#cw knotting
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i don’t care what anyone says, omegaverse is hot.
like oh no, i’m so crazy about you that my pussy is literally drooling when i’m near you and it’s making you even crazier? and you’re getting all possessive and needy just because of my scent? and we gotta fuck raw and nasty until we pass out or else we’ll burn? and you’re gonna mount me while we’re at it too?
oh no, what’s that; a knot? you’re gonna stuff me full with it to make sure all your cum stays inside me while you sink your teeth into my neck and claim me as your mate? okay!
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taking his knot | 𝕥𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕟𝕒𝕣𝕚
a.n: i want to eat him. cw. knotting
ʕ •̀ ω •́ ʔ
imagine the way he would switch between whimpering and growling. his hands slipping from your waist because he’s fucking you in such a frenzy that a sheen of sweat covers your body, the smell of your arousal driving him insane.
he flips you over flat on your stomach and fucks into you like that. he lets gravity do the work as he drops his hips against your ass, pounding into you. but when you cry for more, for him to fuck you harder and deeper, he grips the headboard and uses it to drive himself into you. the wood bangs against the wall as he splits you open, and he’s sure everyone person and creature in gandharva ville can hear your cries of pleasure.
he’s borderline delirious now. his body weight is comforting on top of you as he licks you from your shoulder up to your ear, nibbling on your skin as he whispers filthy promises of how your gonna take his knot, of how he’s gonna empty himself into your tight hole and fill you up. when he feels himself getting close, he quickly pulls out and turns you over and something about the lewd look on your face as he stretches you out makes him want to come even harder. he pushes your knees to your chest as he slips inside you, a harsh growl bubbling from his chest as he sets a harsh pace, hard and so deep that each thrust takes your breath away. you know he’s close when you feel yourself begin to stretch around him even more.
you press a hand to his lower stomach in an attempt to get him to slow down but he grabs it, holding it above your head as he leans in closer, “ gonna take this cock for me?” he whispers before capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. it’s sloppy and messy as your teeth gnash together, his tongue swirling around yours.
he leans back again and holds your thighs down, your knees pressed to your ears now as he has you spread wide open. he pushes himself inside you one more time, slipping in with a wet pop. his grip is tight against your legs as his cock swells even more before coating your insides with thick ropes of creamy cum. he lets out the most salacious moans as he fills you, showering you with praises of “that’s it baby” and “fuck you feel so good, feel so warm” and “god you’re so good for taking all of my cum. for taking all of me.”
the sensation of fullness coupled with tighnari’s filthiness drives you over the edge. with a wail of his name so loud he’s sure the sages in sumeru city could hear, you tighten around his thick cock, and the vice grip you have on him causes him to choke. he collapses to your chest with a whine as his body shoots out even more cum. and after giving you all that he has, he lays there, his face pressed against your chest as he waits for both of you to catch your breaths. his tail curls around your waist as he slowly turns you guys over, his cock still inside you. you rest on top of him for a moment, the feeling of your body against his bringing you comfort as you come down from your high. your eyes are sliding shut when all of a sudden you feel him jerk underneath you. you look down at him to see his pretty eyes glowing, his canines growing a bit sharper as he asks you with a predatory grin,
“ready for round two??”
#well then i just pulled this out of nowhere so here u go#this was not proofread!#i hope u enjoy!#nyx’s notes#tighnari smut#genshin impact smut#tighnari x reader#tighnari x you#genshin impact x you#genshin impact x reader#tighnari#genshin imagines#tighnari imagines#genshin tighnari#cw knotting
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pairing: werewolf!kakashi hatake x f!reader
word count: 5.2k
about: your boyfriend leaves you alone for one week every month and you can never seem to put your finger on why. convinced he’s cheating, you book a romantic getaway to pin him down and figure him out. while preparing to leave, you instead discover the hairy secret he has been keeping from you all this time.
contents: nsfw - mdni. cw knotting, cw mating, cw breeding kink. miscommunication with resolution, established relationship, piv sex, vaginal fingering, reader has breasts and is referred to as pretty and mate multiple times, reader has pubic hair, few mentions of birth control (reader is on it but method is not specified), sloppy and messy sex (saliva is mentioned but there is no specific instance of spitting)
notes: part of thot-o-ween 2023! ngl i had the most fun writing this one out of the whole group this far and i hope that it shows and you enjoy reading it! thanks for the support the last four weeks and i'm so glad we are getting into the thick of the good stuff now. ♡
“Don’t be ridiculous, he absolutely adores you.”
Despite the consistent reassurance of your best friend, you aren’t certain that your boyfriend Kakashi does adore you.
It’s not that he isn’t wonderful because he is. Supportive, serious without being a bore, and surprisingly humble - these are all things it takes no effort for you to feel and say about him. Despite this, you can’t shake the nagging distrust you’ve felt since he told you he’s going on his once a month week long business trip. Unfortunately, this time it coincides with a romantic getaway you tried to book for the two of you as a surprise. Despite days of trying to convince yourself that it’s nothing and you have nothing to worry about with his cyclical departures, you have a really bad feeling.
“I can’t explain it but my intuition is going crazy. It feels like he’s lying to me.”
Your mind has played through all of the reasonable possibilities for his departure and is now filtering through the unreasonable ones. The “he has a family he’s hiding from me” paranoia pings between your ears like a racing pinball and your friend can tell, her face set in a displeased frown. She has been placating you for the past five months, politely shoving you in the direction of speaking your mind to the man, but she knows you’re uncomfortable with the idea.
She reaches across the small table the two of you sit at, dotted with discarded napkins and cups full of rapidly melting ice, and grabs your hands between hers. You appreciate the gesture and squeeze her fingers with your thumbs, smiling softly.
“You already know my advice because I’ve given it freely. What you do next is completely up to you.”
Nodding, you know she’s right. She has told you to confront him, to snoop, to follow him and these all sound like wonderful ways to handle the issue in theory. In practice, though? That’s a different story.
Dropping her hands and picking your phone up from the table, you sigh and open the little green bubble that is the messages app. Kakashi’s thread is at the top of your list and you open it, smiling looking at his sweet wishes of a good evening with your friend.
Hope you’re having fun. See you soon. 😊
“I booked that cabin before he told me he was leaving, do you think I should still tell him about it?”
Your friend nods firmly, sticking to her earlier advice.
“Yes, you should have told him as soon as you planned the getaway but maybe he can arrange something with work if he knows. It’s still a week out.”
Sighing, you nod in agreement and tap out a message in response to your boyfriend, worrying your lower lip between your teeth.
I know this is kind of off the cuff and you already told me you’re going to be gone but I booked a cabin for all of next week for the two of us. If you can’t make it, I understand. Romantic surprises are so hard sometimes!
The message whooshes and shows as sent, the blue text bubble sitting as heavy as the anxiety in your stomach. It’s long winded and something you probably should have said in person rather than via text but considering how nauseous you already feel anticipating his answer, you think this may have been for the best. You lock your phone and place it back down, not wanting to stare at the screen any longer, and the waitress comes to drop off your check.
Just as you reach for the little black tray with your receipt, your phone pings and your eyebrows raise. You smile at the waitress as you slide your card onto the tray and send her off, picking up your phone as soon as it’s not rude to do so.
You are so thoughtful. Don’t worry about not saying something sooner, I will see what I can figure out. Thank you for doing something so sweet.
Maybe your mind really has been playing tricks on you. It’s hard to hide your grin as you pass the phone across the table and your friend smiles as she reads as well, holding her hands out and tilting her head.
“See? Good communication is key.”
You know she’s right.
Across town, though, Kakashi paces the floor of his bedroom wondering how the fuck he is going to make this work.
How he ended up landing someone like you is still beyond his rational understanding. You are too good to be true and booking a surprise romantic getaway, in any other situation, would be a gift. A luxury, even. Time spent with you, secluded, watching the autumn leaves fall? He couldn’t dream of anything more but next week simply does not work for him.
Pressing the screen of his phone wildly, he swipes through apps until he finds his moon phase tracker, popping open the calendar to see when exactly the full moon falls. He’ll get more details from you later but if you booked it from Monday to Sunday, he may be able to pull off leaving early but staying for most of the time. The full moon falls on Friday and realistically if he spent the week with you up until Thursday, he may be able to pull it off.
Sighing, he slumps down on the edge of his bed and scrubs his hand over his face. The luck he has had over the last few months hiding his secret from you has been nothing short of fortuitous and he’s glad for your trust in him even though it eats him up to lie about his whereabouts for a week every single month.
Putting you at risk is the last thing the man would ever want to do so he’s already taking a huge chance trying to make this week work knowing that his hormones are stronger in certain months rather than others. He has felt overcome by his instincts this entire month, it’s the reason he has buried himself in busy work rather than spending his free time with you, but he knows that if he hangs you out to dry this week it could result in him losing you.
That’s simply not an option he’s willing to entertain so he will figure it out despite how it makes his gut twist and his mind race.
Swiping off of the moon cycle app, he opens his messages and the cursor blinks at him tauntingly while he considers what to say.
I can come along Monday through Thursday if that’s alright with you?
Tapping the little blue arrow that sends the message off to you, he feels a weight on his shoulders that he can’t quite name. It’s sadness because he knows eventually he’ll have to tell you the truth about himself or let you go but selfishly, he wants to put it off for as long as he possibly can.
Something about you makes him believe that those old stories his dad told him growing up about their kind having fated mates may have been true. His mother was his father’s mate, she knew of his secret and kept it until the day she died, and despite this harsh world, Kakashi has always kept the smallest kindling of hope that it could be true.
Then he met you and his body all but told him it was, the ruts coming more consistently and stronger, lasting for longer than they ever have. What started as one day a month he had to hide away to keep from exposing himself became two days, and then three, and then an entire week having to seclude himself from you to keep from giving into his more base urges.
Another sigh leaves the man and he taps his feet against the floor beneath them impatiently, clutching his phone in his palm. Three pings in succession make him lift it to his face, squinting slightly thanks to the brightness of the screen, but he smiles reading your words.
Omg yay!!!
I’m glad to get you for even that long
Thank you for making it work for me
It’ll be a risk but he’s willing to take it to see your pretty smile and to spend time cozied up reading and watching your silly shows and enjoying each other.
It’ll all be worth it as long as he can keep control.
The days leading up to the trip pass uneventfully for you but Kakashi feels differently with each hour that passes, especially today.
He’s hot. Cloyingly and overwhelmingly, to the point he has to lay on his couch in nothing but boxers and an old tank top dug out of the back of his dresser drawer to try and cool down. Sweat glistens across his skin and his very bones ache, all of the blood in his body running to his cock and making it impossible for him to think.
When you arrive at his apartment to spend the night in order to make leaving in the morning simpler, you’re shocked to see him lying on the couch with one hand down his boxers halfheartedly playing with his hard cock with one arm thrown over his eyes. His cheeks are pink and he’s panting, only glancing up briefly when the door opens and shuts. He scrambles to sit up but you can tell he’s struggling, his abs tensing with every breath he takes.
“Oh babe, are you alright?”
Dropping your bags at the front door, you rush to his side and kneel on the ground next to where he is strewn across the sofa. You press the back of your hand to his clammy cheek and coo, your other hand tangling in his unruly hair and combing it away from his forehead. He doesn’t uncover his eyes but his breathing is so heavy you worry something is seriously wrong with him.
“Kakashi, what’s wrong? Are you sick? Do you need to go to urgent care?”
He shakes his head and groans, chest still heaving and you notice the tip of his cock peeking above the waistband of his boxers. It looks the same as you remember it in every way except for the color - so red, as if it’s blushing to be spotted and leaking a pool of sticky pre-cum onto the barely exposed skin his tank top isn’t covering. You know the two of you have been too busy the last several days to spend much quality time together and sex hasn’t been possible but you’ve never seen someone so horny they’re actually ill because all current signs point to that being the exact issue.
“Talk to me. What’s going on?”
Embarrassment keeps him from opening up. Kakashi is ashamed of who he is, a beast more than a man, and he’s even more ashamed that he has no way of keeping the secret from you any longer. This rut is too strong and he needs you to leave lest his instincts take over his logic. Pulling his arm from over his eyes, he tries to sit up and you assist him to the best of your ability, his cock throbbing through the thin fabric of his boxers and catching your eye despite your attempts to focus on his handsome face. His stormcloud colored eyes have never looked more tumultuous than they do right now and you reach out to cup his face, only for him to gently grasp your wrist and pull you away.
“Don’t touch me.”
The look on your face, brows pinched and mouth agape, reminds him that he’s a monster and not a man and he should have never brought you into his life. The only thing he can do is hurt you. His grip on your wrist is gentle and he loosens it further but you capture his hand in your own, eyes brimming with tears of frustration.
“Please tell me what’s happening,” your voice cracks as you speak and you feel warm tears spill down your face, irritated by your own ability to hold it together, but your worst fears are coming true in front of you. Something is off about your boyfriend, you were right, and now he’s denying your touch when he clearly needs it. “I just want to know the truth.”
The truth would be a heavy burden for both of you and the last thing he wants to do is force you to carry it with him despite the pleading look in your eyes and your quivering bottom lip.
“What are you hiding from me?”
Your voice cracks again and his heart breaks all over, gray eyes trained on your face despite his disgust with himself. Despite the tears and the way they blur your vision, you scan his face and drink in every feature because despite how you feel right now, you love this man. You were hoping to tell him so this week, tucked away in the idyllic countryside, and now you feel the dream slipping away from you.
“Are you married? Do you have another life?”
Desperation for the truth makes your hands shake and he shakes his head, blowing a breath out of his lips. He continues to feel so hot it’s painful, like he’s burning alive, and he is resisting inhaling and choosing to breathe through his mouth instead to keep from catching your scent that is gradually replacing all of the fresh air in the apartment.
Allowing you to hold his hand, he sits forward and looks you in the eyes. If his gut feeling is real, if what he believes about you is true, then he needs to be honest. If you are his mate then you’ll understand. His voice shakes when he speaks and you scoot forward on your knees, closing the distance between your bodies as much as possible, still kneeling on the floor next to him.
“I think I should be offended that you’d even think that about me.”
Despite yourself, you laugh and he hides a smile of his own, eyes darting away from you. He pulls you up to your feet and scoots over on the couch, hissing as you occupy his space even further. You are affecting him more strongly than you ever have and his self control thins with every moment that passes.
“I’m sorry, I just don’t know what else to think. The weeks away, the secrecy, all of it…my mind has filled in the blanks I don’t understand.”
Kakashi nods. He understands, he truly does, knowing that his behavior has been less than exemplary while he has tried to keep his secret from you, but he wants to right his wrong while his mind is still clear. His cock throbs angrily, still pressing against the bottom of his stomach even while he sits, and he knows it’s now or never.
“This is going to sound ridiculous but I’m not what you think I am.”
Tilting your head to the side, you look over your handsome boyfriend and wonder what he could mean. Is he lying about his job or where he’s from? He can tell you aren’t following so he looks away from you and tries again, spitting out the words he himself has tried to run from his entire life.
“I’m only half a man, the other half of me is something else entirely.”
Again, you look lost and he grasps your hands in his own hot ones and chuckles, letting his eyes shut.
“Werewolf. I’m a werewolf.”
He opens his eyes at the sound of your surprised laughter and he’s met with the smile he has found himself falling more in love with every single day, your nose scrunching the way he finds utterly adorable.
“Kakashi…” you start but he squeezes your hands and shoots you a look so earnest you feel guilty for ever questioning him. His cheeks have turned from pink to flaming red, the same color as the engorged tip that is still peeking out over the top of his boxers. Your jaw drops and he groans, eyes falling to your lips.
“What is happening right now is called a rut and unbonded men like me go through them occasionally.” You nod, understandingly. You are always unfailingly kind and patient to him, more so than he deserves for lying to you all these months. He takes your silence as permission to keep speaking and you remove your hand from his to push his sweat slicked hair off of his forehead, noticing the way his nostrils flare with your touch. “Mine have been happening more frequently than that, though, because of you.”
He expects to have lost you again and to see confusion on your face when his eyes flit up to look at you but instead he sees a sweet, almost nervous, half smile. You don’t know what he means or how you could possibly be affecting his rut but the insinuation that you have this strong of an impact on him is flattering to say the least.
Arousing too, you think while pressing your thighs together. Your focus shifts from the heat in your own core to Kakashi and you lean your head on his shoulder.
“How can I help you through this?”
Your boyfriend is far from shocked that this is your next question for him but he’s grateful, shaking his head and gazing at you nervously from the corner of his eye. You have been surprisingly okay with everything so far, or at least it seems like it, but he worries how you’ll react if he tells you everything.
“Well, ruts are usually resolved by…well, for lack of a better word, mating.” Nodding, you keep your cheek pressed to his shoulder. “It’s not just, you know, having sex like we usually do. It’s more than that.”
You shift where you sit and he watches you intently, gasping when you move to straddle him and sit on top of his thighs. His bulge presses against your core and you hum, still combing your fingers through his hair. Those instincts he was dreading continue to work at him, his mind all but overwhelmed with the sight and scent of you, and his mouth fills with saliva.
“I can handle a few days of fucking if that’s what will make you feel better,” you smile and press a kiss to his forehead, his hands finding their way to your hips and holding them tightly. His grip is harsher than he has ever touched you but it doesn’t hurt, it’s simply anchoring you in place. “But if that’s not all, I will do anything you need.”
He chuckles lowly, the sound sexy and ringing in your ears, and you instinctively grind down on his lap to relieve the tension of your own arousal. It doesn’t take much to turn you on, not when it comes to him, but the mystery of what you have to look forward to makes your head swim.
“I, uh…well, I’d need to knot you.”
Your eyebrows raise and your eyes glisten with mischief watching him search for the right thing to say.
“What does that entail?”
Again he sighs, cock throbbing painfully, and you press your lips to his forehead again. He holds you in place to keep your hips from grinding or bumping against him. His mind is growing fuzzier with each passing second and he doesn’t need the encouragement of your luscious hips to turn him into something he can’t explain away with a conversation. He’s teetering on the edge of it anyway.
“You’re familiar with my dick, of course, but when I’m rutting it’s different. It’s…” He trails off again and you reach down between your bodies, snapping the elastic waistband of his boxers. You smirk, the little temptress that you are, and he groans in defeat.
“Show me.”
Despite his brain telling him not to, he nods, happy to bend to your whims as long as you’re okay with what you see. He shifts where he sits, keeping you anchored to his lap with one hand and he uses the other to pull his boxers down around his thighs. You gasp when you notice the thickened base, larger than you’ve ever seen it and swollen.
“This is your knot?”
He nods, eyes fixed on your face as you inspect the newest part of his anatomy, to you anyway, and he’s relieved to see nothing but curiosity on your face. Your hand drifts back between your bodies and you squeeze the base of him, his knot almost too large for your hand to wrap around, and his hips buck into the touch. He pants, chest heaving with each breath, but you keep your grip intact.
“So let me make sure I have this right,” you start and he nods to indicate that he’s listening despite the overwhelming pleasure he’s feeling at your touch, lower lip tucked between his teeth. “You need to knot your mate to get through this and feel better?”
He nods again, happy that he doesn’t have to explain the gory details and that you were able to fill in the blanks on your own.
“Do you know who your mate is? Is it someone I need to go find for you?”
Shaking his head, his brows furrow.
“You are my mate. That’s the only explanation why my body is reacting like this to everything about you.”
His voice sounds strained, struggling to hold onto his humanity with each passing second. You mercifully let go of his knot, the relief on his face disappearing when you do, and you lean forward, just inches from his lips.
“Then fuck your mate and feel better, baby.”
Sealing your offer by pressing your lips against his, you’re shocked to find that they’re as hot as his hands, his body, his cheeks, but they feel like home to you and the sloppy sound of your tongues running against one another in open mouthed kisses fill your ears. His grip on your hip tightens and he does his best to remain gentle as he slides you off of his lap and places you on your back on the sofa below you. He pauses for a moment to glance over your face, to be absolutely certain that you still want this, and you smile at him.
Reaching for the button of your jeans, he helps you slide them off and tosses them across the room, your panties coming off with them and the rest of your clothes in short order. He wants to shred them, to see the pieces fall and flutter away from your beautiful body, but he holds himself back.
This is just the beginning of his rut, after all, and the two of you are bound to have a very interesting week ahead of you so he savors this moment, the first that he can be who he really is in front of someone he loves.
It’s freeing and terrifying but his cock is throbbing so painfully he can’t focus on anything else.
“Tell me if I’m hurting you, okay?”
You nod when he slots himself between your spread legs, his boxers and tank top gone. Your cunt pulses at the sight of him, walls clenching almost painfully around nothing as you look at the size of his knot and wonder how you’re meant to fit it inside of you, but he quiets your wandering mind by leaning down and pressing his chest to yours, kissing you sloppily.
“God I love you,” he mutters and you hum in agreement.
His mouth is wetter than it ever has been, a side effect of his current state, and saliva drips down both of your chins and drips into the valley between your breasts. You moan into his mouth and your hips cant and grind against his erection that slips into the cleft between your pussy lips and he feels himself slipping further and further into the basest of his needs, the warm slick seeping from your cunt a nectar he can no longer resist.
Kakashi’s fingers slide down your body, dragging through the pool of saliva between your breasts, down your torso, across your belly button, and finally down to your aching pussy. He makes himself useful quickly, one of his long digits replacing his cock and running through your soaked folds. You whine, hips bucking, and he increases the pressure of his finger as he slides it over your slippery clit.
“My pretty little mate is so eager for me, huh?”
Nodding dumbly, you spread your legs further hoping he’ll take the hint to get moving to where you need him the most. Your eyes dart from his face to where his finger slowly slides inside of you, warmth accommodating the digit with ease thanks to how soaked you are, and sweet relief washes over you. Tipping your head back, you softly moan beneath him while he works you open for him - he’ll need all the help he can get if you’re going to take his knot, and a second finger joins the first while his thumb massages your clit just the way you like.
“Oh baby, you feel so good.”
You nod and hum, hips grinding into every thrust of his fingers in and out of you, the sound of your own sloppy pussy making your breaths stutter. Who would have guessed you’d be so into finding out your boyfriend’s not so little secret?
His fingers continue to spread you open, shifting and grinding against the spot deep inside he knows drives you wild, and you know you’re about to cum for the first time tonight when his thumb grinds small circles directly into your sensitive clit. Your back arches off of the couch and you clench around his fingers, mumbling his name. His lips find yours, chests still pressed together, and you whimper into his mouth while your legs shake.
Withdrawing his fingers from inside of you, he holds them up and spreads them apart, breaking away from your lips long enough to let you look at the slick that webs between them when he does. You gasp, his fingers glistening with your arousal, and he smirks.
“Think you’re wet enough for me now. Gonna stuff you full of me, is that what you want?”
Nodding, you shiver, catching a glimpse of the hunger in his eyes. He’s the same man you love and have known for all this time but there’s a hunger you can’t wait to sate dancing in his eyes. Your cunt clenches again, finally ready for more after your orgasm, and he reaches between your bodies to position himself at your entrance.
The first inch isn’t anything you aren’t used to but you still gasp as he slides himself inside of you, your nails digging into his shoulder while his blunt head prods at your eager cunt, slipping inside with ease. He sinks deeper and deeper and you gasp breathlessly when he stops just short of the inflamed knot at the base of his cock.
“Can’t go all the way in, not yet,” he explains, grinding his hips and guiding them to make sure the head of his cock brushes against the same spot his fingers were just working. You are breathless, wordless, and completely overwhelmed, deciding to let him have his way with you however he needs. His hands travel the expanse of your waist, settling on either side of it, thumbs brushing the underside of each of your breasts that bounce slightly with each movement he makes.
He isn’t satisfied keeping his hands at your waist, though, and one travels back down your stomach and rests in the hair covering your mound. He loves the feeling of the hair between his fingers and he stretches his hand so that his thumb brushes against your clit, maintaining steady pressure on the bud while he grinds and thrusts in and out of you.
“Baby,” you coo from beneath him and he smirks, leaning forward enough to fold your legs up against your sides. Your thighs are pressed against your torso and your knees rest by your ears, the shift in position making you groan, shocked at how deep he is despite the whole of him not even being inside of you. “Need it all, Kakashi, please.”
How can he deny you when you ask so sweetly and he’s so close to cumming himself?
Shifting his own position so that he is practically mounting you, the front of his thighs pressed to the backs of yours. It feels like you can hardly breathe with how he has you folded but you don’t mind, succumbing to the mind numbing pleasure of the additional inches of him slowly sinking inside of you.
“Tell me if it hurts, okay?”
You nod, licking your lips, and he continues to push what remains of his cock inside of you. His hips grind and shift and you do your best to lift your own to meet him but he stills you with the hand spread over your pelvis, pressing directly on your clit while you stretch to accommodate his knot that slowly slips inside of you.
The stretch is delicious and your lashes flutter against your cheek, eyes rolling back into your skull. He thrusts shallowly, not wanting to release his knot from your warmth, but he gives in quickly and withdraws his knot. You gasp at the loss of the fullness but he’s quick to rectify his wrong, slipping his knot back into you in a quick motion that leaves you breathless.
“Full,” you spit out with a nod and he chuckles, dipping his head to kiss you again.
“Not as full as I’d like you to be but soon.”
You giggle and kiss him back, his grunts and pants against your lips making you whimper. He’s so sexy and you’re so full of him, your head spinning when his grunts increase in a way you know means that he’s close. His cock spasms inside of you and his thumb doubles down on its ceaseless pace on your clit, his knot swelling as he groans and fills you with his release. His knot remains swollen and keeps his cock in place, the warmth of his spend filling your pussy.
Reaching for his face, you grab both of his cheeks and kiss him, his thumb still rubbing idle circles on your clit until your hips jerk and the sensation becomes too much.
“I love you,” you return his earlier sentiment with a smile against his mouth. He smiles and kisses you back, the two of you afraid to part and technically unable with his engorged knot still inside of you.
“We have to stay like this for a little while,” he explains and you nod, eyes glossy and body limp. “Instincts say I have to make it take even if we both know it won’t.”
Smiling, you keep your grip on his face and kiss him again.
“Do you feel better?”
He nods, sighing contentedly.
“For now but we have a long week ahead of us and the full moon is on Friday.”
Dots connect in your head and you giggle, wrapping your legs around his waist while he gradually shifts and rests his head on your chest.
“Good thing we’ll be all alone in the woods then, huh?”
Kakashi chuckles and nods, kissing you between your breasts.
“My thoughts exactly.”
#kakashi x reader#kakashi hatake x reader#thot-o-ween 2023#monster mash 2023#kendall writes#cw knotting#cw mating
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feral
Wolfhybrid!Bakugo x Reader
nsfw/ MDNI 18+
Warnings: afab reader, aged up characters, lowkey monster fucking (hybrid bakugo has wolf ears, a tail, and fangs), knotting, HUGE breeding kink, no specific dynamics, biting, small blood kink (if you squint), marking/ bonding, heat/ rut behavior, panty sniffing, kind of rough sex, oral (f receiving), and fingering
Summary: Taking in a wolf hybrid already didn’t seem like a good idea, but when spring hits… all hell breaks loose.
Wc: 4.6k
An: Happy Birthday my sweet Kacchan!!!
Taking in a damaged wolf hybrid stray was totally not on your bucket list. But your kind heart wouldn't allow you to leave him outside when it's on the brink of snowing.
It took a couple days after you initially saw him to catch him. His eyes are full of fear but he looks quite scary with his blonde ears pulled back as he snarls at you.
At first you weren't going to keep him but every shelter was either full or wasn't taking in such aggressive hybrids. With a sigh you glance at him again. He's dirtying up your couch by laying facedown on it, an annoyed pout on his face.
"Bath time, dirty boy." The hybrid scoffs and keeps his gaze away from you. With a little encouragement, from some beef jerky, you get him into the tub. His body is scarred, most likely from fighting, and he flinches when you touch him.
He suddenly grabs your wrist when trying to wash his lower abdomen. "Don't touch," he snarls. His vermillion eyes pierce into yours.
"Wash there then. I'll clean your face." You give him the loofah and grab a rag to clean the dirt off his face. The scowl never leaves his face, dirty or clean.
What you learn soon enough is that your new hybrid is a biter. He nips and bites if you do something he doesn't like. Not enough to draw blood but enough for it to hurt and warn you there'll be consequences if you keep doing what you're doing. He doesn't like to be pet. He doesn't like when you sit next to him. Lastly, he absolutely despises the collar you bought him. It's just a simple red collar with a bone shaped tag.
"C'mon Kacchan. Let me put it on." Since he refuses to tell you his name you gave him a nickname. Whenever you manage to get him to speak it's mostly explosive, hence the name.
"Get that shit away from me!," he growls, baring his teeth at you. You really didn't need any more bites.
"What if you get lost?"
He's quick to quip back, "Not like you wanted me anyways."
You sigh. "Please Kacchan?"
"Stop callin' me that dammit!," he groans.
"Then for God's sake tell me your name!" He's quiet now, looking away from you. He's met his match. You're just as stubborn as him.
The response is quiet but it makes you smile. "It's Katsuki. Now leave me alone." You're slowly cracking his hard exterior.
After that moment Katsuki slowly started to warm up to you. He seldom bit you anymore, resorting to glaring or growling if he didn't like something. Some nights he would sit next to you on the couch while you worked a little late to finish a project for work. His tail would wag slightly when you place a hand on his head.
There were days when he would wait at the door for you to come home. When you were late he would grumble out, "took you long enough." On the inside he was relieved you returned home to him. His words often contradicted how he really felt. The hybrid always complained that you got on his nerves and that he doesn't even like you. But you don't miss the way his tail thumps and his eyes close when your hand caresses the back of his pointed ears.
Katsuki has also grown accustomed to your bed. He starts off on his own side of the bed but his body ends up gravitating to yours. His nose is nuzzled into your neck and his strong arms hold you to his warm body. It's very cute to you.
-
The weather is starting to warm a bit and Katsuki grows worried for two reasons. One, he thinks you're going to kick him to the curb now that it's not shivering cold. Two, his body is going through a change. He's not sure how he's going to act if he ends up staying. When he's far enough from women it's not so bad to manage. But you're here. And he kind of likes you, likes your scent. Sometimes you look really pretty after a shower and in your pajamas. The blonde knows he's in trouble already.
Something sour would stir in him when you came back smelling like another man. "Where've you been?," he grumbles.
You shrug off your coat. "On a date. Sorry for being late." When you go to pet him he backs up, flattening his ears on his head. He huffs and lazily stretches out on the couch. He made the decision to sleep there tonight.
As time passes and you go on more failed dates, Katsuki has grown distant and cold. He's almost resorted back to his old self, just without the biting. He's also started ripping things or chewing things up, like books or anything plastic you leave out.
"Katsuki." He doesn't even spare you a glance as he lounges on your bed, on his belly with his head slightly hanging off the furniture, having messed up your neatly made sheets and blankets. "What's wrong buddy?"
He rolls his eyes and sucks his teeth. "Nothing"
You knew how to perk him up. "Wanna go out for a walk?" His tail slightly wags on instinct. His body betrays him. "Aww Katsuki wants to go walkies," you coo at him. His tail wags harder despite the annoyed expression on his face.
"I'll wear the damn collar but not the leash," he snaps.
"I have to bring the leash still because you're a troublemaker but you don't have to wear it. Deal?" He nods and gets off the bed. "Ah one more thing." You stop him in the doorway and feel so small compared to his massive size.
He shakes his head. " 'm not wearing that shit."
"Kacchan, if you want to go out you have to wear it. It's the law."
He sits on the floor with a pout, crossing his arms. "Then I won't go." You sigh and grab his collar and muzzle that he refuses to wear. Dangerous hybrids like him are permitted to wear a muzzle out in public. The last time he wore it was to the doctor. He hated the fabric on his face more than the doctor touching him and he dislikes being touched.
Katsuki lets you fasten the collar on him but growls when you hold the muzzle up to his face. "Stop being a baby." He swats it away from him and you groan.
"Told you I don't want it," he mumbles. He's surprisingly not as aggressive as you thought he would be.
You were so tired of him not listening. So you grab the muzzle again and straddle his lap. His body tenses. He realizes he's never been this up close and personal to you before without being asleep. Your sweet scent fills his nose and keeps him distracted long enough, almost dizzying him, for you to fasten the muzzle on him.
The lingering thoughts about how warm your body is is cut short by you tightening the stupid thing on his face. "Wasn't so bad Kacchan, see?"
He says nothing when you climb off his lap. Instead he just gets up and follows you to the door, hands stuffed in his pockets and shoulders slightly hunched. He felt all prickly from the uncomfortable feeling of the thing on his face.
The sun shines, making it a bit warm outside. Katsuki likes it. He misses the outdoors. His head lifts up to sniff the outside world. But one smell kept standing out among all the others.
When he glances at you he feels this weird sensation stirring in his belly. You smile at him when you catch his eyes. "This feel nice, Katsuki? Gotta get out more often."
He nods and walks alongside you, his arm brushing against yours. "Feels nice," he says softly; you almost didn't catch it. As you two walk he notices how your knuckles keep brushing his. It ignites a fire in his stomach, like when he eats something spicy. Is he sick?
You two reach a park, a pond nearby. He would have enjoyed chasing the ducks around here but he'll try to behave for once. Ruby colored irises watch you sit on a bench. He stays close by, crouching over by the pond. His tail subtly wags as he watches a turtle walk by him.
While he's busy enjoying himself, loving the sun on his skin, something suddenly feels off. He looks behind him and sees a man talking to you. Your body language looks different than usual and he can smell your anxiety. Katsuki rose up and strolled over to you, feeling a growl deep in his chest.
Katsuki's big body slots himself between you and the man. "You're not wanted here." It's a miracle he isn't shouting.
"Katsuki stop it. Be nice," you reprimand him. In actuality you're happy the hybrid was here. This man was a failed date because he made you uncomfortable. Too handsy and talked about himself a lot. Somehow you escaped but your bad luck has you encountering him once again.
"Who's this?," the man asks with a tilt of his head.
"Your worst nightmare. Now leave!," he growls and towers over the guy. You're not sure what Katsuki will do so you hook the leash on his collar.
The guy scowls now. "I suggest you get your mutt under control y/n."
Your eyes widen as you tug on Katsuki's leash but he doesn't budge. "C'mon Katsuki. We gotta go home."
The ash blonde isn't listening. He wishes he didn't have this stupid muzzle on or he would have ripped through this guy's throat out with his teeth already. "Come around her again and you won't be able to eat solid food for a month," he spits. Then he turns around and walks off, tail wagging furiously.
He practically drags you with him, your hand still clutching his leash. You're in shock for once that Katsuki handled himself in a situation that usually would have been deemed deadly.
When you two make it home, you go to the kitchen and grab some beef jerky. You toss him the bag. "All yours for being a good boy Katsuki." And when you say good boy and Katsuki together his heart quickens. He loves it. Suddenly all he wants is to be your good boy.
For the next couple weeks Katsuki has been oddly sweet. He rests his head in your lap while you watch Tv and lazily scratch his head. He greets you at the door every day with his collar on and muzzle in hand to go for a walk and acts accordingly the whole time. When he sleeps in your bed he cuddles up to you before falling asleep, nose nuzzled in your neck and body flush against yours.
But when you come home one day and he's nowhere in sight you're worried. The worry becomes anger when you see the place is a mess. Blankets and clothes strewn all over the place, some of them ripped up. You groan and toss your stuff on the kitchen counter. "Katsuki what the hell!"
When you walk into your room you're immediately caught off guard. Your hamper is knocked over, clothes all over the place. Katsuki is on the bed, your used panties in his hand and his nose buried in them. His other hand strokes his cock, aching and hot.
His eyes widen when he notices you in the doorway. He didn't want to get caught doing this. It's embarrassing and he knows he's going to get in trouble. So before you can utter a single cuss word he sprints to the bathroom slamming the door and locking it, panties still in his hand.
This morning he woke up feeling incredibly hot and hazy. His cock ached and leaked in his pajama bottoms. Usually it wouldn't be this bad, this hot and miserable. But he's surrounded by a woman's scent. His primal side kicked in. He needed to breed. This is probably the most painful heat cycle he's experienced.
There's a knock on the door while Katsuki keeps pumping his heavy cock with his hand. Even if he cums, the pain won't fully go away. "Katsuki 'm not mad. C'mon out please?" You were still a little upset but you guessed this would happen eventually.
All he responds back with is whimpers as he keeps up with his ministrations. You sigh and press your forehead to the door. You can hear his whines and grunts. it causes you to clench your thighs a little. "Kacchan I can help you, baby. Just open the door." It's been a while since you got any action. It would be best to help each other out, right?
The blond freezes. He really wants to indulge in his desires. It'll make it so much easier. But for once he's worried he's going to hurt you. He's seen his fellow pack members get so aggressive during their ruts. There's also the trouble of marking. "C'mon Katsuki. Promise I'll be nice. Be a good boy and open the door."
Within a few seconds the door is opened. He looks so much more different than usual. Cheeks flushed, chest heavy, eyes heavy lidded and pupils blown wide. "You- you can help?"
You nod. "Want the real thing right, Katsuki?"
He abashedly looks away. "Not a good idea," he mumbles. He gasps when you start to stroke him. He feels so heavy in your hand and good lord you wonder how the stretch will feel. The blonde bites his tongue to suppress the loud moan that wants to come out. Your hand feels so much better than his.
He encloses a large hand around your wrist to stop you, panting a little. "Gotta tell me what you want Kacchan."
It's hard to force the words out. His brain is all muddled up from his rut. There's only one thing on his mind. "Want it inside." He hates his primal side. His rational thinking is tossed to the wind, and all he can hear in his head is "mate" and "breed." The self control he once had is gone. At this point he'll say or do anything to satisfy this hunger.
"What do we say when we want something buddy?" He knows you're patronizing him but he doesn't care.
He has to clench his jaw while your thumb rubs over his leaking slit. "Pl- please..."
"Good boy," you coo at him and he groans in response. Oh how he loves those fucking words. You remove your hand and start taking your clothes off. The smell of your arousal when you take off your pants hits him like a truck. It's dizzying and he can't think straight.
Before you know it he has you pinned on your back on the bed. With one swift movement he's ripping your panties off. You squeal a little in response. "I kind of liked those, asshole."
Katsuki is definitely not listening, too lost in your scent to pay attention. His mouth salivates over your pussy. The smell is intoxicating and he can already see how wet you are. He traces his tongue over your folds, sort of confused on what to do. He's fully encouraged by your whines above him. You're rolling your hips against his tongue and he just follows your lead.
When your fingers card through his hair he lets out a whimper. Everything on his body is so sensitive, especially his ears, tail and of course his leaking cock. But he ignores the ache, too busy getting absolutely pussy drunk.
His face is drenched in a mix of his saliva and your juices. "Oh god Katsuki!" One of his fingers pushes inside you while he suckles your clit. He angles his finger just right and you whine, almost squishing him between your thighs when you try to close them.
He takes slow drawn out licks and adds another finger. He didn't want to hurt you when he finally sank himself inside of you. "Is it good?"
Your reply is a low drawn out moan when he had suddenly curled his fingers up towards your spot. "J- just like that- fuck!" The way his tongue traces delicately over your nub while he fucks his fingers knuckles deep into you has you tearing up.
He notices the way your legs shake and presses a little harder on your spot. "There?," he asks with a head tilt. His innocence is downright adorable.
You nod frantically. "Right there! Don't stop," you moan. Your grip on his hair tightens and he growls a little into your pussy. His finger and tongue movements grow more fervent. He needs to relieve this fucking ache.
When he hears you shriek and sees you start trembling he's sure he's done something right. You glance down at Katsuki as you come down from your high. He withdraws his fingers, spit connecting his tongue to your drooling sex. He looks just ethereal to you.
"Did so good, Katsuki. Now I want you to put it in." His ears twitch at the thought. He's quick to stand up and starts lining himself up but something doesn't feel quite right. This isn't right, he thinks.
It surprises you when Katsuki suddenly manhandles you on all fours. One of his large palms lays between your shoulder blades, pressing your upper half flat on the bed. That's better. He needs to breed you right.
When he slowly starts to push in he groans deeply from the pleasure. You clutch the sheets hard because just his tip feels large. You're panting and whining as he starts plunging every inch into you. When he's all the way in he feels like cumming. This feeling... he wants to remember it forever. Your walls are so snug and tight around him. The warmth resembles your body when he sleeps next to it. And god he loves it.
"Y- you can move Katsuki." That's all he needed to pull all the way out to the tip and slam back inside.
"Fuck...," he curses under his breath. Every single thrust is hard and deep, like he's trying to keep himself inside your tight heat as much as possible. His whole body shudders whenever you moan or cry for him.
There's tears in your eyes from him slamming into your cervix and stretching your walls to accommodate him. "K- Katsuki," you moan and gasp when he goes faster, hips flush to your ass, making a loud clap ring through the room.
His huge body looms over yours, teeth bared. He has to resist the urge to claim you. It would be so easy but he knows you're not a hybrid. It wouldn't mean anything to you and just bond him to you. He wouldn't be able to leave after that. It would make his heats worse because he would have a mate to breed.
Instead he threads his fingers into your hair, smushing your face into the mattress as you sob from the pleasure. You're making an absolute mess, a ring of cream glistening on Katsuki's cock.
It's getting hard to keep your arch with the hybrid's weight on you and your incoming orgasm. When you start straightening your back, a heavy smack on your ass jolts your body. "Keep it like that," he growls. So you obey and keep yourself arched for him. You bite your lip hard and keep up the onslaught of his brutal thrusting.
His thrusts are getting more shallow and sloppy and he's panting hard. "Gonna fucking-," he lets out a loud groan and stills his hips. It's so hot as he cums deep in you. His whole body trembles and he clenches his jaw tight. You gasp when you feel something weird.
"Katsuki is- are you- "
"Gotta keep it in," he cuts you off and it sounds off. Like it's not even him anymore. You feel so unbelievably full with his knot swelling in you. He nudges it a little deeper in you and you squeak.
"Too deep Katsuki please." It feels like he's going to pull out but instead he thrusts back in again with a grunt.
"Yer wasting it. Gotta give you more." Your jaw slacks as he goes back to that rough fast pace again. Knocking into your cervix with vigor and making you cry out. Hot tears trail down your cheeks and you hold onto the sheets for dear life. He leans over your body and digs his teeth into the back of your shoulder.
You scream out. "Katsuki please! It hurts!" His mind has become a mess and he can't even focus on your yelling. His teeth pierce the skin and he's licking up any blood that seeps out. His thrusts slow a little, still making sure to fill you the brim with his cock. He groans deeply as he litters kisses on your back and shoulders.
"S- sorry. I just..." The carnal need is still there but he finally got a handle on it. He pulls out. "I- Did I hurt you?" He's become so timid now you can barely recognize his voice.
" 'm okay. Just give me a second," you pant out as you take a breather. His body is still searing with need. Just one try isn't enough for him. He also did something stupid. Katsuki isn't the type to act recklessly. The mark on your shoulder, created with his sharp teeth, stares back at him. Fuck! He let his feral wolf brain take over and slipped up.
You turn over carefully, the start of the pain shooting through your legs. "I-," he starts but then tucks his lip between his teeth at the sight in front of him. You're spread out like a fucking meal, ready for him to devour and his cum leaking from you. That desire wells up inside him once again, threatening to burst if he doesn't have his way. "Let me..." He can't even get the rest of his sentence out.
You haven't had someone treat you like this in a long while. Plus you wanted to help him. Your sweet wolf boy Katsuki. Although he's been a huge pain in the ass you can't help but feel overjoyed when seeing the cracks in his hard exterior. So you lay back and spread your legs for him. "C'mon Katsuki. Be a good boy and fuck me."
He simply can't fucking argue with that. He crawls back up onto the bed, finding himself between your legs once again. His eyes roll back when he angles his hips and inches himself back into your pleasant cunt that still leaks with his warm seed. The hybrid can feel himself losing his rationality once again. It's like second nature, his brain completely switching itself off as soon as he's buried between your legs.
Katsuki takes your calves and hooks them in the crooks of his arms then he puts some of his weight on you, folding you up like a breakfast omelet. Fuck, he's really deep. You have to take a deep breath in order to relax yourself. The hybrid starts the rocking of his hips and you gasp out and arch your back, pressing your chest even closer to his. The hybrid tries so hard to keep himself under control but his pace increases and he's back to growling and moaning while stuffing himself into your cunt.
Nails dig into his strong back but it doesn't even deter him. In fact it spurs him on even more. "Fuck Katsuki!," you yell out when he keeps nudging right up against that spot again. Sane, normally on edge, Katsuki is no more right now. The absolutely feral pace he sets has you screaming and marking his back up. Your teeth sink into his neck and he hisses, getting even closer. When your tongue licks at the mark, he moans and slows his thrusts a bit.
To be enveloped in warmth like this. It's something new and something he didn't know he desired this whole time. For just a moment his sanity poked through and allowed him to brush your lips with his. It was inexperienced but tender. Your fingers thread through his spiky ash blond locks while you kiss back, guiding him into a little more heated kiss. When you suck on his tongue his control slips and he slams his hips into yours. You moan loudly and tug at his hair, resulting in a yelp from him.
Now his feral behavior is returning again. His pace goes back to insanely hard, pulling all the way out to just slam back in, aimed right at your spot like he's a damn expert at this. You tug even harder at his hair and tears spring into your eyes at his roughness. "Fuck fuck fuck!," he groans out, feeling his orgasm creep up on him again.
"M- my good boy, Katsuki! Good b- boy!" That only drives him crazier, intent to breed even heavier on his mind.
"W- want... inside!" The blonde's words are incoherent in his head, not allowing him to form an intelligible sentence. He pants hard and finally pushes himself deep into you again, knot swelling in his cock. His hands damn near shred the sheets when he cums, gripping at it like he's trying to keep his grasp on reality. He lets out a deep moan as he fills you deeply with yet another load.
The room is filled with hard pants and light smacking from little kisses shared. Has Katsuki wagging his fluffy tail. Carefully, he moves you two, unhooking your sore legs and rolling you two over so you're on top of him. He doesn't remove himself from your warmth, his stupid hybrid brain forcing him to think he's creating offspring.
Katuski is... affectionate afterwards. He's nuzzling his face into your neck and cheek, making a low rumbling noise deep in his throat. His large hands rub over your back and he leaves the softest kisses and little nips against your jaw. It's really cute seeing him like this but for the hybrid it's a nightmare. The animal part of his brain is still taking over, soothing his new partner even though his body doesn't know you're not a hybrid so it didn't matter. His inner wolf doesn't care though. It thinks he found somebody to be with and now he needs to procreate to continue his bloodline.
"I'll be out of your hair after my heat," he manages to get out finally.
Your eyes widen. "Katsuki that's not-"
"No! I went too far. This shouldn't have happened and I marked you so it's an even worse idea for me to be here."
You didn't really educate yourself much on the reproductive side of hybrids but you did know marking is important to them. It keeps two hybrids bound together for the rest of their lives. If the other dies or is far away from the other one it causes them to be in great pain. You wouldn't want to cause Katuski that pain. There's a reason you saved him. He looked lost and in trouble. He shouldn't have to go through that and deserved a comfy life. "Katsuki I can't let you leave. We're bonded. So don't say words like that or no more beef jerky."
He looks at you finally and feels overwhelming emotions but doesn't express them. Instead he pouts with irritation. "Fine... I'll stay I guess." He's grateful though and continues to show it with a couple more hours of gentler loving.
tag list: @spitcrank @luvkun4 @delirious-donna @noritopia @chosovixen @lex-dear
#bakugo x reader#katsuki x reader#katsuki smut#bakugo smut#my hero academia#cw knotting#smiley’s works <3
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Kinktober Day 3
Knotting
MINORS DNI
dom top amab gn beastman reader, sub bottom trans man Leona, knotting, heats/ruts, mention of piss.
You're still getting used to how affectionate Leona gets when he's knotted during his heat.
He's got his face nuzzled into your neck, licking your scent gland with his rough tongue, all tight and slick around your swollen knot, purring like he's in heaven.
Running your hand through his long hair, Leona nips your neck gently before lifting his head out of your shoulder.
"How're you feeling?" you ask, tucking some of his sweat soaked hair behind one of his ears, and scratching behind them.
"Good," he rumbles, looking down where the two of you are connected, "you?" He's made it clear that he's upset that your rut wasn't triggered when he went into heat. He hadn't said it out loud, but you know he feels bad that he's so needy and clingy when you're not in the same headspace. Lucky for him, you know you can keep up.
"Oh baby," you smile, kissing his scarred cheek, "I'm feeling great with you on my knot," Leona moans softly, tilting his head to kiss your lips properly.
"Feels good," he mumbles against your mouth. You hum, rocking your hips into him,
"Tell me more, kitten," you urge, feeling lust sink it's way back into your loins already. With the way Leona's pussy has started leaking slick onto your cock, you can tell he's in a similar state.
"You're deep, and- and stretching me- it's good- you're going to knock me up, yeah?" he says it like it's a question. You dig your claws into his hips and Leona keens.
"Course, I'm gonna knock you up kitty, gonna give you cubs," you promise. His eyes flutter shut, and he sticks his face back into your neck, inhaling your scent deeply.
"Going to..." he pauses for a moment, letting out a shuddering breath, "piss in me?" he practically whispers. You moan, but it comes out sounding more like a growl.
"Yeah baby, you want that?" he's nodding before you can continue, "I'll piss in you, keep it deep in you, fill up your womb with it, keep it plugged up in you with my knot," Leona lets out a pleased hum.
"Thank you," he mumbles softly, so quiet you can barely make it out, and fuck if that ain't the hottest response he could've given you. Despite being stuck together via your knot, you still attempt to thrust your hips into him. Leona whines, bringing a hand down to sloppily play with his clit.
"Fuck, I'm close," he whines, pressing himself to you like he wants to be stuck together forever. You lean in to mouth at his scent gland, which overwhelms you with the scent of pleasure and desperation. Grazing your teeth against him is what sets him off.
He cums around your knot with a choked moan of your name. You sink your teeth into his skin, nearly finding your own climax when he squeezes and twitches around your knot. You can't wait for it to deflate so you can return to pounding him into the mattress like he so desperately needs.
#read someone on here complaining that lions dont purr so leona wouldnt purr. fuck you yes he would.#spice#kinktober/2023#sub twst#sub leona kingscholar#cw knotting#p/iss
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♛┈⛧┈┈•༶ Fawn is Thinking about...
Fem!Reader with a Bunny/Puppy/Kitty Hybrid!
[ CW | Talks of breeding and pregnancy, Kitty is sadistic asshole, and reader deals with their shit, Degradation, praise, Brats, animalistic behaviors, not proofread, biting, Heat cycle, brief mention of periods, overstimulation, might make a full post out of some of these ]
Bunny! Hybrid
Fluffy little bastard.
Biggest brat, will stomp around if you say no over the stupidest of things.
Like, No sweetie you can't tear up the new couch I just got, you can't throw plates out the window just because you like watching people getting hit, and no you can't chew on the cables.
Gives you the silent treatment for a couple of minutes, before realizing how much he loves your attention and ends up completely forgetting whatever he was pissy about.
Depending on the type of rabbit this mf is either tall as hell or tiny. So imagining a 6'0 Flemish Giant rabbit throw the equivalent of a toddlers tantrum because you told him to NOT bite your fingers off is just funny.
On the topic of biting, this mf bites EVERYTHING including you.
The first week you had him you had to use the lemon trick because everything that was chewable was in fact chewed upon, he'd probably eat insulation if possible
His ears are so... Cute??? Depending on the type of rabbit they can be floppy or straight up but it's adorable on em' anyways,
I can just imagine ears turning in your direction anytime you catch his attention, pink nose slightly twitching as he watches you in vague interest.
Steals everything, he probably doesn't even mean to because he just has this attitude of "Everything you have is mine, and everything I have is only mine." So he just subconsciously steals your clothes and what not.
When he's not being an annoying little shit he's the best cuddler, all that fluff isn't just for the cold. He'll feel like the softest plushie in the world
— NSFW
Oh your first time dealing with a Rabbit in heat was hell, and he was trying so hard not to snap with you around.
He's all but confused why you haven't cracked yet, it's not like keeping Hybrids as pets is considered acceptable anyways. You'd just be fitting out your role if you let him fuck.
Taking the term fucking like bunnies to the max.
Every day, on any surface— you actually probably would be pregnant if not for the fact that you are two different species
I think his favorite position is missionary, not only does he get to watch how you react— Eating up every little emotion but he gets perfect access to your tits
And this may be my barely disguised fetish sneaking in but I feel like he'd be a titty man. A cups, C cups D cups doesn't matter— he just fucking love tits, using any excuse he can to be buried in between them.
Thinkin' about how sensitive his ears and little fluffy tail becomes, almost Cumming in his pants (or in you) from just the feeling of you tugging on them.
On the days you couldn't too sore n' tired to go another round he resorts to thigh fucking, shaky hands trying so desperately not to accidentally claw into your thighs— Tapered tip grinding against your clit perfectly with each needy thrust
High pitched whines escapes him, his hips mindlessly rutting against you in his chase for pleasure. "Pleasepleaseplease let me fuck you." He pleaded, grinding his cock against your hole— whimpering at the resistance the damp fabric separating you two provided.
"'M sorry for bein such a brat— I'll be such a good bunny f' you." He slurred leaning down and burying his face into your chest. Nibbling and licking the supple skin covering your harden nipples in spit and saliva. "So please please let me in."
Puppy! Hybrid
Oh, baby is so sweet its insane
He's so expressive— Visibly lighting up when you enter the room, all smiles and giggles with his tail wagging aggressively
Fully domesticated boy wife. Cleans the house while your gone, packing you homemade lunch with the cutest little designs, has dinner and a bath prepared by the time your back home
Husky Hybrids are so fucking???? They're loud, they WILL team up on you, and shed every.fucking.where.
Guiltrips you with puppy eyes any time he does something bad, he does it even without the mistake- If he wants extra treats or if he's trying to convince you to stay home a little longer
He accidentally breaks a glass vase? Puppy eyes.
Vet visits are fucking horrible, cause at first he'll be so happy because he thinks you're going to the park, but the moment he realizes you took the wrong turn he's a whining mess
Refused to talk to you for a few days after because he had to wear the cone of shame
— NSFW
I think he'd actually be in more control during heat season, probably waiting for your own mating season to come before acting on any urges
Early on in your relationship he was so confused why you never go through heat. Literally would spend months watching you waiting for it to come just for it to never. And baby boy was so confused.
that was until he did research, pup was so worried about you— Genuinely wondering how your species grew to the size it did when apparently your 'heat' cycle was all year.
Cause how are you supposed to tell who's ready to breed and when??
It didn't take long for him to find out about a magical thing that exists before your period there's this magical thing called ovulation
And now you deal with a doggy who keeps track of everything in your menstruation cycle— in three different calendars + you get sniffed because he's slowly realizing that during ovulation your scent slightly changes
The biggest switch ever, sometimes you'll be riding him into a mattress while he's crying from overstimulation— Begging you to fuck him till he can only shoot out blanks
Or he's fucking you into the mattress, holding your hips firmly against his so he's able to reach and fuck with those spots in you that have you so needy beneath him
When he knotted you for the first time it was a little bit of a surprise— Like you seen the base of his cock swell up before but it was never in you
So the feeling of all that cum being trapped inside, a fat knot just keeping you plugged up was definitely a new and welcomed one
That experience probably unlocked something in him, because after that day he begs to breed you 24/7
He's some level of delusional cause he thinks that if he tries hard enough he can actually get you pregnant
Will spend hours on foreplay, especially if he's the Dom. Will forcefully hold your legs wide open, eagerly lapping and sucking your pussy. Fingers pumpin' in and outta you despite the fact you already came three times earlier
Thinking about a tall 6'3 doberman melting at the simplest of your touch— Crying and begging for your attention to be directed to the twitching dick in his pants
Or a tiny 5'2 Chihuahua somehow tying you up, and has your legs spread, arms behind your back, overstimulated as all hell because of the dildo squirming and vibrating inside of you— A cute pastel pink vibrator taped down to your sensitive, overwhelmed clit
Just so many possibilities...
The loving yet lust hazed eyes looking down on you almost made you wanna forgive him, but that thought is thrown out the window when you remember it was those same pretty eyes that put you in this situation— Pussy clenching around nothing, desperate to be filled up with something anything. "You're so pretty— Can you cum like that f' me one more time?" He asked, but by the way his eyes flickered down to your twitching cunt you doubt he' cares for an actual answer
Not that you can form any, mind too stupid and fucked out to fully register the weight behind his words. More focused on the way his thumb draws sticky shapes all over your clit, two fingers finally sinking into the warmth of your cunt and pumping in and out of you.
"Just one more and I'll stuff you full of my cum, gonna make you my baby mama... you'd look so pretty with swollen breasts and a stomach round with my kids in ya"
Kitty! Hybrid
Meanest little shit to you
Not even in a bratty way, he's like an actually asshole— Conveniently bumping into vases and glasses 'on accident'
You have too many scars to count, you don't think he even does it in purpose. His claws are just naturally sharp, and any attempt at cutting them ends with him awkwardly apologizing while tending to the now bleeding scratch marks on your forearms
I think he's probably the only one who in general has a consistent height excluding the big boy breeds. Maybe a bit taller than you but no major height differences.
You have so many nicknames you're 90% sure he forgot your real one. But his most favorite ones to use are 'Peasant' and 'Slave'
He can't cook for shit.
Tried making you something as an apology but ended up almost burning the kitchen
And don't get me started on the dead rodents
A annoying asshole yet wants you to praise and focus all your attention on him
Scents you as well but it's a little more obvious
Nuzzling himself into your neck, wears all your clothes to make sure his scent sticks
Gets actually offended when you wash your clothes because of that.
— NSFW
The scratches and bite marks aren't limited to outside the bedroom
It's not even on purpose at this point, he is so overwhelmed that he can't help it that his claws dig into your skin.
Orgasm
A choked gasp spilled from your lips, the pressure on your throat as your cunt was being abused was enough to have your eyes Rolling back, Tears sticking to your eyelashes.
"God you're disgusting, to get off being treated like trash—" He panted, his nails digging into the fat of your hips the stinging sensation mixing with the overwhelming pleasure.
"Do you even deserve my cum?" He mocked, leaning down to bite and suck at the nape of your neck adding to the collection of bruises and bite marks that decorated on your skin.
#writing#fanfic#fiction#drabble#smut tw#smut tag#smut smut fic#tw knotting#cw knotting#cw overstimulation#tw overstim#Fawn | Puppy#Fawn | Kitty#Fawn | Bunny#cw menstruation#fem reader#female reader#f!reader#cw animalistic behavior#heat cycles#tw sadism#nsft#hornyposting#hybrid x reader#fawns wc
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okay but imagine if going through the wolf tf gave eden a knotted cock. and his spouse tries to get him to come around on his new form by showing him how good it feels to knot them 👀
Eden, alone during a hunt, playing with himself after having pissed on the side of a tree. It's... odd. Not exactly unpleasant.
The knot swells as his thumbs press on the soft flesh there, his face flaring as he puts himself away and heads home. No catch today, but you have reserves.
His tail catches against bushes, annoying him greatly. His ears pick up every little sound, only making him even more jumpy than he already was.
His swollen cock is the greatest annoyance, one he plans on taking care of as soon as he gets to the cabin. As soon as he gets to you.
The hunter practically tackles you into the dirt, your light laughter and quick hands displacing your clothes telling of your own eagerness. It's rough, frantic, feral as he pumps himself in and out - his knot catching the more it swells until it binds you together and slows his thrusts to incessant grinding.
Your spongy walls sucker to his knot like a kiss, his cock finding all of your sweet spots and coaxing screams from your open mouth until your body freezes before the spasms wrack you.
"I don't think I'll ever get tired of feeling that," you huff out, fingers wiping stray hairs from his forehead.
Eden can only hum in agreement. For all of the downsides of his new form, the knot at least brings a new pleasure.
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okay but imagine werewolf best friend kiba who has wanted and loved you for years. who has pined and craved and fucked a pair of your underwear and chased off so many 'rivals' behind your back.
imagine going away for college and reconnecting. maybe you go camping. maybe you trigger his rut earlier because he's wanted you for so fucking long that it can't be contained. him at the entrance, unzipping it, crawling over you, waking you up with his head between your legs and begging for you to 'help him out'. for 'just the tip'
but it ends up with him knotting and breeding you and you wake up with his mark on your shoulder and he's already pawing at you again
Finding peace in the spontaneous wild (that is you)
18+ MDNI, fem!reader/werewolf!bsf!kiba
premise: when an accidental encounter with your former childhood best friend leads you to agree to a one-night camping trip consisting of just you two, you discover that there’s more to your friendship than initially meets the eye.
cw: monsterfucking (he's mostly in his human form, though), knotting, creampie, implied breeding, mounting, size difference, omegaverse themes.
college/modern AU. friends to lovers, one bed trope (kind of, they’re sharing sleeping bags in the same tent), unestablished mating bond, mutual pining, lots of bickering and misunderstandings; they get into one big fight (kiba and reader are polar opposites personality-wise and tend to agree to disagree), usage of sweetheart and bunny as pet names for reader. i think that's everything?
wc: 26.2k
find part two here!
———
You run into Kiba at the grocery store, around two weeks after returning home from college.
It’s completely coincidental; neither of you expects it to happen. You catch him standing next to the fruit section, picking the best-looking oranges out of the bunch with slightly pinched eyebrows and narrowed eyes, and before you can even ready yourself to approach him, he already beats you to it.
He blinds you with his grin despite the distance between you as you raise your hand to wave him over. A single dimple that you were already expecting appears in his right cheek. His smile is toothy and friendly; nostalgic. It throws you back to a much simpler time.
After all, you’ve known each other for years — you and Kiba go way back. Back to when your only concern had been what cartoons to watch, and the urgency to come back home well before it got dark outside was a rule set in stone.
Back then, the world seemed to be splashed with brighter, more vibrant colours than it is now. A sugar rush was the best thing to ever happen to you before you came crashing down twice as hard, and your mother had called you downstairs for breakfast every single morning before ruffling your hair and rushing off to work.
Now, you’re happy if you get the chance to FaceTime with her once or twice a week while you’re away at college. Your hair certainly doesn’t get ruffled anymore and you make breakfast yourself.
Even the trees in your neighborhood have changed, no longer appearing as tall as they used to be because, well, back then you were the smaller one. The sidewalk on your street was sizzling hot with summer heat, but now it's getting worse each year, and your feet aren’t bare anymore as you walk on it; no longer trekking the familiar route that would lead you to the house of the very boy, who now stands before you in the middle of the grocery store instead of leaning against the open doorway of his childhood home, impatiently waiting to pull you inside.
You used to spend nearly every single day with him. Going on adventures with your bikes — you with your helmet on, him without — until your legs were aching from pedaling so much had become a daily thing of sorts. Constantly coming up with new ways to entertain your never-satisfied, highly imaginative kid brains was a favoured pastime. Wearing scrapes of all shapes and sizes on your knees and palms like they were badges of honor was a thing to be expected.
But that’s all gone now.
Because now, you’re both adults. Juggling jobs and degrees — well, at least one of you is, not that you’re surprised in any way that Kiba hasn’t chosen to try his hand at college — and all that other crap that consists of time-consuming responsibilities that can be quite pesky and bothersome, but make your lives easier to live nonetheless.
It feels like an aeon has passed as a result. Like your childhood had been whisked away from you by neither of you ever realizing it until it was far too late. So, you’ve drifted apart. It tends to happen.
Come to think of it, when was the last time you’d seen your trusted partner in crime? Three years ago? Or has it been four already? You’re unsure.
All you know is that it’s been long. Too long. College feels like it’s been nothing but a rather confusing blur, to say the least.
But so does Kiba.
And so do you.
You’ve both become utterly indecipherable in each other’s eyes. Like foggy glass on a rainy morning.
So you use a couple of moments to merely look at each other because of it; to wipe the condensation off the glass with the sleeves of your phantom sweaters. Him, with those goddamn oranges that he’s still holding in his too-big hands, and you, with your shopping cart that you forgot back at the end of aisle 7 twice already.
You stare and stare and stare, all until your burning curiosity finally gets the best of you, and you can’t help but invite him to approach you with a not at all subtle aim to appease it.
Kiba visibly perks up when you wave him over. He shoves the oranges into a reusable bag that his mom had always nagged him about using, and walks over with that confident stride you’d always envied him for having.
And then all of a sudden he’s right there, in the flesh. Looking the same as he’d always looked, but also not at all.
It’s weird. His smile is the same but the face that surrounds it has changed. Finding yourself in his presence again after a period that you’d describe nothing short of a small eternity, you realize that even if the grin of your childhood best friend is an exact replica of his old one, everything else has either faded away or been replaced by something new.
And new means foreign.
Because as you tip your head slightly upwards to initiate proper eye contact this time, you realize that Kiba has gotten taller. Way taller. Even with his posture relaxed, he towers above you with no effort; something he didn’t get to do back when you’d been nothing but a pair of runts, practically conjoined at the hip.
And that’s not all there is to it. Besides his impressive height, Kiba has also become broader in the shoulders and longer in the legs since you’ve last seen him. He has a sleeve of insanely intricate tattoos covering nearly the entirety of his left arm; it reaches up to the short sleeve of his light-grey tee and probably up to his shoulder. He’s also lost most of his baby fat, and thus now owns a face more defined than you ever recall it being.
His mop of hair is mostly hidden by the faded baseball cap that he must have put on to fight the summer heat that’s raging outside, however there are still a couple of rogue curls peeking out at the sides and at the nape of his neck. The brim has softened from how old the cap is, not as bent downwards at the corners as it surely used to be ages ago, but at least it still gets the job done.
He’s always had a habit of being lazy whenever it came to getting haircuts. It seems like some things did manage to stay the same, after all.
You investigate further. As far as differences go, the edge of Kiba’s jawline is sharp instead of round, and his cheeks look smooth to the touch. He’s clean-shaven; the embarrassing peach fuzz days, which you used to tease him about for months on end, have ended.
He’s a grown man. A pretty darn healthy, vigorous one, it seems.
And speaking of being healthy, you remember a time when he wasn’t.
———
You’re fourteen again and find yourself back in a rather familiar bedroom.
The air inside the room smells warm, like wood and your second home. The sounds of the house are just the way you remember them being.
There’s someone talking downstairs. Furniture cracks and snaps as it settles in even if it’s old and has had more than enough time to do so already. Dog claws ceaselessly click against the floor. The TV is on. You can hear the weather forecast for tomorrow if you strain your ears hard enough.
And then there’s the shallow breathing.
Oh, yeah. Right.
Kiba’s sick.
Your smile wavers as you keep sitting on the edge of the bed, his bed, that you’d fallen asleep in a rather embarrassing amount of times back when your legs were shorter and it hadn’t been considered awkward or improper just because your best friend belongs to the opposite sex.
The sheets are a tacky design of light blue and white and the mattress is old, but sturdy enough to not cause any worry of having to buy a new one just yet. It supports both his and your own weight fairly well, however it won’t be able to do so for much longer, you think.
You turn your head towards the window. It’s fall and it’s raining outside — the heavy raindrops rattle against the glass every so often whenever the wind catches them, making you stare out at the foggy grayness that sluggishly spirals on the other side.
You’ve left your boots downstairs. In the hallway, where Tsume, Kiba’s mother, had greeted you and ushered you inside the moment you’d come knocking on her front door, looking soaking wet to the bone. Besides your boots, your bright yellow raincoat resides there as well, probably dripping from the hanger onto the floor, making a puddle you’ll have to feverishly apologize for later.
With your train of thought coming to a halt, you eventually grow tired of watching the nearby woods that reside next to the Inuzuka household. So you shift your gaze again.
This time, you focus on the room itself. There are posters taped to the walls, the majority of them depicting movies and rock bands that you’ve never really fancied yourself all that much. The desk is littered with clutter, most of it school-related but you’re able to spot a couple of comics in there as well. The alarm clock on the nightstand is digital; it shows the time.
3:27 PM.
It’s a Thursday afternoon, but it’s also the fourth day that Kiba hasn’t come to school. The seat in the classroom that he usually sits in remains empty — you know that because you keep it reserved for him by placing your backpack on it each morning. He’s been absent ever since the pain in his limbs and the unyielding fever had become too much for even him to handle; the boy who just loves to brag about never getting sick.
All right, you’ve got to cut him some slack because in some way, he isn’t even actually sick? His growth spurt — and his entire puberty experience overall, if you could even call it that — is the thing that has taken such a toll on him, not actual illness.
And in some way, it has taken a toll on you, too. Seeing him ache hurts you just the same, even if your bones aren’t the ones that are currently growing much too fast, much too soon.
So here you are, bringing him copies of the notes that you’ve been religiously taking in class for the fourth day in a row. Keeping him company. Wiping the sweat off his forehead with a rag soaked in water, like a good best friend. Over and over again. Without stop.
His dark brown hair is damp from all the water and sweat, it sticks to his temples. He’s burning up, to the point that his face is flushed pink instead of tan, but he’s still shivering all over underneath the covers.
Your heart hurts as you watch him endure such profound agony; it makes your chest squeeze tight. He’s clearly fallen ill in some shape or form and is in obvious pain, but no matter what you tell him, he simply refuses to go to the doctor’s office.
Truth be told, you feel rather surprised that his mom hasn’t dragged him there herself yet. Taking into account that she’s usually completely unfazed by his overwhelmingly stubborn nature, you’d expected her to not be taking any shit from her son whatsoever and would be firmly setting her foot down when it came to anything concerning his health. Granted, while he did inherit most of his obstinate qualities from her side of the family, the fact that—
“Stop worryin’ so much.”
You blink in surprise. “Mm?”
“I said stop worryin’.”
The feeble request that Kiba makes sounds firmer this time. It makes you look up from the rag you’ve been subconsciously clutching in your hands with a near death grip for the last five minutes or so.
The slightly tingly feeling that dances within them now is somewhat hard to ignore. Especially at the tips of your fingers.
So you rest your hands on your lap, rubbing your palms up and down your jeans just to have something to do now that they’re empty. By the time you finally will yourself to turn your head, Kiba is already looking at you from the confines of the cozy prison that is his bed.
His eyes are nearly half shut, eyelids heavy with lead-weighted exhaustion, but his expression is riddled with an emotion you’re not mature enough yet to fully decipher, much less understand.
Not that you’d ever tell him that, but you'd always considered him as the emotionally smarter one of your little duo; even with his awfully short temper taken into consideration.
After all, while you excelled in academics, Kiba sought different places to thrive and prosper in. It didn’t take a genius to see that he’s practically been made to communicate with others; that he’s a proper people person. Shaped by people to be loved by people.
And the people do tend to love him. They really do.
Now that you think about it, that may also be the reason as to why he has way more friends than you. Why he can usually turn most situations to his favour, while you normally struggle to avoid the worst of outcomes. Why he knows how to read you like an open book Every. Single. Time, while you just play a never-ending guessing game of what’s happening inside that thick skull of his.
You’re an odd pair together. He’s nothing like you and you’re nothing like him. It’s no wonder that some don’t believe you’re actual friends at first, however Kiba has always been fast to prove them wrong. For some unknown reason, he’s attached you to himself and has been pulling you along for the ride ever since the day he first saw you. It’s been like that ever since.
Meanwhile, you’re just happy that you have someone to spend time with. Being so introverted proves to be quite a nuisance whenever it comes to meeting new people and acquiring friends, so he’s pretty much all you’ve got.
And that makes you care for him even more.
“How on earth am I supposed to ‘not worry’,” you begin to say quietly, making air quotes, “when my best friend has been practically chained to his bed for the last four days?”
Immediately, Kiba brushes you off with a flick of the wrist, gesturing that he thinks you’re overreacting. It pisses you off greatly, especially when he says, “Oh, please… I’m fine. You just worry too much.”
“Are you, though?” you ask. “Fine?”
“Are you?”
You exhale through your nose as you attempt to relax and wiggle your fingers, trying to appease him or convince him otherwise, you don’t know.
The truth is, you want to tell him that no, you’re not fine. You want to tell him that you are worried sick for him because he is sick and won’t admit it. You want to tell him that you love him, that you care about him. Not in that kind of way, of course — goodness, no! — but in a way a young teenage girl who doesn’t know any better can love her best friend.
But instead, all you do is stay quiet because being considerate of others is your go-to. Besides, his headache is as bad enough as it is already. Who are you to make it worse by troubling him with your nonsense?
Unfortunately for you, Kiba doesn’t buy your rather bad portrayal of calm. All he does is sigh at it.
Continuously.
“What? What are you sighing for so much?” you instantly snap at the sound and aura of exasperation he emits, now. Your tone is razor sharp, much sharper than it needs to be, but you just can’t help yourself. Being so different from you, he can be outright infuriating sometimes.
“Nothin’,” he answers back, and yet he can’t resist giving you that look that definitely means there is something. “It’s nothin’, bunny.”
Your tone falls flat at the nickname he’s given you because of your rather timid personality, “Liar.”
“Am not.”
“Are too.”
He grunts, sighing again. “Oh, c’mon—”
“What?” you quip again. “You told me not to worry, so here I am; not worrying! I’m doing just like you’ve said.”
The small wrinkle that’s etched itself between your brows deepens as the words rush out of you in one great swoop. It’s clear to you both that you don’t really mean them, but it looks like there’s definitely no sign of you admitting them coming any time soon.
“Fine, whatever.” Kiba almost sounds like he’s grumbling as he says, “You’re not worrying. There. Happy?”
You scoff. “No? Yes? I don’t know if I’m happy!”
He manages a weak smile at your indecisiveness, a mere quirk of an upper lip that’s not nearly as lively as it normally would be if he weren’t so sick. Your body tenses as he shuffles closer to the edge of the bed where you reside and nuzzles his face deeper into the pillow, wiping the sweat off his cheek right into the bedding this time around.
His voice comes across as muffled from the way he’s still hiding his face from view when he says, “I can practically see your brain catching on fire from all that worry that you’re apparently ‘not’ feeling, ya know.”
You can’t stop your eyes from rolling back as far as they’ll go. They just do it completely on their own accord whenever you’re with him, it seems. “And how can you possibly—”
He points at you with one tired hand and winces at how terribly heavy his arm feels with the action. It’s unpleasant and draining, but he wants to prove a point. So he keeps it nice and steady as he says, “Look, there’s smoke comin’ outta your ears already! You better chill out, or that lil’ pea brain of yours is gonna get burnt to a crisp or somethin’.”
He hisses like he’s just burnt himself after he teases you, drawing yet another scoff out of you.
A pout graces your lips as you glare at him from underneath your lashes; ever the unexpected drama queen. “Well, at least I have a brain to burn, unlike yourself.”
His eyes settle on you again. “What’s that supposed t’mean?”
“Exactly what it sounds like, dummy,” you say. “I can bet you five bucks that there’s nothing but hay stored inside that freakishly big head of yours!”
“I—” He bristles at your comment before his eyes open wide and he scowls. “Shut up! My head ain’t big!”
Your expression mirrors his own, now. “No, you shut up!”
“You can’t talk to me like that; I’m sick!”
“So you finally admit that you’re actually sick, huh?”
“No, wait, that’s not what I meant—”
“Nu-uh, you said it so you meant it!”
Everything is quiet as you lean forward to point and dig an accusatory finger into his chest. He tenses but relaxes in a beat of a moment as the remaining pads of your fingers join in and graze the soft cotton of his worn t-shirt. Swipe to the right, then slightly upwards, the flat of your palm rests above the place where his heart lies.
Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump!
His heartbeat is fast. Strong. Like a song that makes you want to scream the lyrics to instead of singing them so that you can feel it better inside the marrow of your bones.
But you don’t feel like listening right now.
“Hey, what’re you—”
He squirms and lets out a small noise of surprise when you suddenly jab him in the ribs.
Exchanging a quick look of betrayal with your best friend as he slaps your hand away, you feel your lips start to quiver. It’s not long before you both succumb and break into a fit of quiet laughter. The tension gradually dissipates with every chuckle and snicker, right along with your worries. At least for a little while, that is.
Kiba’s laugh cracks midway. You’re unsure if it’s because of the fact that he’s not feeling well or because his voice is just getting deeper with age, however you’re still giggling by the time he clears his throat and reaches over to place his hand on top of your own.
Your eyes instinctively flit towards the contact. It’s not anything new, you’ve held hands with him before — god knows you’ve gotten fake-married on at least three different occasions throughout your childhood, and with three different flavoured ring pops, at that — but as you now gaze at the blunt crescents of his nails, you can’t for the life of you remember his hand ever being this hot to the touch.
It’s concerning.
“Dude,” you whisper, your voice slowly dropping from playful to wary. “I don’t want to nag you about it anymore since I know you don’t like it, but I seriously think that you should go see a doctor… You’re burning up and it’s probably—”
You twitch as Kiba gives your hand a gentle, albeit unexpected squeeze to make you look up at him again.
Just like your voice, his expression has switched from his previously boyish one, to a much more somber kind that, truth be told, you’re not used to seeing on his face all that much.
It makes your sentence, well, rambling, gradually fade into silence as you finally indulge him for once by keeping your mouth shut. He used to think you were quiet back when he’d met you. Now he knows that you just have to get comfortable in order to start speaking.
Shadows from the swaying branches outside dance across the side of his face that he hasn’t got buried in the pillow. Looking like he’s contemplating something heavy, Kiba swallows the saliva that’s gathered in his mouth whilst he runs his thumb along your knuckles.
The brief attempt at soothing you manages to bring a smidge of peace to the otherwise growing hurricane of emotions that’s steadily whirling somewhere inside your ribcage, however it’s over much too soon to actually make any difference.
Your look of concern only worsens as a result. Concentrating hard, you manage to repress the sudden urge to start biting your nails and tugging on the sleeves of your cream-coloured sweater that you’ve put on this morning.
“I’m just worried about you, is all,” you admit what he already knows, so quietly that you doubt if he can even hear it. “I just want you to get better.”
“I know,” is all he says. He can smell it on you.
“Then why won’t you—” You squeeze your eyes shut, groaning with irritation. “Gosh, why won’t you just do something about it, then?”
“Because I have to tell you something first,” he trails off somewhat reluctantly, and for once, he sounds like he’s actually being completely serious. “You just… you gotta promise me that you won’t tell anybody.”
Your reply comes quicker than one sequence of his heartbeat, “I promise. Besides, who would I tell anyway?”
“I mean it,” he says. You watch as he shakes his head slowly, sighing for real this time, not just to annoy you. “You seriously can’t tell anybody; not even your mom or Sakura or Ino. Especially Ino, for that matter.”
Offence bubbles within your chest way too fast at the merest hint of distrust. Since when did he start thinking you were one to yap out every little thing he tells you?
“And I really mean it, too,” you fuss, brow wrinkling. “Jeez, Kiba; if I promise you that I’m not going to tell, then I’m really not going to tell! I’m not that close with Ino and Sakura anyway.”
Kiba blinks, seemingly surprised by how heatedly invested you’ve gotten into learning his secret. But also by how close you’ve managed to squeeze yourself next to him with the upset feelings to overwhelm you, briefly forgetting the lengthy speech about how he should go see a doctor. How you wait, evidently impatient and with bated breath, just so that you’d be able to hear every word he has to say.
He’s been seeing you in a different kind of light as of late. So perhaps it’s time that he shed some of it on himself now.
He’s always been one to love the spotlight, after all.
———
“Well, well, well… do my eyes deceive me, or have you finally gotten taller, wolf boy?”
The short laugh Kiba lets out at your innocent taunt doesn’t crack like it did back when you were fourteen. Instead, it’s deep and hearty; it reverberates deep inside his chest, sounding like a voice a storm would possess if it had the ability to speak the human tongue.
“Still insisting on that ol’ nickname?” he asks as he rests one hand on his hip.
“Of course,” you reply, chuckling. It’s hard to take him seriously when he looks like a nearly perfect replica of his mother in that exact moment; standing so disapprovingly, red shopping basket in hand. “I mean, who would I be if I did not make fun of you every chance I get?”
“Well, I dunno,” he mumbles whilst his eyes flick up towards the ceiling, seemingly searching for something. And then he looks at you again, but this time with that infuriating half-smile that you can’t say you’ve missed as he says, “A decent fuckin’ person for a change? Maybe?”
It’s light-hearted, what he says. Fun and provocative, just like he is. Like he’s always been.
So you bite.
“Oh, Kiba, Kiba, Kiba,” you purr, angling your head to one side playfully whilst clicking your tongue against your teeth. Your hand presses against his chest, the action so familiar it’s become muscle memory by now even after years of not initiating it. “When has being decent ever been fun to someone like you, mm?”
And there it is. The strong heartbeat corresponding to the soft lilt that appears in your voice when his name leaves your lips. Just like it’s always done whenever your only goal was to fluster him for ‘funsies’.
However, the interaction that was once so familiar to you is not quite as recognizable this time around.
Because now, it invites his gaze to settle back onto your face rather than pushing it away into the corner of the room.
So he stares at you now. Leers.
You try your best to ignore the way your muscles instinctively stiffen at the sight of the prolonged slits that slowly switch places with his pupils. Try your best to pay no mind to the way your pulse suddenly accelerates, pumping blood and forcing all of your senses to become overwhelmingly acute.
It’s done so fast that it makes you feel sort of dizzy. He stands straighter and every single hair on your body stands to attention in return. Goosebumps cover your skin the same moment as it starts feeling like it’s being pulled taut over your bones. You try to blame the sensation of a chill creeping up the back of your neck on the store’s AC but you know better.
The people who surround you don’t matter anymore. This summer’s hit song that annoyingly keeps on playing on repeat over the speakers above your heads has turned to white noise.
It’s just him and you and you and him. Past, present, future.
And fuck, his irises are no longer brown. They’re darker; golden, almost unnaturally yellow. The colour gets eaten up fast as the pupils expand and shrink continuously. He zeroes in on you, on your mouth, on the curve of your face, on the bare side of your neck that you’ve got exposed with your ponytail and the tilt of your head.
It’s been years since he’s last looked at you like that; that one time before you ran off to college, when you took it a step too far with the innocent flirting and you’ve almost come too close for comfort.
But unlike before, he simply refuses to tear his eyes off of you this time. Refuses to relent. Refuses to blush and turn away in that sheepish way that is so uncharacteristic for an exceptionally, sometimes annoyingly bold person like him and that reminds you more of yourself.
His odd persistence causes him to pin you down with a single look, making you freeze on the spot.
Just like a predator would do to potential prey.
But that’s silly. You’re not prey! You’re his best friend, or well, you used to be once in a time long past. So keeping that in mind, you force yourself to quickly shake the eerie feeling off of your suddenly tense body as if it’s a heavy winter’s coat you’ve foolishly donned on, and ease the sudden tightness that tries so hard to take up residency within your chest, now.
But despite all of the attempts at self-soothing, as well as the countless comforting, reassuring mantras that you keep on playing on a loop inside your head in the same way you do a newly-discovered song on Spotify, you don’t really know what he’s like anymore, now do you?
You haven’t seen him in years, after all. Haven’t spoken to him in ages. You left him all alone, left him to his own devices after he’d given you the same look he’s giving you now.
What if he’s managed to become more wolf than human with all that alone time?
The question makes your head want to hurt, so it’s no wonder that your voice comes out somewhat small-sounding when you finally gather yourself just enough to murmur, “You’re doing the thing again.”
And his sounds just a smidge on edge, just a smidge too sharp as he takes a step closer and mutters, “Thing? What thing?”
“You’ve got, uh… y’know…” You swallow audibly and try not to pay attention to the way his gaze slides down to your throat because of it; to the way it softly bobs as the sticky spit travels down, down, down. You swear that you can see the corners of his lips kick up at the sight of it. “You’ve got nightmare eyes.”
“Huh?” It takes him a second to realize what you mean. To remember one of the old codes you’ve come up with using whenever you’re in public, amongst people who certainly don’t know what he truly is.
And then, at long last, the intensity in his expression ceases and brightens up as the realization dawns upon him. It’s like a lightbulb turning on with the flick of a switch.
“Oh. Shit. Fuck, umm,” he curses like a sailor whenever he’s caught off-guard. It makes you relax just the tiniest bit as he finally musters a genuine, “Fuck, I’m so sorry. I didn’t even… notice.”
You watch as he proceeds to rub his eyes with one hand, all whilst you exhale a long puff of air that you’d almost forgotten you were holding in the first place.
He looks at you again, genuinely confused and apologetic, and this time with pupils back to their regular circular shape. It causes some primal sort of relief that reaches the very core of your psyche to wash over you.
You’re free to move again.
“It’s— Hah, it’s fine,” you manage weakly. “Besides a pretty awkward start to a conversation, it’s no biggie, really.”
“Fine? It definitely ain’t fine,” he retorts immediately. “You wouldn’t be lookin’ like you’re scared shitless right now if it were fine.”
“Me? Scared of you? Oh, please!” You huff, crossing your arms over your chest even if your limbs feel very wobbly and soft like jelly all of a sudden. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
He blinks again, his look a slightly incredulous one. “Don’t tell me you forgot?”
The bridge of your nose scrunches up in mild confusion as you ask, “Forgot what?”
Kiba grumbles this time, pointing to his own nose, “Uh, the fact that I can literally smell the fear on ya…?”
Oh. Oh! He’s right, you somehow did manage to forget that; forget his ability to smell how someone is feeling just from the way their hormone levels change the very base of their scent and the sweat they exude as a result. Or whatever the science behind it is.
Jesus fucking Christ. Him and his stupid wolf genes. What’s next, him pinpointing the day when your next period is due?
As if that hasn’t happened before.
“Wha—...? Of course not! Tsch.” You try to play it off with a click of a tongue that doesn’t manage to convince either of you. “What I don’t remember, however, is giving you permission to sniff me like some sleazy creep.”
“Oh, fuck off,” he bristles immediately at the remark. “You know damn well what I meant.”
You nod. “Yes, that you’re a sleazy creep.”
“Well, what am I supposed to do?” he asks. “Stop breathing around your presence?”
“I mean, it wouldn’t hurt to try.”
He gives you a pointed glare. “It also wouldn’t hurt to try shutting the fuck up every once in a while, and yet here you are.”
“Wow, I can’t believe I’ve also managed to forget what a prick you are.”
“Right back atcha.”
You both share a short laugh at your little faux quarrel, the tension slowly relenting. The entire interaction is familiar.
His shoulders relax, your heartbeat slows down to something a bit more normal. He doesn’t point it out just for the sake of not starting yet another petty argument.
“But seriously, don’t worry about it.” You pause at some point, stifling another brittle chuckle that bubbles up your throat. “I know you can’t control your weird, spooky eyes, okay? And besides, I’m used to them anyway! Well, kind of… I guess I’m used to them…? Gosh, I’m rambling, aren’t I?”
Is it because you’re nervous?
“Still,” he chides, sighing. “It’s been years and I should’ve learned how to fix it by now. It’s just—” He takes a breath. Ponders as various excuses and half-truths start bouncing off the walls inside his head. “It’s just that I dunno how to control it whenever you’re… umm...”
You give him a second, but when he doesn’t say anything else, you bite the bullet to ask, “Whenever I’m what?”
“Ah, nothin’,” he mumbles whilst scratching his cheek. You narrow your eyes as he fixes the brim of his cap. As he tugs on the collar of his thin t-shirt with its stupidly oversized Nike logo. He’s fidgeting all over the place, especially when he feels the need to add, “It’s nothin’.”
It feels like life is repeating itself all over again.
Your curiosity makes you lean further into his space just like you had a habit of doing back when you were kids. Only this time, he doesn’t take your hand. He doesn’t stroke your knuckles one by one, but rather pushes back, creating more space between your bodies.
Well, that’s new.
“C’mon.” Your tone falls slightly flat because of the sudden disappointment that reaches way deeper than you’d expected it to as you ask, “Whenever I’m what?”
He sounds surprisingly stern as he says, “I told you… it’s nothing.”
A long pause ensues. And then all he gets from you is an, “Okay.”
Awkwardness lingers in the air once again. It makes you both uncomfortable because neither of you is really used to the sudden quiet. You’ve gone through so much, so many experiences together and now it’s come to… this? Walking on eggshells around each other until the end of time just because of that one event in the past and now this one?
Fuck no. As if you’re going to let that happen.
So you plaster a smile onto your face, one that doesn’t really reach your eyes just yet as you say, “Just so you know, you’re acting hella weird right now.”
“Well what did you expect, bunny?” He shrugs and you try to act like you don’t notice the way his t-shirt tightens at all the right places with it. Goodness, he’s changed so much in just a couple of years, you can hardly believe it. “I mean, I bump into you after literal years of no contact whatsoever, and when I finally do, all you do is argue with me and call me a, what was it again, ‘sleazy creep’?”
It’s hard not to giggle at the air quotes he feels the need to show you with the two words. It makes your face lighten up as you say, “Stop calling me that.”
“What, bunny?” He smirks, now. Smirks! “Sure. But only after you stop calling me all of your stupid nicknames.”
You muse like a cat. “Why of course, Jacob.”
His expression turns blank in an instant, the smirk gone as quickly as it came. “Seriously?”
“What? It’s just a name, isn’t it?”
“Just so you know, I still regret the day you made me watch Twilight with you.”
“Oh, shush. You loved it, and besides; it was on theme!”
You feel your grin growing into a genuine one as he scoffs and grunts something under his breath in reply. He’s clearly annoyed with all your bullshit.
“Mm?” You blink, the corners of your lips twitching upward, persisting. “What was that?”
“Nothin’.”
“No, no, none of that again. Out with it; I want to hear what you said.”
“Fine.” He rolls his eyes, the honey that swirls in them as dazzling as ever. So syrupy sweet, his irises are an utter delight even under the unflattering fluorescent lights of the store. “I said that you’re still as insufferable as you used to be back when we were kids.”
The chuckle you let out now is one of pure amusement. “Is that so?”
“Yep,” he says as he pops the P. “A goddamn pain in my ass since day one.”
You quirk a brow. “Am I really, now?”
“Who else but you?”
It’s always been you.
His words spark a sensation of genuine fondness to swell so deep within your ribcage that you’re somewhat unsure of what to do with it.
Confused, you push it to the side. Sweep it under the rug and allow it to join the already big pile of all the other unrequited feelings you’ve never dared to express. It’s easier to purposefully keep your eyes squeezed tightly shut.
You can’t see when you’re already blind.
“Any-ways,” you sing-song, extending your hand towards him. “It was good seeing you again. We should grab a coffee sometime, if you’re up for it?”
Instead of replying and shaking your hand, Kiba looks down at your polite gesture and nearly starts to frown at the sight of it.
“What?” you ask as the slight wrinkle between his brows continues to deepen. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“No reason.” He hesitates a bit then, swallowing hard. It makes his Adam’s apple bob in his throat. “I’ve just missed you, is all. This town fucking sucks ass when my girl’s not in it, ya know? And this whole handshake thing you’re doing is weird.”
Fuck. His honesty, the way he calls you his girl, the too-warm look in his too-warm eyes, fucking everything in that wretched moment makes you start feeling dizzy and causes sweat to gather in a layer so thick right on the flat of your awkwardly twitchy palms, one of which you’re still extending towards him.
What you wouldn’t give for a pair of pockets to stuff them into right now.
Because to be completely honest, you’re outright baffled by the reaction that your body throws at you with full force, now. He’s called you the same two words a million times before, alone or in front of other people — it never really mattered. To him, you were always his girl. It was that simple.
And while that did manage to stir up some emotions within you that you weren’t ready to acknowledge yet even back then, you always managed to play it off like it was no big deal.
But those feelings have gotten stronger now, despite the distance. They’ve gotten potent. To the point where they’re almost deadly.
And they’re also sneaky, like a shadow grazing your back and breathing right at the spot where your neck connects to your shoulder. They gradually build up with each passing second of silence that hangs between you. They take their time to build up on momentum; like an avalanche or an upcoming tsunami.
And for a moment, just for the shortest of moments, you swear that Kiba can tell.
But luckily for you, he seems to be oblivious about it, or is at least playing it off like he is. And that’s good! The least he can do after cooking up this mess, is save you the embarrassment that you most certainly don’t wish to live through, thank you very much!
So you do the next best thing that is currently at your disposal.
You object to his genuine affection like an idiot.
“Whaaat? You missing me?” Internally cringing at how high your voice is getting in pitch, you’re almost positive that it must hurt his sensitive wolf hearing. However, much to your dismay, you just can’t fucking stop acting weird for some reason. “Pfsh… Didn’t anyone tell you that lying isn’t nice, Inuzuka?”
For fuck’s sake, you’re acting like he’s holding you at gunpoint.
“Uh… Okay? Hah…?” He gives you a look filled to the brim with doubt, his dark brows faintly scrunching together again. “Well, you wanna know what else ain’t nice?”
All you can do is nod. You’re on the verge of killing yourself right here and now.
“Well, how ‘bout,” he pretends to ponder, rubbing his chin. “Oh! How ‘bout forgetting all about your best friend the moment you start attending some fancy, goody two shoes college halfway across the country. Yeah.”
It’s your turn to offer him your best unimpressed stare this time. Your heart feels like it’s stuck inside your throat, pulse rattling behind your teeth.
You can’t really tell if he’s joking or not. His tone may be light, sure, but you aren’t able to read him as well as you used to back in the day, and even then it was pretty bad.
He’s gotten… complicated.
Much like your entire friendship has.
You can still remember the almost kiss that never happened back at his place that caused this entire flurry of very, very confusing emotions to start in the first place, or at least present themselves at the surface. Right on the night before you’d packed your bags and ran off to the other side of the country, nearly fully ghosting him on the spot. Your best friend.
“C’mon, man,” you mumble, “don’t be like that.” The guilt is bad enough as it is.
“Like what?” he asks. As is regret.
“Don’t hold a grudge like you always do. I’ve come home loads of times between semesters; during the holidays especially,” you hesitantly retort, frowning. “And besides, it’s not like you weren’t gone all the time either. I saw your posts about all the backpacking and all those roadtrips and whatnot... With Tamaki.”
The mention of his ex-girlfriend catches him off guard. He blinks, flicking his gaze towards the stacked shelves that suddenly seem to become like the most interesting thing in the world.
Goddammit, you’d almost kissed him while— while—
Still, despite all of that, you wait for him to say something first. Patiently, impatiently; you don’t even know anymore.
“I called,” he lamely offers at long last.
“Well, I texted,” you reply in a heartbeat.
“Barely,” he corrects. “You barely texted.”
Your expression falls somber in an instant. Of course he’d paint you as the bad guy as effortlessly as it is to breathe. It’s what cancers are known for. Especially cancer men.
“Well,” you stumble, shrugging. “What did you want me to do, Kiba? I-I mean, you had a girlfriend.”
“So?”
He doesn’t even ask how you know that they’ve broken up. But to be fair, when you stop posting couple photos on your stories and feed and suddenly unfollow each other, it’s a pretty obvious tell.
“So? So?” You stare at him, taken aback. “I seriously doubt Tamaki would’ve been happy to see some random chick blowing up your phone constantly.”
“But you’re not some random chick. You were my best friend… you still are,” he says and Jesus on a fucking cross, the way he says the words makes him sound so fucking hurt.
“I know,” is all you can offer. The weight that suddenly sits on your shoulders makes you want to slump. That, or either curling yourself into a ball.
The feeling only gets worse when he says, “We were supposed to go on those trips together.”
“I know,” you repeat. “I’m sorry.”
He fixes the brim of his cap again. “Are ya, though? Sorry?”
“Yes! Of course I am!” You scowl so hard that it makes the bridge of your nose scrunch up in annoyance. “If I could do something about it, I would. Trust me.”
He looks at you; really looks at you. Up and down. And then he says, “Then do it.”
“Do what?” you ask dumbly.
“Go on a trip with me,” he explains. “Today.”
“Today?”
“Did I fuckin’ stutter?”
You stare at him. He stares right back, gaze unmoving.
Fucking hell, he’s actually serious about this.
“But I’m… I’m not really a backpacking kind of girl,” you try meekly.
Just the mere idea of going somewhere remote with him completely alone is making you feel warm all over. You need to get yourself out of this mess ASAP!
“No worries,” he replies faster than a heartbeat. “We can always go camping.”
You bite the inside of your cheek. “Camping?”
“Yeah. For one night,” he says. “I know a really good spot that I go to all the time.”
“But I–” You fumble once more, looking down at the pretty nail polish on your toes. “I don’t even have the proper clothes for it. Like those fancy gym clothes.”
“Heh.” You attempt to ignore the way his chuckle makes your heart want to jump. Especially as he leans in slightly to say, “All you need is a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants. Oh, or maybe those grey leggings that you always liked to wear and that make your ass look great… Do you still have those?”
He snickers like a child when you punch him in the shoulder.
“And what about the hiking boots, you perv?” you ask, brushing off his lewd comment with heat creeping up your neck.
“What about ‘em?”
“I don’t have those either.”
“Christ, we’re not going that far, bunny.” He laughs, looking at you in disbelief. “A pair of sneakers will do. You’re talking and planning like I’m gonna take you all the way up to the mountains like I’m some fuckin’ dragon or some shit.”
Your eyes surely must be getting tired from rolling back so much. “Hilarious.”
He waits on your answer with a smile; the one that shows that wretched dimple in his cheek and that makes him look entirely innocent despite the oddly sharp canine teeth.
Goddammit, you want to kill him because of how cute he is. However, you’re still feeling slightly unsure about the entire thing.
Evidently reluctant, you ask, “Just one night?”
“Just one night,” he confirms, nodding vehemently.
“And there isn’t going to be a full moon or anything… of that sort?”
He chuckles at the hidden question. “I wouldn’t really be out here shopping for groceries if there was a chance for that to happen, now would I?”
“Yeah, I suppose that’s true,” you trail off. You glance up at him, not fully convinced yet. “Do you promise that you’ll take care of everything?”
“‘Course,” he says.
“Say it, then.”
“Say what?”
“That you promise.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes, seriously!”
He sighs at how persistful you are. As if he’s any better! “Fine. I promise that I’ll take care of everything.”
Even you.
Seconds pass. One second, two, three. Staring at him with both of your brows tightly knit together, you can literally feel his excitement transferring itself to you through some invisible link between you which you’ve never quite managed to sever. You suppose his emotions are just that contagious.
“Well?” he inquires, all giddy-like. “What d’you say?”
“Well,” you trail off, kissing your teeth. “I suppose… a single night can’t really hurt?”
“Fuck, yes!” he exclaims and before you know it, you’re being pulled into a bear hug you didn’t even realize how much you’ve missed until you’re caught in it all over again.
Your cheek smushes against his chest. Muscle memory kicks in once more; persuading your arms to move on their own accord, letting them wrap around the familiar place a little above his waist that doesn’t feel as familiar anymore.
He smells good, like amber, the very heart of a forest and all things wild. It’s earthy, rich, inhumanly strong. It fills your nose, titillates your senses and makes lush greenery and spices start to take root inside your lungs.
Every breath makes you dizzier and it’s hard to keep your composure as a result; especially when there’s a sequence of powerful thump, thump, thumps pounding right against your ear, now.
His heartbeat is so fast. It’s like he has two.
You’re silent as you listen to the quick rhythm of his heart. And for a change, so is he. Feeling unsure how much time is passing, you continue to cling onto your best friend in the middle of the empty aisle, reawakening all the memories, warming your body with his heat even if it’s hot enough outside to fry an egg on the concrete.
The soles of your colourful flip-flops will surely stick to the sidewalk when you walk back home to gather your things and explain your unexpected trip to your parents.
“Kiba—” The last part of his name melds into a giggle from the way he squeezes you so tight that your spine pleasantly cracks in all the places that have been feeling way too stiff from the all-nighters you had to pull during exam week, and progresses into a quiet squeal for help by the time he swings you from side to side like an excited boy would his favourite toy.
“Ugh, m’sorry!” He laughs as he releases you, letting you plant your feet back onto the white tiles where they belong. “I just had to get that outta my goddamn system. It’s been building up for years.”
“It’s okay,” you say, punching his shoulder again, this time playfully. “I always knew you were secretly a softy.”
The tips of his ears turn pink at that. The blush is not strong enough to be noticed by you, but he feels the warmth, feels the subtle prickling along the back of his neck.
Why is it so intense?
It makes his voice drop lower as he mutters a flustered, “As if.”
“What, I really did!”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever… But all jokes aside, I really am glad that you’re back,” he admits before you can beat him to it. He pulls back just enough to look you directly in the eyes and smiles. “I really did miss you a whole lot, bunny.”
It’s hard to be vulnerable and admit that you’ve missed him too, so you keep quiet as you plaster your best smile onto your lips again and reach up to jokingly flick the tip of his nose.
“I thought I told you to stop calling me that.”
Perhaps it’ll distract him from the fact that unlike him, you’re as cowardly as they get.
———
“Hey, I meant to ask… How come you didn’t bring Akamaru with you today?”
Some time after bumping into you in the grocery store, Kiba stills for a second at the innocent question you present before him whilst walking the narrow forest path that is supposed to be leading you to your destination.
In the late afternoon hours, the forest feels like it’s alive. There are birds chirping amongst the branches of the trees above your heads and warm sunlight filters through the leaves. A nearby stream keeps busy by smoothing down the rocks inside it. Everything thrives during the summer.
Even the air smells better; like it’s been thoroughly ridden of your town’s signature scent. But despite the fact that you’ve reached the point of summer when dog days are approaching fast, every inhale you take now feels fresh and satisfyingly cool instead of sticky whilst it travels down your airway.
It’s nice to be able to breathe again.
And as for Kiba, well, he wishes he could say the same.
Following closely behind you, the young werewolf realizes that he is finding it harder and harder to concentrate the further progress you make on your hike. And while there may be plenty of reasons for his lack of focus at the moment, taking the fact that you’ve still got a lot of catching up to do into account, the main one is also the one that concerns him the most.
You just smell so fucking delicious to him, it’s insane.
He wants to devour you.
And how couldn’t he want that? There are phantom strawberries weaved into your hair and clothes from the matching shampoo and body wash set that you must have showered with before leaving your house. Sunscreen sits on your skin, turning the fruity notes even more summery than they already are.
If he walks close enough, he can even smell the sweat that slowly gathers on the back of your neck as you ascend the gradual slope of the hill that he’s planning to set up camp on.
So yeah, it’s hard to stay away, when all your scent does is lure him in. Hard to keep in-check, when you’re practically calling out to him, inviting him to come closer. He’s missed the way you smell so much.
God, if only he could just shove his nose into the crook of your neck and—
“Kiba?”
“Huh?”
The man in question blinks now, looking up only to find you standing several meters ahead of him; hands glued to your hips and brow quirked. He didn’t even realize that he’d come to a full stop while thinking about certain scenarios he’d rather not say out loud for the sake of your well-being.
“Sorry,” he says before he awkwardly clears his throat and quickens his pace to reach you again. “What did you say? I kinda got sidetracked for a bit there.”
“By what?” You part your lips wider, huffing whilst trying to gather your breath. He looks like he hasn’t even broken a sweat while you’re literally feeling like your lungs are about to collapse any second now. To make matters even worse, he’s also skilfully avoided the pesky tree root that almost made you trip earlier without even as much as glancing at it.
“You know what, never mind that,” you say, shaking your head. “I just asked why you didn’t bring Akamaru with us today?”
“Oh, umm… Well, ya know; he’s gotten pretty old by now so he can’t really make the trek as effortlessly as he used to,” he starts to explain and you don’t miss the hint of melancholy that overcomes his voice ever so slightly now. “Nowadays I just leave him at my mom’s whenever I go hiking.”
“Oh,” you mutter while wrapping your fingers around the straps of your old backpack which you’ve dug up from the back of your sibling’s closet. Your grip tightens a bit as you add, “I’m sorry about that. I know how much you care about that dog.”
“I mean, it’s not like he’s dead or anything, hah,” he says, his chuckle kind of bitter. “He’s just a senior dog now, doing senior things. Nothing wrong with that, don’tcha think?”
“True,” you mumble, feeling guilty that you’d even asked the question in the first place. I mean, of course his puppy would be old by now. He's had him ever since he was seven, for crying out loud!
“So, anyway,” you say as you turn around to continue your way up the hill you’re practically yearning to reach the top of now, “you just go hiking alone, then? Since Akamaru stays at your mom’s?”
“Mostly, yeah,” he replies as he follows suit. You try not to pay attention to how attentive you are to his presence all of a sudden. “Before, it was usually just me and Tam, but now that—”
You pretend not to notice the way he cuts himself off mid-sentence the moment he accidentally mentions his ex-girlfriend’s name. Pretend that hearing it doesn’t make your chest feel a bit too tight all of a sudden, and not from lack of air or your rather poorly prowess in physical fitness.
“Uh,” he fumbles.
“Don’t you get scared, though?” you continue as if nothing has happened, helping him out. “Hiking all alone?”
If he’s grateful for your assistance, he doesn’t show it, because now he sounds genuinely confused as he says, “What is there to be scared of, exactly?”
His question makes you come to an abrupt stop. You turn your head to the side so that you can look at him over your shoulder. “What do you mean, ‘what is there to be scared of’? It’s a forest, Kiba.”
“So?” he replies, sounding even more confused.
“Are you being for real right now?” The blatantly puzzled look that settles onto his face puzzles you just as greatly in return, now.
Especially when he says, “I’m not entirely sure how you want me to answer that.”
“Well, I don’t know,” you say. “What if there’s, like… a bear, or something?”
He snorts at your idea, making you feel like you’re stupid for even suggesting a thing like that in the first place.
“What?” you fuss, glaring at him. “What’s so funny?”
“Nothing, it’s just that there aren’t any bears in these woods, dummy,” he answers, the last word kind despite if it’s usually meant as something derogatory.
You scoff, rolling your eyes for the millionth time today. “And how would you know that, oh, wise, all-knowing one?”
Kiba pauses as he smirks, rather resting his gaze onto a spot somewhere amongst the tree line instead of you. You catch the slight flutter of a muscle in his cheek as he grits his teeth and exhales.
His voice is low, but confident as he finally says, “Because around these parts, sweetheart, I’m the biggest predator. And luckily for us, bears tend to keep to themselves instead of picking fights with something that is much, much bigger than them.”
You’re not entirely sure if you want to know how big he can actually get, nor how far he’s actually able to see with those wolf eyes of his as he keeps on looking off into the greenery. His expression is one of the most complacent ones you’ve seen in a long while.
Still, you manage just enough bravery to swallow the thick saliva that’s now started to gather inside your mouth so that you can ask, “So you’re saying that you can take a bear in a fight? Like an actual living, breathing bear?”
“I mean,” he drawls, shrugging in such a nonchalant way that it only pisses you off further, “it wouldn’t be the first time.”
Your eyes open wide as your heart drops to your fucking ass. “What?! Are you serious?”
“No, I’m joking.”
Dead silence meets him from your side at his bad take on a prank. And Kiba — foolish, brainless Kiba — can’t help but start laughing at the look of pure, unhinged fury that starts to twist your features now. It makes your nostrils outright flare like a bull’s that’s been irked for far too long.
He gets startled when you start stomping towards him, though.
“I’m sorry—” He begins walking backwards to cause more distance between himself and the wrath that is you, laughter still escaping his lips. “I didn’t think that you’d actually—”
You’re too angry at him to notice how good his balance actually is. He doesn’t trip once despite the fact that he’s blindly walking backwards on uneven terrain; much less loses his footing or actually falls over.
His abnormally honed sense of stability only drives you more mad. By the time you finally catch up to him and shove him by pressing both hands against his chest, the startled little yelp he lets out in response is barely satisfying.
“Hey, don’t do that; I’ll fall!”
“Good, because that’s what I was hoping for!”
“Oh, c’mon… Hey!” He comes to a stop, grabbing you by the wrist when you try to strike him for a second time. “I told you I was sorry, didn’t I?”
“Sorry? Sorry? Oh, go fuck yourself, you absolute dick,” you snap at his half-assed apology and are practically gritting your teeth whilst trying not to pay mind to how his touch practically sears your skin. “I hope a bear actually does come into these woods just so it can maul you into a million tiny little pieces!”
“Aha… I’d like to see it try.” His eyes burn like a furnace when he says that. It’s even worse when he yanks on your wrist and pulls you closer, as if to prove a point.
The fire within subdues your own flames in an instant. It makes you lose your edge.
“You— You— Ugh!” The slight upturn of your nose almost comes across as snobbish as you whip your head away from him in one sharp movement and shove him again with your free hand, causing his grip to break free, but not because you want it to. “Go away.”
Watching you with profound amusement, Kiba thinks all your worrying is to die for.
Nothing’s really changed, now has it?
And as a result, the smile in his voice is almost unbearably audible as he hurries after you the moment you start walking again. Your pace has become much faster than it was before, but he has no trouble whatsoever in catching up.
He’s right behind you as he says, “I was just fucking with you a lil’ bit, can you blame me?”
“Oh, yeah,” you retort coldly, still not looking at him. “I most definitely can.”
“Christ, don’t be like that, bunny,” he says, nudging you in the shoulder with the help of his palm.
The touch, mostly platonic and what you’d consider meant to be purely reassuring in nature, nevertheless causes your entire body to end up becoming overly tense instead. This is the second time that goosebumps outright tighten your skin as his fingers slide down and graze your shoulder blade, as well as one of the backpack’s straps before letting go.
It’s hard to walk the path like a normal person, when every time he touches you feels like he’s leaving you burning in his wake.
“Are we cool now?” he asks when you don’t bother replying. You simply can’t.
“No, we’re not ‘cool’, you moron. Fuck you,” you answer when he nudges you for a second time, still fuming. Better yet, you’re the exact opposite from cool.
“Mm,” he hums, seemingly deep in thought. You think that he’s finally going to leave you alone, however, much to your dismay, not even a minute of quiet passes before he’s opening his mouth again, asking, “Wanna tell me why you’re so mad?”
“Gee, I wonder; maybe because you’ve got me losing my shit in the middle of the goddamn woods?” You scowl at him before pointing your gaze back onto the ground so that you can avoid falling onto your ass at the worst moment. “I mean honestly, how stupid can you get to even ask me that?”
“Well—”
“Don’t answer that!”
“Okay. Okay.” Kiba forces himself to stop the slight, upward curl of his lips at your agitated tone. This is not a laughing matter; or at least that is what he keeps telling himself for your sake. “What do you want me to do, then?”
“I want you to go away,” you repeat, exasperated at how he’s obviously fighting every urge to laugh at your bitter attitude.
As is expected, he pays you no mind and instead keeps following after you like he’s a dog tied to a leash that your hand holds. You can hear his footsteps trailing closely behind. “And where am I supposed to go, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“I don’t know,” you mumble, frowning. “Just go!”
“But I don’t wanna.”
“Well, I don’t give a shit.”
“Well, I don’t give a shit that you don’t give a shit.”
“Fine!” You huff, a certain kind of tightness in your expression when you look at him. “Fine. I’ll go, then!”
“And where are you gonna go, huh? There isn’t a single inch of these woods that I don’t know like the back of my hand.” He looks at you, his eyes glimmering with a subtle yellow shade instead of their usual brown. “I’ll just track you down like I always do.”
With the expectant, borderline mischievous look he dares you with now, he reminds you of an overexcited puppy.
Damn him. You’re not sure if you’re irked or envious by how unpredictable and free-spirited he is.
It only makes you angrier.
“I don’t know, Kiba,” you fuss, looking away and pinching the bridge of your nose to save yourself from getting flustered all over again. “Probably somewhere far away from you, because to be completely honest, you’re annoying the utter, living crap outta me right now, okay?”
He stares at you for a couple of seconds, paying mind to the way your voice cracks midway. You’re clearly upset, frustrated, perhaps even overwhelmed by the way he keeps one-upping you with every sentence.
It prompts him to walk closer to where you stand. To lean into your space, carefully reach out and pry your hands away from your face so that he can give you that same look that he’d given you all those years ago when he’d been sick and you were swinging by his house every single day after school.
The one that’s completely, utterly riddled with an emotion you cannot bring yourself to understand even to this day.
“God, what do you want now?” you ask, your gaze still persistently avoidant.
“I want to apologize,” he says, this time completely serious. When you look up, he continues, “I know that I can be… a lot to handle at times, and—”
You purse your lips, mumbling under your breath, “Yeah, well, a lot is an understatement when it comes to you.”
He chuckles, huffing a laugh. “Okay, smartass; shush. I wasn’t done talkin’ yet.”
You glower at the way he shushes you, but otherwise keep silent.
“Now, where was I? Oh, yeah. I also know that it drives you up the wall when I’m a lot, so… yeah. I’ll tone it down, but you also gotta stop worrying so damn much, okay? It ain’t good for ya.”
“What do you mean by that?” you ask.
“What I mean is that you’re just always actin’ so goddamn uptight, bunny; I can sense it! So just… try and relax for once, yeah? Allow yourself to enjoy something that’s a lil’ bit spontaneous. Go fuckin’ crazy, go wild; all that good shit, ya know?” he says, and all of a sudden he’s resting both big palms on your shoulders, shaking you gently as if trying to rid you of your nerves. “Deal?”
“I wasn’t… worrying.” Your heartbeat quickens at the doubtful look he gives you next. “But yeah. Yeah, okay. Deal. Going crazy, going wild; woo…”
You’re soap-sliver thin. Transparent. Ever the complicator. That ‘woo’ was pitiful.
But it’s a start.
“Attagirl, there she is,” he says as he ruffles your hair and fixes his backpack back into place. It encourages you to do the same with your own while he slips by you and walks a couple steps ahead, letting you breathe again. “Now let’s go. We’re almost there, but I wanna get the tent ready before the sun gets the chance to set.”
“Tent?” you mumble, following after him. “As in… singular?”
“Yeah?” This time it’s his turn to look at you over his shoulder. “What, did you think that I was gonna carry two of ‘em on my back? We’re sharing; it’s easier.”
Thump, thump, thump!
“Oh. Um.” You swallow hard as you rub the spot where your heart lies with a sweaty hand. “Okay.”
He’s quiet for a second. And then he asks, “Does that make you uncomfortable…? ‘Cause at the end of the day, I can always sleep outside. I just thought it’d be—”
“No, we’re good,” you say, cutting him off. “I don’t mind.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yeah. I mean, it’s not like we haven’t slept together before,” you say. And nearly choke on your own words. “Wait! Wait, I-I meant like, you know, like back when we were younger.”
Thump, thump, thump, thump!
God, you’re thankful that he’s walking ahead of you so that he can’t see you experiencing your meltdown.
Kiba seems to ignore your little hiccup, because all he says now is, “Positive?”
You take a deep breath. Exhale. Clear your head just enough to ask, “What’s with all the questions all of a sudden…?”
“Nothin’,” he mumbles, his posture straight. “I just wanna make sure you’re cool with it.”
“Yeah, well all it’s doing is making me feel nervous again.”
“Oh, shit; okay, okay!” He turns to look at you again, his eyes wide. “We’re relaxing, we’re chilling… Look at the pretty nature, look at the trees! So zen, right? Real ‘live, laugh, love’ type of shit right here, yes, ma’am!”
Eventually, his rambling makes timid laughter echo throughout the forest.
What an idiot.
———
Ever since you’ve set up camp and settled on the small clearing on top of the hill, you’ve learned three things.
One, the stars are a beautiful sight that stretches far and beyond the inky sky when there’s not as much light pollution present to dim them out.
Two, your best friend is a master when it comes to putting up a tent and starting a campfire.
And three, he can also whip up some really, I mean really mean s’mores.
That last one is why you’re practically humming whilst you sit by the fire that night; dressed in your favourite hoodie and continuously licking droplets of melted chocolate off your fingertips with utmost delight.
With his dark irises adorned with dancing orange flames, Kiba’s eyes can best be described as blazing when he looks up at you.
“Whath?” you mumble, mouth full of marshmallows.
“Easy there, tiger,” he taunts. “Leave some for the rest of us, will ya?”
“Leave me alone,” you answer just as lightheartedly when you swallow. Finally willing yourself to relax, your voice sounds muffled because of how you pop the tip of your thumb out of your overly-sweet mouth, “As if you didn’t eat like six of them already.”
“I ate six ‘cause I’m a big fella with an even bigger appetite,” he counters immediately. “What’s your excuse?”
“Well, if you must know,” you brush him off with a rather sassy flick of the wrist. “I’m ovulating right now and it makes me hungrier than usual.”
Just as you’ve expected, Kiba splutters and nearly drops the bottle he’d just been drinking water out of. A series of coughing and choking noises ensue that make it very hard to hide your satisfaction.
By the time he manages to collect himself, you’re still musing. “You okay there, Inuzuka?”
“Christ,” he says, his voice so hoarse that it forces him to clear his throat for a second time around.
“What?”
“Nothing.” He swallows hard, Adam’s apple bobbing like always. “It’s just that you don’t have to be so upfront about it.”
“Um, okay…? I was just joking, you know... Didn’t think you’d take it as seriously as you did.” Your upper lip quivers as you let out a quiet, almost self-deprecating laugh at the look of guardedness that crosses his face when you speak the words.
It’s almost like he’s conflicted about how to act around you all of a sudden.
And it’s also the reason why you can’t help but ask, “What’s the big deal, though? Does it gross you out or something?”
“No. Gosh, no,” he immediately says and for a second you swear that there’s a blush tinging his already sun-kissed cheeks when he turns to look at the fire instead of you.
He seems to be struggling with finding the right thing to say as he runs his hands up and down his knees and brings them closer to his chest. “You know I’m not like that. It’s just that… well, I don’t wanna think about it, is all. About you, in that kind of way, I mean.”
He can’t risk it because he can still remember the scent of it from way back when he was seventeen. Can still remember how dangerously good it smelled it to him.
God, you were so alluring to him. You still are.
“Oh.” Ouch. You don’t realize that you take his words the wrong way, so they sting you in the place where your heart supposedly lies. Nevertheless, you still manage to smile like the brave girl you’re trying to be as you say, “Well, luckily for you; you won’t have to, because I haven’t ovulated in like three years or so, hah.”
He perks up as his eyes shift back to you. “What’s that supposed t’mean?”
You shake your head, wishing to move on from the conversation but this time he strangely persists, pestering you to give him an answer even if he’d been the one acting weird about it earlier.
So you finally oblige, “Well, uh, I’m on birth control.”
He tilts his head to the side like a dog. “Why?”
Your brow furrows. “What do you mean ‘why’?”
He looks at you like you’re dumb. “Why are you on birth control?”
“Because I don’t want to get pregnant while having sex…?” you trail off. “Isn’t that supposed to be obvious?”
His eyes widen, dark brows shooting up so high that they could touch his hairline. “You’re fucking someone?”
Now is your turn to be taken aback. “I-I mean… I used to, yeah.”
Displeasure turns Kiba’s stomach into a pit of despair. He realizes that he’s not very fond of the idea of someone touching you like that. “When? And who?”
“I’m not telling you that!”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t want to talk to you about my sex life!”
“Why not?” he repeats, still oddly intrigued, almost nosy. “I can tell you all ‘bout mine if you tell me ‘bout yours.”
“Hell no.” You whip your head forward, glaring into the fire whilst grabbing the nearby stick that you used to roast — or should you say burn — your marshmallows with before. Poking the embers with it, the frown that’s on your lips only deepens now as you watch the sparks dance up into the night sky. “Thanks for the offer, but I think I’ll pass on listening to you talk about all your failed sexual conquests.”
He chuckles with what you think is amusement, but the sound is oddly strained. “What makes you think that they’re failed ones?”
You purse your lips. “Well, you’ve broken up with Tamaki, didn’t you?”
“I broke up with Tam for other reasons,” he mutters, his smile wavering for a slight second. “The sex had nothin’ to do with it.”
You don’t want to tread these waters and besides, it’s better to keep things light. So you sit straighter as you stick your tongue out at him, taunting, “Or maybe it’s just your insanely small dick that’s to blame, did you ever think about that?”
“Oh, yeah, bet. It’s definitely small, all right.” Kiba huffs a laugh at your jab. And then he leans slightly closer; not too close, but just enough for the proximity to feel slightly more intimate than platonic.
His pupils are so big that they remind you of two vortexes as he whispers, “Wanna take a look just to make sure?”
Sinful thrill erupts within your gut at the closeness and his rather sly comment. It shakes you to your core even if you don’t want it to. So with your train of thought becoming all fucked up and wacky all of a sudden, you turn away from facing him, feeling the heat from the fire kiss your already much too-warm cheeks.
With your voice merely above a murmur, you sound like you’re almost out of breath as you utter, “You’re so gross.”
“Eh,” he shrugs and crosses his arms behind his head as he pushes further back against the log you’re both leaning against with the provided comfort of your backpacks. “You’re used to it.”
“What I am,” you say, side-eyeing him, “is traumatized.”
“Oh, boohoo.” He pretends to pout, closing his eyes, “Big bad Kiba keeps on bullying me. Poor, poor me.”
You giggle, poking the embers again. “Remember back when Sasuke used to bully you in elementary?”
“Tsch.” You watch as he clicks his tongue, his eyes still closed. “That Uchiha twink definitely did not bully me.”
“He kept on saying how your teeth were too big to properly fit inside your mouth.”
“Mhmmm,” Kiba drawls, crossing one ankle over the other. His eyelids flutter open slightly, the orange glow from the fire further complimenting his tan skin and dark hair. “And then, if memory serves right, I bit him for it.”
“And then you bit him for it, yes,” you echo, stifling another giggle. It makes your shoulders shake as you tug on the sleeves of your oversized hoodie. “Oh my gosh, remember how pissed Mr. Umino got at you for that?”
“I think I got like two weeks of detention for it,” he drawls. “It was worth it though... I never liked Sasuke all that much for some reason.”
“No, I think it was more like three weeks than it was two? Because I remember having to walk back home from school all alone every day and thinking how it was taking ages.”
“Yeah?” He turns slightly so that he can look at you from the corner of his eye. “You actually remember that?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” you ask.
“Uh,” he blinks, his expression turning blank. “‘Cause instead of paying attention to the pain and suffering of your best friend, you were probably way too busy actin’ annoyingly obsessed with Sasuke, just like every other girl was doing in our year?”
“What?” Your eyebrows knit together at this newly-acquired information. “I wasn’t obsessed with him!”
Kiba turns to give you a look that outright spells bullshit.
“Come on,” you glance at him, head hanging low. “Don’t gimme that look.”
“What look?” he answers, still giving you that exact look.
“The one that makes me feel like I’m lying.”
The corners of his lips quirk upward. “But you are lying.”
“Am not.”
“Are too.”
“Ugh.” You scoff, playing with the strings on your hoodie. “Fine, maybe I did have a little crush on him. You can’t really blame me for it, though! Sasuke was, like… devastatingly pretty, okay?”
“So that’s your type, huh?” he asks, his foot dancing along the rhythm of a silent song you probably don’t know. “Pretty boys? Sorry, devastatingly pretty boys?”
“I don’t have a type,” you counter, ignoring his jab.
“Sure you do.”
“I seriously don’t.”
“Everyone has a type, though.”
“Not me.”
Kiba falls silent for a moment as he stares into the fire. You pass the time by watching the flames dance across his cheekbones; along the dangerously sharp line that is his jaw. His eyelashes are thick and long, and the curve of his nose is delicate and slightly upturned at the end.
He looks like he’s still deep in thought by the time he finally says, “Well, maybe you just haven’t found it yet. Your type, I mean.”
“Yeah,” you reply, unable to stop staring at his side profile. “Maybe.”
Or maybe, just maybe, your type is right in front of your nose.
———
What you also learn after stomping out the campfire and clambering inside the tent that night, is that even though you’ve slept in the same bed countless of times before, the entire ordeal is much different now that your best friend has gotten bigger.
Because instead of laying beside you like he used to do back in the day when you were kids, Kiba somehow ends up fully surrounding you this time.
He’s everywhere all at once, his presence and that warm amber scent filling every last inch of the small tent you’re both currently residing in. Being so close to him, practically wrapped in his embrace and with your back firmly pressed against his chest, feels oddly familiar even if it’s currently being executed for the sole purpose of keeping you warm throughout the night.
But it’s not quite the same, now that you’re adults, now is it?
It’s almost… inappropriate. In some way at least.
“Should’ve brought warmer clothes with ya, bunny,” he mumbles at some point, his face so close that you can feel the warmth of his breath brushing the back of your neck. “You’re practically shiverin’.”
His drawl — even more prominent now that you think he’s half-asleep — makes your blood want to boil, and not out of anger. He talks to you like he’s trying to get into your panties, but you know that that’s not the case.
He’s made it pretty fucking clear that he wants nothing to do with you with the whole ‘being too upfront’ situation earlier, after all.
So you take a deep breath to calm yourself — and hopefully whisk the confusing thoughts away that are doing more harm than good — before you murmur, “Yeah, and whose fault is that?”
He chuckles as he gives your stomach a single stroke, the sound lazy and laid-back just like the movement is. “Mm… I believe it’s mine.”
“No shit.” You sigh as you curl yourself tighter and shift even closer to his chest that is providing you with all this heavenly warmth you simply can’t get enough of. “God, I can’t believe that I’ve let you talk me into going camping in just my leggings and an old hoodie… I knew I couldn’t trust you.”
“Hey, now,” he objects, “you can trust me. I just forgot that regular humans can’t handle the cold as well as I can.”
“If I could trust you, I wouldn’t be freezing my ass off in the middle of the woods right now, Kiba!” You whine, annoyed. “Ugh, you’re always so reckless and never stop to think things through. Nothing’s changed.”
“That’s fair, I suppose,” he mutters into the dark, lips a firm line of seriousness. He always finds you so cute whenever you get pissy and say his name like that, but something with your sentence doesn’t sit right with him this time. “But I’m trying to fix it, aren’t I?”
“Well, so far you’re not doing that good of a job,” you pout in answer. “I’m still cold.”
Silence settles between you for a couple of moments. The only sound you can hear, or should you rather say feel, is the strong beating of his heart as it drums against your spine.
It turns a bit erratic by the time he says, “I’ve got an idea.”
You roll over to look at him. “What kind of idea?”
“Hear me out,” he says. “How about you take off your—”
Nearly choking on your own saliva, you try to ignore the way his quickening pulse makes your tummy tighten as you rush to cut him off with a high-pitched, “No!”
“Just hear me out, will ya?” Kiba’s voice fades into nothing as he rests his chin on the top of your head. He’s mumbling as he says, “If you get undressed, it’ll be easier to—”
“Nope! Nope, nope, nope,” you squeak out, quickly shaking your head, making him pull back slightly. “Absolutely not.”
“But you didn’t even let me finish!”
“And I don’t need to, because I know exactly where this is going,” you chide, brow furrowing so prominently that there’s a small v etching itself into your forehead, now. “I am not getting naked with you under the pretense of sharing body heat.”
No way in hell are you about to fall for one of his jokes again. They just leave you hanging in the end, looking desperate.
“Oh, c’mon; why not?” he says, voice so genuinely curious that it almost makes him sound innocent and free from any intent to scheme whatsoever. His fingers dig deeper into your hoodie as he adds, “I mean, it’s not like I haven’t already seen all your bits and pieces before.”
You push away from him so that you can face him instead, supporting yourself with the help of your palms. The inside of the tent is dark, so dark that you can barely see the outline of him, but you just know that he’s smiling; the little shit.
“Those bits and pieces, as you’ve so kindly called them, have changed a lot since we’ve last shared a kiddie pool, Ki,” you mumble, feeling heat growing up your neck and down your middle. It takes all the effort in the world to not let it slip to that tingly place between your legs, especially because there’s a calm rumble of a laugh thundering inside his chest, now.
“It’ll warm you up faster,” he pushes. “That’s all I want, I swear.”
“No thanks,” you refuse, fighting the urge to not shrivel up and simply die from embarrassment. “I’m perfectly content with waiting for your wolfy heat to reach me through the many, many layers of our clothes.”
“You sure?” he asks. “‘Cause it’s gonna be a long night.”
“Yep.”
“Absolutely sure?”
“Yes!” You squeeze his arm, digging your nails into his dark green hoodie as if in warning before you turn your back towards him again and shuffle closer. “Now shut up and go to sleep already.”
“‘Kay,” he relents at long last, sighing. “Suit yourself.”
“I sure plan to, thank you very much!”
“Aha.”
He’s uncharacteristically quiet as he settles back into the folds of your unzipped sleeping bags that you’ve overlapped just so that you can be conjoined together into a mess of limbs. And as a result, the silence to follow is so heavy. It succeeds in making you jittery as hell, as if the chill didn’t help with that already.
“Stop moving around so much, I’m tryin’ to sleep,” he fusses by the time it’s your third time switching positions and pushing further up against him. Unlike before, he sounds like he’s actually agitated now.
“I can’t help it if I’m cold,” you whine, rubbing your feet against his calves.
The feeling of your socks gaining friction against his sweatpants is nice for you from the way it steadily creates warmth, however for Kiba it’s an annoyance that seemingly has no end.
It’s the reason as to why his tone comes across as an irked hiss when he says, “Yeah, well, that’s not my problem, now is it?”
“But it is,” you reply, still running the soles of your feet up and down his legs. “You were the one who kept on saying that a hoodie would be just fine to wear.”
“No, I– Can you stop doing that already?!” He grunts, poking you in the side and causing you to jump. “You know damn well how much the whole feet thing pisses me off.”
“Well, wanna know what pisses me off?”
“What?”
“Being so cold that my teeth are practically chattering.”
“All right, that’s it.”
Your breathing staggers in the back of your throat as you watch him sit up so that he can start taking his hoodie off. He reaches for the back of it, strong back flexing as he pulls it over his head and throws it into one corner that’s to your left.
The white t-shirt he wears underneath gets tugged along, riding up his spine slightly. And goddammit, it’s hard not to ogle at him; hard not to leer at all the tight, defined lines of muscle paired with the contrasting smoothness of tan skin, at how his dark hair tickles the nape of his neck now that it’s all ruffled.
But maybe if you’re sneaky with it, he won’t be able to tell? And besides, it’s pretty dark anyway and—
“Stop staring,” he says like he’s reading your mind. “There’s drool drippin’ at the corner of your mouth already.”
You gulp in response to being caught by his exceptional night vision. The sound is loud and embarrassing as it travels down your throat, at least that’s what you’re thinking.
“I wasn’t— God, you’re so pretentious,” you manage to let out. “I’m just trying to figure out what you’re doing, you prick.”
“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m getting undressed,” he replies casually as he repeats the same set of movements and takes his T-shirt off as well. “And judging by how much you’re complaining about the cold, I suggest you do the same before you freeze to death.”
You bite into the inside of your cheek to stop your upper lip from trembling with stress. “I already told you that I’m not doing that.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t want to.”
Something changes inside him at your denial. It makes him sound more tense as he says, “Can you please stop making a fuss for once and just do it?”
“No.”
“C’mon.”
“No, Kiba.”
“Fine, then freeze,” he quips, suddenly snappier than usual. His blood feels like it’s simmering. Wait, has it always been this hot in here?
Upset, cold and sticky, flashes throughout your chest at his seemingly careless words. “Okay, maybe I will.”
“Fine.”
“Fine!”
You glare at each other, fire and ice present in a single look.
“For fuck’s sake,” he says, trying to tame the persistent flutter of a muscle in his cheek that just won’t go away now. “Why do you gotta be so stubborn all the time? It’s like you’re actively searching for reasons to fight with me every chance you get.”
“That’s not true. You just don’t like it when I don’t comply with what you want,” you spit back, narrowing your eyes. “You’re the stubborn one.”
Another beat of silence passes between you and he uses it to inhale a deep breath and exhale it out just as slowly. It looks like he’s trying to calm himself, fighting every urge not to snap at you again.
“I’m just looking out for you,” he counters finally, his features unbearably tight. “I want what’s best for you, that’s all.”
“Oh, please.” You force out a laugh that doesn’t come from the heart. “As if you know what’s best for me.”
“And you do?” He looks at you, brows raised in challenge. “‘Cause how the hell is getting sick just because you’re too big of a pussy to take your shirt off the thing that’s best for you?”
Your toes start to curl with irritation under the layer of the sleeping bag you’re still tucked into. “I’d rather be a pussy any day, than an obsessively controlling alpha asshole who can’t take a no for an answer.”
“Oh, that’s rich, coming from the control freak herself,” he says, nearly copying the same bitter laugh you’ve let out earlier. “You’re talking as if you don’t start acting batshit crazy whenever a single thing doesn’t go the way you imagined it to go.”
How on earth did this turn into an actual argument so out of the blue? Is he actually that irritated that you refuse to undress? Or is there something else to blame for all of this?
Either way, things are escalating fast.
Your face feels hot from all the mixed emotions you’re experiencing as you draw your blade and stick it into the place where you know it hurts him the most because he’s done the same to you, “I might be a control freak… You’re just a freak.”
“You wanna talk to me about being a freak?” He laughs again, quieter this time but the sound is cold and sharp as ice. “‘Cause how can you call me that, if back when I met you, no one could even stand the sight of you!”
He sucks in one breath, two, three before he continues, unable to stop, “No one could even talk to you. Do you remember that? Not until I stepped in, at least. So call me a freak all you want if it makes you feel any better, princess, but at the end of the day, I was still the one who put you out there while all you did was feel sorry for yourself.”
“You didn’t do shit!” The anger that drops upon your unsuspecting mind is like a thick, red fog. It makes your voice rise higher as you say, “All you’ve been doing for all these years, is breathing down my neck!”
“It’s not like I fucking chose to do that, goddammit!” Kiba snaps, voice suddenly gruff, heart pounding. His pulse feels like it’s racketing behind his teeth as he grits them so hard it makes his jaw hurt. “I mean, do you actually think that I want to spend the rest of my life wondering where the fuck you are and what you’re doing, when you can’t even put in the effort to text me back? Do you think that I want to keep being your friend, when you don’t even—”
“I didn’t ask you to!” You push forward, getting all up into his face as hurt sears the inside of your chest, making it heavy. “I didn’t ask you to be my friend, I didn’t ask you to keep trying to stay in touch, I didn’t ask you to keep monitoring me like some fucking psycho! I didn’t ask you to do any of those things.”
“You not asking for it is not the fucking issue, all right!” His face contorts into a look of prominent displeasure, the bridge of his nose scrunching. It’s clear how much you’re pissing him off; it’s making him say things he otherwise wouldn’t.
“Then tell me what the issue is!” You inhale, your own breathing quick and unfulfilling from how emotional you’re getting. It feels like you can’t suck enough air into your lungs no matter how hard you try. “Enlighten me, Kiba, please! Because quite frankly, I have no freaking clue what you’re going on about right now.”
“The issue,” he finally says, eyes bleary with fury and disdain, “is that I’m stuck with you. And guess what, you get to leave. I can’t. You get to fuck off to the other side of the goddamn country completely unfazed after every summer, and I can’t despite trying, because I’m feeling every mile of distance that separates me from you and it makes me fucking sick!”
The words are like a waterfall to spill from his mouth, he can’t stop them. “You get to meet new people, you get to befriend them and sleep with them and love them, all while every. Single. One of my relationships falls apart because I’m stuck thinking about you, and only you. I mean Jesus fucking Christ, I’m thinking about you whenever I go to sleep, when I go to the gym, when I go to work… I was even thinking about you every time I fucked my girlfriend, who is now my ex, thanks to you!”
He ceases, breathing hard through his nose now, opening his mouth to say something, then thinking better of it.
Meanwhile, every single muscle in your body goes weak, almost numb. His stare is feverish and remains glued to your face; it makes you feel like you’ll drop dead any second now despite the fact that your stomach is doing cartwheels and high-pitched white noise progressively fills your ears.
If there wasn’t a humongous lump jammed inside your throat, you’d perhaps be able to tell how dry your mouth has turned all of a sudden.
But you don’t. So it’s no wonder why your voice cracks as you at long last look at your childhood best friend, the person you’ve always trusted the most, and ask, “So, you’re in love with me? Is that what you’re trying to say?”
“Hah,” he snorts, the sound completely unenthusiastic. “I wish it was that simple.”
“Then what else is there?”
“I’m bonded to ya, sweetheart.” His stare hardens. “You’re my mate. Always have been, always will be. Congrats.”
Thump, thump, thump!
“Mate?” Your heart nearly breaks your ribcage in half from how intensely it starts to pound at the word. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“It means… It means that I’ve longed for you ever since the first day I saw you, okay? God.” He groans, running his hand down his cheek, then the side of his neck. His skin has become so slick with sweat that it causes his fingers to glide. “And it means that I’ll still long for you no matter what you do, or how far away you go, or who you end up with... You’re a part of me. And I can’t do shit about it.”
His words make your head swim. It’s hard to concentrate because of it, the rising nausea only making things worse, but you still manage enough willpower to ask, “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I didn’t—...” He inhales a long breath again, only one this time. And pulls a face you can’t read. “I didn’t want you to feel pressured by it… Like you were obligated to be with me or something, just ‘cause I was having a bad time.”
“So instead you decided to be my friend for all these years? So that I could have my chance at freedom and you’d still have a reason to be near me?” Disappointment flashes throughout your brain like lightning. You feel played. “Does that mean that our entire friendship was, like… just some ploy to help you get closer to me or whatever?”
“Fuck no.” His shoulders slump as he practically succumbs to the weight of his own body. The world feels like it’s spinning all of a sudden. “The bond had nothing to do with that; well, maybe at the start, but definitely not afterwards. I was your friend because you were actually cool to hang out with, despite being kind of a dork. Even if you were my mate, you were still smart, and nice, and… and…”
And it’s only then, when you close the gap between yourself and him to catch him, that you realize how high his body temperature has gotten. How his skin feels like it’s blazing underneath the tips of your fingers when you press your hand to his chest on pure instinct. How the blush that tints his cheeks is stark red; intense enough to even reach the tips of his ears and the base of his neck.
His blood has always run hot, you know that. But never like this.
Never like this.
It’s even worse than back when he was ‘sick’.
“Shit… Are you feeling okay? You’re burning up all of a sudden. Like, even more than usual.” Your voice trembles on the words as you speak, low and worried. It’s like the entire argument is forgotten in a blink of an eye just because you’re sensing that something isn’t right with him.
“No.” Much to your surprise, Kiba gives you a hard smile when you look up into his face. It’s covered with a thick coat of sweat again even if he had wiped it away just minutes before. “I’m not okay.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I think…” He pauses, letting out a pained sound that’s almost like a mix between a grunt and a whimper when you cup his face with your hands. “I think that I’m slipping into rut.”
“Rut?” You blink when he takes your hands into his own and hurriedly pries them away from his face, your eyelashes batting against your cheeks. The sudden rush of adrenaline that courses your veins when he starts to let you go makes you feel like you’re hollow inside.
So you cling onto his hands. If anything, they’re keeping you warm.
He breathes in again, every breath strained. “You need to stop touching me. It’s making it worse.”
Your brain feels like it’s turned to mush all of a sudden. All you can do is do as he says and whisper, “Oh. Y-yes, okay. Okay.”
“Fuck.” He scrubs his hand over his face for what must be the third time now, continuously wiping the liquid salt that just won’t stop oozing out of his pores. “Fuck. This is so fucked.”
Your eyes feel like they’re bulging from how concerned you are. His constant swearing isn’t helping the situation. “What is?”
“This whole night. Everything.” He looks away, clearly ashamed. Parts his lips so that he can breathe through his mouth instead of his nose, but it just makes him taste you on the flat of his tongue instead. Drool seeps as a result. “I wasn’t even supposed to go into rut for the next couple of weeks at least, maybe even a month from now... I think your scent might have triggered it.”
After all, you’re sweet as summer honey. Honey made just for him.
And being this sweet, it’s no wonder that he’d subconsciously lured you out into the forest and away from other people under the pretense of catching up. No wonder that he had pinned you down with a single look in the middle of a grocery store as soon as you showed even the slightest hint of requited feelings. That he’d been getting impatient, had been getting jealous at the mention of other partners, had even nearly tried manipulating you into getting naked with him — something he’d never thought he’d sink so low to, for fuck’s sake.
All while the rut just stacked one symptom on top of the other.
This entire trip, every single one of his actions, every word, every look had been mere preying. Mere circling whilst getting ready to go in for the kill. After all, you’ve been gone for years, leaving him stranded. Catching a mere whiff of your scent — of his mate’s scent — after such a long time had been like an awakening for the beast within; a push for it to take over.
And that beast is ready to come out now. It’ll claw a way out of him if need be. He didn’t even realize it until now.
Utterly blinded by instinct, he’d been played for a fool by his own psyche.
“Kiba?” you whisper his name cautiously, pupils still big as saucers as you repeat, “Hey. Are you okay?”
“Shit. Shit, shit, shit.” He exhales shakily, ignoring your question. “I-I need to get away from you before I—”
“What? You can’t leave me here! What the fuck,” you stammer out, eyes opening even wider in the dark. Ignoring his warnings, you clutch onto him again because he’s simply your only pillar right now. Rut or no rut. Whatever that means.
“Well, I can’t stay here,” he snaps in answer and now you can hear the mumble appearing between each word. His already humanly-questionable incisors are growing elongated now, turning into fangs and changing his pattern of speech. “You have no fucking idea how aggressive I get if I don’t get what I want during a rut; what you saw earlier wasn’t even the half of it. And I can’t... I won’t let you see me like that. I don’t want you to think—”
“I won’t think anything of you, I promise! Just… just please don’t leave me here. Please,” you quickly blabber out even if you’re not sure who the words are meant for; you or him. “Just tell me what you need.”
“No way.” He’s practically panting, every breath still continuing to be laboured as he says, “You’re not gonna like it.”
“Just say it.”
“It’s so fucking embarrassing, though.”
“Goddammit, spit it out already!”
“I—” He falters, huffing, only stressing you out further until he finally says, “I need to cum.”
The white noise that had just eased a bit inside your ears immediately gets replaced by the deafening ringing of your pulse. Did you just hear that right?
“H-Huh?” is all you can let out as a result.
“I need to cum to make the rut ease up,” he explains impatiently, voice breathless, hoarse. He looks at you, the vein in his neck bulging as his jaw clicks into place again. “Fucking hell… M’sorry, I’m so sorry… for everything. You don’t gotta do anything if you don’t wanna, I’d never force you but— fuck, it’s so fucking hot in here. I can’t breathe.”
The moment you see him start losing his composure again is the moment that you spring into action.
“Here, let’s just… take it easy for a bit.” You blink profusely, trying to gain control of the situation as you ease him onto the pile of sleeping bags. “Breathe in nice and slow, yeah?”
“No,” he grunts out, tensing again in an instant. “That makes it worse.”
“Oh, right. Right. Sorry.”
Moments pass, all of them feeling like ages even if it’s only a second or two, perhaps three. You spend them all by watching him like a shark in water, not sounding quite like yourself as you force yourself to step out of your comfort zone for once and utter, “Let me help you.”
“What?”
“Let me help you with the whole… uh.” Your rare, spontaneous decision makes your head want to hurt from all the anxiety it’s causing. “Cumming part, I mean.”
“No.” His cheeks glow red as he swallows hard. “You seriously don’t gotta. Like I said, I’d never—”
“I know,” you cut in, giving him a look of what you hope looks like determination instead of pure anxiety. “I know you wouldn’t. Besides, there’s no need for that because I want to, okay?”
Kiba frowns, looking the most exasperated you’ve ever seen him be. It makes his voice unusually quiet and small as he whispers, “Why would you?”
“Want that?”
“Yes.”
“I want to because you’re my friend,” you say and it’s the truth. “And I don’t care what it is that we gotta do to make you feel all right again, I’ll always help you out because of that, okay?”
“But I’m a shitty friend. I don’t deserve you helping me out; I don’t deserve you,” he counters. “I mean, for fuck’s sake… Look at the shitshow that I dragged you into just now.”
“You made it sound like you didn’t know this would happen, though,” you argue back, growing more backbone with your tone. “Did I understand that right?”
His teeth sink into the inside of his cheek, instantly drawing blood from how sharper they are than they used to be. He hisses, licking the now aching spot, tasting iron. “Yes.”
“Okay, then let me help you,” you try again, unrecognized greed and the bond you can’t feel not as nearly as deep as him pushing you forward hand in hand. “Yeah?”
Kiba looks at you for a long while. His eyes have gotten so dark that they look like they could absorb you whole when he finally opens his mouth to say, “Yeah.” His eyelids flutter shut for a brief second as he shakes his head, as if chasing the doubt away. “Yeah, all right.”
With his approval acquired, the couple of seconds to follow are like a blur. You don’t know where the sudden burst of confidence comes from as you coax him to lay on his back, but you’re happy it’s there because it keeps your hands somewhat from shaking.
“Come to think of it, maybe we shouldn’t—” He stiffens, the words catching in his throat from the way his cock automatically starts to twitch in his sweats because of the way your unsure touch travels down his stomach, now.
His dark happy trail tickles the tips of your fingers, caramel skin still so hot that you’re surprised he’s still conscious and capable of forming thoughts.
“It’s okay, shh,” you soothe him even if your heart feels like it’s climbed up your throat again when he immediately pushes himself up with the help of his elbows so that he can look at you. You’re both trying so hard to not stare at the obvious tent in his pants. “I’ll, um… I-I’ll take care of it, okay?”
Your best friend’s chest heaves with every fast breath. All he can do is nod, the discomfort obvious as he says, “Okay.”
God, he sounds so uncomfortable but desperate for it at the same time. You force yourself not to look at him as you kneel beside him, feeling sweat gathering on the nape of your neck. Just a little while ago you were cold. Now, you’re burning up from how quickly he’s warming up the small space.
“Will, like, a handjob be enough…?” This entire thing is insane. Surreal.
You’ve gone from zero to a hundred just because he’ll go off the rails otherwise.
“I, uh, I think so?” His fingers curl, fisting the smooth material of the sleeping bag. He clutches it so tightly that it makes his knuckles turn white as he adds, “I mean, that’s what I do when I’m alone.”
“You jerk off during a rut?” The image of him stroking himself makes your stomach tighten and your throat turn scratchy.
“So many times. Ugh.” Heat spreads throughout your body at the groan he lets out, but it also warms his face into an even deeper shade of red. Talking about these things might be embarrassing right now, but it eases the tension. So he continues, “Sometimes I even have to take a couple days off work just so I can keep fuckin’ my fist, hah.”
The look on your face makes him inhale a sharp breath through gritted teeth.
“Too much?” he asks, that same look of dread overtaking his features once more.
“No, no,” you reply hurriedly, running two now-trembling fingers along the waistband of his sweatpants. The way his toned stomach trembles in response turns your mouth painfully dry all over again. “I just… I thought you’d rather venture out to find somebody to sleep with during a time like that. So that you can, you know… make it pass quicker or something.”
“Oh. Well, I did try to do that. But it didn’t go so well,” he answers, staring at every movement your hand makes with heavy eyelids. “Here, lemme… help you out ‘cause we gotta speed things up a bit. I’m so sorry… God.”
Your breath hitches when his too-warm hand cups your smaller one and wraps it around the prominent bulge in his sweatpants without any sort of hesitance, but with palpable urgency instead.
He curls your fingers around the ridge of his clothed cock until you can feel out the shape of it. And then he stills completely, giving you time to pull back if you change your mind about the entire thing despite that every cell of him wants to roar.
But you never do.
No, instead all you do is succumb to the moment and start to stroke him the way he’s shown you — slowly at first.
“Fuck, okay… That’s it,” he whispers, broad shoulders tensing at the touch. His fingers twitch, tightening their grip on the sleeping bag.
The praise is like a flame and it licks your skin. Feeling how big he is getting under the cotton now, how fucking huge he’s growing, makes your saliva thick and your voice wobbly as you whisper, “Like that?”
“Mhmm, yeah.” He sighs before yet another curse spills past his parted lips. There’s drool gathering on the surface of his sharp fangs by the time he urges you on. When he swallows it, it’s audible.
Somehow, it succeeds in making you feel better, more relaxed. The fact that he’s just as nervous as you are helps.
So you let your lips quirk upwards briefly as you say, “Now you’re the one that’s got drool dripping from the corner of your mouth, huh?”
“Yeah, sorry.” He huffs a laugh. “This whole thing is pretty new to me. Makes my body act all sorts of weird.”
You blink. “A handjob is new to you?”
He shakes his head, looking down at his lap with a blush so prominent that it makes his entire face tingle. “No, I meant like a mate’s touch.”
“Oh.” You offer him a nervous smile, readjusting yourself on your legs. “Well, um… enjoy it while it lasts, hah?”
Kiba doesn’t say anything in answer. Neither do you. Maybe he’s afraid of what this will mean for your friendship afterwards. Maybe you both are. But with each passing minute, you slowly ease yourself into your sinful ministrations. Your strokes turn less rigid, the hesitance replaced with cautious intent, but intent nevertheless.
The waistband of his sweatpants gradually slips lower and lower down his hips as you keep going. A glob of your saliva gets involved; transferring from your pursed lips, to your palm, to his cock that has finally been freed from the too-tight confines of his clothes and is now being spoiled by skin on skin contact.
Even if Kiba remains in his — mostly — human form, you soon learn that werewolf cock is vastly different from a human one. In the dark, you can’t see it quite well, but that doesn’t mean that you can’t feel the difference.
It’s bigger, harder, hotter to the touch than any you’ve previously had. It throbs and practically leaks pre-cum, nearly making you think that you didn’t even have to spit into your palm in the first place. In fact, it’s so lubed up that there are wet, almost squishy noises by the time his hips start to buck upwards and he starts fucking your fist.
You’re hovering over him, your face merely inches away from his own from how close you’ve gotten during the entire ordeal. If you thought he was panting before, now he’s nearly hyperventilating as he rasps, “F-fuck, mm… faster. Go faster, bunny. It feels s’good.”
His voice has turned into a growl of some kind; it’s the lewdest you’ve ever heard him speak. Because even with all the dirty jokes, and the questionable looks, and the sometimes too-long hugs which you’ve exchanged throughout the years, Kiba has always, always been respectful of your boundaries and limits.
But he really pushes that limit, really steps on that already thin line when he suddenly rests his forehead against your own and asks, “Are you gonna let me kiss you?”
Your thoughts turn fuzzy in an instant at the request, as well as at the nearly non-existent proximity. This isn’t about helping him out anymore, this is about feelings. Feelings that you’re very much still trying to understand.
And feelings are dangerous, when you know that being friends is best for you. After all, you’re so different from each other — polar opposites. But you feel the invisible link that connects you to him now a bit better than you did before, feel it tugging you towards him; closer and closer, even if you’re merely human. Every touch makes it stronger and alters your brain chemistry, alters the way you see him.
It feels like you’re gradually starting to share every breath, like your heartbeats are aligning and will keep on aligning all until they’ll start to beat as one. Like you’re fusing together; he’s becoming you at the same time you’re becoming him.
You have no clue how he’s managed to endure all of this for such a long time, surely feeling it at least ten times stronger than you do. And in a way, it’s scary. All these emotions are making you feel overwhelmed and the worst part is that they’re not nearly as deep yet as his are.
You stare at him. He stares right back with dark eyes full of what you think is good intention.
Your lips quiver as you whisper, “Do you think kissing is a good idea?”
“It’s just a couple of kisses, bunny,” he answers way too fast, quietly whimpering when your thumb swipes over his sensitive cockhead, turning tacky because of the bead of pre-cum there. He’s so needy that he feels like it’s going to kill him. The rut has outright cooked his brain by now, and that makes him pushy — he’s warned you about it. “It’s not like it’s gonna change anything between us.”
You look at him again, still sceptic. Your grip around his cock tightens as you think. “I dunno...”
“C’mon. Please, please, please,” he urges, feeling even more hot and bothered and desperate at how godly it feels when you stroke his cock. Up and down, up and down, up and down — he’s going to go batshit crazy. “Didn’t you tell me that you were gonna be a bit more spontaneous tonight? Hmm?”
You stare at him from underneath your lashes, feeling just a little less doubtful from how he pleads for it. Despite being perplexed about the entire situation, his uncharacteristic rambling and babbling and the constant need to challenge you proves to be like a push forward that you need in order to press your lips against his own.
So you gather your courage and lean in. And of course, he meets you halfway in an instant — even faster than that.
The kiss itself is messy when you connect. It’s more so a clash of teeth and swapping of runny saliva, than it is a loving peck. He craves for you so bad that before you can even take a breath in, he’s nudging your bottom lip with his tongue, trying to make you part your lips a fraction wider; to part just enough for him to slip his tongue inside.
You let out a little ‘mmph!’ sound at how intense he is with it and how he cups one side of your face with his hand, literally forcing you to open up for him by pressing his thumb underneath your jaw.
“Hey—”
And it’s the opening he’s been looking for. He pushes his tongue inside, gliding it over your front teeth, tasting the roof of your mouth, exploring it like he’ll never get another chance to do so again — perhaps he won’t, who knows?
So he hits you like a tidal wave and kisses you like he’s planning to eat you — it’s riveting as much as it is intimidating. Spit gets swapped with each sloppy kiss that gets shared between you now, some of it bridging the small gap between your mouths whenever you push him back just enough to come back for air. His large canine teeth bump against your own normal-sized ones. The occasional click! is enough to make your blood run hot.
And surprisingly, in the midst of all this chaos, you realize that kissing him feels right. It’s by no means romantic or a profession of love, but it is natural and synchronized in its own peculiar way. Somehow, it even makes sense. Like parts are connecting, like the image is getting clearer, like puzzle pieces are falling into place.
All those feelings that you’ve shoved down and blinded yourself from for literal years are rushing to the surface now. You feel like you’re going to burst.
In a way, Kiba feels the same.
“I, ah… I think m’gonna cum soon... Kissing you feels so hot.” He groans when he feels you falter, body tensing at how low his voice has gotten. His cock is nearly pulsating in your palm by now and he has to remind you to continue by helping you out with his own hand. “Fuck, keep goin’, keep goin’. Don’t stop now; I didn’t tell ya to stop, did I?”
Flustered and incredibly overwhelmed by everything that is happening, you do as he says because following orders — even frantic, growly ones — is familiar and comforting as a result.
You let him sloppily fuck your fist as you tighten the hold of your fingers and loosen your wrist so that he can get what he needs to bring himself to his finish. All while he’s practically shoving his tongue down your throat, kissing you with such a burning passion that it feels like you’ll be engulfed in flames and turned into ashes any second now.
Heat steadily builds up within Kiba’s stomach. Sweat pours out of every pore all over again, making his hair stick to his forehead. His toes curl, his balls tighten. His throat gets all scratchy and dry. His brow furrows so deeply that it gives him a headache as he squeezes his eyes shut and just feels.
“Yeah… Just a lil’— fuck, yes, yes…!”
You go faster. And when he finally does tip over the edge and cums, it’s insane.
His movements spasm, broad shoulders tense up to the point of pain. And then he’s literally growling into your mouth; making your lips and the inside of your throat vibrate as he becomes undone.
Your heart stutters at the sound. And when you feel his warm, sticky seed steadily fill your hand, it begins to dance inside your chest.
After all, there’s a literal fuckload of it, perhaps even more. His release dribbles past your knuckles and soils his sweatpants. It gushes out of him, ropes of it, all tacky and cloudy white and potent. You’ve never seen a man produce so much cum, especially not because of you.
The sight, no, the feel of it makes you rub your thighs together as you squeeze every last droplet out of him. Before you know it, there’s a tingly sensation growing in intensity between your legs. A certain kind of heat pooling at the apex of your thighs, a certain kind of stickiness that causes your underwear to cling to your most private part.
Unsure of the reason as to why his pleasure affects you so strongly, the presence of your sudden arousal takes you by surprise and thus only makes you even more nervous as your core temperature scales higher, higher, higher.
You flinch when he kisses the corner of your swollen, kiss-bruised lips. Your cheek. Your neck. And it’s in that spot, where the curve of your shoulder starts, that he finally rests his sweat-riddled forehead and croaks out a very exhausted and very grateful, “Thank you.”
Kiba sags before you can reply, resting a great part of his weight against you and nearly making you stumble backwards because of it. Despite all of the confusion that riddles your mind at that moment, you can’t help but simply hold your best friend upright, repeatedly weaving your clean fingers through his now-damp hair in meek attempt of soothing him.
“It’s okay,” you whisper, trying to ignore the way your stomach feels like it’s doing flips. Who knew you had such an effect on him? Or he on you? “You’re okay. I-I mean, you’re messy, but you’re okay.”
Long moments pass. It’s hard to tell in the dark how much time has passed exactly when your phone is nowhere to be seen, but judging by how your fingers are still tacky with his now mostly dried up release, it must have been a couple of minutes at least.
“God, I didn’t think there'd be so much cum, heh... My bad,” he grunts at some point, pulling you out of your thoughts with the way he rubs the sweat on his forehead into your hoodie. Before you can scold him for it, he’s already back to burying his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply and trying to tame his breaths.
His exhales are warm and ticklish. They make you snicker as you try to push away from him, hiding the sensitive spot with the help of your chin. “What’re you doing?”
“Sniffin’ you,” he answers with a matter-of-fact tone, as if it’s the most normal thing for a person to do.
“Well, stop it! I already told you that it’s weird back at the store.”
“Ahh, but you smell so good.”
Another smile kicks the corners of your lips upward. You’ve always liked the little compliments he gives you. This time it’s no different. “Do I, now?”
“Mhmm,” he nearly purrs, nuzzling his nose even further into your neck until he’s got it practically smushed against your pulse point, causing it to wrinkle slightly at the bridge. “It’s sweeter than usual though, your scent. How are you feelin’?”
Ba-dum.
“Oh, you know,” you mumble, trying to ignore the way your heart skips a beat. Can he tell what you’re experiencing? “A bit overwhelmed by everything that’s happened just now, but I’m fine otherwise... I think.”
A little moment of silence ensues. You’re just about to tease him and ask if he’s done interrogating you when he rasps, “You’re sure? ‘Cause I can definitely smell something other than ‘fine’ and ‘overwhelmed’.”
He sounds different again. More gruff. More tense. More demanding of an answer.
It makes you feel cornered all of a sudden.
Before you can move, he pulls back just enough to press the side of his face against your own as he waits for your answer; perhaps giving you the comfort of avoiding eye contact, perhaps just to feel more physical touch — you don’t know.
So, you’re cheek to cheek, now. Chest to chest. Muscle to muscle. The distance between you is nearly non-existent as you each stare at opposite corners of the tent.
His stubble scrapes your face. Wasn’t he clean-shaven just this morning?
Your breath warms his shoulder as he utters, “Well?”
“Yeah,” you answer as the slight prickle in your cheek yanks you back from the haze that is your thought process. Your voice is once again as wobbly as your legs are getting. It’s hard to concentrate when he’s so close. “I’m sure.”
“‘Kay,” he trails off, still not convinced. “How ‘bout…”
Slowly, ever so slowly, Kiba leans down to press his lips to your neck again and leaves another tender kiss there, sending shivers down your spine. “Now?”
Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum!
You’re quiet, but your fingers tangle into his dark hair as you latch onto him for support in a mere instant, even you’re surprised by it. The way you can feel his sharp canines grazing your throat is exhilarating. Brain working purely on autopilot, you tug at the roots at the back of his head the same moment as your eyelids flutter shut. You simply can’t help yourself.
Perhaps this bond that he’s been telling you about isn’t something only he can experience, after all.
“And now…?” he utters so softly that you can barely hear him over the sound of your quickening pulse. His hand glides from between your shoulder blades, down to the small of your back and goddammit, his palm is so broad; it’s almost comical how big of a portion of you it manages to cover. “How do you feel now?”
“Good. I feel… good,” is all you can answer with this time. Your voice sounds so small as his touch travels over the curve of your ass and rounds the corner by landing on the front of your thigh instead.
You don’t fail to notice the way his calloused fingertips start to glide upwards now that they’re on your leg. The claws, that must have replaced his nails at some point when you weren’t paying that much attention, drag against the stretchy material of your leggings; playful, taunting.
It’s all so slow. Deliberate.
The sudden burst of adrenaline that rushes through your veins and nestles deep inside your belly makes you fidgety, but he keeps you nice and steady by holding the side of your head with his other hand.
Those claws are at your inner thigh now, only inching higher.
Higher, higher, higher.
And his lips are right next to your ear as he whispers a what you could only call an exceptionally needy, “Yeah?”
“Yea-ah!” A little gasp that’s more of a moan than anything else slips out from the way he unexpectedly cups your clothed pussy into the palm of his hand.
“Scent doesn’t lie, bunny,” he says, chuckling darkly. “You should keep that in mind when you’re around someone like me, y’know.”
Shit. You’re in for it now, aren’t you? His touch is scorching hot again even through the two layers of clothes that separates you from him.
It only spurs you into action, almost making you start to grind against him as you arch your back and press yourself closer.
Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum!
Your heart feels like it’s on the verge of giving out.
“We should stop, K-Ki—” You don’t succeed in saying his name fully when he applies more pressure to make you reconsider.
The heel of his palm presses right against your clit this time. Breathless and unsure if it’s done on purpose or merely by some lucky accident, you jolt, trying to squeeze your thighs together.
He catches you when you sag against him, much like you’ve previously done when he had been the one struggling to stay upright. And surprise, surprise — he’s hard all over again. Ready to go for round two, his cock starts poking your thigh whenever you move, leaving little splotches of sticky pre-cum there.
It causes a second heatwave to hit you as filthy thoughts begin flooding your mind. Pussy dripping at the mere idea of him attempting to push that fat, monstrous cock inside you, you let out a little sound of panic when he presses his finger right on the spot where your tight little hole is hiding under the leggings.
“Oh, you liked that, huh?” You can’t see it, but he smirks into the dark; fangs glinting with the wolfish grin that’s gotten so conceited that it hurts. “Look at that… Lil’ bunny is getting all worked up from a bit of heavy petting.”
“Am not!” you stammer with feverish need, licking your lips as your nails dig into his scalp and you grab yet another fistful of his chestnut-coloured hair. “Stop teasing me… I-I’m just— Ugh…”
“I’ll stop if you let me take your clothes off already so that I can lick you and fuck you like you obviously wanna be fucked,” he says, rubbing tight little circles right into that little button that makes you feel like there is electricity running through your veins, not blood. “How does that sound? Or are you just gonna keep grindin’ that little pussy of yours into my hand for the rest of the night?”
Before you can answer, he slides up and down your slit, making your cunt eat up your underwear and leggings, shaping it out. Your knees buckle as you rest all of your weight against him, trusting him that he’ll hold you upright.
But the problem is that he doesn’t. Instead, Kiba uses the hand that he’s holding the side of your head with to help lay you down.
Until you’re right underneath him.
And just like that, he’s on top of you, breathing in your scent with almost a sense of urgency whilst his hand still keeps on rubbing that overwhelmingly sensitive spot between your legs. Keeps on provoking it and keeps on making you so horny that you’re barely any better than a cat in heat.
With every stroke, he’s making you hot and bothered all over again. Making you buck your hips to the rhythm of his fingers. Making you sweat and whine and borderline sniffle as the upcoming tears of pent-up sexual frustration sting your waterline.
You’re about to go batshit crazy if he doesn’t do something other than pet you.
So it’s no wonder that you whimper and allow him to undress you one piece of clothing at a time, until you’ve got nothing else on but your colourful socks and your plain cotton panties are dangling from one ankle. That you let him kiss you down your neck and chest, until he’s nosing his way between your legs and licking you with that inhumanly coarse tongue to his heart’s content.
That you let him feast upon you like a man starved even if he is more monster than man; until your legs are trembling around his head and you’re seeing stars behind closed eyelids. That you let him devour your sweetness and inhale such deep, long breaths of its scent, despite that you’re feeling slightly embarrassed about it after telling him that you’re all ‘sweaty and gross’ down there after the hike, and he’s assured you at least a million times that he likes it even better that way.
And it’s no wonder that you let him spit onto your pussy as he kisses up your thigh and hovers above you, then, before he bends your legs so far back that your knees are nearly touching your ears. That you let him fold you into a mating press and align his cock with your sticky cunt at long last, his fat cockhead prodding at your tight hole that just won’t stop fluttering at even the slightest intrusion.
“Imma pound you s’good. Gonna make you cream on my cock, gonna do all of that nasty shit that I wanted to do to ya for s’long,” he babbles, his stare so ardent that it pierces right through your heart even if he’s not focused at all. The second wave of his rut has already contaminated all his thoughts and consumed him entirely. All he can think about is slamming you to your breaking point.
“Kiba, wa—…. wait,” you mewl, eyes wide open as you stare up at him. With his back hunched and his biceps flexing, every muscle and cord strained to withhold his weight, he’s gotten so big that he can barely fit inside the tent anymore.
How in the hell is he gonna fit inside you?
“Please, I need it. Need it so, so, so bad, fuck,” he drawls almost like he isn’t completely present, his expression all dazed and stupid from how he keeps on staring between your legs. He nudges you again as he says the words, his cockhead catching against your sticky entrance once more, making you squirm. “Your cunt smells so fuckin’ sweet; it’s driving me nuts... I gotta push inside you, bunny, okay? Imma push in.”
You tremble in response, hips wiggling, legs opening a fraction wider to give him even more space because of how persistent he’s getting. When you look up at him through hooded eyelids, all you can see is how his slits for pupils dilate at the sight of the silvery string of arousal that clings to his cock now, connecting him to your cunt.
Your pussy is so wet — it’s practically drooling.
Consequently, it makes him drool, too. Saliva nearly drips down Kiba’s canines all over again.
“Just the tip, okay?” you whisper, trying to calm your heavy-pounding heart.
“Jus’ the tip, yeah,” he murmurs back with that fang-induced mumble, still so pussy drunk that he’s nearly brain-dead. His irises have turned yellow; they glow in the dark as he looks at you and says, “Jus’ the tip and nothin’ else.”
You stare at him with big, watery eyes. “You promise?”
Kiba huffs a laugh despite the fact that he looks like he’s barely keeping himself together. “‘Course I do, sweetheart.”
Hearing him promise, you nod, and thus give him the approval that he’s been practically dying to get. “All right… But go slowly, okay? ‘Cause I’m scared.”
“Slow, gotcha. Gonna go so slow that it won’t hurt one bit.”
With a heartbeat that’s damn well working overtime by now, Kiba softly grunts when he finally presses into you, causing you to instantly flinch and wiggle your hips for a second time to try and accommodate him better.
“Keep still, will ya?” he chides, his patience leaving him for a quick second. “You’re twitchin’ all over the place like you’re an actual rabbit.”
“I’m trying! And shut it.” He keeps on pushing at your fussing, turning your voice higher in pitch as you say, “Shit, shit, shit… I said slowly!”
He grits his teeth, eyebrows drawing together in concentration that he doesn’t have. “This is slow.”
“Well, I-I think that you’re going way too fast.”
“Stop naggin’ me already and relax.”
“Excuse me?!”
Your mouth opens, but before you can even begin unleashing the storm that is your newly-formed fury, he leans down to press his lips against your own like the little shit he is.
Moments pass, he keeps kissing you as a means to distract you from the fact that he’s slowly filling you with his cock. And eventually, with some sweet-talking and plenty of combined effort, your pussy gives in when he adds just a little bit of force to the push, letting him break past that tight ring of muscle that your nerves must be causing.
You’re so tight that it makes the hair on the nape of his neck stand to attention when he finally slips inside, but you’re also so sloppy and dripping wet at the same time that he isn’t worried about it too much.
After all, from the way you push your head back now, pointing your chin upwards and exposing more of your neck that he feels the need to wrap his hand around and stroke it with the help of his thumb, you seem to be enjoying yourself just fine.
Nevertheless, concern — that he feels for you at all times — crosses his tight features. He’s barely holding it together, and here he is; looking out for you as he asks, “You doin’ okay?”
“Mhmm, yeah,” you utter, tensing when his touch moves from your neck down to your tits.
He quirks a brow as he squeezes the fat of your breast and runs his thumb across your nipple this time, making you shudder. “But?”
You give him a pointed look. How can he always tell that there’s something hiding behind the reassurance? “But, you’re just so… big. Concerningly so. I’m worried about how I’m gonna take it all.”
He muses as he mocks the sound of your voice and says, “What happened to ‘just the tip, okay’?”
You huff, pouting. “Don’t make me keep it that way, you prick.”
“Okay, okay, m’sorry,” he says hurriedly, pressing what must be the hundredth kiss onto your lips. “I’ll be good, just don’t make me pull out, please.”
“What about you? Are you doing okay?” you ask, caressing his cheek with your palm. The way he instantly leans further into your touch makes your heart not only dance, but also sing. “I know this must be especially hard for you.”
“I’m fine,” he mumbles lamely, convincing neither of you. And then he sighs at the way you roll your eyes at him in answer. “I just… I want—”
“More?” you suggest.
A prominent blush sears his cheeks. Since when did he blush so much? He’s also sweating like crazy all over again as he says, “Yeah.”
“All right.” Carefully, you nod your head yes once more as you remind him, “I’ll give you more. But slowly, okay?”
“Okay,” he whispers, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip. How he doesn’t puncture the rosy skin with the action, you don’t understand. “I’ll go nice n’ easy on ya. Cross my heart.”
Well, he’ll try at least.
And Kiba does try to go nice and easy, he really does. But it’s hard for him to keep his cool when the beast keeps on howling in his veins and the bond that chains him to you screams at him to brand every last inch of your skin and soul alike.
He’s nearly trembling all over by the time he sinks balls deep into you and his dark pubic hair kisses your clit.
But at long last, you’ve become one.
“Fuck.”
“That feels so—”
“Good. That feels so fuckin’ good, goddamn.”
“I-I’m so… full.”
“You’re welcome.”
“God, do you ever shut up?”
“What d’you think?”
“I think—”
“Woah, look, I’m even makin’ your belly bulge a bit.”
“Ew, ew, ew! That’s so gross.”
“What? No, it ain’t. I actually think it’s kind of cool-lookin’.”
“Stop poking it!”
“Nu-uh.”
Your ankles cross at the middle of his back when he presses his hand to your tummy, colourful socks scraping tan skin. The way you clench around him when he digs his fingers into the bulge makes Kiba wish he had the ability to purr.
“Move,” you squeak out, breath hitching at how the tip of his cock has managed to snuggle right next to your goddamn cervix. “Need you to… move. It’s too much! Kiba, please.”
He tries not to show how happy he is to do as you tell him, but fails with the way his entire face literally lights up as he says, “Like this?”
“Yeah,” you answer quickly, savoring every last bit of friction he gives you now. The rhythm he’s chosen is surprisingly laggard, even if he looks like he’s just about to start bursting at the seams. “Y-yeah, like that.”
Kiba likes the way you sound when you’ve got something fucking into you at a steady pace, but it’s even better that that something is him. Now that he thinks about it, the tone is pretty similar to the one you used to have after every gym class back in high school.
God, did he like seeing those tight shorts on you every Wednesday. Good memories.
A proper moan — the first amongst many — suddenly leaves your mouth, coaxing him away from his trip down memory lane and urging him to make you keep talking, talking, talking as he asks, “You need me just as much as I need you, don’tcha?”
“Pfsh. I never said… that,” you drawl with a click of a tongue as your breathing picks up. Every time he draws his hips back and pushes them back into you feels like he’s reshaping your entire goddamn cunt. Not an unpleasant sensation necessarily, but it definitely takes some time getting used to.
“‘Kay, but listen to all this noise you’re making now that I’ve stuffed your lil’ bunny cunt full,” he says, his eyes glowing with mischief and that sublime yellow colour. “Bet no other man could make you sound like that, huh?”
They’re lazy but deep, the thrusts. Filled with intent. With arrogance and urgency that hides just beneath the surface, waiting to pounce. They reach parts of you that you’ve never even thought could be touched. They make slick dribble down his balls, until it’s all dripping right onto the sleeping bags you’re fucking on top of.
It’s all so audible and loud. Messy. The occasional sound of skin slapping against skin. The wet squelching noises between you. The constant whimpering and his growling grunts, steadily growing in volume.
And you’re going slow.
“Yeah, well that’s ‘cause you’re no man, you dummy,” you bite back when you’re more familiar and comfortable with each other and the connection, trying to be witty even if it’s hard to keep your mind from breaking into shambles.
“Is that so?” He’s breathing hard, picking up his pace, going harder. “Then what am I?”
A dazed smile curls your lips. “You’re a dirty, dirty dog.”
Kiba could agree with that statement to some degree, perhaps. Even if he dislikes the particular term you’ve used.
After all, you have no idea how he’s gotten himself off with a pair of panties that he’d swiped from your drawer and wrapped around his fist back in senior year. Or how he’d turned embarrassingly hard after almost every hug and had to play it cool even if he was sweating bullets from trying to hide the raging boner in his pants. Or how he’s fantasized and fantasized and fantasized; only watching porn with actresses that shared similarities with you because nothing else seemed to work.
You don’t have a clue about any of that.
And he hopes it stays that way.
“Hah.” An almost mean snicker leaves his lips as he unexpectedly slams into you, making you squeal out a particularly nasty curse and causing your pussy to outright gush at the intrusion. “Careful, sweetheart. If you keep on saying things like that, I’ll be more than happy to treat ya like the dirty dog you say I am.”
“Will you, though?” you challenge playfully, stroking down his back with the heel of your foot.
He sneers as he answers, “I will if you keep on testin’ me.”
“But I thought you said that you’re bonded to me?”
“Yeah,” he says. “So?”
“So, doesn’t that mean that you can’t hurt me?”
He blinks, surprised. “Who said anything ‘bout hurting you…? I’d just mount you.”
Your expression copies his own. “Mount… me?”
“Yeah,” he mutters, temperature suddenly flaring up at the thought. “You know… the same way animals fuck.”
Heat creeps up your neck at the crude way he explains it. “Oh.”
Kiba’s lips quirk upwards when he catches a whiff of the subtle change in your scent. You’re flustered at the idea, smelling even sweeter now that there are no clothes to buffer the prominent notes of arousal. “I take it that you wanna try it?”
Your eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets. A wave of sweat washes over you, toes curling. “What— No!”
“Oh, c’mon,” he pushes gently, helping you out. “Scent doesn’t lie, remember? You’ll like it, I promise.”
“And if I don’t?” you ask.
He nudges your chin with the tip of his nose. “If you don’t, we’ll stop. Simple as that.”
“Okay, but can you stop?” You angle your head so that he can press a kiss to your cheek. “When you’re like this… under the influence of a rut. Can you stop?”
Silence hangs in the air as he pulls away to look at you, his expression suddenly somber despite the glaze of unbridled lust that still coats his unnatural eyes.
“I’d never hurt you,” he finally says. “I’d rather die than hurt my mate, that’s why I was ready to leave before.”
Kiba’s voice is stone cold serious. The intensity he chooses to speak with so that he can get his point across causes butterflies to spring free inside your belly.
You can still feel them fluttering around by the time his clawed hands manhandle you into the position he wants. Laying on your stomach now, you let out a little noise of surprise when his weight presses you further down into the silky nylon of the sleeping bags the moment he tops you.
He’s heavy, taking the profound size difference into account, but you’re pleased to find out that it’s the kind of weight that comforts you instead of suffocating you. You feel warm. Safe.
“Can I…?” he trails off.
His exhale tickles the back of your neck, making the hairs there rise to attention as you shiver and say, “Well, that’s what I’m here for, aren’t I?”
“Oh, sorry, my bad,” he says. “I thought you were here for the s’mores.”
“Not funny— oh.”
Your back arches and your anger dissipates into nothing as soon as he begins to push inside you again, careful not to stuff you full too fast. After all, while it might be easier to fit him inside you this time thanks to your earlier endeavours, it still remains to be no small task.
He’s as careful and considerate as he’s able to be in the state that he’s in. He pushes gently, but pushes nonetheless. By the time he sinks into you to the hilt and pauses to give you a minute, you’re both panting like you’ve just ran a marathon.
“You doin’ okay, bunny?” he rasps, voice so low and growly that it really does make you think you’re getting fucked by an animal. Or a beast, if you’d have to specify it.
“Yep, mhmm…!” You squeak out, your voice so high-pitched that it must surely hurt or at least agitate his ultra-sensitive hearing. You’re happy that he can’t see the fucked out expression that sits on your face right now. “Doing a-okay.”
“Don’t try to run away, now,” he teases when you wiggle your hips, trying to readjust yourself. “Or else the hunting instinct is gonna kick in.”
“Not to worry,” you practically chirp, feeling your body slipping into a fever at the way his big, calloused palm presses into the small of your back. “I’m staying put.”
He chuckles at how submissive he’s made you sound, at how there’s a prominent sheen of sweat gathering on your spine. Gliding his finger down your dewy skin, Kiba catches himself wishing to lick you clean of salt, but at the same time he just knows that you’d cause a fuss about it if he’d even mention the mere idea of it.
So for the following minutes, he doesn’t speak.
And neither do you.
You can’t speak from how deep he’s pushed himself inside you, anyway. No, all you can do is moan and whimper uselessly as he then proceeds to fuck you, to make love to you, to break you apart just to reassemble you until you’re whole again; all in the position he likes best.
He makes you sweat. Makes you cry out to him as you allow yourself to get lost in deeply-rooted carnal pleasure and you need his help to bring you back to morality. At some point, his arm even ends up reaching underneath you and wrapping around your stomach just so he can hold your hips up when you try to crawl away despite telling him that you’re going to stay put earlier.
Judging by the way you’re reacting to him, Kiba guesses that he’ll have to carry you down the hill when morning comes.
Meanwhile, you’re unsure if it’s the bond that’s making you feel this wild or the simple fact that he’s not entirely human. However, when you at long last feel yourself clenching around him, and when that tight, almost unbearable heat that’s inside your tummy finally spills free and spreads throughout your whole body, you realize that you don’t really care what the reason behind your sudden recklessness might be.
“Fuck. M’not gonna last long, sweetheart… No fuckin’ way that I’m gonna last when your cunt’s milkin’ me dry like that,” Kiba grunts out as he feels you gush and start creaming on his cock. There’s a ring of milky slick gathering at his base already — the sight and sound of it turns his thrusts jerky and irregular.
“Don’t get scared of the knot now, okay?” His upper lip trembles as he swallows hard. “It’ll be there just for a minute, I swear.”
“Knot…? What’s a—Oh, my gosh, Kiba; I am going to fucking murder you!”
The sudden swelling you feel inside your pussy practically bullies its way up to your cervix as he hunches his back and gives you one last, final push.
Your toes curl as the ‘knot’ — or whatever he calls it — plugs you, and also succeeds in making you entirely rigid in return. Every last inch of your body feels tingly from the foreign sensation as he lets out one final groan, that sounds more like a pained whimper than anything else, and simply fills you up to the brim with warm, thick, endless ropes of cum that paint your abused walls entirely white and simply refuse to spill out of you.
You stare off into the darkness, listening to his ragged breathing whilst trying to tame your own. Eventually, his cock softens enough for your cunt to not feel like it’s going to fucking explode from the fullness. And as soon as that happens, he drops down upon poor, unsuspecting you; feeling completely, utterly exhausted.
Your werewolf best friend is squishing you flat like a pancake and is spoiling you with messy kisses after fucking you like an animal in the middle of the woods. And you’re just… fine with that?
The realization makes you smile.
Maybe living your life on the edge for once and being a little bit spontaneous isn’t as bad as you think.
———
“I really hope that your pills can withstand all that werewolf cum I’ve just pumped into ya, ya know. ‘Cause otherwise we’re gonna be having an entire litter of pups.”
“For the love of god, can you please use your lowly developed frontal lobe for like a second of your miserable life, and just keep watch like I told you to?”
“This is pointless. There’s literally no one here besides us and a couple of deer.”
“Shush! I’m trying to pee and I can’t do that when you keep on running your big-ass mouth!”
“Words, words, words; I am saying so many words just so that you won’t be able to piss.”
“Shut up already!”
With his back turned towards you and his hands stuffed into the pockets of his sweatpants, Kiba fights back a laugh as he listens to you relieve yourself in the nearby tall grass.
After fucking you close to stupidity nearly three times in a row now — and mounting you twice during those three times — the young werewolf feels somewhat content with himself at long last.
He’s fucked most of the rut out of his system by now. Besides that, you’ve also talked a lot, apologized to each other, and cleared up some misunderstandings. He’s even managed to place a hickey on that spot on your neck where your scent is the strongest and where, he hopes, you’ll let him place an actual bite mark someday.
But for now, you’re taking it slow. On Saturday, he’s taking you out to dinner at that little restaurant by the lake that you’ve always liked visiting with your parents.
And who knows, maybe after you share dessert together, you might even go for a swim so that he has an excuse to take his shirt off in front of you and you get to make fun of him for it, or whatever.
So lost in his thoughts and all the planning he has yet to start pondering through, Kiba barely hears the rustle of your footsteps when you approach him from behind.
He tenses, whipping his head in your direction only a millisecond before you manage to put away your travel sized packet of baby wipes that he teases you for constantly carrying around with you, and you place your hand on his shoulder.
Your eyebrows rise up towards your hairline in response to his visible startlement. “Did I just manage to sneak up on the so-called ‘apex predator’?”
“You wish,” he says as he absent-mindedly brushes you off. “I could smell ya from a mile away.”
You frown. “That’s so mean!”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he drawls, sighing. “It’s just that you smell like me, now… It stands out.”
“That doesn’t make me feel any better.” You stick your tongue at him, looking up at him with your hands on your hips. In the moonlight, he’s even handsomer than usual in that weirdly rugged way that only he can pull off. “Can we go back inside the tent now? I’m exhausted after the entire...”
“Fuckfest?” he offers with a tricksy grin.
“Shut it!” you chide before you shove your phone’s flashlight right into his face as punishment.
Back inside the tent, you don’t have any sort of trouble with undressing yourself in front of your best friend this time. Your hoodie and t-shirt are tossed off, leggings following soon after — until you’re curling up against his strong chest in nothing else but your socks and underwear.
His body temperature isn’t nearly as hot as it was before, but the skin on skin contact provides you with enough warmth to be comfortable as you turn around to face him.
Kiba’s hair is mussed and his eyelids are already hooded with upcoming sleep when he lifts them just barely enough to look at you. The rut really has taken a toll on him; on the both of you alike.
“What is it now?” he mumbles lazily.
“Do you think,” you start, swallowing hard. “Do you think that we’re going to be okay?”
He smiles, the quirk of his lips faint. “I know we will.”
“And our friendship?” you ask, pressing your palm against his chest. “Do you think all of this is going to ruin it?”
“Nah, I think it’s goin’ to make it even better,” he says, fixing a loose strand of hair behind your ear before he settles back. He yawns, rubbing his eye as he mutters, “Besides, we’re gonna take it slow. Just like you’ve said.”
“And you’re fine with that?” you ask.
“‘Course I am,” he replies sleepily.
“Why?”
“Because you’re important to me,” he says. “So if you want to go slow, we’ll go as slow as goddamn snails if we have to.”
You let out a little laugh that sounds like wind chimes to him. “You’re so lame.”
Kiba grins, his heart fluttering at the sight of your smile. “Not as lame as you.”
And maybe, just maybe, going steady and experiencing peace for a change isn’t so bad either.
tags: @his-sweet-minx @rookie98writes @qichun @redskyvenus @simply-chillin-here @shanjisan
#kiba x reader#kiba smut#naruto smut#biscuit fics#kiba inuzuka x reader#naruto x reader#cw breeding#cw monsterfucking#cw omegaverse#cw knotting#kinktober#kiba inuzuka
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I Like the Taste of Blood When You're Tearing Me Apart
Another Call of Duty fic! This was meant to be a short, sweet little ficlet about Ghost nesting. Guess who went nuts again? haha.
Explicit. Warnings: Intersex Omegas, A/B/O, Mating Bites, Mild blood, breeding kink, knotting, vaginal fingering/oral/sex. 5,300 words.
Ghost/Soap
---
“This is bullshit,” Ghost growls, and Price just holds up his hands palms out at him.
“I agree, but it’s out of my hands,” he says with a shake of his head. “And honestly Ghost…Simon, this isn’t healthy. You’ve been on blockers for fifteen years, and no one is cleared for more than a year without a break. Medical won’t let you back in the field unless you come off them and have your heat. I’m sorry, but I don’t want to lose you to this.”
“Fifteen years and I’ve been perfectly fine,” Ghost argues even though he knows he won’t do any good. Price he may be able to convince, but the bastards down in medical won’t even talk to him about it. There’s a reason why he prefers to take care of his own problems. “If I refuse?” he asks in one final attempt to get out of it.
“Honorable discharge.”
“Fuck. Fine. I took my last one last night, and I’m sure they’re not going to refill my script until I go through with this. I have leave for it? A room on base?” he asks, clenching his jaw at the thought of being locked in one of the heat rooms, cooped up like an animal as he rides out his heat.
“Room’s been booked and you and MacTavish both have the week off for it,” Price tells him with a nod.
“Johnny?” Ghost asks, blinking in confusion.
“Yeah, unless the paperwork you both filed naming each other partner was wrong, you’re in this together. Mates take rut and heat leaves together. You know this,” Price says with a frown. “And if this is about the lack of bite on your neck, don’t be an idiot. We all know you belong to each other. First heat in fifteen years might be the right time to make it proper.”
“All due respect, Sir, fuck off,” Ghost mumbles, but his mind is already reeling from the implications. They’re as official as it can be without a mating bite, since a bite won’t take with the meds running through his system. This is a truly fucked up situation, but maybe some good can come of it. Still, he won’t bring it up if Soap doesn’t mention it first.
���See you in a week,” Price says with a snort. He holds out a set of keys to Ghost and adds, “Room two. You know where to find it.” Ghost pockets the keys and nods sharply before stomping out of his office.
—
“So this is…less than ideal,” Soap says, and Ghost just snorts at him.
“You fucking think?” he grunts out before running a hand over his face. He inhales deeply a few times, exhaling each breath as slowly as he can, and feels himself settle down a little. It helps even more when Soap moves closer, wrapping his arms around his waist from behind and putting his head between Ghost’s shoulder blades.
“Let’s go to bed. There’s nothing to be done about it tonight, so let me just hold you for the night,” Soap suggests, and Ghost sighs.
“I don’t need taking care of,” he mutters, and Soap just hushes him gently.
“I know you don’t, but let me anyway? It makes me feel good,” Soap explains, and Ghost can hardly deny him that. He nods and Soap kneels down, carefully untying Ghost’s boots and sliding them off his feet. Then he walks over to the closet and grabs a pair of his sleep shorts and an oversized cotton tee that’s nearly worn thin from use. “Go get ready for bed,” Soap instructs, and Ghost grabs the clothing before ducking into the bathroom to comply.
He leaves his mask on the edge of the sink and takes time to wash his face carefully, making sure all the grease is gone from around his eyes. It’s not like he’ll need to hide in the heat room anyway. It’s just him and Soap for the next few days, and he hasn’t kept any part of himself from Soap for months now.
By the time he leaves the bathroom, Soap has stripped down to his shirt and boxers and is holding the covers up for Ghost to join him. It should rub him wrong, how easily Soap takes over his room, but instead it makes something warm light up in his chest. He shoves that aside and slips under the covers.
They end up with Soap on his back and Ghost curled up against him. Soap runs his fingers through Ghost’s hair, humming softly because it’s physically impossible for him to be completely silent. Ghost doesn’t purr, but he gets damn close as he lets Soap dote on him.
Then of course his idiot boyfriend has to stir up trouble.
“What do I smell like to you?” Soap asks, and Ghost blinks in confusion, tossing the question around in his mind.
“Why?” he settles on.
“Humor me,” Soap mumbles, and Ghost can feel himself give in.
“You smell…calm, which is ridiculous given your personality,” he says, laughing when Soap swats him playfully. “It’s a combination of earl grey tea and the air right before a rainstorm, with a bit of citrus mixed in.” Soap hums happily, but he can tell there’s more to the conversation. Ghost sits patiently and waits for him to continue, and eventually he does.
“I haven’t ever been around you without blockers, what’s your natural scent like?” Soap asks, and he bristles in response. He’s more than an omega scent, more than his stupid slick, more than just a pretty little mate.
“Baja blast,” he spits out, and Soap blinks at him before nodding awkwardly.
“Sorry, I’m just…we’ve been dating for months and there’s so much I still don’t know,” Soap explains softly.
“You know me better than anyone, what I smell like doesn’t change a god-damned thing. Hell, I don’t even remember. My father put me on the damn blockers right after my first heat. I could smell truly fucking awful,” he says with a sigh.
“I’d still love you if you smelled like rotten meat,” Soap says helpfully, and it serves its purpose. The tension breaks as they share a laugh, and Ghost lets himself lay on Soap properly now, crawling on top of him and just wrapping around him like an overgrown octopus.
“It’s a stupid thing to be upset about,” Ghost mumbles into Soap’s shoulder. “You’re stuck with me, even if we’re not mated.”
“Yet,” Soap says quickly, causing Ghost to snap his head up and look at him.
“Yet?”
“You honestly think I haven’t wanted to tie myself to you in every way possible? I know a mating bite won’t stick with the blockers, so I was going to bring it up at some point soon anyway. I’m yours if you want me,” Johnny tells him softly.
“I do,” he whispers back, smiling as Johnny’s expression softens.
“No take-backs,” he says seriously.
“No take-backs,” Simon echos.
And suddenly it’s too much, too much panic, too much talking, too much existing for today. Thankfully Johnny gets how he works and just presses a kiss against his temple and rubs his back until they both fall asleep.
—
Ghost is lounging on his bed - definitely not brooding - and trying to figure out how the next few days are going to go. He can already feel his body changing, everything a little bit more at the moment, and it’s not something he can ignore. His heart beats slightly faster, his body running just a little hotter, and there’s an odd smell in the air that he is shocked to realizes is his own fucking scent. He’s about to spiral, but thankfully the door flings open and Soap kicks it closed behind him before holding out a handful of items at him.
“What’s this?” Ghost asks as he climbs off the bed. Soap sways from foot to foot, practically dripping with nervousness, and Ghost studies him closely as he walks over. With his heightened senses, he can practically feel Soap’s heartbeat in his ears, and it’s rabbiting in his chest like a wild thing.
“I, er, I took the liberty of securing you some things from the team,” Soap tells him slowly. He hesitates for a brief moment before shoving the armful of things at Ghost. “There’s something from Price, Gaz, and a few things of mine. You know…for your nest.”
Ghost startles as he looks down at the bundle of clothing in his arms. He can spot one of Price’s stupid bucket hats right away, half wrapped in a pair of sweats too small to be anyone but Gaz’s. Soap added a few of his workout shirts, practically dripping with his calming scent. Ghost stares down at everything and starts to panic that he’s out of his league here.
“I…I’ve never made a nest,” he admits, and Soap gasps at him. He feels stupid, but his first heat had been a rush, his father throwing a fit and locking him in the basement until it had run its course, and there hadn't been anything to sleep on let alone nest with.
“We can figure it out together. I mean, you can figure it out and I’ll be there to catch you when you inevitably freak out, much like always,” Soap says with a soft laugh. Ghost rolls his eyes but feels a bit better already.
“Am I supposed to collect things on my own?” he asks, already at a loss of how the process goes. He’s pretty sure omegas ask their pack for nesting supplies.
“I figured you’d be too proud to ask the other guys, so I’d help out. Price and Gaz were really excited to help! But I can give them back. It’s not a big deal,” Soap says, and immediately something clenches in Ghost’s chest. He growls at him, eyes narrowing as he clutches the items to his chest. The familiar smells of his team, his pack, surround him and he opens his mouth before his brain catches up.
“No! They’re mine now!” he grunts out, and Soap’s eyes widen as he nods quickly. Ghost sighs and takes a deep breath to calm himself. He can already feel the fight or flight response kicking in over something as stupid as an armful of clothes. “I…I think my hormones are already fucked up.”
“I would say you’re right,” Soap chuckles softly. Ghost ignores him in favor of burying his face in the clothing, the comforting scent of his pack washing over him. He didn’t even realize he needed this, but of course the alpha did. He’s a good choice. He winces at the way his instincts have taken over at this point, but he feels too good to dwell on it.
“We’ll go to the heat room later and I can put everything together. One more thing I need, though,” Ghost says hesitantly. Soap looks eager to give him anything so he presses on. “Go get all your bedding and bring it back. I want to sleep with everything tonight.”
“On it,” Soap says, offering a mock salute as he turns to leave. Ghost reaches out and slaps his ass for the insubordination, and they’re both laughing as he heads towards his own room. Ghost isn’t sure why they haven’t combined rooms already, since they’re always together at this point anyway. If they do go through with the mating, they’ll be able to move in legitimately. Normally mated couples are given larger space, but Ghost’s rank already affords him more than enough perks.
—
“Johnny, wake up,” Ghost says, tapping him on the shoulder. Johnny wakes up swinging and lets out a loud shriek.
“What the fuck? What time is it?” he spits out, sitting up and rubbing at his face.
“02:00,” Ghost tells him, and Soap looks at him like he’s deranged. Which, come to think of it, Ghost realizes he probably is. He can already feel the pre-heat raging through his body, and he knows he’ll be in full heat by morning.
“Is there a reason why you woke me up?” Soap asks, still blinking the sleep out of his eyes.
“I’m not about to let everyone see me dragging my fucking nesting materials across base. Get up and grab the bedding. We’re going now,” Ghost informs him, and Johnny snorts but does what he’s told.
“Let me put on a shirt at least,” he mumbles, grabbing one from Ghost’s drawer. It hands on his frame, and he looks adorable in it. Ghost can’t help shifting his duffel bags to one hand and reaching out to cup his cheek. He leans in to kiss him softly before pulling back and smiling.
“Gonna make you take it off as soon as we get to the heat room, anyway, but I like how you look in my clothes,” Ghost murmurs before gesturing at the pile of bedding Soap yanked off the bed. He bends down to gather it all in his arms, and Ghost leads him out the door.
The walk to the heat and rut corridor is silent, but Ghost is constantly on alert for anyone who might be fighting the insomnia that claims him far too often. Thankfully they don’t run into anyone, and soon enough they reach his assigned room. He uses the key Price gave to him and ushers Soap inside.
“Stay by the door,” Ghost orders, and Soap blinks slowly but nods, pressing his back up against the door without question.
The next few minutes are a flurry of action. Ghost dumps the clothing - scented by his team but mostly Soap - onto the large bed and starts shaping it into a proper nest. He may not have done this before, but instinct and his military-instilled need for perfection take over. The bedding he and Soap have spent the last few nights on gets woven into the pile, and finally everything smells right, smells like home.
“You’re adorable, you know that, right?” Soap calls out from across the room and Ghost can feel his cheeks heating up under his balaclava.
“Fuck you,” he mumbles, which only makes Soap chuckle.
“Think it’s the other way around, love,” Soap tells him gently. Ghost flips him off but still starts undressing, suddenly desperate to get into his nest.
“Keep your dick to yourself before my heat kicks in. I’m gonna need you well-rested,” Ghost says before tugging off his mask. He tosses it onto the bedside table and then crawls onto the bed.
“Clearly the best way to ensure that is to wake me up in the middle of the night and drag me across the base,” Soap says, laughing as he climbs in next to Ghost. He darts in and kisses Ghost quickly before turning onto his side. Ghost curls up behind him, slinging an arm over his hips and pulling him tight against his chest. Alpha or not, Soap is his little spoon.
His last thought before drifting off is that he hopes they both survive this.
—
Simon wakes up on fire, his body burning up with the full brunt of his heat. Johnny isn’t awake yet, so he takes a moment to assess his situation. He’s so wet that slick is dripping down his thighs, and there’s a deep hunger inside him that only one thing will cure. He’s glad they stripped down before bed, because he’s not sure he’d be able to do it now.
“Johnny,” he whines, shaking the man currently wrapped around his side. He stirs with a sigh, wiping the sleep out of his eyes as he looks over at Simon.
And then his nostrils flare wide, his gaze turning feral as he grins at Simon. He runs a hand through Simon’s hair, tugging gently and drawing a moan out of him. “You smell so fucking good right now. Need my help, love?” he asks, and it’s all Simon can do to nod, his body already making him needy and half-drunk on it.
"Fuck me," Simon begs, his voice cracking as another gush of slick rushes out of his cunt. Soap runs a finger through it, gathering some up before sucking it off his fingers.
"Steamin' Jesus, you taste divine like this. Gonna go down on you for hours once the fever breaks, but I'll take care of you. Don't worry, love," he murmurs before lining up and slowly sinking into him.
Simon is half mad with it, his head full of cotton and static, but he whimpers at the stretch of Johnny's thick cock filling him up so good. Reaching up, he drags him down, their mouths meeting in a harsh kiss. He's too far gone to do much but growl into Johnny's mouth, but it still settles him, even just a little.
"Need your knot," Simon whines, beyond caring how fucking needy he sounds. All he needs is his alpha's knot - his mate's knot - and the fever will break. He feels like clawing at his skin, so he runs his blunt nails down Johnny's back, leaving red scratches in his wake. Johnny just fucks him harder, pounding into his cunt with so much force that he nearly bucks Simon out of his carefully constructed nest.
"You smell so amazing, so perfect for me, so ripe," Johnny murmurs against his neck, and he tilts his head to the side, offering his neck for the mating bite. "Not yet, don't want to end this so soon."
"But you will? You'll bite me?" Simon asks, panicking at the thought his chosen mate might not keep him. He knows it's stupid, because they've talked about this, agreed to it already, but the fear still hits him hard. Hormones are so fucking stupid.
"Aye, I'm never giving you up. Gonna be stuck with me til the end of our days. My pretty little omega," Johnny tells him, and Simon grumbles at him. He's not pretty. He's rough and haggard and deadly. "None of that," Johnny tsks him, "you're pretty if I say you are. Now let's see how much this perfect little cunt of yours can take."
And then they're moving, bodies slamming together as Johnny fucks him roughly. Even as out of it as he is, Simon can feel Johnny’s knot swelling up, can feel the base growing as his alpha plows into him. His poor neglected cock is trapped between them, leaking uselessly against his stomach. Digging his heels into the small of Johnny's back, he tries to change the angle, tries to get a little more friction on it.
"I got you, sweet thing," Johnny tells him, somehow working a hand between them without breaking his rhythm. Simon hisses at the nickname, but his inner omega is preening even if he denies it. He feels his orgasm building up and offers his neck again, desperate to feel Johnny's teeth in his skin.
"Need you. Do it!" He cries out, and thankfully Johnny doesn't make him wait again.
They both come as soon as Johnny's sharp teeth break through his skin, bonding them together with a flash of pain and blood. Simon shouts his name, sobbing as his climax rushes through him. His mind snaps, and all he knows is Johnny, all he feels is the weight of his alpha, the stab of his teeth and the blunt pressure of his knot finally slamming home.
Johnny grinds against him and paints his inner walls with his hot seed. Simon knows it won't take, not with his meds, but part of him wishes it would, wants to be round and full and properly bred.
"Fuck, Simon, you're gonna kill me," Johnny laughs breathlessly and nips at the curve of his jaw. "I'll breed you so good, pump you full of pups the second we retire." Simon hadn't even realized he was talking out loud, and he hides his face in his mate's neck.
Johnny rolls his hips, grinning his knot into him, and Simon gasps as another orgasm crashes through him. He clings to Johnny and rides it out, feeling another burst of Johnny's come flood into him as he clamps down around his knot.
"We can't possibly keep this up all week," Johnny mumbles against his chest, and Simon laughs at him, the fog clearing from his heat-addled brain.
"Biology says otherwise, but I'm glad for the break," he admits.
"Well I'm properly drained, so just let me lay here scenting you until you need me again," Johnny laughs before lapping at his bond mark.
"What do I smell like?"
"Like peat and the seaside, and a touch of bomb smoke," Johnny whispers. "Some of my favorite things."
"You're bloody insane," Simon tells him before nuzzling into him more. He feels another wave of come fill him, but is too exhausted to do anything but lay there.
"You didn't bite me," Johnny says softly, and Simon nearly bucks him off with the speed he tries to sit up.
"You want me to bite you?" He asks, eyes wide as Johnny shoves him back down.
"Course I do, but I'd also like to keep my prick right where it is. Don't move again until my knot goes down," he says with a snort.
"Most alphas don't let their omegas bite them," Simon reminds him quietly.
"Most alphas are stupid fucks, then. I want your mark just as much as I want to see mine on you. Make us equal, Si. Claim me," he orders.
Simon doesn't waste time, sinks his teeth into Johnny's scent gland the second he tilts his head. The coppery flavor of blood bursts across his tongue, and he bites harder, making sure his mark will last. When he’s done, he laps at the bloody wound, sighing happily at how warm he feels now.
“Gonna sleep until it hits me again,” Simon murmurs, and Johnny just holds him tighter.
—
“I can’t,” Johnny whines, sounding like he is barely able to move. Simon agrees, because it feels like they’ve been fucking nonstop for months now. He is without a doubt the horniest omega that ever existed. He can feel Johnny’s come dripping out of him, and yet his body still wants more.
“Medical said it could hit me hard,” he whispers, and Johnny fucking cackles at him.
“You’re telling me,” he says between laughs. “My dick is down for the count for at least a couple hours, but I’ve been meaning to get my mouth on you. Laying between your thighs will be good for my knee, anyway.”
“You didn’t tell me it was bothering you!” Simon chastises him, but Johnny just shrugs it off.
“Wasn’t really thinking about it until now. Turns out it’s hard to pay attention to the rest of your body while you’re getting your dick wet,” he says with a smirk. Simon rolls his eyes at him, but the concern quickly takes over..
“Well tell me if it gets worse. I think my heat should let up soon,” he says hopefully. But then a wave of cramps rolls over him and he breaks out in a sweat again. “Fuck me,” he mumbles.
“Like I said, give me a few hours,” Johnny tells him before sliding down the bed and sprawling out between his thighs.
Simon’s tiny cock is hard and leaking against his belly, and his cunt throbs, trying to clench down on nothing as he stares down at his alpha. Johnny just spreads his thighs wider and dips his head down, licking a wide stripe up Simon’s folds. He makes a sound like he’s gagging for it, and Simon figures he is. He looks up at him with dark blue eyes, and Simon can tell he’s smirking against his cunt.
Johnny looks completely unhinged, and it’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen.
He thinks Johnny will start slow, but after the first lick he’s like a man possessed. He flattens his tongue and licks the length of him again before reaching up to take hold of his cock. It’s small, barely a handful, but Johnny looks at it like it’s the best thing he’s ever seen. The first little kitten lick at the head of his cock has him grunting, and Simon has to fight to keep his hips on the bed.
Only Johnny pulls back and murmurs a quick, “It’s not more than a mouthful, which makes it easier for you to fuck my face. Take your pleasure, love.” He looks so wrecked, face red and eyes blown dark, and Simon can’t help falling a little more in love with him. He reaches down and rubs his thumb over the bite mark on Johnny’s neck, proof of his claim on his alpha. They both silver at the touch, and Simon grins down at him before bucking up into his mouth.
Johnny moans like the slut that he is, eyes struggling to stay open as Simon fucks into his mouth. He was right, his omega cock isn’t much, but it still has Johnny fucking gagging for it. He grunts and bucks his hips, feeling his cunt clench tighter as he works himself in and out of Johnny’s spit-slicked mouth.
“Need more,” he hisses, his body feeling overworked and yet so so needy. Johnny understands him - he always does - and pulls off his cock before catching his gaze and licking it one last time.
“I got you, Simon,” he reassures him, and Simon just nods, knowing he’d follow this man into hell itself if he asked him to. He trusts him to always take care of him, to always have his six.
Simon wants to say something profound, something soft and sweet to let Johnny know how gone for him he is, but his head is floating and he can’t do more than slap a sweaty palm weakly against his cheek. Johnny turns into it, smiling as he kisses the center of his hand. And then he pulls back, looking completely feral as he spits on Simon’s dripping cunt. He whines, and Johnny does it again, his gaze heavy before he slides back down.
He laps at his dripping hole, tongue thrusting inside as his scruff roughs up the insides of Simon’s thighs. He nips at Simon’s rim, sore from days of abuse, but the little sting of pain just makes everything so much more. He tightens his hold on Johnny’s hair, tugging roughly and dragging a moan out of him. It sends shock waves of pleasure through his core, and his hips slam up on their own accord.
Johnny goes with it, eating him out like his life depends on it, even as Simon is grinding against his face. He feels two fingers at his entrance and sighs as they push inside, his body begging for the knot he knows it won’t get. No, he’s thoroughly wrecked his mate, and yet Johnny is still doing his best, still taking care of him.
He’s pretty fucking perfect.
Time has no meaning, nothing does when all he can focus on is the rough slide of Johnny’s tongue over his folds and the thick press of his fingers inside of him. He’s burning up, sweating hard enough to cover them both, but Johnny just keeps lapping at him like he’s dying for it. The third and fourth fingers burn a little, and he’s absolutely shocked that his hole isn’t gaping after being knotted so much.
But there’s something amazing about his mate, this strong, mildly terrifying alpha who chose him. Simon knows it's his instincts, but he feels like they’re meant to be, are completely made for each other. The way Johnny’s fingers are fucking him so well only solidifies his crazy thoughts. The calloused pads of his fingers drag against that spot inside of him, and Simon loses all thoughts. All he knows is Johnny, the press of his fingers, the warmth of his mouth as he swallows his cock back down, the combined scents filling the room. It’s filthy and obscene and he can’t get enough of it.
And then there’s something else pressing at his hole. Simon nearly loses it when he realizes it’s Johnny’s thumb. He’s going to ruin him, but what a fucking way to go. He groans as Johnny’s thumb strokes the sensitive skin around his opening, his tongue fluttering around the head of his cock at the same time. He can multi-task like a fucking pro. Simon falls back, barely able to keep his eyes open as Johnny guides him towards his orgasm.
Simon keens, his back arching as Soap slips the thumb inside of him. The stretch is perfect, as close to a knot as he can get without Johnny putting his whole fucking fist in him, and isn’t that a fun idea to bring up later. He slams his hips up, and Johnny moans around his cock. His thighs are trembling, and he knows he’s nearly there.
“Close,” he whines, and Johnny starts fucking him faster with his hand, the bottom of it too wide to fit inside, but it feels like a knot about to pop, and Simon explodes. He probably crushes Johnny with his thighs, but he’s too far gone to worry about it. He spills down Johnny’s hot throat, his entire body shaking as he climaxes.
Johnny sucks him through it, curling his fingers the best he can and working over that spot inside of him. It’s earth-shattering, his cunt being so fucking full and his softening prick buried in the hot heat of Johnny’s mouth. He’s screaming, not sure if it’s words or primal nonsense, and his body feels like it’s coming apart at the seams.
He’s pretty sure he blacks out, because suddenly he’s blinking his eyes open and Johnny is leaning over him, grinning like he won the fucking lottery. His face is soaked in Simon’s juices, and there’s a bit of come stuck by the corner of his mouth. Simon raises a weak arm and runs his thumb through the mess, panting as he feeds it to Johnny.
His cock gives a twitch, but he’s spent for the moment. It feels like he just ran a marathon, and he feels like he could sleep for a week. “So good for me,” he murmurs and Johnny hums happily.
“You are so perfect. The best omega I could imagine,” Johnny whispers before catching his mouth in a quick kiss. They’re both too exhausted for more right now. Simon preens under the praise and rolls Johnny onto his side so he can spoon him. He’s filthy, covered in both their come and nearly a week’s worth of sweat, but he’s happy.
A deep rumble fills the room and Simon takes way too long to realize that it’s him. The last time he purred was when he was little and life hadn’t fucked him over yet. Hell, he didn’t even know he still could. But this insane man in his arms apparently makes him happier than anything else, and he vows to hold onto him the rest of his life.
“That’s it, purr for me, love,” Johnny mumbles as they drift off to sleep.
And when they stumble out of the heat room a day later, the rest of the 141 claps them on the back in congratulations, not a single person questioning their healed bond bites. Johnny moves into his room, and for the first time since he crawled out of his own grave, Simon is able to envision a future, a life outside the service. They discuss it in hushed tones in their shared bed, making plans and trading kisses while the rest of the base sleeps.
It turns out home can be a person instead of a place.
#my fic#cod#call of duty#ghost x soap#simon riley x john mactavish#ghoap#GhostSoap#simon riley#john mactavish#the military propaganda boys#cw knotting#cw intersex omegas#cw mating bites
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Hunt
M!Wren; GN! Reader; omegaverse; dubcon; some fingering; knotting; heat/mating cycle; dubcon
For @inkyquince Omega Hunt collab 💕
Roughly 2.7k words
Your lungs burn as you sprint through the forest, body aching as you try to get further away from town. You can hear some of your fellow omegas off in the distance; screams and cries as they’re caught and claimed. Something in you makes you want to stop at those sounds, drop to the ground, and curl up. Give up. It would be easy. So, so easy. Maybe you’d get lucky and the alpha or beta who found you would be nice. Maybe they wouldn’t hurt you. Would take things slow. Would be a decent person.
Yeah right, like there are any decent people in this town, participating in the mayor’s fucked up games.
Slick is starting to coat the insides of your thighs, making it harder to run.
Making your location more obvious to anyone nearby.
You keep going, the sounds of the hunt fading as you make your way deeper and deeper into the forest.
You don’t know how long you’ve been running, how far you are from town or how deep you are in the forest. All you know is the pain blaring through you, starting to override any rational part of your brain. Your legs hurt, your chest hurts. Your lungs and throat and feet hurt. You drop to your hands and knees, panting hard as you try to catch your breath.
Was it your heat? Was that the reason you felt like this? As if your body was trying to combust?
Or was it that chemical they’d doused you in before letting you loose?
Everything was brighter, louder.
Amplified.
You’d suffered through heats before but never like this. It had to be whatever they’d sprayed you with.
Fuckers.
A lazy breeze greets you, stirring the overhead leaves. You let your eyes drift close, enjoying the cool air caressing your burning skin and the rustling of the trees. It’s nice, this small reprieve, the breeze, the sound of the trees.
Nest.
Your eyes snap open at the thought, and you scramble to your feet.
No. No nesting. No stopping. No letting some random pervert find you and claim you.
You try to move, to take a step forward, only to crumple back to the ground, the world spinning.
Balling your fists, you try to bite back a sob with little success as a wave of heat crashes over you. You don’t even realize you’re crying, a steady drip of tears wetting the ground as you try to collect yourself.
Fuck it.
You crawl to the base of a large tree, its roots thick and wild. There are small, natural dens under some of the roots, enough room for you to tuck yourself away under one. It’s cramped and smells of rich, damp earth. Your throat constricts at the thought of crawling in there, but you have no choice in the matter. It’s safe. Or, safer, anyway.
You start to tear at the little clothing you’d been given, just a step above rags. The cloth grates against your skin as you tug it off, but you don’t care. You make what pitiful little nest you can at the moment with what you have. You’re not really sure if it’s better or worse, laying bare in the sad nest you make. Better, maybe. It quells some of the instincts raging inside you.
A nest is a nest, even one as small and miserable as the one you’d made.
Another pang of heat and pain hits you, and you curl into yourself with a whine. It’s now that you’re in a confined space that you catch the scent of your own slick. It makes your stomach turn, how strong it is. Sweet, fertile. You’ve never hated it more.
At least you’re finally alone.
“Over here!”
Shit.
You tense at the voice. You hadn’t heard anyone approaching, but you hadn’t really been able to listen either, as caught up as you were in your own situation.
Now you can, though. You hear a group of people headed your way.
Hunting as a pack wasn’t normal, but it wasn’t against the rules either.
Was this going to be your fate, stuck as the plaything for a pack? Or were they one of the businesses you’d heard about? There had been so many whispered rumors. So many anxious touches and darting eyes. You hadn’t known what to believe, but it wasn’t the most far-fetched theory that some of the businesses around town would hire a pack of betas to hunt down omegas. To drag them back into town, unclaimed, to get used as toys and breeding stock.
Briar was the name you’d heard whispered about the most, a brothel owner who loved to get omegas in their “employ” through the hunts. But there had been others, too.
“Slippery little thing, huh? Gettin’ all the way out here. Might be the last one for the night.”
Remy. That was the other name you’d heard whispered with dread by the other omegas
“Remy only expected five or so. Heard they already got what they wanted.”
You curl into a ball, trying to make yourself as small as possible, to hopefully keep any more of your scent from leaking out and calling attention to yourself.
“Then why the hell are we out here? Let’s just go.”
Yes, yes, yes, leave.
“What, and leave one so close? Out here to suffer? What are you, heartless?”
One of them laughs, and your stomach drops. They’re going to look for you. They’re going to find you. Take you back to their boss? Keep you for themselves? Fuck. Fuck. You bite down on your bottom lip, the tang of copper spreading over your tongue as another wave crashes over you. You screw your eyes shut, focusing on being as unassuming as possible as some of the voices get closer.
The one closest to you groans, their friends laughing.
“Seems like you’re the only one who wants to keep looking.”
“Ah, you guys don’t get it. They smell so good.”
“Yeah, yeah. Poor alpha,” a different one snickers.
Shit. Not just betas. An alpha too. They’d be able to find you easier.
“Oh, fuck off.”
“Fine, you want to look for them? We can spread out more. Shouldn’t be too hard with all of us.”
There’s a shuffling sound at the opening of your makeshift den. Your eyes snap open, stomach-dropping as you see the figure of a man crouching at the entrance to the tiny den. He’s backlit by the moon, making him hard to make out. Just lean body and well-muscled arms and an almost angelic halo of blond hair.
And his scent, sharp and burning.
Fire and honey.
Alpha.
You cringe, curling in on yourself as tightly as possible.
“Fuck, you’ve gone and made a nest, huh?”
His voice is soft, almost friendly, teasing.
You don't care, letting out a low growl, snarling, flashing your teeth.
You know it’s a futile endeavor, trying to drive this alpha away from your nest. But you try regardless. You have nothing to lose, after all.
He gives a low whistle, holding his hands up and palms out in something of a placating gesture. "Whoa now, lil' omega, no need for all that."
“Wren?” One of the others call, and the man tilts his head towards his friend’s voice, but he never takes his eyes off you.
“I dunno,” the man crouching in front of you calls back, “the boss has their numbers, but-”
“Please,” you manage to get out, “please don’t.”
He hesitates, and you take your chance. You uncurl from your protective position, moving until you’re propped up on your elbows. His breath hitches as you let your knees drop, giving him an unobstructed view of your hole. “Don’t,” you say again, “d-don’t call them over. Please.”
He swallows thickly, breathing hard as he keeps staring at you. You spread your legs a little more, hoping that your scent is enough to fog his mind. You’d never been around an alpha during your heat, unless the strange caretaker who guarded the omegas year-round until the hunt counted.
You don’t think they counted. They seemed unaffected by the omegas in their care, in the way some of them would get heats so bad that they’d offer themselves up to the caretaker in hopes of some relief. The caretaker was never affected, but you heard stories, knew what an omega’s scent was supposed to do to an alpha. How it could send some into lust-induced rages, make them turn on their own packmates.
“Wren?”
The man jumps as his friend calls for him again, eyes still locked on you. “I-” his voice is strained, and he cuts himself off to clear his throat. “You guys go on back to the estate. I’ve got some business in town.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah…yeah. Don’t bother waiting. Night like this? Probably won’t get done ‘til sun up.”
He stays crouched like that, eyes trained on you as you both listen to the sounds of his friends leaving.
It’s not long before it’s just the two of you, and you can’t help a whimper as another jolt of sharp pain shoots through you.
That’s all it takes.
The alpha- Wren?- is on top of you, grinding his clothed erection against you as he mouths at your neck. You hadn’t thought this far ahead. You knew what you were doing, that you were basically offering yourself up in the hopes that you’d only have to deal with one person instead of many. You had just thought, hoped, that you’d be able to push him off once his friends were gone.
But you can’t.
You feel weak, heavy, hands balled into fists at your sides as he moves against you. Another effect of that chemical? Or because you’d exhausted yourself running? Did it matter?
Besides, you don’t really want to push him away anymore. His lips feel sinfully good on your neck, tongue flicking over your scent gland and quelling some of the ache inside you. Better than some, then, actually seeming to take into account your comfort instead of just pinning you down and mindlessly rutting into you. That had to mean something, right?
Right?
You whine as one of his hands drift down between your legs, a finger idly circling your hole before slowly pushing in with ease.
Your mind blanks as he adds another finger, slowly curling them inside you. This whole time you’ve been struggling, fighting against the worst of your heat. Now, you stop fighting.
He lets out a breathless laugh as you buck against him on instinct.
Your heart skips a beat as his mouth moves, teeth scraping over your scent gland as he speaks. "Eager little thing, aren't you?"
"Sh-shut up," you bite out, continuing to buck into his hand.
He pulls back from your neck, a spark of something in his eyes. "Feisty, too. I like that."
You're about to say how you don't care what he likes, only for your voice to catch in your throat as he presses against a spot inside you that leaves you tongue-tied, your words reduced to jumbled sounds.
He keeps petting that spot inside you, the den filled with an obscene squelching as more slick is coaxed out of you with every movement. Some tiny rational part of you wants him to stop. Even as you moved against him, continued to grind into his hand, it was starting to become too much. Too much friction, too much pleasure, too much of his heavy breathing and whispered praise.
Yet, also not enough.
Even as you cum, rocking on his fingers and nails digging into the palms of your hands, it’s not enough.
“More,” you barely recognize your own voice as you manage to surge forward, wrapping your arms around him and making him tumble backward.
Wren lets out another breathy, giddy laugh as you fumble with his clothes. His world is starting to narrow, starting to become nothing but you. Your scent, sweet and needy and calling to him. Your hands, burning as they pull his cock out and press his leaking tip to your hole. Your mouth as it drops open, letting out a long, pleasure-filled sigh as you sink down on his length. Fuck, you. Everything. The way you enveloped him. The way you squeezed around him. The way your slick dripped down onto him, onto his pelvis, and down his thighs.
This isn’t Wren’s first romp with an omega. Not even his first time trading favors with an omega during the hunt. It was accepted. Expected, even. He went out, hunted for Remy, and, in return, he could maybe have a taste of what the elites liked to keep for themselves. It was fine. Wren wasn’t looking for a mate, but for fun, and that kept the worst of his rut from ever triggering during a hunt. Omegas might smell delicious, might look pretty under him, but he didn’t want them. Not in the way the others did.
But this was different.
You were different.
You’re whining into Wren’s neck, nuzzling at his scent gland, pressing against it in a way that’s making him release more and more pheromones. You’re clawing at his chest, small omega claws digging into the fabric of his shirt and scraping over his nipples. You’re frantically humping his cock like it’s the last thing you’re going to do before you die.
And it’s making Wren’s head spin.
He rests his hands on your hips, reveling in the way your muscles flex under his hands as you continue moving against him.
The knot at the base of his cock is starting to swell, your whines and gasps getting louder as it grows inside you, stretching you in a new way. He should…pull out. He hasn’t knotted anyone before. Or, well, never an omega. Certainly never an omega during a hunt.
He doesn’t want to get stuck inside you, but the more he moves, grips your hips and tires to get you to slow down, the more desperate you become. And fuck if he didn’t want to feel you clenching down on his knot, milking him for all he’s worth.
But…he shouldn’t. Should make you stop. Should shove you off him and maybe cum across your chest or face or-
Wren chokes as you press your mouth to his neck, sucking on the skin over the scent gland. His fingers dig into your hips and blood wells up where his nails pierce skin.
He's fucked. He's so totally fucked. You're too good around him, knot firmly keeping him in place as you keep humping away. It's going to be a fucking nightmare for him to explain this to Remy, but-
You bite down.
It's not much, not the same as an alpha's bite. Your teeth are weaker, duller, but it still means something. Still marks Wren as your alpha. Still sends waves of heat coursing through his veins, a pleasure so intense that Wren's vision goes black as he finally reaches his end, shooting thick ropes of cum inside you.
You keep going. Even as you feel him twitching inside you, even as he goes limp under you, you keep grinding against the alpha under you. Even as your heat subsides somewhat as he paints your insides, saps that little bit of frenzied energy you’d been functioning off of, you keep moving. You’re practically laying on top of him at this point, chest to chest as your hips still weakly move.
A yelp of surprise rips from your throat as the alpha under you jerks forward, wrapping his arms around you. You can’t fight him as he presses you back into the tiny nest you created. Not that you want to, still trying to grind away on his knot as he looms over you.
There’s a strange light in his warm eyes as he stares down at you. The full start of his rut, maybe? Strange alpha, your strange alpha, only now going into rut.
“Fuck, little omega,” he says with a laugh. His voice has dropped lower than the last time he spoke, you think. It sends a shiver down your spine, a small whine slipping from your throat. “Glad I told the pack I wouldn't be back ‘til mornin’. Gonna catch hell for this, though, showing up with your mating mark. You’ll make it worth it, right?”
#dol collab#degrees of lewdity collab#omega hunt collab#degrees of lewdity#wren the smuggler#tw omegaverse#cw omegaverse#tw dubcon#cw dubcon#tw knotting#cw knotting#if you squint you can imply a relationship between wren and remy#(totally heavily author implied relationship between wren and remy)
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i deserve to be knotted
#— alex rambles#cw omegaverse#cw knotting#LMFAO as a treat i deserve it#ok im taking myself to bed#i genuinely will only get worse otherwise
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Kinktober Day 3: knotting + monsterfucking
MINORS DNI
warnings: dom top amab gn werewolf reader, sub bottom Idia, knotting, monsterfucking, belly bulge, scent kink
Even if you didn't have his smell memorized like a bloodhound, Idia would be the easiest thing to find in this deep dark forest. His hair gives him away every time.
"Good evening, little one," you growl softly, tugging on Idia's glowing fiery hair gently. The man squeaks and swivels around, the tips of his hair turning pink.
"H-hello," he gives you the cutest smile displaying his sharp teeth.
After meeting with him so many times, you’ve learned you have to take the initiative, so you wrap your clawed hands around his waist, and hear his heart rate pick up from the action. Slowly, you lean in to shove your nose against his neck. Inhaling deeply, you let his scent surround you. Idia shakily starts scritching you behind the ears, and you know your tail is wagging behind you.
“You smell good,” you tell him honestly, licking his skin a bit to hear him whimper.
“Don’t make fun of me,” he whines, “I haven’t showered today, I probably stink,” he mumbles woefully. You graze your teeth along his skin teasingly, then inhale again.
“I’m not making fun of you, Idia,” there’s a certain rumble in your voice that comes out when you drag out his name, and you can smell the arousal wafting off him when he hears it. You pull back to look at him, “you smell so good I want to eat you.”
You’re both lucky this isn’t your first time. Had you admitted that the night you’d met him, Idia may have passed away from fear.
Tonight however, he clings to you, rubbing his legs together before softly whining, “please.” And how could you possibly deny him.
You hoist him up easily, walking a few steps so you can pin him against a tree. He’s hard already, his pants tenting in a way that you figure must be uncomfortable.
"Let me help you out of these, sweetheart," using your claws you pull on the hem, "oh?"
Upon pulling his pants down you find that Idia is bare underneath. You hum appreciatively, taking him into your hand and stroking him slowly. With the little whimpered noises he’s making, you feel your cock begin to unsheathe itself.
“Did you prep yourself for me baby boy?” Idia nods eagerly, grinning excitedly. Your hand leaves his dick (and Idia lets out a whine that’s so soft no one but you would pick up on) to reach down and feel for the plug that’s stretching him open right now. You tap at the base, then grab it and slowly begin tugging it out.
Idia clings to you, panting with anticipation already. He keens when you finally pull it all the way out.
“Did you bring lube Idia?” you ask, knowing that even with him preparing beforehand it will take lube to ease the pain that comes with taking your cock. He nods, fishing around in his hoodie pocket, before handing it to you. You reward him by leaning in and licking his neck affectionately.
You sloppily coat your now fully erect cock with lube, and hand it back to Idia. He pockets it, and looks at you expectantly. He must be getting desperate. You figure walking all this way with a plug in must have been arousing to say the least.
You line yourself up with his hole, and tighten your grip on his hips, “hold on pretty boy,” you growl playfully. Idia gasps when he feels your tip pop into his hole, his eyes roll back and his jaw drops open as you slide yourself deep inside of him with one thrust.
When you’re balls deep you pause, letting him adjust to you. You shove your face into his neck and inhale his scent as one of your hands slips under Idia’s hoodie. Idia lets out some garbled noise when you rub the bulge that you knew would be there (the first time the two of you fucked Idia had cum from the mere sight of it).
“Feels good having me inside, huh?” you mumble against his neck. Idia moans and flutters around you. You can feel your patience falter, but you keep your hips still for him regardless.
“Puh-please,” Idia whimpers after a moment, rocking his hips against your cock. You groan and nip his neck gently before thrusting your hips.
He’s gotten so much better at adjusting to your size, that you don’t have to start with the insufferably slow pace that you used to begin with. Instead you snap your hips up into him at a fairly quick pace, reveling in the way that Idia moans and babbles.
“You feel so-oh good, big, so big,” he wails, his dick bobbing against his hoodie as you fuck him. You let out a noise between a groan and a growl at his words, nipping his neck gently then laving at the spot.
You doubt the two of you will last very long, fucking like rabbits in the dead of night.
You pick up the pace, savoring the sounds he makes, the way he smells, and the way he feels. You’ll come back to this moment on a night when he can’t come out to meet you, with a hand fisting your cock trying to stimulate the way he feels now.
“Idia,” you groan his name, and he tightens his hold on you, “I’m going to cum,” you warn, feeling your orgasm quickly approaching.
“Me- me too,” he tells you breathlessly, pre bubbling at his head and smearing onto his hoodie.
“Gonna breed you,” you promise, “fuck, gonna stuff you- nngh- full of my cum and knot you, you- hah- want that don’t you baby?”
“Yes, yes,” Idia practically squeals, “please.”
All it takes is a few more thrusts to pull you over. You thrust yourself all the way in, feeling your knot start to inflate to keep the cum in. Idia squeezes around your knot like a vice, cumming in tandem. You nuzzle your face against his skin, no longer nipping or licking, just trying to surround yourself with his scent.
Idia groans weakly when he’s done cumming. You imagine there’s no getting used to the feeling of being knotted.
“You did so good for me, pretty boy, made me feel so good,” you coo, still rubbing his belly bulge affectionately while your other hand rubs circles into his hip. Idia whines softly, burying his face in your fur so you don’t see him flush.
Once your knot goes down you’ll do the same thing you do after each night you spend together. You’ll plug up your cum inside of him, help him dress, and carry him (quietly, carefully) back to his dorm, then you’ll help him into bed and leave him with a kiss.
As you rub his belly you wonder if tonight will be the night that you gather the courage to stay until morning.
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