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traveler-at-heart · 10 months

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What we were - Chapter 3

Chapter 1, Chapter 2

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!R

CW: Character death, cheating.

Not sure if ya’ll gonna like where this is going but... this is my design.

Over the course of three weeks, you received yellow tulips, chocolate and danish scones from your favorite bakery.

Each item always included a hand-written note from Natasha wishing you a good day or with a poem you loved. You gave your thanks via text, but that was about it from your side.

Natasha also made it a point to drive and pick up Anya at least three times a week. On Fridays, they had dinner together and brought extra for you and Bucky.

A peace offering that he didn’t give a damn about. Still, it was fun for you to watch them interact with phony smiles, wondering who would break first.

As August ended, Anya’s school sent out their usual PTA meeting invite. You RSVPd, not really expecting Natasha to be there.

“Let me drive you” Bucky says as you look at yourself in the mirror. For the first time in months, you’re about to leave the house to interact with grown ups that won’t look at you with pity or sadness.

“And leave Anya alone? I don’t think so”

“It looks like it will rain, and you absolutely can’t drive at night with rain”

“Are you calling me old? You, the centennial man?” you pinch him, reaching for the wrong arm. “Ouch”

“Clearly, this interaction has shown that I’m more mature than both of you,” Anya proclaims, doing her homework in the living room. “It’s a short drive and you know uncle Bucky is right, Mom”

“Ugh, fine. But call us if you need anything, please?” you kiss her forehead and in spite of yourself, wear your reading glasses.

“Yeah, yeah”

“Be back in a second, kid” Bucky says, ruffling her red hair.

“With Chinese”

“Fine”

“She’s so bossy” you comment, buckling up. He chuckles.

“Wonder where she got that from”

“Hey!” you slap his arm, thankful that it wasn’t the metal one this time. “I know you’re just driving me because you want to see Miss Day”

“Anya’s teacher? Nah” his blush gives it away.

“Busted”

You have to hold back a laugh when, out of all people, Miss Day is the one greeting everyone at the door.

“Sergeant Barnes” she greets a little too eagerly. “Will you be joining Mrs. Romanoff tonight?”

“Just dropping her off” he stumbles with his words.

“He’s such a gentleman, don’t you think?” you say, nudging him. “Any girl would be lucky to have him”

“Well, Anya speaks wonders of you. And you’re welcome to stay, we will just be a little crowded in the classroom, considering the other Mrs. Romanoff is already here”

“Oh. Right”

“That’s my cue. Call me later” he mumbles, annoyed at the idea of Natasha arriving earlier than you two.

“Of course!” Miss Day is quick to answer, but blushes a second later. “Oh, right, you meant… her. Ha-ha, silly me”

You’ll never, ever, let him forget this.

As you walk into the classroom, still smiling, your eyes meet Natasha’s. She waves at you awkwardly.

“Saved you a seat” she points at the chair next to hers and you nod.

“Thank you”

Miss Day goes over the upcoming fairs, projects and field trips. The curriculum goes next and by the time she finishes with the Q&A session, it’s been an hour.

The last part consists of parents meeting privately with Miss Day to review grades and conduct. It’s in alphabetical order so you’re one of the last.

“I forgot how long these things are” you sit next to Natasha in one of the hallway benches. You lean back, sighing.

“Want some chocolate?”

“Mmm, yes. I’m starving” you take the snack and practically moan at the first bite. “Sorry” you mumble when Natasha blushes.

“I like it when you wear glasses,” she says, looking at her feet.

It’s your turn to blush.

“Thank you”

“Mrs. and Mrs. Romanoff?” Miss Day calls for you.

“Us? So soon?” you look at Natasha and she shrugs her shoulders.

“Oh, yeah, we’re not doing the alphabetical thing anymore. We go over top performers first. Please sit. Anya is doing great. As you know, she’s already fluent in four languages…”

“Five” Natasha corrects and you go over the list in your head. Oh yeah, German.

“Right, five. Sorry” Miss Day looks flustered, and you remember that most of Anya’s teachers have always been particularly afraid of your wife.

“I forgot as well. It’s hard to keep up with Anya sometimes” you intervene, kicking Nat’s leg softly.

Be nice.

The Russian smiles, trying to look friendly.

“She’s leaning towards Humanities a little bit more than last year. As you remember, she won first place at the Interstate Science Fair. And her grades are still great in all subjects, but she has been reading a lot more. And taken some interest in learning to play the piano”

“My dad made me take lessons when I was her age. I may have mentioned it once or twice. Though none of us really know how to play any instruments, right, darling?” you say, distractedly.

“R-right” Natasha’s eyes widen at the pet name. “Yelena, her aunt, she plays the guitar”

“Oh, yeah” you nod, still unaware of your slip up. “Well, I’ll ask her if she wants to take some private lessons. I’m too rusty to teach her anything”

“Other than that, she’s doing great. She’s a great kid, sweet and very kind to her peers… as for faculty members…”

“What?” you're shocked to think that anyone would complain about your daughter.

“Well, kids like Anya…”

“Like what?” Natasha practically barks at the teacher and she jumps in her seat.

“I mean super smart. They tend to have an issue with authority and question everything. There’s also that thing where she’s very good at sneaking around”

“We’ll talk to her” you promise, but you’re uncertain about how the conversation will go.

After all, you married her other mother while you two were running away from the American government. And the Avengers were famous for breaking rules regularly.

The team had a whole Wikipedia page on broken laws, including sections by country and international organizations.

“In that case, class dismissed” the woman seems relieved when you say goodbye.

You walk next to Natasha, caught up in your thoughts. She keeps you from walking into the rain by pulling you next to her.

“Huh?” you look back, your face inches away from hers.

“It’s raining” she explains.

“Oh”

“Do you want my jacket? Where did you park?”

“Buck drove me here. I’ll get a cab”

“Let me” she offers, her green eyes pleading.

“Could we… get something to eat first? I’m very hungry and not in the mood for chinese”

“Yes, anything you want”

There’s an awkward moment as she walks you to the passenger door and you both reach for the handle.

“Sorry, yeah…” you let her pull and then you slip inside, trying to control your breathing.

“What are you in the mood for?” she says, driving out of the school’s parking lot.

“Grilled cheese” you say and she chuckles.

“From Al’s?”

“Where else, Nat?”

“Coming right up”

“You really were hungry” Natasha smiles as you steal another one of her fries.

“Maria had me on back to back meetings. And then I went to swim for a whole hour. So this is just me rewarding myself for being such a responsible adult”

“How’s the leg?”

“The same”

“My offer still stands,” she reminds you. Her phone rings and you’re saved the trouble of refusing said offer for the second time. “Will you excuse me?”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll finish your fries for you”

Natasha rolls her eyes, but pushes the plate towards you.

The evening has been surprisingly pleasant. But a minute later, she hurriedly hangs up and walks back to you.

“Everything ok?”

“Yeah” she lies.

In the past, maybe because you loved her, you let those small lies fly. But not pushing enough was part of what brought you here.

“Tasha? I’d like to know”

You lock eyes and you hold your breath as Natasha studies your expression.

“Ok” she nods. You give her a moment to gather her thoughts. “I’ve been researching… that mission. Trying to find whoever is responsible for Clint’s…”

She bites her lip, looking down. On instinct, you reach out across the table to squeeze her hand. Natasha holds on tight, running her thumb across your skin.

“I think I’ve found them. Kate was tracking her mother after she escaped prison. Seems like Eleanor Bishop is now working with international terrorists”

“They weren’t prepared for that, then? Kate and Clint thought it would be something…”

“Easier”

You nod.

“So, what’s wrong?”

“It’s not gonna be easy to get to them. It’s a matter of international security and every government wants in on the mission. I was hoping I could call a few favors…”

“So, you’re not gonna go rogue and beat them on your own?” you arch an eyebrow, impressed with her self control.

Honestly, you expected Natasha to fly and kill them as soon as she got the intel.

“I wouldn’t be a very good mother if I was stuck at the Raft. Or running away like we used to”

“I’ll travel to D.C.” you offer and her eyes widen. “I can pull some strings. As much as I hate it, my father’s name still holds some weight there”

“Would you do that? I know how much you hate going back there”

All the politics and the lies, the power these people craved and hoarded… yes, it made you sick. But if you could help Natasha, you’d take it.

“It will be fine”

“This means the world to me, Y/N”

“I know, Nat. Which is why you’ll get me ice cream for dessert”

“Deal” she lets go of your hand to call the waitress and you smile.

You also wish she hadn't let go.

Packing for one was easier than you remembered. It was only a two day trip, anyway.

Natasha insisted on driving you to the airport and Anya wanted to tag along. It was as good a time as any to remind them of the rules of the house.

“Pop quiz, everyone” you announce.

Anya and Natasha groan at the same time.

“Do we really have to?” your daughter complains.

“How many times a day do you have to water my plants, Natasha?”

“Uh… five?”

“Once! Just once, tomorrow” Anya laughs at her mother and you turn to point at her. “Ok, plants are your responsibility now, missy”

“Aw, Ma!”

“No Nerf guns inside the house” you keep listing the rules with your fingers.

“Hey, that’s no fun!” Natasha complains and you ignore her.

“No horror movies, if you order pizza it should have at least two different vegetables and last but not least, I do not want to come back home and see that you acquired any sort of animal as a pet”

“So if a puppy shows up at our door and it’s raining, we’re supposed to leave them outside?” Anya peaks from the backseat.

“No, you drive them to uncle Buck’s and force him to take care of them”

“Alright, we get it. We’ll behave, right, kiddo?” Natasha promises, winking at Anya.

Saying goodbye it’s harder than you imagined. Anya doesn’t know why you’re going to D.C., but she understands you wouldn’t leave if it wasn’t important.

“Y/N, it’s a two day trip” Natasha complains, carrying your heavy suitcase. “Bucky had no issue getting it down the stairs”

“That’s low, even for you, Ma” Anya says, but still laughs.

“I know, I’m sorry” you take the suitcase from Nat.

“You are not,” she chuckles.

“Tiny, tiny bit” you put your thumb and pointer finger close together. Anya hugs your side and you turn to her. “Take care of Mom, please. I’ll be back the day after tomorrow”

“We’ll be ok, I promise”

“I love you” you say against her hair. She hugs you tight.

“We love you too” Anya says and you smile.

“Have a nice trip” Natasha approaches nervously, her hands on the pockets of her jeans.

“Thank you”

Before you have time to process what’s happening, she leans forward and places a kiss on your forehead.

It’s all you can think about on the flight to D.C.

Secretary of State Leah Renfield sends a driver to pick you up from the airport. She accepted your request to meet immediately, which can only mean one thing: whatever you’re gonna ask of her, she already knows how you’ll pay it back.

“Agent Romanoff” she greets you, walking away from her huge mahogany desk. She’s tall and her blonde hair has some white on the front.

“Madame Secretary, it’s good to see you again” you take the hand she offers and follow her to a small futon next to a giant window.

“I must say, I love that you took your wife’s last name. Natasha Romanoff is a KGB double agent and you’d rather be associated with her than with Thaddeuss Ross”

“Well, it’s hard to be on good terms with a parent that turns you into an outlaw”

“In the end, the Avengers did more for the world than he did” she concedes. It’s no secret that she never liked your father, but you share the sentiment wholeheartedly. “So, I am very happy to welcome you whenever you want. I know that you’re still working in intelligence and SHIELD ops”

“Right” you sit straight and look her in the eye. “The thing is… as you know, Agent Barton was killed seven months ago”

“A tragedy”

“We’ve gathered evidence and it all points to an international terrorist organization called Helios. They’ve been collaborating with some lower rank Hydra officials. It’s all here” you hand over the information that Natasha has collected, about members, attacks and possible targets.

“This is an issue of international security, then” she declares, after browsing through the files. “But what’s the point of bringing it to me?”

“We want to be the ones on a mission to tear it down and arrest those responsible for killing Agent Barton”

“We, as in, the Avengers”

“Yes”

Renfield sighs, and stands up to walk around the room. She pauses near the alcohol cabinet. It’s too early for a glass of bourbon.

“The world isn’t what it used to be when you were a team, Agent. Frankly, I don’t know how you all got away with so much contempt for the law”

“Well, we saved the universe once or twice. Remember Thanos?”

The woman sighs and nods. Yes, she does. Her daughter and husband were blipped, after all. She has her family back because of you.

“I’m here because we want to do things right. Without causing you too much trouble, as I understand you might run for president next year…”

Renfield laughs and looks at you.

“I always thought you’d do great in politics”

“I’m not sure if that’s a compliment, Madam Secretary”

“Me neither”

There’s a knock at the door; her Chief of Staff reminds her she has to run to another meeting.

“Walk with me” she asks, taking the file and handing it over to her assistant. “When are you going back to New York?”

“Friday morning”

“I’ll try to have an answer by then”

“Thank you”

“Let’s meet before you go back. And give my best to your wife”

“Will do”

“I don’t want her greetings, I want her to okay the mission. In fact, I want her to authorize a nuclear warhead straight to these terrorists’ asses” Natasha rants.

You finally made it to the hotel and have a few hours before you meet with a friend from Law School.

“Jeez, Nat. Let’s just wait for her answer”

Natasha insisted on a video call the minute you checked in.

“Fine. You’re good at reading people. What do you think she’ll say?”

“My guess?” you sigh. “They’ve known about Helios for a while. Their operation is very similar to Hydra. We were the only ones who could deal with Hydra. And now, we’re offering to do the work for the CIA, MI6 and Interpol”

“So they’ll say yes”

“But since we came asking for the favor first… I don’t know. Maybe Renfield will want some type of endorsement for her campaign. I can do that”

“I didn’t mean to put you in this position. I’m sorry”

“I offered. And it will be worth it if we can put Clint’s killers behind bars”

“Yeah…”

“Natasha, you can’t kill them”

“It could be an accident, detka”

“Stop, I’d like to know as little as possible in case this goes to trial”

“Fair enough” she chuckles. “By the way, can I use your computer? I need to check my email and my phone is being stupid”

“Sure, the password is our anniversary”

“Oh, ok”

“Right… It’s almost time for you to pick up Anya. And I want to take a bath and sleep a little. Tell her I love her and that I’ll call her later, please?”

“Yeah, for sure”

“Thanks, Tasha”

Walking away from your phone, you begin to get rid of your shirt and the black skirt falls to the ground. The bathtub is almost full so you go back to the bedroom in nothing but your underwear.

“Shit”

Natasha is still on the call, mouth wide open.

“I’m sorry, I thought you hung up”

“I thought you did” you mutter from the floor, hiding from the camera. “Byeee”

Damn it.

Natasha can almost remember what life was like before she lost her best friend.

The domesticity of picking up Anya, making sure she does her homework while dinner is ready. You’re the only piece of the puzzle that’s missing.

She desperately wants to make it all better. Fix all the mistakes she made, take back the hurtful words she threw at you when she was so angry at the world.

“Dinner’s gonna be ready in five” the redhead tells her daughter.

“Can we eat in the living room while watching Project Runway?”

“Yes, but don’t tell your mother”

“Mmkay”

Just then, she remembers the email that Maria sent and she was supposed to review. She goes to your study. Nothing’s really changed in the room. Every wall is covered with books and your desk is full of pictures of your family.

Even the ones from your wedding.

Natasha runs her hand through one of the pictures. She’s looking at the camera and you’re looking at her, with complete love and adoration.

How could she be so blind to throw it all away?

As she logs in, there’s a notification from your calendar.

Dinner with Cynthia Florrick - Finestra

She tries really hard to not think about it, but that name rings a bell.

Oh, right. The divorce lawyer that Pepper threatened to hire if Tony didn’t retire.

You’re meeting with a divorce lawyer in D.C.

Natasha lost you.

“Hi, I have a reservation under Florrick” you greet the hostess. It’s an expensive Italian restaurant full of big suits and elegant women.

Another thing you don’t miss about D.C.; their fixation on fancy clothes.

“Oh my God, it’s been ages!” your friend shouts. Her loud voice and manners are a little out of place among the clientele.

“Hi, Cyn” you hug her and take a seat. “Well, you won’t visit me in New York so I had to come to you”

“Oh, that’s soon about to change” she smirks. You don’t have a chance to ask why, as an older man walks behind you and she waves. “Cliff, so good to see you”

He gives her the side eye and walks away.

“He doesn’t look happy to see you”

“Oh, he’s just mad because I got his wife the lake house in the settlement. And anyway, as I was saying, I’m opening an office in New York and another one in San Diego”

“Congrats!”

“Yeah, baby. Call me the Tony Stark of family law”

“Well, I’ll be happy to introduce you to some people. You wouldn’t believe the divorce rate among spies”

“Not you and Natasha, right?”

“Oh, no! We’re doing great” you lie.

“Well, good to hear” Cynthia raises her glass of wine. “Let’s chat, gossip about everyone from college and celebrate that we’re both great”

It’s impossible to nap as you wait for the plane to land.

On Thursday, Secretary Renfield invited you to a luncheon with some of the biggest names in national security.

The attendees were drawn to you. After all, the Avengers had been successful where most intelligence agencies failed.

Before you left, she stood aside to brief you on her decision.

“The answer is yes. But with one condition. You lead the mission. Do you agree?”

“Yes”

“And you were right, I am aiming for the White House next year. If you feel inclined to show your support when that happens, I’ll be very grateful”

“Madam Secretary, you have my vote and my endorsement”

You can’t wait to tell Natasha the news.

Maybe, just maybe, your lives can go back to normal.

Bucky and Anya are the ones waiting for you at the terminal.

“Is… everything ok?”

“Yeah, I was just stealing this one for a baseball game” Bucky points at your daughter. “So you have a chance to catch up and get some rest”

“Well, it’s good to see you both” you smile, uncertain. Anya hugs you and she doesn’t seem too concerned, so you figure Bucky is telling the truth.

On the drive back home, you catch your daughter yawning a couple of times.

“You so went past your bedtime”

“Nuh-uh” she denies it.

“Yuh-uh”

“Real mature” Bucky mutters and you hit him.

“I leave for a day and everyone goes rogue”

“Good thing you’re back, then”

When you finally get home, Bucky helps you with the suitcase while Anya waits in the car.

“Ok, as your friend, I’m warning you that Natasha asked me to take Anya so she could talk to you”

“James!” you say, punching him again. “Why didn’t you say something? Did she look happy? Worried? What were her exact words?”

“I don’t know, just go talk to her. The game is about to start. Good luck”

He sprints down the stairs and you are left to drag your heavy suitcase across the hallway.

“Nat? Natasha?”

You walk to your office, where she’s sitting, looking at your wedding pictures.

“Hi there”

“Hello” she greets, her voice low. She looks defeated.

Your heart pounds in your ears.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t need you to do me any favors out of pity or whatever it is you feel for me. I thought I had a chance, and all this time you were thinking about a divorce. I’m an idiot” she chuckles, but it comes out as a sob.

“Am I in an alternate universe where I mentioned the word divorce? Because I’ve never brought it up”

“You met with a lawyer”

“Cynthia? You were spying on me?”

“The notification popped up on your computer when I was checking my emails”

“And instead of asking me, you go around making up scenarios. Just like you did last time, assuming I’d jump to bed with James. I get it, Natasha. You want to think the worst of me, that’s fucking fine. Let me know what other evil shit I’ll do next. Turn our daughter against you, maybe? Which would be really funny, considering I’ve made it a point to not tell her why you moved out of the house”

You look out the window, turning your back to her.

“You’re the only person that made me feel safe and happy and loved. All I ever wanted was to do the same for you. Even after everything, if you asked me to, I’d take you back in a heartbeat. I was so hurt because you kept pushing me away while you were sharing yourself with someone else. I thought you finally realized I couldn’t make you happy. And I love you and want to set you free, but I’m also too scared to let you go. So, sorry to disappoint you but if you want to move on, you’re gonna have to ask me for the divorce”

She’s silent as you pause to wipe your tears.

“So, are you gonna leave or what?” you bark out, impatient.

Natasha doesn’t move.

“Fine, I’ll go” you turn around, walking to the door. You’ll find a place to mourn, because this feels like the end, and you can’t take it. Natasha’s touch brings you back to earth. “What are you doing?”

“I-”

“Let me go” you plead, not turning around. She pulls you closer, spinning you until you face her.

“I’d be an idiot to let you go”

A sob escapes and she silences it with her mouth, pressing her lips against yours in a searing kiss.

It’s everything you need, to feel complete again. Natasha’s touch is your sanctuary and you welcome its warmth. Her arms slide down your waist and you keep her close as she begins to undo the buttons of your pants. You break apart for a moment to take your shirt off, asking her to do the same with a tug.

“Let me take care of you” she pleads, going down and leaving a trail of kisses across your exposed skin. Your knees buckle when she reaches your underwear. “It’s ok, I got you”

Trusting, you allow her to lap at your folds, but the pressure is too much so you begin to lower yourself to the floor. Natasha makes sure that you’re comfortable and then resumes her ministrations, soft and deep.

It’s not possessive, but very intense. She’s soft and considerate, taking her time to build up the pleasure, until you’re on the brink of orgasm, holding her face close to your center until you ride every wave.

“Was that ok?” she hovers over you and you taste yourself in her lips.

“Yes. But I need more”

“How much more?”

“A lot more”

Three hours later and you’re in bed, clothes scattered across the floor.

Well, Natasha’s clothes. Yours are still at your office.

“Was it good?” Natasha whispers and you make a face. “What?”

“You’ve never asked me that before. And now, this is the second time you do it”

“I just want to make sure you liked it”

“I did. Very much liked it. In fact, like might be a bit of an understatement”

“Ok, good” she turns to her side and you do the same, your faces an inch away from each other. “So, what do we do now?”

“Well… we have a mission to complete. Then we can worry about the rest”

“Renfield said yes?” she asks, shocked. You nod.

“On the condition that I lead the mission. And I think we should tell the team, Nat. They deserve to know”

Natasha sighs, sitting up.

“Maybe we should just let someone else handle this”

“It’s not like us to let the bad guys get away with it” you kiss her shoulder, resting your chin against her arm. “What’s wrong?”

“I just got you back. What if something happens?”

“Everything will be alright. We do this together”

“Together” she promises, her forehead resting against yours.

Taglist: @wandabear, @thatonebrazilian, @canvascoloredin, @ctrlamira, @dvrkhcld, @username23345, @unexpected-character, @how-to-disappearrr, @casquinhaa, @cd-4848

#Natasha Romanoff x Reader #Natasha Romanoff x y/n #Natasha Romanoff x you

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delirious-donna · 3 months

Text

Who? [Kiba Inuzuka]

an: this is a repost of an old story I wrote for @tired-biscuit who we all know is the biggest kiba girlie on the planet. I've reworked it and added an extra 2k (sorry not sorry). Hopefully, it gets a few reads.

pairing: Kiba Inuzuka x female reader

warnings: NSFW, modern AU, friends to lovers trope, characters in late 20s, angst, toxic males (sorry Asuma, Obito, Itachi and Hidan simps!), pussy eating, blowjob after sex, unprotected sex, cum swallowing, biting and marking.

Masterlist

He eyed you with the utmost disdain.

Glowing amber eyes raked from the toes of your scuffed Converse to the brim of the baseball hat that peeked from under your hoodie. A sleek dark eyebrow rose, stern in admonishment of your haggard appearance and you could scream at him for it.

You knew you looked god awful—felt it too—but did he need to sneer quite so fucking openly? Even from the door of the coffee shop, you knew he was going to give you absolute hell, motherfucker couldn't help himself at the best of times. Some best friend he was.

Kiba Inuzuka appeared his usual well-put-together self, the epitome of the aloof bad boy that most girls had that annoying phase of wanting more than reason should allow. Sickening really, but you loved him regardless. Platonically, of course… of course.

He sat with arms crossed at your favoured table in the back corner, his arms tightly crossed over his wide chest and forcing the cotton of the black tee he wore to work to its limit to contain the muscles beneath. You spied his foot stretched out as he practically manspread in his chair, and the ominous tap of his heavy biker boot sounded like the tolls of a church bell as you walked toward him and your doom.

The strands of his chestnut brown hair were tousled in a sexy 'I just got fucked' style that was meant to look like he had rolled right out of whatever bed he had spent the previous night in. However, you knew the truth of it. That particular look took him a straight forty-five minutes to perfect each morning, and you were tempted to ruffle your hand through it just to piss him off more but you didn’t have a death wish–not today.

You always gave him shit for how long it took him to get ready in the mornings, many a time in your college years you had screeched about him being worse than the girls, and you were not wrong. If any of his floozies were to find out about his skincare regime their little airhead brains would likely implode from shock. Perhaps you should never have taught him that he needed to use more than bar soap on his face each morning, for the man owned more luxury beauty products than you did now.

"You look like shit," he offered with a shit-eating grin on his annoyingly handsome and punchable face.

The onset of summer highlighted the fresh dusting of freckles on his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, and his usual sun-kissed skin darkened further from the abundance of scorching sunlight. Kiba was a true summer child, not something you shared with him as you opted to hide from the dangerous rays of the sun until the weather cooled into a more agreeable autumn temperature.

"Well, fuck you too, dickhead!"

You threw yourself haphazardly into the opposite chair, face screwed up from the squeal of metal on the polished floor and pouted.

"Could've at least bought me a drink. Not like you don't know what I like," you moaned sullenly.

Glancing over your shoulder you could see the line was almost at the door, and the thought of standing in it to get your much-needed fix of caffeine sounded like hell on earth. With your best puppy dog eyes, you rounded back to Kiba who was watching you fixedly, jaw set in a firm line.

"Oh no. I already stood in that queue, had to almost sell my soul to Satan himself to get the last apple danish. It's not my fault that you're so hungover that you can't face standing up for longer than a minute," he all but yelled at you.

Kiba was more pissed than you had expected, you must have really caused a scene for him to be this level of mad at you. Caffeine was your biggest weakness, and he knew it. Groaning loudly as you rubbed at your aching temples, you tried to replay the snippets of what you remembered from the previous night.

Anger snapped at your fingers. The burn of absolute fury had you rubbing at your chest in discomfort, and you well remembered the slap you had landed with the stinging pain that still lingered on your palm. A face you would much rather forget loomed into your mind's eye, tall and dark-haired. A cocky lopsided smile on his face as he tried to wave away your well-founded accusations.

Goddamn Obito Uchiha, he was the devil incarnate. Nothing but a cheating scumbag that had promised you the world but in the end gave you only hell and one heck of a headache.

You could recall the heated whispers of your girlfriends, the words that had curdled your stomach and caused your pulse to pound in your ears. Your boyfriend had been seen by multiple reliable sources engaged in acts that should solely be reserved for you. He had fallen back into the arms of his ex, and he didn't even have the decency to end things before he went and stuck his dick in her.

Sure, you could have handled things better, you knew that, but he had it coming to him.

"Kiba," you whined, "I know that I probably didn't do myself any favours last night, but you can't tell me that he wasn't asking for it? The bastard cheated on me! A slap to the face was hardly the end of the world..."

You fell silent whilst his stare iced over instantly.

The warmth of his amber-flecked eyes was gone in a heartbeat, cold fury descended over his face as he leant forward with his arms braced on the table. You couldn't help but admire the black ink that ran from his left elbow and slipped beneath the sleeve of his fitted t-shirt. His bicep flexed as he pointed a thick finger in your face.

"Are you serious? You think I'm pissed at you for throwing a piss poor slap at that self-centred prick?" he hissed through clenched teeth.

"Be quiet," he added as your mouth popped open to shoot back your reply.

"Course he deserved it, and the rest of what he got..."

You frowned at the ominous statement in confusion, suddenly eyeing his hands intently, and as you had suspected, the knuckles were raw and split open in places. That only ever happened when… Icy dread whispered down your spine at the unwelcome thought.

"What I am downright furious about is the scene you made after that slap. Don't you remember shouting your damn head off, screeching like a fucking banshee for 'that bitch' as you called her? Must have slipped your mind that you stormed right across the bar, literally pushing over your friends that just wanted to help and then threw up all over the pinball machine, yeah?"

You blanched, literally feeling the colour drain from your face as you did indeed recall flashes of what he spat at you so venomously. All you wanted was for the ground to open up and swallow you whole, instead, you raised your hands to cover your face, or at least, you tried.

A rough hand wrapped around your wrist and forcefully removed it from your mortified face.

"Uh-uh, I got more to say and you are gonna listen, so perk those little ears up mama. I could forgive you yelling like a lunatic and spewing your load, god knows I'm more than aware you're such a damn lightweight. What I cannot forgive is you running out the door and going fuck knows where!"

He was getting louder and you cringed.

It felt like a thousand eyes were on the pair of you, and it made the introvert in you crumble like a sandcastle being overwhelmed by the ocean. You had wondered why you'd awoken in your childhood bedroom, why the window was wide open and your dad was holding a baseball bat over his head as you emerged from the cocoon of bedsheets. Old habits die hard and sneaking in and out of your bedroom window proved to be one of them even though you had long moved out of your parents’ home.

Your mouth was drier than a desert, tongue heavy in your mouth as Kiba finished his tirade. He huffed through his nose like an angry bull, and with only the jut of his jaw, he silently demanded a response. The problem was, you didn't know what to say, surely you were out of excuses for the poor choices you had made. It seemed like this was a cycle you were meant to repeat from now until the end of time.

Step One – find a new boyfriend who would quickly become your obsession.

Step Two – Kiba would either know them already or meet them only to immediately disapprove and ask you to end things. Ask was putting it mildly too.

Step Three – you and he would argue like squabbling schoolchildren until one of you stormed out, resulting in a period of silence.

Step Four – said boyfriend would reveal his true colours in the most atrocious of ways and annoyingly prove Kiba right time and again.

Step Five – Kiba picked up the broken pieces of your heart and soul, glueing them back together with an ever-patient hand. Although he never failed to tell you, ‘I told you so.’

Repeat.

Shame burned in your chest, the feeling filled you from head to toe and it was enough to intensify the headache that crested through your brain like waves on a turbulent sea. All this and you had no damn coffee to at least take the very edge off your misery.

What could you say?

You had acted like a selfish brat with those actions, your friend had every right to be angry at you and it was only then you noticed the dark shadows that lingered beneath Kiba's eyes. You grabbed his hand and held it tightly in your own when he tried to withdraw, pulling it toward you.

"Please don't tell me you've been up all night cause of me?"

He shrugged and again tried to pull his hand free, but he didn't truly fight you. It was evident to both of you that if he wanted to retrieve his hand, he would be able to do so with ease. He grunted in reply and looked pointedly over your shoulder.

Fuck!

"I'm sorry," you whispered with a slight hiccup, fighting the flow of tears that threatened to spill upon the bougie-looking rustic tabletop. A fingertip traced a gnarled knot, it grounded you and kept you from completely losing it.

"Kiba, please. I'm sorry, it won't happen again. I know I've said that before but I mean it, I do, I promise. No more idiots and no more making an absolute fool of myself."

"I'll believe it when I see it."

His tone had returned to a more amicable level, with a smirk unfolding on his lips and you knew that the worst of the storm was over.

Worry had been at the core of his fury, not knowing where you were until you had texted him upon waking at your parent’s house. Frantic fingers flew across the keys whilst listening to your dad's yells of indignation about how you should have used the damn front door instead of climbing in through your old bedroom window.

This really was the straw to break the camel's back.

It was exhausting, the emotional toll enough to have you curled into a tight ball on most nights. True that the highs were intoxicatingly good, but the lows were soul-suckingly abysmal. It was time that you stopped endlessly chasing around after men who were never worth your time and effort. Maybe if you stopped searching, the right man would find you instead.

"I'm done, I promise," you reiterated with a steely determination in your eye.

Kiba tipped back in his chair, assessing your words and finding them to be genuine. His normal goofy smile manifested and it was like the first ray of sunshine you had seen in weeks. He truly was the best friend you could ever ask for, and when he stood with a sigh, you realised you couldn't love him anymore.

"Caramel macchiato?"

Or could you?

–

Kiba had known it wouldn't last, it never did, so why would this time be any different?

The trouble was that he adored you from the tip of your sharp tongue right down to your uncoordinated feet that stumbled and fumbled no matter how hard you tried to keep your balance. The pair of you had been friends since your schooldays and you were both prominent figures within your wider social group. What he didn't like about you, and was not quiet about, was your god-awful taste in men.

You couldn't help it, you were downright adorable so of course, men were always gonna be drawn to you, but did you have to pick the worst scumbags imaginable? He had never believed that one person could get it wrong over and over without at least learning some kind of lesson. It must be some kind of imbalance in your brain and it was astonishing, to say the least.

Over the years you had gone through phases, such as the bad boy stage where you swore blind that you could reform idiotic womanizing players like Asuma Sarutobi. Everyone and their grandmother knew that Asuma could not keep his eyes, and hands, off the ladies. It was never going to matter how many times in a day you fucked him, he was destined to stray and stray he did.

Kiba was there to pick up the pieces, to reassure you that it was most definitely his loss, and no, he didn't think you needed to lose any fucking weight! Why would you even think that? He didn’t always understand women and the fascination with weight was his biggest bugbear.

Then there was the sophiscated phase which he referred to as the smugly quiet phase. Itachi Uchiha was only a few years older than you but damn did he act like he was a motherfucking elder. The condescending smiles, the little tuts and eye rolls at what he deemed to be childish acts and that low almost monotonous tone that spoke volumes about his feelings, or lack thereof.

Again, Kiba had warned you off but you chose to ignore him as usual.

Instead, he waited until Itachi sat you down and told you abruptly that you were too immature for him, effectively breaking your heart in all the time it took him to blink those feminine-looking long dark eyelashes of his. Kiba was there for you to cry upon his shoulder, to wipe your snotty nose and assure you that you were not immature, that dude was just an old ass fuddy-duddy.

Obito had simply been the latest in a long line of utter morons, and part of him had desperately hoped you would keep your word this time. The one thing he was glad about was that you had never dated within your friendship circle, though it hadn't stopped some of the guys from trying.

You would never know about the times he had forcibly taken aside the likes of Naruto and Shikamaru, the muttered threats of mortal wounds and outright death if they so much as dared to touch you. Kiba was always met with nervous chuckles, reassuring pats on the shoulder and hastily sworn oaths that they would keep their distance. Shikamaru had even looked downright pleased with himself, as if he knew something that Kiba didn’t and that encounter had lingered with him for a long while.

It had been a good month since you swore 'til you were blue in the face that you were done chasing men, a record for you but it had all come tumbling down when Hidan entered the fray.

Hidan–a dude who swore he had no last name. Seriously, who did he think he was, the goddamn pope? Perhaps he should have taken that final step much like Prince had done and changed his name into a symbol, it certainly wouldn't have made him any more pretentious.

The man clearly thought he was the next messiah and Kiba had taken an instant dislike to him. This time it was different and he couldn't shake the fear that gripped his heart. Worry gnawed at him, the sense that his guy was more than capable of drawing you into things that could endanger you. The saying goes that you should listen to your gut and Kiba took that very literally. His every instinct screamed of danger and put him on high alert for trouble.

Weeks had passed since you two first started dating and although he desperately wanted to teach you a lesson by giving you the usual silent treatment until you snapped, he refrained. Something stopped him, a niggling doubt that poked him at the most random of times. He wasn’t about to let something befall you on his watch, he’d never forgive himself if it did.

Instead, he watched much like a predator would, assessed this cocky-ass male and learned his weaknesses. Kiba knew Hidan hated to be called out on things, his word was law in his mind and that just grated on the Inuzuka to the worst possible level.

He remembered well the night that Hidan had cornered him as he left the bar restroom, his fist thundering into the wall next to his head in an attempt to intimidate him. It didn't take much for Kiba to snap, yet he managed to hold on to his composure this time. Fought to retain his sanity tooth and nail because he would not play into Hidan's hands, for this was a game to him.

"You wanna fuck her, dontcha?"

"Killing you to know that it's my dick that she sits on each and every chance she gets, huh? Cock hungry little slut that she is."

The inflammatory words had been like grenades exploding behind his eyes, what an utter cunt he was for speaking about you in such a derogatory manner. Kiba had stuffed his white-knuckled fists deep into his pockets, biting his tongue and pushing away from the sneering male without further incident.

In hindsight he was shocked that he had managed to keep it together and not outright punched the fucker–he wanted to–but then again so had Hidan. It was a part of his plan to isolate you, to keep you from your friends and family so that he could steal all your time and attention. He was the definition of a toxic male.

Manipulative fucker!

The Inuzuka drained his beer and let his head fall back against the couch cushions. He was at his wit's end, there was no plan to swirl inside his rampant brain that seemed likely to work.

How long had he ignored his feelings for you?

Too long was the answer. He doubted you were ever going fall into his arms as he wished, but he satisfied himself with being your ever-constant rock. If he could not have you, he would make damn sure that whoever was lucky enough to steal your heart treated you like a princess.

It hurt his heart, but it was better than the emptiness that came with the alternative.

Tired eyes looked towards his phone that was buzzing incessantly on the couch beside him, he palmed the device and looked at the screen to find your name illuminated like a beacon in the darkness of his lounge. He schooled his features although he knew you could not see him and answered the call.

"What's up?"

–

You were a dumbass.

There was no other way to describe how dense you were when it came to your love life. You had to wonder if you had a sign above your head that attracted the absolute worst of mankind to swarm you like insects. Was there something wrong with you? Were you actually a bad person who didn't deserve to be loved?

You made your way to the apartment you knew as intimately as your own.

Feet carrying you ever forward, speeding you towards comfort in the arms of Kiba. He would make it all better, wouldn't he?

For once, you didn't know if he could. There were only so many times you could be knocked down before you could no longer get back up and it was getting harder and harder to find your feet.

Tears threatened to fall but you refused. Curling your hands into tight fists until your nails sank into the flesh, close to puncturing the skin but not quite. It grounded you and kept the tears at bay. How long it would last, you weren't sure.

The ache in your chest eased as Kiba answered the door with worry prominent on his features. Pinched brow and pristine white teeth gnawing his lower lip in earnest. Even before you could step inside, he was reaching for you, dragging you into his strong embrace and wrapping you in his essence.

You sank into him willingly, inhaling his musky spice-infused scent until you were filled with it. It felt like stepping into a perfectly hot bath after a long exhausting day, the tension from your muscles draining away whilst you sagged against the chest that rose and fell in harmony with your own. Kiba wrapped one arm wrapped around your lower back, a thumb rubbing against you in soothing motions whilst the other cradled your head and let you settle into his broad shoulder.

Why couldn't all the men in your life be like this?

Kiba accepted you for who you were and had no interest in changing you into something that would better suit him. His soul was filled with warm light, you saw it through the amber flecks in his eyes, the adorable dimple appearing on his right cheek when he smiled broadly and through his caring actions.

"Tell me everything babe," he cooed softly into your mussed hair, ruffling the strands with his breath.

Where to begin?!

You spent the next hour filling in your longtime friend with every dreaded detail from this afternoon, sipping cautiously on a beer that he offered you once seated on his squishy leather couch. The last thing you wanted to do was succumb to alcohol, but one would settle your nerves you reasoned.

"I knew that guy was a motherfucker," Kiba hollered from the kitchen.

Rolling your eyes at the sheer joy that laced his gravelly tone, you turned to find him bent over searching the fridge aimlessly. His tight butt swayed in the hold of his black jeans, it was such a nice backside and if you were in a better mood you might have tiptoed closer to give it a good hard smack. He’d deserve it.

"Mr Kiba 'I knew he was a motherfucker' Inuzuka. Can't you ever give me a break?"

It hadn't bothered you this much when he first said it, but the more you repeated the words, the more fury infused your veins. It hit you like a tidal wave, turning you from weepy sadness to burning anger in less than a minute.

You popped to your feet, pacing back and forth whilst your fists clenched and unclenched at your sides. Wary amber eyes followed your movements, closing the fridge door with a hard thud that made the magnets rattle. Magnets you had gifted that asshole. The grim set of his jaw was back, irritation so quick to line his features until you were both scowling at one another.

"The fuck? Why have you always got to be so fucking high and mighty? You ain't perfect either, you know!" You were yelling now, raw emotion burning your throat and turning your body into a literal inferno.

"High and mighty? You gotta be joking me. Watch your damn mouth, my patience will only remain for so long. I suggest you calm the fuck down and sit down as well!"

He was making it worse, where was his usual compassion when you stormed like this?

"Or what Kiba? You gonna chuck me out?" You snorted through your nose and missed the flash of pure rage that flitted through his blown-wide pupils.

All six foot two of him towered above you, so close you could feel the heat roiling off his body and licking at your flesh. The back of your legs caught the edge of the glass coffee table and he was grabbing at your upper arms in an instant.

You gasped when his fingers dug into the meat of your arms until you almost yelped out for him to stop. Head tipped back and heart thundering from an evil cocktail of anger and bitterness, you straight up growled at him like a dog ready to lunge and attack.

"When are you going to open your fucking eyes?" he whispered, low and so very dangerous that the hairs on the nape of your neck prickled to attention.

Too wrapped in your own negative emotions, you failed to comprehend his words fully. Oblivious to the storm of desire that was rapidly rising to the surface in the male fixing you in place. You ignored his words and spat more venom at him in an attempt to get him to release you.

"When was the last time you even got laid Kiba? Haven't seen any of your airheads flouncing about in forever. They made me sick to my stomach with their simpering eyes out on stalks, drooling over you like you were some kind of fucking god."

He let go in a moment of startled surprise as your words found their mark, and you stormed towards the door only to have your wrist captured in a rough hand. Kiba pulled you back to him, the tug was so forceful that your chest bumped into his and your free hand flew to the wall of steel that was his chest in an attempt to balance yourself.

"Jealous?" he seethed, lowering his face until you were practically nose to nose

Had you been in your right mind, you might have taken a moment to process that incredibly loaded question and see it for what it actually was. Instead, your primal instincts found themselves firmly in the driving seat as a war cry pounded in your ears and a tightness grew heavy in the pit of your stomach.

You snatched your hand back and grabbed two fistfuls of his stupid tousled chestnut hair, pressing yourself onto your tiptoes to reach his wickedly curled lips.

This was no soft kiss, it was cruel and punishing.

Lips met, teeth gnashed and snarls sounded from both of your throats as Kiba reacted in kind. His hands were not gentle as he cupped your face, one hand stealing into your hair and wrapping it around his fist. He pulled, forcing your throat to strain taut and ripping your mouth away from his with a hiss.

White-hot fury veiled your vision in red. His sharp almost fang-like incisors sank into your vulnerable neck, harsh and selfish as he marked you for his own. Greedy lips followed the exquisite sting of pain, sucking at the skin indented by his teeth until the entire area would be bruised and tender to the touch when your sanity returned.

You didn't know what made you say it, the words were out of your mouth before you took note of them.

"Seems like you've been the jealous one.” Kiba froze against your frantic pulse point.

His eyes were positively feral, the pupils almost entirely swallowing his normally warm amber irises. Cheeks dabbled in rough whiskers from the late hour and the tendon from neck to collarbone straining from exertion. Kiba levelled you with a dangerous stare and you couldn't help but look away to admire his forearms instead of succumbing to his piercing gaze. The sleeves of his open shirt rolled to the elbows–a look that had you weak at the knees at the best of times–and the strength in those corded muscles was obvious to your appreciative eye.

"That’s right, m’gonna make you forget about those stupid assholes that didn't know what a treasure they had. Their loss is my gain. If you want this," he pointed to himself to emphasise the point, "if you want me, then come get it."

Without a backwards glance, he stormed to the island in his kitchen and left you there… alone and bereft of his overwhelming heat. Kiba stood with his lower back resting against the counter, one ankle crossed over the other and his arms folded as he watched you. His muscled chest heaved with every laboured breath, cheeks ruddy from the kiss you’d shared and there was a more than subtle bulge on the front of his jeans.

Did you want him, your best friend Kiba?

Hell yeah, you did!

Annoyed by your own oblivious stupidity, the puzzle pieces clicked together in your head. Kiba was downright sexy, his physique godly and a face that was both rugged and angelic depending on his mood. He was funny, a total goofball who made it his mission to keep you laughing until you were clutching your stomach and begging for mercy. A social butterfly who ensured he gave his friends equal attention, he knew every birthday and often was the ringleader of group outings and meetups.

He was your Kiba.

The person you relied upon most in the world, your constant and when you tried to imagine a world without him, it stole your breath until you were crippled by the agony. Had you been jealous of his idiotic little girlfriends? Yes, you always wanted to be the centre of his universe and they distracted from that. You had tried to mask it as a dislike for his taste in women but most of his exes had been perfectly nice if you had given them the time of day to get to know.

It was clear, that you wanted him.

You ran.

Four long strides and you threw yourself into his quickly outstretched arms. He caught you –of course, he did –bearing your weight with practised ease as you wrapped around him like climbing ivy. Hands fisting into the t-shirt that lay beneath his shirt as you found his mouth once more, sought to reclaim it and make your intentions crystal fucking clear.

This time the kiss was more tender, yet the passion was still as ardent and heady. His wide hands roamed your hips until he was kneading the meat of your ass through your pants and making your lower half grind against him in sinful bliss. The zipper of his jeans pressed against your centre through the layers of clothes and you moaned openly into his mouth.

Kiba was famished, he swallowed your lewd noises and was quick to incite more as he turned to perch you atop the counter. His hips rolled into you, languid but forceful whilst he explored the wet cavern of your mouth. Your tongue rolled over his in an erotic dance that had no end in sight. If not for your necessity to breathe, there would be no parting you and only the shared oxygen in the space created by two friends that finally breached a line that had been long held and now threatened to either tie them together or pull them apart.

You tugged expectantly at his clothes, desperate to strip him to your gaze and finally, he relented. Kiba pulled back long enough to tug off his shirt and tee, discarding them haphazardly. His warm breath fanned your cheek, stuttering when your cool fingers stroked and detailed the definition of his torso.

"Eager little thing," he growled. The smile he sported only served to highlight the ego that was often to focus of your teasing. Yet, this time no humourous jabs came to mind. For once you were glad of his self-confidence and eagerness to move things along.

He divested you of your oversized hoodie, thankful you had taken the time to put on a nice bra beneath it despite the mess you had been in earlier. His groan was heaven to your ears and when he dove to kiss you through the sheer material of your bralette you thought you had died right there and then.

Saliva dampened the already thin fabric, those dangerous wolfish teeth nipping at your pebbled buds. With your head tossed back, he used that wicked mouth of his on your breasts and you were unprepared for the piercing rip that flooded the hushed space. Kiba had torn clean through the garment, the halves falling down your arms to lay destroyed on the floor.

"Kiba!" you half yelled, half squeaked as he took that exact moment to suckle your nipple between his plush lips. Your belly quivered, the pulling sensation more intoxicating than the most potent alcohol and the feeling echoed far more intensely between your trembling thighs. Your fingers carded through his lush hair, nails scraping against his scalp and smiling indulgently at the rumble deep in his throat.

"I'll buy you more, promise baby. Lay back, need to get you naked," he said sounding entirely as drunk as you felt.

For once you were eager to follow his instruction, a novelty for Kiba who merely watched with a knowing look that promised he would deliver of your wildest fantasies if you’d just fucking listen to him, at long last. His eager fingers hooked into the waistband of your leggings and were quickly dragged down your supple legs. Slowly, he eased his calloused fingers back up your bare legs, stopping to toy with the back of your knees and listen to the subtle gasp caught tight in your throat.

Funny how you had thought he would be rough and impatient, the deed almost over with and the finish line hurtled towards at inhumane speed when here he was taking his sweet time. It was maddening when all you wanted was for him to feel the searing heat that was radiating from between your thighs, to dip his fingertips against your panties and know how drenched they already were from the mere prospect of being with him.

As if sensing your thought process, Kiba finally parted thighs whilst you rested backwards on your elbows. A low appreciative hum caught your ear and you shifted your focus to the tight grip he had on his bottom lip, teeth sinking deep and the wide flare of his nostrils like he was scenting you as an animal would do. He planted your feet and pushed your knees to the sides until you were splayed out like a cat in heat. It was vulnerable and so exhilarating you couldn't help but wriggle.

His eyes were glazed over when he, at last, moved to touch your panties, zeroing in on the obvious damp patch and letting his head roll along his neck for a second as a visible shiver passed up the length of his spine. You’d swear he appeared like those cartoon characters that have zapped with electricity, near every hair on his body rippling from the sensation.

"Have to taste you, sweetheart. My pretty fuckin’ girl."

A chaste kiss fell to your lips before he began a slow tortured path down your body, stopping here and there as he learned the spots that made you tremble and shake, noting carefully when you would whine and try to cling to him. Smug smiles and smears of his saliva were painted upon your heated skin, and he let loose a triumphant bark of laughter when you whimpered your impatience.

"Please," you mewled, a hand pressing atop his head to hurry his descent. Forward was not something you were familiar with, shyness always overtaking your urge to express your wants, but with Kiba, you knew there was no need for any such concerns.

"Tell me exactly what you want and I’ll deliver."

You could cry at the bubble of pressure that was desperate for release, sitting just below the surface, if he would just touch you.

"Wan’ you to fuck me with your mouth, need it so bad Kiba! Please–"

The last syllable had barely left your mouth before he was diving for your centre, underwear pressed aside as he nudged your clit with his nose and inhaled deeply. One roughened pad explored your slick folds, collecting the nectar and pressing it into his mouth.

His sigh was purely reverential and he settled down to devour you like a starving man sat before his first meal in weeks. It was all too much, the immediate stimulation intense enough to have your toes curling where they now rested down his broad back.

Kiba laid languid swipes of his molten tongue along your slit, alternating between flickering motions against your engorged pearl and slow circular patterns around your sopping hole. The walls of your cunt fluttered, desperate to be filled and clench around something–anything–and when his finger slipped easily inside you bucked wildly.

“Shh, keep still. Lemme hear your pretty voice but gotta hold still, yeah?” He encouraged, mouth only moving far enough way for you to hear his heated request.

It took mere minutes for you to come apart on his mouth, his digit sucked deep as he stroked your slick, spongy walls and suckled at your clit to almost pain. Your legs were limp from the unrelenting waves of euphoria that raced throughout your body and if not for the grounding palm caressing your thigh then you might have passed out there and then when white sparks shot straight through your vision.

Kiba didn’t spill a single drop of your nectar, the wet insistent muscle rolling into your cunt over and over to simply dig more of the delicious juices from your quivering body before he stood with the lower half of his face glistening in your essence. It felt… empowering. The intense lust that blazed in his eyes, a lust that was for you and no one else. Fuck. You loved him. Had for a long time. Why had you taken so long to see it for what it really was?

It wasn’t the time to get stuck in your head like this, there would be moments for these thoughts and what lay beyond but right now, you weren’t entirely satisfied and you wouldn’t be until you had milked the man looming over you for every drop he could deliver.

With renewed vigour and determination, you propped yourself on your elbows and then lunged forward towards the buckle of his belt. You’d never worked so deftly as you worked to unbuckle him, moaning at the loud metal clattering loose. Buttons worked free and zipper pulled down, the waistband of his underwear came into sight and your fingers curled around that final barrier and released with him an audible gasp mingled with his sigh of relief.

You had known he was going to be well endowed, could feel it from the press of his body only earlier, but it was still a shock to see him in all his glory, and what a glory it was. His length was impressive, but it was his girth that was the true beauty–if you could even call such a monster a beauty. Kiba's cock could barely support its own weight, the angry length tipped to a deep purple with precum leaking from the slit under your scrutiny.

It looked enormous in your petite hand, managing to encircle the shaft but only just did your fingertips meet. You stroked his velvety soft skin, paying attention to the stark veins that stood to attention and how Kiba reacted when you traced over the most prominent with a salacious smile. You scooted towards the edge of the counter, eyes locked with him with every deliberate move you made.

The head kissed against your glistening folds and you teased both of you by running the blunt tip along your slit until it bumped against your clitoral hood. His fingers were gripping the edge of the counter so tightly you feared he would crumble the marble under his strong hands if he wasn't careful. You notched him at your slowly pulsing entrance, and on a breathy keening noise, you pleaded.

"Fuck me Kiba."

You knew that he had snapped when an animalistic noise roared from his throat and the death grip moved from the counter to your hips as he pushed into your cunt. Kiba eagerly watched your walls suck him in, utterly drunk on the silken feel of you in much the same way that you were drunk on him. Every drag of his shaft rubbed delicious friction into your most intimate areas with a precision he shouldn’t yet possess. He was made for you and you were made to take him.

There would be a time for slower moments and tender loving making, for you were sure that Kiba was not going to escape from you, not now. He was yours, and you his. This alone had you urging him on, driving that feral side of him to act and do it hard and fast with nips at his lips and nails clawing down his back.

His hips pistoned like a well-oiled machine, and sweat clung to his forehead as he set a pace that saw him pounding into your pussy. A relentless rhythm that matched the pound of your heart, clammy skin on skin and kisses that acted better than any drugs ever could.

"This what you wan’? Hungry for my cock, huh?"

His words were staccato with every thrust that he delivered, your body jerking with the wild and powerful movements. Your head fell back against the counter as moan after decadent moan left your throat. Kiba's tight grip moved to your waist and he began to pull you onto his length, your back sliding against the marble top making your tits bounce and your ass slap against his pelvis. Every drag of his shaft against your walls made you keen for him, full to capacity but craving more nevertheless. He was using you like his own personal fucktoy and you were creaming around him at that knowledge, the lewd squelches of your bodies joined in this way growing louder and louder.

"Tell me. Need to hear you say it, kitten."

"Oh… fu-fuck! Need your dick, feel so good–ah!" You screamed when Kiba leaned over you and altered the angle of how he was driving into you. His mouth sucked possessive marks onto the sides of your breasts as you used the last of your hastily retreating sanity to again fist his hair and force him even closer to you.

"Tell me I'm better than those other motherfuckers. No one can fuck you like this, nobody else is worthy of this beautiful pussy," he growled, breaking from your hold to allow him to press his thumb against your clit and making you jerk at the sudden unsuspecting touch.

"Kiba–best. Gonna, oh god–m’so close. No one but you."

Your brain was a puddle, the ecstasy too much for full coherent thoughts as you felt the gush hit against his groin. You soaked him in your juices, the wet noises crescendoing whilst stars winked into your vision.

"Such a good fuckin’ girl, oh shit. What a beautiful mess you've made on me," he cooed in praise, slowing his pace but never stopping. He had to be close; your walls desperately trying to milk him, to force his release in kind.

Slowly, you returned to the earth, oversensitive from each measured stroke that he delivered until he pulled from you and wiped the sweat from his brow. He fisted his shaft as you watched, tears springing to your eyes at being denied his release.

"Wanna come down your throat, think you can manage?" he asked, his eyes burning into yours as he pumped himself.

Your thighs were shaky, the skin slick with the spill of your arousal but you managed not to fall to the floor. Kiba steadied you with his free hand, groaning in his throat as you knelt before him. His head fell back when you parted your lips and accepted him into your wet mouth.

The taste of his essence mingled with your own, sweet and bitter but definitely not unpleasant. You had never done this before and it felt so wicked as you watched Kiba come apart above you. He could barely maintain his eye contact with you, heat surging to his cheeks and his hands cradling your head in gentle reverence.

His hips jerked, your fingers sinking into his ass that flexed beneath your touch as he kissed against your throat. The muscles constricted and he faltered. "Oh fuck, so close sweetheart."

Your teeth unsheathed carefully, tongue running the length of the litany of veins that ran his shaft and teeth grazing his sensitive flesh until his fingers seized and you felt the hot spurts of his release. It poured down your throat until you pulled back, the rest pooling on your pink tongue.

Kiba panted and whined, losing himself in the moment and the feel of your scorching mouth, chest heaving with each laboured inhale. You showed him the milky seed that coated your tongue, watching his eyes roll to the back of his skull the second after you swallowed audibly and opened up to show your now empty mouth.

The seconds ticked by and neither of you moved as your breathing slowly returned to normal. How gorgeous he looked to you, spent and blushing. The massive frame of his body–Kiba’s body–completely undone by your actions and your body.

"That's one way to get over Hidan," he groused, trying to turn from you.

You were not going to allow him to step away from this, two hearts were on the line and you refused to see him in pain. You stood abruptly, possibly a mistake given how your thighs quaked but not giving a shit at the moment. You pulled him back to you, arms resting over his wide shoulders and placing a chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth. Pouring every bit of love and desire into your expression, you fixed him with a sincere smile and watched his eyes widen and soften, the creases smoothing out to reveal his true self, the one you were intimately familiar with.

"Who?"

#delirious writes #kiba inuzuka #kiba x reader #kiba smut #kiba angst #kiba x you #kiba

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