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you can build off this if you want i jus have this fantasy and i feel like im edging myself not knowing whats gonna happen next. just imagining being in close quarters with werewolf best friend while wearing tights…for some reason limited space requires you to sit on his lap. You’re nervous and he subtly massages down your thighs, relaxing you. As the minutes pass on he coaxes your legs further and further apart and has you seated tight with your back against his chest. He keeps your clothed pussy flush against his huge hard cock in his jeans. Your friends don’t notice as your ass and hips begin to quiver and shift, causing him to press you down further. He shoves his meaty fingers down your throat to keep you quiet as he expertly shifts his own hips and uses his free hand to orient you how he needs. I just wonder how long he’d have you like that. How wet you’d be and how hard and painful his cock would be jutting into your slow, rocking pussy. I wonder how he’d address it in private, and how he’d take you once the tension finally blew again. Would he show it off to your other friends? would he make a mission of stretching and spreading every part of you like he did your thighs? Are you in a car? Watching a movie? Bonfire? So much to think about I just think the massive surface area of his huge cock and hard, muscular thighs would feel so good to just grind and wither against. Maybe you make so much of a scene your other friends decide you’re theirs for the taking.
Tight Quarters PART 1 (werewolf best friend x fem reader)
Kate: Hey moonlust crewwww and dear anon! This one was a WILD ask in the best way. It got so out of hand that I had to split it into 2 parts!!!
Note: while writing this, the werewolf (I named him Marcus) turned into a very touchy, very feral werewolf. Before I knew it, I was hard into the possessive werewolf best friend trope! Marcus has been secretly obsessed with reader forever, so there’s NO way he’s staying normal with her squirming on his lap in tights for that long or even sharing her.
Anyway, I kept the vibe focused mostly on him and reader AND I ran wild with the tension and the 'finally snapping after holding back too long' energy!!!
Hope you enjoy this one as much as I enjoyed writing it and stay tuned for part 2 with more smut 😭 Hugs!!!
Summary: A mountain cabin. A sudden storm. Your werewolf best friend's lap is the only seat left. What could go wrong? Everything.
TW: NSFW, submitted compliance, public semi-public, size difference, grinding, dry-humping with clothes on, mouth fingering, super pro max possessive behavior, primal, sexual tension.
GO TO PART 2
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The cabin had seemed like a good idea three days ago.
A cozy retreat. Wood-paneled walls. A stone fireplace. Friends gathered together.
Perfect weekend.
Then the sky split open.
The rain started before sunset. By midnight, the roads were flooding and the power kept flickering hard enough to make everyone nervous. Leaving was impossible. Trees had fallen somewhere down the main road.
Thunder cracked.
Then the power flickered.
Once. Twice.
Then nothing.
Darkness swallowed the living room.
"Shit." Marcus's voice rumbled from somewhere behind you, that deep growl that did things to you. "That's it. Power's out for real this time."
Your other friends groaned from their spots scattered around the living room; Sarah curled on the loveseat, Derek sprawled on the rug, Jenna and Tom sharing the armchair by the dimmed fireplace.
But you? You'd been the last one through the door when the storm hit, which meant the only spot left was the corner of the small couch. The corner already occupied by Marcus's massive frame.
Your best friend since freshman year. The person who knew every embarrassing thing about you (well... almost everything). The werewolf who'd grown from lanky, awkward teenager into a muscled beast with dark fur and emerald eyes that made your mouth dry.
He'd patted the cushion next to him when you'd hesitated. "Come on. Promise I don't bite."
You'd perched there nervously at first, your weight barely grazing his denim-clad leg, body angled awkwardly so you wouldn't have to touch him. You wore tights, black tights because Jenna said casual night, but they fucking squeaked against the worn couch fabric as you shifted.
"Settle," Marcus whispered so the others wouldn't hear. His hand found your hip, fingers spreading across. "You're gonna fall off like that."
"I'm fine."
"You're trembling."
Were you? You couldn't tell anymore. His body heat rolled off him in waves, that particular warmth and musk he gave off, and every small adjustment you made brought some new part of you into contact with some new part of him.
Lightning cracked.
Sarah squealed.
Derek snorted.
And Marcus's hand slid from your hip to your thigh. Resting there. His palm cupped the outer curve of your leg through those stupid, stupid tights. His thumb stroked absent circles against the fabric. The motion hypnotic. Unthinking.
He doesn't know what he's doing, you told yourself. It's just Marcus. He's always been tactile. He's always touched you without thinking.
But his thumb traced higher. Then lower. And your muscles started unknotting without your permission. Your spine softened. Your pelvis tilted backward. Your body curved toward him like a flower seeking sunlight.
"You're wound tight," he observed, still pitched for your ears only. "When's the last time someone took care of you?"
"Marcus—"
"Shh. Just breathe."
Another crack of thunder.
You jumped. Your shoulder blades met his chest. And his arm came around you.
Oh.
Oh no.
His cock was already half-hard against your lower back. A thick bar of heat that nudged against you when he shifted, pulling you deeper into the cradle of his body. Your breath caught in your throat and stuck there.
"There you go," he purred. "That's better."
While you hyperventilated, his hand continued moving.
Up your thigh. Down. Wider each time, coaxing your legs apart millimeter by millimeter. Until you realized you were practically sitting back on him, your knees spread open, your tights-clad pussy pressing against the ridge of his zipper.
"Marcus." Your whisper barely existed. "People can see—"
"They can't see shit. Lights out. Phones are dying. Phones are dead, actually. Look around, sweetheart."
You did.
The cabin existed in shades of gray.
No one was looking at you.
No one could see Marcus's hand on your thigh.
"See?" His thumb traced the inside of your knee. "Nobody's paying attention. So stop being afraid."
"I'm not afraid of—"
"No? Oh... I see..."
"What?"
"You smell sweet." His nose brushed your temple, inhaling. "Really sweet."
Heat flooded your face. "I—I don't know what you mean."
"Mhm." Another inhale. Longer this time. His chest expanded at your back. "You do."
His thumb pressed lightly into the inside of your thigh and you bit back a moan. "Wait..."
"There it is," he said, voice rough. "You’re not scared of the storm. So tell me what’s got you this worked up while sitting in my lap, sweetheart."
"Nothing."
He chuckled. "Liar. I can smell it. That sweet, wet pussy scent. And I know you didn't piss yourself." His thumb traced higher. "This is arousal, sweetheart. Your cunt's dripping. Leaking all over my jeans. I can feel it through the denim."
Oh god.
Your face incinerated both at his words. Your core clenched. Fuck, he was right. More slick bloomed between your thighs, soaking through the thin gusset of your panties, darkening the tights above your seam.
"Why?" he murmured. "You can tell me. I'm your best friend."
That's the problem.
Your throat closed around the words. You'd been hiding this for years. You liked him. Had always liked him. Because of him, your dreams had turned into something you couldn't admit to yourself, let alone to him. The way you'd touch yourself at night, imagining his hands, his mouth, his—
"I... I don't know..."
"Bullshit."
"Wh—no, I didn’t—" you stammered.
"Shhh, easy now," he soothed. "I need to check. Make sure you're okay. Spread those legs for me."
You hesitated, biting your lip, but instinct and hunger made you obey. Shyly, you parted your thighs more. He tutted and his hands hooked under your knees, prying your legs wider apart and outside his.
"Like that. Good girl."
Behind you, his muscular hips shifted.
The hard column of his cock, (and god the sheer size of the thing) nudged the cradle of your ass. You felt it jump against you as he settled deeper into the couch. His free hand came up to your waist, fingers splaying across your stomach, and he pulled you flush against his chest.
"Feel that?"
He rolled his hips. Just a small, testing movement.
His cock dragged against your pussy through all those layers. Denim. Tights. Panties. Still, you felt the inhuman thickness pressing against your clothed slit like it wanted to split you open right then and there.
"Fuck... mmhp!"
He covered your mouth before another sound escaped. Shoved two thick digits past your lips and pressed down on your tongue.
"Don't want them hearing how desperate you are, do you?"
In the dim glow of someone's dying phone—Sarah's, probably, because she'd been conserving battery, you could see the room. Sarah scrolling, oblivious. Derek still watching the rain. Jenna and Tom tangled together in the armchair.
No one was looking.
No one saw Marcus's hand slide down your belly, over the mound of your pubic bone, until two thick fingers pressed directly against the soaked fabric covering your clit. You whimpered mutely and wiggled on his lap.
"Be good," he murmured, his finger pulling away from your clit. "Why are you trying to run from me?"
"’m not—" you mumbled through the fingers in your mouth.
"You are."
His nose skimmed behind your ear, breathing you in again.
"You know the funny thing?" he said softly. "You started soaking through those little tights the second you sat beside me."
"No-mphhh!"
"You did." His fingers pumped in your mouth, ruining your ability to think. "Been feeling you squirm this whole time. Every time you shifted, your cunt leaked a little more. By the time the lights went out, you'd already soaked through."
"St-op... mphh... teasing..."
"But it's cute." His fingers danced over your tongue. "You were perfectly fine around everybody else tonight. Laughing. Eating popcorn. Playing board games like a normal person." His hips rolled again, grinding his length against your seam. "Then you sit on my lap and suddenly you're a mess."
You whined low, hit by the absolute truth of his words.
He smiled against your skin. "You wanna know what that tells me, sweetheart?"
You couldn’t answer. Your teeth had sunk into his fingers, your hips moving without your permission.
"It tells me this isn’t the storm making you wet.” His mouth brushed your temple. "It’s me."
You couldn't answer. You gyrated slightly, rocking against him. Your ass grinding against his lap, your tights-slick pussy dragging across his trapped cock, seeking friction, anything to ease the awful, wonderful ache building between your thighs.
Marcus's fingers returned, teasing your clit through the tights. "That's it. Use me. Take what you need."
His hips answered your rhythm. Thrusting up against you in counterpoint. And god, he got even harder; you could feel the shape of his cock clearly. The broad flare of the head. The heavy shaft. The weight of his balls.
He was huge. Bigger than any human of course, and somehow your body craved that stretch, even though you knew it would break you open.
Your thighs quivered. Your stomach clenched.
The pressure in your core built and your rocking turned frantic, while you suckled at his fingers, grateful for something to keep you quiet. He kissed your cheek. Curled his digits, caressing the soft palate of your throat.
"That's right," he rasped. "Choke on my fingers while I use this pretty cunt through your panties. You're so fucking wet I can feel it creaming."
He wasn't wrong. Your arousal had soaked through everything. The ridges of his jeans caught on your clit through the tights, sending sparks up your spine, and your eyes rolled back as he altered his angle.
"You want to cum. You want to soak through your tights and make a mess all over my cock, right here, with everyone in this room."
You shook your head frantically around his fingers.
"It's going to happen, sweetheart." He laughed darkly. "I can feel you fluttering. Your cunt's trying to milk something that isn't even inside it." His hips circled, grinding his length against your seam, and you felt the heat of him even through the denim. "You're gonna cum. But when you do, you're gonna do it quietly."
Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck—
Your orgasm overwhelmed you.
A silent, powerful thing that ripped through your spine and had your thighs trembling against his legs. Your pussy pulsed against his trapped cock, your hips rocking in staccato jerks as you rode out the pleasure on his lap.
Your mouth opened wide around his fingers but no sound came out except a muted "guhhhhh—"
Saliva spilled down his knuckles. Behind you, Marcus's entire body went rigid, his cock throbbing against your twitching pussy through the denim, and he let out a breath that was almost a whine.
"That's my good girl," he whispered, pulling his slick fingers from your mouth. Strings of spit connected his knuckles to your lower lip. "So pretty when you fall apart for me."
You slumped against his chest, panting, vision blurring at the edges. Your walls still pulsed in little aftershocks that made you clench around nothing. You could feel the wet spot you'd left on his jeans.
Suddenly, the power flickered back on.
The lights blinded you.
"Well," Sarah said, glancing up from her phone, "that was dramatic. You two okay back there?"
"I'm fine," you mumbled, hazy and embarrassed.
Thankfully, Marcus had acted before anyone could notice a thing. He'd shifted you fully into his side, one arm wrapping around your waist while the other pulled your legs across his lap. You were tucked against his chest, curled into the warmth of his chest.
His jeans were ruined.
So were you.
But nobody could see it.
"She's scared of thunder," Marcus said smoothly.
Derek snorted. "Didn't take you for the type to do cuddling, Marc."
"Everyone needs something." Marcus's voice dropped, pitched for your ears alone. "And some of us are about to get everything."
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GO TO PART 2!!!
Meanwhile, show some love if you enjoyed :) Hugs and kisses :)
Tight Quarters PART 2-FINAL (werewolf best friend x fem reader)
Summary: You have been avoiding your werewolf best friend after the intimate moment between you earlier that night. But Marcus corners you. Things get intense, physical, and very real between you.
TW: NSFW, P in V, oral (fem), fingering, possessive behavior, knotting, claiming, size difference, HEA.
GO TO PART 1
Happy reading, holy smut awaits below!
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The storm didn't stop.
And you... you became a ghost in the cabin.
Flitting from room to room, always one step ahead of Marcus. When he entered the kitchen, you suddenly needed something from another room. When he settled on the couch, you remembered something you'd left upstairs. When he looked at you, you found something fascinating to study on the opposite wall.
Candles got lit because the power was still unstable. Sarah made boxed mac and cheese while someone else burned popcorn in the microwave. You laughed at jokes you didn't hear and ate food you couldn't taste.
And through all of it, you felt Marcus watching.
When midnight came, everyone started claiming sleeping spots. One took the upstairs bedroom. Someone called the couch. A sleeping bag was rolled out near the fireplace while voices argued over blankets.
You waited until nobody paid attention before escaping to the attic.
Bad idea.
The second you stepped out into the hallway, a large hand wrapped around your wrist.
Marcus.
He didn’t say a word. Just dragged you down the hall toward the downstairs bedroom. His bedroom. You knew because it was saturated with his scent. The storm growled outside as he pulled you inside after him.
"They won't hear us down here," he said, closing the door. The lock clicked. "Not with the storm."
You stood in the center of the room, trembling, your tights ruined, your thighs sticky. The room was small; paneled walls, a pull-out couch, a single window showing nothing but rain.
Marcus circled you like the wolf he was. His dark hair was messy from running his hand through it all night. His broad shoulders tense under his gray hoodie. His beautiful green eyes glittered in the low light.
"You really thought you could ignore me all night?" he asked.
You swallowed hard. "I wasn’t ignoring you."
Marcus laughed. "Yeah? So that’s why you wouldn’t even look at me after grinding all over my lap?"
"I wasn’t grinding—"
"You came on my jeans."
Your mouth snapped shut.
He stopped directly in front of you. Towering over your smaller frame. His body blocked out the window, the door, the rest of the room.
"And then you avoided me for hours." His jaw flexed. "What exactly was your plan there?"
"I didn’t know what to do."
"You could’ve talked to me."
"I panicked!"
"You panicked?" His eyebrows lifted. "Sweetheart, you’ve been acting nervous around me for months. You think I didn’t notice?"
Your sighed. Of course he noticed. Marcus noticed everything about you.
Thunder cracked outside. Instinctively, you flinched.
"You know what pissed me off the most?" he asked quietly.
You shook your head.
"The fact you acted embarrassed." He inched even closer. "Like what happened between us was a mistake."
"It wasn’t a mistake," you mumbled before you could call the words back.
"Good," he drawled. "Because I’m done pretending this is normal best-friend shit."
Your heart hammered.
"We crossed those lines a long time ago," he said. "You know it. I know it."
He was right.
For a long time now, you'd lost track of what was normal.
The way you slept curled against him during movie nights, his arm around your waist. The way he growled at guys who flirted with you. The way his hand would linger on your thigh too long, and your fingers would trace his chest longer than they should. The way he looked at your mouth. The way you looked at his.
"I’ve wanted you for years," he admitted. "And now I know you want me too. So no." He shook his head. "I'm not backing down. You made a mess of my jeans. You take responsibility."
"I—"
"Do you know how hard I am right now?" He grabbed your hand, guided it against the front of his fly. The bulge there was obscene; a huge column straining against the denim, so large your fingers couldn't wrap around it.
"This is what you did to me. Thirty minutes of grinding that sweet little cunt against my lap, and now my cock's so fucking painful I can't think straight."
Your mouth watered.
"See something you want?" He unbuttoned his jeans. The zipper came down, tooth by tooth, and when he reached inside and pulled—
God.
His cock was huge. Thick, long and flushed dark red, the head shiny with pre-cum, thick veins running along the underside. His balls hung fat, drawn up tight against his body.
He wrapped his hand around the base and pumped. A bead of fluid leaked from the slit and dripped down the shaft.
"You're going to make it up to me," he said, stepping closer. The head of his cock nudged your hip, leaving a smear of pre-cum on your shirt. "And then you're going to remember that no one else gets to touch what's mine."
"I-I'm a free woman—"
He grabbed your jaw. His fingers dug into your cheeks.
"Free?" He laughed, and there was nothing friendly in it. "You are mine. You're not free because you have someone who belongs to you: ME. You think I'd let anyone else put their hands on you? Watch you squirm and cum?"
His thick thumb shoved past your lips. Pressed down on your tongue. You tasted his salty skin.
"Marc.... mmmhp—"
He leaned in closer. His musky scent filled your nose. Made your pussy clench.
"I'd kill them," he said, matter-of-fact. "I'd tear their throats out with my teeth before I let them see what's mine. That cunt belongs to me. These tits belong to me. Every wet, dripping sound you make, every time you clench around nothing thinking about my cock—mine."
You whimpered around his thumb. Your nipples hardened under your shirt. Heat flooded between your legs.
He released your jaw, stepped back, and smiled. "Now strip for me."
You arched a brow, smirking up at him. "Strip me yourself, wolf. You said you're mine, right? Come and take what's yours."
A deep growl and he lunged, his mouth claiming yours. His tongue coaxed your lips apart, while his hands yanked at your shirt. He peeled it off, then clawed at your bra, snapping the straps and tossing it aside. Your tights came next until you stood naked except for your drenched panties.
"What's next, sweetheart? Tell me what you want. This wolf who belongs to you. What do you want him to do?"
You gazed up at Marcus, your best friend for years, and saw something feral looking back. Was that side always there? What had you missed and why did you love it so much? This possession in his eyes. The absolute adoration. They set you on fire. He set you on fire.
"Please," you whispered.
"Please what?"
"Please fuck me. Please... I need your cock inside me. I need you to split me open on it. I've been thinking about it for months, about how big you are, about how it would feel—"
He kissed you again, all teeth and tongue, his hand fisting in your hair while the other ripped your panties down your legs. He lifted you like you weighed nothing, spun you around, bent you over the arm of the pull-out couch.
Fabric rustled behind you. His deep grunts as he stripped off his clothes. You glanced back. he was naked. Tall. Furred. Muscled. Every inch the werewolf he was. He dropped to his knees behind you, hands spreading your cheeks apart. His tongue dragged over your slick folds, making your toes curl.
"Fuck, this pussy." He lapped again. "Pretty little pussy that squirted so hard for me."
"Marcus... oh fuuuck..."
"Hold still." His tongue flicked your clit while his thick fingers probed your slit. One digit pushed in. Then a second. Stretching you wider.
You gasped, choking on a moan as he pumped them, your juices squelching around his knuckles.
"Marcus—mhnn, it's too much—"
"I know, sweetheart," he whined, pumping steadily and licking your trickling juices. "I know you're so fucking tight. Hasn't had a real cock in ages, has it? But you'll take every inch of my fat dick anyway, won't you? Because you're my good girl."
You nodded frantically.
"Words."
"Yes—fuck yes, I'll take it, just please—"
The head of his cock nudged your slit.
You'd thought you were prepared.
But nothing, nothing, could have prepared you for the way he impaled you, the burning stretch of that thick crown spreading your muscles inch by inch.
"Fuuuck," you sobbed. "Too big—can't—"
"Shh. You can." His hips rolled. Sank deeper. You moaned brokenly. "Taking me so well. Look at that—" His thumb found your clit, rubbing in circles. The pleasure-pain short-circuited your brain. "—your pretty cunt's swallowing my cock because it was made for it."
With a wet squelch, he was in. Bottomed out, his hips flush against your ass, his balls pressing against your clit. You could feel every ridge of him, every pulsing vein, the way his cock stretched your walls so wide you swore you could feel yourself in your throat.
"Inside," you gasped. "You're inside—"
"All the way." He sounded wrecked. "Feel that?" He shifted his hips, and you felt the bulge of him moving inside you. "Feel how deep I am?"
You couldn't answer.
Your mouth hung open. Drool dripped onto the couch. Your eyes rolled back.
"Hnng—fuck, you're tight—" He fucked you. Slow strokes that pulled almost all the way out before sinking back in. Your walls clenched around him, tried to hold him, and he snarled. "Shiiiit—
"Marcus—"
"Not gonna last." His hips picked up speed. The couch creaked beneath you, shoved against the wall with each thrust. "You feel too good. This perfect, wet, gripping cunt—"
He grabbed your hips. Angled you up.
The next thrust hit a spot that made stars burst behind your eyes.
"HGNNN—!" you sobbed. "Right there—oh fuck, don't stop—"
He didn't.
Brutally, his hips snapped against yours. Each stroke hammered that spot until you couldn't breathe, couldn't think, could only ride higher and higher.
SLAM. SLAM. SLAM.
"Gonna bust," he warned. "I'm gonna fill this pretty cunt up. And then I'm gonna keep you on my cock until it takes." His rhythm faltered. "Until everyone upstairs smells it on you. Until they know."
"Yes—yes—"
"From now on, you belong to me. And I belong to you. No one touches me and no one touches you. You understand?"
So filthy. So possessive.
You came on his next thrust, your whole body convulsing, your pussy milking his cock as he fucked you through it.
"Guh—guh—guh—"
"Fuck—aah—" Marcus's hips stuttered, his rhythm breaking. His cock swelled inside you, the knot at the base spreading your slit wide. You mewled at the stretch. Felt the first hot spurt of cum flood your channel. "Hnnnnng— take it—"
Splorch. Splorch. Splorch.
He kept you impaled, pumping ropes of his seed deep into your pussy while you clenched around him, taking everything he gave. His knot locked you together—it was impossible to pull out. He slumped over your back, breathing ragged.
"That," he said, "was just the beginning."
It was minutes later when his knot finally deflated. He pulled out. You winced at the emptiness and the feel of his cum dribbling down your thighs. He spun you around, kissed you wetly, and wiped his thumb through the mess between your legs.
Then he brought that thumb to your lips.
"Lick it," he demanded and you wrapped your lips around his digit, tasting yourself and him together.
"Good girl." He smiled. "Bed. I want to hold my girlfriend."
You blinked, pretending innocence. "Girlfriend?"
"You are the one and only lucky girl."
You grinned. "Lucky doesn't cover it. From besties to this? I want you forever, boyfriend. Cuddle me and knot me to sleep every night."
"Deal," he drawled, kissing your forehead. "You're stuck with me now."
Imagine your Minotaur boyfriend who loves cockwarming so much that whatever you do, he always finds an excuse to thrust up in your pussy and stay inside you, hard and warm. He doesn’t want to cum, he only wants the security and warmth of you. You go shopping? He’ll drag you in the changing room and thrust inside you, begging you to keep him warm for a few minutes. Eating together? He’ll have you sit on him and his raging dick, feed you as if he’s not buried balls deep inside you. At work? Again, he’ll have you sit on his lap, cock thrust up your depths while resuming his work as per normal. But his favorite is at night because he gets to have his cock in your pussy so damn long. His thick monstrous cock stretching your pussy, staying hard all night, you belly bulging. And he sleeps like a baby. Because he needs your pussy to keep him warm and functioning.
This imagine has turned into a series called “Cockwarming Minotaur”. Find it here.
you can build off this if you want i jus have this fantasy and i feel like im edging myself not knowing whats gonna happen next. just imagining being in close quarters with werewolf best friend while wearing tights…for some reason limited space requires you to sit on his lap. You’re nervous and he subtly massages down your thighs, relaxing you. As the minutes pass on he coaxes your legs further and further apart and has you seated tight with your back against his chest. He keeps your clothed pussy flush against his huge hard cock in his jeans. Your friends don’t notice as your ass and hips begin to quiver and shift, causing him to press you down further. He shoves his meaty fingers down your throat to keep you quiet as he expertly shifts his own hips and uses his free hand to orient you how he needs. I just wonder how long he’d have you like that. How wet you’d be and how hard and painful his cock would be jutting into your slow, rocking pussy. I wonder how he’d address it in private, and how he’d take you once the tension finally blew again. Would he show it off to your other friends? would he make a mission of stretching and spreading every part of you like he did your thighs? Are you in a car? Watching a movie? Bonfire? So much to think about I just think the massive surface area of his huge cock and hard, muscular thighs would feel so good to just grind and wither against. Maybe you make so much of a scene your other friends decide you’re theirs for the taking.
Tight Quarters PART 1 (werewolf best friend x fem reader)
Kate: Hey moonlust crewwww and dear anon! This one was a WILD ask in the best way. It got so out of hand that I had to split it into 2 parts!!!
Note: while writing this, the werewolf (I named him Marcus) turned into a very touchy, very feral werewolf. Before I knew it, I was hard into the possessive werewolf best friend trope! Marcus has been secretly obsessed with reader forever, so there’s NO way he’s staying normal with her squirming on his lap in tights for that long or even sharing her.
Anyway, I kept the vibe focused mostly on him and reader AND I ran wild with the tension and the 'finally snapping after holding back too long' energy!!!
Hope you enjoy this one as much as I enjoyed writing it and stay tuned for part 2 with more smut 😭 Hugs!!!
Summary: A mountain cabin. A sudden storm. Your werewolf best friend's lap is the only seat left. What could go wrong? Everything.
TW: NSFW, submitted compliance, public semi-public, size difference, grinding, dry-humping with clothes on, mouth fingering, super pro max possessive behavior, primal, sexual tension.
GO TO PART 2
--------------------------------
The cabin had seemed like a good idea three days ago.
A cozy retreat. Wood-paneled walls. A stone fireplace. Friends gathered together.
Perfect weekend.
Then the sky split open.
The rain started before sunset. By midnight, the roads were flooding and the power kept flickering hard enough to make everyone nervous. Leaving was impossible. Trees had fallen somewhere down the main road.
Thunder cracked.
Then the power flickered.
Once. Twice.
Then nothing.
Darkness swallowed the living room.
"Shit." Marcus's voice rumbled from somewhere behind you, that deep growl that did things to you. "That's it. Power's out for real this time."
Your other friends groaned from their spots scattered around the living room; Sarah curled on the loveseat, Derek sprawled on the rug, Jenna and Tom sharing the armchair by the dimmed fireplace.
But you? You'd been the last one through the door when the storm hit, which meant the only spot left was the corner of the small couch. The corner already occupied by Marcus's massive frame.
Your best friend since freshman year. The person who knew every embarrassing thing about you (well... almost everything). The werewolf who'd grown from lanky, awkward teenager into a muscled beast with dark fur and emerald eyes that made your mouth dry.
He'd patted the cushion next to him when you'd hesitated. "Come on. Promise I don't bite."
You'd perched there nervously at first, your weight barely grazing his denim-clad leg, body angled awkwardly so you wouldn't have to touch him. You wore tights, black tights because Jenna said casual night, but they fucking squeaked against the worn couch fabric as you shifted.
"Settle," Marcus whispered so the others wouldn't hear. His hand found your hip, fingers spreading across. "You're gonna fall off like that."
"I'm fine."
"You're trembling."
Were you? You couldn't tell anymore. His body heat rolled off him in waves, that particular warmth and musk he gave off, and every small adjustment you made brought some new part of you into contact with some new part of him.
Lightning cracked.
Sarah squealed.
Derek snorted.
And Marcus's hand slid from your hip to your thigh. Resting there. His palm cupped the outer curve of your leg through those stupid, stupid tights. His thumb stroked absent circles against the fabric. The motion hypnotic. Unthinking.
He doesn't know what he's doing, you told yourself. It's just Marcus. He's always been tactile. He's always touched you without thinking.
But his thumb traced higher. Then lower. And your muscles started unknotting without your permission. Your spine softened. Your pelvis tilted backward. Your body curved toward him like a flower seeking sunlight.
"You're wound tight," he observed, still pitched for your ears only. "When's the last time someone took care of you?"
"Marcus—"
"Shh. Just breathe."
Another crack of thunder.
You jumped. Your shoulder blades met his chest. And his arm came around you.
Oh.
Oh no.
His cock was already half-hard against your lower back. A thick bar of heat that nudged against you when he shifted, pulling you deeper into the cradle of his body. Your breath caught in your throat and stuck there.
"There you go," he purred. "That's better."
While you hyperventilated, his hand continued moving.
Up your thigh. Down. Wider each time, coaxing your legs apart millimeter by millimeter. Until you realized you were practically sitting back on him, your knees spread open, your tights-clad pussy pressing against the ridge of his zipper.
"Marcus." Your whisper barely existed. "People can see—"
"They can't see shit. Lights out. Phones are dying. Phones are dead, actually. Look around, sweetheart."
You did.
The cabin existed in shades of gray.
No one was looking at you.
No one could see Marcus's hand on your thigh.
"See?" His thumb traced the inside of your knee. "Nobody's paying attention. So stop being afraid."
"I'm not afraid of—"
"No? Oh... I see..."
"What?"
"You smell sweet." His nose brushed your temple, inhaling. "Really sweet."
Heat flooded your face. "I—I don't know what you mean."
"Mhm." Another inhale. Longer this time. His chest expanded at your back. "You do."
His thumb pressed lightly into the inside of your thigh and you bit back a moan. "Wait..."
"There it is," he said, voice rough. "You’re not scared of the storm. So tell me what’s got you this worked up while sitting in my lap, sweetheart."
"Nothing."
He chuckled. "Liar. I can smell it. That sweet, wet pussy scent. And I know you didn't piss yourself." His thumb traced higher. "This is arousal, sweetheart. Your cunt's dripping. Leaking all over my jeans. I can feel it through the denim."
Oh god.
Your face incinerated both at his words. Your core clenched. Fuck, he was right. More slick bloomed between your thighs, soaking through the thin gusset of your panties, darkening the tights above your seam.
"Why?" he murmured. "You can tell me. I'm your best friend."
That's the problem.
Your throat closed around the words. You'd been hiding this for years. You liked him. Had always liked him. Because of him, your dreams had turned into something you couldn't admit to yourself, let alone to him. The way you'd touch yourself at night, imagining his hands, his mouth, his—
"I... I don't know..."
"Bullshit."
"Wh—no, I didn’t—" you stammered.
"Shhh, easy now," he soothed. "I need to check. Make sure you're okay. Spread those legs for me."
You hesitated, biting your lip, but instinct and hunger made you obey. Shyly, you parted your thighs more. He tutted and his hands hooked under your knees, prying your legs wider apart and outside his.
"Like that. Good girl."
Behind you, his muscular hips shifted.
The hard column of his cock, (and god the sheer size of the thing) nudged the cradle of your ass. You felt it jump against you as he settled deeper into the couch. His free hand came up to your waist, fingers splaying across your stomach, and he pulled you flush against his chest.
"Feel that?"
He rolled his hips. Just a small, testing movement.
His cock dragged against your pussy through all those layers. Denim. Tights. Panties. Still, you felt the inhuman thickness pressing against your clothed slit like it wanted to split you open right then and there.
"Fuck... mmhp!"
He covered your mouth before another sound escaped. Shoved two thick digits past your lips and pressed down on your tongue.
"Don't want them hearing how desperate you are, do you?"
In the dim glow of someone's dying phone—Sarah's, probably, because she'd been conserving battery, you could see the room. Sarah scrolling, oblivious. Derek still watching the rain. Jenna and Tom tangled together in the armchair.
No one was looking.
No one saw Marcus's hand slide down your belly, over the mound of your pubic bone, until two thick fingers pressed directly against the soaked fabric covering your clit. You whimpered mutely and wiggled on his lap.
"Be good," he murmured, his finger pulling away from your clit. "Why are you trying to run from me?"
"’m not—" you mumbled through the fingers in your mouth.
"You are."
His nose skimmed behind your ear, breathing you in again.
"You know the funny thing?" he said softly. "You started soaking through those little tights the second you sat beside me."
"No-mphhh!"
"You did." His fingers pumped in your mouth, ruining your ability to think. "Been feeling you squirm this whole time. Every time you shifted, your cunt leaked a little more. By the time the lights went out, you'd already soaked through."
"St-op... mphh... teasing..."
"But it's cute." His fingers danced over your tongue. "You were perfectly fine around everybody else tonight. Laughing. Eating popcorn. Playing board games like a normal person." His hips rolled again, grinding his length against your seam. "Then you sit on my lap and suddenly you're a mess."
You whined low, hit by the absolute truth of his words.
He smiled against your skin. "You wanna know what that tells me, sweetheart?"
You couldn’t answer. Your teeth had sunk into his fingers, your hips moving without your permission.
"It tells me this isn’t the storm making you wet.” His mouth brushed your temple. "It’s me."
You couldn't answer. You gyrated slightly, rocking against him. Your ass grinding against his lap, your tights-slick pussy dragging across his trapped cock, seeking friction, anything to ease the awful, wonderful ache building between your thighs.
Marcus's fingers returned, teasing your clit through the tights. "That's it. Use me. Take what you need."
His hips answered your rhythm. Thrusting up against you in counterpoint. And god, he got even harder; you could feel the shape of his cock clearly. The broad flare of the head. The heavy shaft. The weight of his balls.
He was huge. Bigger than any human of course, and somehow your body craved that stretch, even though you knew it would break you open.
Your thighs quivered. Your stomach clenched.
The pressure in your core built and your rocking turned frantic, while you suckled at his fingers, grateful for something to keep you quiet. He kissed your cheek. Curled his digits, caressing the soft palate of your throat.
"That's right," he rasped. "Choke on my fingers while I use this pretty cunt through your panties. You're so fucking wet I can feel it creaming."
He wasn't wrong. Your arousal had soaked through everything. The ridges of his jeans caught on your clit through the tights, sending sparks up your spine, and your eyes rolled back as he altered his angle.
"You want to cum. You want to soak through your tights and make a mess all over my cock, right here, with everyone in this room."
You shook your head frantically around his fingers.
"It's going to happen, sweetheart." He laughed darkly. "I can feel you fluttering. Your cunt's trying to milk something that isn't even inside it." His hips circled, grinding his length against your seam, and you felt the heat of him even through the denim. "You're gonna cum. But when you do, you're gonna do it quietly."
Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck—
Your orgasm overwhelmed you.
A silent, powerful thing that ripped through your spine and had your thighs trembling against his legs. Your pussy pulsed against his trapped cock, your hips rocking in staccato jerks as you rode out the pleasure on his lap.
Your mouth opened wide around his fingers but no sound came out except a muted "guhhhhh—"
Saliva spilled down his knuckles. Behind you, Marcus's entire body went rigid, his cock throbbing against your twitching pussy through the denim, and he let out a breath that was almost a whine.
"That's my good girl," he whispered, pulling his slick fingers from your mouth. Strings of spit connected his knuckles to your lower lip. "So pretty when you fall apart for me."
You slumped against his chest, panting, vision blurring at the edges. Your walls still pulsed in little aftershocks that made you clench around nothing. You could feel the wet spot you'd left on his jeans.
Suddenly, the power flickered back on.
The lights blinded you.
"Well," Sarah said, glancing up from her phone, "that was dramatic. You two okay back there?"
"I'm fine," you mumbled, hazy and embarrassed.
Thankfully, Marcus had acted before anyone could notice a thing. He'd shifted you fully into his side, one arm wrapping around your waist while the other pulled your legs across his lap. You were tucked against his chest, curled into the warmth of his chest.
His jeans were ruined.
So were you.
But nobody could see it.
"She's scared of thunder," Marcus said smoothly.
Derek snorted. "Didn't take you for the type to do cuddling, Marc."
"Everyone needs something." Marcus's voice dropped, pitched for your ears alone. "And some of us are about to get everything."
------------------------------------
GO TO PART 2!!!
Meanwhile, show some love if you enjoyed :) Hugs and kisses :)
Tight Quarters PART 2-FINAL (werewolf best friend x fem reader)
Summary: You have been avoiding your werewolf best friend after the intimate moment between you earlier that night. But Marcus corners you. Things get intense, physical, and very real between you.
TW: NSFW, P in V, oral (fem), fingering, possessive behavior, knotting, claiming, size difference, HEA.
GO TO PART 1
Happy reading, holy smut awaits below!
------------------------------------------
The storm didn't stop.
And you... you became a ghost in the cabin.
Flitting from room to room, always one step ahead of Marcus. When he entered the kitchen, you suddenly needed something from another room. When he settled on the couch, you remembered something you'd left upstairs. When he looked at you, you found something fascinating to study on the opposite wall.
Candles got lit because the power was still unstable. Sarah made boxed mac and cheese while someone else burned popcorn in the microwave. You laughed at jokes you didn't hear and ate food you couldn't taste.
And through all of it, you felt Marcus watching.
When midnight came, everyone started claiming sleeping spots. One took the upstairs bedroom. Someone called the couch. A sleeping bag was rolled out near the fireplace while voices argued over blankets.
You waited until nobody paid attention before escaping to the attic.
Bad idea.
The second you stepped out into the hallway, a large hand wrapped around your wrist.
Marcus.
He didn’t say a word. Just dragged you down the hall toward the downstairs bedroom. His bedroom. You knew because it was saturated with his scent. The storm growled outside as he pulled you inside after him.
"They won't hear us down here," he said, closing the door. The lock clicked. "Not with the storm."
You stood in the center of the room, trembling, your tights ruined, your thighs sticky. The room was small; paneled walls, a pull-out couch, a single window showing nothing but rain.
Marcus circled you like the wolf he was. His dark hair was messy from running his hand through it all night. His broad shoulders tense under his gray hoodie. His beautiful green eyes glittered in the low light.
"You really thought you could ignore me all night?" he asked.
You swallowed hard. "I wasn’t ignoring you."
Marcus laughed. "Yeah? So that’s why you wouldn’t even look at me after grinding all over my lap?"
"I wasn’t grinding—"
"You came on my jeans."
Your mouth snapped shut.
He stopped directly in front of you. Towering over your smaller frame. His body blocked out the window, the door, the rest of the room.
"And then you avoided me for hours." His jaw flexed. "What exactly was your plan there?"
"I didn’t know what to do."
"You could’ve talked to me."
"I panicked!"
"You panicked?" His eyebrows lifted. "Sweetheart, you’ve been acting nervous around me for months. You think I didn’t notice?"
Your sighed. Of course he noticed. Marcus noticed everything about you.
Thunder cracked outside. Instinctively, you flinched.
"You know what pissed me off the most?" he asked quietly.
You shook your head.
"The fact you acted embarrassed." He inched even closer. "Like what happened between us was a mistake."
"It wasn’t a mistake," you mumbled before you could call the words back.
"Good," he drawled. "Because I’m done pretending this is normal best-friend shit."
Your heart hammered.
"We crossed those lines a long time ago," he said. "You know it. I know it."
He was right.
For a long time now, you'd lost track of what was normal.
The way you slept curled against him during movie nights, his arm around your waist. The way he growled at guys who flirted with you. The way his hand would linger on your thigh too long, and your fingers would trace his chest longer than they should. The way he looked at your mouth. The way you looked at his.
"I’ve wanted you for years," he admitted. "And now I know you want me too. So no." He shook his head. "I'm not backing down. You made a mess of my jeans. You take responsibility."
"I—"
"Do you know how hard I am right now?" He grabbed your hand, guided it against the front of his fly. The bulge there was obscene; a huge column straining against the denim, so large your fingers couldn't wrap around it.
"This is what you did to me. Thirty minutes of grinding that sweet little cunt against my lap, and now my cock's so fucking painful I can't think straight."
Your mouth watered.
"See something you want?" He unbuttoned his jeans. The zipper came down, tooth by tooth, and when he reached inside and pulled—
God.
His cock was huge. Thick, long and flushed dark red, the head shiny with pre-cum, thick veins running along the underside. His balls hung fat, drawn up tight against his body.
He wrapped his hand around the base and pumped. A bead of fluid leaked from the slit and dripped down the shaft.
"You're going to make it up to me," he said, stepping closer. The head of his cock nudged your hip, leaving a smear of pre-cum on your shirt. "And then you're going to remember that no one else gets to touch what's mine."
"I-I'm a free woman—"
He grabbed your jaw. His fingers dug into your cheeks.
"Free?" He laughed, and there was nothing friendly in it. "You are mine. You're not free because you have someone who belongs to you: ME. You think I'd let anyone else put their hands on you? Watch you squirm and cum?"
His thick thumb shoved past your lips. Pressed down on your tongue. You tasted his salty skin.
"Marc.... mmmhp—"
He leaned in closer. His musky scent filled your nose. Made your pussy clench.
"I'd kill them," he said, matter-of-fact. "I'd tear their throats out with my teeth before I let them see what's mine. That cunt belongs to me. These tits belong to me. Every wet, dripping sound you make, every time you clench around nothing thinking about my cock—mine."
You whimpered around his thumb. Your nipples hardened under your shirt. Heat flooded between your legs.
He released your jaw, stepped back, and smiled. "Now strip for me."
You arched a brow, smirking up at him. "Strip me yourself, wolf. You said you're mine, right? Come and take what's yours."
A deep growl and he lunged, his mouth claiming yours. His tongue coaxed your lips apart, while his hands yanked at your shirt. He peeled it off, then clawed at your bra, snapping the straps and tossing it aside. Your tights came next until you stood naked except for your drenched panties.
"What's next, sweetheart? Tell me what you want. This wolf who belongs to you. What do you want him to do?"
You gazed up at Marcus, your best friend for years, and saw something feral looking back. Was that side always there? What had you missed and why did you love it so much? This possession in his eyes. The absolute adoration. They set you on fire. He set you on fire.
"Please," you whispered.
"Please what?"
"Please fuck me. Please... I need your cock inside me. I need you to split me open on it. I've been thinking about it for months, about how big you are, about how it would feel—"
He kissed you again, all teeth and tongue, his hand fisting in your hair while the other ripped your panties down your legs. He lifted you like you weighed nothing, spun you around, bent you over the arm of the pull-out couch.
Fabric rustled behind you. His deep grunts as he stripped off his clothes. You glanced back. he was naked. Tall. Furred. Muscled. Every inch the werewolf he was. He dropped to his knees behind you, hands spreading your cheeks apart. His tongue dragged over your slick folds, making your toes curl.
"Fuck, this pussy." He lapped again. "Pretty little pussy that squirted so hard for me."
"Marcus... oh fuuuck..."
"Hold still." His tongue flicked your clit while his thick fingers probed your slit. One digit pushed in. Then a second. Stretching you wider.
You gasped, choking on a moan as he pumped them, your juices squelching around his knuckles.
"Marcus—mhnn, it's too much—"
"I know, sweetheart," he whined, pumping steadily and licking your trickling juices. "I know you're so fucking tight. Hasn't had a real cock in ages, has it? But you'll take every inch of my fat dick anyway, won't you? Because you're my good girl."
You nodded frantically.
"Words."
"Yes—fuck yes, I'll take it, just please—"
The head of his cock nudged your slit.
You'd thought you were prepared.
But nothing, nothing, could have prepared you for the way he impaled you, the burning stretch of that thick crown spreading your muscles inch by inch.
"Fuuuck," you sobbed. "Too big—can't—"
"Shh. You can." His hips rolled. Sank deeper. You moaned brokenly. "Taking me so well. Look at that—" His thumb found your clit, rubbing in circles. The pleasure-pain short-circuited your brain. "—your pretty cunt's swallowing my cock because it was made for it."
With a wet squelch, he was in. Bottomed out, his hips flush against your ass, his balls pressing against your clit. You could feel every ridge of him, every pulsing vein, the way his cock stretched your walls so wide you swore you could feel yourself in your throat.
"Inside," you gasped. "You're inside—"
"All the way." He sounded wrecked. "Feel that?" He shifted his hips, and you felt the bulge of him moving inside you. "Feel how deep I am?"
You couldn't answer.
Your mouth hung open. Drool dripped onto the couch. Your eyes rolled back.
"Hnng—fuck, you're tight—" He fucked you. Slow strokes that pulled almost all the way out before sinking back in. Your walls clenched around him, tried to hold him, and he snarled. "Shiiiit—
"Marcus—"
"Not gonna last." His hips picked up speed. The couch creaked beneath you, shoved against the wall with each thrust. "You feel too good. This perfect, wet, gripping cunt—"
He grabbed your hips. Angled you up.
The next thrust hit a spot that made stars burst behind your eyes.
"HGNNN—!" you sobbed. "Right there—oh fuck, don't stop—"
He didn't.
Brutally, his hips snapped against yours. Each stroke hammered that spot until you couldn't breathe, couldn't think, could only ride higher and higher.
SLAM. SLAM. SLAM.
"Gonna bust," he warned. "I'm gonna fill this pretty cunt up. And then I'm gonna keep you on my cock until it takes." His rhythm faltered. "Until everyone upstairs smells it on you. Until they know."
"Yes—yes—"
"From now on, you belong to me. And I belong to you. No one touches me and no one touches you. You understand?"
So filthy. So possessive.
You came on his next thrust, your whole body convulsing, your pussy milking his cock as he fucked you through it.
"Guh—guh—guh—"
"Fuck—aah—" Marcus's hips stuttered, his rhythm breaking. His cock swelled inside you, the knot at the base spreading your slit wide. You mewled at the stretch. Felt the first hot spurt of cum flood your channel. "Hnnnnng— take it—"
Splorch. Splorch. Splorch.
He kept you impaled, pumping ropes of his seed deep into your pussy while you clenched around him, taking everything he gave. His knot locked you together—it was impossible to pull out. He slumped over your back, breathing ragged.
"That," he said, "was just the beginning."
It was minutes later when his knot finally deflated. He pulled out. You winced at the emptiness and the feel of his cum dribbling down your thighs. He spun you around, kissed you wetly, and wiped his thumb through the mess between your legs.
Then he brought that thumb to your lips.
"Lick it," he demanded and you wrapped your lips around his digit, tasting yourself and him together.
"Good girl." He smiled. "Bed. I want to hold my girlfriend."
You blinked, pretending innocence. "Girlfriend?"
"You are the one and only lucky girl."
You grinned. "Lucky doesn't cover it. From besties to this? I want you forever, boyfriend. Cuddle me and knot me to sleep every night."
"Deal," he drawled, kissing your forehead. "You're stuck with me now."
Tight Quarters PART 2-FINAL (werewolf best friend x fem reader)
Summary: You have been avoiding your werewolf best friend after the intimate moment between you earlier that night. But Marcus corners you. Things get intense, physical, and very real between you.
TW: NSFW, P in V, oral (fem), fingering, possessive behavior, knotting, claiming, size difference, HEA.
GO TO PART 1
Happy reading, holy smut awaits below!
------------------------------------------
The storm didn't stop.
And you... you became a ghost in the cabin.
Flitting from room to room, always one step ahead of Marcus. When he entered the kitchen, you suddenly needed something from another room. When he settled on the couch, you remembered something you'd left upstairs. When he looked at you, you found something fascinating to study on the opposite wall.
Candles got lit because the power was still unstable. Sarah made boxed mac and cheese while someone else burned popcorn in the microwave. You laughed at jokes you didn't hear and ate food you couldn't taste.
And through all of it, you felt Marcus watching.
When midnight came, everyone started claiming sleeping spots. One took the upstairs bedroom. Someone called the couch. A sleeping bag was rolled out near the fireplace while voices argued over blankets.
You waited until nobody paid attention before escaping to the attic.
Bad idea.
The second you stepped out into the hallway, a large hand wrapped around your wrist.
Marcus.
He didn’t say a word. Just dragged you down the hall toward the downstairs bedroom. His bedroom. You knew because it was saturated with his scent. The storm growled outside as he pulled you inside after him.
"They won't hear us down here," he said, closing the door. The lock clicked. "Not with the storm."
You stood in the center of the room, trembling, your tights ruined, your thighs sticky. The room was small; paneled walls, a pull-out couch, a single window showing nothing but rain.
Marcus circled you like the wolf he was. His dark hair was messy from running his hand through it all night. His broad shoulders tense under his gray hoodie. His beautiful green eyes glittered in the low light.
"You really thought you could ignore me all night?" he asked.
You swallowed hard. "I wasn’t ignoring you."
Marcus laughed. "Yeah? So that’s why you wouldn’t even look at me after grinding all over my lap?"
"I wasn’t grinding—"
"You came on my jeans."
Your mouth snapped shut.
He stopped directly in front of you. Towering over your smaller frame. His body blocked out the window, the door, the rest of the room.
"And then you avoided me for hours." His jaw flexed. "What exactly was your plan there?"
"I didn’t know what to do."
"You could’ve talked to me."
"I panicked!"
"You panicked?" His eyebrows lifted. "Sweetheart, you’ve been acting nervous around me for months. You think I didn’t notice?"
Your sighed. Of course he noticed. Marcus noticed everything about you.
Thunder cracked outside. Instinctively, you flinched.
"You know what pissed me off the most?" he asked quietly.
You shook your head.
"The fact you acted embarrassed." He inched even closer. "Like what happened between us was a mistake."
"It wasn’t a mistake," you mumbled before you could call the words back.
"Good," he drawled. "Because I’m done pretending this is normal best-friend shit."
Your heart hammered.
"We crossed those lines a long time ago," he said. "You know it. I know it."
He was right.
For a long time now, you'd lost track of what was normal.
The way you slept curled against him during movie nights, his arm around your waist. The way he growled at guys who flirted with you. The way his hand would linger on your thigh too long, and your fingers would trace his chest longer than they should. The way he looked at your mouth. The way you looked at his.
"I’ve wanted you for years," he admitted. "And now I know you want me too. So no." He shook his head. "I'm not backing down. You made a mess of my jeans. You take responsibility."
"I—"
"Do you know how hard I am right now?" He grabbed your hand, guided it against the front of his fly. The bulge there was obscene; a huge column straining against the denim, so large your fingers couldn't wrap around it.
"This is what you did to me. Thirty minutes of grinding that sweet little cunt against my lap, and now my cock's so fucking painful I can't think straight."
Your mouth watered.
"See something you want?" He unbuttoned his jeans. The zipper came down, tooth by tooth, and when he reached inside and pulled—
God.
His cock was huge. Thick, long and flushed dark red, the head shiny with pre-cum, thick veins running along the underside. His balls hung fat, drawn up tight against his body.
He wrapped his hand around the base and pumped. A bead of fluid leaked from the slit and dripped down the shaft.
"You're going to make it up to me," he said, stepping closer. The head of his cock nudged your hip, leaving a smear of pre-cum on your shirt. "And then you're going to remember that no one else gets to touch what's mine."
"I-I'm a free woman—"
He grabbed your jaw. His fingers dug into your cheeks.
"Free?" He laughed, and there was nothing friendly in it. "You are mine. You're not free because you have someone who belongs to you: ME. You think I'd let anyone else put their hands on you? Watch you squirm and cum?"
His thick thumb shoved past your lips. Pressed down on your tongue. You tasted his salty skin.
"Marc.... mmmhp—"
He leaned in closer. His musky scent filled your nose. Made your pussy clench.
"I'd kill them," he said, matter-of-fact. "I'd tear their throats out with my teeth before I let them see what's mine. That cunt belongs to me. These tits belong to me. Every wet, dripping sound you make, every time you clench around nothing thinking about my cock—mine."
You whimpered around his thumb. Your nipples hardened under your shirt. Heat flooded between your legs.
He released your jaw, stepped back, and smiled. "Now strip for me."
You arched a brow, smirking up at him. "Strip me yourself, wolf. You said you're mine, right? Come and take what's yours."
A deep growl and he lunged, his mouth claiming yours. His tongue coaxed your lips apart, while his hands yanked at your shirt. He peeled it off, then clawed at your bra, snapping the straps and tossing it aside. Your tights came next until you stood naked except for your drenched panties.
"What's next, sweetheart? Tell me what you want. This wolf who belongs to you. What do you want him to do?"
You gazed up at Marcus, your best friend for years, and saw something feral looking back. Was that side always there? What had you missed and why did you love it so much? This possession in his eyes. The absolute adoration. They set you on fire. He set you on fire.
"Please," you whispered.
"Please what?"
"Please fuck me. Please... I need your cock inside me. I need you to split me open on it. I've been thinking about it for months, about how big you are, about how it would feel—"
He kissed you again, all teeth and tongue, his hand fisting in your hair while the other ripped your panties down your legs. He lifted you like you weighed nothing, spun you around, bent you over the arm of the pull-out couch.
Fabric rustled behind you. His deep grunts as he stripped off his clothes. You glanced back. he was naked. Tall. Furred. Muscled. Every inch the werewolf he was. He dropped to his knees behind you, hands spreading your cheeks apart. His tongue dragged over your slick folds, making your toes curl.
"Fuck, this pussy." He lapped again. "Pretty little pussy that squirted so hard for me."
"Marcus... oh fuuuck..."
"Hold still." His tongue flicked your clit while his thick fingers probed your slit. One digit pushed in. Then a second. Stretching you wider.
You gasped, choking on a moan as he pumped them, your juices squelching around his knuckles.
"Marcus—mhnn, it's too much—"
"I know, sweetheart," he whined, pumping steadily and licking your trickling juices. "I know you're so fucking tight. Hasn't had a real cock in ages, has it? But you'll take every inch of my fat dick anyway, won't you? Because you're my good girl."
You nodded frantically.
"Words."
"Yes—fuck yes, I'll take it, just please—"
The head of his cock nudged your slit.
You'd thought you were prepared.
But nothing, nothing, could have prepared you for the way he impaled you, the burning stretch of that thick crown spreading your muscles inch by inch.
"Fuuuck," you sobbed. "Too big—can't—"
"Shh. You can." His hips rolled. Sank deeper. You moaned brokenly. "Taking me so well. Look at that—" His thumb found your clit, rubbing in circles. The pleasure-pain short-circuited your brain. "—your pretty cunt's swallowing my cock because it was made for it."
With a wet squelch, he was in. Bottomed out, his hips flush against your ass, his balls pressing against your clit. You could feel every ridge of him, every pulsing vein, the way his cock stretched your walls so wide you swore you could feel yourself in your throat.
"Inside," you gasped. "You're inside—"
"All the way." He sounded wrecked. "Feel that?" He shifted his hips, and you felt the bulge of him moving inside you. "Feel how deep I am?"
You couldn't answer.
Your mouth hung open. Drool dripped onto the couch. Your eyes rolled back.
"Hnng—fuck, you're tight—" He fucked you. Slow strokes that pulled almost all the way out before sinking back in. Your walls clenched around him, tried to hold him, and he snarled. "Shiiiit—
"Marcus—"
"Not gonna last." His hips picked up speed. The couch creaked beneath you, shoved against the wall with each thrust. "You feel too good. This perfect, wet, gripping cunt—"
He grabbed your hips. Angled you up.
The next thrust hit a spot that made stars burst behind your eyes.
"HGNNN—!" you sobbed. "Right there—oh fuck, don't stop—"
He didn't.
Brutally, his hips snapped against yours. Each stroke hammered that spot until you couldn't breathe, couldn't think, could only ride higher and higher.
SLAM. SLAM. SLAM.
"Gonna bust," he warned. "I'm gonna fill this pretty cunt up. And then I'm gonna keep you on my cock until it takes." His rhythm faltered. "Until everyone upstairs smells it on you. Until they know."
"Yes—yes—"
"From now on, you belong to me. And I belong to you. No one touches me and no one touches you. You understand?"
So filthy. So possessive.
You came on his next thrust, your whole body convulsing, your pussy milking his cock as he fucked you through it.
"Guh—guh—guh—"
"Fuck—aah—" Marcus's hips stuttered, his rhythm breaking. His cock swelled inside you, the knot at the base spreading your slit wide. You mewled at the stretch. Felt the first hot spurt of cum flood your channel. "Hnnnnng— take it—"
Splorch. Splorch. Splorch.
He kept you impaled, pumping ropes of his seed deep into your pussy while you clenched around him, taking everything he gave. His knot locked you together—it was impossible to pull out. He slumped over your back, breathing ragged.
"That," he said, "was just the beginning."
It was minutes later when his knot finally deflated. He pulled out. You winced at the emptiness and the feel of his cum dribbling down your thighs. He spun you around, kissed you wetly, and wiped his thumb through the mess between your legs.
Then he brought that thumb to your lips.
"Lick it," he demanded and you wrapped your lips around his digit, tasting yourself and him together.
"Good girl." He smiled. "Bed. I want to hold my girlfriend."
You blinked, pretending innocence. "Girlfriend?"
"You are the one and only lucky girl."
You grinned. "Lucky doesn't cover it. From besties to this? I want you forever, boyfriend. Cuddle me and knot me to sleep every night."
"Deal," he drawled, kissing your forehead. "You're stuck with me now."
This commission is owned by Kate Hart. As the original writer, I strictly forbid any form of reproduction, replication, or translation of my stories without my explicit consent.
Pairing: beast oc (Alaric) x f!reader
Summary: This is a story with Beauty and the Beast vibes. You live in a grand castle with a beast named Alaric. One day, you accidentally touch him and a glowing rose tattoo appears on your skin. Alaric explains that the tattoo is a sign of a curse that binds the two of you together. You can't get more than a few steps away from him without feeling pain and arousal. Forced to stay close, you both succumb to your feelings and the deep connection between you.
Warnings: 18+, mid-eighteenth century story, true love curse, beauty and the beast vibes, magic tattoo bonding, virgin reader, oral (fem receiving), foreplay and stimulation, p in v sex, big 🍆, belly bulge, knotting, lots of 💦.
I completely forgot to post this commission! Enjoy!!
Château d'Azay-le-Rideau, France - 1750
“Make it stop!” you groaned, wide eyes on the Beast, who stood calmly by the fire, his large, furred form casting long shadows over the walls. “Please, just… make it stop!”
“I cannot do that.” Came his voice, steady and infuriatingly husky.
The moonlight shone through the castle's grand windows, pouring glittering beams across your body as you paced back and forth, the tap of your boots echoing on the sleek floor. Your fingers moved nervously against the mark on your wrist, the delicate rose pattern twisting and developing, shimmering softly against your skin. With each passing second, the flower vines extended further up your arm, emitting a sweet warmth.
It all began a year ago with a professional agreement. The Beast was Lord of the Castle and needed someone to govern it. You were that person. You lived in his huge fortress and worked as his chamberlain. But what began as a rigid work agreement quickly turned into closeness.
In the past months, you’d grown used to his company, you were after all, alone in a huge castle with no one but a few servants to talk. He’d gifted you his enormous library, a beautiful haven of literature. He also spent time with you every day, taking you on walks to the gardens, organizing big dinners, music nights, and theatrical nights. You’d been foolish to allow yourself to get comfortable, to hover close enough and be tempted to touch him.
But his fur had appeared so silky and inviting. What was one touch?
You'd succumbed to the temptation and touched him, curved your small palm over his massive arm.
A moment later, all order unraveled.
A weird tingling sensation had begun to emerge from your wrist, and as you looked down, a red rose began to light softly, its delicate petals winding up your wrist, its thorny vines snaking out, tracing your skin with intricate detail. The tattoo was enchanted and even now— it continued to spread on your arm.
Oh, how foolish and naive you had been! To approach him so carelessly, hovering so close that his mere presence seemed to draw you in. It was foolish to give in to your curiosity, reaching out to touch him despite the warnings. And now, this—this thing—was strangely connecting you to him in ways you couldn't fathom.
The Beast—no, Alaric, as he was once known—kept staring at you like an idiot, his sharp features unreadable. He didn’t even look troubled. Why would he be? For once, he wasn’t the one in trouble. He rather enjoyed it, wicked Frenchman that he was. Yet as you glanced at him, you felt another spark, a liquid warmth in your belly. His form, massive and imposing, stood out against the moonlight, making the entire hall feel smaller, more intimate.
Alaric had been cursed long long ago, cursed to find misery, coldness and no love. His face was no longer that of a beautiful Prince but of a beast with horns, sharp teeth and lion’s mane. He was massive and muscled, with strong legs and a wolf-like tail. His clothing was still royal, tailored to fit his form. He looked as elegant and well-groomed as possible.
With an exasperated groan, you stroked your wrist harder, the glow intensifying with each stroke of your fingers. "Damn! Why doesn't it stop?! Please, stop it!"
He spoke with a long sigh, his voice low and rumbling. "I told you I cannot do that."
"You can't or you won't?"
"It's the mark of the curse…" His glance swept across your wrist. "There is no undoing it."
Your heart sunk at his words. You were aware of his curse but had no idea it could be transmitted through touch. Damnation! And damn the warmth of the mark, affecting your whole body. It felt warm and wet between your thighs as if a fire was spreading beneath your skin, connecting you to him. Every pulse of fire reminded you of your error.
“I… I didn’t ask for this!” you protested, rubbing at the mark as if you could wipe it away with sheer willpower. “I was just—just curious! I did not want to be cursed.”
“You touched me, therefore now you will pay. You are bound to me.”
You shot him a sharp look, waving your pulsing wrist in the air. “You could have warned me that I’d get cursed just by touching you!”
He chuckled, the sound deep and rich. “But I did warn you not to touch me, didn’t I? You were simply too curious.”
“I thought you were goading me, challenging me! You didn’t mention the part where I’d be magically tethered to you like a pet on a leash,” you snapped despite the lingering warmth in your chest.
“You are wild and untamed. Always speaking back to me, always doing as you please. It’s your fault, little one.”
“Still…” you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper. “A little heads-up would’ve been nice.”
“Where would the fun in that be?”
“Oh, yes, this is so hilarious. I’m cursed with a pulsing tattoo— it glows like a freaking beacon by the way—and you’re not in the least concerned.”
“The mark will stop glowing once you accept it.”
“I’ll never accept it!”
Alaric sighed. “The curse cast upon me ensured I would never be loved. I was cursed to live as a beast, hated and feared... alone."
You gazed at him, the weight of his words hurting your heart. His formidable, imposing frame suddenly appeared fragile.
“However,” he continued, “there is a way… for the curse to wane. Not to break it entirely, but weaken its grasp. The curse weakens—forever— when I am touched by someone who genuinely loves me.”
“So… this mark…”
Alaric nodded. “It means you are the one fated to love me. And because of that, the curse has loosened its grip on me. Though I can never return to the man I once was, I can have love.”
Your eyes welled with emotion, but you refused to cry in front of him. “So… this is permanent?"
Alaric hummed and stepped close, his towering frame suddenly feeling much too close. “I’m sorry… but you are now bonded to me, my thorny rose,” he purred. “Alas, you could have worse company, no? And the mark… I think it’s quite beautiful.”
You stared at him in disbelief. “Beautiful? It’s so big and so… damn hot!”
“That temper of yours…” he sighed softly, in a way a beast like him never would. “Of course it makes you hot. The closer we are, the more it will affect you. It’s a sign that our bond is… flourishing.”
You blinked, rubbing your thighs together at the effect of his deep voice, presence and scent. “Flourishing? My wrist isn’t a garden, Alaric. This is my skin. And I assure you, it’s not supposed to glow.”
“We are connected. The curse… it has tied our fates together. The more we fight it— both of us— the more painful it will become."
You swallowed hard. “And if I… don’t fight it? Will it stop and leave my skin?”
“No. Never, little one. The mark will just settle there, binding you to me, fully and irrevocably. But… I’m afraid we cannot stray far from one another without feeling pain.”
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
His lips curled, showing just the barest flash of sharp teeth. “Immensely.”
Stupefied, you spun around, intending to get some fresh air but the moment you moved away, a sudden, scorching pain went through your chest, making you gasp. He was there instantly, steadying you with a large, clawed hand. You curled into his body, sighing pleasantly at the feel of his fur against your skin. It felt so good, warm and inviting, his musky scent tantalizing your senses. You hadn’t realized it but your hands were buried in his forearms, holding him to you.
“Foolish one,” he muttered, his breath warm against your temples. “What did I just tell you?”
“Alaric…” you sighed, meeting his eyes with reluctant acceptance. “Make it stop, please, make this ache go away.”
A low chuckle escaped him as he rubbed your wrist, feeling the warmth pulsating beneath your skin and tracing the delicate rose mark. The rose's delicate vines had wrapped themselves around your forearm, growing faintly. You bit back a moan, despite everything, you felt the pull—the odd bond that bound you to him, pulling you nearer to him with each breath.
“Ah, yes… it can be intense. Every step you take away from me will only bring more pain, more desire pooling deep inside.”
“Deep inside?”
Alaric raised a brow, a glint in his eyes. “Hmm, deep inside your cunt. I can scent your sweet arousal. Always could scent your need for me.”
You looked away. His words made you wet. Tenderly, he turned your face back to him. There was no hiding your blush or emotions.
“The curse bound us together. Two halves meant to be one. And if we give in…” he trailed off, his huge palm framing your face. “Would it be that bad?”
The tension in the room shifted as he stood there, with you in his arms, the strange pull between you palpable. Were you truly the one for him? Your heart stuttered. The idea of being physically and emotionally bound to Alaric—a beast of both grace and power —was captivating.
And the more you thought about it, the more your heart and body betrayed you. Oh dear… Yes, you wanted him. You wanted him with every ounce of your soul. Right on cue, the tattoo—its once glowing petals and vines now settled into a permanent black design that curled up your forearm. Becoming a part of you.
You didn’t resist when Alaric scooped you up, carrying you through hallways to his private chamber— a huge, opulent bedroom with polished wood and velvet furnishings, tapestries hanging on the walls, and a stone fireplace crackling in the corner. The bed was the largest piece of furniture in the room; it had a dark purple canopy covered in silk and velvet covers making it appear incredibly soft and inviting.
Alaric lowered you on the plush bedding and he came to rest beside you, his body half-looming over you, massive yet tender and protective. His eyes, golden and intense, settled on you then down to the rose mark. His fingers, clawed but surprisingly gentle, traced the rose before his tongue brushed a petal of the tattoo, feather-light, sending a shiver of electricity racing up your spine.
You watched, breathless, as he nuzzled and licked every petal, every vine, every thorn, his muzzle soft against your skin. The heat of his breath warmed you as he worked his way up your forearm, his mouth following the intricate lines of the rose, savoring every inch of it. With each kiss, your pulse quickened, your body shamelessly hot, your pussy dripping slick.
“Alaric…” you said in a sultry voice you could hardly recognize.
“Easy. We’ll take it slow, my thorny rose.”
As he said that, his lips hovered just inches from your collarbone. His tongue darted out, tracing the delicate indentation at the base of your neck. A sweet gasp escaped you as he licked a slow, tortuous trail down the round tops of your breasts, pulled up by your corset and your bodice. The laces on your bodice came undone, the corset disposed of in seconds as he skillfully drew the fabric down your waist, exposing your breasts to the cool air and his hungry gaze.
Your body arched closer to his, your nipples hardening into tight, aching buds. His eyes locked onto yours before he bent down and let his tongue trace the underside of each mound. You whined, burning so fiercely with desire as he licked the around your areolas. Teasing and exploring. Never quite getting to your sensitive nipples.
“Alaric,” you warned, thrusting your chest to his mouth.
“How I love it when you call my name.”
And with that, he licked one tiny bud, causing your body to shiver with want. Your hands gripped his horns, keeping him in place as he lapped one nipple, sucking wetly, his saliva and scent mingling on your skin. He did the same with the other nipple, and your body melted into his, hips arching up, breasts thrust sweetly into his lips.
You were lost in passion and he was only touching you.
You craved more. You wanted to touch, feel, and own every part of him.
Boldly, your hands slid up to his jacket, tugging at the heavy fabric, feeling its weight between your fingertips. You dragged his jacket away and he helped you remove it along with his shirt, without quite taking his tongue and hands off your breasts. Furry broad shoulders were revealed and a powerful, sculpted chest and stomach.
Large hands encompassed your tits as he growled softly and angled his head, his tongue trailing the curve of your neck. His fingers pinched your nipples, careful of his claws. Your breath hitched and you tilted your head back, offering him more.
“Oh god… yesss,” you whispered, your voice trembling.
Blindly, you brought his mouth to you, needing to feel his kiss. But he hesitated, pulling back slightly. His golden eyes met yours, darkened with desire but shadowed with worry.
“I’m afraid… of hurting you,” he drawled. “I have no lips and my teeth… they’re sharp. I don’t want to—”
“Use your tongue,” you whispered, breathless, gone was the shyness in you. “Please.”
For a moment, he seemed to hesitate, but then, as though unable to resist any longer, he surged forward. His mouth opened, and his tongue, hot and insistent, swept across your lips before plunging deeply. Deeper still. He tasted you, swallowed your breaths, and pressed his moist and burning tongue against yours, sending sparks of ecstasy shooting through you with each stroke. You gasped into his mouth, the sound drowned out by the sheer intensity of the kiss, your hands grabbing his shoulders.
The sound of fabric tearing and garments hitting the floor was the only indication of what was to come.
The flickering light in the room danced across your flesh, both naked and unashamed. His body enveloped yours, his weight pressing down on you, his thighs spreading your legs apart. The sheer size of him caused your pussy to clench. His shaft was a massive veined rod of flesh, long and thick, with a knot at the base. His cock throbbed and leaked moisture, and his balls thick and heavy, hung like ripe fruit.
You couldn't help but reach out, a little bashful as your fingers stroked the silky warmth of his shaft. It was both firm and tender, as hot as touching a blazing flame. Alaric snarled and watched your small hands. You trailed the protruding veins and bulbous head all the way down to the bulging sac. He growled, his entire body tense.
“Such soft gentle touches. But I can’t—little one. I need to taste you, have you.”
You opened your mouth to protest but whined instead when his tongue licked the delicate folds of your pussy. Your body ignited, waves of ecstasy crashing over you. Spine arching, you opened your legs obscenely wide, his head buried in between, wet tongue consuming your depths. He thrust his appendage inside, snarling primitively, and you sighed delightfully, your cunt pressing against his mouth as you shut your eyes tightly and surrendered to the passion.
“Mmmmm, so breathtaking,” he drawled, his tongue gracing your cunt. “I love the rose mark on your skin but even more so the petals on your wet cunt… so lovely and wet. I love to tease and lick them.”
Eyes holding your own, he hooked his large hands around your thighs, bringing them around his furred torso. His dick, massive and twitching, stroked against the wet petals of your cunt. He lubricated himself; you were soaked and ready to receive him. You wiggled and squirmed, impatiently attempting to guide him inside. Finally, with a gentle nudge, he growled, and the broad popped in.
Cupped your ass, he pushed inside, his cock gliding into you in one smooth thrust. You were incredibly tight, untouched and you gasped at the slight discomfort of the invasion. Despite his size, he somehow fit, his body seemingly designed to mold itself to yours. Your cunt was stretched wide, only his knot showing, and your belly bulged slightly, revealing the curve of his shaft beneath your skin.
Alaric caressed your belly lovingly as if marveling at the sight. “Yes, mine. It will be alright. I promise you. Does it hurt, little one?"
You shook your head. “Not anymore. Please… hmmm—move. Need to feel you so desperately.”
“As you wish, my rose.”
His eyes never left yours as he thrust out of you, all the way out before slowly filling you up. This time there was no discomfort, only building intensity. His shaft slid in and out of you, the friction reigniting your desire. Your body flexed, your walls squeezing around his dick as he increased the pace. His thrusts became faster and more urgent, and you held him, rocking against him as his tongue stroked yours, making you dizzy with desire.
Alaric was unstoppable, unrelenting and soon you were both shuddering in climax. He thrust one final time, bottomed out inside you till his swollen knot had popped inside. You whined, muscles contracting around him, your cunt snug around his knot, tying you together. You saw stars, thrashed wildly in little aftershocks as he released, a flood of cum filling you up. It didn’t help that he let out those delicious growls, tongue devouring your mouth.
Time seemed to stand still. You lay there, with him atop you, his dick still pulsing within you, his knot throbbing with a slow beat. It had been minutes and he was still spurting, though slower this time. You basked in the afterglow of your passion, felt so utterly at peace. Your bodies had become one and the tattoo on your wrist had never felt so right.
You were his, completely and utterly his.
“How are you feeling, my thorny rose?” he asked after he’d rolled over so you were draped over his chest, his knot still hard inside you.
“I feel loved,” you said as you rested over his chest feeling the steady thump of his heart beneath the fur. “I have never been kissed or loved by anyone like this before—have never felt anything like this before.”
“There is no going back now,” he said possessively. “You gave yourself to me. What I feel for you is raw, primal. It cannot be stopped or contained.”
You grinned. “So, what? I’m just stuck to you for the rest of eternity?”
“Figuratively and literally, I’m afraid,” he said, groaning at the feel of his knot tucked inside your warm cunt.
“You’re insufferable, you know that?”
Alaric’s eyes softened. “I will never be the charming Frenchman I once was. That man’s appearance is gone, replaced by this… beast.”
Smiling, you let your hand reach up to touch his face, tracing the firm lines of his jaw, his fur silky beneath your fingers. “The appearance might be gone,” you whispered, “but your heart isn’t. Besides, I think I’m past wishing for a handsome prince on a white horse. French or not.”
A low chuckle vibrated through his chest. “You’ve got a strange way of looking at things.”
“And you’ve got a strange way of doubting yourself,” you shot back teasingly. “You might not be the Prince you once were, but you’re more than enough for me.”
“Don’t you regret it?” he asked quietly after a few seconds. “Mating with me? That I’ll always be… like this?”
“Oh, I am surprised but this is so lovely,” you murmured, hands caressing his shoulder. “It’s so lovely because I always wanted you to be mine. I've always felt attracted to you but was frightened to admit it. I was also scared you would reject me heartlessly."
“Never. I could never do that.” He took your hand, kissed the rose tattoo on your wrist.
You smiled up at him, your heart swelling with love. “You are thoroughly mine, Alaric.“
For a moment, he stared at you and a soft, almost amused rumble escaped him. “You really are something,” he drawled, his free hand brushing the curve of your ass. “You’ve given me something I thought I could never have again."
“I am yours,” you whispered. “I love you. All of you, my Beast.”
“I love you more, my thorny rose,” he said, his eyes dark with lust.
Smiling, you kissed and made love again —harder, hotter, and wetter.
Beach, Heat, and Knotting PARTS 1+2 (sea dragon x fem reader)
Part 1:
A quiet cove. A reader in heat. A game of teasing the beast who lurks beneath the waves. Your sea dragon bf, all claws, scales, and hunger, dragging you into the sand and proving just how possessive he can be.
Expect: heat-drunk desire, ripped bikinis, monster 🍆, knotting, overstimulation and so much more.
Part 2:
Dragon bf isn’t done with you. Not even close.
Dragged into his cave, your body still stretched and dripping, your dragon needs more. Not just your pussy.
Expect: ass-eating, slow teasing tongue play, ass-stretching with that massive cock, knotting, overstimulation, and a dragon who fucks you raw then cuddles you like it’s the sweetest thing in the world.
The werewolf breathed against your skin, his hips snapping repeatedly against yours. You were trapped beneath him, his huge cock invading your depths. Your belly rubbed on the mattress, the best squealing. Slick dripped down your bunny cunt as you rocked against him, begging for his knot.
“Patience, little bunny,” he licked your sweaty neck where his mating mark resided. “Need to fuck you properly, make sure your heat is satiated.”
And it goes on and on, with him putting you on all kinds of positions, fucking you crazy before finally stuffing you with his seed and his knot.
A watercolor painting of a swimmer encoutering some sapphic mermaids, edited slightly for tumblr. (The titty-out version is over on my bluesky at juliedillon.bsky.social )
need werewolf boyfriend to lovingly fuck me to make me forget about trauma and lick my tears away and knot me
Werewolf Lovingly Fucking You
Hiii anon! Ahhh, I need that too... 😭 I wrote a little something below! Werewolf x fem reader. It’s in 1st POV🫶🏼 Hope you like this!
TW: NSFW, MDNI, trauma (not detailed), intimacy through sex, p in v, knotting.
----------------------------
I wasn't doing well...
A storm had been raging inside my head for weeks before he found me shaking on the bathroom floor. The memories came in flashes. The trauma. The pain. I wanted it to stop.
And then.... there was him. My wolf. My monster.
The only thing that feels real anymore.
His body covers mine, all that fur and muscle and heat pressing me into the mattress. I can feel his cock, huge and hot, already dripping, the knot at the base making my pussy clench just thinking about it.
He doesn't ask.
He never asks because he knows. He reads the need in my scent, in the way my thighs fall open for him.
"Shh, baby," he growls. "I've got you. Let me in."
And then he pushes.
The stretch burns but it's the good kind of pain—the kind that rewires my brain, that replaces every bad touch with his. His cock splits me open inch by inch, and I'm crying before he's even halfway in. Not from the physical. From the way he cups my face with those massive, clawed hands and licks the salt from my cheeks with a tongue too rough, too hot, too everything.
"That's it," he murmurs against my skin. "Let it out. Let me fuck it all away."
Deep thrusts punch the air from my lungs. Every stroke hits that spot that makes my toes curl, makes my fingers dig into the fur at his shoulders. He's not gentle. He's not supposed to be. He's fucking me like he's trying to chase the ghosts out of my bones, his hips slamming against mine hard enough to shake the headboard.
The knot starts to catch. Each pull tugs at my rim, stretching me wider, and I need it. Need to be tied to him, locked together, unable to escape even if I wanted to. Which I don't. I never fucking want to.
"Please," I sob. "Please knot me. Make me forget."
He roars and shoves forward one last time. The knot pops past my entrance and locks in place, and I scream. Not from pain. From the sheer fucking fullness. He's pulsing inside me, ropes of cum flooding my womb, and he's still licking my tears, still growling sweet nothings against my temple.
"There we go," he whispers as my body clenches around him. "You're safe. You're mine. And nothing—nothing—is ever going to hurt you again."
The trauma doesn't vanish completely. But right now, stuffed full of my werewolf's cock, knotted and claimed and held so tight I can barely breathe... the pain feels a thousand miles away.
Please consider- pack breeder for several alpha werewolves 👀👀👀
One breeder. A whole pack to satisfy. Hell yesss!!!
NFSW werewolf pack x reader
Imagine this: you are the pack breeder. You have the utmost respect and highest position. You are your pack’s priority. They make love to you, wolf after wolf, claiming you in every way, in every position imaginable. Pounding you full, flooding you with their seed, leaving you a mess and scented with them.
You carry their pups, their future. And you love it. You want their knots, their scents, their warmth and cum in you no matter what. You want to be fucked and taken till you can’t walk. Till you can’t think.
You want their wildness and their softness, too. Because after they’d wrecked you in every way, your pack takes care of you, cleaning your sore stretched holes, feeding you, cuddling you and whispering how precious you are… how beautiful you look carrying their pups. And that is how blessed your life is
Summary: you become the dragon shifter's mate and take both his cocks in your pussy.
Warnings: MDNI, 18+, very nsfw, size kink, possessive dragon shifter, consensual and primal, oral (fem), fingering, p in v, multiple orgasms, DVP (dοuble vaginal penetratiοn), overstimulation, 2 monster 🍆 🔥, lots of 💦.
The second part is here! It's so sweet and explicitly smutty; you have been warned! Our dragon-shifter is so darn sexy as he claims the reader. Enjoyyyy!
Read part 1 here.
Full dragon masterlist here.
The cave was bathed in the warm firelight, the flickering flames casting dancing shadows on the rough stone walls and your writhing body. You lay on a bed of soft furs and silks, legs split wide and draped over a pair of muscled thighs. Chest heaving as your dragon-shifter—tall, muscular, and radiating power toyed with your pussy. His fingers spread your folds, exposing your little slit to his feral eyes. He rubbed your opening, gathering your essence in his fingers and smearing it on your clit. The touch was electric, and you couldn’t help but arch into him, your hands clutching at the hard planes of his chest.
"Hmnnn... yesss..." you breathed, your voice a whisper as his fingers scorched your tender flesh.
"Eryndrin," he said. "My name is Eryndrin, little flame. And you'll cry it out before the night is over."
You barely had time to register his words before buried his face between your legs, claiming you pussy with lewd kisses that left you breathless. His hands were everywhere, grabbing your hips, itching up your sides, and grabbing your tits. When his tongue slipped past the tight entrance of your hole, you saw stars, your body reacting to his touch like a flame being kindled.
Ecstatic joy burst through you as you thrashed, your fingers tangling in his dark hair, every slide of his tongue leaving a path of fire in its wake. Trapped under him, he kept devouring you, his hands cupping your hips and pulling you closer. His touches were electric, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.
"Eryndrin!" you moaned as he pressed scorching, open-mouthed kisses on your clit.
He growled in answer, proving just how much he enjoyed hearing it.
"Say it again," he demanded, gently pushing a finger in your tender pussy.
"Ah — Eryndrin," you cried out, your voice shaking as he pumped that finger, wet noises filling your ears.
"Louder." Another finger pushed inside you, while he cilclred his tongie around your clit.
You went crazy and trembled. "Eryndrin!"
"Good girl," he said softly, his lips brushing over your folds. "Now let me hear you scream it."
He pumped his finger and he did. With each touch, thrust, and possessive growl, he pushed you closer to the edge until you were crying out his name, your broken voice booming throughout the cave. He prepared you for what seemed to be hours, rolling you on your stomach while pounding into your cunt, his fingers stretching you out. You came again and again, hips bucking uncontrollably as bliss and sweet pain molding into one. Eryndrin felt a primal need to fuck you but he also enjoyed the sight of your cunt around his fingers, the tight little hole stretching so perfectly around his digits. So he kept you there, enslaved to his shameless thrusts and strokes as tongue and fingers explored every inch of your sloppy wet cunt. You were his, and he was planning to have his fill of you. In every way.
“Eryndrin!” you cried out for the thousandth time, your voice breathless as pleasure crashed over you for the tenth time in a row. You were on all fours, sweaty and trembling while three fingers drove back and forth in your pussy, slick sounds echoing in the lair. His tongue lapped up every drop of your release while his free hand rubbed your back soothingly.
A whimper escaped you when he pushed his fingers out of your well-fingered pussy. He kissed your folds one last time before turning you over. Through foggy eyes, you watched him as he fisted his two huge cocks glistening with pre-cum. They were identical, large and lengthy from tip to base. Veins cradled them and now you noticed they were slick, self-lubricating.
"Ready, sweatheart?"
"Hmm, more than ever," you said rather dazedly causing him to smile. He'd given you so much pleasure, and you were still greedy for more. When he was done with you, you doubted you'd be able to walk. But it would be worth it. More than anything.
Eryndrin chuckled as he rested your legs on his chest, his cocks heavy on your belly. He guided the lower cock in your entrance, leaving the other outside. You let out a quiet hitch of breath when the head popped inside and the thickness of it penetrated you while the upper cock pulsed on your belly, the cockhead tricking moisture in your bellybutton. He fed you inch by inch, going inhumanly deep until he bottomed out inside you.
You quivered, feeling so stuffed and stretched. "Ahnnn!"
"There, good girl, taking one of my cocks deep in her pretty little cunt." He kissed you lovingly, then rubbed your belly, which was bulging a little with the shape of his shaft inside you. "It's alright. You are safe. Only my mate can take me like this. Your body was made for me. Does it feel good, my little flame?"
“Hmm, it feels so intense,” you panted, another climax building. “I'm… so close.”
Grasping your hips, he watched your cunt contract until his cock slid out, all ten inches of him glistening with your juices before pushing back inside. You cried out, your hands finding purchase on his other cock. You rubbed and pumped him in time with his deep thrusts, his shaft stroking and hitting the right spot again and again.
Again, you came in a series of moans, your body clenching and unclenching around his cock. But then you felt it: a new stretch, another building pressure that made your breath catch. Your eyes widened and when you realized what was going on; he was squeezing the second cock into your hole, the massive head pressing firmly, stretching your pussy further than you thought possible. Your body tensed, your eyes staring with fear and excitement.
Surely, you couldn't take both— "Shh," he reassured you. "You can take it, little flame. You were made for this." "What if... I—I cannot? It's too much." Eryndrin kissed you, but he did not stop. His tongue slid into your mouth the same time as his cock pushed in. Gently, agonizingly slowly. Both shafts stretching and filling you in ways that caused your vision to blur. Your nails sunk into his shoulders as you gasped, your body quivering beneath him.
"You can do it," Eryndrin rasped in your mouth. "Relax your muscles, sweetheart. There, let me help you feel even better."
Guiding his thumb on your clit, he rubbed back and forth, awakening your pleasure and causing your pussy to relax. So far you'd taken a few inches of both cocks, but thanks to your lubrication and that of his cocks, he drove steadily deeper. Deeper and deeper, opening you up for his girths. And then, with a final thrust, he was completely buried inside you, pussy impaled on both cocks. You cried and came undone, your clit throbbing in waves of heat even as your body tried to adjust to the unbelievable fullness. Eryndrin grunted above you, his hands grasping your hips as he began to move, each thrust sending ecstasy coursing through your body. "See? You took me so good," he said, his breath hot on your ear. "You are mine, sweetheart. Mine to worship and protect. Mine to fuck and stretch around my cocks." After that, you lost the ability to think. The stretch was intense, your belly rounder than before, the pleasure indescribable. You could feel the overwhelming love and possession as he claimed you totally, lewd sounds echoing, the plap-plap of flesh meeting flesh filling your ears.
Soon, he fucked you to another orgasm, his cocks squelching in and out of you. You thrashed and whimpered, overstimulated but he kept going, looking stronger than ever, his cocks feeling harder and thicker than before. His name became a litany on your lips, with each cry becoming more frantic than the previous one. Eryndrin! Eryndrin! Finally, with a roar that shook the cave's foundations, he joined you in relief, his lips spitting a flare of fire into the air. He slammed to the hilt, his cocks expanding even more and flooding you with cum. His stomach flexed as he spurted load after load, his mouth whimpering your name as he filled your cunt with so much seed that it trickled out of you and stained the furs and silks.
All that remained was the sound of your mingled breaths, the world reduced to the two of you, connected so intimately. Your body felt boneless and heavy as you lay beneath him, his strong body wrapped about you, his cock still releasing inside you.
"Today, you became mine," he said, his voice deep and possessive. "And I became yours. Forever."
"Forever, my love," you nodded, your eyes closing as you relaxed into the warmth of his embrace.
The last thing you remembered before closing your eyes was the immense happiness and sweet tiredness as he held you close and whispered how much he loved you. You slept in his arms, knowing that no matter what happened next, you would always belong to him—your dragon shifter, your Eryndrin.
Wow! This ended up so freaking good! It was FIRE!! Do you agree? I haven't done DVP, so I'm glad I tried it! Let me know what you think, your opinion means so much! Reblogs are greatly appreciated too 😆
