In which twenty-eight-year-old detective Kiba Inuzuka, crosses paths with a girl who turns his once orderly life into pure chaos. After finding out that she is his soulmate; it spells nothing but 𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐞.
Warnings: infidelity, mature language...
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KIBA felt a sense of dread crawl up his neck.
When he was met with a still sleepless Tamaki inside the dimly-lit kitchen that late night, Kiba couldn't move; couldn't think. And so, he just stood there - acting like a deer caught in the headlights of a speeding car.
After what he had done, he couldn't even stomach through enough remorse to look at her. The Inuzuka was too ashamed - too guilt-ridden to look Tamaki in the warm brown eyes, which always seemed to brighten at the sight of him.
The sudden awareness of his infidelity dropped down onto his shoulders with such enormous weight, that Kiba felt like Atlas himself; condemned to hold the burden of the heavens on his back for all eternity.
It always seemed to happen in the same pattern. He didn't think anything of his cheating whilst he was actually doing it - because it was too addicting, too good to not turn him blind just enough to be unable to see reason. And then, as soon as he'd finally lay his eyes on Tamaki and was away from y/n, it would come rushing in all at once; the sheer force of guilt causing him to feel sick to his stomach.
Kiba realised that the repulsion he felt for his girlfriend had grown even worse in the mere span of a few hours.
Now, the last eight years of his life seemed completely and utterly insignificant, compared to the evening he had just spent with his soulmate. Kiba felt like all those years had been wasted away - nearly a decade that he would never be able to get back; lousily spent on his girlfriend. The realization left him with a bitter taste in his mouth.
And still, despite all those culpable thoughts to linger inside his troubled mind - Kiba still let Tamaki wrap her arms around him tightly; still let her hands explore his body as she pulled him closer.
He allowed her to press her lips to his own, even though his mouth was already swollen and red from all the kisses he had placed onto his soulmate's sugary mouth and body. He even allowed her to claim him, even though he wasn't present enough to actually feel any of it.
Kiba fucked Tamaki in the kitchen that night - with the lights turned off. He made her bend over the counter for him, and cupped a rough hand across her mouth, just so that he wouldn't have to hear her moans.
And Kiba was ruthless. He was absolutely cruel; angry. Angry with Tamaki, because she kept acting like an intrusive bitch. Angry with himself, because he actually thought of her as one.
// Shut the fuck up. //
// Don't look at me. //
// Stop, stop, stop! //
The mindset he now had for his girlfriend; the person who he was supposed to love, not utterly despise scared, him.
Kiba didn't make love to Tamaki. He fucked her, raw and mercilessly, only because he had to. Because it was a necessity - an obligation. An obligation to not become the very same person his father was. An obligation to make her happy, just so that she would leave him alone.
He let her sink her nails into his skin, ignored her whimpers when he burrowed himself deep inside of her warmth, despite that the feeling of it made dread spider-walk all over the back of his neck for a second time that night.
His fingers tangled into her mousy brown hair, and yanked - harshly, to the point where the pain was making her eyes begin to sting. She let him cup his large hand over her cheek which felt hot to the touch, let his calloused fingers wrap tightly around the side of her neck; not knowing that he could have snapped it then and there.
The tears which spilled down her cheeks felt hot, and they spilled right onto the palm of his hand which he was still stubbornly clamping against her panting mouth. She squirmed and turned in his hold at the delicious pain he was giving her, but that didn't do shit against him. He was just so angry; so pissed off at the world.
Did he deserve this? Did she?
And so, after he was done - Kiba left Tamaki standing there in the middle of the kitchen. With her legs weak and her knees bucking from what he had just done to her. He didn't apologize, didn't even think of it to actually say sorry. The sight of her bothered him too much. Tamaki's scent now covered the vanilla one which had settled into his clothes so nicely, hours before; her lips masked the hint of sweetness y/nhad left on his mouth. Unforgivable.
He spent an eternity under the shower, letting the hot water burn his tan skin; washing away the repulsion that lingered and clung onto his heart with a set of dangerously sharp claws and teeth.
He felt absolutely filthy. Filthy because of Tamaki's hands to trace his naked skin, filthy because of her lips to rest upon his own.
Kiba could feel his upper lip begin to quiver. The lump inside his throat grew to such a size, that it was hard to breathe. And so, he finally let the tears fall and mix with the water to run over his face - never to be seen again.
He never cried, but he wanted to this time. He wept - silently, with his shoulders shaking, and his eyes burning until all the tears he had, had been used up. He inhaled shallow, shaky breaths which made his lungs burn just the same as his eyes did, sank his nails into his palm so harshly that it had started to bleed.
And despite all of that; Kiba still slipped underneath the covers with Tamaki that night. Held her so very close, pretending that everything was just fine and dandy, until she had fallen asleep with an easy heart and mind, and he could finally push himself away.
He spent half of the night on the balcony, smoking in silence, despite that his thoughts were loud. The rest of it, he spent tossing and turning in bed like a restless animal. After brooding through a hundred of different scenarios of what he should do; would do - sleep finally caught onto him in the early hours of the morning. The decision had been made.
If anything; he'd at least try to resist fate's choice - to try and love Tamaki in his own peculiar kind of way. As for his soulmate, he'd stick around, but offer nothing more than a touch of a hand. Only enough to stay sane.
