Cohost writing prompt: @Making-up-Monsters — Monster who thinks it's time to play their favourite game again
Wanda half-wakes and blearily grabs for the blankets that have somehow slid sideways off the bed, leaving her half-uncovered and cold. She hauls them back towards her, grumbling a little at their air-temperature cool, and nestles sleepily back into the pillow.
She's drifted nearly back to sleep when something nudges her legs, pauses, then returns to apply blunt bulldozer force toward the edge of the mattress. She makes a noise of outraged protest and flails at it, making another, higher-pitched noise of protest at the cold of a wet nose pushed into her palm.
"What the hell time—" she starts, and then yowls when Gemma shoves her head under the blanket to apply her cold nose everywhere else she can get to. "Hey! No! Bad Gemma!"
Gemma wags her tail, undeterred.
"It's barely six," Wanda moans, trying to shove the werewolf's head away. "What are you even—" and her girlfriend jumps over her onto the floor with a heavy thud, then props her chin on the edge of the mattress, staring adoringly at Wanda with her favourite tug-of-war rope toy in her mouth.
"...You are going to owe me footrubs for days when you have your hands back," Wanda tells her sternly.