A/N: This has been written for Kinktober 2021 and today's prompts are Dacryphilia & Beastiality ✨ Due to the nature of this challenge, I've only done the most cursory of proofread.
Content Warnings: non/dub-con, wolfed out sex in a fully wolf form.
Some days, she's tempted to let the current carry her away. Lovely, cool water, warmed just enough by the sun, laps across her skin as she allows the water to take the weight she carries, physical and figurative. This is the only time Hinata feels true peace, free of her worries, her wants, her responsibilities and her failures. It would be almost too easy to waste away all of the daylight, let time slip away alongside everything else. Of course, she'd never truly follow the impulse. She loves her family, friends, her village too much to abandon them, like that.
The hot sun is a lovely balm when she leaves the water, a faint wind only enough to make her feel the slightest lick of cool. Stone burns against her skin when she reaches to grab her clothes where they've been folded and placed atop the boulder and freezes. There's something behind her. She hears it coming closer, stepping out of the nearby brushwood. She turns, slow, cautious, just as her father always taught them, no sudden movements, and finds herself facing a wolf of considerable stature. It steps closer and her mouth goes dry, heart beating with enough force to make her chest ache. Hinata is used to animals, used to living in cooperation with nature, they all are, but to be alone with something that could tear her to pieces as easily as she might flay a fish, it's something else.
A wet nose presses itself against her hand and she runs trembling fingers up along the snout to scratch the top of the wolf's head. It keens against her touch and when it raises its head to look at her she's struck by a strange familiarity. Something in her mind protests, tells her it's unwise, but she relaxes, a little. Allowing herself some liberty, still moving slow with caution, to bring her other hand up, scratch at the wolf's chin and jaw as it pushes itself into her touch, seeming pleased. When it pushes forward to push its cold nose into her belly and lick across her skin it startles a laugh out of her, a little nervous, a little ticklish. A sharp current of fear follows in its wake, but the wolf doesn't react and she allows the heavy breath she'd held to leave her.
"Hey there," her own voice sounds almost foreign to her, she's been so caught up in the silent tension of her nerves, "you're not here to hurt me, are you? You just want to say hello,". The noise which follows reverberates from deep in its chest and out against Hinata's skin. It's intimidating, but not frightening. It's as though the wolf is answering her, understanding her. Has she gone out of her mind, she wonders? Lost her grip? The wolf bends to nose between her thighs and she's brought sharply back to the present moment, flinching back from the wet snout only to meet rock, no space to get away.
"No!" she gasps, shocked and humiliated, even with no one to see. It feels as though she's doing something wrong. "No, no, bad- bad dog," she can hear the nervousness in her own voice as she tries to push the wolf's head away. It doesn't budge, and when she pushes harder its lips curl, snout twitching as a low growl emanating from its throat. "Okay," she breathes, knowing it's nonsensical to be speaking to it, like this, "okay, it's fine. Okay."
She tries to find comfort in her own platitude as the wolf pushes further, nosing at the curls there to part and brush against skin no one else has touched while she tries not to cry. It's natural, she tells herself. This is how dogs behave, how they greet, it'll stop in a minute. Her hands scrabble against the burning rock and she bites at her cheek, trying her best to hold back any reaction which might startle the wolf. She tries to close her legs but it does nothing but hold its snout in place. When a long tongue drags across her she cries out and pushes back against the wolf's head, both relieved and horrified when its only reaction is to press harder, lick across her again.
I can't stay here, she thinks. I have to get away.
With a hard shove, she manages just enough leeway to turn and scramble halfway up the rock before losing her grip. There's hardly a minute to lament her bloodied palms and scraped knees before the wolf is back, licking her up and down, wet tongue sliding between her folds and sending a nauseating shiver up her spine. With every sweep of its tongue something horrible and heavy curls tighter inside her gut. She weight of shame in her chest makes it feel as though she's collapsing in on herself. How can she allow this?
The wolf pulls back and she thinks, for a moment, it might leave, but sharp teeth close, firm but careful, over her ankle and drag her back. She claws at the ground, trying to pull herself upright again and only makes it to her hands and knees when the wolf plants its paws against her back and forces her down with its weight. It hurts, her palms, her neck, her back, and she tries desperately to find footing, knees sliding and pushing against the ground. All it does is call attention to the fact that she's gone slick between her thighs. The tears which blur her vision finally begin to fall, at that, and she can acknowledge that the sick roil of shame and humiliation weighing her down is anchored by arousal. She feels disgusted with herself.
Above her, the wolf growls low and shifts, when she feels the wet heat of its arousal brush across her skin she freezes. I'm just trying to stay alive, she tells herself, but the part of her mind which is so desperate to break free of the expectations she carries asks what for. What is she worth, after this? Who could want her? She almost wishes it would just get it over with. Every second of anticipation is one more moment to imagine the worst, to take in everything around her. Claws digging into her back, panting, the smell of the fresh earth under her cheek, the sound of the nearby stream, usually such a comfort, now robbed from her.
It pushes forward and when her legs slip further open she desperately swears to herself it's not in invitation. Then, she thinks nothing at all. Can't feel anything past the stiff heat pushing inside, where even she doesn't know her own body. The pain isn't there like she thought it would be, and somehow, that's the worst part. Without the pain, she's unable to ignore the knot of pleasure which tightens inside of her with every thrust. It's impossible to focus, too lost in the hysteria of what's happened, in the pleasure which makes her sick, she fights the bile which rises in her throat and does her best to retreat into her mind.
She doesn't know how long it's been when a sharp pain catches at her. It takes a moment to understand what's happening but when she does it drives a wounded noise up from somewhere deep, drawn-out further as the wolf grows inside of her, locking them together as it continues to grind down into her hips with short, sharp thrusts. When something bursts, hot and wet, through her, the wave of her own pleasure breaks and rolls through her. It's near enough to make her sick. Without even the build of pleasure to distract her from the full weight of her reality, her position, sinks in and she's overcome with the urge to tear herself away, leave her own skin and never look back.
It's not until she stops that she realizes how much she's been crying, but the shift against her is enough to give her pause. The weight against her changes and she's stretched further where they're joined, suddenly faced with the feel of skin on skin, it's-
"Hinata?" his voice is full of many things.
"Kiba?" when she speaks, her throat feels raw.
"Hinata, oh, god-" he moves and catches, pulls a hurt sound from her, "shit, shit. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Hinata. Please, here, let me-" she can hear, feel how frantic he is and she allows him to move them, arrange them so they're laid out on their sides and she can find some relief in all the places her body is worn and aching. His hand is on the ground in front of her, giving him just enough leverage not to touch her anywhere he doesn't have to. "I hurt you," he sounds close to tears, she wishes she could see him. "I should have warned you. I knew-"
"It's okay," she hates to hear the wobble of her own voice.
"It's not, Hinata. How could you ever-"
"Kiba, it's okay," she promises. The oddest thing is, she means it, in a way. It's- shameful, what's happened. But knowing it's him, knowing it wasn't a stranger, a- an animal. This isn't what she would have chosen, but it is, at least, who she would have chosen. "It's you," she reaches up and behind herself to tangle her fingers in his hair, try to show him it's alright. "I'm alright, if it's you."
"Hinata," the way he sounds wrecked makes her heart heavy. She wants to scream, with what's happened, with this, she's not sure how she feels, anymore. "Can I-" he doesn't finish, but he brings his hand closer, leans in, asking permission to hold her closer.
"Yes," she nods, quietly, and sighs when he carefully brings them together, allowing herself to relax back into the familiar feel of her friend in a way which feels entirely new. He's softening inside of her, slowly. Not so much to slip away, just yet, but enough that she's less distracted by the feel of him. "When you- when you said you should have warned me, what did you mean?"
She hears the way his throat clicks when he swallows, feels him squeeze her a little tighter.
"The full moon. When it comes, we're more connected to-that is, I just- I knew I would probably try to find you, is all."
"Oh."
"Yeah."
"Why this full moon? Why not before?" Kiba begins to speak, stops, starts again, stops again. Hinata waits. Some part of her tells her she shouldn't be so calm, about this, about anything, but she is.
"Usually," he begins again, a little louder, this time, like he plans to force himself through the explanation despite himself, "if you're not with your- your mate, the pack keeps you secluded so you don't, uh, do this. Hurt anyone."
"Oh." that's- "and you couldn't find them? Your mate?" she hopes her voice doesn't sound as small as it feels.
"No, Hinata, that's- come on," she doesn't say anything. She feels too close to falling apart. "Hinata it's- you. You're my mate." a warm feeling sprouts somewhere in her chest and she clings to it, desperate to draw from it whatever comfort she can. "If you can even look at me after this. If you can't- I'd never blame you, Hinata. I hurt you. I hate that I hurt you, it's-"
"You mean it? I'm your-"
"Yes," he swears, "yes. If you want to be."
Hinata draws a deep breath, forces the words which have been curling cold, tight around her heart since this started.
"You're not- you're not disgusted by me?" Kiba's reaction is immediate and vehement.
"No," he swears, pulling her tight against him. "No, Hinata. No, I could never be disgusted by you. Are you kidding? It's you, I-" Kiba cuts himself off before continuing, quieter, closer, words whispered into the skin of her neck. "I love you."
Hinata cries.
Kiba panics.
This time, when he moves, he slips out of her, drawing another wounded noise amidst the sobs and making himself panic even more. If Hinata weren't preoccupied feeling all she's already feeling, she'd laugh.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. That was the wrong thing to say-"
"It wasn't," she insists, words broken as she fights back further tears.
"Are you sure, this isn't- none of this is- I really hadn't planned for things to go like this. I'm sorry, Hinata," he pulls her in close, presses kisses to her shoulders, and she allows herself, for the first time in what can't have been more than an hour but feels like a lifetime, to feel safe.
He carries her to the stream and lets cool water lick across her wounds, soothing her bruised skin as he gently washes the dirt from her hair, her face, and tends to the torn skin of her hands and knees. Pressing soft, chaste kisses to her skin in the wake of his touch.
It's only a week before he meets with her family, bearing gifts and declaring his intent.
A/N: I don't know, man. I just don't even know. I have nothing to say for myself, here.
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