#kinktober fic :)

[sytoran]

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟎𝟎𝟐 — 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐉𝐎𝐁

kinktober day 002 | secretary!natalie rushman x ceo!reader

natasha's mission to retrieve a thumbdrive file involves seducing a high-ranking executive, and the seduction goes smoothly. a little too well, in fact, that she doesn't notice you're not all you seem to be.

cont. reader has a cock, power play, begging

word count. 1869

kinktober masterlist || main masterlist

To Natasha, you were nothing more than just another target.

She was an unfathomably, dangerously-skilled assassin, feared across nations and intelligence bureaucracies. She was a Red Room widow gone rogue, taking things in her own stride and shifting the world upside down as she pleased. Renowned political figures and billionaire executives were dropping like flies, and you, were no different.

This time, Natasha Romanoff was going undercover as Natalie Rushman.

It had been embarrassingly easy for her to infiltrate security and create a false persona for herself. Climbing up the ranks of a corporate business like this one had been more time-consuming, sure, spanning over a few months, but Natalie would reap what she sow.

Chief Executive Officer Y/N L/N was all-too-easy to fool, even more gullible than the other targets Natasha had preyed upon. 

All it took was the classic seduction: bending over to ‘pick up a pen’, coincidentally right in your field of vision, clinging onto your arm and looking up with wide doe eyes while you talked, giggling shyly when you made a joke and tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

In the end, all her targets got caught up in the Widow’s Web. You were rendered useless and completely at Natasha’s mercy, waiting to be preyed upon for manipulation and her own personal gain.

Or at least, that’s what you let her think.

“Fuck, baby,” you cursed, eyes screwed shut as your secretary bobbed her head up and down the girthy length of your cock, lewd noises escaping both your lips.

Natalie looked up at you through glossy eyes, bottle-red lipstick smeared but unarguably pretty, batting her eyelashes every so often. It had only taken a week of flirting before you took her home, your actions seemingly foolish.

“Take it all down your throat, Natalie, fuck,” you said breathily, hands tugging onto her hair as you chased your own high. Natasha almost choked on the length in her mouth at the fast pace you had set, but she quickly hollowed out her cheeks to engulf your wet heat once more.

Shit, it had been a while since Natasha had gotten such a thick cock, above average in length, too. Normally, these high-ranking executives had disappointingly miniscule excuses of a member, but this was thrillingly different. 

Still, Natasha couldn’t forget why she had made all this effort to get to your house.

“Fuck, babe, you’re too good at this,” you comment breathlessly, chest heaving as you come down from your high. “Bedroom?”

To speed up the process, Natasha finished you off with her hands working on the base of your cock, calculated squeezes and strokes that had you jerking your hips up as you toppled over the edge. Jets of hot white come went down Natasha’s throat, as she greedily sucked and swallowed.

Tastes fucking good too, she thought. Maybe this won’t be so bad.

Natasha had to refrain from rolling her eyes. What you wanted was predictable, to have your cock inside her. She wanted something different, though. It was why she had embarked on this mission in the first place.

“Can we go to your office?” Natasha asks instead, never failing to load up on that sultry tone that had people falling to their knees. She licks her lips drenched in your seed, kissing her way up your unbuttoned shirt as she rises to her feet. Her navigation of your surprisingly well-built body ends at the column of your neck.

Calculatedly, Natasha presses her slick lips to the hot skin of your neck, her residual lipstick making an enviable mark there. 

“I want you to bend me over your office desk.”

Natasha can’t help but smirk at your affected reaction. You hastily lift your secretary up by the back of her thighs, letting her hook her legs around your torso. A sloppy kiss kickstarts your burning need to meet her needs.

Of course, the sole reason why Natasha wanted to go to your office was to retrieve a very important thumb drive that was stored there. As you were the CEO of an incredibly powerful corporate firm, being able to have that kind of information meant a wealth of power, influence, and information.

There isn’t a doubt of the sinful possibilities floating through your mind right now, as you single-handedly unclasp her bra and rid of her remaining garments, as you stumble your way over to your office.

Everything was going according to Natasha's plan.

As if on cue, you kick open the door of your office and ungracefully deposit Natasha onto your desk. The way you’re manhandling her is arguably hot, and when you trail kisses down the back of Natasha’s neck, she quite nearly forgets what she came here to do.

“Need you inside me, now,” Natasha growls out, because she needs to get this operation going. What scares her for a moment is that her statement isn’t entirely untrue, because you were evidently more skilled than any of her previous counterparts and she so craved release.

 You certainly don’t disappoint in that aspect, forcefully bending Natasha over the desk as she wished, then painstakingly slowly dragging her skirt down with your teeth. 

“Fuck,” Natasha doesn’t mean to whimper when your cock slides between her wet folds, collecting slick arousal with that huge shaft, but she does whimper, and you let out a low noise from your chest.

As you’re busy getting your cock lubricated enough to enter her, Natasha seizes this opportune moment of your distraction to slides her hand over the desk to where your laptop was, unplugging the thumbdrive just as you speak up again.

“You’re fucking naughty, hm?” you growl, and Natasha freezes.

The fear envelops her whole, before Natasha realizes that you’ve remained blissfully oblivious to her actions and were trapped in the haze of sex.

“You’re fuckin’ naughty, wanting me to bend you over my table like that. Beg for my cock, and maybe I’ll let you use it.”

Natasha gulps, not understanding why she’s threatening to start drooling onto your desk, her body building up so much slick.

She’s the Black Widow, for fuck’s sakes, and she bowed down to no one. She was in control, dictating the decisions that crafted this very situation, hooking you around her pretty little finger.

After all, she had already retrieved the thumb drive. Her mission was already over, already completed. She had no reason to stay. She could knock you out cold in a matter of mere seconds, so why was she so hesitant?

Your grip hardens at her disobedience, and Natasha can’t help the whine that tumbles out when you pull your cock way from her wet heat. 

“You want it, hm? Then beg for it,” you repeat, dangerously close to Natasha’s ear, raising goosebumps with your hot breath brushing the surface of her skin.

Natasha wails when you push her back into the desk, pebbled nipples pressing into the cold glass. She’s clenching around nothing, wet walls fluttering emptily, slick arousal dripping down her thighs. 

Suddenly, you bring your hand up and harshly slap Natasha’s ass. The moan she lets out is downright pornographic, high-pitched and long-lasting as a red blush blossoms on her rounded ass, the pain stinging her skin and pricking tears behind her eyes.

It’s been so long, her body screams at her. You need this. Need to be fucked, need to be used.

“Beg for it.”

“Please! Need your cock, please,” Natasha babbles, finally, giving in to your urges. When you thrust your whole length down her tight pussy, all in one go, Natasha almost falls apart instantly.

You thrust up into her, hard, thick length pushing past her slick walls. If Natasha thought you were big before, with your cock in her mouth, now she knew you were fucking huge.

It isn’t long before you’re fucking into her with an animalistic nature, skin slapping against skin with dirty, lewd noises. “Can’t take the size, baby?” you question dryly, pulling on her hair as Natasha drools onto your desk.

Your cock is hitting her cervix with almost every thrust. The pleasure not only stems from the fact that you were the biggest she had ever taken, but also from your sheer skill.

Natasha’s first orgasm of the night comes in a tidal wave. It’s like water breaking through a dam, hitting her with a strength she didn’t know her body possessed. Her walls flutter around your girthy cock as she squirts. 

“Oh, Y/N!” Sinful moans of your name fall from Natasha’s lips as you thrust even deeper than she thought imaginable.

In other words, that was only the beginning of the rollercoaster-esque high you would bring Natasha to.

***

Natasha awakes with groggy eyes. There’s a warm, muscled forearm splayed over her torso, and it takes a fraction of a second before Natasha remembers it’s you.

“Shit,” she whispers, looking out of the window at the rising sun. She was supposed to leave your house last night, but the events had gotten more than out of hand.

The ache in Natasha’s legs and back is a blaring reminder of that fact. The image of sweaty, slick bodies moving together in a darkened room flashes across Natasha’s mind, and she has the decency to flush a pink-red.

Checking again for the thumbdrive in her strewn clothes, Natasha nods to herself assuredly and gets herself together to make an exit. Her eyes float to your sleeping figure. Looks like she had worn you out.

“You’re kinda stupid, but you were a good fuck,” she whispers with a tilted head.

As soon as the front door of your house clicks shut, you sit up slowly, letting the blanket slide over your toned abdominal muscles and down to your waistline. 

“Just a good fuck?” you ask amusedly. “Squirting three times in a row seems better than good, if I do say so myself.” Relaxed, you reach over to your bedside and take your phone.

Dialling in a number that you’d memorised by heart, the receiver picks up in less than two rings. “You’re fuckin’ late,” a gruff voice sounds out. “What did we tell you about not fucking the targets for the whole bloody night?”

You scoff in half-annoyance and amusement. As long as you got the job done, your bosses didn’t have any reason to question your methods. "You’re just jealous you didn’t get a taste of that sweet pussy,” you drawl out contedly, delighting in the aggravated huff that crackles over the line.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist,” you continue, your face taking on a more serious expression. “The Widow left my house thirty seconds ago, with the false thumb drive."

"Details?" 

"Swapped it out while she was cumming on my cock, sir."

"......Microchip tracking device?"

"Implanted in the top button of her blouse."

"Audio recorder?"

"In the hem of her very scandalous skirt.”

There is a pause on the line, but you know not to fear. When a low chuckle is emitted from the other end, you can’t help but smirk in smug satisfaction. The next words you hear are almost as sweet as Natasha’s moans of your name.

"Well done, Agent. Your mission is complete."

if you liked this, please give it a reblog! it means the absolute world to me <3

kinktober masterlist || main masterlist

#sytoran's kinktober 2023 #kinktober #kinktober fic #kinktober 2023 #natasha romanoff x reader smut #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff smut #natalie rushman #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you smut #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha x reader smut #natasha x reader #wlw smut #gxg smut #sub natasha romanoff #bottom natasha romanoff #top reader #dom reader

[chrollohearttags]

kinktoberfest • reiner braun

show: attack on titan

kink: foot play

word count: 2.0K

content + themes: foot job, toe sucking, perv reiner, football player rei, tit fucking, mutual masturbation, cumshot

── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.─── ── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.

if he had seen one, he’d seen them all…tall, short, dark and bright, cute and ugly…suede and leather? Some would assume that he was referring to the types of women he had come across in his lifetime but that was the furthest thing from. Especially at the moment..as he sat in the shared master bedroom of the two story mansion you called home. Releasing heavy sighs whilst watching you toss out this pair of Manolos and that pair of Louboutins behind you from the massive walk in closet. To say he was growing weary would be an understatement. He had been there for what felt like hours, watching you try on a plethora of shoes and dresses. It was rather daunting but for his beloved wife? He’d do practically anything!

“Rei!” “Yes, sugar? What is it?” “What do you think of these?”

Reiner Braun: five time Heisman winner, all star quarterback and world famous football star..dwindled down to glorified styling assistant as his wife, (y/n) tried on what had to be the fiftieth pair you’d come across. The occasion? An upcoming charity banquet hosted by a bunch of celebrities and Reiner happened to be one of the guests. In truth, he couldn’t wait for it to be over so all of this could cease. “They look good, poundcake. I like them.” However, there was a bit of a positive to this whole ordeal..you looked stunning in those shoes. Something about watching you strut about in those stilettos was..rather sexy. He’d never admit it, out of fear of sounding like an absolute freak but he’d love nothing more than to have you pressing that heel to the center of his chest or have it dangling over his shoulders right now. Just then, you’d take a seat in front of him, plopping down in the chair. Keeling over in frustration..

“What’s the matter? They all look great. No need to be upset, sugar.”

“I know and that’s the problem. I’m never going to be able to find the perfect pair.”

folding your arms and releasing a heavy winded sigh, (y/n) tossed your head back and glared up at the ceiling. You were so incredibly frustrated but in his eyes? You were making a fuss about nothing! What was the big deal anyways? You’d be wearing a long gown that was certain to have all eyes on you regardless so why would they matter? “For God sakes, babe. It’s just a pair of shoes. What could be so important?” However, if only he knew..he would’ve kept his damn mouth shut and not asked that! Rising straight back up, Reiner was met with a rather cross glare. See, being the star..he never had to worry about those sorts of things. All eyes would be on him regardless and everyone would love him either way. It was the wife who’d be nitpicked apart for every little detail. It didn’t help the fact that you didn’t exactly look like the rest of the stereotypical trophy spouses either so they’d be grasping at straws by now. “Are you kidding? I wear something out of style or the wrong color and they’ll grill my ass. One wrong outfit and I’ll be labeled as the girl who can’t dress.”

honestly, he thought it was hilarious! Making all of this fuss about this when your entire closet costs more than most people’s rent. Besides, you had impeccable taste. Even so, he’d never be able to convince you otherwise. So rather than listening to you bellyache and gripe about absolutely nothing of importance, Reiner simply dredged your legs up to his laps and placed your feet in the center of it. In one fell swoop, he’d drag the plush chair towards him and bridge the gap between you. “You wanna know what I think? I think that you need a break..” “b-but!—“ “But nothing, sugar. We still have four days. I’m sure you can find something then. If not, go buy a new one. Hell, go buy fifty if it’ll make you happy. But stop worrying that pretty little head of yours, okay?” It was so like him..so typical of this man to talk you off of the deep end when you were freaking out. Whilst you were in the middle of your rant, he was discreetly removing that current pair and massaging your rather sore soles instead. Trying on twenty plus pairs consecutively would make anyone’s feet hurt. Although, that wasn’t his entire reason. There was a bit of underlying selfishness to it as well..

“You’re right, papa. I’m sorry..it’s not that serious.” Chuckling to himself, Reiner continued kneading his fingers into your flesh, trying to relax those tendons. As he did so, he’d also bring your ankle and instep to his lips and place soft pecks on both. “That’s my girl..” but he didn’t stop there..he couldn’t even if he wanted to. And you didn’t exactly want him to either. On top of those long legs being accessorized with those cute shoes, you were sporting nothing more than a tiny lace teddy and to his surprise…with no panties on either; catching faint glimpses of that unsheathed little slit. Just then, a light grunt would arise from his throat as your legs parted slightly once again. Especially when he heard a whimper leave your throat as well.. “..that actually feels really good.” You most certainly needed it with the way they had been feeling. He’d press his fingertips into the curvature of your foot, wrinkle your toes and even rub up to your calves. The two of you sat there with the bridge between your bodies growing much smaller. His stubble grazing your skin and that gold anklet with his name engraved on it. By now, he had practically spread you open without you so much as even realizing and to your shock..

“..I can tell.” It was so blatantly obvious by the coat of slick on your mound and protruding clit. He would like to think you chose this particular attire on purpose but either way, he wasn’t mad..not in the slightest. The funniest part was that you didn’t try to deny it. Maybe you were equally as perverse as he was but you didn’t go get those expensive pedicures every other week and get those cute little toenails doused in white just for show…you got them done so your husband could have them in his mouth while he deep stroked you later that night! With deviant glares shrouding both of your faces, Reiner continued his onslaught of tender kissing of your ankles and toes, even flicking his tongue across them whilst looking directly into your eyes. He was intent, focused and determined to get you loosened up, which seemed to be working by the looks of it. Just that quick, you had managed to get him equally aroused; spotting an unmistakable bulge in his gray sweatpants. His shirtless torso showing off those impeccable abs. Cradling your foot with one hand, akin to the way he’d done those footballs previously, he began lacing them with sloppy pecks before placing them in his mouth and suckling. The glare in those beautiful brown eyes of yours told it all:

“…shit..Rei.” Causing you to squirm in your seat, attempting to feign off those pangs of pleasure but all you’d end up doing was rutting yourself against the cushion..furthering your desire. But just as you did so, you’d feel that imprint underneath your opposite foot grow larger, practically swelling. When he had a woman this beautiful, it took next to nothing for his dick to get hard. Especially when you were into the same taboo quirks he was.. “..play with yourself.” Muttering in that grovely tone. Only repeating it as he glided his tongue up the side of your instep and nibbled at your ankle once more. “Play with that pussy f’r me. And don’t take that foot off of me either. Keep it right there.” Absolute in what he said, you’d follow his command; slowly removing your breasts from the top of that ensemble and lifting the bottom portion to expose your heat to the cool air. Those nipples were super erect and that cunt was dripping. Kneading your fingers into those round, juicy tits..(y/n) brought them up to your mouth and began suckling those stuff buds whilst rubbing on your clit. He could hear that slick being drummed up and it sent your husband into a tailspin. He was so horny right now, it made no sense. It was taking all of his restraint to not put you on this floor, pin you down and drill your shit right here. But alas, this was a little more fun. The constant teasing, the subtle foreplay and mutual freakiness between you two. Who else would be into something like this? Massaging those fingertips over your parted plumpness, you’d toss your head back; titties swaying as you impaled yourself on those digits..bouncing up and down on them, hoping to have them replaced with his thick cock soon. For now, you’d allow him to continue savoring your toes and enjoying his rather peculiar and taboo fetish; pedaling the opposite foot against his hard on. Grunting and moaning, Reiner promptly shuffled that elastic waistband down until his entire erect sprang forth. It was swollen..all eight and a half inches standing at attention and seeping with precum; apparent by the formed stain on his pants. That mushroom tip beaming red and ready to use something to relieve that pressure. He’d immediately wrap that palm around his shaft and begin stroking. Softly shuffling it up and down from the base to the tip; smacking those full balls in the process. He shouldn’t have been this aroused by your feet of all things but his infatuation with you ran throughout the entire body. That was the effect you had on him. You’d continue bringing yourselves to the edge. “Fuck..got me so hard right now, sugar. I don’t know what to do..look what you did to me.” That mischievous chuckle and grin returned as he watched you grinding on those digits, wishing they were the real thing. The power you held over him was insurmountable. Still working yourself over, you’d giggle as well, whining so helplessly.

“Fuck..get on your knees, baby. Get on your fucking knees..”

hissing through gritted teeth as he ushered you to the ground. Reluctantly removing your toes from his mouth. With those breasts still unclothed, Reiner positioned you before him; resembling an obedient little slut, he’d impatiently grope your tits..maneuvering until his cock was nestled between them and he’d make haste in fucking them. Bucking his hips forward, Reiner growled whilst using your flesh to his satisfaction. Pumping himself through the tight confines of those squeezed breasts. Utilizing his own precum as lubricant to make it easier to push through the tightly formed orifice. To say your husband was losing his mind may have been a gross understatement. After working himself over, you’d notice that his breath was beginning to falter and his strokes became uneven..a sure fire signal that he was growing closer. It wouldn’t be long before he began to twitch. You’d press your hands to the sides of your chest, closing the gap and making it more compact..thus prompting him to come..

“Nut on them, baby. Go ahead, let it out.” Even extending your tongue and closing your eyes to prepare for it. Only seconds later did you feel him come to a halt and hear a loud grunt leave his throat. It was then that you’d feel the damp warmth splattering all over your tongue, face and tits; painting you with every droplet of his cum. Grasping your chin, Reiner then placed a gentle kiss atop your forehead, amid the laughter that followed from the two of you.

“That was fun.”

“Yes it was..thank you sugar.” Swiping the remnants from your eyes. It hadn’t even dawned on either of you that you had just gotten off in the most strange of ways. But it could be your dirty little secret..no one had to know.

#kinktober #kinktober fic #kinktober drabble #aot x black reader #black fem reader #black reader #black reader smut #reiner braun smut #reiner x black reader #reiner braun #reiner braun x black reader #reiner braun x reader #reiner braun x y/n #reiner x reader #plus size reader #aot au #reiner snk #reiner smut #reiner #aot reiner #snk drabble #snk smut #aot smut #attack on titan reiner #snk reiner #black reader fan fiction #reiner x y/n #snk x black reader #snk x reader #cw smut

[viking-raider]

The Devil Made Me Do It *Mature* 👻

Summary: Upon receiving a mysterious and anonymous invitation to a Halloween party, a chauffeur takes you to an LA mansion estate for the party; where you meet your mystery man for an All Hallow's Eve you'll never forget.

Pairing: Henry Cavill/Reader + Mystery Character/Reader

Word Count: 9.8k

Warning: M - Secrets, Mystery, Alcohol Use, Scares, Costumes, Flirting, Teasing, Language, Mysterious Behavior, Longing, Fluff, Angst, Co-Workers to Lovers - SMUT - Unprotected sex, Fingering: (F - Receiving), Voyeurism, Exhibitionism, Oral: (F - Receiving), Masturbation, Orgasm Control, Praise, Dirty Talk, Possible Corruption and Dub-Con, Light Dom, Aftercare

Inspiration: It’s Halloween and Kinktober! Posting now for Friday, the 13th!

Author’s Note: I hope you enjoy this! Line divider by @FIREFLY-GRAPHICS!

If you would like to get notifications for my writing! Just follow my Tag List blog, @VIKING-RAIDER-TAGLISTand turn on the notifications for it! It’s that easy!

“So, who is your date?” Your best friend asked, glancing at you through the mirror you were using to put the finishing touches on your Harley Quinn costume.

“I don't know.” You answered, turning your head side to side, making sure you'd gotten everything perfect. “I just got a card delivered, stating it was from someone I know and asking if I would join them for an enchanting night.”

“And you're sure it's not from a stalker?” She asked, planting her hands on her hips.

“I'm sure it's not, Maggie.” You giggled at her, shaking your head. “Few people know my nickname, and it was noted on the card. So, I know it's from someone inside our circle of friends. Stop fretting over it.” You told her, getting up and facing her. “If it's someone I don't like in our circle or I'm uncomfortable with, I'll call you.”

“You better!” Maggie huffed, wagging a finger at you.

“Yes, ma'am.” You smirked, giving her a quick hug. “I have to go, they asked me to meet them at nine. Have fun handing out candy and protecting the house from tricksters!” You called out to her, grabbing your jacket and black, cross body, boho bag as you headed out the door.

You were about to unlock your car, when another pulled up at the bottom of the driveway, a matte black Cadillac Lyriq, and a man in a classy, black suit stepped out of the driver's seat, casting his eyes around as if to make sure he had the right address, before settling them on you.

“Are you the young lady that lives here?” He asked, motioning to the two-story house you lived in with Maggie, positioned on a cliff that gave the two of you access to your own private sandy beach on the LA coast.

“One of them.” You answered, narrowing your eyes at him suspiciously. “Can I help you?”

“Yeah.” He nodded, going into the inside pocket of his jacket to pull out a small, black card and approached you with it held out. “I was told to give you this, then take you downtown.”

Taking the card from him, you read the gilded, blood-red lettering on it: 'My love, please allow me to treat you on this night together. My driver, Marco, will ensure you arrive safely, so we may enjoy our spooky festivities.'

“A lot of cloak and dagger going on with your employer.” You smirked at Marco, touched and amused, as you tucked the card into your bag.

Marco smirked and nodded his head. “Yes, he's having a good time with it. But he's quite eager to meet up with you.” He chuckled, offering his arm to you as you started down the slightly sloped driveway and ushered you to the back passenger-side door, opening it and handing you inside.

You settled in the backseat, pulling your mobile from your bag and texted Maggie. He sent me a chauffeur.

Maggie: Fancy!

During the drive, you snapped some photos of yourself, posting them on your Instagram, wishing everyone; family, friends and fans alike, a happy Halloween before pocketing it and glancing out the window. The quiet hills you lived in, dotted with beautiful homes, started to fall away for the speed and lights of downtown Los Angeles. Traffic thickened, forcing Marco to slow the Cadillac down until it stopped several cars behind a red light.

“Are you allowed to tell me where we're going?” You asked, leaning forward between the front seats. “Or is that to remain a secret?” You smirked as Marco glanced sideways at you.

“I am sworn to secrecy, my lady.” He smirked, winked and got the car rolling again.

Marco drove you across LA to the posh side of the City of Angels, where all of the famous people called home or a vacation getaway. He maneuvered the winding road, until pulling up to a towering, black ornate gate, pausing to enter the pass code, rolling the gate back and permitting you.

“Wow.” You uttered, eyes popping and mouth dropping, seeing the enormous mansion with a circle driveway and bubbling fountain, as you leaned even further between the seats, craning your neck to look out the front window.

It was elaborately decorated; nothing was left for the imagination with its decorations, and it was clear the owner of the home had no issue spending the money on their expenses. Pumpkin lights lined the driveway, the windows at the front of the house were backlit and flickering back and forth between orange and green, with vast and long threads of spiderwebs and cobwebs over them. There were hanging ghosts and skeletons in the trees, an extensive graveyard to one side, with body parts poking out of the mock graves. Everywhere you looked, something caught your eye, impressing you more and more.

“He really went all out.” You chuckled, as Marco stopped at the front door, the stairs leading up to the double doors flanked by massive gargoyles with glowing red eyes.

“Oh, this isn't his home.” Marco answered, releasing his seatbelt. “This is the home of a colleague. He was given an invitation to attend their party here and it had a plus one on it. So, he asked you to join him.” He explained, getting out of the car and opening your door.

“Ah.” You blinked, confused as you took his hand and slipped out of the car, met with a thump of distant music and festivities. “So, how am I supposed to meet my date?” You asked, lifting a brow at him.

“Go inside,” Marco said, motioning to the doors. “The butler at the door will ask you for the code word. It's 'Beetlejuice'. Once you've been admitted, ask them to show you to Lucifer's room.”

“Lucifer?” You purred, amused.

“Yes, ma'am.” He chuckled, nodding. “With that, I wish you a good evening and a happy Halloween.” He said, kissing your hand and getting back into the car.

“Cloak and Dagger much?” You snorted and made your way up the steps. “Oh Christ!” You yelped, as the gargoyles on either side of you came to life, roaring and turning their heads towards you, dropping their bottom jaws open. “Rude.” You panted, composing yourself as the front doors swung open, letting out a flow of music and murmur of voices from inside, and revealing a man dressed as a zombie-butler.

“Madam.” He regarded you, with a thick Scottish accent. “Are you here for the party?”

“I am.” You answered him, making it to the top of the stairs. “I believe the password is, Beetlejuice.”

He bowed his painted face. “Correct.” He turned and lifted a hand to usher you inside. “Please, come in. I'm Mr. Davison, should you require anything during your stay here, please find me.” He told you, closing the doors as the two of you stepped into a grand foyer, two twisting staircases on either side, leading up to a landing on the second floor. On the ground floor were three hallways, one straight ahead between the staircases, where you could see flashing lights with the bump and sway of bodies, and two hallways on either side of you.

“There is one thing you can help with, Mr. Davison.” You said over the noise, turning to face him. “I'm actually a plus one to an invited guest of this party. I was told by the driver my date sent to bring me, to ask to be shown to Lucifer's room.” You explained to him, biting your painted lip, while studying his gray, black and bloody face, butterflies filling your stomach. “Whomever Lucifer is, since he's been secretive about his identity since asking me out.”

Davison smirked, his dark eyes dancing with amusement, clearly knowing who your date and Lucifer was. “Of course, right this way.” He said, before guiding you up the left staircase.

You could feel the vibration of music through the floor as you followed him down the decorated hallway. Each door on either side decorated a different theme, such as Jack and Sally from Nightmare Before Christmas, Jason's mask and bloody machete from Friday the 13th, a Gothic door with an image of Bela Lugosi from Dracula and the doll, Jigsaw, from SAW. Davison stopped before a door, it was red with the silhouette of a pair of angel wings and a flaming halo with black horns.

“Lucifer.” You mumbled to yourself, watching Davison knock loud enough to be heard above the noise of the party, you were distracted by the zombie-butler stepping aside, as the door opened and revealed your date.

“You made it!” They declared to them, excited and relieved that you had come.

“Of course!” You answered, finally looking up at him, only to have your mouth drop open.

Standing before you in a stylish pair of black slacks, a matching vest over a light-gray dress shirt, the first few buttons undone and the long sleeves rolled up his forearms. At first, it wasn't much of an impressive costume, until you studied his face, he wore a touch of black eye-liner, that was slightly smudged, and poised on his forehead was a pair of glue-on horns, well blended in to match his skin color with at touch of red, as if it was a pain for him to have horns breaking through his otherwise angelic appearance.

“Henry!” You squeaked, surprised to see the Brit standing there, imitating Lucifer Morningstar from the DC comic and hit tv show.

“Hey.” He grinned, moving forward and hugging you. “You look great!” He said, stepping back again to look over your Harley Quinn costume, loving the gold, argyle overalls, pink sports bra, pink and blue hair and make-up. “You nailed Harley.” He commented, meeting your eyes again, finally noticing your surprise that he was the one that asked you out. “Oh.” He blushed, carding a hand through his hair.

“Right, I suppose I should explain myself. Why don't you come in?” He suggested stepping aside so you could enter the room. “Do you want something to drink? Davison can get you something.” He said, looking between you and the butler. “Anything you want.”

“We have several Halloween themed cocktails, wines, whiskey and such.” Davison told you, reappearing before the door.

“I'll have one of your cocktails.” You answered, with a small nod. “I'll leave that to your recommendation.”

“I would appreciate a refill as well, Davison.” Henry added in, with a polite nod.

“I'll bring them, presently.” He nodded back, and started downstairs.

“So, you're my date.” You said, entering the room with Henry, finding it was a sitting room that led into a bedroom.

“I am.” Henry smirked, closing the door. “I hope you're not...disappointed.” He said, looking at you with blue eyes that truly wished you weren't.

“I'm not at all disappointed.” You assured him, offering him a sweet smile. “Just surprised.” You confessed to him, pressing your lips together. “We had a couple interactions during the filming of Mission Impossible, but I wouldn't have guessed enough for you to notice me and to ask me out on a mysterious date to a high end LA party.”

“Oh, I noticed you the moment we were in the same room together.” He told you the truth of his feelings for you all over his face. “I tried drumming up the courage to ask you out so many times in those three months. I just kept chickening out, because I didn't think you'd say yes or be interested. So, when my friend sent me an invitation to his party here, you were my first thought on who to bring. But, again, I didn't think you'd say yes. Especially after we hadn't seen each other in a couple months. However, he suggested I send you a note asking you to come and send my driver to pick you up, to see what would happen.”

“You think I would say no to you?” You frowned at him, your brow pinching. “God, I would have said yes in a heartbeat.” You blurted out, shamelessly. “I admit, I wasn't going to come. I was suspicious about the motives and a little worried that it was set up by my stalker.”

Henry's face went blank for a moment, before it filled with worry and how stupid he felt. “I am so sorry. I didn't know you had a stalker, or I would have never been so secretive. I would have just asked you out right. I hope I didn't put you through any anxiety.”

You chuckled at him, shaking your head. “No, you didn't.” You assured him, waving it off. “You just set off my protective roommate, Maggie, who I should probably text and tell who my mystery man is, at some point.” You said, finding the whole thing amusing now.

There was a knock on the door and Davison came in with a small platter holding your and Henry's drinks, a skeleton hand wine-glass with a red shimmer liquid and a black substance around the rim. Beside that was Henry's squat glass of whiskey on the rocks, the ice shaped like a bone.

“Your Vampire's Kiss.” Davison said, as you took your glass. “Spiced rum, Cran-Grape juice, Grenadine and black sanding sugar.” He listed off the ingredients as you took a careful sip.

“Mmm.” You moaned, nodding your head. “Positively enchanting, thank you.”

“My pleasure.” He smiled, tucking the platter under his arm. “Enjoy your evening and the festivities.” He bid you and Henry, then saw himself out.

“Well, would you like to look around?” Henry asked, swilling his drink. “There's dancing and a bar downstairs and I've been told the backyard of the house has quite the surprise.”

“I'm not much for dancing.” You confessed, a shy smile crossing your face.

Henry looked a tad relieved at your words. “That's more than fine. I'm not either.” He chuckled, glancing down into the amber liquid in his glass. “The backyard then?”

“The backyard.” You nodded, smirking with an excited giddiness.

Nodding, Henry polished off his drink and set it on a small coffee table that was in the sitting room. You finished yours and put it beside his, then dropped your bag on the floor under the table. Henry opened the door, letting you enter the thrumming hallway first and followed, taking a key out of his pocket and locked the door behind you both.

“Worried about something?” You inquired, as he pocketed the key again.

“No.” He answered, shaking his head with a blank expression. “Better safe than sorry, I suppose.” He admitted, pressing his hand over the key. “Anyway, let's find out what's in the backyard.” He smiled, offering his hand out to you.

“If it's as good as the rest of the decorations I've seen, it'll be great.” You smiled back, taking his hand.

The two of you descended the spiral staircase you'd come up earlier, Henry paused and looked towards the hallway that led into the room where all the dancing was occurring, then looked at you.

“It's a little warm in here.” He said, even though it was cool in the foyer. “Why don't we go out the front and walk around the side?” He suggested, with an arched brow.

“Sounds fine to me.” You nodded, content with not going through the press of bodies on the dance floor to make it to the backyard.

Giving you a wink, Henry shifted your hand to his forearm and walked you to the entry, nodding to Davison. “We'd like to take a little stroll.” He informed the man, who nodded back and pulled open the double doors for you. “Thank you kindly.”

“So, are you in LA only for the party?” You asked as the two of you went down the steps, while mentally preparing yourself not to get frightened by the gargoyles again.

“No.” Henry chuckled, glancing away from you with a bashful smirk. “I just finished filming a movie in England. The first Enola Holmes movie, where I play Sherlock Holmes.” He explained, looking left and right for a moment, before guiding you towards the left. “I came out here after I finished, to take a little vacation, and suppose they heard I was in town and invited me.”

“A vacation, is that all?” You smirked at him, having a sneaking suspicion the Brit may have had an extra motive for coming out.

“Well,” He droned, rolling his eyes with a guilty smirk. “There may have been a certain lady I hoped to catch up with, while I was in the city.” He confessed, shooting you a glance from the corner of his eye. “Thankfully for me, I had the opportunity to.”

“Mmm, yes.” You nodded, cocking a brow at him and pressing your lips together. “Lucky for you.”

He patted your hand and grinned with boy-ish pride. “He really went all out for decor.” He commented, rounding the corner with you, to get met with tall, manicured hedges covered in webs and skeletons trying to break through and coming at you. The entryway cut into the hedges was covered with chains, obscuring your view of what was on the other side.

“That he did.” You agreed, twisting to look at the graveyard behind you. “I really like that makeshift graveyard over there. Very fright night.” You commented, rather eager to see what Henry's friend had down in their backyard. “Let's go in!” You giggled, moving towards the chain-cover entrance, your hand slipping down Henry's forearm, until you caught his hand and could pull him through after you.

Chuckling, Henry let you drag him into the side yard, finding scarecrows on either side, a bloody butcher's knife through the body of one as it rested on a cross of thin wooden poles and the another hung from the branch of a tree, swaying in the gentle, evening breeze. There were a few more graves, lining the path, leading towards the back of the house.

“Declan Hunley.” You read one of the grave markers. “Born 1879, dead 1910, killed for not looking behind him.” You frowned and looked up at Henry. “That's a weird mess-” You shrieked as the grave on the other side of the path burst open to reveal a gnarled zombie crawling out, growling and hissing, as you scrambled behind Henry in your terror.

Henry's heart rocked in his chest in surprise, instinctively putting an arm out between you and the flesh-eating monster. But a smile soon crossed his lips, guiding you around the zombie, who made decent grabs at your ankles, however made no attempt to crawl out of his grave to follow after you.

“Oh my gosh.” You panted, brushing your multi-colored hair out of your face, with shaking hands.

“It's all right.” Henry cooed, resting his hand on the small of your back, rubbing gentle circles. “I think he's still snacking on poor Declan.” He quipped, smirking at you.

You managed to laugh a little bit, your heart rate slowing down and collecting yourself. “Well, we know what the tombstone meant.” You sighed, shaking your head, feeling foolish for falling for it. “Suckered me.” You chuckled, then cast your eyes out over the backyard. “Oh wow.” You mumbled, eyes widening as your mouth dropped agape.

Henry turned and his brows went up. “Damn. I'll hand it to him, he didn't spare a shilling for all of this.” He commented, taking in the immaculate backyard.

The three sets of double doors leading out from where the dancing and bar was set up were open and brought out the sound of voices and music with them. There was a trickle of people on the patio, which was lit by standing torches of orange, green and red. Sitting on the furniture or huddled around the couple of blazing fire pits, were a few hired staff helping them roast marshmallows for S'mores or brew hot chocolate. Beyond the patio, were tall hedges and party-goers funneling into the opening, stopped only by someone at the entrance, before vanishing into the dark and glowing fog.

“I wonder what they're doing?” You muttered to yourself, brow creasing with curiosity.

“We can find out, if you want?” Henry said beside you, his head cocking to the side to see your face.

“Let's go!” You smiled, clapping your hands and dashing forward.

Henry laughed, amused and touched at your enthusiasm, before following after you. You were stopped at the entrance of the mysterious attraction by a man dressed up in a torn and bloody lab coat. A tall fridge with a clear door stood beside him, filled with green, red and blue test tubes.

“Beware!” The bedraggled doctor wheezed, reaching out to prevent you and Henry from going any further. “There's a deadly pathogen inside the maze!” He panted, looking back and forth between the two of you frantically; as if you had the cure and answer.

“Oh no!” You gasped back at him, bringing a hand to your chest, dramatically, making Henry snort behind you. “It sounds terrible!” You whimpered, trying to hold back a giggle.

“It is!” He agreed, not breaking character, while pulling open the fridge door. “There's only one way to make it through, without succumbing to the pathogen. It's by taking this antidote.” He waved a hand over the display, before taking two out and handing you a red tube and Henry, the blue.

The label on your tube told you the antidote was made from white rum and cherry liqueur, while Henry's was made of Curaçao and SVEDKA, blue raspberry flavored vodka. Uncapping and tossing the red antidote back, the chilled liquid burned down your throat into your stomach, and finally out through your veins. Mixing with the wine you had in Henry's room. Drinking down his own antidote and tossing the empty tube in the provided bin, the doctor finally let you pass. Entering the foggy maze, constructed out of the manicured hedges, stone planters with beautiful and exotic flowers. There were LED lights tucked into the dense and dark-green leaves, flickering in an off-rhythm, giving the already dark and close passages a disorienting feel.

“This is so cool!” You giggled, bouncing on your toes and turning back to look at Henry, who walked close behind you.

“Yeah, it is.” He agreed, glancing behind him, hearing a screech that was all too human, from somewhere else in the maze. “He really went all out for Halloween.” He looked back to you and smiled, finding the two of you had come to a three way.

“Which way should we go?” You asked, looking around, before looking at Henry.

“Hmm.” He hummed, glancing about, then smirked at you. “This way.” He said, jerking his head to the left, taking your hand and led you down the footpath.

“Do you know where you're going?” You asked, frowning at his back.

“I might.” Henry answered, casting a teasing glance over his shoulder.

“Shady Devil.” You teased, smirking at him.

After a couple twists and turns, the two of you came to a dead end that was adorned with a massive marble statue of a half-naked archer, shooting her arrow into the skies and a bench at her feet. There was a square lantern hanging from the tip of the Archer's arrow and two on the bench, casting an eerie, flickering, orange glow in the dark mist that surrounded you. But you were apprehensive about the skeleton sitting on the bench with them.

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. But fool me three times, screw that! You thought, eyeing it. But the flickering light and swirl of fog played tricks on you, making it difficult to tell if the skeleton was twitching or not.

“I don't trust it.” You said aloud, and Henry's chuckle filled the enchanted space.

“I wouldn't blame you, love.” He admitted, cautious himself about the authenticity of the skeleton, however taking a gallant step forward to find out. “I think the poor chap died of whatever pathogen is in the maze though.” He quipped, making himself laugh and you rolled your eyes, amused. Reaching the skeleton without it jumping out at him, Henry put his hand on top of its cranium and gave it a gentle shake, causing the rest of the body to rattle on the bench, revealing it to be a prop.

“We're safe from another scare.” Henry declared, picking it up and setting it aside, making room for the two of you to sit down together. “I am really glad you came.” He said, as you sat down beside him. “I know I already said it, but I am.”

“I'm really happy that I came as well.” You smiled at him, feeling the heat already in your cheeks from your alcohol consumption increase, but the cool night helped keep it under control.

Henry grinned, giddy to hear it. “Kal really missed you, after you finished filming your scenes in Norway.” He confessed, chuckling as he fussed with the skull fob on the end of a pocket watch chain he had attached to the front of his vest.

“Oh, Kal missed me, did he?” You purred, amused.

“Yeah, Kal.” He nodded, glancing up at you, his blue eyes dark and holding a gaze that sent a shiver down your back. “Are you cold?” He asked, a playful and coy smirk curling up one corner of his mouth as he moved a little closer to you, offering the warmth of his body.

“I'm either cold or the pathogen is setting in.” You sighed softly, biting your lower lip and tucking yourself into his side, a quiet moan escaping your throat as the weight of Henry's strong arm slotted around your shoulders.

It was all of sudden that you were aware of how close Henry's mouth was to yours, his eyes still trained on your face, waiting—watching—for your reaction. Were you going to push him away or were you going to let him go all the way?

Screw it!

You leaned forward and locked lips with him, feeling Henry smile for a moment before meeting your kiss. His palm moved to cup your nape, fingers curling into your hair and nails grazing your scalp, ever so lightly, drawing another shiver out of you. Henry's other hand moved around to your hip and tugged you closer to him, all but pulling you into his lap. The kiss is slow and easy at first, feeling each other out, testing the waters to see if it was right. Then, as if your minds connected like Bluetooth, the embrace became hungry. Fingers slipped into the armholes of his vest and your back straightened as you made little tugs on the soft fabric, needing to feel him closer against you.

“Henry.” You whimpered into his mouth, lashes fluttering open, hearing his breathing deepen, watching and feeling his chest heave.

His lips brushed yours, the warm puffs of his pants caressing your face as his eyes bored into yours, arms dropping around your waist and squeezing you against his rigid body. He felt the same longing that showed in your eyes, and wanted nothing more than to fulfill it. His palms moved up your back and made for the straps of your overalls, shoving one off your shoulders and unclasping the other. Leaning away for the zipper in the middle, unzip it, making it fall off your shoulders completely, to gather around your waist, giving Henry a nice peek at the black lace, bikini panties you were wearing.

“Mmm.” He hummed, smirking at you with half lidded eyes. “Not shorts?” He rasped, tracing the tip of his finger along the wavy edge, before giving the waistband a playful pop.

You felt a slight heat of embarrassment in the pit of your stomach, but your expression was bashful. “Didn't expect any fallen Angels to sneak a peek down my overalls.” You quipped, playfully pushing a button at the top of his vest open.

“It was far too tempting.” Henry murmured, leaning in to kiss you once more, while his hand caressed your bare side, your skin dancing at the feather light contact, before it grazed the waistband of your panties.

Pausing, he meets your eyes once more, seeking permission. You answered it with a nip at his bottom lip and went in for another heated and heady kiss. With an amused rumble, Henry pushed his hand beyond the barrier, drawing out the magical sound against his mouth, when his fingertips dusted over your throbbing clit. He teased you, only giving you the lightest of touch, as if a ghost was tormenting you from the great beyond. Hands moving to the last three buttons of Henry's vest, you opened his dress shirt and pushed your hands inside of it, finding the burning and hard packed muscles he worked so hard on, every day, dusted with dark hair. You lightly dragged your blue, red and white painted nails down his chest; Henry growled and let out a sharp hiss, giving you a narrow-eyed look.

“Oh!” A voice rang out, before Henry could repay your action. “I am so sorry!”

Almost all of your arousal vanished, you quickly fixed your clothing and tried to act as casual as possible but struggled to meet the other party-goer's eyes. Henry on the other hand, had little qualms, having embodied his costume's entity.

“That's quite all right.” He chuckled, not bothering to button his open shirt, showing off his bare chest and nail marks. “Wrong turns happen.” He smirked, his face morphing into this delighted, sinister expression.

“Yeah, this place is a serious maze.” The man, dressed as a Roman soldier, answered, his startled eyes still moving back and forth between you.

“It is.” Henry nodded, his tone hinting for him to go on his way. “There's many more dead ends like this one, I'm sure you'll find.”

Blinking, then finally getting it, the Roman soldier turned and vanished into the fog and dark of the maze, leaving you and Henry once again alone.

“Well, that was interesting.” He laughed, looking back to you, finally buttoning his shirt.

“Yeah, you can say that.” You answered with a half-hearted laugh.

Biting his lip, feeling the mood had been destroyed and sighed softly. “You want to finish the maze?” He asked, offering you a smile, brows lifted in question. “Or we could go back inside?” He added, brow creasing a little.

You balanced the options, seeing the rest of the maze and what was at the end intrigued you, but finishing what you and Henry started was still a rage inferno between your thighs. “I think it's a bit too nippy out here for what I have on.” You answered, licking your lip and eyeing Henry.

“You know,” He replied, glancing thoughtfully. “I believe you're right.” He said, giving a soft shiver himself, his massive shoulders quaking. “Let's go back inside.” He cooed, fixing his vest and standing to offer you his arm.

Taking it, you retraced your steps back to the start of the maze, nodding to the Mad Doctor, who was restocking the antidotes, quickly moved by the grave with the awaiting zombie at the side of the house, and were met yet again by Davison at the door, as he opened them to greet you.

“I hope you found the attractions and festivities to your liking?” He inquired, shutting the doors behind you.

“We did.” Henry nodded, smiling at you. “He went all out for his Halloween party. It's quite amazing.”

“Yeah, it's gotten my heart beat up several times.” You chuckled, smiling back. “Not a party I'll forget.” “I'm pleased to hear it, and so will he.” Davison smiled, pleased.

“We're going to retire upstairs for a bit.” Henry informed him with a wink, leading you towards the staircase. “Have a good evening, Davis.”

“And you.” He called back.

“No.” He chuckled, smiling down at his bare feet. “It is rare. But this isn't really an occasion to bring him along. So, I left him with a good friend.”

“Mmm.” You hummed, leaning back against the bed's footboard to unlace your shoes. “I suppose not.” You agreed, flexing your toes and glancing up at him. “You want to help me?” You asked, gesturing to your overalls. “You seemed quite the expert out in the maze.” You quipped, impishly.

Pursing his lips and giving you a hungry look, Henry strode forward, closing the gap between you easily with his long legs, and took the zipper between his fingers again, but now, he took his time. You watched him work the clasp gently down the molten-gold fabric, revealing more and more of you as it reached its end, between your legs. Henry smirked at your panties, discovering they were not only sheer, but sported a nice, growing wet patch.

“Do you like it when I touch you?” He asked in a breath voice, nimble fingers moving to your straps, caressing the skin beneath it, before flicking it open, the overalls slipping to one side.

“You don't see me stopping you, do you?” You quipped back, as the last strap fell from your shoulder and your outfit started to slip down your body.

He shook his head, hands moving up to the buttons of his shirt, but your hand came up to brush them aside, intent on doing that yourself. Pushing each black button through their hole with painstaking care, knowing Henry was impatient about picking up where you left off outside. You moaned softly, tugging the tucked in fabric from the waistband of his pants and pushing his shirt off his shoulders and arms. You were slow to pull his belt free of their loops, admiring the growing bulge at the front of his slacks. With his belt free, you curled your fingers around the waistband of his pants and boxer briefs, only to be stopped by Henry's hands grasping your wrists.

“What?” You frowned, looking up at him.

“Top.” He answered, motioning to it with his head. “Off.”

“I think I'm a little more naked than you are.” You stated, raising a brow at him.

“I'll be naked the moment you pull my pants and underwear down.” He countered with a smirk.

You took a deep breath, then nodded. “Fair.” You chuckled, pulling your hands away to remove your pink sports bra. “Better, you devil?” You teased, tossing the article of clothing over his head.

“Much, my little joker.” He rasped, cupping one of your breasts in his hand and rubbing its hardened nub with the pad of his thumb. “You can finish your task now.” He said, leaning in to kiss you.

“Mm, thanks.” You mumbled against his mouth, hands blindly finding their way back to his waist, tugging at it, and trying not to be distracted by his lips and hands working their magic on you. “Bat above, you're evil.” You whimpered to the pinch he gave your breast, sending a tingle to your still clothed clit. Henry turned his head, lips brushing the helix of your ear. “I'm not Lucifer for nothing, my dear.” He whispered, allowing his accent to dip and deepen.

Your knees weakened and you let out a breathy whimper. “Good lord.” You gulped, grasping the back of his arms for support.

“I'd rather keep his name to a minimum.” Henry quipped, with a playful attempt at a wink.

“Classic.” You giggled, tilting your head back to brush your lips against his stubbly jaw. “Apologies, Prince of Darkness.” You teased, hand trailing down his torso to his semi-hard cock, closing your fingers around the heated flesh.

Henry hissed in your ear, hooked an arm around your waist and snagged you against him, lifting you off your feet and moving around to the side of the bed, setting you down on it. He paused for a moment, to turn out the lights, then joined you again, where you had fixed yourself correctly on the comfortable mattress and about to slip your undies off.

“No.” He rumbled, slipping between your legs and gently pushing your hands away. “Those are mine.” He informed you, taking a hold of the delicate fabric and started to slip them off. “Oh, you smell so tasty.” He cooed, catching a whiff of your glistening folds, tossing your panties aside and leaning closer with a lick of his lips.

Gulping, you melted back against the pillows as Henry's mouth closed around your slick, vibrating your sensitive need with a rumble of carnal lust. You pawed at the duvet beneath you, rolling your hips against his working mouth, tongue parting your folds to collect the dripping nectar flowing from your cavern. You whimpered and squeezed your thighs against his head, feeling his horns brush your heated and trembling skin, building the numb and tingling sensation at the pit of your stomach.

“Oh, Henry!” You whimpered, a hand moving into the curls at the back of his head. “Oh, plea-fuck!” You cried out, back arching as Henry pressed two heavy fingers onto your swollen pearl, rubbing at it in a rhythm to his mouth and drawing you over the edge swiftly.

Blinded by your orgasm, you didn't notice the figure entering the room with you and Henry for a moment. But caught the moving shape at the foot of the bed, slowly coming down and through your blurred vision, it paused, before shifting to the chair in the corner.

“Henry.” You panted, the heightening tone of alarm in your voice.

“Ssshh.” He hushed you, slowly kissing his way up your seething body until his face was nuzzled between the valley of your bosom, tasting the thin layer of exertion on your burning skin. “It's all right, love.” He heaved, his breath raising goose flesh in its wake.

“But-” You started to protest, shaking your head and trying to focus on the figure seated in the corner, feeling their eyes on you. “There's some-” You tried to warn him breathily, as his mouth encompassed one of your breasts. “Someone's in-”

“I know.” He moaned around your taut areola, before tilting his head for a second to glance at your strange guest. “It's just Gus.” He purred, a naughty smile on his lips and returned back to his worship of your body.

“August?” You whimpered, brows furrowing at his name and Henry's intent suckling. “Henry.” You sighed, eyes fluttering shut and hands pressing to Henry's broad back, letting go and getting washed away with the moment.

Smiling from his vantage point in the corner, the chair angled just right, August watched you and Henry in bed. He knew the two of you, having worked on a couple projects with Henry over the years and met you during the filming of Fall Out. When Henry told him he intended to ask you to the party, his interest and intrigue was set into motion, intent on having some of you for himself, informing Henry of this, and having Davison keep a close eye on you and Henry. So, upon hearing the two of you had been found canoodling in the maze, then scampering back upstairs to Henry's room, Davison rushed to find his boss and informed him that love was in the air between the two of you.

August left where he was entertaining in his study and moved upstairs to Henry's room, using a master key he had for every room on his estate and slipped into the darkened room, like a stealthy panther stalking its prey. Removing and turning off his light up Purge mask, he found you sprawled out on the bed, whimpering Henry's name, while his skillful mouth ate you out, like it was one of the Brit's decadent cheat meals. Hovering in the doorway between the sitting room and the bedroom, waiting—watching...you slip off the cliff of your orgasm, crying out and writhing as you fell; then moved to the bottom of the bed, to reach out and touch Henry's foot.

Alerting him that he had shown up.

He repressed a chuckle, while you tried alerting Henry to his presence, and moved towards the chair, making himself comfortable. But Henry reassured you that it was perfectly all right. It was just your good friend, August, in the room with you, and you had no reason to fret. He opened the front of his rough and semi-black jeans, lifting his hips off the chair just enough to push his pants and briefs down, allowing his rigid cock to spring free of the tight confines and rest heavily against the white dress shirt he had on. He closed his fist around the slick head of his shaft, a deep rumbling moan boiled in his throat as he slowly started to stroke himself, eyes locked on you and Henry intertwining together in bed.

Your quivering legs locked loosely around his thick thighs, while Henry's mouth was like a suction cup against the column of your throat, working in tandem to his steely manhood rubbing against your heated folds, coating the taut and veiny flesh with your sweet essence. Your quiet whimpers and mewls spurred on both men, putting cracks in August's usual calm and controlled demeanor, and pushed Henry to impatience, struggling with his will to warm you up, before diving deep into you, headfirst.

“Take her.” August rasped, abandoning his cock for a second to open his shirt and toss it aside, not wanting to soil it any more than the few wet spots of pre-come, and returned to pleasuring himself.

Henry snapped a look over his shoulder, face flushed and sweaty. “She's mine, Gus.” He hissed at the other man, eyes a dark cobalt with lust and feeling territorial.

“I belong to no one!” You wheezed, dizzy and drunk from Henry's attention.

A smirk pulled across both men's lips, and Henry looked down at you, brushing damp and colorful strands of hair off your sweaty forehead and placing a gentle kiss to the bridge of your nose.

“Of course, my love.” He cooed at you, stroking the side of your face with the back of his fingers. “We know you don't.” He said, kissing the corner of your mouth. “My apologies.” He whispered against your lips.

You sighed against his mouth and shook your head again, lifting your heavy arms to tangle your fingers into his hair. “I want you.” You murmured, nudging your nose against his, legs squeezing his to pull him in closer. “Please, Henry.” You gulped, eyes fluttering open to gaze up at him.

“As you wish.” He replied quietly, pulling back slightly and slipping a hand between your bodies, grasping and stroking himself for a moment, before lining his weeping, heart-shaped tip with your glistening honeypot. “Oh god, you're so snug, Bug.” He purred, easing himself in, bit by bit, as he leaned back over you, bracing himself on his elbows, loving how you wrapped around him.

“Shit.” August grunted, fixated on Henry entering you, your folds sealing around his girth like a tailor-made glove, while trying to picture his own manhood in its place, squeezing his shaft in an attempt to replicate it.

Henry's thrusts were short and measured, rocking into you with an easy pace, almost matching the beat of the music that was bleeding through the floor downstairs. It was both what you wanted and also drove you nuts, wanting him to drive you through the bed, to turn your insides to pudding. You rocked your hips in-tune to his, one hand clawing down his sweat drenched back to dig into the meat of his bum and thrust your other hand between your bodies to find your neglected clit.

“Don't you dare come.” Henry growled at you, pressing his body down on yours, trapping you against the mattress and immobilizing your hand from pleasuring yourself. “Not without me.” He panted, holding your gaze.

You were caught off guard for a moment, before arching an amused brow at him. “Fine.” You smirked, giving him a nice pat on the butt.

“Good girl.” He purred, capturing your lips and shifting his weight again, enabling you to stroke your pulsing clit, toes curling and walls quaking around Henry's cock, milking it. “How are you doing over there, Gus?” He chuckled, shooting the American a glance over his shoulder.

“Could be better.” August grunted back, slumped a little in his seat, working his cock as he continued to watch, the sound of Henry's cock moving inside of you filled the room with your soft whimpers and moans, it was like a perfect orchestra to his ears, making his balls tight, but he still wanted you for himself.

Henry brought his lips to your ear. “He's jealous.” He whispered in a roguish tone.

“Mmm.” You moaned back, half listening to what either of them were saying, drunk on the feeling of Henry inside of you and the pressure you were applying to your tender pearl, drenching you both even more to create a wet spot on the bed sheet beneath.

“She's getting fucked out.” August smirked, hearing your numb moans. “And you haven't even let her come again.” He chuckled, using his free hand to massage his heavy sack, growling deep in his chest and pressing his head against the back of the chair.

Henry felt his own loins tingle and spasm, begging to be unloaded inside your tight, hot core, which only drew him in with each thrust, attempting to hold him inside for your own salvation. Henry groaned, thrusting forward and almost losing himself to the pressure.

“I can't hold back anymore, Hen.” You mewled up at him, breathless and spent. “Please.”

“Me neither, love.” He sighed back, nuzzling the side of your sweaty neck for a moment, before slowly slipping free. “You wanna come with me, babe?” He panted, pulling up on his knees, but kept one elbow braced beside your head.

Moving a hand between your heaving bodies, Henry gently shoved aside your sluggishly moving hand from your mound, bringing it to his mouth and gently sucked on your honey saturated fingers, savoring the heady taste. With your hand clean, Henry took a hold of himself, stroking his length and rubbing his tip against your overstimulated folds at the same time, drawing out soft whimpers and moans. Your hands kneaded his sides, while you twitched and quivered beneath him, eyes fluttering in the back of your lids with streaks to tears going down your temples.

“Oh...Henry!” You hiccupped in short gasps, licking your parched lips. “I'm-m s-so c-close!” You gulped, nudging your face against his, blindly seeking his lips.

“I am too, love.” He wheezed back, increasing the friction. “Come with me.” He whispered, meeting your lips in a breathless kiss.

It was easy, with how close the pair of you were, so you just let go. Gushing over Henry's cock and drenching the sheets even more, while Henry jerked rope after rope of his hot seed over your glistening folds and heaving stomach, making your skin sticky with each expulsion of his loins. August watched with concupiscent awe, biting into his bottom lip and digging a shoe heel into the expensive rug at his feet, as his own orgasm peaked, flowing over his jerking fist and staining the black fabric of his jeans.

You, Henry and August let out a collective sigh as your climax waned. Henry's weary arms snaked around your body, while his body slowly tilted sideways, collapsing onto the mattress with an exhausted grunt and holding you to his chest. Sighing against his collarbone, your eyes fluttering shut, spent and sedated.

A touch to your back told you, you'd fallen asleep, stirring you back to the world of the living and from the warm bubble of Henry's body. Expecting to see Henry staring at you, you opened your eyes to his sleeping face and the deep puffs of his snores.

“Right here, gorgeous.” A deep timber whispered into your ear.

Turning your head, your eyes met August's, he was leaning over you, a smile plastered on his handsome face, and his hand still stroking the length of your back. “Gus?” You mumbled, sleepily blinking up at him.

August tapped a finger to his lips and cast his eyes to Henry. “Ssshh, don't wake him, sweetheart.” He cooed at you, sweetly. “He needs his rest.” He told you, before helping you carefully untangle from Henry's embrace and sit up on the edge of the bed.

“What are you doing, August?” You asked, looking up at him, even though you had your suspicions.

“Helping you clean up.” He answered, dipping his hand to your stomach, reminding you of Henry's dried release, that was still there. “I started a nice, warm shower for you.” He explained, taking your hands in his and pulled you to your feet, stretching your sore muscles.

“Sure, Gus.” You giggled, letting him guide you around the bed and into the bathroom, the sound of falling water filling your ears and blanket of warm steam wrapping around you as it filled the space. “You're only helping, so you can have your chance.” You smirked, not so out of it during your lovemaking with Henry to forget August's jealousy he was missing out.

August laughed, unconcerned of sound now that the door was closed. “So perceptive of you, Sugar.” He smirked, opening the door of the shower stall for you. “Unless you'd rather I leave you and Henry be.” He added, as you entered the shower, cocking a brow at you.

“Hmm.” You hummed, stepping under the pleasant spray of the showerhead, letting the water wash over you, before glancing at August over your shoulder. “Well, it would be a lie, if I said I hadn't thought about what it would be like to be with both of you.” You smirked, eyes dancing with mischief. “And Hen and I already had our fun.”

“You impish, little jester.” August growled, discarding the remains of his clothing and joined you, hugging an arm around your waist and pressing his chest against your back, his mouth finding your neck, the hairs of his immaculate mustache tickling your wet skin.

“Christ, August.” You moaned, his rock-hard manhood pressing against your butt. “I-” Your breath caught in your throat, August's hand closing around your mound, fingers oh-so-delicately caressing your pearl, waking it from its soreness.

“You what, Sugar?” He purred into your ear, nipping at its rim almost painfully. “Tell me.” He insisted, free hand coming up to cup your jaw and pull your back to rest against his shoulder.

“I want you.” You whimpered, chewing on your bottom lip and pushing up on your toes. “Take me, Gus.” You begged him, grinding against his manhood.

Smirking, August took a step forward, until you were trapped between him and the warm, smokey-gray subway tile of the shower wall. He spread your feet and gripped your hip with one hand, grasping his shaft in the other and teased your silky folds, only slipping just his tip between them to rim your passage, loving the feel of your quiver.

“So desperate for me to fill you up.” He chuckled, kneading your hip.

“August, please.” You huffed, still overstimulated from being with Henry and unable to take August's teasing. “Please, I need you inside of me.” You moaned, legs wobbling as he pushed the first half of his manhood into your ruined cavern, your knees almost giving out, had it not been for him and the wall holding you up.

“Stuff me.” You told him, mindlessly.

“I intend too, Sugar.” August smirked, gripping both of your hips and used them as leverage to ease the rest of himself inside of you, still taking his time, despite your continued begs and mewls. “You take me so well, sweetheart.” He panted, once he was settled, engulfed inside your pocket. “Henry did so well, opening you for me.” He chuckled, pressing a palm to the tile above your head and drew almost completely out, then drove back in, hammering into your sweet and sore spot, drawing out a cry from your lips that echoed in the stall.

“August!” You arched your back into his thrusts, cheek pressed against the wall and eyes squeezed shut. “Oh god.” You wheezed, breath fogging the glossy tile. “You feel so good, Gus.” You told him, your voice hardly above the sound of the shower head. “So good.” You mumbled to yourself, nursing your walls around his cock, feeling every ridge and vein as you did and every driving force of him moving inside of you.

“Oh, you're not going to last for me, are you, Sugar?” He cooed, stroking the back of your wet hair and squeezing the nape of your neck. “Just too fucked out.” He hummed, sensing and watching your body tremble as you did your best to fight off your orgasm. “That's all right, princess.” He said, kissing the top of your head and increasing the pace of his thrusts. “Let go.” He instructed you, locking an arm around your waist. “Come all over my cock, gorgeous.” He egged you on, until he felt your body quake and tense, a hot rush around his frenzied shaft.

“There you go, very good.” He praised you, lining kisses over your shoulder and neck, nuzzling his face there as he buried himself deep inside and let loose, pumping his load into your core and painting your walls, unlike Henry.

The two of you stood there for a long time, supporting each other against the shower wall with the water still raining down over you. Until August's skilled ears twitched to a squeak above the patter of water on the hexagon tiles and turned his head. A smirk pulled across his lips as he spied Henry through the clear glass of the shower doors, coming into the bathroom.

“Did we wake you, Hank?” He quipped, as the Brit stepped into the stall with you, a gush of chilly air invading the warm space, making you shiver against August's chest.

“Yes and no.” He replied, dipping his head under the shower head, soaking his curls. “I woke up, when I realized our little Harley Quinn wasn't in bed with me any longer and heard some of your shower fun.” He informed him, shaking his head, to flick the curls out of his face, and moved to stand beside August, looking down at you. “Looks like you're having a nice, little shower, love.” He smirked, seeing the expression of sedated and satisfied exhaustion on your face.

“Mmm.” You hummed back, blinking up at him.

Both men chuckled at you, shaking their heads.

“You look after her, I have to piss.” August told Henry, slipping free of you and eased away, wanting to make sure you didn't fall without his support, before stepping out of the shower to use the toilet.

“Are you all right?” Henry asked, helping you sit down on a built-in, shower bench.

“I'm fine.” You answered, resting back against the wall. “Just didn't expect all of--” You motioned around sluggishly. “This—when I got your mystery invite to the party.”

Henry smirked, grabbing a bath sponge and a bar of vanilla, sandalwood and cardamom soap, from a recess in the shower wall. “That's a fair point.” He nodded, soaping up the sponge and grabbing one of your arms. “In all honesty, I didn't intend this to happen either.” He admitted to you, gently lathering up your skin.

“Well, I did want to be with you. I just didn't expect August to actually join us.”

“The devil made me do it!” August chimed in, coming back into the shower and started to wash. “But I told you, I intended to, if you wooed her.”

“Wooed me!” You huffed, rolling your eyes. “So, the two of you talked about this?”

“Henry needed some prodding in getting the courage to send you the invite.” August informed you, smirking at Henry, who blushed and looked at neither of you. “But we're both quite happy you said yes.”

“That's true.” Henry nodded, moving the sponge across your shoulders, massaging them as he did. “I hope we didn't push you or anything.” He said, biting his lip as he looked you over.

You let out an amused laugh, tipping your head back to look up at the two men, who regarded you. “It's a bit late to be asking that, isn't it?” You inquired, shaking your head, before relaxing and growing serious. “But no, you guys didn't do anything I didn't want or consent to. Even though I was surprised by August sneaking into the room, like some sort of spy.”

Henry and August looked at each other, an expression of acknowledgment between them for a quick moment, before it passed, and they looked away.

“Suppose we should get back to the party.” You said, as Henry finished helping you wash.

“No.” August shook his head and rinsed the shampoo out of his hair. “The party ended a short while ago. The guests that are staying over, are in their rooms and those that weren't, have long been ushered off the property.” He informed you, causally.

“Just us, darling.” Henry winked, moving into August's spot to shower himself, carefully removing his devil horns. “Do you want to stay here with us, or would you rather I call Marco to take you back home?” He asked, cocking a closed eyed brow at you.

You weighed the options, watching Henry wash, water cascading around and along every groove and line of his muscular body, activating a tingle deep in your exhausted and sore body. “No need to bother him so late.” You finally answered, eyes shifting to August, who was grabbing towels.

Showered and dried off, You, Henry and August filed back into the bedroom. August called Davison up with a phone in the sitting room, having him bring up a few bottles of water for you all, which you were thankful for, since you were parched. Quenched, you climbed into bed, burrowing down under the sheets in the middle, while Henry and August got in on either side of you. Henry looped an arm around your waist, snuggling you against his chest and August lounged close to you, on his back, allowing you to reach out and lay your hand on his chest.

“Good night, my love.” Henry whispered, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

“Sleep well, Sugar.” August cooed, patting your hand gently, and kissed your knuckles.

“Good night.” You hummed, letting your fatigue take a hold of you. “Happy...Hallo-ween.” You mumbled, dropping off, happily cocooned between them.

#henry cavill #henrycavill #viking-raider fics #fluff #The Devil Made Me Do It #The Devil Made Me Do It *fic* #Halloween Fic #Kinktober Fic #Kinktober #smut #Harley Quinn Costume #Lucifer Morningstar Costume #Purge Costume #Halloween Party #Fluff #Angst #Alcohol Use #Teasing #Flirting #Henry Cavill x Reader #Henry Cavill x You #henry cavill x y/n #henry cavill x female reader #Henry Cavill x All Types of Readers #Henry Cavill/You #Henry Cavill/Reader #Henry Cavill/Female Reader #Henry Cavill x Fem!Reader #Henry Cavill/Fem!Reader #No body specific body types

[dabislittlemouse]

Vampire Dabi switching between kisses and kiss marks and lil bites all across your body while talking very dirty to you as he tries to shove himself between your legs.

Bonus points if he gets merciful enough to kiss you, because he's trying his best to mark you and not to please you

Omfg- YALL EDGING ME WITH VAMPIRE DABI NOWWWW

𝐕𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐛𝐢 𝐇𝐂𝐬

tw: smut & blood kink, kinktober work or whatever

Vampire!Dabi who is constantly thirsty for you and your sweet blood. He swears no human has ever tasted as good as you do.

Vampire!Dabi who enjoys sinking his teeth on your neck during sex, drinking your blood like a starved man. Though he tries to not overdo it, because he wants you alive and well, all his.

Vampire!Dabi who looooooves eating you out, the taste of your pussy might be his second favorite after your blood. His tongue is unusually long, licking and sucking your clit, slurping your flavour. From time to time he will bite your inner thighs until they bleed, he loves to hear you whimper and scream from the pleasure and pain.

Vampire!Dabi who will specifically eat you out on your period, there is no escape for you as his nails dig in your thighs and his tongue is lapping on your bloody cunt over and over. Your blood mixed with the irresistible flavour of your pussy sends him to ecstasy.

Vampire!Dabi who loves to paint your naked body in crimson, smearing your blood all over your tits and stomach and thighs. Loves to have rough or passionate sex while both your bodies are covered in blood.

Vampire!Dabi who loves how willing you are to give yourself to him, humming in satisfaction as you remove your shirt and let him have full access to your neck.

Vampire!Dabi who grinds his hardened cock against your ass as his arms are wrapped tightly around your body and savours the blood that’s flowing down your neck.

Vampire!Dabi who loves the terror and excitement mixing in your eyes as he shows his sharp fangs at you, licking his lower lip in anticipation before diving in.

Vampire!Dabi who finds it hard to control himself in public while you look so hot and delicious wearing that pretty fucking dress. He gets the urge to slam you on a wall behind an empty alleyway, fuck you senseless while draining you out of blood.

#B.writes #LOOK WHAT YOU DID ANON #uwu #now i be hornee #dabi #touya todoroki #mha dabi #my hero academia #dabi x reader #dabi x you #kinktober #spooky month #kinktober fic #dabi smut #bnha smut #mha smut #bnha x reader #mha x reader

[shamrockqueen]

Pink demon

Pairing : (Pretty in pink series) Hot Neighbor Bucky x Reader

Warnings : R18, oral, smut, slutty costumes, P*rn with a little bit of Plot, licking up cum

Word count : 2853

AO3 link

Kinktober List

Pretty in pink Masterlist

You slid one corner of the heavy cape over your shoulder, taking one last moment to admire the pretty pink latex of your strappy costume. You drop the thick fabric back over top of it so that your little trick can be properly concealed before heading towards the front door.

You’ve made a gamble like this before, but with the loss of home field advantage, the stakes seemed a little higher this time around. But, after the payoff you received last time, you just couldn't resist using the anty.

You readjusted your little plastic devil's horns so that they sat perfectly straight on top of your head, all before grabbing your trick-or-treating bucket and heading for the door.

It was far too late for any trick-or-treaters to still be wandering around, leaving a dark and empty street ahead of you as you turned off your own lights and left your house. You looked out at the nice neighborhood, searching out the still-lit home of your quiet neighbor. His porch lights were off, but the main light in the living room was still bright as ever.

Your heels, also concealed by the silky cloak, clacked along the pavement as you made the journey down the street. The twinkling of the little orange pumpkin lights strung over his porch came into view as you approached his brick steps.

You were a little surprised that he even decorated, as it didn’t seem like him to shop for plastic Jack o'lanterns. Yet as you looked at the goofy decorations, it made him seem all the more sweet to have put in the effort.

After getting up the two steps, you finally made it to the door, pressing the button for the doorbell and fussing with your horns as you waited for the *Ding-Dong* to be answered.

You heard his footsteps before the door came open. He had a large bowl of candy tucked under one arm and a look of surprise lighting up his face.

“Uh, hi. Long time, no see.” He spoke with amusement as he eyed the bright pink devil horns atop your head in contrast to the dark cloth draped over your little body. “What brings you by at this hour?”

“Trick or treat.” You said it with a wide smile as you pulled your hands from under your coat to not only reveal your plastic pumpkin basket but your pink straps and bare skin as well.

The bucket of candy nearly slipped out from under his arm as his eyes widened at the sight of you. In the next second, after tossing the bowl to a side table, he reaches out for your arm to quickly drag you into the house, nearly slamming the door closed behind you.

“What are you doing walking around in something like that?” His tone was more amusing than scolding as he continued to take in what little the cape had revealed so far.

“What, this?” You slipped your fingers under the edge of the cape and slid it over your shoulder so that every strap and zipper were available to be taken in by his hungry eyes.

It was almost too easy. “It’s my costume.”

He was almost choking on any of the words he was trying to get out. His hands move instead, hitting the lock in the door and switching off the main light to signal that the house is done passing out candy.

When he steps closer to you, it’s slower, almost like a predator backing its small prey into a darkened corner. His fingers reach up to untie the little bow of ribbon that held the cape together, letting it fall down your body to pool at your feet.

“You walked all the way here, dressed like this?” His voice sounded so heavy and low that you nearly felt the purr of it in your own chest as it bumped against yours. His heavy steps echoed through the room as he backed you towards the nearest wall.

You don’t answer back, not being able to handle his reaction to taking such a left turn. Your shoes nearly tangle in the cape as you're made to move.

“What if someone saw you? Do you have any idea what someone might do to you if they saw this?” He ends his one-sided question with a rough tug at the little zipper that kept the bottom piece of your costume together.

You couldn’t help the little gasp that puffed past your lips before you tried to regain your composure. You didn’t want to lose the upper hand just yet.

You slowly reached out to drag your nails from the collar of his shirt and down the plains of his chest until they met the hem of his jeans.

“Is it anything like what you want to do to me now?” You spoke as you batted your lashes and dug your fingers between the denim and his skin.

He gritted his teeth together once your palm met his pubic bone and your nimble digits circled around his hidden shaft.

He almost growled in response as he pressed himself hard against your hand.

“Oh, Doll. You have no idea. I mean, look at you.” He tilted his head until it tapped yours, just to get a better view of your precious little costume.

“You came all the way to my house, dressed like this.” His own fingers reached up to tug at one of the little straps at your waist and let it go to snap back against your skin.

“Ouch…Don’t you like it?” You give him a shy little pout as he huffs and puffs above you.

“I do.” It was spoken lowly as his eyes slipped back up your body to meet yours.

His hand comes up to tuck a finger under your chin, pushing your head up so that your lips meet his for a small but slow kiss.

His mouth slides over yours, his tongue dipping against your bottom lip before he slides it between his teeth.

He has you easily distracted, giving him room to slide his hands from the sides of your neck and over the little straps of your top. His fingers graze the soft skin of your tummy before his arms circle your waist. You were still too mesmerized by the flick and prod of his tongue along yours as his mouth engulfed you to stop him as his arms tightened around your body.

He pulled you from the wall and swung your body toward the edge of the nearby sofa. Your shoes buckled as your bottom hit the armrest, and your body teetered over to hit his cushy navy-colored pillows. You couldn’t help the giggles that erupted from your belly, nor could he help but give a sly smile as he stepped towards you to cover your body with his.

He was met instead with your hands pressing to his chest to push him back up and off of you, still chuckling as you teased him. “Hey, where’s my candy, mister?"

He stood back with an amused huff. It takes so much out of him not to just attack you right now, fingers digging hard into his own apullstry as he looks down at your teasy little pout. He could swear that if he saw you pop out your bottom lip one more time, he was going to bite it again. “Are you serious?"

"I said trick or treat; now where's my candy?" You punctuate the last word by pressing the hard platform of your heel against his chest to keep him from trying to devour you any further. You wanted to be reckless and push him just that extra inch to knock him over the edge.

"You little brat."

He still had half a bowl of treats left in the bowl he’d discarded onto the side table, so he took a sharp breath before speaking again: “You want candy? Oh, I’ll get you some damn candy.”

He tore himself away to haughtily dig through the bowl, grabbing a wide lollipop before bringing the plastic wrapper to his mouth and tearing it away with his teeth. It was bright green with a bit of chewy caramel at the top to mimic a candy apple. He leans back over you to bring the loli to your sweet pink lips, growling out a single word.

“Lick!”

You didn’t have to be told twice while flicking your wet tongue along the hard candy. The taste of a sour green apple nearly stings the tip of your tongue until it reaches the sweet caramel top.

“What do you say, Doll?” The words rumbled from his chest to vibrate into the air as he stared down at you like some easy but elusive prey.

“Mm, thank you.” You say this as you drag your mouth along the lolli before leaning up to take it fully into your mouth to give it a good suck.

“Now where we’re we, until you so bratily interrupted me.” He gritted out a tight, hungry smile as his fingers left the little plastic stick at the end of your sour, sweet candy apple prize. He wouldn’t be made to wait any longer. It had been so long since he had last seen you, often making him sweat and bite at his knuckles at the memory of your tight little pussy wrapped so deliciously around his cock. He’d have to watch you walk around your yard in your sweet girly skirts as they grazed the top of your thighs; any higher, and you’d be flashing the neighborhood your lacy delicates.

No, you’ve made him wait far too long. This time you came to him, wrapped up in slutty pink ribbons like the little devil you were, and he was going to sink his teeth right in. He looks down at your latex panties, flicking the little zipper over your mound before taking it between his thumb and pointer fingers. He dropped to his knees and leaned in to take the side of the fabric between his teeth before pulling the zipper down to expose your dewy pink petals to the cool evening air.

You were already slick, no doubt excited by your own naughty little display. Yet, you pretended to pay him no mind as you sucked at the lolli. It only worked to make him want to tease you further as he dragged his lips along your mound until they met your sweet folds. He’s slipping his tongue through them, dipping it into your core to lap at your sweet nectar.

You tried to fight the tingling tickle of his wet muscle as it pried you open to dip deep into your quivering pink channel. You bit down on the candy as you held in a shaky gasp and tried not to squirm around beneath him.

“You think you can hold it, princess? I’ll make you cream on my face. Make these knees shake through the whole night.” He didn’t mind your resolve for now; it would be just another challenge he would easily crush.

He dragged his teeth over your sensitive bud, finally pushing a weak little whine past your lips as his tongue slid over that magic pearl to circle it with the tip.

“Bucky!” Your voice quaked as the lolli cracked under the pressure of your bite. Your body is keening and bowing, subconsciously pushing your pussy against his busy lips.

He ate you raw until the little plastic stick fell from between your lips as you struggled to swallow the sweet-sour candy mixture. Then you were his, huffing and harping out little gasps and cries, gushing out onto his tongue as he delved into your fluttering cunt. You’d nearly reached that peak when he finally pulled away, leaving you to whine at the loss.

He wiped the excess slick from his lips with the back of his hand before quickly crawling over your shaking body. He falls his hands into fists, pressing them into the cushions beside your hips and head.

“Don’t be like that. If I’m gonna make you cum, then it’s gonna be wrapped around my cock.” He nipped at your wobbly bottom lip before sliding his mouth over yours, snaking his tongue past your teeth to lap at the sour-sweet flavor within and mixing it with the taste of your sloppy cunt as it still lingered on his lips.

He pulled away from you with a messy pop, leaning up just enough to dig the button on his jeans out of its loop and dragging its zipper down. He pressed his hand into the open denim, pulling his hardened member into his fist to drag it out to press against you.

It was hard enough that it nearly curved, and you watched as he gave himself a long test pump and nearly drooled at the sight of a drop of cloudy precum pearling out at the tip before dripping onto your bare mound.

He looked up at your gawking face and chuckled as he aligned himself with the messy opening of your sweet pink pussy. Like the hard press of his knuckles into the upholstery below, his movements were harsh but slow. He breached your tender core with one long, hard, agonizing thrust. You were plenty wet after the way you had made a mess on his tongue, so he could just slide himself in until his balls pressed to your ass and the head of his cock twitched against the deepest part of your cunt.

“Ah..fuck..I missed this.” He growled down at you as he dragged his hips back, unsheathing himself from you and letting the head of his cock pull through your trembling body.

“You don’t visit me enough, doll. I swear.”

“Mm..sorry,” you could barely think as he pushed back inside, savoring the feel of you throbbing around him as he leaned down to press his forehead to yours. You can hardly hold onto where your nails had dug into the sofa as he drove himself in and out of your tight channel. Pushing little gasps out of your belly.

When he reached down to grip your knees, pushing them up near your chest and driving himself in and out of you as he did. It nearly made you choke on the building drool behind your tongue. “Ah”

The smack of his pelvis meeting your thighs echoed through the dark room as he growled out into the hair. “FuUck, y-you better not keep me waiting this long again! Ah-I fuckin mean it, princess!"

You couldn’t respond with anything other than a series of sharp squeals as he forced the air from your lungs with each thrust into you. He just continued to smash at the tightly winding spring in the pit of your belly until it twisted hard enough that it finally snapped.

You bit down on the knuckle of your finger as you gushed around his cock. Your sore pussy clamped around him as he drove the climax through every bone in your body, leaving you a shaking mess beneath him.

The deep timber of his voice rang through the air to mix with your little cries as he chased after his own end. You were so tight and perfect that it would be too much, and with some better judgment, he pulled away right as he knew he’d start to spill.

He squeezed the head of his cock in his fist as his hips spasmed above you, and his seed finally spurted out onto his palm.

You have a small disappointment whine as you watch a bit of his cum drip from his fingers. What a waste.

“Don’t pout. We got lucky last time, but we don’t want to have any accidents; now do we, Doll?”

You barely hear him, still lost in your own little afterglow, as you push yourself up and take one of his sticky fingers between your lips. You give his digit a hard suck before pulling away to flick your tongue over his palm and lap up his seed.

“Oh, shit..you like that? Just licking up my cum, you little slut?” You chuckled deeply as he ran his clean hand through your messy hair.

You give a little nod and a mumbled “mhm” before he pulls your head away by the back of your hair, making the little pink plastic horns fall from your head.

The night was far from over as he turned you into his sweet pink fuckdoll until the sun rose through the windows of his living room. Even then, he was hesitant to let you go, but when the time came, he offered you a change of clothes to cover your sullied costume. Making it a little easier to walk home in the light of day.

Now, dressed in a baggy t-shirt, sweatpants, and your clunky heels, you bid him goodbye.

You say it sweetly as you lean in on your tippy toes for one last kiss, whispering, “Until next time, Mr. Barnes.”

He meets your little peck before answering with “I’ll be waiting.”

#fanfiction #fanfic #bucky barnes #smut #bucky x reader #james bucky buchanan barnes #sebastian stan #bucky x you #bucky smut #roughfuck #there’s a little plot #pwp au #pwp #bucky barnes pwp #pwp fics #bucky pwp #kinktober fic #halloween fic #slutty costume #pink devil #pink #pink asthetic #sexy seabass #sebby stan #sebastian stan characters #sebastian stan bucky barnes #Sebastian Stan Halloween #Bucky halloween fic

[bts-hyperfixation]

Kinktober Day 17

Namjoon - Somnophilia

I'm aware I skipped hybrids… I'll come back. Orgies just take longer to write. Namjoon undresses Y/N without consent but they are in a long term relationship and he is doing it to get her out of lingerie into pj's, not to be creepy, but if this could trigger you please be careful or maybe give this one a miss. sleepy sex, no foreplay.

"Jagiya?" Namjoon whispers

When you don't stir he lies on the bed next to you and tries again.

"Jagiya? Are you awake?" 

Still no reply, he gently strokes your bare arm, fingertips leaving goosebumps behind. He sighs to himself as you barely register his touch with a wriggle. He'd been hoping to be home before you'd fallen asleep. It's been ages since you'd had time to do anything intimate together. Between tying up loose ends, preparing for his solo album, and getting ready for the army, the two of you had had very little time to yourselves.

Realistically, he knew it was a losing battle as soon as the clock in his studio struck 10 pm and he had only just been ready to pack things up, he’d be at least another two hours with the commute. You're always passed out by 11 regardless of how hard you'd try to stay up for him. He leant back to admire the lingerie you'd clearly put on whilst waiting for him to come home. Your phone lay next to you abandoned where it must've fallen when you finally succumbed to sleep.

He resigned himself to have another night of using his hand to get off to the image of you lying there for him, beautiful lace covering your skin in intricate patterns, ribbons on a present he hadn't been able to unwrap. Before heading to the bathroom to take care of himself he decides he should take care of you first. 

He rifles through his draws in order to find your favourite t-shirt of his, an old unbranded t-shirt with holes along the hem, more of an old rag you refuse to let him throw away. He places it on the bed beside you and moves to unclasp the bra you'd fallen asleep in. He drags the straps carefully over your shoulders and pulls the cups free from under your chest, trying his best not to jostle you awake as he rolls you over. What he doesn't expect is for you to press into his touch.

You whimper and Namjoon has to check you are in fact still asleep. He squints into the darkness to find your eyes still closed tight, no evidence of you even being close to waking as you push up into his hands. He spends a little longer than he should uncrossing the delicate crisis cross of ribbons covering your chest, thumbs brushing against your nipples far more than necessary, just to hear you whimper for him a little more. 

Eventually, he manages to release the intricate garment from you. He straddles you as he gently lifts you, to make the angle easier to get the shirt over your head. He accidentally brushes his crotch against yours as he wriggles back to pull the shirt down into place. He groans at the brief friction, pausing to savour the feeling of being this close to you even for a short while. 

You shift in your sleep, a hand instinctively reaching out to play with one of the holes in the hem of the shirt. Namjoon holds his breath and waits for you to settle, although at this point he isn't sure if he is hoping you'll go back to sleep or wake up. When you seem to go still, he once again starts to wriggle down the bed. He releases the clips for the stockings you were wearing as he clambers off the end of the bed. He rolls off each one, careful not to tear the delicate fabric.

It tickles your feet as he drags the soft material away. Your legs reflexively kick away the offending feeling and Namjoon once again stills. He adjusts his erection as he watches you cuddle into the bed, turning until your nose is buried in his pillow. You groan as you pull the pillow closer to you. Namjoon gathers the clothes he has taken off you into a pile and takes it into the bathroom wash bin. He doesn't expect to find you grinding on his pillow when he returns.

Still fast asleep, you've managed to get his pillow between your legs. You pull at the fabric as your hips rock back and forth, little groans leaving your lips as you go. It feels wrong to watch you like this, but Namjoon can't pull his eyes away. Instead, he makes his way over to his side of the bed, sitting on the edge, giving you all the room you need. He palms himself gently on top of his sweats just to relieve some of the growing tension there. 

"Joo..nah." You moan, sending lightning straight through his body. 

Finally, he can't take it anymore. 

"Y/N-ah, I need you to wake up Jagiya..." He shakes your shoulder until you jolt awake. 

You blink sleepily up at the man, a small smile appearing on your lips as you take in his presence.

"Joonie, your home." 

You move to sit up and then take stock of the heat in your stomach and your current position. You blush furiously as you pull the pillow out from between your legs and fluff it gently before putting it back into its position.

"Sorry... I guess I just missed you even in my sleep." You shrug awkwardly as Namjoon continues to just look at you.

You glance down at your new attire, having been very sure you hadn't dreamt about going to sleep in your latest set.

"Hey, what happened to my... umph" You don't get to finish the thought before Namjoon's lips are on yours, he pushes you down gently, cradling your head as it hits the mattress and he clambers on top of you.

"So needy for you Jagiya." He mumbles into your lips as he kisses you, barely pulling back for air. 

His free hand pushes the old shirt out of the way so he can reach the panties he had left on. You lift your hips and help him to free your pussy. He then makes quick work of clumsily kicking away his sweats. 

"Show me how much you miss me Joonie." You encourage him.

Namjoon grinds down slowly, cock lined up to your slit perfectly. His erection catches on your clit as he pushes up against you before sliding back to line himself up properly. He bites down on your lower lip as he bottoms out before pulling away from your kiss entirely so he can focus. He fucks you hard and fast, not caring for settling a rhythm, just chasing pleasure for both of you. 

You snake a hand between the two of you, rubbing your clit as best you can as he jostles your tired body with each thrust. You cum quickly, having already worked yourself up so well in your dreams. Namjoon isn't far behind, cumming hard as buries himself deep inside of you. He takes care as he falls to the side of you, pulling you around with him so he doesn't have to pull out. 

He hugs you close, cradling your head against his chest as the other hand holds your leg over his stomach, his cock still softening inside of you. 

"Missed you Jagiya." He softly kisses your forehead.

"Love you Joonie." You mumble before drifting back into your previously interrupted sleep.

Masterlist

#namjoon smut #namjoon fic #rm smut #rm fic #bts smut #kpop smut #kpop fic #bts fic #bts imagine #kinktober smut #kinktober fic #kinktober 22

[alastair-fics]

Kinktober 2023 Masterlist

The schedule/masterlist for October:

Italicized are placeholder titles

Mine for a Little While

skipped

Friends With Benefits

Object: Matrimony

skipped

Friends with a Totally Completely Normal Agreement

Winter Inside Her

skipped

In Your Dreams

Friends Who Don’t Fuck Around

skipped

Criminal Punishment

Captive

skipped

The Sun in Bloom

In Your Dreams: Waking Nightmare

skipped

Friends In Denial

skipped due to a change in life

Mutual Touch

Friends Don’t Let Friends Play By Themselves

In Your Dreams: A Hint of You

skipped

The Gamble

In Your Dreams: No Longer Dreams

skipped

How to Train Your Omega

Friends Over for Dinner

skipped

A Shot in the Dark

NOT SO IMMACULATE CONCEPTION

#masterlist #kinktober masterlist #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #kinktober fic #one piece kinktober #kinktober one piece #luffyxnami #lunami #luffy x nami #luffy smut #nami smut

[lucigoo]

Weekly Roundup: 14th January - 21st January 2024

Everyone have a good week? I sadly contracted covid for the first time so between the wonderful fatigue I have going on, i maaged to write and read a fair but, between the whole sleeping unintentionally thing.

So, i managed 11,629 words this weeks and finished off 5 fics, not to bad, but most are pretty short little fics so there is that.

Recs first (ive read a whole lot but wont inundate you all lol)

Letters from the Mountain - The Hobbit - Middle_Earth_Mama @middleearthmama (Bilbo/Thorin, Letter fic)

Child's Play - Anonymous - The Hobbit (gen series of the older dwarves as children)

Beyond the Pixels - Ticklesivory - The Hobbit (Bilbo/Thorin, apocalypse/gamer fic.)

seeing you tonight (it's a bad idea, right?) - raggedypond - Harry Potter (Marlee/Dorcas, smut, sex with your ex)

A werewolf's little human slave - Moon_Stars (Writer_INFJ_2w1) - Harry Potter (Sirius/Remus, watch the tag, angst wth HEA and smut)

Where the Silence Began - brandileigh2003 - Harry Potter (Sirius/Remus, prequel of an amazing series)

Peace Offering - SpookyHoodlum - Alien vs Predator (2004) (Yutja/OC human)

You're Mine - JustAnotherRandomPoster - How to Train Your Dragon (Toothless & Hiccup) Unspeakable - JustAnotherRandomPoster - How to Train Your Dragon (Toothless & Hiccup, watch the tags)

So, thats this weels rec's i have a very electic mix for the next few months, so thank you @fanfic-reading-challenge for that.

My written fics this week are:

There and home again - The Hobbit Bilbo/Thorin, with Bilbo bringing little Frodo home to the Mountain part of my Baggonshield-tober series from @smolestboop (Im still getting there ok...)

We won, but at what cost? - Harry Potter A Molly Weasley centric fic for the @ladiesofhpfest monthly minis

"Where did you go Wally?" - Harry Potter A look at Walburga Black in a new way for me, with oast Walburga/Euphemia Potter, part of my sapphic mini series

Our house of stone where the ivy grows - Harry Potter - A saffic Wolfstar fic where Sirius is in an arranged marrige with Rabastan Lestrange. Also part of my Sapphic mini series.

You're still a traitor - Harry Potter A Wolfstar Bring Back Black fic with a sad ending.

Hope oyu find something you like and have a good week <3

#bagginshield #The Company as kids #Apacolypse #Gamer #Letter fic #Marlene/Dorcas #Sex with your ex #Wolfstar #Kinktober fic #Deaf Remus #Yutja/OC human #Toothless & Hiccup #Toothless is a sweetheart #Sad toothless #bagginshieldtober #molly weasley #walburga black #Lesbian Wolfstar

[annwayne]

Demons and Witches

Kinktober Prompt: Demon + Alley

Modern!AU Star Wars

Crosshair x PlusSize!Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4512

AO3 Link

AU Summary:

Modern world. Tbb family lives in a NYC apartment across from Reader. Reader is close with the whole family.

Fic Summary:

It’s Halloween night and you’re throwing a party that consists of you and your neighbors. Hunter asks if you could find his younger brother, Crosshair, for him. You find the sullen brother taking a break in the alley of your apartment building. Will mutual feelings come up now that you two are alone?

Warnings:

EXPLICIT 18+ ONLY. Fingering (F receiving), oral (F receiving), light over stimulation?, penetration, pet names, some awkwardness ha.

Authors Note:

Reader is plus size but this is not a fic that focuses on that. But if you pick up plus sized vibes you are right, I wrote this keeping a bigger reader in mind. If you don’t it doesn’t change the fic much. This is cute, not kink heavy, and more emotional focused than smut focused lol. But I love Crosshair’s soft side and he absolutely has feelings for reader that prompt his soft side.. sometimes. x’D Leave a like and reblog if you like it!

Thudding music muffled as the door behind you clicked closed. Your boots thudded against gray concrete, occasionally splashing into shallow puddles. You take a deep breath of somewhat-fresh city air, noting the odd mixture of petrichor and petrol gas. Even with the limited light illuminating the alleyway you’re able to make out a tall figure leaning against the brick of your building a few feet down. As you walked closer the silhouette of a toothpick flicked between the man’s lips.

“Hey, Cross,” you called out to him.

He didn’t respond.

“Big bro’s looking for you.”

His head turned, though you couldn’t make out an expression since a shadow covered all but one edge of his face. Experience, however, told you his brows were knitted together. In a few strides you closed the distance, resting against the brick beside him. Crosshair watched you- you could tell because the toothpick disappeared when his head was towards you. Then, after a moment, that toothpick returned.

“That’s a lame costume.” Sometimes quiet with Crosshair was easy. This was not one of those times. One hand fidgeted with the other’s sleeve cuff. Another glance, you raised an eyebrow at the simple black suit he wore. “What are you supposed to be, a Wall Street guy?”

A snake of a smile turned up his lips. 

“Close, demon.” His words came out like the deep rumble of a sports car. It was annoying how easily his voice stirred the butterflies hiding in your chest. At least you had the cover of darkness to hide any color changes.

“Shouldn’t a demon have horns?” you teased, bumping against his side with a flashy grin. Which earned you a smirk and eye roll- a rather neat way to explain your relationship with the grumpy brother who lived in 206.

“Alright critic, what about your costume? Isn’t it a little predictable?” He turned again, now leaning his side against the brick to face you fully. You mirrored him. “I mean, a witch? You and half of Queens are rocking that gothic look tonight.”

At first your face twisted into annoyance. Your lips tugged down a bit like an upside smirk. But then you caught his bluff. 

“Rocking? Well thank you, Cross. I can’t say I’m surprised to find out you’re looking for a big tiddy goth girlfriend.”

His jaw clenched, something you only saw because of that sliver of light outlining one side of him. Crosshair had a habit of dealing damage when he was made of glass. Or maybe that was just with you. He was quiet for a moment. His steely eyes locked onto yours. Until they weren’t. Amber eyes flicked down to your muddied boots and then took their damn time climbing up your body, noticeably stopping at your chest, before coming to rest again in your gaze. A shitty grin plastered on the so-called “demon’s” face. 

“Too bad this is a costume.” His words dragged like a dead body. “You fit the bill every other way.”

If you weren’t feeling heat in your cheeks before, you were sure as hell hot now. He had this way of getting under your skin without technically insulting you. Usually the opposite, actually. Usually this was when you pushed him away and told him to fuck off. Usually this was when you ran away to calm the rapid beats of your heart. Usually.

“Yeah?” you asked. He was still close. This was a bad idea.

His head tilted a little. A hint telling on his surprise. Then long fingers reached up and pulled that toothpick from his lips. You could hear the small clink of it landing in the metal can by the corner of the building. That always impressed you, no matter how often you watched his parlor trick.

“Something on your mind, little witch?” He gestured to the costume, keeping to the spirit of the holiday.

You grinned at his game, happy to play along. It was easier than being clear. 

“I’ve been thinking about making a deal, but I’ve heard terrible things about demons and their deals.” But this closeness was pushing your limit, so you kicked off the wall and paced the alley in circles, tapping your chin as though in deep thought. As if you could think deeply right now.

A crooked smile cracked Cross, and he circled with you, the pair of you doing figure eights in the thin alleyway. Like predators sizing the other up. 

“Caution is an admirable trait.” He matched your pace perfectly.

Damn, you didn’t think he’d respond with that. Two pairs of footsteps echoed down the alley. They echoed for a minute, but he didn’t interrupt their taps.

Finally, you responded. 

“But easily restrictive…” Your pace slowed as more focus went to diction. “Perhaps caution has held me back for too long...”

“Then what do you want from me, doll?” There was a small growl to his voice. Something he wanted. Anticipated.

Your circles stopped, both of you facing the other, standing in the middle of this damn alleyway you usually hated, but tonight, tonight you thanked it. 

“Maybe.” Too many words wanted to rush out. You had to be careful. “Maybe a trial run. A witch’s gotta make sure the goods are worth it, after all.”

Crosshair closed the gap between you in two long steps. And kept walking. He forced you to back up against the bricks of the building and closed his arms around you, successfully capturing you in his trap. He leaned into your ear, hot breath sending tingles down your neck, and in a low voice asked, “Does this trial run include me worshiping your body, little witch?”

“In a bed, yes. You are not fucking me in an alley.”

His head fell, landing in the crook of your neck, and he laughed. After a second Crosshair hooked one arm around your waist, then leaned down to hook your legs. And then you were in the air, the skinny man carrying you up the emergency stairs to the large loft he shared with his family. 

“Good thing everyone’s at your place.” Then he carefully lowered you into the open window, letting you into a room you had been in many times before.

“What if Tech comes up?” You glance at the other bed in the room, suddenly feeling a rush of all those doubts that made you wait this long.

After Crosshair pulled his long body through the open window into the bedroom he shared with his twin, he walked to the door and turned a small knob on the center of the door handle. 

“It’s got a lock.” He gave you an entertained smirk in response to your hint of shyness.

With only a tiny falter, you nodded your head in approval. Though you were no stranger to the fact that Tech regularly forgot his keys and, as a result, was now an adept lock pick. Your thoughts had distracted you from the man moving towards you until he slipped one of his hands into one of yours.

“So, little witch,” He led you towards his bed while speaking. “What do you want from this trial run?” Once he reached the bed he sat while keeping hold of your hand.

Comfort pushed you forward, in between his open legs, and you cupped his cheek with your free hand. Even if your nerves were running too fast you knew this room and felt safe. In response he slid his hand along your leg, pulling up the fabric of your long skirt, only stopping at your mid-thigh, giving the soft limb a squeeze.

“How about we see where this leads us?” You asked, leaning down, heart pumping harder with each inch, till your lips met his. At some point, you- or he- had released the other’s hand. Now yours was running through his short gray hair. His rested at your waist, feeling your soft skin under your shirt.

With one hand he pulled you down, moving back himself so you were on the bed on top of him. You propped yourself up with one elbow, resting the other hand under his head. Four legs twisted and intertwined. Moans muffled into his skin as you kissed him. Passion cooled by hesitation kept your lips slow and gentle. He matched your pace, never speeding up before you.

You pulled up, out of reach, and locked eyes with the man- the demon- below you. 

“Um, how’s that?” As the words came out you winced. “That I mean- no wait never mind.” 

You stumbled to brush aside your embarrassment. Below you, Crosshair chuckled, reaching up to brush your check with a thumb. 

“Doll, if I wasn’t enjoying myself you wouldn’t still be on top of me.” Heat warmed your cheeks and you bit your lip, holding back any more words that might make you look like a fool. “And you? Are you enjoying yourself?” 

Those dark eyes melted you. Passion and care that he always kept so guarded was on full display beneath you.

A laugh escaped you at his question.

“Oh, you have no idea…”

He, just barely, narrowed those auburn eyes at you. A hint of a smirk pulled one corner of his lips up. 

“Would you like me to find out?” He propped himself up so he was basically sitting up, looking into your eyes with a confidence that clenched your thighs together.

“Yes. Very much. Yes.” The words came out breathy.

His grin was the last thing you saw before he flipped you onto your back, your head at the foot of the bed now. He scattered kisses along your jaw, crawling down your neck, and then nipped at your exposed collarbone. You leaned up, knowing what he was after, and he pulled your shirt off with some finesse. 

“What a good witch. I didn’t even say anything.” His praise nibbled as your ear lobe which caused you to pout and squirm.

“It’s not like that! I just, it’d be difficult otherwise.” You pouted, but the look in his eyes sent a feeling straight to your pussy that betrayed that pout.  

“Mhm.” Crosshair grinned, traveling down your body again, nibbling at the line where your bra outlined your breasts. He cupped them in his hands, feeling your hard nipples through the soft fabric. Those thumbs rubbed across your mounds once. A squeak filled the room. It came from you.

He froze. 

“Did I hurt-?”

“No, no, I’m just-” You cut him off before cutting yourself off. “Could you be extra gentle with them?”

A hesitant smile broke onto your face. 

“It’s just, they’re a lot more sensitive-”

“You don’t need to explain, doll.” Now he cut you off, saving you from the worry-ramble you were about to go on. “Is licking your nipples off the table?”

The shot of arousal that sprinted down your spine was.. not fair. 

“N-Nope.” Your jaw trembled as you tried to recover from whatever it was his words did to you exactly.

He didn’t give you that time, as he immediately lapped slowly at your clothed nipple. Intense pleasure flooded your mind, but at a rate you could handle. For now. You caught Crosshair’s eyes and realized he was watching you. Despite your best efforts, you were unable to stay still under him.

Carefully, Crosshair lifted your torso up and pulled the bra trapping your peaked mounds free. He gave your sternum a soft kiss before traveling further down to your legs. His hands traveled up and down the soft stockings covering your legs before landing on the waistband beneath your skirt. 

“May I?” Long fingers teased the band.

You nodded a yes in response, lifting your hips just enough to let him peel the fabric off you. The stockings landed beside your discarded shirt and bra.

“I love how soft your skin is.” The words were interrupted by kisses climbing your legs. “And you smell amazing.” 

A hint of a growl escaped his lips. He took his time, exploring every inch of your thick bare legs until he reached the last barrier to his goal. Technically you were still wearing a skirt, but skirts were pushed away much easier than undergarments.

Soft moans responded to his delicate touches. Those rough hands traveled your body. Gently squeezed your breasts. Traced stretch marks, scars, and dotted every beauty mark visible. You wanted to say something. Something about how surprised you were with his gentle touch. Maybe how different it was from his normal attitude of self-sufficiency. You expected something like a rough race based on his muted reactions to pain in the past. So you asked.

“Are you always this... soft?”

He pulled himself up till his lips were against your ear.

“No.” 

The word filled your mind. Why then? Because of the trial run thing? Or only because this was your first time with him? Then your thoughts were swept away by his next sentence. 

”Do you want me to be more rough?”

Your mouth parted like you were going to say something, but then you tucked your bottom lip between your teeth. There were plenty of times when you had enjoyed a hard fuck with previous partners. No doubt that rough sex from Crosshair would be fantastic. But you’d never encountered the question before. Usually sex was whatever it started out as or grew into. Previous partners never asked mid-fuck if you wanted to change the pace.

“No, at least, not yet.” 

That earned a grin from the lean man.

“Well, doll, anything else, or can I eat you out now?” The sounds you made mean yes, and luckily Crosshair took them as yes because you didn’t think any real words could come from you right then.

A tongue pushing between your lips is how you found out that your underwear had been removed. Moans and wet lapping sounds filled the bedroom. Your head hung back as he tasted you. And fuck, he thoroughly tasted you. Spasms of pleasure sent your body twitching, enough that Crosshair held onto your legs tightly to keep you in place. You threw your hands into his hair, the bed sheets, and onto your mouth.

“Fuck, fuck, that’s!” Muffled moans pressed into your hands as you did your best to keep from being too loud. What was too loud anyways?

All your moaning and swears encouraged Crosshair and his tongue. He pushed into you with a finger- letting one leg free to do so. That finger pumped and curled into you with dedication only a religion could demand. Between the attention his tongue was giving your clit and the fingers moving inside you, that familiar high of pleasure started to build up in you. Your moans turned silent because only air could escape when you felt this good. That climb reached its peak, causing you to unintentionally trap Cross between your legs as you rode out your orgasm.

When you finally let up, which took a minute because someone kept teasing your clit through your orgasm, the newly released man sat up to reveal a slick glisten covering his mouth. 

“Well,” He growled while wiping the excess from his jaw. “Looks like you’re thoroughly enjoying yourself.” 

You shook as he clawed his way back up to your lips, the strong sent of your sex lingering on him.

Something prodded against your upper thigh. 

“Feels like you are too.” Then you reached down, finding Crosshair’s sex straining against his black slacks.

He groaned into your ear and his hands squeezed the sheets as he tensed for your touch. You couldn’t tell if that was solely pleasure or also attempts to control himself. 

“Seems I don’t need these anymore.” Then he was up, performing some balancing act to strip off his pants and boxers while staying on the bed.

And there he was. Sitting up between his legs, cock sliding against the folds of your pussy, barely visible till you threw your skirt fully to the side, making it hug one plump hip tightly. A small bead of precum leaked from the tip of the head. You just came, and even still, you wanted that cock.

“Crosshair.”

“Do you want me, little witch?”

Goddamnit. His voice sent tremors right to your clit. 

“Yes.” You growled, pushing yourself up so you were closer to his face.

He grinned, reached down, and slowly prodded the tip of his head against your wet cunt. Little by little, he moved his hips forward while your pussy pulled him in like it was hungry for cock. Maybe that was the case. You moaned as his full length filled you. The pleasure was so subtle compared to being eaten out, but you loved it the same.

“Mmmm…” He groaned. “You feel amazing.” 

Crosshair gently pushed you back against the bed and laid on top of you. Without thinking you wrapped your legs around him. The nerves that had been with you before Cross ate you out had dissolved in the pleasure. Everything felt natural, comfortable, and that just made his dick feel even better inside of you.

Concern for volume was now gone. Moans escaped your throat at full volume as you thrust in time with Crosshair. He nibbled at your neck, leaving love bites behind everywhere he kissed. You pulled him up and mashed your lips against his, a hint of your flavor still on his tongue as he explored your open mouth. Then you gasped as a long finger swiped across your clit.

The pleasure threw your head back (again), so Crosshair sat up and lifted your legs with him while circling your slick pearl. His thrusts slowed to languid strokes.

“Crosssss.” You whined, wanting- no, needing more stimulus. “Don’t tease, please!” 

For emphasis you wiggled your hips faster. His dark chuckle let you know just how much he enjoyed watching you squirm. Eventually your begging satisfied him, and his speed increased. But he didn’t let your legs down nor let up on your clit. Instead he pounded into you with a smile worthy of a demon, watching you come undone under his thumb- literally.

Your hips met his every thrust in time- or at least it felt that way, you were becoming a mess faster than anticipated and keeping track of your movements was impossible. Moans filled the room and that familiar rise quickly overcame your senses. Pleasure ripped through your limbs, forcing them to drop, and you became a twitchy disaster coming on Crosshair’s cock.

Deep groans joined yours, and you opened your eyes long enough to see an intense gaze fixed on you as Crosshair felt your walls pulse around him. 

“Dammmn,” He moaned, finally throwing his head back from the pleasure. “You’ll make me cum at that rate.” 

The growl made your pussy clench down, earning another groan from the man.

Giggles escaped you as you started to recover. 

“I feel that good?” You teased, throwing him a sly grin.

Crosshair dropped your legs and rested on you, one hand holding your hip and the other in your hair. 

“Better than good, doll.” He slowed, barely moving his hips to give you time to recover from your orgasm. “Would you like to change positions?”

A smile you felt silly in covered your face. 

“Yeah, actually. Um, I’d like to be on my stomach?” Even though every part of you felt hot, warmth rushed to your cheeks as you asked the question. The soft chuckle that came from Crosshair made your chest squeeze.

“Of course.” Crosshair pulled out slowly and moved off the thin bed to give you room to flip over. The weight of his body slowly rested on you before his voice tickled your ear. “Good?”

“Mhm.” You lifted your hips in anticipation, the fabric of your skirt strewn to the side once again, and Crosshair slowly slid into you. Low moans left both of you as he filled you with his cock. “Ooo, yes.. If you want to be a little rougher I’d like that.”

He growled. 

“That’s a dangerous request. You’re testing my ability to hold back, you know that? Wouldn’t want it to end early.” As he spoke he repeated those slow long strokes from before.

“You’re struggling? Never thought you’d admit it.” You teased, pushing back against his dick at the just the right moment, making him hit deeper inside you than before.

Guttural growls filled his words. 

“Never said that.” He matched your pace, pushing harder into you at that deeper angle. “I’ve already made you come twice. You don’t have much self control from what I’ve seen.” 

God you could picture that damn smirk on his face.

You craned your neck back just to shoot him a glare. His laugh cracked that glare. 

“And here I thought you’d stop being mean to me.”

“Never.” His smile was audible.

And then he picked up his pace. And your hips. He held you tightly while resting on your back. Hot breath blowing on your ear with each grunt. You pushed back, feeling him hit that spot that felt so good and wanting more. His grunts grew into moans that turned into growls. One hand let go of your hips and slid between your legs. Two long fingers gathered slick from you and then started circling your clit quickly. Again, the pleasure built fast.

“Fuck fuck, Cross that’s-” You moaned into a long grunt.

“Are you close?” From his panting you could tell he was too.

You could only make vague “Uhhuuu,” sounds, which he easily understood.

“Then come with me, my little witch.”

Those fingers worked your clit faster. They slid over that pearl easily, sending sparks of pleasure through your body. His cock twitched inside you as it slammed into that spot you loved. His growls grew as your moans fell silent once again. All the stimulation pushed you over that edge, causing your pussy to clench down hard.

“Fucckkk.” Cross lowered his head into the crook of your neck as his orgasm overtook him. Spurts of semen filled you as his hips slowed until you had milked every last ounce of the white fluid from him. He all but collapsed onto you. Hot breath and moans tingled your neck.

“Yeah. Fuck.” You sighed, then moaned as an aftershock caused you to clench.

“Oohh, that’s.” A mixture of a growl and laugh left his lips. “I’ll get you back for that.” 

Then he slowly pulled out, both of you moaning from the sensitive movement.

“What?? It’s involuntary…” You grinned, feeling his eyes devour you.

He answered with a grunt, then carefully walked to his desk for some tissues to clean you up. 

“Sorry, the bathroom isn’t attached.” Once he was satisfied with the clean up job he gave you he hurriedly wiped himself off before throwing on his slacks. “You might have to dash into the bathroom.” 

“Mmm… can’t I just lie here in post-sex bliss?” You flipped over, noticing your skirt had not survived the encounter.

“You want a UTI?” You groaned in response. Crosshair ignored that groan, instead he handed you a pair of basketball shorts and one of his pj tees. “I’ll throw that in the wash for you.” Quickly you slid the skirt off, letting him add it to the small pile of laundry.

“Most guys fall asleep immediately after.” You said while sliding into his clothes. The basketball shorts were tight around your thighs, like most men’s shorts were after you went through puberty, but they were sufficient for the night.

“Thought you already knew I wasn’t like most guys.”

“I do. Just...” You smirked as he poked his head out of the cracked door and stepped out slowly, looking both ways for signs of life. “Guess my expectations are too low.”

The look he gave you told you he agreed. 

“Come on.” He waved you over, holding the bathroom door open for you. You snuck in, and quickly took care of your business.

However, while washing your hands you heard the front door open and multiple voices fill the apartment. The closest one, Crosshair’s twin, already at the bathroom door. You quickly shut the water off and stood still.

“Crosshair, who is in the bathroom?”

“No one.”

“The water was on and now it’s shut off, clearly someone is in there.”

Their conversation caught the attention of the others, all of them crowding around Crosshair asking where he had been and if he knew where you were. While you didn’t doubt his ability to keep you a secret, Omega’s sad voice saying she didn’t even get to say goodnight to you pushed you to open the door.

“Heey, sorry I disappeared, Omega. I...” You had a great cover. “Tripped, and got mud all over me. I asked if Crosshair could let me use one of the showers in your apartment since you were all in my apartment.” 

You exchanged a hesitant glance with Cross.

The suspicious look on Omega’s face had your heart in a vice grip, until she proclaimed, “But why ask Crosshair? Unless-” She gasped. “I knew it! I knew you liked him!”

Hunter’s face shot to alarm and he picked the young girl up. 

“Alright little lady, it's way past your bedtime. Say night.”

“Good night!! See you after school tomorrow!”

You waved, wondering how much candy she had eaten today. Hunter and her disappeared behind a door you knew led to Omega’s room. Echo and Wrecker waved to you. Tech had his arms crossed and wasn’t moving, until his uncle Echo grabbed him by the collar and dragged him into the living room.      

Crosshair walked you back into his room. 

“I would have kept them out, you know.”

“I know.” A heavy sigh followed your words. “But I felt so bad hearing Omega so sad. And it was going to happen eventually, right?” Those dark eyes fell and you knew that meant he agreed. “So, everything’s okay?”

“Okay?” Crosshair lifted his eyes and you caught a glimpse of hope shining in his eyes before he blinked.

“I think..” He walked to you, lifting his hand to cup your cheek as you debated how you wanted to say what you wanted to say. “I want this,” You gestured to him then yourself. “To be more than a trial run, if you’re okay with that.” Your hands fidgeted between your bodies as you waited for his answer.

His hand dropped and your heart went with it. But then that hand caught your nervous hands and pulled them up to his lips. “I’m more than okay with that, doll.” Then he gently kissed your knuckles before lifting you up to carry you over to the bed. “Stay the night?”

“How about my place?” You flicked your head to the bedroom door, where Tech was standing with a mildly annoyed expression.

“Yes, I vote for your place as well.” He took your notice as permission to enter his bedroom,

You laughed, giving the man an apologetic look before Crosshair could pull you out of the apartment into yours across the hall. 

“Now, how about a real shower?”

Dividers by Djarrex

#crosshair x reader #tbb smut #tbb fanfiction #star wars smut #star wars fanfiction #crosshair x fem reader #kinktober #fluffy smut #spicy fic #crosshair tbb #the bad batch #star wars the bad batch #one shot #tbb one shot #kinktober fic

[itjazzbicch]

Mood Swings

Kinktober Day : 8/31

(I will be posting 2 fics day considering I forgot yesterday!)

Pairing: Jey Uso x Fem reader

Kink: 69 Position

Summary: The Reader and Jey are always happy to see one another, but the moment Sami speaks to the reader, Jey’s mood drastically changes…

Theme/Motivation:

Warnings: (Smut) (18 + ONLY)

Word Count: 1.7k

Tag list: @demonqueen29 @peachy-satan00 @new-zealand-chic @crowleysqueenofhell @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin @thatpanpal @damnnhausen @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @spooky-land @xxx-jazz-xxx @writtingrose @legit9thlunaticwarrior @seeingstarks @rubyred1980 @alexisquinnlee-bc

I DO NOT OWN THIS GIF:

“Hey Jey,” Lust always rolled off my tongue whenever I saw Jey and it felt nice that he came back with a mean mug, but smiled softly when he saw me.

“Ready for your match, girl?” He came over to give me a hug, taking this time together before the rest of the Bloodline came in.

“Oh yeah,” I hugged back before twirling and posing, “Like my new gear?”

I made sure to flaunt at him, cocking my hip and his tongue was farting across his lip, wrapping his arm around my waist and smiling:

“Oh, I like it. You’re looking fine, baby.”

Jey and I had been talking for a bit now and I was happy to be the one person who didn’t bother him and made him happy, going to kiss him but Roman was the first to come back in.

We both quickly fixed our postures, Roman cocking his eyebrow at us, but Sami quickly took everyone’s attention:

“Y/N! Your match is next, ain’t it? Oh, you got new gear too?”

Here we go again, Jey’s glare at Sami was as intense as ever, but I just played along, nodding to Sami:

“Yup, yup. About to go break it in and get the W.”

“That’s the spirit,” He nudged elbows with me before Solo fist bumped me, then Jimmy did the same, encouraging:

“Go get it, uce.”

My friendship with rest of them was like I was one of the boys, just continuing to smile at them as they all began to head off, but before they did, I grabbed Jey while he was behind all of them, kissing his cheek:

“I’ll see you at the end of the show, baby.”

“See you,” No reaction, a mean-mug still on his face as he turned and went on his way.

That was concerning, but I had to focus on my match. After winning and having an interview backstage, I was hoping that Jey was in a better mood.

Getting changed then meeting up with him just like we planned, and he was silent the entire time, wouldn’t even look me in the eyes.

This was way too awkward for the both of us, we had a lengthy drive, so I decided to break the silence:

“Jey, will you tell me what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Hiding his angry tone under his breath went to show that he was lying and I shook my head at him:

“Something is wrong.”

Retracing my steps from earlier, it all began when Sami stepped in and started talking to me, looking at him as he was driving and scoffing:

“Are you seriously mad at me because Sami talked to me?”

I could see the way his eyebrows scrunched along with the scowl on his face, that alone giving me the answer to my question.

“You have to be kidding me, Jey?”

“You know I don’t like him,” He spat, voice expressing the animosity he had towards Sami.

“Look, I only responded because Roman and your brothers were there!” I stressed, “If anything just be more mad with Sami, not me!”

He shook his head at me with annoyance and there was no way I was going to let him stay mad over a little thing like this.

Leaning over to his seat and hugging his arm, I played it cool, playing with one of his curls on the side of his head and cooed:

“Look, as soon as we get to your place, I’ll make it up to you. How’s that sound?”

“Don’t try and kiss up to me,” He pulled his head away from me, but I could tell that he didn’t want to, he just always tried to stay in a bad mood even though I was taking it away, “You’re the one who’s in for it.”

“If you don’t want me kissing you, I can kiss something else,” I had to tease him more, palming him softly, trying not to giggle when I saw him biting his lip.

“You’re the one who’s in for it,” This time he looked me in the eye, trying to be stern, “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

“Tell me what you’re gonna do then,” I was getting him to break little by little, adding to it with some assumptions, “Gonna give it to me rough? Just tease me? Don’t leave me hanging, now.”

I didn’t even realize that he was pulling into his place, realizing how serious his stare grew while he parked, then hopped out of the car.

For a moment, I felt defeated, rolling my eyes and hopping out to get my stuff.

Heading inside, He was already up in his bedroom and I followed along, catching him right as he sat on his bed.

“Listen, Jey,” Taking his shoulders, I was being as sincere as possible, “You are my happy place, okay? I’m not letting you be a grinch all night. So,”

Getting down on my knees softly, I pushed his shoulders back softly, giving him a sexy smirk:

“Just let me make you feel good.”

“I told you,” Raising me to my feet by my arm, he switched places with me on the bed, “You’re the one who’s in for it.”

We both had the same ideas in mind and it turn me on like crazy when he swiped away my sweats and panties, seeing him getting ready to go down to his knees, but I threw out another idea:

“Or we could just do it at the same time?”

That made him stop and since I already had a lead, I added to it more:

“And we can see who’s better because you know I can do some great things with this mouth.”

His reaction had me giggling. He was competitive and this seemed to be more of a challenge to him.

“You think you’re better?” Now, he was ready and so was I, shrugging at him:

“I’m the best at everything I do, So…”

That had him stripping out of his clothes, coming to me on the bed with a soft growl:

“Won’t be saying that when I have you crying.”

“Shut up and get over here,” Growling a tease, I pull him to the bed, leaving him on his back while I jumped on top of him, perking my ass towards his head while pumping his hardening cock.

Just a touch had him rock solid, not wasting any time to take his tip into my mouth, sucking harder when his arms hooked under my thighs, pulling me back some.

Humming at the stroke of his tongue from my clit to my dripping entrance, it was hard to not submit already.

There was just something with every move he made that drove me crazy. To distract myself and try to make him break, I quickly deep throated his entire cock, then stroked his shaft as quick as I could while my tongue swirled around his tip and across his slit.

I knew that was getting to him whenever he spanked my ass, pulling me back again with his tongue inside of me.

This time, I had to moan out loud, still stroking his shaft and resting my head on his thigh, taking the moment to enjoy myself.

But then I heard him laughing under his breath, that giving me the motivation to pick my head back up:

“What are you laughing about?”

I made sure to look back at him while sucking his tip again, shaking my ass at him then deep throating.

That made a moan rumble in his chest, he thought he was good at hiding it, but this time I was the one who got a laugh.

Having to ignore the slight gag I was feeling, I kept bobbing my head, quicker and quicker.

It was really turning into a competition, hearing behind me:

“You’re done, now.”

His tongue made sure to work quick, using one of the hands around my thighs to start rubbing my clit as quickly as possible, tongue darting through my folds and circling my entrance before pushing in, then he adjusted himself so he could suck my clit has hard as he could.

“Damn it, Jey!” Cupping his balls with a squeeze, I shut my eyes tight and tried to control my body’s shaking, my hand relentlessly stroking him in hopes of distracting myself.

He made sure there was no way I could distract myself from my orgasm coming, having me near tears like he said from sucking my clit so hard, body beginning to collapse on top of him while crying out

“J-Jey! I’m-“

“Ain’t gotta tell me,” He shot out with a stinging spank, then going right back to work and as my back arched with a pop, I instantly came.

“F-Fuck,” I growled under my breath and at the same time, feeling how tense his thighs grew in that moment.

Picking my head back up, I gladly returned the hard sucking, a few tears running down my cheek from not having any air, not daring to stop bobbing my head till I felt his cock throbbing.

“You’re so lucky I can’t push your head down,” More grumbles began coming from his chest, trying to get to me more when he slipped two fingers into me, pumping deep to hit my sweet spot, but I had him right where I wanted, my lips down to his base whenever he came, throat drowned in his seed, making him the one to be panting this time.

While picking my head back up, I had him growling by keep tight friction all the way up his shaft to the tip of his cock, swallowing him down then licking his tip clean.

“Not so grumpy anymore?” I huffed out, wiping my eye softly as I turned to face him.

At first, he just shook his head, eyes closed and taking deep breaths, but giving us both a laugh when he huffed out, “How can I be after that?”

#wrestling #wrestling imagine #wrestling fic #wrestling smut #Kinktober #Kinktober fic #Kinktober imagine #kinktober smut #wwe #wwe imagine #wwe fic #wwe smut #Jey uso #Jey uso x reader #Jey uso imagine #Jey uso fic #Jey uso smut #read and enjoy #Spotify

[shamrockqueen]

Holy is the lamb Chapter 1

Pairing : Dark priest Bucky x innocent nun reader

Warnings : R18, Possession, horror, eventual Smut

Word count : 1049

Bucky Masterlist

Kinktober masterlist

You hear it echoing somewhere deep in the never-ending folds of your dreams. A low melodic purr, humming along the corners of your mind and making your ears twitch. It called out to you, pulling you towards it along an unseen string.

“Hello, little one.” Like a bittersweet syrup on the tip of your tongue, the voice is thick and heavily alluring. “Come to me, and all will be at ease."

Further and further into the void, it seemed to drag you to it. It surrounded and consumed everything around your little spark of consciousness.

The breath seemed to be forcibly pulled from your body while you were in this deepened state of sleep. The color draining from your skin, and a terrible sweat overtook you.

Your body begins to shake as a terrible fit overtakes you. It alerts the other sleeping women in the dormitory, making them all circle you like scared chickens clucking around a rabid fox.

Your tongue knots behind your teeth as a surge of some unspeakable language forces itself out of your mouth.

One woman cradles your head in her hands as others try to hold down your thrashing limbs, and another runs from the room to alert the priest.

The other sisters screamed at you in the hopes of pulling you from this fit, but you only convulsed in their arms as they sobbed for you.

He came rushing in with a few of the sisters in tow to find you like this. They all called to him to help you as he approached, staring into your widening black pupils as they ate the once vivid colors of your eyes.

“Everyone! Get back now!” His voice rang through the room, only to be met with sheepish looks as the sisters didn’t want to let you go.

“I said get back!” He nearly tore their hands from your arms before talking you into his to pull you from the bed. You were still kicking and flailing, but his hold remained firm around you as he ushered you from the dormitory.

Your vision was gone; you were barely holding onto your other senses when the once sweet voice began bellowing around you with indecipherable chanting spilling around your mind like a flood of hot, suffocating tar, clogging your voice and gluing your limbs to your sides. It laughed at you and taunted you as it twisted around your subconscious like a vile snake.

Your kicking body was taken away to a safe room where you could be tied to an infirmary bed as you thrashed painfully against the rough ropes. The other nuns were told to stay away as the candlelight began to flicker within the small room. The door was locked, and your beloved priest held his hands high above you and began to speak. But his words were strange and nearly unintelligible as they poured from his lips.

The black clouds overtook your little subconscious entirely as he spoke. Cold, icy blue eyes flashed through the mire of black within your mind as every breath was sucked from your lungs.

Your skin is sickly, graying, and dusty, like your soul was bleeding out of your body to pool around on the floor below the table. You felt suffocated, dying as this strange entity squeezed the life from your very bones until you were completely engulfed by its influence. The last of your fleeting thoughts and fears were left to disappear in its wake.

The last thing to be heard is the once-sweet voice of your dear priest echoing out into the endless distance of your mind as if it were stolen from you. His arms opened up through the fog to welcome you into his safe embrace. His cooling blue eyes made your body feel a strange sort of numbness as your little mind ran right to him. When you collided with his hold, you seemed to feel every ounce of his being, from the soft strands of his dark, walnut hair to the vigorous beating of his heart as it shot hot blood throughout his body.

You disappeared inside of him, the black clouds behind him rising up into a mighty maw before slamming overtop of you both, severing your subconscious from your feeble little body. You fell headfirst into that abyss, your body bowing outward from the bed and pulling painfully against the restraints as everything was stolen from you. Eyes flooding over with those same black tendrils, like the sharp legs of spiders digging in through each tiny vein, before fading out to hide themselves and returning to copy your natural iris color on a white background.

Your body throws itself back down onto the tense plush of the stiff bed. Your eyelashes flutter as you take in the room.

His eyes traversed over your body as he ceased his incantation and watched as you regained your former hue. Your cheeks pinked, and your eyelids lost their former darkness before they slowly blinked open.

He pursed his pink lips before flicking out his tongue and dragging it along the dried skin. “Is it you, my love?” He calls towards you, almost breathless, as he waits for a response.

A sly smile curves along your sweaty face, baring to him your perfect pearly teeth before you answer. “It is?”

So few words, yet so much to tell as they slipped from your teeth in a mix of two voices speaking as one. Something inhuman is bleeding over your once-sweet tone. The darker of the two faded away, leaving only your original voice for him to hear once you’d finished speaking.

What lay within you, puppeting your body and mimicking your lovely voice, was evil at its finest. It had twisted its poisonous barbs around the good priest's heart, squeezing it for all the love that could bleed out onto its tongue. He was purely smitten, overtaken by its power as it finally gifted you to him.

He leaned in, wanting to crawl up your nightgown to nuzzle along your skin. He nearly sounded as if he were begging as he spoke to your form. “May I touch you?"

Your eyes were pointed as the demon used them to stare into him before stealing your lips to speak. “Untie me first, James.”

#fanfiction #fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #james bucky buchanan barnes #sebastian stan #bucky x you #bucky smut #eventual smut #demon reader #priest Bucky #priest x demon #bucky x demon reader #priest Bucky x reader #demon possession #possession #body snatchers #kinktober fic #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #demons #religion #priests and demons

[bts-hyperfixation]

Kinktober Day 18

Seokjin - I dream of jinnie part 2

I dream of Jinnie part two, part one is in kinktober 2021, but I'm pretty sure you could read this as a stand alone.

edging, sub!Jin, Domme Y/N, overstimulation, Wish induced sex.

 "That feels so good Jagiya," Jin moans as your tongue trails across his slit, leaking pathetic amounts of cum.

You've had him tied to the bed for almost an hour now. Switching between gentle teasing and ignoring him completely every time he got too riled up. His fringe sticks to the sweat on his forehead. His voice is low and whiny, cracking a little every time he reaches the edge only for you to pull him away from the cliff. He's come close to an orgasm about six times now, you conceded and let him have two full orgasms in between. Now he was releasing his third and final spurt, more of a drizzle at this point. 

You blink your eyes and the ties disappear, the duvet instantly cleans, and Jin is no longer a dishevelled mess. You lay next to him and bring his head to your shoulder so he can cuddle in close to recover from his favourite form of torture. As you try to settle in for the night, Jin seems to get other ideas. He nuzzles into your neck, leaving trails of hot kisses along your bare flesh, you tap deliberately against his arm to get him to stop. 

"Let me make you feel good now Y/N, pretty please." He pulls away to look into your eyes, trying to sway you with his best puppy dog pout.

"Just rest Jinnie. Making you feel good makes me feel good." You lean down to kiss him gently, before reaching a hand into his hair to guide his head back to your shoulder.

"It's not the same and you know it." he huffs.

"Your sexual fantasies will always be exactly what I need and want, now stop being a brat and take a nap."

He grumbles and settles for a moment. But just as you think you've won he seems to remember exactly who you are, and by extension the power he holds over you.

"I wish you'd let me fulfil your greatest fantasy!" He says before you can even think to stop him.

"Oh fuck." You sigh as your eyes blink closed and you are whisked away from the warmth of Jin's king-sized bed into the depths of your lamp.

You glance around at the familiar layout, once again returned to its gaudy glory of an Arabian night's cliche. Mirrors line the round walls, as veils and curtains hang delicately from the ceiling providing an air of mystery. It looks like a scene from a bad porn adaptation of Aladdin. 

You try to find Jin in amongst the chaos of colourful scarves but come up blank... until you hear his unmistakable windshield wiper laugh come from a pile of overstuffed bean bags and pillows with curtain tassels.

He rises from the soft furnishings he must've landed in and turns to twirl in one of the nearby mirrored walls. 

"Never thought this was what I'd be working with." He raises an eyebrow and admires his reflection.

The broad shouldered man is clad in your traditional genie wear. From the bright pink pantaloons with extra gossimer fabric dropping in ways that accentuate the curve of his hips, to the horrendous crop top with gold coins at the hem, and the fez that you had always found cheesy. Yet, somehow, he looked better than any of the times you had imagined it. 

He swishes purposefully across the room towards your bed. The delicate lighting catching on the gold embellishments, casting cute patterns of amber across his exposed stomach and arms. 

"I thought you hated the whole stereotypical genie vibe." He said, kneeling on the edge of the bed.

You reach out to draw soft lines with your fingertips across his abs. 

"I never said that... just that it wasn't my style, per say. You, on the other hand, seem to really fit in here." 

You admire every inch of him. A new appreciation for the uniform you'd been forced to wear for millennia. He looks even more stunning than ever, femininity had always suited Seokjin in a way he hadn't always embraced, but it was one of your favourite looks on him. You had been hoping to be a little more subtle about getting him to embrace that sense of style. But this worked too.

"As much as I would love to talk through this entirely ludicrous and yet oddly charming situation a little longer, I have this intense burning urge to please you… will you let me?"

"Your wish is my command Master."  You lay back on the bed, clothes disappearing as your head hits the pillow. 

"Not Master, just Jinnie. Your Jinnie." He covers your body with his, kissing along your jawline.

"My Jinnie." You echo as he leaves adoring kisses around your neck and across your chest. 

The fabric of his genie outfit tickles as he crawls back to expose more of you to the worship of his lips. You relax as he makes sure to cover every last inch of you in kisses before coming back to your face to litter even more there. He finishes with a long slow kiss to your lips, letting you indulge in him fully. 

"Tell me what you want Y/N. Tell me what you need." 

He hovers above you and waits patiently for your answer. His arms keep his body lingering just close enough for you to feel the heat radiating off of him, but not close enough for you to actually feel him. 

"I know for a fact your little wish told you everything you needed to know about this little scenario Jin." You roll your eyes.

"But I want you to ask for it." He dips his head for another kiss, coaxing the words from you.

"I want you to be a good boy for me Jinnie, I want you to eat me out until your tongue feels like it will drop off, all while wearing that ridiculous pink fez on your head." You reach out and flick the tassel dangling from the hat over your face.

His eyelids droop at the thought and you are rewarded with another kiss.

"Then what Jagiya?" 

"Then I want to watch as you strip for me, taking every ludicrous layer of fabric off until there is nothing left to keep us apart."

You earn another kiss as he whines at the thought of being watched by you so intently.

"Finally, I want you to take me as hard and as fast as you can for as long as you can until your legs are screaming and your arms feel like they are going to break beneath you."

This kiss is bruising, teeth clashing together more focused on passion than precision.  He is hesitant to break away, the mere thought of what you really want from him enough to get him all riled up but eventually, the power of the wish drags him downward, leaving much sloppier presses of his mouth against your skin as he works his way down to your vagina. 

He wastes no time diving in, starting with rushed, sloppy licks along your slit. His tongue flattens as he cleans all of the slick that had been gathering since long before you ended up here. All the arousal that had gathered while you had been pleasing him instead, the mess you'd intended to deal with yourself. 

You allow yourself to indulge in the pleasure. Moaning loudly as the tip of his tongue flicks against your clit. You grasp on to his hair, leading him to where you need him most, listening as he whines into your pussy trying to keep a rhythm that he knows will please you. 

You tug roughly as two fingers find their way to your entrance, scissoring long before you are prepared for the stretch. It burns as he thrusts his fingers quickly, intermingled come hither motions quickly helping your orgasm build. The familiar feeling surges in your stomach as you cum over his fingers, impressed by the speed at which he brought you to completion.

"Such a good boy for me" You whisper as you smooth the mess you created in his hair, but the man doesn't stop. 

His tongue keeps playing with your clit, driving you well into overstimulation. You try to wriggle away from the feeling, but his arms snake around your thighs to keep you in place against his onslaught. 

"Tongues not tired yet." He mumbles into you.

You're forced to endure another orgasm at the mercy of his ministrations. You howl as he continues to pleasure you, cursing the way you worded your wish but desperate to see how long he could go on for. 

Apparently, his tongue could only last long enough to get you right to the precipice of your third orgasm and no further. You mourn the loss of his mouth on you as much as you welcome it, the uncomfortable heat in your stomach dissipating almost as quickly as it had appeared.

Seokjin removes himself completely from the bed. Your eyes follow his every move, entranced by the delicate way he moves. 

He starts his little strip tease by throwing the fez into your lap. You laugh happily and place the hat on your own head, only for it to disappear from existence a moment later, the wish working to remove all of your clothes from sight, apparently including any put on during the act.

He takes his time removing scarf after scarf from his waistline, casually tossing them in the air so they would float down around him, peeling away the excess layers until he is stood in just the pantaloons and crop top. He puts real effort into his grand finale, shimmying so the coins jingle, casting their golden reflection across the bed before he undoes the zip at the back allowing the sleeves to come loose and the garment to fall to the floor. 

He finds it almost impossible to remove the bottoms in a sexy way under your unwavering stare. Still, he tries. He rolls the top down his waist and shimmies until the garment comes free, falling to the floor with an unceremonious thud as the heavy metal embellishments hit the floor. He loses all pretence then, deeming his teasing portion finished as he kicks the excess fabric from his ankles and climbs back onto the bed with you.

"Are you doing okay?" He asks, unable to resist another kiss before he lets you answer.

"I'm fantastic Jinnie, you?" He nods and nuzzles at your neck, positioning himself the best way he can.

His arms support him on either side of your head, crouching down onto his forearms so he is mere inches from your face. His cock lines up perfectly with your slit, ready to go as soon as he is stable.

As soon as he is sure he can hold his position, he pushes in, filling you to the hilt almost immediately, not giving you time to adjust to his size before setting a brutal pace. It starts out as more pain than pleasure, a sentiment not echoed in the bliss displayed on his own face.

"I think my cock is going to give out long before my legs do Y/N" He confesses.

"After the number of orgasms you just had I'm surprised if you can cum at all, I thought you'd be out for the next week." 

"What can I say, something about you makes me magically rebound." He winks, pausing momentarily to kiss your nose. 

He resumes his harsh thrusts quickly, rocking the bed with the force of his motion. You squeal as he presses upwards to change the angle, hitting constantly against one of your most sensitive areas while simultaneously rubbing his pubic mound against your clit each time he bottoms out. His arms are much more likely to give out at this angle and you can see them quivering as he struggles to remain up. 

He collapses on top of you right as you cum, releasing a large umpf as he smothers you. His cock twitches pathetically inside of you as he releases what can't be more than a teaspoon of cum (there is only so much a magic refractory period can do in the space of an hour).

Not wanting to crush you, he rolls into his early position, nuzzled into your shoulder as you are transported back to his bedroom, clean and refreshed as if nothing had ever happened. You pull him in tightly to your side, completely unwilling to let this man go now or ever.

"Jinnie." You whisper cautiously, testing if he was still awake or whether you might have to wait to talk until later. 

"Hmm?" He responds, tilting his head up to look at you properly.

"We are going to need to be careful from now on." You say seriously.

He sits upright on the bed, dragging you with him. You sit cross-legged across from each other as he takes in your grave expression.

"Have I done something wrong?" He asks eyebrows knitting together in concern.

You lean forward to kiss away the furrow in his brow, a hand comfortingly snaking around the back of his neck as you press your heads together.

"No Jinnie of course not, but that was wish number two..." You explain. "One more wish and I will have to leave, that's how the magic of the bottle works."

"Maybe we can find a way around the magic Y/N, there has to be a way that you can stay with me forever." 

His eyes search yours for a glimmer of hope, but he finds none.

"I've searched for millennia Jin, hundreds, thousands, have tried to harbour my magic for longer than was intended by the fates but all have failed." 

His hands reach up to cup your cheeks, boxing your face in against his.

"How many of those people were doing it for love, not power?"

"None of them but…."

"Maybe this can be different, true love is always the fix in fairytales, maybe genies aren't so different." 

His desperation is evident in his tone. Each word tumbles from his mouth faster as his heart tries to catch up with his brain and the gravity of the situation at hand. 

"Fairytales aren't real Jin."

"No offence but I didn’t think genies were real until you zapped me into a sex dungeon 6 months ago."

You recoil from his grasp and slap him playfully on the arm.

"You did that to yourself! I just got to take charge." You point out.

"And I wouldn't have it any other way. For now though, I'll just have to be extra, extra, careful. No W word for me!" He mimes zipping his lips shut.

You shake your head but concede, at this time it's not like there’s much you can do to prevent what might be the inevitable anyway….

Masterlist

#bts fic #bts smut #kpop smut #kpop fic #bts imagines #jin fic #jin smut #seokjin fic #seokjin smut #kinktober fic #kinktober 22

[alastair-fics]

Object: Matrimony

#luffy x nami #lunami #luffyxnami #one piece #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 #luffy #monkey d. luffy #nami #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #kinktober fic #kinktober one piece #one piece kinktober

[strawbeerossi]

The Ballad Of Dr. Reid

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid

Description: When you zone out in the middle of one of your lectures, your professor asks you to stay after class to check in on you.

Content/Warnings: Power imbalance, Professor/Student, age gap (Spencer is in his 40s, reader is in her 20s), minor hand kink, porn with little plot, heated kissing, fingering, spit, unprotected sex, exhibitionism (kinda, right?), reader gets a facial

Word Count: 1.9K

Kinktober Day Two: Power Imbalance

Navigation || Kinktober Masterlist || AO3

You’d always had a liking for criminal justice, so taking the courses in college seemed like a no brainer. You really liked Criminology 1424. It was an interesting class, one that piqued your interest far more than the other classes you were in the process of taking. 

In addition to being genuinely interested in the subject, you were more interested in the professor of the class; Dr. Spencer Reid.

He was soft spoken for the most part, a little on the awkward side but that was okay. He was experienced from his fifteen years in the Behavioral Analysis Unit and would use cases he’d faced for examples in his lessons. His lectures were long and albeit pretty boring at times but you had no problem watching the man at the front of class talk, his hands emphasizing just how prepared he was for the topic at hand. You’d realized that there were topics he definitely enjoyed getting into, his body language and his overexaggerated gestures being proof of it.

You’d always thought the FBI and the darkness he faced on a near daily basis would exhaust him, make him harder and more stoic, the seriousness of the world on his shoulders. No, instead he offered smiles, helped any student who came to him, and was painfully oblivious to the amount of young men and women auditing the class just to admire the attractive professor.

It was like any other lecture, delving into the intricacies of triggers and what could bring them on. It was a lesson he liked, judging by his animation this evening. You’d done your best to keep up, to get plenty of notes jotted down due to this being on the impending final. However, you were too busy drooling over the curly haired beauty, his veined hands flailing with each word that fell from his lips. 

What you wouldn’t give to have those hands on your body, to feel the gentle touch of your professor as he was letting his fingertips memorize all the dips and curves of your body, to familiarize himself with how to pleasure you.

His hands on-

“Y/N? Are you alright?”

You were snapped from your thoughts. The sound of your name falling from his mouth was like sweet honey, drizzling over your eardrums as you could feel your face heat up from embarrassment. Great. Now the whole class is looking at you. 

“Y-Yes, I’m okay. I’m sorry, just, uh, not all the way here today.” You explained, slowly looking back down at the notebook covered in scribbles. So much for getting any work done today. 

The class passed by painfully slowly after that. Even the attractive man in front of you didn’t seem to speed up the clock. You’d sat quietly, giving up with the notes aspect as you’d switched to doodling on the edges of your notebook. You’d done your best to try and be one of the first ones out whenever your professor dismissed the class full of students. However your shoulders slumped with defeat when the sea of bodies filed out first.

There was no clean getaway.

“Y/N, do you mind staying back and having a chat?”

Fuck.

Mustering up enough courage to face the man you’d gotten distracted fantasizing about, you were approaching his desk. Even up close, he was a beautiful man. Even in his early to mid forties, he still looked delicious. “I apologize for getting distracted earlier. I was just-”

“Looking at me? Y/N,” There was a deep breath that left his lips. “You can tell me if this tie is ugly. My coworker Penelope insisted I wear it. I love her but some of her ties aren’t really my style.” 

He was joking, easing the awkwardness and the unknown tension filling the lecture hall. Maybe he’d been feeling the same way about you. He looked at you a lot as is, however you may have just been in a delusional state of mind right now. There was a hope that Spencer would reciprocate those feelings. “It’s not.. It’s a little ugly but that, uh, wasn’t what I was, uh, staring at.” You decided to just be honest. Worst you can do is transfer out of the class. 

Or run away to a new city, start over again at a new university. 

“Really?” 

“Really. Sir, with the risk of coming across as inappropriate, it’s hard to pay attention to you at the front of the class. It’s not a bad thing. You just always look…” You paused and gave him a once over. “Really nice.” You spoke. 

There was a blush that spread across the older man’s cheeks, an eyebrow raising. “You think so? At risk of sounding even more inappropriate and unprofessional,” He paused as he leaned forward a bit, arms crossed over his chest. “It’s hard to teach when you come in looking as beautiful as you do. Makes me just wanna stare at you the whole class.” 

The words were lower than usual, a rush of warmth going straight to your core from the mere compliment. 

“Plus when you come in with a new lipstick shade..” His lanky body was pushing off the desk before he approached, his fingers resting gently under your chin before tilting it upwards. “It drives me insane. You may think I don’t notice but…” This was crossing the boundary of teacher and student, his thumb swiping over your lower lip. “I do. Makes me think of these pretty lips wrapped around me, those eyes glossed over with pleasure.” He hummed, chuckling at the way your breath hitched, eyes locking with his. 

You didn’t know what came over you at this point, however you could help yourself as you were launching yourself forward, mouth smashing against his in a quick kiss that he seemed enthusiastic to reciprocate. His hands were gripping your waist, pulling your frame closer to his chest as the kiss filled with desire and hunger was escalating.

The next thing you knew, you were being sat against the desk at the front of the lecture hall, your eyes widening. “H-Hold on, don't you have another class??” She asked immediately as she let her hands squeeze the broad shoulders. “Yeah, in twenty minutes.” Spencer responded, hands trailing to the waistband of the pants you were wearing. The thought of having sex in a hall where anyone could walk in at any point was enough to send a shiver down your spine. You weren’t one for exhibitionism normally, however you weren’t gonna turn this down. 

“Fuck it.” Your words made a grin spread across Spencer’s face, his lips pressing a chaste kiss against your lips while working on getting your pants pulled off, panties following in one swift motion. Licking his hand, the older male didn’t waste any time before moving the wet hand between your legs, his spit working as lube as he wanted to make sure you were wet enough for the deed. Lord knows that he didn’t want you tearing at any point. 

The feeling of his fingers brushing against your clit had already sent electricity through your body, a light gasp escaping your lips. 

“Such a pretty girl, bet you haven’t ever had any man pay attention to you, huh? I can only imagine you’ve been with selfish little boys who haven’t even attempted to bring you to orgasm..” He sighed playfully, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips once more. He was addicted, drinking in your moans as his thumb was massaging your clit, one finger pushed deep in your weeping hole while he was working you open.

This was definitely something new, you didn’t really sleep around so the few times you’d engaged in casual sex were quick, rushed. You sure as hell knew that the past couple of dudes couldn’t even find your clit. You were intoxicated on his touch the small movements he made eliciting moans and gasps into his mouth. With your hips rolling against the touch, you let your eyes flutter shut. 

“As much as I hate to stop, we’ve got fifteen minutes and I’m dying to be inside of you.” He murmured against your lips, his hands moving to undo his belt before tugging his pants down his legs, boxers being pulled down soon after. The sight of his hard cock had your full attention. “Ready? You’re sure you want to keep going?”

“Yes!” You rasped, making him chuckle while his large hands were spreading your thighs apart, letting a trail of his spit fall onto your pussy before he was giving himself a few tugs. The thick tip of his shaft was spreading the spit onto your cunt, a hum falling from his lips. So pretty. God, I hate having to crunch time like this.” He groaned while letting the thick head push into your hole, your mouth falling open at the delicious burn that came with the stretch of your inner walls. If only you knew about your professor’s cock sooner.. All the stress of studying for quizzes would’ve been a million times easier.

His hips snapped without warning, a loud moan falling from your mouth while the male couldn’t help but chuckle as he quickly clasped a hand over your mouth. “Shh. Can’t have anyone hearing you.” His hand barely did justice to hide your moans and cries as his hips continued to roughly thrust, the desk rocking steadily with each movement.

“Fuck. It’s like this pussy was made for me, look at the way she takes my cock and is desperate for more. So greedy.” The vulgar words from your otherwise sweet and seemingly innocent man’s mouth was strangely attractive, attractive to a level that your inner walls were spasming around the hard cock nestled deep inside of you, so far you felt like he was hitting your cervix. Then again, you could’ve just been exaggerating. 

With your fingernails digging into his clothed shoulders, you could feel a knot in your stomach, tightening so tight that you felt like the floodgates were going to burst open. 

“I-I’m gonn-” You stuttered, words muffled against his hand while Spencer nodded. 

“I’m almost there. Cum for me.” His words were husky, tone dripping with ecstasy as he let out a low groan. 

As your pussy clenched tightly around his cock, the both of you were letting out a mixture of groans, mons and even a few whimpers slipping from the older man’s lips. It was all too much, finally letting the dam break as you were letting your head fall back, mouth agape as your thighs were shaking, your creamy arousal making a ring around his cock.

There was a little whine at the emptiness you felt when his cock wasn’t inside of you, the male opting to gently move you from the desk before putting you on your knees. “Look at you. Fuck. Stick your tongue out for me. Make sure you close your eyes too. I don’t wanna give you any infections.” Even in a huffing and panting mess, he looked out for you.

Doing as you were told, you let your mouth fall open while your eyes fluttered shut, the male groaning at the sight as he roughly fisted at his cock. There was only a few pumps before his cock was twitching, it being his turn for his head to fall back as he was painting your face with his spent. The load was a lot more than you expected.

Maybe he needed this just as bad as you did. 

As the act was coming to an end, Spencer was trying to catch his breath while tugging up his pants and boxers. He’d retrieved a few tissues from his desk before leaning down to wipe your face, a light hum leaving his lips. “Maybe you can talk to me about some extra notes you could add to your doodle book. Say over coffee tomorrow morning?”

“Deal.”

#criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid fandom #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #dr spencer reid #spencer reid one shot #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader smut #strawbeerossi kinktober 2023 #dr reid #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid thoughts #spencer reid au #spencer reid scenario

[itjazzbicch]

Heaven

Kinktober Day: 1/31

Pairing: Sami Zayn x Fem reader

Kink: Coaching (Basically guiding/teaching)

Summary: As the younger sister of The Usos, the elders send her to be with her brothers and cousin Roman as a part of the Bloodline, accomplishing a new greatness and also finding a specific liking to Sami Zayn…

Theme: I decided to add songs as themes/the motivation behind the fics for Kinktober and so here it is

Warnings: SMUT (18 + ONLY)

Word Count: 2.3k

Taglist: @demonqueen29 @peachy-satan00 @new-zealand-chic @crowleysqueenofhell @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin @thatpanpal @damnnhausen @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @linziland13 @xxx-jazz-xxx @writtingrose @legit9thlunaticwarrior @seeingstarks @rubyred1980

I DO OWN THIS GIF:

“That’s what I’m talking about girl!”

Sami always gave the most support and had me smiling, hitting our handshake after winning my match.

I was on top of the world. The elders sent me to join my older brothers Jimmy and Jey, Roman, and now Sami, as a part of the Bloodline.

My second appearance, Bianca Belair had an open challenge for the Raw women’s championship and guess who won?

Me!

Raw women’s champion and much like Roman, I had my priorities set on both titles. I went to Smackdown and made my presence known, have wrestled on each show weekly. Leaving NXT to join my brothers and cousins was the best decision.

“You know no one can beat me!” I laughed, hugging Sami before we both made our exit.

Once we were backstage, I was ready to call it a night, walking along side Sami as we made our way to the locker room:

“Wanna change, pack up and head out? We’re done for the night so, what do you say?”

“Read my mind,” He smiled, getting the door for me and of course, there was Jey, glaring at Sami but saying to me:

“Good job out there, sis.”

“Thanks, bro,” I looked between the two of them and Jey was about staring a hole through Sami, so I commanded, “No bickering from the two of you. I want to enjoy the rest of the night.”

“No one’s bickering, I promise,” Sami said quickly, trying to slide in with me, but Jey put his arm out to block him after I entered:

“I got something to say.”

“Of course you do,” I groaned, pretending to the ignore them while grabbing my bag and heading to the showers, but I could still hear Jey:

“I don’t like how you’re always on her.”

“Jey, now you’re just being absurd!” Sami protested, “I was out there to watch her back and we celebrated. Nothing more, I swear.”

Gosh, this hatred Jey had for Sami was getting on my last nerve, but thankfully he left it all there with a growl:

“Good. And it better stay that way.”

After getting showered and changed, I was gathering the rest of my things, grabbing my car keys and I noticed that Jimmy and Jey were gone, so I offered to Sami:

“Ready to head out?”

“Just you and me?” Sami looked surprised, intending when I nodded:

“Jimmy and-; well more so Jey, is getting on my last nerve. And I know you don’t want to be left alone with him.”

“Got that right,” He mumbled with a huff, standing and gathering up as well, “Let’s get out of here.”

That put the brightest smile on my face, skipping out to the car, and I adored how Sami could make any moment fun, singing in the car and laughing since we had a bit of a drive and when we got to the hotel and into the elevator, Sami went to leave, till I took his hand:

“Where you going?”

“To my room?” He let me hold his hand, meeting my gaze with curiosity.

I made sure to give puppy dog eyes and asking softly:

“It’s not too late. Wanna hang out some?”

“Guess it won’t hurt,” He couldn’t say not to me, keeping his hand in mine while heading to my hotel room, but he still had things on his mind, “Y/N, I have to ask you a serious question.”

“Ask away,” I kept my eyes on him while putting up my suitcase, a bit nervous but understanding of why he asked:

“Don’t you think us being together alone is a bad idea? You know Jimmy and Jey are. Especially Jey and the last thing I want to do is make Roman angry.”

That made me giggle a little, assuring him, “I’ll admit, they are overprotective of me sometimes, but they don’t dictate me or tell me what to do with my personal life.”

“Why me?” Staring into my eyes deeply, I could see his conflicted emotions and he needed an answer, “I just don’t want-“

“Because Sami, they expect so much of me. They are my family, but when I’m with him, it feels like I have the weight of the world on my shoulders.”

Silence fell between us while I got that truth of my chest, telling him more:

“Like when they’re out there with me during a match? I feel like if I mess up even a little, I’ll get punished and never hear the end of it, but with you? You motivate me to do better, make it a good time, and I don’t have to worry. That’s why, Sami.”

I made sure to smile at him to show that I truly meant that he made me feel that way, a smile forming on his face too.

“I’m glad that I’m that person for you,” Standing up, he came over to give me a hug that I gladly accepted, swaying back and forth softly.

“I never have fun like how I do with you. It’s why I like having you around,” Squeezing him softly and looking up, his growing smile was the cutest, squeezing me back:

“You’ll always have a fun time with me.”

“Oh, I know,” I smiled more, meanwhile my heart was pounding, something deep inside making my hand cradle the side of his face, whispering softly while bringing his head down to mine, “Lets keeping having fun then, hm?”

He sucked in a deep breath when I made a move and kissed him softly, exhaling and relaxing, kissing me back softly, pausing for a moment to assure:

“Y/N, are you sure this-“

“Sami, don’t worry,” Stroking his beard, nuzzling my nose and connecting gazes, I said softly, “What they don’t know, won’t kill them. And you work just as hard as all of us, if not harder. You deserve to relax and have a good time for yourself.”

“I appreciate that,” He whispered softly, still a bit nervous, but I took that away when I offered:

“If you want, you can be the chief tonight.”

“Me? The chief?” He giggled, having me giggle back:

“You, Chief. I’ll surely acknowledge you.”

That kept him laughing, his arms still around me and tightening when I kissed him again, whispering against his lips:

“You’ve never been to heaven, have you?”

Those words had him melting against my lips, able to sense the nervousness vanishing when he whispered back:

“I don’t think I have.”

“Well, tonight’s your lucky night,” Shifting so that his back was facing the bed, I made him sit softly, crawling back with him, “I’m the Angel who’ll escort you. You just lay back and enjoy yourself.”

Sliding my hands under his shirt and up, I had him take it off, kissing down to his chest, saying between kisses:

“The guys have put you through so much, but me? I’ll be your little slice of heaven where you’re the chief, baby.”

Just those words made his body shudder a little, locking eyes once my lips were right above the strap of his joggers, palming his hard-on softly before pulling them down, immediately taking the tip of his cock into my mouth, leaning to the side and sucking hard while he kicked his pants off.

Readjusting, I bobbed my head down softly, taking more length each time, smiling at his slight groan while deep throating his cock, noticing his hand raising then clenching it into a fist.

Picking my head up, I stroked his cock and looked up to him:

“If you want to push my head down, just do it. You’re the chief remember? You do whatever you want. Pull my hair even if you want to.”

“Whatever I want, huh?” Taking a deep breath and watching, I nodded to him, cooing softly while taking his cocky again:

“Whatever you want, baby.”

Quickly, his hand found the back of my head, pushing me down further with each bob of my head, fingertips running across my scalp and holding my head in place by my hair.

Feeling a slight shift of his hips, I made sure to lock eyes again when I tapped his side, holding his hip and motioning it upward.

“Remember, do-“ He already knew what I was going to say and instead of waiting for me to tell him, he pushed my head back down slightly, thrusting his hips upward, fucking my throat softly.

I felt proud, smiling with my eyes closed, feeling some tears forms from the air in my lungs disappearing, but didn’t mind in the slightest.

“You need a moment?” Picking my head up, I did need a breath, still smiling as I exhaled:

“I’m fine. I do have something better in mind, though.”

“And what might that be?” Licking his lower lip, I stood up and gave him something to watch while stripping out of my clothes softly, “Want it a certain way?”

Crawling back on top of him and straddling him, he was taking the time to admire me and so, I took his hands, placing them on my breasts, squeezing along with his hands:

“Feel all over. Nice and soft.”

Listening, his hands were soft against my skin, working down my hips, sliding around to my ass and taking two handfuls, he got his idea in mind:

“Think you can do it in reverse?”

“Think?” I giggled, flipping around and positing myself, leaning down to perk up my ass, rubbing against his cock so he could feel how soaked I was, winking back at him, “I know I can.”

“You’re always so confident,” Squeezing my ass again, there was a slight shake in his hands, instructing to him:

“Don’t be afraid to be a little crazy, Sami. This doesn’t have to be all vanilla if you don’t want it to be.”

His eyes were locked on the sight of me taking him softly, closing my eyes and moaning while sitting back slowly, adjusting to his girth and length, rocking back till I sat on all of it.

“Pull me back, spank me, throw your hips up. Turn all of your thoughts into reality,” Holding onto his thighs, I rolled my hips softly, waiting for him to submerge into his thoughts like he did the first time.

“You know you said you’re an Angel, but seems to me that you’re a bad girl, just full of dirty thoughts ,” He noted, giving me a spank that made a salacious moan jump out of me, both hands on my hips and rocking me back onto his cock faster.

“Maybe,” I giggled out softly, letting my head fall back with moans, leaning back some while his hands slid up my stomach and started kneading at my breasts, “But it’s just so good, Sami.”

“Like you said,” Letting out a huff, he took a grip on me, keeping me still to let his hips thrust upward, sending me into bounces, hearing the lust in his voice, “This is heaven.”

“Amen!” I whined, feeling myself drop and his tip smacking my sweet spot, rocking myself faster along with it to make the coil forming in my core tighten.

Suddenly, I felt him pushing my back down, palming the arch forming in my back, his other hand spanking me and commanding:

“Throw it back just like you were before.”

“Yes, chief!” I had to see the look on his face after saying, looking to see him biting his lip hard, hand gripping my ass even harder, my moans loud and sweet every time I threw my hips back, growing faster and faster as I began to pant, feeling my orgasm getting closer and closer.

“Ooo, I sure felt that,” Mumbling under his breath, we both felt my walls beginning to spasm, having him wanting more, “Come here. I’ll get you back to it quick. I promise.”

It was hard to get up with the shake in my legs, but he found the way to make it easier for me, laying me back next to him, positioning himself on his side, picking up my leg and twisting my hip a little so he could slide back it.

My walls must’ve been clenching hard as he felt like so much more to take, keeping his promise with his hips going rapid, two fingers circling my clit and leaning down for his mouth to close around my nipple and sucking hard.

“Sure kept your promise,” I gasped hard, holding his arm tightly while my body began to tremble, breaking out in goosebumps, moans growing sharp and letting him know, “I’m about to cum! Make me cum, Sami.”

“I told you. I just wanted to see all of those sweet faces you make,” Tilting my head up to face his, he surely got his fix of if, kissing me and pushing me off the edge, “Cum, my angel.”

“I am-“ Another moan cut me off, having to pull my head away for a second and trying to register the intensity of that orgasm, huffing for air while he fed me softer thrusts, feeling him slow down and the throbbing of his cock growing stronger.

“If you want to fill me up, go right ahead,” I could tell he was close, looking back with lustful eyes that were hard to keep open, “Nice and deep.”

“Nice and deep,” He repeated, pushing up and pulling my hips down to keep us pinned, tight in his arms and shaking at the heat that flooded me, my heart about beating out of my chest and panting for air.

“My little angel didn’t go back just yet, did she?” He played, keeping me in an embrace as my body was limp, but it made me laughing, smiling against my kiss to him:

“Not just yet. Never while I’m with you.”

#wrestling #wrestling imagine #wrestling fic #wrestling smut #kinktober #kinktober fic #Kinktober smut #wwe #wwe imagine #wwe fic #wwe smut #Sami zayn #Sami zayn x reader #Sami zayn imagine #Sami zayn fic #Sami zayn smut #read and enjoy #Spotify

[tired-biscuit]

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

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

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

Finding peace in the spontaneous wild (that is you)

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

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

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

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

wc: 26.2k

find part two here!

———

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But that’s all gone now.

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

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

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

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

But so does Kiba.

And so do you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

And new means foreign.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

———

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

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

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

And then there’s the shallow breathing.

Oh, yeah. Right. 

Kiba’s sick. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

3:27 PM.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stop worryin’ so much.”

You blink in surprise. “Mm?”

“I said stop worryin’.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that makes you care for him even more.

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

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

“Are you, though?” you ask. “Fine?”

“Are you?”

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

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

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

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

Continuously.

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

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

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

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, wait, that’s not what I meant—”

“Nu-uh, you said it so you meant it!”

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

Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump! 

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

But you don’t feel like listening right now.

“Hey, what’re you—”

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

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

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

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

It’s concerning.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

———

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

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

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

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

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

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

So you bite.

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

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

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

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

So he stares at you now. Leers. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just like a predator would do to potential prey.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re free to move again. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

As if that hasn’t happened before.

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

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

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

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

“I mean, it wouldn’t hurt to try.”

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

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

“Right back atcha.”

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

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

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

Is it because you’re nervous?

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

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

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

It feels like life is repeating itself all over again.

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

Well, that’s new.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What? It’s just a name, isn’t it?”

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

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

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

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

“Nothin’.”

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

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

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

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

You quirk a brow. “Am I really, now?”

“Who else but you?”

It’s always been you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You object to his genuine affection like an idiot. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s gotten… complicated.

Much like your entire friendship has.

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

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

“Like what?” he asks. As is regret.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“I know,” you repeat. “I’m sorry.”

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

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

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

“Do what?” you ask dumbly.

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

“Today?”

“Did I fuckin’ stutter?”

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

Fucking hell, he’s actually serious about this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What about ‘em?”

“I don’t have those either.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“‘Course,” he says.

“Say it, then.”

“Say what?”

“That you promise.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously!”

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

Even you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why is it so intense?

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

“What, I really did!”

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

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

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

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

———

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

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

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

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

It’s nice to be able to breathe again. 

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

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

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

He wants to devour you.

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

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

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

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

“Kiba?”

“Huh?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh,” he fumbles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, I’m joking.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, don’t do that; I’ll fall!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nothing’s really changed, now has it?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well—”

“Don’t answer that!”

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

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

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

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

“But I don’t wanna.”

“Well, I don’t give a shit.”

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

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

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

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

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

It only makes you angrier.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean by that?” you ask.

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

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

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

But it’s a start.

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

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

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

Thump, thump, thump!

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

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

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

“You’re sure?”

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

Thump, thump, thump, thump!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What an idiot.

———

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not telling you that!”

“Why not?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why wouldn’t I?” you ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

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

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

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

“Sure you do.”

“I seriously don’t.”

“Everyone has a type, though.”

“Not me.”

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

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

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

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

———

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But you didn’t even let me finish!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yep.”

“Absolutely sure?”

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

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

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

“Aha.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, wanna know what pisses me off?”

“What?”

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

“All right, that’s it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to.”

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

“No.”

“C’mon.”

“No, Kiba.”

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

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

“Fine.”

“Fine!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Either way, things are escalating fast.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then what else is there?”

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

Thump, thump, thump!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Never like this.

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

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

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

“What’s wrong?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just say it.”

“It’s so fucking embarrassing, though.”

“Goddammit, spit it out already!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, right. Right. Sorry.” 

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

“Want that?”

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you never do. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blink. “A handjob is new to you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey—”

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

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

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

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

In a way, Kiba feels the same.

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

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

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

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

“Yeah… Just a lil’— fuck, yes, yes…!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ahh, but you smell so good.”

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

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

Ba-dum.

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

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

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

It makes you feel cornered all of a sudden.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s all so slow. Deliberate.

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

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

Higher, higher, higher.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until you’re right underneath him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How in the hell is he gonna fit inside you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stop naggin’ me already and relax.”

“Excuse me?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“More?” you suggest.

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

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

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

Well, he’ll try at least.

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

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

But at long last, you’ve become one.

“Fuck.”

“That feels so—”

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

“I-I’m so… full.”

“You’re welcome.”

“God, do you ever shut up?”

“What d’you think?” 

“I think—”

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

“Ew, ew, ew! That’s so gross.”

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

“Stop poking it!”

“Nu-uh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you’re going slow.

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

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

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

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

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

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

And he hopes it stays that way.

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” he says. “So?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And if I don’t?” you ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I…?” he trails off.

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

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

“Not funny— oh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And neither do you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The realization makes you smile.

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

———

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

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

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

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

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

“Shut up already!”

With his back turned towards you and his hands stuffed into the pockets of his sweatpants, Kiba fights back a laugh as he listens to you relieve yourself in the nearby tall grass. 

After fucking you close to stupidity nearly three times in a row now — and mounting you twice during those three times — the young werewolf feels somewhat content with himself at long last. 

He’s fucked most of the rut out of his system by now. Besides that, you’ve also talked a lot, apologized to each other, and cleared up some misunderstandings. He’s even managed to place a hickey on that spot on your neck where your scent is the strongest and where, he hopes, you’ll let him place an actual bite mark someday.

But for now, you’re taking it slow. On Saturday, he’s taking you out to dinner at that little restaurant by the lake that you’ve always liked visiting with your parents. 

And who knows, maybe after you share dessert together, you might even go for a swim so that he has an excuse to take his shirt off in front of you and you get to make fun of him for it, or whatever.

So lost in his thoughts and all the planning he has yet to start pondering through, Kiba barely hears the rustle of your footsteps when you approach him from behind. 

He tenses, whipping his head in your direction only a millisecond before you manage to put away your travel sized packet of baby wipes that he teases you for constantly carrying around with you, and you place your hand on his shoulder.

Your eyebrows rise up towards your hairline in response to his visible startlement. “Did I just manage to sneak up on the so-called ‘apex predator’?”

“You wish,” he says as he absent-mindedly brushes you off. “I could smell ya from a mile away.”

You frown. “That’s so mean!”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he drawls, sighing. “It’s just that you smell like me, now… It stands out.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better.” You stick your tongue at him, looking up at him with your hands on your hips. In the moonlight, he’s even handsomer than usual in that weirdly rugged way that only he can pull off. “Can we go back inside the tent now? I’m exhausted after the entire...”

“Fuckfest?” he offers with a tricksy grin.

“Shut it!” you chide before you shove your phone’s flashlight right into his face as punishment.

Back inside the tent, you don’t have any sort of trouble with undressing yourself in front of your best friend this time. Your hoodie and t-shirt are tossed off, leggings following soon after — until you’re curling up against his strong chest in nothing else but your socks and underwear.

His body temperature isn’t nearly as hot as it was before, but the skin on skin contact provides you with enough warmth to be comfortable as you turn around to face him.

Kiba’s hair is mussed and his eyelids are already hooded with upcoming sleep when he lifts them just barely enough to look at you. The rut really has taken a toll on him; on the both of you alike.

“What is it now?” he mumbles lazily.

“Do you think,” you start, swallowing hard. “Do you think that we’re going to be okay?”

He smiles, the quirk of his lips faint. “I know we will.”

“And our friendship?” you ask, pressing your palm against his chest. “Do you think all of this is going to ruin it?”

“Nah, I think it’s goin’ to make it even better,” he says, fixing a loose strand of hair behind your ear before he settles back. He yawns, rubbing his eye as he mutters, “Besides, we’re gonna take it slow. Just like you’ve said.”

“And you’re fine with that?” you ask.

“‘Course I am,” he replies sleepily.

“Why?”

“Because you’re important to me,” he says. “So if you want to go slow, we’ll go as slow as goddamn snails if we have to.”

You let out a little laugh that sounds like wind chimes to him. “You’re so lame.”

Kiba grins, his heart fluttering at the sight of your smile. “Not as lame as you.”

And maybe, just maybe, going steady and experiencing peace for a change isn’t so bad either.

tags: @his-sweet-minx @rookie98writes @qichun @redskyvenus @simply-chillin-here @shanjisan

#kiba x reader #kiba smut #naruto smut #biscuit fics #kiba inuzuka x reader #naruto x reader #cw breeding #cw monsterfucking #cw omegaverse #cw knotting #kinktober #kiba inuzuka