#then i pretty much got ordered to tidy up

[fingertipsmp3]

Was straight up Not Doing Well but then I met a cat and now I think I’m okay

[tired-biscuit]

A friend, a mate, and all things in-between

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

premise: after finding out the truth about the role you supposedly play in kiba’s life, you settle on a compromise of taking things slow and seeing where the wind takes you while you’re at it.

cw: monsterfucking, knotting, implied breeding, mounting, size difference, omegaverse themes, werewolf saliva used as aphrodisiac. college/modern AU, friends to lovers, established mating bond, jealousy, descriptions of a close call-cheating encounter in the past, usage of sweetheart and bunny as pet names for reader.

wc: 22.8k

find part one here!

———

On Saturday, Kiba takes you out for dinner, exactly like he’d promised.

The restaurant by the lake that you’ve decided to visit is quaint as much as it is familiar. The lighting is dim but warm, and the tables are clean even if some of the edges have been smoothed out with age and use. Pictures and framed newspaper articles cover the walls. All of them feature your little town in some way or another.

There’s a pleasant tune playing on the tiny, white speakers that are fixed in the corner. You’re pretty sure you’ve heard the song on the radio before. The easy-going notes resemble the elevator music you sometimes hear whenever you go shopping at the local mall and have to reach the garage underneath, but that doesn’t mean it’s bad, necessarily.

If you had to describe the place, it reminds you of a diner that’s gotten stuck in the past, that is if a diner was situated next to a lake and the modern aspects of it were entirely excluded, of course.

After all, there is a shiny new coffee machine sitting behind the counter, and the waitress is wearing a pair of skinny jeans and a t-shirt instead of a uniform and rollerblades — the latter being a missed opportunity in your opinion.

But speaking of time; both yourself and Kiba used to come here all the time back when you were younger, even going so far back that your feet were left dangling in the air as soon as your butts had plopped onto the same plushy chairs you’re sitting in now. Making choices was easier back then — the only food you ordered had come from the kids menu.

You can still hear his, ‘Are ya gonna finish that?’ somewhere in the back of your mind. 

As well as his mother’s immediate hiss of disapproval, ‘For goodness’ sake, boy, let the poor girl eat her food in peace! With the way you’re acting, people are gonna start thinking that I don’t feed you enough.’

In the beginning, you both ate here with your parents. Afterwards — when the soles of your sneakers were able to firmly touch the floor and Kiba had won the bet and got his driver’s license well before you did — it was mostly just the two of you.

But as you sit across from him at the table that’s situated right next to the window, and which you’ve personally favoured for years — you know that he prefers the one that’s in the corner — you come to realize that this date is different from all the previous ones that you’ve been on in this exact place with him.

Because unlike the rest, this one is actually for real.

And it shows, you think. In many ways, with the most obvious one being the fact that your best friend has tidied himself up rather nicely despite the high temperatures outside.

There are jeans instead of gym shorts on his strong legs, and clean shoes on his feet instead of the busted sneakers that he swears up and down are still holding on just fine. He’s even gone through the hassle of putting on a short-sleeved button-up with a pretty pattern that cleverly melds into the colour of the cotton if you’re looking closely enough — not that you are!

In classic Kiba fashion, the top two buttons of his shirt are undone; open just enough for the glint of a thin golden chain to catch your eye whenever he tilts his head to the side or stretches his neck.

You haven’t been staring at the piece of jewelry for long, wondering where or who he’d gotten it from, however you can still tell that there’s no pendant hanging off the necklace. No charm or initial either.

Good.

Wait, wait, wait… why is that good? Are you by any chance hoping that he’ll agree to wear yours because of it?

The thought succeeds in heating up your face with stress — a popular emotion this entire situation has been evoking as of late. Ever since he had admitted that you were his mate back in the tent, you’re still feeling the pressure of deciding if you actually want to be one. 

And placing a mark like that on him, clasping your golden initial around his neck and consequently announcing that he’s your property now… It’d signal just that, now wouldn’t it?

Attempting to whisk away the dilemma that’s been plaguing your mind for the last couple of days, you force your eyes to dip from your best friend’s neck, down to the plate of half-eaten food that you’ve still got sitting in front of you. 

Your grip on the fork is tight as you chew. The food is good, even if you can’t taste it all that much from how absent-minded you are.

In a mere instant, Kiba is leaning in to ask, “You okay?”

He’s always asking that as of late.

Are you all right?

Is everything okay?

Are you sure?

“Yeah.” The nod you give him is so stiff and fast that it comes across as unnatural instead of genuine. “I’m fine.”

You try to ignore the curious smile that curls his lips as he continues to watch you eat, undoubtedly inhaling the anxiety that riddles your scent in subtle waves now. 

He’s learned that it intensifies whenever his foot accidentally touches yours underneath the table. That it doubles in strength whenever he looks you in the eyes for too long. Sometimes it even happens when he grins. Practically everything seems to be setting you off today.

You’re nervous, that much is clear. Are way up in your head about this entire thing just like you are with everything else that happens in your life. And while finding out that you’re basically a perfect biological match for your best friend is no small feat, the young werewolf’s opinion remains: you need to fucking relax. 

With how hard you’re squeezing that fork, it’s making him fear that you’re trying to split it in half — an act that he definitely wouldn’t mind doing to you again.

Woah there, reel it back in, lover boy… Easy!

Willing himself to push the dirty thought away by thinking about the food he’s eating instead, Kiba swallows the bite of steak he’d just been chewing on with a small, albeit conflicted sigh. 

The meat tastes rich despite the fact that it’s been served nearly raw — the bloodier, the better when it comes to dining with a werewolf, you suppose — however, he finds it hard to fully appreciate the meal when unlike his taste buds, his libido is far from appeased.

“Anyways.” He pauses to glide the tip of his tongue across his front teeth, further appreciating the savory taste that’s stuck there before he leans in slightly closer again. “You look really pretty tonight.”

Hearing his compliment, you look up from your plate; carefully eyeing him from underneath your lashes which you’ve taken the time to coat with a thin layer of mascara before leaving the house. It was a decision made solely for your own peace of mind.

Well, probably. 

Taking a shallow breath now, you ask, “I do?”

“What kind of stupid question is that… ‘Course you’re pretty, bunny. You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever had the pleasure of layin’ my eyes on,” he says, chuckling quietly and propping his cheek against one palm with such ease that it’s almost scary.

Watching you succumb further into yourself in response to his niceness is entertaining as hell, he can’t lie. You’re lost, vulnerable. If looks as sweet as the one that’s sitting on your face right now had the power to kill, he’d be proclaimed a dead man ages ago. 

It compels him to add, “You’ve always been pretty to me.”

Messing with you or not, what he says now is the truth. Sticking by your side in the role of your best friend for so many years, Kiba has seen you be at your best as often as he’s experienced you at your worst, and has nonetheless always, always thought the exact same thing about you: that you’re perfect. 

Perfect for him, that is.

Whether you’re wearing trendy skirts or hoodies so big that they entirely hide your shape, he still likes you all the same. Whether you’re walking around with freshly washed hair and with make-up on your face, or you’re still stumbling around because you’ve just woken up from a nap that has left you all disoriented and sweaty — to him there’s no difference as long as it’s you.

Part of it is the bond’s doing. It veils you with an appeal that draws him to you no matter what. However, whilst that may be the case, he thinks that the majority of his wild infatuation has to do with plain familiarity instead.

After all, it’s your heart that is his favourite thing about you, that much he’s positive about… Even if the shy little smile that you give him now could be considered quite the competitor. 

And quite the competitor it is! Kiba’s eyes are practically glued to the wet-like sheen of your lip gloss when you slowly shake your head to chide a meek, “Stop it.”

“Stop what?” he inquires immediately with a grin of his own.

“Stop flirting,” you say, placing the fork back onto your plate with a soft clink. Crossing your legs underneath the table, your body language is trying its hardest to appear strict as you add, “We said we were going to take it slow, remember…? Or are you just playing dumb on purpose?”

“What’re you talking about; we are taking it slow,” he says, his tone a matter-of-fact one. “Actually, I doubt it can get much slower than this.”

Your lips purse in response. “Talking in a way that makes you sound like you’re trying to get into my pants does not mean slow, Kiba.”

“You’re not wearing any pants, though.” His gaze slips down to the light sundress you’ve put on for the night. It makes your tits look great, but he knows you wouldn’t be happy to hear that.

You snap your fingers in front of his nose, forcing him to avert his attention from your dress. “That’s besides the point and you know it.”

“Oh, c’mon.” He takes another bite of his food, then points his fork at you, seemingly in an accusatory type of way as he mutters, “I’m just saying… If we did it my way, I would’ve bent you over ages ago.”

“Can… Can you not?! God.” You fight to extinguish the heat that immediately begins to simmer on your cheeks, but it’s proving to be quite difficult. The warmth is so strong that it even manages to travel down to the base of your neck. “Just… be quiet for a second, okay?”

His upper lip twitches as his grin widens. “Why?”

“Just ‘cause!”

Kiba huffs a laugh at the slightly higher pitch that you speak in now, shoulders shaking the tiniest bit. He watches you clear your throat and readjust in your seat, and even goes as far as to drag his gaze from your face to your neck when you reach over to take a small sip of the cocktail you’ve ordered. It still sits on the table looking half-full; creating a prominent circle of moisture on the crispy white table cloth underneath. 

The drink is colourful and summery. Even has a little paper umbrella on top. He had joked about how girly it looks earlier, but had secretly considered ordering the exact same thing just to see what the inside of your mouth must taste like. After some consideration, he’d ended up settling on a coke though.

He knows you’d nag him to no end about drinking when he’s the one who’s driving… even if alcohol doesn’t do shit when it comes to him.

Still, girly drink or not, the ice somewhat succeeds in cooling you off and poses a challenge to the sudden heat of bashfulness that threatens to sweep you off your feet. It’s like all your senses have gone acute all of a sudden.

The sigh you let out because of it is one of only partial relief.

“What’s the matter? You hot?” Kiba teases instantly, his voice dropping so dangerously low that you can almost feel it reverberate in your bones. “Hot and bothered?”

“Shut up,” you hiss before taking another sip, this time a larger one. You need it if you wish to endure this menace of a man.

“What’s in it for me?” the mentioned menace questions now, taunting you with that infuriating half-smile that he knows damn well provokes you immensely. He even goes as far as to wiggle his eyebrows as he gives his best effort to purr, “Does it make you feel things, mm? Makes you wanna— Hey!”

His taunting gets replaced with a huff of disapproval when you suddenly kick him in the shin, making the fork rattle atop your plate. The kick itself is nowhere near to being powerful enough to actually hurt him, considering his thick skin and the firm cords of muscle that hide underneath, but it does get the message across. Kind of.

“What’d you do that for?” A playful little pout sits on Kiba’s mouth now. It makes him look younger than he actually is; makes him resemble the kid that you spent all your time with back in high school, as well as all the years prior to that. 

“Because it was well deserved, you dumbass,” you mumble, still staring at his face. A small, slightly less nervous chuckle bubbles up your throat when he bristles in answer. “Now be quiet and eat your dinner.”

Not even batting an eye, he blurts out, “I’d rather eat you, though.”

You give it your best shot to scowl at him even if the tease sparks heat somewhere inside your middle all over again. It’s the reason why your voice doesn’t sound as strong as you want it to be when you say, “You’re hopeless, you know that? Actually hopeless.”

“Actually, I think I'm quite on my game tonight.” He gives you a wink, reaching for his fork again. “But you can keep tellin’ yourself that if it makes ya feel any better, sweetheart.”

He’s right. 

It makes you sigh.

———

The rest of your first proper date with your best friend goes well. Scarily so.

In fact, neither of you picks up the phone during the entirety of it. The only exception is when you decide to stalk your old classmates from high school together and share a good laugh about some of the results you stumble upon.

“Oh shit, he’s actually completely bald… What the hell?”

“Called it! I fuckin’ called it!”

Your face hurts from laughing so much and with the initial nervousness gone, dinner goes smoothly. You end up sharing dessert and talking nearly until closing time — releasing the growingly impatient waitress from your clutches at long last and mumbling sheepish apologies along the way because of it. 

To be honest, the entire outing isn’t much different from all the previous ones you’ve indulged in the exact same restaurant all those years ago.

However, you soon find out that that is because the change in your dynamic presents itself afterwards; when he turns to look you in the eye the second you sit in his car and asks you if you want to go to his place, despite the fact that it’s getting late and he doesn’t live with his mom anymore.

And you go. You nod your head yes and you fucking go. For what reason, you, yourself don’t know, but you might as well find out while you’re at it.

So around quarter to midnight, you arrive to the little apartment that Kiba calls his new home. It’s cozy and a little messy, though not to a degree that should cause concern. Otherwise, it’s lived in and definitely your standard guy apartment.

He shows you the kitchen, immediately rolling his eyes when your gaze lands onto the small pile of dishes in the sink — two cereal bowls and a mug that for some reason says ‘World’s Best Dad’ on it — and points you in the direction of the bathroom, his roommate’s bedroom, and finally, his own room, which you tell him you’ll take a look at some other time, preferably during the day and when you don’t have three sugary cocktails coursing your blood and clouding your better judgement. 

You did say that you were going to take it slow, after all.

By the time he drags you into the living room, you let out a small gasp of joy when you come face to face with Akamaru, who lays curled up on the couch, depicting the epitome of comfort.

Scurrying to sit down next to the big pup and offering him your hand to sniff so that he can hopefully recognize you despite not seeing you in years, you begin to understand what Kiba had meant with the term ‘senior dog’ during your camping trip earlier.

Christ, he’s gotten so old.

“So, what do you think?” your best friend calls out from the hallway now. He’d gone there to hang up your jacket for you at first, but it seems like he’s also using the chance to turn off the lights as he goes. 

…As well as to run off into his room to change his fancy clothes for a pair of comfortable sweatpants and a simple T-shirt. Typical.

“It’s a nice place. Pretty spacious.” You’re too busy petting Akamaru, pretending you aren’t interested in him when he throws himself onto the couch right next to you, even if your body tenses up just the tiniest bit at the closeness.

You’ve already fucked him, for crying out loud — several times in the span of one night. What are you acting so damn nervous for?

“But?” he mumbles, seemingly not noticing the subtle change in your body language as he crosses his ankles and flicks on the television. 

“What do you mean but? There’s no but,” you chide in answer, still scratching the white canine behind the ears and really trying to put all your focus into the movement instead of the warmth of your best friend’s body that is slowly spilling into your side now. 

The brown patches in Akamaru’s fur have gotten dull in colour with old age. His eyes look tired and he’s also nowhere as lively as he used to be, though he still puts in the effort to give you an appreciative little wag of his tail when your fingers dig into the sweet spot that you remember is hiding underneath his chin. 

“There’s always a but with you,” Kiba insists, changing the channel yet again. He’s not paying attention to the TV, not really anyways, but he pretends that he does just so that you can breathe a little easier.

However, when you turn your head so that you can shoot him a glare for the sly remark, you catch him staring right back at you with that stupidly lovestruck smile playing on his lips.

Lowering your gaze, you try to act like it doesn’t cause butterflies to start fluttering inside your belly. Meanwhile, he tries to act like he can’t smell the sudden sweetness that the feeling evokes in your scent.

“Oh, fine.” You pause, ceasing the petting for a moment. “I suppose it could use a little bit of a woman’s touch here and there… And you definitely could’ve washed the dishes prior to inviting me, but that’s all.”

“For your information, I didn’t wash the dishes ‘cause it’s Kankuro’s turn to do ‘em,” he says. And grins. “And if the place really needs a woman’s touch as badly as you say it does, then you’re more than welcome to touch it all over.”

“Kankuro is your roommate, I take it?” you ask, choosing to skip over the thing he’s hinting at. The butterflies still continue to flutter, though.

“Yep,” Kiba replies, playing with the remote now. The symbol on the power button has long since faded out with use and it doesn’t surprise him really. Him and Kankuro had found the TV on Facebook Marketplace. Bought it so cheap that it felt like a steal.

You listen to the quiet click of claws as Akamaru slides off the couch and ventures down the hallway, aiming straight towards Kiba’s bedroom. He’s probably going to use the chance to hog up as much space on the bed as he possibly can before his owner can beat him to it. Smart dog.

“What’s he like?” you inquire. “This Kankuro guy?”

“He’s, you know… Kanks is just a regular dude as far as I’m concerned,” your best friend says, still staring at the remote. “Cleans up after himself and is good with Akamaru. He does that cosplayin’ shit from time to time, though… Paints his face for those anime conventions that you see online and stuff. It’s pretty dope.”

“Does he know about,” you trail off, making sure to lower your voice just in case, “you know… The whole howling at the moon thingy?”

“Fuck no.” Kiba shakes his head, his lips curling into a smile. “You, Hana and mom are still the only ones who know, but now I’m kind of starting to think that I should’ve kept it a family secret instead of telling your dorky ass about it… Howling at the moon thingy? What are ya; twelve?”

You stick your tongue out at him at the remark. He tries not to stare at it for too long.

“Say…” A couple of moments pass. Your gaze dips to your lap as you ask, “How come you never told Tamaki?”

The mention of his ex-girlfriend makes Kiba want to cringe. His smile falters, twitching downwards at the corners, but he forces it to remain at least semi-present despite the fact that you’re not looking at him. Either your hands must have become the most interesting thing in the world, or you’re ashamed for inquiring about his past relationships.

“Ah, you know,” he mutters after a short moment of silence. His tone sounds very distant out of the blue. “Just never found the right time for it, I suppose.”

You hum at his answer; just a little noise of acknowledgement. “You never found the time even after being with her for… several years?”

How could he, if it also meant having to explain that he was eternally tied to his best friend; the girl he’d always assured her that she shouldn’t be worried about?

Kiba gives a hard, obvious swallow, unable to stop his jaw from clenching a little. “Yeah.”

You pick at your nails, pretending there’s something underneath them in order to appear busy. “Do you miss her?”

“I, um… I think I used to, but I definitely don’t anymore.” He sees the dumbfounded look you give him now and scrubs a tired hand over his face. “I know it sounds awful when I put it like that, trust me, I know, but the bond between me and you doesn’t let me feel things like… that anymore. For other people, I mean. It’s just… It’s a bitch to explain.”

He had loved Tamaki. Perhaps he still does; in a way that would never be enough for her and that is considerably less than what she actually deserves, but after finally connecting with you, his mate, the mere thought of ever being intimate with someone else again repulses him greatly. 

He’d tried to make it work. To give her what she’d desired, deserved. Every embrace, kiss, conversation, trip, and so much more. However, you’d always been right there, sitting in the back of his mind during it all. And now that he’d gotten the chance to place his mouth on yours, and had tasted you, had been inside you, he feels so fucking stupid for even attempting to do such a thing in the first place.

It’s either you or nobody.

“So, anyway… Cosplay, huh?” you ask randomly, clearly trying to brush the heavy topic away despite being the one who initiated it. 

He blinks, slowly. “What about it?”

“You really think it’s cool?”

“Yes,” he snips all of a sudden. The change of tone makes you even more puzzled than you already are, especially when he adds, “Is it that hard to believe or somethin’?”

“Well… yeah,” you mumble while scratching your cheek. It’s a challenge to contain the surprise that tries to show on your face now; your eyebrows are insisting on rising up nearly to your hairline. “I mean, the Kiba I know would’ve straight up bullied a person like that.”

He blanches at your statement. “That was one time! I was just being honest with the poor suckers when I told them that carrying Yu-Gi-Oh! cards to school is the reason why they’re all still virgins… In fact, I was probably doing them a favour!”

“No,” you object. “You were being mean.”

“Then it’s a good thing that we’re not in high school anymore, I guess.” He flicks the remote onto a nearby pillow and crosses his arms behind his head before he says, “And just so you know, I’m not just some mean asshole that you constantly keep referring to me as. People can change. Myself included.”

“I didn’t–... I didn’t mean it like that,” you reply a bit too fast, feeling every blink your eyelids make. His gaze is unmoving from your face and it’s causing you to become hyper-aware of your body. “I know there’s more to you than just acting like a prick, come on. I wouldn’t be friends with you otherwise.”

He sighs in answer, his face tight. You do the same.

Awkwardness settles in.

“Uh,” you utter at some point, finally daring to look up at him again. “Want to tell me the reason why you like it, though?”

“Like what?” he asks dumbly.

“Cosplay.”

“Oh.” A brief second passes before he, at long last, chuckles. You’re relieved to see his shoulders sag a bit with it. “Well, if I’ve gotta pick one thing, I guess it’s ‘cause most of the chicks are dressed in those hot, skintight bodysuits?”

“Seriously?” A pang of jealousy resonates within you, but you do your best to repress it. It’s too early to be feeling all that. “That’s the best thing you can come up with? Girls in tight bodysuits?”

“No, I’m just messin’ with ya, hah…” He grins, but swallows thickly again and runs his fingers over the back of his head before he continues, “While those are nice, don’t get me wrong, I guess I really like it because it’s like Halloween, in a way?”

“Halloween?” you repeat, even more confused.

“Yeah.” He gives you a nod that could almost come across as sheepish. “Someone can dress up as something that’s supposed to be big and scary, and when people see it, they aren’t… Well, they aren’t afraid of it, necessarily? Instead they just think it’s cool and fun, you know?”

Finally, Kiba tears his gaze from your face, allowing it to settle onto his lap instead. Silence stretches between you once more as you continue to stare at him. Your head tilts to the side just as his drops lower, and you make the decision to reach out so that you can gently pat his knee in understanding.

Your entire body begins to glow from within when his hand rests atop your own. He traces your knuckles and gives them a gentle squeeze. The sensation is truly something you haven’t had the chance to experience before with anyone other than your best friend. There’s just so much nostalgia hiding in the small portrayal of affection.

The tone of your voice slips into something soft because of it, so soft that it comes across as barely above a whisper even to his sensitive wolf hearing when you ask, “I take it that that someone is you, in your… other form?” 

“What? No, I, uh… It’s not me.” He lets go of your hand to awkwardly clear his throat, trying to ignore the sudden ache that appears in it before he sits cross-legged and rests his elbows on his knees. 

By the time he’s ready to speak again, he’s already fiddling with his fingers. “Besides, even if I actually wanted to go, I still couldn’t. I’m far too big for that. Far too… scary-lookin’.”

He wants to though, you can see it bright as day. Can see that he’s tired of hiding a whole other half of himself — a half that he’ll unfortunately have to keep hidden for as long as he lives. Tired of making excuses and being overly cautious when he’s the exact opposite of it, and missing out on important events whenever they’re set on days following up to a full moon. Tired of receiving weird, uncomfortable glances whenever instinct takes over and his true nature pushes forward a bit too far past the barriers, when all he yearns for is to be liked.

Just… fed up with it all.

However, you also know that Kiba hates being perceived as vulnerable. So rather than moping with him and indulging his sadness and thus worsening it, you instead use the chance to snort and playfully nudge him in the shoulder. 

“Oh, yeah?” you say, making sure the lilt in your voice is overly noticeable. “Is that so?”

The nudge you give him makes him look up, as does the sudden change in your tone. At the sight of your friendly smile and the challenge simmering in your eyes, his expression eventually lightens to something a bit less stormy.

You’ll do just about anything to drag your best friend out of the bubble of melancholy that he’s surrounded himself with. 

And the best thing about it? You know that he would’ve done the same for you.

“Yeah,” he says, playing along now, albeit reluctantly. He’s still not quite where you want him exactly, but you’re getting there.

“Well, how big and scary are we talking, big boy?” you continue to inquire, wiggling your eyebrows. 

“I–” He snickers at your flirtatious prodding, rolling his eyes right afterwards. “Too big for anyone to handle,” he says, “and that includes you.”

“I don’t believe that.”

Can he truly get that big? You’ve never had the chance to see him turn full wolf yet, so his statement causes your stomach to fill with warmth. Heat travels downwards, over your thighs and between your legs, and you swear that you can hear him inhale a breath that’s slightly deeper than usual when it happens. 

The unannounced nerves are making you want to start pacing around the room, but you force your body to keep still.

“Well, you not believing me ain’t my problem, now is it?” he says, his smile suddenly wistful now. The light that comes from the TV makes his unnaturally big canines glimmer with moisture. It’s hard to not look at his mouth because of it. 

Words slightly wobbly, you manage to say, “I’m your mate, though.”

Mate. He perks up at the word, just like he always does, but his voice doesn’t make him sound particularly fazed as he utters, “And?”

“And that makes me your problem,” you explain, finally daring to move so that you can scratch your cheek again. It’s nothing more but an attempt at self-soothing. “Doesn’t it?”

You’re unsure why you’re pushing on this specific topic — especially after being the one who had once again suggested taking things slow in the first place — however, to be fair, you’ve been curious about it for a long while, even before you’d tangled yourself into this whole ‘bonded for life’ mess.

But now that the link has been revealed, the desire to lay your eyes on the unthinkable has become as potent as ever.

There is just something so undeniably appealing about the idea of seeing him in his werewolf form. Something thrilling in discovering the unknown; touching it with your hands and grazing it with the tips of your fingers. Something reassuring in accepting all of him, especially after he’d just partially trusted you with his insecurities revolving around this specific topic.

So yes, it’s either that, or it’s the newly discovered monsterfucker that’s been hiding inside you this whole time that’s talking and coaxing him into showing himself now. Or perhaps it’s both. Who knows?

You try to feign indifference to the best of your capability as you wait for his answer, even if every single inch of you is buzzing with relentless expectation. 

With bated breath that could very well match your own to perfection, Kiba inches ever so slightly closer, seemingly completely unintentionally. His gaze is laser-focused as he studies every feature that your face provides. The curve of your jaw, the shape of your lips, the colour of your eyes — he burns it all into memory before he at long last settles on the upper corner of your left cheek.

His burning stare causes your heart to pound faster than it normally would, and you know that he can hear it despite the fact that his ears are nowhere near your chest. Still, you insist on not moving a muscle. Insist on being brave.

“I’m too big for ya,” he says finally, gesturing over himself with his hand. “This is all you’re gonna get after you’re done playing the ‘takin’ it slow’ game with me.”

You bristle, clearly displeased with his answer. “But I’m–”

“It doesn’t work like that,” he interrupts, shaking his head. “Believe me, I wish it would, but it still doesn’t change the fact that you’re only human.”

“Humans can adapt! And being one, as you’ve so kindly pointed out, I’m pretty sure I can take it,” you object, heart still going thump, thump, thump! Something tells you that this isn’t just about cheering him up anymore. “Actually, I know I can.”

If he’s fucked you like a feral animal without transforming, how off the rails can he get if he doesn’t have anything holding him back anymore? 

You tense up when he gives you a harsh, almost derisive kind of laugh. Sit straighter when he says, “I’d tear you to shreds.”

“No, you wouldn’t.”

“The point is that I could.” The corners of his mouth twitch downwards at the horrible thought. “And that’s not something I’m willing to risk.”

You roll your eyes. “Since when are you one to say no to taking risks?”

“Since last week,” he replies. “Give or take.”

“You mean…?” A quick wave of heat washes over your face again. You went camping last week and he’d slipped into rut whilst sharing a tent with you; accidentally confessing everything that’s tied him to you ever since he’d first laid eyes on you all those years ago. 

He nods. “You’d be surprised how much being with a mate can change a wolf… I’m boring as fuck now.”

“But I don’t want you to change! I love you just the way you are,” you find yourself saying. The reason must be that last cocktail you persuaded yourself into ordering and eventually drinking. It’s untied your tongue like it’s nothing but a measly shoelace.

Nevertheless… 

Love.

Kiba’s breath hitches at the word, deeply-rooted emotions swelling within his broad chest, however he — very painfully — chooses not to ask to hear it again as soon as the subtle whiff of anxiety wafts over to his nose.

You’re embarrassed because of what you’ve just said. It makes his chest squeeze to the brink of pain.

“I mean–” you start, fumbling with your words. “I–”

“It’s okay,” he says, patting your knee as casually as he’s able despite the fact that the smile he gives you now seems just a smidge too tight. “I know what you meant. Now stop making it awkward or I’m gonna fucking lose it.”

Hyper-sensitive — his touch lights your skin on fire. His palm barely moves from its initial spot, but you can feel every callus to adorn his fingers, every minuscule stroke, as well as the reassuring squeeze that makes you want to straight up jump his bones.

And fuck, it’s nice. So nice, in fact, that it persuades you to stop him when he goes to pull his hand off your leg.

“Wait… don’t.”

“Mm?”

“You can touch me.” The words roll off your tongue before you can reel them back in again, but you still decide to put on your bravest front even if your upper lip is a second away from quivering.

Short-lived surprise crosses Kiba’s face. You watch with nervous eyes as his hand falters before it eventually settles on its original spot again. He grasps it more firmly this time. Squeezes with intent instead of reassurance.

There’s a beat of unsure stillness in the air before he brings himself to ask, “Like that?”

You give him a nod, feeling a little more confident while also paying mind not to be so tense. There are so many things you have to keep track of; god, why can’t you just relax and be more like him? Everything has to be so darn complicated whenever it comes to you! 

“Bunny,” he says, his tone still slightly unsure. “I thought I told you to stop making it awkward.”

Phantom lightning strikes your insides, melting them into liquid. “I’m not making it awkward.”

“‘Course you are. You’re completely stiff.” His grip tightens and it makes your eyes grow wide and your body turn even tenser in response. 

His own eyes aren’t their usual chocolate brown shade when he lifts his gaze to look at you again, but they sure are dark as sin. 

“See?” is all he says, a little out of breath. 

“I’m not,” you insist, the sentence completely useless. Your throat feels terribly dry all of a sudden. It makes your tongue stick to the roof of your mouth. “You’re just… imagining things.”

He quirks one brow. Repeats your challenge from earlier with the same tone, “Oh, yeah?” 

You bite your lip — a lame attempt to refocus. “Yeah.”

But before you know it, he uses one hand to shove you until you’re laying flat on your back, sinking deeper into the couch cushions, causing you to let out a little noise of startlement. 

His head pops into your field of vision as he hovers over you now. Aside from the light that comes from the TV, the room is shrouded in darkness. It makes only half of his face visible, however you can still see the glimmer of his teeth when he smiles down at you.

“You’re still sure about me imagining things?” he asks, clasping his fingers around the fat of your thigh. “‘Cause this is looking pretty real to me.”

“Y-yes,” you reply, challenging him further. “I’m sure.”

His grin turns wolfish as he drags his gaze over your somewhat disheveled form. Across both of your collarbones, now exposed due to the thin spaghetti straps of your dress slipping off your shoulders slightly, as well as the rising hem that’s slowly showing off more and more of your legs.

He’s looking at you like he’s planning to eat you. But rather than digging in, all he does is sneer as he says, “Brave words for someone who oddly resembles a plank right now.”

Well… that certainly wasn’t what you were expecting.

“Fuck you,” you drawl in answer, a mere hint of disappointment crossing your features — disappointment you’ll never admit to feeling. Urging your body to relax once more just so that you can prove him wrong, you instead try to focus on calming down your breathing.

However, it’s hard to do so when your best friend is literally on top of you, watching you with hungry eyes and the most complacent of smiles. Hard to do so when his fingers are now toying with the string that ties the front of your dress together and holds your tits in place. Hard to do so when—

A small gasp escapes your lips when he jabs you in the side all of a sudden.

The bridge of your nose scrunches in annoyance. When you try to stop him from repeating the action, he just takes you by the wrist and uses the chance to pin it above your head. “Don’t do that.”

“Or what?” He huffs a laugh at your weak attempt to fight back. Pokes you in the side again, making you whine. “What are you gonna do ‘bout it, hmm?” 

You don’t say anything as you squirm underneath him, trying to break free from his grip, but your efforts are to no avail. He’s got you locked in tight; has even made sure to pin your other hand the same way he did the first one when you tried to use it to push him in the chest.

“C’mon, bunny,” he taunts, his smile growing, growing, growing. Gosh, he really is such a wolf, isn’t he? “Is that really the best you can do?”

“No, it’s just not fair,” you say, trying to tame your pulse. The position you’ve wound up in is making your mind wander to all sorts of things. Dirty things.

“What’s not fair?” he asks, rubbing his thumb across your wrist.

“The fact that you’re so much stronger than me and expect me to throw you off like it’s nothing,” you mumble, huffing as you look up at the spot where he’s pressing down on your wrists. “I mean, how am I supposed to do anything, when you can hold me down with just one hand?”

The way his pupils widen with obvious excitement at your statement should concern you, but you know better than to think that he’d ever actually hurt you. It’s just the predator in him playing. A side he cannot stop from slipping into the spotlight every so often. A side he feels safe enough to share with you.

He likes being described as big and overpowering. Call it a guilty pleasure.

“Try using your legs,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper, laced with want. You can still distinguish the smile in it though. “I heard bunnies are supposed to have quite a kick to ‘em.”

“I’m not an actual bunny, shut up,” you fuss, but do exactly as he says. You kick your legs…

…and end up wrapping them around his waist instead.

Flustered warmth sears your face, neck and chest all over again as your ankles lock on the small of his back seemingly by their own accord. The skirt of your dress hikes up with the movement, exposing more of your thighs; offering him a glimpse of your cutesy underwear that you didn’t think twice about wearing because you weren’t planning on starting anything with him tonight.

And yet here you are.

The rise in temperature that you’re feeling all over blazes into something more profound now. Heat gathers in your stomach. Your legs. Between them, too. Anticipation tightens your skin, bringing the blood that runs underneath it to an angry simmer.

Kiba’s smile slowly fades when he senses the particular tension that now riddles the air around you. You stare at each other even if it’s hard for you and easy for him. For fuck’s sake, it feels like he’s burning holes into your fucking forehead when he looks at you like that.

“What is it?” you ask, nerves working overtime. “Do I have something stuck in my teeth?”

“You smell so fucking good when you’re turned on, did you know that?” he rasps in answer, completely ignoring your question and pitiful attempt at diffusing the situation. His nose is already leading him to that very tender spot hiding in the crook of your neck.

You flinch when he nudges your jawline, silently asking you for permission to give him more space. Not trusting the lump of nervosity that’s taken up residency inside your throat to not betray you all of a sudden, you allow it wordlessly and by angling your head slightly to the right.

“Your scent is so… I can smell how wet your cunt is even from here, god,” he trails off without an ounce of shame, every word lower and lower in tone. He takes another deep breath. Savours it with a soft groan. “You’re killin’ me, sweetheart.”

Embarrassment flashes through you like lightning does a stormy sky. The realization that he can immediately pick up on the scent of your arousal — as well as the aftermath that the ability brings — is overwhelming. 

It makes your heart thrum even faster than it did before. Consequently, your thoughts are now nothing more but a jumbled mess as you desperately attempt to tame your pulse back into a rhythm that’s normal instead of completely erratic.

But it’s not just you who’s having a hard time. The muscles in Kiba’s arms have gone completely stiff and his inhales are deep and audible instead of calm. He only pauses them to press cautious little kisses over your neck, most of which he eventually starts mixing with even smaller nips with the help of his teeth.

You’re pouring with sweat because of it. His apartment is warm, too warm even if it didn’t feel like that before, and his mouth is hot just like his tongue is as it repeatedly presses against your sweet spot. The action even causes goosebumps to appear all over your arms and legs. Great.

“Relax,” he mumbles, the tip of his nose practically smushed against your neck. “We’ve done this before.”

“What makes you think that we’ll do it again?” you hiss, fighting tooth and nail to appear authoritative. It doesn’t come off as strongly as you want it to, though.

“Call it a hunch,” he says, unable to resist a smirk. “Or whatever.”

Your lips remain a firm line. Unimpressed. “You’re so full of yourself.”

“Sure am,” he trails off with a lazy grin as his fingers brush the side of your neck. He looks at you. And winks. “You can be too, if you wanna. Full of me, I mean.”

“N-no?! The hell,” you splutter out, squirming even more. Sly motherfucker, damn him. “I thought I told you-”

“Relax! C’mon,” he repeats, huffing another laugh. “You know damn well that I’m just fucking with you, sorry, messing… No need to lecture me all the time.”

You roll your eyes. “You say that as if you can actually be lectured in the first place.”

He quirks an eyebrow. “Did it ever cross that naggy mind of yours that I don’t listen to you because I don’t want to, and not because I can’t?”

“Oh yeah, many times,” you reply, glaring at him. “Drives my naggy mind crazy.”

He muses like a satisfied cat at your statement. “You drive me crazy.”

“Stop hitting on me!” Your entire face scrunches up in annoyance. “Sweet talking isn’t gonna get you laid.”

“Then what will?” He drags his tongue along your pulse point. Blows air on the trail of saliva so that he can watch you writhe at the cold sensation to overcome you, then. “You want me to chase you around a lil’ bit first? Play a little game of prey versus predator with ya to get you to sit on my dick tonight?”

A small groan of agitation is the best you can do when it comes to answering his taunting.

“Or do you want me to really work for it, hmm, bunny?” His grip tightens around your wrists. As if to serve as a reminder. “Even though, judging by how you’re lookin’ right now, I could just take it all for myself either way?”

Your breath hitches in the back of your throat. “You wouldn’t.”

His upper lip curls, revealing those sharp canine teeth again. “Yeah, you’re right. I wouldn’t.” 

But he could.

Still, your breaths continue to intermingle. Doubt gets overridden by lust. Hands explore; one pair of them courageous as it can be, the other perfectly timid in contrast. The former even uses that courage to hike the hem of your dress up to your waist, completely exposing your lower half amidst all the grinding and writhing that’s slowly, but surely, coming into fruition. 

Kiba looks like he’s already won as he leers between your legs with that obnoxiously knowing glint in his eye and the equally as infuriating half-smile. 

He seems to be aware that you’re trying your absolute hardest not to react to the obvious bulge that’s in his sweatpants now. That you’re trying to ignore the rushing thrill that surges through you whenever he presses it against your traitor of a cunt — which still hides under the plain cotton panties you apparently swore you wouldn’t let him see tonight.

So he pushes it against you again. And again. Applying pressure, rubbing, testing out the playing field, waiting for you to tell him to stop. 

You don’t though. No, all you do is bite your lip in order to suppress the moan that’s impatiently waiting behind your clenched teeth and wiggle your hips whenever the hot contact strikes.

“Fuck, you’re so cute.” He can’t hide how entertained he is as he mumbles, “You want my cock? ‘Cause I’ll more than gladly give it to ya.”

A low hiss slips past your lips when his hard-on manages to bump your clit over the layers of clothes. It makes your brows furrow and your legs squeeze around his waist even tighter. 

“I didn’t–” You pause to close your eyes and inhale a rather wobbly breath. By the time you open them again, he’s already staring right back. “I didn’t say that.”

“You don’t have to,” he says, his own eyes flashing with what you think could be pride. “I can already tell from how fuckin’ soaked you are... Look.”

He reaches down between you then, running a single knuckle down your clothed slit. Your hips buck in answer to the touch almost immediately; the damp patch that’s formed on your underwear now turning more noticeable, shaping the outline of your pussy even further.

It makes him yearn to tug your panties to the side so that he can feel the slick coating his fingers before he can push them into your tight little hole, but he knows you’ll cause a fuss and close up on him if he moves even a smidge too quickly for your liking.

Still, the sight nearly makes him drool. His cock twitches. Starts to physically ache with need. It’s not as bad as it was during his rut last week, but fuck… this entire stage of foreplay and trying to lure you into pound town could be a close second, he can’t lie.

“Do you always get this wet whenever someone touches you,” he finds himself asking, “or is all of this just f’me?”

He hopes it’s the latter. Wants it so bad. The mere thought of someone else seeing you like this, touching you, spreading their scent all over you, claiming you, loving you… He’d let you go if you wanted to be with someone other than him, he’s told you so before, but that doesn’t mean that he’d be particularly happy about it.

Actually, he’d be quite miserable. Excruciatingly so.

You give him a pointed glare, face stern. He’s received the same look from you so many times over the years that he’s grown to love it, but you don’t fail to notice how his smile tightens with each passing moment that he waits for you to answer his question.

“Well?” he pushes, unable to resist. His eyes are getting more yellow by the second and his teeth are getting bigger. It makes his voice sound gruff as he says, “Who’s it for, bunny, mm?”

“I’m not telling you,” you say quietly, trying to make sense of all the emotions that are swelling up inside your chest now.

It’s a challenge to do so when they’ve been continuously swept under the rug for years on end and have only just recently been brought back into the open, though. When you’re unsure where your friendship stands. When you don’t even know if the love that your best friend feels for you is actually genuine, or if it’s just a thing that’s been forced forward solely because of the mating bond that eternally connects him to you.

You can’t help but wonder: would he still love you the same way he loves you now even if you weren’t his mate? If he were nothing more but a simple human, unable to connect with someone on such a deep biological level. Would he still fall for you — his best friend?

Or would he still be with his now ex-girlfriend, surely renting an apartment with her and exchanging doting glances and smiles during breakfast every morning, mind completely free from you the second you’d leave for college after every summer?

Would he even be your friend?

What if you’re just a burden to him?

“Hey.”

The sudden pinch that you receive to your left cheek tugs you out of your inner turmoil that has come to plague you all of a sudden.

Kiba’s eyebrows are cinched tight when you blink up at him. A small wrinkle of worry etches into his forehead and continues to deepen with the heavy silence to surround you. Even his jaw seems to be set firmly in place. 

Instead of hot and bothered, he just looks plain worried now despite the gleam of sweat on his brow and the almost sex hair.

“Mm?” is all you decide to let out whilst rubbing your wrists that he’s since let go of.

“You okay?” he asks, choosing to stroke your cheek instead of pinching it this time around. The pads of his fingers are rough, but his touch is surprisingly gentle. “You’ve completely zoned out on me just now.”

“I’m fine,” you say, despite that your chest remains feeling unbearably tight. The urge to touch it as a means to console yourself is hard to suppress, however you’re well aware that it’d just cause him to worry even further. “Sorry.”

“You sure? ‘Cause you smell kind of sad all of a sudden,” he mumbles, wolf eyes still zeroing in on you. He’s following every minuscule movement you make and it’s unnerving. “And I don’t know about you, but that definitely ain’t a thing a dude would want his girl to feel when he’s planning on sinking balls deep into her.”

“Sad?” you repeat, ignoring the lewd comment even if it makes you feel tingly between your legs. His cock, albeit not as hard anymore, is still persistently pressing against your pussy.

“Yeah,” he says. “Kind of like rain.”

This fascinates you. Your expression lightens as a result. “You mean like petrichor?”

He gives you somewhat of a dumb look, biting the inside of his cheek. “What?”

“Never mind, it’s just something dorky we learned in school,” you say, chuckling faintly at the confused puzzlement that now sits on his face. “Forget I said anything.”

He doesn’t respond, so you sigh, running your palm over the side of your neck he’d just been kissing a moment prior. The skin there is still warm. Tender. It makes you shiver when your fingers graze it.

“C’mon, what’s wrong?” he mutters, still eyeing you just as intensely as before. “I can tell whenever something’s bothering you… Spit it out.”

“Nothing is bothering me, okay? Gosh,” you try to reassure him, but still turn your head to the side to stare at the television. 

The movie he’d put on earlier is already halfway through and you doubt he has the option to rewind it. Oh, well.

Watching you dismiss the entire thing, Kiba looks like he’s about to fight you on it, surely getting ready to accuse you of being a liar like he’s had a habit of playfully doing in the past. However, just when his mouth pops open to say the words, you prevent him from doing so by pressing both of your palms on his front and gathering up his T-shirt between your fingers.

He stills only for a second before he starts to push out his chest at your touch, puffing up with male-like bravado as he goes. His shoulders square up. His eyes flash with that sublime yellow colour. And you might be imagining the whole thing at this point, but you swear that even his scent grows stronger in intensity. 

The entire room is engulfed by that signature amber scent now. You peer up at him once more, mind slightly hazy and astounded.

But besides the astonishment, you also feel… soothed. Kind of.

Burden or no burden, he’s down bad for you all the same, isn’t he? 

“What is it now?” he grumbles in answer to the wide look in your eyes. “You’re starin’ at me all weird-like again.”

You swallow the saliva that’s gathered in your mouth for what must be the millionth time tonight. It’s runny and thin, laced with adrenaline. “Are you courting me right now?”

“Huh?” His face twists into a look of pure confusion for a second time in a row.

“You’re pushing your chest out like a bird during one of those mating dances that you see on TV,” you explain, tugging on his T-shirt as if it’ll help you prove your point. “Are you trying to impress me or something?”

“Tsch… What? No... It’s just, ah… The fuck?” He blinks, shaking his head as if he’s trying to get his thoughts in order. His back hunches slightly with the action. You’ve caught him completely off guard.

You smile. “What is it, then?”

“It’s just my body reacting to a mate’s touch, damn… I told you about it in the woods last week, didn’t I? What’s with all the questions all of a sudden?” He clicks his tongue against his teeth once more, apparently unaffected by what you have to say, but also immediately draws back; causing distance until he’s lying between you and the backrest of the couch instead of on top of you. 

You’re not aware of it, but he’s beginning to blush like a sucker after he realizes how that treacherously primal part of his brain had made him react just now — fully without his knowledge.

Trying to appear bigger and wooing you with his scent? What are you, animals? Besides, you aren’t even capable of distinguishing pheromones like he can, for fuck’s sake! What’s he doing all of this weird shit for?!

This time, heat continues to climb up Kiba’s neck instead of yours, and overtakes his entire face with such speed that it makes his cheeks itchy. Even the tips of his ears have turned hot to the touch. He feels like he’s on the verge of melting into a puddle of despair any second now.

Gosh, you must think he’s such a loser.

He doesn’t say anything else as he wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you closer until your back is pressed against his chest, feeling slightly relieved to not hear any protests from your side. 

But to some extent, he’s not all that surprised. While you might be taking this entire thing slow, spooning is nothing new. You’ve done it even whilst you were both desperately trying to keep your friendship as something purely platonic instead of whatever it is now. So when you compare it to all the grinding that you did just now, this is angel city.

His voice is barely above a sheepish murmur as he says, “Whatever… Let’s just watch the movie, yeah?”

You don’t mention that the film is nearing its end and that you’ve already seen it in theaters a couple months ago with your friends from college. Nor the fact that you found his little portrayal of desire — as well as the feeling of embarrassment that followed it afterwards — outright adorable and that it helped ease your worries a little bit.

No, all you do is snuggle up closer to him and nod your head yes.

———

Summer passes by quickly when you’re reunited with your best friend again.

If you had to describe the last couple of months with one word, it’d be nostalgic. During the days when he’s off work and you’re not busy with your family, Kiba makes sure to take you on a trip down memory lane one way or another. 

On some evenings, you drop by the small convenience store that you used to constantly occupy as kids, so that you can buy popsicles and then sit on a bench in the nearby park; taking turns licking the different flavours and talking late into the night, or at least until the artificial colouring has been wiped away from your tongues. 

On particularly hot days, you drive to the lake where you’ve both been taught how to swim by your parents in order to cool off, and compete to see who's able to hold their breath the longest. He ends up being the winner almost every time, of course, and never misses the chance to rub it in your face.

You even still do shitty movie marathons, however this time they’re occasionally accompanied by Kiba’s roommate, Kankuro, who you’ve since learned is a pretty cool guy, despite his slightly odd obsession with purple face paint. He’s also the one who’d helped you bake Kiba’s birthday cake back in July.

All in all, things concerning your best friend have remained quite the same as they’ve always been. Well, most of them did.

There may have been a couple of changes here and there ever since you’ve learned you were his mate. 

Some are pretty tame. For example, you can’t brush over the look of pure longing that appears in his eyes as he watches you lick a rogue droplet of sugar whenever you’re sucking on the popsicle he’d just handed you. Or the way his touch lingers on your shoulders and traces down your spine and hips when you ask him to help you apply sunscreen on your back after your swim.

But then there are some of the more twisted kind. Sometimes, whenever Kankuro can’t make it to your movie marathons, you also can’t ignore the way your best friend sighs and grunts and whispers the nastiest of profanities into the side of your neck as you sit on his lap and rub your clothed pussy against the hard-on in his pants.

It’s always done the same way. On his couch, in the dark, and never talked about afterwards since it tends to make you both agitated with even more lust. Your skirt is bunched up in his too-big hands — you’re always making sure they don’t go any farther than that because they try, oh boy, do they try — and there are zero kisses exchanged between you in order to keep things moving slow but still giving him the fix he needs so that he doesn’t slip into another unannounced rut, as he likes to call it.

So far, your compromise shows promise. Over the span of the last couple of weeks, there had only been one single occasion of actual skin on skin contact; when he’d somehow managed to distract you for long enough to pull your panties to the side and pull out his cock from the confines of his clothes without you being quick enough to stop him. 

However, much to his — and secretly your own — misfortune, you’d been mewling his name and rubbing your pussy against him for a long while back then, consequently overstimulating him to great, almost unfair lengths in the process. The second his cockhead had gotten the chance to bump against your soaked entrance, he was not bound to last. 

So he’d spilled everything he had with a sharp hiss and a frustrated “fuuuck” and just like that, you were safe from being pounded into oblivion once again — if you exclude the sticky, cloudy white mess splattering between your thighs, that is.

And that was that.

But now, with summer coming to a swift end and a new school year waiting right around the corner, the time has come for you to say goodbye to your best friend once again.

Kiba accompanies you to the airport and pulls you into a bone-crushing hug when it’s time for you to board your flight, his features unusually impassive during the entirety of it. He leans down to kiss your cheek, surely receiving curious glances from your parents with the act, and mumbles something about texting him when you land so that he knows you’re safe.

You do as he asks of you when you arrive to campus that day, even going as far as to send him a picture of your little student apartment that you share with two other roommates, jokingly calling it a dump. He reads your text message almost instantly, but his reply is curt. When you call him to say good night after you’ve finished unpacking your stuff and settling in, you barely recognize the sound of his voice.

“G’night,” he mutters. “Try not to be a dumbass on your first day.”

The jab is meant to be playful, but instead it comes across as void of any kind of emotion whatsoever. Flat and unlively. You can tell even if he desperately tries to cover it up with more teasing remarks and lame jokes. 

It gets better over time, though. You’re well aware that he’s handling the distance way worse than any other regular human would, especially since he’s a semi-mated wolf now, so you try to keep him in the loop as often as you can. He, on the other hand, tries to give you space and keeps his more possessive side on a tight leash. His main priority is to make your friendship — or should you say situationship — work.

Speaking of his more possessive side, you’ve both made precautions to lessen the chance of the beast within him from going haywire. He makes sure to go completely off the grid during a full moon, and every so often, you mail him a T-shirt or two so that he still has a way of inhaling your scent and thus satisfying the urge to come seek you out. After the scent fades out, he sends your clothes back washed, but not ironed; typical for a man like him, before the cycle repeats itself again.

He’d once, jokingly, not so jokingly, texted you about sending him a pair of your panties instead, however all he got in response to that was an angry wall of text and a series of pissed off-looking emojis. He’d abandoned the idea soon after.

You do indulge him with phone sex from time to time, though. And while you do keep telling yourself that it’s done solely to keep him in-check, deep down, you know that that simply isn’t the case. 

Because when the hour is late, Kiba likes to remind you just how badly he misses you in that warm, rich, confident voice that makes your back want to straight up arch from the bed. Likes to talk about all the things that he wants to do to you with zero hesitance — hesitance you wish you, yourself didn’t have — while he strokes his cock; all until you find yourself reaching into the drawer of your nightstand so that you can hurriedly press your trusty pink vibrator to your clit. 

But it’s not just you who finds him hot — your roommates do, too. They’ve peered over your shoulder once or twice while you were FaceTiming him in the kitchen, fully clothed, of course, and have since been asking for regular updates on your so-called ‘boyfriend’, wondering when they’ll get to meet the guy who’s actually managed to swipe the rug from underneath your feet, in person.

And the answer is: on Halloween. They’ll meet him on Halloween.

———

Oddly enough, Kiba seems to fit right into the college party scene, despite never pursuing a degree of his own.

After successfully planning out his visit together, you realize that the frat house that you’ve dragged him to in order to celebrate this year’s Halloween in, is packed with people; some of them in costumes, while the rest have decided to go for a more casual approach. 

Dressed in jeans, the same faded baseball cap that you saw him wearing back when you’d bumped into him in the grocery store at the beginning of summer, and a simple T-shirt and flannel combo, your best friend doesn’t particularly stand out amongst the latter. 

He’d landed this morning, grinning tiredly and with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. You nearly started bursting at the seams with joy the second you caught sight of him halfway across the airport. He wasn’t much better.

Hugging out all your emotions first, you then spent the entire day catching up, as well as healing the phantom wounds that the distance had caused. It was nice. So nice, in fact, that you’d almost forgotten how easy and complicated it was at the same time with him.

And now here you are. Together again.

Eyes glimmering with fondness, you watch as he leisurely chats with your friends who he’d already gotten to meet back at the apartment. As is expected for an extrovert like Kiba, he has no problem keeping up with the conversation. 

His body language is relaxed even when he has to lie about wearing yellow contacts; swiftly feigning that it’s because he wants to keep the spirit of Halloween alive and because he, of course, couldn’t possibly have brought a full costume with him to the airport. 

Meanwhile, you’re well aware that his reasoning couldn’t be farther from the truth. His eyes had shifted from their regular brown shade the second he’d caught you emerging from the bathroom, dressed in a pair of tight jeans and with a bunny ears headband sitting atop your head — a rather mediocre choice of a costume, but one that you knew he’d dig nonetheless.

“What, no heels?”

“Have you seen the floor of a frat house before?”

“No.”

“Well, you’re going to now, and then you’re going to understand why I chose normal girl shoes.”

While riddled with mischief at your answer, his eyes haven’t gone back to normal since.

And neither has he. No, instead he had spent a good twenty minutes scenting you in the privacy of your little bedroom; embracing you and running his rough hands up and down your arms and sides, touching your neck and face all over until you were almost late to the party and glittery highlighter coated every last one of his fingers.

“You do realize that normal people don’t have a heightened sense of smell like you do, right?” you’d grumbled by the fourth repetitive stroke, making a face when he even went as far as to lean in and start rubbing his cheek against your own. “Nobody is going to be like, ‘Woah, watch out! This one smells like werewolf property!’ if I get kidnapped or something.”

The laughter-like sound he’d let out had come across as terribly jeering. “You say that like anyone would even have a chance of forcibly taking you away from me.” 

With a soft incline of your head, you had asked, “Wouldn’t they?”

“‘Course not, you silly bunny.” He’d looked you right in the eyes then, his pupils briefly thinning into feline-like slits, allowing the apex predator within to shine on through. “I’d rip out their throats with my teeth before they’d even get a chance to blink. Easy as pie.” 

His gaze had been shiver-inducing. The words even more so. “But what if there would be like… ten of them?”

“I can take on ten people.”

“You can barely handle me whenever I’m in a lousy mood.”

“Well, it’s a good thing that you don’t count, then.” The grin he’d given you in return had been sharp. Too sharp, despite the cutesy dimple digging into his cheek. Especially as he held your face between his palms and purred, “Also, you’re not my property, you’re my mate. It’s supposed to make us equals, so please try to act like one for my sake, yeah?”

And they said romance was dead.

“Yeah.” Attempting to not pay attention to the butterflies that were wildly fluttering in your stomach again, all you managed was, “Equals who are going to be late.”

“Shit.” His eyes got wide as saucers at that. He’d given one last stroke, one last squeeze, and had pressed a hasty kiss onto your forehead before saying, “Okay, I think I’m done... Ready when you are.”

You’re unsure if it’s placebo, but you think his scent still clings to you even two hours later, when the party is in full swing and you’re chatting away with one of your guy friends in the kitchen.

Besides said friend, there are only two other people in the room — none of which you can recognize, from the way they’re too busy eating face only a few meters away from you. Kiba, reluctant to leave your side despite your many reassurances, had somehow gotten dragged into a round of beer pong by a group of rowdy jocks.

Every so often, you can hear cheering coming from one of the rooms nearby. You don’t doubt that he’s acquired quite a crowd for himself already. His dream and your worst nightmare.

“So, what’s the deal with you and the dunce?”

Blinking at the sudden question that whisks away your brain fog, you look up from your plastic cup of cranberry juice that others have been using to mix their cheap vodka with. Not feeling like taking the risk of being hungover because of particularly shitty booze the next morning, you’d decided to stay sober tonight, hence the juice.

“Sorry, what?” you ask. “I wasn’t listening.”

Your friend, Shikamaru Nara is his name, looks at you with signature exasperation at having to repeat himself again. 

“I was asking about your… friend,” he mutters after a brief pause, using the second chance of you not hearing the initial jab. 

“Oh, you mean Kiba?” you say, bringing the cup up to your lips. “Yeah, what about him?”

“Are you hooking up with him?”

The sip of cranberry juice you’d just taken lodges itself into the back of your throat at the question. It hurts like a bitch as you fight to swallow it down, unable to resist squeezing your eyes shut at the sensation, however you manage to avoid sputtering and coughing yourself into embarrassment by the end of it.

Clearing your throat as discreetly as you can, your voice sounds slightly hoarse when you ask, “Why do you ask that?”

Shikamaru, without missing a beat, says, “I dunno, he just looks at you like he’s planning on eating you or something. It’s odd.”

You glance up at the man that’s leaning against the kitchen counter next to you, noticing how the whites of his eyes are red instead of as the name suggests. His pupils are so big and round and hazy that they remind you of a cat looking around in the dark. He seems to be so high that he doesn’t have a problem with saying whatever is on his mind.

Either that, or he simply doesn’t give a shit. Both are valid reasonings whenever it comes to him.

“Kiba’s just… protective,” you manage to say after a brief moment of thought, shoulders shrugging. “He’s been like that ever since I can remember.”

Shikamaru’s eyebrow raises at this piece of information. “Even when you were kids?”

“Oh, yeah.” You nod vehemently. “Back then, it was even more intense than it is now, I think. You should have seen him playing a friendly game of dodgeball when we were in high school.”

‘HEY! AIM THAT BALL AT HER HEAD AGAIN, AND I SWEAR TO GOD I’LL SMASH YOUR FUCKING TEETH IN NEXT, YOU LOUSY FUCK!’

The memory makes the corners of your lips curl upwards. You’re quick to hide the smile behind the rim of the cup.

“Hm.” Shikamaru hums, puffing out a tired sigh that you’ve had the pleasure of hearing countless of times ever since meeting him during your first year of college.

“What is it?” you inquire.

“Nothing,” he replies. “Just thinking.”

“You’re always doing that,” you say. “Thinking.”

“Someone’s gotta do it,” he answers, giving you a lazy grin that doesn’t seem to reach his dark brown eyes.

You huff a laugh at the tease. “And what is it that you’re thinking about with that brilliant brain of yours, Megamind?”

“Stuff.”

“Stuff?”

“Yeah.”

You turn to look at him, using the chance to drag your gaze over his side profile. Over his high cheekbones, as well as the sharp outline of his nose. The cigarette that’s tucked behind his ear. The slight wrinkle between his eyebrows that tells you he’s thinking very hard about something.

A couple of loose strands of dark brown hair have escaped his ponytail, framing his face in a way that flatters him greatly. Being so dark, they’re a perfect contrast to his creamy skin that’s so unlike Kiba’s sun-kissed one.

Come to think of it, they’re nothing alike. Shikamaru is lean in build despite being awfully lazy by nature, whereas Kiba packs muscle with hard work. He’s smart, rational, not at all prone to anger, and can sometimes come across as borderline aloof. 

Besides a couple of other things, all he seems to care about is putting in the minimal amount of effort when it comes to getting by in school, so that he can achieve mediocre — but passable — grades, and thus has nothing left to worry about by the time the weekend rolls around and the bong comes out to play.

His tendency to be overly laid-back was the exact reason why you had decided to go out of your comfort zone and fool around with him last spring. With no strings attached, you’d fucked while still managing to remain friends afterwards. Besides that, he was such a perfect opposite to the man you’d left behind in your hometown, that it had almost been a, dare you say, refreshing experience.

But Kiba never did go fully away, now did he? Not even after you’d completely ghosted him and finally ceased stalking him on Instagram; trying to rid yourself of the sinking feeling in your chest that appeared whenever he posted a picture with his girlfriend at the time. Not even after you’d deleted the chat logs you shared with him on just about every app you could find, knowing you’d regret it afterwards. Not even when you’d left the pictures and other memories back at home, sealed away in a box underneath your bed.

You’d been sleeping with the deer while silently yearning for the wolf.

It’s why you broke the entire thing off with Shikamaru sometime after the New Year, aiming to rather try and move on solely by your own efforts — fresh start and everything. All whilst not knowing that you’d become a mate to your childhood best friend by the end of summer.

“Shika,” you utter, your gaze as soft as your voice. “I–”

“It’s okay. I think I got the gist of it,” he cuts in, staring at his shoes. “Whatever it is that you two have going on between you; it’s older than what we had. So, it’s more… fleshed out? From being best friends since kindergarten and stuff.”

“Yeah.” You sigh, angling your cup so that you can take the last sip of your drink. “I guess it is, when you say it like that.”

Shikamaru reaches out to wipe away the rogue droplet of cranberry juice that comes sliding down from the corner of your mouth, then. However, before his thumb can even make contact with your bottom lip, you’re quick to do it yourself.

“Am I interrupting somethin’?” a voice calls out from your left.

Kiba’s jaw is set and his eyes are hard when you turn to look at him. He stands in the middle of the doorway that leads into the hall; the light that’s shining behind his back obscuring most of his face from view, however you can still see that he forces his expression to remain fairly neutral as he begins to approach you. 

Every step he takes towards you makes you feel like it could make the ground shake. It doesn’t of course, at least not in a physical kind of sense, but his anger is becoming so palpable the closer he gets that it very much could. For some reason, it’s even worse that he’s trying to hide how pissed he is.

After all, Kiba is prone to anger that resembles a wildfire — the kind that spreads quickly and consumes everything in its path. Once it’s started, it’s hard to make it fizzle out before it does too much damage. You just have to let it do its thing and pretend like everything is normal.

Burn, baby, burn!

“No,” you say when he reaches you, pretending like the entire ordeal doesn’t faze you at all, despite the fact that your heart is now pulsating wildly in your chest. “You aren’t.”

You’re well aware that he wouldn’t hurt you, but that doesn’t mean the others are safe.

He stands before you like a wall of muscle, emitting white-hot rage with every exhale. With how tense his shoulders have gotten, as well as the bulging vein in the side of his neck that’s surely there because of how harshly he’s gritting his teeth, he looks like he could crush someone to death. 

However, his touch ends up being surprisingly tender when you allow him to grip you by the chin. You repress a relieved chuckle as he angles your head back slightly, making you realize that he’s touching the exact same spot Shikamaru would have if you’d let him. So possessive.

His brow furrows as he inspects you and his voice is rough as gravel as he says, “Why are your lips so red?”

“Cranberry juice,” you explain, pointing to the empty cup you’re still holding in your hand. “How did beer pong go?”

“It sucked ass,” he drawls, tugging on the brim of his hat with impatient fingers. The fireball of anger keeps on sizzling in the pit of his stomach. It makes his blood run hot. “The two dudes I went against were both so shit-faced that they could barely stand, much less score... I regret being sober.”

“Weren’t you drinking before, though?” Shikamaru asks all of a sudden.

Uh-oh. At the sound of the Nara’s voice, you watch as he slowly turns his head to the side in the same uncanny way a robot would have done.

Kiba looks the other man right in the eye, making a quick mental note to keep both of his arms glued to his sides in order to refrain himself from swinging just because he even had the balls to speak up while he was talking to you.

Jesus fucking Christ, since when did his temper get this short? He needs to work on it in the future or else it’s going to become a problem.

“Beer doesn’t do much for a guy like me,” he grits out after a brief moment of recollecting himself.

His tone is completely flat. Icy. 

You stare at the muscle that keeps on fluttering in his cheek even if he’s trying his hardest to tame it. At how yellow his eyes have gotten, nearly glowing in the dimly-lit kitchen, threatening to ruin the ruse of being contacts. At the way his chest heaves; rising up and down in such a manner that it makes you fear he’s seconds away from pouncing.

Shikamaru, being the intelligent man that he is, must have come to the same conclusion, because now he pushes from the counter with an awkward bounce in his step as he says, “Well, I guess it’s time for my smoke break… If you’ll excuse me.”

Either that, or the more primal part of his brain is telling him to get the fuck out before it’s too late. It’s so bad that even the make out enthusiasts proceed to follow his example.

“Bye, Shika,” you utter quickly, giving your fellow classmate a small wave when he passes by. Meanwhile, Kiba only stares, probably drilling warning holes into the poor guy’s back all the way to the very end of the hall.

Alone in the kitchen at long last, your best friend allows himself to sigh as a means to relieve some tension. The muscles in his arms relax as he rests them on either side of you, successfully trapping you against the counter.

You don’t feel caged, though. That’s the important part.

Led by that comforting feeling, you place the cup onto the counter before reaching out to carefully stroke him over the chest. “You okay?”

“No,” he grumbles, trying not to preen right in front of you at the touch. 

Your eyebrows draw together. “What’s wrong?”

His do, too. “You know damn well what’s wrong.”

“Enlighten me, please.”

“Not that it’s a you problem or anything…” He sighs again and this time the sound is way longer than earlier. “But I can’t leave ya alone for two seconds without someone immediately trying to sneak their way into your pants.”

“What?” The laugh you let out is a slightly incredulous one. “I know that you’re forced to see me in some kind of holy light because of the mating bond, but you’re seriously flattering me way too much with this one, Kiba.”

“Well, it’s the truth,” he says, his lips thinning into a firm line. “What do you think that the douchebag with the cig and the big-ass forehead was tryin’ to do just now? Ask you to join his debate club?”

You push aside the insult for now, making a note to prohibit him from saying it aloud whenever you’re in the company of others. “His name is Shikamaru.”

“I don’t care what his name is,” Kiba says, bristling. “All I know is that I could smell how hard his dick was getting around you from a mile away, and it made me-”

“Jealous?” you cut in.

He frowns. “I was gonna say grossed out, but sure.”

You giggle before biting your lip to stop the sound. “Come to think of it, that does sound pretty gross, you’re right.”

“Whatever.” He huffs, lowering his gaze. It’s not long before there’s an even deeper frown gracing his mouth.

“What is it now?” you ask.

“Nothing. Well… I just- Ugh.” He groans in frustration, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I know I said that I’d always respect your decision when it came down to choosin’ between me or someone else, but I didn’t think it’d be this… hard.”

“What are you going on about?” You pry his hand away so that you can look him in the eyes. His pupils are nothing but slits. “I haven't made any kind of decision yet. Nothing happened.”

“Okay, but still… Seeing someone else trying to touch you like that, scenting it…” he says. “I thought I could handle it for your sake, but clearly that ain’t the case. I should’ve cooled off before trying to start shit, and yet I actively chose to behave like a dick instead.”

“Actually, I thought you did a pretty decent job at controlling your awfully jealous self. Give or take,” you console, giving him a playful wink. It only causes his brow to furrow further.

“That’s not the point. Jealousy might be all fun and games to regular people, but it’s different with me. I felt like I was seconds away from skinning the dude alive… And maybe eating him afterwards, I dunno,” he says, his expression turning even more troubled than before. “Bet he’d taste like shit, though.”

“Well… What matters is that you didn’t do that.” You pat his shoulders as a form of encouragement and quickly decide on not telling him about your history with Shikamaru just yet since you’re not particularly fond of the idea of having a body on your hands. “One step at a time, yeah?”

“I guess,” he mutters. Disappointment still continues to bubble in Kiba’s stomach. It brings forth a slightly bitter taste on his tongue.

You stare at him, raking your gaze over the great expanse of his shoulders, down to his forearms, which he’s got revealed due to the sleeves being rolled up to his elbows. Now that the initial anger has diminished from his face, he just looks plain miserable. Like a puppy that’s been soaked to the bone, despite that he’s far bigger than that.

“You wanna go home and cuddle it out?” you blurt out all of a sudden, tracing the tattoos on his left forearm with your index finger.

He peers up at you from underneath his lashes. Not wanting to come across as even more clingy or suffocating, all he utters is, “If that’s what you want.” 

“I’m asking you.”

He looks down again, bright yellow eyes zeroing in on his shoes. If it weren’t so dark in this godforsaken kitchen, perhaps you would’ve noticed the subtle blush tinging his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

“I mean… If you really don’t wanna stay here,” he trails off, swallowing thickly. “Then, yeah. I suppose we could go back to yours and cuddle a little.”

You grin. “Look at you getting all mushy on me.”

Kiba gives you an eye roll. “Oh, shut up before I change my mind and just catch the first flight home.”

———

Despite initially not wanting to seem clingy, Kiba becomes exactly that after you both rinse off and clamber into bed that night.

In the dark, surrounded fully by your scent that lingers everywhere in your room, he feels safe enough to let his guard down; allowing himself to really dote on you properly — like he’s wanted to do for the last two months. 

As a result, his arm is protectively slung over your waist, and his legs are entangled with yours as he spoons you. His hand is beneath your shirt, tracing soft, lazy circles over your stomach. There are no claws in sight.

“God, I’ve missed this,” he grumbles at some point, sighing with contentment and squeezing you even closer to him. 

“Me too,” you admit, enjoying the close proximity. “Especially our dumb late night convos.”

You’ve been talking about everything and nothing in particular for the last hour or so; giggling and snickering like children and continuing on catching up, simply enjoying each other’s company. Just like old times.

Kiba clicks his tongue against his teeth in disagreement. “What d’you mean? They’re always dumb.”

“Well yeah, but that’s because they include you,” you tease, suppressing a tiny squeal when he pokes you in the side.

“As far as I know, it takes two to hold a conversation,” he fires back, squeezing your hip. “Unless you’re a nutcase, that is.”

“Hey, now… I talk to myself sometimes,” you say, turning your head to the side just enough to face him. “When I’m, like, thinking out loud and stuff.”

He quirks a brow at this. “Weirdo.”

“Pfsh.” You huff, rolling your eyes. “If anyone’s the weirdo here, then it’d be you, Mr. On all levels except physical, I am a wolf.”

“See, that doesn’t make any sense because I am a wolf on a physical level.” He drums his fingers against your skin playfully, hinting that he’ll maybe poke you in the side again. “Therefore, your joke sucks.”

“It’s still funny, though,” you protest. “And look at you, using your big boy words. Therefore. What’s gonna be next? Begging for a shilling?”

You watch as he smiles that wretched grin that shows off his dimple. His laugh is quiet, but it kindles a flame of affection inside your heart.

“You’re such a pain in the ass, you know that?” he says, still laughing.

“So I’ve been told, yeah,” you reply with a beaming smile of your own. His mood is contagious. “Multiple times.”

“Mm. I like it, though. This more confident, outgoing version of you.” After a brief moment of silence, he adds, “It makes me less worried.”

You ask, “Less worried about what?”

“If you’ll be able to stick up for yourself in case I’m not around,” he explains, not offering much more.

You blink as slight confusion begins to settle in. “And why wouldn’t you be around?”

“Well, you know,” he says, shrugging as a means to appear indifferent, but failing. “If you decide on being with someone other than me, then I guess there’d be no reason for me to stay in your life.” 

“What do you mean there’d be no reason?” you say, frowning deeply now. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you’re aware that the thing you say next is selfish, but you just can’t help it, “You’d still be my best friend… Wouldn’t that be enough?”

He smiles again, but this time it’s a little less beaming and a little more painful. “Bunny, of course it’d be enough. I’d spend my whole life trying to give ya the love that I think you deserve, even as just a friend. But let’s be real here… If I did that, it’d just cause… problems.”

“Problems?” you repeat, your voice hurt. “What kind of problems?”

“You’ve seen for yourself what happened tonight,” he says.

“Nothing happened tonight.” Quick frustration makes you groan. “And I’m pretty sure I’ve told you that already, so why are we going over the same conversation again?”

“Exactly, nothing happened, but look at the way I still reacted to it,” he says, sighing out of exasperation instead of contentment this time around. “I was ready to go batshit crazy over nothing… How do you think I’m gonna react if we meet up and you’ve got your boyfriend’s scent all over ya? Who says I’m not gonna go and try to bite the guy’s head off?”

You stare at each other. The knot in your belly tightens at the way he looks at you; his eyes still burning with that striking yellow shade, despite the inner conflict that subdues it ever so slightly now.

“Do you think we were destined to be together?” you ask out of the blue.

Kiba gives you a look that tells you he’s starting to worry if you’ve gone a bit nuts. “What?”

“I mean, like, do you think that we had no say in this entire thing,” you attempt to explain lamely. “Or, well… that you had no say in it?”

“I don’t believe in destiny,” he says finally.

“Well, what would you call this thing between us, then?” you mumble. “I mean, isn’t a mating bond supposed to be just some kind of a wolfy version of it?”

“I- No, I don’t think so,” he says, slowly shaking his head. “I already told you that I approached you because of the bond at first, yeah… But over the years, I’m pretty sure that I’ve come to love you on purpose. Like, on my own terms.”

Your heart skips a beat. The world feels like it’s spinning all of a sudden.

“How can you tell the difference, though?” you croak out. “Between genuine love and the forced one that the bond is pushing on you?”

“Um… Because I’m willing to spend the rest of my life alone, fighting against the red string of fate or whatever the fuck you want to call it, if it means that you’ll be happy, I guess,” he whispers quietly, his expression suddenly thoughtful. “Come to think of it, it’d be like my own personal fuck you towards destiny, hah.”

There’s no one else beside you and him in the house right now — your roommates are still out partying and doing god knows what — but he says it like it’s a secret that he’s been keeping for years.

And you, well, you feel like crying. Like curling yourself into a little ball underneath the covers that you’re sharing with him at the moment, and simply sobbing your heart out until it’s leaking out of your chest.

But instead of that, you look at him. You reel the tears in as you really look at him, and you say, “All right.”

You’ve always been so cautious. So hesitant and unsure — nothing like him. Ever since he’d revealed the truth during that godforsaken camping trip, Kiba speaks of the love that he feels for you so openly. 

Goddammit, he loves you. He actually loves you. Not because of the bond, not because you’re his perfect biological match, not because his instinct is telling him to do so. 

No, he loves you because of the memories that you’ve made together. Because of the laughter that you’ve shared. Because of all the good and the bad and everything else that’s in-between.

He loves you because he wants to, not because he needs to.

“All right?” he repeats, studying your face. “What’s that supposed t’mean?”

“It means that I’m done taking it slow. I think,” you say, trying to stop your upper lip from twitching. Your body feels tense all over once again; you feel like you’ll start bursting at the seams because of the storm of emotions that’s brewing inside you. “For once in my life, I think that I’m choosing to go all in.”

Kiba’s heart begins to pound so hard that he can hear it ringing in his ears.

“You… You mean…?” he trails off, not even daring to finish the sentence.

“Yes,” you say as your breathing slightly quickens. “We can give this thing a try; properly this time. I-I mean, fuck it, right? We haven’t been just friends for a long while now, so what’s there to lose anyway?”

He smiles at that, and for a second it’s like you can see him again — your childhood best friend. Short and scrawny, but equipped with that brazen assurance that used to get him into all sorts of trouble.

“Yeah,” he says. His smile nearly grows from ear to ear. He feels like he could touch the sky at that very moment; unbridled joy is beginning to overcome him completely. “I suppose you’re right.”

“I, umm… I guess it’s time to admit that I’ve been crushing on you for years, then. Well, I think! I’m pretty sure I was always head over heels for you, even back in high school, but I didn’t allow myself to dwell on it too much because of… well, you know,” you trail off, still riding that high of confidence that allows every bit of truth to spill out of you now. 

“So when we almost kissed before I left for college, I… I got scared. You were with Tamaki at the time, and I was leaving, and I thought you’d end up regretting it from the way it would surely mess up your whole relationship and our friendship.” You look at him, eyes apologetic. “I didn’t mean to ghost you like I did, but god… The entire thing was so messy, just chaos waiting to happen, and I was too big of a coward to deal with all that, especially after moving across the country and turning a new chapter in my life. And I’m well aware that it’s no excuse for what I did, but I just wanted you to know… the real reason behind it. And that I’m sorry.”

“I wouldn’t have regretted it, though,” he says, his gaze softening. “If you’d kissed me back at mine that night, I would never have regretted it. My relationship with Tam was a fuckin’ bust either way.”

“I know that now, you dumbass!” You huff, eyebrows cinching with frustration and stress. “But what’s the use if I didn’t know it back then.”

“Bunny,” he coos, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Breathe.”

“Oh, shut up,” you fuss, pushing him in the chest. “I’m over here, pouring my heart out to you, and you’re basically telling me to calm down. Idiot.”

He snickers at your anger, thinking it’s so cute that it’s to die for. “Well, what do you want me to do, then?”

“I want-” Your teeth sink into your bottom lip, chewing on it as shyness manages to creep up on you at long last. You don’t feel as confident as before when it comes to admitting to your desires out loud, so the only time you stop your incisor from digging deeper, is when you mumble, “I want you to kiss me.”

If Kiba’s gaze had been soft before, now it’s gone utterly sweet and gooey. It makes his lids drop very, very, very low on his eyes.

“Yeah?” is all he says.

“Yeah. But not like you did back at home,” you say, remembering the urgency and the forceful clash of teeth that he’d given you because of the rut that had been cooking his brain into mush at the time. “I want it done properly this time.”

“I can do that,” he says, chuckling quietly. “But don’t act like you didn’t enjoy our first kiss. I could smell how excited you got over it, remember?”

“Whatever,” you hiss, bunching up the front of his T-shirt into your fists. “Either you behave and kiss me like a gentleman, or you’re sleeping on the floor tonight.”

“Hah, all right, all right! No need to threaten me, jeez,” he says. He’s still laughing as he caresses your cheek with one hand and angles your head so that he can do what you’re asking him for. “C’mere, you grouch… Let’s get smoochin’.”

“I hate you.”

“I thought you said you loved me.”

“I said I liked you, not-”

The rest of your sentence is broken off by a kiss.

Unlike the first time, it’s gentle. Perhaps you could even call it romantic. He cups your cheek instead of gripping it, and doesn’t become pushy; rather allowing you to take charge of the pace. There’s no tongue, only lip brushing against lip. Your breaths intermingle, to the point that you both start quietly panting in-between the short little pauses that you use for air. 

Your stomach is doing backflips by the time he slowly pulls back to look at you. His eyes are not only yellow, they’re also ravenous, and they get even more intense when you reach out to comb your fingers through his hair.

The sudden yearning that swoops down upon him makes Kiba’s throat feel so dry that it’s like it’s burning from the inside out. It’s not quite the same as it was back during his rut, but he’s getting there. Oh, he’s getting there, all right.

“More?” he asks after the longest time of silence. His voice has turned completely hoarse. 

“Mhmm, yeah,” you hum your approval, turning around to lay on your back. He instantly uses the chance to prop himself up with one elbow and drapes his upper half over you.

With his face only a couple of centimeters away from your own now, you end up nearly nose to nose. His golden chain dangles from his neck, the sleek metal occasionally cooling your skin in places that it comes in contact with. It causes you to giggle. He smiles when he leans in to kiss you again.

“Wait. I’ve got a question,” you mumble against his lips.

“Mhmm, spill,” he replies in-between kisses.

“I was thinking… Would it be… too much, if I maybe bought a golden initial of my name for you to wear?” you ask, gliding your finger along the piece of jewelry. “Like, as a not-so-secret birthday present for you next year?”

“Nah, I’d wear it,” he says simply. “Only if you wear mine, too, though.”

“Sure.” Your smile grows, little by little. “I’m in need of a new necklace anyway… Just nothing too flashy, okay?”

He snickers. “We’ll get you one of those big-ass golden dollar signs with the diamonds on top, all right?”

“Okay, yeah, that way I can always resell it.”

“Meanie.”

Your hands run through his hair for a second time as you proceed to explore each other’s mouths after months of nothing. They tug at the roots once or twice, making him grunt, before travelling down the nape of his neck and settling on his strong back. Nails grazing the soft cotton of his T-shirt, you nearly start to claw at it when his tongue touches your bottom lip.

Eventually, the kissing gets needier. More desperate. You part your lips for him and he takes his time dragging his tongue across the roof of your mouth, the flat of your teeth, tasting you fully and savouring the minty flavour of the toothpaste that you used earlier. So much saliva gets exchanged.

Besides that, there’s also phantom electricity sizzling across your skin when he carefully sinks one fang into your bottom lip and tugs on it. His caution is endearing and hot to die for, but it also feels like he’s edging you kind of. It takes you all the effort you can muster to not let a moan slip out. 

What you do end up doing, however, is taking his hand and pushing it between your legs. Just like that, all by yourself.

And it’s warm there, between your legs — perhaps even a bit too much, Kiba thinks. He stiffens at your actions, hesitating only for a second before he cups your pussy right over the comfortable shorts that you wear to bed. Watches with semi-focused vision as your hips buck without any sort of doubt that would otherwise be common for you, searching for more friction despite the seam that is now pressing against your clit.

As you continue to rub yourself against the heel of his palm, more and more sweat begins to ooze out of your pores. You’re getting hot, so your hands work seemingly on their own to try and subdue the sudden rise in temperature as you curl your fingers around the hem of your T-shirt and hike it up — all until it’s touching the collar.

With your front now almost fully exposed, Kiba curses under his breath when the sweet, musky aroma of your arousal steadily begins to fill the room that you’re in. The door is closed and the windows are shut, so it hits him like a truck. His mind is getting foggier by the millisecond because of it.

“Something the matter?” you utter sweetly, honey dripping from every word. At this point, your chest has begun to heave with some untamed form of anticipation. You sound nothing like yourself.

“No, everything’s fine,” he mumbles, swallowing thickly. Once again, he’s beginning to borderline drool, this time at the sight of your tits. It makes it hard to talk. “Just enjoyin’ the view.”

“Oh, yeah? Is that so?” You fondle your breasts, running your thumbs across the sensitive nipples, making a show for him just to rile him up further. Who knew you had it in you? “Wanna tell me just how much you’re enjoying it?”

Spit threatens to drip down the corner of his mouth. He sucks it back in the last second. “Bunny… What’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing’s gotten into me? Well, not yet at least… But come on, tell me.” You continue your ministrations, testing his patience. “You love to talk, don’t you?”

“I love to show off more,” he says before he moves his hand from its spot between your legs just so that he can grab you by the wrist and make you touch him below his waistline. “Here... This is all ‘cause of you. Happy?”

You blink as he curls your fingers around the bulge that’s pressing against his boxers, wanting out. Let out a breathless, almost patronizing kind of laugh. “Fuck, you’re so hard… I’m surprised it doesn’t hurt.”

“It does hurt,” he says, voice incredibly strained now. His lips quiver slightly when you give him a stroke all on your own, without him having to ask or beg for it. It makes his mind shift to other things than whatever it is that’s making you behave this way. “I want you so bad; like, so fucking bad… You’re drivin’ me completely nuts.”

You smile at how honest he is. “Touch me and we’ll get there, okay?”

And he smirks, even if his teeth are getting bigger again from the way he’s slowly losing control, gradually affecting his speech. “Don’t hafta tell me twice.”

He kisses you again, but this time it’s harder than before and done in a way that mashes your lips against your teeth. When you open your mouth wider to ease the pressure, all he does is fill it with his tongue. He gets so pushy that you have to resort to tugging on his hair to make him relent.

“Sorry,” he mumbles sheepishly, rather moving his hot mouth to your jawline and neck.

“It’s fine,” is all you manage to say before the grazing of sharp canines immediately shuts you up.

He moves fast after that, almost urgently, from how exhilarated he is to have you like this underneath him; only taking the time to get your T-shirt out of the way so that he can lick your collarbone next. You don’t even get a proper chance to react to it before he’s already dipping even lower to suck on your nipple instead.

“Ha-ah.” Your breathing stutters as you watch his nose smush against the fat of your breast. He’s swirling his tongue around the nipple, nipping it ever so gently from time to time and tugging on it with his lips.

Meanwhile, his hand has slid between your legs again. He’s running his knuckle up and down your slit the same exact way he’d done back at his place during the summer, making the seam of your pyjama shorts rub against your clit. The sensation makes your legs want to close up from the sensitivity that’s sparking there, but he makes sure you’re spread wide open for him at all times.

Eventually, he pops his mouth off your nipple only to begin paving a path of kisses down your stomach. And they’re audible, the kisses. He’s leaving little remnants of glimmering saliva on your skin as he goes, making your middle covered in it.

It’s almost fascinating how smoothly he moves for such a big guy. Before you know it, your shorts are tossed onto the floor right along with your panties, and your legs are propped on his shoulders, the heels of your feet digging into his back.

“Fuck, your pussy smells so good,” he rasps when there’s no barrier separating him from you anymore. He swallows hard at the scent of arousal that’s as strong as ever now, Adam’s apple bobbing with the action. “It’s makin’ me drool… I can’t stop it, m’sorry. I know it’s gross.”

You want to hide your face into the pillow because of how timid his words are making you somewhere deep down inside, but instead all you do is arch your back when he noses his way between your thighs and presses a sloppy kiss there.

His tongue follows suit immediately afterwards and he wastes no time with licking your slit, nudging between your folds, groaning with satisfaction at the taste. Your hands dig into his hair in an instant, grabbing fistfuls when he suckles on your clit.

It’s all happening so fast but at the same time it doesn’t seem fast enough. Heat intensifies inside the pit of your stomach, spreading throughout your thighs, your legs, right to the very tips of your toes. You dig your heels deeper into his back, pull him closer by the hair so that you can receive more.

“Shit, fuck, oh, fuuuck,” you half-moan, half-whisper, borderline gasping for air when you feel his tongue push inside you. It’s longer than a normal human’s, slightly coarser too. It makes you wiggle your hips as you try to fuck yourself against his goddamn face in response.

You have no clue if there’s some secret chemical component in his saliva that’s making you act this feral, but you simply can’t stop writhing and moaning like a slut. What’s even worse is that he tongue-fucks you like his life depends on it. In and out, in and out, the occasional swipe up and down. It’s getting messier and messier, so sloppy that there’s surely a puddle forming on the bed sheet that you’re lying on currently.

And just when you thought you had it all, his tongue gets replaced by his fingers. You tense up, an alarming thought about his claws rushing through your dazed mind, however you’re quickly relieved to find out that they’re nowhere in sight.

They’re just normal, human fingernails on normal, human fingers. Reaching deep inside you. Fuck, reaching so deep inside you. Making you see stars behind closed eyelids. Stretching you and filling you at the same time, making you nearly jump out of your skin when they curl upwards and touch that especially tender spot.

The heat that’s swirling in your tummy worsens as a result — if that is even humanly possible. You feel it rising, feel your face scrunching up, feel your teeth gritting, feel your hips picking up pace, feel your hands grabbing fistfuls of his hair again, tugging way more harshly than you otherwise would as your climax starts to approach fast.

“Gonna- I’m gonna-...!”

“Nuh-uh,” he says all of a sudden, turning his pace to something painfully laggard, to something that isn’t nearly as quick and fulfilling enough to make you cum. “You’re not gonna… Not yet, at least.”

It hurts, it physically hurts; that unsatisfied feeling that resides in the place where your pleasure should be by now. Especially when he purses his lips and allows a glob of spit to land directly onto your pussy, turning you practically slippery between your legs.

He pushes the spit in with the help of his fingers.

“Wha-?” Your eyes grow big as saucers, stinging with upcoming tears at his denial. He’s gotten you so worked up that you just can’t help but behave like a spoiled pillow princess now. Like a proper crybaby.

“What, hm? You gonna cry?” He sneers — surprisingly meanly — at the lost look that appears on your face now. Wiping his mouth against your thigh, he kisses it before he says, “Relax, you’re gonna cum… I just want your bunny cunt squeezin’ around my dick, not my fingers.”

“Then lemme sit on it…! C’mon, lemme ride you or something,” you cry out, voice cracking with urgency and desperation that even you, yourself, don’t recognize. 

You push up from the bed with the help of your elbows so that you can clamber on top of him and ride him like the best cowgirl to ever live under the fucking sun, but all he does is press his hand into the middle of your chest and shoves you right back down onto the mattress.

For fuck’s sake, was this how he felt back when he’d begged you to help him find relief during his rut? Your body feels like it’ll drop dead any second now if you don’t get dicked down soon.

“No, you’ll hurt yourself if you do that ‘cause you ain’t stretched out enough yet. Besides, I’ve got a different idea anyway,” he says, reaching for the back of his T-shirt’s collar so that he can tug it off. “Turn onto your side.”

You stare at the rippling muscle, as well as at all the tattoos that run up his left arm to his shoulder. His hair is messy and his eyes almost glow in the dark. He’s buff, hairy, with sharp teeth and equally as keen-edged facial features. 

In that exact moment, he looks like the embodiment of animalistic hunger. Either that, or it’s just straight up carnage if it were a person.

“Are you going to mount me?” you ask, guts squeezing with anticipation at the mere thought of it. “Like you did back in the woods? ‘Cause I really… enjoyed that last time.”

His brows rise, short-lived surprise crossing his face before he chuckles. “Hah… Later, okay? Gonna fuck you sideways first and stretch you out a lil’ so my cock can fit.”

While Kiba tugs down his underwear, you busy yourself with doing as you’re told. You lie onto your side, clenching and rubbing your thighs together with lewd suspense and bated breath. By the time he spoons you, finally completely naked himself, you’re already bending your legs at the knee, pushing your ass out for him.

“Somebody needs it bad, huh?” he taunts as he pulls you closer to his chest. 

You’re in the same exact position as you were before all of this had started, the only difference is that you’re both naked now.

And, well, you’ve also got his cock sliding up and down your sticky pussy now. Got it smearing pre-cum and arousal and spit together, making you both groan out quiet noises of pleasure whenever the fat cockhead catches against your entrance, which feels like it’s fucking throbbing at this point.

He did something to you, didn’t he? He stuck his tongue fully inside your cunt for the first time instead of only licking and prodding it, and all of a sudden you’re forced to behave like a cat in heat.

“Kiba,” you whisper, breathing so fast that it’s almost frantic. You’re clawing at the sheets and rubbing your cheek against the pillow as you say, “Put it in... Fuck… Mmph, for the love of god, just put it in already…! I need your dick inside me.”

“For fuck’s sake, I’m trying,” he mumbles, frustration making him bite the inside of his cheek. “But I gotta go slowly first so that I don’t rip ya to shreds, bunny... And you beggin’ me for it is not helping ‘cause it’s only making me want to do just that.”

“I don’t care about any of that, just… just put the tip in at least,” you mewl out between words, wiggling your hips, curling your toes. Turning your head to the side to look at him, you instead kiss him with the same forceful shove forward the second your eyes land on him. “Just the tip, yeah? Okay? Like we did it back in the tent.”

He stares at you, jaw clenched and teeth grinding together from how intensely he’s trying to keep himself in-check while also having to do the same exact thing for you as well now. He can smell your need, the sweat that coats your skin, the arousal. Can hear the heavy beating of your heart.

You’re both going to devour each other if one of you doesn’t have some self-control. So Kiba tries to be the one to have it, taking another long moment to grind against you before he finally lets his gaze slip from your nearly bewildered expression, and rather focuses it on guiding his cock straight into your cunt.

You arch against him when his cockhead spreads your folds apart and slowly makes its way inside. Jaw relaxing at the sensation of finally having something to ease all that painful throbbing that’s going on, you gasp for air almost in relief despite the pesky feeling of your pussy squeezing around the girth of his dick.

It’s already demanding more.

“Fuck, bunny,” he grunts, thrusting slowly, easing himself in. “What’s wrong with you…? You’re suckin’ me right in… Shit… Makin’ it real hard f’me to not push in all the way.”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me, just-... j-just keep going,” you whimper out, face turning hot when you feel slick dribbling down his length. He’s so big, perhaps even too big, but your cunt just keeps on taking more and more. It never seems to be enough.

Minutes pass and you’re gradually losing your sense of self right along with them. All you care about is having him inside you. So you fuck the tip first, then half of his cock, and afterwards — fucking finally — you start taking the whole thing.

And it feels good, relieving almost. He’s got his nose nuzzled into the crook of your neck, inhaling and drooling over the spot where your scent is the strongest as he holds your leg up for you and just slowly pounds away. In and out. In and out. In and out.

Meanwhile, you’re drooling all over the pillow as well, blindly reaching behind you to stroke his hair with twitching fingertips as your hips help him in meeting yours over and over again. Every time his fingers dig into the soft spot that’s underneath your knee, it makes you tighten up.

His cock twitches inside you when he buries it in to the hilt, really allowing himself to sink balls deep and making you do that cute little wince that wants to make him go batshit crazy. But instead of doing that, he steadies himself. Reels it back in. Tries to listen to your quick-paced heartbeat and even quicker breaths, despite that he’s paying attention to other things.

Because even if the sounds of skin slapping against skin aren’t that loud from how slowly he’s pushing into you, that doesn’t mean that they aren’t present. He can still hear them all. As well as the occasional gushy little noises that your pussy makes.

They make his balls tighten.

You don’t know how long you do this entire thing, but you orgasm three, three fucking times during it. To some it may be like a dream come true, however to you it’s exhausting. The overstimulation is wiping you out, and yet you keep pushing, keep asking for more, keep turning around to kiss him and whine out little pleas of ‘don’t stop, please don’t stop’.

The stretch stings, as does the spot on your neck where he sank his fangs earlier, but you welcome the overwhelming sensations with open arms. In fact, you’re so feral that you feel like you won’t survive the night if he doesn’t fuck and bite and squeeze this craving for pleasure out of you.

He does a pretty good job with it, though. With how wet you are, it’s fairly easy for Kiba to turn rougher; to turn more bestial and wild and relentless with every push and shove of his hips that he drills into yours. He even uses the vibe he’s had to listen to you pleasure yourself with over the phone these last couple of weeks, in order to help you with your little problem.

But you’re not just wet, you’re also insatiable — yes, that’s what you are! Constantly making noise and clawing at him like a little slut, looking at him with tearful eyes as the fever keeps on kicking you into the goddamn ground. So it’s only when he mounts you, aiming to fuck you like an animal, that you start feeling any sort of satisfaction that actually manages to stick. 

He uses his weight to roll you onto your tummy, and pins you down by placing you in a headlock that has you gasping for air, but also has you cumming on the spot again. You’re pretty sure that it’s the sheer, utter strength and the size difference between your head and his arm that has you behaving this way now instead of the daze, but who knows?

“Already? Christ,” he pants out, his hot exhales tickling your naked shoulder. His entire body is slick with sweat — you’re pretty sure you saw it dripping down his temples earlier. It’s no wonder that the last couple of kisses you’ve exchanged tasted salty. “Who would’ve thought that a good girl like you likes to be fucked this nasty, huh?”

Your lips try to part so that you can answer his jab with one of your own, however your face is squished against his tattooed bicep, rendering that task nearly impossible. Besides that, he’s growling into your ear, crushing you with his weight, getting bigger and bigger, until he’s throbbing inside your cunt, making your voice useless either way.

“My lil’ mate,” he continues, seemingly in a daze himself. He’s whipped at this point, completely pussy drunk. “You are, right? Mine?”

You still can’t say anything other than choked up gibberish from how firmly he’s holding you, however you do make an effort to nod.

But it’s not like he waits for you to actually answer. No, all he does is start picking up speed; starts pounding away for real, eventually making you feel like he’s in your fucking guts each time he draws back and slams right back in.

“Nngh… I’m close, real fuckin’ close... Gimme one more and then I’m… I’m knotting ya, okay, sweetheart? Yeah?” he rasps between quick breaths, voice so hoarse and hot that it ignites a fire straight up inside your soul. “Jus’ one more and then we’re makin’ pups, ‘kay?”

That last sentence alone is enough to get you reaching your finish real fucking fast. Your eyes roll back, your ass pushes up so that he can reach even deeper inside you. His balls slap against your clit with every harsh, unforgiving thrust, and it’s like you’ve gone to heaven.

Maybe it’s a good thing that he’s got you trapped in a headlock. Besides it being the hottest thing that a guy has ever done to you in bed so far, it also ensures that you stay nice and quiet. 

So it only takes you a minute or two to become undone underneath him because of all that’s happening. And the second you tighten around him — the strongest you’ve ever squeezed him tonight — his thrusting turns irregular and almost kind of jerky, picking up in speed more and more until he eventually reaches his climax and comes to a full stop.

Kiba grits his too-big teeth when he cums, spilling every last drop of his warm release inside you and closing his eyes during it. Every muscle in his body hurts from how overly tense he’d forced them to be whilst trying not to go too far since you’re so fragile. But as he wills himself to finally loosen up a little bit, he realizes that that hurts even more. The groan he lets out as a result can barely be registered as human.

But it’s not over just yet. You feel the now familiar, but equally as strange, sensation as his knot begins to swell inside you. The stretch builds up while it fills more and more space, pressing against your tender walls and causing your pussy to protest as it tries to accommodate all of him.

You’re stuck together once again, panting, sweating, trying to piece yourselves back into what you once were while also feeling completely, utterly fucked out.

His breathing is still heavy as he releases the headlock to ask, “What the fuck happened just now?”

“Oh, gosh.” You let out a small, muffled groan underneath him, fussing into the pillow, “I could ask you the same thing.”

“You acted like you were in heat,” he continues, concern shining in his yellow eyes. “Went all feral on me and shit.”

“I feel like I still am,” you say, whining when you feel his knot throbbing inside you in answer. “We’re probably gonna have to go for round two.”

“Fine by me.” He muses before a breathless snicker escapes him. “I’ll fuck you until sunrise if that’s what you want, baby.”

“Don’t act like you didn’t almost die from a heart attack just now.”

He grins from ear to ear. “Pussy so good it kills.”

You roll your eyes. “I wish it did.”

“All right, that’s it. You’re getting squished as punishment.”

“No, wait-”

Ignoring your protests, Kiba succumbs to the tiredness and drops his weight upon you exactly like he’d done the first time when he’d mounted you during the summer. However, before he can kiss you and shower you in praise for doing so well yet again, a small, sudden growl resonates from deep within his chest.

His sensitive wolf hearing picks up on the sound of keys jingling from the other side of the front door, as well as the drunken giggles and wheezing.

Your roommates are back. Great timing.

Looks like you’ll have to play it quiet.

———

Dating a werewolf is easier than expected, when said werewolf is also your best friend.

But even after being in a relationship with him for almost five years now — the last two of those spent living in an adorable little apartment together — you still can’t help but be fazed by how rough he ends up looking after every transformation.

Kiba’s shirt is torn in some places when he comes home the morning after he’d ventured out into the woods to cross off yet another full moon off his calendar. Besides the shirt, you also notice that his shoes are muddy and that his jeans are covered in dirt. Oh, and you’re pretty sure that there’s a twig poking out of his hair. 

All in all, he looks absolutely dead-beat; so exhausted that he can’t even give you a proper smile as he kicks his sneakers off and drags his feet across the kitchen floor. When he finally plops down onto the chair he favours, it’s accompanied by a sigh.

You stand up from your own seat so that you can walk over and give him a kiss on the forehead. When you do, you catch a whiff of his scent. He smells earthy; like rich soil and wet moss. Like a rainy forest.

“Hungry?” you mumble against his tan skin, combing your fingers through his hair to get rid of the twig that’s definitely stuck in there. After a bit of effort, you succeed in pulling it out and make sure to toss it in the trash as you head for the fridge.

“Starvin’,” he answers behind you, his voice completely worn out. “My stomach hurts like a motherfucker from how empty it is.”

“Well, that’s your own fault, now isn’t it? If you’d transformed here like you did last time, I would’ve made sure you were fed throughout the night,” you chide, rummaging through the fridge to pick up the carton of eggs you’d bought the day before. “I even took a day off work because of it, and yet you still decided to go out there into the woods.”

“I gotta keep that dawg in me somehow, don’t I?” he says, laughing like a kid.

“You can keep that dawg in you while you’re lying on a warm couch instead of the cold, wet ground,” you reply, grabbing the eggs. “Bacon?”

“Yes, please,” he says, propping his cheek against one hand.

With his eyes back to their normal brown, Kiba watches you move across the kitchen that you’d built together over the course of an entire week after moving in. He’d boasted that he was entirely capable of doing it himself and had cancelled on the assembly guys without even as much as offering you the chance to argue back. 

Nowadays, whenever he gets another similarly dumb idea, you use the kitchen as a firm example of the consequences that it may bring.

“If I didn’t know any better, I would have thought that you were trying to domesticate me,” he muses, feeling his stomach clench at the smell of food that’s beginning to sizzle on the pan now. “Or you just want to sit on my face when I’m in my monster form again. That’s also an option.”

God, he’s so hungry that it hurts.

“You’re lucky I don’t put you up for adoption just for saying that,” you say, tossing the egg shells away. With how fast embarrassment swoops in, twisting your expression into a flustered one, you’re happy that you’ve got your back turned towards him.

“What? You gonna tell me you didn't enjoy the stuff we did last month?” he asks, smirking at the memory. “‘Cause I seem to recall someone whining like a lil’ bitch in heat from only a couple flicks of tongue.”

He’s not wrong. Ever since he’d finally allowed you to see him in his other form a couple years ago, you’d been excited to experiment a little after the initial shock had worn off. So far, there’s been a lot of licking, plenty of dry humping and zero penetration whatsoever; if you exclude that one time when you tried to take him into your mouth but had ended up slobbering all over his dick instead.

He’s simply too big, and you’ve learned to accept it by now. Rubbing your pussy over the enormous length of his werewolf cock is all you can do, but it’s still satisfying either way. Especially when he cums because of how turned you are at the sight of him even when he’s fucking huge and equipped with sharp claws and teeth that could kill just as easily as they could protect. During those times, his release ends up covering your entire tummy and makes a mess out of his fur.

Nevertheless, Kiba feels so lucky that you’re willing to accept all of him. Feels like the luckiest man — or should he rather say wolf — to ever walk the face of the planet. It’s easier when he’s got a partner to lean on.

“Hey. Language,” you say, your voice stern.

“Sorry.” He lets out a soft little hum in apology that’s meant to appease you further. “I’ll stay home next month, okay? I promise.”

“You don’t have to,” you say, definitely wishing he did.

“I want to,” he says back.

When you go to place the plate before him, he pulls you down so that you can sit on his lap instead. After a little bit of squirming and whining about how he’s going to get your pyjama shorts dirty, you eventually settle down when he places his hand on your thigh and pats it affectionately. 

“You sure you want to stay here next month?” you mumble. Watching your bare feet dangle freely in the air now, you stroke him over the back of his head with an absent-minded look in your eyes. “I don’t want you to feel cooped up just because of me.”

“Yes, because I can’t take another month of seeing you be so worried about me,” he says sweetly, grabbing the fork that you’d placed on the table earlier.

Your expression turns blank. “Who said I was worried about you?”

He gives you a look that spells bullshit.

“…Oh fine, maybe I did worry just the tiniest bit,” you huff, pursing your lips. “But can you blame me? I mean, look at the shape you’re in whenever you come back!”

“Yeah, I look cool as fuck,” he mumbles before swallowing, already munching on the eggs. You just know he’ll wolf them down the second you get off his lap. “Like Bear Grylls.”

You blink, slowly. “Bear Grylls drank his own piss on live television.”

“I mean, if I-”

“No,” you cut in, sighing. “Whatever you were about to say just now, the answer is no.”

“Meh,” he says, taking another bite. “You’re no fun.”

You stare at his side profile, at the way his jaw works as he chews, at how the sun filters through the window that’s across the room and paints his tan skin golden. It’s not long before your hand is reaching out towards him, cupping his cheek so that you can press a warm kiss on his temple.

“Sucks to be you then, I guess,” you say, smiling cheekily. “Since you’re stuck with a lame mate and all that.”

“Nah, you’re cool as a mate,” he says, angling his head more into your touch on pure instinct. “You’re just a lame best friend. Still love ya, though!”

But despite the teasing remark that he’s just thrown your way, the truth is that Kiba loves you as his best friend just as much as he loves you as his mate. 

And judging by the little box that he’s hidden in the back of his closet recently, it seems like he’s going to love you as his wife very soon, too.

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Irresistible {3} || CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!reader Summary: What was once heaven turns to hell with the unexpected arrival of a new house guest. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, smut, cheating, kind of taboo (future stepbrother) WC: 4K F1 Masterlist || One || Two || Three || Four

It was late by the time Charles entered your room and slipped into the bed. You had retreated to your room after washing the dishes from dinner, silently passing each one to Charles to dry. When there was nothing left to tidy, he sighed and decided he couldn’t delay the call that was inevitable.

“Are you awake?” he asked quietly as he curled his body around yours.

“No.”

You felt his smile on your shoulder before he rolled you over to face him and brushed the hair back that fell over your face. “I think I made a mistake.”

It felt like a cruel joke but you had heard his raised voice through the walls, but the French had meant nothing to you. You were certain that after one argument he was cutting things off but you asked anyway, “Why’s that?”

“Because I don’t want to be in a relationship with her.” He pressed his forehead to yours and the breath you had been holding was released with a relieved sigh. “And she wants to come to the first races too now.”

You pulled back to see the pained look in his eyes and realised you had relaxed prematurely. “I thought you said she wouldn’t go to many.”

“She usually wouldn’t, but with the new race schedule it falls right into her school summer break.”

You huffed at the idea of having to share him and watch as she got to publicly flaunt him. Okay, maybe you were a little jealous - but it didn’t change anything because he could never be yours. “Does she suspect anything between us?”

“I am living with a beautiful woman that I am not related to, of course she is suspicious,” he stated with a nonchalant shrug. “But she won’t outright ask or she would have to give up on the idea that we are perfect for each other.”

Your fingers traced the shape of his beard that was due to be shaved again and your shoulders bounced with a quiet laugh. “Look at you, you have it all figured out.”

For a second his amusement faded away and vulnerability set in as he looked at your laced fingers resting on his chest. “You haven’t changed your mind about coming with me, have you?” His words were whispered like he was afraid of the answer.

“I don’t think I could if I wanted to,” you admitted seriously, before a teasing smirk lightened the atmosphere. “I think I would miss you too much, or a certain part of you.”

“Ah, of course,” he chuckled, grateful for the answer and a distraction, “you only want me for my dick.”

You ran your hand down his bare chest until it met the fabric of the grey sweatpants he wore and teased over his crotch. “I was thinking about your tongue but I would miss this too.”

“I feel used, really, I do,” he huffed but his cock began to stir beneath your palm despite the joking words. “I am just an object to you.”

“Yes, you are, but you are a pretty one,” you added with the sultry smile that always set his blood alight. “So are you going to let me use you?”

He grinned as he easily pulled you over his body to straddle his waist. “Always, ma biche.”

Lockdown: Week Sixteen

“Hey Daveed, sorry about the stairs,” you apologised as you ordered yet another heavy item online knowing there wasn’t an elevator in the building.

It was an odd world that you found yourself in. You knew the delivery driver by name now, but you still hadn’t seen the bottom half of his face beneath the mask.

“What have you brought now?” Charles asked from the couch as he sent a wave to Daveed.

“I’ll show you if you help me move it.”

Curious, he got up and gently moved you aside so he could pick it up himself, his biceps testing the tensile strength of his shirt sleeves. “Where am I putting it?”

You rushed around the couch and moved the coffee table that was covered with your puzzle magazines before pointing to the space made. “I’ll get the scissors.”

Charles watched his floor space change from hardwood boards to the fluffiest shag pile rug he had ever seen. Everywhere he looked there was evidence of a woman in his home and he had to admit he loved walking into each room and seeing it.

You starfished on the rug after unrolling it and sighed happily at how soft and fluffy it was beneath you. “Lay with me,” you ordered Charles when you opened your eyes to find you smiling down at you.

Dropping down beside you, he stared up at the ceiling and stretched out, sliding his arm under your head. He ran his fingers through the soft material before those same fingers ran down your sleeve and pulled you closer to kiss your temple. “It’s perfect.”

The doorbell buzzed and you both looked at each other wondering who it could be. There wasn’t anything else that had been ordered and it wasn’t as if anyone could just pop around for a visit with the lockdown still under enforcement. You were still frowning at each other when the bell rang again, followed by a shrill call that made Charles stiffen.

“It’s Charlotte.”

You sat up in an instant and all but ran down the hall to your room, quickly snatching Charles’ pillow and tossing it into his room with the other random pieces of clothes that littered your floor. The security chain scraped open before the deadlock was unbolted and you scanned his room to see if there was anything of yours there but luckily most activity had been kept to your space. You hadn’t wanted to sleep in the bed he shared with her, that was about your limit in your morally grey code of ethics.

“Uh, hey, what are you doing here?” Charles asked as he opened the door, his shoulders blocking your view from the hall.

“I thought you would be happier to see me after four months,” Charlotte murmured as she walked around him and into the apartment. She was perceptive of all the changes and was obviously not impressed by them as she set her suitcase down. “My travel exemption came through today.”

Charles frowned at the large luggage bag but recovered enough to kiss her when she leant in. Your exemption had been emailed to him a few days ago so everything was set to go to Austria in two weeks time but that didn’t help him understand why his girlfriend had arrived at his place with the bag. “Are you going somewhere?”

“I figured since I was allowed to travel I would stay here, with you, until we fly out. I can finish my assignment here and we can catch up on lost time.”

Your stomach knotted at the thought but she had put Charles in a position that made an argument almost impossible.

“I would love that, but isn't it a little insensitive to Y/N? I don’t want her feeling like a third wheel in her own home.”

“This isn’t her home.” Charlotte rolled her eyes and you took a step back behind the wall as she looked around for you. “You said she’s just a guest you can’t get rid of because your mum asked nicely.”

You swallowed down the angry words that clawed at your throat and had to watch as Charles wrapped her in his arms, to comfort her.

Your silent steps retreated back to your room and you closed the door before you could hear anything more. Collapsing on your bed feeling displaced, you could smell Charles’ cologne clinging to the sheets and resorted to stripping the bedding off. Not willing to risk being caught in any small talk, you mounded the pile of sheets and duvet covers in the corner of your room and pulled a pair of noise cancelling headphones over your ears.

You drifted in and out of sleep all afternoon, waking once to decline dinner, telling Charles that you weren’t hungry through the locked door, despite the loud growls coming from your stomach. When you woke again night had set in and it was dark outside your window. The growls had turned to cramps and you couldn’t ignore the need for food any longer.

Thankfully the apartment was silent when you emerged from your room and crept down the hall. You could walk the whole house blindfolded if you needed, you knew because it had been a game you played with Charles a few times out of boredom, but you turned a small lamp on in the living room. The soft glow was enough to see in the kitchen and you found a note on the fridge door.

You smiled at the thought of Charles saving a plate for you and grabbed it from inside the fridge. It smelt delicious as you warmed it up in the microwave but one mouthful had to dumping it in the bin. Though your back was to the hall you could feel his presence like the kiss of the sun on your skin and you placed the empty plate in the sink to wash it.

“You should be asleep.”

His steps were quiet across the floor before his hands found your waist and his lips brushed over your nape before he whispered, “Can’t sleep without you.”

You turned away from the sink to face him but whatever command you were thinking of to send him back to his girlfriend was lost when he kissed you. You could taste the apology on his tongue, feel the regret in his touch as his hand slipped beneath your shirt and danced along your spine.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know she was going to show up here.”

His forehead rested against yours and his eyes closed when he felt your hands come to rest on his neck, your fingers feeling his pulse race beneath them. The silence was heavy as he waited for you to say something but you weren’t going to dwell on what you couldn’t change.

“You should be apologising for the pasta, I nearly broke a tooth.”

Charles stepped back with a quiet laugh and combed his fingers through his hair. “You know I am not good at cooking.”

“That wasn’t cooking, it was uncooked,” you corrected him with a smile. “Are you hungry?”

He nodded, having missed your cooking and took a seat on the bench where he could watch you quickly bring a delicious meal together. He never understood how you could do that, how you could look at what was in the fridge and the pantry and create a dish in your head. When he looked all he saw were the individual ingredients but you saw the potential each piece had, it amazed him every time.

The minutes quickly passed and it was effortless to chat with whispered voices while you worked, a complete dichotomy from how his evening with Charlotte went. Conversation with her had felt forced, like he was talking to a stranger, and he had asked how the weather was twice just to fill the awkward silence.

He barely even heard your words, recounting a humorous camping trip with your father where he forgot nearly all of the food. But you had managed to survive for three days inventing new ways to eat sausages. You paused when Charles didn’t laugh at something he should have found funny but he was staring at your lips in a daze.

“Are you okay?” you asked with a wave in front of his face.

He snapped out of whatever trance he was in and you thought maybe he had been falling asleep standing up. You nearly jumped when he suddenly pulled you into his arms and buried his face in your neck. “I love you.” You could feel his smile on your skin before he kissed the column of your neck, whispering it over and over as he made his way to your lips. “I love you.”

Your palms met his chest and gently pushed him back as you wriggled from his hold.

“What?” he asked, suddenly nervous and self conscious.

“You’re just having this revelation now? At,” you checked the time on the oven, “1:11 in the morning while your girlfriend is asleep in your bed.”

“I mean, I’ve kind of known it since the day we met…” He scratched the back of his neck and shrugged apologetically. “I think I loved you the moment you called me a bad driver.”

You balled up your fist and punched him in the shoulder. “You could have told me sooner.”

His forehead crumpled in confusion as he rubbed his arm. “What? Why?”

Stepping back into his personal space, you rose on your toes so you could kiss the corner of his downturned lips. “Because I love you too.”

His smile could have lit up the whole city and it made the unexpected arrival of Charlotte a little easier to bear. It was almost romantic eating dinner with a single candle burning on the table, if it wasn’t for the knowledge that there was an unwanted house guest in the next room. You probably should have eaten in silence to make sure it went undisturbed, there was always more you wanted to know about each other. Sixteen weeks together brought a lot of insight into the other’s psyche but there was still over 20 years of history to learn.

“Did Peter teach you to cook?”

Your laugh was a little too loud in the dead of the night and you shook your head. “He can only cook a steak, and you don’t get a say in how you want it either - it’s always extra well done.” You took a sip of the wine Charles had poured and giggled at the thought of your father teaching you to cook. “There was this old woman who did the payroll at dad’s work and after mum left Betty helped step in for all the ‘girly’ stuff. Make-up, cooking, boys.”

The corner of Charles’ lips kicked up in a smirk as he sat back in his chair and sighed happily with a full stomach and contentment he had missed all evening. “I imagine you were already a natural when it came to boys.”

You mirrored his amusement and leaned your head on his shoulder when he draped his arm over the back of your chair. “Of course, one insult and I had them wrapped around my finger,” you joked.

“Worked with me.”

“But you’re weird.”

Footsteps padded down the hall and you sat up before Charlotte arrived wearing a shirt of Charles’. She froze as she found the cosy scene and the sleepy haze lifted from her face. “What is this?”

You smiled and reached for the bottle of wine to refill your glass. “I was hungry, sorry, didn’t mean to wake you. Would you like to join us?”

She looked at the clock and you were surprised to see it was almost 3am. Time always seemed to slip by unnoticed when you were with Charles, he was captivating that way.

“No, thank you,” she politely declined as she held a hand out to Charles. “We are going back to bed.”

Charles let her lead him from the room but he looked over his shoulder with a pout and mouthed ‘I love you’ before saying aloud, “sweet dreams.”

You smiled as you mouthed the words back and promised, “I will.”

That was the last stolen moment alone. Charlotte seemed to sleep lighter and followed Charles everywhere he went in the apartment. He couldn’t even stream alone in his office, her ever present shadow was there in the background to gate keep him from you. At night, their arguments would keep you awake and your French understanding grew to know nearly every swear word they used. 

You could see the misery in the dark bags beneath Charles' eyes each morning at breakfast. Though he no longer sat beside you, there was one perk to facing him with the table Charlotte used as a barrier between you. Warmth ran up your leg and you fought not to react to Charles’ touch, it wasn’t much but it was his quiet reassurance that everything would be okay.

Lockdown: Week Seventeen

You woke to a screech and rolled over to bury your head under your pillow. Unfortunately you weren’t able to block out her voice as it grew louder to the point she was yelling. Tossing your blankets back, you draped a robe around your shoulders and swept out of the room with a mission to find out why your sleep had been disturbed.

“Charles, can you please remind her what an inside voice is?” you asked quietly as you took a seat with him at his piano, watching the angry young woman pace around the living room.

“You live like a pig!” Charlotte growled as she picked up his dirty plate left on the coffee table. “And how hard is it to put the toilet seat down?”

You cast a side eye at Charles to see him struggling to hold a smirk in check. He was clearly enjoying himself but you were confused since he had always put the toilet seat down before, and cleaned up after himself.

“Why are there so many cushions in this place?” Her rant continued as she picked up the floral pieces you had scattered across the couch to bring colour to the room.

“I like cushions,” you answered her rhetorical question, drawing her attention to your presence.

“I know exactly what you like,” she sneered as her eyes darted to Charles before she stormed out of the room, dropping the plate in the kitchen sink as she passed.

“Where are you going?” Charles asked as he made to follow, sending a kiss your way.

“Home!”

You dropped onto the couch, enjoying the way your body sunk into the soft cushions, and listened to the rant continue while Charlotte packed her suitcase. You had to bite one pillow when Charles made a weak attempt to change her mind but then she was wheeling her luggage out the door.

Unfortunately her departing words left you little hope as she promised, “I’ll meet you at the airport.”

The door closed behind her and Charles leaned his back against it with a sigh. You cocked a brow at him before he slid the deadbolt home and all but jumped over the back of the couch, pinning you under his body.

“Finally, I have you all to myself,” he hummed happily against your lips but you tugged his hair back so he could see the confusion on your face. “What? I missed you.”

“You planned all that?”

He shrugged and dipped his head to capture your lips that left you needing more of his kisses and less of his clothes. “I was hoping she was going to break up with me, but I’ll keep working on that. PR can’t be mad at me if it’s her choice.”

You combed your fingers through his hair, feeling the soft strands that were in need of a trim again. “But what happens next? They’ll just set you up with another woman that fits their image for you.”

He shook his head adamantly and pressed his forehead to yours. “I’m done with that. I’ll tell them I need to focus on my career or something to get them off my back. There’s only one woman I want, Bambi.”

You tried not to let his promise affect you but the butterflies in your stomach turned to a burn across your cheeks and you buried your face in his neck. His deep laugh reverberated from his chest as he kissed your temple and started to climb off you.

“Hey, where do you think you are going?” you asked as his weight was lifted from you.

“I was going to bed,” he said with a smirk as he started to walk towards the hall. “Coming, ma biche?”

The cushions went flying as you scrambled to your feet and raced after him. It felt as if the universe had righted itself when you closed your door behind you and found Charles stretched across your bed. For a moment you just leaned back and enjoyed the view that you had missed, but only for a moment - you had better ideas on how to spend your time. 

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” you pointed out.

“Why don’t you come and change that?” he challenged with a smirk. Making himself comfortable, he tucked his hands behind his head but the movement tugged the bottom of his shirt up to tease you with the deep V lines you wanted to run your tongue along.

“With pleasure.” You untied your robe and let the material fall to the floor before you stalked him down and reached for his sweatpants. You dragged the soft cloth down and he lifted his hips to make it easier, not that it would have stopped you.

You dipped your head down, grazing your teeth over his hip bone and goosebumps prickled across his skin. His breath caught in his chest as the tingling feeling spread over his body and he chuckled at the sight of it. It was a reaction he had never had with anyone else, there was no one else who could possibly elicit such a feeling with just one touch. 

“Fuck,” he shuddered breathlessly when you lashed your tongue along one V line. He could feel your breath warm on his cock before it cooled as you climbed higher and he groaned at the smirk on your lips. You were playing with him. 

“Be patient,” you warned as you grabbed his shirt and tugged it up his chest. 

“It’s been 9 days, Bambi,” he gasped when you nipped his nipple before easing the sharp pain with your tongue.

“Exactly.” You peeked up his body from under your lashes and enjoyed the strained look on his face, his brows pinched together and his hands in fists behind his head. He was struggling not to take control and bury himself in you. “I have to make up for lost time.”

You pushed him to his limit as you nipped and sucked your way across his body from his neck to his thighs. “Please, ma biche,” he finally whined as his hard cock pulsed with the need to feel your wet warmth. 

“Since you asked so nicely…” You sealed your lips around the swollen tip and hummed in delight at the taste of him. There wasn’t a word that could describe it but it was an aphrodisiac of the highest strength. Need grew to a throb between your legs and your eyes fluttered shut as you clenched your thighs together. 

A deep groan had your eyes opening and you found a wild look in Charles’ before he reached for your arms. You let him guide you up his body thinking he was going to spear you down on his cock but he shuffled down the bed and positioned you over his face. “My turn, mon amour.” 

Your fingers clutched at the headboard as his tongue expertly found all the spots that made you see stars. Like you, he hadn’t forgotten how to drive you wild in the long days since Charlotte’s arrival. 

“Please, Charles,” you begged as he teased around your clit, keeping you dancing on the precipice of oblivion. He teased and he teased until a growl of frustration tore from you lips and you combed your fingers into his hair so you could grind your hips over his face, taking what you needed from him. 

Satisfied and smiling, you were flipped onto your back and Charles chuckled as he kissed his way up your body. “That was rude.”

“You love it,” you fired back with an equally daring smirk that fell away when your lips parted with a soft gasp as he thrust his hips forward and buried himself inside you.

“Fuck, I do,” he agreed with a moan. His breath heated your neck as he kissed your racing pulse, caressing your skin with his lips until he reached yours. “I love you.”

Click here for the next part.

[a-mint-bear]

Your One and Only

Male Yandere x Reader

He begged you to make him yours, but when he feels his status as your one and only is threatened, he wants a reminder.

Sequel to "Make Me Yours"

Next Jacob story "Taking Care of Him"

[content warning: slightly pretty suggestive stuff near the end]

His name was Jacob.

It was a bit of a funny situation, learning his name only after he'd become your... boyfriend? Lover? You really didn't know what labels to use in this situation, or how any of this was "supposed" to work. But you were enjoying your time together, despite the... odd and intense way the relationship began.

Jacob wanted to move in with you pretty much right off the bat, but it was all a bit too much to jump right into. You would be lying if you said it wasn't tempting...

He really was a near-perfect fit for you.

He was super domestic. He loved cooking for you and all his dishes were amazing. He was a bit of a neat freak, so sometimes when you took your eyes off him, he tidied up your place without you asking. Not that you left it super messy, but he seemed like perfect househusband material.

In public, he was super assertive. He stood up for you and protected you from average jerks and actual threats when you were out together. He took charge and it made you feel oddly loved. Like you were the most important thing in his life.

In private, he was still that man on his knees in the park. He was dedicated, completely and utterly yours... He loved to wear that collar when the two of you were alone, although you had to beg him not to wear it out in public. The thought of it did give you a thrill, though you'd never admit it to him. But because of all that, he started wearing more thick turtleneck sweaters.

Well, for that, and for... other reasons. You were embarrassed of how much he liked to show off your... handiwork.

He was very clingy, and he got jealous really easily, but it wasn't really a dealbreaker for you. You liked the feeling it gave you of being wanted, appreciated, even loved. It made you a tiny bit uncomfortable sometimes due to how new the relationship was, Jacob was very intense with his feelings, but with every day together it got easier to appreciate the weird new relationship you were in.

He was attentive, he loved spoiling you and getting you little things when you were having a bad day. Or a good day. Even a completely neutral day. You actually had to tell him to tone it down a little, as much as you liked it, because your place was small and you didn't have a ton of extra space. His compromise was to start getting you food and snacks more often instead, and it worked out just perfectly.

When a bouquet of a dozen roses got delivered to your office, you got a good razzing from your coworkers but you ignored them. There was no note or card, but it wasn't a stretch to think it was from Jacob. He'd sent other things to your job before, like lunch when you planned to eat out someplace or your favorite coffee order when you had an early morning. It was nice of him, you thought to yourself with a dumb smile on your face.

When you got home, you sent him a quick text.

You watched the typing ellipses appear and disappear, then reappear only to blink out of existence and then, nothing.

He'd never dropped off like that before, but you didn't think much of it. It wasn't until he showed up to your place not even ten minutes later that you started to wonder if something was up.

You opened the door for him. It wasn't uncommon for him to come over pretty much every other day (after you'd talked him down from every day) so you were happy to see him. But he had a weird look on his face.

Before you could ask him what was up, you followed his line of sight to the bouquet in a vase on the kitchen windowsill.

You ask him what's wrong, and his eyes snapped back to yours, like he was jolted out of his thoughts.

"Nothing, I... I'm just happy that you... like them."

The smile seemed a tiny bit strained, but he was back to his usual puppy dog demeanor in no time. He was extra attentive, ordering your favorite takeout, but getting it delivered instead of running out to get it or letting you go get it. He clung to you all night, but it was nice, in a way.

You were rinsing the dishes real quick before you continued binging the series you'd been watching together lately. But when you were drying your hands, Jacob came up behind you and wrapped his arms around you, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

You laughed, asking him if he was feeling better, but he just pulled you in closer. You could feel his collar pressing into your neck. His breath was hot, tickling your neck as he mumbled his words of devotion against your skin.

"You're so... perfect." He nuzzled into your neck. "I'm so lucky you let me in... that you let me be yours. Just... I promise I'll be good... I just want to be yours. Please, don't... Don't look at anyone else."

This wasn't his usual lovesick talk. You turned in his grasp to hold his face in your hands. You smiled, telling him that he was yours. He melted, leaning into your touch like he needed it more than everything... Needed you more than anything.

"I'm yours... " he repeated it to himself like a mantra, like it was grounding him to that moment. He needed the reassurance that day, for some reason, but you didn't think much of it.

That same excitement, that overwhelming need to control him, to claim him... it was still just as intoxicating as the day he "proposed". You don't think you could ever get tired of it.

. . .

Jacob had stayed the night, and you'd fallen asleep in his arms. You don't know how long you'd been lying there together before you could just feel that you were half-awake, but too tired to even open your eyes. You just nuzzled into his chest as you tried to drift off again.

You could feel him gently working his fingers into your hair, it felt like heaven, and it got a happy little sigh out of you.

"I've wanted this for so long..." he whispered into the calm of your dark bedroom. He must've thought you were sound asleep. "If someone thinks they can take you away from me..."

He kissed the top of your head, lingering for a moment to breathe you in.

"...I'll rip their fucking throat out."

You felt... startled? Confused? But it all felt so fuzzy, like the edge of a dream you could barely hold on to. He said it so calmly, like it was just another sweet nothing whispered in your ear. A promise to you he would make sure to keep.

You slipped back into a dreamless sleep, unsure of what was real.

. . .

Jacob made the two of you breakfast, just like every time he stayed the night. But the whole time you ate he was unusually quiet, his gaze flicking over to the vase of roses on the kitchen windowsill.

You could tell this was getting to him, for some reason. Maybe it was best to just get rid of the bouquet and ask him what he was so worked up about.

When he was washing the dishes, you went to get up from your chair and grab them, wanting to at least put them in another room while the two of you had a talk. But you didn't get the chance.

His hand shot out and grabbed your wrist, but he wasn't looking at you. He was staring at the flowers with a burning hate you'd never seen a man have for a plant. His grip got tighter until you hissed behind your teeth, trying to wrench your arm away.

He snapped out of whatever the hell that was, fussing over you.

"Sorry! I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to- I-I just..."

This was getting weird and more than a little... off. You told him it was getting late into the morning, didn't he need to get to work soon?

That sent him spiraling.

"No no no... please don't send me away..." he whispered. Before you could ask him what was wrong, he grabbed your shoulders.

"I'm sorry... I'm still your good boy! Please!" His eyes were wide, almost teary as fell to his knees at your feet, his hands in yours. "Please just... look at me! Only me! I can't..."

You asked him what he was talking about, trying to calm him down. It wasn't working.

"You thought those were from me..." He was practically shaking now, but he almost seemed... angry? You blanked for a second at his words, the meaning behind them not sticking long enough to upset him further. "I mean, roses? Really?? You think I don't know your favorite flower? That I'd give you that garbage?? No, no... I know you so much better than that."

It was true that there were flowers you liked more than roses, but you didn't hate them. But if Jacob didn't send you the flowers, who did?

"Someone wants you... they wanna take you away from me... I just got to be yours! I can't... I can't-"

With a shaky sigh, barely holding himself together, he laid his head on your legs.

"I can't lose you... Don't throw me away..."

Nudging your knees apart, he planted soft, tender kisses trailing up your inner thigh. The drastic swing of competing emotions left you more than a little flustered. A hand on top of his head, you were trying to decide whether to push him off to talk this through or tell him to keep going.

"They can't make you feel good, not like I can... I want to show you my love... my devotion..."

Without warning, you felt the dull, throbbing sting of a bite. You yelped, grabbing him by his hair and yanking him back. But all that did was wind him up more, a strangled, needy moan tearing from his throat. His face was a blushing mess, tongue out playfully like his mind was all but fading.

"Hurt me, p-punish me..." he grinned, looking straight into your eyes. "Make me forget everything else but you..."

You yanked him up by his collar and pushed him to the floor, straddling him. The ideas of wanting to fluster him and wanting to get back at him for his little stunt clashing away in your head. You chose good compromise of biting him back, marking up his shoulder as he gasped, letting out excited little "yes"s under his breath.

"Y-yes, fuck yes... mark me up..." He was practically panting now, he was so worked up you could swear you could hear his heartbeat, or maybe it was yours. He tried to sit up, to get closer. "Show everyone I belong to you..."

You shoved him back flat to the floor again, holding him in place with a hand pressed to his chest. The both of you knew he was strong enough to get free with no problem, but he knew that if he did, you'd stop. You kissed him just under his jawline, so tantalizingly close, you knew it was torture for him.

"Please please please..." he whined, sounding so wonderfully needy and desperate. "Kiss me. I'm your good boy. Make me need you so much I can't think straight."

You told him that he wasn't off the hook yet, and he couldn't help but feel so wanted, so loved. He really was yours, and you could do anything you wanted to him.

"Teach me I belong to you, sweetheart." he bit his lip, pushing his luck and grinding his hips up into you. "Fucking ruin me..."

. . .

Jacob clocked into work late that day, but he was more than happy to join his virtual meeting with a shirt cut lower than his usual turtlenecks, showing off his new marks to the coworkers. He pretended he didn't realize any of them were visible. He wanted them to see. What was the point of you marking him up if he couldn't show it off from time to time? Just enough to chase off anyone dumb enough to think about trying to flirt with him.

He still didn't know who'd sent you those goddamn roses, but he had calmed down, for now. He didn't want to do anything to make you hate him. Whoever it was, they were safe for another day.

-----------------------------------------------

i hope y'all like this one, i don't think i'll be bold enough to post anything more graphic than that anytime soon, lol

Jacob is his name, being your good boy is his favorite game 🩵

im in the (very slow) process of moving so my brain has been fried between packing, apartment hunting and a few days of video games until 3 am to help pass the time. i have one speed for hobbies lol

can you tell that my adhd meds are out of stock? now im writing to pass the time and it feels a lot more productive than Fallout 4 into the wee hours

i think i will post a poll soon so yous guys can vote for the next story i write. but my inbox is always open for suggestions too. tho you should see the notes in my phone, its like 11 different ideas lol

[tkingfisher]

So I write all sorts of things (fiction, fanfic, screenplays) and my mind is cluttered garden of flowers and weeds and shiny ideas, and I'm wondering how to form a writing practice to clear it into tidy rows? Is it possible to shepherd untamed ideas into order?

How do you manage all your wonderful worlds, characters and inspiration and not feel haunted by the story bits and pieces in your head? Any practical tips beyond dark magic?

Thank you, you are such a constant inspiration for me, both prose and just your presence. <3

*laugh* Oh god, Nonny, if I ever find out, I’ll tell you! When you read books, you’re getting the Instagram-filtered view of a writer’s brain, all the flowers that grew out of the compost heap, carefully composed and shot in optimal lighting. The real inside of my skull is a magpie nest of Neat Shit I Read/Saw/Thought Up While Lying Awake At 2 AM. There are characters and ideas in there that I’ve been trying to get into a manuscript since I was twelve and typing on an Amiga 500.

But, that said…really, I think it’s okay. Creativity is inherently untidy. The compost heap can be corralled into a very pretty box made of sustainably harvested materials, hand-stained by traditional artisans being paid a living wage by an employee-owned company, but as soon as you lift the lid, it’s all worms and coffee grounds and old potting soil and cow shit and the vegetables you swore you were gonna eat this time before they went bad. That’s what compost is.

Nevertheless, having been in the business for…uh…fifteen years now? (@dduane is snickering at me, I can feel it) and having written nearly forty books, I can offer three bits of something less than advice. It’s what I do. It may not work for anyone else, but it’s what I do.

Un-Advice The First: If you get a shiny idea and you are super excited by it? Go ahead and chase it. Pull up a new page in Word or whatever and slap down a couple thousand words while it’s exciting. I know that this absolutely flies in the face of common wisdom, but quite frankly, my enthusiasm is a much rarer commodity than my time, so if I’m excited about something, I write it down until I’ve taken the edge off.

Then I usually save it into a big folder called “Fragments” and go back to work on whatever I’ve got a deadline on. (Usually. Sometimes the edge doesn’t wear off, and I wind up with another book. Which, y’know, darn.)

There are vast numbers of people who will tell you that a shiny idea is a sign that something is wrong with your current project and the solution is to knuckle down and work! through! it! And those people are probably right for them, and I trust they know how their own brains work. Me, though, I got ADHD like a bat has wings. My hard drive is a vast swamp of story beginnings, neat ideas, random scenes. And that’s okay because I still get books finished.

In fact, it’s better than okay. Not that long ago, my agent sent a novella to a publisher and they said “We’ll take that novella and three more novels. What’ve you got?” And I ended up plundering my hard drive and sending the editor a good dozen random beginnings until we found one that we both liked, and then I wrote the rest of that book. And then another one. If I hadn’t had all those fragments lying around, though, it would have been a miserable experience of writing book pitches and trying to think of stuff I could get excited about. (This may not be how some editors work, but it’s how my editor and I work, anyhow.)

Un-Advice The Second: Trust that everything will find a home eventually.

This one is easy to say and hard to do because sometimes you get that overload that if you’re writing the book about, say, werebear nuns, you aren’t writing the one about the alien crustaceans. Or worse, you feel guilty. If you don’t use that one cool thing, was all that time you spent on it wasted?

Breathe. Be easy. Every single cool thing does not need to go into a single book. There is no sell-by date on the neat character. You will probably write many books in your life and all those random characters will find a home. (Seriously, the werebear nuns were lurking for like a decade.)

For me, at least, when I find the spot where something fits, it often snaps into place like a Lego. Easton’s backstory as a soldier from a society where soldiers were a third sex had been kicking around in my head for a few years, derived from about three different sources, and then I wrote the opening to What Moves The Dead and all of a sudden Easton was there and alive and they had strong opinions about everything and I had ten thousand words practically before I turned around.

You can also stave off guilt by writing some of your ideas in as highly personal Easter Eggs. A couple of my books have references to a white deer woman, a heroic deed done by a saint and the ghost of a bird, and a woman with dozens of hummingbirds on tiny jeweled leashes. Those are all characters and stories I’ve had vague notions about, but haven’t managed to work in anywhere or learn much more about. Still, the passing reference is enough to make me feel like I haven’t abandoned them.

(The advantage to this is that once you DO write those in, the readers are all “oh my god, she foreshadowed this a decade ago, she must have planned this all out in advance!” Then you look really clever and well-organized and no one has to know that you have no idea what you’re doing.)

Un-Advice The Third: Write the kitchen sink book.

At one point, I had so many stray ideas that hadn’t gotten into a book yet—the tree of frogs, the dog-soldiers, the stained glass saint, the albatross and the shadow of the sun, and also I wanted to write something with Baba Yaga—that I hauled off and wrote a book where I just put in everything and the kitchen sink. It’s called Summer in Orcus. There are bits in there that I had been cooking in the mental compost heap for decades, but that weren’t enough on their own to sustain a whole book. The phrase “antelope women are not to be trusted” showed up in my head some time in college. It’s a fun little book and I’m proud of it, but it’s very much a patchwork quilt of weirdness. But it’s also written so that if later on, an antelope woman shows up in another book in another context, that just adds to their mythology, it doesn’t break canon or whatever.

(Pretty sure I’m not the only one who has done this, either. China Mieville has said that he wrote Perdido Street Station because what he really enjoyed was writing all the weird monsters.)

So yeah, that’s my advice, for what it’s worth. Some days I just tell all the fragments and ideas that I promise that I’ll get them a home eventually but I need to write this thing here now. Sometimes I throw down enough words to get the story stabilized and then I’m okay to move on. Sometimes I write multiple books simultaneously.

Any method you use to write the book, so long as it doesn’t hurt you or anyone else, is a perfectly valid method. If anyone tells you different, you send them to me.

(…god, I hope that was the question you were actually asking, Nonny, and that I didn’t go off on a completely different tangent when you just wanted to know how I keep track of a plot or something.)

[itsnevercasual]

Uptown Girl

pairing: fashion designer!harry x younger!fashion designer!reader

summary: you’re working in a designer boutique, and just so happen to have a late entrance when world-renowned designer harry styles visits for a collaboration. he seems to take a liking to you, and you aren’t sure if that makes you relieved or more anxious

warnings: some cursing, not edited as usual

-

harry styles was a well-known name. ceo and founder of pleasing, a nail polish and perfume company. he also owned many other companies, but really, there were too many to keep track of. he was also, most importantly, one of the biggest fashion icons.

you were very familiar with him— had saved up every penny when you were younger to buy a pleasing perfume and now owned a very small collection of their nail polishes.

so, of course, you lost your shit when you found out he’d be coming into your job.

you were a fashion design major at nyu, and had gotten a job at a very esteemed designer (not one of the name brands, but still). although you did expect the job to have more opportunities to.. actually design fashion, you were still grateful nonetheless.

it was just your luck that the day that harry styles was coming in, you were late. it wasn’t your fault! really, it wasn’t! you were always on time because you got anxious at the mere thought of being late.

by the time you parked, you practically ran to the store, silently praying you wouldn’t break a leg as you were running in heels.

“i’m not late am i?” you ask breathlessly as you finally enter the store, fixing your hair and outfit.

you had curled your hair the night before, so they were still pretty much intact. your outfit consisted of black heels, brown dress pants, and a black, tight-fitting turtleneck.

“yes, y/n. you are late,” your boss gave you a look, and you knew you’d be in trouble. “mr. styles, i am so sorry. our employs are.. usually punctual.”

your head snaps over to look in the direction she was talking, and your heart drops when you make eye contact with harry styles.

great.

“mr. styles, i am so sorry,” you apologize.

“it’s perfectly alright,” he gives a kind smile.

that makes you feel a bit better.

“y/n, a word in my office please.”

you deflate as you look back to your boss and follow her to her office

the second the door is closed, she’s chewing you out.

“how unprofessional can you be? i know you are in college, but jesus christ!”

“i’m sorry! there was so much traffic, and my car is so old it stops working if i go faster than 50, and—“

“i don’t need excuses,” she cuts you off. “i need you to be more professional.”

you inhale, “i am sorry, but it was not my fault. i have never once been late before, and you know that. it was a one-time mistake.”

“it better be.”

she walks out and slams the door to the office, leaving you alone in there.

you look up to the ceiling as you bite your lip and try not to cry.

after taking a few minutes to collect yourself, you walk back out into the otherwise empty store and slap a smile on your face.

you do your usual tasks of tidying the store and fixing the mannequins.

mr. styles, his team, and your boss (her name was diane but she was more like satan) were all working on sketching designs and throwing some fabrics onto the mannequins to get a rough idea of what they wanted.

“i don’t know if i like it,” mr. styles murmurs, staring at the mannequin. you glace over at it and have to force yourself to not make a face.

no shit, he didn’t like it. it was bad.

the sketch was good, but the color combination was all wrong and the whole thing was too.. chunky. in the way that everything was flowy and baggy, so it had no shape.

“well, what do you not like about it?” diane asks.

“i’m not sure. it doesn’t look quite right.”

“you have to fix the shape,” you say to yourself as you fix the files of custom orders to be done.

“what was that?”

your head snaps up, and you realize he heard you.

“oh. uh.. i was just—“

“talking to herself,” diane interrupts, glaring at you. “she’s an intern. don’t mind her.”

“no, i’d like to hear what she has to say. might have the answer to our issue. let’s hear it— what was your name again?”

“y/n l/n,” you squeak out.

“well, y/n, what do you think is wrong?”

you hesitantly walk over, “well.. i can see the idea. but it’s just not.. executed well. the whole thing is too flowy.”

“isn’t the point for it to flow?” he asks, raising a brow.”

“it is,” you answer quickly, “but.. there has to be something that isn’t as.. baggy, i suppose. something has to be tight-fitting. it doesn’t have any shape. it just kinda.. looks like a box.”

he stares at you for a moment, and diane clears her throat.

“y/n, this is time for the professionals. get back to—“

“no, diane. she is.. she’s right. it does need shape.”

at his words, the people around him begin to pin it differently.

“and the colors,” you rush out. “the colors don’t.. it’s supposed to be a statement piece, right?”

“that’s the goal,” he nods.

“well.. the colors are too.. light. they’re more pastel, which is fine, but for it to really be a statement, it’s better to use brighter ones. or at least make one of them brighter. i would.. i think make the base the brighter one.”

diane looks ready to kill you.

mr. styles laughs, “well, don’t you know a lot? diane, where did you find her? wish my interns knew half as much as her.”

your face grows hot.

“she’s a student,” diane sighs.

“a student?” he asks.

“i… uh.. i study fashion at nyu. fashion design— i’m in my last year.”

he seems to sense that you're damn near about to shit your pants, because he grins at you (slightly patronizing, but also kind), before turning back to diane.

"i'd like her to be with me for the rest of the project. y/n, darling, how much are y'makin' here?"

your stutter, "uh--... $15 an hour."

he tuts his tongue like that's horrible, "i'll pay.. ten times that while y'workin' with me."

your eyes widen, "wh-- that's not-- you don't have to--"

"nonsense. it's what most people i work with start with. i'll up it if needed, of course. and you obviously don't have to, but i'd love your insight."

"i-- no, i-- i'd love to, i.."

"great," he grins, and you're extremely dizzy. what the hell was going on?

"uh.. mr. styles, if i may give my opinion," diane pipes up.

"you may," he eyes her skeptically.

"y/n is a student. she's still learning, and she's never worked on anything here. it's very risky to--"

he cuts her off by asking you a question, "have you designed things? sketched 'em out and all that?"

you nod.

"i'd hope you've also done the whole... actually sewing things together and really making them?"

you nod again.

he turns back to diane, "seems like she's got experience," he looks back to you, "do y'have photos of any of those?"

"yeah-- they're.. i think i left them in my car. i have photos on my phone."

"we'll meet later to look at all that, then. i'll give you my number later. for now.. i'd like your input on our other ideas."

-

for the rest of the day, you follow harry around, and you sort of feel like a lost puppy just following him around and answering when he asks something of you.

after a while, you got more comfortable giving your input without being prompted, but you always tiptoed around what you were really trying to get at in fear that you'd anger him.

at the end of day, he put your number in his phone with the promise that he'd text you later about more details.

-

the text came three days later.

From: (Maybe): Harry

Hello, Y/N. This is Harry. Would you be free to meet tomorrow at noon to discuss the details of the project? Please bring your sketches and any photos of designs you've done, and anything else you feel necessary.

To: Harry Styles

Hi! I should be free tomorrow, yeah. Where do you want to go?

From: Harry Styles

I'll let you decide.

To: Harry Styles

There is this one coffee shop named Maman?

Sent Location: 239 Centre St, New York, NY

From: Harry Styles

Alright. I'll see you tomorrow, Y/N. Have a nice rest of your day.

To: Harry Styles

You too!

-

you spend the rest of your night fretting about what to wear. you were stuck in between classy but not too fancy, but also not too casual. comfy, but not so comfy that you looked like you didn't give a shit. but also not so uncomfortable that you were, well, uncomfortable, and looked like you were trying too hard.

you'd eventually settled for something simple. long, light-wash denim skirt, a plain black top, and some mary janes. you tied some of your hair back with a white ribbon, did some natural makeup, and called it a day.

you got to the coffee shop at 11:45 and ordered your drink, as well as a chocolate croissant.

harry walked in at exactly 12:00, and grinned when he saw you sitting at a table, scrolling on your phone with a manilla folder and sketchbook beside you.

-

really, you can't blame him! you were pretty, he'd have to be blind to not know that. and really, you weren't that much younger than him.

he's 29, and you're 23. he's not a stalker, he just did a background check like any good business person would do.

so what he finds you cute? the relationship would be strictly professional. besides, you deserved a break from your horrible boss. contrary to what diane thought, the walls were not soundproof, and he could hear her chewing you out.

sure, he'd done that to one of his employees once or twice, but it was always deserved, and never on the first time of being late. that was ridiculous.

"good morning, y/n," he greets. your head snaps up to make eye contact and he has to force himself to not laugh. he wasn't laughing at you, per se. it was more so the fact that he found it amusing how jumpy you seemed around him.

"good morning. did you order?"

"not yet. never been here, so i've got no clue what's good."

you open your mouth to respond, but the barista calls out, "large iced honey lavender latte with a pain au chocolat for y/n!"

you give a sheepish smile and run up to retrieve your food and drink. when you come back, you take a sip of your drink and set what looks to be a chocolate croissant down on the table.

"well, i'm more of an iced coffee girl. and i also don't really like the taste of coffee, so i've got a bunch of sugar in mine. what do you usually drink?"

"'m more of a black coffee, to be honest. iced is fine, but hot's better."

you wrinkle your nose, "i don't know how you stand the taste of coffee. it's so bitter."

"better than what you've got!" he laughs, "might as well just down a sugar packet."

you giggle at his teasing, "only psychos drink plain black coffee. this," you hold up your drink, "is so much better."

"oh, is it now?"

"yes, it is," you cross your arms proudly.

"lemme have a taste."

you hand over the drink, and he takes a small sip before coughing, "christ, y/n! that cannot be good for your health!"

"hey, i'm still alive, aren't i?" you shrug.

“that you are.”

“well… just ask for an americano, i guess. the rest of their drinks are kinda sugary and fun.”

he got his drink, and once the both of you were sat down, he got to business.

“so, how long have you been designing?”

“i’ve been doing it since middle school. i.. uh.. i saw that one american girl doll movie. where she was a designer. and i just got obsessed. obviously they weren’t good, but…”

“so you’ve got a lot of experience then?”

you nod. he grins.

“may i see the sketches?”

you grab the folder off the top of the sketchbook and pass it over to him.

he flips through it in silence for a few minutes, and you anxiously nibble at the skin around your fingernails.

“..so?” you ask.

“they’re great. really, you’ve got talent. i can’t draw for shit, so you’ve got me beat,” he laughs.

you laugh with him, “most of those are just ideas, i’ve never made them. but i have photos of the ones i have made. i printed them so it’s easier.”

you pass over the manilla folder, and he opens it to look at all the photos you’d printed out. there was around fifty— those were just the ones you actually liked and were confident showing.

he holds one up, and your cheeks flush. “why’s this the only one where you’re the model?” he asks.

“that was.. uh.. that’s my senior prom dress.”

his eyes widen, giving you an impressed look, “you made your own prom dress?”

you nod, “i just wanted something very specific, so.. i figured i’d just make it myself.”

“y’look great— the dress looks great,” he coughs. “you’re very talented.”

“thank you,” you blush.

“so tell me why someone as talented as you is working in diane’s shop not designing a single thing?”

“i didn’t realize that was the job. i just got excited when my professor told me they were interested in my work, so i took the job. i thought i’d at least do a little designing, but.. it pays.. decent, though.”

he scoffs, “darling, 15 bucks an hour is not decent pay. that’s what you make being a hostess. you’re an artist. someone would pay thousands of dollars for just your sketches.”

“i don’t think i’m that good—“

“you are,” he’s firm. resolute. there is no room for argument with him. “i think you’ll be a great asset to the project. i could use your… talent. i’ll send you an email with the nitty gritty details. i’ll see you soon, y/n.”

and with that, he stands and leaves, leaving you to sit there, dumbfounded, confused, and grinning.

-

a/n: guys i have too many series going on 😭😭

[polyestercleaner]

Slow Touch⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚

|Summary:You go out on a "date" with Joost thinking it would be an average date, little did you know it would be more than just average.

|Content Warning⚠️: Smut, Fingering, joost being a gentle dom

You open your eyes to the sun grazing you, you groan in exhaustion as you slowly adjust to the lighting in your room, you slowly turn your head to the side, the clock reads out, 10AM, how early, this isn't when you usually get up, but you accept your fate for today, you get up and walk towards the bathroom, the reflection is merely you, your hair is a completely Bush of sticks, your eyes are puffy and tired, "what the fuck." You sigh to yourself before heading back to your room, you sit down on your bed as you plan to go back to sleeping, but that thought flies away once you hear the noise of your phone buzzing, your eyes open wide as you grab your phone quickly, it's a text from... Joost! He's a close friend, you've known him for over a year now, and as much as you lied to yourself, you knew you liked him and you knew there was something going on between you two. You quickly tap on his text.

Heya! Just wanted to ask if you wanna come with to the Cafe! You and me, my treat. You decide!(｡•̀ᴗ-)✧ ps:if it's a yes meet me at 11:30

You shudder in excitement, you wanted this for so long now. He was BASICALLY asking for a date! You held your phone so tightly and your hands you were sure you're gonna break it, you smiled to yourself as you thought of what to say.

You and me? Sure! I'll be there, just don't be late,also could you get a pack of cigarettes? I ran out of 'em, thanks!(ゝз╹)

You put your phone down as you ran to your closet, pulling out a white dress and black heels, you quickly got dressed and brushed your hair enough to make it look tidy and neat, you pulled your purse and closed the door, you checked the time and it was already 11:20, "fuck I'm gonna be late!" You grumbled as you ran towards the Cafe, it was a 10 minute walk and yet with these heels your attempts at running were completely useless, you reached the Cafe gasping for air, you caught a glimpse of joost sitting at the Cafe, earphones intact and phone in hand, you walked towards him as you hugged him, "hey!" He let out, each hug you've ever given him or he's ever given you made your heart thump fast, always. You sat down infront of him as he gazed at your body, "well aren't you all dolled up and pretty huh?" You giggled to yourself as you put down your purse next to you, the waiter made his way towards your table, you quickly looked up at him as he asked you what you'd like, you smiled and asked for a strawberry smoothie and pancakes with blueberries, as you ordered for your food you could feel joost's eyes burning into you, watching every movement as your eyes slowly fluttered and as your finger moved each time you wanted to add something to what you wanted to order, you looked hot. And he had to admit that to himself, he was knocked out of his thoughts once the waiter asked for his turn of food.

"Dont be late huh?" You groaned, "it was the heels fault okay!" He laughed out, you'd always warn him about punctuality when you can't even stick to what you say most of the time, it was always funny, time goes by, 20 minutes, simply you two eating and laughing and chatting, what could be better than this? "Do you wanna go to the park next to this Cafe?" You smiled, he nodded in response, "hell yeah!" You both got up, joost places the money down, "oh come on! Thanks that's really sweet" he shrugs in response, a smile plastered on his face "i told you it's my treat didn't I? Ja?" You walk away together, making your way to the park, sitting down at an empty bench, the trees were absolutely gorgeous, a beautiful mix of green all around, you felt so tense for so long that for once you felt good. With him.

Joost pulls out a cigarette, lighting it up and taking a drag, you sit in silence for a moment, the sounds of birds chirping filling your ears, "you know your really pretty." You continue starring forward, you didn't wanna believe you just said that, you mentally slap yourself, joost tips his head to the side before turning to look at you, taking a drag from his cigarette "oh ja? Is that so?" He smirks at you, you don't stare back though, you nod, "yeah". "Well nothing could be as beautiful as you. Alright?" You can see the smoke coming out of his mouth as he talks, he's gorgeous truly, "can I?" You turn your head to meet his gaze, gesturing to the cigarette, "ja" you take the cigarette into your fingers before taking a drag, you coughed a little, smoking wasn't something you always did. You felt a wet droplet on your forehead, "Huh?"

Joost looks at you, the droplets multiplying, it was clear that it was "raining, it's raining" he chuckled, "we better get going huh?" You quickly got up,"fuck! It's getting worse! We better run!" He quickly pulls your hand before guiding you out of the park, you both giggle as the rain becomes more intense, the sound of thunder waving through the city, "mine or yours!" He practically yells at you, "Yours!" You quickly make your way to joosts house as he opens the door, he closes the door quickly, sighing and gasping for air as you took off your heels, joost following along, "gee that was crazy!" You let out, you both stopped for a moment, starring into eachother, you can tell you synced up in that second because immediately you crash lips and start making out, he roughly pushes you against the wall, his tounge pushing into your mouth, you didn't put up a fight for dominance, not one bit, his hand roaming your body as he gropes your tits, you whimper out as he slowly kisses your neck, "come on." He pulls you by the hand, guiding you upstairs to his room, "sit down liefde" you quickly sit down as he takes off his jacket, his hair all soft and slightly wet, the thunder was clearly still there, rain hitting the window and producing a mystical sound, one you atleast thought was definitely mystical. You unzip your dress as joost slowly pulls it off of your body, leaving you in your black bra and panties, joost bends down to unclip your bra, slipping it off before bending down, his finger hovering over the hem of your panties, "can I take this off too pretty?" You nod slowly, your exhaustion from all the running was evident, he slips off the panties and spreads your legs gently, getting back up, you look up at him, eyes fluttering gently, hooded and cheeks all red and lips parted in a gentle manner, your the image of beauty and he knew it, he brushes a thumb over your lip, "are you exhausted schatje?" You whimper gently, nodding, he slowly presses his body against you, forcing you to lay down, he places both hands on your knees and spread them wide open for him, "gonna make you feel good okay doll?" You nod once again, he bends down , gently rubbing at your clit, you immediately let out a soft whimper, moans and gentle whispers of his name, he licks two of his fingers before slowly rubbing one down your cunt, sliding it in, he pumps it in and out inside of you, you feel his second finger plunge inside of you, you grip the sheets as you groan, your in a daze and the pleasure your feeling is making it worse, your eyes flutter, your spitting out incoherent sentences, you suddenly feel his breath inch closer to your pussy, you whimper once you felt his tounge lick a long strip from down to up, "God you taste amazing" hid thumb still rubbing circles at your puffy clit, you can feel your cheeks heating up as he continues gently pumping 2 fingers in and out of you while sucking your pretty clit, what more do you want other than for joost to completely fuck you and eat you out, your back arches as you instinctively roll your hips, You feel yourself inching closer to the edge as you let out a whimper, "joost! Fuck...m'close" your words are shaky, almost uncertain, your hands roam down to his hair, gripping harshly, you hear him groan and whimper, he's clearly enjoying himself and enjoying the way your pathetically begging for him to let you cum, your legs start trembling as you feel yourself finally get enveloped with that warm good feeling, your thighs close up around his head as you cum on his face, his groans still evident, you whimper and shudder, your thighs slowly parting as to let joost breath, you look down at a smirking joost, head tilted to the side, pussy drunk and completely head over heels for you, "come on, let me fuck you okay?" ...

Side note: if you think you have more requests, for ANY character, or for joost, send a request over! Hope ya enjoyed (´ε｀ )♡

Extra: I apologize if any of this is corny? Or not well written, the first version was good before it got deleted, I rushed over this. Promise there's better to come. Thanks!

[iamtired10]

once upon a sleepless night

pairing: pham hanni x fem! reader

genre: pure fluff.

warning: mention of mother insomnia and kissing.

SUMMARY: it’s one of those sleepless nights again. you’re restless, mind racing, but hanni, even though she’s exhausted from her long day, decides to tell you a whimsical fairytale to help lull you into dreamland.

you sighed as you leaned back in your chair, stretching your arms and glancing at the clock on your desk. 9:53 a.m...

“i’ve been at this for four hours straight.. still tired but not sleepy,” you muttered, rubbing your forehead as a persistent ache throbbed. regretting the 7 cups of coffee you’d downed today, you wondered what you could do. you always felt drowsy in class and needed the caffeine to stay awake.

rising from your chair, you decided a break was in order. grabbing your phone and a lollipop from the desk (a sweet gift from your best friend’s sister while you were hanging out), you settled on the couch. you turned on the tv and started scrolling through your phone.

absentmindedly munching on the lollipop, you browsed instagram, checking out the latest posts from newjeans.

**buzz! buzz!!**

a notification popped up, jolting you from your scrolling.

pham honey:

hey there, gorgeous..

the love of my life..

do you need me to bring you anything before i arrive?

your eyes widened in surprise. you paused your lollipop mid-chew, reading hanni’s message over and over.

“wait—what does she mean by 'she’s coming'?” you wondered aloud, trying to recall if she’d mentioned a visit today. nothing came to mind. she’d been swamped with idol commitments, and it had been a month since you last saw her. newjeans had just had their comeback, and they were buried in work—stages, photoshoots, and all the usual idol grind.

and you missed her. a lot.

her hugs, her kisses, her voice, her smile, her playful teasing, her jokes—everything.

you quickly tapped out a response, your excitement evident.

you:

wait you’re coming over? 

omg, you could’ve given me a heads up! 

i didn’t clean my room today 🙂💔 

and all i need right now is 

you ❤️ 

come back soon 

our plants miss you so much 

i mean, our ‘kids’ 

simpsona smith 

and flex armstrong

pham honey:

hehe i wanted to surprise you 🤭 

i’ve got a day off tomorrow

so manager unnie finally gave me the go-ahead to visit you.. yay! 

what did you mean by ‘you need me’ though? 😏 

care to explain? 😜 

and i MISS our ‘kids’ so much 😭 

have they grown up at all? 🥺 

i’m going to shower them with water and love when i get there 🤭

you:

well it’s not a surprise anymore😕

when i said i need you, i meant that i miss you so much, you silly bunny

you’re the only one who completes me

honestly i can't even put into words how much i miss you

could you hurry up a bit

so i can finally give you that big hug?

pretty please 🙏🏻

pham honey:

ooh~ 😏

someone seems extra needy for my affection today huh?

alright i’ll try to walk faster

but be patient, baby.

patience 😉

and...i’m super excited to see you.

i MISSED you too… like a ton?

i’ve been hugging my pillow at night, pretending it’s you ☹️

i can’t wait to shower you with kisses, like SO MANY kisses.

and cuddle you endlessly.

i LOVE YOU so much that it’s hard to even describe.

oh my god why are you so perfect?

you’re unbelievably perfect and i can’t believe you’re MY girlfriend, mine <3

you’re mine

oh god 🤭 i THINK I’M OBSESSED.

seriously baby... marry me 😍

you:

stop texting

and come home quickly

you walk so slowly with your short legs ☹️

and don’t you dare be late

pham honey:

wow. that’s kind of rude!

alright alright 🙄

you couldn’t help but smile as you set your phone down. “why is she so cute...” you murmured to yourself. with a sense of urgency, you mentally chastised yourself. “y/n, clean the room before she arrives!” you told yourself as you stood up, lollipop still clutched between your teeth.

you made your way to your room, determined to tidy up. the bed was reasonably clean but still a little messy. you didn’t want your perfect girlfriend, hanni pham, to see it less than immaculate. she deserved everything to be just as perfect as she was.

while humming contentedly and chewing your lollipop, you changed the bedsheets to fresh ones, making sure everything looked neat and inviting.

after you finished, you glanced at the clock. it was 9:31 p.m.

“when is she coming back...” you wondered aloud as you grabbed another lollipop from your desk, tossing the stick from the previous one into the trash. you stepped out of the room, a chuckle escaping you as you imagined hanni possibly tripping over her own feet. it was amusing but also a bit worrying.

hanni was always unpredictable. like, REALLY unpredictable.

you never knew what kind of delightful mischief she’d get up to next...

and it only made her cuter.

you loved her for it.

you loved her for exactly who she was.

you reached for your phone, which you’d left on the couch earlier. the tv’s soft hum played in the background, a distant noise in your current state of anticipation.

just as you were about to enter the final number of your password—

**ding-dong!!**

the doorbell rang loudly, making you jump slightly. “is that her?” you mumbled, the lollipop still dangling from your mouth.

“probably her,” you mused to yourself.

you made your way to the front door, fingers gripping the doorknob. you took a deep breath, peeking through the peephole to get a glimpse of the visitor.

there she was—standing outside the door, looking absolutely adorable in a hoodie...

wait a second—

IS THAT YOUR HOODIE!?

with a resigned sigh, you thought, “nothing new, she’s swiped my hoodie again…”

but she’s finally here...

why am i so nervous? you wondered, turning back to the door. slowly, you opened it. before you could even get a good look, she leapt into your arms, hugging you like a koala.

“oh my god, hanni, i can’t breathe,” you groaned, feeling her arms tighten around you. “come on, you’re squishing me.” even as you grumbled, you couldn’t deny how much you needed this.

“no way,” she mumbled into your neck. “i’ve waited a whole month to hold you again. baby, i missed you so much, like a person who’s lost something vital and can’t get through the day without it.” you stood there, unable to stop the smile spreading across your face, as you wrapped your arms around her. with your foot, you nudged the door shut and locked it.

“can you let go now?” you asked, making your way into the living room.

“uh-uh,” she shook her head, her nose buried in your scent. “why do you always smell so good?” she asked, pulling back just enough for her eyes to meet yours. she looked both exhausted and exhilarated. “i don’t use much perfume. it must just be my natural scent,” you shrugged, still chewing on your lollipop as you gently tried to pull her off the couch.

“no, don’t pull away!” she protested, pouting and crossing her arms, clearly disappointed. “you can’t just push me away after i’ve missed you so much!”

“you just came in from outside. go wash up first, you might have germs. i can’t risk catching anything—eww,” you teased, a smirk playing on your lips as you settled down on the couch opposite her. she huffed in response, turning her head away with a dramatic sigh. “seriously, how could you be so rude?” she grumbled.

“i’m just being careful, you know. can’t help it if that bruises your ego,” you teased, a smirk playing on your lips. “and let’s talk about the whole stealing thing, shall we?”

“stealing? me?” hanni raised an eyebrow, looking at you like you’d just accused her of some heinous crime. “when did i ever steal?”

you rolled your eyes, finally taking the lollipop stick out of your mouth and licking your lips. “don’t try that innocent act with me, pham. it’s not gonna work.”

she huffed dramatically. “fine! i might’ve borrowed one hoodie…”

“oh, just the one?” you crossed your arms, leaning back with a knowing grin.

“ugh, okay, fine! three hoodies!”

you shook your head, a mock-serious look on your face. “no more cuddles for you—”

“five! okay, five of your hoodies! happy now?”

you chuckled, clearly amused. “now i am. i think i'll call the cops now. imagine the headlines: ‘newjeans’ hanni caught red-handed stealing five hoodies from a fan, scandalizing her career.’”

“oh, shut up!” she pouted, crossing her arms. “i have every right to take your hoodies! i need something that smells like you when i miss you... and i even left one of my favorite hoodies with you, didn’t i?” she tried to sound indignant but it came out more like a whine.

without warning, she launched herself at you, nearly knocking you over. you caught her with a laugh, holding her close as she snuggled against you like a clingy koala.

“seriously, you’re gonna give me a heart attack one day,” you grumbled, though you couldn’t hide the smile on your face as you felt her warm breath against your neck.

“oh, please. you’re the one who was begging me to get here fast so you could hug me,” she retorted, her voice muffled against your shoulder.

you ran your fingers through her hair, a soft laugh escaping your lips. “okay, maybe i was being a little sweet... but i didn’t mean it that much.”

“liar!” she pinched your side playfully, making you yelp.

“ow, hanni!” you whined, trying to pull away, but she tightened her grip around you.

“hmm..” she looked up, her eyes meeting yours, weary and soft. “you look exhausted,” you mumbled, gently rubbing her back in slow, comforting circles. she sighed, cupping your face in her small hands. “i am... really tired... today’s practice was brutal. we recorded a new song today and... oh! you know, dani tried to moonwalk and tripped over her own feet!” she chuckled, her eyes lighting up for a moment. “haerin and i had a dance battle... but she beat me this time. minji was teasing me, as usual... and, oh! by the way, hyein told me to say hi. she misses you.” hanni rambled on, her voice a sweet melody to your ears. you couldn't help but chuckle softly as you brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

“you’re just too cute, baby... i can’t handle it,” you sighed, feeling a surge of affection wash over you. her cuteness was something that always left you both awestruck and grateful.

sometimes, you wondered what good deed you had done in life to deserve a girlfriend as wonderful as her.

“oh, shut up... i’m not that cute,” she grumbled, hiding her face in your neck, her voice muffled. “i don’t get why you and bunnies find me so adorable... you guys are too much.” she playfully hit your chest, causing you to laugh. you pulled her closer, enjoying the way she felt in your arms. “oh, my hanhan is flustered, i see. did i make you blush? yayyy!”

“l/n y/n, can you shut up... or i’ll kiss you,” she threatened, pulling back with a pout. you smirked, “oh really? but sorry, i'm busy eating my lollipop right now.” you teased, chewing the lollipop with a mischievous grin. she rolled her eyes. “is it weird that i'm jealous of that lollipop? you’re giving it more attention than me—”

“excuse me!? pham hanni, stop being so blunt!” you raised your eyebrows, feigning shock, as she crossed her arms, her expression daring. “can’t help it when you're licking that lollipop like that... it's kinda seductive.”

you felt your cheeks heat up, caught off guard by her words. “y-you're so weird...” you muttered, turning your gaze away. “don't look at me like that, you little freak.”

she chuckled at your flustered state, her fingers gently tilting your chin back toward her. “what look, darling?” she asked, raising an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at her lips. before you could respond, she reached out and popped the lollipop out of your mouth, bringing it close to her own lips. “hey, what the hell? that's mine!” you protested, but she just grinned wider.

“it must be really sweet, the way you were eating it... i want to see if it's as good as it looks...” she murmured, her voice dropping to a low, teasing whisper. your eyes widened in realization. “no! don't! that's gross, i already licked it! a little kid gave me that, and you can't just—”

“who said i was going to taste it from here?” she interrupted with a chuckle, her voice sultry and suggestive.

you froze, narrowing your eyes, trying to process her words. then it hit you.

“pham hanni, don’t you dare—”

before you could finish, she leaned in, capturing your lips with hers in a kiss that felt like she had been waiting forever for this moment.

her lips moved against yours with a hunger and intensity that left you breathless, her hands tangling in your hair as she deepened the kiss, leaving your lips swollen and red, and a few love bites on your neck as souvenirs.

just your average pham hanni behavior...

“baby, you're not sleeping?” you snapped out of your thoughts as you looked up from your notebook. you stopped writing and saw hanni lifting her head up from the bed. her hair was a bit messy, her eyes half-open, wearing one of your pajamas, looking absolutely adorable.

“ah.. i just have a few things to finish, my sweet bunny. did the lamp wake you up? sorry, i'll turn it away a bit..” you smiled, adjusting the light so it wouldn't bother her. hanni sat up with a sigh, rubbing her eyes. “what do you mean by 'a few things'? it's 2 a.m... you should be in bed too...” she yawned, clearly still half-asleep.

“can't sleep...” you admitted with a small, nervous laugh, turning your chair to face her. “did you have a nightmare or something? do you want me to cuddle you again?” you asked, getting up and moving towards her side of the bed. she reached out, grabbing your shirt sleeve and pulling you closer, wrapping her arms around your waist. “no, you're the one who should be sleeping...” she mumbled, her voice still heavy with exhaustion.

“you didn’t get much rest last night, and now you’re up again... working through the night like an owl or something,” she huffed, pressing her face against your stomach. you chuckled, patting her back gently. “baby, i can’t help it... even when i’m dead tired, i just can’t seem to fall asleep, no matter what i do...” you admitted, watching as her eyes widened slightly.

“has this been happening a lot lately?” she asked, concern evident in her tone. you nodded. she sighed, “sounds like insomnia... you’ve got insomnia, babe.”

“yeah, you could say that... but don’t sweat it.” you shrugged, rubbing the back of your neck. she scoffed, “don’t sweat it? do you even know how bad insomnia is?! it makes you tired... *yawn*... gives you poor concentration, mood swings, and increased stress or anxiety... it’s sooo bad. it can lead to health problems like heart disease, high blood pressure, and even accidents due to drowsiness...”

“oh... you’re making it sound like a big deal...” you laughed nervously, your hand gently caressing her back. "it is!” hanni insisted.

“we need to fix this.. chamomile tea, meditation, melatonin…” her voice trailed off as sleepiness tugged at her again. despite her best efforts to stay awake and worried for you, she was clearly still exhausted. all she could think about was making you chamomile tea in the morning or finding a meditation video on youtube to help you relax.

“you’re still so tired...” you tilted your head, observing her. “yes, but you’re even more tired than i am... so get in.” she sighed, letting go of your waist and scooting over to make room. “huh, what?”

“get in bed, dumbass,” she said, snuggling back under the blanket and patting the space next to her.

“uh... okay, let me just turn off the lamp...” you murmured, reaching over to turn off the light before climbing into bed beside her.

you groaned as you turned to the other side... it's been an hour now, and you still can't fall asleep. beside you, hanni was fast asleep again, clearly exhausted from her long day. you could hear the soft sounds of her breathing, occasionally mumbling something in her sleep and pulling you closer, snuggling against you.

“god... why the hell can't i sleep... i'm too tired to deal with this,” you sighed, rubbing your neck and opening your eyes. “i can't just lie here doing nothing... maybe i should get up and read a book in the living room, don’t want to wake my tired baby again...” you thought, carefully trying to get up. but as you moved, you realized hanni’s arm was still draped over you, holding you tight.

you blinked. “she's asleep... i’ll just move her hand aside... she's too sleepy to notice,” you thought as you slowly began to lift her arm off your shoulder. but you failed, accidentally jostling her awake.

“y/n-ah, what are you doing...” she murmured sleepily, her voice groggy with fatigue. you closed your eyes, silently cursing yourself for waking her up again. “uh, i need to pee...” you blurted out nervously, trying to come up with an excuse.

“huh... you've been to the bathroom like four times already... do you have diabetes too or something?” she muttered, slowly opening her eyes. “oh god, why did you give my baby all these problems...” she sighed, shaking her head.

you blinked in surprise. “no! i don't have diabetes! what the hell...” you exclaimed, and she chuckled softly. “then why do you keep running to the bathroom, huh?”

“okay, fine... i lied. i just... can’t sleep,” you admitted with a sigh, dropping your head back onto the pillow. “can’t sleep?” she whispered, pulling you closer. you nodded, feeling her warm breath on your neck. she sighed gently. “is there anything i can do to help you? do you want me to make you some chamomile tea, baby?” she offered, her voice filled with concern despite her own exhaustion.

“no, you should sleep,” you insisted, shaking your head. “but i can't sleep peacefully when you're struggling to sleep, baby. you're going to be exhausted tomorrow, and that's not good... just tell me if there's something i can do. i’m not going back to sleep if you don’t...” she said, softly caressing your cheek.

“i don’t know... but your voice calms me a lot... if you don’t mind... could you tell me a story?” you asked, snuggling closer to her. she hummed softly, her fingers gently brushing through your hair. “you want me to tell you a story... like a fairytale or something?” she asked quietly. you nodded against her shoulder.

“let me think of one, baby...” she whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead as she continued to stroke your hair. “hmmm... i remember one that my grandma used to tell me when i was little...” she said, and you looked up at her, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“close your eyes and just listen, okay? don’t think about anything else, just listen. it’ll help you fall asleep...” she murmured, placing gentle kisses on each of your eyelids, making you feel even calmer.

“okay, baby. i'll just listen,” you mumbled, closing your eyes. she chuckled softly, pulling you even closer. “that’s my baby,” she whispered, her voice soothing as she began her story.

“once upon a time,” she began, her fingers gently threading through your hair, “there was a princess.”

hanni closed her eyes, letting her imagination bring the story to life as she spoke, her voice a soft, soothing hum that blended with the quiet of the night.

“this princess lived in a beautiful kingdom, where everything seemed perfect and peaceful. but despite all the beauty around her, the princess felt a deep unhappiness inside.”

“why was she unhappy?” you asked, curiosity getting the better of you.

“babe, you said you wouldn't talk,” hanni teased, pausing her hand in your hair for a moment before continuing. “but well, the princess was unhappy because, although she had everything she could ever wish for, she was lonely. she had a kingdom and all the luxuries one could imagine, but she had no one to truly share them with, no one who genuinely cared for her.”

“she had her parents, of course," hanni went on, her fingers resuming their gentle, calming motion through your hair. “but it wasn't the kind of connection she was yearning for.”

she paused, her voice her voice dropping to a softer, more intimate tone.

"then, one day, the princess met a knight..."

"the knight came into her life like a breath of fresh air..." hanni murmured, her voice soft and dreamlike. "he was unlike any other man in the kingdom.. he wasn't interested in her wealth or her title.. he treated her with kindness and respect.. not as a princess, but as a person.."

hanni smiled at the thought of the knight, her fingers tracing lightly along your jaw.

“the princess was captivated by this new person in her life...” she continued in a whisper, her touch tender and affectionate. “she found herself drawn to him in ways she couldn't explain.. maybe it was his courage, his loyalty, or just the way he saw her for who she truly was...”

“as time went on, the princess and the knight grew closer...” hanni said, her voice now a soft murmur, almost like a lullaby. “they spent time together, sharing their thoughts and dreams.. learning more about each other with every passing day...”

her hand moved gently down to rest on your chest, feeling the steady rhythm of your heartbeat.

"as they got to know each other, the princess realized she was falling in love with the knight.." hanni whispered, her hand drifting down to rest lightly on your stomach. "he was everything she had ever dreamed of and more.. and to her surprise and delight, she discovered that he felt the same way about her.."

"time passed, and their love only grew stronger.." hanni continued, her soft, melodic voice drawing you deeper into a state of calm and peace.

"they were blissfully happy, cherishing every moment they could spend together.." she murmured, her fingers gently tracing along your skin, soothing you further.

"but the princess' parents... they didn't approve of their love.. they had other plans for her.. they wanted her to marry someone of higher rank.. someone who could bring more power and wealth to the kingdom.."

"they forbade their relationship.." hanni said, her voice tinged with a note of sorrow. "they wanted the princess to marry a suitor who would benefit the kingdom politically, not a humble knight.."

"the knight and the princess were heartbroken.." hanni whispered, her hand stilling for a moment on your hip. "they tried to reason with her parents, but it was in vain.. her parents were determined to marry her off to someone else.."

"but the knight knew he couldn't just give up.." hanni continued, her voice firmer now, filled with quiet determination. "he didn't care about status or wealth.. he loved the princess, and he was resolved to find a way to be with her.."

“so he went to the king and boldly asked for the princess's hand in marriage.. the king was furious and refused, but seeing the knight's determination, he set a challenge.. if the knight could complete three impossible tasks, then he could marry the princess,” hanni explained.

as hanni continued the story, her voice calm and soothing, you began to feel drowsy.. her storytelling was comforting, her gentle caresses on your hair making your eyelids feel heavy.

"the knight, with the unicorn's horn in his possession, presented himself before the king, having completed all three tasks.." hanni murmured, her hand now tracing soft patterns on your arm. "seeing that the knight had succeeded, the king had no choice but to honor his promise and allow the knight to marry the princess.."

"and then they live happily ever after...." you mumbled sleepily, a small smile tugging at your lips.

hanni chuckled at your sleepy comment, her hand continuing to gently run through your hair.

"yes... it's a classic fairy tale.. the knight overcomes all obstacles, wins the princess's heart, and they live happily ever after.." she whispered, her voice carrying a hint of playful amusement.

“thank you... han... for the story and for everything... i love you... so much...” you sighed, feeling yourself drifting off, the world fading away.

“anytime, my love... good night.. sweet dreams, and remember to dream of me, okay?"

a/n: i really enjoyed writing this, and i hope it brought you some joy too. thanks so much for reading, and have a wonderful day or night! :)) (i need a hanni fr...)

[yanderenightmare]

who's the worst bnha yandere? in your opinion

Shigaraki Tomura x darling

TW: NSFW, noncon/dubcon, f!reader, Shiggy being gross

fem reader

It’s easily Tomura.

Tomura because he doesn’t care about the most basic of human needs. 

Forgets to feed you. And when he does – it’s always some half-eaten burger, sub or burrito. He doesn’t give two shit if you’re vegan or vegetarian. Shit – he doesn’t even care if you’re allergic. If you don’t want it, you can starve.

Doesn’t give you clothes. He rarely bothers getting himself new clothes, do you think he’s gonna do you any better? No. Wear his dandruff-riddled, old-sweat-seeped hoodie – or wear nothing.

Something else you miss is proper housing – even if it’s just a room with a bed and a toilet. You’ve learned that even that is too much to ask for.

You never stay in the same place for long – needing to switch bases regularly in order to remain low. Never anything he’ll have to pay for, of course – a pick of the litter abandoned office buildings, hotels, and empty homes. 

If you’re lucky enough to find a place with running water, you stay longer. If not, you’ll have to make do for a couple of days – worst case was a little over a week. You still shudder thinking about it. 

He’ll keep you in any room he can lock from the outside – only sometimes blessing you with an actual mattress and not some old moldy sofa or a thin blanket on cold floors.

One time, you stayed in some old mansion one of the league members had found. You suspect they killed whoever lived there before – seeing as the entire house was properly furnished and clean when you all infested the place. 

Not that you got to explore much – Tomura kept you locked in the master bedroom on the third floor – the one where you most definitely would have broken both legs if you tried escaping through the window.

It had been one of the nicer places. One with working hot water and clothes for you to change into – albeit shamefully, sending prayer and thanks to the owner who was no doubt dead and rotting. You were even able to find a stockpile of fresh towels and linens you changed after a week had gone by.

But as the weeks turned to more weeks, they’d all run out – and you began hoping you’d move on to the next place soon. Even with the risk of it being someplace cold and dusty, it would still be a fresher slate.

The nice mansion had gone bad after a month or so – you’d lost track of time. 

Thankfully, you’d been able to air out the dank smell of armpit, ass, and feet – and were allowed to take a shower whenever you weren’t handcuffed to the bed – often able to lure Tomura to join you if only for the sake of washing the stench of decay, dandruff and dickcheese off him. 

But even so, Tomura isn't the most hygienic type. Managing keeping him halfway decent was troubling enough. 

It’s way tougher to keep the room tidy with Tomura’s ill habits of keeping half-eaten food lying around – empty cup noodles and other street junk, beer bottles, and sour energy drinks – along with bloody piles of worn-out clothes, dirty holey underwear, and soggy condoms.

You were driven to the point of disgust that you’d asked him whether he could do you the simple favor of finding and bringing you the house cleaning supplies so you could wash the place yourself.

Oh… how funny he’d found that little comment... 

“Too filthy in ‘ere for yah, is it? Too gross for the pretty princess?”

It hadn’t been the first time he’d made you lick the floor. Face down, ass up – with his bare foot placed heavy and clammy against your teary cheek – two of his fingers stuffing your cunt, and the other two inside your ass – while he sits at the edge of the bed, spitefully stroking his hard dick to the degrading view.

“Tch – such a filthy bitch, and you complain about the scenery?” He sneers – pumping both your holes. “Didn’t know I was fuckin’ such a spoiled cunt.”

You cry at the crass stretch his digits make – but you know better than to fight him when he’s pissed. You only regret forgetting how it’s never been a good idea for you to do much of anything other than nod your head and smile pliantly – open your mouth wide for his tongue, spit, cock, and cum or otherwise keep it shut.

Per request, you keep it open wide, tongue out on the hardwood floor – tasting the grouts of lint and dirt and God knows what – stale and salty on your tastebuds. Or maybe it was the tears gushing from your eyes – soaking your face where you sobbed.

“Tch – shut up.” A hand replaces the foot on your face – dragging you up with a fist in your hair. Pulling his fingers from your holes with a sloppy shlick – before promptly pushing all four digits inside your mouth. “If you wanna clean somethin’ – you can start with this slutty mess.”

You gag at the threat as he shoves all but his thumb down your throat – wiping off your slick, then giving your face a mean slap with the same, now spit-coated, hand – before pulling you up from the floor by your hair and ushering you onto his lap to straddle him.

He wipes the rest of your drool off on his erect cock – standing proudly with a thick flow of creamy pre leaking from his slit.

He doesn’t waste much time before lining up with your puffy pussy-lipped hole and making you sink down on him.

You croak at him going in raw – always feeling extra violated without the thin rubber protecting you from catching his germs as he pushes all his veiny girth inside you until giving your womb a cummy kiss. 

“What’s the problem, slut? Don’t like riding dirty dick?” He huffs, starting to rut against you in no clean tempo. He snickers at your grimace, still holding your hair in a tight pull as he angles your face to his to kiss your tight-lined lips – feeling you cringe even more. “Don’t worry. I’ll let you clean it after I fill this and the other hole up with filth.”

You whimper at the dark promise – and he wipes his tongue across your sorry expression from chin to temple.

“I’ll do you up nice and nasty – so you won’t feel so out of place anymore~”

[mazosstuff]

Could you answer a curiosity of mine?

Pairing: Jing Yuan x gn! reader

Cw: none

Word count: 1.0k

Synopsis: You notice something off about your partner's hair, so you point it out and get to spend some quality time with him.

A/n: I finally did it. I completed this fic, and now I can post it! As always, requests are open. Pls check the pinned post!

Divider by @firefly-graphics

It was a day like the others. You were tidying up a little while your partner, Jing Yuan, was taking a shower to clean off all the dirt and sweat he could have on his body since summer was coming up and the days began being hotter and hotter by the minute.

You still couldn't believe you could call the General of the Cloud Knights of the Luofu and one of the Seven Arbiter-Generals your partner.

The relationship was at the first stages, still pretty contained and not much action besides lingering kisses and long nights spent cuddled one against the other.

The Dozing General, after all, hasn't been romantically infatuated with anyone since his teen years.

But, besides that, you two had great chemistry and were a match made in heaven. The frequency of your visits started to piss off Yanqing for how much time and attention you were taking away from his master. He even started joking around with Yunli of how you two should get together.

The two young ones teased the hell out of both of you, but in the end, they've grown to like the idea of you two together.

As you folded and put away the dirty sheets, you went to grab new ones from one of the shelves in the closet that was in the corridor before the main bathroom.

Coincidentally, you both happened to open the doors of the rooms you were in, one to enter, the other to exit the bathroom.

There you saw him. The General, no, Jing Yuan was standing right in front of you. He looked like he had just come out of the shower. His hair was dripping wet. He only had a towel wrapped around his hips to cover his intimates and... he noticed you staring at him.

You quickly averted your gaze and buried your face in the clean bed sheets you had in your hands.

"I'm sooo sorry Jing Yuan! I didn't mean to invade your privacy" you said hurriedly as you got out of that little corridor.

All of the sudden, you felt his hand grabbing your wrist to pull you closer to him.

"H-huh?" You stared at him with a confused and flustered look on your face.

"I'm sorry if I'm making you uncomfortable, my dear. I'd just like to ask you if you could help me with drying my hair... it's a really... tiring process, and if I have to be honest, I don't think I have the strength to do it myself." Jing Yuan asked calmly. Did he really not care that there was one single layer of fabric that hanged on his hips for dear life that separated decency and indecency?

You sighed. "Okay... can you at least put something on?"

"Of course, dear" he said with his usual calm smile as he approached the bedroom and changed into his nightrobe.

Once dressed more decently, you invited him to sit with his back on the side of your shared bed. In the meanwhile, you prepared all the tools and products you thought he needed when in reality, he never really cared that much about styling his hair or using products to protect them from heat or being frizzy.

You sat down on the bed behind him and placed yourself with your legs at his sides.

As you combed and dried his hair, you noticed two major elements. You knew his hair was layered and not cut straight... but not like a wolf cut. The complete opposite.

"A-Yuan...?" You called out for his attention.

"Yes?" He answered with a soft and sleepy tone.

"Could you answer a curiosity of mine?"

"Of course. What is it that plagues your mind?"

"Have you ever got an undercut?"

He placed his hand over his face in order to hide the faint blush on his face even if you couldn't see it.

"Yes, I had one. When I was still a teenager, it just so happened that there was a really hot summer and... I gave in. I couldn't resist the heat, and, in the end, I gave myself an undercut. Like I said... dealing with these hair it's really time-consuming." He explained and then lowered his voice when he admitted he couldn't bear the heat of that summer.

"Don't be flustered, I get it. I knew some people that had to do the same thing..." You eased his worries. "And... by the way, have you ever considered having curly hair?"

"Yes. I actually did. But, as you may have figured out, I have little to no time to actually care about what hair type I have"

"That sounds like bullshit to me." You got up from your seat on the bed and indicated the bathroom.

"... is this a cue to go back to the bathroom, dear?" He asked with a smirk on his face.

"We have time now. Go and put your head under the running water. This may take a while"

"Yes, my love" he said as he went back to the bathroom. You were left there with a deep blush on your cheeks.

"Damn you..." you muttered under your breath as you waited a bit to calm down and then went in the bathroom where he was waiting for you with his hair damp.

After a good hour and a half, you made him look in the mirror with his damaged, loose, but still there, curl pattern.

"So... what do you think?"

He looked at himself in the mirror and not only he felt a little boost for his confidence, but he also appreciated the opportunity to spend some quality time with his partner. Doing something that made him leave the general role and indulge in the little things that made life worth living is surely something he doesn't do often.

"It's... really good. I appreciate what you've done for me tonight, dear"

"Don't mention it. I like spending time with you and taking care of you"

He leaned in and left a soft kiss on their lips.

"I look forward for the next time then." He said as soon as his eyes met with yours.

Your cheeks turning red was the last thing you wanted him to see tonight.

Likes, comments, and reblogs are always much appreciated. <333

[olderthannetfic]

I thought it would be interesting to see if I could easily determine which ships had the most works updated in 2023.

It turned out to be fairly easy, though a little time consuming. I think these results should be reasonably accurate.

Some points to note:

I did this on my own account, and I have like 2 people muted. So I am capturing the effects of archive-locked works, but my numbers might be off by one or two works due to muting.

Works updated in 2023 is a number that constantly changes as works are deleted or updated again in 2024.

I didn't scrape the entire archive or anything like that, so it's possible I missed a ship that would bump one of these down below 100. I'd take the last few at the bottom there with a grain of salt. But I think we can be reasonably sure the top ones are accurate and that the kinds of numbers that we see at the bottom there (eighteen hundred plus works updated in 2023) are about where the cutoff will be even if we find a ship I missed.

--

As for how I did this, I went to the category tags and the rating tags, filtered for updating in 2023, then excluded ships in the sidebar till I got to 130-150 ships excluded. I also grabbed ships that are big in general from tag search, which you can use to find all relationship canonicals, ordered by frequency.

I combined those lists of ships, cleaned off the works numbers, and generated a list without duplicates. That got me three hundred and something (yes, they were mostly duplicates). I generated the relevant AO3 URLs, opened them in batches with Open Multiple URLs, and copied the works totals into a spreadsheet. Not as tidy as using a script but honestly pretty easy if you know a few spreadsheet formulas to clean up data.

The key here is that if you're only going for pretty good and not accurate beyond a shadow of a doubt, all you need to do is generate a list of likely ships, then check them.

It's possible that there's some much-updated ship that is so evenly spread across these various other tags that it just missed showing up in the sidebar. Hopefully, grabbing more than just the top 100 avoided this problem.

This method also doesn't take into account backdated works. If a whole archive was imported in 2023 but all backdated, there could be some ship that didn't have new works but where AO3 users experience in 2023 was of an influx of content.

I also did this just now, in late March/early April, so some 2023 works have inevitably been deleted or updated again. So the exact work counts don't represent the experience of using AO3 throughout 2023. A fandom active in early 2023 might not have much updating in early 2024, while a fandom active in late 2023 would. This could demote the latter a few places in the rankings since I didn't grab numbers on January 1st.

Even if a person scraped AO3 every day or was monkeying around in the databases, you also have to ask what conceptual answer you're after. Is it works a user could have read at some point during 2023, whether they were deleted by the year's end or not? Is it new-to-AO3 works or only newly-created ones, not including imported archives? Does it matter if the works are fic? If they're in English? What about accidental double-uploads or translations of a single work?

I hope this makes it clear why a definitive ranking is not actually possible.

However, despite these drawbacks, I am confident that the rankings above accurately represent the broad trends on AO3 in 2023. Just don't get too fixated on whether a ship should be at number 73 or number 74.

And, of course, I excluded these from the top 100:

Original Character(s)/Original Character(s) - 20,026

Minor or Background Relationship(s) - 16,187

No Romantic Relationship(s) - 8,052

Original Female Character(s)/Original Male Character(s) - 7,195

Original Male Character/Original Male Character - 6,283

Other Relationship Tags to Be Added - 5,618

Original Female Character(s)/Original Female Character(s) - 3,990

Original Character(s) & Original Character(s) - 3,210

Here's a spreadsheet if you want to see the actual numbers not as a shitty screencap. I left the next few below 100 for context.

[badmuni]

enhypen x-ray 🔍

★ . ꜝꜞ ᳝ ࣪ ( the way they communicate with their s/o ) ☁️ׂ ʬʬ

₍⁠₍ 김선우 ₎⁠₎ sunoo

“how was your day?” “tell me everything.”

sunoo is incredibly interested and wants to know everything about his s/o's life, even the bad outcomes.

“did you have dinner already?” “please don't skip any meals !”

sunoo is constantly concerned with their wellbeing and health. he pays attention to these details since he is aware that some people are careless with food and he doesn't want his partner to be.

“you can count on me, baby. i love you. i love you so much i can't even breath”

he likes to show his affection for them sometimes even sounding a little dramatic, but that's just how he want it to be. sunoo enjoys expressing his emotions, which usually results in him sending them lengthy (romantic) texts. or placing calls...

₍⁠₍ 西村力 ₎⁠₎ ni-ki

“did you miss me? don't lie, i know you missed me.”

riki is cute and provocative all at once, and he enjoys receiving special treatment from his lover. he just acts like that every time he visits them.

“i wanna go out with you again, baby.”

riki enjoys spending time with his s/o. he likes taking them on adventures and to new places because it makes him the happiest. also, because he likes adrenaline (way too much).

“i bought something to you... it's surprise so i'm not going to reveal what it is, but try to guess it.”

riki (often) spends his money buying things to his s/o. sometimes a plushie or maybe a T-shirt that says “i love my boyfriend” with a lil pic of him in it (thats so corny lol). or sometimes a jewelry, rings, bracelets, necklaces. he totally spoils his s/o in his own way.

₍⁠₍ 심재윤 ₎⁠₎ jake

“darling, do you think this looks good?”

always asking his s/o opinions on things, doesn't really matter the topic, jake will wants to hear their thoughts on it because he has a lot of faith in their taste.

“i woke up, tidied up the room because yk jay slaves me, so i went out to work, then i came home, but it was too late so i went to dinner [...]”

jake is very open with his s/o, telling them everything, since he thinks it's cool to do so. as he appreciates having a strong link with them, he believes that doing this brings them even closer together.

“BABY YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT JUST HAPPENED”

he just CAN'T be privy to a gossip; he'll quickly relay it to his partner. as soon as he knows something, he just goes there and tells them about it. jake just can't keep secrets from his partner...

₍⁠₍ 양정원 ₎⁠₎ jungwon

“i dreamed about you last night... it was pretty clingy but i like it”

jungwon thinks about his s/o constantly, even when he's sleeping... :( and he makes clear they are aware about it.

“how are you feeling today, darling?”

wonnie is very sensitive to the feelings of his s/o and appreciates that they keep him informed of their concerns and feelings throughout the day.

“better you be careful, i'm going to kidnap you tonight😼”

unplanned little walks through the city at night is something wonnie enjoys doing with his lover in order to easy his mind and feel peaceful.

₍⁠₍ 이희승 ₎⁠₎ heeseung

“i wish you were here...”

many times, as an introvert, heeseung just wants to escape from social events. but tbh, he thinks that if his s/o were around, the whole experience would be better for him.

“i was counting the minutes and seconds to see you”

heeseung is sweet most of the time, and plus, he's very good using words. he also can't just get away from someone he loves so much for too long or he starts to get crazy.

“oh- you want water, baby? don't worry, i got you!”

man simply don't miss a single opportunity to please his partner or just do things for them. they want or need something? heeseung is there doing for them.

₍⁠₍ 박성훈 ₎⁠₎ sunghoon

“you have such a good taste...”

“oh- why do you have a good taste? because you date me, tsk”

hoon is constantly valuing himself, almost as though he enjoys pampering. so he expects his s/o to agree with him that he's a handsome man.

“you look so good today. actually you look good everyday... you're the prettiest, baby”

never disappointing, sunghoon wants his s/o to be always confident about themselves just like he is, so he often compliments them.

“are you feeling good? wants to do something else?”

when he and his s/o goes out, hoon worries if they're enjoying what they're doing. if the crowd seems too loud, sunghoon quickly wants to take his partner from there. he values have a good atmosphere around him and his partner, that's why he gets worried.

₍⁠₍ 박종성 ₎⁠₎ jay

“did you know productivity is a concept created by the capitalism?”

jay is such a nerdy and that's something not much talked about. he is always discovering new things and randomly telling his s/o about it. jay absolutely adores debating, too.

“your eyes are so pretty. for real, the prettiest eyes i've ever seen. they shine with the sunlight... i don't wanna stop look at them.”

also, jay is always noticing every detail about his s/o. be it about their physical characteristics or personality.

“bought this for you since last week i heard you say you wanted this.”

jay literally remembers every last information since he likes to make his partner feel special. jay demonstrates his love by being a devoted person, as you can tell from the bottom of his heart.

# masterlist

[ ★ ] — notes: hey guys, i just created this new thing 'enhypen x-ray' where i'll make posts like this about their acts and behavior.

thank u for reading ! and let me know if you like it :)

© badmuni, 2023

[rookthorne]

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐆𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐞

The heat and tension was undeniable, and you felt it the moment you got the simple text from them. What awaited you, however, was something much more than a simple night of games.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ༄ Fireman!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader x Fireman!Steve Rogers

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ༄ 2.7k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ༄ Fluff ჻჻჻ SMUT: Fingering (F receiving), unprotected piv, multiple orgasms, toy play, Dom/Sub (Dom!Bucky + Dom!Steve + Sub!Reader) ჻჻჻ KINKS: Praise, daddy, degredation, voyeurism, exhibitionism

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 ༄ Can this go down in the Hall of Fame as one of the best things I have ever written...?

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 ༄ Stone Cold Killer by Kat Leon

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 ༄ @buckybarnesevents Hot Bucky Summer ჻჻჻ Week 6 — Spread Open — Masterlist

𝐁𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐭 𝐃𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Your boys had promised that once they arrived home from shift, that they would toy with you, and they wouldn’t stop – the sultry messages and pictures you had sent them as a game while they worked hard, was just a subtle reminder of what was waiting for them once they walked through the door. 

Sure, you may have played into your own fate, but you would cross that bridge when it came to it. 

A loud chime sounded from your phone, and you glanced at the screen to find a text from Bucky. It was an order – an order to lay on their gigantic bed, legs and arms spread wide, and to wait. 

That part came as a shock you stood in the kitchen, sipping at a glass of water. It was a miracle you didn’t drop and shatter the glass in your hand in surprise. 

“Oh, god,” you muttered, flushing with heat from the tips of your toes to the top of your head – an order like that is only followed by one hell of a night at their hands. “Fuck. Okay, okay,” you rushed, placing the glass in the sink. “Alright.”

Quickly, you padded towards the bedroom, your robe fluttering over your thighs at the speed. The door creaked open and you assessed the room. The bed was neatly made, uniform and tidy – it would make it easier for them to manhandle you into position, you guessed, whatever position that may be. 

The sound of their truck pulling in the drive and the yips of Cap and Cleo startled you into action. Your robe, soft and fluffy to the touch, fell from your shoulders and you hung it up hastily before climbing onto the bed, clad in only the red lingerie you had teased them with. 

“Down, no- No get down, boy,” Steve called, his voice loud down the hall. “That’s it, back up.”

“Shit,” you whispered. Steve’s voice was hoarse, like he had been shouting, and you didn’t hear Buck–

“Fuckin’ hell,” Bucky sighed. There he was. “You deal with the balls of energy, yeah?”

“Sure.”

Heavy boots thudded on the tiled floor, followed by a scuffle – they were taking off their uniforms, it seems. 

“Cherry, sweetheart,” Bucky called, and you bit your lip. The new nickname they had deemed you with still had a chokehold on you. “Where are you?”

The bed covers rustled under you as you shifted slightly, spreading your legs and resting your arms back. “In here,” you answered. There were exactly five seconds to brace for the sight of Bucky in the doorway – tight shirt and uniform pants, with suspenders over his broad chest. 

“Well, well, well,” Bucky purred, moving to lean his hip against the doorframe. 

“Hi, daddy,” you replied softly, smiling. “Missed you.”

“Hi, Cherry,” he said smoothly, voice low with a small smirk. “Seems to me that you suddenly learned how to follow orders, huh? Lookatchu, spread and all pretty for us.”

Steve appeared over Bucky’s shoulder and your gaze flickered to his handsome face, his eyes bright and staring straight back at you. “What a sight,” he breathed, and Bucky grinned. “What d’you say, baby? Follow our plan, or just fuck her?”

You blanched and sat up, your thighs closing and arms bending at the elbow to hold you up. “Wait, what?”

“Hush, doll,” Bucky chided. He turned to Steve, his grin becoming wide and predatory. “I think we should follow through with our plan, babe, she deserves it after what she did today–wanna see how long our fucktoy lasts, too.”

“What the fuck,” you said loudly. “Wait-”

“No,” Steve snapped. The two of them walked into the room and towered over you on the bed. “Legs spread, arms out–now.”

“Ste-”

“You call me by my name, darlin’, or you will regret it,” Steve cut in, eyes ablaze. 

Bucky clicked his tongue and walked towards the closet. “Do as he says, kitten,” he said over his shoulder, disappearing for just a second before reappearing, box in hand. “C’mon.”

“But-”

“Lay down. Last time we’re gonna ask nicely,” Bucky growled. The darkening expression on his face made you gulp, and reluctantly, you laid back and spread your legs. “There’s a good girl–wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“No,” you mumbled, watching Bucky as he pulled the lid off the box. With the angle of your position, you couldn’t see into it, but the way Bucky and Steve’s faces lit up when they looked at the contents made a shiver ripple up your spine. “Da-”

“Shh,” Bucky hushed, “don’t open those lips unless you’re moaning, sweetheart.”

Your jaw clicked shut and you watched them with wide eyes. Four spools of velvet rope appeared as Steve pulled back from the box, red in colour, and then Bucky pulled out some sort of suction toy – just like the one you had been eyeing off online. Your mouth opened before you could master the impulse and you blurted, “How the fuck did you know?” 

Bucky grinned wickedly. “You’re not as secretive as you think you are, doll. But now you’ll know just how it feels. And I dunno about you, Stevie,” he said, now looking at Steve. “But I can’t wait to watch her fall apart over and over, with this.” The toy waved in the air, and you swallowed audibly, making the two of them chuckle. 

“Cherry,” Steve said from the bottom of the bed, and you glanced down. “You alright with being tied up, honey?” You nodded fervently and offered your ankles, stretching further. “Good girl,” he praised, and you hummed happily.

A loud vibration came from beside your head and you jumped in surprise, searching for the sound, only to see Bucky standing by your head, the other two spools of rope in one hand, the toy in the other. “Oh, yeah,” he mused, grinning down at you. “I am really lookin’ forward to this.”

“I’ll say,” Steve agreed, cinching the rope around your ankles. The soft touch of his fingers over your skin to check the tightness warmed your heart, and you smiled at him, ignoring the curl of pleasure in your gut at the dangerous smirk he flashed you. Bucky made quick work of your wrists – following the exact same steps Steve did, and they both stepped back to admire their work. 

The scrutiny brought heat to your cheeks, and you tried twisting away, a sudden shyness gripping you in its talons. 

“Don’t hide, sweetheart,” Bucky said softly, a small smile on his face as he looked up and down your body. “You look so fuckin’ sexy like this. Doesn’t she, Stevie?”

“She does.” They stepped back towards the bed, Bucky on one side, Steve rounding to the other, and they knelt on the mattress by your hips. “You remember your safe word, honey?”

You nodded. “Yeah–it’s, uh-” you paused, licking your lips. The proximity of Bucky’s hand to your hip was distracting. “Petal. It’s petal.”

“Atta girl,” Bucky praised, winking when your eyes darted towards him. “What d’ya say, baby? You ready to teach our girl a lesson for distractin’ us?”

“Oh, c’mon-” You began to whine, but bit your tongue at the slight frown on both of their lips. “I just wanted-”

“You wanted our attention, we know,” Steve said, his tone dangerously low. “The problem with that, darlin’, is that it’s landed you here. Spread out between us, and at our mercy.”

“It’s just a pity, kitten,” Bucky began, his tongue darting out to wet his lips again as he looked down towards your pussy. “You’re gonna be too fucked out and fuckin’ desperate to take in this lesson. A damn shame really. Jus’ means you’ll have to learn–again-” He moved the toy into sight again. “And again.” The toy brushed your stomach, the smooth glide and subtle vibration of the lowest setting making you squirm slightly. Bucky moved your panties down your thighs and ran the toy over your mound. “And again.” 

“Oh, fuck.” The breath in your lungs left in a high whimper, your thighs tensing as Bucky teased the toy closer and closer to your clit. 

“And guess what, sweetheart,” Bucky whispered, lowering his face so his lips were brushing the shell of your ear. “There’s nothin’ you can do about it.”

“Show her, baby,” Steve ordered, his hand squeezing your thigh. 

You glanced quickly at Steve, then to Bucky, who had sat up and was grinning so wide you swore his cheeks would split. “Alright.”

There was a second where you truly were apprehensive, and then Bucky’s arm moved, and you keened. “Oh, look at her,” Steve breathed, grinning. 

“Fuck, fuck, okay,” you gasped, and Bucky pressed the toy harder against your clit, upping the setting. “Ah! Please, oh my god-”

“It’s on one of the lowest settings, Cherry,” Bucky quipped, raising a brow. “You that fuckin’ sensitive?”

“Yes! I’ve been waiting all day for you to come home,” you rushed, twisting slightly. “Please turn it up, please.”

Steve shifted next to you, his knees brushing your thigh. “Make her cum, baby,” he said, brushing his fingers against your opening. “We can have more fun when she’s fucked out.”

“Okay.” Bucky shrugged, and turned the settings up. 

You pulled against the ropes, tugging valiantly to ground yourself against the onslaught. “Fuck! Oh, fuck, daddy, feels s’good,” you cried, looking between them. 

“You want some more, honey?” Steve asked, and you nodded. The sudden pressure of his fingers pushing into your cunt up to the first knuckle made you groan loudly, your eyes fluttering at the pleasure that burned through every nerve. “That’s it, darlin’, that’s it.”

“So fuckin’ pretty like this, sweetheart,” Bucky praised, turning the toy up one more. The slick sounds of Steve’s fingers beginning to pump in and out of your cunt and your heavy pants filled the room, and you closed your eyes, back bowing to the ceiling. “I reckon you could cum jus’ like this, doll.”

You nodded quickly, your mouth opening on a keening moan when Steve’s fingers brushed insistently against your walls, searching, searching- “Ah- Daddy, fuck!”

“There it is,” Bucky cooed, leaning over your body to watch Steve’s fingers work in and out of your cunt. “God, kitten, you’re taking daddy’s fingers so well, fuckin’ lookatchu.”

Steve huffed, and twisted his hand. “Can feel the toy, and no wonder she’s losing her pretty head.”

Bucky chuckled and turned it up once more.

The coil began to pull taut and the tension was becoming overwhelming – the sensation of Steve’s fingers hitting that spot over and over and the toy sucking on your clit like a man starved, like they would. “I’m close!”

“You’re close, huh?” Bucky hummed, and Steve laughed.

“Know you’re close, honey, you’re fucking squeezin’ my fingers,” Steve mused, his head coming to rest on Bucky’s shoulder to look down at your weeping cunt. “Your pussy doesn’t want to let them go, and she’s making a fucking mess–look at her, Buck.”

Bucky whistled lowly. “Can’t wait to fuck this pussy, fill her up jus’ like she deserves–oh, sweetheart, you like that?”

You moaned loudly and panted harshly, the pulses of your cunt gripping Steve’s fingers becoming unbearable. “Yes! Please, pleasepleaseplease, I want it, I need it-”

“Cum for us, then,” Steve purred, his voice strained. “Be a good girl, give it to us.”

The blood roared in your ears and your toes curled, your thighs tensing and pulling harshly against the rope restraints. “Oh, fuck–I’m cumming, please!”

“Good fuckin’ girl,” Bucky moaned, pushing your hips down into the mattress with one hand, and holding the toy fast to your clit with the other, the pulses ricocheting up your spine and causing a cascade of aftershocks. “Goddamn, baby, look at ‘er.” 

You watched through lidded eyes as Bucky pulled Steve into a heated kiss, their mouths clashing with huffs and moans that you echoed through the twitches. The toy fell away from your clit when Bucky’s hand moved to grip the back of Steve’s neck, pulling him closer. 

“Daddy-” You whimpered, flexing your hands against the restraints. Steve pulled away and looked at you, his head leaning to the side where Bucky moved it so he could attack the skin on his neck. “Please.”

The grin on Steve’s lips was possessive, and he forced Bucky back and out of his space. “Fuck her, go on. Make her cum again around that big cock of yours.”

“Fuck,” Bucky whined, moving quickly and handing the toy to Steve. “Here, use it.” His weight settled on your open hips and he smiled down at you, his hand brushing the hair from your forehead. “You alright, sweetheart?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, nodding. “Fuck me, daddy.”

Fabric flew and you glanced down to see Bucky’s hard cock bobbing in place as he fisted it, twisting over the head and his breath hitched. “Hold on, kitten,” he warned, and you grinned blearily, blinking at him. “‘Cos I’m gonna fuck you into the mattress.”

“Oh- Fuck!” The girth of Bucky’s cock burned and you gasped, the sound loud over Bucky’s shuddering moan.

“You’re so fuckin’ wet, doll, fuckin’ hell,” he groaned, the slight twitch of his hips as he seated himself to the hilt made your eyes flutter. “You’re alright, baby girl, you’re okay,” he whispered, kissing your neck softly. 

A moment passed where Bucky just whispered soft praises and reassurances, and finally, you mumbled, “Move–you can move.”

Bucky grunted, and slammed his hips forward. “You feel so fuckin’ good, kitten, s’good for daddy,” he moaned, his hips building a steady, deep rhythm. “Stevie, baby, use it.”

There was a rustle and a hand on your hip suddenly. Bucky lifted up onto his hands, his biceps and shoulders rippling, when you felt the toy back on your clit. “Oh, god, no-”

“Yes,” Bucky grit out, thrusting sharply and making you squeak. “Fuckin’ yes, and you’re gonna take it like the good girl you are, aren’t you?”

“Daddy!” You cried, the toy buzzing to life and sending a jolt of pleasure straight to the already tightening coil. “Fuck!”

“That’s it, call him,” Steve praised, and you felt his hand move to cup the front of your throat. “Such a good girl for Bucky, so proud of you–just layin’ there and taking it like a good fucktoy, huh?”

“Jesus, Stevie,” Bucky gasped, shuddering. “Say that again, she’s close and she’s fuckin’ forcin’ me out.” A loud grunt came from somewhere above you and you cried out. “There we go, kitten–let daddy in, tha’s it.”

Bucky’s hips ground against yours, and you moaned loudly, pulling at the ropes. “Wanna cum again, please, daddy, need your cock–wanna cum on your cock,” you babbled, and Bucky huffed.

“Keep talkin’ like that and I won’t last, kitten, fuck,” he breathed, his hips picking up speed. The toy picked up speed, too. “Can fucking feel that toy on my dick, baby,” he continued, grinning over at Steve. “Turn it up while I fuck her into the mattress.”

The words registered a second too late, and your ass was pushed into the covers with Bucky’s pace – his hips pistoned in and out of your heat like a jackhammer and you screamed, arching your back while Bucky panted against your neck. “Can feel you squeezin’ me, kitten. Cum for me–want you to cum on my cock, now, c’mon. Be a good girl and give it to daddy.”

“Ohmygod,” you gasped, writhing in Steve’s grip. “Please, I’m gonna- Fuck! Fuck, please!”

The waves pulled you under, and your mouth fell open in a silent scream, your second climax whiting out your vision. 

“Oh, fuck,” Bucky groaned, his hips faltering. “Jesus, baby girl, good girl–good fuckin’ girl, lemme in, lemme in your perfect pussy.”

Warmth bloomed in your cunt and you whimpered, just as Bucky shouted hoarsely into your shoulder, his hips lazily pumping his cock into your heat with slick noises. The toy came away and fell silent, and Bucky took that opportunity to rest his weight on your hips, his face tucked into your neck while he panted for breath. 

“You two need to fuck more often,” Steve said suddenly. “Daddy loves a good show, and you two are fucking perfect.”

You sighed happily and Bucky grinned against the skin of your neck, still pumping his hips shallowly. “Well, what’re you waitin’ for?” Bucky questioned, and you felt his legs part over you, and his ass canted up into the air, his cock pulling back out of you slightly. “‘M right here, baby.”

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

[icypenguin]

★~ Biker!Wriothesley x Baker!Reader

- ofcourse visits you everyday!! mostly in the night though. he always order an americano and you sometimes slip in a treat for him (you try to not make anyone notice).

- HE LIKES TO FLIRT WITH YOU INFRONT OF YOUR CO-WORKERS. like legit dude will try to embarrass you by claiming you’re his.

- sometimes you come to his illegal motorbike tournament.. but you’re always there to support him. you often bring a left over treat from your bakery since it’s better to atleast try to eat the cold goodies instead of throwing it in the trash… right?

- if you got the last shift of the day, he always wait for you ‘till you’re done so he can give you a ride home. giving you a ride home doesn’t mean home ‘home’ but ofcourse going to some other places first! And yeah you arrive at home atleast 2 hours after he ‘took you a ride home’.

- you two met up when his friend introduced him to a cozy cafe (that you’re working at) and ofcourse he was underestimating you😭. but yk enemies to lovers whatsoever

- you used to be scared of motorcycles since they go fast fast. but whenver you both go out, it only felt comforting. he always make sure you wrap your arms around him real tight T-T

- one time out of nowhere you tried to make him a motorbike cream on his coffee but it turned out like a horse instead…

~ ficlet ~

a bell was heard from the door, signaling someone entered the cafe. ofcourse your mind got to a guy, a guy who always order the same drink everyday. It was late in the night anyway, noone would come in this specific time except him. you got into the cashier position and notice him opening his helmet. “if it isn’t my pretty girl who awaits for me” he greeted with a wink. to your embarrassment you rolled your eyes playfully and gave him his order since you already made him one. you knew what time he will arrive so why not make it an instant order? special only for him. “just like the usual I know, I know” “what’s so bad about it?” “you’re too monotone you know..” he chuckled as he took a sip of the americano. that bickering of you two got away for too long it passed the closing time for the cafe. “oh shoot! I’m supposed to close this minutes ago-!” you tried to hurry up and tidy everything meanwhile he was chilling out, sipping his cup of americano that has gone cold. “perhaps you could open it an hour or two..” “yeah maybe if I was the owner!” after atleast 15 minutes, you eventually close the shop and exited. the streets were only filled with the light of the street lamp. not much cars were passing by, it was a calm. that’s only when wrio started his motorcycle, the sound of it interrupting the cricket sound. “sooo you wanna just stand there or what?” you got back into realization and noticed he was already there, waiting for you. “Oh yeah right..” You hang on to him tight as your cheeks got squished onto his back. he started the motorcycle and headed to the park like usual. just then you noticed the stars were fully covering the dark night as the moon shined bright upon the streets. you felt comfort in the night, especially when he’s with you.

[kaciidubs]

Hii! Omg first of all I love your works! Seconddd I was wondering if I could request fem reader being needy while bangchan is busy working on music so he has her riding his thigh to get off ?

Hello Nonnie!! Thank you so much, I'm glad you've read them! And of course you can! I'm a sucker for this concept so I hope you enjoy~

Work from Home

❣ Summary: On nights like these, you were thankful Chris was able to take his work anywhere he wanted. ❣  ❣ Word Count: 2.8k ❣ Warnings: Pleasure Dom! Chris, Sub! Reader, daddy kink, dacryphilia, thigh riding, a lot of begging, praise, degradation, reader is extremely needy, comfort, allusions to multiple rounds ❣  ❣ Female! Reader [No use of Y/N] | You/Your pronouns ❣  ❣ Additional Tags: Chan is referred to as Chris, Channie, and Baby, Reader is referred to as Baby, Princess, Good Girl, and Slut, a lot of word 'please' being used, Chris calls himself Daddy ❣ Stray Kids Masterlist ❣ General Masterlist

Chris was a busy man, you understood that the same as about 99% of the population who knew of him; he was the leader of seven darling, crazy boys, the leader of the 4th generation of Kpop, a writer, composer, lyricist, computer programmer, amongst the numerous other titles he had hidden in his extensive resume.

Chris was also your boyfriend; silly, kind, obnoxiously good looking, bashful, caring, insanely good at making omelets, hot, great with kids, animal lover, dad joke aficionado, and did you mention drop dead gorgeous?

Especially when he was making music?

It was one of the few nights he opted to bring his work home with him, toting his gray macbook as he shuffled through your shared apartment’s front door, offering you a shy apology as he told you he needed to work on a few more tracks throughout the evening.

Of course you brushed off his needless apology with a smile - even though you liked for him to have a break from work whenever he was home, you ultimately knew there’d be late nights of editing and schedule reviewing that he couldn’t avoid - and told him you had no problem with occupying yourself until it was time for the coveted “which takeout menu are we ordering from tonight” game.

But, damn, did he always look that sexy in that black t-shirt you’d seen time and time again? And did his lips always have that subtle shine to them or did he reapply chapstick in the car - god, did he lick them?

“No problem, baby - I’ll come get you for dinner, ‘kay?” You watched as his previous worry melted into gratefulness, stepping forward to press a kiss to your temple before making his way to your shared bedroom.

Maybe, just maybe, his plan of working from home wasn’t the best mode of action - not that it was his fault in the slightest, of course not! 

But you knew how you got at the sight of him working on his music, headphones on so as to not disturb you - even though you were in two completely different rooms - and he knew that you loved watching him in his element, admiration set in those pretty eyes of yours.

Shaking yourself out of whatever horny stupor that decided fog your brain, you confined yourself to doing whatever it took to keep yourself occupied and away from your slightly workaholic boyfriend; tidying up the living room, washing what little dishes were left in the sink, even going so far as attempting the new season of the anime you were neglecting.

An hour.

One hour.

You felt like you were going crazy, your body hot and strung like a freshly crafted bowstring, the first episode of your anime currently on pause as you stared at the slightly ajar door of your bedroom; keen ears picking up the subtle key taps of his laptop.

God, what you wouldn’t give to have those long, pretty fingers of his on you, in you. He was probably focused too, his plump lips set into a pout, his eyebrows slightly pinched as if he were mad at something, but it was simply him trying to keep the hundreds of ideas in his head together.

Throwing your head back in exasperated whine, you quickly came to terms with the options laid before you; A) force yourself to sit through three 35 minute episodes and give him the space he deserves, or B) take matters into your own hands.

Your body must have made up your mind for you as you suddenly found yourself two steps away from the bedroom door, hand reaching out to push the door wider - welcoming yourself to a sight that made your heart and pussy flutter.

Chris was currently propped against the headboard, two pillows used to support his back as he supported his laptop on his thighs- god, his thighs.

There wasn’t a day where you weren’t thinking about them, especially when he was wearing his staple pair of black shorts that not only accentuated the sculpted muscles but highlighted that amazing ass of his - the same shorts he was currently wearing now, in fact.

You were drooling in more ways than one, hungrily staring at the exposed skin as if you’d never been exposed to them before.

“Baby?”

His soft call for you was enough for your heated gaze to meet his gentle eyes, squinted a little from the strain of staring at the screen of his laptop.

“You okay? Wanna figure out what to eat now?”

Shaking your head, you finally willed yourself to walk further into the room, hands going to the waistband of your sleep shorts as you unceremoniously stripped them off - leaving you in a simple pair of cotton panties, definitely not the pair that screamed “take me now”, but that was the least of your concerns.

Chris’ eyes widened, flicking between the discarded shorts, your partially bare lower half, and your face, “Princess? What-”

“I need you.” The whine came desperate from your lips as you crawled onto the foot of the bed.

Chris’ heart clenched, his pulse racing from the sight of you - pupils blown and fogged with lust - sitting on your calves with what he could only describe as pure submission, waiting for his acceptance to your invitation. He wanted you too, there was honestly rarely a moment when he didn’t want you, but he was just at the peak of his creative flow and he didn’t want to treat you to a half assed session in the sheets because his head was elsewhere.

“I… Princess, you know I love you, and I love that you love me, but-” An apologetic frown curved his lips, the coming words making him feel like a terrible boyfriend, “I-I’m so close to finishing this, there isn’t enough time-”

“Channie, please? Fuck, please? Please, please, I’m so turned on it hurts,” you nearly sobbed, your aching pussy throbbing now that his presence was near and so, so close to satiating your craving. “You don’t even have to fuck me - I can just ride you?  You can finger me? Eat me out? I’ll do anything - I- I-” Your tear lined eyes flicked to his thighs, taking in the expanse that his laptop didn’t cover, “-I’ll ride your thigh? Y-You don’t even have to stop working! Just- Just make it stop, daddy, please.”

His face softened, and he wasn’t ignorant to the twitch in his shorts at your proposition; his laptop didn’t take that much room for you to be able to get comfortable on one of his thighs, and even if it did he could just put it at an angle - it wasn’t that big of a deal, not when his girlfriend was in such dire need for relief.

“You wanna ride daddy’s thigh?” A soft grin stretched his lips when you nodded hastily, lips set into a pout. “Okay, princess, come ‘ere.”

Your panties were slid off in record time, left in a puddle at the foot of the bed as you made your way to his lap. It took a few moments of repositioning, Chris tugging up the loose fabric on his right thigh for you to straddle it, hovering over the muscle and practically vibrating with anticipation.

“Look at you,” he cooed as he adjusted the decorative pillow supporting the other half of his laptop, “so fucked out of that pretty brain of yours, yet you still wait for daddy’s permission.” Once he was satisfied with the balance, his warm eyes found yours and he cocked his head to the side, “Gimme a kiss, princess.”

Leaning forward, you happily met his soft lips with your own and - shit, he did reapply that cherry chapstick - a shiver ran down your spine as a moan vibrated in your throat, fingers curling in his shirt in an effort to pull him closer.

You could feel his lips curl into a smirk, parting just so your noses and foreheads were still touching.

“Go on, make yourself feel good on me, yeah? I promise I’ll fuck you right when I’m done.”

Sighing a shaky breath, you finally lowered yourself onto the firm muscle of this thigh, choking on a moan from the delicious pressure on your clit, feeding the fire raging in your lower stomach. “F-Fuck- Feels so good, daddy.”

Chris hummed in acknowledgement before bringing his attention to the backing track currently waiting for him - just a few more edits, maybe another sample or two, then he’d be all yours, he promised.

You moved your hips at a testing pace, shivering at the short glide your puddling arousal made on his skin before fully committing to the movement; pressing yourself harder against his leg with the tried and true method; forward, back, forward, back, forward with a little grind, then back again. To keep yourself steady, you held his shoulder with your right hand while your left gripped high on his thigh, fingertips just barely grazing the area of his crotch.

“Daddy.” Your lips parted in a breathy moan, head lolling back as you let yourself get lost in the pleasure.

“Baby, a little quieter, please.”

You didn’t even notice the typing happening beside you, or the subtle shift in Chris’ demeanor until you brought your head back up again, eyes locked in on his illuminated face - and, most importantly, his concentrated pout.

Another wave of arousal flowed from your cunt, making the grind of your hips that much easier as you watched him. “But- Daddy, it feels good, why-”

“Because I’m still working, baby girl,” he didn’t even bother side eyeing you, eyes flitting around the screen in search of another asset, “if you can’t control yourself then you can get off and wait until I’m done.”

Your heart clenched, nails digging into the cotton of his sweatpants as you shook your head, “N-No! No, I’ll be quiet, I’ll be good.”

“Good girl.”

The only sign of good graces he gave you was a subtle flex of his thigh that had you curling forward, nearly knocking your head into his shoulder until you steadied yourself again.

A soft, slow breath fell from your lips before you went back to focusing on the hypnotic forward, back of your hips, rolling them in a way akin to the way you would if you were riding his dick - something you were currently aware of making a tent in his shorts.

‘I promise I’ll fuck you right when I’m done.’

Your hips stuttered, walls clenching helplessly around nothing as you remembered his promise - his guarantee of fucking you until the only thing going through your mind is him.

Choking back a whimper, you rode his thigh with a new fire - shivering breaths escaping you with each subtle tense of his thigh and every odd drag of his skin against your budding clit.

Soon, with the help of your overactive imagination and a few shifts from Chris, you found yourself at the peak of your climax, teetering just on the edge but nothing was quite enough to push you over; your thighs were tense and sore, muscles burning as your poor, neglected pussy begged for something more than the repetitive grinding.

Blinking away the heavy fog of lust blurring your vision, you lifted your head to look at the man in front of you, heart skipping a beat as he looked completely unbothered from the act happening in front of him - if you hadn’t known any better, you would have thought he wasn’t even interested in you, but the blush taking over his ears and neck were telltale signs he was.

“C-Channie…” Your voice was weak, wavering from your tireless efforts at getting the high you oh so desperately needed.

“A few more minutes, baby, I just need to play it back and-”

“Channie, no, please, I-” Breath hitching, ultimately growing frustrated by his nonchalant attitude, you pressed on, “I can’t, ‘s not enough - please, please, help me?”

His jaw tensed and you knew you struck a nerve, his eyes snapping to yours for the first time since you entered the bedroom.

“It’s not enough? Baby girl,” he tutted, huffing a breath through his nose, “you were the one who came in here whining like a needy little slut, soaking wet without me having to even lay a finger on you - let alone be in the same room - and now what you begged for isn’t enough?”

Despite his scolding, the motions of your hips didn’t falter - if anything, they sped up, grew firmer as you continued to drive for your orgasm.

“Daddy, I-” A small sniffle escaped you, tears from being pent up for the past 30 minutes welling in your eyes and trailing down your cheeks, “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it! I- I need you - need your touch, need your cock, n-need you to help me, please!”

The speed at which he tossed his laptop to the side should have had you worried about the hard drives taped to the back, but you weren’t - not when he was finally paying attention to you, touching you, indulging in you.

His large hands dripped the plush of your hips, immediately dragging them into a longer, faster pattern that had you keening in his hold; your head tipping back in a loud, unabashed moan.

“Poor princess can’t do anything without her daddy helping, huh? I thought I gave you everything you needed, too.” He spoke in a hushed tone, as if he were voicing his grievances out to himself as he dragged you - nearly bouncing you - against his thigh. “I let you use my thigh like some fucking toy while I worked, I helped you adjust, I helped you get there, but it still wasn’t good enough - not for a spoiled princess like you.”

Chris’ bruising grip slid down to your ass, squeezing the flesh before raising his right hand to land a smack against the swell of the cheek.

A surprised yelp escaped you, your left hand now holding onto his other shoulder for dear life, the heat of his strong stare making your pussy quiver.

“C-Chri- Daddy- Daddy, can I - fuck- I-I need- inside-”

“No.” He licked his lips, fixing you with a domineering gaze, “You’re gonna come using my thigh, and my thigh only, just like you wanted.” You let out a whine of disdain and he raised his eyebrow, poking his cheek with his tongue before cocking his head to the side. “Oh? But, princess, that’s what you wanted - that’s what you came to me for, begged me for, so that’s what I’m giving you, now fucking come like the good little slut you are.”

You gasped, body stilling as his words fell from his mouth and went straight to your cunt, pushing you into the orgasm you’ve been craving for so, so long. “D-Daddy! Daddy! I’m c- ah!”

He guided your hips into a short grind, helping you ride out your orgasm as your cum further coated his dripping thigh - he was sure some of it even trailed around the sides and stained the sheets underneath, but that was a problem he’d handle in a few more hours.

“There you go, that’s my girl - my good girl.” He cooed, eyes trained on your face currently enraptured in bliss, the tension melting from your body with each ragged breath you took. “That’s it, princess.”

Your hips stilled once you finally came down, laying your head against his shoulder with a tired huff and melting further into his body.

“You okay, princess?” Chris hummed softly, arms coming up to wrap around your waist, “Didn’t take it too far, did I? Wasn’t too much?”

You hummed, shaking your head as you turned to lay on your cheek, lips gracing his warm neck, “Nuh uh, daddy, it wasn’t too far - I liked it, ‘m okay.”

“Good.” He brought a hand up to softly massage the back of your neck, essentially cradling you against him.

A few moments passed before you sat up, a little less foggy-headed and more at ease with the handsome man you had the honor to call your boyfriend. “Okay, Channie, you can go back to work - ‘m sorry for distracting you.”

His eyes widened a bit before he looked askance, hands falling to your bare thighs as he cleared his throat, “Ah, well, I… sort of… finished it a few minutes before you asked for my help to get you to come - I was just clicking around to see if you could actually get off just from grinding on me.”

He expected you to lash out at him, for telling a white lie just to see if you could finish without his help, but when he looked back at you all he could see was an all too familiar sparkle in your eyes - the lips he wanted to kiss ever since you came into the bedroom curling into a smile.

“So you… You can make good on your promise?”

Chris chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief before glancing back at you, a familiar glint in his eyes making you shiver. “Oh, princess, you know I always keep my promises, especially to you.”

[challenger-fan-club]

You keep sub!Patrick around the house, like a live in fuck toy. Patrick is in fact a lapdog who will wait around to be dismissed.

"How was your day?" He kissed you as you got in and took your jacket off. "Yeah it was okay." You looked around. "You didn't want to do your chores today?" He looked slightly guilty. "I got distracted, I was playing games with Art most of the day." He looked at the games console connected to the Tv. Just switched off but still emitting a warm aura around it. "You know what happens when a good boy doesn't follow his orders?" He bit his lip slightly. He knew this would happen. "Do I need to remind you of the rules?" He shook his head as he took a seat on the couch. "Firstly, you need to keep the house tidy." You straddled his lap a little and his hands instinctively push along your thigh. "Secondly... you're not allowed to play with yourself. Did you? Did you touch that big aching cock of yours?" He pushed his head into your chest and didn't say anything. "You're looking so fucking guilty right now." You pulled his dark curly hair back so he could see you. "I'm getting the feeling that my naughty puppy was playing with his cock all day long, even when you know the rules." He nodded his head whilst you were holding his hair. "Now you know I have to punish you." He bit his bottom lip as you pulled his hair back further. "Come on, bed."

He lay on the bed. "I'm going to lie up your hands, so you can't touch me." You explain as you get the ties from the drawer. "And i'm going to tie up your feet to the bed and I'm going to use you like the little fuck toy you are." Patrick knew what to do and took all his clothes off. He was hard just from the hair pulling and straddling on the couch. He couldn't help himself. You pulled off your dress and put your chest right in his face as you start to tie him to the bed. He was almost slobbering at the sight. "Poor baby. All tied up." You looked at him as you finish tying him to the bed. "Baby, you're cocks so hard... this is supposed to be a punishment. Do you like being punished?" He nodded his head over and over. "Of course you do, you like it when mommys all mean to you. You like being mommys little toy?" He whined as he was leaking already. His mouth was open as he was watching you. "You wanna suck on my fingers?" He couldn't speak as you slap his face. "You wanna suck something else?" You run your fingers over the outside of your bra before pulling your tits out. Patrick whined as you kneel beside him. "You wanna taste me?" You tease him much more. "If you had been a good boy and listened to the rules, you could have whatever you want." He whined as you ran your fingers around his mouth, tracing the stubble. He wanted to suck them so badly. "Such a bad boy, maybe I will use you."

You placed your legs at each other side of his head. He moaned as you hovered over his face, just holding your pussy out of his reach. "You gonna be good, make mommy feel good?" He whined. He wasn't allowed to talk, he wanted to beg but he didn't want to break any rules. "I'm going to use your pretty mouth." You started grinding against his face. You watched his cock twitch as you moaned whilst he was sucking your clit. "Get me really wet, spit all over it." You rode his face watching is cock strain for some traction. "God, you love getting punished don't you?" He moved quicker trying to please you. "I think you broke the rules on purpose because you fucking love being punished. You love being used like a little whooore." You moan in between your words as you keep going, he moans against you. He loves the taste of you, he doesn't want to stop. He wants you to let him cum so he's trying to prove he should be allowed to.

"Mmmm, I think I should use your cock, like it's my own personal dildo." Patrick whined at your words under you. "You'd like that, wouldn't you." He whined more, vibrations going through you. You switch positions and place yourself over yourself over his cock. He moans at not having you on his face, he missed it already, he wanted to make you cum all over his face but he didn't have the chance. "You want me to use your cock." He nodded as he watched you. "You'd love to have your hands all over me, wouldn't you." You teased him as you started to ride him. "But you can't, because you've already used your hands to please yourself." He whimpered over and over. He wanted to beg for you to remove the ties, he wanted to cum for you. "Insteaaad, I just have to use you." You kept riding him, faster and faster, making him look at you as you ride him. "You wanna cum already?" you ride him faster. "You're so pathetic, you want to cum in my tight little pussy when you've already made yourself cum today. WITHOUT permission" You slap his face again and it spurred Patrick on. He wanted to please you over and over. You placed your hand on his neck and squeezed, feeling him twitch inside you. You released and he was breathing deep. "Thats it baby, deep breaths." You put your fingers in his mouth as you ride him, teasing him, calling him a poor fuck toy, being used. "You're so fucking naughty, disgusting and i get to use this fucking cock." You ride him harder and harder. "You want to beg to cum so badly don't you?" You slowed down and kept his cock inside you. You squeezed as you held him. He was buckling and wanted you to keep going. "You're so good, you wanna cum for me?" Patrick was almost crying as you held him around you.

"God, I can't be mad at you for too long." you sat down on his cock and pushed it against your g-spot. "I'm going to untie your hands..." You explained as you rocked slowly on his cock. "Then I want you to fuck me as hard as you want. I want you to make me cum like a good boy." You lean forward and undo his ties and watch the blood regain in his arms as he does as you say. "you're mad at mommy? Fuck me as hard as you want and I'll consider letting you cum." He fucks harder and faster than he could before. He almost drools watching your chest bounce as you moan as you say how good he's making you feel. He bounces you and you pull his hair and he moans as you moan on his cock. "I want you to fill me... you're going to make me feel so good, yes you're so good. keep going, harder. HARDER." Patrick almost exhausts himself as you ride him and demand that he fucks you harder. You finally explode around him and he can't hold it. "Good boy, cum for me." Tears are almost streaming down his face as he cums. "You're gonna be a good boy from now on right?" He moans and nods his head.