#(but transformers have no teeth don't they?)

[strwberri-milk]

Hello! I'm curious if you have any general headcanons about Rafayel's full Lemurian form? I know we've only gotten glimpses in the main story but I was wondering if you had any sort of desires or expectations around what he would look like? Act like? Is he comfortable being in that form around reader? Would he ever be intimate in that form? If you don't have any strong thoughts or feelings about it that's fine! You have such good takes I'd love to see what you thought before we all hopefully get a reveal someday. Wish you well!

i want them to show us his lemurian form one day and talk more about him being a siren/murdering people :(

Rafayel wants to be comfortable in his Lemurian form around you, he just doesn't really know how to. He knows it can be a bit scary, especially if he lets the transformation go all the way, so he tries to sit in a happy medium and slowly acclimate you to what he can fully look like when underwater.

I'm of the idea that I want him to look a little more...anamalistic. Webbed hands, scales that climb up and down his torso and face, fin-like ears and eyes that are made to see well in the dark. He's also got sharp teeth, suited for a diet that makes it easier for him to cut through tough scales and enough bite force to bite through most shellfish should the need arise.

I like the idea as well that he can control how far he transforms. He'll make it a little more palatable at first, just showing you him with his tail and keeping his gills and other parts hidden away from you. Slowly he'll add more and more over time and if you ask him what it's for, he'll explain it to you if he knows what the part's function is.

He's also a little skittish around you. He's shy about showing you what he really looks like and is very afraid that he'll scare you off. He hides and swims around in the water as though he doesn't know what he's doing, eyes just barely poking out of the water's surface as you try to persuade him to loosen up. It'll take some time for him to be fully comfortable but he'll get there one day.

[l0s3rd0wnt0wn]

but now i’m thinking of a twilight au where reader mom is from the tribe and is a shifter, image her moving back to folks and being welcome by the pack?? the batfamily trying to find her and find her at the pack.

adopted by sam and emily, dating someone ( maybe a vampire or a werewolf or connor or ALL??) IMAGEEE. l

"SHEWOLF"

I LOVE THIS ASK!!!(can you tell I'm a supernatural fan?)

Werewolf!reader is as cute as she is dangerous. Her eyes are so bright, they are petrifying. Her teeth are razor-sharp; her nails could cut down any unsuspecting victim. When reader was younger, she couldn't control her shifting; half the time, she would be in full wolf form, tearing up couches and pillows, maybe even clothes. But how could your mom be mad at you? Your absolutely adorable amber eyes, black fur, and wagging tail—she couldn't stay angry for long. And you sneeze; your wolf ears pop out, the same with your tail. You're the youngest of the pack, and it was even worse because you were the smallest. The little pup who can't go hunting cuz "she'll slow us down." But when you got older, you had the most insane growth spurt, making your cousins jealous because you towered over them in wolf and werewolf form without even trying. Even in human form, you're taller, and the reader has some dog-like aspects she'll never grow out of. Like when living with the Waynes, they didn't want to wrestle at all, saying that's for kids. But you need to let off steam, and what's better than letting off steam with wrestling? You and your cousin used to go crazy wrestling in wolf form, destroying most of your mom's furniture. But when Jason hears you whine like a puppy because he won't wrestle with you, he ends up giving in and gets surprised at how strong you are, wolf form or not. You're on top of him, screaming again! You connect with Damian's animals a lot. Titus snarled at you once, and you scared the poor dog away with a growl. You apologized quickly afterward. Alfred, the cat is scared of you; he has no clue what you are, but he knows you're not human. You try your hardest not to scare him to death, but he runs away from you every time. You want to cry. "Ha! He's scared of you!" Duke says with a laugh, but your eyes are droopy and turned down with sadness. "Why?" When the bats first see the transformation into a werewolf and then back to human, they are horrified, shocked, and confused. Except Bruce; he's a little surprised. "You would grow to be that big! I didn't mention it, but your werewolf form is a little uncanny valley-like; you're somewhere between girl, monster, and wolf. It's like a cute little Monster High doll—something you'd see on Supernatural. And when you shift into a wolf, it's kinda odd because you're bigger than the average wolf—way bigger and heavier—but there's something strangely human about you. Barbara says your eyes look so human when you're a wolf, and how when you bark or howl, it sounds like words. But don't let them watch you eat after a successful hunt; they'll be traumatized. Duke, when looking for you (because you've been in the woods too long), just sees you in the middle of gnawing at a deer, ripping the meat right off the bone. Bloodshot eyes, sharp teeth wet with drool and blood, ears pointed down as blood covers your snout. He's completely paralyzed until you speak, 'Duuuke…'" It's like a mixture of a growl and a rasp. He'll have some nightmares after that, but your excuse, "I was hungry," won't work. One time, you came home to the manor with a moose carcass, saying, "Dinner!" Expecting Alfred to cook it, and he couldn't say no when you were staring, whimpering, and pouting. You're my favorite person to hunt with; Cass is a great runner. You've inherited your pack and tribe, meaning you'll soon be the one taking care of it, and you honestly can't wait. But the elders aren't ready to let you go—not now, not ever. So what do they do? They give you a small rosary cross necklace that stops you from shifting for a minute. It's 10% silver, but not enough to hurt you—just enough to leave you in human form. But you can't leave a wild animal caged for long.

[creativecuquilu]

Wheelie, over eating is bad for you.

But I'm in great shape!

[chibiveneficus]

the first scene of Ninth chapter 98 by Kyn has lived rent free in my head for nearly a year

[zipmode]

Des Bat Sketches ^_^ trying to get better at drawing their bat form LOL

[drpicklesart]

I was just trying to figure out how I want to draw everybody but I had L04 on and it turned into the bit at the end

[wyverwithy]

therian/nonhuman chris and martin who sometimes use their creature power suits for species euphoria

[whatudottu]

Thinking about fucked up dead people clone human Predaking again- have a gaunt but muscular dragon!

[laika-lycan]

Why won't they just let me be a wolf again :(?

[tachyon-omlette]

1, 3, 7, 11, and 14.

1. does your oc have any motifs?

-> grief & longing & being othered & having to find a place of belonging in spite of everything in order to live instead of survive. I think that's some motif shit. it's what I carry over across continuities, at least

3. is your character an indoor or outdoor person?

-> outdoor person. he is a big fan of nature & can't fit into most interior spaces anyway

7. what is the thing your oc likes the most about themselves?

-> he taught himself to play music by adjusting his vents & blowing air/steam/smoke through them. sounds a lil like pipe organ music

11. has your OC ever fallen in love and with whom?

-> yes, with Quintus Prima-Vectorum, but no one else thereafter

14. An embarrassing secret about your OC?

-> if you can figure out how to get him intoxicated, he is an unbelievably sad & schmoopy drunk

[dental1234]

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[taintandviolent]

sin creeps in ; Nosferatu x Reader

summary: You're plagued by heinous nightmares of a mysterious monster, but you can't help but feel drawn to he who plagues you.

word count & w a r n i n g s: 1.5K | female reader, monster fucking, vampires, vampire sex, bloodplay, biting, drinking blood / blood loss, mentions of death, making out, smut, unprotected sex, mentions of accents, shadow play (fingering)????.

a/n: MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS FOR NOSFERATU 2024! this is just.... listen, I'm not even going to try to justisfy myself. rack up yet another hear me out moment for me. you either understand or you don't. shorter than I wanted it to be, but I needed to get this out and sate my hunger. banner by @/strangergraphics!

↓ full fic under cut! ↓ / playlist here / ao3 link here! / I don’t have a taglist anymore, but please turn on post notifications if you’d like to be notified of future fics!

You awake with a strangled gasp, your hands flying to your throat as your breath gradually returns. The nightmares had roused you, as they had every night, but this time, something lingered. Your room was frigid; the gauzy curtains fluttered in front of the open window like misplaced ghosts, allowing the chill of the night to penetrate your quarters. Everything looks terrifying at night; familiar shapes are transformed into horrible spectres, and your very room feels unknown. Unsafe. 

He is here. For the first time in several nights, you weren’t dreaming – he has come for you.

“I know that you are here with me,” you bravely whisper into the emptiness of your own bedroom. The wind whistled, a familiar sound, but something growled – growled in a language you didn’t speak, but understood. The voice was low, gravelly, and heavily accented. 

Hurriedly, you kick the sheets from your legs. The moonlight pales your skin, washing you in its blanch, bluish tone. Gripping your gown with both hands, you gather it up your thighs, exposing them to the cold. The chill of the wind hits your center, and you hiss through your teeth. Your head drops to your chest, and so does your gaze, watching patiently. At the edge of your bed, a large, slender shadow manifests. Him. 

You dare not look up. The feeling of his presence petrifies you, but also arouses you – letting a slick warmth pool deeply between your legs. 

The shadows continue to creep further up your bed, until they reach your feet, which twitch in response. Up, up, up… along your shins. Your skin prickles, and you shiver, doing your best to remain calm. Though he doesn’t touch you, you feel him. You feel every pass of his large hand as it makes its way up your body. His shadow glides over your hip, to your stomach and finally between your plump breasts, coming to a stop over your beating heart. It thumps away like a rabbit’s heart underneath the blackness of his form, and you hear a ragged, strained groan.

Then, with no warning, it moves down, leaving a cold, lifeless chill in its path like a gust of winter wind. You pant, desperately clinging to what breath you have. All at once, the shadow envelopes the soft, warm mound between your legs and your hands fall to the bed, bracing yourself. You have felt his ghostly touches for countless nights, tasting your body as a lover would, but each time your body climbed the peak, the sensations disappeared.  He comes to you in dreams, always leaving you unsatisfied. Your chest heaves in the night, cold droplets of sweat peppering your decollete and breasts. Your hands claw the sheets while you dream, but never reach euphoria.

Tonight, there are new sensations. The phantom wisp of his middle finger runs along the length of your slit. Grazing it. Somehow, you feel his finger part your wet folds, toying with your most sensitive areas. The nonexistent pads of his fingers sweep back and forth over your swelling clit, bringing a spasmodic twitch from each of your muscles. Wanting. Craving. While the sensation lacks the familiar warmth of a living man, it is bountiful with pleasurable feelings – your body responds embarrassingly; your shoulders shudder violently. 

He inhales, a deeply hollow sound. “You desire this… thine own body craves it….” 

The accent seems to fill his entire mouth, rumbling in his throat as he speaks slowly, drawing out each word like an incantation. You let out a plaintive moan, throwing your head back against the pillows, the down feathers crackling underneath you. As though he’s still pleasuring you, your hips writhe back and forth, practically convulsing with need. The shadow of his hand is gone from your body, replaced by the looming darkness of his physical form. After a moment of trepidation, you finally lift your head, and stare into the dark, terrifying eyes that watch you. 

You swallow hard. “I do.” 

A moment passes before you continue. “Take me as you will, for I am yours.” You consent again, desperate to convey your own insatiable hunger, your unimaginable need. 

Another intake of breath from him – it almost sounds labored, painful. His footsteps are dreadful as he moves around to the side of your bed. He’s tall, his form stretching towards the ceilings and towering over you, consuming your atmosphere as he had in your nightmares. His silhouette is large; enhanced by the countless furs he has on.

Weightlessly, his lithe, ghastly fingers reach for you and make contact with your form. They are cold, and the icy feeling of them penetrate the thin fabric of your nightgown. He moves gradually, but hungrily, feeling the curves of your body beneath the cotton. As he moves southward, his fingers skim over the peak of your breast, a nail catching on the swollen nipple. It hurts, but your chest jerks forward still, craving more of his touch. 

Pulling a breathy moan from deep within your throat, his long, sharp nails rake across the tender flesh of your thigh. It’s bathed in the silvery moonlight, which casts horrible, elongated shadows of his fingers down towards your center. He scrapes downward, his middle finger digging into the flesh enough to leave a reddened streak behind, but not so much to break the skin.

“P-please…” you mewl, looking up into his horrifying visage. The sight of him fills you with dread and disgust, but like a single drop of blood in water, it’s tainted with something else, something else that has been lingering in your system for days. 

He’s above you now, though you don’t remember seeing him move atop of you. Still, he’s there. The bed creaks as you push yourself into the mattress, whimpering underneath him. He lowers himself down onto you, the brush of his mustache tickles your face as he lingers above you. A second passes and his waiting mouth envelops yours. He tastes damp and cold, faintly of ash and earth. His tongue slips out and it too is cold, slipping wetly along your own and along your bottom lip. His kiss is dreadful, but possessive, and he inhales each time you exhale, as though he’s trying to suck the very warmth out of you. No man has kissed you the way Count Orlok kisses you, and the chill of the room disappears, snuffed out by the fire that rages in your lower abdomen. 

Your tongues collide with each other; you tasting his lifelessness, and him tasting your utterly intoxicating, vibrant liveliness. For a moment, the two of you stay intertwined at the mouth until he separates himself, smearing his mouth over the warmth of your neck. He hovers, pausing over your pulse. It thrums under his lips, and his hips urge into yours, indicating his hunger.

There is a shuffle, a rustling of clothing. You try to lift your head up to gaze between your bodies, but his hand holds you fast, pressing you against the pillow. The size of his hand is staggering; his palm underneath your chin, while the fingertips extend past your hairline, into the strands. You shudder again and whisper his name. He inhales as though he plans to speak, but doesn’t. 

The front of your nightgown falls apart, revealing your chest to him. With one hand covetously clutching your breast, his mouth opens between your breasts, the slithery coolness of his tongue gliding down along the length of your sternum. As the teeth puncture your flesh, your hands make fists on either side of your body, pulling the sheets into the confines of your palms. He enters you, in more ways than one, and you feel the steady tug of his mouth as he sucks the blood from your veins. Warmth pools in the cave of your stomach.

The fingers of his other hand crawl up your shoulder, and like a quill in ink, he dips the pads of his fingers into the hollow of your chest, coating them in your crimson essence. He smears the blood along your decollete, along the hem of your nightgown, tugging it harshly over your shoulder. The blood coats you in a flash of warmth, and then chill as it meets the cold air. 

His hips rut against yours as he drinks, the pulse of your blood matching the thrust of his hips. An ache starts in your neck, a slow pulling sensation that has your eyelids fluttering. He moves within you, his length penetrating as deeply as his sharpened teeth have. Your release is found amongst blood and groans and that same language which you understand, but do not speak. His tongue scrubs at your soft skin, lapping up the blood as it comes… as you do. 

The darkness is ever-looming, and as your aching cunt ebbs its throbbing, it settles down upon you. You let yourself fall backwards into the abyss, freely. It takes you, wrapping its arms around your tiny frame which is dwarfed by his stature. His mouth breaks free of your bloodied skin with a slick pop.  Into the softness of your skin, you hear him growl, ‘Mine.’ The feeling vibrates against your neck, and your lids flutter shut.

[ddejavvu]

hi!! ik this is a weird request but maybe after the animagus reader shifts back into a human they have sharp canines like in cat form but in human form and sirius and the boys are surprised by it and keep trying to ask the reader about it and inspect them?

Sirius has long since known the bite of your feline fangs, several pinprick scars on his body telling those stories. But he's never quite noticed that you retain the sharpened canines after transforming back to your human form, and he rather unceremoniously grabs your jaw to inspect his findings.

"Holy shit," He announces, cutting off what you were saying both with a hand grabbing your jaw, and the way that he talks over you, "You've got fangs, Y/N!"

"Aah! Yes, I've got- fangs," You huff, wrenching your jaw out of his grip, "And I've got the rest of my story to tell, too, if you don't mind!"

"I do mind," He waves away your indignance, "Prongs, come look't this!"

James is all-too-happy to squat where Sirius sits beside you on his bed, peering quizzically into your mouth, "Bloody hell, you're right! Y/N, have your teeth always been this sharp?"

"Yes," You gripe, as James reaches in between your lips to feel the point of your canines, "But I'm sure they could be even sharper if I bit you all for sticking your fingers in my mouth."

"Careful, Prongs." Sirius urges, tugging James's hand away from your mouth, "She's bit me before- in both forms. Those things hurt."

"S'funny," Remus muses, splayed out on his bed with a record player between his legs, "She's never bitten me before. Might be because I don't put my fingers in her mouth, or cut off her stories."

"Thank you, Remus." You sigh, free to enjoy your own personal space now that James and Sirius have sequestered themselves on the former's bed, surely fearing a rabid attack, "I'm glad there's one sensible person living in this dorm."

"Sensible is no fun." James and Sirius recite like a mantra, and you're surprised the pair hasn't gotten it tattooed as a life motto, "Now get ready, Y/N, we're gonna hunt down some cardboard so we can see how well you'd function as a hole-punch."

[julymusings]

PORTRAIT

jason hates taking photos. it's a shame you find him so beautiful.

Jason Todd isn’t one to take pictures. Standing there with a fake smile, posing for a deceptively happy vignette of an unhappy reality feels awkward. He never knows what to do with his hands. He doesn’t like the way his face translates through the lens; the green of his eyes glows just this side of too spectral, his broad, stocky frame towers over that of his siblings, and the scars on his face bring memories of a darker time, an intentional carelessness for his life he used to carry. He leans away when others huddle together to smile. Pretends to notice something behind him when caught in the background of the lens.

Enter you. Only capable of looking at him with hearts in your eyes. Serving on a silver platter what he used to starve and scavenge for in dimly lit bars on the lips of women who only saw him as something to sink their teeth into and then spit out, never sticking around for longer than one night. Jason feasted at first, he’ll admit, stuffing himself to sickness on your unconditional adoration until it was almost too much to bear.

You take pictures of him and gush over them, telling him how pretty he is. How he belongs in a museum. He never believed you, never bothering to actually look at the pictures you take. But pretty soon he’s everywhere; you set him as your lock screen and screensaver, and print photos to frame on your bedside table. When your storage is maxed out, you steal Jason’s phone to flood his camera roll, and he finds that he keeps going back to stare at the photos you take. Selfies where you kiss his cheek and his mouth curves upward just enough to transform him from brooding to disarming; portraits where he looks, not at the camera, but just beyond and his eyes crinkle, the tips of his sharp canines peeking out over his bottom lip. He looks…different. Better. He starts to believe the things you tell him; his beauty is ancient. Michelangelo himself carved the contours of his body. The Trojans and the Greeks fought for a decade over him.

But what is it about this camera, he wonders, that makes his appearance digestible? Is it the way you frame him front and center, the backlighting sun rays extending in all directions behind him, encircling him with a holiness he doesn’t deserve? The scenery against which you capture him, busy nighttime streets under city lights, just dark enough to smooth out his rough edges? 

Or maybe it’s just you. Seeing himself from your point of view. Seeing himself as yours. His hooked nose, crooked from being broken one too many times, belongs to you for the early mornings when you trace down the bridge, around his lips, and up his jaw, drawing a portrait with your fingertips. His unruly hair, with streaks of white that make him stick out like a sore thumb, exists only for you to run your fingers through when he lays his head in your lap. His scars are for you to kiss on those difficult days until he can bear to look in the mirror again. He wants nothing more than to be a museum of all things you.

Jason Todd isn’t one to take pictures. But when you ask so nicely, showering him with compliments and promises of thank-you-kisses later on, how can he say no?

why are we as a society still striving for more definition and higher quality photos for anything other than, like, x-ray imaging and space exploration. I don't want 8k ultra-max hd in my phone that highlights every hair and pore and eye bag i want grainy and dark and fuzzy because it makes me look hotter and that's a fact. rant over

anyway he's so pretty i wanna take candids of him and kiss his face and squeeze his huge ti-*GUNSHOTS*

this is gonna be my last post for the next few weeks because i have finals. see you on the other side🫡 (born to be a farmer on a remote island, forced to study STEM) i'll be on requests as soon as i'm back trust

[whereserpentswalk]

Reblog to receive your transformation, look under the cut to find out what it feels like to transform.

Vampire: You can feel it, slowly changing you since you were first bitten by that creature. You felt stronger at first, not needing to eat, not needing to sleep. It was like the burdens of a human form were lifted from you. The only thing you needed was to drink blood, which isn't that hard to come by. Then the physical transformations began, your body becoming slenderer and more androgynous, until soon you barely are recognizable. One day you wake up and your eyes are pure black, slowly your mouth grows sharp teeth, and special joints and seams in your flesh that allow you to open it into a massive mess of fangs and teeth but close it back up into something humanoid if you want it to. As the last of your humanity goes away, your sex characteristics and body hair entirely disappears, leaving you feeling wonderfully smooth. Perhaps in the past this body would be disturbing to you, you barely look like yourself, but now, looking at yourself and feeling so much more confident, this just feels like you, like what you are meant to be.

Incorporeal: You've lost yourself. You can't feel anything. No skin, no blood, no organs. You can only really sense the vague nature of the room your spirit is inhabiting. If you want to move you just think of yourself as going to that location, and if you want to pick something up you just think of yourself as lifting it. Even your appearance is no more than a sort of hologram, able to be changed at but a thought. You feel strangely comfortable this way. Nothing can hurt you now. It takes a bit of time, you have to focus on how you look a bit to look in a way that feels really you, but it eventually feels way more like you then anything in your old body did. It's weird, your old form just felt like a vessel that you needed, but in leaving it you feel entirely free, like you just don't need that type of body anymore. You look at your old body, lying dead upon the floor, and you can't help but know that that just isn't you anymore.

Lycanthrope: It was slow harnessing the changes. The werewolf who bit you didn't tell you much when she passed on her curse. It's something you can work will, you slowly figured out how to harness small changes, modular yet more modular as time passes on. You can just give yourself the eyes, or ears, or teeth, or feet, if you need to by now. Decide exactly what is wolf and what is human. It's more normal not that you realize how fluid your body is, that every part is just a single state that part can be in and not it's permanent fate. You can choose how much of a wolf you are at any time and that's fine and normal now. And sometimes you like fully being a wolf, like how it feels to run on all fours, how it feels to taste meat freshly on your teeth, how it feels to howl at the moon. You also like being a full human at other times, especially now that that doesn't constrain you anymore. Most of the time you're just something else though. Most of the time you're just you, not wolf or human but something your own.

Cyborg: You can feel parts of your body being cut away. You don't know why but it doesn't bother you as much as you thought it would. Your legs being painlessly sliced off, those legs that hurt when you walked on them. You can feel your torso having it's organs slowly drained out of it, no more stomach pain as you have no more stomach, no more shortness of breath as your lungs become medical waste. Your fat and muscles and bone are cut from your body, leaving your body type null. A mask of sorts is closed over your skull as the skin of your face, a face you were once stuck with for your entire life, is finally taken away. And in your discarded body parts place new mechanical parts are added, and these parts are finally your own, you picked out the designs, you control exactly how they look, the art style that your new body will be drawn in, the form your form will be able to take. And if there's anything you dislike, it can always be replaced, you can't be trapped in your body anymore, and you can't be hurt by it now.

Melted: You can feel your new form, slowly writhing like the slimes you felt before did. You have no distinct parts, no bones, no limbs, no organs. All you have is the form. It feels weird, you see and feel so much differently now it can barely feel like seeing or feeling at all. It's like playing with goo in your hands, but you don't have hands anymore. Slowly but surely, you sculpt yourself a new appearance, allowing your body to be something to thrive in instead of just something to survive within. You can't control your color but everything else is up to you. It's like sculpting, even limbs and heads and eyes are all metaphors when it comes to this new universal substance that is your form. You're not sure how others will see you when you're something so strange, but you like what this means for yourself, at least for now.

Flight: Your arms have slowly been stretched out, each of your fingers longer than your entire arm once was on both hands, and this strange tight skin between them. Your body is strong in some places, but weirdly skinny in others, it all feels so different, so new. Your feet have been changed to work more like hands, now that your arms can't be used to grasp, and walking is no longer as much of a requirement for you. You feel weird, like everything is there, but it's hard to see how it all fits together. Still, now that you do get to fly it's wonderful, seeing the ground below you, seeing the sky above you, feeling so free while you're completely in the air, seeing how impressed everyone is looking at you doing that. Maybe it was worth it. Despite how much it takes getting used to you don't dislike how any of it feels, and despite what some people might think of it, it feels so nice to be able to just go through the air like that without anything restraining you anymore. You wouldn't go back at the very least.

Mind upload: You can't feel anything. But you can see, the image of what you'd expect a computer monitor to display take up the totality of your vision. You can't feel a mouse or keyboard or anything, but you can move the cursor as much as you once could move limbs. If you hadn't asked for this it would seem like the worst of punishments, but this was your desire. You can look at any website you want, and no longer do you have to worry about time, about food, about sleep. You can contact anyone online just as you once did, without any breaks. The mortal world is no longer your worry.

Limbs become longer: You know you won't be like the other giants; you'll be somewhat in-between, you're not sure if you are thankful of that fact or not. It's a lot to deal with either way. You can feel you skin and bone stretching oddly, your arms and legs doubling then tripling in their length. It hurts but you can think of all the ways you won't be human anymore. You won't fit into most spaces; you'll need certain accommodations. But you still want this despite everything that it implies. It feels strange when your torso changes, with your limbs it's just bone that's moving, but with this you can feel your organs extending and changing. Too late to change things now. You wonder how people will see you? Will they be scared? Maybe that's what you want from them now?

Pyromancy: You can feel the burning inside you now. Even when you don't focus on it in any way it's in you, your warmth, your blood always hot, the feeling with every breath that you could shoot out fire. Other people with powers need to learn how to extend them to be actually useful, not you, you had to learn how to keep yours under control. It just feels right, to be able to use fire, to feel the fire as part of your body whenever you pass by any. You find yourself fidgeting with it easily, letting the fire move alongside you, because it's just so natural. You'll light up a bit in your hands, or around your face, in the middle of conversation. It doesn't burn you anymore, it feels good, it feels better than almost anything else you've felt in your life to feel fire on your body now. A few people are afraid, but you try to keep yourself calm. Even so, it feels so good to let it burst out of you, to shoot balls of fire into the air, or breath it from your mouth, it's hard to go a long time without doing something like that. It's not just something you have but it's part of you, it's part of you that was always meant to be there perhaps.

Frog: You slowly feel yourself shrink down. It dawns on you that you're going to change a lot. But you've said your last goodbyes to your humanity either way. You can feel your hair and teeth falling out, your bones reshaping and getting smaller and more delicate. Your biology completely changing. It's a lot to get used to and it all happens within a few seconds. For a moment you're worried you'll lose your human mind, but it just doesn't happen, mentally, emotionally, you're entirely the same as you always were. But you don't have to worry about human things anymore. Frogs don't have to work jobs, or pay taxes, or pay rent, you're allowed to finally just be. When you choose to go naked, and walk on all fours, you don't even have to let on that you're human at all anymore. You can exist in peace as long as you exist and forgo the responsibility of human things unless you choose to want them.

Demon: You feel the last of your human blood get replaced with the blood of that creature. It hurts for a moment, but then you stop feeling such pain, you feel a tyle of prowess you haven't felt before. Your eyes glow, you can just feel that they glow now. Your human form begins to change, perfectly growing into your ideal body type and look, and everything feels so right. And then things go beyond just that human form. Horns grow from your head, and your teeth grow sharp, you can always feel them, even when you aren't paying attention, and it makes you feel so very cool. Your reproductive organs are replaced with a neck and head of a serpent, completely genderless, but more able to feel pleasure somehow. Wings grow on your back, and you flex them, feeling the strangeness and wonder of having new limbs and joints. You grow a scorpion like tail from the base of your spine, that equally feels so strange and wonderful and new to move. You can shapeshift back into any human form when you need to, you can even effect what people do and don't recognize as your old self, but this form, your truly demonic form, that's what truly feels like it's you.

Murder: you can kill now. No description needed.

[jenniferspet]

TW DUB-CON, KNOTTING, PASSING OUT and BULLYING

Werewolf Bully x Shy Human Nerd

In the quiet corridors of the local library, a young woman named Y/N worked tirelessly to organize the stacks of books. She had always found solace in the gentle rustle of pages and the smell of aged paper, a stark contrast to the chaotic world outside. Her glasses slid down her nose as she bent over, her hair cascading in waves around her shoulders. Y/N's eyes darted from title to title, a silent pattern of knowledge playing in her mind.

One book, however, caught her eye—a worn leather-bound tome titled "Lycanthropy and the Modern World." It was a subject that had always intrigued her, but she had never dared to delve into it. With trembling hands, she pulled it from the shelf and sat at the nearest table, the book feeling surprisingly warm against her skin. As she began to read, she heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps echoing through the library.

The footsteps grew closer, and she recognized the heavy, deliberate tread as belonging to Grey, the school's resident werewolf and notorious bully. He sauntered down the aisle, his eyes scanning the rows of books before settling on her. A cruel smile played across his lips as he approached. "Whatcha reading, nerd?" he sneered, snatching the book from her grasp. He flipped through the pages, his eyes widening at the content. "Oooh, a book about furry little monsters like me," he said with mock fascination.

Y/N felt a flush of embarrassment creep up her neck. He held the book up, showing the illustrations of werewolves mid-transformation. The other students who had been quietly studying in the library began to gather around, drawn by the sudden tension.

"You know," Grey said, leaning in closer. "I bet you've got some wild fantasies about us beasts, don't you?" His breath was hot on her face, and she could smell the faint scent of his inner animal—a scent that was both terrifying and oddly alluring. "You want to know what it's like, don't you?" His eyes gleamed with a mischief that sent a shiver down her spine.

The crowd of students snickered, and Y/N felt her cheeks burn with humiliation. She tried to stand, to grab the book back, but Grey was too quick. He held it high above his head, just out of reach. "Come on," he taunted, "aren't you curious?" His voice grew softer, a low growl rumbling beneath the words. The other students took a step back, sensing the shift in his demeanor.

Y/N swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her chest. "I—I don't know what you're talking about," she stammered, her voice shaking. But Grey's smile only grew wider, his teeth sharp and gleaming in the harsh library lights. "Oh, I think you do," he said, his eyes locking onto hers. "I can smell it on you." He leaned in closer, his nose almost touching her cheek. "You're scared, but you're also... excited."

The snickers from the surrounding students grew louder, and Y/N felt her face burn with shame. She knew that Grey could detect the scent of fear and arousal, and she was both terrified and infatuated by the power he held over her. "P-please," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the din. "Stop." But Grey was relentless. He tossed the book onto the table, letting it fall open to a particularly graphic illustration. "Look at this," he said, pointing at the drawing of a werewolf mounting a human. "Is this what you think about when you're all alone?"

The library, once a sanctuary of silence, was now filled with the sound of Grey's taunts and the cruel laughter of her peers. She desperately wished for the floor to swallow her whole, but instead, she found herself trapped in his gaze. He leaned in, his breath hot against her ear. "You want me to show you, don't you?" His voice was low and seductive, a stark contrast to the harshness of his earlier words. "You want to know what it's like to have a real beast claim you."

The words were like a slap in the face, and Y/N's eyes snapped up to meet his, filled with a mix of anger and humiliation. "Please, stop," she begged, her voice trembling. But Grey wasn't in the mood to listen. He grabbed her wrist, pulling her to her feet, the book falling to the ground with a thud. His grip was firm, his skin hot against hers. The room spun as she tried to pull away, but his strength was unyielding.

With a sudden twist, he let go, sending her stumbling backward. She reached out, trying to catch herself, but her arms flailed in the air as she lost her balance. The impact with the cold, hard ground was jarring, and she let out a gasp of pain. The laughter grew around her, a cacophony of cruel mirth that seemed to echo off the bookshelves. She felt the tears sting at the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them back, refusing to give Grey the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

Her gaze fell on the open book, and she saw her opening—a brief moment of distraction in Grey's taunts as he watched her fall. In a flash of desperation, she scrambled to her feet, grabbing her glasses from the floor where they had fallen. Without a second glance at her abandoned bag and the scattered contents, she bolted toward the exit. The heavy library door swung open with a groan, and she dashed into the fading sunlight, her heart racing in her chest.

The cool evening breeze kissed her flushed cheeks as she sprinted down the cobblestone path, the sound of her sneakers echoing through the deserted streets. The laughter and the smell of the library faded behind her, replaced by the scent of earth and the promise of freedom. Her chest heaved with every breath, and she could feel the panic start to subside with each step she put between herself and the nightmare she'd left behind.

Y/N didn't dare look back, fearing that Grey would be right there, chasing her with his monstrous form. She had heard the whispers of his transformation, the horror stories of his unbridled rage. But she had never seen it herself, not in person. The thought of his powerful, animalistic body bearing down on her made her stomach clench with a mix of fear and unwelcome arousal.

Her feet carried her to the safety of the town square, where the fountain's gentle spray provided a sense of peace amidst the chaos in her mind. She collapsed onto the edge, her chest heaving. The cool stone felt like ice against her burning skin, grounding her in reality. The world around her was a blur, a cacophony of sounds and lights that seemed so far removed from the quiet library she had just escaped.

As she sat there, trying to catch her breath, she felt a strange tug deep within her. It was as if the very air around her was thickening, weighing her down with an inexplicable heaviness. A shadow fell over her, and she looked up to see Grey standing before her, the corners of his mouth lifted in a predatory smile.

"You're not going anywhere," he said, his voice low and menacing. "Not until I've had my fun with you."

Y/N's eyes widened with horror as she took in the sight of him. His pupils had dilated, the irises swirling with an eerie amber light. His posture had changed, shoulders broader and hunched, his muscles tensing beneath his school jacket. She knew what was coming, and she didn't have the strength to fight him.

"Grey, please," she whimpered, her voice cracking. "Not here."

But he was in no mood for mercy. With a swift movement, he bent down and scooped her up in his arms, his strength surprisingly gentle despite the malicious glint in his eyes. She felt her body go limp with resignation as he carried her to a sleek, black car parked at the edge of the square. The engine purred to life as he opened the door, tossing her inside without ceremony. The cool leather seat was a stark contrast to the warmth of his body, and she shivered as he slammed the door shut.

Her heart raced as he climbed into the driver's seat, the sound of his door echoing in the quiet night like a gunshot. The interior of the car was filled with the scent of his cologne, something musky and primal that seemed to cling to the air. He turned to her, his eyes still glowing with that unnerving amber light. "You're mine," he growled, starting the engine. "And I'll show you what it truly means to be with a werewolf."

The car sped through the deserted streets, the world outside a blur of lights and shadows. Y/N felt a strange mix of dread and anticipation building in her stomach, her body responding to the situation in a way she had never expected. The anticipation grew with every mile they drove away from the safety of the town, her heart pounding in time with the rhythm of the car's engine.

When they reached the edge of the forest, Grey pulled the car to a halt, the headlights piercing through the dense foliage. He turned to her, his features twisted into a snarl. "Get out," he barked, and she complied, her legs shaking as she stumbled out of the car. The moon had risen high in the sky, casting a silvery light over the clearing, illuminating Grey's form as he began to strip off his shirt.

Y/N's eyes were wide with fear, but she couldn't tear her gaze away from his body. His muscles rippled and stretched, bones popping and reshaping as he transformed before her very eyes. His limbs elongating into powerful paws. His teeth grew sharp, and his eyes burned with a fierce, animal hunger.

The transformation was both terrifying and mesmerizing. She had read about it in her books, but the reality was so much more intense than any description could ever capture. The car door slammed shut, and she jumped, the sound jolting her out of her trance. Grey was fully shifted now, his monstrous form towering over her, the embodiment of every nightmare she had ever had.

He took a step forward, his paws thudding on the soft earth, and she took a step back, her eyes never leaving his. The fear in her chest grew, a heavy weight that threatened to crush her. "P-please," she stuttered again, her voice barely more than a whisper. "Don't do this.”

But the beast that was Grey didn't listen to her pleas. His eyes gleamed with a mix of excitement and malice as he stalked closer, his nose flaring to take in her scent. She could see the raw hunger in his gaze, and she knew that she was prey in the most primal sense of the word.

The forest around them was eerily silent, as if all the creatures knew to stay clear of the predator in their midst. Y/N's back hit a tree, the rough bark digging into her skin as she realized she had nowhere left to run. She looked up at the towering werewolf, her breaths coming in short gasps. The fear was overwhelming, but so was the heat pooling between her legs, a traitorous response to the primal power that stood before her.

Grey's nose twitched as he inhaled her scent, his eyes never leaving hers. He knew she was afraid, but the smell of her arousal was unmistakable. It fueled his own desire, his animal instincts taking over. He took another step closer, his fur brushing against her thighs. His tail swished back and forth, a silent promise of the torment to come.

Her breath hitched, and she slammed her eyes shut, willing herself to disappear. But the warmth of his breath against her neck was undeniable, his teeth grazing her skin as he leaned in, his fur tickling her cheek. "You smell so sweet," he murmured, his voice a low, animalistic rumble. His tongue darted out, licking a path up her throat, and she shivered despite the fear.

Y/N's mind raced as his paws began to rove over her body, his claws gently scraping against the fabric of her shirt. The heat of his touch was like a brand, searing through her clothes and setting her alight with a need she didn't understand. "No," she whispered, her voice shaking. "This isn't what I want."

But Grey wasn't listening. He could smell the lie in her words, the sweet scent of her arousal betraying her. His grin grew wider, his teeth gleaming in the moonlight. He knew exactly how to play this game. He lowered his head, his nose nudging her thighs apart. "You're so wet for me," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. "You can't lie to a werewolf, little girl."

Y/N's eyes shot open in shock and horror as she felt Grey's hot breath against her skin. She tried to push him away, but his paws held her in place, his strength unyielding. He nuzzled closer, his tongue tracing a wet line up the inside of her thigh, and she gasped, her body responding despite her fear. "No," she said again, her voice shaking, but the protest was weaker this time.

Grey's grin grew wider, and he let out a low, guttural chuckle. He could sense the lie in her voice, the way her body was betraying her. He took her silence as an invitation, his tongue flicking out to tease her through the fabric of her panties. She shivered, her hands balling into fists at her sides, torn between pushing him away and giving in to the strange thrill that was building within her.

With a swift move, he ripped her skirt off, the sound of the fabric tearing echoing through the quiet forest. He was unbothered by the buttons and zipper, his paws moving with surprising dexterity. Her eyes went wide with shock, and she tried to struggle, but his grip was like iron. He lowered his face to her exposed center, his tongue swiping over the damp material, tasting the sweetness that had soaked through. Her breath hitched, and she bit her bottom lip to keep from crying out.

He could tell she was lying. Her body was singing a siren's song of desire, a symphony of pheromones that called to his primal instincts. He knew she was afraid, but fear was a delicious flavor that only enhanced the thrill of the hunt. His teeth grazed her skin, and she jolted, her hands flying to his shoulders. "Please," she begged, but her voice was thick with need, the word barely a whisper.

Ignoring her protests, he pushed her thighs apart, his snout nudging the fabric of her panties aside. The scent of her arousal was intoxicating, a potent blend of fear and lust that made his blood race. He flicked his tongue out, tasting the sweetness that coated her. She moaned softly, the sound music to his ears. He reveled in the power he had over her, the way she trembled beneath his touch.

Y/N's hands flew to his shoulders, not to push him away but to hold onto something as the world spun out of control. His tongue was a wet, warm intrusion against her, sending shockwaves of pleasure through her body. She couldn't believe she was letting this happen, couldn't believe she was responding to him like this. But the fear and the thrill were too much to resist. Her legs quivered, and she felt the first stirrings of an orgasm building deep within her.

Grey's teeth grazed the sensitive flesh of her inner thighs, his tongue lapping at her folds with a hunger that seemed to grow with every passing second. The fabric of her panties was a flimsy barrier that offered little protection from his eager mouth. Y/N's breath hitched, and she bit down on her lip to keep from screaming. She could feel the eyes of the surrounding forest on her, a silent audience to her humiliation and her unexpected pleasure.

He could smell her fear, but it was the scent of her arousal that truly excited him. His tongue grew more insistent, pushing past the barrier of her underwear to explore the slickness of her pussy. She gripped the bark of the tree behind her, her nails digging into the wood as she felt the first tremors of an unwanted climax begin to build. Her protests had turned into gasps, her body betraying her with every shiver of delight.

With a sudden, brutal yank, Grey tore her panties away, exposing her completely to the cold night air. He growled, his eyes never leaving hers as he took in the sight of her bare flesh. His paws, now tipped with deadly claws, traced up her thighs, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. "You're mine," he repeated, his voice now a deep, animalistic rumble.

He didn't give her a chance to protest again. With one swift movement, he shoved two of his claws into her, the sharpness of the intrusion making her gasp in shock and pain. The world around them faded into a blur of agony and pleasure as he began to pump them in and out, each stroke hitting a spot within her that made her vision swim. Y/N's nails dug into the bark of the tree, her legs shaking with the effort to keep herself upright.

Grey's snout nudged her thighs further apart, and he lowered his head, his tongue delving into her, lapping at her like a starved beast. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and pain that she had never experienced before. Her mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions—fear, anger, and an undeniable, traitorous desire that grew stronger with every stroke of his tongue.

Her body responded to his ministrations despite her will, and she felt her climax building, the tension coiling tightly within her. She tried to fight it, to push the feelings away, but it was like trying to hold back the tide with a single hand. The pleasure washed over her, a wave that she couldn't resist, and she screamed, the sound lost in the vastness of the forest.

As the last of her orgasm tremored through her, Grey pulled back, his tongue leaving a wet trail on her skin. His eyes gleamed with triumph, and he let out a low growl of satisfaction. He knew he had her now, that she was his to do with as he pleased. With a flick of his head, he indicated the ground before her. "On your hands and knees," he ordered, his voice still thick with his shifted vocal cords.

Y/N's legs felt like jelly, but she complied, the fear and arousal making her body feel like it didn't belong to her. She sank to the damp earth, her hands and knees sinking into the leaves and moss. The coldness of the ground seeped through her clothing, a stark contrast to the heat of her body. She felt his paws on her hips, guiding her, positioning her just right for what was to come. His teeth grazed the small of her back, a gentle reminder of the power he held over her.

With surprising gentleness, Grey began to clean her up, his rough tongue lapping away the evidence of her release. The sensation was oddly comforting, his warmth and care in that moment a stark contrast to the horror of the situation. Y/N couldn't help but lean into his touch, her body still humming with the aftershocks of pleasure. It was a brief respite from the fear that had taken over her mind.

But the reprieve was short-lived. He grew impatient, his paws gripping her hips tighter, his teeth nipping at her skin. The pain brought her back to reality with a jolt, and she tensed, her eyes squeezed shut. "P-please," she whimpered again, the word a pitiful sound that seemed to only excite him further.

Grey chuckled, the sound deep and rumbling in his chest. He knew she was his now, that she would do anything he said. He leaned over her, his hot breath on her neck as he whispered, "Beg for it, little human." The words were a challenge, a demand that sent a shiver down her spine.

With a snarl, Grey's paws pushed her down onto the damp leaves, her forehead pressing against the cold earth. The weight of his massive body was a constant reminder of his dominance, his fur brushing against her bare skin, sending goosebumps along her spine. "Beg," he growled again, his voice a dark, seductive promise of pain and pleasure. Y/N's throat tightened, and she swallowed the lump that had formed there.

Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes as she whispered, "P-please, Grey." It was the closest she could come to begging, her pride shattered by the overwhelming power he held over her. He seemed to understand, his paws shifting to stroke her hair gently, a strange tenderness that didn't belong in this twisted moment. "Good girl," he murmured, his voice almost affectionate.

The sound of his zipper was like a gunshot in the quiet of the woods, and Y/N felt her heart race even faster. His cock, thick and engorged, nudged against her, and she couldn't help the involuntary whine that escaped her. The tip was wet with precum, and she could feel it smear against her thigh as he positioned himself. "This is what you wanted," he said, his breath hot against her ear. "This is what you've been dreaming about."

The pressure grew as he pushed into her, slow and inexorable, stretching her more than she ever thought possible. The pain was intense, and she bit down on her lip to keep from screaming. But through the pain, there was something else—a spark of something that felt almost like pleasure. It was as if her body was trying to convince her that this was what she needed, what she had been searching for all along.

Grey's thrusts grew stronger, the slickness of her own arousal mixing with the pre-cum that coated his shaft, making it easier for him to slide in and out of her. She felt the ground shake beneath them with every movement, his powerful hips driving into her with a ferocity that was inhuman. And yet, she couldn't bring herself to hate him for it. The fear had given way to a strange, twisted fascination, her mind reeling with the reality of being claimed by a creature of legend.

With every thrust, she could feel her body stretching, accommodating his monstrous girth. The pain began to dull into something almost bearable, replaced by a deep, pulsing ache that seemed to resonate through her very core. And as he pushed deeper, she felt something else—a warmth spreading through her, a feeling of belonging that was as terrifying as it was exhilarating. Her own hips began to rock back against him, a silent plea for more.

Grey's breathing grew ragged, his paws digging into her hips as he picked up the pace. His teeth grazed her neck, the pressure just shy of breaking the skin. She could feel the power of his body, the unbridled strength that was now focused solely on her pleasure and his own. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she let out a soft moan, the sound lost in the symphony of the night.

"You're a pathetic little whore, aren't you?" He growled, his voice thick with lust. "Begging for it from the monster you fear." The words were like a knife to her soul, but she couldn't deny the way her body responded, arching back into him, her hips pushing back to meet every thrust. The pain had turned into a dull throb, a background to the pleasure that was rapidly building within her.

"You're just a slut for a good time," he continued, his claws digging into her hips as he slammed into her. "Look at you, taking it like you've been waiting for this all along." His words were cruel, designed to cut deep, but she found a strange solace in the harshness of his voice. It was a reminder of who she was in this moment—his prey, his conquest. And yet, she couldn't help but crave more, her body moving in sync with his, her walls tightening around his cock.

With a vicious snarl, Grey pulled out of her, the sudden emptiness making her cry out. Before she could process what was happening, he had flipped her onto her back, his fur-covered hands tearing at her shirt. The fabric gave way easily, the buttons popping off and scattering into the leaves. He paused for a moment, his eyes drinking in the sight of her bare breasts, the pale mounds quivering in the moonlight.

With a wicked grin, his claws traced gentle circles around her nipples, the sharpness of his nails a constant reminder of the violence lurking just beneath the surface. Y/N's eyes rolled back in her head, a soft moan escaping her as she felt her body respond to his touch, her breasts swelling under his ministrations. His tongue darted out, licking the sensitive skin around her areola, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to her core.

Grey's paws continued to maul her, his thumbs brushing over her hardened peaks, sending shivers of delight through her body. His teeth grazed her neck, nipping and biting with a precision that was almost tender. "Mine," he murmured again, the word a dark promise that sent a thrill of fear and excitement through her. She could feel his cock, still hard and demanding, pressing against her stomach, leaving a trail of precum that made her skin feel sticky and hot.

He shifted his weight, his paws moving to her hips as he positioned himself at her entrance once more. This time, as he pushed back into her, she could feel the swollen knot at the base of his cock, growing larger with every thrust. It was an unfamiliar sensation, one that filled her with a mix of dread and excitement. Her body stretched around him, trying to accommodate the intrusion, her walls clenching and unclenching in a futile attempt to adjust.

Grey's eyes bore into hers, his expression a mix of hunger and triumph. He knew what was coming, and he reveled in the way she squirmed beneath him, her fear and arousal a potent cocktail that only fueled his desire. His thrusts grew more deliberate, his cock pushing deeper with every stroke, the knot inching closer to the tight ring of muscle that guarded her insides.

Y/N felt the pressure build, a sensation that was both terrifying and thrilling. Her mind screamed for her to fight, to push him away, but her body was a traitor, arching into his touch, begging for the completion that she knew would come with the seating of his knot. Her nails dug into the earth beneath her, her legs shaking with the effort to stay open for him.

Grey's eyes narrowed, his teeth bared in a feral smile as he felt her body resist. He leaned down, his breath hot on her skin as he whispered, "Take it, little human. Take all of me." And with that, he thrust forward, the knot breaching her tight entrance, stretching her further than she had ever been. The pain was intense, a white-hot agony that seemed to fill her entire being.

Her body fought the intrusion, her walls clenching around his shaft, trying to push him out. But Grey was relentless, his powerful hips driving into her, inch by inch, until his knot was fully seated within her. The pressure was unbearable, and she screamed, her nails scoring the ground beneath her. She could feel her body stretching to accommodate his monstrous size, her insides burning with the effort.

The pain was unlike anything she had ever experienced, a fiery agony that seemed to consume her very soul. But amidst the pain, there was something else—a feeling of fullness, a sense of belonging that was as overwhelming as it was unwelcome. His fur-covered body pressed down on hers, his hot breath in her ear as he whispered sweet nothings, his tongue flicking against her earlobe.

Grey began to rock his hips, the knot within her moving in a way that sent waves of pleasure through her body. She gritted her teeth, trying to fight the feeling, but it was like trying to hold back the tide. The pleasure grew with every movement, her body seemingly rewiring itself to crave the painful ecstasy he was forcing upon her. His eyes were wild, the pupils dilated with desire, and she knew she was lost to him.

The knot grew larger, swelling with every beat of his heart, pushing into her with a relentlessness that was both terrifying and exhilarating. She could feel it filling her, the pressure becoming unbearable as it reached the limits of her stretched body. Yet she couldn't stop the soft moans that spilled from her lips, her body betraying her with every twitch and quiver.

Grey's thrusts grew more forceful, the sound of his hips slapping against her ass echoing through the stillness of the forest. The pain had become a living entity within her, a constant throb that was matched only by the growing need for release. His claws dug into her flesh, leaving behind half-moons of blood and bruises that would be a stark reminder of her submission.

Y/N's eyes squeezed shut, and she bit down on her bottom lip so hard she could taste blood. The tears that fell were a mix of agony and a twisted pleasure that she didn't dare acknowledge. Each movement of his knot sent jolts of electricity through her, making her toes curl and her back arch. It was a dance of pain and pleasure, one she never wanted to end despite the horror of it all.

Grey's breath grew ragged, his hips moving faster and harder. She could feel the tension building in him, his muscles tensing as he approached his climax. And as much as she didn't want to, she found herself matching his rhythm, her hips rising to meet his. The pressure was unbearable, a delicious agony that was pushing her closer and closer to the edge.

With a roar that shook the very trees around them, Grey's knot swelled to its full size, locking them together in a carnal embrace. The feeling was indescribable, a mix of pain and pleasure so intense it was like nothing she had ever felt before. Her own climax hit her like a freight train, her body convulsing around his, her eyes rolling back in her head.

But just as the pleasure crested, everything went black. The world around her disappeared, and she was lost in the darkness. The next thing she knew, she was floating, weightless, and disoriented. Her body felt strange, like it didn't quite belong to her anymore, and she couldn't tell where she ended and the world around her began.

When she finally came to, the first thing she felt was the softness of the bed beneath her, the unmistakable scent of pine and fur in her nose. She blinked her eyes open, and the world swam into focus. The room was dimly lit, the only light coming from the moon that shone in through the open window. The bed she was in was massive, the sheets rough against her skin.

Grey was beside her, his fur ruffled and his eyes closed, his chest rising and falling with each deep breath. His hand lay possessively on her thigh, his claws retracted but still visible in the moonlight. Y/N's heart hammered in her chest as she took in the scene, her mind racing with the events of the night.

Her body felt used and abused, every inch of her tender flesh marked by his rough touch. Yet she couldn't ignore the stickiness between her legs, the evidence of their coupling that painted a vivid picture of her own participation. It was a stark contrast to the innocent girl she had been just hours ago, a stark reminder of the creature that now owned her.

Grey's grip on her thigh tightened in his sleep, and she flinched, the pain a sharp reminder of their reality. Carefully, she tried to slide away, but his hand followed her, keeping her in place. The warmth of his body was surprisingly comforting, the heavy weight of his arm draped over her was a bizarre source of security in the aftermath of the horror.

Her mind raced, trying to process what had just happened. She had been claimed by a monster, used, and marked as his territory. Yet she couldn't shake the feeling of contentment that filled her as she lay there, nestled into the crook of his fur-covered body. It was as if some primal part of her had been awakened, some ancient instinct that craved the protection of the man.

With trembling hands, she reached out, her fingertips brushing through the thick fur that covered his chest. His breathing was steady, his body warm and comforting against hers. Y/N allowed herself to sink into him, her body molding to the contours of his muscles, her cheek resting against the firmness of his chest.

For a moment, she closed her eyes, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart. It was a strange sense of peace amidst the chaos, a tranquility she never thought she would find in the arms of her captor. She felt his chest rise and fall beneath her, his breathing slow and even. She slowly fell back asleep, awaiting what would come in the morning.