#The Midnight Wolfman x Reader

[venus-haze]

Who's Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf? (Foxy Coltrane x Reader)

Summary: It’s Halloween, 1985, and your Little Red Riding Hood costume catches the attention of the Midnight Wolfman himself.

Note: Female (incredibly unhinged) reader. Foxy calls the reader “Red” because of the Halloween costume, not due to any physical descriptors. I've literally been working on this since February🫠 Anyway, this is for all the old man fuckers out there🖤 Except if you’re under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: Discussions of canon typical violence. Sexually explicit content involving semi-public play, oral sex (m. receiving) and light roleplaying elements.

October 31, 1985

As soon as you walked into the bar up the road from your place, you immediately wanted to walk out. Having no other plans for Halloween night, you figured you could make the best of going solo. Wore a cute little costume to see where the night led you. Somehow you ended up in a bar where no one else was dressed up for the holiday that called for it. At least, not to the extent you were. Sure, it was a mass-produced Little Red Riding Hood costume you bought on your way home from work, but you made it your own with some makeup and cute heels you dug out of your closet.

You trudged over to the bar, soon nursing your drink and your hurt feelings. With your lip pouted in a slight sulk, you looked around, hoping to catch someone’s attention. Just when it seemed like all hope was lost, a man approached. Dark eyes locked on you. Sly grin on his face. Older, handsome in a scruffy way that your friends always teased you for being into.

You craned your neck to look up at him from your barstool. He sure as hell had that going for him too.

“I dig your costume, Little Red.”

You smiled. “Thanks. Seems like I’m the only one here who got the memo that it’s Halloween.”

“Hell, Halloween is everyday for me,” he said.

“You got a name?”

“You can call me the Midnight Wolfman.” He threw his head back and bellowed out a howl.

Your eyes widened. Heart might’ve skipped a beat. 

Shouts and cheers punctuated the sound, a few of the bar patrons following his lead with weak howls of their own. 

He was probably crazy. Or drunk. Likely both. But fuck, why else would you have gone out on Halloween?

“Buy me a drink, Wolfman?” 

“Glad to, Red.” 

He sat down at the stool next to you, long legs splayed out as one of his boots rested between your heels on your footrest. He claimed your space so easily, you nearly forgot you’d only just met him.

Two shared shots of whiskey later, your face was warm as he leaned in to talk. His easy drawl lured you closer, knees touching, close enough that you could see yourself in his steel blue gaze. You nearly suggested finding a booth to squeeze into. 

Your mind raced with visions of him pulling you onto his lap, his big hands all over you, lips attached to your neck while the other bar patrons were none the wiser.

“Most people call me Foxy, though,” he said.

You furrowed your brows, hoping you hadn’t been fantasizing through too much of the conversation. “Foxy?”

“That’s my name. Winslow Foxworth Coltrane.”

“I like it. Sounds like an F. Scott Fitzgerald character or something.”

“Who’s that?”

“He wrote The Great Gatsby.”

“Oh yeah, I saw that one, had Redford in it. Kind of a snoozefest if you ask me. I mean, hard to follow up Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid,” he said. “What kind of movies are you into, Red?”

“I love horror, especially the gory shit,” you said before you could think twice. 

He grinned, giving you a nod of approval. “Right on.”

“My favorite is probably The Texas Chain Saw Massacre. Have you seen that one?”

“Yeah, it was great. Reminds me of my family.”

You laughed. “No kidding.”

His smile wavered, and for the first time all night it felt like you two weren’t on the same wavelength. Had you missed something in your half-drunk stupor? Was there something he mentioned that you fantasized through?

“Um, how about you?” you asked, trying to salvage the connection. “Westerns?”

“I’m into the classics, like those old monster movies.”

“Well, you’re way more handsome than Lon Chaney, Wolfman.”

“That’s ‘cause I’m the real deal, baby.”

“I believe it.”

“Yeah?”

You licked your lips. “With a howl like yours? Makes a girl think you could eat her alive.”

“C’mere,” he growled, pulling you to him. 

His lips were on yours, wild and passionate that would keep you up the rest of the night even if nothing else happened. The way he had his hands on you, though, bringing you closer to him, deepening the kiss so you could taste the whiskey on his tongue, the very same he bought you, made you certain he wanted the night to end exactly the same way you did.

He pawed at your ass, his hands pushing up your short, red, satin skirt until your panties peaked out. You moaned when his fingers brushed the wet spot on the fabric, pushing against your clit. Fuck the notion of a getting busy in a back booth, you were ready to let him take you up against the bar if you weren’t so rudely interrupted.

“Hey, c’mon,” the bartender said, looking equally disturbed and exasperated. “You guys can’t—”

Foxy slammed his palm onto the bar, nearby glasses rattling on impact. “Motherfucker, if you don’t get out of my girl’s face I’ll crack your skull open.”

A smile twitched across your lips.

“Get out before I call the cops. Both of you.”

Foxy stood up. “Think I’m scared of some fuckin’ pigs?” Grabbed a nearby beer bottle and smashed it against the bar. Before you could blink, the jagged edge was pressed against the bartender’s throat. If anyone noticed what was going on, they sure as hell weren’t trying to intervene. “By the time they get here I could gut you like a fish.” 

A delirious thrill rolled down your spine at the gleam in Foxy’s eyes. 

“Look man, you—you don’t even have to pay for the drinks. Just go, alright?”

Deathly silence fell over the altercation, the bartender glancing between Foxy’s wild face and the broken bottle.

Do it, a dark, repressed part of you, ravenous for blood, hissed.

Foxy laughed, shaking his head. “You’re a fuckin’ pussy, man.” He threw his arm around you, letting the broken bottle shatter on the floor as he led you out.

“Don’t come back!”

“I wouldn’t shit here if I ate a gas station hot dog, asshole,” he shouted over his shoulder.

You pulled your polyester cloak a little tighter when you walked outside. Damn, you and Foxy probably looked like one hell of a pair to the people just getting to the bar.

The two of you stood in the middle of the parking lot while he lit a cigarette. “I don’t eat gas station hot dogs if I can help it. Give me indigestion. My ol’ man—well, adopted ol’ man—he used to make a mean fried chicken at his gas station,” he said, taking a drag. “Get a hankering for the stuff sometimes, and KFC sure as hell doesn’t cut it. Guess Colonel Sanders’ get-up is better than dressing like a clown, though.”

You interjected his rambling, “You would’ve done it, wouldn’t you? The bartender—”

“Wouldn’t have been the first time.” He stared you down, a predatory gleam in his eyes. He took a long drag, smoke rolling from his lips and circling above his head as he asked, “You afraid of the big bad Wolfman, Red?”

“Terrified.”

“You don’t know the half of it.”

“Then show me.”

“Mine or yours?”

“Mine. Yours. I don’t know—I need you, Foxy.” Your voice neared a whine. 

“Fuck,” he groaned. “Say that again.”

“I need you.” You tugged on his shirt. “Foxy, c’mon.”

“Yours. I can’t drive at night for shit.”

You grabbed him by the arm, practically pulling him over to your car. 

Jamming the key into the lock, you couldn’t open the driver’s side door fast enough, quickly unlocking the passenger door for him. Your hands would’ve been shaking if you weren’t gripping the steering wheel within an inch of your life as you peeled out of the parking lot the moment he finished adjusting the seat, moving it as far back as it could go to accommodate his long legs. 

“Mind if I turn on the radio?” Foxy asked.

“Sure. I don’t live far, though. Should only be ten minutes.”

He fiddled with the stations until a late night news broadcast mentioned the name Otis Driftwood. He paused before sitting back.

“‘Free the Three’ demonstrations in support of the notorious Devil’s Rejects death cult continue well into the night.”

The reporter detailed the Fireflys’ crimes, as if anyone could have missed them. Hundreds of gruesome murders to their names. You, just like everyone else in America, had been glued to the story when it broke. All work practically came to a halt when their trials were going on, obvious guilty verdicts amidst a media circus.

“What do you think of ‘em?” Foxy asked, breaking the silence.

“The Fireflys?”

“Yeah.”

You glanced at him, tearing your eyes off the road for a moment to gauge how he’d react to your answer. “I guess what they did is fucked up, but the police and military have done way worse. Like, Otis Driftwood never dropped nukes on entire cities,” you said. “Why?”

“That’s my family.”

“Really?”

“Well, Otis is my half-brother. The rest of ‘em are all adopted.”

You looked at him again. Then the road. Then him in disbelief. “Then you—“

“Told you I was the real deal, sweetheart.”

“Why didn’t you get caught?”

“I was already in the can. Crazy how that shit happens, huh?”

You hit the gas, accelerating from 50 to 85 in a flash. No cops. Didn’t matter. Foxy could handle them if there were. You pressed your thighs together. Almost considered pulling over and just fucking in the backseat. But where was the fun in that? The excitement? The vulnerability of letting a killer into your home, where you’re supposed to be safe, and hoping to god he wouldn’t see your kitchen knives and get some bright ideas? You moaned. Oh god. You moaned.

“Red?”

“I know, Foxy. I’m going as fast as I can.” Your voice was whiny, high-pitched, desperate. “Piece of shit car—”

He grinned, shaking his head. “You’re nuts.”

“Is that a turn off?”

“Hell no.”

——

You nearly dropped your keys by the time you unlocked the door to your apartment, Foxy feeling you up from behind while you fumbled with them, obviously amused by your racing pulse and trembling hands.

“Cool place,” he said when he walked inside. “You got any roommates or—”

You pushed him against the front door, your mouth on his, desperate, hungry for anything he’d give you. Slipping your hand between your bodies, you cupped the bulge in his jeans. He groaned into your mouth, and you squeezed gently, feeling his cock strain against the rough denim.

“Don’t tease,” he growled.

“It’s only teasing if you don’t follow through.” You kneeled in front of him, moving to untie your cloak while he unbuckled his belt, unzipping his jeans.

“Wait,” he said, “leave the costume on.”

“Whatever you want, Wolfman.”

He pulled his cock from his boxers, big enough to be intimidating at first glance. But he was a killer, part of the Firefly clan, for god's sake, you wouldn't falter, instead mustering up the courage you had to even invite him home in the first place.

“My, what a big cock you have,” you teased, taking it in your hand, spreading the precum at his tip with your thumb while slowly pumping his length.

“All the better to fuck that pretty mouth with, Red.”

You licked your lips, holding eye contact with him as you took him in your mouth. Something primal about him, inherently dangerous. He’d killed people before, probably done far worse. Could change his mind at any time and cause you a world of hell. You pressed your thighs together, trying to ignore the ache in your core for hopes he’d take care of it if you did a good enough job. With the way he dug his fingers into your scalp, loud curses and praises falling from his mouth, you weren’t doing half bad.

“Midnight Wolfman’s got you right where he wants you, huh, Red? Turned you into his little bitch?” he taunted. “C’mon, gimme a howl.”

You whined around his cock, choking a bit when he thrust in your mouth. You liked this version of the story a hell of a lot better. No one to save you. Just you, in your Little Red Riding Hood costume, and the wolf, his crooked teeth bared as he hissed through them, grinning down at you. And you brought him there. Invited him into your home knowing he could tear you apart if he wanted to—maybe you wanted him to.

“You’re a good slut, ain’t you?” He groaned. His cock twitched in your mouth, you could feel the salty taste of him on your tongue as he came with a howl. “Take it all, Red—fuck, take it.” As if you had much of a choice but to swallow, but his praise went to your head, to your pussy. “Fuck, you’re like a dream come true.”

Pulling back, sitting on your heels, you looked up at him with a newfound predatory gleam in your eye as he caught his breath.

“By the way,” you said, acutely aware of the wet ache between your thighs, “I live alone, if you wanna return the favor.”

[slxsherwriter]

Pack Expansion

Fandom: House of 1000 Corpses, 3 from Hell, Firefly trilogy

Parings: Otis Driftwood x Reader

Word Count: 3, 724

Warnings: Otis Driftwood is his own warning?, cannibalism, kidnapping, death, blood & gore

Series: Monsters in Plain Sight

Author's note: This sort of started off as a joke fic that took a turn into an entirely different direction. Come on now, The Midnight Wolfman? Foxy has been hiding something from the family. Hope everyone enjoys. As always, not beta read so mistakes are mine.

You had long since given up the fight over whether or not the Firefly house was your home. It had been declared for you, long before you had come to the realization. The last to pick up on in fact. Sure, you had accepted the family as your pack. It was hard not to with the increased amount of time you spent around them and at the house. Otis in particular. But to call it a home? Something you hadn't exactly had in years.

When Otis had officially laid claim on you, there was no chance to deny it. Your wolf recognized its alpha and accepted the claim. No fight, no hesitation. Well, maybe a little fight. Neither of you would have enjoyed it if you had just rolled over immediately.

So, you had given up the fields that you had called your own for the better part of two years and moved into the house. Chaos tended to reign more often than not. But there was rarely a shortage of prey or something to keep you entertained. Not simply from Otis either. The entire family fell into that category. On occasion though, things shifted from the enjoyable chaos that dominated life into something else.

The lazy, relaxed atmosphere of the home permeated through everything it seemed. All but impossible to ignore. Lounged on the couch, you were taking up all the space, stretched and relaxed. The worn in material was soft and comfortable, molded to your body perfectly. Baby was settled in the chair, legs thrown over the arm of it, playing with her hair. For once, she was quiet. The normally talkative woman had found an ease just sharing space with you and with the atmosphere, it wasn't necessary to talk. It was a challenge not to let the content rumble come from you. After being alone for so long, yes it was an adjustment but the pack abjm that you ultimately were was thrilled with the fact that you had found a proper place.

Movement from upstairs indicated that Otis was finally breaking away from whatever project that he was working on and had been toiling away with for hours on end. When he got inspired, there was nothing that could stop him. A habit that you were happy to let him indulge in since most of the time, it gave you the opportunity to slip from the house for a run, a patrol, or a hunt. Whatever you fancied at the time.

“Ya wanna go out tonight?” Baby's voice broke you out of your indulgent haze, causing you to glance from the TV to her. She hadn't shifted her gaze, still playing with her hair absently, chewing away at a piece of gum. “Just me and you. Ya know, a real girls night. We'll hit up the bar, get shitfaced, see if we can find any fun for the night. Come on, Bunny. We've been cooped up for too long.” Finally, her eyes unglued themselves from the TV. Admittedly, the idea was a bit enticing. Even if you couldn't get shitfaced with her. It brought about the possibility of getting a proper snack.

“Yeah, sure, why not?” The sound that came from her couldn't be classified as anything other than a squeal of excitement. It was amusing, like a pup discovering their tail for the first time. She was more aware and smarter than most gave her credit for but Baby might have been the most unhinged of the pack. She had been raised in this, brought up to know no other thing. At least from your understanding. So, it made sense. “Would be good to get a stretch and see if we can't find something to sink my teeth into.” Playfully, you snapped your jaw, human teeth clashing together, which just made her laugh harder.

Steps thudding down the stairs brought the both of you out of the moment. Too light to be Tiny or Rufus. Meaning there was only one culprit.

“The fuck are you two going on about?” Otis appeared around the corner, eyeing the both of you suspiciously. Though, with the trouble that Baby could cause, he could hardly be blamed. Before you could answer, Baby cut you off.

“Bunny and I are gonna go out tonight!” Bouncing now in her seat, her entire body was practically vibrating in excitement.

“Oh, is that so?” Red rimmed blue eyes turned to you, brow raised. As if challenging the statement that his sister had made. A shrug of your shoulders was the response, though you accompanied it with a smile.

“Yeah. What's the harm in having a little bit of fun? Besides, it's not like the freezers haven't been a little lacking lately anyway.” That might have been the wrong thing to say because the shift in his demeanor and expression was abrupt and vicious. You had to backtrack a little bit, since the words had been taken as an insult to his ability to provide. “It's the time of year, lack of people moving through, I know. Don't see nearly as many when I'm out on a run. Ain't a lack of trying. But maybe, we can pull a few guys that won't be missed, at least right away.” Baby always grabbed attention wherever she went. Which meant that it shouldn't be difficult to snag the attention of some asshole with a wandering eye.

Otis seemed to think it over for a few moments before letting out a small grunt. An agreement to the statement.

“Bring me back something to play with then.” That was about as much acceptance as you would get. Nothing else was said as the man wandered off to the kitchen, leaving a silence in his wake. The sound of the TV hadn't reached your consciousness, eyes lingering on the spot where he had disappeared. That was until a pillow smacked you right upside the head. The attack was accompanied with giggles.

“Hey! You said we were going out. No thoughts of following after him for a fuck.” Yeah, well, that couldn't exactly be denied. If that sort of game was started, the two of you wouldn't end up leaving wherever you were at for a few hours. Which, in turn, would end up ruining Baby's night.

“We are still going out, don't get your panties in a twist.” The crouch protested movement, creaking and shifting with your movement. Legs swung over the edge, you sat up and stretched out. “I'll go find RJ, see if we can take the truck.”

“You're the best!” You had barely abandoned the couch before the blonde was taking the now empty spot. She passed along a wink before turning her attention back to whatever horror movie was playing on the television.

***********************

The bar had been utterly packed, bodies from wall to wall. You hadn't thought that there were even this many people in Ruggsville. Music had pumped through the speakers, leaving it impossible to talk to anyone without shouting. The stench of sweat and arousal permeated the air, laying heavy enough that surely even humans could pick up on the scents.

It was fertile hunting grounds. Quite literally when it came to the two of you. Baby had enjoyed the attention, moving from person to person, trying to find the right one to bring back home. If she wasn’t about to go off to have a little fun before dragging someone off into the night.

You had a few drinks, barely feeling a buzz, and had been a little more particular about who was grabbing your attention. A few choices had appeared good. Otis's words echoed in the back of your head. He wanted a plaything, though he didn't specify for how long he wanted that plaything to last. Something that did go into consideration. If you focused solely on that, you would likely miss your chance for your own plaything. Snickering softly with no one to ask why, you shook your head. Would your alpha get jealous? Seemed like he might. Even if it couldn't go both ways.

Jealousy was a pointless endeavor. None of those bodies meant shit to Otis, even if the wolf occasionally liked to grumble about it. That was settled though when you were allowed to chase one or two of them down after they accidentally escaped from the house. Quote on quote.

Eyes finally landed on a couple that was more hidden in the corner of the room. Ah, now there was a promising prospect. The first anyone had piqued your interest the entire night. From there, it had been easy to purchase some drinks, make yourself available for approach, and flirt when the woman came wandering over first. You had them hook, line, and sinker when he wandered over and settled down. The heavy arm first rested against the back of the booth, as if there was any question about where it would end up. Her hand found it's place on your thigh first before his arm slid down.

Baby found your eyes from across the room and you nodded. It would be best for you to get both the bodies tied up and tossed in the back of the truck under a trap so that Baby could bring her guy back without any sort of issue. Less questions from both parties, less chance of someone running off, easier hauling back to the house. And, the benefit was having Baby occupied with the man that she had found.

A little more damage that you would have liked happened to occur with your chosen plaything. The shift had been quick and she had knocked out without struggle as her head met the side of the truck with a satisfying thud. Claws had torn into flesh, leaving jagged and gaping wounds that might just end his life before returning to the house. All caused when he had decided to make a run for it, shouting his head off. That would draw unwanted attention and was simply unacceptable. A slash to his back had him falling before one single curved claw dug into the flesh of his cheek, yanking to tear the flesh. Cries of pain rang out into the night air but no one was around to hear it. Thankfully. Everyone was inside and too focused on enjoying their night. That music that had hurt your ears so much before was now a blessing.

RJ always had some extra rope in the back and dirty rags were a dime a dozen. Stuffing one into his mouth took care of the noise problem. Tying them both up from there took a little bit of time, you weren't used to having to restrain. The hunt was always better when they were able to run and scramble. But, it was managed and the tarp went over them, making it look like there wasn't anything but tools and other necessary things for repair in the back.

Baby had significantly better luck, though she was dealing with one where you had two. The two were intertwined as you drove back to the house, leaving you to focus solely on the roads and making sure that the two bodies remained in the bed of the truck.

She took her prey inside the house, leaving you with yours outside. Shaking your head, you pulled the tarp back and surveyed the mess that had been left behind. It seemed that the woman was just waking while the man was alive, but more in that way of clinging to life out of desperation more than anything. He wouldn't be a good chase. But there was enough there to have a few extras thrown in the freezer with an extra snack or two for you in your wolf form. Otis had just opened the door when your nose twitched. The smell carried on the wind in your direction, giving you enough time to anticipate what was coming.

Back ramrod straight, the quarry in the truck was forgotten about.

“Bunny, are you fucking listening?” You hadn't been. A low growl worked, growing in volume by the second. Nothing moved in the tree line, the cattle remained unperturbed, and the dogs were relaxed along the porch and towards the gate. “Bunny!”

“There's another wolf.”

“Another wolf? The fuck do you mean another wolf?” The potential threat had at least forced him to pay closer attention to your reactions rather than what he had been focused on, moving to grab the gun from his pocket. Not that it would do much besides piss a wolf off but it would give him a chance to get inside the house. Protective instincts rose, overwhelming every sense of self preservation that had been honed over the years.

“There's another wolf on the property. And getting closer. Get inside….” Your eyes snapped in the southern direction, near the gate before a car appeared. A car? Truck to be exact and it looked beat to hell. The person inside made a howl and instead of Otis listening to you, he began laughing. However, the sound died off and the car moved through the gate faster when you shifted and lowered closer to the ground, ready to attack. Otis may have thought that this was all a joke but that scent never lied. Whoever was in that car was a werewolf. Underlying it though was something familiar. Not that your mind allowed htat to process when all that was screaming was protect, attack, defend.

The car came to a stop, the headlights not dying down, focused directly on your prowling form. Otis was moving towards the car, gun no longer drawn. The growl only grew in volume and ferocity, your body inching forward to try and stay ahead of him but there was nothing that was deterring him.

“Holy fucking shit….”

“The fuck you doing here?”

“Oh, I think that the question should be about that.” The man pointed in your general direction, causing you to snap your maw, drool flying. The growl had never stopped, the sound rivaling the rumble of the dying engine in the car. Ears pinned back, the scent was so much stronger now that he was standing in front of you. There was no denying that this man was a werewolf. Had Otis not picked up on the fact that the man was not at all disturbed or worried about the fact that there was a giant beast snarling and gnashing not ten feet from him?

“Bunny, calm the fuck down already. This here is Foxy, he's my brother.” Brother? Why the hell hadn't he been at the house? The entire family, minus Spaulding, was supposed to be here. Huffing, you were still unsure but took a step back and shifted once more.

“Brother or not, he’s a wolf.” Otis was smiling, at more ease than you had seen him in awhile. He was slapping Foxy on the shoulder, still chuckling. Foxy had gone from smiling to watching you, posture a little more tense than before. There was a sharpness to his teeth and a flash of color to his eyes that wasn't natural for a human. Proof that your instinct and that your nose had been correct. Otis could feel the tension, he had to with the placement of his hand against Foxy. His head cocked to the side ever so slightly, eyes jumping between you both.

“I gotta fucking admit. Her nose ain't been wrong before…” Foxy grunted before his shoulders sagged.

“Ah, shit. This ain't how I wanted to tell you.”

“She's right? Fuck me!” Foxy rolled his eyes and shoved Otis off of him. “How long you been hiding this shit? That Midnight Wolfman shit a fucking inside joke?”

“Oh, fuck off. I ain't been hiding shit. Shit happened about four months ago. Didn't know fuck all about what was happening.” A newly turned wolf. Now, that would explain why he hadn't reacted as strongly to your presence as you did to his own. That, or he had been around other wolves and was able to contain it. The thought that he could bring a pack down on the family didn't settle well, flaring that desire to protect all over again. “Still don't really understand shit. Definitely can't do that,” he offered and motioned towards you. Shift on command? That had to be what he was referring to when he spoke.

“You can't control it?” Otis stepped back for a moment, looking at the man, now almost as if he was an actual threat.

“It takes a lot of fucking time,” you offered before Foxy could speak. If he really was a new wolf with no sort of mentorship, the last four months would have been hell. Likely not nourished correctly, injuries that wouldn't heal properly, and suffering through a lot of pain without embracing and understanding the shifts. The same thing young, pureblooded wolves went through. Like it or not, if the man was really family, then that meant he was part of your pack. By extension, you were responsible now for teaching. “Time and work. There's a reason young wolves generally don't master it until their teenage years.” Another huff passed your lips into the night air as your gaze jumped between Otis and Foxy.

Before you could offer any help or guidance, the moans from the bed of the truck broke the silence. Right. There were play things. A thought struck you. An injured animal always worked best when it came to teaching one how to hunt. Less likely to fight back, cause harm, and easier to catch. Build up confidence. Maybe it hadn't been such a bad thing that the man had put up that struggle.

“Ya got something you wanna share?”

“You asked for a plaything.” Pulling the tarp off revealed the two bodies. “She's all yours. Shouldn't be anything more than maybe a lingering concussion. He decided he didn't want to get into the truck so…” You shrugged with the explanation. Otis peered over the edge and took in the prey.

“Not bad, Bunny.” The praise had your spirit lifting a bit. “What do you plan on doing with him? Doesn't look like he is gonna give you a run.”

“No, but….” You glanced towards Foxy and Otis followed your look.

“What a great God damn idea.” Foxy looked confused for a moment, brow raising as you both were assessing the man.

“What?”

“We are going on a hunt.”

*****************

By the time you returned to the house, both you and the newly turned wolf were covered in blood. A rib was settled between your teeth as he was working on a section of the ulna bone. Dragging behind the both of you was the remaining carcass that could be tossed into the freezer. Not as much as you had planned but it was better than nothing at all.

Foxy was most certainly related to the Fireflys. That was no longer doubted. He reminded you of Otis in several ways but didn't have quite the domineering sense behind him. Dangerous and deadly? Yes. Without a doubt. But his personality was a little more calm, his mind a little less focused on the big world. Frighteningly easy to talk to and within an hour of being out in the dark, he was cracking jokes and actually getting a laugh out of you.

It would take a lot more time and effort for him to learn the shift on command but he didn't fight his nature like some who were turned. That alone had him ahead of the game. From your understanding, he planned on laying low at the ranch for some time, given the amount of land and space that was here.

“Not too bad a night for a newbie.” He chuckled, looking down at the bone that was nearly out of marrow from the sounds of it.

“Have to say, you make the shit look easier than it is. But you make it make sense.”

“You'll get there. Like I said, takes time. Probably would have taken you years on your own. I say, we go out nightly, especially over the time when it's closer to the moon, and you'll get there in a few months.” A hummed response was what you got as the both of you trudged up the stairs. Slinging the remains over your shoulder, you motioned for him to head inside. “I'm gonna take care of this before settling in. You got questions, just come find me. Don't need shit getting out of hand while you're in the house.” Instead of questioning it, he nodded and headed inside, still gnawing away on the bone. Like a pup. You could have swore that if he still had his tail, it would be swaying.

Chuckling, you headed down to the basement, moving past Tiny's room with a wave to the giant, before tossing the meat onto the table.

The instinct to protect had come up without thought. Still, the hair on the back of your neck was half on end with the adrenaline that remained coursing through your veins. Threats as a wolf were never taken lightly and over the years, threats were dealt with on your own so it just heightened everything.

“Have to say, you make a pretty damn good guard dog.” The voice rang out, unexpected enough that it actually made you jump. Shit. The chuckle meant that Otis hadn't missed it either. “Aww, did I sneak up on the big bad wolf?” Rolling your eyes since your back was turned to the man, you grunted in response while using a claw to slice up the remaining meat.

His hands found your hips, the length of his frame suddenly pressed against yours. Any growl died in your throat, the sound choked out by the shifting gears within your consciousness. Seemed he wasn't too upset about you stepping across some boundaries. The hand sliding across your abdomen and up to your chest would have been far more demanding and harsh, its placement wholly different. Teeth sunk into sensitive flesh and a different sort of keeling growl took place of any other sound. Maybe the night wasn't entirely a waste after all. And just maybe having another wolf around wasn't such a bad thing. As long as Otis didn't go getting any ideas...

[shadowhuntressoqwq]

Foxy Coltrane x fem!reader

Warnings: fem!reader, smut, language,afab

Mexico, were you love to take Vacation. The people are somewhat nice and the Partys are Hardcore.

You sit at the bar talking with Carlos who you almost know better than yoursefl. He's weird but cool and you both like to talk alot. He often gives you drinks on the house, you are more of a little sister to him, often catching him protecting you from the perverts.

You laugh at one of his aweful jokes and sip on your drink. "Ya' gotta watch out y/n, t'night are some new people 'ere, never saw 'em before" he warns you. The new people are hard to over look. You know them from the TV warnings but you couldn't care less, it's your danm Vacation and you're not a cop.

You wouldn't even talk to them as a hand was on your shoulder, the man ordering a shot and grining down to you "my my, what a nice pice of ass" Carlos looks at the man with and shakes his head "stop that man". You sigh and look up to see what kind of no-good was standing behind you only to see the one and only 'Midnight Wolfman'. You tense up, you have heard about him he's dangerous but Kind of...cute?

Before Carlos could say anything else he get's called by a woman "Don't ya' try anythin'" He warns the man and walks away. "The names Foxy" He introduces himself and slowly sits down next to you. He's tall, selfaware and like a predator, stalking it's prey which is you. "I don't want trouble" You only reply and look away, trying to calm down.

His hand reaches out and he gently pulls your chin towards him "No trouble eh? I just wanna play baby" he chuckles and runs his thump over your bottom lip, with his other hand her takes a small sip from his shot before putting the small shotglass on your lips. Unsure you open your mouth letting the cold and strong substance run down your throat "now that's a good girl" he whsipers. Your cheeks turn red, it's a weak spot for you. He stand up holding out his hand "come baby I show ya' a good time" He winks, danm him, danm his charm but you can't resist. He looks good and you are in the middle of your ovulation, which means you are more than horny. Your body wants to jump him, riding out your desire and using him like a toy. You just nod and follow him, taking his hand.

You two walk for a minute or two to his room. You stand in his room, looking at the bed why are you so stupid? You don't even know this man, let alone he's a wanted killer. "Doll, tell me your name" he whsipers behind you, his hands on your hips and his lips on your neck. He kisses your neck until he finds your sweetspot making you weak in your knees. What was the question again? You asked yourself as he abused the spot with his lips and tounge "Darlin'?" he asks again, chuckling a little "ya' name" Oh right your...your name "Y/N" you stutter and lean your head back on his shoulder, this feels too good. "My you're shakin' like a leave" he let's out a little laugh before he undresses you, slowly and teasingly "Goddanm ya' really a pice of cake" he comments and lets his hands run up and down your body. You shiver, your arousel is more than evident, soaking wet and dripping down your leg.

You take a deep breath as his hand ghosts down your legs "Whoa there sweety, did Foxy make ya' wet?" he suddently presses his body even more against yours "or was y/n wet before?" He teases you, walking around you and sitting down on his bed, looking at your pelvis licking his lips "let me taste ya' sweetheart" taste you? With his tounge? These thoughts make you feel a tingel down there and with slow steps you walk forwars stopping infront of him.

He takes your leg and pulls it slightly up, exposing your pussy to him. "I can smell you" he whsipers, eyes glued to your wet core and his mouth watering. But he wants to take his time, so he kisses your leg up, gently licking your soft skin. He stops between your legs, your leg over his shoulder, your torso leaned back and supported by your arms on the tall shelf behind you. To his luck the bed is near that shelf so he doesn't need to lean more forward. "You smell tempting" He whispers and close his eyes just like you as his tounge starts to lick you. He eats you out for what seems like hours befor pulling back "Hmmm you taste like sugar, come here" he let's your leg down and with trembling legs you sit on his lap but not for long. He turns you on your stomach and takes off his pants "I'm gonna make you scream" he whsipers and leans down, entering you.

"Holy shit ya' tight" he chuckles at your whines. He starts thursting into you, your moans filling the room as he takes what he desires. Your pussy drools onto the bed, you're sure you are soaking the sheets. Foxy just laughes at that but not stops "fuck you feel like heaven" his eyes roll back as you cum loudly on him your pussy clenching on him "fuck...foxy I.." he just sighs in arousel "shhh, just enjoy the ride" he chuckles and thrusts even more into you clearly enjoying this as much as you do.

Foxy feels himself cuming, shooting his load inside you befor pulling out "holy shit y/n" he lays down next to you as you roll onto your back. You never thought you end up in a mans bed. "I..I will leave then" you sigh knowing this was just an one time thing "hell? Where do ya' think ya' going women?" he asks, pulling you back onto him "first off all, I ain't done with ya' ass and second who says ya' every leavin' me doll?" he asks.

[slashingdisneypasta]

Foxy Coltrane x Reader || Oneshot

Plot: Inspired by the song ‘Somebody I Fucked Once’ (By Zolita). Basically you and Foxy fucked once. He’s really fond of you, you’re kinda shaky about him, and oh his siblings are there too. This is just me giving Foxy a try at writing for.

Warnings: This turned out a lot cuddlier than I intended, but there is much swearing- and Otis threatens to make you into a Futon once.

You thought it was odd when there was a knock at your door, at… 1 in the morning. But you got your shotgun and snuck up the door, anyway; Peering out the peep hole carefully to see who it could possibly be this early in the morning… before rolling our eyes deeply upwards and stepping back, setting your shotgun in the umbrella stand - still very much within reach, - and opening the door with a frown.

“Well, hell-o there, Y/N. Sorry… did we wake you??” What an asshole, you think as your Worst Mistake Ever, Winslow Foxworth Coltrane greets you from the porch- his own shotgun lean carelessly on his shoulder. Behind him is two others, a scrawny-santa-looking man you know to be Otis B Driftwood - though, he used to be even smaller. Prison must have fed him well over the years, - and a beautiful woman called Baby Firefly running her hands through the multicoloured metal tubes you have hanging off the roof- the melodic sound they make ringing across the dark, baron street. Her hair looks even better then the one other time you met these two, as well, and you chalk that up to prison shampoo and probably vegetable intake, too.

Because sighing would mean weakness, and weakness is not a thing to show in front of this family, you instead offer this man nothing but a hard glare. “What are you doing here, Fox?”

“Mmm… “He moans instead of answering you properly, sniffing the air before a broad grin slowly slips across his face. “You cookin’?”

“Roast.” You respond, huffing. Look, you had a midnight craving and a chicken in the fridge, and you’re an goddamn adult who knows how to cook- so what in the hell was stopping you from preparing a roast in the middle of the night?? Nothing.

You kinda wish you had just gone back to bed now, though. Then there would have been at least 50 percent chance that you didn’t hear him when he knocked on your door this night, and at least a 12 percent chance that he would have just left and taken his crazy siblings with him.

But you didn’t. You got out the chicken and the herbs and preheated the oven and now the door is wide open and he knows you’re here and there’s no going back.

“Glad to hear we didn’t wake ya.” Like his grins, his drawl is slow and deliberate, and you blame that on the Huge Mistake you made, too. Stupid old man being unnecessarily sexy. Fuck him.

Except- no- that’s how all this bullshit started; The Ginormous Mistake, in fact.

Fox turns his head to address Otis, who is staring directly into your soul, and Baby who is humming and making you equally as uncomfortable. “Guys she is a fantastic cook… Looks like we came at just the right time.”

What- “No, you didn’t. Its all for me.”

“You’re gonna eat a whole fucken roast?” Otis speaks up, trigger finger itching in the pocket of his coveralls. You can tell because he lifts the handle as far against the jeans material as he can and then taps it back against his thigh a couple of times. Rolling your eyes, you cross your arms and set him very a stern look. You won’t be intimidated by a fucken necrophiliac. Ridiculous.

“Yes.”

“Mmmm!” Baby distracts you from Otis quickly, as she takes a deep breath in through her nose and sighs. “That does smell good! Agh… tummy so growly.” She hugs her tummy and pouts, and you roll your eyes again.

“There’s a 7-11 down the road you can knock-off,” You inform her, a deadpanned tone in your voice.

“Oh, come on!!”

“Now if you’ll excuse me- “You try your luck and start closing the door, but unfortunately the late hour has not affected Fox’s agility and a foot wedges itself in the way before you can click and lock it shut. Damn.

He steps in closer to you, the cap on his head damn near whacking you in the forehead. “Now, now Y/N… we’ve got history.” Yes, you do. You acknowledge that. But since that history is exactly what you’re trying to avoid repeating, bringing that up is certainly not going to help his case. Does he care? No- “Why dontcha let us in?”

“Because I don’t like the idea of 3 fugitives from the law, hangin’ out in my kitchen!” You insist, putting your foot down and attempting to stare him down too- to no avail, though, as he smirks in your face.  

Fox is about to say something else to you, when a hand comes out of nowhere and actually shoves him out of the way so Otis can get in your face. Well, at least he’s brushed his teeth with something other than bourbon in the last week, you think as the sent of stale toothpaste wafts unpleasantly up your nose. Baby giggles behind him, though you can’t see her. “Hey!- “

“Shut up.” Otis doesn’t even spare his irritated brother a glance, attention on you. You don’t stand down even an inch, though. “Look bitch, let us in now, or I’ll make you into a fucken futon.”

Now, you sigh Because the idea is deeply unpleasant and ruins your mood even worse than it already was- but also drag out the shotgun you has in the umbrella stand and abruptly hold it up to the man’s throat before he can even take the gun he has, out of his pocket. Then flash a forced smile and he huffs. “Sorry, what was that, Otis??”

“Fuck… “

“Back up, asshole.”

He does as told, miraculously - something to do, probably, with the likelihood of having his skull shot to pieces if he indeed stayed where he was, - and crosses his arms beside his still-putting sister. You suddenly get a really good mental image of what they must have been like as children, and almost smile. “Yeah, yeah… fucken bitch… “

“Come on Y/N… we just need a place to stay for a few hours. A place to sleep other then the van… and maybe a plate or two of your cookin’,” Fox gives a roguish grin, almost charming, as if lightening the air as he takes his place in front of you again. “Promise I’ll be on my best behaviour… and I’ll look out for these two assholes, too.”

Despite your better judgement, his attempt at being polite are wearing you down. Still, stink-face on, you adjust your grip on your shot gun and raise a brow, expectantly. “What does you best behaviour look like?”

Grin broadening once again, because the smug bastard knows he’s winning finally and you’re breaking, he straightens and up and squares his shoulders. “Why don’t you let us in and see, huh?”

Taking in a deep breath, you sigh it out and pull your shot gun away from him. “Don’t go anywhere near my room, any of you.”

“Scouts honour.”

“If you were ever actually a scout I’ll give you a thousand bucks.”

~

After dinner, or breakfast, or whatever the hell that meal was - at which these 3 literally cleaned you out. Not just the roast was eaten, but all the shit in your cupboards, too. Baby’s currently dragging a carrot through a rapidly emptying jar of peanut butter, -, you retire to the living room away from them and unpause the movie you were watching. As you’re getting comfortable, or as comfortable as you will allow yourself to be with 3 homicidal maniacs in your kitchen, Fox strolls in and plops down next to you.

You wedge a pillow between the two of you.

“Hey, what’re you watchin’? Looks good.”

“Just some black-and-white.” Crossing your arms over your chest, you turn your head to look at him. “You done cleaning me out, then??”

“Hey, I wanted to leave you the granola but Otis’ a bit stung from how you did him earlier with the shotgun.” He chuckles, the memory funny to him as he shakes his head at it.

“So, he’s in there eating my granola?”

“Dry.”

At that, you finally give in. You smile, snorting and turning back to the TV. The thought of that groan man choking down a box of dry, 5 month old granola in there is honestly hilarious.

“So she does have the ability to fucken smile.” Fox immediately comments, making you want to clam up all over again. But you don’t, you just force yourself to shake you head at it and point at the TV.

“Watch the movie.”

“… Yes Ma’am… “

~

With a groan, you push off the couch and roll your shoulders back once the movie is over, before grabbing your pillow off the couch and turning pointing sternly over it at Foxy. “Welp, I’m going to bed. Don’t break anything.”

The other two are still in the kitchen, but you can hear Otis snoring from here so you know that at least he’s asleep- if Baby’s still awake then that’s okay. As long as she doesn’t kill anyone in here, you think the house will survive. Fox was dozing beside you while the movie played but was awake enough to commentate on it every now and then in an even slower, sleep-crowded voice, but now has his eyes open, watching you. “No kiss goodnight then baby?”

“Not in your dreams, Winslow.” You laugh, rolling your eyes at him as you step over his long-ass legs to get by. As you’re turning to get around the couch and towards the hall that leads to your bedroom again, though, he grabs your arm and with a sudden tug- you’re back on the couch stuck in the crevice between the arm, and him. “Fox!”

“Shh, people are fucken sleeping. Otis is sleeping, actually. And trust me when I tell ya you do not wanna wake him up. He’s a real dick in the morning.”

“Just the morning??” You ask, eyes wide and blank, making him cough out a laugh at you.

Meanwhile you try to get up and let this be a joke, but strong fingers curls around your waist and dig into your skin unwilling to let you escape. Groaning, you turn to him with a stern glare, reading let me the fuck go even as your faces are close enough to make out; A fact that does not escape your notice.

“Come on… haven’t I been well-behaved?”

“Sure, but you don’t get rewarded with sex just because you’ve been good- you get to stay here. That was the deal. Now let me go back to be- “

“Y/N… “Oh, fuck, your name in his voice and that slow, fucking drawl… So not fair.

“I was dreaming about Tom Cruise in that new Top Gun movie.” You blurt out bluntly in Fox’s face, ignoring the perturbed look, there. “I’d really like to get back to tha- “Suddenly Fox leans down, undeterred by your arguments as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. You jaw drops. “Excuse me!- “

“Aghhh… “He sighs there, breathing in the smell of your body wash and shampoo. “I fucken missed this.”

“Winslow Foxworth Coltrane!- “ A big hand weaves up into your hair, rough fingertips massaging gently into the back of your scalp.

“Shhh, remember the long-haired fucker in the other room.”

Defiant as ever, you tense up on purpose and state: “I’ll call for him. This is assault.” Assault that admittedly feels really nice. Damn it.

Fox’s other arm goes around your waist and he just gathers you up against him, hugging you. Your eyes widen as your resolve slips away from you. “Missed you.”

“Ah- “Oh no. What was that? What did he say? “Fox- “You push at him, but to no avail. Plus, you weren’t really trying. You sigh, and give up. “You’re half-asleep Fox, we’ll talk about this in the morning.”

His grip around you just gets a little tighter- not hurting, but… warm. All-Engulfing. “… sure… “He doesn’t sound invested, or even like he cares, but he’s holding onto you like you’re precious and important and it make you want to melt. You won’t, because for all you know he’s high, but you do allow yourself to relax in this dangerous man’s grip. “Come with us tomorrow, wontcha?”

Ha, you chuckle. “No, I won’t.”

“Damn… “Slowly he pulls back, and you see a grin on his, admittedly, handsome face. Even if it is dirty. “Gonna haveta kidnap ya, huh?”

You point a stern finger at him. “Try it, bucko.”

“I just might.”

“Euuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuugh,” Baby exclaims, suddenly, from behind the couch, and you both turn to find the most disgusted look on her face as she looks between you. “You two are sick! Damn- fuck or something; Get a room. Anything but this. I don’t wanna see that. Ugh.”

[doomh3ad]

thinking about...slashers + collaring <3 (nsfw under cut.) including : otis driftwood, foxy coltrane, doomhead, asa emory/the collector.

Otis Driftwood

-he may not live a life of luxury but for sure he wants the best for you. if his angel asks for a collar, they'll get one.

-he's uncharacteristically nervous when presenting it to you, afraid it won't suit your taste and the moment will be ruined. luckily, of course, you're delighted and beg him to put it on you straight away.

-if you'd like an engraved one, it'll probably be along the lines of "Property of Otis Driftwood" or something else to inflate his ego. maybe "Angel" or "Darling" if he's feeling nice.

-if you agree to it, he'll get one with a lock that only he has the key to. he may have a collar on you, but you have a vice grip on his heart and he knows how lucky he is to have you.

-DEFINITELY pulls on it during sex. he's a freak, probably has a matching leash if you're into that. will encourage you to wear the collar at all times because he gets jealous easily, but respects your boundaries.

Foxy Coltrane / The Midnight Wolfman

-same less than ideal background, but he's such a softie for you. when you bring up the idea of collaring, he jumps on it, giving an excited howl.

-he's a jerk that will definitely make thinly veiled sexual comments about it on the days leading up to getting the collar. he'll call you his bitch and jokes about how he should chain you up so you won't go anywhere. well, maybe they're jokes. you're not so sure.

-like otis, pretty nervous when the moment comes. brushing your hair away from your neck or tugging back your shirt so he has access, he'll hear the resounding click of the collar snapping into place and feel complete.

-will manhandle you using the collar. pinning you against walls and slipping a few fingers under it to feel your pulse, using it to choke you or pull you into place. yeah, he's real happy you asked for a collar.

Doomhead

-thinks you're joking when you first bring it up. you want a WHAT? want him to feed you from dog bowls too, sweetness?

-warms up to the idea very quickly. it's a public show of ownership, and he also just thinks you'd look gorgeous in a collar, on your knees for him as he smirks down at you.

-definitely engraved with something slightly mean, as long as you allow it. "pretty bitch" or "pet" likely. he'll degrade you for asking for a collar although you know he's almost more into it than you are yourself.

-keeps a polaroid of you with the collar on, in your place at his feet staring up at him with those gorgeous eyes. when he's away with...business...the memory of you begging him to use you like you're just his pet bitch keeps him in a good mood.

Asa Emory/The Collector

-LOVES the idea, he may even be the one to suggest it if you know him as the collector. you're his pet, his wonderful, curious pet, and he wants to mark you as such. maybe gives you a subtle collar if you're openly known as his partner, so you're not outed but asa can silently gloat that all those annoying flirty neighbours don't own you, but he does.

-compliments you more than usual. you can see his approval, his praise when he strokes a gloved hand along your jawline, trailing down to reach the collar. a quiet "good pet" here and there will have you glowing, he knows. loves to use it to get your attention, gripping just under the collar to make your eyes snap to his.

-one of his favourite things is when he's choking you and he can feel the collar under his hand, and beneath that the curve of your throat as you gasp for air. giving him oral is even more fun for him, as he can use the collar to tug you whichever way he likes.

[its-monster-mash]

can you do an imagine with Foxy Coltrane x Shy!Reader 😅

Absolutely! Sorry this took so long, I have roughly 1 million sideblogs and I’ve been obsessing pretty hardcore over the Fable games lately

Winslow Foxworth Coltrane Imagines: Shy!Reader

• Foxy Coltrane is not a shy man; he is rude, he is filthy, and he loves to get loud

• It’s not on purpose at first, but he loves that cute little blush on your face when he embarrasses you

• Luckily for you, he can’t draw too much attention to himself(and consequently, you) while his family is on the run, so you’re mostly safe from any public shenanigans

• That said, he will 100% go out of his way to embarrass you in front of his family

• They’re in on it too, cracking (well-meaning) jokes at your expense when they know Foxy is messing with you

• You can bet Foxy likes to be loud in bed, and he does his best to make you loud too; the sexiest thing in the world to him is when he makes you enjoy yourself so much you can’t help but make some noise

• If you and Foxy get too loud Otis will bang on the door and tell you lovebirds to Keep it Down

• On the flip side, Foxy can be really amazing about things when you are genuinely uncomfortable

• Holding your hand, circling your skin with his thumb; he is really great at grounding you

• He’s a pretty tall guy, and one of his favorite things to do when you’re getting a bit antsy is to wrap his arms around you from behind, resting his chin against your hair

• He can look pretty damn intimidating to strangers when he wants to, so if you don’t feel like being approached, rest assured, he will make sure they leave you alone

• On the other hand, he is surprisingly charismatic for someone who calls himself “The Midnight Wolfman”; he has no problem doing all the talking if you find yourselves in an unexpected social situation

• On the same note, he is very good at leading the conversation without making you feel left out; drawing attention to topics he knows you’re comfortable discussing

• That said, he has a temper, and if someone is making you uncomfortable and just will not take the hint, he will absolutely lose his shit

• During special occasions where you actually go out to eat? He has absolutely no problem ordering for you

• In fact, he thrives on it; it makes him feel special, like he can really take care of you. Whatever you need- Ketchup, Napkins, extra sugar; he’s got you

• He can’t really make your phone calls for you; considering he’s Wanted by the Law, but he’s got an amazing amount of patience for helping you rehearse what you need to say

• Despite all his loudness, he’s not exactly a social butterfly himself; and he is more than happy to spend a cozy night curled up in bed, showing you all his favorite classic films