from the second you touched down on this side of pandora , it was written in your every step — frightened , fussy little thing in pristine cream cargo pants , swatting bugs with a manicured hand and shrieking at every branch that snagged you .
you weren’t made for this .
you know it and so does he ; your tutor , your assigned na’vi .
he hasn’t even told you his name .
all you know is his glare feels like a knife against your throat and his voice — low , sharp , entirely unimpressed — crawls down your spine whenever he speaks .
“ again , ” he growls , jaw tight as you fail to string the bow for what must be the sixth time . “ do it again , sky girl . ”
your arms ache , sweat clings to the back of your neck , and you’re almost certain something just bit your ankle .
“ i’m trying ! ” you cry , lips trembling . “ it’s not my fault the wood is so heavy and sticky and — ”
his shadow swallows you whole before you can finish ; he steps forward , towering over you , muscles coiled and bare under the thin hunter’s wrap that hangs loose around his waist .
his stripes shimmer faintly in the fading light — an iridescent blue-green that marks him as something wild . something other .
“ you are useless , ” he mutters , voice low and unforgiving . “ spoiled , soft . you think this is your world , now ? it will eat you . ”
you’re flushed , breathless , heart pounding from more than exertion now .
you hate the way his eyes linger when you sweat — how they flick down your body like he’s deciding which part to rip into first . he smells like the forest . like ash and moss and something deeper . something feral .
“ i didn’t ask to come here , ” you snap , chin trembling . “ my father — ”
“ sent you here so someone would fix you , ” he finishes , tone thick with mockery . “ sent you to me . ”
he steps even closer . “ you can’t shoot . you can’t track . you whine about the dirt and cry over your hands . so why are you here ? ”
you blink up at him . lips parted . barely breathing . his nostrils flare .
your scent — sweet , unfamiliar , fragile — makes his tail twitch . the way you look at him like you’re afraid but still too proud to step back makes something snap .
“ i should punish you , ” he mutters , mostly to himself . “ should put you on your back in the dirt until you understand . ”
your mouth parts in soft shock . “ you wouldn’t — ”
“ you think the forest is cruel ? ” he growls , suddenly grabbing your wrists and backing you against the nearest tree . “ you do not know me . ”
you squirm , trying to twist away — only half-hearted . “ you can’t — ”
“ i can , ” he breathes , crowding into you . “ and i will . ”
your pulse jumps as he drags his nose along your jaw , inhaling deeply , growling at the scent of your panic , your heat . not heat in the hormonal sense — but emotional . emotional , and almost enough .
“ you don’t have a queue , ” he mutters into your neck , breath hot , tone almost accusing . “ can’t bond like we do . ”
you tremble beneath him .
“ but you will mate . ” he yanks your belt loose , his hand slipping down the front of your pants like he owns your body now .
“ you’ll mate in the way of your people . i will rut into you until i forget you’re a soft little sky thing . until i make you part of this land . ”
you gasp when he finds how wet you are — because of course you are , he’s massive and angry and so , so close . his fingers sink into you with ease , stretching you as you cling to his arm , already shaking .
he snarls , voice thick . “ you want this . ”
“ no , ” you whisper , too breathless ; he slips another finger inside and your body jerks .
“ then why are you this wet ? ”
you moan . soft . broken . ashamed .
he grins . “ lie to me again . ”
when he takes you , it’s on the ground , just outside the clearing .
you’re on your back in the moss , legs around his hips , mouth falling open as he splits you inch by inch .
he’s too big , the stretch brutal — but he doesn’t stop ; he growls against your throat , hands pinning your wrists to the forest floor as he fucks you with a rhythm that makes the trees shake .
like he’s taming something , like you’re prey .
“ you’ll take it , ” he breathes , sweat glistening on his chest . “ you’ll learn . ”
you’re babbling , tears slipping down your cheeks from the stretch , the heat , the overwhelming fullness .
“ you’ll beg next time i touch you , ” he snarls . “ beg me to keep you . ”
and maybe you will , because even now with his cock buried deep and your body trembling under his , some broken part of you wants this . wants him .
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Seeing Starscreech patting the nest at Bee like that makes me think of him eventually performing a weird bird-like mating dance at the poor confused minibot. Like that scene from How to Train Your Dragon 3 lol
Ah yes makes sense XD But I dwell in more characteristic bird dance.
And Starscreech really put his spark in those and he's also very proud doing that (like most bird after all XD), super serious, like very intense performative dance.
And the super meme bird dances
First from this species and the second one from the famous Bird of Paradise (doing only on night by Star and almost give a spark attack to Bee I guess)
You've Got Stars in Your Eyes so Let's Paint the Sky (Azriel x Reader)
Summary: Azriel “mourns” his wife
Warnings: Az pretending to be angsty (but happy ending), recreational drug use (tho not from Az or reader), gambling, drinking/alcohol, mentions of hangovers, timeline is a bit loosey goosey, a bit of Elain-bashing, guilt. (title is from Hold On by Extreme Music. Fic is not based off of it, but I was listening to it while editing and thought it fit well)
Word Count: 2.9k
Azriel was hardly one to get intoxicated. Yet there he was, sitting around the expansive fireplace with the other members of the Inner Court, tossing back his fifth glass of alcohol.
It was not an uncommon occurrence for the Court to get drunk every once in a while and indulge in pleasure after their missions. Azriel had just returned from a two-week long commission and was slouched in an armchair big enough for his wings to fold comfortably behind him. It hadn’t been very taxing, but the trip had required secrecy. He couldn’t speak to anyone, just having to let his shadows zip in and out of places, returning to whisper in his ear. Admittedly, he had missed his family and couldn’t say no when Cassian asked him to join in some indulgences.
A cloud of weed surrounded Cass as he took another drag. Even Rhys had an ornate pipe between his lips, though he had yet to light it. Feyre sat on his lap, dragging a slow hand through his hair. Mor had convinced Nesta to play a round of cards and the pair had money laid out for the winner. Elain was sitting next to them, awkwardly watching. Amren was in Summer Court, visiting Varian.
The Shadowsinger didn’t like to drink. It usually brought back painful memories at night, though he was able to forget about them during the fact. He liked the sting of alcohol and its taste, but not the effects. The pleasure of it burning down his throat was always welcome, but the headache in the morning was uncomfortable. As he would lay in bed that next morning, memories swirled in his mind, either one’s from the night before or from his childhood. It was a gamble he was very rarely willing to take. And yet, as he watched Rhys finally light his pipe, Azriel couldn’t help but take another down of his drink. He swallowed thickly and the alcohol was like fire. The moment he compared it, he glanced down at his hands. Flexing his fingers, Azriel turned his stare to his whiskey. It was a lovely amber that seemed to glow in the firelight.
Azriel’s eyes wandered to his brothers and their mates. His finger slid around the rim of his cup, sometimes catching on the glass and disrupting his rhythm. His lips pressed together and his gaze turned to the fire. Shadows slowly curled around him, resting in his lap like a cat. They shifted and creeped lazily up to settle on his forearms. One wisped around his ear before brushing against his cheek, like a kiss. A deep sadness settled within Azriel. His heart weighed down as if by an anchor.
He reached up and brushed at the leathers right over his chest, like he was searching for something that wasn’t there. One shadow climbed up to nestle in his hair, before settling down with a wistful sigh only Azriel could hear.
“You alright, brother?” Rhys asked, noting the shift in mood. Feyre glanced towards Azriel, resting her head on Rhys’ shoulder. Elain quickly looked over her shoulder.
The Illyrian nodded, exhaling through his nose. “Simply thinking,” is what he only replied.
Cassian blew out a smoke ring before turning to the conversation. “And what is it that you’re thinking of?”
Azriel only shook his head when he noticed Nesta peering up at him suspiciously. She laid down a card and Mor’s brows furrowed just a touch. It was things like these that one noticed being the Spymaster of the Night Court.
Rhys studied Az’s face carefully. It wasn’t unusual for Azriel to be quiet, but something about this was unsettling. Something was on his mind and there was only one person that made Azriel this melancholy. Unfortunately, the weed was lowering his inhibitions, and he forgot the promise he had made to Azriel when the Archeron sisters had first arrived. “Thinking of Y/n again?” he asked in a whisper, though his voice was powerful enough to sweep the room.
Mor instantly tensed, a contemplative frown on her face. Cassian blew out a long column of smoke, using his full chest to exhale. Feyre stared at Azriel, confusion swirling on her features. She stayed in the crook of her mate’s side, ever perceptive. Nesta rubbed a card between her thumb and pointer, about to set it down. She was the first to speak. “Who’s Y/n?”
The night was silent and it took a long time for Azriel to answer. He pressed his finger into the rim of his glass and the shadow in his hair seemed to deflate slightly. Even the shadows in his lap stilled before curling tighter around their master, either asking for comfort or trying to give it.
“My wife.”
Elain’s eyes grew wide and a thick blush covered her cheeks. Her stare darted down to his fingers, as if looking for a ring. When she didn’t find one, she turned away, head ducking down. Feyre lifted her head off of Rhys’ shoulder and even Nesta looked shocked. The senior Inner Circle, however, didn’t react. They all knew who Y/n was and they loved her dearly.
“I miss her. I miss my wife,” Azriel muttered, staring down into his drink.
Azriel could barely see through his tears. He stood, in a new custom suit, in front of his brothers. He sniffed once and Rhys clapped him on the back so hard he let out a cough.
“Where is she?” Cass muttered from his place behind Rhys. Rhys then turned around and gave him a sharp glare. Amren rolled her eyes at their display and Mor gave Azriel an encouraging nod. The females were standing opposite them.
It was then that the door to the garden opened and Azriel turned to see his mate, you, walk out.
You were wearing the dress you had always gushed about and your hair was styled beautiful. A bouquet of flowers was grasped in your hands, though Azriel could hardly see any of that. All he could see was your eyes. They had quickly become his favourite colour and something he loved to stare into.
The tears finally began to fall. He could hardly remember the words the High Priestess said, too lost in the feeling of your hands in his and how utterly beautiful you looked. You had insisted on a wedding after learning of the human custom. Your mating bond had snapped over seven years ago, but Azriel was more than happy to keep indulging in your wishes.
Morrigan and Amren were your ladies and Rhysand and Cassian were Azriel’s gentlemen, something you insisted was vital in a wedding. You had also insisted on exchanging rings, slipping the band onto his fingers before he repeated the gesture to you.
Finally, Azriel had the chance to kiss you. He had kissed you plenty of times before, even before you were mated, but this felt… more complete. With one hand on your hip, he pulled you close. You let out a giggle as his other hand cradled the back of your neck. His lips curved up into a devilish grin before dipping you low. You let out a lovely squeal, arms looping around his neck, before he silenced you with a fierce kiss.
And so you were wed. And he would never let you go.
Mor let out a sigh, rising from her place on the floor. She stood for a moment, as if unsure of what to do. Eventually, she decided to refill her own glass before offering the pitcher to Azriel. He took it thankfully. “I miss her as well,” she said. “But it does not help to dwell on her, Azriel. It only makes you sad, and you know this.”
“What- what happened?” Elain asked, clearing her throat. Feyre shot her a stern look but Nesta hummed in agreement. As much as Feyre wanted to be considerate, her curiosity also burned.
In response to Azriel’s silence, Rhys provided quietly, “I sent her on a mission. Years ago.” The muscles in his jaw jumped and Feyre made a sympathetic noise, running a hand through his hair again. “I don’t believe Azriel has ever forgiven me since.”
Azriel let out a derisive scoff. He pressed his lips together and gave Rhys an eye roll. However, after a moment, he said, “it comes and goes.”
Elain shifted her position so she was sitting a little closer to Azriel and facing him. “How many years ago?” she asked, her voice calm and consoling. “Do you still have your ring?”
Cassian was the one to answer, brows pulling together like a drawstring. “Only two years,” he said. It sounded like he was scolding Elain, but Azriel didn’t notice, instead focusing on a shadow that was weaving around his fingers.
The shadow drifted up to rest on Az’s collarbone and it dipped down to touch his leathers. With a sad, nostalgic smile, he tugged out a chain that was hidden beneath his clothing. Hanging down from it was a gold ring. “Even before her mission, I thought it would be best to keep it out of sight,” he murmured. “In case I was ever caught. I wouldn’t want to risk her.”
Mor, who had been drifting around the room, gave Azriel’s shoulder a squeeze as she passed.
Meanwhile, Elain glanced towards Feyre, a pleading look in her eyes. Rhys turned towards his mate and let his hand glide up and down her side. Feyre finally asked, “did the bond ever snap for the two of you?”
Azriel’s entire expression softened and practically everyone could see his shoulders relax. He wasn’t sure if it was the memories or the fire that sent a warm feeling through his chest and throughout his body.
You stood on your balcony, doors wide open and arms crossed. You didn’t want to be here. You didn’t want to be at the Town House. You wanted to be at your shared apartment with Azriel, one that was located in the city center. But, seeing as Az was being a stubborn male, you had decided to spend the night away.
Of course, Azriel wasn’t going to let you. You saw his shadows before you saw him. They zipped to you, racing up your body. They twirled around you excitedly and you couldn’t help your smile. Even if you were mad at the Shadowsinger, you couldn't stay mad at his shadows. “You know I love you, yes?” came his smooth, quiet voice from behind you.
You let out a breath and nodded. Azriel came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist. His chin rested on your shoulder and in your peripheral vision, you could see his wings twitch next to you, as if wanting to embrace you too.
“That’s not an apology,” you noted.
It was Azriel’s turn to sigh and his breath tickled your skin. “I know,” he murmured. He didn’t say anything for a long time. Entering your relationship, you were aware that apologising was hard for Azriel. He wasn’t used to making mistakes and was usually so guarded and careful that he didn’t. But you were different. You made him feel things that no one else had and he didn’t know what to do with those feelings. He was bound to make some mistakes.
Finally, he turned his head into your neck and whispered out, “I am sorry, my love.”
That’s when the bond snapped.
Your soul was yanked towards Azriel’s and the centre of the universe seemed to change. Everything was now focused on him. Everything now made sense. And based on the hopeful, desperate expression on Azriel’s face, he felt it too.
“We didn’t see them until practically a month after their mating ceremony,” Mor snickered. Cass let out a loud laugh, the weed making everything seem much more funny than it actually was. Elain pressed her lips together.
Azriel shook his head fondly. His shadows suddenly darted away from him, but he was too inebriated to care. “Shut your mouth, Morrigan,” he muttered, though he was smiling. “What can I say? I love Y/n. It was a nice month.” He took a sip of his whiskey, trying to hide his grin.
Yet, before he could start reminiscing, a knock sounded against the wood of the doorframe. “Az, what are you telling these lovely people?” a new voice spoke up, a teasing lilt in the tone.
Azriel instantly stood. “By the Cauldron,” he murmured reverently. He didn’t notice the Archeron sisters peering curiously at the newcomer as he launched himself into your arms. You were obstructed from view to the sisters as Azriel’s wings curled around you protectively as he held you close. His grip was desperate and loving as he pressed his face into the crook of your neck. “My love,” he whispered out so that only you could hear. “I didn’t know you were visiting.”
You held your mate close, a hand brushing calmly in his curls and your other on his back. “I’m not visiting,” you replied softly. “Rhys said I could be done. With the mission, I mean.”
Azriel had half a mind to turn and shoot an accusing look at Rhys, but he wouldn’t take his eyes away from your beautiful face. “My wife,” he muttered. He took your hand in his and kissed the ring you wore proudly. “Forgive me.”
“What for?” you asked.
He shook his head and pressed his forehead to yours. “That promise I made to you years ago – I didn’t keep it. I let my emotions get the best of me as I missed you. Rhys didn’t deserve my anger for sending you away.”
You let out a laugh that was beauty incarnate to Azriel’s ears and Feyre shared an bemused look with Nesta. Since when did Azriel apologise? And for being rude to his brothers, of all things. To add to it, he had been smiling more with you in his arms than the entire time they had known him. Was it simply that the Shadowsinger had missed his mate? Was there another layer underneath that lay dormant until you were there to peel it back? What was Azriel truly like when the love of his life was home?
Cassian called you over and you exchanged hugs with the rest of the Inner Circle. Mor was ecstatic to have you back – her best friend had returned. You were disappointed that Amren wasn’t there to greet you, but you understood the needed time with her mate. After all, you were sure Azriel wouldn’t let you out of his sight after being reunited.
You were then introduced to the Archeron sisters. You gave Feyre a little teasing bow and greeted, “my High Lady.” Feyre scoffed and swept you into a welcoming hug.
Nesta was next to greet you and you congratulated her on being able to put up with Cassian. Azriel laughed at your joke, arm around your waist. Throughout greetings and introductions, he had never left your side. Every so often, he would place a kiss on your temple or give your hip a small squeeze. He truly was a different man around you.
Eventually, you stood in front of Elain. “Azriel made it sound like you were dead,” she said in hello. Her voice made it sound like she was passing blame onto your mate, but you tried to brush it off.
With a laugh, you said, “well, he gets rather grumpy whenever I’m away for too long. I’m sure you understand.” Some of Azriel’s shadows brushed lovingly along your arms and face.
“He wasn’t wearing his ring, you know?” She laughed along with you, albeit a bit awkwardly. “You have a lovely mate. You’re very lucky to have him.”
You raised your brow and exchanged a look with Mor. “Yes,” you agreed slowly, thinking that was an odd thing to comment on. “But Azriel can choose to wear his ring or not. And he talked to me about it beforehand. We both thought it best to keep our marriage under wraps as we went on missions.” You held up your left hand and Azriel took that as his cue to nuzzle his nose into your hair. “I put mine on only a couple hours ago, when I knew I’d be coming back.”
Elain’s cheeks filled with heat and she nodded. Muttering some things about how she was glad to meet you, she stepped back and towards Nesta.
Impatient as ever when it came to you, Azriel soon ushered you away with the complaint on his lips that your attention wasn’t only on him. He wanted to see you back in your home. After mating, he had chosen a wonderful house special just for the two of you. Over the months, it had gotten harder and harder to live there without your presence. Oh, how he had missed you.
When you were finally alone, you cradled his face in your hands, finally able to kiss your mate after two years. One hand slipped down to pull on the chain that hung around his neck. “I need you to wear this now,” you whispered.
Azriel chuckled and raised a brow. “Jealous, my love?” He pressed close to you, unable to take the feeling of you not cradled in his arms any longer.
“I think I’m entitled to some jealousy,” you replied. “After almost twenty-eight months without hearing your voice, seeing your face, or touching your skin, I get some leeway.”
“Hmm, that you do,” he muttered, slipping his ring back on proudly. “Now, will my beautiful wife accompany me to our home?”
Poor thing, you were on your own, like he was, for too long. But fear not, he's here now, for you.
Warnings: Smut, Femreader, Male werewolf, Dubcon at first (well, you weren't exactly ready for it, okay?), A little gore at the beginning, Stalking, Unprotected intercourse, Light choking, Rough treatment, Canine parts, Knotting.
Wordcount: 1982
Note from Rogue: Well, uh, I guess I have a soft spot werewolves. Mind you, he is not a shifter, he is just a huge ass wolfman. Enjoy.
It was fated.
At least he was convinced it was the moon's doing, the Moon Goddess, finally giving him a mate.
You were supposed to have a nice little weekend, on your own in the woods.
Perhaps you've just had a breakup or need a retreat from everything that has happened lately. To clear your thoughts, to reconnect with yourself.
But oh, who would have thought that you were in for something else
Even on your first night there, it was strange. You were outside on the porch, sipping on a big mug of hot tea, reminiscing on your life while the chill of the night air enveloped you, and you felt it through the heavy blanket around you, too.
He was there.
You didn't know, but he was there, watching.
He was just patrolling throughout his territory, like he always did, when he picked up on your scent.
Camomile, a little bit of lemongrass, mixed with that holy, sweet scent that he had never tasted in the air before
He followed it like a bloodhound, nose high in the air, rushing through the lush foliage of the deep woods, his lanky, inhuman, wolflike form one with the shadows around him.
Finally finding the clearing, he stopped at the treeline, nostrils flaring wildly, his gaze scanning the area, yellow, hungry eyes finally focusing on you.
Oh, you were perfect.
Even mostly covered by the blanket, he knew you were soft.
You had to be, humans are always fresh, plush under his fangs, coming apart piece by piece between his claws.
But he wanted more than that now, not just to satisfy his deep hunger for flesh.
He needed you.
Longing for your presence, for your softness around him, he stood there for almost an hour, studying your calm aura.
For him, you were almost serene; the primal, ancient hunger he had in him seemed unknown to you.
Maybe you were the complete opposite of him, and that drew him more than anything in his rotten life.
It would have been so easy to lounge at you, to take you with him, to claim you right there, on the porch, having that coarse blanket under you.
But he had other plans.
And with that, he disappeared into the night again.
You woke up the next day and decided to go for a walk.
But as soon as you opened the door, you froze, shocked by the scene.
Bunnies, two of them.
But their white fur was stained with dark red patches, eyes open with terror, stiffened bodies pressed together on the wooden floor.
They were drenched in blood.
Disturbed, you called the owner of the house, telling him what you saw, but he just told you that there are a lot of coyotes out there, and they must have dropped it by accident.
(On your porch. Like that. Right. Of course.)
You convinced yourself to get a trash bag and get them out of there, somewhere far away from your little retreat.
(You wanted to go for a walk anyway, right?)
You got rid of them in the woods, hoping that the coyotes would find their leftovers there.
(You didn't buy his explanation but decided to roll with it anyway)
After a while, you almost forgot about the bunnies, and you reached a creek in the woods.
The calm, quiet sound of the flowing water reminded you why you were here, after all.
You decided to check out the little creek sight.
It seemed peaceful, hiding its beauty from the trail; the water likely carved its own little valley, creating two steep hills alongside it.
But something was off, like you weren't alone.
Like a dog sniffing curiously, but it was so quiet it almost faded into the soft sounds of the creek.
Then you heard the low growl.
You turned to the sound, seeing the creature lurking near you.
It was huge, bigger than a normal human, and its body was covered with rough, black fur.
And those eyes, fuck, those yellow eyes, piercing to your soul.
His body was different than a wolf's; it was more robust, lanky, almost humanlike...
Almost, because those fangs that he glared at you for a moment, those couldn't belong to any human.
Muscles rippling along the coarse fur as it shifted its weight slowly, turning to you with its monstrous body.
You were so shocked, not even a sound escaped your lips, you just took a step back, and that's when he pounced.
He jumped into action like the true, primal predator he was, his weight knocking you off your feet.
You were prepared to feel the claws or those fangs piercing through your body, yet you didn't feel any of that.
Finally, a scream escaped your lips, but it didn't seem to deter him; if anything, you sounded like prey, squealing under his claws.
You felt his hot, wet tongue on the crevice of your neck, and his cold nose bumping to your skin as he tasted you, careful not to let his canines graze your soft flesh.
You squirmed under him, finding his weight not entirely crushing you. He wasn't even holding you down properly.
Like he was half expecting you to lie there for him.
And as he sniffed your hair, hot air hitting your scalp and your face as he inhaled your scent with every breath...
...it felt somehow unnatural to move away.
You brushed your legs together, a strange, but not unfamiliar warmth creeping between your thighs.
Oh, and he noticed.
Your eyes went wide as a deep, low laugh rumbled in his chest.
"A willing prey, how delightful..."
His voice was so different, so gruff, it almost sounded like a growl, but you swore you could hear every syllable.
His tongue lapped on your neck again, a clawed, paw-like hand grabbing your plush thigh, almost kneading the flesh.
The sensation earned a whine from you, partly aroused, but so fucking scared.
It made him laugh again, but apart from his voice being like an old building creaking and rumbling, it wasn't as intimidating as it had been when he heard it first.
"You didn't fancy my offering, eh?"
You panted, a bit confused, before looking up into his wild, yellow eyes.
"That was... you...?", you mumbled, not sure what to make of it.
"Don't be afraid, lamb", he chuckled, spreading your legs a little further, slightly lowering more of his weight on you. "We're gonna find out what tickles your fancy the best."
His claws ripped through your clothes.
He didn't understand them anyway. Why would you hide that delicious little body with such things? Why would you hide away from his gaze?
You yelped, but he ignored.
He smelled it, your arousal, the pool gathering between your thighs.
He knew he would have this effect on you.
You, on the other hand, were utterly confused by your own reactions.
But it was too late to back down now, and honestly...
A horrifying, but curious thought is pondered in your mind.
What if you would just let him...?
And so you did.
You whimpered and squirmed as his tongue lapped against your skin, like a hungry animal tasting every inch of your torso.
It brushed against your tits, humming as he felt your plush skin under his muscled tongue, noting the way your body jolted with pleasure as he unintentionally touched your nipples.
He was kneeling between your legs now, your bare thighs slightly touching his fur on his waist.
He grabbed your legs suddenly, clawed fingers wrapped around your knees as he pushed your legs further, revealing your already glistening core to his sight.
You gripped the ground under you, fingers tightening around the mix of soil and dry leaves.
He glared his fangs, almost like a wicked smile appearing on his face, drool gleaming on his sharp canines, dripping down.
Like a hungry dog looking at its favorite treat.
"Such beauty hiding here, lamb."
It felt wrong, it was the scariest scene you ever saw, but fuck, it turned you on anyway, your clit throbbing as he devoured you only with his gaze.
Your breath already hitched as you saw him slowly leaning down, yellow eyes going wide at the sight, a glow, satisfied grumble shaking his chest as he tasted your juices.
You were fucking delicious.
"Sweeter than blood", he phrased it this way as he laughed, his tongue hitting your needy clit one more time, before he hovered over you with that monstrous body of his.
He didn't even have to pin you down now; he knew you wanted this.
As you looked down, you forgot to breathe.
You saw it: angry red, already glistening with precum, and huge.
Fuck, his cock was nothing like you ever saw before, and as it approached your core, you couldn't help but grip his arms that he had leaning next to your head.
You tried your best to relax all of your muscles, and fuck, thank god you did.
Because the stretch was inhuman, it filled you up like nothing before, and for a moment, you feared that he might rearrange your organs.
You hissed, and he growled, deeply, closing his eyes in the sensation, your soft, tight walls wrapping around him so perfectly that it almost made him lose control.
But, oh no, he couldn't break you yet, not completely at least.
Another low growl ripped out of his chest as he started to move.
You moaned, and a clawed hand snapped to your neck.
Not enough to choke you, but enough to make your eyes dart at him.
Oh, and how he loved your teary gaze, your little body under him, completely at his mercy.
His slow, almost experimental thrusts turned into feral, ruthless pounding soon, leaving you a moaning, whimpering mess.
He leaned down, breathing right next to your ear, hips jerking into you with vigor.
It was almost too much, almost too fast, almost too wild.
But it was nothing like you ever experienced, and you already felt yourself lost in the sensation, your mind full of his smell, the way his fur touched your skin, his fangs grazing against your ear.
His canine cock stretched out your pussy so good, you felt like ripping apart, but he paid attention to you.
He didn't mean to tear you to shreds.
He devoured you, in one piece.
Just as when your vision started to blur, the pleasure climbing high in your body, the movement of his hips started to get more erratic.
He was close to losing control.
His hand let go of your throat; instead, it grabbed your hair, tilting your head as he leaned against your neck.
For a moment, you got scared he might snap your neck in a swift motion, ripping your throat open.
But then he just lightly grazed your skin with his fangs, canines piercing your flesh just enough to leave a mark.
Your eyes rolled back as you came, a high-pitched moan leaving your lips.
You never had one only from fucking, he didn't even touch your clit for a while, and he ripped out of you the most fucking amazing orgasm you ever had.
He finished soon after, thrusting his whole cock in you with a guttural groan, and you felt something hot filling you.
And that something stretched you out slightly more, the sudden feeling leaving you breathless, you gripped his arms again, looking up at him with confusion despite your still lingering haze.
He laughed, panting, with a knowing look in his eyes.
"Don't you fret, we'll stay like this for now", he said before his tongue lapped again at your neck, just where he pierced your skin with his fangs.
It was different now, less frantic, more gentle, even nurturing.
"And after", his low voice rumbled in his chest, sending shivers down your spine, "I'll fill you up again."
Notes from the Batcave: I haven’t posted any smut in awhile, and this Inuzuka man has been heavy on my brain lately 🙂↕️
You knew something was off with Kiba the moment you walked into his apartment.
It was his eyes.
Low lidded. Dark with want. Glowing in a way that made your spine tingle, and the tension, all coiled in his muscles like a wire pulled taut, his jaw locked tight as you kicked off your shoes and smiled at him.
“Hey, babe,” you said gently, confused by the stillness in his posture, “Everything okay?”
He didn’t answer right away.
Just stared.
And breathed.
Inhale. Slow. Deep. Controlled, but only barely.
Your scent, your shampoo, the trace of your sweat from a long day, the underlying sweetness of your skin, it hit him like a punch to the gut. And it was too much.
Kiba clenched his fists and forced himself to look away.
“Y-yeah. Fine,” he said, but his voice was hoarse. Rough. Too rough.
You tilted your head at him, curious now. A bit concerned, “You don’t sound fine.”
And it wasn’t your fault, really. You couldn’t know.
Your clan didn’t experience it- this. The early rut that sometimes hit Inuzuka men hard and fast as their instincts matured. It wasn’t quite seasonal, but it was biological. Primal. A flood of hormones that sparked when a mate had been chosen, when bonds deepened, when desire turned to need.
And tonight?
Kiba was fighting every cell in his body to keep from pouncing on you the second you walked through that damn door.
His nose twitched.
You had no idea how good you smelled. No idea what you were doing to him just by standing there in that little top, those shorts, the way your thighs brushed as you stepped into the room. No idea that his cock was already stiff and aching in his pants, twitching with every teasing hint of your scent that filled his nose.
You approached him slowly, not sensing danger, just this broody stillness. You reached up, brushing your fingers over his cheek.
And he flinched.
Your brows pinched, “Kiba…?”
His hand snapped up, gripping your wrist. Gently, but firm.
“You shouldn’t touch me right now.”
You blinked. Confused, “Why not?”
He swallowed hard, “Because I don’t know if I’ll stop.”
Silence.
His eyes flicked down to your lips. Then lower.
Then slowly, so slowly, up to meet yours again, hungry and desperate.
You felt your pulse pick up.
“Talk to me,” you whispered, suddenly aware of the tension in the air. The heat lingering in his gaze, “What’s going on?”
Kiba turned his head and let go of your wrist. He dragged both hands through his hair and exhaled through his nose like he was trying to shake something loose.
“It’s a rut,” he said finally. “Early one. I thought I had more time, but- fuck.” His jaw clenched, “You came in and I smelled you and now my head is just- gone.”
A beat.
You stared at him, “Rut, like…?”
“Like I want to pin you down and fuck you until you can’t stand.” The words fell from him, raw and shameless.
You shivered.
He looked at you like he regretted it, but also like he meant every syllable.
“I can control it,” he said quickly. “If you need space. If you want to go- I’ll be fine. Just give me a few days. I didn’t mean to scare you, I-“
You silenced him with a touch to his chest.
Firm. Decisive.
“Kiba.”
His breath hitched.
You stood on your toes, kissed the corner of his mouth, soft and deliberate.
“You don’t scare me. How do I help?”
And with that, the leash snapped.
His hands were on you in seconds, gripping your hips, dragging you flush against his body as his mouth crashed against yours. Hungry. Possessive. Tongue sweeping over your bottom lip like he needed to taste every inch of you.
You gasped into him and he groaned deep in his chest.
“You smell so good,” he rasped, nosing along your neck. “Like you belong to me.”
Your knees went weak.
He lifted you without thinking, one hand under your ass as he carried you toward his bedroom, quick strides, growling low as you kissed up his throat and tugged at the fabric of his shirt.
By the time he laid you out on the bed, both of you were panting.
“Take your clothes off,” he said, voice wrecked with want. “Please.”
You obeyed, cheeks flushed, and he watched your every movement with predatory intensity. His pants were halfway down before he had the sense to ask, “Are you sure? This- it might get rough. I don’t know how much control I’ll have.”
You bit your lip and nodded. “I trust you.”
Kiba cursed under his breath. Then surged forward, kissing you hard as his hands slid over your thighs, parting them, spreading you open so he could settle between them. You were already slick, and he groaned at the scent.
“Fuck. You’re already wet,” he was already kissing down your body, muttering against your stomach, dragging his tongue along your navel. “You don’t even know what you’re doing to me, do you?”
You whimpered under his mouth, fingers threading through his hair.
He kissed lower, licked through your folds like a man starved, and it broke him the way you moaned.
“Kiba- oh-“
Your voice was too much. Your taste. Your thighs trembling around his head, as he ate like you were his last meal.
He ran his tongue all over you, his fingers rubbing tight circles around your clit as he fucked into your tight hole with tongue.
He groans against your core as your back arches, the sounds of your moans muffled by the way your thighs squeezed his head, the vibrations of his groan going straight through you.
“Fuck- fuck baby-“
His rut instincts screamed: breed. claim. knot. mate.
But he held back. Barely.
Only when you were gasping, hips bucking against his mouth, did he pull back, licking his lips to savor every bit of slick he had slurped up from you.
Kiba shifted himself over you, to line himself up with a shaky breath.
“Tell me if it’s too much,” he whispered, pressing his forehead to yours.
Then he pushed in.
Thick. Hot. Heavy.
You cried out, legs wrapping around his waist, fingers gripping into his shoulders tight as he bottomed out.
“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groaned, “So fucking good. You were made for me.”
The pace started slow, giving you a moment to adjust to his size, controlling his rut as much as he could but it twisting through him like wildfire. Every thrust hit deeper, harder, as he buried his face in your neck, panting, whining softly against your skin.
“You feel perfect,” he growled, “I can’t- can’t stop. I don’t wanna stop. More.”
“Then don’t,” you breathed, digging your nails into his back, “Don’t stop, Kiba. please.”
And that was it.
He snapped his hips forward, fucking you with everything he had. His hands pushed down against your thighs as he fucked you into his mattress. The sound of skin slapping skin filled the room, matched only by the slick, messy drag of your bodies and the broken moans you both made.
His teeth grazed your throat not biting, almost claiming. a silent reminder.
Mine.
Your climax hit like a wave, hot and sudden, clenching around him as you cried his name, leaving creamy frothy rings around his cock.
And Kiba lost it.
He snarled, hips jerking erratically as he came deep inside you, grinding into you as his knot began to swell. His body locked, holding you down as his cock pulsed again and again, stuffing you full with hot ropes of cum.
“Mine. mine. mine,” he whispered, kissing your temple, your cheek, your jaw. “Fuck, I love you.”
You stroked his back, dazed, aching in the best way, filling so utterly full of him, not even fully aware of what was happening as he rutted softly against you through the aftershocks.
Eventually he stilled, when his knot was fully inflated.
Pressed flush against you, panting hard, knot keeping you joined.
His voice was rough when he spoke next.
“Didn’t mean to go so hard,” he mumbled against your skin, “I couldn’t- I couldn’t help it.”
You kissed his shoulder.
“You’re okay, sweet boy. I liked it.”
He pulled back just enough to look you in the eye, blinking.
“You’re not scared?”
You smiled, “Of you? Never.”
He exhaled, nose twitching again, and pressed his forehead to yours.
“You’re gonna ruin me,” he whispered, “Already are.”
—————————
You woke to the weight of him.
The warmth of his skin against yours, heavy breath against the crook of your neck, arms locked around you like he thought you might disappear if he let go.
And inside you?
Still full. Still stretched. Still knotted.
How many times had you gone last night? You weren’t sure. The breaks were short between knottings, an hour or so until he deflated, and was hard and ready to go again.
You blinked your bleary eyes open with a soft sigh, the soreness between your legs undeniable, but not unwelcome. You felt wrecked, raw in every way, but by the gods, you’d do it again in a heartbeat.
Kiba stirred.
He grunted softly against your skin, shifting just enough to nuzzle your neck, licking over the bite he’d left there the night before.
“Still there,” he murmured hoarsely, “Fuck…”
Your voice came out rough, from all the moaning you’d done, “You awake?”
“Unfortunately,” he mumbled, “My body’s finally calming down and now all the guilt’s kicking in.”
You frowned, “Guilt?”
Kiba’s arms tightened slightly around you, “I used you.”
That made you snort, “Kiba.”
“I did,” he said, sounding wrecked but not from the sex this time, “I needed it, I couldn’t stop, I didn’t pace myself- hell, I didn’t even let you sleep-“
You turned your head, eyes meeting his. He looked miserable. Even now, sweaty, eyes still hazy, lips red and swollen from kissing and biting, he looked so genuine in his concern that it made your chest ache.
“Kiba,” you said gently, “I let you.”
“That doesn’t mean-“
“And I wanted it,” you added, a little firmer. “All of it.”
His brow pinched.
“I’m sore,” you admitted, “and you definitely owe me breakfast. But I’ve never felt so wanted in my life.” You touched his cheek, smiling faintly. “You needed me. That wasn’t using me.”
He swallowed thickly, guilt still flickering behind his eyes.
“I could’ve hurt you,” he whispered, “I kept thinking that every time I came back to myself- every time I realized I’d pulled you into another position without asking or started thrusting before you’d caught your breath or- fuck, I just kept going, even when you were shaking.”
“I was shaking because of you,” you said with a small grin.
That earned the tiniest of huffs.
Still, you reached for his hand where it was splayed against your lower belly, tracing circles over his knuckles, “If I’d said stop, would you have?”
“Immediately,” he said without hesitation, “I’d have snapped out of it. Forced myself to.”
You nodded, “And if I needed a break?”
“I’d’ve taken you to the bath. Let you rest. Anything.”
“Then you didn’t use me,” you said softly, your gaze settled on his, “You just… needed me.”
Kiba stared at you.
You could see it then, the crack in his armor, the weight of all that tension he’d been holding since the second he realized his rut was starting. And last night… you let him unleash it. All of it.
Even when he’d growled against your throat and bent you over the bed again, even when his knot hit too deep and he’d growled your name like a prayer, you took it. Again and again.
You were sore. Raw. Split wide open in the best kind of way.
And you’d never felt closer to him than now.
Kiba exhaled shakily, “You didn’t flinch. Not once.”
“I was too busy coming,” you teased, a short giggle leaving your throat at your own joke.
That earned a real laugh from him though. Warm and deep.
“I’ve never had someone just… let me go like that,” he confessed quietly, “Not without panicking, or Not without needing to pull away. You didn’t even hesitate.”
“I trust you,” you tell him, pressing a kiss to his collarbone, “Even when you’re desperate and wild and half-feral… I trust you to take care of me.”
He swallowed hard.
The knot inside you finally began to soften, twitching faintly as it started to deflate. Kiba kissed your temple and slowly, slowly shifted to pull out of you, hissing softly as your bodies finally separated.
You winced at the mess between your legs.
“So much,” you muttered.
He grinned sheepishly, continuing with banter, “you’re the one wasting it.”
Your eyes narrow but there a smile on your own kiss swollen lips.
Kiba leaned up on one elbow, gazing down at you now that he wasn’t trembling from rut heat. His voice dropped a little lower, “Still feel okay? Not lightheaded? Cramping?”
“A little sore,” you admitted, stretching carefully, “But not in a bad way.”
His fingers brushed between your thighs gently, inspecting, not lewd, but concerned.
“No tears. No swelling. Just a lot of…” he bit his lip, “… me.”
You groaned and shoved him playfully, “Don’t say it like that.”
He caught your hand and kissed your wrist.
“I meant it when I said I loved you,” he said softly, that pretty brown eyed gaze soft on you, “Didn’t plan to say it while I was balls-deep and losing my mind, but it’s true.”
You blinked.
He smiled, gentle, “I don’t wanna freak you out-“
“I love you too,” you say barely a whisper.
He froze.
Then grinned so wide it hurt your cheeks just to look at him.
“I’m gonna take such good care of you now,” he murmured, nuzzling into your shoulder, “You’re never leaving my bed again.”
“I do have a job,” you muttered.
“Call out,” he said immediately, already pulling you closer again, “You’re still slick and warm and fuck… I could go again right now.”
You swatted his chest, laughing.
But his hand was already sliding low again, cupping between your thighs.
“Just one more,” he breathed, “Let me make you come one more time and I’ll definitely make breakfast.”
You raised a brow, “Do I get coffee?”
He smirked, “Whatever you want after you’re ruined all over again.”
His fingers were warm, slow, unhurried.
You laid there on your back, legs still parted from where he’d settled between them again but this time, it wasn’t fast or frenzied or needy.
It was worshipful.
Kiba touched you like he was trying to say everything he couldn’t quite say with words. Like he still needed you, desperately, but now he had the control to show you what that really meant.
“You’re still open for me,” he murmured, breath ghosting over your inner thigh as he kissed the soft skin just above your knee, “Still so sweet and wet and- fuck, I could live between your legs.”
Your breath hitched.
He nuzzled between your thighs and pressed a slow, wet kiss to your folds, licking up the mess he’d left hours ago with a reverence that made your whole body ache.
“Kiba…”
“I’ve got you,” he whispered. “Just lay back. Let me take care of you, baby.”
You didn’t argue. You let him.
Let him kiss and taste and tongue you open, soft but firm, gentle but thorough. His hands smoothed up your stomach, fingers splaying over your ribs like he wanted to memorize you all over again.
You gasped as his mouth sealed around your clit and sucked, just once, slow and wet, and your hips twitched beneath him.
“Sensitive,” he said with a smirk, lifting his head slightly. His lips were slick, eyes dark with want, but softer now. Less wild.
“Wrecked,” you breathed.
“Good,” he growled softly, “I want you ruined by me. Soft and sore and dripping with my seed for days.”
You whined and reached down for him, needing more, and he moved up your body with a low grunt, kissing your stomach, your chest, mouthing at your nipples.
“Gonna keep it slow this time,” he promised, voice low in your ear, “No rushing. No rut. Just me. You.”
You arched into him when he slid inside.
It wasn’t as tight this time, he’d stretched you open so much during the night, but it still felt right, the way he filled you so completely. The slow slide of him was overwhelming in the best way, friction melting into warmth as your bodies pressed flush.
“Still so fucking perfect,” he rasped.
Kiba moved slow. Hips rocking into you like waves, deep and smooth, his arms braced on either side of your head so he could watch your face.
Every twitch. Every flutter of your lashes. Every gasp.
“Fuck, look at you,” he murmured, “Taking me so good. You were made for this.”
You whimpered his name, nails digging into his back.
He kissed you as he moved, really kissed you. Deep and unhurried, like he had nowhere else to be but tangled up in you, feeling you clench around him with every thrust.
You were already close. Too close. Your body still sensitive from the night before, and his voice, his heat, the stretch of him, it was too much.
“Kiba, I-“ your voice broke.
“I know,” he whispered, “Go on. Cum for me. Let me feel you fall apart.”
And you did.
You clenched tight around him, thighs trembling, mouth open in a silent moan as he fucked you through it. He was slow but deep, groaning into your neck as your walls fluttered around him.
“That’s it. That’s my girl. Just like that.”
His rhythm stuttered.
And then, after one last thrust, he pushed in deep, moaned your name low in his throat, and spilled inside you again. Not frantic. Not messy. Just full and overwhelming.
He stayed buried in you as long as he could, his forehead resting against yours, breath shaky.
“Love you,” he whispered, “So much. So fuckin’ much.”
You ran your fingers through his hair, soft and slow, trying to catch your breath.
“I love you too.”
Eventually, he softened and slipped out with a wet noise and a soft hiss, you winced, and he was immediately on alert.
“You okay?”
“Sore,” you said honestly, “But okay.”
He kissed your shoulder, “Let’s clean you up, yeah?”
Kiba scooped you into his arms like you weighed nothing and carried you into the bathroom, setting you gently on the edge of the tub. You watched him, bare, glowing faintly with the last flickers of the afterglow, turn the water on and grab a clean cloth.
He knelt in front of you.
Warm washcloth. Gentle hands. Kisses to your knee as he cleaned between your thighs, murmuring little apologies when you hissed from the sting.
You watched him with soft, bleary eyes.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” he murmured, glancing up.
“Because you’re being sweet,” you said, “Even after turning me into a puddle.”
He grinned.
“Didn’t think I had that in me, huh?”
“I figured you’d just knot me again and pass out.”
“Oh, I will again later,” he said, kissing your thigh. “But you deserve aftercare. You gave me your whole body last night. Let me be a good mate.”
You blinked.
Mate.
The word lingered. Echoed. Warm and heavy in your chest.
Kiba didn’t even flinch saying it.
He helped you into a clean shirt, his, oversized and cozy, and tucked you back into bed before climbing in behind you and pulling you close. His hand rested low over your stomach, protective, possessive.
His voice was soft, lips brushing your ear.
“You tell me if it ever feels like too much, alright? The rut. The need. The knot. Any of it. Just say the word and I’ll back off, even if I’m losing my mind.”
You nodded, heart full.
“And if you ever want it like that again…” he grinned, dragging his teeth over your earlobe, “…I’ll ruin you slower next time.”
You groaned and shifted, burying your face in his chest, but your smile didn’t fade.
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