#easy werewolf face paint

[rotworld]

Fitting the Collar

that weird guy from the club wants to go for a walk in the woods in werewolf territory. a continuation of sheep's clothing and savior.

->sawyer/reader/corbin. explicit; contains noncon, coercion, implied stalking, feral behavior, typical werewolf-pack human power imbalance, outdoor sex, thighfucking, knotting (doesn't actually happen but discussed in detail)

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WOLVES IN THESE WOODS screams the vandalized trail kiosk. These words are scrawled over a map of the mountain, each big red letter spray painted in so many thick, messy layers that they drip like blood. This eyesore greets you at the edge of the parking lot where gravel turns to dirt and sunlight strains through the leaves. It’s not news, to you or to anyone who’s lived near the mountains for any amount of time. Dogwalkers and families on bikes barely spare the sign a glance as they set off, because of course there are werewolves. They shop at the hardware store and sell produce at the farmer’s market. Once a year, they come to Eastridge City Hall to negotiate another year of peaceful cohabitation and give the local news something to catastrophize about.

And yet, the graffiti gives you pause. It’s probably just some mischief but it looks so dire, clashing with the rustic charm of the wooden kiosk and the tranquil beauty of the forest all around it. You tell yourself there’s nothing to worry about. You’ve seen werewolves before. But the fearful part of your brain that makes you flinch and look around nervously every time a twig snaps reminds you that this is different. You’ve seen them in town, in public, at gas stations and second-hand stores, one time at a coffee shop. You’re on their turf now. You glance back at your car, parked in the shade, and think about backing out. Texting an apology and an excuse, some last minute emergency that you can’t neglect.

“Hey, you made it!” You don’t see him coming because you’re watching the parking lot, not the trail. An arm slings around your shoulder, dragging you into a sideways hug. You’re startled and off-balance, too stunned to do anything about a relative stranger nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck with an uncomfortably deep inhale until it’s already over. He pulls away with one last stroke of his thumb against your cheek, and then he shoves his hands in his pockets and stands at a distance like it never happened. “I’m glad you came,” Corbin says. He looks like he’s been hiking without you, prickly seeds stuck to his jacket and mud caked to his boots. Those vicious markings littering his neck are on full display with his hair pulled back. You try not to look at them but your gaze is repeatedly drawn back down. Some of them look fresh, still puffy and irritated. “It wasn’t too hard to find, right?”

“No, it was fine,” you say, wondering for the hundredth time how he talked you into this. 

“Great! You’re gonna love this trail. It’s super easy, don’t worry. And we can go slow…” Something over your shoulder catches his eye and his brows furrow, his mouth pressing into a tight frown. “Well, that’s annoying. And covering up the map like that! Packless—” He cuts himself off abruptly, glancing at you with a sheepish smile like he said something you might find offensive. Strangest of all, he goes out of his way to take a picture of it, standing back with his phone raised so he can get the whole sign in frame. “Some people, right? Anyway, let’s get moving.” 

You remember the conversation that led to this outing. Idle chatter in a mall food court, held hostage out of polite obligation because he’d bought you lunch even when you insisted he didn’t have to. You smiled nervously while he went on and on about how nice the weather had been lately, how perfect it was for long walks in the woods and how all the best trails were in the next town over. You should’ve seen the invitation coming but instead you were thinking that it was weird, right, that this random guy had suddenly become such a big part of your life, weird that you kept running into each other when he didn’t even leave in Eastridge. 

You were relieved when he stopped showing up at Club Mountainview to tip you obscene amounts of money for serving him appetizers and occasionally refilling his water between drunk, demanding customers, but then he started showing up everywhere else. Not all the time, though. Not so often or so conspicuously that you could confidently call it stalking. Sometimes he comes into your favorite coffee shop just as you’re leaving and he doesn’t even wave. Sometimes he disappears for weeks at a time without explanation. But when you do talk, when he smiles at you and pulls you into his shamelessly intimate affection, rubbing his face in your hair or humming in contentment against your neck, something in you responds with embarrassing eagerness. Maybe you’ve just been too busy lately, starved for interaction. You can’t shake the feeling that he can see right through you. You never say much, but he seems to know you better than you know yourself.

“I appreciate you coming all this way. It doesn’t seem like you get a lot of time off,” Corbin says. The trail is wide enough that you can walk side by side with some room between you, but he sticks close. Your sleeves brush sometimes.

“I’m glad I did,” you tell him. “You weren’t kidding, it’s really nice out here.” 

His eyes light up, smile widening as though you complimented him instead. “It is, isn’t it?” 

The trail is a gentle winding path into the mountains full of birdsong and warm breeze. You see speckles of moss and wildflowers, a sea of swaying greenery that seems to go on forever. Corbin stops halfway across a bridge straddling a river and you clasp the railing beside him, watching the water stream white-capped over the rocks below. You linger for a while, enjoying the sound of the rapids and the occasional glimpse of a fish darting downstream. You catch him staring in the corner of your eye. He smiles, unashamed, and scoots closer. His shoulder rests against yours.

“This is wolf territory,” he says. His tone is strange and hard for you to identify. It’s not sad, exactly, but it’s stern. Solemn. Like he’s telling you something profound. “Do you know much about the pack that lives here?” 

He’s watching your expression carefully and trying to pretend he isn’t. The scrutiny makes you uncomfortable. You push back from the railing and he follows with a small frown but begins walking again, giving you more distance than he did before. “Not really,” you say, shrugging. “I don’t know much about werewolves in general.” 

It’s an odd question, you think, and it’s odder still when he hums in acknowledgement and drops the subject. You keep walking, keenly aware of his presence beside you. You’ve wondered for a while now if Corbin might be a werewolf. You’re sure he was with some when you first met. It wasn’t just that they were a little intense and eccentric. You felt cornered when they looked at you, a spark of fight-or-flight igniting in your chest. It was instinct. You sensed something wild and powerful, and you braced yourself to run if it bared its teeth.

“What’s on your mind?” he asks. The way he looks at you, the sly smile on his lips, makes it seem like he already knows.

You don’t want to ask. That would be rude, right? And what difference does it make? Werewolves haven’t been going around hunting and eating people for centuries, no matter what the tabloids say. “Just thinking,” you say. 

“Mhm? About what?” 

“Just…stuff.” Now he’s staring and not being subtle about it at all. You keep expecting him to trip but he keeps his eyes on you the whole time instead of on the path ahead without any trouble. Like he’s walked this trail a thousand times, you think. Like it’s second nature. “What do you do?” you ask, desperate for something else to talk about. 

“Like, for work?” His gaze wanders away for a moment and he tilts his head, his expression becoming amused and wistful. For such a simple question, he takes a long time considering his answer. “I guess it’s kind of like a human resources job.” He grins. You feel like there’s a joke you’re not getting. “Not the stuffy office kind. I work out here, actually.” 

“Out here?” you echo. “Like with the Parks and Rec service?” 

“With parts of it, yeah.” The path splits, a fork meandering into thicker brush and foliage. You’re not sure if it’s a proper trail or just a common footpath worn into the grass. It’s narrower, rougher and more uneven, carpeted in fallen leaves as though few people have been through to disturb them. There’s a tree right where the smaller path breaks off, a symbol carved into the bark. You don’t know what it is; a mishmash of jagged lines intersect with squiggling curves, gouged into the wood with something sharp. Corbin insists on going this way despite your reservations. “It’s part of the trail, I promise,” he assures you, his hand resting on your lower back with just the slightest pressure, urging you to keep moving. “Unless you’re tired and wanna go back?”

You wouldn’t mind seeing more of the trail, but you stare down the path with apprehension. You see it curves gently upwards as it goes, slowly ascending further into the mountains. “We could head back,” you say, but Corbin doesn’t let go. He keeps pushing, offering a reassuring smile.

“Can I show you one more thing?” he asks. “Just a little further. Then we can go.” Just like that time at the mall, you plan on refusing. The words are on the tip of your tongue but you can’t seem to get them out. There’s something about Corbin—not any particular thing he says or does, just the way he is. He stands close to you. He looks you in the eye. His hand rises from your back and slides up and down your arm instead, a soothing gesture that you find yourself embarrassingly reactive to, and then he takes your hand in his. “You’re afraid of wolves, aren’t you?” 

You shake your head, not trusting your voice to stay steady if you answer. He just smiles. 

“It’s alright, I get it. They seem kind of scary, right? A lot stronger and faster than us. But y’know, they’re actually pretty gentle. I’ve been living and working with one of the local packs for a while now. They take good care of me.” 

“You live with them?” you ask, disbelieving. 

Corbin laughs. He takes your hand in both of his, rubbing his thumbs into your skin. “I want to show you something,” he says softly. “Please? I promise, you’re safe with me.” He does it again somehow; quells your worries and draws you closer, talking you into something you didn’t want to do. He keeps holding your hand when he starts walking, looking over his shoulder periodically to smile and tell you it’s not far now. You pass a fallen log with squirrels shuffling around inside, a wooden guardrail at the edge of a ravine, a hill dotted with wildflowers. The birds are louder here, the sunlight even softer where it manages to trickle through the trees. Corbin slows his pace when you almost trip and fall, the toe of your shoe catching on a tree root snaking across the path. He’s looking for something. He keeps talking, telling you the scientific names of everything you can see, but his gaze scans the forest as you walk. 

He must find it, because suddenly he stops and drags you to a halt beside him. You’re quickly ushered off the trail, dragged into a crouch beside Corbin behind a mossy boulder. He doesn’t respond to your nervous stammering except to press his finger to your lips with a mischievous smile. Then he points, over the boulder and up ahead. You don’t see anything. Corbin exhales sharply in amusement at your pinched, confused expression. He gets closer, an arm draped over your shoulders to pull you in as much as he can. He smells like these woods; earth and grass stains, sharply evergreen. His body heat warms your side. He points again. 

This time, you see it but only because it moves. There’s something out there. A blur. A shape. Brown, black and gray, drifting in the spaces between the trees. With a sudden surge of breathless panic, you realize those are wolves. Not one but several, moving with nearly silent, predatory grace. Their tails flick as they trot briskly through the dappled shade. You can tell they’re enormous, even from here, bigger than any dog you’ve ever seen. The one in the lead has thick, coal black fur, and it stops suddenly with a quiet bark. The others spread out in a semi-circle, ears pricked and attentive. 

Corbin squeezes your shoulder as if to remind you he’s there. He leans in, whispering into your ear. “Shepherds. They’re on patrol.” 

You’re not sure if you’re watching a meeting, an argument, or something else altogether. The wolf in charge chuffs and paws at the dirt, the others watching, tilting their heads. They seem to reach some kind of understanding because all but the leader start moving again. That one lingers, watching them leave. It sits in a sunbeam, its dark fur looking silky in the light. Then it lurches forward with a strained whimper like it’s going to be sick, foamy saliva dribbling from its open maw. You watch in speechless horror as the wolf’s fur starts to bulge and shiver like something is moving under its skin. Corbin’s grip on you tightens just as you tense, ready to run.

“It’s alright,” he whispers. “He’s just shifting. He has trouble with it sometimes.” 

You don’t want to watch this but you’re afraid to look away. The wolf curls around itself with limbs that are all wrong, too long and bending strangely. Its paws stretch and lengthen. Its snout shrinks. It groans and the sound is wet and throaty, its fur receding in patches that expose the shift of sinew in sudden, cracking snaps that hurt to hear. You see skin, slick and shining with sweat. You see fingers tipped with thick, black claws. The sound of bones popping in and out of sockets finally fades and you hear soft panting. The wolf is halfway to man. It goes no further. Still breathing heavily, he sits up and runs a hand through long, messy bangs the same dark color as the stubborn patches of fur still clinging to his limbs and back. He climbs to his feet and—

he’s naked. Completely head to toe naked, soft cock and heavy balls dangling between his legs. You think, for the second time, that you shouldn’t be seeing this, but Corbin still doesn’t let you get up. You find him watching you, studying your expression intently. Has he been doing that the whole time? 

“Corbin.” The werewolf’s voice is low, rough and growling. He’s looking right at the two of you like the boulder’s not even there. Corbin laughs. He lets you stand up when he does, but he keeps you trapped against his side. His hand slides from your shoulder to your waist. 

“Beta,” Corbin greets. He lifts his head and tilts it to the side, exposing his throat. The werewolf makes a sound in his throat, something like a dismissive grunt. “This is Sawyer,” he tells you, nodding to the wolf. “He’s not a shepherd anymore, but sometimes he goes with them—”

“Who is this?” Sawyer asks. He approaches slowly, almost cautiously, pointed ears twitching. 

Corbin tries to push you forward but you dig your heels in. “My friend—”

“Shouldn’t be here.” Sawyer’s eyes are like a wolf’s—no sclera, only inky black and golden-brown. You’re afraid to even breathe when his wide-eyed animalistic stare pins you in place. “You’re lucky I found you first, before this became a problem. No one’s thinking clearly this time of year.”

“My friend,” Corbin insists. “The one I told you about, from the club in Eastridge.” Sawyer’s gaze leaves you momentarily, meeting Corbin’s eyes instead. Corbin’s practically vibrating with excitement. His fingers tap a quick rhythm into your side. 

“Ah,” Sawyer says. He looks at you again, still frowning and pensive. “Should I go?” you ask nervously. 

“No.” Your heart skips a beat when Sawyer and Corbin answer in unison, the word pronounced as a firm growl. Corbin laughs. Sawyer doesn’t, shifting uncomfortably. His tail sways in a slow, uncertain wag. “No,” he repeats quietly. “I’m sorry if I scared you. I’m…cautious with outsiders.” 

You never expected to hear a werewolf sound so anxious and awkward. “It’s okay. I get it, I’m in your home.” 

“My home is open to you.” He looks off into the distance. It’s hard to deny that he’s handsome. He has unusual features, everything sharpened and wolf-like but still recognizably human. He’s taller than both you and Corbin, lithe and muscular, the story of a long, difficult life told across the many scars carved into his skin. His limbs are long, unnaturally so, like something didn’t settle where it was supposed to while he was shifting. 

“They’re a little nervous around werewolves,” Corbin chuckles, making your face fill with embarrassed heat. 

“I just haven’t met very many,” you insist. Sawyer glances at you and you still can’t tell if he’s angry or not. You break eye contact and hear him take a deep breath, letting it out slowly. 

“You can look at me, if you’d like,” he offers. He tilts his head, a gesture that strikes you as very dog-like and endearing. “I prefer doing search and rescue in wolfskin, but some people are afraid of dogs. So I approach slowly. I lay down and let them get a good look at me first. It tends to help.” You try to insist that it’s not a problem, you’re not afraid of dogs, but Sawyer just shakes his head. “Come look. It doesn’t bother me. I know I’m a little strange compared to the others.” 

Corbin nudges you gently. You resist the first time, more weakly the second. The third soft push sends you a few steps forward. Sawyer doesn’t move, letting you come to him. You’re still nervous but Corbin encourages you with a nod and a grin. “He doesn’t bite. Not unless you’re really good, or really bad.” 

“Corbin,” Sawyer says, his tone almost scolding. He’s still not smiling, but maybe that’s just how he is. He looks calm, at least, no longer terse or frustrated. His posture is loose and open, arms at his sides and gaze casually wandering the woods, but his tail is moving faster now. Wagging, like a happy dog. It’s hard not to find him cute. The closer you get, the more details emerge. He has freckles on his shoulders. A habit of leaning, resting all of his weight on one leg or the other. Old scars, mostly on his chest and upper body, a few bald patches in the fur on his arms in jagged stripes. When you’re close enough to touch him, you notice he has scars on his face, too, mostly hidden by his unkempt hair. “You’re from Eastridge,” he says. It doesn’t sound like a question, but you nod. “Corbin says you work at a…nightclub.” He says “nightclub” like it’s a city in a foreign country, some place he’s heard of but never seen. 

“Yeah, in the restaurant. I wait tables, nothing fancy.”

“Hm. Sounds unpleasant. Thankless.”

Thankless. Didn’t Corbin use the exact same word when you first met? “It can be sometimes,” you admit.

Sawyer looks at Corbin again. You get the feeling that they’re communicating somehow, sharing an understanding you’re not privy to. “Do you mind if I…greet you?” Sawyer asks. There’s a rasp to his voice that wasn’t there before, some emotion he’s trying to mask. “The traditional way.” 

“Uh, I guess that’s fine?” You’ve barely finished speaking when he steps forward. Two long strides and he has you, his thumb on your chin tilting your head to the side. He has to bend slightly to bury his face in the side of your neck. He takes long, audible sniffs and rubs his face into your skin, one cheek and then the other. Your hands are on his shoulders but you don’t push him away because this is familiar, you realize. Corbin does this to you all the time. It’s a little more intense with Sawyer because he wants you as close as possible, right up against him so it’s impossible to ignore the twitching heat of his cock nestled against your abdomen. 

Sawyer makes a low, rumbling sound, something between a growl and a purr. “Mm. Hello,” he drawls. He sounds happy, almost intoxicated. He nuzzles into you again with a relieved sigh. “Sorry, again. Hard to tell at a distance. You smell trustworthy.” 

It’s such a strange thing to say that you can’t help but laugh. “What does that smell like?” you ask, nervous. Trying to pull away doesn’t get you anywhere. Sawyer’s arms are a vice around you and it’s a struggle just to turn far enough to look back at Corbin for help.

“Like me, basically,” Corbin says. He almost sounds smug. 

“Like him,” Sawyer agrees. He cups your face in his large, clawed hands and “greets” you again, cheek to cheek, forehead to forehead. Your heart flutters when he noses along your jaw and under your chin, maneuvering you as he likes. He speaks in a low, steady murmur while he explains. “Some emotions come through, if they’re strong enough. Some intentions. What isn’t there also matters. No wolf blood. No gunpowder. No chemical accelerant. I can tell the difference, you know. Whether you were just filling up your car or if you’ve been…up to something. Especially out here.”

“Gunpowder?” you repeat, startled. “Accelerant? Wh—why—?”

“Hunters.” Corbin is closer than you remember him being. He stands right behind you, rubbing your shoulders. Trying to move away from Sawyer presses you against Corbin instead and he chuckles like you did something cute, nuzzling the back of your head. “The regular kind’s bad enough,” he mutters. “But the worst ones are infiltrators, acting like they want—”

“It doesn’t matter,” Sawyer says sharply. You feel Corbin stiffen behind you. He bows his head meekly, kissing your shoulder. Sawyer takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. He rubs his cheek against yours one more time and then he pulls back far enough to look you in the eye. “It doesn’t matter,” he repeats, his tone softening. “It was nice to meet you. I should…” He trails off. You watch the muscles in his throat tense and bob when he swallows. His gaze lowers to your lips, your neck, your chest. His cock twitches again. You feel it stiffening, filling with blood. 

“How do they smell?” Corbin asks. His hands slide down to your hips, fingers kneading their way into the waistband of your pants. 

Sawyer grips the back of your neck with sudden firmness. He makes that rumbling sound again in response to your frightened stammering, hushing you softly before he inhales against your throat. “Afraid,” he murmurs. “But not just afraid.” He rocks his hips, grinding his hot, hardening cock against your clothes. There’s not enough room to struggle. Trying to wiggle out from between them just makes them both close in harder, chest to chest with Sawyer while Corbin drapes himself against your back. 

“You’re okay,” Corbin coos, his gentle tone completely at odds with how roughly he grabs your wrists and yanks them behind your back. “Shhhh, no, you’re okay. He’s not gonna hurt you.” 

Sawyer tilts your head back and makes you look at him. Fight or flight fails you. You freeze in terror. Those haunting black and gold eyes don’t belong to a man but an animal, hungry and about to pounce. “Please let me go,” you beg him, your voice quivering. “Please, please don’t—” His hand wraps around your throat. He doesn’t squeeze. He doesn’t have to. The threat is there, his callused palm resting on your windpipe. Why didn’t you scream earlier? Why aren’t you screaming now? You can hear your own thudding pulse in your temples. “It’s okay,” Corbin whispers. “It’s all okay. You’re safe, and you’re so special and so loved. Do you want him?” You stammer out a refusal, pleas, scared sounds. Corbin chuckles and noses against your ear. “You can be honest. It’s okay if you do. Wolves want us, and we want them. That’s just how it is.”

Sawyer’s trying to undress you. He tugs at your pants but he stops when you make a shrill sound of panic and start to twist and fight. He seizes the back of your neck again, harder this time, and you go completely still when his teeth scrape the tender flesh of your throat. 

Corbin takes over for him. He holds both of your wrists in one hand, the other gradually exposing your hips to the cool air. “You’re being so good. That’s it. Deep breaths. He’s not mad at you. He wants you so much.” He’s hard, you realize. Fully hard and throbbing in his pants. Corbin’s breath hitches and he moans softly into your ear, getting off on all of this. “He’s gonna use your thighs,” Corbin whispers, low and excited. He gets your pants down just far enough to expose your sex and the swell of your ass, keeping your legs trapped. “Just your thighs. Don’t be scared. He’s gonna let you feel his knot.”

Sawyer growls. He grabs you by the hips and you feel his cock poking your inner thigh. He drags you into his movements, long, slow thrusts against your sex that make you whine. He’s still growing, still getting harder every time he pushes against you. His fat, flared tip narrows to a point, a pearl of precum beading right on top. He changes his angle to smear it into your skin, rubbing his tip back and forth against your sex until you’re both a sticky mess. His hands slip behind you, between your bare backside and Corbin’s clothed erection, groping your ass and kneading the cheeks apart. He gets your thighs open just enough to slip his cock between them, nestled right under your sex. You feel every inch of him when he moves back and forth. His shaft is long and thick, bulging along the bottom. 

You can’t remember when you started holding onto him, when Corbin let your wrists go, but Sawyer growls, “Good,” in a gravelly rumble that sends heat rushing between your legs. The praise startles you, makes your heart race faster. “So good, giving in like this. Your instincts know what to do.” He moves faster, harder. You hear your bodies together, skin to skin, the slap of his balls against your thighs every time your hips meet as if he’s really fucking you, as if you’ve taken him all the way to the base. Your sex throbs. Sawyer pants and grunts and ruts like an animal, needy like he’s been waiting for this all his life. You’re lightheaded with a heady mix of fear, shame and desire. He mouths at your pulse, hungrily lapping at your neck like he can taste how much you want him. 

“God, you’re a natural,” Corbin whispers. He’s still touching you, still humping your ass while Sawyer fucks your thighs. When did he get his pants off? You can feel the metal of his open zipper warming on the back of your legs, his cock sandwiched between your cheeks. “That’s it. Don’t think so much, just feel. Move with him. Just like that, sweetheart. You’re right where you’re supposed to be.”

You feel delirious, dizzy and burning. You’re really doing it, grinding back on a stranger, a werewolf, in the middle of the woods. It feels good to let go. To not worry or think or even decide what happens next, letting him guide you, letting Corbin tell you how perfect you are for it. You arch your back, pushing yourself into Sawyer’s steady thrusts and Corbin’s frantic grinding, hearing them both groan appreciatively. There’s something swollen at the base of Sawyer’s cock, an engorged, sensitive bulge that he loves to shove between your thighs and grind back and forth, shaking his hips so you feel just how big it is, hot and pulsing under your sex. 

“Squeeze your thighs together,” Sawyer says. His voice is low and broken, more growl than human speech. You do what he asks without hesitation. It feels good to trap his knot right under your sex and feel it throb against you. It feels even better when he hisses “yes, fuck, yes!” and ruts mindlessly, short jackhammering thrusts into the tight warmth of your thighs. “Good, so good. Sweet bunny,” he moans. He buries his face in your neck again, alternating between deep breaths and sloppy kisses with his sharp teeth threatening to break the skin. He says more but you can’t understand him with it all slurred and muffled, sounding like another language entirely.

“Fuck!” Corbin wraps his arms around you when he cums, clutching your waist. He presses against you everywhere he can reach, his chest to your back, his cheek against your shoulder, humping like a rabbit in heat. He babbles and whimpers as his thrusts go from fast and hard to long and trembling, cum splattering your hips and ass and dampening your shirt. “You’re so good, so sweet, want you again, wanna see you on alpha’s knot…” He’s determined to take you over the edge with him, groping and grabbing at you even while he’s still trembling and catching his breath. He nuzzles into your neck on the opposite side from Sawyer, kissing and licking, nipping the lobe of your ear. “You want that? You wanna get stretched on a werewolf knot? There’s nothing else like it. You’d be so fucking full. And our beta’s so big, he’d get nice and deep. You’d be stuffed…” He rubs your stomach. “All the way up to here,” he whispers.

Sawyer swivels his hips again, grinds his knot against your sex one more time, and that’s all it takes. You’re grateful when he surges forward and crushes your lips together, swallowing the embarrassingly loud sounds you make as you buck your hips and ride out your orgasm. You cling to him like you’re drowning, arms around his neck and moaning helplessly into his mouth. His claws dig into your ass and you wonder what this would feel like if those hard, grinding thrusts were inside of you instead, if his length was dragging on your inner walls and his tip was hammering your sweet spot, his knot popping into place. The heat and the friction build to maddening overstimulation and you’re whimpering, begging wordlessly for mercy. His tongue strokes yours and you’re drooling, slack-jawed and fucked senseless from nothing but this frantic, animalistic humping and Corbin’s voice in your ear. 

“You’re so cute,” he purrs. “It’s like you already know how to submit. Not so scared now, are you? No, you’re perfect. You’d take a knot so well. Fuck, I knew I was right about you.”

You don’t know when Sawyer cums. You don’t know much of anything but heat and sensation, pleasant friction and painful chafing, Sawyer’s tongue and teeth and claws. Eventually, his knot shrinks. His cock slips out from between your legs and you’re lowered gently to the forest floor, held between two spent, sweaty bodies. You feel sticky and disgusting. Someone strokes your hair and someone squeezes your hip and you aren’t sure who’s doing what, just that they’re there with you.

“Really wish you’d warned me first.” You can feel the vibration of Sawyer’s voice against your skin, a deep rumble. 

“If I did that, you’d just run and hide,” Corbin says quietly. One of them kisses the top of your head. “You and Linden have that in common.”

“Watch yourself, hrefn.” The words are playful. They shift around you. You hear a kiss exchanged, a soft sigh. “Are we bringing them up now?” 

“No. Gonna do it properly, next time. This was just a test. I had to make sure.” 

“Next time?” Sawyer asks, concerned. “I’m not the human expert, but…” 

“Well, I am. So trust me.” Corbin reacts immediately when you start squirming, trying to sit up. He helps you, steadying your shoulders. “Hey,” he coos. “Welcome back. Feeling alright?” 

You don’t say anything. The reality of what you just did—of what just happened to you—creeps in slowly. He tricked you. Pressured you into this. Kept pushing even when you didn’t want to, even when you were terrified. You tug your pants back on, wincing at all the cum sticking to your skin. Sawyer tries to touch your shoulder and you flinch, leaning away from him. His fingers twitch like he thinks of grabbing you, forcing you to show him your neck again, but he never does. He lowers his hand slowly and you let out a shaky breath. You only let Corbin pull you to your feet because your legs are shaking too badly to stand up alone. 

“Let’s get you back to your car,” he says sweetly. Like he didn’t just lure you into the woods to trap you between him and a werewolf. “I’ll be back in a bit, just gonna walk them down the trail.” 

“Mhm.” You don’t look at Sawyer but you feel him staring. His gaze burns into your back when you stumble away, clinging reluctantly to Corbin. You look back just once to make sure he doesn’t follow you. The trail is empty. There’s only trees and bushes and fallen leaves. Somehow, you still feel like you’re being watched all the way to the parking lot. 

“It was so nice to see you—”

You slam the door in Corbin’s face. He just smiles, stepping back as you hurriedly shove your keys in the ignition. You need to get out of here. Need a shower, need the safety of your home, need to throw a few things in a bag and find somewhere else to stay for a while. Corbin is still standing there at the start of the trail when you start driving. He waves at your rearview mirror and then he walks away. Not into the parking lot, but back up the trail. Into the woods and up the mountain. When he’s gone, all that’s left is the trail kiosk standing sentinel, casting its shadow across the trail.

WOLVES IN THESE WOODS, it says.

[unholyhelbig]

werewolf kate RAH i love your fics

Title: What? I've Seen Twilight [A Once Bitten, Twice the Idiot Oneshot]

Summary: It's been six years since reader has been out on her own, but now that she and Kate have an apartment in the city together, the last thing they're expecting is old company.

Trigger warnings: Sadness, angst, burns (Physical), general emotional distress, therapy,very brief mentions of assult, and spelling mistakes.

A/n: I went a little wild with this one. It's way longer than I intended, but jesus, did I have fun.

Read the Full Series:

[Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six, Part Seven]

Kate Bishop’s height advantage killed most situations. She could ride every rollercoaster, and one could spot her in a crowd of people as they bustled in and out of the New York Subway system. She could easily lead you, just the same, her large hand engulfing yours and making sure that you’d be able to stick together.

Kate hated her height sometimes. When she was a child, she was approached by her high school gym teacher that begged her to be on the basketball team. She was lanky and awkward, sitting on a whisp of a bench.

She’d wanted to join the team, but her father was vehemently against sports. He said that it worked her up too much and she’d be a danger to society if her adrenaline became too high for her to manage, as it often was. It was just one of those rules that were accompanied by breathing exercises and the occasional sedative.

You’d never made Kate feel an aversion to her height, in fact, you utilized it to your advantage. You’d curl up in her arms, slotted against her body. Her height could nearly swallow you whole. It was no trouble for you to ask for her to reach for certain things that were out of your grasp.

She had a horrible advantage when it came to hanging things, however. Everything was crooked, including the painting she was frustratingly trying to level over a crisping water stain. She’d worked up a sweat, blowing strands that had fallen from her ponytail from her face.

You came up behind her, wrapping your arms around her toned stomach. You were too short to rest your chin on her shoulder, so you settled for nuzzling into her back instead, breathing in the lemon scent of her. Kate let a smile spread across her face, sighing into your warmth. “Remind me why we decided to move out of the compound again?”

“Because we’re engaged and wanted some form of privacy.” You mumbled into her spine.

She beamed and turned in your arms. You much preferred this side of her. You were able to tuck your head under her chin. The painting took a hard left and slid into a diamond shape on the wall. A rumbling growl moved through her chest, vibrating against your ear.

“Was that your stomach or your frustration?”

“I think maybe it was both. Where’d you put the takeout menus?”

“Drawer by the fridge, we can’t make a habit of ordering out though.”

Kate detached herself from you and crossed the mostly bare living room to the kitchen. She rifled through them until she found her prize, a menu from the Tex-Mex place that had opened up down the street. They had massive portions, and that always worked in both your favors with the appetites you carried.

“We’re not going to make a habit. I just think we deserve a little treat after moving everything up six flights of stairs. Don’t you?”

The motivation to cook had left your body between floor three and four. You were determined to prove to Steve and Natasha that you were both more than capable of being on your own. It took months of convincing, and you’d even considered making a power point to demonstrate how responsible you’d be.

It didn’t’ come to that, just a promise (and then a pinky-swear) that the two of you would return back to the compound the week of the full moon. It was an easy compromise. In fact, it even made you feel safer. There was infinite space, and it was the only place you’d ever gone through a transition. Dozens, at this point, possibly hundreds.

“Fine, just this once, and only if you get extra nachos.”

“Okay, bossy. You can brave the copious number of stairs and pick up the order, then.”

That seemed like a fair enough deal. You dawned your coat, the sound of thunder a few miles away having reached your ears. Most things, you’d learned to tune out; the sound of traffic, voices from the multiple families that lived around you. But you would actively seek thunder, enjoying the rain and the dryness you could secure.

Kate pressed a kiss to your cheek, giving your arm a squeeze, a silent plea to be careful. You always were, both at the compound and here during your trips to the city. The apartment building the both of you had rented from was far from swanky. The hallways were lined with polished wood and a fresh paint-job made it look semi-presentable.

It was the quintessential first apartment experience that you’d been craving. It made you feel normal. Living here with your fiancé. A small smile worked its way onto your lips. This was a big step, possibly the biggest you’d taken since you’d followed Kate to the compound in the first place. To your family.

You shoved your hands in your pockets as you walked down the hallway, nearly brushing shoulders with a woman who had her head turned down, struggling to find her keys. She grunted, struggling to keep a paper bag filled with produce righted.

“Jesus Christ,” her muted growl alerted you more.

Not even a full day in the city and you decided to break one of Natasha’s rules. Don’t involve yourself. Which you thought was overkill. She became strict in that way, the insinuation that you shouldn’t talk to strangers on the tip of her tongue. But you weren’t moving here to be a recluse. A simple favor wasn’t going to hurt anyone.

“Here,” you scooped the bag gently from her hands, saving a particularly ripe orange “Let me help you with that.”

“Oh, thank you. I know that paper bags are great for the environment, but they turn to mush when it rains. It makes everything ten times harder.”

Her words died in her throat when her eyes met yours. You took a defensive step back, your mouth suddenly dry and muddy. Those eyes. You cursed yourself for not knowing sooner. She’d straightened her hair, wore a suit that was wrinkled from almost an hour of transit.

She looked older, tired around the eyes. It had been six years.

MJ was at a loss for words, just as you were. Her groceries were still in your hand, the bag finally giving way and spilling oranges, apples, and two soft peaches onto the floor. Neither of you made a move to gather them.

“Let me help you pick these up.”

“I think you’ve done enough.”

The two of you remained frozen. You’d moved in three doors down from someone you’d shared your first three years of college with. The last you’d seen her, she’d been wolfing down mac and cheese, looking queasy as you’d left your key on the coffee table.

A crack of thunder snapped you both out of your staring match. Kate could hear you, you knew she could. It wasn’t that she pried but she did keep an ear out for the cadence of your voice. You didn’t want to worry her, and you certainly didn’t want MJ to see her. Not yet, maybe not ever.

“I don’t have anything to say to you,” She turned away and struggled to stick her key in the lock. Her hands were trembling. She worried her lip between her teeth, a nervous habit that reminded you of when she held her tongue. She often failed.

“Okay, alright.” You threw your hands up in an act of surrender, scooting past her, careful to avoid the fallen fruit. “I’m sorry… about your groceries.”

You made it three more steps before her voice rang out again.

“About my groceries?” Her voice was harsh, you winced, stopping in your tracks. “You’re apologizing for ruined produce after what you did?”

At this, you turned, a small bit of anger in your stare. Maybe Natasha was right, as she usually always is. You should just keep your nose down, stay away from other people at least while you got settled. You’d been plunged into ice water, the realization that this city may be gigantic, but so incredibly small.

MJ closed the distance between you, her breath hot on your collarbone. It was startling, but your wolf reacted as it typically did, without fear and with a heir of competition. It figured you threatened, your nails curling into your palm hard enough to draw blood.

“You know, the police didn’t take us seriously. We went to them a week after you left, and they wouldn’t let us file a missing persons report because you left willingly. America, god, she wasn’t convinced. She spent months putting up posters around campus, at train stations. And people called, but not about you. Just to be needlessly cruel.”

The sting of her words made you tremble, your eyes downcast and your hands shoved back in your pocket. Each breath you took felt like needles being shoved forcefully into your throat and twisted until it touched your esophagus. You were going to vomit.  

“One second you were there, and the next you were gone, y/n. We never stopped searching. Anyone who looked like you, smelled like you… just reminded us that you’d run off with some stranger after being an absolute psycho for the week. I mean, for fucks sake! Your mother was devastated!”

“My mother?” Your eyes finally found purchase in her own.

“Yeah,” MJ breathed out, shoulders slumping. “Or did you forget her as well?”

“I didn’t…” You took a step back. Tears threatened to spill over, so you averted your stare back to the ground, quickly wiping them away with your fingers. “I could never forget about any of you. I left to protect you.”

“From what?” She’d gotten quieter, her voice breaking. She looked like she wanted to reach out and embrace you, but stopped herself. “Because America is going to be here any minute, and god help me, y/n, if you don’t have a better answer than that, you can’t let her see you. You can’t put her through that again.”

You took another step towards your apartment. You’d lost your appetite, your sureness in each step that you took. There was a roiling pit in your stomach that threatened to make your breakfast reappear. MJ watched you for a few moments. You were retreating again, and the sadness in her eyes cut into you like a finely sharpened knife.

She let out another breath and knelt down to collect the fruit that had splayed across the floor. She averted her gaze and you let her. There was no explanation that you could muster up without risking everything you’d worked so hard for, every moment of pain that ripped through you once a month. Years spent learning control.

The anxiety had fully built up in your chest by the time you made it the two doors down to your apartment. You shut it as softly as you could, pressing your back against the wooden door slathered in a deep forest green that reminded you of home. Your home.

The two of you had fought so diligently to get out of the compound and now all you wanted to do was retreat back into solitude, away from the world and the people you had wronged long ago. They were easy to push to the back of your mind when you didn’t see them every single day.

Of course, you never forgot them, you couldn’t. But there was a clear separation between your life before that night in the woods, and your life after. You had long ago admitted that you much preferred this one. Even if you did have dreams of finding your mother when you had the chance. Finding America and MJ. This was certainly not on your terms.

Kate was in front of you instantly, cupping both your cheeks and running her thumbs over the dampness. She didn’t’ say a word, and you were suddenly thankful for her inhuman hearing capabilities. You wouldn’t be able to explain, to tell her what made your throat so incredibly tight with grief.

Her height made it easy to tuck yourself against her, quivering as you cries were muffled against your chest. She radiated a warmth that calmed you like no other. Part of your nature, the connection the two of you carried. She could take your pain away, just as you could do the same. It evened your rapid breaths, her hand cupping your head.

She shocked you, her voice a low whisper. “I think you should tell them the truth.”

“What?”

Your voice was nasally and marred with snot. Kate gave you a sympathetic smile, moving her hand through your hair. She’d seen you at your absolute worst, and you weren’t exactly a beautiful crier. Her statement was jarring enough, though disarming.

“All those years ago, I told you that you’d be able to come back once you gained control of your wolf. And you’ve done that, you put in the work, you’ve embraced what we are. The reason for going to the compound in the first place was to protect the ones you love, and you can still do that.”

She dipped her head and your forehead pressed against hers. You stared into her startlingly blue eyes. They were genuine and so full of love.

“I mean it, sweetie. They deserve answers, I think we both know that.”

“Yeah… they do.”

It was easy enough to slip a note under MJ’s door. You figured she went to work early and returned late. There was a solid window of time for you to act. The letter contained your phone number, and an offer to talk, if she was willing.

It took three agonizing days of pacing the small length of the apartment, painting and repainting the bathroom, and busying yourself with little tasks. Kate had mastered hanging artwork and the two of you had finally made a trip to the grocery store instead of ordering from pizza places and diners that did take-out.

Kate was laying on her back on the second-hand sofa that the two of you had purchased and dragged up the stairs with little to no difficulty. She was skimming through a book she had to read for one of her classes, and the slow rhythm of her heartbeat had lulled you into a less than peaceful sleep.

Your cell phone was clenched in one hand, hanging off the side of the couch, full body weight snuggled up close to Kate, a blanket spread across you both. When your phone buzzed you shot up, knocking your forehead against Kate’s chin, she let out a startled grunt.

“Sorry, baby” You soothed your hand over the slowly growing red spot on her skin, simultaneously staring at your phone.

Unknown [3:00pm]: I’ll consent to dinner tonight. America may or may not be there.

Unknown [3:02pm]: 6:00, don’t be late.  

“I thought you said MJ was the nice one.” Kate set her book aside, peering at the messages you had received.

“She is… was. I don’t know anymore.”

Your antsy energy seemed to work in your favor when it came to preparing a dinner that was actually edible. Wanda had been teaching you to cook for the last few years, and it had been a difficult skill for you to pick up. She’d helped you master a dish from her birthplace that had quickly become one of Kate’s favorites.

She leaned against the counter and watched you cook as she always did, stretching up to retrieve the spices that were a little far past your reach. She handed you the paprika, kissing the back of your neck as you placed the chicken in the pan. You worked nervously, and methodically.

Despite Kate’s constant reassurances that they would love it, you weren’t much concerned about the food choices. Of course, you wanted it to be edible. But it could have been pizza all the same. There wouldn’t be much eating, you were sure. Even your appetite had been spoiled.

You panned the chicken onto a plate of rice and left it on the counter for Kate. She glanced down at it with confusion and then back up at you. “I’m not going, am I?”

“Darling, I would love nothing more. But, I’m certain that you being there will exacerbate things.”

Kate frowned, her lip jutting out in a borderline pout. You scoffed, gripping both of her arms. “They don’t know you like I do, Katie. They don’t know you at all.”

“Yeah,” She sighed “I know you’re right. This is just a hard thing to do and I don’t want you to be alone.”

“I’m not alone. You’ll be listening the whole time.

It was a comforting fact, but did nothing to quell the swirling in your stomach when you stood in front of MJ’s door. It was much too late to turn back, though everything in your body screamed at you to do so.

Before you could knock, she opened the door. She dawned an oversized flannel and a t-shirt for a band that you didn’t recognize. Her hair was damp, the scent of mint from her bodywash enveloping you. You’d missed the smell, missed her, but didn’t make a move to advance. She sniffed the air herself, raising an eyebrow. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say she was impressed by the meal you’d shoved in Tupperware.

 “I didn’t think you’d come.”

“I almost didn’t.”

She narrowed her eyes at you but opened the door wider and gestured to the living room vaguely. You took in the deep blue walls, and the multitude of thrifted artwork that made it feel homey as opposed to cluttered. There was a warmth to her apartment that you and Kate hadn’t yet cultivated.

In a midcentury modern chair next to a large record player, was America. Your grip tightened against the dish, careful not to shatter it, something easily done with your strength. Spilling chicken paprikas all over the carpets would not a good impression make.

America’s rural eyes scanned from your boots to the collar of your shirt, stopping just shy of your own stare. She’d aged, but it was less noticeable through her fierce scowl. A black t-shirt hugged her frame, her hair curly and flowing across her shoulders. Tattoos stretched evenly over her biceps and forearms, ones you didn’t’ dare move to get a better look at.

She stood, setting her glass of wine down on the coffee table. MJ worked the Tupperware from your hands. She moved silently towards the kitchen. You could feel the tension in the air. It made your wolf nervous. You swallowed back a whine.

Her eyes flashed in anger. “It really is you. When MJ told me that she’d run into you, I didn’t believe her. I couldn’t, because if you’ve been alive this entire time, and just chose to keep us in a constant hell of wondering, then I’d never be able to forgive you.”

“You have every right to be angry.”

“Maldita derecha, I do!” She shoved you back. You were startled by her strength, but still caught yourself with a small step back.

“Hey, relax. She’s here to explain, right?”

MJ stood behind the kitchen island, her fingers drumming on the countertop. Maybe she’d been given a chance to cool off, though there was still trepidation in her stare. You let out a small breath, throat suddenly tight.

“What?” America shoved your shoulder again, you could smell the alcohol in her breath “Does this bother you? Are you going to tuck your tail and vanish for another six years?”

Again, she pushed you back, this time with more force. You stood strong, letting her show her rage, her hatred towards you. Hell, you hated you in this moment. Your skin prickled, seeing her as a threat. You were sure that Kate, down the hall, was pacing with the same pent-up worry.

MJ urged “Meri, come one, let her be. We’ll eat dinner, and she’ll tell us what happened.”

“And what if we don’t like the answer?” She turned her venomous stare on the other woman. “What if we prefer that she had died and spared us all the pain?”

A brittle silence fell over the room. You were trapped within the walls of the apartment, ears ringing. Even if you could focus your mind hard enough to hear past it’s confinement, you didn’t want to. Your blood was rushing hard enough to create a ringing in your ears.

MJ had dropped the fork she was using to shovel food onto respective plates. America’s shoulders dropped. She opened her mouth and closed it again like a fish deprived of water. Her voice came out in a sand-paper whisper. “I didn’t mean that.”

“No, you did, and that’s okay.”

“It’s not.” MJ had abandoned her task and instead flopped down on one end of the sofa. She moved a throw pillow and gestured for you both to sit. “Both of you, we need to talk about this. It’s defined us for too long and we won’t get anywhere by hurling horrible words at one another.”

Cautiously, America returned back to her chair and you sat stiffly on the other end of the sofa. It would be better for them to both hate you. But, MJ’s usual rationale had kicked in and that scared the hell out of you. You ran your hands over your jeans, trying to find purchase in them.

America’s sharpness was back. “Well?”

“Okay, alright. Just… I need you both to keep an open mind before I get into this. I’ve never had to explain what happened before and, well shit, it’s going to be a lot to take in.”

You pleaded silently with them, flitting your eyes from one to the other. MJ nodded first and eventually America gave you a course gesture that you interpreted as agreeance. You could hear both of their hearts beating, perhaps harder than your own.

“The night before that stupid frat party, I didn’t fall asleep in the library. Something happened.”

“lo sabia.”

“I know you did, which is why I did everything in my power to avoid the both of you until I left. I didn’t know what was happening and the last thing I wanted to do was throw you into something that I couldn’t even begin to understand. I was feeling weird, and overwhelmed. Confused. You’ve always been too good at reading me. You’d both know in an instant that I’d been attacked if I was truthful with you.”

“Attacked?” MJ rasped, “You could have come to us, y/n. I’ve been fighting every single day of my career to make sure that Universities are a safe and forthcoming place. Even with campus police being absolute garbage, we would have found some way to help.”

You looked at her with soft admiration, guilt soaking your voice. “It wasn’t like that. I was walking home from the library and knew that I was being followed. I thought it was a person at first, but it wasn’t. The faster I moved, the faster she did. It didn’t matter how quick I was, is the point. Because it wasn’t a human that attacked me, it was a wolf.”

“A wolf You’re expecting us to sit here and believe that a wolf somehow escaped a zoo and miraculously hunted you down? I’m sorry, baby, but that’s the most bullshit excuse I’ve ever heard.” She laughed humorlessly and moved to stand.

“I told you to keep an open mind.” You pleaded, “I’m begging you, please. Just let me finish. And if you want me to leave after that. If you both want me to leave, then I will. You’ll never hear from me again.”

It would be easy to return to the compound, shield yourself from the world and make sure that neither of them had to live with the turmoil you’d caused all those years ago. You could feel sweat at the back of your neck, mouth dry in comparison.

She leveled you with a skeptical stare but sat back down, this time swiping her wine from the counter. She took a long gulp, the red staining her lips with a pink tint. The quiet urged you forward and your stomach clenched in nausea.

“It had bitten me, right through the shoulder and it was some of the most intense pain that I had ever experienced. I was certain that I was going to die there, alone and no one would find me for weeks, maybe even months. I have never been more terrified.”

Your hand moved up to rub the pulsing scar just below your t-shirt. You could feel the hardened tissue, the indents that Kate’s teeth made before they tore through tendons and ground your bones to a shattered powder.

You pulled the fabric away, shivering from the suddenly cold air against your skin. MJ gasped, closing the gap between the two of you on the sofa. She was gentle, running her own fingers over the scar, the large-mouthed pockmarks that could only be that of an animal.

“Jesus Christ, y/n. Does it still hurt?”

“Not anymore. It just serves a reminder, is all.” America was looking at you in disbelief, her confidence in your falsehood wavering. “When you called the next morning, I was just thankful to wake up, and rushed back to the apartment so I didn’t worry you anymore than I already had.”

“Why didn’t you just tell us?” America asked.

You shook your head “I couldn’t understand what had happened. Just like you, I didn’t think there were wolves in New York. If I was having some type of break due to stress, I didn’t want to drag the two of you down either.”

“You can’t just decide how we’d react to things, y/n. If you had asked for help, explained what had happened, we would have been there for you.”

“I know that… and I was going to tell you both, I was. But by the second day, the bite was just gone. There was no evidence that anything had happened, and I was starting to doubt myself. At least I was, until Kate.”

That fury returned to America’s eyes. If you didn’t’ clock it in her stare, you would have in the way she smelled. The metallic edge overtook any other scent in the room, including the boisterous spices on the Paprikash. “Oh? Is that her name? I figured we were chasing a ghost for all those years.”

“We know who she is. Your mother… she was insistent that your father hire a private investigator. She knew that your behavior was out of the ordinary, but he wasn’t convinced, so she fought him tooth and nail. They had a name, and a last known address. But that was it. Her trail went cold too. It was like the two of you just vanished into thin air.”

Your heart seized at the admission, but you swallowed it back, locked it away for something to deal with later. It was one person at a time, and your mother was untouchable, something you refused to acknowledge until you were standing on her doorstep with your apologies and your broken sobs.

You cleared your throat, making a point to shove your hand with the simple golden band on it into your pocket. That was another conversation you weren’t willing to have at this point.

“Right, yes. Kate. She’s helped me tremendously over the years.” You drew in a breath, bracing yourself for the next statement. “In fact, she caused it.”

“She… caused it? Please, y/n. I may not like the girl but what you’re insinuating…”

“You’re saying she’s the one that bit you?” MJ let out a nervous chuckle “That, or unlatched the cage at the zoo.”

Another silence fell over the room. You gave them a nervous smile. God- this was absolutely harder than you expected. They didn’t’ say anything, they just stared at you blankly, and then at each other. Then, it was back to you. There was something akin to pity in their stares that you didn’t appreciate.

They thought you were insane and suddenly, it was like the glass coffee table had shattered and they were afraid that if they stepped too hard, it would cut the soles of their feet. MJ even reached her hand out and placed it on your knee. You shivered at the touch.

“Listen, I know neither of you believe me, but it’s why I had to leave.” Your voice broke. “I was so afraid that I was going to hurt you. I-I mean what if I lost control? Back then, I didn’t have a handle on any of this, so I went to a place that was safe. A place that taught me how to control it.”

“It being… Lycanthropy?” America stood up now, started pacing from the edge of her chair to the front door and then back again. “You know, we worked a case ages ago and the fifteen-year-old son of a wealthy couple believed that he was a werewolf.”

“Meri, please. Don’t psychoanalyze her.”

“Shouldn’t we? Y/n, this is an actual thing. It’s called Lycomania. It’s a form of psychosis, and with the right medications, the right therapies-“

“It’s not psychosis!” You stood from the couch, suddenly feeling frantic, like a caged animal. She was a social worker, or at least, that’s what she was studying to be. From her wording, you figured she’d gotten there just fine. “I’m not making any of this up.”

“It’s a little hard to believe, is all.”

MJ had reached up from the couch and took your hand, soothed it over your knuckles. It was like a horrible game of good cop, bad cop, and you wanted no part of it. You knew that there would be some disbelief, but the way America’s fingers inched towards her cell phone worried you.

“It’s a lot to take in, I know. It’s impossible to believe, but you both deserve the truth. I need you to believe me.”

“I believe that you believe.” America said softly, “Please, y/n/n, just come get checked out with us. If you’re a… werewolf, then what’s the harm?”

You took a deep breath, glancing down at MJ who hugged a throw pillow flush against her chest. She was pleading with her stare, begging you to agree. And America, God, she looked like she was about to bolt or throttle you. But there was a kindness behind her eyes that you missed dearly.

“This was a mistake. Look, I just wanted to come here and apologize for everything I put you through. I want you to know that I mean it, and you both are very important to me.” You took a step towards the door, rolling your eyes when America stepped in front of it, crossing her arms over her chest. “Seriously?”

“Prove it.”

“What?”

“If you’re a werewolf, and this isn’t some type of mental break, then prove it. Show us what you’ve got.”

A dry laugh escaped you, one of disbelief. You glanced back at MJ, she looked nervous, but didn’t’ object to the demand. You’d grown so used to living in a home with ten other people who never doubted what you were, because they were the exact same.

Your ‘wolfy’ attributes were mostly limited to the night of the full moon. By all accounts, you were normal the rest of the month, and things that weren’t normal often were disguisable. Sometimes, if you roughhoused with Peter or even Clint, your eyes would catch the color of the sunset, glowing in response to their own. But there were no sudden outbursts of sharpened teeth and extended claws- not anymore. You’d fought so hard to contain it.

If you let the curtain slip, even this once, would you be able to get it back up? It was another two weeks until the next full moon, and by then, you were sure they’d grow tired of waiting for you to prove yourself.

With a groan, you walked over to the kitchen. MJ practically threw herself over the back of the couch as you started to rummage through drawers, not finding anything but plastic forks, and a butter knife that certainly wouldn’t do the trick. “Jesus dude, this is not cutlery.”

“I’m not home often,”

You turned the closest knob on the stove and watched as the electric cooktop started to glow an angry red. This was going to fucking suck. Just because you could heal, didn’t mean you enjoyed utilizing the perk. It came in handy when you’d broken two fingers sparring with Natasha, and again when Tony had taken you on a long-winded hike and you’d lost your footing.  Both still held the same amount of pain that was expected.

With a deep breath you splayed your hand on the burner before MJ or America could object. They both made distressed noises in the back of their throat, the sound of your skin against the intense heat sizzled with a popping fierceness.

“What the fuck!” America clawed at your wrist, struggling to pull your hand away. With your strength, she didn’t’ get it to budge “Y/n, stop!”

When you were satisfied enough with the heat eating away at your skin, you released your hold. Your palm was angry, already blistering. Some spots bloomed a darker red, wounds close to the base of your ring finger where the gold band had heated up enough to cause some stinging damage.

“Oh my god, I’m going to vomit.” MJ moved her forearm over her mouth, swallowing heavily. “I’m calling an ambulance. Do we run it under cold water?”

“Relax, just watch.”

“Relax! You want me to relax?”

Her jaw snapped shut, head lilting to the side. America still gripped your wrist, watching as the redness quickly faded away to the smoothness of your palm. The blisters seemed to vanish, and the bleeding split by the edge of your ring sealed back together. You could still feel your hand throbbing, but flexed your fingers to prove your point.  

“You wanted me to prove it, and I didn’t much feel like ripping your throw pillows to shreds.” You snatched your hand back from America, twisted the ring around in a nervous habit. “Can we take the psyche unit off speed dial, please?”

“No, no, keep it up for me.” MJ leaned her back against the island, trying to steady herself. “That just… your hand was… did you see that?”

America whispered, her stare suddenly fuzzy. “Yeah, I saw it.”

You flicked the stove off and crossed your arms over her chest, letting them take a few moments to relish the quiet. You were feeling a bit too self-satisfied considering the circumstances, but enjoyed the fact that you had stunned them into silence.

“So, you left with this Kate chick because she turned you into a werewolf and then you’ve what? Been hiding these last six years? It’s hard to vanish in the 21st century. Nearly impossible.” America said, voice quivering.

“I went to a place where there were others like me. They taught me how to live with this, how to control it. They’re my family.”

“Your pack?” MJ asked. “What? I’ve seen Twilight!”

You laughed “Yeah, my pack. Kate included.”

“no confío en ella.” America growled.

You let out a sigh of relief. You’d take it. For now, you’d take it. The tension in the apartment had lowered a few notches, enough for your stomach to clench in hunger. It made an audible growl. You hadn’t been able to eat for the last few days, worry enveloping you.

America pulled her jacket from the back of the sofa. “You two eat. I’ve got a few case files I have to finish. Y/n, it was good to see you. I hope… take care of yourself. Okay?”

“Okay,” The word came out as a breathless whisper. Even if your objections weren’t trapped in the netting of your throat, you wouldn’t’ have had a chance to say them. She was slamming the door behind her, shaking the photos on the wall.

“She’ll come around,” MJ squeezed your shoulder, giving you a wavering smile before she started to divide the food with her plastic fork. “In the meantime, I have so many questions.”

[under-cotton-and-calicos]

Heavy Rain

Male Werewolf x AFAB reader

tags: oral sex, vaginal penetration, knotting, breeding, non-human genitalia, fluff, wholesome!

word count: 6.5k

You wiped a drop of sweat off of your forehead and sighed as you completed the last reinforcement spell on the apothecary's arched windows. They brightened the dark room with a  green glow for a few moments before dissipating as you withdrew your hand, a sign that they would be working.

 Based on the skywatcher’s reports, an exceptionally strong hurricane would be sweeping the land in a few hours. You were already well aware- the swell of waves when you traversed the shoreside and the gusts of wind that tore your linen sheets from their pegs led you to close shop. For a few days, you had been busy reinforcing the villagers’ homes, and you had made it in time to fortify your own. 

The sound of rain beating down on your rooftop and the howling winds was a bit of a comfort to you in your secure abode. Yes, you were alone, but with everyone locked within their own homes you felt a strange sense of serenity in the empty shop. It was always so busy and loud with human chatter, you could use this break from the bustle.

Just as you began lighting the candles around the house, a muffled thump and whine from outside shattered your moment of tranquillity. With a start, you bolted to the door and swung it open, half expecting a village dog that someone had forgotten to bring in before the storm.

“Amet!” You cried out in shock, the man lay on the cobblestone path towards your house. What was he doing here right before a godsdamned hurricane? You nearly slipped as you raced down to him, bare feet pounding on the stone beneath you. He gazed at you in a dazed manner, blinking past fat droplets of rain. As you bent down and pulled his arm over your shoulder, his body tensed for just a moment. He must have hurt himself falling.

It was no easy feat pulling the larger man to his feet and dragging him into your house. By the time you had both passed the threshold, you were just as soaked as him, shivering and swearing obscenities under your breath. Fortunately, he had just enough strength to stumble and slump gracelessly onto one of your wooden chairs on his own. Gasping for air, you had half the mind to slam shut and bolt the door, the green light from the enchantment flashing for a second and illuminating the wet streaks of hair pasted to Amet’s face like fresh black paint.

“Why, what is…I mean-” You could barely summon the proper decorum, much less form the right words to the man. Taking a deep breath, you shuffled together a list of priorities in your head. Right, you had a man in wet clothing dripping rainwater all over your rug. You’d have to outfit him with something dry, give him a warm drink, and clean up the puddles both of you were dripping onto the floor.

You managed to find some larger articles of clothing that you kept reserved for wandering travellers. Occasionally, adventurers would get injured and you would care for them, not unlike Amet’s situation at that moment. Handing over the clothes and a towel, you left him to undress and change while you busied yourself with the kettle and a pot of soup one of the villagers had given you as thanks for your help. After changing yourself and setting your mops to work, you settled down with Amet at the long wooden counter of your apothecary which stood in front of your shelves of instruments and materials. 

His hands shook when he tried to lift the spoon, so you fed him, blowing on the hot soup and lifting it to his lips. His tired face managed to muster an abashed expression but he nodded to express his gratitude. 

“Your hair is still wet.” You noted aloud, picking up a towel and carting it through his long locks. Amet’s head bobbed listlessly as you tousled his hair, a low, exasperated grunt from him made you giggle.

You didn’t know much about the man. He had moved into a cottage a ways away from the other folk just like you, but on the opposite side of the village a few months prior. You had seen him working odd jobs here and there, sometimes at the carpenters and other times travelling out to sea to fish. What you did know for certain was that he spent most of his free time in the orphanage as he dropped by your apothecary often to procure salves and medication for the children. Occasionally, he would bring them along to visit and it warmed your heart to see them cheerful and raucous, filling the shop with laughter.

After some rest, Amet regained some of his vitality.

“Thank you.” His voice was hoarse and he still moved sluggishly.

“It’s no problem. Would you mind explaining what urgent matter led you to my doorstep in such unfavourable weather?” You pulled the blanket wrapped around your shoulders a little more tightly. The chill still hadn’t left your skin. He hesitated for a moment, mouth forming a thin line until he broke the silence.

“This isn’t something I share with many. Given that you’re the pharmacist of this village, I have no choice but to tell you-” He loosened the blanket around his shoulders, exposing a mark on his deltoid that was barely perceptible under the flickering candlelight.

“That is-”

“The mark of my tribe, yes. And I’m sure you are wise enough to know what that entails.” 

Werebeast. Amet was one of them. Which would mean his dire circumstances… 

“The Lunar Mother’s power will soon peak, amplifying the storm and signalling the coming of your transformation. I’m assuming you’ve come for a potion to suppress it?” 

“Right. The ones I had on-hand have run out, and I have been delaying…that’s why I’m here at such poor timing.” He sighed, fingers absentmindedly scratching the stubble on his chin. “Sometimes I’d ride it out. I am not sure how much you know about my kind but we do maintain self-control, unlike what those fairy tales would have you believe.”

You nodded. By and large, werebeasts had several negative stereotypes attached to them. While larger towns and capitals that had seen a fair stream of them had a better grasp of their true nature, smaller villages like yours tended to hold onto prejudices quite fiercely. Of course, with your time spent travelling you knew better.

“Like I said, I could get by even without the potion but I’d need to hunt, and well...” As if to punctuate his point, a flash of lightning lit up the room for just a second before a deafening rumble of thunder sent vibrations through your rafters. “I came here as soon as I heard that a hurricane was coming this way.”

“But that was days ago! You mean to tell me that you have been camping outside?” You couldn’t control your shock, voice pitching a tone higher than you intended. You must have missed him just as you left for the village!

“Yes. I took cover from the rain in your shed. The fruits in your garden taste good, by the way.” Amet smiled sheepishly, rubbing his forearm and ducking his head down. You gaped at him, mouth open but unable to form any words.

“I overestimated myself. It was cold, and I got really hungry. Forgive me. I’ll compensate you, just please.” His green eyes met yours, an earnest and vulnerable expression of supplication. You sighed, disbelief dissipating at his plea.

“There is nothing to forgive, Amet.” You stood, moving around the countertop to pick out the herbs and distillator. He watched in silence as you measured, ground, boiled and mixed, the sounds of clinking glass and the mortar and pestle filling the gap of a conversation between the two of you. Despite his best efforts trying to focus on tracking your movements through blurry eyes, he dozed off, breathing lightly.

“Amet. Amet.” You called out to him softly, “Come on, wake up.”

After a few failed attempts, you blew lightly on his face, hoping that it would wake him without being startling. Nothing. As gingerly as possible, you brushed the back of your hand against his cheek. What you did not expect was for him to lean into your touch, eyes sliding open and blinking blearily.

“It is ready.” You could feel your heart thrumming in your chest and quickly pulled away, lifting the cup to his lips. You tipped it as he drank, his Adam's apple bobbing with each deep swallow until it had been drained. With a grimace, he licked his lips.

“Never gets easier.” Amet took both your hands into his, raising them to his forehead as he bowed. “I am in your debt. Once again, forgive me for intruding on your home. I will return once the storm ends with your payment.”

You frowned. Return?

“Out of the question. You are not even strong enough to stand, what makes you think that you can survive the trek home?”

“But you must understand that there would be complications if I were to stay…” His voice trailed off.

“I have a room for guests and plenty of stores to sustain the both of us,” your tone softens. He was clearly exhausted and you could empathise with him feeling beholden to you, however, you were resolute, “and I would hate to drag you back here if you were to collapse again. Please stay, Amet.”

At that, he quietened. You could see how he rifled between all options and quips to throw back at you, but he knew that you were right.

“...or does the notion of staying alone with the village witch disturb you so?”

“Never!” His reaction was immediate and stronger than what you would have expected in response to your jest. He struggled to summon the right words, shifting in his seat until he realised that you were smiling, the dark skin of his cheeks deepening with a red hue.

“Y-You sounded angry when you helped me in. And I don’t believe I’m the best company around to weather the storm with…”

“Well, you were heavy,” his cheeks and ears turned crimson “and I was expressing my exertion, not my displeasure at having you here. Be at ease, isolation has its perks but a companion would definitely make this experience more tolerable.”

Amet huffed and as he placed his hands back onto his lap you realised that he had been holding yours the entire time. With a pout, he nodded and shakily stood, grasping the counter and the chair for support. It was always a surprise seeing him at his full height, you noted that  he had a tendency to slouch, and at such close proximity he towered over you. After guiding him up the stairs and settling him into the guest room, you made for your own, tucking yourself in and letting your bone-weary body sink into the numerous cushions. 

By then, the storm wall had hit with full force. You could hear the battering of stones against the windows and roof, the gusts of winds strong enough to uproot great trees from the ground, and yet your home stood strong. Just as you began to think about how you would recoup the damages to your garden, beckoning sleep overtook your senses, pulling you into a comforting and warm slumber.

---

Judging by the strength of the hurricane and its unusual potency, it was likely that you would be stuck indoors for at least a week. By the second day, Amet was capable of walking unassisted, albeit a little slowly. 

You sat with him at your kitchen table, engrossed in your reading until you looked up and noticed him staring at you.

“Feeling unwell?”

“No, just bored.” He traced circles on the rim of his cup, leg bouncing under the table.

“Hah. Well…are you not a fan of reading?”

“I used to enjoy some of the epics when I was a boy but they were all read aloud to me by an elder. Never could get a grasp on how to read.”

You had met some individuals who had difficulty deciphering text during your time in the academy. Typically, they specialised in the arts, though others were able to have an easier time with an assistant. It sparked an idea in your head.

“I could read to you, if you wish. I am a fan of fantasy myself…”

At that, Amet visibly perked up. His ill-concealed delight made a smile grow on your face. After breakfast, you sat with him on your couch piled beneath layers of throw blankets. You had just started the Tales of the Hyacinth Prince but your voice quickly grew tired reading loudly to him. You shifted closer to him and you felt him stiffen beside you.

“Am I too close? I thought that you might be unable to hear me over the rain.”

“N-no. I am fine. Please continue.” 

A schedule formed naturally between the two of you. You woke early, cleaning wax from surfaces and lighting fresh candles and oil lamps. Since you had no customers and no changes in stock or finances to account for, you passed the time reading academic papers you had left neglected and checking on the fortifications scattered throughout the house.

Following the pendulum clock mounted on the wall, Amet would rise two hours after you. Without fail, he would greet you, wherever you were in the house before getting started on breakfast. He was a good cook, making the most of what limited ingredients you had at hand. Then, you would continue reading with him until lunch, which consisted of leftovers. 

Occasionally, you would play cards or dice as you fancied. Dull activities on the surface, but Amet’s company set you at ease. The man had an earnest and comforting aura and you never felt the need to try your hardest to entertain him- perhaps it was what drew the children to him as well.

By the sixth day, it was palpable that Amet was skirting around the topic of his background as you chatted. You were aware that werebeasts had the tendency to form packs- it was their greatest distinction from human culture. During mating season, the sires would acquire one mate or more, and leave when the season was over with the resulting children being raised within those packs. The thought was a little scandalous in your mind, but you wondered if Amet had participated in those cycles before leaving his tribe. And what made him leave at all?

Even though you were curious, you didn’t mind that he was disinclined to tell you. You had your fair share of bitter experiences, everyone did. Nevertheless, it was an itch you had to tamper down. As you continued Tales of the Hyacinth Prince and narrated the titular character striking down a brigand with bravado, Amet asked:

“Do you have any stories like that? While you were an adventurer?”

You hummed, wedging your thumb between the pages and closing the book.

"While I mainly took part in research expeditions, we did end up helping a few unfortunate souls along the way. My favourite mishap was when we were swallowed by a whale."

You glanced over at Amet, smug at the sparkle in his eyes and mouth hanging agape. That particular tale never failed to bedazzle the children…Amet included you supposed.

"It's a long, long story. Either way, we ended up in its belly, and I asked nicely for us to be let out."

Lifting your free hand into the air, you summoned her, and in a rush of familiar delight she popped into existence. A shimmering blue humpback whale the size of your palm dancing in the dim room, skirts of translucent waves crashing into nothingness, sprays of water sparkling and fizzing away. 

"A little while after, I summoned my very first familiar. Isn't she gorgeous?" 

"Wow…" Amet's hand reached forward, and your familiar swam towards him, breaching and flowing over his palm in a perfect arc before crashing back into unseen depths. Satisfied, you pulled her back.

"It sounds like you had a lot of fun."

"I did. But my adventuring days are over, I'm content dispensing medication and running stray errands here and there."

"Why?" Amet turned to you, his pretty eyes meeting yours. "Why did you stop?"

"I think…that there were certain expectations that piled up the longer I stayed and the higher I climbed. It was honourable and respectable work," You stared into the flickering candlelight, allowing its hypnotic dance to capture your gaze and hold you, "ultimately, it was…too much. I was so burdened, and while my colleagues seemed to thrive under it all I felt a little trapped." 

For a beat, you remained silent, heart heavy with memories.

"Ah, I'm sorry. I've made things dour, haven't I?" 

"No, not at all." A comforting hand laid itself on your shoulder, albeit a little hesitant and awkward. "I can only imagine how hard it was for you to be in that position…I have no words."

"None are necessary." Your mouth had widened into a grin. Before you could open the book in your lap once again, Amet's voice caught your attention.

"I-I didn't have parents. They died, or they abandoned me, I wouldn't know." He cleared his throat before continuing. "Always felt like a stranger in my tribe so I left. Hopped from place to place until I landed here. It's as though…I have been looking for a home this entire time." 

Blinking, you barely had time to take in the sudden information before Amet's nervous chatter overwhelmed your senses once more.

"Was that rude of me? I didn't mean to sound like I was comparing your troubles with mine. I mean…I'm sorry, I-"

Chuckling, you leaned in until you were tucked against Amet's torso. You were extremely unused to the skinship, and you suspected Amet was too. However, with his arm around you, in that moment it felt so natural to be close to him. It felt good.

"Would you like to continue with the story? I am fine with simply lounging for the rest of the day." You purposefully kept your eyes facing forward, struck by a momentary shyness.

"No…no. This is good- ahem! This is just fine."

---

You were beginning to grow worried. A week had gone and passed by but the rains persisted. Consulting your chart, the full moon when the Mother’s influence peaked was tomorrow. Perhaps once it waned, her power would weaken and the rains would cease?

There was little use in speculating. You sighed and tossed and turned on your bed, settling on your back and staring out to the window. Droplets of rain raced down its panes, collecting on leaves and sticks stuck on its frame. Inevitably, your mind wandered to Amet. He was gentle and sweet though you were unsure if your affections for him had bloomed from proximity.

You couldn’t help it. Your time together had been a little peek into domesticity, as much as you tried to think of it otherwise. On top of it all, a part of you believed that he harboured feelings for you in turn- in the way that he looked at you when he thought you didn’t notice, his lingering touch… 

You groaned into your pillow, beating your fists helplessly into the bedding. Yes, you did enjoy his company. And his soft hair that he always asked you to dry and comb since the first night. And the solidness of his chest under your cheek when you leaned on him to tell him stories. And the size of his hands when he placed them over yours-

Stop! You ground your teeth together, glueing your eyes shut and dispelling all of your thoughts. After a few hours, you fell into a listless sleep, waking the next morning with sore eyes and a fatigued mind.

The day proceeded as it usually did, though Amet noted that he felt out of sorts. Through force of habit, you checked the temperature of his forehead and neck by pressing the back of your palm against them, unable to stop the blood from rushing to your face. His face must have turned as red as yours.

"I-I think it's just the lack of sun getting to me." His voice was a little strained.

After lunch, you leaned against him, reading the Hyacinth Prince yet again. Despite the book's impressive heft, the two of you were approaching the story's end, due in no small part to the hours upon hours you had spent reading it to him.

"Wouldst thee taketh mine own hand? In a showeth of thy faith to thy king?"

The fair, flower prince did press a tend'r kiss to his hand…

Your eyes seemed to close for just a moment, the weighty book in your hands resting on your lap. Curse your lack of sleep. Amet was just so warm and you were full and you were so sleepy…

"Are you tired?"

Half asleep, you nodded, pliant to Amet taking the book from your hands and laying your head gently onto a pillow. Vaguely, you remember him smiling and planting a kiss on your forehead.

You woke up gradually, feeling warm and well-rested. Blinking the remnants of sleep from your eyes, you realised that you had taken a nap on the couch. Where was Amet?

You searched around on the first floor using a lamp to light the way. The kitchen, the pantry, back to the main room where you had fallen asleep. Empty.

As you climbed up the stairs, you noticed that the guest room, Amet's, had its doors shut. Had he taken a nap as well?

The keen sound of a groan and a pitiable whimper jolted you.

“Amet?” You called out to him from behind the door, beating you first against the solid wood. The sounds coming from within the room halted. “I’m coming in.”

The door was unlocked and it swung open, revealing a dark room. You brandished the oil lamp in your hand until the swaying light revealed a lump on the bed. You sighed.

“Amet, if you aren’t feeling well you could have just told-”

“Don’t.” He croaked. As you got closer to the bed you realised that Amet, as tall as he was, wasn’t that large. You flinched at the realisation.

“How…” You were certain that you had prepared the potion correctly, and it would have remained potent for at least one moon cycle. “Amet, I’m sorry, I’ll prepare another one-”

“It is of no use.” His voice had lowered a timbre, as befitting of his larger frame. “Your potion worked. I only turned partially."

“Then why?”

“I…you…” Was that fear you heard in his voice? “I-I have…fallen for you. While I am able to hold onto self-control, I am unable to inhibit my…urges.”

Amet was panting heavily, his partially humanoid form bunched together as he pushed himself as close to the bed frame as possible. He retained the limbs of a man though they had been covered with fur, and his face had transformed as well- ears and a wolfish maw sprouting forth with large canines. The revelation sent a shock through your spine. He had…feelings for you. While it did send your heart fluttering, you were still overwhelmed by the issue at hand.

“Are you…do you mean to say that you lust for me?”

A heart wrenching whine spilled past from his lips. Amet slumped forward, covering his face with his hands- they had sprouted talons. “Forgive me. Forgive me. I-I have offended you haven’t I? Oh, I am so sorry.”

You could bear it no longer. You cast aside the lamp and kneeled at the foot of the bed, hands stretched out to him.

“Please don’t say that, Amet. This is nothing to be ashamed of."

"Y-You are not…?"

“I want to help you. Can I?”

Amet stilled, as if in surprise that you were so receptive.

“Yes… but are you sure? My…my form…” He pulled aside the blanket and his cock sprung free. It was bright pink, a stark contrast to the black fur of his belly, and tapered at the top with bulging veins coursing up its sides. A conspicuous bump lay at its base. Indeed, it was large, and the sight of it sparked a coil of heat in your core.

You crawled onto the bed, sitting in front of Amet, his knees consciously drawing closer to hide himself from you. 

“If it hurts, you must let me know.” You gently brushed your fingers against its tip and he breathed in a sharp hiss of air, his cock twitching at your touch. Tentatively, you wrapped a hand around his length, your fingers did not meet around his thickest part. 

He had built up rivulets of precum leaking to his base so you slowly pumped your fist up and down, gauging Amet's reactions to your movements. Breathe caught in his throat, Amet let out a strangled gasp at your ministrations, hands releasing their grip on the headrest to cover his face. With your free hand, you pulled them away, revealing those green eyes you so loved.

"You musn't cover your face. I want to see." You whispered breathlessly. In a moment of spontaneity, you leaned down, pressing your tongue against his fleshy length and dragging it up until it met his tip. Amet let out a cry, thighs tensing. His hands, finding purchase on the soft bedding tore holes into them as he came, ropes of thick, hot seed shooting onto you. His body was wracked with spasms for a long while, what seemed like years of unspent cum dispensing itself from his cock and covering your face and chest.

"I…I'm sorry! I dirtied your face-" He pulled a blanket to your brow, attempting to wipe as much of his spill away. You placed a hand over his.

"Amet. It's not dirty." Looking straight into his eyes, you gathered a bead of cum that had collected near your eye and swiped it across your tongue. "And stop apologising. I want to do this for you."

Pulling your gown over your head, you discarded it to the floor, left only in your smallclothes. Leaning your weight on your arms, you placed a kiss on his maw.

"We're lovers now, aren't we?"

The line seemed to make him pause, a tail you had not noticed earlier thumping against the bedding. His cock still stood tall, looking painfully erect.

Capturing his gaze, you gently nudged him until he lay back against the pillows. Slotting yourself between his thighs, he shivered when your hands met his cock once more and continued to stroke. After a moment letting him get used to the sensation, you swirled your tongue over his tip savouring his moan in response.

“M-more. Please.” 

You took as much of him into your mouth as possible, sucking gently while caressing the rest of his length with both your hands. His heaviness felt good on your tongue, still salty and bitter from the cum that coated his cock. Amet huffed, a hand coming to rest on the back of your head as he watched you intently. You could feel him holding himself back from grabbing you as he waited eagerly in anticipation for your next movement, eyes roving over your face and your body, unable to decide on which one to focus on. Adorable.

Forcing back your gag reflex, you bobbed your head up and down his immense girth enjoying all the little noises that escaped his mouth- or maw. Steadily, you could feel yourself growing wet beneath your smalls from how good he felt with your mouth and hands. Oh, just the thought of him inside you, how hard and thick he would be, stretching you open…

“Oh-h gods. I’m going to…gonna…” 

Amet muttered your name like a mantra, breathing growing harsher as you continued apace, eager to draw another orgasm from him. With a groan, he came once again but this time you took all of his seed down your throat, swallowing greedily around him as he twitched and shuddered. His thighs clenched together, bundling you tightly as his hand on your head pushed you further down his length. Once he stilled, you pulled apart from him, gasping for air and wiping the spit and cum from your chin. 

Amet lay boneless, arms spread out on both sides with his chest heaving for air. You smiled down at him, waiting patiently for him to open his eyes.

“S...sorr-” He stopped himself, swallowing thickly. “That was amazing. Th-thank you.”

“Good boy!” 

Those two words seemed to draw something out of him. He sat up straight, ears perked with eyes large and round. His arms encircled your waist and he pulled you closer until his head lay on your chest. Instinctively, you reached up to cradle his face and scratch his cheek. Somewhere behind him, his tail began thumping against the bed again…just like a dog.

“Don’t stop praising me, please.” Amet said into your skin, hold around you tightening. You could feel his cock against your thigh, still rock solid.

“You did well.” 

Craning his neck forward, he kissed you, beastly long tongue wrapping itself around yours. As you broke the kiss, you noticed that his eyes had fully dilated. Amet buried his face back into your chest, nudging at your bustier so you reached back to unhook it, revealing your chest to him. He immediately latched onto a nipple, sucking on it and rubbing his tongue against it whilst he pawed at your other nipple, pebbling it under his touch.

"Ah…" You sighed, melting into his embrace and closing your eyes. The feeling of his rough tongue, encircling your nipple felt heavenly. "Feels good."

After laving your chest with his tongue, his wet nose poked lower and lower. Amet lay back onto the pillows once more, eyes sparkling at you as he nudged you forward until you hovered right over his snout. You removed your smallclothes and they met the rest of your clothing on the floor before you shifted up to meet him.

His long tongue, extending from his mouth, licked a long stripe over your cunt making you moan and hold the headrest for support. You could tell that he was inexperienced, but his enthusiasm and eagerness to please made up for it- Amet licked and bit on your inner thighs before circling back to your pussy, leaving you a quaking and leaking mess.

"Lick it." You tried to plead and your tone came off harsher than you intended, but it served its purpose in finally making his tongue collide with your clit. Amet's hands on your hips pulled you lower for him to ravage you with his tongue, using it as an appendage to thrust in and out while he nudged your bundle of nerves with his nose. The wet stimulation near drove you insane, and you encouraged him with your groans and plentiful praise.

The drag of his tongue against your insides sent you over the edge and you climaxed hard around him. Amet growled, reaching forward and continuing to fuck you with his tongue as you rode through your high and squeezed him between your thighs.

"Amet, stop." You whined, pushing him away from your oversensitive cunt. He pulled away immediately, gazing at you from the pillows reverently.

"You taste so good," he smiled at you, stroking your sides gently, claws raking your soft skin, "like salt candy."

You laughed at the strange comparison, bringing him up for another kiss and sinking into his soft fur. 

"How far do you want to take this?" 

Amet looked at you in a confused manner, quirking his head to the side as if you had suddenly spoken in the ancients. He sputtered.

"I-I was hoping I could maybe wed you one day…" 

You stared at him in silence, a part of you gratified and another amused.

"Is…is that out of the question?" He sounded utterly crestfallen.

"Amet…I meant-" you threw a palm over your mouth to cover the uncontrollable grin spreading across your face, "I meant to ask if you wanted to be inside me."

After a heartbeat, the realisation struck him like thunder and he shrunk away from you with a groan, covering his face with his hands. You giggled, clinging onto his arm and prising his hands away to uncover his expression.

"So, do you? Do you?"

"I-I do." Amet stuttered. It sounded oddly reminiscent of a vow. If his face had not been covered with fur, you bet your spice rack that he would have been beet red. "I mean, I do want to m-make love with you."

"You sound like a blushing virgin." 

Wait. You realised your mistake too late. 

"My apologies. I did not intend to poke fun. You've never done this before, yes?"

"Yes…you are my first."

"Then if it hurts or you want to stop for any reason, you must tell me, alright?" You pecked him on the cheek.

"I think that I should be the one to say that…" He eyed you warily as you positioned yourself above his cock, wedging his head between your lips. It was going to be a snug fit, but you were certain you were loosened up enough to take him.

Slowly, you sunk down onto him, taking inch after inch until you bottomed out. The stretch burned slightly, and he was so, so large. Gritting your teeth, you let yourself grow accustomed to his size as you leaned your forehead onto his shoulder.

"Does it hurt?"

"It's fine," you gasped, pleasure mixing with the pain. He was pressed up against that sweet spot inside of, easing any of the strain, "you feel good, Amet."

After a few moments, you braced your knees and slid up and down, the both of you sighing from the pleasure. Amet felt unbelievably wonderful, and his moans and growls that rumbled from his throat spurred you on, quickening your pace until the sounds of your lovemaking filled the room, making the rainpour and thunder seem distant.

"You feel so warm, so wet." His grip around you tightened, his claws digging into your hips. "My mate."

With his size and your strained thighs, you struggled a little to continue riding him. Amet held you, lifting you and laying you on your back whilst you were still connected to him. His hips pistoned into you, savage thrusts rocking you into the bed as you cried out, clinging onto his shoulders.

"Amet, inside please!" He was panting heavily by your ear, full weight pressed onto you as he fucked into you desperately.

"I'm going to breed you, my mate." Amet growled, thrust growing sloppy until his knot slipped into you, the fullness almost overwhelming you. Stuck within you, he rocked himself back and forth until he came with a whine, his seed filling your womb with warmth. Amet held you against him until his shudders subsided, cock twitching within its sheath and hot spurts of cum painting your insides. For a while, it was quiet between the two of you, both of your panting and moans filling the silence.

"Y-You didn't…"

"It's fine." You rubbed circles into his back, face tucked into his neck. Amet's tongue licked between the valley of your breasts, joining your nipple. You yelped as his hand slipped between your thighs.

"It's not alright with me." He muttered into your chest, rocking into you once more, the delicious friction relighting the fire within. Soon enough, you were close to cumming, the stimulation to your chest and your cunt steadily building and building. 

"A-Amet!" Your lock around his torso pulled him even closer to you, grip on his shoulders driving him faster. With a cry, you came, back arching off of the bed and into his body. He still drove into you, unrelentingly grinding into your cunt. Your vision grew white, spots dancing under your eyelids. Amet's hips halted as you gasped, and he licked the sweat from your cheeks while you closed your eyes and came down. 

"What an attentive lover you are." You sighed, laughing as his licks tickled your neck. 

"I will do whatever I can to please you." Amet lifted you once again, laying you over his body. His knot was still swollen and plugging you, a constant reminder of your joining. You snuggled into his soft body, absentmindedly stroking his fur. 

"You've always caught my eye." He confessed. You could hear the thrum of his heart under his chest. "I thought that you were pretty. And kind. The kids, they knew somehow, and made fun of me. They made up excuses for me to visit you…"

"I'm happy." You whispered into his fur. "Thank you, Amet."

His heart started to beat a little faster. For a few minutes, you smiled into his chest, head tucked under his.

"It may take a few hours…" He said, rubbing the aches in your back and thighs. You could feel his body loosening underneath you, he must have been as tired as you were.

"Well, with this storm we have nowhere else to be."

---

A few days later, the storm finally cleared in the night. When you rose in the morn, you hurriedly pulled Amet out of bed with you, rushing down the stairs and out of the door. 

The outside was a mess of sticks and branches and stones, but you were in awe at the pure blueness of the sky and the faint rainbow that arched across it. The humid, balmy air and the sun felt like a treat after all the days spent cooped up inside. Even the breeze smelled redolent.

With anticipation brewing in your chest, you made your way to your garden, fearing what damage had been done to it. Your treillage had been battered and some of them were completely gone, undoubtedly carried away by the winds. Only sharp, splintered wood in the ground stood as their remnants. Would that you had managed to fortify them in time.

The rest of the garden was similarly damaged, plots of fruiting plants and herbs uprooted and destroyed. You would have to clean it all up and seed them all over again. 

With a heavy heart, you made your way over to your rickety shed and where you guessed your lemon tree would have been obliterated. It was the landmark that made you choose this plot of land in the first place. By some miracle, it still stood there, glorious and tall though leaning heavily to one side and missing most of its leaves.

You ran over to it, eyes wide in shock. How…?

"I managed to brace it with some of the materials in your shed." 

Amet stood back, sheepishly scratching his head. You looked down. There were wires and wood strewn across the dirt.

"I learnt how to from the carpenters. It's a shame that I didn't manage to do the same for your- oof!" 

With tears in your eyes you leapt into his arms, laughing as he picked you up and spun you through the air like you weighed nothing.

[ornii]

yo dude love your content!

can you maybe do Wenclair x Male reader whos a Skateboarder?

you can add your own twist in it if you want.

MoonWalker

This request reminded me of that Family Guy Edit

(If you know, you know lol)

Summer finally rolls around in Nevermore which means a 3 month break, and more importantly a Weekend of celebration. Your foot tapped the floor until the bell rang and finally freed you from the binds of school, students poured out and you took your board and headed for the halls of Nevermore and out to the quad, specifically searching for a certain Raven haired Girl. His eyes lock into the back of the head of the girl and you cup your hands and call out. “Hump Day!” You said and casually skate up to the girl. Wednesday Addams. You met Wednesday during a, night entanglement that you regret her seeing.

“What do you want (Y/n)?” She asks, you shrug and stop skating, but somehow the board continues to ride at its own pace.

“Came to see my Friend! Enid included of course, Where’s Enid? Her family already hounding her aren’t they?” You said, Wednesday continues to walk to her dorm.

“No. She knows I don’t like threesomes.”

“Oh, so she waiting for us? Well we shouldn’t keep her all by herself.” You gave her a small peck on the cheek, her body tensed up for a moment before a small look of relief washes over her face. But she calmly lets a very loaded question out.

“Are you going to tell her finally?” She asks you, it was obvious what she meant and it took you by surprise. You and Wednesday were pretty open with each other, she’s terrifyingly blunt about things so it was easy to be honest, Enid? Not so much. You still loved them both all the same. But telling Enid what you really are wasn’t easy, she thought you were a Werewolf like her, but that’s far from the truth.

Navajo culture calls them, Skinwalkers. Beings that could transform to multiple animals, even humans. Your culture saw Skinwalkers as the antethesis of Navajo cultural values. community healers and cultural workers are known as medicine men and women, Skinwalkers have no way to heal the sick, and are viewed as Witches, evil begins. It was easy to hide who you were, bur Wednesday figured it out pretty early on. But Enid, not so much.

You still remember the night Wednesday put it all together, you were stretching your hind legs running though the schools grounds free. Pacing like an animal you dart around, until you almost bump into Wednesday, who was standing there. You slowly backed away to try to act like an animal but it was pretty obvious by your stance.

“That’s Odd, a Coyote in Jericho? We’re far from the mountains, aren’t we (Y/n)?” She admits, it was awkward but the Coyote stood up on its hind legs, very calmly. The body began to more and gruesomely transform back into your human form. You two stood across from each other. That day Wednesdays saw you for who you really were. She kept it a secret, which you can respect, who knows the literal skeletons she has in hers.

Standing at the door, You gave Wednesday a nod to affirm and she opened it. Enid was actually painting her nails, her head jerks over to see you and Wednesday. She obviously was elated to see you both. “Besties!” She rushes over and hugs both of you, her blonde hair resting on your chest and You look over to see how annoyed Wednesday was, admittedly it was a lot funnier than you expected.

With school finally over, we can spend all day together!” She said, and Wednesday immediately put you on the spot.

“(Y/n) has something to tell you first.” She said, you wanted to say so less than nice things but you took it on the chin and took a deep breath.

“Okay.. Enid, im… not a Werwolf.” You say first, a look of confusion was on her face.

“I’m a… Skinwalker, i didn’t want you to think I was gonna curse you too. So I, hid who I was.. I’m sorry.” You could barely look her in the eyes, you felt her palms gently lift your face back up and she gave a tearful smile.

“I don’t care who or what you are, you’re my friend and nothing is gonna change that, okay?” She gave a deep hug and you happily took it, you held her for What seems to be forever. Cutting into this emotional moment, Wednesday groans.

“…You two are gross.”

[wildwheatfields]

This is VERY MESSY but this is my reference for my headcanons n what I like from the dolls n show

More in depth down below cuz my handwriting is icky anyway

Clawdeen Wolf -

Her werewolf attributes are the nose, teeth, ears, claws and fur. Even her “hair” up top is fur. The fur placement is very much my own headcanon of fur following body hair placement so she’s got the furry arms, legs, chest, tummy, back n sideburns.

Since she’s half Latina, I believe she’d be hairy (to a lesser degree) in human form cuz I’m mixed Latino n black as well n am very hairy. I am projecting onto her!! I was teased growing up so to have Clawdeen be proud to be furry means something dear to my inner child

She likes to paint her claws n dye her “hair” but she has natural brown hair/fur. She’ll dye the “baby hairs” on top but not other face fur

She’s half Latina/werewolf n black/human and I love the double mixed analogy that can come from this n yes I will explore this

Draculaura -

Her vampire attributes are fangs, claws, pointy ears and pink skin. She has no natural blush cuz I headcanon vampires have no blood n need to be sustained by blood or in Draculaura’s case using other ways to sustain herself

She has a heart shaped beauty mark below her eye that she’ll incorporate in her make up. She’ll paint her claws with Clawdeen. She’s dyed half her hair pink purely for the vibes. I think her whole fam is vamp goth but she loves that splash of pink n hearts n frills.

She’s mixed Romanian and Vietnamese but I think she grew up in the US

Frankie Stein -

Their frankenmonster traits are simply the total mishmash of parts. Their body is made up of probably stolen human body parts (I feel like their parents must have mad scientist grave robber crackhead energy fr please I hope they appear in the show) n I think their hair is choppy too cuz it’s made up a bunch of different black n white hair from diff people but they just won’t cut it even. Their brain bits are all monster tho

There’s a panel on the back of their head for brain access. Their bionic leg and foot are interchangeable. Their stitches can come undone but reattaching is easy n they still have control over limbs when detached cuz of some mad science mumbo jumbo

They dyed some strands of hair blue cuz that’s fun. They have a gap in their teeth

They’re technically mixed race cuz I believe they’re literally a combo of diff races of corpses lmaooo I do have some thoughts that they’re made up of people gone too soon but that’ll be a diff post!!

If I think of more, I’ll update! I’ll also slowly release the other monsters

[lichilly]

"you dangle on the leash of your own longing, your need grows teeth." -- Margaret Atwood, The Animals in That Country; from ‘Speeches for Dr Frankenstein’

cw: wounds, implied violence, talk of blood, uhh me being mushy over werewolf Joseph, gender-neutral reader

The fire crackled softly, its glow spilling over the cabin walls, painting the room in hues of amber and shadow. Flecks of light flicked across the worn wooden beams, dancing along the edges where the dark gathered. He sat still, nestled in the warmth, the flames reflecting in the depths of his eyes. His pointed ears twitched at the occasional crack of the embers, but otherwise, he remained motionless—watchful, calm.

You approached from the doorway, your steps shifting against the creaking floorboards. Kneeling beside him, you set down the first aid kit, its zipper cutting through the stillness of the room.

His gaze shifted, tracking your hands as you laid out gauze and bandages with routined care. The faintest of huffs escaped his nose, his version of acknowledgment, as he extended his arm toward you. No words exchanged. There never were.

"Let’s get these changed," you murmured, your voice barely disturbing the air between you.

You took his arm in your hands, feeling the heat of his skin beneath your fingertips, the rough texture of old scars mingling with fresh ones. The bandage unraveled slowly, each layer revealing the healing beneath. A faint tremor passed through him, so subtle you might have missed it if you hadn’t been so close.

As you worked, the fire’s glow bathed the two of you in warmth. He watched, eyes flicking between the fire and the slow movements of your fingers as they worked the fresh bandages into place.

It was routine now. He’d sit by the fire, you’d kneel beside him, tending to wounds that spoke of violence he never explained. You didn’t ask. Instead, you learned to listen to the small cues—the soft exhale, the shift of his posture, the way his eyes lingered on you before returning to the flames.

The old bandage crumpled in your palm as you set it aside, your thumb ghosting over the newly healed skin. The worst of the inflammation had faded, the edges of the wound knitting together. You took a moment, letting the quiet settle around you again before speaking.

"It’s healing well," you said, the words softer than you intended.

A low rumble stirred in his chest, vibrating through the space between you. His eyes flicked up, locking with yours for a heartbeat, then returned to the fire. You couldn’t help but smile.

"You’ve been a good patient," you added, your fingers resuming their work.

He didn’t answer, but the subtle way his body relaxed beneath your touch was enough.

The bandages on his arms were easy, but the deep gash in his side—still raw, still stubborn in its refusal to heal—was the one that troubled you most. You didn’t know what had caused these wounds, nor did he offer any explanation. His body bore the marks of bloodshed long fought and endured. Scars layered on scars, and yet, here he was.

You worked carefully, your fingers brushing over his side as you unraveled the last of the bandage. His breath hitched, just barely, but you felt it—a flicker of discomfort. The gash along his torso, though healing, was still raw, angry. You winced for him but kept your focus, your hands steady as you cleaned the wound with gentle, practiced movements.

He didn’t pull away, but his gaze slid to the floor, a subtle shift that made your stomach knot. It was in these moments, the ones where the silence between you felt more like a weight than a comfort, that you wished he’d let you in just a little more. But he never did.

“Almost done,” you whispered, though he didn’t need the reassurance. You weren't sure if it was for him or for yourself.

His chest rose and fell with a slow, deliberate rhythm, as if controlling the pain through breath alone. The firelight cast shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw, the curve of his lips pressed into a thin line. His pointed ears twitched again, though you couldn’t read it yet—frustration? Agony?

You wrapped the fresh bandage around his torso, your hands brushing against his skin with each pass. He didn’t flinch, didn’t react, though his body seemed to relax minutely with each passing moment.

You tied off the bandage, your fingers lingering for just a moment too long, the warmth of his body seeping into your palms. You cleared your throat, pulling your hands away, suddenly aware of the closeness between you.

“There,” you said softly, settling back onto your heels, giving him space again. "All done."

For a long moment, he didn’t move. His eyes, dark and unreadable, lingered on yours. Something hung in the air—like words he wasn’t ready to speak. You waited, your breath held tight in your chest, hoping for some sign, some crack in the silence.

Instead, he dipped his head in a slow, deliberate nod. It wasn’t much, but it was something. The quiet between you felt different now—less heavy.

You stood, the old bandages clutched in your hand, and moved to toss them into the fire. The flames licked at the fabric, devouring it in seconds, casting the scent of smoke into the air. You watched the embers rise, your back to him, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickened, how the room felt smaller when you were both in it.

Behind you, you heard the softest shift of fabric, the weight of him rising to his feet. You turned just in time to see him step closer to the fire, his gaze fixed on the flames, expression unreadable. He stood just beside you, the space between you barely enough to call distance.

It wasn’t much, but it was something.

Without a word, he reached for a log by the hearth and placed it on the fire. The flames roared briefly before settling into their steady crackle, the warmth spreading further through the cabin.

You stood there, side by side, staring into the fire.

[episims]

Do you ever see lucid dreams?

Well... @themeasureofasim and @persimmonsimmer lured me to post something about Foxfire. Yes I'm cowardly blaming them.

I wrote this short story recently, mostly because I miss my sims, some to practice writing in English, and a bit because I just sometimes need to write.

No pictures, only prose. Warnings: poor grammar and lacking vocabulary.

Felix knew it was a dream. He had seen it many times before.

But as he stood here on the shore, the moist night breeze wiping his face as he watched the pale shine of the moon disorienting on the lake’s uneven surface, it was too easy to forget that it wasn’t real.

At another time, he had licked the salt off his lips after diving into that chill water and shrieked at how the hot, coarse sand tingled his back as he threw himself on it. He had scratched his hands trying to prove to Sara he could climb a palm tree and helped Hugo build sand fortresses with moats at the waterfront.

Felix sighed – did he sigh in his sleep? – but the dream wasn’t going to end by doing so. Surrendering to the part he was playing in it, Felix turned his back to the lake.

As he had expected, Dari stood on the shore, just out of Felix’s reach. They had played here as children and hung out by the lake as teenagers, but this version of Dari was a grown-up man, with a stronger jaw and wider shoulders than Felix remembered him to have. His posture was relaxed, with his arms resting on his sides, and the moonlight painted his figure with a silver tint, dimming the redness of his hair and the warm tone of his sepia skin.

He should be transformed at this hour, Felix reminded himself, battling the dream logic. But Dari remained in his daytime form, only his yellow eyes that glowed in the dusk hinting about the duality of his existence. 

Dari smiled at him. It was a rare expression for the grumpy werewolf and Felix would have blamed it on the dream too if he hadn’t seen that smile before. It was a soft, shy smile accompanied by unusual tenderness in Dari’s eyes; Felix was fairly sure it only occurred when Dari didn’t realize he was smiling.

It was probably only in a dream Felix could ever see that smile again.

He didn’t dare to move and neither did Dari. But what meaning did place and distance have in a dream, anyway? The sand stretched under their feet and the night air pushed them closer, gently but surely, until their noses nearly touched and the warmth radiating from Dari’s body tensed Felix’s senses.

“I missed you,” Felix mumbled, studying the details of Dari’s face. It was all too familiar, his strong eyebrows above deep-set eyes, prominent nose with a perfectly round tip, and full lower lip with a little bite mark at the other side.

“You just say.” Dari’s yellow eyes glinted as he rolled them but his tone was amicable, and he placed his hands on Felix’s shoulders as he spoke.

Felix pressed his forehead against Dari’s and felt the soft touch of Dari’s fingers on his neck. He inhaled slowly, he wasn’t sure if he really needed to breathe in a dream but he wasn’t trying to fill his lungs. The scent was just how he remembered it: a mix of antiperspirant and musk and morning dew and little nuances he didn’t have words for but all of which he had memorized.

He wished he could have frozen the dream at that moment, wished it so badly that it hurt. But, as it was doomed to go, Dari abruptly slipped away from his arms.

A twisted, hollow feeling spread within him as Felix raised his gaze. Dari was standing further away again, now fully transformed, the smooth red fur covering his arms and framing his face. It was only natural to see him appear as he should during nights, but the tenderness in Dari’s eyes was long gone.

“What are you doing?!” Dari snarled. As he spoke, his upper lip raised, revealing his canine tooth.

“You were the one who started it!” Felix insisted on the urge, even though he doubted his own words. It was all the dream’s fault, forcing them to go through this stupid misunderstanding, but somehow, Felix wasn’t able to say that. He never was.

The snarl evolved into a low growl deep down Dari’s throat. He pulled his shoulders back and lowered his stance, bending his fingers. The sharp, black nails he had in his night form gleamed in the moonlight; a perfect weapon to slash Felix’s throat open.

“You fucking imagined it.”

He’s going to attack, Felix knew intuitively and the terror of the thought covered him in a cold sweat that reeked fear. He squeezed his hands into fists, he had recently broken his pull-up record but was muscle power enough to fight a werewolf? He didn’t want to hurt Dari, either.

With his limbs feeling heavy, Felix closed his eyes, preparing for the inevitable. Was this how the dream was supposed to end? He couldn’t remember.

“Felix?”

The silky voice calling him wasn’t Dari’s. Felix opened his eyes and instead of the furious werewolf, he saw Shay standing where Dari had been just seconds ago. Felix didn’t know why but the witch had a golden aura around him, making Shay’s curly hair and dark skin race the moon like a mirage of the sun. 

“Are you alright?” Shay asked with a hint of worry, his blue eyes locked on Felix. 

“Yeah… I think so.” Irrationally, now that Dari wasn’t here, Felix wished that he was. Nevertheless, Shay’s presence was comforting. His arrival had changed how the shore smelled; it had fresh herbs and incense and something that reminded Felix of thunderstorms. 

It was a pleasant scent. Shay looked stunning too, he always did. “It’s good to see you.”

Shay must have heard him but his expression was impermeable, and he didn’t answer or move. The lack of response made Felix uneasy; he wanted to touch Shay, grab the man’s hand, or caress his cheek, whatever to make him react.

But as Felix was about to do that, he realized he couldn’t move forward. By some quirk of the dream, there was an invisible barrier between them, and the harder Felix tried to push against it, the further away Shay appeared to stand.

Shay quietly followed Felix’s vain efforts to reach him but there was sadness in his eyes. His golden aura was diminishing, and along with it, Shay seemed to be fading away too.

“Can’t you cast a spell or something?” Felix groaned to Shay out of frustration. The details of the dream were becoming harder and harder to focus on.

Seeming discouraged, Shay shrugged and averted Felix’s gaze. “You should wake up.”

---------

Felix snapped awake, gasping for air. The soft surface he was lying on was disgustingly cold and wet and smelled stingy.

Sweat.

It was almost pitch dark. Felix turned his head and squinted his eyes; unanimated figures with wide bodies and sharp corners towered around him, as they had been watching his restless dreaming. He didn’t recognize them, or the room he was in.

The cold sweat was pushing to Felix’s skin again and his heart raced inside his chest. He tried to stop the panic from taking over, counting to four as he breathed in. He had been on the shore – no, that was a dream. This is my new room. We moved in with Sara just yesterday. 

Of course. The weird figures were cardboard boxes still waiting to be unpacked.

Felix sighed and shook away the remnants of sleep. The blanket tangled with his legs was just as sweaty as the rest of the bed, so he kicked it away and pushed himself to sit. He leaned his forehead to his knees and pressed his temples with his thumbs, rubbing the damp skin.

If I don’t think about it, I’ll forget faster. 

He hoped he hadn’t made noise in his sleep; Sara’s room was right next to his, and they didn’t have experience yet on how good the sound insulation was. Hugo had never mentioned Felix talking in his sleep when they shared the room but then, Hugo wouldn’t probably wake up to a car crash under his window. 

Felix needed a shower no matter what but reached for his phone on the night table anyway. The screen illuminated with a faint light as he raised it and the text on the screen announced it was 4:17 AM. He stared at it painfully aware that the shower was only going to wake him up more. 

He wasn’t even sure if he had another set of sheets packed somewhere. The plan had been to buy new ones eventually. 

With his muscle memory working faster than his hazy brain could keep up with, Felix opened the phone’s lock screen and tapped the messaging app open. At the topmost were chats with Sara and Hugo, right after them was the team’s group chat, then the private one with the team’s manager, then Paige… he swiped up to see older chats.

The one with Dari had a blank icon. Felix knew by now it meant Dari still hadn’t unblocked him.

Felix dropped the phone back on the night table and swung himself up from bed. Since he was awake and stinking, instead of hitting the shower right away he could go on a morning run just the same.

[foxcort]

“Tragic, for him to die so young and so . . . bloody.”

written for day 5: shapeshifter of @tamlinweek.💚🌷/ one moonlit, eerie night, two monsters strike a bargain. / (SW)

a/n: this is a little fic based off of an edit i did a while back of a concept of werewolf!tamlin and vampire!nesta but put them in a guy ritchie's sherlock holmes backdrop (or late victorian/early edwardian), because why not.

tw: none.

He caught her in the gardens, looking as innocent as a thorn on a rose, her crimson dress fluttering around her when she whipped around to face him. As soon as he’d seen her slinking away from the overzealous crowd of guests, he’d followed after her, his steps not quite as silent as hers.

“Are the festivities not to your liking, my lady?” Tamlin gestured a ways behind him, where warm light illuminated the high windows of Greenwood Manor and the sounds of merriment rose and fell to the tune of the small orchestra. “I told my emissary a circus would’ve been more lively this year.”

She didn’t titter or blush at his jest, didn’t flush at being found in an odd position. Instead she glanced him once up and down, a slow perusal not unlike a predator sizing up an adversary. Her heels clicked against the stone pavement as she strode closer to him, still a smile absent from her red painted lips.

Lady Nesta Mandray was more formidable in person than he imagined she would be. Recently widowed and thought to be a recluse, he'd sent her an invitation to his annual Spring Equinox ball anyway and was mildly pleased she'd taken the bait and made an appearance.

Even if her state of dress was not what he was expecting.

The gown that adorned her body was still modest in fashion, as all dresses worn by genteel women of high status tended to be, but the vibrant red was a stark contrast to the lilacs and tangerines and yellows swirling around the ballroom right now.

At last, she gave him a smile, though it was too sharp and too fleeting. "I wasn't aware all your guests were to be kept prisoner in that stuffy old ballroom." She threw a dismissive look at the manor behind him and Tamlin found himself growing more fond of her for it. "Am I not allowed anywhere else on the grounds?"

He chuckled softly, head bowing as he closed a few more steps between them, “Forgive me, I've been a horrendous host." Tamlin paused, taking his turn to study her, and understood that perhaps he was the prey. "Would you care for a tour of the grounds, Lady Mandray?” 

“Lady Archeron,” she corrected. “I’m afraid Tomas’ name died along with him.” Her sharp gaze seemed to say good riddance.

He smiled. The first real one he’d permitted to show her. “Would you care for a tour of the grounds, Lady Archeron?” 

She regarded his offered arm with unconcealed hesitance, her silver eyes flicking up to meet his as she spoke her next words slowly, carefully.

“Should I be frightened of you, Lord Greenwood?” 

“No.” He was not the kind of monster he suspected Lord Mandray had been. “Not as I am now.”

She arched a brow, and he could almost see the cogs in her brain turning, trying to piece together what he meant. Not as he was now. Not when the moon was only half-full.

It was a tentative, deliberate action but after a few moments of silence, Nesta relented, her fingers curling lightly over his upper arm. Even through the layers of his expensive coat jacket and shirt, he could feel the unnatural chill of her touch.

Without meaning to, Tamlin shivered at that touch and she gave him another one of her rare smiles. “My apologies.” She sounded anything but, and he swore an undertone of delight colored her voice. “I haven’t seen much sunlight since Tomas’ death.” A hunting accident of sorts, he’d heard, though Tamlin didn’t doubt he had help reaching his end.

He struck an easy pace through the gardens and the vineyard, moonlight illuminating their path. “I would offer my condolences, but it would be a lie to say I’m not pleased you no longer have a husband.”

Nesta laughed, a cold and lovely sound. “If you’re attempting to court me, you’ll have to do a lot better than that.”

“Without a chaperone? I wouldn’t dare besmirch your reputation.”

She waved a hand in the direction of the revelry, her nose crinkling in distaste. “If I cared for a moment what those peacocks and pigeons thought of me, I wouldn’t risk being caught in the shadows with you.”

They were almost upon the winery now, a more modest building in comparison, but still sturdily built. And conveniently vacant.

Tamlin slowed their pace, coming to a halt before the padlocked front door. “Something tells me you accepted my invitation and came all this way to risk something else entirely.” He felt her grip on his arm tighten almost imperceptibly. “Your late husband was quite a paranoid man, last I remember.”

The shift in conversation seemed to ruffle her feathers a little and Nesta gently pulled away from him, her fingers digging into the folds of her dress. “And when do you remember him last?”

“I believe it was right before his death.” He said it matter-of-factly, his eyes tracking her movements with quiet interest. “Tragic, for him to die so young and so . . . bloody.”

She shrugged, and he had the impression that both of their masks were rapidly slipping. “He wasn’t a very smart man.” Nesta began to walk, circling him slowly, her eyes half-lidded yet somehow more aware. “I always did tell him to pick his marks carefully, and he always did aim a little higher than he should have.” The tips of her fingers grazed over her exposed collar bone, where he could faintly make out the remnants of a scar. Puckered but fading. Almost as if there’d once been a bullet wound there. “I wonder, Lord Greenwood,” her eyes sharpened and she stilled in front of him, “do you consider yourself a smart man?”

“Oh, only the smartest,” he admitted calmly, an amused smile curving over his mouth. “Though I prefer you be the judge of that.” With that, he strode to the door and removed the padlock, quickly pocketing the small key afterward. Tamlin swung the door open and tilted his head towards it in invitation.

Nesta threw him a suspicious, narrow-eyed look but otherwise strode into the dimly lit winery without another word. He guided them once more, walking deeper and deeper into the barrel-filled building with complete confidence that they would run into no one. Other than the fact that his guests and staff were too drunk on spirits and levity to be roaming so far from the manor, Tamlin had strict rules imposed on the security of this particular building. The most prominent being that no one was to step foot in the building after dark and the door was to always be locked. The key was either always on his person or given to his emissary, Lucien, on the nights he needed someone to lock him in.

His staff was more than willing to believe the lord of Greenwood Manor had a haughty opinion of his stock, that perhaps he took certain measures because the secret to his winemaking was something he coveted greatly. And Tamlin let them believe as such. For the alternative — the truth — would see him in bedlam.

They finally halted before a set of cells. Two large, cold imprisonments hidden deep in the winery’s basement, the turn almost blocked by yet another high-stacked row of barrels. Understanding dawned on her face when Nesta took in the contents of the cells. Long, sturdy chains hammered into enforced concrete walls, the ends of them finished with shackles too big for anything human.

“Shackles? In a wine cellar?” She stood at the threshold of one of the open cell doors, a hint of amusement glinting at her eyes when she flicked them up to meet his. “Hardly a proper thing to reveal to a lady, your nighttime . . . activities?”

“Ah.” His mouth curved into a slow grin as he leaned against the iron bars, and when he spoke again his voice had gone rough. “But you’re no lady, are you?”

She turned, her smile unbidden now, as if all the pretense of propriety had been lifted. “No. But you’ve known that for some time now.”

“Ever since Tomas confided in me that he believed his wife would kill him, I admit, I’ve been suspiciously curious.” Nesta’s smile faltered, but he continued on. “He thought my connections with the Yard would be enough to condemn you to a madhouse. I, of course, refused him any help.”

“How chivalrous of you,” she drawled, “Unfortunately, I have no need of a white knight.”

“Good,” he smiled, letting a bit of the contained ferality peek through his expression. “I would hate to disappoint you.”

“Then tell me, Lord Greenwood—” Nesta paused, stepping closer to him, a serious and impatient tone settling over her features, “Why do any of this? What do you want with me?”

“I have a . . . proposition, of sorts.”

“Go on.”

He laughed nervously, taking a moment to admire her straightforward demand, before asking, “Will you marry me, Lady Archeron?”

Those silver eyes narrowed again, and she gave a lazy perusal of him once more, only this time he had the feeling she was sizing him up for entirely different reasons. “Are you so eager to meet an end similar to Tomas?”

He pushed away from the bars to move closer to her, that gruff undertone returning to his speech. “If it were by your hands, I would die a happy man.”

Her eyes widened a fraction and he saw a faint flush of color rise over her cheeks. Before she could indeed make the decision to gut him right then and there, Tamlin said, “I believe a marriage would be beneficial to us both. To the secrets we want to hide and the habits we cannot break.”

Nesta regarded him quietly for a long moment, and he imagined she could see the advantages of his proposal. Of sharing the burdens of their secrets with one another. Of hiding the suspicions that would start to rise for the both of them as the years went on.

Finally, she tipped her chin and gave him another sharp, little smile. “I accept, Lord Greenwood.” Tamlin felt his heart jump at her words, a reaction he hadn’t anticipated when he’d set out to strike a bargain with Nesta Archeron. “Although I wouldn’t entirely rule out the possibility of mariticide, if I were you.”

“If you do decide to murder me, promise me you’ll keep my name.” He offered her his arm again, with the intention of leading them out of the winery to resume their stroll under the moonlight, his smile wider than he could constrain.

“A possessive man? How disappointing.”

“I don’t mean to own you, my lady. I mean to haunt you.”

Nesta laughed as she looped her arm around his, more at-ease now as she followed him back through empty building and out into the night. “I think it wouldn’t be too difficult to keep that promise.”

a/n: once again a super specific little piece that was meant to be posted a lot sooner 😀 but i had a lot of fun writing it and i hope you guys enjoy it too!

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Perv!Xavier Thorpe~Headcanon 2

warning : minors don't read, interact, obsession, yandere behaviour, kissing, stalking, non consensual touching, kidnapping, reader is female

masterlist

Part.1

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

°It had been a few weeks since she had arrived at Nevermore Academy. Not only had she learned to love the place, she had made friends in Xavier, Bianca and Enid, and by her standards she was getting on well with Wednesday. Because the Addams already had murder plans that she could commit with the paper skills. But her relationship with Xavier was strengthened by their artistic nature.

°What was for her an artistic friendship, was for Xavier a deep connection, an artistic muse, an obsession that should be his. Which is why he had been trying to get closer to her ever since he saw her at the lake. Between endless meetings for homework, projects and an exchange of art ideas, he slowly got further, further and further. With each passing day, the thought matured that he needed you for himself. A muse to use anytime, in any way.

°Which is why he almost cried out in delight when Headmistress Weems announced that there would also be a painting competition at this year's festival, in which the winner would have to choose a fellow pupil as his muse, along with another scholarship, to celebrate the beautiful side of being different. His gaze, which was on Weems, suddenly went to you, who was standing so innocently next to Endi and was pleased that the blonde werewolf seemed to already have ideas.

°Waiting a little until the meeting had dispersed, he walked over to you with a confident smile. He knew her timetable by heart, had it hanging in his hut, knew where she was at all times. It was easy to memorise it and run into you whenever you went to the different classrooms. ,,Hey, I wanted to ask you about the painting competition," he started and saw you looking up from the notebook. You are perfect he thought and he was sure you could hear his heart beating.

°He saw you nod which told him he could continue before he said ,,I want you to be my muse, my model for the competition, in short you should be the exhibition". He watched her face grow more touched and geared with each word he said. He knew she was flattered, knew she liked it when he complimented her. He seemed to feel the warmth in her cheeks. ,,Thank you Xavier, that means a lot to me...do you have any ideas yet or do you want to draw something first? she asked innocently, not suspecting what he had in mind.

°My pretty one, you have no idea how beautiful you are going to be he thought and felt the anticipation rise up in him at her acceptance, not that he had given her a choice. ,,Just come to the hut this afternoon or early evening, I know exactly what it's going to be," he replied curtly before he left to buy a few things he needed for the preparation. Because besides immortalising his masterpiece, there was more than just the painting he had to do. The thought of finally having it, owning it for himself, seeing his inspiration in person. An excited sigh crossed his lips as he realised he no longer had just the paintings, her clothes, his imagination. He would be able to put his hands on her, to see her in her purest form, to touch her.

°The hours of the day passed and the artist was already in his hut when he heard the knock of his muse. To open the door for her and let her in, he closed the door and turned the key, but she didn't seem to hear. ,,This is an interesting and pretty environment, I like it," he heard her say and felt his lips twist into a smile. ,,You don't know what this means to me. Here some lemonade" he thanked her and held out some of the lemonade.

°He saw her take the glass and take the first sip. ,,This is good," she murmured and took another sip before sitting down on the chair he had set up a few metres away from his screen. ,,Like a supermodel," he quipped, even though it wasn't a joke and she giggled anyway before making herself reasonably comfortable. ,,Wait, I'll position you," he said, walking over to her. Gently he put his hands on her clothed body, handling her like a doll. Touching every bit of her skin he could get before he finally put her in the right position.

°He wanted to touch more of her, she was so precious and yet he wanted to dirty her. To have more of her. Before he forced himself to go back to his canvas and he began to paint on the pre-painted background. From time to time he looked at her to see if it was already having an effect. ,,What kind of background will it be?" he heard her ask, and saw her break her posture to wipe her face. Finally

°He continued to watch her for a moment before he said, ,,A background that suits you, it holds your beauty," he replied and put his brush back on the paint palette before he saw her make a slightly anxious noise. ,,Xa-Xavier" she said his name and rose from the chair as she stumbled to his table as her legs seemed to give way and she went down on one knee.

°A short laugh at her awkwardness crossed his lips as he walked to her. ,,You're going to be fine, you still have to model standing, my dear," he crooned and saw how she didn't know whether she should push him away or let him help her. With a jerk he had her back on the chair and let his hand wander over her body. Finally I have you he thought and felt the warmth of love flowing through him. It was no longer a fantasy, he finally had her to himself.

°His hand clasped hers and brought it to his lips, kissing her and seeing her misty eyes through the means in the drink. ,,You are beautiful...two artists together forever...ever since I saw you" he murmured and took a strand of her hair between his fingers and put a hand on her cheek. Warm and soft how would you sound?" he wondered, moving away from her but feeling the wave of excitement going through his body.

°Picking up the brush again, he began to continue the actual painting. To finally paint what he had lured her here to paint. With a few final brushstrokes he finished the painting and reached out his hand to make the artwork real. Before the golden cage formed around the chair and imprisoned her.

°Despite her fogged mind, she seemed to realise what had happened and rose from the chair, swaying, before going to the bars of the cage and trying to open them somehow. ,,Don't be afraid, my heart, I'm here," he said, slightly worried, and walked over to her cage where he wrapped his hand around hers and pulled her as far as the cage would allow.

°She seemed to want to say something but only an indistinct murmur came out before his other hand took hold of her jaw and gave her a kiss. The kiss he had been hoping for for so long. The kiss he knew he wanted more of. Before he broke away from her and saw the last of her strength drain from her body and she collapsed.

°Moving into the cage he held her upright knowing if he let go she would fall to the floor. ,,Finally you are mine and together we will create a masterpiece" he murmured before he took her in his arms and let his hands wander over her body. He ran his hands over her arms, belly and breasts, feeling her shape underneath. Before he snuggled against her and looked at the camera lying on his dresser.

°Despite the darkness surrounding the hut, the flash was illuminated by the camera's shutter. Positioning her body as he needed her before placing her used body on a painted bed inside the cage. Covering her naked body with a simple blanket, he brushed a strand of hair from her face and gave her another kiss. ,,Don't worry, I'll be right back," he said and turned off the light in the hut before going out and locking it. His leisure was finally his.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@princessmads1820

[clean-bands-dirty-stories]

Hold Still ~ X.T.

A/n: Gender neutral pronouns were used, so gn reader for this one! Pure fluff after the last angsty fic <3

Request: “Xavier x werewolf!reader where R gets into a fight with another student that Xavier pulls them out of and helps patch them up. R is still drunk on adrenaline(or like mildly concussed lmao), and they keep being annoying trying to steal kisses from him while he’s literally trying to help stop their face from bleeding.”

Word Count: 1500+

MASTERLIST

Xavier had gotten there too late to see how it had started, but it was quickly quite clear how it was ending. Y/n wasn’t shifted at all, only their eyes glowing as they went to town on the person underneath them. Xavier had only managed to slip through the crowd and hook his hands under his partner’s arms, hefting them up and away. They had fought, and though Xavier was taller they were stronger and they almost got away. If him not groaning as their foot came in contact with the sude of his leg and them recognizing his voice, they probably would have gotten away clean.

Distracted by Xavier though, their focus changed quickly as they turned from the guy that Xavier didn’t even recognize - except that they weren’t from Nevermore. Which made no sense because they were at school. The town people never came here on their own.

He focused on his partner as their hands ran over his shoulders and down his arms, eyes scanning for injury.

Despite himself, Xavier smiled. “I’m okay.” Of course they had the time and energy to be worried about him when they had a forming black eye, split lip and bloody nose.

Xavier was a little proud to say the other guy looked worse though. Y/n had handled him well.

Not that he should he encouraging that.

Weems was on the scene in the next breath, leaving no room for further discussion. Her eyes ran over something before her worry turned cold and hard as her eyes landed on the boy still on the ground. No one had even tried to help him up, which confused Xavier even more.

Then he saw it.

When Xavier’s art in town had been painted over last year, Weems had given him permission to do something at the school. He had put all of the effort he had into this one, absolutely sure that it would be safe inside the school at the very least.

The wall he’d had his second painting was white, the paint only on enough to cover what he had worked so hard on, underneath. Over the white was splattered, “Monster” in big blocky red letters. At the bottom of the scene on the wall was an open and prepped bear trap.

Xavier felt himself go pale.

The trap was a message of course, the boy probably hadn’t meant to actually catch Xavier or anyone else. But it would have been easy not to see it if you were lost in a book or practicing some practical magic or in regular school stuff - even if you were in a hurry on the way to class. There was a corner that someone could turn around and completely not see the trap at all.

This kid had not only ruined Xavier’s portrait, he had put every single person at Nevermore in very real danger.

No wonder Y/n had gone for the throat.

Weems leered at the boy at her full height and the boy on the ground shrunk into himself. “You won’t press charges, or spread word on what happened here. If you try to I will expose the instigating actions and very illegal trespassing and assault you’ve done. Don’t even get me started on the physical safety threat you’ve made.” It wasn’t totally accurate, but it would he only too easy to play off if anyone tried anything.

Weems had grown a backbone. That was nice to see.

The boy nodded and, once dismissed by Weems, scrambled to freedom. She then turned to Y/n. She didn’t reprimand them as expected. Her gaze simply softened and she sighed. “I know things have gotten difficult for you since getting arrested,” she said softly to Xavier. His eyes fell to the ground, unable to look at his ruined painting.

For the second time now.

“Make me something for my office instead okay?” She asked.

Xavier nodded, looking at her as she kneeled down to check on how Y/n was doing. “Thanks, Weems.”

The woman smiled. “Of course. Now go get your partner patched up.”

Xavier smiled softly, helping Y/n to their feet. The pair left to Xavier’s dorm. Usually they’d be sneakier or at least get some light hearted joking teasing from teachers or reminders of curfew, but today they just walked and everyone left them alone.

Y/n had stepped up for Nevermore ajd taken hits for it. They could have this one.

Once inside, Xavier sat them down on his bed (It smelled like him and he knew they’d like that). Then he got a wet rag, disinfectant and a few bandages. He sat next to Y/n, reaching over to hold their chin as he used the rag to softly dab and wipe the blood away, cleaning the cut.

They hissed, leaning away on instinct. Xavier shot them a half amused look. “We love a knight in shining armor but now I have to patch you up like the good boyfriend I am. So please stay still.”

Y/n did a little pout. “Can’t you just kiss it better?”

Xavier chuckled. Then he sobered a bit as he realized their eyes were dilated and their gaze seemed a little unfocused.

Shit.

“Hey, are you feeling anything abnormal other than the pain from the bruising and cuts?” He asked, trying to move their chin so their eyes would meet his. They seemed to struggling with the task.

Y/n just shrugged. “My head hurts a little. He got like, two good hits in. But only in the beginning. I landed on the ground before he got on top of me and then I sort of flipped us over and-“ They shrugged again.

Xavier frowned. “Did you hit your head?”

Y/n laughed at that. “Several times. Between his fist and the concrete I got a few good whacks.”

Xavier bit back an angry comment. That wouldn’t help them right now. He would chide Y/n for being reckless and apathetic with their well being another time. “Y/n, you have a concussion.” He raised an accusing eyebrow.

Y/n grinned. “Not surprised I got a bit roughed up falling for you.”

Xavier snorted, rolling his eyes and dodging his partner as they went in for a kiss. “You cannot flirt your way out of this. You should have told me that you hit your head. I could have made it worse.”

Y/n sighed, leaning against the end of the bed, first pushing a pillow behind him so the post didn’t dig into his back. “I’m sorry Xav I just. Tired.” They nestled into the bed and closed their eyes, as if to sleep.

Xavier pulled them into a sitting position, heart swelling when they whined. They were so adorable right now…

He had go focus.

“You can’t fall asleep when you have s concussion darling we don’t know exactly how bad your concussion is.”

Y/n rolled his eyes but conceded. “Fine. Continue your treatment Doctor Thorpe.”

A smile ghosted at his lips again, unable to help himself. “Okay sit still and I’ll try to get the rest of your face.”

“Not my face,” Y/n groaned. “My money winner!”

A chuckle bubbled from Xavier as he was caught off guard by the near drunk way Y/n was acting right now. He seemed to be able to focus more easily now and wasn’t slurring his words, and he seemed to be keeping his balancing sitting up fine enough so Xavier was unworried enough to be able to enjoy the shenanigans. “Whatever, Y/n.” He reached the rag forward to wipe more of the blood away. Y/n ducked the rag and leaned in again for a kiss. This time they got a peck before Xavier ducked out of the way. “Y/n,” he chided.

The put on their best pleading face. “One kiss and I’ll sit still?”

Xavier sighed, taking a second before conceding. “Fine.” They made a squeaky noise of celebration before puckering up, leaning in. Xavier chuckled before shifting his hold from their chin to their jaw, leaning in for a long and deep and sincere kiss. When he leaned away they whined and he found himself suddenly sickly in love. “Please let me finish?”

Y/n hesitated, eyes locked on the details of Xavier’s face, drinking in how he was looking at them right now. They pursed their lips. “Xav. You know you’re not a monster, right?”

Xavier felt something warm settle in his chest. Y/n was always so aware and caring of him, even when they were concussed.

God he was lucky. “I know.” His thumb brushed across their cheek, expression soft. He was melted to the floor in love with them.

They smiled. “Good.” They settled into a single spot, lifting their chin and offering their face for cleaning. Xavier went back to work, thanking whoever was listening above that even though people were cruel and mistakes haunted you even when the mistakes weren’t yours - that despite all the bad in the world, Xavier had Y/n. Someone so good they single handedly balanced everything else.

He could paint another picture. They were worth that.

[captain-mj]

For horror night!

Graves is exploring the forest near base during the full moon. It's bright enough he didn't really thing anything of it when he gets attacked by werewolf Price :)

Delicious. Also, consent do be dubious but I can assure you, all parties are consenting.

Graves had just been exploring the nearby area. Ever since he had been put on… probation he’d call it, he had been stuck on base. It made sense he couldn’t go on missions or leave unsupervised but he wasn’t even allowed outside without someone there. If he really wanted to escape, he would’ve done so!

Tonight, the moon looked lovely. It painted everything in a silver lighting that he liked. He slowly walked out into the grass. After a moment, he slipped off his shoes to feel the earth against his skin. Growing up Southern, he was rather used to being barefoot and while he didn’t exactly indulge the thought often, it felt nostalgic, holding his boots and walking through the cold grass.

Graves got to the tree line and noticed how dense the woods felt. Not just because of the thickness of the trees but the underbrush that surrounded each tree. He could barely take a step without something dragging at his pants. Brambles and parts of thicket and even some grass that had gotten longer where humans didn’t seek to control it.

Felt like home.

Graves heard something. Branches snapping. Immediately he started to look around, hoping to maybe catch a deer or fox. Too loud to be a rabbit.

Something peered at him. Eyes glowing in the dark. It was low to the ground so Graves tried to remember local wildlife. Too short to be a badger. Too talk to be a bunny. The eyes were huge and reflected the light easily.

It stood up.

Graves watched it raise up, thinking maybe it had been crouching.

But it kept standing up.

It went from only a foot off the ground to taller than him.

Graves knew when to run. He had only made it a few steps in to the woods. The treeline was still in sight. It should’ve been Fucking easy.

One of the brambles that tugged him earlier wrapped around his ankle and he hit the ground harder. The thing shoved his face in the ground with its giant hand.

Hand?

What?

Graves tried to get a good look but there was too much weight on him. The hand pressed him down hard, bordering on painful now.

He tried to elbow it and it growled so loud his ears began to ring.

Another hand balances in front of him and that’s when he sees it. Price has scarring on his hand. Its a funny shape. Rather unique. Someone had stabbed him in it. Twice. At separate times. It made an x that crossed his palm.

The monster’s hand has the x. It felt like Graves’s world started to slow down a rolling stop.

His harsh breathing echoed the monster on top of him. After a moment, he realized it was copying his pattern of breathing. Ever inhale matched.

More and more weight was put on him until he felt like he was being crushed. Graves started to claw at the ground to get away when finally, finally, the hand shoving him cheek first in the dirt Let go. He raised up a little and tried to escape and wiggle away.

A tongue ran up the bare skin on his neck as if to taste him. A growl resonated from it and then Graves found himself lifted up slightly and flipped on his back.

Price.

It really was Price.

Graves could tell by his eyes. Those gorgeous blue eyes. His eyes had to adjust to the dark and what he was seeing. Soft dark hair that curled around giant ears. He still had the body of Price. Maybe a bit bigger. Unnatural. His body seemed to bend and twist in a way that didn't quite make sense as if the tendons were wrong.

"John?" Graves said gently, reaching for him. His clothes hung off in tatters, letting him see all of the tattoos that dotted Price's body. His chest and stomach didn't have much fur, letting Graves gently touch his skin.

Price sank his teeth into his shoulder, hard enough for blood to start flowing. Graves immediately started to fight back, but even with all of his training, he hadn't really learned how to fight off... whatever this was. He kicked his feet, trying to find purchase on the ground.

Why did he leave base? He grew up in the South. He knew all about the things that could lurk in the woods. Should've waited.

"John please." He hit at his shoulders while feeling the teeth sink in deeper. Adrenaline kept the pain from really hitting him, but it was still there. Bubbling under the surface. "You don't really wanna kill me do you?" Could he even understand him?

Price pulled away, blood dripping from his face onto Graves's. His tongue flicked out to get the blood off his face before leaned down and licked it off Graves as well. For some reason, the word tender came to mind.

Then they were kissing. Price's blood covered tongue lapping into his mouth. Graves slowly stopped struggling, hands instead running down the smooth planes of his back before tugging the fur slightly. It came out in clumps in his hand and he quickly decided not to do that.

Price's teeth fit perfectly around his throat as he ripped Graves's pants off. Graves considered for a moment if he should. Would Price be upset in the morning? He couldn't possibly blame Graves for not fighting him off but what if he felt guilty? Price couldn't be in his right mind right now.

A harsh bite to his side dragged him back to the present. Only one way to find out.

Price pawed at him. His hands were normally big, but now they made Graves feel small. Wrapping around his waist with ease. Price nuzzled against his stomach for moving to his thighs, moving down.

Graves considered running for just a moment before Price's sharp claws dug into him. Maybe not. His hot breath fanned against his thighs and Graves blushed more.

Price's fingers were thick and tipped with claws. However, he was so careful as he fingered him. Graves was just happy he was of sound enough mind to think about that. His tongue poked at him and Graves squirmed before quickly being pinned back down. He was helpless to do anything other than take.

He whimpered as Price found his sweet spot, abusing it while he happily lapped at him. Spit started to drip down his thighs and it made him shudder.

Price picked him up and pinned him to a tree, letting Graves wrap his legs around him. He pressed their foreheads together as he pushed into him.

Graves immediately shoved at him, surprised by how big it was. It felt like he was going to break in half and he barely had the tip in. He kicked out but Price didn't pause until he had bottomed out. Graves panted softly, brain turning to mush. Price held him gently, face pressed to his neck. His hips rolled slowly over and over again. Any coherent thought ruined as soon as he did.

Graves panted against him, eyes fluttering shut. Price started to thrust in properly and he couldn't take it. It felt so good. So big and it stretched him out so much. He started to sob against him, holding on tight as he could as Price ruined him.

Pleasure and pain mixed, dripping up and down his spine. His legs shook and he wasn't sure he could stop them if he wanted to. Price licked along his jaw and he moaned softly.

He started to speed up and Graves bit him back. He couldn't really rip into him the way Price did him, but he left a nice row of teeth marks.

Graves came so hard his vision went white. Price started to press closer until he felt something odd. Something thicker pressed against him and Graves vaguely remembered when he learned in biology about knots.

"John."

Price paused.

"Don't you dare." Please do.

Price pushed in suddenly and Graves screamed before devolving to more sobs. He came in him, making his insides feel warm. The knot kept them from separating and Graves panted, accepting the fact he'd be there a while. Price's hand got dangerously close to his cock and he groaned, leaning back to give him more room. He stroked him slowly, gently rocking into him.

"Price..." Graves panted out, feeling his hair stick to his skin from sweat. The moon was still high over head and he wondered if they would be doing this all night.

A small kiss on his cheek and a rough twist of his hand gave Graves the impression that yes, it would be.

[klausysworld]

Can we get a Klaus and plus size reader smut please? Rarely find any here and I love your writing so wanna read more of it 💛

Perfect

my body was something that sometimes i loved and sometimes i hated. My thighs were thick and lined in pink stretch marks along the sides of my hips, my stomach wasn’t flat like the other girls but full and squishy, my arms seen as ‘flabby’ and my face round.

Sometimes i looked at myself and confidence surged through me, i wore well fitted clothes and strutted around the compound.

Other days i wore clothes far too large and spent far too much time in the gym.

Or i would stuff myself silly as i attempted to fill an empty void, i would feel awful after but i just couldn’t help myself.

My self image hadn’t been an issue for me recently, having Niklaus Mikaelson as a best friend certainly helped.

Of course i ended up having feelings for him but i mean who wouldn’t? Often i would catch him stealing a glance at me or blush when i complimented his artwork and the hope of him holding romantic feelings for me would rise but then there were days that doubt would swarm inside me. Somebody would comment on my shape or my weight and all i could think is ‘there is no way someone like him could ever love someone like me’

Today had not been a particularly great day. I was currently sat on the floor of the Mikaelsons personal gym within the compound wearing a shirt 3 sizes too big and leggings that clung to my legs making my eyes desperately avoid looking at them. I had been down here hours, i finished doing any exercises at least 40 minutes ago but i couldn’t find it within me to get up.

Tears trickled down my cheeks and my hands pinched my sides.

Footsteps got progressively closer and i shuffled back further against the wall

“love? are you in here?”

fuck. fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck

‘what is he gonna think when he sees the pathetic state i’m in!?’

i had no time to think further as his eyes locked my my glossy ones

he was at my sides in an instant, his arms pulled me to his chest gently as he rested upon his knees, his hand tucked my face into his neck as his other rubbed my back

“you, my love, should never feel the need to cry alone on a dusty floor. let’s get upstairs okay? we can go to the art room and ill paint while you play the piano hm?” i let out a chocked cry and shook my head holding onto his shirt as i breathed his scent.

his hands moved to support my back and under my thighs, he was going to pick me up. i panicked then and lurched forward to escape his hold

“easy love just let me carry you up”

tears were fully streaming at this point

“im too heavy” i all but whimpered

his face softened further and my body was lifted off the ground, i was held securely as he took me back up the stairs towards his room.

“you forget, my love that i am both vampire and werewolf, i could carry anything. I assure you that you are as light as a feather, you are simply perfect.” i sniffed my tears back and nuzzled into him in comfort.

i was placed onto his bed and pushed up so i leaned against the headboard. He pressed his lips against my cheeks, my forehead, my nose, all over my face until at last a peck was left on my lips. His hands cupped my face and he leaned his head against mine

“perfect. Do you understand?”

i nodded meekly and he hummed

“say it” he whispered, now looking into my eyes

“i’m perfect” i mumbled

“yes, yes you are” he brushed his thumb over my bottom lip

“i’m going to show you just how perfect you are now okay?”

i swallowed audibly, my face flushing as i nodded in consent

his lips were on mine soon enough pressing softly against me and his fingers travelled underneath the baggy top and along my torso. His tongue swiped and pushed it’s way inside my mouth as he began exploring, his taste flooded my senses, i didn’t realise that i was left in my bra and leggings. He pulled away slowly and looked down at me, he ran his hands up my body and cupped my breasts through the fabric

“beautiful my love, just perfect.”

my lips twitched to a small smile seeing nothing but adoration in his darkened sapphire eyes. Klaus ran his tongue flat over the flesh above my nipple, bra now disregarded somewhere around the room and hands removing my leggings, panties and socks.

His mouth moved south, he sucked lightly along my stretch marks before licking across my thighs

“you, sweetheart are going to ride my face” he told me and he used his vamp speed to have himself beneath me as i sat on his chest. A squeal left me and i quickly lifted myself off of him trying to crawl off but his hands gripped at my hips guiding me forwards

“klaus… i’m serious..i’m too heavy…”

he leaned himself up and kissed my center harshly, my arms faltering as i unconsciously dropped myself lower… almost sat on his face

“sit y/n. do not hover, i do not care how heavy you think you may be, i want my head between your thighs and that’s what i’ll get, sit.” i cautiously did as i was told, the feeling of my clit being enveloped my warmth and rolled against his tongue made me wonder why i argued.

Niklaus lapped at my wetness and gently moved my hips back and forward against him. He moaned lowly sending vibrations up through me, my head fell forward and my hands grabbed the headboard for support. Whines and whimpers fell out my mouth, my hips ground against him whilst his hands squeezed my ass tenderly.

“klaus! oh god..”

his tongue pushed inside my entrance while his nose continued to brush my clit

Heat coursed through me, an individual heartbeat was felt between my legs and i began moaning out his name continuously

“im…im..mm klaus i-“ my own sounds cut me off as i came around his tongue holding onto the headboard as i rocked into his face.

Another minute passed of him licking my thighs clean before he lifted me up and rolled me onto my back, his lips found mine again as we both panted

“you have no idea just how wonderful you taste, utterly divine” he spoke softly but firmly, his hands getting my lags to wrap his now naked waste… when he undressed i do not know but looking up at him now i would never complain about anything. If heaven were on earth, he was it.

“i love you klaus” i whispered grabbing ahold of his left hand and looking hopefully at his eyes to find his reaction.

His face was blank as he searched my face, he must have noticed it drop and the regret seep in as i dropped my legs down and began moving to sit up.

His right hand pressed against my chest pushing me flat on the bed, his left squeezed mine and he caught my eye locking our gaze

“i love you too y/n…i’m sorry it took so long to say it. I love you y/n y/l/n”

tears welled in my eyes and a happy sob chocked through my throat, he brushed my cheek and peppered my face in pecks again before our foreheads were pressed together again

“put your legs back up for me” he spoke quietly as he looked down to position himself at my core. my legs were pulling him down and his right hand guiding himself inside me. We both gasped at the sensation as he slowly filled me to the brim before pulling all the way out and thrusting back inside drawing intense moans from my throat. Both his hands entwined with his as he stretched our arms up and over my head

“i love seeing how your body moves with mine, so bloody perfect aren’t you” he mutterers while kissing by my collar bone and sucking lightly.

Klaus’s hips began to gain speed, he started hitting deeper and harsher, guttural groans and moans vibrated into my skin, our hands squeezed each others and my walls began tightening.

i cried out his name, in response he started moving at a supernatural pace, places i was unaware of felt as though they were on fire and my hips bucked up at him

‘i love yous’ were echoed off the walls and soft kisses were shared

One hand left mine and placed itself against my overly sensitive clit, the fast movement of him inside me and the pressure against my ball of nerves became overwhelming, the tension beginning to snap

“that’s it my love, squeeze me nice and tight”

i let myself relax, the powerful rush spreading all throughout my body as hot spurts somehow filled me even more

My legs gave up and fell to the sheets, Klaus’s hands rubbed up and down my body as he removed himself from inside me and leaned back down to clean my thighs and center, a small whimper escaped me at the overstimulated feeling

His hands pushed him up and he crawled up the bed, a blanket was dragged over us as he pulled me to him, our arms wrapped around each other with nothing but love between us

“i am going to love you forever y/n, i will never, ever allow you to deem yourself anything less than perfect, perfect weight, perfect body, perfect face, perfect voice, everything you do is unmatched to anyone and everyone in this and any other universe there may be. I promise to show you just how much i love you and to cherish every moment we spend together”

that night we remained together, knowing i would wake up in Niklaus Mikaelsons arms, in the man i love arms was more than enough for me to look at my body the next day and smile. We are all beautiful and perfect in all ways.

i hope this is what was wanted if not just send in another request and ill try again :)

[sp1rit-realm]

༻¨*:· 𝐀 𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐋 ·:*¨༺

♪ It's just that I fell in love with a war ♪ ♪ Nobody told me it ended ♪

༻¨*:· summary ·:*¨༺ You break a bowl, Remus tries to comfort you. An argument ensues.

༻¨*:· notes ·:*¨༺ 𖦹 reader's previous relationship was abusive 𖦹 a bloody hand (but nothing graphic) 𖦹 gn!reader (they/them pronouns) 𖦹 a sprinkle of angst 𖦹 hurt/comfort 𖦹 remus lupin calling you his darling and his love 🜷⌣🜷 𖦹 remus lupin being the best partner ever 𖦹 he's so boyfriend 𖦹 inspired by the song 'A Pearl' by Mitski  𖦹 fluffy ending bc i'm a huge crybaby 𖦹 i did not proofread this bc i'm lazy ⎝(ˊᗜˋ)⎠

༻¨*:· word count ·:*¨༺ 𖦹 2.1k 

"Sometimes, I wish I was a star," Your voice was quiet as you peered into the black sky, stars scattered across it. They looked like pearls. Precious.

He looked at you in admiration, "Why?"

"Because they're up there," You sighed, "And they take time to paint each star. To them, each one is just as important as the one before, and they ensure they are all beautiful."

"Who's up there?" There was genuine interest in his tone, and it warmed your heart.

"The person I used to be." You felt silly saying it, and you were scared he was going to judge you.

There was a beat of silence.

Instead of judgement, he reached for your hand and interlocked your pinkies, whispering: "You're precious. Like a pearl."

Your face grew warm.

Remus anxiously waited for you—he was gnawing at his fingernails. He scolded himself; you hated when he chewed on his fingernails.

1:39

"They're only nine minutes late, Remus. It's okay. They're okay. We're okay," He muttered.

Remus had an underlying fear that you would leave him. It wasn't because of the whole werewolf thing—okay, maybe it was the werewolf thing, but only a little bit; and he was working on that.

It was because of something you were going through. Remus didn't understand what you were going through; he couldn't understand. That was one of the many intricate parts of your relationship.

You didn't want him to understand because he could only understand if he went through the same thing. You certainly did not want him to go through that.

That is what brought you here, on the floor, curled into yourself, sobbing.

"He doesn't deserve this. He doesn't deserve me," You wailed, looking at your hands

Remus stood up, it had been half an hour, and he knew you weren't showing up.

He felt tired.

Not of you, never of you, but of this feeling. This emotion that appeared to be swallowing you whole and seemingly had its eyes set on your relationship as its next victim.

You heard the key in the door, and a wave of panic hit you. Then, as it washed over you—submerging you and taking your breath—the panic turned into guilt.

You were supposed to meet Remus at the park, and you were ... crying?

He toed his shoes off and walked to the kitchen, where he heard you weeping.

Upon seeing you, his heart felt like the shattered pieces of porcelain at your side. You were sobbing because you broke a bowl. Then, you started apologizing. It was frantic and compulsive, just a simple "I'm sorry" repeatedly falling from your chapped lips.

He wondered how anyone could see you like this and get mad at you.

"Darling?" He knew his voice had to be quiet. You were fragile right now—he assumed your breaking of the bowl triggered you. At this point in the relationship, identifying the trigger was somewhat easy. Identifying the feelings the trigger brought up was the challenging part. It didn't help that sometimes you couldn't articulate your feelings.

One of those times seemed to be now. Remus loathed that all you could say was, "I'm sorry."

Then, he noticed the dry blood on your hand and wanted to joke about how 

'You've only broken a bowl. You didn't kill someone, even though you've got literal blood on your hands.'

He didn't. Maybe he'll tell you later.

He knelt beside you.

Remus didn't think anything of it. He just wanted to wipe your cheek and relieve it from the layer of tears.

To him, it was harmless. To you, it was frightening.

You shrunk into yourself as he brought his hand up, and you scrunched your face, bracing for a slap, or a hit, or something physically violent.

Remus brought his hand down, and his lips pressed together.

"I'm not gonna hurt you," He whispered, "I'll never hurt you. You're safe her, Darling. You're safe."

Your next inhale was sharp, and your face relaxed with the shaky exhale that followed. You opened your eyes to look at Remus, who spoke gently, "Why don't I clean up your hand, okay?"

At your nod, he spoke again. "Can I touch you?"

You shake your head, "It's not because of you. It's— It's—"

At your wavering voice, he stepped in, "I know, Darling. I know"

He didn't understand why you felt you had to explain why you said no, just that you were wired to do so. It hurt him—deeply.

You stood slowly, knowing you would get dizzy if you stood too fast. And if you got dizzy, there was a possibility that you would fall, and if you did, Remus would either try to catch you, or you would injure yourself. If Remus caught you, he would be touching you, making you even more miserable. If you got hurt he—being the angel he is—would take the blame and never forgive himself. Both would make him feel worse. You already missed lunch together because you dropped this stupid bowl and—

"My Lovely?" Remus repeated for the fourth time; this time, it snapped you out of your frantic thoughts.

You looked at him, "Hm?"

"To clean your hand, I'm going to have to touch it. Is that okay?" His talking was slow and calm, and it oddly made you mad.

"I said I didn't want you to touch me!" You felt your heart beat faster, and adrenaline rushed over you.

Remus was so incredibly tired, and he didn't feel like fighting. He hated fighting with you—it was gut-wrenching.

"I know, but I don't want your hand to get infected because it's not clean."

"Stop speaking to me like I'm a child, Remus."

You knew what you were doing, and it was wrong, but it felt so right to pick a fight. You hated yourself for it.

Remus sighed.

You swore you could feel the blood pumping through your veins and drew your brows together, "Don't sigh at me."

Remus knew better than to indulge in your argument, but he couldn't help himself.

"All I am trying to do is help you."

Your brain was foggy, "Well, you're not helping. If anything, you're making it WORSE!"

You have said a lot of things in past arguments. Never anything like this.

"Wait, no—" You quickly went to correct yourself.

"I'm making it worse?" He repeated your bitter words. "Really? Because if I'm making it worse, I can leave. I can leave you here and never try to help you again if I make everything so much worse."

"That's not what I said!" You argued back, "I never said you make everything worse. Stop twisting my words!"

"I'm not twisting your words, Y/n. This—" He waved his arms around the broken porcelain, then around you, "this is everything."

Too far.

"I am a person, Remus. I am not just my trauma." Your voice was quiet.

"Aren't you!?"

You looked at your bloody hand, "I'm sorry, Remus. I—" Your voice cracked, and you went silent.

Hit turn to feel guilty.

"Can I clean your cut?" He muttered.

You gave him your hand.

"Can I touch you?"

You somberly nodded your head.

His touch was soft, and you started to sweat. You hated this feeling. You hated fearing that his fingers would turn harsh after they softly cleaned your hand.

And you felt bad for being scared, because you knew Remus would never hurt you. Still, something in you was constantly on edge, a primal instinct to protect yourself before you got hurt.

He once said you reminded him of a pearl. He would give you pearl necklaces and earrings and bracelets. A precious pearl, that's what he would call you.

The jewelry stayed in your jewelry box, untouched since you left him. You weren't sure why you kept them—maybe to remind yourself that it was real. It could be because the pearls symbolized what you thought his love was.

It wasn't love, though, it was manipulation, and it was toxic.

And, as much as you didn't want to believe it, it was abuse.

Perhaps you kept the pearls because they were part of that toxicity.

Remus finished cleaning your hand somewhat ten minutes ago; you hadn't realized, too deep in thought.

Too busy thinking about the pearls again.

He stained part of you, a part of yourself that you now call The Pearl.

It started small, and you were able to control it at first.

Now, it seemed unmanageable.

The Pearl taunted you. It told you to be explosive because it knew Remus wouldn't be. Explosions cause chaos, and chaos is safe. That's what it told you.

But then, when the chaos was over and done with, it told you that you were toxic and abusive—it said you were a monster and that you were just like him.

You would indulge in The Pearl—you did everything it told you to do. You believed everything it told you to believe.

Maybe you were toxic.

"Y/n?" Remus repeated. His voice was quaint and delicate. You could tell he didn't want to startle you.

"Do you want to go sit on the couch? Maybe we can talk over there?"

You nodded, trudged your way to the couch, and plopped down. A heavy sigh escaped your lips.

You, too, were tired of this feeling.

Once he sat down, you quickly spoke, "I'm sorry, Remus."

"I'm not going to tell you it's okay 'cos it wasn't, but I'm also sorry. I said some very hurtful things, and I know better than to let it get out of hand—"

You wanted to scream, not at Remus, at yourself. You interrupted him, "Remus, t's not your fault. I let it get to me."

"My Darling, I'm still having trouble understand what 'it' is. I know you've tried before, but can you try and explain again? Because I can't keep doing this. My Lovely, I can't keep arguing with you. It hurts too much."

Perhaps it wasn't the best wording, but you knew what he meant.

"I'm sor—"

He cut you off, "Don't apologize."

You nodded.

"It's like there's this—" You took a deep breath. You had to tell him, no matter how scary it was.

"He used to call me his precious pearl," You started, looking down into your laps where your hands rested, "And I was his. He trapped me for years, and I became his."

Remus didn't like hearing that, but he put his anger aside.

"He changed me, Remus." You looked into his soft, lovely amber eyes. He wasn't judging you.

"Do you know how pearls form?"

He looked at you with confusion and shook his head.

"When an oyster comes in contact with a foreign substance, it traps and covers it with the same stuff that makes its shell. As time goes on, this material—the one that makes the shell—builds and creates a pearl."

Remus slowly nods, "Okay."

"Well, when this process occurs naturally, it doesn't hurt the oyster." You look back down into your lap, "But there are pearl farms where harvesters will cut the oyster and insert irritants." You looked back at him, "Pearls are formed to defend the oyster. When this process happens artificially, it usually hurts the oyster because the harvesters do it with little care."

Remus nodded again, "You know I'm very interested in the things you enjoy talking about, but I'm not sure if this is the right time to be talking about pearls."

"Just wait. It has to do with this, okay?"

When he nodded, you kept speaking. "So, I'm like an oyster, and he was like a pearl farmer. There's this part of me that I call 'The Pearl,' it helps protect me, but not in the right way. Before he could take the pearl, I left, and now I'm trying to remove it, but it's hard and it hurts. It hurts so much." You hoped you were making sense. "Now, I'm with you, and I love it. I love this relationship so much, Remus. I do. And I love you, you're so gentile and you don't even want to make a pearl from me, but I've got one, and it hurts, and I don't know how long it'll take to remove it—I don't know if I can remove it."

Remus was starting to understand. "So, The Pearl, it makes you—" He was very careful with his words, "It created chaos?"

"Mhm"

"As a ... defense mechanism?"

You nodded, "It's because I'm not used to being in such a calm relationship. It feels unnerving, so The Pearl is telling me to create the explosions 'cos that's how it's "s'posed" to be, and then you'll leave, and—" Your inhale was shaky, "And then I turn into a harvester and The Pearl is happy with that because I don't get hurt."

He was quick to respond, "You will never become a harvester, and I won't leave." He shook his head to himself, "I won't ever leave you."

You looked at him with adoration, "Even though I've got a pearl?"

"Even though you've a pearl," He confirmed. "We can work on extracting it together, okay? How's that sound?"

Your heart felt so warm and so full, "That sounds nice."

He curtly nodded and stood up, "You want a cwtch?"

"The bowl," You whispered.

He smiled softly, "I cleaned it up—while you were thinking earlier."

Remus told you his stupid joke as he held you. You felt safe as you laughed, saying: "I do have lots of skeletons in my closet, though. That okay?"

He smiled, "I love spooky shit."

It made you laugh harder.

Maybe you could finally wave your white flag of surrender.

No more war, no more pearls.

Thank you for reading, my lovelies

ଘ(੭ ˊᵕˋ)੭*༺ ♡‧₊˚

@forourmoons @sw34terw34ther @cremexcoffee @nelabelievesindragons @evergreenlover

[2-kamikou-1]

okay fuck it. fantasy shzrks (werewolf shizuku x vampire rui x dragon tsukasa) hcs because I can't get them off my mind.

I think that they would all live in this massive mansion that rui inherited from his parents. shiho and saki would be there too

it is incredibly easy to conceal vampirism for rui compared to the other two, especially because rui is so observant (and a little bit of a perfectionist...). contacts and sunscreen will do the trick and he can usually get away with telling someone he just has long canines. While he does get sluggish when he has to go out during the day (on account of. nocturnal) that doesn't really reveal much. most people just think he's just not a morning person.

While Shizuku does have a form that appears perfectly human, it takes a lot of energy for her to maintain that, so she prefers to stay in okamimi form (wolf ears & tail, slit pupils, larger canines, slightly longer hair and slight vocal changes). to hide this she'll usually just tuck her tail away in a long skirt/pants and wear a hat or headband. Also when she is in her wolf form while she does remain a shade of teal it looks enough like a pale gray for her to pass as a wolf or a large dog.

which, if i may paint you a picture: rui is out with shizuku and they are trying to pass as a human and a dog.

"aww cute dog what breed is she :)"

"uh uhhh uhhhhhh. gray" *running*

ANYWAY. for tsukasa trying to pass as human is a FUCKING NIGHTMARE, mainly because his wings and tail are MASSIVE. she can fold her wings against her back but it takes some careful precision and layering to hide it properly. what to do if no layers can be visible? duct tape. ❌ saran wrap. ❌ fabric padding beneath the clothes. ✅ usually his tail will get wrapped up in that too but sometimes on days he feels like wearing them he'll hide it in the frills of a fluffy long dress. usually long sleeves and pants will hide the scales but if that's not an option? sfx makeup is a specialty of both rui and shizuku's. (Each time they do that Tsukasa asks if they can make his arms look more muscular. They won't.)

All 3 of them are capable of animal transformation, shizuku a wolf as stated above, Rui a bat and Tsukasa a dragon.

shizuku is a wolf but she behaves like a large dog. Rui and Tsukasa are constantly getting snuggles from her. they will play with her like a dog. they will throw sticks in the forest and she will get lost trying to find them and she will howl for them and they'll effectively be playing marco polo til they find her and she gets SO clingy once she's gotten lost and scared <3

all that said, shizuku is really only comfortable being in her full wolf form around rui and tsukasa (and shiho). As such, full moon transformations tend to be hard on her. It's a forced transformation which makes it more painful and harder on her physically, and makes her more prone to violence. It scares her and she tends to be very confused and distressed during these transformations.

This is largely because she already faces so much backlash and disdain when she acts like herself as a human. And it still does affect her. As a seasoned idol, she knows that if she is something dangerous, something "ugly", it could spell disaster for her. This is why she takes care to make sure mmj doesn't know about her werewolf status, and much less any of her fans.

There are two people, though, that Shizuku can find solace around- Rui and Tsukasa, who don't react to her with disgust no matter what. (Obviously also shiho but 1. this is a shizuruikasa post and 2. shiho is also a wolf during shizukus transformations, so,,)

Rui and Tsukasa will do whatever they can to keep Shizuku safe during not just the night of the moon but the gibbous nights preceding and following it. Also, though, this often entails emotional support. which is effectively treating her like a massive puppy. i talked about this four paragraphs above I just didn't know how to connect the two

Shizuku gains less and less control over her ability to shift between forms as the full moon approaches (and as it begins to wane). During these nights she'll be much more tired, impulsive and irritable, and it becomes difficult for her to focus on things which is why at a certain point she'll stay home and her partners will take care of her like she's sick.

Rui will often opt to turn into a bat whenever he's stressed or anxious. which happens a lot because he's rui.

Rui can't feed off his partners due to them being different creatures- if he did he'd be turned, but he's already a vampire, and that would lead to some kind of fucked up chimera with a shit ton of complications, on the off chance it didn't just kill him. Vampires can feed off other vampires, so he'll often meet up with Mizuki to feed. Mizuki also has connections with Mafuyu who has connections with hospitals so he has a pretty solid supply.

While he doesn't need blood on the daily the way most other creatures diet's demand food (usually a substantial amount of blood about once a week will keep him fed fine), he will still sometimes go way longer than he should without it, which often makes him spiral. because there are occasions, though few and far between, where he can't get donated blood for one reason or another and he does have to attack humans. he hates doing this, but he needs the sustenance lest he get violent and aggressive.

Often this results in shizuku and tsukasa having to wrestle him into eating or helping him deal with the emotional ramifications of having to feed off a human.

While vampires need to consume blood, they are perfectly capable of eating anything else- it just lacks nutritional value for them (unless it contains blood somehow, but it's usually animal blood and therefore not quite as good). shizuku and tsukasa bring him candy whenever they can and rui collects the containers (something to do with your time when you're immortal).

circling back around to the "whenever rui has a bad day he turns into a bat", he will also often find places to hide in these instances. He is, however, a creature of habit. shizuku and/or tsukasa have come into his room, looked under his bed, found him hanging there in bat form and coaxed him out to talk through whatever happened more times than he would like to admit.

stew caca <3 he is capable of transforming into a moderately sized dragon. in both his forms he has wings so he can fly, but his dragon form is much more suited to such an activity, and he can fly higher and longer. he can also support more weight! sometimes shizuku and tsukasa get rides (saki is priority, though. sorry.)

While I did say above that Tsukasa does hide her draconic features from time to time, it is very difficult and often times she will just go out like that- this is a universe where fantastical creatures are known to exist, and Tsukasa has the privilege of being a type of creature that is largely respected.

Why is it, then, that he hides these features? sometimes he prefers to be seen past his hybrid status. as an esteemed actor and a creature that gets marveled at like a zoo animal, he doesn't...quite feel like he can form proper bonds with people. for a while she repressed that desire, but reuniting with Shizuku and meeting Rui rekindled it as they treated her with respect. As you can likely imagine, this means that Tsukasa is very comfortable around shizuku and rui for that reason- he feels like he's truly connected with them.

umm some miscellaneous abilities. tsukasa is capable of breathing fire in dragon form and manipulating it in hybrid form. He also has really good vision. think like a hawk. flying in the air needs to be able to see. rui is capable of echolocation as a bat and also has a less powerful sort of haemokinesis that serves mostly to allow him to intake as much blood as possible in a short time, although he doesn't like to use it. He is also quiet as fuck nobody can hear his footsteps. shizuku is ridiculously fast and also very resistant to the cold, like, supernaturally resistant to it. This isn't really a werewolf thing, but I think she should get to have some kind of hydro/cryokinetic abilities. because like. snow... wolves. maybe within a certain distance of her body she can make air moisture freeze into snow :3

[the-mad-closet]

Okay hear me out on this… it’s kinda weird OwO

Werewolf Javi/Human Amelia + This ask + 18, 20, 33, 60 and mayyyybe 75

If that’s not a lot >\\\< <3

Ooh fun!

18 - Dirty Talk, 20 - Blindfold, 33 - Face-fucking, 60 - Overstimulation, (bonus) 75 - With people in the other room

~

18 - Dirty Talk

The thing about being in love with a werewolf is that the sex is easy. The thing about having sex with a werewolf is that Javi is essentially an over-excited puppy. The good thing about this is that Amelia already knows what to do to turn Javi on.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you." Amelia asks. "Mm, you'd like me to pull out the strap on and fill your slutty hole, wouldn't you?"

Javi whines, high pitched and dog-like. "Yeah," he replies. "Please, please, please!"

"That's a good boy. Let Master take care of you, hmm?"

"Yes, Master," Javi happily replies.

~

20 - Blindfold

Blindfolding Javi is always an interesting experience because Javi's other senses are already so heightened. Javi says he loves the blindfold and Amelia can feel the pleasure even without using her Rafkon abilities.

Javi whimpers excitedly as he turns his head, following Amelia's every movement. Not that he could currently see her with the pink blindfold obscuring his vision. Amelia wants that right now, Javi unable to see. It gives her a rush to watch her wolf track where she goes.

Amelia hums softly, reaching over and running black painting nails up Javi's bare torso, up his chest, and then back down to his groin and back up. Javi whines. Amelia chuckles. "Don't worry," she murmurs, "Master will give you what you need."

She hooks one finger of her free hand through the d-ring on the black collar Navi wears. "Won't she?"

~

33 - Face-fucking

"Mm!" Amelia grunts, the last of her orgasm fading away. "Ahh," she moans, head leaning back. "That's a good boy." Carefully, she climbs off Javi's head and lets him catch his breath. "And good boys," she says seductively, running her pointer finger down Javi's hip, the tip of her nail scratching the sensitive skin.

Javi yelps involuntarily, fangs on full display.

Amelia clicks her tongue. "Good boys get rewarded." Without further delay, Amelia leans down and swallows Javi's cock right down to the root.

Javi's head smacks into the pillow as he moans long and loud. "Master," he begs, hips pushing up. Amelia laughs, the vibrations making Javi yelp, "Please!"

Amelia taps Javi's hip, giving him full permission to fuck into her mouth. Javi gladly takes it, hip already churning upward with powerful thrusts. Amelia catches the rhythm quickly and sucks like her life depends on it.

It's not long, it never is. Amelia hums, hands drifting up to play with Javi's pebbled nipples. Javi howls as he comes right down Amelia's throat.

Amelia sighs happily, swallowing every drop.

~

60 - Overstimulation

The aftershocks of Javi's second orgasm always feel like lightning, so he says. It's not often that he asks to be pushed back the limit like this. But he'd begged so pretty, how could Amelia refuse?

~

Javi lifts his hips, pressing back into the strap on desperately. "Please," he begs. "C'mon, please?"

Amelia laughs. "Aww, baby," she says. "I've just started." She reached down and presses a button on her hip. Javi yelps as the cock in his ass suddenly vibrates right against his prostate.

"Please," Javi begs, pushing back harder.

Amelia laughs again. "Good boy."

(Bonus)

75 - With people in the other room

"Am-Amelia," Javi gasps pleadingly. "Please, there's-"

"Your father and sister and entire family just a room away?" Amelia asks teasingly, hand creeping down Javi's pants anyway. "You'll be quiet, won't you?"

Javi whimpers, claws drawing scratches in the plaster and drywall. "A-Amelia," he begs.

"Ah-ah," Amelia tuts, tapping her finger on Javi's lips. "What's my name?"

"Mm," Javi moans, eyes closing and head thunking against the wall. "Master," he pleads.

Amelia smirks. "Stay quiet."

"Yes, Master," Javi replies, looking at Amelia with wide, hesitant eyes. Amelia kisses the look away and Javi moans softly as Amelia brushes against his cock again.

~

Thank you! @skyland2703

[silentsneezes]

here’s a (small) addition to the w/olfstar drabble i posted last week

MINORS DNI!!

(characters are 19)

Remus keeps a close eye on Sirius, who seems determined not to sneeze. His pointer finger is curled below his nose, and it seems to be doing the trick. They make it back to the fat lady’s portrait in a few minutes, only pausing once for Sirius to cough roughly into his elbow.

“Password?” The painted lady requests eloquently, squinting down at the seventh years.

“Paptrop-“ Remus starts, but he pauses as Sirius flinches forwards next to him, pinching his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

“ng’GXch! hh-Ngck!”

“Paptroplock,” Remus speaks clearly to the portrait, ignoring the fat lady’s look of disgust as Sirius sneezes. He grabs Sirius’s wrist gently and tugs him into the Gryffindor room.

Sirius blushes and allows Remus to drag him up to their dorm. Once the door closes behind them, Remus drops his wrist.

“You okay?” Remus asks after a second, looking at Sirius with a concerned expression.

Sirius nods, flashing Remus a little grin, “Peachy”

Remus scoffs a little. He rolls his eyes and sits on his bed. As much as he hates to admit it, sitting is much better for his hip.

Sirius hesitates before walking over to his own bed and sitting on the edge of it. Remus looks over to the sickly boy, wishing he’d sat closer.

The werewolf pulls out a book and starts reading. He resigns himself to staring at the same page. ‘If Sirius won’t acknowledge his illness, neither will I.’ He thinks stubbornly.

He’s distracted again as Sirius changes his shirt, and Remus does his best not to let his eyes linger on Sirius too long. He looks back at the page. Chapter Three: Whimsies and Warlocks of the Wizarding World.

Remus doesn’t even get past the title when he hears a quiet, ‘hh-kNXch!’ He looks over at Sirius, whose face is once again buried in the handkerchief.

‘hn’GKXT!’

Sirius’s shoulders shudder as he stifles the powerful sneezes, clearly they’re not easy to suppress.

“Bless you,” Remus comments casually, pretending to flip the page of his book and continue reading. He tries to focus:

Whimsies, a species discovered in the early 1940s by Mickgraw Flottle, have wreaked havoc on Wizarding developments in the West Indies since-

‘hhE’KSXCHEWw!’

Sirius sneezes harshly, unable to stifle the sudden expulsion. He sniffs liquidly, blushing as he tends to his nose with the handkerchief, which was looking terribly sodden.

Remus keeps reading, determined to wait until Sirius might finally admit to his illness.

Remus finds his place on the page again: …since Wizards first discovered their habitat. Whimsies are most commonly recognized by their-

‘heh… hh-‘

-abnormally sharp teeth, similar to those of a Huwendog, which-

‘hh-hhr’GN’xch!’

-have venomous bites, fatal to everyone: Muggle and Wizard alike. There are 108 recorded attacks from Whimsies, most of them taking place in-

‘hHSXChhH!’

Remus snaps his book shut and stares at Sirius, “Bless you,” he says pointedly. Sirius nods his thanks, his blush visible even from across the room.

The werewolf sighs, setting the book aside and standing up. He walks over to Sirius’s bed, but hesitates before sitting next to the sniffling boy.

“Sorry to inderupbt your readig,” Sirius apologizes, taking note to avoid certain letters, his congestion more obvious than ever.

“Blow your nose, I can hardly understand you,” Remus instructs, a little more harshly than intended.

Sirius blushes crimson, but he gives in and blows his nose. As soon as the congestion in his nose shifts, he snaps forwards.

‘hHN’gGXxt!’

The stifle grates against his already sensitive throat, and he winces a little. Remus waits to bless him- Sirius never sneezes just once.

Sure enough: ‘hHdDTSchw! h’nNGSXchx!’

“Bless you. Just let them out Pads”

Sirius sniffles into his sodden handkerchief and mumbles something Remus doesn’t quite make out, but sounds an awful lot like, ‘hypocrite’. Remus brushes this off, rolling his eyes.

He takes out his wand and taps it to the handkerchief, whispering, “Scourgify!”

“Ta,” Sirius thanks him, his voice strained.

TBC

sorry for any grammatical or spelling errors! any feedback or comments are much appreciated :) hopefully the next update will be longer!