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#just....the difference in thinking it makes to imagine a person outside of yourself coming to harm or inconvenience from something you do
shadeswift99 · 2 years
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Thinking about how the players of Double Life immediately started subtly being more careful because of the soul bonds. Thinking about how even though this is a death game, even though the goal has always been to stay alive at all costs and take as little damage as possible, I heard so many variations on "I'm going to have to get used to taking care of you, too" from so many of them, followed by them taking much better care of themselves. Thinking about how out of their way they go not to take small amounts of mundane damage from falls and drowning because the harm feels different when it isn't just you suffering it. Just...thinking a lot about that.
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saetoru · 7 months
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✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ FIRST KISS — GOJO SATORU.
contents. fluff + mutual pining if you squint, it’s literally just you being satoru’s first kiss <3, he’s just a loser boy beneath all his facades !!
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it’s summer the first time you kiss satoru. his lips taste like the lingering sweetness of kikufuku. the cicadas are calling, and the sun finds every crevice of your skin to hug.
it’s hot outside—but you don’t mind the heat so much when it’s the fan of satoru’s breath against your skin. you can feel his hands tremble as they finds your hips. hesitant, you note as he pauses a moment before finally letting them rest against you.
“you’re eager, sweetheart,” he hums—because satoru, even dazed from the taste of you, is still persistently himself. large hands are gently cradling the curves of your waist—he’s warm there too, where he holds you and pulls you closer to his chest. he grins when you press a kiss to his jaw, rubbing circles into your hip with his thumb.
“it doesn’t feel like you’re kissing me while held at gunpoint either, gojo,” you roll your eyes. your hand cups his face, thumb tracing over the swell of his cheek gently.
gojo—his lips, rosy and just a bit swollen, pout at the use of his surname. surely, now that you’ve stolen the innocence of his lips, you can spare him a bit more than that. surely, the intimacy of his given name doesn’t outweigh the intimacy of exchanging breath.
satoru—he imagines the way the name would sound from you, carefully whispered like a secret. everything you do is careful, he’s noticed, everything about you is thoughtful and soft.
more than anything, you’re careful in the way you touch him. you’re delicate in the way you let yourself explore his skin, like he’s fragile and easy to hurt. like all he’s ever known is pain. it’s ironic—someone like satoru should know very little about pain, should never feel the devastating blows at its hands when infinity leaves more than enough room for him to remain untouched.
but you’re funny like that; take him by surprise as you carve out the slant of his cheekbone with your thumb slowly enough that you might almost think your touch is enough to slice the skin.
it’s nice, he thinks distantly, being handled with care is nice. it’s not something this world affords so easily.
“this your first kiss?” he asks shamelessly, throwing you that lopsided grin of his.
am i your first? is what he means to ask. what he wants to ask. what he aches to ask.
is he your first? or are you only his? has anyone else tasted the strawberry of your chapstick? was it a different flavor before it was ever strawberry? satoru hopes he’s the only one to ever explore the flavors your lips might come in—maybe you’ll try cherry next. he’d like that.
“it’s certainly your first kiss,” you giggle, thumb moving down to trace his bottom lip, “i can feel you trembling, y’know.”
not many people catch gojo satoru embarrassed—you do, though. that enough should make you feel like god, perhaps. who else is powerful enough to feel the strongest quake? who else feels the quivers of his hands and the uncertain hesitance under his touch?
no one but you—and you’d like to keep it that way.
his face flushes a little, against his control. even gojo satoru is not above the rush of blood rising to his cheeks, even he cannot stop the hue of color that paints across his face. he’s human, after all—and he deserves to be treated as such: with the fragility of being human.
“no it’s not,” he scoffs, “i’ve kissed plenty.”
“yeah?” you chuckle, admiring the rosiness of his flesh, “name one person.”
“i don’t recall anyone’s name,” he shrugs, hands still making sure to keep you painfully close. if you pull away, satoru thinks he might die—thinks he might never recover from the aftershocks of such devastation. “no one was ever worthwhile enough to remember.”
he’s too much sometimes—but never less than enough. you snort, huffing out a small laugh that rings in his ears and makes him gulp.
perfect—you sound and look and feel and taste perfect. gojo satoru is the strongest, but is he deserving of the one thing this earth has that’s devoid of flaws? he’s not so sure. but he can try to be worthy, and perhaps that’s enough.
“well, then tell me, gojo,” you murmur, gently slipping the bandages from his forehead to fall to his neck. he’s only recently left the sunglasses behind—you like him better this way. you can see the outline of his features better, even if you do miss his eyes.
“hm?” he quirks a brow, breath almost hitching when his eyes meet yours—since when have you looked at him like that? since when have your pupils housed so much affection for him? have you always done so, and he’s never noticed?
it would be a crime to not have noticed before this, he thinks, a cruel and terrible reality of missing every soft and affectionate gaze.
“will i be long forgotten after this kiss? or has this one finally caught your attention?”
there is no prior kiss to compare yours to—but there never needs to be one after, either. this is the best kiss he’ll ever have, the only kiss he wants to have. no one will ever feel like you, he’s sure of it. no one will ever make him feel what you do, and even infinity is something that cannot protect him from the risks.
but satoru is not scared, not of you—and never with you.
so he grins, tapping his chin in thought as he hums, “give me another, and i’ll decide.”
you scoff in disbelief—amused, if anything, before shaking your head. he can’t help the chuckle that escapes him.
“you never change, gojo,” you say fondly, “do you know that?”
“say satoru,” he says quietly. it’s almost a plead—it sounds like a plead.
you smile. it’s an innocent little thing, untouched by the cruelties of life—or maybe it has, and you still find a reason to stay pure. maybe it’s the latter, he realizes, maybe you’re just resilient enough to remain unwavering in the way you love so unapologetically.
“come here, satoru,” you whisper, gently pulling his face closer as you hold his cheeks.
desperately, he needs to taste his name rolling off your tongue—so he comes closer, bridging the gap and kissing you again. and again—and he can’t find it in him to stop.
the same day satoru has his first kiss, you call him by his first name. it’s summer. the flowers smell sweet as the cicadas call, and you put the sun’s heat to shame.
he’ll always stay warm wrapped in you.
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tbh this was supposed to be y’all fucking for the first time but then it just turned into this. alas, we prevail
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kestalsblog · 2 months
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Basic Tips to Improve Your Writing
I used to read a lot of unprofessional writing online, and through that endeavor, I started mentally compiling different qualities that turned me off to people's work right away. I'm sharing some of my thoughts about ways to improve your writing so others don't click off your work right away!
-Change paragraphs when different characters are speaking.
-In that same thread, remember to make new paragraphs and not have one giant block of text. This isn't only discouraging for some readers, but actually physically impossible to read for those who are visually impaired.
-Learn grammar. Sorry, but there is no way around this one. For example, commas aren't just for aesthetic appeal or your personal choice, and it will turn some readers away if your writing is littered with grammatical errors. You can't break the rules for creative purposes if you don't even know them, and the difference is generally apparent.
-Remember the narration style you've chosen. For example, if you're writing in third person limited, you can't think outside the mind of your main character. Don't jump suddenly to the thoughts of other characters or an all-knowing, omniscient voice.
-Slow down. Each word matters, so try not to think of writing as "I must get from Point A to Point B," but "I must get from Point A to Point B beautifully."
-Avoid repeating the same word or phrase too much, especially within the same paragraph. There are exceptions in dialogue, of course. (It's sweet when writers acquire their own personalized phrasings that mark their voice, but I have turned away from works where the exact same line just kept coming up again and again).
-Don't forget about setting. You might be able to imagine where your characters are, but no one else can if you don't let them know.
-Use a consistent verb tense.
-Your characters are not you and generally shouldn't always be mouthpieces for you to share your own values and thoughts.
-Your characters should sound distinctly different from each other, including their talking styles.
-Don't bog the reader down with too much description, and make sure the description you do have is realistic. Think about it. In the morning, do you wake up, go to the mirror, and think to yourself, "I looked at my shaggy dark hair and emerald green eyes"? Nobody thinks that way about their own appearance, and it feels like a forced way to let the reader know what the main character looks like.
-There's no need to start tossing out every character trait if it's not relevant to the story.
-Last, show some passion and excitement for your own work. Make sure the language embodies that passion because if you don't even care about your writing, who will?
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satoruhour · 5 months
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Gojo would make such pretty noises if he gets a BJ as he’s waking up
a/n: anon u r so real for this !!!!!!!!! i conquered my 2k essay! but also doin a shorter req bc i got distracted by changing themes and it’s late lol / @jabamin @hannzai @shotorus
warnings: fem!reader, consensual somnophilia, sort of subby gojo but not very established, pet names, oral (m! receiving), finger / thumb sucking, deepthroating, multiple rounds, spitting, sloppy bj sort of, this is what i think he would sound like hehe, n*sfw under the cut
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gojo’s always known he’s the most sensitive in the morning. before you, he’s settled for his hand, feeling around his centre when he wakes up hard and slips his hand under his boxers where it pumps slowly at his shaft. the orgasm always comes too fast and unsatisfactory, though, done more out of necessity than pleasure.
but you? he finds that he never wants to go back to his hand ever again. you treat him like everything good in the world, both with your soft demeanour and your pretty cunt, all for him and yet not at the same time. you’re so pliant and receptive to his touches and still, you have your own agency; you are your own person. that’s what he admires about you.
you infiltrate his dreams like a temptress, heat forming between his legs as he cuddles closer into what he thinks is your figure. there’s fire all over his body and his hairs stand and the trails the blaze leaves seem like fingers. they span his body, heart rate speeding up and he wishes he hadn’t buried his body in the sheets last night. they want to move, but satoru is locked down by sleep and your wandering hands.
“’toru . .” gojo moans at the soft voice that whispers his name in his dreams, unaware you’re doing the exact thing. you’re already drooling at the half-hard bulge that pokes out from below his underwear, clinging to his skin and darkening in colour with each trail of your finger along his body.
so sensitive . .
here, gojo looks as splendid as the morning tokyo sun even if the weather outside struggled to stay stable. the clouds soon hover over the city, pouring down light raindrops and the drop in temperature only makes your boyfriend whine again.
you poke a manicured nail to his length that twitches on its own, pressing and prodding with it and enjoy the soft sounds that escape his lips each time. “baby”, ”princess”, it’s a different name each time for satoru always enjoys referring to you with pet names, and the low raspiness of it only pushes your resolve further—
“it’s okay, sweets, you know you have access to my body. i trust you.”
even with your boyfriend’s authority, you’re still unsure shown in the way your hands hesitantly pull at his underwear. you’re snapped out of your dilemma when a drawled whimper leaves him, whiny and high-pitched in nature that it sends chills down your whole body. there are murmurs of your name on his lips, lingering like the sugary sweets and the saccharine of your kisses. the cold air is simply too much for his sensitive cock, and gojo’s hips buck in cute little jerks.
his length and girth always takes you by surprise no matter how many times you see it, but it feels just a little different when you’re the one to fish it out yourself. satoru is just so hard, pink mushroom tip leaking pre-cum all over his pelvis and a curve to his dick in wanton need.
you let out a breath when your soft hands wrap around his length, at the same gojo sucks in a breath in his sleep — if that was even possible — and tenses his thighs. in his dream you’re doing more than whatever you were doing right now, imagining your pussy wrapped around his throbbing cock.
but you like it slow. your hands drag themselves across his shaft, stroking slowly just to allow him to fully harden and gojo starts to kick his legs slightly, hands have begun to clutch uncomfortably at the sheets. your head lowers to his tip, blowing lightly at the sensitive area and it almost gets him waking completely from unconsciousness. wrecked moans and whines continue to weasel themselves out of his throat, brows knitted and mouth in a temporary ‘o’.
“satoru,” you call, with no intent behind it rather than just wanted to feel the syllables roll against your tongue, “satoruuu . .”
but the mission last night takes a good amount of toll on him. you stick out your tongue to kitten lick his weeping tip and your lover jolts in your hands yet again. it’s so adorable, seeing the normally confident man plead, and he wasn’t even conscious.
“y—yess . .?” you’re unsure if he’s sleep-talking or if he’s really awake but you press on. your mouth suckles on the tip like a pacifier, teasing the most sensitive part of his cock. there, you swirl your tongue around, hands still pumping lazily. gojo’s voice cracks on the next moan, reality sinking in on him bit by bit. you’re relentless, tonguing your muscle along frenulum and around.
and then when you look up, you can see a pair of drowsy eyelids open, looking with his blue eyes through the whiteness of his lashes. it feels like he wasn’t of this world, the initial confusion morphing into recognition and then pleasure —
“ohh . . f-fuuuckk . . ” gojo’s voice shakes as you then descend upon his shaft, warm mouth encompassing every inch of his cock until your nose buries itself in his pubes. the loud moan satoru lets out only makes your eyes roll to the back of your head, sure that your hips were grinding into the sheets. “a-always take my cock so well, shit.”
he’s normally reduced to a state of non-verbality in the morning, but he seems to still have some adrenaline from last night’s mission. gojo’s head meets with the pillow below him, stuck between enjoying how fucking hot your mouth feels versus watching you take all of him down your throat.
you start to bob your head, the gurgling noises along his throbbing length only adding to the lewdness of the scene. he lovingly trails his hand through your locks, brushing back stray hair that interferes with you. they continue to do that (his love knows no ends), undoing the knots in your hair while you uncoil the familiar feeling in his tummy. “baby, baby, baby—”gojo’s eyes squeezes shut and his chest heaves needily with lined sweat, neck straining just to catch a glimpse of how you deep-throat him. your fingers grasp onto his thighs so harshly that they would probably bruise.
you’re keeping eye contact as you come up to breathe while gojo’s hand who took refuge in your hair switches its sanctuary to your face. his heart and dick jumps when you lean into the touch, both your hooded lids matching each other before his thumb runs over your bottom lip. in the rainy morning, you can exchange words without saying anything; you just know satoru that well.
gojo’s thumb traces the softness of your lips before he dips it inside and you take the finger into your mouth willingly, sucking intently as you make the strongest weaker and weaker by you, alone. all he does is spiral, moans transforming into little whines at how you suck on his thumb and it’s off — because then after your mouth closes in around his cock again and he swears so loud it probably reaches the neighbours.
“mmfuuuck—! o-oh my god—” your head bobs again, tongue running along the underside of his cock each time you do, hands moving along the places where you can’t reach and the moans that fill your ears only gets needier and needier. “princess i���m gonna— pleaseplease—!”
gojo has that split second to prop himself up just so he can see you take his cum down your throat, a hand holding your head in place alongise a makeshift ponytail. but your mouth mimics your pussy so well, wrapped snugly around him that he has no time to warn you before he’s cumming deep into your mouth. you jerk in surprise before moaning at the feeling, letting him spurt ropes of cum down your throat as your pace slows down.
“c’mon . . let me see, pretty girl,” satoru assists you in coming off of his cock, and the white in your mouth spills out almost instantly. “aaattagirl . .” your boyfriend grins his infamous lazy morning grin that makes your heart do flips, faltering just a bit when you let his seed drip down your tongue and back onto his dick.
“s’much cum, satoru.” you mumble, intoxicated, fingers connected by strings of his cum and you gather saliva mixed with cum to spit onto his shaft and the gesture is so hot that he needs to see you do it again, and you indulge him — you push out saliva past your lips, a long string before he finally meets his sensitive tip again.
gojo reaches heaven a second time when your hands pick up pace again, slick noises now filling his ears.
“want more.”
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bro it’s like i forgot how to write 😭😭
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tired-biscuit · 5 months
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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)
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18+ MDNI, fem!reader/werewolf!bsf!kiba
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
———
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
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sgtgarricks · 1 month
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afab!reader
i think john price would be sooo incredibly oblivious to your advances to the point it pisses you off.
imagine you've had a crush on your captain for a few months now, you've dug around information and find out that yes, he is single.
so you get to work.
you smile at him whenever you see him (the only other person you usually smile at is soap). you try to stay later than usual to catch him leaving just so you can have a few minutes of extra conversation with him.
you're kind of touchy (but not too much), brushing your fingers with him whenever you get the chance. whenever you get called into his office, you make sure to crack a joke or two, just to see his eyes crinkle.
you were down bad for him. like, really bad. whenever he even slightly smiles or praises you, you preen like you just won a gold medal and your face feels hot.
so, you genuinely don't understand how he seems so unfazed?? at the very least he should've felt something was up and rejected you if he wasn't into it. but nope, he's still smiling at you, ruffling your hair.
okay, you think maybe you're being too subtle. it's been three months and there isn't any response.
you begin to bring him little gifts. nothing expensive or big, trinkets that would fit in your pocket. a little keychain of a cigar, a pin of his favorite football club, packets of his favorite coffee flavor.
"oh, what's this for then?" he'd asked, glancing at the little keychain.
"nothin'. just saw it and reminded me of you!" you grin happily. he still seems confused, but accepts your gift anyway.
"thank you, that's very kind of you :)" he gifted you one or two items, even going as far to let you ride shotgun on missions. you were feeling fairly optimistic.
this goes on for another three months, you bringing him something once every two weeks. it's gotten to the point where even soap and gaz have realized what's up (simon doesn't give a fuck).
"you got favorites now? don't think we've ever received a gift from 'em gaz." soap loves to make fun of your infatuation with price. gaz doesn't start anything, but he'd gladly chime in.
after half a year, you're pissed off. because how has he not said anything yet?? you thought he was starting to catch your drift but apparently not. he was either leading you on or genuinely thinks you were just being friendly.
you're over the top now, even simon's cringing slightly at you blatantly gushing over the captain.
you were linking your arm with his if you two walked somewhere together (his forehead did the little scrunch from confusion but didn't say anything).
anytime he wanted to show you something, you'd come around and stand as close to him as possible. one time you even put your head on his shoulder to read the document.
even your jokes had gotten more flirtatious without being overtly sexual. yet still... nothing.
you were pissed. you've been throwing yourself at him every chance you got, any more you'd get written up for fraternization. the next time all of you go out for drinks at the pub, you decide it's do or die.
you put on your best dress, one that hugs your figure nicely. you even do your hair and put a bit of make up on. tonight was the night you were either going to have your heart broken or have a good time.
when you open the door to the pub, you know gaz spots you first judging by the drink he just spat. soap turns and whistles, laughing loudly (simon didn't come). you see price is missing, but you find him at the bar ordering drinks. you slink next to him.
"another one for me?" he spins at the sound of your voice, eyes going wide for a fraction of a second. he coughs and brings up another finger to the bartender.
"you look..." he begins, you inch yourself forward to hear him better and shove something in his face. "different." the smile instantly drops from your face. you pull him away from the bar easily (he let you) and drag him outside.
"why are we out here?" he questions innocently. you huff, not believing the audacity of this man in front of you.
"captain. with all due respect, i don't know how many more signs i can give you before i lose my mind. i have my tits out," you gesture at them and his eyes falls downwards before going back to your face, "and you haven't even looked once."
"i like you, you can kiss me right now or tell me to fuck off and transfer me." you cross your arms, lips turning down into a frown. he was in shock, you can almost physically see a loading bar on top of his head.
to your surprise, he cups your face and leans down to kiss you. your heart was thumping and mouth slightly agape, but the only response you could think of was, "were you really that oblivious?"
"sorry, love. i thought you were just trying to ride shotgun." he grins.
what an idiot (affectionate).
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notes: ahfudshf my stupid old man <3
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hazashiovo · 23 days
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hii i was wondering if it was possible if you could do a korra x earthbender fem reader who is lin’s daughter?? thank you so much!! 🫶🫶
Ooo ,yes ofc <3
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The best view
"Stop staring." You words cut the thick silence in the room.
"I'm sorry,I just never expected Beifong to have a kid." She crosses her arms, looking you up and down. You scoff anoyed at her rude staring. "So? It doesn't mean I'm a painting so you can stare at me." You roll your eyes."Like mother like daughter." She mumbles,loud enough for you to hear her.
"I could never be like my mother." Her eyes follow you figure as you walk towards her. The girl then continues,"How come you're not in uniform?"her gaze eyes you up and down. "I'm not a police officer." You speak, making eye contact with her. "I just thought that if she had a kid, she would want you to work with her or something." She tilts her head looking at you. "She did,It was me who didn't want to."you slump down on the couch.
"I saw you bend,and I think you're pretty strong." Her body remains standing. "My bending is not the problem." You leave out a small smile at her compliment.
"Then what is it?" Before you could say anything, Lin enters the room. "Chief," your gaze follows Lin's.
"I have a matter to discuss with the two of you." Lin's gaze moves from you to the girl.
"I mean,that's the whole point why you got me here.* The dark haired girl shrugs,sitting down on the couch.
"(Name) ,I want to introduce you to Korra,the avatar." You look at the girl with furrowed brows. "She's...the avatar?" You tilt your head,how could she be the avatar? She looks fine or whatever,but you imagined her to be something... different?
"Of course I'm the avatar! Who else would it be?" She chuckles at your confused expression,Lin continues. "Yes,and you will show her around Republic city,and make sure nothing happens to her." Lin commands, staying strong in her uniform, a fierce look on her face (like usual dare I say).
Your brows remain furrowed, "Why would you trust me with this task?" Your arms now crossed, suspicious of her trust in you.
"The two of you are close to age,and since you're my daughter,I trust you make sure nothing happens to Korra." Her words take you by surprise,you nod, smiling you nod. "Nothing will happen to the Avatar in my presence,I promise." You feel so proud,she finally has something important for you to do.
"I don't need protection,I'm the avatar? remember?" Korra crosses her arms.
"And I'm the Chief in this town ,and if you want to walk freely in my town you will do so with my daughters protection." Lin narrows her eyes at Korra.
"I am more than capable of taking care of myself!" Her defiant nature amuses you.
"if you wish to remain in Republic City you will obey my rules. End of story." Your mother slams her hand on the table, clearly done with the girl's comments.
"Fine! Whatever." Korra ends up leaving the room, allowing you and your mother to be alone.
"This girl..." She sighs,sitting down on the couch facing the one you're on.
"Working with her will be a challenge." You joke, earning another sigh from your mother.
"You're a big girl,I know you're capable or I would have assigned you for her." You smile at her (sort of?) compliment.
"I'll do my best." Earns a nod from Lin.
You warmed up to her rather quickly,and the other way around. Turns out she's a pleasant company to be around.
For the next few weeks you spend time with Korra,even getting to know her better, sharing a few things about yourself.
Besides the fact that she's a little cocky (a little more) Korra is a great person to be around.
"So tell me! how was it being raised by Beifong? Is she always like that? Did she want you to take after her?" You smile at her curiosity, "Sometimes, but as a child she never implied I become a soldier,like her" the memories bringing a nice warmth in your chest.
"My mother would sometimes take me outside of Republic City, we would hike for hours to get to the most breath taking view I could see as a child." Korra watches your expression, she must admit,you're very pretty.She finds herself staring at you quite often,but she can't figure out why you're so captivating.
Once you lock eyes with her she forgets anything she wanted to say before,just staring at your face.
"Republic city is boring,I know a place you would like." You smile,taking her hand in yours, passing by many streets.
She looks at you confused as you tell her to hold on.
The earth beneath your feet started rising up,until you decided it was enough.
You started walking deeper and higher to a place only you knew.
"Where are we going (Name)?" She speaks between chuckles.
"You'll see,just trust me." You look back at her ,winking.
Her face is slightly warm to touch,Korra follows after you,passing by trees and going higher up a hill.
If she wasn't so busy watching your body instead of the place you were leading her too she would have noticed the view already.
"Were here!" Your voice brings her back,gaze moving away from your body ,now focusing on her surroundings.
Hands still entangled you stop , letting go of her hand. Her eyes fall on her now empty hand, slightly disappointed.
"Korra,look." She follows your voice, gaze falling on the breath taking view in front of her.
Your hand takes hers,leading her next to you on the grass.
"It's beautiful,isn't it?" She looks at you, analyzing your face ,reading its expressions like it's an open book for her to learn from.
"It is." Your eyes meet,locked on each other. Your hands entangled on the grass, the looks shared between the two of you speak like no words ever could.
She leans in,one hand now cups your cheek,her skin is so soft..
"Korra I..." You struggle to find the right words,mind clouded by the thought of her and only her. Fortunately there is no need for words,not now.
Her eyes scan your face for any kind of resistance,any kind of hesitance,but there's none in sight.
Her lips crash into yours in a soft ,loving kiss.
Korra's hands are cuping your cheek, while yours are around her waist. Fingers gently rubbing the material on her skin.
The kiss lasts a few seconds,but it feels like time stopped.
You move away from Korra's lips, smiling while looking at her bright blue eyes.
"I just kissed Beifong's daughter." You laugh softly at her words,placing a strand of hair behind her ear.
"The avatar kissed me." You grin,noticing her proud smile.
"And I'd do it again."
.
.
.
Took me a little to search for a plot ,but here it is. Hope you like it ;).
Depending on the attention this fic is getting,maybe I will make a part two.
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vesora · 9 months
Text
there is no past
ive been avoiding making posts because all the info u need is already posted but i saw making this post in a 'dream' so might as well
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so what exactly is the past? it is an event or experience that precedes the present time.
however if you have been in the loa community for long you may have realised that the only time that exists is now. i had mentioned this briefly in a previous post but i will expand.
the past and the future are concepts made up of thought and false identification. there is essentially no proof of your past existing except from in your mind. therefore how can we be extremely sure that the past actually exists and it's not something we made up?
there is no difference between an 'imagined' past and a past you think you experienced. they both exist in the mind. it is your false identification with an illusory past that makes you believe that what you see in the '3D' is real, when in fact if you choose your 'past' to be different, the '3D' will 'change' accordingly. this is why neville introduced the topic of revision. everything in this world is malleable. the only reason you see the world as solid is because you assume it's solid. if you believed it was liquid, then it would be liquid. there are no objective facts in this world, only what YOU as the creator deems to be true.
isn't this incredibly liberating? nothing from your past holds you back, because it doesn't exist except in your mind! and guess what? YOU are in control of your mind so you can have your desired past where you experience the things you want to and which reflect on the present day.
every moment is a moment you can start afresh. every new moment is a moment you are liberated from your subconscious habits. destroy what you do not want to experience and let it be destroyed. do not come back to it, it does not exist. maybe your ego wants you to revisit it and you become trapped in the clutches of your own mind and your reality becomes a prison, but how silly is that for a God? when you wish to paint, you gather acrylics or watercolours and buy some brushes but without the action of you painting, the canvas remains empty. it remains as it was before because you did not decide to paint. you just stared at the canvas just wishing, hoping, it would change. there is no such thing as 'inspired' action or any of that law of attraction BS. what i am talking about is the act of DECIDING and ACCEPTING that YOU are the painter and the world is your canvas.
don't fall into the trap of just reading posts and understanding it intellectually, apply it. there is literally nothing holding you back, NOTHING. the human body cannot manifest but YOU can. the habits, memories, and thoughts of the mind are illusory. YOU have the power to choose what you want to experience by consciously identifying yourself as the person you wish to be and identify yourself as the life you wish to live. there is no duality, you ARE it now.
although we have said it countless times, leave the world alone. it only listens to your command. it does not exist without you being aware of it, so why not choose to be aware of something you desire? why not choose to be aware of a different past?
there is nothing to do except realise that the human body-mind is illusory. it cannot hold you back. it cannot MAKE you experience something you, as the creator, do not want to.
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be free! you are in control. there is nothing outside of you. all is happening within you. you have an abundance of joy and resources within you, access it. live a life you deserve. take life easy. have fun with the human experience. be your own anchor and be grounded in your own power as god.
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ambermotta · 4 months
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Protection Magic: Some Important Concepts
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Long post based on my experience and research. Meant to be informative. I don't claim to know the absolute truth.
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Protection magic is any type of work meant to protect A from B, and there are many ways that this can be done: prayers, charms, talismans, tokens, casting circles, setting up wards, visualization. The list can go on and on because it can be done in many different ways and combining many different methods.
But methods are not the topic of this post today. No, today I would like to talk about some key concepts to keep in mind before getting started on making protections and keeping them effective.
The Importance of Cleansing
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Before doing any protection work I like to do a cleansing. Imagine you have an open water bottle, and because it was open, a lot of dirt has found its way into it over time. You decide to seal the bottle so no dirt comes in, but you don't pour out the old water, so you end up sealing it in. Yes, you'll keep more dirt from coming in, but the muck is still there.
It is easier to see this being applied to a physical location, but I personally also apply this to personal protective tokens. I feel they work better when you are taking care of your energies by doing regular cleanses and managing internal negativity.
Important Definitions
Protection ≠ Banishing ≠ Cleansing
I feel a lot of people are under the impression that these are all the same. I think they all work together towards a similar goal, but their jobs are different.
Protection: protecting something from something
Banishing: driving out entities
Cleansing: clearing out energy
You can do cleansing, banishing, and protection at the same time, but that doesn't mean they are the same. You can do a ritual including all of them, but you can also just do a cleansing or just do warding (which is a form of protection).
Note: cleansing is not restricted to “negative energy”. You can cleanse any kind of energy. Exemple: a friend of yours decides tarot is not for them and hands down their deck to you. If you wanna work with that deck it is highly advisable that you do a thorough cleansing of it and then infuse it/consecrate it with the energies you want. It's not that your friend has “bad” energy, it's just that you might not want to work with the same energies they have, or use a tool that has someone else's energy in it.
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Not Necessarily a Lazy Job
One important thing with protection magic is that no matter how strong or how successful are at doing it is that it is not failproof. I have yet to see protection work that lasts forever, and there may be a few reasons for it.
Negativity also comes from within
Imagine you have a fish inside an open fish tank. Just like the bottle example earlier, you decide to put a lid on so you prevent leaves from falling into the tank and polluting the water. However, there's a fish, a living being in there, and it produces waste. It is impossible for the fish to live without producing waste. If you don’t regularly clean the water, ammonia and fecal matter will build up.
In this analogy, you are the fish. I am the fish. Humans literally cannot live without ever having a negative thought or feeling, it is part of our existence and we have to live with it. No one lives in constant bliss.
That doesn't mean we have to live in the muck though. That's why cleansing yourself is important.
No one is immune to the environment
Here I have another analogy for you. Imagine you're facing a harsh winter, but you are safe in the security and warmth of your house. Your house is protected from the cold so you don't even mind it. However, you have to go outside. You dress up, go out and you feel very, very cold. You could perhaps wear something warmer, but it will never feel the same as home. Yet it is better than going outside naked, no?
Same thing for energies. You can have protection, but depending on how strong the energy in the environment is you are sure to feel it to at least some degree. However it's best to have some protection than no protection at all.
And there is a difference between Feeling an energy and dwelling in it vs Feeling an energy and not letting it latch onto you.
Energy can wear off, and new energy can build up
Energy is ever changing, ever moving. If you do a strong protection spell once, it can last for a long while, but if you forget about it it will likely lose a lot of its strength over time. Some of what you put out there might wear off and be substituted by something else. The energy can also grow stale, which means it becomes less effective.
But if you do a strong spell every month you will not only make your protections stronger, but also constantly renew the energies and not let them stagnate.
So keep doing cleanses and every now and then give a boost to your protections so they are refreshed and recharged.
Note on "Negative Energy"
One of the main reasons someone might choose to do a protection ritual and a cleansing is to ward off negative energy. But is that really needed? What is "negative energy"?
Negative energy might feel like a sense of heaviness, dread, pain, sadness, feeling ill, angry, sad or anxious. Emotions produce and attract what we can call "negative energy", the same way it can make us feel those things.
And while I personally think nobody wants to feel them, we must understand they are not always bad at their core.
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The uncomfortable feelings they can cause may also be a gateway for healing and transformation. Pain tells us there is something that needs to be worked on, that needs change.
If you are feeling negative, ask yourself why. Why does this bother me? What makes me feel this way? What can I learn from this pain?
If you happen to feel negative energy, it is good to cleanse and protect. But I advise you to always look for the source to see what can be done about it or what you can learn from it. Don't just try to use spellcasting to run away from your shit. Own your shit. Deal with it.
Otherwise, it will keep coming back no matter how much protection you have.
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Conclusion
It is impossible to always be free from “negative energy” all the time, no matter how strong your protections are. But protections can absorb some of the blows that you would otherwise take and ease the ones you were going to take no matter what.
Protection magic alone will not solve all your problems. It is a great tool to help you keep your center and remain grounded, but it is not usually something you do once and forget. It is a continuous, ever evolving work, meant to be used in conjunction with other types of spellwork.
And most importantly, it can give you some comfort through the many trials of life.
Thank you for reading, and good luck on your path! ♡
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islandofsages · 2 months
Note
hello!! I was hoping I could request gn!reader (aka Yuu) who loves dancing (and is actually really good at it, preferably something like contemporary dancing?) but hasn't told anyone in nrc. basically, the boys' reaction to stumbling upon them dancing one day!!
(requesting for cater, lilia, riddle, jamil, malleus, rook and vil!!)
thank youuuu <3
characters: riddle, cater, jamil, vil, rook, malleus and lilia x gn!yuu
tags: relationship not specified, fluff, imagines format; grim mention in riddle's, cater's, malleus' and lilia's. vil mention in cater's. kalim mention in jamil's. vil's is set in book 5
warnings: use of the word "dear" as a term of endearment in lilia's part
author's notes: i tried making them stumble yuu in different places so if they seem random thats why lol also i almost forgot about the "hasn't told anyone at nrc" part i get so carried away sometimes help 😭
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Riddle Rosehearts
He has a deep appreciation for dancing and consequently, he respects anyone who is a connoisseur of the art
He would tell you everything he knows about the art and comes to you to inform you on any new things he learns about it
You would tell him that you’re a dancer yourself, especially contemporary dance; the freeing nature of your favorite form has proven to be an effective way to relieve stress and express yourself
…But you’re a bit too shy to admit that to someone as amazing as Riddle - so fate takes the matter into its own hands
You were dancing in Ramshackle’s lounge, all by yourself since Grim is napping, a luxury you don’t get to afford too often
You simply felt like it; you put on some music and suddenly your body grows a mind of its own
You were so absorbed in your performance that you didn’t manage to hear knocks rapping on your door, let alone the sound of footsteps leading up to it
Sensing no answer from you and immediately growing worried, whoever was at the door bursted in to search for you… only to be met with a you in the middle of a dance move
It takes you a few seconds to notice him standing there in awe of your movements. When you do, you instantly ran over to the source of your music and switched it off in embarrassment
He asked you why you did that and would love for you to continue dancing but you only shook your head and tell him you weren’t fully ready to show off your moves yet and that you were simply going with the flow
“I mean, that’s kinda the whole point of contemporary dancing, just going with the flow? But still, I need to choreograph some parts of it to actually look like a form of dance.”
He chuckles at your response and doesn’t push you to resume if you feel uncomfortable. You thank him for respecting your boundaries
Though everything between you goes smoothly after the incident, you’ll never forget the look on his face when he laid his eyes on: the pure wonder in his eyes told everything you needed to know.
Cater Diamond
He thinks dancing is super cool and he sometimes try to demonstrate that - and in your opinion, he’s not half-bad at it despite what Vil would say
You would show off your own moves but you don’t wanna kill his vibes, even if he’d think you’re super good at it
But one day you’ll tell him how much you love contemporary dance and the fact that it can convey every human emotion and experience; and then that day comes, though very unexpectedly you would say
It was late in the evening; the school hallways are mostly empty, save for you and Grim casually having a conversation while walking your way back to your dorm
But one glance outside gives you all the inspiration you need for an impromptu dance session - the sky is bleeding orange, blazing yellow bandaging it
Your movements shift. You are now a tribute to the sunset. Grim stands aside and watches you with a sigh but he holds back his witty comments for after you’re done with your performance
Little did you know you have another person in your audience - Cater also had late evening classes and only now he’s heading back to Heartslabyul
At least, that was his initial plan. Seeing you dancing in the hallway caught him off guard, firstly because who in their right mind would dance in the hallways but secondly (and mainly), the way you move enchanted him
Could it even be called moving? Your limbs bend and flex so smoothly that he thought they turned into water somehow
By the time you’re done, you’re given a standing ovation by both of your spectators - one of whose you jump at in shock
“Yuu, that was like, crazy good! Are you secretly some pro dancer or something?”
You blush a little at the fact that he saw you and at the compliment; after that event, it’s impossible to hide anything from him so you simply tell him everything you know
You’d give him pointers and you’re happy to see his improvement from day to day but most importantly, his shining, genuine smile is something you wouldn’t miss for the world.
Jamil Viper
You know he’s very passionate about dance and you truly admire his skill for it
Although he’d be the perfect dance partner, you feel a little self-conscious sharing your own passion for dancing with him
He seems to sparkle when he shows off his skills and you think you lack that type of shine to your own - he begs to differ though, you’ve come to learn
The two of you were hanging out in his room, music pouring out from his stereo and you drowning in it, your limbs spread out on the floor
Then your room is shaken by some unknown noise, though you can assume it’s Kalim-induced, to which Jamil sighed and excused himself to go check out and possibly fix up
You lay there on your own then, nodding your head to the music, until a song you liked dominates the speakers, taking you by surprise
You don’t know what happened but as soon as the first note hit, you’re on your feet and your body was swaying side to side
Losing your mind and body to the music felt good, but then Jamil entered the room when you were mid-dance. You would’ve stopped if it weren’t for him joining in, but not without a taunt
“What, too scared to dance with me? Come and show me what you’ve got, Yuu.”
You accepted his challenge and continued where you left off - the two of you twisted and turned and ended up on the floor lying on your backs once again, gasping for breath
The two of you laughed breathlessly. He then praised you and your dancing abilities and wondered why you never showed him how skilled you are
You shrugged, thinking it wasn’t a big deal, but then he put a hand on your shoulder and offered to have more dance-offs. You didn’t hesitate to agree
When dancing with him, it feels like the most natural thing in the world, as if you were born to do this. And maybe, just maybe, you were born to meet such a wonderful person too.
Vil Schoenheit
You were a bit let down when you couldn’t actually participate as a dancer for the VDC but at the very least it allowed you to give yourself a bit more time to truly showcase your dancing to others
And hosting a training camp for the actual competitors isn’t too bad if it’s for your dorm and for something you’re passionate about
Ramshackle Dorm is lively, what with everyone there. Conflict was inevitable in this school but it did drive you crazy somewhat
One particular day, everyone was taking a break from Vil’s scrutinous training and you can feel the tension in the air
At some point, everyone left the ballroom. Only you remained seated on the floor, your back to the wall. You stared up at the ceiling and sighed. You couldn’t take this anymore
You got to your feet and simply started dancing, as quietly as you could. No music, nothing - you didn’t want to risk garnering attention by being noisy
It definitely served to alleviate some of your stress. You even smiled to yourself and at some points, fought the urge to laugh out of joy
The ballroom seemed different then. The images of your friends came into your mind - all their smiles, their frowns, the determined looks on their faces. You felt your movements growing more fluid at the thought of them
Once you’re done and panting, bent over your knees gasping for air, a loud clap reverberates in the room. Then another. Then a third. Then a figure emerges, their hands clasped
“What a pleasant surprise. You’re not bad at all. Though it’s a bit too late to recruit you, I surely hope you continue to hone that skill of yours.”
Did… did Vil Schoenheit just praise your dancing skills?
Let’s just say you took his advice to heart - it’s hard not to when it’s Vil Schoenheit himself
You also helped the others with some of your advice after the confidence boost and you’re happy to see their improvement. Seeing Vil satisfied also brought a smile to your face.
Rook Hunt
After the VDC, you found yourself more exhausted than usual by the events that occurred and you begged for a break from whatever deity is there in Twisted Wonderland. Dancing was the last thing on your mind
And for a while, that’s what you got - you were able to simply attend classes and watch your friends bicker with each other like a normal student. It was a well-needed break for everyone
Sometimes you’d chat for a bit with any familiar faces you run into and these days, you found yourself chilling by yourself in the courtyard
One day, you suddenly felt a longing to dance once more. And luckily for you, you had the courtyard all to yourself
It went from being some regular courtyard to your stage and the sun was your spotlight; you shone and you twinkled. You were like a star
And that was what you were told by the end of your performance, accompanied by applause from a singular person
“Très bien, Yuu… your performance has moved me to tears!”
Rook exclaims as he makes his way over to you; that certainly wasn’t your intention. You didn’t even think it was worth watching
But then Rook continues to comment on certain aspects of your performance, elaborating in very vivid detail. You’ve never felt so seen before
He would shower you with compliments, as if to say that you shouldn’t have a single doubt in your mind
And you hardly ever do after that since he very much threatened you to be kind to yourself or else
He would tell everyone about your wonderful skill (with your consent, of course), as if you’re his child who he’s been watching grow up over the years
He may be a bit loud about you at times but when you look over at him and see how proud he is of you, you only sigh fondly and hold back a chuckle.
Malleus Draconia
He doesn’t know a lot about the subject but he appreciates it as a form of art and expression of the people
And so you would tell him all about it while being careful to not let on that you’re one yourself which is surprisingly easier than you thought, considering how oblivious he is sometimes
He merely sees you as some sort of dance scholar and as if he doesn’t respect you a lot already, he definitely holds you in higher regard now
And somehow, that elevates to an even higher level when he suddenly finds you out
He was on his routinely walk around Ramshackle; it was a windy night, weather as pleasant as his conversations with you
Coincidentally, whilst his thoughts were on you, he spotted you in the backyard of your dorm with the ghosts and… hm? It’s brightly lit for once
Curious and wanting confirmation, he changed his route to suspiciously festive-looking Ramshackle instead
Meanwhile, you and Grim were dancing to some music the ghosts were playing for you. You all were having a simple party to forget your worries
The ghosts would comment on how you should stop outshining Grim so much, just to mess with Grim. But they had a point; you had a certain glimmer to you when you dance
Malleus saw that much when he reached your party. He stood within the frame of the backdoor, watching your every movement, entranced
After a few minutes did you notice him there, unmoving. Your steps trace their way to him instead. You extend a hand to him
“May I have this dance?”
And you may - the two of you danced, him slipping in flatteries in between moves. Maybe it was just you, but the party seemed to feel much more lively with him. No, not just the party; the whole world was.
Lilia Vanrouge
He knows a thing or two about dancing from all his adventures and he’d love to show you proof of it
So he does - he's definitely got the moves and you definitely want to show him some of your own… someday
You feel a little self-conscious about your own skills after his show but that doesn't stop you from working on your dancing. You're determined to make your skills worthy of Lilia’s attention!
Little did you know. It's futile to really hide anything from this sneaky bastard (affectionate)
You were on your way to class from Ramshackle with Grim and unfortunately for you, you had a little earworm stuck in your head that day
It started off as a skip, then two skips. By five skips, it turned into a full on dance. You felt alive, like you were a main character in a musical
Grim was making fun of you at first but then he started linking his arm with lampposts and swinging himself alongside you
Lilia was watching this all happen from afar, as one does. A student dancing their way to class is no everyday spectacle after all. And it's you too! All the more reason to play peeping tom
Just when you're about to reach the main building did he finally give you the jumpscare of a lifetime
“Why, you didn’t tell me what a wonderful dancer you are, my dear Yuu! I must admit, I feel quite offended.”
He was jesting of course - he was merely glad that he got to witness such a sight. And you’re glad that you’re not as unskilled as you thought you were
He tries his best not to boast your skills to others but you know he can never keep such hidden talent, well, hidden from his beloved Diasomnia family
You got the Diasomnia stamp of approval - not only that, but you’ve definitely impressed someone you hold dear.
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p1utofairy · 4 months
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PICK A CARD
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“kissin’ and hope they caught us.”
what will a night out with your future partner be like?
disclaimer ✩: 18+ mature themes. take what resonates, leave what doesn't. this is my early thanksgiving gift to y’all 💗 i’m so thankful for the constant support and feedback idk how many times i can say it lol but thank you. enjoy and have a great holiday!
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PILE i.
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i can see you two in a club/party setting. the music is so loud it's pulsing through your veins, it's not usually your scene, but your person is right by your side holding you close. their hand is resting slightly on your back/waist guiding you through the crowd — i feel like they'll smell really good too they have a distinct fragrance on that's comforting to you. i feel like you'll be so giddy and excited to be outside with them and be seen together. lots of heads will turn for sure. i feel like y'all are a power couple…like looking at you two walking in together just makes sense but it also triggers jealousy and disbelief in other people? you and your person may come from different backgrounds or have different aesthetics but y’all pair together very well. they’re gonna be looking so smug lollll your person is the silent but confident type, like having you on their arm will shut everybody up and they’ll love it. this person could be very popular or well-known in their profession…i'm getting a serena van der woodsen type of vibe so people can definitely be infatuated with them. you might not even like dancing but you will with them! you're gonna be on cloud 9 the whole night, pile 1. some of you might not smoke or drink but you’ll feel high/drunk off them the entire night it’s so cute! u are my high by dj snake and future vibes for sure.
PILE ii.
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the atmosphere is sensual af, pile 2. it's giving the vibe of a private dinner at an upscale restaurant/bar or hotel. your person planned this out very meticulously, and they managed to pull it off without you knowing too many details. you’ll be so happy to be sitting across from them and enjoying their company — i feel like you both don't always have the time to just sit and unwind because you both have very demanding jobs/schedules. i see you two flirting a lot with your eyes and smiling so big…the energy is very warm and playful. the sexual tension will be very thick between the two of you lol they might make comments throughout the night about how good you look. the lighting seems very dim and red seems to be the major theme so you could be wearing a red dress, they might give you a bouquet of red roses, their shirt might be red — idk it's something along those lines lol the color red is just significant for some reason. the food, their company, and the ambiance will be 100000/10 and the night won't stop there 😮‍💨 cause when they get you back home? soon as i get home by faith evans just came to mind LOL yeah they’re going to want to make up for lost time and please you in any and every way that they can. OKAYYY PILE 222.
PILE iii.
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ah this is my introverted pile! i don't think you get out much, pile 3. if you do it's usually because someone begged you to come out and socialize or you pushed yourself to go. you like having your own space and privacy, and sometimes it's a bit overwhelming having to constantly socialize and be around a whole bunch of people that may not mesh with you. i think that your person will be receptive to this, and will take baby steps to get you out of your shell. they’d take you somewhere where you can relax and be comfortable like a drive-in movie theater or maybe somewhere in nature…it's somewhere you both can be alone and in your own bubble tuning out the rest of the world. i can see them holding you close and you’re leaned back against them just so content and reveling in the precious moment. it’s a night you’ll never forget because you’ll realize just how much they mean to you, and how far you’ve come in this connection. it's reminding me of that picture of ariana grande and mac miller at coachella. so so cute.
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PILE IV.
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y'all are that cute couple that ride for each other, okay!!! y'all will be so in loveeeeeee my GOSH the passion and desire will be so heavy and evident between you two. lana and asap rocky in the ‘national anthem’ music video vibes — it's like that bad boy meets good girl trope. i feel like this person would want to take you places you’ve never been before…they’d want to get all dressed up in fancy clothes and go out on the town with you. there'd be multiple activities in one night. omg they're so spontaneous it'd feel never-ending! you two will be so giddy around each other lol always cracking jokes and laughing about any and everything. i don’t think that it matters where they take you per se, pile 4. you will have the time of your life regardless. they just know how to light up every room that they walk in and ensure that everyone is having a good time! it's so cute and refreshing, ugh. they're going to really sweep you off your feet. they might have a really nice car and you’ll love being a ✨passenger princess✨ LMFAO they might tease you about it too. this person will be your best friend just as much as they are your true love.
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citrustan · 5 months
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for what it's worth [3/4] (jjk)
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pairing: jeon jungkook x reader
genre: angst, fluff, light smut, college student!reader x crush!jungkook
summary: you make an awful revelation about your crush of two years.
word count: 3.8k
warnings: some bitchiness (or like justice? idk it's up to you really)
note: yes. there is a chapter 4 because i'm not ready to let go of this just yet. and a thank you.
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1 - 2 - 3 - 4
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Two weeks passed by and you and Jia pretended as if absolutely nothing happened. It was simply the quiet before the storm.
Your days seemed to blend into nights, you felt yourself slipping into a bad place mentally. Always feeling distant and fatigued.
The emotional turmoil of having your trust broken and your privacy invaded caused you to miss out on much needed sleep.
While on the outside, everything seemed pretty much the usual except for a few painfully obvious differences.
You had stopped (publicly) obsessing over Jungkook, and it initially invited a lot of concern from Yoongi and Namjoon. But they didn’t push you too much when you blatantly ignored their questions about him. You also avoided Jia as much as you could. She didn’t seem to have noticed.
Despite your crush on Jungkook, you had come to accept the boundaries of your non-friendship with him and the fact that he was deeply committed to Jia.
You had no intention of causing any harm to their relationship, as you had already shared your support with Jungkook for their secret.
It was difficult to not think of them. It often made you break into tears of anger and frustration. You had to mourn your loss.
Every night, thoughts of Jungkook would continue to consume you. You’d still imagine him to be yours. Images of him smiling at you and his voice calling you cute would linger in your mind.
It’s just pretend. There’s no harm in it.
You knew that Jia had described you as a ‘creep’ to Jungkook, but the label bothered you. You were not a creep, and you wanted to understand why Jia had portrayed you that way. No matter what you came up with in your head, nothing was a good enough reason to call you such a gross name. Sure, she hadn’t revealed to Jungkook your identity but that baffled you more.
Also, had Jungkook never wondered about this ‘creep’?
Too many things kept you up at night and you couldn’t stand being on the other side of the truth. You could no longer afford to let these things bother you. You were too fucking old for this shit.
With the final week before your course evaluations being right around the corner, you had subconsciously come to some harsh unanimous decisions. They weren’t impulsive or unreasonable. You really had thought this through. These decisions may be a risky, or bitchy, or just as sneaky as Jia was, but they’d still be within reason.
He needed to know the truth about you, Jia, and what she told him.
You wanted to tell Jia that you knew about them. It probably wasn’t going to come out of Jungkook, so it had to be you.
Why must you continue to suffer?
You didn’t want to wait around and anticipate Jia’s next move.
You’re not the type of person who sits around and ignores things like these. You had held it in for a while now.
You understood that your actions would have consequences and you were more than ready to face them. You hoped.
While you pretended nothing ever happened, Jia and you saw way less of each other.
You could count the times you interacted, or even passed by, or saw each other over the weeks on one hand.
Still, every time you’d think about your interaction with Jungkook, you were reminded of Jia too. Him and Jia. You couldn't help but notice his annoyingly deep feelings for Jia. He was so… considerate of her. It probably is just the bare minimum but it doesn’t matter. You could tell he was a great boyfriend to her. No wonder she kept him hidden.
Sometimes, it felt so wrong and scandalous to fantasize about the man. Maybe it even is so. But you weren’t just infatuated with Jungkook. You really liked him. Emotions like these don’t disappear overnight.
You longed to be loved and held by him too.
The campus shuttle came to an abrupt halt, indicating that it was the last stop. You had missed yours.
*
As the semester continued, Jungkook found himself missing the moments he had shared with you before everything became so complicated. Jia completely stopped mentioning you. Whenever he’d ask, she’d pout and demand his attention to be back on her. While he’d give into her, you still remained in the back of his mind.
It was late in the evening, and Jungkook had decided to take a break from his hectic study schedule, opting to go for a walk around his dorm on campus.
As he neared the drop-off point for the shuttle, he couldn't help but think about you, remembering the first time you had met at a bus stand.
He stood there, lost in thought, when he suddenly saw a figure leaning against the street light.
An involuntary smile crossed his face as he couldn't believe the coincidence.
"_____, is that you?" Jungkook called out, waving to get your attention. He jogs to where you now stood upright.
You turned towards him, your eyes widening in surprise as you recognized him. "Jungkook? What are you doing here?"
He chuckled and motioned to the bus station. "Well, it seems like the bus stands are our special spot. I thought I'd take a break and enjoy the nostalgia."
You let out a mix of a sigh and an awkward laugh, feeling a mixture of nostalgia and uncertainty. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"
Jungkook nodded, and he noticed the hesitation in your eyes. "Would you like to grab some dinner? We can catch up?"
You were caught off-guard.
"Right now? It's not late enough for dinner." You attempt to find an excuse.
"Sure it is. There's a new Chinese fusion restaurant right off the road outside." Jungkook urged.
"Fusion? What is it fused with?" You wondered.
Jungkook paused. "I... Actually don't know. Want to find out?" He smiled, invitingly.
Not used to the attention he was giving you just now, you found it difficult to tell him 'no'.
Especially when you really wanted to 'catch up' with him.
So, you reluctantly agreed, and the two of you were headed to the nearby restaurant.
Jungkook smiled back at you as he led the way, "Do you want me to hold your hand? It looks heavy."
WHAT?
Your mouth slightly parted open.
Oh, my god? What was his deal?
You're malfunctioning.
"No. I'd rather not..." You hesitantly refuse. Jungkook slows down to let to catch up to him. "Are you sure? You look like you've been carrying that around for a while. And, I really wouldn't mind it."
More confused than ever, "Well, it is attached to me. I'm okay."
"Well, un-attach it! I'll hold it for you." Jungkook's hands graze your shoulder.
Your brows furrow. Finally, you just ask him. "What?"
"Let me hold your bag. Unbuckle, un-attach, relax." Jungkook blabbered as he switched positions to walk behind you, gently taking your backpack off your shoulders.
Oh.
Oh, no. Did you really think he was asking to hold your hand? Really now?
You big dummy with a capital 'D'.
You sigh. "Okay. Thanks, but let me just-" You cut yourself off by unzipping your backpack and pulling out a white sweater with pearls for buttons.
The two of you pause mid-way so you can comfortably wear your sweater. The temperature was dropping my the hour.
Although you don't have your matching mittens and earmuffs, it should be fine.
"That's pretty, _____." Jungkook complimented you.
"Where'd you get that?" He asked, thinking about how much Jia would like this kind of clothing.
You shyly blush and look down at your glossy, red pointed toe heels, "Thanks. I made it myself with the yarn my mother spun for me."
Jungkook looked genuinely impressed. "No way. That's got to be worth a lot then."
You stared up at him with big eyes. Nobody had ever said such sweet things to you.
(That's a lie. Your other friends have always praised your clothes and outfits. But this is different, so it's ok!)
You wordlessly, softly smile at him. Jungkook stares back at you.
Suddenly, his expression changes. His eyes grow big and his mouth forms a smile, "Ah! Could I commission you to make something just like that for Jia? She loves stuff like that!"
And just like that, your heart shattered. Again.
Your kind smile turned into a forced one. "Maybe if I have time."
You noted that he didn't demand or suggest you to make a sweater for Jia, but rather requested it and offered to compensate for it. That just tells you more about how considerate and present he is.
Every time you've talked to people about your handmade clothes, they'd beg you to make them one or jokingly ask about it so that if you do end up making something for them, they wouldn't have to pay you for your efforts. This doesn't include your friends, obviously. And, even if your friends were to act this way, you'd gladly gift them your handiwork.
Well, even though he's somewhat of a stranger to you, if Jungkook ever asked you for something, you'd probably just do it for him too. No questions asked.
Jungkook asked you about your day and your classes. And, you him.
As you were walking on the snow covered sidewalk, you mentally cuss yourself out for picking these shoes. Not only were your feet partially frozen and numb, but also you were ruining very expensive shoes.
"Oh! Puddle, watch out." Jungkook swiftly skipped over a puddle of water that horizontally covered a significant portion of the walkway from one end to the other.
You watched him regain his footing and turn back to you.
Does he expect you to leap like that? Your legs aren't as long as his! But, you don't gave a choice.
You can't step in it, it could very well be a hole of icy water. That'd be risking a potential amputation.
You can't walk around it because there's nowhere to go. And, you can't switch to walking on the road because, well it's dangerous, and there's a metal partition placed specifically to avoid mixing people on wheels and people on foot.
Jungkook puts his hand out for you to grab.
"Just put one foot out to this side and I'll pull you up. Don't worry! I've always done this with Jia." He mentions Jia, hoping to reassure you that he wouldn't let you slip.
All it does is make you more uneasy. Just the thought of Jia. It has an odd effect on you. Your body feels colder. You shudder briefly.
Your only goal now is to get past this stupid puddle without humiliating yourself. You realize that delaying this makes you look more cowardly, hence humiliating you.
So, you grab hold of Jungkook's surprisingly warm hand. Not going to lie, you faked some uncertainty just so you could keep holding his hand.
Someone has got to get you in check.
Jungkook urged you to trust him yet again. His stance showed he was prepared to pull you through.
You lift your left foot and somehow land it on the other side of the puddle. Not even a second after, Jungkook roughly pulls you to him with all his strength.
Not expecting this amount of force, you clumsily collide into his chest, immediately wrapping your arms around his torso to avoid falling back into the very puddle you were trying to get across from.
Jungkook reciprocates by circling his arms around your shoulders and head.
How you wished he held you elsewhere, but he was so respectful.
Everything happened so quickly.
Embarrassed, your breath hitched and you suddenly pushed him to the side.
"Sorry." You whisper. You don't know if he could even hear you.
You fix your sweater and continue staring at your feet, eyeing the little droplets of water on your pants.
Your tummy and nether regions were blazing fire and you felt your nipples slowly hardening. You clench your hands into fists, desperately praying nothing is visible. I mean, you were wearing white.
You wanted so badly for Jungkook to reach out, just stick his hand up your top and soothe your pretty, sensitive nips. Your breathing has become unstable for a few seconds.
You should be beaten up for having these thoughts about a taken man.
Jungkook suddenly places his hand on your arm, making you jolt. "We're close. Look, it's there." He smiles and points to the establishment.
"Great. I'm so cold." You try to play it off, just in case he noticed something.
You then cover your chest by flipping your hair back over it.
This time, he let you walk ahead of him.
On reaching the restaurant, Jungkook skipped ahead of you and pulled the door open for you. "After you." He smiled, goofily.
You blush and instantly shake it off, "Why, thank you. My fragile hands could never."
Jungkook and you were immediately hit by the warmth and coziness of the home style, Chinese fusion restaurant.
"Huh. This is not at all what I expected." Jungkook looked around, pleased with himself.
You replicated that action.
The restaurant was designed to replicate someone's home, or garage. It had unique tables and chairs. No two items were the same. Even most of cutlery was different.
You appreciated the dedication to this concept.
"Good evening! Table for two?" A very familiar voice interrupted you.
Your head abruptly turned towards the direction of the voice.
"Joon!" You exclaimed, rushing over to throwing yourself into his personal space.
Surprised by your sudden enthusiasm, Jungkook raised a brow. This was the most chipper he'd ever seen you.
Jungkook and Namjoon knew each other.
Other than from your constant yapping, Namjoon knew of Jungkook because Jungkook was actively trying to pursue Namjoon, pleading for him to be Jungkook's musical mentor. However, Namjoon wouldn't budge.
Namjoon instantaneously engulfs your whole body with his arms, rubbing your back.
When Namjoon clearly looked at the man stood behind you, his eyes widened.
No way.
Is this why you went off-grid? Had you finally managed to bag Jeon Jungkook? Namjoon was too stunned to move.
Namjoon was just about to ask you about it when Jungkook speaks instead. "Table for two is right. Thanks."
You let go off Namjoon, confirming Jungkook's words.
Whatever. Namjoon will be blowing your phone up later either way. So, he decided to let you off the hook for the rest of the evening.
Namjoon cheekily smiles at the two of you as he leads you into an isolated booth.
It was a space behind some beaded curtains, giving the illusion of the space being more private.
The table was relatively smaller and surrounding it were three chairs; two regular wooden ones with soft cushions, and one loveseat.
Then, Namjoon abruptly left.
You didn't realize what Namjoon was doing until he returned with two menus and something that looked like a candle and a lighter.
Oh, no.
No. This was NOT happening.
You frown and awkwardly wait for him to set the table up and leave.
What? There's nothing you can do or say without overreacting! It's not like you WANT to wine and dine your friend's boyfriend.
(You totally do, but you would not pull something like that purposely.)
Jungkook seemed to just go with the flow, unbothered.
You promptly sat yourself on one of the wooden chairs and Jungkook opted to sit on the comfortable loveseat.
"So, how do you know Namjoon?" Jungkook wasted no time.
"We've been friends for a while." You continue, "Jia too. She knows him."
At that, Jungkook raises a brow. Jia knows Namjoon? Jungkook has mentioned Namjoon many times before. Jia never indicated that she knew him.
Still, he brushed it off.
"How do you know him?" You ask.
"Oh, he's like rhythm and poetry royalty. I've been sending this man emails for months begging him to mentor me... I can't believe Jia- It's so weird, finally seeing the guy who kept rejecting me." He cut himself off towards the end.
He can't believe Jia WHAT? Tell me. PLEASE.
You painstakingly push your annoyance away.
Instead you laugh, "I had no idea he was being pursued by students, wow."
"Yeah..." Jungkook giggled, somewhat embarrassed.
As the evening went on, you talked quite a bit. If he noticed, he didn't mind your awkwardness.
As if you were suddenly remembering something, you hummed. "I take it you didn't tell Jia about the... thing?" You struggled to find the right words to describe it.
Jungkook slowly nodded and repeated, "The... Thing."
"Yeah. You know, about you guys? Dating?" You press your legs together, a little anxious.
"Oh! Right!" He smiled in realization, "I actually did end up telling her about it that same night." He nodded, this time, positively.
You froze and your face dropped.
Had you been drinking something at that moment, you'd have spat that out. If you were eating at that moment, you'd have dropped your utensils on the floor.
"And then we talked about you for a while. I told her you gave me your word. I mean, I'm sure she already told you..." He continued.
Jia. She knows you know.
"Because she panicked..." Jungkook kept talking but at that point you had tuned him out.
Your mouth involuntarily formed a sad pout. Your eyes which were drying out from tiredness, slowly began to fill up with tears of... frustration, and anger, and confusion.
She knew.
She didn't even try to talk to you.
You assumed she was just busy.
But, she was actually just avoiding you. Just as you her.
Your eyes were glazed over.
The humiliation, guilt, anger and paranoia set in all at once.
Does this mean... Jungkook knows? Is he toying with you?
No. That's far-fetched. Way off. He'd never do that. He was so nice to you all night.
But, he IS a nice guy. Why wouldn't he be nice?
You're starting to make less sense now.
You don't even blink because if you do, your tears won't hold themselves back.
Jia fucking knew and avoided you on purpose. She couldn't face you. She fucking betray you, and she couldn't handle it. She didn't want to face it.
Jungkook sensed that there was something on your mind. "_____, is something wrong? Should I not have told her? What's going on?" He asked, his curiosity piqued.
You hesitated for a moment. You weren't used to being impulsive. That was never you. But, lately, that streak was becoming increasingly steady.
So, you decided to open up. Like an idiot.
"It's me."
Jungkook nervously smiled, "It's you?"
"The 'creep' with the schoolgirl crush." You added.
Jungkook's eyes widened in surprise, and he leaned in, his expression a mix of shock and curiosity. "You? But... I don't understand."
He shook his head and stared at you, expecting you to keep going.
Great job, idiot.
You didn't have a choice now.
You took a deep breath and began to explain, "I had a crush on you, Jungkook. I have a crush on you. I've never been silent about it." You winced.
The tears. They're coming.
"I mean, I've never been silent about it with my friends. Including Jia."
The knot forming in your throat felt tighter.
Jungkook listened carefully, trying to make sense of this... revelation. "So, it was all a misunderstanding? There was never a 'creep'?" He reasoned.
You kept your eyes trained down at your lap, more embarrassed than ever. "I... No? I don't know." Your eyes were heavy with tears. Your nose began to sting.
You pressed your lips together to hold all the ugly sobs in, and squeezed your eyes shut.
"_____?" Jungkook questioned worriedly.
You furrowed your brows and frantically shook your head, "Jia. Everyone, my friends, everyone knew about it- that I liked you. From the day we met. The- it was like a mixer?" You slouch and let your arms fall to your sides, "I can't remember. I've liked you for so long..." You trail off silently shedding tears.
You inhale before letting out a little squeaky apology.
Jungkook only looks at you. He doesn't understand, or register anything.
"_____..." Jungkook begins.
"I didn't know Jia was your girlfriend. I'd always talk to her about you, and how good you looked on whatever, whenever- and how you, and then she..." Your shoulders begin to shake towards the end of your sentence. You fully began to cry.
Thank goodness you were separated from the rest of the restaurant-goers.
You were clearly unable to hold a conversation.
You wanted to bang your head on the table. Repeatedly.
Jungkook's brows almost touched his hairline.
"I'M the 'creep' she told you about. I'm the reason for... But I didn't know. I SWEAR. Until you told me. I knew then." You sniffle every two seconds. "I was going to tell you how I felt but then you- I'm sorry!" You finally broke down, sobbing into your hands.
"Hey. Just... breathe, okay?" You felt Jungkook shimmy out of his seat and back away from the table. He then walks over to you.
You already knew tomorrow's _____ was going to kill herself.
Jungkook pours you a glass of water.
He has no idea what to tell you.
He can't find the words to even begin to describe what he's feeling right now.
Jungkook's brain had stopped generating new thoughts. All he's thinking about is the crying girl in front of him, half-heartedly confessing her feelings for him.
Frustrated, he ran his hands through his hair. Then he looked down at you.
You are whom his girlfriend was worried about?
The same girl whom he hadn't stopped thinking about the past weeks.
The same girl who's his girlfriend's friend. His girlfriend.
His girlfriend who lied- hid things from him.
Had you planned this? Was Jia right to hide him away?
Jungkook really doesn't know what to think.
Jungkook needed to leave. He felt suffocated.
"_____, I'm sorry for the way things turned out. I... wish I had known the truth earlier." Jungkook solemnly spoke.
He hoped you believed him. He can't tell if you're in the right frame of mind to talk. He knows he sure isn't.
You sniffle harder, still appreciating his understanding. "I honestly just wanted to clear the air and be honestly honest with you...." You sigh deeply, speaking shakily. "I just thought... Maybe Jia would talk to me herself. And when she didn't--- I'm sorry I made you uncomfortable."
Jungkook just stood by you, unmovingly. It was as if he himself was trying to figure out what to say.
After what felt like forever, you hesitantly lift your head up to look at Jungkook, "I understand if you'd want to leave now."
And you meant it. You couldn't force him to watch you cry like an idiot. So, you understandingly told him he had a free will, that he could walk away.
And he really did.
Jungkook stared down at your tear-stained face for a few seconds.
Then without uttering a single word, he slowly blinked at you and walked away.
Now, you stare at the back of his head, wide-eyed.
You didn't expect him to actually leave this instance.
I mean, he didn't owe you anything, but you still felt uneasy.
The rational part of you truly understood his choice. But the emotional part of you was destroyed.
Even though you have no right to feel this way, you're so disappointed. In him. In yourself. In Jia. You think that's well deserved though; your disappointment in Jia.
Did she hate you?
Nothing else mattered.
You don’t know it yet but the biggest burden had just been lifted off your shoulders.
(Until you face Jia. But, more on that later.)
And, as for Jia; Jia had enough time to come clean. This was not on you. It was all her.
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bettysupremacy · 2 months
Note
another request for finnick, just a lil bit of angst as him and her get into a fight and then they make up. angst and then some fluff
love letter to finnick. maybe this is like the before of this
It’s dark in the large bedroom you cave yourself in, and it seems even darker post argument.
Your eyes ache dully, even closed they beg to be soothed. You can’t believe the contents of the last hour, they play behind your eyelids as you pray for comfort. This is the worst. The worst. The watch sitting on your bedside table reads midnight when you pick it up gently.
“Fuck,” it’s cold in your hand, pulling you closer to the real world you’d tried desperately to escape with sleep.
At home in district four, you hear the waves of a homely sea outside your window. Finnick is out there, for sure, swimming in the seas he knows you don’t like him in after dark. Some of the things he said were hurtful, but he said them out of fear. Fear of what would happen to you, to the peace he’d created at the shoreline of district four.
It’s quiet until the creek of your door alerts you. It’s slow, obvious the person behind it wants you asleep, and you know it’s Finnick by the way his feet fall on the hardwood floor.
“Baby?” He whispers. The name feels good at a time like this. You hardly fight, and when you do, it isn’t even really an argument. More of a disagreement.
“Are you awake?”
You contemplate lying and the good that will come from it. Ultimately nothing, but you wait a second anyways, listening to the air in your room shuffle in his wake.
“I’m sorry.” He murmurs, voice cracking. You can hear him bring his hands up, rough palms pressing into his eyes, staving away the tears he knows bound to come.
You turn, hearing the crinkle of the crisp sheets as you face him. He flinches, he didn’t think you were awake.
“I’m sorry,” He says for a different reason now. “I thought you were asleep.”
“No,” You say quietly, for no reason other than a little shame. “can’t sleep alone.”
He steps closer daringly, pulling his shirt off before he crawls under your covers. His hair is wet and smells like salt. Any other day you’d fret over your clean sheets, but now you pull him closer, tangling your hands in his wet hair. You brush it away from his eyes, letting them roam over your face.
“We’ll be fine, Finnick.”
He lets out a strangled breath, burying into your chest. His shoulders shake miserably as he grasps you desperately.
“You heard Beetee,” You’re referencing the phone call you’d gotten after the announcement of the quarter quell. “he’s got a plan.”
You let him cry, never quieting the tears he wish he could quiet himself. It’s scary, definitely, and you can’t imagine how he feels going into the arena with you.
“It’s me and Mags.” You say definitively. “And I’m not letting her in that arena.”
He pulls up, glossy eyes terrified. “You can’t.”
She’s old, nearing the end he wants to say, but he knows it’s not right, he loves the woman.
“I’m not letting her in that arena,” you push slightly. “I can survive, see the plan through, but she’s old, Finnick, she can’t last the games again.”
He nods, defeated. “I’ll keep you safe.”
You say nothing, leaning in to kiss the corner of his mouth. Then, “I know.”
He chases the feeling of your lips, kissing you softly. “Me and you.”
“And Beetee, and wiress.”
“Me and you.” He repeats.
“And katniss, and Peeta.”
He laughs quietly, nosing at your cheek. “Stop it.”
“I’m sorry,” you preen. “Me and you.”
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saberlight1 · 3 months
Text
can’t help fallin’ in love — coriolanus snow
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pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader
warnings: slight tbosas spoilers, mentions of trauma, depression, standard ballad of songbirds and snakes warnings.
authors note: another one!! i am a goddamn writing machine these days lmao. i wanted to write something lovey dovey about my boy, i think i may have gone a lil overboard but this app is seriously lacking coryo fluff fics. i hope you enjoy soft coryo as much as i do! <3
masterlist
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Coriolanus sat with an emotionless look on his face as he sat on the rocky train that was taking him to his worst nightmare. He was being shipped off to District 12 for cheating to help you win the games. He didn’t regret that, he never would.
But this was not the ideal outcome he’d imagined.
At least he wouldn’t be completely alone— after all, he was going to your district. He just wished it was under different circumstances.
“You know, I thought I might find you here,” Sejanus’ words caused him to turn around immediately, breaking him from his thoughts. “Sitting all by yourself.” He teased, walking into the train cart Coriolanus was currently in.
“Sejanus, what’re you doing—” He stood up, his eyebrows knitted together in concern and annoyance.
“What do you think?” He cut him off with a scoff. “After what I did in the arena? My father had to buy me the Academy a brand new gym just so I could get my diploma.” He put his bag down. “He begged me to stay, but once I found out where they were sending you, I couldn’t get out fast enough.” He admitted with a sigh, moving to sit down. “Barely made the train ‘cause of this stupid knee, but it’s okay, they gave me some morphling for the pain.”
Coriolanus looked at him with judgment. “You volunteered for this?”
“I figured if I get through basic and then maybe I’d become a medic.” He beamed. “Maybe make a real difference out here… just like you said.” Sejanus’ gaze turned downward. “They never told us what you did,”
“I cheated.” He answered, shamelessly. “To save Y/N from the snakes.” Sejanus’ nodded slowly, understanding where his friend was coming from. After a beat of silence, Coriolanus’ tearful eyes met his. “Do you think they killed her?”
“Why would they risk it?” Sejanus questioned with furrowed brows. “She was a big hit, if there is a games next year, they’re probably gonna invite her to sing at the opening ceremony.” He joked with a smile.
Coriolanus didn’t laugh. “You know, when you came in, I was weighing the merits of suicide.” He half-joked, his smile not meeting his eyes.
“When we’re about to be free?” Sejanus shot back. “When the girl you risked everything for might be waiting for you at the end of this track?” At his words, Coriolanus’ throat ran dry, the tears returning to his eyes. The possibility that you might be waiting not even crossing his mind. Sejanus looked at him with a knowing glint in his eye. “My friend, don’t give them the satisfaction. Your life has just begun. You’re gonna do great— We’re both gonna do great.”
Sejanus’ words still rung in his ears, even if they were spoken all those months ago.
Even now, when you were delicately tucked under his arm, your head buried in his neck as you slept soundly. That conversation seemed to take home in his mind, never leaving.
You were, in-fact, waiting for him, and the moment you saw him you ran into his arms, and he cherished you every day from that moment. The pair of you spent as much time together as you could, and you loved every second of it. As did he.
You were like a star of brightness in his darkness— lighting up places he didn’t even know existed and granting them with your warmth. And now that you weren’t fighting for your life, he got to learn so much about you.
He learned about your quirks, your personality, your smile, all of it. You learned the same about him.
But nights like these where he couldn’t find sleep and was left up alone, the silence and ringing of the bugs outside consumed him, the man getting caught up in the ropes that was his thoughts.
He often didn’t believe he deserved you, that you were too pure for him. You were gifted to him by mistake, but he was too selfish to let you go.
And, God, you never wanted him too.
Coriolanus had a bad habit of not speaking his mind, and bottling his emotions until they bubbled over, everything coming out in one out burst of rage and sadness. You didn’t blame him, you never did. Instead, you picked him up from the floor and held him until he calmed down.
He had never experienced the type of love you gave him, and it scared the shit out of him. He didn’t know how to return it, he wasn’t good with kind of stuff. You taught him things everyday, though.
You snuggled deeper into his neck, his uneven breathing causing you, a light sleeper, to wake up. Or, according to your theories, you were so interlinked with Coryo that you could sense when he was overthinking.
You left a small patch of kisses on his throat, cracking your sleepy eyes open to confirm your suspicions— the boy was staring off into space, not a drop of sleep in his eyes.
“Coryo,” You whispered, leaning up to kiss his jaw softly. He turned at your acts, his eyes meeting yours as his previous frown was replaced with that lovey smile you adored. “Can’t sleep?”
He shook his head, temporarily pushing you off of him in order for him to turn on his side to properly look at you. Once he got situated, he pulled you back into his chest, a giggle leaving your lips.
Your fingers came up to knead through his messy platinum locks. “What’s on your mind, baby?”
His eyes fluttered closed for a moment. “Nothing.. it’s just, sometimes I think you may be too good for me.” He admitted slowly.
Your eyebrows shot up. “Coryo, if anything, you’re too good for me. Remember, honey, I’m ‘District Trash’.” You laughed, repeating the words Lucky Flickermen had said about you before wrapping your arms around his neck and leaving kisses all over his face. “You must be a fool if you can’t see how in love I am with you. You are more than good to me, I couldn’t imagine my life with anyone else.” You promised, continuing to leave kisses on your lover’s smiling face with every word you spoke.
His arms wrapped around your waist, hugging you closer to him. “I love you,” He whispered in your ear, beginning to leave his own kisses on your neck and jaw.
Butterflies creeped up your spine at his confession, a love-sick smile tugging on your lips as you leaned up to really kiss him.
His hands came up to cup your face as he slipped his tongue into your mouth, the kiss only being further fueled with your burning passion for each other. Your hands slipped back into his locks for purchase as the kiss grew more needy. You let out a whimper against his mouth when he began to kiss you harder, angling your body back to deepen it further.
He smirked against your lips at your noises, before pulling back for air. His thumb swiped back and forth across your cheekbone as you both stared at each other, love strong in the both of your eyes.
“I love you, Coryo.” You whispered back, before taking your spot back in his arms. “Get some sleep, my love.” You left another kiss on his throat, the boy hugging you somehow closer, leaving a kiss on your forehead.
“Thank you,” He softly spoke, leaning up to blow out the candle you had lit earlier.
“Always,”
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nvoirs · 1 year
Text
Disclaimers: Cowgirl, missionary, !F recieving, public sex basically, !F gets ate out.
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It had been almost a week since you and Leon had rescued Ashley from the psychotic cult, los illuminados, in rural Spain.
You both had made it back in one piece, even if you were both infected by the las plagas virus at some point during your journey through spain.
The president was absolutely delighted to know that the two of you had secured his daughter safely and brought her back home. In honour of doing so he had arranged a large fancy dinner party celebrating the both of yours accomplishments.
You were very appreciative you'll admit that but you weren't really a party person even if this was a formal one where of course everyone will behave.
Being a introverted person that kept to yourself you'd say you we're the complete opposite of Mr Kennedy here. He loved the attention, and his humour made people like him even more so.
Ever since he'd lent you his jacket back before you came home because it was super cold that night, you've been thinking about him. His jacket was still slung over your shoulders when he told you he could keep it. But you tried to protest, trying to explain to him that you had plenty of jackets to wear. He said he didn't want to hear it, and that it could also serve as a reminder of what you and him had been through. Thinking about that, you we're very sure that you did not want anything to remind you of that horrible place.
But it was leon. You'd admit you had feelings for him, and they had blossomed more during your mission in spain. You had no idea if he felt the same, because he flirts with everyone no different, just the same.
So when you had come to this supposed dinner party you had decided, you were going to wear his jacket and see if it elicited any reactions in him. You topped it on top of your dress that you wore, as you walked to your assigned sit next to him.
Leon's glance was indeed glued to you, or most likely his jacket. Oh, he did not expect that. It was kind of turning him on which wasn't a good sign being in public and all. His thoughts errupted his wants to stop this, and he imagined images of you underneath his figure. Wearing only his jacket, and getting absolutely wrecked by him.
"Please.. fuck me harder, i want it!" Your dreamself in leon's mind cried out.
leon however was snapped out of his refreshing dream of you when you excused yourself to use the restroom. Now was his chance. His chance to ask you privately if you felt the same as he did.
A few minutes after you had disappeared through the foyer trecking to the restroom. Leon also excused himself and decided to wait outside in the foyer for you.
When you came out from the restroom, you nearly tripped and fell from the shock you had from leon standing there.
"Fuck! Leon! What we're you doing?" You held your chest, hearing the thumping of your heart.
"I'm just stood here, what on earth do you mean?" Leon grinned, leaning his hand against the wall you stood you're ground on.
"I mean why are you here? Shouldn't you be entertaining the president or something?" You sighed pinching your nose, to be honest you were getting a little hot and bothered that he was so close to your face. The rapid beating of your little lovesick heart proved evidence for this.
"Yeah you're right I guess, but why're you wearing my jacket hm?" smirking, leon looked at your face that contorted in embarassment. Cute.
"Are you just being stupid or do you actually have amnesia? You told me to keep it" you shot back.
"That's right.. most people wouldn't wear it to a fancy place like this though.." he trailed of. He wanted to ask you, he wanted to ask you if you liked him. No, if you loved him.
"I'm just wearing it to cover my shoulders, c'mon leon stop being a douche and get back there" you gestured to the party down past the foyer.
"Kinda wanna see you in that jacket.. on it's own"
He finished looking into your eyes searching for any discomfort, anything that would make him put a stop to this all.
Your cheeks were dusted pink, you were flattered. You thought that maybe leon returned your passionate feeling towards him. You wanted to try something.
You yanked him by the belt forcefully, and collided your lips against his. He began to encourage the kiss. His right hand cupped your small face deepening the kiss, while his left slithered around your waist hugging it tightly.
Kisses in sync, it felt light and airy. But then it became something far darker and more lustful.
You pulled back, inhaling deeply. You'd done it, you kissed him first. You stared at him, but as your glance got lower you saw something quite.. humorous.
His hard on was streching against the fabric of his dress pants. You giggled, putting your hands on your hips.
"Oh? What's that there Mr Kennedy"
"Not quite sure myself, better fix it soon you brat" he looked at you with a venomous gaze.
Oh it's on. You grabbed leon by the arm making sure nobody saw the pair of you, entering the lavish restroom, probably the cleanest you'd ever seen, tugging him along to the very end stall which happened to be the most spacious, perfect for the lewd things you had planned.
"What are you-" you shushed leon, forcing him to sit on the ground, undoing his belt rapidly. You threw his belt to the ground, you could feel your panties becoming wet your clit ached for some contact.
"Strip." You commanded leon, pulling at his shirt.
"Sorry, but following a women's lead just isn't-" you sat directly on his lap, right on where he needed you most.
"Well this women isn't going to help you with your little problem then, is she?" You moved around slightly, causing leon to groan grabbing your hips to still you.
"Fuck, didn't know you'd be such a whore" leon pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it aside.
"Oh leon, I'm a lot more then that." Trailing your small hands across his broad back and chest. finding a precious spot on his neck you closed in and began to give him the love he deserved. You bit into his skin, sucking on it lightly swirling your tongue before pulling back.
The love bite stood out, telling all that he was yours and only yours. He moaned deeply, extremely turning you on.
"Fuck, I wanna touch you to baby" leon tugged at your dress. You admired the artwork of angry red hickeys you'd blossomed onto his rough skin.
"You wanna touch me hm?" You stood up, your hands squeezing his shoulders teasingly.
"Fuck yeah, sit on my face now." He demanded. It made you light hearted and giddy knowing that he was finally yours for the taking.
You hitched up your dress, brandishing the cute little thong you were wearing.
"You were wearing that this whole time? You knew this was gonna happen hm?" Leon smirked at your proud form.
"Well i wasn't entirely sure Kennedy, but i'm glad it worked out" sighing in relief once you slid of the thong, your wet as fuck pussy being exposed to the crisp air.
"C'mere" leon grabbed you by the butt, squeezing it in the process. He leaned against the wall, as you lowered your pussy onto his lovestruck face. You felt his nose poking you and you moaned, you started gyrating your hips against his pretty face. "Ohh leon yes!" You whined, but gasped when he grabbed you stopping you from moving anymore stopping your build up.
"Not so fast baby, your doing all the work" he planted your pussy back onto his face, and you let him get to work. His tongue worked wonders, as he licked stripes up and down your pussy folds. He sucked on your clit, the lewd slurping noises adding to the intensity. You let out a high pitched moan. "yeah i wanna here you cry like that, say my name baby"
He was devouring your cunt, making you lose all the sanity you had built up. You grabbed his golden hair, gripping at the roots. He began to rub your clit in fast little circles, quadrupling the pleasure instantly. Arching your back upwards, you cried out as you felt your climax approaching rapidly.
"Ah fuck leon! I'm gonna-"
Before you could finish you came gushing all over his face, but he continued to lick it up like icing on a cake. you gasped, become overstimulated extremely fast you were already approaching your second orgasm when he pulled away.
"What the fuck? why'd you stop" you hissed from the loss of contact.
"You can't cum again unless you help me with my little problem" chuckling he beckoned you over to his lap.
Swaying your hips slightly you sauntered your way over to him, plopping yourself straight onto his hard on. you felt it poking you, it was rock hard by now pretty painful to your guessing.
"What can I do to make you feel better Mr Kennedy?" smirking, you brushed his wild strands of hair out of his pretty face.
"I want you to fucking ride me right here right now" he groaned, feeling the weight of your bare pussy on his cock.
"I didn't know you were into cowgirls" you purred, you got of of him and began to pull down his underwear. his cock sprung free, and you looked at its oh so delicious tip. it was completely covered in his precum, the tip a blushed colour that had you humming with satisfaction.
"Now let your cowgirl ride you." you grinned, lowering your ass as your pussy came in contact with his cock. you slowly slid down on him, making him groan.
"Fuck your so tight, god damn" he could feel you wrapped around him, squeezing onto him for dear life. he pulled the top of your dress down, exposing your tits as you moved up and down in fast little motions.
"Fuck no bra either?" he moaned, licking his lips before grabbing one of your breasts licking and kissing the delicate bud. to far gone into the pleasure his cock was giving you, you struggled to respond your chest heaving up and down. the wet noises that your cunt made as you bounced on his cock were music to his ears. heavenly he could say, grabbing your other nipple and twiddling it with his rough padded thumb.
He admired you struggling to take his cock, the cute little bump his cock made indenting your stomach. "ah leon.. you feel so.. so good!" you managed to cry out. this made leon snap, grabbing you by the hips he began slamming you up and down. Up and down his cock making you squeal and mewl begging for more. you were his own personal toy, his little cocksleeve he could use whenever he god damn well pleased.
"Yeh, you like that you slut?" Leon could tell you were close to releasing, removing one hand of the bruising grip of your hips he spanked your ass it slowly changing to a bright ruddy red. it stung but pleasure coursed through your whole body while he gave you the most exquisite pounding of your life.
You released all over Leon's stomach, the opaque liquid glistening. "shit, that was hot" he flipped you in reverse, so he was on top. pinning you to the cool tiles, he started to drill into you. he chuckled when he saw your euphoric face, babbling you managed to speak up. "gosh I love you, I really do!" face tinged pink from this 'workout' you started leaving thin scratch marks across Leon's back.
"What was that angel? I didn't hear you"
"I said I love you!" you practically yelled it, Leon clamped a big hand over your mouth. didn't want the whole fucking world knowing you guys were fucking in the restroom next door.
"Your my favourite.. you know that?" Leon questioned you, his hips beginning to slow and stutter.
"M-mine to!"
"I'm your favourite to?" staring at you nodding fast, he let out a guttural groan before releasing deep inside you.
Collapsing in your hold, he hugged your form.
"That was the best I've ever had" you sighed, embracing him back.
"The best sex? Oh sweetheart there's so much more I could do." Still inside of you, Leon pecked your cheek.
"Did you really mean that you love me?" His serious face made you laugh.
"Leon! Of course I've liked you for the longest time.. but I didn't know how to say" he stroked your hair, finally pulling out of you.
"Well that makes two of us.. and I love you to" his warm skin contacted with yours making you feel at home.
"So why don't we get the hell out of here, make an excuse that your sick or something" you suggested.
"Great plan.. your gonna be the sick one though, got to be the gentleman you know?" he winked, you returned a gleeful smile holding him dearly close.
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starmorself · 1 year
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how to “become in imagination”
“you shouldn’t be tiring yourself out by “trying” to become.” -starmorself 4/9/23
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i personally feel like my post of my realization on what edward art said was too bland and not that “GOOD” advice! so i want to make a post to explain it more!
when i mean by “become in imagination” theres nothing or anyone to “become” but states you become aware of and wear them in imagination.
all of these states are yours. theres infinite states you can choose and be aware of in consciousness. everyday those states you are aware of and accept manifest into the 3d (ex. the color shirt you are wearing, a hair strand sticking out, a pimple, etc).
how to “become”
just decide you are/have it.
its really that simple. you just decide it. decide you are the inner man with what you want within. not in the 3D but within. you assume you are it. put yourself in the state of consciousness of being whatever you want as the inner man.
assume = accept it to be real/yours
“I remember my only goal is to BECOME the one I want to be IN IMAGINATION ONLY. So I think about something I want to be, anything. Then I assume I AM that IN IMAGINATION, and in Imagination I can be all things.” -ed art
“Think only in terms of these: Creating, Feeling and Thinking. You CREATE the FEELING you want and from that THOUGHTS come.” -ed art
your thoughts will flow, your actions will flow, your 3d will change to who you are “being in imagination”. theres nothing to force, just accept it!
also the 3d is you (i was thinking of making a separate post explaining but here is the explanation: the 3d reflects you. even before you were aware of your imagination reflecting to the 3d, you are always unconsciously creating your “3d”. theres nothing outside of your awareness.) i also made another explanation below!!
everything in your 3D was once imagined by you! including the “small things”! you can observe the 3D and the things you imagined and accepted to be true, and you will see the 3D is always reflecting you. this observation can never go wrong. (this is self. self is who you think you are and have and what you accept to be true IN IMAGINATION.)
so hopefully this doesnt breed any confusion (that wasn’t my goal) just “be in imagination.” “be” whoever you want to be imagination.. all of these states you can occupy are DONE. accept it. make your imagination your dwelling place, your safe hub from your circumstances
…make your imagination your home. you are free to be whoever you want in there.
heres some golden quotes from edward art!!:
“If you cannot move on from the past, understand that since “Creation is Finished,” you can become Aware of Being a different Version of yourself that has experienced the desirable past.” -ed art
“We should not focus why we are not receiving but instead becoming Aware of Being the Version of Yourself that has received.” -ed art
“I currently feel fulfilled. I have not felt this fulfilled in many many years. Why? Because there is a Version of me that feels fulfilled and I started to become Aware that I Am that Version.” -ed art
“I simply assume that I am that Version of myself.” -ed art
“If you imagine yourself in the end, which is easy, but then you identify yourself with the outer-man, you will breed nothing but frustrations. However, if you first identify yourself with the One Within, and then imagine your end, you will not question if you “are going to get it,” you HAVE IT! The Inner Man always has it.” -ed art
“Why does Neville say it won’t fail you? He says this because it can’t! How can I say this, when I myself have failed? Because I did NOT change SELF! SELF cannot fail at expressing. And SELF is ALL that you FEEL to BE and HAVE in your MIND! ” -ed art
“SELF MUST BE EXPRESSED,” that is the Law. You don’t have to doubt “is my imaginal act going to come to pass?” Who is doubting? “SELF!” Who is worrying? “SELF!” What gets expressed? “SELF!” YOU CAN ALWAYS TRUST THAT SELF WILL BE EXPRESSED!” -ed art
“We are NOT trying to manipulate reality or force some change upon this physical world. That will happen NATURALLY. Why? Because your world is REFLECTING SELF.” -ed art
i will like to simply remind yall, all of these are within imagination, “be in imagination”, “become it in imagination.” accept you are it in imagination. identify yourself with what you want in imagination.
and no you obviously cannot “become” these states or your “desired self” since they are already done and you go through a lot of states EVERYDAY. just go to the end and accept them! be it in consciousness. (thats my definition of become!)
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