#werewolf arthur morgan

[gadzookscomic]

Arthur Morgan as a werewolf, send tweet

[cherriiramen]

It’s the spoopiest timeeee of the yearrrrrr >:3 (click for better quality!)

Bonus !!

[heranubis]

It's almost too easy to forget what he is - who he is. Arthur Morgan; the enforcer of the Van Der Linde gang, and also your closest confidant. His eyes are like rivers with how much they shift between shades of blue and green, sometimes favoring one over the other, depending on lighting. You feel safe when he looks at you, like nothing else in the world could ever hurt you.

It's almost too easy to become complacent with his gentleness. Not once has he ever laid a hand to you in malice, nor does he speak ill to you - but that does little to wash away the blood under his nails. It does little to hide how sharp his teeth are. It does little to tamper down the snarl bubbling deep in his chest - a beast trapped beneath ribs begging to be broken, a heart beating like a drum even as he moves silent in the night.

You are reminded of what he is - as you look into those beautiful river eyes. His face is not human - no part of him is. Dirty blonde fur takes place of sun-kissed skin, dog teeth taking the place of a humans in a face distorted and elongated in some bastardization of a wolf. The saliva that drips from between his teeth is pink - but you know blood when you smell it.

His muzzle and throat are stained, coated so thoroughly you have no pretense of the dangerous things he has done before returning to you. You can only remain frozen in place as elongated, distorted limbs push him forward in a gate both clumsy and predatory. His nose brushes against the skin of your neck as his hot breath almost burns with every exhale.

There is no more powerful feeling than looking into a wolf's eyes, and knowing your life is no longer your own. And there is something to be said when he looks at you with love, even through his bloodlust madness. Yet still you flinch when his tongue reachs out to you - to taste, to clean, to stain.

It's almost too easy to forget what he is. But as he towers over you, standing on bended back legs and snarled teeth on display - you are never slow to remember.

[pinkiemme]

I have been thinking about werewolf Arthur since yesterday so I couldn’t help myself

[mouldynoodles]

LOOK AT THIS CUTE PHOTO OF CHARLES

MY FAVOURITE SAD COWBOY RAGHHHHHH ‼️

I need that photo of the werewolf ripping of its shirt to fully encapsulate my feelings

[hai-nae]

some wips. i’m completely normal about my own au, totally.

[gunslinger-with-no-name]

Red Dead story idea 2

Imagine if instead of John getting attacked by wolves he was attacked by werewolves instead?

This has many ways it can turn out, that also includes how you want the curse to work do they just need to be scratched or do they actually need to be bitten? Is there a cure?

-John managing to escape and get the curse

-John being saved by another werewolf (which would most likely look like they're fighting over who eats him lol)

-John getting saved by a mysterious hunter who knows how to kill supernatural beings.

I find this idea interesting because it can happen either when John is being attacked or as Arthur and Javier go to find John, it's such a versatile idea.

(Trying not to write all my idea thingys out and save some for future days)

[telltalesketch]

What Lies Beyond the Veil

A Red Dead Redemption 2 Supernatural AU

Master List

Archive Of Our Own

Chapter Five: Silver Lining

Warnings: Mentions of extreme pain, sexual undertones, and puns.

Word Count: 2,731

Dutch is pulled from his rest by blinding agony.

It tears through him like pulsing fire that scorches every muscle it passes. He wants to scream but his throat is so tense that all he can manage is a strangled cry. His mind is a flurry of questions and confusion as he sees that he’s been laid out in a cold, barely lit cabin with rotting walls. Where is everyone? Is John okay? Did they get away from that thing?

Dutch’s eyes screw shut as the searing ache pulses out into his limbs. One of his questions is answered as he hears his best friend’s voice. He feels Hosea’s hand grab his and he can’t help but squeeze as the spasms wrack through his body. “It hurts.” He winces as he hears his own voice. “Everything hurts.” Dutch groans again as another wave moves through his body. He hears Hosea speak, but the words don’t register.

He manages to open his eyes and sees Hosea standing beside him, his gaze focused off toward the foot of the bed. His eyes follow Hosea’s and he sees Arthur standing by the door. The way Arthur goes pale looking at him, how his green eyes go wide, makes Dutch worry for his own well being.

Then he’s gone out the door.

Another pulse of fire wracks through Dutch’s body and his eyes clamp shut again as he lets out an agonized groan. Hosea pulls his hand away when his grip loosens momentarily and instead elects to set his hands on his shoulders. Dutch hears him speak and does his best to focus on his words. “- hang on, Dutch. Arthur’s getting Swanson we’ll take care of the pain soon.” Hosea says calmly as he reassures him. Dutch tries to nod in acknowledgment.

The wait is agonizing and feels as if it's gone on for hours, especially as he starts to hear every clunk and creak of footsteps as people enter the cabin hurriedly. Then the pain rears up to a kind he is sure he’s never experienced. His throat loosens and he lets out a scream of agony. It feels like his body is trying to twist itself inside out. His bones scream, his organs burn, everything gets loud and every smell invades his senses. Every fiber of his being is overwhelmed and tortured. In the wake of the pain he begins thrashing, as though keeping his body moving would free him from this agony. Then he feels hands come down upon his shoulders and force him into the bed. Something crawls forth from the back of his mind at that, something that tells him to fight as he now tries to pull himself free from the grip.

There’s shouting as he tries to break free. A snarl lets loose from his throat between agonized screams as he thrashes against those restraining him. Though he doesn’t feel the needle as it enters the forearm that the Reverend tries desperately to hold down. Once the morphine enters his system, it works quickly. The searing burn begins to ebb away and he stops his spasms, though the lingering embers of the fire in his veins remain amid the wash of drugs. He feels the weight of people lift free from his shoulders as he sinks back down into the furs and blankets. A sigh of relief escapes his lips as an idle ache thrums beneath his skin. He draws ragged and deep breaths into his starved lungs. Slowly the exhaustion returns to his body and memories draw him into a deep sleep.

“Dutch?”

“Yes?” Dutch purred as he pulled himself closer to her, nestling his nose into the soft strawberry blonde waves of hair that laid upon their pillow. He felt like this would be the closest he’d ever get to what heaven was like. A warm hotel room with a lit fire, curled up with his savior beneath soft sheets, and lulled into a sense of peace hearing the muffled sound of revelry from the parlor below.

“Where do you plan on going next?” She asked.

Dutch took a moment, humming as he raked through his recent memories. “Well…Hosea and I were thinking about heading East. Probably into Virginia City, a town with that much silver has to have a few suckers.” With a smirk he nuzzles the spot behind her ear with his nose. “And I’m sure there’s monsters up in those hills you can hunt too.”

There was a long pause of silence just barely cut by the crackling of burning logs. “About that…”

Dutch tensed. “…Nora?”

“I have to go to Singapore.” The Gates of Heaven slammed shut in his face in that moment.

He sat up, propping himself up on his elbow, and looked down at her with genuine shock. “Sing-why?”

She rolled over onto her back to face him. “Assignment.”

“Monster hunters have assignments?”

Nora sighed. “They do when they work for the Vatican.”

He stared at her blankly for a moment as the realization hit him. “…..this supernatural business really is a problem isn’t it?” In the last two weeks he’d been with her that only just occurred to him. He was certainly more preoccupied with other things.

“Only when you look close enough….Or when they start burning down villages and eating townspeople.” She added, almost distantly.

Dutch looked down at her, his brows pulled into a look of confusion as a feeling he wasn’t familiar with crept into his chest. He was going to miss her, sorely. The thought of saying goodbye felt like a lead weight on his shoulders. “When are you leaving?” He asked softly, perhaps the softest he’d ever spoken to her.

Her stoic expression seemed to falter for a moment, but it was only a flicker. “I need to be on a boat across the Pacific by the end of the month.” She replied very matter of factly.

“Is there a chance that I’ll ever see you again?” He said without much thought, as if being given some sense of hope would stop the feeling of his heart sinking. He reached out his hand to cup her cheek tenderly.

After a long moment the answer he received was a side-to-side shake of the head.

He leaned in closer to her almost desperately as he touched his nose to her’s and lowered his voice. “Nora, my dear, there has to be a way?”

She smiled and reached up to rest her hand upon his wrist. “Dutch, it was fate we met in the first place. Well, fate if fate was you being perfect prey for a vampire… “ She added with a sly smile, though her jab was met with a rigid frown. “You’d have to stay in one place. Which isn’t you. Nor is it Hosea or that poor teenager you’ve both decided to drag into your schemes.”

“Oh we aren't dragging Arthur around.” Dutch retorted quickly.

Nora sighed. “You’re missing my point….be honest with me Dutch. Will you really remember me years from now?”

Without a moment of pause Dutch answered. “No woman will ever compare.”

Nora barked out a small laugh. “Mon loup, you will not fool me with that flattery.” She started, letting go of his hand to push on his chest. She pushed hard, but he fell back off of her without any contest. “I am sure many more women will cross your path, and you’ll rope them in or catch their interest just as you have mine.” His back hit the mattress and with one fluid motion she was on top of him, straddling his lap. “And I am sure that one of them can afford the risk of leaving whatever life you find them in to be with you. After that I will be a passing memory.” She said with a small smirk, resting her hands on his chest.

Dutch would be lying if he said that he wasn’t entranced by her for a moment. “That could all happen, yes.” He sat up against her hands, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close. “But I know that I will never forget my savior so long as I walk this earth.” He punctuated his statement with a kiss. She returned it, and let him relish in the tender moment.

Nora pulled away from the kiss after a long while. Her hazel eyes half lidded as she stared into his brown ones. There’s another pause before she smiled at him softly. “We’ll see if fate should ever bring us together again then, hmm?”

Dutch grinned at her response and pulled her back in again. This time the kiss far more passionate as Nora tangled her fingers in his curly black hair and pulled. He let out an approving groan, though his mind wandered to an idea for a moment. He pulls away, breathing heavy. “Or…what if we follow you to Singapore?” He asked cheekily, a sly grin on his face.

“Dutch Van Der Linde, you are the King of Fools.” Nora huffed as she pushed him down into the mattress. He stared up at her with that same grin and dreamy stare.

“And you are my Queen, Nora Dupont.”

Arthur looks over Dutch as he stops writhing, still holding him down as he drifts off into unconsciousness. He only lifts his hands from his shoulders when he’s sure that Dutch won’t wake up. The others seem to follow his lead. Arthur looks up from Dutch to see an expression of horror on Swanson’s face as he stands beside Dutch with the needle still in his hand. Hosea stands at the head of Dutch’s bed beside him and Arthur can clearly see the worry written on his worn features.

“What the hell…?” Swanson stutters out.

Arthur looks over Dutch as he sleeps deeply, his brows knit together in an expression of concern. "He's-"

"We don't know." Hosea interrupts him. "I'm sure we'll find out, for now, the two of you should get back to the schoolhouse. Give Dutch some space and keep warm."

Swanson looks as though he wants to say something further but instead he abides by Hosea's orders without a word. He leaves the cabin while Hosea returns to his seat beside his best friend. There is a long moment of silence as he and Arthur both watch the rise and fall of Dutch’s chest anxiously.

“Did you-“

“Yes, Arthur…I saw his eyes.” Hosea says with a sigh.

The acknowledgement is all it takes for that once lingering sense of dread to permeate the air completely. Both are silent, the weight of the situation dawning on them as the implications set in. Frederick’s words play on loop in Arthur’s head.

Your friend has a month.

All the fears of Dutch becoming a monster, of John being right, make it harder for Arthur to stay standing. He slowly grabs an empty chair and drags it to sit beside Hosea. He sits down wordlessly, eyes trained on Dutch’s bandaged shoulder. It feels like a crushing force is coming down on him. Images of Dutch as that beast, covered from head to toe in black fur and looking at everyone with those hungry amber eyes. The idea of having to stop Dutch to save everyone. To need to put down the man that brought him up like a son. He closes his eyes as if to stop the images and ideas from running through his head, but they keep playing. Blood, gore, and the screams of the gang over the horrendous snarling of a man made beast. A silver bullet glimmering in the barrel of his gun as he level’s it at the monster’s chest and-

“Do you think we’re gonna need to treat him for fleas?” Hosea asks, interrupting Arthur’s spiraling worry like a wrench being thrown into moving gears. He immediately snaps his head to look at him, initially confused until he sees Hosea’s face. He’s wearing a wicked smile across his lips and a childlike mirth in his eyes. To which Arthur simply glares as his worry is replaced with annoyance.

“That’s not funny, Hosea.”

Hosea lets loose the laugh he was holding in at his own joke. “Can’t blame me for trying to find the silver lined humor in this, Arthur.”

“Hosea.” He almost growls out the name, very done with his jokes at the expense of the man lying unconscious and wounded in front of them.

After a few moments his laughter subsides and he looks at Arthur, his grin falling to a bittersweet smile. “We’ll get through this, Arthur.” He says softly with a conviction that Arthur wants to believe is enough. He opens his mouth to retort but elects to close it and go back to looking at Dutch while Hosea gives him a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

He desperately wants to believe.

The two fall into silence. Despite his irritation Hosea’s joke did relieve Arthur of the horrendous flurry of anxiety, but the dread still rattles about in his chest.

“What are we gonna do, Hosea?” The weight of worry on Arthur’s words is clear in how quietly he asks that question.

Hosea stays silent for a few long moments, eyes trained on Dutch as he shakes his head slowly.

Arthur begins to wonder if Hosea will say anything when the older man finally speaks. “Best we can do is make our way out of the mountains first chance we get.”

“Where do we go from there? We can’t keep Dutch in a wagon like this for too long.” Arthur quickly asks back.

“If I remember right there’s a cattle town called Valentine just out of the mountains East of here.” Hosea adds, leaning back in his chair and grasping his arms closer to himself as the biting cold whistles in through the ramshackle windows. “We’ll head out once the wagons thaw enough for us to dig 'em free.”

Arthur bites down a shiver at the cold and turns his head to look at Hosea. “What do we do until then?”

Hosea huffs. "Survive....Like we always do.” He looks to Arthur and nods his head toward the door with a reassuring smile. “Get some sleep, Arthur. You’ve had a hell of a day dealing with werewolves.” Hosea says that last word with a bit of mockery, letting out a quick chuckle to emphasize it.

Arthur rolls his eyes in response. “I’m fine, Hosea.” He says, leaning back in the chair. However, he grimaces as his shoulders move, the muscles tight and aching from the falls he’d taken earlier. He isn’t young enough to just shrug those off without it coming back to haunt him anymore. He spares a glance at Hosea as the pain settles and the man is giving him a knowing look. He’d definitely seen that.

With a frown and a frustrated huff Arthur stands from his chair and rolls his shoulders, wincing again at the pain that shoots through his back. “Fine.” Arthur says curtly as he walks toward the door, he hovers in the threshold for a moment to glance back at Dutch. He moves slightly in his drug induced slumber, but it seems like the pain is gone. A small reassurance.

He tries not to think about those amber eyes as he leaves for his room.

The boards creak beneath his footfalls and the wind howls outside, rattling around in his bones as he sits upon the even creakier bed. He’s almost hesitant to lean back on it for fear that the entire frame would give out under his weight and add just another reason for his back to hate him. The whistling of the howling wind through the boarded and broken windows doesn’t help the idea of sleep too much either.

Though the wind carries the tune of Javier’s guitar and Uncle’s halfway decent singing with it. He smiles, taking a small comfort in the fact that spirits aren’t quite dead up in this frozen hellscape. They’ll be out soon enough; this frost can’t last forever. With a small huff Arthur lays back on the cot, grimacing at the horrid creaking of the wood as it takes his full weight. Once he’s laid down and is sure the bed won’t give out on him, he tips his hat down over his eyes and crosses his arms while he waits for sleep to take him.

[trbotunnel]

yall wtf

i have like,, a fic concept spinning round in my head. but i dont know how to execute it. because it could be so CRINGE or so EPIC depending on what way i swing with it. and i am afraid that it would be the former. but maybe it could be campy in a FUN SLASHER kind of way. who knows!!!

[morgane0311]

I love this moment, it's so cute and romantic. 😍🥰☺️

Amelie belongs to @alabasterpickles

[gadzookscomic]

Me, eating a bag of Cheez-Its, thinking: you know what would be good? werewolf Arthur Morgan. It just seems like a good idea. Surely someone has thought of it. I would like to see it. (uses the search feature on Tumblr) ... Yay!! It exists!

[cherriiramen]

MORE WIPS BECAUSE IM IMPATIENT.

[livingdeadmlm]

Back from the dead

OKAY SO…Werewolf Arthur Morgan x reader ??

Probably just fluff and maybe an overprotective Arthur?

TEEEHEEE

-🌶️

Welcome back!!

He keeps his ears tucked away in his hat, he dosen’t want it too clear when he’s trying to hear what people are talking about around him

He comes back to the camp and tries his hardest to keep his tail from wagging like crazy when he finally catches a small smell of you throughout the camp leading back to your tent.

However he is always exposed when you peek around a corner and hear his name sung out to him, it does get some giggles from the women in the camp and the kids when big ol Arthur's stoic face and tail are going 100 miles a minute

Heading into town he makes sure to be half a step behind so he can make sure no one sneaks up on either of you and maybe take your or his wallets and run off.

He makes plenty sure that when talking to folk they don’t attempt to scam you out of any of your money

When taking jobs he tends to consider his safety more now yet still finds himself in the middle of the woods talking to strangers he’s never seen before.

He wont get jealous if people come up to talk to you but when its at the bar, and the other person is getting much to close his ears are pinned back under his hat

You don’t entertain the attention much but the other person tends to pick up on Arthur’s no longer wagging tail and the tension that could be cut with a knife

He’s never had to get loud unless someone grabs at you then he dives in and holds back no bite or punch

You’ve specially sown his pants in order to fit his tail through them, before he would just rip a line in the hem and fit is tail in it.

If you find a hat that accompanies his big wolf ears it exposes just how often he gets confused but plays it off like nothing

As a wolf I think he’d have a much bigger appetite and gets a little embarrassed when he’s downed his whole meal when you’ve just started eating

[pinkiemme]

Thinking about how much the werewolf AU fits Arthur because of him being doomed by a disease and the fact that he has it makes him think bout how he’s a bad man and deserves to suffer from it and there’s nothing he can do now that will reverse the disease.

But he tries to be as good as he thinks he can be, him being what he is, to compensate all the bad things he has and will make.

[misspearly1]

Miss Pearls Kinktober 2022

This is my first Kinktober ya'll and let me tell ya, I am very excited. I'd like to give a very special thanks to Keri, (@absurdthirst - kinktober list), Lua (@starsandskies - kinktober list) and LeeAnn (@the-purity-pen - kinktober list) for providing these prompts. I really appreciate the work you put into creating these for us ❤️

Pre-Warnings (Please Read): There are three fandoms in this Kinktober. (Joel Miller/ Arthur Morgan/Pedro Pascal Characters). All are completed with Female readers (you, Y/N). And lastly, some fics are big with plot, others are small with very little plot. The first fic will be automatically posted tomorrow morning at 7am 🥰

Day One: Size Difference - Joel Miller

Day Two: Thigh Riding - Arthur Morgan

Day Three: Threesome - Joel Miller & Arthur Morgan

Day Four: Breast Worship/Nipple Play - Marcus Pike

Day Five: Window/Balcony Sex - Javier Pena

Day Six: Sleepy Sex - Frankie Morales

Day Seven: Anal - Pero Tovar

Day Eight: Cockwarming - Ezra

Day Nine: Anonymous Sex - Din D'jarin

Day Ten: Creampie - Jack 'Whiskey' Daniels

Day Eleven: Orgasm Denial/Edging - Joel Miller

Day Twelve: Face Sitting - Joel Miller

Day Thirteen: Spanking - Joel Miller

Day Fourteen: Rough Sex + Aftercare - Arthur Morgan

Day Fifteen: Monster Fucking - Max Phillips

Day Sixteen: Restraints - Marcus Pike

Day Seventeen: Rough Sex - Frankie Morales

Day Eighteen: Accidental Stimulation - Din D'jarin

Day Nineteen: Titty Fucking - Pero Tovar

Day Twenty: Double Penetration - Max Phillips

Day Twenty-One: Daddy/Mommy Kink - Jack 'Whiskey' Daniels

Day Twenty-Two: Lingerie - Joel Miller

Day Twenty-Three: Sex Pollen - Joel Miller

Day Twenty-Four: Sex Pollen - Arthur Morgan

Day Twenty-Five: Lactation/Breeding Kink - Arthur Morgan

Day Twenty-Six: Bath/Shower Sex - Din D'jarin

Day Twenty-Seven: Mirror Sex - Frankie Morales

Day Twenty-Eight: Hate Fucking - Pero Tovar

Day Twenty-Nine: Public Sex - Joel Miller

Day Thirty: Hunter/Prey - Werewolf!Joel Miller

[cowboydisaster]

Lobo

part two (but can be read alone)

read part 1 here

pairing: werewolf!Arthur Morgan x reader

word count: 2.5k

summary: After your mating bite, Arthur offers you something else-- his body.

a/n: I got a lot of requests for a part two with smut! I really like this little series, lmk if you guys want more! Heres the lore to keep in mind because everyone writes werewolves differently:

-mated pairs can feel each others emotions and pain/pleasure -mated pairs are nearly irresistible to each other during the full moon, it's like sex pollen, but can be painful for one or both parties, i.e. a burning sensation or a fever-- the moons way of keeping her werewolf population from dwindling.

warnings: nsfw, smut, a touch of a/b/o, 18+, minors dni

beta read by @margowritesthings

That tether, the unforgiving ache in your chest that had pulled you to him is gone. But it’s replaced by a new feeling. A burning fire, raging in your core. You look up to Arthur’s red eyes, gasping for breath as pure need overtakes you. It’s as strong as the tether was, and your knees buckle as Arthur catches your arms. 

“I need– Arthur, it hurts.” You moan, hands gripping at the fire in your stomach as Arthur holds you up. You radiate with need, and he can smell it coming off you so strongly that he can barely restrain himself. His eyes slip closed and he breathes through his mouth to keep a clear head. 

“If you’ll have me, I’ll make it go away.” Arthur mumbles, dizzy with the way your scent swirls in his head. His strong arms are tight around you, holding you upright as you frantically nod. He’s the only thing grounding you, making you feel whole and empty just the same because you’ve never felt a bond so raw in your soul, or an emptiness so deep in your core.

“Please, I need you.” You whimper, clinging to him like he’s the oxygen flowing in and out of your lungs. 

“I’ll take care of you, I promise.” Arthur whispers. He scoops you up into his arms as if you weigh nothing, carrying you towards your bedroll. Ares and Marley are near the treeline, far away from the sight you two are likely to make. 

Arthur lays you down on the cot with a tenderness that no human has shown you before. His eyes glow red as fresh roses as he lines your body over top of you. 

"You're so perfect." Arthur growls, leaning down to catch your lips, "N' you're all mine." 

You've read about this too. Arthur's an alpha, meaning that he's equally possessive and protective. You're his, and you have no quarrels with that, you'll gladly shout it from rooftops. 

His lips crash onto yours, wanting and needy. He takes your lips like they're something necessary to his survival. It's so different from your first kiss just moments ago. There's a hunger behind his eyes, and this time when he nudges his nose into your neck and inhales, the scent is sickeningly sweet. He can smell how much you want him, he can taste how ready you are. 

Your body aches as he runs his fingers down your stomach to your thigh. He nudges your thighs apart, reaching down to run his fingers over your entrance. If anything, his teasing makes the fire burn hotter and you groan at the way it consumes you. You need more of him, all of him. 

You gasp as he presses a finger into you, curling it. The fire quells, but it's not nearly enough. You groan, wincing as sweat runs down your forehead.

Arthur's fingers work inside you, pumping as he kisses and bites your neck. He growls occasionally, overcome with the need that's raging in himself. His fingers equally help and hurt you. The more he teases you, the more pleasure you feel, but the longer he's not in you, more fever overtakes you. The moon is pulling you together, and her patience is wearing thin. Arthur's fingers continue to slide in you, and you buck your hips as pleasure ripples through you. It's short lived, as the bubbling heat takes over, 

"Arthur, please no more teasing, it hurts." You wince, face scrunching up as your body screams for his own, "Alpha, please."

At his title, something in Arthur snaps back, and when he realizes you're in pain he apologizes immediately.

"Shit, I'm sorry, I'll make it go away. You just hang in there, alright?" Arthur asks of you and you nod. You can do that. You need him so desperately, it's unlike anything you've ever experienced. He's your water, your oxygen, your shelter. He's right with the things keeping you alive, you know that you can't live without him now. 

You swallow thickly when you glance down. He’s an alpha, and so he’s big– really big. You hesitate, and even the fire in your stomach pauses for a moment. Arthur can smell your fear, and he immediately pulls back a bit. 

“What’s the matter? You’re scared.” Arthur points out, scenting the cool night air and finding again the unmistakable, strong scent of fear. You shake your head, pulling him back down to you.  

“You’re big, alpha. Just be gentle.” You ask, some of your anxiety quelling when his eyes soften on yours. They bleed back to that familiar ocean green for just a second as he nods, a strand of his soft hair falls down over your face and you gently push it behind his ear.

“I won't hurt you.” He swears. Werewolves never break their promises. It’s a code, one of their strictest. 

“I trust you.” You murmur, allowing him access as your fever picks back up. Your hands cling to his body, pulling him down as he lines himself up with your entrance. Your head tosses back as you wait for the release, shuddering underneath him. 

Everything falls away when he pushes into you. It's like pieces of a puzzle finally clicking together and all the pain and the heat falls away. It's replaced by pure ecstasy. The forest and the fire, the wind and the moon are lost on you as he rocks into you. There's nothing but him in this moment. You gasp, never having been so full, mind and body, than right now. Arthur's eyes flash red as he groans deeply, keeping a slow hard pace as you gasp underneath him.

"Feel better?" Arthur grunts, nose tucked into your collarbone as he inhales your scent with every thrust. You smell so damn good. It's driving him mad, driving him into you. You're the most addictive drug he's ever tried, and he knows no matter how much he has you it won't ever be enough. 

"It feels so good, Arthur. You make me feel so good." You moan, wrapping your arms around his torso. You hang onto him like a ship at sea, and he surely rocks you like one. His hips roll into you in the most delirious way imaginable, and before long you're a moaning, mewling mess underneath him. 

The stretch is almost painful, but the pleasure is indescribable as your tether returns. It's not painful, just a buzz reminding you that you're mated to the man above you. It adds to your growing pleasure, vibrating through your core. Arthur's arms strain as he holds back, grunting and groaning as he fights his nature. 

"You're holding back." You point out in a breathy whimper. Arthur's squinted eyes open, and his red orbs lock onto yours. 

"You're human…" He groans, "Don't wanna hurt you." 

"I can handle it." You mewl, needing more of him. He shakes his head, hesitating before you reiterate, "Alpha, I trust you. Please."

Arthur snaps, and at your admission, his instincts take over. His nose digs into your neck, and he bites the skin there lightly as he drives into you hard. He's not holding back anymore, and your body rocks against the bedroll as he drills into you, growling into your ear. 

Its raw, animalistic and incredible. Arthur leaves bruises on your hips and yet his lips leave kisses on your neck. Even when he gives up control, he's still a gentleman, still making sure you're comfortable and feeling loved. 

The moon shines down brightly, casting you both in a colorless glow. The deep contrast of red irises bore into your soul as you claw at Arthur's chest, losing your composure. You've never felt such an intense pleasure. It builds and builds until you fear the snap, you're not sure it can get better than this, but you push the boundary nonetheless. 

"Don't stop, Arthur." You moan.

"I won't. Christ, you smell so good." Arthur growls, surrounding himself in your scent as he pumps into you. He can feel your approaching orgasm, making this an almost otherworldly experience. The juxtaposition of two people's pleasure in one body is unfathomably good, and you nearly scream as you peak. 

You yell out a slew of his name until he silences you with his lips. You moan into his mouth, tasting the blood on his lips from his earlier bite. He holds you tight, hips sputtering and quickening their pace as he finishes in you.

You both climax together, and it seems to last a lifetime. Feeling each other's pleasure makes for a long, powerful finish. His lips are still on yours as his eyes glow brighter than you've ever seen them, and then with a heavy pant they bleed back to that familiar blue/green. 

His forehead rests on yours as he catches his breath, beads of sweat sliding down his nose as his instincts leave him somewhat. Immediately he's worried that amidst his loss of control he'd hurt you. 

"You're okay? I didn't hurt you, did I?" Arthur asks, looking down over your body as he slides out. You wince from overstimulation, shaking your head. 

"No, you didn't hurt me. That was incredible." You smile, gripping his hand in yours. There it is again, that buzzing. It's content now, comfortable. Arthur lets you rest for a moment, peppering kisses along your neck and chest. He runs his tongue over the bite marks on your neck, soothing the sting as you rest under him. 

The wind howls, giving you a chill as goosebumps ripple over your body. Arthur notices this, and he stands from the ground, scooping you up again as you yelp. It's nothing for him to carry you. He also grabs one of your shirts from the ground, holding it in his hands as he begins to carry you away from camp. 

"Where are you takin' me?" You ask, feeling suddenly sleepy as your head lulls back on his big strong arm. He carries you down the bank, ducking under pine trees as he walks bare through the forest. 

"Goin' to get you cleaned up. I told you I'd take care of you. It's my job now, my responsibility. " Arthur hums, seeming satisfied with his new title. 

He carries you down through the woods, following the scent of a path he'd taken before. There's a deep pond down here with crystal clear water, a perfect spot for a bath. Naturally, Marley follows, keeping a comfortable distance behind you both.

You almost fall asleep in his arms. He's wholly satisfied you tonight, both mind and body. You feel so safe, so connected to him. The dirt is soft under Arthur's feet as he pads down to the pond. Insects chirp in the night and owls hoot, but the sound you focus on is Arthur's heartbeat under your ear. It's faster than a normal one, must be a wolf thing. 

You hear when his feet splash into the water as he walks down the slope. You expect it to be cold, but the water is warm as he lets you stand in it. He helps you down until you're on your feet in clay and sand with the water lapping just under your chest. The full moon shines brightly, casting a white glow over the water. Arthur's hand remains around your waist as you take in the night's beauty. 

You dip under the water, submerging yourself fully in the warm pond. You stay under for a few moments, listening to your heartbeat in your ears as your body sings with a fulfillment and a purpose. When you emerge again your hair is slicked back with wetness and water clings to your eyelashes in little droplets. Arthur's hand cups your cheek as you look to him, and he leans in to press a soft kiss to your lips. 

His lips are tender and loving as he showers you in aftercare. You lean into his kiss, licking his bottom lip with a groan. When you pull away, Arthur begins to wash you up. He uses his hands to pour big handfuls of water over your shoulders, tenderly wiping the sweat and the dirt away from your face with the shirt he’d brought. His hands are soft despite the callouses that adorn them. Arthur is careful in his actions, wiping and washing your skin until it is all freshly cleaned.

Once he deems you cleaned up, he gathers you into his arms again, and begins carrying you back to your camp. You smile at the fact that he seems to carry you everywhere now, but you don't mind. Poor Ares has some competition it seems. Arthur walks back up the bank, his chest humming under your body. You lean into his endless pool of warmth, nearly falling asleep again. Arthur places you carefully down on your bedroll near the fire. He gives you time to get dressed, and you pull your shirt over your arms. 

You hear him shift behind you, and as his instincts take over, he runs the perimeter of camp, checking for any threats or potential harms to you. His nose is on the ground as he picks up the scent of a coyote, but the scent is old enough that he's sure it won't bring any harm to you. If anything does, he won't hesitate to kill it. 

You find yourself drifting off, curled up tightly under the stars. You're close to the fire, but still, you shiver from the cold night. 

You smile as Arthur lines your back, his thick fur warming you as you turn and lean into him. He licks your cheek lightly, sighing contentedly as you pet his soft coat.

What a day it has been. It's changed the course of your life. You never would have imagined yourself mated to a werewolf, that's for sure. The stars shine nearly as bright as Arthur's eyes as he watches you drift off through wolf's eyes. He's so warm, you can't help it. Everything about him makes you feel safe and comfortable and loved. You know he loves you, you can feel it through your shared emotions. You love him too, you're sure, but neither of you make a move to say it yet. 

The moon shines proudly, watching over her new mated pair. She has pulled two together again, worked miracles and formed one of the rarest pairs known to the earth– a werewolf and a human. 

You nuzzle into his fur, feeling whole– complete. You've found your other half, and he's found his.

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