Werewolf Butch x Gender-Neutral Human Reader | Painful Shifts, Reverse Comfort, Quiet Devotion, Gentle Hands, Healing Nesting, & Growl-Purr Love
A/N Little something i made today, i was in debate of werewolf gf or sphinx but how about a wolfie.
You knew it from the second she walked in—if staggered in could even count. Alani usually carried herself like a mountain: silent, towering, unshakable. But tonight, she was trembling.
She tried to hide it, of course. Her spine straight, her shoulders squared in that stubborn, soldier-like way. But she couldn’t quite mask the twitch in her jaw or how she leaned against the wall after closing the door, exhaling like the world was pressing down on her bones.
“Hey,” you said softly. “Bad shift?”
She grunted. A non-answer that meant yes but I don’t want you to worry.
Her skin had already begun to prickle with the early signs—fingernails darkening, eyes glowing faintly, the telltale shimmer of fur threatening to break through. You crossed the room without hesitation and pressed a hand gently to her shoulder.
She leaned into it. Just slightly. But enough.
“Shift’s too close to the last one,” you murmured, “You didn’t let yourself recover.”
Another grunt. More stubborn silence. And then, with a sharp growl, her body convulsed. She fell to her knees, spine arching as the transformation took hold.
It wasn’t beautiful this time. Not smooth. Not gentle. It was pain and pressure and clenched teeth. You stayed near but gave her space. This part always hurt, even if she’d never admit it.
When it was done, Alani collapsed in a heap of limbs and fur, ribs heaving, muzzle tucked against her forearms like she could hide from the world. You knelt beside her, brushing her tangled mane from her eyes.
“You’re okay,” you whispered. “You’re safe.”
She let out a weak huff of air. Her usual strength was gone, melted down to raw ache. Her tail thumped once against the floor, then stilled.
You stood quietly and began pulling the blankets off the bed, layering them onto the floor beside her, padding it like a nest. You grabbed the worn hoodie she loved, the one that still smelled faintly like pine and old campfire, and added it in. She always liked it when the bed wasn’t too neat. She liked burrows. Soft, surrounded, safe.
When you were done, you sat in the middle of the makeshift nest and gently patted your lap.
“C’mon,” you coaxed, voice low and warm. “Just like you do for me.”
It took her a minute, but she shifted—painfully slow—and dragged herself over, finally collapsing half across your lap with a rumble that vibrated the floor. Her muzzle rested against your stomach, and one massive paw curled possessively near your thigh.
You stroked through her thick mane, fingers combing gently through the fur just under her ear.
That’s when it happened—a sound deep and low, somewhere between a growl and a purr. Like thunder softened by velvet. It rumbled through her chest and into you.
“There she is,” you smiled, scratching behind her ears just right.
Another growl-purr. A softer one.
Her eyes fluttered half-shut, body easing into the blankets and your touch like you’d pulled the pain right out of her. One of her ears twitched against your wrist as you kept petting.
You whispered: “Rest, Alani. I've got you now.”
And for once, she didn’t fight it.
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