Nightwing Physique Novels & Stories

AURORA- His hands had visible veins that popped out every time he tossed the omelet in the pan. He had sharp jawline, and a faint grey color in his dark brown eyes. He was taller than me, a lot and his shoulders were broad comparatively less than Zeus--- His shoulders were broad and a lean midriff with flesh sticked to his skin forcing all the necessary curves to pop visible. He wore black shirt with matching pants and formal black sneakers, and still, I could see his defined frame. Black tends to hide solid curves but his were so firm that it was impossible to unsee them.

Then I remembered what he looked like. His striking figure stood tall and confident, his presence commanding attention despite the simplicity of his attire. Dressed in nothing but a pair of form-fitting, charcoal-gray shorts, his physique was on full display, showcasing a body sculpted through dedicated physical conditioning and an unwavering commitment to fitness.

“I would imagine that normally you aren’t knocked down by a freight train.” Kim grinned wryly. “Saw that, did you?” Nate was busy extricating himself from Alyssa when Kim glanced at her husband. Turning back to get a good look at the stranger, she saw he was just above six feet. Broad shoulders tapering down into a slim waist indicated the stranger knew his way around the gym. Or perhaps it was the way his tanned forearms peaked from beneath his long sleeve t-shirt. There was something so sexy about a man's forearms, wasn't there?

Slowly, his wounds heal himself and he got up to snatch a bottle of the scotch he was drinking from a guard beside him. His comrades sat beside him, all surrounded by their hypnotized victims, ready to quench their thirst to a brim. Like Vadim, his second in command, Lingard wear no shirt and he was built to the core. Looking like he has only eaten steroids all his life, he wore ripped jeans and a white fur coat that covers his shoulder to his back. His white hair and red eyes made him a terrifying creature with tattoos running around his chest up to his back.

His muscles strained against the fabric at his forearms, biceps and chest. His upper back and shoulders were broad with just the right amount of muscles and his neck was wider than most male werewolves at the base. In other words, he was just perfect. If that was what I was meant to do during these two hours every day, I wouldn’t mind coming down here to watch them train. But, I wasn’t fortunate enough to just sit around ogling their Alpha while they perfect the Crescent Moon pack’s fighting techniques.

A dagger spun idly between her fingers, flashing briefly in the torchlight before disappearing again into her palm. She wore no court gown tonight. No silken cascade of feathers and lace. Instead, her body was wrapped in close-fitting training garb, dark fabric hugging her narrow waist and lean curves, sleeveless to bare the pale, sinewy strength of her arms. Her raven-feathered wings flared slightly, half-unfurled, not quite posturing — but not at rest either. A predator stretching in the dark. "You shouldn't be here," Sylen said, his voice rough, clipped. He forced his gaze back to his blade, to the ground, to anything but her.

*POV=THIRD PERSON* A TRIP INTO THE RECENT PAST THREE NIGHTS AFTER THE TULLMERE WAREHOUSE MASSACRE ONE NIGHT AFTER VICTOR’S FALLOUT WITH KYRIEN !!TRIGGER WARNING!! Holy fucking hell. He looked the farthest thing from a street bum. His chiseled abs glistened with droplets of water cascading down his skin. His shoulders were broader than a fucking boulder. Victor could make out his piercing jawling, his huge biceps, the towel wrapped around his waist, the steady rise and fall of his enormous chest.

This was the Redberg Villager symbol for masculine appreciation and salutes or adieus. Two other youngster fighters, each fifteen years old, strutted with them. They were Cronos, Cornelius’s younger brother, a growing future Monster Knight about five-seven feet tall, and his partner Dawar, who had the impression of excess two digits and toes but was not gigantic in length. Both are good-looking, tall, sharp-featured, well-built, balanced weight, and intelligent.

Elena pushed the heavy armored door open, stepping down into the cold morning wind of the Nightshade square. The moment her boots hit the stones, a collective gasp rippled through the ranks of the Nightshade pack. The broken, naked girl they had watched being dragged away in chains just days ago was completely gone. Elena stood tall, clad in sleek, dark tactical leather that emphasized her powerful, shifted stance. The silver light of her Moonlight wolf pulsed subtly beneath her skin, giving her long brown hair an ethereal, shimmering quality under the morning sun. She looked less like an exile and more like an invading conqueror.

Maybe water could work its magic again. I moved closer to the bank, positioning myself where Stella would be able to see me if she looked up. Then, slowly and deliberately, I reached for the hem of my shirt and pulled it over my head.The night air was cool against my bare skin, raising goosebumps along my arms and chest. I had always been proud of my physique – years of warfare and training had sculpted my body into something powerful and intimidating. My torso was all hard muscle and defined lines, my chest broad and strong, my stomach carved into distinct ridges that spoke of countless hours of combat and exercise.