Finally doing one of these so, hi im Bunny, i go by they/them and im 19! i like video games and the horror genre, I post and reblog mostly about my writing, what I'm reading and things that are cozy! this used to be a yearn blog btw! My asks box and DMs are always open im pretty active on here.
please send me pet pics i would love to see them <3
My insta is @/tectonicguillotine if you actually wanna know what's going on with me cause i don't post much about that here <3
The first thing you offer the werewolf is a bath. He doesn't smell bad, but there's something heavy and stale about the foresty scent of his fur that makes you think he'd appreciate the freshness. He agrees, but looks so utterly confused when you direct him to sit in the wooden tub beside the cottage that you can't help but laugh.
"Have you never bathed before?"
"In the river, yes." He settles his forearms on his knees and stares at you.
He's so big he makes your tub look like a bucket. You fetch some water and soap. He shudders when you pour the first pitcher of water over his fur.
"It's warm," he rumbles.
"Well, this is the human way. The river water is far too cold otherwise." You hover with the bar of soap. "May I?"
He grunts, a sound which extends into a purr as you run the soap over his shoulders, placing it to the side so you can work the lather into his thick fur with your hands. You feel a sort of familiarity with him. His being here feels right. Or maybe you've been alone for so long that you'll take whatever company you can get.
"Tell me about yourself," you prompt.
"My name is Azah. I come from an old bloodline in the south. My pack thought themselves to be all-powerful and ruled the land with a fist of iron. I warned them that a day would come when they would find themselves the hunted instead of the hunters. They did not listen."
"So you left?"
"No. As one of the pack warriors, it was my duty to protect the elders, even in their foolish whims. When the hunters came, I stayed and fought until there was nothing left to fight for."
"So that's where you got these scars," you murmur, running your hands over the places where fur no longer grows.
"In the past years, I have roamed the earth, looking for a new home. A place where I may be needed." He leans forward, studying you intently. "You could use me."
"Well..." You clear your throat. "I'm not going to turn you away. You can stay."
He huffs, lounging back in the tub and peering at you with half-lidded eyes as he lets you explore him. You discover his claws extend when you squeeze the base of his fingers, turning his fairly human hand into something dangerous in an instant. His legs and arms are firm with muscle, belly soft with fat. At least he has been able to fend well for himself in the wilderness. You pour a couple more pitchers over him to rinse the soap out, removing the cork stopper in the tub so water drains into the grass.
"What do you eat?" You ask, lifting your hand to his face and pressing a finger to his jaw.
He opens his mouth, letting you get a good look at his teeth and the soft ribbon of his tongue. He snaps playfully, and you yank your hand back, surprise running through your veins as warm as honey.
"My diet is much like that of a human, though I prefer as much meat as I can find," he licks his lips and stands. "You may want to step back."
You do, and he slides a hand down his arms and legs to remove as much excess water as he can. He shakes his tail and droplets of water spray everywhere. You laugh and hand him a towel, which he scruffs carelessly through his fur.
"Sit, my mate. I will build a fire." He ducks into the cottage, which immediately making the place seem smaller.
He starts a fire in record time, blowing on the sparks until there's a merry crackling blaze in the fireplace. It doesn't take him long to dry out before the fire. You make a batch of stew, feeling emotional as you serve two bowls since it's been a long time since you ate with anyone. He eats and even licks the bowl clean afterwards, his eyes glinting gold with the light from the fire. He insists on washing the bowls, and while he does, you hesitantly get ready to sleep.
What now? You wonder as you perch on the edge of the bed.
When Azah returns, he doesn't hesitate to clamber into your bed like it is the most natural thing to do. It's a good thing the bed is of sturdy make and large enough for three people. He crawls up to you and presses his nose to your neck with a sigh of contentment. You tilt your head to give him better access.
"What do I smell like?" You ask.
He hums, his tongue darting out for a taste. "Like flowers that bloom in the light of dawn. The earth is entwined with your scent from your years of turning over her soil. There is a sweetness, too." His teeth scrape your skin in a restrained bite that makes you shudder. His voice drops lower, recognizing your reaction for what it is. "It makes me hunger."
"Oh!" You struggle up into a sitting position and get off the bed with the excuse of blowing out the candles. "We just met."
"Woman, come back here," he rasps. "I am not a desperate barbarian. I can behave."
"I know." You ease back onto the bed, too embarrassed to admit you are afraid of your own lack of control, not his.
