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tired-biscuit · 6 months

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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.

#biscuit fics #naruto smut #naruto x reader #kiba smut #kiba x reader #kiba inuzuka smut #kiba inuzuka x reader #cw monsterfucking #kiba inuzuka

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wr0n9way · 2 years

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Bathroom Sauna (Munich)

#Ideas for a massive country stone slab Bathroom remodel with a wall-mount toilet #brown walls #brown cabinets #a trough sink #granite countertops #and a freestanding vanity. Brown floor #single-sink #tray ceiling #wood wall #and wood-look tile floor. naturstein #ziegelverblender #dusche #felsen #wc #wellness

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riki-dazed · 5 months

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softdom!riki just wants to get you off

NSFW · smut · block if ur uncomfy <3 wc: 774 · requested

You hummed in contentment as Riki's arms drew your body closer into his, the warmth of his embrace in which enveloped your figure allowed for a feeling of comfort, and security, to settle upon your mind. With your back pressed to his torso, he shuffled his seated body against the headboard of his bed, searching for a more comfortable position as your hands clung to his forearm.

Riki's room was filled with a comforting silence, your gazes fixed on the television mounted on the wall; the quiet hum of it only added to the calming atmosphere. There was nothing more you loved than spending your time doing absolutely nothing with your boyfriend.

A small smile appeared across your lips as you felt Riki's fingers creep beneath the fabric of your tank top. With a quiet hum, he pressed his warm palm against the skin on your chest, his touch as gentle as ever.

At last, his quiet voice had broken the silence, "It's so slow." He was referring to your heartbeat, in which he could feel beneath his touch.

You shifted your gaze over your shoulder, which had caused Riki's eyes to soon find yours. A look of pure endearment was nestled deep within them as the both of you held eye contact.

A sheepish smile found its way to your mouth, "Because I'm calm, and happy~"

Instead of replying, Riki leaned down into you, his lips coming into contact with your own in a delicate, tender kiss. You didn't expect anything more than a swift exchange of pecks, though, butterflies began to dance within your stomach as you came to a sudden realization.

Riki's impeccably soft lips continued to gently linger against yours.

The feeling of having him take your bottom lip between his teeth had caused your chest to rise out of surprise, he was turning you into complete putty.

Whilst ever so sightly breathless, you pulled away from his lips, your eyes suddenly focusing back on his hand that was settled on your chest. As Riki's lips kept you busy, and completely oblivious, that same hand had managed to travel down your torso unnoticed. Your eyes watched Riki's hand carefully as he slipped his fingers past the hem of your shorts, and eventually, underneath the fabric of your panties.

"What are you—" Your words trailed off into a gasp as you felt Riki's cold touch against you, the feeling had caused a rush of heat to curse throughout your veins.

His actions spoke louder than any words could have in the moment, and although you couldn't see it, a self-satisfied grin adorned his breathtaking features behind you.

"Riki.." You were a squirming mess within his embrace, even though he had barely begun to trail small circles against you. Shivers cascaded down your spine as he hushed you in response, his voice reassuring, and tender beside your ear.

As his fingers continued to explore you, you found yourself torn between protest, and surrender.

Riki tilted his head, drawing his face closer to where your ear was. The huskiness behind his whispered words caused another surge of electricity to shoot through your body.

"Relax, love, let me take care of you," He murmured beside your ear, in which had caused your chest to tighten, just as your grip on his arm did.

Those words were all you needed to hear in order to allow yourself to completely let go, finally succumbing to his touch. Your mouth fell agape as the pace of Riki's fingers intensified, the sounds of your wet arousal had begun to mingle with the gentle hum of the television in the background. Your heels dug into the soft covers of his bed, your body jolting within his embrace.

"Doing so well for me." You could hear the smirk behind his words.

A string of curses escaped your mouth as he pushed you over the edge, your senses became completely overwhelmed, the tight knot within your abdomen unravelling.

Slightly covered in your arousal, Riki's hand found it's way back to where it had originally began its journey, on your chest. A playful glint danced within his gaze as he kept his hand in place, enjoying the feeling of your suddenly quickened heartbeat beneath his touch.

He chuckled, "Not so slow anymore, huh?"

You were left a panting mess as Riki followed his playful remark with a gentle kiss atop your head, his arms snaked around your figure, "Good job, my baby."

Not sure of what to make of the situation, you were left somewhat dumbfounded as his gaze shifted back onto the TV like nothing had ever happened.

...

740 notes · View notes

rottiens · 1 month

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A LOVELY TOUCH┊ISAGI YOICHI

✮ summary. meeting his parents and being in his room for the first time allows you to get to know another side of isagi that you hadn't discovered before.

✮ tags. (18+), established relationship, unprotected sex + creampie, fem reader, petnames, sex toys, praising (that’s my girl), spit, dirty talk. divider creds: cafekitsune.

✮ wc. 4.3k

Isagi's room is just as you had pictured it in your imagination. The walls are decorated with soccer posters, of some anime with rather colorful characters and of some soccer players you vaguely recognize from having seen them on your phone. The bed is impeccably made, with a navy blue bedspread that matches the two pillows perfectly lined up on top. Next to the bed, a nightstand holds a stack of comics and manga that you fail to identify until you get close enough. In front of the bed, a wall-mounted television is connected to a playstation, ready to be used.

The room, in general, is surprisingly tidy, almost too tidy to be Isagi's. The thought that he probably cleaned neatly because he knew you'd be staying over tonight brings a smile to your face. Throughout your relationship, you had always met at your place or at the hotels he stays at when you visit him out of town, so to be here, in a space that is entirely his, sends a tingle through your stomach that stirs the hunger of your curiosity.

As you flip through the monochromatic pages of one of the manga, you hear the sound of his footsteps approaching down the hallway. The floorboards groan under his weight, and your heart pounds, as if you've been caught doing something wrong. A smile spreads across your face as you see him standing in the doorframe, his silhouette blocking the light coming in from the hallway, giving him an almost cinematic air.

Isagi mimics your smile, mirroring it as he closes the door behind him and steps into the space you now share. It is at that moment that you notice the subtle scent of sandalwood wafting through the air, permeating the atmosphere. The room, completely enclosed and with thick curtains blocking the outside light, has maintained this scent throughout the day.

"What do you think, then?" asks Isagi, with a slight tension in his voice that makes you wonder if his heart is beating as fast as yours.

Isagi's parents turned out to be even more charming than you had imagined. His mother insisted on adding another dish to dinner, even though you had offered to cook for everyone; she even offered to help you wash the dishes, while Mr. Isagi and your boyfriend continued chatting in the dining room a few feet away.

The feeling you are left with is one of warmth and comfort, like a warm blanket wrapped around you after a long winter's day. And that's what you're trying to express, albeit in a simpler, less corny way.

"…I'm happy to have finally met them," you conclude sincerely.

Isagi, who has just hung up his jacket in the closet and is now wearing only a shirt and dark sweatpants, walks up to you and wraps his strong arms around your waist. With the manga completely forgotten, your hands find rest on the back of his neck, and out of instinct, you start stroking his hair. Isagi visibly relaxes at your loving touch.

"'Yeah? I think they really liked you, I was nervous," he says, laughing softly.

"Really, you thought they wouldn't like me?" you tease as Isagi closes his eyes, enjoying your touch.

"Quite the opposite. I thought they might like you more than me," he replies, meeting your eyes again, causing a sparkle to tingle up from your belly to your ribs.

"Your mom is so nice, and your dad is so cool. I think it's adorable how they support you."

It's obvious how proud they are of their son, how far he's come. That was reflected in every topic of conversation they had tonight and in the way their eyes sparkled at the sight of him. Deep down, you're relieved to have their approval, too.

"I had no doubt they would like you. My mother loved the dessert you made too, you're cooking so much better every time."

Isagi guides you towards the bed, interrupting the conversation. He lies down first and invites you to join him with a few pats on the mattress. You crawl onto the bedspread, which stays perfectly in place despite the movement, and lie comfortably on the arm he has extended for you.

"I'm gonna stay all weekend," he says, playing with the silver "I" dangling from your neck. Your eyes instantly light up, and Isagi struggles to contain a mischievous smile that threatens to appear at the corners of his lips.

"You hadn't told me," you murmur, controlling the excitement in your voice. "I thought you had to leave tomorrow."

"'Yeah, I wanted to surprise you." His fingers fiddle with your collarbone and the line of your neck as he says it, only to finally focus his full attention on you.

He watches your reaction closely, delighted that he got this reaction in person, knowing it wouldn't be the same if he'd told you about it over the phone. Then, he leans toward you and kisses you softly on the lips, a fleeting kiss after which he doesn't pull away, allowing you to become drunk on the fresh, woody scent that surrounds him.

"We could go out tomorrow, maybe invite your parents over again and…" you start to suggest, but Isagi interrupts you with another soft kiss that instantly makes you close your eyes. Your hand rests on his chest, feeling his heart dance against his ribs, as his palm rests on your waist.

"I'd love the idea, but right now I don't wanna do anything but hold you close."

The physical contact instantly ignites your skin, and the tone of his voice alerts your senses to what might be coming. But you're still curious to explore more of his space, so you add, "Your room…" he chuckles, probably guessing what you're going to say next. "It's very organized."

"Does that surprise you?" Not really, but the attention to detail does. Everything looks impeccable, you know he's put a lot of thought into it. "I've learned a few things about keeping my place in order with Barou."

"Oh, yeah, you guys were roommates before."

"Uh huh. He wanted to kill me when he found my shoes where they were not supposed to be, or my jacket on the couch when I got home late from training."

You laugh at the mental image of an angry Barou chasing Isagi with his shoes in hand around the apartment, though you remain aware of Isagi's touch, of how his fingers gently trace lines on the skin of your stomach, which your now somewhat disheveled top reveals.

The room is enveloped in a comfortable silence, broken only by the faint whisper of the fan on the ceiling. You've settled into his chest, with his heartbeat providing a steady, soothing rhythm that almost lulls you to sleep. Yet your eyes roam the room with a newfound curiosity, lingering on details you had previously overlooked, as if you want to unravel a little more of what this space can reveal to you about him.

Near the door, the closet remains ajar, revealing a glimpse of its interior. The shirts are lined up with almost millimeter precision, but it's the bottom corner that captures your attention. Between a pair of worn sneakers and a backpack that has seen better days, a cardboard box with worn corners peeks out, partially hidden.

Your curiosity piqued, you sit up slightly, trying not to disturb the moment.

"What's that?" you ask quietly, pointing to the box with a slight nod of your head.

Isagi follows the direction of your gaze and sketches a shy smile, as if you've found something he'd forgotten. "Oh, that… it's just a box with some old things, souvenirs and such."

His answer is simple, but his tone piques your interest even more. You slide gently from his side, the mattress emitting a slight creak under your weight as you stand up. " Can I see it?" you ask, wariness mingling with growing curiosity.

Isagi chuckles softly, shaking his head with a mixture of resignation and amusement. "Sure, but there's not much, really."

You make your way to the closet and kneel down in front of the box. You carefully pull it out, surprised by its unexpected weight. You place it on the floor in front of you and, as you lift the lid, a rush of nostalgia seems to flood the air.

Inside, you find a variety of objects: a pair of soccer tickets yellowed by time, photos of a younger Isagi alongside friends you don't recognize, and a scarf of his favorite team, still vibrant in its colors. There's a small trophy, probably from some school competition, and a keychain that looks like it was purchased on his first major trip away from home. Each object seems to be loaded with history and meaning, as if they were pieces of a puzzle that together reveal the essence of who he is now.

Your fingers stop on one photograph in particular, where a teenage Isagi smiles broadly, holding a ball with his hand raised in victory. Beside him, a childhood friend embraces him with the same energy. The happiness on his face is so genuine that you can't help but smile too.

"This is adorable," you say, holding up the photo so Isagi can see it from the bed.

He gets up and comes over to you, sitting down next to you on the floor. "That was a good time," he comments, his voice laden with nostalgia as he takes the photo from your hands to look at it more closely. "We won that match by sheer luck, but it was one of the best days of my life."

Your attention is diverted to another object in the box, a small notebook with worn edges. You delicately open it, finding inside scribbles, small drawings and notes that Isagi probably wrote when he was a teenager.

"You've kept all this for how long?" you ask, fascinated by the amount of memories he's accumulated.

"Since forever, I think," he replies, laughing lightly. "I'm not one to usually hold on to the past, but some things are worth keeping. I like to remember them from time to time."

You close the notebook and put it back in the box, feeling like you've just discovered a side of Isagi you may not have been fully aware of. As you do so, something else at the bottom of the box catches your eye. It's the thick edge of what appears to be a red book. Curiosity leads you to slide your fingers along it and pull it out for a better look. The objects on top offer resistance, but without giving up, you manage to pull it out.

"Oh," Isagi murmurs as you realize that it's not a book you've pulled out, but a stack of magazines that, under the light of the bulb, reveal their true nature.

"Yoichi?" you ask, covering your mouth with your hand to contain the laughter bubbling in your stomach while at the same time showing the magazine in his direction.

"Fuck." His cheeks flush red, and you've never seen him so nervous. Immediately, he tries to snatch them from you, wrestling you with the box in between.

"Let me see them!" you laugh, louder this time, enjoying the rare sight of seeing him so distressed.

"Stop, it's embarrassing! Don't open them!" he insists, desperate, as you try to wriggle away from him, the porn magazines now scattered around you.

In the struggle, his foot buckles and he loses his balance, falling on top of you and crushing you to the floor. Your hands are trapped above your head, imprisoned, and the magazines fall open, revealing their stained pages beside you.

" Can I explain?" he says, his voice trembling between embarrassment and nervous laughter.

"Well?" you ask, biting your lip to keep from laughing again.

You watch him as he struggles to find the right words, finally giving up with a sigh. "It was a gift from a friend."

"And you kept them?" you ask, arching an eyebrow in disbelief.

"Well, yes…" he mumbles.

You laugh again, not because you're judging him, but because seeing him so grief-stricken over something he tried to hide, but which is really no big deal, is adorable. It's rare to see him in this state of vulnerability, and you can't help but enjoy his discomfort a little. Your laughter grows with his fingers starting to tickle you, and your eyes fill with tears as you beg for mercy. Finally, Isagi pulls away, sitting back on his heels, victorious as the air from the fan ripples his hair.

"It's okay, check them if you want. I'll go pee, but don't touch anything else until I get back," he says, his voice tinged with faux authoritarianism.

His words only fuel your desire to explore more. You sit back down, the magazines now forgotten on the floor, as you scan the room for something else you might discover. But finding nothing that captures your attention, you momentarily give up, remembering that you probably have missed messages from your mom asking how dinner went. Your phone, deep in your pocket, had died halfway through dinner.

"Babe, where's your charger?" you yell, heading for the nightstand. You open the drawer and what you find is more than you expected. It's a treasure trove, exactly what you were looking for to piss him off even more.

"Fuck me," Isagi mutters from the doorway, his tone a clear sign of resignation.

"A fleshlight?" you exclaim, completely shocked. There's not even any intention of joking now. "I didn't think you were the type to use toys… I thought you didn't like them."

Isagi advances towards you quickly, but you hide it behind your back just in time. He stops, measuring his next steps.

"It was a joke," he explains, his voice laden with embarrassment.

"What kind of joke?" you ask, genuinely curious.

Isagi shakes his head, trying to organize his thoughts. "The guys thought it would be funny. It was a 'joke' because… well, because I was a virgin and stuff. Now, give it to me."

Isagi takes a step forward, but you step back, finding yourself pinned against the bed.

"Did you use it?" you ask, your eyes full of genuine wonder as you try to keep your cool.

Before you can run away or have time to react, Isagi advances towards you with the speed and precision he only shows in the field. His eyes, tinged with a deep blue full of determination, bore into yours, revealing an expression you have rarely seen, a mixture of defiance and desire. Effortlessly, he manages to lay you down on the mattress, his weight taking you prisoner as he reaches for the object hidden behind your back. He teases you again with tickling, and new tears of laughter form in your eyes.

"Fine! Fine, I give up! But first…" you say with a chuckle, noticing how he raises an eyebrow tentatively, as he pulls away and is completely seated on top of you, you notice small beads of sweat forming a crown on his forehead. "I need to know if you've used it."

Isagi licks his upper lip, his heart beating rapidly. He shouldn't feel embarrassed, but there's something uncomfortably intimate about admitting it in front of you, as if crossing an invisible line.

"Yes," he replies simply, his voice barely a whisper.

"Thinking about me?"

The room is plunged into a thick, tension-laden silence. Isagi looks at you, his eyes roaming over every detail of your face.

"Yes," he confesses, his words full of honesty. You lick your lips, struggling to keep your breathing under control.

"What were you thinking?" you ask, your voice low, barely audible in the charged atmosphere of the room.

Isagi takes a moment before answering, his eyes scanning yours for any clues. Finally, he leans in a little closer, his face close to yours, and in a barely audible whisper, he answers you.

"I was thinking about you… riding me, then me fucking you sideways, toying with your clit. Fuck, I remember it so clearly," he says, his voice deeper, charged with a mixture of desire and vulnerability you've never heard before.

The confession leaves a shiver running across your skin, and for a moment, the air in the room seems to grow thicker, heavier. His words, so simple yet so loaded with meaning, make you feel a mix of emotions. All you can do is look at him, contemplate this man who has somehow become so essential to you, so intimately tied to your life that imagining a future without him seems impossible.

"I want to see you use it…" you whisper, your words full of desire, stripped of any trace of teasing. The question hangs in the air, waiting for his answer.

Isagi takes a shaky breath, and you can feel his hips push against your abdomen, letting you know exactly what he thinks about the idea. The tip of his nose brushes against yours in an intimate gesture, but then he stops, reluctantly pulling away.

"Okay…" he sighs with resignation. Though you lick your suddenly dry lips now, and silently moan at the loss of his warmth when he pulls away, your skin begins to tingle with anticipation. Before you, your boyfriend peels off his shirt in one fluid motion, dropping it carelessly to the side. The sight of his naked torso, bathed in the soft light of the room, makes your heart pound, building anticipation and tension in the air.

"Do you have any lube?" you ask, your tone anxious, straining to keep your eyes fixed on his and not on the noticeably tight bulge under his boxers as he finally strips out of his pants.

Isagi gives a slight nod of his head, gesturing towards the bedside table. "If you'd looked a little harder, you would have found it right next to that… thing."

A smile tugs at your lips as you hear him refer to the toy that way, reminding you that, while he's not completely comfortable with the idea, he's willing to experience something new just because you've asked him to. Quickly, you lean over to the nightstand, pushing aside the charger and other items, until your fingers find the bottle of lubricant. You take it and return to bed with excitement pulsing through your veins.

Your legs are folded and wedged between his thighs. You watch anxiously as he holds himself with his hands on the mattress, his back slightly arched back. The sight of the tangle of hair peeking over the edge of his boxers distracts you for a moment, intensifying the desire growing between you both.

"Take it out," you ask, flashlight in one hand, lube in the other.

"You take it out, I thought it was you who wanted to play."

The response makes you bite your tongue, so he was going to make you work for it, you conclude. Good. You set the objects aside and ask him to lift his ass up so you can fully pull his boxers out of him, his free cock bouncing gently on the spot. He was completely hard and you want to tease him about it, comment to him that if he doesn't like the idea so much why is he so hard, but you know he's been thinking about it probably before dinner and that, if he were to toss your panties aside he'd realize you were just as needy so you let it go for now. Just for your own good.

It throbs as you feel your determined hand approach with the bottle of lubricant. You drop a generous amount at the tip, watching as it slowly slides to the base, its viscous texture catching the dim light of the room. Deftly, you reach for the liquid just before it touches the mattress, catching it with your fingers in a precise gesture.

Isagi shudders under your touch, a tremor running through his body more from the warmth of your touch than the coldness of the lubricant. The sticky sound of your hand sliding up and down now accompanies the soft murmur of the fan, creating an intimate symphony that fills the space you share.

You stroke him just a little before taking the toy, Isagi grunts as you press it to the tip, he thrusts his hips up to receive you when you finally slide it down disappearing his cock completely. You dare to give it a few pumps, taking note of every reaction.

"How does it feel?"

"Good," he replies with his eyelids half drooping and his jaw clenched.

Tentatively you give another deep thrust, the lewd sound of the toy filling the room with its wet, provocative echo. Then, you pull it out completely, and you can't help but watch as his cock drips pre-cum mixed with the lube, creating a tantalizing gloss on the tip. Isagi moans at the lack of attention, his voice laden with need, but it doesn't take you long to re-wrap his cock with the plastic, resuming a rhythm you know he loves.

"You're doing such a good job…" you murmur, fascinated as you watch him lose himself more in the moment, clearly surrendered to the pleasure you're giving him.

You liked it, you must confess. The power it makes you feel to see him like this, it was just like when you were masturbating him, he could reason, but for some reason there's something different about using a toy in between, the whole new scenario has you in a thick cloud of frenzy, your movements speeding up, determined to make him cum. His brow furrows, his lips part.

"Yes? Do you like being in control?" asks Isagi, his voice husky with a mixture of curiosity and desire.

You just mumble something inaudible, caught between the intensity of the moment and the proximity of his body. Before you can add anything else, however, Isagi rises, his movements fluid and confident. His hand slides to the back of your neck, gripping it firmly as he draws you closer, his lips only inches from yours, like a promise of an approaching kiss. "You like fucking me?"

"Yeah… fuck, I wanna watch you cum."

"Do it. Fuck me harder, cmon. Use me."

With both hands on your cheeks, he traps you in an intimate kiss, a heady mix of lust and love. His lips move urgently over yours, his tongue tangling in yours as his teeth gently punish your lower lip. Isagi's moans grow louder, each one charged with desire, as he inevitably nears climax.

"I'm not cumming…" he growls. "Not anywhere else but in your pussy."

Before you can react, Isagi takes your hand firmly, pushing the fleshlight aside. With a fluidity in his movements, he gently lays you down against the bed, his body pressing against yours. One hand rests on your neck, the touch warm and reassuring, while the other descends to your clit, caressing it in slow, long circles. The air becomes thick with anticipation and desire, each brush igniting your senses and leaving you breathless.

"No more games." The determination on his face is exhilarating, it has you throbbing and clenching around his fingers stretching you.

In a moment, Isagi gets rid of your bottoms and underwear and spits on his hand to wrap his cock with saliva, his hips exerting weight on your thighs open you wider for him and then you feel the tip part the walls of your pussy, your mouth opens slightly.

"There's nothing like this pussy."

Then, with one precise movement, Isagi slides inside you, so deep it takes your breath away for an instant. The sensation fills you completely, eliciting a choked moan in your throat. He doesn't move fast, but begins to roll his hips, creating a friction that makes you shudder. At the same time, his fingers continue to torture your clit in slow, deliberate circles, sending waves of pleasure that make you arch your back, letting the moment consume you completely.

"I'm almost there… but I need you to cum with me," he gasps.

You can only nod in desperation, begging him wordlessly to keep up the pace. But, without warning, Isagi pulls out, wrenching a frustrated moan from you before you can protest. With almost ruthless precision, he flicks your clit with the tip of his cock, drawing an unexpected cry of pleasure from you. Then he lifts your leg, placing it over his shoulder in a new position that allows him to go even deeper. Without further warning, he begins to thrust hard into you, the rhythm now brutal, as if he is determined to bring you to the edge of your orgasm. Each thrust is a promise broken and fulfilled at the same time, a movement that seeks both his release and yours, as you feel yourself collapse in shared ecstasy.

"There's nothing like this fucking pussy," Isagi murmurs between clenched teeth, his voice laden with desire as his lips land on your heel with a sweetness so intense it leaves you breathless. The contradiction between the brutality of his thrusts and the tenderness of his gesture makes you feel dizzy. "Lets cum together, baby."

His words sound like a request, but his raw passion, along with the strokes that spread throughout your body, feel like a command you can't refuse, even if you wanted to. Your back arches, and an electric current runs down your spine, tangling in your insides and exploding in an explosion of colors like fireworks. A few thrusts later, Isagi is chasing you, cumming inside you as he showers you with praise and how good you always are to him.

"That's my girl, there you go," he says sweetly as he kisses your throat, moves up to your jaw and concludes on your lips with tiny kisses that he scatters all over your face, tickling you.

"Stop!" you laugh as he gently bites your cheek for the sole purpose of teasing you.

"Don't run away from my kisses, c'mere!" Isagi squeezes you against his arms, from which you can't escape, as he continues to shower you with kisses and nibble you gently in every corner he can reach with his teeth. He doesn't stop until you surrender in his arms and kiss him back as you tousle the sweaty strands of his hair.

"Let's take a shower and go to sleep," you murmur sleepily. "I'm exhausted."

"Yeah, let's do that," he says, giving you one last kiss on the lips as he squeezes your cheeks.

"Maybe we can use the toy aga—"

"Don't even think about it."

#wr #wr.isagi #isagi x reader #isagi x you #isagi yoichi x reader #isagi yoichi x you #isagi yoichi smut #isagi smut

445 notes · View notes

pin-k-ink · 4 months

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cynosure // kageyama tobio

tw ⇢ needy!sub!kageyama, dom reader, begging, cunnilingus, squirting, praise kink (m! receiving), kageyama cums untouched, ruined orgasm, kinda body worship

wc ⇢ 2.3k

"I mean, what can I say?" Kageyama's deep baritone carried across the lively gathering with undisguised swagger. "It helps that my wife is so eager to please in the bedroom. She knows I'm in charge and that's just how it is."

You froze mid-conversation, drink halfway to your lips as his boastful declaration ricocheted through your consciousness like a thunderclap. Slowly, you turned to find your husband holding court among his former Karasuno teammates - chest puffed out and that signature smug grin plastered across his handsome features.

Despite the dull roar of the party surrounding him, Kageyama's navy gaze seemed to find yours through the crowd unerringly. Something deliciously wicked flashed behind those hooded depths as he appraised you from across the room with searing intensity.

As if sensing your rapidly mounting indignation, his smile turned molten - full lips curving into an artful sneer you knew so intimately. The one that said he was already formulating a full wind-up for the pitch guaranteed to send your temper blazing.

"Oi, oi Kageyama!" Tanaka's raucous laughter cut through the din next, jarring your focus. "You're full of it as always! There's no damn way [Y/N] just lets you call all the shots in the bedroom like that."

Nishinoya immediately chimed in with a loud cackle. "Sorry man, but I gotta agree with Ryuu on this one! Remember back in high school how [Y/N] used to keep your Kingly ass in line?"

You pursed your lips to suppress a smirk of your own as Kageyama visibly bristled at the friendly ribbing. Yamaguchi tried half-heartedly to defuse the mounting teasing, only to end up doubling over in wheezes as their loudmouth senpais kept the taunts rolling.

Throughout it all, Kageyama stared straight at you – a heated challenge simmering in that ravenous gaze you recognized all too intimately. You held his stare steadily, delicately grazing the rim of your glass with your tongue in a blatant show of defiance.

A visible shudder ripped through your husband at the deliberate taunt. You relished in the way his jaw clenched, throat bobbing convulsively even from this distance as you signalled your refusal to play along so docilely. Not in public, and certainly not back in the privacy of your own bedroom...where you both knew the delicious truth all too well.

So when the rager finally began winding down in the wee hours and pleasantries were exchanged, you made sure to slip out well ahead of Kageyama – already anticipating the blazing promise awaiting you both at home with heated inevitability.

Sure enough, you'd barely crossed the threshold before your husband's powerful bulk slammed the door shut behind you with a muted bang. Spinning on your heel, you took in the combustible sight of him looming there with those blown pupils smoldering with naked yearning.

"Feeling a little overconfident tonight, my King?" you murmured, keeping your tone light even as electricity fizzed down your spine.

Prowling forward with boneless grace, Kageyama crowded you back against the hallway wall without so much as a word. The rough plaster grated against your shoulders as he caged you in on both sides, but you refused to be cowed so easily.

"Don't..." he growled in that gravelly rasp you adored. "Unless you plan on actually putting me in my place, that is."

For a moment, he held you immobilized beneath the scorching weight of his ravenous study. You remained utterly defiant, licking your lips with delicate leisure just to watch his blown pupils dilate further in response. Then, unhurriedly, you skated your hands up the carved ridges of his abdomen until fingertips dug deliciously into chiseled pectorals.

"Well aren't you feeling rebellious tonight?" you husked out, sharp nails scraping over the stiff peaks of his nipples in wicked suggestion. "I'll admit, this new sense of misguided ego does suit you well, Tobio..."

Kageyama shuddered against you bodily, spine flexing as you angled your face closer until your lips brushed the strained tendon of his neck with every consonant.

"Though it will make taking you apart all the more...rewarding, I suspect," you finished, sealing your mouth over his thundering pulse in a slick glide.

A feral groan punched from your husband's chest as his arms sagged against the wall, fully surrendering himself over to your velvet possession already. You indulged in nipping and laving reverent patterns over every shuddering inch of silken flesh offered freely, relishing the crisp musk of Kageyama's arousal rapidly soaking the air between your twined forms.

Only once his lidded eyes finally fluttered shut in rapturous surrender did you pull back enough to rasp out the final blistering promise against his slack lips:

"Now...let's see how long that bravado holds up once I really put you through your paces, hm, my King?"

"Please...please [Y/N], I can't take it anymore..."

Kageyama's gravelly whine pitched higher as his big hands fisted in the bedding beside your thighs. You simply arched one sculpted brow, letting your gaze trail over his trembling form in a lazy sweep.

He knelt before you stripped bare, chest heaving with exertion and dark locks matted against his forehead from exquisite effort. A delicate sheen of sweat gleamed over the taut cords of his sculpted abdomen and those mouth-watering v-lines disappearing beneath...

You allowed yourself a slow, indulgent perusal of his thick cock straining against the scant fabric still clinging to his hips. No matter how many times you drank in the sight, it never failed to make your mouth water in fresh appreciation.

"Does my sweet little King need something?" you finally rumbled out, tone dripping with sugared condescension.

Kageyama whimpered again, those blown sapphire irises shining with desperate need as he searched your hooded expression pleadingly. In the dim bedroom light, you could make out the delicate glistening of tears streaking over his beautifully ruined features.

"Y-You..." he rasped out, lashes fluttering rapidly. "Please, I need you to touch me...kiss me...anything, [Y/N], I'm begging—"

His desperation broke off into a hitched cry as you simply tilted your head, keeping your folded arms and legs firmly crossed in a show of detached indifference. Despite the rapidly swelling ache pulsing between your own thighs, something primal and merciless reared within at holding this ultimate power over him.

"You're begging?" you echoed softly, letting the molten lull of your voice caress over each damning syllable. "The same King who was mouthing off so arrogantly about having control just hours ago?"

Kageyama's throat worked convulsively as you trailed one toe up the taut line of his inner thigh in a languorous glide. Despite his full-body shudder, you refused to halt the deliciously slow ministrations once you reached the apex of those rippling muscles bracketing his aching length.

"Perhaps this will remind my husband who truly holds the reins in our...intimate affairs, hm?" you crooned, skimming the very tip of your foot along the underside of his weeping cock in one branding caress.

Kageyama's ragged groan fractured into a high, needy whine as he dropped his head and rolled his hips into the honeyed torment helplessly. Wetness from the precum pearling at his flushed tip trailed down your arched instep in silken streaks, making you inhale sharply at the thrilling heat.

"Please..." he panted out in a wrecked rumble that seared straight through your already fraying restraint. "I'm yours, always yours...your good boy, I swear it..."

With maddening lethargy, you allowed your legs to finally unspool from their rigid posture and bracket his shuddering body with purposeful suggestion. Kageyama immediately angled forward to nuzzle his face into your pussy through your thin cotton panties, chasing the scent of your intoxicating musk with a starved whimper.

His beautiful mouth went slack against your damp heat as you threaded elegant fingers through his dark hair with deceptive gentleness – nails raking over his scalp hard enough to leave tingling crescents in their wake.

"That's right..." you whispered in a voice gone hoarse and brimming with possessive ardor. "My perfect, sweet boy knows his place now...at my feet with his King's mouth pressed to his Queen's altar."

Kageyama shattered with a broken wail against your slick folds, eager tongue lapping at your swollen clit, working in frantic reverence as his broad shoulders shook with the force of his rapturous worship. You rolled your hips forward with measured leisure, grinding against his sinfully plush lips in a languid glide, letting the wet rasp of fabric intensify the sensation.

Your husband groaned against your pussy with every breathless swipe of his tongue, lashes fluttering and cheeks glistening with a fresh wave of salty tears. His thick, aching cock bobbed between his thighs as he hastily tugs his boxers down - twitching in a steady beat with each stroke and suckle of his perfect lips.

You tightened your grip on his dark locks, tugging his head back until his throat flexed with a muted moan. He blinked up at you in a daze, those oceanic orbs nearly swallowed by the endless depths of his blackened pupils.

You looked down to see him staring up at you through thick, clumped lashes and the wet glimmer of tears staining his flushed cheeks. That sinful mouth - still gleaming with the slick remnants of your desire - hung open in a pant, revealing the crimson tip of his tongue resting there on offer.

Lower, you could see his cock weeping and twitching in earnest. The tip was dark, flushed, and throbbing - so painfully engorged that the veins crisscrossing the length stood out in stark relief. An obscene amount of precum glistened in a thin string, connecting the slit to a small puddle forming on the hardwood floor below.

"Oh my sweet King," you cooed, trailing the pad of your thumb over the swollen seam of his lower lip. "What a mess you're making already...you want me that badly?"

Kageyama's only response was another wrecked whimper as he surged forward, sucking the tip of your thumb into his mouth with a low, pleading whine. You allowed the intimate contact for several long moments, feeling his tongue swipe around the digit in a filthy pantomime of what you both so desperately craved.

Then, with aching deliberateness, you tugged the soft cotton fabric to the side and spread the puffy folds of your aching pussy. Your husband's eyes widened further, blown pupils zeroing in on your slick, exposed cunt as a low keen rumbled from deep within his chest.

"Be a good boy and clean up your mess, Tobio..."

Without hesitation, Kageyama dove forward, pressing his mouth flush to your aching heat with a groan of relief. You shuddered as his sinful lips immediately sought out your clit, drawing the swollen nub between his teeth to graze with delicate pressure.

"Fuck..." you gasped out, head tipping back at the electric current ripping down your spine. Your hips stuttered forward, thighs flexing on either side of his head. His thick hands came up to grasp at the supple flesh there, fingers digging into the pliant give as he lapped and sucked and licked in a dazed frenzy.

Your husband's enthusiasm was no match for the molten desire burning through your own veins, and you soon found yourself tipping over the edge in a shuddering rush. Your orgasm crashed over you in a relentless wave, and you felt the hot, wet rush of slick gushing from your cunt as he drank it all down in fervent gulps.

He didn't stop his hungry assault until you shoved him back by his tangled hair, chest heaving and pussy trembling from overstimulation. A thick rivulet of cum and saliva oozed from the corner of his mouth, and you watched as Kageyama made no move to wipe it away – simply let it slide down the column of his throat in a filthy display.

"Please..." he slurred out, sounding drunk on pleasure and desperation. "Need you...please, I need you, I can't take it..."

He kept up the litany, a steady stream of half-coherent pleas and broken cries as he rocked his hips forward, searching for friction. His neglected cock bobbed and dripped between his thighs, still painfully swollen and aching for release.

"My poor boy," you crooned, reaching down to cup his jaw with aching tenderness. Kageyama's gaze remained glassy and unfocused, though he instinctively turned his cheek into the warm palm cradling his face. "Let's take care of this, hm?"

At once, your husband nodded eagerly – lips parted and eyes rolling back in bliss as you slid down to your knees to match him. With aching reverence, you cupped his face between both hands and leaned forward, capturing his lips in a searing kiss.

He groaned against your mouth, the heady scent and taste of your slick mixing between you both in a deliciously filthy exchange. His thick, calloused hands came up to frame your own jaw, holding you in place as he pressed forward – deepening the kiss with a ragged, animalistic growl.

You were so absorbed in your own spiraling ecstasy that you nearly missed the subtle cues at first. The way Kageyama's shoulders went rigid. How his desperate whimpers fractured into sharper, hitching gasps laced with fresh rapture blooming.

It wasn't until you felt the first spurt of his thick, wet seed splattering against your stomach and thigh did you pull back from the kiss, eyes widening in awe. You looked down to see his swollen cock pulsing, jerking and twitching as he shot rope after rope of cum across your naked flesh.

A punched-out groan tore from his chest as he succumbed, hips jerking in helpless rhythm as the last drops of his release trickled out in a weak stream. Then, as suddenly as the powerful rush had consumed him, Kageyama sagged – his muscular bulk slumping forward until his sweat-slicked forehead thudded against your shoulder.

A stunned laugh bubbled up from your chest, and you reached up to smooth one hand through his tangled locks with affection. He groaned into your collarbone, nuzzling deeper into your neck as his strong arms encircled your waist to hold you tight.

"M’ sorry. Wanted to hold out longer," he mumbled, the words vibrating against your heated skin. "Couldn't help it when you started kissing me, though."

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader smut #kageyama tobio x reader smut #kageyama x reader smut #kageyama tobio smut #kageyama tobio x reader #kageyama smut #kageyama x reader #tobio x reader #tobio smut #tobio x reader smut

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simpjaes · 6 months

Note

jungwon and anal?

wc: 1.4k warnings: wrong hole, dub-con, face down-ass up position, feels too good so he keeps going, hole swapping lmfaoooo, reader fingers herself while he's pounding her ass and that kinda breaks his brain, don't like it? don't read it.

When it's like this, Jungwon always goes too fast. His stamina peaking right around the time your clit gets sensitive and your throat is dry from the sheer amount of moaning. He's always got this tight grip on you, holding you down both in a loving and needy way to keep your body from moving too much. Always with his eyes slammed shut, mouth open, panting and groaning from each jolt of pleasure he gets from you. You always get so wet when he does this. When he's accidentally too rough but equally as loving. Multiple orgasms plus the consistent arousal he brings to you by not stopping after each one he gives is something you don't think you'll ever grow tired of. After all, he likes to hold out, not letting himself get off until you're fucked out well into the mattress. That slippery slide gushing out of you only offers a louder plunge, a messier thrust, and an even more delicious view for Jungwon to see from this angle. Face down. Ass up. His hands go from holding your hips and pushing you down so he can mount and go harder to grabbing your ass and spreading you open just to see his length disappear at a bruising and aggressive pace. With a pussy so pretty stretched around him, how can he resist? It's too, too fucking good when he's got you like this. So good in fact, that he can't help but throw his head back and offer a long and pornographic moan of your name. His hips are moving so fast, with the sound of slapping and your little yelps each time he pushes forward harder, deeper.

It's not a shock that he didn't realize immediately. With the way you were spinning in pleasure to suddenly tensing up, feeling empty in the wrong place and entirely too full in another.

"Ah-!" You moan in shocked pain, shooting your eyes open and trying to look back at your lusty and lost boyfriend. His head remains thrown back, but he doesn't move his hips now.

He doesn't pull out, he doesn't even breathe while he holds you there against him, cock buried deep into your clenching ass. Immediately upon feeling the pain, your body fights it. You try to rock forward to get his cock out of you, but his hands remain on your hips, not letting you pull even an inch out of yourself.

He lends a painful twitch, one that stretches your walls to the point you can only bury your face into the pillows with a plead. He's holding you back on him, seemingly lost in the pleasure of the tight new space.

"Wonnie-" You hiccup, not exactly upset at the mishap but more so just unprepared for the intrusion. No matter how wet your pussy is, that dry plunge into your ass burned and seared throughout your whole body. "It- it's too big." You whimper into the plush pillow.

You don't see him do it, but Jungwon can't fucking fathom how tight you're hugging him right now. That pretty cracked voice, your shaking legs...fuck. He tilts his head forward only a little bit, looking down at the accidental pleasure he's offered more to himself than to you.

Immediately his reaction is to pull his bottom lip through his teeth and fucking seethe at how sexy it both looks and feels. He knows you're in pain, but goddamn does that pain feel so, so good.

Why hasn't he ever fucked your ass before? This is what he was missing? "R-relax, baby," Jungwon tries to soothe you both as he caresses the outer cheeks of your ass, pressing his hips up harder just to try and fit another non existent inch inside of you. At that moment, he doubles over at the feeling, nearly panting against the back of your ear.

"Fuckkk, squeezing me so tight-" He nearly sobs with you at the intensity of it. Truly, it feels amazing but it's not like it doesn't hurt him either. The dry plunge only had your previous orgasms for lubricant and still your hugging walls nearly strangle him. He swears he can feel it in his throat each time your ass clenches around his pulsing and leaking cock.

"Please don't tell me to pull out, please, fucking please relax." You try to breathe, your shoulders tensing up as you hug against the pillow at his needy words. Already after the initial intrusion it hurts less, but it still hurts. A lot. But he sounds so good. So desperate. So sexy when he's moaning for you like this.

Maybe if there was lube and prep, you'd be in a lot less pain.

"Wonnie," You choke out, lifting your head slightly to skew it against his cheek. "Just...g-go slow." You can feel his sigh of relief shoot straight to his cock, the bulbous head leaking and twitching inside of you, stretching you out just that much more when he pulls his hips back. You almost regret not trying to wiggle away again. Surely it'll hurt even more as he continues, but god you can't resist how he's acting right now. You would give him anything he could ever want, even if it hurts you. You breathe out in relief too at the feeling of his cock pulling back, letting your sore walls sponge back out before he's immediately pushing back in. The tight fit hurts so, so, good, but he makes it easier and easier with each thrust. Praising you through it with those needy moans, his hands caressing rather than gripping. He even pulls back after a moment, letting his saliva collect on his tongue just to let it fall from his mouth directly onto your hole. That's when he pulls all the way out, only to slide his cock right back into your pussy. Collecting all of your orgasms and slick, spreading more of his own saliva around your hole. Ah, you can't help but moan.

The slide is less dry now when he presses his tip back into your ass. Less pain, so much less. More pleasure. You moan out for him at the way all that pain just feels good now. So much so that your pussy continues to drip through his deep thrusts. To the point all he needs to do is pull out and swap holes to keep you lubed and slick for this. And it just keeps going like that, up until you feel your body tense up with pleasure, forcing your hand between yourself and the mattress only to rub your clit. Goddamn it feels so good too, even with the pain still aching inside of you. All you hear is Jungwon praising you, moaning, and practically drooling all over you with those loud slaps of how hard he's fucking your tight hole, and all you feel is goosebumps and electrifying arousal running up and down your body. You don't know why you want to be filled more. You don't know why you've never considered this, especially after all that porn you used to watch. Your orgasm hits you near instantly when you abandon your swollen clit and instead press your fingers into your mostly-neglected cunt. When you slide them in, you can feel his cock moving just a thin fleshy wall over and it makes you see stars. You fuck yourself like that, clenching Jungwon just as tight as you did when he initially entered your ass and in that split second he looks down. "Oh, fuck." He moans when he leans back, skewing his head to see the way you essentially double penetrate yourself with his help. That's his girl. Right here, cumming all over your fingers while he relentlessly stretches your ass. Each thrust getting harder, harder, harder. Deeper, pointed, painfully good.

"Oh, fuck, baby yeah. Just like that." He echoes and babbles at the image and feeling, up until he can't hold back either.

All it takes is for him to press his hips in once more, hard. His weight behind you forces your face back into the pillow to the point of near suffocation but the pulses of his load shooting into you only makes it feel that much better. And with the sound of him crying out, babbling strings of curses and praises, you shake through it. Your own orgasm subsided just as his hit him, but the post-orgasm bliss only made your body feel like it was on fire for him. The mess is going to be...something and Jungwon doesn't appear too apologetic either, if anything, he just seems thankful. Kissing you a million times before slowly pulling his cock out of you, chuckling at the relieved sound of your breathing once he's finally out of you.

#enhypen smut #jungwon smut #yang jungwon smut #enhypen hard hours

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ukbathroomshoponline · 2 years

Text

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etherealising · 4 months

Text

a buried and a burning flame

part two out now!

pairing(s): richie jerimovich x fem!reader

summary: constantly arguing with your student’s father wasn’t on your bucket list for this school year, but how can you stop when he just makes it so easy to get under his skin? based on this request.

wc: 11k

A wide forced smile graced your lips as you looked at the very obviously out-of-place man sitting in the small classroom chair that was usually occupied by the small bodies of your second graders. Your foot tapped impatiently as you waited for the line to connect, the last call went straight to voicemail and you were begging the universe for it not to happen this time as you felt the heat of the man's scowl sear into you.

“Hello, this is Tiffany Gattina speaking.”

You perked up as soon as you heard a greeting, “Ms. Gattina?” You listened as she repeated your name, relief flooding through you that you’d finally gotten ahold of the woman.

“Yes, hi it’s me.” You cringed at the immediate panic running through the woman’s voice. “No, no Eva’s perfectly fine, but there is an uh…Mr. Jerimovich here claiming to be her father.” You looked up, the man’s loud scoff sent a wave of irritation through you, the urge to roll your eyes growing the longer the two of you stared at each other.

Your attention was pulled back to the phone as you listened to the woman you were used to seeing during pickups explain their familial situation to you. “Thank you for clarifying, but seeing as he isn’t listed on her yellow card, legally I’m not allowed to let him take her off of school premises.”

The sound of Mr. Jerimovich releasing a disbelieving laugh caused you to grit your teeth, your body swiveling around so he was forced to glare at your back.

“Shit, okay I’ll be there as soon as I can.” You listened through the phone as Ms. Gattina shuffled around, her keys jangled as the line went dead before you’d even got the chance to say goodbye.

It was immature but you stood against the wall with the phone to your ear for a few minutes more, quiet hums leaving your lips to give the illusion you were still speaking with someone so you wouldn’t have to be subjected to spending too much time alone with the irate older man. The cold tiny fingers patting your elbow made you jump, eyes finding Eva’s small figure looking up at you as she waited for you to hang up the phone. A feeling of guilt raced through you as your eyes darted to her childlike smile, while you were here trying to avoid her father you were also avoiding Eva.

You felt ridiculous saying goodbye to a dial tone before moving to place the phone back on the receiver mounted to the wall, “What can I do for you, Miss Eva?” You smiled as her nose scrunched up watching as she waved for you to bend down so she could whisper in your ear.

“Is it okay if I go to the reading corner?” You let out a quiet laugh at her question as you stood up nodding your head and watching as her face lit up in excitement.

“Just remember to put the books back where they go.” You watched as she skipped over to the decorated corner, a smile lining your lips at all the work you put into making your classroom as inviting and comfortable to your kids as ever, but the thought slowly dwindled as you remembered why exactly she was here after hours.

A small sigh escaped you at the loud noise leaving the intruder’s phone followed by his equally as loud commentary, the sounds bouncing off the once quiet walls of your classroom made you want to scream. You walked to your desk opening a drawer and shuffling through the files in hopes that you’d find an extra yellow card. The universe was on your side as you pulled a blank yellow card out, smoothing the crease out in one of the corners. If this man was gonna take up space in your classroom, the least he could do was fill the card out so the two of you didn’t have to repeat this interaction.

You had to steel your nerves before standing up, reaching to pull a pen out of the cup on your desk before approaching the boisterous man with all the false confidence you could muster. You stopped in front of him clearing your throat to gain his attention and forcing yourself not to snap as he leisurely looked up at you before his gaze returned to his phone, you had to stop your mouth from dropping open at the blatant disrespect before composing yourself as he locked his phone and placed it face down on the table.

“Mr. Jerimovich-,” Your words were interrupted by the screeching of the chair legs against the linoleum eyes watching as the man raised to his full height and impeded on your space.

“Listen, sweetheart,” you raised your brows at the nickname eyes locked on his. “I’m just here to get my little girl alright. And there was no need for you to go snitchin’ to her mom and shit.”

Your eyebrows rose further up your face, eyes darting to Eva to ensure she wasn’t privy to this dispute, tuning out her father as he kept running his mouth. Your head snapped back in his direction as you caught the last of his tirade, his words implied that you were unqualified to even be a teacher.

“Listen Mr. Jerimovich.” You paused, sending him your most condescending smile. “Let me paint you a little picture, let's say I don’t know, corner store Joe comes up to the school during dismissal tomorrow points at that sweet little girl over there, and spins some story about being her uncle. Have I lost you yet?”

There was venom in your words as you watched him roll his eyes before nodding for you to continue. “I would be a shit teacher to send that precious girl off with the first person who tried to claim her. So maybe you are her father. I'm not taking that away from you, but until Ms. Gattina walks through that door and confirms your identity, I am not letting Eva out of my sight. Understand me?”

His eyes hadn’t left yours through your whole spiel, darting between them as he let your words sink into him, you watched on as he reluctantly nodded a feeling of triumph raced through you.

“Great, now you’re gonna sit back down and you’re going to spend the rest of the time you're here feeling out this information card, okay?” You pressed the yellow card and pen into his chest, your eyes falling to the “Original Berf” logo before looking back at him once more.

The cold metal on his hand brushed against yours as he grabbed the materials from you, the gold wedding band on his finger drew your attention, the sight of it intriguing you. You watched him in curiosity as he sat down grumbling words under his breath you couldn’t even begin to understand, your staring was interrupted as he shot you an annoyed look, eyes looking you up and down trying to figure out why you were hovering.

Irritation radiated off of him as he waited for you to take your leave, the glare in his eyes loud and clear that your presence was no longer welcome. You sent him one last forced smile before turning on your heels to utilize however long you were stuck with him to grade and go over lesson plans.

You stopped in your tracks as something occurred to you, the noise of your shoes hit the linoleum as you made your way back to him, “One more thing Mr. Jerimovich, don’t ever cuss in my classroom again.” Your words were punctuated by a saccharine smile, his lips rolling in as he repressed himself from saying something he might regret.

Teaching children right from wrong would always fill you with a sense of purpose, but having to deal with their asshole parents made you question your career choice more times than you’d like to admit.

The last thing you wanted to spend the end of your Friday doing was trying to play mediator between two grown men who couldn’t accept the faults of their children. As soon as you sat them down and began to explain the situation, you became the bad guy, and when they weren’t jumping down your throat, they were having a screaming match with each other, you only hoped Mrs. Monroe across the hall was having an easier time occupying the two children she’d agreed to keep company for the time being.

A lull in the screaming match allowed you to speak up. “I understand the urge to defend your children and while I respect it, please let me explain the full incident.” Neither man said anything as they looked at you, both of them giving off the impression that they’d rather be anywhere else than here listening to you.

“During arts and crafts time there was a bit of misunderstanding between Noah and Eva. I’m not exactly sure how it started as I was helping another student bu-,” You paused as Mr. Vanderbilt let out a disbelieving laugh, his hand waving off your silence to get you to continue.

Your fingers dug into the fabric of your pants as you had to remind yourself that you couldn’t just assault your student's parents, you cleared your throat before continuing. “Mr. Vanderbilt, your son threw a pair of scissors at another student. And while I’m sure you have more pressing matters to deal with, this is Noah’s third write-up this month.” You watched the agitation rise on his face, his mouth moving to form sentences before you spoke over him, “And regardless of his age, his actions fall under the category of assault, and as I’m sure you know this is a zero-tolerance campus.”

There wasn’t even a few seconds of silence between your words before the man spoke up. “I can assure you it was an accident and had you been paying attention to all of your students, I’m sure me and Mr. Jerimovich wouldn’t have to be here wasting our time.” You watched on in disbelief as his hands raised lazily to unbutton his suit jacket which probably cost more than your yearly salary.

Your mouth opened and closed a few times as you tried to gather your thoughts in the most professional way possible whatever you had to say not seeing the light of day. “This child Ava, was she injured? If not then I really don’t see why I’m here in the first place.”

“Her names Eva you fuckin’ jagoff.” Mr. Jerimovich’s loud voice rang through your ears, and you could see you were once again losing control of the situation.

The more boisterous of the two men turned in his chair, his chest puffed out as though he was preparing himself in case this turned into a physical dispute. Your eyes bounced between them both knowing that Mr. Vanderbilt would be on the phone with his lawyer faster than Mr. Jerimovich could even throw a punch.

“Excuse me!” Your voice raised a few octaves, the overly polite persona you put on fading the longer you sat with them. “While the safety scissors didn’t break skin, there is a bruise on Eva’s collarbone. And you’re here Mr. Vanderbilt because Noah is prone to these outbursts and it’s gotten out of hand now that my other students are at risk of being hurt just because he may be overstimulated. I would appreciate it if you and your wife took the time to find the root of his problems, I mean no disrespect Mr. Vanderbilt but oftentimes this behavior usually begins at home.”

The sneer on Mr. Vanderbilt’s face was the last thing you wanted to see at that moment, you’d had enough experience with privileged and pretentious parents to know your Friday was just going to continue getting worse.

“They just let anyone teach our children nowadays don’t they?” His condescending smile was enough warning on its own. “Noah’s a great kid and listen I don’t want to tell you how to do your job, but that’s just how boys are. I think the real issue at hand is the fact that my child’s education has been put in the hands of well…a child. Where did you say you received your degree from again?”

Indignation settled heavily in your chest as you watched a self-assured smirk paint his lips as he rose from his chair. “The way I see it, if you knew how to do your job none of this would’ve happened, I mean how hard is it to babysit a bunch of six-year-olds for a couple of hours?” You watched in silence as he stood to his full height, hands smoothing out his ridiculously expensive suit. “I’ll make sure Principal Pacheco hears about how unqualified you are to be in a classroom.”

The silence was loud as you watched him sashay out of your classroom door, eyes locked on his back the whole time mind racing with what you did in a past life to even deserve half the shit you were subjected to dealing with.

“What a fucking joke.” You jumped in your seat at the gruff voice part of you had forgotten he was there considering his silence, something that shocked you seeing how outspoken he already proved he was. “Asshole dad and asshole kid, am I right? What a fucking prick talkin’ to you like that, yo I don’t know how you put up with that shit.”

You blinked in rapid succession trying to follow his fast-paced words, your mind trying to figure out why he thought he could be so casual with you. You were snapped out of your stupor as he stood long legs leading him to the door, you pushed off the chair moving to meet him before he could step foot outside.

“Mr Jerimovich please wait,” he stopped his movements hand stalled on the door as he looked at you.

“Given the situation, I know it sounds a bit ridiculous, but Eva was also written up today.” You paused watching as his eyebrows furrowed.

“After the incident, while I was checking her for any wounds, she began to yell at Noah using…explicit language.” The man’s full body turned to you, his shoulders hunching over as one hand raised to swipe across his mouth, the sound of his incredulous laugh danced through your ears.

“Let me get this straight, some little punk ass kid assaults my little girl, your words. And you write her up because she says a few bad words.” You could understand where his irritation stemmed from, you debated just letting her off with a warning but then other students began repeating her words and the only way for you to help Eva understand the gravity of her actions was to give her consequences.

You began playing with the bracelet on your wrist unsure how much more verbal abuse you could take in one day. Your thoughts raced with the best way to go about this situation and somehow convince him to understand your duty as an educator.

“Between me and you, I don’t think Eva’s reaction was wrong, she’s allowed to feel whatever she needs to. But her response is where I had to draw the line, other students were repeating her words.” You hoped the look in your eyes could convey whose side you were on in this situation.

The man in front of you sucked his teeth as he shook his head, humorless laughter followed, “Is this the shit they teach at whatever fancy-ass little school you went to? She was hurt and probably angry, what the fuck did you expect from her. Listen, lady, I don’t know if you were raised to just roll over and take shit but that’s not how I’m raising my daughter.”

Whatever hold you had on your anger quickly slipped away as he continued speaking, “You don’t get to come into my classroom with your stupid little matching tracksuit and the smell of god-awful food wafting off of you and try to tell me about myself. And you also don’t get to insult my education and upbringing to make yourself feel better about the fact that the only impression you make in your daughter’s life is the string of curse words that constantly leave your mouth.”

He let out a real laugh this time, hands clapping the noise echoed around the mostly silent classroom, “So she can fucking speak up for herself, you’re just full of fuckin’ surprises! Why don’t you just teach my daughter like you’re paid to and leave the parenting to me, sweetheart.”

You weren’t sure when the two of you had gotten so close but you could feel his huffs of breath ghosting across your face, sure he could feel yours as well. It was a few moments of intense eye contact, neither of you wanting to be the first to end it, somehow doing so would be a sign of defeat.

“I would appreciate it from now on if your ex-wife or Eva’s stepfather was my only point of contact where she’s concerned.” Your words were punctuated by your eyes glancing at the gold band on his ring finger.

It was a low blow and although you didn’t particularly like the man in front of you, you knew that he didn’t deserve the blaze of your full anger. But you also didn’t deserve to be consistently disrespected for just trying to do your job.

You watched on a bit guiltily as his face dropped, his eyes darting between yours before settling into slits as he glared at you, his look of disgust making you feel like you needed to exfoliate the whole day away immediately upon returning home.

No more words were exchanged between the two of you. You watched as he turned back to the door to exit once again, his tall lanky body drifted across the hall collecting Eva. You stood in the entrance of your classroom lip tugged between your teeth as you watched them disappear down the hall. A guilty wave was sent to the small smiling child as she eagerly waved goodbye to you.

The classroom was all prepped and ready to go, the assortment of donuts were all lined up separated between vegan from non-vegan. Events like these always had a good turnout, part of you wishing these types of days were around when you were still in school.

You were nervous and while you wanted to believe it was because the school year was slowly coming to an end and you’d need to figure out how you were going to support yourself over summer break, you knew that some of the nerves had to do with being in the presence of a certain student's father.

Trying to occupy your racing mind, you double-checked that the coffee and hot cocoa were warm and ready to be served. You moved to the door of your classroom, eyes tracing over the ‘Donuts with Dad’ sign you’d spent all night making, chuckling at how much effort and creativity you’d put into something that would be gone in an hour or two.

You took your place in front of your classroom door, the time on your watch letting you know the main doors would be opening soon. Swarms of students followed by their father figures walked through the halls, your hand waving to greet the first few pairs to enter your classroom letting them know it was alright to help themselves.

The routine of greetings went on for a little while longer, you’d have to tamp down on the way your eyes constantly roved over the heads of other parents hoping to see the tall lanky figure that for some reason raced through your thoughts no matter how much he infuriated you. It had been a few weeks since the last spat the two of you shared and while he hadn’t stopped picking up or dropping off Eva, not that you actually expected him to. Neither of you had spoken a word to each other in the time between now and then. You weren’t sure what it was but as much as he annoyed the shit out of you, you found yourself missing the irritation he caused you, the way it felt almost fun to have someone push your buttons for the hell of it. It sounded insane the two of you had only met on two occasions and neither of them left a good taste in your mouth but you couldn’t help but want more interactions with him, it was finally getting to your head, spending every waking minute with children was finally pushing you over the edge so much so that you willingly wanted to argue with a parent of your student. Maybe it was time to take your friends up on that offer of a night out.

A parent calling out to you drew your attention, your eyes peeking into the classroom to see that it was pretty much full aside from the obvious missing duo.

The rest of your time was spent with each parent and student duo individually. Checking in to make sure they were all doing okay and answering any questions a parent may have had regarding their students' learning experience. You’d learned from Noah’s uncle who he’d chosen to bring that his parents weren’t as involved in his life as they should’ve been and that he was trying to talk them into getting him into behavioral therapy. You appreciated his honesty and you appreciated even more that he wasn’t quick to write off Noah’s behavior as him just being a boy but mostly you were surprised when Noah shyly handed you a letter of apology a similar one in his hand addressed to Eva.

After your rounds, you relegated yourself to your desk taking the time to answer emails and begin planning end-of-the-year activities, your eyes wandered to Eva’s empty cubby every so often concern sinking into you at her absence. There were about 30 minutes left before the adults would have to begin leaving, you were so engrossed in the pro and con list you made about working during a summer school session that you hadn’t realized the duo patiently standing in front of your desk.

The clearing of a throat jolted you eyes quickly flashing up, the surprise clear on your face. Your eyes darted between Eva and her father before your mind finally began working. “Eva! We were worried you wouldn’t be joining us today. There’s only about 20 minutes left but you're both welcome to enjoy some donuts and drinks.”

You pointed in the direction of the table where the refreshments were situated smiling at Eva as she eagerly bounced away. You were surprised to see her father still standing in front of your desk. The awkward air radiated heavily between the two of you, you could see his mouth opening and closing as though he had something to say but decided against it before turning to catch up with his daughter.

Focusing back on your previous task seemed almost impossible as your ears eagerly listened out for the heavy lilt of a Chicago accent, you didn’t want to seem too eager by approaching the duo so soon, but as the time on the clock continued to tick down you knew you’d have to get it over with.

Quickly standing you smoothed out your blouse before making your way to the table. They were situated at pulling up a chair of your own and trying to ignore the heated glare on the side of your head. “Good morning you two, are you enjoying yourselves?”

Eva’s wide smile punctuated by the faint whipped cream mustache helped to alleviate any lingering doubts that had settled within you. Reluctantly you turned to the only other adult seated at the table; the displeasure of you being seated next to him was evident across his face. You shuffled in your seat feeling uncomfortable under his penetrating gaze, “Is the coffee to your liking?”

It wasn’t much but you couldn’t sit and stew in the awkward tension forever, hoping that although you’d both made horrible first and second impressions of each other you could just let bygones be bygones. You drummed your fingers together as his stare stayed locked on you giving nothing away about his current thoughts.

“Ain’t nothin’ to write home about.” His shoulders shrugged in dismissal as he looked away from you, busying himself with the grade-appropriate decorations around your classroom.

Eva was none the wiser to the bad blood between you and her father as she continued munching on her donut, fingers making shapes out of the crumbs that now decorated her table. You twiddled your thumbs trying to figure out the best way to bring up your next topic of conversation.

You cleared your throat, gaining the older man’s attention once more, “Mr. Jerimovich, I’m not sure if you’ve heard but we have a field trip coming up,” there was no indication on his end that he was listening, just an unnerving blank stare trained on you. “Unfortunately one of our chaperones had to back out at the last minute, and I thought seeing as you haven’t joined us on a field trip this year you might be interested.”

His already too-big body hunched forward, his knee harshly knocking into yours under the table as he leaned into your space across the desk, his movements forced you back sitting ramrod straight in your chair. “Sorry sweetheart, I’m not too sure that’s a good idea and all ya know seeing as how you made it clear I’m a horrible influence on children. Wouldn’t want to corrupt anyone else’s kids.”

You bit your lip hard, the words you said to him all those weeks ago finally coming back to bite you in the ass. You had no one to blame but yourself and as easy as it would’ve been to go tit for tat with him in this moment, you were trying to be the bigger person and put this animosity between the two of you to bed.

A solid hand landing on your shoulder stopped whatever words you were struggling to string together. The unwanted weight caused you to look over your shoulder, surprised to see Noah and his uncle whose name you didn’t remember standing behind the three of you.

“Hey, sorry to interrupt but I wanted to make sure Noah apologized while I was still here.” You subtly shrugged hoping he’d get the hint and remove his hand and luckily for you, he did. The sound of a grunt met your ears as your eyes flashed back to the initial pair you were speaking with. Eva’s discomfort was palpable as she held on to her father’s arm, the young girl not too keen on the turn of events, if she was uncomfortable then Mr. Jerimovich was downright murderous in the way he sized the other man up, an unnecessary brawl sure to happen if you didn’t step in.

“Eva sweetie, Noah wrote you a letter to apologize for his actions. If you're interested in accepting it that’s great, but I won’t force you to if you don’t want to.” She nodded shyly at your words as she looked at you, her eyes moving up to look at her father as they spoke to each other in a few glances only they understood.

You wished Noah’s uncle would’ve let you handle the situation how you saw fit instead of bombarding the poor girl, probably making her feel as though she had to accept the letter because she was pressured by his presence. Eva’s eyes found yours once more, a reassuring smile on your lips to assure her whatever decision she made was entirely fine. Her small hand reached out palm face up as she waited for Noah’s letter, the small boy hastily tossing it in her hand while mumbling a reluctant sorry under his breath.

The air was awkward as you waited for the intruders to leave a forced smile drawing to your lips as the man’s hand landed on your shoulder once again this time squeezing it a bit. You let out a sigh of relief when they returned to their previous seats, your thoughts not as jumbled as before as you turned to try and persuade Mr. Jerimovich of your offer.

“You know you got a lot of nerve talkin’ about the impression I make on my daughter, now you’re beggin’ me to save your ass and lettin’ that jagoff fondle you in front of kids. I mean if I’m a shit influence you’re shittier.” He finished his sentence by taking a bite of his donut, the crumbs catching in his facial hair caused your lip to curl up in disgust.

He was lucky Eva had run off to dispose of her trash and that the ruckus of parents getting ready to leave drowned out his words. “Need I remind you Mr. Jerimovich that you are in my classroom, a classroom full of children, and still you don’t have the self-control to control your cussing” You stood up dusting the imaginary crumbs off your pants, “Clean up your mess and make sure you have your life together the next time you step foot in my classroom.”

“Yeah whatever sweetheart I dunno what’s got you wound so tight, but you better take care of it before you end up bitter and alone.”

A sarcastic laugh escaped at the irony of his words, “Remind me again, which one of us still wears the wedding ring from their failed marriage?”

You weren’t sure what possessed you to do it, but arguing with him sent you on a power trip of some sort, your hand reached out to break a piece of his donut off before eating it, your own sad little war prize.

His glare was the most vicious it’d ever been as he watched your mouth work around the sweet treat, “I hope you fucking choke.”

“You too sweetheart.” Your smile was a borderline snarl as you moved past him, shoulder-checking him on your way to clean up any leftover messes.

Regret wasn’t something you experienced often but as you stood listening to the tour guide your shoulder bumping into the tall man next to you from time to time, his annoyed huffs of breaths meeting your ears, you realized that you were your own worst enemy.

When you arrived at the school this morning your excitement was at an all-time high. As much as you loved teaching your students it was nice to get out of the classroom and go on field trips, you also appreciated not having to teach for a day. So as you waited with the other second-grade teachers for all the students and chaperones to arrive you were sure nothing could ruin your day, but that all changed when you saw Eva walk up with her very smug-looking asshole of a father.

You hadn’t given it a second thought before you removed yourself from the conversation with Mrs. Monroe legs working overtime to meet up with the father-daughter duo before they could join the rest of the waiting group. Eva smiled brightly as you approached them excitement written across her face the small girl had talked about the trip all week.

“Good morning Ms. Eva, are you ready to explore the museum?” Her head nodded rapidly as she giggled, her hand swinging back and forth in the cage of her fathers, “Why don’t you go join the others while I have a word with your dad.” She nodded, squeezing her father’s hand before taking off across the parking lot to join the growing group of second graders.

Looking at the man standing in front of you, you could see your reflection in the stupid-looking sunglasses he wore, the both of you staring each other down. Your eyebrows furrowed as his hand raised in offering to you, your eyes darting from his face to the slip of paper he was holding out. From the color of it, you knew exactly what it was before grabbing it, the chaperone slip you sent home with Eva and asked to make sure her mother got it.

“You know Mr. Jerimovich, it takes a lot more than filling out a chaperone slip to chaperone a field trip.” You couldn’t help but rub it in his face, a part of you needing to antagonize the older man, to be the winner of every interaction the two of you shared.

His lips curled into a smug smile as he took a step closer to you invading your personal space. The fact that he hadn’t removed his glasses infuriated you, you didn’t enjoy the fact that you could see every emotion racing through your eyes in the reflection while all of his were guarded.

“That little lizard brain of yours sure doesn’t do a lot of thinking does it?” Calling you a lizard was so out of pocket it almost made you laugh, but you bit the inside of your cheek as he continued. “Mrs. Monroe was kind enough to help me through the logistics, bless her heart she also had some choice words about your chicken head ass but I don’t kiss and tell.”

Your arm ached as he rammed his shoulder into it while walking past you to join the group of waiting children and adults. You never hated a student's parent before but something about Mr. Jerimovich just made you tick, and if Eva wasn’t one of your students you surely would’ve ripped him a new one by now.

The conversation happening at the adult's table droned on, you elicited quiet hums in order not to be pulled into the conversation not too keen on making small talk with people you couldn’t care less about.

“Oh Richard, I’ve been meaning to ask about the restaurant. I went by the other day for one of those lovely beef sandwiches but the windows were all boarded up. I hope Michael’s death didn’t ruin the business.” Mrs. Monroe’s voice was laced with what some might call curiosity but you’d known the woman long enough to know she was just a nosey old woman trying to sink her teeth into whatever form of gossip she could.

You had no problem keeping your attention on the complimentary lunch provided by the museum, but then you realized who this mysterious Richard she was speaking to must’ve been and your eyes found the man’s face as he began speaking.

“Nah, just renovating trying to take the restaurant in a new direction.” He wiped his mouth on a napkin, eyes meeting yours before finding Mrs. Monroe to your right.

It was hard to appear disinterested, but it's not like he would willingly divulge any personal information to you. Not that you wanted him to but you couldn’t help but be a little bit curious about the man who raced through your mind every time you ran through hypothetical arguments with him.

“Such a shame that boys dead. A morbid way to go, isn’t it? Shooting yourself in the head.”

The liquid running down your throat came to a stop as you choked on the water. Your airways constricted because of the accidental slip-up, Mrs. Monroe’s blasé way of speaking had caught you completely off guard and now here you were fighting to get air in your lungs as her wrinkled hand patted you on the back.

Relief came soon after, your lungs gulping down the outside air like a fiend, your wide watery eyes locked on electric blue ones across the table. “I’m gonna check on the kids, would you mind helping Mr. Jerimovich?”

It was almost imperceptible but the look of appreciation that ghosted through his eyes was probably the only form of thanks you would get for helping him out of this situation. The two of you rose from your respective seats grabbing your trash before making your exit and stopping by the trash cans before beginning to make your rounds to check in on the students. The air was quiet between the two of you, and not in a comfortable way but more so suffocating.

“So you own a restaurant?” Maybe you shouldn’t have said anything but you weren’t sure how much awkward silence you could take.

You turned to look at him, the two of you stopping in a shaded area of the courtyard, the furrow of his brow enough to let you know he didn’t fancy making small talk with you. You let your eyes fall on all the children, watching as they conversed while eating, doing your best to keep an eye out for anything out of the ordinary.

“Nope,” his voice caught you by surprise, gaining your attention as he stared straight ahead. “I’m just some cog in the machine,” His eyes dropped to yours with little to no emotion scattered through them as he looked at you.

A tight smile lined your lips unsure of whether you should keep the conversation going or let it lapse back into silence. “I uh, I’m sorry to hear about your friend, he must've been struggling.”

His loud scoff proved that you’d chosen the wrong topic to fall back on, his body turning to you hostility lined his shoulders as he stood straight up. “You don’t know shit about Mikey.” The snarl decorating his lips was vicious, his eyes darted around your face daring you to speak again.

“I didn’t mean any disrespect it's just-,”

“Just what? Need more leverage to throw in my face the next time you have a little fuckin’ tantrum.” His words were full of anger, eyes lit up in excitement as though he was just waiting for you to bite, to latch onto the bait he’d set out for you.

And you took it just as easily, “A bit full of yourself to think you take up any space in my mind.” You crossed your arms over your chest as the lie left your lips, it's not like he needed to know that though.

He smirked the rise and fall of his chest brushed against your forearms, “You’re a fuckin’ liar.” His voice dropped an octave as his eyes darted around your face before trapping you in his gaze, “You wanna know how I know?”

You didn’t, but that didn’t stop you from nodding your head anyway, anticipation rolling around in your gut as you awaited his words.

“Because I do,” you frowned trying to understand what the hell he was trying to say. “I think about you and that bratty ass mouth of yours.”

His words were like a scrambled puzzle in your mind as your brain worked overtime to try and understand the exact meaning behind his words. It would’ve been presumptuous to believe he meant them in the way your brain was screaming he did, but what else could it mean when a man told you he thought about you?

The sound of a child crying pulled you from your stupor, dissipating whatever tension had risen between you and the man in your personal space. You wanted to say something, needed to say something but it's like your brain had turned to mush, no thoughts made any sense, no sentence structures that could live up to the words he just told you.

So you left. Turned on your heels to find the student whose wails had only grown louder and hoped your brain would return to its default settings sometime soon. Although you knew you would ruminate on his words long after today.

The time on your dashboard told you it was five minutes past the time you agreed upon for the reservation and if you sat in your car any longer your date would consider you a no-show. You sighed grabbing your clutch and keys off of the passenger seat before slowly exiting the car, a part of you wanting to just drive home and forget this ever happened.

Initially, you hadn’t planned on accepting his offer of dinner, not usually one to mix your professional life with your social life, but upon realizing how long it had been since your last date you figured accepting the invite would be harmless.

Taking one last look in the reflection on your window you steeled your nerves and made your way to the entrance of the restaurant. One last deep breath rattled your lungs before you opened the door and let the delicious aroma of food attack your senses. Upon entering you were immediately greeted by who you assumed to be a host.

“Welcome to The Bear do you have a reservation?” You stared blankly at the man in front of you eyes occupied with tracing the few patches of ink that were visible on his skin, you could tell you were making him uncomfortable as he began fiddling with the cuffs of his jacket.

Your eyes found his once more an apologetic smile on your lips, “Yeah, sorry uh I think the reservations under Vanderbilt? I’m meeting someone.”

The man stood across from you nodding eyes falling to the reservation book on the podium, his finger tracing the name before looking up at you once more. “Right this way m’lady.” He did a mock bow motioning for you to follow behind him, his actions getting a quiet laugh out of you.

You followed him through the maze of tables eyeing the other patrons as you passed them before coming to a stop. A quiet thank you passed between you and the host as he gracefully pulled your chair out for you before letting you know they’d be back to take your order shortly. You watched as he walked off, not ready to be left alone on your first date in months.

“Was starting to think you might not show.” Beau’s words tore you from your thoughts as your eyes flashed to his, an apologetic smile lined your lips.

You tried not to fiddle with your hands, moving them from atop the table to settle in your lap, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”

He waved your words off as though you could’ve been an hour late and he wouldn’t have minded, “Have you been here before? It's fairly new but I think it used to be a sandwich place, the head chef’s some bigshot from New York.”

Quiet hums escaped you at his explanation, you would’ve never come to this restaurant of your own volition, the aesthetics were beautiful, and having only been here for a few minutes you already found it comforting. But your salary wasn’t designed to be spent on an establishment such as this.

“No, this is my first time.” The casual conversation was helping to steel any leftover nerves you had

“Well, I hope I can make it worth it.” He was charming, to say the least, you’d give him that, his words drawing a small smile out of you, maybe this would go better than you expected.

The two of you engaged in small talk a few minutes more discussing which entrees the both of you were thinking about getting before you were finally interrupted.

“Well aren’t the two of you just a handsome couple please forgive my forwardness but you complement each other exceptionally well.” The words were spoken from behind you, you had to stop yourself from laughing at how thick they were laying it on, Beau preened across from you like he’d got the best promotion of your life. “Are we ready to order?”

Beau gave a polite nod as his hand gestured towards you, “Ladies first.”

You smiled eyes checking the menu one last time before turning to give your order, your brain short-circuited at the figure standing over your table. Neither of you spoke, and both of your smiles slowly disappeared as realization set in at the same time.

“Mr. Jerimovich?” You hadn’t seen him since he chaperoned the field trip, usually bumping into Eva’s mom or stepfather during pick-ups and drop-offs.

“Sorry sweetheart, that's an off-the-menu item.” His voice had an underlying tone of humor in it as his eyes subtly traced across your face before taking in what he could see of you above the table.

You stared up at him taking in the crisp suit he was wearing, surprised that he owned something that wasn’t made predominantly of spandex and cotton. Amusement danced through your eyes and your lips ticked up in a small smile the longer you stared at each other. “Do you have any recommendations for what's on the menu then?”

The man stared down at you, eyes bouncing between yours as he rolled his lips in trying to hide the smile threatening to take over his face. “Well we’ve got rave reviews about our steak which I do have to agree with, but that makes me a bit biased.” He paused for a second making sure he hadn’t lost your attention. “But if your taste buds are longing for the sea, our amberjack might be what you're looking for.

You nodded, resting your head against the knuckles of your fist as you continued smiling up at him. “Sounds delicious, I’ll have the Bucatini.”

A laugh shot through him, the small shake of his head almost imperceptible as he gave you one last look before turning to the man across the table. Your own eyes found your date across from you, a surge of guilt raced through you as you realized you’d written off his presence. You listened as Beau ordered, the two men trading words regarding items on the menu before you were once again left alone with your date.

“You two seemed friendly, did you know him?” He was trying to play off at being nonchalant but the curiosity in his voice gave him away.

“Hardly, he’s a parent of one of my students.” You were surprised Beau hadn’t remembered him from the ‘Donuts With Dad’ event, but there was no way you were gonna bring up what happened between his nephew and Eva while you were off the clock. “So, tell me about yourself.”

And so he did throughout the whole meal, you were barely able to get a sentence out before he was back to making the conversation about him. You weren’t sure if he even realized he was doing it but you didn’t care all that much to call him out on it.

You’d zoned out after Beau once again began talking about his job in finance, listening just enough to know when you needed to appear interested. Your mind went back and forth on whether getting dessert is a good idea or not.

“Can I interest the lovely couple in our dessert menu?” It was like he read your mind, two dessert menus held in his hands as he looked between you and Beau, his stare seeming to linger on you longer than necessary.

Before you could even open your mouth to speak Beau’s voice spoke for you. “I think we’ll just take the checks, boss. Do me a favor and split it as evenly as you can.”

There was a moment of silence surrounding your table, you wished you could say you were surprised but that was far from the truth. While Beau initially seemed like a decent guy, the topics of conversation he always seemed to land on told you this was a signature move of his one of those “tests” to see if his dates were interested in him or the moneybags that came with his family name.

“You’re fine with that right, I mean I think it's only fair.” Beau’s words were aimed at you now eyebrows raised as if daring you to say no.

You rolled your eyes, fingers tracing around the wine glass you’d been babysitting for most of the night before you looked up at the older man a tight smile on your lips “We’ll take the check please.”

You watched in relief as his car exited the parking lot, a huge weight lifted off your chest at having been done with that date. He’d left with the promise of calling you the next day but you already knew you wouldn’t be answering that call.

Footsteps sounded from behind you, your lack of self-preservation skills had you spinning around before you’d thought better of it, upon seeing his face you leaned back onto the hood of your car arms crossing around your chest as you waited for him to stop in front of you. His hand stretched out in the distance between you before any words were spoken, your eyes fell to the wrapper in his hands, the streetlights bouncing off of it.

“You’re not trying to poison me are you?” His grip loosened around the square package as it passed from his hand to yours.

He shrugged hand falling back into his pocket, “Don’t think so highly of yourself princess, that would mean I gave a shit about you.”

A small chuckle left you as your eyes fell on the package in your hand, it took you a minute to figure out what it was before you realized it was a donut, a smile tugging at your lips as you thought about the last time the two of you had been together and donuts were involved.

The two of you stood in a comfortable silence for the first time since your initial meeting, neither of you knew what to say to the other seeing as this was your first ever interaction that hadn’t turned hostile.

“Don’t they have rules and shit about dating your students' parents?” His words were punctuated by the motion of him slipping a cigarette between his lips, his other hand using his lighter to light it. You watched as he took a few drags, not at all surprised to find out he was a smoker.

He took a few more puffs of the cigarette before holding it out to you in offering, your nose scrunched in disgust as you shook your head no before responding to the question he asked. “Technically he’s not a parent and the school year ends this week. So come Friday afternoon my students will no longer be my students.”

You looked at him, not breaking your stare as you opened the sweet treat, breaking off a piece and savoring the myriad of flavors as they settled on your tongue. The two of you fell back into that silence, the quiet chatter of Chicago’s nightlife filled in the absence your voices left.

“What the fuck did you see in that kid anyway?” You shrugged, breaking off another piece of the donut and eating it. “I mean who the fuck spends a whole date talking about how rich they are and then splits the bill? Motherfucker didn’t even leave a tip and you did.”

Amusement decorated your face as you watched him pace his tirade about your lackluster date borderline passionate. “Yo and don’t get me started on how fuckin’ boring that kid was. Like what the fuck would he even know what to do with a brat like you.”

Your eyebrows raised watching as he stomped out the cigarette, his body full-on facing you once more. You held the last piece of the donut out to him, eyes falling to his hand as it grazed yours, the glaring lack of a wedding band around his finger intriguing you.

He popped the bit into his mouth, lips wrapping around his forefinger and thumb as you spoke up. “You talk as if you know me.” Your eyes left his lips to hold his stare once more, “Tell me Mr. Jerimovich, what would you do with a brat like me?”

This was dangerous territory and you knew it but that didn’t stop you from wanting to dip your toes in and see how you’d come out the other side. You watched in anticipation as he looked at you, eyes heavy with every word running through his head that he wasn’t saying. His feet moved him forward, your knee brushed against his thigh as he slotted himself between your legs, your head tilting up to look at him from your seated position on the hood.

The air between the two of you was charged, both of you waiting for the other to bite first. You held his gaze determined to not be the first one to give in, his eyes left yours for a moment pools of blue dipping to the curve of your lips. You stilled as his hand reached out, the rough pad of his thumb gently rubbing across your bottom lip before tapping against it, his eyes daring you to open up even a little bit. Wherever he was concerned you would never back down from a challenge, and you didn’t, lips wrapping around the warm appendage as you sucked gently the taste of icing dancing across your tongue.

“I’d take care of this mouth of yours, wouldn’t want you getting in trouble with someone else.” It was like the world had gone silent, all you could hear was his husky voice and the loud pop your mouth made as he removed his thumb.

You could see that his pupils had blown wide, almost positive that yours looked the same, “What if I only want trouble with you?”

There was a split second of stillness before his hand shot out, the roughness of his palm wrapped around your neck with no intention of harming you, just a weight trapping you between him and the car. Without a second thought your hand reached out to wrap around his tie, a small pull on it was all you needed for him to get the message.

It was hot and heavy, all tongues and teeth the moment his lips found purchase on yours. All the months of pent-up frustration between the two of you were being poured into this kiss, your tongues locked in a battle as if whoever won was proof that they were the superior opponent. You took your chance to bite his bottom lip, the motion pulled a low grunt from his chest, his free hand moving to cup the small of your back as he scooted you even further down the hood, your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist practically sitting in his lap at this point.

Surprise shot through you as the pressure on your neck became much more than decorative, as his large palm squeezed, your mouth opened wider in a gasp as he took the chance to shove his tongue down your throat. The eroticism of it all had your legs tightening around him as you searched for any friction, coming up empty as you languidly sucked on his tongue.

His mouth ripped away from yours, lips peppered heated kisses along your jawline as you looked at the stars through your lust-addled gaze, “Your mouth tastes like shit.” You weren’t sure why you said it but it was like you needed to rile him up.

A hoarse laugh left him as his lips and tongue began to lavish kisses around your throat, hand moving to push the sleeve of your dress down as his lips found your shoulder. You were lost in the ecstasy of it all before a sharp pain shot through you.

“Do you ever shut the fuck up?” His question was followed by another bite in the same spot as your head rolled back enjoying the painful ache it brought.

“N-no,” your words were broken off in a wanton moan as his lips glided across the exposed skin of your chest before his teeth sank into the flesh on your other shoulder.

It’d been so long since anyone had touched you like this and your brain felt like it was going into overdrive. You weren’t sure if he knew exactly how to make your body sing or if you were just so touch starved the simplest of touches would get you going.

A gasp escaped you as you felt his calloused fingertips skating up the exposed flesh of your thigh, the position he had you in made your dress bunch up around your waist. His mouth was still decorating the skin of your neck and while you should’ve told him not to leave any marks you couldn’t bring yourself to care anymore, not when his fingers found the elastic of your panties that sat against your hip, and not when his big hand began massaging said hip.

You let out a quiet whine as his hand teased the band of your panties, the hand having skated further under your dress as he snapped the elastic against your skin. Your hand reached out to grip his bicep trying to ground yourself as his teasing made your head spin.

“P-please touch me Mr. Jerimovich.” You knew exactly what you were doing calling him that but in that moment you didn’t care, you just wanted him to stop teasing you.

His head shot up from your throat hand paused at your waist as he stared you down, his eyes were more black than blue now. The feeling of his blunt nails digging into your hip had you wincing, before you could even string together a sentence your mouth fell open on a high-pitched moan as his hips rammed into you the hardened length of his bulge began grinding into you both of his hands on either of your hips as he helped you rock yourself against him.

You could see the enjoyment in his eyes at watching you fuck yourself against him, each drag of his cock hit your clit deliciously the mixture of friction from your panties and the seam of his pants had your eyes welling up with tears as you bit your lip at the stimulation.

“You gonna fuckin’ cry?” You shook your head at his condescending question doing a horrible job of trying to remain unaffected. “You’re a real fuckin’ brat you know that? Arguin’ with me every chance you get, coming to my place of work with that fuckin’ loser.”

The raspiness of his voice was going to be your kryptonite and you needed him to shut the fuck up. Your hand untangled from his tie to reach for the back of his neck, pulling him into a kiss just to get some silence. This kiss was different, a bit slower, and somehow a bit more passionate than the last. His lips moved tenderly against yours, his hands that found a home on your hips doing the same the slowness of the kiss translating to the tempo as he bucked up into you.

Your brain was already too overstimulated to try and understand why your heart began to feel like it was beating out of your chest, to piece together why being held against his chest like this felt like something you could see yourself enjoying and getting used to. Your mouths moved in sync with the tameness of the kiss not matching the ferocity either of you usually bestowed upon each other. The slowness of his hips rocking into yours was the icing on the cake, two bodies yearning for each other, for more than this parking lot tryst.

The sound of a car door closing pulled you from the fantasy drifting through your head, your body arching as far away from him as it could even though your need to continue being touched told you otherwise. His hands quickly left your hips, his whole body caging you in as he looked around the parking lot to make sure no one could see you. The noise had come from across the street, the civilian entering their car none the wiser to the reckless behavior you were engaged in.

It hit you all at once as you looked up at him eyes wide and filled with tears that slowly began to shed. Your palms pressed into his chest shoving him away from you as you hurriedly scrambled to get off of the car, hands fumbling to pull your dress down jumping in place as the warmth of his hands began helping you.

“You good?”

“No!” You hadn’t meant to shout but your nerves pushed you over the edge, you shook your head as he raised his hands in defense. “I’m a teacher and I almost let you fuck me in public. What if someone saw? I could lose my job.”

The consequences of your actions were beginning to set in. You were too busy in your world of lust whatever logic you had seemed to slip away with every caress of his fingers, every press of his mouth. You weren’t a reckless person and maybe that’s what drew you into this situation: a desire to throw caution to the wind, the tears streamed down your face as you ran through every negative scenario racing through your head.

“Hey, c’mere,” you didn’t get a chance to argue before his hands were pulling you into his chest, one holding your head against him while you tried to calm down. “Shh, you’re gonna be okay. I promise no one saw, nothing's gonna happen.”

You scoffed, moving your head to look at him, not interested in any lies. “Mr. Jeri-,”

“Richie.” His hand on your neck began massaging soothing circles into your flesh, the light touch calmed you a bit, “Call me Richie.”

It felt too personal. From the way he held you in the dim parking lot trying to alleviate your worries, to the way he looked at you eyes full of an emotion you weren’t quite used to seeing as you stared at him.

“I…I should go.” You made no move to step out of his embrace, eyes locked on his as his hand gently squeezed the back of your neck.

You stepped out of his embrace, the chilly Chicago air sent a shiver down your spine at the loss of body heat. You watched in silence as he stripped out of his suit jacket, your eyes landing on the smear of your makeup against his once pristine white shirt, eyes falling a little lower to the wet patch you’d left on the front of his slacks, white-hot shame shooting through you. You didn’t say anything as he wrapped the jacket around your shoulders, nodding your head in thanks too embarrassed to apologize for the stains you’d left on his clothes.

Neither of you spoke or made any indication of moving, his hands falling back into his pants pockets as you tugged the jacket tighter around yourself.

“Richie? Where you at man were ready for that little debrief thing you like doing.” The voice made you jump trying to fold in on yourself while Richie stepped in front of you hiding you from view in case the person walked around the derelict fence hiding the two of you from the back door to the restaurant.

“Just uh give me a minute Marcus!” Your eyes stayed glued to his back, wishing more than anything for this whole night to end and pretend it never happened.

He stood still until the sound of the door slamming shut reached his ears before his body swiveled back around to face you. “You good to drive home?”

You nodded, sending him a tired smile as the two of you began walking to the driver’s side door. Digging through your clutch you found your keys unlocking the car, stepping out of the way as he opened the door for you guiding you to get in. You stopped with one foot in the car turning to shimmy out of his jacket before his hands landed on your shoulder stopping your movements.

“Don’t worry about it.” You unconsciously settled into him, his fingers working out the tension you held onto. Your breath hitched as his hands skated from your shoulder to your neck before finding purchase on your cheeks, the rough skin of his thumbs gently swiping the tear stains away.

You felt vulnerable under his gaze, not sure if you were comfortable with him looking at you without that glimmer of anger and frustration in his eyes. He leaned forward unexpectedly, chapped lips burning a tender kiss into the skin of your forehead, lips lingering for longer than necessary before he pulled back.

“Do me a favor and get home safe.” The side of his lips ticked up in a smile.

Before you could lose your resolve you leaned in, kissing the edge of his lips where the ghost of a smile began before stepping the rest of the way into your car and watching as he stepped out of the way to close your door. He watched you drive off a small wave of his hand sent in your direction.

You drove home in a daze, mind still back in that parking lot. You worried your bottom lip between your teeth as your car filled with the scent of nicotine mixed with pine trees the only culprit of the scent was the jacket neatly sat in your passenger seat. The choice of cologne was so odd it was surprising you hadn’t smelled it when you were trying to devour Richie in the parking lot, a smile raised to your lips before you started laughing at the chaotic night you had.

Your laughs died down as you promised yourself that it would never happen again, even though you could feel the growing urge to throw yourself into whatever that was headfirst. But logic was slowly coming back to you, giving you a myriad of reasons why it was a horrible idea and why it couldn’t happen again.

And now all you had to remember the moment was a jacket that smelled like nicotine mixed with some weird woodsy musk cologne and the yearning feeling left behind by his bruising kiss.

a/n: i hope you’re all doing well please enjoy! feel free to interact however you see fit! 🫶🏽

#richie jerimovich x reader #richie jerimovich x you #richie jerimovich fanfiction #richie jerimovich x fem!reader #the bear x you #the bear x reader #the bear fic #etherealising’s 1k celebration

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bambiesfics · 11 months

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⊹ Tag! you’re it. ⊹

(5k wc!)

| SNEAK PEEK: “Fuck me. Almost forgot about her.” The brunette unslung the rifle over her shoulder and head. She threw it a small distance away from you two. The black Nula rifle skidded amongst the twigs, then stopped. You breathed a small sigh of relief amidst your mounting panic. Releasing the terror that it could go off while she fucked herself into you.

⊹ SUMMARY: The concept was simple really. It’s quite literally in the title of this fic. I’m sure you’re smart, reader. So I’m also sure you can deduce what she’s going to make you do. But in the rare chance you’re not that bright, I’ll help and spell it out for you.

You…need…to…run.

⊹ WARNINGS: Predator/prey kink. Strap-on use (reader receiving). Outdoor sex, very rough sex, mean as fuck!Dom Ellie, dacryphilia, ass-smacking, black-out, use of “cock” and “dick” and is referred to as Ellie’s, and other things you’ll have to read to see.

⊹ AUTHOR’S NOTE: Minors & puritans this is not the fic for you. Everyone else: make sure you read this at home. This is genuinely, not safe for work (or school!)

The truck skidded to a stop.

The acridness of burnt rubber twisted its way up your nose, reflexively making you scrunch. The russet haired brunette pulled the keys out of the ignition and slammed the truck's door shut. Her black converses made imprints onto the soft earth.

They were just a few of the many tracks to come.

The slam of the GMC door was like a boom in your head, yelling ‘WAKE UP!’

Laid beyond the car window was a terrifying picture of nature. The forest seemed like rows of shark’s teeth; jagged and everlong. Up along the bank, a crowded family of dark green spruce trees were huddled. Mottled like flecks against the horizon. Nothing could be seen but the green overlaid on top of the clear sky. The trees circumferenced along the bank like a protective dome, surrounding the truck.

This was her idea.

The brunette circled the clearing, her bangs blew softly in the wind. She fixed the M-11 sniper across her back, pulling the dual tabs of her corset webbing to tighten it to her torso. The NULA sniper was heavy. A matte black gun with a wide eyed scope. It was Ellie��s favorite. For hunting; both people and game.

Your girlfriend had known for several years that she’d never be a fan of small firearms. She reveled in the kickback of a sniper.

Firearms.

Running.

Rifle.

Chasing.

Polaroids of memory flooded your thoughts. Snapshots of Ellie pleading relentlessly to convince you to let her use you. Use your adrenaline and terror to scratch a deep deep itch within her. Like a flea ridden dog, your girlfriend had a parasite. And the parasite was the chase. It was a primal itch. One that’d been there since she was a younger girl. It teased along the blurred edges of sociopathy and sexuality.

If you’d really paid attention, you would’ve noticed that Ellie was a little…off. There was an aggression that ran congruent with her boyish teasing and fighting. An intuitive itch at the back of your brain often concluded that Ellie had always wanted to bend your arm back a little bit deeper during play fights. Because she too often enjoyed how quickly your laugh crumpled into yelps.

She’d let out a sudden chuckle during really tense moments, but you were subtly aware that Ellie could, and slyly tried, to get a bit more intense with the floor pinning, with the wall traps, with her power plays. And you suspected she liked it.

Ellie was an awe-inspiring girlfriend, so caring and so sweet; so tender. But you still couldn’t gauge where that hidden characteristic in her temperament came from.

Just how far would she really want to take it?

The surface tension of those memories rippled into obscurity like disturbed water. Leaving you to face the bitter nip of the cool air, and the earthy pine notes that carried itself on the wind.

Ellie had been spending her time studying you from across the distance. Trying to pick apart your thoughts from your micro-expressions. She debated on if the little crease between your brow was tense fear, or if it was exhaustion. Common sense advised her that it was exhaustion; you two had only come out here just an hour after dawn, naturally you’d feel drowsy or irate.

And that pleased her.

Tired would work in her favor. Tired would make you sloppy.

Ellie stepped deeper into the clearing. From your position in the passenger seat, you could see her attempt to feel for the direction of the wind, noting which direction it was blowing her hair. She used the sweep of the wind’s blow on her hair to navigate the direction of which path, in the dense forest, would give her the least resistance.

She planned to avoid that path.

She didn’t want this to be easy.

She didn’t speak. She didn’t have too. Ellie turned around slowly and rooted her feet into the soil. In spite of the distance, her gaze was piercing. She didn’t need to shout, but it was finally time to remove yourself from the safety of the truck.

You steadied yourself on the inside of the door, and used the pane to brace your knees before you dropped from out of the truck.

The sun was a high, white gold. Planting an opalescent sheen on the forest underbrush. It grew brighter and warmer the further behind you left the truck.

Towering above the underbrush, were thick alpine trees; the young and the old. Some of them were beyond being old, and were solidly antiquated. Likely as old as the entire forest itself.

Those alpines were the type of old that’d existed in that forest longer than Jackson town. The type of trees that had seen things not a soul nor an eye would have witnessed. Things, no history book had dared to make a record of.

And today, they saw you.

The sun was shining in her eyes. And she returned back to it her own venomous gaze.

Ellie’s ink moth tattoo moved each time her fingers steadied themselves on the bony juts of her hips. Her evergreen eyes blinked back down to study you once more.

In your timid mannerisms she microdosed on the pleasure of the run to come.

Your back straightened at her voice.

“To set this off, I ran the path six times since last sunday. Shouldn’t take you no longer than ten minutes, fifteen at your slowest. You take twenty minutes, and I come looking for you. Got that?”

Her eyes thinned, then relaxed.

“We’ve done similar patrols around the west wing of Jackson.”

“Like the group patrols and stuff right?”

Your answer was less than stellar.

She itched to grin at your reply, but killed it. Schooling her features back into a placid poker face. “Yeah sure. Those’ll definitely prepare you for today.”

Ellie started stalking behind you now. Eyeing the shoes you chose, how you shifted your weight from leg to leg, how your sleeves were longer than your fingers, and how your fingers fidgeted with its hem.

She pulled back from you. She pressed herself deeper into the gray and dull overcast from the trees. Shadowed by their height and mass, she shouted.

“You get a 120 second head start!”

The air was electric, like power lines running above you. Your fingers twitched, and your stomach tightened. And like a firing gun shooting into the air, she growled.

“RUN!”

Your feet pounded at the earth as your skin braced the whipping wind. Jackson’s forest was miles upon piles of jade. It was a claustrophobic cornucopia of trees. The underbrush scraped your legs with each step you took on the illuminated path of the forest floor. Light speckled from the patterned leaves above you, it looked like a kaleidoscopic.

The earth beneath your shoes was beaten flat from the steps of hikers and runners long before you ever came sprinting down. You’d hiked this path, but hiking and sprinting were light years apart. And the staggering imbalance of the terrain was sending shock waves up your legs. You braced it, a mantra looping in your head like your very life depended on.

Just run.

Your breaths were starting to sound heavier and heavier. Worsened by the regret that was creeping up all the same. Jackson had a system of 5am running patrols that were outlined by Maria on the town’s bulletin. Patrols that you could’ve put your name down for. Ellie did them often, just a short lap around Jacksons gates. She always told you it was only “15 minutes tops”, yet you always regarded that time as an extra 15 minutes to sleep in. Realization dawned on you just as quick as your feet turned around a large spruce tree.

That 15 minutes of running truly did add up.

Just run.

A climbing crescendo of snapped twigs and rustling leaves was all that could be heard whipping about. Louder and louder. Heavier and heavier. An orchestra of sounds; of your heartbeat. Of a burning pain from a persons forceful sprint. Someone was panting, fighting, clawing their way out of Jackson’s forest. You were the someone, but your legs were growing tired.

Your calves were burning as your pace increased, the ache was clawing into the muscles in your lower legs like hot iron. The pain bloomed into your thighs and coiled itself into the pit of your lower belly. It left your breath wheezing and dry.

Sweat broke out on your hairline. Perspiration that would drip down to sting your eyes if you didn’t get home in time. You needed to get home fast. Just as long as you got there before her. Just as long as you beat Ellie to Jackson’s gates, you’d be fine.

All you could do was just run.

You slowed to a stop and cleared a log, you straddled it, holding the large body to steady yourself, before swinging your leg off and hopping back onto the ground. You weren’t nimble. Your girlfriend would’ve cleared the trunk with just the push of her left arm. But you were desperate, anything to not be her prey.

Just run.

Your ears picked up on it, before your brain could process it. The sound was unmistakable. Those were Ellie’s footsteps.

Clearing the log had closed the space between you. This chase was a burning thread. Growing shorter as the distance between you two also grew shorter. Ellies footsteps sounded heavier, more hurried. She could finally hear you too.

You pushed past the haze of pain and ran out of the forest, onto the rocky asphalt in front of the abandoned highway. You slid down the ditch, scraping your palms along before tumbling into a shaky sprint. The abandoned cars in the ditch were as much obstacles as they were protection. But up ahead, growing bigger with every step, were the gates; pillars of protection and strength.

The same voice whispered sharply into your concious, reminding you to

just run.

The only caveat was that Ellie’s conscience was telling her the

exact same thing.

She was behind you. But you couldn’t care where or how far Ellie was. You’d deduced that the strewn jagged pebbles had slowed her down. Converses didn’t work nearly as well on rocky terrain. The rhombus sole could tightly pack gravel and pebbles inside of it, which made for an uneven run.

Jackson’s steep wood gates appeared even larger. A good — no — a great thing. To be dwarfed by Jackson’s gates meant that you were near them. Nearer to the town than you had been a mere minute ago; yet again, still with no Ellie in tow.

You relaxed your sprint into a cursory jog. The relief that coursed through you was electrifying. A tired grin threatened to leap off your face. You were burning, but the chase wasn’t nearly as hard as you had suspected it to be, and for that your nervous system was flooded with relief.

You were so close. Just a few more steps and the lap would be cleared.

Ellie shouldn’t have given you that head start. Jesus, that girl could be so arrogant.

The dual gates were close enough to feel their shade. You took another deep breath, and stretched your arms out. The breeze cooled your skin. The relief from the concluded chase blew a spirit of new life into you. You were done! you had won Ellie’s sick little game of tag.

Now, what you would give to head down to the tavern and ask for a mug of sweet tea and some soft brea—

—Ellie slammed into you, crumpling you to the ground. A tiny yelp ripped out of you like a pathetic puppy. She dug her elbow into the small of your back to put you down, before switching tactics. She instead chose to slide her hand up and grip the back of your neck. She shoved your face into the ground. Holding you down in submission.

“Tag. you’re it.” She giggled.

Your shocked scream was muffled by the ground. Like some hunted doe, only your eyes could communicate. And they strained painfully to the right, hoping to see what the hunter was doing. The pain in the base of your spine ebbed as Ellie removed the puncture of her left knee from your back. She dropped into a crouch. But her hands slid down your back, then down your thighs, then to your knees where she gripped the sides of the joints and forcefully shoved them apart.

In the quiet of the dawn, you were more than a sight to see. You were a picture of desire to drink in, and a terrifying desperation possessed Ellie.

You should’ve ran faster.

Ellie inched all ten knuckles under the band of your jeans, she struggled to shove down your pants and underwear, grunting curses under her breath.

“No way in hell you were convinced you actually had a chance to win against me. I don’t think you realize how much I had to hold myself back. Couldn't let it be that easy for myself.”

Your breath came out ragged.

Ellie loved that.

She barely managed to shove the waist of your pants underneath the crease of your ass cheeks. But seeing as what she managed left her with just the necessary amount of space she needed to work with, it was certainly good enough.

“Honest question.” She paused for a moment and surveyed you. Her hand curled in the air “just to get this straight, were you jogging the entire lap or were you actually sprinting it? I just couldn’t tell.” She mocked.

The sneer her lips curled into was wicked.

But her violence even moreso.

Ellie slapped your ass harshly, intently drinking in the recoil. You yelped and jerked across the dirt. She lunged across to clamp the back of your neck, eyes piercing.

“Stay.”

The sound of a zipper being pulled down made you struggle in her grasp. Your head was scrambling from side to side to better see her. Picking up strewn leaves to tickle the bottom of your lips.

Ellie was having none of it. The fist on your neck squeezed tighter.

She tsk’d next to your ear, your first and now your final warning. She refused to repeat herself a second time.

If only you could’ve seen what she saw. Ass up, face down, bent like some bitch in heat. You were presenting yourself. Your left cheek was squished against the grass and leaves. And your ass was tempting and teasing itself in her face, globes split apart.

God, you didn’t know, but you’d looked so pathetic. Like you were just waiting to be topped. And if that was what you really wanted, then who was Ellie to deny you that?

A wicked grin bloomed onto her face, replacing the sneer.

One phrase boomed in her head.

…my bitch.

Ellie’s.

You were made to be Ellie’s bitch.

Ellie pulled out the harnessed cock, it had a real fat, girthy shaft. With a long vein running along the underside. She drooled at the fantasy of how it’d tug against your tight rim. She slid the dick atop the split of your ass cheeks. Rutting it up and down. Maybe it was a trick of the light, but she swore she saw you roll your hips onto it.

“Fuck me. Almost forgot about her.” The brunette unslung the rifle over her shoulder and head. She threw it a small distance away from you two. The black rifle skidded amongst the twigs, then stopped. You breathed a small sigh of relief amidst your mounting panic. Releasing the terror that it could go off while she fucked herself into you.

Holding her dick against your ass really let her hips take a break from the weight of it. You were such a good doe, letting her warm it between the globes of your ass cheeks. Taking her thumb and forefinger, Ellie angled her tip down, She gave shallow thrusts, reveling in the wet slide of her cock against your labia. She just needed a few more ruts against the slick, to get it as wet as she wanted.

Nimble as ever, the hunter slightly leaned back onto her calves. The bulbous tip of her cock inched back and dragged itself down the expanse of your labia, from clit to hole. Until it caught against the rim of your hole. It barely nudged inside. But the feeling of the tip pressing against it, reflexively made your hole clench a kiss on its head. Ellie whistled at the scene.

Heaven on earth is what this was to her.

“Would you look at that? You want it huh? Can tell by how you’re sucking it in.”

It turned Ellie on so much, seeing her dick just barely touch your hole, just prolonging what you both knew was to come. She was feeling a little violent again, so Ellie cracked another sharp slap on the meat of your ass. The heat and twinge from it, made your eyes widen. A blistering handprint was left where she slapped you. Tears started burning at the back of your eyes and you gasped in a panic. Your reactive jerk from her smack, involuntarily slipped the first inch of her cock into your hole. Your slick coated just the head. Wetness was slowly starting to slip down your walls. And it dripped past the seal of your vagina and coated the top of Ellie’s tip.

Not even pornography could compare; because to the eyes of anyone who could see, the scene between you and her was in every sense of the word: obscene.

You struggled against the grass again. Giving her a beautiful performance of a hunt gone well. Doe-eyed prey shaking fitfully against the grass. Ellie’s intimidating presence dwarfed everything in its path like a dark shadow.

She draped her chest over your back and laid her cheek to rest atop your planted head. Ellie slowly lined up her freckled lips with your ears. It could’ve almost looked like a caress; a sleepy embrace between two lovers. Where one whispered ‘good morning, you up honey?’, and the other grumbled lowly ‘mhm. Just 5 more minutes my love.’

But nothing that came out of her mouth was sweet.

Ellie whispered very lowly.

“I’m begging you—to try to fight me off.”

And with that, and a ghost of a kiss to the shell of your ear; Ellie thrusted the shaft inside, groaning her own pleasure over the shout you yelped into the ground. A sudden intrusion, as alarming as that was, could only be described as malice.

She slowly pumped in more inches of her cock until she felt a strong resistance. She kept testing it, pounding sharp pumps to see if there would be any further give. Each attempt pulled a muffled “n’moh it won’ fit phleese” out of you.

You dug into the grass.

Ellie’s beautiful features transformed into a quizzical frown. Her bushy eyebrows, her full pink lips, and her usually cherubic cheeks, wrinkled in to display a strong feeling of ... .disappointment. There were at least a few inches left of her hungry cock that weren’t warmed inside that slick tight pussy hole.

Why couldn’t you take all of it?

She furrowed her brows, dug her nails tightly into the fat of your hips, and hurriedly bullied her girthy cock into you. She couldn’t help but revel in the way each thrust pulled a yelp out of you like a kicked bitch.

Maybe those weren’t yelps from your lips, but instead muffled moans….

Ellie couldn’t really tell, and regardless, she definitely didn’t care.

Her thrusts were heavy, punchy. There was no space to spare inside of you. Her shaft was molding your hole to fit around its thickness. The cockhead squished against your cervix, pulling a new type of soreness with each pull of it.

“Uhn! Uhn! Uhn! Uhn!”

You drooled on the grass. You took the rhythmic pounding up your abused cunt. Your puffy cervix was leaving wet kisses on the tip of Ellie’s dick, which pulled even more slick from the tiny donut.

“That’s right. Uhn! Uhn! Uhnn! for me baby. Cry just like that. You like being tackled and fucked rough don’t you? Sloppy cunt.”

She mocked.

She was right, it was so sloppy. Your walls were practically drooling along her shaft; and trust her, she could feel it.

Ellie slowly pulled her cock out, only to marvel upon the gorgeous coating of slick that sparkled in the early sunlight. Your milk had pooled along the veins and ridges of her shaft.

There was a creamy mousse ring that wrapped around the base of her balls, frothing from the thrusts.

Ellie had a perverted temptation to taste a bit of that milky coating. The thing was, it wasn’t new to her, she’d gotten a taste of it many times before.

Chuckling to herself, she slid it back in. But with complete knowledge of how intensely full you’d feel, Ellie leaned down to drape her chest across your back once more.

She positioned her torso atop yours, digging her fingers into the dirt on either side of your head to get a solid grip. Dried leaves and grit collected under her fingernails and painted them specks of amber and brown. Her sweaty bangs were sticking to her face now. And they curved around her hairline as she barked a laugh at each rough pounding you took, like her sweet girl.

“So fucking—”

Thrust.

“Fun”

Thrust.

“Watc-hing you—”

Thrust.

Her voice cracked, pounding you was bumping her swollen clit just right.

“Run like.”

Thrust.

“Some weak little prey.”

She replaced her grip in the dirt with finding purchase on top of your hands. She slid her fingers in between yours and interlocked them. She squeezed your fingers between her own, you weakly squeezed hers back. The hunter above you, found just the right footing to put her full body weight into fucking you, and now you felt the stretch and fullness everywhere, everywhere.

No space inside of you was spared.

Who knew hunters could be so mean?

“You feel that? Is it stretching? I wanna know if it burns.” She gruffed.

Yes, yes, and yes. A weepy eyed ‘yes’ to all three.

All you could feel was her. Her cock was nudging past the sensitive swell of your g-spot, bruising the area with her pounding.

How could you not feel it?

Every ridge of her dick pulled muted squeals out of you. And despite how much your neglected clit cried for attention and touch from between its sloppy lips, there was a fiercely intense pleasure that radiated around your body. And the evidence was the strings of glossy slick drooled onto the grass patch below you two. The same slick ran down the underhaft of her cock as she pumped inside you, and collected at the base of her heavy balls. Balls that were building a bruise on your ass, with each stinging connect of her hips to your butt.

Ellie’s sighs and moans were pitching a variation of high and low tones. Huffing like a dog in heat because of how good it felt to be inside of you.

God, the strap was fucking her back. Her brain was growing fuzzy, heavy, needy.

Catching her prey to fuck it, had her mind unraveling.

Who was the bitch now?

“H-hey.” She breathed out

“Your sloppy hole feels s’good. Tiny, tiny pussy clamping on my cock. You making me work for it baby? Work hard to fu— fuck inside of you.”

She screwed her eyes shut. The intensity grew stronger.

“I’ll work as hard as I need to stu-stuff your sloppy holes” she slurred. Her green irises rolled to the back of her head.

Ellie’s grip on top of your hand considerably tightened, which had seemed almost impossible, given their already iron lock.

Ellie rolled her pale hips in shallow circles, grinding inside of you. The friction against your g-spot was dizzying, and from where your nose was shoved in the grass, you grew lightheaded.

As Ellie’s cock made your walls plump and swell, Your vision was slowly growing spotty. Little black dots were dancing across the expanse of your vision. It was unfortunate how little you could breathe, because the barks of pain and whimpers of pleasure that you wanted to release would’ve made Ellie cum on the spot right then.

“Love your pretty pussy. It’s pretty, it’s all mine. All for me. Tiny hole that I get to stuff full of dick—wanna chase and stuff you every day. I wanna be the only one in-inside you. Does my dick hurt your tummy? Want it to hurt you so good. Sorry, m’sorry, but I-I want it to hurt so good.”

Ellie was frantic and erratic. Fever brained and pussy drunk beyond the horizon. She sloppily slurred all her little fantasies in your ear.

The edges of your vision were graying out, your eyes glazed. If Ellie had noticed, she didn’t care.

Instead she obsessed herself with the way she was molding a home for her thick cock in your puffy walls. The same walls were puffy and deep pink inside.

Each thrust from her slender hips was like a zing that dragged pleasure down the ribbed walls. Pressure was building up severely in your tummy, and you were overcome with a strong urge to clamp.

You choked your last whimpering moan into the dirt, and finally let the tension go. Slick milky cum seeped from the seal of your sensitive hole and burst onto the base of her dick. It was frothing and glossy.

Your eyelids grew suddenly heavy. Your vision was tunneling, there was a gray and fuzzy halo around it that obstructed its clarity. You could only make out blurry shapes and colors, only the soft light of the day, just before you relaxed and sleepily went limp.

You had been fucked into a heavy slumber, yet your lower half was still being held up by the girl with the cock inside of you.

She didn’t let up.

Ellie kept fucking you. Frantic and greedy for her own orgasm in your pussy. She needed to be inside of it just a little longer.

She picked up her pace, relishing in the sweet feel of the cockbase smacking her clit. Ellie felt the same pressure in her own vagina rising. Her clit was just as swollen, just as puffy, just as wet and glossy as your hole was on the inside. And Ellie sought a few more angry thrusts to get her over the edge. She snapped her hips forward, and each time you jerked forward in the grass, with your lips forming an “o” and your eyes gently closed.

Thrust.

“Fuck!”

Thrust.

“Please please please.”

Thrust.

“—Prett-pretty my pretty pussy all mine.”

Thrust.

“Sososo tight.”

Thrust.

“Ughhhh!…”

A groan grizzled from her throat.

Ellie squirted spurts of her release down her thighs. Her eyeballs rolled backwards until they were white and veiny, and her hips stuttered with each squirt.

She came all over her skinny jeans.

Her chest rose and fell dramatically as she sucked in deep gulps of air. Ellie’s toned abs contracted with her breathing, clenching and relaxing. Over and over did the muscles dance until her breathing slowly steadied itself.

The hunter pulled out of you and tucked herself back inside her jeans. She barely zipped her pants up, leaving the slick base of her veiny dick still visible to the world’s eyes. She couldn't find it within herself to care, not even a tiny bit.

The NULA rifle was strewn amongst the grass, and its owner walked the short distance to pick it up from the grass. She picked it clean. Wiping the dirt off of it, and blowing off the stuck grass. She stationed the NULA by her hip again, and walked back towards your limp body.

Crescent moon sharpie doodles were scribbled onto the dirty toe box of her converses. The doodles you’d drawn for her one frigid October evening, an entire calendar year ago.

Ellie had found that so endearing, but even then she had been too shy to admit it at the time.

She surely wasn’t shy now.

Despite the fact that her preferred celestial body was still stars, she still held your insistence on decorating her shoes, near and dear to her heart. It had been one of those slow and scary, ‘I think I’m falling in love with you’ moments, that had pivoted the direction of your relationship, unbeknownst to either of you.

Ellie took those same converses and nudged your shoulder. Several times in fact.

In your deep slumber, your body had only moved with the motion of her foot.

A whistle twinkled from her pout.

“….And you’re out cold.”

She reached for your arm “okay come on—get up.” And slung you over her shoulder. It was awkward, it wasn’t easy. The sniper wanted about as much space on Ellie’s slender frame as you did. But she had to make it work. Better than patrollers finding you in the grass with your ass split wide open and your pussy dripping slick like a snail. So she dragged her feet as she carried you, and held the gun parallel to her body.

But she managed to make it work.

She managed all the way to the gates. where she slipped through the back. Your privacy was something she could never risk, no matter how much she reveled in this game.

She managed into Jackson town.

And then into her house, and then into her room, and then into her bed where she tucked you under the covers, so you could sleep the adrenaline and full body orgasm off.

The lull in her messy room was quiet.

It felt like no more than a warm hub, for you and your bold lover. Ellie was tired to her bones, but she worked on the keys of her guitar as you slept.

You’d mewled in your sleep from time to time. And she felt slightly guilty, slightly. She knew you’d wake up just fine. With a bad limp and maybe an attitude to last the day, but still mostly fine.

Ellie dropped her chin onto the guitar, and rolled herself back and forth in her chair.

She mulled over it in her mind, how it’d be kinder of her to just…pull back from time to time. Just so you weren’t wincing in your sleep from the ache. But then she pouted; unsure of herself.

Didn’t you like it when she was mean?

She plucked a key, F major, then B minor. A momentary pause, before her nails hesitantly strummed the strings. They still didn’t sound right. So she tuned them again.

She broke her gaze away from the strings to briefly check on you. You were a sniffling lump underneath her sky blue sheets.

Her chest squeezed at the image.

She knew it was sappy, it was lame. It was the feeling of impassioned affection; of love.

“I know you’ll love this one, whenever you decide to wake up…dork.” She teased.

Ellie strummed the string once again, meditating on the key. She cleared her throat, and whisper-sung her favorite part.

“Shall I stay? Would it be a sin, if I can’t help…” she sucked in a breath, and her cheeks dusted pink. Embarrassed even with no one to bare witness. But this song had best encompassed the ocean of her feelings.

“…Falling in love with you.”

She dropped her head against the body of her guitar.

And smiled into it.

-fin-

1K notes · View notes

kianely · 9 months

Text

”YOU SEND ME RIGHT TO HEAVEN”

i. PAIRING — Leon Kennedy x GN!Reader

ii. SYNOPSIS — Fresh out of police academy, Leon heads back to his hometown to crash with his best friend before he has to move to Raccoon City. The only problem is, you’re there too — his best friend’s sibling. He has been harboring feelings for you for years, so being under the same roof as you rekindles some emotions he wasn’t able to bury. You were in a similar position.

iii. CONTENT — MDNI, 18+, mutual feelings + confessions, fluff, kissing, making out, brief mentions of masturbation, blowjob (Leon receiving), lube, fingering (reader receiving), penetrative sex, protection, consent checks, aftercare, you just graduated college (so around same age as him), banter, he’s like the boy next door, late night car ride, he’s kinda cliche and throws a rock at your window, no mention of parents, I tried to make this more dialogue heavy woo, in Grammarly I trust, let there be no typos

iv. WC — 8.6k

Leon drummed his fingers against the leather fabric of his steering wheel, humming along to the song playing in his car. He was excited, parked outside of his old high school’s friend house — which by extension, was your house too.

He was fresh out of police academy, a soon-to-be rookie at the Raccoon City Department. He packed some bags with enough of his belongings and drove back to his hometown, wanting to spend some time with his good and most trusted pal before he settled down in a new city and focused on his work.

He took his keys off the ignition, got off, and got his bags. His hands were full when he walked up to the front door, so he rang the doorbell with his elbow. For some reason, he felt a tad bit nervous. He’d seen your brother maybe over six months ago, but he hadn’t been inside the place in a while, maybe a few years.

When the door began to open, he was almost ready to say your brother’s name. Instead, he was greeted with a special someone he hadn’t expected to see. You.

Leon nearly dropped his bags. He hadn’t seen you in a couple of years because you decided to dorm at a university. Right. Yes. You must’ve graduated by now.

“Leon?”

God, your voice almost made his jaw slacken. He loved hearing his name come out of your lips.

He didn’t even get a chance to respond — managing to keep his ground when you stepped out to hug him. “It’s so good to see you! It’s been what, like two years already?”

“Woah — yeah, yeah…something like that. It’s really good to see you too.”

You made his heartbeat spike. Your arms around him, the way you leaned against him. Granted, he was standing somewhat stiffly because he was holding his bags. But…he couldn’t resist you — he let them drop onto the patio floor with a couple of thumps before he wrapped his arms around you. He tried to do so in the most platonic way possible, fearing he’d see the light if your brother happened to join the scene.

Leon had a thing for you. Always had. Always will.

He was too scared to do a damn thing about it, in his eyes, you were simply off limits. Like a forbidden fruit, a temptation that couldn’t be indulged in without some sacrifice.

He let his arms linger back to his sides when you pulled away, and he sucked in a breath.

“Come on in,” you flashed him that gleaming smile of yours as you reached for one of his bags to help him out. “My brother’s upstairs cleaning up his room. He said he’s setting up a bed for you…I think.”

“Yeah, he wouldn’t let me take the couch. Said he wanted me to be his roommate, so it’ll be just like old times.”

Leon was hit with a wave of nostalgia as he took a look at the interior, it looked exactly like he remembered. Not much had changed, aside from the addition of some photos, a wall-mount TV instead of a TV stand, and other small details here and there.

“You’ve changed a lot. In a good way.” You spoke up.

“Have I?”

“Yeah, I mean, just look at you.”

He looked down at himself. Shirt. Jacket. Shoes. A similar style as before. And he knew his hair wasn’t any different. What were you getting at?

He then looked back at you.

Oh.

Your eyes were practically glued to his arms. Have you always blatantly checked him out like this? Suddenly, he felt a wave of heat wash over him. The worst part is, you seemed genuinely curious — not like you were ogling him, but as if asking: Wow? Where’d those guns come from?

“It was all the drills at the police academy.” He knew that you knew that, which led him to believe that the point of your observation was to subtly compliment him. “The amount of training was pretty brutal, but I’m ready for the job.”

“I’m sure you are. I heard you graduated at the top ten percent of your class, that’s pretty cool!” You were being genuine, he could hear it in your voice since it went to a slightly higher-pitched tone.

The playful nudge you gave his shoulder made the ends of his eyes crinkle, he loved it when you did that — it reminded him of how things were back then when he visited often, the way you’d nudge him or even ruffle his hair whenever you were happy or excited over his accomplishments. It made him feel seen.

“It was nothing,” he was humble, as usual. “It has just always been my dream.”

“I know…I’m really proud of you, Leon.”

The way you attached his name to the praise just made it sound all the more personal, the tips of his ears felt like they were burning. He bashfully rubbed the nape of his neck. “Uh thanks, I really appreciate that. It means a lot coming from you.”

Leon had always been a complete sweetheart with you. He was the epitome of ‘the boy next door’. He had fond memories of trying to muster up the courage to ask you to be his Valentine’s during high school — the two of you attended the same one and were a year off from one another, so he saw you around. Again though, he didn’t want to ruin his friendship with your brother…so he never asked.

He thought about driving over to your house and throwing a pebble at your window to get your attention, and he’d be holding a bouquet in his hands. Just a daydream, but a fun one to look back on nevertheless. He always gave you presents on your birthday and Christmas, nothing too grand so he wouldn’t get your brother suspicious, but just enough so he could see you light up as you unwrapped the gift.

“Are those your graduation photos?” He took notice of some polaroids splayed out on the coffee table, ones with you with a cap and gown.

“Yeah, feel free to look at them.”

Leon wished he could’ve watched you walk the stage. Yeah, he attended your high school one, but he would’ve liked to see the college one too. Maybe he’d ask if any of your family or friends took a video later. There was a goofy grin on his face the entire time he looked through them.

He was so absorbed that he didn’t even hear the footsteps down the stairs, nor the chuckle you let out before your brother playfully pulled him into a chokehold.

“Dude, really? How are you going to be part of the force like this?”

Leon swatted your brother away with a roll of eyes, all out of love of course — he easily maneuvered out of the half-assed chokehold. “Cut me some slack, I was a little distracted.”

“Yeah, that’s kind of the problem. Don’t you have to be attentive and shit?”

That right there was your sign to leave — your brother was really close with Leon, and you wanted to give them time to catch up. After all, you’d probably be bumping into Leon a lot since he was going to be staying for a couple of days.

Leon hated the way his eyes trailed over to your form as you made your way upstairs. He’s supposed to be paying attention to your brother, so why were you clouding his thoughts? With a very small physical shake of head, he redirected his attention to your brother, nodding along as he listened in to his chit-chatter and caught up with everything that had happened in his hometown.

But in the back of his mind, he knew he was screwed.

You wanted to bury your face against your pillow and scream. How were you supposed to act now that your high school crush was here? Your brother’s best friend. The one you had always dreamed of dating. That was a long time ago. But even in college, you always longed to see him again — to grab lunch and coffee with him and then show him around your campus with your hand in his.

Leon popped into your head whenever you dipped your hand underneath your waistband to relieve your urges. Your stomach bubbled with craving when you felt pent up late at night, even if you tried to think of someone else, Leon was always in your mind whenever you came and muffled your noises into your pillow.

No amount of people you saw in college even came close to Leon.

He had gotten so much stronger. When he hugged you earlier…you could feel his bulging biceps and noticed how much broader his shoulders were. You were sure his pecs were in solid condition too, it made you want to bury your head between them. He had always been fit, but you knew damn well you’d see a six-pack if he took off his shirt.

So for his sweet self to be just a walking distance away was pretty overwhelming. You could handle a day, maybe even two, but as far as you know, he was going to be staying longer. Not as long as a week, but still enough to have you worrying.

It had been four hours since he arrived. You could faintly hear some laughter. That wasn’t a surprise though, your brother’s room was just across the hall from yours.

That's it. No more. You were going insane.

You got up and played some music, not too loud, just enough to drown the other sounds out. It was dark outside now, you opened up the window to let some of the breeze in to ventilate your room.

It was going just fine until you fast-forward to half an hour later.

A familiar set of knocks distracts you from your worries. Wait, never mind. The one behind the knocks was the cause of your worries.

You lowered the volume of your music a bit and took a very quick look in the mirror to make sure you looked okay before opening the door.

Leon leaned against your door frame, just casually — like he didn’t know just how pretty he looked right now. In his defense, you knew he probably didn’t. He had always been a little dense about all that.

“Hey.”

“...Hey.”

His awkwardness was a part of his charm.

“Does my brother need something or?”

“Oh, no. Uh, one of his coworkers called him and I felt a bit neglected, so here I am.”

Don’t you know it? If you had a penny for the amount of times your brother had paced around the entire house getting into a heated conversation over work gossip, you’d have enough to pay off your student debt.

“Trust me, those phone calls can last hours.” You walked back to sink into your bed with a contended grunt, making a hand gesture for him to come in.

Why would you do that? Being in a closed space with him wasn’t a good idea considering all the thoughts spinning in your head.

Leon had never really entered your room, at least not for over a couple of minutes. He didn’t know where to sit despite there being many surfaces: the window seat, your desk chair, the floor, the beanbag you had, your bed, no — out of the question.

“Don’t be so stiff,” you teased, finding the way he looked a bit out of place a little cute. “Sit anywhere you like.”

He laughed before heading over to the window seat. “Just don’t want to be intrusive.”

“You? As if.”

Leon took an in-depth look around — posters of shows and bands, little collections of trinkets, old textbooks, scattered papers on your desk, diplomas and awards plastered on your wall, stickers on the cover of your laptop, a corner with some of your hobbies, a counter with your personal products. It seemed so…you. So naturally, he liked it. It was cozy.

And God, it smelled like you too. It made him dizzy. In a way, it was comforting, like the scent he’d get whenever you passed by him or when the two of you briefly hugged. Though at the same time, his mind was also pulled toward a more inappropriate direction. He’d be able to drown in your scent if you let him bury his face against the crook of your neck so he could nip at your skin and make you a purring mess in his arms.

The idea of being so physically close to you to the point your fragrance and scent rubbed off on his clothes afterward? Now that had his blood rushing straight to the gutter.

You felt nervous, aware of his moving eyes — you were glad the attention wasn’t directly on you, you tried to continue casually scrolling on your phone despite the way your heart was hammering.

“Better than my brother’s room?”

“Mm, I don’t know about that.”

“Pftt, you’re just biased.”

He didn’t have a rebuttal for that, merely shrugging as his eyes continued their exploration. Eventually, he caught sight of something familiar sitting on top of your nightstand — a set of headphones he had gifted you. He always knew how much you loved music, so he had gotten that for you a long time ago.

“You still have those?”

“Hm?” You followed his gaze, and your lips tugged into a smile as you reached over to dangle them in the air for him to see more properly. “Duh! Actually…they stopped working a couple of months back, but they lasted me a pretty long time.”

With the ice broken, Leon felt more comfortable. He went over to sit down on your bed. He wasn’t questionably close to you, but he was manspreading so his knee nearly grazed against yours.

“Is there any use in keeping a pair of broken headphones around?”

“Uh, yes.” You said matter-of-factly as you now clutched them close to your chest, looking at them almost sentimentally. “I cherish everything that you’ve given me. These bad boys aren’t seeing a trash can anytime soon.”

Cute. Cute…Cute.

“You sure you aren’t just a hoarder?”

“Rude.”

“Just a question.”

“Yeah, a rude one.”

“You’re not denying it.”

“Whatever.”

You were killing him. Leon felt his self-restraint diminish by the second. He could mess up so easily. He wanted to confess. To kiss you. Hold your hand. Plant his lips against your forehead. Rest his head against your lap and melt as you play with his hair.

He could do it, assuming you returned his feelings. He was moving to Raccoon City soon, it’s better to not have any regrets, right? He loves your brother, but at this point screw him. Leon has been pining for you for years.

He was incredibly tempted, hanging on a thin string. But he had to know one thing first. “So, are you dating anyone? There must’ve been plenty of candidates in college.”

“Nah, I dated here and there but…nothing lasted long. It’s weird, everyone was focused on something different, so nothing ever worked out.” Because none of them were him.

“What about you?”

“No one.” He replied.

Great, you were both single.

Silence. Again. This time with occasional fleeting eye contact. Leon twiddled his thumbs, his hands resting on his lap.

You purposely shifted closer to him, enough for your thigh to press up against his a little. Wow. He hadn’t expected to feel a jolt of electricity from that.

He looked over at you more clearly this time, his eyes searched yours.

You were losing your shit, drawn to his baby blue eyes. With your nearby lamp turned on, you could see the way his cheeks progressively turned rosy. Your eyes flickered to his lips. They looked soft, as if he put lip balm on consistently. Would they feel like a pillow?

He felt like he was burning, and he nervously tugged his bottom lip between his teeth.

“You know, I’ve always found you cute.” You were the one to break the silence.

“Really?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Why?”

“Your brother would kill me. Take it back.”

“My brother would kill you for something I said?” You scoffed. “You’re funny.”

“You know what I meant.”

You did.

But it hurt a little. Would Leon really hold back on his feelings all because of your brother? As far as you were concerned, your brother had never told you to not go after Leon. And if that was some sort of unspoken rule…then too bad.

Leon knew you had him wrapped around your finger, he didn’t stand a chance.

“Come on, Kennedy. You’re telling me you’ve never thought about this?”

“Well, yeah…But—“

“Just one kiss, please, Leon?”

You just had to say his name, didn’t you?

One kiss. Only one. Yeah, he could work with that. No hand holding or waist holding. Just a kiss, how bad could it be?

“Just one.” He agreed, his voice a whisper.

Leon leaned in, stopping just moments before his lips touched yours. He was nervous. If he was granted even a piece of heaven, surely he’d end up craving more. But he would deal with it. He caved.

His lips gently met yours. God, your lips felt plush. It was a simple one, ending as soon as it began. But of course, it wasn’t going to end there. The two of you were already in each other’s space. The short peck wasn’t enough.

“So, two?”

“Yeah.” You placed your hand on the side of his upper neck and caressed his cheek with your thumb.

“God…” Leon folded, leaning in once more with a suave and much longer kiss this time. His body pressed against yours a little, his body heat mixing with yours.

Just a few minutes passed, and the two of you were making out — slowly and sensually. Your tongues naturally clashed against one another, no rush or doubt, just instinct. Leon tasted good, like spearmint.

“I’ve always had a thing for you,” Leon murmured the confession out in between kisses. He didn’t want you to think he was kissing you just for the hell of it, or for mere physical attraction. You were important to him, the person who harbored his thoughts for the past years of his life.

Honestly, if you weren’t underneath him like this, you might’ve reacted more incredulously. But he was kissing you so intimately, you weren’t surprised. Even so, his sincerity was sweet.

“For how long?”

Another kiss — A pause.

“Since the day your brother introduced us.” Another one. “Six years now.”

You smiled into the kiss, and it prompted him to do so as well. But eventually, you leaned back to look at him. “For the record, I’ve always liked you too. You never made a move on me though, so I thought maybe you didn’t see me that way.”

“Please. I’ve always been crazy over you.”

“Good, that’s how I like my men. Now c’mere…”

With that, the two of you continued kissing. You could scream into your pillow later once you had the chance to process the fact the man of your dreams had just confessed to you. For now though…his taste was pretty damn distracting.

What drove Leon crazy was whenever he managed to hear some quiet noises escape from you: a discreet moan into his mouth, a gasp when he snaked his hand up and down your side, an exhale when he pulled away to kiss the corner of your lips and catch his breath. He hoped you didn’t feel the way he was beginning to get a little hard, not a full-blown boner, but…you got him riled up fairly easily.

Your fingers were threading through his hair, unintentionally ruffling it up. And you figured something out fairly soon — a gentle tug on his hair made him breathless. He liked it.

The music still softly playing in your room kept the sounds of your lips smacking and occasional chatter hidden, but eventually, your mind drifted to the reason why Leon had come into your room in the first place.

“Okay, okay.” You laughed quietly, pressing your palms flat against Leon’s chest and keeping him at a distance. “I think that’s enough…my brother’s probably done with his call by now. He probably just thinks you’re in the bathroom or something.”

Leon’s breathing was a bit heavy, his lips felt all tingly from the amount of time that they had been against yours. “I forgot about that…yeah, I should get going.”

He sat up, licking his lips as if to get more of your remaining taste. He was glad you guys had stopped there, otherwise, there’d be a bulge straining against his pants — which would be pretty damn awkward.

“You’re dangerous, y’know that?” Leon sounded amused. He stood up and went over to your mirror to fix his hair up and make himself look as if he had not just been kissing his best friend’s sibling.

“What are you gonna do about it? Handcuff me?”

“I’m not officially on the job…but I might just have to.”

“Yeah, yeah. You can talk to me about the law some other time.”

Two days had passed since then. Leon hadn’t had many opportunities to interact with you since your brother kept taking him out of the house to stroll around the town and reminisce on memories. Even amidst a trip down memory lane, Leon couldn’t get you off his mind. The kissing, the confession, there has to be more to the story the two of you have developed.

He couldn’t sleep all night, lying on the makeshift bed your brother had prepared for him. He tossed and turned, knowing you were just down the hallway was testing his self-restraint.

The good news? Your brother was a heavy sleeper. We’re talking…he wouldn’t wake up without many nearby alarms or without a bucket of water being poured onto him.

Leon shuffled out of his makeshift bed, threw some clothes on, grabbed his keys, wallet, and phone, headed downstairs, and then made his way outside, cringing a little at the loud creak of the door. He was going to get some fresh air and go on a drive around the neighborhood, he needed to clear his head.

Walking towards his car, he looked up at the house and noticed that one room was still all lit up even in the dead of midnight. Yours. Maybe you couldn’t fall asleep either, thinking about what happened.

He shouldn’t be thinking about throwing a small pebble at your window, but he couldn’t help it. There was a lot unsaid between the two of you. So…he threw a pebble.

With a huff, you got out of your bed to investigate what had dragged your attention from your phone. It wasn’t rare for you to hear a noise outside, but to have such a distinct sound against your window? You just wanted to be safe.

Leon saw you brush your curtain to the side, looking around before peering at him.

He felt small for some reason and motioned for you to come over, he didn’t want to yell in the middle of the quiet neighborhood. Leon leaned against the side of his car as he waited for you.

His hands felt clammy.

“Hey, what are you doing out here?” You asked. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“Yeah, I needed some fresh air. Wanna go for a drive around the neighborhood?”

“You don’t even need to ask…I can finally call shotgun.”

Leon snorted at that. He had a car during high school and would occasionally give you and your brother rides, but your brother always called shotgun (obviously, since they were best friends), so you were always stuck sitting in the back and listening in to their conversations.

“Yeah, yeah.” He unlocked his car before opening the passenger seat door for you. “In you go.”

“Thanks.”

You put your seatbelt on and then looked around his car as he got in and turned on the ignition, waiting for the car to warm up.

“So,” Leon began, looking over at you with a coy smile. “About the other night…”

God, you had been dying to talk about it. In all honesty, you were internally a little bit upset that your brother had been dragging Leon out of the house, even if that was reasonable considering their friendship. But you knew that what happened wasn’t just a one-time thing, it couldn’t be, and you wouldn’t let it.

“Yeah, uh—” You met his gaze. “ I know you’re worried because of my brother and everything but I really like you, Leon. He cares about you, and he trusts you. I don’t…I don’t think he’d be upset if we ended up together.”

“Are you sure? I really like you too, I just don’t want to ruin anything.”

“Are you kidding? He’d probably be hyped about you being his future brother-in-law.”

“Already thinking about marriage, huh?”

“I—no…shut up.”

With a roll of eyes and a grin, Leon turned his attention to reversing out of the driveway since the car was all ready to go. Yeah, he looked really damn attractive while doing that, you couldn’t resist from looking at his arms. There wasn’t anything interesting to look at outside the windows anyway, you had walked and driven by all these houses practically every day.

“So, what made you like me?”

Leon hummed in thought after you asked him that, he kept his eyes on the road, trying to find a way to sum it all up.

“Well, I remember meeting you for the first time. You were breathtaking and held yourself so well, and I was just kinda standing there not knowing what to say. I couldn’t take my eyes off of you, and I remember thinking to myself: no one else has ever made me feel this way after a first impression, you must be the one. It was complicated though, I thought you were off limits, you know…that’s just friend code. And the more and more I came over, the more I fell for you. Everything about you. I just…I dunno. I like you.”

That was his short explanation, he could go ramble for hours about why he liked you, about all the little things you do and say that make him feel like a lovestruck fool.

“The feeling’s mutual…I’ve always wanted to be with you. Like, I can actually be myself and not have to force any conversation. It’s all so natural. I really missed you throughout college.”

Leon was smiling, pearly whites showing as he continued driving.

“We could’ve been high school sweethearts. Y’know…you’re the reason all my relationships failed.” You joked, though, it wasn’t far off from the truth.

“You’re seriously gonna blame me for that?”

“Yeah, you raised my standards way too much.”

“Not my fault.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“Not.”

“Is.”

“Not.”

“Is.”

“...”

Leon knew that he would never get the final word, not when it came to you. He gave you the win.

The two of you must’ve driven around for a little over half an hour before Leon parked back onto your driveway.

“Actually, there’s something else on my mind.” You told him, taking in a breath before voicing your thoughts. “You’re moving in what…like a week? So, what does that mean for us?”

If there was one thing Leon was certain about, it was that he wasn’t letting you go. No, he’d gone six long years just pining over you and not making any moves, he’d figure something out.

“We’ll make it work.”

“But you’re going to be busy. I know how important your career is to you, what if I distract you and screw something up.”

He loved that about you, you were so damn considerate.

“Not gonna happen.” He retorted, turning off his ignition before getting out of the car — going over to your side to open it for you.

He walked side by side with you to the front door, and you were still quietly yammering about how worried you were.

“Hey,” his voice was soft as he turned to face you, he cupped his hands around your face. The caring look in his eyes could cure millions. “It’s going to be okay. We’re going to be okay.”

With that, he gently kissed you, making all your worries fade instantly. You smiled and then kissed him again, tugging on the collar of his shirt to pull him closer. When you pulled back, you laughed a little before asking:

“My room?”

“Yeah.”

The minute the two of you were inside your bedroom with the door locked, you took the initiative and pushed him onto your bed. God, you adored the way his eyes fixated on you, the way his hand reached out to squeeze your hips as you got settled on top of him and captured his lips into a kiss.

A familiar makeout session, just like last time. The two of you lost track of time. But it was different this time: more steamy, a little more fast-paced — especially with the way Leon was practically squeezing all your curves, unlike last time.

“Mm.” He moaned softly, relishing the taste of your lips. His hand slid down to your ass, kneading the flesh as his breathing grew heavier. He was hard, whimpering every single time he got any friction down there.

He let his lips trail down to your neck, squeezing you a little harder when he heard you gasp.

You just about melted, your hand instinctively going to the back of his head to keep him close — the way his teeth occasionally nipped the sensitive skin was heavenly, it made you shudder and tug on his hair.

Leon was careful to not bruise your skin, just wanting to make you feel good like you made him feel.

“Oh shit, wait.” You got off him for a second, taking a quick moment to turn on some of your music. Not so loud that it would disturb anyone, but just enough to cover up your noises. “Okay…all done.”

You then repositioned yourself again. It was getting hot in the room, your hands reached down to tug your shirt off, no use for it anymore.

Leon swallowed thickly, his eyes roaming across your torso and taking every single feature in. He couldn’t resist from letting his hand wander across your bare skin, watching as goosebumps formed from his mere touch.

“You’re…” He whispered out, looking back into your eyes. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself.” You said in return, a grin forming on your face. You reached your hands underneath his shirt. “Can I take yours off?”

Leon nodded mindlessly, he’d let you do just about anything to him. He was getting hot under the collar. He helped you out as you took his shirt off.

You felt a tingle shoot straight down when you saw his body. Pretty. He was pretty. You pressed your hands against his pecs before sliding them down tortuously slow to his abs. Rock hard.

“You’re so muscular now,” you let your fingers trace the lines of his abs.

“Yeah.” Leon’s voice sounded a bit strained. “Police academy will do that to you.”

“I bet.” You leaned down to kiss his torso, littering kisses all over his chest, smiling against his skin whenever you caught onto the subtle incoherent mumbles of encouragement he was voicing out.

“You know what I think?”

“Hm?”

“I think…” you trailed off, your lips reaching his stomach and your hand brushing across the tent that had formed in his pants. “You need some attention down here.”

“Mm…I think you’re right. But uh, are you sure?”

Leon was a bit worried you felt pressured into this. Yeah, it would be great to go further than kissing, but he wanted you to be completely comfortable with it.

“Yeah, I want to make you feel good, if that’s okay with you.”

“It is.”

“Okay, let’s use the traffic light system, yeah?”

“Sounds good.”

Leon was breathing heavily, eyes already lidded as he watched you pull down his fly and his jeans.

Your mouth watered, you had thought about this so many times that it was almost embarrassing. You kissed along his bulge, right through the fabric. You could’ve sworn you felt it twitch a little too.

“You’re pretty excited, I haven’t even done much.”

“Oh come on, you already know you drive me insane.”

You laughed and then tugged his boxers down.

Leon hissed, his cock now exposed to your eyes. He thought about this so many times when he tugged one out, but he never imagined he would have felt a little bit self-conscious. Like, what if you thought it was ugly or something?

Quite the contrary. You adored everything about him,

“Light?”

“Green.”

You planted a kiss against his tip, a gesture that made him chuckle breathlessly.

“Seriously?”

“What? I can’t kiss it?”

“No no, you can.”

You continued placing kisses across the length of his cock, all the way down to his balls. Leon groaned, the tips of his ears started to flush. Never in his life did he think he’d get such treatment from you.

“Now you’re just being a tease.”

You could tell he was desperate by the tone of his voice. “There’s a thing called patience, maybe you should learn it.”

He was going to counter your words, but all that left his mouth was a pitiful gasp when you started licking him. The sound went straight to the spot between your legs, you really wanted to palm yourself.

“Better?”

“Yeah…that feels really good.” He placed his hand on the back of your head, practically petting you as you flattened your tongue against the underside of his cock. He tilted his head back, jaw slackened as he took shaky and shallow breaths.

His stomach tightened up when you reached the tip, swirling your tongue around the sensitive area before finally sucking him off.

“Oh — Jesus.” He’s so sensitive, not used to having such a pretty pair of lips wrapped around his cock. In an attempt to quiet himself down, he chewed on his bottom lip, but the poor guy couldn’t contain the muffled noises that spilled instead.

You were eager to please, using a hand to stroke the base of his cock and taking the rest into your mouth. The combination had him purring, his head spinning with pure want and affection for you.

His hips involuntarily bucked, catching you off guard as his tip hit the back of your throat. His free hand bunched up the fabric of your bedsheets, he couldn’t think straight, not when you were between his legs like this.

Leon hadn’t felt this way in a while, it was overwhelming. And he could feel his abdomen growing warm. Just a little over a minute and he was already close — this was much better than all his fantasies.

“Wait…I’m almost there.“ He settled his hands on your shoulders. He made the mistake of looking down, the way you were peering at him through your lashes would drive any man insane.

Leon feebly tried to push you away. It’s not because he doesn’t want you to continue, no, he’d say the safe word if that was the case. But the idea of his cum filling your mouth…well, it made him feel a little embarrassed.

You were relentless though, taking him so well in your mouth. You were drooling by now, but that did nothing to stop you, not when you were enamored by the way Leon’s thighs were shaking. You had never been so turned on.

The moment your hand fondled his balls though, he was a goner.

“I’m—” Leon couldn’t finish his sentence, hips bucking against you and stilling as he came in your mouth. His eyes rolled back, and he bit his lip harshly to not let out a window-shattering moan.

You swallowed it all, pulling away to catch your breath and lap at his cock to take any leftovers. Leon was panting at this point, trying to recover from the orgasm you had given him.

“You must have a pretty good diet.” You really had the audacity to say that when Leon was still completely fucked out, barely even registering what you were saying.

“Uh…what—”

“Don’t worry about it.”

His cheeks were burning at what you implied: he tasted good.

Leon pawed at you, tugging you up so he could eagerly kiss you. It was sloppy and uncoordinated because of how dazed he was, but you couldn’t care less.

“You did so well,” he praised you, trying to make up for the way you rendered him speechless while sucking him off. “Better than I dreamed of.”

“Trying to flatter me, are you?”

“Oh, c’mon.” He scoffed.

He switched the positions, putting your back on the mattress and settling his hips between your thighs. He was more than ready to make you feel good too.

His hand traveled all over you, across your chest and hardened nipples, across the side of your ribs, squeezed your waist, went down to grab your ass, and then returned to your waistband, fingers tugging at your waistband.

“Can I?”

“Yeah.”

After you lifted your hips to help him take your pants and underwear off, you reached over to open the top drawer of your nightstand, pulling out a bottle of lube and a condom.

Leon was relieved you were prepared, because he certainly hadn’t packed any of that for his visit, he didn’t think this would happen.

“Here, let me…” He reached for the bottle.

He put some lube on his middle and index fingers before reaching his hand back between your legs, teasing your hole a bit before very slowly sinking them in. You inhaled sharply at the coldness of it, letting out that same breath in the form of a moan.

“Is this okay?” Leon asked you, eyes watching your facial reactions to make sure the motion of his fingers weren’t causing you any discomfort. He was a little insecure of them, his training had roughened them up a bit.

“Mhm. Keep going.”

He did just that, continuing to dip them in until you eased up and they fit inside nice and snug.

He looked back down, letting out a quiet ‘oh fuck’ when you started bucking your hips up to meet his touch. God, he was so horny even after his climax, his cock beginning to harden up again.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” he muttered, fingering you at a gentle pace, he swallowed the saliva that built up in his mouth at the thought of being inside you.

“I can, I think we’re made for each other.”

The way you managed a smile while letting out the prettiest noises stirred up many emotions in him. He liked the vulnerability of this moment, just two people who liked each other being intimate and connecting.

“Well, I do too. Just…I dunno.” He fell silent, his gaze returning to your face and watching as it contorted into one of pleasure when he angled and curled his fingers just right.

“Right there?”

You nodded, reaching your hand down to hover it over the one he was using. “Yeah. Fuck…just like that.”

The wet sounds of his slick fingers sliding in and out of you were driving him insane, and a string of curse words left his lips. “You sound so good.”

Each flick of his wrist had you squirming around, your bed sheets wrinkling and getting all messed up. Some of the lube spilled down your thighs, you’d need to wash your sheets after this.

Leon kept going until you came, feeling his cock come fully to life at the way you moaned and spilled his name.

“Leon…” Your fingers dug into his forearms, feeling his muscles flex as he coaxed you through your orgasm. His eyes were glued to your face, biting his lip at the way your pretty eyes rolled back. He pulled his fingers out when your legs closed together in response to the overwhelming presence.

“Holy shit,” you sighed when you regained your senses, eyes fluttering open to meet his.

His lips tugged into a smile, he looked pretty proud of himself. “Felt good?”

“Better than good, but…”

“But?”

“I want more.”

“More as in…?”

Could he be more dense?

“I want you inside me.”

“Oh. Right.”

His cheeks turned red, well, redder than they already were. He ran a hand through his hair and nodded. “Do you wanna be on top or?”

You gave it some thought, reaching over for the unopened condom — there was time for both, but to start, you wanted to ride him.

“I’ll be on top.”

With the repositions all done, you straddled his hips, tearing open the condom packet. Your heart was hammering like crazy, one of your dreams was about to come true. It wasn’t just about sexual pleasure, this was the man you had liked for literal years.

Leon noticed that you seemed to be pensive while putting the condom on him. His hands settled on your hips, thumbs rubbing about the flesh.

“What are you thinking about? Talk to me.”

His caring voice pulled you from your thoughts, you shook your head and smiled.

“Just about how long I’ve wanted this. You know, being with you. I’m really happy.”

God, he adored you. “Me too.”

You aligned yourself with his cock, “Ready?”

“Yeah.”

You curled your fingers around the base of his cock to keep it stable before slowly sinking onto him. You felt the air escape from your lungs. Your jaw slackened and you let out a silent moan until you took all of him in.

“You’re going to be the death of me…” Leon gritted out. “Fuck, I didn’t think it would feel this good. You okay?”

You nodded, feeling full, the curve of your ass was against his balls. “Yeah, I think the foreplay really helped. I’m gonna start moving now.”

You put your hands against his chest and began riding him. Leon groaned in pleasure, his hands kneading your ass and helping you roll your hips. He felt bad that his fingers were digging into your skin but he couldn’t help it.

“Ah…Leon.”

Your mewls made his cock twitch inside you, his eyes rolled to the back of his skull.

He looked so pretty underneath you — his hair splayed out, a thin layer of sweat over his muscular torso, the baby blue part of his eyes almost covered now by his dilated pupils. So pretty.

Leon couldn’t take his eyes off you, not even if they threatened to shut from the way you were working him. No, they were all over you — watching the way your eyebrows were furrowed, the heave of your chest from your inconsistent breathing, how your eyes seemed glossy whenever they met his.

He reached his hand over to your chest, fingers gently pulling at one of your nipples. God, you rutted against him a bit faster at that, making him hiss and trash his head against your pillows. “Jesus…”

“Come on, say my name instead. I’m tired of hearing his.”

He laughed at that, wondering how you could even think of that at this moment. Because personally? He couldn’t come up with any banter, not with the way you were on top of him, turning a fantasy of his into a reality.

“Mm, just like that…it’s yours, all yours. I’m yours.”

Did he know how hot that was? You practically groaned just by hearing him say that. Leon thrust up to meet your hips, not missing the hiccup of your breath or the way your body almost gave out from the abrupt movement.

Honestly…having you underneath him didn’t sound all that bad right now. “Wanna switch?”

You paused your movements and nodded, happy that he asked — being on top was pretty tiring, and you knew he had the strength for it. You pulled yourself off his cock, you weren’t all that sure what he had in mind but you were eager nonetheless.

“Go for it.”

“Okay, just…” He gently maneuvered you to your back with ease. “There.”

“Show me that stamina of yours.”

He rolled his eyes, knowing you were referencing his training. “That’s going to be a little tough with you underneath me.”

He sat back on his knees and stroked himself, his eyes raking your form.

Watching him jerk himself off was hot, you could watch it all night…but, there’s always a next time. Right now? All you wanted was the intimacy of having him inside you again.

Leon bit his lip as he rubbed the head of his cock against your hole, he looked back up at you, he knew there was no way in hell he would last long. But he wasn’t embarrassed over it, he’d been waiting years, it was only natural.

Leon reached to hold one of your hands, keeping his other one on his cock to guide himself in. He took a deep breath, his stomach muscles clenching a little as he managed to get the tip in. “God…I’m definitely not gonna last in this position.”

“You’re not evenfully in yet.” You were breathless though, mind swirling at just the tip. You tried to steady your breathing and relax so he could fit without difficulty.

He laughed at that. “Yeah, yeah.”

A synchronous moan left both of you when he eventually bottomed out against you, taking a moment to get used to the feeling. He leaned down to kiss you, his hair dangling and brushing against your forehead in the process.

He hoisted your ankles over his shoulder and planted his hands beside your head, practically folding your knees to your chest. He didn’t miss the way he got hit with some of your usual fragrance, clearly, you had put some on either the back of your knees or your ankles…he wasn’t sure which one.

“Were you…anticipating this?”

“...What?” You sounded so fucked out and he wanted to laugh.

He chuckled. “Nothing.”

He chose to keep his newfound knowledge to himself for now. He kissed your somewhat sweaty forehead before starting a rhythm with his hips. Your walls were squeezing him, making him a panting mess against the shell of your ear.

You ran your fingers through his hair, tugging and pulling at it whenever one of his thrusts hit deeper than the others.

His hand found your free one, interlacing his fingers with yours. He sighed contentedly at the way you immediately squeezed his hand. He liked this, being close to you.

“Leon…” You moaned his name out, making a jolt of electricity shoot straight through all his nerves. His thrusts got faster, the sound of skin-to-skin contact intermingling with the light music playing in your room.

“Feeling good? Yeah, you’re taking it so well…I’m gonna be thinking about this for months.” He murmured the praise against your skin, kissing your ear before making his way down your neck.

Your reaction was immediate, clenching down on him and gasping, nails digging into his scalp. Hearing such praise come from Leon? God, it drove you insane.

Leon grunted, leaving open-mouthed kisses against your neck like a starved man. He could tell you were close, and he wanted to bring you over the edge of ecstasy — to coax an orgasm out of you before he spilled into his condom.

“I’m close…” you mumbled out, your eyes fluttering shut as you gave into the feeling, Leon was taking the lead, you didn’t have to worry about a single thing.

“I know,” he met your lips for a kiss, grunting and whimpering into your mouth with each snap of his hips. “Me too.”

He kept his pace the same, knowing it was getting you to approach your climax.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” his words were quiet, a little high pitched too, he could feel you holding his hand so tight that your fingers were leaving indents against the back of it.

“Please,” Leon pleaded. “Come on my cock…I need it.”

Your body started feeling tingly, your back arching and your hips trying to buck against him in pursuit of the feeling. You were right there.

“Leon! Leon…” Your head tipped back into your pillow. “I’m coming.”

He felt you squeeze him, your body trembling and twitching against him as he continued thrusting against you in your moment of bliss. But he didn’t last either, hips stuttering when he came inside the condom, feeling his cock get all warm from it.

“Oh…” Leon let out a guttural groan, followed by some whimpers of your name as he stilled inside you — slumping his body against yours, burying his head against your shoulder, and sloppily kissing the area.

The two of you stayed like that until you recomposed yourselves, your breathing pattern returning to normal. Leon mustered up the strength to prop himself back up, pulling out of you with a with a small whimper.

“Hey,” he whispered, a grin on his face as he kissed your cheek.

“Hey yourself.” You told him back, watching as he got up with a noise of complaint to take off the condom and throw it into the trash can.

“Come back here,” you laughed out, extending your arms for him.

“I am, I just didn’t wanna make a mess on your bed.” He came back over, laying down on his side and pulling you close.

“You already did, doofus.”

You turned to your side too. You could deal with the mess on your bedsheets later.

Leon held you close, slowly running his fingertips along your spine, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He kissed the top of your head and stayed like that for a few minutes. Just in each other's arms — letting your bodies calm down after the rush of pleasure and overwhelming emotion.

Leon’s body felt warm to the touch, he would make a really good blanket, a personal heater. You rubbed your hands across his shoulder blades, occasionally letting your nails scratch the skin lightly.

“How are you feeling?” Leon asked, reaching a hand to cup the side of your face, rubbing his thumb against your cheekbone.

“I feel really good,” you murmured, a lazy smile on your face, still feeling a rush of affection for him after the moment ended. “Everything about this feels perfect, I am a little sleepy though. You?”

“Same here.” He returned the sentiment, internally giddy about how everything had unfolded in the last few days. He couldn’t resist kissing you — just a sweet and simple one before pulling back.

“Need anything? A cup of water or something?”

Now that you think about it, your mouth feels kinda dry.

“Maybe a glass of water?”

“Mm,” Leon nodded. “Got it, I’ll be back.”

He kissed your forehead and then got up, putting on his boxers and pants (despite how uncomfortably sticky it felt) and quietly headed downstairs to grab two glasses of water and a small snack too — he knew his way around the house, so it was no big deal.

You wanted his body warmth again, rolling over to the side of the bed that he had been on to feel it once more.

Eventually, you heard the door creak open — revealing Leon, who had a sweet smile on his face as he shut it. He set down a bowl of fruit on your nightstand and then sat on your bed, handing you the glass of water you requested

“Miss me?” You asked, teasingly. You sat up.

“Oh yeah, big time.”

He laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling. He brought his cup of water to his lips, letting out a refreshed sigh after taking some gulps. You had him moaning and panting so much that he was sure his lips would get all chapped.

Leon gently coaxed your legs over his extended ones, caressing them.

“So…” Leon cleared his throat, “I never properly asked.”

“Asked what?”

He had a hopeful look in his eyes, a goofy grin on his face as he asked:

“Can I be your boyfriend?”

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