#i can't draw it the way i draw fur so it's just. strange to me

[candy69gurl]

MISTAKEN TRUST

PAIRING Mahito x f!reader

SYNOPNSIS The reader is a kind person who likes feeding strays. Mahito is taken aback by her charity, which makes her the target of his scheme. Mahito uses her generosity to his advantage, transforming into a dog to capture the reader's attention and earn their trust. (Mahito is a virgin and he experiments with your body)

WARNING non/con, monster fucking, use of tentacles, slight somnophilic, fingering, use of elongated tongue (in mouth and pussy), bondage, dual penetration, use of all the holes), nipple sucking playing pinching, squirting, missonary, doggy, multiple orgasms, enlargement of dick, breast slapping, choking, face fucking, degradation, use of nicknames (toy), raw sex (cumming inside mouth, creampie, ass), clit nibbling & rubbing, over stimulation, mouth fucking after passing out, lactation & breeding kink

NOTE I understand that Mahito isn't universally liked, but believe me, he possesses the ability to provide infinite pleasures beyond what a typical human can offer. This story is tailored for readers who harbor a deep fascination with tentacles.

You make your way down the deserted alleyway, just below your apartment, the sound of your footsteps reverberating. Your gaze drawn towards the neon green eyes gleaming from the shadows at the alley's bend.

Today, you decided to bring a bit more food than usual, hoping to feed every last stray dog in the area. As you scan the alleyway, searching for the furry beings hiding in the shadows, you see them drawing near, detecting your scent and seemingly exhibiting trust in your presence. But, you notice something new - a puppy curled up in a corner, its eyes fixed on you intently. Something about those heterochromia eyes, the way they seem to peer straight into your soul, unsettles you, but you dismiss it as mere coincidence.

"Hey there, little one," you say softly, offering a piece of meat to the puppy. To your surprise, the puppy approaches you cautiously, accepting the food with tentative paws. As you continue to distribute food around the alley, that puppy sticks closely by your side, as if drawn to you. It's odd, but you can't help feeling a strange connection forming between you and the creature.

You notice that the other stray dogs keeping their distance from the peculiar puppy, as if they can sense something off about it. Under the moon's glow, the puppy's dull bluish fur and mismatched eyes catch your attention. As you attempt to feed the other dogs, they scamper away with their meat, an uncommon reaction for you. Your focus shifts to the newcomer puppy.

"Hmm, why do you think the others are acting this way?" you ask the puppy, petting its head gently. "You seem new here." The puppy licks your hand affectionately, seemingly unfazed by the behavior of its fellow canines.

In an instant, the scene shifts from tranquil to chaotic. A large black dog lunges at the newcomer, its jaws clamping down on the smaller puppy's paw with a sickening snap. You jump away in reflex, the sudden aggression startles you, and you instinctively step between the dogs, trying to shield the newcomer from harm. "Stop it!" you yell, your voice trembling with fear and anger.

Your eyes scan the street, seeking out for some stick or pebble to intervene and halt the fight. But suddenly, you hear a shrill, painful wail. You look back at them, the larger dog lets out a whimper before darting away, tail tucked between its legs. Its once-menacing demeanor replaced by fear and bewilderment.

You stare at the new puppy, wide-eyed, trying to comprehend what just happened. It raises its head, a knowing smirk playing at the corners of its mouth before turning back to you, tongue hanging out in satisfaction.

With a mix of concern and admiration, you bend down and carefully inspect the puppy's injured paw. Its tiny body trembles under your gentle touch, but it doesn't whimper or try to escape. Your heart aches for the small creature that defended itself so fiercely against the much larger dog.

"Brave little one, let me take you home" you whisper, cradling the puppy in your arms. Despite its injury, the puppy snuggles closer to you, its tail thumping against your chest in gratitude. "We'll take care of that wound once we get home. You shouldn't have to fight alone, buddy," you say, your voice thick with emotion. With the newfound bond between you and the puppy growing stronger, you make your way back to your apartment, determined to give it care and protection it deserves.

Little did you know that this act of kindness would bind you even more tightly to the enigmatic spirit, whose true intentions remain shrouded in mystery.

Upon returning home, you immediately tend to the puppy's wounded paw. Cleaning the injury, you apply a sterile dressing and wrap it securely with gauze. The puppy remains still throughout the process, its trust in you evident as it allows you to tend to its wounds without struggle. Then you wash him with your own shampoo. Once you finish, you offer the puppy some water, which it drinks eagerly.

"There we go, buddy," you murmur, stroking the puppy's head tenderly. "Just stay here with me for a bit longer. If I take you back there, what if you're attacked again?"

As you sit down on the couch, the puppy nestles into your lap, content and peaceful. You can't help but feel an overwhelming sense of responsibility towards this mysterious creature.

The puppy's unusual features start to catch your attention again. The dull bluish fur, the heterochromia eyes, the way it defended itself so ferociously – it's unlike any dog you've ever encountered. You begin to wonder about its origins, feeling a growing unease in your gut. You decide to do some research, pulling out your phone to search for breeds with similar features.

As you scroll through various results, none seem to match the unique characteristics of the puppy in your lap. A nagging suspicion starts to form in the back of your mind. "You know, I can't seem to find a breed that looks quite like you," you say, looking into the puppy's eyes.

As if understanding your thoughts, the puppy tilts its head, gazing back at you with those eerily intelligent eyes. For a brief moment, you swear its expression revealed a hint of mischief and amusement. But before you can examine further, the puppy closes its eyes and drifts off to sleep, its breathing steady and slow.

Carefully, you lay the puppy down on the bed, tucking a blanket around it to keep it warm. Exhausted from the events of the night, you join the puppy on the bed, wrapping your arm protectively around it as you close your eyes. Sleep comes slowly, your mind still grappling with the peculiarities of the evening. Eventually, the warmth of the puppy and the comfort of your safe space lull you into a deep slumber.

As you drift off to sleep, the puppy's eyes flicker open. With a barely perceptible shift in its form, its body begins to change. Stitches appear on its fur, spreading across the once furry surface. The heterochromia eyes intensify, taking on a life of their own. The puppy transforms into a humanoid-curse, Mahito.

He had been observing you from afar, admiring your every move, particularly your kindness. He noticed your fondness for organims and had to take advantage of it. He wanted to experiment with your mind and body. He had heard from Kenjaku that humans are incredibly sensitive during sex, and he wants to test it out. You were the ideal toy for it, so frail, sweet, and adorable. You were lonely so you took to feeding strays, he had been witnessing you feeding the dogs every night, and yes, that's the perfect time for him to get at you, so he transformed himself as an adorable little puppy to catch your attention.

Despite the transformation happening right beside you, you remain sound asleep, utterly oblivious to the changes occurring. Unnoticed by you, Mahito continues the playful facade, gently grasping your breast through your thin nightshirt. He revels in the texture, tracing the outline of your hardening nipple with his thumb. The sensation sends a thrill through him, fueling his curiosity about you.

His hand curves like a sharp claw, ripping your top extra carefully not to hurt you, exposing your bare breast to the cool air. His lips brush against the sensitive skin, sending a shiver down your spine, unbeknownst to you. He latches onto your nipple, the unexpected sensation causing you to stir slightly in your sleep. You moan softly, your brows creasing in confusion and pleasure.

So these are female breasts.. I heard they start milking if pregnant. So what if I make her pregnant with my baby curses? his eyes gazing your hardened nipples glistening with his saliva.

Mahito sucks harder, relishing the satisfying response he receives. He finds himself entranced by the experience, both sensual and twisted. He can't help but chuckle at the absurdity of the situation – tormenting a sleeping victim while they remain blissfully ignorant. He can't stop thinking about the ways he is going to play with your body, as he continues his assault. The thought excites him even more, and he sucks harder, his hands roaming freely over your body.

"Humans are so foolish", he whispers mockingly, his voice almost inaudible. His actions become bolder, exploring areas he knows you wouldn't allow if conscious. You squirm beneath him, your body responding to the unwanted touches. Despite your protests in your dreams, Mahito pays no heed, intent on testing the limits of your subconscious mind.

A smile plays on his lips as he observes your reaction, enjoying the control he's gained over you. Ignoring your half-hearted attempts to resist in your sleep, Mahito pulls down your panties, revealing yourself to him fully. His grin widens, fascination etched on his face as he gazes upon your naked form.

His fingers gazing your folds, your clit trying to find the way to your vagina. Found it, with lightning-fast reflexes, he inserts his fingers into you, plunging deep and eliciting a sharp intake of breath from you. Your dreams fill with panic and discomfort as you struggle to escape his grasp but to no avail.

Your subconscious mind begs for release, but Mahito merely laughs, his fingers moving in a rhythm meant to tease and torment. He leans in close, whispering into your ear, "Welcome to my game, toy." Your dream self twists and turns, unable to escape his grip. Each thrust of his fingers brings a gasp, your body betraying you even as you plead in your sleep.

So helpless, Mahito smirks, his fingers shifting pace and pressure, eliciting a mixture of pain and pleasure from within you. He watches as you squirm beneath him, a satisfied smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

Just as you're about to reach your breaking point, Mahito abruptly stops his assault. Instead, he leans down and gently nibbles on your clitoris; his tongue elongating, delving into your spasming hole, triggering an electric shock of sensation that shatters your unconscious resistance. Your eyes fly open, gasping as you come back to reality. Panic courses through you as you realize what's happening, your mind struggling to comprehend the situation. Mahito raises his head, locking gaze with you, "Looks like you are awake-"

When your legs suddenly move and you kick him square in the nose, his nose immediately begins to bleed. "W-who the fuck are you?"

He gives a creepy grin, and your eyes widen as you see him recover in an instant. You attempt to push him away, but he effortlessly avoids your flailing leg, maintaining his position above you. His eyes glint with mischievous delight at your shocked face, his smile never leaving his face. "I'm Mahito," he introduces nonchalantly, "and now that you're awake, our game can truly begin."

You try to scream, but the words catch in your throat. Fear washes over you like a tidal wave. Mahito's grin widens as a mass of pale, tentacles sprouts from his body from every direction. Your struggles become frantic, but his grasp proves too strong. Tentacles snaking from his body to wrap around your legs, pinning you firmly to the bed.

One of the tentacles reaches out to shove itself into your mouth, silencing your screams and forcing you into submission. "No need to scream," Mahito teases, his voice dripping with malice. "This is just the beginning. We have so much to explore."

Despite your efforts to free yourself, the tentacles tighten around your limbs, leaving you helpless and vulnerable. Mahito's fingers returning your core, resuming their invasion, delving deeper within you with each twist.

You swallow hard, tears pooling in your eyes as you look into his eyes filled with sadism. "You'll learn to enjoy it, toy," As if in response to his words, more tentacles emerge, wrapping themselves around your breasts and nipples. They constrict, rubbing your sensitive flesh painfully.

Simultaneously, Mahito's three fingers continue their assault, thrusting into you with brutal force. Pain and pleasure collide in a cacophony of sensations, your body shaking violently under his control.

Your eyes dart around the room, searching for a way out, but Mahito keeps his grip firm, his fingers never faltering in their rhythm. "Isn't it exciting?" he asks, his voice tinged with mirth. "Everything you've been missing out on, all the thrills and desires you've ignored. Now, you'll experience them all." His words cut through the chaos in your mind, igniting a spark of curiosity amidst the fear.

With a sudden harsh pinch on your nipples, you release a loud cry as you squirt under his persistent assault. Waves of orgasm wash over you, your body convulsing beneath his touch. Surprise flickers across Mahito's face, and then morphs into admiration. His fingers pause briefly, taking in the sight of you trembling before him. "Incredible, that tightness.. was.. Incredible" he breathes, his voice thick with approval. "Human bodies are incredible," he laughs maniacally.

His tentacle inside your mouth withdraws allowing you to breath. You gasp for air, your chest heaving. You want to run, scream, anything to break free from his hold, but you're paralyzed by fear and shame. Mahito's eyes gleam with triumph as he studies you, pulling his fingers out of you with a wet pop.

"Don't worry," he purrs, leaning in close, "this is just the beginning." He removes all the tentacles except the ones holding you down, letting go of your nipples and breasts.

"W-what are you, how did you get inside?", your voice, struggled. Mahito's grin widens, and he leans down to whisper into your ear, "I am a curse, and I can be anywhere I please." His voice is cold and calculating, promising more torment to come. His body leans over yours, towering you, and you feel his erection pressing against your thigh.

"Get ready, toy," he warns, "we have a lot to discover about each other." His fingers trace the curves of your body, making you shiver with anticipation and dread. As he positions himself between your legs, you struggle weakly against the tentacles restraining you.

"N-no..", you protest. "Yes," Mahito insists, his eyes burning with determination. "Keep resisting but you cannot escape from me." His fingers dig into your hips, pinning you down as he enters you roughly.

You cry out in pain and fear, your walls protesting against the invasion. Mahito thrusts harder, relishing the sounds coming from you. His laughter echoes in the room, filling every corner with his cruelty.

Still pinned under Mahito's weight, you lie there, breathing heavily as he continues his assault. His laughter subsides, replaced by a satisfied hum. As the tentacles retract, you're left exposed, your vulnerability laid bare. Your body remains tense, every muscle strained as you wait for what comes next. Mahito's thrusts become more aggressive, burying himself deep within you with each stroke.

The sheets below you crinkle loudly as you clutch them tightly, seeking solace from the intense stimulation. Mahito's movements sync with your orgasm's buildup, hitting all the right spots with precision. Your breath hitches, and your eyes squeeze shut as the wave of pleasure intensifies. Your body arches off the bed, unable to bear the intensity longer.

"That's it, toy," Mahito murmurs, his voice low and laced with triumph. "Let go, let yourself enjoy it."

Each thrust propels you closer to the edge, the anticipation building to a fever pitch. As you near climax, Mahito increases his pace, driving you towards the brink. His hands find your hips again, guiding you in a rhythm that matches his own. Your heart races, sweat breaks out on your brow as you gasp for air, your body betraying you once more.

"Let me feel you tighten once again." Mahito demands, thrusting faster, pushing you over the edge. You cry out, your orgasm crashing over you like a tsunami. Every contraction of your muscles around him reveals your surrender, your body giving in to his control. Mahito's thrusts become fierce, his own climax approaching rapidly, "Fuck... I will breed you."

As you reach your peak, Mahito follows suit, his own release imminent. His thrusts become erratic, his body shuddering with the force of his ecstasy. He drives deeper, his seed filling your womb, his pleasure intertwining with yours. His breaths are heavy and ragged, his teeth gritted in the height of his climax. Finally, Mahito slows his pace, his breaths steadied and his body relaxed. His weight rests on you, still inside you, yet the urgency was gone.

"I never... EVER .. imagined.. sex feels this good", he speaks through his gritted teeth. The air is thick with the scent of sex, the room resonating with the sounds of your pleasure. He leans down, inserting his elongated tongue into your mouth. Your tongue fighting with his but it lengthens further hitting your uvula. He retracts, his saliva dropping on your face, he smiles sheepishly before speaking again, "Round two?"

"Y-you got to be kidding me..", your eyes widen in anticipation. Mahito chuckles, a sound that puts goosebumps on your skin. He eases out of you slowly, his lingering arousal lending a sense of satisfaction to his actions. "Oh, I'm not done with you yet, toy," he says, tracing a lazy circle on your hip.

"You are a... W-what the hell are you?", you spat at him.

He laughs his member hardening once more ,"You haven't seen 1% of it.. Let me show you, what I can do", with that, pulls you by your ankle, rolling you on your stomach.

One by one, his long gone tentacles encircle your body again, trapping you to the bed with your ass raised high. Their grip is firm but not painful, securing you in a position that leaves you completely exposed. Mahito moves behind you, his erection throbbing with renewed vigor. His hands brush over your hips, sending shivers down your spine.

"Brace yourself, toy," he whispers, the hint of a smile in his voice. "I promised you new experience, didn't I?" He lines up his erection with your entrance, positioning himself for another round.

You curl your lip in disgust, your body trembling with fear and anger. "W-what do you get out of this?" you manage to ask, your voice hoarse from previous exertion.

Mahito's eyes gleam with interest, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin. "Ah, I love to torment humans. Now I want to use the other hole you have."

Without warning, Mahito slams his cock already lubricated with your and his releases, into you, penetrating your ass with brutal ferocity. A cry escapes you, mingling with his harsh groan of satisfaction. With each thrust, your body jolts, the foreign invasion stretching you wide. The different angle sends shockwaves of discomfort coursing through you, your muscles protesting the violation.

Mahito's thrusts are rapid and unrestrained, each one driven by a hunger that knows no bounds. His hands roam over your body, exploring your curves with a possessive touch. "Feel the difference, toy," he taunts, his voice rough with desire. "I bet you never imagined this, did you?"

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you struggle against the tentacles restraining you. Each thrust is a painful reminder of your captivity. "Please... stop," you whimper, your voice raw and pleading.

"Aw, look at that pussy, clamping on nothing.. I feel bad for it", as soon as Mahito speaks the words, a tentacle slides into your throbbing pussy, stretching you even further. You gasp at the added sensation, your body trembling under the dual invasion. Mahito chuckles, his thrusts becoming more forceful at your reaction. "Looks like your body wants it, toy," he teases, enjoying your reaction.

Mahito's thrusts become more aggressive, driven by a single purpose - to make you lose control. The tentacle inside your pussy mimics his movements, creating friction that builds your pleasure higher. Your body writhes beneath him, the tentacles anchoring you securely to the bed.

"Fuck! Noooo", your whimpers turn into moans as Mahito's tentacle moves in perfect harmony with his cock, sending waves of pleasure and you beg, "Please..." , your voice filled with a mix of agony and delight. "I-I can't take anymore." Mahito's laughter fills the air, his thrusts growing harsher, matching the speed of the tentacle inside you.

"Can't take it?" Mahito snarls, his voice dripping with malice. "You'll take everything I dish out, toy." He plunges deeper, his fingers digging into your hips. The tentacle inside you mirrors his actions, stroking your most sensitive spots.

Your body convulses, caught between pleasure and pain, as Mahito drives you towards the edge. Your cries fill the room, a testament to the chaos within you. Just as you reach your breaking point, Mahito's voice rings out, sharp and commanding, "Cumming again? yet you say you don't like it?"

With a sharp intake of breath, you succumb to the sensations overwhelming you. Your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, your body shaking uncontrollably.

As your orgasm peaks, Mahito thrusts harder, his own release drawing near. The tension between you becomes palpable, the air charged with your combined pleasure. Finally, he lets out a fierce growl, his orgasm hitting him like a freight train. He pulses inside you, spilling his seed deep within your ass.

His fingers dig into your hips, holding you steady as he finishes. The tentacle inside you withdraws, leaving behind a trail of lingering sensitivity. Your eyes roll, panting heavily as the shudders subside. His eyes revel in your disheveled state, his victory complete.

"Well, wasn't that entertaining?" Mahito asks, his voice laced with satisfaction. The tentacles releasing their hold on you, letting you fall onto the bed in a heap. He steps back, his erection retreating from your ass with a lewd sound. The sudden emptiness makes you wince, your body still adjusting to the aftermath, your eyelids blinking as you start seeing all white.

"No No sweetheart, you cannot passout, not yet, I have seen humans taking more than this" Mahito lifts you effortlessly, your limbs dangling loosely. Your clothes, now torn and ruined, falling away from your body, ripped apart by his razor-sharp tentacles. Naked and vulnerable, you hang in midair, the reality of your situation settling in.

Despite your battered state, Mahito seems pleased with his work. He examines you, his eyes glinting with satisfaction. Then again, Mahito guides his still-erect penis between your legs. He positions himself at your entrance, the tip brushing against your swollen flesh. With a cruel grin, he thrusts inside you, burying himself deep in your pussy. The remnants of his seed trickle from your ass, making a messy contrast against the fresh invasion.

Your body winces at the stretch, but you offer no resistance. Your mind is numb, unable to process the brutality you've endured. Mahito's thrusts are slow and deliberate, relishing in your broken state. The sight of his seed leaking from your ass only fuels his lust further.

"I love this hole, so sensitive," Mahito coos, his breath hot against your ear.

Huddled against Mahito's chest, your body quakes with every thrust. Your face rests against him, exhausted and defeated. Tears streak down your cheeks, mixing with sweat and arousal. In this moment, you're nothing more than a toy to be played with, incapable of escape or resistance.

Mahito grins, enjoying your submission. His thrusts become more frenzied, driven by his arousal and dominance. His grip tightens, holding you firmly against him. "Why'd you stop making those sweet sounds?" he awes, his voice tinged with satisfaction. "Already got used to my cock?"

Drool trickles down your chin, evidence of your surrender. Your eyes roll back, lost in the sensations he's inflicting upon you. Mahito's thrusts become more erratic, his pleasure escalating alongside yours. "Now now, I cannot enjoy when my toy is not responding."

In a sudden burst of power, Mahito enlarges his erection. Your body screams in protest, the unexpected expansion threatening to tear you apart. Your head thumps against his chest involuntarily, your cries muffled by the contact.

"Oh, look at that!" Mahito exclaims, amused by your reaction. "Fits perfectly now!" His thrusts become faster, the new size of his cock stretching you impossibly.

"G-gonna die.. p-please stop", your hands grip his hair, pulling some of his strands, out of pain.

Mahito chuckles, his thrusts continuing relentlessly. "Not tonight, toy," he promises, his words thick with delight. "Just a little more and you'll be begging for more."

Your pleas fall on deaf ears, drowned out by his laughter. Your body betrays you, your orgasm edging closer with every brutal thrust. His hand cups your jaw, forcing your eyes to meet his.

"See? Pain and pleasure, intertwined," he murmurs, his eyes gleaming with triumph. "It's beautiful, isn’t it?"

Your breath hitches, your body betraying you once more. "P-please..." you whisper, the edges of your orgasm sharpening.

"What is it, toy?" Mahito asks, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. "Ask nicely, and maybe I'll grant your wish."

Trembling, you struggle to find your voice. "Make... make me cum again," you manage, your body trembling on the precipice of ecstasy. "Please..."

Mahito smirks, the tension in your body a clear indicator of your impending climax. He increases his pace, driving you closer to the edge. "Oh?," he purrs, your torment his entertainment.

Mahito's thrusts become frantic, your body clenching around him as you teeter on the edge of another orgasm. Your pleas grow louder, the raw desperation palpable. "Please," you whine, your nails digging into his chest. "I need it, please!"

He leans down, his lips grazing your ear. "What a change.."

Two tentacles snake around your waist, holding you securely in place. Mahito's thrusts grow even more intense, the pain from his girthy shaft bruising your insides. You cry out, unable to take all the pleasure inflicted on you.

"Such thrilling sounds," Mahito murmurs, his thrusts growing more desperate. Your body arches, desperate for relief.

One of Mahito's tentacles slithers towards your ass, entering with ease. The remnants of his earlier release drip down, mingling with your fluids. Your body convulses, the dual invasion pushing you closer to the brink.

You bite your lip hard, tears streaming down your face. Mahito's laughter fills the room, his enjoyment apparent.

"Ah, so humans enjoy pain this much?" Mahito says, his voice thick with

One of Mahito's tentacles strikes your breast, the slap leaving a faint red mark. His other tentacle wraps around your neck, cutting off your airflow. Simultaneously, another finds your clitoris, rubbing insistently.

Your body convulses, the torment pushing you to the edge. The tentacle around your neck tightens, the mix of pain and pleasure overwhelming you.

You gasp, struggling to breathe. Despite the suffocation, your body reacts to the stimulation. "You like that, don't you?" Mahito taunts, the tendril on your clit picking up its pace. "The perfect balance of discomfort and ecstasy."

With every thrust, you're propelled closer to the edge. Your lungs burn, the need to breathe overshadowed by your mounting orgasm, your body writhing beneath his assault

Finally, you crest the wave. Your body shudders, the simultaneous assault of pain and pleasure catapulting you into oblivion. A scream rips from your throat as you lose yourself in the rush. Mahito watches, his own release imminent.

His tentacles tighten, his thrusts growing more urgent. With a savage roar, Mahito empties himself within you, his semen flooding your core. His hold on you doesn't loosen until he's finished, your body limp in his grasp. He pulls out slowly, his dick turning to it's original size, the remnants of his seed spilling from your body. The tentacle around your neck releases you last, giving way for you to gasp for air.

"Now, wasn't that lovely?" Mahito asks, his breath ragged. He caresses your cheek, his expression a mix of satisfaction and amusement.

You stare up at him, your chest heaving as you catch your breath. Tears stream down your face, the lingering throbbing between your legs a testament to the experience.

"Don't look at me like that, I am not done experimenting your body" Mahito sets you roughly, onto the bed, before you can react.

"Open up.. Time to use this mouth," he commands, his erection aimed at your mouth. Reluctantly, you obey. Mahito slides into your mouth, your tongue swirling around him tasting the essence of sex, as he starts to thrust.

At the same time, his tentacles find their way back into your already sensitive holes, resuming their invasive dance. Your eyes widen in shock, your mind reeling from the intensity. The combination of sensations overwhelms you - Mahito's cock in your mouth, his tentacles in your most intimate places. You struggle to keep up, your mind spinning.

Mahito's thrusts grow more forceful, his grip firm on your hair. "Oh yes, so good," he praises, his movements intensifying. The tendrils in your ass and pussy follow suit, stretching your limits. Your moans mingle with his grunts, filling the room with raw emotion.

"I told you, I'm not done yet," Mahito growls, his voice thick with lust. He punctuates his words with deep thrusts, his eyes locked on yours. You writhe beneath him, unable to escape the onslaught, throat buldging with each thrust.

Your mind races, trying to process the sensations coursing through you. The dual penetrations are overwhelming. It isn't long before the onslaught becomes too much. Each movement triggers a fresh wave of pleasure, your body reaching its breaking point. Your orgasm collides with you, washing away everything else, your nails digging into the sheets. Mahito picks up on your reaction, his thrusts turning feral. The tentacles in your ass and pussy synchronize, driving you to the brink. Your eyes roll back, your mind spiraling into oblivion. Just as you reach the peak, you lose consciousness. Mahito's cock remains in your mouth, your world fading to black.

Despite your unconsciousness, Mahito continues his relentless assault. He thrusts deeper, pounding into your mouth with renewed vigor. Your lips clamp down instinctively around him, your body still writhing in response to his actions.

With a final roar, Mahito releases, his seed filling your mouth. Your body jerks involuntarily, swallowing involuntarily as he floods your mouth. The tendrils in your holes retreat, satisfied with their work. Mahito slows down, his breathing heavy. He gazes down at you, a twisted smirk playing on his lips.

"That was... quite the performance," he muses, pulling out of your mouth. "I must say, I rather enjoyed that." He leans closer, his gaze flickering on your unconscious face, ''Gonna stick around you for a while" His smirk widens into a grin, his voice low and taunting.

He steps back, leaving you sprawled on the bed, his semen still dripping from your lips. A chilling laugh echoes in the room then, everything goes silent.

You lay there, breath ragged and heart racing, even in your unconscious state. The taste of Mahito lingers on your tongue, his semen a bitter reminder of what just occurred.

The next morning dawns, casting sunlight through the window. As your eyes flutter open, remnants of fear linger in your subconscious. Glancing beside you, you see the puppy nestled in the same spot it occupied since last night. Your mind churns with the haunting remnants of the nightmares that plagued your sleep. Sensing your wakefulness, the puppy springs into action, leaping onto you with eager excitement. Its innocent gaze meets yours, tenderly licking your cheek and nuzzling its head against yours, eliciting a smile from you. In that moment, the memory of the night's unsettling experience (was it bad?) fades into the background, replaced by the warmth and affection of your furry companion.

Suddenly, you experience a sensation—the unmistakable feeling of pain spreading throughout your entire body. You pull the blankets away from your body.. There you are.. Lying naked, bruises and marks all over your body.

You look back at the puppy who's demeanor is now changed. It glances up at you, a mocking expression crossing its features. It bares its teeth in a twisted imitation of Mahito's smirk, its eyes gleaming with malice. The resemblance is uncanny, causing your stomach to turn.

For a moment, it seems as if the puppy speaks, its thoughts seeping into your mind. ''You'll never escape me,'' Panic sets in, realizing the disturbing truth. The puppy is indeed a part of Mahito, a manifestation of his twisted control over you.

''Wait! Who are you?'' you demand, scooting away from the creature. ''What... what does he want from me?''

The puppy tilts its head, its stance shifting to mimic Mahito's smug attitude. It gives you another smirk, identical to Mahito's menacing grin from the previous night.

Your heart races, and you freeze. Could it really be Mahito's doing? Or is it just your imagination playing tricks on you?

Frustration bubbles over, and you finally snap. With a sudden burst of anger, you strike the puppy, sending it tumbling off the bed. It lands on the floor with a soft thud, yelping in surprise.

''Get away from me, dog,'' you croak, pushing him away with a weak hand. ''This ain't funny anymore.''

The puppy whines softly, tilting its head as if confused. Its eyes seem almost pleading, begging you to accept its affection.

Feeling vulnerable and violated, you push yourself up. ''Go away,'' you insist, glaring at the small creature.

But the puppy persists, nuzzling against you, seeking comfort. Tears fill the puppy's eyes as it cowers, tail tucked between its legs. ''Don't... don't hurt me... please,'' it seems to beg, its pitiful whimpers echoing in the room, "please trust me."

Dividers from @/cafekitsune

IF YOU WANT A PART 2 PLEASE COMMENT

#jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk #mahito #mahito x reader #mahito x you #mahito smut #mahito jjk #jjk mahito #jujutsu kaisen angst #tentacles #monsterfucker #monster lover #monster #tentacle monster #monster breeding

[enhanced-operatives-division]

Based off this post...<3

#changed the text a little bit because i love you masc presenting lesbians i love you sm #however #it's Reggie. #ANYWAYS #i don't draw him much because a friend was looking through my sketchbook and said that he looked like a “Dilf-y Mario” #and I haven't fucking recovered #also im not sure hat to do with his hair #hair doesnt make sense to me though tbf #i can't draw it the way i draw fur so it's just. strange to me #alas #anyways bringing starstuck content to the fandom is also my solem duty shoutout to those two who only exist in a very specific au to me #the rarepair ever dear lord #[agent moose's art] #ieytd #i expect you to die #john juniper #agent phoenix #reginald crane #the handler #OH YEAH BSL FOR PHOENIX!! YEAH! #i want to improve my own BSL since im english and it's the only other language I've been able to pick up #and so im practicing with phoenix #do i think phoenix is british? no absolutely not #where do i think they're from? they spawned in /j #anyways #ENOUGH RAMBLING IN TAGS #sorry it's like a safe space for me #boring ass caption then all the fun stuff is in the tags #starstruck

[llolianarchives]

The Prefect and The Draconia

A short overview of the Ramshackle prefect and their strange (but kind) horned fellow friend: as seen through the eyes of outsiders.

(A/N: #Malleyuu notes with an OC but feel free to project. We're all delulu here ╮⁠(⁠.⁠ ⁠❛⁠ ⁠ᴗ⁠ ⁠❛⁠.⁠)⁠╭ )

His Henchman is crazy.

Or at least, that's what Grim thinks when he's woken up at sunrise to Yue's bizarre ramblings. Something about the time being 1 AM, then fireflies at night, and a tall, horned figure – is what he takes from their babble amidst his own groans and pleas to return to sleep. He'd think them delirious from slumber, mumbling about another dream, if it weren't for the way Yue's eyes sparkled with genuine interest. Grim yields, in the end, for one of the many things he's learned about his reliable servant is that they can be awfully enthusiastic when it comes to this world's curiosities.

“He told me to call him whatever I want,” Yue continues, ruffling Grim's fur dry with a clean rag. Before he could insert magnificent ideas of his own, they beat him to it with a soft smile on their lips.

“I'm thinking of naming him Nyx: the personification of the night. What do you think?”

“What? Because he only shows up at night?” Like some wacky cryptid.

“Yup.”

He hears his henchman forgo the brush, letting it clatter loudly against the table.

“Hm... Nyx, huh...” Grim falls into thought, testing the name on his tongue like premium quality tuna. He doesn't even notice how Yue ties the striped ribbon around his neck. Triumphant, he turns to them with a grin.

“That's not half-bad, Henchman! It's cool and mysterious. Not as cool and mysterious as me, of course, but I'd say it's a close second!”

“Naturally. I wouldn't dare bestow a name mightier than the Great Grim's.”

Despite the stream of praise his henchman delivers (which he pleasantly basks in), Yue eventually derails, returning to speak of the horned man yet again. What Grim's superior brain gathers is this: One, this Nyx guy is super weird. Two, Yue's interest has been piqued like no other before.

He'll demand some omurice as payment for his counsel later on.

. . .

Malleus has made a friend.

The news was dropped onto Lilia's lap rather unceremoniously when one night, the Young Lord—having just returned from another evening excursion, went to sit with him in the Diasomnia lounge. This time, however, the quaintest of smiles adorned his face... It was an unusual sight but certainly not unwelcome. And much like any doting parent, his curiosity led him to ask.

Malleus had replied with a question of his own.

"Lilia, do you know of the Prefect that resides in Ramshackle Dorm?"

"Yue? Why yes, of course. I've spoken to them once or twice. They made quite a show during the Ceremony."

Yue— Lilia soon comes to learn— is completely unaware of Malleus's identity as a prince and a figure of authority, of power. As such, they bear no fear for him, even going so far as to bestow him a pet name, of all things.

(“Nyx? As in the night spirit? How fitting.")

Thus began the pattern of Lilia covering for Malleus's nighttime absence, not daring to ask nor scold when the prince would return in strange and stranger states.

When he would return to the dormitory partially caked with dirt and mud (a consequence of helping the prefect with their little garden of life.) Or when he would return with a box of homemade cake, a pretty stone from their walks, a drawing of him supposedly made by the prefect's beast, and with inquiries of the complexities of human nature.

Sometimes, Lilia can't help but feel a bit guilty, constantly boring witness to Silver and Sebek's searches into the night.

Yet that sliver of guilt fades, in the end, when Malleus smiles more often than before, when he approaches Lilia in the winter with the request of delivering a Holiday Card.

As he watches the magicless human rush into their abode, card in hand, ghosts and Grim awaiting their entrance...

he has never felt prouder and more grateful for fate.

. . .

From a distance, Vil watches.

He watches as the feared Briar Prince lets a small, feeble human talk his ear off, calm and unresisting, a hand on his chin as he ponders along Yue's barrage of words. He gives the prefect full reign of the conversation. He lets himself be taken away by their stories and details. He lets them speak, which they do.

Just after the horrors, highs, lows, and thrills of the VDC, the two chat as if nothing even happened. The onslaught of it all feels like a fever dream to Vil. First, the mental toll of overblotting, then their loss to RSA's nursery rhyme performance, and now the shocking reveal of Yue (innocent, bold, mundane little Yue) and Malleus Draconia's relationship.

He isn't even sure what to make of it. They're clearly friends, yet Vil can't bring himself to chalk it up to just that. His years and years of showbiz cinema has taught him the ins and outs of body language. He watches. He sees:

There's the smiles on both their faces; cheeks raised taut, dimples carved with genuine laughter. There's that glimmer in Yue's eyes and the odd tenderness of Malleus's own, both gazes locked onto one another with an undisturbed focus. There's the fact that Yue had given him an invitation to the VDC, or that Malleus had fixed the stage partially to show off to the magicless human, or that their hands are currently mere centimeters away from each other.

In the end, Vil averts his gaze, weariness crashing into him all at once and he feels a pair of hands grasp onto his shoulders, keeping him standing. Rook smiles, gentle, knowing, annoying. Vil resigns to his whims and lets his Huntsman guide him back to the Pomefiore Dorm, the chatter of Yue and Malleus and everyone else fading away.

#theyre so silly #so pookie #theyre so wholesome in my mind<3 #dont you love it when its mainly platonic but maybe something more? #yue-lorren #idk im just having fun #twst #twisted wonderland #yuu twisted wonderland #vil schoenheit #lilia vanrouge #grim twisted wonderland #malleus draconia #rlly not a good time tho #the diasomnia chapter is WRECKING ME #i might write something for it soon enough #the-night-and-the-moon #inkless-printer #twst x oc #malleyuu #yuusona

[chronicbeans]

Wally and a Puppeteer Reader (part 12) (End)

One final show to end all shows! How will it go? Nobody knows!

Don't worry, though! If you want more from this little scenario, I'll answer asks for headcanons about it. Just be sure to specify that you want a puppeteer reader. (As well as if you want it to be pre-ending or post-ending).

TW: Obsessive Behaviors, Scopophobia/Eye Imagery, Idol Worshipping, Derealization

🎥 You enter the studio, watching as Wally runs to the set, his legs wobbling slightly as though, even after all this time, he is still unaccustomed to using his legs. You follow behind, the both of you knowing exactly where to go, almost like instinct.

🎥 As you approach the room where the set is located, you see the aftermath of what had occured the night Wally was brought to your house. A dented can of spilt blue paint, with a dark red mixed into it is lying in the hallway by the music room. When you pass by the craft storage, you see papers all strewn about, alongside a broken stapler. Black, painted eyes cover the walls, watching over the both of you with a keen eye as you approach the colorful set, already lighted up with stage lights.

🎥 You look around the area as Wally runs over to the set of the title card. He cries out a little "Home! I missed you! I missed you all! Soon, you'll believe me..." Your attention, however, is focused entirely on the area around you.

🎥 Everyone is here. Barnaby, Julie, Poppy, Sally, even Frank, Eddie, and Home! Howdy is here, too, looking as joyful as ever. The set is perfectly lit up, even though nobody should've been in here after the accident. You can only assume someone just set this up as a joke for whoever came in first after the break. It still unnerves you. Even the swirls on the walls look too freshly painted on, almost as if they are still wet...

🎥 "Come on, (Y/N)! I'm ready for my cue! Come over here and puppeteer me like the old days!" Wally says, an all to gleeful gleam in his eyes for someone who knows you plan to burn him later. You are too impatient, wanting everything to be over with already. You pick him up from his spot next to Home, walking over to the title card. You get ready to have him sing the opening number, only to hear shuffling from behind you.

🎥 You look over just in time to see a flash of blue fur, before something hits your head, and everything goes black...

...

📽️ You hear voices as you wake up. Your eyes are still closed, your head dizzy, and a painful ache fills your entire skull. Things such as "I can't believe it... The people from my hometown were right." "They look so strange compared to us! Not in a bad way, though! They would look perfect playing the main character for the next show I am planning!" or even "I wonder what will happen now?" are all being said in awfully familiar voices. There is a constant, droning creak all around you, sometimes being interrupted by what sounds like the opening and closing of doors or windows.

📽️ Then, there is HIS voice. "Everyone, back up! You'll all get a turn to meet our lovely puppeteer!" Your eyes shoot wide open at the sound of Wally's voice. A colorful ceiling meets your eyes, alongside a few glimpses of colorful people. You sit up, hearing a few gasps of awe from nearby. Some people start talking, but all you can do is survey your surroundings. Colorful walls, floors, and furniture. The walls are covered in paintings and drawings that look similar to the ones on set at the studio. The world seems so fake.

📽️ You look over to the people, your heart stopping. Its the puppets. Barnaby, Poppy... All of them. You feel your own arms, thankful when you feel skin instead of felt or fur. Wally walks over to you, speaking in a quiet tone "You are awake... Good. I need to show you how things work around here. Why do you look so scared? You are in a safer place, now." He reaches out to you, seemingly trying to give you a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

📽️ You flinch away from him, your heart racing a mile a minute. "You... how did you do this? What is going on?" Poppy looks down at you, tilting her head as she speaks "It will be alright, dear. Wally told us all about you. We may not have believed you existed, at first, but Wally always spoke about you. We know exactly what you need... Tender loving care!"

📽️ Wally clasps his hands together, continuing "This place is so... Fake. You are a puppeteer, though, so you can fix it, right? With you here, this neighborhood will have exactly what it needs: our own little piece of reality in our fictional world! I was so worried you would turn into a puppet when we brought you here. I am so happy you stayed a lovely puppeteer!"

📽️ You stand up, pushing past them all as Wally cries out, asking where you are going. You find your way outside of Home, standing in the center of the neighborhood. Wally runs up to your side, forcefully grabbing your arm to keep you still. With a slightly strained smile on his face, he asks "Where are you going? Can't you see that you have everything you need here? Kind neighbors who would never hurt you and will instead serve your every whim, a safe and loving Home to keep a roof over your head... And me, your faithful, most devoted puppet."

📽️ You look at him, panic filling you as you ask "What about Henry? His uncle is leaving after today and Angela still won't be able to work for a few more weeks! He needs me to provide for him!"

📽️ Wally chuckles, looking over to Eddie and asking what time it is. He answers, looking at his watch and telling him exactly what time it is. Wally then pats your shoulder, pointing to the distance. "Perfect timing, (Y/N)! No worries! You'll see him everyday! He'll see you, too! Look closely!"

📽️ Before your eyes, you see an odd static in the all too blue sky. It looks almost like a rectangular void... Then, your heart drops as you see it.

📽️ Henry is sitting on the couch, his legs crossed as he holds his Barnaby plushie close to his chest. Through the reflection in his eyes, you see the title screen for Welcome Home, with YOU added into the cast of characters. His happy expression fades, a look of horror spreading onto his face. He calls out, then, you see Angela limp over on crutches. She looks at the screen, before that same look of horror spreads to her face, too.

📽️ You feel sick, your blood running cold as you begin to feel faint. Wally wraps his arms around you, looking at you as he says to his friends "Are you all ready? All together, now! One, two, three..."

"WELCOME HOME, (Y/N)!!!"

#welcome home

[candycandy00]

CANDYYY!! Congratulations on 2k followers!! You deserve every single one of them!! 💕💕

I saw the build your own fanfic adventure and you know I have to get in on this soooooooo:

Character: Dabi (what a surprise there 😂)

AU setting: Honestly I'm so stuck between Gothic Mansion and Monster Forest, I'll let you decide!!

Spice level: screw it let's go all the way, NSFW bb

Mood: I'll leave it up to you! You know me, I could go either way!

Kink: ugh I'll indulge a little today, Breeding/Daddy kink (sometimes I like being taken care of, you know?? 😂😂)

Have fun my love! 😘 Can't wait to read Choso's chapter!!

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. Dabi as a werewolf. Dabi as a vampire. Light vampire-related blood. Rough sex. Breeding. Oral sex. Heavily inspired by the 1988 horror film “Waxwork”.

This ended up a lot longer than I planned but I hope you like it, babe!

Part of CandyCandy’s 2k Followers Event! Any feedback is loved! Dividers by @benkeibear.

You’ve always loved wax museums, so when a new one opened up in town, you just had to visit on opening day. You walk through the doors, noting sadly that there isn’t a very big crowd. After looking through the “historical figures” and “celebrities” sections, you wander into the “fictional characters” area. 

There are highly detailed wax figures lovingly made to recreate various famous scenes from novels and movies. A large portion of them are horror, and so you feel a chill down your spine as you notice you’re the only visitor in this section. 

Some of the wax figures look so realistic, you find yourself staring at them to make sure they’re not moving. You walk around, looking at the displays, before stopping at one that fascinates you. 

The scene looks like the interior of a cabin in the woods. There are even fake trees outside the windows. The “room” is lit by a fireplace. Near the door, there’s a young man bent backwards in what appears to be agony, in the midst of a transformation. He has messy white hair, and half his body is covered in white fur, giving the illusion that the fur is spreading. His dark clothes are ripped, and he’s clutching his head with his hands, one of them tipped with razor sharp claws. His eyes, so bright blue that they seem to glow, are staring upwards. You imagine he’s staring at a full moon.

Also in the display is a young woman in a ragged dress, recoiling from him in horror. Strangely, she resembles you. Her build is the same as yours, as well as her hair. But with her face so twisted by fear, you can’t really tell if that resembles yours too. 

Your eyes keep being drawn back to the man, to the fine white fur that looks like crushed velvet. You want to touch it, to feel it beneath your fingertips. And his eyes… so beautiful. 

Wait… did his eyes just move? For a fraction of a second, you thought his eyes flicked down to your face. But surely you imagined it. You laugh nervously, deciding you’ve been looking at this display for too long. 

You move quickly to the next display, this one looking like the ornate dining room of a gothic castle. Sitting at the table in a beautiful Victorian style dress is a young woman who looks almost identical to the one from the previous display. Which means she looks just like you. Her hair is pinned up in an intricate style, and her dress is way too immodest to be historically accurate. It’s an off the shoulder design that is extremely low cut, exposing way more cleavage than was probably common in the Victorian era. 

The young woman is holding a steak knife in her hand, and has apparently cut her finger on it by accident, as a shiny drop of red “blood” is made to look as if it’s dripping down her hand. But the most interesting part of this display is the man standing behind her, like a predator. 

You draw in a sharp breath as you look at him, realizing with a tinge of alarm that he’s the same as the man from the werewolf display, with slight differences. This one has black hair, and is wearing a black Victorian suit with a cape. He also has scars covering the lower half of his face. But those eyes… those lovely blue eyes… they’re the same. There’s a look of hunger in them as he leans over the woman, staring at the drop of blood. You look at the blood too, trying to imagine why he finds it so compelling. 

Oh, he must be a vampire! You almost laugh at yourself for being so slow to realize it. You casually glance back up at his face, and your breath catches in your throat. 

He’s looking straight at you. Not at the drop of blood, but at you. 

Your heart pounds furiously as you stare at him, locked in his gaze. This time you’re certain. His eyes moved! You know for a fact he was looking at the woman’s hand before! So why is he looking into your eyes now? 

This must be some kind of trick or gimmick, you tell yourself, trying to calm down. Maybe the wax figure has some sort of mechanized feature that makes his eyes move, as a way to excite the visitors. Or, judging by how realistic he looks, maybe he’s an actor! The possibility makes you feel quite silly. 

You back away, suddenly eager to leave this section of the museum, but your back collides with something and your body bounces forward, causing you to stumble over the velvet rope cordoning off the display and fall directly into it. You close your eyes and brace for the impact of the floor, but instead you black out. 

When your eyes snap open, you’re sitting at the fancy table in the dining room. There’s a plate of delicious looking food in front of you and a steak knife in your hand. A single drop of blood is sliding down your index finger. You look in front of you, where the rope should be, but it’s not there. In fact, the rest of the museum is gone! You really are in a complete dining room! 

All at once you remember the other occupant of the room, and you slowly turn your head to look over your shoulder. Leaning over you is the very beautiful, very alive, vampire with the black hair and the scars. 

“Did you cut yourself? Are you okay?” he asks. You expected his voice to be more smooth and formal, given his attire, but he sounds like any random guy you go to college with. 

You’re not sure what to say, wondering if this is a dream or not. Did you hit your head when you fell? 

The man grabs your hand, firmly but not harshly, and pulls it up to his face to examine it. “Looks like a small cut,” he says, then wraps his scarred lips around your finger, his tongue lapping gently at the blood. 

You’re so transfixed that you don’t think to pull your hand away until he’s finished. His eyes move over you, and you’re suddenly very aware of how obscenely low cut your dress is. You stand up from the table and look around, still hoping to see the rest of the museum somewhere. But it’s just not there. 

“Not running off, are you?” the man asks, a hint of a grin on his face. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had someone for dinner.” His tongue runs over his lips as he says it, making your face flush with heat. 

“Um, I’m not really sure where I am,” you say, your back against the edge of the table. 

He steps closer to you. “You’re in my home, doll, and we’re about to have dessert.”

You feel paralyzed as he gets closer and closer, until his body is pressed against yours. He’s taller than you, probably a little older, but he’s fucking gorgeous. 

Maybe this is a dream. Maybe it’s a concussion-induced hallucination. But whatever it is, you might as well enjoy it. 

You reach up and wrap your arms around him as he lifts you up and sits you on the table, the plates and silverware magically gone. His mouth is on your neck, licking along a vein before you feel a sharp pain. He’s biting you! The pain is intense for a few moments, and then disappears, replaced by a feeling of euphoria. You can feel his teeth tearing at your delicate skin, can feel his tongue gliding along the wound, but it doesn’t hurt at all now. You only feel warm and aroused, listening to the sensual sucking sounds as he devours your blood. 

He lies you back on the table and pulls away from your neck. His mouth is sticky and red. He pulls the top of your dress down, freeing your breasts, and then his hands and mouth are upon them, squeezing and licking. 

You moan, clutching his shoulders, opening your legs ever wider as his body presses to you. Eventually he reaches down and rips the skirt of your dress right up the middle, clearing himself a path to your panties and exposing your white garter belt and stockings. He tears the panties away and bends down, running his tongue along your heated, damp flesh. You arch your back, ridiculously turned on by the idea of a vampire eating you out. His tongue, still wet with your blood, circles your clit, driving you to madness. 

When you’re right on the edge of climax, he stops and pulls away, opening his pants to the sounds of your panting. “Gonna be a good girl for me?” he asks, sliding his hand up and down his hard, pleasingly large shaft. 

“Yes! I’ll be so good!” you breathe out, locking your legs around his body, pulling him closer. 

He grins as he shoves himself into you, licking your blood from his lips. His thrusts are deep, intimate, and hit your sweet spot just perfectly. “Ahh… feels so good…” you cry. 

You want to moan his name, but you have no idea what it is. 

“That’s it,” he says with a grunt, thrusting deeper, “taking me so well!”

Fuck it. Just go with the vibes. 

“Harder, Daddy!”

He looks down at you, momentarily surprised, but then he laughs and fucks you harder than you’ve ever been fucked before. 

You were already on the edge of cumming, and now you’re pushed over the edge by the way his tip hits your cervix, making you bounce off the table. You cum while clenching his cock. 

Just before he releases his seed inside you, painting your womb in his color, he leans forward and bites your neck again. There’s that brief searing pain again, contrasting so deliciously with the pleasure rippling through you as his cock pulses in your body. 

He pulls away, licking his lips again and pulling you up to your feet by your hand, like a gentleman. You’re in a daze as he leads you to the door of the room. “Thanks, doll. I haven’t had any visitors in a long time. Hopefully I’ll see you in the next one.”

“Next one?” you ask, confused as you walk through the door. 

You find yourself back in the museum, standing in front of the vampire display. But it looks different now. The woman sitting at the table doesn’t look like you anymore, instead having plain, almost blank features. And the man, the vampire, is standing up straight, looking right at you, a subtle grin on his bloody lips. 

Startled, you step back and touch your hand to your neck. You can feel the puncture wounds, the slick blood trickling out. 

Was… was that real?  

Somewhat delirious, you stagger away, and end up stumbling right into another display. This time you blink and you’re in the cabin in the woods. You’re the girl in the torn dress, cowering in fear of the white haired man who is turning into a werewolf before your very eyes. 

He looks at you through his agony as his body transforms, and you can see the recognition in his eyes. 

“Oh fuck, not this one!” he says, trying to move away from you. “Run! Get… to the edge… of the forest! Hurry!”

“What’s happening!?” you scream. “How did I even get here?”

“It’s the museum!” he shouts, clutching his head in pain. “Listen, you have to run! I can’t… control this form! I go fucking feral!”

You stand there, frozen, watching the soft white fur spread across his lean body, the claws on his hands get longer, the teeth in his much wider mouth become large and sharp. Two white furry ears even grow out of the top of his head. 

“Feral, you say?” The question rolls off your tongue. Watching him writhe in pain as his body changes is… actually kind of hot. 

He looks at you, blue eyes wild, and he seems to understand what you want. The transformation is complete. He stands before you much taller than before, covered head to toe in that lovely white fur. There’s a primal feel to the way he looks at you. Animalistic. Predatory.

Either he’s going to rip you apart or fuck your brains out. You really really hope it’s the latter. 

He lunges forward and tackles you to the floor, pushing you face down onto the rug in front of the fireplace. His movements are fast and aggressive, but not too rough. He easily could have killed you already. 

With one swipe of his powerful claws, your dress is in tatters, barely clinging to your body in tiny strips that cover nothing. Behind you, he lifts your hips and spreads your thighs, and almost immediately plunges into your slick pussy. 

You cry out, gripping the rug in your hands as he begins fucking into you, your bare chest and stomach rubbing against the rug with each thrust. Ah, his cock feels incredible! It’s long and hard, covered in a thin layer of soft velvety fur. As he takes you from behind, he uses one hand to lightly scrape his claws down your back. 

“Oh god!” you scream out when one clawed hand reaches around and finds your clit, rubbing and pinching it, making your body tremble. You don’t have to tell him to fuck you harder. You don’t think he possibly could. Your knees are wobbling, barely supporting you, your face is pressed into the rug, your tears seeping into it. You’ve never felt this good in your entire life. 

You feel him twitching inside you, and just as you feel his scalding hot cum shoot directly into your womb, you feel your own orgasm wash over you. Moaning and panting, you stay there on the rug, your face buried in it, until he eventually pulls out. By the time you have the energy to roll over and look at him, he’s reverted back to human form. 

He’s standing there naked, his white hair damp and hanging in his eyes. He drops down onto the rug beside you, and you scoot closer to him, pulling your knees up to your chest. 

“What is this place?” you ask him. “Is this really still the museum?”

The fireplace is roaring behind you, and you can hear the wind blowing through the trees outside the cabin. 

“I think every display is its own pocket dimension,” he says. “But fuck if I know how it all works.”

You look at him intently. “Who are you?”

He shrugs. “Just a guy who got stuck here. I came to the museum with some friends a few years ago, stumbled into one of the displays, and got stuck. I stayed inside too long, so now I can’t leave.”

“Why not?” you ask. 

“When I finally found the border, the way back to the museum, I stuck one arm out and it instantly turned to wax. As long as I stay in the displays, I’m flesh and blood. But I can move my consciousness around the different dimensions.”

You suddenly feel panicked. “What about me?”

He grins. “You’ll be fine. You haven’t been here nearly long enough. Certain rare people get pulled in, and I always lead them out.”

You meet his gaze for a few moments, then say, “I’ll come back! I’ll visit you as often as I can!”

He gives you a somewhat sad smile. “The museum moves around to different towns. We probably won’t be here for longer than a year.”

“Then I’ll track it down!” you say forcefully, causing him to blink in surprise. “Wherever you go, I’ll find you!”

“I hope so,” he says, then he stands up and heads for the door, opening it. He tosses a blanket to you to cover yourself with and says, “You better get going. Head to the edge of the forest and you’ll be back in the museum.”

You wrap the blanket around yourself as you walk through the door. You stop and look back at him. “What’s your name?”

He smiles. “Touya.”

Minutes later, you’re back in the museum, standing in front of the werewolf display. The man who was once bent back in pain is standing calmly in the cabin now, looking at you without moving. You wave to him before turning to leave. “See you later, Touya!”

#dabi x reader #dabi #touya todoroki #todoroki touya #touya x reader #bnha x reader #dabi smut #dabi x you #x reader #candys2kevent

[adobe-outdesign]

Have you reviewed the lilipup line already? If not what do you think?

I want to like Lillipup more than I actually do because it is so very cute, with its big eyes and little dot mouth. Lillipup, like the rest of this line, is based off of a terrier (most likely a Yorkshire terrier), which will become more evident as it evolves. The fur around its face is unique, and makes it stand out a bit from the rest of the line.

However, there are just a bunch of strange design choices here. Like, the face is so flat there's just straight up no muzzle, not even a line indicating one. It also is the only one of the line to have a red nose... for some reason.

Also, the dark blue patch on the back is meant to tie into the rest of the line, but it looks out of place here; I don't think it would've been a problem to just let the dark blue come in at the second stage, and if you really wanted blue you could've had some blue accents elsewhere on the body, like the ears or paws. Speaking of the paws, the way they have a division but are all one color is also strange; why not use the cream from the face to better balance the colors? Don't get me wrong, the design as a whole isn't bad, but all of the details kind of throw me on it.

Herdier's probably my favorite out of this line. I've heard some people say it's too similar to an actual dog, but I think the combo of the shepherd's cloak-like fur on the back and the design of the facial fur are pretty interesting. The colors are better balanced here, with the cream fur drawing attention to the face while the dark blue eyes and nose balance the color of the back fur. The stern expression is also fun and really gives it a good sense of personality. It's nothing crazy or anything, but its a pretty solid design all around.

Stoutland takes what Herdier has going on and cranks it up to 11 with an absolutely insane mustache that would make an Alakazam feel ashamed. It also majorly grows out its cloak, becoming much shaggier in the process; kind of like a Newfoundland.

Visually, it shares a lot of the same elements as Herdier, with the cream drawing attention to its magnificent mustache, dark blue fur that completely covers its body, and an even sterner expression. However, I think the body becomes a bit too shapeless due to the amount of fur on it; even an actual Newfoundland has a good amount of anatomy under the fur, whereas Stoutland is weirdly rectangular. (The difference is the fur going down to the feet instead of stopping higher up around the stomach, and the back sloping down in the middle.)

Also, I'm not a huge fan of the coat becoming greenish at the base. I get wanting to break up that color a bit, but something more blue would've been better. The lighter color also probably should've been further down, as you can't see much of the dark blue due to the mustache covering most of it.

Anyway, these are some pretty good dogs, minus a few weird visual quirks. The concept and execution are super simple, but each stage manages to be unique despite that. These guys should be plenty pleasing for anyone who's a fan of terriers, that's for sure.

#lillipup #herdier #stoutland #pokemon #pokemon reviews

[averyroundpumpkin]

First Meet!

⚠️ Warnings : Leo being creepy , toxic relationships

Characters: Addams!Leonardo , Addams!Jotaro , Addams!Uagi

Summary: Leo "meets" Jotaro

Addams!au belongs to @lackablazeical. Please check them out , they're really good!!

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Jotaro's never been in this place before. Infact , he's never been in this country before. All he remembers is his big brother, Ishida, waking him up one night and telling him they were gonna play a game called:"sneak away".

With that being said , his brother took him out of bed and carried him out of the palace, only stopping when Riko hopped in their way. He couldn't tell was his sister was snickering about, only hearing the words "telling mom~" and "trouuublee~" in an odd sing song tone.(his head was pressed against Ishida chest fur in an attempt to keep him quiet)

After some time , Riko hopped out of the way when Ishida promised her something and ran away giggling down the halls. He didn't pay much attention to what was going on , only pricking his ears when Ishida put him down in the garden.His face and tone of voice changed from cautious to serious when he whispered: "Look , you need to keep quiet from now on okay? We can't let mother know we're taking you to see Usagi."

After hearing those words , Jotaro was so excited that he couldn't remember anything that happened after that.

And now he was here. In the strange place. Sitting down infront of a huge projector, watching what they called "Jupiter Jim" movies.

But he felt that something was off, Usagi had told him to sit still , keep quiet and try not to draw too much attention to himself before hurriedly walking off. He couldn't understand what had gotten Usagi acting so weird, but since he was new here, he thought it made sense. Plus , it was nice not having a million people surrounding him and watching his every move for once.

Watching his every move..........

Jotaro's ears went forward as he stood up and turned his head to look in the direction of a stack if crates. He stared intently , straining his eyes to try and make out what he could see in the dark corner.

There was a head! He saw a the upper half of a head peaking out from the crates...watching him.

Jotaro's nose twitched. "Hello!" He called out.

The figure moved upward a little , showing the rest of its head. Before it slinked upward fully, hopping on the crate it was hiding behind. Jotaro watched as the strange figure stared at him , stepping back a little. "Hi! Do you live here with 'Sagi?"

The figure chuckled, hopping down and slithering out of the darkness. "Why, I do!"

It was a turtle, like the ones in the pool back at the garden! Just this was bigger...and walked on two legs... and wore a blue mask....and was smiling at him.

"What are you watching there?" The blue masked turtle lifted his head to look at the projector screen.

"Jim." Jotaro chirped , "I'm watching Jim."

"Are you sure you should be watching this?" The turtle asked , placing a hand on the little bunny's shoulder and leading him to sit on the couch with him. "This seems scary , a little bunny like you shouldn't be watching something like this." Leo said as he watched an alien's arm get blown off on the big screen.

"I dunno," Jotaro shrugged. "'Sagi told me to sit here and don't move."

Jotaro saw the turtle's eyes widen for a split second. "Is that so?" "Uh huh"

"Well I guess you can watch then." The turtle chucked , lifting his legs and crossing them on the couch.

"Do the aliens always get hurt like this in these?"

"Yes , they do."

"Why?"

"Because they deserve it. They never get out the way fast enough. They're silly , and they don't pay attention to their surroundings. Quite pathetic if you ask me." The turtle whimsically replied, resting his face in his hands.

Although Jotaro's eyes were fixed on the projector's screen. He could tell that the turtle was watching him , he decided that it would be nice to say his name.

"My name's Jotaro "

"Why its nice to meet you Jotaro," the turtle took his pinky in his hand and gently shook it. "My name's L-"

"LEO!" A shriek rang through the air , causing Jotaro's ears to hurt.

Before he could turn around and look at the cause of the sound, he was being grabbed and hoisted into the air. And now his head was over someone's shoulder , a gentle hand pressing it down.

"Leo , what are you doing here!?!" Usagi's tremulous voice echoed in his ears. He sounded frantic.

"I'm watching "Jim" with Jotaro." The turtle chuckled , getting up and walking over to them. Jotaro adjusted himself so he could look at him.

"Why , he's so small and adorable. He looks like he could be our son~." The turtle's honeyed , soothing voice caused his ears to twitch , much better sounding than the shriek that had hurt them.

Usagi made a noise of disgust as he rapidly stepped back. "Ugh-just-no! Jotaro , c'mon. Let's go do something else, okay?"

Jotaro barely nodded as Usagi turned his back , walking briskly out of the room , mumbling something to himself.

As Jotaro looked over Usagi's shoulder, he saw the turtle waving at him, wiggling his fingers.

With not much else to do , Jotaro waved back.

This is another gift for @lackablazeical 🌹(creator of au) since I accidentally uploaded "pizza week (or not) unfinished and deleted it

Also because I love Jotaro already

Please check them out. And listen to the warnings!

[fairly-linked]

Hello if request are open. Can I request twilight headcanon with his werewolf reader?

-🐺

Ooh, sure! Good idea! If it's okay, we're gonna say reader becomes a werewolf by night. Enjoy! 💕

Twilight With a Werewolf Reader:

When you're still new to the chain, he's a bit confused as to why you constantly offer to take watch. He doesn't understand; everyone needs sleep. Why were you so adamant about not getting it?

This draws suspicion, and not just from him. Everyone's a bit on edge around you, the two most cautious ones being the Old Man and the Vet, naturally.

Time does eventually allow you to take watch, but someone else has to accompany you, to which you oblige, but on one condition: it has to be the same person every time.

Knowing Time already has his hands full, Twilight steps up to the plate. It's the older brother instinct in him, he can't help it.

At first, Time's pretty hesitant. That's a dead giveaway that you're up to something, he just doesn't know what yet... but after some convincing, claiming you have a hard time seeing in the dark and need it to be the same person so you aren't fooled, he reluctantly gives in.

So he obliges, letting Twilight take over. Twilight's a bit nervous at first, he doesn't really know you... but for the sake of his group, he swallows his fear and does it anyway.

Right before sundown, you saunter off somewhere, and no one can find you. Twilight notices this, and he realizes you're much like him in that sense, when he turns.

Hours pass, and he starts to get a bit worried. Had something happened? It's dark out now, where were you? Everyone else had gotten tired of waiting for you and went to sleep.

Twilight jumps suddenly at a rustle in the bushes, drawing his sword quickly.

"...Twilight? Are you the only one up...?" he hears. It's your voice, calling out softly so as to not wake anyone.

"...Yep, jus' me..." he replies carefully.

"...Promise me you won't be scared? I won't hurt you, I promise..."

At the frightened tone of your voice, he sighs, lowering his sword. "I promise... you can come out...."

...Twilight is not prepared for what he sees. It's... you? But you're... you look like a werewolf. Golden eyes, (h/c) fur, unnaturally long claws, and you're much taller than before... several inches taller than him, even. he's sure you're much faster, too.

"Whoa... (y/n), that's you...?" He questions, moving closer in an attempt to wrap his head around your new form.

He hears you sigh. "Yes, it's me... This is why I wanted the same person to be up with me. I didn't know how you'd all react..."

'That's reasonable,' Twilight thinks to himself. "How...?"

You sigh again. "I was cursed by one of Ganondorf's most powerful mages years back. I've brought this issue to every magic dealer in existence, and none have been able to break the curse."

"...I see." He says. "Well... you and I ain't so different. You keep my secret, and I'll keep yours?" he asks, extending a hand to shake. You oblige, an eyebrow raised. "Uh, sure? But what secret...?"

He only smiles, putting a hand over the strange-looking pendant around his neck. It becomes too bright for you to see clearly, but the next thing you know, a wolf with the same markings Twilight bears on his face stands where the rancher once stood. You know it's him.

"Whoa..." you gawk, kneeling to get a better look at him. He only stays this way for a minute before changing back.

As the light fades, you see him standing in front of you as a normal Hylian once again. "Some o' them don't know, so I don't wanna blow my cover. Also, I can't talk when I'm like that anyway..."

Thankfully, no one wakes up. The two of you have a lively conversation until Time gets up for the next watch.

When he sees you, he freezes, not recognizing you at first; but Twilight's quick to explain So that's what you'd been up to.

You saunter back off into the woods when Time takes his watch, sleeping in a nearby cave.

If anyone tries to ask why you were sleeping so far away, you just claim you need privacy. Usually does the trick.

Either way, Time sees no harm in keeping you even if you turn in such a way. He knows he and Twilight will have to explain it to the boys eventually.

But for now? Twilight's just happy to have someone to relate to.

#linked universe #bek.answers #lu twilight #🐺 anon #thank you anon #bek's.fics

[n7punk]

Question!/looking for a respected opinion. Do you think in post-canon, Catra has battle scars from fights with she ra? I feel like in a lot of fic, emphasis is always placed on adora’s wounds from catra (even though theyve healed). Even if its not something youve sxplored, do you think post canon that catras battle scars from adora woild be addressed between the two?

Oh, Catra absolutely has scars from the war, most prominently her neck scar obvs. I do think they're mostly "small" because while Catra is shown scraped up, she doesn't have major bleeding injuries really because, well, she can't heal like Adora can. Her injuries were usually more internal too - her ribs crack during the Battle of Bright Moon and such, which is insanely painful, potentially deadly if it fucks with her lungs, but doesn't leave scars. Catra's injuries really get undersold and discussed a lot less. Adora does take more punishment in general (not just from Catra), but she is also in less actual danger from it thanks to She-ra/healing, whereas one burst blood vessel in Catra's lungs could kill her.

Adora hurt Catra just like Catra hurt her; the way Catra hurt her was just more visually shocking because she could tear into her with her claws "without consequences" thanks to the healing factor. Adora still had chronic pain from those injuries and Catra had to go home and nurse her own injuries as they healed naturally. People tend to draw scars, write about the girls confronting them, etc, but something not leaving a scar doesn't make it less painful. I'm of the mind that scars don't necessarily need to be catalogued and "confronted" (it's good for some, pointless for others, and I don't think the scars themselves matter to Adora, I could see it more for Catra though), but they can be a gateway for talking about the important/painful parts that need to be addressed, which is part of why I haven't written a scars fic and don't plan to (in canon, at least, scars come up in SLAS and strange disease).

Catra's fur would help disguise any scars that aren't thick enough to disturb the pattern, so aside from her neck they wouldn't be that visually obvious. I think the set on Adora's back from the velvet glove would be more prominent than most of Catra's aside from her neck (I headcannon that transforming into She-ra right after healed her back, but left scars, unlike injuries she receives while She-ra, which fully go away), but they're also under her shirt, so Catra's neck scar ultimately would be on display a lot more to other people.

I think Adora has small scars similar to Catra, from smaller injuries received as herself when she wasn't (yet) transformed as She-ra, but I don't think they show up really well. I allude to this in You & I (& Me) when Catra mentions a thin scar missing on her brow, from a tiny piece of shrapnel from a tank explosion she was near during the war (an event I made up, filling in the gaps we don't see for the 2-3 years of the war).

I also think Adora has some... fun <.< scars acquired from Catra post-war (accidental or otherwise, nails down the back) which mix with her actual scars and kind of help "reclaim" them because then when she glances at a scar, it could be from playing as kids, it could be from training in the horde, it could be from fighting each other, or it could have been Catra getting excitable and grabbing her arm too hard, you know?

I headcannon Adora gets better at wielding She-ra's powers after unlocking her again (and after breaking the sword in general, because I think it was stifling her/limiting Adora's access to her power) so she probably gets better at healing and has no trouble doing away with her injuries completely without scars. Does she ever learn to heal her - or Catra's - old scars? I don't know, and I don't think that she would want to, at least for herself, and I think Catra wouldn't want that either because then when she wakes up from a nightmare and feels her neck, the reminder is gone and even knowing it has been healed, it probably would feel like she is in another Prime simulation.

In general, I think Adora's scars (barring the ones on her back, which are a bit more prominent, but still not that thick/dark thanks to She-ra's help) are the thin white kind (the ones that are really soft/delicate to the touch), which for someone already pale, don't stand out much at all. For Catra, I think they're the pink kind that are slightly raised (smoothish on top, a little ropey feeling "inside" if you rub at them). I go back and forth on the back of her neck being pink scar tissue, or her fur (thinly) growing back pale/white there with a completely different quality to it - which I think can happen to injuries in animals, but I'm basing that off a werewolf book I read as a kid so it could be utter horsecock. I've been trying to remember that book's title for years but I mostly remember the MC getting a white streak from an injury to the base of her neck.

Anyway, that's my thoughts on their scars lol

#ask #anon

[wixelt]

...that thing about players adapting and Anne as the Grimm Reaper got me thinking

Players aren't just effected by their environment. Think about Doc. His drocs were incorporated from fan design, his horns were incorporated from fan design.

A simmilar thing can be said about Rendog's ears. How often do creators add lore pieces to their skins?

Players are very close to deific, even if they have no divine power. They're affected by belief and what is believed about them. Appearance, power, tendencies

Decisions.

The Calamity trio are all probably going to become players. By the time they leave Amphibia, they're probably already at some between stage due to their tutaliges in player magics. They are that much closer to immortal.

So as time goes on, the three main species of amphibians begin to form hero cults to their respective saviors,

The girls had all gained tendencies of their foster races from their stay so nothing is really notices at first, but maybe the girls start getting unnatural highlights in their hair. Maybe Anne can never keep things from getting stuck in hers. Maybe Sasha starts having hers glow and heat up and blow strangely even without wind. Maybe Marcy's gives way to white almost-fur.

Maybe their eyes start glowing an odd color again. Maybe some powers they never expected to get back begin returning.

After all, of the things you let go, you'd be surprised what makes it's way back to you.

But maybe that's not all. Maybe the frogs talk about how good of a Gaurdian Anne will make. About how they know what she'll choose, she simply can't help it with how big her heart is. Maybe they start praying to her because maybe she's already up there, looking down on them and listening.

And maybe that belief becomes a self fulfilling prophesy.

Reaper Anne's her own AU by @wolfinshipclothing that I highly recommend for Amphibia fans. They're really good & absolutely worth a read, but i'm not going to appropriate their ideas.

As for everything else in this ask, though...

Players - as you say - are born partly of not just their environment but also perception. Like some divine beings - though only some players are divine, they definitely border on higher states of being - players self-actualize, their looks - beyond the skin deep aspect of changing clothing - & abilities shifting based on others' views of them & how they in turn view those perceptions.

Doc's the iconic example (though Ren & Stress are also apparent), his form having been augmented repeatedly over time as he chose to embrace perceptions others had of his achievements. That said, something like his robotic prosthetics do not fall into this category, being compensation for getting nerfed after a certain battle he came out on top in.

As may be clear, these changes are only usually by will of the player themselves, & the influence of outside factors can render unexpected alterations, as they would to any non-player.

Regardless, the effect of belief on a player is a cycle. Ideas gain traction - usually factual but sometimes imagined - & if the player chooses to embrace them or is forced to take them on, that change is actualised & feeds back into the belief.

And as their initial adventure in Amphibia draws to an end, this is something Anne, Sasha & Marcy start to learn first hand.

Though the mechanics aren't entirely understood - & the exact final circumstances that led to it for each girl are for now not something we'll touch on - the trio are on the border between non-player & player.

Players beget players, to a certain extent, & each teen's had several Hermits tutor them in one aspect of player skill or another (False's combat for Anne, Scar's magics for Sasha & Mumbo's redstone for Marcy, to name only a few). Past a certain point, those skills become inherent. Ingrained. Something they draw on as easily as breathing.

And around them forms everything else a fledgling player inherits.

The day Anne - months after the invasion - accidentally drops one of her tennis rackets into a weird pocket space & realizes she's "grown" a player inventory is deeply startling for her.

She'll focus on that for now, though - as will Sasha & Marcy.

She isn't quite ready to comtemplate the ramifications of possibly being immortal.

Besides, there's much more to think about in the meantime.

The "hero cults" aren't straight up divine worship. The people of Amphibia recognize these three girls - though their saviors - are not gods. They're mortal - even by the Hermit definition - & flawed. So these "cults" are more a societal idea formed from the gratitude of the folk they saved. A pervasive perception of Anne, Sasha & Marcy that remains in public consciousness. Not idealized, but still given a place of respect & admiration.

And though this doesn't halt physical aging until the girls are much older - actualization is a choice even if its subconscious at times & I imagine the girls would want to grow up - the girls do see the reverence they earned as heroes begin to impact their existence as they take on the mantle of "player" & their forms become malleable.

Things such as the quirks of a given amphibian race are brushed off, at first. These are expected when you spend enough time immersed in a culture & there's a good chance the girls would've picked these up anyway. Regardless, they never really go away.

But Anne does start to notice things, after the initial startling & getting corroborating incidents from Sasha & Marcy. The way she always has leaves in her hair, as when she tries to remove them they come back in similar spots no matter where she is (she barely notices them anyway, as if they're not even there). The way her eyes seem to develop a permanent fleck of blue that grows or shrinks based on her mood, matched by a very subtle highlight in her hair.

And if it wasn't for her opting for sturdier footwear now, she instinctively knows she'd be losing a shoe every other day.

Sasha likewise develops marks of pink in her eyes & hair, & Marcy green. Sasha's hair pulses & dances at times - usually when she's upset or angry - as if driven by an inner fire. Marcy's may or may not develop that highlight of white-ish fur alongside the green (I like the idea, but you'll have to explain the reasoning).

And then, of course, their calamity powers.

The circumstances of the Guardian's "test" are up in the air for now, but coming away from the invasion, Anne notices the power the trio gained in those final moments has - while waning - not entirely faded.

With their new immortality & other factors at play, the Guardian wasn't able to get the successor they wanted, but regardless of whether it was direct intervention (remember what I said about outside forces) or something they simply allowed to happen, these abilities are here to stay, now an ingrained part of their self-image as players.

Because of the things they lost or chose to let go of, they can think of worse things that could've come back around.

Anne decides they need to consult the Hermits over this, & Gem especially in regard to their powers. She's probably the closest match to what they now have, after all.

And as I implied, the circumstances of the finale may not lend themselves well to the Guardian having the ability to easily pick a successor. That said, given the way the offer was presented & shared, is it any wonder at least some of the traits espoused find a genuine place in Anne's outlook going forward, actualization or not?

Because Guardian or not, Amphibia's always going to have someone looking out for them. :)

#hermitphibia au #hermitcraft #hermitblr #hermitcraft au #amphibia #amphibia au #anne boonchuy #sasha waybright #marcy wu #amphibia guardian #docm77 #renthedog #stressmonster101 #falsesymmetry #goodtimeswithscar #mumbojumbo #geminitay

[spacexmagicxandxsheepxbleats]

“When I look in your eyes, I don’t see a monster. I see someone in pain.” - Zavala to Mar

TW: Body horror, trauma talk and the like.

His tone gave her pause, not so much the words themselves, but the way he said them.

Turning, the bells, bones and other bits adorning her ancient armour chiming softly, she regarded the Titan Vanguard wordlessly.

"...When, is the last time you saw my eyes...?," she whispered, her words softly slurred and distorted, not just by the wreckage of her helm but that of her face beneath it, "...You haven't seen them in over a century..."

Despite the thin layer of venom coating her tone Zavala closed the distance between them, grabbing hold of the intact curl of the Ram's right horn, "I think it's time we changed that."

Pulling, drawing the smaller, stubborn Risen closer he rested his free hand against her shoulder as he lifted the blackened skull off her head.

Hanging the nightmarish visage on a near by tree's branch Zavala returned his attention to the woman, his hand brushing tangles of matted, silver hair from her face.

Mar tensed beneath the hand on her shoulder...

He had an idea of what to expect but was still unprepared for what he saw, a grimace crossing his face that ebbed into sadness. The Vanguard's hand left her shoulder, pressing instead to her right cheek, his thumb under her chin so that he could turn her head.

"...What do you see...?," Mar murmured, her emerald iris' fractured and interwebed with lines of pupil that had bled out of line, fading into the murk of her sclera, seemed unfocused.

But these weren't what his gaze was drawn too, instead it was the ragged hole that ruined the left side of her mouth and cheek. Her teeth were broken, distorted in the way they sat in her jaw or missing all together. The scarring pulled at what flesh and muscle remained, drawing taught furrows around the edges and pulling slightly at her lower eyelid.

The damage was still relatively fresh.

"How.....?," he breathed drawing those shattered, glossy eyes to gaze in his general direction.

"...The Hounds you three send to my doorstep...how else?," her volume didn't increase but the curt sharpness stung, a 'snarl' pulling at the intact corner of her mouth as the man's free hand took up residence on her left cheek, his thumb passing the outline of the damage.

"A Stormcaller decided she wanted to see how much current I could take, turns out, it's a lot but I'll never see without that helm or glasses ever again... and Outlaw," the name was a growl through gritted teeth, "thought my diet lacked Iron..."

"Where is Revenant...?"

Zavala's question paused her would be tangent, and for a moment a spark of fear flashed in his eyes, was the ancient Ghost...?

"Alive," she breathed, "...rough as myself but, alive...," pealing the man's hands from her face, holding them in her own a moment, Mardoll drew a deep breath, held it, and sighed through her nose, "he, can't mend me as much as he used to and I'm sure if I die..."

"He wouldn't be able to raise you...", the Titan finished, giving her hands a gentle squeeze. Releasing one to retrieve her helm he lead her down the path he'd found her on and into a nearby clearing where his Jumpship rested in the tall grass, "Stay for a while, talk to me...?"

Handing her helm back to her, watching her turn it over in her hands fully anticipating her to leave him standing there, Zavala waited quietly.

Sighing again, pulling a pair of chains over her shoulders from under her matted fur mantle, she clipped them to iron rings set into the base of the Helm's horns, flipping and lowering the armour to hang at her back before shuffling through her armour's inner pockets for her strange glasses.

Donning the worn, thickly lensed, round frames she took a moment to allow her eyes to adjust and focus before speaking softly, "What, do you want to talk about...?"

"Your hair, first of all...when's the last time you brushed it..?," gesturing her towards his ship his Ghost, Targe, made a cautious appearance, having set a small camp under one of the ship's wings.

The Ghost materialized a brush, comb and a fine pair of Zavala's sewing scissors before making a hasty retreat.

"...May as well have you sheer it off...," a small flicker of humor entered her softly spoken words, sitting at the Titan's feet to let him untangle the nest of knots. It would seem, this was something she tolerated during prior visits.

Revenant, her Ghost, watched quietly from the safety of the spruce trees around them. Catching small snippets of conversation, as the time passed and the sun made to set.

Of all the people who still held hope for her innocence, the mangled Light was glad it was the one person in the Tower with the highest sense of integrity...

#ask answered #destiny rp #musings #tw body horror and trauma

[steakout-05]

cats make me feel a certain way, like its a mix of adoration and love but also a sense of sadness as if they were only a fleeting beauty never to be experienced again

i remember seeing the video 'sad toy cats' when i was really little (it's called 'fur displacement test' now). it's an old video animated in a 3D animation program testing fur displacement with cat models, but the thing about it is how surreal it is. especially the audio, it's strangely saddening and beautiful, like it was sad lamenting of a cat and its simple existence, the way many people simplify its existence to just "meow meow i am a cat" and how small it feels in this world. and then the video is just fur testing on some cats, but it's so surreal in a way i can't explain and put into words properly. i can't express how i feel properly but i really like it and i have such a strong personal connection to cats to the point where i cry, they're such lovely animals :)

oh yeah and i just felt like drawing cats on ms paint with my mouse lol

#ms paint

[sezja]

And this

telling each other how proud they are of them

Things have started settling down at last, Guydelot notes, letting his gaze travel from one hunter to the next - Tailfeather's not all that unaccustomed to occasional trouble, it seems, though he doubts, somehow, that a half-dozen bandersnatches charging into the settlement unprovoked is a new one. The beasts sowed chaos and panic for a good while before they'd been dealt with - three of them lie slain in the late-afternoon sunshine, and the rest all fled to lick their wounds.

"Bloody Gnath," one of the hunters says, and spits. "They did sommat to stir up the beasts, you mark my words."

"They sound charming." Guydelot wrenches one of his arrows out of one of the fallen bandersnatches, peering at it - unbroken, that's lucky. He'd not fletched all these arrows to waste them on roving beasts. "Remind me not to tangle with 'em, eh?"

The man claps his shoulder amicably, grinning beneath his furred mask. "You held your own, though - you and your friend. Good on you! We weren't about to save your hides." And off he walks, whistling as he goes, even as another pair of hunters shoo Guydelot away so they may begin dealing with the bandersnatch's body: no sense letting the pelt, fangs, bones, claws, blood, and meat go to waste, right?

My friend, is it?

He lets his feet carry him where they will, where he knows they will. Where they always do, these days.

Sanson sits by the river, scrubbing the blood from his clothes; his lance rests on the ground behind him, already cleaned. Guydelot stays at a distance for a moment, watching - it's becoming something of a guilty pleasure, he quietly acknowledges, watching Sanson in these unguarded moments. His intent focus, the little furrow of his eyebrows. With his coat removed, Guydelot can more easily see the powerful line of his shoulders, and the way his back flexes beneath his shirt as he scrubs.

Not for the first time, Guydelot burns with the desire to put his hands on the man, and the battle fury still pounding through his veins, and the lingering wash of his own songs, makes it still harder to resist the temptation. He draws a deep breath, steadying himself.

Remember, you hate him. Right? You do hate him, right?

He clears his throat. "Still alive, then?"

Sanson starts, peering over at him in surprise. "Yes, of course. Are you-" He pauses. "You are unharmed?"

"They never stood a chance." He shrugs.

"I heard you singing," Sanson says... a bit shyly, perhaps, if Guydelot dares to be any judge. He doesn't meet Guydelot's eye, preferring to return his attention to wringing the water from his coat. "That song. Is it new? The one you were working at several nights ago?"

A little thrill darts through him, an emotion he can't recognize; too quick for him to get a grasp on. The ground feels abruptly unsteady, like any moment he might drop through the earth itself - or fly, mayhap. Hot and cold all at once, ready to either sing or shout, laugh or rage.

Why does he always feel this way around Sanson these days?

"Aye, I reckoned it was as good a time as any to put it to the test," he replies, grateful that his voice sounds steady to his own ears. He'd not realized Sanson was paying attention to his efforts at composing a new battle anthem, never mind that he might recognize it being sung from across the entire village, in the middle of a scuffle with the local wildlife. Hells. Is he dizzy? "Good ear," he adds, hoping it sounds lighthearted, praying it doesn't sound like he's as breathless as he feels.

Sanson doesn't appear to have noticed. Perhaps there are gods.

"That was... well done," Sanson manages, sounding a touch strangled, himself. Well, small wonder. Praise doesn't come easy to him, Guydelot reckons... not half so easily as criticism. Strange how that doesn't prickle at him the way it used to. Sanson continues, "You... you handle yourself well in battle, Guydelot - not just today, but in aiding Ser Alamenain and Celaine as well."

"Aye, well, I was a Quiverman before I was a bard." He strolls to the river, dipping the bloody head of his salvaged arrow into the stream, just deep enough to clean it. "And I've been firing arrows into things since I took my very first toddling steps. I ought to know a thing or two about it, I reckon."

Sanson shakes his head. "That isn't at all what I meant."

"Oh?" He flicks the arrow up, inspecting it. "Fancy that."

"What I mean to say is... given your.... your reputation-"

"You didn't think I had it in me to fight?"

"To... be a disciplined combatant, let us say," Sanson says, spreading his coat out to dry on the grass. He sits back on his heels, studying Guydelot curiously. He's been getting that look a lot lately, too, Guydelot reflects - that same measured, curious watching, as though the man is waiting for him to do something, or perhaps hoping to see something in him. What it might be, the bard can't guess.

"Aye, well," he says, but isn't sure what he means to follow it up with. He can't even really argue with Sanson's estimation of him; after all, disciplined isn't a word anyone's ever used to describe him - save maybe in the sense of saying he needed to "be disciplined;" he'd heard that one often enough.

He tries again. "Well, look at you, eh? Didn't you put down one of these beasts yourself?"

"I-" Sanson blinks. "I should hope a man of the military could successfully defeat a mere beast-"

"Didn't you get yourself thrashed by a treant?"

"There was a pack of treants," Sanson replies, hotly, color rising in his face. "I managed to subdue a number of them before Eve arrived-"

"And then you got thrashed by a treant."

"I was surrounded," Sanson protests, his hands curling into fists on his thighs. "My promised bard had not seen fit to join me!"

"I came when I got my orders." Maybe not straightaway, sure, and perhaps he'd taken the longest, most meandering path to get there, taking his leisurely time strolling through the Shroud, chattering with Pukno Poki as he went. And mayhap he'd watched from a distance while Sanson, brutally outnumbered, tangled with the treants. And when Eve made her appearance, slaying two of the remaining creatures with grace and ease that made Guydelot think, That! That's what a bard's meant to look like! And then he'd made his own entrance, and made the acquaintance of the pompous prat before him.

Why's that all feel like a fond memory now?

Guydelot shakes himself as though to shake off the memory, and shrugs. "Never mind. Forget the treants. You did alright today." He adds, "And when we helped Celaine with the cull. You took that blow to the shoulder and kept on fighting." Even he had to admit to a grudging respect for the man's nerves, and his skill with the lance was no joke - even if his company lacked a certain sparkle, Sanson was a good companion to have on the battlefield.

We fight well together.

His heart stutters.

"Well, that's all the compliments I've got stored up for the day," he says, stretching. "I think I'll go take a nap. Maybe," he adds, intending to needle Sanson, trying to put them back on familiar ground. "Maybe I'll go find myself some company, eh? I always sleep better with someone warm in the bed with me."

Sanson picks at a stray thread on his shirt's hem. "Perhaps I could join you."

He freezes. His heart's in his ears, pounding so loud he can't hear himself think. "Pardon?"

Sanson clears his throat, but doesn't meet his eyes. "You did say you would sleep better with company, yes? I mean only to say that I... I'm here, after all, and I'm willing..."

"You do realize the sort of company I meant?"

"I know what I'm offering!" Sanson looks up at last, his cheeks blazing, but his eyes are bright. "Well?"

Say yes, you idiot, he orders himself, and the word is right there on his lips - how easy would it be to just... hold his hand out to Sanson and lead the way back to their bunk? The makeshift barracks they've been sleeping in will be vacant this time of day; they'll have it to themselves, all to themselves. It doesn't have to mean a damn thing, no more than any other partner Guydelot's bedded in his life - just sex, clean and easy, something to burn away all the mess that lies between them, even if just for a few hours.

He wants it, so bad it could kill him. He's wanted it since Sanson's too-quick kiss on the road here, when he'd stayed up the whole night knowing if he followed Sanson into his tent, he'd regret it.

Would he still regret it now?

There's less poison between them these days, more of a begrudging mutual acceptance. And there's this ache in him, that need that draws him back to Sanson, always back to Sanson, as though he can't bear to be away from the man for long. Desire, sure, but he wanted Sanson Smyth the moment he'd clapped his eyes on him; he's no stranger to desire. This is something else, something fierce, and it scares the piss out of him - the way he feels like he's standing on the edge of something dark and deep, every time he looks into those too-blue eyes!

In the same instant he wants nothing more in all the world than to spend this night cradled between Sanson's thighs, he knows he also wants more beyond it; he wants a thousand nights more like it to follow, and that... that...

I don't want it like this, he realizes, marveling, a little thunderstruck. Not like this, not a dirty mattress in a hunters' camp a thousand malms from home, while we still halfway hate each other.

The thundering desire calms, cools, curls away somewhere deep inside of his heart, there to be fetched up later.

Later.

"Some other time, mayhap," he hears himself say instead, smiling. "I don't want company after all, all of a sudden. I'll catch up with you when I wake up, eh?"

And off he walks, tangled in his own emotions. A long lie-down by himself in the dark sounds like a good idea, after all.

#sanson smyth #guydelot thildonnet #my writing #they kind of....... dance around actually saying it because this is #you know. before they could. like #communicate at all effectively. #THIS ONE GOT AWAY FROM ME........ but i like it

[invincipals]

One day I'll write something real and coherent about my complex relationship with Humanity. But for now just a rant. I am a human but I am not. I'm inhuman only because I'm treated that way.

...And people don't normally treat me like I'm human.

I am a pet dog at my boyfriends side. People turn to him and ask about me. If I sit in the middle of a group, they lean forward and talk through me. I am an obstacle in the way. People bump their carts into my station at work because they didn't process my presence. They take items off my cart and walk away, seeing me as an NPC dispersing items and no more.

Unless I'm dressed up in an animal costume, surrounded by other costumed people. That is the only time I am truly treated like an equal.

People don't see me. I don't know why. It's like I'm at 50% opacity. I'm easy to miss, to ignore, to gloss over.

I am subtly dehumanized during a majority of my time, basically. And I've never had many friends. I ate lunch alone at a table, then hid in the school bathrooms so no one saw me being so alone. I had no one. I have very few. Only now, years after graduating high school and dropping out of college, am I slowly started to gather some IRL friends who understand me. It feels so different from my online friends. Who are valuable and loved, but... I do not think it helps my disconnect from humanity, to not see a human in front of me when I chat with my online friends.

I feel no connection to humans.

And yet... I still am one. I just... Am human. I've always loved animals, seen myself in them, but I could never find any one animal I connect to completely. Aside from cats. I heavily relate to cats because I have cat-type autism.

Maybe this is why I feel such a draw to humanoid feline characters. Such as my Manticore characters, humans genetically altered to have cat traits.

This is my ideal form. I imagine my pointed ears that can swivel or how my tail would sway as I walk, how it would curl and thrash as I stim, how it could wrap around me. How my short fur would bristle on my shoulders.

Hm... Yeah... I relate deeply to the Ideal of cats. Solitary creatures that show affection by sitting in the same room as you, that's hanging out and havin' fun! You can pet me but I get overstimulated easily and I'll bite you if you can't read my specific alien body language! I walk around so gently and quietly I seem to vanish and re-appear at random.

But I am not a cat. I'm a human who connects to and relates to cats a lot.

I do not know if I identify as an otherkin or therian in any way. Like, maybe I identify with cats, but I do not know if it's spiritual for me at all.

I am a human. No one wishes to see me as such, but I am.

I'm a human in the animal way. Humans are animals. I am a human animal. I do not fit in this strange society of yours. I'm... Different. I'm wild. I'm a stray cat forced into a house because you had to keep me safe but now my familiar streets are gone I can't taste my prey or interact with my colony. (Outside cats bad tho but, for the metaphor....)

I'm a human that wants to be the animal that I am and exist in my world outside of buzzing lights, stagnant air, concrete under my feet, lifeless grass.

I'm a human that does not deny the animal that I am.

#op #blog #my tumblr bio calls me a human and my bsky bio is “nonhuman human” because of these vibes

[untothebreach]

Every time i try to envision a happy, joyful, loving life and future for myself it feels like some kind of fake painting. It's like I'm watching some sort of shiny movie or sit-com version of my life where I actually go out and fix myself and have people care about me and am able to put in the effort to care about them, too.

Even imagining myself having a boyfriend feels like I'm playing immature, unrealistic make-believe in my head. The thought of having a cute, wonderful home space that I love or friends that actually care enough to come to my wedding or a partner I can live my life with and love feels strange. Hell, even thinking about having a cat is about the furthest I can do.

It's like... I genuinely never considered what my life would look like after college. For some reason that's the farthest my brain's plans ever went, concretely. Maybe 22. The last time I felt like I was steady and happy and living a life I could see a future in was a year ago. Truly anything could happen to me right now - it wouldn't change anything. Somehow I have so little faith in the world that I no longer believe a happy, stable, loving life for myself is possible, or maybe I never did.

It's not like I never thought I would live that long?? It's not a 'oh I didn't think I'd live past 25', or a 'oh I thought I was going to kill myself way earlier' things. I've never only rarely been actively suicidal, and I never told anyone about it. In my heart I know I'll live a decent life (I'll probably die of a stroke or a heart attack in my 50s, hopefully before I start losing my mind to dementia in my 70s), but practically I can't fathom it happening. I'm convinced I'll just stay the same and go with the flow until I die - what else is there even achievable? What even could I do? I'm at a loss for words. There's nothing there when I try to think.

In an ideal world, what's my 5 year plan? I'd like to have an apartment to myself. Definitely a cat, maybe Luke or maybe a new one with fluffy soft fur who purrs while I work. I'd like to have some hobbies to do. Maybe a little cafe nearby I can go to and do work or enjoy a drink while I watch the world. Somehow, a partner isn't there, despite wanting romance so much in theory. Somehow I'm entirely alone in this vision of 'five years from now'. I don't see what I do for a living - I don't see who is in my life. I don't even see myself going out much or doing things. I just see myself in an apartment, with a cat, drawing and doing hobbies and hoping to god I'm happy. It's soft there, and quiet, and I eat well and take care of myself. Seems nice.

Seems impossible.

#breachspeak #january 7 2024

[witches-and-weirdos]

🔪 FINISH HIM 🔪 [[betterwithafriend]]

(Another pre-hiatus ask from 3 years ago, pretty sure this was a kill me prompt, so I'm gonna kill the kid now with my worst muse @betterwithafriend)

Tera stumbled down the cave, painfully grasping her head. The screaming and chittering just wouldn't stop, it was unbearable for days now, maybe weeks even, time was too much of a meaningless blur to really tell. She didn't know where she was urged to go so badly, nor why, the only guess she had was something about those "Watchers" this place had frozen, some ancient horrid entities waiting to return or something. Would fit the bill.

"SHUT UP! SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP! I CAN'T GET THERE IF I FREEZE TO DEATH!" Her voice echoed ahead, shouted at the very top of her lungs without any concern for attracting whatever might live here, if anything. The stars weren't happy that she stopped to take shelter and they screamed louder and worse for it. The stars didn't understand blizzards. Maybe the stars should listen for once. "WILL YOU NOT-"

Draw, shoot!

One of the stalking shadows was actually real. A large beast of some short, big claws, strange antlers, now a smoking purple hole tunneling through in its chest. Her reflexes were still sharp. The living gun's unearthly scream died down along with the ones in her head, and a bit of clarity returned.

The beast was screaming in pain as the purplish corruption spread through its flesh and fur, disintegration slowly following up. Its screams mixed with another's, a small boy's, desperate with all the "Nooooo"-s and "You'll be fine!!!"-s and "Why did you do that?!"-s in the world. Tera grimaced from the headache, hand grasping her face again. "Fuck..." she walked closer. "Don't touch the wound. And no, it won't be fine. Or he? Whatever, it's dead."

"No! No, you'll fix him! You have to! Please! He's still okay, he's still breathing, there's time! It's okay Willump, you'll be okay, we'll heal you!" The boy wept and held this creature's hand, it couldn't scream anymore, its lungs were breaking down, but it gently laid a paw over him.

How utterly fucking bothersome. "You have a healer here? Or anyone?"

"No! It was just us! He wouldn't have hurt you! We were just-"

"Alone then? Nobody can help lift him?"

"Y... Yeah..."

No angry revenge backup to worry about then. She aimed and shot it through the head, a horrid screeching noise filled her and the boy's skull from the gun, wrong in every way. The boy froze in a mix of shock and terror.

"There, painless." She said dismissively, then aimed for the boy's head. His gaze slowly turned towards her. "Sorry, I guess."

#Tera