#male werebear

[monstersandmaw]

Holy moly, folks, this one was supposed to be a 3k word story, ready to post in the middle of the month, and (a bit like the last one which was 12k) it morphed into nearly 15k of feels and fun... oof. Thank you so much to those who reassured me on Discord that it was ok to take a few extra days to make sure it was something I was happy to post. I hope you enjoy Celann the grumpy werebear...

Let me also just briefly take this opportunity to thank you for returning to Patreon to support me and for joining up since I relaunched in October. It means the world to me that you value and enjoy my writing enough to pay to have access to it once a month. Really, I cannot tell you what it means to me for you to give me this income and independence. I tear up just trying to explain it, even in words.

Anyway, apologies for the delay! I wish you a very merry festive season, and hopefully there'll be another little Christmas bonus for you too, as per the poll from a while ago. May 2024 bring you every happiness and blessing, folks. And here's to many more stories and characters to share and enjoy.

Content: gender and body neutral reader who is a healer/surgeon, a thinly-disguised Roman Empire/Iron Age Britain setting, a secondary character is seriously injured (no super-gory descriptions, only a brief catalogue of her injuries), a big, gruff and reserved loner werebear, brief brush with hypothermia from the reader, some good old 'cuddling for warmth', and some penetrative sex later on too.

Wordcount: a whopping 14,585!

Castle Rise Outpost, in the extreme, northernmost reaches of the Republic’s ever-expanding territories, was hardly the most illustrious or auspicious posting you could have hoped for.

As you and your tired horse plodded along the sandy track over the region’s high, wind-blasted heath, your heart ached for every last mile that stretched between there and your warmer homeland. It all seemed so far behind you now, but this was a new start and a new adventure as the surgeon and healer attached to one of the Republic’s vast network of military outposts, and you were determined to make a good life of it.

Gods though, this place really was desolate.

On your right, away to the east where the light was fast fading, a dense forest of gnarled and mossy oak trees looked as though it was spilling down from the rolling hills and tumbling inexorably down into the valley in a wild, green tangle, and below the treeline, a fast-flowing river cut through the landscape in a dark and sinuous ribbon. The water was rich with tannins from the falling leaves in the forest, and as the ebbing light caught it, you thought ominously of the colour of blood. Behind the forest, as the afternoon darkened towards the deeper hue of an early autumn evening, the far off shape of the snow-capped Highlands lurked on the horizon; their shape now black and foreboding as the stage background of a mummer’s drama.

The commiserations of your fellow graduates from the medical academy in the capital now rang in your ears as the wind picked up and you tugged the thick, woollen cloak further up around your neck to keep the damned weather out. The chestnut mare, your only constant companion for the hundred or so miles since the last major city, tossed her head and trudged on with her long, damp forelock dangling into her eyes and obscuring the white, asymmetrical blaze that dribbled down her ginger face towards her nose. She seemed half asleep on her feet, and you weren’t far off that yourself either.

A flock of rooks erupted out of a patch of dark elm and tall sycamore in the valley below on your right, tugging your mind back to the present. Your gaze tracked them as they sailed away like flakes of dark ash on the wind. Both you and the rangy mare shifted nervously, and you couldn’t help but remind yourself that the locals weren’t always friendly to the Republic’s advances further and further north. Stories of skirmishes and wild tales of shapeshifters and sacrificial magic swirled through the ranks of soldiers, but they were largely dismissed by those who had lived a comfortable life in the Republic’s neatly-planned towns and cities, with their hot bath complexes, intricate mosaics, and heated floors.

“Not long now, Copper,” you said, petting the horse’s mud-encrusted neck as much for your own reassurance as for hers. You’d named her for the vibrant colour of her coat, reminiscent too of beech leaves at the height of the season, but you’d been made to feel foolishly sentimental for giving such an ordinary horse a name like ‘Copper’ by the progressively rougher soldiers at the staging posts on the journey north.

The mare didn’t even flick her ear in your direction at the sound of your voice, and you sighed and pushed yourself back up into a better position in the saddle, shifting uncomfortably as your bruised seat-bones protested yet another day of riding. How the Messenger Corps managed, living almost their entire life in the saddle, you had no idea.

The fort itself came into view on the next rise in the road, and Copper’s ears finally pricked up at the break in the relative monotony of heather and sand and occasional rowan tree. Your own attention was caught, however, by the fact that ‘Castle Rise’ outpost was not, in fact, a castle at all. From that distance, it looked like little more than a grubby wooden palisade with a watch tower over the gateway, and a ditch running around it. Torches bobbed along the walls at regular intervals though, marking the sentries’ routes within, and when you reached the gate and drew rein, a woman’s rough alto yelled down at you.

“Announce yourself!”

You did, adding, “Healer and surgeon assigned to the outpost, until relieved of my duties by a replacement next year.”

“If you even survive up here that long!” she crowed back at you.

Read the whole thing now over on Patreon! For $3 you can have access to all my previous (pre-2023) stories, and for $5 you can have access to all that, plus all the new monthly exclusives.

[writeshite]

Druid!Reader: *riding Halsin like there's no tomorrow* "I mean...ah...it's probably a coincidence, right? No...no way we caused the Grove to flourish just by...by...sweet Silvanus HALSIN--!"

Halsin: *flipping Druid over and ploughing him from behind* "Yes...yes...! Pure...coincidence....!" *roar*

Silvanus: *nods approvingly and commissions another garden*

Sometimes Silvanus commands you delight in the pleasures of the flesh, and who are we to question him.

[fanficsbyme-causeimgay]

Imagine, if you will, you have been hiking. Regardless of your disability that gave you problems walking, hiking was an activity you loved doing.

Sadly, one day, that disability does not help.

You trip and fumble, rolling down a hill. Thankfully, you haven't broken anything, but you have lost your backpack that had the means to contact others to help you. Your phone broke, but even if it hadn't broken, you wouldn't have any signal.

Lying there in pain because of the many injuries you've sustained - as minor as they might be, they're still painful - you just see a shadow looming above you.

When you wake up next, you're in a cabin in the middle of the woods. The owner and sole person living in it is what can only be described as a lumberjack. Big man with thick arms and even thicker and strong voice that was a lot gentler than you'd expect from a man of his size. He helped you, he took you from where you were and brought you to his home - Here you have been for three days until now. He lives away from proper civilization, and although he has an emergency kit, he doesn't really use it, and some things have expired already. He can't exactly leave you here because it would take him days to get to the closest town, and you can't possible be by yourself for so long in the state you're in!

So he stayed.

As he lives alone and you're taking his only bed, he sleeps on the ground. At first, you felt really guilty about it - it is his house, so he should sleep on the bed! - but he keeps insisting that this wasn't the first time he slept on the ground and probably won't be the last. Still, you insist that at least you share, right? But it is awkward to share the bed with a stranger. So, why not become friends? That way the awkwardness will fade away... right?

You learn a few things about him. Very important things indeed.

He loves star fruits. His favorite color is green. He is an avid reader of what he explained to you to be scientific texts about soil and rocks (he went on and on about the differences between various types of rocks). He has taken to the art of woodcarving. And he also loves bears! He has made various small hand sized little bear statues that he has all around his house.

Talking about his house, although you have been mostly confined to the bedroom, you have seen a bit of it, mainly the kitchen. After a week of living together, you can finally move your body without too much pain or strain on your muscles, but walking still eludes you, cane or no cane. It is too painful. Maybe you tore something? Regardless, he sets you down on a chair he most likely makes himself and talks about whatever he wants as he makes dinner, and he is a good cook! He lives alone, so he has to be... Or make food good enough to eat.

He loves soups, too. "They're easy to make, hut hard to truly master." Is what he said when you asked about it... and it kinda makes sense.

One week turns into two, and you're starting to move around a little more, and that's when he takes you outside. It was cold, very cold, and that is when you find out he lives on top of a mountain. Without windows in his house ("I don't like them for... personal reasons."), you didn't really know you were higher up, but it was a beautiful, beautiful place... Miles and miles of forest as far as the eyes could see - and you could see your original trail too. It was two or so miles away and a steep drop down, too.

He sat you down by the porch and you two just watched the horizon as the sun set down before going back inside... it felt weirdly romantic.

Maybe that was when things started.

You began to help him with cooking - just small things. "Let me cut the potatoes for you." Oh yeah, he grew them and a bunch of other things too. He likes gardening, too... "Let me help you with that!" Or a good ol' "You look like you need some help."

And soft touches when reaching out for the same thing became more natural. Touches become more natural. Sleeping on the same bed becomes natural. Cuddling becomes more natural. And that was when you noticed it - He was gruff with it. He just told you: "I turn into a big bear sometimes." Like was the most common and perfectly normal thing for a big guy like him to do!

"Uhm, like, regularly?"

"Whenever I want to."

"...can I see that?"

And he shows you. He is big. He is brown. He is fluffy.

Secrelty, he is also extremely happy that you didn't freak out and tried to run away. He is even happier when you literally cuddle the fuck out od him.

But time, as always, moves on.

You were well enough to return to civilization. And he knew that, so he told you that the next morning, he would bring you to the nearest town. As a last farewell, he made a campfire, and you both sat together and watched as thunder rumbled above your heads. The dark clouds rolling in as rain would soon fall - and that is when he pulls out a simple guitar.

"...can I sing you something?" He asks, nervous. "I don't make any promises about the quality. It will probably suck."

"I would love to hear it." You say.

And he sings -

And when he finishes, you can't help it.

You don't wanna leave.

That night, you both did kiss, like real people do.

[queenquinzel715]

Pt 2 18+

Pt 2.

Werebear Toric 18+

Y/n P.O.V

      I finally have the mate bond everyone was telling me about. It's only been three days since the ball, and I've been completely different. Toric has taken over the political side of my kingdom, so I could worry about my people. I've even helped in the woman's home. I make sure they get everything they need to start for themselves.

       Tonight is a full moon, and since I have goddess blood I must shift on the first full moon. I walk into Toric's office with a basket of honey biscuits I made this morning. He's told me that he'll eat anything with honey. His head snaps up as I walk in, I giggle to myself when I see him sniffing the air.

"What's you got there, honey bee?" He looks at the basket as I slightly swing it.

"Honey biscuits." I put the basket in front of him. "I actually have something to tell you."

      He stops mid bite to beckon me to his side of the desk. Once I'm there he pulls me to his thick thigh, giving me his full attention.

"As you know I have goddess blood, so that means on every full moon I must shift. It's only the first night though." I fidget as I talk to him.

     He grips my hip in his one large hands to stop my movements. I rest my hand on his wrist while I look up at him.

"We'll go into the woods if you need to just stop moving like that." He growls in his chest.

"That's not all Toric." I look down timidly. "My heat also starts the next morning."

     His body completely shakes as he growls, holding in a tight grip. He sits me on the desk, so he quickly gets a hold of himself. He gives me a quick kiss as he stands.

"Okay we'll shift at sunset, and then when you shift back to this gorgeous form we will come back to our chambers. Now it's your decision if I lock you inside alone or with me, and we mate fully." He looks me in the eyes as he gives me his plan.

"I want my mate with me." I move my hands along his chest before I lean my body into him.

       I'm moved back to his lap as we enjoy the biscuits. Me feeding him a piece made us start kissing, getting completely lost, but not for long, he had a lot of work to do if he was to spend a week with me without any interruptions. I give him a kiss on the cheek before I leave for the kitchen.

As I'm putting the food platters on the table at the foot of our bed when I noticed the sun was setting. I quickly grabbed the bag I put together that had a blanket, a couple of Torics shirts, and I almost ran out the door. However I'm blocked by my mate with a very amused face as he practically catches me.

"I take it you're ready Honeybee." He laughs as he smooths his hands down my arms.

"I was making sure everything was prepared for this week, and I lost track of time." I grumble at him. "But I am ready." I hold up the bag with a proud smile on my face.

"What do you got there?" He eyes the bag as it moves in the air.

"A blanket and two of your shirts. I thought it would be easier for me than a whole gown. Is that okay if I use one?" I smile when he pulls me close to him.

"Oh Honeybee, you wearing my clothes is something else that makes me grateful for your heat." His deep voice makes me lean against him.

       We began our walk to the woods, and I could sense Toric getting nervous even though his face is still plain. We get to our spot on the far left side of the border. When everyone was told I shift over here they don't come over here out of respect. Toric places the blanket down once we stop, and he helps me sit down. He however stays standing, causing me to look at him in confusion.

"Why won't you sit Toric?" I raise my hand to him.

"Because I have to be honest with you Honeybee." He lightly holds my hand. "When we shift I will not be a wolf. My mother had me before she found her true mate, and then had my brother." He looks so vulnerable. "I'm going to shift first so you know I won't hurt you."

      I began to say his name, but he stopped me. He steps behind a tree, and it's not long before I hear him shift. I hear the leaves crunching as he walks around. I gasp as a grizzly bear walks toward me with clothes in his mouth. I gently take the clothes, and place them on my lap. I'm completely amazed that my mate is a big bear. I run my hand up his snout to the top of his head, but when I move over to one of his ears I giggle. When I start to scratch them he leans his heavy head into my chest. I keep scratching for just a moment before I start to feel cramping in my lower stomach and back.

"Toric." I whimper. "I have to shift."

      I quickly step behind the tree and quickly throw my dress down. I still wasn't quick enough because when I shift my dress rips from it getting stuck on my head. I hold the dress in my mouth as I growl in frustration. I walk out dropping my dress on the blanket swatting at it with my paw. Toric gives me a soft roar before nudging my neck with his nose. I just lean my head into his neck and rub my head into his scent glands. He lets me keep rubbing my body to him until I'm completely sitting in front of him.

      Toric holds his big arms around me as he lays us down with his body curled around mine. I'm brought out of my peace when the scent of a deer. I'm rising up to go hunt it when I'm pushed back down with a grunt. Toric licks my nose before leaving me to go hunt. I give him a quick yap of excitement just as he walks through the bushes. My mate is hunting for me. I roll on my back, kicking my legs, yapping for my mate to hurry. I'm so wrapped up in my own head I didn't realize my mate was watching me act like a complete pup. Him nuzzling his face into my stomach made me jump. His eyes held amusement as he turned his head to the dead deer on the ground.

      After eating we lay back down. I fall asleep from the warmth of his fur, and when I wake I'm human. His deep snores tell me he's still sleeping, so I slowly reach the bag. I'm putting his shirt on as I hear him shift back to human, and wrap his arm around my stomach.

"How was your shift Honeybee?" His breath hits my shoulder as he leans closer grabbing his clothes.

"Great. I had great meat, and didn't need the blanket." I giggle.

"Speaking of meat. Please tell me what had you rolling and kicking around." He chuckles when I turn away from him. "Oh come on now."

I move my face back to him with a sigh. "I was happy I have a mate that hunts for me. I was just going to do it, because I'm used to doing it myself." I laugh.

"(Y/n) you are my mate, and you are meant to be a Queen." He grabs the bag, pulling the blanket out. "Which means…." He wraps me up in the blanket before lifting up like a bride. "You don't do anything, but get taken care of while I get you whatever it is you want." He carries me back to the castle.

      We have just walked into the kitchen when I feel a wave of heat causing me to whimper and grip Toric's chest. He then quickly gets us to our chambers, lightly laying me on the bed, and locking the doors. I'm whimpering as he walks back to me. When I can finally look at him I realize he hasn't had a shirt on this whole time, and just the thought of me touching him makes me whimper at him.

"You ready Honeybee?" He moves a hand up my leg.

      I don't respond, just move to my knees and lift my ass into the air. I need him now, and hearing the growl he releases lets me know he feels just like me. He moves his hands over my ass to my hips as I lean further to the bed. My chest is against the blanket when I hear him tear something, and it takes me seconds to figure out it was his pants. I'm beginning to pant when I feel him rub at my opening.

"Toric, please." I whine desperately.

"I got you, little mate. Just take it slowly." His voice goes deep as he slides inside me.

        He gets stopped at the barrier, but he just wraps his big arms around me giving me a kiss to the shoulder as he breaks through. I gasp loudly, gripping his arm while he keeps going until his hips are connected to mine. He doesn't move his arm, he just moves my hair to hold in his other hand as he kisses along my shoulders. My head leans back to his shoulder feeling my body relax under his, and he took this as a sign to move.

"Honeybee, you feel so good." He groans as he begins to move.

      I move my hips back to meet his every thrust, but I know it won't last long. I feel his grip on my hair tighten when I move my hips up and down. I smirk to myself when he growls in my back as he stands up, and begins to pull my head back. I moan out from him grinding into me, and the pain from my hair getting pulled.

"Mine." He growls into the air.

      He gives my hip a forceful push down, and just rams into me roughly, holding for a second.

"Toric please." I whine out while I try to move with him.

"What little mate? Tell me what you need." He mocks me.

"I need you." I move my hand back to try to grab him somehow.

"You need me or do you need…." He does finish, he just begins to ram faster this time.

"Yes." I scream out as my nails dig into the blanket.

      I feel my body lock up, my legs shake against his thighs, and my eyes squeeze shut. He pulls me up to his chest, his hand moves to my jaw, moving my face toward his, so he can kiss me deeply. His other hand moves up to play with my breast as he keeps pounding away at me hitting the same spot over and over again. He growls when I start locking up again, but doesn't let up he even goes faster.

"Let go Honeybee." His hand falls down to go back around my stomach holding me tighter.

       My head lazily falls back with a body crushing moan as I scratch his arm. I move my hips in circles to chase my release only for it to make us fall to bed with him covering me, and releasing deep inside of me. I look up at him with half open eyes, and lean my forehead against his cheek. We take a second to catch our breaths before he slowly pulls out, making me gasp.

"Just lay here I'll be back." He gently lifts me to the pillows.

     I smile to myself as I try to gather my body. Toric comes back with a soft linen with warm water on it from the basin next to the fireplace. I give a smile of thanks as he helps clean me up, but my head is thrown back with a moan when he moves over my clit. He smirks at me before he moves his fingers in circles. I grip the blanket as I lean up to moan at him.

"Toric...I cant."

"Just one more little mate." He leans up to kiss me quickly.

He keeps moving his fingers in circles, but when I lift my hips he pushes one inside. He curls his finger upward. I fall to the bed with an arch. I can't find my body as I throw my head back with an actual scream of release. With his finger in his mouth he comes to lay next to me. He covers us with the blanket I threw across the bed.

"Get some sleep when you wake I'll be here for you, my queen." He growls into my neck.

"I love you my mate." I tell him my voice is full of sleep.

"I love you as well my Honeybee." I comfortably wiggle myself to be on his knee, basically like I would be if we were sitting.

     My heat lasted the whole week, and poor Toric was so tired once it was over. I laugh when he gives me looks now when I tell him a full moon is coming. I do tell him he can lock me in if he can't do it this month. He just growls at me and bends me over, usually it's his desk. He finally met my mother when she came to tell us I was with child. Toric immediately dropped to his knees to place his forehead to my stomach. Our son, Ambrose was born in the middle of winter. If it wasn't for Toric's warmth I don't think I would've made it.

[bromobear]

Werebear

[thedirtybubble316]

[moonshine-nightlight]

Voluntary Sacrifice

inspired by this prompt/setup by @snowkissedmonsters as well as their art

The local werebear is in heat and its become a town concern. You, who's always been fascinated by him and doesn't much to lose reputationally, volunteer to help him through it.

If only he believed you were doing so voluntarily, instead of being forced by the council.

Can you convince him of your sincerity before the full moon rises?

Male werebear x human reader, Heat, NSFW

Status: Complete (One-shot)

Length: 12k

AO3: Voluntary Sacrifice

Prompt:

You live in a human town in a fantasy world. In recent history, werecreatures enlisted to fight alongside humans throughout a bitter war in the territory. The result of that alliance is a (sometimes tense) tolerance between these two species who generally do not get along.

In the wilderness near your town, a werebear veteran has made his home. Bearish in appearance and manner, he vastly prefers solitude and is actively hostile to visitors. Sometimes he comes into town to sell meat and pelts from his hunts. The other humans are frightened, but you find him fascinating and peculiarly handsome.

A slew of livestock deaths precede an emergency town meeting. There's no question who the culprit is, or why. The town elders understand that a werecreature in heat is aggressive and dangerous. The town's interspecies liason officer, a veteran who fought beside the werebear, explains that it's not a deliberate attack on the town's livelihood, but even so, the maulings cannot continue. It may only be a matter of time before a human is injured.

The liason suggests hiring one of the workers at the town brothel to act as a "heat soother," but the brothel workers don't want the job. There's still a stigma over non-human creatures. The werebear is dangerous, violent, monstrous. Who knows if a human mate would even survive.

Tentatively, you volunteer for the role. You have no living family that could be shamed, you're naturally infertile so there's no concern over cubs, and... Well. You like the idea of it, though you keep that last point to yourself.

You are escorted to the werebears cabin by the eager liason officer, who's just glad the precarious human-werebeast alliance is no longer in jeopardy. Answering the door, the werebear looks surprised to see the two of you...

Then annoyed.

I told you, he growls at the liason, I will not take a forced mate.

The officer coos and assures the bear that you are here voluntarily, which he seems to doubt very much. He throws you both out of his cabin and slams the door.

/

“Good luck!”

You stare after Anton, the liaison officer, as he rides away, at a complete loss of what to do now. You’ve felt a headrush of sorts, like sliding down a hill in winter, since you first resolved to volunteer to help Temar and his slamming of the door in your face was an abrupt stop before you even reached the bottom. You cross your arms, telling yourself its because of the mild chill, not out of anxiety or embarrassment.

But you are, so so embarrassed. You don’t know exactly what you thought his reaction to you might be, but stonewalled indifference and complete refusal to even entertain the idea of mating with you wasn’t one of them. Heat licks at your cheeks from the way he’d looked at you, his lip curled in a snarl, something more than even just annoyance in his eyes. You’d felt the urge to shrink right then and there and only surprise kept you frozen upright.

You know you weren’t as young as the other unaffiliated women in town, weren’t as pretty, weren’t as agreeable, but surely he couldn’t smell your infertility or whatever made you feel so out of place with everyone else. What about you had been so offputting he’d not even considered you for a mate? You’d almost hoped that whatever made you so unappealing as a human mate might make you more appealing to a werebear. So much for that.

You’re not one for much dignity as it is, no one to stand on high graces, and you try not to let others’ opinions bother you, beyond where they interfere with your own ability to make your living. But even you can’t bring yourself to try to convince him to mate with you when he so clearly has absolutely no interest. Did you sacrifice what little standing you did have a reasonable and respectable person by volunteering for this only to not even be able to manage it? Was it for nothing?

You had only found the courage to approach him because of the surface-level reason of slaughtered livestock and fear for a person’s injury, but now, now you felt almost responsible for not being able to prevent such an occurrence. All because Temar found you unappealing.

You can’t leave without even saying more than a hasty word to him though. Maybe there’s some other way you can help. You’ve wanted an excuse to get to know him better for years, since you first saw him. Even before that, when someone stopped by your shop with some of the pelts they’d bought from him.

Beyond his attractive appearance being more than enough to draw your attention, he’s lived such an interesting life. The liaison was liberal with his stories and his own accomplishments in the war, but he never short-changed his friend. You also found the stories of people who have crossed him or questioned him entertaining more than scary. His refusal to play along with the petty etiquette of the town was funny, as were people’s puffed up reactions. Perhaps you should have expected this reaction after all, maybe he just doesn’t like humans.

The thought against brings embarrassed heat to your face once more as you remember how he’d looked in the doorway. His beard and mustache, short but full, the scar across his nose, those dark brown eyes. His hair was shaved on both sides, but long in the middle, pulled back into a loose bun and peppered with gray like his beard. Tall as you remember, but stockier—his frame particularly broad in the narrow doorway. You’d always found him especially handsome. There was no question what sort of were he was.

Before today, the closest you’d been was at the general store, behind him line for some flour, putting to rest the rumors that werecreatures only ate meat. His presence had fascinated you, large but contained. Wild but settled. Immovable, but not aggressive. Deliberate. You’d found your mind drifting to thoughts of him that night. Your mind liked to turn the idea of him over, half speculation, half pieced together clues from overheard gossip. When you were particularly lonely or even just particularly cold, it was comforting to know he was on his own too. He seemed to prefer it even. You preferred your solitude most of the time as well—half caught between feeling like an outsider for the inclination, half relieved since that’s where you ended up. You wouldn’t mind another friend who felt so, a bit of company you didn’t need to perform in front of. And it would be nice, to be useful to someone else who had no one.

You know he needs help now, more than ever. The liaison had assured them at the meeting that Temar was making every attempt to contain himself. Which reassured you that you’d not missed a callous trend in his nature, but also made you want to help more—not help with the abstract problem, but help him. The next best solution that had been discussed—and would likely need to be implemented now that it turned out you’d failed, you realize with a sinking heart—was to institute a town wide curfew until this ran its course. But maybe there is still some way you can aid him, even if not by soothing his heat directly.

You stand up straight, pushing off the railing you’d been leaning against, and resolve to at least try to talk to him. After all, you understood his continued solitude, but it felt silly during the meeting, that he wasn’t there to lend his own input. Surely he had the most insight into his situation. He must know what he needed. You raise you hand to knock on the door when it opens before you even get the chance.

“If you ain’t gonna have the sense leave, then get in,” a gruff voice orders.

Your feet are moving before you fully register the words. Relief floods your veins. Well, that was easier than you expected. Perhaps things were turning around.

/

They were not. Any hope you had for some softening of his attitude was quickly dashed.

It had seemed promising: the smell of cooking food, the heat that filled the main room from the large fire, the sound of crackling logs. All ease some of the tension in your bones immediately—not to mention that same deliberate air Temar had, the one that made you feel steady and safe. Safe enough to want what you want, without your usual instinct to hide such thoughts and feelings until you were alone lest others use them to hurt you.

You try to focus on the room itself, from the handmade furniture—you’d have recognized Ben’s work if it was—to the scant decoration. The cabin was simple, unadorned, but solid. It suited him. It made the few personal items he had stick out all the more. The large blanket and rug to make the room feel lived in. The well-cared for hunting gear in the corner. The collection of copper kitchenware, clearly used often.

Nearly as soon as you finished your preliminary survey of his home, he makes it very clear he still did not want you. “No notion of what’s going on in that fool Anton’s head, leaving you on my porch like bottles of milk,” he sighs, looking disgruntled and you fight the urge to apologize. He tucks a strand of hair that escaped his bun behind his ear and your fingers itch to do the same. You clench them tighter behind you, upset at how wild your thoughts are in the face of his rejection. “Fess up, what did they tell you? I don’t know what those old fearmongers at the counsel did to make you come here, but I’ll not hold it against you—only them.”

You tilt your head as you watch him pace over the fire, trying to keep your eyes on his head, not how well he fills out his trousers. You realize belatedly that you must still need to clarify. “There was a town meeting, but I volunteered, like Anton said,” you reply tentatively. He’d heard what his friend said. Right? Maybe that was why he’d refused? Not because he found you so abhorrent.

Temar scoffs. “Anton wouldn’t recognize subtle coercion if it stabbed him the back.”

You frown, starting to get a little frustrated with his seeming inability to hear you properly. “Be that as it may, I can. It’s the truth.”

Temar raises an eyebrow skeptically. “Right,” he says flatly. “Just like five years ago, when I moved here and Miss Ketevan was left on my doorstop around harvest time. She just wanted to offer some apples before high tailing it out of there once her grandfather was out-of-sight. Must have been crying and yelling for some other reason.”

Your frown deepens. The last of your family had died around then and you’d not joined a town meeting for a full year, plenty busy with grief and figuring out how to run the dye shop without any guidance. Keti was a younger than you but had a reputation as a troublemaker so she had been in the gossip plenty. Her grandfather, Carlos, was on the counsel and had seemed to consider her something of an embarrassment.

You thought she’d run off with the milkmaid, not because she was a failed sacrifice to the new werebear neighbor. It does throw into relief some other statements at the meeting. Like Anton’s emphasis on volunteers as he’d stared Carlos’ down, which had led to no one but you speaking up—not even the brothel workers. They’d not said but you knew they feared clients shunning whoever they sent, let alone however they felt about the stigma and fear associated with werecreatures.

 “I have no idea what did or did not happen five years ago, I wasn’t at any of those meetings nor at your house,” you say with a shrug. “Keti’s moved to the other side of the river, according to her sister, and is quite satisfied there. None of which was brought up at the meeting today.”

“What do they have on you?” Temar asks, squatting to stoke the fire, as if you just didn’t want to tell the truth his face. Ignoring everything you were saying while still trying to get answers from you. You liked tell about how stubborn he was in gossip. You liked it less at this moment. “If I can aid you and you can go on home, you’re welcome to ask.”

“They don’t have anything on me,” you reply slowly, trying to match his even tone so he doesn’t think your lying. The embarrassment that comes with volunteering so plainly to mate with him comes and goes in waves, but having to repeat it to him is a different flavor all together. “I am here of my own free will.”

Temar scoffs and huffs. “If you don’t want to tell me then fine.” He heaves himself back to his feet and peers out the window. “Sun’s going down. You can stay here for dinner and for the night. That better satisfy them, because you’re leaving first light in the morning.”

You turn away from his back, staring blindly at the countertop covered in ingredients for dinner. The one you interrupted with this piss-poor intrusion. He was likely just trying to give you an out, an excuse to save some dignity. You should’ve known you’d have no skill at seduction, not that you’d believed you’d need it. You’d hoped he be satisfied enough, in need enough that you’d suffice by being willing and not unattractive. Or so you thought. How pathetic. “I just wanted to help,” you say softly, more to yourself than him.

You sigh before walking over to the counter and picking up a knife. “Thank you for your hospitality,” you manage, your voice stiff with discomfort, but unwilling to completely give up yet. “Allow me to assist with the food.”

Dinner preparation is tense, quiet, but a relatively smooth affair. Temar’s already got the chicken dumplings nearly done so you leave that to him and handle the rest.

He only speaks to point you toward where things are when you ask. You’re happy he’s letting you do this much as you’ve more than got the message he’d prefer to do it all alone. You try to concentrate hard enough not to think about anything else.

“These dumplings are delicious,” you say belatedly, after you’ve already scarfed down two of them. They really are, hot and flavorful.

Temar grunts in response and you can’t help but pout, wondering if he thinks everything you say is a lie. You try at some other small talk, but nothing gets more than a yes or no out of him—after the first few, he just makes some vague noise of acknowledgment as he steadily eats through three times the portion of food you got, which had been more than generous. You’d been skeptical of how much he was making until you’d seen how much he was eating.

Did he also have to eat more before winter, like a normal bear? Was he going to sleep through it too? You swear he still came in with pelts, but you don’t really know. You’re more than aware that he’s not likely to give a straight answer if you ask. You ask anyway.

He gives you a look like you’re touched in the head. “No, I don’t hibernate. I stay in more, sleep more since its dark more, but I’m not actually a bear.”

“I know!” you protest, blushing, “but I’ve heard there’s overlap of some kind, forgive me for not being an expert. You’re the only werebear I know by name.”

“You know nothing,” he retorts, words finally bursting from him in a fit of frustration. You’re taken aback, but eager for any information given his recent impression of a clam. “You say you volunteer and yet you don’t know the first thing about werebears, let alone heats. You expect me to think you know what you’re saying you got yourself into when its clear no one explained anything.”

“Well, then you tell me,” you bat back, fed up by now with being treated as a criminal for even entertaining the notion you might be a suitable mate for him. “And don’t act like you wouldn’t have called me a liar even if I’d written a book on werebears and their heats.”

As his way seems to be, he ignores you to keep focus on whatever incorrect train of thought he has stuck in his head. “Even if you’re ignorant, didn’t your family object? Doesn’t someone have sense or self-preservation?”

You glare. Of all the—. “No—” you reply hotly before he cuts in.

“I thought that was something y’all paid attention to,” he drawls, waving with his fork. “ Fraternizing with the werecreatures is still a no-no right?” He leans forward, eyes bright, like a predator finally spotting their prey. “Is it them that the council is leaning on?”

Unfortunately for him, its a false sighting. “Don’t have any,” you reply bluntly, crossing your arms over your chest. “They died. About five years ago.”

You wonder if he’ll make the connection and to your surprise, he seems to as his brow furrows. “I see.” He leans back in his chair as if surrpised to notice he’d moved at all.

“Besides, I’m grown,” you’re annoyed you even have to remind him. He’s treating you like a child, ignoring you, calling you ignorant, making you out as a liar. Like a fool. You’ve long resolved not to let anyone treat you like a fool. “I make my own choices.”

He scoffs in that same manner that’s truly getting under your skin. “Right. How could I forget.”

“I don’t know,” your voice is sharper than its been all evening. “Seeing as I keep reminding you.”

Discomfort creeps into his frame and he looks down at his plate to mutter, “What even made them come up with this plan? Was this Anton’s idea?” He warms up to this new wrong idea—it was Jessaly on the council who had mentioned “heat soothers” seconded by Carlos. Anton only stepped in to mention volunteers. “Because if so, I’ll be having words with him next chance I get, strong words. I anticipated an order to leave town or to be taken to jail or a fight. I’m surprised the council even risked the chance for cubs.”

That last part completely derails you from your planned support for Anton. “Oh,” you can dismiss that concern easy, so you don’t hesitate to, “I can’t have children.”

That stops him completely, freezes him in his chair. “What?”

His reaction surprises you. “I thought…” You thought he could smell the infertility on you. You thought that was part of why he’d refused, like the others. If he couldn’t tell, you still didn’t think he’d have a reaction like this, like everyone else. “I can’t. My monthlies stopped only a few years in and a doctor confirmed the nature of the issue. It’s noted in the records because my engagement to—” You don’t even want to say his name, for all you don’t blame your former fiance. You hadn’t even been that excited about the marriage, but the reality of no marriage ever, well, that had been more of blow the coming years dealt to you. You manage a shaky smile. “No risk of children with me.”

You meet his eyes valiantly and he stares back. You hope you’re right when you don’t see any blooming realization that you’re broken, that you’re any more undesirable, but you’ve long given up trying to tell. Still his focus makes you babble, “I don’t want children anyway.” That at least is the truth and the reminder steadies you. You thought you’d gotten over the worst of this self-recrimination years ago. You were happy not to have that burden, that expectation, that danger in your life. You just want Temar to think well of you, and this always changes how people perceive you, no matter how much you wish it didn’t. That is what truly gets under your skin. Your shoulders drop some tension as your smile softens, becomes more genuine. “Better me than someone who did. It worked out for the best that way.”

If only it meant no partner, no chance for sex beyond work at the brothel—which you were not interested in despite them asking—or  visiting one, which you have in years past. Or the affairs some of the less reputable had tried for in the past. They always made it clear in the end, even if you were alright with the infidelity—it was only because you were ‘safe’ that they wanted you.

“Neither do I,” he says, causing you to look up at him. His expression turns defensive as he clarifies, “That doesn’t mean anything anyways. Still the most foolish idea I ever heard.” He stands up abruptly to refill his plate with a fourth helping.

You eat the remainder of the meal in silence.

Finally, your plate is clean and your belly is full. You manage to take Temar by surprise by snatching up his plate in addition to yours, bringing them over to the wash basin before he could do some himself. You’re determined to do something useful while you’re here and he’s feeding you.

Maybe all lack of eye contact was for him and not you. Maybe you’ll have better luck staring at the water. “So, is there anything you’ll actually let me do to help?”

Another huff, almost a growl of frustration, and Temar replies, grit in his tone, “I told you I ain’t taking a mate just because the town’s made my heat their business this year.”

You don’t even bother arguing the point again and consider his words. You hadn’t thought about other years. There’d never been notice of it so you assumed it wasn’t actually an annual event. What made this year so different? Instead of asking, you return his own volley. “I heard you. I didn’t mean that, though I must mention that the town is only involved because it has become their business this year.”

Temar doesn’t answer, but you can feel his gaze on your back. Being the focus of his attention is electrifying. “Other than having a mate,” you remind yourself outloud. “Are there other things that I can help with? Measures to be taken, information to be shared. Anything?”

There’s silence behind you before he stands up from the table, the scrape of his chair loud. You hope to the gods he’s actually doing something, thought of something in response to your question rather than just leaving. Although technically, you suppose, that would also be a response to your question.

You methodically scrub the dishes while you listen to him move about the main room of the cabin. He sits back down at the table, bringing something with him. You can’t dry this tankard any more thoroughly so you turn around to see if he’s simply ignoring you or not.

He’s bent over something on the table, a piece of paper? You frown and walk over to get a closer look. As if he can sense you, once you’re close enough he points one thick finger at the paper. “Who’s land is this?”

You frown as you study what you realize is a map of the town. Unlike most you’ve seen, it doesn’t have roads or even real buildings on it. Abstract symbols represent structures—you think—and the town center and main street buildings are one big marker. Nothing indicated for individual stores. It takes another minute to realize the outlined shapes covering the map are the property lines, not buildings, roads, or rivers, though some overlap with where you know those to be. Leave it to a werebear to have a map of the town by territory.

“If you don’t know—” he says, huffing per usual.

“Apologies if I need more than a minute,” you huff back, more than fed up and far more assured after the time spent with him that he has no plans to kick you out tonight. “I’ve never seen a map like this.”

He quiets down and you manage to follow your memory of the road out to… “The Meskal’s Farm, Evanna and Leon.” You also manage to make the connection, although you’re not sure he meant for you to. They’d been the most recent farm that had suffered from slaughtered livestock.

Temar brings over a slate with some notes in chalk already written out. He’s got shorthand notes, similar to those on the map, but all unlike any you’ve seen before. He jots down what must be their name above some already existing notes. You squint, trying to make sense of the letters and numbers. “Two ewes and one lamb,” you correct, hoping you decoded right.

He freezes and you hold your breath for annoyance or anger, but instead he merely erases one number and writes in another. “I assume this was discussed with the council?”

“Yeah,” you see no reason to beat around the bush. As you continue to squint at his notes, leaning over his broad shoulder to see better. “The Oche’s steer had to be put down, but they salvaged the meat. Anton reassured them it was edible and bought some himself so the rest of the town followed suit.”

“Still, I’ll be paying my debt, it just might take some time,” Temar replies gravely. “I’ll not have anyone say I don’t pay what I owe or think I don’t owe it, like some uncivilized beast.”

“I can pass that along,” you offer, still reaching for some way to contribute, to help. His integrity touches your heart, makes that urge to give aid stronger. Anton had something vague to the affect, but the town had little confidence in Anton’s assurances. You have confidence in Temar’s.

“I would appreciate that,” he sounds a little belligerent, a little abashed.

You smile, happy to have found anything useful to do and lean in again, to study his map more closely. You mentally map out the other families who had damage and notice they’re all in a line from his property west and against the forest. He does seem to be attempting to keep to limited area. How much control does he have? Could you help corral him somehow?

You reach to point. “Is this the river or—” You start to lose you balance from the awkward angle you’re at. Your other hand reaches for the next closest thing to steady yourself—Temar’s shoulder.

Next thing you know you’re knocking into the table and he’s standing several feet away, a snarl on his face. “Don’t.”

You’re stricken by the vehemence from a such a small, almost-touch of his person. It had been too easy to forget he disliked you so, is so offended by your very presence. “I’m sorry!” It’s as if he thinks you were attempting to trick him. You hasten to clarify, hands raised in surrender. “I wasn’t trying—”

Temar leaves the room before you even finish speaking.

/

Temar braces himself before he goes back in the main room, his forehead pressed against the solid wood of his walls.

He’s hoping he’s gotten used to your scent, built up a tolerance, but knows it’ll only have gotten stronger for each moment you’ve been here. Gods know he’s only become more susceptible to it. How anyone in all his life has such a bewitching scent, he’ll never know.

The second he’d opened his front door, he’d wanted to drag you inside and never let you out. The beast inside instantly proclaiming Mine. Only mine. He’d barely heard anything Anton said over the roaring in his ears. The slam of his door had been as much panic defensiveness as it had been frustrated aggression.

The line between those two does seem to blur most during heat.

You stayed out there, looking so lost and somber on the porch, lip caught between your teeth as you thought. He’d had to get you to stop before he took over the task for you. An early sign of heat madness surely because of fucking course it was far worse having you in his home. Where his beast said you belonged. Where you could say all the words he was salivating to hear as truth even though he knew them to be false.

Those council assholes would pay for putting him through this torture. Temar knew he was a werebeast and yet this was inhumane even for his kind. He tried to find a proper target for his aggression, but you’d given him nothing to work with, persistent in your tale. As if a kind, quick-witted, pretty thing like you would ever subject yourself to a beast like him unless you felt you had no other option.

Distractions haven’t been helping, trying to keep his eyes off you was impossible to sustain, and stonewalling didn’t ever seem to deter you for long. It’s as if you were perfectly designed to get past all of his defenses. There are still so many hours until sunrise—if Temar’s even going to last that long, even be able to let you go at that point. After you’d seeped into his home, his life. You seem to fit so well.

You play at being kind like a master actor and he hopes that’s not all a front. You’re smart, independent, but oh so willing to help. Duress, he reminds himself, you’re here under duress. The fuckers in town must have forced you here somehow. He can’t believe how low they’ve stooped, taking advantage of your lack of family, of your infertility to make you into a sacrifice. The perfect sacrifice.

His beast still wants to try to breed you, undeterred by logic, but it’s his human head that’s unfairly tempted by the knowledge. When he’s in his rational mind, he stands by what he said. The risk of children, others with his condition, his ostracization from society is something he’d never condemn an innocent soul to suffer. Not mention he likes his solitude, likes only being responsible for himself and only answerable to himself. It’s why the council involving itself is so frustrating. Its why the idea you might be here of your own free will is so appealing. Lack of such a child-bearing risk is even more appealing, more alluring than he’d ever realized it would be. Than it had any right to be. Why are you so damn perfect for him?

Clearly distance was not helping. Perhaps it was even making his beast stronger, without you to look at him and, for all your knowledge of his nature, expect a rationale man to look back.

Temar walks back into the main room, feeling like a man condemned, only to immediately regret his choice as he rigidly locks every muscle he can to prevent his beast from pouncing. He’d thought you’d stopped trying to seduce him with your faux willingness and pretty eyes. Your soft, steady kindness…

Even he’d admitted to himself once alone that you likely hadn’t meant anything by hovering so close, by trying to steady yourself on him. Your fall onto the table, not to mention the complete startlement on your face from his reaction. But what the fuck is this?

“What are you doing?” he asks through clenched teeth, hoping the beast inside isn’t giving away the feral lust coursing through his veins.

“What?” You look up, surprised he’s back, but there’s no embarrassment in your face. If anything, your expression smooths back to usual faster than he feels it has a right to. “Oh, I hadn’t realized how wet my apron had gotten from the dishes, sorry about the wasted water.”

“Why have you removed it?” Temar’s voice was strangled as the words passed through his lips. Ordinarily, he knows it would barely register with him, but you removing any article of clothing has his beast pulling at the chains he’s trying to use to keep it inside where it belongs.

“Well, I didn’t know how else to dry off,” you reply, brow furrowing in confusion as you dab at yourself with part of the folded-up apron. Temar can see the damp stains where the water had soaked through the light green fabric underneath. “Besides, I don’t want to catch anything, sitting around in wet clothes. It’ll be dry by morning if I leave it by the fire.”

Temar’s mind is already overrun by the reminder he’d invited you, like the numbskull he is, to stay the night. You’re unlikely to sleep fully dressed. You’ll take more than just your apron off in his home. You’ll strip down to your chemise. He can see the edges of it under your dress—white cotton poking out. Nothing more under that except soft skin—skin he isn’t allowed to touch.

Temar tries to combat the pleasing images of you splayed naked in his bed with images of your bruised and bloody from his claws, his strength, his carelessness. They’re impossible to sustain with you so hale and unbothered in front of him. The comfort of his den discourages such violence from his thoughts, his heat poisoning his mind against him. You aren’t here by choice, he reminds himself.

It’s hard to believe when you cross his room with self-assured confidence, bending down to arrange your apron by his fire, acting as if you’ve no fears to worry you. Your hair is ruffled from either the dishes or taking off your apron and you pat at it absentmindedly. Temar wants it spread across his sheets, his pillow, mussed and messed by his hands while he claims you for himself. The town clearly doesn’t appreciate you, doesn’t value you what they have. He’d treat you right. He’d make sure you loved being his.

With a shake of his head, he blinks and the image before him resolves to you seated on a chair, delicately rebraiding your hair. He can’t keep his eyes off the swift movements of your fingers. Temar imagines what it would feel like if you did the same to him, this simple careful, everyday task. You look up at him from under your full eyelashes, looking perfectly innocent and not a creature pulled from his greatest nightmares and most sincere dreams. “So do you have a plan for managing however many days are left? Have you gone into heat in previous years? How did you manage then?”

The flush that blooms on your face is endearing and attractive. Temar wants desperately to know what you’re thinking when you say ‘heat’. You’ve avoided saying the word nearly the entire time you’ve been heard. Temar knows the rumors that fly about the human population about werebeasts, about heats, he’s overheard it all. From eating human mates to potent fertility and everything in between. Which ones have you heard? Which do you believe in? Likely none of the violent ones or you’d find the prospect far more intimidating than whatever bullshit the council is using to coerce you.

“Temar?”

“You’re right, I’ve already managed to work out a solution on my own, making you presence doubly wasteful.” You flinch at his words and every instinct screams at him to sooth you, to take it back—whatever is needed to make his mate stay. Temar turns rather than continue to watch your reactions to his harsh words. Despite knowing its necessary, it hurts to see your hurt and only encourages the beast to want to soothe, to steal your mind from any hurt by drowning it out with lust and heat. “Follow me.”

“You’ll sleep here,” Temar points out, continuing to refuse to look back at you or his bed for that matter.

His control would surely shatter if he saw you so close to it. He imagines how easily he could push you down on the furs and sheets until he had you spread out like a feast for him and him alone. How he would savor you. How he wouldn’t let you up until he was more than satisfied. A glutton of lust.

The cold metal of the door knob jolts him out of his thoughts. “I’ll be out back.” The crisp air, the brisk breeze, blow your scent from Temar and clear his head. He nearly sighs with relief as he walks off to the right, purpose in his steps, a reminder of his duty as he follows the familiar path.

“Here.” Its clear no matter where you thought he was leading you “pit” was not on the list. Your eyebrows lift nearly to your hairline as you stare down, allowing him precious seconds to gaze at you without a mask of stoicism or frustration, only naked hunger.

“You asked where I weathered heats of the past?” Temar neglects to mention that the first couple years in town rendered his heats short and taxing. Just a handful of nights around the late summer full moon, when the first chill to the air heralding the coming winter. Between his beast’s discomfort with new territory and his own war memories haunting him, his heats were not a concern. It’s only last year that his heat was how it used to be in his youth.

Wild. Hungry. Enduring.

This year is worst yet, not only because of the tight grip it has on him and how he can tell, despite more than a week in, that he has days to go, but also due circumstances outside of his control.

You’re smart enough to spot it. “Did something happen to this…?”

Temar puts you out of your awkward misery. “There was a flood after that storm a couple weeks ago. It dislodged that tree and a wall collapsed.” He’d hoped his heat wouldn’t return with the vengeance it did and so had put off excavating. “In the end, the den took longer than I thought to rebuild, to dig deep enough again. Still not sure I have,” he confesses when you look at him with such open, receptive eyes.

You frown and squint down at the den and Temar doesn’t like the reminder of how dark it’s getting. This entire evening has been a distraction, from the knock on his door, to the meal, to now. He ought not neglect the den any longer, not let his beast draw this out until it can overpower his conscience.

He puts down the ladder, hands grateful for something to do besides itch to settle on your hips. “I’ll be needing to get everything out of here, before the moon finishes rising.” Temar descends as quickly as he can, jumping the last few feet and turning to survey the den.

It was nicer before, he thinks with some dismay, some shame at you seeing such a bare hole in the ground. It’s primarily filled with tools for digging and fortifying, none of the minimal furs and blankets that should be givens for a den. The roof had been damaged when the tree fell in so he hopes it doesn’t rain. Temar resigns himself to waking up covered in dew. It’ll still be better than waking up covered in blood, even after verifying it was all from livestock.

“Temar?” His name on your lips draws his attention back up, like a flower to the sun, like a fish to water, like blood to a bear.

“Can I help you clear it out?” Temar just stares at you, part of his mind still surprised you’re here. Still here. Still offering to help. Help him. You cross your arms again and Temar wishes it didn’t look so good on you, the way it pushes up your chest, makes your arm muscles more prominent. What sort of shop did you say you had again? “Look, I’m another pair of hands, ain’t I?”

“Technically,” he allows, speaking without thinking. All his thought concentrated on your form above him, ripe for the plucking.

You seem to take that as permission and start climbing down the ladder. Temar turns so quickly to avert his eyes from your ass that he forgets to forbid you from coming down. You touch down lightly and Temar reluctantly faces you again, a puppet on the strings of his inner beast, to soak in the sight of you in its den.

The cabin belongs to Temar, the man. The den belongs to Temar, the beast.

Something of that must come across on his face as you pause, one hand on the ladder. “Does it break a rule, for me to be down here?”

A den is a personal, sacred space, with only those closest allowed entry. The beast does not allow you to lie. “No.” A prospective mate is more than a natural allowance. It’s expected.

You nod with satisfaction. The beast preens in approval at your persistence, at your ease in its den. “Then I’m helping. What’s next?”

Wordlessly, you point to the table with the hand tools.

“All of these?” you ask, even as you begin to gather them.

Temar turns away, unable to watch you ascend, and focuses on the final wheelbarrow he needs to move out, the planks he’s using as ramps he’ll need to remove. “Gotta get everything out of here so it don’t get broken.” Also so he can’t use it to escape. When he’s more beast than person, the use of tools doesn’t come naturally, but he’s relentless. Safer to keep them out of reach. That’s the real challenge—keep himself out of reach.

“Right.” There’s a pause while you move around behind him. Temar tries to focus on the feeling of the smooth wood of the wheelbarrow handles, the shudder of the wooden planks below as he moves it out of the den. “How come the walls are like this?”

You must be gesturing to the flat stones embedded in the dirt walls. “Harder to climb, although I haven’t had time to finish the back wall that collapsed yet. Claws don’t do well on smooth stone. A lot if the grout needs to be redone. Something for tomorrow.”

“Smart,” you say, sounding impressed.

Temar grunts in response, trying to focus on pulling the crude ramp out of the den and not on puffing up at your approval. Not seeing how else he might earn your esteem, might otherwise impress you.

“What’s it like,” you ask, quietly but clearly. Temar had been wondering if you’d ask. Waiting. “When…”

You trail off so he’s not sure if you meaning being a werebear or being one in heat. He supposes the answer isn’t terribly different. “Simpler, harsher, more vivid,” he says, “Less control when in heat than the rest of the time. In the army, we were trained to control the transformation, taught how to keep our minds more intact—it doesn’t work like that for heat. Getting locked up is how it was dealt with even there.” Not that they lasted long back then for anyone.

“I’ve heard of the loss of control.” You don’t specify if you mean in general or in heat, but Temar supposes it doesn’t matter either way.

Perhaps this would be a good time to remind both of you what’s at stake, how dangerous Temar is in heat to anyone vulnerable around him. “Just a beast at that point.” Temar doesn’t look you in the eye as he keeps talking, heading back down into the den now the planks are out and it’s the only way down. “Can’t understand human speech. Can barely tell human from animal. No reasoning with me. I’ll do what I want when I want to. Damn anyone else.”

Not that you’re as intimidated as he wishes you were. “What about other weres?”

“Aye.” Temar doesn’t mind confirming that, not when he knows it can’t encourage you. “Thats a mite different. We can handle each other better, can find that sliver of common ground. Family can calm you, your own territory, and of course, if you’ve got everything you want, you won’t go roaming for it. Won’t get angry and frustrated you can’t find it.”

“That all the time, or just in heat?” He can still hear the shyness in your voice whenever you say heat, but its obvious your curiosity is too great. Temar surveys the den while he considers his answer, hands you left over plates and cutlery from his noontime meal, eaten down in the den while he worked furiously to get it ready for tonight. He’s careful not to let his fingers brush yours, not to look you in the face, lest he see some fear there that hadn’t been before. Lest the beast see a lack of such fear. Temar truly felt caught between a rock and hard place.

He can see the question you’re dancing around and cuts to the quick, praying you’ll be sensible and leave since he wouldn’t be able to make you anymore. He’s not sure he even could back on the porch. “Its dangerous for any human to lay with a werebeast. Injury from strength or claws or teeth is impossible to prevent. Even if you’re mates.” He reminds himself as ruthlessly as tells you. It was rare, but it happened. Heartbreaking accidents. “Even if you’ve known each other for years. Someone in my troop had killed their husband in a heat frenzy once.”

“Not always though,” you reply, too hopeful by far, too logical not to notice the exaggeration. “It can’t be or weres would have died out.”

“No, not always,” Temar allows. “The tendency towards multiple children in a litter helps. But usually longer held relationships fare better. If the were isn’t in a bad mood, isn’t stressed—if the partner cooperates right.”

He hands you the last item that needs out and once you get to the top, he says, “Pull up that ladder, now.”

You pause, standing stock still and for a second he wonders if you’ll even listen. Temar’s not sure he has the strength to ask a second time.

“Sure.” You pull up the ladder.

His human mind eases at that, at the sight of you more than seven feet overhead, out of reach. His beast disagrees, seething in displeasure and unfulfilled lust. Naturally, you can’t leave well enough alone and sit down, legs dangling into the den. He knows he could grab your ankle at this, yank you down and—

Temar turns to study the den once more. It won’t stick in his mind with you clouding his judgment the way you are. He narrows his eyes, forcing himself to assess if its deep enough, the walls defended enough. “I still need to get the cover fixed, if that damn blacksmith ever manages to be around when I stop by. The back wall needs to be stoned, but if I try to climb it like it is, it’s just as likely to crumble which’ll keep me in just the same. It’ll do. It had better more than satisfy those bastards on the council.”

“Oh, yes, I suppose it will.” You shrug, as if you’d forgotten about them. “Will you let me visit? After I leave in the morning—” you add swiftly as if to cut off a correction Temar for once wasn’t offering. “In case there’s anything else I can help with? I meant it when I said we could help each other out. I admit I do not relish the chore of fetching all fuel for my fire in these coming months and perhaps I can provide something for you? I’m a skilled weaver in addition to my work with dyes. If you would not be opposed?”

How can you forget the council so easily? Dismiss them offhand like that. Why do you speak of ‘after’ so lightly? As if you expect to see him again, as if that’s something you might want. Temar’s thoughts turn in circles once more over your duress. He must remember you cannot be here by choice. It’s getting harder by the minute. By each minute you sit on the edge of his den, not a care in the world. Not a notion of his steadily deteriorating self-control. His lack of giving any indication of his growing need has gone from helpful to sinister, a wolf in sheep’s clothing no longer trying to reassure, but to lure closer its prey.

“Perhaps,” he manages to say.

You continue to talk, but the words’ meaning slip through his fingers. The change is pushing itself on him while he wiles away a few more minutes in your presence. Just to try to burn off excess energy, Temar turns to push one of the stones in better, to align it flat with the rest of them. Except… he can feel your eyes on his back while he does so.

Your scent to spikes.

He wheels around, wildly, and belated realizes the height you’re at, brings your loins far more to a height with his nose than ever before. Did his display of strength inspire something of lust in you? His beast roars for you once more at this indication of receptiveness.

The moonlight colors your hair, emphasizing your etherealness, the wonder at your very presence. How much Temar wants to hold you in his hands, claim you for his own. How much he wants to bring you down to earth, push you under him and take his pleasure from you.

He takes a step closer and it feels like the first sprung leak in a dam. The first domino to fall. The spark of fire on dry, dry tinder.

“R-un.”

In retrospect perhaps the most provocative thing Temar could have done was instigate a chase. Actually, the most provocative was definitely you listening and running.

You pull your legs up swiftly, battling your skirts to get your feet under yourself with a haste that surprises even yourself. Only one word and a glimpse of those glowing eyes, and you’re dashing for the cabin. Adrenaline pours into your veins as you the image of the fur rippling out over Temar’s body as he gave that last command fills your mind. 

In retrospect, the fur had been spreading steadily since you’d taken away the ladder without you fully registering it. His voice had been changing, although that you’d noticed plenty. The lower tone was a little harder to make out, even more pleasant to listen to, stirring up those lascivious thoughts that hadn’t left your mind since the town meeting was called. You swear his muscles had swelled too. The way they had moved beneath his shirt, which fit tighter with each minute that had passed. You’d felt spellbound, even though you swear that’s not a rumor associated with weres, and unconcerned by said compulsion.

Given the seriousness with which Temar gave the order as well as his earlier apprehension, you feel guilty for the mad sort of excitement rather than fear that courses through you. A roar, harsh and throaty, comes from the den behind you. It's one of rage and frustration. A beast that’s just realized it's been trapped. That it can’t get to what it wants. A loud thud follows. A growl of continued frustration hurries you on, feet pounding the ground as you run. You can almost trick yourself into thinking you hear your own name mixed in with the next roar that comes from where you’ve left Temar behind.

Due to your haste and unfamiliarity with Temar’s land and the fallen gloom, you end up missing the door along the back of the cabin and re-enter through the front. You lock that door with shaking hands and a pounding heart. The sounds of nature, of wind, of the echoes of Temar’s growl, are replaced by quiet solitude and the crackle of the fire, still burning in the hearth. You attempt to catch your breath. You try to let the mundane familiarity of the cabin and the silence calm your nerves. It’s not working very well.

You’re not sure what prompted his yell or his roar. Temar had said if he had everything he needed, he wouldn’t want to go searching for it, so it must have been his inner beast’s continued frustration at the lack of a desirable mate, which you continue to attempt not to take personally.

You’re still keyed up from the experience and seeing him actually start to transform, which still held some magic to you having never witnessed such a thing before, as well as all your interactions with him this evening. Temar seemed somewhat open to the idea of being friends, which was nice, you remind yourself. He is still immensely fascinating to you—this night has only made that more apparent. He feels less onerous to be around than some of your other acquaintances. He doesn’t put up any fronts and you feel like you don’t have to either. Even when he was clearly frustrated or angry—which you believe is exacerbated by whatever physical and mental toll his heat is putting on him—he never raised his voice. Temar only ever physically moved away from you, not towards you. 

Speaking of physicality, he was so strong. The way he moved, carried, and shoved the tools out of his den had been impressive. The skill and strength it must have taken to make it in the first place, from the manual labor of digging it out, to stonework, to the manner of transportation in and out were all impressive. You’ll have to make sure to stop by Nicolas’ forge tomorrow to ensure Temar can get his roof fixed. But for now, your mind’s eye lingers on how his muscles had flexed, how easily he might be able to move you about, lifting you, arranging you to best please him.

You shake your head to try to rid yourself of such thoughts when none of them are going to come true. Temar is the one who’s having a hard time, not you here in his home. He hadn’t complained about the den, but you can tell it must be a far cry from what it was before the damage, it saddens you to think of him out there and alone. You long to comfort him, even though you know he doesn’t want your comfort. His roar had only proven his frustration and unhappiness, how unfulfilled he must be, stuck in the pit. You swear you can still hear yet another roar mixed with your name. 

You take another look around the room and sigh, finding it far less interesting without him present. You’re still wound up from today’s jostling ship ride of events. Your hormones are out of balance after plans and hopes of helping Temar through his heat. While ending your night alone in Temar’s cabin, in his bed, while he’s stuck out in a hole in the ground isn’t where you expected or how you wanted the night to end, you suppose it's better than him still out in the woods where he might cause more damage or hurt someone.

Your hands go to your buttons as you start to undo them. An early night is in order. Just because Temar doesn’t want you, doesn’t mean you have to go unsatisfied. Your outer clothing drops to the floor, leaving you in your underthings. Draping the cloth over the couch, you wonder if he might be able to smell what you get up to in the morning. Would it be cruel to leave such a trace behind? you wonder as you slip over to the bedroom door. Or would it be your due after his refusal?

Something to worry about in the morning. You’re too hot and bothered to care much now. You turn the knob and enter the dark room. Your eyes just barely adjust enough to make out the outline of his large bed of furs when you’re pushed back against the door, slamming it shut. 

An almost subsonic growl fills the small room as you look up and up to meet glowing yellow-green eyes. Your heart hammers in your chest, even faster than it had when you’d been running only a few moments ago. A cloud moves from in front of the full moon and the beast that Temar must be now looms over you.

Heavy hands—or are they paws now?—pin you to the wall, one spread over your sternum and the other engulfing your hip. Your hands reflexively reach out and curl around his arm, fingers sinking into dense, soft fur. With the hand pressing against your chest, you barely manage to make a sound more than a surprised inhale, anything else compressed by Temar’s savage strength and your own shock. 

Fight or flight seems to have tried to kick in only to unexpectedly leave you both at ‘freeze’ while you stare one another down. The moonlight illuminates his face, throwing into relief the complex mix of man and beast Temar now is. The same black salted with gray that had been evident in his beard is now more evident in the thin layer of fur covering his face. His jaw is larger to accommodate the sharp teeth and prominent fangs now present. His mouth is open as he pants and huffs, eyes fixated on you. You can still see the man in the beast, but he’s more than he was only moments ago.

You hold perfectly still as Temar leans down and starts to huff and sniff at your neck, shifting his fingers as he does so. You can feel his claws snag in the looser weave of your chemise as he does so. Has he always smelled like the forest? you think in a shocked haze, like the pine trees and the freshly turned earth with an undercurrent of musk. He growls into your neck while you stay pinned like an insect on a card, unable to do anything else when confronted by the reality of his transformed appearance, of his touch when he had recoiled from you so vehemently before.

You jolt when he manages to do more than growl, when you realize it isn’t your imagination that puts your name on his lips. Heat sears through you to hear the need in his voice, the demand, by the idea that you’ve managed to make such an impression on him that he managed to speak at all. Then those lips cover your own in an uncoordinated but wanting kiss. Instantly, your mind is wiped clean of rejection, and disinterest, and undesirability. Those ideas can’t exist in tandem when he kisses you like he’s starving. 

When you break apart, you breathlessly gasp out his name, a hand cupping his jaw. You suck in shallow breaths, as if you only just stopped running, as if he’d been chasing you since he’d told you to run. You tremble with shameless lust at being sought after specifically—he hadn’t just been demanding after vague wants but for you.

He manages your name once more, tongue and jaw and teeth making the word hard to understand except that all your senses are straining for him, desperate for anything to help you understand him, to understand this change. “Mate.” 

You don’t know if it's a question or not, but it's all you’ve been offering since you first showed up on his doorstep. “Yes,” you reply breathlessly, suddenly more desperate than ever in his hold. Desire burns through you for him. You tug futilely at his jaw, push desperately against the massive paw on your chest to reach him. “Temar. Mate.”

You don’t fool yourself into thinking your strength is what moves him, but perhaps your words do manage to penetrate his mind because he presses his lips to yours once more, immediately deepening the kiss. He fucks into your mouth with filthy promise. Your head is held between the door at your back and him, hot and massive, crowding you, boxing you in, cutting off any escape. Escape is the absolute furthest thing from your mind.

His grip on you strengthens, the hand on your sternum moving to bracket your neck. His thumb rests lightly against the column of your throat, the claw drawing a line of danger on your collarbone. His fingers hooked over your back, their claws digging into the meat of your shoulder. They haven’t broken your skin but you know they could, the sting of them makes you want to arch both away and into them. 

You tremble as you realize how securely and sinfully caught you are by this werebear, by Temar. You know that he could hold onto you like this for hours and nothing you could do would be able to force him to let go. You never want him to. Instead you melt in his hold. His hand pinning you by your hip is likely the only thing keeping you on your feet and not just a pool of lust at his.

His need is evident given the way his hips rock against your own. The press of him against your whole body is unlocking some hidden need in you and you attempt to push back, to rut against him in return. You feel desperation growing in your bones, in the heart of you, something wild and wanting that can only be sated by him. Temar rumbles his approval, moving more deliberately against you until a growl of frustration escapes him.

When he pulls back, readjusting his hold on you, you open your mouth to protest, to say something, anything to get him back. It’s reflexive after how this night has gone, but unnecessary now. Temar picks you up with no apparent effort, only impatience, and tosses you onto the bed. 

You land with an oof, scrambling to think around the rolling heat that moves through your body threatening to drown you at such a display. You’ve barely made any sense of yourself after being flung through the darkness when he’s dropped low and moved on top of you. His movements are strong and decisive as he pushes your chemise up. He noses his way between your thighs, spreading them apart to make room for him. You barely have time to consider being embarrassed about being exposed, at how wet you know you are, when his wide tongue, inhuman roughness obvious, covers your cunt.

Your yelp of surprise turns into a long drawn out moan as he licks at you, vigorously, hungrily. He places a massive hand on each of your thighs, claws stinging just enough to quicken the pulsing need between your legs. You twitch and shiver as he pushes your legs further apart to accommodate his bulk. Your heated skin finds the remaining fabric bunched around your waist too much and you hastily try to shuck it the rest of the way off as fast as you. It's the most uncoordinated you’ve ever felt due to the manner in which Temar is concentrating on sucking your mind out of your head via your cunt.

Free at last of the uncomfortable and restricting garment, you reach down, fingers threading into Temar’s wild mane of hair on instinct alone. You don’t kow if you’ve even stopped moaning since his tongue attached itself to your cunt. Simultaneously, it's too much and not enough and all you can do is try to hang on for the ride he’s determined to take you on. Sweeping you down into the heat of feral lust with him. 

One of his hands leaves your thigh to clamp down across your stomach and hold down your hips. Your fingers tighten as he holds you in place to take what he wants from you. His unwavering focus is on eating you out, so starving for you that for now even the beast is content with your taste, leaving his hips rutting against the bedding. 

Temar wrings sounds from you know you’ve never made before. You never want anyone else to even try. Fuck, so good, you think. Or maybe you say aloud because you swear he grunts his approval and his tongue somehow manages to reach deeper. 

The black pad of his thumb rubs your clit perfectly and you scream you shatter. He growls triumphantly as he greedily drinks down every last drop of your release

You feel unspooled and languid, molten in your pleasure. Temar too seems satisfied with the meal he’s made of you for now as he pulls back, licking his lips. His fingers tighten their hold on your hips as your only warning before he flips you over. Dazedly, automatically, you try to brace yourself. He grunts in approval at how he has successfully maneuvered you onto your hands and knees. Right where you wanted to be ever since you first understood that he was in heat without a lover. Since you realized you wanted to be that lover.

One of his hands leaves your hip to stroke up your spine and you shudder at the feeling of calluses, iron strength, and claws. Instinctively, you arch into the motion, wanting to encourage him to touch you as much as possible. You’re so grateful you’ve already tossed your chemise gods know where. “Please,” you gasp out.

He rumbles with approval and as if having heard your unarticulated thoughts, drapes himself further over you. He pulls you against the cradle of his hips with one firm motion eliciting a squeal from your lips. It's evidently not close enough, as he wraps his fingers around your shoulder and pulls again until he can rut his cock against where you feel oh so empty. 

With you where he wants you, Temar releases his hold on your shoulder to lurch you both forward, him bracing you both with that hand on the bed. It leaves you clearly trapped under him. You close your eyes to savor the position and you’re struck by the image you two would paint, were you able to see. Perhaps that should be more intimidating or even frightening than it is, but you like the heavy weight of him, the power evident in his body as he cages you in. 

The ache between your legs only grows more acute. “Temar,” you plead, attempting to move your hips against him despite the hold he still has on one of your hips. The gnawing hunger and persistent emptiness are starting to hurt, desire buzzing along your every nerve. 

“Mine,” Temar proclaims as the head of his cock finally catches perfectly and he starts to drive into you. The stretch and ache of him causes your moan to fracture under the strain. It’s been so long, but you're so wet it almost doesn’t matter. He’s so thick, so long, you’re losing all sense of anything outside of where the two of you are joined. The last few inches cause a pleasurable burn as you clench around him. Gods it's been too long since you were filled like this, if you’ve ever even had someone with his girth before. 

Temar growls contentedly once he’s fully seated inside you and you gladly take the precious few seconds to adjust. Soon enough, he pulls nearly all the way out of you causing a desperate whine to build up in the back of your throat until he thrusts back in, ripping a ragged sound from your throat that might resemble his name. 

He picks up speed with each movement of his hips, getting surer and stronger each time. You feel your whole body move and jolt with his each and every thrust. Your hands scrabble fruitlessly at the bedding under you, trying to brace yourself or get a grip but you can’t, uncoordinated and weak from your previous orgasm as well as the overwhelming way Temar is fucking you. 

He’s going to ruin you and you’re going to thank him.

His control seems to be fraying the longer he’s inside you. You can see the claws tipping his fingers get longer where they dig into the bedding and you can feel the way they dig into your hip. The pain is the perfect counterpoint to the pleasure of him finally hitting that perfect spot inside. You can feel your inner walls flutter from the sensation. Temar must like that because he groans and makes a noticeable effort to strike that same spot repeatedly.

The unrelenting attention pays off immediately as you can feel your need wind tighter and tighter while your mind empties of thought except for the sensation and heat Temar is bringing forth from the depths you. The continual barrage of his cock finally shoves you over the edge of pleasure once more and you obligingly shatter.

He groans as your clenching around him seems to be all he needs to let go. He hilts in you one last time and you feel him come hard. He fills you up with his seed, warmth spreading, and continuing to make little half thrusts, as if trying to make sure it stays deep within you. You’re still coming down from your orgasm but the sense of satisfaction expands in your chest now that Temar’s reached his peak too.

You close your eyes, limp underneath him, but more content than you’ve felt in ages, in perfect harmony with your werebeast mate.

At some point, you feel him tip you both over onto your sides, though he keeps his cock firmly seated within your heat, keeping you full. Temar’s rumble is full of satisfaction and he engulfs you in his hold, making it clear neither of you are separating anytime soon.

You don’t know how long you lay there on your side, blissfully fuck out, still full of him. You don’t care. You enjoy floating in the hazy afterglow. Eventually he slips out of you, pulling a gasp from you and a whine from him. He nuzzles against you, as if to comfort you. You’re too boneless and witless to do anything more than nuzzle him back. 

At some point you do notice him start to move against you once more. His large hands are running along your body, as if committing it to memory. It’s not until he starts to focus on your nipples, rubbing his thumb in increasingly tight circles. Desire starts to zip through your sluggish veins and you whine, twitching in his loose hold. He seems to appreciate your reaction, nudging your head with his until you turn it to face him better. He catches your mouth in a consuming kiss, more coordinating than any previously but just as hungry. It's deep and filthy and leaves you vibrating for me.

His hand covers your cunt, still swollen and wet from your combined cum, in addition to the desire within you he’s stroking back up into a blaze.  Your sensitivity causes your hips to stutter as you’re caught between wanting more and being too tender for it. He loses interest in using his hand once you’re pushing towards him more than you are moving away. Pulling you down his body once more, his fur causing goosebumps to ripple across your flesh until you’re back where Temar at least seems to think you belong: in the cradle of his hips.

“Oh! Temar, you—mm, o-oh,” you attempt to say something to address the reignition of his desire, but before you can, his stiffening cock has managed to press against your cunt just right, moving through your lingering wetness and the spend that’s leaked out of you since said cock last left you.

“Mate,” he intones, lust certainly back into his voice. He pulls you up off the bed, securing you to his chest with the hand still clutching your chest. You’re not sure his other hand he's left your hip since it settled there. “More.”

“I, yes,” you reply, trying to pull yourself back together. Of course while in heat, he’d want to—you cut your own thoughts off with a surprised moan as he pushes back into you. Your fingers clench in the sheets as your sore, but slick muscles allow him back inside. The overstimulation is giving your head a rush. 

Luckily, this time Temar seems more deliberate and rhythmic with his thrusting rather than frenzied and desperate. His other hand resumes kneading your chest and rubbing against your stiffened nipple. The change in angle seems to keep him from going too fast and luckily requires none of your strength. In fact, the sensation of him fucking you while you lay limp in his grasp is quickly bring your own lust back at a dizzying pace you don’t expect.

He shifts and the angle gets even better, causing you to moan loudly in encouragement. You sag against him, your bones feel liquid from the way he’s been relentlessly thrusting within your cunt. His grunts and your pants fill the room. You’re still so hot, with sweat rolling down your back only to be absorbed into his fur. The sensation ensures you never forget who and what is taking you. You glory in it, in knowing he chose you.

You feel like he’s determined to fuck you until you can’t see straight, can’t move and you’re beyond willing for him to try. 

Gods, he’s going to make you forget your own name.

Something curls deep in you, winding around itself with each passing second he continues moving within you. He hunches forward, just enough to press against you, to change the angle some minuscule amount, and that spring releases. You fracture around him. As before, that appears to be all he needs to push as deep as he can and spill his seed in you one more time. The sensation of his release, of the desperate way he continues to try to fill you are the last things you remember before the pleasure pulls you under.

-/-

In the morning, or given the angle of the sun, the afternoon when you wake after a sleep longer than an hour, Temar surrounds you still. You’re in no rush as you take the time to regain your bearings and take stock of your aches. Without opening your eyes you can tell he’s looking at you. “Regret?” you ask simply, stock still in his hold, voice scratchy from overuse. You lost count of how many times aTemar fucked you last night. It's all a blur of heat and desire.

“No,” Temar rumbles, adjusting his hold. “Mine.” The added growl behind the words even in his human form sends a shiver down your spine and reignites the ache in your muscles in the most pleasing manner. 

It's more than you were hoping for, and yet you can’t help but ask, cautiously, “For the rest of your heat?” Some small part of you is still expecting to be sent on your way far sooner than you’d like to be. 

“I suppose you’ve convinced me,” Temar replies, the amusement in his voice unable to stay hidden under his put upon reluctance. “If you’ve made this foolish choice, I suppose I’ll let it stand—for now.”

“You may be stubborn, but I think we can agree I won this battle,” you point out. You finally blink your eyes open for long enough to look over your shoulder and meet his brown ones. He looks indulgent when you cup his cheek. “What makes you think you’ll fare better in the next one? I’m not sure I want for this to end with your heat.”

“I thought you’d say something of the sort,” Temar replies with a roll of eyes. He nips at your ear and pats you on the hip. “We can discuss after your bath.”

You hum, pleased immensely by the prospect. “See? Perhaps it’s you who is mine after all.”

---

Extra thanks to everyone who followed along with the original posting! all your comments and tags and asks were super encouraging!!

[obsessivevoidkitten]

Why do very few a/b/o fics ever talk about the omega's period?

Assuming it is a standard omegaverse where mpreg is possible for male omegas then wouldn't there be a period after a heat cycle that didn't lead to impregnation no matter the omega's gender?

So isn't it incumbent upon me, a serious blood kink enthusiast, to write something about how a gender neutral omega reader was on a camping trip with friends but then unexpected bad weather caused reader to get separated, then reader starts their period, and the scent of blood attracts a werebear or werewolf or some other such monster man to eat reader out and fuck them big stupid?

Isn't that my responsibility?

I thought of this idea before but didnt really want to do a fem reader. But then it hit me. Gender neutral omega reader. Perfect workaround. And I get to add the musk of a typical a/b/o fic.

[commandershepardvasfuckit]

Huh, suddenly there’s a lot of new people here

I write and post a lot of monster fucking and other nsfw stuff, minors do not interact

If you’re here for any of my general monster husband sort of posts, the guy in like 99% is the husband in the Arranged Marriage series linked below.

Nice to see new faces!

Fandom stuff:

Halsin bear day

Werebear!Halsin

Halsin animal traits

Bg3 companions’ handwriting

Halsin sexy consent thoughts

VERY NSFW Halsin sex headcanons

Halsin blowjob headcanons

Smut (and other fic):

Zandalari troll x fem!reader 1, 2, 3, 4 (just straight up porn without plot)

Daz’ai character sheet

Arranged Marriage- Zen’jan 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25 (m!troll x f!reader, fluff, angst, and smut)

Kingsguard- Ba’tual 1, 2, 3, 4 (m!troll x f!reader, smut)

Ref for Zen’jan

Zen tag (work in progress)

Orc village (fem!reader x orcs, fingering, oral-male receiving, spit roasting, public sex, group sex, breeding kink, size kink)

Wood nymphs

Halsin teaches Tav how to blow him

Lovey dovey bondage and oral (Halsin/Tav)

Bear instincts smut (Halsin/Tav)

Rewrite for “at my age” conversation with Halsin (elven Tav)

Musing about Halsin morning sex

The Dragon King’s Pet (original fic, nsfw, dead dove do not eat) 1, 2, 3, 4

[return-of-a-space-cowboy]

🧚‍♀️ Anon

Goldilocks and the Three Bears

Joseph, Jotaro and Johnathan are Werebears or it’s just Johnathan and he considers you his ‘Little Bear’ because of how small and defenseless you are (Or it was Joseph who coined the term)

Or maybe it’s just Johnathan vs Dio and they’re Werebears?

Or it can be Johnathan vs Dio, Joseph vs Kars and Jotaro vs DIO (All Separate)

Darling accidentally enters their territory and finds JoJo’s home (To escape from the storm), seeing that it’s messy she cleans the place up, however she feels extreme exhaustion after all that she endured and falls asleep on the huge couch

JoJo is very shocked seeing a Human in his home! However he wouldn’t toss her out as that would be very ungentlemanly of him to do that, especially since it’s going to storm very hard for a few days

I’m totally not thinking that Werebear!Johnathan would cuddle Darling like she’s his personal Teddy Bear after getting attached to her

OR

Platonic Johnathan and Erina as Werebears with Reader being a Human Child who got lost after running away from her dysfunctional family? (They’ve been wanting a child for a very long time) Maybe they call Darling ‘Little Bear’ because she’s a Cub compared to them (Maybe she’s around 6-10 years old?)

I know a little bit about bears, like how the males leave the mother bears after they mate, however because this is Johnathan I feel like he would want to be part of the child rearing process (He would be very overprotective)

Don’t mind me, I’m totally not using this as an excuse for the idea of the JoJo’s and Villains to have Bear Ears on their heads *Lies* 😅

My mind was sorta scrambled and pretty much everywhere when I thought about this

Ooh interesting.

I think Jonathan, Joseph and Jotaro would be good (have them as siblings in this au)

I was originally thinking sloth bears but they aren't so much hunters, so I'm going with American black bears instead.

Of course seeing darling sleeping in their house causes a back an forward between the siblings.

Jotaro being the stern yet cautious suggests they have darling leave to protect their meanwhile Jonathan and Joseph believe that darling should stay because of the stormy weather. Jonathan being the gentleman his while Joseph has alterier motives.

Of course Joseph is straight to flirting before the other two are quick to pull him away. Jonathan thanks darling for cleaning the kitchen and living room (he feels guilty as he had plans of cleaning) and offers to let darling stay till the weather clears up, even offering his bed. Not just because he's a gentleman but also to avoid her from finding out about their other forms.

Of course Jonathan and Joseph are immediately fawning over darling. If darling is intimidated by Jotaro they will assure her that It's nothing personal, Jotaro is just the abrasive type and he'll warm up with time.

Jonathan offers up warm meals, even dinner which is something they don't partake in their human forms. When darling is about to go to sleep he tells darling to not be concerned by any sounds as bears tend to roam around the surrounding property at night.

The rain doesn't let up for days, even when it does calm momentarily the ground is far too muddy to trek safely.

At this point Jotaro begins to start hovering around darling, which the other two find endearing. In honesty they don't seem to mind the fact that they're all developing feeling for the same person except that Jonathan and Jotaro not to happy with Joseph's forwardness, which Joseph away tells them that if they want something they have to grab it by the reigns and not expect to get her attention if they're just going to sit around and hope she reciprocates.

Unfortunately Jonathan does agree to certain extent with what Joesph is saying. If darling wasn't already flustered by one man trying to swoon her then she definitely is now with Jonathan's flattery.

However one early morning darling wakes up as they return home (luckily in their human forms. Unluckily that they're all probably naked as to not wanting their clothes to be ripped during their transformation) covered in mud and Jonathan as well was Joesph covered in deep cuts. Darling has questions but puts them to the side to quick help Jotaro with preparing hot water to clean them and dress their wounds.

"So what happened?" Darling would ask while bring them fresh clothing.

"Theives, luckily we were able to chase them away before they stole anything" Jotaro would lie but darling is still sceptical. With Jonathan and Joseph in bed recovering darling offers to help around the house.

Darling decides to stay up and watchs them from the stairway. She manages to see them transform and accidentally catches their attention. They can't talk in this form so darling is under the impression that they're attacking her and she trips and hurts herself. Leaving her at the mercy of the monsters in front of her.

They probably have her held down for awhile to calm her before she passes out. She knows their secret now and with monster hunters keen on killing their kind they can't let darling leave, not that they had plans to earlier.

[queenquinzel715]

1. Werebear Toric pt 1

Wrd count 2,313

Warnings: Angst in the beginning, implied smutt, fluff, women power lol

(Y/n) P.O.V

Finding your mate is supposed to be an unworldly thing, and is cherished by many people. Being the daughter of the moon goddess that made me extremely excited to find mine, because I knew my mother would find me the perfect one. When I actually found my mate I thought he was this sexy, powerful man. He was the son of an Alpha, and he had so much confidence. I felt we would make a great couple, and when he brought me back to his pack I thought he was happy.

I was extremely wrong. Once he brought me back I met his parents, and his girlfriend. I understand he wasn't a monk, so I just assumed he would break up with her. He wouldn't let me stay in his room, because he said he wanted to get to know me better before completing the mate bond. He would just spend time with me during the afternoon after training.

"(Y/n) honey why aren't you outside?" His mother, Agetha asks confused. "I thought training was about to start soon."

"I don't go to training. Minson told me to stay inside until he came to get me." I tell her truthfully.

She looks at me confused, and it seems like something hits her. She takes my hand firmly but softly, and leans me upstairs. She walks us toward Minson's room, and I hear the most awful high pitched moan squeal sound. I stop in my tracks as Agetha gives a Luna growl. I can't believe I am given this type of mate. When Agetha marched inside the room I ran outside, and shifted. I howl in agony as I come to a stop in the middle of the woods.

I stay there until the sun starts to set. I slowly walk back to the house, and grab a blanket that is kept behind the trees. When I walk inside it's deathly quiet. I just go to my room to put clothes on. I have so many questions in my head, but they stop when Agetha knocks on the door.

"(Y/n) I honestly can't tell you how sorry I am." She hugs me in a tight embrace. "Are you okay? I mean hurting?" She's the sweetest woman.

"I feel okay, just confused." I sit on the edge of my bed. "Why even bring me here, why not just reject me?" I talk out loud.

She sighs as she hugs me from the side, but before she says anything Stewart, Minson's father walks in. He puts his hands on his hips while shaking his head.

"I even tried using the alpha command to get him to break the bond, but his heartless ass won't do it." He growls in frustration.

"Then I will." I stand up. "I will break it, and I will go home." I give them a soft smile.

They follow after me as I walk toward Minson's room. As I go to knock it opens, and Priscilla steps out.

"What are you doing here? I thought you'd leave by now." She giggles. "You might want to leave soon, you wouldn't want to see your mate celebrate his baby shower with another woman would you?" She laughs like she said something hilarious.

"You are pregnant?" Agetha asks, shocked. "That stupid boy."

"Of course I am. We haven't left each other since he's been back." She taunts.

"ALRIGHT!" I shout pushing her back. "Malet guol imotrell qet ne bentul!" I chant the old magic of chaos.

She falls onto the couch with a shocked expression. I go to finish my punishment chant to remove her bond to any future mate, and then Minson walks in with a deep growl. I lock eyes with him, and I feel something completely snap. My body begins to glow white.

"(Y/n) stop!" I hear my mother's voice.

She appears like she's walking in from the balcony, and has a look of pure concern. I can feel my body fighting with itself, but when my mother puts her arms around me I collapse. My mother lays me on the couch as she stands tall. My mother steps toward the scared couple.

"You stupid boy. You have caused so much imbalance, and caused a future goddess to break into chaos." She turns to his parents. "I will give you a choice as his parents, and as a thank you for treating my daughter as your own. Either he loses his wolf, or you chain him until I deem him free. As for that pack whore, she's to be outed to the rogues until she gives birth, because she has her own problems ahead." Mother uses her Goddess voice, making everything she says an unbreakable punishment.

"Moon mother, I would like to chain him, so the pack will know he will never be Alpha." Stewart timidly tells my mother, but still has a strong voice.

"What?! Father I haven't done.." Minson tries to argue, but my goddess roar stops him.

"Her chaos has been let go, because of what YOU did. I knew I shouldn't have given her a mate, but her father wanted her to have a normal love life." She scoffs as she rants. "You have no idea how much pain it takes for a Goddess to lose for her chaos to take over!" She starts losing her composer the more she speaks to him.

That night he is forcefully carried, in front of the whole pack, to the underground dungeon. The pack watches on as they yell at him. Priscilla is shamefully walking behind him, sobbing like it would help her. Once everyone learned what I actually am they sent gifts of apology for their leader.

The next morning, my mother and I went back to my father's kingdom, which is now mine since I am of age with no mate. Father apparently wanted me to be normal, but I guess he didn't think of me getting my heart broken. Once home I immediately went to work on the kingdom.

1 Year later

It's been almost a year since I got back home. My kingdom is widely known for trading, and its unbreakable military. This whole year I've never stopped working, or studying more strategies. Honestly it kept my mind in order, so I could lock up my chaos.

With everything going so well I decided to throw a ball in honor of not only my success, but the kingdom's. I invited everyone from the townspeople, to Minsons parents. Throughout the year Agetha and I would send letters to each other to make sure everything is going alright. I even allowed Stewart to trade in the market, and my ports.

Once I got back to my kingdom I heard of this Orc woman, Kiva, who does amazing work. Sadly I only went to the kingdom for a short visit, so I didn't get to get any dresses. However I sent my dresser to Silentdew to see if this Kiva could make me a dress, and she delivered. She made me a dress fit for a goddess. When I first got it I couldn't stop looking at it. My jeweler gifted me with a lovely crown of stones he calls moonstones.

I could hear the violins playing as I came down the stairs. The ballroom was already filled with so many different people. As I walked in everyone stopped, and bowed. I waved for the music to start, and as the piano picked back up everyone got back to dancing. I couldn't stop my smile as I danced around the couples to get to my throne. While I start to sit Minson's parents come walking to me with wide smiles.

"Oh (y/n). Everything just looks amazing." Agetha rants as she hugs me.

"Thank you so much for coming." I tell them both.

"We are so greatly appreciative of you allowing us to come." Stewart bows to me.

"Oh please you tw…" I'm stopped by a whiff of pine and rain, making my head snap up.

"(Y/n)?" Agetha asks, concerned.

"Um… excuse me for a moment." I walk to the edge of the room, following where that smell is coming from.

When I tell you time itself stopped when the loudest, deepest growl came from toward my throne. Everyone stops, facing toward my throne, and standing where I once stood is a man. I almost whine when I see him, I can't even describe him properly. He is the tallest, strongest looking man I've ever seen. His honey-colored eyes move around the room until they catch mine. He holds his hand out to me as I take timid steps. People part for me as I let my wolf do what she needed. She makes me rush to his side, and just hide in his chest. Everyone starts to cheer when his hand rests on my head.

The ball picks back up as he holds me to his side. I was moved there when he walked us to the side where the curtain would cover us. I'm almost too scared to actually look at him, because what if he is just as vile as my first mate.

"Babybee, can you look at me?" His voice is so deep, but soothing.

I take a deep breath before I look up at his honey brown eyes, and my body all down to my soul relaxes. He moves his large hand to hold the side of my face as he smiles at me. I can feel myself getting bashful from him just looking at me.

"My name is Toric. Could you tell me your name?" He leans onto the wall, making me lean against his chest.

"(Y/n)." I timidly tell him.

"I'm glad to have found you (y/n)." His voice is so soothing. "To believe I almost didn't come when my brother invited me." He doesn't take his eyes off my face.

"I finally have a mate. I can actually feel it this time." I take a deep breath of his scent.

"This time?" He steps back confused.

I sigh. "Come with me."

I take his hand to walk him to my office. His big form takes up the whole couch as he sits down. I can't feel my body get nervous to the point I'm shaking while I shut the door, my back leaning against it.

"Toric I don't know how to begin to explain." I sit on the edge of my desk, locking my hands together. "You…I… okay. I'm not just any wolf. My mother is the moon mother." I test him with that, but he doesn't even move an eyebrow. "I have had a mate before, but he wasn't the best mate. My mother and his parents had him locked up for punishment. That was a year ago." I look down at my hands. "I didn't think she'd give me another mate."

I snap my head up to him standing. I honestly thought he was leaving, but he walks toward me with a blank expression.

"What did he do to you?" He simply asks.

"He brought me to his pack only to get his girlfriend pregnant." I look into his eyes with honesty. "I even told him to reject, his father even tried to use his Alpha command, but he just kept on." I sigh wanting to reach for him.

"Tell me." He rests his hands next to my hips after a couple of moments. "What feels different now than before?" He asks, leaning down to my height, practically squatting down like I am a child.

"I feel safe, I want to constantly touch you. With him I worried if I said the wrong thing he'd be angry." I slowly move my hands to his warm arms. "I didn't mind being away from him, but with you just the thought of you leaving this room makes me want to grab hold of you." I look into his honey brown eyes as I give him my thoughts.

"I will give you anything you wish Honeybee just actually say my name." He leans his forehead against mine. "You said it so quickly.

"Toric." I giggle at him. "Does that mean everything is okay?" I anxiously ask him.

"Honeybee, I am your mate. He doesn't matter." My legs open when he pulls me closer to him. "Besides…" He stands to his normal height. "My name sounds better coming out of your mouth than his."

"You don't even know his name." I slid off my desk to stand in front of him.

"Doesn't matter." He waves his hand while he walks to the door. "Let's get this party over with, so I can have my mate to myself." He keeps his growl low as I walk toward him.

I rest my hand on his chest giving his honey eyes one last look before stepping out of the room. However I didn't get far. I'm pushed against the wall with Toric lifting me to his height. I grip into his hair as his lips connect with mine. His arms tighten around me with a final push of his lips.

"Sorry Honey Bee, I couldn't stop." I giggle at his bashful face.

"It's okay Toric." I smile at him as he slowly lowers me back to the floor.

We rejoined the ball, getting many questions as to where we were, but Toric would turn the conversation. I couldn't leave the warmth from under his arm. Minson's parents introduced themselves. I told him how we stay in touch, and how sweet they were to me while I was with their pack. He thanked them for their kindness. As the night ended Toric gave word to his brother, who is a full werewolf and a Duke for King Jule of Silentdew, to send his belongings here.

Pt2 is up!

[monkeymanproductions]

Waiting For October - Casting Call!

Hello, voice actor types! Just a reminder that our casting call for Waiting For October is still open through June 8th! Audition for any of our monsters below where you feel you would fit - and please note that we work specifically to provide opportunities to marginalized voices!

CHARLENE (Lake Monster, middle-aged female voice, she/her pronouns)

ALAN-A-DALE (Skeleton, adult voice - British accent, decent singing voice, gay, he/him pronouns)

HODAG (Large Shaggy Monster, adult voice, nonbinary, he/they pronouns)

BERGEN (Troll, middle-aged or older voice - Scandinavian accent preferred, nonbinary, she/they pronouns)

AUNCLE LANTERN (Scarecrow Golem, ageless voice, agender, xe/xir pronouns)

FREDERICK (Cat, any voice, they/them pronouns)

CAMBERT (Lake Monster, younger male voice, he/him pronouns)

BAT GIRL (Night Monster, teenage trans female voice, ace/aro, she/her pronouns)

KARIM (Werebear, SWANA/MENA actor, trans actor, any voice, any pronouns)

WEREWOLVES (Werewolves, trans actors, young adult voices, any pronouns)

And more!

[sils-reading-list]

Kiiiiyaaaaa!!! I cannot wait until the next part is out! You have this lazy lil couch muffin feeling the need to samba! Muchisimas gracias mí viajero favorito!

Vincente (Werebear)

Rating: Teen Relationship: Female Human/Male Werebear Additional Tags: Exophilia, Werebear, Salsa Dancing Content Warnings: Bad Breakups, Past Cheating, Jealousy Words: 2354

A fun commission for @isabert91! A woman returns to California for work and meets a charismatic Salsa dancer, but jealousy from past betrayals threatens to derail the budding relationship. Please reblog and leave feedback!

The Traveler’s Masterlist

God, you had missed the beach.

You’d grown up in California, but had been living in the midwest for a long time for work. Recently, a new position in California opened up and you had decided to transfer back, and you couldn’t have been happier with the decision. The first day, before you’d even unpacked, you bought a pretty floral bikini with a sheer tie-up skirt and went to the beach for the first time in years.

It was a beautiful day; completely cloudless sky but it wasn’t too hot, there was a nice breeze, and the beach wasn’t too crowded. The first thing that caught your attention was a Salsa exhibition in progress on a stage close to the boardwalk. There were half a dozen couples dancing to a lively song and a crowd of people watching and cheering for them. A smile crossed your face and you went to join the audience.

Keep reading

[mumms-the-word]

Okay don’t come for me Halsin-enthusiasts and werebear truthers because like for the most part I agree with everything you say, and this is not one of my usual well-thought out deep dives, this is me rambling because I have questions BUT

One thing I love that hasn’t really been talked about (unless I missed it) is how good Halsin is with kids and how that’s distinctly NOT a male bear trait? Like, actually, Halsin deciding to adopt 30 kids actually kind of goes against what he says is his well-defined and very established nature. It’s very un-bear-like of him to want to raise kiddos

I mean maybe it’s a female bear trait but like hear me out

Male bears tend to mate with female bears and then leave. In some rare cases they will outright attack and kill cubs to mate with female bears (but this doesn’t happen often because mama bears WILL fight you and male bears aren’t looking for a fight they’re looking for fun). But for the most part a male bear dips out after mating and does his own thing for several months until it’s mating season again and then he’s like “knock knock guess whose back again no I will not be paying child support”

So like

If Halsin is a werebear, do wearbears have different behaviors? If not wearbear, then what else is influencing this desire to build a big family and settle down?

Are Halsin’s affections for/talent for raising a whole gaggle of kiddos a wood elf thing, a Druid thing, or something else?

I mean it could just be that this is an accidental overlooked thing despite that Halsin’s writer(s) are pretty intentional about writing him with a lot of “haha what a bear thing to do” traits (loving honey, etc) but we can probably headcanon our way into an explanation right

I’m only making a big deal out of this confusion in my mind because Halsin makes such a BIG DEAL about things being “in his nature” or “because of his nature” and so on. And obviously his nature is influenced by many things, not just his cave bear form, his identity as a druid, or him being a wood elf. I just think it’s interesting that for all his talk about stuff being “in his nature” and insinuating that at 350 he’s kind of established everything he likes and dislikes, that maybe he forgets he’s still capable of growth and change

On the same note, I find it so interesting that when you romance him he’s specifically like “the wolf mates for life, but the bear roams free and partners as its instinct dictates. I need to stay true to my nature and you to yours.” I mean, he’s being a bit reductive about wolves and bears alike here, but my point is that he’s constructing his polyamory as a bear-like behavior instead of being like “I was raised this way” as a wood elf, because wood elves are super poly too and that could have easily been the reference he went with

If I recall, his preference for roaming is also considered a bear-like behavior? In the dryad love test, the question “When is he most comfortable” has two correct answers: when he’s in the form of a bear, clad in nothing but fur (he says that’s a fair assumption but not the truest answer) OR saying that comfort doesn’t come naturally because he’s always restless and roaming (he approves of this answer more and says “Comfort is for the farm animal, snug in its pen.”). Roaming is…well a trait for any wild animal, but could be coded to a male bear specifically I guess…but anyway at the very least he makes this connection to being like a roaming wild animals over a settled domestic animal

So we have a Halsin who admits that roaming and avoiding comfort are things that are true to his nature…and yet he decides he’s going to build a community/commune out in the ruins of Thaniel’s lands and raise like 30 kids on his own/semi-communally. Which is not really a bear or wood elf thing to do (if we’re being super reductive about bears and wood elves, neither of which are monoliths, and also I could be wrong about wood elves because I can’t find much about their familial structures)

I’m not saying it’s inconsistent—because it’s not inconsistent to Halsin’s overall character. The minute I heard Halsin say that was his plan I was like “this is absolutely something you would do you great mad bear take me with you” (and then I was upset when I couldn’t go with him because it was patch 3 days and I was SAD). Like if you listen to him talk enough in Act 3, especially after visiting Jaheira’s house, that man has wanted a family for forever, and he has a big heart for refugees, the displaced, and children in particular

So, speculation, I think Halsin choosing to build a community and go from 0-100 on the family-building process is actually indicative of him realizing that now that he’s not an archdruid, and now that the shadow curse is fixed, he can remake himself into something of HIS choosing. Something that isn’t “dictated by nature” but aligns with his desires and motivations as a complex person. He says comfort is for the farm animal, but he builds a home in nature where his children will be safe and comfortable. He’s not making them a big nomadic tribe, they’re all in one safe space together. That could be seen as contradictory, but instead I think it just shows that he’s still a malleable person who needs a minute to grow into the idea that he can now be whatever he wants

And he chooses to be Daddy Halsin. He doesn’t even wait to see if his romanced partner (if he has one) is coming with him on this sudden about-face venture. He’s like “I’ve got nine wagons of kids who are already calling me Daddy and we’re leaving in two hours” like this dream is SO IMPORTANT for him. It overdrives nature and druidic duty and everything else. It very nearly overrides his love for his romanced partner

I mean it did kind of override it in earlier patches but the epilogue now lets us join him and patch 6 now let’s us openly be like “Halsin you ass I’m coming with you” when I say I slammed that button so hard let me TELL YOU but anyway his romance is not really going to influence his dream of having a family. He’s gonna raise those kids whether his current romantic partner there or not (but he will be disappointed and sad about his partner not joining him tho because obviously that stings)

Anyway I’m just rambling at this point. My question is this: do you think that Halsin’s desire for kids comes from a specific “part of his nature” (bear, werebear, druid, wood elf) or does it come from some other part of him as a person, or do you think it’s a moment where he realizes he can just decide things for himself and that he doesn’t always have to let nature dictate who he is?

Thoughts??

If you made it this far congrats you get a Golden Halsin :’)

[rewritale]

sam heughan, bisexual, trans male + he/him → isn’t that ivor mac fergus of dunbroch? i hear that they're merida from brave. i hear they’re 44. they seem to be audacious & passionate, but also juvenile & restless. their aesthetics include notching an arrow to make an impossible shot, a dirty traveling cloak and worn boots & riding horseback under the starry night sky.

BASIC

FULL NAME: Ivor mac Fergus of DunBroch NICKNAME(S): N/A AGE: 44 BIRTHDAY: December 2nd SPECIES: Human TALE: Brave ETHNICITY: White (Scottish) OCCUPATION: Adventurer / Prince of DunBroch GENDER & PRONOUNS: Transmale & he/him ORIENTATION: Bisexual

APPEARANCE

FACE CLAIM: Sam Heughan HEIGHT: 6’3’’ WEIGHT: 185 lbs HAIR COLOR: Red / Dirty Blonde EYE COLOR: Blue DOMINANT HAND: Ambidextrous SCARS: Callused hands and fingers; many battle scars including the one from being clawed by a bear; a thin, linear scar on his left cheek from an archery accident TATTOOS: The Clan DunBroch symbol (a sword with four circles) on his left chest; three entwined bears tattoo on his right shoulder PIERCINGS: N/A

RELATIONSHIPS

FATHER: King Fergus MOTHER: Queen Elinor SIBLINGS: Prince Harris, Hubert & Hamish (younger brothers) SPOUSE: N/A CHILDREN: N/A FAMILY: N/A

PERSONALITY

MBTI: ESFP ENNEAGRAM: Type 1w2 MORAL ALIGNMENT: Chaotic Good ELEMENT: Fire SIN: Wrath, Pride VIRTUE: Diligence, Kindness QUALITIES:  Audacious, Passionate, Righteous FLAWS: Headstrong, Juvenile, Restless FEAR(S): Making the wrong choice, being wrong, being corrupted and becoming evil INSPIRATION: Merida (Brave), Aloy (Horizon Series), Robin Hood (English folklore), Edgin Darvis (Dungeons & Dragons: Honor Among Thieves), Green Arrow / Oliver Queen (DC Comics), Korra (Avatar: The Legend of Korra), Trevor Belmont (Castlevania (2017 TV series))

BIOGRAPHY

Ivor, the firstborn descendant of King Fergus, was named Merida at birth. As the princess of DunBroch, his destiny was decided for him even before he was born. He was betrothed to some boy he had never met before to strengthen the alliance between the clans. But he never wanted to be a princess, to be like his mother married to some king. He wanted to be… well, himself. He always felt wrong inside his own body except when he was out in the woods. Exploring, hunting, practicing archery instead of lessons after lessons about how to be a lady. He didn’t want to be a lady. If he had a choice, he wanted to be like his father, a mighty warrior who fought the demon bear Mor’du, the Bear King who protected his people.

Though his parents wanted him to get married as soon as he reached adulthood, Merida fought tooth and claw, competing for his own hand in marriage during Highland games, running away from home or going into hiding. At least when the triplets were born, the wee devils bought him some time by stirring up so much trouble at the castle and took some heat off of him. His parents never gave up, however, especially his mother. After one particularly terrible argument, he ran away into the woods again. Except this time, his fate manifested in the form of wisps and guided him to an old witch. The princess struck a deal with the witch, asking for a spell to change his fate. The witch gave him a cup of magical tea and a blueberry cake; the tea to turn him into a prince, and the cake to help him convince his mother if being a prince doesn’t work. Both spells worked like a charm. Merida was transformed into a prince, and the magic brought him and his mother closer. Eventually, at least, after shenanigans involving his mother turning into a bear and trying to undo that spell, his baby brothers accidentally eating the cake and becoming werebears from its side effect, trying to stop King Fergus from killing the queen… and all that.

That was only the beginning of the story, a prologue if you will. Merida, now going by as Ivor, felt responsible for what happened to his brothers. So the prince left the kingdom with the triplets to help them learn how to control their inner beasts. Once his brothers were old enough, he ventured out into the world traveling far and wide hoping to find a way to perhaps revert the spell on his brothers. A hero at heart, he was often stopped by those in need of helping hands, saving people, fighting off invaders and slaying monsters. But Ivor never stayed in one place for too long, always eager to move on and find a new place to explore.

But destiny called him back home again. Mor’du was wreaking havoc in DunBroch and the princes were summoned to help the kingdom deal with the Demon Bear once and for all. Ivor and his werebear brothers fought fiercely against Mor’du at a fated stone circle, and at the end of the battle, one of the stones fell on the Demon Bear. To everyone’s surprise, from underneath a man emerged. Crínán Na Tuaighe, the cursed prince of the lost kingdom. But at any rate, the terrifying reign of Mor’du was over and Ivor was happy to leave with his brothers again…

Except now that he is in his forties, his parents expect him to settle down and succeed the throne. To find a spouse, start a family and rule DunBroch. Though Ivor doesn’t want to, he is mature enough to understand his parents and reluctantly agree to consider settling down. Especially now that the portals opened between different realms, the new adventures are calling to him but he can’t go gallivanting like he used to.

POWER

Ivor is a master sharpshooter, a skilled warrior and seasoned adventurer. Though he does not possess any supernatural strength or (meaningful) magical abilities, his years of experience and training honed his combat skills to a superhuman level.

While he can wield most weapons with ease, bows and arrows are always his first choice of weapon. As an exceptional archer, he can take a shot while running and jumping, on horseback or even hanging upside down.

His aim with bows is impeccable which stems from his ability to predict the movement of the targets and the environment around him in a split second. He can measure the distance between one point to another accurately just by glancing, and calculate the speed of the moving target and how long it will take to reach a certain point.

His sense of sight and ability to process visual input are heightened and he can see anything from a great distance away with amazing clarity and details. Even when his sight is limited, he can sense threats or targets without needing to see them.

When in melee, Ivor prefers shortswords, short spears or daggers, and he is also skilled in hand-to-hand combat.

He is a veteran horseback rider, and is experienced with fighting on horseback.

While Ivor has no obvious magical gift, he is sensitive to the presence of spirits and possesses an uncanny insight as if he sees into people’s souls.

Wisps and other minor spirits are drawn to him, and sometimes guide him. He can communicate with them, gathering information or finding paths with their help.

His intuition is incredibly sharp and he often gets a read on people instinctively. This helps him in combat as well, allowing him to predict their movements more accurately.

He has an impeccable sense of direction and often finds his way to the destination without knowing how.

HEADCANON

“Mac Fergus” simply means “the son of Fergus” and his clan name is closer to his surname. So his name would be Ivor DunBroch.

Thanks to the magic potion he drank, his body has male genitalia.

His brothers were born when he was in his early 20s, and since he raised them after their departure from the kingdom, he sometimes acts more like a father to them than an older brother.

Ivor was taught how to play musical instruments and how to weave as a child, and studied literature and singing. Not that he is any good at those. But he enjoys weaving and knitting, since it is more tactile and useful.

Although he was taught the proper manners and etiquettes befit a prince, Ivor acts casual and informal enough that not many would assume he is a prince.

Ivor has no romantic bone in his body and he is often called dense and can’t pick up flirting. He is more interested in archery and horseback riding than sexual encounters.

A terrible cook. Thankfully Ivor is not a picky eater and he will eat anything.

[ao3feed-tf2ships]

Red Kinktoberfest

read it on the AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/60268993

by NumberOneFanOfDoktor (UpInFlamesWriting), UpInFlamesWriting

This is a collection of 500 word long short stories for Kinktober. Trans Medic x cis heavy. Medic is salmacian/altersex, so has both a vagina and a penis.

Words: 2246, Chapters: 4/31, Language: English

Series: Part 7 of Misha's Fanfictions

Fandoms: Team Fortress 2

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Medic (Team Fortress 2), Heavy (Team Fortress 2)

Relationships: Heavy/Medic (Team Fortress 2)

Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Established Heavy/Medic (Team Fortress 2), Smut, Fluff and Smut, Trans Male Character, Character Study, Trans Medic (Team Fortress 2), Medic Has Breasts (Team Fortress 2), Heavy Loves Medic (Team Fortress 2), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Collars, Voyeurism, Coming In Pants, Nipple Play, Nipple Licking, Service Top, Massage, Human Furniture, Vibrators, Penis In Vagina Sex, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Consensual Somnophilia, Oviposition, Overstimulation, Bondage, Rope Bondage, Clothing Kink, Breeding, Come Inflation, Belly Bulge, Drugged Sex, Master/Pet, Squirting and Vaginal Ejaculation, Face-Fucking, Face-Sitting, Belly Rubs, Pregnant Sex, Trans Pregnancy, Blood Kink, Surgery, Size Kink, First Time, Praise Kink, Biting, Cock Warming, Large Cock, Healing Sex, Magical Healing Vagina, Butt Plugs, Voice Kink, Lingerie, Bathing/Washing, Glory Hole, Sadism, Masochism, BDSM, Heavy BDSM, Caning, Lactation Kink, Male Lactation, Dry Humping, Spanking, Crying, Dacryphilia, Omorashi, Werebear Heavy (Team Fortress 2), Were-Creatures, Knotting, Human/Monster Romance, Unrealistic Sex

read it on the AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/60268993