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sprout-fics · 10 months

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for a little Thursday night Thots ♡♡

maybe some werewolf!simon? anything is ok dkshsk

but maybe some "I missed you" bites and breeding 🥰🥰

I love your writing frfr!! rorororo!!! 🐩🫂🩷

OOC Simon, Rough sex, Breeding kink, Werewolf Simon

Ghost is…different after missions gone wrong.

There’s a venom to him that is summoned only by failure, by blood and bones and lost comrades under a hail of gunfire. It burrows deep into his marrow, sets a rampant, feral shadow bursting from his veins, drunk on adrenaline. You know by now it comes from a place of fear, that as furious as he is he’s terrified.

Terrified at the thought of losing you.

A hand presses you down into the sheets, and you feel the tell-tale pinprick of claws at the tips of his fingers and he pins you there, forces you to arch and present to him. There’s a growl building in his throat as you fist the sheets, plant your face sideways and drag a shuddering breath in with each retreat of his cock inside you, only for the air to be punched from your lungs as he surges forward once more. He sets a punishing rhythm against you, one you submit to openly, one that drags you under from the realm of clarity and into something esoteric, arcane just like the blood of the ancient that pulses searing through his veins.

It’s severe enough to almost hurt, the pace and near brutality of his hips slapping against your ass, and you know that in the aftermath of broken bones and bloodied comrades the rage inside him bubbles up into something feral, untamed, his voice a wild snarl as you gasp out his name under his grasp.

“Simon!”

He bends over you, smothers you from behind, and you can feel the trace of coarse hair rising along a veiny arm as he begins to lose control of his shift. The girth inside you swells, and you choke on the sudden stretch, forcing you wider around on him, voice crying out in a wordless moan as he doesn’t pause, burying himself inside you with that same unflinching pace.

“Could have lost you.” He growls in your ear, and the deep tremor of his voice vibrates through you, forces your limbs pliant against him in submission like you’re rolling on your back begging for his mercy. The dire wolf in him seems pleased at the sound, because he hums low in his throat, reaches a hand down to graze against your hooded clit.

“S-Simon-” You choke, face burning, skin damp with sweat, lungs searing with hot air as the clawed tips of his pads circle against it, force pleasure to tighten in your core.

“You could have died.” He snarls, pressing with a sudden severity that makes you shout.

He’s right. You know he’s right. If he hadn’t shifted, hadn’t dwarfed you with his superhuman size, the towering massive stature of his wolf, that you’d be dead.

You can still remember it, can still feel the heat of his shift rolling across your form, as large as a tank, fur coal-dark, nearly iridescent, eyes bright yellow and gleaming as bright as his fangs bared in a deadly, imminent threat.

“You can’t keep making mistakes.” He tells you a little softer now, thumb stroking over your wet cheek- when had you started crying? “I can’t keep you out there if you won’t listen.”

You nod, and there’s an apology caught halfway in your throat he seems to hear, huffs with something vaguely displeased because it isn't enough. Isn’t enough to bring back the dead, isn’t enough to heal the wound in your arm, isn’t enough to assuage his frantic worry shielded by anger.

He pauses for a moment, and you hear a shift of fabric as he rucks up the mask to his nose, leaning down and seizing the flesh of your shoulder between his poking fangs hard enough to make you scramble forward, only for him to drag you back against him, flush with his hips.

“I should breed you.” He muses as he licks the wound clean- evidence of his claim on you. The words don’t register at first, not until he snaps his hips forward and alertness runs through you. “Should pump you full of my pups so you can stay here, safe.”

You can’t help it, you tighten around him reflexively, and you force air into your lungs long enough to look over your shoulder at him, eyes wet and pleading as you ask him in a voice that speaks of utter ruin:

“Please.”

#Oh boy #werewolf simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley #x reader #thursday night thots #minors dni

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buryustogether · 1 year

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the truth of the matter

lycan/werewolf!heisenberg x f!reader

read part one here part 2 part 3

summary: the beast takes you to extract your vengeance upon those who took advantage of you

warnings/tags: mentions of sexual assault, blood, gore, violence, murder, sexual tension, religious references

author’s note: yeah i know it’s not as good as the first one but the next part will have smut so

inspired by mary on a cross by ghost

‘ and the truth of the matter is

i’ll never let you go. ”

The beast’s coat smelled of him.

The sticky scent of pine, the greased stench of oil, the faint tinge of blood - they made up the unique, enchanting aroma that encased you in a secure embrace as you followed the man before you back to the village. Your teeth had stopped their chattering since he draped the fabric across your shoulders, yet your fingers still played a game of numbness, and your lips refused to work in the way they should upon trying to form words.

The cold seeped into your bones like lake water pulling you under, latching onto your very marrow and yanking you beneath the surface. Yet you resisted. You did not collapse to the ground just yet, despite the ache in your lungs, despite the throbbing of your wrists where the metal shackles had kept you tied to the offering pedestal.

Instead, you drove yourself onward, following the footprints of the towering man that trekked slightly ahead of you. Your rage was not yet frozen through. Your fury had thawed. Your hatred and need for revenge and vengeance overpowered any natural instinct your body sent screaming through your veins. Your friends, your parents, your neighbors… they had simply stood by and watched as you were violated. Dressed like a doll. Left to be ravished, then slaughtered.

And where were they now? Warm in their homes, eagerly awaiting what the beast would bring them in exchange for your blood.

“You don’t have to come with, you know.”

You lifted your head upon hearing the beast’s words. Heisenberg. Karl. He’d stopped just ahead of you, gazing over his broad shoulder at your small, hunched form. The corners of his eyes, darkened with his silvery irises, peeked out from the edges of his shades. You wondered where he’d gotten them; the only specs you’d ever seen were the ones made by the carpenter in town for those with poor eyesight. But those were not tinted, as his were.

“No,” you grunted out and quickened your pace to fall in step beside him. You were forced to crane your neck to look up at him. Your exhausted gaze was met with that unreadable expression of his, eyes hidden behind those panes and his mouth set in a thin line. “I want to. I…” You panted slightly, your mind racing. Then your rage resurfaced. “I need to,” you added and set your jaw. “They’re monsters, the whole fucking lot of them. I want to see them suffer.”

Your own words surprised you. Even when you were small and your playthings had been stolen by the other children, you had never been one to resort to violence. And yet when you thought of what they had done to you, without an inch of your consent… it made you want to drop to the frozen ground and howl and scream until your lungs gave out and you succumbed to the elements.

You watched as Heisenberg’s mouth quirked slightly at the corner. His beard twitched with the movement. Again, there came that fluttering and leaden sensation that dropped from your stomach to the space between your thighs.

“And here I thought I was the only beast in the woods,” he rumbled. He cast a thoughtful gaze down the path to the village, then took a step closer. Upon instinct, you inched backward. Yet you stilled yourself, afraid and enraptured all at once. “It’s still a mile or two to the town. Your choice, princess, but take it from me - a wounded animal never makes it far.”

You looked down at the hand he’d extended; gloved in leather; no claws; warm. A flash of memory panged into your head like an empty shotgun shell, freshly fired. You recalled the feeling of hands upon you, restraining your wrists, lifting your skirts, digging with sharp nails into your thighs and pushing them apart. Dirty fingers digging through your most intimate places. Would his hands on you feel like that?

Somehow, in some way, you knew they would not.

Silently, you looked up at him and nodded your head once. Then, with a grunt, he wrapped one arm around your back and the other beneath your legs, and hefted you into a bridal-style carry. At once, your heart skipped a number of beats. You watched the way his muscles flexed beneath his shirt, felt the murmuring of his heart as the side of your body pressed against his chest. Warmth radiated from his chest like a hearth, and suddenly you were wrapped entirely in that scent of his. It settled your racing nerves.

When you reached up to secure your arms around his neck, a few strands of his grey hair were caught between your clamped fingers. He jerked slightly, releasing a rumble from the pit of his chest.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured and released his tresses.

To your surprise, his lips curled upward to show off the whites of his teeth. Again, you imagined his canines growing into jagged blades. “Don’t say sorry for something I liked, sweetheart,” he said.

To avoid his gaze, and perhaps distract him from the sudden uptick in your pulse, you turned your head away.

“Nervous little villager, aren’t you?” he said. He carefully adjusted your weight against him, then began the trek toward the town once more. “Don’t worry, honey.” His voice was suddenly at the shell of your ear, his hot breath fanning against your temple. “Nothing’s going to hurt you like they did now that you’re mine.”

It seemed he was aware of the effect his words, his voice, simply his presence, had on you. He relished in the way your grip on him tightened slightly, in the way your breath hitched in your throat and how you squeezed your legs together. Yet all he did was smirk that agonizing smile to himself and tramp along through the snow.

You shut your eyes to the blinding whiteness of the snow in the late afternoon sun, instead tilting your forehead to rest against Heisenberg’s collarbone.

A man had never touched you like this before - well, before today. You’d craved this kind of touch in the past, but the boys in the village were always far too pushy or clingy or cocky to woo you into letting them come any closer than was proper. It wasn’t as if they hadn’t tried; as one of the only young eligible women in the village, it was known you would marry soon and begin to grace the town with the new generation. Every boy that was not already committed to another girl practically tried to jump you.

They invited you to attend service with them, asked you advice for gifts for their mothers and sisters, paid you for the stitching and embroidery you’d made a small hobby of. When you watched over the younger children in the school while the teachers stepped away, they would be sure to bring their little brothers and sisters, just to have an excuse to speak to you.

Some were sweet. Others were downright heinous. And yet your answer had always been no. You were content without a man; and while you, of course, had carnal urges no one could suppress, you did just fine on your own. Yet there were things you wondered about…

“Here.”

Heisenberg’s voice brings you tumbling from your thoughts. He’s stopped at the tree line surrounding your village, stood atop a small hill overlooking the church and the small rows of houses. Inside windows, fireplaces roared and children played on hearth side rugs. Stragglers hurried through the streets in order to get home before dark. Each and every one of them was wondering what great reward they would be bestowed for their sacrifice.

Your grip on the beast tightened yet again without your permission. A small bit of disappointment overpowered the fear for a moment when he let you down to stand on your own. Within your head, a tiny, devilish voice whispered, ‘Soon. He’ll hold you again soon. Make you feel safe again. Touch you like he did in the forest. Soon.’

“Listen, sweetheart,” he said as he began to pull his gloves tighter over his massive hands, “you might want to stay here while I go and pay your people a visit. This might get a little messy.” He cast you a glance. “Messier than even what you had in mind.”

“But -“

“Don’t you worry.” He swept close, taking your chin under his thumb in that way he does. His lips were inches from yours, a mere breath away. If you leaned forward just slightly, you’d be kissing him. “I’ll make them hurt for what they did to you.”

With that he was gone, sauntering down the hill toward the town. He walked with a sort of swagger that brought out his rather wily personality, and yet demanded respect all at the same time. You remembered how frightened you were when you first laid eyes upon him less than an hour ago - hell, how frightened you were now watching him leave - and imagined the terror that would fill the village when they realized just who he was.

You stood at the tree line, still huddled in the beast’s coat, watching. Waiting. So much time passed you thought nothing happened.

Then a scream, shrill and horrified and filled with pure, raw terror, ripped through the air. It rose the birds from their hidden perches in the trees, seemed to shake the ground beneath your feet. Slowly, more howls and shrieks followed the first. You saw the tiny figures of villagers scattering, scrambling for cover as some unseen force sent them all running.

A roar tore through the ravine. It was unlike anything you’d ever heard before; the trees seemed to shake upon their very roots and the clouds threatened to tumble down from the heavens. It was animalistic in its nature, wet and guttural.

The beast.

Suddenly you were filled with that same urge you’d felt when first released from the chains, when tramping through the snow - the urge for vengeance. For revenge. To take the justice that was rightfully yours after what they had done to you.

Despite the cold still controlling your bones, you found yourself stalking down the hill, your footprints following Heisenberg’s larger ones. The image of them fueled you with courage. Knowing he would be there, knowing he would protect you… it made you feel powerful beyond compare; something you had never experienced in your lifetime.

It seemed both an eternity and just moments later that you reached the village. You knew you would not like what you saw, and yet you continued on anyhow. You would not be some martyr, some victim, some nameless sacrifice to them.

You would become their worst regret.

Screams and howls of terror filled your ears, became your whole world, as you turned the corner of a building and laid eyes upon what was your home just this morning. A number of bodies - all men - lay scattered about the snow, each and every one torn near apart with gigantic claw marks. Some’s necks were barely still hanging onto their shoulders, shredded by rows of blade-like monster teeth. The white had turned red, the cobblestones flooded with blood. Women fled into the nearest buildings with their children, wailing for their lost loved ones. One girl prayed before a fallen body and rocked herself on her heels.

They were far too distraught to pay you any mind.

There came a new commotion - from the church - that drew your attention. Some large, ground-trembling force shook the small building in its very foundation. The bell in the tower overhead rang gently, sadly, helpless to do anything but sing its mournful song. You followed its melody. Your boots stamped along the front steps you were dragged up this morning, through the open doorway, and into the threshold.

The sight waiting for you inside was one that nearly brought that sick, sadistic smile back to your painted lips.

The beast had cornered the village priest - the one who had called your name and assaulted you in checking your virginity - in one of the front pews. The man was a bloody, torn-up mess. Blood cascaded from a wound in his shoulder and his nose looked to be broken in two different places. One eye was swollen shut. Scarlet dripped from his mouth and down his pant leg, to where one knee was bent the wrong direction. There was also a wet spot at his crotch.

And the beast - well. He had truly become the beast you’d heard in the legends growing up. He’d become the monster, the savior, the god. Teeth that had once looked just like yours had grown into razor-looking things, the tips and his lips and his beard stained with still-warm blood. Claws had stabbed through his gloves, near six inches each. His shades were gone, allowing that once star-like gaze to become a wicked yellow that burned like rum on fire. Teeth bared, chest heaving, expression torn into one of fitful rage, you feared momentarily that whatever curse or blessing he’d been bestowed upon at birth had overtaken him.

And yet still, in some way you could not understand, you felt safe.

“I beg of you, great one,” stammered the priest as he squeezed up into the pew, “have mercy upon our souls. We meant not to anger you.”

“Don’t speak to me about mercy, you fucking weasel.” Heisenberg reached out a clawed hand and easily lifted the man by his throat, then turned and slammed him back against the pulpit. The wood cracked and splintered beneath his weight. “How many times did that girl beg you for mercy? How many times did mercy cross your mind while you waited for your reward?”

The priest cowered against the pulpit, blood staining the carpet beneath him. He gurgled slightly before pulling his words together. “We wished to appease you!”

“With a fucking human being?!”

His eyes wide enough to drink from and his body bruised and bloody and broken, the priest’s gaze shifted from the creature before him and toward your figure in the doorway. He gasped and sputtered, his terror now tripled.

You relished in his fear. He knew what he had done was wrong, and now he was awaiting your judgement.

The beast followed his eyes with a snarl, jowls curled to show off his teeth, before his golden gaze landed upon you. He watched as you reached around the doorframe of the church and produced an old, warped axe; kept there for emergencies in case of a blizzard. Or an attack. His smile grew into something far more sinister and he stalked - practically on all fours - around the side of the pulpit so that he could peer over the top. What an ironic scene before you; the priest, upon his knees begging for reprive, and the beast you once worshiped as a god braced upon the pulpit.

What a sick, twisted sense of humor the world had.

The priest stammered your name as you slowly approached him, your weak arms struggling to carry the axe with you. “We - we didn’t know…! I told them it was unjust. I tried to stop them…! The council -“

“I once looked up to you,” you seethed, blue lips now moving upon their own accord. The blunt end of the axe dragged upon the floor as you walked, filling the air with the metallic sing of its contact on wood. The beast watched silently, curled around the pulpit, that gaze upon your body and those lips curled into an amused sneer. “I trusted you as a child. I trusted you today. What have I done to deserve this?”

“The council -“

“Coward!” you found yourself shrieking. Your throat tore itself apart with your scream. “You are the council. You are the village! You did this to me!”

“Our God demanded -“

“The truth of the matter is, Father…” With a grunt, you hefted the axe further into your arms and secured your frozen fingers around it. The man before you began to cry and beg. The beast waited. “There is no God.”

The axe swung, propelled by your strength and momentum and grief, and came to rest with a wet, sickening thud. Blood spattered upon your face, your skirts. The priest’s protests silenced. Scarlet slowly, ever so slowly, began to spread in an almost-pretty pool at your feet. When you let the handle go, it stayed put, the blade buried deep in your attacker’s head.

For a moment, there was nothing. Nothing but the still-warm body before you and the rising bile lurching in your throat. Gradually, your rage and need for vengeance melted to horror. You felt your hands drift to your mouth to cover it, your eyes wide and your legs suddenly crooked and unstable.

Before you fell, large, strong arms wrapped around your form and near scooped you up against a warm wall. You inhaled slightly, and you were met with that same scent that enveloped you while walking through the forest. The beast. Heisenberg. Karl.

“May his soul never find the peace he prayed for,” you heard him rumble. Again, those arms lifted your legs so that he was carrying you once more, your feet hanging limp as he turned and brought you to the doorway. Cold reached out for you with thin, spindly arms, carrying with its wind the scent of blood. It was on your face. Your clothes. Your hands.

A small noise must have escaped your throat, because the beast tilted your head slightly so that your face was pressed into his collarbone once more. “I know, honey. Just rest now.” Your hands closed into fists around his shirt, your nose pressed into the nape of his throat. “Sleep, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” And then, right beside your ear as you found yourself drifting away into the darkness behind your eyelids, “No one will fuck with you now that you belong to me.”

tags: @robzombzie @dingusdingusio @syd-vixious @inesalexandra1995 @sincerely-gi @cowsrcool123 @makenten @call-me-magpie @lawlesshedgehog @harley777q @mixx-ie @all-mights-wife @uwu-i-purple-you @ifindyourlipssokisssable @stitchmiku @demodemonio

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tired-biscuit · 5 months

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werewolf sex is great, but the thing that really gets me going with said monsters is when they’re kind of trying to appear human even if they’re not and it shows in the way they eat?

when they’re maybe mid-stage of changing or instinct is taking over and they’re just eating so much more than they usually would and they’re constantly starving and are devouring everything you put on their plate; back slightly hunched over the table, practically groaning with every bite. it gets to a point that even their fingers are greasy because they can’t help but eat with their hands and their lips have a sheen to them as well.

their teeth are bigger than they are normally are, especially at the canines, and they’re practically tearing the meat off the bone with them; sinking them into it until they can taste the marrow on their tongue.

and then when they drink, they take these large gulps that never seem to quench their thirst at all. their throat bobs and a droplet dribbles down the corner of their mouth and slides down their chin and neck, right over the place where a vein is bulging so prominently in the exact same rhythm of their too quick pulse.

they’re just so wild and insatiable and eating exposes that side of them. it’s kind of gross but hot at the same time, and you can’t help but stare, terrified and equally as transfixed, because you’re not completely sure if them treating you the same way as they do their food is necessarily a bad thing.

#monsterfucking #werewolves #very self indulgent

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nevadas-night-time-novelist · 3 months

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I really loved the werewolf! sanford you wrote! I was wondering if you could do a follow up where someone on the team accidentally turns the reader? (maybe Hank or Sanford himself)

It's another werewolf! All dressed up in sheep's wool, and changing when the moons full. Can you show me the way?

Werewolf!Sanford x Demigirl!Reader P2

CW: Reader gets hurt, whole team gets hurt, descriptions of gore, vomit and body horror.

[Part 1] - will link later lol

Deimos had the zoomies, sprinting back and forth from your bedroom to the front door, his toes tip tapping with impatience and excitement. It'd been a couple months since you started going on hunts with the boys, always on Sanford's broad back, the night air fresh in your lungs, hair blown by the wind.

The boys felt safe enough to transform inside the base with you around, seeing as you could open the door to let them out. "I'm coming, hold your horses Dei." You chuckled as he ran up again, whining softly with puppy eyes, ears drawn back.

Something softly headbutted your back, and you turned to see Doc, who strolled passed and sat by the door. Hurry up. He was patient, yes, but even he was starting to get bored of waiting.

There was a scuffling noise in the kitchen, and you wandered over to see Hank with their head inside the bin, rummaging around for some leftovers. He turned to look at you, a chicken leg bone in his mouth. Yesterday's scraps, tonight's lunch.

Sanford padded out of your room, yawning widely, chuffing softly as he nuzzled his cold nose into your hand. "You ready Fordie?" He licked your palm, and you headed to the door, both wolves trailing behind.

Dei yipped in excitement, his feet tapping away still. He was the quickest of the pack, always sprinting around while outside, a supercharged battery burning off its excess energy.

Opening the door, the four wolves exited first, Deimos running off ahead, Doc walking behind, clearly intent on waiting until the door was secure as usual. Hank was still gnawing away at their treat, enjoying the marrow seeping out at they cracked and splintered the old bone. Sanford took a few paces outside, before laying down so you could climb on his back.

You pet Doc's head, setting the lock on the door before hopping into Sanford's back. "Alright furry boys, let's ride!"

Hank took off after Deimos, being easily swallowed by the night as the full moon was obscured by heavy clouds. Doc and Sanford followed, keeping pace with each other. It was routine, Deimos and Hank would run off up front, San and Doc taking up the rear, though rarely did they stray too far from each other.

The strength of a wolf is his pack, and the strength of a pack is the wolf. You could feel Sanford's heart beating against your thigh, his chest heaving as he ran along, his heavy paws thudding along, coughing up earth with his claws.

Up ahead, Deimos and Hank were atop a cliff, the smaller wolf looking skyward, awaiting for the very brief window when the moon would be visible. The three of you caught up, and you got off Sanford's back, the wolves grouping together to call a hunt.

A slither of silver shone in the sky, and Doc threw back his head, letting out a mournful howl, which was joined in a chorus by the rest. Butterflies filled your stomach, and you couldn't resist, howling with them too. And the moon vanished, hiding herself away for this night.

Hank threw you a questioning look, before marching down the cliff side, uninterested in you. Doc approached, nudging you with his head before turning to follow Hank. Deimos was wagging his tail, giving a soft awoo and giving a playful bow. Like Doc, he rubbed against you before waiting at the cliff.

San came up last, rubbing his face affectionately against you, rubbing his scent all over you. He'd asked you to be his partner recently, and you agreed excitedly. He'd given you a whole new happier life, of course you'd want to share it with him.

He bowed again, letting you climb atop, getting a good grip of his neck fur as you leaned into him, the cliff was pretty steep, staying low was the best way to keep safe and on top of your ride.

Together Dei and San raced, kicking up rocks in their wake, excitement flooding your veins. You weren't super into the killing, but the pack activities really helped bond you with the boys, they offered you more physical affection. Deimos was always trying to snuggle with you and Sanford, Doc would touch your hair softly as he passed by, Hank would... sometimes offer you a thumbs up.

Despite not being a wolf, you fit perfectly into the pack, as a pack mate, and as Sanford's girlfriend. Once again you hopped off his back, ahead of you stood a band of vampires. Stepping back, you tightly gripped the silver crucifix Doc had given you, the bottom of it had been sharpened like a knife, a powerful weapon for banishing supernatural beasts of all shapes and sizes.

"Fuck 'em up boys." At your command, the wolves lunged forward, the turf war underway. The wolves, all being skilled fighters in normal life, had the upper hand, and with their blood being corrosive to vampire's innards, it was sure to be a massacre.

Coloured blood painted the streets, neon leaking on every surface. Even the werewolves' badass bitch managed to take down one or two, Doc's gift proving to be incredibly useful.

Blood splashed into Hank's eyes, they were temporaily blinded, and with no arms to wipe the blood away, they latched onto the nearest thing that wasn't a wolf and smelled of vampires.

You screamed as his teeth dug in, and instantly he let go, realising his mistake. Deimos ripped the intestines of the last vamp standing, while Doc spun on his paws, noticing you crumple to the ground, clinging to your mauled arm.

"Hank you bastard!" Sanford snarled, lunging at him, the two sending fur and blood flying as they fought, San in pure rage, and Hank in self defence.

Doc raced over, Deimos following behind, both scared. "What happened?" Dei looked to Doc, eyes stricken with terror. "Vampire?"

"It was Hank. Sanford and I saw it." Doc nuzzled his face against you, licking your wound, but the pain didn't subside as it had with Sanford all those months back, it felt like acid was pouring into your skin.

"IT BURNS!" You dropped your weapon, Doc smelled burnt flesh and he nudged your hand, the silver having left a scald. The pain was overwhelming, you'd even missed out on the fact you could understand the wolves words now.

"SANFORD! STOP! She's going to turn!" Doc barked out, and a bloodied up Sanford tossed Hank aside before laying next to you, Hank had gotten a good few bites and scratches into his already wounded body.

"You.. I'm sorry, I didn't protect you princess." His golden eyes filled with hurt and pain, pain of being unable to protect his partner, his woman.

Agony filled your body, bones creaking and starting to reshape, nails splitting into claws, blood and teeth flooded out your mouth, old human ones forced out as new wolf ones formed in, round, sharp, capable of splitting flesh from bone.

There were no words to describe the hell your fragile body was going through, spine cracking and extending, legs bending unnaturally to take on new form. Blood, snot and tears flooded from your face, and it tore Sanford up, because there was nothing any of them could do to ease the suffering.

"They're going to be okay, right?" Deimos sounded panicked.

"Of course they are. She's always had a wolf's strength. Only now they've got the body to go along with the spirit." Doc put his tail around Dei's back, and Dei leaned into his father figure, whining softly.

Your body felt like it was on fire, a mixture of blood and puke rolled out of your mouth, your claws scraping up the concrete road. Bright wolf eyes opened, scanning the rest of her pack, seeing them in a whole new perspective.

"I know it hurts." Sanford placed his muzzle over yours, body twitching and settling into its new self. "The first few always do. But your body will get used to it. And they will never be as painful as the first one, that's when the worst changes happen. We've all been through it princess."

You rested your face into San's thick neck fur, his once off putting dog smell now appealing. "D-does.. t-this me--mean I get to bite the n-next one who joins u-us?" The joke fell flat, but Sanford licked your muzzle.

Hank took a step forward, and Sanford snarled at him, ready to attack if he advanced again. "I.. I'm sorry. It was an accident. Blood in my eyes. Instinct to bite."

"You are banished from the pack tonight. You will spend the night alone, and as many moons as it takes for her to forgive you." Doc commanded, his teeth bared. "Is that clear?"

"No." You eyed Doc, who's ears went backwards.

"I'm sorry?"

"Hank will not be punished like that. While I don't forgive them for what they've done to me, I will not deprive them of one of the only comforts they know." Your grey fur bristled.

"Are you sure?" Sanford mumbled lowly, never taking his eyes off Hank.

"Yes. You taught me the way of the wolf, and depriving them of that is cruel. But make no mistake, you are not to touch me, in any shape or form, my body is not yours to lay a claw or fang on again. You will have to do a lot to earn forgiveness, but if you try, perhaps you will."

Taking the lead, you turned and began heading towards home, each step painful as bones and muscles had to adjust to their new positions and lengths, black tipped tail hanging limp. Sanford followed, Dei behind him, Doc next, and Hank bringing up the rear.

"You are lucky," Doc growled. "that they are so kind. Even now, she has pared you from isolation, after what you've done."

"I know." Hank's tail was slightly between their legs.

Doc stopped in his tracks, letting the three of you get a lead, just enough to be out of earshot. "Besides, you owe Sanford an apology too."

"How so?"

"He wanted to change them himself." Doc gave a wolfy chuckle before plodding onwards, leaving Hank to ponder a moment. They would let their packmates nurse each others wounds, allowing their own to scab over without help, a self inflected punishment.

They trudged along, a space next to Doc was calling his name in the den bed. A space that was furthest from Sanford and his mate.

#hank #deimos #sanford #2bdamned #madcom #madness combat #madcom x reader #madness combat x reader #madness combat reader insert #sanford x reader #cw gore #x gon deliver to ya #queue'd

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lucky-bishop · 4 months

Text

✨ Fic Writing Review 2023 ✨

Thank you for the tags @rosieposiepuddingnpie and @thotpuppy! I still had a few works in progress that I knew (or at least desperately hoped, lol) would be posted in 2023, but now I can safely say I'm done posting for the year (though I have things raring to go for early 2024) and wanted to share my year in review!

Words and Fics

230,669 words posted across 32 fics

One fandom represented: y'all already KNOW it's Teen Wolf!

Earliest Drop: Doctor's Orders (Steter, Explicit, 2,529 words) on 1/5/2023

Most Recent Drop: Creature of the Night (Stackson, Mature, 7,529 words) on 12/29/2023

Longest Fic: Pretty Good Bad Idea (Steter, Explicit, 28,502 words)

Shortest Fic: Werewolf Healing (Teen+, 1,090 words)

Overall, this makes me super happy! My writing goal for 2023 was 200k words, and I made it with over 30k to spare! I also met my goal of posting at least once per month (although in the summer it was mostly just the biweekly updates for Pretty Good Bad Idea).

Top Fics by Kudos

The Empty-Nester Alpha (Steter, Explicit, 16,306 words)

Pretty Good Bad Idea (Steter, Explicit, 28,502 words)

Lips are for Biting (Stetopher, Explicit, 2,436 words)

Down to the Marrow (Steter, Explicit, 23,206 words)

A Long History (Steter, Explicit, 11,528 words)

Hm. I wonder what my most popular pairing and rating are 😂

My fandom fic events in 2023

The Empty-Nester Alpha (Steter, Explicit, 16,306 words) for the 2023 Steter Valentine's Exchange

Burnin' Up for You, Baby (Starrish, Teen+, 5,765 words) for the Stiles Rair Pair Valentine's Day Event

Promises, Promises (Mature, 2,789 words) | The Witch in the Woods (Explicit, 7,044 words) | What Spring Will Bring (Mature, 1,701 words) | Breaking Bonds (Teen+, 4,354 words) | Born to Run (Mature, 3,419 words) | Touch Me, Fix Me (Explicit, 5,497 words) for Deter Week 2023 (which I will be running for 2024! Details coming soon!)

I'm Sorry (like a pipe through the gut) (Petopher, Teen+, 1,675 words) for the May 2023 Petopher Event

A Ways to Go (Stackson, Mature, 10,537 words) for the Stackson Reverse Bang

Welcome Home (Stetopher, Teen+, 1,113 words) | Good Morning (Stargent, Explicit, 1,489 words) | The Best Gift (Starrish, Teen+, 1,999 words) for the Stiles Shipping Central Ficlet Exchange

Down to the Marrow (Steter, Explicit, 23,206 words) | sweeter than honey (Steter, Teen+, 1,909 words) for the 2023 Steter Bang

As We Know It (Stetopher, Mature, 17,063 words) for Fandom Trumps Hate

A Creature of Habit (Steter, Mature, 20,918 words) for Steter Secret Santa 2023

Hey Batter, Batter, Swing! (Steterson, Explicit, 5,209 words) | Creature of the Night (Stackson, Mature, 7,595 words) for the Teen Wolf Holiday Fest

Last year I said I wasn't going to sign up for so many events this year. As you can see, I lost control of my life.

Upcoming Events and Projects for 2024

Oh man! A ton of events, again, lol. I will probably sign up for at least one Valentine's Day event, like I mentioned above I'll be running @deterweek 2024, I'll be down for the Steter Bang and Steter Secret Santa again, and hopefully several months of the Stiles Shipping Central Exchange.

As for projects, also a ton. I can never just be working on one thing at once, lol. I currently have eight requests in my queue, one of which is going to be ready by early January. I have thirty-nine existing idea docs/WIPs for Teen Wolf (including that one request). Which is fucking insane of me. Actually. But for a short list of things that should be (or hopefully will be) coming in early 2024 are:

Possessive Peter Steterek

Stiles gets bit by a grindr hookup (Steter)

Lorde-inspired Stargent painting fic

Alpha form Peter/Stiles monsterfucking in the woods

Outside of Teen Wolf I have a Stranger Things and a few WWDITS idea docs/WIPs that I'd love to work on, but I just don't know if it'll happen. We'll see! Cheers to 2024! That's a wrap! Phew, thank you if you read even half of this, let alone all of it.

Rules & Tags below the cut!

Rules: Feel free to show whatever stats you have. Only want to show Ao3 stats? Rock on. Want to include some quantitative info instead of stats? Please do this. Want to change how yours is presented? Absolutely do that. Would rather eat glass than do this? Please don’t eat glass but don’t feel like you have to do this either.

Tags: Anyone who sees this and hasn't done it and would like to! I know I am very late to the game, haha, but I love seeing stuff like this.

#my writing #2023 #teen wolf #year in review #fandom events

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streaminn · 9 months

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You get it! She wants to hate, she wants to hate so much it threatens to make her break her teeth from grinding them and the muscles in her shoulders rip and bleed from how tense they are, but she can't.

She can't look into black-with-gold-specs eyes and hate. It'd be like asking a fish to grow wings and fly, or a mere mortal to reach the skies with single jump. It won't happen. She doesn't have the right stuff to hate; she just wasn't built for it.

She can't quite love, I don't think. She can care, she cares so deeply, but she cannot love. Love is a deep trust, sown into the marrow of your bones and filling the gaps of your joints.

She cannot love, cannot trust Wednesday, but god, can she care. She can care and care and care until she can't anymore, and then she cares more, because she's always been too giving. Yoko calls her the giving tree, and tells her one day she'll be little more than a stump if she doesn't watch herself.

Maybe she's meant to be yearning forever. Maybe that's just her nature.

-Writer Anon.

Personally I think love is caring, love is looking at someone and hoping they eat well for their dinner, that they get the future they've always wanted and if possible, be there with them when it happens

But enid? She's hurt, she's in pain and the thought of Wednesday simply living without her is horrible. It's pathetic, one semester was all it took to have Enid stuck in this constant wishing and wanting for a person that may not at all reciprocate

It's sad but wolves mate for life and guess what Enid is? A werewolf

She loves Wednesday, she wishes her well and she hopes that her future is bright. Enid just wishes that when wednesday eats her dish, it's not at her table.

When Wednesday lives her life, Enid wishes she won't hear a damn thing about it but just like gravity, Enid will forever be drawn to Wednesday whether she likes it or not

#It's giving Enid deep in her anger stage #Writer anon #Enid Sinclair #Reference #Bodyguard Enid au

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thatdogmagic · 2 years

Note

What are your feelings about transgender werewolves?

Me, personally, as a creator? I'd say werewolves transcend gender as a matter of course.

That sounds like silly internet hyperbole, but it's true. As much as some lazy hacks forced the werewolf into some asinine color-by-numbers cis-male power fantasy, complete with dominance wankery, the key-word there is forced.

It is far more creatively bankrupt to me to force a legendary creature into the framework of toxic masculinity, forever and always. And I reject wholly that a werewolf's anger and hunger has to be encoded as masculine. Or as anything.

The werewolf is a force of nature, of change, and is eternally an outsider among those they may have thought of as peers (maybe even among their own kind). They are in presentation and in so many other ways, queer and incredibly gender-malleable in just about any direction, straight down the marrow.

That being said, I hope to never see another chest-pounding cis male dominance jockey ever again.

#bludasks #werewolf #werewolves

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oppaihun · 3 months

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hi hello my beloved,, what if i asked you some more murder ghouls? anyone you want but werewolf style? if ure up to it! smooch

Murder Ghoulettes now bcs I’m still thinking about that specific gif set

CW below the cut: Murder Ghouls, brief descriptions of gore, blood, toying with your prey, you know just girly pop things.

Cirrus is peak apex predator shaped to me, the closest amongst my headcanons for ghouls to be werewolf like other than Alpha and a couple of the guys.

She’s quick, cunning, and enjoys the hunt more than the kill most of the time. It’s always too easy, especially when she shares with Cumulus.

They’ll swap from time to time, but Cumulus will lead off this hunt by luring their kill in with sweet words and charming giggles. Oh isn’t it so romantic. Or it’s at least what she’s promising some wayward sibling of sin who’s a little too into the sin of lust for their own good. But I mean, who could resist her right?

She’ll lead him deep into the forest, only to use her element in a way that effectively makes her disappear to him in a thick valley fog. A Silent Hill sort of thick fog. And maybe realization hits a little too late for our poor human subject, because the game is on now that they’re lost and turned around in the trees, with two Ghoulettes giggling as they run past to get everything riled up.

Cirrus runs one direction, Cumulus, the other. A taunt to see what the human will do. But once they start to run and find their way back towards the ministry, it’s really on. Predator drive kicks in and Cirrus is on them. And Hells Bellow, it sounds like a fucking Clydesdale running no more than ten meters away, a heavy footed run accompanied but snarls and nearly manic laughter.

Cumulus will switch off and make a run right in front of the poor human, sending them calling backwards and running the other way. And it’s the perfect opportunity for Cirrus to lie in wait. It’s so typical at this point, it’s easy to predict, all the better for our two predators. She’ll grab him in her claws, and make a move for his throat. At this point she’s starving and done playing. She wants the reward.

The girls will toss him back and forth until the screams have stopped and the colors drained away, like two cats with a mouse. Cirrus prefers to rip into the abdomen, feasting there while Cumulus is more interested in meat and bone marrow. The hearts always a little treat they’ll share together at the end.

And you know, maybe at the end when the carnage is mostly picked away, they’ll look at each other with a dumb sleepy grin. See each other worked up and covered in blood, that does something. And before they strut back to the den they’ll get a little handsy, giggling and making out and smearing blood all over each other’s bodies. And Cirrus is strong but she’s so weak over the idea of getting her bloody hands all over Lus’ tits and kneading the flesh under her hands.

And then yeah, they probably run back to the den to continue because they’ve had their fun in the woods and now they’re going to fuck real nasty in the shower.

#ghost bc #shitghosting #ghoul headcanons #cumulus ghoulette #cirrus ghoulette #murder ghouls

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yourwolfmuzzle · 1 year

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You know, im not going to be this kinda guy who “oh i know everything and i know how to do better” when it comes to the White Fangs and faunus stuff that going on in this series. I dont think i know how to fix this or rewrite this...race parallel story and i will not sit there and lie to people or most importantly to myself that i know better in this topic. And frankly, MK openly already admit that they themselves dont think that they doing great job (but im not sure that say shit like “oh we was young and we both just white dudes” will...make this situation better? Like...im white af and pretty far away from knowing american history or black culture history, but if i really want to write parallel between my fantasy race and some real situations and\or movements from real life - i first will at least spend more that hour to think about this and read history about this?).

Why i write this post? Seeing those post about “Yang buying the best tuna for Blake :)”, how fans treat sometime this topic (faunus specifically) or how this everything was written in the show - started with how Yang trying to get Blake attention in vol2, treating her like literally a cat and portrait this as a joke moment, stuff from chibi R/WBY, “oh she dont like dogs”, Marrow WHOLE character (love him, but he just “dog joke”) or how “faunus dont like when people call them just animals” transform into “blake, you can be human or just a cat”, jokes like “ask a cat to another cat” or how one of the compliments from Yang was “you have a cute cat ear” (OFFTOPIC - I still cannot believe that this was one of the things in confession scene...you telling me that those two never talk about what they like in each other and so basic stuff like “cute ears” even when they was a friends? Fucking really? Not even as a non romantic thing? If yes then HOW DE FUCK THEY EVEN DATING NOW???) - i wish there was never parallels with black history.

This is not i dont want to see stories like this or parallels like this. I love sometime read rewrites about this topics. I just wish its never was a thing in the show because from what i can see a lot of fans of this show have more interest in “cute animals interactions” that on analysing how bad this whole faunus and White Fang story was written. Not even that but the writers and directors not even have that much interest in this outside of “make one group look evil and do evil stuff”. From what i can see, most of the time people who have interest in this or try to work with this topic is people who think that “this topic was written without any nuance/accidentally (or not) extremely racist and i want to do rewrite about this” or to just make this into “omg Yang can be ally for Blake and she can support her and” and this all just transform into this one scene, when Weiss just drop some racist guy into trashcan. Just to make people who is not faunus look good in this picture and save sad small Blake(9((( (we all collectively will forget that she was in White Fang since childhood and was pretty good enough to fight with people like this but oh boi now she need help from people to deal with this).

And listen, i get it. A lot of people love cute animals or characters with animals traits. Im a cats owner and love dogs a lot, even if i cant have one. I have a characters with animal traits myself and im werewolf fan. People transforming into animals and who can have some kinda activity with all this? Oh hell yeah, give me more. We love cute cat girls and bois and everyone inbetween. This fandom is also LOVE stuff like this and the writers are no different either

But...its cant just work like this, when literally From Shadow, song that was in trailers, that we know before we even got first chapter of this series, tell us stuff like this:

Treated like a worthless animal, Stripped of all rights, Just a lesser being, Crushed by cruel, ruthless Human rule

I cant just sit there and be like “omg cute Blake omg she a cat girl uwu” when before volume 9 calling someone just by they animal traits was equals to just dropping racial slur. Imagine volume 1-2 and someone call Blake literally a cat? She would just “destroy” this person on the spot and most likely this person deserved it.

And you cant just...drop this idea and be like “its never was about racial discrimination.” You cant just sit on two chairs at the same time and tell us that Blake soo easy about people calling her just a cat or her calling herself just a cat person with just cat ears when for 8 volumes its was about “dont treat us like we just animals”. You cant. You ether can continue this race parallel further, but having studied this topic better even with all the mistakes that was already done or try somehow find the ways to rewrite what you already have done at least for a little bit, or just...at least dont fucking touch this whole “ahah cute ears and tails” stuff and pretend that there are no problems.

#rwde

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callmearcturus · 2 years

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Spooky Jake Autumn is coming

So I have decided to make a list of fics I think will help people get into the Mood of the season. I'm already seeing some exciting stuff, and I am here to hype the shit out of this.

THESE ARE IN NO ORDER, just the order I remember them in!

Bacchanalian Hangovers, by @thedoublepp

Jake English, dizzy and downtrodden, follows a god into the wildwood.

My dear pal Paya wrote this one and its Jake getting caught up with a god of gold and revelry, and is drenched in the same vibes of Paya's art. Excellent.

the "adoring, adorned" series, by someone who now prefers to be anonymous

this is an OLD CLASSIC that is heavy with dark, treacle-sweet emotions and physicality. it's not explicitly spooky, but to me i9t's a very good touchstone for just what you can do with bodies and deified emotions.

the weary and the wild, by @mimsiical

"I wanted the ideal animal to hunt," explained the general. "So I said, 'What are the attributes of an ideal quarry?' And the answer was, of course, 'It must have courage, cunning, and, above all, it must be able to reason."' "But no animal can reason," objected Rainsford. "My dear fellow," said the general, "there is one that can." OR: Dirk hides. Jake seeks.

The one in which Jake and Dirk do a roleplay scene in which Jake hunts Dirk across the island. The effect of the close POV use in this story is EXTREMELY effective, and gave me secondhand adrenaline rush.

everybody on your knees and testify, by MULTIPLE PEOPLE (including me, full disclosure)

[Divinity Studies: XXX Core] (69 units across multiple courses) The course sequence examines the impact and influence of dormant sex deities on modern day college life, with emphasis on the rise and growth of divine worship. It will also cover individual arousal responses as well as the increase in group orgiastic interactions. Assignments include group projects, workshops, and individual study. [Restricted to students with no gag reflexes.]

The one where Jake is the god of sex and Dirk accidentally wakes him up due to being that good at giving head. A lot of weird magic stuff and everyone having a blast adding in more kinks. Lighthearted and weird.

green eyes, spread thighs, by saccharomyces_cerevisibae

Dirk goes home with a hot demon and things get… interesting pretty fast.

lmao i love this one. it's so much fun. Jake is a demon with some cool-ass hypno eyes and he's going to get some use out of the pretty thing he picked up at the bar.

cambion, by treeprince

It's your final year of college. Again. But at least this time you're doing something you love. It's also killing you slowly and eating all your time. You need to unwind. Good thing your friends look out for you. Or, "suck one (1) dick, gain a boyfriend slash roommate that wastes your money on overpriced exotic food ingredients and your bandwidth on Netflix while you're away."

another fun one and one I have on good authority will be finished for Spooky Jake Autumn /fingers crossed. Jake as an incubus is always a ton of fun.

Take a Gulp and Take A Breath, by Stormbourne

Dirk Strider, bodyguard of the heiress to the marine empire, desperately needs help from a sea witch.

I LOVE THE ATMOSPHERE OF THIS ONE. It's a good lengthy one shot but I woulda read 70k of this AU.

Not A Hunter's Moon, shamepillow

“The full moon is tomorrow,” you tell him. His eyes widen slightly, and then watch you with a new kind of intensity. “A strong moon, so I gather. That is when I will kill you.” (Dirk finds a werewolf dying in the snow, and like the arrogant Hunter he is, he takes him back to his hideout and nurses him back to health, intent on killing him as the next full moon rises. But this moon is different. It's not a moon for hunting, as Dirk soon finds out.)

LISTEN TO ME. I do not like werewolves. And even I enjoyed this one. The Bloodborne vibes are strong and v good.

and of course, this list would be incomplete without:

BONES OF BLACK MARROW, by oxfordroulette

Dirk summons a demon for the exclusive purpose of 'cathartic boning.' He gets what he wants.

The one. The only. I feel like a lot of us quietly were trying to figure out how to do Spooky Jake, and then BOBM showed up and turned the world upside down. This is THE fic. Erotic horror, poetry, ergodic nonsense, and through all the interface plays and coding tricks, some honest to fucking god true and deep pathos like an arrow through the heart. If you somehow don't know BOBM, rectify that. Also consider reading it for Halloween, tbh.

(also I was told I should put my own pump your veins with gushing gold on this list but one, that seems gauche, and two, I think we float before the sea at dusk is MUCH more spooky. do with that as you will.)

#spooky jake autumn #i think bc this post has in line links it won't show up in main tags #weh #jake english #dirkjake #whomstve

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sprout-fics · 1 year

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because @zwienzixes gave me 🌟inspo🌟 here is another teaser for you all of the Werewolf König Fic:

Monstrous.

Hunched forward, spine curved over itself and he leans, too long arms dangling at his front. The claws at his hands scrape against his legs. There's blood that drips from the tips into the forest soil, red, scarlet, the same color as the fear that stabs inside you. Too bright, too hot, scorching the inside of your throat in a scream you can't let loose. It beats against the cage of your chest frantically, and there's a distant voice at the back of your mind that screams run. RUN!!

Yet you can't. Your legs are useless under you, form shaking, cloak spilling under you in a pool of crimson. The silver blade given to you by Price hangs heavy at your side, but you can't reach for it, frozen in terror as dread clogs your throat, suffocates you slowly.

Dark hair, coarse and auburn bristles as the beast lifts his head. In the halo of moonlight you see it, his glinting fangs, the yellow of his eyes that reflect the scant light of stars. He growls as he sniffs the air, pausing, the then turning towards you. In the dewy dimness revealed as inky clouds move across the sky, his form is backlit as he towers over you, feeling as if he's taller than the trees themselves. You watch him as he turns, feel the growl in his throat echo down into your marrow, the things that will be left when he's swallowed you whole and spit out the remains. You don't move as the moon hangs heavy behind him, makes his eyes glint brighter as they narrow in on your smaller, shaking form.

He could swallow the moon.

#fic: rotes madchen

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therealmintedmango · 2 years

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Cerberus - Part Two and a Half

Genre: Werewolf/ Shifter AU; Medieval AU; Strangers-To-Lovers AU; Heavy Angst; Soulmate AU; Eventual romance/ smut

Rating: NC 18+, Explicit

Words: 900+ (Just kind of a teaser to get me back into writing this story!)

Pairings: (Eventually) ot7 BTS x Human Female Reader

Warnings: Dark themes; Possible Yandere Vibes in the future; Death; Gore; Murder/ Killing; Implied Incest (nothing happens - I promise); Mentions of being naked/ being seen naked; I think that’s it.

Tag List: (Please notify me if you wish to be added/ no longer want to be apart of the tag list!) @openup-yourmind , @deeepvibes, @heoniebaby, @xxsunny-side-upxx

Cerberus Playlist (Let me know if you have a good song to add to the playlist and I’ll chuck it in there!

————————

A shot from the nose of a gun rings out in the middle of the wood. The sound is jarring, spooking the horses they ride upon— but, only for a moment. Mid-mornings are for the prince’s to have a moment to themselves, to talk and convene, like their own personal meeting that takes place every day. Just the seven brothers, safe for the horses, the hunting dogs that yelp and yip with glee, and some trusted staff who have loyal tendencies in their sinew and marrow. Small woodland creatures scatter as the pheasants the group were tracking are flushed from their hiding spaces in the thicket.

For they all weren’t blessed to have been birthed under the warm and pregnant harvest full moon like they were.

“Excellent shot, Hoseok.” Taehyung smiles his boxy grin at his elder brother as he directs his horse to be placed next to his.

A trail of hot breath exited the mouth of the third-eldest, whipping and whispering away into the afternoon air. The loudest, most outgoing brother always seems to become lethally quiet when he is focused; eyes trained and nerves unwavering. He would surely be Bangtan’s tactical genius or a general one of these days. Hoseok reloads and fires at the bird with ease, directing one of their staff to go retrieve his fresh slain kill. His wolffish grin is not lost, his brothers echoing his silent, devious smirk as they clap their leather gloves together.

“I feel bad leaving her back at home by herself.” Jungkook turns his head back to the direction of their foreboding estate, his smile faltering.

“Come now, she’s not a child.” Yoongi scoffs, smoothing the hairs on his horse's neck. “She is free to do as she pleases. I see no band on her finger.”

“I know.” Jungkook retorts with a low growl. “Do we think she was being hunted?”

“Who would want to hurt an angel that divine?” Taehyung rumbles, his timbre darkening with the thought.

“She’s awfully frightened.” Jimin says.

“Speak for yourself.” Yoongi grumbled under his breath, but they all heard his remark regardless.

“She might be a liability, hyung.” Namjoon sighs, looking out at the bright horizon of the wood, the sun hanging very high in the pale blue sky. “What if it’s a trap and she is a witch or a demon or worse sent from our friends beyond this world?”

“She is human.” Hoseok sneers, lip curling. “She is human. You can smell the earth and sweat on her flesh.” His eyes flashed a danger deep amber as he shot the last of the flock of game bird.

“Let’s not waste anymore time.” Seokjin asks over the din of the dogs barking in delight and his brothers bickering atop their steads. He raised his brows and they all quieted down at once. “Though she seems harmless and is quite stunning, we have to approach this diplomatically.” The brothers all nod. This was the way it worked here. “I will go down the line in our regular fashion and I want you to tell me if she stays or goes.”

Seokjin’s amber gaze drifted to the second born brother. “Yoongi?”

“Stay.” Yoongi said, almost a little too quickly.

“Hose-“

“Stay.” Hoseok cut him off, nostrils flaring in annoyance. “She is staying.”

Seokjin sighs with a soft smile, directing his question next to the next in the line up. “Namjoon?”

Namjoon pauses, looking down at his leather saddle, weighing his decision heavily. “Goes.”

“Stay.” Jimin did not wait to be called on, his soft smile was endearing, his pale cheeks flushed. From the cold or from the girl, Seokjin could not tell.

“Me too.” Taehyung speaks up, eyes narrowing at his older brother. “Stay.”

“She has to stay, hyung.” Jungkook looks between Namjoon and Seokjin. “She belongs here. With us.”

“My vote is she stays.” Seokjin nods, his rich orbs finding his very intelligent middle brother who looks away. “However, any witchcraft or mysterious activity with her and she is out. She is to be treated with the highest respect like we would a royal guest. I do not want you lot courting her; do not disrespect her or our name in the process of her staying with us. We have to figure out who she is…and why was she in the wood and from our neighbors from the south, no less…” He exhales a breath looking at each of his brothers faces. Their attention was focused solely on him as he says, “Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal.” Yoongi smirks, his white hair reflecting the bright sun as they make their way back through the forest, their birds and dogs in tow. The meeting was drawing to a close on this fine afternoon.

“Let’s make sure she is comfortable during her stay in Bangtan.” Seokjin smiles, some malice and mirth behind his lush lips and soft tone, his pointed canines glimmering like freshly washed china.

One of their hound dogs lets out a wail of a hound and most of the brothers can help but laugh.

———-

Author’s Notes: I hope y’all listen to the playlist when reading! It’s still a work in progress, so don’t judge it too much! Also, I really want to focus on this story so I’ll be channeling my attention into this story when I’m not at school or at work! Xoxo

———-

PART TWO l PART THREE

#mintedmango #therealmintedmango #bts #jung hoseok #min yoongi #park jimin #jeon jungkook #kim namjoon #kim taehyung #kim seokjin #werewolf #werewolf AU #BTS werewolf #BTS werewolf au #cerberus #BTS Cerberus

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f0rtunes-fool · 2 months

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Why Kotoko Yuzuriha is very Flip coded - a mini analysis of the song + her character

(And yes, this is what I spend my time on.)

So, first of all, the song's meaning itself. The song (to me at least) seems to be about someone acting vengance out on another, and slowly losing their sanity in the process. This can be interpreted from the lyrics, and way the music gets more intense as the song goes on.

So, the reason why I think Kotoko fits this song should be pretty obvious just from that - a good portion of her character revolves around her seeking out vengance (justice) on people who deserved it, and we can tell from the way she slowly started to become the wolf at the end of HARROW, and then the final few scenes of Deep Cover where she turns into the werewolf, that this was slowly destroying her as well.

Now, could I leave the analysis like this? Yes, I could. But am I going to? Not at all, because this is me we're talking about.

With that being said, let's look at the lyrics of Flip itself and how they fit Kotoko in turn.

Verse 1

"Here's to the one with the smoking stare

Running through my head with a bolo knife

Chopping up the threads made up from looms

Of love and blood and hate and some empty tunes"

From HARROW, it's implied from the pinboard in Kotoko's... room(?) that she dedicated a lot of time and thought to seeking out her victim. The "smoking stare" and the "bolo knife chopping up the threads" are all references to how the mc (who I'm just going to refer to as Jane for convinience) constantly had their mind filled with their victim, to the point where their mind was slowly breaking because of it (the threads = Jane's sanity/thoughts, probably.)

Verse 2

"Eyes killer cold and black and bare

Freaky little tooth hanging solo

Sucking at the walls like a rolo now

Making a cocoon when my brain fits"

Tbh, I don't really see how this could fit Kotoko from what we know, as this verse seems more about "Jane" demonising their victim internally, twisting them and making them seem more freakish and disgusting in their mind as their desire to go after them twists their own mind even more. From what we've seen with Kotoko, this might have potentially been a thing that she did, but again, it's not really clear so.

Chorus 1

"I wanna go back, I wanna go back

I wanna go back with a club and attack

I wanna take to my guns and break you

I gotta make my little foe take his own"

In terms of Kotoko, this is fairly straight forward - she wanted to hurt her victim, she wanted to attack him (though she did it with her hands and feet, not any kind of weapon.) The only line that doesn't really fit is the last one (which annoys me) but we can just skip over that, lol. In terms of "Jane," this is also straight forward and backs up my interpretation of the song. The thoughts of getting revenge on this person and harming them consumed them, and they were either going to attack them themselves, or make them commit suicide.

Verse 3

"I've overgrown with a yellow mold

Just fizzing drones in a hollow dome

My funny nose dripping little groans

I'm so so cold in the marrow of my bones"

Now, in Flip, this is the point where the music starts to get more intense, which, as I mentioned, is representative of how "Jane" was starting to lose their mind because of their fixation of getting vengance on their victim. In Kotoko terms, we see how her mind/tunnel vision was initially a pale yellowish colour in HARROW, but in Deep Cover, it was a dark, more toxic-looking yellow/green colour - it had become even worse - hence, "overgrown." This is also a good indication of how Kotoko's mentality was hurting her and destroying her - but yet, she kept at it.

Verse 4

"I look at you as you take a snooze

Your skinny lips dripping rabid goo

I lift your chin and I grin at you

As you come to, man

I'm running 'round your head with a bolo knife"

By this point in Flip, "Jane" has found their victim (and is still demonising them, hence the "rabid goo") and gets to kill them, and is super happy about it (hence why they're grinning as they do so.) We can also see plainly how Kotoko was reeealllyyyy happy at getting to kill her victim, a fact that is obvious both in HARROW (the shots of her smiling before and after her murder) and in her t1 VD, where we can hear her laughing and basically saying that she enjoyed the murder and has no regrets for what she's done.

Chorus 2/The ending (since this repeats 3 times)

"I'm gonna go back, I'm gonna go back

I'm gonna go back to a face, no more mask

I was in full bloom until I met you

I'm gonna shake my fetters I'm breaking loose"

The overall gist of this final chorus refers to how "Jane" no longer has to hide who they are after killing their victim - though it's unclear whether this "mask" was just their sanity that has finally slipped, or just them finally going back to normalcy afterwards (I'm sticking with the first option, based off of the other lines.) Fetters is another term used for shackles used to restrain prisoners, which can again be linked back to the whole "sanity" part of this - breaking free from the fetters = breaking free of their own godamn mind. Again, this links back to how Kotoko was slowly twisted more and more after she killed her victim, which is, again, evident in the ending of Deep Cover, with the shot of the werewolf coming out and looming over her, representing how distorted and monstrous Kotoko's become.

"Fox is this really what you spend your time on" YES YES IT IS.

#perry the fucking platyplus godammit #drywallisedible #milgram #milgram project #kotoko yuzuriha #milgram analysis #glass animals #zaba #flip #Spotify

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