So, I’m doing Camp NaNoWriMo this year. This here is my first day of writing, would you guys be interested in any more? If so I’ll post here daily with updates! The title is currently a work in progress
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In an antique store in the middle of Perlston, Washington is a journal that’s surprisingly still empty considering the age of it. The cover is worn brown leather and the spine is stitched with faded jade green thread in the shape of some runic sigils that were meaningless to the shop owner. It sits in the glass front case where the cash register is, mostly just because of the age of the object but something in Walter Herrington’s gut told him not to shelve it with the collection of paperback bodice rippers in the worn old bookcase towards the furniture section.
Now, Perlston, Washington was not a big town. It was situated a few miles off of SR-18 on the edge of the forest. They didn’t get a lot of traffic from outsiders, with the exception of hikers stopping in to stock up before tackling the mountain trails ahead. A new face, therefore, was always big news. Erin Curett was the newest face in town, a librarian brought in fresh out of graduate school to take over for the old school librarian.
Why not catch up on Waterfalls and Whirlpools, in celebration of an incoming new chapter, within the next day or two! Hopefully I’ll finish this up this Nano!
Under New Skies (Female Lizardfolk x Female Reader)
Three days into your little solo camping venture, you were regretting not paying more attention during that one astronomy class you took to fulfill your science gen ed in school. The little clearing where you’d set up was about a mile down a dirt path off of a main thoroughfare, and only the fact that it was midweek and getting into autumn kept things relatively quiet. You hadn’t come across another camper since you set up your tent and fire pit, spending your time pretty happily alone. Something has felt off all day though. It was so misty when you woke up, damp tendrils coiling along the ground and into the trees, so dense you couldn’t see past the treeline at all. You felt electric, almost like what you’ve read about before lightning strikes, all of your hair standing on end. Nothing happened though, and by late morning the sun had taken care of the mist leaving the day unseasonably warm.
Now, though, it’s nighttime, and something definitely seems wrong. You should be able to see the big and little dipper at this time of year, but they don’t seem to be anywhere in the sky? None of the constellations you can name seem to be anywhere actually. You don’t want to dwell on it, chalking it up to ignorance, but it leaves a niggling in the back of your brain. You wish you’d paid more attention to a lot of things, now. Were these forest sounds familiar? You want to say you’ve heard these bugs before, and birds, and frogs, but really would you notice if they were different? You think you would, hope you would. Something feels off though, but you put it off to deal with it in the morning.
That lump of lead hasn’t gone away by morning, and even though you’re meant to spend another night here you decide to cut the trip short and trek back to your car. It’s a ten mile hike from where you are to where you parked, a straight shot once you make the mile back to the main trail. You take care to clean, making yourself a thermos of coffee for the road before putting out the fire, and leaving the campsite behind with nothing to signify your presence other than a small ring of rocks surrounding cold, damp ash.
The first few minutes of your hike, you keep telling yourself you’re cutting you trip short due to paranoia. But you promise yourself a treat to make up for it, maybe some pastries and a gourmet coffee to make up for the freeze dried instant stuff you’re currently drinking, with enough powdered non dairy creamer to choke an actual cow. You don’t notice how long you’ve been walking, until you’re pretty sure you’ve walked well over a mile on this dinky little pathway through the underbrush, and you really should have come across the main trail now. Sitting on a downed log you pull out your map and your phone. You curse the lack of bars, regretting not bringing your little handheld satellite GPS receiver, but you’d thought it would be overkill for a short and straightforward hike like this. That will show you to never do that again, you suppose. Still, your compass says you’ve been walking the right direction, and you wonder if maybe you just haven’t gone quite far enough. Still, you keep your phone out, knowing that you should at least get a bar or two on the main trail, considering you were using it on the hike in.
By the time lunch rolls around, you haven’t made it anywhere it seems like. Sure you’ve made progress, but you know you’ve walked at least half a dozen miles, and you still have no cell site, you’ve seen no main road, no other travelers. You sit, resting against a tree, and study your map while you eat a protein bar. You’re scrutinizing, trying to figure out where you might be if you’ve gotten turned around. You wonder briefly if you should head back for the clearing you came from and wait it out another night, but what would that do really? You left at the only trailhead leading out of the clearing, that leads onto the same straightforward little trodden path that should have hit the main trail hours ago. There are no paths branching off of that one, and you haven’t stepped foot off the path since you began walking. You finish your protein bar with a grimace and have a few sips of water before angrily folding your map and continuing to follow the path.
The sun is just touching the tops of the trees when the little path you’ve been walking down all day finally intersects with a trail. You say a trail and not the trail, because this road that you’re now standing on looks completely unfamiliar to you. It looks like an old through road, unpaved and with two well worn ruts for what look like cart wheels running along it. You don’t see any sort of civilization either direction, and you’re contemplating climbing a tree to see what you can make out from up that high, but you really don’t want to be stuck in the middle of nowhere in need of an ambulance and you aren’t exactly a spry young child anymore, capable of climbing trees on a whim.
You wrack your brain, trying to figure something, anything out. You know that when you left the main trail onto what had been a small path to your campsite you’d turned right, so you should turn left down the trail to get back to your car. You head that way, despite all contrary evidence you keep hoping that if you just push through it you’ll reach your car and be headed back home. Maybe you’d go see a doctor, or maybe you’d just sleep off this experience, but it would be over and you could go back to the regular world.
When it’s well and truly night, and you still haven’t seen hide nor hair of another person, you let yourself settle down for a good cry. The moon is full, and you can at least see where you’re going, but all that does is illuminate everything that’s wrong. You should be able to see some sort of light pollution nearby, the sky shouldn’t be this full of stars, why is there no noisy civilization. You should be close enough to hear cars on the road, so where are they? You know you should settle down and wait for morning, but you know your brain just won’t let you sleep. So why rest? You keep pushing forward, and by the time the sun is rising you just want to collapse into another sobbing heap as the road continues ever on in front of you.
You aren’t hungry, anxiety eating at your stomach as much as it is your head. You do make sure to choke something down though, knowing that if you’re going to keep walking you need to keep calories in you. You’re thankful that the road runs near to a running source of water, you can hear that at least sometimes in the background and it’s easy enough to find once you go looking. Filling up your large canteen, you drop a water purification tablet in and continue out on your trek. Running on fear and anxiety, you stagger on for what could have been hours, or maybe only minutes, or maybe even days (okay that’s a bit of an exaggeration) until you reach a fork in the road.
Now, do you go the Robert Frost take the road less traveled with its overgrown footpath and dark canopy, or do you listen to the horror trope screaming at you in the face and take the well maintained and nicely lit pathway? Your desire to not wind up murdered wins out, and you take the brightly lit road with its well worn ruts. Robert Frost will have to wait until you aren’t in an actual life or death situation to come in with his wisdom. Although when you trip in one of those well worn ruts and sprain your ankle two miles later you’re rethinking your decision. So, you break down, and I mean who can blame you?
-------
Two days ago, and a handful of hours, Rha’ss felt her chaining for the first time. Usually sometime around reaching maturity one’s chaining would make itself known. Some bloomed slightly earlier, some later, but most who made it into their thirtieth year without it knew that they would not find themselves being called by their other half. It wasn’t unheard of at all for these unfated pairs to still love and live together, but the connection of a chained couple was known to be unrivaled, such that even high born nobles would take their fated regardless of status.
At thirty-eight Rha’ss had resigned herself to life without a chain, becoming a sellsword content with the knowledge that there would be none to truly mourn her when the time came. So imagine her surprise when she woke in the middle of the night to feel that gentle pull in the center of her chest, a yearning wrapped ‘round her heart that would not be fixed until the subject of her desires was with her. Between contracts as she was, it didn’t take long for her to be fixed on her horse and following the gentle pull in her chest.
She wondered then what had happened to have brought the bond to life so suddenly. Were you just coming of age? How would she handle that, and the differential that comes with such a difference in life experiences? Was there something else that had kept the bond dormant for so long? Were you merely far from her, and only now in close enough proximity for it to kindle? She hopes you won’t be disappointed by her, a hardened and jaded mercenary. She long buried her love and affection beneath a tough veneer of indifference, necessary for the blood she traded in. How would you handle holding hands that had dealt death?
Rha’ss isn’t sure what to make of you when she first comes across you. You’re curled in the middle of the road, sobbing, with your hands pressed against your face. From what she can see you’re too tall to be a gnome, but your ears are round so you can’t be an elf. Maybe half elf half gnome? You’re dressed so oddly too. In bright colors and materials she’s never seen before. Your shoes are odd to her, your coat, your bag. Everything is so strange. But when you look up, and your watery eyes sparkle against the sun as you stare up at her, she can’t find it in her to be upset.
“What’s the matter sweetling?”
-------
You find yourself staring up at an imposing creature astride a rather large dapple grey horse. They look like a lizardfolk out of a fantasy game, their reptilian face gleaming like jade in the bright sun. Their head is crested with pink and teal moving down their spine in impressive pointed frills almost like a mohawk. Their slitted eyes are a bright yellow, matching some of the scales that look almost like freckles across their shoulders and down their arms. Their throat leading down into their shirt is a pale cream, and the whole look is rather impressive. You wonder briefly at the edge of your consciousness if you should be scared, but something in your chest that’s been tight since two mornings ago seems to have relaxed now that you’re thinking of it.
Still, this...person? Person. This person is definitely not a human. And isn’t that something to think about? You wonder briefly if you’re in shock, did you actually break your ankle? Is this some weird fantasy your brain has stirred up to keep you from passing out and dying? Is all of this some weird fever dream where you’ll wake up in your campsite after a bout of food poisoning vowing to never eat rations again?
“What’s the matter sweetling?” Their voice is rough and feminine, low and rasping but with a lilt and timbre that makes you think of your grandmother in some odd way. They’re off their horse now, kneeling over you and looking down at you with such tenderness that all you can do is start sobbing anew and throw yourself at them. They shush you with quiet murmurs of nothing, taloned hands gently sifting through your hair to scratch at your scalp soothingly. Somehow, you choke out everything. From the changed pathway, to the different stars, to the different bugs, even to themselves.
“I don’t know what’s going on. Everything is all wrong, none of this makes sense! I can’t - I don’t know where I am, I can’t figure out how to get home. What do I do?” The being surrounding you gives a low, soothing hum, and their cool skin helps ground you.
“Well, sweetling, I can tell you that you’re at the border between the riverlands and dragon’s spire.” They give a thoughtful hum when your face remains as confused as ever. “In Xanthalan?” Your brows knit together further, and she huffs a little. “Why don’t we start with where you’re from, sweetling, and maybe your name at that. I am Rha’ss, daughter of Sharath, protector of the dragon’s spire.”
When you introduce yourself, with much less pomp, she finds herself confused. “I’ve never heard of that land before, and I have traveled across the great East sea to the basin of the world, and across the great North sea to the kingdoms of ice.” She frowns in thought, staring down at you heavily. “Where is your map?” When you fumble your map out of your bag and hand it to her she frowns again as she unfolds it. “This doesn’t make much sense…” She studies the map with you caged in against her chest, her arms still wrapped around you. “I think we need to pay a friend of mine a visit.”
Rha’ss moves to stand and pull you up with her, and you go with it completely forgetting your ankle. Until, of course, it decides to give under you when you try to put your weight on it. You’re pleasantly surprised by Rha’ss’ strength, as she catches you easily without stumbling. You mumble a shy apology, but she just gives you a warm look and caresses your cheek with her thumb lovingly. She helps you onto her horse, mounting behind you and wrapping her arms around your waist to take the reins. You feel small in front of her, she must be at least seven feet tall the way the top of your head doesn’t even graze her chin. You don’t have much riding experience, and it shows, but she’s patient with you, and the way she guides your hips into the rhythm of riding is surprisingly sensual.
It’s only a two hour ride at a moderate pace before you come across a small town built alongside the road. There’s an inn, and what looks like a general store, but that’s all you can make out before Rha’ss is pulling you bodily from the horse’s back and carrying you into the inn like a bride over a threshold. After settling you gently in a chair by the fire she greets the innkeeper and barkeep like old friends, complete with embraces that make you suddenly and unexpectedly jealous, all in a hissing sort of language you don’t understand. They’re both lizardfolk like she is, so you’re guessing it’s their own language.
You take a few moments to look around. There are a few others in here, not lizardfolk so this isn’t a planet purely populated by reptilian people. It looks like some orcs, and something furry with round ears - maybe a gnoll? And then a pair of short but intimidating looking...you’d have guessed humans but who knows at this point, both with impressive beards. So dwarves? You’re brought out of your reverie when Rha’ss walks back over to you carrying two frothy mugs and a roll of what looks like linen. “Let me bind your ankle sweetling, and then we can talk more.” The care with which she handles you makes you feel secure down to your bones, but you’re dreading trying to come to terms with whatever it is that’s happened to bring you here.
Under Rha’ss’ watchful stare you take a long sip of the drink she’s brought you, thankful that at least honey mead is honey mead regardless of whatever else is going on around you. “I don’t even know where to start…” You sound exhausted even to your own ears, the kind of weary that extends past physical tiredness and into the realm of a soul deep exhaustion. “I was camping, having a fine few days in the woods, but the other night I noticed the stars didn’t look quite right. I couldn’t find any of my landmarks. And then my trail disappeared, and I don’t know where I am. I don’t know how I got here. None of this makes sense. I’m just a normal human, from a normal family, lizard folk and orcs and stuff, none of this should be real. I can feel you’re real like I am though, and I’m starting to think I’m not hallucinating all of this…” You take another deep drink of your honey mead before placing your tankard down on the table and resting your face in your hands tiredly.
When you look back at Rha’ss she’s staring with a confused look on her face. “What’s ‘human?’ Is that your clan?”
You give her an equally confused glance. “No? It’s my species? My race?”
She doesn’t look appeased by that. “I’ve never heard of ‘human’ before.” She hums thoughtfully. “You’re softer than an elf, but bigger than a halfling or a gnome. You’ve got the rounded ears too.” She jerks her chin in your direction and you touch the rounded top of your ear a little self-consciously. She drinks from her own tankard and stares away in thought, you can almost hear the gears working in her head as she tries to puzzle things out. “That map you showed me earlier, you said that was from your home?” You nod at her and she hums again. “But you were camping just along the dragon’s spire, I know that land better than almost any and your map is fully foreign to me.” She frowns in contemplation, mumbling to herself before pinning you with a serious look. “Tell me what you know of heart’s calls and chaining.” You stare at her as confused as ever, you aren’t sure what you’ve done wrong as her face falls while you look on. Her sigh is weary and resigned, but she gives a grimace of a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “Worry not sweetling, all will be revealed in time. Qruz has told me that the Wizard Gorux has made himself comfortable in the inn as of yesterday. It seems we were expected, we’re to meet tomorrow.”
You just nod your head tiredly at this point, too overwhelmed to even question it any longer. You can’t lift your head again though, crashing hard after the stressful past days. You’re already half asleep when Rha’ss picks you up again and settles you on a rather comfortable straw mattress in an upstairs room, and you’re out completely with barely enough time to mumble your thanks.
-------
When you wake the next morning, the first thing you notice is that you aren’t alone. While you’re alone in your little bed, you can see the lizard person, Rha’ss, from the day before, along with a somehow even taller and broader orc sitting across from her at a small table. They’re conversing lowly, and you can’t understand them over the crackling of the fire. The orc is dressed in ornately embroidered robes, and has a plethora of feathers and glass beads woven through his black hair. He looks wizened but not old, his hair lacking even a single streak of silver but his eyes carrying the weight of centuries.
You don’t really pay attention as he comes over and asks you a few questions, you can tell from them that Rha’ss has shared your story. He smudges you with some fragrant herbs, although you can’t place what any of them are and that sends a pang of sadness through your heart. Whatever he sees though makes his face go grim and he settles the lizard woman in the chair with a heavy look. “Aye, lass, it’s as ye thought. It isn’t the first time a bond has made it across time and space, but this is something I’ve only read about. It hasn’t happened in a millenia at the least. Do not take this gift lightly.” He turns to fix you with an inscrutable stare, dark eyes searching your face. His eyes soften though, and with an exhaled puff of air he places one large hand on the crown of your head and mumbles something in a language you’ve never heard before. “Blessings on you little one, I do not envy your position, but I know Rha’ss, I know she will love you and cherish you until the end of days if you let her. Do not ignore your chaining, the both of you will suffer for it.”
He’s gone before you can ask him about it, and Rha’ss is staring at you guardedly. “I guess it’s time for me to explain that eh?” She pulls a small leather pouch out of her pack, removing a pipe and what smells like it might be tobacco. You watch as she packs the leaf into the bowl of the pipe, soothing herself with the practiced repetitive motion. “Never thought I’d find myself doing this. See, sweetling, from the time we’re babes we hear about our calling. Our heart’s calling, or we call it the chaining. Because it’s said to feel like a chain pulling us together. I’d never felt it, my whole life. I dedicated myself to my sword, to battle. But I woke three nights ago to a feeling in my chest I knew with certainty was it.” She stands from the table then, leaving her pipe abandoned and unsmoked as she moves to kneel before you. “I was trying to fathom who might be waiting for me at the other end of my chain, and sweetling, it was you. Please, tell me you feel it.” Her hands are on your knees, and her yellow eyes are full of open affection and fear it won’t be reciprocated.
You reach up to stroke over her reptilian snout, soft little fingers skating up the butt of her jaw. “I know that I was panicking until I met you. That as soon as you held me I knew I’d never been safer in my whole life. I can’t promise this will always be easy for me, and that I won’t make mistakes, but I can promise to try.” Rha’ss relaxes against you burying her head against your stomach and gripping tightly at the back of your shirt. You lean down to kiss the top of her head between her eyes, and she curiously nuzzles up against your breasts when they crowd in against her. Your soft giggle at the action makes her face light up, and she begins rubbing against you with her jaw trying to make you laugh again.
Once she has you laughing you tug her face up to your own, kissing along the top of her nose. Her scales are cool and smooth against your lips, and she lets out an affectionate chittering noise when she feels your soft mouth on her. She strokes her tongue over your cheek and throat, letting out a high, throaty sigh at your taste. The gentle prick of her talons at your hips barely keeps you grounded as she laves over your skin with her dark, forked tongue in repeated strokes. You can’t help letting out a sigh of pleasure when that curiously dextrous appendage presses down the front of your shirt and skates over the cup of your bra. She seems intrigued by the garment, and with questioning eyes she tugs at the hem of your shirt.
You let Rha’ss strip it from you wordlessly, lifting your arms over your head until you’re left in your bra and hiking pants on the bed. Her talons gently trace the cup of your bra and up the straps to your shoulders. “This looks much nicer than a corset sweetling, not that I’d know much about that either way.” She leans down to lick a hot stripe down between your breasts before sneakily pushing her tongue underneath the front busk between the cups. You’re thankful to be wearing a front closing bra, and with only a little bit of experimentation she’s used her hands to pop it open, letting it fall aside to bare your chest to her. Her taloned hands have been smoothing and stroking up your sides, from your hips over the side of your chest and back down, gently massaging at your hips at they sit there momentarily before repeating their journey.
When you cry out Rha’ss’ name in frustration as she merely gazes down at you, she repeats yours back to you in a smitten sigh. Her knuckles gently graze over the peaks of your nipples, and she watches your face to learn what you like and how to touch you. She gently pinches them between two fingers, giving an experimental tug before fondling your breasts in earnest, her tongue licking stripes along your shoulders and throat. She has one firm thigh lodged between yours, and you can feel her cool skin heating beneath the languid thrusts your hips make up searching for friction.
Her head soon replaces her hands, that prehensile tongue coiling around one breast before giving a firm lick up the center to rasp over your nipple. You barely notice her hands as they skate down your stomach, talons dipping into the waist of your pants before she tugs at them softly, looking up at you with hopeful eyes. You lift your hips in assent, feeling bereft for a moment as she moves away only long enough to tug your pants and panties down in one fell swoop. She tugs her own garments off then too, a simple tunic and linen pants that whisper to the floor as she tosses them carelessly aside.
Rha’ss is on you again then, and over you. Her face is tucked into your neck, tongue scenting and tasting your skin as she presses your soft breasts against her cool, firm torso. The give of them against her is enticing, and she relishes in the way that you arch up into her when her thigh finally makes contact with your bare core. The heat is so intense against her cool skin, and she presses up against you harder in an attempt to feel more of it. You’re burning hot and so slick. She grips your hips, just careful enough not to prick you with her talons, although you may be sporting bruises later. She uses this leverage to move you up and down against her, drawing your slick heat over her flesh and painting her with your essence.
Your head is thrown back, baring your neck up submissively. One of your hands is caressing down over her head and neck, skating along the base of her frills. They had been tucked down against her back, but as she loses herself to pleasure you find them occasionally flaring unconsciously. Your other hand is at her back, at the base of her tail. You hadn’t really noticed it until now. Reaching down for a handful of her buttocks you instead catch the base of her tail, although the way it makes her stutter and cry out against your throat has you abandon your original goal in favor of stroking over where her tail meets her back with your soft hands and blunt nails.
Your orgasm sneaks up on you, one moment you’re lost in your partner and the next you’re almost whiting out as the heat licks down your spine and your back arches. You cry out Rha’ss’ name, toes curling and thighs cramping as you reach your ecstasy. She spreads you out before her, and as you’re fuzzy from your pleasure you watch as she teases something from a slit at the apex of her thighs. It’s not quite as large as a penis, although it’s much thicker at the base and tapers to an odd blunt, angled tip. “When you’re ready, sweetling, I’ll fill you with my brood, but this will do for now.” She sighs happily when she slips the cool organ between your labia to rut against you. The oddly cool and slick sensation against your clit has you clenching again, and you cry out loudly when the tip prods at your hole only to just barely slip inside.
Rha’ss lets out a guttural noise when your hot body surrounds her, and you can feel the organ lengthen inside you even as it gets thinner. One of her hands comes down to stroke at your clit, touching you in just the right way that has you clenching harder. You’re still so tight around her, gripping her in all the right places. You’re surprised by her orgasm, a cool fluid gushing from the tip inside of you and flowing out to coat your inner thighs. It smells strangely sweet and heady, and the feeling of her coming inside of you along with her incessant fingers on your clit has you reaching your peak again.
Rha’ss falls beside you, pulling you in to lay on her chest. She feels blissfully cool against your heated skin. There will be more to work out and talk about, this is only the beginning of something after all, but you find yourself feeling oddly at peace with things. You know there will be trials, and that things won’t always be easy for you considering the abrupt and complete change of your lifestyle. But in this moment, you find you’re more excited than anxious. You’re pulled from your contemplation by Rha’ss fingers gently sifting through your hair to reach your scalp, lulling you to sleep with gentle touches and soft words.
This? This is self indulgent trash. I know I’ve been MIA for a bit, mental health is a helluva thing. Remember kids, take care of yourself. But, I’m back, I have a few stories in the works, hopefully at least one maybe two a week for the next little bit. If you’re on my discord you’ve likely already seen that I’m back and you’re here via a link. You guys have been messaging a little here and there lately, and even if I haven’t participated I want you to know it’s why I came back at all.
This is a little violent and gory, but also fluffy and very loving.
You’d never been considered much by the standards of your village. Or, maybe, you were too much. Too headstrong, too opinionated, too adventurous, too mannish. Your mother and father never stopped you though, your mother seeing much of herself in you when she was young. But as you grew, you never settled. As a child, declaring that you’d become a wandering healer was just like declaring that you’d become a princess: the dream of one too young to know how the world worked, sweet but naive. Truly, they never expected you’d go through with it, pity they couldn’t live to talk you out of it.
You’d been on the road a few years at this point. After their passing, at the hands of a harsh winter with too many sick and too few who could competently heal, you picked up and left. You’d been begging to apprentice with the old woman, Aldra, who took care of your village’s elderly and infirm, but she steadfastly refused. And then winter, and death, came to the village, and Aldra was taken quickly, with no one who could replace her as she’d taken none on.
Your first year was spent grieving, you wandered, and foraged. You’d slept outside more often than not, although getting used to that was not as difficult as you’d expected. The countryside was temperate, a long growing season with little snow in the winter but much rain in the spring. You couldn’t work your way along as men might, plying strength of arm for coin or roof, but by the second year you learned what you could do, and what you wouldn’t. Scrubbing dishes was not beneath you, and serving sometimes earned an extra copper or two from some poor soul wishing for your company. You weren’t much good with animals, although at milking you were a quick study, and you could feed chickens with the best of them.
It was in your second year of wandering that you met Gunag and Vothag. You avoided larger settlements as much as possible, preferring to stick to backcountry roads, small villages and hamlets. In your head as you tended to be at that point, you managed to miss the sounds of battle. Focused, as you were, on the book you’d managed to scrounge enough coppers for depicting medicinal plant life in this part of the world. You were comparing a burst of purple flowers to a drawing of something called Comfrey, that’s meant to help with bruising along with a long list of other ailments. “This looks right…” You’re muttering to yourself, when you’re suddenly taken to the ground and covered with the heavy, sweaty weight of a man.
You move to protest, but before you can he’s blocking a sword swing with a set of bracers, and you see an arrow where your head would have been embedded in the trunk of a tree. The sound of blade piercing flesh is loud, but you can’t see where it comes from. “That’s three for me, Gunag, and one left to beat your score!” You hear the body above you grumble, but you’re pinned with a stern brown gaze.
“You alright? Gotta look where you’re goin’. Not safe for a lady to be on the road by ‘erself, I don like it one bit.” You sputter out a denial, but you’re stopped by the sound of blade piercing flesh again. The wince from the face above you, and the peek of shiny metal piercing through their forearm followed by a flood of blackish blood, tells you where this one came from. Before anyone else can react, you watch the head of the bandit cleaved from its body while a snarling face reveals itself from behind the bloodied stump.
“Fucking coward! Attacking while his back is turned! I’d ask how could you, but you wouldn’t deign me with a response.” The face spits on the falling body before rushing over, pulling the blade from the forearm of your savior and putting pressure on the wound. “You!” The face - that you can now see is attached to a rather attractive Orc woman, all tusks and flinty eyes - gives you a frantic and wide eyed look, gazing from the book on the ground to your somewhat slack, shocked countenance. “What have you got, can you help me?”
“I don’t-I mean-” you stumble over words and you grow pale at the fierce glare you’re given. “I just - I mean I don’t know! This is...this is my first day with this book!” You scramble over to it frantically, trying to recall anything that you could remember. From this book, from any others you managed to leaf through, from your time on the road. “I thought - I just wanted to be able to help - but I’m as useless as ever!” The look you’re given is hard and appraising, before it moves to resigned.
“Fine, just, help me then. You’re not squeamish I hope, strong stomach and all that. Now, hold on here, and press down.” Your hands are guided over the wound, and although they slip slightly on the blood you bite down a flinch and keep pushing. The face of the wounded orc is pale and slightly sweaty, but you get what you’re sure is supposed to be an encouraging smile.
“Doin’ fine there, lass, press harder, won’t hurt me none, at least not any more.” He barks out a rough low laugh, and you can’t help but smile back, putting more of your weight down against the wound. The fierce one comes back, the lady, and gives you a shrewd look of appraisal. Finding you to be doing fine she grunts a little as she kneels down hard on the ground by her companion.
“Alright, gotta rinse it first. Make sure there ain’t no bits in it.” The cold water from a skin makes the injured orc hiss, but he doesn’t move. The lady orc gives it a quick look over before nodding. “Honey next, keeps things out, but helps keep that blood inside where it belongs.” She quickly slathers honey over both sides of the through and through wound as she hands you clean bandages. “You wrap him up good now, I gotta take care of these rogues.” She nods at you with a trusting smile and you feel your cheeks heat before you obey her quickly.
“Ah, she likes you.” You’re startled out of your own thoughts again by the orc whose arm you’re wrapping. “Vothag, she likes you.” He gives you a grin, tusks flashing in the sun. “Course she does, you’re a comely lass, if a little small, with a strong stomach and apparently totally incapable of caring for yourself out on the road.” You give a sputtering protest, but it’s not like he’s wrong. You suppose you’ve been relatively lucky the last few months, trailing between some smaller villages in a relatively idyllic part of the world. But you’ve begun wandering further south now, and the further you get from your old home the more wild the world has seemed to become. You wonder, shamefully, if you should have just stayed. Settled. Done what was wanted of you, been what was wanted of you. “Aw come on now lass, don’t look so contemplative. Gives you this weird little pucker between your brows.”
Before you can even muster the indignation for a response you’re interrupted again by who you now know is Vothag. “Come on then brother, don’t be mean to our new human companion.” Before you can even think to protest she fixes you with another inscrutable and serious stare. “Way I see it, you owe my good brother Gunag a life debt small one, and you’re in no position to be left out here in the wildlands on your own.” She crosses her arms, almost expecting you to deny it, but you just give a little huff and nod.
“You’re right. I don’t know what I’m doing. But if you’re willing to take me on I’d do my best.” Gunag gives a cheer, you missed him sitting up and settling beside you as Vothag stands over the both of you. His injured arm wraps around your shoulders, tugging you in to ruffle at your head with his strong hand.
“Come on then lass! We were headed for an inn, but it looks like another night under the stars is in order! Tell me you can at least start a fire.” You give Gunag a withering stare, deadpan, and Vothag just laughs at both of you.
----
That feels like ages ago by now. Although, four years of traveling the wild is ages to many. Vothag and Gunag took you in quite happily, spending time teaching you to wield a sword (not your favorite, although the way that Vothag laughed when you finally managed to disarm her brother is a memory etched into your psyche) and a bow (all much preferred for you to stay out of close combat range), helping you in your identification of plants, teaching you to stitch wounds, and ultimately making you one of them.
It’s a calm and quiet spring night, Gunag and Vothag are talking quietly in orcish. You’ve learned a bit of it by now, but you still try to give them their privacy and not listen in. You’re fletching some new arrows, sticking the feathers down with a bit of sap and binding them with thread. You’ve gotten quite good at it, although the memory of Vothag’s arms around you, caging you in against her chest as she guided you through the motions as you were learning still makes you blush.
Gunag had been so sure that first year that you and Vothag would make a pair of it, and to be honest you still found that prospect enticing even as sure as you were that nothing would come to pass. You treasured every close moment, every laugh, every open smile, the little dimple in her left cheek that only showed when you managed to make her laugh as wide and open as the plains you crossed your third year together. You were one of them, but you were not hers, as much as you might have longed for it.
“Alright then my little Verbena-” (a nickname you’d acquired when their scent stuck to you for days after a little tumble down a small hill into a patch of the small purple flowers) “-what’s got you lookin’ like that, eh?” Gunag sits down hard beside you, and follows your gaze over to where it had come to rest on his sister. How did you miss the ending of their conversation? You’d been so good lately about controlling your gaze, ensuring that your wandering eye didn’t tarry too long on that strong, orcish woman you’d come to love. He gives a noncommittal hum in your direction along with a slight smirk. Your cheeks heat, but you don’t deign him with a response, instead focusing back on the task at hand of fletching your new arrows. “Don’t give up hope lass, just give her time.”
You huff. Time? Time?! You’ve given her nothing but time. Time, and patience, things you never had in abundance anyway, but still you waited. Pined. Hoped. You find you’ve badly mangled two of the feathers on the shaft and tug them off halfheartedly with a sigh. Gunag gives you a pat on the shoulder before moving to take over dinner at the fire. The feathers are not salvageable, so you cut another feather in half, using the spare half from the last set for a third. You’re still stuck in your thoughts, that much never really stopped, but you break out of them at a shift and crack of a stick behind you.
You whirl around, hoping that all it is is some game animal getting too curious and close. You don’t have that kind of luck though. You’re greeted by what seems like it should be the scout of some human bandits or raiders. Clumsy, stupid, loud, but still dressed to blend in. He’s tried to tuck himself behind a tree that’s a bit small for his frame, and when he sees you’ve noticed him he tucks a finger to his lips as he points a crossbow at Gunag’s back. Before you can think, or say anything, he’s let off a shot and you’re diving. You don’t feel the arrow at first, but when you land you can hear yourself screaming.
The searing pain takes a moment to set in, and when you go to grab at your burning forearm you find an arrow pierced entirely through it, a river of crimson blood dripping down your arm to your elbow. The fight is relatively quick, the scout dispatched before he can load another bolt into his crossbow, and the rest scatter after the failed ambush, unwilling to take on two orcs showing signs of greater battle prowess than they were ready for.
Vothag finds you passed out from shock, gripping at your forearm with a steadily growing pool of blood around you. Her curse is rough, and her normally sparkling eyes are as hard and worried as that first day you met her. It’s your turn though, under this protective gaze. She’s thankful you’re unconscious as she removes the arrow from your arm and binds it with some honey and arrowroot powder. You still squirm, your face pinching as you try to pull away, and that’s even better. You’ll be fine, she tells herself. She’s seen people come through from worse, you’ll be fine.
Still, this means you’ve finally repaid your blood debt. She wasn’t serious, that first night, really just trying to think of a reason to get you to stick around with her and her idiot brother. She’d been expecting you to balk at the suggestion, fight back like the spitfire you really are. But that day showed your fire was only one side of you, a very attractive one to be sure, but still only a facet. You looked so unsure, so forlorn, so lost when you declared yourself unfit for the wild, and put yourself in their care. So, if you accepted the blood debt, she couldn’t well pursue you while it remained unpaid. Otherwise her clan could accuse her of pressuring you, of declaring the blood debt in order to persuade a human to her side and her bed. No, better to train you up, take care of you, make sure you could handle yourself, before finding someone to clear the debt and leave her free and clear to have you as she would please.
This though, this is the reality of a blood debt paid in full. You took that bolt meant for Gunag, your little human arm rent through, your first real battle scar. Hopefully your last, if she had anything to say about it. Vothag knows you well enough to know that you would never settle for life in even a stronghold, as much different as they were from the human villages they’d passed through. You had a wandering spirit too big to stifle. But still, she’d rather take your wandering back somewhere safe, where the roads are mostly patrolled, and she and her brother can sell their strength of arm instead of their strength of arms.
------
It takes you several hours to wake, the shock and blood loss don’t help. You come to consciousness slowly, the usual merry crackling of the fire and the gentle hum of insects in the night a white noise that brings a sense of comfort. “Ah, looks like you’re awake my little Verbena. And you took a bolt for me girl, things like that aren’t done lightly.” Gunag ruffles an affectionate hand gently through your hair.
You give him a slightly confused look, tipping your head to the side. “You took a blade for me when we met, and we didn’t even know each other.” His smile is small and a little wry.
“Ah, you walked into that fight, I didn’t take that blade for you as much as it was coming for me already. This though, lass, you took it for me.” A large warm hand clasps around your forearm, his smile is almost achingly tender and fraternal. He rumbles out a sentence in orcish, something in a dialect you haven’t heard and with words and cadence you can barely make out. “Your debt to me is paid, lass, and then some. But you’re still ours, eh?” The look turns hopeful. “Not gonna...gonna run off and join some human settlement we’ll only ever pass through.”
You laugh, a little hoarse and quiet but still yours. “You couldn’t make me even if you wanted to.”
“Glad to hear that, then.” Vothag’s voice interrupts the two of you, soft and almost unsure. She gives Gunag an indecipherable look, but he seems to get the gist and with a wistful, still hopeful, smile he takes his leave while Vothag settles into the vacant spot left beside you. “You gave me fright, honey.” Your face heats immediately at the name, and the tender way she’s looking at you. She’s only ever called you by your name, or sometimes, jokingly, as “humie” when you were doing something she found particularly entertainingly un-Orcish. “Finding you on the ground like that, covered in blood. Never again.” Her vow is like her iron will, unflinching and steady. She gives a sigh after it, looking down at you in a way you’d almost call love-struck. “Oh my precious little human…” her calloused fingers trail over your soft cheeks, feeling the growing heat there as she strokes your skin reverently. “I’ve been searching for some time, for an appropriate way to get you out of the debt I so carelessly put upon you our first meeting.” Her hand cups your cheek then, and she leans down to cage you in with her long dark locks, blanketing you from the outside world so it’s only the two of you. “Now that you’re free though, my heart, my soul, my self, I can offer them to you. Freely. Without coercion. Would you still have me? Even without ties that bind us together?”
You laugh first, and her face falls, but you reach up your good hand to cup her own cheek. “So long. I have waited, for so long, for you to ask me that.” Vothag’s smile returns at that, so wide as to make that dimple you love so much appear, even without her laughter. That smile, it belongs only to you. And you’re going to hoard it, forever. “Of course, you silly thing. Vothag, I have been yours for so long, I have only been waiting for you to notice. Of course I’ll have you, you’re quite stuck with me I’m afraid.” Her kiss is tender and soft, taking care with her tusks as she slants her lips over yours. You want her to take you, there and then by the fire out under the blanket of stars, but the crashing sound of her brother’s footsteps pulls you from that dream.
“Finally! Vothag finally got the stones to ask eh? Or are you taking advantage of our poor, injured girl sister mine?” The glare he gives her is as fake as the grin on his face is real. The shy little smile and giggle you offer in answer just makes him abandon the glare altogether in favor of the jovial, sparkling eyes of the family line. Not so nice as Vothag’s, you think to yourself, but still a welcome sight. “Well then, looks like I’ll soon have two sisters eh?” Vothag sputters a little at this, but neither of you deny it, and you spend the first of many nights that night wrapped up in the strong arms of your wandering warrior.
The journey to their family stronghold isn’t a long one, only three months, and you find yourself more than a little surprised to be welcomed into the home of the chief and greeted as family. With the years you’d spent on the road together, you’d have thought they may have mentioned their station or family ties. But it also doesn’t escape you that not once in the many years they’ve been traveling have they come home. Still, Vothag wants to marry you in the tradition of her people, and doing so means clan ties, and clan ties mean the stronghold. It turns out their father is the chief’s brother, or was. They struck out wandering much like you after the death of their parents, that much at least you knew, but you didn’t know how high ranking the siblings were.
The ceremony was traditional, and you spent the afternoon and evening getting sewn into your crushed red velvet dress, trimmed with gold embroidery and covered in small gems from waist to shoulder. Vothag comes in new ceremonial armor, polished to a high sheen. Her dark hair is braided back from her face, run through with beads and feathers. The coils of unbraided curls offset the braids, making her look fierce and untamed. The wicked blade at Vothag’s waist makes you smile, your wedding gift to her. Your own gift was a set of fine bracers, as beautiful as they were sturdy, and you noticed they were conspicuously high enough to cover the scar of where you had been run through with a bolt.
You pledge yourselves to one another under the height of the moon, Vothag’s uncle performing the ceremony with a wide smile on his tusked face. Humans weren’t a common choice, but the bonds forged on the road were strong and rarely broken if they could last through as much as the three of you had. The feast lasts through the rest of the night and well into the next day, and when you and Vothag stumble into your marriage bed that next afternoon, stripped down naked except for smallclothes, naught but sleeping is done for some time.
When you wake, it’s dark out, but the moonlight streaming in through the window of the cabin combined with the light of the banked fire is enough for your eyes. You shiver lightly at the feather light stroke of a calloused finger down your naked spine. You gasp and arch as the hand attached to that finger grips at the round globe of your ass, tugging to press your core against her hip where your leg is thrown over her body. “Vothag!”
“Oh wife, how I have longed to hear my name from your throat like that, breathless and needy, but you can do it better. I’ll make it better.” You’re swiftly spun and pinned beneath her, your wrists in a firm grip above your head as she runs her lips and tusks along your neck and shoulder, chest and throat. The strokes are slow and deliberate, occasionally interspersed with the slick heat of her tongue or the sharp bite of her teeth. Another one of these nips pulls another breathy “Vothag!” from your lips.
Her smile is predatory as she gazes up at you from between your breasts, and she keeps her eyes on yours as she takes one of your nipples into her hot mouth. Your keening whine prompts an answering groan as she suckles and tongues at the firm bud. Your hands strain to grip at her hair, but she keeps you pinned as she slowly and sensually kisses between your breasts to suckle and nibble at your other nipple. She lavishes your breasts with attention for what feels like maybe hours, although you know it isn’t. Your nipples are raw and throbbing, standing hard at attention. You can feel how needy and wet you are between your thighs, and so can Vothag as you’ve spent the last minutes desperately rutting up against her thigh.
The way you whine her name when she pulls her face away from your chest makes her chuckle darkly. She doesn’t let go of your wrists, merely changing her grip and bringing your captured hands down to your stomach as she throws your thighs over her shoulders. You don’t have time to feel self conscious as she dives in, nudging your labia apart with her tusks as she licks a broad stripe up from the base of your weeping hole all the way over your throbbing clit. She gives your clit a gentle nip, making your hips jerk and you shriek out her name. She sucks it between her lips then, lashing her tongue over the exposed head of your clitoris until your inner thighs are positively vibrating around her head and she feels you shiver and release a gush of fluid as you orgasm. She still doesn’t let up, wringing a second from you quickly when she presses first one and then two of her thick, calloused fingers into the tight gripping hole of your womanhood. She releases your hands after your second orgasm, and lets you push her head feebly out of the way with shaking hands. She kneels between your legs then, two of her fingers still buried inside of you as they gently massage, not too much stimulation but enough to keep you on edge. You groan out her name again, hoarse from the screaming pleasure she’d already given you. “Just one more love, you can give me one more yeah? My beautiful little wife.”
She straddles your hips then, pulling her fingers from you with a lewd squelch, and aligns her mound over your own. She uses two fingers to spread her labia, and you can make out a thick, protruding clitoris, much bigger than your own. She presses it between your own lips, groaning at the contact even as you let out a breathless moan at the heat and feel of her. She grips your legs, positioning you as she likes before she begins grinding and thrusting, using her clitoris to rub and stimulate your own. You grip at her strong forearms, blunt little nails digging into warm, firm skin. You’re lost in the feel of her, the rasp of her pubic hair, her muscular thighs and arms keeping you caged in.
Your orgasm sweeps over you quickly and unexpectedly. No buildup, just an intense rush of heat so strong you can feel your vision going black at the edges. “I’m close, honey, gonna mark you as mine.” Her growl is guttural, and with a strangled low roar she finds her own release, her own rush of almost boiling hot pleasure making itself known between you. She collapses over you, although she is careful not to lean all of her weight on you as she cages you in once again between strong arms. “I love you, my wife, my everything. You are my home, wherever we go, I’ll always have you with me.” Her kiss is tender, still slightly flavored with your own pleasure, and the smile she gives you when she pulls back is full of promise for the future. She turns over, pulling you with her, and she lulls you back to sleep in her arms, against her chest, promising you more pleasure when you wake.
Female stoner introvert nerd finds a wardrobe with a poisonous spirit attached. Wait, did I say poisonous? I meant passionate.
I have this marked as NB because there are no pronouns used to refer to the reader and the nickname from your partner is gender neutral. I definitely reference female sex organs though wink wink nudge nudge.
------
You’re sitting on your couch, furiously trying to mash through the desperation move of a boss fight. You have a joint pinched in your lips, and just as you’re approaching the last phase of this DM you’re startled by a knock on the door. “Ah fuck! Shit…” The joint falls from your lips onto the back of your hand, which makes you jerk your hand away from the controller. This means you fall out of your dodge roll sequence, take a spear directly up the ass, and die. Again. Back to the fucking unskippable cutscene - what kind of fucking sadist makes these unskippable in this, the year 20xx.
“Lysanderoth! You were behind this!” The cutscene starts and you groan a little, taking another hit before you go answer the door. You’re greeted by a slightly sheepish looking dryad holding a green tote. A frantic, wide-eyed glance back tells you that yes, it is in fact already 5PM, and your delivery is right on time, you’re the one who’s completely lost the plot today.
“Shit, Medi, I totally lost track of time.” The dryad’s barklike face splits into a smile, a rough chuckle lets you know they don’t mind. “Come on in, I won’t keep you long.”
“No worries, it shouldn’t take more than a minute.” Medi had been delivering to you since you moved to this neighborhood. A mulberry dryad, he and some of his kin had started a dispensary and delivery service once pot was legalized. As soon as he steps over the threshold of your apartment though, he stills, all of his leaves shuddering at once as if in a breeze. “Hey, uh, did you...did you get anything new since last week? Place looks...nice.” The delivery is stilted, but considering how awkward Medi usually is you aren’t too worried.
“Yeah, actually. Just yesterday, I picked up a new wardrobe. It was in the window of that little antique shop on Carroll Street, I pass it on the way home from work most days. Anyway, this was in the window and something told me I needed to go in and take a look at it. You know there’s only one closet in this place for hanging clothes, I griped at you about it enough when you started pestering me about having my stuff lying all over the place. Anyway, isn’t it gorgeous?”
It is gorgeous, after all. Beautiful dark wood, intricately hand carved in a motif of pomegranates and lilies stained a deep rich red-brown. The woman running the shop seemed happy enough to have it off her hands that she threw in free delivery and you were officially sold. It made you feel strangely elegant this morning, when you got to throw open the wardrobe doors and select your outfit for the day like you were in some kind of regency novel (okay, so the sweats and ratty old shirt didn’t exactly but the action with the wardrobe itself did). It made you giggle, the wardrobe made you happy.
“Yeah...sure uh, sure is.” He seems to be giving it a wary look and you wonder briefly if maybe it’s made out of the same wood as his tree? Is that offensive? You bought it used! “Mahogany is good stuff, durable.” So, that takes that out of the running. Maybe the whole thing is just weird to him? You don’t get the chance to dwell on it though, distracted as you are by the spread of offerings he’s set out from his little bag of tricks.
He’s in and out in about five minutes, the normal delivery time, and for a while you forget his weird behavior at the wardrobe letting yourself get engrossed in the boss fight. When you finally get through it, only for Lysanderoth to not actually be dead and come back to kill Archibald?! No thank you. Time to turn this off for the night.
You settle into your bed, your studio apartment looking somehow huge and imposing in the darkness. Just enough ambient light to cast everything into relief, shadows creeping along the walls and ceiling. The creaks you hear you write off as the building settling. Right at the edge of sleep though, just as you tumble down into the abyss of unconsciousness, you feel a hand stroke through your hair.
Waking the next morning to your blaring alarm you don’t even remember the odd caress, rolling yourself out of bed and dressing just enough to wander out to the donut place around the corner. Coffee and pastries purchased, you wander back home and boot up your computer to get to work. Working from home was a blessing and a curse in equal measure. The pro of setting your own schedule was also a con, knowing that keeping some sort of routine was important. Still, having gotten your final feedback in regards to your latest manuscript you were just on the precipice of a good break, which sometimes makes working harder conversely.
You manage to fall into a sort of work trance, a habit your parents used to scold you for when you were in high school. You finally raise your head when you’ve blasted through the first half of the manuscript, only rising because your throat was begging for water and the large glass beside you had been drained of its dregs ages ago. The blackout curtains you forgot to pull back kept the studio in low light, only the glow of your laptop and desk lamp lighting the full space.
As you walk over to the kitchen tap you vaguely notice the cracked door of the wardrobe. You could have sworn you closed it this morning when you left, but considering how hazy you were at the hour it’s entirely possible you forgot. You reach out with a foot on the way past and nudge it shut, filling your glass from the tap and taking a few large mouthfuls before filling it to the brim and walking back towards the desk.
The wardrobe door is cracked open again. Curious you set down your water on the coffee table, opening the door fully and pawing through your clothes to find exactly what you expected - nothing. “Guess I better check the hinge later.” You make a mental note of it, and close the wardrobe door anyway before taking your glass and heading back to your desk. You work through the rest of the day, and it’s well past nightfall by the time you detach from your computer, ready to embrace at least the next few days of relaxation. You don’t worry when the wardrobe door is cracked again as you shut off your desk lamp and pass to the couch.
In celebration of finishing you roll up a joint of some rather expensive top-shelf stuff you’d bought from Medi. It was slightly magically infused, most humans never even had the opportunity to try it, but as a loyal and regular customer, who had been apparently surprisingly kind to the dryads and their nonhuman clientele, you were eventually afforded access to the crop they grew for those who couldn’t process normal marijuana. You’d describe the high as particularly fuzzy, it made all of your limbs feel like static in a way you thoroughly enjoyed. The sensation was relaxing, and it extended your perception of the world in a way that was particularly hard to describe. If pressed you’d say it was like looking at an “I Spy” book and picking out all of the objects immediately and without effort. Things just...jump out at you in a way that’s sort of unavoidable. It’s kind of no wonder they want to keep this stuff in their inner circle, considering what humans could do with this if they managed to figure out how it ticks. The human desire to weaponize everything was dangerous after all.
Shunting yourself off of that track in your train of thought, you notice some odd ripples around the wardrobe, but they’re soothing somehow. Maybe that’s why the wardrobe called out to you? Some sort of residual energy that vibed with yours. You move on. This stuff always makes gaming interesting, you become considerably better at some genres (the only reason you have any sort of competitive rank in fighting games is because of this weed strain) and hilariously inept at others (the timing of platformers completely escapes you at this point, and you find everything on the sidelines of racing games distracting).
Katamari seems like a good way to waste an evening, and after ordering some takeout you settle in for a good few hours rolling up stars for the inept-as-ever king of the cosmos. You fall asleep on the couch, a few roaches of regular weed littering your ashtray along with the few hits you’d pull from your magical stash.
It’s pitch black when you wake up. You aren’t sure what wakes you, but the room is eerie in the muted black glow of the TV. There’s a sort of shape shifting out of the corner of your eye. You turn to find it, but it always seems to stay on the periphery of your vision. Blinking hard you sit up, rubbing the heels of your hands into your eye sockets before looking up again. Nope, still there. Maybe some lingering effect from the weed? You shrug it off. You’re sure if someone was watching this in a movie theater they’d yell at you like the usual horror protagonist. At ground level though, in real life in your home? It’s probably fine.
You stumble up from the couch and dig the remote out from between cushions, shutting off the TV and walking the well worn path to your bed. The shiver that comes from you as you pass through a particularly chilly spot sends a spike of heat to your gut at the same time. You whine a little, too tired to do anything about it, and collapse into bed. Becoming a blanket burrito was one of your favorite rituals, and as you curl up in your little roll you feel comforted and safe. On the edge of sleep again you feel a hand ghosting through your hair, and you think a pair of yellow eyes somewhere on the periphery of your vision. You can’t focus on them though, and you fall into sleep again without protest.
Waking the next morning, thankfully alarmless, your only memory of the figure last night is vague and fleeting. “I mean sleep paralysis is a thing” you mumble to yourself as you free one arm to fish for your cell phone on your bedside table. Flicking on the screen you squint and groan at the brightness, your apartment almost pitch black because of your curtains. You don’t think much of the loud thump and low hiss almost perfectly timed with the device turning on, the sound similar enough to your upstairs neighbor’s cat on days they really didn’t want to go to the vet. You tap out a few responses to your friends, having blown off the entirety of the world last night to relax on your couch, and start thinking about breakfast and the barren fridge waiting for you. “Guess I need groceries…”
The low light of your bedside lamp is less garish than that of your cell phone but still makes you squint a little when you turn it on. You make yourself just presentable enough to go out to the store, writing off the caress you feel against your wrist when you reach into the wardrobe as clothes shifting against one another.
Now, if you were in fact in a movie, here’s where the narrative would split. You head off to the grocery store, your apartment mostly dark save for the bedside lamp dimly illuminating that little piece of space. The wardrobe door is silent as it cracks open and from the dark interior an opaque dark grey mist begins to coalesce on the floor. To call the shape vague would be an understatement; more of an undulating, roiling mass than anything definable. It coils along the floor, skirting the edges of the light and pooling itself into your bed beneath the duvet where it smells most like you. The creature and the darkness are one and the same, and it likes the warmth of you, of your essence. You make them feel calm, something they haven’t felt in what seems like eons.
When you walk back in, laden with your necessities and everything you need to make pancakes, everything is as you left it other than the cracked open door of the wardrobe. You ignore it in favor of switching on your floor lamp and heading to your little kitchenette. The day is spent doing blissful nothing. Pancakes are made and eaten along with some fruit, you catch up on the show you’d been meaning to watch but had fallen to the back burner with work, play some more video games, smoke some more weed. All in all a very good first day of your planned week off.
When you slip into your bed that night, curling back up in your duvet like a little sushi roll, you think to yourself that your sheets feel colder than usual. You enjoy the sensation of cool sheets against warm skin, so it doesn’t bother you too much, but it definitely sticks out a little bit. Maybe the building had finally cleaned out the HVAC system so the central cooling was working better, and you tell yourself to check the temperature you have the thermostat set to in the morning.
Your dreams are vivid. More so than usual. You dream of paper white skin, of talon-tipped fingers that looked like they had been dipped in ink. Ruby red lips, searing yellow eyes, the flash of white teeth all sharp as glass. Someone moans your name against your ear, the soft press of breasts against your back, sharp talons pluck at your nipple through the thin fabric of your shirt. You feel burning hot when you wake, and without a second thought you kick yourself free of the duvet and shuck your pants down, your shirt is pressed above your breasts and you begin the slow exploration of your body. Your mind tries to grasp at the dream, bringing yourself to completion at the shattered imagery you can pull together from your mind’s eye. You have the distinct feeling of being watched, although you chalk it up to the vivid dream and your desire to have someone there with you. You put on a show for your imagined lover as you work yourself over, keeping quiet enough for your neighbors but exaggerating every expression and drawing out every caress. The satisfaction of your orgasm leaves you lying boneless on your mattress for a few minutes, panting and slightly sweaty. Rolling off of your mattress you think your apartment looks dimmer somehow, but perception is a funny thing, as is light refraction, so you don’t really question it too much.
Now is probably a good time to mention that the sconce lighting in your bathroom had died ages ago. Your building had sent someone in to fix it, but the problem turned out to be so big that the building needed to rip that entire line of electric out starting from the ground up. Luckily they caught the problem before there was a fire, but it still meant you had to rely on candles to light your way in the bathroom. It did make the experience feel more sensual and intimate, but on some days that made it lonelier than ever to lie soaking in the bath or stand underneath the hot running showerhead. With a gusty sigh you use your lighter to strategically light a few candles around the room, outside of the bath. When you pull the curtain shut around you the light from the candles becomes a muted orange glow just outside the fabric.
The darkness in the shower feels alive somehow, the rising steam from the water makes you feel like some exotic goddess stepping out of a hot spring. As you caress over your body you think you feel a ghostly hand just following your touch. The shudder that follows the length of your spine has gooseflesh break out over your arms and pebbles your nipples. Before you can process the feeling a new one takes hold. Something is behind you, you can feel the slow drag of some kind of nebulous solid as it coalesces up the back of your legs, along the roundness of your ass and the curve of your lower back, as it starts to rise up your torso the feeling creeps forward and almost envelops you. Along your ribs and over your breasts, cupping them lightly until they’re encased entirely in this hot mist. Up over your chest and throat, caressing your jaw and lips. You can still breathe, and move, but it’s almost like you’re wearing a suit made of a trillion tiny feathers, every inch where this stuff was in contact with your skin felt like it was being caressed continuously without rest. The wanton moan you let out elicits a breathy, feminine chuckle by your ear.
The form behind you seems to gain some solidity, what had been a solid mist pressed against the back of your legs becomes a pair of legs itself, and where once had been a solid plane of this stuff there was slowly a lithe, familiar figure. When you glance down you see the same hands from your dream caressing your breasts, the feeling of her skin no less intoxicating than that of the mist but twice as hot. There’s a purr of your name as a pair of lips caresses along the side of your jaw and sharp teeth nip at the shell of your ear. Without preamble one of her hands detaches itself from your breast to push down your stomach and between your thighs, cupping your mound and just teasing a single finger between your lips to tease the head of your clit. “Oh God.”
The growl against the side of your head should scare you, but it just garners your partner a submissive whimper and rush of slick heat to your core. “No. That name doesn’t get spoken here, lamb. If you’re going to call out for anyone you call out for me.” She emphasizes her last word with a harsh squeeze of your mound, those sharp talons just pinching into the sensitive, thin skin that separates your lips from the swell of your ass. You cry out ‘ah, fuck’, head lolling back onto a slender shoulder, your hands clenched and forgotten in the symphony of sensations she’s writing onto your body. She chuckles darkly. “Closer, lamb. Better. But I believe you were looking for Lilith.” When you whimper her name back at her she almost purrs in delight, nibbling at your earlobe before licking hotly into your ear. “Oh, lamb, you’re just asking for it aren’t you? Precious lost thing, don’t worry.”
You aren’t sure what you’re expecting, but it certainly isn’t for her hand and forearm to turn back into that ethereal mist. It seems to surround you, caressing every inch of your labia and clit, pushing itself between your clit itself and the skin of your clitoral hood making you scream her name in pleasure as that buzzing sensation settled in. Your hands reach up then, blindly grabbing back at her and threading in her hair, making her laugh and press closer against you. “That’s it lamb, give yourself to me.” That mist begins to push itself into your pussy, sinking in slowly and filling every crevice inside of you, somehow expanding itself until you were pleasantly full, and not a single nerve ending was left untouched. You can only pant uselessly at the endless stimulation to every piece of you, and your fingers twitch in her hair as your jaw hangs open. You’ve lost motor function, you aren’t even entirely sure how long it’s been that she’s had that ethereal mist wrecking you from the inside out, but you do know that you shouldn’t even be standing considering you can’t feel your legs, but Lilith is keeping you right where she wants you somehow. You can’t question it, you can’t question anything, the only thing you can think of is Lilith.
“I can feel you getting close, little lamb.” Her honeyed voice is lower, darker, and it makes your walls flutter around her magic. “Will you be good for me?” You try to nod your head, but all you can really manage is a manic sort of twitch and a choked sobbing whimper of pleasure. You’re sure the wrecked look on your face is worthy of any ahegao compilation, and as you scream Lilith’s name in release, sagging against her and whiting out with pleasure, you faintly hear her purr your name back at you but you’re lost to sleep shortly thereafter.
You wake in bed, groggy and aroused. “Oh fuck, that dream.” You whimper a little, somehow still feeling the sting of what you were sure were phantom claws. You’re nude, although it wouldn’t be the first time you stripped off tiredly in your sleep if you got too warm. You begin caressing your breasts and down your stomach until you’re interrupted by a sultry voice from just beside your head.
“I was trying to give you a rest, lamb, but if you’re so eager to begin anew, I cannot deny you anything, my lost little wanderer.”
My blog rules and my Discord rules are the same: please be over 18 because my content is smutty af, and Bill and Ted rules - Be Excellent To Each Other
Although apparently the link only shows up if you have my site off your dash? Which is dumb? Why did I pick that layout? Anyway, have a Masterlist link post!
Really sorry to hear about the rift with your former friends ;__;
Hey thank you! Sometimes life throws absolute hot diarrhea garbage at you and says “deal with it” and you have to figure out how to power wash yourself off and move forward.
hey im wishing so much love and support your way. losing a friend group is such an intense loss, but i hope the hole they leave is filled by better, brighter people who deserve you.
Thank you so much anon <3 I’m doing okay! I’m getting back out into the world and trying to live life. I’m trying to find a new D&D group and everything!
I return! I’m so sorry for my hiatus. I’ve lost my entire friend group due to one of my friends thinking throwing around slurs was cool (we’ve been friends for 10 years and suddenly she thinks calling people f****t is chill), and my not being cool with it got me phased out because it was less work.
Anyway, enough with my garbage! Here’s part 2, finally, of the werewolf story!
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It was only a week between finally meeting Kara in her real form and the two of you being piled into your old station wagon stuffed with the things from your house you wanted to bring with you - and a few things Kara herself wanted that you had been happy to leave back. Kara, for her part, hadn’t let you do an ounce of heavy lifting. Even one-armed she was able to load everything you wanted into the car barely breaking a sweat, she was happy to let you direct her and give her cold drinks and kisses in return for the help.
Once you had broken that barrier with her, and accepted her as your true mate, she had become incredibly clingy and affectionate. As touch starved as she would be after an upbringing like hers, you weren’t surprised by her desire to hold and be held. Besides, it isn’t like you were complaining! A cuddly person by nature, you were happy to have someone who wanted to cuddle and be close to you all the time.
Even now in the car she was thankful to be able to reach over to console and rest her large, clawed hand on your thigh as you drove. The drive itself wasn’t too long, only a few hours, and the two of you were pulling up to a small cabin off a dirt road. You had passed a few that looked similar on the way up here, but Kara’s seemed to be set a bit further back from the road itself and appeared more secluded. There were some curious faces you noticed along the drive as well, but when they saw Kara in the passenger seat they tended to break out into wide smiles before heading back into their respective abodes.
As soon as the car is in park and the engine is off, Kara hauls herself out of it and around to your door before you can even get your seatbelt undone. The driver side door is wrenched open and you’re hauled out and over her shoulder in a one-armed fireman’s carry. You don’t protest, instead giggling. Both of you too excited for this moment to wait any longer. Unpacking can come later, besides from what she’s told you, you know that your things are perfectly safe out in your car and no one should come to bother the two of you for at least a few days. New mates are precious and private things, after all.
The cabin, at least from your vantage point upside-down and over her shoulder, is small but cozy. The kitchen and living room are one big open space with a counter dividing them, you don’t get to examine much though as she rushes through the living room and into her bedroom. It’s similarly huge, likely comprising the other half of the house, although a decently sized portion of it has been blocked off for what you’re guessing is a bathroom. The glance you get of the room shows it to be pretty spartan. Nothing really to show that someone lives here, rather than just exists.
You can’t contemplate on any of this for too long though. You’re tossed on the bed, giggling again as you bounce slightly on the unbelievably comfortable mattress. Kara is on you in the next moment. Her breath comes in hot pants from her scarred muzzle, staring down at you with her one eye, the blue of her iris positively electric in the low light with her searing gaze. Her one clawed hand tears your shirt from you without preamble, and you can’t even really mourn the thing (or the sports bra that quickly follows) when her scalding rough tongue laps over your nipple for the first time. Your fingers thread through the pitch black scruff of her neck, and she growls against you as you pull her closer rather than push her away.
“Oh ‘lil rabbit, the things ‘m gonna do to ya.” Her voice is a low rumble, and she parts her maw just enough to pinch the bud of your nipple between her fangs. She’s pleased when you keen out her name and squirm beneath her, chuckling darkly and tugging on your nipple before switching breasts to give the other similar treatment. “So sensitive. C’mon rabbit, gimme all those cute noises.” Her mouth opens further to take your full breast into her jaw, biting down just enough to leave a ring of teeth marks at the base, making you whimper. “Gonna mark you up real nice, rabbit, gonna look so good all covered in ‘em, gonna look like yer mine.” She gives a harsh nip to your collar bone at that, and snaps her jaws with a whine when your answer is to bare your neck further up at her submissively. Her long, flexible tongue licks a stripe up your neck, pressing into your ear for a moment before her teeth nip at your earlobe. “Playin’ with fire, rabbit.”
Her hot breath on your ear as she growls out her promise has your blood feeling like lava. The pool of arousal in your belly makes you squirm underneath her, searching for any amount of friction she’d be willing to give you. Her one hand grips your hip, claws digging into soft flesh as she stares down at you, the thin ring of her iris almost totally eclipsed by her blown pupil. “I don’t wanna play with fire…” the sensual whine of your voice is almost unrecognizable to you “I wanna play with you.” You’re pouting up at her, and you barely have time to process what you’ve said before she presses her muzzle to your lips and slips her tongue into your mouth. The whimper you give provokes an answering growl, and you’re so busy wrestling with your tongue you manage to ignore the migration of her hand until those claws dig into your shorts and your panties, ripping them both from you and leaving you completely bare beneath her.
“Fuck, rabbit, you smell so fuckin’ good. You’re so fuckin’ cute, and all mine. My mate. Gonna make sure to take real good care’a ya, my good girl.” The way you shudder when she calls you that makes her laugh huskily, drawing your thigh over her shoulder with her good arm. She lifts your hips from the bed, leaving your other leg splayed out against the sheets. “You are, rabbit, yer such a good girl fer me. The best, my mate, and I’ll show ya how much that means ta me, rabbit. You ready to be mine, only mine?”
“I already was.” Your answer has her growl up the length of your body, nipping harshly at the inside of your thigh to leave another mark on your skin. Her tongue licks up to the seam of your inner thigh, just lapping at your vulva covered in your juices. She moans low in her throat at the taste.
“Damn right ya were, rabbit. Jes like I was yours.” At that she dives fully into you, lapping and nuzzling at you like a woman starved. Her cold nose nudges against the hot bud of your clit and you almost scream at the sensation. Then her tongue pushes into you. That slippery, dextrous appendage seems to lick all the way into the back of you, exploring every single nook and cranny of your inner walls to find out what makes you scream and go limp with pleasure.
Kara takes full advantage of having you spread out before her like this, submissive and pliant. Her claws are digging into the soft flesh of your thigh as she holds you up against her, just enough pain to keep you grounded. She’s snarling into your pussy as she works you over masterfully, taking her time and keeping you poised on the edge of orgasm. “Please, Kara, please I need to cum!” You’re whimpering and begging her, your hands tangled in the fur behind her ears as you try to pull her closer into you. She just hums, the vibration traveling up her tongue just enough to make you sob with need. “Please, I’m so close, I want, I need it.” She just huffs out hot air across your clit, making her movements even more languid. Your walls are fluttering around her tongue, you’re so close to release but she’s denying you your pleasure. Somewhere in the back of your mind you know this is about proving her control over you, something about the claiming, but here and now you just think she’s cruel.
You aren’t sure how much time passes with her keeping you on the precipice of orgasm. You know she’s brought you right to the brink five times and pulled back with each, but it could have been minutes or hours between for all you knew. Your attention was entirely focused on the werewolf between your thighs, that hungry blue eye locked on your face every time you could find the energy to open your own eyes and look down at her pleading. When she pulls away entirely licking her chops and staring down at you from above you actually sob, tears pooling at the corner of your eyes. Kara just chuckles down at you, proud of her handiwork. There are claw marks over your thigh and hip, and teeth marks littering your neck and breasts, you’re a pile of overstimulated mush and she’s never been more proud of herself. “Don’t’cha worry, rabbit, ‘m gonna take real good care of you, but I’m the alpha, baby, you don’t get to tell me when you cum.”
You can’t do anything but watch as she lifts your unmarred leg, licking the arch of your foot and between each toe before continuing up the calf. She bites the back of your calf, just enough to draw a little trickle of blood to lap up, humming at your taste. Her tongue on the back of your knee tickles, making you squirm a little and giggle. Then she rakes her claws up the inside of your thigh, making you wail out in pleasure at the welts they leave behind. “Please, Kara, alpha, please.” The way she growls when you call her alpha tells you you’ve done the right thing.
“Thas it, rabbit, alpha’s gotcha.” Her mouth is on you again, and it only takes a moment of her expert attention before your clinging to her and wailing through your first orgasm. She draws it out with the careful probing of her tongue inside you, eye closed in concentration as you come undone against her. You’re panting and coming down from your orgasm when you’re suddenly shifted again. Kara is straddling your thighs, hauling you up one armed again and kneeling down herself to press your vulva to hers. The soft downy fur of her lips parts with the pressure she exerts, and you can feel the hard nub of her clit as it scrapes against your own wet tunnel and hard bud. It’s big enough that this stimulation seems plenty for her, and she growls for you to look at her when she pants that she’s close. You can’t look away as she comes undone above you, her hips moving jerkily as she rides out her own orgasm against you.
She’s panting happily and falls forward, twisting in just the right way that she winds up beneath you on her bed, your body collapsed and curled against her. “Fuck, Kara, that was...wow.” She chuckles, petting your back and nuzzling the top of your head.
“Sure was, rabbit, an’ that was only the first time. We got our whole lives together to perfect it.” Your needy whimper makes her laugh, threading her fingers through your hair and pulling you protectively into her chest. “Not yet, baby, gotta take care’a you first. Nap, then we’ll take a bath and getcha all cleaned up so I can wreck ya again.”
Come hang out! You’ll get to talk with me and get some updates on when and what I’ll be posting! I’ve also included a pitch room if you’d like to send me story ideas :)
Hey, so, basically this was in my head and I had it get it out. When I made it to page six with no end in sight, but at a good stopping point for now, I wanted to get out a post. So I guess this is going to be a two-parter!
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Your walk home from work always consisted of a trek through a dark alley between the back of two restaurants. Most people were scared of the thought of walking down such a street at that hour of the night, but you knew that the presence of security cameras behind the two establishments meant that no one was dumb enough to stake out there in hopes of catching someone unawares. You so rarely encountered anyone or anything else in that stretch of your walk - save for the occasional worker coming out the backdoor of their place of work with the trash - that when you began seeing the same battered looking dog regarding you warily night after night you started bringing it treats.
The first time you stopped it was because you were carrying home some leftovers from a work lunch, your team had gone to a steakhouse and you couldn’t finish your strip steak, so you took it home to maybe have for dinner or over a salad for lunch tomorrow. The thought went through your mind, though, as you approached the alley to maybe offer the meat to the sweet, sad looking pup. Well, pup was probably the wrong term, but aren’t all dogs puppies really? The creature was huge, you’d have guessed nearly waist height while standing on all fours, and a pure midnight black with one startlingly clear crystal blue eye. They’d always eye you warily as you walked through the alley, although they never once raised a hackle or a growl your way even when you’d coo hello on your way past.
Before you can stop yourself you pull the little cardboard takeout box of steak out of your bag and pop open the lid, revealing half of a steak sliced into strips laid out along with some of those roasted potatoes. You double checked to make sure nothing had any garlic (bad for a pupper’s stomach) and after being sure this was all safe for the big dog you walked into the alley intent on offering it to them.
The huge canine was curled up in a ball where they usually were, deep in the shadows of a little alcove set into the building where their fire hookup was. “Hey gorgeous.” You croon down at the dog, but instead of continuing your walk, for the first time ever you squat lightly in front of the big creature and give it a tentative, closed mouth smile. “My eyes were bigger than my stomach at lunch I guess, and I think you’d enjoy this more than I would tonight.” You set the cardboard takeout box down, open, on the ground and shuffle it towards the dog, who meanwhile had perked up and began regarding you with a sort of aloof wariness. You just sit there, looking happily and quietly at the dog as it sniffed first at the cardboard box and then at its contents before picking up a piece of steak and snapping it into their mouth with a satisfied rumble. Content that the dog is happy and eating you stand and coo out a goodbye to the beautiful creature who doesn’t even look twice at you as you walk back home. You’re maybe a little sad that you won’t have your leftovers tonight, but you happily pop in some of your frozen lasagna and can’t find it in you anywhere to regret feeding that dog.
You had more than enough padding in your income, considering you’re single and don’t really do a whole lot other than work and hang out at home watching Netflix and partaking in your hobbies, that you didn’t think twice about starting to bring a little something for the dog every day. Maybe you’d earn its trust, and you could bring them home! And be friends! You’d wanted a dog for a while, a furry cuddler who would want to hang out half on your lap while you pet its fluffy ears, but also a dog who would help make sure you get out of the house a few times a day and actually walk, do something. The next day you stop in to the diner around the corner from your office to get a side of bacon, presenting it to the confused but happy dog with another smile. You sit a little longer, talking lightly about your day and how excited you were to see them that evening. “You know, seeing you is starting to be the best part of my day. So I thought maybe I’d bring you some treats to let you know I appreciate it.” You give another sweet, closed lip smile to the dog before standing and continuing on home. You really, really want to pet the dog. Their ears looked so soft! But you didn’t want to invade their personal space, especially as a stray. You didn’t want to get your hand bitten off, of course, but you also wanted to make sure that the dog continued to trust you.
You brought something every day after work, five days a week. The dog still didn’t let you touch them, but you started to notice them perking up before you came into the alley, and their tail had even started to thump a little against the ground when they sighted you. You were three months into this arrangement when you were fired. You knew why, you had denied the advances of a superior and they began making your life a living hell at work, writing you up over every infraction. You were consulting with a lawyer but that didn’t stop it from scaring you. You had to get your resume in order now and start a job search, could you use this place as a reference? Probably not, well shit. You’re empty handed today, and this time instead of squatting you kneel down heavily on the pavement in front of the dog. You give them a sad smile. “Sorry sweetheart, I’m empty handed today. I know, I’m disappointing you, I’m sorry. I got fired today, so money’s gonna be a little tight, and I don’t think I’m going to have an excuse to walk through this neighborhood anymore.”
You’re crying now, fat tears running down your cheeks, and before you can lift a hand to wipe them away the dog licks one off of your cheek and whines at you. “I’m gonna miss you sweetheart, I wish you’d come with me.” With a shaking hand you hesitantly stroke up the dog’s neck and over the top of their head. They let out a chuff that sounds like a resigned sigh before licking over your cheek again and pressing their cold nose into your neck. It makes you giggle and scratch behind their ears. When you eventually stand after calming down the dog also stands up. It’s missing one foreleg, something you never noticed, although it doesn’t seem to impede their movement in the least. You were right to think they were huge too, their back reaching up to the bottom of your rib cage. You aren’t sure what to expect, you’re hoping they’ll follow you home you guess, but instead of doing that they just stand there watching you as you walk away. You pause at the end of the alley and glance back, waiting a beat to see if they’ll join you. When they don’t you deflate a little but continue your walk back to your little one story house.
It’s in a neighborhood that isn’t great, but you’re quiet and keep to yourself and keep your head down. People leave you alone, you don’t get in anyone’s business, and everyone’s happy. You have a little yard surrounded by a short brick fence with an old wrought iron gate. The gate had been in terrible condition when you bought the house, but a little elbow grease and some fresh paint had it looking good as new. The whole house was a little dingy looking, but homey and put together. The tiny front yard was full to bursting with flowers and plants, other than a little concrete path from the road to the front door. The inside is cozy, thrifted furniture and handmade decorations. You may not be rich, but you live quite happily within your means with enough leftover for some of your wants.
You take the weekend to wallow. You drink wine and eat ice cream and cry, binge watching shows and lying on the couch. When you wake up on Monday though you feel a little better if slightly hungover, and you spend the day going over your resume and figuring out how to go about your job search. When evening comes you’re interrupted by a sound out your back door that’s unfamiliar to you. It’s almost like a knock, but not quite, and it’s followed by a thud and whine.
The being standing at your backdoor, under the flickering warm light above the entryway, is huge. Towering over you is a pitch black void of light standing on two powerful hind legs, holding a man in a ski mask up by his throat while he hangs limply from its clawed grip. The creature is missing an arm and one of its eyes, and after a beat you recognize that whatever this thing is...it’s also the dog from behind the restaurant. You faint.
When you wake up you’re back on your couch, and as you blink up at the ceiling you recall your weird dream from earlier where the dog from the restaurant alley was standing outside your house. But it wasn’t the dog, it was a werewolf. Or it looked like a werewolf. You chuckle to yourself before turning onto your side and promptly startling off the couch at the sight in front of you.
The creature from what you were sure is a dream is sitting back on its haunches like a large dog, staring at you from its one intelligent blue eye. It’s impossibly big, even sitting you think their head would reach the middle of your chest. “Holy shit!” You pop up from behind your coffee table to see the big creature cowering slightly and looking at you with their ears pinned back.
“Didn’t mean to scare you.” The rough voice of the creature hits your ears and you’re startled back into silent contemplation. Okay, so, it can talk. “Figured since you took care’a me, I’d keep watch over ya. Found some guy sniffin’ ‘round your place so I took care of ‘im.”
“Thank you.” Your reply is a little quiet, and you’re staring slack-jawed at a creature that really, truly isn’t supposed to exist. They huff out something that sounds like a laugh, although there’s a sort of self deprecating edge to it that you don’t like.
“Yeah, this’s why I didn’t take ‘ya up on yer offer.” They grimace, frowning as best as they can with their muzzle and sinking into themselves to make themselves smaller. Immediately you try to perk up and break out of whatever your trance is.
“No, no! Please, don’t leave, I’m just surprised. I didn’t think...I mean, I thought you were just a big...dog? Obviously you’re not! But I mean, you can’t blame me for being surprised can you? Up until a few minutes ago werewolves were a fictional concept for me.” They look a little sheepish at that, but settle down onto the rug in your living room and look at you curiously.
“Keep fergettin’ humans ain’t connected with the super-nat’ral world no more really.” They pin you with that icy blue gaze. “You can feel our connection though, can’tcha?” Your heart is racing, thrumming in your throat as you listen to the implication in that voice. It’s true you’d felt drawn to that dog, but your heart always broke for poor strays out in the world. You didn’t think it was any different to the feeling you’d get for any dog you saw regularly enough to get to know. But sitting in front of you in this form there’s something about the pull that’s a little bit deeper, more intense. “Can hear yer heart racing, pretty ‘lil rabbit. Y’know, yer the reason I’m in this town in’the first place.” You give a confused look and they chuckle raspily. “S’the connection, ‘lil rabbit, we know to look for it when we start to feel it. Was jes’ passin’ through to get back ta my pack, but I couldn’t leave without my mate.”
“M-Mate?” You can only ask that question in a small, soft voice as they chuckle at you again, languidly flowing up and stalking around the coffee table to tower over you from where you’re still sitting on the floor. Their cold nose on your pulse point makes you shriek, but you bare your neck up rather submissively instead of pull away.
“I was serprised too ‘lil rabbit, human mates’re rare shit. ‘Specially for animals like me.” They inhale deeply at your neck before licking up the column of your throat to your jaw. “‘M a lucky woman, my ‘lil mate is cute as shit, ‘n you smell so fucking good.” Your answering whimper prompts another low growl from her chest, and her jaw locks around your throat just enough to leave the imprint of her teeth on your neck. When she sits back on her haunches and towers over you again her eye is sparking heat as she gazes at you. “Was tryin’ ta figger out how ‘ta meetcha all natural like, but then ya stopped comin’ round ‘n tonight happened an’ I had’ta protect ya, rabbit, and when ya saw me and ya fainted I panicked.”
Your laugh is loud and powerful, and you startle the werewolf into silence as she word vomits out at you. Before she can look too upset though you lean forward and hug her, resting your head on her chest. Her hand are is more like a human hand than a paw, although each finger is still tipped with harsh claws that make you shiver as they rake through your hair to scratch your scalp pleasantly. You nuzzle your face into the fluffy fur of her chest, pleased to feel the give of small breasts beneath the dark fuzz. Your content sigh has her let out a low rumble, laving her tongue across your ear in an affectionate swipe.
“Well, I think you did just fine. Protected me from a burglar and everything. Thank you for that, by the way.” You smile up at her, cupping her jaw with one hand as you tug her down to your level in order to place a chase human kiss on her snout. She lets out a content little whine that makes you giggle, and settles her big head in your lap so you can card your fingers through her fur around her ears and down the back of her skull. “What’s my mate’s name?”
Her tail thumps wildly against the floor for a moment as she stares up from your lap with her eye wide and sparkling. “Kara, ‘lil rabbit. An’ don’t go ‘round callin’ me yer mate if you aren’t gonna accept the claim, sweets.” Her growl has a low, seductive timbre to it in the end, and you swallow thickly before nodding. “Already in dangerous territory rabbit, betcha didn’t know all’a those times ya fed me was you courtin’ me.” Her smile is appropriately wolfish. “Now how ‘bout your name?” You stumble over introducing yourself, and the way Kara purrs your name back to you makes your insides flip pleasantly.
“If I...I mean, if I were to accept the claim, what would that mean? Remember, I’m a human, I’m kinda ignorant about all of this.” You continue petting over her skull as she settles back into your lap, humming thoughtfully, her one arm moving to encircle you slightly, toying with the hem of your shirt where it lays against the floor at your hip.
“Means yer mine, forever. Kinda like marriage, but no divorce, not like yer gonna wanna leave me anyway rabbit.” She gives you a one-eyed wink that still manages to make you blush. “Means I take care’a ya, keep ya fed, housed, protected, warm, satisfied.” The way she gazes up at you with promise at the last word makes you swallow thickly, trying not to shift your hips at the implication. “Bring ya into my pack, you’d be parta the family. I gotta ‘lil cabin out in the woods, most’ve us do since they mostly spend time in a human form, but it’s a place’a my own. Feels awful lonely without my mate.”
The two of you talk through the night, and fall asleep together in a pile on your living room floor. Her story breaks your heart. She wasn’t born into the pack she’s currently a part of. Her original family couldn’t believe that their daughter had inherited their dominant gene while their son preferred to be much more passive. But her parents took advantage of her need to be accepted and love, and forced her to spend so much time shifted that she gradually forgot how to shift back. Her human form had been lost to her since she was a child, and while her new packmates were working on it - that’s actually the reason she’d been passing through your city in the first place, to visit a physician who was sympathetic to werewolves, and who thought they might be able to help her reclaim her human form and therefore some semblance of normalcy and a place in broader society.
You’re surprisingly comfortable when you wake for someone who slept on the ground, but when you come to full consciousness you to find yourself draped fully over the big fuzzy woman you realize why. You didn’t really sleep on the ground, you slept on a big fluffy cushion in effect. You want to accept the claim. It’s not like you had anything tying you here any longer. Your family wasn’t here, your job was gone, you can lighten up your load, break the lease, and just...go with this. This is the adventure you used to spend nights wishing for, really. Less “knight-in-shining-armor” and more “fuzzy-mercenary-who-would-kill-for-you” but still, someone who said they were destined for you, swept you off your feet and made you feel special, beautiful, perfect just as you are.
“Thinkin’ hard there, rabbit.” You squeak a little and jump as you’re broken out of your thoughts by the rough sleepy voice of Kara. She chuckles at your reaction and then laughs when you pout up at her in return. “Oh no, not that look rabbit, ‘s too cute.” She nuzzles into the crown of your head, still chuckling. Rubbing her scent all over you and yours on her in return.
“Well, if you have to ask, I was thinking about the fact that I want to accept your claim.” That stills the woman beneath you, and you let you a little shriek when she abruptly sits up, taking you with her until you’re sitting astride her lap as she gazes down at you, your face caged in her big hand.
“What did’ja say?” Her voice is hushed and almost reverent, her thumb stroking over your cheek with an impressive amount of gentleness. You smile up at her and place your hand over hers on your cheek, your eyes sparkling happily.
“I said I want to accept your claim, Kara. I feel it too, and the thought of staying in this shitty city without you here with me causes me physical pain. Wherever you go, I want to go with you.” She growls pressing her muzzle to your lips and pushing her tongue into your mouth in one swift motion. She hums at your taste, angling your head to her liking so she can take her time mapping out all of the spots that make you writhe against her. When she pulls away, panting heavily, you can see her one pupil is blown with arousal.
“Not here, rabbit, when I claim ya it’s gonna be in my house on my bed so we can make it all ours.”
Hey I want to let you know that I really love your writing! My favorite by far is the orc MMA fighter (but orc have always been my weakness). I think your very good at keeping a story going and making it feel natural, like there's lulls and rises in action. I think your knoll story was a great example of that. Anyway sorry for the long ask, keep up the great work, your doing amazing 💗
Thank you so much T_T Seriously I’ve always been self conscious about whether or not my writing is too boring or long winded so it’s really nice to hear that you like the way I pace my work. I think world building is important so I generally have a hard time writing plain old PWP
i hope you’re really enjoying your nano! and that its really creatively fulfilling for you :)
Thank you so much!! It’s really interesting to me to write prose, because I write academically for work so I basically spend the majority of my day writing (or playing video games when I’m slagging off). It’s nice to get my creative prose juice flowing!
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