good boys bite (and whimper!) (Patreon)

synopsis: bringing in a mutt off the street seemed like a good idea. until you woke up next to a hunk of a man instead of a mongrel. you never meant for him to become your makeshift roommate - or for him to wind up right back into your bed!

pairing: yearning!werwolf x f!reader

content: mdni, smut, porn with plot, very sarcastic reader, living together, domesticity, in denial about feelings, falling for each other, mutual pining, knotting, biting, mating, marking, piv sex, doggy style, a soft needy man whimpering and moaning hehe, desperation, happy ending

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How were you supposed to know the scraggly dog you dragged in from the rain was a wolf? 

Or, uh, a werewolf? 

You just thought he was a little funny-looking. Like some backyard breeder got a little too carried away, squinting through the heavy water droplets pelting your face as you pulled off to the side of the road and shooed into your car, throwing a blanket over him to help dry him off. 

He let you do it. 

Shaking the water off of his fur and curling up in the backseat, following you without a leash back inside your apartment afterwards. Rubbing up against your legs when you cooed and called him a pretty boy, nuzzling into your palm when you rummaged through your fridge for something safe to feed him. Deceptively sweet and domesticated, completely convincing you that you’d just picked up a dog with the perfect temperament as he licked your fingers and gave you big beautiful eyes. 

Fuck, you even gave him a bath and scrubbed him dry, coming through some of the knots in his fur before patting for him to come up and join you in your bed. 

You didn’t think you’d be waking up next to a man in the morning. 

Especially not a naked one. 

Drooling on a warm skin, a heavy limb slung across your wrist before you panicked and rolled away – and off the bed to land hard on your ass. Stumbling back up to your feet, clumsy palms pushing off the ground as you gasped. 

Shrieking in surprise before picking up a book you’d left on your nightstand and throwing it directly at his head. 

That didn’t count as animal abuse, right? 

“Ow,” he sleepily whined, pulling your pillow over his head as your heart threatened to explode out of your chest, adrenaline pumping through your veins as something fluffy slipped out of the wrinkled blankets. 

A tail. His tail. 

“Did I snore or something?” He groaned, his voice coming out all thick and tired as he rolled from side-to-side, stretching out and making your bed look almost small. 

“Who-” You started, jaw slack as you squinted at him, the fog in your brain slowly starting to clear as you pieced together what the hell happened. “What the fuck?” 

He sat up, and you knew you should be throwing something else at him and shoving him out the door, but his abs were unfortunately distracting you from the correct steps any sane person would’ve taken in your shoes. 

Or socks, technically. 

Staring at his chiseled chest, the very thick happy trail proudly on display as the blanket slipped dangerously low around his waist, morning sun illuminating his tanned skin as he yawned in your direction, innocently cocking his head to the side as his fluffy ears flopped. 

A werewolf. 

You invited a fucking werewolf into your home. Into your bath and your bed. 

“I-I thought you were a stray,” you bluntly said, watching his nose scrunch up in disgust. 

“Do I really look like one?” He pouted, getting up out of bed as you hastily put a hand over your eyes to shield yourself from the sight of his cock or bare ass. 

“Yes,” you deadpanned, swallowing hard as you tried to shut off the warmth in your chest as it struck you that you really had been snuggling with a stranger. 

A hot one, sure, but still, someone you’d never fucking met before last night. 

Part of you wished he was a little uglier. It would make it a lot easier to grab him by the ear and drag him back onto the street you found him on. 

“What-” 

“Do you just go home with random women every full moon?” You demanded to know, scowling as your cheeks heated up. 

“No one’s ever brought me home before,” he yapped, yawning again like he’d rather be back in bed sleeping. Shuffling around to open up your closet door, rummaging through your dresses and shirts as if you had anything that would fit his ridiculously wide frame. 

You guessed that made you the moron who made the mistake of doing a good deed. 

Well, what you thought was a good deed. 

“Get out,” you huffed at him. 

“Like this?” He whined, and you peeked from between your fingers to catch him throwing you big, pleading eyes. “I’m gonna get a public indecency charge.” 

“Will it be your first?” You sarcastically muttered. 

“What kind of werewolf do you take me for?” He grumbled, grabbing a shirt you already knew would be too small for him, struggling to get it over his shoulders, the thin white fabric straining over his biceps and threatening to tear as you tried to hold in your urge to laugh. 

“The kind that sleeps with strangers,” you dryly replied. “And takes advantage of their good will.” 

“Am I supposed to say no to a cute girl offering to let me stay the night?” He dramatically exhaled, one of his big hands half-covering up his hard cock. 

Not that you were looking.

You turned your back to him, half-stomping over to your dresser and yanking the top drawer open to rummage through for a practically ancient pair of boxers from an old ex-boyfriend of yours, tossing it behind you with a dramatic sigh. 

“Just put those on and get out,” you insisted. 

To your greater surprise, he actually listened to you. 

Obeying the way a puppy would, following your instructions although his tail was half tucked between his legs as he started towards the door in the world’s worst walk-of-shame outfit. 

No phone. No keys. No wallet. 

Hair falling in his face as you felt your heart stutter for a moment, briefly contemplating getting him a ride or asking a few questions to make sure that he would be safe returning to…wherever he came from. 

“Are, um, are you going to be alright?” You heard yourself ask, cringing internally as your ex’s boxers clung to his muscled thighs. 

“Yeah, no worries,” he shrugged. 

God, you hated how much you felt like a shitty person watching his ears twitch down while he spoke. 

But you kept telling yourself you didn’t actually know the guy. 

What if he was a weirdo who did this shit every month? 

He hesitated at your doorway, looking back at you and pushing out his bottom lip before he carefully spoke, “Sorry for, uh, that.” 

Why did his sad, soft stare have to stab through you so hard? Pierce straight through your sensibilities and make you second guess your decision? 

Staring at the door long after he closed it afterwards, forcing your feet to storm over and flip the lock before you attempted to return to your normal routine. And, uh, cancel your Amazon orders for pet supplies. 

You doubted he would fit in the large doggy bed you ordered.

Maybe an XL. Or a crate. 

Still, you never thought you’d see him again. 

Chalked it up to an embarrassing reminder to not just pick up dogs off the street as you distracted yourself with work and doomscrolling. Which was exactly why you were so surprised to get a knock at your door two nights later and open it up to find him on the other side, a bag slung over his shoulder and an apologetic grin on his face. He looked a lot better in clothes that actually fit him. One hand slung in the pocket of his jeans as he awkwardly shrugged. 

“Do you remember me?” 

You wished you didn’t. 

“Did you think I could forget?” You bluntly asked, floored at his audacity to return like you were an old friend. “Also, it’s only been, like two days.” 

“I, uh, I mean,” he started stuttering, ruffling his hair as his tail wagged behind him. 

“What do you want?” You asked, fairly sure everything you’d ever been taught about stranger danger should be returning to you right now – although you couldn’t convince yourself that you were in any kind of trouble when he looked like he’d crawl under a bed and cry during a thunderstorm. 

And somehow, despite not actually letting him in, he was slipping past you in your apartment, dropping his bag by the door while you gawked at him. Staring as he walked through to your kitchen, just breezing past all formalities like he was the one who lived here. 

“I kind of, sorta need a place to stay,” he started, pulling open the fridge and rummaging through it as you resisted the urge to pick up his bag and throw it at him.

“You’re a grown man,” you gritted your teeth. “Are you seriously telling me you don’t have like, an apartment or a house or-” 

“I do, I swear, it’s just-” He paused, throwing a long look over his shoulder at you as he tilted his head side-to-side. “Complicated.” 

“Complicated enough you’re relying on someone who literally just threw you out for a place to sleep?” You sarcastically asked, arching up both brows only for him to nod again, fluffy ears flopping. 

“Exactly.” 

You should throw him out again. 

But you were hesitating once more, your stupid heart lurching the longer he stared. 

“I would make a good pet,” he added, looking up at you all innocently like you couldn’t see how clever the slight curl of his smirk was. 

He shut your fridge door, already forgetting what he was doing in there just to grab your hand and use it to cup his face, leaning into your warmth and nodding all lovingly. 

“Are you, like, homeless?” You asked, squinting at him as you brushed his hair out of his face. Resisting the urge to pet him and stroke the soft, silky strands, sure that he had to have some magic or something making you fall for this. Trying to look past his…cuteness and decide the truth for yourself. 

“If I say yes, will you let me stay?” He eagerly asked, leaning into your touch. 

“You’re just trying to sleep in my bed again,” you accused, scrunching your nose up at him and sighing. Letting go of his face to poke a finger into his broad chest instead. 

“Is there something wrong with that?”

Did he have to be charming too? 

“I’ll pay for your rent this month,” he added, and you nearly laughed in his face. 

“With what-” You started to ask, cocking up an eyebrow before he pulled into his pocket and handed you a check. 

You didn’t remember giving him your name, but it was there – and next to it was double your rent price. 

“If this doesn’t clear, you can’t stay,” you muttered, a lump lodged in your throat as you examined it. 

“Of course,” he nodded. “Whatever you say.” 

You shouldn’t have let him in. 

Because it turned out to be so much harder to kick him back out a second time. 

This was what you got for bringing home strays, you supposed. 

Coming home to a hot werewolf lounging on your furniture and eating your snacks, finding yourself growing more and more fond of his cheesy jokes, the warmth that radiated off of him as he tried to prove he was…something. 

Worth the chance you were taking on him? A good companion? 

Cooking breakfast for you in the mornings and running whatever errand you asked of him without a complaint, complimenting you when you were rushing out the door to get to work like he was a live-in boyfriend.

He was surprisingly clean. Clumsy, sure, but he cleaned the messes he made. Apologizing sheepishly if he spilled a drink or accidentally ripped a full trash bag open and asking if you were mad at him, occupying all your personal space on the couch and trying to curl up to you as if it was only natural. 

Like this budding relationship was somehow remotely normal. 

You were sure someone smarter than you, with more working brain cells, would have pulled the plug on this less than a week in. Or, okay, probably never would have let it begin actually. 

But a week passed and he was starting to pry his way into your heart, curling up on your couch to sleep and asking to cuddle. 

God, he even got you contemplating whether or not it would be insane to let him sleep at the foot of your bed. 

The answer was yes, but the fact it even crossed your brain was surely a sign you were starting to lose it. 

Swayed by his obnoxiously adorable face, the way his canine teeth were almost long enough to count as fangs, his cute laughter lingering in your head and his masculine scent marking you in a way you didn’t want to scrub off. 

Getting to know him made it all worse. 

He was just as sweet as his other form. Following you around and listening to you all enamored. 

You liked his face. 

You liked how hard he tried for his approval. 

You liked almost everything you learned. 

But another problem presented itself there. 

You still hadn’t figured out why the fuck he was here. 

He didn’t say what he did for work. Or how he got the money he seemed to always have enough of to spend on getting groceries delivered or covering your bills. 

You peeked at one of his shirt labels when he was in the shower as you sorted through the laundry, frowning at the pricey name on the tag before you shoved it inside the dryer.

An idea starting to form in the back of your head as you choked on the discomforting conclusion you came to. 

He had to be a thief. 

Maybe he robbed a few stores, or ran some scheme to have all these funds. And now he was using your place to hide away from the police. 

Using you. 

Werewolves tended to be looked down on. Perhaps he hadn’t ever been given the opportunity to do any better for himself. 

You hadn’t brought yourself to confront him yet, still working out what exactly you’d say when you would call him a criminal – but before you had worked up the courage, you’d crawled out to bed one morning and walked out to discover he wasn’t on your couch. Or in the bathroom. Or the kitchen. 

Head swiveling around only to discover him slipping his shoes on by your front door, his bag thrown over his shoulder as you stared stupidly at him. 

“What are you doing?” You asked, holding your breath and swallowing hard. 

“I appreciate you letting me stay with me, it’s just-” 

Oh. 

Of course. 

He had to leave sooner or later. 

“You’re not going to sleep on the streets, are you?” You tried to scoff, to use sarcasm to hide the strange feelings brewing in your stomach as his mouth twitched up into an easy smile. 

“Nah, just returning to my own place,” he shrugged. 

You didn’t have any jokes left in you. 

Searching for something you could tease him about and coming up empty as you stood there and stared at him. 

“I guess, um, I should get going,” he added in a low rumble, a cute little whine to his voice as he leaned against your doorway. His gaze drifting down to your lips like he was picturing how hard you might punch him if he dared to give you a goodbye kiss. 

He didn’t want to go. 

And some piece of you wanted to ask him to stay. 

“Oh,” you blinked at him, jaw locked tight as you tried not to be disappointed. “Uh, okay.” 

You couldn’t say it anyway. 

Just shutting the door softly behind him after he walked out, searing the image of him into your head as you struggled to keep a straight face. To stop your bottom lip from quivering the way it desperately wanted to. 

He wasn’t your boyfriend.

He wasn’t even a roommate. 

Opening up the door almost a second too late, peeking out into the hall to see him nearly at the end. 

“Take care of yourself, alright?” You cleared your throat awkwardly as you called out. 

And before he could reply (or you could change your mind),  you were rushing to close it again, resting your back against it and sucking in a deep breath. 

That was it. 

He was gone. 

No more unclogging your shower drain every few days. No longer buying a month’s worth of groceries in a week. No more late nights curled up on the couch listening to him snore while you pretended to watch a movie. 

Your thoughts drifted back to him a lot more than you’d like.

Glancing out the window during your drive home, halfway hoping to see a familiar pup waiting there for you. Opening up your apartment door just to be unnerved by the silence. 

The warm presence you’d grown used to. Comfortable with. 

God, maybe you needed a boyfriend. Or a real dog. Either might be more annoying than he had been though. 

You’d forgotten how to be lonely. Walking around your room, flopping on your bed to scroll, trying your damndest to occupy your time enough to not think about him. 

And still, when you got a knock on your door nearly three weeks later, you were practically rushing to answer it, already picturing him standing on the other side with his bag again, begging for you to let him stay another month. 

He was behind the door. 

Just not the way you imagined it. 

The first thing you noticed were his ears. Flopped fully down, that pretty face of his all scratched up as he leaned against the doorframe to support himself. Blood dripping onto the floor as his tail hung limply between his long legs. 

“Sorry for the inconvenience,” he tried to sound charming, but he was panting, chest rising and falling fast as you stepped inside to let him in. 

“Holy shit,” you breathed, mouth open wide as he stumbled through, a hand pressed to his side as you rushed to rip some paper towels off and help stop the bleeding. 

Pressing it haphazardly, half-patting his hand as you panicked, a blur of movement and questions spilling out as he made a beeline towards your bathroom. 

Adrenaline coursing through you as you demanded he get up on the counter, a lump in your throat bobbing wildly when he pulled his half-torn shirt up over his head and tossed it on the floor, his muscled chest gleaming with blood instead of sweat or soap suds.  

“What the hell?” You hissed at him, tempted to smack him as you ripped your hand towel off its holder and ran it under the sink before clumsily fumbling to turn the hot water on.

“I just had an, um, accident,” he lied. 

“You didn’t piss on the fucking carpet,” you snapped at him, scowling as you wet the washcloth, hurrying to rub his side clean so you could see how bad the damage was. “You’re hurt.” 

“It just grazed me,” he protested, and it was only then that you figured out what the hell it had to be from. 

A bullet. 

A goddamn bullet had grazed him. 

A nasty scrape staining the side of his skin, beyond lucky that it hadn’t taken a chunk of him when it made contact. 

“Why didn’t you go to the hospital?” You gawked at him. Why come to you? 

“You’re the only person I thought of,” he answered, your heart stuttering as you stared at him. 

What were you meant to say?That you’d been thinking of him too? That you weren’t pissed the only time he returned was when he needed something? 

“I heal fast,” he added, and you wanted to strangle him to finish the job someone else had clearly failed. 

You had to clamp your lips shut, biting your tongue to stop from picking a bigger argument. Working quickly to get him all cleaned up, rummaging through your bathroom cabinet for a first aid kit just to get the antibiotic ointment out to hopefully prevent any infections. You wanted to scold him. 

Concern recoloring all your anger and shaping into a panicked ball of nerves as you plucked out some gauze and bandages as the bleeding slowed. 

“Did you have to drip all over my floor?” You muttered under your breath, carefully applying and smoothing the bandage out over his wound. 

“I can clean it up,” he offered, like you were genuinely upset with him. 

“I was kidding,” you awkwardly clarified. “I can take care of it.” 

“But I want to take care of you,” he said, almost as if the two of you were a couple. As if it hadn’t just been radio silence from him since the last time he was here. Not even a number left for you to text or call, or letters sent to your mailbox. 

You rolled your eyes at him, stepping back as you swallowed hard.  

“I haven’t seen you in weeks,” you dryly replied, disguising your freshly sprouting feelings under a mask of nonchalance. 

“Don’t,” he whimpered, his bottom lip pushing out as your palm lingered on his chest. “I might think you missed me.” 

“What if I did?” 

Oops. You didn’t mean to actually say that part out loud. 

“I might pounce,” he warned. 

And what if you wanted him to? 

“I’m trying to protect you,” your werewolf vaguely muttered when you took too long to reply, his cheeks flushed pink, but you had to force yourself to shake your head.

“By showing up at my door whenever you need something?”

The last thing you needed was to start a situationship with a man that turned into a fucking wolf every full moon. 

Especially when you were more sure by the second he was in the kind of trouble you couldn’t tame. 

“I just can’t convince myself to stay away from you,” he insisted, a pathetic little whine to his voice as if he genuinely meant it. Like it wounded him to put you in this position.  

“What? Do you want me to throw a bone down the road for you to run off and catch it?” You continued, like he couldn’t see through the facade you were putting on. 

He hopped off the counter, and he somehow felt even bigger than he had the last time you’d seen him, looking down at you and stepping forward – only to force your back against the bathroom wall. 

“I think I’ll just end up running back to you,” he confessed. 

The sad part was that a not-so-small sliver of you hoped he’d say that. 

Staring up at him, wondering if those fluffy ears of his could pick up on how fast your heart was pounding in your chest, lips about to part to ask him what took him so damn long, but before you could speak, he was impulsively crashing his mouth against yours. 

Something minty lingering on his tongue as it slipped inside to trace your teeth, one of his big palms trembling when he touched your face, cupping your cheek softly like it would distract you from how intense his kiss was. Pouring all his raw energy in proving that he’d spent all this time apart thinking about you with just his teeth and tongue, his chest pressing against yours and keeping you pinned between him and the wallpaper. 

Breaking away to gasp for air only for him to nuzzle his sharp nose against yours, letting out a keening whine like he hadn’t gotten nearly as long of a taste as he would’ve liked. 

“Did you like, imprint on me?” You asked, chest rising and falling too fast for you to even remotely pretend to be unaffected by him. 

Was this some poorly-plotted out romcom you’d someone found yourself plopped into? Or were the feelings brewing beneath your skin truly shared by him? 

“I really want you to be my mate,” he muttered instead, batting long lashes and wagging his tail. 

“Is that code for fucking me?” You squinted accusingly at him. 

“If I say yes, does that mean you’ll accept?” He asked, trying to gauge what sort of response you wanted. 

“Maybe,” you swallowed hard, tilting your head to the side. 

Yeah, okay, maybe you should’ve seen him putting you in doggy style coming. 

Knees sinking into your soft mattress, legs spread just enough to make room for him behind you as one of his ridiculously strong arms held you up for him to fuck. 

Honestly, you never would’ve believed his dumbass had been shot if you hadn’t helped clean and bandage him yourself. 

His hips rutting ruthlessly into your ass, his chest hovering right over yours like his side might hurt too much to rest on your back. Breathing hard and heavy in your ear, whimpering every time his swollen tip smushed just below your cervix, cramming himself all the way in as you found yourself whining right there along with him. 

He was so much meaner than you expected. 

Not giving you time to get adjusted to his thick girth, deliberately dragging himself across your walls like he wanted to mold you around him. 

Make you his mate or fuck you hard enough your body would never forget it. 

Ensure that any other man you’d bring back to your bed would fail to live up to the standard he was currently setting. 

“G-god, you’re so fucking pretty like this,” he panted, tracing his tongue along your shoulder up towards the inside of your throat. Lapping at your skin like the taste of it was delectable. 

Every lick sent fresh shivers down your spine, your hips wiggling as his forearm squeezed you tighter, held you closer for him to rut into you. 

He was wearing a condom, one you had thrown at him after he tossed you into the bed, but fuck, that thing had to be close to breaking if it didn’t already. 

“How many times did you think about this when you were gone?” You half-whispered, barely able to pull yourself together enough to form the question. He tutted, his tail thumping against the bed as he crammed his tip right against your cervix. 

You almost thought he was going to howl instead of answer.

“Every night,” he admitted, his voice coming out all strained, and not nearly as sweet as it usually did. “Thought about showing up at your door and knocking until you let me in.” 

And god, you were really letting him in now, weren’t you? 

Shuddering as he pressed a soft kiss above the crook of your collarbone. And then his teeth sunk in hard. 

Canines claiming you, threatening to break through the thin skin of your throat as you gasped and squirmed underneath his weight. 

You heard that werewolves mated for life before. 

Thought it was some cheesy joke or stereotype. 

You never imagined how much it would burn to be marked by him. Fire roaring through your veins, rewiring you on some primal, biological level. Craving seeping into your bones, begging you to accept all of him. 

Still reveling in his warmth, still shaking and curling your toes when it struck you just what all of him meant. 

Something thick began to push up from the base of his cock, ballooning and locking you into place as his hips pressed firmly against your ass. 

His knot began to fill you up, the searing stretch blistering through you as your walls were forced to accommodate the rest of him. 

Fuck, was it even fully in?

You couldn’t tell when you were sure that you were seconds from cumming without your clit even being touched, his cock constantly nudging into that sensitive spot inside of you. 

You were clawing at the wrinkled sheets, knees threatening to buckle as your thighs shook, every desperate whimper from him behind you just drawing you closer to a cliff. 

“S-sorry, I-I can’t stop,” he gruffly whispered, his stammer coming out more like a bark. 

If the condom wasn’t broken before, it probably was now. 

His cock crammed so tight inside you, you were sure that there simply wasn’t any space left. He was licking at the sore spot on your throat, a soothing hum in your ear as he murmured pretty pet names into your skin like he wasn’t fucking your brains out. 

You didn’t know what made you snap. 

His knot, his tip, the way his breath ghosted over your sensitive skin and his fingers dug into your side. But you were cumming before you could control your reaction, a shattered groan of his name escaping while sheer pleasure tore through you. 

Pure and bright, white stars scattering across your vision when you scrunched your eyes shut tight, head slumping as he kept pushing himself in as deep as possible. He whined behind you, burying his face into your throat as he finished inside of you. 

Or the condom. 

You couldn’t bring yourself to care when you were still wrapped in his arms and the afterglow. Catching your breath as you belatedly realized you were sorta stuck like this, all plugged up. Slick leaking down your damp thighs as he started littering your skin with more little lovebites.

“Are you going to tell me what happened tonight?” You murmured, holding in a frown as you sucked in a shaky gasp. 

If he was a wanted criminal, couldn’t he at least give you a heads up before you had cops showing up at your door? 

“You’re gonna be mad,” he muttered, and you knew he was probably right about that. 

“Are you like, a bank robber or-”

He laughed at that, a low chuckle that made your stomach feel all fuzzy. 

“Not quite.”

You could hear his smirk. 

“Then what?” You asked, nervousness creeping in as you craned your neck back to catch a glimpse of him. 

“I run an, um, organization,” he slowly started, all sheepish and soft as he squeezed you like he was never going to let you go again — right as you realized what he was getting at. 

Oh god. 

Had you fucked a goddamn mob boss?

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