#and blames werewolves for everything

[origamihoshi]

Help I played @oneknightstand-if's demo for their game and I can't stop thinking about the MC and how much I love them, so I drew my version of them.

Her name is Maika (but she's now going by Meika because names have power and there's noway she's going to tell an incubus her real name so why not just change one letter). She doesn't trust any of her allies, but to be fair one is a incubus and the other is a guy from her polo club she think is stalking her so she thinks she has some good reasons not to trust them, but it's okay because she has her beloved plant Audrey III and her magic 8 ball and surely they will never betray her.

I also didn't realize you can avoid getting possessed but when I think about it, it fits her very well that not be able to keep demons out of her head.

I love my weirdo amnesiac changeling who needs to stand out and make sure all eyes are on her, and wishes she could be a fairy princess instead of working in fast food.

[imogenkol]

🐺 The Thatcher Family - original work

[template by the lovely @unholymilf]

[bitchfitch]

Consumed with the need to draw a comic and consumed with the knowledge I'm Really bad at actually finishing comics.

[chevroletdean]

mirror sex [dean winchester] ── ✮⋆˙

kinktober 2024

ship: dean x afab!fem!reader genre: smut, angst to note/warnings: explicit – minors dni, established relationship, hunt almost gone wrong, canon-level violence, patching/stitching up wounds, dean’s self loathing tendencies, hurt/comfort, little bit of praise kink, fingering, porn with plot word count: 3.6k a/n: three days until halloween and i feel like i’m way behind on kinktober. i might just try to get to some of these during november as well, my apologies. also, the cat’s out of the bag: i’m a sucker for angst. i’m curious what you guys enjoy to read/write the most, are you more into fluff, smut, or angst?

Dean’s harsh on himself. Always. You knew that even before you started dating him. It’s how he grew up, after all. From a young age it’s been drilled into him by John; that he has to be tough and strong, that he isn’t allowed to think before he acts, that certain things have to be done – even when these things are ugly. Even when they turn other things ugly. Things like the sight of his hands afterwards. Things like his whole reflection, honestly.

It’s days like these where he enters autopilot, in a poor attempt of resorting to a self-defense mechanism. He can’t stand the reflection in the mirror, so he simply doesn’t look. He wouldn’t like what he sees, so he avoids it altogether, if he can.

Saving people, hunting things, the family business – killing monsters always sounds so heroic until you realize your decisions are cut-and-dry to the cruelest degree, until the soap can only scrub clean the red from your hands but not the guilt that still sticks to your skin, and until you begin to wonder who the actual monster is.

Dean’s harsh on himself in that he blames himself for everything. It’s all his responsibility, the weight of the world always on his shoulders.

Hunts go wrong. It’s part of the job, but that thought isn’t as comforting as it should be, because it doesn’t change anything and it doesn’t take away any of the gravity.

Dean and you had been tracking down this pack of aggressive werewolves. The job had sounded so easy, everything had been so straight-forward. Until you two realized that the town’s sheriff was in on it, and ultimately, so was his son. Partially, at least. Just a kid, barely twenty-one – about the age when Sam hit the library, when he should’ve hit on cute girls on campus, around the age of frat parties with beer-pong cups and hangovers.

A guy who had his whole life ahead of him, but had it snuffed out by a silver bullet to his chest. (or rather, by Dean’s finger pulling that trigger, if you’d ask Dean how it went down, because he sees no point in distancing himself from the narrative when it was his doing). Not because that kid wanted any of it. Hell, as Dean and you had been investigating the case, you came to realize all that boy wanted was a peaceful life. And you knew it was possible, some werewolves were able to build up normalcy without killing anybody, picket-fence and all, more so than your average hunter, sometimes.

But you had shot the sheriff, given that he’d been systematically kidnapping his victims throughout the years. And upon witnessing the silver piercing through his father’s chest, the student went downright feral. He attacked you and jumping you, going for a bite that never landed, was the last thing he ever did.

“You had to shoot him,” you told Dean in the car, just like he predicted you would.

“I know,” came Dean’s reply and those were the only words during the whole ride, just like you predicted they’d be.

Even upon arrival back at the bunker, he remains silent. The loudest noises are just his footsteps, which are heavier than usual as he drags you to your shared room, and ultimately the slam of the bathroom door that he shuts behind the two of you.

“Sit,” he says, voice laced with anger that you know he only directs at himself, and nudges you to the edge of the bathtub. You know better than to argue with him and despite the fact that there’s a nasty gash on his shoulder, you let him clean the minor scratch above your eyebrow first. You must’ve hit your head back when the werewolf slammed you against a shelf, but you’ve definitely had worse. But Dean puts others before himself and your wellbeing is always his priority.

Yet, his ministrations aren’t exactly gentle. He dabs the rubbing alcohol to your cut brow without any regard for the way you wince slightly. His eyes don’t meet yours as he shoves his hand into the cupboard and impatiently fishes for bandages. His jaw is clenched tightly as he patches you up with a bandaid.

He’s in his own head, clearly – or trying to keep those spiraling thoughts at bay within his self-critical mind. Those what ifs and should’ve dones would kill him otherwise.

You can only watch as he straightens his back, turns around, takes a step towards the sink opposite to the bathtub, slams the cabinet shut again, and keeps his gaze purposefully low. His eyes remain glued to his hands as he washes them, as if he doesn’t dare to lift his chin.

“Let me help you with your shoulder,” you mumble softly and he almost can’t hear you over the running water and the running thoughts. It’s your gentle touch that makes him snap out of it, but even as he raises his head at last, his eyes only land on the reflection of you. Your face peeks out over his shoulder, one of your arms wrapped around his middle, the other hand ghosting over his blood-soaked sleeve.

“No need, ‘m fine,” he grumbles, stubborn as ever. But as he turns off the faucet, the movement reminds him of the sharp ache and the dull throb in his arm. Just the graze of the sheriff’s bullet. He knows he got lucky, but he also can’t bring himself to care about any of that with every other dreadful aspect of today.

“A couple of inches away from death doesn’t fit my definition of fine, Dean.”

He can’t argue with that, it would be hypocritical. A droplet of blood on your forehead is enough to make him worry and who is he to deny you your concerns when he’s been injured too? Besides, he knows you can see right through him. Physical injuries are one thing, but the emotional damage often runs deeper than any blade or gun could.

Though his muscles are stiff, Dean doesn’t resist as you slowly peel off his flannel. His eyes are still fixated on you. He can’t bring himself to look at the wound himself, much less let his gaze drift anywhere close to his own reflection right now.

Your movements are mesmerizing enough to keep him distracted anyway.

You reach around him to turn the faucet back on and you grab a washcloth. You tie your messy hair back and out of the way and you carefully roll up the short sleeve of his shirt. You dampen the cloth and wipe the blood from his arm. Once you disinfect the wound, he ultimately looks away. Not because of the sting of the rubbing alcohol, but because of the pain he recognizes in your eyes. Your brows knit together and you frown slightly, sighing to yourself.

He can’t bear watching you pity or fuss over him when part of him feels like he deserves this.

“C’mon, ’s not even that bad, sweetheart,” he grumbles, but his voice is strained.

Your movements come to a halt as you blink up at the mirror, expecting to see his green eyes look back at you through the reflection. But Dean’s head hangs low again and his hands grip onto the edge of the sink he’s staring into.

“I’m glad it’s not,” you hum, but you still grab ahold of his hands and pull him away from the sink. “Sit.”

When you say that word, it sounds a thousand times softer than when he did. You know he hadn’t huffed it at you earlier, but rather didn’t bother concealing his bad mood. Still, his annoyances aren’t directed at you, so he makes an effort to pull you closer gently, in apologetic fashion. His hands settle on your hips as he sits down on the edge of the tub. You’re standing between his legs, surgical thread and needle in your hand.

“Lift your arms f’me, babe?”

When Dean follows your instructions without a witty remark about how eager you are to get him to strip, you know the self loathing is bad. You help him peel off his shirt, tossing it straight into the laundry basket. Luckily there aren’t any other major injuries, though you suspect a couple of bruises will bloom by tomorrow.

His hands go back to your hips, as if he’s able to steady and ground himself by holding you, to which you have no complaints. As long as he’ll let you stitch him up, you even let his bolder touches slide. You’re so focused on closing up the wound that you barely react to his fingers curling around the back of your thighs.

With this position, Dean’s practically forced to face the mirror again. It’s right behind you and with the way you’re half bent over, leaning down to his arm, the view is without obstruction. But his attention is fixated on the jeans-cladded plush in his palms. His hands wander higher, fingers splaying out over your curves. He gives your ass a gentle squeeze to which your breath hitches.

“Careful, unless you want to end up looking like Frankenstein’s monster,” you chuckle playfully, relieved that he’s in high enough spirits for teasing touches.

“Since when are you not into the scarred badass guys?”

“Touché,” you smile in response, “Although I prefer them in a confident mood.”

He groans, knowing where this is going, but he decides to play along. “What d’ya mean?”

Your smile curls into a smug grin as you shrug. “I mean,” you sigh and finish the last stitch, securing the thread into a knot and setting the needle aside. “Scarred, badass guys are even hotter when they know that they’re strong,” you continue, before you plant a kiss to his forehead, “that they’re brave…” Another kiss, to his nose this time.

A quiet growl escapes him as he instinctively tightens his grip on your ass. You know he doesn’t fully believe your words, but you’re adamant about convincing him, so you continue with your list: “…heroic.” More kisses, this time a chaste one directly to his lips, though Dean scoffs and pulls away almost immediately.

“Yeah, right,” he scowls. “Nothing screams hero more than murdering someone.”

“You saved me tonight,” you argue back, whilst gently cupping his face. “You’re definitely my hero.”

His gaze wanders from your lips up to your eyes, seeing nothing but gratitude and adoration in them. Both of which he feels undeserving of. Dean Winchester isn’t half the hero you think he is, he’s all kinds of screwed and his fucked up life consists of violence and regret most of the time. Yet you always look at him as if there’s something worth looking at. Even when he can’t see it himself.

“Just doing my job,” he replies and his voice feels thick and wrong on his own tongue.

“No,” you huff, your thumbs tracing the sharp edge of his jaw, the scruff grazing against the pads of your fingers. “It’s not your job to look after me, or to fight evil. But you’re damn good at it and you do it to make the world a better place. Just like you did today.”

He raises a skeptical eyebrow at your words, since he’s not exactly sure how shortening the lifespan of a young man can possibly add any plus points to his karma. But he understands where you’re coming from, even if he can’t accept it fully just yet. He doesn’t regret pulling the trigger either, he’d do it again – in a heartbeat – if it meant keeping you alive. In that regard, what he did was the right thing, but that didn’t mean it was an easy thing.

“You did what you had to do, babe,” you sigh, tilting his face up a little again before he could avert his gaze once more.

You’d tell him that he shouldn’t beat himself up over it, but that would be like talking to a wall. Your reasoning tends to reach him better than the loving reassurances, even though you both know you’re right. Maybe that boy didn’t deserve to die, werewolf or not, but in that moment it was either him or you.

Your lips land on him once more, this time on his jaw, before they wander down the hollow of his throat. Dean welcomes the sensation of your mouth on his neck, your teeth against his collarbones. Your hands on his chest, warm and soft and eager. So eager to make him feel good, to prove to him his own worth.

Your fingers are always enough to make his walls crumble. The sweet nothings you whisper to his ear always suffice. It might not heal him entirely, but his doubts are soothed for the moment whenever you need him. Whenever you give him what he needs. Whenever you love him.

Your hands reach the waistband of his denim pants, against which his cock is already beginning to strain. Once your touch ghosts over the prominent bulge, he snaps and indulges. In one swift movement, he stands up, his hands still tight on your hips as he picks you up and carries you to the sink. Within a second you find yourself positioned on the bathroom counter, your back nearly bumping against the mirror behind you and your legs draped around Dean’s waist. You’d complain about how he should be careful, lest he wants the fresh stitches to rip open, but your protest dies on Dean’s tongue, which he has already slipped past your lips.

Dean kisses you hard and with purpose, as if wanting to repay your praises. Where your mouth works its magic through words, he has always known different ways to use his. Always a man of actions, your boyfriend. His lips wander down your neck, making you gasp in delight.

He grunts, dizzy with the taste of you, your scent, your voice. You’re so soft under his calloused hands that he’s reminded once more of how close he was to losing you tonight. His impatient hands pull your shirt up over your chest, where his lips latch onto. He doesn’t even bother pulling it over your head fully, eager to search your heartbeat with his tongue, as if he’s able to taste that you’re still alive that way.

While you’re busy discarding your shirt properly, Dean’s mouth finds your nipple through the lace of your bra. You arch your back into his touch further, his name falling from your lips in a whimper that almost has his brain short-circuit.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he gruffs and pulls you off the counter, turning you in his arms so you’d face the mirror. His low voice is gravelly and half muffled by the column of your neck, which he still works some hickeys into. “Always treating me like some kind of hero when you’re the one keeping me alive and sane.”

His bare chest is pressed flush against your back and your hips are lodged against the edge of the sink, to which your shaky fingers grip so tightly that your knuckles turn white. You whimper again, softly, as you feel him rock his hips against your ass. Were it not for his large hands around you, one on your waist, the other cupping your breast, your knees would give out and you’d topple over.

Dean shoves a little harsher, his chest still flat against your back as he pushes you closer to the mirror. It’s fogging up slightly with how heavily you’re panting against the glass. Your eyes meet through the reflection and he finds himself not minding the mirror so long as you’re in the picture as well.

The bandaid that used to roughly match your skin color earlier now sticks out against your flushed face, red and warm all the way down to your neck and even your chest. Your lips are kiss-bitten, puffy and slightly parted as your ragged breath is interrupted by little mewls and whines.

Most days Dean’s looks in the mirror and hates what he sees. But he could get used to this view. At least he can appreciate the sight of his own hands on you, one around your throat, the other between your thighs, making you unravel, being held by yours as you reach for his wrists.

“Maybe scratch the sane part, you know you’re driving me crazy,” he revises his earlier statement as his deft fingers make quick work of your jean’s button and fly. His breath is hot against the shell of your ear and you shudder as he watches every small reaction of yours closely, like a hawk.

He shoves his hand straight into your underwear, satisfied when his fingers find your slick and his ears pick up on the meek moan. He’s barely even touched you yet, but you’re already soaking. You’re so damn responsive it almost makes him want to rip both your pants off and just take you until you’ll see stars. While patience is a virtue, it’s not Dean’s strong suit – yet he wants to take his time with you.

“Always taking such good care of me,” he whispers roughly, gently pinching your clit between his middle and ring finger. “My turn making my girl feel good.”

Using your previous methods on you now, he presses a soft kiss to your temple. His lips brush right against the edge of your bandaid. “My pretty girl,” he breathes, before his mouth wanders to your cheek, where he places another kiss.

“My smart girl, always using her pretty head to keep us alive.” God knows his words are true – your quick thinking and ability to stay level headed has saved the both of you out of dangerous situations more times than he can count.

One of his fingertips slips past your entrance, causing you to overhear whatever he adds to the list of compliments. You’re too distracted by the digit sinking deeper into your cunt with little resistance.

Your blush deepens further, fingers curling around the sink’s ceramic. Your eyelashes flutter and your eyes threaten to close, but Dean prevents your head from dropping low with a gentle nudge of his hand. His fingers tighten around your throat, firm enough to make you redirect your focus, but not enough to squeeze your windpipes, let alone hurt you in any way.

“Eyes on the mirror, doll,” he hums against your jaw. “Would be a shame if you were t’miss out on the show, huh? Look how pretty you are f’me, princess, all sensitive and needy.”

You squirm and whimper, struggling to follow his order with how he’s making your head spin. He’s not playing fair. How’re you supposed to focus on anything except him adding another finger to pump in and out of your cunt?

“Dean, please,” you moan, desperately trying to wiggle your hips. You aren’t even sure what it is you’re begging for, exactly. More of him. All of him. Not like you can’t already feel him throb against the curve of your ass.

“Wanna see you cum on my fingers first, baby,” he mumbles, nearly slurring over his own words. But the hand around your throat loosens its grip and he already moves it down to pull your pants lower. “Know you’re almost there, can feel you squeezing the shit out of my fingers.”

You half groan half sob, beyond flustered, but too far gone to argue back. Your legs are already shaking thanks to his fingers thrusting in and out of you and your breathing becomes more ragged with each intake of oxygen. You attempt to throw him a pleading glance through the mirror, but all you can see is your own messy state. Your gaze briefly flickers down, watching his thumb circle your clit in the reflection. However, your eyes are forced back up as Dean’s free hand winds up in your hair and pulls your head back until it’s settled against his uninjured shoulder.

“Eyes up here,” he quips and you’d want to wipe that smug smirk off his lips, were it not for his fingers curling inside of you and pushing you over the edge at last. Your mouth falls open and you cry out as liquid heat rushes through every fiber of your body. You see your own reflection, expression twisted into pleasure and bliss as your orgasm washes over you and you clamp down on Dean’s fingers. Your grip tightens around his wrist, which doesn’t stop him from guiding you through the ecstasy.

“So good for me,” Dean praises, or you think that’s what you hear in your hazy state. You’re still trying to catch your breath as he withdraws his hands from between your now sticky thighs. He brings it up to his mouth, giving his fingers a brief lick. You shudder in awe watching him. His pupils are blown wide, glistening tongue peeking out from those plump lips of his.

But he changes his mind at the last second.

“Not done with you yet, sweetheart,” he whispers and presses his fingers against your lips. You obediently open your mouth for him, welcoming his fingers in, though you flush more as you taste yourself on his skin.

Your walls flutter and clench around nothing just at that, but you have a feeling he’s about to do something about the empty feeling. He smirks knowingly, his cheek pressed against yours, your faces in the mirror side by side.

“Think I should show you how pretty you look taking my cock? I swear, it feels unfair that I’m always the only one who gets to enjoy the show.”

credit & links: ao3 ──〃★ dividers ──〃★ request here taglist: comment a green heart 💚 to be added to the dean x reader taglist (please note: ageless blogs will only be tagged in fluff and angst posts)

@winchester-whiskey @whormotional @spacecowgirl126 @zepskies @hot-and-confused

@spookyfunhottub @calibootsgirl

[kwanisms]

More Than Just Friends — b.chris

» stray kids masterlist «

➮ werewolf!Chris × f!Reader wc: 7.4k summary: Chris is a werewolf. His best friend is well aware of this. But what she doesn’t know is that during his heat, he often pictures pinning her down and breeding her. When she comes back home the day before his cycle is due to start, Chris finds it hard to not give into his urges when he smells she’s ovulating. genres/themes/au: fluff, smut; supernatural and lycanthropic themes, f2l (gasp and they were roommates); non idol au, werewolf au warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, alcohol consumption, Chris struggles with his horny thoughts and controlling his urges but can you blame the poor guy? Being in heat probably sucks when you aren’t getting laid 💀, sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut! special taglist: @yoonguurt , @anyamaris , @wooyoungqueen , @kpop-stories-21 , @xsweetelegantdiasterx , @kookthief , @stardragongalaxy , @millennial-fangirl , @blankdyean , @imwithurmother , @bangchans-angel , @oreoqueen , @yjeonginlvr , @zdgx1 , @shuxsoo , @s00buwu , @queenmea604 , @pochaccomin , @katsukis1wife , @linos-catnip , @wh0r3mir4 Join the taglist! »» Closes tomorrow (30th) at 23:00 CST Strikethrough means I cannot tag you. MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. AGELESS BLOGS WILL NOT BE ADDED.

a/n: this was written partially for myself but also for my bestie, Sky. So you're welcome, bestie ily. We're nearing the end of this series so I'll take this time to announce that once I wrap up with Kinktober, the Tales from Camp Holiday Special will start back up with Jun and Vernon's part. If you’d like to sign up for the taglist, you can do so here. If you haven't read the first two installments, you can find those here. And if you have no idea what I'm talking about and read for SVT, you can read the OG Tales from Camp here! Thank you so much for reading and if you liked it, please consider supporting me on kofi (link on my pinned post) and reblogging or commenting! As always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.

smut warnings: teratophilia (aka monsterfucking), unprotected sex (he’s a werewolf and he’s been dreaming about breeding his best friend. You don’t do that tho. You use protection), oral (both receiving), brat taming (f receiving), breeding, heat cycles, daddy kink, dom!Chris, sub!Reader, use of pet names (baby, babygirl, princess, etc), Chris is a very whipped man and loves Y/N very much. If I've missed anything, please let me know!

dialogue prompt: ❛ We’re not just friends and you fucking know it ��

═══════════════════════════════════════════════════════

Chris is normally a very patient man. He never rushes things, always preferring to take his time in everything he does. He’s always been able to keep his cool, even when things get… a little hairy. As a werewolf, he’s gotten pretty good at controlling his urges as well.

Chris can recall the exact moment everything changed. He can trace his werewolf lineage back to the Joseon period. He is descended from werewolves. There was no camping trip or fateful night where he was stalked and bitten or mauled by some wolf-man beast. 

He was born with his condition, the bloodline being passed down from father to son. The women in the family carried the gene but it was only dominant in males. Only males experienced the Change. Chris was around 11 or 12 when it first happened. He was sitting with some friends, playing video games in the basement when it happened.

He remembered the fever, the sweating, his vision blurring, and then everything went black. When he came to, it was the next morning and he was lying in bed, a cool towel on his forehead and the sun creeping into the room via his window. His mother, who had come to check on him and found him awake, called his father in and the both of them sat down and explained to Chris what was going on.

He was a werewolf. Of course, Chris didn’t understand but as the days turned into weeks, he started to notice the Change even more. His first full moon was approaching and he needed to prepare himself. He started to crave raw meat which his mother was able to provide in the form of rare steak. Chris had never eaten his steaks rare before that point.

Most of the changes were subtle and manageable. The big one was unavoidable. Chris’ first transformation was excruciating but he somehow managed to make it through to the morning and his father told him he had a month to recuperate before it happened again. Chris had hoped that was the end of the surprises but as he got closer to his second full moon, the heat started.

His father had mentioned it but the effects still caught him off guard. He was still only in the beginning stages of puberty so Chris still had a lot to learn about his own anatomy as well as his wolf side. His father assured him everything he was feeling was normal. Every male in the family had gone through this at some point in their lives.

As Chris got older, he was able to manage the changes but the one he still couldn’t seem to overcome other than his transformations was the heat. The intense arousal that seemed to take over all other senses. From sunup to sundown the entire week before his transformations. The urge to fuck anything with a pulse that smelled even remotely attractive.

It was agonizing.

It was worse when he started dating. Once a month, he had to close himself off from his girlfriend for a week. Most of his relationships ended because his partner couldn’t understand and how was he supposed to explain it? How could he explain that he was a werewolf? They’d laugh at him and call him crazy. No one other than his family would understand.

Or so he thought.

Chris was in college when he met you his sophomore year in his economics class. You’d come to class only a moment before the bell rang and despite plenty of seats to choose from, you picked the one next to him. Chris had tried to focus on the lecture but your perfume was enticing. He was close to his heat that day and having such a warm body that smelled as alluring as you did was a horrible combination for him.

He had missed a week of classes after that, emailing his professor who was all too aware of Chris’ nature and understood. Chris’ heat was more intense than any he’d experienced before and he couldn’t keep images of you, the sweet girl who sat next to him once, out of his mind. He hated himself for fantasizing about you, when he didn’t even know your name.

When he returned to class, you were there, in the same spot you’d been before. Chris took his seat in a different spot in an effort to avoid having to look at you for the week’s worth of shame he felt. After the lecture, Chris had hurried out of class to make way to the fitness center for his break between classes until he felt a gentle hand on his arm.

Turning around, he was met with the sight of your smiling face and enchanting scent. ‘Fuck.’

You explained how you noticed he was gone and took notes for him just in case he was sick and then proceeded to hand over a folder full of detailed notes from lectures for the entire week he missed. To say he was shocked was an understatement. Here was a girl who didn’t know his name and she managed to take not only her own notes and complete her own assignments but she took time out of each day to copy her own notes to give to him.

Who did that? Chris was a flabbergasted mess, blushing profusely as he tried to decline your more than generous offer but you didn’t take no for an answer. It was the start of something Chris would come to cherish more than anything else. An unlikely friendship.

Sophomore year at university ended and summer break came. Chris went home to visit his family but kept in touch with you. He wasn’t sure if things would remain the same come junior year but he was pleasantly surprised to walk into his first class of the semester to find you already seated towards the back and pulling out your laptop.

That year was full of study dates at the student cafe, attending football games and cheering for the other team since your university’s team sucked. The holidays brought with it snow and Chris decided to invite you to spend Christmas with his family after he learned yours was going overseas until after the New Year. The drive to Chris’ family home proved difficult as it was only a few days before his heat.

That was the year the truth came out. Chris finally told you everything. He was ashamed but you surprised him even more by accepting him and reminding him that there are some things he can’t control. Chris knew right then that you were going to be a constant in his life. He leaned more on you after that, feeling grateful for the little things you did for him.

Your bond and friendship was made stronger for it.

After graduating, Chris landed a job in the city and was excited when you said you’d be joining him. You both went apartment hunting, agreeing that sharing an apartment was more cost effective than getting two separate places. You both found the perfect one close to both your jobs and quickly settled into a routine. The real challenge came when Chris’ first heat rolled around.

He had a much harder time controlling his urges when you were constantly around and so for the first year, you would spend a week in a hotel but soon that proved to be more than your budget would allow. You were lucky to meet someone at work, a female coworker who understood more than anyone else since her own brother was also a werewolf and she had the room to let you stay for a week.

This had been your routine for the last three years.

“You got everything?” Chris called as you carried your bags out of your room and into the living room where he was sitting on the couch, playing a racing game, his headset resting around his neck. “Yeah,” you replied breathlessly. Chris paused the game and tilted his head back to look at you standing behind him. “You sure?” he asked.

It wasn’t unlike you to forget things and Chris knew this. There were more than a handful of times you’d left for work only to return a few minutes later because you forgot something. It was an endearing trait you had and Chris liked to tease you about it.

“Yes, dad,” you jokingly said, tousling his dark curls. The nickname was meant to be mocking and joking but it always made something stir in his stomach when you said it. Chris would never admit it, even if you were his best friend, but the thought of you calling him daddy lingered in his mind, even long after his heat had passed.

Likewise, you’d never admit it to him but you often thought about adding the extra syllable to the name, if only to see his reaction. Chris wasn’t aware of it but you knew all about his… inclination towards the title. He’d let it slip one night while you were drinking at home, celebrating a promotion with a couple bottles of wine.

[flashback]

“It’s not that bad!” you said in protest as Chris laughed harder, cheeks red from both the action and from the alcohol. “Honestly?” he asked, his laughter subsiding for only a moment. You nodded, your own cheeks warm. “Then it’s not really a degradation kink, is it?” Chris asked.

“It is! But it also feeds into my praise kink,” you said, your filter long gone as you raised your half empty bottle of wine to your lips. It was your second one and both you and Chris had agreed to forego the glasses, opting to drink straight from the bottles.

Chris’ laughter started up again. “Praise kink? Like ‘ oh wow, good job sucking dick?’” he asked through laughs. You narrowed your eyes. “No,” you retorted. “It’s more like ‘you’re doing so well,’ or ‘you take me so well,’” you explained. Chris cocked his head. “So if I were to call you a ‘good little slut’ that would do it for you?”

His question was meant to be curious but you couldn’t control the way your walls clenched around nothing. ‘Shit,’ you thought to yourself as you felt your core heat up, knowing it wasn’t entirely the alcohol’s fault.

There was no denying that your best friend was hot. He’d been hitting the gym since before you met and had probably one of the best bodies you’d ever seen. He was insanely attractive with his strong biceps, muscular thighs and well formed ass. The term cake didn’t even begin to cover it with Chris.

Not to mention those dark curls and dimples that had you weak the moment you met him all those years ago in college. You’d been smitten with him long before even learning his name. And as time went on, you just fell deeper and deeper in love with your best friend.

You couldn’t help it. He was everything you wanted in a man. He ticked every box on your list. He was attractive, funny, smart, kind, and he made you feel safe and secure. He gave the best hugs and he was the clingiest person you’d ever met but you wouldn’t change a single thing about him. Not even the werewolf side of him and the heat that kicked you out once a week.

“Yeah,” you said finally, grabbing the bottle of wine from him and taking a swig. Chris chuckled, shaking his head. “Ah, it’s not that bad,” he replied. “I like being called daddy so, who’s the real weirdo here?”

You froze mid sip, swallowing the wine thickly before your eyes settled on Chris who glanced back at you. “Daddy? Really?” you asked softly. He nodded as he reached for the bottle which you handed to him without a second thought. “Yeah. Weird, right?” he asked before taking a sip.

You leaned in, one hand resting on the back of the couch as you looked up into his face.

“Oh not at all,” you started as he brought the bottle down, resting it on his thigh. “Daddy.”

Chris’ eyes snapped up to meet yours, darkening slightly when he noticed the smirk on your face. The two of you stared at one another before he shook his head. “Don’t play with me,” he said, his voice thick. 

“You’re playing with fire.”

[present day]

The topic changed quickly after that and the next morning you woke with a headache and the knowledge that your best friend had a daddy kink. He of course didn’t remember a thing. Not the sultry stare off or how you almost made the mistake of kissing him that night.

“When are you leaving?” Chris asked, pulling you from your thoughts of the past. He’d taken your hand from his hair and was inspecting your palm, gently running the tips of his fingers over your skin. Something that normally calmed you down but with the memory fresh in your mind, it was having another effect on you entirely.

“Kara should be here soon,” you replied, gently pulling your hand from his grip and picking up your bags to move them towards the door. Chris said nothing, instead looking at the tv. 

He’d never admit it but he had half a mind to ask you not to go. To instead ask you to stay but he knew if you stayed, he’d be unable to control his urges. 

For the last year, he’d been having very intense fantasies about pinning you against the nearest surface and fucking you. Even worse, he had vivid fantasies of breeding you. About fucking you raw, knotting your warm cunt, and filling it with his hot cum.

The thought of his cock buried deep inside your walls as he emptied his balls and then his cock swelling so none of it could escape occupied his mind most of the time when his heat approached. The wolf in him wanted nothing more than to breed you, turn you into his little cum dumpster and pump you full of his cum, hoping it would take and get you pregnant.

Chris knew it was his animalistic instincts, wanting to mate and continue the bloodline. He’d been able to control these urges for the most part. He still masturbated to the thought of breeding you, hiding his shame for a few days. He knew it was wrong to fantasize about you like that but he also knew he couldn’t control what the wolf thought but he could control what he did physically.

“Now you’re sure you have everything?” he asked. You nodded, looking down at your bags. “I’m sure,” you replied. A buzzing interrupted you and you gave your roommate a sheepish smile, moving to answer the intercom. “Come on up,” you said, pressing the button when Kara identified herself.

Chris got up and walked over to the door. It only took a couple minutes for Kara to reach the door, knocking when she did. You opened it and smiled at her, having just finished putting your shoes on. “Hey,” you greeted your coworker who smiled back.

“All ready?” Kara asked. Chris watched as you nodded and started to lift your bags. Kara taking a couple of them. “I’ll see you in about a week,” you said, turning to Chris who stepped down into the entry, hands in his pockets. 

“There’s leftovers in the fridge, just reheat them. Do not cook,” you instructed and Chris rolled his eyes. “You act like I can’t cook,” he mused and you raised your brows. “Have you eaten anything you’ve ever made?” you asked, jokingly. Chris nudged you playfully.

“Make sure to drink water and please do not destroy anything,” you said, holding your hands together in a silent prayer. Chris rolled his eyes, pulling his hands from his pockets and pulled you into a hug, burying his face in your shoulder. “I’ll be fine,” he muttered.

Chris inhaled slowly. He loved the scent of your perfume. It was a scent he’d grown very fond of. His arms tightened around you. He didn’t want to let go. He didn’t want you to leave. He wanted you to stay but you both knew if you did, he might not be able to control himself.

“See you in a week,” you said softly, giving him a small squeeze. Chris reluctantly let go of you, forcing a smile when you pulled back to look at him. “Take care of her,” he said to Kara who sent him a sympathetic smile. “Of course,” she answered. “You take care of yourself too,” she added.

You grabbed the last bag, slinging it over your shoulder and looked back at Chris one last time, giving him an apologetic smile. He waved as you crossed the threshold into the hall and just like that you were gone for a week.

Another week of an empty apartment. Another week of hell without you.

Chris returned to his game, his heart not really in it as he half-assed his way through the campaign before logging off and shutting the tv down. He went to his room to try and get some work done but found that he couldn’t focus.

He was getting restless and he knew one of two things that could help.

He changed into some of his workout gear, grabbing his headphones, phone, and water bottle, and exited the apartment to head to the building’s gym. He usually could push through an hour workout and it usually managed to take the edge off.

He followed his usual routine, stretching, some light cardio followed by weights and then a walk to cool down. As he was on his walk, the door to the gym opened and another tenant came in. Chris had seen her before. She lived on the fourteenth floor. She had recently changed her hair from blonde to a medium brown with highlights. She had her hair pulled up into a ponytail and was dressed in a black sports bra and black leggings.

She looked up to where Chris was, smiling shyly at him as she made her way over to one of the bicycle machines. Chris returned the smile and looked down at the machine controls. He had about ten minutes left on his walk and then he could hit the showers and head back to his apartment and it would be dinner time.

He tried not to notice the scent of the other tenant’s perfume or the way he could smell  sweat starting to permeate the air. He closed his eyes, keeping his hands on the rails as he walked, willing time to move faster. ‘Eight minutes,’ he told himself, peeking at the timer.

He looked up and made eye contact with the woman who had gotten off the bicycle to fill her bottle. She was looking directly at him and Chris couldn’t control the way his body reacted. Heat radiated throughout his body, settling in the pit of his stomach, his dick twitching in his pants.

‘Come on,’ he scolded himself. ‘She’s looking at you. It’s not like she’s flirting. Calm the fuck down.’

Chris looked back up, finding she was still staring at him. ‘Shit.’ He glanced at the timer and saw he had five minutes left. ‘Fuck this. I’m done anyway,’ he told himself as he pushed the stop button. He couldn’t risk popping a boner in the gym simply because a woman looked at him.

He’d shower back at the apartment.

He sprayed a paper towel and quickly wiped down the machine before grabbing his things and heading for the door. He pushed open the door and exited quickly, heading to the elevator and pressing the call button. He waited, shifting from one foot to the other.

He could hear footsteps, and silently prayed for the elevator to arrive sooner. He let out a breath he forgot he was holding as the doors dinged and opened. He stepped into the small room, waving his card over the reader and pressing the button for his floor.

As the doors started to close, a hand shot out to stop them and Chris internally cursed as the woman stepped onto the elevator. He forced a smile, moving into the corner as she waved her card, pressing the button for the fourteenth floor.

The door slowly slid shut, closing them both in and Chris stared at the counter above the doors, ignoring the woman completely. Her floor would come before his. He just had to be patient.

“Hey,” a soft voice said and Chris knew she was speaking to him. He turned his head to find her looking at him. “Hi,” he replied. “I’ve seen you around a few times,” she said, a smile spreading across her face. Chris nodded. “I’ve lived here for a few years,” he admitted.

‘Come on, come on,’ he thought impatiently as the counter continued to rise. “I’m new to the area,” she said suddenly. “Are you from around here?” she asked. Chris nodded wordlessly, keeping his gaze on the numbers over the elevator doors.

“Maybe you could show me around some time,” she offered, moving closer. ‘Fuck,’ he cursed mentally. She was close enough that he could smell the arousal wafting off her. ‘No, no, no,’ he told himself. The moment her hand touched his arm, Chris jumped just as the doors opened on the thirteenth floor.

‘Fuck this’ he thought and pushed past as someone else stepped onto the elevator and he walked down the hall, heading for the stairwell. He’d rather walk than be trapped in a steel box with a horny woman this close to his heat.

Once he finally reached his floor, he made sure the floor was deserted as he headed for the door, letting himself in. He could breathe easily as he kicked his shoes off and headed past the kitchen, dropping his  water bottle on the counter as he headed for his room.

He stripped and got into the shower, turning the water on, letting the stream heat up and wash his body. Once he was done showering, he got out, dressed and sat down at his computer, putting his headset on and turning on some music and getting a headstart on some work.

When his stomach growled, he cursed, pulling his headphones off and got up, exiting his room and making his way into the kitchen. He grabbed one of the glass containers from the fridge and pulled it out to inspect it. ‘Lasagna,’ he noted with a smile as he took the lid off and scooped the contents out onto a plate to heat it up.

Once the food was hot, he carefully pulled the plate out and took a seat at the kitchen counter, grabbing a fork as he did and started to eat. He was eternally grateful for you, making food for him when you left for a week. It wasn’t that he couldn’t cook, he could. He just preferred it when you did.

As he chewed, he wondered what you were up to with Kara. Were you eating dinner as well?

“I can’t believe he still thinks you’re a lesbian,” Kara said, giggling as you took a sip of your wine. “I’ve told him numerous times I’m not,” you replied. “I don’t understand why he still thinks that.”

Kara shook her head. “Who knows,” she replied, glancing down at her empty glass. “Oh, time for a refill!”

She got up, waiting for you to down the rest of your wine and took your empty glass to the kitchen to refill them both. The two of you had ordered pizza, neither one of you wanted to cook, especially after you had cooked an entire week's worth of meals for Chris.

“What do you think Chris is up to?” Kara asked, pulling you out of your thoughts. “Oh, he’s probably playing video games,” you replied as Kara poured your favorite wine into your glass and placed the bottle back in the fridge. She walked back over with both glasses, handing yours over as she took a seat.

“So,” she started, taking a sip of her wine. “Let me see this presentation,” she added and you set your glass down, rushing over to your laptop bag and pulling it out, moving back to sit on the couch, setting your laptop on the coffee table.

Kara continued sipping on her wine as you opened your laptop and logged on. You signed into and pulled up the presentation powerpoint you’d been working on all week for Monday’s meeting. It wasn’t anything fancy but you were pretty proud of it.

Kara looked over it, complimenting your skills and work, making small comments on certain parts. “I really like this,” she said, pointing at one of the slides. “You really made a good point here.” You felt pride swell in your chest until your laptop dinged, a small notification indicating your battery was low.

“I swear, the battery on this thing dies so fast,” you groaned as you got up and headed over to your bag to grab the charger. You unzipped the pocket only to find your charger wasn’t there. “What the…” you trailed off, starting to check all the pockets of your laptop bag but no charger in sight.

“What’s wrong?” Kara asked. “I can’t find my charger,” you replied. “Did you bring it?” Kara asked, getting up from her seat and walking over. “I thought I did,” you replied, feeling annoyed and angry with yourself for forgetting when Chris had asked you multiple times if you had everything.

“You can use mine,” Kara said but you shook your head. “You have a Macbook,” you reminded her. “This is an HP.” Kara swore under her breath. “I gotta go back home,” you said softly. Kara looked up at you. “Are you sure?” she asked. You nodded.

“I need that charger,” you answered. “Especially if I’m gonna be here for a week.” Kara nodded and got up. “I’ll drive you,” she said and you shook your head. “You’ve had like a whole bottle,” you reminded her. “I’ve only had a glass. I’ll drive. You stay here. I’m just gonna run back and get it and then I’ll be back.” Kara nodded as she grabbed her keys and handed them to you.

“Be careful,” she said as you grabbed your purse, making sure you had your phone. You headed to the door, slipping your shoes and coat on. “I’ll be back in a bit,” you called and exited her apartment, making your way to the elevator and pushing the button.

You fished your phone out of your purse, opened Chris’ message thread and sent him a text.

You: i did what i said i wouldn’t. I forgot my laptop charger 💀

You: i’m on my way back to get it.

You: i’ll be quick. Just in and out

Placing your phone back in your purse, you stepped onto the elevator, pushing the button for the garage and waited as the doors shut and the lift descended, heading for the basement. You found Kara’s car, unlocking it and getting in.

The drive to your apartment didn’t take long and you pulled into the designated parking space in your garage, parking and shutting off the engine. You got out, leaving your purse in the car and locking it. ‘In and out, Y/N,’ you reminded yourself as you headed for the elevator.

The ride up to your floor was quiet, the sun had set and most people were already out enjoying the Friday nightlife. The elevator dinged, doors opening as it arrived on your floor and you stepped off the lift, heading for your apartment door.

You unlocked it, letting yourself in. You expected to see Chris but didn’t see him perched on the couch playing games. ‘Maybe he’s in his room,’ you told yourself as you walked through the apartment and to your room.

Turning on the light, you saw the culprit lying innocently on your desk and you glared at it, walking over to grab it and headed towards the door. As you exited your room, you heard Chris call out.

You turned the knob and looked into his room. “I thought I heard you, he said with a chuckle. “I sent you a text,” you answered, peering into his room. He was sitting at his computer, headphones hanging around his neck as he finished whatever he was working on.

“Forget something?” he asked, sounding amused at your forgetfulness. You nodded. “Yeah,” you replied. “I forgot my laptop charger,” you answered. Chris turned to look at you. “It’s always something,” he joked and you smiled sheepishly.

“Sorry,” you said, chuckling. “I’d forget my head if it wasn’t attached.” Chris smiled as he removed his headphones from around his neck, looking over at you. “It’s fine,” he said softly, moving to get up. You pushed the door open further as he approached you. “Do you need anything before I leave?” you asked.

Chris opened his mouth to respond but a sudden strong smell hit him. It was like someone had opened a bottle of vanilla extract and placed it under his nose. He knew that smell all too well. It made every nerve in his body burn. It made his pupils enlarge, his throat burn, and an intense heat form in the pit of his stomach. Lust and desire burned, the line blurring into the primal need to mate.

You hadn’t been careful enough. Neither of you had but then again this had never happened before. How didn't this come up? How hadn’t this happened before? Three years living together and this had never, ever happened? Either you were very lucky or you were always away when it happened.

Chris’ fingers curled into his palm, knuckles turning white as his nails dug into his skin in an attempt to ground himself but what normally worked had never been tested in this situation before.

Chris was about to start his heat and you… you were ovulating.

You watched as your best friend froze. “Chris?” you asked softly. You were surprised when he looked at you, his eyes darkening. “You need to leave,” he said, his voice low and dangerously so. “Chris? What’s wrong?” you asked, taking a step forward.

“Don’t!” your best friend growled. You froze, eyes widening. He’d never spoken to you like that before. “Chris you’re starting to worry me, what’s wr—” before you could finish your question, your best friend had closed the distance and grabbed you, pinning you against the wall next to the door.

“Chris!” you gasped, hands moving to his shoulders, gripping his shirt. “What’s gotten into you?”

His heat was close but it wasn’t supposed to start yet. He’d always been good about controlling his urges so what was different this time?

“I’m sorry,” Chris said softly, his head drooping as he struggled against his own urges. “This has never happened before.” You tried to push him away but he was much stronger than you were. “Why are you acting like this? You’ve always had a hold of yourself,” you continued. “You’re ovulating,” Chris interrupted. Your eyes widened.

“H-how did you know?”

Chris chuckled dryly. “I can smell it,” he answered. One of his hands moved up to your cheek as he raised his head. “I can smell it and it’s driving me crazy,” he continued. You felt one of his knees wedge between your thighs, pressing against your core. “It’s making me want to do things to you.”

You felt a shiver run up your spine. ‘Do things? What kind of things?’

“L-like what?” you whispered, swallowing thickly.

Chris leaned in, nuzzling against your cheek as his lips ghosted over your skin, stopping near your ear. “Would you be mad if I said exactly what I wanted to do to you?” he asked softly. You shook your head. Though you wouldn’t say it, you welcomed it, wondering just what was going on in his head.

“Tell me,” you replied.

You felt Chris nuzzle into your neck, sniffing eagerly. “I want to rip those cute lace panties of yours and stuff that sweet little pussy with my cock.” As if punctuating his words, Chris leaned in, pressing his thigh more firmly against your core.

You let out an involuntary whimper, causing him to groan in your ear. “I want to…” he trailed off. “No, I need to pin you down on the bed,” he said, making you gasp as he pressed his thigh even harder against you. 

“Pin you down and fuck you until I fill you with so much cum. I need to breed you.,” he continued, lips ghosting over your skin. “Breed you like you’re the one in heat.” You let out another gasp, feeling one of his hands move to grab your ass, sneaking under your skirt.

“And of course you had to wear a skirt, didn’t you?” he growled. “I bet you knew it would drive me crazy. That I’d be able to smell everything.” You moaned into his ear as his hand continued to knead your ass, nails digging into your flesh 

“I’ll bet you planned this, didn’t you? I bet your laptop charger isn’t even here,” he scoffed as if it wasn’t lying on the floor in the hallway where you’d dropped it. “Chris,” you whined, moaning as his fingers dug into the flesh of your ass. “Oh shit,” he groaned.

“Say my name like that again,” he dared you. “Say that again, baby. Moan my name and I’ll take you right now.”

A thick silence fell over the two of you as Chris pulled back, eyes searching your face, neither one speaking nor making a move until you finally cleared your throat and spoke. “Chris, we can’t,” you started, looking between his eyes. “W-we’re friends,” you added, letting out a yelp as Chris quickly backed up to create enough space to turn you around to face the wall before pinning you against it, pressing his erection into your back.

“You feel that?” he asked, grinding against you. “You feel what you do to me? What you’ve been doing to me since that first day in economics?” he asked. “I’ve wanted you ever since you sat next to me. Wanted to fuck you raw and pump you full.”

“We’re not just friends and you fucking know it,” he growled in your ear. Moaning, you pushed back against him, earning another deep growl.

“Don’t play with me,” he snapped. “I’m not playing…” you trailed off. “Daddy.” The name caused a chain reaction. Chris wrapped an arm around your waist from behind, lifting you easily and carrying you over to his bed where he deposited you face down.

You tried to turn over but he was quick to stop you, pushing your skirt up to expose your lace covered core. He quickly grabbed the material and tugged, ripping it easily. “Chris!” you gasped but the next second you were crying out as he landed a slap to your ass.

“Don’t speak until I tell you to,” he growled. You felt his fingers glide up and down your slit, gathering your arousal before pushing into your cunt. You let out a groan as he started to slowly pump his fingers before removing them. “Chest to the bed,” Chris instructed. “But keep your ass up.”

You did as he said, lowering your shoulders until your chest rested against the mattress. In that time, Chris removed his hat, tossing it aside as he knelt on the mattress behind you, hands grabbing your hips. He leaned closer, taking a deep inhale. “Fuck, I’m gonna ruin this pussy,” he growled. His tongue ran along your slit, from your clit up and back down, toying with the bundle of nerves, his nose bumping against your entrance.

Your fingers dug into the sheets as you moaned, pushing back against his face. Chris pulled back delivering a sharp smack to your thigh. “Hold still,” he barked. “Do that again and I’ll fuck your hole and not let you cum.”

You whined, wiggling your hips in a silent plea for more. Chris pushed you onto your side before flipping you onto your back, grabbing your hips and pulling your core to his face, burying it in your pussy, tongue ravishing your clit. Your thighs tried closing but Chris wrapped his arms around your thighs, holding them open as he licked at and sucked on your clit, drawing you closer to your climax.

“Shit, Chris!” you gasped, your hand moving to comb through his curls.

“M’gonna cum.”

Chris didn’t relent, flicking his tongue against your clit until you came undone under him, crying out as your orgasm crashed over you. You tried to shy away from his mouth but he held you still, never stopping as he drew you to another orgasm.

As you came down from the second, he finally let go of your thighs, pulling back to wipe his chin and taking ahold of the collar of his shirt and yanking it off over his head, tossing it aside. “I want you to ride my tongue but it’ll have to wait,” he said in a husky voice as his hands moved to undo his jeans, unbuckling but not removing his belt before unbuttoning and pulling down the zipper of his pants.

“Come here,” he said, holding out his hand and pulling you up when you took it. “Open your mouth,” he added as he pushed his jeans down around his thighs. You did as he asked, keeping your gaze on his face as he pulled his erection free from the confines of his underwear.

“Keep your mouth open for me,” he added, taking his cock in his hand, giving himself a couple strokes before guiding the tip past your lips, the weight heavy on your tongue. His free hand moved to your hair, taking a fistful and guiding your head. “Get to work, baby girl,” he murmured.

“Show daddy how you use your mouth.”

Your scalp stung, eyes watered and your throat hurt by the time Chris finally pulled your mouth off him. He’d forced his cock down your throat more than once and even fucked your throat a few times, making you gag. What little makeup you had on was ruined, tear stained cheeks and swollen lips but to Chris you were stunning.

“Lay back for me,” he ordered, discarding his pants and underwear, watching as you pulled your top off and threw it aside, scooting into the middle of his bed. Chris crawled over you, taking your lips in a searing kiss as his hands pushed your knees apart to accommodate him.

Your hands moved to his hair as he guided the head of his cock to your dripping entrance, pulling back just enough to make eye contact. “I want to watch your face as I enter you,” he growled. “Watch your eyes roll back into your head as I fill you with my cock.”

You moaned loudly as he pushed into you, stretching your cunt with his girth, inch by inch until he was buried inside your walls, groaning about the warmth and how tight you felt. It was taking all his strength to not start slamming into you immediately.

“I’m gonna give you a few minutes to adjust and then I’m gonna hold you down against this mattress and fuck you until you cum,” he gave you a shallow thrust, enjoying the gasp that escaped you. “And then I’m going to flip you over, ass up and fuck you until I cum and fill this pussy. You understand me?”

You nodded silently but that wasn’t good enough for him. Chris grabbed your face. “When I ask you a question, you answer me with your words. Don’t make me say it again.”

“Yes,” you answered quickly. “Yes, what?” he asked, tilting his head. “Yes, daddy,” you whispered. Chris let go and smirked down at you. “Good girl.”

No sooner than the words left his lips, his hands were on your hips, holding them in place as he started to pull out and snap his hips against yours, driving his cock into your cunt repeatedly. Your thighs tightened around his waist, prompting him to growl and halt his movements.

You were about to ask what the problem was when he took your ankles and placed your legs over his shoulders. The new position allowed you to feel more, moaning louder when he pounded into you harder. “Oh holy shit,” you gasped, feeling the head of his cock hit the soft gummy spot that had you seeing stars.

“Right there?” he asked, angling his hips and hitting the same spot, making you cry out.

He repeatedly hit the same spot over and over, moving his hand to rub circles against your clit with his thumb. “That’s it princess,” he huffed. “Cum all over daddy’s cock.” You let out a mewl, walls fluttering as you came. One of your hands moved to grab Chris’ wrist, trying to ground yourself as the aftershocks of your orgasm rolled over you.

With each pass over your clit with his thumb, Chris watched your body seize up and chuckled before pulling his cock from your abused hole.

He quickly turned you over, pulling your hips up and taking himself in his hand, stroking a couple times before pushing back into you. This position allowed for all of his cock to fit inside you, making you moan into the sheets, fingers curling into the fabric.

Chris took your hips in his hands, pulling out and snapping forward, his hips hitting your ass with each thrust. He set a relentless and merciless pace, grunting with effort as he slammed into you. The sheets muffled your cries and screams of pleasure as he allowed his animalistic urges to take over.

‘Breed. Breed. Breed,’ the beast in his mind said. Chris let out a low groan, almost like a growl as he pounded into you. Leaning over your back, he slammed his hips into you, burying his cock deep inside your walls before he started to roll his hips, earning a deep moan from you.

“Once I’m done with you,” he panted. “You aren’t going anywhere. You’ll stay here and I’m going to fuck you raw every night. Pump you full of cum and breed you. Fill you with so much cum it’ll have to take. Fuck you until I get you pregnant and then you’ll be mine.”

You moaned, walls clenching around his cock. You felt his hand in your hair, fingers curling into a fist before he pulled back, lifting your face from the sheets and allowing your moans to fill the room. “You want that, baby? You want daddy to turn you into his little breeding bitch?”

“Oh fuck, daddy yes!” you whimpered. “Please fill me!” Chris growled, letting go of your hair and moving his hand to your shoulder, pinning your chest down. You turned your head to the side, each thrust drawing a whimper from you.

“Daddy’s gonna fill you baby girl, cum inside you until it spills out and then I’ll just push it all back in,” he grunted. “Don’t want to waste a single drop.” Your hand moved to grab the wrist of his hand that was pressed against the mattress near your head.

“That’s right,” he groaned. “You’re mine. All mine and no one else’s.” You lifted your head, managing to turn and make eye contact with him. “I’ve always been yours, daddy,” you breathed. Chris growled, pressing his chest against your back and sinking his teeth into your shoulder.

You moaned, walls clenching around his cock as he rammed into you over and over. He lifted his head, lips close to your ear. “Mine,” he growled. “Mine, mine, mine!”

You pushed back to meet his thrusts and screamed as he slammed into you one last time, groaning into your ear as he came, releasing thick strands of hot cum into your cunt. You moaned as more and more cum spilled into your pussy. You had never known a man to have that much cum but then again, Chris wasn’t an ordinary man.

At the same time he was emptying his load into you, his cock started to swell inside, lodging itself in your walls. “Chris,” you whimpered. “What’s—” You heard him shush you, pressing kisses to your shoulder. “It’s okay,” he said reassuringly. “It’s normal. It’s my body’s way of ensuring it takes.”

“Ensuring what takes?”

Chris chuckled, his lips ghosting over your skin. “Ensuring my cum gets you pregnant,” he answered. You let out an uneasy chuckle. “And if it doesn’t take?” you replied. Chris hummed and pressed several more kisses against your shoulder before leaning in to whisper in your ear.

“I guess we’ll just have to keep trying then.”

ⓘ Graphics made by me. Content and support banners made using a template by cafekitsune. I do not allow reposts, translations, or continuations of my works. All writing and graphics are ©️ kwanisms.

[arlos-warm-drpepper]

When I think Derek Hale I think insecurity. Unstable. Unhinged. Derek Hale.

I don’t think “got his shit together” at all!! So in this Ted talk I will explain why I prefer when authors write him as the insecure one, and Stiles as the secure one.

Derek Hale was 19. Truly he was a kid in charge of a bunch of slightly younger kids. A kid who hadn’t had any responsible adult in his life since he was 15 (16?) y/o. I do not know how you can look at this kid and think “oh yeah he’s got his shit together”

The guy who went around biting teenagers the second he became an alpha with NO hesitation. As if that was a totally rational and responsible decision to make. The guy who fell for any woman who gave him the slightest attention. Even if they were evilness.

Because ultimately Derek just wanted someone. A pack. A family. Whether that was in the form of a bunch of teenage werewolves (teen wolfs full name hurhur) or an evil girlfriend. He just needed SOMEONE. Because he was lonely. He was lonely and insecure and probably felt like everything he touched went wrong. Because it did!!! And he probably hated himself for that. Probably blamed himself for everything. For Paige (even though that was peters fault), for Kate (Kates fault. Grown ass woman), for Boyd and Erica (NOT DEREKS FAULT!!!), for everything. Hell, probably even for Laura. And it doesn’t help that Scott and Stiles ALSO blamed him for Laura at first.

Stiles on the other hand, he was pretty secure. Sure, at first he was a little insecure when Scott had just became a werewolf and he felt a little less-than. But he got over that quickly. Over it enough that he rejected Peters offer for the bite. He was hard headed, stubborn, and smart. And he knew he was smart. He knew what he had, his skills. He trusted his instincts ten times out’ve ten. He was secure with himself. He knew when something was off, and he was persistent in trying to get everyone else to listen to him. Because if everyone just listened to him, they would be fine. Because ten times out’ve ten, he was RIGHT!!! And he knew it!!! And he was secure enough with himself to go after the most popular girl in school, despite her having a boyfriend (which I NEVER even questioned the morals of, because he didn’t. Because he seemed so sure in that decision. Because he was SECURE in himself!!!)

Derek Hale might have been aware that he was beautiful on the outside, but that doesn’t mean he was secure within himself. That man is filled to the brim with guilt. Guilt over things that aren’t even his fault. There’s no way he doesn’t absolutely hate himself.

Stiles might have guilt over void, but he knows that wasn’t him. That he tried everything to stop void. He knows he isn’t a killer, and that everything he’s done has been for the greater good. He is secure in every decision he makes. And I know that because that’s practically what he told Scott. Some people are human, some people have to get their hands a little dirty sometimes. He knows that. He is secure in that thought process.

Stiles Stilinski is secure, hard headed, persistent. Derek Hale is insecure, unstable, and uncertain. These are facts. So why are you all writing it the opposite???? I don’t want it the opposite. I want Derek to be pathetic and wet. I want Stiles to be fucking confident, assured, SOLID. Because that’s what Derek needs. He needs someone solid, because he hasn’t had that since he was 15. He deserves that.

[kittenofdoomage]

Wolf Maiden

THIS WORK IS ALSO AVAILABLE ON AO3. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST OR COPY MY STORIES. 18+ CONTENT AHEAD.

Summary: Betrayed by those closest to you, you are left as a sacrifice for crimes of witchcraft, expected to be killed by the otherworldly creatures that dwell in the forest. You wait for death, only for destiny to find you instead.

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

Word Count: 6995

Warnings: werewolves, mates, false accusations of witchcraft, mentions of assumed infertility, reader has a birthmark on her thigh (only the shape of it is described), attempted sexual assault, attempted murder, actual murder (violence and gore), this is a non A/B/O werewolf fic (just regular monsterfucking with knotting, oral sex, and sizekink here) and a very smutty ending

“Y/N Y/L/N, you have been found guilty of witchcraft.”

The wind bit into your bare skin where your ragged dress didn’t cover you. Your arms had long lost any sensation from hanging in the restraints, a mercy considering the wounds from the bindings. Every movement made the wooden frame creak; maybe if you’d had the strength, you could have broken free, but three days of starvation and a meager amount of water had left you exhausted and weak.

“The sentence is death, and shall be carried out by the full moon tomorrow, where you shall be offered as sacrifice to the beasts of the forest.”

Your anger was still burning a righteous pit in your gut. Nathaniel, your cowardly, monstrous husband, had come to see you before the sentence was carried out, and you wished you had clawed his eyes out of his skull. It was all his fault.

“On the chance that you survive until morning, the sentence shall be carried out by hanging.”

He’d never gotten past your inability to bear him a child, never considered it might have been him that was the problem. When his slimy brother had tried to proposition you with hopes of being a stand-in, you had spurned him, only for him and their mother to accuse you of the seduction, and Nathaniel had seen an opportunity to rid himself of his “barren” wife. A birthmark on your thigh that vaguely resembled a crescent moon was credited as the Devil’s Mark, and the whole village had been in uproar. You had never been particularly religious, a notion that worked against you once Nathaniel and his family had begun their lies. According to them, you had bedded half the village, and men were all too eager to blame their weaknesses on a woman.

Especially one who could read.

The moon was high in the sky now, full and bright, bathing the small clearing in white. None of the villagers had hung around to see your sentence carried out - they would either find you dead in the morning, or you would be alive only for them to hang you. There had never been a hanging after a sentence like this; you didn’t believe the stories they told children about the monstrous things in the woods, but you fully believed in bears, wolves, and other hungry predators. If that was your end, you would prefer it to facing the gibbering idiots you’d once called your community.

What little wind there had been suddenly disappeared. Everything was still and silent, aside from your shallow breaths, but it was quiet enough for you to hear the rustle of something in the tree line. You lifted your head weakly, scanning the darkness, but your vision was blurry, so you couldn’t discern anything in the shadows.

If death was coming for you, you were beginning to wish it would hurry up.

Something moved again, and this time, you saw the shadows move. They extended out from the trees until they weren’t a shadow anymore, and you felt fear run down your spine when it stepped out. It was at least seven feet tall, broad shouldered, covered in black fur, and though it walked on two legs, it looked more like a wolf than a man. Startling blue eyes fixed on you, and the creature sniffed the air, prowling a little closer. Sharp teeth and claws gleamed in the moonlight, and as it grew closer, you didn’t make a sound, watching with a dreadful understanding that the tales you’d been told from so young may not have been so made up.

The beast was close enough that you could smell the scent of wet dog clinging to it. It stepped up to the wooden frame, casting its gaze over the bindings and the crusted blood on your arms, then it met your gaze with… pity?

You must have been imagining it. It got closer, sniffing at you curiously, and you held your breath, closing your eyes when his muzzle dragged down the front of your ruined dress. “Please,” you prayed in a barely audible whisper, “kill me quickly.”

It reared back. “Kill you?” it repeated in a throaty yet masculine growl.

Surprise made your eyes snap open again. “You - you can speak?”

He blinked at you. “Yes,” he replied gruffly, before reaching for your bindings. You flinched, still uncertain of his desire, even as he used his claws to break the restraints and caught you before you could hit the floor. He lowered you gently in his arms, checking you over. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

His behavior was confusing. “I don’t understand,” you managed, despite your raw throat. “You - you aren’t going to kill me?”

“No,” he chuckled, though the sound was odd.

“But you’re… you’re the Beast, aren’t you? The one who protects the village.”

He growled lightly. “I do not protect the village,” he rumbled unhappily. “I protect the forest from the village.” With a sigh, he inspected your wrists. “You are not the first I have freed from this place.”

“You freed all the others?”

If he had an answer to your question, he didn’t give it, scooping you up off of the ground again. You were too weak to fight him if you wanted to, and he was so warm you couldn’t resist curling into him, resting against his broad chest as he walked away from the village. “I will help you,” he murmured, “as I helped the others. When you are safe, I will return, and make it look like you were killed in the night.”

You didn’t particularly want to think about what he would do to imitate a death; you’d heard the stories of the bloodied pieces left behind of others sentenced to the same fate. If this creature had deceived the village elders, you only felt amusement that they were so easily convinced, and some relief that previous innocent parties had escaped their intended punishment.

Wherever he was taking you was deeper in the woods than you imagined anyone from the village had been. There was no path, only vague indents in the undergrowth through the thick trunks, so when you came to a small clearing with a hut, it looked out of place. 

“Did you bring the others here?” you asked quietly, curious about your savior.

He kept his gaze focused on the hut, trudging through the leaves with a steady gait. “No,” he admitted after a few seconds. “But the others were not like you.”

“Like me?”

It was hard to tell if he was smiling or not when he didn’t give an answer. He carried you up the unmarked path to the front door of the small building, pushing it open and stooping to step inside. You looked around once he had set you down on the bed in the only room, realizing that he must live there alone. 

Suddenly, he turned, twisting and grunting as the fur on his body disappeared, and his whole form began to shrink, though not by much. The man left standing there was just as broad as the beast had been, and he quickly grabbed a pair of pants hanging in the corner to pull on over his nudity before he gave you an indecent view.

“You’re a man,” you whispered in surprise, watching as he lit a lamp, filling the room with a dim light.

“Not quite,” he replied in a much less monstrous voice. Picking up a jug and a glass, he brought them to you, filling the glass with water once you’d taken it. You sipped it gratefully, not stopping until the glass was empty. “My name is James,” he said softly as he pulled a small basin close and poured water into it. “Though most people call me Bucky.”

You gave your name in return, watching as he snatched up a washcloth, dipping it in the water before taking hold of one of your damaged wrists. “What are you, if not a man?”

“Both man and wolf,” he muttered, cleaning the cuts left behind by the bindings. “I can choose to live in this form or the other. The other is stronger, but the man… the man is more rational.”

“You seemed plenty rational to me,” you observed cautiously. “At least, compared to those bastards in the village.”

He chuckled at your coarse language. “Yes,” he agreed. “I do not get involved, but I’m aware of what you were charged with. It was how I knew to come to the altar tonight.”

You’re surprised at that, realizing he must have visited your former home to know the charges brought against you. “You’ve been in the village?” He nodded, finishing with one wrist and moving to the other. “How have I never seen you?”

“I am very good at hiding myself,” he muttered, cleaning away the dried blood. You didn’t push any further questions on him, watching him work until he was done. “There is food and more water over there.” He gestures to the table. “I will not be gone long.”

The door closed softly as he departed, and you were left alone in the dim light from the lamp on the table. You shivered, looking around to find a blanket behind you, dragging it over your shoulders and huddling on the bed to try and get warm. Exhaustion pulled you down within minutes, and when Bucky returned near dawn, you were out cold.

You stirred when the smell of food aroused your hunger. Sitting up, you saw Bucky, dressed now, huddled over a fire and stirring a pot, bathed in sunlight from the only window in the hut. It smelled like oatmeal, and your stomach growled, reminding you of your last pitiful meal. “That smells good,” you whispered, swinging your legs over the side of the bed.

Bucky gave you a sideways look, smiling. Now that you could see his face properly in decent light, you realized just how handsome he was, like some sort of fairytale knight come to life, if you disregarded the beast he could become. His hair was long and thick, dark strands tied loosely at the back, obviously to keep it out of his eyes. “I assumed you would be hungry,” he murmured, reaching for a bowl.

“What about you?” you asked as he filled the bowl.

“I already ate,” he replied, and you knew better than to ask what. Probably whatever he had used to fake your death at the altar. He handed the bowl to you, along with a spoon, and you hugged it close to yourself, inhaling the aroma as the heat warmed your hands. “I should have some clothing for you,” he muttered absently as his gaze dragged over you in a way that made your thighs almost as warm as your hands. He froze as his eyes landed on your exposed thigh and the birthmark there, and you moved the blanket to cover it, suddenly self-conscious of the stain.

“It’s just a birthmark,” you mumbled. “It’s always been there.”

He hummed, getting to his feet. “You should eat before it gets cold.”

You looked down at the oatmeal, stirring it for a second, and when you looked up again, the door was swinging shut, and Bucky was gone. A lead weight dropped into your stomach, and you wondered if you’d done something wrong, not that you could think what. Was he offended by the mark on your skin? Did he believe what the villagers had called it?

When he didn’t come back, you sighed to yourself and began to eat, small mouthfuls at first, then larger ones when your hunger overrode your better manners. You resorted to licking the bowl clean when you were done, feeling relief for the first time in days. He still hadn’t returned by then, so you got to your feet, placing the bowl on the table before approaching the door, keeping the blanket wrapped around you as you exited the hut.

His retreat hadn’t taken him far. He was only a few meters from the door, digging in the dirt with his bare hands, and you realized he was pulling weeds out of a neat row of growing vegetables. You wandered closer, and he paused, glancing up at you before returning to his task.

“You live here all alone?” you asked curiously.

“No,” he replied gruffly, pulling another weed from the soil to toss it into a pile beside him. “This is only a watchpost. My real home is much deeper in the forest, where the rest of my people live.”

You didn’t know much about the world around your village. It was an insulated existence; your life required no travel when everything you needed was in one place, and merchants often passed through with new goods. Nathaniel had been to the city once or twice, but it was a long journey you had never felt the desire to make. “It must be lonely out here.”

“I like the quiet,” he shrugged, fishing out the last weed before brushing his hands off. He got to his feet, turning to face you. The wind picked up a little, and you shivered, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself. Bucky’s eyes widened and he grunted, moving towards you. “I forgot the clothes.”

Even though he didn’t request it of you, you followed him back inside, lingering by the door as he went to a chest in the corner behind the table, rifling through it. He pulled out a simple cotton shift, turning to thrust it at you.

“This will cover you better,” he instructed, and you took it meekly, moving towards the bed and shedding the blanket. He cleared his throat and turned away, tucking his chin into his chest. “The mark on your thigh -”

“It’s a birthmark,” you repeated, pulling your tattered dress over your head, “despite what the elders claimed.”

“It’s not a birthmark,” he said softly as you dragged the shift on, and his statement made you turn your head to him, tilting it in confusion.

“I’m decent.”

Huffing lightly, he turned, raking his eyes over you, and the hunger in them startled you. You drew back an inch or so, feeling the bed connect with your calves. He stared at you, twitching like he was trying to control himself.

“What is it, if not a birthmark?” you asked breathlessly. “It’s not actually a Devil’s mark, is it?” Werewolves were apparently real, as you’d obviously found out, so you didn’t see why other things wouldn’t be too at that point.

“No,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “The mark of the crescent moon means that you are a wolf maiden.” You frowned at him, uncertain of the truth behind his words. He sighed, letting his shoulders drop as he moved a little close, speaking hesitantly. “It means… you are strong enough to be mated to a lycan, to carry his children.”

You pursed your lips, unable to stop the wry smile twisting them. “I’m not so sure about that,” you laughed dryly. “I’ve never been able to conceive.” Sadness weighed on you, and you let it take you down until you were sitting on the edge of the bed. “That’s why Nathaniel betrayed me, because I couldn’t give him children.”

A low rumble of amusement made you look up at him. “Only because he is human.” His voice lowered, humor turning to anger as he spoke of your husband. “Weak. His seed could not hope to take root in your womb. You weren’t meant for him.”

The words were roughly spoken, and the same warmth his ravenous looks had inspired returned tenfold, making you squirm on the thin mattress. Bucky loomed over you, breathing heavily, and you licked your lips, gripping the edge of the bed tightly as you posed your next question.

“Then… do you think I am meant for you?”

His eyes were almost glowing. “No,” he whispered. “I know you are.”

The breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding came out in a shudder, but he didn’t move, pinning you with his gaze. “H-how could you know that?” you asked, ignoring the instinct in your heart that agreed with him. “People don’t just know, it doesn’t - it doesn’t work like that.”

He laughed, breaking the spell as he looked away. “I’m not a person,” he reminded you gently, moving backwards to the table. You followed him with your eyes, trying to force your tense muscles to relax. Everything about him had you on edge, in a good way, which was somehow more terrifying than if he frightened the hell out of you. “I do not expect anything of you, Y/N,” he murmured, keeping his back to you, “but do not expect me to conceal my desire for you. I knew the moment I scented your blood that you were mine. Perhaps that was why I knew to come.”

“I’m still technically married,” you said, as if your vows meant anything to you with the betrayal from your spouse.

Another low peal of amusement; his shoulders shook with his mirth. He turned to smile at you, one eyebrow lifting above the other. “Do you really think such a human bond as marriage means anything to something like me?”

“I guess not,” you answered prudishly, folding your hands in your lap.

He watched you for a moment as you stared at the floor. You didn’t say a word, worried you’d insulted him in some way, and when he moved, you flinched out of habit, a reaction that made him freeze. “You are safe here,” he murmured with a sigh, moving towards the door. “I will be back after dark. Do not go past the trees.”

The door closed behind him. You looked up, biting your lip as you mulled over his instruction. When you got up and went to the door, you opened it to an empty garden; he had disappeared. You closed the door again, scanning the hut for anything to occupy yourself, spotting a small pile of books by the chest. Moving to inspect them closer, you realized they were fiction, and seized upon them with glee.

Books had always been a comfort, somewhere to escape the brutish hand of your husband and his family. You had read everything the village offered three times over, so the unfamiliar stories you had found were enthralling, easily passing the time while Bucky was gone. When your stomach rumbled, you ate some more oatmeal from the still warm pot, finding fresh logs stacked outside to refresh the flames when they dimmed. By the time night fell, the fire was the only light, but there was plenty to read by.

Eventually, you grew tired again, deciding to let the fire die as you curled underneath the blanket on the bed, wondering if your host would return before you dozed off. He hadn’t, though you thought you heard howls outside as your eyes fluttered shut.

When you woke, you were much warmer, and you quickly realized it was because you were laying against something very warm and very furry. Bucky had returned at some point and now lay next to you, still the wolf, offering the comfort you couldn’t find in the thin blanket. You remained still, comfortable in his loose hold, uncertain whether you should have been upset at his presence or questioning the undeniable feeling that you belonged there.

After a few minutes, you felt the beginning of a more desperate need. You wriggled carefully out of his hold, sliding off of the bed onto bare feet. As you stood, Bucky shifted onto his front, and the monstrous bipedal wolf became a man again, bare-assed on the bed. Your face heated up, and you grabbed the blanket, tossing it over his behind in an attempt to silence your lustful thoughts.

The woods outside were silent, lit pink with the growing dawn. You found a spot to relieve your need, then wandered over to the other side of the hut, staring through the trees in the direction you thought the village was based on where the sun was rising.

Would there be any kind of funeral for you? Did anyone miss you? You hadn’t had what anyone would describe as friends, despite living there your whole life. Other women had spurned you for your love of reading, of knowledge, and of course, your other perceived feminine failures. 

And what were you to do now? You couldn’t go home. You knew nothing of the world beyond books and what others had told you. The thought made you feel helpless, more than you’d ever felt before, and the tears begin falling before you recognize them.

The sun rose higher, and you sat in the grass, arms wrapped around your knees as you stared into the forest, tears leaving tracks on your cheeks. You heard the hut door open but didn’t turn, not even when Bucky approached from behind and sat down beside you. He was silent, though he let his shoulder brush against you in an offer of comfort.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now,” you admitted softly, fresh tears trickling down the paths previous ones had made. “My whole life I’ve been told what to do, and I did it, for the most part. But I’ve never been anywhere. Nowhere real.”

He listened, giving you a few seconds before he spoke. “What does your heart tell you?”

You sniffed, rubbing your cheek against your shoulder. “I don’t know,” you answered honestly. “I don’t understand what I’m feeling. I should be heartbroken, not just by Nathaniel’s betrayal but by… by everyone's!” Your voice rose with your frustration. “Yet I don’t. I feel… I feel…” Words became an irritated noise and you threw your hands up. “You confuse me,” you finally said quietly, glaring at him.

His low chuckle infuriated you more. “I have already told you what I feel,” he shrugged. “My choice is simple. But your choice is not mine to make.”

“You’re not helping this be less confusing,” you grumbled, elbowing him as he laughed again. “How can you be so sure?”

He smiled at you, an affectionate expression that shouldn’t have warmed your insides like it did. “Because we know,” he whispered. “Every wolf knows when they have found their mate.” The look in his eyes sent a shiver down your spine. “I had begun to believe that I would never find mine. It’s why I came here, away from my people, because I did not believe my mate was there.” His smile grew. “Apparently, I was right.”

“So you want me to stay,” you deduced, and he nodded. “What if I decide not to?”

His smile faded. “Then I will remain here,” he murmured, finally looking away. “And hope that you would one day return to me.”

The sudden sadness in his tone made your heart ache. You didn’t say another word, but you leaned into him, and he accepted the small token, both of you sitting in peaceful companionship. Clouds began to gather in the sky, and leaves danced on the ground with the breeze, gathering underneath the trees when they were blown too far. Eventually, there were enough clouds to threaten rain, and Bucky got to his feet, extending a hand to help you up. You didn’t let go once you were standing, giving him a tiny smile when he looked at your joined fingers.

It began to rain not long after you had gone inside, and he immediately started to prepare a meal. Putting all of the weirdness to one side, you struck up conversation, trying to get to know him just a little before allowing yourself to admit there was more than simple attraction between you. He answered most of your questions, telling you about his home and his family, his friends, asking you questions in return, and you began to feel like his life was idyllic compared to yours when your answers were much shorter and less enthused. In truth, your father had only kept you around long enough to marry you off to the first man who proposed a large enough dowry, and then both of your parents had succumbed to the bitter winters several years before. You had only Nathaniel’s family, who treated you with disdain at best, and as an indentured servant at worst.

When the rain didn’t ease up by nightfall, Bucky decided not to hunt that night, joining you when you retired to the bed with a book. You didn’t protest when he curled in behind you, offering further warmth that you happily accepted. The book grew too heavy for your tired limbs not long after, and you hovered between awake and asleep, barely catching his murmured words against your hair as the latter became stronger.

“You’re mine.”

You awoke with his arm around your waist, and something poking into the small of your back. The sleepiness faded as you realized what it was, and warmth filled you from head to toe. He was out cold, and didn’t react when you peeled his arm off and slipped outside into the morning light. Your thoughts were already racing, mulling over your situation with no clear answer to any of it. Bucky seemed so sure of something you didn’t feel you could possibly understand, and if you were honest, while you had devoured romance tales with a fierce desire to feel something like it, the real thing terrified you. In less than two days, you felt more of a connection to this stranger than you had to anyone in your entire life.

Needing to clear your head, you began to walk along the treeline, pausing when you heard the rush of water through the trees. There was a worn path through the bushes, so you followed it, putting the hut behind you as you searched for wherever the sound of water was coming from.

It was only a stream, maybe the width of a person laying across it, maybe deep enough to submerge your ankles. You moved closer, dipping a toe in, and the deliciously cool, fresh water enticed you further, until you were standing in the middle, enjoying the clean feeling. Letting your arms hang free, you tilted your head back, wondering if it would be uncouth to undress and bathe right there.

You hadn’t been able to wash yourself in nearly a week, so you took the opportunity, removing your dress and tossing it onto a nearby rock away from the water. Crouching down, you cupped your hands, washing as thoroughly as you could, lamenting the lack of soap. Still, it was better than nothing, and the sun was rising high enough to bathe your skin in late summer warmth, helping you dry off.

A low growl from the trees made you turn, spotting Bucky lurking in his wolf form, breathing heavily as he watched you bathe. You rushed for your dress, pulling it on as he prowled closer, scenting the air around you. “I told you not to go beyond the trees,” he snarled, baring sharp fangs.

Your indignation at being held there overrode everything else. “You cannot keep me here against my will,” you snapped, attempting to storm off away from him, but he was faster, blocking your escape.

“And where will you go?” he replied with a curl to his upper lip. “Back to the village so that they may hang you?”

“Maybe I should go and warn them that there is an actual beast,” you shot back. He lunged, and you squealed as he hauled you close. “Let go of me!” you shrieked, pounding your fist against his shoulder only for him to laugh mockingly. “I do not belong to you!”

His grip loosened and you slipped free, landing on the ground with a thud. “Then go,” he said wearily, turning his back. “See how far you get.”

Your steps were hesitant when you rose, and you half expected him to follow you. After walking a few paces, you broke into a run, wincing when your bare feet caught on the uneven ground, and you were certain he wouldn’t let you get far, even if when you glanced behind, there was no sign of him. You kept going, unable to believe he had just allowed you to run; maybe he believed you would only get lost, that it would teach you a lesson, and the further you got, the more you thought that getting lost was the least of your worries.

Coming to a stop, you looked around, wondering how far from the village you actually were. You weren’t sure you even wanted to go back there - actually, you were certain you didn't - but at the same time, you were terrified of whatever otherworldly magic was taking hold of you when you were with Bucky. It was too easy to be with him, to give in, and you needed to know it was your own heart, your own soul making you feel this way and not something else.

You had been walking unsteadily for hours, stopping every so often to try and find something familiar to follow. There was no sign of a road, no sign of anything, and when it began to rain softly, you started to feel a little hopeful that Bucky might have followed you after all. If he had, he didn’t show himself, so you continued on, slowly growing wetter and more exhausted.

The bushes suddenly rustled, and something jumped out, making you scream in surprise. It was only a deer, wide-eyed and instantly sprinting away from whatever had spooked it. You spun when you heard a voice, dismay making your heart sink when you realized it was a familiar one.

You must have been closer to the village than you knew. There was no time to hide before they came rushing through the bushes, chasing after the deer they had missed. Both of them froze when they saw you, and your husband’s eyes widened in shock. He whispered your name as his brother scowled at you, and you remained motionless, eyes dropping to the weapons they were carrying.

“You’re alive?” Nathaniel sounded bewildered. “But… the elders.”

“She escaped,” Simon scoffed, pulling a knife free from its sheath. “Little witch bitch probably killed a rabbit for all that blood.”

You backed up, tripping on a root. The men moved closer as you hit the ground, looming over you. “You should be dead,” your husband ground out.

“Everyone thinks she is,” Simon chuckled, crouching down to press the tip of his knife to your chin, and you swallowed hard, wishing you hadn’t tried to escape the safe haven you’d been in. “I say we take what she owes us. Or me. Never did get to feel that sweet little cunny you always talked about.”

Revulsion propelled your hand, knocking the knife out of his grasp. “Get the hell away from me,” you yelped, attempting to scrabble away from them, but they were larger, stronger. Nathaniel grabbed hold of you, wrapping an arm around your neck as you struggled against him.

“Now, now, my pretty little wife,” he cooed in your ear. Simon approached from in front of you, rubbing the crotch of his pants lewdly. “You’ll do at least one thing right before you die.”

You weren’t about to let it happen, striking out with your foot, managing to catch Simon right in the balls. He went down, clutching at his groin, moaning as Nathaniel shoved you onto the floor, pulling out his knife. “Fucking kill her!” Simon wailed, tears running down his cheeks as he tried to stand, and though you felt a deep satisfaction at wounding his pride, you were more concerned about the sharp knife your husband was approaching with.

“I’ll just slit your throat,” he growled. “You won’t be a problem anymore.”

He reached down but his fingers never made contact. Something large and black flew over your head, and as lightning cracked the sky from one side to the other, you saw Bucky tearing your husband apart. Simon screamed for his brother, only to draw the wolf’s attention to him; later, you’d mull over how the sight of two grown men being shredded should have been more upsetting to you, but in the moment, you were more concerned with the huge werewolf now stalking you. The rain got heavier, and blood ran off of his fur as he moved, coming closer to you as you watched, rooted to the spot.

Nathaniel’s blade was in his shoulder. You took a step towards him, reaching for it, and he flinched away at first, relaxing when you pressed a hand to his fur, using the other to pull the knife free and toss it away. He didn’t make a sound, and the wound closed in front of your eyes. A clawed hand cradled your face, and you leaned into him, relieved he’d come for you after all.

“You’re mine,” he growled low in his throat, sounding more like the animal than the man. His other hand curled around your hip, clawed thumb inadvertently tearing through the fabric of your dress. “I can’t let you go.”

You gasped as his long rough fingers pressed between your thighs. “Bucky -”

In all the time you’d seen him in that form, you hadn’t really thought of him as naked, even if he had been when he changed back to human. Now, his arousal was evident as his thick red cock emerged from its sheath, poking insistently into your belly. You had never considered the possibility that he might take you like this, if it would even work, but now, the thought wouldn’t stop, building into a desire that had you panting in his hold.

Your back hit the ground when he pushed you down, shredding the material that covered your wet skin. His muzzle nudged between your legs, long tongue rolling out to drag over your cunt, and you whimpered, reaching down to slide your finger through the thick fur near his pointed canine ears. He grunted when you grasped at them, nuzzling closer to you as his eyes closed, flicking his tongue against your entrance before sinking it inside.

His clawed hands pushed your knees up and apart, and he delved deeper, filling you with his tongue over and over. You almost couldn’t breathe, gasping as he feasted on you. The sounds he made were obscene, showcasing his obvious enjoyment of the task, tightening his grip on you when you began to squirm, frightened of the intense pressure he was creating. It grew stronger and you felt tears in your eyes as it seemed to explode inside you with a gush of warmth that he lapped up eagerly, slowly releasing you as you covered your face and sobbed.

Bucky stopped, lifting his head, crawling over your body until his nose could nudge at your hands, coaxing them away from your face. “Did I hurt you?” he asked in a rough voice edged with concern.

“No!” you cried, fixing wide eyes on him. “No, I -” Embarrassment made you want to cover your face again, and you looked away, guilty at your own inexperience. “I’ve never felt anything like that,” you whispered, shame making your eyes fill again. “No one’s ever -”

He chuckled, nuzzling into your face. You lifted your hands to frame his snout. “I will never leave you unsatisfied, my beloved,” he murmured, drawing your legs around his waist. “And I would never hesitate to taste you like that.”

Your breath caught in your throat when you felt his cock pressing against your bare slit. The anticipation made you quiver underneath him, though you didn’t voice your concern over his size, wondering how he could possibly fit. He sensed your apprehension, humming deeply as he grazed your shoulder with his fangs.

“Do not fret,” he soothed. “I will not hurt you.”

You clung to his thick fur, nodding as the tip breached your aching channel. He was warm, almost radiating heat, and though you expected pain from the penetration, there was none, only a heady rush of arousal as his thick cock split you open. Each inch filled you with a delicious thrill, and by the time he was seated deep inside, you were already back on the edge of the same pleasure he’d inspired before.

His breathing changed, becoming hard pants against your shoulder as he held steady and deep within you. You squeezed your eyes closed when his sharp teeth grazed your skin again, clenching around him, and he growled at the sensation, jutting his hips forward a little more. The movement made you aware of something unusual; the base of his cock was thicker, almost swollen, and when he pushed a little more, you realized it was a knot.

He started to move without warning, lifting his head to fix his blue eyes on you just as you fell apart at the drag of his thick shaft against your sensitive walls. You cried out, twisting your fingers in his fur, tormented by the unbearable ecstasy running through you. 

“I - I can’t - it’s too - too much!”

With a low growl, Bucky dipped his head, tearing through the remnants of the dress covering your chest. His tongue circled around one nipple, teasing it to hardness, and your eyes rolled back, body twitching as euphoria picked you apart into a million pieces. You couldn’t think or speak, couldn’t manage more than a whimper as he took you and laid claim to every part of you.

An abrupt withdrawal allowed you to find some sort of control over your limbs, but you only had time to lift your head before he flipped you onto your stomach, dragging your hips up into a lewd position that exposed you to his hungry gaze. His claws dug into your skin, breaking through in places, leaving tiny smears of blood as he manhandled you, and it was only the damp moss that stopped your knees scraping against the rock. With one stroke, he entered you again, and this time you screamed, feeling him at a new depth and angle that made your eyes cross.

He howled as he filled you, launching into a punishing rhythm that sent you spiraling. The craving for him grew stronger than the fear of your body’s response to the overstimulation, and soon you were pushing back against his thrusts, seeking more of what he offered. Your cries echoed in the trees around you; you barely noticed that it had stopped raining.

The base of his cock began to swell, pressing more insistently against your bruised opening. You mewled, digging your fingers into the ground, suddenly desperate to feel it, but Bucky didn’t stop, keeping his pace steady until the desperate and high-pitched ‘please’ fell from your lips. He snarled and took hold of your shoulder, pulling your whole body down hard. The thick knot slipped inside and locked him there, and your wish was granted; he came with a throaty roar before his teeth sank into your shoulder, permanently branding you. It only hurt for a second, and then you came with him, drunk on the feeling of his spend filling your belly.

You went nearly limp in his hold, panting heavily. He dragged his tongue over the mark he’d left on your shoulder, cleaning it as he waited for his body to calm, allowing him to withdraw his knot from the grip of your cunt. In the few minutes you were locked together, you bathed in his touch, feeling nothing but the delicious buzz of your connection and the lingering echoes of the pleasure he’d given you. You weren’t sure how long it was before he could finally withdraw, and when he finally did, there was a brief moment of loss and cold, making you shiver. 

He didn’t go far. Sliding his arms underneath your body, he cradled you against his chest, beginning the walk back to the hut, leaving the two bodies behind for someone else to find.

A further warning for the people who had been so unkind to you to keep away from where they did not belong.

“Tomorrow, we will leave,” he said as he carried you through the trees. You smiled, burrowing your face into his warm, if a little damp, fur. “Another will take my place here.”

“We’ll go to your village?” you asked sleepily, and he nodded, humming a confirmation. With one hand pressed against his chest, you let your eyes fall shut without saying anything else, without need to say anything. He kept walking, holding you close, secure against his body, the steady beat of his footsteps lulling you into a doze.

When he reached the hut, he carried you inside before shifting to his human form, slipping behind you on the bed to hold you close. You weren’t quite asleep, turning to face him and looking up as he smiled down at you. “I did not mean to be so… rough,” he whispered, running his finger over the wound on your shoulder.

“I wasn’t complaining at the time,” you reminded him, catching his hand with your own. “I’ve never felt that way before.”

His smile softened, and he leaned in to kiss you properly, dragging it out until you pulled back to gasp for breath. “Do not think I have had my fill of you,” he warned quietly, tugging you as close as he could get you. “But you should sleep. The journey home is long.”

You didn’t argue when your eyes were already drooping shut, despite the renewed throb of need in your core. Bucky wrapped his arms around you, almost sheltering you with his body, making you feel safer and more loved than you ever had before. It didn’t matter how this had come to be, only that it had, and nothing would change it. You belonged to man and beast alike.

And he belonged to you.

THANK YOU FOR READING, PLEASE CONSIDER REBLOGGING SO OTHERS CAN ENJOY IT 😁

[morganwrites12672]

2000 - Eighteen Years Old

Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Everything is going great between her and Dean whenever Sam says something that ruins it all.

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Injury (not received during the fic). Kissing. Angst. ANGST. Crying.

A/N: I hope that you guys enjoyed the last part being happy... And, here's a link to the series master list: 𝕆𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕐𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕤

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It wasn't uncommon for her to be left with Dean and Sam while her father hunted with John. Ever since she had finally turned eighteen, it had been though. The only reason she wasn't helping on the hunt was the pesky wound across her calf.

Having a werewolves claws slash through her calf hadn't been pleasant in the slightest. And, to make matters even worse, her father wouldn't even consider letting her anywhere danger. Being stuck in a motel sucked. There was no sugar coating it.

The buzzing of the A.C. unit filled the room. The old motel smelled like stale beer and a pine forest. The pleasant smell of pine was probably because of where they were. Being surrounded by the forest was an eerie, but peaceful, thing.

Everything was fine, ignoring how boring it was. Dean's presence was slightly confusing though. He had had the opportunity to go hunt with John and her father. She knew why he had turned it down though. Her. She hadn't expected it in the slightest.

Being stuck in a piece of shit motel with his little brother didn't sound like something that she thought she was worth. Still, it was nice to know though. She had desperately tried to find an excuse to be alone with Dean. It hasn't been working out in her favor so far.

Even if Sam was now plenty old enough to drive since he'd recently turned seventeen (and gotten his license),there was no way in Hell that Dean would hand over the keys to Baby for any reason. That would be suspicious anyways.

Dean had spent plenty of time planning though. He had figured out exactly how to get her alone, even if it wouldn't be for very long.

Whenever Sam had went outside to read, Dean had jumped on the opportunity. He found her lounging on the couch, an old paperback with a worn cover in her lap. Spending days on end in motels had taught her how to keep herself busy on the days that never seemed to end.

"Sam's outside," Dean said as nonchalantly as he could, sitting down on the couch. He leaned back into the thin cushions. At least the motel even has a couch. They had gotten lucky.

"Ah," she said quietly, finally placing her bookmark onto the page she had been reading. As she leaned forward to set her book down on the small coffee table in front of her, she looked down at her calf. A small bandage was still wrapped around where the wound was. Even if it wasn't that deep and half healed, it still burned if she moved the wrong way.

"He took a book," Dean added. "He's probably going to be gone for a little while."

Her head tilted ever so slightly as she looked over to Dean. A coy smile stretched her lips. It didn't take a rocket scientist to realize what Dean meant. She couldn't blame him either. They hadn't been a long together in what felt like months (even if their last make out session had been a few weeks ago).

She sat closer to Dean, her bare thigh now resting against his denim clad leg. All Dean could think about was how much he loved summer and the reduced length of her clothing during the hottest months.

She was close enough for Dean to catch the aroma of her perfume. He inhaled deeply before his eyes raked over her body. He wished that there was more time to spend with her right now.

Understanding the time crunch they were in, he wasted no time at all.

His hand snaked around her waist, pulling her into his lap. Her breath caught in her throat as she found herself perched on top of his thigh. One of his arms wrapped around her waist, the other one around her neck as he pulled her in even closer.

"We don't have long," she murmured softly as Dean's lips inched closer to hers.

Dean didn't reply, instead choosing to press his lips against hers. His lips swallowed up the small gasp that had slipped past her lips as he finally kissed her. He was careful to make sure that he didn't accidentally brush up against the bright white bandage that was wrapped around her calf. Even if all he could think about was the feeling of her sitting in his lap, he still made sure to be careful.

Her arms wrapped around Dean's neck as she deepened the kiss. Their lips moved against each other, not even stopping for a breath. The kiss was breathless and desperate. Dean kissed her like a man starved of the taste of her lips. And, he had been for the past few weeks. These last few weeks had felt like literal Hell for Dean. Being without her was like being without water. He couldn't survive without either thing for long.

He gripped her tightly against him, finally breaking the kiss. His chest heaved as he began trying to catch his breath. The adrenaline rush that she gave him was addictive. If she was a drug then Dean was already hooked, desperate for anything from her. Every taste of her had him begging for more.

Every brush of his fingers over the bare expanse of her neck sent shivers down her spine. She wanted more. No, she needed more.

"Dean-" her desperate words were cut off as the sound of the front door jiggling made her jolt in surprise. She darted off of Dean's lap and sat on the couch across from him. The door finally opened, it wasn't surprising that it had taken Sam so long though. The key kept getting stuck, or the door would jam.

Sam walked into the small living room just as she sat down on the couch opposite of Dean. The younger Winchester brother was clueless as he sat down next to her. He didn't notice her lust blown pupils, or the throw pillow on Dean's lap.

"Bobby called me while I was reading," Sam told her.

His words made her realize that her own cellphone was still in the kitchen. Her father had probably tried calling her whenever she had been sitting in Dean's lap, far too distracted to hear the ringing. The thought made her cheeks blush pink in embarrassment.

"Why?" Dean said a bit too harshly. He was still pissed off that Sam had walked in so quickly. He never had any space.

Sam shrugged, "Making sure that we were all alive."

Dean abruptly stood and walked into the kitchen. He needed a quick break. Probably a cold shower too. Anything to help him calm down. And to distract him from what it had felt like whenever her arms had been wrapped around his neck. He slammed the fridge door shut once he had grabbed the last beer.

She stayed in the living room, conversing with Sam. The younger Winchester had always been fond of her presence, not in the same way as Dean was though. The two brothers liked her for completely different and opposite reasons.

Sam enjoyed her presence, he enjoyed being her friend. Dean enjoyed the feeling of her lips against his. The two brothers had very different thoughts about her.

"Did I tell you about what happened in Texas?" Sam suddenly asked her. "You should have seen Dean! He tried hitting on this waitress and-" Sam stopped speaking whenever he saw the look on her face.

One look at her expression told Sam that she didn't like the idea of Dean flirting with random waitresses. He hadn't realized that this would have been such a sensitive topic. If he had, he probably would have kept his mouth shut. Not to protect Dean from her wrath, no to protect her from the hurt she was now facing.

It felt like her heart had been ripped out and left on the floor. Dean meant everything to her. Finding out that he didn't feel the same way made her sick. All sorts of anxiety thrashed around inside of her gut. Her jaw tightened as she stared at Sam.

"Does he do that a lot?" She asked in a tight, controlled voice. She wouldn't cry in front of Sam.

"H-he doesn't," Sam said quickly, the lie being easy to spot.

Dean had caught the last few sentences of the conversation and froze. He tossed the new empty bottle of beer in the trash can and almost ran into the living room. He spotted the heartbreak blatantly obvious on her face and hesitated. He didn't have time to say anything to Sam, his younger brother was already making his way out of the room. Probably a good idea. Dean didn't want to yell at the boy.

She stood, standing in front of Dean. He wouldn't let her walk away without an explanation. Even if he couldn't think of a good one. All of the flirting he did was completely harmless, he wasn't cheating on her. Dean might attempt to flirt with any girl in a twelve mile radius, but he wouldn't do something that horrible. Not whenever he cared about her so much.

Dean called out her name, she ignored him.

"Dean, I don't want to hear it!" She snapped, unshed tears stinging her eyes and making her throat burn.

"I'm not cheating on you! I-It's harmless, I swear."

She walked past Dean, slapping away his hand whenever it darted out to grab her wrist. All of the words that Dean yelled after her sounded muffled, like her head was underwater. It felt like she was drowning in a sea of her own misery. All of her time with Dean now made her wince. She didn't look back on those memories with a smile anymore.

The front door was almost within her grasp now.

Only a few more steps and she could leave. She wasn't sure where she would go yet, only that she couldn't bear to stay in the motel with Dean for another second. The quick pace made her wound strain, her calf tensing. The throbbing sensation was at the back of her mind. The physical pain pales in comparison to the galing hole in her chest where her heart used to be.

"I never want to see you again!" She yelled as Dean grabbed a hold of her wrist before she could walk out the door.

Her words made his heart drop. He knew that she had every right to be msd. That didn't make him want to let her go right now. He wanted to wrap her up in his arms and tell her that everything would be okay. It was painfully obvious that that wouldn't be happening.

"You have to-" Dean's words were almost instantly cut off.

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she found her voice again. "I don't have to do anything for you! I loved you Dean. I really did," her voice crackled as she spoke. "A-and you never really cared. Not enough to stop flirting with every girl you meet!"

Her angry, hurt words were enough for Dean to drop her wrist. He stood there in silence, his jaw slack, as he watched her storm out the front door. He watched her leave, and suddenly regretted every single time he'd exchanged a few flirty words with a random girl.

She didn't know where she was going, only that she wasn't going back to that motel room. She couldn't face Dean. But, she also couldn't stay out of the motel. Her phone, wallet, and all of her other belongings were in there. Maybe she would have remembered to grab them if she hadn't been in such a rush.

She would go back later. That was what she planned to do, until she saw the motel door open. Sam walked out, her duffel bag in hand. His eyes were brimmed with tears as he walked across the parking lot to where she stood.

"I-I'm so sorry," Sam whispered as he handed her the bag.

"It's not your fault Sammy. Don't blame yourself for what your brother did," She said with a sniffle. She swallowed the lump in her throat, willing herself to be strong in front of Sam.

Sam threw his arms around her, a sob escaping out of his throat. It made her heart ache even more than it already did. She wasn't just leaving Dean, she was also leaving Sam. The younger Winchester boy wouldn't see her for a while.

"T-tell me I'll see you again soon." His voice cracked and shook with every word as he finally pulled away from the hug.

Lying to Sam hurt. She did it anyway.

"You'll see me again soon, really soon." Her promise was nothing but bullshit. She wouldn't be going anywhere near a Winchester for a while. It would hurt too much. The pain was still so raw and twisted in her gut. Unlocking her car made her realize how permanent this would be.

"Tell my dad I'm going home if he calls and I'm not in the rang of service." Her last words to Sam before she left were painful. Every word felt like she was choking on it. Her throat burned.

She let the tears fall freely as she tore out of the parking lot. Guilt and pain tore her apart.

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A/N: Thank you so much for reading!

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[gamerwoo]

Bang Chan: The Girl Who Didn't Cry Wolf (Part Four)

Characters: Bang Chan x fem reader

Genre/warnings: werewolf au, fantasy, enemies-to-lovers-ish??, slowburn, werewolf/alpha!chan, (werewolf)hunter!reader, fluff for once wow!!!, angst to balance it out :), mentions of death and murder but nobody actually dies, [dialogue in bold is meant to be korean]

Word count: 3,664

Summary: You've learned to do whatever you can to protect yourself after an incident almost a decade ago had your father and brother dragging you to a new country to start all over even though they blamed you for what happened. After finding yourself stuck in a house of werewolves, you're forced to come to terms with your feelings over what happened back home when the alpha imprints on you and his pack claims they're keeping you prisoner. You know exactly how this will end if you give in, and yet you can't seem to get yourself to leave the sweet and charming werewolf who's willing to do anything to make you comfortable. You're just hoping that maybe there'll be a good end this time.

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“Can you stop instigating with him? He’s never gonna let go of this grudge against you.”

“I never said I wanted him to like me, Christopher.”

“Good, ‘cause it won’t happen,” Minho stated, side-eyeing you from across the room.

While you didn’t know what he said, Minho knew everything the two of you were saying. He would never let you know that, though – except for the one time he told you that him and Seungmin were taking you captive, but he just wanted to make sure he really got his point across. And he also refused to converse with you in the only language you knew, so he’d just make you suffer by never knowing what he was saying to you.

You looked over at him and stuck your tongue out at him, so he flipped you off.

“This is exactly what I’m talking about!” Chan exclaimed.

“Maybe you should imprint on someone who wasn’t training to kill you,” you suggested, tilting your head back over the back of the couch to look at the man standing behind you with a frown. “And don’t give me that look, it’s your own fault.”

It took two days for the pack to manage to coax you out of Chan and Felix’s bedroom and start living like a sort-of-normal person. You were still wary of the pack, but you were mostly just still pissed at the pair who had declared you a hostage, so you eventually took Chan’s breakfast invitation to go downstairs and be face-to-face with the werewolves in hopes of annoying the absolute hell of out them – if they were going to force you to stay with them, you were going to make it their problem. However, since you didn’t have any physical weapons to use, you used any wit you had left in you after slowly going insane over the last few days.

Most of them didn’t bother you except for Seungmin, who seemed to go out of his way all morning to piss you off. Minho was the only one who seemed to ignore you altogether, but you didn’t really think anything of it – even though he attacked you. Twice.

Chan was always around you, though. Surprisingly, you liked it, which sort of made you feel a bit worse considering the circumstances, but you tried not to think about that too much. Without him, you’d probably be a little intimidated by the pack, so you opted to just stay beside him. It clearly pleased him, and it made you feel a hell of a lot safer. You still kind of disliked him, though. Admittedly, you didn’t hate him, but you were afraid of the feeling you got because of him and what would happen if you were to get caught in the situation you were in.

You were afraid of a lot of your feelings, but you were trying to not think about it too much since you were stuck in the current situation thanks to Minho and Seungmin. Since there wasn’t much you could do about it, why worry about it?

“Can you just tell your mate to shut up?” Minho asked the older wolf, which was something he suggested at least three other times that day.

“No,” Chan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, “but even if I did, she wouldn’t listen.”

Don’t get it wrong, most of the pack was being nice to you, but it was hard getting close with a pack of wolves when you knew you weren’t supposed to and you knew the consequences if you did. Still, you were trying to make the best of a very shitty situation.

“Learn to stand up to her, then,” Minho told him. “Be a man.”

“Yeah, Christopher,” Hyunjin giggled from where he was playing cards on the floor with Felix, “be a man.”

This time, it was Chan’s turn to stick his tongue out, aiming it at his pack. You just laughed harder, lifting your head to give Minho a shit-eating grin since Chan was apparently on your side now. You got up on your knees and rested your arms against the back of the couch to face him. He placed a hand on either side of your arms and raised his eyebrows like he expected you to say something profound.

Then again, in his head, everything you said was profound.

“I hate when you look at her like that,” Minho frowned, looking at the two of you since he had nothing else to look at.

Chan looked around you at the grumpy wolf in the armchair, “You mean...how I always look at her?”

“Yes.”

Chan’s eyes flickered back to you, his lips in a tight line that brought out his dimples, “Guess I have to stop looking at you, _____. Minho doesn’t like when I do.”

“If you have a melon baller, it makes for quick and easy eye-gouging,” you noted deadpan.

You heard Felix make a noise of disgust from the corner.

“Ew,” Hyunjin frowned, though you couldn’t see the repulsed look he was giving you. “Why do you know that?”

Chan looked at you like you were crazy, but still had that adoration for you in his golden eyes as he always did, “_____, are you with me or against me?”

You hummed softly as you thought before deciding, “I feel like I can play both sides.”

The smile on his face made your heart melt, but you hoped it didn’t show. You still weren’t completely comfortable showing your feelings toward Chan, but thankfully, you mastered the poker face long ago.

Deep down, though, he knew how you felt. He knew you felt the pull, but you had also admitted to him the previous night that you didn’t want him to know you were leaving. You said you thought it was best if you just left and that was that. A clean break was easiest for both of you. So he knew you at least cared about his feelings.

You were both torn from the moment when fabric landed on your head. Chan had noticed Seungmin enter the room from the corner of his eye, but he didn’t think much of it since you were so close to him and it was all he found himself able to focus on. But Seungmin had tossed some sort of knitted sweater on your head, covering your eyes. You pulled it off of your head to examine the soft, pale yellow material.

You turned your head to see him already leaving the den, “What’s this for?”

“Now we’re even,” he called back, already around the corner of the doorway so you couldn’t see him anymore.

“A sweater doesn’t make up for tackling me, but okay,” you muttered as you picked up the sweater by the shoulders and held it out to look at it. It looked big and warm, which was good since Chan’s room could get a little chilly at night.

Chan poked his head around the sweater, grinning from ear to ear, “Aw, Seungminnie likes you!”

You looked at him like he was crazy, “Does he?”

“He wouldn’t have gotten you anything to apologize if he didn’t,” he explained. “He must feel really bad, actually.”

“At least somebody does,” you whipped your head around to look pointedly at Minho, but he was gone now. 

You figured he must’ve left before Seungmin showed up.

As you turned back toward Chan to fold the sweater, you admitted, “Actually, it’s really nice he got me a sweater. Your room is freezing at night.”

“You know, _____,” Hyunjin spoke up with a smirk as Felix started giggling, “Channie is pretty warm.”

Seungmin sighed as he walked back into the living room with a sandwich in his hand, “We’re all warm, dumbass.”

You frowned a bit. You had considered asking Chan to stay with you, but that would’ve made everything a thousand times worse for you, “I know, but...I like privacy.”

“And you can have all the privacy you need,” Chan promised, tossing a glare in the direction of the pack members giving him a hard time.

Minho appeared in the entryway of the den with an apron tied around his torso, “Dinner will be ready in thirty minutes, unless you two morons want to sit there and feed into Chan’s fantasies a little longer. Chan, make sure _____ isn’t late. You know how we get.”

-

The commotion of dinner was exactly what you expected it to be while dining with eight werewolves, and it was something everyone was used to except you. Chan did make sure that you got enough food, which you appreciated. However, you did end up sharing your food with him when you noticed he still seemed hungry. You didn’t know if it was the weird draw to him that fate made you feel or if it was your own accord but either way, you cared and didn’t want him to go to bed still hungry.

Chan made sure you got ready for bed after dinner. Sometimes you couldn’t tell if he was trying to be your mate or your dad but you weren’t entirely complaining because it was nice to have someone take care of you. Back home, you were pretty much on your own ever since your mom died. It was nice feeling cared for again.

“Do you need anything?” he asked from your doorway as he did every night.

“No, I’m good.”

He nodded and flicked off the light, “Goodnight, _____.”

“Goodnight, Chan.”

Chan went to the living room and laid on the couch like he did every night, listening for your breathing to even out so he could fall asleep himself.

-

A few hours later, you sat up with a gasp. Sweat beaded your forehead, and your hands gripped the blankets around you like they were the only thing keeping you grounded after the nightmare you had. Nightmares had become typical for you the last few days, but it didn’t mean they were any less scary. If they weren’t about your dad yelling at you or your family finding out you were a werewolf’s mate and hunting you down to kill you and the entire pack, it was of the day your mother died. It was like the guilt was trying to bombard you every waking moment and every non-waking one.

But this nightmare seemed real when you saw a silhouette standing in your room. You let out a shriek and, since you didn’t have any weapons on you, hid under the blankets instead. Your door flew open, banging against the wall as someone rushed in, and you assumed it was Chan.

“_____?!” his voice panicked, and a growl grew in his chest when he saw someone in your room. However, it changed to confusion when he spoke again. “Eunjin?”

You pulled the covers down just enough to see the faint moonlight hit the face of a girl you’d never seen before. She had wavy blonde hair, and her skin was pale like porcelain. Her blue eyes were staring off somewhere far away – somewhere that wasn’t physically in front of her.

“What the hell is going on?!” Minho demanded, coming into the room with the rest of the pack behind him. “...Eunjin?”

“Shh,” Chan was quick to hold a finger up to his pack, “don’t wake her up.”

Eunjin stayed frozen in the center of your room, not blinking or moving. You weren’t sure if she was even breathing at this point. Chan slowly moved around her to the open window, the curtains blowing gently in the wind. He poked his head out and looked around before softly calling, “Seungkwan?”

Minho began cowering back, his hands starting to move up toward his ears, “Is she gonna start screaming…?”

Suddenly, all the wolves were clamping their hands down on their ears just to be safe.

“W-why is she here?” Jeongin stammered, eyeing the girl warily.

Chan backed up as he pulled someone in through your window. A man crawled in and let out a sigh as he answered, “I wish I knew. That was a far walk, damnit.”

Then his eyes landed on you and he seemed thoughtful, cocking his head to one side. But then he quickly shifted to a polite but embarrassed smile as he greeted you as sweetly and politely as he could, “Hi, I’m Seungkwan. I'’m Bang Chan's, um...friend. So sorry.”

Seungkwan had heard of you. They were being kept up to date on Chan’s situation thanks to Felix’s close friendship with two members of his pack, but that still didn’t explain why his mate would’ve shown up in the middle of your bedroom. 

Eunjin moved, but you didn’t catch it since it was just her mouth opening.

The wolves did, though, and they immediately braced themselves.

Your eardrums were bombarded by the most piercing shriek you’d ever heard. Your hands flew to your ears, clamping down as hard as you could while also shrugging your shoulders up. Your eyes closed from how loud her scream was, and you couldn’t even open your mouth to ask why she was screaming.

After what felt like an eternity, she stopped. Her scream died out and you slowly unclenched your body and looked up again.

“Jinnie…?” Seungkwan asked as he slowly reached out for his mate.

“What the hell was that?” you asked Chan.

But he didn’t answer you, looking between the strange man that had climbed in through your window, and the girl standing in the middle of your room.

She blinked, and she looked at Seungkwan before she then looked down at you. And her eyes widened slightly, like she recognized you.

“Sweetheart,” Seungkwan sounded relieved to see that his mate was back with them mentally, “what happened?”

“I…don’t know…” she replied slowly in a whisper. Then she turned, seeming to be looking for someone and settling on Chan. “Is that _____?”

He nodded, “Y-yeah. Why?”

Minho’s eyes widened as they locked on you still sitting on Chan’s bed, “She’s gonna fucking kill us.”

“Minho,” Chan scolded him through gritted teeth.

“I’m so sorry about this,” Seungkwan told them, pulling Eunjin closer to him. “We’ll show ourselves out. Again, I’m sorry.”

Eunjin nodded, “Y-yeah, um, s-sorry…”

As Seungkwan began to guide her out, she looked over her shoulder at you one last time while the small pack parted. And once they were gone, eight pairs of golden eyes were locked on you.

“What was that?” you asked again, breaking the silence as you looked to your mate for answers.

Chan took in a deep breath, held it for a few seconds, and then let it out slowly. He didn’t know what to do with this information. He didn’t even know how to interpret it, because Eunjin showing up like that could mean a few different things. He was just hoping it wasn’t any of the most obvious interpretations.

“Okay, uh…” he began before he turned to the doorway. “Everyone back to bed.”

Eyes lingered on you for another moment before the wolves finally began to file out of the room. Chan closed the bedroom door behind them before he turned back to you.

“Care to explain?” you tried again.

He walked over to the bed and sat down at the edge of it. He looked off at the floor for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts before he began talking.

“So…her name is Eunjin.”

“Yeah, I got that much. What the hell is wrong with her?”

“She’s…a banshee,” he admitted, finally meeting your eyes with concern all over his features.

Your heart fell into your butt. Your face fell as you stared back at Chan, wide-eyed.

“Now, I know what you’re thinking,” he said quickly, putting his hands up like he could physically stop you from letting your imagination run wild, “but her scream could mean a handful of things. It might not mean that you…die–” he didn’t even want to say the word, “--it might mean that someone around you does or you cause the death.”

“All of those sound horrible,” you stated.

“She also hears voices on other planes,” he offered. “She might’ve just heard a prominent voice of someone who’s no longer on this plane. She screams to drown out everything else so she can hear better.”

“That–”

You stopped, and Chan’s eyebrows furrowed. When you didn’t continue for a few seconds, he asked, “_____?”

“Mom…” you mumbled.

“What?”

“My mom,” you told him. “She died about 10 years ago, and my family left my home country to come here after it happened.”

He frowned, “I’m sorry to hear that. Can I ask what happened?”

You hesitated, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you debated on telling Chan. Hell, you considered just making something else up. But ultimately, you decided to just tell him. Maybe it would help you figure out…whatever was going on inside your head.

“She…” you trailed off, chickening out again before you cleared your throat and regained your courage. “She was…attacked by…a werewolf…”

It all clicked. Why you were training to become a werewolf hunter but you weren’t quite there. Why you were so against letting the pull take over despite not really being much of a werewolf hunter. The only thing that he didn’t understand was why you weren’t quite a werewolf hunter. If a werewolf killed your mother, wouldn’t that drive you to want to be the best werewolf hunter you could be?

“My dad… Something in him snapped when she died,” you continued even though he wasn’t prompting you to. It was just all coming out of you like a waterfall and you couldn’t stop it. “So he moved me and my brother here and started training us to become werewolf hunters. My brother, Nolan, took to it really well, honestly. He likes it, too. I just–” you paused when you finally realized how much you had said and dropped your head, looking at the blankets. “Yeah…”

“Do you…not…like it?” he wondered slowly.

“Never mind,” you mumbled. “I can deal with it later.”

He seemed to just watch you for a moment, the last sentence weighing on his mind, but he didn’t know if he should say anything. Meanwhile, you were rolling over to get comfortable again and pulling the blanket up.

He wanted to tell you that you didn’t have to go back. He suspected maybe your family wasn’t good to you, and he wanted to tell you to just stay at the house with them and he would protect you from them, but he decided not to push it.

He also wondered what was stopping you from becoming an actual werewolf hunter, but again, it wasn’t his place to pry – especially not right now.

“Well,” he grunted as he stood up from the bed and went to the window to shut it, “are you all good in here now?”

Your head snapped up, “What if she comes back?”

“She won’t,” he chuckled. “Why, are you afraid of Eunjin?”

“She’s a banshee, Chris.”

“She’s really sweet, though,” he promised, still smiling with amusement. “But if it’ll make you feel safer, I don’t mind sleeping in Felix’s bed for the night. Or you can come take the couch downstairs and I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“No, you should sleep in a bed, I think,” you decided, nodding across the room toward the other bed that used to belong to Felix.

“Thanks,” he said with a playful roll of his eyes before he trudged over to the younger wolf’s bed and climbed under the covers. “So, can I ask what originally woke you up?”

“What do you mean?”

“I heard you wake up before you noticed Eunjin,” he explained. “You seemed scared. Was it a nightmare?”

You reluctantly admitted in a mumble, “Yeah…”

“Anything you want to talk about?”

How did you tell him you dreamed your father and brother killed him in front of your eyes without sounding like you were getting too attached to him?

“No,” you continued to mumble. “M’fine.”

The room fell into silence as you stared up into the darkness. Your thoughts were all over the place, but you weren’t sure if you wanted to speak up again or keep things to yourself. You kept getting to the verge of blurting something, only to open your mouth and then close it again instead.

But after a few minutes of laying in silence, you felt the cold sink in again – especially after the window had opened.

“Chris?”

“Hmm?”

“How do you sleep in here?”

“Huh?” 

“It’s always so fucking cold in here at night.”

He chuckled, “We run warm, remember? It takes a lot to make one of us cold. Why, are you cold?”

You turned your head toward him, “It’s cold in here even when the window hasn’t been opened.”

“You want me to sleep with you?” he asked, thankful that the darkness was covering his growing smirk.

You made a face and groaned, “Don’t say it like that.”

But you didn’t say no.

“How do you want me to say it?” he laughed.

“Can you just get over here?” you grumbled as your cheeks burned at the request.

“Yeah, yeah,” he yawned, already climbing out of Felix’s bed and padding across the room to his own. He peeled back the covers and slid in after you scooted over. After a little bit of moving around, you both settled into bed. But since the beds were pretty small, you were right next to him. “Better?”

“Do not ask me questions about this situation,” you stated.

He laughed loudly before saying, “Just know if you take all the blankets, I have the strength to rip them away from you.”

“Yes, Chan, I know you’re the big bad wolf,” you nodded, rolling your eyes. “Just shut up and go to bed.”

He was still giggling anyway as he sang, “Goodnight, _____.”

“Yeah, goodnight.”

»»————-　　————-««

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[yandere-kokeshi]

Hiii!! Hope you’re doing good!! Could I request a poly werewolf 141 x reader who just has bad abandonment issues? Take care of yourself, I love you!!

Warnings: yandere behavior, talks about abandonment, and werewolves.

A/N: Hi!! Yes of course. We love werewolves!! Enjoy and love you too, beloved <3!!

Gif by @/bastardcompany // NOT MINE

It breaks their heart, especially on Gaz's part, that you have this fear. Something, or someone, must've caused it. And it only angers and annoys them. However, they can't help but love this side of you.

It's easier for them to manipulate you, making you stay home, away from outsiders, and stay closer to them. And, with them being already possessive, and the werewolf blood swirling in them, it makes them proud and almost excited that you have a need about being around theme.

All of them, especially on Soap's part, constantly remind you that you're theirs, and they are yours; vice versa. Most of them understand your fears, all of them going through the fear itself one way or another. And quite the contrast, they don't blame you.

Naturally, with having bad abandonment issues, comes with insecurity, ultra clingiest, and paranoia. Most of the time, Price and Gaz are always around you, glued to your side and ensuring that they won't leave you — and never leave you for ‘someone else’

Every day, all of them are constantly wanting to be near you, touching you, holding you, talking to you, smelling you, any way any of them could have you.

In rare scenarios, where they do have to leave (work or having to go somewhere in public where they don't you at), they assure you over and over that they will just be an hour, and come straight back. Making sure to pick something sweet up (a gift) to prove to you that you mean everything.

All of them do meaningful things, especially during the nights where they're the most energetic — Soap bringing you a dead dove, mouth stained in blood and a sign of I love you in his eyes.

Simon and Price both working together on bringing a bunch of roses, flowers, or even a pine-cone from the forest; nudging it closer to your form as you gently reward them.

Gaz naturally gifts you his things — ensuring that you can, and you will wear his shirts, boxers, or even hats if he asks. And if you don't? Well, you wouldn't want to make your mates sad, no?

Masterlist || Please consider reblogging and commenting instead of liking, it helps me as a creator!! Stay well!!

© yandere-kokeshi 2023 — Do not copy, modify, edit, repost, or use my works for ASMR readings, tiktoks, or other content.

[babygorewhore]

Love bites.

Rafe Cameron x fem reader

Part two to bite me!

After you disappear, Rafe finally finds you and decides that he’s going to win this final round, showing you exactly who you belong to. And maybe even return the favor of your little love bites. W. C 2.5K

Warnings! Biting! Non-graphic description of blood! Male masturbation! Oral! Male recieving! Daddy kink! Switch! Rafe! Unprotected sex! Spitting! Slight degrading! Dividers by @xxbimbobunnyxx barely proofread because I’m tired and depressed. I also wanna burn it but I promised I wouldn’t lmao. Anyway. Enjoy!

“So, let me get this straight,” Wheezie drawls as she sips her milkshake, narrowing her eyes on Rafe. “My teacher's assistant, the girl you hooked up with, is a vampire?”

Rafe rolled his eyes and glared. “I told you. You wouldn’t believe me.”

“Yup! You’re right. I don’t. It’s insane.”

“Okay so then how did this happen?” Rafe pointed at the bandage on his neck and Wheezie sighed.

“She’s kinky?”

“Wheezie!” Rafe scolded and she gave him the middle finger and continued drinking from her beverage. He sighed and pinched his nose. She would be the death of him.

But he did sound crazy. Who in the hell would believe he fucked a vampire? He hadn’t seen you in three weeks. It was like you completely disappeared. Even on social media you hadn’t posted anything and he felt like a stalker but he couldn’t stop himself from constantly checking to see if you showed signs of existence.

He couldn’t get you out of his mind. Everything about you was electric and fucking addicting. Better than any drug he’d ever taken.

“Is that why you’re obsessed with vampires and werewolves now?” Rafe didn’t respond and Wheezie snorted.

“Okay, Bella Swan.”

Rafe gritted his teeth but he couldn’t blame her for teasing him. But he was determined to find you again and if it included begging you to be with him then god damn it he would.

Another week passed before he had some luck. A new nightclub opened and the advertising was catered specifically to alternative people. It was expensive and elegant. Just like you. He dug through his wardrobe for anything acceptable and impressive enough to get your attention if you went.

Rafe climbed out of his car after paying a ridiculous amount for parking and peeked at his reflection. It would work. His long legs carried him to the entrance of the club and he paid for his way. As he walked through, he was captivated by the darkness. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling, decorative wallpaper covered the walls on either side and the floor shined. People were dressed in dark clothing with luxurious material and he honestly didn’t feel like he belonged. The music was reminiscent of what you played at his house and he looked around. Searching for your unmistakable beautiful face.

Minutes went by without seeing you and he decided to try and wait. You were stealthy and if you were here, you had already spotted him. He strides to the bar, ordering a shot to spark his energy. What if you went back home? To Salem? What if he was completely wrong?

The music stopped and he naturally glanced around the room and noticed the dance floor was empty. That was until a female stepped up and the lights focused on her.

It was you.

He wanted to immediately stand but your red stained smile and tilted head in his direction left him frozen. His entire body went warm as the song played. Your body began to move slowly, your dark dress clinging to your body and curves. You still wore elegant jewelry only now he noticed you looked tired. You were beautiful. Perfect. But he could see the way your lips were slightly turned down and his stomach tightened with worry.

You extended your hand, pointing your finger at him before curling it in a come here motion, your ring shining and he shot up. He maneuvered through the crowd, including an elbow to a man who wasn’t moving fast enough and Rafe stood in front of you, inhaling your sweet scent.

“Hi, Rafe.” You leaned in and rested a hand on his chest. Rafe’s palms set on your hips and his senses went into overdrive as you fluttered your lashes at him.

“Where did you go, baby doll? Thought you left here. I’ve been looking for you.”

“Awww, did my pretty boy miss me?” You tease as you tug on his sleeve. “You wanna be my little toy tonight?”

Rafe shivered before he gripped your ass, pressing you against him as tightly as possible. “You wanna tell me why you look so tired, princess?”

“You’re such a simp,” You smirked and Rafe furrowed his brows before cupping your face. You felt even colder than usual.

“Tell me. Where have you been?”

“Hmm…I’ve been thirsty. But the drinks here just aren’t as good as they are in Salem.” Your eyes flash with a wicked glint and Rafe’s neck prickles in memory of your sharp teeth puncturing his skin.

“You went back home?”

You nod as you both sway to the rock music, your head tilted up at him and Rafe peered deep into your eyes.They held years of mystery and darkness. He wanted to get lost in them forever. “If you need something to taste, you can always come to me.” He said with a hardened seriousness.

You hold your head to the side and trail your gaze along his face. Rafe leaned down and brushed his lips to your ear. “Come on. Show me how good that mouth is, baby girl.”

You smile and cup the back of his head. Bringing him down, you press kisses to his neck, moving aside his collar and Rafe’s cock hardened as he felt you nip at his shoulder before you settled in the crook of his throat. Two sharp points pricked his flesh and he sighed as his eyes rolled back in his head. Your soft lips slightly open as he felt droplets fall, his head lulled as you drank from him, moaning quietly before you pulled back.

The corners of your lips were glistening and you licked your fangs. “Mmm, daddy. So sweet.”

Rafe went to kiss you but you reached up and paused him. “You didn’t think it would be that easy, did you?”

“You love to fucking torture me, don’t you?” He growled and you laughed.

“You make it so easy. You’re like a little submissive puppy, Rafey. You’ll do anything I say. Won’t you?” Rafe wanted to take you right in the middle of the dance floor but he also didn’t want this to end.

“You’re really cocky,” Rafe decided to change his approach. “Is that all you can do? Drink my blood then run away like a scared little bunny? I thought vampires were scary.”

You grinned with a shrug. “Trying to bait me, huh? Nice move.”

“Oh, I’m just pointing out the obvious. I had you creaming on my cock better than any other fucker and you know it. I know your pussy is dripping right now, I can see the way you're pushing your legs together. Baby girl, try to be more subtle than that.” Rafe cupped your chin and watched you inhale sharply as his fingers brushed the exposed skin of your chest, lingering above your heart. “Now, try and behave yourself. I want you to think about how good it felt being my little greedy slut and how hard I made you cum but you’re not gonna touch yourself. No. You’re gonna wait. For me.”

You tried to catch his lips but he stood back with a wink. “You know where I live, Angel. Be a good girl for me and remember what happens when you’re not.”

It was almost impossible to walk away from you but Rafe was determined to finally meet you at your level and as he walked away, his heart raced with triumph.

He won round three.

Rafe stared at his ceiling three nights later, rubbing his eyes as sleep refused to claim him. He missed you so much it hurt. He knew he was obsessed with you but he couldn’t find it in himself to care about how desperate he looked. He needed you. He needed everything about you. He needed your sweet, tight pussy that made his cock ache just thinking about it.

His hand drifted to his boxers and as much as he wished it was you, his own palm would have to be enough for now. Rafe clutched his dick, precum leaking from the tip as he smeared it with his thumb and fisted it. He jerked it, hard and roughly as he thought about your pretty sounds when he pounded you from the back, panties stuffed in your mouth as your ass bounced. Fuck, he needed that. As his eyes fell shut and his mouth parted as he touched himself, already getting close just from the memory of you.

“Oh? Looks like someone is being a bad boy.”

Rafe stilled at the sound of your voice and sat up quickly. He saw the outline of your body standing by his open window. He could see the glimmer of your jewelry in the dark and he turned on his light on his phone. You were smiling, fangs out and your makeup was applied perfectly. Only you weren’t wearing a dress. You were wearing one of his black t-shirts without any pants underneath, showing off the perfect curve of your thighs.

“I mean come on, Rafe. Is it really fair to say I can’t finger fuck myself when you’re jerking off to the thought of me alone in bed?” You shook your head and clicked your tongue. “That's very bad.”

You slowly walked over to his bed, standing beside it and Rafe breathed heavily as you leaned down, pressing a hand to his heart. “I can hear your heart beating…racing just for me.”

You flipped the covers back, exposing his hardened cock underneath his underwear and he saw you smirk. “Looks like you need some help, daddy.” He inhaled sharply as you crawled on the bed, separating your knees as you lowered yourself down. You pulled down his boxers, spitting on his cock before you lapped at the tip, causing him to lay back and his hand found your hair.

Your tongue traced the sides, hand pumping the middle of his shaft before your lips wrapped around his balls and you sucked. He was going to go crazy as you released it with a pop and returned to his dick, pulling it into your mouth and you sucked.

You moaned as he lightly tapped your cheek and then tightly pulled your hair as you bobbed your head up and down, working him with your tongue at the same time as you hollowed your cheeks and took him deeper down your throat.

“Fucking shit. You’re a dirty little slut,” He huffed as he thrust his hips upward, spilling into your mouth and you moaned. He shakes violently as you continue sucking, messily overstimulating him and he finally manages to reach down. He maneuvered you onto your back, yanking up his shirt up over your head and exposed your black lace set you had on.

“Did you listen to me like a good girl?” He quirked an eyebrow and you rolled your eyes. “Mmm, I’m actually glad you didn’t. Now I have another excuse to put you in your place.”

Rafe tore off your panties, throwing them off the side of the bed and he tugged off your bra. Your tits bounced and he groaned at your hardening nipples. He leaned down, flicking his tongue on the sensitive buds before nipping at them with his teeth. “Let’s feel how fucking wet you are,” he shoves his hand down, not wasting time being gentle and swiped his fingers along your dripping core.

He shoved them into your mouth, your lips wrapped around his digits and he growled. “Taste that? That’s for me. All me. You belong to me, princess.” He smacks your ass before he slides his cock along your slit, “I’m gonna fuck you and then lick it clean.” He promises before pushing in, his dick hardening inside your tight pussy.

He holds down your wrists, “you don’t get to touch me, baby girl. You gotta learn somehow,” he breathes as you roll your hips, sucking him deeper and your eyes roll back as he moves.

Your cunt squelches as he pounds into you, the bed jerking from his strength and your legs wrap around his waist. “Daddy,” you whine and try to pull your hands loose but he shakes his head.

“Yeah? Your cunt belongs to daddy. Say it. Beg for me to make you cum and maybe I’ll let you touch me.” He licks up your neck to meet your mouth in a bruising kiss before he pulls back.

“Mmm, please! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry! I’ll be good for you, I’ll be so good for you,” You choke but he shakes his head.

“Nah, I don’t fucking think so.” He pulls your lower lip between his teeth and you open your mouth, sticking your tongue out slightly.

He takes the invitation and spits inside, watching you swallow it before you shriek as your orgasm hits you. He feels your cum around his dick and he slams into you one more time before his own peak hits him. Ropes of his cum gush into you, leaking out and he buries his head in your neck.

“Bite me,” you whisper. “Want you to mark me,”

Rafe sinks his teeth into your skin and tastes slight copper as you moan loudly. He finally lets you go, allowing you to wrap your arms around his neck. “Does this mean I’ll be like you?” He chuckles and then makes his way down your body, separating your sticky thighs.

“It’s not that simple,” you respond before you sigh with pleasure as he drags his tongue along your pussy, licking up your cum with a small amount of blood in his mouth.

“Taste so good, baby girl. So you’re so sweet,” He mumbles against your clit before circling around the center, making your thighs close around his head. “Could stay down here forever,”

“Kiss me, Rafe.” He feels you pull him up by his hair and he meets your lips, mixing your tastes together.

“Don’t leave me again,” He asks between harsh kisses. “Stay. I’ll do whatever you need me to.”

You both stayed there for minutes, breathing in each other and he couldn’t get enough. “Will you be here when I wake up?” He asks, coming to a stop as he hovers above you.

“I’ll be here. I promise.” You cup his cheek, slightly stroking it and he leans into the touch. “You’re such a little simp,” you repeat from earlier and he shrugs.

“I have a thing for vampires.”

He laid on his back, pulling you to his chest and you listened to his heartbeat. “One of these days you’re gonna have to show me everything you can do.”

“Yeah? You wanna hear all my stories?” You tease in the dark and he nods.

“All of them, baby. Then maybe you’ll tell me how old you are.”

You pinch his side and he laughs. “Promise me again. You’ll stay?”

“I promise.”

His eyes drifted shut after you both fell into silence. He woke up to his alarm and smiled when he looked down. You were still in his arms.

Tagging @xxbimbobunnyxx @marchsfreakshow @slvt4jamesmarch @drewstarkeyslut @rafescurtainbangz @emsgoodthinkin @drudyslut @oceandriveab @rafesthroatbaby @theoraekenslover @redhead1180 @gri959 @voyeurmunson

[remus-poopin]

The “A very frosty Christmas” chapter in HBP is so interesting to me in terms of understanding Lupin’s relation to the werewolf community. The standout line to me is this:

“‘I am not complaining; it is necessary work and who can do it better than I? However, it has been difficult gaining their trust. I bear the unmistakable signs of having tried to live among wizards, you see, whereas they have shunned normal society and live on the margins, stealing — and sometimes killing — to eat.’” (HBP, 334)

The framing of this is interesting, he didn’t say: “wizards have shunned them from normal society therefore marginalizing them so they have to steal and sometimes kill to eat”, no he puts the werewolves in the active role as if they are making a sort of choice. It effectively takes the blame off of the wizards that oppress them.

I think he might feel that it is a choice they are making. He has tried very hard all his life to fit into wizarding society. Everything he does is in an attempt to appear non threatening. He has made a choice to not live in the werewolf colonies, he’s made a choice to hold jobs, he’s made a choice to socialize with other wizards, he’s made a choice to appear civilized, he’s made a choice to conform into wizard society-

yet he is still not accepted.

The issue is not the werewolves disregarding society but a society that fundamentally disregards their humanity.

On some level he must know this yet the way he speaks about his community is dripping with a sort of self loathing that pushes for a drive for assimilation (something you can find in most groups of marginalized people).

He holds these views of achieving social mobility through the appearance of civilization while being walking proof that werewolf assimilation is futile, so he has to construct mental barriers to avoid being crushed under the weight of his own hypocrisy.

[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

[blondwhxrewrites]

"So you're telling me werewolves, vampires, ghosts—all of that stuff is real?" 

Stiles stopped his pacing to turn and look at you. He sighed and nodded. "Yep, and oh, and I'm like ninety percent sure Lydia is a banshee." He raked a hand through his hair, looking down at you with an awkward smile. 

You gaped at him, eyes wide. "Stiles, what the fuck? When did this happen? Why didn't you tell me?"

He frowned and raised his hands up in defense. "Woah—hey! Scott was the one who wanted to keep you out of this, so blame his furry little ass and not me!" 

You got up, walked towards him, and lightly slapped his chest. You couldn't believe the audacity of your two best friends keeping such a big thing from you. "And you just went along with it!" you exclaimed, glaring at him. 

He flinched away from you. He quickly slapped your hand away from him. Okay, you had a point there. He scratched the back of his head, trying to come up with some sort of defense. 

"I thought it was a good idea at that time," Stiles mumbled after a few moments of silence. 

"You have made it very clear that none of your ideas are good," you scoffed, rolling your eyes. You turned around, walked back to your bed, and sat down. "Come on, I need a full explanation of everything that has happened that I've missed." 

"Do I really need to explain everything?"

"Yes!"

"Jesus Christ, woman, okay!" 

[jasmines-library]

Could you please do a Winchester sister fic where her and the boys go on a hunt and something goes wrong and the sister gets hurt and tries to hide it because the boys are too busy blaming each other and fighting about the hunt going wrong until the sister like loses too much blood and like passes out or something

Dilemma

Summary: When you and your brothers get caught of guard during a werewolf hunt, they are quick to try and blame each other. But little do they know that their bickering might cost you your life.

Warnings: Fighting, Injuries, Hospitals

Word count: 2.1K

⛤ SUPERNATURAL MASTERLIST ⛤

“Why does it always have to be werewolves?” You groaned from the backseat, leaning your head up against the cool window. You and your brothers were on your way to a hunt just a few towns over from where you had been staying: A pack of particularly disruptive werewolves had been disrupting the town. 

“It’s not.” Sam shrugged, “We took out that banshee last week. and the poltergeist the week before that-”

“Don’t be pedantic, Sam. You know what I mean.” You pouted. 

“Look Sweetheart, I know you don’t like them but everything will be fine. This is a routine hunt and it’ll be over before you know it.”

You had always hated werewolves. Ever since you were you. The majority of them were cruel and tricky to catch, but over all just more of a pain in your ass than anything. 

“Sure.” You mumbled leaning back into your seat. “Whatever you say, Deano.”

~

The minute the impala rounded the corner they were on you. Swarming in from every corner of the space, weaving between the trees with their teeth bared and a cantankerous look plastered on their faces. You heard your eldest brother curse, reaching into the glove box and pulling out the gun loaded with silver bullets. Your fingers reached blindly for your silver knife stashed away in the side pocket of the door, as you continued to watch them swarm still not blinking. Like maybe if you focused on them hard enough they would disappear. Poof. Gone. 

Of course it’s never that simple, is it?

Dean’s fingers lingered on the door handle but before he tugged it to open the door, his green eyes met yours. One look said a million more things than words ever could. Be careful. Please. He pleaded with unspoken words. You gave him a nod of reassurance and that was all it took for him to turn and charge out of the car towards them.

They came toward you snarling. Thirsty for bloodshed. 

You charged forward, engaging yourself in a tussle with the nearest one. She bared her teeth, scowling as you charged at her with your knife. When you swung she jumped back so your blade missed her completely. Cursing, you moved around her quickly as she moved to attack. She went low trying to catch you off guard but your trained eye noticed this and you stepped out of the way. When her back was to you, you slashed down firmly with the weapon. The werewolf howled in pain struggling on the floor as the silver burned her skin before her body gave out and she lay dead on the ground. One down, who knows how many more to go. 

But it was like something had been set off the minute you killed that first wolf. Head’s snapped toward you, eyes twitching and two of them made a beeline for you. 

Gunshots fired and one of them went down before she had even managed to take more than three steps in your direction. Dean’s pistol simmered with heat as he moved to aim the trigger at the second but quickly had a change of plan when he was tackled to the side landing with an uncomfortable sounding grunt. The two of them scuffled on the ground as Sam tussled with two of his own.

The wolf that was racing toward you was bigger than you. Much Much bigger. And stronger, given his wolfish strength. The thought made your stomach drop a little. But you had handled worse. 

He swung at you with his claws which you managed to duck under. As you moved, you managed to nick his calf with your blade. Not enough to really do any damage, but enough to piss him off even more. He turned impossibly fast, knocking you to the ground. You groaned as you collided with the gravel but scrambled to get back on your feet and then ran, trying to create some distance between the two of you until you either found a way to get the upper hand or one of your brothers noticed. But the werewolf was much faster, and so it had been a stupid idea in the first place. He gripped the back of your shirt, jolting you back before slamming you into a tree. Your knife dropped to the floor and you had to bite your lip to keep the whimper slipping from your lips as you heard your ribs crack from the blunt force. 

And then his face was uncomfortably close to yours. So much so that you could feel his hot breath fanning across your neck. 

“You killed her.” He spat, pinning you closer to the tree and letting the bark dig into your back. Droplets of blood began to seep into your shirt from where his nails dug into your skin as he pinned you into place. 

“Yeah. And you’re next.” You lifted your leg to knee him in the groin. He recoiled and you scrambled for your knife in vain for he knocked you to the ground with another kick to your already injured ribs. You went down with a cry and he moved to pin your wrist to the ground before kicking the knife away and tossing you back up against the tree. 

“I thought you would be better than this, Winchester.” The werewolf taunted “An infamous Winchester taken down pack of wolves.”

Then he slashed at you: Long, irregular stripes down your stomach tore open as he dug his claws into your skin. 

“Funny really. Almost poetic.”  He leaned closer, keeping you pinned as he loomed over you. His hands had found your waist making you squirm as he pushed his fingers into the wounds he had created. An agonised sob slipped out. “But I suppose it’s only fair. You kill my sister…so I kill you. Oh how I can’t wait to see the look on Sam’s-”

He never got to finish his sentence because he had dropped to the floor dead. Sam stood behind him with his pistol ready and a worried look on his face. That was when you noticed that the rest of the creatures had been disposed of by your brothers. 

“Jesus Christ, Kid. That was close.” Dean breathed out. “You need to be more careful.”

He was angry. You could tell from the way he stood; jaw clenched, shoulders a little too high to look natural. 

“You’re okay though?” He asked, checking you over visually for injuries.

You opened your mouth to speak but were cut off by your other brother. 

“ What the hell was that?” Sam frowned, drawing Dean’s piercing gaze away from you and  distracting him enough that he didn’t notice how you favoured one side.

“I’m sorry?” Dean’s eyebrows shot up and he stopped in his tracks, twisting toward his brother.

“You didn’t think to park somewhere less obvious?”

“We’re in the middle of nowhere, Sam.” Dean’s voice rose as he began to walk back to the car.

“Exactly. And they still knew we were coming.”

“And how is that my fault?” He scoffed. 

You had fallen behind. Their voices began to fade in and out as your head pounded, throbbing in sync with the gashes in your skin, still gushing with blood that stained your flannel. You pulled it closer, stumbling. Though soon it would do little to conceal what should have been so obvious to your brothers. 

“Dean…” Your vision swam and you lost your footing slightly. But your call went unheard. 

“Clearly they heard the car. If you were less obsessive over the damn thing and had just left it on the side of the road then they would never have known.” Sam spat. “Honestly Dean, It’s careless. An attack like that… Y/N could have gotten seriously hurt.”

“Oh so it’s all my fault?” Dean threw his hands up in the air as he snapped at his brother. “If you had done the research like you were supposed to then-”

“You always do this, Dean. You can’t always pin the blame on me. It wouldn’t hurt for you to help out once in a while instead of sleezing around in some bar-”

“Sammy…” You whispered, trying again to desperately gain one of their attention.

You felt sick. Weak. staggering slowly behind them. 

And then, you hit the floor. 

Your legs gave out beneath you and you crumpled to the ground in a heap of agony clutching at your stomach. 

“Y/N?!” Dean cried out your name at the sound, whipping around. His eyes widened in horror at the sight as he dropped to your side. Wrapping his arm over you, he rolled you onto your side to examine what he had failed to see before.

Sam paled at your bloody hands, gawping as crimson flowed around what little pressure you applied. 

You whimpered as Dean pushed up your shirt to reveal the mangled cuts. Sam sucked in a sharp breath as he blinked away tears. 

“S’rry.” You slurred eyes barely open as your head lolled on the ground. “Tried to… tried to t’ll you…”

“Shh.” Sam’s voice trembled. He gripped your hand to try and ground you not caring for the way your blood tainted his skin. “It’s okay. You’re gonna be just fine.”

“Mmh-” you cried out as Dean applied pressure to the wound with his bundled up flannel. The cold air pinched at his skin. He cared little for it. They needed to get you to the car. It wasn’t far at all; he could see the bonnet shining in the moonlight. But the thought of moving you made his stomach weak. 

“We need to move her.” Sam voiced. 

“I know.” Dean swallowed thickly. He took a deep breath. “Okay. Sweetheart, we need to move you okay it’s going to hurt but you need to stay awake, okay? You’ve already lost too much blood.”

You made no response except an incoherent murmur. You skin was paler than usual and your lips had began to turn a concerning shade of blue. But the cold was worse. 

“Okay. On three Sammy. You lift.” 

Sam nodded. 

“One…Two…Three-”

Sam lifted you swiftly, expecting you to howl in pain. But your body didn’t so much as twitch. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you passed out.

~

“I’m sorry, Sam.” 

The two of them sat waiting anxiously at your side. They had rushed you into the hospital, alarming the nurses as they demanded you get help. 

The youngest Winchester bounced his leg. “She’s going to be fine.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Sam shifted his gaze ever so slightly, afraid to tear his eyes away from you for too long. 

“I shouldn’t have yelled. It wasn’t your fault.”

Sam nodded gently. “It’s not yours either, Dean. So don’t go getting that in your head.”

“But it is-”

“Stop. We’re not talking about this now. I can’t.” He returned to watching over you cautiously. 

The two of them fell into a pregnant silence. 

“The doctors said she should be awake soon.” Dean tried to lighten the mood, but somehow it made it feel darker. 

“I know.”

“You think she’ll be mad?”

“Who, Y/n?” Sam tilted his head. Dean nodded. “Nah. She’s too forgiving.”

“Yeah. Wonder who she gets that from.” Dean teased playfully. Sam just rolled his eyes and continued to rub circles into your hand. 

And then you stirred, scrunching your face up. When you tried to shift, your eyes shot open as pain joleted through you despite the drugs the hospital had dosed you up with. 

“Hey, Hey.” Sam cooed.  “You’re alright. It’s okay.”

“De? Sammy?” You blinked. 

“Yeah Sweetheart. It’s us.”

“You’re in the hospital.” Sam added. “They fixed you up.” You nodded slowly, noting the bags under their eyes and the extra stubble. “Are you okay?”

Dean could have laughed. “You’re in the hospital and the first thing you ask is if we’re okay?”

You fell silent, shrugging, which caused your ribs to pull, earning a wince. 

“What are we gonna do with you huh, Kiddo?” Dean chuckled. “You’re too good for this world.”

“Well then, it’s a good thing she’s gonna be around for a long while longer.”

⛤ SPN TAGLIST:

@defnotashleyr

@aestheticdaisies

@xxrougefangxx

@hell-o-kittys

@inlovewhithafairytale

@harleycao

[kitthenameless]

I made this other post about the Emperor and Ansur once, but I had more things I wanted to say and couldn't quite fit in without muddying my point.

This is perhaps a bit of a reach, but this is not the first time I've found a portrayal of turning into a monster that I relate to as a chronically ill / disabled person who became ill later in life. It has nothing to do with feeling monstrous (I don't feel monstrous) or even body horror, and everything to do with how disabled people are treated by society and even those closest to us.

Obviously disabled people don't go around eating brains. We are not dangerous any more than abled people are. But becoming a mindflayer (or whatever monster) is comparable in the sense that, it can happen suddenly, and then your whole life is different, your body is not what it used to be (maybe visually, maybe the way it works or doesn't work now), and you need certain accommodations in order to thrive or even just survive. But people treat you differently now, you're not really given any help, and truthfully a lot of people would rather you just be dead. You're abandoned by society to figure out your new life and all its difficulties on your own. If you're lucky, you have some people who care enough to help you. If you're not lucky, you do the best you can in your desperation.

And that's why it feels so messed up to me that Ansur just gave up on Balduran/Emperor once he couldn't cure him. He clearly believes this is still Balduran, as shown by how he speaks to him when you meet him. So in his mind, he wasn't even trying to kill some creature that just had Balduran's memories. He was trying to kill Balduran. Who forcibly underwent a change to his body and accepted it and decided he still wanted a chance at living.

Edit to add: I'm pretty sure the Emperor even says it wasn't easy at first, so he didn't immediately embrace being a mindflayer. He came to accept it with some time, and that feels even more significant to me.

Like I said, I know becoming a mindflayer is not exactly the same as becoming disabled because mindflayers are dangerous. But also like I said, in my other post, the game shows us there are options to living ethically as a mindflayer. It's just that no one even helped the Emperor try to find them. And even so, he did his best on his own by eating criminals (which there is proof of, in a transcript).

I don't even blame him for disguising himself to the player at first. Look at how society treats freed mindflayers. Look at how the Emperor's own best friend and lover treated him. It makes perfect sense to assume we would hurt him or refuse to help him too.

Some people are so quick to forgive the companions for all the messed up things they've done because they have trauma. The Emperor has been through shit too though. He wouldn't admit to having trauma, but he was kidnapped, had his body forcibly changed, had his mind enslaved, had his lover try to kill him, had to kill his lover in self-defense, and was enslaved a second time. Sounds pretty traumatic to me.

Anyway. It's probably random to end this by talking about books, but that's what I do (literally, I also have a book blog), so. The other stories I also related to in this way were Dead Collections by Isaac Fellman (vampires) and Bored Gay Werewolf by Tony Santorella (werewolves). Maybe look 'em up, if you like that sorta thing.