thinloth

She's feeling the tiny particles of moonlight, approaching fullness, galloping ever more strongly through her veins. How they are swirling madly, fueling the fury she'd been keeping under a blanket of peace for the past few days. Luckily, she isn't one of those poorer werewolves controlled by the Moon. She can transform whenever she wants, whenever she needs to. And she can control herself even at the full Moon. Which doesn't change the fact that she always feels its strong influence on her entire psychological and hormonal system. On her inner aggression and the urge to scratch, lacerate, rip to shreds... For the pure need of natural play. Because she can. Unless someone tries to forbid her from doing so. To lock her somehow. To bring her back to "hoomanish system". Then, not only she can. Then, she actually needs... Not just for herself. For them. To show them that you shouldn't play with fire, especially if you're a straw soldier. She's feeling tiny particles of moonlight dancing

He woke up, but didn't open his eyes yet. He was too tired. The dream that had burned into his mind that night was slowly visualising in his consciousness. She was with him. Almost as if she'd been there when they'd first met. So sweetly shy, yet with a mischievous spark in her eye. So girlishly innocent and yet full of a burning femininity. So alive and real... He was feeling as if he could still feel the touch of her delicate skin on his fingertips. As if her wild scent was dancing gracefully on the edge of his consciousness. Finally, Coberr reluctantly opened his eyes, leaving the memory of the dreams at the back of his eyelids, and in front of him he saw... her. She was laying beside him. In bed. In the same bed. She was silent, but her large, gleaming eyes spoke volumes of emotion that went straight to his heart. They spoke far more than any words could ever express. Smiling, he whispered: "So it wasn't a dream after all?" She responded with a gentle shake of her head and a

It was still before noon when Shotail returned on her bike, exhausted from running a few errands. The kittens greeted her with happy meows, eager to see what their mother had caught for them this time. While they quietly and happily laped, Shotail stripped off her sweat-soaked clothes, preparing for a good bath. As she looked at herself in the mirror after cleaning, different thoughts about women began to swirl in her head. Why so many of them don't cultivate their feminine beauty daily, just for themselves? Why do they so often condemn sensuality and even try to extinguish it in those who exude a confident femininity? Why do they so often put on the mask of someone they're not? For a date, for a photo shoot, for a party? And then, at home, when no one is watching, they become... something terrifying. Something they themselves don't like, don't value, don't respect... She looked into her own eyes, letting these worthless thoughts fade away. She smiled at her reflection, thus conveying