#species: werebear
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
newhavenrp ¡ 2 years ago
Text
Tumblr media
Is that KIT CONNOR? No, that's EROS STAVES. The 21 year old FIRE MOON WEREBEAR ALPHA MALE is a MED STUDENT / EMT. If you ask their friends, they're known to be OPTIMISTIC & GOOD BALL, but they urge you to be cautious, because they're also known to be NAÏVE & IMPULSIVE. Their friends also say that they're into ORAL, BREEDING & SEMI/PUBLIC SEX but don't even think about trying GORE, WATERSPORTS & SCAT with them.
Tumblr media
Born to Tyr and Nix Staves, Eros grew up surrounded by a loving and supporting family. Growing up in New Haven, he never felt like he didn't belong. And on those rare cases where he did, Eros always had his two dads to remind him. He works as an EMT, following the footsteps of his father, Tyr. He finds time to study for his finals at his dad Nix's bar, Pantheon. However, he can never say no to helping him out around the bar. That young werebear strength is put to use; rearranging tables, chairs, and even carrying shipments across town for the bar.
6 notes ¡ View notes
crystal-grotto ¡ 1 year ago
Text
//On a totally unrelated note, I have an old Heroforge for Hagel if anyone is curious about that
5 notes ¡ View notes
moonshine-nightlight ¡ 5 months ago
Text
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!!
495 notes ¡ View notes
yearningaces ¡ 1 year ago
Text
Hrrmmmmnnn
Been thinking about how different monsters might express affection and care, different important traits. How swans greet their partners with the intricate head swinging, how cats groom each other, how horses follow the one they trust the most to guide them, how humans hold hands, do you see what I mean?
But monsters
What about Driders that will use the silk of their webbing to craft intricate tapestries or blankets for their dearest companion. Taking days meticulously plucking at every thread to perfection
How about Giants who are so much bigger than their dear one and can carry them in their palm with the ease of carrying a few grapes. But one day they sit down and methodically add breast pockets to every shirt or jacket so their dearest one can be right next to their heart at all times
There's also werebear that focus so much on the act of sharing their plate of food and it's such a bold declaration of care and love for the one they share with, especially if they pick what they will take off of their plate and offer it to their loved one without said person even asking
I'm also partial to Multiheaded creatures like hydras or Cerberuses who express care with each head memorizing something their favorite person finds interesting because with so many different heads with different personalities it leads to conflict of interest so to them, memorizing what someone else likes is important because they'd want each individual head to be remembered individually as well
And I've already mentioned it before but selkies focus so much on warmth. They brave warmth and to offer it to their dearest one is such an expression of affection, as well as saying someone makes them warm, or being told they make someone warm, it is so vital
I will keep saying it, I adore odd expressions of affection that mean huge things depending on species
524 notes ¡ View notes
werecreature-addicted ¡ 9 months ago
Note
What's your favorite type of werecreature? (bonus points if you say why in graphic detail)
I think obviously, werewolves, they're a classic, and I enjoy the idea of a pack dynamic and the kind of inherent possessiveness that comes with the idea that wolves mate for life. I also am a sucker for the DEBUNKED alpha and omega stuff. I like the idea of a big strong pack alpha being soft for his mate, and or a more submissive shy omega werewolf being a little insecure that they aren't "man" enough for their partner. and uhm... you know... knots.
The second most popular, Werebears. Size kink go brrrrr. Just a huge guy who loves to eat you out and insists you stay in and cuddle for all of winter and who has a killer berry cobbler recipe. Also, Halsin BG3 is very good and I'm just going to call him a werebear.
WereRavens are super underrated. To me, they come off as fancy and like high-class werecreatures who spoil their darlings with jewelry and shiny gold coins. They have more than enough to spoil you with so why not? you look so pretty glittering like that. Also just imagine those gorgeous big black wings that wrap around you during intimate moments keeping you safe.
I'm of two minds on werecats. I'm not as much into werecats who transform into small like house cats. but big cats? leopards and panthers and tigers? yes, please. I want a lover who can transform into something twice my size and could easily kill me. and depending on the big cat they might still be able to purr.
those are my faves, but feel free to of course ask me about any more specific were-species. :3
196 notes ¡ View notes
captain-pheonix ¡ 5 months ago
Note
Am I allowed to ask for Heavy Medic and Scout (separate or together, doesn't matter!) with a werebear reader? It's basically just like a werewolf but instead of turning into a wolf they turn into a bear.
A/n: seems like it could be fun, so why not! I’m otherhearted plus a huge animal nerd, so I want to try making it close to reality while not losing its theme. Doing more of the half headcannons/drabble thing because I think it works well with this. Hope you enjoy, thank you for requesting!!
Heavy, Scout, and Medic with a gn!werebear!reader
Tumblr media
Heavy:
- he is both shocked and totally ready to fight you like the huge grizzlies back home when he witnesses you transform
- stuck between the morality of killing you/fighting you and not hurting you in any way
- in your bear form, even if you’re mean when you’re a bear, you’re probably scared of this huge, intimidating guy
- if you can still be mostly yourself when you’re a bear, you’re very scared he’s gonna hurt you, because you’ve probably seen the things he can wrestle
- if he doesn’t see you transform, good luck that guy is messing you up until you turn back
- when he finds out it’s you, he immediately tends to your wounds and profusely apologizes.
- you clear up all his confusion
- if you’re mean when you’re a bear, Heavy stops you from causing any damage to anything or anyone
- even if your apologizing like there’s no tomorrow after you transform, Heavy says it’s all ok and it isn’t in your control
Medic:
- not stuck between the morality at all
- when you eventually turn human again he’s like “ok you’re going to the lab, I’m studying you so you don’t break anything”
- could totally develop a serum that you could be injected with to temporarily stop transforming
- absolutely fascinated by you
- thinks you’re a marvel of science
- knowing your secret and being studied brings you closer with him
- he figures out what triggers you to turn into a bear, and what state your mind is in while you’re transformed
- tries to invent some medical devices with Engineer to control your bear form
Scout:
- whatever species of bear you turn into, he’s definitely going to secretly think it’s so cool
- screams like a little girl when you first transform
- if you don’t transform in front of him he’s probably like “OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD THEY JUST GOT EATEN BY SOME RANDOM ASS BEAR IM GONNA DIE”
- dude runs away from you wether or not you’re friendly or in control when in bear form
- everyone thinks he’s crazy when he tells them he saw this huge bear in your room, so he kind of starts believing them
- of course he sees you as a bear again and starts to realize no one’s ever going to believe him
- when he notices you get really scared of his screaming he starts resting his limits, thinking he’s a tough guy
- notices things in the bear’s personality that remind him of you
- starts connecting the dots, you tell him your big secret
- thinks it’s totally cool and will defend you and protect your secret
- starts roughhousing with you as a bear and immediately regrets it after getting accidentally slashed a few times
- learns to like and live with your bear form
65 notes ¡ View notes
alpaca-clouds ¡ 3 months ago
Text
You know, I will endlessly rage on the topic of how BG3 does allow for so many ways to play the game - but not for a fullon pacifist run. You know, speaking as someone who often plays pacifist TTRPG characters. But I do understand that the game does not want to keep like 50% of its game mechanics from you - meaning all the battle mechanics and stuff. I still wish that at least some of the boss battles could be avoided through negotiations, but I understand that a fullon pacifist run is just not something that a video game intends to offer.
However... There really is one combat encounter that I just... It drives me nuts so much. And that is the "rescue Halsin" encounter in the first Act. Like, I get the entire discussion we can have on the topic of "Goblins are evil, and hence killing goblins is fine". It is not a believe that I subscribe to.
But really, my main issue in that encounter is... The goblin kids. I recently tried literally everything in my Durge run to avoid killing the goblin kids. Were they cruel to Halsin? Yes. But they are bloody kids. If you grew up rurally there is a good chance that you have at some point seen some kids throwing rocks at an injured animal. And responsible adults will reprement them, but they will not KILL THEM (hopefully)!
When I did my first Tav run, I had used up my daily charge for mind control, so I was forced into that fight either way. But now with my Durge I mind controlled the goblins and went like: "Hey, I am a True Soul, let that bear go." And they did. Only for Halsin go: "It's murder time!"
And while I can tell my team to use non-lethal damage in that fight... Yeah, Halsin is just gonna murder. And given he is closer to those kids, they will most likely die. After trying for basically ever, I managed to block Halsin from going after those two kids, and let them run. They left the room and are now gone. (No, they did not raise an alarm.)
And I am sitting there: "Halsin, you are supposed to be a good guy. Can we not at the very least agree on not murdering any children, whatever species they might belong to?"
Sure, it kinda makes sense under the idea that Halsin is a werebear. And as a werebear, sure, he might be a bit murdery when angry. But...
45 notes ¡ View notes
ursacanid ¡ 1 month ago
Text
Lil update, everypawdy
I think I am both dog and brown bear therian and I feel a range of integration.
I feel like a weredog, werebear, werebeardog, beardog, just bear, or just dog at different points in time. I have boughts where I feel like nothing more often than I feel just human.
Although things like mood and environment impact me, I do not experience clean expressions like "Im a bear when Im angry". It is a lot more fluid and situational.
I think vacilant therianthrope is a good term for me. The puzzle is puzzling puzzlefully. Ive been able to talk to my therapist about my therianthropy lately and it has been nice and it fits well with some of the potential diagnoses we’ve been discussing. (I will go into more detail/explanation when/if I receive a diagnosis)
youtube
I've been a big fan of @zith-ipeth 's blog and kinda want my own outro text. (seriously, her blog is lovely and inspiring, regardless of your species. It is really nice to read about someone experiencing life as a therian in a way that is well written, poetic, genuine, and vulnerable. She aims to create a sense of community and pride and she does so very well. I hope to do something similar based on my life experiences when Im able.) Anywho...
Sploot wide, kick hide, and take pride
-UrsineTransGuy (๑·̀㉨·́ฅ✧
21 notes ¡ View notes
shewreckz ¡ 9 months ago
Note
hi i am a freak about your sp ghoul au do you have any more info ... perhaps on what species everyone is and how each character came to be that way :3
heres a whole list of what species each character is! ill post some more info with character portraits later today also...
scott - just a regular guy
kim - zombie
stephen - werewolf
neil - ghost
ramona - bride of frankenstein
matthew - demon
lucas - headless horseman
todd - killer plant
roxy - oni
katayanagi twins - dragons
gideon - mad scientist/dr. frankenstein
knives - spider
envy - siren
julie - medusa
stacey - witch
wallace - vampire
lisa - fairy
hollie - werecat
joseph - werebear
lynette - robot
im probably missing random minor characters will probably assign them some random creature if needed...for now these are the important ones
77 notes ¡ View notes
strawberrypoundtown ¡ 5 months ago
Text
Introducing: Clayton Briggs
(Credit to @the-witches-creatures for the intro template, and Beatrice belongs to her as well! Please go check out her blog! She's so talented!)
What's their name?
Clayton Briggs
What's their age?
24
When is their birthday?
January 8th
What do they look like?
Clayton has short and curly golden-brown hair that's always a mess and a big bushy beard. He has golden-yellow eyes and his arms and face are a bit tanned from working outside, but he's a bit pale under his clothes.
He is a naturally tall and large dude. Due to being a werebear, he's larger than the average werewolf. He stands at about 7'3 and is a very large man. He has a big belly and his whole body is perfectly soft for hugging. However, don't let his looks fool you. He has a lot of muscle hidden under the squish.
When he's fully transformed, he's a huge brown bear, standing at about 8'9. If you look carefully, his fur is a bit curly, but it's hard to tell because he's so fluffy. He has a hard time getting through most doorways, like Bruce, when he's transformed, so he usually avoids it unless he's home. It doesn't help that the 4 inch claws are very impractical for construction work most of the time.
What's their species?
He's a werebear!
What's their ethnicity and nationality?
He doesn't really know for sure, due to being adopted, but has been told by his mom that his parents were Russian as far as she knew.
What's their personality like?
He is known for being very shy. The only person he usually talks freely and comfortably with is his best friend Jesse Vi. He may look like a giant, terrifying beast, but he's actually just a huge teddy bear that wants to help others.
What's some fun facts about them?
1. His adoptive parents had found him in the middle of winter behind an abandoned store in North Dakota when they were 18 after they ran away from their parents. They were a lesbian couple, but his mom Alice died when he was 12 from breast cancer.
2. Works in construction for Jesse and Beatrice to renovate some old shops for the pack. He does odd jobs for Jesse and the rest of his band when he's not too busy as well. It gives him an excuse to go see his friends.
3. Occasionally makes himself onto Jesse's albums despite his grumbling because of his talent with brass instruments in high-school (he used to play the trumpet and baritone saxophone)
4. He has only ever had a relationship because Jesse set him up with someone. Usually, they would start off well, but they often had a hard time dealing with his hibernation cycle.
5. His mom Jane had developed a fear of going outside after her wife passed away, so he uses his salary to handle both their rent payments. Thankfully, Jesse pays him very well because he's aware of the situation.
47 notes ¡ View notes
newhavenrp ¡ 2 years ago
Text
Tumblr media
Is that TOM HARDY? No, that’s NIX ANDERSON-STAVES. The 45 year old OAK MOON - WEREBEAR ALPHA DUAL-NATURED MALE is the OWNER OF PANTHEON BAR. If you ask their friends, they’re known to be PROTECTIVE & GENEROUS, but beware, they’re also known to be TEMPERMENTAL & ROWDY. Their friends also say that they’re into ROUGH SEX & ORAL SEX but don’t you dare trying SCAT & WATERSPORTS with them. 
Tumblr media
Life had been pretty easy for Nix. HIs family had been pretty accepting of him when he presented as dual-natured and even more so when they realized their son would be a strong Alpha. He felt happy and safe in his family. That was until he met Tyr. His family were traditionalists. Werebears were supposed to mate with other weres. That was what was expected for Nix. However, he couldn't help falling for the young witch that lived not to far from them. His family saw how his emotions were developing and did their best to stop him from seeing Tyr but that only made Nix more rebellious. That act of rebellion one night led to a child. 
That set his family off. 
Nix tried to defend him and Tyr's love but his family wasn't having any of it. They told him that his love for the witch was unnatural and the child that they gave birth to was an abomination. The accepting family that Nix had grown up with had crumbled before his eyes. 
He still had Tyr though and his family were more than accepting of their relationship and their new son. Regardless of how accepting they were, living with them still meant that they were close to Nix's family. What they needed to do was move. Move away from his family and start a new life together. That's how they found New Haven. He knew that nowhere would be safe from prying eyes but at least they would be separate from his past.  Now he's been in New Haven for a few years. He and Tyr had gotten married, still ignoring those judging eyes that saw a wereperson and witch together with their son. Despite that, he had managed to open a bar inspired by him and his husband: Pantheon. They were doing their best to fully live their life, loving each other with all of their hearts. 
5 notes ¡ View notes
markrosewater ¡ 1 year ago
Note
Hey Mark, with the upcoming type errata, any chance in the future to have "Were" split from "Werewolf" so the other were were species in the game like the werefoxes, werebears, wererat, etc can have a shared type?
We talked about it extensively in Innistrad. I don’t think anything has changed which would make us reconsider.
59 notes ¡ View notes
average-pirate-enjoyer ¡ 1 month ago
Text
Oh Darling Series Masterlist
Introducing ATEEZ, a small, unconventional but loving pack. Set in a world where alongside humans live wereanimals (a humanoid being that turns into a specific animal every full moon), shifters (a humanoid being that can turn into a specific animal at will), and hybrids (a humanoid being that constantly possesses physical traits of an animal such as ears, tails, horns, etc. depending on the species.)
Hongjoong - Werewolf Seonghwa - Dragon Shifter Yunho - Dog Shifter (Golden Retriever) Yeosang - Deer Hybrid San - Cat Shifter Mingi - Bunny Shifter Wooyoung - Fox Hybrid Jongho - Werebear
All links go to ao3! ao3 series link.
Words: 112,863 Works: 4 Complete: No
Oh Darling, I Know What You're Going Through - Complete. 18+. Words: 75,187 Chapters: 9. Omegaverse pack ATEEZ presenting and working through their heats and ruts together. OT8
Tell Me About It, Stud - Complete. 18+. Words: 26,786 Chapters: 5. Trans Alpha San getting Studded. OT8
You're Dangerous, I'm Loving It. - Complete. 18+. Words: 5,198 Chapters: 1. Seonghwa and Wooyoung experiment with predator/prey dynamics. Wooyoung/Seonghwa
Peel Back The Rind - Complete. 18+. Words: 5,692. Chapters: 1. Kinktober day 1: dirty talk. San's been so horny lately, more so than usual, that his pack had an informal meeting to figure out what to do with him. Jongho thinks he knows precisely what the Alpha needs. San/Jongho
10 notes ¡ View notes
kelandrin ¡ 11 months ago
Text
All The Gods We Cannot Save appears to be the winner for my urban fantasy/supernatural AU! To celebrate I will reveal some more details about the characters at the start of the story. Today is Halsin! Small note: all the starting locations are places I have extensively studied for other projects or are places I have actual familiarity with.
Tumblr media
plaintext from pic below cut:
Name: Halsin Aliases: Archdruid Age: Unknown Height: 6'4 Weight: 300 lbs Species: Werebear Ethnicity: Caucasian Nationality: Russian Gender: Male Affiliations: Unknown Current Location: Last seen in The Black Hills, South Dakota Skills/Abilities: Super-human strength, enhanced senses, healing magic, shapeshifting into a large grizzly bear Background: Halsin is a Russian werebear who has secluded himself from much of civilizations. He has traveled much of the Northern Hemisphere, staying for some time in undisturbed natural areas (like refuges). His presence is often preceded by ecological disruptions of the magical variety and he only leaves after the disruption has been resolved. His current presence in the Black Hills seems to be related to a recent wildfire which is still not entirely halted. Notes: He is not hostile but should be approached with caution.
45 notes ¡ View notes
mmmn-thirsty-for-vinegar ¡ 2 months ago
Note
Do you have any race ideas settled for your Persona Skyrim au?
Tumblr media
hnnnn i didn't know anyone would be interested in that au but yes ;w;
Tumblr media
At first i was kinda nervous to explore all races with the Persona cast but fuck it we ball
Species revise + fighting class [Dominant class | Sub Class (if they have one)]
-P5 Cast-
Akira: Khajiit (Ohmes species) [Thief | Archer] [[Dovahkiin]]
Morgana: Khajiit (Alfiq-Raht species) [Mage | Thief]
Ryuji: Half Orc [Warrior | Thief]
Ann: Nord [Mage | Thief]
Yusuke: Khajiit (Ohmes species) [Thief | Mage]
Makoto: Nord/ Werewolf [Warrior]
Futaba: Dark Elf/ Vampire [Mage]
Haru: Wood Elf [Warrior | Mage]
Akechi: Redguard [Assassin | Archer]
Sumire: Imperial [Mage]
Sophia: Dwemer Automation [Mage]
Zenkichi: Imperial/ Werewolf [Warrior | Archer]
-P4 Cast-
Yu: Imperial/ Werewolf [Warrior | Mage] [[Dovahkiin]]
Yosuke: Half-Argonian [Thief | Mage]
Chie: Nord [Warrior]
Yukiko: High Elf [Mage | Thief]
Kanji: Half-Orc [Warrior]
Rise: Dark Elf/ Vampire [ Mage]
Teddie: Nord/ Werebear [Mage | Warrior]
Naoto: Wood Elf [Archer | Mage]
Labrys: Dwemer Automation [Warrior]
Sho: Redguard [Warrior | Assassin]
-P3 Cast-
Mitsuru: High Elf/ Vampire Lord [Mage | Warrior]
Akihiko: Breton [Warrior | Mage]
Shinjiro: Redguard/ Werewolf [Warrior]
Yukari: Imperial [Archer | Mage]
Minako: Wood Elf [Assassin | Warrior] [[Dovahkiin]]
Minato: Wood Elf [Mage | Assassin] [[Dovahkiin]]
Junpei: Breton [Warrior]
Fuuka: Dark Elf [Mage]
Aigis: Dwemer Automation [Archer | Warrior]
Ken: Nord [Thief]
Koromaru: Dog/ Werewolf? (turns into a bigger dog :o )
Ryoji: Snow Elf/ Vampire Lord [Mage | Warrior]
Chidori: Snow Elf/ Vampire Lord [Mage | Assassin]
Takaya: High Elf/ Vampire Lord [Archer | Assassin]
Jin: Nord/ Vampire [Mage | Assassin]
Yur :3
Edit: Akira, Ann species change
10 notes ¡ View notes
writing-heiress ¡ 2 months ago
Text
Monster Lovers AU: NRC Species
Heartslaybul
Riddle — anthusae
Trey — elf-satyr hybrid
Cater — thyiad
Ace — kitsune
Deuce — skvader
Savanaclaw
Leona — liontaur
Jack — werewolf
Ruggie — gnoll
Octavinelle
Azul — kraken
Jade — sea serpent, eel variation
Floyd — sea serpent, eel variation
Scarabia
Kalim — nereid, oasis variation
Jamil — naga
Pomefiore
Vil — vampire-siren
Rook — vampire-harpy
Epel — vampire-pixie
Ignihyde
Idia — chthonic phoenix
Ortho — golem, chthonic iron variation
Diasomnia
Malleus — dragon
Lilia — vampire
Sebek — basilisk
Silver — baku
Staff
Crowley — crow harpy/dark elf
Trein — werecat
Vargas — werebear
Crewel — weredog, Dalmatian variation
Sam — shadow imp
Tagging — @adrianasunderworld @the-trinket-witch @liviavanrouge @the-weirdos-mind @ice-cweam-sod4 @yumeko2sevilla @yukii0nna @tragedytells-tales @abyssthing198 @boopshoops @queen-of-twisted @achy-boo @mangacupcake @fair-night-starry-tears @absolutepokemontrash @lovelybuefood @lorkai @starry-night-rose
19 notes ¡ View notes