#omegaverse naruto

[cannellee]

NARUTO OMEGAVERSE ☆

୨୧ alpha! naruto au x omega! reader (f)

— what they would give you as a courting gift (pairing : naruto, shikamaru, sasuke, itachi, rock lee, neji)

my masterlist : ☆

ALPHA! NARUTO

naruto is a joyous and energetic person, his gift are as vibrant as him. in order to court you, he would definitely take you out on some dates. ichiraku ramen sounds like the perfect place to begin his courting! it's a place which holds countless of precious memories for him and he wants you to get to know him better. he's someone who speaks his mind, so I think he'll really talk openly about his desires and interests in you, it's one of the rare times he's being serious and it's truly a sight to see.

onto a more materialistic approach, naruto will 100% gifts you plushies. he thinks it's an adorable way to connect the both of you. extra points if the plushie is the effigy of kurama! he will sometimes scent it, sometimes not. it all depends on how you react to them, he'll pay attention to your reactions and decides if that was the right move.

I also think naruto will choose a more natural and spontaneous courting, surprising you with cute and funny outings. helping you escape at night so you can both see the stars together. he'll throw cute notes at you to cheer you up during class...

overall, naruto just wishes to spend more time with you, make you laugh and smile. he really considers your happy face as a reward, it literally makes his day. he wants the both of you to know each other and grow closer.

ALPHA! SASUKE

now sasuke is definitely more reserved in his approach and less explicit about his feelings for you. nonetheless, he won't stay on the sidelines and let other alphas steal you from him. I don't think he'll give you gifts at the very beginning, he's prudent and will first and foremost test the waters by subtly scenting you at times and assess your reaction. if he considers it a green light, he'll start acting more assertive. probably a few stargazing sessions to begin with and when you start to get closer, he'll be more possessive about his courting.

I think he would give an item related to his clan. it could be a luxurious silk robe with the uchiha crest at its back. he would love to see you wear it, in his mind, it serves as a symbol of unity and pride, having his omega wear that would reinforce the seriousness of your relationship along with solidifying his potential claim on you.

in the same spirit, later into the courting, sasuke would gift you a uchiha clan heirloom. that way, he puts you under his protection and his claim on you is now strong and clear, serving as a warning to all alphas that you're his. its strengthens your bond as it's a deep acknowledgment of the importance your hold in his life.

and in fact, sasuke's gift serves as a proof of his commitment to you and your relationship and it feels reassuring to know that he considers you as a member of his clan.

ALPHA! SHIKAMARU

as expected of shikamaru, he has a pretty good understanding of omegas' nature and will therefore, make pretty good gifts. he has a pretty laidback behaviour, this is why I think he wouldn't want to make courting seems too ceremonial and will adopt a more casual approach. oh you're cold ? here's his jacket, scented. you don't even have to ask, shikamaru is just great at making things seem so normal. you mentioned you liked soft items ? here's a cute blanket he bought today, no it's not really a gift, just a thanks for spending the day with him. and it's just that. of course if you're careful you'll catch him blushing if he sees you snuggling his scarf, it's redolent with his pheromones and he's pleased to see you look so safe.

other than that, it's mainly lazy indoor dates. just you taking a few naps, progressively getting closer to each other until you eventually fall asleep on his chest.

overall, shikamaru likes to do things according to your tastes and doesn't want his courting to seem unnatural and bizarre. he tries his best to be his usual self while also trying not to get too shy, surprisingly.

ALPHA! ROCK LEE

lee is a great alpha, always cheering you on. he's very open about his love for you and he just needs you to give in. of course he knows you're more reserved and needs more time to get to know him before you can make a decision. that's why he's so patient and devoted to you during the courting process. flowers, cheesy love notes, wood sculptures with your initials... with lee it's never ending and you're always surprised with what he was able to come up with.

he will give you gifts, but he'll also often take you out on dates for fun adventures, at least that's what he calls them. genuinely thinks rock climbing & hiking are the best ideas. if he discovers you're not sporty at all, don't worry! lee is more than happy to carry you around, take your hands to help you walk through a particularly tricky path and asks you if you need a break every five minutes. he takes it as his chance to prove to you how alpha, how reliable he is. how much his unwavering determination and passion are yours only.

probably will try cooking snacks, like cookies or brownies but I don't think he's that much of a cook so it'll end up messy. you'll have to console him about this fail attempt and reassure him that you can be the one cooking for him instead!

ALPHA! NEJI

neji is a great observer, he has your tastes and hobbies all figured out and he knows how to choose the perfect gifts. he is very gentle with the omega he is trying to court and his gifts are as thoughtful as you can imagine. small accessories! after assessing what you like, he'll settle on a small hairpin with soft colours, which compliment your eyes. jewelry as well! a subtle bracelet, a ring or anything, just to remind you that he thinks about you all the time. it's a way to show people that you too are connected and that neji is already pursuing you, the others can back off.

he knows you're sensitive to smells, so probably a few candles with sweet fragrant and cute designs. perfumes? (or insence burner) as long as he likes the smell, he's buying. he loves to know you're wearing the scent he has chosen for you, it's like a pre-mark. it's not his scent yet but it's only a matter of time.

however, neiji will not force things, you'll wear his pheromones yes, but only when you feel ready and you have completely accepted him.

a delicately sewed kimono, or an item you'll be able to wear more easily, like a scarf, gloves... but! his favourite courting gift and the gift which really sealed your relationship is the cute pendant around your neck, carrying a piece of his cloth so that you always smell like him. it's subtle, but enough for the time being, he'll have plenty more time later to scent you profusely!

ALPHA! ITACHI

to. provide.

this man's main goal is to provide for you and to show you he can do it. he's reliable and he's desperate to have a chance with you. please notice him.

while getting to know him, you'll get plenty of nest items, scented of course. a lot of blankets, a few pillows and some of his clothes, he'll give it all to you. he'll even help you build your nest if you let him, he's not so sure about what he's doing but he's attentive and learns fast so you can count on him!

he'll get you food as well. you'll never be hungry with itachi. when you meet up, if he didn't already brought snacks with him, you can be sure he'll buy some later just for you. you paying isn't even a option.

just like his brother, he'll give you clothes you can wear on a daily basis with the uchiha clan crest on them. all that to assure your protection and to claim you, nobody wants to meet a jealous uchiha anyways.

he's a bit quiet at times so he'll use notes to share his feelings. it's always really touching and delicate, you know he means it.

[madammidnightsblog]

Omega’s Heats

Omega Naruto

Warning: female alpha with a dick. Sex and shit like that

His heats are irregular and hits very strong which always leaves him weak and incapable to move on his own really

Poor Naruto is stuck having to rely on his alpha but that makes it easier for his alpha, making him free to drag around and bend in any position his alpha desire

He personally loves having his alpha under him and helping him bounce until their knot is buried in his sopping hole

He wants to be taken in a public area so any alpha, omega, or beta finds him being a needy whore for his alpha and forced to stare at them as he cums

Please please please make him cockwarm until his is babbling incoherently about being fucked until he is full his alpha’s cum and squirming

Huge on breeding

Wants, no needs, to be full and round with your pups

Rocking his hips and purring out ‘alpha’ and acting like a whore whenever he gets on top

His alpha will have his legs against his own shoulders and their dick buried deep into his ass but he will cry it won’t be enough, being a needy slut that can’t make up his mind on how he wants to be fucked

Even though he wants to fuck in public, he will cry and beg to be in his nest so he can be comfortable and keep you all to himself

Will say anything to get his alpha mad and fuck him until he passes out

[tired-biscuit]

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

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

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

Finding peace in the spontaneous wild (that is you)

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

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

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

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

wc: 26.2k

find part two here!

———

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But that’s all gone now.

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

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

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

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

But so does Kiba.

And so do you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

And new means foreign.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

———

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

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

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

And then there’s the shallow breathing.

Oh, yeah. Right. 

Kiba’s sick. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

3:27 PM.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stop worryin’ so much.”

You blink in surprise. “Mm?”

“I said stop worryin’.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that makes you care for him even more.

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

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

“Are you, though?” you ask. “Fine?”

“Are you?”

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

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

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

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

Continuously.

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

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

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

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, wait, that’s not what I meant—”

“Nu-uh, you said it so you meant it!”

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

Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump! 

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

But you don’t feel like listening right now.

“Hey, what’re you—”

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

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

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

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

It’s concerning.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

———

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

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

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

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

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

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

So you bite.

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

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

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

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

So he stares at you now. Leers. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just like a predator would do to potential prey.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re free to move again. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

As if that hasn’t happened before.

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

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

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

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

“I mean, it wouldn’t hurt to try.”

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

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

“Right back atcha.”

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

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

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

Is it because you’re nervous?

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

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

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

It feels like life is repeating itself all over again.

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

Well, that’s new.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What? It’s just a name, isn’t it?”

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

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

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

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

“Nothin’.”

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

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

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

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

You quirk a brow. “Am I really, now?”

“Who else but you?”

It’s always been you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You object to his genuine affection like an idiot. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s gotten… complicated.

Much like your entire friendship has.

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

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

“Like what?” he asks. As is regret.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“I know,” you repeat. “I’m sorry.”

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

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

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

“Do what?” you ask dumbly.

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

“Today?”

“Did I fuckin’ stutter?”

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

Fucking hell, he’s actually serious about this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What about ‘em?”

“I don’t have those either.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“‘Course,” he says.

“Say it, then.”

“Say what?”

“That you promise.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously!”

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

Even you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why is it so intense?

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

“What, I really did!”

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

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

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

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

———

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

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

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

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

It’s nice to be able to breathe again. 

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

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

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

He wants to devour you.

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

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

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

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

“Kiba?”

“Huh?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh,” he fumbles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, I’m joking.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, don’t do that; I’ll fall!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nothing’s really changed, now has it?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well—”

“Don’t answer that!”

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

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

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

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

“But I don’t wanna.”

“Well, I don’t give a shit.”

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

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

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

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

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

It only makes you angrier.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean by that?” you ask.

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

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

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

But it’s a start.

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

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

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

Thump, thump, thump!

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

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

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

“You’re sure?”

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

Thump, thump, thump, thump!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What an idiot.

———

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

God, you were so alluring to him. You still are.

“Oh.” Ouch. You don’t realize that you take his words the wrong way, so they sting you in the place where your heart supposedly lies. Nevertheless, you still manage to smile like the brave girl you’re trying to be as you say, “Well, luckily for you; you won’t have to, because I haven’t ovulated in like three years or so, hah.”

He perks up as his eyes shift back to you. “What’s that supposed t’mean?”

You shake your head, wishing to move on from the conversation but this time he strangely persists, pestering you to give him an answer even if he’d been the one acting weird about it earlier.

So you finally oblige, “Well, uh, I’m on birth control.”

He tilts his head to the side like a dog. “Why?”

Your brow furrows. “What do you mean ‘why’?”

He looks at you like you’re dumb. “Why are you on birth control?”

“Because I don’t want to get pregnant while having sex…?” you trail off. “Isn’t that supposed to be obvious?”

His eyes widen, dark brows shooting up so high that they could touch his hairline. “You’re fucking someone?”

Now is your turn to be taken aback. “I-I mean… I used to, yeah.”

Displeasure turns Kiba’s stomach into a pit of despair. He realizes that he’s not very fond of the idea of someone touching you like that. “When? And who?”

“I’m not telling you that!”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to talk to you about my sex life!”

“Why not?” he repeats, still oddly intrigued, almost nosy. “I can tell you all ‘bout mine if you tell me ‘bout yours.”

“Hell no.” You whip your head forward, glaring into the fire whilst grabbing the nearby stick that you used to roast — or should you say burn — your marshmallows with before. Poking the embers with it, the frown that’s on your lips only deepens now as you watch the sparks dance up into the night sky. “Thanks for the offer, but I think I’ll pass on listening to you talk about all your failed sexual conquests.”

He chuckles with what you think is amusement, but the sound is oddly strained. “What makes you think that they’re failed ones?”

You purse your lips. “Well, you’ve broken up with Tamaki, didn’t you?”

“I broke up with Tam for other reasons,” he mutters, his smile wavering for a slight second. “The sex had nothin’ to do with it.”

You don’t want to tread these waters and besides, it’s better to keep things light. So you sit straighter as you stick your tongue out at him, taunting, “Or maybe it’s just your insanely small dick that’s to blame, did you ever think about that?” 

“Oh, yeah, bet. It’s definitely small, all right.” Kiba huffs a laugh at your jab. And then he leans slightly closer; not too close, but just enough for the proximity to feel slightly more intimate than platonic. 

His pupils are so big that they remind you of two vortexes as he whispers, “Wanna take a look just to make sure?”

Sinful thrill erupts within your gut at the closeness and his rather sly comment. It shakes you to your core even if you don’t want it to. So with your train of thought becoming all fucked up and wacky all of a sudden, you turn away from facing him, feeling the heat from the fire kiss your already much too-warm cheeks.

With your voice merely above a murmur, you sound like you’re almost out of breath as you utter, “You’re so gross.”

“Eh,” he shrugs and crosses his arms behind his head as he pushes further back against the log you’re both leaning against with the provided comfort of your backpacks. “You’re used to it.”

“What I am,” you say, side-eyeing him, “is traumatized.”

“Oh, boohoo.” He pretends to pout, closing his eyes, “Big bad Kiba keeps on bullying me. Poor, poor me.”

You giggle, poking the embers again. “Remember back when Sasuke used to bully you in elementary?”

“Tsch.” You watch as he clicks his tongue, his eyes still closed. “That Uchiha twink definitely did not bully me.”

“He kept on saying how your teeth were too big to properly fit inside your mouth.”

“Mhmmm,” Kiba drawls, crossing one ankle over the other. His eyelids flutter open slightly, the orange glow from the fire further complimenting his tan skin and dark hair. “And then, if memory serves right, I bit him for it.”

“And then you bit him for it, yes,” you echo, stifling another giggle. It makes your shoulders shake as you tug on the sleeves of your oversized hoodie. “Oh my gosh, remember how pissed Mr. Umino got at you for that?”

“I think I got like two weeks of detention for it,” he drawls. “It was worth it though... I never liked Sasuke all that much for some reason.”

“No, I think it was more like three weeks than it was two? Because I remember having to walk back home from school all alone every day and thinking how it was taking ages.”

“Yeah?” He turns slightly so that he can look at you from the corner of his eye. “You actually remember that?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” you ask.

“Uh,” he blinks, his expression turning blank. “‘Cause instead of paying attention to the pain and suffering of your best friend, you were probably way too busy actin’ annoyingly obsessed with Sasuke, just like every other girl was doing in our year?”

“What?” Your eyebrows knit together at this newly-acquired information. “I wasn’t obsessed with him!”

Kiba turns to give you a look that outright spells bullshit.

“Come on,” you glance at him, head hanging low. “Don’t gimme that look.”

“What look?” he answers, still giving you that exact look.

“The one that makes me feel like I’m lying.”

The corners of his lips quirk upward. “But you are lying.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Ugh.” You scoff, playing with the strings on your hoodie. “Fine, maybe I did have a little crush on him. You can’t really blame me for it, though! Sasuke was, like… devastatingly pretty, okay?”

“So that’s your type, huh?” he asks, his foot dancing along the rhythm of a silent song you probably don’t know. “Pretty boys? Sorry, devastatingly pretty boys?”

“I don’t have a type,” you counter, ignoring his jab.

“Sure you do.”

“I seriously don’t.”

“Everyone has a type, though.”

“Not me.”

Kiba falls silent for a moment as he stares into the fire. You pass the time by watching the flames dance across his cheekbones; along the dangerously sharp line that is his jaw. His eyelashes are thick and long, and the curve of his nose is delicate and slightly upturned at the end.

He looks like he’s still deep in thought by the time he finally says, “Well, maybe you just haven’t found it yet. Your type, I mean.”

“Yeah,” you reply, unable to stop staring at his side profile. “Maybe.”

Or maybe, just maybe, your type is right in front of your nose.

———

What you also learn after stomping out the campfire and clambering inside the tent that night, is that even though you’ve slept in the same bed countless of times before, the entire ordeal is much different now that your best friend has gotten bigger.

Because instead of laying beside you like he used to do back in the day when you were kids, Kiba somehow ends up fully surrounding you this time.

He’s everywhere all at once, his presence and that warm amber scent filling every last inch of the small tent you’re both currently residing in. Being so close to him, practically wrapped in his embrace and with your back firmly pressed against his chest, feels oddly familiar even if it’s currently being executed for the sole purpose of keeping you warm throughout the night.

But it’s not quite the same, now that you’re adults, now is it? 

It’s almost… inappropriate. In some way at least.

“Should’ve brought warmer clothes with ya, bunny,” he mumbles at some point, his face so close that you can feel the warmth of his breath brushing the back of your neck. “You’re practically shiverin’.”

His drawl — even more prominent now that you think he’s half-asleep — makes your blood want to boil, and not out of anger. He talks to you like he’s trying to get into your panties, but you know that that’s not the case. 

He’s made it pretty fucking clear that he wants nothing to do with you with the whole ‘being too upfront’ situation earlier, after all.

So you take a deep breath to calm yourself — and hopefully whisk the confusing thoughts away that are doing more harm than good — before you murmur, “Yeah, and whose fault is that?”

He chuckles as he gives your stomach a single stroke, the sound lazy and laid-back just like the movement is. “Mm… I believe it’s mine.”

“No shit.” You sigh as you curl yourself tighter and shift even closer to his chest that is providing you with all this heavenly warmth you simply can’t get enough of. “God, I can’t believe that I’ve let you talk me into going camping in just my leggings and an old hoodie… I knew I couldn’t trust you.”

“Hey, now,” he objects, “you can trust me. I just forgot that regular humans can’t handle the cold as well as I can.”

“If I could trust you, I wouldn’t be freezing my ass off in the middle of the woods right now, Kiba!” You whine, annoyed. “Ugh, you’re always so reckless and never stop to think things through. Nothing’s changed.”

“That’s fair, I suppose,” he mutters into the dark, lips a firm line of seriousness. He always finds you so cute whenever you get pissy and say his name like that, but something with your sentence doesn’t sit right with him this time. “But I’m trying to fix it, aren’t I?”

“Well, so far you’re not doing that good of a job,” you pout in answer. “I’m still cold.”

Silence settles between you for a couple of moments. The only sound you can hear, or should you rather say feel, is the strong beating of his heart as it drums against your spine.

It turns a bit erratic by the time he says, “I’ve got an idea.”

You roll over to look at him. “What kind of idea?”

“Hear me out,” he says. “How about you take off your—”

Nearly choking on your own saliva, you try to ignore the way his quickening pulse makes your tummy tighten as you rush to cut him off with a high-pitched, “No!”

“Just hear me out, will ya?” Kiba’s voice fades into nothing as he rests his chin on the top of your head. He’s mumbling as he says, “If you get undressed, it’ll be easier to—”

“Nope! Nope, nope, nope,” you squeak out, quickly shaking your head, making him pull back slightly. “Absolutely not.”

“But you didn’t even let me finish!”

“And I don’t need to, because I know exactly where this is going,” you chide, brow furrowing so prominently that there’s a small v etching itself into your forehead, now. “I am not getting naked with you under the pretense of sharing body heat.”

No way in hell are you about to fall for one of his jokes again. They just leave you hanging in the end, looking desperate.

“Oh, c’mon; why not?” he says, voice so genuinely curious that it almost makes him sound innocent and free from any intent to scheme whatsoever. His fingers dig deeper into your hoodie as he adds, “I mean, it’s not like I haven’t already seen all your bits and pieces before.”

You push away from him so that you can face him instead, supporting yourself with the help of your palms. The inside of the tent is dark, so dark that you can barely see the outline of him, but you just know that he’s smiling; the little shit.

“Those bits and pieces, as you’ve so kindly called them, have changed a lot since we’ve last shared a kiddie pool, Ki,” you mumble, feeling heat growing up your neck and down your middle. It takes all the effort in the world to not let it slip to that tingly place between your legs, especially because there’s a calm rumble of a laugh thundering inside his chest, now.

“It’ll warm you up faster,” he pushes. “That’s all I want, I swear.”

“No thanks,” you refuse, fighting the urge to not shrivel up and simply die from embarrassment. “I’m perfectly content with waiting for your wolfy heat to reach me through the many, many layers of our clothes.”

“You sure?” he asks. “‘Cause it’s gonna be a long night.”

“Yep.”

“Absolutely sure?”

“Yes!” You squeeze his arm, digging your nails into his dark green hoodie as if in warning before you turn your back towards him again and shuffle closer. “Now shut up and go to sleep already.”

“‘Kay,” he relents at long last, sighing. “Suit yourself.”

“I sure plan to, thank you very much!”

“Aha.”

He’s uncharacteristically quiet as he settles back into the folds of your unzipped sleeping bags that you’ve overlapped just so that you can be conjoined together into a mess of limbs. And as a result, the silence to follow is so heavy. It succeeds in making you jittery as hell, as if the chill didn’t help with that already.

“Stop moving around so much, I’m tryin’ to sleep,” he fusses by the time it’s your third time switching positions and pushing further up against him. Unlike before, he sounds like he’s actually agitated now.

“I can’t help it if I’m cold,” you whine, rubbing your feet against his calves. 

The feeling of your socks gaining friction against his sweatpants is nice for you from the way it steadily creates warmth, however for Kiba it’s an annoyance that seemingly has no end.

It’s the reason as to why his tone comes across as an irked hiss when he says, “Yeah, well, that’s not my problem, now is it?” 

“But it is,” you reply, still running the soles of your feet up and down his legs. “You were the one who kept on saying that a hoodie would be just fine to wear.”

“No, I– Can you stop doing that already?!” He grunts, poking you in the side and causing you to jump. “You know damn well how much the whole feet thing pisses me off.”

“Well, wanna know what pisses me off?”

“What?”

“Being so cold that my teeth are practically chattering.”

“All right, that’s it.”

Your breathing staggers in the back of your throat as you watch him sit up so that he can start taking his hoodie off. He reaches for the back of it, strong back flexing as he pulls it over his head and throws it into one corner that’s to your left.

The white t-shirt he wears underneath gets tugged along, riding up his spine slightly. And goddammit, it’s hard not to ogle at him; hard not to leer at all the tight, defined lines of muscle paired with the contrasting smoothness of tan skin, at how his dark hair tickles the nape of his neck now that it’s all ruffled. 

But maybe if you’re sneaky with it, he won’t be able to tell? And besides, it’s pretty dark anyway and—

“Stop staring,” he says like he’s reading your mind. “There’s drool drippin’ at the corner of your mouth already.”

You gulp in response to being caught by his exceptional night vision. The sound is loud and embarrassing as it travels down your throat, at least that’s what you’re thinking. 

“I wasn’t— God, you’re so pretentious,” you manage to let out. “I’m just trying to figure out what you’re doing, you prick.”

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m getting undressed,” he replies casually as he repeats the same set of movements and takes his T-shirt off as well. “And judging by how much you’re complaining about the cold, I suggest you do the same before you freeze to death.”

You bite into the inside of your cheek to stop your upper lip from trembling with stress. “I already told you that I’m not doing that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to.”

Something changes inside him at your denial. It makes him sound more tense as he says, “Can you please stop making a fuss for once and just do it?”

“No.”

“C’mon.”

“No, Kiba.”

“Fine, then freeze,” he quips, suddenly snappier than usual. His blood feels like it’s simmering. Wait, has it always been this hot in here?

Upset, cold and sticky, flashes throughout your chest at his seemingly careless words. “Okay, maybe I will.”

“Fine.”

“Fine!”

You glare at each other, fire and ice present in a single look.

“For fuck’s sake,” he says, trying to tame the persistent flutter of a muscle in his cheek that just won’t go away now. “Why do you gotta be so stubborn all the time? It’s like you’re actively searching for reasons to fight with me every chance you get.”

“That’s not true. You just don’t like it when I don’t comply with what you want,” you spit back, narrowing your eyes. “You’re the stubborn one.”

Another beat of silence passes between you and he uses it to inhale a deep breath and exhale it out just as slowly. It looks like he’s trying to calm himself, fighting every urge not to snap at you again.

“I’m just looking out for you,” he counters finally, his features unbearably tight. “I want what’s best for you, that’s all.”

“Oh, please.” You force out a laugh that doesn’t come from the heart. “As if you know what’s best for me.”

“And you do?” He looks at you, brows raised in challenge. “‘Cause how the hell is getting sick just because you’re too big of a pussy to take your shirt off the thing that’s best for you?”

Your toes start to curl with irritation under the layer of the sleeping bag you’re still tucked into. “I’d rather be a pussy any day, than an obsessively controlling alpha asshole who can’t take a no for an answer.” 

“Oh, that’s rich, coming from the control freak herself,” he says, nearly copying the same bitter laugh you’ve let out earlier. “You’re talking as if you don’t start acting batshit crazy whenever a single thing doesn’t go the way you imagined it to go.”

How on earth did this turn into an actual argument so out of the blue? Is he actually that irritated that you refuse to undress? Or is there something else to blame for all of this?

Either way, things are escalating fast.

Your face feels hot from all the mixed emotions you’re experiencing as you draw your blade and stick it into the place where you know it hurts him the most because he’s done the same to you, “I might be a control freak… You’re just a freak.” 

“You wanna talk to me about being a freak?” He laughs again, quieter this time but the sound is cold and sharp as ice. “‘Cause how can you call me that, if back when I met you, no one could even stand the sight of you!” 

He sucks in one breath, two, three before he continues, unable to stop, “No one could even talk to you. Do you remember that? Not until I stepped in, at least. So call me a freak all you want if it makes you feel any better, princess, but at the end of the day, I was still the one who put you out there while all you did was feel sorry for yourself.”

“You didn’t do shit!” The anger that drops upon your unsuspecting mind is like a thick, red fog. It makes your voice rise higher as you say, “All you’ve been doing for all these years, is breathing down my neck!”

“It’s not like I fucking chose to do that, goddammit!” Kiba snaps, voice suddenly gruff, heart pounding. His pulse feels like it’s racketing behind his teeth as he grits them so hard it makes his jaw hurt. “I mean, do you actually think that I want to spend the rest of my life wondering where the fuck you are and what you’re doing, when you can’t even put in the effort to text me back? Do you think that I want to keep being your friend, when you don’t even—”

“I didn’t ask you to!” You push forward, getting all up into his face as hurt sears the inside of your chest, making it heavy. “I didn’t ask you to be my friend, I didn’t ask you to keep trying to stay in touch, I didn’t ask you to keep monitoring me like some fucking psycho! I didn’t ask you to do any of those things.”

“You not asking for it is not the fucking issue, all right!” His face contorts into a look of prominent displeasure, the bridge of his nose scrunching. It’s clear how much you’re pissing him off; it’s making him say things he otherwise wouldn’t.

“Then tell me what the issue is!” You inhale, your own breathing quick and unfulfilling from how emotional you’re getting. It feels like you can’t suck enough air into your lungs no matter how hard you try. “Enlighten me, Kiba, please! Because quite frankly, I have no freaking clue what you’re going on about right now.”

“The issue,” he finally says, eyes bleary with fury and disdain, “is that I’m stuck with you. And guess what, you get to leave. I can’t. You get to fuck off to the other side of the goddamn country completely unfazed after every summer, and I can’t despite trying, because I’m feeling every mile of distance that separates me from you and it makes me fucking sick!” 

The words are like a waterfall to spill from his mouth, he can’t stop them. “You get to meet new people, you get to befriend them and sleep with them and love them, all while every. Single. One of my relationships falls apart because I’m stuck thinking about you, and only you. I mean Jesus fucking Christ, I’m thinking about you whenever I go to sleep, when I go to the gym, when I go to work… I was even thinking about you every time I fucked my girlfriend, who is now my ex, thanks to you!”

He ceases, breathing hard through his nose now, opening his mouth to say something, then thinking better of it.

Meanwhile, every single muscle in your body goes weak, almost numb. His stare is feverish and remains glued to your face; it makes you feel like you’ll drop dead any second now despite the fact that your stomach is doing cartwheels and high-pitched white noise progressively fills your ears. 

If there wasn’t a humongous lump jammed inside your throat, you’d perhaps be able to tell how dry your mouth has turned all of a sudden. 

But you don’t. So it’s no wonder why your voice cracks as you at long last look at your childhood best friend, the person you’ve always trusted the most, and ask, “So, you’re in love with me? Is that what you’re trying to say?”

“Hah,” he snorts, the sound completely unenthusiastic. “I wish it was that simple.” 

“Then what else is there?”

“I’m bonded to ya, sweetheart.” His stare hardens. “You’re my mate. Always have been, always will be. Congrats.”

Thump, thump, thump!

“Mate?” Your heart nearly breaks your ribcage in half from how intensely it starts to pound at the word. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“It means… It means that I’ve longed for you ever since the first day I saw you, okay? God.” He groans, running his hand down his cheek, then the side of his neck. His skin has become so slick with sweat that it causes his fingers to glide. “And it means that I’ll still long for you no matter what you do, or how far away you go, or who you end up with... You’re a part of me. And I can’t do shit about it.”

His words make your head swim. It’s hard to concentrate because of it, the rising nausea only making things worse, but you still manage enough willpower to ask, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t—...” He inhales a long breath again, only one this time. And pulls a face you can’t read. “I didn’t want you to feel pressured by it… Like you were obligated to be with me or something, just ‘cause I was having a bad time.”

“So instead you decided to be my friend for all these years? So that I could have my chance at freedom and you’d still have a reason to be near me?” Disappointment flashes throughout your brain like lightning. You feel played. “Does that mean that our entire friendship was, like… just some ploy to help you get closer to me or whatever?”

“Fuck no.” His shoulders slump as he practically succumbs to the weight of his own body. The world feels like it’s spinning all of a sudden. “The bond had nothing to do with that; well, maybe at the start, but definitely not afterwards. I was your friend because you were actually cool to hang out with, despite being kind of a dork. Even if you were my mate, you were still smart, and nice, and… and…”

And it’s only then, when you close the gap between yourself and him to catch him, that you realize how high his body temperature has gotten. How his skin feels like it’s blazing underneath the tips of your fingers when you press your hand to his chest on pure instinct. How the blush that tints his cheeks is stark red; intense enough to even reach the tips of his ears and the base of his neck.

His blood has always run hot, you know that. But never like this.

Never like this.

It’s even worse than back when he was ‘sick’.

“Shit… Are you feeling okay? You’re burning up all of a sudden. Like, even more than usual.” Your voice trembles on the words as you speak, low and worried. It’s like the entire argument is forgotten in a blink of an eye just because you’re sensing that something isn’t right with him.

“No.” Much to your surprise, Kiba gives you a hard smile when you look up into his face. It’s covered with a thick coat of sweat again even if he had wiped it away just minutes before. “I’m not okay.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I think…” He pauses, letting out a pained sound that’s almost like a mix between a grunt and a whimper when you cup his face with your hands. “I think that I’m slipping into rut.”

“Rut?” You blink when he takes your hands into his own and hurriedly pries them away from his face, your eyelashes batting against your cheeks. The sudden rush of adrenaline that courses your veins when he starts to let you go makes you feel like you’re hollow inside.

So you cling onto his hands. If anything, they’re keeping you warm.

He breathes in again, every breath strained. “You need to stop touching me. It’s making it worse.”

Your brain feels like it’s turned to mush all of a sudden. All you can do is do as he says and whisper, “Oh. Y-yes, okay. Okay.”

“Fuck.” He scrubs his hand over his face for what must be the third time now, continuously wiping the liquid salt that just won’t stop oozing out of his pores. “Fuck. This is so fucked.”

Your eyes feel like they’re bulging from how concerned you are. His constant swearing isn’t helping the situation. “What is?”

“This whole night. Everything.” He looks away, clearly ashamed. Parts his lips so that he can breathe through his mouth instead of his nose, but it just makes him taste you on the flat of his tongue instead. Drool seeps as a result. “I wasn’t even supposed to go into rut for the next couple of weeks at least, maybe even a month from now... I think your scent might have triggered it.” 

After all, you’re sweet as summer honey. Honey made just for him.

And being this sweet, it’s no wonder that he’d subconsciously lured you out into the forest and away from other people under the pretense of catching up. No wonder that he had pinned you down with a single look in the middle of a grocery store as soon as you showed even the slightest hint of requited feelings. That he’d been getting impatient, had been getting jealous at the mention of other partners, had even nearly tried manipulating you into getting naked with him — something he’d never thought he’d sink so low to, for fuck’s sake.

All while the rut just stacked one symptom on top of the other.

This entire trip, every single one of his actions, every word, every look had been mere preying. Mere circling whilst getting ready to go in for the kill. After all, you’ve been gone for years, leaving him stranded. Catching a mere whiff of your scent — of his mate’s scent — after such a long time had been like an awakening for the beast within; a push for it to take over.

And that beast is ready to come out now. It’ll claw a way out of him if need be. He didn’t even realize it until now. 

Utterly blinded by instinct, he’d been played for a fool by his own psyche.

“Kiba?” you whisper his name cautiously, pupils still big as saucers as you repeat, “Hey. Are you okay?”

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit.” He exhales shakily, ignoring your question. “I-I need to get away from you before I—”

“What? You can’t leave me here! What the fuck,” you stammer out, eyes opening even wider in the dark. Ignoring his warnings, you clutch onto him again because he’s simply your only pillar right now. Rut or no rut. Whatever that means.

“Well, I can’t stay here,” he snaps in answer and now you can hear the mumble appearing between each word. His already humanly-questionable incisors are growing elongated now, turning into fangs and changing his pattern of speech. “You have no fucking idea how aggressive I get if I don’t get what I want during a rut; what you saw earlier wasn’t even the half of it. And I can’t... I won’t let you see me like that. I don’t want you to think—”

“I won’t think anything of you, I promise! Just… just please don’t leave me here. Please,” you quickly blabber out even if you’re not sure who the words are meant for; you or him. “Just tell me what you need.”

“No way.” He’s practically panting, every breath still continuing to be laboured as he says, “You’re not gonna like it.”

“Just say it.”

“It’s so fucking embarrassing, though.”

“Goddammit, spit it out already!”

“I—” He falters, huffing, only stressing you out further until he finally says, “I need to cum.”

The white noise that had just eased a bit inside your ears immediately gets replaced by the deafening ringing of your pulse. Did you just hear that right? 

“H-Huh?” is all you can let out as a result.

“I need to cum to make the rut ease up,” he explains impatiently, voice breathless, hoarse. He looks at you, the vein in his neck bulging as his jaw clicks into place again. “Fucking hell… M’sorry, I’m so sorry… for everything. You don’t gotta do anything if you don’t wanna, I’d never force you but— fuck, it’s so fucking hot in here. I can’t breathe.”

The moment you see him start losing his composure again is the moment that you spring into action.

“Here, let’s just… take it easy for a bit.” You blink profusely, trying to gain control of the situation as you ease him onto the pile of sleeping bags. “Breathe in nice and slow, yeah?”

“No,” he grunts out, tensing again in an instant. “That makes it worse.”

“Oh, right. Right. Sorry.” 

Moments pass, all of them feeling like ages even if it’s only a second or two, perhaps three. You spend them all by watching him like a shark in water, not sounding quite like yourself as you force yourself to step out of your comfort zone for once and utter, “Let me help you.”

“What?”

“Let me help you with the whole… uh.” Your rare, spontaneous decision makes your head want to hurt from all the anxiety it’s causing. “Cumming part, I mean.”

“No.” His cheeks glow red as he swallows hard. “You seriously don’t gotta. Like I said, I’d never—”

“I know,” you cut in, giving him a look of what you hope looks like determination instead of pure anxiety. “I know you wouldn’t. Besides, there’s no need for that because I want to, okay?”

Kiba frowns, looking the most exasperated you’ve ever seen him be. It makes his voice unusually quiet and small as he whispers, “Why would you?”

“Want that?”

“Yes.”

“I want to because you’re my friend,” you say and it’s the truth. “And I don’t care what it is that we gotta do to make you feel all right again, I’ll always help you out because of that, okay?”

“But I’m a shitty friend. I don’t deserve you helping me out; I don’t deserve you,” he counters. “I mean, for fuck’s sake… Look at the shitshow that I dragged you into just now.”

“You made it sound like you didn’t know this would happen, though,” you argue back, growing more backbone with your tone. “Did I understand that right?”

His teeth sink into the inside of his cheek, instantly drawing blood from how sharper they are than they used to be. He hisses, licking the now aching spot, tasting iron. “Yes.”

“Okay, then let me help you,” you try again, unrecognized greed and the bond you can’t feel not as nearly as deep as him pushing you forward hand in hand. “Yeah?”

Kiba looks at you for a long while. His eyes have gotten so dark that they look like they could absorb you whole when he finally opens his mouth to say, “Yeah.” His eyelids flutter shut for a brief second as he shakes his head, as if chasing the doubt away. “Yeah, all right.”

With his approval acquired, the couple of seconds to follow are like a blur. You don’t know where the sudden burst of confidence comes from as you coax him to lay on his back, but you’re happy it’s there because it keeps your hands somewhat from shaking.

“Come to think of it, maybe we shouldn’t—” He stiffens, the words catching in his throat from the way his cock automatically starts to twitch in his sweats because of the way your unsure touch travels down his stomach, now.

His dark happy trail tickles the tips of your fingers, caramel skin still so hot that you’re surprised he’s still conscious and capable of forming thoughts. 

“It’s okay, shh,” you soothe him even if your heart feels like it’s climbed up your throat again when he immediately pushes himself up with the help of his elbows so that he can look at you. You’re both trying so hard to not stare at the obvious tent in his pants. “I’ll, um… I-I’ll take care of it, okay?”

Your best friend’s chest heaves with every fast breath. All he can do is nod, the discomfort obvious as he says, “Okay.”

God, he sounds so uncomfortable but desperate for it at the same time. You force yourself not to look at him as you kneel beside him, feeling sweat gathering on the nape of your neck. Just a little while ago you were cold. Now, you’re burning up from how quickly he’s warming up the small space.

“Will, like, a handjob be enough…?” This entire thing is insane. Surreal.

You’ve gone from zero to a hundred just because he’ll go off the rails otherwise.

“I, uh, I think so?” His fingers curl, fisting the smooth material of the sleeping bag. He clutches it so tightly that it makes his knuckles turn white as he adds, “I mean, that’s what I do when I’m alone.”

“You jerk off during a rut?” The image of him stroking himself makes your stomach tighten and your throat turn scratchy.

“So many times. Ugh.” Heat spreads throughout your body at the groan he lets out, but it also warms his face into an even deeper shade of red. Talking about these things might be embarrassing right now, but it eases the tension. So he continues, “Sometimes I even have to take a couple days off work just so I can keep fuckin’ my fist, hah.”

The look on your face makes him inhale a sharp breath through gritted teeth.

“Too much?” he asks, that same look of dread overtaking his features once more.

“No, no,” you reply hurriedly, running two now-trembling fingers along the waistband of his sweatpants. The way his toned stomach trembles in response turns your mouth painfully dry all over again. “I just… I thought you’d rather venture out to find somebody to sleep with during a time like that. So that you can, you know… make it pass quicker or something.”

“Oh. Well, I did try to do that. But it didn’t go so well,” he answers, staring at every movement your hand makes with heavy eyelids. “Here, lemme… help you out ‘cause we gotta speed things up a bit. I’m so sorry… God.”

Your breath hitches when his too-warm hand cups your smaller one and wraps it around the prominent bulge in his sweatpants without any sort of hesitance, but with palpable urgency instead. 

He curls your fingers around the ridge of his clothed cock until you can feel out the shape of it. And then he stills completely, giving you time to pull back if you change your mind about the entire thing despite that every cell of him wants to roar.

But you never do. 

No, instead all you do is succumb to the moment and start to stroke him the way he’s shown you — slowly at first.

“Fuck, okay… That’s it,” he whispers, broad shoulders tensing at the touch. His fingers twitch, tightening their grip on the sleeping bag.

The praise is like a flame and it licks your skin. Feeling how big he is getting under the cotton now, how fucking huge he’s growing, makes your saliva thick and your voice wobbly as you whisper, “Like that?”

“Mhmm, yeah.” He sighs before yet another curse spills past his parted lips. There’s drool gathering on the surface of his sharp fangs by the time he urges you on. When he swallows it, it’s audible. 

Somehow, it succeeds in making you feel better, more relaxed. The fact that he’s just as nervous as you are helps. 

So you let your lips quirk upwards briefly as you say, “Now you’re the one that’s got drool dripping from the corner of your mouth, huh?” 

“Yeah, sorry.” He huffs a laugh. “This whole thing is pretty new to me. Makes my body act all sorts of weird.”

You blink. “A handjob is new to you?”

He shakes his head, looking down at his lap with a blush so prominent that it makes his entire face tingle. “No, I meant like a mate’s touch.”

“Oh.” You offer him a nervous smile, readjusting yourself on your legs. “Well, um… enjoy it while it lasts, hah?”

Kiba doesn’t say anything in answer. Neither do you. Maybe he’s afraid of what this will mean for your friendship afterwards. Maybe you both are. But with each passing minute, you slowly ease yourself into your sinful ministrations. Your strokes turn less rigid, the hesitance replaced with cautious intent, but intent nevertheless.

The waistband of his sweatpants gradually slips lower and lower down his hips as you keep going. A glob of your saliva gets involved; transferring from your pursed lips, to your palm, to his cock that has finally been freed from the too-tight confines of his clothes and is now being spoiled by skin on skin contact.

Even if Kiba remains in his — mostly — human form, you soon learn that werewolf cock is vastly different from a human one. In the dark, you can’t see it quite well, but that doesn’t mean that you can’t feel the difference. 

It’s bigger, harder, hotter to the touch than any you’ve previously had. It throbs and practically leaks pre-cum, nearly making you think that you didn’t even have to spit into your palm in the first place. In fact, it’s so lubed up that there are wet, almost squishy noises by the time his hips start to buck upwards and he starts fucking your fist.

You’re hovering over him, your face merely inches away from his own from how close you’ve gotten during the entire ordeal. If you thought he was panting before, now he’s nearly hyperventilating as he rasps, “F-fuck, mm… faster. Go faster, bunny. It feels s’good.”

His voice has turned into a growl of some kind; it’s the lewdest you’ve ever heard him speak. Because even with all the dirty jokes, and the questionable looks, and the sometimes too-long hugs which you’ve exchanged throughout the years, Kiba has always, always been respectful of your boundaries and limits.

But he really pushes that limit, really steps on that already thin line when he suddenly rests his forehead against your own and asks, “Are you gonna let me kiss you?”

Your thoughts turn fuzzy in an instant at the request, as well as at the nearly non-existent proximity. This isn’t about helping him out anymore, this is about feelings. Feelings that you’re very much still trying to understand. 

And feelings are dangerous, when you know that being friends is best for you. After all, you’re so different from each other — polar opposites. But you feel the invisible link that connects you to him now a bit better than you did before, feel it tugging you towards him; closer and closer, even if you’re merely human. Every touch makes it stronger and alters your brain chemistry, alters the way you see him.

It feels like you’re gradually starting to share every breath, like your heartbeats are aligning and will keep on aligning all until they’ll start to beat as one. Like you’re fusing together; he’s becoming you at the same time you’re becoming him.

You have no clue how he’s managed to endure all of this for such a long time, surely feeling it at least ten times stronger than you do. And in a way, it’s scary. All these emotions are making you feel overwhelmed and the worst part is that they’re not nearly as deep yet as his are.

You stare at him. He stares right back with dark eyes full of what you think is good intention. 

Your lips quiver as you whisper, “Do you think kissing is a good idea?”

“It’s just a couple of kisses, bunny,” he answers way too fast, quietly whimpering when your thumb swipes over his sensitive cockhead, turning tacky because of the bead of pre-cum there. He’s so needy that he feels like it’s going to kill him. The rut has outright cooked his brain by now, and that makes him pushy — he’s warned you about it. “It’s not like it’s gonna change anything between us.”

You look at him again, still sceptic. Your grip around his cock tightens as you think. “I dunno...”

“C’mon. Please, please, please,” he urges, feeling even more hot and bothered and desperate at how godly it feels when you stroke his cock. Up and down, up and down, up and down — he’s going to go batshit crazy. “Didn’t you tell me that you were gonna be a bit more spontaneous tonight? Hmm?”

You stare at him from underneath your lashes, feeling just a little less doubtful from how he pleads for it. Despite being perplexed about the entire situation, his uncharacteristic rambling and babbling and the constant need to challenge you proves to be like a push forward that you need in order to press your lips against his own.

So you gather your courage and lean in. And of course, he meets you halfway in an instant — even faster than that. 

The kiss itself is messy when you connect. It’s more so a clash of teeth and swapping of runny saliva, than it is a loving peck. He craves for you so bad that before you can even take a breath in, he’s nudging your bottom lip with his tongue, trying to make you part your lips a fraction wider; to part just enough for him to slip his tongue inside.

You let out a little ‘mmph!’ sound at how intense he is with it and how he cups one side of your face with his hand, literally forcing you to open up for him by pressing his thumb underneath your jaw.

“Hey—”

And it’s the opening he’s been looking for. He pushes his tongue inside, gliding it over your front teeth, tasting the roof of your mouth, exploring it like he’ll never get another chance to do so again — perhaps he won’t, who knows? 

So he hits you like a tidal wave and kisses you like he’s planning to eat you — it’s riveting as much as it is intimidating. Spit gets swapped with each sloppy kiss that gets shared between you now, some of it bridging the small gap between your mouths whenever you push him back just enough to come back for air. His large canine teeth bump against your own normal-sized ones. The occasional click! is enough to make your blood run hot.

And surprisingly, in the midst of all this chaos, you realize that kissing him feels right. It’s by no means romantic or a profession of love, but it is natural and synchronized in its own peculiar way. Somehow, it even makes sense. Like parts are connecting, like the image is getting clearer, like puzzle pieces are falling into place.

All those feelings that you’ve shoved down and blinded yourself from for literal years are rushing to the surface now. You feel like you’re going to burst.

In a way, Kiba feels the same.

“I, ah… I think m’gonna cum soon... Kissing you feels so hot.” He groans when he feels you falter, body tensing at how low his voice has gotten. His cock is nearly pulsating in your palm by now and he has to remind you to continue by helping you out with his own hand. “Fuck, keep goin’, keep goin’. Don’t stop now; I didn’t tell ya to stop, did I?”

Flustered and incredibly overwhelmed by everything that is happening, you do as he says because following orders — even frantic, growly ones — is familiar and comforting as a result. 

You let him sloppily fuck your fist as you tighten the hold of your fingers and loosen your wrist so that he can get what he needs to bring himself to his finish. All while he’s practically shoving his tongue down your throat, kissing you with such a burning passion that it feels like you’ll be engulfed in flames and turned into ashes any second now.

Heat steadily builds up within Kiba’s stomach. Sweat pours out of every pore all over again, making his hair stick to his forehead. His toes curl, his balls tighten. His throat gets all scratchy and dry. His brow furrows so deeply that it gives him a headache as he squeezes his eyes shut and just feels.

“Yeah… Just a lil’— fuck, yes, yes…!”

You go faster. And when he finally does tip over the edge and cums, it’s insane. 

His movements spasm, broad shoulders tense up to the point of pain. And then he’s literally growling into your mouth; making your lips and the inside of your throat vibrate as he becomes undone.

Your heart stutters at the sound. And when you feel his warm, sticky seed steadily fill your hand, it begins to dance inside your chest.

After all, there’s a literal fuckload of it, perhaps even more. His release dribbles past your knuckles and soils his sweatpants. It gushes out of him, ropes of it, all tacky and cloudy white and potent. You’ve never seen a man produce so much cum, especially not because of you. 

The sight, no, the feel of it makes you rub your thighs together as you squeeze every last droplet out of him. Before you know it, there’s a tingly sensation growing in intensity between your legs. A certain kind of heat pooling at the apex of your thighs, a certain kind of stickiness that causes your underwear to cling to your most private part.

Unsure of the reason as to why his pleasure affects you so strongly, the presence of your sudden arousal takes you by surprise and thus only makes you even more nervous as your core temperature scales higher, higher, higher.

You flinch when he kisses the corner of your swollen, kiss-bruised lips. Your cheek. Your neck. And it’s in that spot, where the curve of your shoulder starts, that he finally rests his sweat-riddled forehead and croaks out a very exhausted and very grateful, “Thank you.”

Kiba sags before you can reply, resting a great part of his weight against you and nearly making you stumble backwards because of it. Despite all of the confusion that riddles your mind at that moment, you can’t help but simply hold your best friend upright, repeatedly weaving your clean fingers through his now-damp hair in meek attempt of soothing him.

“It’s okay,” you whisper, trying to ignore the way your stomach feels like it’s doing flips. Who knew you had such an effect on him? Or he on you? “You’re okay. I-I mean, you’re messy, but you’re okay.”

Long moments pass. It’s hard to tell in the dark how much time has passed exactly when your phone is nowhere to be seen, but judging by how your fingers are still tacky with his now mostly dried up release, it must have been a couple of minutes at least.

“God, I didn’t think there'd be so much cum, heh... My bad,” he grunts at some point, pulling you out of your thoughts with the way he rubs the sweat on his forehead into your hoodie. Before you can scold him for it, he’s already back to burying his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply and trying to tame his breaths. 

His exhales are warm and ticklish. They make you snicker as you try to push away from him, hiding the sensitive spot with the help of your chin. “What’re you doing?”

“Sniffin’ you,” he answers with a matter-of-fact tone, as if it’s the most normal thing for a person to do.

“Well, stop it! I already told you that it’s weird back at the store.”

“Ahh, but you smell so good.”

Another smile kicks the corners of your lips upward. You’ve always liked the little compliments he gives you. This time it’s no different. “Do I, now?”

“Mhmm,” he nearly purrs, nuzzling his nose even further into your neck until he’s got it practically smushed against your pulse point, causing it to wrinkle slightly at the bridge. “It’s sweeter than usual though, your scent. How are you feelin’?”

Ba-dum.

“Oh, you know,” you mumble, trying to ignore the way your heart skips a beat. Can he tell what you’re experiencing? “A bit overwhelmed by everything that’s happened just now, but I’m fine otherwise... I think.”

A little moment of silence ensues. You’re just about to tease him and ask if he’s done interrogating you when he rasps, “You’re sure? ‘Cause I can definitely smell something other than ‘fine’ and ‘overwhelmed’.”

He sounds different again. More gruff. More tense. More demanding of an answer. 

It makes you feel cornered all of a sudden.

Before you can move, he pulls back just enough to press the side of his face against your own as he waits for your answer; perhaps giving you the comfort of avoiding eye contact, perhaps just to feel more physical touch — you don’t know. 

So, you’re cheek to cheek, now. Chest to chest. Muscle to muscle. The distance between you is nearly non-existent as you each stare at opposite corners of the tent. 

His stubble scrapes your face. Wasn’t he clean-shaven just this morning? 

Your breath warms his shoulder as he utters, “Well?”

“Yeah,” you answer as the slight prickle in your cheek yanks you back from the haze that is your thought process. Your voice is once again as wobbly as your legs are getting. It’s hard to concentrate when he’s so close. “I’m sure.”

“‘Kay,” he trails off, still not convinced. “How ‘bout…” 

Slowly, ever so slowly, Kiba leans down to press his lips to your neck again and leaves another tender kiss there, sending shivers down your spine. “Now?”

Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum!

You’re quiet, but your fingers tangle into his dark hair as you latch onto him for support in a mere instant, even you’re surprised by it. The way you can feel his sharp canines grazing your throat is exhilarating. Brain working purely on autopilot, you tug at the roots at the back of his head the same moment as your eyelids flutter shut. You simply can’t help yourself.

Perhaps this bond that he’s been telling you about isn’t something only he can experience, after all.

“And now…?” he utters so softly that you can barely hear him over the sound of your quickening pulse. His hand glides from between your shoulder blades, down to the small of your back and goddammit, his palm is so broad; it’s almost comical how big of a portion of you it manages to cover. “How do you feel now?” 

“Good. I feel… good,” is all you can answer with this time. Your voice sounds so small as his touch travels over the curve of your ass and rounds the corner by landing on the front of your thigh instead. 

You don’t fail to notice the way his calloused fingertips start to glide upwards now that they’re on your leg. The claws, that must have replaced his nails at some point when you weren’t paying that much attention, drag against the stretchy material of your leggings; playful, taunting. 

It’s all so slow. Deliberate.

The sudden burst of adrenaline that rushes through your veins and nestles deep inside your belly makes you fidgety, but he keeps you nice and steady by holding the side of your head with his other hand. 

Those claws are at your inner thigh now, only inching higher.

Higher, higher, higher.

And his lips are right next to your ear as he whispers a what you could only call an exceptionally needy, “Yeah?”

“Yea-ah!” A little gasp that’s more of a moan than anything else slips out from the way he unexpectedly cups your clothed pussy into the palm of his hand.

“Scent doesn’t lie, bunny,” he says, chuckling darkly. “You should keep that in mind when you’re around someone like me, y’know.”

Shit. You’re in for it now, aren’t you? His touch is scorching hot again even through the two layers of clothes that separates you from him.

It only spurs you into action, almost making you start to grind against him as you arch your back and press yourself closer.

Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum! 

Your heart feels like it’s on the verge of giving out.

“We should stop, K-Ki—” You don’t succeed in saying his name fully when he applies more pressure to make you reconsider. 

The heel of his palm presses right against your clit this time. Breathless and unsure if it’s done on purpose or merely by some lucky accident, you jolt, trying to squeeze your thighs together.

He catches you when you sag against him, much like you’ve previously done when he had been the one struggling to stay upright. And surprise, surprise — he’s hard all over again. Ready to go for round two, his cock starts poking your thigh whenever you move, leaving little splotches of sticky pre-cum there. 

It causes a second heatwave to hit you as filthy thoughts begin flooding your mind. Pussy dripping at the mere idea of him attempting to push that fat, monstrous cock inside you, you let out a little sound of panic when he presses his finger right on the spot where your tight little hole is hiding under the leggings.

“Oh, you liked that, huh?” You can’t see it, but he smirks into the dark; fangs glinting with the wolfish grin that’s gotten so conceited that it hurts. “Look at that… Lil’ bunny is getting all worked up from a bit of heavy petting.”

“Am not!” you stammer with feverish need, licking your lips as your nails dig into his scalp and you grab yet another fistful of his chestnut-coloured hair. “Stop teasing me… I-I’m just— Ugh…”

“I’ll stop if you let me take your clothes off already so that I can lick you and fuck you like you obviously wanna be fucked,” he says, rubbing tight little circles right into that little button that makes you feel like there is electricity running through your veins, not blood. “How does that sound? Or are you just gonna keep grindin’ that little pussy of yours into my hand for the rest of the night?”

Before you can answer, he slides up and down your slit, making your cunt eat up your underwear and leggings, shaping it out. Your knees buckle as you rest all of your weight against him, trusting him that he’ll hold you upright.

But the problem is that he doesn’t. Instead, Kiba uses the hand that he’s holding the side of your head with to help lay you down. 

Until you’re right underneath him.

And just like that, he’s on top of you, breathing in your scent with almost a sense of urgency whilst his hand still keeps on rubbing that overwhelmingly sensitive spot between your legs. Keeps on provoking it and keeps on making you so horny that you’re barely any better than a cat in heat.

With every stroke, he’s making you hot and bothered all over again. Making you buck your hips to the rhythm of his fingers. Making you sweat and whine and borderline sniffle as the upcoming tears of pent-up sexual frustration sting your waterline.

You’re about to go batshit crazy if he doesn’t do something other than pet you.

So it’s no wonder that you whimper and allow him to undress you one piece of clothing at a time, until you’ve got nothing else on but your colourful socks and your plain cotton panties are dangling from one ankle. That you let him kiss you down your neck and chest, until he’s nosing his way between your legs and licking you with that inhumanly coarse tongue to his heart’s content.

That you let him feast upon you like a man starved even if he is more monster than man; until your legs are trembling around his head and you’re seeing stars behind closed eyelids. That you let him devour your sweetness and inhale such deep, long breaths of its scent, despite that you’re feeling slightly embarrassed about it after telling him that you’re all ‘sweaty and gross’ down there after the hike, and he’s assured you at least a million times that he likes it even better that way.

And it’s no wonder that you let him spit onto your pussy as he kisses up your thigh and hovers above you, then, before he bends your legs so far back that your knees are nearly touching your ears. That you let him fold you into a mating press and align his cock with your sticky cunt at long last, his fat cockhead prodding at your tight hole that just won’t stop fluttering at even the slightest intrusion.

“Imma pound you s’good. Gonna make you cream on my cock, gonna do all of that nasty shit that I wanted to do to ya for s’long,” he babbles, his stare so ardent that it pierces right through your heart even if he’s not focused at all. The second wave of his rut has already contaminated all his thoughts and consumed him entirely. All he can think about is slamming you to your breaking point.

“Kiba, wa—…. wait,” you mewl, eyes wide open as you stare up at him. With his back hunched and his biceps flexing, every muscle and cord strained to withhold his weight, he’s gotten so big that he can barely fit inside the tent anymore. 

How in the hell is he gonna fit inside you?

“Please, I need it. Need it so, so, so bad, fuck,” he drawls almost like he isn’t completely present, his expression all dazed and stupid from how he keeps on staring between your legs. He nudges you again as he says the words, his cockhead catching against your sticky entrance once more, making you squirm. “Your cunt smells so fuckin’ sweet; it’s driving me nuts... I gotta push inside you, bunny, okay? Imma push in.”

You tremble in response, hips wiggling, legs opening a fraction wider to give him even more space because of how persistent he’s getting. When you look up at him through hooded eyelids, all you can see is how his slits for pupils dilate at the sight of the silvery string of arousal that clings to his cock now, connecting him to your cunt.

Your pussy is so wet — it’s practically drooling.

Consequently, it makes him drool, too. Saliva nearly drips down Kiba’s canines all over again.

“Just the tip, okay?” you whisper, trying to calm your heavy-pounding heart.

“Jus’ the tip, yeah,” he murmurs back with that fang-induced mumble, still so pussy drunk that he’s nearly brain-dead. His irises have turned yellow; they glow in the dark as he looks at you and says, “Jus’ the tip and nothin’ else.”

You stare at him with big, watery eyes. “You promise?”

Kiba huffs a laugh despite the fact that he looks like he’s barely keeping himself together. “‘Course I do, sweetheart.” 

Hearing him promise, you nod, and thus give him the approval that he’s been practically dying to get. “All right… But go slowly, okay? ‘Cause I’m scared.” 

“Slow, gotcha. Gonna go so slow that it won’t hurt one bit.” 

With a heartbeat that’s damn well working overtime by now, Kiba softly grunts when he finally presses into you, causing you to instantly flinch and wiggle your hips for a second time to try and accommodate him better.

“Keep still, will ya?” he chides, his patience leaving him for a quick second. “You’re twitchin’ all over the place like you’re an actual rabbit.”

“I’m trying! And shut it.” He keeps on pushing at your fussing, turning your voice higher in pitch as you say, “Shit, shit, shit… I said slowly!”

He grits his teeth, eyebrows drawing together in concentration that he doesn’t have. “This is slow.”

“Well, I-I think that you’re going way too fast.”

“Stop naggin’ me already and relax.”

“Excuse me?!”

Your mouth opens, but before you can even begin unleashing the storm that is your newly-formed fury, he leans down to press his lips against your own like the little shit he is.

Moments pass, he keeps kissing you as a means to distract you from the fact that he’s slowly filling you with his cock. And eventually, with some sweet-talking and plenty of combined effort, your pussy gives in when he adds just a little bit of force to the push, letting him break past that tight ring of muscle that your nerves must be causing.

You’re so tight that it makes the hair on the nape of his neck stand to attention when he finally slips inside, but you’re also so sloppy and dripping wet at the same time that he isn’t worried about it too much.

After all, from the way you push your head back now, pointing your chin upwards and exposing more of your neck that he feels the need to wrap his hand around and stroke it with the help of his thumb, you seem to be enjoying yourself just fine.

Nevertheless, concern — that he feels for you at all times — crosses his tight features. He’s barely holding it together, and here he is; looking out for you as he asks, “You doin’ okay?”

“Mhmm, yeah,” you utter, tensing when his touch moves from your neck down to your tits. 

He quirks a brow as he squeezes the fat of your breast and runs his thumb across your nipple this time, making you shudder. “But?”

You give him a pointed look. How can he always tell that there’s something hiding behind the reassurance? “But, you’re just so… big. Concerningly so. I’m worried about how I’m gonna take it all.”

He muses as he mocks the sound of your voice and says, “What happened to ‘just the tip, okay’?”

You huff, pouting. “Don’t make me keep it that way, you prick.”

“Okay, okay, m’sorry,” he says hurriedly, pressing what must be the hundredth kiss onto your lips. “I’ll be good, just don’t make me pull out, please.”

“What about you? Are you doing okay?” you ask, caressing his cheek with your palm. The way he instantly leans further into your touch makes your heart not only dance, but also sing. “I know this must be especially hard for you.”

“I’m fine,” he mumbles lamely, convincing neither of you. And then he sighs at the way you roll your eyes at him in answer. “I just… I want—”

“More?” you suggest.

A prominent blush sears his cheeks. Since when did he blush so much? He’s also sweating like crazy all over again as he says, “Yeah.”

“All right.” Carefully, you nod your head yes once more as you remind him, “I’ll give you more. But slowly, okay?”

“Okay,” he whispers, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip. How he doesn’t puncture the rosy skin with the action, you don’t understand. “I’ll go nice n’ easy on ya. Cross my heart.”

Well, he’ll try at least.

And Kiba does try to go nice and easy, he really does. But it’s hard for him to keep his cool when the beast keeps on howling in his veins and the bond that chains him to you screams at him to brand every last inch of your skin and soul alike.

He’s nearly trembling all over by the time he sinks balls deep into you and his dark pubic hair kisses your clit.

But at long last, you’ve become one.

“Fuck.”

“That feels so—”

“Good. That feels so fuckin’ good, goddamn.”

“I-I’m so… full.”

“You’re welcome.”

“God, do you ever shut up?”

“What d’you think?” 

“I think—”

“Woah, look, I’m even makin’ your belly bulge a bit.”

“Ew, ew, ew! That’s so gross.”

“What? No, it ain’t. I actually think it’s kind of cool-lookin’.”

“Stop poking it!”

“Nu-uh.”

Your ankles cross at the middle of his back when he presses his hand to your tummy, colourful socks scraping tan skin. The way you clench around him when he digs his fingers into the bulge makes Kiba wish he had the ability to purr.

“Move,” you squeak out, breath hitching at how the tip of his cock has managed to snuggle right next to your goddamn cervix. “Need you to… move. It’s too much! Kiba, please.”

He tries not to show how happy he is to do as you tell him, but fails with the way his entire face literally lights up as he says, “Like this?”

“Yeah,” you answer quickly, savoring every last bit of friction he gives you now. The rhythm he’s chosen is surprisingly laggard, even if he looks like he’s just about to start bursting at the seams. “Y-yeah, like that.”

Kiba likes the way you sound when you’ve got something fucking into you at a steady pace, but it’s even better that that something is him. Now that he thinks about it, the tone is pretty similar to the one you used to have after every gym class back in high school.

God, did he like seeing those tight shorts on you every Wednesday. Good memories.

A proper moan — the first amongst many — suddenly leaves your mouth, coaxing him away from his trip down memory lane and urging him to make you keep talking, talking, talking as he asks, “You need me just as much as I need you, don’tcha?”

“Pfsh. I never said… that,” you drawl with a click of a tongue as your breathing picks up. Every time he draws his hips back and pushes them back into you feels like he’s reshaping your entire goddamn cunt. Not an unpleasant sensation necessarily, but it definitely takes some time getting used to. 

“‘Kay, but listen to all this noise you’re making now that I’ve stuffed your lil’ bunny cunt full,” he says, his eyes glowing with mischief and that sublime yellow colour. “Bet no other man could make you sound like that, huh?”

They’re lazy but deep, the thrusts. Filled with intent. With arrogance and urgency that hides just beneath the surface, waiting to pounce. They reach parts of you that you’ve never even thought could be touched. They make slick dribble down his balls, until it’s all dripping right onto the sleeping bags you’re fucking on top of.

It’s all so audible and loud. Messy. The occasional sound of skin slapping against skin. The wet squelching noises between you. The constant whimpering and his growling grunts, steadily growing in volume.

And you’re going slow.

“Yeah, well that’s ‘cause you’re no man, you dummy,” you bite back when you’re more familiar and comfortable with each other and the connection, trying to be witty even if it’s hard to keep your mind from breaking into shambles.

“Is that so?” He’s breathing hard, picking up his pace, going harder. “Then what am I?”

A dazed smile curls your lips. “You’re a dirty, dirty dog.”

Kiba could agree with that statement to some degree, perhaps. Even if he dislikes the particular term you’ve used.

After all, you have no idea how he’s gotten himself off with a pair of panties that he’d swiped from your drawer and wrapped around his fist back in senior year. Or how he’d turned embarrassingly hard after almost every hug and had to play it cool even if he was sweating bullets from trying to hide the raging boner in his pants. Or how he’s fantasized and fantasized and fantasized; only watching porn with actresses that shared similarities with you because nothing else seemed to work.

You don’t have a clue about any of that.

And he hopes it stays that way.

“Hah.” An almost mean snicker leaves his lips as he unexpectedly slams into you, making you squeal out a particularly nasty curse and causing your pussy to outright gush at the intrusion. “Careful, sweetheart. If you keep on saying things like that, I’ll be more than happy to treat ya like the dirty dog you say I am.”

“Will you, though?” you challenge playfully, stroking down his back with the heel of your foot.

He sneers as he answers, “I will if you keep on testin’ me.”

“But I thought you said that you’re bonded to me?” 

“Yeah,” he says. “So?”

“So, doesn’t that mean that you can’t hurt me?”

He blinks, surprised. “Who said anything ‘bout hurting you…? I’d just mount you.”

Your expression copies his own. “Mount… me?”

“Yeah,” he mutters, temperature suddenly flaring up at the thought. “You know… the same way animals fuck.”

Heat creeps up your neck at the crude way he explains it. “Oh.”

Kiba’s lips quirk upwards when he catches a whiff of the subtle change in your scent. You’re flustered at the idea, smelling even sweeter now that there are no clothes to buffer the prominent notes of arousal. “I take it that you wanna try it?”

Your eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets. A wave of sweat washes over you, toes curling. “What— No!”

“Oh, c’mon,” he pushes gently, helping you out. “Scent doesn’t lie, remember? You’ll like it, I promise.” 

“And if I don’t?” you ask.

He nudges your chin with the tip of his nose. “If you don’t, we’ll stop. Simple as that.”

“Okay, but can you stop?” You angle your head so that he can press a kiss to your cheek. “When you’re like this… under the influence of a rut. Can you stop?”

Silence hangs in the air as he pulls away to look at you, his expression suddenly somber despite the glaze of unbridled lust that still coats his unnatural eyes. 

“I’d never hurt you,” he finally says. “I’d rather die than hurt my mate, that’s why I was ready to leave before.”

Kiba’s voice is stone cold serious. The intensity he chooses to speak with so that he can get his point across causes butterflies to spring free inside your belly.

You can still feel them fluttering around by the time his clawed hands manhandle you into the position he wants. Laying on your stomach now, you let out a little noise of surprise when his weight presses you further down into the silky nylon of the sleeping bags the moment he tops you.

He’s heavy, taking the profound size difference into account, but you’re pleased to find out that it’s the kind of weight that comforts you instead of suffocating you. You feel warm. Safe.

“Can I…?” he trails off.

His exhale tickles the back of your neck, making the hairs there rise to attention as you shiver and say, “Well, that’s what I’m here for, aren’t I?”

“Oh, sorry, my bad,” he says. “I thought you were here for the s’mores.”

“Not funny— oh.”

Your back arches and your anger dissipates into nothing as soon as he begins to push inside you again, careful not to stuff you full too fast. After all, while it might be easier to fit him inside you this time thanks to your earlier endeavours, it still remains to be no small task.

He’s as careful and considerate as he’s able to be in the state that he’s in. He pushes gently, but pushes nonetheless. By the time he sinks into you to the hilt and pauses to give you a minute, you’re both panting like you’ve just ran a marathon.

“You doin’ okay, bunny?” he rasps, voice so low and growly that it really does make you think you’re getting fucked by an animal. Or a beast, if you’d have to specify it.

“Yep, mhmm…!” You squeak out, your voice so high-pitched that it must surely hurt or at least agitate his ultra-sensitive hearing. You’re happy that he can’t see the fucked out expression that sits on your face right now. “Doing a-okay.”

“Don’t try to run away, now,” he teases when you wiggle your hips, trying to readjust yourself. “Or else the hunting instinct is gonna kick in.”

“Not to worry,” you practically chirp, feeling your body slipping into a fever at the way his big, calloused palm presses into the small of your back. “I’m staying put.”

He chuckles at how submissive he’s made you sound, at how there’s a prominent sheen of sweat gathering on your spine. Gliding his finger down your dewy skin, Kiba catches himself wishing to lick you clean of salt, but at the same time he just knows that you’d cause a fuss about it if he’d even mention the mere idea of it.

So for the following minutes, he doesn’t speak.

And neither do you.

You can’t speak from how deep he’s pushed himself inside you, anyway. No, all you can do is moan and whimper uselessly as he then proceeds to fuck you, to make love to you, to break you apart just to reassemble you until you’re whole again; all in the position he likes best.

He makes you sweat. Makes you cry out to him as you allow yourself to get lost in deeply-rooted carnal pleasure and you need his help to bring you back to morality. At some point, his arm even ends up reaching underneath you and wrapping around your stomach just so he can hold your hips up when you try to crawl away despite telling him that you’re going to stay put earlier.

Judging by the way you’re reacting to him, Kiba guesses that he’ll have to carry you down the hill when morning comes. 

Meanwhile, you’re unsure if it’s the bond that’s making you feel this wild or the simple fact that he’s not entirely human. However, when you at long last feel yourself clenching around him, and when that tight, almost unbearable heat that’s inside your tummy finally spills free and spreads throughout your whole body, you realize that you don’t really care what the reason behind your sudden recklessness might be.

“Fuck. M’not gonna last long, sweetheart… No fuckin’ way that I’m gonna last when your cunt’s milkin’ me dry like that,” Kiba grunts out as he feels you gush and start creaming on his cock. There’s a ring of milky slick gathering at his base already — the sight and sound of it turns his thrusts jerky and irregular. 

“Don’t get scared of the knot now, okay?” His upper lip trembles as he swallows hard. “It’ll be there just for a minute, I swear.”

“Knot…? What’s a—Oh, my gosh, Kiba; I am going to fucking murder you!”

The sudden swelling you feel inside your pussy practically bullies its way up to your cervix as he hunches his back and gives you one last, final push. 

Your toes curl as the ‘knot’ — or whatever he calls it — plugs you, and also succeeds in making you entirely rigid in return. Every last inch of your body feels tingly from the foreign sensation as he lets out one final groan, that sounds more like a pained whimper than anything else, and simply fills you up to the brim with warm, thick, endless ropes of cum that paint your abused walls entirely white and simply refuse to spill out of you.

You stare off into the darkness, listening to his ragged breathing whilst trying to tame your own. Eventually, his cock softens enough for your cunt to not feel like it’s going to fucking explode from the fullness. And as soon as that happens, he drops down upon poor, unsuspecting you; feeling completely, utterly exhausted.

Your werewolf best friend is squishing you flat like a pancake and is spoiling you with messy kisses after fucking you like an animal in the middle of the woods. And you’re just… fine with that?

The realization makes you smile.

Maybe living your life on the edge for once and being a little bit spontaneous isn’t as bad as you think.

———

“I really hope that your pills can withstand all that werewolf cum I’ve just pumped into ya, ya know. ‘Cause otherwise we’re gonna be having an entire litter of pups.”

“For the love of god, can you please use your lowly developed frontal lobe for like a second of your miserable life, and just keep watch like I told you to?”

“This is pointless. There’s literally no one here besides us and a couple of deer.”

“Shush! I’m trying to pee and I can’t do that when you keep on running your big-ass mouth!”

“Words, words, words; I am saying so many words just so that you won’t be able to piss.”

“Shut up already!”

With his back turned towards you and his hands stuffed into the pockets of his sweatpants, Kiba fights back a laugh as he listens to you relieve yourself in the nearby tall grass. 

After fucking you close to stupidity nearly three times in a row now — and mounting you twice during those three times — the young werewolf feels somewhat content with himself at long last. 

He’s fucked most of the rut out of his system by now. Besides that, you’ve also talked a lot, apologized to each other, and cleared up some misunderstandings. He’s even managed to place a hickey on that spot on your neck where your scent is the strongest and where, he hopes, you’ll let him place an actual bite mark someday.

But for now, you’re taking it slow. On Saturday, he’s taking you out to dinner at that little restaurant by the lake that you’ve always liked visiting with your parents. 

And who knows, maybe after you share dessert together, you might even go for a swim so that he has an excuse to take his shirt off in front of you and you get to make fun of him for it, or whatever.

So lost in his thoughts and all the planning he has yet to start pondering through, Kiba barely hears the rustle of your footsteps when you approach him from behind. 

He tenses, whipping his head in your direction only a millisecond before you manage to put away your travel sized packet of baby wipes that he teases you for constantly carrying around with you, and you place your hand on his shoulder.

Your eyebrows rise up towards your hairline in response to his visible startlement. “Did I just manage to sneak up on the so-called ‘apex predator’?”

“You wish,” he says as he absent-mindedly brushes you off. “I could smell ya from a mile away.”

You frown. “That’s so mean!”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he drawls, sighing. “It’s just that you smell like me, now… It stands out.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better.” You stick your tongue at him, looking up at him with your hands on your hips. In the moonlight, he’s even handsomer than usual in that weirdly rugged way that only he can pull off. “Can we go back inside the tent now? I’m exhausted after the entire...”

“Fuckfest?” he offers with a tricksy grin.

“Shut it!” you chide before you shove your phone’s flashlight right into his face as punishment.

Back inside the tent, you don’t have any sort of trouble with undressing yourself in front of your best friend this time. Your hoodie and t-shirt are tossed off, leggings following soon after — until you’re curling up against his strong chest in nothing else but your socks and underwear.

His body temperature isn’t nearly as hot as it was before, but the skin on skin contact provides you with enough warmth to be comfortable as you turn around to face him.

Kiba’s hair is mussed and his eyelids are already hooded with upcoming sleep when he lifts them just barely enough to look at you. The rut really has taken a toll on him; on the both of you alike.

“What is it now?” he mumbles lazily.

“Do you think,” you start, swallowing hard. “Do you think that we’re going to be okay?”

He smiles, the quirk of his lips faint. “I know we will.”

“And our friendship?” you ask, pressing your palm against his chest. “Do you think all of this is going to ruin it?”

“Nah, I think it’s goin’ to make it even better,” he says, fixing a loose strand of hair behind your ear before he settles back. He yawns, rubbing his eye as he mutters, “Besides, we’re gonna take it slow. Just like you’ve said.”

“And you’re fine with that?” you ask.

“‘Course I am,” he replies sleepily.

“Why?”

“Because you’re important to me,” he says. “So if you want to go slow, we’ll go as slow as goddamn snails if we have to.”

You let out a little laugh that sounds like wind chimes to him. “You’re so lame.”

Kiba grins, his heart fluttering at the sight of your smile. “Not as lame as you.”

And maybe, just maybe, going steady and experiencing peace for a change isn’t so bad either.

tags: @his-sweet-minx @rookie98writes @qichun @redskyvenus @simply-chillin-here @shanjisan

[zorosdimples]

mdni - possessive alpha!kakashi. inspired by this ask from caly @qichun, this ask from aly @rookie98writes, and this ask from cher @honeylavendr <3

“i can still smell him on you,” kakashi growls.

you feel the thunderous anger rolling off his body in waves, lightening threatening to crack. he has your back pressed into the mattress, knees flush to your chest, dripping cunt on display and begging for him to fill you.

but kakashi’s heavy cock is too far away to kiss your messy folds; you whimper, whine, and writhe in need, but his firm hold is rigid—sure to leave plum blossoms on the back of your thighs. kakashi grazes his fangs up your jaw to bite and nibble at your earlobe, a teasing taste of what’s to come that has you mewling.

“k-kashi,” you pant breathlessly, an undisguised plea evident in your desperate tone. “he j-just asked for a hug.”

kakashi pauses his ministrations on your ear, silvery stubble scraping your flesh as he moves down to nuzzle the dewy skin of your neck.

“i don’t blame you, pup,” kakashi placates, mouthing a kiss on the column of your throat before raising his head, his narrowed gaze a storm. “but genma fucking knows better than to touch his hokage’s mate.”

without warning, he plunges his cock into your wet heat—you barely bite back a scream. his pace knocks the wind from your lungs, and your head lolls back as he pounds into your cunt.

“gonna fuckin’ knot you and mark you up, sweetness,” kakashi grits out, relentless pace somehow quickening. “everyone’s gonna know who you belong to.”

at that, he sinks this teeth into the healed mark on the juncture of your neck and shoulder. agony sears through your body and hot tears carve streams down your cheeks as he pierces your flesh. but the pain dulls as your mate’s soft lips worship the angry wound, his tongue spelling i love yous in apology.

the next day, per your hokage’s orders, you wear a low cut top around the village. genma can’t look you in the eyes.

[animeomegas]

The Quest for a Second Life - Part 2 - Potions and Magic and Sex, Oh My! (1)

ITACHI x ALPHA!READER

Summary: Porn logic, you quickly discover, is great for your soul and general self-esteem, but rather intensive on your poor heart. Your first day in an erotic pocket dimension and the horny shenanigans are only beginning. Also magic? That shit was the coolest thing you'd ever seen. GN!Dom!Alpha!Reader x Multiple Naruto Characters

Word Count: 8.5k

Warnings: Sexual tension and adult situations, although no explicit sex. GN alpha, but all alphas have penises fyi.

A/N: I decided to split these chapters in two because they were getting very long haha! Not much porn in this one, as it's slightly more slow burn compared to Books 2 and 3. There will be a lot of porn in the second half, but this one just needed that build up imo. It's still too early to say Happy Holidays, but seeing that @omeganronpa is sick right now, I will say 'Get Well Soon!' instead :D I tried to get this finished in time to meet the request for softboi hours lol. I hope everyone enjoys!

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Epilogue

Waking up when you hadn’t been asleep was somehow worse than normal waking up, and considering how much you hated to do that, it was almost impressive.

Your head was fuzzy with disorientation, and your eyes felt glued together with enough grit to pave a driveway. All in all, you felt pretty rough. It took you a few seconds to remember where you were and what was happening, but once you managed to pry open your eyes, met immediately with an unfamiliar ceiling, everything clicked into place. You were inside your first pocket dimension.

The spike of excitement that shot through you was so strong that the grogginess dissipated almost immediately, and any thoughts about snuggling back to sleep fled with it. With some difficulty, you wrestled an arm from the heavy weight of blankets on top of you and rubbed the sleep from your eyes. Free of grit, you were finally able to examine your surroundings.

Your first thought was that you’d somehow fallen into the ‘Autumn vibes’ Pinterest board that you’d made in the middle of the night that one time when your desire to flee into the woods had been at an all time high. You were bundled up on a sofa in a living room dominated by a gorgeous stone fireplace that held a pleasantly crackling fire, various fire related tools and a small amount of wood storage.

There were floor-to-ceiling shelves everywhere, filled to bursting with artwork, old books, trinkets and pots of unidentifiable but colourful liquids and powders. Dried flowers and large, green house plants dotted every corner of the room, surrounded by candles of every shape and colour you could imagine, all of them resting on a collection of layered, patterned rugs.

Along with the sofa you were laying on, the seating consisted of a cosy armchair in a deep burgundy colour, and a little window seat filled to the brim with a mismatch of cushions and blankets.

The entire room was bathed in a warm, orange glow. It was utterly enchanting.

Distantly, over the crackle of the fire, you could hear someone humming from behind one of the doors. The voice was deep, but not excessively so, and accompanied by the occasional clanging of pots and pans.

That door must lead to the kitchen, you thought.

This little cottage felt so incredibly real and lived in. You had wondered if there would be some kind of giveaway that this was a story premise based in a fake, manufactured world, but so far you had found nothing. It was so much better than you could have dreamed.

That didn’t mean that you didn’t have questions though. Dazzled though you may have been, you needed to know a little more before you came face to face with the first omega. James had said you could communicate with her mentally, so first things first, you needed to figure out how to do that.

‘James?’ You tried using your internal monologue to speak, just with a greater emphasis and purpose than normal. ‘Can you hear me?’

‘Human alpha,’ James acknowledged, her voice sounding just as loud as your own in your head. You flinched a little at the strange sensation of a foreign presence invading your mind. Despite it being vaguely weird that someone could hear your purposeful thoughts, you were grateful to have a guide in an unfamiliar world.

‘I was wondering a bit about free will,’ you said, pausing as you tried to figure out how to phrase the question. James spoke before you could continue.

‘I’m not allowed to give humans any information about free will, religion, the afterlife, aliens, alternate realties, time travel, dead people, living people, or the secret behind the correlation between motherhood and the ability to find objects that accidentally fall into micro pocket dimensions.’

‘No, I meant like in these stories.’ You stopped, processing what James had just said. ‘Wait, motherhood and micro pocket dimensions? Is that why my friend’s mum was able to find the remote in four seconds after we searched for it for three hours that one time?’

‘What part of ‘I’m not allowed to discuss such topics with humans’ did you not understand, human alpha?’

You mentally shook your head, returning to your original point, ‘I was wondering how much free will the people in these books have. Do they have to follow a story, or a script? Will they fall in love me with no matter what I do or say?’

‘These stories are premises,’ James explained. You could so vividly imagine her face as she spoke. ‘They set the world, the rules of the universe, the people and their backstories, their motivations and inclinations, but they don’t provide a script. These characters are just as real as the people from your world by most interdimensional regulations and definitions. They have inclinations towards certain behaviours, but that is no different from your world, yes? People are defined by their experiences and behave in ways that fit their psychological profile and motivations, that does not mean they have no agency.’

You let out a relieved sigh, ‘That’s good. I was worried that they’d be forced to do things with me by the narrative.’

‘Rest assured, human, even in an erotica, if a person chooses to copulate with you, they will have done so of their own volition.’ You snorted at her phrasing, but her words were greatly comforting.

‘Wait, does that mean they can reject me all together?’ you asked, a sudden realisation popping up.

‘Technically yes. It is fairly rare… Although it does tend to happen more frequently with humans who choose erotica stories for some reason.’

Many, many people popped to mind as she said that, from incel forums to the creepy people you’d been unlucky enough to encounter in real life. You were certain that, given the opportunity, most of them would jump at a chance to live as the protagonist of an erotica novel. You were also certain that they’d immediately feel entitled to nonstop sex and a whole manner of other creepy things. It was honestly quite amusing to imagine them getting rejected by the ‘fictional’ love interests they so desperately clung to, and you wished for a moment that you could have had James’ role of fly on the wall to those rejections.

Personally, you weren’t worried about coming across as super creepy and you certainly weren’t going to be forcing anyone into anything. You were confident that, with two attempts, both literally designed to push you and a love interest together, you’d find some kind of fulfilling relationship.

The humming from the kitchen got louder all of a sudden and you wondered if you’d find that relationship with this mysterious omega.

‘Now, human, I will run through the general premise of this world to aid you in your first interaction.’ Even as a disembodied voice, it somehow felt appropriate when James cleared her throat. ‘You are in the world of ‘Potions and Magic and Sex, Oh My!’. You have taken the role of MC, a mysterious alpha that was rescued by the book’s love interest, Itachi, unconscious and in the middle of a snowstorm.’

‘Wait, what was he doing out in a snowstorm?’

‘Please try to remain focused, human alpha. MC, struggling with recalling any memory of who they are or how they got there, relies on Itachi to brew a potion to retrieve their memories. Shenanigans ensue, although the exact type of shenanigans will depend on how you conduct yourself. You have a great amount of power to affect the story, especially considering the MC is an amnesiac. As long as you account for how they ended up in the woods, the backstory is fully yours to fashion. But I advise you to heed my warning.’

You remembered it loud and clear. When picking a backstory, you were going to keep one acronym in mind: MLHH (Money, Love, Health, Happiness). That should serve your needs well. Regardless, you were glad you had time to think about the details while you were playing the amnesiac role.

The weird feeling of presence in your mind faded as James fell silent. You took a deep breath. You could do this. You were going to have fun with a pretty omega, treat him with respect, see real magic (and real porn logic), and all of that would be contained in your dream witchy cottage. As long as you avoided complete disaster, this should be one of the greatest things you’ve ever done.

It was only when the sound of the kitchen door unlatching reached your ears that you realised the humming had stopped.

Your head snapped to the side and your eyes landed on the most beautiful omega you’d ever met. This must be Itachi.

Itachi had long, dark hair that was drawn back into a low ponytail, although he’d left a decent amount loose and framing his pale, heart-shaped face. His features were sharp, especially his eyes, and although he moved gracefully, he also seemed to command attention with a presence that felt both strangely out of place and intimately natural for him.

He wore a cosy collection of warm-coloured, loose clothing, including simple brown trousers and a woollen jumper, finished with a pair of simple, black house slippers. The jumper was sliding slightly off of one shoulder, revealing an extra sliver of bare skin that was strangely hypnotic.

“You’re awake! I was just debating about grabbing some smelling salts,” he said, his intense brown eyes focused directly on you. His voice was as pretty as the rest of him.

Quite frankly, he was stunning from head to toe. You weren’t even slightly surprised that he was the romantic interest.

The man (the witch, you reminded yourself, a little incredulously) approached you until he was perched on the edge of the sofa at your waist. Without hesitation, he reached out a hand towards your head and rested the back of his palm on your forehead. He felt neither hot nor cold, and a moment later he withdrew his hand, staring down at you stoically.

“How are you feeling? Any nausea? Black spots in your vision? Can you move all of your fingers?”

“No, no, and” -you wiggled your fingers under the blanket- “yes. I’m feeling fine, just a little groggy from waking up.”

“That’s to be expected. You’ve been asleep for at least twenty-five hours. I found you unconscious at the base of a tree in the middle of a storm last night. It was so cold; I was worried you—” he cut himself off with a shake of his head. “That doesn’t matter. You’re safe now.”

“And I appreciate that,” you said, sending him what you hoped was a charming smile. “I prefer having all my fingers attached generally.”

“As most people do,” he replied, solemnly, not seeming to pick up on the joke. You almost made a woosh noise, until you remembered that for him, that had likely been a very genuine concern after finding you, so you let the joke die.

“Why were you—” the word caught in your throat, and you suddenly began to cough, only now realising how hoarse your throat was. Right, you’d been asleep for over a day.

“Oh, you must be thirsty,” Itachi said, frowning. You were overcome with a desire to make him smile. “One moment.”

You were expecting him to get up and fetch a glass from the kitchen, so when he suddenly began leaning towards you, reaching over your head towards the side table, you were a little surprised.  That was nothing however to the surprise you felt when he inadvertently gave you a rather spectacular look straight down his shirt. Your coughing spiked and your face warmed.

“Here.” Itachi leant back down, a glass of water clutched in his left hand. With his right hand, he helped you sit up before handing you the glass. You grabbed it and drained the whole glass immediately. The cool reprieve from the irritating scratching was a welcome feeling. Almost welcome enough to make you forget about Itachi’s blush pink nipples. Almost.

Realistically, you weren’t sure how could you forget a view so enticing. No, stop it, brain, now was not the time. Except… this was the time. This was a pocket dimension based around porn logic and that was your first taste of it.

Wow, who knew porn logic was so delightfully pink and round, you thought giddy.

“Are you feeling better?” Itachi asked suddenly, knocking you out of your thoughts. His jumper was firmly back in the place it was supposed to be.

“Uh, yeah, totally fine.” You knew you must have had a stupid, dazed grin on your face, but knowing about it didn’t make it any easier to stop. “You’re very pretty, by the way.”

Itachi froze, and for the first time since you’d met him, his composure slipped, a tiny, almost unnoticeable blush bloomed high on his cheeks. It was a similar colour to his—Nope, going to stop you right there, brain.

“Oh.” He didn’t say anything else, only staring at you, wide eyed. You were surprised by his surprise. Surely this man was more than used to people fawning and falling all over him; he was objectively beautiful. Although, living in the woods like this, was there anyone else to tell him that he was beautiful? “Thank you.”

The blush lingered for a few more moments before vanishing. Any amount that you had succeeded in flustering him was now locked behind that stoic, but not unkind, face.

“I need you to give me the name of someone I can contact for you, someone willing to escort you home and stop you wandering alone in the woods during a winter storm.” You could feel the gentle rebuke in his words. “I have methods of contacting the nearest towns and villages, I just need to know who to send for. Who should I ask for?”

Right, this was your first attempt at properly engaging in the story, in your character. You had almost forgotten that you weren’t fully yourself in this world. At least your supposed amnesia would be an excellent shield as you came to terms with this experience.

“I don’t know,” you said simply, trying hard to look baffled.

Itachi sent you a sympathetic frown, “You don’t have anyone to contact? Then tell me where you live, and I can escort you home myself.”

“No, I mean, I don’t remember.”

There was a beat of silence.

“You don’t remember?” he eventually repeated, brows furrowed.

“I- I don’t know where I came from, who I am, or why I was in those woods.” This wasn’t your best acting work, for sure, but it seemed like enough to convince Itachi, whose frown deepened even further.

“How is that possible?” Itachi murmured, mostly to himself. He scanned your face but didn’t seem to find anything of note. “Do you remember anything at all?”

“Only basic things, like my name and how to eat and drink.” To prove your point, you gave him your name and rough age.

You watched as Itachi’s frown melted into something a little more determined. His eyes took on a hard edge, and despite his gentle kindness, you acknowledged that he had the potential to be rather intimidating.

“I will help you,” he said firmly, looking you straight in the eyes. “I’m a witch; I can find some way to recover your memories and get you home, I promise. Until then, you are more than welcome to stay with me.”

He really was a kind man, you thought, ‘fictional’ or not.

“Thank you,” you said earnestly. “It means a great deal to me that you’re willing to help.”

Itachi smiled politely as he stood, “Then I will start searching for a spell or potion that can help. First though, you must be hungry. I think it’s time for some dinner.”

Oh, this was going to get you good; you had such a thing for pretty people cooking for you. There was just something about it that satisfied that part of yourself that wanted to be doted on. You were going to enjoy this. Actually, you should probably check one important thing first.

‘James? Does this body have any allergies or intolerances of its own? Or did I just bring mine with me?’

‘Neither. Allergies and intolerances are inconvenient for erotica stories and thus do not exist.’

No allergies or intolerances at all?

‘James, this is the best day of my life and I want to kiss you on the mouth.’

‘You are supposed to kiss the omega right in front of you, human alpha, are you confused?’

You didn’t reply. Itachi started walking back to the door he’d come from. Just as he reached the doorway, he turned back to you.

“Oh! My name is Itachi,” he said. You knew that, of course, but it was still nice to hear him say it. “Take your time getting up, I’ll set the table and finish up the cooking.” He disappeared round the corner, although he didn’t shut the door behind him.

Ignoring his instructions to take your time, you cheerfully threw back your blankets and stood up, taking a second to shake out your limbs and run your fingers through your hair. You looked exactly as you remembered yourself looking, just dressed in different clothes. You were wearing a very simple long-sleeved shirt and pair of trousers that looked like they would fit in with whatever pseudo time period this was. You wondered briefly if these were your clothes, or if Itachi had dressed you in something of his. The clothes did seem to fit you too well to be borrowed, but you weren’t sure if porn logic made everything that much more convenient. No amount of convenience with clothes would ever trump convenience with food. You had no allergies or intolerances, and you’d never develop them in the future either!

The living room looked a bit smaller now that you were standing, but it only added to the cosy vibe. You took a deep breath, savouring the smell of the firewood burning and whatever was cooking in the kitchen mingling in the air. You followed Itachi into the kitchen, feeling like you could skip with glee.

Stepping in, you were grateful you had socks protecting your feet from the stone floor. The kitchen was small, containing only the necessary kitchen supplies and a tiny, two-person table, although through the window you could see hints of an outdoor kitchen with a fire pit and grill, and a much larger dining table, probably for use in the summer. The clutter from the living room continued into the kitchen, with pots of wooden spoons, pans and dried flowers hanging on the walls, and an impressive spice cabinet that took up almost the entire back wall.

It also looked like something straight out of your Autumn Pinterest board.

Itachi was at the oven, stirring a pot of something that you couldn’t see.

“It smells great,” you said earnestly, sliding up beside him and peering into the pot. It seemed like some kind of stew.

Itachi turned, and greeted you with what seemed like his first proper, genuine smile, “You think so?”

“I do. Thank you so much for cooking.”

You weren’t quite confident enough to stake your life on it, but you were pretty sure that, if the pot on the stove wasn’t bubbling so loudly, you’d have been able to hear him purring. The way he suddenly just so happened to be pressing one hand to his mouth only supported your theory. Clearly, this omega hadn’t been praised enough in his life. Thank goodness you were here to rectify that.

“Is there anything I can do to help? I can lay the table if you tell me where everything is.”

Itachi cleared his throat (and you could swear there was a hint of a purr in there!), “No, that’s alright, just sit down, I’ll handle it.”

“Are you sure, because—”

Itachi clicked his fingers and out of one of the cabinets floated two bowls and two glasses. You watched, completely stunned as they floated to the table and set themselves neatly in front of two of the chairs. Itachi then waved his hand at one of the drawers and two forks and two spoons did the same as the dishware, laying themselves neatly alongside the bowls.

Magic.

Real life magic.

Holy shit, you hadn’t thought about the fact that he was a witch, not really. Magic was real. Itachi just laid the table with magic. You sat down heavily in one of the chairs, mouth hanging open slightly.

‘James?!’ you mentally asked, desperately.

‘I cannot kiss you, human alpha.’

‘What? No! James, is it possible for me to learn magic in this world?’ Please say yes, please say yes.

‘Yes, everyone in this world has the ability to learn at least some kind of magic. It will not become clear how much magic you have until you are actually apart of this world, but I should imagine you will at least be capable of brewing potions.’

Yep, this was definitely the best day of your life. Or afterlife? Either way, if you picked this world, you’d be able to learn at least some magic. That counteracted a lot of the downsides of living without modern technology that you had been considering. Not having modern medicine was moot if potions were just as effective. Not having electric heaters was fine if warming charms existed.

Itachi knocked you out of your thoughts when he came over with the pot and began gently ladling the stew into your bowl. You would explore magic later, right now, was time to eat.

…

You had eaten most of the stew in a silence that neither you nor Itachi felt compelled to break, although you had noticed him sneaking glances at you every so often. The stew tasted homey, hearty, slightly sweet, and all around delicious.

‘James, I am so happy right now.’

‘I did not realise humans were so passionate about stew. I will make a note.’

You shook you head lightly, vaguely amused by James’ shenanigans.

Even with the display of magic earlier, things felt weirdly normal. Baring the nip slip from earlier, there hadn’t been any other porn logic that you’d noticed. It was kind of a relief. Although you were still incredibly excited to be horny on main forever, being able to just breathe and enjoy a nice meal was good too. No one wanted to have sex shoved in their faces 24 hours a day.

You attracted yet another glance from Itachi, but this time, you noticed that he had a tiny splash of stew at the corner of his mouth. Despite just finishing establishing your relief that porn wasn’t going to be shoved in your face, you felt immediately compelled to test some porn logic. You didn’t want to ruminate on what that rapid 180 mental turn might suggest about your psyche.

If porn logic was at play, could you just… reach and wipe his mouth for him? Would he take that positively? You debated on it for a bit, but ultimately decided to try it; you had amnesia for an excuse if he didn’t take it well, and it wasn’t so creepy that he’d hate you, hopefully. He was your love interest, right? You needed to flirt with him.

“Itachi?” you said softly, shuffling your chair slightly towards him. His head snapped up to yours, spoon hovering over his bowl. “You have a little something.”

Slowly, allowing him plenty of time to reject your advances, you reached a hand out towards his face. Itachi watched you, wide eyed, but didn’t move.

Slowly, your thumb made contact with the corner of his soft lips. In what seemed like some kind of automatic impulse, Itachi’s lips fell apart slightly as soon as you touched them. You could feel his hot, stuttering breath, and as you swiped the stew away, you were treated to the smallest flicker of his tongue. You shivered as the wet warmth brushed against you; the atmosphere was electric.

You took in a breath of Itachi’s scent which was suddenly twice as strong. Yeah, you were definitely in an erotica, fuck.

Itachi’s spoon clattered back into his bowl, splashing droplets of stew over the wooden table and shattering the heated moment. Itachi stood suddenly, his chair scraping across the stone.

“I- I’ll wipe up the spill,” he said, rushing to the counter to grab a cloth.

You cleared your throat, trying to hide your smile, “Right, you do that.”

Pretty omega, inviting you to stay in his home, cooking for you, accepting your flirtations. The heat in your stomach was no longer just from the food.

The electricity died as Itachi wiped up the stew and took the bowls in one fell swoop, leaving everything feeling normal. You tried to offer to wash up, but Itachi declined, escorting you back to the sofa ‘to rest’.

“I’m going to go and check in my study for any information on amnesia. Please make yourself at home, but don’t go outside; if you faint in the cold and I don’t realise, it could end up worse than last time.”

You were about to argue that you weren’t going to drop dead the second he took his eyes off you, (you wanted to see the magical woods you were in!), but the words died when you realised that from Itachi’s perspective you were sick and had already fainted in an inopportune location once before. He was just looking out for you.

“I’ll stay inside,” you promised, reluctantly. “But you have to give me a proper tour of the woods at some point, okay?”

He inclined his head, “Of course. I won’t be long.” He then disappeared through a door on the other side of the living room.

The second he was gone you went back into the kitchen and washed the dishes.

Then, unable to see the woods, and not wanting to be creepily exploring the rest of the house without your host, you found yourself in front of the fire, searching through Itachi’s books. Unfortunately, Itachi seemed to keep all the magic books somewhere else, which wasn’t surprising you supposed, but you did manage to find a book on fairytales. How different would this world’s fairytales be? To be honest, you hadn’t expected the world to be so in depth as to have its own fairytales at all.

You flicked through the book for a few minutes, enjoying the illustrations more than anything.

‘James, are any of these stories based in truth in this world?’

‘Oh, I should think only around half have any significant amount of truth to them.’

‘Half?!’ you said mentally, trying not to choke. ‘I’m in the middle of the woods and vulnerable! What do you mean half of them are real? That big foot esque thing with horns and jagged teeth on page three isn’t real though, is it?’

‘Not anymore!’ James said, as chipper as can be.

“Right,” you said breathlessly. “I think I’ve had enough of reading fairytales actually.” You closed the book, intending to slot it back onto the shelf when a single page fell out and fluttered to the floor, dangerously close to the fire. Fuck, you were left alone for an hour, and you were already wrecking things. You snatched it up off the ground, intending to slip it back inside and not mention it, when you realised that the page didn’t look like it belonged to that book at all.

In fact, you held it up closer to your face, it looked like a potion recipe!

“’Amnesia Reversal Potion’,” you read out loud. “No way.” What were the odds on finding this? Actually, erotica books didn’t normally have complicated plots, so the odds of this literally falling into your lap were probably quite high.

You stood up, recipe in hand, and went to the door that Itachi had left through earlier, “Itachi?” You got no response. It was his study, so maybe he wouldn’t mind you just poking your head in. You slowly pushed open the door and slipped your head in. “Itachi? I think I found something to—”

Oh.

This was his study and his bedroom.

And you had just walked in on him changing.

Itachi jumped in shock, grabbing the nearest blanket and holding it over his chest while you stood frozen in the doorway.

Yep, those beautiful nipples were absolutely haunting your dreams tonight.

…

After many apologies were handed out and the awkward horniness of receiving your second accidental flashing had dissipated somewhat, you and Itachi were sitting in front of the fire together, looking over the potion recipe that you’d found.

It was dark now, and the vicious Winter wind shook the windows and billowed around the chimney. Thankfully, having Itachi pressed against your side was fighting the chill away. The hot chocolate that Itachi had made was helping too, served in mugs carved with runes that kept the delicious drink at the perfect temperature.

You had also been delighted to discover that Itachi wore glasses when reading, and he looked rather adorable when he adjusted the thick, black frames as he scanned the recipe.

Itachi made a considering noise as he went through the ingredient list, “The potion is simple to make, but has quite a long ingredients list. I have most of it, thankfully, but there are a few things I’ll need to go out and buy or collect.” He put the paper down and took a sip of his hot chocolate, making a little sinful noise of pleasure as he did. The hot drink fogged up his glasses, so Itachi took them off. “There isn’t much we can do tonight, but tomorrow I can start collecting everything we need.”

“Can I join you?” you asked, shuffling a bit closer.

Itachi seemed surprised, but soon that melted into a smile, “Of course, as long as you’re feeling up to it. I’ll charm all your clothes against the cold, just to be safe.”

A fair request seeing that he lived in the middle of a freezing forest. It did bring up some of the questions you’d had for him though. You weren’t sure if James knew about Itachi’s backstory, but it felt wrong going behind his back regardless. You’d rather hear it from him.

“Can I ask you some questions? About you?”

Itachi hesitated for a moment before seemingly forcing himself to relax, “Of course.”

“Why do you live in the middle of nowhere? Do you… have friends?” You hesitated before asking the next question. “Family?”

“I used to live in a village not too far from here,” Itachi said slowly, staring into his mug. “It’s where I was born and where my family is still living. There was an… incident, when I was a teenager. The council decided that it was in everyone’s best interests that I lived out here instead.”

“What kind of incident?” You didn’t want to push him too much, but you were deeply fascinated as to how he had ended up here. Also, to make a decision for your forever pocket universe, you wanted to know as much as possible about the omegas that’d be joining you.

Itachi gripped his mug tightly, “I don’t want you to think badly of me.”

“I don’t think that would happen,” you said with quiet confidence. “Even if you did something bad as a teenager, I’d much rather judge you on who you are now. And the person I see in front of me is someone kind, someone who tries to help complete strangers, and forgives the stupid alpha who came blundering into his bedroom at an inopportune moment.”

Itachi breathed out, amused.

“I think you’re wonderful, Itachi.”

“Thank you,” he murmured, quietly. “Maybe I’ll tell you the full story someday. In a way, I’m very grateful to have my own space, and I still meet with my family sometimes when they can make the trip to me. I do not dislike my life.”

“Tell me about your family,” you said, brushing a stray piece of hair out of his face. Itachi leant into your hand ever so slightly.

“There were four of us in our household, my father, mother, and my younger brother, Sasuke. Here” -Itachi bent forward and dragged a rather large, leather-bound sketch book out from under the sofa- “I have some sketches of him.”

He propped the book up on your laps and opened it, revealing countless sketches of trees, fruit, plants, even some of the living room you were sitting in. You noticed immediately how few there were of people.

Itachi flipped until he reached a page filled with sketches of a grumpy looking preteen, “This is Sasuke, he’s just turned 13, although the most recent sketch is this one from his 12th birthday.”

You focused on the sketch that Itachi had pointed out. Sasuke looked like he was scowling over the top of a birthday cake. “He seems… happy?”

Itachi didn’t notice the questioning tone, only smiling to himself, “He was, it was such an amazing day. I’ve met him a few times since then between our homes, but that was the last time he was in my home.”

“I can tell that you care about him a lot,” you said, gently tracing one of the drawings with your finger. “You must miss him.”

Itachi didn’t speak and you were worried that you had offended him.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t—”

“No, you’re right,” Itachi said, giving you a sad smile. “He’s my baby brother. He’s everything to me, but that’s why I had to distance myself, to keep him safe from the burden of guilt by association.”

“Aren’t you lonely here though?”

“Sometimes,” he admitted, voice heavy like he was confessing to a dirty secret. “All I wanted when I was younger was to have people leave me alone, to have the pressure lifted for just one day, and I do relish it, being able to study the kind of magic that I want, to learn to cook and bring my garden to life, but… It’s not bad here, not at all, and once my brother is old enough to make the journey to see me by himself, I think things will be even better.”

You could tell that there was so much that he wasn’t saying, so much that he was implying, and so much about his own life that he hadn’t come to terms with yet, but you held your tongue. It sounded like he’d been pressured until he exploded, and then been punished and sent away for it. Whatever details you were missing wouldn’t stop you feeling outraged on his behalf.

With the snap of the sketch book shutting, you understood that he was ending the conversation though. You would have to give your passionate and ill-informed defence of his unknown past actions on another occasion.

Itachi leant over to put the sketchbook back away under the sofa, but on the way back up, he accidentally knocked what was left of his hot chocolate all over your lap. You gasped as you saw the liquid pooling on the blanket, the warmth bleeding into your skin moments later. You tried to push the blanket off your lap, but you weren’t fast enough to stop it leaking through to your clothes.

“I’m so sorry!” Itachi said, helping you drag the blanket off. “I don’t know what happened, I’m not normally so clumsy.”

“It’s okay,” you said, cringing at the feeling of the hot liquid rolling around. “Accidents happen.” You awkward shuffled off the couch with your hips raised to limit the damage. “At least it isn’t boiling hot.”

“Regardless, I’m sorry,” Itachi said again, grabbing a random cloth off the side table. “Stand still.” Itachi crouched in front of you and with the cloth, began dabbing firmly at the hot chocolate stain. Yes, the stain that was directly over your crotch.

You sucked in a breath, “Um, Itachi?”

“I’ll have to grab you a pair of pyjama trousers to borrow,” he said, almost comically unaware of what he was currently doing.

He continued to dab forcefully, rubbing at the stain in an attempt to limit the damage. This was going to be dangerous in about three seconds because an omega was pawing at your cock and your stupid body didn’t care about the difference between this and the other kind of pawing.

“Itachi!” you said, more urgently this time, aware of the direction your blood was now flowing.

“Yes?” He looked up at you, eyes wide, at an angle that really didn’t help resist the tide of dirty thoughts. You wondered how he’d look with that beautiful face covered in your--  

Too late. You now had a massive boner and Itachi’s hand was resting right on top of it.

You cleared your throat awkwardly, “Your hand, Itachi.”

You watched as Itachi slowly put the pieces together, his eyes tracking from his hand to the area his hand was resting on, up to your face, and finally back to your crotch. You saw the exact moment that it clicked in his head.

“Oh.” Itachi froze, hand still resting on your erection. The cloth dropped to the ground as Itachi’s grip weakened, revealing the outline of your cock straining against the fabric of your trousers. The soft, malleable fabric didn’t leave much to the imagination. “That’s… big.”

You snort-laughed, mainly out of surprise, “Itachi!”

That finally did the trick, knocking Itachi out of his trance. He yanked his hand back like he’d been burnt, “Sorry, sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t realise.”

You burst out laughing while Itachi buried his red face in his hands. It was extra amusing because it was stoic Itachi who had accidentally been two pieces of fabric away from giving you a handjob. Porn logic was equal parts horny and hilarious, it seemed.

“Don’t worry about it.” You continued to giggle through the words and helped Itachi to his feet. “Can you grab me some pyjamas and point me in the direction of the bathroom, please?”

“Right, yes, of course, the bathroom is through that door, I’ll go grab you something to wear and leave it outside the door.” Itachi scurried off, cheeks pink, and you followed his directions into the nearest bathroom, pushing open the door and closing it behind you.

It was weird to see a bathroom lit only by warm candlelight, but there were certainly enough candles to do it. Every surface had at least three candles and a plant, arranged in a way that made you once again think of your Pinterest board, but also of the massive fire hazard this would surely be if Itachi couldn’t do magic.

You leant against the bathroom door and pressed a hand over your chest to calm your rapidly beating heartbeat. This porn logic thing felt good for your soul and bad for your heart. That whole series of events had been pretty funny though, and you certainly weren’t going to complain about having Itachi’s hands on you. Even though you’d only known him for a day, you were already very happy with your choice. Actually, that brought up a great question.

‘James? How long do I have in each of the pocket dimensions?’

‘Long enough, human alpha.’

You huffed; that was so unhelpful. What was also unhelpful was your massive boner. While this was an erotica, things hadn’t moved so quickly that you thought Itachi would be down for going all the way on your first night, and you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. You wanted to move a little more slowly, to make sure he was comfortable and savour the moment. You also refused to blow this like those incels James had mentioned. You were above that which meant the boner had to go.

“Please go down?” you tried asking politely, taking off your stained trousers. It stayed stubbornly upright, not even wilting slightly once exposed to the cold air. You sighed; that never worked. Well, here goes nothing.

You moved over to the sink and turned on the cold tap, a grimace already forming on your face.

‘James, wish me luck.’

‘Why do you need—’

You yelped loud enough that some birds outside the window took flight in shock. Fuck, that was cold!

…

When that was sorted, you opened the door to find a neat pile of pyjamas, shower supplies, a towel, and toothbrush waiting for you. A quick (and almost certainly magically warmed) shower later and you were ready for bed.

Exiting the bathroom, you realised that the sofa wasn’t made up as a bed anymore, the way it had been when you’d first woken up. Itachi was nowhere to be seen, so you went to his bedroom door to find him. Having learnt your lesson from before, you knocked and waited to be called in.

“Hey,” you said softly, entering his bedroom. You watched as he extinguished some of his candles with a candle snuffer, bathing the room in a much gentler light. The large candle shaped like a black cat that he had on his chest of drawers made you smile. You hadn’t seen it the first time, probably because you’d been distracted by two very cute, pink, round things, that you were not supposed to be thinking about brain, now was not the time!

“Hello.” He turned around and you pretended not to see the way his eyes flickered straight to your crotch before settling on your face.

“I was just going to ask if we could set the sofa back up into a bed,” you said, trying not to preen under the attention your cock had garnered from the pretty omega. Maybe he’d be thinking about that while you were thinking about his pretty nipples.

Itachi averted his eyes for a moment as he put down the candle snuffer, “It’s very cold tonight.”

“It is.”

“I’m worried that I don’t have enough blankets to keep the both of us warm, and you might still be unwell from fainting in the snowstorm, so I was thinking, do you… I mean, would you want to share my bed? With me?” Itachi spoke quickly, like he was pushing the words out as fast as possible while he still avoided making eye contact.

A grin slowly bloomed on your face; he was so cute.

“If you don’t mind, that’d be great,” you said, trying to keep your grin from coming across as creepy.

“Really?” His head spun around to face you again, his hair, which you only just realised had been freed from his ponytail, fanned out around his face. “I mean, that’s great.”

You stepped closer to him, “Great.”

He stepped closer to you, “Yeah.”

Somehow that electricity from earlier was back in the air and you felt like you were being pulled into Itachi’s orbit. Without your conscious permission, one of your hands rose and gently cupped the left side of Itachi’s face, rubbing the soft skin there with your thumb.  

You searched his face for any sign of discomfort but found none. He opened his mouth to speak but no words came out.  

“You’re beautiful,” you whispered, reverently. Itachi’s eyes looked glossy for a moment, but he blinked the moisture away, his long, dark eyelashes fluttering open and closed as you studied him. “I know I’ve only been here for a day, but… Is it strange to say I really like you.’

Itachi took in a sharp breath, but slowly shook his head.

 “Then, may I kiss you?”

“Yes,” Itachi breathed out, immediately closing his eyes.

Good, because he was irresistible, and although you knew it wasn’t time for sex just yet, you hadn’t chosen erotica because you wanted a slow burn.

Slowly, giving Itachi ample time to change his mind, you inched your face closer to his until you could feel the warmth radiating from his skin. You expected to feel his breath too, but you quickly realised that he must have been holding it. How cute. Well, there was no need to leave him literally or figuratively holding his breath any longer.

You pressed forward and made the connection, warm lips against warm lips, your own eyes falling closed now too. Itachi let out a very quiet noise of surprise that you only heard because you were so close to him. You let out a little hum of your own, less out of shock and more out of satisfaction. You may have only known him for about five hours, but you’d been wanting to kiss him for at least four and a half of them.

The outside world faded away as you gently guided his lips with your own. The sound of the wind howling and the cottage walls groaning, the fire in the living room crackling, all of it was secondary to the kiss.

With your free arm, you looped Itachi around the waist and tugged him closer until your chests were pressed against each other. Itachi steadied himself with one hand on your raised elbow and the other on your shoulder. Being this close was making your alpha instincts incredibly smug. He felt safe with you so soon, willing to be vulnerable in your presence, to let you love him.

With just a little bit more pressure, Itachi’s lips parted for you. The tips of your tongues met ever so slightly, just flicking against each other as the back of your throat now burnt with Itachi’s scent. The open-mouthed kissing managed to coax another, louder, noise from his lips.

“So good,” you murmured against him, relishing in the gasp that generated. You had been right; Itachi loved being praised. He was still hesitant though, only moving his lips in ways you had already moved them. He was allowing you to guide him. You wondered if he was lacking experience.

You caught Itachi’s bottom lip between your teeth and were rewarded when he bucked his hips forward, brushing them against yours. You shouldn’t have bothered getting rid of the erection earlier, because it was now back at full force. And by the feel of it, Itachi was joining you this time.

A strange flash of light bled through your closed eyelids and forced you away from Itachi with a confused noise. What on Earth?

Itachi whined, looking incredibly dazed with heavy lidded eyes and no control over his scent. He fisted one hand in your shirt like he was trying to pull you back. For a second, you thought you saw his eyes flash red, but it was gone in the next moment, and you wrote it off as a trick of the light.

What was that light, anyway?

Oh, damn. You glanced over Itachi’s shoulder and were greeted with the three remaining lit candles burning out of control. Their flames reached up at least two feet above the wick, and they were burning… pink?

“Um, Itachi? Your candles are kind of going crazy.”

He whirled around, still looking a bit dazed. With a wave of his hand, the candles returned to their normal height and colour. Itachi cleared his throat bashfully, “I didn’t mean to do that, my apologies.”

It was kind of hot that he got so into the kiss that he’d lost control of his magic.

“It’s okay,” you brushed his fringe from his face, making sure to be ever so gentle with him. Itachi was not a weak person, that’s something you were sure of, but he was weak for gentle affection and praise. The vaguely stoic man you had met hours earlier was nowhere to be found now, as Itachi gazed at you, eyes wide and open, vulnerable. “Bedtime, hm?”

“Okay,” he said, softly. Despite his agreement, he made no move to the bed, only latching one of his hands onto your shirt again. Softly you pushed on his back a little and guided him towards the bed. Only once you fully tucked him in did he let go of you and allow you to climb into the other side.

Disappointingly, Itachi made no move to cuddle, staying firmly on his own side, but you understood that he probably needed some space to process what was happening. In fact, he had kind of looked a little like some of your old partners had done when you’d put them in subspace. But that couldn’t be right, there was no way you had put him in subspace just from kissing him, right? No, that was ludicrous, he was probably just a little overwhelmed; you would leave him to his own space for now.

It had been one hell of a kiss though, you thought, touching your lips as you got yourself comfortable in the bed. Itachi was doing things to your brain and your body. You didn’t know if it was him, some kind of magic, or the effect of living inside an erotica novel, but every touch felt like so much more. You were chomping at the bit to eventually get to explore more of Itachi’s body and the way you could make each other feel.

You yawned, thinking over the first day you’d had. It had been really fun. You still had to consider the specifics of what kind of backstory you wanted to give yourself, but you had plenty of time to figure that out later. You didn’t know how you were going to explain wandering the woods in the middle of a snowstorm what sounded like miles from the nearest village. You were also going to have to get your hands on a map at some point so you could name an actual place that you were supposedly from. That was a problem for future you though.

The quaint, cottage core existence had been treating you well, supplemented by magic of course. It was making you feel warm and fuzzy, like part of you was being healed by living like this. It was simple and relaxing, and all around nice. Tomorrow, when the search for the ingredients began, you were looking forward to seeing more of the world.

Just as you had finally found a comfortable position on your back, and your thoughts had begun to drift, Itachi turned over so that he was facing you. You couldn’t tell if he was fully asleep, or just tired and acting on impulse, but he quickly plastered himself to your side, tucking his head into your neck, wrapping an arm around your torso, and hitching a leg over your hips, inadvertently grinding his hard cock straight into your thigh. Once he was comfortable, he let out a big sigh and relaxed completely. It didn’t surprise you that someone so lonely and gentle wanted to cuddle in his sleep.

You weren’t going to move him, and you were too tired to think about the hard warmth that was currently poking you, so you simply allowed the sound of his quiet purrs to lull you to sleep. You would make sure he was satisfied once you’d both had a good sleep.

‘Goodnight, James,’ you mentally slurred out, tucking your face into Itachi’s hair. You vaguely heard her reply before you drifted away, comfortable and completely exhausted.

Next Chapter

[spooky-bunnys]

Could I request omegaverse Neji x male reader where in order to strengthen relationships with another clan Neji gets engaged to the other clan leaders son whose an Omega?

Like Neji is incredibly cold to him but reader keeps trying to show he's more than just a bargaining chip

I'm not just some Omega

When Neji found out he was being betrothed to an Omega from (Clans Name) he was upset. Rightfully so. The Omegas he had met were no good weak, gold diggers that only cared about getting the biggest baddest Alpha with a lot of money. So he figured this Omega would just be the same.

When (Name) found out he was betrothed to he was egangged to Neji of all people, he was nervous. Neji had a rough opinion on Omegas. Luckily though, (Name) isn't like the typical Omega. His father raised him to not rely on an Alpha. In fact, (Name) was stronger and smarter then most Alpha's in the Village.

Most Alpha's didn't like him since he didn't act like most Omegas. He didn't lay around waiting for an Alpha to save him. Or for an Alpha to tell him to get on his knees and beg for attention. No. (Name) doesn't want an Alpha that'll smother him in "attention". He doesn't want to be viewed as an Omega. He wants to be viewed as a Shinobi and an equal.

It was two weeks after the announcement of the engagement for the two to meet. Neji was taking a stroll around the village when he saw a beautiful male Omega walking into a training ground. 'Probably looking for an Alpha to follow around'. Neji thought rolling his eyes.

But when he caught a certain (scent) he unconsciously followed the Omega. What Nei wasn't expecting was for the Omega to be so....non-omega. This Omega was throwing ninja weapons like it was the most easiest thing. Breaking trees with strength he's only seen from Sakura while she's been training with the Hokage.

Neji was hypnotized by the beauty that was this Shinobu. He's never seen an Omega like this. Ever. He was so surprised he didn't even notice that the Omega had throw a Boulder in his direction until it wasn't that far from him. "Look out!" Neji went to punch the Boulder until the Omega with such grace kicked it. Shattering it into just mere pebbles.

"Oh my Kami! Neji I'm so sorry! I was so busy training I didn't notice you come in." Neji looked at him confused. "Do I know you?" The Omega looked hurt. "I'm (Name). I'm your betrothed from (Clans Name)." Neji felt like a huge weight was lifted from his shoulders. This is supposed to be his Omega?

This graceful, beautiful, strong shinobi? "You..." Neji lightly blushed and looked away. "Your my Omega?" (Name) blushed brightly and lightly played with his hair and nodded shyly. "Yeah. Sorry. I know most Omegas don't train but-". Neji cut him off quickly. "No! I actually like that you train. Most Omegas I've seen usually hide-".

(Name) cut Neji off with a sour look. "Yeah I know. Hide behind Alphas. I'm not like most Omegas if you can't tell. I don't need to hide behind an Alpha or ANYONE for that matter. I was raised to be an appropriate and loving wife and mother but, to also to not take shit and to fight by my father." Neji smirked.

"That sounds like a perfect Omega to me. I don't want a normal housewife Omega. I want one that isn't like most and if I'm correct I got just that." (Name) smiled softly and flipped his hair and started walking away. Neji was confused. "Where are you going?" (Name) then looked over his left shoulder and smirked. "I'm gonna go and make some food. Wanna join me for dinner Alpha~?"

Neji smirk grew wider and he growled playfully and chased after the Omega that ran quite quickly and gracefully. This Omega was his perfect Omega. He doesn't need a big strong Alpha with big pockets. He needed an Alpha that loved him for who he was. Shinobi and all. Neji can't wait for his future with his Omega.

[mcverse]

☆ 𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝: 𝐘𝐞𝐬/𝐍𝐨

☆ 𝐓𝐲𝐩𝐞: 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭

☆ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐚 𝐝𝐚𝐬𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤, 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬, 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐛𝐚 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐫𝐮𝐭, 𝐩 𝐢𝐧 𝐯, 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐬𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚, 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬, 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝, 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠

☆ 𝐒𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐫: 𝐈 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐫𝐮𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐧𝐨𝐭? 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐧𝐞𝐮𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐥.

Given your current circumstances—no, wrong choice of words—considering the position you’re in right now, you can’t seem to recall why you reached out to Kiba for help with your stretching. Had you known it would lead to this, you might have sought assistance elsewhere to avoid the situation altogether.

Not that the stretching wasn’t effective—it did indeed offer an enhanced pre-warm up experience with a satisfying burn—but it came with an unexpected extra obstacle.

You didn't anticipate that he could go into a rut. In fact, you never thought he even experienced those and yet, here you are: manhandled into a matting press, knees placed at head level and Kiba just feverntly fucking you like you were his life line.

From the beginning until now, you’ve chosen not to resist, instead lying there, pliable, and taking everything he gives like the good cock sleeve you are.

The moment he enters you, he's lost in ecstasy, a deep growl reverberating from deep within his chest each time he hits that sweet spot, making you tighten around him. You're reduced to a quivering, whimpering state, with crossed eyes and curling toes as he bullies your poor pussy till it’s left drooling like he is at the sight of you under him.

Amidst the blurred vision and hazy mind, you see him staring at the point where you are connected, his brows furrowed in concentration. In seconds, he meets your eyes, his pupils wide, teeth clenched together, and lips slightly pulled back.

"You haven't a damn clue," he grumbles, tightening his grip on your thighs, his knuckles turning white. "I’ve thought about fucking you like this forever. Just my luck you needed an extra set of hands.”

He was certainly going to leave you with a bruise or two by morning, perhaps making you bedridden for a few days as well. But right now, those concerns were the least of your worries as he leaned forward, persistently driving his fat, knot forming at the base, cock inside you and shifting your legs until your knees met the bed beside your head.

The new angle elicits soft mewls from you. Never before had a man reached so deeply within you, hitting all the right spots and taking control so wholly that it leaves you so submissive.

It feels primitive, almost animalistic, the way he pounds into your drenching walls, his eyes betraying a growing desperation as he observes your face contort with pleasure. It's a sinful beauty, tempting him to devour you once he's done.

"That's it. Am I making you feel good, yeah?," he asks, spreading his own legs wider, his chest heaving as he grinds his hips against yours, his weighty balls making a sound as they connect with your backside. "You look so pretty in this position—like it was meant for you. To be my breeding bitch."

His words, intended to provoke, have the opposite effect on your body. Your desire intensifies, causing your pussy to pulse around him, clamping down tighter. Kiba growls, a wicked grin spreading across his face as he thrusts harder, taunting you, "You enjoy that? Wanting to be my breeding bitch, huh?"

He teases with a sensuous sway of his hips, "Well, choose your words wisely, or I might just make you a mother," he coos roughly, his balls tightening. It's clear that he means every word, and the hungry, glazed look in his eyes confirms it. In the heat of the moment, he's too lost in your sweet pussy to consider the consequences.

Making him a father might be the rut talking, but he couldn't care less at this moment. All that matters to him is getting his fill of you. He's waited a long time to risk your friendship, and if having you appear utterly blissed out beneath him is the result, then that wait was worthwhile.

Your hair sticking to your glistening skin, legs trembling in his grasp—he takes pride in the idea that he can make you feel so good that you become weak, despite you not really doing much at all.

He's the one doing all the work, rutting into you as if it were his fist on an adrenaline-fueled Friday night. It’s him who has you desperately searching for something to hold onto, anything to keep you grounded as you lose yourself on his cock.

He makes you writhe, reaching down to tease your clit, and your moans escalate into delighted squeals as the combination of pleasures proves almost too intense to bear.

He snarls as your squirming turns into an attempt to escape. "Hey, where the hell do you think you're going?" he growls, releasing one of your thighs and pressing on your pelvis with a hand, his thumb ghosting your clit, immobilizing you.

You send him a wounded, pleading expression. "Don't give me those innocent eyes. You wanted this, remember?" he reminds you, reflecting on the events that brought you both to this moment.

You and all your compromising positions, the “force my body to go as far as it can to test your limit” speech. He mutters, “You can’t tap out now. You haven’t even taken my knot yet,” his voice fills with deep desire, his eyes lost in a wild daydream. “I’m going to fill you up completely, just to lock it in. We’ll have pups running around before you know it!”

The thought of having children never interested you, but when he refers to them as "pups" with a wildness in his eyes, it triggers something unexpected in your mind. Your words escape before you fully realize it, "You'd make a great daddy," and before you know it, it's too late.

In an instant, he changes positions, pulling you onto his lap as he rises to his knees. His large, calloused hands firmly grasp both your cheeks, parting them, his claws digging into your flesh before lifting you off him just as he pulls back and thrusts forward, impaling you once again on his cock.

You're left breathless by the force with which he enters you, each thrust more intense than the last. His guttural grunts resonate as he buries his face in your neck. "Gonna make you nice and round," he growls between erratic thrusts, "So big you’ll be walking funny. Right now, it’ll be for a different reason."

You envelop his broad shoulders with your arms, drawing him in so close that the heat between your bodies is almost suffocating. You have no choice but to hold on as he guides you to move up and down on his cock, each motion causing the perfectly curved head to expertly hit your g-spot.

"Right there—yes, yes!" you moan as the tension in your lower abdomen tightens. It's becoming increasingly difficult to catch your breath as he repeats his tantalizing rhythm.

"!!!..." Kiba huffs, his face contorted with disbelief and amazement as he feels your intense tightness. "You're so tight—are you finna come?" he asks, as if he can't quite believe it's actually happening, a long-held dream coming true.

"Hell yeah, baby," he praise with more confidence, his hands shifting to grip your hips firmly, the grip just as bruising as the last.

“Damn pussy’s been greedy! I can barely pull back." He struggles to form coherent sentences as your body reacts to his words and his movements lose their rhythm, focusing on the raw power behind each thrust.

There’s this desperation in his voice that triggers your orgasm. It's like a searing wave of pleasure that surges through you, causing your core to spasm around his cock. A momentary dizziness washes over you, but it's not concerning; instead, it feels like you're floating on the softest, most comfortable cloud.

Your blissful reverie is interrupted when you sense a subtle and unfamiliar pressure at your entrance. It's then that you realize Kiba is attempting to push his knot inside.

At first, it's a gentle, rhythmic motion as he rocks back and forth, his gaze fixed intensely on the act of pushing his knot inside. He applies more pressure, and his mouth falls open as he experiences the start of your pussy enveloping his knot.

"God..." he mutters, wrapping an arm around your waist and gripping one of your thighs. "God..." he continues, gradually inching further inside you.

"It's so big!" you whimper softly, your eyes fixed on him as he persists. The sensation isn't painful, but the stretching is beyond anything you've ever experienced.

You thought you were already at your limit, but you're being pushed past what you believed you could handle. It seems almost impossible, yet Kiba's determination knows no bounds.

"It can fit. It will fit," he reassures you, holding you even tighter as he's halfway in, the thickest part of his base filling you intensely. "Almost there, baby," he breathes out sharply, his body trembling more than yours. Suddenly, in one swift motion, he thrusts the rest of the way, and you both groan simultaneously, each for your own unique reasons.

He eases you onto your back, his hips initially moving at a slow and deliberate pace that teases you, pushing you to the brink of another orgasm. His knot drags against your snug walls, wrestling with your tightness, and he's savoring every moment inside your pussy. His arms quiver as he resists the urge to forcefully pull his knot out and back in, fearing he might hurt you.

Instead, he settles for letting it nudge at your entrance before thrusting up again, gradually building momentum. This new rhythm takes you by surprise, and your second orgasm crashes over you, leaving you breathless as you continue to adjust to the sensation of being incredibly full.

He groans with a feral intensity, his hips moving vigorously against yours as you ride out your high, his mind muddied to filth as he chases his first of many for the night. Despite the knot, his fervent movements prolong your orgasm, allowing you both to share in the ecstasy as he pushes as deeply as he can.

Your hips press firmly against his, and he releases warm spurts of cum deep into your womb. You wrap your legs tightly around him, moaning wantonly as it seems to keep flowing, yet none of it escapes, remaining trapped inside you like a stopper in a drain.

Kiba collapses atop you, his face nuzzling into your neck as he mumbles, "Mine." His lips graze your skin, gently tracing the rhythm of your pulse before he suddenly bites down hard.

You yelp in surprise, "Ow, what was that for?" You attempt to catch his gaze, but he avoids making eye contact, a mischievous smirk dancing on his lips as he licks the wounded skin.

"You should rest up," he suggests, chuckling. "The second this knot shrinks, you’ll be wishing you listened."

☆ ​𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞

[fengkye]

☆ᯓ “Do you..want me..to scent you?”

❀⇝ᗩ/ᑎ: hi!!! Omg, this is one of my first posts on here!! I hope you guys like it!! requests r open too! feel free to req!

alpha!ssk, omega!reader (male, fem, whatevs you want!) scenting, ssk being an uncertain alpha, no uses of y/n

ੈ✩‧₊˚☄. *. ⋆⍣ * ˚ ✦

🍙⋆ ★ You felt real bad, bad as in, it was a bit overwhelming to even get ready in the morning. 🍙⋆ ★ It was suffocating, at least, to you, and you thought that it might never end. 🍙⋆ ★ It was yet again, another restless morning. It was quiet. Yet, you felt uneasy still. Like, it was a good life, a mate that loved you, an okay life style, it was a dream for other omegas. 🍙⋆ ★ still, it felt like something was wrong. and it felt wrong to think that. staring into the bedsheets and scrunched blankets as you rose from the laying position you once were at. eyes narrowing into the wrinkles of the fabric under you. 🍙⋆ ★ was Sasuke on a mission again? maybe, what time was it even? you looked over the clock, eyes glazing over the numbers that seemed to shine out "11:42 AM." 🍙⋆ ★ silently, you got out of bed. doing your usual. brushing your hair, brushing your teeth, changing, washing your face. whatever. 🍙⋆ ★ rubbing your eyes as you were walking out the bathroom, soon bumping into a broad chest. the familiar scent of what seemed to be rainwood and a bit of smokey-comfort filled your nostrils. immediately easing yourself in every way. "hey." The familiar deep and subtle voice spoke, as you melted into his arms. your beloved mate caved his muscular arms around your wavering body. "hi." you replied, face muffled into the fabric of Sasuke's chest. taking another deep inhale of his natural scent. rainwood and smoke didn't seem like a perfect mixture, but sure as hell put you into any state of comfort. 🍙⋆ ★ Sasuke was a bit confused, moreover concerned why his omega was so tired. he smelt it in you, he saw it in you, it's been a bit dry how you were. and that wasn't good to the Uchiha. "are you okay?" he asked again, a bit unsure what to do. besides his primal instincts obviously telling him to help you, the alpha himself wasn't one for comforting. 🍙⋆ ★ and tbh, he felt more guilt because of that. (I'M GROVELING AT THE FLOOR DON'T THIN KTHAT HARGRHGRGRRR) you responded with a small hum, nodding your head. your hair ruffling against his shirt as he let nervously inhaled. thoughts racing in his mind of what to do. what would a normal alpha do? his mind clicked after a few seconds, well, it was the fastest and most simple way possible. yet, sasuke felt a bit embarrassed how he was asking--it really made him question his own place as an alpha. 🍙⋆ ★ "do you..want me..to scent you?" he asked, feeling himself become more hesitant with himself. he loved your scent, but he missed when it wasn't so sour and bitter now. ever since you started showing signs of ignorance and small irritated icks. 🍙⋆ ★ honestly, it was a bit surprising at first. the way he was just randomly asking that. you really didn't expect him to ask that, you expected to just take a whiff of his scent and go. "ya.." you replied flatly. letting out a small mewl when the Uchiha swept you up. 🍙⋆ ★ and with that, sasuke took you to your shared bedroom. placing you down gently onto the scrambled sheets that you dragged yourself out of earlier. it felt nice to be back. also made you think that you just got up and got ready for nothing. the alpha carefully shimmied next to you, the bed dipping as Sasuke moved closer to you. to which you caught him by surprise, immediately wrapping your body around him. the room mixing with both of your scents. 🍙⋆ ★ you already felt better. "oh.." he spoke gently, subtle dark eyes closing as he felt you immediately sniffing into his neck and shoulder. close to his scent glands. Sasuke felt a bit awkward since he was the one who suggested this cuddle session, yet you were taking the lead by a bunch. his arms wrapped around you again, soothing your tensed body into relaxation. your scent was perfect to him. he dipped his nose into your hair, taking a big whiff of satisfaction. the Uchiha was happy that he atleast made you feel better. he kissed gently at your forehead, to which you purred at. 🍙⋆ ★ this was truly, truly everything you could've asked for.

[doeinstinct]

W-W-W-WHAT IS UP TOBIMAMA NATION!! HOW Y'ALL DOIN' TONIGHT?

and if ye feel brave, seek below the depths for a treat

(it's the naked version)

[ircn-mvn]

tw: omegaverse (omega!naruto, alpha!shikamaru), canon disability

The War was over. 

Shikamaru had it on good authority that Naruto and Sasuke had made up, and he wouldn’t be surprised to learn the pair had bonded. They were meant to be after all. Or at least, many of their peers thought so.

It was the reason Shikamaru had yet to go looking for Naruto. He wasn’t certain he could handle another heartache so soon. Mourning Shikaku was hard enough. He didn’t have it in him to mourn what could have been. What Naruto and him had shared and what they could have had together.

Thankfully, Tsunade and Kakashi kept him busy. 

Shikamaru managed to avoid facing the truth for a little under 24 hours before Tsunade was summoned to the hospital. The message said Naruto wasn’t doing as well as they had thought. His recovery had slowed significantly.

It made sense if they had locked up his mate right after they bonded.

Still, Shikamaru followed Tsunade to Naruto’s hospital room.

The scent of an omega in distress hit them immediately. Yet Naruto wasn’t acting like one. He was sitting with crossed legs on his bed, listening to whatever Sakura had been telling him with a soft smile on his lips.

He wasn’t hiding in a nest — an instinctual response to trauma. He wasn’t crying or dissociating as Shikamaru had hypothesized.

“Baachan —!” Naruto started. 

However, he promptly interrupted himself as he noticed Shikamaru behind Tsunade. His blue eyes widened, and his face did something complicated, his emotions unclear to Shikamaru.

“Shikamaru,” Naruto said at last.

It was barely a whisper, but it still caught Shikamaru off guard. As did Naruto’s next move. The omega got up from his bed, and the alpha took a step forward on instinct. 

Was he even supposed to be standing? 

Naruto swiftly crossed the distance between them, his exhaustion betrayed by nothing, but a faint blush. Shikamaru briefly thought about pressing his lips to the overheated skin. 

But that was before all his thoughts came to a halt as Naruto put his only arm around him. The omega brought their bodies together, leaving no space whatsoever between them. Naruto’s face found itself pressed against Shikamaru’s neck — his nose rubbing his scent patch — and Shikamaru’s breath hitched.

This wasn’t mated-omega’s behavior. Naruto hadn’t received a thorough education on Secondary Genders — Shikamaru knew as much from their shared childhood — but he couldn’t imagine him disrespecting his mate like this. That and the fact Shikamaru couldn’t smell Sasuke on him at all. 

He also had a pretty good view of Naruto’s neck. His scent patch was missing, but so was any trace of a mating bite. Had Kurama healed it already? Or was Naruto truly unbonded?

Did it matter?

Naruto was in distress and seeking comfort from Shikamaru, and truthfully, it was all that really mattered to him at that moment.

He took off his scent patch, having completely forgotten about Tsunade and Sakura’s presence. 

If he believed Temari, Shikamaru smelled of the forest and something akin to a campfire. Naruto smelled of sunshine, as ridiculous as it might sound. A warm summer breeze, red peppers — the ones used to spice up ramens — and something else he never could put his finger on but was what made Naruto’s scent unique, and the best Shikamaru had ever encountered.

Shikamaru’s arms closed around Naruto and the omega immediately relaxed further against him. His scent was turning from obvious distress to… Was it happiness? In any case, it soothed Shikamaru’s pain. At least partially. 

His head fell to Naruto’s shoulder before he tentatively imitated the omega and brushed his nose against Naruto’s scent gland. The omega jumped slightly before clinging to him even harder. His scent got sweeter. It was intoxicating.

“Well, I suppose I’m not needed after all,” Tsunade said.

Shikamaru tensed but didn’t move. Naruto mumbled something against his neck, his lips brushing Shikamaru’s skin in the process and distracting him from trying to make sense of any of it.

“What was that brat?” Tsunade asked.

“I said I’m fine,” Naruto said. Or more like exclaimed a little too close to Shikamaru’s ear but he still couldn’t bring himself to break their embrace. 

“Hmhm… You know, we would have understood if you had told us you two were pre-bonded, Shikamaru. Kakashi is actually more capable than he likes Iruka-Sensei and you to think.” Tsunade added.

“We are not —” he started. 

There was a slight tremor in Naruto’s hold on his jacket. He needed to choose his next words carefully.

“There hadn’t been any time for anything of the sort,” he said in the end. “Also now the war is over, I was hoping to ask him — you, Naruto — out, on a dat —?”

“Yes!”

They moved just enough to be able to look each other in the eyes. Naruto’s flushed face matched his own.

“But we already went on dates, no?” Naruto asked. He sounded uncertain. “I mean, you invited me to eat every time I got back to the village and I thought… Iruka and Kakashi said you were courting me?”

Iruka and Kakashi, uh? The latest was lucky he was Hokage. 

“I was,” he said. “I just wasn’t sure you were aware of it… or if it was something you wanted.”

“Why wouldn’t I want to date you? You are… you! And you were my first friend!”

“Yeah, and you are you, Naruto,” Shikamaru replied. “Usually, omega bond to alphas who match their strength or are even stronger, I’m not —”

“You are strong!” Naruto protested. “And even if you weren’t, I don’t need protection, I need…”

Shikamaru wished they weren’t having this conversation in front of an audience but here they were. (What a drag, ah.)

“I love you,” he said as Naruto trailed off.

There was a squeaky sound in the background that Shikamaru suspected to be Sakura’s reaction while Naruto didn’t outwardly react at first. However, because he had been paying attention to it previously, Shikamaru noticed the way Naruto’s heart skipped a beat.

“Oh,” Naruto said. The brightest of smiles suddenly appeared on his face, his blue eyes watering slightly as they never left Shikamaru’s. “I love you too. A lot.”

And well, maybe all hope wasn’t lost after all.

[omegamusings-writigs]

[hc] Being Omega!Gaara’s Alpha

Originally posted: Aug 07, 2020 Re-posted: Dec 29, 2022

Masterlist

Naruto Masterlist

you met gaara on a mission with team 7

your own team mates were all hospitalized in a past mission so you were sent with kakashi’s team to deal with some bandits at the border to the land of wind

during your fight against sand shinobi, your alpha instincts urged you into taking a kunai for the redheaded omega

gaara is shocked

naruto is pissed at you and starts yelling about ultimate defense

you realize later that it was completely senseless for you to jump in front of gaara, seeing as how he is protected by his sand

you and gaara grow closer during the mission, to the surprise of everyone

after the mission is over, you keep in touch with gaara through letters

you see each other a few times on different missions but when he becomes kazegake, this stops

gaara won’t admit it but he misses seeing you, even if it was a somewhat rare occurrence

it isn’t long into his reign as kazegage, that you start receiving letters of him in which he complains about the council pushing him to finding an alpha

really the council had only brought it up like once that he should consider finding a mate soon but gaara secretly hopes that if you think he is supposed to find an alpha, you might come and claim him

you don’t see this though and actually think the exact opposite, that he is trying to politely let you know that he will be finding an alpha in sunagakure and is trying to break contact

when you learn of him getting kidnapped by the akatsuki however, you go ballistic and follow naruto to save your omega

you break down when you find him dead and as chiyo gives her life for him, you are more than thankful to her

she tells you to grow some balls and confess to him when he’s awake since everyone can smell your distressed alpha scent

you listen to her advise and tell gaara of your feelings as soon as he’s able to comprehend things said to him

as he tells you that he feels the same for you and your scent shifts again, everyone around you is cheering

you move to sunagakure relatively quickly since he, as kazekage, can’t leave and you can’t really keep an alpha from their omega for long

now finally getting into your relationship:

this omega is touch!! starved!!

when he isn’t on duty he needs all them cuddles, always

also, get’s super soft if you tell him what a good omega he is

after you move to sunagakure, he asks you to mark him pretty quickly

blushes the whole time tho

if you become a sand shinobi, he absolutely hates sending you on missions

you already don’t have a lot of time to spend together because of his duties as kazekage and it’s even worse if you’re on missions

so he will prefer if you become an instructor or stop being a shinobi altogether but he won’t stop you from doing what you want because he wants you to be happy

he won’t admit it but he loves seeing you get along with his siblings

generally, he isn’t very vocal about his affections

shows it instead by literally clinging to you when you are alone

[cannellee]

NARUTO OMEGAVERSE ☆

alpha!sasuke x alpha!naruto x omega!reader (f)

— what is it like being team 7's omega ?

my masterlist : ☆

ALPHA!NARUTO X ALPHA!SASUKE

the moment it was announced that you were going to be a part of naruto and sasuke's team, you knew it would be difficult.

being both alphas, they're naturally in competition most of the time, but adding an omega to their quarrel made things even worse.

it's in their nature to seek their close omega friends' attention. you didn't particularly favour any of them, but naruto was ready to prove anyone else he could be a better partner to you than sasuke.

from this day on, the two of them started to fight even more than usual.

THEIR DYNAMICS

sasuke is a silent type of alpha, but you noticed he didn't particularly try to drive you away. he didn't seem to get annoyed either when you talked to him, you figured it was a privilege reserved to naruto alone.

actually, it's safe to say that sasuke always made sure you were out of danger while out on missions.

he wasn't exactly doubting your level, but he didn't trust you and your abilities fully. his nature made it hard for him to just ignore an omega in possible danger.

it was kind but subtle gestures, noticable to those who paid attention.

whereas for naruto, he was eager to replace you, to tell you to stay away and let him do the work. he didn't mean to come off as condescending nor disrespectful, he was just extremely preoccupied by your safety and wanted to show you he could take care of you.

it didn't take much time for you guys to become a real little pack. both had their antics and grudges, but deep down you knew they both liked each other in their own way.

you played a big part on how they interacted with each other, without you realising. your calming presence and gentle scent helped the two alphas chill down a bit.

your nurturing instincts also contribute to the cohesion of your team. you sometimes act like a mediator, having little to no trouble to resolve conflicts. kakashi has even given up trying to appease those two when they start arguing and directly lets you do your thing. you always succeed in maintaining a good harmony between the three of you, he's really thankful!

your secret trick is letting naruto scent you as long as he wants, he loves to be able to claim you like this, it appeases him so much! it does get on the nerves of sasuke who curses at him to let you go though.

moreover, they may fight once in a will and throw snarky remarks to the other, but if it comes to you, your safety or your mood, they immediately work hand in hand to reassure you.

it would be one of the rare time you'll hear sasuke be so openly mean at someone. he doesn't even foster the idea of an enemy targeting you.

come back injured and you'll be heavily questioned so he can track the one responsible.

both care so much about you, it's safe to say you bring a sense of unity that wouldn't be present if it wasn't for you.

if the three of you were out at a restaurant for example, it was a tacit rule for you to sit between naruto and sasuke.

they pay extra attention to you, naruto in a more exaggerated manner than sasuke, but you noticed sasuke warmed up to you really quickly after you guys first met.

none of them will ever let anybody disrespect their partner, and they trust each other completely to look after you.

sasuke might let his scent spread widely around you, to hold off other people. whether you notice it or not doesn't matter, he will do it regardless.

don't be fooled, they both are very jealous alphas!

naruto expresses his openly, whether it's a friendly interaction that seemed too close for comfort or a compliment directed at you, he'll playfully pout or at least put his claim on you to reaffirm his position as your alpha.

sasuke's is a bit harder to perceive but present nonetheless. you're able to notice it in the way his jaw tightens, the look of his narrow eyes and protective stance.

they both consider you theirs, it's only natural they drive away other alphas. now that they grew much closer, they only accept gestures of affection directed to you, if it comes from one of them.

they also understand you're an omega and your needs manifest differently than theirs. if you need alone time, guidance or to get away from any situation... they got your back! they'll go even as far as giving you their strongly scented clothes and note down every food you like and dislike to make sure you get your favourite next time.

sasuke is at peace with how he feels about you : he likes you a lot and wants to keep you safe. the long days and hours you spent together as teammates forced the three of you to build an unbreakable bond.

their initial alpha rivalry transformed into a playful banter now. they tease each other and use their omega's laughter to measure their victory against each other.

sasuke still likes to mock naruto in front of you, because he knows it makes him embarrassed and it makes you laugh. they love the sound you make, and your lighthearted scent is like a reward.

you might not notice it, but sasuke pays close attention to you and you can expect sweet gifts from him, like pretty flowers which caught his eyes while on mission and reminded him of you.

during training, both of them become very reliable teachers. they want to demonstrate, help you with certain moves... but always having in mind to keep you away from harm.

the same goes for missions, they'll always step in if they assume you're in danger. and they'll do it over and over again, they don't even consider that as annoying or a burden to their mission.

if you think they're doing too much and you want them to calm down with all their protection, they'll understand and let you manage your thing alone. just know that they'll still have an eye on you.

naruto is very passionate and yes, he'll jump in front of you to shield you from anything. he's like a steadfast guardian you know you can count on, no matter how much he likes joking around.

however, sasuke is protective by placing a vigilant eye over you. he assesses potential threats and his actions are calculated. his protective nature is rooted in a silent commitment to keep safe what he holds dear, in this case, you.

during missions, both will offer their hand or arm to cross a particularly tricky path, they'll regularly ask you how you're feeling and if you need a break. if you do, they'll let you rest and go search for some food while the other is inspecting the surroundings.

overall, they are very careful and attentive.

and it really does make you feel protected and safe. you wouldn't trade you team for nothing in the world!

[sapphyrwind]

Valentine's day art gift 🩷 inspired by a fic (Intertwined by @lilypheria 😇) which was inspired by my kitty sas arts hehe!

[tired-biscuit]

18+ MDNI, fem!omega!reader/alpha!kiba // cw: omegaverse, knotting, breeding. established relationship.

↳ you slip into heat at the worst time imaginable; right on kiba’s 30th birthday. as a result, nothing goes according to plan.

“ugh, i’m so sorry.”

you barely recognize the sound of your own voice as you listen to the quiet sigh your boyfriend lets out as soon as he wraps his strong arms around you from behind.

your bedroom is enveloped in darkness despite the fact that it’s summer — a particularly hot one this year — and the alarm clock on your nightstand shows that it’s barely a little past eight in the evening. it’s still light outside, the sky is clear and pretty, but the curtains that frame your window are drawn tight. the only source of light comes in the form of a single orange streak that seeps from the hallway through the crack in the door.

as of right now, it sits on the corner of your pillow that you’re resting your head on, unmoving. judging by the progressing hour, as well as the way faint warmth begins to tickle the top of your head at that very instant, you suppose it won’t take long until the ray settles on your already much too hot cheek as well.

nuzzling your face further into the cotton, crisp white bedding, you can’t help but let your eyes roll in evident dread at the realization. if your current situation is to be taken into any form of consideration, extra heat is the last thing you need right now.

kiba’s weight makes him sink deeper into the mattress when he readjusts on top of the bed you’d spent ages curled up in, trying to find solace all by yourself; that is until he’d shown up.

he had barely stepped foot inside your apartment when the scent of what was going on had hit him square in the face and had led him straight to you. granted, you’d vaguely texted him about it beforehand as to not make him worry too much, whilst also explaining why you couldn’t make it to his birthday dinner, but nothing could have prepared him for this.

and while he’d thought he could handle it as he sat in his car and drove over to your place instead of the restaurant where you were supposed to meet, he’s not so sure that can be the case anymore.

after all, you smell outright intoxicating. it’s so profound and intense, your scent. so sweet that it almost makes his teeth ache. but it’s not just the smell of you that coaxes him to slip into protector mode and start acting on instinct — though it is a key factor here. no, it’s the fact that every single aspect of you in that very moment is designed to lure an alpha like him right in. to lock him into mating.

always known to be a headstrong, self-assured kind of man; one with clear boundaries and a rare ability to make definite choices without any sort of trouble — oftentimes on a whim — kiba finds himself feeling perplexed for the first time in a long while.

to put it simply, he doesn’t know what to do. he’s got his girlfriend, a naked omega in heat, wrapped in his arms. he’s got the most raging boner that he’s ever had in his life twitching and throbbing in his pants, pressing so stubbornly against the zipper that it hurts like a motherfucker. he’s got a sudden wildfire overtaking his senses and fast-crumbling sanity.

but what he doesn’t have is consent.

every inhale he executes now, it’s like he’s turning into a brainless insect at best. you’re pure sugar, fruit dipped in honey, and every thought he has dissipates into nothing because of it. he’s ready to carelessly drown in the nectar if it means you’ll let him devour you whole.

will you, though?

god, never mind that for now; his pushy alpha brain cannot possibly bring itself to think about you refusing him at a crucial time like this. all that matters is that he shows you that he’s ready to help you out, to make it clear as day. your sudden heat has induced a rut from his side and it’s starting to give him a fever as the first signs of it step into the spotlight.

it’s all happening so fast, his pants are already feeling way too tight. there’s a blush creeping up his neck, tinting his ears and cheeks a bright red, and pre-cum is turning his underwear sticky. one second he was fine, albeit slightly worried for your wellbeing. now, he’s horny out of his fucking mind and his dick just won’t stop growing bigger.

so as a result, his shoes now lay discarded in the middle of your bedroom from the way he had hurried to get to you as soon as possible. his keys and phone had practically been tossed to the side on your nightstand, carelessly. the screen sometimes lights up with birthday wishes from friends and family, most of who you’ve already met, but neither of you cares about it in that moment. he’ll type his thank you’s in the morning.

you exhale a breath you’d forgotten you were holding when he brings you closer to his chest, embracing you until your limbs become entangled with his own longer ones and your naked spine touches the buttons of the fancy navy blue button up shirt you’d suggested he put on back when you’d still thought you could endure this entire ordeal that you’re currently suffering through.

his belt buckle is cold. it almost feels like a blessing when it presses against your sizzling hot skin.

“hey,” is all he says.

“oh, god,” you grit out in reply, practically heaving at this point. the amount of saliva that starts to gather on the flat of your tongue the moment your body senses he’s near is ungodly. it’s unnatural, the way you respond to him.

“i know,” he coos softly even if he doesn’t know; he can’t possibly know what it’s like to endure a thing like this. but he tries. “here, lemme… i gotcha, baby. shh.”

a strangled little sound leaves your lips when he holds you still and starts to scent you without even giving it a second thought. to the surprise of both of you, you comply without any sort of fuss as he drags his hands all over your stiff, naked body, effectively easing the overly tense muscle into something a bit more lax and bearable. you don’t even notice how hard you’d been clenching your jaw until he coaxes you into relaxing it with a couple of strokes from his fingers.

slipping into heat completely unprepared can be a pesky little thing for an organized, perfectionist omega like yourself. when you’re so used to leading an independent lifestyle in a society that certainly doesn’t lend you a helping hand with it, and indulge in endless persistance of being in complete control of your body at all times, the occasional flood of hormones that turns you embarrassingly docile is immensely unwelcomed as far as you’re concerned.

yes, blatantly aching to be bred by your alpha’s cock like you’re some bitch in heat is seen as embarrassing in your eyes even if that’s exactly what you are. you believe there’s a lot more to you than just rolling onto your back and acting submissive towards your more dominant partner, thus listening to that wretched primal part of your brain that’s taken center stage inside your skull for now, but at the same time…

it is just so unbelievably hard to fight instinct when he’s right there behind you, with his hips pressed so closely to your own. so hard to ignore and not burn at the way his touch turns noticeably more possessive over the span of a couple of moments of comforting strokes he otherwise gives to your body. so hard to dismiss the way your heartbeats align and your cores reach the exact same temperature.

he even smells invitingly delicious. the rut you’d unintentionally sent him spiralling into had changed the base of his scent in mere minutes. its only aim now is to make him as alluring as possible to you so that you will enable him to mate and reproduce. and he’s not even to blame.

aftershave riddles his otherwise signaturely musky scent; it softens the almost overbearing notes of pure alpha. when he raises his hand to stroke his fingers along your jaw for a second time around, you’re briefly present enough to also catch hints of coconut adorning his tan skin. it’s rich and summery, perfectly him.

he must have used the pricey shower gel you’d bought to surprise him for your anniversary a few months back, because he’s gotten all tidied up for date night that’s now definitely not going to happen because of your ‘condition’, or whatever you want to call it.

either way, it’s the fucking worst. to say that the entire thing is a bust would be an understatement. even the super secret birthday party that you’ve planned for ages had to be rescheduled because of the way how your skin feels like it’s being pulled too tight over your bones, the flames erupting.

i mean, slick is literally dripping out of your soaked pussy like you’re a fucking hose, goddammit. did you really think you’d be suitable for socializing in your current state?

part of it is your own fault, you suppose. ignoring the symptoms and the evident increase in your body temperature that’s been building up over the last few days because you had something to prove was a stupid idea. believing the fact that your sheer will and determination would be able to keep the worst of your heat at bay, without the usage of any sort of suppressants at least until the weekend had passed, had been an even stupider one.

and now you’re stuck paying the consequences.

“i’m sorry,” you feebly parrot the apology that you’re still slightly unsure about if you mean to give to him or yourself. perhaps it’s both. at this point, who knows?

there’s a beat of silence before he whispers, “you’re sorry for what?”

the rasp in his voice pulls you back from your troubled thoughts that just won’t stop whirling around one possible solution to this agony: dick.

have you really stooped so low?

fighting to at least keep your sanity if you can’t keep your pride, you try to focus whilst straining your ears. try to actually listen to him. despite speaking quietly, he sounds almost breathless. like he’s struggling to be in your presence, doing absolutely nothing about the problem at hand.

you should let him do something. better yet, you should let him in.

come on. be a good girl. a good little omega.

let him in.

“for, uh… mmh,” your brow furrows as you try to find the right words you’re looking for. fuck this stupid omega brain of yours, truly. “for ruining your birthday just like i’m ruining your pants right now; gosh, i dunno.”

heat sears your face at the thought of the milky white residue you’ve surely left coating his jeans in copious amounts. instead of keeping you in-check, the image of it only makes you all the more hot and bothered. god help you.

“it’s fine,” he assures you way too fast, swallowing thickly.

the action is audible. listening to it, you can imagine how his adam’s apple bobs with it. up and down, so subtle but just so attractive. his neck appears in your mind’s eye, that sweaty, muscular throat of his, with the vein protruding on the side and— stop it.

“i-it’s not fine! what part of this looks fine to you…?” you groan as you shake your head in disbelief. he’s so close, you just need him so badly. it makes you unable to think straight. “we had plans, for crying out loud!”

“we can take a raincheck.”

“but you’ve just entered your thirties!”

“so?”

“it’s an important number, is it not?”

“babe,” he says, chuckling at your nonsense. “i’ll be in my thirties for a long while. don’t worry about it, seriously.”

“but i’ve got an entire cake meant for like ten people minimum sitting in my fridge.”

“well, if that’s the case,” he mutters, grinning lazily, “i’ll try my hardest to eat the whole thing by the end of the weekend if it’ll make ya feel any better.”

you turn your head to glare at him. “you’re not helping with your silly little jokes, you know.”

he snickers at that and it makes your heart bounce. “oh, i know, all right.”

“it’s just,” you start, sighing. the bridge of your nose scrunches up in annoyance when yet another heatwave washes over you and you suppress the urge to mewl. “this entire thing is so frustrating.”

“mm. tell me ‘bout it,” he says before he runs his broad palm along the column of your neck. your collarbone. the underside of your breast and down your stomach, which trembles at the feeling of the rough callouses that adorn his fingerpads.

the touch only offers more oxygen to the already raging flames that are already licking your entire body. you can’t stifle the small whimper that leaves your lips in response to even more silvery strings of your arousal smearing over the dark denim of his pants almost immediately. it causes a muscle to flutter in his cheek as he looks down and watches how wetter you’re getting by the second.

you’re entirely naked, have gotten rid of your damp, slick-coated panties because your blood feels like it’s boiling under your skin and you just couldn’t handle the heat anymore. he’s completely dressed because he didn’t think you’d actually slip into one while he’s around.

no, he didn’t dare believe it, even if his keen sense of smell did allow him to catch a whiff of a particular kind of sweetness appearing in your scent a long while ago. didn’t dare consider it, even if it did start to invoke some kind of primal, almost aggressive urge to protect what’s his in him.

but the thing is: you aren’t even his to begin with — at least not yet, that is. you refuse to bear his mark, refuse to submit, refuse to be mated even if he’s expressed the wish himself once or twice by now.

so to be entirely fair, it’s no wonder kiba feels surprised to see you acting so disheveled and pliant for him like you are right now. unlike him, you’re always so collected, looking like you have your shit together no matter the situation that’s thrown in your direction. making it look like he’s the one relying on you, instead of you relying on him, despite the roles you both possess.

maybe that’s why he’s so into you. after all, he’s always been one to love a good challenge.

and you’re just that.

furthermore, you’ve become so good at keeping your cool around him that in the last year and a half of being in a relationship together, you’ve even managed to slip out of his grasp whenever the merest hint of your heat had started to come forward. taking suppressants and disappearing off the face of the earth whenever your scent had started gaining attention from nearby alphas, you’ve successfully avoided your boyfriend until the entire thing had passed and you were back to normal, leaving him yearning all the more to see that side of you once and for all.

and whilst we’re on the topic of yearning…

he’s about to go batshit crazy because of it.

“listen to me. i don’t care about the pants, i’ll wash ‘em. and my birthday isn’t ruined,” he mutters as he nuzzles his face into the spot where your neck meets your shoulder. “far from it, actually.”

silence hangs in the air for a little while before you finally whisper, “really?”

“really,” he answers in a heartbeat. it’s genuine.

he kisses your neck without warning then, making the nerves near your scent gland buzz with phantom electricity. it’s all warmth and grazing of sharp canines, and the way you arch your back so that you can push your ass further into his crotch in response makes both of your breaths shudder.

he grinds against you, and you react in the same way. drags his tongue along the sweetspot on your neck, and you reach back with your hand so that you can tug on his hair that he’s combed through a million times tonight just for you. you rock against each other like this for a long while, just dry humping, kissing, edging and listening to each other’s shaky breathing.

you’ve become outright slippery between your legs by now, it makes the rubbing of your thighs all the easier even if you want to die from shame because of how obviously horny and out of mind you’re acting during it. moaning and whining, you’re practically trembling by the time his fingers circle your puffy little clit. you feel your hole clenching around nothing in an instant; practically begging you to let him stuff it full already.

he applies steady pressure, the same kind he’s applied so many times before, but it feels different now. you’ve had sex plenty of times during the course of your relationship, even before it had been given an official date, but never during one of your heats. it changes everything. it’s an entirely new playfield that you have yet to explore.

truth be told, you’re shocked. you’ve known him for over two decades, have grown alongside him; drifting apart and reconnecting once or twice, perhaps even three times during your years spent in different high schools and universities, before you’d finally settled on remaining in each other’s lives for good.

you’re supposed to know every inch of both his body and soul by now, but the heat that’s plaguing your mind makes you see him in an entirely different light. it’s like you’re wearing rose-coloured spectacles. you’ve been in love with him before, now you’re obsessed. every breath you take makes the world spin right before your very eyes even though he has just become your world.

and that world slows down, now, all sound is drowned out by your rapid pulse that beats inside your ears as he quickens his touch on your almost painfully sensitive button of nerves. your cunt is so warm, soft, sticky. he can barely keep it together from how badly he wants to pound it already.

“k-kiba,” you stutter his name and suppress the urge to cringe at yourself. anger and overwhelming lust make your toes curl.

“look at how wet you are, pretty,” he utters softly, sounding so baffled and in awe by it at the same time that it’s almost funny. and sure enough, when he raises his hand from the apex of your thighs and holds it right in front of your face, his fingers are practically glimmering with your slick.

you’re quick to avert your eyes from the sight.

“well, you’re really fucking hard, okay?” you attempt to quip back but fail outrageously. it’s supposed to be a jab, your statement, but the high pitch that appears in your voice now exhibits pure, relentless need instead. even your hips are wiggling by their own accord and you hate yourself for allowing it, but you just can’t help it. it’s all instinct.

“fuck yeah i am. i mean, how couldn’t i be hard when you—” he grunts mid-sentence and you swear there’s a certain kind of edge to it; like a growl that thunders somewhere deep within his chest. every exhale tickles your throat as he pants — it cools the sweat that sticks to your skin in a layer so thick that it makes you shiver. “when you smell so fuckin’ good; so sweet?”

your scents meld as you writhe against each other, it makes you tip your head back and gasp from how good it is to inhale into your lungs. at this point, your brain is screaming at you to let him in, to let him do whatever he wants if it means he’ll stuff you full and knock you up by the end of it.

you can’t take it anymore.

you want, no, you need to feel the heated stretch of your alpha’s cock. need to be mounted. to be turned over then so that you can look at his face as he manhandles you into the tightest mating press known to man, and to feel his sharp teeth at long last sink into the sensitive scent gland on your neck, marking you as his before he lets you do the same to him. to let him use you as his cocksleeve the moment you become his mate, his hands gripping your hips so hard during every thrust that you’re bruising at the curves, but it just feels too good to notice the pain to accompany it.

you want your sloppy cunt squelching and gushing slick around him until he can feel his balls tighten and he cums and spills his load so deep into you that it goes straight to your goddamn womb. want to watch him keep every single drop from spilling with the help of his knot that you want him to push into you at some point, too. want his sweaty forehead pressing against your own as he fucking plugs you and sucks in deep, ragged breaths, whispering how he’s just put so many pups inside you that you’ll have to start thinking about moving house.

and afterwards, you want soft, warm kisses instead of messy, sloppy ones. you want the faintest taste of your blood on his tongue intermingling with his own iron. want him looking so big as he holds himself steady above you; your legs still wrapped around his waist, heels digging into the small of his back. want him calling you his mate for the first time ever because he’s finally able to do so. and well… you want yourself whispering the same.

you want all of that.

“kiba, i need you to take care of me,” you whisper, turning around to face him. your body is aching for him by now, the scent and closeness only make your desire worsen. you’re turning light-headed with want and it makes you wrap your twitchy hands around his bicep and tug on his sleeve as you try to pull him forward so that he can top you as soon as possible. you’re clinging onto him for dear life, throwing yourself at him even if you’d said you’d never. “need you to make me yours, ‘kay? right here, right now. please.”

“yeah,” he mumbles, clearly dazed. his body moves so quick, it’s pure thrill. “yeah, of course, baby. anything you want.”

poor man, he’s been waiting for all this time just to hear you say the words.

the quiet clink of his belt buckle becoming undone causes a shiver to rush down your spine. it sends you into a frenzy.

“please. oh, god, please, please,” you repeat your pleas, choking back a sob as he pushes you onto your stomach. the weight of him that settles above you is so comforting, it only causes more hot tears to well up inside your eyes. “it hurts so bad, it feels like i’m fucking dying.”

“i’m here,” he says, and his touch feels like you’re being stroked with embers when he grips you by the hips and makes you push your ass higher into the air. he can’t control the strength he possesses anymore, the manhandling has already begun even if he’s trying so hard to remain gentle. “i’ll take care of ya. i promise, sweetheart.”

who would have thought he’d get a mate for his birthday?

[zorosdimples]

YOU’RE MINE

pairing ༄ alpha!kakashi x princess!reader

warnings ༄ minors: please do not interact! i will block you. suggestive content, predator/prey dynamics, light a/b/o dynamics, mild descriptions of injuries. reader is a princess, wears a gown, and has an intricate hairstyle, but there are no gendered terms aside from “princess.” kakashi calls reader “pup” once.

word count ༄ 922

notes ༄ everyone can thank cher @honeylavendr for unknowingly?baiting me into writing this. it was really only a matter of time… kakashi is my first love and i’ve lost the omegaverse battle, so this is the result. this has no plot, so just enjoy the whirlwind of emotions!

the cold air bites at your exposed flesh like a hungry wolf. you ignore your discomfort as you hike up the heavy skirt of your gown and delve deeper into the pitch-dark forest. stray moonbeams cut through the dense canopy and illuminate patches of earth and gaps between the trees, your winding path mostly guesswork as you feel your way through the vegetation.

branches sharp as claws rip your gown and flay your flesh, and while you can faintly feel the warm dribble of blood down your frozen temple, it’s difficult to focus on anything other than moving forward. shreds of shimmering velvet catch in brambles as you run, but the sickening sound of fabric tearing doesn’t reach your ears.

after what feels like hours of running, your senses are overwhelmed to the point of numbness. the only absolute truth is your ragged breathing; everything else is hearsay as you float through the night, a whisper among the leaves. the primal urge to just survive is your sole guide.

your lungs burn and legs ache—at least you think they do—but your mind and body are currently separate entities. you know your pace is unsustainable, and you cry out to the gods in relief when you finally crash through the tree line and into a clearing. the moon hangs brightly in the inky sky, light rippling on the surface of a lake so large it stretches beyond the horizon.

you collapse to the ground in a pool of tattered velvet, frantically gasping for air as the tight bodice of your gown painfully squeezes your chest. a wave of nausea rolls over you and you bite back the urge to retch.

stretching your legs out, you clumsily gather your skirt and pull it back, gasping when you see the mottled bruises and bloody gashes that litter your skin. feet in agony, you opt to crawl to the edge of the lake to peer at your reflection in the frigid water.

“you can’t hide from me, princess.”

the smooth taunt stops you mid-crawl, horror blossoming in your gut and unfurling to caress every nerve in your now-trembling body. as if you can no longer control your movements—can you ever when he’s around?—you slowly turn to face the shadowy forest.

you see his eyes before anything else. his right iris shines silver like a honed dagger and his left glows crimson like spilled blood. when kakashi emerges from the cover of darkness, you forget your fear for a moment and bristle with irritation. he looks impeccable—not a strand of hair or thread of clothing is out of place. he doesn’t look like he has been tracking you through the wilderness for hours. for a split second, your right palm itches to slap his perfect face.

kakashi is unhurried as he approaches you, soaking in the sight of the kingdom’s beloved princess at his feet, cowering in defeat. when he reaches you, kneeling down so you are eye level, he decides that you have never looked more beautiful.

your soft face is covered in claret scrapes and angry welts, shiny eyes swollen and dripping hot tears. your hair has fallen out of the intricate updo your handmaiden worked on all afternoon; most of the pearls and pins that once adorned your silken strands would now rot away on the forest floor. the expensive gown that took hundreds of hours of labor and dozens of seamstresses to craft is now unrecognizable.

fear courses through your veins under his scrutiny, but kakashi doesn’t have to look at you to know how you feel. he can smell how terrified you are. it only makes him desire you more.

he reaches out a gloved hand to brush your icy cheek, but you jerk away from his touch. he simply tuts in mock annoyance. “there is nowhere left for you to run, princess.” his coo is cloying as he leans over you. his signature mask covers the bottom half of his face, but when he sees you eyeing the fabric, he slips it down with a cruel smirk. “if you want to look, all you have to do is ask, my little omega.”

you swallow dryly at those words. you are no longer just an omega; you are his omega, his mate. the fetters of royalty have chained you to this man—this monster. kakashi moves to grip both of your arms at the elbows, large hands gently pulling you closer and closer until you tumble into his lap.

“no matter how many times you try to run, i will always find you,” kakashi murmurs into your ear, warm breath lighting a fire beneath your skin. he nuzzles your cheek then grazes his fangs down the side of your neck, leaving goosebumps his wake; you shiver beautifully for him. “do you know why, pup?”

you whimper as kakashi’s lips ghost his mark on the juncture of your neck and shoulder. he kisses the healing wound sweetly before laving his tongue over it until you breathe a pleased sigh. kakashi raises his head to meet your heavy lidded gaze, one hand cradling your face, the other—now gloveless, claws exposed—slicing down the length of your dress until you sit completely bare. his lips meet yours chastely, but for some inexplicable reason, you hunger for more. he pulls back with a chuckle after you try to pry his mouth open with your tongue. both of his hands come up to wrap around your neck, thumbs pressing sharply beneath your chin.

“it’s because you’re mine.”

[animeomegas]

So, you and your omega are…. uh… going at it… when your neighbour angrily bangs on the wall, yelling at you to keep it down. Oops. How does your omega react? 

“SORRY THAT YOU’RE LIFE IS BORING! TRY LOOSENING UP, IT WON’T KILL YOU!”: Kiba

*Proceeds to be louder on purpose, out of spite*: Kankuro, Deidara, Denki, Satan, Belphie, Seven, 

Barely acknowledges it. He’s busy, after all: Sai, Kisame, Todoroki, L, Solomon, Diavolo, 

He gives you the “deer in headlights” look for a moment, before collapsing into giggles. Oops. : Naruto, Kirishima, Mic, Mirio, Baxter

He kind of likes that people can hear him. He’ll probably quieten down to be polite, but it makes him hornier: Haku, Light (he can’t ruin his image too much after all)

He stops because it’s kind of awkward and he feels bad, but he’s not embarrassed: Sero, Beel, Barbatos (can’t ruin his image), Zen, V

His face is hot and he’s embarrassed, and it’s undeniably a little awkward, but he’ll get over it. He either stops for the night, or moves farther away from the shared wall. He might apologise the next day to smooth things over: Lee, Gaara, Yamato, (non-massacre) Itachi, Minato, Midoriya (it does make him a little horny though), Aizawa, Matsuda, Mammon, Yoosung, Derek

Stop immediately. Has a wave of aggression, which is really to hide the embarrassment. Pretends he doesn’t care, but he does and wants to stop for the evening: Sasuke, Neji, Bakugou, Lucifer, 

Humiliated, utterly and completely, his face heats up like you wouldn’t believe. He wants to stop, and is not going to be in the mood for a week: Shino, Iida, Toshinori, Tamaki, Leviathan, Cove

Stops immediately. He’s uncomfortable with the idea that people can hear him, but he’s not crazy embarrassed or anything (as long as it wasn’t anything particularly humiliating): (canon) Itachi, Kakashi, Simeon, Jumin, Saeran,