⋆·˚ ༘ * WOLFPACK HEADCANONS 𐚁̸.ᐟ — you take them lingerie shopping with you.
synopsis: how they'd react if they went shopping with their s/o and they see them looking for a new pair of lingerie/cute underwear.
pairing/s: paul lahote, jacob black, embry call, quil ateara, jared cameron, seth clearwater, sam uley, leah clearwater
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paul lahote
paul wasn’t even paying attention to what aisle you wandered into until he noticed you slow down, then stop, in front of a wall of lace, silk, and soft pastel fabrics.
at first, his brow twitches. confusion turns to amusement fast. “wait—this is what you were looking for?” he asks, voice low and already laced with mischief.
when he sees you pick up a delicate little set. lace-trimmed, pale blush, his entire demeanor changes.
smirk mode: activated.
he steps closer, arms folded across his broad chest, head tilted slightly as he watches you pretend to inspect tags. “i mean… if you’re trying to kill me, just say so.”
he doesn’t get shy. not paul. if anything, he enjoys the idea that you’re looking at something sexy for yourself because he’s the one who gets to see it.
picks up a darker, more sultry pair and holds it out to you with a grin: “this one. definitely this one. you should try it on. for research purposes.”
if you so much as blush? he’s thrilled. will lean in and murmur something like, “don’t get all shy on me now. you started this, sweetheart.”
absolutely insists on buying it for you and wants to carry the bag out, pride written all over his face. you’re his girl, and he’s not quiet about how lucky he is.
jacob black
jacob’s totally content following you around the store, not really paying attention, until you veer off into a corner he wasn’t expecting.
the lingerie section.
his steps immediately falter. he doesn’t want to seem weird about it, but the moment he sees you scanning a rack of lacy bralettes, his ears turn bright red.
“uh… this the right aisle?” he asks, trying to sound casual, even though his voice cracks a little at the end.
you don’t even respond, you’re already holding up a set to inspect. and that’s when jacob’s brain starts to short-circuit.
he can’t stop glancing. can’t stop imagining. you in something soft and sheer, maybe in his hoodie right after.
“you… you’d look really good in that,” he mumbles without meaning to. the second he realizes it, he groans and covers his face. “shit, forget i said that.”
you laugh, and that only makes him more flustered. you teasing him? game over.
“this is so unfair,” he grumbles under his breath. “you’re not even doing anything, and i’m losing my mind over here.”
he walks out of the store with his arm around your shoulders and the most intense internal monologue of all time.
embry call
embry’s always been a little awkward with attention, especially when it comes to you. so when you intentionally drag him into the underwear section while out shopping? he’s already sweating.
he tries to play it cool. tries to keep his hands in his pockets, tries to hum some tune and look away. but he fails instantly the second you lift up something silky and say, “do you think this color would look good on me?”
he makes a choked noise. his whole body jerks slightly like he’s been electrocuted.
“i—uh—y-yeah. that’d look amazing. wait—i mean good. just—good. totally appropriate.”
he’s so red in the face. you could probably fry an egg on his cheek.
he peeks at the tag like he’s examining battle strategy, then whispers, “are you getting that for…you know. wearing around the house? or…like. just…wha—what’s the purpose?”
you tease him about being flustered and he covers his eyes.
but even through the nerves, he genuinely thinks you’re beautiful no matter what you wear. so when you ask which one he likes, he points to something soft, cozy-looking, not too flashy.
“this one,” he says quietly, handing it to you like it’s a sacred artifact. “you’d be comfortable in it. and you’d still make my heart stop.”
jared cameron
jared walks into the lingerie section like it’s the highlight of his day.
he’s not shy. not even close. “oh, we’re going in here? finally,” he jokes, grinning.
the moment you start flipping through the hangers, he’s already at your side, picking out options. “okay, but look at this one. it’s got your name all over it.”
jared treats it like a fun game. he’ll toss out ridiculous suggestions just to make you laugh, then sneak in one that actually makes you blush.
“you keep reacting like that and i will ask you to try it on right now,” he teases, voice low and teasingly serious.
he watches your face more than the clothes, lives for your flustered expressions.
if someone else walks by and gives you a look while you’re holding something sultry? jared steps closer, voice dropping: “keep lookin’ and you’ll go blind.”
he pays for it all without hesitation and tucks the bag under his arm with a proud smile.
“don’t worry, babe,” he says with a wink. “i’ll help you decide which one’s best later. in private.”
seth clearwater
poor seth. the minute he realizes you’re looking at underwear, he nearly combusts.
“oh! oh—uh—y-you’re shopping for that kind of stuff?”
he stands a full foot away from you like he might get struck by lightning just for being near a pair of lacy panties.
he keeps trying so hard not to look, but curiosity always wins.
when you hold up a cute, pastel bralette and ask what he thinks, he freezes. his mouth opens, no words come out. he just nods rapidly.
“yep. cute. definitely cute. super… lacy. i mean—lovely.”
if you tease him by grabbing something bolder, like red lace or black satin, he gasps. “that’s—um—that’s—wow. you’d—uh—you’d wear that? for… like… sleep?”
later, as you’re checking out, he tugs at your sleeve and whispers, “i think you’d look beautiful in anything… but that one? that one’s gonna live in my head forever.”
his honesty is so endearing, and his face is red the entire drive home.
quil ateara
quil’s the type to notice instantly what aisle you’re walking into and make a comment before you even grab something.
“ohhh no. you’re doing this to torture me, aren’t you?”
he follows behind you with a dramatic sigh, hands in his hoodie pockets, eyes twinkling.
“i swear, if you hold up something with bows or frilly lace, i’m going to melt into the floor.”
and then you do, and he does.
he pretends to faint. literally leans back like he’s about to collapse. “have mercy.”
picks out a ridiculous novelty pair first (think: glitter hearts), just to make you snort. but then he finds one that’s genuinely sexy, holds it up thoughtfully, and gets weirdly quiet.
“you’d look so good in this. like, dangerous.”
when you actually buy it, he jokes the whole time but his hand stays firmly at the small of your back.
that night, when you wear it? his first words are, “okay. yep. dead. you killed me. worth it.”
sam uley
sam is calm, composed, and entirely unreadable. at least on the outside.
the second you start browsing lingerie, he’s beside you with one eyebrow lifted. “lingerie shopping, huh?” he murmurs, voice deep and smooth.
there’s something in his tone that makes the back of your neck heat up.
he doesn’t tease. doesn’t get flustered. he just watches you with this quiet, intense gaze that says everything.
when you lift a black lace set to inspect, he steps closer. “you’d look stunning in that,” he says simply, like it’s a fact.
if another guy walks past and looks at you too long? sam’s hand tightens slightly on your hip. that protective, alpha instinct doesn’t sleep.
helps you find your size without hesitation and is absurdly practical, until you try to call him out on enjoying it too much.
“maybe i am,” he says, low and husky. “but you knew what you were doing bringing me here, didn’t you?”
by the time you leave, his arm is around your waist, and he’s leaning down to murmur in your ear, “you’re wearing that for me later. no arguments.”
leah clearwater
leah doesn’t usually linger in stores longer than necessary. she likes getting in, getting what she needs, and getting out. especially if the store’s crowded.
so when you pull her gently toward the lingerie section, she blinks, glances at the signs overhead, and says with a dry laugh, “oh, so we’re going there today?”
her tone’s light, a little sarcastic, but not biting because even if she doesn’t say it aloud, she’ll follow you anywhere.
she stands at your side as you browse, arms folded and eyes scanning the displays with a raised brow. you half-expect her to scoff at the lace and silk, but instead, she just murmurs, “some of this stuff looks like it’d fall apart in the wash.”
still… she lingers. quietly. watches you sift through colors and fabrics like she’s memorizing which ones you’re drawn to.
when you hold up a soft, lilac set. more cute than bold, leah’s eyes soften. she clears her throat. “that’s nice. you’d look really good in that.”
there’s no teasing in her voice, no biting remark, just quiet honesty.
and when you smile at her reaction, she shifts her weight awkwardly, glancing down. “what?” she mumbles. “i’m allowed to have taste.”
you ask if she wants to help you pick one out, and she hesitates. for a second, you think she’s going to say no but then she reaches for a muted wine-colored bralette and matching bottoms. “this one,” she says, holding it out gently. “i think it’d suit you. strong. subtle. pretty.”
she says the last word a little softer, barely audible, and you catch her biting the inside of her cheek when your eyes meet.
leah’s not used to softness, not the romantic kind. but around you, it leaks through in little glances, brief touches, and quiet protectiveness.
when you head to the register, she walks close beside you, her hand brushing yours until she just grabs it outright.
“you don’t have to dress up for me,” she murmurs once you’re alone again. “i already think you’re beautiful.”
but then, just a beat later, a small smirk tugs at her lips as she adds, “still. if you do wear that one tonight, i’m not gonna complain.”
