#poor werewolf

[bluegiragi]

chasing tail.

early access + nsfw on patreon

[moonwolfmedia]

When you are a werewolf, some things become forever off limits to you.

Episode 2, Forbidden Fruits, drops Wednesday July 19th, at noon PST!

[not-rab]

James: Can I get a waffle?

Sirius and Remus: *aggressively yelling/making out with each other*

James: Can I PLEASE get a waffle?

[ronkeyroo]

🐺 LYCANTHROPY:

Featuring : The werewolf brothers

Is it a Blessing? ᴏʀ ᴀ ᴄᴜʀꜱᴇ?

[bigcatbulges]

Source - huto_futon

(Artist's FurAffinity Itaku Ko-fi and Mastodon)

[angelbabby]

Milo when he got called a dog

[lulublack90]

Prompt 2 - Delight

@jegulus-microfic May 2, Word count 611

First part

“No, come back later, he’s not seeing anyone right now.” Madam Pomfrey barked at them when they tried to visit Remus the following morning. 

It had been bad once they got him safely back down the tunnel and into the shrieking shack. He’d torn the place apart trying to get back out. He and Sirius had taken the brunt of Moony’s frustrations, and they had quietly rejoiced when those first rays of sun loomed over the horizon. They watched as their poor friend reappeared as the wolf made its way back inside him. Remus hadn’t been conscious when the transformation finished and that was their first clue that Remus’s wasn’t in a good way. Sirius had crawled nearer and gasped. James had peered over his shoulder and seen the cuts and gashes caused by the Wolf taking out its anger on itself, on Remus. He still hadn’t come round by the time they had to go. James had to physically drag Sirius away as he’d refused to leave their friend. It was only when they passed Poppy Pomfrey on the way back up to the castle, she didn’t see them, of course, did they all relax a bit. She’d be able to help Remus.

“Well, she’s a delight as usual,” Sirius scoffed as the hospital wing door was slammed in her face. 

“Come on, let’s go down to breakfast, we can try again before lunch.” James suggested, slinging an arm around Sirius’s shoulders and leading him away from the infirmary with Peter trailing behind. 

They turned a corner and came face to face with Regulus. 

“Reggie? What are you doing up here?” Sirius said in surprise, scanning Regulus’s body for any signs of injury. Regulus ignored his brother and looked directly at James. 

“I want some answers.” He was scowling and James’s brain told him it was a pity he scrunched up his face like that because he was quite handsome. James blocked that train of thought and said to Regulus.

“Not now, later. I’ll tell you what I can, but some things aren’t mine to tell. Tonight, the history of magic classroom after dinner.” They started to walk away. Sirius opened his mouth to say something to James. 

“Wait, where’s Lupin?” The three Marauders spun around, worry on their faces. Regulus’s eyes widened as he looked at the hospital wing doors and back to their guilty faces. “Salazar’s pointed beard! You’re telling me mild as can be Lupin is actually—” Sirius raced forward and covered Regulus’s mouth with his hand, stopping the next words from escaping. 

“Shut up you idiot!” He hissed into his brother’s ear. He looked to James, wanting to know what to do next. James didn’t know. He raked his fingers through his hair, leaving it standing up on end. 

“We need to talk to Remus,” He murmured quietly. Behind him Peter uttered a muffling charm, so they could speak freely. “Good shout, Wormtail.” He nodded at his friend. “Okay, change of plans. Come up to Gryffindor tower at dinner time, it’ll be empty then, and we can answer your questions.” He told Regulus. Regulus’s eyes narrowed and Sirius suddenly yanked his hand away. 

“Yuck, gross, Reggie!” He exclaimed, wiping his slobbery hand on his robes. 

“Do you really think I’m that stupid that I would willingly walk into the lion's den?” He scowled harder at James. 

“I think you will if you want to know the truth.” James shrugged his shoulders as he grabbed Sirius by his non-licked hand and carried on down the corridor. “See you tonight.” He called over his shoulder, knowing someone like Regulus wouldn’t be able to resist coming to find them.  

Next part

[the-angst-chronicles-fanworks]

The Wolf and The Witch

Part 1/?

Steve knows better than to enter the Witchwood. He’d been warned from the time he was a child, back before the wolf, that it was home to its namesake. And not just any witch, a dangerous one. One that had killed an entire hunting party, unprompted, with the flick of a finger. None who have entered those woods since have ever returned.

Steve knows better than to enter the Witchwood, but he doesn’t have a choice. Robin is slumped over his back, hands clenched tightly in his fur, clinging desperately to consciousness. He can feel her blood, warm and sticky, matting the fur of his back. His own gait is slowed, every step jolting the silver teeth digging into his right hind leg and sending sharp pain shooting through him. He’s not sure how much longer he can run, and he can hear them - the bloodthirsty cries of the townsfolk dead set on his murder.

They had been found out. So many cycles of living in this town, living among its residents as a friend and neighbour, and still they’ve all turned on him. Of all the times for it to happen, too. It was the moon he had agreed to make Robin a wolf. She had already been weakened from the wolf taking hold when they had been attacked, the silver already a weakness but her body not yet given over to the strength of the wolf.

Steve wishes he could take her to Nancy, knows Nancy would help despite everything, but the townspeople have blocked them off, funneled him in his blind panic. His only hope is to lose them is the wood, but even then he might lose Robin to his own fumbling medical knowledge.

But first, he has to get away from their pursuers. Steeling himself with a deep breath, Steve enters the Witchwood.

————————————————————————

Eddie is no stranger to people trying to do him harm. It’s been a constant in his life from the time he was a child, long before his gifts had awakened. And one that had- well. It’s been a constant of his life, sure as the cycle of the moon and sun. So he notices the prickle of someone entering the woods, but he gives it no regard. It happens a few times a year, that someone gets it into their heads that they will be the one to kill “The Witch of the Woods”. None ever even make it to him, losing themselves in the enchanted trees.

These trees are older than him, and their magic is their own. They like him and welcome him among them, but otherwise are hostile to outsiders. In the beginning, he had tried to help those who became lost in the woods, but those days have long since passed. Despite what his uncle says about his soft heart, Eddie’s become bitter and jaded and he no longer pays any mind to those who venture into the woods.

But this time, something is different. Eddie feels the disturbance of someone crossing into the forest, feels the shift of magic as the forest warps around them, and it’s… different. The ways and paths of the trees are second nature to him, he can tell by the shimmer of magic against his skin which paths have been revealed and which hidden away and this…

The forest is being lenient, gentle. The interlopers are shown the ways to peaceful places, soft and danger-free. Eddie can recall only a few times that the forest has been kind to intruders, and it has almost exclusively been to children.

So he’s more than curious already when he feels the buzz of more people crossing the boundary into the woods. A lot more. And Eddie realizes that this hunt is not for him.

The trees are not so kind this time, opening its twists and turns like a maze, a trap for anyone foolish enough not to turn back immediately. They don’t, of course. They never do. Eddie pays them no mind, drawn instead by curiosity to the two that are being pursued.

He steps between the trees, slipping into a space that’s folded away between reality, picking his way with ease through paths that are there and paths that are not until he emerges at the edge of a small clearing, moonlit and mossy. Theres a tiny spring-fed pond and there, limping toward it, is a wolf. It’s huge, the size of a small bear, with a strong frame and thick russet fur.

It notices him at the same time as he notices it, and it’s massive head swings to face him, teeth already bared in a snarl. It’s hackles raise, and it turns fully, squaring up, a threatening growl rumbling across the little clearing to him.

Eddie steps back, already gathering his power until it glows around him with dark energy, because this is no normal wolf. Even without the size and the silver trap clamped around its leg giving it away, he can see it in its eyes, feel in its presence that this is something more.

He recalls his childhood, the warning tales at his mother’s knee. He remebers later, freshly chased out of town and taken in by his uncle, watching as the old man leafed through his ancient book and warned Eddie that he wasn’t the only dangerous thing in the wilds. Eddie has no doubt that he’s come across one of those dangerous things now. He looks at the wolf and knows exactly what he’s seeing.

A werewolf.

[ask-walter-and-vince]

Ripped

[venacoeurva]

Thanks for sharing, Wren, also that saying isn’t so broad as you think it is, Wren,

-Please do not reupload/edit/use-

[softcitrus2345]

Hey, since you have the case of silly doggo brain rot, do you think after a huge feast Wolf Lucien-- I mean Damien-- has, do you think it'll effect him when he changes back.

Like he's already a chonky werewolf, but imagine how big he'd be when he changes back.

~📜

FHSIDJKLGDS Why yes, I have thought of that before~ >;3c

It's just too perfect The werewolf eats a lot after practically starving from his exhausting transformation, and doesn't really have a lot of restraint- In the morning, he wakes up, the food from the night before still digesting in a distended belly He shrank, but the stuff he ate didn't-

Werewolves just have a lot of potential for this niche, AAACK When that does happen, Vanessa's always there to help comfort him and give him some soothing tummy rubs to help with the discomfort TTwTT I can imagine it gets more extreme over time, the chonkier Damien gets, the bigger his appetite is and the more he eats and- Well you get the idea XD

[storytellingbadger]

Sundrop gives great shoulder rides, but this is his first time having a go! Never had a friend tall and strong enough before.

Silly gift for @shirajellyfish! Thank you for being my friend.

Sundrop is from their incredible fic I see you, Sundrop! on AO3. Fell, the huge noodly beast, is mine.

Images split up below.

PS - Fell’s proportions are meant to be unnatural and bizarre. They’re a bit of a mess of a monster.

[aurevell]

Returning the Favor Sterek | 5k | T

Stiles pays a nighttime visit to his boyfriend in secret, or so he thinks. Unfortunately, the Hale family has keener ears than he realizes.

It’s late when Derek hears the noise at the side of the house. A creak of siding that cuts through the backdrop of cricket song. Just one lone sound, but there’s something cautious about it. Probing.

He lowers the book he’s reading, but no other sounds follow. Derek has been lying sprawled across his bed, drowsy and warm and comfortable, sweatpant-clad legs resting against the wall—but now that he’s conscious of the sound, his focus sharpening, he thinks he’s been hearing quiet noises grow nearer for some time without quite comprehending them. A wild animal outside, maybe, creeping slowly around the foundation of the house. Something large enough that the mulch in the flower bed crunches beneath its weight.

It’s not often that a solitary animal grows bold enough to venture this close to a werewolf pack—the scent always scares them off first. They don’t even get raccoons out here, especially not with the cold this time of year. It could always be their cousin Warren, who’s always thought it funny to startle his relatives with unexpected visits in the dead of night. Or any one of the nasty things in Uncle Peter’s wild stories, supernatural things that creep into the house come dark.

Derek glances at the window, book still resting on his chest, but the house is still.

Maybe it’s gone. That’s just as well: he’s too comfortable to drag himself over to the window to look.

And then another sound comes, an unmistakable creak. Heavy weight settling into place.

Downstairs, his mother sighs. “What was that?” she demands, her voice faint with distance. She and his dad are likely out on the porch swing at this time of evening, even though it’s nearly winter, lunatics that they are. “If Laura and Cora are at it again—”

“I’m sure they aren’t, Tal,” Derek’s father replies, sounding amused. “You put the fear of god in them.”

Mom scoffs. “If we have to repair another door, it’s coming out of their pockets.”

“Not everything is my fault, Mom,” Cora mutters pointedly from down the hall. There’s heavy metal coming from the vicinity of Laura’s bedroom, just low enough to be blasting from her headphones, and she doesn’t pipe up to defend herself.

The thing hasn’t gone away. Metal squeaks a moment later, and then the scrabbling returns, punctuated by a thump and a muffled grunt.

Annoyed, Derek tosses the book aside and clambers to his feet, crossing over to the window. When he hoists up the sash, letting the night chill waft in, he peers down into the dark and finds that the source is worse than anything he could have imagined.

It’s his boyfriend, scaling the side of the house like some deranged cat burglar.

Stiles is hanging onto the drainpipe, having managed to hoist himself several feet off the ground. He’s leaning against the metal awning over the kitchen window, one foot atop the shutter and the other scrabbling for purchase against the siding. At the clatter of Derek’s opening window, he looks up, startled, and nearly loses his balance.

“What are you doing here?” Derek hisses.

“Just returning the favor.” With a moment to catch himself against the awning, Stiles gets his bearing and grins. “What? Don’t make that face. C’mon, you can show up at all hours of the night, but turnabout isn’t fair play?”

With that, he sticks his tongue between his teeth, which he sometimes does unconsciously when something demands his full attention. And the perilous task of climbing should get his full attention, given how often he stumbles when both of his feet are on the ground. God, Derek is about to witness his idiot boyfriend fall to his death or something.

Stiles heaves himself mostly onto the awning, clawing for purchase with a grunt. When he reaches for the window, he loses his grip, nearly sliding backward onto the grass; in a flash of panic, Derek grabs him by his shirt and yanks him forward.

“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” he demands, aware of their volume and even more aware of their audience.

The awning rattles as Stiles draws up his long legs to slip inside the window feet first, ducking under the sash. He’s panting a little as he pulls himself upright, though he bats his eyes sweetly in the face of Derek’s scowl. “Oh, please. I knew you’d catch me. ‘My hero,’ and all that.”

“Should have let you fall and die,” Derek retorts, shutting the window.

“Probably. Oh man, that was so athletic. Sometimes, I amaze myself.”

Derek doesn’t have anything smart to say to that. He’s only half paying attention, too busy bracing for the discussion sure to follow.

He and Stiles may as well have stomped up and down the stairs blowing air horns as far as the rest of the house goes. Everyone will have heard. Derek is absolutely sure because you can hear a pin drop, like no one’s even moving, like everyone’s waiting with bated breath—either gleeful or judgmental or both—to hear what comes next. Even Laura’s deafening headphones have gone silent. Fuck.

Worst of all…Stiles doesn’t know any of this. He doesn’t yet know about the secret the Hale family hides, or how keenly they can hear, or that every word he says will be seized up and cheerfully dissected and gossiped about in real time.

Read the rest on AO3

[gruvu]

With Dust 2 ongoing, now we can flash back to Dust 1. With our favorite werewolf Politian who may or may not be the mayor by now.  

[seeminglydark]

Angy Werewolf

Showing a friend wips, and mentioned I like how I drew Were!John with scruff down his back and they were like 'he can raise his hackles' and my brain just went to the ugly groom mlp art going around lately and I envisioned John like this and I can't stop laughing, so you get it too. Ily.

[anonymous-dentist]

And now the poor thing about Loboier is that he still hurts from when his human form was stabbed. The wound itself is actually completely healed from now, but Loboier still can't move too fast without his entire body hurting. But it's basically all psychosomatic, it's all in his head. If he's distracted enough by something exciting, like when he had to save Cellbit in the woods from Wolf Missa, then he's just fine. But on an average full moon in the yard? He Hurts :(