dogtooth :p

Prickling at the bare skin of your legs. You hadn’t bothered with stockings—it was far too hot with it now being summer and the forest gets humid around this time. Plus the walk was long enough, your skin had started to get sweaty and your cloak was enough as it was. Red as a warning amongst all the green and hanging heavy and overbearing along your shoulders.

You stopped walking in the middle of the path. “Mr. Wolf, sir?” You looked around, scanning the tree-line and thick forgery trying to spot a familiar hood. “I’m here.”

Nothing.

Just the whispers of leaves dancing with eachother, the distant eery call of a bird and the own soft exhale of your breath.

You were about to call his name when you heard a branch snap.

Almost deliberately.

A low growl rolled through the clearing, rumbling through your bones and the soles of your feet.

And then whoosh!

One second you were standing, the next you were airborne, a yelp tearing from your throat as something massive tackled you clean off your feat. Your back hit the floor but not hard. A thick bed of moss caught you, soft and mildly damp, absorbing the shock. Your basket went flying, landing a few feet away perfectly upright.

But you couldn’t worry about the goods because a man was on top of you.

Heavy and warm. Pining you to the earth with his weight which was all solid muscle. The scent of pine, earth, and something vaguely wild entered your senses. The fur trimmed hood covered most of his face, the shadow of it keeping it hidden while leaving only his lower face visible.

A sharp, toothy grin full of big teeth flashed bright in the dim light.

You should have scrambled. Should have kicked and screamed for help or tried to throw him off. You were a capable girl, your mother wasn’t going to allow her only daughter to walk through the forest defenseless and full of god knows what. There was a sharp, hunters knife strapped to your leather garter on your thigh. You could very well grab it and jab it in his throat.

Except you didn’t.

Except your body went soft beneath him. Relaxed, even. Legs parting just enough for him to settle between them like he belonged there.

The man pulled his hood back with one clawed hand and lo behold here he was. Messy brown hair, sharp red fang-like tattoos on his cheeks, black eyes with slit pupils and a grin that didn’t bother to fade. It just got wider.

His nose twitched as he leaned in closer, “Ain’t I tell you, Red?” His voice was natural low growl, rough at the edges, vibrating through his chest and into yours. “Call me Kiba.”

You gasped, partly from his brash takedown and partly from the nerve.

“Well, my apologies asshole.” You shoved at his chest. He didn’t even bother to move an inch. “And can you stop—“ His nose was already working, twitching, dragging along your neck like he was dissecting your scent alone. “—sniffing? I do not smell!”

Kiba pulled back just enough to look at you. His nose wrinkled in distaste and his lip curled. “Yeah you do.” He leaned in again, inhaling deep against your throat. “You smell like the muffin man.” His voice dropped, his eyes narrowing. “Fuck you were doing with him, huh?”

You blinked. “The—“ A laugh bubbled up before you could stop it. “The muffin man? You mean Jiraiya? I brought sweets, Kiba from his bakery.”

He gave you a look.

You huffed, “He’s an old man!” At his silence and unimpressed energy, you rolled your eyes. “Okay yes, granted he can be a little…” you pause recalling seeing the supposedly innocent-apron -wearing-flour-dusted-hands bakery man reading an orange book with a very athletic pose on it, giggling to himself and how he not so subtly stared at your tits while you were peering at the cakes. “..pervasive—but he gives me a discount every time!”

Kiba isn’t amused. Not one bit. Continuing to sniff you up and down, “Don’t matter, his old fart smell is all over you—could smell you miles away—gotta get rid of it.” His hips shift, whether on purpose or not you feel him. Heavy and fat and already straining against the fabric of his dark pants and pressing against your thighs.

God he was big.

He licks at your neck, his tongue incredibly hot and wet, the texture rough almost like sandpaper tickling at your skin. You squirm, eyes squeezing shut and he bites softly at your skin leaving the light imprint of a bite mark.

“Kiba—!” You say, breath hitching already getting overwhelmed.

He growled at your interruption, leaving your neck and looking at you. “What? I told you I’m getting his ass smell off of you.” Then his expression changed one that reminded you what he was. A nasty, greedy ol’ wolf. “And you have to pay the toll.”

You should have been scared. From the start really, walking purposely into his dark territory of the woods.

The was the thing about stories.

The tales babble about that Little Red was afraid.

That Little Red had screamed and needed a woodsman with an axe to come save her from the big bad wolf.

But in this story you weren’t scared.

A toll was made. Exactly one month ago. The first time you caught him digging through your grandmas closet about to cross dress as an old lady and play these wicked games. When you cleared your throat he’d jumped out at you, all teeth and growls and bluster and you had looked him dead in the eye and said, “What do you actually want?”

He’d blinked at you. Shocked. Like no one ever asked. Turned out, what he wanted was simple. Even though he was part wolf, he was still half man. And men after-all only want one thing. In exchange for stopping his little terror campaign against your grandmother: the howling at her cabin, the scathing at the door, and the general wolf-ness of him lurking in her yard. You gave him a taste of something he’d never had sunken his teeth into before.

You.

So no. You weren’t scared.

Plus. Underneath that hood he wasn’t that bad to look at.

Your hand lifted up from the ground to trace the line of his jaw. Slow and sweet. The reaction is disgustingly adorable, his ears perk up and his tail makes itself known wagging in a soft, unconscious sway behind him.

Your lips curved, the berry red lipstick on them making them look sweetly seductive. “Make it quick.“ Your voice was steady. Your thumb brushed over his bottom lip, and then over one of those sharp canines. “I have to be there before sundown. Or else Granny will get worried.”

Kiba stared at you, something lustful swirling in his eyes before he nipped at your finger lazily. “Yeah, yeah.” He looked you over, not even bothering to hide the leer in his gaze. Looking you up and down, his eyes lingering on your legs. “You’ll be there knitting and drinking tea before y’know it.”

His mouth was back on your neck instantly. He sucked hard at your brown skin, tongue dragging rough and slow before his teeth sank in just enough to leave another claiming mark. You gasped, your hand now going to his hair tightening in the messy hair strands as he licked over the fresh bite.

His claws, you could now feel them, sharp and ever so carefully cupped your jaw like glass. He bite your bottom lip hard enough to sting.

Then he kissed you, his lips crashing against yours, tongue pushing inside and licking at every corner of your mouth.

Messy. Filthy. Possessive.

He ruined your pretty berry-red lipstick in seconds, smearing it across your mouth and chin while he growled into the kiss.

You’re no better honestly. Kissing him back just as eagerly, thighs squeezing around his hips. At that, he grinned against your lips, muttering in between kisses “Don’t worry baby, you’ll get it soon.” The pet name does something to you, a rush of warmth seeping into your already heated body. His mouth moves to your jaw nipping lightly, “Just gotta get rid of this smell, yeah?”

“You’re just—ah—“ His mouth had moved from your jaw, to be back to your neck sucking a hickey into the nook of soft skin below your ear. “—stalling.”

He huffs a rough laugh, “Nah, I’m working.” His hands—god his hands, large and way bigger than yours with black, sharp claws replacing normal human nails—begin to undo the laces of your bodice. Clumsy with impatience and hunger. “These are in the way.” He muttered.

You should feel bad, your mother sewed you this bodice, this dress, hell even your cloak.

But Kiba was grinning down at you and your bodice was coming undone.

What she won’t know won’t hurt her.

He yanked the fabric down, your breasts spilling free into the warm forest air, nipples already pebbling from his attention. Kiba groaned at the sight, eyes darkening, his tongue darting out to lick his lips.

“Fuck…never get tired of seeing these pretty tits, sweets.”

At his vulgar comment you exhale, fingers carding through his hair before scratching at his ear. The reaction is immediate, his eyes meeting yours, before you push his head down to them. “Well. Be a good doggy and suck ‘em.”

For once he doesn’t spit out a cocky comment, if anything you can basically feel the you don’t gotta tell me twice energy rolling off him as he ducks his head down quickly.

He latches onto your dark nipple like a newborn baby, sucking hard while his hand kneaded the other one. His tongue swirled and licked at it, the texture pleasurable while his sharp teeth grazed just enough to make your back arch off the moss with a whimper.

He switched sides, sucking and licking again until both your nipples were shiny with his spit and marked with little bites. Your hands stayed in his hair, scratching behind his sensitive ears. His tail started wagging again, thumping softly against the ground as he let out a needy little whine against your breast.

“Shit—keep doing that baby,” he groaned, voice muffled.

You did while he licked at your underboobs, not caring about the sweat gathered there—you’re pretty sure he liked the taste. He gave a couple more of those cute little whines as his bit into your skin.

His lips finally left your breasts looking at them almost solemnly, like he was shortly mourning having to stop before his gaze traveled down the rest of your body.

His eyes were now fully dark and predatory. The vertical slits looking more prominent than ever, he met your eyes and grinned. Sharp, wide and wolfish.

“I’m gonna eat you.”

It was not teasing. Nor was it a flirty joke. It was a statement. He was dead serious.

You felt shivers crawl up your spine, not out of fear but out of excitement. A pretty grin of your own came onto your face as you spread your legs wider, “Yes please!”

He growled. His hands already grabbing at your white dress pushing it up before he disappeared under the skirt, his head completely hidden beneath the white cloth. You felt his hot breath first. Then his teeth at your inner thigh, a bite.

You squeal, smacking his shoulder. “Kiba I swear to brother grimm—ah!”

His tongue that charming appendage presses flat against your panties, licking a slow, broad stroke up your covered pussy. The fabric was soaked already, and he groaned loudly at the taste, licking you through the white-lacy material like a starving animal.

“Kiba..baby..” you moaned, hips twitching.

You heard him laugh, the sound muffled and right against you. “Ohhh, getting all sweet with me, huh?”

You nodded aimlessly, while you felt him use his teeth to pull your panties down. Slow and deliberate. His claws guided the fabric over your hips, your thighs and your knees. You watched him watch you from holding yourself up using your elbows. The moss was almost like bedding.

You watched his pupils blow wide when the mound of hair between your legs was revealed and his tongue once again darts out to wet his lips. He didn’t hand them back. He folded them—folded them, neat and precise like he was handling something precious—and tucked them into the pocket of his pants.

“Safekeeping,” he said, “you’ll get them back when we’re finished.”

Before you could respond, he blew a cool gust of air against your pussy. “I’ll huff and I’ll puff!” The three little pigs certainly didn’t get this type of treatment.

The sudden cold air made your legs shiver and thighs press together, a surprised whimper leaving your throat. Kiba chuckled darkly at your reaction, before grabbing your legs. “Put ‘em on me.”

You obeyed, easily placing both of your legs on his shoulders as he leaned down to get more comfortable.

His tongue easily dragged through your already slick folds, hot and rough, lapping at your wetness like it was the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted. He licked from your entrance up to your clit, circling the bud of nerves before sucking it. Your back arched hard, fingers gripping his hair tighter as you moaned loudly.

He didn’t stop there, Kiba pushed his tongue inside you, spearing and fucking you with it—thick, wet strokes that had your thighs easily shaking around his head. It was one thing to feel it at your throat and neck, but inside of you? Truly inside—god it was blinding with its pleasure it gave you.

You found yourself grasping the moss bed beneath you and your head lolling to the side. The obscene sounds of him slurping and growling filled the clearing as he ate you like a mad man possessed.

His nose bumped against your clit with every thrust of his tongue, and his hands gripped your thighs, holding you still and wide for him to bury his face deeper.

“Kiba—baby—yeahhhh, just like that oh my god—!” You cried out.

He moaned into your pussy, the vibration shooting up your spine. His tail was wagging wildly now, thumping against the moss as his tongue fucked you harder, his thumb now joining in on the play, messily thumbing your clit.

You jolted, a high pitched pornographic moan leaving you. “Yes! Yes! Kiba—“

He didn’t let up. If anything, he got more enthusiastic. His thumb pressed harder against your clit, rubbing ruthless circles while his tongue curled inside of you, reaching deeper than you thought was possible. He growled against you, the sound vibrating through your entire body, and you felt yourself on the edge.

“Fuckin’ drenching me, Red,” he rasped, pulling back just enough to speak against your cunt, his breath hot. His black eyes flickered up to yours, pupils blown so wide the slits were barely there. "You taste better than anything that old perv's got in his bakery."

He then doubled down. Tongue plunging back in, deeper this time, curling and lapping like he was trying to drink you dry. The sandpaper texture dragged over every nerve you had and some you didn't know existed. Your thighs clamped around his head, heels digging into the fur trim at his shoulders, and he moaned like you were choking him and he loved it.

His claws bit into your thighs, not enough to draw blood, but it would leave red pinpricks. To brand you. Another mark to add to the collection blooming across your neck, your chest, your breasts.

"K-Kiba-'m gonna—" Your voice cracked, hips jerking up to meet his mouth. The forest spun. Somewhere a bird took flight, startled by the wrecked sounds tearing out of you because apparently the sounds of nature happening wasn’t enough to leave till now.

"Yeah the fuck you are," he snarled against you, and then his mouth sealed over your clit and sucked while two thick fingers—the claws quickly retracted—shoved inside you, curling up hard.

Your back bowed off the moss, a yell ripping from your throat that he loved. You cummed on his face, sobbing his name, your hand went back to his hair—nails scraping against his scalp as your pussy pulsed around his fingers.

He didn’t let it up. He kept sucking, and fucking you through it, lapping every drop like he was dying of thirst and you were the only water left in the world.

When your trembling finally started to ease, he pulled back slow, lips and chin glistening with you. He took his fingers out, licking them clean with one long, obscene swipe of his tongue, eyes never leaving yours.

"Fuckin' delicious," he said, voice rougher than usual. His tail was still going, thumping hard enough to rustle the moss.

You tried to catch your breath, chest heaving, your bodice still shoved down and your dress now hiked around your waist. Your legs slid from his shoulders, boneless, but he caught your ankles and draped them over his hips instead.

And that's when you felt it again.

Heavy. Fat. Hard. Pressing right where you were still fluttering and sensitive, only his pants fabric separating you from him. He'd popped like a cherry at some point—probably while you were busy screaming— and now the thick, wet outline of him still strained against his pants.

"Kiba," you breathed, eyes dropping to where your bodies met. He was big. Stupid big. The kind of big that made your mouth water and your stomach clench in equal measure.

He grabbed your jaw, a rough “C’mere,” leaving him before he was kissing you again. It was sloppy, nasty, and perfect. His tongue pushed deep into your mouth, making you taste yourself. You moaned into the kiss, sucking on his tongue while your hands roamed his back, feeling the hard muscles through the fabric of his cloak.

He finally pulled your red cloak all the way off, tossing it aside like it personally offended him. Your long, curled braids spilled across the moss like dark ribbons, your baby hairs sticking to your sweat slicked forehead. Kiba eyes focused even more at the sight.

“Pretty girl, aren’t you, Red?” He rasped, one of his fingers going out the play with the curl of your braid before letting it bounce back.

You smiled up at him, breathless and glowing from your orgasm. Although, you could barely catch your breath before he stood up and then tugged you up with him. You wobbled, hands immediately grasping at his chest. He grinned at you wolfishly, “You smell like sex and me which is good,” He growled, nose twitching as he inhaled you, “but it’s not enough.”

Before you could tease about how greedy he is, his big hands gripped the back of your thighs and lifted you clean off the ground. Your legs wrapped around his waist instantly, ankles locking at his lower back. You huffed, arms circling his neck as you held on.

“The tree again?” You asked, already knowing the answer.

“Hell yeah,” He started walking, carrying you like you weighed nothing. “I’m getting two things done at once. Marking my territory.. and watching those pretty tits bounce while I fuck you stupid.”

He pressed your back against the thick, sun warmed oak tree. The rough bark scraped lightly against your skin through the thin fabric, a sharp contrast to Kiba’s warm, solid body. He shoved your dress up around your waist again, yanking his pants down just enough to free his cock.

You looked down and Brothers Grimm and Three Fairy Bell Sisters.

You bit your lower lip, half apprehension, half raw drooling hunger. His hand was wrapped around the base and it was hefty. One of the main reasons you kept taking this route instead of the safer one.

Kiba didn’t shave—thank god—there was the perfect amount of thick, brown shaggy hair at the base of his manhood. His cock was long and fat, tanned skin stretched tight over pulsing veins, the fat pinky-red mushroom head already glistening with cum.

Kiba noticed you staring and gave himself one slow stroke, Schlick. smirking. “Like what you see, Red?”

You once again didn’t get to answer.

He rubbed the head up and down your soaked folds, coating himself in your slick with filthy, wet sounds. He circled your clit with it, making you jerk and whine, then rubbed it against your gaping, cum-slick hole, pushing in just the tip before pulling back. Teasing. Coating himself until he was dripping with you and thrusting up into you with one powerful, merciless thrust.

“Sweet moons—!” you cried out, back arching hard against the tree bark as he stretched you open. The burn was intense, perfect, toe-curling. He was so thick it felt like he was splitting you in the best way possible, stuffing you so full you couldn't breathe. You could feel every vein, every twitch.

Kiba groaned deep in his chest, a guttural animal sound, burying his face in your neck. His teeth scraped. "So fuckin' tight... always squeezing me so good. Love this slutty pussy.”

He didn’t wait. He started fucking you against the tree—deep, brutal, relentless strokes. Every powerful thrust slammed you back against the bark, making your breasts bounce wildly between your bodies, just like he wanted.

The wet, filthy slap of skin on skin and the obscene squelch of his cock punching into your sloppy pussy echoed through the woods with every snap of his hips. You were so wet he was sliding in to the base with no resistance, just the obscene sound of your bodies fucking.

Your hands flew up into his messy brown hair, fingers finding those soft, sensitive ears. You scratched behind them just right.

Kiba whined.

A needy, broken sound vibrated right against your throat as his tail started wagging like crazy again behind him, thumping hard against the tree. Thud. Thud. Thud. Perfectly in time with his thrusts.

He moaned, voice cracking, hips stuttering. "Fuck, I love your hands on my ears— gonna make me cum so fast, fuck—"

You kept rubbing and scratching them, smiling gleefully through your moans and sobs while he pounded into you. The contrast was filthy and dizzying, his pathetic little whines while his thick cock destroyed your pussy.

He was drooling on your neck, before he bit down on unmarked brown skin, hard enough to bruise this time, sucking and growling. Leaving another fresh dark mark as he fucked into you. “Mine. This pussy is mine. You hear me? Gonna cum so deep everyone in these woods and Storybrook will know who the fuck you belong too. You’ll be walking around smelling like my cum and memememe.”

"Kiba-baby—right there! Fuck, don't stop—!" you sobbed, legs locked tighter around him, heels digging into his back, your cunt spasming around him. “Gonna cum baby—“

He shifted his angle, hitting that perfect spot with every thrust, the fat head of his cock dragging against your g-spot relentlessly. Your braids and tits bounced with every punishing stroke, your nails scraping harder against his scalp and ears. He reached between you, thumb finding your clit and rubbing brutal, fast circles. "Cum on my cock again. Wanna feel you gush all over me, baby. Make a fucking mess of me."

When your orgasm crashed into you, it hit like lightning.

You screamed his name, pussy gushing around his cock, a hot flood of your cum squirting out around him, soaking his pelvis, running down his balls. Your walls clamped down on him like a vice, milking him.

Kiba snarled in pleasure, fucking you through it, his thrusts turning sloppy and desperate before burying himself to the hilt. With a long, guttural, broken moan against your marked throat, he came hard—thick, hot ropes of cum flooding deep inside you, painting your walls. He pumped you full, filling you until it overflowed, leaking out around his still-thrusting cock and dripping in thick white rivulets down your thighs, mixing with your own release.

He kept grinding into you slowly, tail still wagging lazily, weakly, as he licked over all the fresh bites and hickeys he'd left behind, tasting your sweat. His cock twitched inside of you, feeding you another spurt of his cum. You could feel how full you were. Bloated with him.

Everybody in Konoha knows his voice.

He’s up there with Naruto and Lee and Might Guy on the unofficial-but-everybody-knows-it ‘shut the fuck up’ poll. Coming in at a solid third place with that unmistakable Inuzuka growl, deep and rough, always paired with a cocky grin pulling at his lips, laughing too hard at his own jokes, the whole village can pick him out in a crowd blindfolded.

But Kiba’s quiet the most when you put that pussy on him.

Dead fucking silent.

The second your thighs clamp tight around his ears and you drop your weight with no sign of that polite “but what if I suffocate you?” or “are you sure?” crap—you couldn’t careless even if somebody slid a stack of ryō across the table.

You want him to suffocate.

You grind slow and mean against his mouth all of that yapping on hold. Like someone decided to hit mute on the loudest dog in the pound. His hands—rough and calloused from years of training and fighting, turning fingers into claws and wielding kunai—dig into your hips, not to push off (never to push off) but to pull you down harder. Deeper. Like he’s tryna fit her in his entire mouth.

“Shut all that shit up, huh?” You murmur, fingers twisting in his messy brown hair, yanking his head back just enough so he can breathe for half a second. His eyes, those sharp-feral red brown things are swallowed up by the black of his pupil— roll up to meet yours.. Cheeks flushed dark under those red face markings, he doesn’t talk back, doesn’t bark some smart ass comment. The most he gets out is a raspy, “More,” barely audible before you sink back on him, his lips parting wider, tongue flat and greedy, lapping like a man tasting an oasis.

You rock forward, smearing yourself across his face, clit dragging over the sharp bridge of his nose, then right back down so his tongue can spear inside. He groans, low and muffled, vibrating right against your folds, wet from his nonstop slobbering and your cum mixing together.

That’s the only sound he can afford to make. Hungry little nosies he can’t hold back when you really start riding.

He likes being suffocated.

Loves it actually.

The way your pussy lips spread over his mouth, cutting off his air until his lungs burn. The way your weight pins him to the bed, the way his chest heaves under you, ribs straining, but his grip never loosens.

He never taps out. That’s for weak bitches.

If he dies here, tongue buried deep, nose smashed against your clit, best believe he’ll go out the happiest motherfucker in Konoha.

“Thought you had so much to say earlier?” You tease voice filthy sweet, rolling your hips in a slow, deliberate circle that makes his eyes flutter shut. “All that yakety-yak hmm, baby?”

He doesn’t answers with words. He answers by sucking your clit between his lips—hard—humming deep in his throat so the vibration hits you like lightning. A yelp leaves you chased by a breathy moan, “Uh-huh—“ as your eyes squeeze shut. His nails bite into the meat of your ass (no doubt will leave lil marks later), spreading you wider, tongue spearing you down in and out sloppily, frantic strokes while his nose nudges against against you everytime you grind down.

You curse under your breath, a blissful grin breaking out unto your face when you feel your walls clenching trying to catch his slippery tongue like you never want him to leave, “Kibaaa,” you say, saying his name in a sing-song manner, all sweet mockery, looking down at him—amused as hell by how his cheeks puff against your inner thighs, face buried so deep he looks like a damn chipmunk stuffed full of you. “M’gonna cum, you want that?”

At that his whole body jerks at your words, one quick look over your shoulder confirms your theory. He’s hard as a brick right now, cock throbbing untouched against his thigh, and a fat damp spot blooming through his boxers. He’s so gone, hips twitching, damn near humping the air in helpless thrusts, getting off purely on your taste, the pressure, the way you’re using his face.

You don’t lift your hips up to give him time to beg.

You grind—full weight, almost careless—against his face, thighs locking like steel around his head. His muffled groan vibrates right against your clit, tongue never stopping, wanting to drink every drop as you begin to shake.

Your walls flutter hard, and then you feel it—that hot-tight-coil burning low in your stomach—“Gonna cum—gonna cum baby, all in your big fuckin’ mouth—“ you cut yourself off as a high pitched “—ah!” jumbles your words. You feel yourself gush into his mouth, down his chin, probably some on the sheets as well as you ride out that high, thighs trembling around his head, curses spilling from your mouth in broken gasps.

He cums untouched right after, body bucking violently beneath you, thick ropes spilling into his boxers, hips jerking while he chokes on your orgasms.

When you finally lift just enough for him to drag in a desperate, wheezing breath his facial expression something you giggle at. His lips are swollen, chin dripping with your cum, his whole face flushed, eyes glassy like he just discovered his new religion. He pants like he ran ten laps around the entire village, tongue darting out to lick his lips clean, wanting to get every bit of you.

“You okay, Kiba? Did I do too much?” You tease lightly, already knowing the answer.