#fic: naruto x reader

[tired-biscuit]

okay but imagine werewolf best friend kiba who has wanted and loved you for years. who has pined and craved and fucked a pair of your underwear and chased off so many 'rivals' behind your back.

imagine going away for college and reconnecting. maybe you go camping. maybe you trigger his rut earlier because he's wanted you for so fucking long that it can't be contained. him at the entrance, unzipping it, crawling over you, waking you up with his head between your legs and begging for you to 'help him out'. for 'just the tip'

but it ends up with him knotting and breeding you and you wake up with his mark on your shoulder and he's already pawing at you again

Finding peace in the spontaneous wild (that is you)

18+ MDNI, fem!reader/werewolf!bsf!kiba

premise: when an accidental encounter with your former childhood best friend leads you to agree to a one-night camping trip consisting of just you two, you discover that there’s more to your friendship than initially meets the eye.

cw: monsterfucking (he's mostly in his human form, though), knotting, creampie, implied breeding, mounting, size difference, omegaverse themes.

college/modern AU. friends to lovers, one bed trope (kind of, they’re sharing sleeping bags in the same tent), unestablished mating bond, mutual pining, lots of bickering and misunderstandings; they get into one big fight (kiba and reader are polar opposites personality-wise and tend to agree to disagree), usage of sweetheart and bunny as pet names for reader. i think that's everything?

wc: 26.2k

find part two here!

———

You run into Kiba at the grocery store, around two weeks after returning home from college.

It’s completely coincidental; neither of you expects it to happen. You catch him standing next to the fruit section, picking the best-looking oranges out of the bunch with slightly pinched eyebrows and narrowed eyes, and before you can even ready yourself to approach him, he already beats you to it.

He blinds you with his grin despite the distance between you as you raise your hand to wave him over. A single dimple that you were already expecting appears in his right cheek. His smile is toothy and friendly; nostalgic. It throws you back to a much simpler time.

After all, you’ve known each other for years — you and Kiba go way back. Back to when your only concern had been what cartoons to watch, and the urgency to come back home well before it got dark outside was a rule set in stone. 

Back then, the world seemed to be splashed with brighter, more vibrant colours than it is now. A sugar rush was the best thing to ever happen to you before you came crashing down twice as hard, and your mother had called you downstairs for breakfast every single morning before ruffling your hair and rushing off to work. 

Now, you’re happy if you get the chance to FaceTime with her once or twice a week while you’re away at college. Your hair certainly doesn’t get ruffled anymore and you make breakfast yourself.

Even the trees in your neighborhood have changed, no longer appearing as tall as they used to be because, well, back then you were the smaller one. The sidewalk on your street was sizzling hot with summer heat, but now it's getting worse each year, and your feet aren’t bare anymore as you walk on it; no longer trekking the familiar route that would lead you to the house of the very boy, who now stands before you in the middle of the grocery store instead of leaning against the open doorway of his childhood home, impatiently waiting to pull you inside.

You used to spend nearly every single day with him. Going on adventures with your bikes — you with your helmet on, him without — until your legs were aching from pedaling so much had become a daily thing of sorts. Constantly coming up with new ways to entertain your never-satisfied, highly imaginative kid brains was a favoured pastime. Wearing scrapes of all shapes and sizes on your knees and palms like they were badges of honor was a thing to be expected. 

But that’s all gone now.

Because now, you’re both adults. Juggling jobs and degrees — well, at least one of you is, not that you’re surprised in any way that Kiba hasn’t chosen to try his hand at college — and all that other crap that consists of time-consuming responsibilities that can be quite pesky and bothersome, but make your lives easier to live nonetheless. 

It feels like an aeon has passed as a result. Like your childhood had been whisked away from you by neither of you ever realizing it until it was far too late. So, you’ve drifted apart. It tends to happen. 

Come to think of it, when was the last time you’d seen your trusted partner in crime? Three years ago? Or has it been four already? You’re unsure.

All you know is that it’s been long. Too long. College feels like it’s been nothing but a rather confusing blur, to say the least.

But so does Kiba.

And so do you.

You’ve both become utterly indecipherable in each other’s eyes. Like foggy glass on a rainy morning.

So you use a couple of moments to merely look at each other because of it; to wipe the condensation off the glass with the sleeves of your phantom sweaters. Him, with those goddamn oranges that he’s still holding in his too-big hands, and you, with your shopping cart that you forgot back at the end of aisle 7 twice already. 

You stare and stare and stare, all until your burning curiosity finally gets the best of you, and you can’t help but invite him to approach you with a not at all subtle aim to appease it. 

Kiba visibly perks up when you wave him over. He shoves the oranges into a reusable bag that his mom had always nagged him about using, and walks over with that confident stride you’d always envied him for having. 

And then all of a sudden he’s right there, in the flesh. Looking the same as he’d always looked, but also not at all.

It’s weird. His smile is the same but the face that surrounds it has changed. Finding yourself in his presence again after a period that you’d describe nothing short of a small eternity, you realize that even if the grin of your childhood best friend is an exact replica of his old one, everything else has either faded away or been replaced by something new.

And new means foreign.

Because as you tip your head slightly upwards to initiate proper eye contact this time, you realize that Kiba has gotten taller. Way taller. Even with his posture relaxed, he towers above you with no effort; something he didn’t get to do back when you’d been nothing but a pair of runts, practically conjoined at the hip.

And that’s not all there is to it. Besides his impressive height, Kiba has also become broader in the shoulders and longer in the legs since you’ve last seen him. He has a sleeve of insanely intricate tattoos covering nearly the entirety of his left arm; it reaches up to the short sleeve of his light-grey tee and probably up to his shoulder. He’s also lost most of his baby fat, and thus now owns a face more defined than you ever recall it being. 

His mop of hair is mostly hidden by the faded baseball cap that he must have put on to fight the summer heat that’s raging outside, however there are still a couple of rogue curls peeking out at the sides and at the nape of his neck. The brim has softened from how old the cap is, not as bent downwards at the corners as it surely used to be ages ago, but at least it still gets the job done. 

He’s always had a habit of being lazy whenever it came to getting haircuts. It seems like some things did manage to stay the same, after all.

You investigate further. As far as differences go, the edge of Kiba’s jawline is sharp instead of round, and his cheeks look smooth to the touch. He’s clean-shaven; the embarrassing peach fuzz days, which you used to tease him about for months on end, have ended. 

He’s a grown man. A pretty darn healthy, vigorous one, it seems.

And speaking of being healthy, you remember a time when he wasn’t.

———

You’re fourteen again and find yourself back in a rather familiar bedroom.

The air inside the room smells warm, like wood and your second home. The sounds of the house are just the way you remember them being. 

There’s someone talking downstairs. Furniture cracks and snaps as it settles in even if it’s old and has had more than enough time to do so already. Dog claws ceaselessly click against the floor. The TV is on. You can hear the weather forecast for tomorrow if you strain your ears hard enough. 

And then there’s the shallow breathing.

Oh, yeah. Right. 

Kiba’s sick. 

Your smile wavers as you keep sitting on the edge of the bed, his bed, that you’d fallen asleep in a rather embarrassing amount of times back when your legs were shorter and it hadn’t been considered awkward or improper just because your best friend belongs to the opposite sex.

The sheets are a tacky design of light blue and white and the mattress is old, but sturdy enough to not cause any worry of having to buy a new one just yet. It supports both his and your own weight fairly well, however it won’t be able to do so for much longer, you think.

You turn your head towards the window. It’s fall and it’s raining outside — the heavy raindrops rattle against the glass every so often whenever the wind catches them, making you stare out at the foggy grayness that sluggishly spirals on the other side.

You’ve left your boots downstairs. In the hallway, where Tsume, Kiba’s mother, had greeted you and ushered you inside the moment you’d come knocking on her front door, looking soaking wet to the bone. Besides your boots, your bright yellow raincoat resides there as well, probably dripping from the hanger onto the floor, making a puddle you’ll have to feverishly apologize for later.

With your train of thought coming to a halt, you eventually grow tired of watching the nearby woods that reside next to the Inuzuka household. So you shift your gaze again. 

This time, you focus on the room itself. There are posters taped to the walls, the majority of them depicting movies and rock bands that you’ve never really fancied yourself all that much. The desk is littered with clutter, most of it school-related but you’re able to spot a couple of comics in there as well. The alarm clock on the nightstand is digital; it shows the time. 

3:27 PM.

It’s a Thursday afternoon, but it’s also the fourth day that Kiba hasn’t come to school. The seat in the classroom that he usually sits in remains empty — you know that because you keep it reserved for him by placing your backpack on it each morning. He’s been absent ever since the pain in his limbs and the unyielding fever had become too much for even him to handle; the boy who just loves to brag about never getting sick. 

All right, you’ve got to cut him some slack because in some way, he isn’t even actually sick? His growth spurt — and his entire puberty experience overall, if you could even call it that — is the thing that has taken such a toll on him, not actual illness.

And in some way, it has taken a toll on you, too. Seeing him ache hurts you just the same, even if your bones aren’t the ones that are currently growing much too fast, much too soon.

So here you are, bringing him copies of the notes that you’ve been religiously taking in class for the fourth day in a row. Keeping him company. Wiping the sweat off his forehead with a rag soaked in water, like a good best friend. Over and over again. Without stop.

His dark brown hair is damp from all the water and sweat, it sticks to his temples. He’s burning up, to the point that his face is flushed pink instead of tan, but he’s still shivering all over underneath the covers. 

Your heart hurts as you watch him endure such profound agony; it makes your chest squeeze tight. He’s clearly fallen ill in some shape or form and is in obvious pain, but no matter what you tell him, he simply refuses to go to the doctor’s office.

Truth be told, you feel rather surprised that his mom hasn’t dragged him there herself yet. Taking into account that she’s usually completely unfazed by his overwhelmingly stubborn nature, you’d expected her to not be taking any shit from her son whatsoever and would be firmly setting her foot down when it came to anything concerning his health. Granted, while he did inherit most of his obstinate qualities from her side of the family, the fact that—

“Stop worryin’ so much.”

You blink in surprise. “Mm?”

“I said stop worryin’.”

The feeble request that Kiba makes sounds firmer this time. It makes you look up from the rag you’ve been subconsciously clutching in your hands with a near death grip for the last five minutes or so. 

The slightly tingly feeling that dances within them now is somewhat hard to ignore. Especially at the tips of your fingers.

So you rest your hands on your lap, rubbing your palms up and down your jeans just to have something to do now that they’re empty. By the time you finally will yourself to turn your head, Kiba is already looking at you from the confines of the cozy prison that is his bed. 

His eyes are nearly half shut, eyelids heavy with lead-weighted exhaustion, but his expression is riddled with an emotion you’re not mature enough yet to fully decipher, much less understand.

Not that you’d ever tell him that, but you'd always considered him as the emotionally smarter one of your little duo; even with his awfully short temper taken into consideration. 

After all, while you excelled in academics, Kiba sought different places to thrive and prosper in. It didn’t take a genius to see that he’s practically been made to communicate with others; that he’s a proper people person. Shaped by people to be loved by people.

And the people do tend to love him. They really do.

Now that you think about it, that may also be the reason as to why he has way more friends than you. Why he can usually turn most situations to his favour, while you normally struggle to avoid the worst of outcomes. Why he knows how to read you like an open book Every. Single. Time, while you just play a never-ending guessing game of what’s happening inside that thick skull of his.

You’re an odd pair together. He’s nothing like you and you’re nothing like him. It’s no wonder that some don’t believe you’re actual friends at first, however Kiba has always been fast to prove them wrong. For some unknown reason, he’s attached you to himself and has been pulling you along for the ride ever since the day he first saw you. It’s been like that ever since.

Meanwhile, you’re just happy that you have someone to spend time with. Being so introverted proves to be quite a nuisance whenever it comes to meeting new people and acquiring friends, so he’s pretty much all you’ve got.

And that makes you care for him even more.

“How on earth am I supposed to ‘not worry’,” you begin to say quietly, making air quotes, “when my best friend has been practically chained to his bed for the last four days?”

Immediately, Kiba brushes you off with a flick of the wrist, gesturing that he thinks you’re overreacting. It pisses you off greatly, especially when he says, “Oh, please… I’m fine. You just worry too much.”

“Are you, though?” you ask. “Fine?”

“Are you?”

You exhale through your nose as you attempt to relax and wiggle your fingers, trying to appease him or convince him otherwise, you don’t know. 

The truth is, you want to tell him that no, you’re not fine. You want to tell him that you are worried sick for him because he is sick and won’t admit it. You want to tell him that you love him, that you care about him. Not in that kind of way, of course — goodness, no! — but in a way a young teenage girl who doesn’t know any better can love her best friend.

But instead, all you do is stay quiet because being considerate of others is your go-to. Besides, his headache is as bad enough as it is already. Who are you to make it worse by troubling him with your nonsense?

Unfortunately for you, Kiba doesn’t buy your rather bad portrayal of calm. All he does is sigh at it.

Continuously.

“What? What are you sighing for so much?” you instantly snap at the sound and aura of exasperation he emits, now. Your tone is razor sharp, much sharper than it needs to be, but you just can’t help yourself. Being so different from you, he can be outright infuriating sometimes.

“Nothin’,” he answers back, and yet he can’t resist giving you that look that definitely means there is something. “It’s nothin’, bunny.”

Your tone falls flat at the nickname he’s given you because of your rather timid personality, “Liar.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

He grunts, sighing again. “Oh, c’mon—”

“What?” you quip again. “You told me not to worry, so here I am; not worrying! I’m doing just like you’ve said.” 

The small wrinkle that’s etched itself between your brows deepens as the words rush out of you in one great swoop. It’s clear to you both that you don’t really mean them, but it looks like there’s definitely no sign of you admitting them coming any time soon.

“Fine, whatever.” Kiba almost sounds like he’s grumbling as he says, “You’re not worrying. There. Happy?”

You scoff. “No? Yes? I don’t know if I’m happy!”

He manages a weak smile at your indecisiveness, a mere quirk of an upper lip that’s not nearly as lively as it normally would be if he weren’t so sick. Your body tenses as he shuffles closer to the edge of the bed where you reside and nuzzles his face deeper into the pillow, wiping the sweat off his cheek right into the bedding this time around.

His voice comes across as muffled from the way he’s still hiding his face from view when he says, “I can practically see your brain catching on fire from all that worry that you’re apparently ‘not’ feeling, ya know.”

You can’t stop your eyes from rolling back as far as they’ll go. They just do it completely on their own accord whenever you’re with him, it seems. “And how can you possibly—”

He points at you with one tired hand and winces at how terribly heavy his arm feels with the action. It’s unpleasant and draining, but he wants to prove a point. So he keeps it nice and steady as he says, “Look, there’s smoke comin’ outta your ears already! You better chill out, or that lil’ pea brain of yours is gonna get burnt to a crisp or somethin’.”

He hisses like he’s just burnt himself after he teases you, drawing yet another scoff out of you. 

A pout graces your lips as you glare at him from underneath your lashes; ever the unexpected drama queen. “Well, at least I have a brain to burn, unlike yourself.”

His eyes settle on you again. “What’s that supposed t’mean?”

“Exactly what it sounds like, dummy,” you say. “I can bet you five bucks that there’s nothing but hay stored inside that freakishly big head of yours!”

“I—” He bristles at your comment before his eyes open wide and he scowls. “Shut up! My head ain’t big!”

Your expression mirrors his own, now. “No, you shut up!”

“You can’t talk to me like that; I’m sick!”

“So you finally admit that you’re actually sick, huh?”

“No, wait, that’s not what I meant—”

“Nu-uh, you said it so you meant it!”

Everything is quiet as you lean forward to point and dig an accusatory finger into his chest. He tenses but relaxes in a beat of a moment as the remaining pads of your fingers join in and graze the soft cotton of his worn t-shirt. Swipe to the right, then slightly upwards, the flat of your palm rests above the place where his heart lies.

Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump! 

His heartbeat is fast. Strong. Like a song that makes you want to scream the lyrics to instead of singing them so that you can feel it better inside the marrow of your bones.

But you don’t feel like listening right now.

“Hey, what’re you—”

He squirms and lets out a small noise of surprise when you suddenly jab him in the ribs.

Exchanging a quick look of betrayal with your best friend as he slaps your hand away, you feel your lips start to quiver. It’s not long before you both succumb and break into a fit of quiet laughter. The tension gradually dissipates with every chuckle and snicker, right along with your worries. At least for a little while, that is.

Kiba’s laugh cracks midway. You’re unsure if it’s because of the fact that he’s not feeling well or because his voice is just getting deeper with age, however you’re still giggling by the time he clears his throat and reaches over to place his hand on top of your own.

Your eyes instinctively flit towards the contact. It’s not anything new, you’ve held hands with him before — god knows you’ve gotten fake-married on at least three different occasions throughout your childhood, and with three different flavoured ring pops, at that — but as you now gaze at the blunt crescents of his nails, you can’t for the life of you remember his hand ever being this hot to the touch.

It’s concerning.

“Dude,” you whisper, your voice slowly dropping from playful to wary. “I don’t want to nag you about it anymore since I know you don’t like it, but I seriously think that you should go see a doctor… You’re burning up and it’s probably—”

You twitch as Kiba gives your hand a gentle, albeit unexpected squeeze to make you look up at him again. 

Just like your voice, his expression has switched from his previously boyish one, to a much more somber kind that, truth be told, you’re not used to seeing on his face all that much.

It makes your sentence, well, rambling, gradually fade into silence as you finally indulge him for once by keeping your mouth shut. He used to think you were quiet back when he’d met you. Now he knows that you just have to get comfortable in order to start speaking.

Shadows from the swaying branches outside dance across the side of his face that he hasn’t got buried in the pillow. Looking like he’s contemplating something heavy, Kiba swallows the saliva that’s gathered in his mouth whilst he runs his thumb along your knuckles.

The brief attempt at soothing you manages to bring a smidge of peace to the otherwise growing hurricane of emotions that’s steadily whirling somewhere inside your ribcage, however it’s over much too soon to actually make any difference.

Your look of concern only worsens as a result. Concentrating hard, you manage to repress the sudden urge to start biting your nails and tugging on the sleeves of your cream-coloured sweater that you’ve put on this morning.

“I’m just worried about you, is all,” you admit what he already knows, so quietly that you doubt if he can even hear it. “I just want you to get better.”

“I know,” is all he says. He can smell it on you.

“Then why won’t you—” You squeeze your eyes shut, groaning with irritation. “Gosh, why won’t you just do something about it, then?”

“Because I have to tell you something first,” he trails off somewhat reluctantly, and for once, he sounds like he’s actually being completely serious. “You just… you gotta promise me that you won’t tell anybody.”

Your reply comes quicker than one sequence of his heartbeat, “I promise. Besides, who would I tell anyway?”

“I mean it,” he says. You watch as he shakes his head slowly, sighing for real this time, not just to annoy you. “You seriously can’t tell anybody; not even your mom or Sakura or Ino. Especially Ino, for that matter.”

Offence bubbles within your chest way too fast at the merest hint of distrust. Since when did he start thinking you were one to yap out every little thing he tells you? 

“And I really mean it, too,” you fuss, brow wrinkling. “Jeez, Kiba; if I promise you that I’m not going to tell, then I’m really not going to tell! I’m not that close with Ino and Sakura anyway.”

Kiba blinks, seemingly surprised by how heatedly invested you’ve gotten into learning his secret. But also by how close you’ve managed to squeeze yourself next to him with the upset feelings to overwhelm you, briefly forgetting the lengthy speech about how he should go see a doctor. How you wait, evidently impatient and with bated breath, just so that you’d be able to hear every word he has to say.

He’s been seeing you in a different kind of light as of late. So perhaps it’s time that he shed some of it on himself now.

He’s always been one to love the spotlight, after all.

———

“Well, well, well… do my eyes deceive me, or have you finally gotten taller, wolf boy?”

The short laugh Kiba lets out at your innocent taunt doesn’t crack like it did back when you were fourteen. Instead, it’s deep and hearty; it reverberates deep inside his chest, sounding like a voice a storm would possess if it had the ability to speak the human tongue.

“Still insisting on that ol’ nickname?” he asks as he rests one hand on his hip.

“Of course,” you reply, chuckling. It’s hard to take him seriously when he looks like a nearly perfect replica of his mother in that exact moment; standing so disapprovingly, red shopping basket in hand. “I mean, who would I be if I did not make fun of you every chance I get?”

“Well, I dunno,” he mumbles whilst his eyes flick up towards the ceiling, seemingly searching for something. And then he looks at you again, but this time with that infuriating half-smile that you can’t say you’ve missed as he says, “A decent fuckin’ person for a change? Maybe?”

It’s light-hearted, what he says. Fun and provocative, just like he is. Like he’s always been.

So you bite.

“Oh, Kiba, Kiba, Kiba,” you purr, angling your head to one side playfully whilst clicking your tongue against your teeth. Your hand presses against his chest, the action so familiar it’s become muscle memory by now even after years of not initiating it. “When has being decent ever been fun to someone like you, mm?”

And there it is. The strong heartbeat corresponding to the soft lilt that appears in your voice when his name leaves your lips. Just like it’s always done whenever your only goal was to fluster him for ‘funsies’.

However, the interaction that was once so familiar to you is not quite as recognizable this time around.

Because now, it invites his gaze to settle back onto your face rather than pushing it away into the corner of the room. 

So he stares at you now. Leers. 

You try your best to ignore the way your muscles instinctively stiffen at the sight of the prolonged slits that slowly switch places with his pupils. Try your best to pay no mind to the way your pulse suddenly accelerates, pumping blood and forcing all of your senses to become overwhelmingly acute.

It’s done so fast that it makes you feel sort of dizzy. He stands straighter and every single hair on your body stands to attention in return. Goosebumps cover your skin the same moment as it starts feeling like it’s being pulled taut over your bones. You try to blame the sensation of a chill creeping up the back of your neck on the store’s AC but you know better.

The people who surround you don’t matter anymore. This summer’s hit song that annoyingly keeps on playing on repeat over the speakers above your heads has turned to white noise. 

It’s just him and you and you and him. Past, present, future.

And fuck, his irises are no longer brown. They’re darker; golden, almost unnaturally yellow. The colour gets eaten up fast as the pupils expand and shrink continuously. He zeroes in on you, on your mouth, on the curve of your face, on the bare side of your neck that you’ve got exposed with your ponytail and the tilt of your head. 

It’s been years since he’s last looked at you like that; that one time before you ran off to college, when you took it a step too far with the innocent flirting and you’ve almost come too close for comfort. 

But unlike before, he simply refuses to tear his eyes off of you this time. Refuses to relent. Refuses to blush and turn away in that sheepish way that is so uncharacteristic for an exceptionally, sometimes annoyingly bold person like him and that reminds you more of yourself.

His odd persistence causes him to pin you down with a single look, making you freeze on the spot.

Just like a predator would do to potential prey.

But that’s silly. You’re not prey! You’re his best friend, or well, you used to be once in a time long past. So keeping that in mind, you force yourself to quickly shake the eerie feeling off of your suddenly tense body as if it’s a heavy winter’s coat you’ve foolishly donned on, and ease the sudden tightness that tries so hard to take up residency within your chest, now.

But despite all of the attempts at self-soothing, as well as the countless comforting, reassuring mantras that you keep on playing on a loop inside your head in the same way you do a newly-discovered song on Spotify, you don’t really know what he’s like anymore, now do you? 

You haven’t seen him in years, after all. Haven’t spoken to him in ages. You left him all alone, left him to his own devices after he’d given you the same look he’s giving you now.

What if he’s managed to become more wolf than human with all that alone time?

The question makes your head want to hurt, so it’s no wonder that your voice comes out somewhat small-sounding when you finally gather yourself just enough to murmur, “You’re doing the thing again.”

And his sounds just a smidge on edge, just a smidge too sharp as he takes a step closer and mutters, “Thing? What thing?”

“You’ve got, uh… y’know…” You swallow audibly and try not to pay attention to the way his gaze slides down to your throat because of it; to the way it softly bobs as the sticky spit travels down, down, down. You swear that you can see the corners of his lips kick up at the sight of it. “You’ve got nightmare eyes.”

“Huh?” It takes him a second to realize what you mean. To remember one of the old codes you’ve come up with using whenever you’re in public, amongst people who certainly don’t know what he truly is. 

And then, at long last, the intensity in his expression ceases and brightens up as the realization dawns upon him. It’s like a lightbulb turning on with the flick of a switch. 

“Oh. Shit. Fuck, umm,” he curses like a sailor whenever he’s caught off-guard. It makes you relax just the tiniest bit as he finally musters a genuine, “Fuck, I’m so sorry. I didn’t even… notice.”

You watch as he proceeds to rub his eyes with one hand, all whilst you exhale a long puff of air that you’d almost forgotten you were holding in the first place. 

He looks at you again, genuinely confused and apologetic, and this time with pupils back to their regular circular shape. It causes some primal sort of relief that reaches the very core of your psyche to wash over you.

You’re free to move again. 

“It’s— Hah, it’s fine,” you manage weakly. “Besides a pretty awkward start to a conversation, it’s no biggie, really.”

“Fine? It definitely ain’t fine,” he retorts immediately. “You wouldn’t be lookin’ like you’re scared shitless right now if it were fine.”

“Me? Scared of you? Oh, please!” You huff, crossing your arms over your chest even if your limbs feel very wobbly and soft like jelly all of a sudden. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

He blinks again, his look a slightly incredulous one. “Don’t tell me you forgot?”

The bridge of your nose scrunches up in mild confusion as you ask, “Forgot what?”

Kiba grumbles this time, pointing to his own nose, “Uh, the fact that I can literally smell the fear on ya…?”

Oh. Oh! He’s right, you somehow did manage to forget that; forget his ability to smell how someone is feeling just from the way their hormone levels change the very base of their scent and the sweat they exude as a result. Or whatever the science behind it is.

Jesus fucking Christ. Him and his stupid wolf genes. What’s next, him pinpointing the day when your next period is due?

As if that hasn’t happened before.

“Wha—...? Of course not! Tsch.” You try to play it off with a click of a tongue that doesn’t manage to convince either of you. “What I don’t remember, however, is giving you permission to sniff me like some sleazy creep.”

“Oh, fuck off,” he bristles immediately at the remark. “You know damn well what I meant.”

You nod. “Yes, that you’re a sleazy creep.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do?” he asks. “Stop breathing around your presence?”

“I mean, it wouldn’t hurt to try.”

He gives you a pointed glare. “It also wouldn’t hurt to try shutting the fuck up every once in a while, and yet here you are.”

“Wow, I can’t believe I’ve also managed to forget what a prick you are.”

“Right back atcha.”

You both share a short laugh at your little faux quarrel, the tension slowly relenting. The entire interaction is familiar. 

His shoulders relax, your heartbeat slows down to something a bit more normal. He doesn’t point it out just for the sake of not starting yet another petty argument.

“But seriously, don’t worry about it.” You pause at some point, stifling another brittle chuckle that bubbles up your throat. “I know you can’t control your weird, spooky eyes, okay? And besides, I’m used to them anyway! Well, kind of… I guess I’m used to them…? Gosh, I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

Is it because you’re nervous?

“Still,” he chides, sighing. “It’s been years and I should’ve learned how to fix it by now. It’s just—” He takes a breath. Ponders as various excuses and half-truths start bouncing off the walls inside his head. “It’s just that I dunno how to control it whenever you’re… umm...”

You give him a second, but when he doesn’t say anything else, you bite the bullet to ask, “Whenever I’m what?”

“Ah, nothin’,” he mumbles whilst scratching his cheek. You narrow your eyes as he fixes the brim of his cap. As he tugs on the collar of his thin t-shirt with its stupidly oversized Nike logo. He’s fidgeting all over the place, especially when he feels the need to add, “It’s nothin’.”

It feels like life is repeating itself all over again.

Your curiosity makes you lean further into his space just like you had a habit of doing back when you were kids. Only this time, he doesn’t take your hand. He doesn’t stroke your knuckles one by one, but rather pushes back, creating more space between your bodies.

Well, that’s new.

“C’mon.” Your tone falls slightly flat because of the sudden disappointment that reaches way deeper than you’d expected it to as you ask, “Whenever I’m what?”

He sounds surprisingly stern as he says, “I told you… it’s nothing.”

A long pause ensues. And then all he gets from you is an, “Okay.”

Awkwardness lingers in the air once again. It makes you both uncomfortable because neither of you is really used to the sudden quiet. You’ve gone through so much, so many experiences together and now it’s come to… this? Walking on eggshells around each other until the end of time just because of that one event in the past and now this one?

Fuck no. As if you’re going to let that happen.

So you plaster a smile onto your face, one that doesn’t really reach your eyes just yet as you say, “Just so you know, you’re acting hella weird right now.”

“Well what did you expect, bunny?” He shrugs and you try to act like you don’t notice the way his t-shirt tightens at all the right places with it. Goodness, he’s changed so much in just a couple of years, you can hardly believe it. “I mean, I bump into you after literal years of no contact whatsoever, and when I finally do, all you do is argue with me and call me a, what was it again, ‘sleazy creep’?”

It’s hard not to giggle at the air quotes he feels the need to show you with the two words. It makes your face lighten up as you say, “Stop calling me that.”

“What, bunny?” He smirks, now. Smirks! “Sure. But only after you stop calling me all of your stupid nicknames.”

You muse like a cat. “Why of course, Jacob.”

His expression turns blank in an instant, the smirk gone as quickly as it came. “Seriously?”

“What? It’s just a name, isn’t it?”

“Just so you know, I still regret the day you made me watch Twilight with you.”

“Oh, shush. You loved it, and besides; it was on theme!”

You feel your grin growing into a genuine one as he scoffs and grunts something under his breath in reply. He’s clearly annoyed with all your bullshit.

“Mm?” You blink, the corners of your lips twitching upward, persisting. “What was that?”

“Nothin’.”

“No, no, none of that again. Out with it; I want to hear what you said.”

“Fine.” He rolls his eyes, the honey that swirls in them as dazzling as ever. So syrupy sweet, his irises are an utter delight even under the unflattering fluorescent lights of the store. “I said that you’re still as insufferable as you used to be back when we were kids.”

The chuckle you let out now is one of pure amusement. “Is that so?”

“Yep,” he says as he pops the P. “A goddamn pain in my ass since day one.”

You quirk a brow. “Am I really, now?”

“Who else but you?”

It’s always been you.

His words spark a sensation of genuine fondness to swell so deep within your ribcage that you’re somewhat unsure of what to do with it. 

Confused, you push it to the side. Sweep it under the rug and allow it to join the already big pile of all the other unrequited feelings you’ve never dared to express. It’s easier to purposefully keep your eyes squeezed tightly shut.

You can’t see when you’re already blind.

“Any-ways,” you sing-song, extending your hand towards him. “It was good seeing you again. We should grab a coffee sometime, if you’re up for it?”

Instead of replying and shaking your hand, Kiba looks down at your polite gesture and nearly starts to frown at the sight of it.

“What?” you ask as the slight wrinkle between his brows continues to deepen. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“No reason.” He hesitates a bit then, swallowing hard. It makes his Adam’s apple bob in his throat. “I’ve just missed you, is all. This town fucking sucks ass when my girl’s not in it, ya know? And this whole handshake thing you’re doing is weird.”

Fuck. His honesty, the way he calls you his girl, the too-warm look in his too-warm eyes, fucking everything in that wretched moment makes you start feeling dizzy and causes sweat to gather in a layer so thick right on the flat of your awkwardly twitchy palms, one of which you’re still extending towards him.

What you wouldn’t give for a pair of pockets to stuff them into right now.

Because to be completely honest, you’re outright baffled by the reaction that your body throws at you with full force, now. He’s called you the same two words a million times before, alone or in front of other people — it never really mattered. To him, you were always his girl. It was that simple.

And while that did manage to stir up some emotions within you that you weren’t ready to acknowledge yet even back then, you always managed to play it off like it was no big deal. 

But those feelings have gotten stronger now, despite the distance. They’ve gotten potent. To the point where they’re almost deadly.

And they’re also sneaky, like a shadow grazing your back and breathing right at the spot where your neck connects to your shoulder. They gradually build up with each passing second of silence that hangs between you. They take their time to build up on momentum; like an avalanche or an upcoming tsunami. 

And for a moment, just for the shortest of moments, you swear that Kiba can tell.

But luckily for you, he seems to be oblivious about it, or is at least playing it off like he is. And that’s good! The least he can do after cooking up this mess, is save you the embarrassment that you most certainly don’t wish to live through, thank you very much! 

So you do the next best thing that is currently at your disposal. 

You object to his genuine affection like an idiot. 

“Whaaat? You missing me?” Internally cringing at how high your voice is getting in pitch, you’re almost positive that it must hurt his sensitive wolf hearing. However, much to your dismay, you just can’t fucking stop acting weird for some reason. “Pfsh… Didn’t anyone tell you that lying isn’t nice, Inuzuka?”

For fuck’s sake, you’re acting like he’s holding you at gunpoint.

“Uh… Okay? Hah…?” He gives you a look filled to the brim with doubt, his dark brows faintly scrunching together again. “Well, you wanna know what else ain’t nice?”

All you can do is nod. You’re on the verge of killing yourself right here and now.

“Well, how ‘bout,” he pretends to ponder, rubbing his chin. “Oh! How ‘bout forgetting all about your best friend the moment you start attending some fancy, goody two shoes college halfway across the country. Yeah.”

It’s your turn to offer him your best unimpressed stare this time. Your heart feels like it’s stuck inside your throat, pulse rattling behind your teeth. 

You can’t really tell if he’s joking or not. His tone may be light, sure, but you aren’t able to read him as well as you used to back in the day, and even then it was pretty bad.

He’s gotten… complicated.

Much like your entire friendship has.

You can still remember the almost kiss that never happened back at his place that caused this entire flurry of very, very confusing emotions to start in the first place, or at least present themselves at the surface. Right on the night before you’d packed your bags and ran off to the other side of the country, nearly fully ghosting him on the spot. Your best friend.

“C’mon, man,” you mumble, “don’t be like that.” The guilt is bad enough as it is.

“Like what?” he asks. As is regret.

“Don’t hold a grudge like you always do. I’ve come home loads of times between semesters; during the holidays especially,” you hesitantly retort, frowning. “And besides, it’s not like you weren’t gone all the time either. I saw your posts about all the backpacking and all those roadtrips and whatnot... With Tamaki.” 

The mention of his ex-girlfriend catches him off guard. He blinks, flicking his gaze towards the stacked shelves that suddenly seem to become like the most interesting thing in the world.

Goddammit, you’d almost kissed him while— while—

Still, despite all of that, you wait for him to say something first. Patiently, impatiently; you don’t even know anymore.

“I called,” he lamely offers at long last.

“Well, I texted,” you reply in a heartbeat.

“Barely,” he corrects. “You barely texted.”

Your expression falls somber in an instant. Of course he’d paint you as the bad guy as effortlessly as it is to breathe. It’s what cancers are known for. Especially cancer men.

“Well,” you stumble, shrugging. “What did you want me to do, Kiba? I-I mean, you had a girlfriend.”

“So?” 

He doesn’t even ask how you know that they’ve broken up. But to be fair, when you stop posting couple photos on your stories and feed and suddenly unfollow each other, it’s a pretty obvious tell.

“So? So?” You stare at him, taken aback. “I seriously doubt Tamaki would’ve been happy to see some random chick blowing up your phone constantly.”

“But you’re not some random chick. You were my best friend… you still are,” he says and Jesus on a fucking cross, the way he says the words makes him sound so fucking hurt. 

“I know,” is all you can offer. The weight that suddenly sits on your shoulders makes you want to slump. That, or either curling yourself into a ball.

The feeling only gets worse when he says, “We were supposed to go on those trips together.”

“I know,” you repeat. “I’m sorry.”

He fixes the brim of his cap again. “Are ya, though? Sorry?” 

“Yes! Of course I am!” You scowl so hard that it makes the bridge of your nose scrunch up in annoyance. “If I could do something about it, I would. Trust me.”

He looks at you; really looks at you. Up and down. And then he says, “Then do it.”

“Do what?” you ask dumbly.

“Go on a trip with me,” he explains. “Today.”

“Today?”

“Did I fuckin’ stutter?”

You stare at him. He stares right back, gaze unmoving. 

Fucking hell, he’s actually serious about this.

“But I’m… I’m not really a backpacking kind of girl,” you try meekly. 

Just the mere idea of going somewhere remote with him completely alone is making you feel warm all over. You need to get yourself out of this mess ASAP!

“No worries,” he replies faster than a heartbeat. “We can always go camping.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. “Camping?”

“Yeah. For one night,” he says. “I know a really good spot that I go to all the time.”

“But I–” You fumble once more, looking down at the pretty nail polish on your toes. “I don’t even have the proper clothes for it. Like those fancy gym clothes.”

“Heh.” You attempt to ignore the way his chuckle makes your heart want to jump. Especially as he leans in slightly to say, “All you need is a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants. Oh, or maybe those grey leggings that you always liked to wear and that make your ass look great… Do you still have those?”

He snickers like a child when you punch him in the shoulder.

“And what about the hiking boots, you perv?” you ask, brushing off his lewd comment with heat creeping up your neck. 

“What about ‘em?”

“I don’t have those either.”

“Christ, we’re not going that far, bunny.” He laughs, looking at you in disbelief. “A pair of sneakers will do. You’re talking and planning like I’m gonna take you all the way up to the mountains like I’m some fuckin’ dragon or some shit.”

Your eyes surely must be getting tired from rolling back so much. “Hilarious.”

He waits on your answer with a smile; the one that shows that wretched dimple in his cheek and that makes him look entirely innocent despite the oddly sharp canine teeth. 

Goddammit, you want to kill him because of how cute he is. However, you’re still feeling slightly unsure about the entire thing. 

Evidently reluctant, you ask, “Just one night?”

“Just one night,” he confirms, nodding vehemently.

“And there isn’t going to be a full moon or anything… of that sort?”

He chuckles at the hidden question. “I wouldn’t really be out here shopping for groceries if there was a chance for that to happen, now would I?”

“Yeah, I suppose that’s true,” you trail off. You glance up at him, not fully convinced yet. “Do you promise that you’ll take care of everything?”

“‘Course,” he says.

“Say it, then.”

“Say what?”

“That you promise.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously!”

He sighs at how persistful you are. As if he’s any better! “Fine. I promise that I’ll take care of everything.” 

Even you.

Seconds pass. One second, two, three. Staring at him with both of your brows tightly knit together, you can literally feel his excitement transferring itself to you through some invisible link between you which you’ve never quite managed to sever. You suppose his emotions are just that contagious.

“Well?” he inquires, all giddy-like. “What d’you say?”

“Well,” you trail off, kissing your teeth. “I suppose… a single night can’t really hurt?”

“Fuck, yes!” he exclaims and before you know it, you’re being pulled into a bear hug you didn’t even realize how much you’ve missed until you’re caught in it all over again.

Your cheek smushes against his chest. Muscle memory kicks in once more; persuading your arms to move on their own accord, letting them wrap around the familiar place a little above his waist that doesn’t feel as familiar anymore. 

He smells good, like amber, the very heart of a forest and all things wild. It’s earthy, rich, inhumanly strong. It fills your nose, titillates your senses and makes lush greenery and spices start to take root inside your lungs. 

Every breath makes you dizzier and it’s hard to keep your composure as a result; especially when there’s a sequence of powerful thump, thump, thumps pounding right against your ear, now.

His heartbeat is so fast. It’s like he has two.

You’re silent as you listen to the quick rhythm of his heart. And for a change, so is he. Feeling unsure how much time is passing, you continue to cling onto your best friend in the middle of the empty aisle, reawakening all the memories, warming your body with his heat even if it’s hot enough outside to fry an egg on the concrete. 

The soles of your colourful flip-flops will surely stick to the sidewalk when you walk back home to gather your things and explain your unexpected trip to your parents.

“Kiba—” The last part of his name melds into a giggle from the way he squeezes you so tight that your spine pleasantly cracks in all the places that have been feeling way too stiff from the all-nighters you had to pull during exam week, and progresses into a quiet squeal for help by the time he swings you from side to side like an excited boy would his favourite toy.

“Ugh, m’sorry!” He laughs as he releases you, letting you plant your feet back onto the white tiles where they belong. “I just had to get that outta my goddamn system. It’s been building up for years.” 

“It’s okay,” you say, punching his shoulder again, this time playfully. “I always knew you were secretly a softy.”

The tips of his ears turn pink at that. The blush is not strong enough to be noticed by you, but he feels the warmth, feels the subtle prickling along the back of his neck.

Why is it so intense?

It makes his voice drop lower as he mutters a flustered, “As if.”

“What, I really did!”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever… But all jokes aside, I really am glad that you’re back,” he admits before you can beat him to it. He pulls back just enough to look you directly in the eyes and smiles. “I really did miss you a whole lot, bunny.”

It’s hard to be vulnerable and admit that you’ve missed him too, so you keep quiet as you plaster your best smile onto your lips again and reach up to jokingly flick the tip of his nose.

“I thought I told you to stop calling me that.”

Perhaps it’ll distract him from the fact that unlike him, you’re as cowardly as they get.

———

“Hey, I meant to ask… How come you didn’t bring Akamaru with you today?”

Some time after bumping into you in the grocery store, Kiba stills for a second at the innocent question you present before him whilst walking the narrow forest path that is supposed to be leading you to your destination.

In the late afternoon hours, the forest feels like it’s alive. There are birds chirping amongst the branches of the trees above your heads and warm sunlight filters through the leaves. A nearby stream keeps busy by smoothing down the rocks inside it. Everything thrives during the summer.

Even the air smells better; like it’s been thoroughly ridden of your town’s signature scent. But despite the fact that you’ve reached the point of summer when dog days are approaching fast, every inhale you take now feels fresh and satisfyingly cool instead of sticky whilst it travels down your airway.

It’s nice to be able to breathe again. 

And as for Kiba, well, he wishes he could say the same.

Following closely behind you, the young werewolf realizes that he is finding it harder and harder to concentrate the further progress you make on your hike. And while there may be plenty of reasons for his lack of focus at the moment, taking the fact that you’ve still got a lot of catching up to do into account, the main one is also the one that concerns him the most.

You just smell so fucking delicious to him, it’s insane.

He wants to devour you.

And how couldn’t he want that? There are phantom strawberries weaved into your hair and clothes from the matching shampoo and body wash set that you must have showered with before leaving your house. Sunscreen sits on your skin, turning the fruity notes even more summery than they already are.

If he walks close enough, he can even smell the sweat that slowly gathers on the back of your neck as you ascend the gradual slope of the hill that he’s planning to set up camp on.

So yeah, it’s hard to stay away, when all your scent does is lure him in. Hard to keep in-check, when you’re practically calling out to him, inviting him to come closer. He’s missed the way you smell so much.

God, if only he could just shove his nose into the crook of your neck and—

“Kiba?”

“Huh?” 

The man in question blinks now, looking up only to find you standing several meters ahead of him; hands glued to your hips and brow quirked. He didn’t even realize that he’d come to a full stop while thinking about certain scenarios he’d rather not say out loud for the sake of your well-being.

“Sorry,” he says before he awkwardly clears his throat and quickens his pace to reach you again. “What did you say? I kinda got sidetracked for a bit there.”

“By what?” You part your lips wider, huffing whilst trying to gather your breath. He looks like he hasn’t even broken a sweat while you’re literally feeling like your lungs are about to collapse any second now. To make matters even worse, he’s also skilfully avoided the pesky tree root that almost made you trip earlier without even as much as glancing at it. 

“You know what, never mind that,” you say, shaking your head. “I just asked why you didn’t bring Akamaru with us today?”

“Oh, umm… Well, ya know; he’s gotten pretty old by now so he can’t really make the trek as effortlessly as he used to,” he starts to explain and you don’t miss the hint of melancholy that overcomes his voice ever so slightly now. “Nowadays I just leave him at my mom’s whenever I go hiking.”

“Oh,” you mutter while wrapping your fingers around the straps of your old backpack which you’ve dug up from the back of your sibling’s closet. Your grip tightens a bit as you add, “I’m sorry about that. I know how much you care about that dog.”

“I mean, it’s not like he’s dead or anything, hah,” he says, his chuckle kind of bitter. “He’s just a senior dog now, doing senior things. Nothing wrong with that, don’tcha think?”

“True,” you mumble, feeling guilty that you’d even asked the question in the first place. I mean, of course his puppy would be old by now. He's had him ever since he was seven, for crying out loud!

“So, anyway,” you say as you turn around to continue your way up the hill you’re practically yearning to reach the top of now, “you just go hiking alone, then? Since Akamaru stays at your mom’s?”

“Mostly, yeah,” he replies as he follows suit. You try not to pay attention to how attentive you are to his presence all of a sudden. “Before, it was usually just me and Tam, but now that—”

You pretend not to notice the way he cuts himself off mid-sentence the moment he accidentally mentions his ex-girlfriend’s name. Pretend that hearing it doesn’t make your chest feel a bit too tight all of a sudden, and not from lack of air or your rather poorly prowess in physical fitness.

“Uh,” he fumbles.

“Don’t you get scared, though?” you continue as if nothing has happened, helping him out. “Hiking all alone?”

If he’s grateful for your assistance, he doesn’t show it, because now he sounds genuinely confused as he says, “What is there to be scared of, exactly?”

His question makes you come to an abrupt stop. You turn your head to the side so that you can look at him over your shoulder. “What do you mean, ‘what is there to be scared of’? It’s a forest, Kiba.”

“So?” he replies, sounding even more confused.

“Are you being for real right now?” The blatantly puzzled look that settles onto his face puzzles you just as greatly in return, now. 

Especially when he says, “I’m not entirely sure how you want me to answer that.”

“Well, I don’t know,” you say. “What if there’s, like… a bear, or something?”

He snorts at your idea, making you feel like you’re stupid for even suggesting a thing like that in the first place. 

“What?” you fuss, glaring at him. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, it’s just that there aren’t any bears in these woods, dummy,” he answers, the last word kind despite if it’s usually meant as something derogatory.

You scoff, rolling your eyes for the millionth time today. “And how would you know that, oh, wise, all-knowing one?”

Kiba pauses as he smirks, rather resting his gaze onto a spot somewhere amongst the tree line instead of you. You catch the slight flutter of a muscle in his cheek as he grits his teeth and exhales.

His voice is low, but confident as he finally says, “Because around these parts, sweetheart, I’m the biggest predator. And luckily for us, bears tend to keep to themselves instead of picking fights with something that is much, much bigger than them.”

You’re not entirely sure if you want to know how big he can actually get, nor how far he’s actually able to see with those wolf eyes of his as he keeps on looking off into the greenery. His expression is one of the most complacent ones you’ve seen in a long while. 

Still, you manage just enough bravery to swallow the thick saliva that’s now started to gather inside your mouth so that you can ask, “So you’re saying that you can take a bear in a fight? Like an actual living, breathing bear?”

“I mean,” he drawls, shrugging in such a nonchalant way that it only pisses you off further, “it wouldn’t be the first time.”

Your eyes open wide as your heart drops to your fucking ass. “What?! Are you serious?”

“No, I’m joking.”

Dead silence meets him from your side at his bad take on a prank. And Kiba — foolish, brainless Kiba — can’t help but start laughing at the look of pure, unhinged fury that starts to twist your features now. It makes your nostrils outright flare like a bull’s that’s been irked for far too long.

He gets startled when you start stomping towards him, though.

“I’m sorry—” He begins walking backwards to cause more distance between himself and the wrath that is you, laughter still escaping his lips. “I didn’t think that you’d actually—”

You’re too angry at him to notice how good his balance actually is. He doesn’t trip once despite the fact that he’s blindly walking backwards on uneven terrain; much less loses his footing or actually falls over.

His abnormally honed sense of stability only drives you more mad. By the time you finally catch up to him and shove him by pressing both hands against his chest, the startled little yelp he lets out in response is barely satisfying.

“Hey, don’t do that; I’ll fall!”

“Good, because that’s what I was hoping for!”

“Oh, c’mon… Hey!” He comes to a stop, grabbing you by the wrist when you try to strike him for a second time. “I told you I was sorry, didn’t I?”

“Sorry? Sorry? Oh, go fuck yourself, you absolute dick,” you snap at his half-assed apology and are practically gritting your teeth whilst trying not to pay mind to how his touch practically sears your skin. “I hope a bear actually does come into these woods just so it can maul you into a million tiny little pieces!”

“Aha… I’d like to see it try.” His eyes burn like a furnace when he says that. It’s even worse when he yanks on your wrist and pulls you closer, as if to prove a point.

The fire within subdues your own flames in an instant. It makes you lose your edge.

“You— You— Ugh!” The slight upturn of your nose almost comes across as snobbish as you whip your head away from him in one sharp movement and shove him again with your free hand, causing his grip to break free, but not because you want it to. “Go away.”

Watching you with profound amusement, Kiba thinks all your worrying is to die for.

Nothing’s really changed, now has it?

And as a result, the smile in his voice is almost unbearably audible as he hurries after you the moment you start walking again. Your pace has become much faster than it was before, but he has no trouble whatsoever in catching up. 

He’s right behind you as he says, “I was just fucking with you a lil’ bit, can you blame me?” 

“Oh, yeah,” you retort coldly, still not looking at him. “I most definitely can.”

“Christ, don’t be like that, bunny,” he says, nudging you in the shoulder with the help of his palm. 

The touch, mostly platonic and what you’d consider meant to be purely reassuring in nature, nevertheless causes your entire body to end up becoming overly tense instead. This is the second time that goosebumps outright tighten your skin as his fingers slide down and graze your shoulder blade, as well as one of the backpack’s straps before letting go. 

It’s hard to walk the path like a normal person, when every time he touches you feels like he’s leaving you burning in his wake.

“Are we cool now?” he asks when you don’t bother replying. You simply can’t.

“No, we’re not ‘cool’, you moron. Fuck you,” you answer when he nudges you for a second time, still fuming. Better yet, you’re the exact opposite from cool.

“Mm,” he hums, seemingly deep in thought. You think that he’s finally going to leave you alone, however, much to your dismay, not even a minute of quiet passes before he’s opening his mouth again, asking, “Wanna tell me why you’re so mad?”

“Gee, I wonder; maybe because you’ve got me losing my shit in the middle of the goddamn woods?” You scowl at him before pointing your gaze back onto the ground so that you can avoid falling onto your ass at the worst moment. “I mean honestly, how stupid can you get to even ask me that?”

“Well—”

“Don’t answer that!”

“Okay. Okay.” Kiba forces himself to stop the slight, upward curl of his lips at your agitated tone. This is not a laughing matter; or at least that is what he keeps telling himself for your sake. “What do you want me to do, then?”

“I want you to go away,” you repeat, exasperated at how he’s obviously fighting every urge to laugh at your bitter attitude. 

As is expected, he pays you no mind and instead keeps following after you like he’s a dog tied to a leash that your hand holds. You can hear his footsteps trailing closely behind. “And where am I supposed to go, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I don’t know,” you mumble, frowning. “Just go!”

“But I don’t wanna.”

“Well, I don’t give a shit.”

“Well, I don’t give a shit that you don’t give a shit.”

“Fine!” You huff, a certain kind of tightness in your expression when you look at him. “Fine. I’ll go, then!”

“And where are you gonna go, huh? There isn’t a single inch of these woods that I don’t know like the back of my hand.” He looks at you, his eyes glimmering with a subtle yellow shade instead of their usual brown. “I’ll just track you down like I always do.”

With the expectant, borderline mischievous look he dares you with now, he reminds you of an overexcited puppy. 

Damn him. You’re not sure if you’re irked or envious by how unpredictable and free-spirited he is.

It only makes you angrier.

“I don’t know, Kiba,” you fuss, looking away and pinching the bridge of your nose to save yourself from getting flustered all over again. “Probably somewhere far away from you, because to be completely honest, you’re annoying the utter, living crap outta me right now, okay?”

He stares at you for a couple of seconds, paying mind to the way your voice cracks midway. You’re clearly upset, frustrated, perhaps even overwhelmed by the way he keeps one-upping you with every sentence.

It prompts him to walk closer to where you stand. To lean into your space, carefully reach out and pry your hands away from your face so that he can give you that same look that he’d given you all those years ago when he’d been sick and you were swinging by his house every single day after school. 

The one that’s completely, utterly riddled with an emotion you cannot bring yourself to understand even to this day.

“God, what do you want now?” you ask, your gaze still persistently avoidant.

“I want to apologize,” he says, this time completely serious. When you look up, he continues, “I know that I can be… a lot to handle at times, and—” 

You purse your lips, mumbling under your breath, “Yeah, well, a lot is an understatement when it comes to you.”

He chuckles, huffing a laugh. “Okay, smartass; shush. I wasn’t done talkin’ yet.”

You glower at the way he shushes you, but otherwise keep silent.

“Now, where was I? Oh, yeah. I also know that it drives you up the wall when I’m a lot, so… yeah. I’ll tone it down, but you also gotta stop worrying so damn much, okay? It ain’t good for ya.”

“What do you mean by that?” you ask.

“What I mean is that you’re just always actin’ so goddamn uptight, bunny; I can sense it! So just… try and relax for once, yeah? Allow yourself to enjoy something that’s a lil’ bit spontaneous. Go fuckin’ crazy, go wild; all that good shit, ya know?” he says, and all of a sudden he’s resting both big palms on your shoulders, shaking you gently as if trying to rid you of your nerves. “Deal?”

“I wasn’t… worrying.” Your heartbeat quickens at the doubtful look he gives you next. “But yeah. Yeah, okay. Deal. Going crazy, going wild; woo…”

You’re soap-sliver thin. Transparent. Ever the complicator. That ‘woo’ was pitiful.

But it’s a start.

“Attagirl, there she is,” he says as he ruffles your hair and fixes his backpack back into place. It encourages you to do the same with your own while he slips by you and walks a couple steps ahead, letting you breathe again. “Now let’s go. We’re almost there, but I wanna get the tent ready before the sun gets the chance to set.”

“Tent?” you mumble, following after him. “As in… singular?”

“Yeah?” This time it’s his turn to look at you over his shoulder. “What, did you think that I was gonna carry two of ‘em on my back? We’re sharing; it’s easier.”

Thump, thump, thump!

“Oh. Um.” You swallow hard as you rub the spot where your heart lies with a sweaty hand. “Okay.”

He’s quiet for a second. And then he asks, “Does that make you uncomfortable…? ‘Cause at the end of the day, I can always sleep outside. I just thought it’d be—”

“No, we’re good,” you say, cutting him off. “I don’t mind.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah. I mean, it’s not like we haven’t slept together before,” you say. And nearly choke on your own words. “Wait! Wait, I-I meant like, you know, like back when we were younger.”

Thump, thump, thump, thump!

God, you’re thankful that he’s walking ahead of you so that he can’t see you experiencing your meltdown.

Kiba seems to ignore your little hiccup, because all he says now is, “Positive?”

You take a deep breath. Exhale. Clear your head just enough to ask, “What’s with all the questions all of a sudden…?”

“Nothin’,” he mumbles, his posture straight. “I just wanna make sure you’re cool with it.”

“Yeah, well all it’s doing is making me feel nervous again.”

“Oh, shit; okay, okay!” He turns to look at you again, his eyes wide. “We’re relaxing, we’re chilling… Look at the pretty nature, look at the trees! So zen, right? Real ‘live, laugh, love’ type of shit right here, yes, ma’am!”

Eventually, his rambling makes timid laughter echo throughout the forest.

What an idiot.

———

Ever since you’ve set up camp and settled on the small clearing on top of the hill, you’ve learned three things.

One, the stars are a beautiful sight that stretches far and beyond the inky sky when there’s not as much light pollution present to dim them out. 

Two, your best friend is a master when it comes to putting up a tent and starting a campfire.

And three, he can also whip up some really, I mean really mean s’mores.

That last one is why you’re practically humming whilst you sit by the fire that night; dressed in your favourite hoodie and continuously licking droplets of melted chocolate off your fingertips with utmost delight.

With his dark irises adorned with dancing orange flames, Kiba’s eyes can best be described as blazing when he looks up at you.

“Whath?” you mumble, mouth full of marshmallows.

“Easy there, tiger,” he taunts. “Leave some for the rest of us, will ya?”

“Leave me alone,” you answer just as lightheartedly when you swallow. Finally willing yourself to relax, your voice sounds muffled because of how you pop the tip of your thumb out of your overly-sweet mouth, “As if you didn’t eat like six of them already.”

“I ate six ‘cause I’m a big fella with an even bigger appetite,” he counters immediately. “What’s your excuse?”

“Well, if you must know,” you brush him off with a rather sassy flick of the wrist. “I’m ovulating right now and it makes me hungrier than usual.”

Just as you’ve expected, Kiba splutters and nearly drops the bottle he’d just been drinking water out of. A series of coughing and choking noises ensue that make it very hard to hide your satisfaction.

By the time he manages to collect himself, you’re still musing. “You okay there, Inuzuka?”

“Christ,” he says, his voice so hoarse that it forces him to clear his throat for a second time around. 

“What?”

“Nothing.” He swallows hard, Adam’s apple bobbing like always. “It’s just that you don’t have to be so upfront about it.”

“Um, okay…? I was just joking, you know... Didn’t think you’d take it as seriously as you did.” Your upper lip quivers as you let out a quiet, almost self-deprecating laugh at the look of guardedness that crosses his face when you speak the words. 

It’s almost like he’s conflicted about how to act around you all of a sudden. 

And it’s also the reason why you can’t help but ask, “What’s the big deal, though? Does it gross you out or something?”

“No. Gosh, no,” he immediately says and for a second you swear that there’s a blush tinging his already sun-kissed cheeks when he turns to look at the fire instead of you. 

He seems to be struggling with finding the right thing to say as he runs his hands up and down his knees and brings them closer to his chest. “You know I’m not like that. It’s just that… well, I don’t wanna think about it, is all. About you, in that kind of way, I mean.”

He can’t risk it because he can still remember the scent of it from way back when he was seventeen. Can still remember how dangerously good it smelled 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

[uchiha-archives]

Eternal Love

Summary: Nobody loves as intensely as an Uchiha, and no Uchiha loves as intensely as Uchiha Madara. He will bring this world to its knees just to avenge her and to be reunited with her again, and as far as he’s concerned, he will succeed. Damn anyone who dares to get in his way.

Genre: Marriage!AU, Established Relationship!AU, Uchiha Couple!AU, Reanimation Jutsu!AU, Fluff!AU, Fluff-Smut!AU, Angst!AU (Barely Any Angst, Just Some Sprinkles - Happy Endings All Around)

Pairings: Uchiha Madara x Wife! Reader, Uchiha Madara x Uchiha! Reader

Warnings: Possessiveness/Protectiveness (Very Mild), Death and Mentions of Death (Mainly Flashbacks), Reanimation of the Dead, War/Conflict (No Matter the Era), Fighting/Mild Violence

Word Count: 8,303

Written: October 27th, 2023, Posted: November 30th, 2023

When you opened your eyes, you weren’t expecting to be greeted by a boy you didn’t recognize with red eyes that you just knew were the Sharingan.

You instinctively raised your guard and as soon as you could feel yourself get in full control of your body you activated your own Eternal Mangekyou Sharingan and took a step back, ready to counter if necessary. You had to be prepared, - your vision was still blurry from being woken up and everything was still slightly disorienting even with the Sharingan but you couldn’t let your opponent see that.

Once your vision started to come back into focus you took a quick look around your surroundings and saw Hashirama and Tobirama, standing alongside who you knew to be Hiruzen, the Third Hokage, and a blonde man you didn’t recognize. A little further behind were a few more people you also didn’t recognize, but the hand sign that the pale one held in place let you know that they were one to reanimate you.

You let go of the annoyance you felt at someone using that Jutsu and refocused, looking until your gaze found the boy from earlier whose red eyes you woke to. What you saw made you let out a small gasp. “… Izuna…? Is that you, Izuna?” You took a small step further, your brows furrowing, before you paused. “No, your Chakra is different. But there’s no denying, you look just like him.” You spoke with a small smile on your face, stepping a little closer. You knew it was mostly impossible to see Izuna in the world of the living again but this boy’s face gave you a large burst of optimism.

“Just as smart as I’ve read you to be, the great Uchiha Y/N. You’ve already read everyone’s Chakra signatures beforehand to be prepared in case of battle. What a brilliantly tactical move, as expected from your caliber.” You looked back towards the pale man with the long black hair, your anger growing again before you narrowed your eyes at the younger Senju brother.

“Tobirama,” your voice was calm but extremely firm, “I thought I told you never to use this Jutsu. I also recall telling you that this should never be documented. For this exact reason,” you emphasized. You created the Reanimation Jutsu. It was something you made in a dark time of your life that still hurt you to think about.

It was lovely in your ancestral Uchiha home, passed down from your family for as long as they could remember. It was the same house you lived in with your husband. You enjoyed the happiness that you felt every day, until it felt like it just started to go down from there. Your clan always at war with the Senju clan, the death of your brother-in-law that started your husband’s spiral, your husband’s defection from the village, and ultimately, his death. It broke you in more ways than you could explain.

When the Senju brothers came to your home to tell you of your husband’s death, you almost collapsed on the spot in grief and rage. The younger brother starts your husband’s path of revenge by killing your brother-in-law, and the older brother ends it along with your beloved husband’s life. They had officially taken everything from you.

It took a lot of time, and a lot of understanding, but you learned not to blame the Senju brothers for what had happened to Izuna and Madara. It hurt you every single day, but you just learned to live with it, burying yourself in your work and missions to compensate. It was on one of these days where you were working on a new Jutsu that you invented when Tobirama offered to join and help if you taught it to him. You allowed him as he did not ask you any questions, simply offering his presence in your mourning, never questioning your judgement or your decisions.

When you believed the Jutsu to be complete, you could tell immediately that it was not something that should be used. It was cruel in nature and you ultimately felt that it went against your morals and also the way of an honorable Kunoichi. It was a Jutsu that would not let the dead lay in final rest, instead waking them up in a cold and shrewd manner, letting the caster control the freedom of those that have crossed over to another world. It was unnatural, wrong.

You were desperate to bring back your husband, and you were willing to try anything. But this, you remember thinking as you saw your Jutsu at work, this is not how I want him back. And so, you made Tobirama swear to never record it and let this die with the both of you. Nobody needed to know that something like this was ever possible in this world. Clearly, he didn’t listen.

“I told you that that was a bad idea, Tobirama. Although, it is very good to see you, Y/N.” Hashirama let out a laugh as he patted your shoulder, letting Tobirama continue to sulk behind him as he tried to duck away from your glare, - just as intimidating as the rest of your clan, Tobirama rubbed at his neck.

“I-I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t write down all of it, I made sure I kept it recorded as an incomplete Jutsu just for good measure. I completely removed a few of the sections that took me weeks to figure out. With what was left in the scrolls, nobody should’ve been able to correctly perform it.” Tobirama tried to alleviate his mistake but the pale one spoke again, drawing your eyes to him.

“It was not a hard Jutsu to make sense of, Lord Second.” He smiled in a way that put you on edge, like he was someone to always be wary of. You let it go for now, knowing you couldn’t do anything about it at this moment, and instead embraced Hashirama.

“No point dwelling on it now. It is good to see you, old friend. You as well, Tobirama,” you called out to the younger Senju who gave you a small smile. “Hiruzen, you’ve aged,” you jested as the man you knew to be the admirable Third Hokage let out a laugh.

“And you are just as beautiful as ever, Lady Y/N.” You gave him a gentle smile before turning to regard the man with the blonde hair and the blue eyes. He was new, a man you did not recognize, and yet you could see the trustworthiness in his eyes. He was a good man, you could tell. Not an ounce of malevolence in his Chakra at all.

“I apologize, but I do not recognize you.” You gave him the room to introduce himself.

“Ah!” The man exclaimed before turning around and pointing to the letters on his coat, “I am the Fourth Hokage, Lady Y/N. My name is Namikaze Minato, an honor to meet the Queen of the Uchiha clan in person.” He was a gentle soul. You smiled at him, giving him a gentle bow of your head to show you respected him. He seems like he made an honorable Hokage.

“Eh?!” You all turned your head to see a woman with bright red hair looking at you in shock. A woman of the Uzumaki clan, you assumed from her red-hot hair and her large levels of Chakra. “What do you mean the ‘Queen of the Uchiha clan’?!”

“She’s the legendary Kunoichi, Uchiha Y/N! How can you not tell, Karin?” It was another boy with white hair and sharp teeth that spoke. From Kirigakure, you could tell by his unique features.

“Suigestu is correct, Karin. And another very important fact: She is Uchiha Madara’s wife. Hence the title of Queen.” The Uchiha boy spoke.

“Wait, if you’re the Fourth,” Hashirama started, “then who’s the Fifth Hokage?”

“It’s your granddaughter, Princess Tsunade,” the pale one replied, making you huff out a laugh as Hashirama started sweating. You had good memories of that sweet girl. She was still extremely young at the time of yours and Tobirama’s passing, - far too young to probably have any recollection of you. However, you still appreciated the Senju brothers for treating you like family, and you’ve never forgotten the first moment you held Tsunade as Hashirama asked you to be her godmother. It was a title you took great pride in.

“Tsuna, huh?” Hashirama looked at you sheepishly as you chuckled. “She was my first grandchild, and she was Y/N’s goddaughter. So we both spoiled her rotten. She even picked up my gambling habit, hahahahaha!” You and Tobirama shook your head at the older Senju.

“Alright,” you called out, “enough for now. I have only two things to ask of you.” You took another step forward before pointing to the Uchiha in front of you. “Firstly, who is this boy?” You then dropped your hand back down before addressing everyone. “And secondly, why have you resurrected us?”

“I am Orochimaru, I am the one who resurrected all of you. This boy,” the pale one spoke as he referred to the Uchiha in front of you, “is Uchiha Sasuke. And he has a few questions for all of you.”

“Is that you, Sasuke?” Hiruzen took a step forward. So he’s from Hiruzen’s time, you figured it was during his second time as Hokage as he had quickly filled you in. He seemed extremely young, this Sasuke. You didn’t dwell on it too long when the boy started to ask you and the others questions about being a Shinobi, about being a part of a clan, a part of a village.

You narrowed your eyes at him. He’s seen a lot, and he’s been troubled by a lot. It’s obvious in not only the exhaustion in his eyes but also in the Eternal Mangekyou Sharingan you see glowing, - this boy has suffered his whole life. You knew he wanted answers from not just the Hokages but also from you, because as he spoke he maintained clear eye contact with you the entire time. His gaze pleaded for reason, something to hear that would just make sense. For now though, you would let the past leaders of Konoha speak their pieces, - nobody can doubt their experience in these matters.

“Can we please hurry this up? The Fourth Shinobi War is going on and we do not have a lot of time. The sooner you answer Sasuke’s questions the sooner we can be on the move,” Orochimaru stepped up, making Tobirama lose his calm. As quick as always to anger…

“Why are we here answering meaningless questions when we are needed on the battlefield?!” He always needed Hashirama to keep him in check. And he still does, you mused as you watched him finally step away from the wall after a word from his older brother.

“Always conflict no matter what the era,” Hashirama sighed as you gave him an understanding smile. You gave a look back to the group.

“Which nations are fighting this war?” Everyone knew that you and Tobirama perished in the First Shinobi War, and while you were still reeling from the fact that three more happened after it, you also wanted to know the seriousness of it as well as its threat to the Land of Fire and Konohagakure.

“Actually, Lady Y/N…” Orochimaru seemed to hesitate, and he absolutely refused to look you in the eyes. You narrowed your eyes at him before moving them to the young Uchiha who held your gaze instead of cowering.

“Sasuke, tell me what is going on. Now,” you demanded. Sasuke let out a sigh before staring at you for a moment. He spoke calmly, but the news that he delivered was enough to make anyone cower in fear. Not you, though.

“Uchiha Madara,” Sasuke started, “has been revived by the Reanimation Jutsu, and he is currently trying to place the entire world under a Genjutsu of unimaginable magnitude.”

“Why?” Your question was a simple one. “Why is he trying to do this?”

“Uchiha Madara did not, in fact, die during his battle with Lord First.” Orochimaru spoke again. “Instead, he was seriously injured, and lived till the end of his days in hiding. He has had years to plan this battle.”

You looked at him in shock. All this time, he had been alive? Living in hiding? He was alone all this time. You looked down in sadness. We were supposed to grow old and grey together, and yet I die soon and he spends all his years by himself. All your time alive you were grieving what you thought to be the loss of your husband, lashing out and destroying, when instead you could have spent your time with him had you known.

You felt a hand on your shoulder, it was Hiruzen, a man who knew how your mind worked. “There was no way you could have known, my Lady.”

“He has waged a war against all five of the nations. They have come together to form the Shinobi Alliance and now try to fight together against Madara as we speak. He does all of this, for you, my Lady.” You looked at Orochimaru again before looking to Sasuke as if asking if it was true. Sasuke gave you a nod.

“Madara says that he wants to end all wars and all bloodshed. He calls his Genjutsu the Infinite Tsukuyomi, - to put the entire world in a permanent dream state. He is a man that grows angrier and more desperate. He misses you,” Orochimaru said. “And he’s willing to destroy the world for it.”

“His rage is from Y/N’s death in the First Shinobi War,” Hashirama figured out. “Since then, there have been two more that he has observed and so, this fourth one will be Madara’s supposed war to end all wars.”

“The Infinite Tsukuyomi is Madara’s plan to create a world of his own with only love and peace and happiness, as he explained it. He feels rage at the thought of a war being the reason that he lost his brother and then his wife. He believes he can create a better world this way, where everybody can have their own world within consisting of what makes them happiest.” Orochimaru’s explanation was brief and to the point. “His turning point was hearing of your death while he was in hiding, my Lady.”

You put a hand on each of the Senju brothers’ shoulders as you looked back at the boy you’ve come to know as Sasuke. “Alright, let’s tell him what he wants to know. I believe the sooner we explain, the sooner we can help in the frontlines,” you urged the Hokages to sit down beside you. “And the sooner I can see my husband,” you finished off with a smile, making everyone give you an exhausted look. You and Madara were always a love-sick couple, known by those who lived in your time and those who read about you in scrolls and records.

“Alright, we understand what it is you ask us of, young one.” Hashirama always made people feel open to speak their mind. “You want to know about what it means to be a Shinobi? A part of a clan? A part of a village? We’ll tell you.”

You listened quietly as Hiruzen and the two Senjus explained the village’s history to Sasuke, and you watched the changes in Sasuke’s expressions. It also gave you a chance to listen to what has happened since your own passing as well. The stories you heard made you sad. Uchiha Itachi, the man who sacrificed his family and his life for Konohagakure. For Konohagakure and for his little brother. An admirable Shinobi, you agreed. As was the Fourth Hokage and his own wife, giving their lives for the village.

It hurt to know that the boy you saw in front of you was the last of your clan, - an entire bloodline just wiped out. But you respected Itachi for doing the work nobody else was willing to do. He took the fall for the Elders of the village that were too cowardly to even admit to their own actions and decisions. In a way, Itachi reminded you of Madara, willing to sacrifice for his younger brother. Always protecting him, making sure he was safe within the village, helping him grow stronger, trying to lead him on the right path.

You continued to simply listen as Hashirama and Tobirama told Sasuke of the history between the Uchiha and the Senju. He spoke of your husband with the same fondness in his heart that he held for him all those years ago. But when the Hokages were finished, Sasuke sat in silence. He then slowly stood, letting out a sigh before looking at you.

“And what of you, Lady Y/N? You are the only one who has not yet spoken a word to me. I want to hear your opinion.” Sasuke spoke plainly.

“I have seen you listen intently to the opinions of honorable Hokages through the generations.” You spoke as you also started to stand, “What would you do with mine? I was a Kunoichi of Konoha, and I was a wife to a loving man,” you stated with pride making the two you now knew by the names of Karin and Suigetsu in the back of the room look at you with shock. “My experiences are limited to my life, not to the ones of others. I do not see what you would benefit from hearing my thoughts in this situation.”

“You are an Uchiha from legend, from stories that I would hear from my brother very often. You understand love, happiness, the feeling of contentment. You understand desperation, anger, grief, the loss of a loved one. You must have felt pain like mine when you heard of your husband’s death, especially when it came at the hands of Lord First. I want to know what made you stay. Like my brother, you’ve given for the village in blood, and yet you stayed loyal to the very same village until your dying breath. You are drastically stronger than me. You could beat me even without using either of your hands, which means you had the ability to bring the village down if you really wanted to, but you didn’t do it.” You looked at him with a gentle smile before walking up to him and placing a hand on his cheek. He simply stayed staring into your eyes, now black as his without the Sharingan.

“My husband is angry, - broken, hurt. He has lost much in his life. This village has brought me happiness. Hashirama and Tobirama are people I consider my closest friends, and Sarutobi was a brilliant student. All of these make up a village and a Shinobi. Love, bonds, sacrifice, dedication. My husband felt all of these up until he felt like he was cast away by them.” You gently spoke. “I felt the support of my bonds when I was at my lowest, grieving and in rage at Madara being gone.” You turned to look at your friends. “Hashirama and Tobirama may have fought against my husband, but they stood by me when I was alone. I have fought for this village and given it everything that I have. I am nothing without it. But even if I could go back, I would not change that. I found the love of my life in Konoha, and I was able to marry him and lead a happy life until his death. Or rather, what I thought to be his death. I also remember thinking about how I was protecting him with every mission I would take on, no matter how little. Madara has always watched over me, always kept me safe, and it made me happy that by keeping Konoha safe, I was keeping my beloved safe as well, whether or not he ever really needed my protection,” you finished off with a nostalgic laugh.

Sasuke stared at you for a few moments, before suddenly, for the first time since seeing him a couple of hours ago, you saw him give you a small smile. It was heartwarming to see, especially when he looked like the kind of person who rarely smiles. It showed you he understood your words. He could relate. He understood keeping someone’s legacy alive in your heart. He could see it. You knew he could.

“I won’t let what Itachi stood for go to waste. I won’t let Konoha waste away. We’re going to the battlefield.” Sasuke’s eyes shone with determination. A determined and motivated Uchiha is as dangerous to his opponent as he is unstoppable, you knew, and you were proud of this young boy who has learned to work through his conflicts. Your clan was known for burying their emotions deep down as an act of what they thought to be concealing their weaknesses. However in reality, they only make themselves weaker, instead. They forget that their Sharingans are a window into their heart. It reflects the soul and that is how it is not only awakened, but also grown into higher levels, - even the Eternal Mangekyou. They forget what their eyes represent once they awaken their full potential.

“Now we’re talking!” Hashirama was excited. And as you all jumped through the air, you heard him again. “It may sound odd, but I am excited to see my old friend!” Tobirama sighed at his older brothers words while you smiled back at him.

“I understand. It has been decades since I’ve seen my love. I miss him,” you said with a fond smile while the one you’ve come to know as Suigetsu looked at you like you were crazy.

“Forgive me, Lady Y/N, but you talk about him like you guys are love-sick puppies at the Ninja Academy!” Suigetsu let out a breath in absolute disbelief while Tobirama chuckled.

“Madara may be dangerous, and he may be frightening to most. However, seeing him interact with Y/N puts him in a rare perspective that not many have witnessed first hand. This is something even I cannot deny.” Suigetsu shook his head at the Second Hokage’s words and decided that he wouldn’t get it, ever.

Meanwhile, Naruto was letting Sakura heal him when he saw two people land right in front of him. He let out a gasp as he saw his father and a woman. He couldn’t help but stare at her. She was gorgeous, - black hair, black eyes, dressed like a true warrior, proudly wearing the Uchiha symbol- wait what?

He stared in shock as she shared a laugh with his father. “Not bad, Lord Fourth, but I think I beat you by just that little second!” And he couldn’t believe his eyes at his father poking fun back at her.

“Ah, I must be getting old, my Lady.” What?! ‘My Lady?!’ Naruto stayed looking back and forth at the two interacting until his father turned around to regard him. “Naruto! Hope we’re not too late!”

“Nevermind that, Dad! Who is this? Why is she wearing the Uchiha symbol? Is there another Uchiha person alive?! Again?! Why’re you being so formal with her!?!” Naruto’s mind was going faster than his mouth could keep up and it took Sakura giving him a solid knock on the head to make him stop.

“Geez, Naruto! That’s Uchiha Y/N,” she explained as she continued healing him. “She’s known as the Queen of the Uchiha clan, she’s from way before your dad was Hokage. She’s Uchiha Madara’s wife!” That made Naruto freak out again. Why was Sakura so calm about this? Wasn’t Madara’s wife a bad factor to add to this war? Madara was bad enough as it is, and he didn’t want to know what fighting the woman called the Queen of the Uchiha clan would also entail.

“This is why you pay attention during Iruka Sensei’s lectures,” Sakura sighed out before explaining yours and Madara’s past to Naruto as quickly as she could.

As Naruto listened to the end of Sakura’s explanation, he saw the Third Hokage land carefully on his feet. “You’re both as fast as ever, Minato, Lady Y/N.” He then saw who he knew to be the Senju brothers Hashirama and Tobirama also land.

“We never could beat you, Y/N!” Hashirama laughed out as he stood next to his younger brother. Naruto then froze as Y/N turned to regard him, giving him one of the kindest smiles he’s ever seen directed at him in his life, and he knew that that kind of genuineness cannot be faked. You were trustworthy.

“Don’t worry,” you spoke, “your friend is also on his way.” And Naruto closed his eyes. Sasuke. He must have something to do with your reanimation, he knew.

“Hey, um, big sister Y/N?” Naruto called out, making you look at him in shock, a familiar warmth curling into your chest. Nobody had called you that since Izuna, and it brought an involuntary smile to your lips. You gave a nod to encourage him to continue. “Not that I’m doubting you or anything, big sister, but uh, how exactly do you plan on stopping your extremely crazy and concerningly bloodthirsty husband?” You let out a loud laugh at his words while his father panicked at the way he was addressing Madara in front of you. This kid has no filter - doesn’t even know what a filter is - , and you absolutely loved it. He spoke to you as honestly as if you were really his big sister and it made you adore him. If this was Sasuke’s closest friend, then he has chosen well, they are both perfectly balanced halves, like Yin and Yang.

“You have a lovely son, Lord Fourth.” You told a worried Minato before turning back to the blond kid in front of you. “And Naruto, your father told me you wanted to become Hokage. I think- No, I know you will succeed. You have good friends,” you said as you looked around, “and you have a good heart. Not even the sky is your limit, Ninja of Konoha.”

You can tell this kid wears his heart on his sleeve, and so you could have anticipated the hug. What you couldn’t have anticipated was for him to run forward and squeeze whatever temporary life was flowing through you out of your lungs in his hug. Now this was one life-changing hug.

“What on earth did I miss?” You turned to see Sasuke staring at you in amazement. It seems you were a bit of a crowd favourite already, - all of his past comrades from Konoha were gathered around you, looking at you in awe or wonder, sometimes both. He assumes someone, most probably Sakura, must have explained your past and your goals. The initial reaction to hearing your lengthy title and name is always fear, until they have a conversation with you.

“Sasuke!” Sakura shouting out his name had you a little surprised, but as you watched their exchange you could see that the Kunoichi was enamored with him. You left Sasuke and Naruto to their conversation with their friends while you walked over to your own, quickly gauging the battlefield and all of the warriors, - it was an absolute mess. A man by the name of Hatake Kakashi was quick to bring you and the Hokages up to speed on everything that’s happened, including the involvement of another Uchiha by the name of Obito, Lord Fourth’s student.

“As far as I know, however, Obito’s actions are influenced by Madara,” Kakashi explained as he recalled to you and the others what Obito had told him of his survival in a past accident.

“I’m going to go towards the back, I want a larger view of this mess. Just give me a few moments,” you said as you jumped away. Hashirama gave you a quick thumbs up to acknowledge your words as they continued to listen to Kakashi’s information, - the Senju brothers have seen you do this often.

You could see well from your initial spot, but the terrain was uneven and you always worked better once you got a full view of your surroundings with your Sharingan. It gave you better mobility and helped you avoid any hesitation during combat. If you always knew where to step and what direction to move in, you didn’t even have to take your eyes off of the enemy.

This was actually a tactic that you also showed your husband during one of your sparring sessions together. You both would always choose new locations and alternate in memorizing the location. If it was Madara’s turn, you wouldn’t memorize that day’s terrain choice, and vice versa. This helped you both see the difference in combat efficiency. Perhaps that has been far too effective against the Shinobi Alliance, you thought sheepishly as you recalled Kakashi’s words of always seeing Madara have the higher ground in confrontations, looking down on everyone.

As you were letting your eyes memorize the terrain, your heart stopped at a yell you heard. It’s been decades since you’ve heard that voice. And to hear it again in person instead of in your dreams was a breathtaking feeling that you simply could not define, even if it wasn’t directed at you, specifically.

“I’ve been waiting for you, Hashirama!” He called out, and you heard the excitement in his voice. It brought a smile to your face, - those two were always inseparable, it’s nice to see even that cannot change.

Meanwhile, Hashirama looked up to see Madara staring down at him with anticipation. He let out a sigh, is this the time she chooses to disappear? Tobirama, as if reading his brother’s mind, also sighed out. Your timing is impeccable, Y/N.

Where is that woman when you need her? The Senju brothers were really trying to avoid a full out battle with Madara at this point when it was so unnecessary.

Hashirama pointed his finger at Madara as he called out, “I’ll deal with you later!” And the older Senju brother watched as Madara visibly deflated a little in disappointment before patiently sitting down, shaking his head as he did. Some things never change. Hashirama then turned around, pointing his finger at the Ten-Tailed Beast, “First, I have to stop the Ten-Tails, because it’s charging right at us!”

“Where the hell did big sister go?!” Naruto was absolutely stressed knowing the one person who could help stop this now was not here for some godforsaken reason. “She’s the only person who’s going to have any actual effect on Uchiha Madara and she’s just gone?!”

“Stay calm, Naruto,” Minato spoke calmly, “we just have to keep the Ten-Tails occupied. Once she returns we’ll have the extra power and also the weapon to reason with Madara.” He then turned and gave a smile to his son and his son’s friends. “Don’t worry. If she is anything like what I’ve read about her, then Uchiha Madara will listen. So far, she has more than proven herself, and I have faith that she can help. I have also heard from the First and Second Hokages that she is the only human whose opinion and emotions Madara genuinely values.”

“Now, everyone!” Tobirama spoke, “Just hold off until she returns! Keep the Ten-Tails at bay, and do not risk yourself in attempting to counter any of its moves. We simply hold it off for as long as needed!”

Sasuke and Naruto were already off atop their summonings as Sakura stayed behind with her own summoning to heal those that were injured in the area. The rest of their comrades also dispersed to help contain the situation while Madara simply sat atop the cliff, observing their movements. He didn’t bother listening to whatever they discussed, dismissing it as futile attempts to strategize. Naturally, it would fail against me, Madara scoffed out a quiet laugh.

Hashirama thought this would be a good time for him and his fellow Hokages to go and have some semblance of a civil conversation with his old friend while they kept the situation at bay. “Madara!” He called out as him and his comrades landed on the cliff top behind the seated Uchiha.

“Oh? Ready to face me now, Hashirama?” Madara could feel his blood pumping. He’s been dying for a rematch with the Senju man.

“Actually, I wanted to talk. My friend, there is nothing to gain from this.” Hashirama hoped he’d see reason.

“There is everything to gain from this.” Madara countered his friend easily. “In the Infinite Tsukuyomi, there will be happiness. There will be peace. Everyone can love and be loved. How is this reality better than what I am offering?” Madara’s mind was clear.

“It would all still be a fake reality, Madara. None of your experiences would be real. The peace wouldn’t be real. The love wouldn’t be genuine. The happiness? It would be fake!” Hashirama wanted to get through somehow.

Madara was getting frustrated. “At least there would be happiness! At least there would be something worth living for within the Tsukuyomi.”

“There are reasons worth living for in the real world. You fight for them, and you hold on to it. That’s what makes it worth the suffering. There is happiness and love awaiting everyone in this world, Madara, and I thought you would understand that better than anyone else! Everyone that has walked this earth was given something worth living for, and it kept them going till the end of their days. Everyone deserves to experience the real world as it is with all of its ups and downs. That’s what makes it genuine. That’s what gives life value.” Hashirama hoped his friend would understand.

“I had a reason. I had love, happiness. I had it…” Madara looked down for a moment before looking back up again, eyes full of red-hot rage. “And she was taken from me!” He began shouting. “You took her from me! All of you!” He pointed at them, “You took my one happiness and my one love! First, I was separated from her and then you made sure she wasn’t even in the same plane of existence as me! She died fighting for these real experiences of yours. Anything in this world, including these values you preach about, Hashirama, are absolutely worthless without her. She was my only reason. The only one!” The Uchiha took a deep breath, “I refuse to live in any world or any reality without my wife, never again. And any world that has hurt my wife should simply not exist.” He activated his Susano’o, getting ready to fight, - he wouldn’t hear another word of this. He would not listen to another word defending this monstrosity of a world that took his beloved wife from him. His soulmate.

“Are you happy, elder brother?” Tobirama took a few steps back, “Now you’ve made him angry. The whole point of this was to stall him!”

“I know, Tobirama!” Hashirama let out a quiet curse as he prepared his hands for a countering Jutsu.

“Clearly you don’t know. He doesn’t seem to be very stalled from your tactics, elder brother!” Tobirama couldn’t stop the sarcasm that came flying out of his mouth in his current stress.

“Tobirama, now is absolutely not the time for this!” Hashirama backed away some more as Madara’s Susano’o pulled its sword out of the sheath and got into an offensive stance.

They didn’t think a conversation about love and happiness could go so bad so quickly. But then again, they should have anticipated it considering who it was they were having this conversation with.

Nobody loves as intensely as an Uchiha, Hashirama remembered saying to Sasuke. And no Uchiha has loved or will love as intensely as Uchiha Madara loves his wife. He’ll burn the world and bring her the ashes.

The Hokages braced themselves as Madara’s Susano’o charged forward, sword raised and about to come down for the strike, when suddenly, their surroundings went deathly quiet.

The Hokages breathed out a sigh of quick relief. Tobirama huffed, “By the Gods, Y/N! You couldn’t have cut it any closer if you tried!”

You don’t spare a glance back at the Hokages, though, simply keeping your eyes in front of you. You couldn’t help the smile building on your lips as you saw your husband. He was just as handsome as the last day you saw him, - with his Sharingan and his long hair and his eyes full of love for you. He always managed to make you feel loved. He was doing all of this, for you. Of course, it was questionable, but he was doing it for you. “My love,” you started, hearing yourself choking up. You couldn’t finish your sentence as you saw the shock finally leave your husband.

Madara couldn’t believe his eyes. His wife was here, in front of him, reanimated. He never thought he would see her again, and if he was ever reunited with her in the afterlife, it’s not like they would have any recollection of that in the present living moment, either. And so to see her now, he could do nothing but thank every entity he could think of that she created this Jutsu, regardless of the circumstances in which she did. He was not by her side in her dying breath and she wasn’t there with him as he grew old and frail, - the biggest regrets that Madara can think of from his time alive. “Y/N.” He released his Susano’o, taking long strides towards his wife.

You simply stood in place, still taking him in. You watched his large frame as he walked towards you, and you felt your breath leave you at the intensity with which he grabbed you. He held you close, a hand around your shoulders and another over the back of your head, as if trying to make sure you couldn’t go anywhere. You reached and wrapped arms around his neck, burying your face in his chest and letting a sob finally wrack through your body, finally feeling safe and like you belonged. You finally felt like you could let go and the one person your trusted would be there to catch you, - the only person you’ve ever trusted with your soul, and the only person you will ever trust.

“Y/N,” you closed your eyes as you heard your name fall from his lips, “my Y/N.” His words felt like velvet on your skin and like a melody through your ears.

“Madara,” you breathed out, making the Uchiha man let out a hum. He had been aching to hear your voice for decades. It had been so long since he’d heard you call out his name and to hear it again made him want to break down right there. “You left me,” he heard you whisper. You sounded so upset, and he felt his heart ache and fall apart all over again. Such simple words, but so strong in their meaning. “You left me alone.”

“My darling wife,” he gripped you tighter. “I am so, so sorry. I have no excuse for my actions. I was blind and a fool to have ever thought to leave you, because that is all one must be to ever think to let go of you,” he stated honestly. These were words from his core, ones he has never spoken aloud until now but has always had running in his head. He meant every bit of it. “I was… blinded. Blinded by the hate I felt, the need to avenge Izuna… All of it came to head at some point that I struggle to even remember now. And when I heard of your death, I lost all reason. All I could think of was the ways in which I could’ve kept you safe. I thought the only way to do so now would be to create a new world. A world in which we could be together again, a world in which you couldn’t get hurt. And you would never be hurt because this world would be ours to command as we so wished.” You sighed out gently before pulling away to cup his face in your hands. You gave your husband a smile, leaning to kiss his lips for a moment before resting your forehead against his.

“You never let your soul rest, even in death.” You sighed and you pressed your lips to his cheek. “My husband, my love.” You heard him hum gently. “All I ever needed was you. I don’t need the world because that is what you are to me. You are my world- No, my universe.”

Madara pulled away to look into your eyes, and you saw a vulnerable man right then, - the same one that had always bore his emotions freely to you and only you. He always let you see into his heart. And now, you saw a man who had mourned for his wife for decades. “You never did find peace, even in death. And it was my fault. If it weren’t for that, we could’ve been together all this time. I’m so sorry,” you said softly as you planted another kiss on his lips, “I’m so sorry for causing you so much pain,” you continued apologizing as Madara shook his head at you, a tear of his own falling.

“No,” he stopped you, grabbing your head with both hands to place a kiss on your forehead. “Never tell me it is your fault. I will not accept it. I chose this path, Y/N. I chose to stay in this world. I was blinded by rage and did not see what could have been - you and me, finally together, in eternity. Without restraints.” He held you close again, wrapping his arms around you as he tight as he could, and you did the same.

Naruto watched from a little further away, jaw on the floor, - not too different from the rest of the Shinobi that were present. He turned to Sasuke who was also unable to look away from the scene that seemed to come straight from a fever dream.

“Oi, Sasuke,” he nudged his friend, “Is this all we needed to do? We assembled the entire Shinobi world, formed an alliance, and suffered an unimaginable amount of casualties. All we needed to do,” he paused again, “this whole time, was get her?!” Sasuke’s eyes flashed at his extremely oblivious and extremely loud friend at both the noise level of his sentence and his way of addressing the Queen of the Uchiha clan. He tried to get him to stop when he saw Madara’s head whip around to regard the person who had addressed his wife so brazenly. Too late, Sasuke clenched his jaw.

It took Sasuke every bit of Chakra, - and the full extent of his Sharingan’s abilities, - to move as fast as he did in that moment, stepping in front of Naruto and summoning an arm of his Susano’o to block Madara’s fast approach towards the Uzumaki boy. Naruto let out a small scream as he stumbled back a bit, watching with fear in his eyes as Madara’s raging Sharingan stared into his very soul.

“Idiot,” Sasuke quietly bit out, “is there a single day where you paid attention at the Academy?”

“H-huh?” Naruto turned his head towards Sasuke but his eyes stayed watching the past head of the Uchiha clan that hasn’t backed down just yet. Or gotten far enough away for me to feel comfortable, Naruto thought to himself as he watched warily.

“You will address her, with the amount of respect that she deserves,” Madara ground out. “That woman is Uchiha Y/N. She is Queen of the Uchiha Clan, the Strongest Kunoichi in the Land of Fire, and my wife.”

“He did not know,” Sasuke ground out. The young Uchiha was at his wit’s end. Uchiha Madara was strict when it came to people respecting the Queen of the Uchiha clan. He demanded respect of everyone whether they were directly or indirectly addressing or mentioning her. It irked him that even Tobirama was as casual as he was with her. As far as Madara was concerned, the only person who could address Uchiha Y/N lovingly and without titles was him. “Everyone else would slander her name for they do not understand her worth,” Madara had once said. “They do not see the diamond that she is and I will make sure that they at least recognize that she is a treasure.”

“Madara,” you chastised as you walked towards him. “He’s a sweet boy, he means no harm. He doesn’t need to call me by my title because of who I once was. There are only two titles that have come with me past my life - Kunoichi of Konohagakure, and wife to an honorable man. That is all. Just a Kunoichi, and just a wife.” You spoke as wrapped your arms around his waist and placed your head on his chest. You felt your husband wrap his arms around you again and felt as he began to slowly relax. “There will be those stronger than me.”

“Not in my heart. I know you are the strongest there will ever be.” You let out a little laugh as you heard the stubbornness in your husband’s voice.

“I adore you,” you spoke to him with a smile, “But I am not too upset by what future awaits our clan.” You placed a hand on his cheek before turning to look at Sasuke. “He is a strong boy, with an honorable heart. Named after Hiruzen’s father. And while I believe you to always be the head of the clan in my heart,” you heard your husband let out a light laugh, “Sasuke will be a good leader.” The young boy gently bowed his head at you. “And I believe it will not be long before there are new heirs to the Uchiha clan, and the bloodline is restored,” you spoke with a grin.

Sasuke’s eyes slightly widened at you, before he quickly turned his head away and to the side. “Hn.” The noise he made caused you to let out a small laugh. A typical response from an Uchiha in a moment of speechlessness. And no matter how hard he tried, Sasuke would never be able to hide the pink in his cheeks from you.

“The clan is in capable hands,” you spoke as you turned and found Tsunade standing next to her grandfather and great uncle, “and so is the village, it seems.” Tsunade smiled at you, and you saw vague recognition in her eyes.

“I don’t remember you well, but I grew up hearing stories of you and how you were always by my side while you were alive. I’m proud to have such an amazing Kunoichi as my godmother.” You smiled at her and laid your head on your husband’s chest, feeling him bring a hand up to hold the back of your neck.

“Indeed, I must admit that the village is in respectable hands. She is… a strong woman.” Tsunade seemed shocked to hear words of praise coming from Madara’s mouth, but she was happy to hear it, regardless. She has certainly inherited Hashirama’s Will of Fire, Madara has only seen it so strong in his wife’s eyes until now. And she probably did inherit it from her godmother, Madara’s pride would not allow him to give Hashirama credit for something over his beloved.

You turned back to your husband, taking in a deep breath. “Well, my love? Shall we?” You saw Madara let out a long sigh before tightening his arms around you.

“Perhaps we are done here. I trust you lot can handle Obito?” Hatake Kakashi and his team nodded at Madara’s question. “Good,” your husband hummed. “I think I have some catching up to do with my wife. So much time lost… ” He ran a hand across your cheek.

You smiled, “Luckily, we have eternity to make it up.” You reached up and he met you halfway as he bent his neck, both of you joining your lips together in a kiss. The Senju brothers looked over at Orochimaru and gave him a nod to go ahead with releasing the Reanimation, and he did so quietly.

You could vaguely hear Naruto saying goodbye to his father. You could also make out the voices of the other Hokages talking to their own loved ones, giving them parting words of advice, confidence, pride, and love, - all of which you let fade into the background, focusing solely on your husband in front of you. You had him now, and you absolutely will not let go. You pressed your lips harder against his and felt as he let out a small moan, gripping you tighter to him. You would make sure that this next time you woke again in the after-life, he would be right beside you. You both can finally move on, together and in peace, having nothing to concern yourself with except each other. No war, no conflict, no clans, no rivalry, just a husband and wife finally being able to reach paradise together.

“Together, this time,” you spoke against his lips, feeling your body starting to fade.

“Together,” Madara whispered back to you.

And when you both opened your eyes again in the afterlife, you were still holding on to each other. Nothing would separate you two anymore, you wouldn’t let the forces of the universe get between the two of you anymore. Never again…

————————————————————

Hello and welcome to my blog, everyone! I’m so excited to finally get this first post out. I can’t wait to get more stories out, and I hope you guys enjoy this and any more that’ll come in the future! Thank you guys for reading all of it!

Any similarities to any other posts are purely coincidental and not intentional. Thank you all so very much~

[inside-lees-mind]

hi could i rq. general konoha 11 + sand siblings nsfw hcs ! (aged up/boruto ver obv) <3

Also: nobody understands Uchihas better than I do and I don’t even like most of em. /j Why are they all practically evil in fics? I’m going crazy. Most of them are clearly softies when it comes to love. Am I right or am I right???

And sorry, you can tell who I have more ideas for and who I was drawing a blank on.

Oh and sorry yall for the gap in my writing. This one took a while. I’ve been working on it for a bit. And part of it got lost and deleted, so I rewrote it. A long with a couple other stories got deleted and I lost some motivation for a moment lol

Konoha 13 + Sand Siblings HCs

Naruto Uzumaki

He’s energetic, and that 100% applies to in bed too.

Likely inexperienced, but eager. And a little nervous.

Talked big game beforehand, but even if you didn’t know before, you definitely know it was all talk now.

That being said, he’s a quick learner, even if he complains about being confused at first.

I think he’d have like little to no knowledge though, being such a loner for a while, in all. Hope you have patience.

That being said, he is a bit of a pervert with what he does know.

Overall though, he’d set a fast pace, but the sex would still be intimate and soft.

Praise. Praise. Praise. Giving and receiving.

Sasuke Uchiha

No experience, but he knows the ins and outs.

He wasn’t too concerned with sex or anything of that matter before, but when he returned to Konoha, he realized he had feelings for you. So he starts to think about it.

He’s not a pervert like Kakashi or Naruto, and he’d never lose his cool over sexy jutsu, BUTTT he’s secretly horny as hell. Like low sex drive usually, but just being around you makes it sky rocket to abnormal levels.

He’s very private about sex though, so usually only happens in your bedroom or… cough cough in a quiet forest with nobody around cough cough (if you know, you know)

He’s got a breeding kink. Next question.

Uses a mix of degradation and praises.

Lots of demanding, but also lots of giving soooo…

I truly believe Sasuke would be a softer partner than people make him out to be. Like did yall watch Boruto or not?? He’s got awkward and sweet energy. He’s TRYING. He’s emotionally stunted yall.

More dominant and likes to be in control, but will fall apart in your arms anyways. Usually more of a soft dom than anything.

One of the most likely to be fairly kinky though. I think he’d slowly discover he’s into things as they occur or cross his mind.

Sakura Haruno

She knows a lot about the human body.

Might have experience, might not. I could see it either way.

I think your first time with her would happen after like a romantic dinner together. And it would be romantic and slow.

But… that depends on you, because she’ll mostly go with what you want. It makes her happy.

She’s okay with being degraded or praised, but she really only likes to praise you.

Low sex drive.

She likes any position she can see your face.

She’s a switch, depends on her partner’s preference.

Sai Yamanaka

(Obviously not married here but just to have a last name to add)

He read a book about what to do.

Probably does something incredibly stupid at first, but that being said, he’s not an idiot, so not too bad.

You’d probably have to correct him a little bit. Also, tell him to forget the book and just go with the feeling and follow your lead.

You’d be in the lead at first. Probably go down on him first thing.

He’s not small. (I mean did you hear the way he talked to Naruto? He’s probably got something to work with if he’s talking so confidently LMFAO)

So you’d probably have to use your hand for the base while your mouth sucks on about half or so of his cock.

His hand tangles in your hair/rests on top, not pulling, but resting there.

He throws his head back, letting out soft sighs and small moans that escape his lips. He’s not trying to be quiet, but he’s not loud either.

Although, he might have read girls don’t like when guys make noise. Who knows. Then you might have to tell him that’s not true.

At first, sex is just discovering things with him. You’re both exploring how everything feels.

But, after a few times, he starts taking the lead and initiating.

He has a low sex drive though, so he won’t initiate too often.

It’s also hard to get him to realize what you’re asking for if you drop hints. He saw your underwear when you bent over… okay. He might even comment on how you should be more careful since he knows you don’t like to expose yourself so much.

You just deadpan and tell him it was supposed to turn him on.

“Oh.” And now he’s unbuckling his pants and asking you to come sit on his lap. :)

Shikamaru Nara

Low sex drive, usually at least, because now he’s consumed by the desire to be rode by you. Like he dreams about it.

He calls you troublesome to himself when he wakes up hard in the morning occasionally.

He lowkey loves to just lay between your legs or have you sit on his face so he can eat you out (pussy or ass, don’t matter)

Lazy morning sex. He loves it.

He’s dominant, but he can be rather lazy most the time. That being said, he will fuck you how you want him to if you ask.

Degrading but he’s not super mean about it at all. More like soft grunts with degrading terms, but the rest of it comes out more like soft sighs and groans of pleasure and praise.

Choji Akimichi

The sweetest. He takes his time with you every time.

Body worship. More so giving than receiving, but he’ll be a blushing mess if you give back the same energy.

Praise. Lots of it.

He’d be the type to kiss down your body, from your lips to your neck to your chest all the way down til he gets between your legs.

He can’t bring himself to be rough or harsh with you in anyway. No degradation, rough sex, or anything.

Likes to be able to see your face during sex.

He’d like to try food play.

Ino Yamanaka

Pillow princess unless asked to do otherwise.

She loves to be praised and worshipped, but also likes things rougher.

She’s a bit of a brat about things. Constantly going against what you say for fun.

She does it on purpose so you’ll go rougher on her, she likes it.

She also likes when things are slow and romantic though.

And she’d love it if you planned like a candlelit dinner and put a trail of rose petals on like Valentine’s Day, or even just cuz.

Shino Aburame

He’s in charge. He’s on top. Whatever. He doesn’t like to not have control.

He also just wants to please you, and often he’s not too worried about himself.

Might get a little self conscious if you skip over touching him or giving him head more than once. Like if it’s been a few times now and you haven’t bothered… did he do something?

He doesn’t need it, but he just… you know how he is.

He doesn’t make much noise.

But I do believe that right before he cums, he whimpers. He can’t help it, and don’t bring it up afterwards. He’ll be so embarrassed and not want to do it for a while because he’s scared he’ll do it again.

If he gets like that, just tell him you loved it. Then go down on him and tell him you wanna make him do it again.

He’s good with his hands, I just know it.

He can go rough and be stern and demanding, but other than that, he’s rather vanilla.

He’s a big fan of missionary so he can see your face.

And he doesn’t want to do anything unless it’s in your own home or absolute private, like an inn.

Kiba Inuzuka

Hickeys.

He loves giving them.

You will have like 20. From your jaw to your thighs, he’s marked. Plenty of them are visible and hard to hide because they’re dark.

He doesn’t exactly take his time. No, those hickeys are from the entire act. He starts leaving them during foreplay, then when he’s pounding into you, he quiets himself down by latching onto your skin.

When he eats you out, he leaves bite marks and hickeys around your thighs.

He calls it “marking his territory” then has to explain himself because no he doesn’t mean you’re a territory, you’re not a place or an object… he just… you’re his partner!

He’s rough.

Likes doggystyle most, but then he gets upset that he can’t see your face and next time he sets up a mirror.

Quickies. He can’t wait. He’ll whine if you tell him NO he can’t fuck you under the blanket, because YES people will notice the movement.

You might want to settle and pull him into a bathroom and let him fuck you over the counter, but he won’t force or beg you to the point of you giving in or anything. He’ll wait if you really mean no.

He’s got a high sex drive

Very likely to be pretty kinky. He’d be willing to tie you up, spank you, degrade you, etc.

He won’t do pet play. Thinks that shit is weird. So don’t think that because he’s a dog user, he’s gonna act dog like or have you act dog like. In fact, he’s more likely to hate it as a dog user.

I think he’d find any roleplay to be useless though. You could convince him if you wanted, but he’ll complain.

Hinata Hyuga

Much more intimate and gentle sex is what she wants

She’s not a pillow princess. She literally fantasizes about pleasing her partner.

Like probably day dreams, gets lost in her own thoughts, then is a blushing mess when she realizes that somebody is talking to her and she’s imagining what your moans would sound like when she’s between your legs, ESPECIALLY if the person talking to her is you.

She likes to do it in private, but she can’t deny that she imagines doing it where you both currently are. Not that she would.

Secretly has a high sex drive

Long refractory period though. She needs breaks between rounds.

Neji Hyuga

Took him a while to get vulnerable enough to take off his clothes if he’s being honest

Also I think Hyuga’s are very reserved and conservative until marriage, but he has such a tough time following that.

He really wants to jump your bones. And it’s almost like the fact he can’t because of his clan’s reserved and traditional nature just makes it WAYYYY more tempting.

You’re literally irresistible to him

Secretly, he’s just a little bit of a pervert. (Like Rock Lee’s Ninja Pals says he is)

I think he would have wet dreams from sexual frustration. Like the longer he holds back from having you under him, the worse it gets. Like a disease with no treatment.

I think your first time with him would be sudden, and it would be his first time ever.

You’d look WAYYYYY to good, and this time he can’t bring himself to ignore the boner he gets. No he’s gotta see if you’ll indulge him.

He may stop and pull away, get his act together if you remind him of his clan’s pride, and how he was so bent on following it before.

Maybe the first time, but by the next time he tries to give in, there is no try. He is cancelling any plans y’all had and tearing the outfit that made your body look so irresistible off.

He doesn’t have a super high sex drive, but he has such a hard time resisting just laying you down when you look so damn good. You are the reason he’s horny.

He loves when you ride him, and he WILL whimper. He tries not to, but Neji can’t be silent with the way you are squeezing him. The way you do it is so perfect, every bounce is drawing a noise out of him until he’s literally just letting out a stream of loud whimpers as he cums.

I think his cum would actually taste good. Next question.

Rock Lee

Perverted…

He feels bad for it when he catches himself, but Oop it’s too late… he’s got a boner

Boners are obvious in that green spandex…

He wouldn’t agree with doing it in public or semi-public though, but if you noticed his behavior or boner and pulled him off into the bathroom, ignoring his “this is indecent!” Protests because when you look at him before diving in to give him head, his eyes are literally pleading and he shuts up, pushing his hips towards your face.

He can’t be quiet so you’ll have stuff something in his mouth or cover it with your hand.

He secretly wants your chest in his face. He’s a chest guy. Boobs, pecks, whatever. He loves everything chest.

But he also loves ass. Small or big. Wants to grab a handful anyways.

Total switch

Because listen, he loves to pin your hips down and force you to accept the pleasure you’re trying to deny yourself.

Loves to pound his hips against yours until you’re a mess, but he also loves to do as you say.

He loves to be broken down until he’s in pieces by your mouth, body, words, whatever.

He whimpers like constantly, especially when he’s submissive. He tries to shut up when he’s dirty talking as he’s in charge, but he lets GO otherwise.

Tenten

I’m sorry her portion of this will be… lacking. I don’t know enough to say much. I love her, but I’ve never really thought about this at all.

I think she’d be a switch, but prefers to be in charge.

I think she’s depend greatly on you though.

If you don’t want to bottom/sub, that’s good.

Or vise versa.

She likes to take her time when she’s in control.

She’s fairly willing to try new things if you want to.

She enjoys going down on you most of all.

Gaara of the Sand

He’s very private about everything. He believes that his private life and his kazekage life should stay relatively separate. However, it is known that you are his partner. That’s no secret.

He’s not super into PDA, so it’s no surprise that he refuses to do anything risky or public in anyway.

He will not do it in the kazekage’s office. He has too much respect for it, but he also doesn’t want to get caught anyways.

He’s very intimate during. Slow and sensual for sure.

I can see him being into bondage, but like you get tied up, not him. But… depends. And might take some encouragement.

Refuses to hurt or degrade you for any reason. He only does praise. He could not bring himself to call you names or anything. Or to draw blood from you or hit you, etc. he doesn’t see why those things should be brought into the bedroom for “fun.”

He doesn’t think they’re fun.

He knew like nothing about sex before you. I actually think he’d have no idea how to initiate at first so you definitely initiated it.

I think he’d be the type you have to teach what to do a bit, but he gets the hang of it quickly. Then next time, he’s got every spot memorized.

Awkward. Like the first couple times were awkward, but romantic and cute.

Kankuro of the Sand

One word: kinky.

He likes to degrade you with a shit eating grin on his face. His degradation feels like a compliment most of the time though. Like he calls you a slut and it feels like he’s calling you a prince/princess. It’s confusing.

He’s so good at dirty talk. He’ll have you writhing in your spot, desperate for him and he’s not even touched you yet.

He’s got incredible patience when it comes to you. He takes his time breaking you down into a mess for him.

His face paint would 10 billion percent be smeared across your thighs and chest. Your neck is purple from bites AND his face paint to the point you can’t tell which is which.

Only when you wash off the face paint do you realize he left way too many dark hickeys that’ll probably take at least a week to fade away.

Confront him about this and he’ll just laugh.

Don’t tempt him to leave more, because he will.

He forces you to maintain eye contact when he goes down on you. If you look away for more than like 3 seconds, he give you a little tap as a warning, but twice and he stops.

Orgasm denial for sure. He would be the type to make up an excuse as to why he pulled away. He tells you all sorts of excuses. “You weren’t moaning enough.” “You moved your hips too much. Stay still.” And of course, “you looked away.”

He can make you cum hard almost every single time. You see stars.

The most fun part for him isn’t dicking you down, it’s the breaking you apart and putting you back together again.

Temari of the Sand

Dominant. Dommy mommy for sure.

Even when she decides to “sub” or “bottom,” she’s not doing a good job at it. She’s still telling you what to do, where to move, etc.

She’ll pull your hair, slap you, etc. as long as you are okay with it and want her to.

Loves to boss you around, telling you what she wants. Demanding you to please her.

“Get on your knees”

Head pusher for sure, but you two have a like physical que to let each other know when it’s enough.

All that being said, sometimes she really really just wants sweet, slow sex. Intimate nights filled with nothing but love.

She likes to keep all of this private though. No public or risky stuff.

However, she does like to do it beyond just in bed.

Would be the type to start kissing all over your neck, unbuttoning your shirt while you’re trying to cook breakfast.

You might want to turn the stove off.

[jumexju]

TEFUTEFU

Pairing !! : Uchiha Madara / Fem Reader

Fic Type !! : One-shot / Fluff / slice of life / Drabble

CW !! : none !

Summary !! : You ask him if you can braid his hair.

Note !! : It came to me in a dream /hj

✦ MASTERLIST

If you were to ask anyone what the most memorable feature that Madara possessed, most would surely say his Sharingan. And you couldn’t exactly argue, it was the genetic trait passed down to all Uchiha so of course, they were all bound to have it — But that didn’t make it something unique to Madara. Some people would say maybe his strength, they could call it godly and unmatched ! — If it wasn’t for Hashirama, who was the only shinobi who could ever match Madara in strength. People could state all the features they would deem memorable about your lover — but they often forgot about his long and spikey black hair. Over time, as you grew fond of Madara, one thing that had always stood out to you about him was his hair. 

You loved the feeling of it slipping through your fingers whenever he allowed you to comb through it and the way he leaned into your touch whenever you lightly scratched his scalp as you played with it. Madara was many things, but only you were allowed to see his soft side. Which is why you now sat behind him in bed, brush in hand as you combed through all the knots and tangles that had appeared in his hair. 

“Your hair’s really long..” your tone was doused in quiet fascination. 

“Stating the obvious, as-” 

“Can I braid it?” A wide smile spread across your lips as you imagined it. 

“What.” Madara looked back at you, shooting you an incredulous look. As if it was an outlandish thought to want to braid his hair. 

“Pleaseeeee??” you dragged the word out, pouting at him to convince him to allow it. 

He turned away from you, “Your pouting will not have any affect on me, woman.” He sighed, smirking to himself as he thought about how you’d still try to convince him. You were relentless when you wanted something — he knew that all too well.

“Pretty please with a cherry on top?” You rested your chin on his shoulder, making your presence unavoidable as you pleaded with him in the hopes that he’d say ‘yes’ to your request. 

“No.” 

Your face fell, shooting him an unamused look before taking your chin off his shoulder and going back to brushing through his hair, “You’re cruel.” 

“You’ve finally realized,” He chuckled at your statement as he let you brush through his hair. 

“-and insufferable.” you added. 

“Tell me something I don’t already know,” He rolled his eyes, ever the sassy man, before smiling to himself. You could do nothing but stare daggers at the back of his head, still brushing his hair. You were at his ends now, almost done with it, when he glanced at your face through the mirror. You were pouting still, clearly dejected at the fact that he didn’t let you braid his hair. Before you could finish brushing through it, he turned around, staring at you blankly as you looked up at him with gloominess still in your eyes. 

“Oh don’t look at me like that,” 

“Turn around so I can finish brushing your hair,” You crossed your arms at the man, ignoring his attempts to ‘cheer’ you up. 

“I’ll let you braid my hair-” 

Your face lit up at his words, a smile blooming on your lips like a flower in spring. 

“-If you stop giving me that depressed stare.” he finished, feeling his stomach flutter at the sight of your bright smile. 

“Okay! Now turn around,” You commanded, happy tone in your voice and eager to finish brushing his hair so you could braid it. 

He scoffed at how your emotions went from depressed to beaming in a split second. “Foolish woman..” he murmured to himself. 

“Yeah but you love me though,” you teased him as you separated his hair into three parts and began to cross them to make the braid. 

“Unfortunately,” He sighed in defeat. In the end, he really couldn’t bring himself to say no to you. Maybe Hashirama could match him in strength, 

but only you could bring him to his knees. 

[honeybeedrabble]

Casanova (Cheating!Sasuke x AFAB!Reader) - iii

CW: MINIMAL EDITING !!! mean!sasuke x AFAB!reader, reader pregnancy, homewrecker!reader, deadbeat dad activities, cheating, piv (unprotected), creampie, spitting/spit play, oral (f receiving) degradation (loser, whore), zero after care, breeder!sasuke, generally scummy behavior, lmk if i missed anything. short chapter lol

18+ MDNI !!!!!!!!!!

Sasuke knew he hated himself, like seriously- hated himself. He hated himself because everytime he came home he was reminded that he destroyed the family he loved so much just because he wanted to fuck you. Sure, the first time was an accident, if anything he helped you the first time! At least that’s what he told himself to be able to sleep at night. But the second time? The second time was pure lust, nothing but dirty lust that had taken over him and made him want to fuck you.

What didn’t help was how he heard people talk about you. How they would gossip about how nice your newly found motherhood was, and how it was sweet you’d decided to have your own little family. He hated that whenever people would ask who the father was you’d dodge the question, a flustered blush overwhelming your face as you clutched your chest.

But probably what Sasuke hated most of all was how the days went by and your belly got bigger, he got hard at just the sight of you. Your skin was always glowing, your breasts bigger, and of course your stomach bigger. He would think about how hot it was that he had gotten you pregnant, showing off how you were his, regardless as to how nobody knew it. In fact, the ignorance of how it was him got him unbelievably horny.

Whenever he would fuck his wife, he would put a hand flat on her stomach, feel the way his cock would bulge underneath, and imagine it was you while caressing where your child would’ve been. Sakura had no idea of course, she was just happy to get dicked down after a strange dry spell. Sasuke silently refused to fuck her, out of shame and pity mostly, but after getting hot and bothered by just the sight of you for weeks mixed with the feeling of sexual frustration he had to let himself go.

After the deed was done, his post but clarity kicked in like no tomorrow.

What am I going to do? How fucked am I?

He thought as he looked to his side and watched as his wife would catch her breath, post orgasm. He shook his head, pulling the covers up to his chest to cover himself up. Sakura rolled over, putting a hand to his covered chest.

“We haven’t done that in quite a while, huh?” she softly laughed, still breathing in and out.

“Yeah,” he smiled, looking away quickly. Sakura furrowed her brow.

“Are you okay?” She asked, sitting up and closer to him.

“Um, yeah… why?”

“It’s just… you’ve been so distant lately, and that’s saying something.” She nudged him and Sasuke made a halfhearted laugh. “You’ve been like this for weeks… if I didn’t know any better I’d assume something…” Sasuke tensed up.

“Assume what?” He bit back, jaw clenched. Sakura was taken aback.

“All I’m saying is ever since that genjutsu user got away you’ve been acting strange. You don’t feel bad about her getting away, do you?” Sakura asked, tone softer.

“She didn’t get away…” Sasuke muttered.

“Huh?”

“Oh, um… Her. Yeah, that’s what it is.” Sasuke replied, rolling over and facing away from Sakura. She giggled.

“Oh Sasuke, you’ve always been so hard on yourself.”

“For good reason…” He sighed, once again the feelings of shame and guilt returned.

“There you go again. Why don’t we just change the subject, hmm?” Sakura asked. Sasuke wanted to vomit when she said your name.

“W-what about her?” he felt the bile building up in his throat.

“Well you know how she’s pregnant right?”

“Yes, yes, of course I know she’s pregnant! What about her?”

“Well she’s coming into the hospital tomorrow for an ultrasound! When I found out I just knew I had to be her doctor so I’m going to be giving her her screening!” Sakura chirped happily.

Without a word Sasuke got out of bed, not facing her the whole time.

“Sorry, I just realized I have to go to the bathroom,” he said, walking out the door.

“Oh okay, we’ll can you bring me a glass of water when you come back?” Sakura called as he was already walking down the hall.

“Yup.” He responded. He locked himself in the bathroom and turned the fan on, then vomited into the toilet before tangling his fingers into his hair and silently crying as his heart beat out his chest.

___________________

You had no idea of course, so nobody could imagine the slurry of emotions erupting inside of you when Sakura walked into the room, clipboard in hand for your check up. You laid back on the examination bed, heart beating out of your chest as she made conversation with you about your baby.

“You can tell me, c’mon! Who’s the father,” she asked, pouring jelly on your belly and spreading it around.

“I can’t…” you frowned.

“Why not?” She asked, turning to the screen and flipping it on.

“It’s cause,” you felt sweat bead on your forehead, you felt sick and had no idea how to tell her this was her husbands child. “It’s cause I had a sperm donor.”

Sakura spun around in the seat and looked at you.

“No kidding! So you’ve really wanted to be a mom that badly?” She asked, moving the small device around on your stomach.

“Um… Yeah I guess so,” you mustered a laugh.

“Didn’t they tell you who the donor was? Y’know if I check your appointment date I can see who’s they gave you-“

“Oh no that’s fine! I didn’t have a preference…” You lied as you both shifted your attention to the screen. “Just wanted it to be healthy…”

Soon enough the fetus was on screen and Sakura gasped with delight.

“Well it seems healthy to me!”

“Um, do you know it’s gender yet?” You asked, shamefully curious.

“Well it’s too early to tell, that’s also why it’s so small.” She pressed a little harder against you, and shifted it around. She pointed at the top of the oblong shape. “There’s the head.”

You smiled as you looked at it, then your face dropped. You felt tears roll down your face and soon enough you were crying. Sakura turned her head to see you.

“I’m sorry…” you cried, wiping your face.

“No no! It’s okay, plenty of mothers cry when they get their ultrasound done it’s completely fine! It’s also all those hormones don’t worry.” She sat closer to you and gave you a small hug, running her hand up and down your back.

You wished she had punched you, kicked you, or even yelled at you, maybe then you wouldn’t feel so bad about being her husbands mistress and baby mother. But instead she was coddling you and telling you it would be alright, which it certainly would not be. Eventually you stopped crying and Sakura grabbed her clipboard and started writing down on it. She tore a piece of paper out and handed it to you.

“It’s a list of some prenatal vitamins, they’ll make you feel better especially when you start to get further into your first trimester.” She was too sweet, and you were so shitty.

_______________________

That night after dinner you heard a knock at your door and when you saw who it was you wished you slammed it immediately.

“Can I come in?” Sasuke asked, looking around nervously.

“Get the fuck in here.” You muttered. He shut the door behind him and locked it. You crossed your arms angrily.

“You know it’s already fucked up as it is that I have to raise your child alone, and now i’m reminded that your wife literally exists. You know she gave my ultrasound?” Sasuke cringed. “Yeah. Didn’t think about giving me a heads up?”

“I can explain-“

“Oh! So you did know?”

“Listen-“

“What the fuck…” you cried, sobbing into your hands and turning away from him.

“So emotional…”

“Fuck you, loser.”

“If i didn’t know your hormones were out of control right now I’d remind you that out of the both of us the real loser might be the one carrying the married man’s child.” Sasuke snapped. You growled low, then with an open palm struck him across the face. He winced, a soft grunt escaping his lips.

“I should kill this damn fetus that you find so fascinating. I hate it. I hate you. Everyday i’m reminded there’s something disgusting growing inside of me that you put there, it makes me sick.” You cried again, ugly sobs ripping their way out through your lungs to bounce around the walls of your home.

“It’s not my fault you were acting like such a whore that day.” Sasuke frowned, his hand running over the red skin on his face.

“If you had killed that genjutsu user we wouldn’t be here right now.”

“You got in the way.” You scoffed.

“Always so pretentious, aren’t you?”

“It’s the truth. I could’ve handled it but no, you just needed to show off.”

“Show off? You’re one to talk. You’re practically showing off to the whole village how you got me knocked up everywhere I go.” Your brows furrowed. Sasuke was silent.

He knew you were right. Maybe he knew it was the pot calling the kettle black, but he was backed into a corner. Something about the word ‘loser’ struck a nerve with him. A deadbeat dad with a distant wife- no fault of anyone else but him. Did he somehow think starting a family with you would be some sort of do-over? something to rid him of his guilt?

When he looked at his wife he saw a beautiful woman, strong and accomplished. But how can you have any room for attraction to someone you have so much guilt for. Guilt for his old days of vengeance and hate, guilt for his job that kept him away from home for years.

But you? You were a fresh face. Beaming with optimism and a subtle hint of indifference that he knew he could change. You had something Sasuke couldn’t quite identify, simply being around you now felt dangerous. Sure, it could be, but it was more than the thrill of danger. You were his whim, his drug, the fever he couldn’t sweat out and being inside of you was the only place he wanted to be every hour of everyday. Maybe you have animosity for him now but could this family save you? more importantly- could it save Sasuke?

You took a deep breath in, shakily letting it go.

“You need to leave…” You were about to walk for the door when a possessive hand grasped your wrist. You froze.

“You don’t understand, I need you.” His voice was almost a whisper, the low growl that it almost produced set a shiver up your spine.

“I…” you started, face flush from his sudden shift. “Please, I can’t deal with you right now. You’re just too confusing.”

Sasuke gripped you brash and pinned you against the nearest wall, mounted frames ratted when you made contact. You gasped, your free hand coming to rest at your belly.

“Sasuke! You can’t just do that! It’s not good for the baby, knock it off,” your face burned hot. Sasuke raised a brow, a small smirk pricking up.

“Oh? So you do care about the well being of our baby, huh?” Bastard. He had you.

He leaned down partially, teasing you with a warm breath against your lips. You fought yourself to not close the gap, your mind racing and your face flaming. Soon enough you gave into your impulses and kissed him passionately.

You both let out an exhale, his soft lips making yours wet with his saliva. He opened his mouth to lick your sweet lips, tracing how plush they were only for his tongue to slip past them and feel along your own. His tongue ran along the smooth underside of yours, then swirled back up to trace your rougher taste buds, leaving his own flavor behind.

He grunted when you tangled your fingers in his hair, digging deep towards his roots and gently yanking when he pressed a growing erection into your swollen core. You wrapped your legs around his waist, your arms around his neck and he carried you to your bedroom, where he laid you down onto the mattress as soon as you both arrived.

Sasuke ripped off your pajama pants then ducked down to the valleys of your flesh, kissing in between your thighs to suck deep hickeys into. You moaned and writhed under his chin, then he made haste to your sensitive pussy, licking hard against your clit. You let out a harsh and untamed cry of pleasure, it almost sounded like you were in pain. But the way you bucked your hips into his mouth and dig deeper into his scalp proved otherwise.

You didn’t realize your body was craving Sasuke for so long until mere seconds later you were cumming on his tongue, hoarse moans and soft whimpers escaped your lips without warning as your juices filled his mouth. Sasuke palmed himself when you flooded into him, he swallowed every drop you could’ve given him and when you were done with your orgasm he didn’t stop devouring you until you were shaking like a leaf.

Sasuke roughly grabbed one of your tits as he stood up, looking down at you through narrowed eyes, you quivered under his gaze.

“Off.” He commanded. You took off your tank top and threw it across the room. Sasuke swooped down to caress your tits in his hand and mouth, biting harshly on your sensitive nipples. You clenched around nothing when he did so, thighs clamping shut around his torso.

He quickly came off of you and he undid his pants, you watched as the waistband of his pants and boxers fell to the floor, his large cock standing straight up against his chiseled abdomen.

There were no words spoken between the two of you. No promises of love, no claims of possession, no gifts exchanged or fancy jewelry to court with, no battles won to impress with, and no acts of tenderness. Only one single thing was present and that was the absolute orgasmic pleasure that came from being impaled be Sasukes cock over and over and over again. He got off watching you bounce from underneath him, your tits giggling every time he bottomed out and his balls smacked against your ass.

Sasuke bit his lip to stutter his moans when you started shaking again. Your climax looked almost like a seizure, more whimpers and cries were let out as you shook, only to be met with more tremors the longer he fucked you, continuing to deliver what practically seemed like pleasure epilepsies.

“F-Fuck! Sasuke, you’re so good…” you mewled, toes curling when he hit that good spot deep inside of you.

His hips didn’t slow their violent pace, his thumb traced along your clit, rubbing tight circles against it with he pad of his finger.

“Yeah…” he grunted, pace getting rougher. “You like this dick, huh? You like it so much you got pregnant from it, little whore.” He smirked, teasing you with long, deep strokes that slowed down to an agonizing pace.

You breathed heavily, heart pounding so loud and fast you were scared you might have a heart attack.

“Fuck- yeah…” you blubbered, hips twisting when you felt him bottom out.

“You’re gonna raise my fucking baby, aren’t you?” Sasuke murmured, his pace intensified and yet again you were crying out again.

“Y-yeah,” you whimpered, legs shaking as Sasuke obliterated your leaky pussy.

“That’s right… you’d do anything for this uchiha dick, wouldn’t you?” He asked with a smirk as he jackhammered you raw with his thick rod.

You neared your orgasm, cunt clenching tight and making Sasuke grunt as he continued to rail you. You nodded, eyes rolling back as your eye brows furrowed. Your mouth fell open and Sasuke took this opportunity to spit into it, you shocked yourself when you swallowed it. Sasuke had a feeling you would but watching you do it made him go crazy and his pace inside of you was excruciating.

“Say you want our baby, say you’re keeping it,” Precum was spilling out of you, it was fully mixed in with your arousal and your ass was drenched from your fluids dripping down.

“I want our baby, Sasuke- I… I’m keeping it I promise…” your face burned, your body surprised you would utter such words to the man who ruined you.

It didn’t matter for much longer since you came hard on his cock, appendages flying all around him to get him even closer to you. He complied and pressed himself deeper into you, almost as if he were fusing into you. his cock twitched when he filled you up with hot cum and you loved hearing his soft moans. you wrapped your legs around him to keep him right inside of you and if it wasn’t for the fact it was sasuke who had led you to this misfortunate spot, you wouldn’t be upset by the state you’re in now.

Eventually Sasuke got off of you and clothed himself. His pants covering his sex, almost as if in a way he was ashamed of where it had got him. Hiding it away from the mess he had made.

“I’ve got to go, I’ve already overstayed my welcome.” Sasuke sighed, he turned around and looked back over his shoulder at you. “Goodnight.”

You were still naked and drenched in sweat and sperm, juices leaking down your legs. It was like he injected you with his own venomous guilt for living, having desire, having your own craving for freedom through your sex. That freedom was gone now, only one of you had to deal with this fuck up. Now this venom was killing you. It was as if the most pleasurable knife was jabbed inside of you and you were bleeding out your emotions.

The sheets were all messed up besides you and as you watched him go you were glad he didn’t offer to tuck you in. A good man would’ve offered, a better would’ve tucked you in without even asking. In a way, it was confirmation he was a shitty lover and maybe even a worse partner. It made you feel better he wouldn’t do such an intimate thing for the fling like this when he has a wife and child at home.

Still shaken, you managed to sit upright, angry and defeated. You knew your body and mouth betrayed you of the freedom you wanted so badly. They reinforced his belief that you wanted to keep this anchor of a weight that was Sasuke Uchihas child. You were furious your body betrayed you and led you down a path of self destruction. You felt cheated, then felt worse when you realized that the only person who should really feel that way was Sakura.

AN: i have been LAGGING !!! i am so sorry gang i'm trying to be better with posting like how i used to but somethings been up idk what is is or when it'll be over but i think i just gotta womp womp my way through it. anyways i'm sorry if i forgot to add you to the tag list just leave a comment and i'll add you to the next part.

tag list: @just-your-emo-sensei @princess-saki1 @mandy-yeager @emmaaas-posts

[obito-in-disguise]

| Unreceived |

-Husband! Itachi × reader

A joke you made doesn't land well with your husband.

332 days, that was how long Itachi had been gone on a mission. He goes away on missions often, but this was the longest he'd ever been away. You remember the tearful departure like it was yesterday, though a lot of the tears were on your end.

It was like any other day, the two of you were having dinner, there was light conversation here and there but the comfortable silence was greatly appreciated as well. Itachi had been fiddling with his food for a while now, a strange distant look occupying his face. He had a cute habit of zoning out at the table so you didn't question it much, to you he was just simply lost in thought again.

Perhaps you should have because just a few minutes later, Itachi clears his throat. "Y/n, maybe we should get that puppy you've talking about" how random, the last time you talked about the puppy was almost a week and a half ago. "I thought you didn't like animals on the furniture, why the sudden change of heart tachi?" "...it could keep you company while I'm gone...".

You felt your stomach drop, you should've know better by now. Itachi always lets you know of his impending departure in the most jarring ways possible. You could feel the heat rushing to your face in panic, he had never suggested getting a pet to keep you company while he was on his missions. So what was different about this mission? You weren't stupid, even though you tried to push them away every thought in your head was screaming that Itachi was going to be gone for a long, long time.

Your panicked demeanor did nothing to hide your thoughts, so Itachi concludes he might as well just get on with it. He sighs, reaching across the table to grasp your hand "I will be gone for quite some time dear..." You hated the way he was looking at you, with such pity, like you would break apart the second he stepped foot out of the house, maybe you would. You hated how attached you had grown to his presence, to his company, but what was so wrong with being attached to your husband?

"How long?..." "Eleven months but just know that I will be think-" "Cut the crap" you yank your hand out of his, your desperation and anger muddling together to form one big meltdown. "If you were thinking about me then you wouldn't leave me alone on my own for a year..." damnit, you couldn't even finish the sentence without your voice wobbling. He needed to know that this was serious and that you weren't just acting out of momentary emotions.

"That's why I suggested the puppy..." he winces as soon as the words leave his mouth. If looks could kill, the glare you were sending him right now would have him six feet under. "This isnt even your home Itachi, it might as well be a guest house because all you do is come and go!" Itachi's expression hardens, the atmosphere following suite. "That isn't fair y/n. Everything I've done...I've done for you, to ensure you get to live in a world that is safe because you deserve it. It hurts me just as much to be away from you but this is my duty as a ninja and as a husband" You know he's right, you know it, but it didn't make the situation hurt any less.

"I know, I'm sorry...its just a year is too much...that's...I..." you couldn't even finish your sentence coherently but it was going to royally suck being separated from your husband for a year was your point. He pulls you into a hug, warm and comforting, delicate and tender before pulling back and holding your face in his large hands "Since you didn't let me finish my sentence last time, I will be thinking about you every minute and every second of the day. Will you be strong for me?" How unfair, how was he so good at diffusing the situation and making everything ok?

"Can't you just take me with you?..." If this wasn't such a serious moment, Itachi would've burst out laughing. Even though he always let you win in playfights, your ninja skills were a joke and so therefore you would get obliterated within one day of the mission. He simply smiles and brushes his lips against your forehead in a tender gesture of reassurance "I cannot in good faith do that, you will be safest here where I know you are far away from the dangers of my work. Now, how about that puppy?..."

So here you were 322 days later, earnestly waiting for his return. You two eventually settled on a Maltese, Itachi promised that with the small white ball of fluff running around, you wouldn't even notice his absence. If anything, it reminded you of him more, especially when the time for his return drew nearer and nearer.

Itachi had forgotten he was now done with his mission and that he didn't need to be so deathly quiet anymore, as he slipped into the living room after a year of being gone to find you flipping through a book absentmindedly. He had also apparently forgotten to turn his sharingan off when you turned around and nearly passed away from fright seeing a man standing in the shadows of your doorway, red glowering eyes boring into yours.

"What are you doing Itachi! you scared me half to death!" whatever excitement you had for his return was replaced with fright. He chuckles stepping out of the doorway and revealing those refined features you had come to love. "Is this the welcome I get after not seeing you in a year?" You glare at him before ultimately tackling him in a bone crushing hug, you couldn't believe he was actually back. The hug startled him, causing him to stumble a little but he eventually gains his bearing, returning the embrace with equal fervour. "I missed you tachi..." "I missed you even more my love but I'm home now, I'm home".

After your tearful and frightful reunion, you led him upstairs to the bathroom where you stripped him of his clothes and began to wash him, a tender gesture of intimacy. You started with his hair which was now much longer, since the last time you saw it while he sits in the bathtub. The water was all the way up to his nose and he sneaks little peeks up at you from your position behind him, bringing his hand up occasionally to wipe away the lather that threatens to get in his eyes.

"I bet you're enjoying this domestic display aren't you? seeing the feared Uchiha Itachi reduced to a pampered husband" he speaks, sitting up slightly to allow the water to come to the level of his chest. "Very much so yes" no matter how scary eveyone said he was, he was always going to be your baby. "Even the scariest of ninjas need a little pampering and luckily for you, your wife is an expert in that field".

A smirk plays on his lips at your proud declaration, no matter how much he protests he loves when you take care of him. "Very lucky indeed but don't let it get to your head, it'll take a lot more to subdue me". You scoff at his words, stopping your ministrations to his hair abruptly to place a kiss on his cheek. You grin in triumph as you watch the dark red blush spread from his neck to the tip of his ears, this paired with his startled glare only add to his adorableness.

"Seems like I should let it get to my head because I know how to make Uchiha Itachi blush" he flushes deeper as you tout your victory, sinking deeper into the water as if to hide his embarrassment. "Don't get too confident wife, flustering me doesn't make you formidable" you snicker going back to washing his hair "oh yeah? maybe I should sell my techniques to your enemies, would I be formidable then?"

He snorts at the thought of his enemies kissing him on the cheek after learning about it from you. "That would be very...unpleasant" He says making a face. "What if I use these tactics against your foes, perhaps we could gain an advantage. The element of surprise often proves decisive in battle." You say playfully thinking up strategies based on your unique brand of combat. "we could create a whole new arsenal of psychological warfare."

He knows you're teasing him but the thought fills Itachi with a sudden sense of discomfort. His jaw clenches involuntarily at the thought of you bestowing such intimate gestures upon other men. He tries to shake off the irrational jealousy, reminding himself that such thoughts are unfounded and unnecessary. After all, your bond is rooted in trust and mutual respect, not petty insecurity.

Still, the image of another man receiving your affection lingers, fueling a quiet storm inside him. Itachi forces a nonchalant laugh, attempting to dispel the darkness gathering in his head. "Naturally, those kisses would be reserved solely for me, the fortunate husband who gets to indulge in them daily." He meets your gaze, a hint of desperation underlying his rapidly failing casual demeanor.

You freeze at the sudden change in the atmosphere, was he actually taking you seriously? "Tachi...I'm your wife, I'm not going to kiss anyone else." Rising from the bath, Itachi steps out onto the tiles, water droplets glistening on his skin. He turns to face you, his eyes searching yours intently. "I know my love, I just take my responsibility as your husband very seriously."

With deliberate slowness, Itachi reaches out, his wet fingers brushing lightly against your cheek. You sigh, allowing yourself to relax again as you nuzzle into his touch. "Besides, if I wanted to kiss other guys I would've done it while you were away on your mission...haha."

The tease falls as flat as a thunderclap, Itachi's face darkening ominously at your remark. He recoils slightly, his hand falling away from your skin as if it burned. The jest, intended to lighten the mood, strikes a nerve in the most unexpected way possible. As confident as he appeared to be, Itachi had his insecurities as well. Throughout the mission, his mind was plagued with thoughts of you finally having enough of his absence and leaving him for someone else, someone who could be with you all the time. So it hit him like a truck when you made your little joke about cheating, it was like someone had spoken the words out his worst nightmares to taunt him.

"Is that what you were thinking while I was gone?" he asks not being able to stop the words if he wanted to, his tone devoid of humor. Each word is punctuated with an icicle chill delivery, making it clear that even the possibility of infidelity sends shockwaves through his very being. His eyes search yours, scrutinizing every flicker of emotion that crosses your features. He struggles to keep the violent rage bubbling beneath the surface from boiling over, knowing full well the destructive path it would lead him down.

This night had definitely spiralled, Itachi had spiralled, the pressure of being away for so long was finally crashing down on him and he manifested it in the worst way possible. How did the atmosphere go from intimate and jestful to raging jealousy and accusations of unfaithfulness. "You can't be serious Itachi, it was a jok-" "You think this is amusing?" he asks, his voice low and dangerous, each word carefully enunciated. "You'd do well to remember the sacrifice I made during my time away, y/n. Leaving you, enduring months of hardship and loss, all to ensure yours and the village's safety and yet you imply I should lose you to someone else because of it?"

His voice rises, betraying the anguish simmering beneath the surface. He wraps a towel around his waist, suddenly cold from more than just the dampness seeping into the air. His posture remains rigid, shoulders squared in a silent challenge to the unwarranted doubt you cast. "I trust you, y/n. Not everyone deserves that same privilege. So choose your words more carefully in the future."

Your jaw is on the floor by the time he finishes his little rant. How had he managed to take the joke so wrongly? What did he even think of you? "What the hell Itachi! what was all that? I already told you it was a joke, I would never cheat on you!" He grabs your wrist tugging you closer, "That remark was inappropriate y/n" he says through gritted teeth, each word carefully enunciated to convey the depth of his displeasure. "You should refrain from making jests about something so serious in the future." The atmosphere in the room has now deteriorated rapidly, the warm glow of the bath was now replaced by an uncomfortable chill.

Your chest heaves as you yank your wrist out of his grip in anger and quite frankly embarrassment, here was your husband of 5 years lecturing you about infidelity like you were a frivolous lady of the night. "Get off me! You're clearly out of touch with your emotions, what's gotten into you?" You don't give him a chance to respond before you stomp out of the bathroom, making sure to slam the door as loud as you can. You needed to be away from him right now, anywhere would do. You thought all those absences and long missions away from home wouldn't affect your relationship but they clearly did. A careful reevaluation was due.

Pt. 2 out neoww.

Ya'll my keyboard kept auto correcting Itachi to Hitachi wtf??? Isn't Hitachi the name of that company that makes massage wands but everybody just uses them to get off😭

Enjoyed the story? check out more of my other Naruto fics and more stories! Requests are open! and don't forget to leave a like, comment or reblog pookie♡

[yu-huuuu]

Madara smiled as you nestled your face against his neck. He felt his heart flutter with happiness and tenderness as he heard your giggle while he planted a soft kiss on your head.

His arms wrapped around you as the darkness of the room enveloped both of you, but that didn't even matter to him, not as long as he had you in his arms. The warmth of your body pressed against his lulled him to sleep along with the gentle scent of your silky hair.

Madara scoffed at how ridiculous this whole situation was. The man who lead the grand Uchiha clan, the man who could defeat tailed beasts with just his eyes... was defeated by the warmth and tenderness of your embrace.

"Madara", your soft and sweet voice like honey called out to him from the dimness of his sleep, successfully pulling him away from the reverie you had put him in.

He hummed unwilling to pull away from you, simply not wanting to let go of your warmth. His cold hands warmed with the touch of your back. His heart, which sometimes he felt stopped beating, now beat softly and so wonderfully against his chest, making him feel alive after not being by your side all day.

The soft touch of your hand against his cheek caused him to open his eyes, meeting your gaze that looked at him without any fear. Obsidian met the rich color of your eyes. Madara felt his chest flutter. Unconsciously he leaning his head more towards the warmth of your hand, trying to enjoy your touch as much as he could.

"Madara"

There it went again, his name coming out of your soft lips making his ears feel warm. He leaned in trying to meet your eyes. "Yes?"

"Wake up"

He remained silent for a moment, completely confused about what you meant. "What?"

"Please, wake up", you pleaded as your precious eyes were filled with unshed tears.

"I... I don't understand"

"Madara, please wake up, this can't go on like this"

.

.

.

.

.

"Madara... I'm dead"

.

.

.

.

"Please... wake up"

.

.

.

"Wake up"

…

Madara woke up from his dream.

Feeling again like a dead man longing for the warmth of a woman who was also dead.

...

fluff and angst? yes please

[oddlylovingaddiction]

ANGST WARNING CAUSE I LIKE TO SEE MYSELF SUFFER…

Men who don’t have the heart to break up with you, so they just stop. Stop the love, the touches, the time, all of the small things. Maybe it’s because they don’t want to do those things anymore or they’re too busy to do all the nice little things like before. But it all just stops.

“Hey babe! Wanna hang out today?” You happily say to him but he can’t be bothered to look at you. “Sorry, I’m just a bit busy okay? Maybe later.” You nod, understanding. But that ‘maybe later’ turns into hours, days, weeks and months. His usual time with you is just…. Gone. The amount of kisses also stopped like his time with you. “I’m just a bit busy.” When you tried to kiss him as he rushed to work or wherever else he had to be.

That’s when the feeling started. The deep, deep, pit of anxiety. That unknowing sensation of where you feel sort of ghost like. You didn’t want to admit it…

“Hey baby! Want to watch a movie with me?” You smile at him as you sit on the couch, it’s pretty late at night as he enters your shared apartment after finishing his work. “No thanks, I’m just going to head to bed.” He replies coldly as he just goes straight into your shared bedroom without a glance your way.

You just sit there, the TV drowns out. Your heartbeat quickens. You try to fight away the fear clawing at your throat and eyes. You just can’t admit it…

When you go to pick him up from his job as a surprise you catch him talking about you with his co-workers. “Hey how’s your relationship doing man?” One of his friends asks, his answer causes your heart to drop from your hiding place where you’re eavesdropping. “Oh. It’s been.. okay but to be honest I’ve been thinking of ending it recently.” He blandly replies with an awkward laugh. You can hear his friends gather around to comfort him and encourage him to do what he feels is right.

With that you run out of the building and get in your car, driving away from his workplace.

That’s when the chocked out sobs start. Tears spill as you sob. At some point you have to pull over and park because the tears keep making it hard to see.

I guess now you can finally admit it.

Finally admit that the love has stopped.

It’s all over.

Feel free to imagine whoever you want!

[wing-ed-thing]

Foul Creature (Tobirama x Reader) Chapter XI

Synopsis: The territory between the Uchiha and the Senju dwindles by the day. And in an era where social lines have been blurred, and new clan heads have been chosen, you're stuck between a scorned lover and a man who relentlessly pursues your hand in marriage. You don't have much time before you're forced to confront the sins of your past.

Word Count: 9.6k

Tags/Warnings: Warning for dark themes ahead. Fem!Uchiha!Reader. Please consult AO3 for more specific warnings.

Chapter I | Previous Chapter | Part XI (Current Chapter)

Notes: A one month turnaround for me and this series is becoming unheard of. Probably due to the lengths of these chapters. Why do they keep growing???

Hashirama enjoyed lingering in a lovely garden, and political figures, no matter the rank, tended to flock around Hashirama. So, to accommodate Hashirama’s tendency to idle in nature and the massive posse of political figures that vied for his attention, a sizable courtyard area was built near the Senju dwellings.

When Tobirama tore through the garden and stormed inside, he appeared troubled, much more so than usual. While he usually tried to ignore Hashirama’s bids for laughs and attention, the speed and force with which he stormed through the courtyard raised Hashirama’s brow. 

Tobirama was granted a brief reprieve. However, his brother's delayed presence was strictly attributed to the many political figures Hashirama had to gently dismiss before he could follow Tobirama inside. 

Tobirama was already hunched over a desk, penning away at some lengthy document with his forehead in his palm. While the desk was cluttered, the mass of papers and stationery items were allotted into neat, well-maintained piles for their size. Hashirama frowned in the doorway, allowing his brow to twitch a minuscule amount before he quietly shut the door. His head dropped before it rolled back.

“What happened?” he asked. 

Tobirama didn’t answer. His back flexed with more tension than needed for the simple task of writing. Hashirama let out a deep sigh. 

”I did tell you that it would not end well, now did I not?” 

“I was the swiftest messenger,” Tobirama snapped, slamming his quill on the table. The sound reverberated across the near-empty room. He sat straight, facing forward as he took a steady breath in. But the moment he took to calm himself did nothing for the volume of his voice. “What do I have to shrink away from regarding the Uchiha? We had all killed our fair share on the battlefield. Facing a fellow warrior with a grudge is no matter to me!”

Hashirama flinched neither at his brother’s volume nor the physicality of his outburst. His face slowly melted from its usual brightness to a concerned neutrality.

“Well, this tells me that you did not engage with a fellow warrior.” Hashirama’s gaze narrowed. He hardly let a beat pass. “What did you do, brother?”

The room fell silent. Tobirama should have known that his brother was far too clever to let him ignore what happened at the Uchiha compound. He didn’t expect that in any reality. The moment his hands found your skin, Tobirama knew there was no coming back. It would have to come out eventually, given that this was surely the end of the Uchiha-Senju compromise for which Hashirama had worked so hard. 

And for what he had told you about slapping the scroll out of his hand, the incredulousness he committed was far more severe and far more reckless. 

Tobirama turned, his face nothing less than severe and neutral as he approached Hashirama to kneel and bow deeply at his feet. His head hardly touched the wood flooring below for Hashirama to be filled with dread.

“I have committed a great error, for I have laid hands on a member of the Uchiha council!” Tobirama proclaimed, his forehead digging into the floor. 

Hashirama took a moment of pause above him. 

“And this was in self-defense?”

Another moment of pause came. Tobirama didn’t let it last for long and spoke what he knew was the truth, “No,” he said.

Tension grew in the stale air.

“For the sake of clarity,” Hashirama started. Tobirama’s heart had already begun to palpate in anticipation of the words he knew would come next. Hashirama’s voice had hardly wavered, but Tobirama knew his brother well enough to know that Hashirama was barely restraining rage. “You had laid hands on Madara’s companion.” 

Your name followed, spoken in the same way one would name a jutsu. The mere word stilled the atmosphere in such a way that Hashirama didn’t need explicit confirmation.

Tobirama breathed in.

“Yes.”

Hashirama hummed, deep in thought behind his neutral eyes and deepening frown. Yes, his mind was working quickly, perhaps almost as swiftly as the rising heat of rage in his chest. Hashirama hardly wore his expressions on his face when it came to grave matters, a stark contrast to his usual jovial demeanor. 

“Pick yourself up, brother.”

Tobirama obeyed, and just when he got to his feet, Hashirama’s fist flew mercilessly across Tobirama’s face. It was a strike thrown without frills, just hard knuckle against skin at a velocity unseen. The sound snapped through the room, as red stained Tobirama’s starkly pale skin. He recoiled, having been forced down to one knee from the sheer power of such a simple strike. Hashirama hardly had anything to add, watching as his brother maneuvered his own jaw, popping it back into place. Tobirama’s hand came away with a streak of blood from his ruptured nostril. 

“I cannot say that was not deserved—”

”You best have a great explanation.” Hashirama fidgeted, moving to turn but jerking back toward Tobirama. Hashirama held a hand to his own face, squeezing and massaging the skin of his cheeks as he heavily pondered. He stared off into a corner of the room. “Madara loved Izuna more than anyone else, and I had just barely managed to persuade him into these negotiations—”

—“I know this, brother, the deepest apologies could never—”

“Tobirama, you do understand that you have attacked a civilian?” Hashirama asserted. Another great pause filled the space between them. There was too much to say and little time for it. “You have laid hands on a civilian much smaller than yourself, a diplomatic ally, and the very person that has the most sway over Madara and, by extension, the Uchiha as a whole.” 

Even now, Hashirama's voice held great patience but left little room for escape. He spoke to understand, even as the fate of a unified Land of Fire looked as if it would crash down around him. 

“I need an explanation,” Hashirama said. “If I am to face Madara— for there is no doubt that Madara has already heard word— I require your reasoning.”

He looked Tobirama in the eye, concern and complexity swimming around his dark irises. Tobirama had since picked himself off the floor.

“I am sorry…” Tobirama’s head bowed. “I cannot offer you an explanation that Madara would accept. I am certain that the truth would only make him more furious than he already is.”

“You have bigger issues than Madara if you refuse to speak,” Hashirama said with an acute frown. “Without information from you, I can only assume the worst.”

Tobirama ran a hand through his hair. He hadn’t wanted to admit it, especially out loud. But in the face of his brother, with such important things in the balance, Tobirama couldn’t hesitate. 

“We were involved long ago when we were but children… Perhaps for a series of weeks… Perhaps less,” Tobirama admitted, and to his slight surprise, Hashirama wasn’t fazed. Why would he be when he had also snuck off to see an Uchiha in his youth as well? Tobirama expected no less. He squared his shoulders, clasping his hands together as if delivering a report. “Seeing her after so long… She had brought up things that had happened, and I lost my temper.” His slender eyebrows wrinkled his forehead. He gave a nod of acknowledgment. “I spoke in a foul manner. She, rightfully, retaliated… and I did the same tenfold.”

Tobirama nodded, thinking as to whether he had left anything significant out of his brief summary. Shame coated him like a blanket. It all sounded so trivial when put in such a way.

Hashirama placed his hands on his hips, casting his gaze toward the ceiling. He breathed in deeply, then out.

“Of all the women…” Hashirama sighed, letting his eyes close. “She did not sustain lasting damage, did she?”

“Of course not,” Tobirama defended, sounding almost insulted. “You think I would brutalize a council member unprovoked in the middle of the woods?” He shook his head, his fingers momentarily finding the hair just above his forehead. He raked the strands back like a comb. Tobirama’s eyes also fell shut. He took another breath in as if preparing himself for his next confession. “I pinned her by the neck.”

“By gods, Tobirama!”

“My aim was not to kill or injure.”

“I am sure she was petrified all the same! And you know as well as I that Madara would not see it that way,” Hashirama asserted. “All he will be able to think is that you attacked his companion when he was away—”

—“Please stop referring to her as this.”—

“You could have faintly touched the shoulder of her robes, and that would have been far too much aggression shown toward an Uchiha woman.” Hashirama shook his head.

Tobirama rolled his eyes.

“My regretful actions aside, I do not understand why it should matter whether she is a woman or not.”

“Because the Uchiha are of a different culture, brother. Only a handful of female Uchiha warriors have existed in their history, that being only so many you could have come across, and yet you had to choose Madara’s closest companion to pick a fight with!” He shook his head, letting it fall back into his hand again. “I must go tend to this. We can only hope that Madara remains in a headspace from which he can be talked down.”

Hashirama grabbed his haori, pulling it over his shoulders as he primed himself toward the door. Tobirama didn’t budge. He knew that the mess he made had to be mended by Hashirama. No one else could pull off such a feat.

“I am prepared to take full responsibility,” he said with certainty.

“Madara will certainly demand your head,” Hashirama countered gravely. “We can only hope that creativity finds me on my journey there.”

***

“Where have you been?” you snapped. Madara had barely made it to the compound before you were upon him. “You have been gone for hours!”

You barged out from the Uchiha compound, marching across the dirt clearing to Madara, who stood still. A massive beast was slung across his shoulder, its head handing over his back. 

He scowled. You spoke to him with quite the tongue on you for as long as he could remember. He hadn’t been particularly fond of it then, and ever since he had been chosen as the head of the Uchiha, his tolerance for your attitude had dwindled immensely. Madara checked you far more often, unashamed of using his title to silence you. Still, your familiarity with each other was enough to overpower formalities more often than he would have liked.

“Hunting,” he deadpanned. He spared a momentary glance at the beast draped over his armor.

You looked at it incredulously.

“Is that a deer?” The rest of the council, who were used to your spats with Madara, completely passed the two of you by. They carried their gear, chatting amongst themselves and paying little mind to what you were on about. “You know better than to hunt deer in Nara territory!” 

You placed your fists on your hips, your heart nearly bursting out of your chest after being pent up all afternoon. Of all the times for the Uchiha men to get restless, it had to have been the time you needed them most.

“Well, I will inform you now that while you and the rest of my kinsmen have disappeared for half a day, Tobirama Senju came to this place in search of you!” You huffed, too wrapped up in yourself to notice Madara’s darkened demeanor. You opened your mouth wide to continue, ready to spit venom and fire alike. “I do not even know where to start when it comes to the absolute nerve—”

“I am able to believe such things,” Madara interrupted, his intonation a tick lower than usual. The volume surprised you. He looked at you straight on with a severe air about him. “What did he want? It better have been a very important message to compensate for his coming to this place. Tobirama should know better than to show his face here.”

You sputtered, thrown off by not being able to finish your earlier thought. But with Madara’s words, you were suddenly too caught up in what he said to remember the entire rant you wanted to unleash. You blinked a few times. You had a whole tirade ready that you had carefully been scripting in your head since you dragged yourself back to the compound to await Madara’s return. Now, as things weren’t happening the way they had in your head, you found yourself thrown off.

“Only to deliver a scroll,” you stammered, trying to pick a direction. Your personal issues aside, was there a reason that Tobirama should have been hesitant to show himself at the Uchiha compound? “Did… something happen between you and Hashirama? Because Tobirama came to this place absolutely—”

“A scroll? Bah!” Madara shook his head, waving a hand. He began to march off to follow the rest of his men. “If you are asking just me, I would believe that Hashirama and I are on favorable terms,” he announced into the evening atmosphere. Madara spared a brief, singular glance back at you. “Unless Tobirama suggested otherwise… Even so, a discussion with Hashirama would be paramount before I believe a word that man speaks!” 

Even for his noises of annoyance, Madara appeared almost unconcerned. And while you could see the visible tension in his form on his dismayed expression, Madara continued on.

You followed behind him. You had never been able to keep up with Madara’s long and fast strides. You were convinced he walked like that on purpose. 

“Madara! Will you just let me speak?”

“You have been allowed to speak for the duration of this. Out with whatever is negging you so.”

The head of the beast he carried laid limply over his shoulder, or perhaps the better term would have been heads. It was some sort of two-headed deer with great antlers, a good portion of which dug into the back of Madara’s armor. It couldn’t have been comfortable to carry. 

You breathed in with certainty.

“While you were away, Tobirama had come to this place and raised a hand to me—”

“Madara! My friend! Talking about me, are you?” Hashirama’s voice drowned you out completely.

You turned in shock as Hashirama made his way up the hill, trudging through the dirt path with a great smile and wave of his hand. From the little time you had been acquainted with him, he had always been rather loud when he grew excited. Even during negotiations, the sheer volume of his voice was enough to hear from several rooms over. 

Madara turned as well with a sigh. He readjusted the deer on his shoulder.

“Will no one let me place this thing down?” He lamented to no one in particular. His voice rose when he called across the clearing. “What do you want, Hashirama?”

”No need to be so hostile, Madara!” Hashirama laughed, making short work of the distance between you. “Do I need a reason to visit?”

It was in one moment that you made eye contact. Hashirama’s gaze met yours, and in that connection, his eyes flickered from wide and jovial to wary. The upturned corner of his lip faltered, and it all happened in an undetectable fraction of a second.

He knew. 

There was noise all around you. Madara continued to speak, sighing and complaining as the noises of nocturnal bugs seemed to grow to an unbearable volume. Even the gentle evening breeze seemed to hit your ears in just the right way as to be almost deafening.

Despite how authentic it might have been, you knew that Hashirama’s upbeat and charismatic demeanor was a calculated tool. For as energetic as he was, there was always a certain volume that masked the way in which Hashirama played his cards close to his chest. 

And yet, for all the noise, it only took one look at Hashirama—one pointed gaze that pierced through his carefully crafted diplomatic demeanor—to understand your mutual situation instantly. 

He had come to begin damage control, and you had yet to tell Madara what Tobirama had done. As long as Hashirama wasn’t here to pick a fight, the discussions were still on the table, contrary to Tobirama’s earlier threat.

— “Hashirama?”

Madara’s voice cut through your mental stare. Hashirama’s shock was visible but melted quickly into an endearingly sheepish expression.

”My apologies, my friend, you must speak up!” he laughed. Madara groaned with a roll of his eyes, once again readjusting the deer on his shoulder. 

“I hardly have the time for these things!” He frowned. “What are you doing here, Hashirama? If you do not answer, we can settle your matter during daylight hours.”

“The sun still prevails!” Hashirama gestured loosely toward the setting sun, and in the golden light, you stole another pointed gaze toward each other. “But truly, I wanted to apologize for my brother.”

Madara glanced in your direction.

“Go inside.”

“You speak as if I have not participated in every diplomacy session for the last two sunsets,” you countered. 

Madara hardly had the time to eye you warily. And after a long hunt, Madara had too little patience for beating around the bush. He had truthfully wanted to be rid of you and Hashirama. But as he glanced between the two of you, he knew that trying to avoid one would pick a battle with the other. Reluctantly, Madara’s eyes settled on Hashirama.

“Tobirama should have been relieved that myself and the rest of the council were not here to humor his lapse in judgment,” Madara reluctantly gruffed with a deep scowl. “We may be engaging in peace negotiations, but bear in mind that the passing of my own brother was not all that long ago.”  

His words struck you, the weight of them looming overhead as your mind had yet to piece things together. 

“We may be on friendly terms with the Senju as a whole, but a killer entering our estate is pushing the limits on our… courtesy. Especially with a lady present with no guardian by her side.”

Madara didn’t talk much about Izuna or the nature of his death. Aside from the night Madara begged you to accompany him to the village negotiations, Izuna’s name hadn’t come up since, no matter how much you pushed.

You had wanted to talk about him so as not to let his memory fade, but Madara had refused to speak about the matter. You dropped it, a part of you trying to be understanding while the other was far too wrapped up in the fact that the ceasefire had turned your world upside down.

“Most certainly; we are in complete agreement.” Hashirama nodded profusely. “I will ensure that he will not play courier in the future.”

And yet, when Madara spoke of Izuna’s death to Hashirama on a random summer night in the clearing just outside the Uchiha dwellings, you knew the truth. You just didn’t quite believe it. It hadn’t hit you yet.

“That would be agreeable,” Madara agreed. A beat passed. Hashirama made no motion to leave or speak. “Anything else you wish to discuss?”

Hashirama stole another glance at you.

“Yes, in fact, this is not all I wanted to speak about—”

“I was not aware that Tobirama had been the one to kill Izuna,” you said, your voice projected by pure shock. But the volume aside, the words were enough to slice through the clearing and still the powerful men that stood before you. 

The entire sentence had been flat, devoid of shock, hurt, or anger. It was a statement in every sense of the word that nearly forced the air in the clearing to a thick, atmospheric standstill. 

It felt odd to say out loud like none of the words you spoke were words at all. You could feel the reality of it all floating around you, like tiny particles of truth hovering over your shoulders, ready to fill your chest like crashing waves. And yet, no sensation came. 

It was an objective truth devoid of sharpness, unable to penetrate the core of your soul. Reality felt numb, the shapes of things in your vision sharpening significantly as the most minute textures and details became glaring. 

You thought it would have felt as if the world was crashing down… and yet all you could feel was the warmth of the little embers that had been sparked in your chest.

Hashirama’s tongue recoiled as Madara turned toward you with regretful concern. 

“Is this true?” you asked. 

All Madara could do was look at you before deflating his chest with a deep sigh. He didn’t answer. Hashirama stood by. It didn’t take an emotional genius to recognize that now was hardly the time to have the conversation he had come all this way to have. And yet, the repercussions of leaving you and Madara to hash out the details surrounding his beloved brother’s death were even more daunting. 

“Hashirama—” It was another instance of Hashirama not being where his feet were. He blinked a few times, the motion of his surprise subtle as you and Madara stood closely before him. “Unless your matter is urgent, I must ask you to save this discussion for another date.”

Hashirama took a steady breath in, taking the nanosecond that he had to consider the facts in front of him. He saw Madara fatigued and moderately high-strung. And perhaps he could have worked with that if it wasn’t for the outlier: you. 

You stood by Madara’s side, having overstayed your welcome in the conversation long enough to have swerved the topic so off-topic that it would be impossible for Hashirama to even consider bringing up the indiscretion that Tobirama had committed against you. His brother had wronged both you and Madara. Hashirama knew he either had to nip it in the bud and risk making matters worse or leave the two of you alone. In doing so, he would be trusting that, for whatever reason, you would continue to hold your tongue about your interaction with Tobirama.

“Bah, woman, is it your intention to make things difficult? My shoulder has been bearing the weight of your dinner; I will have you know!”

“It is hardly the fault of my own!... Hunting in Nara territory… What were you thinking? You knew better than this!”

Madara scoffed.

“Better to ask forgiveness than permission.”

“Were not these the thoughts that clouded your brain when you held such crucial information away from me, Madara?”

Right. Right. 

Hashirama bobbed his head a few times and held one hand up to bid the two of you goodbye. Neither of you noticed. 

***

It always started with something like this: something that didn’t bother you until you and Madara bickered more and more. And suddenly, the jabs made half lightly turned into actual problems. Or perhaps they were problems when you initially picked a fight with him, masked by pettiness until you hardly had the restraint to hold your punches.

With Hashirama long forgotten, you bickered all over the Uchiha compound. Hell, you had exchanged words over Madara breaking down the deer he brought back. The antlers— you had decided over verbal blows— would be returned to the Nara to use in their medicine as a gesture of goodwill. Any additional meat that wasn’t roasted over the fire that the other Uchiha had been tending to outside would be salted and brought to the Nara aunties to be incorporated into the next day’s lunch. 

This all, of course, meant nothing to you in the face of the revelation you had uncovered during Madara’s and Hashirama’s conversation. 

“I had known that this would be the outcome,” Madara had sighed following a bombardment of questions. “I bring it upon myself at this point.”

It wasn’t until Madara was finished with all of his tasks and appeared to be looking for anything else to do that you finally cornered him on the engawa. 

“Why?” You had called into the night. 

You gazed at the back of Madara’s large form. Lanterns burned around you, casting a gentle, warm glow onto the wood at your feet. Fireflies and other creatures of the night hovered somewhere in the darkness, the blackness of the night making your wooden engawa feel like the only place in the world. And perhaps at that moment, the Uchiha dwellings were all that existed to you. 

“Was it a surrender?” you asked. You would nearly say you cried it, but no tears welled in your eyes. Your face scrunched, puzzled, as you tried to assemble the pieces. “Has this all been a convoluted way of us begging for our lives?”

Madara stood still, just like the world around you. You were sure he had something heated on his tongue, something along the lines of these things not affecting you. But it did affect you. 

Helplessness was not foreign to you, and yet, for everything that happened up until now, you have never felt as utterly helpless in your life.

You kept pushing and pushing him, knowing he would explode soon enough. But perhaps that was the point; you wanted him to explode. You wanted something, any sort of information that might make you feel less helpless than you felt. 

But for Madara’s infamous temper, he was resigned.

“I suppose it was a surrender in a sense,” he admitted. “For Hashirama defeated me in battle.” 

He kept talking, but you expected more. You expected to be told your place and to keep your nose out of things that weren’t your concern. 

It all made little sense to you. There was little logic to you in the first place. You were a simple apothecary— who shouldn’t have even had that position— becoming the most important Uchiha woman practically overnight. You shouldn’t have known a single detail. You shouldn’t have exchanged words with the Uchiha council, let alone national dignitaries. 

Madara was clan head. 

Madara should have been strong enough for the Uchiha. 

He was smarter than this. He was more driven than this, yet the Uchiha floundered on a field that wasn’t battle. Madara should have taken care of it all just as he promised! Madara shouldn’t have put any of it on your shoulders in asking you to be with him, especially if he knew he was out of his league. 

You wanted a fight.

You stared at the back of Madara’s head, watching as he began to retreat.

You took a deep breath in before you called, “And so you betray the last words of your brother?”

“Woman!” Madara roared for the first time that evening. He whipped around, the sheer tick in volume making you flinch. But even so, you faced him without fear, the ember in your chest flaring to life to form a great flame. You didn’t move from where you stood, even as Madara stepped forward. Your eyes widened in anticipation.

You were picking a lot of fights as of late.

He had a feral look in his eye that only intensified with the glow of his sharingan. The very sight of his red irises made you feel small, shrinking as you lowered your head, trying to hide your excited glee. You gritted your teeth, ready to engage in the verbal fisticuffs you graciously requested.

But to your disappointment, Madara almost seemed to deflate. His eyes closed as tension built up in his forehead. He ran a hand across his face with a deep sigh.

The nocturnal creatures of the forest continued to chirp around you. They were the only things keeping you anchored to the reality below your feet. 

“You want a story, do you?” Madara muttered in a soft tone that didn’t suit him. “You want me to tell you about my duel with Hashirama?”

His finger gently found the bottom of your chin. Madara tilted your head up before his arms coiled over his chest. It was another action that didn’t suit him, yet the night continued to surround you, enveloping you in a muted blanket of protection from the outside world. 

It felt like the summers of your youth. Festivities and special events happened during the day, leaving reprieve and anticipation to the night. The air in the Land of Fire was prone to mugginess to the point where it was almost stifling without the cool air that sailed through the trees. But even so, it smelled the same as it did back then. Your skin felt a bit sticky, but not to an overly uncomfortable extent. You were just warm, almost warm enough to sleep. 

“I had left our home in anger— in grief. I was fully intent on Hashirama and I killing each other the moment I tracked him down. And, as honorable as he is, Hashirama allowed the duel I sought. I suppose I should have known it would only result in a loss,” Madara narrated. Another victory for Hashirama was undoubtedly a blow to his ego, but Madara told the tale levelly. The tone in and of itself carried a great respect.

“And he had simply spared you,” you assumed.

“Nay,” Madara answered. “Hashirama had all the opportunity to finish me then and there. I had practically asked him to honor me with a warrior's death, for then perhaps I could have been reunited with Izuna… but instead, he presented me with a proposal.” Madara made a vague gesture. “This. These negotiations with the hope that we might stop fighting.”

You breathed. The lanterns flickered in the dark, only providing enough light to barely illuminate Madara’s somber face.

“And you believed him,” you finally spoke. “Why?”

Something flashed across Madara’s dark irises, a certain softness to pair with his regretful resignation.

“I would not expect you to understand,” he said. The corners of his lips dipped into a slight frown.

You let him simmer, once again unsatisfied. And truly, there was nothing else to do but probe, not when the Uchiha compound was the only thing comprising your world. Or perhaps it wasn’t the compound as much as it was the engawa upon which you and Madara stood.

“Do you consider that Hashirama believes in us as strongly as you believe in him?” you asked.

Another moment passed.

“Yes.”

“And what do you think of this in the context of all of this? Do you think Hashirama would be in favor of our equality in the village?”

“I believe that Hashirama holds pure intentions.” 

Hashirama, not the Senju. And certainly not the rest of the clans gathered. 

Your eyes narrowed.

“And you think that will make a difference?”

The embers in the lanterns suddenly flared, glowing only slightly bigger. The glow that cast across Madara’s face brightened for only a moment, making the shadows that enveloped his right side seem darker. His black hair held a golden sheen to it. 

“That is yet to be foreseen.”

***

Madara retired early that night. He decided he didn’t want to talk any further, rejecting all speak about Hashirama and Tobirama. Like before Hashirama’s visit, any further mention of Izuna was once again forbidden. But despite one thing in its singularity returning to normal, Madara, ever physical, arrogant, and stubborn, appeared far more pensive as of late. 

He was quiet. It was odd seeing him so quiet. It felt wrong seeing a fighter such as Madara so limp. Despite what your teenage self would have protested, you almost missed Madara’s pompous confidence and self-righteousness. As tiring as he was, his attitude always gave him a spark: a fire that had been missing ever since his defeat at the hands of Hashirama. 

You wanted to ask him, “Where is your fire?”

Perhaps it was because the context of bloodshed was the only place he knew how to fight in the first place. He might have known no other way. And yet, it was odd— painful even— to see Madara out of his element. 

He seemed lost, pushing toward a goal he did not even know how to achieve. His seemingly blind loyalty to Hashirama was another mystery. While Hashirama was undoubtedly a great man, you could hardly say you knew much about him. You undoubtedly didn’t know enough to wrap your head around Madara’s unyielding trust in the man whose throat he’d held a kunai to for a lifetime. Perhaps he was right when he said you wouldn’t understand. 

Perhaps none of it was Hashirama at all. A greater part of you knew that it wasn’t the defeat that plagued Madara’s mind, and that idea holed itself somewhere in the back of your thoughts. 

You couldn’t sleep. 

The memory of Izuna haunted you, something you thought you shoved into a neat lockbox the night Madara came to the apothecary. You hardly remembered him for his last, bitter interaction with you following the Uchiha council’s meeting, but rather the night following the failed raid on the Uchiha settlement. You remembered how he stood in your apothecary, surrounded by candlelight, marred by blood and gore despite his clean hands. 

“Why is it always about what Madara wants?” you had asked him, banking on Izuna picking up the subtext you were too afraid to say out loud. 

There was a brief moment, a second of thought, where you wondered if saying the quiet part out loud would have made a difference. Instead, he haunted you: a spirit of a dear childhood friend, a brother in all aspects but blood, and a potential of something and nothing that faded with the strike of Tobirama Senju’s sword.

Tobirama Senju: another man you wanted to forget. You refused to think of him at all. The mere thought of him made you cringe, yet the rage he had spurred on brought you here.

It was the one place where you thought you could feel a semblance of control over your present. You could sit in the council chambers and imagine what it would look like to have a novel idea. But now, you found yourself hiding again, pressed against a wooden beam in the dark as hushed voices deliberated inside. 

The memory of the initial meeting flashed across your thoughts as you stood outside the discussion hall. You had long since extinguished your lamp, holding it near your hip and close to the ground as you flared your sharingan. Your back met the outside of the hall, unabashedly listening in on the muffled conversation within. 

The walls were made of paper, as was traditional, and any structure that wasn’t made of paper was made of wood. The walls of the Uchiha meeting hall were made similarly, and you couldn’t help but wonder if your many nights of peering through those cracks were to prepare you for this very moment. 

You were drawn to the hall, following only aimless instinct after your discussion with Madara.

“And you think it wise to offer the Uchiha such a central location?” You heard. You weren’t acquainted well enough with all the clan heads to properly recall who was speaking. It sounded like Hyūga if you were to take a guess. A laugh resounded from inside the meeting room.

“Do you desire their proposed allocation?”

“Certainly not.”

“Then leave it be,” the second voice said, “You knew as well as I that any intelligence that Madara holds ends at the battlefield. Best to get them out of the way now. From there, we have more room to talk policy.”

The voices drifted, and as the collection of clan leaders trickled into the hall, you swiftly fled into the forest line to lie in wait. The collection of clan leaders slowly trickled out of the conference building, chattering amongst themselves. The head of the Fuma clan, an old ally of the Uchiha, and Inuzuka, to your surprise, were among the gathered. 

It was long past sunset, but that didn’t seem to affect the way they loitered outside the conference hall before slowly departing back toward their respective dwellings. You observed their hushed whispers from the canopy of a tree, sitting amongst rough wood and biting insects until the clan heads and their respective trustees left into the dark. 

You waited. You waited a few moments longer to ensure they all had left before you dismounted from your hiding place. Slowly, you approached the hall and quietly slipped in the door. 

The negotiation hall was still. And only when you determined that no one was left in the building did you relight the ember of your lantern. You scoured the rooms, starting with the one the three clan heads had just met in.

You weren’t surprised when you found it exactly how it had been set up. The room was spotless, with everything neatly in place, as you’d expect from high-ranking shinobi. 

You wandered to the main negotiation room just down the hall, where all the clan heads would gather again the next morning. It, too, was still.

You placed your lamp down at the table, taking a seat in Madara’s chair. You gazed across the room at where Hashirama would sit the next day. A neutral painting hung on the wall above his seat.    

You thought about the way Madara reluctantly consented to your use of the sharingan to record the conversation. You thought back to the charged looks exchanged between you, Madara, Hashirama, and Tobirama. How could you forget? 

You took a small stack of pages from your robes, a quill from your hair, and a bottle of ink from a string around your waist. You kept an internal record of the meeting and, by extension, a written one. Papers quickly consumed your waking hours since the discussions began. 

The other council members, Madara included, hardly touched papers, let alone put a quill to them. And plot to undermine the Uchiha aside, the whispering clan heads were correct. The Uchiha council were warriors through and through. The entire council had been chosen through battle, as Madara had been chosen as clan head. Scribing was not in their wheelhouse, nor was it in their interests.

It had only been a short time since negotiations began, hardly a week, let alone a handful of days. The Uchiha had yet to give a formal dissertation. Rather, Madara spoke strongly about what he was in favor of, what ideas he rejected, and almost predominantly off-cuff when it came to any ideas he had of his own. Ones that he almost always failed to share with you until it mattered.  

You had penned a few of these rough notes down on the pages below your wrists. As you studied the pen strokes, you couldn’t help but consider that many of Madara’s ideas were strikingly coherent, branching into topics from economic policy to the village grid. However, they lacked structure, well-thought-out details, and were surface-level at best. It didn’t matter how good his speeches were or how well you penned your notes if they couldn’t hold up to basic probing. 

The Uchiha didn’t have a proposal, especially not in the way that other clans did, but were expected to speak soon. Other clans were far better with organization, preparing lengthy dissertations and proposals that would be open for discussion and, ultimately, a vote. A haphazard way of running things, the proposed ideas were arranged by category and run through several rounds of deliberations and cuts until the most popular compromise prevailed.

You studied your handwriting, and the ink started to look less and less like words. You couldn’t make sense of it either, and for all the times your breath hitched when Madara should have done something different during the conference, you had no better ideas yourself. Rather, it took several read-throughs to wrap your head around the complex topics, hardly knowing a good idea from a bad one.

The Uchiha were a battle-minded clan, and you were a woman apothecary who was almost entirely self-taught. Then there was Madara. His struggle with bureaucratic competency aside, he might not have said it, but Madara was incredibly invested in a village of unity. You could see it when you spoke on the engawa. Madara himself aside, it was the only way forward where the Uchiha could even think of seeing the future. 

You considered your leverage and the grief that plagued Madara’s heart. Finally, the unlikely last piece of the puzzle was the negotiations as a whole. 

You gathered the documents and slid them into a hidden compartment of your robes for safekeeping. The warm glow of the tiny ember in your lamp illuminated your face in golden orange light before you blew the flame out. The smoke wafted up into the air, leaving the scent of burning in your nose.

***

A water fixture sat near the Senju dwellings. And at the risk of sounding dubious with your words, its structure felt very Senju in a way you couldn’t quite put your finger on. The water ran from a small pond adorned with lilies and tall grasses and down a manufactured stream lined with round river stones. 

You made your way through the yard, stopping in the center to watch the stream run across the stone. Although, it appeared you weren’t quite as stealthy as you thought you were.

“I could have sworn you were Madara coming to take my head for my transgressions.” 

When you turned, Tobirama was ducking through the doorway and emerging out from the darkness of the Senju dwellings and onto the engawa. You turned away from the stream, quelling the startled jump in your chest. He was, after all, who you had come to see. 

Tobirama’s expression was neutral: neither pleased nor displeased with your arrival at the Senju dwellings so late at night. His surprise, however, was palpable in the air. The feeling was mutual.

You opened your mouth to speak, but before you could utter a word, Tobirama stepped down from the tall engawa and onto the ground below. It all happened quickly: the near effortless leap to the garden to meet you, your panicked step back, and as Tobirama began to bow, you had quickly ordered him to stop.

He had made it to one knee, seeming to freeze in place with the one word for him to halt. It was another instance where you had confused the both of you. His eyes cast down somewhere random; his forehead crinkled as he pondered his actions and wondered where he had gone wrong. Tobirama placed his other knee on the ground and gripped the pebbles below, fully intending to repent with a deep bow. 

Clans and other politics were far from his mind. He was ready to place his pride aside to grovel, but you scolded him again.

“Stop.” It was hard to determine exactly what your tone was. Not quite angry, not quite frightened, your voice was far from neutral and yet far too composed to place an emotion properly. As much as your heart beat loudly in your chest, Tobirama hardly knew better. How could he in the face of your scornful gaze? “Get up.”

Tobirama made piercing eye contact from his bowed position. You stood a distance before him, fists balled and jaw tensed. 

Slowly, he rose to his feet. Even when his face was nearly on the ground, Tobirama held a presence over the courtyard, and the energy he reined over hardly dwindled as he stood at his full height.

He was tall, perhaps even taller than Madara, and yet you hardly felt the domineering presence you grew used to in the Uchiha settlement. You practically expected it from a warrior as bulky and stoic as Tobirama. He seemed to have grown bitter in the years you had been apart. Hardened. Logical. And yet the dark chakra that seemed to drip from Madara in spades was not present in the Senju courtyard. 

Tobirama almost made himself another fixture of the garden, one you might glaze over if your eyes were to bounce across the foliage. You weren’t great at sensing the chakra of others unless the output was explicit— you were hardly one to use jutsu on a regular basis— but if Tobirama was letting any of his energy slip, you couldn’t sense an ounce. He was calm, ready to accept whatever punishment you were there to serve him.

In fact, he reminded you of…

“Is it true that you were the one who had slain Izuna?”

“Yes.”

The answer came quicker than you thought it would. In its singularity, the word was void of a brag or a boast. It came quickly, the noise not overstayed in the air—a singular truth.

You huffed, squaring your shoulders as you swiftly marched forward. You hitched the sleeve of your robes as you did, quickly closing the gap between the two of you as you wound up for a hefty strike. You walked until you were directly in front of Tobirama, arm cocked and at the ready. But for as quickly as the ember inside of you had flared to life, it extinguished into little more than smoke.

Tobirama had closed his eyes, and you hadn’t noticed that he had actually lowered himself a bit to allow better access to strike his face. When the hit didn’t come, he opened his eyes again, ever-neutral. 

You took a step back and lowered your arm, and it wasn’t until you were a few steps away that Tobirama stood tall once more. Then, he waited. 

“Hashirama and Madara… they have met before,” you spoke the accusation softly. 

“Yes, they were friends once.” His voice rumbled like he was narrating a story. Tobirama was straightforward, and the new information came with neither fondness nor judgment. After all, who was Tobirama to judge the way in which Madara and Hashirama met?

 You took a deep breath in before letting a steady stream of air out. The motion melted some of the tension in your shoulders. It was just one new piece of knowledge you didn’t know before, yet the affirmation of your suspicions somehow made you feel slightly less alone.

“Did they meet—” You only wondered momentarily if you should say the quiet part out loud. — “Were they like us? The way we met?”

“I suppose,” Tobirama answered. “Although���” He glanced away for a moment that barely caused a pause in his words before meeting your eyes once again. —- “I hardly believe that the two of them were doing anything like… what we were doing.” 

You quickly tore your gaze away.

“You have become bitter and vulgar.”

“It is simply the truth.”

The small stream continued to trickle behind you, and the sound of water pouring over water was a constant background noise to your aimless conversation. You took another deep breath. 

“You have more,” Tobirama said. Aside from the few times you had witnessed his temper, you found that Tobirama tried to hold things close to his chest. This included the question behind his simple, three-letter sentence. You wondered, during the time between him talking and you answering, if it was because of his temper that he tried to keep so stoic.

“While Madara certainly seems confident that the Senju will not betray us, I would like a safety net.”

“The Senju have no intentions of betraying the Uchiha,” Tobirama put plainly and curtly. He pushed back on you a bit more forcefully this time, red irises boring into you. “Might I remind you that Hashirama took the initiative and spared the Uchiha—”

“I do not truly care for the minutia.” You didn’t know the whole story, but you weren’t about to let Tobirama know that.

“Well, you should.” The corner of his lips twitched downward slightly, but he gave little else. “If you are to engage in these negotiations, I would advise you to keep the details in mind.” 

“It does not take a genius to realize that the Uchiha are perceived as a threat to be undermined during negotiations.”

“We are the wrong people to be having these discussions.” His words came out more like a sigh, despite the mounting pressure of your exchange.

Tobirama shook his head, melting a bit into a more relaxed stance as he did. He was certainly still tense, but the deflating of his shoulders only highlighted the stress that had filled them moments ago. 

“Hashirama has no intention of acting in any other way than good faith. He and your clan head want this village to become a reality the most, you know,” he said.

Tobirama waited for you to respond, pursing his lips inward. He nodded a few times as if something else was on his mind. The time that passed when you didn’t respond appeared to make him restless.

“Your people will defend themselves as much as you will collaborate with others,” he continued. “It is truly not so different than any other negotiation you have done. Perhaps even similar to that of your alliances with the Fuma and the Hagoromo.”

“Most certainly,” you said, vaguely recalling the exchange of sake cups between the two allied clan heads with little other discourse. The Uchiha had, after all, been the most powerful force in the area, and an alliance saved both clans from being pushed from their territories. They had little to stand on other than a few generations of goodwill and Madara’s favor.

“I am confident the proposal that Madara has written up is a strategy that will give every scribe a run for their coin indeed,” Tobirama huffed begrudgingly.

“Most certainly.” You nodded, wondering if you had missed word about a monetary fee. You didn’t quite understand him. It must have been a Senju turn of phrase.

The stream continued to babble in the background. The night only seemed to grow darker, almost completely enveloping the lone lantern that glowed at the far end of the compound. Even so, the light was enough to make out the bare minimum of your surroundings, and your superior vision made up for the rest. Tobirama didn’t appear bothered by the lack of light. You wondered if he felt just as nostalgic meeting in the dark as you did. 

“Madara does not have a plan, does he?”

“Most certainly not.” You probably shouldn’t have answered so honestly, especially in the context of the negotiations and your long, strained history with Tobirama Senju, but he was going to deduce it either way. “That is why I am here.”

Tobirama’s bottom lip tensed. You could tell he was trying to fight a disdainful scowl. He wasn’t doing a great job. 

“Did my brother not already pay a visit to the Uchiha dwellings?”

“Yes, he did.”

“Did I not already try offering you my deepest apologies—” You hummed in confirmation. — “To which you had refused?”

“You can offer your apologies in a different way—you know politics and formalities. You are good with your words. Seeing you at the unity banquet was enough to know this.” You squared your shoulders, tilting your chin up. Your gaze drifted away momentarily as you fished for the documents in your robes. “You may offer your apologies by assisting the Uchiha in formulating a compelling proposal—”

“Absolutely not.”

— “That will ensure our fair share of resources and land in the unified village. And the Senju will back us on the matters we pursue.” You held out the notes you took. Tobirama barely craned his neck to glance at them before he crossed his arms over his chest. “That is how you can repent for laying your hands on me… and for striking down Izuna.”

Tobirama’s piercing gaze flickered up to yours. He apparently gave up his efforts to suppress his scowl. 

“You are absolutely mad.”

“I believe that I am being fairly calm.”

He leaned forward, bending slightly at the waist. His arms were still coiled over his chest.

“You are absolutely out of your head,” Tobirama corrected, gesturing to his temple before returning to his upright position. You understood that one. Tobirama nearly waved you off then and there. “You know that what you demand is impossible, just as much as it is ethically dubious. You cannot expect this of me with any ounce of true seriousness. This is all not to mention that the thing you hold is hardly even a proposal! They, they— they are scribbles at best.”

“If your answer is no, then perhaps your clan— as well as the others— should be aware of your actions,” you snapped, pulling out the weapon that Tobirama was waiting all this time to hear. “The Uchiha are out of their league. I would rather utilize your skillset than cause waves amongst the clans, but I will do so if I must.”

“If that is what you deem appropriate, then so be it,” Tobirama spoke sharply. A pang reverberated throughout your chest. He had called your bluff. “Actions have consequences, and I am ready to atone for my own.” 

“I am presenting a way for you to now.”

“I would have much preferred if you struck me if I can speak candidly,” Tobirama muttered. He shifted where he stood, shaking his head. His shoulder jerked back to adjust the way his robes sat. “I cannot play advisor for Madara. I apologize; I cannot do this for you… There are boundaries for these things.”

Tobirama spoke in the way he always did: neutrally, resigned, and lacking in true harshness despite the nature of his words. He stared at you, once again waiting for you to speak. 

“Well then,” you spoke, having little clue what was actually going to come out of your mouth next. You stood a bit straighter, steeling your resolve. You placed a hand over your chest. “Play advisor to me. Review what I have written. Ensure that Hashirama supports it by daylight.”

Tobirama said nothing as he quirked an eyebrow. And slowly, his cold exterior began to crack from the brows down. He snorted, his shoulders bouncing as his head dropped into an amused swivel. 

You hardly noticed how your breath hitched or when you began holding it. But when the air left your chest, it did so with a stuttering, burning huff. The hiccups between the stream of air held the remaining face you held. 

And not one to be laughed at, you turned to leave.

Tobirama only spoke as you began to march away.

“Alright.”

The singular word made you freeze in your tracks. Tobirama’s head dipped again somewhere behind you, bobbing a few times as his arms uncoiled and his hands found his hips. By the time you turned around, Tobirama’s mouth had formed a tight line, barely restraining the amused smirk that tugged at his cheeks. 

“Pardon?” You blinked.

“Alright,” he repeated, the semblance of a smile melting into a serious expression once more. “My debt is to you, not Madara,” he hummed with a bounce of his brows. “I will take a look at your drafts as long as they were written by you.” Tobirama nodded in affirmation, gesturing toward you to accent his counteroffer.

You breathed in, an awful pang reverberating through your chest. Overcome by a moment of pure instinct and guts, you hadn’t thought he’d take you seriously. 

Wait—

“And you are aware that I know nothing of politics!” You gulped, a part of you thinking that perhaps Tobirama would revoke his consent in favor of your earlier proposition. 

What were you thinking?

“Not much less than Madara from your explanation,” Tobirama muttered with another bounce of his light eyebrows. 

“That is different!” you snapped. “Madara is at least a—” 

The sight of Tobirama’s narrowing eyes made you falter. They moved almost independently of the rest of his face, shrinking inward in scrutiny before returning to their original size. It all happened with one subtle beat, but it was enough to throw you off your train of thought.

Seeming to sense your hesitation, Tobirama continued,

“You have put these ideas belonging to Madara to paper. Continue to do this. Probe him for details, granted he has them, and have the draft approved by Madara. I will assist you in polishing the final product.” Tobirama nodded, almost seeming to warm up the idea in real time as the corner of his mouth dipped in thought. “The Uchiha will receive what they fight for— I cannot make guarantees— but in terms of atonement, I agree to guide your strategy.”

Your strategy. He spoke as if you were some military officer.

“It is a deal.” You didn’t give yourself time to think. You couldn’t afford it, and if you changed your mind later, you were sure you could burn that bridge when you got to it. He was giving you exactly what you wanted, after all. You had little room to complain after the fact.

You offered Tobirama a nod, wanting little else than to retreat. But when you turned on your heel to disappear into the night, Tobirama called your name. 

It spilled from his lips in an almost questioning tone, as if he had something to add, but the fact that he had called you at all made you stop in your tracks. The syllables sounded weird coming from him, and it occurred to you that it was the first time you heard him speak your name in years. 

You turned, your heart beating heavily and steady in your chest as you met Tobirama’s eye. He cleared his throat.

“The blackmail—” His head dipped as if you were trying to hide the way his lips contorted into a slight smile before his gaze returned to yours. —“It was a nice touch.”

Your voice stalled in your throat.

“I am sure that it will make you think twice the next time you are about to behave brutishly,” you oped with a frown. It was officially too late in the night for further repartee. 

“Certainly it shall.” Tobirama bowed his head, and when he looked up, you were gone.

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed, and supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

Notes: Part of me wanted to make everything up until now split into Act I and Act II, with this section being maybe Act II or III. Because it feels like a different story, doesn't it? And it feels like it's just starting. This is where the crux of what I wanted to write is actually coming which is crazy. Go figure... 11 chapters of set up.

A recommendation for the Madara fans; The Head, The Neck (Madara x Reader) reads like an alternate universe in which you let Madara marry you. Unfortunately, 'tis only a oneshot. Foul Creature did have a sister series that also took place in the village negotiations and featured Madara as the main love interest. However, I don't think I'll drop the link to that since I don't have plans to update it anytime soon.

I think I'm going to set a loftier goal for the next chapter. I miss Yonji and want to write a chapter of ... And the Beast before chapter 12 of this series. This one is also so long it should be enough content to hold everyone over. Let's set it at 100 likes and 50 reblogs, no restrictions. See you later.

Tag list: @gracefulbumblebee @norasincubi @rahatake @frvv

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Full chapter list: Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VII Part VIII Part IX Part X

[tired-biscuit]

A friend, a mate, and all things in-between

18+ MDNI, fem!reader/werewolf!bsf!kiba

premise: after finding out the truth about the role you supposedly play in kiba’s life, you settle on a compromise of taking things slow and seeing where the wind takes you while you’re at it.

cw: monsterfucking, knotting, implied breeding, mounting, size difference, omegaverse themes, werewolf saliva used as aphrodisiac. college/modern AU, friends to lovers, established mating bond, jealousy, descriptions of a close call-cheating encounter in the past, usage of sweetheart and bunny as pet names for reader.

wc: 22.8k

find part one here!

———

On Saturday, Kiba takes you out for dinner, exactly like he’d promised.

The restaurant by the lake that you’ve decided to visit is quaint as much as it is familiar. The lighting is dim but warm, and the tables are clean even if some of the edges have been smoothed out with age and use. Pictures and framed newspaper articles cover the walls. All of them feature your little town in some way or another.

There’s a pleasant tune playing on the tiny, white speakers that are fixed in the corner. You’re pretty sure you’ve heard the song on the radio before. The easy-going notes resemble the elevator music you sometimes hear whenever you go shopping at the local mall and have to reach the garage underneath, but that doesn’t mean it’s bad, necessarily.

If you had to describe the place, it reminds you of a diner that’s gotten stuck in the past, that is if a diner was situated next to a lake and the modern aspects of it were entirely excluded, of course.

After all, there is a shiny new coffee machine sitting behind the counter, and the waitress is wearing a pair of skinny jeans and a t-shirt instead of a uniform and rollerblades — the latter being a missed opportunity in your opinion.

But speaking of time; both yourself and Kiba used to come here all the time back when you were younger, even going so far back that your feet were left dangling in the air as soon as your butts had plopped onto the same plushy chairs you’re sitting in now. Making choices was easier back then — the only food you ordered had come from the kids menu.

You can still hear his, ‘Are ya gonna finish that?’ somewhere in the back of your mind. 

As well as his mother’s immediate hiss of disapproval, ‘For goodness’ sake, boy, let the poor girl eat her food in peace! With the way you’re acting, people are gonna start thinking that I don’t feed you enough.’

In the beginning, you both ate here with your parents. Afterwards — when the soles of your sneakers were able to firmly touch the floor and Kiba had won the bet and got his driver’s license well before you did — it was mostly just the two of you.

But as you sit across from him at the table that’s situated right next to the window, and which you’ve personally favoured for years — you know that he prefers the one that’s in the corner — you come to realize that this date is different from all the previous ones that you’ve been on in this exact place with him.

Because unlike the rest, this one is actually for real.

And it shows, you think. In many ways, with the most obvious one being the fact that your best friend has tidied himself up rather nicely despite the high temperatures outside.

There are jeans instead of gym shorts on his strong legs, and clean shoes on his feet instead of the busted sneakers that he swears up and down are still holding on just fine. He’s even gone through the hassle of putting on a short-sleeved button-up with a pretty pattern that cleverly melds into the colour of the cotton if you’re looking closely enough — not that you are!

In classic Kiba fashion, the top two buttons of his shirt are undone; open just enough for the glint of a thin golden chain to catch your eye whenever he tilts his head to the side or stretches his neck.

You haven’t been staring at the piece of jewelry for long, wondering where or who he’d gotten it from, however you can still tell that there’s no pendant hanging off the necklace. No charm or initial either.

Good.

Wait, wait, wait… why is that good? Are you by any chance hoping that he’ll agree to wear yours because of it?

The thought succeeds in heating up your face with stress — a popular emotion this entire situation has been evoking as of late. Ever since he had admitted that you were his mate back in the tent, you’re still feeling the pressure of deciding if you actually want to be one. 

And placing a mark like that on him, clasping your golden initial around his neck and consequently announcing that he’s your property now… It’d signal just that, now wouldn’t it?

Attempting to whisk away the dilemma that’s been plaguing your mind for the last couple of days, you force your eyes to dip from your best friend’s neck, down to the plate of half-eaten food that you’ve still got sitting in front of you. 

Your grip on the fork is tight as you chew. The food is good, even if you can’t taste it all that much from how absent-minded you are.

In a mere instant, Kiba is leaning in to ask, “You okay?”

He’s always asking that as of late.

Are you all right?

Is everything okay?

Are you sure?

“Yeah.” The nod you give him is so stiff and fast that it comes across as unnatural instead of genuine. “I’m fine.”

You try to ignore the curious smile that curls his lips as he continues to watch you eat, undoubtedly inhaling the anxiety that riddles your scent in subtle waves now. 

He’s learned that it intensifies whenever his foot accidentally touches yours underneath the table. That it doubles in strength whenever he looks you in the eyes for too long. Sometimes it even happens when he grins. Practically everything seems to be setting you off today.

You’re nervous, that much is clear. Are way up in your head about this entire thing just like you are with everything else that happens in your life. And while finding out that you’re basically a perfect biological match for your best friend is no small feat, the young werewolf’s opinion remains: you need to fucking relax. 

With how hard you’re squeezing that fork, it’s making him fear that you’re trying to split it in half — an act that he definitely wouldn’t mind doing to you again.

Woah there, reel it back in, lover boy… Easy!

Willing himself to push the dirty thought away by thinking about the food he’s eating instead, Kiba swallows the bite of steak he’d just been chewing on with a small, albeit conflicted sigh. 

The meat tastes rich despite the fact that it’s been served nearly raw — the bloodier, the better when it comes to dining with a werewolf, you suppose — however, he finds it hard to fully appreciate the meal when unlike his taste buds, his libido is far from appeased.

“Anyways.” He pauses to glide the tip of his tongue across his front teeth, further appreciating the savory taste that’s stuck there before he leans in slightly closer again. “You look really pretty tonight.”

Hearing his compliment, you look up from your plate; carefully eyeing him from underneath your lashes which you’ve taken the time to coat with a thin layer of mascara before leaving the house. It was a decision made solely for your own peace of mind.

Well, probably. 

Taking a shallow breath now, you ask, “I do?”

“What kind of stupid question is that… ‘Course you’re pretty, bunny. You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever had the pleasure of layin’ my eyes on,” he says, chuckling quietly and propping his cheek against one palm with such ease that it’s almost scary.

Watching you succumb further into yourself in response to his niceness is entertaining as hell, he can’t lie. You’re lost, vulnerable. If looks as sweet as the one that’s sitting on your face right now had the power to kill, he’d be proclaimed a dead man ages ago. 

It compels him to add, “You’ve always been pretty to me.”

Messing with you or not, what he says now is the truth. Sticking by your side in the role of your best friend for so many years, Kiba has seen you be at your best as often as he’s experienced you at your worst, and has nonetheless always, always thought the exact same thing about you: that you’re perfect. 

Perfect for him, that is.

Whether you’re wearing trendy skirts or hoodies so big that they entirely hide your shape, he still likes you all the same. Whether you’re walking around with freshly washed hair and with make-up on your face, or you’re still stumbling around because you’ve just woken up from a nap that has left you all disoriented and sweaty — to him there’s no difference as long as it’s you.

Part of it is the bond’s doing. It veils you with an appeal that draws him to you no matter what. However, whilst that may be the case, he thinks that the majority of his wild infatuation has to do with plain familiarity instead.

After all, it’s your heart that is his favourite thing about you, that much he’s positive about… Even if the shy little smile that you give him now could be considered quite the competitor. 

And quite the competitor it is! Kiba’s eyes are practically glued to the wet-like sheen of your lip gloss when you slowly shake your head to chide a meek, “Stop it.”

“Stop what?” he inquires immediately with a grin of his own.

“Stop flirting,” you say, placing the fork back onto your plate with a soft clink. Crossing your legs underneath the table, your body language is trying its hardest to appear strict as you add, “We said we were going to take it slow, remember…? Or are you just playing dumb on purpose?”

“What’re you talking about; we are taking it slow,” he says, his tone a matter-of-fact one. “Actually, I doubt it can get much slower than this.”

Your lips purse in response. “Talking in a way that makes you sound like you’re trying to get into my pants does not mean slow, Kiba.”

“You’re not wearing any pants, though.” His gaze slips down to the light sundress you’ve put on for the night. It makes your tits look great, but he knows you wouldn’t be happy to hear that.

You snap your fingers in front of his nose, forcing him to avert his attention from your dress. “That’s besides the point and you know it.”

“Oh, c’mon.” He takes another bite of his food, then points his fork at you, seemingly in an accusatory type of way as he mutters, “I’m just saying… If we did it my way, I would’ve bent you over ages ago.”

“Can… Can you not?! God.” You fight to extinguish the heat that immediately begins to simmer on your cheeks, but it’s proving to be quite difficult. The warmth is so strong that it even manages to travel down to the base of your neck. “Just… be quiet for a second, okay?”

His upper lip twitches as his grin widens. “Why?”

“Just ‘cause!”

Kiba huffs a laugh at the slightly higher pitch that you speak in now, shoulders shaking the tiniest bit. He watches you clear your throat and readjust in your seat, and even goes as far as to drag his gaze from your face to your neck when you reach over to take a small sip of the cocktail you’ve ordered. It still sits on the table looking half-full; creating a prominent circle of moisture on the crispy white table cloth underneath. 

The drink is colourful and summery. Even has a little paper umbrella on top. He had joked about how girly it looks earlier, but had secretly considered ordering the exact same thing just to see what the inside of your mouth must taste like. After some consideration, he’d ended up settling on a coke though.

He knows you’d nag him to no end about drinking when he’s the one who’s driving… even if alcohol doesn’t do shit when it comes to him.

Still, girly drink or not, the ice somewhat succeeds in cooling you off and poses a challenge to the sudden heat of bashfulness that threatens to sweep you off your feet. It’s like all your senses have gone acute all of a sudden.

The sigh you let out because of it is one of only partial relief.

“What’s the matter? You hot?” Kiba teases instantly, his voice dropping so dangerously low that you can almost feel it reverberate in your bones. “Hot and bothered?”

“Shut up,” you hiss before taking another sip, this time a larger one. You need it if you wish to endure this menace of a man.

“What’s in it for me?” the mentioned menace questions now, taunting you with that infuriating half-smile that he knows damn well provokes you immensely. He even goes as far as to wiggle his eyebrows as he gives his best effort to purr, “Does it make you feel things, mm? Makes you wanna— Hey!”

His taunting gets replaced with a huff of disapproval when you suddenly kick him in the shin, making the fork rattle atop your plate. The kick itself is nowhere near to being powerful enough to actually hurt him, considering his thick skin and the firm cords of muscle that hide underneath, but it does get the message across. Kind of.

“What’d you do that for?” A playful little pout sits on Kiba’s mouth now. It makes him look younger than he actually is; makes him resemble the kid that you spent all your time with back in high school, as well as all the years prior to that. 

“Because it was well deserved, you dumbass,” you mumble, still staring at his face. A small, slightly less nervous chuckle bubbles up your throat when he bristles in answer. “Now be quiet and eat your dinner.”

Not even batting an eye, he blurts out, “I’d rather eat you, though.”

You give it your best shot to scowl at him even if the tease sparks heat somewhere inside your middle all over again. It’s the reason why your voice doesn’t sound as strong as you want it to be when you say, “You’re hopeless, you know that? Actually hopeless.”

“Actually, I think I'm quite on my game tonight.” He gives you a wink, reaching for his fork again. “But you can keep tellin’ yourself that if it makes ya feel any better, sweetheart.”

He’s right. 

It makes you sigh.

———

The rest of your first proper date with your best friend goes well. Scarily so.

In fact, neither of you picks up the phone during the entirety of it. The only exception is when you decide to stalk your old classmates from high school together and share a good laugh about some of the results you stumble upon.

“Oh shit, he’s actually completely bald… What the hell?”

“Called it! I fuckin’ called it!”

Your face hurts from laughing so much and with the initial nervousness gone, dinner goes smoothly. You end up sharing dessert and talking nearly until closing time — releasing the growingly impatient waitress from your clutches at long last and mumbling sheepish apologies along the way because of it. 

To be honest, the entire outing isn’t much different from all the previous ones you’ve indulged in the exact same restaurant all those years ago.

However, you soon find out that that is because the change in your dynamic presents itself afterwards; when he turns to look you in the eye the second you sit in his car and asks you if you want to go to his place, despite the fact that it’s getting late and he doesn’t live with his mom anymore.

And you go. You nod your head yes and you fucking go. For what reason, you, yourself don’t know, but you might as well find out while you’re at it.

So around quarter to midnight, you arrive to the little apartment that Kiba calls his new home. It’s cozy and a little messy, though not to a degree that should cause concern. Otherwise, it’s lived in and definitely your standard guy apartment.

He shows you the kitchen, immediately rolling his eyes when your gaze lands onto the small pile of dishes in the sink — two cereal bowls and a mug that for some reason says ‘World’s Best Dad’ on it — and points you in the direction of the bathroom, his roommate’s bedroom, and finally, his own room, which you tell him you’ll take a look at some other time, preferably during the day and when you don��t have three sugary cocktails coursing your blood and clouding your better judgement. 

You did say that you were going to take it slow, after all.

By the time he drags you into the living room, you let out a small gasp of joy when you come face to face with Akamaru, who lays curled up on the couch, depicting the epitome of comfort.

Scurrying to sit down next to the big pup and offering him your hand to sniff so that he can hopefully recognize you despite not seeing you in years, you begin to understand what Kiba had meant with the term ‘senior dog’ during your camping trip earlier.

Christ, he’s gotten so old.

“So, what do you think?” your best friend calls out from the hallway now. He’d gone there to hang up your jacket for you at first, but it seems like he’s also using the chance to turn off the lights as he goes. 

…As well as to run off into his room to change his fancy clothes for a pair of comfortable sweatpants and a simple T-shirt. Typical.

“It’s a nice place. Pretty spacious.” You’re too busy petting Akamaru, pretending you aren’t interested in him when he throws himself onto the couch right next to you, even if your body tenses up just the tiniest bit at the closeness.

You’ve already fucked him, for crying out loud — several times in the span of one night. What are you acting so damn nervous for?

“But?” he mumbles, seemingly not noticing the subtle change in your body language as he crosses his ankles and flicks on the television. 

“What do you mean but? There’s no but,” you chide in answer, still scratching the white canine behind the ears and really trying to put all your focus into the movement instead of the warmth of your best friend’s body that is slowly spilling into your side now. 

The brown patches in Akamaru’s fur have gotten dull in colour with old age. His eyes look tired and he’s also nowhere as lively as he used to be, though he still puts in the effort to give you an appreciative little wag of his tail when your fingers dig into the sweet spot that you remember is hiding underneath his chin. 

“There’s always a but with you,” Kiba insists, changing the channel yet again. He’s not paying attention to the TV, not really anyways, but he pretends that he does just so that you can breathe a little easier.

However, when you turn your head so that you can shoot him a glare for the sly remark, you catch him staring right back at you with that stupidly lovestruck smile playing on his lips.

Lowering your gaze, you try to act like it doesn’t cause butterflies to start fluttering inside your belly. Meanwhile, he tries to act like he can’t smell the sudden sweetness that the feeling evokes in your scent.

“Oh, fine.” You pause, ceasing the petting for a moment. “I suppose it could use a little bit of a woman’s touch here and there… And you definitely could’ve washed the dishes prior to inviting me, but that’s all.”

“For your information, I didn’t wash the dishes ‘cause it’s Kankuro’s turn to do ‘em,” he says. And grins. “And if the place really needs a woman’s touch as badly as you say it does, then you’re more than welcome to touch it all over.”

“Kankuro is your roommate, I take it?” you ask, choosing to skip over the thing he’s hinting at. The butterflies still continue to flutter, though.

“Yep,” Kiba replies, playing with the remote now. The symbol on the power button has long since faded out with use and it doesn’t surprise him really. Him and Kankuro had found the TV on Facebook Marketplace. Bought it so cheap that it felt like a steal.

You listen to the quiet click of claws as Akamaru slides off the couch and ventures down the hallway, aiming straight towards Kiba’s bedroom. He’s probably going to use the chance to hog up as much space on the bed as he possibly can before his owner can beat him to it. Smart dog.

“What’s he like?” you inquire. “This Kankuro guy?”

“He’s, you know… Kanks is just a regular dude as far as I’m concerned,” your best friend says, still staring at the remote. “Cleans up after himself and is good with Akamaru. He does that cosplayin’ shit from time to time, though… Paints his face for those anime conventions that you see online and stuff. It’s pretty dope.”

“Does he know about,” you trail off, making sure to lower your voice just in case, “you know… The whole howling at the moon thingy?”

“Fuck no.” Kiba shakes his head, his lips curling into a smile. “You, Hana and mom are still the only ones who know, but now I’m kind of starting to think that I should’ve kept it a family secret instead of telling your dorky ass about it… Howling at the moon thingy? What are ya; twelve?”

You stick your tongue out at him at the remark. He tries not to stare at it for too long.

“Say…” A couple of moments pass. Your gaze dips to your lap as you ask, “How come you never told Tamaki?”

The mention of his ex-girlfriend makes Kiba want to cringe. His smile falters, twitching downwards at the corners, but he forces it to remain at least semi-present despite the fact that you’re not looking at him. Either your hands must have become the most interesting thing in the world, or you’re ashamed for inquiring about his past relationships.

“Ah, you know,” he mutters after a short moment of silence. His tone sounds very distant out of the blue. “Just never found the right time for it, I suppose.”

You hum at his answer; just a little noise of acknowledgement. “You never found the time even after being with her for… several years?”

How could he, if it also meant having to explain that he was eternally tied to his best friend; the girl he’d always assured her that she shouldn’t be worried about?

Kiba gives a hard, obvious swallow, unable to stop his jaw from clenching a little. “Yeah.”

You pick at your nails, pretending there’s something underneath them in order to appear busy. “Do you miss her?”

“I, um… I think I used to, but I definitely don’t anymore.” He sees the dumbfounded look you give him now and scrubs a tired hand over his face. “I know it sounds awful when I put it like that, trust me, I know, but the bond between me and you doesn’t let me feel things like… that anymore. For other people, I mean. It’s just… It’s a bitch to explain.”

He had loved Tamaki. Perhaps he still does; in a way that would never be enough for her and that is considerably less than what she actually deserves, but after finally connecting with you, his mate, the mere thought of ever being intimate with someone else again repulses him greatly. 

He’d tried to make it work. To give her what she’d desired, deserved. Every embrace, kiss, conversation, trip, and so much more. However, you’d always been right there, sitting in the back of his mind during it all. And now that he’d gotten the chance to place his mouth on yours, and had tasted you, had been inside you, he feels so fucking stupid for even attempting to do such a thing in the first place.

It’s either you or nobody.

“So, anyway… Cosplay, huh?” you ask randomly, clearly trying to brush the heavy topic away despite being the one who initiated it. 

He blinks, slowly. “What about it?”

“You really think it’s cool?”

“Yes,” he snips all of a sudden. The change of tone makes you even more puzzled than you already are, especially when he adds, “Is it that hard to believe or somethin’?”

“Well… yeah,” you mumble while scratching your cheek. It’s a challenge to contain the surprise that tries to show on your face now; your eyebrows are insisting on rising up nearly to your hairline. “I mean, the Kiba I know would’ve straight up bullied a person like that.”

He blanches at your statement. “That was one time! I was just being honest with the poor suckers when I told them that carrying Yu-Gi-Oh! cards to school is the reason why they’re all still virgins… In fact, I was probably doing them a favour!”

“No,” you object. “You were being mean.”

“Then it’s a good thing that we’re not in high school anymore, I guess.” He flicks the remote onto a nearby pillow and crosses his arms behind his head before he says, “And just so you know, I’m not just some mean asshole that you constantly keep referring to me as. People can change. Myself included.”

“I didn’t–... I didn’t mean it like that,” you reply a bit too fast, feeling every blink your eyelids make. His gaze is unmoving from your face and it’s causing you to become hyper-aware of your body. “I know there’s more to you than just acting like a prick, come on. I wouldn’t be friends with you otherwise.”

He sighs in answer, his face tight. You do the same.

Awkwardness settles in.

“Uh,” you utter at some point, finally daring to look up at him again. “Want to tell me the reason why you like it, though?”

“Like what?” he asks dumbly.

“Cosplay.”

“Oh.” A brief second passes before he, at long last, chuckles. You’re relieved to see his shoulders sag a bit with it. “Well, if I’ve gotta pick one thing, I guess it’s ‘cause most of the chicks are dressed in those hot, skintight bodysuits?”

“Seriously?” A pang of jealousy resonates within you, but you do your best to repress it. It’s too early to be feeling all that. “That’s the best thing you can come up with? Girls in tight bodysuits?”

“No, I’m just messin’ with ya, hah…” He grins, but swallows thickly again and runs his fingers over the back of his head before he continues, “While those are nice, don’t get me wrong, I guess I really like it because it’s like Halloween, in a way?”

“Halloween?” you repeat, even more confused.

“Yeah.” He gives you a nod that could almost come across as sheepish. “Someone can dress up as something that’s supposed to be big and scary, and when people see it, they aren’t… Well, they aren’t afraid of it, necessarily? Instead they just think it’s cool and fun, you know?”

Finally, Kiba tears his gaze from your face, allowing it to settle onto his lap instead. Silence stretches between you once more as you continue to stare at him. Your head tilts to the side just as his drops lower, and you make the decision to reach out so that you can gently pat his knee in understanding.

Your entire body begins to glow from within when his hand rests atop your own. He traces your knuckles and gives them a gentle squeeze. The sensation is truly something you haven’t had the chance to experience before with anyone other than your best friend. There’s just so much nostalgia hiding in the small portrayal of affection.

The tone of your voice slips into something soft because of it, so soft that it comes across as barely above a whisper even to his sensitive wolf hearing when you ask, “I take it that that someone is you, in your… other form?” 

“What? No, I, uh… It’s not me.” He lets go of your hand to awkwardly clear his throat, trying to ignore the sudden ache that appears in it before he sits cross-legged and rests his elbows on his knees. 

By the time he’s ready to speak again, he’s already fiddling with his fingers. “Besides, even if I actually wanted to go, I still couldn’t. I’m far too big for that. Far too… scary-lookin’.”

He wants to though, you can see it bright as day. Can see that he’s tired of hiding a whole other half of himself — a half that he’ll unfortunately have to keep hidden for as long as he lives. Tired of making excuses and being overly cautious when he’s the exact opposite of it, and missing out on important events whenever they’re set on days following up to a full moon. Tired of receiving weird, uncomfortable glances whenever instinct takes over and his true nature pushes forward a bit too far past the barriers, when all he yearns for is to be liked.

Just… fed up with it all.

However, you also know that Kiba hates being perceived as vulnerable. So rather than moping with him and indulging his sadness and thus worsening it, you instead use the chance to snort and playfully nudge him in the shoulder. 

“Oh, yeah?” you say, making sure the lilt in your voice is overly noticeable. “Is that so?”

The nudge you give him makes him look up, as does the sudden change in your tone. At the sight of your friendly smile and the challenge simmering in your eyes, his expression eventually lightens to something a bit less stormy.

You’ll do just about anything to drag your best friend out of the bubble of melancholy that he’s surrounded himself with. 

And the best thing about it? You know that he would’ve done the same for you.

“Yeah,” he says, playing along now, albeit reluctantly. He’s still not quite where you want him exactly, but you’re getting there.

“Well, how big and scary are we talking, big boy?” you continue to inquire, wiggling your eyebrows. 

“I–” He snickers at your flirtatious prodding, rolling his eyes right afterwards. “Too big for anyone to handle,” he says, “and that includes you.”

“I don’t believe that.”

Can he truly get that big? You’ve never had the chance to see him turn full wolf yet, so his statement causes your stomach to fill with warmth. Heat travels downwards, over your thighs and between your legs, and you swear that you can hear him inhale a breath that’s slightly deeper than usual when it happens. 

The unannounced nerves are making you want to start pacing around the room, but you force your body to keep still.

“Well, you not believing me ain’t my problem, now is it?” he says, his smile suddenly wistful now. The light that comes from the TV makes his unnaturally big canines glimmer with moisture. It’s hard to not look at his mouth because of it. 

Words slightly wobbly, you manage to say, “I’m your mate, though.”

Mate. He perks up at the word, just like he always does, but his voice doesn’t make him sound particularly fazed as he utters, “And?”

“And that makes me your problem,” you explain, finally daring to move so that you can scratch your cheek again. It’s nothing more but an attempt at self-soothing. “Doesn’t it?”

You’re unsure why you’re pushing on this specific topic — especially after being the one who had once again suggested taking things slow in the first place — however, to be fair, you’ve been curious about it for a long while, even before you’d tangled yourself into this whole ‘bonded for life’ mess.

But now that the link has been revealed, the desire to lay your eyes on the unthinkable has become as potent as ever.

There is just something so undeniably appealing about the idea of seeing him in his werewolf form. Something thrilling in discovering the unknown; touching it with your hands and grazing it with the tips of your fingers. Something reassuring in accepting all of him, especially after he’d just partially trusted you with his insecurities revolving around this specific topic.

So yes, it’s either that, or it’s the newly discovered monsterfucker that’s been hiding inside you this whole time that’s talking and coaxing him into showing himself now. Or perhaps it’s both. Who knows?

You try to feign indifference to the best of your capability as you wait for his answer, even if every single inch of you is buzzing with relentless expectation. 

With bated breath that could very well match your own to perfection, Kiba inches ever so slightly closer, seemingly completely unintentionally. His gaze is laser-focused as he studies every feature that your face provides. The curve of your jaw, the shape of your lips, the colour of your eyes — he burns it all into memory before he at long last settles on the upper corner of your left cheek.

His burning stare causes your heart to pound faster than it normally would, and you know that he can hear it despite the fact that his ears are nowhere near your chest. Still, you insist on not moving a muscle. Insist on being brave.

“I’m too big for ya,” he says finally, gesturing over himself with his hand. “This is all you’re gonna get after you’re done playing the ‘takin’ it slow’ game with me.”

You bristle, clearly displeased with his answer. “But I’m–”

“It doesn’t work like that,” he interrupts, shaking his head. “Believe me, I wish it would, but it still doesn’t change the fact that you’re only human.”

“Humans can adapt! And being one, as you’ve so kindly pointed out, I’m pretty sure I can take it,” you object, heart still going thump, thump, thump! Something tells you that this isn’t just about cheering him up anymore. “Actually, I know I can.”

If he’s fucked you like a feral animal without transforming, how off the rails can he get if he doesn’t have anything holding him back anymore? 

You tense up when he gives you a harsh, almost derisive kind of laugh. Sit straighter when he says, “I’d tear you to shreds.”

“No, you wouldn’t.”

“The point is that I could.” The corners of his mouth twitch downwards at the horrible thought. “And that’s not something I’m willing to risk.”

You roll your eyes. “Since when are you one to say no to taking risks?”

“Since last week,” he replies. “Give or take.”

“You mean…?” A quick wave of heat washes over your face again. You went camping last week and he’d slipped into rut whilst sharing a tent with you; accidentally confessing everything that’s tied him to you ever since he’d first laid eyes on you all those years ago. 

He nods. “You’d be surprised how much being with a mate can change a wolf… I’m boring as fuck now.”

“But I don’t want you to change! I love you just the way you are,” you find yourself saying. The reason must be that last cocktail you persuaded yourself into ordering and eventually drinking. It’s untied your tongue like it’s nothing but a measly shoelace.

Nevertheless… 

Love.

Kiba’s breath hitches at the word, deeply-rooted emotions swelling within his broad chest, however he — very painfully — chooses not to ask to hear it again as soon as the subtle whiff of anxiety wafts over to his nose.

You’re embarrassed because of what you’ve just said. It makes his chest squeeze to the brink of pain.

“I mean–” you start, fumbling with your words. “I–”

“It’s okay,” he says, patting your knee as casually as he’s able despite the fact that the smile he gives you now seems just a smidge too tight. “I know what you meant. Now stop making it awkward or I’m gonna fucking lose it.”

Hyper-sensitive — his touch lights your skin on fire. His palm barely moves from its initial spot, but you can feel every callus to adorn his fingers, every minuscule stroke, as well as the reassuring squeeze that makes you want to straight up jump his bones.

And fuck, it’s nice. So nice, in fact, that it persuades you to stop him when he goes to pull his hand off your leg.

“Wait… don’t.”

“Mm?”

“You can touch me.” The words roll off your tongue before you can reel them back in again, but you still decide to put on your bravest front even if your upper lip is a second away from quivering.

Short-lived surprise crosses Kiba’s face. You watch with nervous eyes as his hand falters before it eventually settles on its original spot again. He grasps it more firmly this time. Squeezes with intent instead of reassurance.

There’s a beat of unsure stillness in the air before he brings himself to ask, “Like that?”

You give him a nod, feeling a little more confident while also paying mind not to be so tense. There are so many things you have to keep track of; god, why can’t you just relax and be more like him? Everything has to be so darn complicated whenever it comes to you! 

“Bunny,” he says, his tone still slightly unsure. “I thought I told you to stop making it awkward.”

Phantom lightning strikes your insides, melting them into liquid. “I’m not making it awkward.”

“‘Course you are. You’re completely stiff.” His grip tightens and it makes your eyes grow wide and your body turn even tenser in response. 

His own eyes aren’t their usual chocolate brown shade when he lifts his gaze to look at you again, but they sure are dark as sin. 

“See?” is all he says, a little out of breath. 

“I’m not,” you insist, the sentence completely useless. Your throat feels terribly dry all of a sudden. It makes your tongue stick to the roof of your mouth. “You’re just… imagining things.”

He quirks one brow. Repeats your challenge from earlier with the same tone, “Oh, yeah?” 

You bite your lip — a lame attempt to refocus. “Yeah.”

But before you know it, he uses one hand to shove you until you’re laying flat on your back, sinking deeper into the couch cushions, causing you to let out a little noise of startlement. 

His head pops into your field of vision as he hovers over you now. Aside from the light that comes from the TV, the room is shrouded in darkness. It makes only half of his face visible, however you can still see the glimmer of his teeth when he smiles down at you.

“You’re still sure about me imagining things?” he asks, clasping his fingers around the fat of your thigh. “‘Cause this is looking pretty real to me.”

“Y-yes,” you reply, challenging him further. “I’m sure.”

His grin turns wolfish as he drags his gaze over your somewhat disheveled form. Across both of your collarbones, now exposed due to the thin spaghetti straps of your dress slipping off your shoulders slightly, as well as the rising hem that’s slowly showing off more and more of your legs.

He’s looking at you like he’s planning to eat you. But rather than digging in, all he does is sneer as he says, “Brave words for someone who oddly resembles a plank right now.”

Well… that certainly wasn’t what you were expecting.

“Fuck you,” you drawl in answer, a mere hint of disappointment crossing your features — disappointment you’ll never admit to feeling. Urging your body to relax once more just so that you can prove him wrong, you instead try to focus on calming down your breathing.

However, it’s hard to do so when your best friend is literally on top of you, watching you with hungry eyes and the most complacent of smiles. Hard to do so when his fingers are now toying with the string that ties the front of your dress together and holds your tits in place. Hard to do so when—

A small gasp escapes your lips when he jabs you in the side all of a sudden.

The bridge of your nose scrunches in annoyance. When you try to stop him from repeating the action, he just takes you by the wrist and uses the chance to pin it above your head. “Don’t do that.”

“Or what?” He huffs a laugh at your weak attempt to fight back. Pokes you in the side again, making you whine. “What are you gonna do ‘bout it, hmm?” 

You don’t say anything as you squirm underneath him, trying to break free from his grip, but your efforts are to no avail. He’s got you locked in tight; has even made sure to pin your other hand the same way he did the first one when you tried to use it to push him in the chest.

“C’mon, bunny,” he taunts, his smile growing, growing, growing. Gosh, he really is such a wolf, isn’t he? “Is that really the best you can do?”

“No, it’s just not fair,” you say, trying to tame your pulse. The position you’ve wound up in is making your mind wander to all sorts of things. Dirty things.

“What’s not fair?” he asks, rubbing his thumb across your wrist.

“The fact that you’re so much stronger than me and expect me to throw you off like it’s nothing,” you mumble, huffing as you look up at the spot where he’s pressing down on your wrists. “I mean, how am I supposed to do anything, when you can hold me down with just one hand?”

The way his pupils widen with obvious excitement at your statement should concern you, but you know better than to think that he’d ever actually hurt you. It’s just the predator in him playing. A side he cannot stop from slipping into the spotlight every so often. A side he feels safe enough to share with you.

He likes being described as big and overpowering. Call it a guilty pleasure.

“Try using your legs,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper, laced with want. You can still distinguish the smile in it though. “I heard bunnies are supposed to have quite a kick to ‘em.”

“I’m not an actual bunny, shut up,” you fuss, but do exactly as he says. You kick your legs…

…and end up wrapping them around his waist instead.

Flustered warmth sears your face, neck and chest all over again as your ankles lock on the small of his back seemingly by their own accord. The skirt of your dress hikes up with the movement, exposing more of your thighs; offering him a glimpse of your cutesy underwear that you didn’t think twice about wearing because you weren’t planning on starting anything with him tonight.

And yet here you are.

The rise in temperature that you’re feeling all over blazes into something more profound now. Heat gathers in your stomach. Your legs. Between them, too. Anticipation tightens your skin, bringing the blood that runs underneath it to an angry simmer.

Kiba’s smile slowly fades when he senses the particular tension that now riddles the air around you. You stare at each other even if it’s hard for you and easy for him. For fuck’s sake, it feels like he’s burning holes into your fucking forehead when he looks at you like that.

“What is it?” you ask, nerves working overtime. “Do I have something stuck in my teeth?”

“You smell so fucking good when you’re turned on, did you know that?” he rasps in answer, completely ignoring your question and pitiful attempt at diffusing the situation. His nose is already leading him to that very tender spot hiding in the crook of your neck.

You flinch when he nudges your jawline, silently asking you for permission to give him more space. Not trusting the lump of nervosity that’s taken up residency inside your throat to not betray you all of a sudden, you allow it wordlessly and by angling your head slightly to the right.

“Your scent is so… I can smell how wet your cunt is even from here, god,” he trails off without an ounce of shame, every word lower and lower in tone. He takes another deep breath. Savours it with a soft groan. “You’re killin’ me, sweetheart.”

Embarrassment flashes through you like lightning does a stormy sky. The realization that he can immediately pick up on the scent of your arousal — as well as the aftermath that the ability brings — is overwhelming. 

It makes your heart thrum even faster than it did before. Consequently, your thoughts are now nothing more but a jumbled mess as you desperately attempt to tame your pulse back into a rhythm that’s normal instead of completely erratic.

But it’s not just you who’s having a hard time. The muscles in Kiba’s arms have gone completely stiff and his inhales are deep and audible instead of calm. He only pauses them to press cautious little kisses over your neck, most of which he eventually starts mixing with even smaller nips with the help of his teeth.

You’re pouring with sweat because of it. His apartment is warm, too warm even if it didn’t feel like that before, and his mouth is hot just like his tongue is as it repeatedly presses against your sweet spot. The action even causes goosebumps to appear all over your arms and legs. Great.

“Relax,” he mumbles, the tip of his nose practically smushed against your neck. “We’ve done this before.”

“What makes you think that we’ll do it again?” you hiss, fighting tooth and nail to appear authoritative. It doesn’t come off as strongly as you want it to, though.

“Call it a hunch,” he says, unable to resist a smirk. “Or whatever.”

Your lips remain a firm line. Unimpressed. “You’re so full of yourself.”

“Sure am,” he trails off with a lazy grin as his fingers brush the side of your neck. He looks at you. And winks. “You can be too, if you wanna. Full of me, I mean.”

“N-no?! The hell,” you splutter out, squirming even more. Sly motherfucker, damn him. “I thought I told you-”

“Relax! C’mon,” he repeats, huffing another laugh. “You know damn well that I’m just fucking with you, sorry, messing… No need to lecture me all the time.”

You roll your eyes. “You say that as if you can actually be lectured in the first place.”

He quirks an eyebrow. “Did it ever cross that naggy mind of yours that I don’t listen to you because I don’t want to, and not because I can’t?”

“Oh yeah, many times,” you reply, glaring at him. “Drives my naggy mind crazy.”

He muses like a satisfied cat at your statement. “You drive me crazy.”

“Stop hitting on me!” Your entire face scrunches up in annoyance. “Sweet talking isn’t gonna get you laid.”

“Then what will?” He drags his tongue along your pulse point. Blows air on the trail of saliva so that he can watch you writhe at the cold sensation to overcome you, then. “You want me to chase you around a lil’ bit first? Play a little game of prey versus predator with ya to get you to sit on my dick tonight?”

A small groan of agitation is the best you can do when it comes to answering his taunting.

“Or do you want me to really work for it, hmm, bunny?” His grip tightens around your wrists. As if to serve as a reminder. “Even though, judging by how you’re lookin’ right now, I could just take it all for myself either way?”

Your breath hitches in the back of your throat. “You wouldn’t.”

His upper lip curls, revealing those sharp canine teeth again. “Yeah, you’re right. I wouldn’t.” 

But he could.

Still, your breaths continue to intermingle. Doubt gets overridden by lust. Hands explore; one pair of them courageous as it can be, the other perfectly timid in contrast. The former even uses that courage to hike the hem of your dress up to your waist, completely exposing your lower half amidst all the grinding and writhing that’s slowly, but surely, coming into fruition. 

Kiba looks like he’s already won as he leers between your legs with that obnoxiously knowing glint in his eye and the equally as infuriating half-smile. 

He seems to be aware that you’re trying your absolute hardest not to react to the obvious bulge that’s in his sweatpants now. That you’re trying to ignore the rushing thrill that surges through you whenever he presses it against your traitor of a cunt — which still hides under the plain cotton panties you apparently swore you wouldn’t let him see tonight.

So he pushes it against you again. And again. Applying pressure, rubbing, testing out the playing field, waiting for you to tell him to stop. 

You don’t though. No, all you do is bite your lip in order to suppress the moan that’s impatiently waiting behind your clenched teeth and wiggle your hips whenever the hot contact strikes.

“Fuck, you’re so cute.” He can’t hide how entertained he is as he mumbles, “You want my cock? ‘Cause I’ll more than gladly give it to ya.”

A low hiss slips past your lips when his hard-on manages to bump your clit over the layers of clothes. It makes your brows furrow and your legs squeeze around his waist even tighter. 

“I didn’t–” You pause to close your eyes and inhale a rather wobbly breath. By the time you open them again, he’s already staring right back. “I didn’t say that.”

“You don’t have to,” he says, his own eyes flashing with what you think could be pride. “I can already tell from how fuckin’ soaked you are... Look.”

He reaches down between you then, running a single knuckle down your clothed slit. Your hips buck in answer to the touch almost immediately; the damp patch that’s formed on your underwear now turning more noticeable, shaping the outline of your pussy even further.

It makes him yearn to tug your panties to the side so that he can feel the slick coating his fingers before he can push them into your tight little hole, but he knows you’ll cause a fuss and close up on him if he moves even a smidge too quickly for your liking.

Still, the sight nearly makes him drool. His cock twitches. Starts to physically ache with need. It’s not as bad as it was during his rut last week, but fuck… this entire stage of foreplay and trying to lure you into pound town could be a close second, he can’t lie.

“Do you always get this wet whenever someone touches you,” he finds himself asking, “or is all of this just f’me?”

He hopes it’s the latter. Wants it so bad. The mere thought of someone else seeing you like this, touching you, spreading their scent all over you, claiming you, loving you… He’d let you go if you wanted to be with someone other than him, he’s told you so before, but that doesn’t mean that he’d be particularly happy about it.

Actually, he’d be quite miserable. Excruciatingly so.

You give him a pointed glare, face stern. He’s received the same look from you so many times over the years that he’s grown to love it, but you don’t fail to notice how his smile tightens with each passing moment that he waits for you to answer his question.

“Well?” he pushes, unable to resist. His eyes are getting more yellow by the second and his teeth are getting bigger. It makes his voice sound gruff as he says, “Who’s it for, bunny, mm?”

“I’m not telling you,” you say quietly, trying to make sense of all the emotions that are swelling up inside your chest now.

It’s a challenge to do so when they’ve been continuously swept under the rug for years on end and have only just recently been brought back into the open, though. When you’re unsure where your friendship stands. When you don’t even know if the love that your best friend feels for you is actually genuine, or if it’s just a thing that’s been forced forward solely because of the mating bond that eternally connects him to you.

You can’t help but wonder: would he still love you the same way he loves you now even if you weren’t his mate? If he were nothing more but a simple human, unable to connect with someone on such a deep biological level. Would he still fall for you — his best friend?

Or would he still be with his now ex-girlfriend, surely renting an apartment with her and exchanging doting glances and smiles during breakfast every morning, mind completely free from you the second you’d leave for college after every summer?

Would he even be your friend?

What if you’re just a burden to him?

“Hey.”

The sudden pinch that you receive to your left cheek tugs you out of your inner turmoil that has come to plague you all of a sudden.

Kiba’s eyebrows are cinched tight when you blink up at him. A small wrinkle of worry etches into his forehead and continues to deepen with the heavy silence to surround you. Even his jaw seems to be set firmly in place. 

Instead of hot and bothered, he just looks plain worried now despite the gleam of sweat on his brow and the almost sex hair.

“Mm?” is all you decide to let out whilst rubbing your wrists that he’s since let go of.

“You okay?” he asks, choosing to stroke your cheek instead of pinching it this time around. The pads of his fingers are rough, but his touch is surprisingly gentle. “You’ve completely zoned out on me just now.”

“I’m fine,” you say, despite that your chest remains feeling unbearably tight. The urge to touch it as a means to console yourself is hard to suppress, however you’re well aware that it’d just cause him to worry even further. “Sorry.”

“You sure? ‘Cause you smell kind of sad all of a sudden,” he mumbles, wolf eyes still zeroing in on you. He’s following every minuscule movement you make and it’s unnerving. “And I don’t know about you, but that definitely ain’t a thing a dude would want his girl to feel when he’s planning on sinking balls deep into her.”

“Sad?” you repeat, ignoring the lewd comment even if it makes you feel tingly between your legs. His cock, albeit not as hard anymore, is still persistently pressing against your pussy.

“Yeah,” he says. “Kind of like rain.”

This fascinates you. Your expression lightens as a result. “You mean like petrichor?”

He gives you somewhat of a dumb look, biting the inside of his cheek. “What?”

“Never mind, it’s just something dorky we learned in school,” you say, chuckling faintly at the confused puzzlement that now sits on his face. “Forget I said anything.”

He doesn’t respond, so you sigh, running your palm over the side of your neck he’d just been kissing a moment prior. The skin there is still warm. Tender. It makes you shiver when your fingers graze it.

“C’mon, what’s wrong?” he mutters, still eyeing you just as intensely as before. “I can tell whenever something’s bothering you… Spit it out.”

“Nothing is bothering me, okay? Gosh,” you try to reassure him, but still turn your head to the side to stare at the television. 

The movie he’d put on earlier is already halfway through and you doubt he has the option to rewind it. Oh, well.

Watching you dismiss the entire thing, Kiba looks like he’s about to fight you on it, surely getting ready to accuse you of being a liar like he’s had a habit of playfully doing in the past. However, just when his mouth pops open to say the words, you prevent him from doing so by pressing both of your palms on his front and gathering up his T-shirt between your fingers.

He stills only for a second before he starts to push out his chest at your touch, puffing up with male-like bravado as he goes. His shoulders square up. His eyes flash with that sublime yellow colour. And you might be imagining the whole thing at this point, but you swear that even his scent grows stronger in intensity. 

The entire room is engulfed by that signature amber scent now. You peer up at him once more, mind slightly hazy and astounded.

But besides the astonishment, you also feel… soothed. Kind of.

Burden or no burden, he’s down bad for you all the same, isn’t he? 

“What is it now?” he grumbles in answer to the wide look in your eyes. “You’re starin’ at me all weird-like again.”

You swallow the saliva that’s gathered in your mouth for what must be the millionth time tonight. It’s runny and thin, laced with adrenaline. “Are you courting me right now?”

“Huh?” His face twists into a look of pure confusion for a second time in a row.

“You’re pushing your chest out like a bird during one of those mating dances that you see on TV,” you explain, tugging on his T-shirt as if it’ll help you prove your point. “Are you trying to impress me or something?”

“Tsch… What? No... It’s just, ah… The fuck?” He blinks, shaking his head as if he’s trying to get his thoughts in order. His back hunches slightly with the action. You’ve caught him completely off guard.

You smile. “What is it, then?”

“It’s just my body reacting to a mate’s touch, damn… I told you about it in the woods last week, didn’t I? What’s with all the questions all of a sudden?” He clicks his tongue against his teeth once more, apparently unaffected by what you have to say, but also immediately draws back; causing distance until he’s lying between you and the backrest of the couch instead of on top of you. 

You’re not aware of it, but he’s beginning to blush like a sucker after he realizes how that treacherously primal part of his brain had made him react just now — fully without his knowledge.

Trying to appear bigger and wooing you with his scent? What are you, animals? Besides, you aren’t even capable of distinguishing pheromones like he can, for fuck’s sake! What’s he doing all of this weird shit for?!

This time, heat continues to climb up Kiba’s neck instead of yours, and overtakes his entire face with such speed that it makes his cheeks itchy. Even the tips of his ears have turned hot to the touch. He feels like he’s on the verge of melting into a puddle of despair any second now.

Gosh, you must think he’s such a loser.

He doesn’t say anything else as he wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you closer until your back is pressed against his chest, feeling slightly relieved to not hear any protests from your side. 

But to some extent, he’s not all that surprised. While you might be taking this entire thing slow, spooning is nothing new. You’ve done it even whilst you were both desperately trying to keep your friendship as something purely platonic instead of whatever it is now. So when you compare it to all the grinding that you did just now, this is angel city.

His voice is barely above a sheepish murmur as he says, “Whatever… Let’s just watch the movie, yeah?”

You don’t mention that the film is nearing its end and that you’ve already seen it in theaters a couple months ago with your friends from college. Nor the fact that you found his little portrayal of desire — as well as the feeling of embarrassment that followed it afterwards — outright adorable and that it helped ease your worries a little bit.

No, all you do is snuggle up closer to him and nod your head yes.

———

Summer passes by quickly when you’re reunited with your best friend again.

If you had to describe the last couple of months with one word, it’d be nostalgic. During the days when he’s off work and you’re not busy with your family, Kiba makes sure to take you on a trip down memory lane one way or another. 

On some evenings, you drop by the small convenience store that you used to constantly occupy as kids, so that you can buy popsicles and then sit on a bench in the nearby park; taking turns licking the different flavours and talking late into the night, or at least until the artificial colouring has been wiped away from your tongues. 

On particularly hot days, you drive to the lake where you’ve both been taught how to swim by your parents in order to cool off, and compete to see who's able to hold their breath the longest. He ends up being the winner almost every time, of course, and never misses the chance to rub it in your face.

You even still do shitty movie marathons, however this time they’re occasionally accompanied by Kiba’s roommate, Kankuro, who you’ve since learned is a pretty cool guy, despite his slightly odd obsession with purple face paint. He’s also the one who’d helped you bake Kiba’s birthday cake back in July.

All in all, things concerning your best friend have remained quite the same as they’ve always been. Well, most of them did.

There may have been a couple of changes here and there ever since you’ve learned you were his mate. 

Some are pretty tame. For example, you can’t brush over the look of pure longing that appears in his eyes as he watches you lick a rogue droplet of sugar whenever you’re sucking on the popsicle he’d just handed you. Or the way his touch lingers on your shoulders and traces down your spine and hips when you ask him to help you apply sunscreen on your back after your swim.

But then there are some of the more twisted kind. Sometimes, whenever Kankuro can’t make it to your movie marathons, you also can’t ignore the way your best friend sighs and grunts and whispers the nastiest of profanities into the side of your neck as you sit on his lap and rub your clothed pussy against the hard-on in his pants.

It’s always done the same way. On his couch, in the dark, and never talked about afterwards since it tends to make you both agitated with even more lust. Your skirt is bunched up in his too-big hands — you’re always making sure they don’t go any farther than that because they try, oh boy, do they try — and there are zero kisses exchanged between you in order to keep things moving slow but still giving him the fix he needs so that he doesn’t slip into another unannounced rut, as he likes to call it.

So far, your compromise shows promise. Over the span of the last couple of weeks, there had only been one single occasion of actual skin on skin contact; when he’d somehow managed to distract you for long enough to pull your panties to the side and pull out his cock from the confines of his clothes without you being quick enough to stop him. 

However, much to his — and secretly your own — misfortune, you’d been mewling his name and rubbing your pussy against him for a long while back then, consequently overstimulating him to great, almost unfair lengths in the process. The second his cockhead had gotten the chance to bump against your soaked entrance, he was not bound to last. 

So he’d spilled everything he had with a sharp hiss and a frustrated “fuuuck” and just like that, you were safe from being pounded into oblivion once again — if you exclude the sticky, cloudy white mess splattering between your thighs, that is.

And that was that.

But now, with summer coming to a swift end and a new school year waiting right around the corner, the time has come for you to say goodbye to your best friend once again.

Kiba accompanies you to the airport and pulls you into a bone-crushing hug when it’s time for you to board your flight, his features unusually impassive during the entirety of it. He leans down to kiss your cheek, surely receiving curious glances from your parents with the act, and mumbles something about texting him when you land so that he knows you’re safe.

You do as he asks of you when you arrive to campus that day, even going as far as to send him a picture of your little student apartment that you share with two other roommates, jokingly calling it a dump. He reads your text message almost instantly, but his reply is curt. When you call him to say good night after you’ve finished unpacking your stuff and settling in, you barely recognize the sound of his voice.

“G’night,” he mutters. “Try not to be a dumbass on your first day.”

The jab is meant to be playful, but instead it comes across as void of any kind of emotion whatsoever. Flat and unlively. You can tell even if he desperately tries to cover it up with more teasing remarks and lame jokes. 

It gets better over time, though. You’re well aware that he’s handling the distance way worse than any other regular human would, especially since he’s a semi-mated wolf now, so you try to keep him in the loop as often as you can. He, on the other hand, tries to give you space and keeps his more possessive side on a tight leash. His main priority is to make your friendship — or should you say situationship — work.

Speaking of his more possessive side, you’ve both made precautions to lessen the chance of the beast within him from going haywire. He makes sure to go completely off the grid during a full moon, and every so often, you mail him a T-shirt or two so that he still has a way of inhaling your scent and thus satisfying the urge to come seek you out. After the scent fades out, he sends your clothes back washed, but not ironed; typical for a man like him, before the cycle repeats itself again.

He’d once, jokingly, not so jokingly, texted you about sending him a pair of your panties instead, however all he got in response to that was an angry wall of text and a series of pissed off-looking emojis. He’d abandoned the idea soon after.

You do indulge him with phone sex from time to time, though. And while you do keep telling yourself that it’s done solely to keep him in-check, deep down, you know that that simply isn’t the case. 

Because when the hour is late, Kiba likes to remind you just how badly he misses you in that warm, rich, confident voice that makes your back want to straight up arch from the bed. Likes to talk about all the things that he wants to do to you with zero hesitance — hesitance you wish you, yourself didn’t have — while he strokes his cock; all until you find yourself reaching into the drawer of your nightstand so that you can hurriedly press your trusty pink vibrator to your clit. 

But it’s not just you who finds him hot — your roommates do, too. They’ve peered over your shoulder once or twice while you were FaceTiming him in the kitchen, fully clothed, of course, and have since been asking for regular updates on your so-called ‘boyfriend’, wondering when they’ll get to meet the guy who’s actually managed to swipe the rug from underneath your feet, in person.

And the answer is: on Halloween. They’ll meet him on Halloween.

———

Oddly enough, Kiba seems to fit right into the college party scene, despite never pursuing a degree of his own.

After successfully planning out his visit together, you realize that the frat house that you’ve dragged him to in order to celebrate this year’s Halloween in, is packed with people; some of them in costumes, while the rest have decided to go for a more casual approach. 

Dressed in jeans, the same faded baseball cap that you saw him wearing back when you’d bumped into him in the grocery store at the beginning of summer, and a simple T-shirt and flannel combo, your best friend doesn’t particularly stand out amongst the latter. 

He’d landed this morning, grinning tiredly and with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. You nearly started bursting at the seams with joy the second you caught sight of him halfway across the airport. He wasn’t much better.

Hugging out all your emotions first, you then spent the entire day catching up, as well as healing the phantom wounds that the distance had caused. It was nice. So nice, in fact, that you’d almost forgotten how easy and complicated it was at the same time with him.

And now here you are. Together again.

Eyes glimmering with fondness, you watch as he leisurely chats with your friends who he’d already gotten to meet back at the apartment. As is expected for an extrovert like Kiba, he has no problem keeping up with the conversation. 

His body language is relaxed even when he has to lie about wearing yellow contacts; swiftly feigning that it’s because he wants to keep the spirit of Halloween alive and because he, of course, couldn’t possibly have brought a full costume with him to the airport. 

Meanwhile, you’re well aware that his reasoning couldn’t be farther from the truth. His eyes had shifted from their regular brown shade the second he’d caught you emerging from the bathroom, dressed in a pair of tight jeans and with a bunny ears headband sitting atop your head — a rather mediocre choice of a costume, but one that you knew he’d dig nonetheless.

“What, no heels?”

“Have you seen the floor of a frat house before?”

“No.”

“Well, you’re going to now, and then you’re going to understand why I chose normal girl shoes.”

While riddled with mischief at your answer, his eyes haven’t gone back to normal since.

And neither has he. No, instead he had spent a good twenty minutes scenting you in the privacy of your little bedroom; embracing you and running his rough hands up and down your arms and sides, touching your neck and face all over until you were almost late to the party and glittery highlighter coated every last one of his fingers.

“You do realize that normal people don’t have a heightened sense of smell like you do, right?” you’d grumbled by the fourth repetitive stroke, making a face when he even went as far as to lean in and start rubbing his cheek against your own. “Nobody is going to be like, ‘Woah, watch out! This one smells like werewolf property!’ if I get kidnapped or something.”

The laughter-like sound he’d let out had come across as terribly jeering. “You say that like anyone would even have a chance of forcibly taking you away from me.” 

With a soft incline of your head, you had asked, “Wouldn’t they?”

“‘Course not, you silly bunny.” He’d looked you right in the eyes then, his pupils briefly thinning into feline-like slits, allowing the apex predator within to shine on through. “I’d rip out their throats with my teeth before they’d even get a chance to blink. Easy as pie.” 

His gaze had been shiver-inducing. The words even more so. “But what if there would be like… ten of them?”

“I can take on ten people.”

“You can barely handle me whenever I’m in a lousy mood.”

“Well, it’s a good thing that you don’t count, then.” The grin he’d given you in return had been sharp. Too sharp, despite the cutesy dimple digging into his cheek. Especially as he held your face between his palms and purred, “Also, you’re not my property, you’re my mate. It’s supposed to make us equals, so please try to act like one for my sake, yeah?”

And they said romance was dead.

“Yeah.” Attempting to not pay attention to the butterflies that were wildly fluttering in your stomach again, all you managed was, “Equals who are going to be late.”

“Shit.” His eyes got wide as saucers at that. He’d given one last stroke, one last squeeze, and had pressed a hasty kiss onto your forehead before saying, “Okay, I think I’m done... Ready when you are.”

You’re unsure if it’s placebo, but you think his scent still clings to you even two hours later, when the party is in full swing and you’re chatting away with one of your guy friends in the kitchen.

Besides said friend, there are only two other people in the room — none of which you can recognize, from the way they’re too busy eating face only a few meters away from you. Kiba, reluctant to leave your side despite your many reassurances, had somehow gotten dragged into a round of beer pong by a group of rowdy jocks.

Every so often, you can hear cheering coming from one of the rooms nearby. You don’t doubt that he’s acquired quite a crowd for himself already. His dream and your worst nightmare.

“So, what’s the deal with you and the dunce?”

Blinking at the sudden question that whisks away your brain fog, you look up from your plastic cup of cranberry juice that others have been using to mix their cheap vodka with. Not feeling like taking the risk of being hungover because of particularly shitty booze the next morning, you’d decided to stay sober tonight, hence the juice.

“Sorry, what?” you ask. “I wasn’t listening.”

Your friend, Shikamaru Nara is his name, looks at you with signature exasperation at having to repeat himself again. 

“I was asking about your… friend,” he mutters after a brief pause, using the second chance of you not hearing the initial jab. 

“Oh, you mean Kiba?” you say, bringing the cup up to your lips. “Yeah, what about him?”

“Are you hooking up with him?”

The sip of cranberry juice you’d just taken lodges itself into the back of your throat at the question. It hurts like a bitch as you fight to swallow it down, unable to resist squeezing your eyes shut at the sensation, however you manage to avoid sputtering and coughing yourself into embarrassment by the end of it.

Clearing your throat as discreetly as you can, your voice sounds slightly hoarse when you ask, “Why do you ask that?”

Shikamaru, without missing a beat, says, “I dunno, he just looks at you like he’s planning on eating you or something. It’s odd.”

You glance up at the man that’s leaning against the kitchen counter next to you, noticing how the whites of his eyes are red instead of as the name suggests. His pupils are so big and round and hazy that they remind you of a cat looking around in the dark. He seems to be so high that he doesn’t have a problem with saying whatever is on his mind.

Either that, or he simply doesn’t give a shit. Both are valid reasonings whenever it comes to him.

“Kiba’s just… protective,” you manage to say after a brief moment of thought, shoulders shrugging. “He’s been like that ever since I can remember.”

Shikamaru’s eyebrow raises at this piece of information. “Even when you were kids?”

“Oh, yeah.” You nod vehemently. “Back then, it was even more intense than it is now, I think. You should have seen him playing a friendly game of dodgeball when we were in high school.”

‘HEY! AIM THAT BALL AT HER HEAD AGAIN, AND I SWEAR TO GOD I’LL SMASH YOUR FUCKING TEETH IN NEXT, YOU LOUSY FUCK!’

The memory makes the corners of your lips curl upwards. You’re quick to hide the smile behind the rim of the cup.

“Hm.” Shikamaru hums, puffing out a tired sigh that you’ve had the pleasure of hearing countless of times ever since meeting him during your first year of college.

“What is it?” you inquire.

“Nothing,” he replies. “Just thinking.”

“You’re always doing that,” you say. “Thinking.”

“Someone’s gotta do it,” he answers, giving you a lazy grin that doesn’t seem to reach his dark brown eyes.

You huff a laugh at the tease. “And what is it that you’re thinking about with that brilliant brain of yours, Megamind?”

“Stuff.”

“Stuff?”

“Yeah.”

You turn to look at him, using the chance to drag your gaze over his side profile. Over his high cheekbones, as well as the sharp outline of his nose. The cigarette that’s tucked behind his ear. The slight wrinkle between his eyebrows that tells you he’s thinking very hard about something.

A couple of loose strands of dark brown hair have escaped his ponytail, framing his face in a way that flatters him greatly. Being so dark, they’re a perfect contrast to his creamy skin that’s so unlike Kiba’s sun-kissed one.

Come to think of it, they’re nothing alike. Shikamaru is lean in build despite being awfully lazy by nature, whereas Kiba packs muscle with hard work. He’s smart, rational, not at all prone to anger, and can sometimes come across as borderline aloof. 

Besides a couple of other things, all he seems to care about is putting in the minimal amount of effort when it comes to getting by in school, so that he can achieve mediocre — but passable — grades, and thus has nothing left to worry about by the time the weekend rolls around and the bong comes out to play.

His tendency to be overly laid-back was the exact reason why you had decided to go out of your comfort zone and fool around with him last spring. With no strings attached, you’d fucked while still managing to remain friends afterwards. Besides that, he was such a perfect opposite to the man you’d left behind in your hometown, that it had almost been a, dare you say, refreshing experience.

But Kiba never did go fully away, now did he? Not even after you’d completely ghosted him and finally ceased stalking him on Instagram; trying to rid yourself of the sinking feeling in your chest that appeared whenever he posted a picture with his girlfriend at the time. Not even after you’d deleted the chat logs you shared with him on just about every app you could find, knowing you’d regret it afterwards. Not even when you’d left the pictures and other memories back at home, sealed away in a box underneath your bed.

You’d been sleeping with the deer while silently yearning for the wolf.

It’s why you broke the entire thing off with Shikamaru sometime after the New Year, aiming to rather try and move on solely by your own efforts — fresh start and everything. All whilst not knowing that you’d become a mate to your childhood best friend by the end of summer.

“Shika,” you utter, your gaze as soft as your voice. “I–”

“It’s okay. I think I got the gist of it,” he cuts in, staring at his shoes. “Whatever it is that you two have going on between you; it’s older than what we had. So, it’s more… fleshed out? From being best friends since kindergarten and stuff.”

“Yeah.” You sigh, angling your cup so that you can take the last sip of your drink. “I guess it is, when you say it like that.”

Shikamaru reaches out to wipe away the rogue droplet of cranberry juice that comes sliding down from the corner of your mouth, then. However, before his thumb can even make contact with your bottom lip, you’re quick to do it yourself.

“Am I interrupting somethin’?” a voice calls out from your left.

Kiba’s jaw is set and his eyes are hard when you turn to look at him. He stands in the middle of the doorway that leads into the hall; the light that’s shining behind his back obscuring most of his face from view, however you can still see that he forces his expression to remain fairly neutral as he begins to approach you. 

Every step he takes towards you makes you feel like it could make the ground shake. It doesn’t of course, at least not in a physical kind of sense, but his anger is becoming so palpable the closer he gets that it very much could. For some reason, it’s even worse that he’s trying to hide how pissed he is.

After all, Kiba is prone to anger that resembles a wildfire — the kind that spreads quickly and consumes everything in its path. Once it’s started, it’s hard to make it fizzle out before it does too much damage. You just have to let it do its thing and pretend like everything is normal.

Burn, baby, burn!

“No,” you say when he reaches you, pretending like the entire ordeal doesn’t faze you at all, despite the fact that your heart is now pulsating wildly in your chest. “You aren’t.”

You’re well aware that he wouldn’t hurt you, but that doesn’t mean the others are safe.

He stands before you like a wall of muscle, emitting white-hot rage with every exhale. With how tense his shoulders have gotten, as well as the bulging vein in the side of his neck that’s surely there because of how harshly he’s gritting his teeth, he looks like he could crush someone to death. 

However, his touch ends up being surprisingly tender when you allow him to grip you by the chin. You repress a relieved chuckle as he angles your head back slightly, making you realize that he’s touching the exact same spot Shikamaru would have if you’d let him. So possessive.

His brow furrows as he inspects you and his voice is rough as gravel as he says, “Why are your lips so red?”

“Cranberry juice,” you explain, pointing to the empty cup you’re still holding in your hand. “How did beer pong go?”

“It sucked ass,” he drawls, tugging on the brim of his hat with impatient fingers. The fireball of anger keeps on sizzling in the pit of his stomach. It makes his blood run hot. “The two dudes I went against were both so shit-faced that they could barely stand, much less score... I regret being sober.”

“Weren’t you drinking before, though?” Shikamaru asks all of a sudden.

Uh-oh. At the sound of the Nara’s voice, you watch as he slowly turns his head to the side in the same uncanny way a robot would have done.

Kiba looks the other man right in the eye, making a quick mental note to keep both of his arms glued to his sides in order to refrain himself from swinging just because he even had the balls to speak up while he was talking to you.

Jesus fucking Christ, since when did his temper get this short? He needs to work on it in the future or else it’s going to become a problem.

“Beer doesn’t do much for a guy like me,” he grits out after a brief moment of recollecting himself.

His tone is completely flat. Icy. 

You stare at the muscle that keeps on fluttering in his cheek even if he’s trying his hardest to tame it. At how yellow his eyes have gotten, nearly glowing in the dimly-lit kitchen, threatening to ruin the ruse of being contacts. At the way his chest heaves; rising up and down in such a manner that it makes you fear he’s seconds away from pouncing.

Shikamaru, being the intelligent man that he is, must have come to the same conclusion, because now he pushes from the counter with an awkward bounce in his step as he says, “Well, I guess it’s time for my smoke break… If you’ll excuse me.”

Either that, or the more primal part of his brain is telling him to get the fuck out before it’s too late. It’s so bad that even the make out enthusiasts proceed to follow his example.

“Bye, Shika,” you utter quickly, giving your fellow classmate a small wave when he passes by. Meanwhile, Kiba only stares, probably drilling warning holes into the poor guy’s back all the way to the very end of the hall.

Alone in the kitchen at long last, your best friend allows himself to sigh as a means to relieve some tension. The muscles in his arms relax as he rests them on either side of you, successfully trapping you against the counter.

You don’t feel caged, though. That’s the important part.

Led by that comforting feeling, you place the cup onto the counter before reaching out to carefully stroke him over the chest. “You okay?”

“No,” he grumbles, trying not to preen right in front of you at the touch. 

Your eyebrows draw together. “What’s wrong?”

His do, too. “You know damn well what’s wrong.”

“Enlighten me, please.”

“Not that it’s a you problem or anything…” He sighs again and this time the sound is way longer than earlier. “But I can’t leave ya alone for two seconds without someone immediately trying to sneak their way into your pants.”

“What?” The laugh you let out is a slightly incredulous one. “I know that you’re forced to see me in some kind of holy light because of the mating bond, but you’re seriously flattering me way too much with this one, Kiba.”

“Well, it’s the truth,” he says, his lips thinning into a firm line. “What do you think that the douchebag with the cig and the big-ass forehead was tryin’ to do just now? Ask you to join his debate club?”

You push aside the insult for now, making a note to prohibit him from saying it aloud whenever you’re in the company of others. “His name is Shikamaru.”

“I don’t care what his name is,” Kiba says, bristling. “All I know is that I could smell how hard his dick was getting around you from a mile away, and it made me-”

“Jealous?” you cut in.

He frowns. “I was gonna say grossed out, but sure.”

You giggle before biting your lip to stop the sound. “Come to think of it, that does sound pretty gross, you’re right.”

“Whatever.” He huffs, lowering his gaze. It’s not long before there’s an even deeper frown gracing his mouth.

“What is it now?” you ask.

“Nothing. Well… I just- Ugh.” He groans in frustration, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I know I said that I’d always respect your decision when it came down to choosin’ between me or someone else, but I didn’t think it’d be this… hard.”

“What are you going on about?” You pry his hand away so that you can look him in the eyes. His pupils are nothing but slits. “I haven't made any kind of decision yet. Nothing happened.”

“Okay, but still… Seeing someone else trying to touch you like that, scenting it…” he says. “I thought I could handle it for your sake, but clearly that ain’t the case. I should’ve cooled off before trying to start shit, and yet I actively chose to behave like a dick instead.”

“Actually, I thought you did a pretty decent job at controlling your awfully jealous self. Give or take,” you console, giving him a playful wink. It only causes his brow to furrow further.

“That’s not the point. Jealousy might be all fun and games to regular people, but it’s different with me. I felt like I was seconds away from skinning the dude alive… And maybe eating him afterwards, I dunno,” he says, his expression turning even more troubled than before. “Bet he’d taste like shit, though.”

“Well… What matters is that you didn’t do that.” You pat his shoulders as a form of encouragement and quickly decide on not telling him about your history with Shikamaru just yet since you’re not particularly fond of the idea of having a body on your hands. “One step at a time, yeah?”

“I guess,” he mutters. Disappointment still continues to bubble in Kiba’s stomach. It brings forth a slightly bitter taste on his tongue.

You stare at him, raking your gaze over the great expanse of his shoulders, down to his forearms, which he’s got revealed due to the sleeves being rolled up to his elbows. Now that the initial anger has diminished from his face, he just looks plain miserable. Like a puppy that’s been soaked to the bone, despite that he’s far bigger than that.

“You wanna go home and cuddle it out?” you blurt out all of a sudden, tracing the tattoos on his left forearm with your index finger.

He peers up at you from underneath his lashes. Not wanting to come across as even more clingy or suffocating, all he utters is, “If that’s what you want.” 

“I’m asking you.”

He looks down again, bright yellow eyes zeroing in on his shoes. If it weren’t so dark in this godforsaken kitchen, perhaps you would’ve noticed the subtle blush tinging his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

“I mean… If you really don’t wanna stay here,” he trails off, swallowing thickly. “Then, yeah. I suppose we could go back to yours and cuddle a little.”

You grin. “Look at you getting all mushy on me.”

Kiba gives you an eye roll. “Oh, shut up before I change my mind and just catch the first flight home.”

———

Despite initially not wanting to seem clingy, Kiba becomes exactly that after you both rinse off and clamber into bed that night.

In the dark, surrounded fully by your scent that lingers everywhere in your room, he feels safe enough to let his guard down; allowing himself to really dote on you properly — like he’s wanted to do for the last two months. 

As a result, his arm is protectively slung over your waist, and his legs are entangled with yours as he spoons you. His hand is beneath your shirt, tracing soft, lazy circles over your stomach. There are no claws in sight.

“God, I’ve missed this,” he grumbles at some point, sighing with contentment and squeezing you even closer to him. 

“Me too,” you admit, enjoying the close proximity. “Especially our dumb late night convos.”

You’ve been talking about everything and nothing in particular for the last hour or so; giggling and snickering like children and continuing on catching up, simply enjoying each other’s company. Just like old times.

Kiba clicks his tongue against his teeth in disagreement. “What d’you mean? They’re always dumb.”

“Well yeah, but that’s because they include you,” you tease, suppressing a tiny squeal when he pokes you in the side.

“As far as I know, it takes two to hold a conversation,” he fires back, squeezing your hip. “Unless you’re a nutcase, that is.”

“Hey, now… I talk to myself sometimes,” you say, turning your head to the side just enough to face him. “When I’m, like, thinking out loud and stuff.”

He quirks a brow at this. “Weirdo.”

“Pfsh.” You huff, rolling your eyes. “If anyone’s the weirdo here, then it’d be you, Mr. On all levels except physical, I am a wolf.”

“See, that doesn’t make any sense because I am a wolf on a physical level.” He drums his fingers against your skin playfully, hinting that he’ll maybe poke you in the side again. “Therefore, your joke sucks.”

“It’s still funny, though,” you protest. “And look at you, using your big boy words. Therefore. What’s gonna be next? Begging for a shilling?”

You watch as he smiles that wretched grin that shows off his dimple. His laugh is quiet, but it kindles a flame of affection inside your heart.

“You’re such a pain in the ass, you know that?” he says, still laughing.

“So I’ve been told, yeah,” you reply with a beaming smile of your own. His mood is contagious. “Multiple times.”

“Mm. I like it, though. This more confident, outgoing version of you.” After a brief moment of silence, he adds, “It makes me less worried.”

You ask, “Less worried about what?”

“If you’ll be able to stick up for yourself in case I’m not around,” he explains, not offering much more.

You blink as slight confusion begins to settle in. “And why wouldn’t you be around?”

“Well, you know,” he says, shrugging as a means to appear indifferent, but failing. “If you decide on being with someone other than me, then I guess there’d be no reason for me to stay in your life.” 

“What do you mean there’d be no reason?” you say, frowning deeply now. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you’re aware that the thing you say next is selfish, but you just can’t help it, “You’d still be my best friend… Wouldn’t that be enough?”

He smiles again, but this time it’s a little less beaming and a little more painful. “Bunny, of course it’d be enough. I’d spend my whole life trying to give ya the love that I think you deserve, even as just a friend. But let’s be real here… If I did that, it’d just cause… problems.”

“Problems?” you repeat, your voice hurt. “What kind of problems?”

“You’ve seen for yourself what happened tonight,” he says.

“Nothing happened tonight.” Quick frustration makes you groan. “And I’m pretty sure I’ve told you that already, so why are we going over the same conversation again?”

“Exactly, nothing happened, but look at the way I still reacted to it,” he says, sighing out of exasperation instead of contentment this time around. “I was ready to go batshit crazy over nothing… How do you think I’m gonna react if we meet up and you’ve got your boyfriend’s scent all over ya? Who says I’m not gonna go and try to bite the guy’s head off?”

You stare at each other. The knot in your belly tightens at the way he looks at you; his eyes still burning with that striking yellow shade, despite the inner conflict that subdues it ever so slightly now.

“Do you think we were destined to be together?” you ask out of the blue.

Kiba gives you a look that tells you he’s starting to worry if you’ve gone a bit nuts. “What?”

“I mean, like, do you think that we had no say in this entire thing,” you attempt to explain lamely. “Or, well… that you had no say in it?”

“I don’t believe in destiny,” he says finally.

“Well, what would you call this thing between us, then?” you mumble. “I mean, isn’t a mating bond supposed to be just some kind of a wolfy version of it?”

“I- No, I don’t think so,” he says, slowly shaking his head. “I already told you that I approached you because of the bond at first, yeah… But over the years, I’m pretty sure that I’ve come to love you on purpose. Like, on my own terms.”

Your heart skips a beat. The world feels like it’s spinning all of a sudden.

“How can you tell the difference, though?” you croak out. “Between genuine love and the forced one that the bond is pushing on you?”

“Um… Because I’m willing to spend the rest of my life alone, fighting against the red string of fate or whatever the fuck you want to call it, if it means that you’ll be happy, I guess,” he whispers quietly, his expression suddenly thoughtful. “Come to think of it, it’d be like my own personal fuck you towards destiny, hah.”

There’s no one else beside you and him in the house right now — your roommates are still out partying and doing god knows what — but he says it like it’s a secret that he’s been keeping for years.

And you, well, you feel like crying. Like curling yourself into a little ball underneath the covers that you’re sharing with him at the moment, and simply sobbing your heart out until it’s leaking out of your chest.

But instead of that, you look at him. You reel the tears in as you really look at him, and you say, “All right.”

You’ve always been so cautious. So hesitant and unsure — nothing like him. Ever since he’d revealed the truth during that godforsaken camping trip, Kiba speaks of the love that he feels for you so openly. 

Goddammit, he loves you. He actually loves you. Not because of the bond, not because you’re his perfect biological match, not because his instinct is telling him to do so. 

No, he loves you because of the memories that you’ve made together. Because of the laughter that you’ve shared. Because of all the good and the bad and everything else that’s in-between.

He loves you because he wants to, not because he needs to.

“All right?” he repeats, studying your face. “What’s that supposed t’mean?”

“It means that I’m done taking it slow. I think,” you say, trying to stop your upper lip from twitching. Your body feels tense all over once again; you feel like you’ll start bursting at the seams because of the storm of emotions that’s brewing inside you. “For once in my life, I think that I’m choosing to go all in.”

Kiba’s heart begins to pound so hard that he can hear it ringing in his ears.

“You… You mean…?” he trails off, not even daring to finish the sentence.

“Yes,” you say as your breathing slightly quickens. “We can give this thing a try; properly this time. I-I mean, fuck it, right? We haven’t been just friends for a long while now, so what’s there to lose anyway?”

He smiles at that, and for a second it’s like you can see him again — your childhood best friend. Short and scrawny, but equipped with that brazen assurance that used to get him into all sorts of trouble.

“Yeah,” he says. His smile nearly grows from ear to ear. He feels like he could touch the sky at that very moment; unbridled joy is beginning to overcome him completely. “I suppose you’re right.”

“I, umm… I guess it’s time to admit that I’ve been crushing on you for years, then. Well, I think! I’m pretty sure I was always head over heels for you, even back in high school, but I didn’t allow myself to dwell on it too much because of… well, you know,” you trail off, still riding that high of confidence that allows every bit of truth to spill out of you now. 

“So when we almost kissed before I left for college, I… I got scared. You were with Tamaki at the time, and I was leaving, and I thought you’d end up regretting it from the way it would surely mess up your whole relationship and our friendship.” You look at him, eyes apologetic. “I didn’t mean to ghost you like I did, but god… The entire thing was so messy, just chaos waiting to happen, and I was too big of a coward to deal with all that, especially after moving across the country and turning a new chapter in my life. And I’m well aware that it’s no excuse for what I did, but I just wanted you to know… the real reason behind it. And that I’m sorry.”

“I wouldn’t have regretted it, though,” he says, his gaze softening. “If you’d kissed me back at mine that night, I would never have regretted it. My relationship with Tam was a fuckin’ bust either way.”

“I know that now, you dumbass!” You huff, eyebrows cinching with frustration and stress. “But what’s the use if I didn’t know it back then.”

“Bunny,” he coos, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Breathe.”

“Oh, shut up,” you fuss, pushing him in the chest. “I’m over here, pouring my heart out to you, and you’re basically telling me to calm down. Idiot.”

He snickers at your anger, thinking it’s so cute that it’s to die for. “Well, what do you want me to do, then?”

“I want-” Your teeth sink into your bottom lip, chewing on it as shyness manages to creep up on you at long last. You don’t feel as confident as before when it comes to admitting to your desires out loud, so the only time you stop your incisor from digging deeper, is when you mumble, “I want you to kiss me.”

If Kiba’s gaze had been soft before, now it’s gone utterly sweet and gooey. It makes his lids drop very, very, very low on his eyes.

“Yeah?” is all he says.

“Yeah. But not like you did back at home,” you say, remembering the urgency and the forceful clash of teeth that he’d given you because of the rut that had been cooking his brain into mush at the time. “I want it done properly this time.”

“I can do that,” he says, chuckling quietly. “But don’t act like you didn’t enjoy our first kiss. I could smell how excited you got over it, remember?”

“Whatever,” you hiss, bunching up the front of his T-shirt into your fists. “Either you behave and kiss me like a gentleman, or you’re sleeping on the floor tonight.”

“Hah, all right, all right! No need to threaten me, jeez,” he says. He’s still laughing as he caresses your cheek with one hand and angles your head so that he can do what you’re asking him for. “C’mere, you grouch… Let’s get smoochin’.”

“I hate you.”

“I thought you said you loved me.”

“I said I liked you, not-”

The rest of your sentence is broken off by a kiss.

Unlike the first time, it’s gentle. Perhaps you could even call it romantic. He cups your cheek instead of gripping it, and doesn’t become pushy; rather allowing you to take charge of the pace. There’s no tongue, only lip brushing against lip. Your breaths intermingle, to the point that you both start quietly panting in-between the short little pauses that you use for air. 

Your stomach is doing backflips by the time he slowly pulls back to look at you. His eyes are not only yellow, they’re also ravenous, and they get even more intense when you reach out to comb your fingers through his hair.

The sudden yearning that swoops down upon him makes Kiba’s throat feel so dry that it’s like it’s burning from the inside out. It’s not quite the same as it was back during his rut, but he’s getting there. Oh, he’s getting there, all right.

“More?” he asks after the longest time of silence. His voice has turned completely hoarse. 

“Mhmm, yeah,” you hum your approval, turning around to lay on your back. He instantly uses the chance to prop himself up with one elbow and drapes his upper half over you.

With his face only a couple of centimeters away from your own now, you end up nearly nose to nose. His golden chain dangles from his neck, the sleek metal occasionally cooling your skin in places that it comes in contact with. It causes you to giggle. He smiles when he leans in to kiss you again.

“Wait. I’ve got a question,” you mumble against his lips.

“Mhmm, spill,” he replies in-between kisses.

“I was thinking… Would it be… too much, if I maybe bought a golden initial of my name for you to wear?” you ask, gliding your finger along the piece of jewelry. “Like, as a not-so-secret birthday present for you next year?”

“Nah, I’d wear it,” he says simply. “Only if you wear mine, too, though.”

“Sure.” Your smile grows, little by little. “I’m in need of a new necklace anyway… Just nothing too flashy, okay?”

He snickers. “We’ll get you one of those big-ass golden dollar signs with the diamonds on top, all right?”

“Okay, yeah, that way I can always resell it.”

“Meanie.”

Your hands run through his hair for a second time as you proceed to explore each other’s mouths after months of nothing. They tug at the roots once or twice, making him grunt, before travelling down the nape of his neck and settling on his strong back. Nails grazing the soft cotton of his T-shirt, you nearly start to claw at it when his tongue touches your bottom lip.

Eventually, the kissing gets needier. More desperate. You part your lips for him and he takes his time dragging his tongue across the roof of your mouth, the flat of your teeth, tasting you fully and savouring the minty flavour of the toothpaste that you used earlier. So much saliva gets exchanged.

Besides that, there’s also phantom electricity sizzling across your skin when he carefully sinks one fang into your bottom lip and tugs on it. His caution is endearing and hot to die for, but it also feels like he’s edging you kind of. It takes you all the effort you can muster to not let a moan slip out. 

What you do end up doing, however, is taking his hand and pushing it between your legs. Just like that, all by yourself.

And it’s warm there, between your legs — perhaps even a bit too much, Kiba thinks. He stiffens at your actions, hesitating only for a second before he cups your pussy right over the comfortable shorts that you wear to bed. Watches with semi-focused vision as your hips buck without any sort of doubt that would otherwise be common for you, searching for more friction despite the seam that is now pressing against your clit.

As you continue to rub yourself against the heel of his palm, more and more sweat begins to ooze out of your pores. You’re getting hot, so your hands work seemingly on their own to try and subdue the sudden rise in temperature as you curl your fingers around the hem of your T-shirt and hike it up — all until it’s touching the collar.

With your front now almost fully exposed, Kiba curses under his breath when the sweet, musky aroma of your arousal steadily begins to fill the room that you’re in. The door is closed and the windows are shut, so it hits him like a truck. His mind is getting foggier by the millisecond because of it.

“Something the matter?” you utter sweetly, honey dripping from every word. At this point, your chest has begun to heave with some untamed form of anticipation. You sound nothing like yourself.

“No, everything’s fine,” he mumbles, swallowing thickly. Once again, he’s beginning to borderline drool, this time at the sight of your tits. It makes it hard to talk. “Just enjoyin’ the view.”

“Oh, yeah? Is that so?” You fondle your breasts, running your thumbs across the sensitive nipples, making a show for him just to rile him up further. Who knew you had it in you? “Wanna tell me just how much you’re enjoying it?”

Spit threatens to drip down the corner of his mouth. He sucks it back in the last second. “Bunny… What’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing’s gotten into me? Well, not yet at least… But come on, tell me.” You continue your ministrations, testing his patience. “You love to talk, don’t you?”

“I love to show off more,” he says before he moves his hand from its spot between your legs just so that he can grab you by the wrist and make you touch him below his waistline. “Here... This is all ‘cause of you. Happy?”

You blink as he curls your fingers around the bulge that’s pressing against his boxers, wanting out. Let out a breathless, almost patronizing kind of laugh. “Fuck, you’re so hard… I’m surprised it doesn’t hurt.”

“It does hurt,” he says, voice incredibly strained now. His lips quiver slightly when you give him a stroke all on your own, without him having to ask or beg for it. It makes his mind shift to other things than whatever it is that’s making you behave this way. “I want you so bad; like, so fucking bad… You’re drivin’ me completely nuts.”

You smile at how honest he is. “Touch me and we’ll get there, okay?”

And he smirks, even if his teeth are getting bigger again from the way he’s slowly losing control, gradually affecting his speech. “Don’t hafta tell me twice.”

He kisses you again, but this time it’s harder than before and done in a way that mashes your lips against your teeth. When you open your mouth wider to ease the pressure, all he does is fill it with his tongue. He gets so pushy that you have to resort to tugging on his hair to make him relent.

“Sorry,” he mumbles sheepishly, rather moving his hot mouth to your jawline and neck.

“It’s fine,” is all you manage to say before the grazing of sharp canines immediately shuts you up.

He moves fast after that, almost urgently, from how exhilarated he is to have you like this underneath him; only taking the time to get your T-shirt out of the way so that he can lick your collarbone next. You don’t even get a proper chance to react to it before he’s already dipping even lower to suck on your nipple instead.

“Ha-ah.” Your breathing stutters as you watch his nose smush against the fat of your breast. He’s swirling his tongue around the nipple, nipping it ever so gently from time to time and tugging on it with his lips.

Meanwhile, his hand has slid between your legs again. He’s running his knuckle up and down your slit the same exact way he’d done back at his place during the summer, making the seam of your pyjama shorts rub against your clit. The sensation makes your legs want to close up from the sensitivity that’s sparking there, but he makes sure you’re spread wide open for him at all times.

Eventually, he pops his mouth off your nipple only to begin paving a path of kisses down your stomach. And they’re audible, the kisses. He’s leaving little remnants of glimmering saliva on your skin as he goes, making your middle covered in it.

It’s almost fascinating how smoothly he moves for such a big guy. Before you know it, your shorts are tossed onto the floor right along with your panties, and your legs are propped on his shoulders, the heels of your feet digging into his back.

“Fuck, your pussy smells so good,” he rasps when there’s no barrier separating him from you anymore. He swallows hard at the scent of arousal that’s as strong as ever now, Adam’s apple bobbing with the action. “It’s makin’ me drool… I can’t stop it, m’sorry. I know it’s gross.”

You want to hide your face into the pillow because of how timid his words are making you somewhere deep down inside, but instead all you do is arch your back when he noses his way between your thighs and presses a sloppy kiss there.

His tongue follows suit immediately afterwards and he wastes no time with licking your slit, nudging between your folds, groaning with satisfaction at the taste. Your hands dig into his hair in an instant, grabbing fistfuls when he suckles on your clit.

It’s all happening so fast but at the same time it doesn’t seem fast enough. Heat intensifies inside the pit of your stomach, spreading throughout your thighs, your legs, right to the very tips of your toes. You dig your heels deeper into his back, pull him closer by the hair so that you can receive more.

“Shit, fuck, oh, fuuuck,” you half-moan, half-whisper, borderline gasping for air when you feel his tongue push inside you. It’s longer than a normal human’s, slightly coarser too. It makes you wiggle your hips as you try to fuck yourself against his goddamn face in response.

You have no clue if there’s some secret chemical component in his saliva that’s making you act this feral, but you simply can’t stop writhing and moaning like a slut. What’s even worse is that he tongue-fucks you like his life depends on it. In and out, in and out, the occasional swipe up and down. It’s getting messier and messier, so sloppy that there’s surely a puddle forming on the bed sheet that you’re lying on currently.

And just when you thought you had it all, his tongue gets replaced by his fingers. You tense up, an alarming thought about his claws rushing through your dazed mind, however you’re quickly relieved to find out that they’re nowhere in sight.

They’re just normal, human fingernails on normal, human fingers. Reaching deep inside you. Fuck, reaching so deep inside you. Making you see stars behind closed eyelids. Stretching you and filling you at the same time, making you nearly jump out of your skin when they curl upwards and touch that especially tender spot.

The heat that’s swirling in your tummy worsens as a result — if that is even humanly possible. You feel it rising, feel your face scrunching up, feel your teeth gritting, feel your hips picking up pace, feel your hands grabbing fistfuls of his hair again, tugging way more harshly than you otherwise would as your climax starts to approach fast.

“Gonna- I’m gonna-...!”

“Nuh-uh,” he says all of a sudden, turning his pace to something painfully laggard, to something that isn’t nearly as quick and fulfilling enough to make you cum. “You’re not gonna… Not yet, at least.”

It hurts, it physically hurts; that unsatisfied feeling that resides in the place where your pleasure should be by now. Especially when he purses his lips and allows a glob of spit to land directly onto your pussy, turning you practically slippery between your legs.

He pushes the spit in with the help of his fingers.

“Wha-?” Your eyes grow big as saucers, stinging with upcoming tears at his denial. He’s gotten you so worked up that you just can’t help but behave like a spoiled pillow princess now. Like a proper crybaby.

“What, hm? You gonna cry?” He sneers — surprisingly meanly — at the lost look that appears on your face now. Wiping his mouth against your thigh, he kisses it before he says, “Relax, you’re gonna cum… I just want your bunny cunt squeezin’ around my dick, not my fingers.”

“Then lemme sit on it…! C’mon, lemme ride you or something,” you cry out, voice cracking with urgency and desperation that even you, yourself, don’t recognize. 

You push up from the bed with the help of your elbows so that you can clamber on top of him and ride him like the best cowgirl to ever live under the fucking sun, but all he does is press his hand into the middle of your chest and shoves you right back down onto the mattress.

For fuck’s sake, was this how he felt back when he’d begged you to help him find relief during his rut? Your body feels like it’ll drop dead any second now if you don’t get dicked down soon.

“No, you’ll hurt yourself if you do that ‘cause you ain’t stretched out enough yet. Besides, I’ve got a different idea anyway,” he says, reaching for the back of his T-shirt’s collar so that he can tug it off. “Turn onto your side.”

You stare at the rippling muscle, as well as at all the tattoos that run up his left arm to his shoulder. His hair is messy and his eyes almost glow in the dark. He’s buff, hairy, with sharp teeth and equally as keen-edged facial features. 

In that exact moment, he looks like the embodiment of animalistic hunger. Either that, or it’s just straight up carnage if it were a person.

“Are you going to mount me?” you ask, guts squeezing with anticipation at the mere thought of it. “Like you did back in the woods? ‘Cause I really… enjoyed that last time.”

His brows rise, short-lived surprise crossing his face before he chuckles. “Hah… Later, okay? Gonna fuck you sideways first and stretch you out a lil’ so my cock can fit.”

While Kiba tugs down his underwear, you busy yourself with doing as you’re told. You lie onto your side, clenching and rubbing your thighs together with lewd suspense and bated breath. By the time he spoons you, finally completely naked himself, you’re already bending your legs at the knee, pushing your ass out for him.

“Somebody needs it bad, huh?” he taunts as he pulls you closer to his chest. 

You’re in the same exact position as you were before all of this had started, the only difference is that you’re both naked now.

And, well, you’ve also got his cock sliding up and down your sticky pussy now. Got it smearing pre-cum and arousal and spit together, making you both groan out quiet noises of pleasure whenever the fat cockhead catches against your entrance, which feels like it’s fucking throbbing at this point.

He did something to you, didn’t he? He stuck his tongue fully inside your cunt for the first time instead of only licking and prodding it, and all of a sudden you’re forced to behave like a cat in heat.

“Kiba,” you whisper, breathing so fast that it’s almost frantic. You’re clawing at the sheets and rubbing your cheek against the pillow as you say, “Put it in... Fuck… Mmph, for the love of god, just put it in already…! I need your dick inside me.”

“For fuck’s sake, I’m trying,” he mumbles, frustration making him bite the inside of his cheek. “But I gotta go slowly first so that I don’t rip ya to shreds, bunny... And you beggin’ me for it is not helping ‘cause it’s only making me want to do just that.”

“I don’t care about any of that, just… just put the tip in at least,” you mewl out between words, wiggling your hips, curling your toes. Turning your head to the side to look at him, you instead kiss him with the same forceful shove forward the second your eyes land on him. “Just the tip, yeah? Okay? Like we did it back in the tent.”

He stares at you, jaw clenched and teeth grinding together from how intensely he’s trying to keep himself in-check while also having to do the same exact thing for you as well now. He can smell your need, the sweat that coats your skin, the arousal. Can hear the heavy beating of your heart.

You’re both going to devour each other if one of you doesn’t have some self-control. So Kiba tries to be the one to have it, taking another long moment to grind against you before he finally lets his gaze slip from your nearly bewildered expression, and rather focuses it on guiding his cock straight into your cunt.

You arch against him when his cockhead spreads your folds apart and slowly makes its way inside. Jaw relaxing at the sensation of finally having something to ease all that painful throbbing that’s going on, you gasp for air almost in relief despite the pesky feeling of your pussy squeezing around the girth of his dick.

It’s already demanding more.

“Fuck, bunny,” he grunts, thrusting slowly, easing himself in. “What’s wrong with you…? You’re suckin’ me right in… Shit… Makin’ it real hard f’me to not push in all the way.”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me, just-... j-just keep going,” you whimper out, face turning hot when you feel slick dribbling down his length. He’s so big, perhaps even too big, but your cunt just keeps on taking more and more. It never seems to be enough.

Minutes pass and you’re gradually losing your sense of self right along with them. All you care about is having him inside you. So you fuck the tip first, then half of his cock, and afterwards — fucking finally — you start taking the whole thing.

And it feels good, relieving almost. He’s got his nose nuzzled into the crook of your neck, inhaling and drooling over the spot where your scent is the strongest as he holds your leg up for you and just slowly pounds away. In and out. In and out. In and out.

Meanwhile, you’re drooling all over the pillow as well, blindly reaching behind you to stroke his hair with twitching fingertips as your hips help him in meeting yours over and over again. Every time his fingers dig into the soft spot that’s underneath your knee, it makes you tighten up.

His cock twitches inside you when he buries it in to the hilt, really allowing himself to sink balls deep and making you do that cute little wince that wants to make him go batshit crazy. But instead of doing that, he steadies himself. Reels it back in. Tries to listen to your quick-paced heartbeat and even quicker breaths, despite that he’s paying attention to other things.

Because even if the sounds of skin slapping against skin aren’t that loud from how slowly he’s pushing into you, that doesn’t mean that they aren’t present. He can still hear them all. As well as the occasional gushy little noises that your pussy makes.

They make his balls tighten.

You don’t know how long you do this entire thing, but you orgasm three, three fucking times during it. To some it may be like a dream come true, however to you it’s exhausting. The overstimulation is wiping you out, and yet you keep pushing, keep asking for more, keep turning around to kiss him and whine out little pleas of ‘don’t stop, please don’t stop’.

The stretch stings, as does the spot on your neck where he sank his fangs earlier, but you welcome the overwhelming sensations with open arms. In fact, you’re so feral that you feel like you won’t survive the night if he doesn’t fuck and bite and squeeze this craving for pleasure out of you.

He does a pretty good job with it, though. With how wet you are, it’s fairly easy for Kiba to turn rougher; to turn more bestial and wild and relentless with every push and shove of his hips that he drills into yours. He even uses the vibe he’s had to listen to you pleasure yourself with over the phone these last couple of weeks, in order to help you with your little problem.

But you’re not just wet, you’re also insatiable — yes, that’s what you are! Constantly making noise and clawing at him like a little slut, looking at him with tearful eyes as the fever keeps on kicking you into the goddamn ground. So it’s only when he mounts you, aiming to fuck you like an animal, that you start feeling any sort of satisfaction that actually manages to stick. 

He uses his weight to roll you onto your tummy, and pins you down by placing you in a headlock that has you gasping for air, but also has you cumming on the spot again. You’re pretty sure that it’s the sheer, utter strength and the size difference between your head and his arm that has you behaving this way now instead of the daze, but who knows?

“Already? Christ,” he pants out, his hot exhales tickling your naked shoulder. His entire body is slick with sweat — you’re pretty sure you saw it dripping down his temples earlier. It’s no wonder that the last couple of kisses you’ve exchanged tasted salty. “Who would’ve thought that a good girl like you likes to be fucked this nasty, huh?”

Your lips try to part so that you can answer his jab with one of your own, however your face is squished against his tattooed bicep, rendering that task nearly impossible. Besides that, he’s growling into your ear, crushing you with his weight, getting bigger and bigger, until he’s throbbing inside your cunt, making your voice useless either way.

“My lil’ mate,” he continues, seemingly in a daze himself. He’s whipped at this point, completely pussy drunk. “You are, right? Mine?”

You still can’t say anything other than choked up gibberish from how firmly he’s holding you, however you do make an effort to nod.

But it’s not like he waits for you to actually answer. No, all he does is start picking up speed; starts pounding away for real, eventually making you feel like he’s in your fucking guts each time he draws back and slams right back in.

“Nngh… I’m close, real fuckin’ close... Gimme one more and then I’m… I’m knotting ya, okay, sweetheart? Yeah?” he rasps between quick breaths, voice so hoarse and hot that it ignites a fire straight up inside your soul. “Jus’ one more and then we’re makin’ pups, ‘kay?”

That last sentence alone is enough to get you reaching your finish real fucking fast. Your eyes roll back, your ass pushes up so that he can reach even deeper inside you. His balls slap against your clit with every harsh, unforgiving thrust, and it’s like you’ve gone to heaven.

Maybe it’s a good thing that he’s got you trapped in a headlock. Besides it being the hottest thing that a guy has ever done to you in bed so far, it also ensures that you stay nice and quiet. 

So it only takes you a minute or two to become undone underneath him because of all that’s happening. And the second you tighten around him — the strongest you’ve ever squeezed him tonight — his thrusting turns irregular and almost kind of jerky, picking up in speed more and more until he eventually reaches his climax and comes to a full stop.

Kiba grits his too-big teeth when he cums, spilling every last drop of his warm release inside you and closing his eyes during it. Every muscle in his body hurts from how overly tense he’d forced them to be whilst trying not to go too far since you’re so fragile. But as he wills himself to finally loosen up a little bit, he realizes that that hurts even more. The groan he lets out as a result can barely be registered as human.

But it’s not over just yet. You feel the now familiar, but equally as strange, sensation as his knot begins to swell inside you. The stretch builds up while it fills more and more space, pressing against your tender walls and causing your pussy to protest as it tries to accommodate all of him.

You’re stuck together once again, panting, sweating, trying to piece yourselves back into what you once were while also feeling completely, utterly fucked out.

His breathing is still heavy as he releases the headlock to ask, “What the fuck happened just now?”

“Oh, gosh.” You let out a small, muffled groan underneath him, fussing into the pillow, “I could ask you the same thing.”

“You acted like you were in heat,” he continues, concern shining in his yellow eyes. “Went all feral on me and shit.”

“I feel like I still am,” you say, whining when you feel his knot throbbing inside you in answer. “We’re probably gonna have to go for round two.”

“Fine by me.” He muses before a breathless snicker escapes him. “I’ll fuck you until sunrise if that’s what you want, baby.”

“Don’t act like you didn’t almost die from a heart attack just now.”

He grins from ear to ear. “Pussy so good it kills.”

You roll your eyes. “I wish it did.”

“All right, that’s it. You’re getting squished as punishment.”

“No, wait-”

Ignoring your protests, Kiba succumbs to the tiredness and drops his weight upon you exactly like he’d done the first time when he’d mounted you during the summer. However, before he can kiss you and shower you in praise for doing so well yet again, a small, sudden growl resonates from deep within his chest.

His sensitive wolf hearing picks up on the sound of keys jingling from the other side of the front door, as well as the drunken giggles and wheezing.

Your roommates are back. Great timing.

Looks like you’ll have to play it quiet.

———

Dating a werewolf is easier than expected, when said werewolf is also your best friend.

But even after being in a relationship with him for almost five years now — the last two of those spent living in an adorable little apartment together — you still can’t help but be fazed by how rough he ends up looking after every transformation.

Kiba’s shirt is torn in some places when he comes home the morning after he’d ventured out into the woods to cross off yet another full moon off his calendar. Besides the shirt, you also notice that his shoes are muddy and that his jeans are covered in dirt. Oh, and you’re pretty sure that there’s a twig poking out of his hair. 

All in all, he looks absolutely dead-beat; so exhausted that he can’t even give you a proper smile as he kicks his sneakers off and drags his feet across the kitchen floor. When he finally plops down onto the chair he favours, it’s accompanied by a sigh.

You stand up from your own seat so that you can walk over and give him a kiss on the forehead. When you do, you catch a whiff of his scent. He smells earthy; like rich soil and wet moss. Like a rainy forest.

“Hungry?” you mumble against his tan skin, combing your fingers through his hair to get rid of the twig that’s definitely stuck in there. After a bit of effort, you succeed in pulling it out and make sure to toss it in the trash as you head for the fridge.

“Starvin’,” he answers behind you, his voice completely worn out. “My stomach hurts like a motherfucker from how empty it is.”

“Well, that’s your own fault, now isn’t it? If you’d transformed here like you did last time, I would’ve made sure you were fed throughout the night,” you chide, rummaging through the fridge to pick up the carton of eggs you’d bought the day before. “I even took a day off work because of it, and yet you still decided to go out there into the woods.”

“I gotta keep that dawg in me somehow, don’t I?” he says, laughing like a kid.

“You can keep that dawg in you while you’re lying on a warm couch instead of the cold, wet ground,” you reply, grabbing the eggs. “Bacon?”

“Yes, please,” he says, propping his cheek against one hand.

With his eyes back to their normal brown, Kiba watches you move across the kitchen that you’d built together over the course of an entire week after moving in. He’d boasted that he was entirely capable of doing it himself and had cancelled on the assembly guys without even as much as offering you the chance to argue back. 

Nowadays, whenever he gets another similarly dumb idea, you use the kitchen as a firm example of the consequences that it may bring.

“If I didn’t know any better, I would have thought that you were trying to domesticate me,” he muses, feeling his stomach clench at the smell of food that’s beginning to sizzle on the pan now. “Or you just want to sit on my face when I’m in my monster form again. That’s also an option.”

God, he’s so hungry that it hurts.

“You’re lucky I don’t put you up for adoption just for saying that,” you say, tossing the egg shells away. With how fast embarrassment swoops in, twisting your expression into a flustered one, you’re happy that you’ve got your back turned towards him.

“What? You gonna tell me you didn't enjoy the stuff we did last month?” he asks, smirking at the memory. “‘Cause I seem to recall someone whining like a lil’ bitch in heat from only a couple flicks of tongue.”

He’s not wrong. Ever since he’d finally allowed you to see him in his other form a couple years ago, you’d been excited to experiment a little after the initial shock had worn off. So far, there’s been a lot of licking, plenty of dry humping and zero penetration whatsoever; if you exclude that one time when you tried to take him into your mouth but had ended up slobbering all over his dick instead.

He’s simply too big, and you’ve learned to accept it by now. Rubbing your pussy over the enormous length of his werewolf cock is all you can do, but it’s still satisfying either way. Especially when he cums because of how turned you are at the sight of him even when he’s fucking huge and equipped with sharp claws and teeth that could kill just as easily as they could protect. During those times, his release ends up covering your entire tummy and makes a mess out of his fur.

Nevertheless, Kiba feels so lucky that you’re willing to accept all of him. Feels like the luckiest man — or should he rather say wolf — to ever walk the face of the planet. It’s easier when he’s got a partner to lean on.

“Hey. Language,” you say, your voice stern.

“Sorry.” He lets out a soft little hum in apology that’s meant to appease you further. “I’ll stay home next month, okay? I promise.”

“You don’t have to,” you say, definitely wishing he did.

“I want to,” he says back.

When you go to place the plate before him, he pulls you down so that you can sit on his lap instead. After a little bit of squirming and whining about how he’s going to get your pyjama shorts dirty, you eventually settle down when he places his hand on your thigh and pats it affectionately. 

“You sure you want to stay here next month?” you mumble. Watching your bare feet dangle freely in the air now, you stroke him over the back of his head with an absent-minded look in your eyes. “I don’t want you to feel cooped up just because of me.”

“Yes, because I can’t take another month of seeing you be so worried about me,” he says sweetly, grabbing the fork that you’d placed on the table earlier.

Your expression turns blank. “Who said I was worried about you?”

He gives you a look that spells bullshit.

“…Oh fine, maybe I did worry just the tiniest bit,” you huff, pursing your lips. “But can you blame me? I mean, look at the shape you’re in whenever you come back!”

“Yeah, I look cool as fuck,” he mumbles before swallowing, already munching on the eggs. You just know he’ll wolf them down the second you get off his lap. “Like Bear Grylls.”

You blink, slowly. “Bear Grylls drank his own piss on live television.”

“I mean, if I-”

“No,” you cut in, sighing. “Whatever you were about to say just now, the answer is no.”

“Meh,” he says, taking another bite. “You’re no fun.”

You stare at his side profile, at the way his jaw works as he chews, at how the sun filters through the window that’s across the room and paints his tan skin golden. It’s not long before your hand is reaching out towards him, cupping his cheek so that you can press a warm kiss on his temple.

“Sucks to be you then, I guess,” you say, smiling cheekily. “Since you’re stuck with a lame mate and all that.”

“Nah, you’re cool as a mate,” he says, angling his head more into your touch on pure instinct. “You’re just a lame best friend. Still love ya, though!”

But despite the teasing remark that he’s just thrown your way, the truth is that Kiba loves you as his best friend just as much as he loves you as his mate. 

And judging by the little box that he’s hidden in the back of his closet recently, it seems like he’s going to love you as his wife very soon, too.

[chocochipsushi]

“𝐏𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐥 𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐌𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐲”

NSFW! minors do not interact! 18+ only!

2024 Chocochipsushi Kinktober - Day 3

⤷ Kakashi Hatake as your village's Hokage

⤷ TW: Husband!Kakashi, office sex (kinda), mommy kink (not quite), cunnilingus

⤷ WC: 1.5K

⤷ Short summary: The Hokage, who is also your husband, makes you wear pencil skirts and blames you for distracting him.

𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

“Lord Hokage?” 

Kakashi flicks his gaze up to your face again. He clears his throat, trying not to come off as embarrassed for getting caught staring at your ass. Again. 

“Yeah, that’s fine,” he mumbles, not entirely sure what he is agreeing to. 

When you’re quiet, he glances up at you again, only to see you giving him a reprimanding look with your hands on your hip. He groans and leans back in his chair, now blatantly ogling at your perky ass. He reaches out to cup the mound, his fingers instinctively curling to squeeze your flesh. 

“It’s your fault you always wear these pencil skirts, baby,” he blames. 

You scoff indignantly and slap his hand away. Dropping any honorifics now, you remind him, “Kakashi. You gave me this dress code when I started working as your PA.”

He flicks his gaze up to you as his lips stretch into a grin behind his mask. “Best decision of my life.”

“So you can’t blame me— Babe!” You scold when you feel your husband’s nimble hand tugging the hem of your skirt up. 

He gives you a slight pout as he tries to negotiate, “Let’s just take a break, baby doll. We’ve been working so hard.”

He’s actually not wrong. You’d been in and out of his office at least five times today, and each time for no less than 30 minutes. It is nearly five in the evening now and you have to admit that you are getting tired, too. 

So you let him pull your skirt up to expose your ass in a g-string. You jerk forward when you receive a smack on a cheek. Kakashi lets out a guttural groan. Hearing some rustling behind you, you turn your head to see him getting on his knees now, settling himself at eye level with your ass. He glances at you as he pulls his mask down. 

“Legs wider, Mommy.” 

You click your tongue at him and complain, “Stop calling me that!” He does it on purpose because he knows you hate it. He only grins at you in reply, so you huff and roll your eyes as you do as he says. 

“Now bend over,” he instructs. 

He hums in satisfaction at how well you listen to him despite always acting feisty with him. Finally, he leans in and he drops a kiss on your ass cheek. Your breath comes out shaky. The touch of Kakashi’s rough hands on your ass makes your heart jump and your breath hitch. He spreads your cheeks, at the same time pulling your g-string to the side, making you bite on your bottom lip at the cool stripe his tongue makes on your pussy. 

“Kakashi—”

You can feel his warm breath when he clicks his tongue and mutters against your lips, “Tsk, tsk. What did I tell you about work and personal life?”

“But—”

“Uh-uh.”

You let out a small whine, which only makes Kakashi smile. It was your feistiness that made him first fall for you but it is your secretly submissive side that makes him fall ever more in love with you everyday. 

“Lord Hokage,” you indulge, your tone just slightly whiny. 

“Mm.” 

As praise, he lands a light kiss on your folds, the tip of his nose prodding your hole just so slightly. He gave you more kisses; once, twice, three times. Squeezing your ass, his thumbs pull on your lips and spreads your folds, giving him the perfect view of your pretty cunt. Kakashi moans and gives your slit a long swipe, his tongue wet and warm from being in his watering mouth. 

“Even your pussy is so pretty,” he mutters before digging into his meal. 

You let out a long groan as you fall forward, bracing yourself against the table. Your husband is experienced in eating you out and he knows just what you like. 

The wetness. God, Kakashi is always so messy when he slobbers all over your pussy, combining both your juices and his saliva in a dirty, filthy mix. You wish you could see him right now because your favourite thing to watch is him coming up for air with the entire bottom half of his face drenched with your arousal. 

The sound. Holy fuck, he would make the most pronographic moans like he was the one getting pleasured. He enjoyed eating you out and he always made it known. And paired with the wet, smacking noises of Kakashi making out with your pussy, the room is always, always filled with the dirtiest sounds. 

The feeling of Kakashi’s face in your pussy. He is never shy in getting messy. Squeezing your cheeks together, your husband delves deeper into your cunt, the tip of his nose buried between your folds. Shaking his head side to side, his moans reverberate through your body as he smears your arousal all over his face. 

“Unngh…” you whine even as you shake your hips, so needy in wanting to smother your husband with your perfect ass. “Ka—” You feel a squeeze on your globe. “L-Lord Hokage,” you cry. “I’m so… close…”

Your husband hums into your pussy, his tongue slithering into your perfect little hole. Just as he flicks his tongue against your pulsing walls, you hear a knock on the door. You freeze, your body prickling with fear. 

You have never moved faster when you lift up off the table, your arms holding you up. You let out a hiss when you realise Kakashi is still buried in your pussy, this time stuffing his tongue in and out of your tight hole. Quickly grabbing your file, you hold it in front of you so the width of it hides the view of you getting your pussy eaten by the Hokage. 

“Yes?” You clear your throat when you hear how squeaky you sound. “Come in.” 

The door opens slowly and Shikamaru steps inside, only to stop when he realises that it is just you. His thin brows furrow as he scans the room. Your pussy squeezes around your husband’s wet muscle in fear and excitement. You know Kakashi is holding in his groan when you feel hot air breathing against your folds. 

“Where is the Sixth Hokage?” 

You gulp and answer as convincingly as you can, “Probably off trying to avoid his duties.”

“Again?” Shikamaru scoffs as he gives you a look. “You should put a leash on your husband.”

Your lips quirk when you feel Kakashi’s fingers squeezing your flesh, as if trying to stop himself from strangling the boy. With another scoff, Shikamaru exits the office, leaving just you and the Hokage in the room. Kakashi finally parts from your pussy. 

As he strokes your slit with his thumb, he complains, “Why is it so believable that I am skiving on the job?”

“Just look at what you’re doing now— Ah!” you slam the file down and fall forward, perking your ass up instinctively when he takes another dive into your cunt again. 

Kakashi digs his tongue between your tight walls again, his hand finally leaving your ass to touch your clit. Oh, fuck. He’s driving it home. 

You brace yourself, knowing what’s coming. Your husband strokes your stiff peak before rubbing the pearl between his finger and his thumb, playing with your clit like it is a toy. Even though he is gentle, your clit is so sensitive that jolts zap through your body and your pussy clamps down on his tongue. Kakashi lets out a loud moan against your pussy, now spreading his mouth wider to taking in more of you. He sucks and laps at your pussy, sometimes fucking your tight cunt with his expert tongue. 

The sound of him eating you out is so loud and so dirty. He knows you love it. Especially when you push your pussy into his face, your body moving on its own as you move your hips up and down, riding the Hokage’s face like the slut that you are. You can feel the tip of his nose sliding over your pussy over and over, giving you the stimulation that you need. 

You clamp your palm to your mouth and squeeze your eyes tight, your orgasm crashing down on you so intensely that you see white behind your lids. Your thighs are quivering and your hips are twitching against Kakashi, your pussy fluttering as you soak your husband’s face. He laps up your cum, moaning lowly at every stripe his tongue makes on your pussy, always enjoying the taste of his wife’s arousal. 

You’re spent against the table, your brain fuzzy and relaxed that you don’t even notice Kakashi getting off the floor. He puts your g-string back in place and pulls down your skirt again. Pressing his semi-hard erection against your ass, he bends over your body. You blink up at him foggily. He laughs softly. 

“You’re so cute.” Making a quick swipe over the lower half of his face with his palm in an attempt to clean himself, he drops a kiss on your cheek. Then, he teases you in a breathy murmur, making you whine at his mockery.

“Pencil skirts are made for you, Mommy.”

-

© chocochipsushi 2024 all works are mine, please do not rewrite/plagiarise

[inside-lees-mind]

hey!! do u think u could write for sasuke, shikamaru, kiba, lee, neji, gaara, and/or sai with a clingy reader who gets jealous easily? love language is acts of service and quality time but she clings onto them a lot too. (feel free to change up the characters/add or omit anyone!! thank you!!)

Naruto Characters with a Clingy/Jealous S/O

Characters: Sasuke, Shikamaru, Kiba, Shino, Rock Lee, Neji, Sai, Gaara, and Kankuro

I wanna include Kankuro somewhere so don’t mind me squeezing him in frfr. Also ofc, I gotta add Shino.

Sasuke Uchiha

He’s acting cool. He’s acting real cool. Dark and mysterious.

You’re throwing that off, but if you’ve got him wrapped around your finger, he can’t seem to bring himself to shake you off.

You’re like throwing off the dark and mysterious with your energy, so he’s gonna act indifferent, maybe even irritated.

Best believe that he clings onto you right back at home. I don’t take criticism on this take.

If you get jealous easy… good luck.

Now he’s not feeding in to these other girls minds that he could somehow care to look their way, but these girls STILL stare at him with heart eyes.

Cue him just walking away from them, telling you to come on already.

He’s not entertaining their bullshit, so you two can go where they will leave you both alone :)!

Shikamaru Nara

Complains, complains, complains again.

“What a drag” “you’re so troublesome”

He’s blushing though, don’t let him lie. It’s obvious.

He secretly finds comfort in your constant clinging. And the way you like to spend time with him. And be around him constantly. You must really like him. He’s secretly flattered.

He just can’t open up so he’s never gonna tell you that.

He’s not really the type that women are just falling at his feet, so you won’t have to worry about being jealous so much.

If a girl on a mission does get a little too close though, he WILL distance himself from her. Don’t worry.

He’ll complain if you step in for him to help get the girl away, but he’ll be grateful for the help (silently, bc out loud he’s saying he can handle it himself)

Kiba Inuzuka

I don’t know why people think Kiba is some player or fuck boy. So I want to go ahead and clarify, I don’t think he would be. I think he’s actually got nervous teen boy crushing energy, no matter his age.

He’s clinging to you too. Lmfao.

Literally you two are attached at the hip, arm, shoulder, whatever. Attached.

Akamaru is always with you two though, but who doesn’t love Akamaru?!

He gets jealous too.

You two are probably unbearable bc listen, hope for everybody’s sake you aren’t as jealous as he is.

If a man looks in your direction, he will whine for the rest of the night.

That being said, he is not accusing you of entertaining or doing anything, he’s just complaining about the guys audacity to even look in your direction.

Shino Aburame

DO NOT LET THIS MAN LIE TO YOU. He gets jealous.

Like petty kinda jealous. He’s a petty mf.

So you are not alone if you get jealous.

He’s also physically clingy behind closed doors, but ONLY behind closed doors.

He asks that you not hang off him like a koala in front of everybody, but he’ll perhaps hold your hand.

He’s clingy in a less physical way. He needs you to stay close to him most of the time, just be there. So if you like quality time, this the guy for you.

Back to jealously, this is the only reason I could ever foresee him being even a little toxic. He trusts you fully, but give a little bit too much attention to somebody and he’ll convince himself he’s like not your first choice and you forgot him like everybody else did.

So he’s more jealous than you, without a doubt in my mind.

Honestly, he takes time and effort to convince to settle down and get out of his own head.

Neji Hyuga

Not a PDA person. I think he might be willing to like hold hands. Accept a kiss on the cheek or something. But really, he wouldn’t be all TOO found of being literally clinged to.

However, he does like to have you around. So if you are just the clingy type in regards to being around them all the time, he’s okay with that.

He wants to be around you too.

He’s not the jealous type himself, and he probably won’t really notice that you’re jealous.

I don’t think he’d appreciate somebody other than you being all over him though, so you don’t have to worry much. He’ll tell a person straight up, no sugarcoating, to get away from him.

If you complain about somebody’s actions later, he’ll realize you were jealous. He’ll probably ask why if he told them off anyways. After a conversation, he’ll probably just reassure you that he will continue to tell people off.

Nobody touches him but you.

Rock Lee

HES SO MFING CLINGY

PHYSICALLY AND JUST IN GENERAL.

He talks about you all the time to everybody he can. He’s constantly telling people that you’re his partner. Bragging about you.

And since you’re clingy and he’s clingy, you’re probably right there by his side as he does this.

If for some reason, he doesn’t get a chance or remember to introduce you in some flamboyant, glamorous, extra way, and somebody tries to make a pass at him, he won’t notice they’re flirting unless it’s OBVIOUS.

So cue your jealously.

He would be the type to literally push somebody away and say some shit like “I’m flattered, but I have a gorgeous, amazing partner already.”

Sai Yamanaka

(I call him Sai Yamanaka bc it creates a bigger line for the name btw, he’s not married in this case)

He does not mind you constantly clinging to him or following him around. Not in the slightest.

That is because he likes you, so he wants to be around the person he likes, after all. (Sai, yall are dating. That’s obvious, you don’t have to say it)

He probably follows you around a lot because he thinks he’s supposed to. And also, he finds that he likes to be around you.

He might do something a book told him to, get too close to another person, paying no mind to any like reason it could be wrong. He didn’t mean it that way.

And since we’ve established you’re the jealous type, you’d have to explain to Sai that he can’t just get too close to other people like that.

Gaara of the Sand

He doesn’t mind the clinging, but he doesn’t have the time for it :/

When you can cling to him or follow him around without interfering with his focus and work, he’s perfectly okay with it.

And he’ll find himself wishing that when he’s busy, he wasn’t so you could be with him.

A lot of the girls in the village have a crush on him now that he’s kazekage, so you’re bound to be pretty jealous.

But Gaara doesn’t let these girls near him. He’s polite with them, but he’s not entertaining anything at ALL.

You don’t have to worry with him. He’s as loyal as can be.

At home, he’s clinging to you too. He’s touch starved.

And he loves to spend his free time with you.

Kankuro of the Sand

Cling to him in public like a koala. He’s not complaining. He’s BRAGGING.

PLEASE.

He’s the type to tease you about it, but if you break away from him because of it he’ll complain bc WHERE ARE YOU GOINGGG?

He would purposely make you jealous. Within reason. He will not disrespect your relationship to do so. But if he knows something simple could make you jealous, like giving too much attention to a stuffed animal, he will do it on purpose

“You wish this was you, huh?”

He’d like it if you wanted to just come sit in his workshop with him while he works on puppets. He’ll talk when he’s not like SUPER focused.

[jumexju]

SHAPE OF MY HEART

Pairing !! : Uchiha Madara / Fem Reader

Fic Type !! : Oneshot / Angst to Fluff / Hurt-Comfort

CW !! : Established relationship, Reader is a mother, Suggestive near the end but nothing 18+

Summary !! : After an argument due to Madara's inability to communicate, you try to prepare yourself for him to leave you ー only to find he's not leaving you.

Note !! : This man singlehandedly compelled me to write a 3k+ word fic, I might make this into a series tbh..

✦ MASTERLIST

‘I wish you’d try to communicate with me instead of just telling me not to worry!’ 

You winced as you recalled your words, the blanket over your frame failing to provide the comfort you needed. 

‘Not just for me, but for your children! They need you and you’re always gone — I know you’re busy but the least you could do is tell me what’s going on!’ 

The moonlight slipped in through the open door of the genkan. Madara hadn’t come home. In fact, your husband hadn’t been home for the last three nights in a row. He’s done this before — take some time for himself after an argument — but he’d usually never let you go to bed feeling anxious or worried. No, usually, Madara would force you to acknowledge his presence — even if you were mad. Sighing, you buried  your face into one of his shirts in an attempt to comfort yourself in the absence of the man you loved so much. You let another hour pass by before accepting that he wasn’t returning tonight either and choosing to try to get some sleep. 

The sun was the first to greet you when morning came. Its rays bathed everything it touched in its warmth — but it wasn’t comparable to the warmth you had grown attached to. Madara’s warmth was all you wanted, but you had to realize that he wasn’t your entire world anymore, not with your children now in the picture. You had to be strong if Madara was going to be gone for a long time — Sure, it was only four nights that he hadn’t been back home, but you’d be damned if you let his absence affect your kids in any way. “It’s not the end of the world,” you told yourself in an attempt to lift your spirits, a determined look on your face as you cleaned up the kitchen and prepared to make breakfast. 

“What isn’t?” Your eldest, Mahaira, rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he walked into the kitchen. 

You froze, turning around and smiling nervously as you put your hands up in defense, “Nothing ! I just realized that we don’t have any pork,”

Mahaira narrowed his eyes at you before yawning and greeting you with a hug, “Do you want me to go buy some later?” he offered, his voice sounding sleepy since he wasn’t really a morning person — Just one more thing he had in common with his father. 

“You’re always so helpful,” You squeezed the boy tightly, a bright smile on your face. “But no, you have some studying to do after school today. Your teacher tells me you’ve been skipping class.” You looked down at the thirteen year old, your eyebrow lifted as you saw his guilty expression. 

Mahaira frowned, “You found out?!” 

You smacked his shoulder playfully and crossed your arms with a smirk on your face, “Of course I did, I’m your mother — I find out everything, eventually.” 

Mahaira held his head down in defeat, “.. Are you going to tell dad?” He asked you, worried eyes peering up at you pleadingly. You only chuckled and ruffled his spiky black hair, out of all your kids, Mahaira was the one who resembled Madara the most. But of course, Uchiha genes were nothing to laugh at — They were strong as all hell, so it was no surprise that all your children looked like their father in one way or another.

“No — Not if you catch up on your studying, I won’t.” Mahaira’s face lit up, your heart warming at the sight of it. It was like seeing a mini Madara right in front of you. 

“Speaking of dad, where is he?” Mahaira looked around, realizing he hadn’t seen him as of late. 

You frowned, “.... He’s busy.” you looked away from your son, not wanting to face him. 

However, it seemed that he inherited his fathers sharp intuition. Mahaira’s black eyes narrowed at you before widening in realization. “He still hasn’t come home?? Jeez mom.. You should both just kiss and make up already.” Mahaira shook his head in faux disapproval, even crossing his arms to take it further. 

“Kiss and wha-!? Mahaira!” You stared at your son in surprise, heat rushing to your face. “Nevermind that, go wake up your sisters.. !” Mahaira snickered at your embarrassed expression and walked away to his sisters’ room smugly. You turned your attention back to the counter and cracked the eggs you’d brought out beforehand, whisked them in a bowl and poured them over the pan. Truthfully, you’d missed Madara. He’d always wake up before you, but he’d pretend to be asleep when you woke up just so he could feel your hands thread through his hair. Whenever you were cooking, he’d come up behind you and encase you in his arms.. Even if they were small actions, the fact that they came from him was all that mattered. 

You, like Madara, grew up in an era where you weren’t even sure you’d see your children unplagued by the stresses of war. Now, you even got to see your kids all in one piece, together. All thanks to him.. Slowly, you found your mind trying to go back to thinking about your husband — But how were you to stop it? He was your husband, the father of your children.. How could you not think about him when he was away? It was an almost impossible task. But you knew you had to go on and wait for him, like you always did. After eating omelets with your kids, you sent Mahaira off to school. His two sisters, Mizuna and Mitsumi, would have to stay with you since they were still too young to go to the academy. If they were anything like their older brother, they’d be a handful once they got older. But you didn’t mind, as long as they grew up to be fine, respectable people. 

“Mama, what are you making tonight?” Mizuna looked up at you as you held her and her twin sister by the hand while the three of you walked around the market, a bright smile on their faces. 

“Mm.. I was thinking of pork cutlet,” you looked down at the twins, Mizuna’s eyes lighting up as she thought about the savory meal while she looked at the rows of different oils and spices on display. “We just need to get the pork and some oil and we’ll be set, okay?” The twins nodded and stood near the stall while they waited for you to pay for the oil, or at least, they tried to stay near you. However, when they saw the unmistakable mane of long black hair that so obviously belonged to their father, they couldn’t stay still. 

“Papa!” The girls called out before running to their father despite the very obvious guilt shown through your expression. Madara’s eyes widened in surprise as he laid his eyes upon you — but only for a short moment before he leaned down and picked up his 6 year old child, perching Mizuna up on his shoulders. His gloved hands rubbed Mitsumi’s back in acknowledgement as she hugged him. You looked away before he could see the pained look on your face and thanked the seller before begrudgingly walking over to the man who’d been occupying your mind for the past week. Mitsumi looked up at you and raised her arms up, her way of signaling for you to pick her up. You smiled and did as she asked, securing her on your hip before facing your husband. 

“...” 

“...” 

“Papa,” Madara glanced at Mitsumi, “Mama said she was gonna make pork cutlet today!” Mitsumi smiled brightly at her father, you could tell that she had missed Madara as much as you had when you saw her face. Madara looked back at you, despite how things were between the two of you, heat still rushed up to your face when his eyes met yours. 

“Is that so?” He sounded interested, but maybe that was because he was talking to his daughter and he wanted to hide the way that things were between the two of you. You only nodded in response. 

“.. Will you be home for dinner?” you asked the Uchiha as you tried to avoid his oh so beautiful eyes by fixing a piece of Mitsumi’s hair behind her ear. 

“Mm.” Madara was observant as ever. Unfortunately for you, he saw the guilt on your face no matter how much you tried to hide it. Madara wished to extinguish such anxiety from your features, but he knew it was probably due to his absence that you even felt that way. It was his fault for disappearing, no, avoiding you for five days in a row — almost a whole week. If you had been looking at him for a bit longer, maybe you would have seen how his gaze softened when he first saw you. “Yes, .. I’ll be home for dinner.” He told you, a small smile tugging at his lips. You looked up at him and you swear you could tear up just hearing those five words. Madara felt his heart warm at the sight of your relieved expression. It took you a while to snap back to reality and register that he was actually going to be home tonight. 

“O.. Oh.” You blinked, “Okay, then.. I should get going. You’re probably busy.” You bashfully looked away, putting Mitsumi back down so you could carry her sister after Madara had taken her off his shoulders and given her to you. 

Mizuna tugged at her father’s mantle, “Papa you better not be late..!” She warned. 

“Yeah! Mama gets really sad!” Mitsumi crossed her arms and looked at her father with determination. Madara blinked, he was surprised by this admission. 

You looked down at Mitsumi, embarrassed that Mitsumi just put you in a vulnerable position, “That’s not true- I do not get sad!” You tried to salvage your self-image, but unfortunately your efforts were in vain. 

“Do too!” Mizuna chimed in, determined to help her sister prove you wrong. 

“Do not!” 

“Do too!” They both said at the same time. You could feel your face getting hotter the more Madara witnessed this exchange. But it brought him nothing short of genuine happiness. You continued trying to win the argument with your children ( and failing ) until you heard Madara chuckle at the interaction. 

“Does mama really get sad when i’m not around, Mizuna?” He petted his daughter's hair as he asked this, as if to reward her for unknowingly giving this information away.

“Yes!” 

“No!” you objected. Madara only laughed some more — It was one of the things you’d missed hearing. If only you knew how much Madara missed you too. He didn’t know why he had been so reluctant to tell you that you were right, but he knew he didn’t want it to damage his marriage. He loved you too much to leave you, he hoped you knew that. You sighed in defeat and rubbed your neck, “You two are horrible liars.” 

“Lying is bad, Mama.” Mizuna shook her head in disapproval. 

“Yeah, Mama, lying is bad.” Madara repeated, smirking at your defeat. You stared at him unamused, “You better not be late.” You warned, trying to hide a smile before holding Mizuna’s hand. You were going to pick up the bag of groceries that you’d laid at your side before the whole interaction, but Madara took your hand in his — Forcing you to look him in the eye. He came close to you and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead. 

“Don’t worry, I won’t keep you waiting anymore.” 

“Mom? You seem awfully happy…… What happened?” Mahaira asked as he tied his hair up into a low ponytail and greeted you with a hug and a kiss on your cheek. 

You lifted a brow at your son, a sly smirk on your face, “Do I need a reason to be happy?” 

“You know that’s not what I meant..” Mahaira protested at your accusation. He could sense you were in better spirits than when he last saw you this morning. However, you only ruffled his hair and snickered. “Nothing happened, Mahaira. Go wash your hands, it’s almost time for dinner.” You sent him out of the kitchen before calling your twin daughters to help you set up the table. It was as soon as Mizuna had placed the last plate that you all heard a knock on the door, your heart beat only got faster. Mahaira walked down the hall and smiled once he saw his father walk through the door. “Dad! You’re here..!” It was as if Madara was a magnet of some sort because as soon as Mahaira said this, Mizuna and Mitsumi raced to the door. You heard a hard Thump! and rushed to see what had happened, chuckling once you had seen what took place. 

It was Madara on the floor, tackled by his two twin daughters who were eagerly hugging him. “The Great Madara Uchiha brought down by his own children? Now there’s a sight I never thought I’d see.” You snickered as you looked down at your husband who was now sitting up and holding Mizuna and Mitsumi at his sides. You offered a hand to help him up but yelped once he tugged you forward, causing you to land on top of him. “Hey-! Madara, you- Mmph!” You grunted as you fell on him. 

“If I go down, you go down with me.” He snickered as he gazed down at you. Your knees were on either side of his thighs, you were currently holding onto his shoulders so that you wouldn’t completely fall on him again. He couldn’t lie, he missed you being close to him. You always radiated a warmth he didn’t know he needed. 

“Is that so?” you lifted a brow at him, a smirk on your face as you giggled when he greeted you with a kiss on your forehead. You were going to kiss him before Mahaira spoke up and interrupted, 

“Get a room, you two!” Madara and you looked at each other before laughing at your son’s reaction, deciding to save that kiss for later. You got up off of your husband and offered him a hand to help him up. He followed behind you, a subtle smile on his face as he looked down at his hand in yours, he didn’t fail to notice a chip in the nail polish you wore — He was ever the observant man. During dinner, you two avoided talking about the elephant in the room so as to not give your kids anything to worry about — But you both knew that you had to talk sooner or later. For now, you’d enjoy having your family together once again. Seeing your kids’ interactions with their father just warmed your heart even more, you weren’t sure if you could handle him leaving — If that’s what he wanted to do. Though, you doubted that line of thought since he was actually here, since.. he wouldn’t be here if he wasn’t thinking about mending things with you.. Right? You thanked Mahaira for washing his plate and ruffled his hair before sending him off to bed, the twins following suit. 

“So..” You tried to begin the conversation, but what were you supposed to say? Madara came up next to you, drying the dishes you washed and putting them in their place. He seemed calm, but when wasn’t he? You rarely ever see him lose his composure now that the Uchiha and the Senju weren’t at war anymore. You tried to find the words, but there wasn’t anything you could really say. 

“I’m sorry.” 

You blinked a couple times before you turned to your husband. He was already looking at you. “You..” you were at a loss for words. He was sorry? But what for? 

“I’m sorry I didn’t come to talk to you sooner.” He clarified. “I needed some time.. To think about what you said-” 

“You’re not leaving me?” you interrupted him. He seemed confused at what you had said. 

“Leaving you? Why would I leave you?” He crossed his arms as he looked down at you in confusion. 

“Well- I thought that you were- uhm..” You felt incredibly stupid just now. 

Madara came close to you and cupped your cheek in his calloused hand, “I wouldn’t leave you over a small fight, _____.” 

You looked away, avoiding his stare. “You were gone for a week- I thought that you were planning to leave me..” you admitted quietly. Madara was frustrated that this was what his absence had led you to believe. Yes, it was a nasty fight that the two of you got into, but after being with you for fifteen years, he thought that you would know that he wouldn’t leave you over something as small as this. Without so much as a thought, he pulled you close and wrapped his arms around you. 

“You’re my wife, and the mother of my children. Don’t you ever think that I would leave you over a petty argument such as that.” He said it as if it was a demand, but he only meant to assure you that He would be with you until the end of time. He felt your hands grip his shirt, his heart breaking when he heard your uneven breathing. You pulled away a little to wipe your eyes, but he beat you to it, a fond smile on his face as he wiped your tears away with his thumb, “You were right about what you said.. I don’t want to miss out on their childhood — I want to be there for them, and for you.” He told you softly — A tone he rarely used with anyone else but you —  as he looked you in the eye. “I’ll try to be around more, okay?” 

You nodded before sheepishly glancing away from him, “I’m sorry for having yelled at you, by the way..” 

“It’s alright, I need that.” He admitted with a small smile, “You deserve to know what’s going on, I shouldn’t have made you worry.” 

You smiled as you wrapped your arms around his neck, “I understand that you find it hard to express yourself — But know that you can rely on me, okay? ..I love you.” You smiled warmly at him, you hated that he kept things to himself, but what else could you do but support him? If he needed someone to wait for him until he was ready, you sure as hell were going to do just that. 

“I’ll try to.” He assured you before placing a piece of your hair behind your ear. 

 “I missed you a lot y’know,” you told him as the both of you walked to your room, hand in hand. 

“I missed you as well,” He said with a small smile as he followed after you. “It was a little annoying in actuality, I couldn’t go a minute without thinking about you.” 

“How romantic,” You chuckled sarcastically before getting under the sheets. They felt softer now that Madara was with you — if that was even possible. He settled underneath the sheets with you, his arm coming around your figure, making it so that your head rested against his chest. You splayed your arm across his stomach, tracing the scar on his left side as you nuzzled into him. You finally had your husband back, ..he was finally here with you. Right as soon as you were getting comfortable with the position you were in, Madara turned so that he was facing you, kissing your forehead, then your cheeks, your nose, and finally your lips. You giggled at his sudden display of affection, “Jeez, did you really miss me that much?” you teased. 

He smirked, “I missed you a lot more actually,” he said before swiftly switching your positions so now you were underneath him, his hands intertwined with yours. You could feel the heat rushing to your face as you looked up at him, his black hair draping around the sides of his face. “Really?” You lifted a brow at him, a playful smirk on your face. 

“Of course,” he leaned down and adorned your neck in butterfly kisses. Madara was a rugged man, but he knew just how to make your heart melt. He planted kisses on your jaw before facing you once more.  “Care to make up for lost time?”

[lizzy06]

Naruto Fic Recs!! (AO3)

Fandom Masterlist

Hey guys these are my favorite Naruto fics!! Hope u enjoy them too <3!!

No Paring

becoming the memory✨💖 by iinsomniatic(Time travel fix it, Jiraiya raises naruto) Out of options and about to die, Jiraiya writes a seal he’s sure isn’t going to work anyway. Then he wakes up, and damn it all, it’s October 10th. [ONGOING] From me to you: Unsent letters ✨✨by Lady_Ye(oneshot, suicide note)This made me cry so hard!! [COMPLETED]

Naruto Uzumaki x Sakura Haruno

Artistic purpose ✨by StormyInk (one shot, fluff) sai gets his new inspiration of drawing from his friends with which he also sets something off!! [COMPLETED] Just like me by bendingwing (oneshot, fluff)The beginnings of narusaku [COMPLETED] The Children of Omelas byFangirlJo (oneshot, Utopia, Dystopia, inspired by the one who walks away from omelas)She was 8 when she noticed the blonde boy in ragged clothing with bruises, sores and cuts all over him. She doesn't think the adults ever noticed him despite his bizarre looks, but she did.[COMPLETED] Date Night by TwinEnigma(oneshot Wingman sasuke, funny)In which Sasuke tries to do something nice for Naruto and Sakura's first anniversary. Hilarity ensues. [COMPLETED] Of pink and orange by FairyLetters (oneshot, reader is a spectator, fluff and angst)You watch as Sakura Haruno and Naruto Uzumaki come to an understanding that Sasuke Uchiha has left again.[COMPLETED] What now? by Kameodash(oneshot, after war)Naruto and Sakura try to cope with the trauma of the war together.[COMPLETED] Leaving You by THE_MAN42(oneshot, Love confession ,Sad ending)Naruto dies in her arms.[COMPLETED] Shinachiku and the Multiverse of...Wait There's a Multiverse?! by DuchessofChaos (time travel,falling in love) shinachiku travels to a world where his parents don't exist[ONGOING] Open Hearts by gabriella0807(post war,fluff)After the war there is a lot of work left to be done and many problems to be solved in the Shinobi world, while our heroes need to heal and move forward with their lives. [COMPLETED] Baby its you ✨by Behla(fake dating, friends to lovers, crush's wedding, single bed) Haruno Sakura finds herself in desperate need of a date for the wedding of a man she's been pining after for over eight years, in order to convince him and his bride that she's getting over him.[ONGOING]

Nara shikamaru x Ino Yamanaka

Red Ribbon by amuk(one shot,humour, friendship)They made a promise and Ino spent three years searching for Shikamaru to keep that promise. Time changes everyone, though, and Shikamaru looks cozy with his coworker, Temari. Some promises can't be kept. [COMPLETED]

In the forest 💖💖💖✨by SenkaHitomi(LadyTegan) - (post war, mission gone wrong, slow burn) shikamaru returns in catatonic state from a mission and ino must go into the labyrinth of his mind to bring shikamru back! [COMPLETED]

Its her again... ✨✨by atmymercy (Highschool au, pinning) Ino gets jealous of the girl who sits beside shika on his train and this leads to a whirlwind confrontation of her feelings..[COMPLETED]

Uchiha sasuke x sakura Haruno

Before the storm ✨by crissy_writes_garbage(Time travel to past, pregnant sakura)Sakura is pregnant and lost, a combination that leads to more trouble than necessary. Specially when you're lost in the past. [COMPLETED]

Gaara x Sakura Haruno

words that tie, ties that bind by Binxxx(soulmates, angst,SHUKAKU THE THERAPIST)During the chaos of the Chunin Exams, Sakura discovers who her soulmate is. [ONGOING] The four heavenly treasures by IRinna(arranged marriage, politics, friends-to-lovers)Princess Sakura of the Land of Fire is offered in a political alliance to the Land of Wind to help survive the incoming war. There she meets Gaara, leader of Wind and one of the champions of the Four Heavenly Treasures. [COMPLETED]

Uchiha Madara x Sakura Haruno

The Black bull by Vesperchan (oneshot, beauty and the beast elements)Based on the classic Scottish fairytale The Black Bull of Norroway.[COMPLETED]

Itachi Uchia(xf!reader)

Ikigai ✨by MissWriter97(arranged marriage, senju reader, alternate au) Uchiha Itachi gets married to the women he does not love to prevent the massacre! This is a lovely fic...[ONGOING]

Senju Tobirama(xf!reader)

A Step in Time by MizzGinger (senju tobirama x Princess! reader ,arrange marriage, time travel, second chances) This is and alternate au story with a lot of war time drama going on!! It has a brilliant set up!![ONGOING]

The Home I crave✨✨ by cafeinthemoon93( arranged marriage, angst, slowburn, enemies-to-friends-to-lovers )I really loved this fics, the detailing and pacing were chef's kiss!![HIATUS]

Some other pairing stories

Iruka x reader

Growing along the line✨✨💖 by FreakyPseudWriter(fake dating, strangers-to-friends-to-lovers, fluff)After a really bad day at your workplace you meet Umino Iruka, who quickly makes you open up to him. But you certainly didn't expect him to suddenly claim you two were romantically involved! [COMPLETED]

Sasori x Sakura Haruno

Bait and Hitch✨✨ by Aelynthi (fake dating, coworkers, crush's wedding)When Haruno Sakura finds out Sasuke is engaged, she does the only thing she knows to do in order to save her pride—she lies.[ONGOING]

[slutfics]

ᥫ᭡. BOYFRIEND KANKURO .ᐟ

warnings & content. adult content. afab reader, no pronouns included(?). very small nsfw but not too much. established relationships, fluff.

writers note. im having a kankuro brainrot, im gaining ideas every time and it’s controlling, the tags are going to be filled with my content and shit (probably). but if you do end up writing for kankuro and perhaps obito, please tag me, im literally being deprived of them.

boyfriend kankuro who’s love language is making fun of his significant other for the hell of it. you would need to have a tough heart to be his partner, because he needs to have those kind of moments with them. yes they are light and he knows his limits, doesn’t make fun of you of your past and traumas, those are one of the few things he doesn’t joke about. insults are his petnames, however he does use ‘babe’ for you.

boyfriend kankuro who gets jealous easily when someone else is talking to you, he will pull the ‘i don’t know, why don’t you go ask your other lover.’ move on you, he will give you the silent treatment for awhile before he’s all up on you, wanting to cuddle and kiss you. he has issues and is afraid of you leaving him for someone else, he needs a lot of reassuring. he loves and trust you, it’s just the other one who he doesn’t trust.

boyfriend kankuro who loves getting kisses before he leaves for work, he loves getting them in morning, before bed and during work hours. he loves having your soft lips on his own whenever he gets the chance. however, this is mostly away from others, he will only kiss you when the two of you are alone. he’s not a big fan of pda he prefers to keep his affection hidden from others, but he will hold your hand in public and give you welcoming kisses and that’s about it.

boyfriend kankuro who can’t resist the urge to slap your ass whenever he walks past you or you laying in bed, comfortably, only for his heavy hand to smack down on your poor ass. kankuro isn’t an ass man by all means, he just thinks it’s funny to startle you and hearing a small yelp coming from you. do it to him and there will be consequences for your actions. he has a nice ass actually, nice and full, it’s all the working out he does, just give it a hard squeeze and it’s over for you. he honestly thinks a bit funny, just don’t do it too much.

boyfriend kankuro who loves having his hair played with while he lays on your chest after a particular long day of ninja work. he won’t admit it to you, you’ll just have to figure that information out on your own. he’ll sigh loudly and have his head on your shoulder or simply lay on your chest and look up at you in hopes you get the silent message, he’ll also groan loudly until you look at him, that’s when you’ll know what he wants. he looks at you almost silently begging you to run your fingers through his spiky hair. he loves those feelings you give him and he will quickly fall asleep.

boyfriend kankuro who likes to finger you during a mission together inside your tent as everyone else is soundly asleep, with a few ninjas at watch. he will whisper into your ear, while watching you try to hold in your cries as he magically moves his fingers wonderfully inside you, rubbing your walls and curling against that one spot that has you throwing your head back and biting down on your lower lip harshly. he’ll hold down your hips with his other hand if you tried to grind against him. he’s doesn’t want you finishing just yet.

boyfriend kankuro who loves to eat you out after a stressful day at the kazekage office or mission. he will have your legs over his broad shoulders, keeping you spread open for him so he can stuff his fingers inside of your soaking core while his wet lips are latched around your clit. kankuro is a strong man, all he simply needs is a single arm on your abdomen to keep you from moving against him. he’ll stare up at you with a hazy gaze while flicking his tongue against your sensitive nub. he loves how your stomach tenses and how your walls squeezing his fingers. he can have his face between your thighs all night.

boyfriend kankuro who loves when you request a blowjob, especially after he’s done with his puppet building or after training. he loves the feeling of your pretty mouth wrapped around his pulsing cock. he’s clarified a head pusher when he’s close to cumming. he’s also a grower not a show-er. grunts and moans will leave him as he has a tight grip on your hair, rutting into your warm mouth, feeling the wonderful tension of your throat squeezing him, he also loves the way your eyes water when you try to take him deeper down your throat and surpass the gag.

boyfriend kankuro who loves to dirty you with his face paint. your skin will be covered with purple smudges of paint, between your thighs, your neck, your shoulders, any part of your body that he’s capable of reaching, his paint will no longer be neat, but smudge and messy. it really turns him on seeing you such a mess, especially when your panting and sweaty, he can’t help but wanting to go for another round with you. he thinks you’re the prettiest when you’re covered with something of his.

boyfriend kankuro who loves doing ‘corny romantic’ things with you, whether it’ll be cooking, baking, even going as far as talking about the future with you, he adores these soft moments, it makes him feel warm and fuzzy. he could spend the rest of his life with you and he genuinely sees a bright future with you and he hopes he can have that. he will actually lose his mind if the relationship ever ends. you don’t ever have to worry about his loyalty to you, he solely belongs to you and you to him.

© SLUTFICS. . . please do not repost, steal, copy or publish my works on other platforms, however reblogging and ♡ are greatly appreciated.

[obito-in-disguise]

| Arranged marriage! Itachi x reader |

-Itachi's secret is out.

Part 3 to this

“tachi! tachi!” ever since she informed him of her boss’s atrocious actions, Itachi had spaced out in anger. His mind was running a million miles an hour thinking of all the horrible things he was going to do to that boss of hers for laying a finger on his wife. “Itachi!” his eyes snap back to hers, he didn’t realize he had zoned out. He takes in a deep breath grasping her shoulders and pulling her closer, “He did what?” “He touched me…here” her hand reaches up to the collar of her button up shirt, pulling the fabric aside to show her cleavage. What he saw made Itachi’s face flush with white hot anger, a large bruise in the hazy shape of a man’s handprint marked her right breast. “He groped my chest so I hit him but it hurt my hand and then...” Itachi had stopped listening at this point, his rage deafening him.

He jumps to feet without sparing another minute, grabbing his cloak and storming towards the door. His destination? Her office. His mission? To teach the head of the intelligence department a lesson on respecting women. She didn’t need to be told, Y/N knew exactly what Itachi was going to do and as much as she would love to see Itachi pummel the sleeze that touched her, there were things at stake. “Itachi please don’t! I’ll lose my job!” she chases after him frantically as he crosses the distance to the front door in long strides. “Stay here” the look on his face is murderous, it doesn’t leave any room for argument.

She sits on the step of the foyer in resignation and panic, she was totally going to lose her job which contrary to popular opinion, she didn’t get through her connections to her grandfather but through her hard work. She already socked her boss in the face this afternoon and now, her husband was on his way to fold him in half as well. Great just great. She had clawed her way to her current position at work, it took years of enduring slander and proving herself to reach the level she has now. She knew the man had harassed her, and that there was no reason for her to want to keep it on the low. But, the sad reality is that things rarely go well for victims of work place harassment when they speak out against their aggressor.

The entire room was in chaos, papers were strewn around, furniture scattered and the workers of the intelligence department left in shock as they watched the famed Uchiha Itachi of the anbu walk into their office calmly, and dislocate their boss’ jaw with a punch that sent the intoxicated man halfway across the room. A collection of gasps and screams could be heard as his body crashes through furniture and eventually skidds to a stop. Itachi simply steps over the furniture and objects in his path before heading towards his target again.

By this time, the remaining workers left in the office are yelling for Itachi to stop while others leave to get help. Itachi pays none of them mind as he gracefully lifts the man up from the ground up by his throat “What kind of animal would grope a woman so hard it leaves a bruise?” his voice is eerily calm and menacing, Itachi wants him to feel shame for his actions. The room is dead quiet now, Itachi glances around and notes the looks of unease on some of the women’s faces. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that this boss of theirs was a serial harasser, but unfortunately for him, he crossed the wrong woman and her husband today.

Itachi recognizes the man, Sei Fujioka, the newly appointed head of konoha’s intelligence agency. He had met him several times during missions, he seemed like any other regular person, Itachi would’ve never guessed the despicable things he was doing to women in his workplace. “Most of these women standing here today are the backbone of this disgraceful agency. They strive and suffer, putting in more effort than you could ever muster but yet you bury their efforts and blame their success on nepotism and privilege” Fujioka gapes at Itachi not knowing what to say, the pressure on his neck is almost unbearable and he has to support his weight by occasionally kicking his feet, his cheek stings both from Y/N’s hit earlier and Itachi’s this evening, but nothing compares to the sting of shame he feels.

He knows Itachi’s words are the truth, he found pleasure in keeping the women in the agency under his feet and harassing them because he knew they couldn’t speak out easily but, he certainly wasn’t going to be convicted to change his ways because Uchiha Itachi gave him a speech. However, being pummeled and called out like this in front of all the people he dehumanized over the years definitely achieved Itachi’s goal of making him feel the same humiliation he repeatedly subjected his victims to.

The leaf’s police arrive soon after and take down the details of what happened, with the help of a respected member of the anbu like itachi’s confrontation and testimony, the women were finally able to come out and testify against Fujioka for his crimes against them. That evening Sei Fujioka was led away from the building in handcuffs to jail, where he would await his trial for multiple counts of sexual harassment and sexual misconduct in the workplace.

It had been at least two hours since Itachi left and Y/N was worried sick. At one point, she considered going down there herself but the thought of seeing her boss’ face again so soon after what he did to her made her sick, so here she was waiting for Itachi to return. She was no longer worried about losing her job, what good was staying at a job that put your physical and mental state in jeopardy, now she was more concerned about her husband’s safety. Itachi was more than capable of handling himself but still, she couldn’t help but be worried. She must have been deep in thought because she didn’t notice Itachi had come in till he was standing in front of her, he smiles at her lack of awareness before reaching out a hand to gently shake her out of her thoughts. Her heart drops in fear as she realizes Itachi has been here for a while now, she chuckles clutching her heart as she calms down from the fright. Itachi wastes no time in recounting the events that happened upon his arrival at the office.

Tears gather in her eyes as she watches him speak. If she wasn’t sure she loved him, she was sure now. This man in front of her singlehandedly went to her office in the middle of the night, beat the crap out of her boss for touching her, and put an end to the years of systemic harassment her and her coworkers faced all in one night. She tackles him into a hug, causing him to stumble as he quickly recovers, hugging her back with just as much vigor. “I love you tachi”

Itachi’s eyes widen as he feels his heart drop into his stomach, he got so carried away with their little love story he completely forgot the implications of his health on their relationship. Please don’t love me, it’ll only hurt worse when I have to leave. Itachi sighs pulling her face out of his chest “I’m sorry about earlier Y/N, when I first met you, I too accused you of nepotism, if I had known what was going on in your workplace I wouldn’t-“ “Its ok Itachi, trust me you’re nothing like that asshole” she hugs him once again but as soon as she does, her smile drops. Only a fool would miss how he didn’t say I love you back, she decides to drop it for tonight, maybe he didn’t hear her but If she told him she loves him again and he didn’t respond then she would definitely probe further.

“ow-owwwww it hurts!” “Of course it hurts, you hurt you pretty hand because of that disgrace of a man, you should’ve left the hitting to me” Itachi comments as he cleans up her busted knuckles on the bathroom counter. “He deserved it” “of course he did but you got even more hurt in the process, come straight to me next time ok flower?” Itachi finishes up with the cleaning and swiftly wraps the hand in a bandage, placing a small kiss on it to ‘seal his love’ he would always say. He leaves her on the counter before disappearing into the room to retrieve one of his shirts for her to change into. He returns a few minutes later and hands her the shirt.

For one reason or the other, they hadn’t done the dirty yet so she definitely felt shy changing in front of him. Usually she would ask him to turn around but today she was far too exhausted, so she let her hands start to undo the button up. She glances at Itachi to see if he would look away but he stares intensely instead. She chuckles too tired to feel shy as she throws the button up off her shoulders leaving her bare before him. Itachi’s demeanor darkens as the bruise Fujioka left on her chest comes into view again.

He can feel his anger coming back but suppresses it for her sake, she must be extremely tired. His hand reaches to cup the boob where the bruise was located, gently caressing the bruised skin. His inspection goes on for minutes and she squirms under his attention feeling exposed, Itachi notices her squirming but his need to make sure she’s ok greatly outweighs her shyness. He sighs as he finally pulls his hand away “we’ll get some ointment for this tomorrow ok?” he reaches for the shirt he brought to pull over her head when he suddenly grabs his chest. He cries out in pain as he vision blurs, he can feel the familiar tightening of his respiratory tract followed by the inevitable spew of blood from his inflamed blood vessels. Y/N watches in horror as Itachi collapses to the ground holding his mouth, blood spilling from through his fingers.

“Itachi!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Pt 4 out nowww

The long awaited part three ya'll, even though it's just been 3 days. Sei Fujioka may or may not represent a man I used to work for but this chapter is dedicated to all the women who have faced harassment in our workplaces just by virtue of being a woman, you are not alone♡♡

Also, the next chapter will be the last, will it have a happy ending? Will it have a heart stabbingly sad ending? Stay tuned to find out!!!

Enjoyed the story? check out more of my other Naruto fics and more stories! Requests are open! and don't forget to leave a like, comment or reblog pookie♡