#kiba inuzuka smut

[tired-biscuit]

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

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

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

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

wc: 22.8k

find part one here!

———

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Good.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s always asking that as of late.

Are you all right?

Is everything okay?

Are you sure?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well, probably. 

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

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

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

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

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

Perfect for him, that is.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just ‘cause!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s right. 

It makes you sigh.

———

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

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

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

“Called it! I fuckin’ called it!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Christ, he’s gotten so old.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s either you or nobody.

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

He blinks, slowly. “What about it?”

“You really think it’s cool?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Awkwardness settles in.

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

“Like what?” he asks dumbly.

“Cosplay.”

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

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

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

“Halloween?” you repeat, even more confused.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just… fed up with it all.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t believe that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, you wouldn’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nevertheless… 

Love.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait… don’t.”

“Mm?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…and end up wrapping them around his waist instead.

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

And yet here you are.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he could.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Would he even be your friend?

What if you’re just a burden to him?

“Hey.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” he says. “Kind of like rain.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smile. “What is it, then?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

———

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that was that.

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

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

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

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

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

It gets better over time, though. You’re well aware that he’s handling the distance way worse than any other regular human would, especially since he’s a semi-mated wolf now, so you try to keep him in the loop as often as you can. He, on the other hand, tries to gives 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

[galaxychaos78]

being roommates with wolf hybrid!kiba, cat hybrid!shikamaru, and puppy!naruto going through their heat cycles and you're the center of attention.

(all banners made by @cafekitsune)

read my first roommate hybrid post here!

Poor puppy!Naruto has his at the beginning of the week and of course it's on your late night grocery run with him. You pick up on it almost immediately; the way he clings to you, the way he becomes snappy and growling whenever any of the other shoppers get close to you. The way he seems to sweat, his cheeks always a rosy red as he tugs and claws at his clothes to try and get out of them. He presses up against you in the produce section, whining in your ear about how hot he feels and how good you smell. You cart of snacks and other foods stay in the aisle and you mentally apologize to the grocery store employee that has to put it all away as you drag Naruto out of the store. As you speed home, Naruto manages to unbutton his pants, moaning loudly at the cool air hitting his sticky boxers. He pulls his cock out and the wet squelch that follows as he tugs at it makes his body shiver. He begs so sweetly and shamelessly, fat tears in his eyes as he cries at you to pull over and let him breed you. That it hurts so much. And what kind of roommate would you be to make your friend suffer any longer than he has to?

"N-Narut-oh!" Your head is thrown back against the plush upholstery of your backseat, the car shaking violently with Naruto's thrusts. His hands dig into the plush skin of your hips and he squeezes tightly, as if you'd run away from him. He's panting heavily, his chest flushed red and shimmering with a layer of sweat, moving up and down with every gulp of air he takes. Drool leaks from his mouth as he whimpers, trying to push himself deeper and deeper into the wet heat of your cunt.

"T-tight! So warm-hng!" A strangled moan leaves his lips and he's too caught up with how good your cunt feels; how it squeezes and sucks him in like a vice, how it squelches with every thrust, with how fucking soaked you are, to even warn you that he's cumming. Thick hot ropes of his cum fill up your pussy and you let out a whine, your hands digging into the seat he currently had you pinned down to.

You can hear the faint sound of cars passing by on the nearby road and you silently thank every higher power that the roads are dark. Naruto looks as if he's about to collapse, steadying himself by gripping the roof of your car. He's panting like he just ran a marathon and you can see from the faint orange glow of the streetlamp above just how flushed red his face is.

"I'll pay to clean your car," He murmurs dazedly as he pulls out, his gaze transfixed on the way his thick seed spills out of your cunt in fat globs as your walls clench around nothing. Sky blue eyes glazed over as he watches his cum trickle under the fat of your asscheeks and stain the black mini skirt and the lace pink panties he haphazardly pushed aside, leaking down down to pool on the plush upholstery of your backseat. His cock, glistening with your arousal and his bright red mushroom tip still leaking cum, hardens almost immediately again. "Just...just lemme fuck you again.."

Cat!hybrid Shikamaru doesn't get his heat until 3 weeks after Naruto's and by then he's already smelled the puppy's scent on you. It makes him irritable a few days before; he glares at Naruto whenever they pass by in the kitchen and he barely comes out of his room. You go to knock on his door to see if he wants any lunch, but you're barely able to knock a second time before he suddenly comes wearing nothing but one of his thin hoodies and his boxers. His face is slightly flushed red but assume that you've just woken him up from one of his afternoon naps. There's a glare on his face and it makes you regret even bugging him. Before you can even apologize, he yanks you into his room and slams the door behind him. He's muttering something you can't make out, and before you could even ask what was wrong, he's pouncing on you. Black ears flicking back and forth and tail swishing from side to side, he mutters something about how you need to help him take care of the problem you caused. And what kind of roommate would you be if you just left him to take care of his problems on his own?

"You're such a tease y'know that?" Shikamaru grunts as he slams his cock in and out of you at a ruthless pace. One of his hands is clutching the fat of your ass tightly and the other is tangled into your hair, pressing your face into his pillows. "Lettin' Naruto hit when you know damn fuckin' well I wanted to fuck you." He's mean, uncharacteristically so. Shikamaru was usually nice (or as nice as he could get). Sure he was blunt, but he was never like this; talking to you so rudely that it makes you whimper into his pillows. Makes your eyes sting with tears as you turn to press your cheek against his sheets, looking back at him with a pout that usually has him begrudgingly doing whatever you asked of him, but now the sight of it only makes his hips snap harder into you and a choked out sob leaves your pouty lips.

His grunts are soft and hoarse, but the way his hips snap against you has the headboard banging against the walls. "Too pretty for your own fuckin' good," He mutters as his bare chest hits your back, his shirt discarded on his floor somewhere as he presses messy kisses to your shoulder blades. "N' this cunt is to die for fuck. Stuff of fuckin' dreams." He wouldn't tell you that he's dreamt about you like this before; that he's jerked off to the times he's copped a feel of your tits, to the way your ass looks in those skimpy shorts and mini skirts. That's what makes him cum deep inside, and he shivers as you mewl pathetically, trying to squirm away from it all but he keeps his cock plunged deep in your pussy. "Just take it Princess, that's it.." He doesn't pull out even as he gets soft, only grins as you slur out his name and look up at him with those tear filled eyes. "C'mon baby, you can gimme one more yeah? S' your fault anyways after all.."

Werewolf! Kiba is last to get his heat and it hits him the hardest. The scent of Naruto and Shikamaru lingers on your skin and it usually wouldn't bother him; hell the four of you are all roommates, it's to be expected. But Kiba's sense of smell is deeper and, along with smelling them faintly on your skin, he can smell their scents on your fucking cunt. No amount of lavender scented body wash and lace panties can cover up their scents on you and you're blissfully unaware. Unaware that everytime Kiba walks into your room for movie nights with an armful of snacks, that everytime you perch yourself on his lap because your bed is too small to fit his massive frame, that he has to physically stop himself from tearing away the flimsy pajama bottom material and fuck himself into you out of jealousy, out of a desperate primal need.

He lasts halfway through the movie before he finally snaps. You were drowsy; your head nestled into the crook of his shoulder, your hand resting against his bicep, and your legs draped over his hips. His arm cupped under your thighs and he could feel the weight of your ass against his arm. And he realizes something, something that has him silently apologizing to God for what he was about to do.

You weren't wearing any panties.

In a flash, your pajama bottoms are in shreds and Kiba's sweatpants are pulled down in a haze. "M' sorry doll, m' so sorry.." Kiba's voice is breathless as he pulls you close to him, your back pressed tight against his chest as one of his big hands stay on your stomach to keep you in place. "Just need to do this 'kay?" He's so sweet when he apologizes that it has you nodding your head, that it has you feeling guilty even though you've done nothing wrong. And what kind of roommate would you be if you didn't let him do what he wanted?

You're losing it; drool leaking out of the side of your mouth and your mind turned to nothing but mush as your eyes roll back into your skull. Whimpering and clutching Kiba's bicep, wanting him to slow down but barely being able to speak. Kiba's arm is draped over your tummy, keeping you flushed against his chest as he mercilessly pounds into your poor little pussy. He's big, always has been, and his cock is no different. He bullied his way into your heat, biting at your shoulder blade to hold back the animalistic growl. The bed squeaks and rocks from the weight of him, from the sheer force of his thrusts. "Hate it," He grunts and for a moment you think he means you. "Hate that those two got to fuck this cunt before me." He punctuates his distaste with a particularly rough thrust that has a loud squeal leaving your throat. "Which one got you first hm? Which one of those assholes stuffed your pussy first?" The more he speaks, the more he ends up thinking about it, the rougher he becomes. His arm leaves your tummy and goes to spread your thighs apart, planting his feet down on your bed before pounding into you with such force, it has all breath leaving your lungs.

The rough slap-slap-slap sound of skin against skin echoes through your room. Through blurry eyes, you can see the bulge of his cock shaping around in your tummy and it has you moaning out. He's so deep, as if he's trying to mold your pussy, your tummy, into the shape of his cock. He's huffing and grunting, leaving messy kisses against your neck, your shoulder. Any inch of skin he can reach.

He cums so much; hot and thick and so overwhelming that it has your vision going spotty. Kiba's shushing you gently as you squirm, as you cry out and let fat tears trickle down your cheeks. It's a downright mess when he pulls out; thick globs of milky white cum leaking out of your abused cunt and soaking your bedsheets with the scent of sex, the scent of Kiba. The movie is long forgotten now and you've barely gathered yourself before Kiba's gently flipping you onto your stomach and raising your ass high in the air.

"Can still smell em' on you pretty. Not gonna stop until that pretty pussy reeks of my cock.."

#I know its been a while and I've seen a lot of hybrid content but never really written a smut like this so forgive me if its not accurate #sorry if this isn't my best smutt waaa🥺🥺 #kiba inuzuka x reader #kiba inuzuka #kiba inuzuka smut #naruto uzumaki x reader #naruto uzumaki #naruto uzumaki smut #nara shikamaru #nara shikamaru x reader #nara shikamaru smut #hybrid au

[aaizawashouta]

Wild

pairing: kiba x fem!reader

word count: 4.1k

summary: he's got your sent memorized. it's burned into his senses, his soul. there is no escaping him.

warnings: smut (18+, minors dni), softdom!kiba, p in v, cream pie

a/n: i had an idea. i liked it. this came out so much softer than i imagined. so here it is. enjoy!

Run.

It wakes you from your sleep. Drenched in sweat but still freezing, gooseflesh rising on your skin. It digs its nails into your consciousness. The only thing that makes sense is your sense of self preservation. You know better than to ignore your gut feeling — that fight or flight instinct. It’s late, no one sees you and your hurried steps leaving your home. Heavy breathing drowned out by the roaring storm around you. It’s your only saving grace, maybe enough to drown out your scent. You're dressed in nothing but a tank top and shorts, the wind whips your hair around your face angrily.

You disappear in the forest, holding your breath as if that would save you. But he’s got your scent memorized. It’s burned into his senses, his very soul. There is no escaping him. Kiba always finds you.

There is no time out here. You don’t know how long you’ve got until he’s on you. There’s no light, barely even a sliver of the moon. A hiss is ripped from you when branches start to tear at your skin. That isn’t good. Fuck. You can’t focus on anything other than moving forward. Breath choppy, hands pushing brush and tree branches out of the way. You're zigzagging, it’s exhausting, but it’ll keep him on his toes. The rain stings, pelting down on your exposed skin.

A grumble comes from beside you, hiding in the dense forest. Your heart drops into your stomach. There’s no way. You don’t think you’ll make it out alive this time. Lightning flashes and you see him — the giant beast beside you. Relief and dread fills you. Akamaru keeps pace with you, never letting you out of his sight. He’s been staying with you more now that he’s getting older. Or maybe it’s because Kiba feels better knowing that he’s there watching over you. Whatever it is, it’s turned Akamaru into your new best friend. Your shadow if only because you also belong to Kiba.

Akamaru grumbles again, breaking away from you. You whimper as you watch him. Would he lead Kiba straight to you? That’d ruin the game, you think. That’s what this is — a game. There are moments you have to remind yourself of that. He’s the predator and you're the prey, but he’d die before he’d ever hurt you. This was your idea after all.

“It’s okay if you run, bunny. It’s the thrill of the hunt that makes me crave you. Just remember, once I find you, your little game is over.”

So preoccupied with Akamaru and the game, you slip in the mud, your shin shredding itself on a jagged boulder. The scent of your blood was going to drive him mad. How can you possibly get away in these conditions? Cursing under your breath, you hobble along, eyes roaming around you. It’s in the air — even with the storm. The forest has gone silent.

He’s here.

Stay calm. Controlling your breathing you creep into a dense area, somewhere safe to hide for now. You would have missed it if you hadn't fallen. At least there was that to be thankful for.

“Little bunny rabbit goes hop, hop, hop.”

It’s sickening how his voice echoes around you. Hidden in the dark, dancing with the rain. Your blood is warm against your rain soaked skin as it runs down your leg. You have to bite back a whimper as your eyes rake through the dark. He’s baiting you, waiting for you to fall for the false sense of safety. As if you honestly believe he isn’t going to pounce on you at any moment. Horror burns in your stomach, heat running through your body. Numb limbs slowly turn to shadowy forest.

You see his eyes before anything else. How they shimmer and shine with desire and amusement. He’s laughing at you. You watch as that familiar smirk grows and stretches across his mouth. When he emerges from the trees, you forget your fear and bristle with irritation. Kiba takes his sweet time as he approaches you, probably waiting to see if you’ll dart like the scared bunny you are. He kneels down to your level, nose twitching before his eyes flash to your legs. You don’t miss the way the muscle in his jaw ticks at the sight of your blood.

His brows furrow when he reaches for you, and you flinch. “Are you afraid of the big, bad wolf?”

You huff. “When have I ever been afraid of you, Kiba?”

“You don’t have to lie. I can smell it on you, bunny.” He sighs, tucking a strand of wet hair behind your ear. “You ready to head home?”

“How far did I make it?”

His smirk is back. “Not even a mile.”

Kiba kisses your pout before picking you up and hoisting you onto his back. You know the real reason he wants to go home is because you’re bleeding. He’s always the one to indulge you. Especially when you’re feeling feisty, wanting to test out his senses. So you sigh, hitching a ride on his back, arms dangling over his shoulders. Warm hands hold you by your thighs, giving you a comforting squeeze every now and then.

You look down when a sudden brush is felt against your calf. Akamaru is at your side, tongue darting out to lick your leg. “You better not have sold me out.”

“He didn’t.”

You don’t know whether to laugh at the annoyance in Kiba’s tone.

The rain has stopped by the time you make it home. Now you're just wet, clothes sticking to you uncomfortably. You swallow, fingers digging into Kiba’s shirt as the warmth of your blood trails down your leg. It’s not until he walks you into the comfort of your home, sitting you on the kitchen counter that you look at the mess the forest made of you. A warm hand wrapping gently around your ankle makes you hiss. Kiba tsks under his breath, thumb spreading the blood along your calf that still hasn’t stopped.

“You’re fucking freezing, bunny.” His jaw tenses as he meets your wide eyes.

You hold his stare, your cheeks burning as you wet your bottom lip nervously. Your heart stumbles as the words fall from your lips in a bated, breathless whisper. "Then warm me up."

His brows raise, though you catch the dim flare in his eyes at the insinuation dripping from your comment. Strip me down, warm me up. He grabs your chin, tilting your head until your lips are inches from his. His thumb brushes over your lips once before his eyes catch your, searching curiously before settling on your mouth again as his thumb makes another lazy pass.

“Don’t want blood all over the bed.”

“Like that’s stopped you before.”

God, where is this coming from? Was it the chase? Adrenaline is still pouring through you. Every time you move electricity sparks at your fingertips, burning your nerves. It makes you pulse, makes you ache. You have to keep yourself from snapping your legs shut, to stop from rutting like a bitch in heat on the goddamn counter.

When he sighs deeply, your heart skips.

"Is that a yes?" You can hear the smile in your voice, and his only answer is a low groan in the back of his throat before pulling your lips to his. Breaking the kiss as quick he came, he pushes you onto your back before you can even thread your fingers through his hair. The cold, hard counter beneath you is a stark contrast to the calloused fingers cupping the side of your throat as his thumb traces the delicate line of your jaw. It's a gentle caress, and you smile at the tenderness of it, especially when you playfully nip at his lip. His returning bite isn't as gentle, and it sends an excited thrill through you.

"Never thought I'd see you play dirty, bunny rabbit." He seems amused, impressed with your scandalous negotiating skills.

"I dunno," you admit with a smile against his lips. “Might be the wild finally calling to me.”

His cheek twitches, kissing you deeper before pulling back to run his thumb across your bottom lip. "The wild." He repeats it like he wants to taste it, like he wants to remember the feel of it on his tongue. Deep-seated satisfaction flashes in his eyes as he says, "It looks good on you."

Heat climbs up your neck and pools in your cheeks, and he grins at the sight before kissing you deeply, sliding his tongue into your mouth with a low growl. It's an approving sound. One that you've found yourself searching for every time you’re alone, every time you’re tangled up like this. Your blood thrums hotter, heart careening in your chest.

The wild feels good — like fresh fallen rain on your skin, a calloused hand on your throat. Smoke and shadow and dark starry nights. It's intoxicating. Heady. Addicting.

And you can't seem to get enough of it.

You run your hands down his back, fingers tugging at the material clinging to his skin. You huff, nails scraping gently as his muscles shift beneath your touch. Kiba only pulls away far enough to help you take it off, the offending material making a plopping sound as it hits the floor. His tongue collides with yours, dominating and all-encompassing, and the heat building between your thighs flares.

"Bunny." His voice is throaty and rough, but his murmur is gentle against your lips. You smile into the kiss, realizing how fitting that is for him — roughly gentle. When he groans your name as you rock your hips against him, you can't help the smallest moan that echoes in the back of your throat at the sound. You've heard him say your name so many times now, in so many variations, but here, right now, with one hand sliding up your stomach, fingers splayed wide and the other gripping the thigh you have wrapped around his waist, this might be your favorite.

"Hmm?" You hum in response, brushing your tongue against his.

His thumb brushes over your pulse in the dip of your throat before sliding down to your chest. Your shaky inhale echoes between you as he palms your breast and skims a rough thumb over your nipple that’s peaking through your soaked shirt. The wet air bites the sensitive bud, but it's soothed every time his thumb makes a slow, teasing pass. Ice and fire, you’re drowning in both, and the contrast is sending your nerves into a frenzy. You arch your back, silently pleading for more.

His lips leave yours, heavy hands all but ripping your shirt off only to dip down to nip and suck your other nipple before rising back to your ear. His words are a whispered taunt that douses your nerves in kerosene, his thumb the lit match that sends your body up in flames. "Tell me what you want, bunny."

Your stomach tightens. You're practically naked under this man, silently pleading for him to give you an orgasm, but the thought of asking for it, saying it out loud, has the air in your lungs solidifying into ice. You thread your fingers in his hair and urge his lips back to yours, and he obliges with a ghost of a smile as you kiss him deeply, rocking your hips against his pointedly. Touch me! I want you to touch me!

A flicker of heat climbs your spine as his hand skims down your stomach, and you moan into his mouth as he slips his hand into your shorts. His teeth dig into your lip with a groan when he finds you with no panties. His thumb grazes your clit before he slides a finger into you, and the pressure between your thighs nearly explodes at the touch. He moves lazily inside you, his thumb barely brushing your clit with each slow thrust of his hand. It's enough to build the pressure in your stomach slowly, but as you rock your hips, trying to add more friction, your heart sinks at the realization that it's not enough. And he knows it.

He has you hanging by a thread.

A frustrated groan vibrates in your throat, and that ghost of a smile grows.

"Kiba." It's a breathless complaint, a begrudging plea. "Please."

"Please, what?" His voice is low against your lips, dripping with satisfaction as he nips at your jaw. "Tell me what you want, bunny."

He offers you one gloriously rough pass of his thumb over your clit as incentive, and it shatters your mind into a million desperate pieces.

"Touch me, please," you beg, unable to bite back your restless moan. It's loud enough to echo around the house, loud enough to usually set your cheeks on fire, but you're too consumed by the heat thrumming through your veins to even care. You tighten your grip on his hair and whisper a desperate, breathy plea against his lips. "Kiba, please, please just touch me; make me come."

His thumb and finger instantly find a much rougher pressure and pace, and your eyes widen, back arching at the instant rush of pleasure that shoots through you.

"Just like that," he groans against your throat. "Fuck, I'd give you anything if you asked me just like that." He captures your lips again, nipping at your lip before sliding his tongue into your mouth, and when he curls his finger, hitting the spot deep inside, the pressure in your stomach hits its peak, and your breath freezes in your throat as your orgasm surges through you.

You're on fire, engulfed in a delicious, mind-shattering flame, burning right here beneath him. An image of a moth going up in flames flashes in your mind, and you can't help but smile at the morbid thought that if this is how you’re destined to die, it's not such a bad way to go.

Death by fire — what an appropriate demise for something wild.

Opening your eyes, your heart races when you meet his molten gaze. Your body is searing, scorching, fiending for him.

Almost as much as your heart is.

You're completely, stupidly, madly in love with him. Not a sweet school girl crush. Not a lust-driven infatuation. Not a rose-colored fantasy. You have fallen for Kiba in ways you didn't even know were possible. You've fallen for the warmth of his lips on the shell of your ear as he whispers salacious sweet nothings. You’ve fallen for the feel of his cheeks pulling up into a broad smile as you cup his face, your thumbs sweeping slowly over his stubble-lined jaw. You’ve fallen for him in the quiet moments, the ones shared between you in the calm of the night, under the sunset sky, or where everything other than the two of you seems to melt away into nothing more than smoke and shadow. But you’ve also fallen for him in the loud moments — the heart-racing, lung-bursting moments, the ones that remind you of what it means to feel alive. You’ve fallen for this man's stubborn pessimism, for his wicked mouth and sarcastic tongue. You’ve fallen for him as a whole and in pieces, in his tiny details — in the way you fall in love with nature.

He presses a kiss to your neck as you slide your hand into his hair. The flames lick at your soul as you seal your fate with a single whispered confession. "Kiba, I want more." My heart seems to stagger with my breath. "I need to feel you...everywhere...all over...inside of me."

Death by fire it is.

If you weren't burning before, you are now. You’re on fire, a white-hot cinder burning in the middle of the kitchen. His deep visceral groan against your throat only drives your pulse faster, and when he pulls back to consider you, your heart aches at the sight of him — gilded in soft moonlight, the sharp angles of his face softened.

His thumb coasts along the soft line of your jaw, but you catch the amused twitch of his brow as he murmurs, "I got you."

Your eyes flutter shut when he drags his calloused thumb down your throat and along the line of your collarbone. It's the same path his lips always take, and the ache to feel his tongue drag up your throat elicits a new rush of goosebumps that race down your chest and shake your shoulders.

Lifting your chin, he brings his lips to your but pulls away just enough for you to catch his faint smile as he murmurs, "I’ve got you, pretty bunny rabbit."

He seems to sense that you’re not breathing because he waits for you to finally take a breath before connecting your lips in a soft, unhurried kiss. Keeping his lips on yours, his hands slide down your waist to and slowly slide down your legs, pulling your shorts with them. His hand guides yours to the button on his pants before finding your hip and sliding his hand down the bare expanse of your thigh. A trail of goosebumps follows in his wake, though with the heat now pulsing through your body, you both know it has nothing to do with the water still clinging to you.

"I forget how good you are at this," you murmur against his lips.

A haughty grin flashes as he breaks the kiss to laugh. "Which part? The orgasms or undressing?" He dips his head to nip playfully at your jaw, and ypu slide his button through the loop.

"At making me feel comfortable," you correct with a smile, though the word doesn't feel exactly right, and when you tug his jeans down his you, I realize why and quietly amend, "At making me feel safe."

His grip on your thigh tightens before he leans down and brushes his lips against yours. It's a heart-stopping kiss — deeper than the soft, slow kisses and infinitely more tender. You thread your fingers through his hair, drawing him closer, and when the heat in your lower belly pulses,you wrap your legs around his hips and urge him closer.

He tugs his boxer briefs down, and you watch wide-eyed as he grasps the base of his erection and slides the condom on in one smooth motion. This is hardly the first time you’ve seen his erection, but it seems even bigger now that it's about to be inside of you.

Heart racing again, you lean back against the counter, weight resting on your elbows. His lips are warm against your skin, trailing down your neck, between the valley of your breasts, but they aren't as soft as they were before, and when he guides your legs to wrap around his hips, you’re thankful for the dominating essence of his tongue against you. The clear, silent power dynamic, the unspoken acknowledgment that he's in charge, that he's in control here. The heat between your legs rolls hotter at the thought, and when his lips brush your throat, your breath lodges in your throat as he grips your hip gently and slides into you. You squeeze your eyes shut and dig your fingers into his back, biting back the whimper caged in your throat as the initial sting of that delicious stretch that only Kiba can give you slowly eases.

Oh, God.

Deep. He's so deep. Impossibly deep inside you.

"Breathe, baby," he murmurs against your throat.

You realize that you’ve stopped breathing until you force yourself to inhale a clipped, shaky breath. He presses another kiss to your throat before bringing his lips to yours and kissing you deeply. His tongue parts your lips, and when his hips begin to move again, the sharp jolt of pain doesn't shoot through you again. Instead, you feel the ache of loss every time he pulls out — a sensation of empty, longing, burning desire.

You moan softly into the kiss, moving your hips with his. Pulses of pleasure ripple through you, and the groan that vibrates deep in his throat sends electricity down your spine. His hand slides down to grip your ass, and he guides you into a deeper, more exaggerated roll of your hips until your clit brushes against him with each thrust.

Breaking the kiss, you roll your head back as each of your heavy pants becomes a breathy moan that echoes around the sleepy house. The muscles in his back and shoulders are taut with focused, self-restrained tension. He's going slower, softer than he usually would, and when a wave of pleasure rolls up your spine that has your mouth falling open with a moan, you don't want the diluted, desaturated version of sex with him. The version you know he’s giving you because you’re hurt. You almost roll your eyes — it’s just a scraped knee. You want to be with him, to really be with him.

Digging your nails into his back, you bask in the small twinge of pain from the stretch still lacing each thrust as you roll your hips against his, desperate to feel him. "More," you moan against the shell of his ear. "Please."

With a throaty groan, he gives you exactly what you want.

More of him. In every way.

Deep, rough strokes, a calloused hand palming the side of your throat, fingers intertwined with your own, locking arm above your head, and demanding kisses that steal the breath straight from your lungs. A complete surrender of control. Complete submission to the only man you’ve ever wanted to give your body to.

His fingers tighten around yours as he kisses a trail to your neck, and when he thrusts so deep that your heart skips a beat, you wrap your free arm around his neck, pressing your lips to his ear as delirious moans slip from your lips. You barely even realize he’s mounted you on the counter, knees braced on either side of you, ass out for the world to see. You can't focus on anything. It feels so good it hurts. It feels so good your body is writhing underneath him — a frenzy of white-hot pleasure.

"Goddamn," he murmurs against your shoulder, and a new rush of heat sears your skin at the desperation laced in the curse. Your heart is a deafening drum in your ear, but your heart stumbles over itself when he whispers against your throat so quietly you can't be sure you heard him right. "Can never get enough of you. I don’t know why you think you can run, bunny. I’d find you at the end of the earth."

His whispered words send you over the edge, and your orgasm explodes deep inside, rippling through you in swells of mind-numbing pleasure. Sated, blissful warmth courses through your veins, touching your skin as if you stepped out in the midsummer sun.

His arms wrap around you as your muscles loosen, too heavy to lift from the aftershocks of the orgasm pulsing through you like gentle waves crashing on the shore, and with a thrust that sends another wave of pleasure through your body like a bolt of crackling lightning, he groans into your neck as his orgasm rocks through him.

Chest heaving against his, you smile at the feel of his clipped breath warming your throat, just above your racing pulse. Threading your fingers through the hair at his nape, you hold him closer, trying desperately to remember this moment — how his body feels against yours, spent and sated and dripping with a scalding sheen of carnal sweat.

He pulls out, and an instant pang of loss resonates through you, leaving a hollow feeling between your thighs. Although any sense of loss is swept away when he lifts his head from your neck, and you savor the sight of his deeply sated gaze that lingers on your flushed cheeks before meeting your own.

His thumb skims your cheek, and you lift your chin to bring your lips closer to his. Eyes dipping to your mouth, his cheek twitches as he leans down to murmur against your lips, "Come on wild one, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Your cheeks warm and he grins at the sight before kissing you and when he finally pulls away, his gaze lands on the floor and narrows slightly as he considers the wet clothes scattered across the kitchen floor. And you know he’s hating the idea of having to clean up. You know he won’t let you do it. He chased you through the forest, ran you down to where you bled, and fucked you. Yeah, you weren’t lifting a finger for the rest of the night.

“Hey,” you say lightly, tracing your finger along his cheekbone.

His sharp gaze catches yours, dark eyes moving gently across your face. You don’t need to say more. The thing with Kiba is he knows. He always knows. He bares his fangs at you, a light growl escaping him and there’s less than five seconds before he’s chasing you through the house to the bedroom where he tosses you into the shower.

Wild, you think.

#kiba x reader #kiba x you #kiba inuzuka x reader #kiba inuzuka x you #kiba inuzuka smut #kiba inuzuka one shot #naruto fanfiction

[chiwhorei]

【 Fᴜᴄᴋ ᴍᴇ ʟɪᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴛʀʏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴋɪʟʟ ᴍᴇ. 】

╰┈➤ I found this?? In my drafts??

╰┈➤ Tags: no edit, drabble, NSFW, A/B/O, knotting, pain, pussy-drunk alpha!Kiba x fem reader

I think Kiba would nearly fuck you dead while he’s in heat. his knot would literally tear you in half and he’s always so worried about going too far. If he looses control, he could break you open cunt. first.

And that’s what you seem to want.

The way your pussy stretches to accommodate his fattened shaft makes his eyes gloss over. No one else has ever taken him like this even when he’s not in heat.

He used to fuck you like you were porcelain, bracing for the splintering of glass and never letting himself let go completely. Even on a normal day, Kiba would still the roll of your hips with stern, white-knuckled grip.

“Let’s not bite off more than we can chew, sweetheart.”

His voice barely passes between his teeth, his canines sharp and glinting brightly.

You’d let him eat you alive. And that fucking scares Kiba.

You’ve been flirting with the point of no return for a while now, grinding on his painfully hard cock when his heat comes on. Seeing how far you can push him until he rips you off of his lap and locks himself in another room.

You had to beg him to let you sleep over tonight, promising to tell him if he’s going too far- but nothing of the sort is coming through the unintelligible garble of moans and pleads your lips are spilling.

He’s been lapping at your pussy for what feels like hours, nipping at your sensitive clit with a measured bite- not too hard, he reminds himself. He’s playing with God tonight too.

Eating your pussy is all Kiba’s confident in doing while his heat is pouring molten lava into his veins, but tonight is the worst it’s been in a long time. Even his jaw feels like it’s on a hairpin trigger.

He should have left town, begged you to stay far away. But you wouldn’t have listened, you never do, and fuck, that makes Kiba’s cock pulse.

Your pussy is drowning him, giving and giving with no end in sight. How many times has he felt the spasm of your pussy against his mouth tonight? Kiba’s lost count. It’s only when you start calling out for him that he rips his mouth from your cunt with a growl.

“I need you Kiba, I need you so much it hurts.” The way your voice sounds like a cry for help makes him dizzy.

Even stone sober, Kiba can’t refuse you, he’s holding onto his resolve by his teeth. Your body’s writhing like liquid gold directly under the swollen shaft aching in his sweatpants.

“You know I can’t let you take my knot like this baby.” He’s begging you more than he’s telling you no. Begging you not to ask him again, because he’s running out of control by the second.

“Kiba please..” your voice is a sirens call, the last syllable still at the tip of your tongue as he’s pulling his pants down. His cock is rutty and thicker at the base than you could have imagined.

“If I tear you in half, just know that it’s your fault,” he pushing in as slow as he can, hand shaking a bit as he holds the tip against your twitching little hole.

Kiba lowers to his elbows, trapping you like a fawn in the jowls of a wolf. His teeth are barred as he pushes in, an inch farther, another, until you feel the swell of his base against your lips.

Fuck. You’re tight enough to be lethal. So taughtly stretched around his shaft that it’s almost painful. Kiba pushes his knot in completely, balls slapping against your ass. Your breath catches, eyes rolling to the back of your head and for just a moment Kiba worries he’s earnestly fucked you to death.

But then he feels it, your pussy constricting and relaxing around him like he’s so, so familiar with. Your hips start to buck in search for more. You need more.

“Kiba, fuck me like you’re trying to kill me. Please.”

How’s he supposed to say no to that?

₊✧˚﹕︶︶︶﹕૮₍ ⸝⸝´ ꒳ `⸝⸝ ₎ა﹕︶︶︶﹕ ˚✧₊

❥ ᴄʜɪᴡʜᴏʀᴇɪ.2023©️ ᴀʟʟ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢs ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ. Dᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ ᴏʀ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛ.

#kiba x reader #Kiba x reader smut #kiba smut #kiba inuzuka smut #Kiba inuzuka x reader #kiba inuzuka #naruto shippuden x reader #naruto shippuden smut #tw.abo

[mcverse]

☆ 𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝: 𝐘𝐞𝐬/𝐍𝐨

☆ 𝐓𝐲𝐩𝐞: 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭

☆ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐚 𝐝𝐚𝐬𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤, 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬, 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐛𝐚 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐫𝐮𝐭, 𝐩 𝐢𝐧 𝐯, 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐬𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚, 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬, 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝, 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠

☆ 𝐒𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐫: 𝐈 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐫𝐮𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐧𝐨𝐭? 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐧𝐞𝐮𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐥.

Given your current circumstances—no, wrong choice of words—considering the position you’re in right now, you can’t seem to recall why you reached out to Kiba for help with your stretching. Had you known it would lead to this, you might have sought assistance elsewhere to avoid the situation altogether.

Not that the stretching wasn’t effective—it did indeed offer an enhanced pre-warm up experience with a satisfying burn—but it came with an unexpected extra obstacle.

You didn't anticipate that he could go into a rut. In fact, you never thought he even experienced those and yet, here you are: manhandled into a matting press, knees placed at head level and Kiba just feverntly fucking you like you were his life line.

From the beginning until now, you’ve chosen not to resist, instead lying there, pliable, and taking everything he gives like the good cock sleeve you are.

The moment he enters you, he's lost in ecstasy, a deep growl reverberating from deep within his chest each time he hits that sweet spot, making you tighten around him. You're reduced to a quivering, whimpering state, with crossed eyes and curling toes as he bullies your poor pussy till it’s left drooling like he is at the sight of you under him.

Amidst the blurred vision and hazy mind, you see him staring at the point where you are connected, his brows furrowed in concentration. In seconds, he meets your eyes, his pupils wide, teeth clenched together, and lips slightly pulled back.

"You haven't a damn clue," he grumbles, tightening his grip on your thighs, his knuckles turning white. "I’ve thought about fucking you like this forever. Just my luck you needed an extra set of hands.”

He was certainly going to leave you with a bruise or two by morning, perhaps making you bedridden for a few days as well. But right now, those concerns were the least of your worries as he leaned forward, persistently driving his fat, knot forming at the base, cock inside you and shifting your legs until your knees met the bed beside your head.

The new angle elicits soft mewls from you. Never before had a man reached so deeply within you, hitting all the right spots and taking control so wholly that it leaves you so submissive.

It feels primitive, almost animalistic, the way he pounds into your drenching walls, his eyes betraying a growing desperation as he observes your face contort with pleasure. It's a sinful beauty, tempting him to devour you once he's done.

"That's it. Am I making you feel good, yeah?," he asks, spreading his own legs wider, his chest heaving as he grinds his hips against yours, his weighty balls making a sound as they connect with your backside. "You look so pretty in this position—like it was meant for you. To be my breeding bitch."

His words, intended to provoke, have the opposite effect on your body. Your desire intensifies, causing your pussy to pulse around him, clamping down tighter. Kiba growls, a wicked grin spreading across his face as he thrusts harder, taunting you, "You enjoy that? Wanting to be my breeding bitch, huh?"

He teases with a sensuous sway of his hips, "Well, choose your words wisely, or I might just make you a mother," he coos roughly, his balls tightening. It's clear that he means every word, and the hungry, glazed look in his eyes confirms it. In the heat of the moment, he's too lost in your sweet pussy to consider the consequences.

Making him a father might be the rut talking, but he couldn't care less at this moment. All that matters to him is getting his fill of you. He's waited a long time to risk your friendship, and if having you appear utterly blissed out beneath him is the result, then that wait was worthwhile.

Your hair sticking to your glistening skin, legs trembling in his grasp—he takes pride in the idea that he can make you feel so good that you become weak, despite you not really doing much at all.

He's the one doing all the work, rutting into you as if it were his fist on an adrenaline-fueled Friday night. It’s him who has you desperately searching for something to hold onto, anything to keep you grounded as you lose yourself on his cock.

He makes you writhe, reaching down to tease your clit, and your moans escalate into delighted squeals as the combination of pleasures proves almost too intense to bear.

He snarls as your squirming turns into an attempt to escape. "Hey, where the hell do you think you're going?" he growls, releasing one of your thighs and pressing on your pelvis with a hand, his thumb ghosting your clit, immobilizing you.

You send him a wounded, pleading expression. "Don't give me those innocent eyes. You wanted this, remember?" he reminds you, reflecting on the events that brought you both to this moment.

You and all your compromising positions, the “force my body to go as far as it can to test your limit” speech. He mutters, “You can’t tap out now. You haven’t even taken my knot yet,” his voice fills with deep desire, his eyes lost in a wild daydream. “I’m going to fill you up completely, just to lock it in. We’ll have pups running around before you know it!”

The thought of having children never interested you, but when he refers to them as "pups" with a wildness in his eyes, it triggers something unexpected in your mind. Your words escape before you fully realize it, "You'd make a great daddy," and before you know it, it's too late.

In an instant, he changes positions, pulling you onto his lap as he rises to his knees. His large, calloused hands firmly grasp both your cheeks, parting them, his claws digging into your flesh before lifting you off him just as he pulls back and thrusts forward, impaling you once again on his cock.

You're left breathless by the force with which he enters you, each thrust more intense than the last. His guttural grunts resonate as he buries his face in your neck. "Gonna make you nice and round," he growls between erratic thrusts, "So big you’ll be walking funny. Right now, it’ll be for a different reason."

You envelop his broad shoulders with your arms, drawing him in so close that the heat between your bodies is almost suffocating. You have no choice but to hold on as he guides you to move up and down on his cock, each motion causing the perfectly curved head to expertly hit your g-spot.

"Right there—yes, yes!" you moan as the tension in your lower abdomen tightens. It's becoming increasingly difficult to catch your breath as he repeats his tantalizing rhythm.

"!!!..." Kiba huffs, his face contorted with disbelief and amazement as he feels your intense tightness. "You're so tight—are you finna come?" he asks, as if he can't quite believe it's actually happening, a long-held dream coming true.

"Hell yeah, baby," he praise with more confidence, his hands shifting to grip your hips firmly, the grip just as bruising as the last.

“Damn pussy’s been greedy! I can barely pull back." He struggles to form coherent sentences as your body reacts to his words and his movements lose their rhythm, focusing on the raw power behind each thrust.

There’s this desperation in his voice that triggers your orgasm. It's like a searing wave of pleasure that surges through you, causing your core to spasm around his cock. A momentary dizziness washes over you, but it's not concerning; instead, it feels like you're floating on the softest, most comfortable cloud.

Your blissful reverie is interrupted when you sense a subtle and unfamiliar pressure at your entrance. It's then that you realize Kiba is attempting to push his knot inside.

At first, it's a gentle, rhythmic motion as he rocks back and forth, his gaze fixed intensely on the act of pushing his knot inside. He applies more pressure, and his mouth falls open as he experiences the start of your pussy enveloping his knot.

"God..." he mutters, wrapping an arm around your waist and gripping one of your thighs. "God..." he continues, gradually inching further inside you.

"It's so big!" you whimper softly, your eyes fixed on him as he persists. The sensation isn't painful, but the stretching is beyond anything you've ever experienced.

You thought you were already at your limit, but you're being pushed past what you believed you could handle. It seems almost impossible, yet Kiba's determination knows no bounds.

"It can fit. It will fit," he reassures you, holding you even tighter as he's halfway in, the thickest part of his base filling you intensely. "Almost there, baby," he breathes out sharply, his body trembling more than yours. Suddenly, in one swift motion, he thrusts the rest of the way, and you both groan simultaneously, each for your own unique reasons.

He eases you onto your back, his hips initially moving at a slow and deliberate pace that teases you, pushing you to the brink of another orgasm. His knot drags against your snug walls, wrestling with your tightness, and he's savoring every moment inside your pussy. His arms quiver as he resists the urge to forcefully pull his knot out and back in, fearing he might hurt you.

Instead, he settles for letting it nudge at your entrance before thrusting up again, gradually building momentum. This new rhythm takes you by surprise, and your second orgasm crashes over you, leaving you breathless as you continue to adjust to the sensation of being incredibly full.

He groans with a feral intensity, his hips moving vigorously against yours as you ride out your high, his mind muddied to filth as he chases his first of many for the night. Despite the knot, his fervent movements prolong your orgasm, allowing you both to share in the ecstasy as he pushes as deeply as he can.

Your hips press firmly against his, and he releases warm spurts of cum deep into your womb. You wrap your legs tightly around him, moaning wantonly as it seems to keep flowing, yet none of it escapes, remaining trapped inside you like a stopper in a drain.

Kiba collapses atop you, his face nuzzling into your neck as he mumbles, "Mine." His lips graze your skin, gently tracing the rhythm of your pulse before he suddenly bites down hard.

You yelp in surprise, "Ow, what was that for?" You attempt to catch his gaze, but he avoids making eye contact, a mischievous smirk dancing on his lips as he licks the wounded skin.

"You should rest up," he suggests, chuckling. "The second this knot shrinks, you’ll be wishing you listened."

☆ ​𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞

#✮⋆˙ 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 — 𝐤𝐢𝐛𝐚 #kiba inuzuka x reader #kiba inuzuka #kiba x reader #Naruto #kiba smut #kiba inuzuka smut #inuzuka kiba #Kiba inuzuka x you #omegaverse

[clementinesandwine]

Jealous Kiba

I have absolutely been slacking on writing any fics, and this isnt my normal content, but I have been thirsting for Kiba recently. So obviously, I have to write this 5.3K word filth :)

✧˖ ° includes~ seemingly modern au, established friendship, nsfw, jealous Kiba, praise kink, choking, dom!kiba, sub!reader, biting, scratching, hair pulling, honorifics, reader called good girl etc.

You all gathered at Sakura’s apartment for her small birthday celebration. She had finally turned 21, the house smelling of booze and excitement, Kiba noted. He was stone-cold sober, having driven himself here, and not as happy as everyone around.

Kiba watched stealthily from his spot on the couch as you stood next to the pony-tailed idiot. Now he had nothing against Shikamaru, it's just that he was standing too close for comfort and he missed when you would stand that close to him, even if you and him had only been friends. You guys used to hang out every day, but recently Kiba noticed you distancing yourself. Probably because you were buddy buddy with Shaikamaru. God, Kiba could practically smell the jealousy on himself. He had no right to really be mad, having never confessed his feelings to you, but still, had all your days together meant nothing? Now you’re outwardly flirting with one of his friends?

You threw your head back, laughing. Kiba noticed the way you placed your hand on Shikamaru’s shoulder, slightly pushing him away. He knew Shikamaru wasn’t that fucking funny, so why the hell were you laughing so hard? Kiba watches as you lean in and give Shikamaru a hug, figuring you were getting ready to leave. He couldn’t help but notice the way Shikamaru held you, one arm on your waist, the gentle rub of his hand on the back of your head as you pressed flush against his chest. Kiba could have torn him apart at that moment, but he calmed himself. He could never cause a scene like that, but if Kiba ever sensed discomfort from you, he would be by your side in an instant. No matter who the person was, if they made you uncomfortable, Kiba was there.

He got up, flattening out his army green hoodie, and walked over to you.

“Hey (Y/N), you heading home for the night?” He asks you.

You jump, a little startled and a little nervous. You had missed Kiba, but distancing yourself was the only way you thought you could get over this stupid crush. You and him had been friends for years, you couldn’t ruin it over some silly feelings. But fuck, did he look good in green, the long sleeves of his hoodie pushed up giving you full view of his muscular forearms.

“Oh, yeah, I’m ready to hit my bed. Just gotta say bye to Sakura and thank her for inviting me,” you respond, looking up into his eyes. He towered over you.

“Let me drive you home then, you’ve been drinking, no?”

“Only like, two. You know I don’t drink like that. I’m fine to walk home, Kib,” you say.

“Well, you know I could never let a pretty girl like you walk home alone at night,” he starts, mimicking you. “Plus, I miss your stupid face,” He says, one hand on the back of his neck.

“Wow,” you say jokingly. “I don’t know if I should be offended or flattered with that two in one combo.”

Your laugh calms his nerves. “Oh come on, I can’t just be giving out compliments, (Y/N). But, you can take it however you want,” he says, flashing his canines.

“I take it you won’t have no for an answer, so I’ll meet you at the front door, hm?” You question, looking at him with doe eyes.

He swears his knees almost buckle with you looking at him like that. Faking innocence. Kiba nods his head like an excited puppy and makes his way to the door.

When you’re done saying bye to everyone, you walk over to the front door. You spot Kiba standing there, rocking on his heels. His hands were stuck in his jean pockets, head down, his scruffy hair falling a bit into his face. He looked so good.

“I’m ready,” you say simply, trying to collect yourself.

He gives you a look up and down, brows furrowed. “Where’s your jacket?”

“Oh, I didn’t bring one,” you say with a smile.

“Tsk, tsk. (Y/N), you know what kind of man I am. Did you really think I was gonna let you walk outside in that little dress with no jacket?” He begins to pull off his hoodie. His black T-shirt underneath lifts along with it, giving you a full view of his toned abs. You can’t help but squeeze your legs together, knowing if you put that hoodie on, the smell of him so close would drive you nuts.

“Kiba I’ll be-” you start, but are cut off by him shoving the sweater into your chest.

“No buts. Put the sweater on please,” Kiba says. You do as you’re told, the sweater falling slightly below your bottom. Almost the length of the white dress you were wearing. “There,” he says. “Much better.”

While you walk to the car, Kiba keeps the doors locked. He knows you would try to open it yourself and he just could not have that. He was too much of a gentleman. When he gets to the passenger door, he holds the handle, unlocks the door, and pulls it open for you. You can feel your cheeks warm at his action. You have to stop thinking of your friend like this, he’s just being nice.

He waits until he sees you are all set in your seat, feet comfortably in the car, before he softly closes the door and makes his way to the driver's side. You look through the tinted windows, openly ogling at his biceps and chest that are oh so visible through his shirt. You realize you do not really want to go home. You want to spend some time with the boy you’ve been avoiding for a month now. As he connects his phone to the radio and picks a playlist, you call him.

“Kiba, do you actually mind if we drive around a bit or something? I don’t actually want to go home, I was just tired of being around so many people,” you say, which isn’t a total lie. You didn’t want to be around everyone. And his hoodie was just a convincing factor for you to stay out with him.

“Of course, you know I love my late nights,” he says, looking over at you. “Especially when I spend them with you.”

Kiba can’t stand himself. For one, he’s being too corny. Two? He is trying to flirt with his best friend. Maybe he’s just confident after seeing you with another man, but he doesn’t think he wants to hide his feelings anymore. “Why don’t we go to our little spot by the water? Listen to some music in private?” he asks.

All you can do is nod your head and watch as he puts the car in drive. You keep looking over to his hands on the wheel, his muscles flexing with each turn. You feel stupid getting turned on by something so small, but you can’t help it. The sound of the leather cracking when he grips the wheel, the veins on his hands. You clench your thighs together, that familiar feeling erupting in your lower stomach. Kiba pretends not to notice.

He pulls up close to the water and turns the headlights off. One of your guys favorite songs starts to play, you make out the lyrics even though the volume is low.

“Oh my god, remember when we used to sing this so loud and your mom would yell at us to shut up cause it would wind up the dogs too much?” You ask, giggling at the memory.

“How could I forget?” He responds. “We did that everyday for weeks. We were always together.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I’ve just been busy recently,” you lie.

“Busy with Shikamaru?” Kiba asks, letting jealousy get the best of him. How fucking stupid.

“Why,” you ask with a sly smile, still very nervous. “Are you jealous, Kiba?”

Kiba gives you a double take, blushing at what you just said, the color of his cheeks matching his markings. “No no not at all. I-i’m just saying you guys are hanging out a lot recently. Didn’t know if you guys had a thing or something. I mean, I didn’t peg him to be your type, honestly,” he says, fidgeting with his own fingers.

“What do you think my type is, exactly?” You ask, leaning a bit closer. You don’t know what it is or where your confidence is coming from, but you can’t help but tease the boy. He doesn’t take the bait, though, only shrugging his shoulders.

“Yeah well, you’re right. Definitely not my type at all. He’s too quiet and laid back. You know I’m pretty quiet too, I’d like someone a little more outgoing to push me out of my comfort zone. Someone really funny, too, you know? A gentleman. Plus, he’s got a really big thing for Temari. We’re only been hanging out recently because he wants me to be his wingman,” you say, leaning back into your seat. You cross your arms over your chest.

“Wingman?” Kiba asks, again with his cute, furrowed brows.

“Yeah, I’m the one that brought Temari to the party. I guess I’m more of a wingwoman,” you say with a giggle. You look over, trying to maintain eye contact, but he keeps looking away.

“Oh okay, so when are you gonna start hanging out with me again,” he asks, leaning back in his seat. A stupid smirk plastered on his face. “Or is there more to ditching me than you’re letting on?”

You push his shoulder, admiring the feel of his muscle under your hand, only for a second. “No there’s nothing, you idiot. I miss hanging out with you.”

“Yeah well I’ve been missing you. And don’t tell Akamaru I said this, but he misses you too,” Kiba laughs. “If I’m being honest, I might’ve been a little jealous of Shikamaru,” he confesses. He knows you won’t judge him for saying that.

“Why’s that?” you ask, innocently. Your heart starts beating faster at the thought that Kiba is jealous of someone else for stealing you away.

“You’re my girl,” he says, looking up through his lashes.

“Don’t say that, stupid. You’re being so mushy.”

“But it’s true, you are my girl,” Kiba says. He knows Shikamaru isn’t a problem anymore, but he can’t stand the idea of you being with any man. He needs to make a move, even if it ruins the friendship. At least then he would know he tried. He can see your blush spreading across your face. You are no longer teasing Kiba, he always comes back 10 times stronger, your lips held in a thin line. “You don’t want to be my girl?” He asks.

You squeeze your thighs at his words and look down, no idea how to respond. “I-,” you start, but it goes nowhere. Your stomach is spinning.

Kiba slowly places his hand under your chin and brings you to face him. “What is it, sweetheart?”

Honestly, it's easier for him to be this soft with you, having not seen you for weeks. It's like all this time being away has given him the courage to finally open up. You still can’t answer, but Kiba can smell you. Smell the slight arousal. Notice how you have your hands neatly folded in your lap, squeezing your plush thighs together. All he can think about is being suffocated by those thighs. Kiba can’t believe his own confidence, but he finds it harder to believe how easy it is to turn you on. And how cute you are.

He leans into your ear. “You know,” he whispers. “The only thing I can think about is kissing those pretty lips of yours.”

You feel your heart stop. “Do it, then,” you whisper back.

He’s on you in a second, lips molding together like art. His hand runs up the back of your head, pushing you closer into his mouth. You shiver at his touch. Kiba licks your lower lip, wanting allowance to fully explore your mouth. You part your lips slightly, letting him in. You can taste the mint on his tongue as your hand slides over to rest on his chest. Kiba’s breath hitches when he feels your delicate fingers slide up to his neck and back down to his chest. You pull away at the sound.

“I-I’m sorry,” you say quickly, bringing your hand up to wipe your mouth. He snatches your hand before it reaches your mouth.

“Why are you apologizing, cutie? You getting flustered?” He asks. Of course he’s gonna be cocky now, knowing you want him the way he wants you.

“I just… I don’t want this to ruin anything, I just…” you can't find the words.

“I want you, (Y/N). I can smell that you want me too. How long have you been hiding it?” Kiba asks. You remain silent. “Come here, baby, come sit in my lap,” he says, pulling your arm slightly. You follow his orders, always having been so obedient. It turns Kiba on to no end and he can feel himself straining in his pants. The thought of fucking you sensless in his car floods his mind.

“I’ve been lying to you for a long time, (Y/N). I don’t want to be your friend anymore,” he says, kissing the corner of your lip to your jawline and down your neck. “I want you to really be my girl.”

You whine at the feeling of his tongue on your neck. “Can I touch you here?” He asks, placing his hands on your hips lightly.

“Yes… please.”

His lips are back on yours, hands gripping your waist and sliding up slightly, smooth fingers gliding up your back. Your hands are running up over his biceps, on his chest, fingers curling into his hair. You can’t help yourself, having finally been given the chance to touch the boy of your dreams. You can’t help but moan when his teeth graze your ear.

“Shh, don’t do that. You can’t handle what comes next, yet,” Kiba says. He doesn't want to hurt you.

“I-I can,” You grind your hips down, causing him to groan in return. He tightens his hold on your hips. “Please Kiba, I want it, want you,” you beg. He’s silent and you become overly aware of the situation you’re in. Sitting in your best friend's lap, practically drooling at the thought of him touching you. You’re afraid you went too far.

He stares at you intently before grinding your hips against him again. “How am I supposed to say no when you ask all sweet like that, hm? Look so fucking cute in my sweater. Always act so innocent, but you want me to ruin you, huh?”

He’s rambling now, sliding your hips against his even harder. You go to kiss his neck, biting slightly, when he lets out a hiss. “You gonna let me touch you underneath this cute little dress? Gonna let me take it off?” he growls into your ear. You can feel yourself slick from just his words.

“Please, Kiba. Touch me, I want you to touch me,” you whine.

“Where, baby? You want me to touch you here?” he says, letting his thumb graze over the wet patch forming in your panties. You gasp at his touch, hips bucking into his hand. “So sensitive,” he whispers.

“Don’t tease me, Kiba.”

“I won’t if you keep saying my name like that,” he responds, canines flashing through his smirk.

Your lips crash into his again, his hands sliding up under your dress. He palms the plush of your thigh, squeezes your ass and drags you closer against him. You move your hips against him as he slides his hands up, slowly taking off the hoodie and dress in one go. You’re embarrassed to admit you weren’t wearing a bra, the cool air causing your nipples to harden immediately.

Kiba throws his head to the side, swearing under his breath. “No bra, baby?” He smirks, kissing your chest.

You shy away. “They- they’re uncomfortable… never wear ‘em,” you whisper.

His thumb swipes over your nipple and you arch into him. “They’re so perfect, you’re so fucking perfect.” He’s practically devouring you, leaving purple and pink bruises all over your chest, collar bones, wherever he can get his mouth. He needs to mark you, show the world you belong to him, claiming you.

“Kibaaa,” you whine.

“Whaaat?” he asks back, mimicking you. He smiles softly, bumping his nose to yours.

You become shy all over. “Can, uh, can we go in the back?” you ask. Your body is pressed to his chest, hiding yourself slightly.

“Fuck yes, we can go in the back. Go ahead baby,” he says. You climb back and cover yourself with the hoodie as he makes his way out of the car and walks to the back seat. Opening the door, he climbs in and notices the hoodie. “Take that off sweetheart, let me see my pretty girl.”

He's back on you in a second, kissing you roughly, pulling you against him while sliding his hands up your back. He gets you onto your back and rolls up the hoodie into a pillow. After placing it under your head, he places his left hand on your cheek, kissing you softer this time. More passionate. His right hand slides lower, cupping you gently and placing little pressure. You grind up into his hand and he can’t help but grind into the seat. Kiba is unbelievably hard, especially with seeing how needy you are for him. He kisses his way down till he makes it to your sweet cunt. It's a tight squeeze, but it's all worth it. He has been smelling your arousal for over an hour now, he needs to taste you on his tongue.

Kiba takes a look at your cute, lace panties, noting the wet spot that's formed in the center. “These are cute,” he says, toying with the fabric.

You’re looking down at him, trying to muster up the courage to say something. “Th-Thought you didn’t just give out compliments,” you say.

Kiba kisses your thigh dangerously close to your core and responds, “Baby, I would give you any and everything.”

His fingers loop under the waist of your panties as he looks up at you for permission. You nod your head slightly and he pulls them off in one swift motion, holding them to his nose and inhaling sharply. You clamp your thighs shut, shy from his action.

“You smell so fucking good. Open your legs, babygirl, let me taste you. Please?”

You do as you’re told and it makes his cock twitch, still caged in by his pants. The way you respond, giving him everything he asks for, drives him mad. He takes a second to admire you, your body, the slick gathered on that pretty pussy of yours. He slides one hand up your thigh, rubbing softly, while the other uses his middle and ring finger to swipe through your folds. Your hips thrust upwards as he pulls the fingers to his mouth, absolutely drunk off your arousal.

He groans at the taste, his breath fanning over your dripping core, causing you to clench. Kiba is already addicted to you, needing to feel you everywhere. He kisses your inner thigh, mere inches away from where you need him most. The feeling of his teeth sinking into the soft flesh sends a shiver up your spine and leaves your mouth hanging open.

Kiba softly kisses your clit before licking a stripe through your folds. He curses himself for not trying to get with you sooner, already addicted to your taste. His tongue teases your hole before swirling it around your clit. Kiba’s hand slides up your waist slowly as he works his tongue on your most sensitive part, your moans only spurring him on. His fingers slide over your nipple, pinching softly, and you arch into him, grinding into his mouth. He moans into you, the vibrations adding to your pleasure and you can’t help but squeeze your legs around him. He slides his other hand up to force your legs back open, while his other leaves your nipple to wrap around your throat. He squeezes softly.

You gasp and your hands fly down to his hair, wrapping your fingers around his brown locks and tugging. He growls into you, making you moan, “Kiba o.. oh fuck, please,” you beg, not sure what for. He hums back to you, the vibrations making you tremble again.

He pulls his face away, only darting his tongue out to play with your clit, while the hand holding your leg open reaches for your entrance. “So fucking good,” he mumbles against you. “Such a sweet, little pussy for me.”

Kiba enters you slowly with one finger and you pull his hair harder. He feels like he’s about to burst, but he knows he has to get you ready. Wants you to cum on his fingers first. You’re getting louder, moaning over the music, when he adds a second finger. Kiba curls his fingers upwards and finds your spot almost immediately, as if he already knew your body inside and out. With his fingers inside you, he pushes his face back into you, circling his lips around your clit and sucking softly. You wonder where he got such skills for a moment and it makes you jealous, which doesn’t last long, when you feel his hand slowly slide down from your neck to your waist.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck K-Kiba I’m cl-close,” you stutter out.

“I know baby, you’re clenching around my fingers. So tight,” he mumbles back. “Go ahead, cum for me. I need to taste you. That’s it, good girl.”

That's all you needed to send you over the edge. That neat, little coil wound up so perfectly had finally snapped. Your legs were trembling, back arched, and head thrown back. Kiba couldn’t help but admire your expression as you came all over his face and fingers. He slowed his movements and finally pulled his face away, sitting on his knees while still finger fucking you slowly.

You look up at him, his lips and chin soaked with your juices. You can’t help but look down at his hand inside you, watching the muscles in his arms flex as fucks you, before looking back up at his face. He leans over and kisses you softly.

“You see something you like, sweetheart? You’re clenching around me again,” he says with a satisfied grin.

“You just look so good with my cum dripping down your chin,” you say out of breath.

“Oh yeah? For a second there, I could have sworn you were looking at something else” Kiba mumbles, kissing your neck softly and curling his fingers again.

You moan at the feeling, “Please Kiba, I need you inside me.” You wrap your hand around his length and rub through his jeans.

“Fuck, baby, you gonna let me use this cute pussy of yours?” he asks. You nod eagerly, sitting up with him and pulling at his shirt.

“Take this off. I wanna feel your skin on mine,” you mumble quickly.

Kiba laughs back, “Yeah? Or do you wanna just see my muscles? You’ve been eyein’ them this whole time.”

“Maybe a little bit of both,” you smile and lean in, pecking his lips. He pulls his shirt over his head quickly and you run your hand down his chest, towards his length, admiring his toned torso and smooth skin. You unbuckle his belt to the best of your ability and he lifts his hips, allowing you to pull his length out. You’re speechless.

“I-I don’t know if it's gonna fit,” you say, without thinking.

He laughs, “Don’t worry baby, I’m gonna take care of you. And if it's too much,” he starts, grabbing your chin between his thumb and pointer finger, “you tell me right away, okay? I don’t care what the issue is, if it hurts, if you’re tired. There doesn’t even have to be a reason. You wanna stop? Just say the words, no questions asked, and I will take care of you.”

He slides his hand to your cheek, caressing it with his thumb. You nod your head, but he won’t take that for an answer this time. “I need your words, my love. Tell me you understand.”

“I promise to tell you if I need you to stop,” you say confidently.

“Good girl,” Kiba says. “Come sit on my lap, princess.”

You swing your leg over his, sitting directly over his tip. He slides his hands up your back, kissing your chest softly. Your hand reaches down and lines his length up with your entrance. You wrap your arms around Kiba’s neck and his hands settle at your waist. You begin to sink down on his length, the stretch painful, but good at the same time.

“That’s it, love. Slow, just like that. Doing so good for me, so tight,” he mumbles into your ear. Your head is down, struggling to maintain any bit of composure, and his grip tightens on your waist. Kiba hisses through his teeth when you fully sink down on him, your walls already fluttering around him. You swear you've never had anything this deep inside of you before.

“You okay, babygirl,” he asks, searching your eyes for any lies. You can see the love he holds for you.

“Y-yes… just so, s-so full,” you respond.

Kiba pulls you in for a kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth instantly. He pulls your hips back up before pushing you back down on his length, trying to find a steady pace. You melt under his touch and lean your head on his shoulder. Your moans sound directly in his ear and he can’t help but graze his teeth on your shoulder. When you whine, he sinks his teeth in softly. Not enough to pierce your skin, but enough to leave a mark. When he lifts your body again, he keeps it there.

“Come here, sweetheart,” he says, pulling you against his chest. Your arms fold in, hands left on his shoulders and your head remains next to his. Cheek against cheek. “I got you baby, so good,” he whispers, one arm around your waist, his hand squeezing your side. His other arm is pulled diagonally across your back, with his hand gripping your shoulder. He begins to thrust up into you, hugging you against his chest.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this. To have you falling apart like this because of me,” he starts. Kiba pushes his head down and starts kissing along your collarbone. “When I saw you and Shikamaru today, I got so jealous, the way you touched him, the way you let him touch you. God, I’m angry just thinking about him touching you. Anyone touching you. I can’t let anyone else touch you after that.”

He’s full on grunting now, slamming into you at an ungodly pace. Your legs are shaking and your moans are spilling out, unable to control them anymore. The hand he has on your shoulder runs up the back of your neck and grabs a fist full of hair, pulling your head back. He nibbles on your neck and you can feel him grinning against you.

“You are mine,” he growls out, accentuating each word with a particularly hard thrust. You clench around him. You can’t help but topple over the edge again, your juices dripping down your thighs as you moan out his name.

“Oh you like that? Being told who you belong to? Look at you, baby. Always acting so innocent in public, but here you are, cumming all over my cock in the backseat of my car. You sound so fucking pretty, baby, taking me so well,” He continues. “Go ahead, tell me who you belong to.”

Your head is dizzy, trying to grasp on to anything as he fucks you stupid. The words coming out of his mouth have you shocked. The humiliation and praise all at once has you sinking your nails into his shoulder. “Y-you,” you try to start but only end up stuttering. “I belong to you, Kiba,” you gasp out.

“Good girl,” he kisses your cheek. Kiba can feel himself getting lost in you, and tries to hold back the urge to finish already. He wants to finish with you.

“I’m close, love,” he whispers. “Think you can finish with me?”

“Yes! Yes I can, please, feels so good inside,” you babble out.

He pushes you back, your back hitting the back of the driver's seat, and you hold yourself up with your thighs. Kiba wraps his hand around your throat again, squeezing slightly. You reach a hand down to play with yourself, but Kiba grabs your hand and puts it on his chest. You whine in response, knowing you wouldn't be able to form a full sentence anyway.

“It's okay, sweetheart, let me do it for you. You know I take care of you, don’t you?” Kiba asks, though he doesn’t expect an answer. Not with how blissed out you look. He rubs steady circles on your clit, his abdomen burning from holding back. Your legs are shaking and he can’t help but smile at you, the only words leaving your mouth being “Oh fuck” and “please.”

“Awww, you cockdrunk that easy?” He grabs your jaw and forces you to look at him. “Your pussy feels so good clenching around me, like you were made for me. You were made for me, weren’t you, baby? Fuck,” Kiba says. He’s never talked so much during sex, but it's so easy with you. And you obviously love the sound of his voice, judging by the way you flutter around him every time he speaks.

You know you can’t last much longer, the overstimulation from your previous orgasms having an affect on you. Your thighs are burning from holding yourself up. “Ki-Kiba I-” you try to start.

“I know baby, me too. Look at me, I want you to look at me while you cum on my cock,” he says, turning your head to face him. “That’s it, so pretty, doing so good for me. Taking me so well.”

You begin to shake, looking Kiba in his dark eyes, as your orgasm washes over you. He’s falling over the edge almost instantly, your pussy milking him for all he has, filling you until the sticky, white substance begins to slip out.. He pulls you into his chest and you relax against him, steady your breathing as he rubs small circles on your back.

“Such a good girl,” he says, kissing your forehead. You look up at him, puckering your lips for another kiss. He laughs lightly, kissing your lips, and pushes your hair out of your face. His hairs are sticking to his forehead with sweat. You can feel the slick covering your bodies, but don’t want to move.

“You want to be my girl, now?” Kiba asks.

“You idiot, I’ve always wanted to be your girl. I’ve always wanted you to be my boy.”

Kiba leans over and grabs that same green sweater, pulling it over your head and guiding your arms through the sleeves.

“Why don’t we go back to my place? I’ll help you take a shower… maybe cuddle and spend the night?” Kiba asks, hopeful.

“Yes, I’d love to,” you giggle.

He helps you put your panties back on and gets himself dressed. Getting out of the car, he picks you up from the back seat and brings you back to the passenger side, buckling you in and kissing your forehead. When he gets back to the driver side, you cuddle up to his arm and stay there the whole ride home.

Pretty sure I fixed any typos, but apologies if there are any. Also apologies for slacking recently on writing, just a full time college student thats burnt out haha :). Of course, will be doing my best to get some stuff out.

#naruto #kiba inuzuka #kiba x y/n #kiba naruto #kiba x reader #kiba fluff #kiba smut #naruto smut #sakura #shikamara nara #shikamaru #jealousy #jealous kiba #kiba inuzuka smut #kiba inuzuka fluff #kiba fanfic #naruto fanfiction #kiba imagine #kiba x you

[saigethearies]

his girl best friend

kiba x fem!reader

18+ MINORS DNI

contents/warnings: reader is a lil possessive, vaginal sex, daddy kink, voyuerism(?), dash of degradation, sorry hinata stans lol she’s a lil problematic in this, allusions to unfaithfulness (not with reader’s relationship)

you were not a huge fan of hinata hyuga.

when kiba had first introduced the two of you, you had thought she seemed like a shy sweetheart. she was friendly enough and a little less intimidating to talk to than kiba’s other longtime friend, shino aburame.

the fact the guy you were seeing had a close friendship with another girl didn’t bother you, either. you weren’t an insecure person, and kiba didn’t give you any reason to start feeling that way, either. besides, hinata was finally going on dates with the man she’d had a crush on for years, naruto uzumaki.

there was no reason to dislike her.

until there was.

it started when you and kiba made it official. you had watched him type something on his phone after the two of you got back from your date.

“whatcha doing?” you had asked him, sitting down on the couch next to him.

he gave you one of his signature grins. “just telling shino and hinata the good news.”

butterflies flittered around your stomach at the fact your new boyfriend was so proud to have you that he wanted to tell his friends immediately.

he leaned in to give you a quick peck on your lips. “i’m gonna go take akamaru out real quick. you stay in here though, it’s dark out.”

“okay,” you replied. “don’t be too long!”

he left the room, and you glanced to see that he’d left his phone. message notifications displayed on the screen, and you leaned in to take a closer peek.

shino: congratulations, kiba. she seems very good for you.

that made you smile. but the text you saw next didn’t.

hinata: don’t you think it’s a little soon for the two of you to become official?

too soon? you’d known kiba since last year, and the two of you had been romantically linked for a solid month now. your relationship didn’t feel rushed at all, and who was she to judge? not everyone has to lurk on their crush for years before finally talking to them.

you chalked it up to her being jealous that her and naruto didn’t have a label yet while you and kiba did. still, her making negative remarks about your relationship that was only about two hours old left a bitter taste in your mouth.

everything seemed to go downhill from there.

she would practically ignore you whenever kiba brought you to a function. when you mentioned it to him, he said that she was just being shy as per usual. you would have taken his word for it, if it weren’t for the fact she was able to talk to you just fine before you became kiba’s girlfriend.

then there was the fact that when she wasn’t ignoring you, she was trying to best you in kiba 101.

“babe, i found out today one of my friends has an uncle who works at a jeep dealership,” you said to kiba at the kickback he had brought you to.

your boyfriend’s eyes sparkled. “no way.”

“what’s so special about that?” you heard hinata ask from across the table.

“because a wrangler is kiba’s dream car,” you replied.

hinata blinked. “no. his dream car is a camaro.”

you fought the urge to frown at her. was she seriously doing this right now? “it was a camaro, until he decided he wanted something that can off road.”

“she’s right,” kiba chimed in with a smile on his face, kissing the side of your head. “great memory, baby.”

you turned to meet his gaze and smiled back at him, the reflection in the window behind kiba giving you the perfect view of the eyeroll hinata gave your exchange.

your annoyance was finally coming to a crescendo when you started to catch her actually ogling your boyfriend.

she would practically be making fuck me eyes at kiba while standing right next to naruto, the guy who she’s supposed to be flirting with. you would feel bad for the blonde if it weren’t for the fact that he was too busy making fuck me eyes at sasuke uchiha to notice his date making fuck me eyes at her best friend.

you’d had enough.

hinata was supposed to be focusing on starting her own relationship. she’d also had plenty of opportunity to explore a possible romance with kiba, considering she’d known him for years before you even came into his life. it’s not like kiba would have rejected her, either. even though he’d never really had feelings for hinata like that (a fact shino had assured you of) she was still a pretty girl that he was close to. he probably would have been open to the idea. 

but no.

hinata decided that her friend getting into a happy relationship with another girl was the perfect time to start wanting him.

it wasn’t fair.

the worst part of all is that you didn’t want to tell kiba, who was oblivious to all of this. not because you were afraid that he wouldn’t believe you, but because you knew that he’d want to do something about it. his friends were important to him, but he wasn’t going to let anyone disrespect the boundaries of his relationship. it would impact his and hinata’s friendship in a very negative way, and you knew it would upset him.

thus, you figured you could try and resolve the problem on your own.

you were going to remind hinata hyuga of her place, and it sure as hell wasn’t in your boyfriend’s bed.

your plan fell into place on one of the trio’s game nights. kiba had hinata and shino come over every so often to play some classic board games, which was actually pretty wholesome when you ignore the whole part about hinata being after your boyfriend’s dick.

the girl in question usually got there about thirty minutes earlier than shino, probably so she could have a little window of time just her and kiba. this ended up working out for you, though.

because poor shino did not need to see what was about to happen.

all it took was an extra short pair of shorts, a bullshit excuse of you came over to find your sunglasses, and your boyfriend’s ever raging libido for your plan to kickstart.

“please, kiba, just really quick? we’ll be done before either of your friends even get here.”

he could never say no to you, not when you were being so cute and needy for him.

thus, that’s how hinata hyuga came to find you bouncing on kiba’s cock in the middle of his living room.

she stayed hidden around the corner leading to the hall, eyes blown open in shock as she watched your hips continue to slam down onto her best friend’s lap.

“fuck,” you moaned. “daddy, you feel so good.”

the brunette was canting his hips up to meet yours. “such a good little slut for me. you couldn’t wait until after my friends left, huh? wanted your daddy that bad.”

“yes!” you replied. “want you so bad.”

“it’s okay, princess, you have me.”

you hummed and leaned in for a sloppy kiss, kiba grabbing the back of your neck so he could deepen it. the sound of skin slapping against skin got louder as both of you increased the vigor in which you fucked one another.

you pulled away, a string of saliva connecting your mouth to his. you could still feel hinata’s eyes on the two of you, so it was time to go in for the kill.

“daddy,” you cooed at kiba. “tell me i’m yours.”

“you’re mine, baby. my pretty girl.”

you smiled. “m’your pretty girl?”

“mhm, my pretty girl and my favorite girl.”

you leaned into his neck so he couldn’t see the wicked smirk stretch across your face. you finally turned your head to the side, making direct eye contact with a still lingering hinata.

“i love you, daddy.”

“i love you too, princess. my one and only.”

at that you saw hinata turn on her heel and practically storm out of the house.

looks like she got the message.

#kiba inuzuka #kiba x reader #kiba smut #kiba inuzuka smut #kiba x you #naruto smut

[honeykngdom]

‎‧₊˚✧ naruto | masterlist ✧˚₊‧

‎‧₊˚✧ completed ✧˚₊‧

the caretaker : ̗̀➛ pairing: iruka umino x fem!reader : ̗̀➛ synopsis: It's a particularly rainy that Sunday morning. You have places to be, and the rain certainly wasn't going to stop you - a pothole in the road might, however. How embarrassing, now you're late and wet. Oh, God, please tell me you didn't see that? : ̗̀➛ content warnings: set early in shippuden. fluff & comfort. reader sustains a minor ankle injury. mentions of otc painkillers. minor suggestive themes. : ̗̀➛ read here

sentimental values : ̗̀➛ pairing: iruka umino x fem!reader : ̗̀➛ synopsis: Iruka hasn’t been able to stop thinking about the young Sarutobi woman he spent Halloween with; he’s completely enamoured with you. How had he never noticed you like this before? Here’s the catch: Konohamaru doesn’t appear too happy with the budding relationship between you and the Academy instructor - a continuation of the caretaker. : ̗̀➛ content warnings: set in early shippuden. fluff. mentions of prior injury. suggestive themes. : ̗̀➛ read here

triad effect : ̗̀➛ pairing: yamato tenzo x fem!reader & kakashi hatake : ̗̀➛ synopsis: Excuse me boyfriend’s best friend, I need you to come underwear shopping and tell me which set he’d find hottest as a gift. Oh, can you also explain what the hell this contraption you’ve put me in is? Wait, what are you doing in here … stop, we shouldn’t do this … alright. Maybe just this once. : ̗̀➛ content warnings: modern au. valentines series. 18+ only. explicit sexual themes. threesome. cheating (never fear, it works out for reader in the end), cunnalingus, public orgasm, voyuerism, consensual recording, multiple creampies, sexting, dry humping. : ̗̀➛ part one : ̗̀➛ part two : ̗̀➛ part three

current naruto works in progress can be found under the cut!

‧₊˚✧ in progress ✧˚₊‧

kill of the night. : ̗̀➛ pairing: kiba inuzuka x fem!reader : ̗̀➛ content warnings: 18+ only. dark and explicit sexual themes. a/b/o au. mentions of blood. fingering. oral sex (f receiving). unprotected vaginal penetration. marking/scenting. mating press. breeding. creampie. where kiba fights his natural instincts to devour you & breeds you instead.

lean on me. : ̗̀➛ pairing: iruka umino x fem!reader : ̗̀➛ content warnings: 18+ only. explicit sexual themes. mentions of canon character death. angst & comfort. dealing with grief & mourning. - fourth instalment of the caretaker.

just working on my fitness. : ̗̀➛ pairing: fem!reader x might gai / rock lee / shikamaru nara / kiba inuzuka : ̗̀➛ content warnings: suggestive themes. modern au. headcanon series regarding the type of gym-bro the characters are & how they would react to a muscle mommy in the gym.

#naruto fanfiction #naruto masterlist #kakashi hatake #iruka umino #kiba inuzuka #shikamaru nara #might gai #rock lee #naruto #kakashi x reader #iruka x reader #kiba x reader #shikamaru x reader #rock lee x reader #might guy x reader #kakashi hatake smut #iruka umino smut #kiba inuzuka smut #masterlist

[cohldhands]

𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 | 𝘬𝘪𝘣𝘢 𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘻𝘶𝘬𝘢

pairing: bff!kiba x afab!reader word count: 7.9k warnings: nsfw! 18+! minors DNI! | just two best friends helpin' each other out, virgin!reader wants experience and kiba has it, pussydrunk!kiba, praise kink, oral (f! and m!recieving), primal play (kinda? like a sprinkle?), unprotected sex (wrap it up guys), he's down for you and its bad, other characters mentioned, all characters in their early/mid 20s, not thoroughly proofread, no use of y/n author's note: this is 100% based on some thirsting that @tired-biscuit and i did for this man and... well, here we are. i listened to "nayhoo" by chon while writing the first bit of this. i also didn't anticipate it to be this long... 😅 it's my first time in a long ass time writing second-person as well, so just be gentle. there will absolutely be (at least) a part two where shit devolves at ino's new apt. i hope yall enjoy!

you can also read this on AO3 here.

KIBA’s fingers twitch as he watches you place a piece of strawberry into your mouth, your lips encasing your delicate fingertips in a way he knows should be innocent, should be just friends having lunch together, but it’s not. It hasn’t been for a long time. 

Dappled sunlight filters in through the full, vibrant trees towering above you, and the incessant hum of cicadas fills the air, mixing with the cadence of rustling leaves in the summer breeze. Loose, thin clothes, skin glazed in a thin layer of humidity and sweat, clammy hands from thrumming heartbeats.

Summer has always been a favorite time for the both of you, ever since the summer you moved to Konoha during your childhood. The summer that changed everything. Sticky sweetness, endless days, sunburnt cheeks. Ever since, you and Kiba have been attached at the hip, having lived in the house just down the street and your mothers working together. Hours of fetch with Akamaru, rock skipping competitions with Shino as referee, hushed conversations with Hinata about Naruto. He accepted you with open arms; they all did. 

“Just another one of the pack.”

Kiba hated when you and Hinata would sneak off, however. He’d bribe Shino—or attempt to—just to spy and listen. When Shino would call him out on his reddened ears, his anticipation in finding out the girl talk, his picking at his nails until you would return, he’d tug his hoodie up and change the subject.

“You like her.” Shino would tell him, plainly, a fact of life. 

“No!” the brunette would huff. “She’s just a friend.”

Kiba takes a swig from his canteen, a drip of water fumbling from his lip to his chin when he pulls it away. He blinks away the memories of summers, of lifetimes spent under the same blazing sun. Sunburnt chests, laying on Akamaru with bare arms pressed to each other while looking for aliens, small, small clothes.

“That’s what friends are for, Kiba!” You say through the small bite. 

“It’s going to be so hot though,” he whines, throwing his head back with his forehead scrunched in irritation. “Who the fuck moves in the middle of July? You know who? Crazy people, that’s who.”

“Whether you like it or not, Ino is moving,” you shake your head at him, a hint of playful irritation on your drawl as you watch his head tilt back, the expanse of his neck exposed. A dare, a first kiss, a summer night. “And we both agreed to help her. Besides, it’ll go by quick with all of us helping. You’ll be okay. ”

“So annoying.” He croaks, but then he lets his head fall forward. His intense, dark eyes settle on yours once more, and he fights the urge to drink you in the way he does when you’re not looking. When you’re fidgeting while you’re trying to beat him at Mario Kart, when your face is scrunched in concentration when you’re aiming a kunai. 

He sends a sideways glance at Akamaru—a lifeline, a phone-a-friend— and the white-haired dog lets out the equivalent of a mumble and a shrug. 

Kiba throws his hands in the air, exhaling a “Fine! Fine.”

“You’re such a baby.” You laugh, a teasing yet light sound.

A sound that causes a flutter to rampage through his chest, and a restrained tug of a smile spreads across his features in response. But he’s practiced this, practiced suppressing the itch in his hands to reach out, to kiss you, to breathe in that laugh as if it was the air itself he needs.

He already does that with your scent alone.

“Whatever.” He grabs a clump of rice in his chopsticks and eats it. 

You can tell there’s a hint of something underneath the surface with Kiba, something that’s hard to pinpoint. Of course, during your girl talks with Hinata, you’d open your heart to her. About how Kiba didn’t scare you, despite his animalistic side, how he just wanted attention, that’s why he acts that way, about how much you had to refrain from squirming when he looked at you as you both got older.

She’d gasp when you would talk that way, but she’d always add her own tidbit of girlish tension in a hushed voice.

“So, uh… w-while we’re talking about favors…” you start, your eyes falling to the bento box in your lap. 

“If you’re moving, too, the whole ride-or-die thing goes out of the window.”

“No, fuck no!” Another light laugh, another shake of your head, but this time more at yourself than anything. If only it was just moving...

You’ve been mulling on asking him about this for weeks now. You’d recently met a boy, because you, too, have practiced the art of burying the want to grab him, to feel the ripple of muscles that dance underneath the fishnet material of his shirt, to tangle your fingers in his hair and find out if he likes his hair tugged the way you do, if he doesn’t, moving yourself against him until his desires tumble out of him on their own. 

But you’ve met a boy, Jun, who is sweet. Kind. A responsible, gentle Ninja. You’re in no way committed, no title. Your mother adores him, your father respects him. He’s yet to make you uncomfortable, opens doors for you, brings you flowers every time he sees you. You’ve gone on a few dates with him, and you like him—enough to want more than the heavy petting and stale kisses. But then there is a small part of you, small yet persistent enough—

“The way a man feels about you is crystal clear when you bed ‘im,” Ino had told you once during a ‘girl’s night’ at Sakura’s. 

“What do you mean?” 

“If he truly wants you,” the blonde continued, jabbing her finger in your direction. “He can’t fake that while buried inside.”

“I’m convinced love has its own chakra,” Sakura had added. “It moves between you and the other person. Like a bolt of lightning.”

“Or a burning fire.”

The small part of you that craves to see if he’d do it, and if you’d be able to tell which natural disaster would rage between you—if one at all. 

“What’s with the serious-ass face? You’re scaring me…” Kiba continues, his voice pulling you back to the here and now. He leans forward to catch your eyes again, then continues in a whisper. “Do we need to hide a body?”

“Kiba—”

“Oh, wait, it is serious.” He clears his throat and sits up, a different demeanor taking him over. His gaze fixates on you, his position stiffening as he studies you in a fraction of a moment. “‘Kay, sorry. What’s up?”

“It’s about Jun.”

His muscles tighten, and he places his bento box on the blanket you’re both sitting on. The guy who takes you on dates, the guy he can tell you’re not head over heel for. Jun, who fills the time, because Kiba can tell sweet Jun bores you. At least, that’s what Kiba tells himself. “Okay.”

“Uh… I don’t really know how to ask this, so I’m just going to.” You shift in your seat, mustering the gumption to speak clearly, forward, just ask your best friend for a favor. A dare, the childhood magic in special first kisses, adult magic in special first times. Not wanting to look like a dunce to the boy your mother adores, your father respects.

“I want to sleep with Jun, but I’ve never… ya know. And you have, so—”

Ba-dum. A heavy heartbeat, thick in his ears, piercing his palms.

His eyes widen, dark and yet darker, darker still. Heat floods his cheeks, bubbling under his skin and filling his abdomen. The swelling of a storm.

Ba-dum.

“I know it’s weird, a-and you can absolutely say no. You’re my best friend, though, and it’s not like I can just ask anyone. This isn’t like a new development either, I wanted to wait to ask you—n-not that I’ve just been, ya know, thinking about this and you. I just have zero experience, you know that, but I want to be a bit more confident in—”

Ba-dum.

“Do you like him?” Kiba’s voice falls flat, more flat than he anticipates, but the words hang there. Screaming cicadas, colliding tree branches. “Really, truly like him?”

Ba-dum.

“Yeah.” You nod. You’re convincing yourself and lying to him all at the same time. But maybe, just maybe trusting Kiba with this moment, with your first time, with breaking the barrier between fantasy and reality—maybe it won’t be so bad. “I do.”

“Then I’ll do it.” He swallows the solid lump in his throat, convincing himself and lying to you all at the same time. “Besides, that’s what friends are for.”

—

Kiba told you he’d come over later that evening, to do whatever it is that made you most comfortable. Shower, don’t shower. Shave, don’t shave. Wear whatever it is you wanted, to pretend like he was just coming over like he always did, to hang out like you always did.

You couldn’t sit still the moment you got home. You cleaned and showered. Tried to read, tried to scroll through your phone, tried to do any- and everything you could to not get caught up in the motions of it all, fought yourself for ten minutes on if you should even light a candle or not because it’s not like that but damn it—

Yes it is.

But this wouldn’t mean anything, right? Regardless of a candle lit, which made the whole space smell of honeysuckle and lemon, it’s just your best friend, doing you a favor: teaching you how to work a cock by using his. 

Oh, god, his cock. What would it look like? Feel like? Would it curve, or would it be veiny? The thought alone causes you to fidget in your seat on the couch, your eyes darting between the clock on your phone and the front door to your apartment. You feel your heartbeat in your ears and in your core, pulsing. Arousal pools in your underwear at the mere thought of him—how did you expect to function?—and you pinch your thighs together.

You still couldn’t believe he had agreed. And Kiba couldn’t either, even as he meandered his way to your door, his eyes steadfast in the direction of your apartment building. What made either of you think this was a good idea? Was his practice paying off? Did he want it to? He had finally, finally been offered the invitation, the “come over” call that he dreamed of. He had hoped, however, that the circumstances would be different, that it would be for him.

Two heavy knocks on the door alert you to his presence, though somehow you’re sure you catch the scent of his body wash before his knuckles meet the wood. You pull the door open. Musk, earth, hazelnut, bergamot. Messy kitchens, ugly, delicious cookies, using his shower and wearing his clothes. 

He’s bathed as well, his hair still slightly damp as it hangs above his shoulders. A wide grin flashes over his face, his eyes disappearing into the image, his teeth catching the overhead light. Your face fills with a weighty heat, and your abdomen flutters at the sight of his broad shoulders and his toned arms under the fabric of his shirt. 

He’s opted for his usual lounge attire: a t-shirt, joggers, and sneakers. In his hands are takeout—he’s always eating—and drinks for you to share. You felt underdressed somehow in your own home, donning a thin-fabriced, comfortable yet cute t-shirt and shorts combination—something you’d worn around him countless times. Yet, he’d shown up like this countless times, food and a smile in tow, and he somehow seems more prepared than you’d ever seen him. The way he’s standing tall, his chest open to you… had he prepared?

Despite the vanilla-scented body-wash and the floral candle, the moment the door opens, revealing you in your post-shower, pre-coitus flush, he takes in the intoxicating scent of your arousal, of your skin, of you, and he presses his intent further into his smile. Not here, not now, not just past the threshold.

“Brought food. I doubt you ate.” 

This motherfu—

“Thanks. I… actually haven’t eaten, now that I think about it.”

The tension is palpable. He’s trying a little too hard not to look at you, to not brush by you and linger. Though, he doesn’t understand why. You’d asked him to come over and help you, to quell the curiosity of experience, to be good for Jun. 

The swelling of a violent storm.

You step aside and allow him in, and he does what he always does: makes himself at home, rummages through your cabinets for plates, a fork, two cups. You watch his hands maneuver whatever he’s holding, the muscles in his forearms. He keeps his nose buried in the food, trying to find something, anything to focus on other than you, in all of your totality. 

Kiba jokes with you, carries on conversation while he divides out the food, move to the couch, sit just far enough to not touch, yet close enough to still feel each other’s body warmth. He’s talking and talking, rambling about the day you had already heard about, about a new bug Shino had shown him, about the hot springs he wants to go to in the town over. Maybe, just maybe, he’s nervous, too. 

He jokes with you, as if he’s not already imagining your velvety throat wrapped around his aching girth, your face contorted in pleasure as he laps his tongue over your sensitive clit, his name tumbling out of your mouth, hitched and squeaked: “Kiba, Kiba—!”

“Ki-ba~!” You wave a hand over his glazed-over eyes as you call his name, sing-song and light, an attempt to bring him back from wherever he disappeared to as he’s stuck, freeze-frame, a cup halfway lifted to his mouth. You lean against the back of the couch toward him, only slightly, with an eyebrow cocked and a grin peeling back the corners of our mouth. “Where did you go, bud?”

There’s a split second, less than a blink of an eye where his hand is holding his drink; the next, it’s wrapped around your wrist, the cup on the table. How did he…?

His grip is tight, steadying, but then it eases by a fraction, and he finds himself studying the palm of your hand, imagining it wrapped around his throbbing, swollen girth, before his eyes flick up to yours, his jaw clenched, tight, teeth grinding as the wheels he’d frozen over long ago begin to turn, churning, yearning— 

“Why did you ask me to do this?” His voice is low, hoarse, carried by a held breath, a tight chest. 

There’s an underlying shift happening, and you can feel it in the soles of your feet, the palms of your hands. He somehow seems larger, taller, more devious. A full moon, an autumn night, finding out the ride the full moon sent him on before he disappears, unable to show you the animal that wanted to come out and ravage you, the side of Kiba he saves for the girls he will never see again because he can’t ruin you, you’re his best friend, his confidant.

Ba-dum.

He’s close, so close to you that you can see the pulse of his heartbeat in his neck. So close that the burning heat radiating off of him causes your own skin to surge, your heart to lurch, the damned fluttering in your abdomen. His eyes are zeroed in on you, black irises inflamed with dilated pupils. Hungry, restrained. Electricity ignites within your veins under his touch. He’s touched you, many times. A hug, a helping hand, a comforting shoulder. Why does this feel different?

“Because I trust you.”

Ba-dum.

His heart swells, clawing at his ribcage, screaming to be set free. You trust him. With your secrets, with your life, with your body. His gaze flicks on your lips, only for a moment, before his devilish eyes find yours once more. 

Ba-dum.

“Have you ever even touched a cock before?” He murmurs, his tone taking on something silken and starved. He pivots his body to turn, his eyebrow cocked, a whisper of a coy smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, and he closes the space between you, the space that’s always between you. 

You blink as a prickling heat travels up your spine, his question as well as his shift in energy catching you off-guard. Kiba’s never spoken to you, let alone around you this way, even when joking. Though he told you whenever he brought a girl home, or made out with another, you’re sure the gruesome details of his sexual escapades were dumped on Shino, or maybe even Naruto, if anyone. But you’re familiar with the wild look in Kiba’s eyes, the way he’s looking at you: a predator searching for his prey. The other side of Kiba.

“You’d know if I—” You start, but your words catch in your throat as you attempt to let them spill all over your kitchen counter. Even if it had happened, would you tell him? Would it have been in confidence, to share a story time, or would it have been to get even a chance to see a flicker of jealousy, of rage, of something? “No, I haven’t. N-not, ya know… skin to skin, anyway.”

The sting of embarrassment bubbles in our throat, your voice smaller than you wanted it, and whispers nothing good into your ears, but you maintain your eye contact. You made the first pitch, and now it’s game time. 

“And you’re sure you want me to be the first?” He asks before he brings your palm to lips and presses a wet yet tender kiss to it. The notion surprises him, that he allowed himself more than anything, but he knows what it’s doing to you—he can smell it. “I do also have your first kiss, so I’d be two-for-two, bud.” 

The feeling of his mouth on you sends coursing fire to your cunt, and you can almost, almost feel his lips against your now-soaked folds. And he’s patronizing you, a playful lilt clinging to the nickname, but you don’t hate it. It’s Kiba, in totality. Him making sure, despite his coy grin and thirsty eyes, only makes you want him more.

“I don’t know if that really counts…” You mutter. It does count, and it’s always counted, but he doesn’t need to know that. A stupid game of truth or dare one adolescent summer, the summer you knew you’d never rid your thoughts of Kiba. A summer initiating the biggest game of make-believe.

“How rude.” He smiles against your hand, and his hot breath and pointed canines brush against your palm. He shrugs, his grip falling from your arm, and then he exhales a dramatic sigh. “I guess I’ll have to make up for it, then. Can’t have meaningless kisses out there.”

Ba-dum.

Lighting cracks inside of you as his large hands splay across your hips and pull you into his lap. Your hands scramble, only for a moment, before one lands on the back of the couch, and the other finds purchase on his shoulder.

The battle within him is raging, a savage and destructive thing. He wants to take you, now, now, but he can’t, he won’t. You’re not the girls he’s given meaningless kisses to. You’re his best friend, and he’s waited this long. 

He can wait just a little bit longer.

Ba-dum.

Draping your thighs around his hips, he looks up at you with earnest eyes, a moment of hesitation between you two as he waits for a no, a wait, a maybe we shouldn’t. The pulsing heat of his cock strains against his joggers, pressed firmly against your core as he holds you against him. Though muffled by the thick denim, you feel the aching throb beneath you, the pulsing twitch, the size. 

Ba-dum.

When the blockade doesn’t come, and you meet his gaze with an equally intrigued look, his grip on your shirt tightens. He cranes his neck up, and he whispers against your lips, “I have a rule.”

Your heart stutters at the husk in his voice, the low demand for attention. “Okay…”

“If you have questions, ask. And—eh, I guess two rules.” Kiba murmurs against your lips, his face flushed in the dim lighting. “If you want something, tell me.”

Your ears burn, the flush causing your skin to prickle. Your hair hangs at the side of your face, closing you and Kiba into a world of your own, the world you both have always played in. Just the two of you. 

“Okay.” You nod, your body ignited in a burning flame. “I will.”

Kiba’s lips collide with yours, rough and excited, then soften, pull back, relax, as his hands tangle the fabric of your shirt in their grasp, and his hips tilt up into yours. A slight movement, one he barely notices himself, but the weight of you on him alone sends a shiver through his body. Another subconscious jerk of his pelvis, reacting to the warmth, the weight, you you you. 

The air in your lungs vanishes as his lips bring a reprieve, a cold drink on a hot summer day, lifting the lid before it all boils over, and your grip on his shoulder tightens. Head spinning, a drunken buzz just from his kiss. There’s a small moment that wonders if this is actually a fantasy, something you’ve conjured up in your head, a fever dream. 

Your own hips move as you run your tongue along his bottom lip, adding intent as you roll against him, slow, methodical, feeling his entirety through the mere layers of fabric separating the two of you. Always something in the way.

A heavy breath against your lips, he opens his mouth and allows the dance to commence, a slow dance that soon turns into a tango, fervent, impassioned, both of your bodies submitting to what they’ve desired. He tastes of takeout and impulse decisions, sunburnt cheeks, swollen lips, a stupid crush that isn’t a crush but a fact of life. Your hold on the couch releases, and your fingers tangle in his head of dark, thick hair. A grounding grip, a slight tautness against the nape of his neck. 

“Fuck…” He huffs before he nips at your bottom lip, his fingers dip underneath your shirt, grazing the flesh of your hips. He takes handfuls of your hips and brings you down against him further, closer, closing more of the space, more of that damned thing always in the fucking way. His lips trail from yours to your neck, the space below your ear, and he runs a flattened tongue along your skin, tasting it, breathing you in before sloppy kisses decorate your neck.

Your eyes fall hooded, and a light pant tumbles out of you at the contact. He sucks at a particular spot, bringing blood to the surface, his canines barred against your flesh.

“Kiba!” You gasp, the hint of a nervousness in your tone, and you detach yourself, only slightly, slightly. “You can’t leave any marks.”

“Sorry, sorry!” He chuckles, and then it hits him, crashes into him that you’re there, he’s here, and he’s supposed to be teaching you and yet, yet, he’s caught in the tidal wave of learning you. His cheeks and ears tinge with a beet red glaze, and he swallows thickly as he stares up at you. “I’ll try to remember.”

“But I want you to.” is what you want to say, but you don’t. 

“It’s okay,” you reassure with another light laugh. “I’ll be sure to remind you.”

“I’m happy you did. Don’t ever feel like you can’t speak up with someone, especially if you’re, ya know… If a guy doesn’t listen to you, he—wait, what are you—” 

He had started to ramble, stumbling in the moment of stillness. You, however, found the moment to be just when the courage hit to reach a delicate hand down and trace the edge of his joggers. 

“I want to see it.” Your eyes flick to his lap, to the strained outline of his still throbbing, stiff cock before finding his gaze again. 

Stunned, he stares up at you with wide eyes. Your words echo in his head, over and over, his ears ringing at the sound of your inquiry. When the blockade, the no, the maybe we shouldn't, doesn't come, you peel yourself away from him and lower yourself between his spread knees. 

The swelling storm brews inside of him, the savage and violent force of nature. Wait, wait, relax. 

“Thank you for telling me.” His eyes don’t leave you as you swallow another weighty lump in your throat, and you pull at the combined bands of his joggers and underwear. He lifts himself up, just enough to help slide the two layers of fabric off of him, watching your reaction.

When his erect member springs up at the sudden relief and twitches, your eyes widen. It’s nothing like the ones you had seen on a screen, but it's like the ones people write about. Thick is an understatement, and two prominent veins run along his length. A pink head, the color of his lips, donned with a dribble of clear slick and wrapped in taut skin. The image of his aching cock sends heat pooling at your core, and you shift in your spot—though it only makes things worse, and your heartbeat thrums in your clit.

He sucks in a breath at your innocent gape, the sight causing his mind to go to dark places where you’re screaming his name, head buried against the mattress, it’s too deep, I’m gonna break, his hand tangled in your mess of hair.

You glance up at him in his flustered state, before you turn your eyes downward and wrap a unsure but willing hand around the base. His hips jerk into your touch, and one of his hands finds purchase on the couch cushion, his knuckles whitening as he keeps himself grounded by his grip. His mind is reeling, a flipbook of the thousand positions he’d kill to see you in, put you in.

“Shit…” He spits through clenched teeth. 

“Did I—” You freeze.

“N-no, you’re fine, you can—” He starts, but your slow, fisted movement up and then down his shaft cuts him off. “Yeah, like that…”

“That’s okay?” You ask as you slowly pump your hand around him, your eyes flicking between his length in your hand and his eyes on you. 

“Y-Yeah.” Kiba nods, saliva pooling in his mouth as he watches you, dinner and dessert in front of him on a silver platter. He clears his throat, the anticipation making him fidgety. The longer he had to wait, the more the pulsing desperation in his length called to him, begging him for release. 

He has to wait a little bit longer. 

You nod, and then you sit up on your knees and tighten your grip, just slightly, and increase your pace. His eyebrows pull together as he continues to observe, a face of pleasure, and you feel another wave of heat rush under your skin. Your hand reaches the tip, and the precum allows the smallest bit of lubrication as you twist your hand, up and down. 

“You’re doing a good job,” he groans, his voice deeper than before, hoarse, restrained. Hearing him like this, praising you, you’re sure you’ll go insane by the end of the night—if you weren’t already.  “You can use your mouth, too.”

“I know!” You quip, embarrassment tingling your cheeks. “I was getting there. Though I don’t know if it’ll fit…” The last bit is more for yourself than anything, said under your breath, but he hears you, and he can’t help but imagine you choking on his fat cock, tears streaming down your face. 

Ba-dum.

You lean forward, your eyes crossing as you near your target, and your hand settles at the base. You can do this, you tell yourself, before an unsure yet more than willing tongue licks at his cockhead. He tastes of salt and velvet, and your waiting eyes flick up at him. 

“Like that,” he purrs, his deep eyes, dark and yet darkening, narrowed on you by the time you’re looking at him. So intent on watching you, committing the scene to memory.

The encouragement leads you to flatten your tongue and run it along the length of one of the veins. His girth twitches in reaction, accompanied by a breathy curse and a jerk upwards of his hips, though this time intentional.

“Around the tip,” he instructs, his voice trapped somewhere between a groan and a whine. It’s the best he can do to keep himself from fucking into your throat. 

You do as he says, swirling your hot tongue around the pink head, collecting his slick in your mouth and finding yourself relishing in the taste. 

“Good girl. You’re doing so good.” He pants as his hand, purposefully slow, pushes your hair out of your face and collects it into a loose bunch at the back of your head. His head feels light, like if he doesn’t hold onto you someway, somehow, he’s going to float away. 

The two syllables bring your thighs together, a thrum of pressure building in your cunt. You’re soaked already, you can feel it gathering in your underwear, but something about his tone, his dilated eyes downcast, his heedless praise that urges you further, to slowly and messily run glaze his skin with your tongue, circling, up, down. You wanted to hear it more, hear his sounds of pleasure, hear his words of adoration. For him to touch you, everywhere.

And he knows. He senses the shift in your energy, the way you tense up when he encourages you, and he smells it, the collection of wetness just one, two layers away. His grip on your hair tightens, tension gathered at the nape of your neck.  

You swirl your tongue once, twice, three times around the tip before you wrap your pretty lips around his cock, sucking at it.

A popsicle, a strawberry at lunchtime, brewing electricity.

“Oh, fuck—” Kiba growls, and his hips buck into the warmth of your mouth as you bob your head, taking small, increasing portions of him each time, little moans vibrating his skin. “Shit, yes, like that. So fucking good.”

A slippery tongue, fingers tangling in hair, flashing lightning.

“Such a good girl. Move your hand while you—yes.” He pants as he watches his cock disappear into your throat, your hand pumping whatever you don’t take in your mouth. 

Two gazes met. 

Ba-dum. 

The crackling roll of thunder.

Within a moment, he scoops you up with a huff of impatience—so fucking fast, how does he do that—and you let out a yelp of surprise.

“Kiba!” You squirm as you’re placed over his shoulder and carried into your bedroom. 

He doesn’t answer you verbally; instead, he shrugs you onto the bed, and you land on your back. His erect member is still out, fully exposed, but he doesn't pay any mind to it as he takes fistfuls of your shorts and tugs them off, unwrapping you, a little present, just for him. 

“Kiba, what are you—” You start, but your words tangle in your throat when he rids you of your underwear, letting them fall to the floor. Unwrapped, a present, just for him. 

“Oh!” You exclaim when he hooks his arms under your thighs and tugs you to the edge of the bed. 

He falls to his knees, his intense eyes falling to your glistening folds. You smell even sweeter this way, and his head buzzes, dizzied, intoxicated as he drinks you in. His composure is slipping, and he wastes no time lapping his tongue along your slit, from entrance to clit. 

“Oh…!” You purr, and then you muffle yourself with your hand as schlurp sound comes from him kissing your cunt, sloppy and hasty. His tongue is rough against your sensitive skin, and when it catches your swollen bud, your hips jerk under him, moaning against your palm. 

“No,” he huffs against you in that hoarse, demanding voice. He laps his tongue along your entirety, and then he suckles at your throbbing clit, his eyes watching, always watching. “I wanna hear you.”

“But what if—ahh, fuck—!” You tremble under his touch, your voice hushed, and you grip the blanket. You, too, feel the weightlessness, the risk of drifting away if you don’t. Your face contorts into bliss as your back arches, pushing yourself against his mouth. It’s like you’re vibrating, hanging in a space between fantasy and reality. This isn’t real, it can’t be, his mouth can’t feel that good, not Kiba’s mouth, not—

His nails press into your skin as he holds on to you, pulling you closer, closer to him as he eats you, his fervent and messy movements building a tension in your abdomen more intense than anything you’ve accomplished by yourself. His tongue teases your entrance, your nectar driving him further. He delves it into you, holding you against him as he fucks his appendage into your sopping cunt.

“Kiba—” You moan into the air, your other hand finally finding purchase on his arm, clinging to him. 

His name tumbles from your lips, and for a moment, he swears the world goes silent, a deafening ringing filling his ears as you call out. He feels you tightening around him, a bewildered aura taking him over. He’s now desperate for your release, to feel you squirm and writhe underneath him, to keep calling his name. He trails his tongue back to your clit, flicking, circling as a slender finger finds your entrance. It slips inside, your arousal coating his skin, and it pumps in and out of you, restrained, slow.

“Oh, god,” you exhale, your eyes widening as he adds another finger, his digits curling inside of you. “Oh, that feels so good, fuck.”

“Mmmhh.” He watches you arch off the bed, his nose pressed to your mound, his tongue making quick and heavy work of your pulsing clit, stretching you as he adds another finger, slow, waiting for the blockade, the maybe we shouldn’t.

His pulsing length twitches, a violent motion that calls his attention, but he forces it out of his mind. This is about you, about stretching you and pushing you over the edge, your sweet release. The tightness of your walls tells him it's soon, your body tense. 

Instead, his pumping of his slender digits is met with another cry of his name. Three fingers stuffed, his fingertips massaging the sweet spot inside of you. The burn of the stretch pulls your eyebrows together, and yet you roll your hips against him, wanting the friction, craving the release, another explosion of deafening thunder, the swelling thunderstorm that is Kiba.

“Ki-Kiba, I’m gonna—” You can’t even finish your sentence. It hits you, almost out of nowhere. You’re unraveling, your legs shaking, your skin on fire and the swelling storm raging, ravaging your entire body as it caves in. Your juices pour out of you, trickling down his chin, and he drinks you up with another loud schlurp.

“Fuck.” He groans against you, and his lips envelop your clit as he pumps his fingers into back you, his tongue resuming its assault. His fingers move in you with a faster pace, a hardened pressure against the spongy flesh inside of you. “I need you to cum again. To be ready for my cock.”

“Oh, shit!” You sob. “Right there, right there, right there—”

You’re so sensitive, so intoxicated by the way he handles you, the way he looks at you, the way even he smells, tastes, feels. 

“That’s it.” He eggs you on, the itch to palm himself, to rut into you, to lose it just out of reach. 

You claw at his arm, at the sheets, at anything you can. You’re going to explode, his slippery tongue and fervent fingers bringing you again, closer to ecstasy. 

“Cum for me,” he demands, and as if you’d been born to listen, you do on his gruff command, crying out curses as a mind-stopping orgasm bursts through you. You see stars, the entire night sky on your bedroom ceiling. 

“Good girl.” He swipes his tongue along your clit before he removes his fingers from you, slow, gentle, and he sucks his fingers clean of your slick, his girth throbbing harder, harder at your taste. Honey glaze, a spark of lightning, crashing branches in the wind. 

He steps out of his joggers and tugs off his shirt, his shoes having been left at the door long ago, his blood coursing through his veins, liquid metal, at the sight of your shivering, half naked body beneath him. With another fast motion, he’s hovering over you, his arm wrapped around your waist to bring you back further onto the bed, your head hitting pillows this time. His hands graze from your thighs and up your shirt, his palms brushing the hardened peaks of your nipples before he lifts your shirt off of you. And then he stares down at you, starved yet adoring eyes. Skinny dipping, a lakeside fire, burnt marshmallows.

You meet his gaze as your chest heaves, coming down slowly from your high, studying the angle of his collarbone, the curve of his chest, the dim light highlighting the flesh that you never dared to touch, to learn—until now. You place your hands on his arms, feeling the ripple of muscle as you feel his shoulders, his chest.

A moment, suspended in time between the both of you. Your heavy breathing fills the otherwise quiet room and the low, rhythmic hum of cicadas just outside your window. Your heart is a drum inside of your chest, beating, beating, bursting as he looks down at you, and your heart skips as you feel his cockhead tease your entrance, rubbing against your slick folds and causing a hitched gasp to fall when it grazes over your sensitive clit. 

“Are you ready for me?” Kiba inquires in a husky voice, gravely and controlled. 

Ba-dum.

“Yes,” you whisper in return, your hands settling on his biceps as you keep your eyes on his. 

“Okay,” he nods, swallowing the lump in his throat, and he presses himself into you, slow, achingly slow.

Ba-dum.

Another gasp wracks your chest, and your eyes widen again as you watch his face scrunch in concentration. And then he whines, a short and quiet sound that makes your ears ring. He wants to jerk into you, bottom out, and the self-restraint is slipping out of his grasp like grains of sand. 

Ba-dum.

“Relax for me,” he urges you through clenched teeth as your walls remain tight around him. 

“S-Sorry. Oh, fuck, Kiba. I-it’s huge.” You stammer as you glance down at his girth disappearing into you, stretching you past anything your fingers, even his, could offer. You feel every inch of him as he spreads you, opening his present, celebrating his own holiday.

“I know, I’m sorry. You’re taking me so well.” He pants, working hard not to split you in two.

Ba-dum.

The pinch of his stretching you is different, much different than his fingers. He pulls himself back before pushing into you again, your slick aiding in his movements. It’s nothing like how you imagined, the awful and bloodied thing that’s rumored to be losing your virginity, but as he loads himself fully into you, pushing past the subtle barrier within, your body tenses up again, and a tinge of pain replaces the pleasure. 

“S-sorry, sorry.” He stumbles over his words. For years, he’s wondered what his girth would look like with you donning it, and now it’s here, right here. And it’s beautiful, heavenly. He doesn’t have the words to describe the way you look wrapped around him—the way you look in general, let alone eyebrows upturned, sweat collecting along your hairline, a heaving chest—but worth every fucking minute of waiting.

“Just—gimme a sec, okay?”

Ba-dum.

“Yeah, yes, sure.”

You take in deep breaths, wetness pooling at your entrance, and you ease the tension in your muscles, allowing yourself to acclimate. Relax, relax, but fuck you’re at capacity, at your wits end, wanting to unravel all over again—and he’s barely even moved.

“Okay… we’re good.”

“You sure?”

Ba-dum.

“Yes.” You answer, a strong syllable on your tongue. You’ve never been so sure in your life.

Ba-dum.

And he hears the certainty, feels it reverberate through his bones. He pulls himself back, then into you again, another restrained roll of his hips. You can tell he’s holding back with the way his face is pulled together, with the vein in his neck jutted out. 

“Shit.” Kiba mutters, one hand finding purchase on your hip while the other supports him on the bed. 

“Fuck, Kiba…” You sigh, your body slowly making room for him. 

“My name sounds nice when you moan it,” he purrs, leaning down, his skin desperate for contact with yours. 

“Don’t say things like that,” you whisper, a near-plea, your nails digging into his skin as your eyes fall half-hooded. And then he hits that spot, the spot, deep within you, and your back lifts off the bed, pressing your chest to his, another moaned swear falling out of you.

“Why?” He grins, a coy look that almost makes his depraved gaze seem sweet. “It’s true.”

“Idiot…” You respond, your voice hitched. 

“Hm?” He cocks his head to the side, a wild look filling his features. He jerks his hips, once, hard, bucking into you before returning to his agonizingly slow pace. “Couldn’t hear you.”

“Fuck!” You cry out, dragging your nails along his skin. It hurts, his abrasiveness, but it hurts in a way you don’t hate, that you almost want again. “Fucking asshole.”

“Asshole?” He chuckles, a guttural sound that isn’t impressed. He ruts into you again, wanting to hear that squeaky little voice, that pitched moan that he’s creating. “Baby girl, that’s not you really mean, is it?”

“Goddamn it, fuck, Kiba!” Your voice carries through the room, sending a prickling heat up his spine at the sound. You’re full, so full, and his resolve is slipping, slipping, gone altogether when you sob out his name again. 

“Look at you, taking all of me,” he praises, and he glances down at his work before a growled moan leaves his own lips. “Fuck, you’re doing so good.”

Pleasured tears burn your eyes, and you look up at him before reaching up, without thinking, and tangle your hands in his hair, pulling him fully against you. Another sound of pleasure vibrates his chest, muffled as he presses his lips to yours, another messy, impassioned, needy dance. 

Another whine escapes him as the restraint fades away into nothing. Your hips open for him, your legs wrapping around his waist as his movements become heavier, more momentum behind them. He envelops you with his arms, one hooked on your shoulder and the other holding your hip. You’re so close, so close; there is no longer anything in the fucking way.

“The way a man feels about you is crystal clear when you bed ‘im.” Ino’s words weigh on your mind, and you wonder if friends are supposed to cling to each other like this.

Of course they don’t, but you don’t allow the thought to cross your mind. Not here, not now. 

“Kiba, Kiba—” You pant against his lips between struggling breaths and fervent kisses. 

“You’re fucking heaven,” he huffs in return. He moves again, peeling away from you only to push your legs to your chest before leaning down again.

“Fuck, it’s so fucking deep.”

“That’s it,” he coos, his balls slapping against you as he fucks into you, his mercy and patience wearing thin. “Take it all. Good girl.”

The earth-splitting strike of lightning, the house-shaking rumble of thunder.

You’re spinning, free-falling as his length is buried inside of you, his cockhead brushing against your cervix. It’s deep, too deep, not deep enough. Your nails rake across his shoulder blades. His lips find the curve of your neck, and he sucks at the skin, biting down, keeping you in place. 

“Shit, shit—” The bubbling of heat collects in your abdomen, and you grip his hair once more, tight, a grounding grip.

He growls against your flesh as he brings the blood to the surface, but this time he doesn’t stop. He’s marking you, his, his, his. 

“Kiba!” You call out, your voice echoing, laced with a warning and pure nirvana.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, licking the skin, before landing on another spot on the other side and repeating himself. “I can’t fucking help it. I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t mean it, and you can tell. The unfortunate part is: neither do you.

He mutters another half-apology as his thrusts become relentless, fucking into you as he did with the girls he gave meaningless kisses to. But you’re not them, you’re you, it’s not meaningless, it never will be.

You sob his name as you cling to him, the wet sounds accompanying the slap of skin. You’re floating away, gone, a fever dream within a fever dream, trembling legs hugging his waist.

“G-Gonna—” 

“Fuck, yes, cum for me. Cum all over this fucking cock.”

And you do, hard. A violent, shattering burst of heat and your essence that sends you into orbit, lightheaded, tears of bliss rolling down your cheeks. Your walls clench around him, milking him for everything he has.

He thrusts into you, enough force behind them to rock the bed, to scoot you further into the pillows as his own climax swells. He bottoms out once, twice, each jerk making you cry out before he pulls away from you, a hasty and frantic movement, steadying his member in his hand as ropes of white hot cum land across your stomach in spurts.

You pant for air, chest heaving, your head still reeling by the time he’s wiped you clean of his essence, your body twitching as it works to come down from its nirvana. You hear him in the kitchen before he emerges at the bedside, a glass of water handed to you as he sits next to you. 

“Here.” He says gently, his tone now opposite of what it was mere moments ago.

“Thanks.” You sigh, and you sit yourself up, slowly, before taking the glass. After a few sips, you hand it back to him, and he follows your lead, one, two gulps of ice-cold heaven in a glass. Water has never tasted so sweet before.

“You okay?” He asks, looking over your sprawled-out body, a whisper of a laugh in his voice.

“Yeah…” you nod, though you can already tell you’ll be sore, so fucking sore tomorrow. “Yeah, I’m okay. Are you?”

“Never better.” He grins, and then his eyes widen as he catches his practice, his art of suppressing his feelings for you also slipping from his grasp. He clears his throat and looks down at the drink in his hand. You can tell the wheels in his mind are turning, grinding, but you don’t ask.

You don’t have to. That’s what friends are for.

#my writing #kiba inuzuka #kiba inuzuka x reader #x reader fic #kiba smut #kiba inuzuka smut #kiba fanfic #goddamn why cant i write a DRABBLE #inuzuka kiba #inuzuka kiba x reader

[cupajoscafe]

commission for my friend of his oc and keeb >:3c check out the full thing on my tweeter

#my art #stuck in naruto hell #kiba #kiba inuzuka #inuzuka kiba #naruto #kiba naruto #kiba inuzuka naruto #inuzuka kiba naruto #kiba inuzuka smut #inuzuka kiba smut #naruto oc #kiba x oc #oc x kiba #kiba inuzuka x oc #oc x kiba inuzuka #suggestive #cw: suggestive

[tired-biscuit]

best friends to lovers — werewolf edition!

important content warnings: 18+ MDNI, monsterfucking, friends to lovers, unestablished mating bond, mutual pining, college/modern AU.

pairing: werewolf!bsf!kiba inuzuka/fem!reader

divider credit: cafekitsune

↳ finding peace in the spontaneous wild (26.2k) — when an accidental encounter with your former childhood best friend leads you to agree to a one-night camping trip consisting of just you two, you discover that there’s more to your friendship than initially meets the eye.

↳ a friend, a mate, and all things in-between (22.8k) — 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.

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

[honeybeedrabble]

KinkTober Day 11: Pet Play - Kiba x AFAB!Reader (pt. 2)🎃

Cw: Kiba x AFAB!reader, pet play, oral (f receiving), hair pulling, piv unprotected (don’t be stupid), creampie (don’t be stupid), breeding, mention of squirting and over stim, biting, breast play, collaring, lmk what i missed.

18+ MDNI

You were at your vanity yet again, finishing up your skin care routine before bed and applying the final under eye cream, a cooling sensation on your face. You looked for your hair brush, small glass bottles of serums clanking together as you searched.

“Kiba, be a good boy and fetch me my brush!” you called, turning around in the small ottoman.

Kiba was on his hands and knees, crawling towards you with the black brush in his mouth, his face was painfully red as he approached you, sitting on his ankles when he was infront of you. You held out your hand and his face lowered into it, dropping the brush into your hand.

“Thank you, baby!” You said, ruffling his hair before brushing your own in the vanities mirror. You hummed, untangling your hair when you felt Kibas forehead rest against your back. You turned your head to look at him.

“What’s wrong, boy? Does someone want attention?” You asked, resting the brush next to your creams.

“Y-yes please…” Kiba said softly, clearly a little flustered.

You turned around and looked at him, caressing his face before grabbing his collar and pulling him in for a deep kiss. He slightly gasped, then put his hands around your waist as he kissed you with a strong desire for more. His hips came closer to your ankles and you could feel the bulging in his pants when he started to grind against you. You smirked.

“Such a needy boy…” you teased, kissing his jaw as he rutted into you. “If you want me to get you off you’re going to need to do me a favor.” You said. He looked at you instantly nodding up and down.

“W-Whatever you want, master,” Kiba said, hips stilling. You smiled softly, then your smile contorted into a twisted grin when you shoved him off of you. His butt hit the floor and he looked up at you with a sweetly-confused expression. You opened your legs, when he looked up your short robe he saw you weren’t wearing any panties.

“Hurry up, boy.” You said, arms crossed. He quickly dove into between your legs and your hand instinctively went to tangle in his hair.

Kiba started lapping at your clit hungrily, his tongue opening you up and tasting the sweet arousal that dripped out of your weeping hole. He shook his head side to side, greedily tongue fucking your gushing pussy as he soon lost all concentration. You bucked your hips, whimpering loud as you felt him lick his names letters on your cunt, a sort of territorial marking for him.

He pawed at your ass, squeezing it tightly as you writhed against his touch. His licking became more aggressive, sucking your clit then letting it go to taste your slick from down further. It was almost too much, you pulled his hair and a deep rumble came from his chest, attacking your needy cunt with a sense of starvation, a madman between your legs.

“S-Such a g-good boy, K-Kiba,” you whimpered, head thrown back as you shook between his arms. His grip became harsh on you, licking a long, slow, stripe up your folds.

“Stay. Still.” He back talked before resuming his work, his spit mixed with your slick had coated his cheeks, rubbing against your thighs. It soon became too much and your climax hit you like a wave. Crashing down hard as you whimpered and whined in his embrace. Your thighs started to tremble and your cores tightness settled, cunt pulsing against his tongue. A fire was ignited inside of you, heat radiating throughout your entire body, feeling yourself squirt onto your boyfriends face. He groaned, licking the sweet juice that spilled out of your cunt and tasting you like his life depended on it.

You pushed his head away, and looked down at him. His brows furrowed when he looked up at you. He defiantly licked a quick stripe up your clit again and you moaned, then quickly pushed him back.

“B-Bad boy, Kiba…” you panted, chest heaving as your body tried to settle after the orgasm. Kiba came back up, gripping your hips firmly and licking up and down your neck, you tilted your head up and sighed, his tongue working wonders on your skin.

“My turn…” He huffed, lifting you up into his arms, bringing you to your shared bed. He threw you down and laid on top of you, kissing your pillowy lips. You kissed back, a small whine escaping your throat when you felt his hard package.

“Y-You earned it, Kiba.” You said, hands running up and down his back. He kissed you, smiling when you said it.

“Thank you, Master,” he said low and sensually, opening up your robe and looking at your soft body underneath him. He quickly removed his clothes, then fisted his dick a few times, looking at the mess he made of your swollen sex.

“So fucking hot…” he muttered, running the tip of his cock along your messy folds. You grunted, gripping the sheets tightly as you looked down at the scene.

Kiba trailed the tip of his cock up one last time before bringing it down to your warm hole and thrusting himself inside with a shaky moan. Instantly you tightened around him, feeling his cock part you deliciously. Your hand moved from the sheets to his back, nails scratching the poor man’s skin but he couldn’t care less. He only had one thing on his mind, he just wanted to breed you.

He bottomed out inside of you, his balls resting against your ass crack, then he slowly pulled out of you until he slammed back inside with a grin on his face. You moaned loudly, your walls fluttering against him and he sighed deeply. With his hands on your hips his pace increased by tenfold, ramming into you, chasing for his own release with yours coincidentally building up to.

“Enjoying yourself, master?” he teased, looking down at your fucked out face. Your cheeks were a dark pink and your eyes were hazy and lustful, eyes half lidded as he pumped in and out of you.

“Y-Yes, Kiba.” You moaned, jaw hanging loose until his tongue tangled with yours. You could taste your arousal on his tongue, moaning deeply against his lips. “Y-you’re in heat,” you breathed out, breaking the kiss. Kiba smiled devilishly, nibbling your lower lip.

“And what about it?” He smirked, his hips slamming into you, ordering silence except for the euphonic moans that spilled out of your lips.

Your chest felt heavy and breathing became harder as his body weight was against you, his chest flush with yours. You let out a few praises, “good boy”s and “so good”s escaping you as your pussy leaked around him, grotesque noises of him fucking you mixed with the slap of his balls to your ass filled the room.

Kiba grabbed your legs and pushed you into a mating press, his cock much deeper inside of you now and as he pounded you you came, whimpering his name over and over again and how good he was. You pulled him by his collar into you, kissing him again as he swallowed your praises. His thrusts became sloppier until he spurted his huge load inside of you, panting your name back to you and nipping your collar bone.

His load filled you up completely, even daring to dribble out until he pulled out and fucked his cum back into you with the tip of his cock. You shuddered, pulling him back into you and feeling your breasts push into his warm chest.

“So good and yet so defiant…” you breathed, hands petting his fluffy hair. “Do I need to bring out the leash again, you animal?” You purred.

“You know you like me best like this.” He said, face nuzzled into your tits. He popped a nipple do yours into his mouth and you sighed heavily, kissing the crown of his head.

“Atta boy.”

Tag list: @fuckmachine42069 @pasdasin @alien-girl-violet

Next: Somnophilia - Joel Miller X Reader

#smut #naruto #kiba x reader smut #kiba x reader #kiba inuzuka #kiba inuzuka smut #kiba smut #kiba inuzuka x reader #naruto smut #naruto fic #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #shaggys bitches kinktober

[aaizawashouta]

Heatin' Up

pairing: frat!kiba x fem!reader

word count: 3.6k

summary: kiba and his famous beer pong partner finally do the dirty. (modern!au)

warnings: smut (18+, minors dni) oral f and m receiving, p in v, cream pie.

a/n: it's me, hi. this was long over due. i love them your honor.

→ Wyd later? 

You could feel the disgust on your face. It never ceases to amaze you how much of a fuckboy he could be. No wonder he was in a frat. What did this make you? His booty call? Ugh, you’re the only one who would ever answer him on such short notice. Your nails tapped against your phone as you contemplated your answer.

→ Party @ the house 

→ Got your fav 

What did he think you are? Some schmuck? As if your favorite drink would be enough to pull you from the comfort of your room. But then you hear the giggling. Your roommates are never quiet, and you know their habits. Especially when you hear Shikamaru’s name dropped. Ino’s been trying to get into his pants for weeks. Sighing, you push your blankets off your lap, knowing you're in a losing situation.

The girls barge into your room, animatedly talking over one another. You get the jist, which you already knew. Sakura eyes you suspiciously when you don’t fight them on coming along. Ino’s already tearing into your closet. You pinch the side of your thigh to keep yourself from freaking out.

“We promise,” Ino says as she coats your lashes in mascara. “We won’t leave your side.”

It’s a lie, it always is. They always abandon you at some point. Not that it matters. Because there is one who always sniffs you out. You couldn’t hide from him even if you wanted to.

→ you comin? 

I’ll be there! Find me xoxo ←

It was a new world record. You’d lost sight of your roommates the moment you walked in. Not all that bummed about it, you headed to the kitchen. You had been promised your favorite drink. Gaara and Kankuro are stationed in the kitchen. Their only job is to make sure that the drinks stay clean. A shutter rushes over you as you think about how the house had been your freshman year. A hand rubs at your forearm, the pink and shiny scar a reminder of the hell that broke out that night. Grabbing your drink, Gaara pops the cap off for you, smiling as you take a much needed drink. The latter gives you a wink accompanied by a smirk. You flash them a smile before braving the rest of the party.

You hear him before you see him. Laughter and sharp words greet you when you step out into the backyard. There’s a bonfire, most of your friend group sits around it. Naruto and Kiba are bickering, both hotheaded and passionate about their beliefs. You can’t make out what it is exactly they're arguing about, you just hope it isn’t something stupid. Taking another swig of your drink, eyes cast down to watch your steps, a large hand wraps around your arm. You glance up to see Kiba. His large frame blocking out the light from the fire, but his grin still lights up his face. 

“There she is,”

“I told you I was coming.”

“Thought you got lost when your dumbass friends walked out here without you.”

Well, he’s not wrong is he? He had some faith in you, though, given he didn’t come hunt you down himself. But now that he has you, he isn’t letting you go. Time moves quickly whenever you’re with Kiba. One drink turns into two, and two into three. 

“Hey, the pong table is open!”

You yelp when you're yanked from your seat, tripping over your own feet as you're dragged back into the house. “Game face on, baby. We got a table to dominate.”

It’s never been like this intense before. Sweat drips down your neck. You’ve stripped down every layer while still remaining decent. Not everybody at this party needs to see you in your undies. Goosebumps breakout on your skin when a deep sigh comes from behind you. Nerves? Not a thing. Anxiety never seems to dig its claws in you. The only thing that ever sets you off is the impatient man behind you breathing down your neck.

This is the last shot of the game. The make or break of your winning sweep. You and Kiba always dominate the pong table, but tonight is something special. Or it could be. If only he’d take a step back and let you fucking breathe.

Slowly you turn, head tilting to clash gazes with familiar amusement. His brows shoot up into his headband, actually your headband – it’s your favorite color. He’s shirtless, when the hell did that happen? Probably started stripping down when you did. Jeans hanging low on his hips, the band of his underwear playing with the dark hair of his happy trail. His sneakers are toe to toe with your bare feet. It’s almost like a superstition. Or maybe because playing beer pong in high heels isn’t a smart idea. For you, anyway.

“Are you going to throw?”

“Are you going to let me breathe?”

His grin takes on a wolfish form as he steps into your space. Always by your side, never more than an arms length away. If anyone knows how to push your buttons it’s Kiba. If there’s anyone who isn’t afraid of pushing your buttons, it’s Kiba. You’ve been giving him a lot of slack lately. No pushback for all the bullshit he throws your way. Your lips purse, lifting your foot you step on the toes of his shoes.

“Bro, what the fuck.”

“Back away, Inuzuka. Wouldn’t want to scuff up those kicks.”

Your lips twitch when he huffs out a humorless laugh. As if he’s surprised by your audacity. Kiba takes a step back, his jaw clenching when you refuse to pick up your foot. Yeah, the fucking audacity.

“You’re mean.”

“You’re messing up my game.”

“Are you even playing anymore?”

You look behind you with a sneer on your face. Naruto and Lee stand there – Lee literally vibrating from all the energy drinks he’s had. Naruto rolls his shoulders, pinning you and Kiba with a bored look.

“Why? Want me to kick your ass that bad, huh?”

The group watching laughs, causing you to smile. Naruto gives you the bird before pouting. Another swig of your drink down and your shoulders loosen. Warm hands land on your waist, lips brushing against your ear.

“Nothing but water, baby.”

 “This is the winning shot, what do I get if I make it?”

There isn’t a doubt you’ll make it. You’re gloating now. A wide grin eating up your face as you roll the ball through your fingers.

“When’d you turn into a scammer? That’s easy fucking money. Everyone here knows you’ll make the shot.”

“What are you willing to hand over, Kiba?”

He’s silent, debating. You quirk an eyebrow as you stare up at him over your shoulder, intrigued by the wheels turning in his head. He sighs, fingers digging into your sides. “Throw the damn ball.”

You can’t help but snort. It’s not rocket science, beer pong. It’s technique, all in the wrist. But don’t tell any of the meatheads that. God forbid you figured out how to beat the frat bros at their own game. Which you do every time you play. Taking a deep breath you position yourself, aiming. The hoots and hollers quiet down as you look from the red solo cup to Kiba. He’s beaming; smirk showing off a sharp fang. Slightly threatening, but boyish all the same. It’s a clean shot – you sink it without even looking.

The pride that flares in Kiba’s eyes sends heat through you. There isn’t a moment to think about it before he’s rushing you. In an instant you’re off your feet, a screech leaving you as you hastily wrap your arms around his neck. 

“Hell yeah, that’s my girl.”

Your teeth bite into your cheek to hold back your whimper. This isn’t the first time he’s said something like that. How easily he calls you pet names and claims you as his. He’s known you since you were a gap toothed little kid with knobby knees. The only one mean enough to put Kiba in his place when his mouth got away from him.

“Ki, you’re making me dizzy.”

He grumbles but lets you down. Not bothering to move away his chest brushing against your back with every breath. Not like you mind. You’ve never been one to shy away from Kiba. He invades your space, your mind, your dreams. 

“It’s not fair.” Naruto complains, downing another cup of cheap beer. “I want her as my partner in the next game.”

Kiba’s grip on your waist tightens when he looks over your shoulder towards the blond. “Over my dead fucking body. She’s mine.”

Snickering from beside you catches your attention. Ino and Sakura sit with their drinks trying to hide their smug looks. Oh yeah, you’ll never hear the end of it. They’ve been trying to set you and Kiba up for a while now. You don’t ever encourage their meddling, but you don’t put a stop to it either. Because there is a big part of you that wonders. It’s your little secret if the part that wonders happens late at night with your fingers buried deep between your legs. No one has to know. 

“What the fuck are you snickering for? Not like anyone wants you.”

The drink you’re holding gets slammed down on the table. Kiba pulls you into him as you choke on the liquid. You’re trying to breathe, but your laughter keeps bubbling up, making it hard. Large palms run up and down your spine, a soothing gesture. Finally gulping in some air you flash Kiba an appreciative smile.

He’s got a look in his eye, one you’ve never seen before. Goosebumps erupt across your skin. His gaze takes you in from head to toe; it’s predatory, wild. The hand he used to sooth you is now gripping the back of your neck. Kiba pulls you close, head tilted down, nose brushing against your own. You’ve got to fight to keep your eyes from fluttering closed. Warm breath ghosts over your parted lips, waiting. You nod, barely visible, but Kiba catches it. Warm lips meet yours. Firm against your own, but not demanding. He’s holding back, not wanting to put on a show. You gasp when his tongue lightly brushes against your bottom lip, and then he’s gone. Pulling away, leaving you only a small taste.

Clearing your throat you pick up your discarded items. “I need to pee.”

“Sure, babe. Let’s go.”

A huff leaves your lips as you follow after him. His large frame breaks through the sea of people, keeping you from getting knocked around. It gets a beat quieter when you hit the stairs. Less people, less chatter. Kiba bangs on the bathroom door, giving no time before ripping it open. Covering your mouth so the embarrassed couple doesn’t see you laughing. The poor girl has no time to adjust her skirt before Kiba is manhandling them out of the way. 

“Do your business.”

You wait a beat. “Get out.”

“Babe,”

“Kiba! I’m not peeing with you in here!”

“Nothing I haven’t seen before.”

That makes your temper flare. “Don’t compare me to your one night stands. You’ve only seen me naked in your dreams, but even that is lacking.”

In a blink of an eye he’s got you shoved against the counter. Hand wrapped around your throat, lips brushing over yours as he speaks. “Only because you won’t give it up.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“You know me better than anybody. But sometimes, you’re so fucking blind it pisses me off.”

“I swear to god, Kiba, if you think you’re going to fuck me in this bathroom–” Your mouth snaps shut. You don’t even want to entertain that thought. But Kiba is grinning now, big and brilliant. A cat that got the cream. Makes you want to smack him.

“I knew it.” He whispers. “I knew you wanted me. Bet you touch that sweet pussy thinking of me, don’tcha sweetheart?”

No, absolutely not. You aren’t doing this. You manage to shove him away, a glare settling over your pretty features. You slam the bathroom door open ready to leave. You never really had to pee, you just needed a breather. Now here you are; stressed out and getting hornier by the second. But the chance to leave never comes. You never step out of the bathroom. Kiba takes this into his own hands –quite literally– and picks you up, tossing you over his shoulder.

“Fuck you, Inuzuka. Put me down!”

“Yeah, baby. That’s the plan.”

You can’t fight him. Can’t ignore the heat that spreads through you. Your thighs would be rubbing together if Kiba didn’t have a mean grip on them. So you hang there, blood rushing to your head as he enters his room. He tosses you on the bed, standing there staring at you with a hungry, desperate gaze while you get your bearings. 

Grabbing your ankle Kiba drags you down the bed, smacking your thigh to get your attention. “Let’s go, baby girl. On your knees.”

“What?”

Kiba raises a brow. “On. Your. Knees.”

“You want me on my knees for you? You first.”

Hands grab at you, hastily undoing your pants before tugging them along with the black thong you wore down your legs. Kiba never takes his eyes off you as he tosses the clothes over his shoulder. His fingers tangle with yours, dragging your hand down your body, drawing your fingers up and down the seam between your legs, a sign you take to spread them. He doesn’t have to give you any more direction. Eagerly you dip a finger in, building up a pace before adding another. Placing one hand on a bare thigh, he holds you open, pushing his shoulders in between to get closer to you. A satisfied groan leaves you when he kisses your thigh. His teeth scrape over the sensitive flesh, a laugh rumbling in his chest when he notices your hand moving faster and faster the closer he gets to your core.

“Kiba,” you’re begging. Needy, and desperate. 

His hand moves, expert fingers toying with your pert nipples. Back arching with each tug and twist. You’re mumbling–bite, bite, bite. With your own hand busy between your legs, Kiba pushes up on his elbows, licking a trail between the valley of your breasts before sucking one in his mouth. You whimper, hand now tangled in his hair, holding him tight as you push your tit into his mouth. He rolls it in his mouth, tongue flicking at it before sucking. Eyes wide, pupils blown out as he watches you teeter closer to the edge.

His hand trails down your stomach, fingers tracing over yours. A grunt escapes him when he realizes you’ve stopped moving it. He tsks at you, pulling himself away from your chest. “Don’t stop,” he commands, his hand gripping your now stilled hand and forcing your fingers back inside. No longer two deep, but three. He wants you stretched out and ready for him. He keeps his hand over yours, controlling the pace. ‘Come on sweetheart – fuck, like that.”

He watches you for a moment, before lowering himself back down. You jolt at the flat of his tongue running over your nipple. A low groan parting your lips when his teeth finally latch on to it. You’ve always been a sucker for pain. Especially with your nipples being as sensitive as they are. He could make you come just by playing with them alone. Dragging his teeth over the tender flesh, he flicks his tongue over it. How fast can he make you come like this? Applying more pressure to the hand between your legs, it's a race between your fingers and his tongue. 

“Kiba, fuck.” 

Your legs are trembling around him, your weight shifting back onto your toes. Chasing, chasing… Kiba bites down on your nipple, hard. You scream as your orgasm washes over you like a tidal wave. You look so fucking pretty when your like this, basking in your orgasm glow.

Knowing that your legs are anything but steady, you roll off the bed, landing on all fours before crawling over to sit on your haunches before him. You look up at him expectantly, waiting for your next order. He smiles down at you. Hand cupping your cheek, thumb caressing your cheekbone, finding its way down to your bottom lip. He pulls on the tender flesh, watching as your lips part and your tongue automatically comes out. Waiting, hungry.

“Are you going to be nice?” You whine, scooting forward, wanting nothing more than the feel of his heavy cock on your tongue. “Good girl, baby. Take the whole thing.”

Both hands tangle in your hair. He doesn’t move an inch, letting you come to him. Your eyes prick with tears as he makes his way in. You love the stretch, no matter where it is. Slowly, slowly, you make until you're suffocating with his cock down your throat and your nose in his dark hair. 

“That’s it — fuck, stay right there.”

His thighs twitch when you hum around him. Your mouth is so soft and warm, he could come right now if he really wanted to. But that’s not what he wants, not what you want. All of this is just foreplay. Because nothing will compare to when he’s got his cock in you and you’re begging him to fill you up, to use you. He’s been dreaming of that for years. His eyes roam all over you as he steadies his breathing, taking in the lewd scene that’s all you. 

“You’re a goddamn daydream. You know that?”

Hand pushing on your head, you gag around him before quickly being pulled away. You brace yourself, letting him use your face for his pleasure. Tears stream down your cheeks, making your eyes sparkle. Cheeks hallowed, lips suctioning around him until he can’t take it anymore. Pulling himself out of your mouth, Kiba reaches down and wraps you up in arms only to turn and toss you on the bed. You’re pussy clenches around nothing when you see the feral look in his eyes. He’s grinning down at you, but it isn’t nice. He’s going to devour you whole. Crack open your ribs and feast on everything that you are, everything you have to offer. When he’s had his fill and he’s done, you’ll do nothing but say thank you. 

“Spread those legs. I want that cunt.”

It’s your favorite part, when he first enters you. That first stretch, the feel of his cock making its way into you. He doesn’t know it yet, but you need to feel how much it hurts. Maybe your as fucking feral as he is. 

He swiftly moves to his knees, a hand slides across your ass, slapping you just hard enough to leave a red handprint behind as he thrust deep, bottoming out. It’s a silent scream, no sound leaving you. He’s big, so big, and he’s filling you up to the brim. It hurts, and you’re loving every inch that stretches you out. Your knuckles turn white with each rough, hard thrust. He slides a hand up your stomach, between your breasts so his hand can wrap it around your throat. He loves watching you come undone around him, and he’ll never forget it either. Your cheeks are flushed, pupils blown with lust, and lips parted as each of your clipped breaths turn into whimpers. 

“Babe,” he grits, hand tightening, cutting off a little more air, “you feel so fucking good.”

You stare back at him, feel as he moves to kneel on one knee, the angle shifting somewhere deeper inside of you. His teeth dig into your skin again, this time leaving bruises behind. It makes you whine. He thrusts harder, rougher until your hand is shooting out above your head, keeping you from hitting the headboard. He’s fully claiming you. Cock punching into the deepest part of you. Your head is empty, high in euphoria only Kiba can provide you. Words are pouring out of you, but you couldn’t understand what you were trying to say even if you wanted to. Whatever it is he wants to hear. Whatever keeps him close, keeps him inside of you. You never thought you’d get to be like this. 

“Kiba, I–” you're cut off by a whimper when he reaches that hard to reach spot deep inside you. Over and over again, you feel it coming, your orgasm is going to come crashing down. You’re going to drown in it, and you don’t know if you’ll make it out unscathed.

“You going to come on my cock, baby?”

“Yes!  Please, please, Kiba. Don’t stop. More, more, holy fuck,”

You come on his cock like a tidal wave, and when you collapse against the bed, your body trembles, heaving desperately for air. Kiba groans, pulling you up until you’re flush against him. His lips meet yours in a messy kiss, bucking his hips harder until he’s chasing his high right over the ledge with you. 

“Good girl,” he praises, letting go of your throat. “Such a good girl for me.”

It’s quiet, apart from your labored breathing. Kiba’s thumb runs along your stomach where his hand rests. He’s laying halfway on you, head nuzzled into the crook of your neck. It’s a soft moment, one you don’t wish to break. But this time, you really do need to pee.

“Kiba,” he grumbles, digging deeper into the comfort you provide. “Ki, get up. I have to pee.”

He glances up at you, clearly fighting off a grin. “You gonna kick me out this time?”

“Kiba,” you warn.

“What? Ain’t nothin’ I haven’t seen before.”

“Fucking, hell, Inuzuka.”

He chuckles, lifting his weight off you. He smiles at your glare. Quietly you get dressed. Your hair stacked up on your head in a messy bun. There’s no saving your makeup. You wince at your reflection, seeing your lipstick smeared all over your mouth. Calloused fingers grip your chin, lifting your face so he can mesh his lips with yours.

“You’re a vision, sweetheart.” he murmurs against your lips. “Don’t think this was a one time thing.”

Your head tilts. “Oh yeah? You addicted now?”

“Don’t be stupid. I’ve been addicted to you my whole fucking life.”

“Are you going soft on me?” 

He grins down at you. “Oh, baby. We’re just heatin’ up.”

#kiba inuzuka x reader #kiba x reader #kiba inuzuka x you #kiba x you #kiba smut #kiba inuzuka smut #kiba inuzuka one shot #naruto fanfiction

[galaxychaos78]

"You're such a good boy Ki'.."

The praise shoots right to puppy hybrid! Kiba's cock and the hybrid man whimpers almost pathetically as he fights the urge to palm his aching hard on. You had told him to keep his hands right at his sides and he did! But his cock was so hard in his sweats...He could feel it throb with every graze of your fingers against his neck, every gentle tug on his hair. He was sure his boxers were ruined now with how much pre cum his tip was leaking.

But like a good boy, he waited.

He waited until you stripped out of your clothes, swallowing hard at the scent of your pussy. He waited until you sat on the edge of the bed, eyes wide as you spread your folds and his mouth watered, hungered for a taste. You met his gaze and chuckled. Your hybrid was struggling to contain himself, you could see his mind fighting his instincts to mount you and breed you. To disobey you and take whatever he wanted from you. But the other half, the obedient half, wanted him to wait. He knew the risks of not listening to you & the rewards if he did.

"You've been so good lately," You coo, watching his cheeks flare red. Or maybe that was from struggling not to touch himself. (Cute either way). "You haven't tore up my pillows, haven't snuck into the pantry and eaten all the food. You haven't even growled or bitten me." You stand up to walk towards him and Kiba's tail wags harshly, the thump-thump of it echoing through your bedroom. You crouch down to his level and cup his cheeks in your hands, his pupils blown wide with lust and desperation. You pull him up to stand and motion to the bed. Kiba all but scrambles to it, letting out a sigh as the cold sheets soothe his warm skin. You plop down on your knees in between his spread legs and run your fingers up and down his calves. You glance down at his boxers, your cunt throbbing at the dark spot at the front of them.

"Can you take these off for me?" He nods eagerly and you watch as his fingers tug at the waistband of his boxers. Your gaze stays on his crotch and you don't miss the way your hybrid hisses at the air against his cock, or the sticky strands of pre cum that break as he tossed the soiled garment to a corner. His tip is as bright red as his cheeks and shiny with pre as it slaps against his stomach. "Been teasing you for too long huh? Made a mess of the boxers I bought you."

"M' sorry," He whines. It comes out scratchy and hoarse and so fucking needy, it makes you clutch the bedsheets. "I-I didn't mean to I just wanna be a good boy." His eyes are glossy with tears and you cup his cheek in your hand and he nuzzles into it, peppering kisses against your palm.

"Shh it's ok sweetheart," You shush the hybrid softly, your other hand skimming up the length of his shaft. "They're just boxers, I can always wash them." You lean your body against him and the hybrid squirms as your nipples press against his, at the feeling of you lips kissing at his neck, at the feeling of his cock gliding against your folds. He feels hot tears gliding down his cheeks. He wants to sink into your pussy and go dizzy with pleasure, wants to cover every inch of you in hickeys, wants to fill you up with so much of his cum. However, above all else, he was a good boy. Your good boy. But as you finally sunk down on his cock, as he clutched the bedsheets and rolled his eyes back as your pussy greedily clenched around him as you took every inch, he couldn't contain the loud pathetic whine that left his lips as he cummed. White spots danced around his vision as he bucked his hips into you, feeling the sticky combination of his cum and your pussy juices trickle down to his balls.

"Such a good boy for me...my best boy." You wipe the tears off Kiba's cheeks and rest your hands on his shoulders to keep yourself balanced. The wet and rythmic slap-slap-slap of skin against skin echoed through the bedroom and you took Kiba's nipples in between your fingers, relishing in the loud "hah!" he made from under you. Sweat glistened against his skin and drool trickled down the side of his mouth. He looked so pretty, so fucked out and beautiful.

"You're such a pretty boy Ki. Got a perfect cock for my pussy..." You murmur, grabbing his hands that were clenching the sheets and placing them right on your breasts. He didn't speak, only broken whimpers and breathy whines leaving his lips. He was so overstimulated, but bucked his hips weakly to match your bounces. You chuckled and patted his cheek, gleeful at the glossy look in his eyes. "You like when I compliment you huh?" He nods once, licking his lips.

"Like bein' yer' good boy..." His hands move down from your breasts to your ass, gripping the soft flesh of your asscheeks. "Wanna..wanna m-make you feel g-go-oh-" His sentence was cut short as you leaned down to place a kiss on his lips, your hips bouncing at a rapid pace. You eagerly swallowed his moans, letting your tongue glide over his in a messy frenzy of spit & teeth. As you pull away, you let your hand find your clit, letting out a moan as you rubbed the sensitive nub.

"So-oh fuck-s-so good! So pretty n' g-good to me!" Kiba was a babbling mess, so overcome with pleasure that you were sure he didn't even know what he was saying. His arms flew to your waist, clutching you tightly and forcing you down on his cock. "Love this pussy n' I love you! Please please please cum for me!" His babbling, his adorable declaration of love sent you over the edge. You pulled him into a kiss as you cummed & you could feel ribbons of hot cum spurt into your pussy as he cummed for the second time that day. You collapsed on top of him, giggling at the dopey smile on his face and his canines gleaming in the afternoon sun.

"You ok Ki?" He makes a soft noise and nuzzles into your neck, wrapping his arms around you tightly.

"M' so good...don't wanna get up just yet." You wanted to tell him that you had to get up so you could change the sheets and that the two of you could take a hot bath. But as you see his eyes close and how quickly his breathing evens out, you figure that your good boy deserved a quick nap.

#chaos speaks #something just snapped something inside of me #kiba inuzuka smut #kiba inuzuka x reader #kiba inuzuka #naruto shippuden #naruto shippuden smut #naruto shippuden x reader

[hidansdarling]

So the idea I had is for kiba x his longtime fem reader girlfriend.

So kiba decides to “accidentally” video tape him and the reader getting steamy one night, and when the reader finds the video she’s livid but then she gets super turned on and they get it on again while watching the tape☺️ and if you decide the video should leak that’s cool too😂

ℂ𝕒𝕞𝕖𝕣𝕒 𝕊𝕙𝕪

ℙ𝕒𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘: 𝕂𝕚𝕓𝕒 𝕩 𝔽𝕖𝕞 ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣 ℂ𝕨: ℕ𝕠𝕟-𝕔𝕠𝕟 𝕣𝕖𝕔𝕠𝕣𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕘, 𝕒𝕟𝕘𝕣𝕪 𝕤𝕖𝕩, 𝕔𝕦𝕟𝕟𝕚𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕦𝕤, 𝕧𝕒𝕘𝕚𝕟𝕒𝕝 𝕡𝕖𝕟𝕖𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟, 𝕔𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕞𝕡𝕚𝕖 𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕕 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 𝟚.𝟛 𝕜 ℕ𝕠𝕥𝕖𝕤: 𝕍𝕖𝕣𝕪 𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕪 𝕤𝕝𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕝𝕪 𝕕𝕚𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕘𝕖𝕟𝕥 𝕗𝕣𝕠𝕞 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕞𝕡𝕥 𝕓𝕦𝕦𝕦𝕦𝕦𝕦𝕦𝕦𝕥 𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕝𝕝 𝕙𝕠𝕥 𝕒𝕤 𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕝

ℝ𝕖𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕠 𝕡𝕝𝕤 𝕓𝕖 𝕟𝕚𝕔𝕖, 𝕀 𝕙𝕠𝕡𝕖 𝕦 𝕖𝕟𝕛𝕠𝕪 <𝟛𝟛

It was an accident. 

Honestly, it was an accident. 

A very, very, very happy accident from his perspective, but an accident nonetheless. 

At least that’s what Kiba told himself, although it didn’t help the guilt that twisted in his stomach as he watched your face contort in pleasure as it had just a few days prior. 

Kiba had set up a hidden camera in the shared bedroom of your apartment with the purest intentions. Initially, the idea was to capture your real, organic reaction to the present he had planned to give you, a beautiful necklace he knew you’d love. You had been searching every shop you passed for something of the sort, but much to your displeasure, every piece you came across fell short of your expectations. Luckily, Kiba had stopped into a shop on the way home from his most recent mission on a whim, not expecting to find exactly what you’d described. He didn’t bother to check the price, he knew he had to have it for you.

With such an extravagant gift, Kiba decided to wait for the perfect moment to give it to you. He sat on the edge of your bed, a small, neat box holding the necklace clutched gently in his palm as he waited for your arrival. Unfortunately, you were having a particularly bad day and all you wanted was to blow off some steam when you got home. Angrily, you stomped into the room, throwing your jacket to the floor, not bothering with pleasantries before telling him to strip.

Kiba was conflicted, determined not to ruin the surprise but also painfully aware of the camera positioned with a perfect view of the events that were about to occur. He couldn’t deny the growing tightness of his pants as he thought about it, your impatient voice quickly pulling him from his thoughts as you tugged at the button of his jeans, shirt already discarded into the growing pile of clothing on the floor. 

Against his better judgment, he pushed the dilemma out of his mind, carefully slipping the necklace into the drawer of the bedside table before ravishing your body with an animalistic vigor. 

Far too soon, you’d gone on a trip with some of the other girls of Konoha, taking a couple of nights away at the hot springs, leaving Kiba alone back at your apartment. The camera had plagued him for days, it seemed like every chance he had to get rid of the video he’d taken, you’d show up just before he got the opportunity. Rummaging around in the drawer he had hidden it in, he was soon pulled from the task once again by Naruto, instead attending a gathering the boys of Konoha were hosting for the evening. 

The next day, Kiba was quick to grab the camera, settling back down into the bed with the full intention of deleting the video right away. He was quick to succumb to his weakness as he turned on the device, catching a glimpse of your goddess-like frame draped over him in the preview image. Kiba just missed you so much, it would be a shame for such a lovely memory to go completely to waste, the way his cock began to harden at the simple sight doing nothing to deter his actions. Slipping his thick cock out of his pants, he pressed play on the video, beginning to stroke himself teasingly as the video replayed, soon finding himself overwhelmed with the depraved pleasure it brought. 

You loved spending time with your friends, but more time spent away from your lover only put a damper on your mood. Deciding to return home a day early, you slipped into the building quietly, expecting to come home to your sleeping boyfriend. Instead, you were met with his soft groans and sighs, the sounds igniting an excitement within you. As you crept down the hallway, your excitement was quick to turn into burning anger. Paired with his own, higher-pitched, loud moans filled the room, the sounds of another person. 

“Who the fuck are you-” Your expression switched from that of seething rage to total bewilderment, Kiba’s guilty appearance only furthering your confusion. 

“O-oh, Y/N! What are you doing home so, um, so early?” He stuttered, scrambling to turn the device off before tucking his still-aching cock back into his pants, unknowing that his large fingers had failed to press the correct small button.

“Why are you watching porn on a camera?” You questioned, eyebrows furrowed, closing the distance between you two to snatch the camera from him. At this point, you weren’t sure what to expect, but nothing could’ve prepared you to see your own fucked-out expression on the screen.

Kiba’s stomach churned as you pulled the camera from his grasp, throat drying out as his mouth hung open, wishing he had any explanation for what you were about to see. Mentally, he cursed himself for not deleting it sooner, for letting himself indulge in the temptation when he knew it was wrong, to begin with. Simultaneously, Kiba felt he couldn’t ever look you in the eye again but couldn’t avert his gaze as he watched your face twist with anger. 

“Y/N, I-I can explain, I swear!” He pleaded as he reached for the camera. Wordlessly, you sharply moved the camera just out of his grasp, fixated on the scene unfolding in front of you. You were angry, exasperated even, but seeing the wonderful way you pleasured each other from the outside had you absolutely entranced. Your jaw clenched as the heat in your core grew, you needed both an explanation of how this video came to exist and for Kiba to be buried inside you the same way he was just days ago. It only took a few mere moments for one need to grow much stronger, your clit beginning to ache as you watched yourself cum around his cock, practically feeling the waves of bliss travel throughout your body again. 

“Come on, talk to me!” Kiba succeeded in taking the camera from you, placing it on the bedside table before turning back to you, unable to read the expression you wore. “Please? It was an accident, I swear! You’ll understand once I explain, I pro-” 

Raising an eyebrow, you looked him up and down as he spoke, lust-filled eyes glaring daggers into his own. “Shut up and fuck me.” You demanded, taking a step towards him. 

“Wha- what are you getting at?” Kiba’s flushed face stared back at you in utter confusion. 

Forcefully, you shoved him back onto the bed, pulling off your shirt before crawling onto the mattress to straddle him. 

“You’re gonna make me ask twice, huh?” You spat, voice laced deliciously with venom. You leaned over him, lips lingering beside his ear as you spoke slowly. “I said shut up and fuck me.” 

Confusion swirled inside Kiba, but he certainly wasn’t in the position to make you ask again. 

“You’re really sexy when you’re angry, you know that?” He said, shocked but thrilled at the events that were about to unfold. 

Swiftly, he flipped you onto your back, pressing a line of wet, opened-mouth kisses down your jaw as he fumbled with the button of your pants. He made his way down to your chest, taking your nipple into his mouth and swirling his tongue around the sensitive nub, reaching a hand up to give your other breast a squeeze. 

You sighed, closing your eyes as you relaxed back into the mattress, the intensity of the situation making the lightest of touches all the more pleasurable. You found yourself mindlessly gently grinding your hips upwards against his body, already growing impatient that his attention wasn’t where you needed him most. 

“Don’t tease.” You said sternly, met with an unusual obedience from him as he switched to your other nipple, his fingers gently running down your sides as his tongue flicked against your skin. 

He pulled away only for a moment, his fingers slipping underneath the waist of your pants, tugging them down your legs along with your panties and discarding them onto the floor. 

Kiba pressed a couple kisses down your stomach and across your inner thighs, sharp teeth grazing across your soft skin to leave a trail of harsh marks.

Finally, he began to pay attention to your soaked pussy, simply feeling his hot breath against your exposed skin heightening your excitement. His fingers gripped your thighs tightly as he leaned in, licking a teasing stripe from your hole to your clit, sending a shiver down your spine. 

The complaints about to come out of you were quickly replaced by loud moans as Kiba decided he’d teased enough, beginning to lap at your cunt at a feverish pace. 

Whenever Kiba was between your legs like this, you knew you were in for it. His lips latched onto your clit, his tongue swirling deliciously around it as your fingers tangled in his hair, your thighs already shaking with the rapidly-building pleasure he brought you. 

Everything about this made every nerve of your body ignite with heat. The way he touched you, the way he knew exactly what you needed, the desperate noises he made even when he was touching you, all of it overwhelmed you every time. 

It wasn’t long until he brought you so close to the edge, but held you there, wanting to hear you beg for the release you craved so badly. 

“S-so close.” You whined between moans, bucking your hips up against him, desperate for just a little more to send you over that edge and into ecstasy. “More, p-please, fuck, m’so close Kiba.” 

Smiling to himself, he happily obliged, quickening his pace just enough to give you what you wanted.

You came with a cry of his name, your limp body trembling as his strong hands held your thighs apart, his pace not letting up until you practically pulled him away from your core.

“You taste so good, pretty girl.” He cooed, his hungry eyes taking in the sight of your naked body against the sheets as he tugged off his own pants and underwear. 

Fuck, you looked so good. 

Unfortunately for him, your anger had hardly subsided. 

“You’re gonna have to do better than that if you want me to forgive you.” You teased, peering up at him through your eyelashes. 

Lucky for you, it wasn’t in Kiba’s nature to shy away from a challenge. 

He was back on you in an instant, catching your lips in a passionate kiss as his hands explored every inch of you, one settling around your waist to pull your body as close as you could possibly get while the other tangled in your hair. 

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, your hips grinding up against his, the tip of his leaking cock catching your clit just right each time, sending a shock of pleasure through you both each time. 

“I need you.” You said breathlessly as he allowed you to push him onto his back, his strong grip on your waist pulling you along with him. 

You lined him up with your entrance, a devilish grin on your face as you sunk down on his cock only partway before moving back up again, repeating this a couple times as you leaned down to kiss him again.

“Fuck baby, you always feel so good.” He groaned, throwing his head back, barely resisting the urge to fuck himself up into you. “Need to feel that pretty pussy around me already.” 

If you weren’t already feeling just as desperate as he was, you might’ve come back with something clever, but the need within you to feel him deep inside you overrode whatever spite you were feeling.

Gradually, you began to sink down further until your skin hit his, soon falling into a steady rhythm as you chased your second high. 

Kiba couldn’t keep his eyes off your face as you gasped and moaned. The video had been a nice reminder of the faces and sounds you made, but it couldn’t compare to the real thing. Reaching between your bodies, he began to rub soft circles around your clit, his other hand on your hip to steady you. 

“You look so beautiful like this.” He groaned, unable to stop himself from bucking his hips up into you, matching the pace you’d set.

Each deep thrust sent electricity throughout your body, the way his tip brushed against all the right places deep within you paired with his skilled hands working your clit threatened to have you falling apart on his cock at any moment. 

Kiba felt this too, absolutely entranced by the sight of you and the sounds you made, his mind couldn’t help but wander back to that accidental video, wondering what kind of show you would put on if you two decided to create a sexy film for real.

His hips snapped against yours harder, faster, a satisfied grin on his face as he felt you tighten around him, the gasps and moans of his name falling from your lips sounding even better than they had before. 

Fuck, he was lucky you were his girl.

Your thighs began to tremble as he pushed himself up into you, intense shock-waves of pleasure running throughout every nerve, your high approaching quickly and intensely with every touch. 

Only moments later, you came with a loud cry of his name, his peak following shortly after, his pelvis flush with yours as he released inside you, his own whines reverberating throughout the room.

Your limp body collapsed against his, your arms wrapping around his shoulders as you both caught your breath. 

Anxiously, Kiba cleared his throat, shooting you a nervous smile. 

“So, um, how was your trip?”

“We’ll talk about that later.” You said, sitting up and raising your eyebrows. “You still have a lot of explaining to do.

#maddie writes: after hours #Kiba Inuzuka #kiba naruto #kiba x reader #kiba inuzuka x reader #inuzuka kiba x reader #inuzuka kiba #kiba x you #kiba inuzuka x you #inuzuka kiba x you #kiba smut #kiba inuzuka smut #inuzuka kiba smut #kiba imagines #kiba inuzuka imagines #inuzuka kiba imagines #naruto imagines #naruto smut #kiba x y/n #kiba inuzuka x y/n #inuzuka kiba x y/n

[namelessuchiha]

Prompt 23 for kiba!

Prompt 23 - "I never imagined you to be so sensitive, but I love it."

Kiba Inuzuka x Reader

Word count: 749

warning: **NSFW: 18+, minors dni

Kiba Inuzuka was everything you were not, everything you hated. He was loud, brash, and cocky. You were quiet, hardheaded, and robust, a formidable shinobi not to be trifled with. But as time went on, these traits which you despised became blurred in a cloud of lust. Maybe the hatred made you all the more attracted to him. 

It was embarrassing really when you fell into bed with him for the first time. It was one night after you had returned from a weeks-long mission. Something that should have been simple but ended up dragging on longer than needed. You were full of pent-up frustration at your assigned teammates from the mission and your failure to just complete the mission sooner on your own. You were walking home from the grocery store, intending to replenish your fridge full of rotten foods. You heard him before you saw him, you always did. He was just so loud. 

You knew what you were going to do right there and then. As soon as your paths crossed you bluntly invited him over and lead him home. Groceries were forgotten, and hate sex was more important. Even if it was one-sided. Kiba had never had ill feelings towards you, you were quiet to him and had saved him countless times on past missions. You were a comrade, one that was seen as untouchable by those around you. And here you were, inviting him for an unsavory night. This was the last thing that Kiba had expected in a million years, if ever. 

“Gods Kiba, please just touch me.” You whined, withering underneath him. Your clothes were long gone, littered throughout your apartment. Kiba’s state told a similar story, only adorned in his boxers. 

He smirked from above you, hooking his fingers in your panties and roughly dragging them down your legs. He leaned down and left hot, wet kisses on the inside of your knees and lower thighs, teasingly. One of his hands propped him up by your shoulder while the other palmed at your upper thigh. “I could get used to you saying my name like that.”

You whined, rocking your hips back and forth, wordlessly begging for his touch. A gasp left your lips as his hand began inching towards your core. When one of his long and dexterous fingers finally met your slit, your head was thrown back into the bed as you let out an embarrassing amount of moans. It had been so long since anyone had touched you. Hell, it had been weeks since you had even done it yourself. You were just incredibly sensitive, and Kiba was taking note of this. 

He dragged his index and middle finger along your slit, coating them in wetness, before slowly rubbing circles on your clit. At the contact, your hands grabbed the sheets at a force that made your knuckles turn white. “Yes, Kiba- Mmm. Press down harder-” You were cut off to moan his name loudly as he complied with your pleas. 

The Inuzuka man leaned down with his signature smirk plastered on his face. His tongue dragged up the side of your neck, searching for your sweet spot. Once he found it through your verbal response, he dragged his sharp teeth over it and bit down lightly. Your hands flew to his hair as you moaned so loudly, that it was embarrassing. Kiba was in awe. His comrade and frequent teammate on missions, the silent girl he knew, was loud and withering underneath him. 

He released the skin from between his teeth and brought his mouth up to your ear, breathing hotly for a moment before speaking. “You know,” He quickened the pace of his fingers on your clit, sensing you were approaching your first release of the night as you whimpered more frequently. “I never imagined you to be so sensitive, but I love it.”

“Kiba!” Your head flew back once again into the sheets, toes curling as your hands bunched his hair so hard it was almost painful. To Kiba it was worth it, to watch you break underneath him and look so beautiful while reaching your peak.

As you caught your breath moments later, you opened your eyes to see the brown-haired boy smirking above you. You puffed your cheeks out, cheeks turning red in embarrassment from your post-orgasm clarity.

“Cocky bastard.” You huffed. Kiba threw his head back in laughter before rolling you over on top of him to continue your long night together. 

#kiba inuzuka #kiba inuzuka x reader #inuzuka clan #inuzuka #naruto prompts #naruto fic #kiba inuzuka smut #naruto smut #naruto fanfiction #naruto imagines #kiba imagine #kiba inuzuka imagine