#it's nice to picture him thinking about real things. they show it on the show sometimes but not too much. not as much as the practice even

[see-arcane]

"I have been thinking, and have made up my mind as to what is best. If I did simply follow my inclining I would do now, at this moment, what is to be done; but there are other things to follow, and things that are thousand times more difficult in that them we do not know. This is simple. She have yet no life taken, though that is of time; and to act now would be to take danger from her for ever. But then we may have to want Arthur, and how shall we tell him of this? [...] he may think that in some more mistaken idea this woman was buried alive; and that in most mistake of all we have killed her. He will then argue back that it is we, mistaken ones, that have killed her by our ideas; and so he will be much unhappy always. Yet he never can be sure; and that is the worst of all. And he will sometimes think that she he loved was buried alive, and that will paint his dreams with horrors [...] He, poor fellow, must have one hour that will make the very face of heaven grow black to him; then we can act for good all round and send him peace.

Thinking about all of this in the context of Van Helsing recollecting and planning ahead at once.

He is thinking about what he saw with Jonathan here. He also is thinking about Dracula and his very wide and still unaddressed threat.

Jonathan was a proven wreck because he was left uncertain of his own senses, never knowing for sure whether the horrors he experienced were real or not until outside evidence confirmed it. Simply knowing that the nightmare was real restored his sanity, his clarity, his strength...and his will to aid Van Helsing in targeting the Count and his schemes.

Cut to this scene. Van Helsing does have good intentions here, and they are sensible. Arthur needs to know what's become of Lucy before they take any slaying action. He needs to know for his own sanity's sake--No, we did not accidentally "The Fall of the House of Usher" her, she was not buried alive, she's a vampire, see?--for closure's sake, and for practicality's sake. Emphasis on practicality.

"But then we may have to want Arthur, and how shall we tell him of this?"

Dr. Abe is already mentally blasting Victorian Avengers music in his head. He knows that numbers (and maybe a handy bit of bankrolling) are going to be necessary against a Vampire who's not just ambling around chomping kids, but actively planning some wider takeover of the country, possibly preceding a steady consumption of humanity itself. One professor, an asylum superintendent, a solicitor and a typist are a good start! But a moneyed and vengeful lord, give or take a spare badass cowboy, would also be nice to have on board. The reason he holds off on putting down the Bloofer Lady here is smart.

...while camping out on the following night completely alone in her territory to keep watch is less so. But also in character. And, I very, very, very grudgingly admit this, indicative of just how and why he will behave/lead the way he does in future dates once Mina and Jonathan come into the picture in Purfleet. Whenever it is feasible, Abraham van Helsing puts himself on the line first with the stalwart youths at his back in decreasing levels of 'I worry for your safety!'

Ironically, for the guy showing the most forethought and sense at the time, he's going to be the impetus for the most senseless part of the team's whole plan--and it'll be the exact same MO that should have stuck after learning from Lucy and Jonathan's cases.

[jimmyspades]

[s4pphoiduser]

microdosing coming out by macrodosing "ooo i wanna look Just Like Him. HIM. HE HIM HIM HIM. JUST LIKE HIM." like oh look at the broad shoulders and wide, flat chest. oh, oh, so interesting, isn't it? wouldn't it be fun if i were a guy? imagine That!

[reidrum]

the many names | s.r

a/n: i could not get the idea that spencer would have little explanations for all the names he has for you so i give you this enjoy

summary: in which the many names that spencer calls you each have a special meaning

cw: mind rotting fluff

wc: 1.1k

honey:

spencer’s childhood was anything but ordinary. graduating high school at 12, with a schizophrenic mother, and an absentee father is a combo meant to mess anyone up. the one thing he felt was constant were the sitcoms his mother would watch when she had her good days. shows like i love lucy and cheers filled his ears as he watched the picture perfect families navigate through mundane and seemingly normal scenarios. the comfort he found in these televised families, something he wasn’t afforded in his own, was a nice little bandaid on the gaping hole left by the oddities of his life.

until he met you, of course. you changed everything for him, showed him what it meant to be loved and cherished, what family really was outside of the textbook definition. as a young boy he’d always envied ricky ricardo coming home to lucy at the end of every work day, bursting through the door and saying “honey, i’m home!” the phrase itself encompassed what he so dearly longed for; a home.

so when spencer calls you honey, he means it because you’re sweet and sappy and all the things normally associated with honey. but for him, specifically, when he gets to come back from harsh cases, bursting through the door of your shared apartment yelling “honey, i’m home!”, it heals that gaping hole from his childhood little by little, replacing the wound with the home you’ve built together.

sweetheart:

for someone who absolutely loves sweet things, calling you sweetheart was an obvious title in his book. the way you cared so deeply for the people in your life, the people you didn’t know, even those involved in heinous crimes were offered some of your never ending empathy. it inspired him, to know that someone who sees the true horrors of humankind on the daily can still hold hope and love for the world’s inhabitants.

when spencer calls you sweetheart, it’s in the more domestic moments of your lives. when he asks which tea you want, when he can tell it’s been a rough day and he lets you rest in the comfort of his arms saying “it’s okay, sweetheart. i’m here now.”, when he leaves you long and loving voicemails for when you’re not able to go on cases together. spencer’s sweet tooth could probably never be satiated, but if it keeps you around forever he has no problem with that.

angel:

calling you angel is still something he finds a little ironic. he’s an agnostic atheist, has no faith in the gods or whatever power that may be. he’d always say if you couldn’t find it in a textbook then it’s not a real thing. but here you were, defying literally everything he ever knew or thought he knew. spencer thinks that if angels were personified they would surely look like you.

his job has so many moments that put him in near death situations, he’s not proud of how many times he’s felt the pearly gates come for him. but every time he was close to that end, flashes of you would roll through his mind like a movie reel and it would tether him back to this realm.

add to that, you just always happened to be there when he needed you. if he was about to drop a cup of coffee you’d be there grab it, you had his back when you were on the field together, and you’d let him talk your ear off about the most obscure topic just to see him smile.

if proof existed for the theoretical, it would be you. you were his guardian angel, and he never let you forget it.

princess:

this one was rare, only invoked in the super intimate and special moments between you both. usually in the bedroom is where you hear this one used in both sides of the extreme. on one side he says it when you’re being just so needy, so pliant and willing for whatever he wants it just makes him want to give you everything in return. on the other side, when you’re being for lack of a better word, a brat, it’s used as a tease, a taunt for your slutty bad behavior. a reminder that even though you’re spoiled by him he’s still going to give you the world.

it’s also used when you both get dressed up, for an fbi event or a party at rossi’s. it always takes the wind out of him when he sees you getting ready or you come out to show your outfit to him. it makes him feel like falling in love with you again every time, like he’s been so blessed to live a fairytale where he prevails and gets the princess at the end.

baby:

calling you baby is quite literally second nature to spencer, probably the easiest thing for him to do. it slips out all the time people might think baby is your real name. he uses it when he asks what you want for dinner, when you’re upset over something he did at work that put him in danger, when he just really wants you to watch this one russian romance film he finally got his hands on and promises you’ll love it.

you also find it really funny to play songs that you know he doesn’t know that have the word baby in it, because even if he doesn’t know the words to always be my baby to mariah carey, it never stops him from giving you the biggest smile in the universe when he listens to you belt the song to him.

pretty girl:

he didn’t even come up with this one, derek did. stemming from his nickname for spencer, when derek realized that there was something between you and pretty boy, it just became so easy to get under his skin and call you pretty girl, telling him “don’t look now, your pretty girl is coming.”. before you had started dating and spencer was just pining from afar, he would get so red in the face when derek would let the name slip.

after he finally grew some balls and asked you out, spencer adopted the name for himself to use in situations he had you alone, where he could admire you in your entirety and no other prying eyes. to use when you just wake up and the sunlight hits you perfectly like a glowing halo, or when you’re both in the office and you’re explaining something relevant to the case and you just sound so smart and beautiful, and he can’t help but truly believe that the aphrodite reincarnate is his.

[fastandcarlos]

The Littlest Surprise » Daniel Ricciardo

caption: hello im a new f1 content creator and would love some feedback if you enjoy my fics tysm 🩷

summary: you’ve not been seen at the paddock for a while and the fans are getting worried, little do they know the reason for your absence is about to make everyone’s dreams come true

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by schecoperez, georgerussell63 and 842,420 others

danielricciardo: always a pleasure to have the fam on my side, excited to show the little ones what uncle danny gets up to 🥺

49,302 comments

username1: is this yet another race y/n won’t be at this weekend??

username2: I cannot wait for the day that this man becomes a dad

username3: if y/n doesn’t hurry up and make him a dad…daniel i’m happy to offer my services 😊

maxverstappen1: how big is y/n/n now! she looks so grown up 🥺

danielricciardo: @/maxverstappen1 she’ll be 6 soon, where does the time go??

oscarpiastri: don’t forget your little adopted aussie nephew

landonorris: and your british nephew too!!

danielricciardo: @/oscarpiastri @/landonorris hey! i might be a bit older but not old enough to be your uncle thank you

username4: anyone else think something might be going on, daniel posting about his family without y/n there is strange

username5: @/username4 let’s not overthink this too much, y/n might just be busy

username4: @/username5 it’s been ages since we last saw her, you gotta admit it’s a bit sus

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by lewishamilton, alex_albon and 629,301 others

danielricciardo: another great weekend of racing, nice feeling to be back on the podium…man how I missed hearing that champagne pop 🏎️

38,402 comments

charles_leclerc: congrats brother, nice to be up there with you once again

username6: y/n not distracting you anymore to stop you getting on the podium??

username7: @/username6 wtf? why would you suggest such a thing?

carlossainz55: always knew you’d be back up there one day, long may it continue!

yukitsunoda0511: you gotta give me some tips bro, those manoeuvres were lethal today 🔥

pierregasly: danny ric just doing danny ric things

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by ynusername, charles_leclerc and 922,547 others

danielricciardo: hey team! just wanted to clear up some things after miami this weekend…me and y/n are absolutely fine, had some things going on that I promise we’ll explain soon ❤️❤️ for now tho, here’s an update on life recently ☁️✨

92,174 comments

ynusername: 🥺🥺🥺🥺

username8: I knew you guys would be okay, take as long as you need my two favourites!!

username9: a big screw you to those who doubted you…real fans love you guys

landonorris: I love you guys, here if you need anything brother ❤️

username10: hope whatever is going on clears up soon, we’re missing you guys around here🩷

lilymhe: tell y/n to gimme a call! ily guys ✨

visacashapprb: can’t wait to welcome y/n back into the paddock soon - see you for race week!

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by danielricciardo, iamrebeccad and 310,409 others

ynusername: it’s been a long few months, but we finally feel ready to share with you our happy news. pregnancy has been tough, I’d love to say it has treated me well, but it hasn’t. I cannot thank daniel enough for being by my side and helping me out whenever I’ve needed him…baby spam incoming ⛅️🍼

ps. each of us chose a picture to share, guess who chose what 🙄

28,461 comments

danielricciardo: words cannot begin to describe how proud I am of how brave you’ve been, the worst of it is over now my love, the countdown to baby ricciardo starts now

danielricciardo: ps my photo is way cooler than yours is

landonorris: omg I can’t believe you guys didn’t tell me, uncle Lando reporting for duty!

carlossainz55: the biggest congratulations you two, you’re going to be the best parents

carmenmmundt: so glad to hear y/n is doing better, may the rest of your pregnancy be a dream ✨

lilymhe: the strongest girl I know - so excited to see you become a mum 😍

username11: all my manifesting has paid off, baby ricciardo will be the luckiest

oscarpiastri: AUSSIE AUSSIE AUSSIE!!

estebanocon: my spidey senses were spot on, I knew a baby was on the way!

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by danielricciardo, lance_stroll and 102,585 others

ynusername: life lately 💫 exhausted but loving all the little things (including daniel 😂)

17,492 comments

username12: y/n looks like she’s living the dream, mum life suits her well 🥺

danielricciardo: im definitely not a “little thing” how else did we end up like this?

landonorris: @/danielricciardo excuse me sir you are about to have a child, sort your humour out

maxverstappen1: glad to see you’re feeling more like yourself again y/n, brunch on me soon!

ynusername: @/maxverstappen1 yes - let’s not tell daniel #gatecrasher

danielricciardo: @/ynusername you know your comments are public…right?

username13: anyone else wishing they could brunch with y/n too??

lance_stroll: sending all the good book recs your way!

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri and 738,603 others

danielricciardo: babymooning 🍼 the smile says it all, so happy to have my girl back on her feet and feeling like herself again…making the last few memories just the two of us 🥺

83,500 comments

ynusername: thank you for the best couple of days and being my personal taxi driver

username14: look at his face - you can tell daniel is buzzing to be a dad

pierregasly: where was my invite?? I thought we were friends

carlossainz55: and mine!

georgerussell63: me too!

landonorris: looks like we were all forgotten!

visacashapprb: enjoy the break daniel! you and y/n absolutely deserve it 🏁🩷

username15: i speak for all your fans when i say keep the holiday photos coming pls

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by ynusername, georgerussell63 and 920,355 others

danielricciardo: mum and dad 🔥🥺

tagged: ynusername

58,429 comments

landonorris: adopt me pls, im less problematic than a baby

danielricciardo: @/landonorris debatable

lewishamilton: so glad to see you both so happy, good luck with everything

charles_leclerc: wow!! y/n looks insane (suppose you look alright too daniel!)

ynusername: mum and dad?? i can definitely get used to hearing that 🤩

alex_albon: it’s not fair how adorable you two are, this kid is hella lucky!!

username16: pls keep the baby spam coming, you guys are the sweetest 🍼💫

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by lilymhe, yukitsunoda0511 and 109,446 others

ynusername: the many faces of a man who has just remembered he’s just signed up for no sleep for the next 10 years 😂

tagged: danielricciardo

23,201 comments

danielricciardo: after all I’ve done for you, this is how you repay me? you just wait my love 🫢

ynusername: @/danielricciardo this was too good of an opportunity to miss

carlossainz55: make the most of that middle photo whilst you can danny

georgerussell63: you have NO idea how much I just laughed at this y/n 😂😂😂

schecoperez: speaking from experience, you could not be more correct y/n #dannynosleep

username17: embarrassing dad before even becoming a dad 😬

oscarpiastri: call me for anymore embarrassing daniel pics 😂

danielricciardo: @/oscarpiastri no one asked for you to show up here

username18: I just want you to be my mum and dad instead 😭

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by oscarpiastri, carmenmmundt and 113,999 others

ynusername: can you believe this man is really about to become a father?? 🤦🏻‍♀️

32,694 comments

charles_leclerc: sometimes i really do wonder what you see in him y/n

landonorris: the biggest clown known to man, still the world’s biggest kid 😂😂

danielricciardo: is that really how you want to talk about the father of your child? I thought you were supposed to love me

ynusername: @/danielricciardo i do, ily very much 🥰

username17: not y/n releasing all the humiliating photos of daniel now they’re about to be parents

username18: y/n’s clearing the phone album for baby spam and giving us daniel spam in return

logansargeant: more to the point, this is the guy you chose as the father of your child??

lilymhe: the two of you are perfect for each other y/n ❤️

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by ynusername, oscarpiastri and 1,403,407 others

danielricciardo: welcome to the world baby ricciardo 💕

after a lot of hardships and tricky times, y/n and i are beyond excited to share with you that our little one is here. everyone is safe, loved and doing well, my heart has never felt so full 🥺

tagged: ynusername

 ˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[xhopelesslyromanticx]

I love a man in shorts - Oscar Piastri x Wolff!Reader

Masterlist

summary: when people start to notice Oscar only owns one outfit they start calling him out for being a dad and you can’t help but see it too.

f1updates

Austin, Texas

liked by y/n.wolff and 35‘567 others

f1updates Oscar has arrived in Austin Texas this morning. He was all smiles and giggles greeting the local Papaya fans.

view all comments

f1stansss I‘m convinced this man doesn’t own long pants

user355 right? he needs a stylist

f1god he is a simple man

piastriii Y/n is there toooo

user355 she should try to get him dressed better

f2starter the guy owns two outfits; mclaren gear and shorts and shirt

user37 right he gives off sich dad vibes

landonorris @y/n.wolff this is your man?

y/n.wolff @oscarpiastri you’re being attacked broooo

oscarpiastri shut up Lando

y/n.wolff

Austin

liked by lewishamilton and 456‘789 others

y/n.wolff dads :)

view all comments

lewishamilton ?

y/n.wolff the girls that get it, get it.

user345 hahaha not her confusing sir lewis hamilton

user221 the way lewis is sitting has me dead

oscarpiastri aha, getting the reference ;)

f1troll shorts and shirt king

f1lover oscar has me dead, he is truly such a dad

georgerussell63 lewis is looking horrid in those pants

lewishamilton you didn’t even make the slide show shut up

mclaren Oscar is truly dad material

landonorris more like daddy

y/n.wolff LANDO!

toto.wolff ??

landonorris

Austin

liked by pierregasly and 1‘257‘890 others

landonorris @mclaren, next time Oscar gets to bring his child I‘d like a warning

view all comments

mclaren loud and clear Lando

oscarpiastri wow, what a great picture really did me well

y/n.wolff i love it, especially the cup, thanks lan :)

oscarpiastri don‘t

user457 uhh daddy coming through

pierregasly was it bring your child to work day?

charles_leclerc someone tell Carlos he can finally bring his

y/n.wolff gasp

f1troll so the RUMOURS are true?

y/n.wolff

liked by toto.wolff and 345‘789 others

y/n.wolff texas had my heart, let‘s go halloween and mexicooo, thanks for the sippy cup lan :)

view all comments

landonorris stunning (the last picture)

toto.wolff the first picture is not very nice

lewishamilton don’t embarass her

y/n.wolff daaaaad

kellypiquet you look absolutely stunning

user456 y/n‘s so cute, oscar really won

f1update fav wag

user676 wag and dad

charlottesine miss you lots :(

y/n.wolff miss you too, see you soon though :)

mclaren

Mexico

liked by f1 and 2‘789‘890 others

mclaren dad off grid, daddy on grid

view all comments

y/n.wolff dead

mercedesamgf1 totos throwing his headphones again

user233 the second photo damn

f1troll hot right

f1 the famous stance though

piastrilovers my poor oscar is getting so much hate :(

landonorris nah he loves the attention

oscarpiastri thin ice lando

f1gossip

Mexico

liked by user566 and 68‘890 others

f1gossip Lewis when asked about his newly earned „dad“ title by teamboss daughter Y/n

„I personally don’t really get it. But people think it’s fun right. But I love Y/n, she’s a treat to have around.“

view all comments

user566 awww he‘s like a big brother

f1troll lewis and y/n are the real father daughter duo

f1fans crazy to think Lewis has watched her grow up

user456 yes he‘s always loved her so much

landonorris Oscars probably throwing his phone hehe

piastrifans ariana? what are you doing here?

user455 Lando is just as involved in gossip as we are

landonorris

Checos hometown

liked by charles_leclerc and 907‘799 others

landonorris mexico con papa 🍼 (y mama)

comments are disabled

oscarpiastri

Texas

liked by georgerussell63 and 1‘167‘890 others

oscarpiastri the only thing that makes me a dad is my „ipad kid“ girlfriend

view all comments

user345 wait this makes actual sense hahah

y/n.wolff wow horrid pictures

oscarpiastri you look as lovely as always

f1troll 1:1 Oscar

y/nstans she is truly an ipad kid

landonorris good one osc

y/n.wolff shut up Lando

mercedesamgf1 googles what an Ipad kid means

user355 the best couple on the grid

georgerussell63 couple of children right

lewishamilton y/n and a cow? she‘s scared of them?

y/n.wolff

Mexico

liked by mclaren and 678‘908 others

y/n.wolff mexico was a treat, i love you @oscarpiastri

view all comments

lewishamilton awww the first one

oscarpiastri move about two steps two the right and you‘re right where you belong

georgerussell63 you built the LEGO WITHOUT ME?

mercedesamgf1 its mclaren George?

user455 its mclaren georgie

toto.wolff too much orange but you look beautiful

mclaren parents

landonorris what a viewwwww damn

y/n.wolff talking bout yourself again huhhh?

[darlingbabyboo]

The Fluffy Life of Dating a Delinquent

Tokyo revengers boys and the little things they do (that I want because I'm lonely lol)

Warning: extreme fluff, just Tokrev characters being in love with you

Mikey is the type to buy snacks for you, no matter what. It doesn't matter what time of day it is, he's got some food for you too. He's calling you at 3am in the morning and telling you that he got you some chips, can he come over. He thinks sharing food is the best way to share love and well, he's right ❤

Izana will know everything about you. Your favourite colour, your favourite places to go, what you like to watch. Honey, he got you. You're his assignment and he's passing with an A+. He's the best person when you're sad because he knows exactly what to do. He can cheer you up in five minutes, tops.

Draken is so protective of you 😭. He knows he's well-liked and he's got an entire brothel, might as well take advantage of it. He wants to take care of you, and he knows you need boundaries and space sometimes but he lives a bit of a dangerous life, he needs to make sure you're taken care of. If someone actually got a scratch on your head he's killing them. No questions asked.

Hakkai didn't come from the best family. After the death of his mother, everything kinda fell apart. That's why he wants to start new traditions with you. Getting take out every Friday, matching accessories, whatever it is. He considers you family and he can't wait until you two pass down these traditions to your children.

Baji names cats after things related to you! Your favourite things to eat, do, whatever! Anything that's remotely related to you, that's the new name of the cat! Has given cats pet names that he usually uses for you, sometimes it's a bit confusing, but it's more so endearing.

You can say all you want about Kisaki but no one can say that this man isn't your biggest fan. You're the only one in his eyes but you're also the best. You got no competition but you're also destroying your competition with the twitch of your finger. Ain't it nice, to be someone's one and only 😆

Ran's ideal date is a sleep date. You two watching a movie on the computer, cuddled together under the blankets. He lasts half the movie but it's worth it because he has his hands on your waist and chin on your shoulder. He says he's not a cuddler but his grip on you is like iron, he will not let you move.

Mitsuya will fit you into his schedule no matter what. He's got two younger siblings and a Hakkai to take care of but he always has time for his baby. Yeah, he has three late assignments, five new outfits to make and grocery shopping to take care of, but please tell him about your day. Will take a break from what he's doing for his beautiful baby.

Might not look like it, but Benkei has the best hugs. You guys see him latting Shinichiro's head, now imagine those big strong hands wrapping around you. He's so warm and comforting, his hugs are meant for a higher power. Even if he's strong, he's incredibly careful around you. Big strong men being delicate for you despite their strength 🤤

Rindou makes mixtapes for you. You're always on his mind and when you're on his mind, he just makes a playlist for you. You and him probably share a Spotify account at this point with the amount of playlists dedicated to you. And they all have the same sappy titles 'to the Love of my Life'.

You ever see someone looking at their partner in the picture instead of at the camera. Yeah, that's Shinichiro. He knows that he was lucky to get you, and he's in awe that you still choose to be by his side. Now, the only time he smiling is because he's looking at yours 😁

Cooking together, the best and tastiest love language around. Fits that best boy, Angry has it! Will make your faves, and he HAS to learn food from your culture. He likes going on picnic dates because he can show off his skills to you, and he loves hearing your enjoyment (and you're the real winner with how delicious everything is). You two cook together. Though if you're one of those who are a mess in the kitchen, Angry's just happy to see you enjoy things he made. Pls praise him though, he won't say it but be revels in your praise. Your words are everything to him ❤.

Takemichi is loyal to the end. Don't worry about this boy lacking, he's here for you. He could be in a room of models but the only one he's got his eyes on is you. You're #1 to him 🥰

If you hate someone Chifuyu hates them even more. You say something bad about someone once, he despises them forever and wants to sell their soul to Satan. He will not forgive and he will not forget. He loves you and he will never get other people who don't feel the same.

Wakasa would quit smoking for you. The minute you cough around him, he's throwing his cigar away and replacing them with lollipops. No matter how much he might miss them, your lungs are more important 😙

Those things that you're obsessed with that no one else really cares about? Kakucho will erase those worries, easy. He doesn't mind your ramblings, encourages them. Will keep it all in his mind and remember them so he can participate deeper with things. Your interests are his interests hun!

Kazutora loves spontaneous dates so much. And he makes sure that you two go on them often. Wants to make sure that your relationship never weakens so he loves being around you, and the best way to be around you is doing your favourite things! He will sneak you out if need be so you two can have a picnic in the moonlight.

You need some support, good thing Sanzu offers it unconditionally. Going from things like you needing help on wash day to you needing to cover up a body, your bae's got your back. He might not enjoy doing everything, he's just a tad bratty, but no matter how loud he's complaining throughout, he still gonna do it!

Smiley will defend your honour! He hears some bitch talking about you, he won't let that slide. Blood will be spilled. Someone got something fun to say about your heavenly skin, he gonna kill someone. He's like Draken if Draken was an unhinged gremlin. He will beat someone up and then look at you with a smile on his face like, are you okay precious?

All your dreams of drowning in a strong man's clothes (that's a fantasy we all have, right?) are fulfilled with Mucho. He's so much taller than you (and if not, he's got muscles for days) so whenever you steal some of his clothes, you swim in them. It's a beautiful, comforting, amazing feeling.

Atsushi is the kind to learn how to braid just for you! He knows that going to a barber is expensive so he's got your back. He's doing goddess braids for you, cornrows, whatever you desire. And if you're not a braid person, well good thing he can learn how to!

Shion's pet names are ridiculous! Will call you baby cakes all the time and then start calling you pumpkin the next day. Is he doing this because he's stupid yes but he also likes to see your little smile. All he wants is your goofy little smile 😘

Takeomi is a planner, always, and you're always going to be part of his plans. When he's talking about the future, you're going to be part of it. It's so sweet how casual he is about it, you two will just be laying down in his bed holding hands and he'll be mentioning how good you'd look with a ring on your finger.

Hanma is secretly a romantic. He's an adrenaline junkie in the end though, so he spins things to an insane degree. Sneaking up a ferris wheel and kissing you under the moonlight, telling you to skip school so you guys can watch the sunrise and sunset, skinny dipping at the beach! If it's a bit too much, he gotchu. He's fine with both of you just hanging out on your bed or chilling in the bath. He's not your typical love interest, but he's surprisingly understanding and sweet 😍

Can y'all tell how deprived I am 😭. Also, not proof read because I'm lazy!

[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.

[shoeistars]

— NO PHOTOS ! pt. 2

༺ feat. reo, barou, rin, sae, shidou

༺ outline. where the boys keep their slutty polas of you <3

༺ w. pro!players, 18+ content, minors dni, photos/polas, fem!reader, read at your own discretion as I don’t do individual tagging for element of surprise <3

༺ pt. 1 (isagi, bachira, chigiri, kunigami, nagi)

— REO ! car dash

When Reo got his hands on his first hypercar, his main priority was keeping the thing clean. No trash, no eating inside of the vehicle, you weren’t even allowed to do your makeup when you’re playing your role of passenger princess. He just wanted to keep the interior spotless, despite the fact that he could buy as many overpriced vehicles as he fucking desired

So, when you hopped into the car one day and noticed the pola of you that he had resting against the dash of his brand new Bugatti, you were stunned. He hadn’t even put a goddamn air freshener on the rearview yet

Whenever you got around to questioning him, all he did was shrug, a smug grin on his face as he drove you to your nail appointment. After all, he got bored when he was sitting in traffic. The picture of you, perched on his California king with the prettiest bra and panty set hugging your body juuust right was worth bending a few rules over

— BAROU ! wallet

The polaroid itself was your idea in the first place. He didn’t really understand what the hell the hype was about, but he’d bend over backwards to see that pretty smile you’d give him when you got your way. Whenever he saw the photo, however, his perspective was changed immediately

You’d been hiked up onto a bathroom sink, always getting way too horny for your own good at events where attendance mattered. He’d sneak you away when you’d start touching on him and whispering dirty shit in his ear, never able to say no to his queen

Thus the birth of the pola nestled in his wallet, right beside his bank card. The view of his thick dick stretching your tightness out was too good to pass up, milky ring of cream wrapped around his base and spilling out of your hole. He just had to have it with him at all times

— RIN ! under his pillow

Pushing the pussy whipped loser boy agenda for Rin because you’re most definitely his first love, the first girl he’s ever touched, fingered, fucked. Having popped his cherry, he can’t help but be completely enamored by you. The mere thought of you gets him hard and he hates that factor to his core

Which plays into why exactly he has a nasty polaroid of you tucked under his navy-clad pillow, right where he rests his head to sleep for the night. It’s safe there, it’s within easy reach for him to fuck his fist to when you’re too far away, which is too often for his own liking thanks to away games

The photo itself is his treasure, a simple one where you’re on your bruised knees, showing him what exactly a facial is. Although he loves you most barefaced, he can’t even lie and deny that your face dripping wet and sticky with his seed isn’t the hottest thing he’s ever laid his eyes on

— SAE ! checkbook

Weird place, sure, but there is nothing normal about Sae as a whole. In his eyes, there are three prizes in the world: wins, money, and you. The polaroid fits perfectly right where he has it

There’s nothing more rewarding to him than whipping out his checkbook to buy something big, just to be greeted with your cunt on full display, the photo clipped front and center onto the leather book cover

It’s a real looker of a photo too, his thumb spreading your glossy folds to show off the stream of his cum dripping out of your hole, coating your asshole in thick nut. All he can ever think about is how you whimpered when he licked it up after snapping the shot

— SHIDOU ! pola wall

The consequences of dating a shameless, unhinged individual consists of your nudes being shown off any and every possible chance presented to him. He’s sick, sometimes unreasonable, but you’re too goddamn pretty for him to just hide away

Hence why he’s got a nice slab of white wall in his bedroom, fully dedicated to you. He calls it romantic, of course. All sorts of polas are taped up as decoration, different positions and scenarios

Maybe it’s awkward for guests that just so happen to step into his bedroom for whatever reason, but you like being shown off, don’t you? He figured a slut like you would wanna be put on display, considering you’re just like him

[thesilmarillionblog]

STRANGER

Summary: Although you were always aware that Black Noir was silent, it didn't stop you from quickly developing a bond. However, as soon as he touches you when he gets home, something about him feels off. You ignore his attitude since it still feels so nice, despite the fact that it feels like he is someone else entirely, a stranger.

Pairing: Black Noir / Reader

Warnings: Dark Fiction!, +18!Only, Smut, Suspense

Word Count: 2423

A/N: English is not my first language.

You asked Homelander and Ashley if Noir had been assigned to another mission because you were getting frustrated that he had not texted you back for days and had suddenly vanished. You were relieved when they informed you he had a lot on his plate, but you were also annoyed because it wasn't like him to ignore you or return your texts. One of his great virtues was that he would always text you back, even when you believed he was going to rip a head off during those missions.

Though you knew he couldn't talk which was a big obstacle for a healthy conversation, you moved his house months after you started dating without a second thought. You weren't in the slightest disturbed by that. Since actions speak louder than words, it was actually preferable if men said nothing at all. And Noir certainly knew how to express his affection for you.

You giggled uncontrollably at the memory of his adorable actions toward you. Even though he appeared tough and ruthless when wearing that black suit, he was always warm and affectionate with you. He was regarded by the world as one of the most formidable, vicious, and dangerous supe alive, yet you were aware of his extreme thoughtfulness and sensitivity, particularly with regard to his relationship with you.

No matter how much you wanted to see him, you didn't push him, even if he didn't take off his mask or suit at all while you were around. You knew he was extremely sensitive about how he looked and everything. When he finally trusted you enough to show himself to you, you knew he would eventually open himself up. 

You made the decision to dress elegantly and boldly for his gaze when he eventually texted you back to say he would be home tonight. You knew he liked you in short, lace-covered satin gowns. It had been nearly two weeks since he returned home, and you were aware that he missed you just as much as you did. 

It was when he eventually came home, after you had been waiting for him for hours with your dress on and messaging him nonstop, that you understood how much you liked him. You couldn't help but think about him and grin to yourself at all of your adorable times together when he acted a little goofy and awkward.

As he slowly made his way inside the home, you said, “Hey,” and gave him a quick hug. "Welcome home."

Noir offered you a strong hug in return and nodded as if he wanted to say the same thing. You then landed a firm kiss through his mask and said, “I've missed you too.”

As Homelander and Vought cautioned him not to talk, especially when you were around, Black Noir tried his hardest to remain silent. It was told to him that you were Noir's partner, and since Vought already had too much on its plate these days, it would be best if you didn't realize he wasn't the real Noir. He didn't mind you acting like your adorable, naive lover since he had seen your pictures and the way you texted him as though you were in heat, making it obvious that you wanted to be fucked till you were unable to walk.

As a result, he would enjoy the ride as well, providing for your needs in the manner that was expected of him. When they showed your picture, he didn't really care about Vought and all that, but now he thought it would be fun because you seemed so eager to please him with that slutty, lovely fucking dress. 

You said, “How went?” as if he could respond, but it didn't feel strange for you to remain silent. If one of you stayed quiet the entire time, it would be odd.

Noir kept himself from talking and instead studied your body and outfit with fascination, which made you chuckle. As though you could see him, he turned out the lamp, and you didn't object, supposing it was just one of his insecure times. 

You sat on his lap and softly touched his covered face before responding with a whispered “Why the hell you didn't text me back for days?” in an attempt to sound like a mad woman. “You didn't behave like that before, you know.” 

Under his mask, Noir gave you a mischievous smile as his hands boldly stroked your body, growing harder every second as he saw your nipples peek from your thin dress, giving the impression that you wanted a quick and brutal fuck. 'Who would have thought that mission would be so hot and delightful?' he thought as his gloved hand squeezed your hips until you nearly moaned with pain. He was touching your pussy firmly and passionately, making it wet. 

You removed the stupid plastic item covering his cock with your hands and began slowly grinding against his clothed shaft while moaning, “You're such a turn-on today? Did you really miss fucking me that much?”

Noir gulped down, and as you kept continuing to moan and gasp loudly, one of his hands tightly pinched your tits. “Did you miss filling me with your hot seed into my pussy? When you finally texted me back today, I fingered myself while thinking about your huge cock.”

The filth flowing from your lips made him extremely hard, and once he filled up your dress, he gave your ass a hard spank. 

You groaned in protest when he abruptly lifted you off his lap. He forced you to your knees before you could say anything, gripping your hair firmly as he struggled to get his cock out of his suit. He stretched his legs and drew your head toward himself while you were kneeling in front of him on the edge of the bed. You were taken aback by his sudden harshness and passion because you had never sucked him off before. Maybe the fact that you hadn't fucked in weeks was the reason he was feeling so kinky this evening.

Excitement filled your body as you waited for him to finally reveal his cock. Before you could even say anything, he pushed your head against his cock, forcing you to suck him. 

Noir made a determined attempt to stop himself from giving you orders to properly suck him off and wet his dick as your tongue quickly lapped the tip of his shaft. As you gave him a head, he grabbed one of your hands and put it on his cock, urging you to use your hands. 

“You're so thick, you know, it's hard to take it all,” you remarked as you placed your hands on his balls and sucked the sensitive head of his thick cock. “You taste so good.”

Noir let out a soft and low chuckle as you did your best to satisfy him and make him cum. You were such a good cocksucker it was disappointing he couldn't give you any compliments. He smiled thinking about how would your boyfriend respond seeing you sucking a stranger’s cock so eagerly.

When you swallowed his head, he moaned angrily, as you were only able to take half of his cock. He took hold of your hair and began giving you hard pushes until your nose touched his pubic hair. 

When he began to fuck your face, you attempted to pull away as his hands applied heavy pressure to your head until the tip of his cock touched your throat and tears streamed down your cheeks. He was always extremely particular about being clean and well-groomed, so when you saw he didn't shave, you were somewhat taken aback. He made you take up every inch of his hardness, pushed your head into his balls, and waited till you tapped his legs in an attempt to regain your breath. 

After he finally released your head a bit, you muttered, “You're extremely rough tonight.”

Even though he was harsh, you were so attracted to his behavior that you began to suck him the way he preferred, taking his entire shaft and rubbing his balls, wetting them with your saliva.

You pushed yourself to get him to cum in your mouth as soon as you sensed him getting closer.

You teased him, “Where do you want to cum?” as you continued to stroke his throbbing erection.

Noir slowly withdrew his cock from your lips, stilled your head, and began to fuck into your mouth, pressing the tip of his cock on your tongue so you could taste its salty essence. He was savoring the facial expressions you made and your sensual groans, and he growled with pleasure as he thought he was fucking real Black Noir's girlfriend's mouth and he was about to fuck his girlfriend's pussy. 

He removed his cock from your mouth and stroked your lips and cheeks with his cock while holding it as if he were fucking your face. After some time, he stopped wanting to cum in your mouth or on your face. 

When you attempted to put him in your mouth again, he growled in disapproval and threw you into the bed while trying to help you get up. With a swift and forceful motion that left you gasping in dismay, he forced your face against the mattress and tore off your underwear quickly. 

Although you weren't prepared for him to behave in this manner, you waited for him to lead you in the direction he wanted since you were eager to please him and you were already turned on by him. 

Noir stretched your legs apart and checked the intensity of the wetness by sticking two fingers inside your pussy. He groaned in satisfaction as he saw that you had already gotten wet, and he removed his meaty fingers with ease. 

You let out a loud cry and pushed him to move more quickly as he roughed you with his fingers. You let out a cry of pleasure as soon as you began to clench around his fingers. Once your climax subsided, he pulled you more into the sheets, thinking that this would be the time when he would finally turn you back and act a little more romantically. You let him have his fun, figuring he wanted to play hard this evening. 

Noir played with your clit from behind, taking his throbbing manhood into his fingers and giving himself short, rapid strokes. Upon realizing that you were anticipating his fuck with your legs apart, he gasped with delight. 

Breathless, you gasped as he began to press his shaft into your wetness. His gloved hands gripped your hips firmly as he began a quick and violent fuck. His big balls were slamming into your clit, producing obscene noises that filled the room. 

You were gasping out and raising your hips to meet his strong thrusts as Noir's hardness throbbed into your pussy. He pounded into you with powerful strokes, gripping your hair and pulling it while you clutched the sheets beneath your fingers under his instense fuck. 

You whined, “Fuck, you are so good,” your eyes welling up with tears due to the intensity of the moment. “Fuck me harder.” 

Under the mask, Noir grinned at your filthy actions and the way you urged a total stranger to give you more fucking, like a whore. He began fucking you from behind even more forcefully after pulling off your hair. You were screaming like a bitch in heat, and you had no idea that you were fucking a stranger. He thought you were a free chick for him to enjoy himself to the fullest. He would count himself fortunate.

Sensing his approaching closeness, he moved slightly and reached your sweet spot, giving you multiple orgasms before spilling inside of you. Your legs trembled wildly as you clamped around his cock after he found your sensitive spot and gave you an aggressive fuck there. Your pussy felt so sensitive that you tapped his legs to get him to slow down, but instead he fucked you even harder and struck the same area repeatedly, leaving you speechless. 

“Fuck, Noir,” was the only thing you could say. “It feels sensitive.” 

But instead of slowing down, he continued to fuck you through your climax until he made you cum on his cock once more. Your legs were shaking, and you were screaming his name in between endless orgasms. He was forcing himself not to laugh out loud while you kept orgasming under a stranger.

He pushed all of his length into your pussy and began spilling himself into you as he continued to fuck you after he decided you had come on his cock enough. You again clenched around his cock as his thick white ropes filled your insides. When he felt your pussy continued to clench around his shaft with eagerness, and he moaned with satisfaction. It seemed to him that you were a needy one, and he would be thrilled to give what you needed.

Your legs continued to shake as you felt his thick seed leaking out of your pussy, and you grinned and bit your lip, satisfied. You felt a deep sense of satisfaction, and you had no idea that you could get so many orgasms so quickly. Noir did give you a hard fuck during certain times, but that was the first time he used such force on you and ignored your boundaries, of which you were glad. You felt that he ought to have revealed more of his personality sooner. 

Noir met your tongue, palmed your pussy from behind, and put his weight on your back. He pulled his mask halfway to give you a firm kiss, you realized.

You gasped in horror as his lips found your ear, and he whispered into the darkness, “Not bad, darling.”

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿

A/N: Comments are appreciated. You can check my Masterlist for more! 🩶

Black Noir Fics Taglist: @anundyingfidelity @believeinthefireflies95

[onmykneesformatt]

vanilla - c.s.

requested: yes!!

synopsis: after a lengthy relationship, chris decides to try and surprise you on your 7 month anniversary. it doesn’t go how he planned, and he feels bad.

warnings: SMUT OH MY FUCK. just very aggressive (no major abuse or violence), degrading, choking, hair-pulling, overstimulation, use of safe word, aftercare, angst (happy ending tho!!), i don’t think anything else but lmk!!

a/n: i think it’s about time i write smth about chris and feed y’all. so, eat up!! (also i tried to put a picture and it literally wouldn’t let me😭)

you and chris never really thought about kinks or anything like that. you had talked about it, but the furthest you two ever went was just filming it once or twice. even then, it was still very vanilla. it was soft, enjoyable, and not very rough.

chris wanted to change that.

“so, wait. are we going somewhere?”

“we can, but that’s not the surprise.”

chris kind of smirked, knowing that his surprise was not something you expected.

“can you just tell me? it almost dark out and we’be barely done anything all day except for you making me a nice breakfast. which, i did appreciate by the way.”

“you’re welcome, and no. i’m not telling you.”

he tapped his fingertips together and chuckled lightly. he liked surprising you. he’d done it multiple times before. a bouquet on your door step, a new pair of expensive heels, even flying home early from boston and not telling you. it was his thing.

and tonight was a surprise.

-

at 9:30 pm, you started to get ready for bed. you almost did it in protest for how you and chris barely did anything today.

“oooh, what’s this? toner? replace the t with a b.”

he giggled. how dare he? after not giving you a major day like he does every other anniversary?

you kept a straight face, not breaking eye contact with your face in the mirror as you kept applying serums and creams.

“what’s wrong?”

“nothing, chris.”

he knew that whenver you ended a sentence with his name, you were mad.

“look, how about i meet you in the bedroom in five minutes, and make it up to you?”

you let a little smile show, remembering that your surprise to him was a peachy-orange lingerie set that hugged you in all the right places and showed all the right skin.

“fine.”

-

it started slow and sweet, like always.

but it slowly turned into more.

he went from having you on your back with him lightly laying on you to flipping you onto all fours and ripping the new lingerie set off— literally.

“chris-“

“shut up and take it. i know you can, slut.”

it felt good, the way he was pounding into you.

what didn’t feel good was him calling you the one word you didn’t like. after he started pulling your hair, it all felt real.

were you really just some toy he used? was this his breaking point where he realized he didn’t actually like or respect you like he pretended?

“chris, i don’t-“

he pushed your face into the pillow, tightening his grip on your hair.

“i said shut the fuck up. god, you really are just some slut who thinks she can do anything she wants.”

tears started welling in your eyes. they only strengthened when he started swatting your ass and digging his free hand into your back.

it hurt. like, actually hurt. but he wouldn’t listen.

he was never like this. chris? be aggressive? especially in such a vulnerable moment? never. until now.

after almost suffocating with your face in the pillow for what felt like hours, you tried to shift your face over just enough to be able to breathe. it was hard, with his grip on your hair pushing your head down into it.

eventually, you were able to properly breathe. you started breathing heavier and heavier. not from pleasure, but from overstimulation. from pain.

“i- i can’t! chris!”

he could barely hear you over his grunts and the sounds of skin slapping loudly.

“cant.. can’t what? slut can’t use her words now?”

you tried, but he was causing you so much pain that the tears were taking over. so much so, that you just broke.

what he thought were breaths and tears of pleasure started to settle in, and he finally realized. your pillow and face wet with a taste of salt, and your heart pounding so bad you started shaking.

he slowed down, moving your messy, wet hair out of your face.

“vanilla! vanilla!”

your safe word. you never needed it before, but you guys thought of it after having sex the first or second time. he always wanted you to know you were in control of what was happening too. in a sort of inside joke/mockery, he made it “vanilla”.

“hey- hey.”

he took a second to gather himself and pull out, sitting next to you on the bed. your body fell limp on the sheets.

“what’s wrong-“

“no!”

he tried to rub your shoulder, but your yelling frightened him. it should’ve. the way he caused you the pain he did was horrible.

“hey-“

“just- stop! what-“

your crying intensified, leaving him with a concerned look.

“what made you think that was okay?!”

you tried to stand, stabling yourself with a hand on the bed and the other holding a throw blanket to cover your body.

“what do you mean-“

“what do i mean? chris- you just.. started going crazy! it felt good at first, but you pulled my hair, you dug your nails into my back! you- you called me a slut!”

“i thought-“

“no you didn’t! you didn’t think at all!”

it finally hit him.

that word.

the one word he promised to never use.

“baby- i didn’t mean any of it!”

“then why’d you do it!”

tears turning into anger at his stupidity slowly dried up.

“i thought it would be a nice surprise for our anniversary! but, i’m sorry. i forgot about that word.”

that word was used against you everyday in highschool, ever since you gave some kid a handjob at the park. anytime you wore something even slightly revealing. it opened a floodgate for name-calling.

the tears started up again once silence filled the bedroom.

again, chris was never like this. you always thought he would provide the comfort you so desperately needed in your life. however, it seemed like he thought otherwise.

chris stood up, walked around the bed, and engulfed you in his arms. after realizing that he truly didn’t mean it (doesn’t make it okay, but it’s good he realized he was in the wrong), you hugged him back.

“how about we clean up. can i help you with that?”

you sniffled while stepping back from him. you dropped the blanket and wiped your eyes.

“yeah.”

you spoke softly, still trying to catch light breaths.

he grabbed your hand, leading you the bathroom.

he started the shower, grabbing your coconut body wash out of the bathroom closet along with a soft, white towel.

after getting you into the perfectly-warm shower, he started to clean you up. he didn’t let you move a muscle. he made sure you were fully clean and taken care of before even thinking about himself. he grazed your body with the loofah, making sure every inch was perfectly covered.

“i really am sorry, baby. i didn’t mean to take it that far. i think i just got too excited. i’ll never do it again, i can promise you that.”

“a warning would’ve been nice. i get why you did it. throw in a little variety, or whatever. but that word really set me off.”

“i know, i know.”

he kissed the back of your damp head, making sure you knew he meant his sorrow.

“i forgot. but, no excuse. how about now i dry you off and get you into some comfy clothes, hm?”

his tone was low but sweet. your heart stopped racing, your breath caught up, and your mind was at ease.

“okay.”

after he dried you off, still not letting you do it yourself, he grabbed your hand to lead back into the bedroom. while you were sat patiently on the edge of the bed, he rummaged through drawers and shelves looking for your favorite sleep shirt and a pair of under wear with comfortable shorts.

“this good?”

“yes. thank you.”

“stand up, please.”

you dropped your towel, letting him glide the extra large graphic tee over your head. you lifted each leg as he slid the underwear up, then doing the same with the loose shorts.

“get comfy in bed, i got some treats for you earlier.”

“really? thank you, chris.”

“anything for my girl. she deserves nothing but the best, so i try all for her.”

he kissed your forehead before you slid into the bed, pulling the thick comforter over your body and turning on your favorite show.

-

you fell asleep in eachothers arms, but not until he gave you a lengthy apology.

you know he didn’t mean it, but he needed you to remember he wouldn’t do it again.

his heartbeat under your head lulled you into a deep slumber. a soft, orange light coming from the lamp in the corner of the bedroom mixed with the tv still playing your favorite show made just enough light for you to not have any other worries that night. an open bag of the tastiest chocolate on the nightstand next to two open soda cans had filled your stomach and your heart. the soft laugh tracks in the background and fan lightly blowing on you gave you the comfort you needed.

the biggest comfort was chris’ concern.

he loves you.

you love him.

that’s all you need.

-

AHHHH ITS DONEEEEEEE!!!!! i pray that this is as good as y’all are expecting 😭😭 but seriously though, i thank y’all for the support. i’m at 300 followers already (WHAT THE FUCK) and i couldn’t have done it without you guys. love y’all!! mwah!!💋❣️🌺

taglist: @sleepysturniolo @suyqa @jessie-essie @sturnsobsessed

sorry if i missed anyone that wanted to be tagged!!

[gibberishfangirl]

Hello! I'd like to request Bofurin (and anyone else if you'd like) with reader who's very feminine

Pink dresses, bows everywhere, sunshine energy.. You get it

WIND BREAKER | dating the coquette girly

Synopsis ✰ head cannons of the boys dating a girly coquette sunshine girl who is aesthetically pleasing

Characters ✰ Haruka Sakura, Hajime Umemiya, Hayato Suo, Akihiko Nirei, Mitsuki Kiryu, Toma Higari, Jo Togame, Choji Tomiyama

Contains ✰ sfw! boys being mesmerized, cute content of them admiring your style

★ a/n <3 : I LOVE THIS. i love all my cute girly girls out there. i envisioned a coquette aesthetic/style when i first saw your request so i ran with it! hope you don’t mind and this is what you were also thinking <3 ★

Haruka Sakura ᡣ𐭩

𝜗𝜚 your style makes him more bashful

𝜗𝜚 he’s very protective over you

𝜗𝜚 fights off any creeps whose eyes linger on you for too long

𝜗𝜚 “stop staring, it’s creepy.”

𝜗𝜚 loves how nice, gentle, and optimistic you are

𝜗𝜚 you’re the only person he has photos of saved onto his phone

𝜗𝜚 blushes and stares at his phone for hours whenever you send him selfies

𝜗𝜚 “what are you looking at Sakura?” “nothing!”

𝜗𝜚 such a shy blushing mess whenever you happen to wear sundresses or short skirts

𝜗𝜚 on guard 24/7 wanting to make sure no one else is looking at you inappropriately

𝜗𝜚 his favorite season quickly becomes spring since it reminds him of you

𝜗𝜚 secretly loves whenever you take his phone and snap cute selfies of yourself (he constantly has a new wallpaper because of this)

𝜗𝜚 100% gets teased by his friends for having so many photos of you

Hajime Umemiya ᡣ𐭩

𝜗𝜚 matches your energy perfectlyy

𝜗𝜚 you two bounce off each other so well

𝜗𝜚 loves how cute you are

𝜗𝜚 literally plants flowers that remind him of you

𝜗𝜚 loves to take pics of you with his plants (hello?? pics of his favorite things on earth together? consider him obsessed)

𝜗𝜚 he’s obsessed with you

𝜗𝜚 loves to show all the cute photos he has of you to his friends

𝜗𝜚 bro is literally kicking his feet and giggling over you

𝜗𝜚 his mood instantly gets better with you around

𝜗𝜚 is even happier once he finds out you and Kotoha get along

𝜗𝜚 strongly convinced that he will marry you in the future

𝜗𝜚 tempted to propose now

𝜗𝜚 loves to watch you get ready and do cute hairstyles on yourself

𝜗𝜚 learns how to do ponytails so he can help you with your little half up half down pigtail hair-do’s (hopefully i made that make sense LOL sorry if i didn’t)

𝜗𝜚 you can practically see heart shapes in his eyes whenever he looks at you

Hayato Suo ᡣ𐭩

𝜗𝜚 fell in love at first sight

𝜗𝜚 he was star struck when he first saw you

𝜗𝜚 you’re literally his ideal type

𝜗𝜚 loves how pleasing you are to look at and be around

𝜗𝜚 has a hard time believing you’re real

𝜗𝜚 100000% will let you put bows in his hair

𝜗𝜚 keeps a close eye on you since he doesn’t want you to get bothered by anyone

𝜗𝜚 takes you on the cutest dates ever

𝜗𝜚 takes the cutest pics of you during your dates

𝜗𝜚 will ask you to send him selfies everyday

𝜗𝜚 his social media accounts are basically fan accounts of you

𝜗𝜚 sweetest couple alive

𝜗𝜚 your gentle energy matches well with his

𝜗𝜚 is slightly taken back by how genuine you are (in a good way)

𝜗𝜚 has the urge to protect you from the world

𝜗𝜚 constantly thinks about how lucky he was to cross paths with you and be your boyfriend

Akihiko Nirei ᡣ𐭩

𝜗𝜚 being the fashionista he is, he loves your outfits

𝜗𝜚 is in love with the aesthetic and totally gets the picture

𝜗𝜚 will help you plan out your outfits on facetime

𝜗𝜚 still can’t fathom why someone like you would choose someone like him

𝜗𝜚 feels lucky you to have you and never takes you for granted

𝜗𝜚 he always assumed someone as cute as you would go for a guy more like Suo or Kiryu, so he feels special that you wanted him

𝜗𝜚 loves to go shopping with you

𝜗𝜚 buys any cute item he sees because it reminds him of you

𝜗𝜚 expect him to gift you tons of things due to that

𝜗𝜚 “here i got you this because it made me think of you!” (CUTEST BOY)

𝜗𝜚 will always defend you if anyone says anything

𝜗𝜚 literally becomes your personal photographer

𝜗𝜚 you guys are such couple goals on social media

𝜗𝜚 blushes whenever you’re very caring towards him

𝜗𝜚 you help boost his confidence since you always have so many positive things to say about him

Mitsuki Kiryu ᡣ𐭩

𝜗𝜚 have you seen this man? he lovesss your style

𝜗𝜚 thinks you’re the most precious thing to ever exist

𝜗𝜚 he loves to hold your hand in public and show you off

𝜗𝜚 spends most of his day resting his cheek on his hand while admiring your cuteness

𝜗𝜚 will match with you if you ask

𝜗𝜚 will twirl you around so he can watch your cute dresses/skirts flow in the air

𝜗𝜚 brags about how cute his girlfriend is to others

𝜗𝜚 compliments you whenever he has the chance

𝜗𝜚 takes so many pictures of you

𝜗𝜚 his phone screen is definitely a photo of you dressed up all cute in a field of flowers

𝜗𝜚 loves to fix up the bows in your hair

𝜗𝜚 won’t mind if you ever ask to put a bow on him

𝜗𝜚 both you share love for the color pink

𝜗𝜚 loves it when you sit on his lap during hang outs so everyone knows your his

𝜗𝜚 of course no one is surprised to find out how adorable Kiryu’s girlfriend is

Toma Higari ᡣ𐭩

𝜗𝜚 he’s very shy about how polar opposites you two look

𝜗𝜚 no one really saw you two coming

𝜗𝜚 you’re like a breath of fresh air to him

𝜗𝜚 loves how peaceful you are in comparison to his chaotic lifestyle

𝜗𝜚 you live in bliss as your boyfriend practically scares off anyone from messing with you

𝜗𝜚 feels refreshed being around you

𝜗𝜚 seriously you’re like a glass of cool water on a hot day to him that’s how much you affect him

𝜗𝜚 loves how caring you are about him and those around you

𝜗𝜚 your hopeful attitude rubs off on him after hanging out with you consistently

𝜗𝜚 definitely has a problem with anyone who makes any weird or sly comments about you or your relationship with him

𝜗𝜚 has no problem defending you in any case

𝜗𝜚 gets very flustered by your wardrobe choices at times

𝜗𝜚 might want you to change sometimes if your skirt is too short

𝜗𝜚 will consider beating up any guy who looks at you

Jo Togame ᡣ𐭩

𝜗𝜚 he’s a sly dog

𝜗𝜚 100% checks you out when you’re not looking (hell, he’s doing that even if you’re looking)

𝜗𝜚 loves how dainty and delicate you look in comparison to him

𝜗𝜚 he’s all over you 24/7 even if it’s just casually hugging you from behind

𝜗𝜚 definitely makes sure everyone knows your his girl

𝜗𝜚 very protective over you

𝜗𝜚 won’t be afraid to check anyone if they’re being inappropriate towards you

𝜗𝜚 finds you very sweet for being so nice to him and being very considerate of him

𝜗𝜚 ruins your outfits by making you wear his jacket over them

𝜗𝜚 he thinks his jacket makes you look cuter with the way it swallows you

𝜗𝜚 makes you wear his jacket because it shows to others you’re his and it makes people back off

𝜗𝜚 encourages your clothing choices

𝜗𝜚 “wear whatever you want, i can fight.” (HEAVY ON THIS ENERGY)

Choji Tomiyama ᡣ𐭩

𝜗𝜚 has the same “wear whatever you want, i can fight.” energy

𝜗𝜚 be careful, he will literally beat anyone into a pulp if they look at you funny, talk about you vulgarly, hits on you, etc. all he needs is just one reason

𝜗𝜚 he doesn’t really understand fashion but thinks you’re beautiful

𝜗𝜚 loves how confident you are and how you know exactly who you are

𝜗𝜚 admires how much effort you put into getting ready

𝜗𝜚 always wants to take you out to lunch, dinner, the movies, anywhere he can just so he can see what new cute outfits you can come up with

𝜗𝜚 compliments you 24/7

𝜗𝜚 will ask you to put your hair accessories on him

𝜗𝜚 definitely the dresses up gf and dresses down bf couple

𝜗𝜚 he actually likes how much you stick out when you’re next to him

𝜗𝜚 always wants to suffocate you in hugs after he sees how adorable you look that day

𝜗𝜚 two peas in a pod

𝜗𝜚 you both radiate the same energy at times

𝜗𝜚 you help him stay at a happy place, if he ever feels himself feeling sad again you’re always there to grab his hand and pull him right out <3

[umnitsa]

Dirty old man

Summary: Joel is on his seventies, but he still has needs.

A/N: Ok, so. One pic made the rounds in one of the discord servers I frequent and it made me wild, I won't lie (it was a pic/meme with aged Pedro Pascal). Highly inspired by @toxicanonymity's GILF!Joel (mine is a bit of a perv, but this isn't really a dark fic). It was also inspired by @atticrissfinch's MMITB (I wish I had a fraction of her talent for dirty talk, but I'm not even a native speaker of English, so I do what I can). Now you go read them both, I ASSURE YOU it'll be a good time. Huge thanks for all the people that cheered me on with this: Toxi, @romanarose, @beefrobeefcal, @gwendibleywrites, I love you all. (I must admit that I don't know if I'll ever continue this, honestly, although part of me wants to get to the sex scene. xD)

Pairing: No outbreak old man!Joel x Reader

CW: Joel being bold, dirty talk. That's it <3

No beta, we die like lonely writers xD

It wasn’t a bad job.

Sarah wanted to hire you to take care of her father, Joel. He wasn’t that old, but years of hard work in construction gave him some mobility issues. Sarah worried he spent too time alone, and that he could fall, get hurt and trapped without help because of his pride (which seemed to be a real possibility, considering Joel didn’t want to lose his independence in any way).

You were supposed to get the night shift, which was nice. The night shift was calm, except when it wasn’t. Sarah assured you she talked to her father, she wanted to introduce you to him, before you started working.

You prepared for war, if the man was as stubborn and grumpy as his daughter described.

Sarah introduced you and the old man looked at you over his glasses.

“You sure this pretty thing can lift me off the floor?” He asked, a crooked smirk stretching his lips. You considered answering him, but he raised his face defiantly and winked.

He was teasing his daughter.

You chuckled, to Joel’s delight. Sarah hired you on the spot.

***

Joel was grumpy most of the time. You could understand. Getting older was specially hard on some people. Losing their independence seemed to be a horrifying blow.

You admired the family pictures displayed on the walls and the bookshelves. They showed a younger Joel, large and proud, wearing tight tshirts that showed his big arms.

He didn’t change much, to be honest. His hair now was completely silver, as his beard. The wrinkles didn’t spoil his roguish smile. He was on his seventies, but looked younger, somehow. You blamed his brown eyes.

***

“You know what I miss most about my youth?” He said softly one day, entering the living room. You were looking at his pictures. He slowly moved by your side and placed a hand over your back, rubbing gentle circles. “All the pussy.”

You turned to him, astonished at his boldness. He smirked, then shrugged. You felt your face getting warm and a different, slick, syrupy warmth pooling on your lower belly. He licked his lips and sighed.

“It was easy to get pussy with those looks.” He pointed at one picture of himself and smiled proudly. “Didn’t fuck as much as I wanted, or as much as I could. Tried to be a good dad. Don’t regret anything, but... Oh boy, I miss it.” He looked you up and down, his smile turning appreciative.

“Thought old pervs like you liked tiny thin teenagers.” You scoffed.

“Only dumbasses want those.” Joel chuckled, his hand sliding lower on your back. “I like them older. Like you. With those eyes, like you know and did everything under the sun.” Joel hums, closing his eyes. “Get them cockdumb and they cry so sweetly… Mmmm, the surprise in their wide eyes...” He licks his lips, watching your reaction. You laugh, trying to hide your own arousal.

“Well, Joel, I think the preference is because they are supposed to be tight.” You said firmly, standing your ground. You refused to look shocked, and you saw no reason to scold him, at least not yet. Maybe it was your pussy talking.

Joel leaned over you slowly; you stayed very still. His warm breath tickled your ear.

“After a certain size, honey, everything feels tight.” He said softly, grabbing his half hard cock through his pants. You looked down and gasped, noticing the girth of his bulge inside his huge hand. Joel stepped back, smiling proudly, and moved into the house, dragging his feet. “Lemme know if you want a ride, sweetheart. Them blue pills are easy to get.” He turned and winked at you.

[ddejavvu]

you join the team and hangman gets real shy with you and everyone is like

:O what have you done :O

and you're like

idk

and hes just like heart eyes

bc i LIVE for hangman being whipped and all nervous around his crushy wushy

MY LOVE MY LIGHT MY SAVING GRACE THANK YOU FOR THIS

--

Reassignment is a struggle. It's temporary, or, it's meant to be, but if things go well with your new team, you may be a permanent fixture. So you're a little nervous stepping onto the tarmac, all things considered.

You'd only managed to meet one person from your new squadron so far, a good-natured, kind man named Jake. He had seen you wandering along the hallway, directing you to Admiral Simpson's office when you'd explained your predicament. You don't spot him on the tarmac now, but you're not sure how many people are on the team.

There's a dark-haired woman that you can see, and she notices you, too. You aren't sure whether they've been shown pictures of you, but your last name is patched into your uniform and the helmet under your arm is branded with your callsign. A flash of recognition shows in her eyes, and she starts towards you.

"You're Y/N Y/L/N?" She quirks a brow, and you nod, smiling kindly.

"Nice to meet you," She grins, a brilliant expression on her pretty face, "I'm Natasha. Callsign Phoenix."

"Phoenix," You gush, "I like that. I'm supposed to join you for a hop today?"

"Yeah, we heard about that!" A man steps up beside you, cocky smirk on his face as he holds out a hand, "I'm Coyote. You're supposed to fly with Hangman, right?"

It wasn't ideal, being stuck in someone's backseat. You're used to flying, but this squadron wasn't in need of a new pilot, and you've been trained for both seats.

"Oh god," A man beside you groans, mustache a burnt red, "That's unfortunate. I'm, uh, Rooster. By the way."

You cock your head to the side, shaking his hand, "Rooster. What's wrong with that?"

"He's... difficult." A shorter man pipes up from your left, sticking his hand out, "Fanboy. He's just arrogant, that's all. He thinks he's the best, so it's hard to work with him if he feels like you're working against him. Hopefully he doesn't give you too much of a hard time."

Your heart sinks a little at the prospect of being paired with someone who didn't take kindly to partnership. You're resilient, sure, but there's only so much you can tolerate.

"Don't look now," Phoenix mumbles, leaning in close so no one can hear, "But he's coming out now. Just stand your ground, we can handle him if it gets too much."

You nod near-imperceptibly, waiting until you can hear the thunk of his boots on the asphalt before you spare him a glance. To your delight, the sweet, smiling face of Jake greets you, his cheeks already dusted a rosy hue.

"Y/N," He greets, southern drawl as sweet as sugar, "You're part of my squadron?"

"Your squadron," Rooster scoffs disapprovingly.

""You two know each other?" A tall man inquires, dark skin and pretty eyes, "I thought this was your first time here, Y/N."

"It is," You nod, exchanging a friendly smile with the man and glancing down at his name tag: Fitch, "But I ran into Jake yesterday in the hallway. He helped me to Admiral Simpson's office."

"Oh he did?" Fitch cocks his head to the side, a shit-eating grin thrown at Hangman, "Oh, that's so nice of you, Jake."

"I'm so glad you think that, Payback," Jake sneers, grin more menacing than any glare could be, "Now if you'll excuse us, Y/N and I should get comfortable with our new ride."

Jake crosses the rest of the tarmac until he's beside you, his hand coming to press against the small of your back just as it had yesterday. He's developing a habit of leading you around, and you reach his plane shortly, both of your names stamped on the side.

"I've never flown two-seater before," Jake admits, brushing a hand over his printed callsign, "This'll be interesting."

"Oh, why now?" You frown, fitting your helmet over your head, "What changed?"

"Uh," Hangman's eyes widen, and you think you've asked the wrong question. He answers, though, it's just sheepish.

"Admiral Simpson thinks it would be best if I had someone else with me in the air," He starts, choosing his words carefully, "Because he has observed some, uh- daring maneuvers from me. And he thinks that I might benefit from having someone else's safety to consider."

"You're too reckless," You realize, and you can't help but giggle, "So I'm your babysitter?"

"Let's not call it that!" Jake laughs, blush intensified, "Let's call it partners. Deal?"

"Deal," You grin, eyes twinkling similar to his own, "Partners."

"What the fuck?" Fanboy spits, watching from afar as Jake helps you into the jet, letting you grab his hand and brace your weight on his arm, "Did he get possessed, or something?"

"She hasn't slapped him yet," Rooster ponders, "He must be keeping himself in check."

"Is that Y/N?" Natasha turns where she hears Bob's voice nearing behind her, nodding with a growing smirk on her face.

"Yeah, that's her. And that's Hangman."

She points to Jake, who's leaning into your seat, concern evident on his face as he helps you adjust the position of your harness.

Bob's face falls, scrunching into a frown, "He's... helping her?"

"This is gonna get interesting, boys," Phoenix grins, eyes narrowed at Jake who's still grinning sweetly at you, "Hangman's got a crush."

[loves4ge]

celebrity!au, mlist for more celebrity gojo

you're not sure what to do with gojo satoru. not after your agent asks if you'd be in a publicity stunt centered around him. you've never done one before; after all, you're only an up-and-coming star.

before this movie, you were considered a nobody, just someone to fill in the background. you'd heard horror stories, absolute bloodbaths on set, rumors of things that happened that violated the geneva conventions. you suppose you were lucky to end up starring in a movie with a cast that was nothing short of nice.

and then there's gojo, your on-screen love interest. an a-list celebrity. he's been on the cover of every major magazine at least once. and maybe you sort of admire him (you'd never tell him that; his ego is already through the roof). i mean, who could blame you?

but right now, you're rethinking everything. sure, you're an actor, and a pretty darn good one, but you're inexperienced. your heart hasn't been hardened by the industry yet. if you take this opportunity, you know you'll get absolutely wrecked. really? fake dating gojo satoru?

your agent looks at you expectantly. "we won't go through with it if you don't want to. we're only doing this because of sukuna's dui, but the publicity team can come up with something else."

you don't really like sukuna; he has scary eyes. but there's something warm about him when he interacts with yuji. you feel bad.

"i'll do it."

BREAKING NEWS: GOJO SATORU AND CO-STAR Y/N ANNOUNCE THEY'RE DATING A WEEK BEFORE THE RELEASE OF THEIR NEW MOVIE.

"that's a wordy headline, isn't it?" gojo mutters, mostly to himself, as he sips on an iced latte. it's so white, it could be mistaken for milk.

"show me?" you ask softly, seated across from him in the mostly empty cafe. the paparazzi are obvious with their pictures, and you both strategically sit in places where you can be photographed.

gojo flips his phone around to show the article, stilling when your fingers brush against his hand as you take the phone from him. he shakes it off quickly and returns to his latte.

"oh wow, this is ridiculous. they think i've been dating you since the start of filming." you look up at him with big, round eyes and a smile as soft as clouds (gojo isn't sure where that analogy comes from; he's never touched a cloud).

"well, is it really that ridiculous?" his murmur is low as he leans back in his chair. he thought you were pretty from the start. did he come off as arrogant? oh no, now he'll never stop thinking about this.

"hm?" you look up, since you didn't hear his murmur clearly. he waves you off. and then you remember.

"um, you know, oh i feel so awkward saying this," your hesitation makes him straighten. his eyes are narrowed in concern, hands reaching out in comfort but never quite touching you.

"you can tell me anything, you know that," he says, maintaining eye contact with you which is hard considering you're trying to look anywhere but him.

"i was just, i know we have to kiss... at some point. but i would just, erm, i would like a heads up before. oh, well, before you do kiss me." gojo felt his heart explode about three times in the time it took you to finish that sentence. and his grin doubled. it stretched ear to ear like a goddamn cheshire cat.

you were still looking down, fidgeting with your hands when gojo dragged his chair to be nearer to you.

"hey? this is the heads up by the way." you barely have any time to react. you're about to protest, say something, anything when his lips touch yours.

it's a gentle touch. you've kissed him before, on set, but never like this. yeah, this is a performance too but it felt too real. there's no director counting down to time the kiss and the cameras are too far away for you to even notice them.

his hands tighten against your waist, and yours somehow make it to the back of his neck. then upwards, in his hair. he bites your lower lip, and you gasp, almost pulling back but he pulls you back in harder. this time his kiss is not so gentle.

the press is gonna have a field day with this.

[strawberrysainz]

about you. charles leclerc

“ snippets of times your paths cross. and how you begin to intertwine a little. / in which you, after many months, find your way back to him again. ”

charles leclerc x fem!reader

word count: 3.7k

strongly advise listening to ‘about you’ by the 1975 just for extra vibes idk

The first thing you think, as he gestures for you to lean into the window of his car - Andrea is holding up your red iPhone to take this picture you may have dreamed of since forever - is that he smelled very real.

It sounds ridiculous. Of course it does, but there is a significant way in which he smells like almond and vanilla scented something that makes you feel like you’re sixteen in your shower with your mum’s body wash she was gifted that in turn was for your own use (she liked soap bars instead).

And as the man smiles and counts down from three, you try to smile effortlessly- you will be showing this photo for years to come- but instead your grin is real, because he is real now, you will remember the smell, his smile, the soft lilt of his voice that you knew wasn’t his proper one.

“Thank you,” you say for a moment, sincere. The Sunday evening is early and welcome, his race win is fresh on everyone’s minds.

“And congratulations.” You add, as an afterthought, smiling. “I seem to have forgotten that.”

He falters for a moment - your casualness has seemed to startle him - and your friends are already pulling you away from the car, wanting to beat the traffic. Andrea hands your phone back and you lean a bit awkwardly over Charles to get it. Charles is staring at you with some sort of amusement, and as you shout a goodbye and a thank you, he waves with a grin as some boys run up to the car.

You laugh into the night air as you get into the taxi, staring at the photos, some candid, some not, of the two of you.

His smile is as big as yours, clearly ecstatic about his win still.

🍷🍝📷💋

A few months later - it’s summer - and you’re in Italy, hot nights and all the Aperol Spritzes are powering you through the days. You’re bundled up in the front seat of a little Volkswagen Beetle on your way to someone’s villa/winery when you notice two guys standing on the side of the road with a car that’s run out of petrol.

You gesture to your friend, and she sighs, and you pause the song and stick your head out of the yellow car. “Are you guys okay?” You say in that heavy accented English, and with a jolt you realise it’s Charles and Joris.

Your friend has realised too - she was at the Grand Prix with you that night - and Charles is staring at the two of you through those RayBans, a little laughing smirk on his face. “The car’s gone.“

“Are you sorting it out, or…?” You say, giggling a little; Joris looks very uncomfortable in the summer sun.

“Everyone’s closed. We called. It’s a Sunday.”

“Get in,” you say, sharing a glance with your friend, “Come have some lunch. One of our friend’s dad is a mechanic, we’ll see what he can do.”

You watch him debate with Joris silently, and then with a shrug they get in.

“This is Stella,” you say, smiling, and introduce yourself too. Charles’ face kind of squints with recognition. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

“I met you in Monaco the night you won,” you smile, kind of embarrassed, and he slaps his thigh, making a noise of recognition to be nice (but you know he doesn’t remember that interaction at all).

You nod and Stel talks to them for a while, talking about how lovely Italy’s been in August, and the road is winding away until you’re at Luca’s.

🍷🍝📷💋

You friend Luca is very drunk, you note, the flush on his cheeks and the lazy lilt to his voice are very apparent. When he recognises Charles - this friend group is F1 mad - he hugs him and runs away immediately to get him a drink.

You’ve let your friends take on the role of entertainment for the guests, opting to strip down to your bikini and hop in the pool. It’s a scorching hot day, and you lather on sun cream before relaxing with a spicy margherita in your hands.

Your girlfriends pounce, Stella telling the story of picking up the hitchhikers and one of them thinks she can “totally bag Leclerc” before you’re all called inside for the food.

Before you walk in, you slip on the pair of denim shorts you were wearing and some sandals. Charles has a drink in hand and is sitting at the table already, the pasta and homemade bread having been broken into. Stel pulls you in to sit opposite him and Joris, and you lean over to dish some salad while Charles discusses the watch on his wrist with one of your friends (it’s the car chase robbery story that went viral a few months ago). Joris watches on, looking a bit awkward, so you lean in and begin to make some conversation.

He gladly accepts the invitation to talk, and you launch into a conversation about the holiday he is on before getting stuck on the road. You realise Charles is watching you speak now, oddly engaged, and you look down at your food, cheeks hot.

“So you two were in Monaco, right? For the Grand Prix? How was it?” Charles says, smiling sort of amicably, and a rush of embarrassment engulfs you as you smile at him. “So good. We loved it.” You say, and Stella launches into a story about a weird man who sat next to you on the grandstand.

🍷🍝📷💋

You squeeze in to the middle of the backseat, between Charles and Joris: your bare legs brush against them both in a moment that has you scrunching your nose with disbelief, Luca’s dad rattles on in Italian in the passenger seat with a large petrol can in his lap.

Twenty minutes later, you’re back on the hill on the dark and you’re hugging Charles and Joris goodbye, waving them away. You blow a kiss and get back in the backseat, laughing, shaking your heads.

🍷🍝📷💋

Seven months later, the cold February air finds you in Milan as you walk by an open window. You’re here for work, for Fashion Week, and you drift between fashion houses and shows, writing about them, chatting to models and designers and curators and it’s all so elegant, fun and exciting.

Next on your list is Ferrari’s show in the early evening, looking down to your list, and the waitress brings over your drink in the cosy restaurant.

Sitting on a cold hard (concrete?) bench across from the runway, you’re sitting between to an influencer with the most gorgeous pink jacket you’ve ever seen and an old fashionable Italian man with leathery tanned skin (how is he so tan?), and you launch into conversation with him about his experience this week so far, making notes. The show is as good as it could get for the brand, their classic leather, green and red and yellow ensembles with some gems in between that you adore. It’s alright, you think, it’s average, and just as you’re debating leaving someone roars in Italian and holy shit, Charles Leclerc and Carlos Sainz are walking down the runway.

You immediately begin to laugh a little under your breath, taking some pictures, and as Charles passes your side the girl next to you tries not to shout.

They look pretty cool, you think - all leather pants and shirts and vests, stuff you think they could use a little more of for their everyday fashion. You cheer along with everyone else as Carlos blows a kiss when they leave, laughing a little.

🍷🍝📷💋

You’re just about to leave when a girl comes up to you and engulfs you in a hug, and you tentatively grip her back before looking back, only then relaxing. She’s from university, she eagerly recounts memories of 1st year linguistics class. She hands you a glass of champagne and invites you back to the after celebration, and with a shrug - it can’t hurt, right? - you follow, being led into a room at the back.

It smells like too much cologne, and you scrunch your nose as you find a stray canapé to munch on when Joris calls your name.

Of course he’s standing there, and you run over to give him a hug.

“My saviour!” He jokes, and you laughed, staying by his side to have a chat. You can’t believe he even remembered you. You’re chatting about your latest projects when you’re interrupted by a hand on your shoulder. It’s Charles and Carlos, and Charles has to stare at you for five seconds to figure out who you are before he says your name, squeezing your shoulder. You stand there, rocking on your high heels for a second before he introduces you to Carlos.

“She saved me and Joris in Italy last summer when our car ran out of petrol, we had lunch at their friend’s house.”

Carlos laughs a little when Joris chips in. You’re staring at someone walking past in a great pair of red leather pants when Joris taps your arm.

“We still have to pay you back for last year. Do you want to go for dinner with us?”

Now Carlos’ girlfriend, Rebecca, has turned up, achingly beautiful, and Carlos introduces you and you kiss cheeks before she nods and says she’s so hungry too.

So you end up in a big black car, and Charles is phoning the restaurant and they don’t have a table for 5pm until he does a subtle name drop and then they magically do. Italy has a big love for him, their il predestinato. When you all pull up, there are a lot of people milling about outside, in sparkly dresses and sweatpants, lots of makeup and bare-faced, and you spot Suki Waterhouse when you walk in.

They give you a spot near the back, the brown wall making the space warm as you and Rebecca slide in to the booth.

They order aperitifs and you all chat about what you’ve been seeing this fashion week, the boys’ experience walking, and then you talk to Rebecca about her life for a while.

Then you all order seafood, and it’s delicious and tastes like it’s been made with joy and love.

“I still feel like we have to repay you,” Charles says, catching your attention, and you laugh and shrug the idea away. “This dinner’s lovely. It’s okay.”

“Can I give you and … -“ Joris murmurs to him, “Stella nice tickets to Monaco? Or Monza? Is that fine?”

“Monaco,” Joris nods, and Charles looks at him then back to you. “Really, it’s the least we can do.”

You are busy turning down the offer when Charles shakes his head. “Sorry. See you in May.”

🍷🍝📷💋

You and Stella giggle gleefully as you hear the little sound of your card authorising your access to the paddock. The two of you intertwine arms, walking down. You walk around, peering at everyone supposedly trying to get on with their business in the Thursday morning.

You send a text to Joris, and you just keep walking around for twenty minutes until he replies and says he’s sent someone to come get you. It’s a woman, and she has a lovely smile and she takes you to the hospitality - it’s upstairs, because the paddock is so small in Monaco, and you two have a glass of champagne before Joris appears, slightly sweaty. He’s just got here, he explains, him and Charles - they were slightly held up by fans.

You and Stella laugh and hug him.

🍷🍝📷💋

You spent the day just talking with Joris and other people in the hospitality about their jobs. It’s genuinely the best experience, and it’s nearing 6pm when everyone starts closing up and you are standing near the entrance/exit of the paddock, Stella in the bathroom when Charles comes up to you.

You’re on your phone when you hear him walk up, and you look up with a smile. You haven’t seen him since that dinner - three months ago - and when he pulls you into a hug you feel a rush of energy (electricity?) flow through you. His smile is big and bright.

“How was your day?” You ask, fiddling with your phone case, and he sighs dramatically. “Busy. Monaco is always crazy.”

You nod.

“How was yours?”

“So great. The people in your team are so wonderful. I had a really lovely day.”

Your dress swishes in the wind and you see him cast a glance down at your exposed legs before meeting your eyes again. “Me and Joris are going to do pasta tonight. Do you want to come over for it?”

“Stella’s still here…” you say awkwardly. “I’m not sure what she wanted to do, she mentioned going out.”

“Oh.” He nods. “Ok.”

Stella comes back from the bathroom and she smiled at Charles. “I never got to say thanks for this trip, it’s been great so far.”

Charles smiles at her. “No problem.”

🍷🍝📷💋

Friday comes and goes, a slightly uneventful day (you don’t see Charles, he’s too busy with the practices and the press) and there you are on a rainy Saturday morning.

Stella insisted on hiring a bicycle to get the ‘authentic experience’ so the two of you are busy cursing the weather in plastic rain jackets as you whiz down the streets on bright green bikes.

Your cheeks flush with embarrassment when you see that Charles and Andrea getting off their bikes as you arrive. He notices you, sodden like a wet rat, your nice jeans probably ruined, and giggles in the pouring rain, coming over to help you off your bike and give you an awfully cold hug. His arms wrap around you and you feel him kiss your cheeks, so you return them, but you’re shivering so much he keeps his arms around you until the same nice lady from Thursday comes with an umbrella and takes you inside. You wave goodbye to Charles as he goes to the garage and you blush, your hair soaked still.

The woman takes you and Stella to a tiny little room with cupboards and points to a drawer that contains a hairdryer and a Dyson airwrap (to your delight) so the two of you end up hair-drying yourselves dry - jeans and all. You also get to touch up your makeup after you dry your bag with the hairdryer too.

Nice and warm, you’re given cappuccinos and you peer out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the track, and see the boats rock in the harbour due to the rain and the wind.

“I don’t think we’ll have qualifying on time at this rate,” another man comments, also a guest of Ferrari, and you and Stella nod, trying to seem up to speed with track condition information.

So an hour later the two of you get to watch the boys film a YouTube video, and part of a vlog they seem to be making.

Afterwards, Charles comes over with Joris, and the four of you chat for twenty minutes before Charles is called away. It’s soft conversation, irritating talk about the weather because of the people around you, so you’re glad to change the topic when he leaves.

“What are your plans for tomorrow evening?” Joris comments. There’s a big party, you’ve heard from the groups of rich and famous people, happening on this gigantic yacht tomorrow, but you haven’t scored an invite so you might just go clubbing. But that sounds embarrassing, so you shrug. “Not sure yet.”

“You have to come to this big party an old friend of Charles is hosting. It’s on this yacht and everyone will be there.”

You and Stella fistbump under the table.

“And what are you guys doing tonight? Charles said you guys were having pasta last night.”

Joris looks a little surprised for a moment then quirks his lips in thought. “Probably not anything. He likes to be alone the night before the race. But last year we did this little dinner at his brother’s house which ended up being really nice.”

You nod.

Qualifying is postponed until five o’clock, and you’re taken to the paddock club by someone to be able to stand at the top and peer down at the track.

The rain has quietened down, yet there’s a lot of tyre warfare, teams mistakenly putting on hards before spinning out so there’s a red flag or two before Q3.

You watch the big screens to see Max score pole, and with a wince Charles is only third.

It’s highly upsetting because of how crucial qualifying is for Monaco. So everyone supporting Ferrari (Carlos is sixth) lets out a heavy sigh before going back to the hospitality.

🍷🍝📷💋

It’s 8 now, the sky dimming, and Stella has plans to see an old school friend so you hang around the hospitality, dreading taking the stupid bike back to the hotel.

There’s an energy in the air tonight, the kind you only get in a different place at night. It’s that kind of powerful feeling. You’re talking to one of the chefs as they all finish their service for the night when Charles comes to pick up food, and you’re surprised to see him when he comes to stand next to you.

“Hi,” you say softly, smiling when the chef you’re talking to launches himself at Charles for a hug, speaking rapid French.

“Where’s Stella?” He asks, and he’s checking how his food looks through a peek at the polystyrene container when you reply. “She has plans with another friend tonight.”

“So what’re you doing?” He looks up at you.

“Avoiding taking the bike back to the hotel, then I’ll probably have dinner there.”

“If you ride that stupid big bicycle 5km back to the hotel now at night and in the rain alone I’m going to kill you.” His expression is one of concern.

You laugh as he laughs too, his cheeks warming.

“I’ll get someone to come pick it up, I know they work at the company. Please let me take you somewhere for some food?”

“Don’t you want to wind down before the race?” You ask, uncertain.

He shakes his head. “You won’t be a bother.” He says quietly, and you blush, looking down at the floor.

So you two leave, and he’s got a car waiting for him, and you sprint from the hospitality because the rain’s started to pour again.

🍷🍝📷💋

You have to stop at his apartment so he can drop off the food that he now probably won’t eat and so he can change out of his garishly red clothing to be a little more discreet.

You two stand alone in the lift, and you look at him in the mirror for a moment before your eyes meet and he looks away.

His apartment is immediately cosy in the way a man just has stuff everywhere. He has a coat of his mom’s you can borrow after he noticed you shiver when you got out of the car, and when he hands it to you the look on his face is so tender you feel a little anxious.

Going back down, you stand a little closer and get back in the car. He smells comforting now, like that cologne you once caught a whiff of one hot Italian summer day.

Scrolling through your feed, your phone lights up the car and he gets a call from his mom, talking softly in French to her.

You lock your phone. The driver tells you to connect to the aux via Bluetooth and you freeze up with anxiety. But when you start with a Fleetwood Mac song Charles is mouthing the words silently as he texts someone so you relax.

Because of traffic, it takes you forty minutes to get to this restaurant tucked away on a quiet street. Charles opens your door for you.

Entering, the maître d’ is an elderly woman and she hugs Charles so tight. You stand there behind him and she comes to hug you too. She seats you two far away from the door after he asks.

“I think you should get pasta. It’s unreal here.” He says, after you’ve both ordered water.

You smile. “What are you eating?”

“Probably just a chicken salad. Have to stay in order for tomorrow,” he says.

You roll your eyes. “I’m not eating pasta if you have to eat a salad. That’s sad.”

You then bicker for ten minutes until the woman - Gilda - comes back. You make him order first - a chicken Parmesan salad - and then order the same and he shoots you a look (he thought he convinced you to order the pasta).

🍷🍝📷💋

After supper you leave in the drizzle, and he takes your arm and loops it through his. His arm is so warm, and you end up leaning your head against the beginning of his shoulder as you stand against the wall, waiting for the driver again.

He turns his head to say something to you, then stares at you for a second. He then leans down to whisper something in your ear and you giggle and then he’s moved to face you properly.

You’re anxiously biting your lip because he’s looking at you like you hang the stars in the sky and you feel terribly awkward and then he leans down and kisses you and he tastes like Parmesan so you laugh in the kiss.

You feel his body shake with laughter beneath your touch and his body is warm even in the drizzle. And when you kiss his lips make your whole body fire up. And his hand is gripping your waist through his mother’s coat and his other hand is running through your slowly dampening hair and he groans and you’re electric.

You pull away when the driver drives up, flushed and awfully happy. His cheeks are pink and his eyes soft.

“Get in the car,” he murmurs softly, and when he opens the door he slides on to the backseat behind you and wraps a hand around your shoulder and everything feels perfect.

back from hibernation. hope you enjoyed!!!!

here’s my masterlist