#and yes he is a coyote and not a wolf | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

colourstreakgryffin · 1 year ago

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So…

Alastor is a deer, yes? How would a relationship with him and a Coyote Reader go, I’ve been having brain rot over it for the past few days, it’s just to ironic

Much love xoxo

I definitely can do! Hehe. I love contrasts like this and I think about stuff like this too. I chose bears, not coyotes. It’s so silly yet perfect! Alastor out here hating dogs so this’ll be an enemies to lovers thing… not my favourite but new

Alastor- The Prey and the Predator

Let’s get this clear… Alastor does not like dogs. He actively dislikes dogs so when he finds you. A coyote sinner, he is not interested and he’ll avoid you like the plague. You remind him too much of the dogs of his past that he despises

For a while, Alastor has a one-sided disliking towards you. Solely because you’re a Coyote sinner but after some more time of working/staying at the hotel. He begins to examine you more as a person and less for your canine features

And he realises just how much of a prick he was being for… mostly no reason. You are a dog on the outside but you’re a dove on the inside, Alastor supposed he can try get around the whole Coyote thing you have… it’s not like you want to be a Coyote

Alastor goes from ignoring and snarling at you openly to shyly approaching you with a bouquet of roses and asking for you to forgive him. It’s so interesting how hew went from closed-off, uncaring and hateful to your overall presence to clearly having a fat crush on you. Your personality is beautiful, he eventually can ignore the dog features

Now. If you think you’re the one who’s dom in this relationship, just because you’re the coyote and Al’s the deer. You’re very wrong. Al’s a predator in a prey’s body, a wolf in deer’s fur. He is in charge and he’s the one hunting you down

Alastor has a mix of prey and predator instincts around you when you’re angry. He has the urge to subdue you when you’re in your own predator instincts mode but he also has the urge to avoid you. His predator urges always wins though

However, you swear you can smell delicious fresh venison off the Radio Demon… he does smell gorgeous but you’re not a cannibal like that

Alastor actually can’t help but find the way your tail wags when he pets through your ears and the soft dog-like whines of happiness you let out when hugging him… insanely cute. He may not like dogs but he has a exception for this precious coyote

Alastor doesn’t find it funny when you joke about eating him. It’s quite a sensitive topic and he regularly asks you to not make any type of joke, such as that. This connection you share with him may have grown from being a one-sided hatred to a full-blown relationship but that doesn’t mean he will completely excuse all dog-like mannerisms you have

Alastor actually really likes it when you climb into his lap and curl up. You’re the same size as Vaggie, maybe a bit taller. You’re a shorter person but you’re not so small to be identified as an actual Coyote, you just have the ears and tail but yet. Here you are, curled up and sleeping in his lap in the most canine-like way possible

Alastor has a bad sense of general personal hygiene but yet, he needs you to regularly check up on your own personal hygiene since he cannot stand the smell of your wet dirty fur…

Angel Dust definitely gave you a collar and leash for your birthday, as a sick joke and Alastor is like… “may we use it?”

Alastor enjoys grooming your fur. Your soft, you may let out a few coyote growls here and there but you’re not going to hurt him so he can trust you to stay obedient and still whilst he brushes through your ears and tail

Alastor has made a cute and convenient rule with you; you both communicate in emergencies through animal noises. You’ll bark coyote-like out, he’ll bleat deer-like out. It’s the way you two alarm each other of something happening. The second you bark, he knows something is going down and you’re calling for him

Alastor lets you touch him and his deer features, no problem and no need for permission. Your claws aren’t that strong and all you really have is incredible speed, agility, jaw strength and night vision. You don’t actually have any ability to harm him, even when he flinches here and there, out of pure instinct

Alastor calls you a ‘bitch’ all the time to other people and out loud, all to screw and mess around with you. He’s an asshole of a classy gentleman, he’ll be offensive. Even to his partner! Yes, you’re a bitch but you’re his bitch

Alastor, at one point, will finally open up about his trauma centred around dogs and explain to you exactly why he treated you so awfully at first. How he went from a hater to a lover. He is so glad you’re quite understanding and patient with him so when he lays down the rules of your relationship with him, you accept them and that grows his love for you even more

You’re incredible, for being part a wild vicious canine such as a Coyote, darling~!

“My dear. Let’s ease up on the growling, what’s gotten you so irritate? Did you get into another disagreement with my fellow, Husk?”

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kinsey3furry300 · 2 months ago

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A fanfiction experiment: does not knowing which fandom you are reading make a good twist?

I love fanfiction.

But I also love suddenly discovering new things when reading a book. I like being surprised by shifts in tone, genre or style when reading. And the tagging and filtering systems used on AO3 and fanfiction dot net are so very good at letting you know exactly what you’re getting before you start reading, that it’s almost imposable to get pleasantly surprised like that. It's a great system for avoinding stuff that mught be triggering or just not your jam, or for finding what you like, but I miss the suprise sometimes.

So, as an experiment, I’m going to post the following Poll, and a short fic underneath the “keep reading” with nothing in the tags to let you know which fictional world this is set in. This is fanfic, but you won’t know which fandom until you start reading.

Does working it out in real time what fandom you’re in make for a fun twist?

CW for swearing and one obloquie reference to what might be offscreen sex.

Tagging a bunch of my mutuals that I think are involved in fanworks from several different fandoms to see if they enjoy the twist or if this is dumb. Sorry. Feel free to share for a wider audience.

@rain-droplet @zarohk @myheartisbro-ken @thejakeformerlyknownasprince @moonlight-fox @jewishpangolin @sarifel-corrisafid-ilxhel @abigfuzzybear @sillycourtjester @nazguldivorce @natalieironside @eom-02 @flamingswordofdoom @ghost-avian @thisfuckingdork @nice-is-neat @gaykarstaagforever @noeudspapillons @kabukiaku @bunjywunjy Edit: Also than you to the user who pointed out the rather embarrassing spelling error that both me and my beta missed. Once again the dyslexia is gunning for me.

Unpaved road. Barbed wire fence. Montana cattle country, high summer. Car.

The man in the grey suit stood in the road looking at the open hood of the car, forlorn. He took out his phone for the third time and checked. No signal. His expression did not change at this.

Upon hearing hoofbeats, he stepped over and looked, shielding his eyes from the beating sun with both hands.

“Can I help you?” asked the woman on horseback from the other side of the fence. Early or Mid 20s, black, handsome. Blue jeans, Gillingham shirt, scuffed work boots, straw cowboy hat. Faint California accent. Rifle slung over back, old military surplus canteen dangling from the pommel of the saddle.

“Umm, yeah.” Said the man. No accent. East coast, maybe. “My rental has died on me. Do you have a phone?”

“No signal.” Said the woman, sliding off the horse and resting one foot on the barbed wire, before vaulting over, one hand on her shoulder to stop the rife swinging. “I keep a satellite phone in my truck, but that’s over the far side of the ranch. Here.” She said, tying the reigns to the fence. “I’ll take a look. What seems to be the problem?”

The man looked nervously from the rifle to the car for a moment. “Honestly? Dammed if I know. Darn thing just died on me. You out hunting?” He asked. The woman snorted.

“No, I don’t approve of hunting for sport, and I don’t eat meat anymore. I carry this for defence. Coyotes, more than people. I’ve got foals in the far paddock, and that attracts predators.”

“So you shoot them?” the man asked, sounding surprised. The woman shook her head.”

“I don’t plan to.” She said, moving to the car and resting the gun against the front bumper. The man moved out of the way and down the road a speck, giving her some room to work. “Usually I go for organic controls, this is just for last ditch emergencies.”

“Organic controls?” said the man, confused. He patted down his pockets, then pulled out a packet of cigarettes. He then took off his suit jacket, a remarkably human gesture in that heat. “What’s that?”

“Oh, coyotes and wolves are territorial. You get a large wolf to mark the edges of your land, and the rest of them generally stay away. Doesn’t work on bears, but bears are more likely to spook a horse foraging than actually hunt one. They need to be run-off, but they generally move when a large stallion charges them. We don’t get many grizzlies here, and the black bears wont normally bother a full grown horse.”

The man snorted. “You have a tame wolf, like, a pet? Just to piss on the fenceposts?” the women laughed. “No, that would be ridiculous. You can order pellets online. Wool soaked in wolf urine, wolf or tiger dung pellets, scares off the Coyotes or Cougars. Fresher is better, but thankfully I know someone at a zoo, they sort me out.” She said, looking over the engine.

“Ah? So this is your land then, I take it?” he said, moving to stand in the road, directly behind her, five paces back. Where she couldn't see.

“Yep. Nearly a thousand hectares, half horse ranch, half re-wilding program, down by the national forest. I’m partnered with fish and game. We’re reintroducing bevers next spiring, and I’m very exited about it.” She said, frowning. It honestly didn’t look like there was anything wrong with the car at all.

“Ah. Nice place. Said the man, putting an unlit cigarette to his lips. “A little hard to find.” He added, lighting up with a smile.

The woman paused. She, and there was no other word for this, twisted. Not like she was moving, but like something had suddenly gone very wrong with her spine, just for a second. Then it was over, and she calmly put one hand on the gun.

The man smiled. “Organic controls, so I see. You know, for a moment I thought I had the wrong person, but when faced with a clear threat, you reached for the gun second.”

“There are snipers.” She said, calmly. “You should know I’m being watched by the government, so if you try any crazy fanboy bullcrap-”

“Private first class Macerson and Lance-corporal Evens, USMC scout snipers, seconded out a military unit that doesn’t officially exist, yes, we knew you’d spotted them. You took the time to wait until they were replaced with the night shift, Cooper and Mackie, and then drove into town and went straight to the same bar they always hit up when they’re off duty. I presume you’d been trailing them for some time? Honestly, just confronting them would have spooked them enough, did you really need to pretend you didn’t know who they were and hook up with Evens? The poor boy is quite stricken with guilt, so I’m told. You didn’t have to twist the knife. They watch you, and we watch them. Something in Latin, ect ect. ” Said the man. He offered the cigarette to the woman, who was now standing there facing him, fists balled by her side, looking furious.

“You’re government.” She said. It was not a question.

“Yes.” Said the man smiling sweetly thought the smoke. Menthol, she noticed. “But not yours. Although I am here with their permission.” He took a long drag. “You know, I’m not joking when I said you were hard to find. Honestly? I thought the bird would have been the hardest to contact, but Fish and Game have an entire team dedicated to tracking his movements. I was as close to him as I am to you, if you’re wondering. He was about there” he said, pointing to the road “Pecking at roadkill. Not chatty. Marco now, Marco has a fucking press-agent and to be honest, you can mostly find him by heading to the right nightclubs and aiming for the mirrors, and poor, poor Jake, well… if you have the right security clearance, you can not only find him but make him call you ‘sir’. This spot, this spot now… properly of the radar. I had to pull a lot of strings at the state department to even find out about this place.”

“Good for you. Fuck off. I’m not interested.” She said moving to the fence and untying her horse. “I’m over it, and even if I wasn’t I don’t take kindly to strangers coming over and-”

“We’ve met before.” He said, calmly. “Back in the war.”

She hesitated “I- I don’t recall.”

The man laughed. “Well, I did look quite different then. Hork-Bajir host. You ripped my throat out. Worst thing was, I was already in the Yeerk Peace Movement at the time, just had the bad luck to draw guard duty right before the famed ‘Andalite bandits’ raided. Got off lucky, all things considered: Rachel was crushing heads that day. We need you, Cassie, the peace movement.”

“And? We’re at peace, more or less.”

“More.” The man said, sighing, “Or less. The empire is collapsing, Cassie. You’re out of the loop but I imagine you still follow the news. Balkanizing, infighting, the remnants re-militarizing, and there are some very nasty rumours starting to appear form the far edges of the empire about gods-knows what. Members of the peace movement like myself who spent years working our way up the government to key positions now find there’s hardly a government left anymore, and those of us who made allies in the Andalite and human governments, and those of us who keep in touch with the Notlith community have started to disappear, right here on earth. It… it’s falling apart.”

The young woman sighed. “It always does. What’s it to do with me.”

The man looked upset. “You founded the peace movement, we had hoped-”

“You’re not going to find peace by pulling me, specifically, into another war. What do you want? Spit it out.”

The man narrowed his eyes, took a deep pull on the menthol, glaring at her through smoke, and then continued.

“Some of the Yeerk Nothlit community here on earth have, ah, some regrets about choosing to Nothlit themselves. Their dissatisfaction makes them prime recruiting material for yeerk nationalists who want to re-build the empire, some of them are working with organized crime in Brazil… and there is a rumour that Andalite medics have found a method to cure Nothlit syndrome. Worse, the rumours are true: having looked over their findings from my contacts in the Andalite military, it looks like they are either there, or very close to it. You see the implication?”

She sighed. “Thousands of angry Yeerks who want to re-build the empire running amok in the amazon? Yes I can see the problem. Why is it my problem though? What do you want me to do? Go and make a PR appearance advocating the merits of staying a snake? Wiggle a dead rat around for them so it still looks alive?”

“No. Our initial plan was to just assassinate the Andalite scientists that were working on the cure, oh, don’t give us that look. The Andalite military refused to look the other way, so the best we could manage was to get them to evoke Seerow’s Kindness and not share the cure with us Yeerks.”

“I sense a but coming.”

“But, someone sneaked a copy of the research notes out, via the Skrit Na, and they made their way to earth. The Yeerk Peace movement and the governments of the Unites States and Brazil agreed that on the balance of probability this was a bad thing, and we sent a team into to recover or destroy the data.”

“I’m not doing it. Not getting involved. If some yeerks want to un-Nothlit themselves, that’s their choice.”

"Oh, no… we’ve already destroyed the data, we believe, the mission was a success. That’s not the problem.”

“So what is?”

“The team didn’t make it out. We need someone morph-capable to go into the amazon on a search and recue-”

“Fuck off.” she said, re-mounting the horse.

The man sighed. “I could have gone to Jake, I have the authority to just order him to do it. I could have tried to leverage Tobias, he has… personal stakes in this, but I think he’s too far gone for this. I could even just appeal to Marco’s ego, or request the Andalite military sends a war-prince and some special forces. This is time sensitive, so do you know why I’m wasting time with you?”

“I’m sure you’ll tell me.” She said.

“Jake, the Andalites, the US government, all told me the same thing: it’s not worth it. The probability of getting them out alive is too low. We’d lose more people trying to pull them out than we’d save, plus the collateral casualties… They all looked at the maths, and decided it wasn’t viable. I need someone who doesn’t look at the maths. Someone who cares about the lost lives… someone who will feel bad if this goes wrong, and hold back as a result. We have a Chee contact in place to run intel and support the op, we have a backup team, but what we don’t have is anyone I’d trust to do it right. Someone is killing our people, ma’am. The Nothlit yeerks that refuse to join the New Empire, and no doubt killing a lot of innocent anacondas in the process. They’re dying. And I need some who is sane, functional, and cares if that stops or not. You’ll be compensated for your time: 2 million, donated to the wildlife charities of your choice, we already know your usual ones-”

“No.” said the woman, wrestling the horse around to leave.

The man pulled out a Dracon beam. The woman cussed and reached for her rifle.

He turned, and quite calmly used the weapon to burn a number onto the nearest fencepost.

“Modulated beam, the latest tech.” he said. “My phone number. I’d try my business card, but I imagine you’d rip it up dramatically. Call anytime.” He said, dropping the hood and climbing into the car. It started first time.

“Why in the hell would I call you?” she yelled.

“Because tonight, when you’re done running around on all fours marking fence-posts or seducing your minders or whatever you do on a weeknight, you’ll wonder just how many people will die if you don’t.” The man said, calmy, driving away. *****

Cassie lay in bed looking at the ceiling for a long time.

“Fuck.” She said, after some time.

There was a noise. Coyotes. You couldn’t blame them, for being killers. It was just what they did.

They didn’t choose to kill others.

She sighed, walked to the window of the ranch-house, and focused for a second, morphing her vocal cords. It took barely ten seconds.

She slid the screen off her open window, stuck her head out, and howled. The Coyotes got the message, and left.

There. She didn’t have to shoot them, sometimes you could just scare them off, so long as they knew who the top-dog in this neighbourhood was.

Sometime the threat of force worked better than force itself. Sometimes you needed a nuanced touch to your violence, if you wanted to spare lives.

She sighed, and ran her fingers through her short buzzed hair.

“Shit.” She said, eventually.

Cussing the whole way, she stomped downstairs to the house phone. She did not own a cell phone. No point. This was one of the last spots in the lower 48 with no cell signal of any kind. Every time they tried to build a tower here, an increasingly ludicrous succession of rare birds would be seen trying to nest on the exact spot they had picked. Never a pair, but always a single highly endagered bird trying it’s damnedest to build a nest. Eventually the government had got the fucking hint and intervened with AT&T on her behalf.

Hating herself, she picked up the phone.

He answered on the second ring.

“How many lives?” was all she asked.

“At least eighteen, more if it goes badly. Three morph-capable humans and one morph-capable Hork-Bajir, four yeerks, ten regular humans who just got caught up in this mess. They’ve been gone 24 hours, so we’re looking at Kandrona starvation soon, if they’re not executed first.

“I… morph capable controllers?!” she said, surprised.

He laughed. “Not every Yeerk on earth took your offer to become a Nothlit, Cassie. The US government captured some portable Kandrona’s during the war. You’re smart, and attuned to social issues: if the US military wanted morphing special forces, did you not think the CIA would want the ability to finally puppet someone after years of Manchurian candidate MK Ultra bullshit? Sadly, some Yeerks just switched one empire for another. Plus, Jake’s toy-soldiers only have so many hours of training per day: if they spend all their time running around with guns and practicing morphing, that’s no time to learn languages or technical data. Four Operatives, each with a Yeerk co-pilot to round-out their skillset. All volunteers from the yeerk peace movement: went in to try and stop the killing of Nothlits and the un-Nothlit-ing the radicals. Captured. Human organized criminals aiding the Yeerk Ultra-nationalists. Voluntary controllers, Narco’s with Dracons and an axe to grind, and a bunch of very pissed-off snakes. Absolutely the worst-case scenario.”

“Fuck. Location?”

“Brazilian-Venezuelan boarder. We have a bug fighter on standby. We can get you to the approximate location to meet your team in…. seventeen minuets.”

She digested this information, drumming her fingers on the phone.

“Is this a trap?” she asked, finally.

“Certainly. But not one I’ve laid, or it would be better fucking organised. They are suspecting we’ll send someone in, they are not suspecting you, or a Chee. That gives us some hope.”

“Okay, and one more thing before I decide: You said you thought you could get Tobais involved, but he was too far gone. Personal stakes, you said. What did you mean by that?"

Pause. Crackling phone static.

“The Morph capable Hork-Bajir is Rak Hamee, Jara and Ket’s son. Younger brother of US congresswoman Toby Hamee, and they are being held hostage by Yeerk nationalists to try and leverage us into giving them the Nothlit cure.”

“Fuck.” Said Cassie. “Land the Bug in the south paddock. I don’t want you spooking the horses.”

#Poll #fanfiction #experiment #twist #writing #suspence writing

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soulofapatrick · 1 year ago

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They Find Out You're Pregnant: Teen Wolf Boys part one

Summary: How each boy finds out you're pregnant

Words: 4K altogether

warnings: unplanned pregnancy but mostly fluff

As I step into the bedroom, I sense the tension thick in the air, swirling around Stiles like a storm cloud. He’s curled up on the bed, facing away from me, and I can tell he’s not asleep despite the lack of his usual cute little snores. His shoulders rise and fall with a rhythm that betrays a restlessness I’ve come to recognise all too well.

“Sti, baby?” I press, desperation creeping into my voice. I need him to look at me, to see past whatever wall he’s built between us. Cold eyes and a scowl meet my gaze when he finally turns to face me, and it feels like knives piercing my heart.

“Stiles, what did I do?” I press on, desperate for him to look at me, to see those beautiful brown eyes and his cute little nose and his quirky little smile that has me feeling giddy. Instead, I’m met with cold eyes and a scowl as he burrows further into the bed as if he wants to disappear and it breaks my heart.

“You know what you’ve done, asshole!” His words sting, buried back in the pillow, yet his pain is palpable. It’s then that I realise — he’s found the test. The pregnancy test I took last night, discarded in the bin, not thinking Stiles would see it until I was ready. Dread settles in my stomach as I know what he must think as we haven’t done anything for a few weeks as the full moon happened and now boom, pregnant test.

“Sti, listen to me.” With resolve, I move closer, needing him to understand. He tries to evade me, but I’m quicker, using my werecoyote strength to turn him onto his back. We wrestle for a few moment, not wanting to make Stiles feel utterly powerless, until the fight in him leaves and I’m straddling his waist, holding his arms down gently but firmly.

“Mieczyslaw Noah Stilinski,” I use his full name, a last resort to get through to him, and his resistance finally melts away. His tear-filled eyes meet mine, vulnerability shining through the facade of anger.

“Stiles, baby… Stiles, I’m a coyote,” I start, trying to explain the complexities he may not fully grasp or have thought of. He nods, his expression pained, as if bracing for the worst, “We have heats and ruts. Stiles, that test was mine.” The weight of my words hangs heavy in the air between us. His blush telling me he’s embarrassed, but he’s trying to understand.

“You’re pregnant?” His voice is quiet, laced with a mixture of hope and disbelief. I just nod, feeling a rush of relief that the truth is finally out.

“Yes Stiles. I’m pregnant with our child.” I say it plainly letting the enormity of the revelation sink in. His reaction is immediate— he sits up abruptly, catching me off guard with a headbutt that he seems oblivious to in his rush to kiss me.

The kiss is desperate, passionate, a floodgate of emotions breaking open. Stiles’s hands find their way to my waist, pulling me closer as if he's afraid I might disappear. My hands cup his face, fingers trembling slightly with a mix of relief and apprehension. His lips move against mine with a hunger that matches my own, seeking reassurance and connection in the midst of uncertainty. Every touch, every caress speaks volumes—of love, of fear, of hope.

When we finally pull apart, breathless and flushed, our foreheads lean against each other, eyes closed as we try to catch our breath. My fingers thread through his hair, tangling in the messy strands that I’ve come to adore. Stiles’s hands linger on my waist, his touch grounding me in the reality of our shared moment.

The intimacy is interrupted by the sudden creak of the bedroom door opening, a stark reminder of the world outside our bubble of emotions. We break apart reluctantly, turning to see Noah Stilinski standing there, his expression a mix of surprise and concern. His gaze flickers between us, understanding dawning slowly as he takes in the scene before him.

"I... I need to go sit down to wrap my head around this," he says softly, his voice thick with unspoken questions and paternal worry. With a brief nod to us both, he retreats downstairs, leaving Stiles and me staring at each other in a mixture of disbelief and joy.

"Fuck!" Stiles breathes out, a nervous laugh escaping him as he runs a hand through his hair, still trying to process everything. I can’t help but chuckle softly, the tension easing as we share a moment of raw, unfiltered emotion.

Our hands find each other naturally, fingers intertwining as we sit. The weight of what lies ahead hangs heavy in the air, but so does the undeniable bond between us. Stiles turns to me, his eyes searching mine for reassurance, for confirmation that we're in this together.

"Are you okay?" he finally asks, his voice soft yet filled with a myriad of emotions—love, concern, excitement, and a touch of fear.

I squeeze his hand gently, offering him a reassuring smile. "I'm okay. We're okay," I assure him, knowing that while the road ahead won't be easy, we have each other to lean on.

Stiles leans in, pressing a tender kiss to my forehead, a silent promise of his commitment and love. "I love you," he murmurs against my skin, his words a soothing balm to the uncertainties swirling around us.

"I love you too," I reply softly, feeling a surge of warmth and gratitude for the man beside me, the father of our unborn child.

I sit nervously on the edge of Scott's bed, my legs bouncing with restless energy as I clutch onto the small gift box in my lap. Each breath feels strained, the anticipation of his arrival causing my heart to pound relentlessly against my ribs. The room is cloaked in a hushed stillness, broken only by the soft murmur of the night seeping through the open window, casting shadows across the room.

The door creaks open, and Scott steps into the room, his brow furrowing in concern as he takes in my anxious posture. “Baby? What's going on?" His voice is gentle, a beacon of calm in the midst of my swirling emotions as he crosses the room to stand before me.

I inhale deeply, trying to steady my trembling hands as I extend the gift box towards him. "Scott, I... I got you something," I manage to say, my voice wavering with nerves that betray the weight of what lies within.

He accepts the box with a curious tilt of his head, settling beside me on the bed. His fingers trace the edges of the wrapping paper, his expression shifting from curiosity to confusion as he uncovers the smaller box nestled within.

Opening it, his breath catches in his throat as he sees the pregnancy test lying inside. The reality of the situation crashes over us like a tidal wave, and I watch his eyes widen with shock and disbelief.

"Scott, I... I got you something," I manage to say, my voice betraying the turmoil within. He accepts the box with a curious expression, eyebrows quirking as I always call him Scotty not Scott, his fingers careful as he begins to unwrap it.

As he peels back the layers of wrapping paper, confusion clouds his features, replaced by disbelief when he reveals the smaller box inside. His breath catches in his throat as he opens it, revealing the pregnancy test nestled within. The implications hit him like a tidal wave, and I watch as shock ripples through him, his eyes widening with a mix of emotions.

The initial shock gives way to concern, his brows furrowing as he processes the reality before him. A flicker of fear crosses his face, accompanied by a tentative hope that he struggles to grasp amidst the overwhelming news. His gaze shifts from the test to me and back again, searching for words that seem to elude him in the moment.

"Scott," I begin softly, tears welling in my eyes as I reach out to touch his hand, seeking connection in the midst of our shared uncertainty. "I'm pregnant."

The words hang heavy in the air, a palpable silence settling between us as he absorbs the weight of my revelation. His hand tightens around mine, a gesture of both support and seeking solace in the face of the unknown.

"Are you... sure?" he finally manages to ask, his voice a whisper laced with disbelief. He meets my gaze, his eyes filled with a mixture of awe and apprehension, struggling to comprehend the enormity of what lies ahead for us.

I nod slowly, my own voice trembling as I reaffirm, "Yes, Scott. It's yours."

He pulls me into his arms, holding me close as if to anchor himself amidst the whirlwind of emotions crashing over us. His touch is gentle yet firm, a testament to his resolve to face this unexpected turn in our lives together.

"I... I don't know what to say," he admits quietly against my hair, his breath warm against my skin. "But we'll figure this out. Together."

I close my eyes, tears streaming down my cheeks as I cling to him, overwhelmed by a rush of relief and gratitude for his steadfast presence. In that intimate moment, sitting on his bed with the pregnancy test between us, I find solace in the certainty that no matter the challenges ahead, having Scott by my side fills me with a deep sense of hope and determination.

“I love you so much.”

I stand by the window in Derek's loft, the city lights twinkling in the distance, but my mind is consumed by a different kind of sparkle—a mixture of hope and fear that knots my stomach. The thought had been creeping in lately, a hunch I couldn't shake off, but anxiety held me back from taking the test. What if it wasn't the right time? What if Derek wasn't ready?

Derek enters the room, his presence a comforting solidity in the midst of my swirling thoughts. His sharp gaze locks onto me, sensing my unease despite my attempt at composure.

"Hey," he says softly, his voice a soothing balm that momentarily eases my nerves.

I turn to face him, trying to hide the turmoil beneath a forced smile. "Hi," I reply, my voice catching slightly.

He takes a step closer, concern etched into the lines of his brow. "Are you okay?" he asks, his tone gentle yet probing.

I hesitate, unsure how to voice the uncertainty gnawing at me. "I... I've been feeling off lately," I finally admit, my gaze flickering away from his intense scrutiny.

His expression softens, understanding dawning in his eyes as he pieces together my unspoken words. "You think..." he begins, his voice trailing off as he seems to catch on to the implications.

I nod slowly, unable to meet his gaze as tears well up in my eyes. "I think I might be pregnant," I confess in a hushed tone, the weight of the admission hanging heavy in the air.

Derek's breath catches, his shoulders stiffening imperceptibly before he takes a deep breath, closing the distance between us in a few long strides. He pulls me into his arms, holding me close as if to shield me from the uncertainties swirling around us.

"I had a feeling," he admits quietly against my hair, his voice a mixture of awe and tenderness. "But I didn't want to push you.”

Relief floods through me at his understanding, his acceptance offering a lifeline in the sea of doubt. "I've been scared," I confess, burying my face against his chest as tears spill over. "Scared of how you'd react.”

Derek's arms tighten around me, his embrace offering reassurance and warmth. "I'm here," he murmurs, his voice a promise. "Whatever happens, we'll face it together.”

In that vulnerable moment, surrounded by Derek's comforting presence, I feel a surge of courage. Slowly, I pull back, meeting his gaze with a tentative smile. "I think I should take the test," I say softly, my voice wavering with a mix of hope and apprehension.

He nods, his expression unwavering as he brushes a stray tear from my cheek. "Let's find out," he agrees, his voice steady. Moments later, we stand in the bathroom, the air thick with anticipation. I take the test, heart hammering in my chest as I wait for the result. When the faint positive line appears, tears of joy and relief spill down my cheeks.

I emerge from the bathroom, the test in trembling hands, and Derek's eyes lock onto mine. Without a word, he crosses the room in quick strides, falling to his knees before me. His hands gently push my shirt up, his lips pressing tender kisses against my barely-there bump.

Emotion swells within me—tension and uncertainty giving way to a rush of overwhelming love and tenderness. Derek's actions speak volumes, his touch a promise of unwavering support and boundless affection.

"I love you," he murmurs against my stomach, his voice reverent and filled with awe.

Tears blur my vision as I run my fingers through his hair, overwhelmed by the depth of his emotions. "I love you too," I whisper, feeling the weight of our shared journey settling into a tender certainty.

In that intimate moment, surrounded by love and hope, I know that no matter what lies ahead, Derek and I will face it together, our bond strengthened by the miracle growing within me.

I stand in the hallway of Liam's house, clutching the pregnancy test tightly in my hand. The hallway feels strangely quiet, the air heavy with anticipation and nerves. Liam had just returned from a late-night patrol with Scott, and I knew I had to tell him, but the fear of his reaction kept me rooted in place.

The front door creaks open, and Liam steps inside, his exhaustion evident in the lines of his face and the weariness in his movements. His eyes meet mine, concern flickering across his features as he senses my tension.

"Hey, what's going on?" he asks softly, his voice filled with genuine worry as he approaches me.

I take a deep breath, my heart pounding in my chest as I hold out the pregnancy test towards him. "Liam, we need to talk," I manage to say, my voice trembling with nerves.

He takes the test from me, confusion clouding his expression as he examines it. Recognition dawns slowly, his eyes widening with shock as he realises what it means. The test falls from his hands, forgotten, as he turns to face me, his mouth opening and closing wordlessly.

"Are... are you serious?" he finally manages to ask, his voice cracking with emotion. His hands tremble slightly as he reaches out to touch my arm, seeking confirmation amidst the whirlwind of thoughts racing through his mind.

I nod slowly, tears welling up in my eyes as I meet his gaze with a mix of fear and hope. "Yes, Liam. I'm pregnant," I admit softly, the weight of the truth hanging heavy in the space between us.

His breath hitches, his eyes never leaving mine as he struggles to process the enormity of the news. "But how...?" he begins, his voice trailing off as he searches for the right words.

“Well, when a man and woman love each other a lot-“ I start to say and he rolls his eyes playfully, punching me in the arm lightly so I continue, joking aside, ”I... I didn't know for sure until now," I explain, tears suddenly welling up in my eyes as I try to convey the intensity of my emotions. "But I had a feeling, and I finally took the test."

Liam wraps his arms around me suddenly, pulling me close as if he's afraid I might slip away. "I... I don't know what to say," he admits against my hair, his voice thick with a mix of disbelief and overwhelming love.

Tears of relief mingle with the uncertainty that still lingers between us, but in that moment, held in Liam's embrace, I know that we'll face whatever comes next together. Our journey into parenthood may be unexpected and filled with challenges, but knowing Liam is by my side fills me with a profound sense of strength and hope for our future.

As we stand there in the hallway, wrapped in each other's arms, I feel a wave of gratitude for the love we share and the new life growing within me—a testament to our bond and the possibilities that lie ahead.

The first rays of dawn peek through the curtains, casting a gentle glow over Isaac's bedroom. I wake slowly, cocooned in warmth and the comforting weight of Isaac's arm draped protectively over me. His steady heartbeat beneath my ear lulls me into a serene half-awake state, where for a fleeting moment, everything feels perfect.

"Morning," Isaac murmurs sleepily, his voice husky with sleep as he brushes his nose across my shoulder before pressing a kiss there, loosening his grip on me so I can roll over and face the surly haired werewolf, feeling at peace and oh so in love.

I smile softly, relishing the tranquility of the moment before reality nudges its way into my consciousness. But, of course, as if on cue, a subtle queasiness stirs in my stomach, a sensation I’ve been experiencing the last few days. Panic flares briefly, but I try to dismiss it, not wanting to disturb the peace between us.

Isaac senses my restlessness, his gaze searching mine with concern. "You okay sweetheart?" he asks gently, his thumb brushing lightly over my cheek.

I nod slightly, swallowing down the rising unease. "Just... feeling a bit off," I admit reluctantly, not wanting to worry him unnecessarily.

But before I can say more, a sudden wave of nausea grips me, and I bolt out of bed with startling urgency, breaking free from Isaac's embrace. "I... I'll be right back," I manage to choke out, mouth watering warningly, my voice strained as I hurriedly make my way to the ensuite bathroom.

Isaac's confusion turns to alarm as he watches me go, the sound of my retching echoing through the closed door. He's by my side in an instant, his concern overriding any sense of personal space as he pushes open the door to find me leaning heavily over the toilet.

"What's wrong?" he asks urgently, his hands hovering anxiously over me as he assesses the situation.

I lean over the toilet, gasping for breath as I struggle to regain my composure. "I don’t know, ive been sic every morning for the last week. I can’t stand certain food anymore… I just want ice cream” I’m suddenly crying, my voice barely audible over the rush of emotions.

Isaac's eyes widen in shock, his hand coming to rest gently on my back as he kneels beside me. “Baby, are you… are we pregnant?” he repeats incredulously, the reality of my words sinking in slowly.

Those tears just stream down my cheeks harder, unable to process what Isaac is saying but somewhere deep in my gut knowing he’s right. "I've been feeling off for a while," I explain haltingly, the weight of the confession hanging heavy in the air. “But I thought it was a bug. Didn’t want to worry you.”

He pulls me into his arms, holding me close as if to shield me from the uncertainty that now defines our future. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?" he murmurs against my hair, his voice thick with a mixture of awe and concern.

"I didn't want to worry you," I repeat softly, my heart aching with the fear of his reaction and the overwhelming rush of emotions coursing through me.

Isaac's embrace tightens around me, his touch a reassuring anchor amidst the whirlwind of uncertainty. "We'll figure this out," he reassures me, his voice steady and filled with determination, “I want to start a family with you.”

“You do?”

“I am in love with you. Only you.”

“I’m in love with you too.”

I lie in bed, tossing and turning, my stomach churning with waves of nausea, sweating and just feeling generally shit. The clock ticks relentlessly, each passing minute feeling like an eternity as I wait for Jordan to return from work. I've been feeling off for days now, a probable stomach bug or stress from all the shit that has been happening in Beacon Hills recently.

The front door finally creaks open, and I hear Jordan's familiar footsteps padding down the hallway. Relief washes over me as he enters the bedroom, his presence a comforting presence in the dimly lit room. He quickly strips down to his boxers before he slips under the covers beside me, his warmth immediately soothing.

His arm wraps around my waist, pulling me back against his chest, relief washing through me as if he can heal me with just his touch. In my drowsy state, I lean into his touch, seeking solace in his embrace. His hand rests flat against my stomach, and I wince slightly at the sensation but some of the nausea fades and a soft sigh of relief escapes me.

"Jordan," I murmur, my voice thick with sleep and discomfort.

He shifts slightly, making me roll onto my back to face him. His bright eyes search mine, concern etched in his furrowed brow. "When were you going to tell me?" he asks softly, his voice tinged with a hint of worry. His hand cupping my jaw, thumb brushing lovingly over my fever flushed cheek.

Confusion knots my brow as I try to make sense of his question. "Tell you what?" I manage to ask, my voice laced with exhaustion and confusion.

His gaze lingers on me, his expression softening as realisation slowly dawns in his eyes. “Sunshine…” his breath comes out in a soft gasp, “Sunshine, you’re pregnant," he states quietly, his voice filled with a mix of awe and certainty.

My breath catches in my throat, my heart skipping a beat at his words. "What?" I whisper, stunned by the revelation.

Jordan's hand slides from my cheek down to my stomach, his touch gentle yet purposeful. "I can sense it," he explains quietly, his fingers tracing a soothing pattern against my skin. “I… I don’t know how but I can sense it… I can feel the change in you."

Tears well up in my eyes, a rush of emotions overwhelming me—surprise, disbelief, and a flicker of hope. "I... I didn't know," I admit softly, my voice trembling with the weight of his words, “I thought it was the flu.”

He leans closer, his forehead resting against mine. "It's okay," he murmurs, his breath warm against my lips. “I love you baby, we’re gonna have a baby.”

He’s shuffling around until he’s laying on his back, my head resting on his chest as he knows how soothing his heartbeat can be, especially when I can’t sleep and before I know it I’m drifting off to sleep with one thought on my mind.

“You’re gonna be the best dad ever.”

Teen Wolf Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 21st Dec 2023

@alexxavicry @guacam011y @fandom-princess-forevermore @bellatrixxmarierose

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persuasivetfs · 8 months ago

Text

A Favor

Muhammad Al-Khatib saw himself as a pretty good guy all around. Easygoing, generous, always willing to help a friend out.

So when his childhood best-friend Rajesh asked if Muhammad could take 4 days off from work to help him with a work emergency, Muhammad didn’t hesitate. Though when Muhamaad got to his friend’s apartment he was less sure he could provide Rajesh needed.

For sprawled out unconscious and half-naked on Rajesh’s bed was The Ali Gomaa, an internationally ranked Egyptian body-builder, and Rajesh’s boss. For half a second Muhammad became worried that his best-friend had accidentally killed the man, before the massive man released a loud snort in his sleep.

“Alright so I fucked up bad, I fucked up real bad, man. Bad enough to cost me my job,” Rajesh began, pacing at the foot of his bed. Mr. Gomaa meanwhile seemed to be sleeping peacefully, a grin plastered to his face.

“I was supposed to put the order in for 300 units of the new Wolf Muscle Powder my boss is promoting at the Santa Fe Bodybuilding convention tomorrow and I only ordered 30.”

“So?” Muhammad asked, easing into a comfortable spot in a chair by the door.

“So? So, I’m fucked. My boss was insistent that this new muscle wolf powder was going to relaunch his career. How the fuck is he supposed to do that when I only ordered 30 of the fucking units to sell?” Rajesh panicked.

“Well mistakes happen. I mean is he really going to fire you over a little mistake like this,” Muhammad asked, absentmindedly twirling his friend’s baseball cap in his hand.

“Yes, yes he would, because Mr. Gomaa is a perfectionist and I’ve already fucked up twice this month on this order alone. He’s already warned me once that if I kept making these kinds of mistakes that he’d find someone to replace me. I can’t lose this job, man, I just can’t,” Rajesh reasoned. Muhammad frowned.

“If he’s that much of a pain in the ass to work for, why do you even want to be his personal assistant? Not like you need the money or the bodybuilding experience,” Muhammad answered with a shrug.

Rajesh was a popular athletic model and professional bodybuilder in his own right, having won two local championship trophies in the last year alone. It made more sense when Rajesh was just starting out after high school, when he still needed all the help he could get, but that was years ago. How long was he planning on staying attached to this man by the hip?

“This job was never about the money. Ali Gomaa is a legend in professional bodybuilding. I still have so much to learn, and it's only under Mr. Gomaa that I’ve advanced so much in such a short period of time,” Rajesh said, gazing with what Mohamaad imagined as pure admiration at the perfectly sculpted body of Mr. Gomaa. He then briefly smiled at the thought of Rajesh under the man’s older and heavier body.

Muhammad was careful to keep such thoughts to himself. Rajesh was straight and the last time he cracked a joke about the two men together, his face had gone scarlet and they hadn’t talked again for a month. He’d do anything to prevent a fight like that again.

“Then what do you need me to help with? Ordering a new shipment for this Muscle Coyote Powder?” Muhammad asked, giving the cap another spin on his thumb.

“No, I already handled that. No, what I need from you is more hands on,” Rajesh explained.

He took out a silvery blue pill from his pocket.

“What am I even looking at?”

“The future of professional body-building, my friend. That and possibly the future of athletics in general,” Rajesh said with a sense of wonder bordering on pride.

“This is Splindifferin,” Rajesh introduced with the air of a professor giving a lecture, “A marvel of medical science that allows one person to enter the body of another and control it from the inside.

For after a person has taken Splindifferin their body and mind enter a mutable state, where both become fluid. This then allows another person, presumably a coach or fellow teammate to enter the host’s body where the two become one. Once inside, the second person is given complete control over the original inhabitant’s form allowing them to overcome any mental or emotional challenges that may inhibit the host’s functioning. Then after a period of several days, the intruder is ejected from the host body and the patient returns to normal functioning. Watch,” Rajesh then poked Mr. Gomaa’s knee, creating a ripple effect of moving skin that moved from the tips of his toes to the top of his head.

”That’s incredible. But do you really think I can pass as your boss for four days? I don’t know anything about him or bodybuilding,” Muhammad pointed out, scratching at his round stomach.

“That’s where the process of ‘doubling’ comes in. For the longer you remain within Ali Gomaa‘s body the more of his memories, mannerisms, and knowledge will flow into you. By the end of four days, not even his wife or adult sons would be able to tell the difference,” Rajesh explained with a grin, patting Mohammad warmly on the shoulder.

“Besides, I’ll be with you every step of the way coaching you through this. That is if you agree to help me out.” Rajesh then flashed Mohammad a look of his soft, pleading brown eyes, making him melt like butter into his chair.

“Alright, alright. If you say we can do this, then I trust you. I’ll help you out,” Mohammad agreed.

“You’re amazing! Thanks so much, man. You have no idea how much this means to me! Okay, now get undressed. We can’t do this unless you’re both nude,” Rajesh said, shifting his tone of voice from appreciative to authoritative so quick it made Mohammad’s head spin.

He got up from his seat and began to disrobe. Rajesh instead of leaving as Mohammad expected, took his place in his chair.

“You sure you want to stay here and watch?” Muhmmad asked, taking off his shirt. He remembered how squeamish his friend had been with his undressing near him after their fight.

“Bro, I need to stay here and make sure you enter Mr. Gomaa’s body the right way. So just take your dick out and let’s hurry this up,” Rajesh said, crossing his arms and leaning back into his chair.

“So why did Mr.Gomaa need a drug like Splindifferin to compete anyway? Hasn’t he been a professional body-builder for like 20 years?” Mohammad asked as he took off his shirt.

“Ever since 2017, as great as the man is, Ali Gomaa has suffered from acute stage fright. The result of mild heat stroke and anxiety that struck him while competing in the Summer Cairo heat. So to compete, he has been relying on others to literally take over for him.”

“Has Me.Gomaa ever let you enter his body before?” Mohammad asked, kicking off his jeans.

“A few times, but never for more than a day, and the whole time I was under constant watch by other members of his support team. Guess they were fearful of me trying to run off in his body or commit some felonies. This time however, we’re doing this before we arrive in Santa Fe, so we don’t have to worry about them knowing it's you in there,” Rajesh explained.

Once fully naked, Muhammad walked to the side of the bed. Mr. Gomaa was fully naked except for a dark blue jockstrap.

Now, Muhammad always knew he was on the heavier side of things and the hairer side but he’d never really been insecure about it. Plenty of gay guys loved bears. Still, next to this muscular behemoth Muhammad felt tiny and petite.

Unsteady, and with trembling knees, he got on the bed and attempted to ease himself into Mr. Gomaa. Once his ass cheeks hit the man’s waist, the bodybuilder’s eyes opened wide, nearly scaring him back off the bed, when Rajesh stood from his seat and eased him back.

“Easy man! He’s still asleep. That just happens sometimes,” Rajesh explained, his hands comforting and firm.

With another breath, Muhammad leaned back and laid himself fully into the bodybuilder’s body as Rajesh looked him over.

It was like the body of Mr.Gomaa had turned into a thick, heavy wad of gelatin, and the more Muhammad pushed in, the more the man’s flesh sucked him in further and further.

Wet muscle and skin enveloped him, flooding Muhammad’s skin with a thousand pinpricks of pins and needles. Then as his head merged with the bodybuilder’s his vision went dark and for a brief second it was hard to breathe.

Muhammad awoke with a start, sitting up in bed and gasping for air, his eyes going from one side of the room to the other.

“Easy, friend, easy. Deep breathes,” Rajesh soothed, holding onto his chest.

Muhammad looked down. His chest was Mr. Gomaa’s chest, big and powerful, radiating heat like a furnace. Shocked and not quite believing what was happening, Mohammad tried to stand up and run to the bedroom mirror but nearly fell, his heavy legs stumbling underneath him.

Rajesh went to hold him back, but Muhammad found he could push away his friend easily. He staggered to the mirror.

It was in the body of The Ali Gomaa standing there before him. Thick neck, bulging triceps, biceps so big they’d literally won awards! He flexed an arm and the reflection did the same.

Already Muhammad was a little drunk on power. He wanted to push this body to its limits.

To lift every weight and crush every goal just to prove he could. His hands were shaking but not with fright but excitement.

Rajesh came around the corner, wrapping a still muscular but not as thick arm around Muhammad’s shoulders.

“You ready to compete bro?”

#jockification #male transformation #gay transformation #body merge

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salmonsalad69 · 3 months ago

Text

Specifically TG / TGM incorrect quotes from music school

Viper: "Yeah, good job. The elephant really tip toed across the pond there."

Mav: "... fucking- WHAT?"

Slider: "What is bro on about?"

Wolf: "Are we the elephant or the pond in this metaphor?"

Ice: "Cool. Bye."

Slider: "... You know Ice thinks you're cool, right?"

Mav: "He does?! Oh my god, I'm so happy! I mean, I don't care. Whatever."

Wolf: "..... are you listening to the fucking traveler potions video?"

Wood: "Yes! Wanna watch?"

Wolf: "Always! It's my favorite video!"

Hangman: "Ok. Our team is called... Gambling addiction."

Coyote: "Yeah it is! Wooooo!"

Phoenix: "You're losing by 76 points."

Rooster: "a guy can't nap anymore?"

Bob: "You've been asleep for 7 hours."

Mav: "I wasn't that drunk."

Ice: "You tried to cuddle with everyone and then spent 30 minutes looking for your phone that was on the table."

Mav: "Well I remember you cuddling back, so. Watch it."

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drizzledrawings · 4 months ago

Note

What’s the connection/significance of each animal you chose for each person?

EEEE yes I'd love to rant about his

Flora: The jackalope often represents trickery and being a lighthearted prankster. I chose the jackalope for her (a mythical animal) because to Mattie and others in her life, she is too good to be true

Mattie: The fox, in contrast to Flora, represents trickery and thievery. She is the more nasty counterpart to Floras con. She is desperate and acts on impulse. Doing what she can to get her next "meal"

Ben: The cougar is strong but silent. You don't know you're being stalked by one until it decides to let you know.

Henry: The wolf is a strong animal. Often seen as a lonely animal, but not in Henry's case. He, like a wolf, values family above anything else.

Teddy: I chose the bear for Teddy to represent his strength. He is young but resilient. Oftentimes, in literature, bears act as a moral figure, and in this story, Teddy is the first one to realize that Ben is suspicious

Hazel: (This is my interpretation as I am an uncle to her @irishiiw ) She is a coyote, and coyotes are often unwanted. Seen as pests. But she is also able to see the best in people, like how coyotes can make due to live with what they can find

#cowbians

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nino-rox · 8 months ago

Text

Stiles x Male Reader | Fluff

Requested by Anonymous User - Not Proof Read

Teen Wolf AU - First time cuddling

Cookies & Cuddles

It had only been a week and a half since you and Stiles had started dating, but it felt both brand new and incredibly familiar, like you’d been circling each other for much longer. The thrill of finally being together was still fresh, but there was also that comfortable ease that came from years of friendship. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself as you pulled a tray of cookies from the oven, the smell of chocolate chip filling the kitchen.

You’d baked them as a surprise for Stiles, knowing how much he loved them. His sweet tooth was no secret, especially when he’d confessed it during one of those late-night conversations when it was just the two of you, sitting on the steps of your house. Stiles had been rambling about some bizarre case with Scott, and then out of nowhere, he'd gone off on a tangent about cookies. You’d laughed at the time, but tonight, you thought it’d be a nice gesture.

He arrived just as you were setting them down to cool, his Jeep rumbling to a stop outside. You could hear the faint sound of him locking it before his footsteps made their way to your front door. You opened it before he could knock, a habit you’d developed. Stiles stood there, his usual awkward smile on his face, hair even messier than normal—probably from some other crazy supernatural situation he hadn’t even told you about yet.

"Hey," he said, eyes lighting up the moment they caught sight of you. His shoulders visibly relaxed, and you could tell that being with you, even after a chaotic day, was becoming his safe haven.

"Hey yourself," you smiled back, stepping aside so he could come in. As soon as he entered, his eyes immediately darted to the kitchen, catching the scent of freshly baked cookies.

"Are those...?" His expression was priceless—wide-eyed, like he’d just stumbled upon a treasure.

You chuckled, "Yep. Thought you’d like a little treat after today."

"Okay, you’re officially the best boyfriend ever," Stiles declared, making a beeline for the kitchen like he hadn’t eaten in days. "No, seriously. You didn’t have to—wait, yes you did, because these smell *amazing*."

You followed him, laughing at his enthusiasm as he leaned over the tray, inhaling deeply. “I figured you needed something nice after whatever supernatural craziness happened today.”

He turned to you, still grinning. “Do you know me or what? But yeah, it was… intense. Scott almost got his head ripped off, Malia turned into full-on were-coyote mode, and Lydia’s banshee scream? Nearly deafened me again. But all in a day’s work, right?” He smirked, but you could see the exhaustion behind his eyes.

“You’re always saving the world,” you teased lightly, stepping closer to him. “But now you can relax for a bit.”

Stiles’ grin softened as he met your gaze. “I like that idea.” He reached out, fingers brushing yours before taking your hand in his. “You’re like my calm in the storm, you know that?”

Your heart swelled at his words, and for a second, the world outside really did feel distant. It was just the two of you, wrapped in the quiet comfort of your kitchen, the faint smell of rain still lingering outside.

“C’mon,” you said, tugging him toward the couch. “Cookies can wait until they cool.”

Stiles followed, still holding your hand, and as you sat down, the weight of the day seemed to fall away from him. You both settled in, his arm resting over your shoulders, pulling you closer. His body was warm against yours, the faint scent of his cologne—something woodsy and familiar—mingling with the ever-present hint of mint from his gum. It was a comfort, something uniquely Stiles.

You were quiet for a moment, and then Stiles broke it, his voice softer now. “You know, it’s weird. We’ve been dating for what, like a week and a half? But I feel like...”

“Like it’s been longer?” you finished for him.

“Exactly.” He squeezed your hand. “I guess that’s the benefit of knowing each other so well, huh?”

“Yeah, makes things a lot easier,” you said, smiling. “But it’s still new, and I kinda like that. Figuring all this out.”

He leaned his head against your shoulder, and for a moment, everything was perfect. His heart beat steady, his breathing calm—until, in true Stiles fashion, he couldn’t resist. “So, uh… how does this work?” he asked, gesturing between the two of you, his expression mock-serious. “Is this where we do the whole ‘first cuddle as a couple’ thing? I just don’t want to mess up the *routine* or anything. There’s like, a protocol, right?”

You laughed, leaning into him. “Pretty sure you’re doing fine so far.”

“Good to know,” he said, voice dipping into that soft, vulnerable tone he only used when it was just the two of you. He paused for a second, then turned his head slightly, his lips brushing your cheek. It was a tentative, sweet gesture, but it made your pulse race all the same. He pulled back, looking into your eyes, searching for any hesitation, but you smiled, giving him the go-ahead without words.

Stiles leaned in again, this time pressing his lips to yours in a soft kiss, his hand coming up to gently cup your cheek. The kiss was slow, gentle—like he was savoring the moment, taking his time to explore the feeling of being this close to you. His lips were soft, and you could still taste the faint mint on his breath.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were smiling, a little breathless. Stiles’ face was flushed, but the happiness in his eyes was undeniable.

“I think I like this ‘routine,’” he said, grinning.

“Yeah?” you teased, still close enough to feel his breath against your skin.

“Yeah,” he confirmed, pulling you closer again, his thumb gently brushing along your jawline. “We should definitely make this a regular thing.”

You chuckled, settling back into the couch as he wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly. The rain outside had picked up again, tapping softly against the windows, but inside, the world felt warm and safe. Stiles, ever the fidgeter, started tracing lazy patterns on your hand, his other arm snug around your waist.

“This is nice,” he murmured after a while, his voice starting to grow a little drowsy.

You nodded, feeling the same contentment wash over you. “Yeah, it is.”

For a few more moments, neither of you said anything, just enjoying the quiet comfort of being together. Then, out of nowhere, Stiles perked up. “Wait, the cookies! Did I miss the cooling window?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “No, they’re still good. You want to grab some now?”

“Hell yes,” he said, jumping up with renewed energy. He dashed to the kitchen and returned, holding a plate of warm cookies in triumph. “I’ve survived another day in Beacon Hills, and I deserve this,” he declared, handing you one before taking a huge bite out of his own. His eyes closed in bliss. “Oh my God, these are perfect.”

You grinned, taking a bite yourself. “Only the best for the hero of Beacon Hills.”

Stiles beamed at you, chocolate smudging the corner of his mouth. “Okay, stop. You’re gonna make me blush.”

“You’re already blushing,” you teased, leaning in to kiss the chocolate from his lips. And just like that, you found yourselves kissing again, sweet and soft, the taste of cookies mixing with the warmth of the moment.

In that instant, the world outside faded away. No werewolves, no banshees, no looming threats. Just you and Stiles, in the calm of a stormy Beacon Hills night, knowing that whatever craziness came next, you had each other.

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ksbbb · 2 months ago

Text

Fuck it Friday

Tagged by @hemlocksandfoxgloves @honestlydarkprincess

“I’ll make this quick.” Theo smiles, as he walks up to the table the chimera is strapped to, his blue eyes looking at him with a wide smile.

As if he’s been waiting for him to come.

“Please do.” The other chimera says, in a sing-song voice that creeps the hell out of Theo, but only because he was expecting a fight and not a willing participant.

“I will.” Theo holds the injection to the other man’s chest, the blue light of his eyes burning into a soft gold, and he has to be dreaming because there’s no way the dread doctors’ made him a literal copycat.

Not of Theo.

“Something bugging you?” The chimera gloats, his face still looking up at him, and despite Theo’s own plan to kill this guy he has to know if he’s right.

“They made you a coyote too?” Theo presses his hand into the table, not caring about the pain.

“Yes. Half wolf and half coyote. Was that a special thing reserved only for you? Oops.” The obnoxious chimera chuckles to himself, calling out Theo’s insecurity in a brazen attempt to deflect attention away from killing him.

@fruchtfliege @thiamsxbitch @thiamsalpha @mmoosen @wolfboy88 @maplesyrizzup @dreadful-doctors @cozy-writer @theoceanismyinkwell @chasing-chimeras @waterloou @thiamblogger @haven-of-dusk @johnsotherbastard @ashyjingles @slimeyslimeyballsack @morganasmissus @akirasstories

#teen wolf #theo raeken #liam dunbar #teen wolf thiam #thiam fanfic #thiam #fuck it friday #wip snippet #wip sneak peek #chimera Liam #chimera Theo #current wip #unedited #love echoes in the darkness of our souls #please forgive me #it needs to be edited

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stupidvillainousposts · 7 months ago

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The Best Mistake of Them All

Description: Stanley and Fidds have a good thing going, something they appreciate and hold dear. Figures that the thing that changes things up would be a stupid mispronunciation.

Rating: Explicit (But mainly towards the final quarter)

*Slight warning for bloodplay. We're working with a vampire/werewolf pairing, though, so it was bound to happen.

**Also, it's been a while since I've written smut, so it might be low quality, idk.

Fiddleford McGucket never had anything against dogs. He’d had his experiences with them when he was younger and growing up on his parents’ pig farm; they were typically pretty nice, though not very playful. Most of the working animals on the farm were focused on that and nothing more; working. Granted, the occasional piglet would offer Fidds enough of a friend for the time he was allowed to play with them, he always enjoyed spending time with the nicer pigs and hogs. The nicer ones never lasted long, though, much to Fidds’ dismay.

As a farming family, Fiddleford was well aware that the pigs were bred and kept for nothing more than selling for meat or even occasionally eaten by the family themselves. When they weren’t being sold or eaten by the family, they were left at the mercy of the elements and wild animals, the latter of which being chased off most of the time by the family dogs. Every now and then, unfortunately, a piglet or silt would be taken and devoured by wolves and bold coyotes.

Fidds had developed a bit of a tumultuous relationship with wolves, mainly because of how much they could destroy the profits of his family’s farm, but also because he’d personally watched one successfully sneak past the dogs and tear into a young sow with no restraint. Yes, Fidds was aware that this was nature, that the poor thing was just doing what it could to survive another day, but that didn’t stop his disdain from growing every time he thought about the incident.

From that point on, Fiddleford swore that he hated wolves.

And then the Portal Incident occurred.

Stanley Pines was a gruff but kind man; willing to do anything to protect those he cared about. He knew how to hold himself in a fight (likely a side effect of being a Jersey native, Fidds had deduced) and wasn’t afraid to taunt others who annoyed him (another trait Fidds attributed to Stanley’s Jersey roots). Beyond the fighting and taunting, however, there wasn’t much else wrong with the man, per say.

Save for the fact that he’d been turned into a (and lord forgive Fiddleford for his language) godforsaken werewolf.

Of all monsters Stanley could have been turned into, it just had to be a werewolf.

Fiddleford had had plenty of run-ins with the creatures throughout his time in Gravity Falls, and the general consensus he’d come to was that they were stubborn, aggressive, instinct driven brutes. Never before had Fidds found anything good about werewolves or their canid cousins.

Of course, until he met Stanley.

The feelings were… conflicting, to put it lightly. Fidds still wasn’t a fan of werewolves in general, but Stanley somehow broke away from everything Fiddleford was used to seeing in the species. The only time Fidds was really able to properly compare Stanley to other werewolves was when it was time for them to eat.

Yeesh; let it be written down and memorized to never try and take even the smallest slab of meat from a hungry wolf.

The irony was that Fidds hadn’t even been reaching for the raw steak, he’d just happened to brush his arm against Stanley’s whilst trying to grab a blood bag from the fridge!

Not his fault the goofball was so food aggressive.

“Hey, Specs, come ‘ere for a second!”

And, speaking of said goofball…

Fidds sighed and flicked one of his newly pointed ears before standing from his place at his desk. He and Stanley had been working on schematics and welding for the better part of the afternoon, and the country man had a strong feeling that he was being called over to do something silly. Like cuddling or laying on the cold-as-all-hell floor for no apparent reason.

“Need somethin’ important, Stanley?” Fidds calmly asked, hoping that this was just a moment of brief confusion that could be solved with simple teamwork. The vampire wasn’t necessarily in the mood for physical contact at the moment, and knew he’d be unable to say such a thing if Stanley was feeling touch-starved enough to pull his “puppy eyes” routine.

“Ya bet I do!” Stanley grouched, gesturing to his brother’s notes and beginning to snarl. “How’m I s’posed to read any of this shit?! It’s like he was writing hydro-glyphics!”

Fidds opened his mouth to respond, prepared to go on his usual ‘We both know Stanford wasn’t in his right mind’ spiel before he suddenly processed what Stanley had just said. “Hydro-glyphics?”

Stanley looked up at Fidds with a raised brow, ears perking in interest. “Uh, yeah? Those picture things that tell stories? I thought you were s’posed to be the genius here, not me.”

Fidds stood stock still for a moment, running the words through his head before chuckling. Then snickering. Then full on belly laughing. He threw his head back and cackled like a madman, stomping a foot on the ground before slapping his knee and taking a deep breath. “Oh! Now that was somethin’ else! Stanley Pines, ya sure do know how t’ make a fella laugh!”

Stanley’s lips quirked up at the sides, a small blush forming over the bridge of his nose. It was clear from Fiddleford’s reaction that he’d mispronounced something (again), and he always felt somewhat patronized when it turned into a joke only Fidds seemed to understand. He never said that aloud, didn’t want to upset the vampire, but usually went quiet so he could avoid saying anything else stupid.

“Man, ‘hydro-glyphics’; never heard it pronounced like that before. I’ll have to use that every now and then.” Fidds snickered, wiping a tear from his eye and turning his attention back to Stanley. His laughter died down and a frown appeared on his face as he noticed how embarrassed Stanley looked, ears drooping and tail slightly curling against the man’s leg. “Hey, I didn’t mean t’ upset ya. Forgive me if I said somethin’ unkind.”

“Ah, it’s fine. I’ve had worse said t’ me.” Stanley replied, putting on a face of false bravado as he sat up and willed himself to look happier than he was. “Besides, I say dumb shit all the time! It’s always nice to have an audience up close to hear it!”

“Oh, Stanley, no; I didn’t mean-”

“Specs, it’s fine. I’m fine.” Stanley assured, placing a large hand onto Fidds’ shoulder and offering a small smile. “Promise.”

Fiddleford was completely unconvinced by the promise, but decided not to pry for fear of being snapped at. Literally. “If ya say so.”

“I do.” A blush reappeared on Stanley’s face at the words, and he cleared his throat before burying his nose into Stanford’s journal once more. “Maybe it’d be best if ya went back t’ doin’ your welding crap.”

“Oh! Okay. If that’s what ya want.” Fidds hummed, flicking an ear once more before leaning forward to get a good look at his previous lab partner’s horrid writing. “Ya sure you’ll be able t’ decipher that mumbo jumbo on yer own?”

Stanley snorted slightly, muttering ‘Mumbo jumbo’ under his breath before nodding. “I’m fine, really. I’ll just have to get a magnifying glass or use one of these weird inventions.” He made a point to awkwardly fiddle with a random object.

“Stanley, honey, that’s a microscope.” Fidds muttered with a barely restrained smile. He couldn’t stop the soft giggle that escaped when Stanley’s face turned bright red and he set the tool down with indiscernible mutters. “Alright, I’ll let ya work with yer ‘weird inventions’. Call me over again if ya need me.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Stanley huffed, honing in on the journal and trying not to scream in embarrassment.

The two worked in remote silence for the next half hour, only stopping when Stanley’s stomach growled fiercely. It made both men jump, followed by a shared chuckle as they quickly recovered.

“I take it you’re ready for a break?” Fidds teased, standing and stretching until his back popped. As he did so, his shirt rode up just enough to show the slightest bit of skin, the pale belly doing things to Stanley that he could barely comprehend. The werewolf’s tail wagged frantically, and a bit of drool trailed down his chin, making for a sight not dissimilar to a hungry dog. Upon noticing this, Fidds smirked and lowered his arms. “You must really be hungry. I ain’t ever seen ya so excited!”

Stanley damn near yelped as his actions were pointed out, one arm quickly racing to wipe away the drool and the other pressing down against his tail to stop the wagging. “Yeah, well, I haven’t eaten since early this morning, so…”

“I suppose that makes sense. And bein’ down here don’t necessarily help us know what time o’ day it is, does it?” Fidds hummed, fangs digging into his chin as he let his mind wander. It was a little habit he’d picked up a few days into being a vampire, and one that Stanley adored; though the wolfman would obviously never say such a thing.

He had to live up to his macho looks somehow, right?

“Well, while you stand there and think about quantum physics or whatever, I am going to get something to eat.” Stanley announced, standing and starting the journey up the stairs that led to their secret hideout. His ears swiveled back as he checked to see if Fidds was following, and he hummed with amusement at the barely there sound of swift footsteps trailing after him. “I’m thinking a thick steak, five pounds, nice and bloody to give it flavor.”

“You like most of yer meat thick, don’t ya?” Fidds hummed, not recognizing the unintended innuendo until Stanley quickened his pace and grumbled bashfully. “Stanley? What’s… wait. OH MY STARS! Stanley, please! I didn’t mean it like that!”

“No, it’s fine, Specs! I know what you meant!” Stanley shouted, cursing himself inwardly for his body’s reaction to the innocent question. Damn him and his crush on Fiddleford! The poor guy didn’t deserve that; Stanley was certain Fidds didn’t even like men like that! He’d never made it a point to comment about it or anything similar!

Then again, maybe he did like men; maybe it was Stanley he didn’t like.

That thought made Stanley huff and storm away from Fidds faster, ears flat against his head and tail swishing in anger. It was irrational and unfair, true, but Stanley was never one who was very in tune with his emotions. Anything that wasn’t anger, triumph, or general ‘tough guy behavior’ was weak, that’s what his father had taught him.

Of course, that was all while Filbrick was under the impression that Stanley was a “normal” son.

“Stanley, please! I promise I wasn’t tryin’ t’ make ya uncomfortable! It was a slip o’ the tongue, I swear!” Fidds’ shouts of despair were nearly enough to break Stanley’s heart, and while they didn’t do that, they were enough to make the larger man stop and let Fidds catch up. Frantic apologies of all sorts spilled from Fiddleford’s mouth, the poor man’s twang growing stronger the more upset he became. “I know I can mess things up sometimes, a-and I’m workin’ on it, I swear! Please, ya can do whatever ya want- Scream, rant, tear the shack apart, just… Please don’t leave!”

Stanley was shocked to hear a whimper spill from his own throat, though the shock only lasted so long before he regained himself enough to pull Fidds into a tight, reassuring hug. “Hey, now; you could call me the worst names in the world and I wouldn’t leave your country butt.”

Fidds giggled, wiping his eyes as best he could before taking a shaky breath. “Y-yeah, I s’pose that makes sense. Ya got yer brother t’ save ‘nd all. I guess that’d be mighty difficult without someone who helped build the portal.”

Stanley hugged Fidds tighter at the subtle self deprecation, burying his face in Fidds’ hair before speaking. “Not just that, Specs. You’re pretty neat in your own right, couldn’t imagine leaving someone like you alone, even for a minute.”

The soft hum that came from Fidds was neither happy nor upset, simply a sound that indicated he’d heard what Stanley said, that the genuine statement was acknowledged and- at the very least -taken into consideration. They stood in their position for a good while, pressed against each other and doing nothing more than basking in each others’ presence. It was calm, it was relaxing, it was-

GRRRRRRRR!

“Shit, probably should have nabbed something to eat before trapping ya here.” Stanley muttered, apologizing for the sudden and aggressive disruption. He raised a brow as Fidds chuckled, tail wagging when Fidds placed his hands onto Stanley’s face. “Careful there, Specs. Don’t want me confusing you for dinner.”

“I think we both know you have more self control than that.” Fidds snorted, moving a hand to run his fingers through Stanley’s mullet. “Better than most of the other werewolves in this town.”

“Wait, there’s other werewolves in Gravity Falls?” Stanley asked, unsure if he should be relieved or concerned by that fact.

“Oh, yeah. Plenty of ‘em!” Fidds confirmed, continuing to play with Stanley’s hair as he spoke. “Frustratin’ grouches, all of ‘em.”

“Should I be offended by that?” Stanley playfully asked, humming contentedly as the hair playing turned into head scratching.

“I wouldn’t say so. There’s somethin’ different ‘bout ya. I don’t get the ‘Macho tough guy’ vibe from ya. Them others, though? I’ve had one try t’ bite me just ‘cause I accidentally ran into her!” Fidds frowned at the memory, ears dropping in frustration. The sight was enough to make Stanley burst into laughter, his bulky frame making Fidds’ body shake with each laugh. “What’s so funny?!”

“Your ears!” Stanley cackled, hugging Fidds closer and nuzzling his cheek against the vampire’s. “I thought I was the only one who could do that!”

“Do what?” Fidds asked, unable to stop the laughter that spread through his chest. Seeing Stanley happy always made the southerner happy, made him giddy and his stomach do all sorts of flips.

“Just drop down like that!” Stanley answered, using two fingers to gently tug at one of Fidds’ ears. He very clearly wasn’t thinking, too caught up in his own delight, but that all faded at the faintest sound of a moan that spilled past Fiddleford’s lips. “Wait, huh?”

Fidds blushed and looked down at the floor, petrified by what he’d just done. The engineer had developed a crush on Stanley just a few days after their meeting, attracted to his easygoing and- somehow simultaneously -serious demeanor. All was fine between them, they had a steady friendship going, and Fidds wouldn’t trade that for anything, too afraid of being rejected and laughed at were he to admit to his attraction.

“Could we, um… pretend that didn’t happen?” Fidds nervously requested, wringing his hands together nervously and continuing to avoid eye contact.

Stanley blinked once, twice, three times in response, still somewhat confused by what had happened. Surely he hadn’t just heard Fiddleford McGucket- the man Stanley had been crushing on for the past month -moan in response to something Stanley had done.

And if that was the case, then Stanley was very eager to hear the delicious sound again.

“Specs…? Fidds; do you… do ya think you could…” Stanley took a second to recompose himself, hoping he wasn’t about to chase off the skittish man. They were still pressed together, so maybe there was some hope, but he still didn’t want to be too brash. This situation required calm subtly. “Think you could make that sound for me again?”

Well, so much for calm subtly.

Fidds finally turned his attention up to Stanley, heartbeat picking up and pupils growing in size. It was a sight that nearly drove the larger man insane, a fact he made very clear as he dove in to press an experimental kiss onto Fiddleford’s lips. The second, slightly louder moan that came in response made Stanley growl, his claws moving to dig into Fidds’ thin hips. At that, Fidds pulled back and let out a much louder moan, growling and hissing as he tried to hide his face in Stanley’s chest.

“Y’know, I don’t think I’m hungry anymore.” Stanley hummed, tactfully dragging a clawed hand down Fidds’ back. He smirked at the pleased shudder and desperate gasp that came from the vampire in response. “At least, not for a lousy steak~”

“Is that… really the best ya can come up with?” Fidds challenged, leaning closer against Stanley so their- now very apparent -erections could rub together. “Pretty sure I’ve heard better lines from bad movies.”

Taking the challenge with glee, Stanley swiftly lifted Fidds off the ground, waiting for spindly legs to wrap around him before they made their trek upstairs and into Fidds’ room. “Whaddya want? Hmm? Want me t’ tell ya what I plan on doing to ya? Want me to… to mark you all over, make ya bleed until ya have no choice but to bite me and take all the blood ya want? ‘Cause I’ll let ya; oh baby will I let ya~”

“Oh, ffffuuuuuuuck!” Fidds moaned, shaking violently at every thought. “Yes! All o’ that! Bleed me and do nothing but lay back and take it when I bite ya, when I drink from that gorgeous neck o’ yers until I want to stop!”

“Shit, Specs; where’d ya learn to talk like that?” Stanley gasped, using the moment of lust to tear through the vampire’s clothes (he’d get in trouble for it, no doubt; that was Fidds’ favorite shirt and only lab coat). “Go on, tell me what else ya want me to do.”

“I want ya- No, I need ya t’ put that hard dick o’ yers in me.” Fidds hissed, leaning in so he could whisper into Stanley’s ear with the most dangerous smirk he could muster. “And when ya do that, I’m gonna pin ya down and ride ya like a wild stallion. Gonna make ya cuss and yell and want t’ flip me over and rearrange every organ in my body~”

“Shit, that last part shouldn’t be as hot as you’re making it.” Stanley snarled, backing up until he fell back onto Fidds’ bed. The couple bounced on the mattress just slightly, making them laugh at the action before getting right back into their lustful mood. “Ya better hope I don’t go into Rut ‘cause o’ you.”

“Would that be so bad?” Fidds asked, feigning innocence with an almost disturbing amount of ease. “I wouldn’t mind hearin’ ya go on and on ‘bout claimin’ me. Wouldn’t mind ya makin’ me scream loud enough t’ let the whole dang town know who I belong to. Hell, I wouldn’t be opposed t’ lettin’ ya knot me, if ya really wanted to~”

“Alright, that’s it.” Stanley decided to forego any form of teasing he’d had planned, tearing through the rest of Fiddleford’s clothes and snarling at the moans he received when his claws broke skin in the process. “I’m gonna make you mine, and no one and nothing is gonna stop me!”

Fidds had moved past his ability to spit out legible pleas, instead reduced to desperate whining and moaning. He bucked his hips excitedly, growling at the lack of friction the action gave him. That only lasted so long, however, as Stanley disposed of his own clothes with just as much ferocity. Their cocks rubbed together frantically, forcing hisses and snarls out of them both (the hissing coming mainly from Fidds, which Stanley found outrageously arousing) as they got closer and closer to finishing.

“Wait, wait! STOP!” Stanley snapped, gripping Fidds’ hips and panting alongside the shaking vampire. “We can’t keep going like that, it’ll end the fun way too fast.”

“We don’t even know what our refractory periods are, Stanley.” Fidds snorted. “For all we know, our enhanced bodies could cause an increase in-”

“Specs, I love ya, but less talking and more fucking.” Stanley huffed, giving Fidds no time to respond before reaching down on the floor to retrieve the bottle of lube he always kept in his pants.

For emergencies, of course.

“Should I be disturbed or aroused by the fact that you ‘pparently carry lubricant around in yer pocket?” Fidds asked, a genuinely amused smile on his face that never left, even as Stanley mockingly repeated the question. “Just wanna make sure I know how t’ react, Sugar.”

“What you should be reacting to is this.” Stanley replied, slowly pushing into Fidds despite the previously rushed pace. They were doing this with no prep- save for the almost excessive lube -and even though Stanley planned on absolutely ravishing this gorgeous man on top of him, the last thing he wanted was to hurt Fidds.

Fiddleford gave his loudest moan yet, attempting to push down faster and sneering as his hips were stopped. “C’mon, Stanley! I can handle a bit o’ pain!”

“As hot as that is, I want to be able to enjoy this without breaking you in half.” Stanley chuckled, moving one hand to cup Fidds’ cheek. “Maybe next round~”

A sharp shudder was followed by a nod, and Fidds allowed himself to bask in the slight pain he was already feeling, his dick giving a slight twitch as he thought about how much better this was about to get.

But even his genius brain couldn’t possibly have imagined it to be this good.

The bed creaked and wailed as Fidds rode Stanley like a panicked boar, scratches and bites on both bodies with each movement. Stanley’s claws had dug deep into Fidds’ hips long ago, making blood spill between them and making Fidds slightly woozy. Once the vampire started swaying, Stanley used a claw to cut into his own neck, waiting for the scent to drive Fidds into action. The sharp (and surprisingly painful) bite that followed made Stanley’s hips launch up, hitting the perfect spot and making Fidds see stars. Frantic panting came from both men as they chased their climax, mixing with the screaming bed frame and sounds of the bed’s legs scraping against the wood floor.

“Stanley, oh, Sugar! I’m gettin’ so close!” Fidds screamed, voice muffled by Stanley’s neck. “Just a little more! Please, I need more o’ ya! I’ll die without ya!”

That final statement was enough to drive Stanley into a frenzy, and his hips seemed to move by their own accord, slamming up erratically and hitting that magic bundle of nerves repeatedly. It was bordering on painful at this point, and Fidds loved it, letting Stanley’s neck go so he could openly wail out words of pleasure straight into the werewolf’s sensitive ear. Seconds later, Stanley found himself slamming Fiddleford down and pressing their hips flush together as his climax hit like a freight train. Fidds followed soon after, biting Stanley’s neck once more to keep from making the poor man deaf in one ear.

“FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK!” Stanley gasped, back arching once more before he plopped down and went near boneless. “We have… we’ve got to do that again sometime.”

Fidds chuckled, releasing Stanley’s neck and pulling back so he could wipe the blood from the corners of his mouth. “I concur.”

“How do you make science-y stuff sound so sexy?” Stanley groaned, making no complaint as Fidds settled down on top of him. “It don’t make sense.”

“Maybe it’s just you.” Fidds hummed, running a thumb along the puncture wounds he’d left. He imagined he had some pretty bad wounds as well, but neither of them would take long to heal. Another perk of being a supernatural creature, he supposed. “Regardless, I think I might need some time to recover before we do this again.”

Stanley went quiet for a moment, flicking an ear before wrapping his arms around Fidds. “And… what would you call ‘this’, exactly?”

“Hmm?” Fidds sounded delirious and tired, but stayed awake enough to comprehend and respond to the question. “Whatever ya like t’ call it. Love makin’, sex, fuckin’-”

“Alright, I’m gonna stop you there so I don’t get excited again.” Stanley muttered, smiling contentedly at Fidds’ loving chuckle. “Good to know that we both feel the same about each other.”

“What a way t’ confirm it.” Fidds commented, noting Stanley’s nod before closing his eyes. The couple lay in silence for a solid minute before Fidds snickered. “Hydro-glyphics.”

“Alright, that’s it. Get off my dick-”

#Gravity Falls #Monster AU #Fiddlestan #Fanfic #Long Post #I Haven't Written Smut in a Minute #Forgive Me if it's Lackluster #I Did My Best Okay

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