#werewolf regency

[sweaterkittensahoy]

Wooo! Book rec! I am HERE for it.

how can you tell

[tiffbaxter]

☁️The Werewolf's Lament ☁️

Illustration for @soulmuppet's ttrpg Paint the Town Red.

[regency-monster-love]

Monstertober day 26: full moon

Male werewolf x female human | Regency era | NSFW: oral, piv, rough, knotting, breeding, biting

The werewolf thought it best to send himself away from the estate for his first full moon since his marriage, but his new bride insisted he stay.

“I knew I was marrying a werewolf, and I've seen you, once, in that form.” Granted, it had not been during a full moon, but she had seen it. “Besides, you can’t just leave home once a month, year after year, for decades.”

She had a point there—she’d have to experience a full moon with him eventually. He hadn't thought this through enough before proposing to a human woman, but he had just been too desperately in love to worry about such details.

Now, he was worrying.

“You don't understand what you're asking for,” he told her. “I cannot stop myself from shifting that night, no matter what.”

“I know—”

“And I cannot stop myself from mating with you that night. As the wolf.”

“Oh.” She paused. “But you won't be an actual wolf. Surely the, ah, mating can't be that different.”

“It will be completely different,” he stated firmly.

“Oh,” she repeated in a faint voice.

They'd only been married about a fortnight, and so far she’d found the marital act…acceptable. Her husband was not demanding or rough, simply did his duty under the covers and her nightgown, in the dark, quietly, and then he kissed her and left. The act was sometimes mildly pleasurable to her, but she felt a strange sort of disappointment after it was over and she was alone in her bedroom again.

She wondered whether the difference he spoke of would make sex worse or better.

“I am not afraid,” she told him steadfastly.

“I am,” he replied.

~🐺~

In the end, he did not leave for the full moon, though he certainly could have defied his wife to do so. Perhaps he disliked saying no to her, or perhaps—though he would not admit this to himself—his desire to take her as the wolf outweighed his fear of how she would react to it.

The night of the full moon, he let his wife remain in the room with him to witness his transformation, and as soon as it was complete, before she could say a word, he leapt at her and snatched her up. His mind was already clouded over with the instincts and urges of the wolf, his prick already swelling and pushing free of his sheath. Already he could not recall why he'd wanted to separate them this night—she was his mate, made just for this, for him to breed.

She gasped as his long claws ripped her nightgown off her body, and instinctively tried to cover herself with her hands—they'd always had sex with nightshirts on—but he snarled and pinned her hands to the bed. “No! I want to see what's mine.”

She shivered at how much deeper and rougher his voice sounded now; when he had shown her his wolf form once before, his voice had been lower in pitch, but nothing like this. Yet she could still recognize this growling rumble as her husband's voice, and it reassured her that she was still safe with this wild creature.

The werewolf released her hands to grab her hips and hoist them into the air, close to his face. “Wh-what are you doing?” she exclaimed.

“I want to taste what's mine, too,” he rasped out, and thrust his muzzle against her cunt.

She cried out at the rough, fast lapping of his tongue against her most intimate place. Never before had he used his mouth on her there, and it was overwhelming both at how new it was and how glorious it felt. Pleasure swept through her like a hot summer storm at every swipe and plunge and flick of his long tongue.

The werewolf found it glorious as well. He had never tasted anything as intoxicating as his mate! He'd craved tasting her for so long, but that wasn't how a gentleman would make love to his wife, so he had refrained. But there would be no refraining from any of his desires tonight. He was not a gentleman, he was a wolf, and he intended to show her exactly what that meant.

He knew by her scent that it frightened her a bit, at first, but arousal was there too, and the sour undercurrent of fear soon faded entirely against the much stronger spicy-sweet scent. Never before had he smelled such potent arousal from her, and it made him preen inside, happy and proud to be bringing his mate such pleasure.

She moaned and writhed in his grip, overcome by an ecstasy that somehow was still building. Surely she could take no more, and yet she was; it continued to build, and build, and then all her muscles went taut as the pleasure erupted and utterly, blissfully consumed her entire being.

The werewolf shuddered at the feel of her cunt pulsing around his tongue. This too was new, and now that he’d felt it on his tongue, he needed to feel it on his cock—right now, and then every day hereafter.

He withdrew his tongue and flipped her over onto her belly—the position another first—then hoisted her hips up to meet his. His cock brushed against her dripping folds as he did so, and he rocked his hips to do it again, coating his length with her slick to ready himself. She looked back over her shoulder at him. “What—”

“This is how wolves breed their good little mates,” he growled, and drove into her. A shocked cry left her lips, and he grabbed her hair to keep her head turned back toward him. He leaned closer to her face, baring his teeth in a grin. “And good little mates take it.”

He was already driving his hips against her fast, unable to temper himself when the full moon was compelling him to surrender to his basest, most animalistic qualities. And he didn’t regret his surrender. Her cunt felt heavenly, and just like home, enveloping his cock in its tight, warm embrace. This was where he was meant to be, inside her, and she was meant to take him.

He leaned even farther forward, pressing his furry belly to her sweat-slicked back so he could lick her neck. “You are so sweet for me, little lamb, taking my cock so well, just like a good mate should,” he rumbled.

She whimpered, enjoying his praise but too bombarded with sensation to form any coherent response. It felt as though she was being split open with every one of his savage thrusts, and yet she adored the exhilaration of it and the satisfying fullness of her cunt on each forward slide.

“Good mates get bred with pups,” he panted as his knot knocked against her entrance again and again. “I’m going to give you my knot, my seed, breed you with my pups.”

He could smell her arousal flare at his words, and the biting scent made his frenzy for her all the greater. He rose onto his feet, still fucking her, but crouching further over her back so he could drill his cock down into her with even greater force. The edge of his knot began to breach her, and he snarled at how close he was now. Never before had he knotted her, but tonight he’d have her locked on his knot over and over again, bloated with his seed all night long.

The full moon demanded it.

She felt herself stretching farther and farther each time he pounded that bump at the base of his cock against her. It seemed impossibly big, and yet she knew, somehow, that her body could take it. And she wanted to take it. She wanted to be a good mate, like he had said. She wanted him to give her his seed and swell her with his babies. She wanted it all.

“Bite me!” she cried out. He’d told her before what it would do, connecting them indelibly as mates, a bond even stronger than the marriage vows they’d said before God. It was why he hadn’t done it yet, though he’d told her that she was his mate. He had wanted her to be sure. But oh! she was sure. She loved him, and she wanted them to be as connected as it was possible for two souls to be.

He didn’t hesitate. How could he, with the power of the full moon coursing through him and his mate’s pretty plea ringing in his ears and her delicious scent filling his snout? He just obeyed, opening his jaws and clamping down on her shoulder.

Her screams rang in his sharp ears as the taste of her blood burst on his tongue and the feel of their mating bond pierced into the marrow of his bones, and with one last wild thrust he’d shoved his entire knot into her cunt. It clamped down around him, clenching in waves just like it had done before on his tongue, and he knew he was locked within her. He snapped his hips even farther forward and his seed erupted from his cock, his knot throbbing with each glorious spurt he shot into his mate’s womb. He lifted his mouth from her shoulder and howled in triumph as his cock kept pouring his seed into her.

The heat and fullness of it felt incredible to her. He’d spent inside her before, of course, but never had it felt like this, with his knot locking everything inside, allowing her to revel in the sensation of wholeness it gave her.

He soothed over the bite on her shoulder with his tongue. She felt its sting, but even that pain was somehow pleasurable to her, and she sighed happily.

“Are you well, little lamb?” he asked quietly.

“Yes, my love.”

Carefully he tilted them over onto their sides, curling his big furry body around her small smooth one. His giant clawed hand stroked over her soft belly. He couldn’t wait for it to grow round with his pup.

“You were right: it was very different,” she murmured.

“An agreeable difference, or a bad one?”

“The best one.”

“I’m gratified to hear that.” He gently rocked his hips against her, nudging his knot around inside the channel where it was still locked tight, making her breath hitch. “Because as soon as this goes down, we’re doing it again.”

~ 😈🎩 ~

Read all of my Regency monster ficlets and snippets at the tag “my writing.”

[niuniente]

I hope Bemma and the funky vampire guy kill the ballroom dance floor.

Werewolf Regency House Party by @magicratfingers

[hilunarart]

Charming gentleman Bront from "Werewolf regency house party" (you should go read it!!!) by @magicratfingers

[ratfingerspress]

[theromanticartist]

Pride & Blood: Mr. Darcy Vampire

‘Pride and Prejudice’ meets ‘Twilight’

Check out the first 10 episodes for FREE, available only on Kindle Vella US.

In this fantasy retelling of Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice, Mr. Darcy, a Vampire Lord, hides his true nature behind a stoic facade. Captivated by the sharp-minded Elizabeth Bennet, he finds himself torn between his ardent love for her and his dangerous instincts. When Lady Catherine de Bourgh, an Elder Vampire head of his Coven, learns of the forbidden romance, she vows to eliminate Elizabeth. Complicating matters is George Wickham, a seductive werewolf with a dark past linked to Darcy.

Continue reading for free here.

[punkpoemprose]

At Your Service- A Kristanna Regency Werewolf AU

Universe: Regency AU/ Werewolf AU

Rating:  M (Mature, Moderately descriptive oral sex)

Length: 5029 Words

A/N: I started writing this for @karis-the-fangirl way back in 2019, I apologize for the sheer quantity of plot in this porn.

The Bjorgman family had been in service to the Lord of Arendelle for generations, or at least this was what Anna had always been told. The only Bjorgman that she had ever known was Kristoff, and he’d never really “served” in the traditional sense of the word.  Household staff had always been rarely seen outside of their duties, and never heard unless first spoken to, and while Anna’s parents were much less strict toward their staff compared to others (according to the whispers she’d managed to catch from the staff), no one was treated with more familiarity than Kristoff Bjorgman.

Servants didn’t normally attend classes with the family’s private tutor, nor were they often invited to visit the main house, casually, as if they were a guest. Children of servants didn’t normally receive wrapped toys under the tree beside those belonging to the children of the house, and they certainly weren’t welcome to come and go as they pleased from nearly every area of the estate without question.

Sometimes as children, they would play together, but he was a strange child in many ways and was often disinterested in the play that Anna and Elsa engaged in. Mostly he was just the adopted son of the gardener and his wife, Bulda and Cliff Solberg, a boy afforded more familiarity with the lord and lady of the house and their girls than his station called for.

To Anna he was anything but ordinary. She’d always liked him in her youth because of his uncanny ability to be in the right place at the right time, which given the quantity of scrapes he’d managed to free her from, had always made her grateful.

That ability to show up just when he was needed was how he served Anna and how he’d served her since their youth days. The first instance she could recall had been when she’d been five. She’d climbed a tree, and each time she’d glanced at the grass below she’d found that she’d been too afraid to climb back down. Elsa, in her sickness, had been no help, simply watching her sister from her bedroom window in a sorrowful sort of defeat. Anna hadn’t been able to hear a word she’d seen her sister’s mouth make that day, but she’d heard enough “sorry Anna”s by that age to know that her sister’s helplessness was something that she felt great remorse for, despite being unable to control it.

Kristoff had found her though, even though she hadn’t made a peep and had been hidden among the leaves in her green dress. She’d known that he hadn’t been told where she was because Elsa had been the only one to see her, from the window, climbing into the tree and Kristoff had found her from the opposite side of the estate.

He’d climbed up to her and helped her make her way down for supper, saving her the sort of concern from the adults in the household that would have only served to further limit her freedom.

While her nursemaid had been none too pleased, both with her ward’s naughtiness in disappearing for close to an hour and for the disheveled appearance she’d reappeared in, she’d been spared any kind of real punishment and hasn’t missed the chocolate cake that had been served as dessert.

When she turned eight, her mother and father had purchased her the half-wild mare she’d desired since word from town first came about the beautiful creature that a local innkeeper had claimed as payment for the room and board of some duke’s fifth son, a disreputable sort of cad with twelve other brothers, the youngest being just a few years older than Anna herself. He hadn’t wanted to pay and one of her father’s men of business had been dispatched to deal with the whole business as a favor to the kindly innkeeper who was the son of one of Lord Arendelle’s tenant farmers.

They’d always had difficulty in denying Anna her whims, likely because they were so limited in their ability to spend time with her and for the guilt that her sister’s illness frequently disallowed play. They’d agreed to Anna’s ownership of the horse, of course, on the condition that one of the grooms they employed would train the creature and that she would not go near it until it was well and thoroughly broken.

Anna had, of course, as her age and manner demanded, snuck out the night it arrived. Her bare feet had been shoved into her riding boots and she’d tossed her mother’s shawl over her night dress before she’d moved across the grounds by starlight. She’d crept along like a ghost, moving like a ghost in the dark, fearing that if she had lit a lantern or candle to aid in her crossing that she would have been seen and subsequently caught.

She’d stumbled a bit as she made her way to the stables, tripping on unseen patches of uneven earth on the lawn that were easily traversable by day, but terrifyingly hazardous by night.

Slipping into the stables had been far simpler than making the crossing as the enclosed space, still unlit, was familiar enough to her by touch that she had been able to traverse it blindfolded with only her pinky finger for a guide, while hopping on one leg.

Her mother had always been strangely attuned to nature for a woman of her station, helping her husband frequently when making decisions relating to the estate’s grounds and those tenant farmers who tended to them. That she was an equestrian and encouraged the same for both of her daughters, even Elsa for whom it was excellent exercise for her weak lungs, was a surprise to no one who knew her. From the tender age of five, when she’d been given her first pony, Anna had well earned her familiarity with the stables, and it had often served her well on her evening extracurricular visits.

She’d been overconfident that night though. She’d climbed into the stall of her new horse, expecting fully to simply lock eyes with the beast and find the understanding there required for her to ride him bareback in the moonlight. She’d been imagining it for the whole day and felt thoroughly prepared for the dream scenario.

She had wanted to prove, once and for all, that she was much more grown-up, intelligent, and talented than anyone gave her credit for. She’d been ready to do just about anything on that night other than stumble backwards into the wood of the stall as the horse spooked at her presence before him. She hadn’t been prepared for the horse, as was its nature, to lash out with his hooves.

Anna had only just opened her mouth to scream, when a growling sound came from behind her, which caused the horse to shy away from her and back toward the opposite end of its stall. This had the fortunate side effect of leaving Anna herself blessedly unmarred.

She had been both pleased and utterly unsurprised when Kristoff unlocked the stable door, pulled her back out of the space and said something under his voice that seemed to tentatively calm the horse.

She’d heard the gate relatch and he’d effortlessly captured her hand, led her through the dark as if it were day, and brought her out into the moon and star lit yard where she’d been able to see him for the first time properly in the light of that evening.

The look in his eye had been almost feral, but she hadn’t been frightened by it. She’d known by sound, by touch, that it had been Kristoff that had rescued her all along. She’d been familiar enough with him for years by that time to know when he was around, and when she’d looked at him in the light of the three quarters moon, she’d sighed in appreciative relief and promised him cookies from the kitchen if he didn’t tell anyone what she’d done.

The feral look in his eye never left, even when he’d nodded in agreement that he wouldn’t tattle. Kristoff always had something a little wild in his eye, and while he was grumpy and standoffish at times, Anna returned to her bed and slept easy knowing that the older child was always kind, gentle, and above all else, true to his word.

When she was twelve, there’d been a terrible winter storm that had made roads impassable. She remembered being glad for it because it meant that Kristoff, who was meant to be going into town with his adopted father, as the often did, would not be able to go as scheduled and could instead join them at Elsa’s fifteenth birthday dinner.

He hadn’t come though. She’d been disappointed for Elsa, for whom she and Kristoff were the closest thing she had to actual friends. Elsa hadn’t seemed upset with him for not attending and that had annoyed Anna a bit.

She’d grown closer to Kristoff as they’d aged and while he mostly kept to himself, he never seemed to mind when Anna came to watch him work, or when she came just to talk. That she’d begun to develop a small crush on him at the time had been completely unrelated to her disappointment of course, of so she’d told herself.

The dinner had been boring if not a bit somber. Her parents had seemed to be horribly distracted through the whole affair, and Elsa had later chalked it up to the terribly howling sounds outside the window. Anna had attributed it to the wind, but Elsa had, almost absent mindedly said that it hadn’t been the wind at all. She’d refused to elaborate, even when Anna had begged.

Her parents had been gone for three years.

Anna was eighteen, just hours short of nineteen, and was anxiously waiting for some extended relative or another to reach out and offer her an introduction to the ton. Her several times distant cousin Owen and his wife should be the ones to do so, given that upon their father’s death the title of Lord Arendelle fell to him, but she doubted that either would be willing. He was still rather displeased about his lot in life as her father’s crafty will writing had meant that while the girls could not, by unfortunate and archaic law, gain his title, their home and his businesses had passed fully to their shared ownership after the accident.

The slight had left her listless. Elsa had never been introduced due to her health, and after an extended mourning and legal ordeal, she had not been willing to seek out such an additional responsibility. Elsa, at one and twenty, was not yet a spinster, but she was certainly intending to become one and though Anna could not imagine what it would be like to meet and marry a man at court, she’d always longed for a family of her own.

For many years she’d been sure of who she’d wanted to achieve that with.

Kristoff had been so good to them since their father’s passing. He was no longer the small wild eyed sometimes-playmate of her youth but was now a strongly built and handsome man. He’d been a man for some time, but his dedication to the Arendelle family hadn’t changed when the title of lord had passed, and even when his own adoptive parents had retired and moved to a small cottage in the hills, he’d stayed. His official employment at the estate was stablemaster, but he’d never been a traditional servant, and he certainly wasn’t now either.

He'd helped Elsa learn the physical sides of the family’s business, shown her to the tenant farms and explained the ways of the earth around them in ways that no tutor, nor their father, could have ever prepared them for. He was a better help than any man of business had been so far, and Anna knew that he never looked down on Elsa’s ability to be head of household just because she was a woman. Many others were not so kind, and tried and failed to take advantage of Elsa.

Beyond that, he’d been in and out of Anna’s life for the past year in a deeply confusing manner that had brought her both profound joy and immense heartbreak.

She’d always been half in love with Kristoff and he’d always been patient and kind with her. For the past year she’d often sought him out, her obligations to the family business being far less involved than Elsa’s which often left her with the time to darken his doorstep with her boredom.

Sometimes they’d talked. Sometimes she’d read to him while he’d tended to the horses. Sometimes he’d brushed an out of place lock of hair from her eyes and sometimes she’d slipped her hand into his and he’d held it. Sometimes she’d watched from the window of her bedroom, on nights he was meant to be away, and saw him enter the storage shed in the field and not leave for hours.

“Leave it alone Anna,” Elsa had said when Anna had told her about Kristoff’s seemingly monthly nighttime sojourns into the shed.

She frankly should have known that Anna never left anything alone.  

She’d kissed Kristoff in the hayloft. She’d pressed herself to him and he’d held her close, kissing her softly at first, and then with intensity as they’d backed into the wooden wall together. He’d growled into her mouth, lifted her, and turned so that she’d been against the wall. Her legs had spread easily for him and he’d kissed her like a man starved while she bemoaned the length of her skirts and the manner in which the fabric of their clothes separated them. She’d wanted to simply tear them off, propriety be danmed, but that was the last thought she’d had before he’d stopped, set her on her feet, and walked away and down the ladder.

She’d hardly seen him since.

When she’d noticed him walking to the shed, she couldn’t help herself but to follow.

They needed to talk and she was not about to start leaving well enough alone now. She’d spent long enough trying to not care about his monthly disappearances.

She waited until he was in the shed, but she couldn’t quite wait until the sun had fully set, not wanting to trip around in the dark, and not wanting to bring a lantern to alert anyone of her late night excursions even though she could go where she pleased.

He jumped in surprise when the door opened and Anna, for her part, was as shocked by his appearance as she was by hers.

Kristoff, her friend, the man she’d been imagining herself marrying for well over a year, was naked as the day he was born. That in and of itself was enough of a shock. She’d seen him without a shirt before, but this was entirely different and far more uncomfortable because she hadn’t accidentally walked in on him bathing, she’d found him naked, chained by the wrists and ankles to a sturdy metal bracket that was bolted into the wall of the shed.   

“Kristoff, oh my God!”

She crossed the small space in a few hurried steps, reaching her hands toward the sturdy metal around his wrists, reeling again with shock when he thrust his hands out toward her asking her to stop. She noticed the key in his hand before she forced her feet to halt.

“Anna, you need to go.”

She blinked, her heart racing and her mind moving far too slowly to understand any of what was before her.

“Who?”

She couldn’t get the question out of her mouth in its full form because she’d noticed something else.

Neatly folded on the top of a wooden box, she found his clothes, and on the wooden walls around the space he was chained, she saw scratch marks, deep, old scratch marks.

“Anna, you need to go!”

He repeated the instruction, this time more forcefully, a terror in his eyes that was so like the wildness he’d shown as a child, Anna was enthralled by it.

She could hear his words just fine. She knew what the command was, but she wasn’t sure why she couldn’t follow it. Maybe it was the shock, maybe it was because she truly couldn’t leave well enough alone, and needed to figure out what exactly she’d walked into before she allowed her brain and body to follow a different command.

The key in his hands caught her eye again.

“Who chained you Kristoff? Why aren’t you using that key?”

He growled in frustration, and Anna swore she saw his lip curl, almost like a dog.

“I did Anna. I did because I need to be… I can’t explain… Anna, you need to go. Run!”

His voice sounded deeper when he spoke, and she was, for a split second, afraid.

“I’m not going to leave you here, chained to a wall, without an explanation Kristoff. Is this what you do every month? Why?”

The unspoken question was why this, when taking a tumble in the hayloft is evidently too strange and uncomfortable to go through with.

He shook his head and seemed to realize that there was little he could say to make her leave. He had always been good at understanding that she was hard to stop when she got something in her head. She supposed that’s why he’d always been around to help her out of the situations that she got herself into rather than being around to try to stop her from getting into trouble in the first place.

“Please Anna, the sun is setting, the moon…”

“I don’t care Kristoff, I’ve been walking across the lawn in the dark since the first time I tried sneaking out on my own, you know that isn’t going to be enough to send me insi…” she didn’t finish because he grimaced, clearly in pain as he fell to his knees onto the dirt floor.

“Please, Anna… I can’t protect you from me. I’m trying but I…” his words were likewise cut off by a snarl of pain that seemed far too animal to come from his throat.

She fell to her knees in return, ignoring his protests and all put crawling across the floor to get to him.

He threw the key across the room, clearly panicked, but she knew as it sailed past her, that he wasn’t throwing it at her. He was tossing it away from himself. Anna swore that when he gritted his teeth, his canines were sharp.

“You don’t have to protect me from you Kristoff. I don’t know what’s going on here, but if this is some kind of twisted self-discipline for what happened in the hayloft… please don’t, I’m sorry if I didn’t understand but…”

“No, Anna, you don’t…”

He cried in pain again, his hands going to the dirt floor and scratching up large fistfuls of the Earth, his nails, like his teeth, appearing longer and sharper.

She was starting to feel afraid, but she knew that what she’d said was true. He didn’t need to protect her from him.

“You’d never hurt me Kristoff, but you’re hurting, please let me help… I’m scared.”

Her hands were shaking when she reached toward him, her hands settling atop his on the floor, her trembling fingers trying their hardest to trace soothing paths across the back of his hands that were far hairier than she recalled them being.

“Anna, I can’t promise when I’m like this,” he growled, “I can’t promise I won’t hurt you, I can’t promise I won’t take what I want.”

She didn’t understand, not fully, but something in her, despite her fear, softened at his words. He sounded even more scared than she was, but his fear was misplaced.

“You wouldn’t hurt me, you couldn’t Kristoff, not in any way that matters because you…” she shook her head, trying to find words that made sense despite the situation not making any.

“You could never take from me what I wouldn’t freely give.”

His back arched and the pained sounds crescendoed as his hands released the dirt and lightning quick, pulled her by her waist across the floor and toward him.

She was dully aware of the sounds of clattering chains when her eyes went up to meet his. Normally brown, his eyes had gone gold, his face was his and not because she knew in her racing heart that the wolf baring its teeth at her was Kristoff.

The rest of the change was only peripherally comprehensible to her. His nakedness was covered by hair and she could feel it warm and soft against her hands in the place they’d landed when she’d been forcefully pinned to his body. His hands were gripping her hips, his nails digging into her skin uncomfortably, but not painfully.

“I would take everything Anna.”

His voice was his own, spoken deep and rough from his wolf mouth. It was meant as a threat. She could feel his grip on her slacken as he said it, the control he seemed to believe he didn’t posses rearing its head, allowing her time to run now that she could understand the situation more clearly.

“I would give everything Kristoff.”

She hadn’t needed to think about it. Her heart was still racing with adrenaline, but despite the instinctual fear she felt, she knew she was safe.

“You can’t… You can’t say that, I won’t be able to…” “So don’t,” she interrupted, “Don’t stop yourself. Don’t make me think that I’ve imagined this… don’t make me wonder if you want me again.”

Kristoff was a werewolf. She was beginning to understand the nights away now. She understood why her mother had uncomfortably read them werewolf stories from her family’s handwritten folktales.

The growls he made were pained in a different way as he pulled her close again, his hands, large and clawed, pulling so hard on the outer skirts of her dress that she heard the fabric tearing.

“I want you Kristoff… just let go.”

He did as he was told, releasing her.

She nearly told him that it wasn’t what she meant, when he captured her again, pulling her with him as close to the wall where he was chained as he could manage to get, allowing his limbs the most range of motion possible.

“I don’t want to take you like this Anna,” he growled, “I don’t want the wolf to taste you first.”

Anna felt hot all over, he’d nestled her onto his lap and she could feel the press of his cock against her thigh. “Taste?” She leaned in close to his face and tried to imagine how he’d manage such a feat the way he was changed. She thought it would be hard enough to kiss him properly like this, let alone with the intensity that had him tasting her mouth in the hayloft.

“Your cunt Anna.”

“Oh.”

She felt like she couldn’t breathe. She’d wanted sex in the hayloft. She’d wanted him to claim her. She’d wanted him so badly it hurt.

Now the roles were reversed and she let her lashes flutter closed, picturing what that might be like with him, with him like this.

“I want your scent all over me, smells so good. You’re already wet, I know you are.”

It was true. She wondered if it was wrong that she wanted it, that she wanted such a thing with him when he was like this. She loved him, and she wanted him, and she would have him any way he would allow her to. That felt like it was reason enough for it to be right.

“Okay.”

He growled and it was the end of her skirts.

They fluttered around her in tatters when he pressed forward and laid her onto the dirt floor, one large arm beneath her for support before it shifted to lifting her hips, demonstrating to her more clearly than anything else, that this was her Kristoff, and he wouldn’t let her fall.

His other hand was busying itself making ribbons of her undergarments, and she was grateful that she hadn’t worn anything she thought of as a favorite item.

“You have to tell me to stop if you want me to stop, hell you might have to run. I’ll try not to chase.”

His voice was even more animal when he spoke of chasing her. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t stop,” she told him, “I want this. Don’t be sorry, just promise me you won’t hate yourself in the morning.”

“How could I ever hate myself for this?”

He adjusted their positions slightly and ducked his head to her raised thighs.

Sharp teeth nipped at her inner thighs, but she knew that despite that animal urge to mark her, to maybe even make her like him, he wouldn’t hurt her. There was an almost pleasant sensation of dull scraping as he nipped her thighs, and she cried out when his snout rubbed against her.

He gave little warning, only animal groans, when he started his work.

His tongue was large and rough as he pressed it to her folds, his nose rubbing her clit and making her shout with pleasure.

“Kristoff, god, yes!”

Spurred on by her enthusiasm, he licked and sucked and rubbed with relish.

It was so much better than anything she could have imagined on her own. It was better than how it had felt to touch herself for sure, and while she was still getting used to seeing Kristoff in such a changed state, she was able to let her eyes flutter closed and trust that he would make her feel good.

She was almost embarrassed by how quickly her pleasure built, how easy it was for him to wring it from her with just the right combination of tongue and teeth.

He lapped at her appreciatively, growling and nuzzling at her thighs until finally the beast in him seemed calmed.

She laid on him, his body insulating hers from the floor because she wasn’t going anywhere in her tattered dress and she didn’t want him to let go of her for even a moment. His form was different, but the way he held her protectively and kept her warm was exactly what she knew to expect from her Kristoff.

He’d seemed jumpy for a few minutes after she’d come for him, but she suspected that it had been a product of his restraint and form fighting for control of his cock. She wanted to tell him that he didn’t need to, but she thought that maybe it would be best to work through this situation before she told him to fuck her against the wall. “Anna, I… I’m sorry I’ve…”

She shook her head, sated and sleepy against his chest.

“You’re not allowed to be sorry for that Kristoff. It would be like apologizing for giving me a gift.”

The wolf in him was at least somewhat sated and the need in her was as well… unless of course he was offering her another orgasm.

“Anna, I’ve ruined you.”

She nearly laughed, but thought better of it.

“Kristoff I’ve been ruined for other men since you decided to stay when your parents left service last year. I don’t want anyone else, I want you… and now even more. You’ve been suffering alone with this for so long and I want so badly to make sure you never are alone like that ever again.”

She remembered the sounds of a crying wolf that often featured in her childhood nights. She so badly wished that she had known sooner, so that she could have been a friend for him then.

“I almost broke the chains last month… since you started giving me your attentions it’s been nearly impossible not to run up to the house and break down every door between us. I thought I would be worse this time because of how close we had come in the stable, but without the chase I had a little more control.”

“Why was it only close in the stable?”

His hands, sharp nails and all, were gentle on her back, tracing small shapes through the remaining fabric even as his arms held her tightly to him.

“Because you deserve better than a stable boy for a husband and I knew that if I took an inch I’d take a mile.”

She thought of how she’d seen him naked when she’d first walked in and she wasn’t sure how many inches she would have been able to take of him, let alone how many inches he had to offer like this, but  she was excited to find out someday. He could have her for every mile he wanted.

“I don’t deserve the stable master I want as a husband,” she corrected, “but if he’s willing to take less than he deserves, he can take me for that tumble in the hayloft tomorrow.”

He scoffed and despite her feeling somewhat certain that he wouldn’t be back to his usual self until the morning, he sounded a little more like his usual self already.

“You deserve more than a tumble Anna… I want to do more than just fuck you, and I want to do it someplace much nicer than a hayloft.”

“Frankly,” she said, nuzzling into his chest, feeling both like they’d done this all a bit out of order, and like this was the most perfect thing she’d ever done. “As long as it’s with you I don’t even mind the shed.”

He laughed and she begrudgingly removed herself from his hold.

“I’m going to look for that key. I think we’re not going to need it anymore.”

“Just move slowly,” he said, sitting up, “I’m a little worried that I won’t be so gentle if you run.”

Anna found, despite the newness and strangeness to this situation, that sometime soon, she would very much like to run. She thought, even more so, that she’d like to see what would happen once she was caught.

[plethoraworldatlas]

Dustin against Anti-wolf Hate

A wonderful commission from the great @magicratfingers!

They recently did a experimental test run on doing commissions and I snagged a spot and couldn't be happier with the experience and art! Lovely style, good communication, and quick completion; I'd love to do it again!

Check them out! They got tons of amazing things and little comics; Werewolf Regency House Party (how I found them!), spectacular Dimension 20 fanart, lovely Orc art, nice one-off comics, and more!

[slashyrogue]

AU-gust 2023 Day 10: Exiled

“Did you hear about the Prince?”

Will paused as he tied up his horse, feigning business, and watched as two noblemen spoke in hushed whispers.

“Oh yes,” the older of the two said, “I don’t believe it. A curse? It’s likely he’s dead, just like they say. The King and Queen would never exile the heir, not when the babe is so young. He’s gone and they won’t say for fear of retribution.”

He frowned as he headed into the market, ready with his wares, and thought about what the men had spoken of.

Was the Prince really dead and gone?

The last of the Lecter line, Hannibal was to be the heir come his twentieth nameday, and his Uncle and Aunt had taken over duties for nearly a decade now. They’d raised him as their own, cared for him, and Will could hardly imagine such loving people exiling their nephew.

It must be true then.

Hannibal was gone.

Continued in: AU-gust Writing Challenge 2023 -Chapter 10: Exiled

[magicratfingers]

prev / next

[tiffbaxter]

🌕The Werewolf's Embrace🌕

Another for @soulmuppet's Paint The Town Red

[regency-monster-love]

Part 1 of Colin and Susannah | Next chapter | Master post

Male werewolf x female human | Regency era | SFW but slightly suggestive | autumn fluff

~ 🐺🎩 ~

“I do so love autumn leaves.” Susannah bent to pick one up, a crimson red brighter than fresh blood, and twirled the stem of it between her slender fingers. “I will never tire of their vibrant colors.”

“That’s fitting, for I believe you’re a painter, are you not?” Colin asked her.

Her face brightened with a mixture of surprise and pleasure. “Indeed I am. But I don’t recall telling you so. How did you know?”

“More than once when we have met, I have smelt paint upon you.” She lifted her hands to peer at her fingers, as if the paint were still upon them, and he smiled. “I do not smell any now, but even if you had washed off all visible traces of it, I might still be able to detect that it was recently there. Werewolves have a very keen sense of smell.”

Ah yes. Sometimes it was easy for her to forget that Mr. Barrington was a werewolf. Her eyes roved over his face, so perfectly human and normal, save for his golden eyes that seemed almost to glow. She wondered what he looked like in his wolf form, but did not feel they were acquainted well enough to ask such a thing. “Even in your human form?”

“My senses are a bit dulled in this form, but very little. Even like this, I can smell that you used rosewater in your hair, and you ate raspberry preserves with your breakfast.”

Her cheeks flushed a pretty pink over her freckles, and she reached up to wipe at the corners of her mouth. The werewolf chuckled. “Don’t worry, Miss Oakden, there is no jam still on you; I simply can smell it.”

Her eyes widened. He was the first werewolf she had ever been personally acquainted with, and she found him endlessly fascinating. Thankfully, he was always patient with her questions, never acting offended by them or mocking her ignorance. “That’s remarkable! How can you smell it if it is gone?”

He shrugged. “I don’t pretend to understand the science behind it. It is simply an innate skill I possess. I can smell many things I cannot see.”

For instance, he could smell that she was his mate.

He did not mention this out loud. She would not understand; as a human, he knew she could not smell mating bonds, as his kind could, nor even feel the bond beyond the faintest vague sensation. He did not wish her to think he only cared for her due to the bond, when in reality, it was his admiration of her as a person that had caused the bond to form, not some higher power dictating his feelings. Even though she must feel at least some degree of affection for him as well, in order to enable the start of that bond, she might not realize her own feelings yet, and he did not want to distress, frighten, or confuse her.

He could smell her matehood even now, intangible yet so very real, thick and sweet in the space between them as they walked beside each other along the garden path of her parents’ estate. It urged him to stay close to her and protect her. It urged him to touch her, lick her, mount her, bite her—to make her his.

But he kept his hands clasped behind his back and a respectable distance between them as they slowly strolled the grounds, colorful leaves rustling under their feet. He could wait to have her, while he courted her in the manner of a gentleman, as she would expect. He would earn her love the way a human man would.

And once he had it, he would claim her the way a werewolf male would.

~ 🐺🎩 ~

End of part 1 of Colin and Susannah | Read next chapter

Read all of my Regency monster ficlets and snippets at the tag #my writing.

[anniesocsandgeneralstore]

@indynerdgirl requested: "#1 - werewolf, NFL, or Regency AU"

|| prompt list ||

prompt: watching their baby/babies sleep while holding each other in their arms

au: werewolf, nfl, & regency

word count: 750

warnings: domestic fluff to the max, dad!jake, some labor and delivery talk

✎……masterlist on pinned

✎……my b for this taking one million years, to make up for it, have a three-for-one special lol

Werewolf AU

Noah was fast asleep in the co-sleeper bassinet pushed up against the side of their bed. Swaddled up tight in a blanket green as the forests outside. The sun was just beginning to set on his first full day in this world. He would be awake in the next hour to eat again, but for now he was sound asleep under the watchful eye of his parents. 

Jake and Ronnie laid curled up next to the bassinet — her back to his chest. He was propped up on his elbow, temple rested in his palm as he rubbed soothing circles into his Luna’s hip, eyes trained entirely on the rise and fall of his son’s little chest. And Ronnie laid with her head upon the pillow, arms tucked to her chest as she fought the exhaustion pulling at her eyelids. 

She was tired. Down to something inside her that ached along with the rest of her body. Labor had been long and excruciating, but she had done it just how she wanted. At home, no medication, with Jake right there with her and the pack just outside. The pain was worth it. Noah was here, sleeping and perfect and everything she had been praying so long for. 

“You asleep, little one?” Jake asked softly, thumb coming to a rest on her hip. 

“No,” she replied, voice small and barely there. “Can’t stop looking at him.”

He chuckled lightly as he pressed a kiss into the side of her neck. “Me either.”

NFL AU

Jake hummed the tune of his favorite George Strait song softly as he laid Maddie down for the night. He kept as close to her as possible, bending over the wooden railing to leave her gently on the small mattress. She fussed when he pulled away, lips pursed and a whine catching in her throat. But she settled after only a moment with a sigh.

Not being able to help himself, Jake reached into the crib and rubbed the back of his finger over her soft, chubby cheek. She turned six months old today. He had to wonder where the time went. Pretty soon she would start walking and talking and not need him at all. He wanted her to just stay this little forever. It still hurt, twisted inside him like a knife, that at one point he didn’t want this. That he told Ronnie to just take care of it. His thumb ran over her warm cheek, trailed down her arm to her little hand curled at her side. It opened in her sleep like a flower, and closed again around his finger. All the trust in the world he felt he didn’t deserve. 

“She being fussy?” Ronnie asked quietly from the doorway, making Jake jump. 

“Nah,” he answered, pulling his finger out of Maddie’s grip. “She’s asleep.”

“Good.”

Ronnie padded into the room and came to stand at Jake’s side. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her in close as they watched their daughter sleep.

Regency AU

Miss Veronica always had a beautiful singing voice. But Mr. Seresin never thought her voice sounded sweeter than when she sang lullabies to their daughters. Her tone clear, sweet, soft, and full of so much love as she paced around their rooms with a babe in her arms. And he got to watch from his seat at the end of the bed as her pacing slowed, as her singing turned to a gentle hum. 

Then she stopped all together, a smile on her face as she looked down at the bundle in her arms. 

“Asleep?” he questioned, rising from his seat on the bed. 

“Yes, Papa,” she teased lightly. 

But he paid it no mind as he came up behind her, encircling her and their daughter in his arms. His girls. Two of them anyway. The eldest were already in bed. Lydia was nearly a year old, her hair dark as her mother’s. Of their three daughters, the youngest looked the most like Veronica. 

But it felt like only yesterday they could hold her in one arm. That they felt her kick from within her mother’s womb. Subconsciously, as he looked upon Lydia’s red-cheeked face, his hand drifted lower down Veronica’s frame. Until his palm rested flat against her stomach. 

Jacob felt his wife kiss the side of his neck as he swayed them all from side to side. Then she whispered affectionately, “Do you want another one, love?”

He hummed affirmatively, squeezed her tighter. 

“Alright, let’s have another one.”

i no longer have a taglist, please follow @anniesocsandlibrary and turn on notifications for updates

[devotion-between-the-wheat]

apparently I'm not immune to being weak to the idea of someone using a possessive my coupled with my name or petname.

[ratfingerspress]

7- Rescues

[accidentally posted this one twice,

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