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Chapter Text

Monster High was a school like no other—infamous, iconic, and proudly haunted. It stood as a sanctuary for creatures of all kinds: stitched-up zombies, bloodthirsty vampires, ghosts who floated through walls, and werecreatures with claws and tempers. Diversity wasn’t just accepted—it was the school’s lifeblood. And while Headmistress Bloodgood dedicated her entire unlife to making sure every student, normie or monster, felt seen and supported… some things still slipped through the cracks.

Clawdeen Wolf sat frozen in one of the bathroom stalls, hunched over, her claws gripping the edges of the toilet seat like it might anchor her down from spiralling. Her heart pounded against her ribs, her ears drooping low with shame.

Nothing—no full moon, no monster puberty guidebook, no conversation with Clawdia—had prepared her for this.

The throbbing discomfort between her legs was unbearable, pulsing like a heartbeat all its own. She didn’t dare look down again, but she could feel it—obnoxiously proud, standing tall like it had something to prove. Her face burned. She didn’t even know where to begin with this kind of panic.

She was used to dressing fiercely, walking with confidence, and being unapologetically herself. But this? This was humiliating. She couldn’t talk to Clawdia about it, and definitely not Clawd. Her family was supportive, sure, but this... this was a level of personal hell she wouldn’t wish on her worst enemy.

Clawdeen tried to breathe through it, willing it away, but the crisp, cold air of the bathroom brushed against her exposed thighs, making everything worse. She squeezed her legs together, muttering, “Just… go away already.”

Her iCoffin buzzed in her hand, a welcome distraction.

Drac : Where R U?

Sparky:U good?

She stared at the screen, her thumbs hovering, unsure of how to reply. No, I’m dying of shame in the third stall from the left didn’t seem like the vibe.

But before she could answer, the bathroom door creaked open. Voices poured in—light, teasing, unmistakable. Giggling. Footsteps.

And then it hit her.

That laugh.

That cunning, smug, sharp-as-claws laugh.

Clawdeen’s heart dropped to her paws.

Toralei.

That smug feline voice carried like a scratch across a record, full of mischief and menace. She could practically hear the smirk in every syllable, the way her boots clicked against the tiles like a countdown.

Clawdeen held her breath, her entire body tense. Of all the monsters to walk in right now… it had to be her

“Did you see Ghostly Gossip?” Toralei purred, casually flipping a claw through the black-striped streaks in her fiery red hair. Her tone was syrupy, but sharp—like a dagger dipped in honey.

Purrsephone let out a matching purr, eyes glued to her phone. “Yeah, that Manny was high on fuckin’ coke or something. He bulldozed the entire set like a psycho linebacker.” She snorted, thumbing through Monstagram, fangs flashing with every laugh.

Meowlody glanced up from her phone, a sly little smile curling on her lips. “Romulus just texted me.”

Toralei froze mid-touch-up with her lipstick. “Ugh, him again? Didn’t you just cry over his flea-bitten tail like, two nights ago?”

“It’s not what you think,” Meowlody said quickly. “He’s actually a really nice guy—”

“Nice enough to cheat on you,” Toralei muttered, rolling her eyes so hard they nearly left orbit. She snapped her compact shut with a click, tone venom-sweet. “Seriously, Meow, have some self-respect.”

“He didn’t cheat, Toralei!” Meowlody hissed. “It was a total misunderstanding!”

Purrsephone scoffed. “You're so delusional, Meowlody, it's physically painful to watch you spiral like this.”

Meowlody’s tail lashed. “And what would you know, Seph? All you ever do is scroll through Monstragram and repost thirst traps or meowl about you know who.”

“At least I’m not chasing dog d—” Purrsephone’s voice cracked into a low snarl, her ears pinning back. “At least I have standards, Meowlody.”

The twins rarely fought, but when they did, it was claws-out and fur-flying.

Toralei pinched the bridge of her nose like this was all giving her a migraine. “Can you two get it together for, like, five fucking seconds? You’re being so embarrassing.”

Purrsephone ignored her and leaned in, her voice dropping. “I heard something from Spectra. But wait—check the stalls. Can’t risk anyone eavesdropping.”

Clawdeen froze, curled up tight in the last stall like a kicked pup. Her breathing hitched.Fuck. Of all the places to be caught mid-cycle, this was the worst. Her head throbbed, her body ached with pressure she barely understood, and if the werecats found her like this… They’d tear her to shreds. Metaphorically. Maybe.

She held her breath, barely daring to blink as she heard the sharp click of heels on tile. One of the werecats—Purrsephone, probably—was checking each stall with mechanical efficiency. The sound of doors creaking open echoed like thunder in Clawdeen’s ears.

Just stay still. Just breathe. Don’t move. Please don’t let them find me.

A toilet flushed somewhere. A sink dripped in protest. Her heart slammed against her ribs like it was trying to claw its way out.

Clank.

Purrsephone pushed open another stall.

Another.

Clawdeen's muscles screamed from holding still.

Then—

“Coast is clear,” Purrsephone announced.

Clawdeen exhaled so slowly it hurt.

But deep down, she knew it was only a matter of time before the claws really came out.

Purrsephone “ I heard that Gil is cheating on a Lagoona”. 

That's sooo old news, they're always breaking up and getting back together 

Whatever, Purrsephone hissed. 

“Sephy, I need you to come with me. To meet Romulus.”

Purrsephone looked up from her claws, arching a brow. “Why the hell would I do that?”

Clawdeen didn’t even flinch. “Because Toralei won’t. And you owe me.”

A slow, sharp exhale. A glare. Then: “Fine.”

The two werecats turned on their heels and stalked off, leaving Toralei alone in the bathroom.

From the narrow slit of the bathroom stall, Clawdeen watched.

Toralei sat on the edge of the sink counter, legs crossed, tail swaying lazily. She looked calm. Too calm. Her emerald eyes glittered like poisoned jewels, filled with mischief. Predatory. Dangerous. That smirk she wore—it wasn’t just smug, it was surgical. Like she knew something. Like she was about to use it.

Clawdeen swallowed hard. She’d almost forgotten the pulsing problem between her legs—almost. But seeing her like this… the boiling in her blood surged again.

She hated her. Hated her stupid smile. Hated her lies, her gossip, her games. Hated how the sight of her made her ache.

A low growl rumbled up Clawdeen’s throat, quiet but unmistakable.

Get it together, Clawdeen.

But then—

“You can come out,” Toralei purred, her voice low and syrupy. “No one’s here.”

Clawdeen froze.

Her amber eyes flicked toward the crack in the stall—and there she was.

Toralei was staring straight at her.

That smirk hadn’t budged. If anything, it grew. She rested her chin lazily on her hand, her stripes curving like flames across her cheeks. Her emerald gaze shimmered with sinful delight.

Clawdeen took a breath, steady and slow. Then she fixed herself, tucking down her heat, smoothing out her skirt, taming the storm inside—and stepped out of the stall.

She walked with fire.

Shoulders back. Head high. Eyes sharp.

She wouldn’t give Toralei the satisfaction of seeing fear. Or want. Or weakness.

But gods—she was burning.

Their eyes met. Clawdeen’s molten amber locked with Toralei’s venomous green.

Toralei stood slowly, her body unfolding like a silk ribbon. She hopped off the sink in one fluid motion, her heels tapping against the tile like a countdown. Every step she took toward Clawdeen was deliberate. Her hips swayed with a predator’s grace. Her tail curled with anticipation.

Clawdeen didn’t move.

She didn’t have to move.

The tension was already stretching between them like a frayed wire about to snap.

Toralei stopped just in front of her, too close for comfort—but not close enough for touch. She tilted her chin up, eyes drinking in Clawdeen.

Then she sniffed.

Subtle. Slow. Savoring.

Her pupils dilated.

“Oh,” she breathed, voice like velvet laced with claws. “So it was you.”

Clawdeen’s jaw clenched. “You’re delusional.”

But the scent—gods, the scent was unmistakable. The kind of scent that crawled under your skin, that wrapped you in velvet and bit down hard. It was lust. It was want. It was wild.

And it was hers.

Toralei smiled like she’d won.

“Funny. You’re standing there, trying to look all composed,” she said, circling the werewolf now, like a flame dancing around kindling. “But I can smell it, Clawdeen. You want me. You hate that you want me.”

Clawdeen didn’t turn her head. “You’re not that special.”

Toralei tsked, finally stopping behind her. “But I make you feral, don’t I?”

Her breath ghosted across Clawdeen’s ear.

The wolf’s claws flexed.

And still, Toralei wasn’t done. Her hand hovered—just shy of touching Clawdeen’s lower abdomen.

“You can pretend,” she whispered, her voice a near-growl. “You can lie to your friends, lie to yourself… but in here, when it’s just us…”

She pressed her lips close to Clawdeen’s ear.

“You’re mine.”

The tension shattered like glass.

Clawdeen spun around, fire blazing in her amber eyes, lips parted—whether to snarl or crash into Toralei’s, even she didn’t know.

But she didn’t lunge.

Not yet.

And neither did Toralei.

They just stood there, chests rising, eyes locked, barely breathing—two storms waiting to devour each other.

“Enough, Toralei,” Clawdeen snapped, shoving the smug feline aside as she stormed toward the sink. Her hands trembled as she turned on the water, steam rising like smoke from a fuse. “It’s too freakin’ early for your games.”

Toralei leaned against the tiled wall, unfazed, lips curling into a dangerous smile. “Funny,” she purred. “You weren’t saying that when you were inside me.”

The words hit like a slap.

Clawdeen’s hands stilled mid-wash.

And then—click.

Toralei, with infuriating calm, pulled out her iCoffin. She tapped her claw on the screen and hit play.

A voice purred through the speaker. Clawdeen’s voice. Low. Breathless. Sultry. "Just like that, kitten... You're taking me soo well—" She could hear Toralei yowlling in the background, she could feel the heat between her legs and her cheeks.

SNAP.

Clawdeen lunged, snatching the iCoffin, but Toralei was faster. She dodged with a teasing spin, laughter dripping from her throat like syrup.

The wolf’s growl rumbled through the bathroom, raw and full of rage. Her amber eyes flared, daggers locked on the striped menace in front of her.

“You wouldn’t,” Clawdeen hissed.

Toralei tapped her chin with a claw, pretending to ponder. “Maybe you’re right… or maybe I should send it to the Ghostly Gossip. What do you think, Clawdeen?” Her voice dragged her name out like a purr.

She stepped closer, slow, deliberate. Her scent—Lemongrass, danger, heat—wrapped around Clawdeen like a noose.

“You really should watch our videos, Poochie.” Toralei was behind her now, a whisper against her neck. Her arms ghosted around Clawdeen’s waist, not touching—taunting.

She leaned in, breathing her in, devouring her scent like it was a drug.

“Gods, you smell like sin,” Toralei murmured, lips close enough to  burn. “Like my personal brand of catnip.”

Clawdeen clenched her jaw. “Maybe you should get a damn hobby.”

“Oh, but this is my hobby,” Toralei whispered. “Winding you up. Watching you unravel.”

She pressed just close enough for Clawdeen to feel her behind her. “Maybe I’ll just mess with you a while longer. Make you chase me. Pin me.  Make me whimper.”

Clawdeen turned, breaking free with a forceful shrug, her growl vibrating against the tile. “You’re gonna get bored real fast,” she snapped. “Because I’ve got no intention of playing this sick little game.”

Toralei just smiled wider. “That’s why we cats play with our prey. Keeps the excitement going.”

She leaned against the wall, arms crossed, licking her fangs slowly. “But if you really want out... maybe we should just recreate that night. You remember, right?” Her eyes dropped—lingered. “The way you begged.The way you couldn’t stop touching me, like I was the only thing keeping you from losing control.”

Clawdeen’s breath hitched—but just for a second.

She bit it back, hard.

“Keep dreaming, Toralei.”

She shoved the door open with her shoulder, striding out with fire trailing behind her, rage and arousal clawing each other for dominance in her chest.

“Run all you want, Clawdeen,” Toralei called sweetly after her. “You know damn well—your heat? No one handles it like I do. No one owns you like I do.”

The bathroom door slammed shut behind her.

Clawdeen stormed down the hall, heart pounding, fists clenched, fury and desire roaring through her veins.

“Stupid cat,” she muttered through gritted teeth. “I hate her.”

But her body still burned.

And every step she took away from her… she ached to turn around.

Chapter Text

Monster High’s halls were always haunted—by ghosts, ghouls, and sometimes by secrets.

Whispers curled like smoke in the air, mingling with giggles, side-eyes, and lingering stares. Some came from monsters with one eye, some with too many, but lately… Frankie felt like all of them were aimed at her.

It wasn’t like she hadn’t been talked about before. It came with the territory—being stitched together from dozens of famous brains. But this… this felt different. This felt personal. Like everyone was in on a joke, and she was the last one to get it.

The towering, gothic walls of Monster High seemed to loom even taller as she walked through the corridors, every creak in the floor and shift of shadows pressing on her like invisible weight. Frankie sparked slightly—tiny zaps crackling from the bolts in her neck. She tried to brush it off.

Maybe I’m overthinking, she told herself. Again.

But the unease curled in her chest like a live wire.

“Hey, Draculaura!” she called out, spotting her friend at her locker.

The petite vampire was halfway inside it, standing on her tippy toes, trying to reach her Fanglish textbook from the top shelf. Her pink skin glowed like a rose petal under the fluorescent lights, and her pigtails bounced with every frustrated reach.

“Oh! Hey, Frankie!” Draculaura beamed, her voice as warm and sweet as ever. Just hearing it brought a flicker of comfort.

But Draculaura's smile faltered slightly as she turned fully toward Frankie. She noticed immediately—the static hum clinging to Frankie’s aura, the sharp, anxious crackle of her bolts flaring slightly from her neck.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes! Everything’s just… voltageous,” Frankie said, with a smile too forced to be convincing.

Draculaura arched a perfectly drawn brow.

“Frankie…”

Frankie sighed. “Okay. No. I don’t know. Something’s just off. Everyone’s acting weird around me. Like I’ve missed something major, and no one’s saying it.”

Draculaura stepped closer, placing a gentle hand on her friend’s shoulder.

“Monsters can be nosy. Maybe it’s nothing. Could be some overblown drama for Ghostly Gossip. You know how that blog eats up the smallest rumours.”

“I know… I just—” Frankie looked away. “It doesn’t stop it from feeling bad. I hate not knowing what’s going on. It makes me feel like… like I’m unravelling.”

Draculaura’s expression softened. “Hey. You’ve got me. And Cleo, and Clawdeen, Ghoulia and Lagoona. We’re your beasties, Frankie. If something’s up, we’ll face it together. Promise.”

Frankie gave a genuine smile this time, the tension in her shoulders easing just a little.

“Thanks, Drac. I really needed to hear that.”

And she did. Because sometimes being Frankie Stein meant literally falling apart. But every time, she stitched herself back up—spark by spark, thread by thread.

She was made from legends. Reanimated with genius. And even if her bolts sparked from stress, she was still Frankie Fucking Stein.

Draculaura closed her locker with a soft click.

“I’ll see you in Fanglish, yeah? I’m meeting Clawd real quick.”

“Cool. Tell him to stop hogging the casketball spotlight,” Frankie teased.

Draculaura giggled, giving a little wave. “He’ll try—no promises!”

Frankie stood there for a moment as the vampire skipped away, a little more grounded than before. The halls of Monster High were still haunted, but at least she wasn’t navigating them alone.

—

Clawd dribbled the casketball with purpose, brows furrowed, eyes scanning the court. The weight of the game pressed on his broad shoulders—not just the ball in his hands, but the expectations too. He was the star player, sure, but it didn’t mean he wanted to carry the whole team on his back every single play.

Casketball ain’t just brute force, he reminded himself. It’s a strategy. Timing. Patience.

He faked left, faked right. Should he pass to Deuce? Maybe Heath—nah. That dumbass was still trying to untangle his shoelaces two minutes ago. He pushed forward, dodging a swipe from Manny Taur, but he wasn’t even past the halfway line yet.

“Will someone fucking move already?!” he growled internally, biting back the urge to yell.

“Clawd! Over here!” Deuce called out, arms raised.

With a sharp breath, Clawd chest-passed the ball to Deuce, then surged forward to set a screen, using his body to block Manny and give Deuce space. Clawd threw a smirk over his shoulder.

“Hey Manny, pretty sure I saw someone in the crowd wearing red,” he teased.

Manny blinked, distracted. “Where?!”

Deuce took the chance, side-stepping around the confused minotaur with ease.

“Yo! That’s fucking cheating! Bro! ” Manny shouted, stomping a hoof.

Deuce cackled and dribbled past Heath—who barely reacted—before passing the ball to Gil. Gil took the shot.

It bounced off the rim with a loud clang.

“Ugh—my bad, guys. Totally messed that up,” Gil muttered, scratching the back of his neck, embarrassed.

“Don’t sweat it, dude,” Clawd said, clapping him on the back. “It’s just one shot. We’ve got time.”

“Yeah, bro,” Deuce added. “It’s just a practice game.”

Suddenly, the gym doors burst open with a bang.

“ARE YOU MONSTER READY TO PAAAARTY?!”

Holt Hyde skidded onto the court in gym shorts and shades, striking a pose like he just stepped off a concert stage.

“Uh-oh,” Gil muttered. “Somebody’s extra charged today.”

“Tryna get lit, y’know?” Holt said, spinning the ball on his finger. “Jackson’s got next period, and I am NOT about to sit through Chemistry. I need to move!”

“Jackson’s alright, though,” Deuce defended.

“Yeah, yeah,” Holt replied, waving a hand. “He’s just not mwah. I need the beats, the action, the energy—” His voice dropped suddenly as he looked around. “Okay, but… who am I playing with?”

He pointed toward Heath, who was trying—and failing—to do a muscle flex test against Manny for the fourth time.

“You’re not seriously putting me with him, right?” Holt asked, lowering his shades and jabbing a thumb in Heath’s direction.

Clawd shrugged. “Hey, Heath!”

Heath looked up and immediately tripped over nothing, crashing face-first onto the court.

“Holt’s on your team,” Clawd added with a sigh.

Still facedown on the floor, Heath gave a muffled, “That’s rad,” and threw up a thumbs-up.

“I can’t believe you’re related to him,” Deuce muttered.

Holt groaned. “Don’t remind me.”

Clawd clapped his hands. “Alright, let’s do this! Me, Gil, and Manny…”

He pointed toward the others.

“...versus Deuce, Holt, and, uh… Heath.”

“Time to show ‘em what we’ve got!” Heath said, somehow full of energy again, throwing his arms around Holt and Deuce.

—

Draculaura sat perched on a bench in the gym hall, legs delicately crossed, her pink eyes locked onto Clawd as he moved across the court like he owned it.
She watched him in secret, though her smile betrayed her affection. Her heart fluttered every time he sprinted down the court—his toned frame moving effortlessly, dribbling past every monster like it was child’s play.

His amber eyes were sharp with focus, brows furrowed just enough to make her melt. She noticed the way his ears twitched when he concentrated—tiny, subtle things only she ever seemed to catch. It made her feel like she understood a version of him no one else did.

She had lived for over a thousand years, but no heartbeat, no moment, no monster ever made her feel like this. It was like Clawd was stitched into her destiny.

Smiling, she took out her iCoffin and opened her group chat with the ghouls.

Deen: Hey ghouls sorry I’m running late. Meet you in Fanglish!

Sparky: Everything okay, Clawdeen?

Deen: Yeah, all good. Minor fashion emergency—but it’s handled. I’m flawless again.

Aussie: Hiya, mates! Just finished swim practice. See ya soon 

Bandage Baddie: Emergency mani!
Broke a nail! 

Cleo dropped a photo of her hand with the tiniest chip on her nail.

Bandage Baddie: Isn’t this horrible, ghouls?! A royal disaster.

Missdeadfast: ughghuuhha ahsyygggh argh 

Bandage Baddie: Ghoulia, don’t you dare mock me—this is a national emergency.

Draculaura giggled softly and tucked her iCoffin away, turning her full attention back to her favorite manster.

Suddenly, Clawd jogged to the top of the key, pausing just before the halfway line. He met her gaze and grinned.

“This one’s for you, Draculaura!”

He took the shot. The ball soared cleanly through the air and swished through the hoop—smooth, effortless, and dazzling. He winked at her, his smile wide, goofy, and soaked in affection.

She laughed under her breath.
“What a goofball,” she murmured.

Clawd jogged over, sweat glistening on his forehead, his shirt clinging to his broad chest.

“Hey, babe, what’s up?” he said, eyes twinkling, amber and warm like sunset gold.

Draculaura tilted her head with a coy smile.
“Just came to see my handsome manster in action.”

Clawd beamed.
“We still on for later? You said you wanted to see that romantic movie—‘Lovebirds’ or whatever?”

“We could,” she teased, “or… we could watch it at my place.”

He blinked, surprised.
“Are you sure? What about your dad—”

“He’s not there,” she cut in, voice smooth like silk.

She raised her brows suggestively. It took Clawd a moment, but once it clicked, his grin turned wicked.

“Oh… right.” He leaned closer, towering just slightly, his frame casting a shadow over her petite form.
“You sure you can handle this big bad fearsome wolf?”

Draculaura bit her lower lip, her gaze dropping to his biceps before sliding back to his eyes. Her voice turned low and teasing.

“Clawd…” she purred his name, dragging out each syllable. “This vampire can handle anything. Even you, sweetie.”

Clawd's face inched closer, the tension between them electric.

“Keep that up, Lala,” he murmured, voice husky, “and I don’t think this dog can hold back much longer.”

His eyes, golden and wild, glistened like scattered stars, and she was completely lost in them.

“Walk me to Class, my big, strong wolf”

She hooked her arm around his biceps, she forgot how really strong he is, how his fur is soft against her pristine, pale pink skin. 

The way he smiled at her made her heart warm and whole, this happiness she had felt, with her Clawd. 

Chapter Text

Frankie sat in her usual seat in Fanglish, but the whispers flitting across the room and the stares creeping from behind monstergram screens were starting to unravel her, thread by thread.

She fidgeted with the bolts at her neck, her nerves buzzing louder than the static in her stitches.

“Heya, love,” came Lagoona’s voice, smooth and steady like a calm wave lapping at the shore. It instantly grounded her.

“Hey, Lagoona,” Frankie replied, trying to sound upbeat. But no matter how much she lifted her voice, the weight in her gut dragged it right back down.

“You okay?” Lagoona asked, tilting her head, sea-blue eyes warm with concern.

Frankie hesitated. “I don’t know, ghoul. Ever get that bad feeling? Like something’s off—but you can’t name it? I talked to Drac, she thinks it’s just gossip...”

“I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about,” Lagoona said gently. “No ghoul fights? No boy drama?”

Well,” Frankie offered a half-smile, trying to play it casual, "Jackson and Holt are the only mansters in life that I need, all the other guys were in the past”

Some past connections were light—almost platonic. Like Neighthan. Sweet guy, super thoughtful... but sparks? Not really. More like friendly static.

Then there was Andy. That one was... strictly physical. And, wow, he was fucking good—like, sculpted-by-the-ancients good—but once the claws were retracted and the thrill wore off, she found herself lying there bored, counting the stitches on her arm.

But Jackson? Jackson was something else. Kind, grounded, and so brilliantly brainy that Frankie felt like they could talk for hours about voltage currents and monster politics. He challenged her, and she liked that. A lot.

Then of course... there was Holt.
Wild, impulsive, fire, and rhythm. He made her laugh, made her dance, made her heart race in ways she hadn’t expected. He was a DJ, a walking concert, a live wire.

One was stable. One was fire. And she?
She was somewhere in the middle—stitched from a hundred parts and trying to make sense of her own heart.

“Then you’re all clear, love.” Lagoona winked.

Frankie chuckled, grateful for the normalcy. “Speaking of mansters... how are you and Gil?”

At once, Lagoona’s face lit up. Her sea-salt freckles shimmered under the classroom lights like warm sand scattered across pale ocean skin. Even her blush was visible—rosy against her aquatic glow.

“We’re going swimmingly,” she beamed. “Even if I can’t always read his mind.” She giggled. “But honestly, I’m proud of him. Standing up to his parents about us? That meant everything.”

Frankie nodded. She knew how tough it had been for the couple—between the saltwater vs freshwater nonsense and Gil’s family’s ancient opinions, they’d nearly broken up last Scaremester. But now, they’d come back stronger, more respectful. Boundaries mattered.

“You know what? I’m just happy to hear my ghoulfriend is thriving.”

“Oh, I am, babe,” Lagoona said, flipping her beachy blonde waves off her shoulder. “Coach Igor says I should totally try out for the Boolympics—he even said he’d put in a good word!”

Frankie smiled wide, about to respond—when the door burst open.

“Oh my growl, sorry I’m late!” Clawdeen huffed as she skidded into the room.

“Well, look who washed ashore,” Lagoona teased.

Clawdeen dropped into the seat beside Frankie. Her usually sleek curls were a little wild, and her shallow breath filled the room.

“Were you sprinting through the woods?” Frankie asked, eyeing her suspiciously.

“Huh?” Clawdeen blinked, dazed.

“Girl, you look like you just huffed and puffed someone’s house down,” Lagoona smirked.

“Haha, real mature.” Clawdeen rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched into a smile.

“Anyway,” Frankie nudged her, “what’s up?”

Clawdeen groaned, tugging at her collar. “It’s nothing. Just had a—”

The door flew open again.

Cleo stormed in like a sandstorm with Ghoulia right behind her, books stacked high and face unreadable.

“Ghouls,” Cleo announced dramatically, “you would not believe the morning I’ve had.”

“What happened?” Frankie asked, already bracing herself.

“Uuuunnghh,” Ghoulia grumbled.

“Oh crikey,” Lagoona gasped. “Did you fight Nefera?”

Cleo whipped around, glaring at her undead friend. “Ghoulia, if you’re going to blurt it out, at least tell it properly.”

With the poison of a cobra and the exhaustion of a royal heiress, Cleo dropped into the seat in front of Frankie, letting the weight of her drama crash into the table.

“Nefera’s back,” she spat, venom laced in every syllable. “Expelled from that fashion school in Scaris. Cheated on her finals. Typical.”

“Sounds like the Nefera we know,” Clawdeen deadpanned.

“That’s not even the worst part.” Cleo’s voice cracked like ancient stone. “She told Daddy to limit my credit card! Can you believe thatl?!”

Frankie winced in sympathy. “That’s awful...”

“So you attacked her?” Clawdeen asked, half-teasing.

Cleo’s eyes flared. “The bitch asked for it.”

Ghoulia snorted.

Steam practically fumed from Cleo’s ears as she tossed her golden bangs and folded her arms. “She wants to make my unlife a frightmare? She’s about to see what happens when you mess with a queen.”

“Meeowwwrrr.”

Purrsephone and Meowlody strutted into the classroom fashionably late, as always. Their tails flicked in perfect sync—no one could tell if it was a twin thing or just some weird cat drama choreography. Their obnoxious, high-pitched laughter echoed through the room like claws on a chalkboard.

Clawdeen barely flinched at the sound—but only barely. What hit her harder than the laugh was the absence that came with it.

Toralei wasn’t with them.

That shouldn’t have mattered. But suddenly, images of the striped troublemaker flashed through her mind—fast, hot, and...naughty.

She shook her head quickly, a bit too hard, like she was trying to jostle the thoughts right out of her skull.

“Clawdeen? Are you okay?” Draculaura whispered from beside her, concerned.

Clawdeen shifted in her seat, crossing her legs tightly, trying to mask the prickling heat crawling under her fur. “Y-Yeah. Clawsome,” she choked out, voice cracked and too high.

Thank the moon for her thick, gorgeous, coily brown mane—it hid the blush creeping up her cheeks like wildfire.

Draculaura blinked at her. “You sure?”

“Totally,” Clawdeen muttered, internally screaming.

Meanwhile, Frankie narrowed her eyes at the twin werecats still snickering in the back.

“I wonder what they’re laughing about...” she murmured.

It was rare for Frankie’s voice to carry venom, but when it came to Purrsephone and Meowlody, she had her reasons—specifically a certain fling with Holt back when she and him were “on a break.”

“Still not over it,” Cleo chuckled under her breath, arching one of her sculpted brows toward her.

“I—I am over it!” Frankie stammered, eyes darting away. “It’s... nothing.”

“Hey ghoul,” Draculaura whispered kindly, nudging her elbow, “Clawd said he’s over the moon about you. Don’t let two alley cats get under your bolts.”

Frankie’s cheeks sparked with a light blush, just as Ghoulia leaned forward, speaking in her slow zombie tongue, “Hey ghoul, I just want to say you have nothing to worry about , you two make a perfect couple , Slomo and I think he brings the best in you”(in zombies) Ghoulia expresessed.

Frankie smiled, momentarily swept in warmth. Her ghoulfriends were loyal. Fierce. And whatever chaos came her way—she knew they had her back.

Until that laugh came again.

That bitchy fucking, soul-shrinking laugh.

Frankie whipped around to face the back of the classroom. The twins were lounging with their iCoffins out, whispering and giggling. And while she couldn’t hear the words, she could feel it—like her name was hanging from their fangs.

Meowlody caught her glare first, and without missing a beat, tapped Purrsephone. Both turned. Both smirked.

It felt personal.

Something inside Frankie snapped.

Clawdeen noticed first. “Frankie... they're not worth it,” she said quietly. Oddly calm. Too calm.

Frankie blinked. “What?”

“I mean it. Just ignore them.”

Frankie stared. That wasn’t like Clawdeen. Normally, she’d be the first to throw down with the twins if they so much as looked at someone sideways.

“C’mon, Clawdeen! Someone’s gotta call them out!”

“For what Love? Sure, they're bitches, but we have no reason to say anything to them.” Lagonna chimed.

“They’re not worth it, darling,” Cleo added, casually reapplying lipstick using her hand mirror. “Not even for the drama. And you know I unlive for drama.”

But Frankie wasn’t hearing it.

She stood up, electricity sparking from her bolts. Her rage was palpable—like a thunderstorm had taken human shape.

Even Manny the Minotaur would’ve flinched. Most monsters would.

But the twins?

They just looked at each other... and laughed.

Mocking. Cruel. Loud enough to make Frankie’s bolts spark.

Purrsephone wiped away a fake tear. “Okay, Frankie, we see you, ghoul.”

“Whaaddya want, ghoul?” Meowlody asked lazily. The werecat rested her chin on her hand and examined the ghoul in front of her, a wicked smile tugged at her lips.

Frankie’s voice trembled—but not with fear. With fury.

“I want to know what you two were saying. And I know you’ve been spreading rumours. That’s what you do. You live to make people miserable.”

“Rumours?” Purrsephone tilted her head, mock-innocent. “Like... what? That you’re still pressed about me and  Holt? 

Frankie’s jaw clenched.

“You know,” she added with a twisted grin, “maybe Toralei’s not here because she’s the one doing the talking. Not us.”

Clawdeen stood up so fast her chair scraped across the floor.

“Enough!” she snapped, moving to Frankie’s side with a suddenness that startled even the twins. “Frankie. Drop it. They’re not worth this. Not today.”

Draculaura and Lagoona had already made their way over, placing gentle hands on Frankie’s shoulders, grounding her.

Reluctantly, she stepped back.

“But Clawdeen—”

“No. Frankie, you can’t just storm up to people and throw accusations without proof. I know they’re snakes in stripes, but we don’t need to stoop to their level.”

Frankie looked at her, confused. Hurt.

“I thought you’d have my back.”

Clawdeen hesitated for a breath too long.

Draculaura caught it.

So did the twins.

But before Frankie could say more, the bell rang—slicing through the tension like a blade.

Class was starting.

But no one would be paying attention today.

Not when secrets were simmering.

_____________________

She parted her lips and took a long drag of the cigarette, letting the smoke curl slowly from her mouth into the empty, heavy air behind Monster High.

She didn’t smoke often. Not really. But lately—it was the only thing that numbed the restlessness clawing under her skin.

A message buzzed against her palm.

Seph: Where r u, Tora?You missed the fucking Drama

Meowl: Ghoul get you ass here neowww

Toralei didn’t answer.

She stared blankly at the screen for a moment, then let it fall back to her side, the dim glow of her iCoffin screen flickering out.

She could meet up with the twins, sure. She could go pretend to care about dumb gossip and laugh at something stupid. But what was the point? Everything felt hollow. Everyone tasted like dust in her mouth now.

Clawdeen ruined her for the ordinary.

And that—that was the worst part.

Toralei took another drag, her hands shaking despite herself. She tried not to let her thoughts drift to the werewolf. She really did.

But it was constant. Inescapable.

The image of Clawdeen burned behind her eyelids: golden-brown fur, those perfect caramel locs falling in soft, coily waves. And those eyes—gods, those eyes—deep molten amber, fierce one moment and meltingly warm the next.

Toralei could still smell her. That scent, earthy and electric, like wildflowers caught in a lightning storm. It haunted her, lingering in her clothes, her dreams, and her soul.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

The words pulsed through her chest like a ritual drumbeat, too old and primal to name.

She wasn’t supposed to feel like this. She was supposed to tease and torment and walk away. She wasn’t supposed to need the wolf like she needed air. 

A gust of wind stirred the leaves around her shoes, crisp and golden. The autumn chill bit at her exposed fur, but it only made her ache sharper, clearer.

“Hey, Kitty Cat.”

Toralei didn’t need to turn her head. She knew that voice— that smooth drawl he always laid on too thick, letting the words roll lazily off his tongue.

She took a long drag of her cigarette, smoke curling up around her face. Her eyes never met his. She acknowledged him with silence.

“What are you doing here?” Valentine drawled, leaning against the brick wall of the school, one hand casually outstretched toward her.

Toralei let out a small, exasperated laugh, rolling her eyes before pressing a cigarette into his palm.

Without a word, he slipped out his old lighter from the inside pocket of his blazer—a relic from the 1800s, probably older than most ghosts roaming these halls. The brass was scuffed and dented, but still carried an elegance, just like him.

He flicked the cap, a sharp metallic snap breaking the quiet. A small, fierce flame sputtered to life, glowing warm against his fingers. He leaned forward, the fire catching in his sharp pink eyes, and held it steady to his lips.

The cigarette between his teeth caught instantly, ember flaring as he inhaled.

Valentine took a long drag, exhaled slow, and let his shoulders relax. For someone who had been alive for centuries, he clung to his little vices. It wasn’t uncommon for him and Toralei to cross paths back here, sharing a smoke, trading gossip, or just tearing into teachers they couldn’t stand.

But today the air was different—thick, tense, heavier than the smoke curling between them.

“What’s wrong with you, ghoul?” Valentine gestured lazily with his free hand. “Your fur’s all on edge.”

All he got was a sharp huff.

“I’m not in the mood,” Toralei muttered.

Val smirked knowingly. “Hmm. I wonder if it has anything to do with a certain wolf…”

Her ears flicked back, and she hissed, finally turning her head toward him. “So it is about a wolf. You’re not exactly subtle.”

“What do you want, Val?” she snapped.

“Oh, can’t I just talk to a friend?” he asked, all fake innocence.

Toralei rolled her eyes, smoke curling from her lips. A sly smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “You didn’t come out here to talk, Val. Who’s got you in a mood—come to bitch about someone?”

“Ugh, darling, please. I’ve got nothing—no gossip, no drama. Same old dead halls in this school.”

“I take it your date didn’t go well, then?” she teased.

Valentine threw his hands up in frustration, nearly dropping his cigarette. His perfect hair flared with just a touch of vampire dramatics as his face flushed red. “It was fucking atrocious, ghoul. Don’t even get me started.” He stabbed the air with his cigarette.

“He was sooo boring—and not even in a sexy, brooding way. Like… this guy could’ve bored me back to life.”

Toralei let out a sudden giggle, smoke slipping from her lips.

“Oh, so you’re enjoying my suffering.”

“I enjoy everyone’s suffering,” she purred. “You’re not that special.”

Valentine scoffed, dragging on his cigarette. “Ghoul, why can’t I find a nice guy? Do you know how hard it is to be gay out here? I literally have zero options.”

Toralei smirked. “Mmhmm… there’s Gil.”

She burst out laughing at her own joke.

Val rolled his eyes. “You know what? I kinda see it. But if he’s my only option, I’m doomed for eternity.” He tossed his head back dramatically, smoke swirling like stage fog.

“That’s true.”

“That’s rich coming from you.”

Her tail flicked. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

Val leaned closer, arrogance dripping off his fangs as he inhaled another drag. “I mean, you’re out here chasing whatever fuck-feast you and Clawdeen got going on—”

“It’s complicated,” Toralei cut in with a hiss, her claws flexing against the brick wall behind her. Her voice dropped lower, dangerous and sweet at once. “She’s just proud. I’ll break her… then she’ll be mine.”

Her words slithered out like honey laced with venom, a promise and a threat in the same breath.

“Good luck with that, kitty cat,” Valentine smirked. “But we both know how these things end.”

“Well, it won’t be as tragic as your date,” Toralei shot back.

“Bitch.” The vampire gave her a side-eye sharp enough to cut glass.

“You wish.” He tossed his hair, the red streak catching in the light as he adjusted his blazer with unnecessary precision. Then he flicked his cigarette to the ground and crushed it under his heel.

“We should go out soon. It’ll be good for us.”

“Hhhmm—good for us, or are you just scouting for another boy toy?”

“Listen, Tor,” he said, dropping the drama for a second. He turned, resting a hand on her shoulder with mock sincerity. “I say this with love. Ever since I caught you and Clawdeen sneaking around that classroom, you’ve been obsessed.”

Toralei rolled her eyes, shrugging him off. He wasn’t entirely wrong, and that annoyed her most. There was something about Clawdeen that made her blood hum—her scent, her fire, her damn stubbornness. Her body responded before her brain could tell it no. And Clawdeen pulling away? Acting cold? That just made the chase sweeter. A challenge Toralei would win.

“Whatever,” she muttered.

Val took another flamboyant drag of nothing, then clapped his hands together. “Look, I just think we need a night out. Get wasted, cause some chaos, stop thinking about this shit.”

Toralei sighed. “Ugh, fine.”

“You know, I am right,” he grinned. “And bring Purrsephone and Meowlody. I hate them, but I live for their gossip.”

Valentine turned on his heel like he was walking a runway, waving one hand dramatically. “Byeee, bitch.”

Toralei snorted, shaking her head. For all his dramatics, maybe the bitch had a point

And then, just like that, she was alone again. Alone with her thoughts, which always managed to turn into claws of their own. If she could just feel Clawdeen one more time—just one more touch, one more taste—maybe it would quiet the storm in her chest. Maybe things will go back to normal.

Chapter Text

Toralei stormed through the halls of Monster High like a living thunderstorm. Her fury radiated off the walls in electric waves. She hissed under her breath, her claws twitching with restrained rage, and her tail cracked behind her like a whip—sharp, loud, dangerous.

Anyone foolish enough to cross her path today would feel the full force of the feline’s wrath.

"Hey, Toralei," Cleo called out with a smug flip of her perfectly manicured hair. "Looks like your fur’s on edge. What’s wrong—cat got your tongue?"

Toralei skidded to a halt. Her jade eyes narrowed into deadly slits as she whipped around, fangs slightly bared. The growl that brewed in her chest threatened to spill into something much worse.

Then her eyes landed on Clawdeen across the hall.

Clawdeen stood still, arms crossed, dark amber eyes locked with hers—steady, challenging, unreadable. It wasn’t a long stare, but it was enough. A silent, fierce exchange that only they felt… and Toralei blinked first.

Cleo, oblivious to the quiet war that had just happened, beamed with satisfaction as Toralei stormed off again, her tail lashing with thunderous snaps.

“See, Frankie?” Cleo smirked. “That’s how you handle those alley cats. You assert dominance. Keep ‘em in check.”

Frankie rolled her eyes. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but… Toralei’s not even the problem.”

“Purrsephone?” Lagoona guessed with a wince.

“Bingo.”

“It’s just so frustrating,” Frankie snapped, “the way they act like they own the place. Like they can just sit there swaying their tails, stirring up drama, not a care in the world.”

“Frankie…” Clawdeen finally spoke up, her tone sharp. “They’re not worth the bite.”

Frankie turned toward her. “ Why didn’t you say something earlier? You usually don’t hesitate to call them out—you practically live for it. You left me hanging!”

Clawdeen scoffed, crossing her arms. “Really, Frankie? I’m not the one throwing accusations based on feelings. You want to start fights, fine. But don’t expect me to back you when there’s no fucking reason.”

She growled under her breath and threw her hands up. “You know what—I need space.”

Draculaura reached out gently, her eyes full of concern. “Clawdeen, you don’t have to go. We’re all just tense.”

“I’m sorry, Drac,” Clawdeen muttered, pulling away. “But I’m—ugh—I just need air.”

And with that, she turned and walked off, vanishing into the crowded hallway of monsters.

The group stood in silence, watching her go.

Draculaura turned to Frankie, her voice soft but firm. “I know you’re upset, but misdirecting it at Clawdeen isn’t fair.”

“Yeah, mate,” Lagoona added. “We all saw what happened. She had a point.”

Frankie sighed deeply, bolts sparking weakly at her neck. “Oh, circuits… what have I done? I'm a mess”

“You’re not a mess,” Draculaura said, brushing her arm gently. “You’re just feeling overwhelmed..”

“She just needs a little space,” Lagoona said. “Then you can talk it out.”

Frankie nodded slowly, still staring at the space where Clawdeen had disappeared.

“…Yeah. I’ll fix it. I have to.”

—-

Clawdeen didn’t know how long she’d been walking—storming, really—through the outskirts of campus. Her fists clenched so tightly her claws dug into her palms. Anger simmered beneath her skin, seething through her fangs. Her amber eyes burned like molten lava, glowing with every ragged breath. A low, threatening growl rumbled deep in her chest, echoing like distant thunder.

“Frankie and her stupid, fucking problems,” she spat under her breath. But even as the words left her mouth, guilt tangled in her gut. Deep down, she got Frankie—understood her stress, her fears. It wasn’t all Frankie’s fault. Still… it didn’t make it okay.

Clawdeen tilted her head toward the sky. The moon hung high above, half-shrouded in cloud, tempting her to let go. To howl. That always helped. That always calmed her.

But not tonight.

Tonight, the itch beneath her skin was deeper—hungrier. Her muscles were tense, her senses heightened. She knew what her body wanted. She could feel it in every twitch of her ears, every flick of her tail. And it wasn’t moonlight or fresh air she was craving.

No.

It was her.

Toralei.

That insufferable, impossible, infuriating feline who lived rent-free in her mind—on her skin—in her blood. Clawdeen snarled and paced faster. What would her friends say if they knew? What would her family think? That their golden ghoul was slipping away, giving into this secret she’d fought to bury?

She’d held it in too long. Hidden it. Denied it. But now… it was devouring her from the inside out.

And somewhere in the back of her mind, her own desire mocked her. Tempting. Teasing. .

In the quiet emptiness of the room, Clawdeen felt her shoulders knot with tension. At least here, she was alone. Safe. Or so she thought.

She tried to focus, to centre herself, but her thoughts were a blur—spinning at a hundred miles per hour, colliding with guilt, confusion, and that aching need she couldn’t name aloud.

Then it hit her.

That scent.

It drifted into her nose like a nicotine rush—sharp, addictive, undeniable. Her body reacted before her mind could even catch up. Her breathing slowed. Her muscles began to relax. Her pupils dilated. Her ears twitched, listening… waiting.

She’s here.

Her instincts whispered it like gospel. No matter how hard she tried to resist, to fight the pull, she couldn’t stop her claws from curling into her arms, pressing into her skin as if trying to ground herself.

Then came the voice.

"Hello," Toralei purred.

Sultry. Confidence. Dangerous.

Clawdeen turned her head slightly, catching the smug smile curled on the feline’s lips. She bit her lower lip, her eyes locked on the wolf with amusement—and hunger.

Toralei strutted forward from the shadows at the back of the room, hips swaying like a hypnotic pendulum, her tail lazily flicking side to side with that maddening feline arrogance.

Clawdeen jerked her body away, trying to put distance between them, even as every instinct inside her screamed to close it.

"Go away, Toralei. I’m not in the mood,” Clawdeen growled, her voice low, tight, strained with effort.

But Toralei wasn’t one to obey boundaries she hadn’t agreed to.

Without hesitation, she stepped in, closing the gap, pressing her body flush against Clawdeen’s back. Her arms wrapped around her waist in a slow, deliberate embrace. Her claws traced light, circling patterns along Clawdeen’s abdomen. Teasing. Testing. Possessing.

She nuzzled against the werewolf’s shoulder and whispered with a smirk, “Awww… is my Wolfie having a bad day?”

The purr in her voice curled around Clawdeen’s spine like smoke—warm, seductive, impossible to ignore.

And Clawdeen… was cracking.

Even if Clawdeen couldn’t bring herself to say it out loud, her body betrayed her in every way that mattered. Her shoulders slowly uncoiled under Toralei’s touch, her breath easing as if soothed by velvet. That voice—warm, teasing, sharp in all the right ways—wrapped around her like a song only she could hear. Even when it taunted, it comforted.

“I’m not really in the mood,” Clawdeen sighed, ears flattening against her hair, her voice barely above a whisper.

Toralei’s chest tightened. It hurt seeing Clawdeen like this. The fierce, radiant werewolf who usually burned with confidence like a thousand suns now looked dim, her light flickering behind guarded eyes.

Without a word, Toralei stepped in closer, gently guiding Clawdeen to face her. Two were-creatures—face to face, caught in a silence more honest than any confession.

Clawdeen’s expression was unreadable. Stubborn. Tired. Guarded.

Toralei lifted a hand to her cheek, careful, reverent. Her thumb moved in slow, soft circles over the werewolf’s fur—comfort without pressure, affection without expectation.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” she asked, her voice low, not a tease this time, but a whisper of concern. Of care.

Clawdeen leaned into the touch like it was instinct—her body knowing what her pride didn’t want to admit. Her eyes closed. Her breathing slowed. For a second, it felt like the world could fall away, and she’d be fine—as long as she stayed right here, pressed into the warmth of this unexpected comfort.

She didn’t pull away.

And for Toralei… that said everything.

“I know what would make you feel better,” Toralei purred, her emerald eyes glinting with mischief—and something else, something dangerous, buried just beneath the smirk. Her brows lifted as a sly little laugh danced on her lips.

Clawdeen rolled her eyes, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. “I really don’t like whatever you’re thinking, Stripe.”

“Aww, come on, Wolfie. Just trust me.” Toralei leaned in, her voice dropping to a velvet whisper. Then, without waiting for permission, she pressed a kiss to Clawdeen’s lips—soft, delicate, petal-like.

She stayed there longer than she meant to.

Long enough for the blush to warm her cheeks.

Long enough for her tail to curl around Clawdeen’s thigh, slow and possessive, betraying everything she refused to say out loud. She wouldn’t admit the butterflies clawing at her chest. She couldn’t afford to fall—because then it wouldn’t be a game anymore. Then it would be real.

And real was terrifying.

But Clawdeen wasn’t afraid.

The werewolf deepened the kiss with a low growl, her hands sliding around Toralei’s waist and tugging her impossibly close. Their bodies pressed together, hungry for contact. Lips moved with purpose now, tongues tasting, fangs grazing, breathes hitching. The tiny, wet sounds of their mouths meeting filled the empty room.

Toralei felt herself melting into Clawdeen’s touch—and hating how much she needed it.

“I knew this would make you feel better,” Toralei purred against her lips.

Clawdeen gave a teasing nip to her bottom lip, eyes glowing with heat.

“No more talking, kitten.”

The werecat happily obliged, humming softly as her arms wrapped around Clawdeen’s neck. Without another word, Clawdeen swept her off her feet and placed her onto the desk, stepping between her thighs with a hunger she no longer tried to hide. Her body burned, heat radiating through her as their kisses deepened—wet, gasping, insatiable.

Claws grazed up and down Toralei’s sides, drawing out soft gasps and delighted shudders.

Both werecreatures fought for breath, lips crashing together again and again, their bodies tangled in a frenzy of instinct and longing. Clawdeen finally broke the kiss, letting her mouth trail down Toralei’s cheek, her jaw, and finally her neck—soft, petal-like kisses that left fire in their wake.

“Oh, Deen,” Toralei moaned, her voice breathy, trembling. “Don’t stop.”

She tilted her head, offering her throat freely, desperately. Her tail curled tigher around Clawdeen’s thigh, claiming her without a word. The heat between them was unbearable, thick like smoke, heavy like thunder in the air before a storm.

Her legs wrapped around Clawdeen’s waist, pulling her closer, until there wasn’t a sliver of space left between them.

She gave herself over—completely, instinctively. She felt Clawdeen's hand on her ass, pushing her closer. It didn't take long for Toralei to feel how stiff Clawdeen was, as she continued to rub herself against her. “Hhhmm, you, hard for me, Wolfie?” Clawdeen held her tighter, her claws digging, as her breath became shallower. 

Toralei traced her tongue around the werewolf's ear, following its shape. “Hhhm, doesn't this give you memories? ” She nibbles on her ear. “You can bend me over the table…” Her voice dropped to a sultry purr, laced with sweet honey. “I'll even let you cum inside me”

Clawdeen felt that shiver through her body, her instincts called her, roared with anger and desperation. ‘She's our mate. ‘Make her ours. ’ She couldn't shake these demands. She looked into Toralei’s eyes. Half-lidded, glazed, emerald irises blown wide, pupils dilated so much they nearly swallowed the green whole. She looked drunk—maybe she was. Or maybe this was something else entirely.

Her lips, pink and swollen, glistened under the soft lighting of the classroom. They bore the evidence of battles fought in the dark—raw from kisses too rough, too hungry. Along her throat, faint bruises bloomed like violets, bite marks etched in like a signature. Each one was a story, a reminder of where teeth had claimed her.

The wolf looked down to see her own visible bulge protruding, her skirt couldn't cover the bulge well enough. And a small wet patch of precum. 

“Look,” Clawdeen snapped out of her thoughts. The orange feline took her hand and led them into her pants. 

Her fingers grazed along what felt like Toralei's patch of fur, right to her soaking pussy. “You're soo wet,” Clawdeen gasped. And the scent that radiated off Toralei. It was becoming overwhelming. 

Toralei was high off the scent, it had driven her away from clarity. The background of the classroom had faded around them, in her mind, they were in her bed. “Deen, I am soo wet, I need you, just this once," the werecat begged, and she never does. Clawdeen's fingers moved slowly and softly, tracing. Toralei moaned in response, the soft touches of the werewolf's fingers tracing her pussy. As if she is learning from her touch. 

Clawdeen felt every wet squelch, and she was amazed and hungry. Her mouth started to salivate. ‘I could taste her. What would she taste like? ’ She can imagine the werecat naked, gripping onto her hair. As her tongue worked between her legs. 

She took her hand out of the feline pants, her fingers soaked, and a string of wetness hung between two of her fingers. Toralei watched the werewolf, curiously and aroused. She watched the werewolf slowly put her fingers, covered in her essence, into her mouth. 

Clawdeen closed her eyes and hummed. She moaned with a newfound pleasure. “Toralei.. you taste soo good” 

“Hhhm, wanna taste more?” She opened her legs wider. “Because that can be arranged”

Their mouths collided again, rougher, biting and nipping each other, moaning between each kiss. 

Clawdeen felt the feline work her hands into her pants. She can feel her cock pulsing as Toralei's fingers curled around it. “Ahh Tori, we-we really shouldn't” This was her sad attempt to fight off any bad decisions about to be made. 

“Shhh, let me make you feel good”  Her hand moved from the base of her cock to the tip; she took her time stroking her. “Fuck kitten, ahhh please ahhh”, Clawdeen groaned.

Her emerald eyes never left hers; she watched the wolf with desire. She was mesmerised by her features and how thick her throbbing cock felt between her fingertips. She could feel the thick veins and the warmth of her precum as she used her hand to coat her shaft.

“Please, what?” she smiled, watching the werewolf struggle, her tongue slightly out, panting and moaning. Her pussy clenched in jealousy, she wanted to feel Clawdeen inside her, but like a good old-fashioned cat, she just loved watching her prey tick and struggle as she pushed boundaries.

The school bell rang, shattering Clawdeen's lustful instincts. ‘What was she even doing here? She collected her senses and pushed away from the werecat. 

Just as Clawdeen reached the door, a sudden force slammed her into the wall. The impact rattled through her bones, claws instinctively scraping against the plaster. She whipped her head around, amber eyes blazing—only to meet the furious emerald glare of a werecat.

Toralei’s pupils were blown wide, fangs bared, claws unsheathed and trembling with restraint. Her striped tail lashed wildly, cracking the air like a whip.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Toralei hissed, her voice low and dangerous.

The sheer audacity of it—the arrogance—ignited Clawdeen’s temper like dry tinder. Heat roared through her chest, her lips curling into a snarl.

“Says fucking who!”

Toralei tilted her chin up, unflinching. “Me.”

That was the last straw. Clawdeen’s growl ripped through the empty hallway, vibrating the air, her wolf ears flattening tight against her skull. Her rage, her restless heat, her frustration—everything coiled and snapped in that single moment.

Without thinking, she lunged.

They crashed to the floor in a tangle of claws and limbs, Clawdeen driving the werecat down hard. Dust shook loose from the ceiling as their bodies collided with the tiles. In seconds, Clawdeen had Toralei pinned—wrists pressed firm to the floor, her own body straddling the werecat’s hips.

Amber eyes locked onto green, fire to wildfire.

And Toralei… smiled.

And Toralei couldn’t help herself—an internal smile curled inside her chest. Like always, it hadn’t taken much to have Clawdeen wound tight around her claws. Getting her there was easy. Keeping her there… now that was the real game.

The werecat leaned up suddenly, biting her lip until the skin split, the sharp sting making her eyes flutter. The reaction was instant—Clawdeen’s claws sank deeper into her wrists, forcing a hiss of pain from the feline. But Toralei’s hiss melted into a shaky laugh, a tremor of delight.

Because the pain only sharpened the sight above her. The wolf towering over her, wild and furious, ears pinned and chest heaving. Even when Clawdeen burned with fury, Toralei couldn’t help but awe at her—because it was in these moments, when Clawdeen was at her rawest, that she was most breathtaking.

The copper tang of blood welled up on Clawdeens’s tongue. A trickle slid from her bitten lip, trailing over her chin. One single crimson drop broke free, splashing warm against Toralei’s cheek.

The wolf froze—eyes flickering, breath catching.

And then—

Their mouths collided.

Hot. Fast. Desperate.

Fangs clicked and scraped, lips bruised against each other, the kiss a violent clash more than a meeting. They broke only for the barest breaths, moans swallowed into each other’s throats, claws tightening their grip as if to stake claim.

The classroom floor beneath them may as well have dissolved, because in the heat of the moment, there was nothing else but lust and fangs and the war they both refused to surrender.

Then the second bell rang.

Her senses snapped back like a whip. What was she doing? Was she really about to give in to this? What would her friends think—her family? Her reputation?

As quickly as the fire had ignited, it flickered out, smothered by a wave of cold realisation. She was sinking into lust, drowning in it, and for a moment, it felt too much. Toralei’s claws still burned faint trails against her skin, her lips swollen from kisses that tasted like wildfire, and those jade eyes—sultry, pleading, dangerous—kept pulling her deeper.

But Clawdeen’s chest constricted. She knew she shouldn’t be here. This wasn’t meant to happen....again.

She ripped herself away, rough and sudden.

“What are you doing?” Toralei’s voice cracked the air, a mixture of anger and something more fragile beneath it. She pushed herself upright, ears pinned back, claws trembling.

Clawdeen stood frozen for a beat, her breathing ragged, heart thundering against her ribs. Finally, she managed, “I need to go.”

And just like that—she turned and left.

Toralei sat there, staring at the empty doorway, the silence roaring louder than the bell. Anger surged hot through her veins, tangled with confusion that cut sharper than claws. Used—that’s what it felt like. Used and discarded. One minute, Clawdeen was kissing her like there was no tomorrow; the next, she was gone. A stranger.

Chapter Text

She had to act normal. She had to.
But the burn beneath her ribs refused to be ignored. She shoved the ache to the back of her mind, teeth clenched, jaw working like a stubborn trap. She would not falter. She would not fall apart over an orange cat—no matter how tempting. Not now. Not after everything she’d fought for.

She tightened her fist until her claws bit into her skin. If anyone found out, it would cost her everything—every stitch of reputation, every scrap of pride she’d built up. So she walked on, shoulders squared, forcing each step to be ordinary.

But the world had turned up its volume. The click of her heels on tile sounded too loud. The dusty smell of the lockers felt intrusive. Even the tiny spider weaving its delicate web in the shadowed corner seemed like an accusation. Clawdeen bit the inside of her cheek until the taste of iron steadied her, inhaled once, and smoothed herself like armor.

“Hey, sis.”

Clawd’s voice was easy and warm as he waved, amber eyes bright, a casual smile tugging at his lips. Running into him wasn’t unusual—he’d been dating her vampire friend more than usual lately—yet today his presence prickled at her like a persistent flea.

“Hi, Clawd,” she answered, tone clipped with effort. She meant to hide the edge; it kept slipping through.

“You good, sis?” he asked, studying her.

“I’m fine. What do you want?” Her words were sharper than intended; she hated how brittle they sounded.

Clawd held up his hands, harmless. “Just checking. Who’s been pissing in your kibble this time?”

“Clawd—” She ground her teeth together. “I said I’m fine. Drop it.”

“Okay, okay,” he said, smiling a little too easily. “Whatever you say.”

She picked up her pace and passed him, leaving him scratching his head in mild confusion. He shrugged and walked on, unaware of how her gait had changed, unaware of the small, quiet war playing out behind her eyes.

And as he drifted away, Clawdeen let out a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding—and kept walking, the ache folding tight beneath her ribs like something she’d learned to carry alone.

“Come on, ghoul, focus,” Clawdeen muttered under her breath, her claws curling into her palms. “She can’t get the best of you.”

But her mind refused to listen. No matter how hard she tried, it kept drifting back to her—that orange fur, those jade-green eyes that gleamed like mischief itself. The memory clung to her like static.

She shook her head sharply, trying to banish the image. No. Never again. She promised herself she wouldn’t let the feline crawl back under her skin. But her heart betrayed her, pounding faster at just the thought of Toralei’s smirk.

“Snap out of it, Clawdeen,” she whispered, pressing a hand against her chest as if she could steady the storm inside. “You’re stronger than this.”

“Hey, Clawdeen…” Frankie’s voice wavered as she caught up to her in the hallway. “I’m really sorry about earlier. Forgive me?”  Her bolts flickered nervously, and she smiled in that awkward, guilty way like a puppy begging for forgiveness.

Clawdeen sighed, crossing her arms but softening as she looked at her friend. “I forgive you, ghoul—but that wasn’t cool.”

“I know, I know!” Frankie groaned, her circuits sparking again. “Those werecat twins just—ugh—they make me lose control of myself sometimes.”

Clawdeen chuckled lightly, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I know, trust me. But let’s not let them mess up our friendship, alright?”

“They could never,” Frankie said quickly, shaking her head. “I just… I got scared. I thought one of them might try something with Holt—or Jackson.”

Clawdeen smirked. “Maybe just talk to them, see what they say before you jump to conclusions. Or, you know, before Spectra gets the scoop first.”

Frankie laughed softly. “You’re right.”

Clawdeen arched a brow playfully. “Aren’t I always?”

Frankie opened her arms, hopeful. “Hug?”

Clawdeen rolled her eyes but smiled. “Of course, ghoulfriend.”

They wrapped each other in a tight embrace. This—this—was what their friendship was about: standing by each other, even through the shocks and sparks. Clawdeen understood how raw feelings could get, especially when it came to love and jealousy. But she’d never say that out loud.

“Come on, ghoul,” Clawdeen said, pulling away with a grin. “Let’s head to class before the others start gossiping without us.”

“Right behind you!” Frankie beamed, her bolts flickering again—this time with relief instead of stress—as the two walked down the hall, side by side like always.

______________________

That night, Clawdeen swore she’d keep it together.

She paced her room like a caged beast, her skin hot under her fur, her mind fogged and fractured. She couldn’t concentrate. Every word around her felt far away, distant. Her body was too loud.

Her heat pulsed through her with a rhythm she couldn’t silence. She was agitated, restless, burning—and worst of all, she was alone with it.

Maybe if I just rest, she told herself, sinking into her bed. Maybe if I sleep, it'll pass.

But sleep did not soothe her.

It only summoned her.

In the haze of her dream, the forest shimmered silver beneath the moonlight. The full moon loomed enormous in the twilight sky, casting everything in a ghostly glow. Stars curled around it like an ancient constellation—a sky built to awaken the beast within her.

The energy in the air wasn’t just electric. It was alive. It fed her blood, made it sing beneath her skin. Her eyes glowed gold in the shadows, her claws flexing from her fingers, her body low to the earth.

She was hunting.

Every part of her body moved with silent precision—ears flicking, nose twitching, breath sharp and eager. The woods rustled, leaves whispering secrets in the wind. Then—movement.

She froze.

The bushes shifted again. A flicker. A blur. And then—

A flash of orange.

A flash of stripes.

Her.

“You can’t catch me,” came the unmistakable voice, sing-song and smug.

Toralei.

She darted through the trees, agile and elegant on all fours. Her copper-striped fur glinted under the moonlight, her tail a streak of fire behind her. She didn’t just run—she dared.

Clawdeen let out a snarl and gave chase, the wild wind tearing through her curls, muscles igniting with the thrill of the hunt. Her breath was heavy, every exhale thick with need, hunger, want. She pushed faster, harder. The world blurred around her until there was nothing but the scent—her scent—and the beat of paws and heart.

Then—

She leapt.

With a guttural growl, Clawdeen tackled Toralei mid-sprint, their bodies colliding and rolling into the underbrush. Her arms locked tight around the feline’s waist, claws digging just enough to leave a mark. Toralei hissed, then let out a sound between a yowl and a purr.

And then she arched—her back curving, her hips rising, her body inviting.

“I know what you want,” she whispered, voice breathy and defiant.

Clawdeen’s breath hitched.

Every nerve in her body screamed, her thoughts blurred into static. She didn’t want to want her. She hated her—loathed her smug grin, her ruthless tongue, her power over her.

And yet...

Toralei’s scent wrapped around her like velvet.

The tension between them wasn’t just thick—it was unbearable. It crackled like a live wire, daring either of them to snap.

“Don’t you want to hear me purr for you?”Toralei whispered.

Clawdeen’s jaw clenched, a growl erupting deep in her throat. She felt the heat more between her, she looked down to see her member had fully formed. Precum dripping down her length. It was pulsing; she hated it. The growl erupted through her body, almost shattering another noise. 

The feline face on the ground, she pushed her tail to one side, giving her access to her entry. She was soaked and begging with need. 

“Please, Deeniee, I need you”

Clawdeen broke. 

She lined herself up to Toralei's entrance. She had a beautiful view of the werecat's ass; there were so many stripes, like hand-painted delicately like a canvas. Toralei had all the right curves in all the right places. 

She grabbed her cock and gave it a slow stroke with her hand. She howled at the moon. Toralei was yowling with need. She can smell Toralei's heat; the poor ghoul was in distress, and she needed the wolf to breed her. 

She pushed herself into the feline. Toralei moaned. “ Fuck, give it to me ~”. Clawdeen moved her hips on a slow rhythm, feeling her wewcat's pussy squeezing her cock. 

“Hhmmm, you're so tight", the werewolf grunted.

She held tight onto the feline hips as the speed of thrust started to increase. Everything about this was delicious; she couldn't stop, pounding harder. She was mad. Fearl. Obsessed. She wanted more. She began to pant, her face feeling the midnight breeze; this moment swallowed her whole. It had consumed any control she had left.

“Please don't stop". Toralei yowled. She arched her back even further, pushing her hips close to meet the wolf's lustful thrust. She took her other hand and started to rub her sensitive clit. She was overwhelmed with all these pleasure sensations. The poor werecat wanted to be used, and Clawdeen was glad to do so. 

She rutted like her life depended on her. She can feel herself getting close, her hand gripping tighter, each thrust meeting the feline's ass, each sound of their skin slapping, draws her away from sanity. Each lustful inhale, this twist of aroma that filled the twilight sky. 

She was lost in the haze.

“Ahhh, Clawdeen - mmmhh I am sooo - ahh”

The werecat's eyes rolled back slightly as she felt herself at the edge of her orgasm. The sensation of the wolf hitting her sweet spot over and over. 

“Oh Toralei~ I ahh– am gonna cum ”

“Yes-yes–ahh please cum please~inside me, breed me”

Clawdeen jolted awake, her chest heaving as she gasped for breath. Cold sweat clung to her skin, trickling in slow beads down her temples and neck. The dream still wrapped around her mind like smoke—its images flickering behind her eyelids even as they fluttered open.

Her heart pounded in her chest, violently, like it was trying to claw its way out. Her legs shifted beneath the sheets, and that’s when she felt it—the lingering pulse, the dull ache between her thighs, the unbearable heat that hadn’t faded with sleep.

She swallowed hard.
The taste was still there.
The phantom sensation of the feline's pussy, claws, and the way her breath hit her ear. It lingered.
And worse… so did the mess.

Clawdeen kicked off her blanket with a growl of frustration. The sheets were damp, clinging to her skin. She stared at the ceiling, trying to will the heat away, to erase the vivid imprint of her—Toralei’s scent, her voice, the weight of her body above—

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me," Clawdeen muttered through gritted teeth.

She raked a clawed hand through her sweat-damp curls, her nails grazing her scalp.
It was just a dream.
Just a stupid, primal, infuriating dream.
But her body didn’t know the difference.

And that made her hate it even more.

She gazed down at her shorts with amber eyes. In spite of her hardness, she was aware of what her body craved. In a state of reluctance, she reached under her shorts. Her body needed this; she was almost surprised at how aroused she was. She was a mess under those emerald eyes. Those eyes that gleamed with feline mischief and mystery, framed by perfect orange stripes that seemed to dance under the dim light. Every purr, every teasing flick of Toralei’s tail tangled deeper around Clawdeen’s mind until her thoughts were nothing but static and heartbeat.

How could she compete with that?

Toralei wasn’t just beautiful—she was chaos in a velvet dress, danger wrapped in charm. Every tilt of her head, every lazy half-smile was a challenge. And Clawdeen, for all her pride and growl, was losing—utterly, embarrassingly losing.

Her hand was wrapped around her cock as she stroked, while groaning. As she rubbed it to its full length, thinking about the werecat, she hummed and groaned. The werewolf moved her hands in a slow rhythm, almost taunting herself. She fucked into her hand slowly and hard, cum dripping down her hand, squeezing. As she approached an orgasm, her breathing became shallow. She closed her eyes and began to breathe harder as she imagined Toralei crawling on all fours, her rough tongue wrapped around her cock. 

“Toorraaleei” Groaning as more cum spills down her thigh,  her hand wrapped around her cock covered in her own body fluid. Although she didn’t want to say her name, how could she not—when just the sight of her brought that wild, aching pull that clawed at every nerve?

Every inhale was filled with her scent—sweet, sharp, dangerous—and Clawdeen felt her composure slipping, unravelling strand by strand. Her claws twitched at her sides, fighting the urge to reach out, to feel that warmth, that fur, that heartbeat that called to her like the moon itself.

It wasn’t fair. Toralei had no right to look at her like that, no right to stir something so deep it felt primal. The werewolf could feel her instincts stirring, her chest rising and falling too quickly, heat flooding through her veins.

Her mind screamed to stop—to fight it, to remember the rivalry, the games, the chaos—but her body had already decided otherwise. Every instinct in her wanted to claim, to touch, to lose control completely.

______________________________________

Chapter Text

Toralei wasn't having much luck holding in her desires for the werewolf; it frustrated her, but it also …excited her.

That scent It clung to her—wrapped around her like silk and smoke, winding into her mind and refusing to let go. It touched something deep, something primal she hadn't known existed until now. It was maddening.

She became fixated, consumed. Her feline instincts sharpened like claws unsheathed, heightened beyond reason. Every time that familiar wolfish aroma drifted past, it dragged her under. It wasn’t just a scent anymore—it was her scent. Clawdeen’s.

She was like a ghost that followed Toralei in the shadows—unseen, yet ever-present. Haunting her waking hours. And at night? It was worse. In dreams, Toralei could taste her. Not just the scent, but her want, her need, the feral heat that Clawdeen tried so hard to suppress but couldn't hide.

And Toralei didn't want her to.

Those amber eyes—glowing like lanterns in the dark—called to her like a curse. They hypnotised her, lured her in with every narrowed glare and defiant spark. And her lips... full, defiant, made to be kissed—no, teased. Bitten.

The desire clawed through Toralei’s chest like wildfire.

Clawdeen was a problem.

Toralei’s fingers drifted slowly down her abdomen, each touch delicate—reverent—as if retracing a memory etched into her skin. Her breath hitched, shallow and quick, as the ghost of that night returned in vivid, aching detail.

The way Clawdeen had touched her. Claimed her.

It hadn’t been gentle. No—it was raw. Passionate. Wild like a storm that neither of them could outrun. And Toralei didn’t want to. She had surrendered, body and pride, under the weight of the werewolf’s need. And in that surrender, she had found something terrifyingly addictive.

Now, in the quiet hush of her room, she relived it. Every snarl. Every press of lips. Every shiver that had raced down her spine. Her thighs clenched as the heat bloomed again, thick and consuming between her legs.

The way Clawdeen growled her name—it wasn’t fair.

That sound, deep and primal, would slither up Toralei’s spine and make her knees threaten to buckle. It ignited something wild inside her, something she hated admitting was addictive. It wasn’t just a name anymore—it was a claim, whispered in a voice that rumbled like a storm just before it hit.

And when they kissed… it wasn’t gentle.

It was a battle.

Mouths colliding like a clash of wills. Lips bruising, teeth grazing, hands gripping. Desire tangled in defiance. Dominance laced with desperation. Each kiss was a question. Each kiss was a dare.

And Toralei hated the wolf for it.

She hated the strength in her arms—the way Clawdeen could pin her with nothing more than a shove, with fire behind her eyes and a snarl on her lips. The way she could break her if she wanted to.

But the worst part?

Toralei liked it. Craved it. She liked knowing she could provoke Clawdeen. Poke the beast. Wait for the inevitable.

It was a game.

Her game.

Her fingers drifted down to her lower abdomen, slow and deliberate—soft, featherlight touches grazing over her copper-striped fur. She traced invisible patterns, each swirl and stroke a whisper of memory, of want. Her claws didn't scratch. They caressed. This wasn’t about hunger. Not now. It was about feeling.

And when she thought of Clawdeen…

Maybe—just maybe—she’d be gentle.

Maybe, in those quiet, private moments, the wolf would touch her like this: calm, reverent, careful. Like she was something to be held, not broken. Loved, not dominated. The thought curled around Toralei’s chest like warm smoke.

Clawdeen’s voice came back to her, not in a growl this time, but in that low, steady murmur she only used when they were alone. That melody—sweet as midnight rain and just as rare. Toralei held onto it like a secret only she could hear, a sound tucked into the corners of her soul.

"Kitten… you make me feel sooo good~."

Oh, growl. Just the memory of those words made her thighs press together, made her purr without even realising. It wasn’t just what Clawdeen said—it was how she said it. The husk in her voice, the raw honesty.

It made Toralei proud. Like she’d earned that praise. Like she had done good.

She started to spread her thighs, making room for her hand and seeking the growing warmth between them. When she closed her eyes, she was there that night. They found themselves arguing, and they happened to get locked in one of the classrooms. Both of werecreatures cycles had started; usually they would have suppressants, but the one time they didn't take the heat was on. 

It was always her name.

At first, Clawdeen would growl it through clenched teeth, thick with fury—Toralei.A warning. A threat. A promise of a fight.

But now? That same growl dripped with lust. Dark and honeyed, like velvet caught on claws.

And all Toralei had done was tease her—just a little smirk, a few sharp words, a touch too long in passing. That’s all it took before Clawdeen snapped.

Before the wolf pounced.

And Toralei welcomed it. Every heated second.

They crashed together like thunder and flame—fangs clashing, lips bruising, bodies desperate. Clawdeen’s tongue invaded her mouth with brutal grace, tasting every inch like she owned it, like she earned it. She took control, and Toralei didn’t just let her—she offered herself.

That proud little swish Toralei always did with her tail in anger? Gone. Instead, it curled possessively around Clawdeen’s leg. A silent claim. Not just playful anymore. Something deeper. Territorial.Primal.

She wanted to be ruined. Stripped of every ounce of dignity, of that biting sarcasm, that practised control. Behind that door, far from the world, Toralei whimpered. She begged. 

Not for mercy.

But for more.

Her fingers were teasing her wet, slick entrance, her breath becoming shallower, and she reminisced about it. She can taste Clawdeen on her, her fierce bites, not hard to draw blood, but hard to feel the pinch of pain and pleasure.

It all happened so fast, clothes flew off with each kiss and bite, and she felt something she hadn't expected. Her body rubbed against the hard surface between Clawdeen's legs, eliciting wolf moans. They rubbed against one another faster and harder, seeking friction that would push them over the edge. Although she wasn't able to see it, she could feel it. As she grinds down even harder, she becomes a mess, her legs spread, her hips moving, unable to resist the hardness.

Clawdeen flipped the feline over onto her stomach. “I didn't take you to be a desperate little kitten” Her lips hovered just slightly above the feline's ear, and her body pressed against the werecat's rear.. All Toralei could do was moan. She was hopeless; every snarky comment washed away from the shore. Every pride she had left her body. 

With her claws, she removed the last piece of clothing off Toralei. It was a view, her stripes adorned her body like art, those copper stripes.

Clawdeen’s claw trailed slowly along one of Toralei’s stripes, her touch agonizingly gentle. “Mmm, kitten,” she murmured, her voice dipping into a husky growl, thick with heat, “I want to count every last stripe on your body…”

Her claw paused, then traced another path, darker, slower.

“I want to rearrange them…” she whispered, her lips brushing close to Toralei’s ear, “and then put them back exactly where they belong.”

Toralei’s breath hitched. Her spine arched instinctively, eyes fluttering shut as a soft, involuntary moan escaped her lips.

Was this just lust—raw, animalistic, charged like a lightning storm?
Or… was it something deeper? Something dangerous?

A part of her—one she wasn’t ready to admit existed—felt like Clawdeen meant every word. And that scared her more than she’d ever admit.

Clawdeen began to thrust, her hard cock stretching her tight pussy. The feline meows loudly. “Fuck kitten.. you feel sooo good”. 

Toralei nodded, her lips could hardly form words; all that came out were moans, whimpers, and cries. In the erratic rhythm, their bodies clash, she can feel the wet pool between her legs, and hear the wolf growling as she grunts. Pushing her ass back, she met the werewolf's deep thrust. 

Her cunt is squeezing around her thick shaft. Her claws scraping on the floor of the classroom, she dared not think of anyone intruding, but at the same time, she simply didn't care; her dignity was Clawdeen’s. All she wanted now was to be hers.

She can feel the werewolf's body pressed against her back as the wolf rutted into her. Just heavy breathing and moans. That arousal that filled her lungs, it was intoxicating, it was drugged.

 She pushed her head back only to feel a firm hand around her neck, not strangling, but just holding her there. Toralei didn't notice, but she started to purr loudly. “You're taking me sooo well, kitten, are you purring for me,?” 

Toralei gasped at this newfound feeling of pleasure that surged through her body like ecstasy. “ Yes, yes Fuck me! Breed me!” Clawdeen began to thrust harder into her.  The werewolf's fingers slipped to her mouth. Toralei submitted, sucking the taste of her fingers in her mouth.

“Such a good kitten”

Clawdeen growled as she held her hips in her tighter grip, her claws digging into her soft fur. She buried her face in the crook of the feline's neck. Toralei can feel her thrusting deeper and harder, every inch of the wolf cock, in and out. She was moaning loudly, tears streaming down her cheeks over overwhelmed by all these pleasurable sensations.

Toralei inserted her fingers into her pussy. She gasped at the feeling, but her  pussy craved for something bigger, wild and feral. She craved Clawdeen, her heats are now unbearable, nothing.. No one can push her off the edge like she can. She cried in frustration, she cried in anger. Worst of all, she cried in need. 

Toralei lay sprawled on her back in bed, eyes fixed to the cracked ceiling above her. The room was still, the only movement the slow flick of her tail curling and uncurling by her thigh.

The shadows on the ceiling didn't move. Neither did she.

And still, she could feel it—like a ghost haunting her skin. The memory of claws grazing down her back. The searing warmth of breath against her throat. That goddamn growl that vibrated through her bones like a warning, a promise, and a threat all at once.

No matter what she did—no matter how much she teased, no matter how many nights she tried to find that same fire somewhere else, alone in the quiet—nothing came close.

Clawdeen had taken her to a place no one else had.

Not even herself.

She shut her eyes tight, her jaw clenching. She couldn’t reach it. That unbearable peak of pleasure, that height that Clawdeen had taken her to like it was nothing. A fingertip away, yet slipping through her claws every time she tried to chase it alone.

The finish line.

That’s what it felt like.

A twisted, feral race she never intended to join—but now she was halfway down the track, sprinting at full speed, panting, trembling, desperate to catch what she couldn’t name.

But this wasn’t a game anymore.

Not really.

This was something else now. Darker. Sharper. More dangerous.

And Clawdeen?

Clawdeen wasn’t playing fair.

Acting cold and distant. 

Like Toralei didn’t exist.

Like none of it had happened.

Like Clawdeen hadn’t kissed her like she was made of blood and moonlight.

The ache in her chest tightened. The fire that usually danced in her emerald eyes dulled under the weight of frustration.

She curled slightly on her side, clutching her pillow—not with desire this time, but with something raw. The crack in her armour was widening, and she didn’t know how long before it broke her open completely