anyone high with me tonight?
because hoooooooooo I'm thinkin... (dangerous, I know)
oh your big baby of a werewolf just can't barely handle it
the shift had barely finished and he's on you, chest heaving, claws digging into the dirt on either side of your head. his scent thick with need, heat rolling off him in waves
“can’t,” he pants, rut-drunk already, muzzle brushing against your throat. “can’t stop it, lovey. need you. need to breed you. please, baby.”
he ruts against your hips, cock hot and slick, whining as though the ache in him might kill him if you didn’t take him. when you open your legs for him, he nearly sobs with relief
the first thrust knocks the air from your lungs, too deep, too much, knot already swelling at the base. his whole body trembling with the effort of holding back, whining, nuzzling your neck with frantic affection even as his hips hammer forward.
“mine,” he growls, voice breaking around the word, devolving into frantic little whines. “mine, mine, mine.”
when the knot locks him inside, he howls against your skin, half triumph, half desperate devotion, clinging to you like youre the only tether keeping him from tearing apart completely.
the knot holds tight, locked so deep he can barely move. every little twitch makes him whimper, forehead pressed against your shoulder as his whole body shakes with the force of it.
“too much, too good, can’t—” his words tumble out in a broken rush, breath hitching. “you’re so warm, baby, don’t let go, please don’t—”
each pulse of his knot makes him sob out a little sound, half-pleasure, half-overwhelm, like he cant believe you let him (even though you *always* do)
“mine,” he whispers again, but softer this time, breaking into a whine. “you’re mine, and I’m yours. yours, yours always.”
the great bulk of him trembles in your arms like a child, reduced to a needy, whimpering mess, soaking in every stroke, every shushing murmur, every kiss you pressed against his sweat-damp temple
poor little lamb. he would be lost without you.