#-WOLF RIPPING OFF SHIRT SCREAMING-

[darabeatha]

Day 3874395849395949588337276372 we got a new servant and his armor is cool but at what cost- (moctezuma)

[cinnbar-bun]

Maam stop making Diego so hot for no reason he’s a fucking loser (jk please keep doing it I love you)

He’s a loser but he’s MYYYY loser 😭😭😭

[aggroindustrial]

is it really a bad thing to disobey god?

summary. natalie, the stranger who works for your father, makes you question everything you've ever known.

pairing. natalie scatorccio x fem!reader

word count. 3.3k

warnings. smut, smoking, drinking, brief mentions of violence, religious themes, loss of virginity

fic note. i'm honestly not sure if this is even good since it's my first time writing a full fic lol. also my first time writing smut so yeaaa expect some mistakes maybe. and i’m also terrible at writing summaries and the amount of time skips might be a warning as well. anyway please enjoy ^v^

+18. minors do not interact

Longhorn Ranch, located in a forgotten town in the middle of nowhere. Just a name barely hanging onto a rusted highway sign, swallowed by weeds and time. The type of place that feels abandoned, where technology seems like only a rumor, and the sky always looks a sickly shade of blue. The kind of place that truckers speed past without a second glance.

The town had once had promises—a gorgeous train station; wide, thriving and golden wheat fields. Now, the station was long forgotten, only inhabited by rats and insects. The fields were all scorched, victims of too many merciless summers.

It was late June. The sun was high and mean, making the air feel suffocating. Dust from the road clung to the air like a dense fog, crawling down Natalie’s throat with every breath, mingling with the bitter smoke of her cigarette and the old, musty breath of her beat-up truck.

After her latest “incident”, her father pulled the old favor card on her and forced her to offer a helping hand at his friend's ranch for the rest of the summer. It was either that, or spend a few months behind bars for beating up a guy who insulted her friends, Tai and Van, at a bar.

The ranch looked like it had seen better days and only its bones remained. The two-story house, its wood weathered to a dull gray. Wind chimes hung from every corner of it, their eerie jingles the only sound above the distant bleats and calls of livestock.

A sun-bleached and stiff scarecrow standing in front of the house almost seemed to be telling Natalie to abandon all hope out here.

The man met her outside, a rifle slung over his shoulder, his boots dirty with mud and something darker that could've been dried blood. Natalie hopped off her truck, and he greeted her with a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

“Your father says you're good with cattle.” He rasped, voice like sandpaper, as he shook her hand.

“I know how not to get kicked by one.” Natalie nodded, shielding her eyes from the sun with the back of her hand.

“That’ll do. You’ll learn.” He nodded. “Hop back in. I’ll give you the tour.”

Natalie nodded again and went back into her truck. He climbed in beside her with a grunt, laying the rifle across his lap.

She caught a glimpse of a person observing her from a window on the second floor of the house, but glanced away without thinking too much about it.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

From your window, you saw her arrive. A brunette stranger. Everything about her screamed sin and regret—from the dark makeup around her eyes, to the sleeveless black shirt and ripped jeans she was wearing.

Your father had mentioned someone would be spending the summer at the ranch to lend him a hand, but you never expected it would be someone like her.

Her sharp gaze met yours, and suddenly your thighs tensed, your hands white-knuckling the windowsill. As much as you tried to ignore it all, thousands of images ran through your head, that you definitely shouldn't be thinking about.

She was everything you were always told to avoid—the big, bad wolf to watch out for, who always lurks in the shadows, waiting to pounce. Ready to devour, to take you away from God's side.

It's what your mother always told you, to never talk to the other men from your small town. But then again, this stranger wasn't exactly a man, so did that mean she wasn't a threat? She sure felt like one, but not the kind you feared.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

A couple days later, Natalie was laying on a thin mattress in the barn loft, staring at slivers of moonlight leaking through the roof. She had discarded her work clothes long ago. Sweat clung to her like an extra layer of skin. It was too damn hot to sleep.

Below her, the cows stirred. One of them let out a quiet huff. She tried not to think about the rifle the man had leaned against the barn door before locking her in for the night.

“Just in case of coyotes.” He said. Natalie didn't think coyotes came that close to the house, but she decided not to question him

She lit another cigarette and took a swig of her now-warm beer.

And then she heard it—the sound of footsteps trying to be quiet but failing miserably.

The door creaked open, just a little. Not enough to let in moonlight, but enough to see a silhouette framed in the crack.

You.

Natalie sat up, and she could feel her heart speeding up in her chest—mostly because she wasn't really looking forward to finding out how your father would react if he saw you with her.

“You got chores, and you got rules. Stay outta the house unless I call you.” He told Natalie while cleaning his rifle. “Don't bring mud inside, my wife hates it.” His gaze lifted from the gun and stared at Natalie pointedly. “And keep your eyes off my daughter. That clear?”

“You lost?” Natalie asked, and stubbed out her cigarette.

You didn’t answer and stepped in, and closed the door behind you.

“I heard noises.” You whispered. “And I couldn’t sleep.”

Her head tilted slightly to the side in curiosity, and the corner of her lips twitched. “And your first idea was to come out of your house and all the way here?"

You blinked, as if you were just now realizing the weight of your actions. It was almost adorable to Natalie, watching the way your innocent, wide eyes filled with nervousness for a second.

“You smell like smoke and beer.” A small mumble left your lips as Natalie took a step closer.

She hummed, and shrugged. “Better than smelling like the shit I have to clean every day.”

You flinched at her words, just a little. But even then, you didn't leave. No, you stayed and observed her like she was the most interesting thing you'd ever seen in your life.

Natalie should’ve told you to go back inside. Your father's rules were clear. That nothing good ever came out of moonlit visits and soft voices, and most definitely out of disobeying a man as scary as him.

But she didn’t. Instead, she watched you like someone watches a flame dancing too close to gasoline.

“My mama says people like you are to be avoided if I do not want to stray from God's path.” Your fingers played with the small, golden cross hanging around your neck.

Natalie stared at you, as if studying you. “What do you say?

Your gaze flickered down to the ground for a moment, but then lifted to look at her again. Even behind that undeniable hint of fear in your eyes, Natalie could notice something raw and hungry, eager to go against everything you've ever known until now.

“I don't know.” You whispered. “I think God is mad at me for thinking stuff I should not be thinking about.”

Her gaze dropped down to your lips, and you seemed to notice. Your shoulders stiffened.

Before Natalie could even think of moving any closer, you took a step backwards immediately, your cross still clutched between your fingers.

“Please don't tell my father I was out of the house.” Was all you said before you hurriedly ran out of the hayloft, leaving a confused Natalie behind.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

The next few days passed in silence.

Natalie kept her head down—cleaning stables, feeding animals, brushing horses. You avoided her like the plague, as you were supposed to.

Although the discreet, curious glances over meals and the quick nervous smiles were gone, too.

Perhaps it was for the best, Natalie thought while she watched the angry rain falling from the cloudy sky.

Getting involved in any way with the daughter of an eerie religious couple didn't seem like the smartest idea.

She worked until the sun hid itself behind the horizon. The rain hadn’t stopped. Not even after she showered and shared a quiet dinner with your family.

That night, thunder cracked like a whip, and rain sneaked through the cracks on the roof. Natalie lay on her mattress, a cigarette burning between her lips.

Her thoughts unraveled—until they were interrupted by the sound of the hayloft door, accompanied by the electric snap of a thunderbolt.

Natalie turned.

There you were—standing in the doorway, soaked, shoulders trembling. You looked frightened, caught between a nightmare and waking.

“I'm scared.” You whispered, staring at Natalie with an almost begging look in your eyes. “Can I please stay here with you?”

It was a dangerous request. Many, many things could go wrong—from your father finding out you sneaked out to be with her, to the temptation of repeating the mistake she’d almost made nights ago.

But she nodded. “Of course. You can come sit, if you want.”

The ghost of a smile passed over your lips for a brief second, before another thunderclap made you flinch, and you crossed the room to sit beside her.

“Thank you.” The words left your lips with a shaky breath. “I’ve always been afraid of thunder.”

“No problem. I get it,” Natalie said, though her hands sat uncharacteristically stiff in her lap. “I used to be afraid, too.”

“That… seems unlikely.” You let out a quiet laugh that lit your face for a short moment. “You look like you’re not afraid of anything.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “I may not look like it, but have a heart, too, you know.”

You giggled again, softer this time. Then silence. It fell between you like a curtain—gentle, yet charged. The kind of silence that trembles with things unspoken, resembling a rubber band wanting to snap with all the tension.

Natalie caught the way you looked at her. The way you swallowed nervously.

“You don't have to be afraid of me. I can tell you are.” She wanted to tell you. But the look in your eyes wasn't fear, unlike she'd first assumed. Not anymore. It was something else—something repressed and caged, practically begging to be set free.

The thought had Natalie's head spinning a little.

Your tongue flicked out to wet your lips, and Natalie’s eyes followed, heat rising in her skin. It felt like you were doing it on purpose to tempt her, but she knew better. You couldn’t possibly be that calculated in that matter.

“Please.”

It was an invitation. A spark. A permission.

It was almost ironic. How your parents had raised you to be their perfect devout daughter, clean of all sin. Only for a stranger to come along and ruin it all by staining your very existence forever.

“You sure?” Natalie asked, voice barely a breath, as she leaned closer—giving you a chance to pull away, to back out and run back into the house like last time.

But you never did.

All you did was nod, and Natalie didn't dare to question you again, selfishly afraid that you would vanish into the night.

Natalie closed the distance between you, her lips brushing yours in a slow, reverent kiss. You were hesitant, unpracticed—but it didn’t matter. She led you gently, her movements careful, tender.

Her hand slid to squeeze your thigh, and you pulled back with a sharp inhale.

“Sorry,” she murmured, eyes searching yours. “Too much?”

“No.” You shook your head, cheeks flushed. “Just… surprised. But I like it.”

Natalie’s fingers danced over the soft fabric of your nightgown, and she kissed you again. This time, there was a hunger behind it. As if she was desperate and ready to consume you whole.

She guided you down onto the mattress gently, her hands coaxing, and her mouth never leaving yours. Only when your lungs screamed for air did she finally pull back.

Small pants and gasps escaped your lips as soon as Natalie moved down to trail her own lips down the column of your neck.

“Let me make you feel good.” She breathed against your ear, taking your earlobe between her teeth.

“I don't know how.” You whispered back while your hands gripped her shoulders. The amount of new sensations and emotions were making you dizzy, heat burning in your stomach and between your legs.

“You don't have to do anything. I'll do it all.” Natalie shook her head and pulled back to look at you. “Only if you want it, too.”

You thought about it for a moment. The cross sitting around your neck was a reminder of how bad all this was. God was probably observing you from Heaven, disappointed that you were so weak for someone you barely knew at all.

“Okay.” You nodded slightly, already out of breath and Natalie hadn't even begun yet.

Perhaps with enough prayers, you could repent for your sins someday.

At some point, her kisses began to turn sloppy and uncoordinated. The desire and passion increased, like a fire engulfing the two of you until all that was left was pure and raw longing for more.

Your forehead rested against Natalie's as her hand gently squeezed one of your breasts. Your fingers wrapped around her wrist.

“I'm ready.” The hushed words slipping from your lips almost made Natalie moan out loud. Instead, she nodded and let her hand move down your torso slowly, wanting to engrave the feeling of every curve of your body in her mind.

Her fingers lifted your nightgown slightly, and she caressed your leg tenderly.

“Are you really sure about this?” She asked once more. “We can stop right now, if you want. It'll be okay.”

But the thought of stopping almost felt like a crime to you.

“I want it.” You reassured her, and cupped her cheek with your hand. “Please, Natalie.”

The sweetest lamb she'd met in her entire life, so innocent and pure, begging to be taken like this.

Natalie wondered how many good deeds she'd done in her past lives to earn this.

Her fingers caressed your panties, slowly moving to the apex of your thighs. You had absolutely soaked through the undergarment, and Natalie's eyes almost rolled to the back of her head at the feeling.

She let out a shallow breath, and began dragging the piece of cloth down your legs slowly while she stared into your eyes the entire time.

Your legs instinctively clamped together after your panties were gone, and Natalie's free hand came up to caress your cheek gently.

“You don't have to feel shy.” She mumbled softly. “I think I'm just as nervous as you are, honestly.” A small smile grew on her lips as she showed you how her hand was trembling slightly. “See?”

It was the first time Natalie felt nervous like that. Not even during the night she lost her own virginity.

The action seemed to help you calm down a little and you let your legs spread open again slowly.

Natalie kissed you. Not like earlier, desperate and hungry—no, it was gentle and sweet, guiding you through the moment.

Her knuckles brushed against your wet folds, making you breathe sharply and pull back from the kiss. She was afraid she'd hurt you somehow, but the quiet mewl that escaped your lips said otherwise.

She repeated the action, and her fingers moved against your clit in slow circles. Your eyes immediately shut and your head dropped down on the mattress with a small thud.

Natalie glanced down and let out a shaky moan when she saw the way you were completely drenched and your hips were moving slightly to meet her touches.

“Fuck…” She whispered, increasing the speed of her movements just a little and it immediately earned a whimper from you. “You're doing so great. Do you like that?”

You nodded at the question, unable to form any words at all.

The sound of your wetness reached your ears and it should've been embarrassing, but you couldn't bring yourself to care about anything at all.

If it's a sin, why does it feel so good? You asked yourself for a moment, but the thought disappeared from your mind when you felt Natalie's finger poking your entrance gently.

Carefully, she slipped it inside of you. She gave you a moment to adjust to the new feeling and kissed your cheek several times to distract you from the dull sensation of pain.

Her thumb found your clit again and pressed against it while she slid her finger in and out of you slowly, earning moans and quiet whines from your throat.

Your arms wrapped around her neck and you pulled her closer for a kiss that she returned eagerly. Ragged breaths and pants left both of your lips as she sped up her movements, to the point where you couldn't kiss her back anymore.

“I think…” Your voice trailed off quietly as your nails dug into her shoulders. It almost made Natalie hiss out of pain.

“Let it happen.” She whispered, kissing your lips one last time. “It'll feel so good, I promise, baby.”

Her voice drowned out, replaced by the loud sound of your heartbeat in your ears as you neared your climax, until you couldn't hold it back anymore.

Your teeth dug into your bottom lip to avoid moaning out loud and your back arched against Natalie. Your legs shut around her hand and she watched you crumbling down under her.

It was the most beautiful sight she'd ever seen.

Natalie helped you come down from your high, whispering sweet words into your ear while her free hand wiped the single tear that rolled down your cheek.

She removed her hand from between your legs and wiped your juices on her shirt with a shaky sigh.

“How are you feeling?”

The question drew a breathless chuckle from you as you opened your eyes.

“Great,” You answered, curling into her side as she lay beside you. “It was good.”

She nodded and kissed the crown of your head, wrapping her arm around your shoulders to hold you close.

The rain still fell, but the thunder had moved on.

“You’ll have to go back to the house soon, huh?” Natalie mumbled, eyes fixed on the ceiling. “I… kinda wish you could stay.”

“Yeah.” Your voice was quiet now. “I wish I could, too. But you know how he is.” The thought of your father finding you like this with Natalie made your blood run cold. “Thank you for tonight. Really.”

Natalie turned her gaze to you and offered a soft smile. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.”

You began sitting up, reaching for your ruined underwear with a sheepish grin.

“Hopefully there’ll be another thunderstorm tomorrow.” She joked, and you turned to her with wide, scandalized eyes.

“Hey!” You laughed, blushing furiously. “That’s not funny at all.”

She chuckled, biting her lip. “I know. I’m sorry.” She brushed your wrist with her fingers, and leaned in for a quick kiss. “Go. Before he shoots both of us.”

You sighed and nodded, heading to the door. Just before stepping out, you glanced back with a small smile and a wave.

Natalie watched you disappear behind the door. She lay back, the mattress still warm, the memory of you already carved into her mind like a secret prayer.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Days pass again.

You didn't speak. It wasn't exactly a problem—you weren't even supposed to talk to each other, anyway.

But Natalie still longed to hear your voice, to see you smile at her again with that sweetness of yours, like you were handing her a sacred secret.

One night, weeks later—after a long day spent beneath the scorching sun—Natalie returned to the hayloft and found something tucked into the hem of her pillowcase.

A torn page, folded neatly. Your handwriting—neat and elegant.

“Even the stars envy us. Even the saints must have sinned once.”

A slow smile spread across Natalie’s lips, soft and involuntary.

And in her chest, something stirred. Sincere hope, soft and fragile. Blooming like wildflowers after a storm.

[itsnotsunnyy]

matchstick

pairing: paul lahote x female!reader

word count: 1,2k

summary: it wasn’t fate wrapped in golden light, it was a collision. sudden, silent, undeniable and after days of running, of silence louder than any scream, everything cracked wide open on a front lawn full of witnesses.

content: imprinting, strong language, paul being dramatic, fluff…

a/n: this one shot was inspired by this blurb from @hughjackmanadict — go check out their page for more amazing imagines, they’re so good! i hope i did justice to this incredible idea. enjoy!

when paul lahote imprinted on her, it wasn’t some golden beam of light moment. no instant realization. no soul-connecting explosion of warmth. no whispered promises from the universe.

no.

it was paul, mid-sprint, about to rip jared’s throat out because he breathed wrong, turning his head at the exact moment she stepped into the clearing. one second, he was feral. the next, frozen. he stumbled back like he’d hit a wall. not even a metaphysical one. a real one. like her presence had decked him across the face.

jared blinked. “dude. you good?”

paul didn’t respond. his eyes were locked on her—her, of all people and he looked more confused than anything. the others saw it instantly.

quil smirked. “no way.”

jacob was already grinning. “paul imprinted.”

and embry? embry lost it. “oh, this is gonna be so good.”

because not only was she not some stranger, she was one of them, their girl. the sarcastic, sharp-mouthed honorary pack member who’d been around since before half of them could drive. she grew up around their bonfires and breakdowns, sat through jacob’s moody guitar phases and quil’s tragic haircuts, held her own in every roast battle, and had once made paul storm off on foot because she beat him at mario kart and told him his masculinity couldn’t survive the rainbow road. it was going to go very well.

it took a grand total of four days for her to snap.

paul had done everything short of fleeing the state to avoid her. no texts. no calls. nothing. not even a passive-aggressive post-it. and when she did show up at emily’s, he’d somehow vanish into the woods within seconds, like a hot-tempered cryptid with anger issues and a six-pack.

she tried to let it go. she really did. but now it was a saturday. she was tired. she’d just spilled iced coffee down her shirt. and there was paul, leaning against sam’s porch brooding, jaw tight, arms crossed like he had a vendetta against sleeves.

nope.

she marched straight up, ignoring the fact that the entire pack was scattered around the yard. jacob sat on the steps. seth was next to leah, mid-chew of a massive sandwich. quil and embry were playing cards on the hood of paul’s car.

didn’t matter.

her voice cut through the air like a slap.

“paul lahote!”

every head snapped toward her. including paul’s. his eyes widened for a split second, like he was considering bolting again, but she was too fast.

“no. you don’t get to run this time.”

“oh, hell,” jared muttered. “it’s happening.”

paul stood a little straighter, jaw twitching. “now’s not a good time.”

“oh, now’s the perfect time,” she snapped, storming up until she was toe-to-toe with him. “because i’ve been giving you space. respecting your weird silent brooding ritual. but now? i want answers.”

“i don’t owe you—”

“—you do, actually!” she barked, jabbing a finger into his chest. “because one second you’re ignoring me, and the next? jared’s telling me you imprinted on me! like, what? that’s not something you lead with?!”

the air got still. the boys were holding back laughter like it physically hurt.

paul swallowed hard. “you weren’t supposed to find out.”

“oh, well, too late, wolf-boy.”

“jesus,” quil whispered. “she’s worse than him.”

she whirled on quil. “stay out of this, walking snapback!”

quil threw his hands up. “okay!”

she turned back to paul, fury in full force now.

“you know what your problem is?” she snapped, pacing now, like the rant was too big to stand still for. “you act like you’re some emotionally stunted lone wolf, but really, you’re just a scared little boy who doesn’t know how to handle feelings.”

“that’s not—”

“no. shut up. i’m talking.” she turned, finger raised again. “and i get it, paul. i get that you’re an emotionally immature teenage boy with the brain and emotional stability of a bipolar manic pixie girl fresh off her meds, but i swear—”

paul was just staring at her. not angry. not even annoyed.

just… stunned.

like he’d never seen anything more beautiful in his life than her, absolutely raging, hair wild, face flushed, voice shaking with fire and fury and—

“oh my god,” jacob muttered. “he’s gone.”

embry snorted. “fully whipped.”

seth whispered, “do you think he even hears what she’s saying?”

she wasn’t done.

“—you can’t imprint on someone and then treat them like the freaking plague! you don’t get to hide from me like you’re protecting me from something when all you’re doing is making me feel like garbage! you want to push me away? fine. but at least have the balls to say it to my face!”

paul blinked. “i’m not trying to push you away.”

“oh? then what the hell are you doing?”

“i’m trying to protect you!” he shouted suddenly, voice cracking under the weight of everything he’d swallowed for days. “from me! from this! from all of it!”

the silence that fell wasn’t awkward. it was thick. heavy. real.

paul ran a hand down his face, breathing hard. “you think i’m scared of you? i’m scared of what this means. imprinting—it’s not normal. it’s not fair. i didn’t want this. not with you. not someone like you.”

she flinched.

his voice softened instantly.

“no. i don’t mean it like that. i mean i didn’t want it with someone who could see right through me. someone who’d call me out. someone who wouldn’t just sit back and let me keep pretending i’m not completely losing it every time i look at you.”

her breath caught.

“i didn’t think i deserved someone like you,” he said quietly. “so yeah, i ran. and i’m sorry. but i’m done running now.”

he stepped closer. one hand hovered near hers, barely brushing her knuckles.

“if you never want to see me again, say the word. but if there’s even a part of you that wants to try… i’m here. for all of it.”

she stared at him for a long, silent moment. then:

“…god, you’re so dramatic.”

and she grabbed his shirt and kissed him hard.

the pack erupted.

“let’s go!” jacob whooped.

“about damn time!” leah hollered.

embry pulled a five from jared’s hand. “told you she’d kiss him first.”

paul didn’t care.

he kissed her like she was oxygen and he’d been drowning, because he had. every day he spent pretending this wasn’t real had been like breathing water and now, finally, he could breathe again.

and god, it felt good.

[pineconepie]

parental yandere wizard becoming attached to (unwilling/unknowing) apprentice reader and deciding to keep them as their little baby <3

I hope this is good!!

TW: Kidnapping, parental yandere, descriptions of blood/violence, infantilization

...

You've always liked exploring the forest, it was different to most forests, almost straight out of a storybook. The trees were twisted with age, the flowers vibrantly bright and always in bloom no matter the time of year.

The air felt alive here. Magical. It felt more like home than your actual home.

Of course, there were some dangerous creatures that lurked the forest's depths, but you'd never ventured far enough to come across one before.

It seems that your biggest fear should've always been your own kind; humans. You always thought your demise would come from a hungry wolf or poisonous plants, but in reality?

It was a hunter's trap that crunched down on your ankle while you were daydreaming. A bear trap, the metal jaws clamping shut, crushing your bones and drawing blood.

The scream that rips itself out of your throat is loud enough to scare birds out of the surrounding trees.

Pain shoots up your leg, hot and cold at once, making it throb with each frantic heartbeat. You grip the jaws of the trap, your fingers scrabbling against the rusted iron until they're raw, trying to pry them open.

You realize with horror no one will find you out here.

Well, that's what you think, when suddenly the sound of quick footsteps and leaves crunching underfoot reach your ears. The steps slow, stop, and then...

"Oh my goodness!" a voice exclaims with dismay. Despite the panicked tone, their voice sounds soft and gentle.

You lift your head and are met with a pair of worried green eyes, wide behind thin spectacles. Their frame isn't too much taller than your own, and they have messy hair and freckles.

Even though their appearance is somewhat youthful, you can tell they're somewhere in their early forties.

"It's alright," they say, crouching next to you. "It'll all be alright, okay, sweetheart?"

Their voice is still soft, almost like someone talking to a frightened child. And, in this situation, you probably look like a frightened child, curled in on yourself and whimpering from the pain shooting up your ankle.

The stranger touches the metal gently and mutters something beneath their breath; the trap pops open so quickly that you squeak. The relief on your ankle is immediate, until you try to move it and another pained sob tumbles out of you.

You glance up at your savior who has removed their cloak, bunching it up in their hands.

"Just hold still, dearest. I know it hurts," they murmur softly, reaching forward to wrap it around your foot with great care, supporting your ankle the best they can. They give you a wobbly smile. "I'm going to take you home, okay? So I can help fix you right up."

Without their cloak, you notice they're covered in faded scars and marks.

Before you can open your mouth to ask, however, you're suddenly lifted into their arms with great strength, as if you weighed nothing more than a small toddler.

It startles you enough that you cling onto the front of their blouse.

"Careful, careful," they coo, giving you another quick smile before setting off, keeping your body pressed against theirs. You bury your face in the fabric of their shirt without thinking, sniffling quietly, still trying to ignore the pain radiating up your leg. "I'm so lucky to have found you... it's like my prayers have been answered! Maybe I am blessed, after all..."

They sound weirdly happy about this all, but you're in too much pain to really care.

And so you relax against your savior and allow yourself to drift off into a restless slumber.

...

When you wake up, you find yourself lying comfortably on a soft bed with warm blankets wrapped around you.

Your ankle isn't throbbing anymore; instead, you feel nothing more than a slight ache, now. You shift around until you're propped up on your elbows and can see your bandaged ankle resting atop a pillow.

You notice you've been changed into pastel pajamas which feel soft and clean against your skin.

Footsteps reach your ears, and you lift your head to watch as a stranger steps through the doorway, wearing that familiar kind smile you remember.

It was the same one they wore while they were scooping you up in their arms...

They hold two steaming mugs, each a dark red color. You recognize them as the person who saved you from that hunter's trap, so you allow yourself to relax back against the pillows again.

When you had first caught sight of them, you weren't sure whether or not they'd planned to bring you harm, but they seemed too sweet to mean any.

"I made you some hot chocolate," they say, walking towards the bed and setting the mug down beside you. They sit down in a chair situated next to the bedside with their own hot chocolate, blowing gently on the steam. "No one ever ventures out here. Were you lost?"

"N-No," you say, hating the way your voice quivers slightly. You clear your throat and reach for your own cup. "I live in the village closest to the forest. I... I was exploring when I stumbled across a bear trap. I wasn't looking where I was going."

Their gaze becomes sharper, but not to you specifically. "Ah. Those damn hunters." Then, they frown. "Sorry for my language."

You huff a laugh. "'Damn'? I've said far worse, I'd hardly call that a curse word." At the look they send you, you quickly say, "Maybe I look younger than I actually am. I'm not a kid."

Their smile returns. "Oh, love. If that's what you want to tell yourself."

You frown at their cryptic statement, staring at them suspiciously over the rim of your cup. You take a tentative sip, the drink sweet and creamy on your tongue, much better than the ones from the market.

"Well, whatever. I still appreciate your help. I would've bled to death out there without you. I had no idea there was anyone living out here." You blink slowly at them and continue, "So, um... what's your name?"

They grin. "Solaris, and I'm glad I could be of assistance. After all, I couldn't just leave you out there, crying like that. Positively shattered my heart!" They sigh dramatically, clutching at their chest. "Now, you have to heal. I already applied medicine to your ankle. All you need now is rest, sunshine."

You bite the inside of your cheek. "Sorry, but... how long will it take to heal? I have somewhere to be, so..."

Solaris glances over at you with an arched brow. Their lips are pressed in a thin line, though it doesn't seem as if they're mad or upset. "Well..." They pause to contemplate on something. "I'll be honest with you. I've been lonely. For so long I've craved not only an apprentice of my own, but my own baby, as well. Just before you showed up, I was pleading to whatever Gods above to grant me this wish. And then..." Solaris smiles. "There you were! Like an angel fallen from the sky. Like my very own angel."

You're quiet for a moment, blinking owlishly at them. "...And that means what, exactly?"

"It means... I'll keep you."

You let out a weak chuckle. "Yeah, okay, funny joke..."

"Oh, I'm not joking," they interrupt, turning to meet your stare. They don't hold that usual soft smile anymore. Instead, their expression has hardened, their lips now pursed in a thin line.

You swallow thickly at the sudden change, gripping your cup tighter than before. "But I can't stay. I have family and friends that will be worried about me."

"They have each other, don't they? Meanwhile I have no one..." Once again, they sigh dramatically. This time it makes you flinch. "All I have is my research and magic, and that gets painfully lonely."

"M-Magic?" you repeat, startled.

"Yes. An experienced one, in fact. Very skilled with potions and spells. Why do you think your wounds healed so quickly?" Their mouth twitches into a faint smirk. "Now I suppose you understand why trying to run would be useless. Besides, Mama just wants their precious baby safe and healthy..."

Your nose scrunches. Mama...?

"Um... sorry, but... no, thanks." You stumble out of bed, and are shocked to feel only a mild ache in your leg, the wound no longer bleeding, the skin cleanly stitched together. You limp towards the door as quickly as you can, but Solaris snaps their fingers and the pain is back, but five times worse than before. You fall against the floor with a cry.

"Now why did you make me do that?" Solaris shakes their head.

"No!" you snap. "You're insane. You aren't my mom!"

"Well, I wouldn't be opposed to a more masculine term—"

"How does 'asshole' sound?" you suggest dryly, using the nearby dresser to haul yourself onto your feet. The wood feels smooth against your clammy palms.

They hum lowly. "I'd like an apology, please. You're being a brat, and you haven't even spent a full day here yet." You only glare, which gets another long sigh out of them. "Fine. I suppose we'll do this the hard way."

The pain increases tenfold, and you nearly collapse again with a choked sob. Suddenly, the weight on your legs feels unbearable; even the task of breathing seems painful, each breath sending another sharp ache down your spine. A whimper escapes you.

You hate the tears stinging at your eyes, but the hurt is so bad that it takes every ounce of concentration not to curl up and scream.

"Apologize, sweetheart," Solaris coaxes softly. "No reason to act like such a stubborn brat. I don't like doing this to you, you're forcing my hand."

A tremble racks through your body as you sink down to your knees. "I'm sorry," you gasp, unable to bear it any longer. "Please, I'm sorry—stop!"

Finally, it ceases. The throbbing dulls to a light pressure once again.

With it, the tension drains from your muscles, and you slump backwards against the dresser.

You hug your knees to your chest and shiver when Solaris reaches forward to pull you onto their lap, smoothing down the locks of hair sticking to your sweaty forehead.

"See?" they whisper, pressing their lips against your temple. "If you'd only listened to mama like a good child... but I forgive you, my love. I always will. Now let's get you back in bed—it looks like you're going to sleep next to Mama tonight."

They lift you into their arms and tuck you beneath the covers, planting another kiss on top of your forehead. It seems they won't be leaving; the bed dips underneath their weight while they snuggle up beside you, humming a quiet tune underneath their breath.

You freeze momentarily before relaxing, letting them draw patterns along your arm, up and down and up again, the motions soothing enough that you soon find yourself slipping into slumber.

"There we go," Solaris says. "That's much better, hm? Goodnight, baby."

...

The next morning greets you with the smell of something good. Your stomach rumbles quietly from underneath the blankets.

You yawn, sitting up straighter in bed, wincing slightly at the stiffness in your leg. Although your wounds had closed, your leg was still wrapped in bandages to help ease the soreness away. You swing your legs off of the mattress and lower them down onto the cool wooden flooring below.

As soon as you're able to stand steadily, you walk out of your bedroom and wander until you stumble across the kitchen; you see Solaris bustling around the room, grabbing silverware and plates for your breakfast.

They turn and beam, seeing you standing awkwardly by the entrance.

"Good morning, sunshine!" Solaris says cheerfully. "Did Mama's little star sleep well?"

Star? That's a new one...

You merely hum instead, moving to sit in the nearest chair available. In front of you is a plate of pancakes already.

You glance back up to look at Solaris, who's watching you carefully. Only when they give you a smile and gesture for you to start eating do you grab your fork and dig in, only because you're starving. You take large gulps of water too.

"Slow down, slow down, sweetie! You'll get sick!" Solaris admonishes. Their brows furrow. "My goodness, when was the last time you had a proper meal?"

You ignore the question, continuing to scarf down your food and avoiding their eyes.

You can see them staring you down out of your peripherals.

It isn't long until you finish up your plate and you scoot out of the chair, ready to make a break for your room—until you're caught by a firm hand grasping the collar of your shirt.

The back of your throat makes an embarrassing noise, which draws a warm chuckle from Solaris's end. Your ears grow hot. Stupid.

"Ah, ah, ah! Don't be naughty," they chide, wagging a finger in front of your face. "Mama's gotta re-bandage your injury."

You scowl at them but follow nonetheless. Better to remain obedient for now.

They lead you through a narrow hall and open a pair of wide, heavy oak doors. Inside lies a study filled to the brim with books, all different sizes and colors, organized neatly on tall bookshelves lining the wall.

A round mahogany table sits at the center of the room, littered with strange gadgets and bubbling potions.

"This is where I study," Solaris explains. They motion over to a couch. "Why don't you lie down right here for Mama, sweetie? It won't take very long. Promise."

Once again, you oblige, albeit reluctantly. You plop down on the soft cushions and place both of your legs across them.

Solaris bends down to inspect the stitches before gingerly peeling the old wrappings off, tossing the bandages away into the trash bin. You peer down to examine the wounds yourself.

They're clean-cut and sewn together carefully. Almost professionally, you note.

"Will they leave scars?" you ask.

Solaris blinks. "Most likely. I've got magic, but that doesn't mean it's unlimited." They seem almost apologetic as they gently press around the irritated skin. "The wounds should stay sealed up so long as you don't irritate them."

After adding some more ointment, they wrap your ankle up anew. Next they check on your hands, brushing feather-light touches against the raw skin.

"I can get rid of these scrapes with a spell. Will that be okay, sweet pea?"

"It's fine, I guess," you say, pulling a face. "Won't hurt, will it?"

"Not at all. Just a small tickle, is all." Before you can add anything else, Solaris waves a hand over your palms, muttering a chant beneath their breath—and within seconds, your hands begin to tingle.

The sensation lasts barely half a minute and fades as quick as it appeared. You wiggle your fingers and gawk at how smooth and free of blemishes your skin has become.

"How did you become a wizard?" you ask them curiously.

"Hm..." They scratch their chin, clearly thinking their answer over. "Well, I grew up studying the craft ever since I was a tiny thing. My father practiced dark magic and my mother was a white witch. After their passing, I wanted to learn everything I could about what they studied and became obsessed with spells and research... But that was many, many years ago."

"Years ago?" you echo. "How old are you? You look fairly young."

Solaris lets out a laugh, patting the top of your head in fondness. "Flatterer! You sure know how to win people's hearts." They wipe imaginary sweat off their brow before answering, "Magic has slowed my aging down quite a bit. I'm actually around a hundred."

"Oh," is all you manage to utter, unable to conjure up another response. A part of you isn't entirely surprised by the fact, seeing how far advanced their abilities are.

Before either of you can speak again, Solaris cups both of your cheeks. "And you can age slower too. With me, here! Isn't that wonderful? I could even make you younger than what you are now, if you'd like. Not that it'd matter either way, since you're my baby, regardless."

You suppress the shiver trying to run down your spine. "The only thing I'd ever want from you is to take me home."

Your reply makes them frown deeply. "Now why would I want to do that? This is your new home, right here with me. And when you adjust, we can decorate your room however you want!"

"I don't want a new room," you protest. "I don't want a new home. And I especially don't want a new parent."

"You may not think so now," they reply. "But you'll warm up to it soon enough. I have faith in you, buttercup. You'll see."

The words send dread shooting down your spine.

...

After breakfast, Solaris gives you the grand tour.

"There isn't much to see, really," they admit sheepishly, rubbing the back of their neck. "My study is full of chemicals, so you can't be allowed in there alone. Even when you do agree to be my apprentice."

You look out the nearby window, and realize how high up you are in the stone tower.

Below you, the village you used to live in is visible beyond the forest; it looks like miniature buildings now, the villagers themselves nothing more than ants milling about.

"This used to be a watch tower. Hundreds of years old, mind you. I renovated it myself with a little magic and a lot of elbow grease. You should've seen the place beforehand—it was practically dilapidated!" Their cheerful chatter trails off after that, allowing you to gaze out the window once more. Then they say, in a gentler tone, "Is your old home somewhere down there? That must've been a long walk to get so deep into the woods."

"Mhm," you murmur, tracing circles against the dusty glass with your fingertips.

"Well, I think that's just about everything." Solaris pauses. "We can discuss an apprenticeship later. For now, why don't you read a book from the library downstairs? Any one you wish." When you frown, they lean forward to plant a kiss on top of your forehead. "Or maybe you'd prefer being rocked and read to in Mama's arms?"

"No," you grit out between clenched teeth. You huff and cross your arms over your chest petulantly.

They smile. "I figured. Go on, then."

You move to exit the room.

...

Hours pass, and you're painfully bored.

There wasn't anything interesting in the library, and you're too anxious about touching anything in the study. Your only form of entertainment at the moment are the birds tweeting outside, along with the clouds floating by lazily overhead.

It would almost be peaceful if you weren't stuck here against your will. If you could only escape—then, you wouldn't have to deal with Solaris's coddling any longer.

Thinking about it, your face scrunches up.

You had been on the receiving end of plenty of hugs today, as well as kisses and a good portion of baby talk.

Each encounter left a sour taste lingering on the back of your tongue.

You can't take this any longer. You rip off both of the long curtains to the side of the window, and tie them together tightly, braiding them into a rope-like length of fabric.

Thankfully, Solaris is preoccupied somewhere else, giving you plenty of time to set things up.

Your knot-tying skills are less than subpar, but you make do. Once secured, you throw the makeshift rope outside and tug on it a few times for safety purposes.

With an audible gulp, you slowly shimmy down, squeezing your eyes shut to avoid looking down below. Thankfully, the ground reaches you before anything bad can happen. When your feet touch the grass, relief floods your veins in one dizzying rush.

Freedom is finally in sight. There's no sign of Solaris anywhere.

You're about to sprint away from the watch tower as fast as possible, when suddenly an invisible force renders you completely immobile.

"Sneaky, sneaky," comes a familiar voice behind you.

When you don't respond, Solaris clicks their tongue. They snap their fingers once, removing the invisible chains around your body.

They pick you up and rest you against their hip while ascending up the stairs. "Oh dear. Now look what we've done—you ripped poor Mama's favorite curtains..."

You wriggle desperately in their grasp. "Let me go!"

"Why?" they say, sounding genuinely confused. "I made you those cute clothes. I fed you. Why run away? Do you enjoy breaking my heart?" There's a brief pause while they push open a door to a bedroom and place you inside. "Maybe a night alone in here will make you reconsider your choices."

Before you can argue or defend yourself, Solaris closes the door, and you hear the tell-tale jiggling of keys and turning of locks on the other side.

You pull at the knob and pound your fists on the wood repeatedly, until your hands sting and throb with a dull pain.

Then, the exhaustion settles deep in your bones and you fall asleep on the bed.

[perseephoneee]

for kinktober 2024. fandom: teen wolf. characters: scott and isaac. kink: threesome

kinktober day 2 (isaac lahey x f!reader x scott mccall)

↳ masterlist  ↳ ship exchange ↳ taglist ↳ kinktober masterlist

content warnings: threesome, oral (f. and m. receiving), degrading nicknames, p in v, unprotected sex, insinuation of sex pollen

a/n: i was so intimidated to write this so i listened to Mario kart music while doing so. because you know. nothing screams "sex!" like coconut mall

Your dirtiest fantasies had not prepared you for this. Beacon Hills always had something weird going on, and the Nemeton was to blame for that, but whatever had infected the boys this time was nasty. You had noticed Scott and Isaac acting weird while at school, so feeling dutiful, you decided to stop by and check in on them afterward. You had to wait until you finished your extracurriculars and came to the McCall household after the sun had set. Melissa's car wasn't in the driveway, so she was probably working the night shift again. Scott's motorcycle was here, so you assumed he was home. You knocked on the door but tried pushing it open after no response. Someone had left it unlocked as you nervously stepped into the house.

"Scott?" Isaac?" you called out, dropping your bag by the front and walking in further. Goosebumps prickled on your skin as you ascended the stairs, investigating further. There were no lights in the hallway, and you were questioning if you imagined the motorcycle in the driveway. Suddenly, you were pushed against the wall, letting out a yelp as a hand wrapped around your throat.

Isaac looked down at you, eyes rimmed in gold but no claws as he held you there. You gulped, and he smirked as you looked at him fearfully. Looking for someone, princess?"

Something was wrong, that much you could see. It was almost like he was trapped in a half-wolf state, and you were the stupid rabbit that had run into the foxhole. Isaac cupped your neck, tilting your head back with a growl. "Answer me."

"W-wanted to make sure you and Scott were okay," you stammered. Isaac's other hand traced circles on your hip, making you hyper-aware of everything happening around you. Your ears pricked at the sound of footsteps coming down the hall.

"That's cute. She came to take care of us," Scott said, the same glazed look in his eyes as Isaac's, this time rimmed in red. Your heart picked up as he stalked closer. He heard the change in your breathing and grinned. "Don't be scared, it's just us."

You were slightly scared because these were not the often awkward but kind boys you knew. These werewolves looking at you like their next prey. The masochistic part of you was slightly aroused by it.

Isaac pulled you from the wall, spinning around so you were facing Scott as he stood right behind you. You could feel his erection pressing into your back as he brushed the hair away from your neck, resting his chin on your shoulder. "Pretty thing, isn't she?" he murmured, kissing behind your ear. You would probably collapse from cardiac arrest if he wasn't holding you. Scott stepped closer, and you couldn't help but stare into the red glow of his eyes.

"What do you think? Gonna take care of us?" Scott cooed. The curious part of you nodded, all common sense flying out the door. Scott smirked, leaning down and kissing you. The intensity was shocking, and you couldn't help but almost stumble into him as your hands found his biceps. He just pulled you closer, nearly growling into your mouth before pulling away. Scott started pulling you towards the closest bedroom, Isaac following behind like a dominating presence. You felt heat rise in your cheeks at the sound of the door clicking close.

"You gonna undress for us, or should we rip the clothes from your body?" Isaac hummed, playing with the hem of your shirt. You hesitantly started taking off your body, then removing your jeans, until you were left in your undergarments. The room was mostly dark, with only a single lamp in the corner casting shadows. Still, you couldn't help but be aware of how they admired you. Scott sat on the bed, watching in amusement as Isaac circled you. Isaac pulled you closer to him, fingers brushing over the edge of your bra. "Such a pretty slut, all for us?" he purred, and you felt your stomach tighten.

"Yes," you responded, voice small. Isaac kissed you, gentler than Scott but still firm. His hands unclasped your bra as he pushed you towards the bed. You fell onto it with a slight bounce, wanting to cover your chest but unable to as Scott grabbed your arms. He had undressed and now was leaning over to kiss and suck your breasts before you could utter anything else. You let out slight gasps, feeling overwhelmed and not even noticing Isaac removing his shirt and sliding to the floor. He pulled off your panties, bringing you closer to the edge of the bed as he kissed up your inner thighs. He bit down hard on your soft flesh, causing you to let out a yelp, which Scott swallowed down with his lips. Your senses were on fire, feeling overwhelmed by their bodies close to yours. Scott slipped his tongue in your mouth right as Isaac licked from your entrance to your bud. You let out a shuddering breath and fell back against the bed, the pleasure overwhelming.

"Let's put that mouth to work," Scott hummed, sitting up above you with his briefs gone and cock pressed to his stomach. You gulped, unsure, but took him in your hands and tentatively licked the head. He let out a groan, wrapping your hair in his hands and holding your head steady as you took more of him in your mouth. You tried to remember to breathe through your nose, even as Isaac continued eating you out. Tears pricked your eyes as you took Scott as deep as possible before pulling back. He started fucking your mouth, holding you steady as his dick passed between your lips. You moaned around him as Isaac began to use his fingers, curling them just right. Scott and Isaac pulled away simultaneously, leaving you feeling discombobulated. You barely had a second to complain before you were being flipped over, ass in the air on your hands and knees. Scott cupped your cheek, running his thumb over your bottom lip, which you took into your mouth, sucking gently. He growled, removing his hand and squeezing your face. "Greedy, aren't you?" Scott smiled, the red in his eyes almost getting brighter. "Don't worry, we'll fill you up real nicely."

"Love this pussy of yours, princess," Isaac cooed, running his fingers up and down your folds. Your core tightened in response, excitement building up for you. You turned your head to look at Isaac, naked and smirking above you as he kneaded the plush of your ass. You turned your head back and took Scott in your mouth again, breathing in and out deeply as you worked on taking in as much as you could. Scott held your head, panting in a way that only spurred you on. Just a moment later, Isaac pushed into you. You yelped around Scott's cock, earning a huff of laughter from Isaac as he started to pound into you. You knew your thighs would be red from where he was repetitively hitting you over and over. You almost gagged around Scott as Isaac caused you to go deeper and deeper.

"You're such a good little cock slut, fuck, you're so hot," Scott moaned, and you looked up at him through heavy lashes. Apparently, that was his undoing because he came in your mouth a second later. You swallowed it all down greedily, saliva coating your mouth as he pulled away and laid down on the bed. The glow was already dimming from his eyes, which you found interesting.

You couldn't help but moan as Isaac rolled his cock into you. He grabbed your arms, holding your wrists behind you and pushing down on the small of your back so you were arched up further. You cried out complete nonsense, your core desperate for release.

"Gonna cum on my cock, princess? You can do it; I know you can," Isaac murmured, reaching his other hand to rub against your clit. You cried out his name as you came, your entire body clenching as he followed right behind you. He kept fucking into you as you both came down from your high, pushing his seed as deep as possible.

All three of you were panting as Isaac pulled out and fell down to the other side of the bed, pulling you with him. You let yourself fall asleep, wondering if it was all a dream.

taglist: @alice3612 @rafecameronswhore @evasmlp

[slut4thebroken]

Little Lamb

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Werewolf!Emmett x reader

Summary | Emmett smells a sweet little lamb in the forest on the night of a full moon and his primal instincts take over.

Warnings | Smut, NON CON, death?, bestiality, werewolf/human sex, knotting, biting, primal, hunting, breeding, crying, blood, cunnilingus, mating mark, fear kink, spit, (pre apocalypse)

Words | 2k

Notes | I can already smell the pussy anon haters in my inbox lmaooo

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

Kinktober | day 31: werewolf

Emmett went to the woods every full moon so he wouldn’t put anyone in danger when he turned. But sometimes he’d come across a camper— like tonight. He had already turned and could immediately smell the sweet scent of perfume in the distance, along with some smoke from a small campfire. 

He stalked through the trees silently, surveying the scene. There you were, beautiful, young, glowing under the moonlight and the flames… But there was a man with you— sitting far too close for his liking. Emmett growled quietly before he could help it, suddenly filled with a primal rage that only intensified when the man leaned closer and kissed you. He pulled you onto his lap and you moaned against his lips, filling Emmett with an unexpected mix of anger and arousal. 

He continued stalking through the trees and your head snapped up with a gasp when he stepped on a twig. “What was that?” You whispered, looking in Emmett’s direction, trying to see in the dark. 

“It was nothing, baby.” He murmured, pulling you back into a kiss. His hands were roaming all over your body, squeezing your tits and your ass, groping you like some kind of sick pervert. 

“I swear I heard something.” You said against his lips, not able to pull away to speak. 

“Babe,” he huffed, flipping you onto your back, forcing a startled sound out of you, “it was probably just a squirrel something.” He leaned down and resumed the kiss, but it was far more passionate this time as he started rocking his hips against you. 

Emmett watched him make out with you, sliding his hands under your shirt to grope your bare tits. He was growling quietly, saliva drooling from his mouth as his teeth bared at the sight. You were whimpering and letting out these soft little moans, and something inside Emmett just snapped. 

He jumped out from his position and ran over to the couple. When you heard the noise, you looked over, then immediately screamed at the sight of what you thought was a giant wolf running toward you. Before the man had a chance to react, Emmett was already biting down on his neck and dragging him off of you. 

“Stop!” You shrieked while the man cried out, punching at Emmett, trying to yank on his fur or do anything to get him off. He just bit down harder, making the man’s scream cut off into a gurgle as blood rushed into Emmett’s mouth. Once his struggling died down significantly, Emmett finally let go and turned to you, blood dripping from his maw, his blue eyes gleaming in the moonlight. 

You were scrambling back on the ground until you reached a bag, then pulled out what he was pretty sure was bear spray based on the faint scent from inside the canister. So he jumped at you, making you scream and push down on it, but the safety clip was still on so nothing came out. He gently nipped at your wrist and you immediately dropped the canister, your crying intensifying as you brought your hands up to shield your face from him. However, instead of going for your neck, after he nudged the canister away, he took your shirt in his teeth and pulled. The fabric ripped easily and he growled at the sight of your bare chest. 

“W-What the fuck?” You said through broken sobs, moving your hands down to shield your breasts, but they flew away when he snapped his jaw at them. 

Emmett leaned down to sniff over your torso, blood dripping from his jaw onto your bare skin. He moved up to sniff your face and hair, his cock finally stirring to life as he lapped at the tears on your cheeks, making you flinch away from him and start crying harder. He moved back down, licking at your nipples that were already hard from the cool night air, and all you could do was cry under him. 

He absentmindedly pawed at your stomach and the top of your pants while focusing his attention on your tits, signaling that he wanted them off, but you were completely frozen. So he growled, and moved down to latch onto the fabric, tugging as hard as he could while snarling impatiently. 

“Stop!” You cried, your hands twitching, desperate to reach down and push him away, but too scared to get injured. 

The fabric was starting to tear and after a few seconds, he finally had your panties exposed. He bit down on them and you whimpered when his teeth accidentally nipped your lower stomach, drawing blood as he ripped your panties off of your body. One your pussy was free, he quickly lapped at the wound on your belly apologetically, then immediately moved down to taste your cunt. 

“No…” You whined pathetically, trying to squirm out from under him. In response, he placed a paw on your stomach, his sharp nails digging into the soft skin painfully as he held you in place. He practically devoured your cunt, his wet nose digging into your clit while his tongue lapped at your leaking hole. 

Emmett’s cock was leaking just as much, rock hard and throbbing between his hind legs, aching to be buried inside your tight little cunt already. But for now, he continued ravishing you with his tongue, enjoying the way you squealed and tried to hold back your moans. 

The scent of your arousal was almost overwhelming up close, though it was slightly masked by the scent of blood still staining the fur on his muzzle. However your fear was easily the most addictive thing he’d ever encountered… Like a little lamb, completely helpless and ready to be consumed by the big bad wolf. 

“Please…” You sobbed, writhing under him, making his cock twitch. He finally pulled back, panting heavily above your cunt while you cried, each labored exhale steaming against your drenched core. Your body sagged slightly in relief now that the stimulation was gone. 

After a moment, you peered down at him curiously, your bottom lip quivering with the effort of holding back more sobs. When you suddenly noticed the large cock hanging down between his legs, your eyes widened and you choked on your spit, your body seizing up from fear once again. 

Emmett stepped off of you and used his snout to nudge at the side of your hip, trying to get you to turn over. You whimpered and shook your head, so he growled and bared his teeth, forcing a quiet sob out of you. He nudged again, more insistently this time, then gently nipped at your side, making you yelp, but finally turn over. 

He bit down on your torn pants and pulled up, wordlessly telling you to get on your knees, his tail wagging slightly in satisfaction when you actually obeyed. As a reward, he briefly lapped at your cunt again and your body trembled as you cried.

Finally, Emmett was mounting you, making you start crying even harder. His hips were jerking forward, his cock blindly searching for your hole— One of the biggest downsides to not having hands… Once the tip notched on your entrance, he immediately pushed in, making you scream and jolt away from him. He adjusted his grip with his front legs hanging over your hips, his claws digging into the fronts of your thighs, forcing pained whimpers out of you. 

Your body shook with the force of your sobs as you cried into the ground, your hands clawing at the dirt as he bottomed out, letting out a low grunt. 

You felt incredible… The way your tight cunt wrapped around his thick cock, the way your bare back felt pressed against his furry belly, the way you screamed and cried as he forced his cock in deep— filling you up better than that pervert ever could’ve. 

When he started rutting, your whole body lurched forward and a startled noise of pain escaped you. He just adjusted his grip and kept humping you, chasing his own pleasure. Saliva dripped from his maw as he snarled, the wetness pooling on your back. 

Your pussy was fluttering around his cock, squeezing him like a fucking vice, practically trying to suck him back in each time his hips drew back. When you couldn’t take it anymore and started trying to crawl out from under him, he leaned over you even more, pinning you down with his paws on your upper back, his claws leaving red streaks each time you shifted. 

Even though part of him wanted to pin you down and choke you, squeeze and maul your tits with his hands as he growled sweet praise and degrading insults against your ear… a larger part was more than satisfied by the fact that you thought you were being raped by a real wolf right now. 

He wondered what you’d do after he finished— if you’d call the police and tell them that a beast ripped your boyfriend’s throat out and then raped you next to the dying body. Or maybe you’d lie and tell a more believable story that wouldn’t hold up when they actually investigated and found no sign of another human’s involvement besides your well-fucked cunt. 

Emmett plowed into you desperately, his knot swelling and aching to be forced inside you. Each time it caught on the rim of your pussy, it made you whimper, your legs trembling. 

He was so fucking close— just needed something else to get him there… So he bit down on your shoulder— not hard enough to break skin— and you let out a strangled cry, digging your nails into the dirt, making him finally fall over the edge. The scream you let out when he forced his knot inside you had him biting down harder, marking you. His cock twitched, spurting out ropes come deep inside your abused cunt, his knot keeping everything sealed up tight. 

When his orgasm eventually faded, he panted heavily, his paws sliding off your back, landing on the dirt on either side of you. He lapped at the bite mark on your shoulder and the tears on your cheek as you remained laying on the ground, your head turned to the side. 

His tail was wagging languidly behind him and he just basked in the moment for a while, taking in your scent and the feeling of his knot plugging up your tight pussy. 

The way you cried and whimpered was just so adorable… But the way you started panicking when he impatiently tested the swollenness of his knot was even cuter. You frantically reached back, trying to hold onto his hind legs while he attempted to pull out, making you whine in pain. 

“No— please wait.” You whimpered, gasping out pained sobs as your body trembled. When your pussy finally yielded to his knot, you screamed and his cock slipped out with a wet, vulgar squelch. Emmett immediately jumped off of you while you sobbed, eager to watch his come trickle out. 

Your cunt was red and puffy, looking so incredibly ruined, and he whined impatiently, his tail wagging behind him. When he finally saw his come, he growled low in his throat and immediately surged forward to start lapping at it, making you yelp. You almost seemed to enjoy the way his tongue laved over your sensitive folds, cleaning you up carefully, albeit sloppily. Your poor little cunt was quivering against his tongue, your body just barely writhing, your soft sounds shifting from whimpers of pain to whimpers of pleasure.

Once he was satisfied, he pulled back, dragging his tongue over his muzzle to savor the lingering taste of your arousal mixed with his seed. He forcefully swatted your hip with his paw, knocking you onto your side with a soft grunt. Emmett crawled over you, forcing you onto your back, then started licking at your lips, making you groan in disgust and attempt to weakly push him back. 

“Stop it!” You whined. Emmett just lapped at the rest of your face, cleaning up your tears, then moved back to your lips. You let out a muffled sound when he pushed his tongue past your lips, drool smearing all over the lower half of your face. Finally satisfied, he stepped back, watching you wipe your mouth with a look of disgust on your face, still crying softly and trembling. 

Then he finally trotted off to enjoy the rest of the full moon, feeling spent and satisfied after successfully claiming his prey— his helpless little lamb. 

[7brownsuga7]

Ghostface killer pt.2

Jungkook x fem reader

Kinktober

Ghost face killer pt.1 here

Word count: 759

Genre: smut drabble - minors DNI

Summary: Everyone has a Scream movie marathon in the living room totally oblivious to Jungkook who sneakily fucks you on the sofa

Warnings: Fluff, smut, explicit language, unprotected sex, sneaky sex, public sex, taboo, orgasm

Notes: I wanted to upload this before October ends, enjoy ;) (I LITERALLY CANT STOP WRITING ABOUT JUNGKOOK!!! LIKE HELP ME PLS IM BEGGING!!!! IM TRYING TO WRITE FOR OTHER MEMBERS BUT I KEEP ON HAVING IDEAS FOR HIM FUCKKK!!! *rips off shirt and transforms into a wolf *)

Jungkook. The man that’s full of surprises and pent up sexual frustration has found his way to sneakily fuck you while everyone else is in the living room in the middle of a scream marathon.

Apparently he could care less about the franchise and has more of an interest in fucking you while you sit on his lap softly moving your hips around his cock.

He must have some interest in the film because his ghostface costume had made a return. You could never describe the excitement it brings you when he fucks you in his mask. You never knew you had a mask kink until Jungkook brought it out of you. But now as your pussy stretches for his thick length, you wonder if it’s the mask or just him.

Probably both.

It’s risky fucking In front of other people, but with everyone’s attention on the film, the intoxication in the room, and both of you sitting away from everyone with yours and Jungkooks black cloaks helping hide the movements, it’s pretty worth it. Especially when he fills you up like that, his hands on your waist guiding you around his length. His soft grunts make you lift yourself up a bit and slowly sit back down, still trying not to gain attention from anyone in the room.

Your moans fill the small area as your head tries to adjust to your senses, while he still makes it his point to fuck you recklessly, moving his waist along with your movements. You can feel him all around you and inside you, moving so gracefully with so much precision you’re sure he’s a sex god, or just trying to kill you, or both. You feel him on your body, his hot touch seeping into your skin and through your veins, as he holds your waist and runs his fingers up your spine, his hips working up to meet your movements. You crave for more of him even though he’s as close as he can get. His scent works its way around you and through you, slowly invading your senses and working its way to your head, nothing else makes any sense in this moment, but him and his touch and smell and everything that is him.

You haven’t uttered a single word since he slipped his dick into you, honestly too fucked out to do so. He enters you with so much precision that you’re sure your orgasm is already approaching. The wetness around your cunt and your thighs just proves it. Luckily the large black cloak covers your exposed pussy and his cock.

You lean back against his chest, becoming tired too quickly. His hands hold your hands that are placed on either side of you on the sofa for support. His thumb gently stroking the top of your hand, despite the increasing force of his hips. You bite your bottom lip to suppress any sounds leaving your mouth. When his hands move under your cloak to rub your clit, you’re sure he wants people to find out what you’re doing as you gasp with shock and pleasure.

He rubs your clit, his cock still stuffing you whole as his movements continue. Your legs close as you can feel your orgasm suddenly approach. “I want you to cum for me okay? Make as much noise as you can” he whispers in your ear and you look back at him in shock.

“What? Are you crazy?” And you’re sure he is when he adds pressure to your clit and his hips move at an increasing speed. You can’t do anything but restlessly sit on his lap with his cock inside you as it works in and out of you.

Your thighs are still tightly shut as your orgasm approaches as quick as ever.

It’s like he times it, when you softly squeal due to the orgasm and overstimulation on your clit when ghostface comes on screen and kills one of the characters. Your moans are muffled by the loud music and the slight chatter in the room.

“Mmmh, that’s it let it out baby, good girl”

Your hand covers your mouth as the scene ends and a quieter scene approaches. You shudder, the chills running down your spine at the sensation of your orgasm and him inside of you.

“Good girl, you got it, let it out” his voice is soothing in your ears.

And in that moment you wonder who’s the real killer, the one in the film or him, because he’s really killed you tonight for sure.

[therandompagesblog]

SKZ Pack Bonus Chapter 2

Trigger warnings: final smut, cunnilingus, salirophilia, orgasm, blow job

"What are you doing?" "Locking you in here." "Why?" "I want a baby. Now. We gotta make it, let it cook for a while and then voila a puppy is here. Quick get on the bed before the others get you. It's my turn." "Seungmin!" "Quick!"

Seungmin locked the door knowing he had one hour to please his Luna and one hour to make a pup. He was desperate. The puppy wanted a pup badly. It was all Luna's fault. She dressed him in a tutu. She put bows in his hair. They even had a tea party together where they gossiped about the other alphas. Then poor Seungmin had a wet dream of him fucking a pup into Y/N and now he was a desperate wolf. H was that desperate he begged and paid Minho to take his kids out while Moon along with Lucas were at school. So Luna and Isla were out with Minho, leaving the other wolves inside the house. He honestly did not care. He could make his mate scream as desperately as him without the kids hearing her. Luckily for him, Y/N was on board as she jumped on him, pinning him to the door. Y/N couldn't help it either. It had been three whole months since she had sex with someone. She was desperate herself but the children always needed her. Someone would have a nightmare at night. Someone wanted to sleep with her and their father. It became impossible and they definitely could not do it during the day, Isla was here. Now that it was silent, Y/N could fuck him as long and as much as she liked as long as it was within the hour time frame.

Y/N didn't care how desperate she was. She needed him and Seungmin needed her. Seungmin carried her to his bed, throwing her down as he stayed trapped between her legs. His hardened clothed clock rubbed against her clothed pussy as they ground on one another to gain friction. He could make Y/N come there and then as he smelled her slick preparing herself for his knot. Seungmin's tongue started to become sloppy as he fucked her mouth before kissing her neck. His kisses were hot, wet and lethal as they trailed up and down her neck. "Need more, Minnie," Y/N whined as her hands knotted in his hair. "Patience baby. Gotta feel you. Taste you. Then I'll fuck you." Seungmin growled out, making Y/N throw her head back with want. Seungmin picked up his pace and humped her harshly as if he was fucking her. He lifted himself up and gripped her hips before pushing her t-shirt up to see her uncovered breasts that were waiting with need. Seungmin rutted against her with a moan as his hands went to play with her hardened nipples. He threw his head back with a moan, feeling his cock tightening in his joggers. He was going to cum. Y/N squeezed Seungmins wrists as she came in her clothes just as Seungmin did.

Seungmin lowered his head and kissed her once more. Tasting each other's sweaty mouths. Tasting each other's desires. Y/N pushed him up and pulled down his joggers to see his leaking cock. His cock made her mouth spasm. She missed him so much that she didn't even warm him up. She put him straight into her mouth, sucking rapidly with need. Seungmin grabbed her head, making a makeshift ponytail while she sucked. Her hands gripped his ass as she pushed him forward harshly. Y/N took one of his hands and cupped his testicles, squeezing it softly causing him to let out a deep moan. Y/N's pretty face was filled with tears as she took him back further. She wanted his seed in both her holes. She wanted his salty taste in her mouth. "Gonna. Fucking. Y/N FUCK!" Seungmin shouted as he jolted back. His seed spilling all over her face. Y/N took her fingers and slid the cum of her face into her mouth to taste. Seungmin groaned at the sight and pushed her down, making her laugh.

He wasted no time and ripped the remainder of her clothes off harshly. He needed to taste her. He was a deprived man. "Go on, Minnie. Taste me." Y/N begged. Seungmin growled teasingly. He was ready. He took one long lick and nearly came right there. She tasted luxurious as if all the pregnancy and breeding had made her taste even more delectable. He couldn't believe the wolves wasted so much time depriving themselves of her and depriving her of pleasure. Y/N tasted better than before. Her slick was still juicy as ever. Seungmin wanted more. He needed her to squirt so he could drink her. Seungmin took his fingers and forced them into her hole as he sucked her clit. His two fingers started off slow and tormenting, but they soon quickened. They got faster. Harsher with want and need. Seungmin entered a third. Stimulating her more and more. He could smell and feel how close she was. She had even squeezed her legs tighter around his face. Grinding on him while he sucked and played with her. He could feel her build up and he knew it was a big one. He was prepared for her slick and he was rewarded with it. Y/N squirted straight into his mouth and he lapped it up like he usually did.

From then on, Seungmin wasted no time with fucking her. He needed to breed her. He was desperate for it. He fucked her harshly and deeply. Every position he could think of. He had Y/N on her back as every lover did, making sure he softly fucked her before he changed. Seungmin flipped her and fucked her from behind. It was his favourite position. Seeing the way her body arched as he took her. The way her breasts bounced the rougher he got. Then he took her on top. Fucking his seed into her over and over again as he knotted continuously until her belly swelled. When she did swell, Seungmin continued to fuck her. To make sure it was his because he was determined to have a pup inside her. Seungmin was determined to be the best father ever.

Taglist for the iconic readers:

@galaxy4489 @reallychaoticwoo @leezanetheofficial @mbioooo0000 @jisungs-iced-americano @maybeimmia @hwangrfrnd@wolfo2027 @kayleefriedchicken @leamueller920 @borahae-reads @jennibahng @cookiesandcreammy @jutdwae-flower @danceonmyheyday @jc003 @hpnsfwaddict @pixie0627

~ Taglist closed due to Tumblr only allowing a certain amount ~

[sweetvoidstuff]

Where You Belong - Part 2

Jungkook x Reader I Werwolf x Werwolf I Mates I Slow Burn I Asshole JK I Supernatural Romance I Yoongi I Violence

Summary : A festival meant to bring unity turns into something far more intimate when you catch the eye of a wolf who never intended to fall. Torn between the freedom to choose and the instinctual pull of a mate’s bond, you face both emotional and political pressure from the pack and outside forces. As loyalties are tested, the question lingers: will you run, or will you stay and claim your place?

Word Count: 35K (all Parts)

Masterlist

A/N: Hi! I’ve been meaning to post this one for a while, but I kept going back and forth on it. Life got a bit hectic, I got sidetracked, and took a few days off—so it took longer than planned. It didn’t turn out exactly how I first imagined, but for now, I’m calling it done. Maybe I’ll revisit and rewrite parts of it in the future, who knows. In the meantime, I really hope you enjoy it—please be kind, but I also welcome honest feedback.

Well, I wanted to post this as one, but Tumblr won’t let me…again... so I’ll be posting Part 1, Part 2 and Part 3 back to back. Sorry about that! Hope you still enjoy it!

Part 1 I Part3

---------------------

You were crying.

Not sobbing. Not wailing. But the quiet, shaking kind.

The kind that hurt.

And he would not let you go through this alone.

His jaw clenched, instincts screaming at him to move you, to take you somewhere safe, somewhere away from prying eyes. His tent was only a short walk away, tucked at the far edge of the festival grounds, where the fires burned low and the noise didn’t claw at your ears.

But he couldn’t move you.

Not without taking. Not without pushing. Not without making this worse.

So he did the next best thing.

Slowly, carefully— he dipped his head.

Brushed his chin—his throat, his scent gland—against the top of your head.

The action was soft, unspoken.

The barest pressure, his jaw gently pressing against your hair.

It was subtle, a barely-there movement, but the effect was immediate. His scent—warm, strong—clung to you now, burying itself in your hair, overpowering everything else.

Yoongi.

The festival.

The doubt.

And Jungkook—Jungkook finally let himself breathe.

Your fingers curled tight into the front of his shirt, holding on like you would fall apart if you let go.

His grip tightened, his arms strong, unyielding, as if he could somehow physically hold you together. As if his presence alone could keep you from falling apart completely.

And then—

A broken, shattered sound left your lips.

You tried to speak, tried to force something out between shaking breaths.

And when you finally did—Jungkook wished you hadn’t.

“I’m a freak,” you whispered. “An outcast. The weirdest Omega there is.”

Jungkook stilled.

“You—” your throat burned, voice barely above a whisper. “You can’t—”

You sucked in a sharp breath.

“You can’t want me.”

His grip on you tightened.

“You don’t,” you whispered. “Not really.”

Jungkook’s heartbeat was loud against your ear.

Your voice cracked as you continued, words spilling out like an open wound.

“No matter how good your reputation is, no matter how strong you are—you can’t entertain this.” Your breath shuddered. “This isn’t fun for me anymore.”

His arms tightened.

Tighter than before, tight enough to make his knuckles go white.

And Jungkook felt something ugly rise in his chest.

Rage.

Not at you.

At them. At him.

At every single person who had ever made you feel like this. Like you weren’t enough. He wanted to rip them apart.

Break bones.

Make them beg.

Jungkook growled.

The sound, deep and low in his chest, rumbled against you.

He swallowed, trying to force the anger down, to bury it beneath the need to comfort you.

But his voice—his voice was steel. And then—his grip tightened.

“If anyone—” he growled, his lips grazing the top of your hair, “ever makes you feel like that again—”

His grip tightened, his body trembling with the effort to keep himself in check.

“I will fucking break them.” His voice was dark, voice vibrating through his chest. “I don’t give a fuck who they are.”

His next breath was ragged.

“No one treats my mate like that again. No one.”

The sounds reach you first—footsteps, voices, the easy, careless laughter of wolves who don’t have to think twice about where they stand in the pack. You stiffen instinctively, though it’s not like you had truly relaxed in Jungkook’s hold to begin with. The weight of his arms around you had been grounding in a way you didn’t want to admit, the warmth of his scent something that soothed the sharp edges of your thoughts even as you tried to fight it.

But now—now that comfort was gone.

Jungkook sensed the shift immediately. His hold around you tightened, the muscles in his arms flexing as if to keep you from slipping through his fingers. A low, irritated sound rumbled in his chest, something close to a growl, and you weren’t sure if it was directed at the approaching voices or at himself for failing to keep you at ease.

Then they were there.

At first, they couldn’t see you, tucked against Jungkook the way you were, hidden by the broad shield of his body. But you could hear them clearly. The relaxed banter, the teasing undertone that meant they weren’t expecting anything serious.

Then, Jimin’s voice cut through the air, playful and sharp.

“Damn, Jungkook, you finally got rid of the defect?”

Everything inside you turned to ice.

The words hit like a punch to the gut, sudden and breath-stealing. Your body went rigid, breath catching in your throat. A familiar weight settled in your chest, heavy and suffocating, a feeling you had carried for years. You weren’t even surprised, not really. You should have expected it. Should have known that no matter what Jungkook said, no matter how many times he whispered reassurances in your ear, this was what they thought of you.

Jungkook moved before you could even register his reaction. His entire frame tensed, his chest expanding as he sucked in a sharp breath. The warmth of him against you changed—still burning hot, but now in a way that promised destruction. His head turned slightly, the motion shifting his arms just enough, giving you the smallest sliver of space.

A window of movement.

You bolted.

You didn’t think—you just moved.

One second you were pressed against him, the next you were twisting out of his grasp, slipping through the opening like a ghost. The sound Jungkook made—a curse, sharp and furious—was nearly drowned out by the surprised exclamations of his packmates as you tore away from him. Your feet hit the ground hard, your body propelled forward by nothing but instinct, nothing but the desperate need to be anywhere but here.

The scent of him still clung to you.

You hated it.

Hated that it was already familiar, that it was starting to feel safe when it shouldn’t.

Behind you, chaos erupted.

“What the—who was that?”

“Wait, was that—”

“Jungkook—what the hell—”

But you didn’t stop to hear the rest.

Jungkook’s reaction, however, was immediate.

“Jimin.”

The single word carried weight. Enough to silence everything, to kill the easy camaraderie in an instant. The laughter, the teasing, the amusement—all of it died.

Jimin, still trying to process what just happened, turned toward Jungkook with a frown, clearly expecting some kind of explanation. But when he met Jungkook’s eyes—his entire body went still.

Because Jungkook wasn’t playing.

For a moment, Jimin actually thought Jungkook was going to kill someone—him.

The look in Jungkook’s eyes was something dark, lethal. His pupils had blown wide, his entire body coiled with barely restrained fury. The muscles in his jaw clenched hard enough to crack, his shoulders squared in a way that made it clear he was holding himself back by sheer force of will.

Jimin had seen Jungkook angry before. Had seen him in fights, seen him after a failed hunt, seen him when something really pissed him off.

But this—this was different.

This was dangerous.

Jungkook took a slow, measured step forward, and every single wolf present stiffened. His head tilted slightly, a movement eerily reminiscent of a predator deciding whether to chase down prey.

“Say that again,” he said, voice low, guttural.

Jimin opened his mouth, then hesitated. His mind raced, piecing things together too fast for his own liking. The scent—Jungkook’s scent—it had been all over you. Heavy, unmistakable. Not just from proximity, not just from a casual brush of skin.

Jungkook had scented you.

Claimed you.

And Jimin—Jimin had just insulted you right to his face.

Fuck.

Jimin’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, a slow realization creeping over his features.

“This isn’t a joke, is it?” he asked carefully, his tone much more cautious now.

Jungkook’s hands curled into fists.

“Does it fucking look like a joke?”

Jimin exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath, finally understanding just how badly he had fucked up.

The moment the words left Jimin’s mouth, Jungkook moved.

There was no warning. No snarl, no buildup—just pure, unfiltered instinct driving him forward. One second Jimin was standing there, realization barely dawning in his widened eyes, and the next—Jungkook’s fist connected with his face.

The crack of bone breaking was sickening.

Jimin staggered back with a choked sound, blood immediately gushing from his nose, dripping down his chin, staining his lips. He clutched at his face, blinking rapidly, dazed, struggling to process the searing pain exploding across his features.

“Fuck—” he hissed, but Jungkook wasn’t done.

A vicious snarl ripped from his throat as he grabbed Jimin by the collar, yanking him close.

“You fucked up,” Jungkook growled, voice low, lethal. His breath was ragged, his chest rising and falling with the effort it took to contain the rage coursing through him. His entire body vibrated with fury, barely restrained violence coiled tight beneath his skin.

Jimin winced, blood still pouring down his face, but he didn’t fight back.

He knew he had made a mistake—a bad one.

“You’re going to find her,” Jungkook continued, his grip tightening like a vice, “and you’re going to apologize.”

Jimin nodded, fast, frantic.

But Jungkook wasn’t finished.

“And you better pray to the fucking moon she is more forgiving than I am.” He leaned in closer, voice dropping to something dangerous, quiet. “Because if she doesn’t forgive you, Jimin—if I so much as see a hint of distress on her because of you—I will break every single bone in your fucking body.”

Jimin swallowed thickly, genuinely afraid now.

Jungkook wasn’t bluffing.

And he wasn’t done making his point.

He turned his head slightly, glaring at the other packmates who had been present, the ones who had laughed, the ones who had stood there and watched as Jimin threw his careless insult into the air.

“This applies to you as well.” Jungkook’s voice was razor-sharp, cutting through the air like a blade. “You think you get to stand here and laugh at my mate without consequences?”

A few of them had the decency to look ashamed. Others looked wary, unsure how to react. But Jungkook didn’t care.

His tone final, absolute. “If she doesn’t forgive Jimin—if I find out that even one of you so much as made her hesitate to stay here—” He exhaled sharply, teeth bared in a snarl.

“I will make sure you regret it.”

Silence.

The tension in the air was suffocating. No one spoke. No one dared to.

And then—Jungkook released Jimin, shoving him back roughly.

“Go,” he ordered. “Now.”

Jimin didn’t hesitate.

With his nose still bleeding, his heart pounding, he turned on his heel and ran.

Because for the first time in his life—Jimin was afraid of Jungkook.

And he had never been so fucking determined to find someone and beg for forgiveness.

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Jungkook watched him go, chest still heaving, muscles still tense. He could feel the eyes of his pack on him, the weight of their silent questions, the shift in their perception.

And he didn’t give a single fuck.

His priority was you.

Because you had run from him again.

And this time—it was because of them.

Jungkook exhaled harshly, raking a hand through his hair, his mind a whirlwind.

If you didn’t forgive Jimin, if you didn’t want to stay—what then?

The thought hit him like a hammer to the chest, sudden and unwelcome.

If you left the pack…

Jungkook’s throat tightened.

Would he—would he leave with you?

The very idea made his heart clench painfully. He had never considered it before, never even entertained the notion of leaving his pack.

But you…

Fuck.

Jungkook clenched his fists, jaw set.

He still had time.

And he was going to spend every second of it making sure you didn’t want to leave.

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Jimin was fast.

But you were faster.

The only reason he could track you at all was Jungkook’s scent. It clung to you now, thick and undeniable, a guiding thread through the night air. Without it, he wouldn’t have had a chance.

Still—you made him work for it.

His lungs burned as he ran, his feet pounding against the dirt, the sounds of the festival fading behind him. The chase had taken you both further into the forest, where the moonlight barely reached, shadows stretching long between the towering trees.

And then—he saw you.

Just ahead, your form moved swiftly between the trunks, darting through the undergrowth with practiced ease.

“Hey!” Jimin called out, breathless. “Just stop for a second—”

You didn’t.

Jimin clicked his tongue in irritation. He wasn’t trying to make this harder than it needed to be. He needed to apologize, to smooth things over—mostly so Jungkook wouldn’t make good on his threat and actually break every bone in his body.

Honestly, Jimin didn’t care about you. He wasn’t heartless, but he’d never spent a second of his life thinking about you. And yet—here he was, bleeding, bruised, and chasing after you like his life depended on it.

Because, in a way, it did.

Jimin pushed himself harder, lungs straining, legs burning, until—finally.

He was close enough to grab you.

He reached out—

And in the blink of an eye, you moved.

One second, Jimin was certain he had you. The next—you had almost completely stopped, shifting your weight with expert precision. Before his mind could even process what was happening—

You flipped him.

Hard.

The moment his fingers brushed your arm, your body twisted, moving in a way no omega should have been able to. You used his own momentum against him, your balance near-perfect as you hooked your arm under his and leveraged his body into the air.

Jimin had barely half a second to realize—fuck, oh shit—

Then he was airborne.

And then—

The ground came up fast.

Pain exploded through his back as he slammed into the dirt, hard enough to knock the air from his lungs.

For a long, awful second, Jimin couldn’t breathe.

His vision blurred, chest convulsing as he struggled to inhale, to force air back into his stunned lungs. His body throbbed, shockwaves of pain radiating from where his spine had connected with the ground.

Fuck.

By the time he could process what had just happened—you were already gone.

Jimin barely managed to lift his head, still gasping for breath, just in time to see you disappear into the trees, changing direction so fast he had no hope of catching up if he hesitated.

The realization hit him like a punch to the gut.

You weren’t a normal omega.

Jimin had thought Yoongi had let you win. He had thought maybe Yoongi was weak.

But this?

He had completely underestimated you.

A part of him felt genuine awe. The rest of him—the larger, more immediate part—felt absolute fucking terror.

Because now, Jimin knew something for certain.

You weren’t easy prey. You were a predator.

And if Jungkook had scented you this much—if Jungkook had claimed you as his mate—

Then Jimin had really, really fucked up.

Forcing himself upright with a groan, Jimin staggered to his feet.

No more half-assed apologies. No more underestimating you.

If he didn’t find you, if he didn’t make this right—

Jungkook would kill him.

So, Jimin gritted his teeth, shook off the pain, and ran.

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

You had decided.

Fuck your pack. Fuck all of them.

You couldn't—wouldn’t—stay another second.

Not when Yoongi’s invitation still stood.

For a moment, you had believed Jungkook. Wanted to believe him. His words had seeped into the cracks of your heart, into all the places left raw and aching from years of being cast aside. Had even entertained the thought of you being his mate. But the reality was the pack would never let you live this down.

Even if Jungkook meant it, even if his words weren’t just some twisted joke—they would ruin it.

Best-case scenario? You truly were Jungkook mate, and he wanted you.

Worst-case? You were the broken omega who got fooled around and had her heart shattered.

No, thank you.

So, you ran.

For the first time in your life, you fought back. Had defined the order of your pack. You had thrown Jimin to the ground, and you had kept running. The weight of your decision pressed heavy on your chest, adrenaline fueling your every step.

But Jimin was persistent.

An alpha, like Jungkook.

It didn’t take him long to catch up again. And this time, he cornered you.

Shit.

Your feet skidded to a stop as you reached the edge of a steep clearing. The ground disappeared into nothingness.

A waterfall.

The drop wasn’t extreme—maybe five to seven meters—but the water below was dark and unknowable, swallowing the moon’s reflection whole.

Your heart hammered against your ribs.

Behind you, Jimin’s footsteps slowed. He came to a panting stop, hands braced on his thighs as he took in your surroundings.

He huffed a sharp breath, straightening. “Fuck, you’re fast.”

You ignored him.

Your eyes flickered back down to the water. It wasn’t shallow—not completely—but you couldn’t see the bottom. Couldn’t tell what waited beneath the surface.

Jimin followed your gaze—and his expression shifted.

His eyes widened.

“Hell no.” His voice was sharp, slicing through the night air. “Y/N, don’t even think about it! Jungkook will fucking kill me.”

You turned to him with a sharp glare, your decision already made.

“Well, why would I care?”

And before he could stop you—

You jumped.

For a split second—you fell.

Air rushed past your ears, wind tangling through your hair, your stomach dropping with the weightless, terrifying feeling of freefall.

And then—impact.

Jimin watched in shock and horror as you leapt over the edge, disappearing into the darkness below.

Where you fucking mental?!

His heart lurched, and he bolted forward, nearly tripping over himself as he reached the cliff’s edge.

And there you were.

Alive.

Swimming, already halfway to the shore, your body cutting through the water like you had done this a thousand times before. Jimin exhaled hard, running a shaky hand through his hair.

“Holy shit.”

You were daring. Fearless.

Or just crazy.

He let out a breathless laugh, shaking his head. A fucking omega did that, and he didn’t even dared to.

Fuck.

Jimin glanced at the drop once more, then squared his shoulders.

He backed up a few steps, bracing himself—then he sprinted forward and jumped.

The wind ripped past him, and suddenly, regret clawed at his throat. His arms flailed, his legs kicked out wildly—fuck, fuck, fuck—

Impact.

He hit the water hard, the cold swallowing him instantly. He sank, bubbles bursting around him, his lungs seizing at the shock.

And then—nothing.

Seconds stretched.

One.

Two.

Three.

You had barely reached the shore when you noticed.

Jimin wasn’t coming up.

A flicker of alarm went through you.

You hesitated for all of a second before diving back in.

The water was heavy, dark, but you forced yourself deeper. And there—Jimin. His body tensed, struggling against the weight of the dive, limbs sluggish.

Your hands grabbed his arm—strong, steady.

And with a forceful kick, you pulled him up. The moment his head broke the surface, Jimin gasped—harsh, ragged, choking on air. You dragged him toward the rocks, your muscles screaming in protest as you pulled him out of the water.

He collapsed onto his back, panting, his chest heaving. You weren’t faring much better. Dripping, exhausted, you flopped onto the shore beside him, breathing just as hard. Silence stretched between you.

Then—Jimin laughed. A breathless, nervous chuckle, his hand scrubbing over his face.

“You are one hell of an omega.”

You turned your head, glaring at him through wet lashes.

“Fuck you.”

Jimin’s lips stretched into a lazy, lopsided smirk. “No, really.” He exhaled deeply, tilting his head back against the dirt. “After this? I think all other omegas might be defective.”

You didn’t even think.

Your foot shot out, kicking him hard in the side.

Jimin let out a pained grunt, rolling onto his side, groaning.

Still, he chuckled through it. “Fair.”

You tried to move.

Your body ached, cold water dripping from your clothes, but you weren’t about to sit here and listen to whatever bullshit excuse Jimin was about to give.

But he grabbed your foot.

Not hard, not enough to hurt—just enough to stop you.

“Wait.”

Your glare snapped to him, fury burning behind your eyes.

“Let go, Jimin.”

You tried to yank your foot free, but his grip held firm.

“No, wait—really. At least let me apologize.”

You scoffed. “Oh? And why, exactly? So Jungkook doesn’t punch you again?”

You took a pointed look at his nose—bruised, swollen, slightly crooked. Jimin winced.

“Well—yes. I mean—no!” He exhaled hard, frustrated, struggling to string his words together.

You tried to kick him again, but he caught your foot before you could make proper contact.

“Give me a second, shit.”

And then—he exhaled, his grip loosening.

His voice dropped, quieter now.

“Fuck, I don’t care about you.”

Something in his tone was different this time.

And for the first time, you believed him.

So—you stopped struggling.

Jimin noticed immediately. His fingers uncurled, letting your foot rest in the dirt, but you didn’t bolt this time.

Instead, you waited.

His chest rose and fell, his breathing still uneven, but when he spoke again, his voice was steady.

“I don’t care about you.” He shook his head, finally pushing himself upright. His gaze flickered toward you, and for the first time since meeting him, there was something else in it. Recognition. Respect, maybe.

His lips parted, and he continued, “You could stay. You could go. Doesn’t matter to me, honestly.” A slow breath. “But it matters to Jungkook. And he’s my friend.”

Jimin tilted his head back, looking toward the cliff you both had just jumped from. The muscles in his jaw flexed, his mouth pressing into a thin line.

“For some crazy reason, he likes you.” His brows pulled together, his expression somewhere between bewilderment and understanding. “He even called you his mate. And, fuck—after this?”

He huffed out a small, breathless laugh, shaking his head.

“I kind of get why he does.”

The words hung between you, weighty. Unshakable.

Jimin turned back to you, shoulders relaxing.

“Stay, go—both are fine with me.” He exhaled sharply. “But I’m honestly sorry for misjudging you.”

For a long moment, you just stared at him. No hesitation. No mockery. Just the truth. You let out a small huff, looking away. And then—you blushed.

Embarrassing.

This was probably the longest conversation you had with anyone without being insulted. The first conversation where you actually believed every single word. So, finally—you nodded. Jimin let out a breath.

And for the first time, he smiled at you.

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Jungkook was pacing. His boots carved restless circles into the dirt, his hands flexing at his sides. How long had it been? You had bolted into the woods, Jimin on your heels, and there was still no sign of either of you.

He should have gone after you himself. Instead, he had been stuck here, left with his own thoughts, and fuck, he hated it.

His nerves were raw, wound so tight that the smallest thing could set him off. He had seen Yoongi and Namjoon walk past twice now, their sharp eyes scanning the crowd. They were looking for you.

Giving you another chance to leave. And right now? They had the worst fucking timing. Because they had noticed you weren’t with him.

Jungkook clenched his jaw, his body tensed like a wire. He needed to see you. Needed to know that you hadn’t just disappeared into the night with them.

And then—You walked out of the tree line.

Jungkook’s head snapped up. His body moved before he could even think, his eyes locking onto you like you were the only thing that mattered.

And for a moment, he felt relief. Then he saw Jimin walking beside you. Not dragging you. Not forcing you back. You were talking. Softly.

Jungkook froze. That was – good?

There was no tension in your body—at least, none that he could see. And Jimin? Jimin wasn’t smirking, wasn’t gloating. He looked almost… relaxed.

But you were drenched. Both of you. Soaked to the bone, hair dripping, clothes clinging tightly to your skin. Jungkook’s brows pulled together, anger flaring to life inside him. What the hell happened out there?

His first instinct was to march over to you, but something in the way you and Jimin looked at each other stopped him. A quiet chuckle passed between you. The sound sent a fresh wave of confusion crashing over him.

Because he knew what he was looking at.

Jimin and you weren’t friends, not really. But Jimin wasn’t mocking you anymore. He was treating you normal. And then he realized something else. Your scent. Or rather—the lack of it.

The scent he had painstakingly marked you with was already fading. The water had washed it away.

Again. His teeth ground together, his hands curling into fists. He didn’t even notice Yoongi and Namjoon approaching—not until Namjoon’s voice cut through the tension like a blade.

“Why are you wet?”

Jungkook’s eyes snapped to him, his irritation bubbling over.

“That’s what I wanna know, too.” His tone was sharp, almost a growl. His gaze raked over you, scanning for any injuries. “Are you hurt?”

But you just gave Jimin a look. And the asshole had the audacity to look pleading. Jimin knew Jungkook was pissed—knew that if you didn’t explain, Jungkook would actually kill him.

“Please, say something.” Jimin’s voice was half-joking, half-serious. “Or he’s going to rip my head off.”

But instead of answering, you grinned. Jungkook’s scowl deepened. And just as he was about to demand an explanation—

Yoongi sighed, already shrugging off his outer layer. "You need something dry."

Before you could protest, he was already extending the fabric toward you. Jungkook’s jaw ticked. His muscles coiled with tension. His first instinct? Rip Yoongi’s hand clean off. His second? Turn to Jimin and finish what he started. Jimin must have felt it too, because he subtly shifted a step away to you as if he wanted to hide behind you.

But just as Jungkook was about to explode, you spoke.

And you were smiling.

A real smile—not forced, not tense.

Jungkook stilled.

The light teasing in your expression as you glanced at Jimin made something unfamiliar stir in his chest. You were mocking Jimin?

Not angrily, not defensively—just mocking.

Jungkook didn’t know how to feel about it.

On one hand, it was good. It meant you were more comfortable around your pack. That was what he wanted, wasn’t it? But on the other—what the fuck had happened out there? He hated being out of the loop.

"No, thank you, Yoongi. Actually—"

You turned to Jimin, something unspoken passing between you.

"You sure?"

Jimin nodded. And then, you genuinely smiled at Jungkook. Jungkook froze. It was small. But it was real. He barely had time to process it before you placed your pinky fingers in your mouth and let out a sharp, piercing whistle.

The reaction was immediate. Heads turned. Conversations stopped. Every wolf in earshot snapped to attention. Then—your next words.

"There’s a waterfall over there. Seven-meter drop." Your voice rang clear – not an alpha voice but, challenging. "Who’s daring enough to do what Park and I did?"

Silence.

Then—chaos.

Murmurs rippled through the crowd, then outright exclamations.

"An omega jumped off a waterfall?"

"No way."

"Bullshit."

Jungkook barely registered the noise.

Because for a second—just one second—his expression broke.

His carefully guarded composure cracked. And when he turned slowly to Jimin, his voice came out in a low, dangerous growl.

"You made her do what, Jimin?"

Jimin winced.

"Man, I couldn't do anything about it!" he hissed back, voice quieter than yours had been. "I told her not to, but she just—she fucking—jumped!"

Jungkook gritted his teeth. Before he could respond, someone from the crowd called out—

"Sure, honey. You got yourself wet and now you need an excuse."

Laughter rippled through the pack. Jungkook’s fists clenched. You simply raised your chin. And boldly declared, "If you don’t believe me—watch me do it again."

Jungkook’s heart stopped. And then—you turned. And you started jogging back toward the waterfall. For half a second, the pack just stared.

Then—chaos.

Excitement exploded through the crowd. A mad rush of bodies followed your lead, wolves shoving past each other to keep up Jungkook fucking lost it. His body moved on pure instinct, sprinting after you. Fast.

"Are you insane?!"

He barely registered Jimin, Yoongi, and Namjoon hot on his heels. And the pack? They were following too. He could hear them behind him—dozens of them. The energy was electric, wild, the excitement infectious. But Jungkook’s mind was on one thing only. You. And making goddamn sure you didn’t actually jump again.

Jungkook was losing his mind. At first, it had just been you and him. Just him jogging beside you, trying to reason with you, trying to talk you down.

“Y/N, just—just stop for a second.” His voice was tense, breath steady despite the fast pace. “You don’t have to do this.”

And you—you laughed.

Not just at him—but at all of them.

Not a nervous chuckle. Not an uncertain, breathless giggle. A full, open laugh that rang through the trees.

You were leading a fucking parade.

Because now—there were many.

Jungkook could hear them. The pounding of feet, the shifting of bodies, the murmur of dozens of voices. Jimin following close behind. Namjoon and Yoongi that had ran after you just as fast.

Not just your pack. Not just wolves from your own home.

No—this had caught the attention of others.

Curious wolves from neighboring packs. Spectators drawn by the commotion.

Jungkook could hear them, the murmurs, the laughter, the taunts.

They wanted to see this. They wanted to mock you. They wanted to watch you fall. They wanted a good show.

But fuck that.

Jungkook’s blood was boiling.

Because he knew better.

This wasn’t a game to you.

And fuck, you were fast.

Jungkook’s teeth clenched as he kept pace, eyes locked on you, of course. Your movements were sharp, fluid, perfectly measured.

Your breathing? Controlled. Your footing? Flawless. Your speed? Increasing.

And then—

The scent hit him. Water. Jungkook’s stomach dropped.

“Y/N, slow down—”

You didn’t. You ran faster. Jungkook cursed under his breath and lunged, snatching your wrist in his grip. But you didn’t stop.

And you—You didn’t even flinch.

And he—he didn’t pull.

He just—held on. Like maybe, if he just kept holding on, you’d finally listen. But instead—You didn’t look scared or startled or cornered.

No. And for the first time since you started running, you met his eyes. You just looked at him. Your gaze was steady. Calm. Gentle. And then, softly—

“Trust me.”

Jungkook’s breath hitched. You smiled. This was real. This was raw. You looked at him. And then—you ripped away. Jungkook’s grip faltered, his body hesitating just a fraction of a second too long—

And you were gone.

Faster than before, feet pounding against the earth as you laughed. Laughed as if this wasn’t insane. As if this wasn’t reckless. As if you hadn’t just made his heart stop. And Jungkook’s chest constricted.

Then, at the top of your lungs—

"I DARE ALL OF YOU, YOU WHINY ALPHAS!"

And before Jungkook could even process what was happening—

You leapt. His heart stopped. For a split second. For a fraction of a moment—Everything inside him screamed.

And —

Without hesitation, Without thought, Without a single ounce of fear—

Without anything except the raw, gut-wrenching need to follow—

Jungkook jumped after you. The wind ripped past his ears, the air stolen from his lungs as he plummeted. The fall was fast, brutal, endless.

The second his body broke the surface, Jungkook sucked in a sharp breath.

The water was freezing, biting at his skin as he surged upward, breaking through with a gasp. For half a second, the impact had stunned him, the weightlessness of the fall vanishing the moment the water swallowed him whole. His heart was still hammering, his pulse erratic, his body already scanning for you.

And the first thing he heard—

Your laughter. And fuck—he had never heard anything like it.

A splash beside him—

Jimin.

Jungkook blinked water out of his eyes, turning just in time to see Jimin crash into the lake beside him, his yelp muffled by the water.

His second jump was less clumsy, but still followed by a cursing, sputtering, "Fuck, not again." Jimin gasped, blinking furiously as he pushed his wet bangs out of his face.

You were just a few meters ahead, floating easily, your body loose and relaxed. Your hair was a wet, tangled mess, strands clinging to your skin. The water shimmered around you, catching the moonlight in rippling streaks of silver. You looked alive in a way that stole his breath.

A sharp, incredulous laugh burst out of you as you swept a hand over your face, pushing your soaked hair out of your eyes. You threw your head back, shoulders shaking, laughter echoing against the rocky cliffs. It wasn’t careful. It wasn’t calculated. It was genuine, filling the space around you with something electric.

Jungkook barely took a breath before moving.

His arms pushed through the water, cutting through it like it was nothing, his legs kicking strong as he closed the distance between you.

You must have heard him coming, because when he was just within reach, you turned, eyes gleaming. “That was a good jump.”

Jungkook huffed, still breathless, but there was something wild in his expression as he reached for you. “You—”

You grinned, twisting just out of his grasp, playful.

And then—

More splashes.

Jungkook turned his head just in time to see the others jumping.

Some were hesitating at the top, staring down with wide eyes, uncertain.

At the very edge—

Yoongi and Namjoon.

Jungkook could see the calculations behind their gazes.

See the way Yoongi looked down at you—

Then at Namjoon—

Then back at the drop.

And then, Yoongi shrugged.

He jumped.

Namjoon, sighing heavily—

Jumped after him.

Jungkook’s jaw slackened.

What. The. Fuck.

His gaze snapped back to you.

And you were smiling.

Not just at him—

At all of them.

Because holy fuck.

They were jumping.

Jungkook twisted to look up.

The wolves that had chased after you, the ones who had mocked and laughed—

Some hesitated at the edge—he could see the flicker of uncertainty in their postures.

But many were jumping after you.

Jungkook felt something snap inside him.

Something he couldn’t even begin to name.

You were mad.

Completely, unapologetically, beautifully mad.

And Jungkook—

He was going to follow you.

Wherever the fuck you ran next.

The water parted as Jungkook closed the distance between you, his strokes powerful but controlled. He wasn’t chasing you this time—not exactly. But he was coming closer, his dark eyes locked on you like he needed to make sure you were real. But instead of running, you turned toward him fully, watching him close the distance between you.

You felt the heat of his presence even through the cool water. The way the intensity in his gaze softened into something he didn’t quite have the words for yet.

He reached out—not grabbing you, not pulling—but hovering, just barely touching your wrist beneath the surface.

Not that you needed him to.

You weren’t struggling. You weren’t afraid. You had just done the impossible. And Jungkook, for all his strength and dominance, seemed at a loss.

His mouth opened, but before he could put any of this into words—

A splash broke the moment.

“Told you that would definitely change their view of you.”

Jimin.

He swam toward the two of you, grinning. His nose was still bruised from where Jungkook had broken it, but there was no malice in his expression. If anything, he looked almost proud.

You smirked, nodding in agreement but still keeping close to Jungkook, who had yet to let go of you. Jimin’s eyes flicked between the two of you, amusement flickering across his face before he sighed dramatically.

“Can’t believe I had to nearly die twice just to help you with something this crazy.”

“You didn’t nearly die.” You rolled your eyes.

Jimin gave you a look. “I wasn’t breathing for a solid five seconds, thank you very much.”

Jungkook growled, voice low. “And yet you’re still talking.”

Jimin snorted. “And yet I’m still talking.”

He grinned, ducking under the water to shake his hair out before coming back up, still smug. “You should’ve seen their faces.”

And that’s when you heard it.

Murmurs.

Voices carrying over the water, alphas speaking amongst themselves. Not mocking. Not dismissive.

Confused. Impressed.

“She really did that?”

“Shit—did you see the way she jumped? Not a second of hesitation.”

“That’s the kind of omega we need—”

“She would make a strong mate. Respect.”

Jungkook stiffened beside you, the words sinking into him like stones in a river.

They weren’t seeing you as less anymore. They weren’t seeing you as defective.

They weren’t even seeing you as just an omega.

They were seeing you.

Jungkook’s grip tightened, his body instinctively shifting between you and the voices, protective even when he didn’t need to be. Even when you had just proven, in front of everyone, that you give them a run for there money.

But then—

A dark chuckle rippled through the water.

Yoongi.

He swam up alongside Namjoon, grinning like he’d just witnessed the most entertaining shit of his life.

Namjoon, of course, was slower, more calculated, taking in the scene with sharp eyes. But even he had that look—that impressed, knowing look.

Yoongi snorted, as he floated lazily.

“And here I thought we’d have to drag you out of this hellhole. Turns out you just had to make them piss themselves a little first.”

You laughed, tilting your head back into the water, utterly breathless.

Yoongi grinned, his best gummy smile breaking across his face as he swam toward you—too close for Jungkook’s liking.

You could feel it in the way Jungkook’s fingers twitched against your skin, his body still tense from everything that had just happened. But Yoongi, as always, didn’t give a single shit.

“Still hoping you decide to leave with us by morning.” His voice was casual, but his gaze was sharp—too sharp. Like he already knew what your answer would be.

His eyes flickered past you, scanning the water.

Some of the wolves were now swimming lazily, finally relaxing, as if trying to process what they had just witnessed. Others still stood at the cliff’s edge, hesitant, trying to gather the nerve to jump.

Yoongi took it all in with one glance, then turned away. He let the water carry him toward the shore, Namjoon close behind.

As they reached land, you could still hear them talking.

“Was that really necessary?” Namjoon asked, shaking his head as he wrung water from his hair.

“What?” Yoongi chuckled. “It was fun.”

Their voices faded as they walked further inland, but their presence still lingered.

Jimin, now back on shore, had already begun talking to some of your packmates—his voice low but animated. You couldn’t hear the conversation, but the way they were listening, their stances no longer hostile or dismissive, said enough.

You exhaled slowly.

You had done it.

They were finally seeing you.

You turned, intending to swim toward land yourself, but—

Jungkook’s grip tightened.

Before you could move, his arms wrapped around you, pulling you in.

The water rippled around you as he held you against him, keeping both of you afloat with ease.

His chest heaved, his breath brushing against the side of your face, his heartbeat—wild, erratic—pounding against your back.

“You’re crazy.”

His voice was low, rough around the edges, like he still hadn’t fully recovered from watching you leap off that cliff.

“Absolutely fucking crazy.”

You just smiled, tilting your head slightly to glance at him over your shoulder. “You followed me.”

Jungkook huffed, his grip tightening just a little more.

“Do you even know what you did?” His voice was quieter now, almost disbelieving.

The water swayed around you, cool and weightless, but the way Jungkook held you made it clear—he wasn’t letting go.

You had done something impossible. Something that had changed everything.

And Jungkook—his voice, his hold, his very presence—made it clear.

You weren’t getting away that easily.

You stared at Jungkook, confused.

His dark eyes were locked onto yours, his expression dead serious, as if he needed you to understand the full weight of his words.

“Do you even get what you just did?” His grip on you was firm, his voice low, almost vibrating through your bones. “You just carved yourself a fucking big place in the pack.”

You swallowed.

Jungkook’s fingers flexed against your waist.

“After this, no one is gonna talk shit about you ever again.” His voice turned almost feral, his possessiveness seeping through every syllable. “And if they do—” His jaw tensed, his muscles coiling under the water. “—my offer to break some bones still stands.”

Your face flamed, heat rushing from your chest to your ears.

You already knew what you had done. Knew what this moment meant. But hearing Jungkook say it so plainly, with such conviction, made something in your stomach twist.

You averted your gaze, suddenly shy, the high from the jump, from the run, from everything that had happened—it was still there, but this was different.

This was real.

Jungkook saw your reaction, and for the first time, a grin—soft, teasing—pulled at his lips.

He leaned in slightly, nuzzling the side of your temple in a way that made your heart stutter.

“I’m a little offended, though,” he murmured, his breath warm against your ear.

You frowned, glancing at him. “What?”

“That you planned all of this with Jimin.” He gave you an exaggerated pout, though the amusement in his voice was unmistakable. “Not me.”

You let out a breathy chuckle, shaking your head.

“I was kinda hoping you’d be pissed about it.”

Jungkook scoffed, tilting his head. “Oh, I am.” His fingers tightened, his hold on you growing more possessive. “But I’m also fucking happy, so I’ll let it slide.”

A warmth spread through your chest at his words, at the raw pride in his voice. His nose brushed against your cheek, and suddenly his teasing tone vanished, replaced by something deeper, rougher.

“But you need to stop getting rid of my scent.”

Your breath hitched.

You blinked, looking up at him, pulse hammering against your ribs.

The way he said it—low, commanding, unmistakably Alpha—sent a shiver down your spine.

You felt the burn of your own blush creeping up your neck.

You scoffed, looking away. “You’re still sure about that?”

You didn’t dare ask the real question—the one pressing against your tongue, the one you were almost too afraid to hear the answer to.

Are you still sure about me?

But Jungkook understood anyway.

His growl was quiet, but it rumbled through the water like distant thunder.

And then—

He yanked you closer.

So close that you couldn’t even hold yourself afloat anymore.

But you didn’t need to.

Jungkook had you. Held you. Kept you so securely against him that there was no space between you at all—your chest pressed against his, legs tangled beneath the water, his arms locking you in a grip so unyielding it was as if he was afraid you’d disappear.

Your heart pounded as his lips brushed against your ear, his breath hot, shaky.

“I am so fucking serious about you.”

His voice was like gravel, raw with emotion, with something darker, deeper.

His fingers dug into your hips, pressing you against his solid, wet body, his scent flooding your senses despite the water.

“My omega.” His lips ghosted over your temple, his teeth grazing your skin.

“My mate.”

Your breath stuttered.

Jungkook pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes ablaze with something wild and primal.

And then—his expression shifted.

A sharp, dangerous smirk curled his lips.

“And you better give me some kind of reassurance, little one.” His grip on your waist tightened, his thumb stroking slow, firm circles into your bare skin. “Because if not, I swear to fucking god—”

His gaze flickered past you, toward the shore.

Where too many alphas were watching you now.

Some were just talking.

Some were still stunned.

And some—too many—were looking at you like they had just realized something they hadn’t before.

Jungkook’s fingers flexed against your skin, and his voice dropped to a snarl.

“I’m gonna have to fight off every single one of those bastards.”

Your eyes widened.

Jungkook wasn’t joking.

You swallowed hard, suddenly hyperaware of the way he was holding you—how tightly, how completely. You felt small against him, but not in a way that made you feel weak.

Just… wanted.

Protected. Claimed.

And you weren’t sure how to handle it.

You had been so ready to leave this pack—so sure that you didn’t belong here, beside your feelings.

And yet, now…

Now, Jimin was defending you, laughing with you.

Now, your pack was looking at you with something close to admiration.

Now, Jungkook was holding you like he’d never let go.

You suddenly felt shy.

Your fingers curled slightly against his chest, your body tense with something you didn’t know how to process.

You had told Yoongi you’d give your decision in the morning.

But pressed against Jungkook like this—

Surrounded by the approval you’d craved your whole life—

Jungkook let out a soft huff, sensing your hesitation, sensing how overwhelmed you felt.

And just like that, the tension in his body eased.

He wouldn’t push you.

Instead, he just nudged his nose against your cheek, inhaling softly.

“At least…” His voice was lower now, rough but gentle. “Don’t get rid of my scent again.”

Your stomach flipped.

You blushed harder, looking away.

Jungkook chuckled.

“It should keep most of the other wolves away from you.”

And with that, he guided you toward the shore, leading you to land.

Leading you closer to Jimin, to his friends.

Your face was burning.

Not from embarrassment, but from the way so many eyes were on you now.

For the first time in your life, your pack wasn’t just looking past you, through you, around you.

They were seeing you.

And not just your pack.

Jimin was in the middle of a dramatic retelling to a group of alphas and betas, his hands waving wildly as he animatedly described how you had thrown him over your shoulder and sent him crashing into the ground.

And the moment you had first jumped—reckless, wild, free.

Some wolves were still hesitant, still adjusting their views of you. But others…

You could see it. The shift.

You still weren’t what they would call a normal omega.

Your scent wasn’t alluring in the way omegas were supposed to be. It wasn’t sweet, wasn’t gentle.

But the first time ever, you weren’t some defect to pity—you were something else entirely.

Something bold. Daring. Fearless.

And for the first time, you didn’t feel like an outsider.

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

The festival was in full swing now.

The massive campfire at the center of the grounds blazed high, its flames crackling into the night air. Shadows flickered across the gathering of wolves—packs mingling, old rivalries being temporarily set aside, stories being shared.

And for the first time, you weren’t standing on the sidelines.

You were part of it.

You had changed into dry clothes, the warmth of the fire against your skin soothing after the cold water. Most of your pack had done the same, and as you stood watching the fire rise, the hum of conversation around you shifted.

People wanted to talk to you now.

Not just Jungkook, not just Jimin.

Other omegas had started approaching you, their eyes gleaming with something new—admiration, curiosity.

One of them, a smaller omega named Hana, grinned at you, her eyes flickering mischievously.

“You know, I might be a little jealous of you.”

You blinked.

Jungkook—standing close enough to touch, but still giving you space, space for them to approach—stilled.

Hana smirked at your confusion.

“Your scent.” She gestured toward you, shaking her head. “It’s so faint—barely there unless someone’s really trying to find it.” She huffed. “Do you know how perfect that is for sneaking up on people? It’s not fair. I could never get away with half the shit you probably can.”

You laughed, shaking your head.

“Trust me, it wasn’t exactly a blessing before today.”

Jimin suddenly joined the conversation, his arm draping lazily around your shoulders as he smirked at Hana.

“Yeah, but let’s be real.” He squeezed your shoulder, his voice mock-serious. “I never had a single chance of finding her. Not without Jungkook’s scent still on her.”

Your eyes snapped to Jungkook, who immediately tensed.

Hana’s gaze widened in realization, before giggling.

“Oh my god. That’s true, isn’t it?”

And then—to your horror—she turned to Jungkook, her grin mischievous.

“So is that why she smells like you? So she can’t get lost or so she can’t be a menace?”

Jungkook grumbled something, crossing his arms.

And then—as if on cue—two of Jungkook’s friends, Seokjin and Hoseok, swooped in.

Hoseok pretended to be concerned, his brows furrowing dramatically.

“That’s actually kind of dangerous.” He exhaled, shaking his head. “What if we can’t find her next time?”

Jimin grinned, his eyes flicking to you.

“Obviously, we need to just scent her at least twice a day from now on. You know, for safety reasons.”

“The hell you will,” Jungkook snapped.

Seokjin grinned wide.

“Fine, then. Jungkook needs to do it.”

The group erupted into laughter.

Your entire face went up in flames.

Jungkook growled.

Not because he was angry, but because he was watching you blush so fucking beautifully, and it was driving him insane.

Hoseok clapped a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder, his smile all teeth.

“No choice now, man. It’s for the good of the pack.”

Jungkook just exhaled, watching you.

Watching the way you laughed, the way you tried to hide your burning face, the way you fit so perfectly here now.

The festival was still alive with laughter, music, and the steady crackle of the bonfire. The flames flickered high, casting golden light over the gathered wolves, shadows dancing across their faces as voices rose in conversation. The scent of roasted meat, woodsmoke, and the mingling scents of different packs filled the air.

And for the first time, you stood at the center of it all.

Wolves kept approaching you—some curious, some excited, some just plain in awe.

Many of them were omegas, their expressions filled with something that made your chest ache—admiration, maybe even relief.

One, a tall girl with soft brown curls, hesitated before stepping forward, her eyes darting around nervously before settling on you.

“I just—” She took a breath. “I just wanted to say thank you. For what you did today.”

Your brows lifted. “Thank me?”

She nodded.

“I’ve… I’ve always been scared to do things like that. To fight back. To push my limits.” She swallowed, her hands curling into fists at her sides. “But after today, I think—no, I know—I want to be stronger. So… thank you.”

A strange warmth settled in your chest, and you opened your mouth to respond—

Only for another omega, a smaller boy with freckles across his nose, to step in, grinning.

“You made all the alphas shit themselves a little, too.”

Laughter rippled through your little group.

“It’s true,” another voice chimed in—this one deeper, a beta with sharp features and amused eyes. “I heard one of the Silverfang alphas muttering about ‘unstable omegas’ and looking like he’d swallowed a lemon.”

That made you laugh.

You had never thought you’d see the day when people looked at you like this—like you were something more than a fragile thing meant to be protected, claimed, or controlled.

And then—of course—some of the more cocky alphas had to make an appearance.

One of them—a broad-shouldered guy from another pack—strolled up, arms crossed, smirking.

“Alright, alright, we get it. You’re a badass. But let’s not pretend like you’re some kind of invincible warrior.”

But before you could say anything—

“Shut the fuck up, Taejin,” someone cut in sharply.

You blinked.

It hadn’t been Jungkook or even Jimin.

It was one of your own packmates—a beta, normally quiet, his eyes flashing in annoyance.

And just like that, the tension in your shoulders unraveled. Because it wasn’t just you standing up for yourself anymore. Your pack had started defending you, too. Taejin raised his hands in mock surrender, but the cocky edge in his smirk faded.

Jungkook, who had been watching all of this closely, relaxed a little.

He had stayed close to you all night—a constant presence at your side. But unlike before, he didn’t try to pull you away, didn’t try to stake his claim or keep you isolated.

He let your pack come to you.

Let them befriend you like he should have let happen ages ago.

And yet—he never strayed far.

Even as you laughed, even as you talked, his warmth was always there, lingering just close enough to remind you he was watching, waiting.

But giving you the space to choose.

The fire had burned lower, the embers glowing red and gold against the dark night. The steady hum of conversation had softened as wolves either drifted off to sleep or curled together in smaller groups, talking in low voices.

Across the clearing, Namjoon and Yoongi stood at the edge of the festival grounds, watching the interactions unfold.

Watching you.

Namjoon let out a slow breath, arms crossed over his chest.

“You still think she’ll come with us?” he asked, his voice quiet.

Yoongi didn’t answer right away. Instead, his eyes traced the scene in front of him—your pack, gathered around you, laughing, talking, nudging your shoulder like they should have years ago.

Jungkook was close, but not overbearing.

He wasn’t acting like he was claiming you.

But he was there.

Hovering at just the right distance, never letting you out of his sight.

Yoongi hummed, taking his time before replying.

“… Nah,” he finally said, slow and thoughtful. “I wish—but now that they see her? I don’t think they’ll let her go.”

Namjoon let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head.

“You should have let her win easily and asked her afterward.”

At that, Yoongi let out a sharp huff of amusement, tilting his head in acknowledgment.

“Probably.” His gaze slid back to you. Then, without meaning to, he felt another set of eyes on him.

Jungkook.

Yoongi smirked when he saw the younger wolf shift his weight, his expression darkening slightly in that subtle, protective way.

Then, without looking away from Jungkook, Yoongi muttered, “Yeah, but look how happy she seems.”

Namjoon followed his gaze—to you.

Your laughter carried through the air, light and carefree, as you elbowed Jimin for whatever joke he had made. One of your packmates had an arm slung around your shoulders, and someone else—an omega from another pack—was leaning in, their expression open and friendly.

For the first time, you looked like you belonged.

Namjoon sighed. “Yeah… I see it.”

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

As the night stretched on, the festival slowed.

Wolves started retreating into their tents, exhaustion creeping in after the long day. Some alphas, already paired with their mates, had wandered off well before now, their scents lingering in the air—faint traces of warmth, affection, and possessiveness all mixed together.

The fire had burned low, leaving the clearing bathed in shadows and dying embers. Jungkook, who had been watching you the entire night, felt something in his chest shift when you finally let out a yawn, stretching your arms above your head.

You were tired.

Ready to go to bed.

But when you grabbed your bag and started walking—not toward the main cluster of tents, but toward the farthest edge of the camp—Jungkook’s stomach dropped.

Your tent was too far away.

His jaw clenched as he followed you with his eyes, something uneasy curling in his gut.

He had been fine—or at least, he had convinced himself he could be fine—letting you go to sleep on your own if your tent had been close to your pack.

But now?

Now, he couldn’t.

Now, you weren’t just an omega.

You weren’t just some outsider anymore.

You had half the alphas in the festival either intrigued by you, impressed by you, or already considering how they could get close to you.

And you had barely a scent to track you.

Jungkook’s entire body tensed.

There was no fucking way he was letting you sleep alone.

Not out here.

Not tonight.

Before you could disappear into the dark, Jungkook was already moving.

Jungkook appeared beside you so suddenly that you startled, your tired mind still caught in the comfortable haze of warmth from the festival fire. You blinked at him, eyes a little bleary, surprised despite knowing he'd been near you all night.

“Jungkook?” you murmured, slowing your steps slightly.

His expression was stiff, his jaw set—like he was uncomfortable with what he was about to say.

“Your tent,” he said, voice low. “It’s too far off.”

You frowned, glancing toward the darkened corner of the camp where your tent had been set up. The spot had been chosen deliberately—back when your pack still saw you as an inconvenience, something to be pushed to the outskirts so they wouldn’t have to deal with you.

Some of Jungkook’s friends had even joked about it earlier.

“We put you so far away, we don’t even have to see you,” someone had muttered, back when the festival had just begun.

Jungkooks lips pressed into a thin line, and his grumble was almost frustrated, as he saw you hesitate. “Yeah, I know.” He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “When we were setting up for the festival, I thought it was funny. I laughed about how we put you so far away.”

His fingers twitched.

“Now, I fucking hate it.”

Your chest tightened.

Jungkook shifted closer. “You can’t sleep there.”

His voice left no room for argument.

Your gaze flickered back to the tent, then to him.

“Why not?”

Jungkook’s brows furrowed.

“It’s not safe.”

For some reason, that made you snort.

You were an omega—but tonight had proven that you weren’t the fragile, helpless thing some of them still thought you were. And Jungkook knew that better than anyone.

So you lifted a brow, lips twitching.

“Then where do you think I should sleep?”

The moment the words left your mouth, Jungkook froze.

And then—

He blushed.

Furiously.

A dark, red flush crept up his throat, warming his ears, his cheeks, his entire face.

He looked caught.

You still hadn’t said anything about becoming his mate. You hadn’t even said if you were going to stay with his pack.

And yet—

Jungkook swallowed hard, ears still burning.

“It’s fine,” he said stiffly. “I’ll just keep watch.”

Your eyebrows shot up.

“Oh?” you mused, your lips quirking at the edges. “You’re going to stay up all night? Watching my tent?”

Jungkook glared.

“Don’t try to change my mind.” His voice dropped lower, more serious. “I’m watching over my mate.”

Your breath caught.

Jungkook’s eyes burned into yours, steady and unwavering.

His next words sent a shiver down your spine.

“I saw how some of the others looked at you.”

His jaw clenched.

“So yeah. I’m keeping watch.”

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Jungkook had been content.

It had been about thirty minutes—long enough for you to shuffle around inside your tent before going still. Long enough for him to settle into his post, his arms crossed as he kept watch over the darkened festival grounds. He had already caught the lingering scents of alphas from other packs passing too close for his liking. They had turned away eventually, but Jungkook wasn’t sure if it was because of his scent keeping them at bay or if they had just changed their minds.

Either way, he wasn’t risking it.

So he stayed put.

The night air was crisp but not unbearable, the distant sounds of celebration fading into the soft crackling of the massive bonfire still burning at the center of the camp.

Jungkook exhaled slowly.

And then—

Movement.

His ears twitched as he heard rustling from inside your tent. Even before you poked your head out, he was already looking at you.

Your sleepy, skeptical gaze met his.

“You really wanna sit there the rest of the night?”

Jungkook didn’t even hesitate.

He nodded.

Your annoyance was immediate. You huffed, rubbing your forehead like he was being unreasonable.

“Do you at least want to get yourself a blanket?”

Jungkook only grinned. “Not risking it.”

You groaned, exasperated.

Your fingers twitched at your sides, your entire body tensing like you were debating something serious.

Then—

You sighed.

Your expression flattened, your lips pressing into a thin line.

And then you muttered, “Fine. Come inside.”

Jungkook froze.

His brain short-circuited.

Had you just—

His heartbeat stuttered.

And then—

You disappeared back inside.

Jungkook sat there, stunned, staring at the now-closed flap of your tent.

Had you just invited him in?

For a solid heartbeat, he didn’t move.

Then—after another sharp glance around the area, his ears straining for any nearby movement—he rose to his feet.

And followed you inside.

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Part 3

[internetgiraffekid1673]

Yeah, still going feral over the EAH books, not sorry. Forget the Dragon Games. Let's talk about how Basketball works in the EAH universe. Might wanna strap in lads, cuz it's a WILD fucking ride.

So we see them play basketball in the EAH books exactly once in The Storybook of Legends, during Grimnastics class, and it's one of my favorite seens. It technically has all the normal rules of basketball except for two things.

1) everyone has to carry a basket of pastries on their arms. All thr pastries in this basket must stay untouched over the course of the game.

2) about 5 minutes into the game, hungry feral wolves are released onto the court.

During the basketball game we observe, several things of note happen that are great at summarizing people's characters:

1) Cerise is obviously the only one who ends the game with an untouched basket

2) Daring thinks he's hot shit and immediately falls for feints from the Rebel team.

3) Dexter is better at basketball than Daring

4) C.A. Cupid gets fouled for flying above the court in an effort to escape the wolves, and then drops her basket into one's mouths anyways.

5) Kitty straight up ignores the rules and spends the whole game chilling on top of the basketball hoops, much to the consternation of coach gingerbread.

6) Ashlynn uses her unique powers of animal speech to negotiate with the wolves. She ends out feeding them one pastry out of her basket, and does not get mauled in exchange.

7) Lizzie gets chased by a wolf and keeps shouting OFF WITH IT'S HEAD, and Hunter steps in to save her, despite them being on opposite teams.

8) In doing so, he rips off his shirt and strikes a hero pose, which causes invisible trumpets to blare

9) As Raven and Maddie have to explain to C.A. Cupid, this happens a lot. It's a Huntsman thing, called the Huntsman-to-the-Rescue move, and Maddie's pretty sure it's so their shirts stay clean.

10) Raven finds Hunter's chivalry exasperating, Maddie finds it sweet, and Cupid finds his shirtlessness hot.

11) Apple, who has neverending team spirit, keeps attempting to cheer the team to the win even after the ball disappears and everyone is pretty sure a wolf ate it.

12) Dexter is a good sport and keeps playing the game even after the ball has been eaten, even though it's mostly just wolves and screaming and spilled pastries at this point.

13) Raven is extremely tired, has more important things to be doing, and says this almost makes her miss dodgeball. Almost.

14) The class "naturally" divides into two teams: Royals vs. Commoners. These categories will later turn into Royals vs. Rebels, more out of loyalty to each other and the principle of the thing rather than their actual opinions on their personal destinies. Raven always hangs with the commonors, despite being royalty, because the royals are jerks.

[fandomfluffandfuck]

last night i went to an industrial punk rave and it was music all night until suddenly a burlesque performer came out and did a song. it was very hot and i was just thinking about stucky in this situation, i need burlesque performer bucky in my life

I fucking love the mental image this has put in my head 💀💀 I love punk shit like this, like, what the fuck [affectionate]

And you know what else I immediately pictured when you suggested this situation? Bucky in this situation-?

Don't we all wanna see what's under those layered shirts and that jacket? I mean, we can see all that we're working with with his painted on fucking jeans but, god, I can always do with a little more information, too.

If we're going off the theatrics and playful, artistic tease of burlesque as opposed to the overt sexual tension of stripping, then I'm thinking of the full fantasy--

Bucky the White Wolf.

When the number begins, lights dim, crowd buzzing with anticipation, he's the only person on stage.

He's dressed not in glitzy, glamorous, figure-hugging yet layered, salacious clothes that drape and cling perfectly. He's not dripping in all kinds of gorgeous fabric--suede, leather, silk, fur, and the like that make everyone in the audience (including Steve) itch to touch. He's, just, normal.

It makes the audience lean in, paying extra special attention to the performer who exploits this intrigue.

Steve shifts in his seat, eyeing this performer up and down and finding--

Oh.

He likes what he finds.

This fucking guy with his shaggy, dark hair and five-o'clock shadow is fucking delicious in his beaten-to-shit workboots, heavy and loud stomping confidently across stage, his painted-on jeans that've started to rip at the knees from raw wear, it isn't a fashion statement, those electric glimpses of skin, and his flannel work-shirt layered over some ribbed, kinda-stained wife beater. It should be an ugly outfit. But...

Holy shit, does this slab of muscle fill out his clothes.

Steve can practically hear the seams of his clothes scream when the performer steps out of the spotlight to retrieve a damn camp chair.

He drops it unceremoniously in the center of the stage, perfectly lit, and spreads himself out in it.

The way his legs part, knees spread w i d e , makes Steve dizzy.

Thank the fucking lord, he's a manspreader. Steve swallows back a hearty groan.

That's a lot of thigh.

Thick, muscular legs so powerful and wide that the inseams of his blue jeans have started to split around those fucking thighs. They rub together when the big man walks.

Holy shit.

He can't be contained.

Steve doesn't understand--he can't comprehend how he slid into those fucking jeans. Why the shit even is the big guy wearing a belt? Thick leather with a shining buckle that the man tucks his thumb behind. Big Man doesn't mind the way his belly bulges softly when he sits.

He's not bodybuilder strong, built to show off--lean and carved--he's working man strong. Robust. Thick muscle with this extra-thick well-fed layer of softness making him all the bigger. Broader. Hotter.

Steve doesn't mind the slope of his belly, just behind that belt buckle, if anything, his mouth waters more.

This man is big.

This man is confident.

He's sitting on stage, not doing a damn thing save for spreading his fucking legs and the audience is enraptured by him.

The sheer power he holds is unbelievable. He is heavy machinery personified. A mountain man--a mountain of a man. Every breath is held watching him sit. Perfectly still. No one makes a sound.

And the music builds--low and sexual as hell--underneath it all.

Until, correction, suddenly, the lights swoop down and back up and Big Man is not the only person on stage anymore: he's the only man on stage.

Steve's queer little heart pounds so hard in his chest it hurts.

What is he supposed to do with all that?

How is he supposed to cope?

This big man and a sudden ensemble of ladies slick and demure as they creep toward the man.

Step. by. step.

The women are as curious as the rest of the audience, but they're clearly part of the show, dressed in matching, impractically tight, thin winter-jacket-styled coats that end at mid-thigh and are laced with faux fur.

The white, quilted-looking jackets and purred edges lead toward mile-long legs swathed in pale white, opaque stockings and feet placed precariously into shimmering, silver rhinestone heels. For jackets that lack arms and hardly cover their asses, they, amusingly enough, have hoods, leaving the sinfully angelic figures completely anonymous.

Those outfits are much more like what Steve would expect from a burlesque show.

He doesn't expect, though, to suddenly have the crowd of approaching women's hands creep deliciously across Big Man's body. All of it. Especially, the crowd of admirers pay attention to his fucking huge shoulders and ridiciously thick chest. Chasing up his arms and legs, quivering over his bulging crotch, and groping his massive, hard chest.

Tensions and fevers rising all around, the ladies break into a fight over the man.

Steve certainly understands why they fight for just a peice of him as his devastatingly handsome face splits into a cocky smirk, head tilted back, dimpled chin jutting forward, eyelids lazily lowered, evidently enjoying the attention, leaning into it, and letting the ladies push and pull him however they like. They can have their fun, treating him like a rag doll until he decides he's done.

He isn't done until they tear his clothes from him, stripping him down to bare skin.

Almost naked and he is still in control.

Steve is so fucking hard in his jeans, watching it unravel.

Unraveled, bared, exposed--Big Man is left in nothing except for a black leather harness to frame heavy, heaving, hairy tits and an equally black jockstrap with a furry grey-white-black tail swishing from the back.

Steve doesn't understand until his attention is ripped from the Big Man by force, catching an eyeful of one of the many, many women fighting for one taste of all that meat.

Oh.

Oh.

They've been tearing at each other too, flinging off hoods to reveal headbands decorated with cute rabbit ears, unzipping coats to bare heavy breasts, shimmying out of stockings, finding just skin underneath, and stepping out of heels to tip-toe and rush across the stage without falling. All in all, the flurry and fight has left them in nothing but white bras that barely contain their tits and white panties that hold little cotton tails just above their round asses.

Oh.

They're playboy bunnies.

And that makes--

Fuck.

It all comes together in Steve's bewitched, half-melted brain.

Suddenly, he shivers in his seat, recalling the playbill his embarrassed eyes barely skimmed and his blushing face couldn't, well, face, not even out of the corner of his eye. Natasha laughed at him for it. When in Rome, she started, proceeding to read it out loud to him until he slapped her shoulder, making enough of a scene she reluctantly quit.

The white wolf.

He's a fucking wolf.

And he's such a fine, charming wolf that these rabbits, his prey, are fighting to be devoured without him ever having said a word to any of them.

With a mortifying whimper slipping from his open lips, mercifully muffled by the blasting speakers, Steve understands. He wants to be hunted by this wolf, if being hunted means being pursued predatorily by a man of rippling muscle--bulging all arms, tits, and legs--deliciously wrapped in golden-tan skin and dusted by thick, dark hair.

He is a vision.

Prowling, his thighs are easily thick enough to crush a watermelon or Steve's head, suffocating him.

Plucking off each rabbit, one by one. It looks so unbelievably fluid, like it's too easy for him. He drags those cotton tails around like the delicate creatures they are, hardly exerting himself as he flings them away and shakes them off--showing them all his gleaming white teeth with a tantalizing growl before he does it.

All but naked, barely held into that tight harness and jock-strap with his faux fur tail swaying between his legs (just like his cock would, Steve can see how fucking hung Big Man, White Wolf, is), he snarls at one bunny. Then, the next, too, sneering attractively only to wrap one big paw around a different one's ankle, dragging her underneath his body. He covers her completely. Bodily pressed against her. Blanketing her. A brick wall to a feather.

With her under his control, he wastes no time before he kisses down her throat--savagely, smolderingly, lips to her vulnerable throat--stopping just before her tits only to leave her there. Twitching prey, slayed and bleeding out her dying lust all over the stage. Fearsomely, no, arousingly, Big Man switches to the next, swiftly taking her down too--

Except, the next bunny dares to raise her paws to place a new prop, pinning the dark, alluring curtain of the wolf's mane back from his dangerously attractive face with a headband of his own. The headband is sort of like her playboy bunny ears but also not at all--

It's an accessory to drive home the point: the white wolf.

It's a headband with fuzzy, black, grey, and white blended wolf ears. They match his thick, furry tail. It should be silly. It shouldn't make Steve squeeze his thighs together the way he does--wanting desperately to feel the Big Man's panting, humid breath against his neck, his muzzle seconds away from tearing into him.

Jesus.

Still, the show goes on.

Hotter and hotter. The air in the room has evaporated, leaving a boiling-hot charge that threatens to grill Steve alive.

The wolf rips through all these pretty little cotton tails until each of them has fainted limp, swooned flat on stage. Some lay on their backs, others on their fronts; either way, all of them half-breathe, half-moan with their breasts heaving, almost spilling out of their tiny little bras, still desperate for a second chance with the wolf. Eat me, they beg. Eat me.

Only then does it end, when they're all slain...

The wolf, satisfied and sweating--glistening--prowls off stage, his thick, defined muscles rippling, tail swishing. All that body.

Good god.

Steve needs that big, wolfish man more than he needs oxygen.

[sterekchub]

Okay, I see the werewolf restaurant idea, but make it a werewolf trap. Like, is it hunters? Another supernatural monster? The nogitsune? Who knows! All that matters is that Derek can’t stop eating the delicious food that they keep putting in front on him, even as his chair breaks and his clothes burst at the seams!

I LOVE the haunting aesthetic of that diner that only sometimes appears. Sometimes when people need it. Other times when it's planning to snare someone in. The one that looks like a completely abandoned building or an empty field when you leave it. Makes sense that Derek stumbles across it in the preserve. Thinks he got lost and stumbled too close back to town, but he doesn't hear any cars or other noise of the city. It's Beacon Hills. He should know better and shouldn't go in, but it seems so normal. Smells like food and sounds like conversations and clinking of glasses and plates. Harmless enough he walks in. Sits down and then suddenly loses track of time. Can't remember ordering the food, but as soon as he's done his plate, more gets delivered. Doesn't even keep track of what he's eating. Steak and eggs, burgers, pancakes, cheesecake, at one point he thinks it was just a plate of bacon and fries piled a foot high. It all tastes normal. Diner food. Nothing amazing, nothing bad, just the filing, comfort food. But Derek eats. Steady pace. Doesn't stop, doesn't get up and try to check the time or wonder why he can't seem to remember his waitress face the second she walks away. That the other people in the diner are talking but...it sounds like static instead of words. Derek eats. Stopes and shifts uncomfortably in his chair, the pain of something tightening around his middle getting worse and worse, until the button pops off his jeans and with a sigh of relief, Derek has more room. Goes back to eating. It keeps like that every time. A few pauses- to stifle a belch in his hand, listen to the seams ripping on his pants. His shirt rising higher and higher up his belly, and then starts stretching out further as his chest softens and droops, then starts swelling into proper moobs. Notices his hands are getting wider. Sausage like fingers grabbing for the fork now. It should worry him, but he keeps reaching for another bite. He can't see the size of his now immense belly under the table, but gets a hint when he realizes his hips now fill the entirety of the booth bench. It doesn't stop it. Only vaguely annoys him that he has to lean forward now to get the food in front of him, upper half of his belly pressing into the table each time. Chair cracks and he goes sprawling to the ground. Waitress starts placing the dishes on Derek's now table sized mountain of blubber, and he doesn't question it. Just keeps eating. (Or the darker version. That Derek knows what's happening but can't stop it. Screaming at himself he needs to stop. He's getting too fat. He looks down and sees nothing but a flabby chest and a huge expanse of blubbery flesh that was his flat stomach. The diners around him are now all talking. About that morbidly obese wolf with no self control. Keep eating he won't fit through the doors. He might pop right there. Such a greedy wolf, they want to see him stretch and balloon until he's too fat to lift his arms. What a fucking mess. How could someone let themselves get to that size? And Derek is trying to will himself to stop. Wants to roar that he isn't - he's not a fat guy! But the other half of his brain starts telling him maybe he is. Think about how much effort it would be to stand up and leave with all this lard? It will take so much effort. Be so exhausting...maybe he should eat more first. More energy. The food tastes so good. He's so hungry, despite his stomach rumbling and indigested and stretched taut and begging for a break.)

[axl-gets-creative]

are we sure vampires will never hurt us?

a poem of my vampirekin experience <3

CW: mentions of blood, murder, death, firearms, alterhumanity, dysphoria (?), confusion, feeling lost and in general just possibly depressing themes

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ive never felt human

i never will feel human

ive always felt like this deep down

ive always had the desire to be a a different being,

even if upon my existance they frown

im a wolf, im a cat, im a leopard, im a... vampire?

i never felt like a vampiric being

but i do know, so how does that work?

why do i feel like i belong in a hearse?

i like garlic, i like the sun,

so why does killing suddenly sound fun?

could be a soul walk in, could i be losing my mind?

the desire to kill

to leave

to drink the blood and flee

to scream

to cry

to straight up crash and die

its almost like a piece of my soul broke off

and sent this creature to fill in the spot

why it broke, i'll never know

did gerard way really run me that cold?

could be a temporary, could be a phase,

but as of now i cant help but gaze

at the teeth, at the blood, at the claws, at the gun

pulling the trigger to hell as i run

i could just be extremely goth

or my sanity just simply flew away like a moth

a moth to a light

a light to the eyes

the eyes of a girl whos yet to figure out her life

but i wont try to escape

but instead i'll imbrace

to hell with the humans who dont like our ways

i'll live in my cave

desolate and grim

i'll drink my blood

call myself by "him"

i'll drive in this hearse

i'll make it fucking hurt

i'll load my gun and drench my shirt

in the blood

in the vains

in the pain

in the curses let free from the cry of a victims name

i keep a gun in the book you gave me.

but its not a glock, or an ar-15,

its the sorrow and woe that shivers through this teen

give me back my teeth

to rip the flesh of your necks apart

give me a spike to stake your heart

give me back what i was born to have

give me back what i was born to have

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thx for reading <3

Edit: I Hate this sm wtf the line to kill me is to the left I'm paying a 1000000 dollars to anyone willing to cook my ass in an air fryer

[green-eyedfirework]

Dick can tell that the alpha is angry from the moment he spots him. To be fair, no father would be calm right now, but angry seems like an insufficient word for Slade's current mood.

When the alpha growls, the entire clearing bows their heads.

The men chasing Dick and Rose are already dead, ripped apart by a furious wolf pack, and Dick is numb, wondering if he's next.

He was supposed to keep Rose safe. He was supposed to teach her and protect her. And he failed.

Rose is slumped unconscious in Dick's arms. She isn't seriously hurt, just bruises and scrapes and magical exhaustion, but Dick can practically feel the murder exuding off of Slade as he stalks closer.

"She's okay," Dick tries to reassure, voice hoarse.  "Just tired."

Slade's gaze snaps to him, and Dick abruptly regrets getting the alpha's attention.

The sound Slade makes is a cross between a snarl and a roar, and it's enough to start the trembling. Slade closes the distance, lips pulled back, teeth gleaming, and Dick stays on his knees, frozen to the spot. The sound of his heartbeat is the loudest thing in the clearing.

Dick's whole face is prickling. "I'm sorry," he forces out, because he failed, and then he shuts his eyes. He can't watch his death.

The bite is sudden and deep and agonizing as sharp teeth sink into the junction of neck and shoulder.

Dick cries out, or thinks he cries out, the pain a sharp counterpoint to the way he's getting dizzy. His arms are losing strength and he makes a muffled sound when he feels Rose slipping, but hands skim across his, picking her up easily.

His eyes are open again, but that doesn't make a difference, not when the world is growing ever more blurry between each gasping breath.

Slade disengages, and this time, Dick screams.

It feels like a thousand fire ants chewing on his collarbone, like someone carved him up with a superheated blade, and if this is how bad it hurts, Dick doesn't want to know how bad it looks. The world tilts around him the moment Slade lets go, and Dick finds himself sprawled in the dirt, sobbing so loud he can't hear anything else.

Something wet and cold touches his face, wandering across his skin. Please, Dick tries to say, please make it quick. If the alpha decides to play with his food, well.

The darkness is approaching swiftly, Dick's own injuries catching up with him, and Dick swears he can feel the rough, sandpaper edge of a tongue before it washes over him.

~#~

Dick wakes up feeling warm, which is pleasing enough to almost ignore the other throbbing aches that demand attention.  His shoulder is pulsating with soft waves of pain and he very carefully turns his head to avoid aggravating the injury.

He remembers—the fight, Rose passing out in his arms, his own magic drained, the wolves appearing, Slade.

The bite.

Dick swallows.  Slade was snappish the entire time Dick was teaching Rose how to use her magic, he doubts that this episode endeared him to the alpha.  The only niggling problem is that Dick feels far too cozy right now.

He cracks open an eye.  Fur.  Dim light.  Silver hair.  He blinks, looking down in surprise at the curled-up wolf pup sprawled across his chest, breaths softly whistling through the air.

He honestly thought he'd never see Rose again.

There's another pup tucked under his left arm, light-colored and drooling on his shirt, and a bigger, dark-furred adolescent wolf with his back to Dick, and on Dick's other side is—

A cold, ice-blue eye meets his gaze.  The alpha doesn't look any less angry, any less murderous in human form.  Dick is stuck to the spot, trapped by more than a sleeping wolf pup and heavy furs, as the alpha leans over him.

"Sleep," Slade says, in a voice that makes it sound remarkably like a threat.

Dick shuts his eyes, and sleep follows quickly.

[stories4thepack]

Revenge is so sweet (part 4)

Wednesday Addams x reader

Warning: wolfing out, blood, violence, assault, description of gore (not too much) and other stuff!

Everything hurts

That’s all you can focus on, how each crack of your bones sends an explosion of pain throughout your body.

Your nails grow, curve, dig into the wooden floor you have fallen onto. You feel taller, stronger as your back arches and tears through your shirt.

When you finally look up, look past the pain blinding you, the boys meet your gaze. A grin grows across your face as your wolf features take over, they scream as you howl, throwing your head and paws into the air as everyone around you flees the building. All except them

And they are all you can see

You large paws hit the floor again, mane flowing along your back almost glowing scarlet with your fury.

Enid screams your name, begs you to stop but Wednesday stands there, almost in shock at the fact that your trigger………..was her

You pounce, forcing one of the boys into the ground, claws tearing at his clothes and digging into his flesh. Blood flowed over your paws, his screams were drowned out by the need for revenge. You grab the boys arm in you jaw, canines biting deep into his flesh. You waits until you heard his bones break in a satisfying snap before you threw his arm back down.

Your head snaps to the other boys as they begin to run to the exit, a growl breaks through your body. You slowly get up from the limp boy, ignoring his quiet whimper as you stalked the other two Normies.

They reach the door, desperately ripping it open and scrabbling over each other to escape. Until one grabs the back of the others hoodie, throwing him to the floor, right at your paws. He screams as you look down, lurching forward to bite off his face

Until you bite into something else, immediately you lurch away, suddenly aware of the scent of your crush. You give the girl a whimper as you look at her face and slowly loom down at her arm, which she had placed above the boy. Your pointy ears lay onto the back of your head which you hang in shame, your tail disappears between your legs.

“Y/n, come along, we do not need to damage anyone else.”

You snarl at her, placing your paw firmly onto the boys chest, claws digging into his shirt, lightly pressed into his skin

“I know what they said, but I can punish them another day. I want you to get away from here before the Sheriff forces himself into this.”

You Bark and glare at the boy, forcing your paw further into the human, making him scream as your claws dug into his ribs, you gave the boy a wolfish grin as you slowly brought your paw downward, making a long, deep wound across his skin. Wednesday stares at you, refusing to react to the boys suffering cries.

“Y/n”

Your name causes your ear to flick, acknowledging the Raven hair in front of you. Yet, you didn’t stop the agonising revenge you were inflicting……UNTIL……

You felt a hand on the side of your head

When your head snapped upwards, your eyes were met the commanding glare of your crush. Wednesday’s dark eyes seemed cold, yet hid the tiny gentleness you had never received from her before. Her hand moved slightly, only slightly, but it was enough to make you tilt your great, wolf head into her palm. Your fur covering her fingers with a warmth Wednesday would never want to cease feeling.

A purr rippled up your throat as Wednesday gave you a gentle, silent tug, making you follow her. You carefully removed your claws from the crying boy beneath you, falling into a careful pace beside her, paws dripping blood across the cafe. You heard Enid follow, sending useless apologies to the two boys as she hurried behind you.

Wednesday guided you out the door, hand trailing up and down the side of your head. Enid would of taken a video of your wagging tail if she wasn’t (slightly) shaken by the event.

People froze, their mouthes agape, eyes filled with fear as you were taken away from the scene, heading towards the woods. They scuffles about, screamed the boys names, called for the police, insult your kind. But you couldn’t care, you were with Wednesday.

“Alright Y/n,”

She spoke at the edge of the woods, her voice completely calm and neutral, even after what she had witnessed. Though, to be fair, she had seen and experiences worse!

“Go, we will see you back at school.”

You whined, tail tucking between your legs. It made Wednesday’s cold body flutter ever so slightly, though nobody would ever know that.

“Y/n”

She said sternly, throwing you one of her iconic icy glares.

“I have to clean up this mess you made, I cannot come with you.”

You growled lowly, you lurched forward at her, grabbing her hand as gently as you could in your jaws. Refusing to let go.

“Y/n-“

“Go Wednesday.”

Enid grinned, finally holding her phone to record The adorable event. Knowing full well Wednesday will punish her later. You tugged gently on the Raven hairs hand, not wanting to pierce her pale skin with your canines.

Wednesday hesitated a moment, glared at Enid, before being guided by you into the woods.

Your tail wagging the entire time