#come one come all ye monsterfuckers

[sweetiecutie]

Hi!

I fell in love with ur underbedmonster!simon au!

And I am sure everybody else fell in love with it.

Can we get some more stories with monster simon? If it's no problem, of course :)))

Love your work btw <33

A/n: sure you can, I think that this trope is my new obsession🫣☺️

Warnings: smut, mdni, possessiveness, monsterfucking, tentacle fucking

Part 1 || Part 3 || Part 4

Underbed monster! Simon who was slightly startled by such sudden change in your aura - once sugary sweet and syrupy turned into bitter and pungent, causing creature to sputter and hiss begrudgingly at the taste, his ears (or whatever that was that he had) straining to hear any words coming from you that could explain this drastic shift in your emotions.

Underbed monster! Simon who listened attentively as you spoke on the phone with your best friend, choking on your own tears and sobs as you told them how you broke up with your now ex boyfriend, about the ugly fight you had, how he called you numerous names, shattering your heart in million pieces just with his cruel words.

Underbed monster! Simon who felt rage simmering somewhere deep within him. How dare that pathetic scumbag treat you like that!? Yes, Ghost did torture you with horrible nightmares quite a few dozens times, but you were his human, his to scare, his to taunt, his to fuck, no one else’s. He felt possessive and angry, he wanted to soothe your poor little heart, to make all the pain go away so you could feed him more and more of that honey-like energy that your pleasure exuded.

Underbed monster! Simon who finally decided to take matters into his own hands after keeping a close eye on you when your state didn’t seem to get any better. Ghost sneaked out some of the sweets from kitchen to your bedroom so you had something to munch on, making you confused as to how those candies seemed to magically appear on your bedside. Simon tried keeping the house tidy and clean for you in hopes that it’ll make you get better soon, he even did your laundry once, causing you to freak out at the sight of your clothes, freshly washed and still damp, hanging off the rope to dry out.

Underbed monster! Simon couldn’t be more happier, watching your attention finally shift from your shithead ex to him. Simon was purposefully lurking right in the corner of your vision, making his presence in the house way more obvious. He watched with fierce amusement as you grabbed the sharpest knife from the kitchen, inspecting every nook and cranny of the house, not finding any signs of intrusion or anything that could’ve given a clue about another person’s presence, scrunching up your pretty eyebrows in confusion.

Underbed monster! Simon who fully revealed himself for the first time in your dream, standing in his full glory in front of small scared you, your breathing quickening in your sleep as you inspected his tall dark form, two red eyes glaring down at you from above. You felt paralysed as you watched this creature raise its smokey limb that slightly resembled human arm, cold tentacle fingers brushing your cheek, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear affectionately. And all of the sudden all fear and anxiety vanished, leaving place for curiosity and amazement as you studied monster’s features closer, not feeling threatened nor endangered by him. Slowly its mouth opened - even blacker that the rest of him, his voice clear and lucid, ringing right inside of your head “Wake up”

Your eyes snapped open - you were laying in your bed still, crumpled sheets dug into your back unpleasantly but you couldn’t care less as you stared straight into those crimson orbs, cold tentacles slithering up and down your sides, wrapping tighter around your limbs, immobilising you completely. Underbed monster! Simon just purred audibly at your obedience and lack of resistance, branching a few more extremities to slip under the hem of your pyjama top and wrap around your nipples, tugging and tweaking on them softly.

Underbed monster! Simon who growled satisfactorily at the small wet patch that started forming on your panties, slowly rubbing your sweet pussy while applying more and more pressure to his touch, watching you writhe and whine underneath him, begging for more.

Underbed monster! Simon who purred as he slipped a thick tentacle past the hem of your panties, stuffing your fluttering cunny so full of himself, finally that rich taste of your pleasure simmered right through him, filling his ghastly body with strength and energy he lacked all this time you were depressed. Newfound strength just nagged him into fucking you faster and harder, twisting out your nipples and rubbing your clit rapidly, all while forcing his thick tentacles in and out of your leaking cunt, making you scream and tremble in his inescapable grasp as fourth orgasm rippled through your weakened body, pure pleasure surging through your veins, hogging up your mind and making you incapable of thinking.

Underbed monster! Simon who only let you go when first sun rays peaked in through bedroom’s window, leaving you a fucked-out yet blissful mess, pinching you on your cheek affectionately before slipping under your mattress, curling up like a huge lazy cat and falling asleep, full of your delicious pleasure.

And even hours later as you peeked under your bed you could see a huge black spot there, still and unmoving; and if you listened closely enough you could hear your underbed monster purr softly in its sleep, happy and properly nourished.

That’s quite a pet that you have now, eh?

Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated, don’t be shy to give writers some love! Requests are open, so send me some stuff<3

[peachdues]

IN THE NETHERWOOD

PART I

KINKTOBER 2023 ♤ WEREWOLF!SANEMI X RED RIDING HOOD! READER

A/N: did I get carried away? Yes. Do I care? No.

Part I is plot + smut. Part II is minimal plot and a lot of smut. Like a concerning amount.

Forgive the pace/editing errors. This was supposed to be a one shot that turned into a two part fic lmao.

CW: violence/some description of gore • mating • knotting/discussions of knotting • biting/mating • feral/protective Sanemi • virgin!Reader who is a big time monsterfucker • oral sex (F!receiving) • Sanemi makes a mess of his breeches • implied murder/other violence by Douma, but left purposefully ambiguous • brief description of another human being eaten

This honestly could be a multi-part fic that continues after Part II, given how much I leave open — but I’ll let you all decide if you want that. For now, enjoy the ride, monster-fuckers. Happy Kinktober!

You’d known Douma’s band of acolytes had been pursuing you for at least a quarter of a mile through the dark wood, and you’d only grown more and more desperate as the excited titter of their voices drew nearer.

You were panicking; with every moment that passed, your legs grew heavier as the weariness of the last day and a half of your journey became a weight you could no longer ignore.

Find the huntsman of the Netherwood! Your grandmother had pled as she’d fastened the thick, scarlet cloak around your shoulders. He guides those in need to far-away villages. He will take you somewhere safe — where Douma cannot find you.

Grandmother did not dare let any of the tears sparkling in her eyes fall as she looped her hands behind you and pulled the hood of your cloak up over your head, concealing your hair from sight. Head north until you come to the river and then head west. You will find his cabin. Go!

Granny had all but pushed you out of her small cottage — the cottage you had come to regard as your home — and off into the chilly, autumn night.

You hadn’t questioned the urgency, though the realization that you would likely never again return to your grandmother — or even see her alive — hadn’t stung any less. But you knew, as well as the old woman who’d raised you after your parents disappeared in the Netherwood, that if Douma got his hands on you, you would never be seen or heard from again.

Just like his four other previous wives.

The last woman he’d taken as his bride had been a dear friend of yours — Kotoha — and she’s arguably lasted the longest, though perhaps that was because she’d been pregnant when the frost lotus containing his marriage demand arrived at her parents’ hut.

The eclectic village worship leader hadn’t apparently minded that Kotoha had been pregnant with another man’s child — she was unmarried, young, and beautiful; it was all Douma required.

The tension among the village women had dissipated once Kotoha had survived the first week of her union with the rainbow-eyed monster. After all, the other three wives had barely lived to see the next morning, never mind seven.

Kotoha had lived several more months — even giving birth to a beautiful, healthy baby boy whom she’d doted over, and even you thought that perhaps the rumors swirling through the village had been wrong. Perhaps those other three women truly had run off into the night with various lovers, leaving Douma alone in his mansion in the eastern wing of the village.

The last you’d seen her, your friend had been smiling and bright, happily making her way back to her marital home, baby Inosuke happily snuggled against her chest, as she’d cheerfully waved you goodbye.

Kotoha was never heard from again. Though the village elders had dispatched a recovery team to search for her, no trace of either her, nor the precious baby boy whom she’d loved so dearly, could be found.

A week later, your grandmother opened the front door of her homely cottage to find a single frost lotus resting on her doorstep.

No one turned down Douma’s marriage proposals; but neither did anyone survive them.

And so, your grandmother had packed a small satchel with what meager provisions she could scrounge, wrapped you in her heirloomed scarlet cloak, and pushed you out the door, begging you to find the mysterious huntsman of the Netherwood so that you would not become the village’s newest ghost.

Douma had surely slaughtered your beloved grandmother by now, having learned of her insolence.

You clamped down on the mournful sob building in your throat, knowing if you allowed yourself to give into your grief, it would only slow you down even further, and make it more likely that her sacrifice for your life would be in vain.

Though, in fairness, it might all be for naught anyways; the Netherwood was not a humble forest with only the occasional gray wolf or hungry bear to fear.

For centuries, your village had stood on the outskirts of the dark, ancient wood which divided it from the nervous system of villages and bustling little towns that made up the region. That isolation meant your village had become largely self-sustaining, though a few brave souls managed to make a yearly sojourn across the Wood to trade with establishments on the other side. The forest stretched for miles, encompassing small mountains and rocking ravines that were difficult enough to navigate on their own, especially in disagreeable weather.

But rugged and often temperamental terrain was child’s play compared to the horrors which lurked within the shadows of the Wood.

To start, as you’d come to realize over the last day and a half of your trek, the Netherwood was nothing but shadow. Though you’d surely traveled through the night and well into the following day, not a trace of daylight had pierced the thick canopy of leaves and twisted vines which loomed overhead. Your only indicator that day had, in fact, arrived, had been your sighting of a few songbirds quietly fluttering from tree to tree, as their songs swallowed by the deafening silence of the forest.

But the eerie quiet of the Wood was nothing compared to what you knew prowled within its depths.

You’d grown up hearing tales of the various beasts and cryptids that made the Netherwood their home – and made any unsuspecting traveler their meal. Your own parents had embarked on a dangerous trek into the Netherwood, seeking out a village on the other side rumored to have much-needed medication for your ailing grandfather, only to never be seen or heard from again. Your grandfather had succumbed to his illness not long after, though you’d often wondered whether his guilt and heartbreak hadn’t hastened his demise.

And so the Netherwood had taken your parents and your grandfather, leaving you with only your cherished grandmother as your family. Over the years, those who dared venture into the Wood often did not return, the dark of the forest swallowing them whole and leaving no trace of them behind.

Now, it was through this very Wood that you found yourself running, clinging to the desperate hope that perhaps you’d find this mysterious Huntsman and be saved, though the sluggishness that had entered your exhausted limbs seemed to suggest that you were more likely to be caught by your pursuers. And that was assuming you didn’t end up as something dinner’s before then.

You continued to stumble through the trees, ducking under various branches and batting away stringy spiderwebs, trying not to allow your frustration to get the better of you. After a while, the voices tracking you grew more and more silent, before the walls of the forest swallowed them completely, leaving you utterly alone. 

As you shoved brush and thorns out of your way, the forest opened to give way to a small river, though it was barely more than a creek. It bubbled merrily, as though completely unaware of the horrors lurking behind the shadows of the ancient grove of trees. 

Several lengths ahead, you spotted something crouched beside the water. Your first instinct was panic, thinking you’d stumbled across one of the nefarious creatures of the Wood, a meal being offered to it on a silver platter, but as your vision adjusted, you realized it was only a man, splashing his face with the creek’s cool reserve.

“A-are you the Huntsman?” You hated how timid your voice was, but truthfully, you’d been running for what felt like an eternity, and each snap of a twig in the Woods around had you on edge. You deserved to be frightened, dammit. 

The man snorted before rising to his feet. “I am a Huntsman; whether I am the one you seek, I cannot say.”

 He was taller than you and well-built. His tunic boasted a deep v at the chest exposing a vast swath of the man’s sculpted chest, the skin as scarred as his broad forearms. His breeches were by no means skintight, but it was clear his legs were also made from the same, sinewy muscle that covered the rest of him.

Idly, you wondered whether he was as scarred beneath his clothing as he was out of it. 

He was handsome, there was no doubt, but his appearance was striking. He had a mop of silvery-white hair, parted slightly to cover the criss-cross of scars etched into the right side of his forehead. Below a pair of startling lilac eyes, you could just make out another jagged scar that extended from his right ear to the bridge of his nose. 

He turned back to you, mouth pulled down in an annoyed grimace. “What is your business in the Wood, girl?” 

His eyes roamed the crimson cloak draped around your shoulders, and you swore for a moment there was something akin to amusement glinting in his eyes, despite the severe set of his mouth. 

You shuddered at the sharp intensity of his lilac gaze. “I seek a guide through the Wood — I need to get to one of the villages on the other side.”

Something in the forest snapped and you flinched, though it did not bother the Huntsman, who only narrowed his eyes at you. 

“Are you being pursued?” 

You nodded, your fingers tightening around the folds of your cloak and wrapping it tighter around your shivering frame. “I do not know how many, but they have dogs.”

The Huntsman nodded, stroking his chin in contemplation. “I can get you to the other side in two days; three at most, should your followers pose a problem.” 

You were floored at how easily he accepted your request, even with the additional threat of being hunted like animals by Douma’s men, but you were grateful all the same. 

“I have payment,” you started, hands shooting to dig through the small pouch fastened around your waist, but the wild Huntsman only shook his head. 

“I do not take payment. I will escort you and then I won’t have to worry about any creatures of the Wood sniffing out your bones and getting too close.”

Charming, you groused in your head, though the implication nestled in his words sent another shudder down your spine. 

“What is your name, girl?” The Huntsman’s voice pulled you back to him and the forest, his face expectant. 

You gave him your name and felt a warmth spread through you as he repeated it, mouth mulling over each syllable like it was wrapped with velvet.

“You can call me Sanemi,” the Huntsman said, reaching for the hand-axe lying on its side by the riverbank. “Follow me.” 

---

The Hunstman led you through a winding path that would have been untraceable had you not been watching the way Sanemi’s eyes marked certain landmarks — an errant tree branch here, a particular thorn bush there. 

“Since you are being tracked, we need to move right away,” Sanemi had explained as you stumbled after him, your feet snaring over the various bumps and snarls of tree roots that jutted out from the forest floor. “But I need to gather a few things from my cabin. It’s just a little ways off, and then we will leave.”

Sanemi had largely ignored you for the rest of the trek, though he’d only cut his eyes back to you to ask a single question. 

“Where did you get that cloak?”

You fingered the heavy edge of the ruby wool that your grandmother had fastened snug around your shoulders, its thick folds providing you protection against the biting chill of the autumn wind. “It is an heirloom. My grandmother said it would keep me safe.” 

The Huntsman hummed quietly to himself. “That is one word for it, I suppose.” 

“How do you mean?” 

Sanemi slowed his pace so that you could catch up and walk beside him as he spoke. 

“That cloak is enchanted. Have you not noticed the strange stitching along the hood?” 

Your hands flew to grip the edge of the hood drawn over your head. Sure enough, beneath the pads of your fingertips, you could feel the odd swirls of thread forming some indiscernible shapes along the outermost portion of the cape’s top. 

“I’d not; this was not my cloak to begin with. It was my Grandmother’s.” You did not know why the Huntsman’s tone made you feel self-conscious, as though you’d been too stupid to notice such an obvious variation in the cape snugly fastened around you. It wasn’t as though you’d been afforded a great deal to time to look over it, in those hurried moments before Grandmother had shoved you through her front door and into the Wood beyond. 

Sanemi only shrugged as he continued on ahead, putting distance between you once more, but he called back one final time. “Red is a symbol for many things, girl. I hope your Grandmother at least warned you of that.”

----

Sanemi's cabin was small, but homely. You'd been waiting uneasily near the unlit fireplace at the center of the single-room cabin, unsure whether it would be considered ill-mannered for you to drape yourself across one of the overstuffed armchairs pointed towards the hearth, as the Huntsman milled about, gathering various supplies.

"Have you any preference for which village I take you to?" He called as he rifled through a sparsely-stocked cabinet, scooping up dried provisions into a small leather pouch.

You shook your head. "No, I wish only to get as far away from the Wood as possible."

Sanemi nodded, stalking past you to open another cupboard. Glinting against the dimming light outside, you saw the curved blade of an axe, sharp and polished.

"I can make do with that," the Huntsman said simply. "Though should we run into any weather, it may take longer than three days to reach the other side of the Wood."

You picked nervously at your nails. Any response you could have given him was cut off by the faint cacophany of voices somewhere in the distance.

Brow furrowed, Sanemi crossed the floor of his cabin to a small window and squinted through the fogged glass. Over his shoulder, you could spy the faint glow of fire making its way towards the cabin.

Torches.

You did not need to guess whose torches they were; there was only one reason for a band of men to be in the Netherwood at this hour.

"It's them," you whispered in horror, your heart sinking to your stomach. "The man who is after me -- they're his -- followers. I hesitate to call them men."

Sanemi's eyes narrowed as he glanced back out the window, and you swore you saw his nostrils flare, as though scenting the air.

He gripped you by your forearm, tugging you further into his cabin. “We don’t have much time until they come knocking. I think I can hold them off — but you have to trust me.” 

You looked over the wild man, from the thick, silvery scars seared into the rippled muscles of his forearms to the thinner, more delicate scars which crossed half his face, swallowing down any fear you’d had of the huntsman upon first stumbling upon him by the river. 

You’d been scared of him, but you feared the fate awaiting you at the hands of Douma and his cronies far more; and so, you were desperate enough to place your life in Sanemi’s rough, calloused hands. 

“I trust you,” you vowed, though your voice trembled slightly. “Please just don’t let them take me.”

Something in Sanemi’s eyes tightened as he looked over you, but he nodded, hands reaching for the small pouch strapped to his upper thigh. 

“I’m sure you’re going to protest what I’m about to do,” he said quickly, producing a small hunting knife from the pocket. “But I need you to believe me when I say this is the only way.” 

“Take off your cloak.” Sanemi ordered, standing tall before you, hand out in waiting. 

Your hands flew hesitantly to the metal clasp resting just below the hollow of your throat. “But my grandmother said —“ 

“I know what your grandmother said, girl, but I’m telling you, that cloak will do you no good indoors. It is only effective out in the Wood.” 

You could tell the huntsman’s patience was wearing thin, but still, you hesitated. 

Sanemi huffed impatiently. “I swear to you I will return it the moment they leave, but you must remove it now. They will use it to track your scent.” 

You shuddered as your fingers quickly freed the small latch, and the crimson wool draped around your shoulders loosened. With some hesitancy, you held your cloak out to the huntsman, who balled the fabric up tight before crossing the floor of his cabin, shoving it into a small armoire and behind several hung pelts and well-worn leathers. 

Sanemi was before you once more before you could blink. “Turn around,” he ordered, twirling the knife in his hand to motion you to spin and put your back to him. 

You complied without protest, hands twiddling nervously before you, until you heard the unmistakeable sound of fabric tearing at your back. 

The corset worn over the cotton layers of your dress loosened and fell to the cabin floor, it’s ribboned ties neatly severed where they’d been laced at your back. 

“What in the devil —,” you began hotly, arms jumping to cross over your unsupported chest as you twisted to glare at the huntsman. 

A warm hand firmly pushed your shoulder, keeping you facing forward. “Hold still, woman,” Sanemi barked, and the heat at your back disappeared for a moment as you felt him kneel behind you. 

To your horror, you felt the outermost layer of your dress lift up and away from you as Sanemi rose, bringing the garment up over your head. 

“I asked you to help me, you dog!” You squealed, your attempts to squirm away from the mannerless huntsman at your back futile. “Not strip me bare to do with as you please!” 

Behind you, Sanemi gave a great snort. “Helpin’ you is exactly what I’m doing, if you’d shut up for one second.” 

Left in nothing but your thin, cotton shift, you silently wondered whether you should’ve taken your chances and continued your trek through the Wood. Surely, being eaten by one of the Netherwood’s more nefarious creatures of horror was preferable to being stripped nude by a half-wild brute in his isolated cabin. 

Your musings were cut short, however, as a firm hand wrapped around your forearm and tugged you towards the back of the cabin, where a small doorway closed off the hut’s only other room. 

Sanemi kicked the door open revealing a surprisingly large bed, draped in blankets made of the furs of several different animals. 

“N-no —mmph!” Your protest was cut off by Sanemi’s free hand as it clamped over your mouth as he hissed at you to shush. 

Over the sound of your thudding heart and hard breath as you planted against the huntsman’s palm, you heard the faint but unmistakable sound of male laughter and jeers, cruel and cold. 

“They will be here any moment,” Sanemi said lowly, and he removed the hand from your mouth in favor of shoving you none too gently into the small bedroom. Before you could speak, the huntsman gripped you around the waist and tossed you effortlessly onto the bed, your body bouncing slightly against the soft plush. 

“Get under the covers and lay face-down in the pillows. Let your hair cover you.” 

Scrambling up against the headboard, you looked back to your savior or your villain — you’d not yet decided under which category he fell — but saw that he was already standing back in the doorway, jaw tense and his eyes trained on the front door of his cabin. 

He glanced back to you only once. “And move that thing off to your shoulders. Make yourself appear as though you’re indecent.” 

With that, the huntsman quickly shut the door to his bedroom, just as a fist pounded against the wood of the door outside. 

You kicked your way under the many pelts adorning the bed, savoring their warmth against your chilled skin. Remembering Sanemi’s final warning, you tugged the sleeves of your shift off your shoulders, concealing it and the rest of your body below the soft fur blankets. 

The front door of the cabin opened, and you buried your face into one of the pillows resting against the headboard, begging the comforting scent of forest pine and cedar to calm your raging pulse. 

“How can I help you gentlemen this evening?” Sanemi called, and you almost laughed at how cordial he sounded, as though he hadn’t just cut your dress from you like a brute. 

Any smile you had was immediately wiped from your face at the cold, steely voice which answered him. “We’re searching for a woman. She belongs to someone who is eager to get her back.” 

You balled the pelts below you in your fists, teeth grinding. Of course, you’d never actually agreed to marrying Douma, and yet the beast felt entitled to claim ownership over you, as though you were no better than a piece of furniture. 

Though, you supposed that wasn’t quite an accurate comparison. Furniture survived Douma; women did not. 

“Is that so?” Sanemi’s hardened tone sent shivers down your spine, and you wondered whether his face matched the stony, scathing cadence of his voice. “Well unfortunately for you boys, it’s just me and the wife here. And you’ve interrupted us.” 

“Our apologies,” the scout said, though it did not sound as though he was sorry at all. “But you won’t mind us taking a peak? Just t make sure you and your wife don’t have a visitor.” 

Sanemi’s answering snarl was soft, but it did not conceal the deadly threat contained within. “Surely you understand why I cannot let a number of strange men into my home, while my wife is indisposed.” 

You had to give him credit; Sanemi sounded every bit the dominating, over-protective husband he was pretending to be. 

There was a beat before Sanemi sighed, his irritation almost convincing. “Make it quick. And do not enter the bedroom.” 

There was a shuffle of feet, heavy and booted, that crossed the threshold of the cabin, and the hair on your skin rose at the charge of violence which filled the air. Breath caught in your throat, you buried your face deeper into the huntsman’s mattress and prayed his ruse would be successful. 

The door to the bedroom banged open, startling you with a squeal as you ruched deeper below the pelts. 

“I told you to stay out of the bedroom,” Sanemi’s voice almost sounded bored, but it was thankfully close. Your eyes slid closed as you willed your heart to slow its drumbeat against your sternum as the resulting silence hung thick in the air. 

“Our apologies,” the apparent leader of Douma’s band of henchmen bit out, his tone acerbic, and his frustration evident. The bedroom door slammed shut once more, and the heavy footsteps quickly made their way back through the cabin and out the front door. 

All remained silent in the huntsman’s cabin for several, long moments, and you did not dare to rise from the bed that had become your sanctuary. 

After what felt like an eternity, the door to Sanemi’s sleeping chamber pushed open, the light from the main room of the cabin flooding in. 

“They are gone,” the huntsman said simply. “It is safe for you to come back out.” 

You turned over and rose from his bed, quickly tugging the sleeves of your thin shift back up over your bare shoulders, if not to preserve the last shred of your modesty that the huntsman before you hadn’t cut away. 

You were startled by his appearance in the doorway. Though his eyes remained fixed on the wood floor of the cabin, you saw that the man before you was nearly as stripped as you were. 

Somehow, in the few precious seconds between him throwing you onto his bed and Douma’s men barging through the cabin door, Sanemi had discarded his lined shirt, leaving everything from the waist-up bare. The only garment which remained on him were his deerskin breeches, and Sanemi had somehow undone its front laces, loosening their fit around his hips. Between the undone cords, you spied a thin trail of silver hair that begun just below his navel and disappeared below the seam of his pants.

It was admirable the dedication Sanemi had shown in perfecting your ruse. To the untrained eye, it truly looked as though Douma’s men had indeed interrupted a husband and his wife as they’d been engaged in acts you’d been told were reserved for the marital bed, the disheveled state of Sanemi’s breeches giving the distinct appearance of having been just barely tugged over naked hips. 

The thought made your mouth run dry, and something hot flared in your belly.

Sanemi ignored your apparent ogling of him, as he produced his discarded tunic from the floor where he'd tossed it and shrugged it back over his head.

Wordlessly, he gathered the shredded remains of your corset and handed it to you, keeping his gaze averted to allow you to redress. You managed to pull on your outer skirts back over your shirt, but you fingered the torn strap of your corset.

“You ruined it,” you said, nose wrinkling as you punched it between your thumb and index finger. “I cannot lace it when you’ve torn the stays.”

Sanemi frowned, and if you hadn’t known better, you would have thought he looked slightly apologetic for the state of your outer-corset.

“Corset woes aside, we need to go now, if we are to have any chance of getting you to another village before your fiancé’s men catch up to us.” Sanemi grabbed the leather satchel he'd been packing before Douma's men had interrupted and began filling it once more. 

You scowled. “He is not my fiancé,” 

“Your keeper, then.” Sanemi amended. The Huntsman stalked back over to the armoire in his sitting room and wrenched the worn doors open, pulling out several pieces of cloth.

“Here,” he said gruffly, tossing you a balled wad of crimson wool. “As promised.” 

You accepted the cloak with a small, uttered thanks, and fastened it quickly around your shoulders. The Huntsman then turned to dig through a small cabinet, returning before you with a small spool of sturdy, leather cord.

He held it out to you. “For your corset,” he said gruffly, his cheeks slightly pink. Feeling your own blush creep up your neck, you accepted the offering. Picking the torn garment up once more, you slid it over your shoulders and used Sanemi’s cords to lace the front together.

Truthfully, the finished product wasn’t half bad; the cord was long enough to cross all the way up to the top of the corset, with enough leftover to allow you to pull it and secure it in place around your bust. You tied off the cord with a pleased nod, before looking back to Sanemi in gratitude. Before you could properly thank him, the Huntsman thrust a small basket into your newly freed hand.

"Provisions. For the journey." He said by way of explanation, and you nodded, nestling the handle into the crook of your arm.

Without so much as a glance around the cabin, Sanemi wrenched the door open and allowed you to pass through the entryway first, pausing behind you only to tightly latch the door shut.

And the two of you set off into the Netherwood.

———

You were no time-keeper by any means, especially in a place like the Wood where daylight was hard enough to find; but it felt like hours had passed since you last spoke to the Huntsman, and the silence was pressing heavily upon you — especially the deeper you ventured into the dark of the Wood.

Though Sanemi had been walking ahead of you, you took it upon yourself to increase your pace, until you walked astride with him.

“How long have you been guiding others through the Netherwood?” You asked lightly, hoping that some — any — conversation you could have with the stoic woodsman would distract you from the odd growls and noises concealed within the forest’s shadows.

“A while.” Sanemi’s answer was as brisk as his pace, and you struggled to match it. 

“Have you lived here your whole life, or are you from one of the villages nearby?” You pressed, scanning your memory as you tried to recall whether there had ever been a boy with white hair and a scarred face in your village. 

“No.” 

You waited for him to elaborate, but Sanemi offered no further explanation. You sighed and fell back behind him; if this was to be his attitude the entire journey, you were in for a long few days. 

The pair of you had traveled for what felt like several more hours without a word before the silence began to irritate you. You sped up your pace until your stride matched the Huntsman’s, walking with him side by side. 

“Why do you live alone in the Netherwood?” You twirled the basket around your hand as the pair of you walked, the nerves you’d felt upon first starting the journey through the Wood having long since abated, in no short part due to the presence of the Huntsman and his axe by your side. 

Sanemi did not turn towards you, his eyes remaining fixed on the bramble ahead. “Why did you venture into the Wood alone?” 

You groaned. “Is this how our entire journey is to go? Either you give me mono-syllable answers, or every time I ask a question, you avoid answering by responding with your own?” 

“That depends, do you intend to keep asking me questions?”

You barely resisted the urge to whack the sullen Huntsman with your basket. “Unbelievable,” you grumbled. “Your time here in the Wood has turned you into a curmudgeonly hermit.” 

Sanemi snorted. “You assume I wasn’t  one to begin with.” 

“I can’t imagine someone who helps travelers cross the Wood was always so  churlish and miserable.” You shot back. 

The Huntsman remained quiet for a moment, though his air did not carry the same cold standoffishness that you’d come to understand meant he was ignoring you. Rather, Sanemi seemed to be in thought. 

“It has been nearly four years,” he said after a long while. “Since I began helping travelers cross the Wood.” 

Your eyes widened. “Four years?” That was an awfully long time to risk one’s neck for the sake of strangers — some of whom, you realized, may not have been all that good. 

Sanemi nodded and you whistled. “I’m sure you’ve seen many kinds of people attempting to traverse through the Wood.”

“There are only two types of travelers,” Sanemi disagreed. “Those who live to make it to my door, and those who do not. I try not to pry into the privacies of those who do manage to find me.” He cut his eyes at you, accusingly. “And usually, they aren’t so eager to pry into mine.”

You ignored the jab, though it bruised your ego more than you wanted to admit. “You don’t like people, yet you’ve crafted your entire existence around serving them.” You could not stop the amused edge in your words. “It is quite ironic, you have to admit.”

Sanemi refused to dignify you with a response, and so the first leg of your journey continued in relative silence.

The stifling quiet that extended between the Huntsman and you finally subsided once Sanemi announced you’d be stopping for the night and making camp. He’d been quick to notice your unease as you’d cast your eyes nervously around the shadowed trees of the Wood, assuring you that you all were in an area less-frequented by the various terrors that called the forest home.

“I will sit and keep watch,” Sanemi said as you’d curled up against the leaves of the forest floor, your red cloak pulled tight around your frame to block out the autumn night’s chill. “So try and sleep.”

“You are asking me to put a great deal of trust in you, Huntsman,” you said softly, but in truth, you did not feel nearly as afraid of him as you perhaps had earlier in the day.

He snorted, dismissively. “I’ve had you in my bed already, have I not? If I was going to harm you, girl, I would’ve already done so.”

Something tightened in his eyes as he dropped your gaze. “And I would never do such a thing to a woman.”

There was a quiet pain in his vow, such that you did not think his words were entirely meant for your ears. But they comforted you nonetheless, and so, still facing the handsome and mysterious Huntsman, you allowed yourself to relax enough to drift off into a dreamless sleep.

---

The journey was taking longer than Sanemi originally believed.

Three days into your travels with the Huntsman, and you’d barely reached the halfway point in the Wood. Though, that was not due to any fault of Sanemi’s; there’d been a few times when he’d stopped mid-stride, eyes narrowed on some unseen thing deep within the forest that you could not see, but concerned him enough to change course. When you asked, the Huntsman had only grumbled that he’d heard suspicious movement ahead, and that he knew whatever it was, it likely wasn’t human.

You didn’t bother to question his judgment. After all, it was Sanemi who was the expert in traversing through the Wood. You, however, had spent the better part of three days understanding how utterly helpless you were without him.

You hadn’t meant to stumble across it. 

You’d only meant to go relieve yourself behind a tree — a simple evergreen, that had looked innocent and unassuming enough. 

As you’d quickly learned, however, upon squatting near the tree’s base, it was anything but innocent. For no sooner had you moved to pull your skirts out of the way had you felt a spiny hand close around your forearm, its knife-sharp fingers digging into your flesh.

The withered, bony had was connected to a sinewy arm, covered in ridged, black skin that made up the panting, salivating bat-like creature that had managed to camouflage itself against the bark of the tree.

You’d taken one look at the rows of sharp, yellow teeth and screamed loud enough to startle the dead.

Loud enough to bring a certain Huntsman crashing through the brush, axe clutched tightly in hand, his eyes wild and bright.

“Duck,” he’d barked once, and somehow you’d managed to wrench yourself to the side of the devil as Sanemi’s weapon buried deep into the creature’s face, the beast releasing your arm and stumbling back with a pitiful gurgle before it dropped to the floor.

You’d hardly had the chance to collect yourself before the Huntsman was stomping over to you, yanking you up by your bicep and dragging you away from the nefarious little tree.

“A goddamned hidebehind,” he furiously spat. “Of all things to provoke, you choose a fucking hidebehind.”

Sanemi ignored your slight protests at being manhandled back to the path he’d identified as leading out of the Wood, too lost in his own raging assessment of you.

“How the devil a pretty little thing like you managed to make it to my door in one piece is the only thing that makes me consider there may be a higher power, given how foolishly reckless you act in the Woods where there’s no shortage of creatures that would want to devour you —“ 

The Huntsman continued his rant, but your ears only picked up on a single fragment of his ramblings.

“You think me pretty?” It was silly, yet the notion that the devilishly handsome Huntsman accompanying you found you worth looking at made something in your stomach flutter. 

Sanemi shot you a withering glare. “You may think me a miserable recluse, girl, but even I have eyes.”

You didn’t know why, but the comment made you smile for the rest of the night, a curious warmth blooming in your chest.

----

You settled for the night among a small circle of trees. Sanemi had helped you shake down a bed of pine needles from a nearby tree, allowing the fragrant nettles to form a soft bed for you against the forest floor.

You watched him repeat the process to make his own bed, your eyes curious. "You seem to have a great deal of experience with this," you mused.

Sanemi produced a single apple from his pouch and sliced it in half with a small hunting knife he kept strapped to his hip. He tossed you one half before he stretched out on his pine needle bed, propping up one cheek on his fist as he faced you. "I s'ppose sleeping outdoors is something of a family trait."

That piqued your curiosity. Though Sanemi had not divulged any details of his personal life with you, you'd assumed he'd been a true loner in his cabin in the Wood.

“You speak as though you still have family,” You bit into your half of the fruit, chewing slowly as you thought. “Do you?” 

Sanemi nodded. “No parents to speak of, but a younger brother — a few years younger than you. Still a boy, though in a man’s body.” He scowled. “The little brat has outgrown me.” 

You smiled at the obvious fondness belying the irritation on his face. “A boy bigger than you? I find that hard to believe.”

Your gentle praise had the intended effect of making the Huntsman look slightly smug, before the same sour look passed his face. “He has grown slightly taller than I, and by all accounts is still growing. I have a feeling he will try and hold it over my head the next time I see him.”

You wondered if Sanemi’s younger brother would literally do so, and the thought made you smile. 

“You said the next time you see him, but you’ve said you have no parents — where does he live, if not with you?” 

Sanemi grimaced, chucking the last of his apple core behind his shoulders. He remained quiet for a long moment before answering. 

“He lives with a friend; he can take better care of him than I can right now.” 

Something about the Huntsman’s tone made it clear the topic was a sensitive subject for the young Huntsman, and so you elected not to press the matter further.

“And what of you?” Sanemi said gruffly, surprising you with his willingness to engage in conversation as the two of you continued your trek. “I know you said you had a Grandmother, as she was the one to give you that.”

He nodded pointedly at your cloak, and you saw that curious heat enter his eyes once more at they combed over the scarlet wool draped around your frame. But the mention of your grandmother caused a lump to form in your throat that took you several moments to work around, the damning prickle of tears stinging your eyes. 

“I do,” you said hoarsely after a moment. “Though I do not know if she survived after helping me escape Douma. Even if she did, I know I shall never see her again.”

Though your vision had become blurred by your tears, you could have sworn you saw Sanemi’s hand twitched towards you at the sound of the wobble in your voice. 

“Douma,” he repeated. “Is that the person you’re fleeing from?” 

You nodded, exhaling a shaky sigh. “He claims to be my fiancé but I accepted no such proposal.” 

Sanemi leaned against the wood of a tree opposite from you, arms folding across his chest. “Then he does not know what it means to be a fiancé,”

You gave a watery chuckle. “No, I suppose he does not.” You chewed on your lip for a moment. “But Douma does not ask; he demands and he expects. His offer was not really a request for my hand — it was a warning that he would collect me to do with as he pleased.”

Sanemi tensed. “What do you mean by that?” 

You combed your fingers through the tangled tresses of your hair, and anxious habit you’d had for as long as you could remember. “In the last three years, Douma has taken four young women from the village to be his wife; every one of them has since disappeared.” 

The Huntsman sucked in a shocked breath. “What has happened to them? Has anyone searched?” 

You smiled ruefully. “I do not know; no one does. Search parties were dispensed each time, but those who looked came back empty-handed.” Your eyes remained fixed on the small, flickering flame of the campfire. “He claimed the first three ran away into the Wood; said they’d left him to be with a lover.” 

You wrapped your arms tighter around yourself, seeking comfort in your grandmother’s cloak. “Quite the coincidence, is it not?” 

“Quite nefarious,” Sanemi remarked darkly, shaking his head. “And what of the fourth wife?” 

Your head dropped. “My dear friend, Kotoha,” you felt the tears begin to gather in your eyes once more. “She was pregnant when Douma demanded her hand, but he did not appear to care. She gave birth a few months later — a beautiful baby boy named Inosuke.” 

“She seemed happy for a while after that, and I thought perhaps Douma had been telling the truth; by all accounts, he was kind towards her,” you continued, fighting the shiver trying to lick its way up your spine. “But then Kotoha disappeared, and Inosuke, too.” 

Sanemi stiffened at that. “When was this?” He asked suddenly, his tone urgent.

You looked up at him, startled. “Just a week before I found you.” 

Sanemi swore lowly, his hand dragging over his face. At your questioning look, he continued.

“A few days before we met, I was leaving to check on a series of caves that I frequent in the east,” he began. “I was half a kilometer from your village when I —,” he hesitated. “Spotted a few men, dragging something through the trees. They seemed to come from your village.” 

Your heart dropped to your stomach. “Did you see —?” Your question choked off as your voice cracked. 

Sanemi shook his head. “All that was left was a pile of bones. Just one person’s. But there were shreds of cloths mixed in,” Sanemi’s mouth twisted down in a snarl. “Clothes belonging to a young child. But no sign of their bones among the adult’s.” 

A cold, clammy sweat broke out across your forehead. “But Kotoha was hardly missing a week — surely that’s not enough time for her to be reduced to bones?” 

Sanemi opened his mouth but closed it before he spoke, his eyebrows knitting together as he struggled for words. 

“I have seen things in the Wood that are  capable of stripping flesh in a matter of minutes,” he said carefully, eyes trained on your face. “It would not be unheard of.” 

You felt the blood drain from your face as nausea wracked through you. “Oh gods,” you moaned, arms shakily coming to rest upon your knees to brace your head as it fell into your hands. “Oh gods — Kotoha.” 

You remained like that for several moments, viciously fighting against the roiling of your stomach, desperate to keep down what meager rations you’d managed to eat. 

Sanemi called your name, soft and gentle. You waited a moment, focusing on taking several, steadying breaths before you lifted your head to meet his gaze.

“So that is to be my fate once he catches me,” you whispered in horror. “To be reduced to nothing more than a pile of bones and tossed into the Wood like garbage.” You shuddered as another wave of nauseous dread sluiced through you. “And I cannot even fathom what will be done to me before then.” 

“It will not,” Sanemi’s answering snarl was soft but vicious, and it broke through the cold terror threatening to knock you off your axis. “I will get you out of this forest and you will be free. Mark my words.” 

“Do not make promises you cannot keep, Sanemi.” You warned, your eyes still wide, haunted. “If he catches me, he will do worse to you; death will be a kindness he will withhold.”

Despite the solemnity of your words, Sanemi only scoffed. “I assure you, he would do no such thing.” He looked to you, eyes serious. “And I would kill him before he had the chance to so much as look your direction.”

You wanted to dismiss his words as nothing more than the bragging of an overconfident, idiotic man. But something in both Sanemi’s tone and the way he was leaning against the tree — one foot resting causally against the bark, the other stretched out before him, supporting his weight, with his arms folded across his chest — made you think perhaps Sanemi’s confidence was more than mere bravado. 

Even though you knew you shouldn't, you took comfort in it; in him.

"You're a good man, Sanemi," you said quietly. "Better than most."

Sanemi scoffed, shaking his head, but the shadow over his face betrayed his own internal turmoil. "I am not half the man you'd like me to be."

You quirked an eyebrow at him, head tilting in question. “Do you care what I think of you?” When the Huntsman did not answer, you pressed. “You worry that I think ill of you — why?”

Sanemi, at best, was confusing. Maddening. He spoke to you gruffly, as though his years in the Wood had made him forget all semblance of decorum and basic human decency.

Yet, there was something else, too; though you hadn’t much experience being desired by men, Sanemi had shown you a particular level of care. He always handed you your dried rations first, ensuring you’d eat your fill before he; he always offered a hand to help you over a particularly tricky stretch of terrain, carrying your basket for you without so much as you having to ask. 

Then, there’d been the way he’d cradled you close earlier in the day, when you stumbled upon the poor man whose body had been mangled and half-eaten by one of the Wood’s inhabitants. He hadn’t needed to tuck your head against his chest like he did, holding you tight as he spun the two of you out of range, to avoid joining the lost soul whose entrails were strewn across the forest floor; he hadn’t needed to comfort you and wipe your frightened tears.

But he had. 

The realization hit you like a boulder. “You feel protective of me,” you murmured in awe, your eyes locked onto him even as he shifted under the weight of your stare. 

Sanemi tried to scowl, but it came off as more a wince. “I feel protective towards any woman who is being treated as something to abuse. What your fake-fiancé has done is abhorrent.”

His voice quieted. “You do not deserve that fate. You deserve to find something good — something that will make you happy.”

You hummed, pretending you were in thought as you began to slowly close the distance between you. “I would like to be happy,” you conceded. 

“You should be,” Sanemi answered. 

“I have felt happy here in the Wood,” you continued. “Have you, Huntsman? Felt happy here in the Netherwood, I mean?”

Sanemi swallowed hard. “Perhaps.” 

You took another step. “Recently?”

“Recent enough,” Sanemi watched you warily, his voice like gravel. 

You clicked your tongue. “Have you enjoyed our time together? However brief?” 

At this, Sanemi rolled his eyes. “You have certainly kept things interesting, when you’re not desperately trying to become a meal for some hungry beast.” 

When you did not answer, Sanemi looked nervously back to you, and his voice softened. “Yes. I have enjoyed it.”

You felt like you were stripping him back, peeling back layers of sarcasm and steel that he’d carefully erected to keep himself from getting close — from caring.

But you were doing it; and he was letting you.

“And you think I’m pretty,” you added, taking another step towards him.

“Aye,” Sanemi croaked, his eyes fixed on your face, the the flicker of the small fire only adding to the heat blazing in his lilac gaze. 

You drew up before him, the toes of your boots just touching his. “I find you quite pretty as well, Huntsman.” 

Sanemi’s eyes closed, his shoulders tense. “I am to deliver you safely to the nearest village.” Lilac irises opened to meet yours and he looked at you gently; apologetically. “We cannot do this.” 

You did not balk. “And if I wanted to stay with you?” You whispered, fingers coming to toy with the folds of his tunic. “What would you say then?” 

Sanemi breathed out a soft sigh of your name, the syllables dripping like honey from his lips. “It is not possible, I’m afraid.” 

You looked up at him through lowered eyelashes and noted how his gaze flicked down to your lips before back to your eyes. “Why?” 

Sanemi’s hand gently brushed a few loose strands of hair back from your face, tucking them behind your ear, and you leaned into the warmth of his touch. “Because you are a beautiful, little lamb, and I am a wolf in a forest of beasts. You do not wish to spend your days here, in the darkness.” 

“You cannot speak to what I want,” you challenged, your fingers rising to clench around his wrist, to hold his hand in place against the side of your head. “My life is my own now; I have no set path.”

“But I would like to travel down yours,” you added quietly, after a moment. 

“It is not one open to transients,” Sanemi warned, though his other hand rose to rest against the dip in your waist, holding you against him.

You only shook your head. “I do not intend to be temporary, Sanemi. I wish to stay with you. I wish to help others as you have helped me.” 

“I’ve yet to help you,” Sanemi said wryly. “Our bargain was that I deliver you to one of the villages on the other side of the Wood. We are still making that journey.”

You stretched up on your toes and boldly pressed your lips against the hollow of his throat, savoring the skipping pace of his heart beneath your mouth. 

“A new bargain, then,” you offered. Sanemi said your name once, as though in warning, but when he did not levy any threat, you only continued, moving your lips up under his jaw.

“You get me to the other side of the Wood. If I still want to stay with you, then you will let me. If I don’t, we will part ways at the first village we come to.”

You’d kissed your way to his lips, but held back, allowing that final line to remain in place between you even as your resolve wavered against the force of your desire for him — for this Huntsman of the Netherwood. 

Sanemi’s eyes fell to your lips, hovering so very closely to his own. “You assume I want you to stay,” he murmured, though he made no move to push you away. “You assume I want to look after a lamb forever.” 

You smiled softly. “Even a lamb can help take care of a wolf.”

Sanemi’s eyes were full of a wariness edged by the faintest trace of hope. “Aye, I suppose that’s true.” The hand against the side of your head fell to caress your cheek. “And as infuriating as I find you to be,” he leaned in close, his lips just barely touching yours. “I do think you quite beautiful, little Lamb.”

You surged forward with a breathy gasp, lips feverishly meeting his as you begged the Huntsman to consume you whole. 

Sanemi responded with equal fervor, his arm locking tightly around your waist as the hand against your face tilted your head slightly to the right, allowing him to deepen the kiss. 

You’d shared a few stolen kisses here and there in your youth with some of the village boys, but never before had you been kissed like this. Never before had you known the passion and all-consuming vigor that the Huntsman poured into you, as he walked the two of you back over roots and loose stones to press you against the roughened bark of a nearby tree. 

No, those kisses had been child’s play. For the way Sanemi’s mouth moved against yours was enough to make you feel as though you’d been dipped in lantern oil and set aflame, and yet you could not find it within yourself to care that you were burning. Not when he molded you against the rigid planes of his body as though to absorb you into his being; not when his thigh slotted between yours, its muscle brushing against a sensitive spot between your legs that had you gasping and Sanemi groaning into your mouth. 

As quickly as it began, it ended, Sanemi breaking away from your lips with a strangled pant as he leapt back, as though scalded by the inferno he’d lit within you. 

There was something untamed in his gaze as he regarded you, his breath choppy as he collected himself. Still stunned by the ferocity with which he’d kissed you, your fingers jumped to your lips, noting the slight swelling now there. 

“I was wrong about you,” Sanemi said breathlessly, his cheeks tinged an alluring shade of pink. “You may not be a lamb after all.” 

Your fingers dropped from your lips as you raised an eyebrow. “Are you saying I am a wolf?” 

Sanemi shook his head, that wildness still blazing in his eyes. “No, not a wolf.” His voice dropped to a purr as he regarded you with a look that made your thighs clench. “You are temptation given physical form.” 

——-

 Neither of you spoke of what transpired against the tree for several hours, though you’d managed to brush aside any lingering awkwardness with light conversation about Sanemi’s time in the Netherwood.

And, despite any lingering doubt as to the sincerity of your words he may have had, Sanemi seemed to naturally gravitate towards you, his hands never straying far from your form as you walked. 

Truthfully, it made you giddy. You’d never experienced the thrill of another man’s touch while in the village, though Kotoha certainly hadn’t spared you any details. Vivid descriptions furtively whispered behind hands, however, were nothing compared to reality. Even Kotoha’s most blush-inducing tales paled in comparison to the electric flash you felt each time Sanemi’s warm hand gripped yours to steer you back from a particularly darkened corner of the woods, or the flutter in your stomach when he lifted you easily up and over unsteady ground, his hands always lingering for a spare second on your waist or the small of your back as you settled. 

It became harder to imagine leaving him once you reached the end of the Wood. With each passing hour, your conviction that you would remain alongside the mysterious Huntsman grew all the stronger. 

The pair of you were resting near a blackberry bush, you perched on a small boulder while Sanemi sharpened his axe, his hand running the small whetting stone against the curve of the blade with precision.

“Have you ever been in love?” The question broke the comfortable silence before you could think better of it.

Sanemi’s sharpening stone paused briefly before continuing along the curve of his axe. “Once,” he said, gruffly.  “Though we were so young, I don’t know if you could properly call it that.” 

You sat up, your curiosity piqued. “Where are they now?” 

The Huntsman hesitated. “She is long-gone. Died here, in the Wood.” 

Your heart clenched. “I’m sorry. I cannot imagine that grief.”

Sanemi did not respond, instead refocusing his attention back to his blade. “It was around four years ago, now.” 

Four years ago. Around the time Sanemi  had begun escorting lost souls through the Netherwood.

“Have you been in the Wood since?” You asked gently, trying to focus on a loose thread handing from your cloak so that he would not feel pressured by your stare. 

Sanemi nodded. “I think,” he cleared his throat. “I think I started helping others as a way to honor her. She was kind that way.”

You smiled at that. “She sounds wonderful; and you do right by her memory.” 

The Huntsman said nothing more, his silence more contemplative as he finished sharpening his weapon. 

By the time the pair of you set back off on your path through the Wood, the morning fog had somewhat subsided, though it’s mist lingered in the denser sections of the forest. 

“Is it normal to not have encountered many of the Wood’s creatures?” You bit down on the shudder you felt at the memory of the partially-eaten corpse you’d encountered a few days prior. “I feel as though we only see the aftermath of the beasts, rather than the monsters themselves.” 

Sanemi smirked quietly to himself, though you did not know what he found amusing about your question. “I suppose that cloak is keeping them at bay, Lamb.” 

You rolled your eyes, knocking your shoulder playfully against his. “Perhaps they’re frightened of the big bad Huntsman,” 

“Perhaps. I’m quite scary.” 

Your hand found his. “Not at all. In fact, I find you quite —“

Your thought was cut off, however, as Sanemi tore his hand from yours to hold an arm out before you, stilling you. You’d traveled with the Huntsman long enough to know he was telling you to be quiet while he listened, his ears far more discerning amidst the silent noise of the forest than yours.

Only it was not silent; in the distance, you could hear raised voices, yelling, and the distinct howls of several hounds.

Your eyes found Sanemi’s, and you were certain yours were as wide as his, as your heart began to thunder against your chest. 

There was a strange melodic chant rising above the cluster of voices some distance through the trees, and you both turned back and strained to listen.

As the jeering voices and barking of dogs drew nearer, it became clearer what was being said — what thing those voices were loudly whooping and mocking amidst the excited titter undercutting their bloodlust.

Your name.

Douma’s men had picked up your trail, and they’d caught up.

“Run.” Sanemi ordered, tearing the leather satchel from his shoulders and looping the strap around yours. “Do you remember which direction north is?” 

Eyes wide and limbs trembling, you nodded, your breath hitched in your throat as every instinct within you was overtaken by sheer terror. Sanemi placed his hands on your shoulders, squeezing firmly to get your attention back on him. 

“Run north,” he repeated. “Follow the river and do not stop. It is against the wind, so it should be harder to track your scent,” Sanemi’s eyes darted up over your shoulder, narrowing as the unseen force drew nearer. “I will catch up to you. Do not drop that satchel.” 

Your mouth opened and closed several times as you gaped at him, fear, so deep and primal, engrained in your every nerve as you realized he intended to send you deeper into the Netherwood. Alone. 

“I cannot — Sanemi,” you begged, your hand gripping his forearm in a desperate attempt to stay close to him, your protector. 

Gently, Sanemi removed your hand from him. “Y/N, I promise I will find you soon. I need to get them,” he jerkily nodded backwards to the voices and dog howls drawing closer and closer to you in the distance. “Off our trail. 

You shook your head, only trembling harder. To separate surely would mean one, if not both of you would die, and you could not bear to leave him to deal with the onslaught of Douma’s men alone. 

“I promise,” you’d not realized Sanemi’s hands had cupped your face until you felt the press of his forehead against yours. “I will find you. Now go.” He urged, and with a slight shove, Sanemi sent you stumbling in the direction you assumed was North. 

With a great deal of reluctance, your legs began to move as you hurried over fallen branches and twisted roots, every pump of your legs growing stronger as your fear intensified. 

You hadn’t known how many men were in pursuit of you, and you’d left Sanemi alone with only an axe to protect himself. 

You’d as good as doomed him. 

But you kept running in the direction you thought was north, eyes frantically trying to track the watery sunlight filtering through the trees. 

The moment you’d chances scanning for the sun meant you did not see the thick, twisting root that had broken across the forest floor, not until your foot became entangled and you were sent sprawling across the dirt. 

Moaning slightly, you scrambled up, refusing to acknowledge the faint bruising pain you felt in your ankle as you moved to keep running. 

A snap of a tree branch froze you in your tracks. As stupid as you were, you turned towards the source of the sound, dread coiling in your gut. A shadow emerged from behind one of the ancient trees of the Wood, clutching something shiny.

A sword; long, wicked and cruelly sharp, and yet somehow, the blade frightened you far less than its wielder, for his face was familiar.

You’d grown up alongside it, after all.

“Well, well,” the boy — man — cooed at you. “We’ve been looking for you for quite sometime, you know?”

You took a step back, eager to put whatever distance you could between yourself and the smirking village boy who looked at you like you were his next meal. 

“K-Kaigaku,” you stuttered in disbelief. “What are you doing? We were — we were friends.”

The boy’s laugh made your blood curdle. “Don’t mock me,” he shifted his sword to rest against his other shoulder as his free hand twirled a small dagger. “I only align myself with the strong, and you are nothing but a weak and pathetic little mouse.” 

“But Lord Douma,” Kaigaku mused, his grin offset by the malice alighting his eyes. “Lord Douma is strong; powerful. I am loyal to him, not you.” 

“Lord Douma?” You repeated, your voice as sharp as the blade glinting in the faint daylight as the boy before you tilted it back and forth. “Is that what he’s told you to call him? What, pray tell, is he lord of — being an egomaniacal, fatuous, greedy murderer?” 

Kaigaku’s smirk unfurled into an ugly sneer as he shifted to point his sword at you. “Watch your mouth, girl.” 

“And what of Kotoha?” You demanded, your anger an untamable fire that burned in your veins. “You were sweet on her once — did she deserve her fate?”

There was no sign of that fondness in the cruelty which lined Kaigaku’s face as he spat, “She spread her legs for some man like a whore and bore his bastard. Lord Douma only made sure she met an end befitting of her filth.” 

“You vile, wretched creature,” you swore. “Damn you! Damn him!” 

That hair-raising smirk reappeared as Kaigaku stepped towards you. “I cannot wait to see what Lord Douma has planned for you. You should’ve seen what he did to your beloved Granny, the hag.”

Your blood turned cold and a stone like lead settled in the pit of your stomach. You’d assumed, of course, that your grandmother had paid with her life in helping you escape, but you could not bear to hear the ways she’d suffered in exchange for your life. 

Somewhere, in the depths of the Netherwood, a wolf howled. 

“Shall I tell you all about it, Y/N?” Kaigaku taunted. “Shall I tell you how your dear Granny screamed as Lord Douma flayed her alive, piece by piece? How she sobbed for your grandfather? For you?” 

Tears burned, as hot as acid in your eyes as you shook. “Stop,”

“It was quite pathetic, really,” Kaigaku sighed. “She went rather quickly. I suppose that’s what happens when you play with old crones — their pathetic little hearts can’t withstand the fun.” 

You were at a loss; part of you wanted to lunge for the boy, to sink your nails into his eyes and rip, to tear him limb from limb as you screamed with rage until even the beasts of the Netherwood could not tell whether you were human or kin. 

But on the other hand, you were just a woman, who’d spent the last five days in the Netherwood and didn’t have so much as a dagger with which to defend yourself. 

And Sanemi told you to run.

You remembered as a boy, Kaigaku had been slow; always the last person to finish a race or outrun the seeker in hide and seek. 

You, on the other hand, had always been faster; you could outrun him.

You had to. You would.

There was a roaring in your head as your mind disconnected from your body and you turned to flee. 

“Don’t you run from me, bitch!” Kaigaku thundered after you, but you did not slow; you hurtled over root and rubble, adrenaline pumping hot and fast to your legs as you ran. 

You’d thought, for one blissful moment, that perhaps you had a chance of evading him, when a silent whirring cut through the silent forest air. 

Pain, blinding pain, exploded somewhere from the side of your thigh, bringing you to your knees as you cried out. Rolling over, your stomach dropped at the unmistakable sensation of blood dripping down your leg, hot and fast. 

Behind you, you heard the thud of Kaigaku’s knife cluttering to the forest floor. 

“Hn, I missed,” the boy scoffed, eyes roaming over you as you bled. “No matter, you can’t run on a wounded leg, can you little girl?” 

Ignoring the dizzying lash of pain that flared in your leg, you scrambled backwards in a crawl, desperate to put some — any — distance between you and your captor. 

“Lord Douma only said to bring you back alive,” Kaigaku hummed, drawing his sword once more. “He did not say to bring you back unscathed.” 

Kaigaku put the tip of his blade right at your chin, tilting your head up to meet his eyes. You glared defiantly up at him, though your show of courage was a mere facade as you beheld the salacious glint reflected in his beady eyes. 

“I think I shall take my time with you,” Kaigaku decided, using his blade to tilt your head back and forth. “After all there is no one here who shall care if you scream; in fact, I prefer you do.” 

Your eyes widened, what remaining fight you still had wavering. 

Alone. You were completely and utterly alone. 

Sanemi had not come; either he was still fighting the other men sent by your cursed fiancé, or he’d been slain, and now the others were making their way to you, to take you back to Douma and let him do as he pleased. 

You were going to die; but you would not die by his hands. Your eyes lowered to the blade still pressed under your chin, its tip grazing against the delicate skin of your throat, teasingly.

Kaigaku’s blade was sharp, even if it’s wielder not; it would not take much effort to slit your own throat on its edge, and it would take even less to bleed out upon the Netherwood’s earthen floor. 

Before you could move, however, Kaigaku’s sword lowered, its tip teasingly tracing along the front seams of your dress. 

“Perhaps we could make this interesting,” Kaigaku smirked, tracing up the valley between your breasts. “He said only to ensure you were untainted for him; he did not say we couldn’t have a taste.” 

Your stomach churned with a toxic mixture of both rage and dread as the sword cut through the first stitch of your bodice. You tried to gather your feet beneath you, enough so that you could launch yourself forward and impale yourself on his blade, when a low growl sounded from behind your assailant.

Kaigaku, too enthralled by his slow torture of you, did not see the mass of white fur and bloodstained teeth leap from the shadows of the Wood; not until it was too late. 

You looked on in horror as a large beast lunged for the boy from your village, tackling him to the side, his sword arm severed at his shoulder from a single swipe of the monster’s mighty claw. Kaigaku only had time to scream once before the nightmare’s massive maw clamped around his neck and tore, spraying his blood and bits of gore across the forest floor. 

Your breath caught and died in your throat, helpless from where you were still splayed pathetically across the dirt as you watched the animal paint the Netherwood with remnants of Kaigaku. 

The monster turned on its haunches towards you, its maw dripping with blood and bits of sinew and flesh, its lip curled back in a snarl. You whimpered as the creature’s silver-lilac eyes settled on you, every inch trembling in abject terror. 

Though overcome by your fear, your brain was able to put together the sight before you that was sure to be your last. The beast slowly advancing towards you was a wolf, though it was much larger than any wolf you’d ever seen, and its brawn rivaled that of an ox’s. 

The wolf boasted a thick coating of silvery-white fur that seemed to glow, as though it bore the essence of a full moon, though its brilliance was dampened somewhat by the smears of crimson saturating it. Under the dim light of the forest, you could not tell whether the blood was that of the wolf or another. 

One colossal paw stepped hesitantly toward you again, and you felt yourself nearly go faint. Weakly, you tried to scramble back further into the wood, but your left leg had gone slightly numb from its wound, and the blood loss was starting to make you feel dizzy. 

It seemed the Netherwood had answered your silent plea to not be sent back to be killed by Douma; instead, you would serve as the next meal for one of its monstrous residents. 

The wolf drew short of you and watched you closely for a moment. With a great shudder, the wolf began to tremble and shake, and your horror melted into wide-eyed disbelief as you watched the wolf shrink and contort until all that was left was a man, blood-stained, naked, and panting on his hands and knees, fingers dug deeply into the dirt below. The man convulsed as began heaving up bile stained with blood and gore.

The sight of scarred forearms and snowy-white hair broke you out into a cold sweat. 

“S-Sanemi?” You croaked, equal parts relieved and terrified, even if another part of you desperately hoped that you were simply hallucinating the image of the nude man wretching up blood before you.

“Aye,” Sanemi grit out between great, shuddering breaths as he spat one final time at the dirt. “It is me.”

He rose, bloodied and naked, from the forest floor and looked to you, his eyes back to their familiar, lavender hue, though they still retained an otherworldly glow. 

There was a loud ringing in your ears as you stared at him, though you weren’t sure if it was from your panic or your blood loss. Sanemi took a cautious step towards you and it sent you scurrying back, a whimper of fright building in your throat.

He faltered, something like pain crossing his face. “Perhaps you should be afraid,” he said quietly. “And you can be — but I need you to throw me that satchel.”

It took you a moment to recollect yourself long enough to register what he was asking. With shaky hands, you unlatched the leather bag from your shoulders and weakly tossed it towards the Huntsman. 

Sanemi was quiet as he dug through the bag, producing a fresh pair of breeches and a clean tunic. With a deftness that seemed as supernatural as his wolf form, Sanemi dressed, concealing his muscular, scarred form from sight once more. 

He said your name once, quietly. “Are you alright?” 

You trembled, hand clutching weakly at the front clasp of your cape. “He killed my grandmother,” you whispered. “H-he tortured her.”

Sanemi approached you slowly, and when you did not flinch away from him once more, he knelt down beside you. His hand came up to gently stroke your hair, and the touch startled you out of your trance, blinking back fat tears as you looked up at him. 

“We need to go,” he said gently and you closed your eyes, nodding.

You’d known, of course, that your Grandmother had been killed; made peace with it, even. But you had not foreseen that she would be tortured for trying to secure your freedom, and the very thought made something inside your heart wither and die. 

“I know,” you murmured quietly. Sanemi straightened, extending a hand to you to help you up when your fingers closed around his wrist, your eyes urgent.

“Did you kill them?” 

Sanemi grimaced. “Yes, Lamb. I killed them all.” 

You nodded. “Good.” You released his wrist and slid your hand into his. “Good.”

Your shock had dulled the sharp, burning throb in your leg while you’d processed the fact that Sanemi was not a mere huntsman, but a wolf of the Wood. But now that the shock had worn off, the pain slammed back into you with full force as you tried to stand, your leg collapsing uselessly under you as you cried out. 

Sanemi’s nostrils flared and there was a murderous glint in his eyes as he crouched down beside you, eyes locked onto your left side, fingers clenching around the torn folds of your dress and lifting it up. 

“S-Sanemi!” You squeaked, batting his hand away but no to avail. The huntsman — the wolf — managed to pull back the skirts of your dress to reveal the torn flesh of your thigh. 

“Was it him?” Sanemi’s voice was low, his head jerking back over his shoulder in the vague direction where he’d left Kaigaku in pieces. 

You nodded, eyes wide as you watched him inspect the wound. “A knife. He threw it.” 

The huntsman exhaled harshly through his nose. “We’re too vulnerable in the open like this — especially because you’re bleeding.” 

Sanemi sat back on his haunches and pulled his small hunting knife from the leather satchel strewn on the ground. Silently, he leaned forward and wound some of the bottom fabric of your dress around the blade and wrenched, tearing a sizeable scrap cloth from the skirt in one clean stroke. 

Sanemi then reached under your skirt and tugged the shorter end of your linen shift down. “It’s not ideal but it’s cleaner than your outer skirt,” he said by way of explanation at your raised eyebrows and hitched breath. “It’ll do until I can get you somewhere safer. We’re sitting ducks out here. Your scent is bound to attract something.” 

You nodded, gulping. Words were still far too difficult to come by, so you settled for watching your handsome guide as he worked, mouth set in a firm, hard line. 

Sanemi tore another strip of linen from your shift and laid it delicately over his knee. His eyes flicked to yours, once, and you felt slightly ashamed at the way your breath hitched, as though waiting for those lilac irises to bleed silver once more. 

“May I?” His hands were stilled above the exposed flesh of your shin, and you knew he’d need to lift more to bandage your thigh. You nodded after a moment, though your hesitation did not stem from any fear you held for the scarred man delicately sliding his hands up the length of your wounded leg; rather, the heat that crept up your neck came from the way goose flesh erupted over the skin beneath his roughened yet gentle touch. 

Sanemi’s fingers were steady as he gently guided your leg to the side, rotating it in his palm so that the gash was perpendicular to the forest floor. 

At the sight of your bloodied, torn flesh, Sanemi growled. “I should’ve made the little bastard suffer far more.” He said darkly, reaching into his satchel to pull a small skien of water to clean off the wound as much as possible. 

At the first splash of water against your ragged skin, you flinched, hissing through clenched teeth as the cold fluid chased away the spare bit of blood. For a moment, you could see that the cut left behind the blade was deeper than you’d thought, though not so much so that it required more than a good bandaging and perhaps some stitching.  

At least it had not been entirely flayed open. 

The hand Sanemi had braced on your knee to keep your leg steady rubbed soothingly at your skin as he repeated the motion once more, letting the water cleanse the wound once more. “Atta girl,” he praised softly. “It’s done. I just need to wrap it.” 

It amazed you that such a hardened, rough Huntsman — Wolf — had such a gentle touch. His hands were like feathers as he wound the clean strip of linen around your thigh, the only pressure stemming from the knot he’d fastened to keep it secure around your leg. Sanemi then wrapped the other torn fabric from your outer skirt around the makeshift bandage, knotting it in a similar fashion to the one beneath. 

“To keep the one below from becoming dirty,” he offered plainly at your raised eyebrow. “Can you stand?” 

Now that the adrenaline of yojr earlier encounter had worn off, the throb in your leg had become all the more pronounced. Teeth clenched, you gripped the Huntsman’s hands tightly as you rose from your seat on the tree stump, eyebrows furrowed in determination. Sanemi did not remove his hands from you, but kept them out and ready as you tentatively shifted your weight to test your wounded leg.

It was no good; the pain shot through you like an arrow and nearly buckled the knee on your good leg. With a cry of frustration, you  stumbled back against Sanemi, the Huntsman’s arm looping easily around your waist to help lower you back down against the stump upon which he’s sat you. 

“Damn it all,” you cursed, wincing at the angry throb in your leg. “It cannot bear weight.” 

Sanemi pursed his lips as he looked over you, considering. “Allow me,” he said after a moment, squatting down next to you, motioning for you to wrap your arm around his shoulders.

You hesitated; you were not scared of the Huntsman, even after witnessing his terrifying true form, but your apprehension lingered, a primal fear baked deep within your core that told you you should be scared of the predator beside you. That, mixed with your blood loss, made you pause, even though you’re traveled alongside the fearless Huntsman for nearly a week. 

And Sanemi noticed.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured, his arm locked steadily around your waist as he lifted you to your feet, your weight pressed against his chest.

You did not trust your words so you only nodded. Despite the remaining wariness you felt, you longed for his comfort more. You lifted your hand to cup the side of his jaw so you could tilt his face down, bringing his forehead against yours. 

Sanemi whispered your name and your eyes lifted up to meet the smoldering heat of his gaze. 

A knuckle brushed against the curve of your cheek. “Are you frightened of me now, little Lamb?” 

Your fingers gripped the collar of his tunic, a desperation wracking through you at the thought he might pull away and remove the steadying warmth of his arms from around your frame.  

“No. It is not you that frightens me; it is him.”

The arm around your waist tightened. “He will not get to you; I swear it. I will not allow him to lay a finger on you.” 

Your breath shuddered and your eyes squeezed tight. You felt the discomforting press of panic building in your lungs, threatening to choke the air from your throat until a warm finger curled under your chin, followed only by a rugged whisper of your name. 

You opened your eyes and there he was; the only person left alive who you could count on; who had proven, time and again, that your welfare mattered to him. Who treated you like you meant something.

You craved that feeling — craved him. 

“Kiss me, Sanemi.” You murmured, your lips separated by a breath. “Please.” 

Sanemi did not hesitate as he gently brought his lips against yours, the hand under your chin moving to cup the back of your head, holding you steady against him like he was the only real, solid thing in the world. 

Your hands, no longer shaking, unclenched from where they’d been locked around the collar of his tunic and slid behind his neck, fingers tangling in his hair. 

Sanemi sighed against your lips, allowing himself to get lost in the way they moved against his, just as you did. Against the solid rock of his body and under the spell of his soft mouth, it was easy to allow yourself to forget the danger that threatened to creep in from the shadows.  

Lost in your kiss, you made the mistake of trying to shift your weight from your good leg to the bad, causing both knees to buckle. At your small whimper of pain, Sanemi broke away.

“You’re too injured to walk,” He murmured against your lips. “So I shall carry you.” 

He broke away with a final peck, stepping back and reaching behind him to haul his tunic over his head. “Unless you would like to see all of me, little Lamb,” Sanemi’s smirk was devilish. “Then I suggest you close your eyes for a moment.”

The heat his words sparked in your veins dulled the throb of your wounded leg. “And if I desire to see you?” 

Sanemi only shrugged. “Then I suppose I shall have to put on a show.” 

The huntsman held your eyes as his hands went to the hastily tied laces of his breeches, tugging the strings open with ease. 

You fidgeted against the broken stump he’d perched you on, just as Sanemi shrugged down the soft suede of his breeches, revealing that damnable v-line that made your head spin. A few more inches lower, and there was his manhood, hanging thick and heavy between his muscular and scar-speckled thighs. 

He was a sight to behold. 

“Is this your first time seeing a man, Lamb?” Sanemi’s voice broke you out of the reverent trance you’d been in whilst admiring every rocky plane of his body. 

Your mouth had turned dryer than a summer drought, and so you only nodded your head, unable to tear your eyes from the immaculate form that made up the huntsman of the Netherwood. 

To your dismay, Sanemi stepped back from where you sat, again and again until he was several lengths back. You opened your mouth in protest, but he only shook his head. 

“Don’t want you to be too close, my sweet.” He called from a distance.

You frowned. “Too close for what —“

Your question was cut off by a small scream as Sanemi leapt forward, that silver fur exploding forth from him as a large wolf landed only feet from where he’d once stood. 

Now it was clear why he’d put such distance between you; had Sanemi been any closer when he shifted, one of those mighty claws embedded in his law — nearly as long as your hand — would have surely ripped you clean in half. 

Your heart hammered in your chest as Sanemi’s wolf form drew closer. Now, without the weight of terror and the pressing conviction that you were about to die, you allowed yourself to fully appreciate the wolf before you. 

His scars were still visible, though less so in contrast to his human form, his thick fur providing a fair degree of cover.  In this form, you could see that were you to stand, your head would barely reach his shoulder. 

Sanemi grunted as he crouched out, the puff of air from his considerable snout warming over your legs. He looked up at you expectantly, an amused twinkle in his wolffish eyes. 

You gaped at him. “You want me to ride you?” 

Another amused chuff. 

“And how, great and mighty wolf, do you suggest I climb onto your back with a half-severed leg?” You dramatized. “Shall I flop?” 

You couldn’t be sure, but it seemed that the Wolf rolled his eyes. Sanemi pressed his large body against your good side, nudging you with his great shoulder to signal for you to grab his fur.

You took a handful of the silvery coat, surprised at its softness. “Do not bite me just because you think I pull too hard,” you warned, half serious, and Sanemi huffed in annoyance. 

Using the wolf as leverage, you heaved yourself up, Sanemi pressing steadily into your side as you found your footing against him. Slowly, and with less grace than you were willing to admit, you managed to climb atop Sanemi’s back, awkwardly swinging your injured leg over the opposite side.

Once settled, Sanemi rose beneath you, rising to his full height. Sat atop him, you were willing to bet he was taller than most horses back in the village. 

The great wolf sniffed at the air once before lowering himself into a crouch, and springing forth into the Wood.

————

Riding atop Sanemi had been the most exhilarating experience of your life. 

Though, you also could not recall the last time such a ride had left you more frightened, given that you’d spent a great deal of it crouched low against his neck, fearing that if you rose your head even a fraction of an inch, some low-hanging tree would embed itself in your face. 

You supposed you would have kept riding longer, had your stomach not given a great gurgle after an hour or so atop the wolf. With a growl that you thought sounded suspiciously like a laugh, Sanemi paused in a small clearing near a rocky, moss-covered cliff, disappearing behind the lip of the rock once he’d situated you upon a felled log.

A few moments later, human Sanemi emerged, re-dressed, but his face was severe.

“They will keep coming,” Sanemi’s frustration was clear as he shrugged the fresh tunic over his head, the delectable ridges of his abdomen and the alluring dip of his hips concealed from your sight once more. “So long as they can track your scent, they will keep pursuing you.” 

You did not need to ask to whom he referred; the very same fear had gnawed at you even despite the exhilaration of riding Sanemi’s wolf form.

Your appreciation of the huntsman’s physique stalled as fear bubbled again in your gut. “What can I do?” Your whisper was shaky and it made Sanemi pause, his hand twitching towards you. “I cannot change my scent in the middle of the damn Wood—“

“You can,” Sanemi said quickly, and to your surprise, the tips of his ears turned pink. “Or— rather, I can help.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Because you are a wolf? Should I call you that now, instead of ‘Huntsman,’ or ‘Sanemi?’”

“You can call me whatever you desire, so long as you allow me to protect you.” Sanemi retorted evenly.

You tried to keep your voice steady even as you blushed. “And how would you do that, Wolf?” 

There was a dark glint in Sanemi’s eyes at your new nickname for him. “A bite from a wolf can change your scent.”

You balked at him. “A bite?” 

“Aye,” the Huntsman said casually, as though he was merely discussing the weather. “It would leave a small mark, but that mark would alter your scent enough to make you harder to track.”

You thought for a moment, the blush on your cheeks deepening. “Where would you bite me?” 

It was Sanemi’s turn to turn pink. “Likely your neck,” he fidgeted with a stick he used to poke the dying campfire. 

You gulped. “Would you have to transform?” 

Sanemi’s small smile was handsome, even if it looked a little feral. “No, Lamb. I can stay in this form.” 

You watched your protector for a moment, weighing your options. “Come here, Sanemi.”

His eyes snapped to yours, a bottomless heat turning his lilac gaze molten. Slowly, with the grace of a predator silently stalking its prey, Sanemi made his way over to where you sat, drawing short once the tips of his boots grazed yours. 

“Do you swear it? It will keep them from being able to track me?” You asked, voice trembling slightly as you peered up at the Huntsman. 

He nodded, slowly. A hand reached out to caress your cheek, and your breath lodged in your throat as you found yourself leaning into his warmth. 

You managed to exhale around the lump that had formed in your throat. “Then I will allow it.”

Your heart skipped like a rabbit’s against your sternum as Sanemi leaned in close, the warmth of his breath chasing away the chill of the Wood’s air.

“So delicate,” Sanemi murmured, his nose skimming along the slope between your neck and shoulder. “So soft.”

“W-wolf?” Your voice was high, your hands trembling as they jumped to clutch at Sanemi’s forearms, nails digging into his skin in anticipation. “Will it hurt?”

He huffed a laugh against your skin, the gentle tickle of his warm air sending goosebumps along your exposed skin. “No, little Lamb,” his lips danced along your shoulder, back towards the sensitive spot connecting with your neck. “You will feel a prick and then you will feel warm.” 

You nodded, the ends of Sanemi’s cornsilk hair tickling your throat. “I’m ready. Bite me — please.”

Sanemi’s groan was followed by a cold, sharp sting that sunk into the tender flesh between your shoulder and neck that was quickly chased away by a soothing warmth. The huntsman’s mouth latched to your neck as he buried his teeth in you, his tongue stroking soothingly around where he now bit.

It felt like someone had poured warmed honey into your veins. It spread, thick and sweet from your neck throughout your body, making you feel like you’d sunk into a hot bath on a cold day. That warmth coiled in your belly and ignited something fluttery and pleasurable between your legs as you tilted your head to the side, exposing more of your neck to the wolf caging you in against the tree.

Your submission evoked a low growl from his chest, deep and rumbling as Sanemi pressed harder into you, his hands bunching your dress at your sides as he continued to suck at your neck. The feeling of his body molded tightly against yours and the way his mouth worked at that delicate spot made you moan out, the sound finally jolting something within the huntsman as he gave you one final kick, before tearing himself away. 

“Dear gods, woman,” he heaved, breath coarse. “Are you trying to drive me wild?”

You flushed as you panted, staring at him with wide eyes. Whatever you’d been expecting, it hadn’t been that; you’d not foreseen that the act of Sanemi biting you could feel so intimate, could make you long for him to run his hands under your dress, to touch you in your most sacred places until you begged for him.

He was dangerous; it was thrilling.

“Kiss me again,” you breathed, and Sanemi obeyed, his mouth moving fervently against yours as his tongue caressed your lower lip. Sensing the silent request, you opened for him, and Sanemi’s tongue swept into your mouth, licking at yours as his teeth nipped along your lower lip. 

You thought he might devour you; you wanted to let him. 

But Sanemi suddenly pulled away from you as though he’d been burned, eyes wide and breath hard. 

You blinked in surprise. “Sanemi, what —,”

“We need to go,” he said firmly, his cheeks flushed red. At his sides, his hands curled tightly into fists.

—-

The rest of your journey was oddly strained. Despite having grown closer with enigmatic Huntsman over the last several days of your travels, you suddenly felt as though you’d been catapulted back to square one.

Though he still allowed you ride upon his back in wolf form, gone were the amused chuffs and snorts that he used to signal he was listening to your mindless chatter. Instead, the wolf below you remained tense, a cord pulled tight that was liable to snap at the drop of a hat.

As much as you wished it made you angry so that you could snipe at him, Sanemi’s sudden introversion stoked an uncomfortable self-consciousness within you, and you found yourself desperately grappling for an explanation.

Had you tasted badly, when he’d bit you? Did he suddenly no longer find himself drawn to you, now that your scent was different?

Or, even worse, had he realized that perhaps he did not want you to stay with him in the Wood after all, and was now attempting to put distance between you so that you would be more willing to leave him once you reached the edge of the forest?

The thought made your stomach clench painfully.

Sanemi’s distance did not abate even by the time he slowed to a stop for the night. He’d brought the two of you to a clearing in the Wood that bordered alongside a winding river, crested by a waterfall. Sanemi finally lowered himself to the pebbled ground of the riverbank, muscles twitching as though to hasten you along in sliding off him to balance yourself against a mid-sized boulder, before he stalked back towards the trees, his leather satchel in his mouth.

He avoided even your gaze as he stalked into the shallows of the river, spearing two fish with a sharpened stick he’d fashioned. Sanemi hadn’t so much as thrown a word your way as he’d started a small fire, apparently relying on dusk to conceal the small smoke billowing up.

Despite the coolness of the evening air, you noted Sanemi was sweating as he’d flung out the stick bearing your flame-cooked fish dinner towards you.

In accepting the spear, your fingers accidentally brushed against his and Sanemi recoiled — hard.

“What is wrong with you?” You snapped. “Why will you not touch me? Why do you flinch whenever I am near?”

“I do not,” Sanemi answered hotly through clenched teeth, though the muscle that ticked in his jaw betrayed his frustration. “Am I suddenly required to touch you?”

You folded your arms across your chest, eyes narrowed. “You certainly had no objection to it earlier — especially not when you threw me up against a tree.”

“Threw you —“ Sanemi choked off, his returning glare both indignant and enraged. “As I recall it was you who kissed me.”

“And as I recall, it was you who started doing that — that thing with your tongue,” you accused lamely, though any bite in your words was tempered by the blush creeping up your face.

Sanemi scoffed. “You cannot even speak of it without blushing like a little girl, and yet I am the one acting strange?” He leaned back on the piece of driftwood he’d claimed as his seat, arms folded across his chest, head turned pointedly away from you.

As you mulled over a number of insults to call the temperamental Huntsman sitting across front you, the last remnants of the sun faded from the night sky, and overhanging clouds briefly parted to reveal the moon — nearly full, its silvery glow illuminating the riverbank.

The moon’s rays reached where you and the Huntsman had set up camp when suddenly your hand jumped to your shoulder as you cried out.

Sanemi startled forward with a worried growl of your name. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

You grit your teeth, fingers digging harshly into your shoulder as you winced. “Something is — is burning, but I do not know what.”

You were certain the only injury your sustained had been the wound to your thigh by Kaigaku’s knife. But you’d spent enough time in and around flame to know what a burn felt like, and it felt as though something had been branded into you, its throb almost crippling.

You cried out again and Sanemi quickly crossed the dirt and took you into his arms, though you felt him flinch as he did so. “Where?”

You gestured wildly to your shoulder, too distracted by the way his presence made the burn now pulse, sending lashes of heat throughout your body, though there was a maddening edge of pleasure blooming from every part of you that was pressed against him.

Sanemi’s fingers grasped the collar of your dress and wrenched it to the side, swearing softly as he beheld whatever it was he saw.

“What is it?” You managed to grind out, your fingers digging into the muscles of his forearms to keep him anchored to you, as though he were capable of keeping the flames licking at your skin at bay. “Kaigaku did not touch me there — at least, I don’t think —,”

“It was not that boy who did this,” Sanemi said severely, his finger gingerly caressing the spot where your neck met your shoulder. You moaned as his touch extinguished some of the burning fire which had ignited your skin, too lost in the temporary relief to note the way Sanemi’s hands tightened around you. “It was I.”

That stilled you. “What do you mean?” You turned your head, peering up at the Wolf with wide eyes. “From when you changed my scent?”

Sanemi, for once, looked discomforted. “I think —,” he swallowed once, avoiding your gaze as he stepped back. You almost cried out at the loss of his body against yours, as the burn returned once more.

“I think I marked you; but I-“ Sanemi stuttered, his eyebrows drawing together in confusion as he stared at the ground, his weight shifting uneasily from foot to foot. “But it shouldn’t be affecting you — not like this.”

“You marked me?” Your hand fluttered to the fleshy juncture between your shoulder and neck. You gasped as your fingers brushed against a curious raise in your skin that hadn’t been there before, the strange curvature burning a few degrees warmer than the area around it.

The huntsman’s eyes remained resolutely fixed on the ground of the forest. “I told you I would cover your scent.”

You stroked the the mark, fingers tracing the odd curve, like that of a crescent moon. “What does the mark mean?”

Sanemi hesitated.

“Wolf?”

“It is a mating mark.” Sanemi admitted after a long moment, hand jumping to his hair as he ran his fingers anxiously through his silvery-white locks.

A stunned breath blew past your lips, your eyes wide. “M-mating mark?” You repeated, hand freezing where the telling crescent was emblazoned upon your skin.

Sanemi looked equal parts apologetic and scared. “I swear, I did not know it would affect you — wolves have to accept the mating mark to feel it, so I did not think —.” He ran a frazzled hand through his hair, his anguish apparent. “I thought I would be the only one to feel its call. I swear it.”

In the back of your mind, it registered that the mark perhaps was the reason for Sanemi’s sudden change towards you, but the incessant burning you felt would not allow you to question him on it.

“What does this mean?” You cried out again as the mark surged, the pain reaching all the way down between your legs, making you gasp. “Are we — are we m-mated?”

Sanemi’s eyes flashed. “No,” his voice was firm, urgent. “You still have to accept the mark for us to be mated — that’s why I thought it was safe. It was supposed to change your scent enough for us to avoid those men.”

“I swear to you I do not plan on acting on it; I meant only to help protect you. I fully intend on escorting you to the nearest village, as promised, and then I will leave. That mark does not have to mean anything to you.”

You believed him. The slight panic in his eyes as you winced at the mark’s repetitive flare once more could not be faked. Furthermore, you knew Sanemi would have no reason to bind you to him; not when you’d already made it clear that you wanted to stay.

You still did.

Sanemi’s earlier words echoed in your mind. That mark does not have to mean anything to you.

“But it will mean something to you, yes?” You demanded, drawing yourself up tall even as you sat perched upon the driftwood. “The mark?”

Sanemi hesitated again. “Wolves only mark once.”

He did not offer any further explanation, nor did he need to; you understood well enough.

The Huntsman had marked you, knowing full well he’d never be able to claim another as his mate. He’d done that, knowing that if another came along that won his heart, he could not be with them completely — not in the way his nature would desire.

And he’d done it nonetheless; all for the sake of giving her a chance to escape Douma’s clutches and to be free.

He’d put you first.

You hadn’t doubted the sincerity of your offer to him earlier, but now, there was no way he’d get rid of you. You would not allow it.

“And what would you do if I said I accepted it — accepted the mating bond?” You asked, voice as soft as a feather.

Sanemi snorted, pulling away from you to busy himself with stoking the small campfire. “I would say that you are an innocent, little lamb who does not understand what it means to be claimed by a wolf.”

“I understand well enough,” you replied, indignant. “I know what it means for people to give into their carnal desires.”

“You know nothing, you’ve never even seen a man before today.” The huntsman shot back, tossing another piece of kindling into the small fire. “You have never laid with another, much less a wolf.”

“It cannot be all that different,” you pouted. “You appear before me man enough.”

Sanemi closed the gap between your bodies then, coming to sit beside you on the rock, fingers curling under your chin to tilt your head up.

His eyes glinted with a sudden predatory heat. “It is quite different, little lamb.” He murmured. “I may now stand before you a man, but I am very much still a wolf. I would not take you like an ordinary human.”

There it was again — that heat, so foreign and yet so enticing, flickered to life once more in the depths of your belly, and the urge to rub your thighs together suddenly became overwhelming. With bated breath, you watched as Sanemi’s nostrils flared softly, his pupils dilating as the grip under your chin tightened ever so slightly.

“Then how would you take me, wolf?” You whispered, eyes not wavering from his. “How would I accept the mating bond?”

Sanemi’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment, opening only after a shaky exhale of his breath. “You would have to take my knot.”

Your gaze dropped to his lips, the warmth from your mark spreading across your skin along with the sudden urge to feel them move against your own. “Your knot?”

“My knot,” Sanemi repeated, “and that is precisely why I cannot mate you, little lamb.”

You tugged your bottom lip between your teeth, a movement Sanemi’s eyes followed, his tongue flicking out to wet his own lips.

You pressed your chest flush against his front, hands seeking out his in the dark. “And what if I wanted it?”

Sabemi groaned, fingers latching onto your waist, though whether he sought to push you away or keep you anchored in place, you could not say. “Christ, woman. One would almost think you enjoyed torturing this poor wolf.”

You leaned into him, head tilting as you sought the knowledge of his soft lips against yours. “Not torturing,” you whispered, a hair’s breath separating your mouth from his. “Willingly offering myself to him.”

Your lips brushed against his and Sanemi moaned, his hands reaching to snare in your hair as he moved his mouth desperately against yours, teeth nipping and sucking on your lower lip, like he was hungry to consume you. But before he could, your pulled your head back, breaking the kiss.

“Do it, wolf,” you whispered. “Take me. Claim me as your mate.”

Sanemi grabbed you by your jaw, cheeks squishing beneath his firm grip. “Do you know what that would mean?” His voice was rough, his eyes burning with his desire. “If I did, we would be bonded. Permanently. For life.”

He said it as if you had not guessed it to be true; as if you weren’t prepared.

You gazed up at him through your eyelashes, eyes round and full of the innocence he claimed he could not taint. “Would you have it be another?”

Sanemi took the bait, a feral growl tearing from his chest as he crushed your body against his.

“No,” he snarled, and his mouth descended upon yours once more, his hot tongue sweeping into your mouth to swallow your breathy gasp as you threaded your fingers through his soft, moon-kissed hair.

You moaned into his mouth, hands greedily roaming the rocky planes of his chest, nails scratching lightly along his skin.

“You will be the death of me,” the Huntsman breathed against your lips. “You truly want to accept the bond?”

You moaned, nodding vigorously as Sanemi trailed his lips across your jaw and down your neck, his hands beginning to roam up your sides, tugging you down with him against the boulder so that you straddled his sides.

“Very well,” he murmured. “But I will not claim you here,” Sanemi said gruffly against the delicate skin of your throat, lips pressed against where your pulse fluttered. “I cannot.”

You whined and ground your hips down against his thighs, savoring the way the steely firmness of them pressed against something between your legs that made you feel electric.

“I must take you to my den,” the huntsman clarified, pulling back slightly in spite of your small whine. “When wolves like me claim a mate, we…do not like to be disturbed.”

Sanemi’s fingered the front laces of the stay secured around your bust, slowly undoing the careful lacing as he spoke, though his eyes did not leave yours. “And because it will be a full moon when I mate you, I will go into heat. It will last a very long time.”

“How long?” You fought to keep your head from falling back as you watched Sanemi work, the warmth of his hands seeping through the cotton and linen layers of your dress, making your breasts pebble with every loosened tie of your corset.

Sanemi hummed as he leaned forward, tracing his lips over the exposed skin just below your collarbone as his fingers worked the last of your stays. “At least a day; perhaps two. Other wolves have claimed it lasts shorter when one has a mate, as opposed to having to weather it alone.”

The top swells of your breasts were exposed as Sanemi finally freed you from your outer corset, allowing it to fall to the ground beside you.

The huntsman skimmed his nose over the top of your shift where the tops of your soft mounds peaked over, letting his tongue peek out to follow the trail. The feeling of the hot wetness of his mouth made you fidget in his lap, a whine building in your throat, desperate to have him touch more.

“A-and will you — ah,” you moaned as Sanemi tugged the bodice of your dress and shift down your shoulders, exposing your peaked breasts to the night air. “Will y-you mate m-me the whole t-time — oh god, Sanemi,”

“I could get used to you saying my name like that,” The huntsman chuckled, bending to take one of your breasts fully in his mouth, sucking and rolling his tongue over your stiffened nipple. The contact made the mark on your shoulder burn with a sensual heat that you felt shoot straight down between your legs, and you ground against his thigh, mewling for more.

Sanemi looked up at you as he swirled his tongue over the fleshy skin of your mound, his pupils blown wide. “Perhaps,” he muttered in response to your question, in between light sucks. “It depends on how well you take my knot, you sweet thing.”

You moaned again as Sanemi moved his mouth across the valley between your breasts, taking the other mound between his lips and teeth, his hand rising to keep the other warm. He suckled at you for a moment until you were a whimpering, trembling mess atop him, before he pulled off with a lewd pop!

“But no matter,” You shivered as Sanemi’s teeth grazed your ear. “I promise I will make you feel so good, little Lamb.”

“Why must we wait,” you asked impatiently. “I am ready to be your mate now — I promise I can take your knot right here.”

Sanemi snarled against your skin, but it was not in warning. Rather, your words seemed to stir something deep within him, as the bulge between his legs hardened even more, and the building friction between it and demanding ache in your core intensified.

Sanemi shifted your hips in his lap so the apex of your thighs was no longer pressed flush against his hardness.

“You, my flower, smell far too tempting for me to risk having you in such a vulnerable way in the middle of the damn Wood, without any cover.”

Sanemi, lips traipsed along your jaw as he hummed. “There are many creatures lurking in the shadows that would see my mating you as an opportunity to take a bite for themselves.”

You tugged on his hair, trying to get him to meet your eyes. “I thought my scent was alluring only to you?”

“You don’t just appeal to me, little Lamb,” Sanemi said pointedly. “You have a rare scent that attracts all sorts of creatures here in the Wood.”

“But it is different now?” You pondered, fidgeting in the Huntsman’s lap until the ridge of his thigh pressed against that spot between your legs that made you want to sing.

You hummed and used your grip in his hair as leverage to tilt his head to the side, your lips caressing down the side of Sanemi’s neck, savoring the faint, salty taste of him on your tongue as his fingers dug into your hips.

“Yes,” he said hoarsely. “Your scent has changed, thanks to your mark.”

You pulled away from your assault on his neck to pout at him, lower lip jutting out in a way that made Sanemi’s eyes darken. “So I do not smell as good anymore? To you, that is?”

With a low growl, Sanemi stood, hands gripping under your thighs as he lifted you before he laid you out against the river stone. “Quite the opposite, Lamb,” he quipped, voice low and heady. “To me, there is no finer perfume. Your scent calls to me; it nearly sends me into a frenzy.”

You found yourself incapable of coherent thought — much less speech — as Sanemi’s hands slid up your legs, bunching the skirts of your dress with every inch of skin he passed over until you felt the night air delicately brushing the heat between your legs.

Your legs spread and supported between his grip and the smooth of the rock, Sanemi leaned forward and kissed you, his tongue sliding past your lips to lick teasingly at the roof of your mouth before he broke away, imprinting his kiss down your exposed torso.

You watched him, enthralled by the way your body seemed to come alive under his touch. Even in the dark of the Wood, you could make out the lilac swirls of Sanemi’s eyes as he watched you, noting every gasp and sigh he pulled from you as his hands and mouth explored the planes of your body.

“What curious eyes you have, Wolf.” Your breath was short, choppy as Sanemi’s lips descended past your breasts, caressing the soft of your belly.

“The better to see your pretty face, my sweet,” Sanemi murmured, pressing a sweet kiss right below your belly button, the fire within your gut leaping like oil in a hot pan.

“W-what — oh,” you moaned as you felt his lips press against your hip, the broad expanse of his hands smoothing down over your thighs, pushing the last of your skirts up, and allowing the searing heat of his hands to meet your untouched skin. “What large hands you have.”

“The better to feel you — to caress every inch of you,” Sanemi’s voice was husky as his fingers trailed up the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, spreading them wider so he could kneel. One hand gripped the back of your knee and gently tugged your injured leg over his shoulder, so your foot rest against the middle of his back.

His hot breath danced teasingly along your inner thigh as Sanemi’s mouth drew closer an closer to where you ached for him, the night air cool as it licked at your tender, heated flesh.

The feel of his mouth drawing nearer to to the most intimate part of your body made you feel as though you’d been set alight. “Such soft lips you have, Wolf.”

Sanemi chuckled, the sound so dark and rich it sent a shiver up your spine. “The better to taste you with, little Lamb.”

Your breath hitched as you felt something warm and hot flatten against your folds and drag up, Sanemi groaning into you as he repeated the movement, again and again.

His tongue, you realized as a strangled cry fell from your lips, your head falling back against the creek stone. He was exploring you with his tongue.

“Sweet,” Sanemi groaned in between wet, sticky laps against your folds. “So fuckin’ sweet.”

Every nerve in your body felt as though it had been set alight, the mark between your shoulder and neck burning deliciously.

Sanemi’s tongue flattened against your core, his nose pressing sharply against the pearl between your legs as he rocked his face from side to side, smearing your juices all over his maw.

“O-oh gods,” you cried out, hips bucking against his ministrations.

Sanemi’s hot tongue circled your entrance once before dipping inside, his teeth grazing your most sensitive spot as he buried the wet appendage inside your core.

His name fell in a breathy scream from your lips as you bowed up off the creek rock, hands shooting to anchor themselves in his hair as Sanemi began moving his tongue in and out of your fluttering core, his nose bumping and pressing against that delicate pearl at the apex of your thighs as he moved.

“My gods,” Sanemi grunted into your folds. “You are heaven on earth.”

You bucked against him once more, though you could not tell whether you sought more of his tongue or whether your body was trying to squirm away, too overcome by the pleasurable sensations Sanemi bestowed upon you as he worked his mouth against you. It did not matter either way, however, for every time you twitched away from him, the Huntsman’s hot, silky mouth only followed you, your cunt this predator’s dinner.

And apparently, he enjoyed playing with his food.

The frequency of your moans increased as the sounds of Sanemi feasting between your legs grew louder and ever more lewd, his own sounds of pleasure muffled by the repeated wet smacks of his mouth against your dripping folds as he sucked you between his lips and teeth and continued fucking you with his tongue.

“S-Sanemi! Oh — oh gods,” you cried as something coiled tightly behind your navel, making your thighs clench around the Wolf’s head as he worked.

Sanemi only responded with another groan, his hand leaving the supple flesh of your inner thigh to stroke against your folds, making you buck all the more against the stone as his roughened fingers brushed delicately against the spot that made you see stars.

His tongue pulled out of you in favor of flicking the bead at the apex of your legs, his fingers moving to your entrance and deftly pushing in, the wetness leaking from your core ensuring that they slid in without much resistance.

You cried out then, utterly overwhelmed by the way Sanemi’s finger began to work inside you, curling and pumping and stroking along your innermost walls until your entire body vibrated below him.

The hand supporting your thigh over his shoulder tightened as Sanemi resumed his oral assault on that small nub above your entrance, sucking and licking at it until the only sound leaving your throat were feverish cries of his name, your hips involuntarily jerking against him. With each passing moment that Sanemi spent feasting between your legs, something began to mount behind your navel, like a coil being steadily wound tighter and tighter.

You thought it should concern you, this foreign feeling, but as that feeling intensified, so too did your desire to see what would happen when it — you — came undone.

You left one hand gripping harshly at the Wolf’s hair, in some pathetic attempt to keep his face locked against your core, and lifted the other to pinch and roll your breast. You jolted at the stimulation, feeling yourself grow even wetter despite the fervor with which Sanemi lapped and suckled at you.

This appeared to please him, as Sanemi’s free hand moved from your thought to grip at your hip, pressing you even closer to his face until you wondered whether he could breathe. If he could not, the Huntsman did not seem to mind; his groans and growls against your cunt only intensified.

Sanemi slid a second finger into you, and then a third, and the resulting stretch made you see stars, your toes curling in your boots.

That thing in your stomach seized even tighter and your entire body tensed, as though you were on a precipice merely awaiting a slight force to tip you over and sending you hurtling to the depths below.

Whatever was happening to you, the Wolf seemed to anticipate it; for the moment that tight coil within your belly unwound, Sanemi’s fingers pulled hurriedly out of your opening only to be replaced by his tongue, his teeth pressed against your pearl. He lapped up every drop of release that spilled forth, humming and growling as you rode his tongue through the waves of crippling pleasure coursing through you.

As you came down from your high with a breathy sigh of his name, Sanemi shuddered beneath you, a strangled groan lilting out from his mouth between lazy slurps at your cunt. Though your vision was hazy, you could see the faint whites of his eyes peeking through his lids as they rolled back into his head, his fingers tightening their grip on your thighs until it was painful, before releasing once more.

The mark on your neck burned but it was no longer in agony; instead, it felt warm, like a part of your body left too long in the summer sun. but the heat was not entirely unwelcome, especially as Sanemi untangled himself from you, allowing the chill of the late autumn wind to sweep in and lick at your exposed skin.

“That should hold us both over until tomorrow,” Sanemi said after a moment with a throaty chuckle. “Though I will be hard pressed to keep my hands off you, little Lamb.”

Sanemi’s hands eased your skirts back down over your legs. Once your nether region was covered, he helped you sit up, allowing you to cling to him for warmth as he refastened your stays and helped you lace your corset back up the front.

Gingerly, Sanemi brushed your hair back from the shoulder bearing his claim on you. You followed his line of sight, twisting slightly and saw what he did: the crescent-shaped mark, which had burned a violent lavender only minutes prior, had faded back to a pale silver, its ache apparently soothed for the time being.

Sanemi leaned forward and brushed his lips against your mark, his tongue flicking out to caress it as you felt that warmth flood your veins once more. With a moan, you tilted your head, exposing more of your neck again to him, begging him to repeat the action again and again, but Sanemi only drew back.

“Apologies, Lamb,” his eyes were dark once more, and his hands fidgeted at his sides. “Seeing that mark pulls at something within me.”

You allowed your hair to fall back over the crescent bite mark and in an instant, Sanemi’s eyes lightened and a sheepish grin spread across his face. “Wolves are territorial. Seeing your mark makes me want to claim you, even without regard to the danger surrounding us.”

You frowned for a moment. “Are you only drawn to me because you’ve marked me?”

Sanemi’s gaze softened. “I am drawn to you, you vexatious woman, because I find you brave, kind, and at times, even a little charming.”

His hand lifted to caress your cheek, tilting your head down to meet his for a gentle kiss. “The mark is only a physical manifestation of what I already feel towards you. It is simply a way to display our bond to the world.”

Sanemi’s face turned grave and the way he said your name was serious. “You do not have to accept the bond if you’ve changed your mind.”

You shook your head hurriedly. “I want the bond — I want you,” the sincerity of your words resonated with Sanemi, as he pulled your hand to his lips, pressing soft kisses against your fingers. “This is all new to me; I just wanted to know you were sure.”

Sanemi’s soft laugh made your heart thrum, and a blush spread across your cheeks. “I am certain, Lamb, that I would not want anyone else to cause me stress apart from you.”

With a quick peck against your lips, Sanemi rose, stretching his arms high above his head. The moonlight, coupled with the residual flames of the small campfire allowed you to rake your eyes over his lithe form, appreciating every scar and swell of muscle dotting his mouthwatering physique.

But your eyes snagged on a dark stain that had spread across the front of Sanemi’s breeches. “What —?”

Sanemi did not look embarrassed, but he did turn away from you nonetheless. “I told you, Lamb,” he said causually as he dug through the satchel, pulling out a spare pair of pants. “The mark affects me far more than it affects you; at least, for now.”

“That is because of me?” Your eyes trailed his form in wonder, and the sight of the stain made your thighs clench together though you knew not why. “Is that — is that your pleasure?”

Sanemi’s lopsided grin widened, a faint snicker on his lips as he regarded you once more, spread out atop his own traveling cloak. “Yes, Lamb. It is my pleasure.”

You looked up at him, head slightly cocked in question. “But I did nothing to you — not like you did to me.”

Sanemi removed his soiled breeches and re-dressed before returning to your side. “You did not need to; as I said, the mark affects me more than you right now. My body knows I have marked you as my mate, and it is eager to make you mine.”

You shivered at the possessiveness in the words and sat up as he leaned against the small boulder, reaching up over his shoulders to tug his tunic up over his head.

“So it was only the mark?” You asked slowly, eyes dropping down to where you knew his manhood lay under his clothing. “The mark brought you pleasure?”

Warm fingers gripped gently under your chin, forcing you to look back up and meet his piercing stare.

“No, sweetling,” Sanemi said, a low growl tinting his words. “It was not merely the mark. I took pleasure from giving you pleasure.” His thumb stroked the underside of your jaw. “A great deal of it, it seems.”

You shifted until you were on your knees before him, and even the dark of the night could not conceal the way Sanemi’s eyes darkened at the sight.

“Shall I give it back to you, my Wolf?” You whispered, leaning forward to graze your lips against the crotch of his breeches. “I should like to taste you as well.”

To your surprise, neither growl nor groan rumbled from the depths of Sanemi’s chest as you poked your tongue out between your lips and gently dragged it up the seam of his pants, just as he’d done to you. Instead, what fell from Sanemi’s lips was a low, breathy whine, the wolf’s head tipping back slightly as his eyes squeezed shut.

Below the barrier of his clothing, something between his legs began to stir. Curious, you brought your hand against it, palming him slightly through the material.

“Fuck,” Sanemi hissed, and the hand around your jaw tightened, forcing you to rise to your feet.

Sanemi cracked an eye open to glare at you, but he melted at your answering pout, his thumb running over the bottom lip you’d jutted out.

“I promise you, Lamb,” he said gruffly. “I will give you plenty of my pleasure once the full moon rises; so much so, you will not know what to do with it.”

Your curiosity disrupted your self-pity. “From your knot?”

“Aye,” Sanemi confirmed, his voice like gravel. “Speaking of which,” Sanemi then tapped your rear, eliciting a small yelp from you as you separated from him.

“If you’re truly committed to taking my knot, you will need your rest, you tempestuous woman,” Sanemi scolded, and before you could protest, he bent low, wrapping his formidable hands around the backs of your thighs and hoisted you up, forcing you to lock your legs around his waist with a small gasp.

Gently, Sanemi laid you out atop his traveling cloak, bracing himself on one steely arm next to your head as he lowered himself down, allowing one quick press of his lips against yours before he pulled away, stretching out on his side.

“We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow, and an even longer night.” There was a wicked gleam in his eyes that made you rub your thighs together, even as you scowled at him.

“I don’t suppose you will give me another taste of what to expect,” you sighed, resigned as Sanemi moved his head so that he could lazily dance his lips down the side of your neck.

“I’m afraid not,” his answering smirk was smug as you began to squirm beneath the hand idly fondling your breast. “But I shall make the wait worth your while.”

Your breath lodged in your throat as Sanemi leaned in close, his breath tickling your ear. “When we get to my den,” he promised, tone mischievous, yet you knew he meant every word that followed. “I am going to fucking devour you, little Lamb.”

Devour he will. Part II is fucking filthy. Stay tuned if you want to see her take his knot (again and again).

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

boo! surprise bitches! i'm doing kinktober this year! finally doing it! bet you didn't see that one coming, did you hehe 🕸

there is a good mix of both short and long stories coming your way throughout this (and i will also still occasionally post other fics this month that aren't related to this). also, a handful of these fics are darker in nature, thought it was fitting for halloween, so remember to read the warnings, if there's something that's not for you then please, as always, be kind to yourself and don't read the story.

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day one | sore

stepbro!sirius black x cheerleader!reader + dubcon massage

day two | don't smile

steve rogers + throat fucking + size kink

day three | stuffed

devil!eddie munson & angel!steve harrington + tentecles + double penetration in one hole

day four | a little fashion show

best friend!stiles stilinski + lingerie

day five | stay still

peter parker + bondage

day six | hold up, let me record this

jj maybank + tittyfucking + sextape

day seven | the palace guards

guards!poly!marauders x princess!reader + secrets relationship

day eight | it’s practically like we’re down there with them

mob boss!bucky barnes + exhibitionism

day nine | keep that pretty mouth shut

tommy shelby + keep quiet quickie

day ten | I couldn’t find it in me to wake you

poe dameron + somno thigh fucking

day eleven | I just want you a little longer all to myself

matt murdock + secret office sex

day twelve | nothing more than a toy

rafe cameron + using you like a toy to masturbate with

day thirteen | I still got a few rounds left in me

boxer!steve rogers + bathtub sex

day fourteen | open your fucking mouth

dark!wild west cowboy!joel miller + gun kink

day fifteen | tiny

miguel o'hara x fairy!reader + extreme size difference

day sixteen | the wall between us

cult member!steve harrington + fem glory hole + breeding

day seventeen | be a rebel, be bad, stay here and cuddle with me

spencer reid + aftercare

day eighteen | pleasant pile of pillows

brother's best friend!james potter + pillow humping

day nineteen | ring ring

sam winchester x reader x bf!dean winchester + phone sex + cheating

day twenty | window

perv!neighbour!billy russo + voyeurism

day twenty-one | say yes

fiancé!bruce wayne + possessiveness

day twenty-two | i can think of something better than that

bucky barnes + anal

day twenty-three | double check

dark!professor!ben solo + power imbalance + manipulation

day twenty-four | maroon

vampire!remus lupin + biting + blood kink

day twenty-five | i want you

pirate captain!miguel o'hara + sex as payment

day twenty-six | teamwork

pro football team!avengers (bf!steve rogers, bucky barnes, pietro maximoff, clint barton, sam wilson, tony stark, thor odinson) + gangbang

day twenty-seven | my little flower

din djarin + fantasy au + cockwarming

day twenty-eight | hysteria

doctor!aleksander morozova x hysteria patient!reader + historical au + fuck machine

day twenty-nine | can't fight the moonlight

werewolf!bucky barnes x gf!reader + predator/prey + monsterfucking

day thirty | magical mimic

eddie munson x witch!reader + magical mutual masturbation

day thirty-one | you can’t put it in

stepbro!peter parker + halloween pussyjob

© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[beneathashadytree]

We need double fish dick sizes /j

And you shall get them nonnie!! I hadn’t thought of them before, but when you sent in this ask I sat down and brainstormed for a hot minute, so here come the headcanons I have about Rafayel’s Lemurian form‼️ NSFW ahead, obviously, monsterfucking tropes (literally nothing is realistic here), and reader is gender-neutral!

To anyone else reading this, my requests are still closed!! These are just my ramblings, or old requests I had🫶🏽

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Masterlist

Now, Rafayel’s Lemurian form has an entirely different lower half, obviously, so it does make sense that finer details of his anatomy change too

I would say that he has two… appendages, not cocks per se, and I’ll explain this in a minute

What does resemble a human cock, is really nothing short of absolutely pleasurably torturous, and would be quite literally physically impossible for a normal human to take

10 inches in length, and that’s just me trying to censor things a little… so yes, no one can take him to the hilt (let’s be —ironically—realistic, people)

Girth is pretty complicated, and here’s why:

He’s got a really wide, flared base, but it’s rather thin there, and then he grows narrow in width until his tip

After the flared base, he’s actually got a rounder circumference, so while the base feels more of a stretch, his actual length is what makes them feel so full once he’s buried inside them

Rafayel’s cock has a delicious upward curve near his tip, and it’s made all the better by the slightly angular curves to the mushroom-head

Bonus points for the thick vein that runs along the underside! It’s almost ridge-like, and pairs perfectly with the slight ridges along the sides

I’m a firm believer in the fact that everything related to Rafayel is insanely pretty, so yes, even his Lemurian cock is bathed in gorgeous shades of deep purple, lavender, and a sweet bubblegum pink that flushes a deeper fuschia when he’s past his breaking point of arousal

Now that we’ve gotten his Lemurian cock out of the way, let’s talk about his second—but no less pleasurable—“member” so to speak

I imagine that he hides both under a well-hidden flap along his tail’s midline, right where his human crotch would be, so once that’s pulled back and his cock coaxed into full hardness, you can find his second tentacle-like cock underneath it

It’s thin, even more so than his human cock, is roughly 12 inches long (not very practical, but nothing about his devastatingly beautiful Lemurian form is) and a lot more flexible than you would think—which is good for its two uses

The first is prepping his beloved to take him, which is definitely no easy feat for anyone

He produces a lot of water-resistant slick there, which can help lubricate them easily in order to make the slide more comfortable for them, but it has the side effect of acting almost as an aphrodisiac, which (if in someone whose body can’t take that) may lead to it being too draining to keep up with him and their combined insanely high libidos at the moment

The second—which ties to the first—is that it makes it easier to curl inside his lover and reach their most pleasurable sweet spot, causing them to naturally gush around him and pull orgasm after orgasm before he could even attempt to slip inside their warmth

Again, Rafayel’s Lemurian form is dictated by his biology more often than not, so it’s no surprise that his cum is thicker (to avoid being washed away) and comes out in copious amounts, all for breeding purposes

The Lemurian race was dying out long before they were threatened by external factors and such, so procreation was a very important part of their mating rituals

You can toss that aside though, because it’s purely biological and will only be determined by whether or not his partner can and/or would want something like that; for Rafayel now it’s simply an instinct to be closer and rut deeper into them, so much so that they can’t tell where he ends and they begin

His cum looks quite pearlescent and actually pretty breathtaking, oddly enough; I truly believe it glimmers a little, especially if you look at it under the moonlight and catch the almost gem-like shimmers in its stickiness

Fair warning, it’s quite salty in terms of taste (though not hazardous in composition; he’s all about safety first you know!) and may be a little too much the first time his lover tries to swallow his release down

But that’s nothing a few kitten licks at his pulsating tip won’t acclimate them to, even if it does earn a strangled, breathy moan from him and him shooting his second load of the night on their tongue 🫶🏽

All in all, having sex or even just foreplay with Rafayel’s Lemurian form is overwhelming in the best ways possible—and definitely not for the faint-hearted!!

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[starsofang]

in which ghost is a ghost.

tw: nsfw, mdni, fingering, p in v, monsterfucking if u squint?? kind of and also yes

there was a ghost haunting your house.

all your friends called you crazy. they blamed it on your recent breakup, telling you that you weren’t used to living alone, that moving into a new house took getting used to. you didn’t agree.

there was no doubt in your mind that a ghost haunted your new home.

it showed in the way the floorboards creaked when nobody was there to step on them. or the icy draft that lingered in the hallways, sending chilled shivers down your spine. or the shadows that played tricks on you in the dark when you’d wake in the night to use the restroom or grab a glass of water.

you knew it wasn’t a figment of your imagination. the only explanation was a ghost. you just didn’t have solid proof.

things began to shift to something more strange the longer you lived in the house.

at night, you could feel prying eyes staring back at you from the depth of the shadows, yet when you’d look around, nothing would be there. or sometimes, the achingly familiar feeling of a fingertips caressing the skin of your ankle would coax goosebumps to rise on your skin.

whatever ghost resided in your home was increasingly growing more comfortable as time passed with you invading their space. they teetered on an edge, making careful calculations of their subtle touches as not to scare you away, while keeping you hooked with curiosity. really, you should’ve been scared, and you should’ve ran away.

that was precisely what went through your head when the touch of their hand would venture. beginning at your ankle and inching up and up every night that passed. it was a game between the two of you. they tested your limits while you threatened to further them.

it was dangerous, really. messing with a ghost who you had no clue if they were evil or not. demonic, even. none of that seemed to cross your mind when the touches soothed the agonizing ache of loneliness that squeezed your heart every waking day.

your curiosity was growing, though. you yearned to learn about the ghost who was tormenting the comfort of your home, to learn who kept you up at night with a racing heart and a lump in your throat. there was no harm in asking, right?

he didn’t speak much when you did. he told you his name was ghost, but that he remembered being called simon. how fitting ghost was, but how humanizing simon could be.

he remained a shadow when he appeared to you, masking his identity, one that you were unsure if it was a personal choice or he was stuck like that. regardless of it, you shouldn’t have grown attraction to it.

of course, you did. who could blame you? you had learned the name of the ghost who had been haunting you for months, touching you, teasing you. it was hopeless. there was nothing to fight, nor did you really want to.

it was the exact reason on why you ended up with your legs spread, the chill of the room and ghost sweeping over your skin as if being dunked in ice water. a ghastly hand was pumping its way inside of you, fingers curling into that spongy spot you can’t quite reach with your own, wrenching gravelly moans from you that filled the air with song.

it became a nightly routine of yours. ghost fucking you with his fingers, freezing to the touch, pulling orgasm after orgasm out of you until you were a weeping mess on the bed, riddled with blissful exhaustion.

then, his fingers became his cock. it was strange, fucking a shadowy ghost that had muddied features you couldn’t make out. you didn’t know what he truly looked like, but you imagined he was as rugged as his voice in the most handsome way.

his cock was much more intoxicating than his fingers. he fucked you with a goal in mind, and that was to take and take from you until your energy had transferred to him. he was sucking away bits of your soul with every long night of coming with him buried inside of you, making up for it with ghostly kisses on your skin once you were burnt out.

things were evolving into dangerous territory. having sex was already dangerous, but now, he was becoming possessive.

if you had a guest who was a male, he’d cause a poltergeist like a pouty child. throwing books off the shelves, knocking over glasses and shattering them on the floor, whispering taunting threats in the ears of your guest. his aim was to have them running out the door and never come back, and it always worked.

what did you think this was? you let him claim you. ghost or not, you were his, and you’d be confined to this house just as much as he was.

[witchy-scribblings]

hibino kafka? more like hubbyno kafka (mdni)

❀ kafka who loves kissing you more than anything, and will have his lips on you at any possible time. this clown here loves to press the wettest smooch on your cheek just as much as he loves kissing you softly while you rock to the sound of the news in the background.

❀ kafka who's always texting you. his name will constantly be popping up on your phone, be it to wish you a good day at work, to complain about some inconvenience at his job, or to remind you that he loves you for the seventh time that morning.

❀ kafka who had always been okay with his bachelor apartment looking like a wreck, but since he started dating you no dishes pile up in the sink, the trash is taken out, and the cleaning is kept up with.

❀ kafka who immediately started getting extra toothbrushes, towels and other supplies the moment your relationship started looking serious, in hopes that it would incite you to come over more often.

❀ kafka who thanks his lucky stars every time he gets to wake up next to you because holy shit how did a loser like him pull a beauty like you? (it's fine we love losers 'round here)

❀ kafka who can never get enough of slow mornings with you. he often has you staying over at his place, and his bathroom is too small to let you brush your teeth side by side, so he gets the next best thing: you straddling his hips while you sit on the counter, peacefully getting ready for the day.

❀ kafka who gets a little insecure sometimes, especially before becoming an officer. he doesn't need constant reassurance, but there are days when he can't help staring at the mirror a little longer, a little harsher.

❀ kafka who falls harder still when you assure him that his dad body is extremely sexy, and that you love that he's so big and warm he's literally perfect to cuddle with.

❀ kafka who feels so much better when he sees how happy wearing his huge baggy clothes makes you. he has had to give up too many hoodies to count at this point, not that he's complaining.

❀ on that note, kafka who loves it when you're wearing one of his oversized shirts and nothing else - well, except perhaps a pair or wooly thigh-high socks during the colder months. After all, the central heating in his apartment is pretty bad, so you have to work with what you have.

❀ kafka who presses down on your covered hamstrings to keep you folded nearly in half while his fat cock plunges in and out of your soaking wet pussy; he's obsessed with the unrestricted sight of the filthy mess he's making out of your swollen cunt.

❀ kafka who sometimes absently wonders if you would be okay with him shapeshifting to fuck you better. he knows that kaiju no. 8 looks scary as shit and that he still has a hard time controlling the extra strength, but some twisted part of him wants to see how much further he could push you (little does he know his fans are monsterfuckers)

❀ kafka who ultimately is a pretty vanilla lover who just lives for those moments late at night when he has you sitting back against his soft chest with your legs spread embarrassingly wide while his thick fingers play you like a goddamn fiddle.

❀ kafka who, yes, is 100% a giver in every aspect of your relationship. but boy does he turn into a whore whenever you pay some well-deserved attention to him. he'll take anything you're willing to offer, but worship his body and his cock with your hands and tongue and he's done for.

❀ kafka who is not shy per se, but he gets really horny really fast if you start dirty talking to him. it might take a little bit of confidence for him to reciprocate, but once he warms up he's pulling out all the "yes, baby, want your mouth on me so bad", or the "i'm not gonna stop until you make a fucking mess on my sheets, got it?"

❀ kafka who used to dread laundry day, but will now happily change his sheets everyday if it means he got to fuck you good the night before.

brother i’m so down bad for this himbo he’s making me have unholy thoughts on finals week

[devildom-moss]

January poll story

NSFW - Barbatos x MC - Nightbringer AU + monsterfucker + breeding + ovipositor kink

(Barbatos x gn!MC)

(NSFW) (plot heavy) (dom!top!Barbatos / bottom!sub!MC) (monsterfucker; breeding; ovipos/eggs; slight degredation and humiliation; but mostly praise; oral - receiving; penetration - receiving; two dicks; aphrodisiac-like effects; overstimulation; slight dacryphillia/tears; slight dubcon at the beginning; cheating adjacent?; mentions of aftercare) (no body specification for MC, and yes I made it work so he can breed any body) (Barbatos as Nightbringer + AU) (kinda fucked up plot)

Word Count: +5,000 (new longest single character fic. Sorry? Why does this happen when I write monster Barbs)

A bittersweet pang struck your chest when you received an invitation to the Demon Lord’s castle directly from Barbatos. Even the way he had phrased the invite was reminiscent of future Barbatos – the demon who adored you. When you were sent back to the past, your relationship began anew, and you were forced to face him while craving the loving affection you had worked so hard to earn. Deep in the pit of your stomach, a nagging guilt bit at you every time you were around this past Barbatos, wishing for an unbecomingly familiar show of affection. You knew you would return to the future someday, and you were certain you wouldn’t be able to make him fall in love with you before you left. Was it so awful to want him to pull you into a quiet hall and kiss you to breathlessness before returning to his duties? Were you really as monstrous as your guilt believed for wishing this version of Barbatos would need you so desperately that he milked every second he could spare just to sate his desire for you?

All the lust and love that you had quelled came back, overflowing, when your D.D.D. buzzed last night while you were preparing dinner. Solomon had been so kind as to leave the kitchen and allow you to cook in peace. Barbatos’s name, accompanied affectionately – and delusionally – by a green heart, appeared on the screen.

Barbatos: Good evening, MC. I was wondering if you would do me the honor of visiting the castle tomorrow. The Young Master is set to attend an overnight party hosted by the House of Lords. I was not permitted to accompany him this time. He’ll be gone for nearly three days with the travel. It’s been ages since I’ve been apart from him for so long. The thought of it makes me anxious. Your presence seems to put me at ease. As such, I would appreciate your company if you could spare some time for me. I eagerly await your response.

Your heart swelled as you stared down at your phone. He wanted to see you. It almost sounded romantic. Your gushing was interrupted by the hiss of evaporating liquid; your pot boiled over.

“Shit!” You shoved your phone into your pocket and rushed to the stove. Everything was fine, but you sighed at the mess you were going to have to clean – and you couldn’t do that until you changed burners and allowed the dirty one to cool.

It wasn’t until you had finished cooking and went to message Solomon that dinner was ready, unlocking your D.D.D. only to see your chat with Barbatos, that you remembered: you never replied! Solomon could wait the one minute it took for you to respond to Barbatos.

MC: Sorry! I had some kitchen trouble, but it’s fine now. I would love to see you.

Barbatos: Excellent. I will see the Young Master off at 7am. You are welcome to come by any time after that. I look forward to it.

You arrived at the castle that afternoon, anxiously wondering how you would interact with Barbatos. You hadn’t spent much time alone with him, and you weren’t as close as you were in the future. Maybe this version of Barbatos was slightly different than the one you knew, and you wouldn’t mind getting to know him better, but to him, you were practically a stranger. Every intimate detail you had shared was resting in his mind, millennia from now. Still, you wanted to be around him, so you were determined to find some way to enjoy your day. Maybe you could bake together like old – well, future – times.

“Good afternoon. I’m so pleased you could make it,” Barbatos greeted you at the door with a grin, stepping aside to let you in. “I apologize for the late notice. I didn’t interrupt any plans, did I?”

“Not at all. My day was clear – and even if it wasn’t I –” you stopped yourself short. You wanted to tell him that you would have cleared it just for him, but that seemed far too intimate for your current relationship.

“If it wasn’t?” Barbatos urged you to continue.

“I –” you tried again, “It isn’t often that I get invited to the castle. I would have made the time.”

“How kind of you.” Barbatos chuckled, covering his smile in that shy manner you had come to adore. “Would you be so kind as to follow me as I finish up my rounds? I’d like to ensure everything is in order before I can devote my full attention to you.”

His words made your heart race, reviving some long-deceased hope that he would fall for you in this timeline. Perhaps the future had a much stronger impact on the past than you expected it to. Your face felt warm as you nodded.

Barbatos walked along side you at a leisurely pace, only taking a step ahead to guide you in one direction or the other and to open doors for you. He maintained polite chatter, mostly asking about your week. You hadn’t been walking very long before you realized you were heading deeper into the castle – namely towards the labyrinth. Even in the future, you rarely went near it, so as you got closer, the castle looked increasingly unfamiliar. You wondered if the rumors about the torture chamber below the castle had formed already or if those claims would come later. It felt eerie to head towards them now, but you figured it was part of Barbatos’s duty to check them during his rounds.

You continued through dark, stony halls – lit only by the dim candlelight from the sconces lining the walls. It seemed that the flames gradually appeared as you walked ahead. Had you bothered to look back, you would have also seen them fade behind you, leaving the dim corridor in pitch-black darkness. The creepy atmosphere was getting to you, and you inched closer to Barbatos. His smile widened slightly, but he didn’t comment.

“Do you go down here every day?” you asked him nervously.

“No, not usually, but I haven’t checked the labyrinth in a while. It’s necessary to monitor the candle levels and keep an eye out for leaks or potential . . . pests. I figured now was as good of a time as any. It can be a boring walk by myself.”

A large iron door stood at the end of the hall – one which seemed to require magic from Barbatos before it would open. He ushered you into a room, lined with iron-barred cells. As he shut the door behind him, you scanned your surroundings. There were no other visible doors – no clear point of exit. You turned back to look at Barbatos, confused.

“Why did you close the door?”

Before you could get an answer, Barbatos pushed you against the cool stone wall, holding you still from behind. One gloved hand grabbed your wrist while the other snaked up your neck seductively. The sensation reminded you of when Barbatos would get desperate for your body – how his greed would take over until his hands were wandering over you like some horrifying colonial effort, ready to claim you no matter the cost. Had you not loved him, or he not loved you, that greed might have terrified you.

“I know why you’re here,” Barbatos whispered in your ear.

You were confused and suddenly afraid. The realization hit you again: this was not your Barbatos. He might be suspicious of you, and that made him dangerous. Although you had seemingly gotten along well with him so far, especially during the preparations for RAD’s opening, there was a chance that he harbored doubts about your presence in the Devildom. This version of Barbatos could kill you.

“Please,” you whispered, afraid – although you weren’t certain what you were asking of him. He shifted into his demon form, still holding you firm in his hands. His breath burned on your neck. Your fear eased as you felt his tail slither up one of your legs and caress between them, leaving a slick trail over your clothes, but the confusion remained.

Did he want you? If so, he was so much harder to charm in the future. Was this what you had been hoping for? He was rougher than the Barbatos you knew – that much was evident in the tight grip he had around your wrist.

“We’ve met in the future, darling. And from what I’ve deduced, you’re so important to me that you could make me want for more,” Barbatos spoke, letting the words tingle on your skin. You shivered and turned your head slightly to meet his gaze. His hand slid away from your neck, and he bit his glove, tugging it off before discarding it on the cobblestone floor. That warm, bare hand slipped under your shirt, feeling your heart pound in your chest as his tail continued to tease you through your clothes. With a chuckle, Barbatos licked up your neck, flicking your earlobe with his tongue before pulling away. It felt hotter than usual, and your skin burned where his saliva began to dry. You moaned, earning a satisfied hum from Barbatos. “It feels good, doesn’t it? He gave us a century before my decision – how generous. It seems I learned to calm my urges a good deal over the years, but he forgets himself – myself,that is. I’m not the patient man you know. I don’t need a century to decide to claim you.”

“I don’t understand,” you spoke through gritted teeth, trying to hold back your moans. Nothing he said made sense, and it took every bit of restraint to focus on him instead of the pleasure he inflicted upon you.

“About a century from now, I secretly cemented my commitment to Lord Diavolo. I made it so nothing in the world could take my attention from my master. It seems that you, my dear, have convinced me that was a misstep. You see, a century after the brothers fell, I learned a spell that could permanently sterilize anyone – even a being as powerful as myself,” Barbatos explained, still unnecessarily close to your ear. “I wanted my service to Diavolo to guide the rest of my life, but then I met you. The Barbatos you know couldn’t let that stand. He wants to make you his in every way possible.”

“Wh-what are you saying?” Your words gave way to another moan as you tried to unravel the information through a haze of lust. All you could understand was that Barbatos – the one you knew – loved you more than he anticipated, and that was, somehow, related to why this version of him was touching you, rubbing your thighs and between your legs with the perfect pressure.

“Nightbringer offered you ‘the path to happiness . . . a place that will bring you more joy than any other.’” The words sent a chill up your spine. How did he know the exact words Nightbringer had told you? Barbatos slid his hand down to your stomach and pulled you flush against his body until you could feel him, hard and pressing into you. Somehow his touch – which should have distressed you – put you at ease. The familiarity of his body was a comfort in the confounding fear. Barbatos kissed your neck so tenderly that tears welled in your eyes. “Your happiness is his, my dear.”

“Barbatos, please,” you begged sweetly – almost whimpering for him. This time you were certain: you were begging for his touch. As long as he kept touching you like this – the way your Barbatos might, you could handle whatever he was trying to tell you.

“You can call me by my other name: Nightbringer. I – the version of me you know – sent you here to push you towards a blissful life with him, where he has given you every part of himself. In other words, darling,” Barbatos brought his lips up to your ear, “I brought you here to breed you.”

Barbatos licked up your neck again. Every touch filled you with dizzying ecstasy. There was a familiarity in the way his lips and tongue teased you, how his fingertips grazed your skin, and the way his tail toyed with you; but you had never felt this good before. Something like guilt joined your pleasure to push fresh tears to the corners of your eyes. This was Barbatos – in another epoch; he was yours in a way, and somehow still not the demon you had fallen in love with. It seemed wrong that a version of him who had yet to fall for you would make you feel so much better than the one you knew – not that you had ever found sex with Barbatos lacking, but he felt like another demon entirely. You didn’t understand why you felt this way. Could your weeks of unresolved desire have made you this sensitive to his every touch? Your legs were already trembling.

As if he had read your mind, Barbatos added with a chuckle, “And as for why your body reacts so well for me: without the sterilization spell, my pheromones haven’t been slowly dulled over millennia.”

“You mean. . .” you wanted to finish your thought or at least sigh in relief, but all you could do was gasp and moan as his tail squeezed your thigh.

“I mean that my body can bring you more pleasure now than you have ever had. Poor MC, you had the misfortune of meeting me too late. But in this time, something as simple as a bit of my saliva can make you shake and whine like some desperate slut.” Barbatos relished the way you clenched your jaw and shut your eyes. You looked humiliated yet so aroused that the embarrassment almost didn’t matter. He snaked his hand back up your chest and neck. With a single, forceful finger, he tilted your jaw until you faced him and captured your lips in a ravenous kiss. His tongue teased you, leaving you breathless and panting. Your head spun and your mind went blank. When he finally pulled back, you followed his movements with a needy whimper. You wanted more. He smirked. “There. As cute as you look when you’re embarrassed, I’d much rather see that need burning in your eyes. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. He wanted this for you.”

There was a protest somewhere, drowning and gasping for air in your mind. This Barbatos had never seen you unravel at the edge of orgasm. He had never seen you blissed out. Hell. He had never even seen you in your underwear before. It was like having your first time with him all over again. You had every right to be embarrassed – especially when you were already in love with Barbatos. This version hardly knew you. You were at the mercy of a demon whose desire could never match yours; it was mortifying.

“And, my dear, if it’s any consolation,” he added, “my pheromones would have no effect if you were not such an arousing little human. I want this, too.”

Barbatos turned you around, pushing your back to the wall, and kneeled before you. His eyes were dark, and you couldn’t help but notice the pale pink blush on his cheeks as he pulled your clothes down and exposed you. He wrapped his tail around one of your ankles and pulled your leg over his shoulder.

“May I?” he asked with an obscene politeness, as if your chest wasn’t heaving and you weren’t a mess for him.

Your face burned as you nodded, too ashamed to speak the words – and too aroused to hold back your lecherous noises had you opened your mouth. With your permission, he brought his mouth to your entrance, licking you hungrily. His bare hand rubbed you gently – adding to the stimulation one slow stroke at a time – while his other hand dug into the flesh of your outer thigh. With a low growl, Barbatos plunged his tongue inside of you. He sounded so sexy. Everything burned, and all you could think to do was cover your mouth to dam the flood of moans as you came at the mercy of his tongue and hands.

Barbatos gave you a soft lick before pulling back and staring up at you. He was panting and flushed, and his eyes had a familiar amorous glint. “You’re reacting so cutely. I’ll admit, I was drawn to you before, but if you keep showing me those lewd faces, I’ll never want to let you go.”

His words warmed your pounding heart. Perhaps it was wrong, but if you could have found the strength to speak, you would have begged him not to let you go. Of course, you knew, that was your lust-drunk mind speaking, but you would have said it, nonetheless.

Barbatos let your leg go and reached up to take your arm, tugging you down and cushioning your fall as you straddled him. He shifted so that you were sitting in his lap. Your flustered face brought a grin to his lips and sent a wicked shiver up his spine.

“Take my shirt off,” he instructed. You stared at him, further embarrassed by the realization that you were the only one completely exposed. Barbatos waited for your compliance, but with an untrained patience, he sighed. “If you want me to fuck you, do it.”

Your fingers moved quickly to unbutton his collar, trembling and fumbling with the top button. Each button of his shirt and coat got easier. You could feel his heartbeat pounding through his clothes – and even more frustrating, you could feel him throbbing in his pants right between your legs.

“So good,” he praised you sweetly, staring at you with half-lidded eyes, once his clothes fell to the floor. “Pants now, darling.”

You went to unbutton his pants, grazing the bulge with your fingertips. Barbatos growled and rolled his hips up into you, making you whine.

“Careful,” he warned you playfully, tapping his fingers up your thigh to squeeze your ass. You bit your lip and tried to refocus your attention on the task at hand – or rather, under your hand. When you finally got his pants and underwear down, you ogled at a sight you had never seen before. Barbatos chuckled mischievously. “Oh dear, from the look on your face, it seems I forgot to mention something. That’s another side effect of the sterilization spell. His never comes out. Such a shame.”

You were speechless, staring at his two dicks beneath you. You had never seen the second, longer, thicker cock below the other. It was less human, too, and had the same shimmering glean – with the same teal lightning veins running along it – as his tail. Your mouth felt dry. Your lower lip was trembling.

“You seem to like what you see. No wonder I fell so hard for you,” Barbatos teased. He pulled you closer, guiding your body until he had aligned his first cock up with your hole. You felt him rub against you, smearing his precum on you. It sent a jolt of pleasure into you that spread out every which way through your body. Barbatos leaned in, sucking at the base of your neck, and riling you up even more. Your moans filled the room. This was agony – a beautiful, enticing torture. Content with his mark on your neck and your response, he pulled back just enough to whisper in your ear. “Now sit.”

Your legs shook as you lowered yourself on his first cock, feeling the second one rubbing against the curve of your ass. It felt so good that you were eager to take him all the way. Without him even asking, you started bouncing on his cock in slow, deep thrusts, savoring the way he filled you up. If your body had the strength, you would have been quicker. It wasn’t long before the pleasure was too much for you. You clung to his shoulders and tilted your head back in ecstasy.

“Barbatos,” you moaned his name as you came. Your legs gave out beneath you, and you fell flush against his lap, pushing him deep inside of you.

Barbatos clicked his tongue, “I suppose that was cruel of me to expect you to do all the work. Please allow me to help you.”

Wrapping his tail around your waist, Barbatos rolled you onto your back gently so that he was leaning over you. He pushed your legs up towards your chest as he bent down to kiss you. There was a sentimental sweetness to it that clouded your head further. Barbatos began to slowly rock his hips in and out of you. Every thrust had you whining against his lips. Even Barbatos found it difficult to hold in his voice, moaning into your mouth. He picked up his pace.

Suddenly, his tail’s grip around your waist tightened, and Barbatos began to move your body for you like you were his personal toy. You felt too good to be ashamed by it anymore as your moans mixed with the harsh slapping of skin. He twitched inside of you and broke the kiss to stare at you. The sight of your writhing beneath him pushed Barbatos over the edge. He pulled you against his hips with one final slap before he filled you with cum.

It drove you mad; his cum felt like an aphrodisiac pumped directly into you, leaving you trembling and whining. Barbatos gave you a soft, tender smile as he pulled out. His cum began to leak out of you, but Barbatos used his tail to lift your hips higher so he could lick it up, allowing it to pool on his tongue. He pulled you close enough to kiss you and slip his cum-coated tongue into your mouth; it was a shame to waste it, after all. You swallowed, feeling the warmth flush your face and spread through your body. Desperation flooded the pit of your stomach – aching for a break and for more simultaneously.

Barbatos admired the look on your face. He had never seen you lose control like this before. To say he was enamored would have been an understatement. Cool fingertips slid down from the base of your neck to just above your navel – as if he was trying to feel the way your body tensed with the threat of another orgasm. You moaned and begged through ragged panting, “Please, Barbatos. I can’t. I can’t take anymore.”

“Oh?” Barbatos asked, amused. He used his tail to flip you over so that your chest was pressed against the stone floor. His tail loosened its grip around your waist, only to take hold of your hips and raise your ass higher. Barbatos laughed with a darkness that struck you with fear, especially when he bent over to lick behind your ear. He could feel you shiver against his chest, which only excited him further. He cooed, “But we’re not done yet, darling. That was just preparation, I’m afraid. I told you I was going to breed you, didn’t I? Have you forgotten? I’m part serpent; I still need to fill you with my eggs. I need you to be good and take a bit more for me.”

“Eggs?” The word caught your ear. Did everything with him have to be so new?

“Yes, you heard me.” Barbatos curled his tail around your thigh and pulled your legs farther apart. He rubbed you sweetly while he continued to explain, “You see, not only does my sperm fill you with ecstasy, but it also prepares your body so that my eggs can absorb your DNA through their membranes. It’ll take parts from both of us – we’ll make a hybrid.”

Even through your exhausted, cum-drunk fog, you tried to break down his words. You could really have a baby with him? The thought had never seriously crossed your mind – you had always assumed it wasn’t possible. You’d never heard of a hybrid before. Something about the thought of having children with Barbatos frightened and thrilled you all at once.

“You’ve been so good for me, so I’ll do all the work. You just have to lay there and take it, alright, darling?” Barbatos whispered into your ear as he aligned his second cock with your hole.

His first thrust was slow and tender. You squirmed and stretched your arms out in front of you, grasping for something to anchor you. All you could do was claw at cobblestone as pleasure pushed you to tears. He was so big. It might have hurt if your body wasn’t overcome with a euphoria that numbed every other sensation. He could have clawed your thighs apart and made you bleed, and you were certain you wouldn’t have felt so much as a sting. Barbatos picked up his pace, pushing you over the edge again. You tightened around him, causing him to groan.

“You feel so good,” Barbatos panted and moaned in a ubiquitous tone. You were unravelling him. He throbbed inside of you. With another pleased groan and a few more bucks of his hips, you were filled with a new sensation. As Barbatos pulled out, an egg pumped into you. Your pleasure at the feeling almost sickened you. Why did he have to make you feel so good?

“Barbatos –” Your thoughts were interrupted by a wave of pleasure as Barbatos rubbed his second dick against your entrance again.

“Not yet,” he panted. Barbatos leaned in to capture your lips in a feverish kiss. Slowly, you felt him thrust back inside of you, pushing the egg deeper. It pressed against your walls, clouding your head. When Barbatos broke the kiss, he laughed sweetly – almost innocently in your ear. “Wouldn’t twins be cute, my love?”

“I –” you tried to form the words: you were going to cum again. But Barbatos hushed you affectionately.

“They’re soft-shelled eggs, you can clench as much as you want, and I can pound into you as rough as I want, it’ll be fine. Don’t think. Just cum for me.” You couldn’t tell if you hated him or loved him for being able to read your mind. When it was your Barbatos, you had always loved it – even when he flustered you. You let go and let another wave of pleasure overcome you with a loud moan; you were going to drown in this feeling. Barbatos’s adoring voice broke through your afterglow. “You sound so lovely when I make you cum.”

Barbatos drew noise after noise from your lips as he continued to fuck you. One of his hands slipped between your legs to rub you as he filled you with another egg. He didn’t pull out until he felt you clenching down on him, on the cusp of another orgasm.

“Don’t fight it,” he whispered. Barbatos continued to rub you with his hand and slipped the tip of his tail inside of you, swirling the forked ends.

The faint glow of magic – more specifically, a summoning spell – lit up your dim corner of the room. Barbatos produced a plug. He removed his tail before pushing it inside of you. As he rubbed a gentle circle around the surface of the plug, it glowed, lighting up the palm of his hand in a pale teal color.

“Why?” you forced the ill-formed question out weakly.

Barbatos crawled around your shaking body so he could look at your face. Tears streamed down your cheeks from a mix of pleasure and panic. He brushed a stream of tears away with his thumb. “Don’t be afraid. I needed to magically seal you up until my eggs have had a chance to soak up your essence. They should be fertilized within two days. Then, we can take them out. They can mature in any warm environment after that until they’re ready to hatch. I’ll take good care of them, darling, and I’ll take good care of you, too.”

The tears continued to flow. With his help, you got to your knees. Barbatos took advantage of your position to lean in and kiss you. This kiss was more tender than before, as if it had been filled with all the affection of your beloved Barbatos. His fingertips ran up your arms and shoulders, causing you to shiver. Everything felt new and terrifying; every touch consumed you.

“Relax, my love. I’ll take such good care of you,” Barbatos cooed and kissed your cheek before standing up. He began to gather his clothes and redress himself. It didn’t escape your unfocused attention that he was still hard as he pulled his underwear on. While he got dressed, he asked you, “Now, will you be good and let me carry you up to my room? Or do I have to keep you locked up down here until you’re ready to return to the demon who sent you here? And before you answer, just know, I would much rather run you a bath, wash every inch of that precious body, serve you something delicious to eat, and spend the rest of our time alone serving you in other ways.”

You were afraid to be left alone, still hazy, and weak from pleasure. Desperate for comfort from the demon you loved, you nodded and took Barbatos’s extended hand. He pulled you into his arms and embraced your naked body tightly. His touch still burned and excited you. He whispered into the crook of your neck, “Thank you. He – the future me – requested that I thank you for giving us this gift, but I want to thank you on my behalf as well. I’ll be so good to you. I swear it – and you know I do not take promises lightly.”

“I know,” you whispered. Your arms reached up to hold him back. Even if the Barbatos you adored could be wicked and cruel sometimes – even if all you had in this time was a crude likeness that had bred you, the love coursed through your body. This was alright. You could handle this if it was for him. His happiness was yours.

A/N: I tried really hard on this one, so I hope y'all like it. I still don't know how I feel about it. I've never written ovipos before. Also, would you say it warranted an 8 in the depravity ranking after reading it? Anyway, there will be a new poll for February up in less than an hour (Feb. 1 - 12am PST) That will be up for a week. Have fun. And again, hope this did something for y'all.

[redak-ted]

yeah here flowerpunk incorrect quotes for the soul

Miles: I think I'm falling for you. Hobie: Then get up.

Hobie: I've already sent good vibes your way… they’re coming. There’s nothing you can do to stop them. Miles: This is the most threatening way I’ve ever been cheered up.

Hobie: Welcome, fellow idiots Miles: Hello, Hobie Hobie: No, no, not you, you're not an idiot Miles: You underestimate me

Hobie: What’s up guys? I’m back. Miles: What the- you can’t be here. You’re dead. I literally saw you die. Hobie: Death is a social construct.

Miles, struggling to keep upright in their 1 inch heels: Yeah, I-I don’t really think heels are for me Hobie, pointing at them and walking flawlessly in sparkly golden 6 inch heels: WEAK.

Hobie: Stubs their toe FUCK! Miles: Mind your language! Hobie: What else am I supposed to say, “Woe is I”??? Miles: Hobie: You have to accept that swear words are necessary sometimes, Miles.

Miles: This is such a bad idea. Hobie: Then why are you coming along? Miles: One of us need to be able to talk the cops out of arresting us when this inevitably goes wrong.

Hobie: Change is inedible. Miles: Don't you mean inevitable? Hobie, spitting out coins: No, I did not.

Miles, going over Hobie's resume: Okay, so right here, it states that you're creative. Hobie: Yes Miles: Okay…may I know what you create? Hobie: Problems.

Hobie: What if the 'g' in 'gif' is silent? Miles: Go the fuck to sleep Hobie: What gif I don't want to? Miles: Fuck You.

Hobie: Miles! My face is on fire! Miles: Hobie! Are you ok?! Hobie: Oh yes, I'm fine. I just said that to make sure you'd come in here quickly. Miles: But your face is on fire. Hobie: Yes. It's much faster than shaving.

Hobie: Don't stay up all night, Miles. Last time you got this sleep-deprived, you tried to eat your own shirt.

Hobie: Which is correct, seven and five IS thirteen, or seven and five ARE thirteen? Miles: Neither. Miles: Because it's twelve.

Hobie: Three words. Say them and I'm yours. Miles: Three words. Hobie:

Miles: It’s dark in here Hobie: Don’t worry dude I got this Hobie: *Stomps their feet* Hobie: *Skechers light up*

Hobie: You're the love of my life and my best friend, I would do anything for you. Miles: I want you to eat three meals a day and have a decent sleep schedule. Hobie: Absolutely not.

Hobie: In light of what you did for me, you can hug me for four to five seconds. Miles: FORTY FIVE SECONDS?!? Hobie: No! Four to five seconds! Miles: Too late!!!

Miles: Do you think you’d actually notice if someone didn’t cast a shadow? Or if their limbs were just slightly too long? Or if they had just a little too many teeth? like how many times have you passed something on the street and you just didn’t notice It? Hobie: Stay woke monsterfuckers ur love is out there!!!!! Miles: Yknow what? Not my point at all in any way whatsoever, but I’m glad I could be an inspiration

[vampsquerade]

okay okay, asking for the monsterfuckers here >.>

can we please please PLEASE have some werewolf könig with a female reader that has to help him with his rut? some…some knotting would be cool too…

WEREWOLF KÖNIG???? MONSTERFUCKER???? HAVE I REACHED MY TARGET AUDIENCE WITH A POST OR WHAT HAHA AAAAA- ahem, but yes you may have some werewolf König

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Werewolf!König x Female!Reader: Controllable Urges

Trigger Warnings: NSFW, smut, mating seasons, monsterfucker reader, slight shifts, knotting, multiple positions, werewolf!AU, creampies, biting, scratching (fic under the cut)

Werewolves were something you’d always believed only existed in fairytales and made up stories about feral, nature connected men living in the forests. But after encountering your own boyfriend and finding out his true identity, you fully believe that they’re real. “K…König?” you ask softly when you knock on his door. There’s a soft growl followed by a whine, as if warning you to keep away. But knowing how stubborn you were, you weren’t gonna leave him alone or go away. “Are you okay..? Need me to come in there and comfort you..? Is the shift a bit painful this time around?” you ask from behind the door. “N-No…I don’t need help…do not come inside the room…please…” König growls. Just the way he sounds, all raspy and dangerous, it intrigues you more and more. You only become more worried, leaning against the door a bit more to hear what’s going on.

You can hear him panting heavily, like he’s out of breath after running around for so long. But it also sounds slightly…pained? There’s also the soft and faint sound of something squishing. “Are you…sure you don’t need any help?” I ask. “Stop asking me…hffh..~ s-stupid questions, Maus…it’s dangerous for you to c-come inside my room right now…” König growls softly. Scowling slightly, thinking he might be in some actual form of pain and doesn’t want to be treated and scolded by you, you decide to just open the door. And once you do, your eyes go wider than the moon when you see exactly what your boyfriend’s been doing this whole time. He’s in heat? Or is it a rut? You can’t really remember much about the proper terminology; all you knew was that he was in what would be considered his “mating season.”

But the sight…it’s one to truly see. König’s not completely in his other form; only his forearms and a bit of his back are covered in fur. His signature little wolf ears and tail are sticking out from his head and back, and his claws are sharp against the skin of his own thigh, piercing through and making him bleed as the other grips his throbbing cock. His eyes pierce right into yours as he scowls, growling lowly at you, “I…I thought I warned you…” he seethes. Your eyes soften a bit and you cautiously walk over to him, gently pushing him back into his bed. “What are you doing…?” König whispers breathlessly, letting his back fall onto the cool, silk sheets of his bed, making him wince softly. “Shh…I’m going to help you, okay…?” You whisper softly. Carefully, you then climb over him and sit in his lap. You can feel him burning through his dampened clothes from all the sweat and lean in, kissing him.

König’s eyes go wide and he’s doing all he can to make sure he doesn’t lose control when you sit in his lap and kiss him. He’s kissing you back gently, not trying to get too into it to where he ends up accidentally hurting you. Pulling away for just a moment, you stare at his piercing blue eyes. “I told you…I will help you whenever you need me to…” you say. Your tone is gentle and calm, sweet and kind, and it’s everything König needed right now. His eyes seem to water a little before he eventually speaks up, “I just don’t want to hurt you…I-I’m insatiable right now…” Your smile just seems to get a bit warmer when he says this, “Oh König, it’s okay—I told you I’ll help you whenever you need me to. Now tel me,” You begin, gently putting your hands into his hair and messing with his little ears and giving them gentle squeezes.

König instinctively leans into this, moaning softly when you start to scratch behind them. “Do you want me to help you through your mating season?” you ask firmly. He nods furiously, whimpering softly. “Take off all your clothes then. I promise I’ll take you as you are, but don’t be afraid to lose control—I understand and I trust you to not hurt me too badly,” you say, climbing off him to let him take off his clothes. Sitting back up on his knees, König snarls as he straight up just rips every piece of fabric on him off. You see little scars all over his body, presumably from him digging his claws into himself to keep his self-control. “You know, you could’ve told me you were a werewolf a long time ago—I would’ve been more than happy to help you out the way I am now,” you say.

König’s eyes then dart to yours and you could see that he’s already begun to break free from the chains of his self-resistance and self-control. His pupils are dilated, shoulders heaving up and down as he stares at you and breathes heavily. “Are you…really sure that…y-you’ll be okay with this? Because once I start…” he says in that same raspy voice, snarling softly, “I won’t be able to stop until I’m satisfied.” You feel your entire body fluster at this display he’s giving you. He looks so much hotter in this form, and you can’t help but wonder what it was like to fuck him this way. “I-I’m okay with this, promise…I want to help you however you need…” you say softly.

König nods and then begins to rip your clothes off, letting the shreds fall completely to the floor. “H-Hey!” you can’t help but exclaim, only to yelp slightly when he lifts you up and lays you down on your bed faster than you can even register. “I’ll buy you new clothes, now hush.” König says. He climbs over you as you lay there in your bed, and you can feel him slightly slap himself against your clit. Your eyes go even wider than before and you bite your lip. “You feel wet enough already…surely I won’t need to worry about teasing you,” he also sniffs the air, snarling softly. “Smell it too…I just want to get this all over and done with…” König groans.

And just as he says this, he lifts your legs up to your chest to put you into a mating press position. “K-König, wait!” you protest to no avail. There was no getting through to him now once he slowly pushed himself inside of you, making you whimper and moan from the stretch. König takes no time to start, gripping the backs of your knees so tightly his claws dig into you and he starts to thrust himself in and out of you. He’s much more forceful than he was every other time, driven by his primal instincts to breed you during his mating season. You can’t help but squeeze his cock tightly, as his tip practically kisses your cervix. It’s a bit painful, but you can’t help moaning over and over from how good the pain feels.

König’s larger stature still manages to tower over you even when he’s got you like this, his eyes screwed tightly shut as he thrusts into you like there's no tomorrow. The man’s lost himself to the pleasure of you clenching tightly around him, the pleasure of getting to finally mate somebody. “Fuck, Maus…you were practically made for me…I’m going to fucking mate you and make you mine~” König growls, opening his eyes slightly as he then lets a groan rip from his throat. You can’t say anything at all, accepting your fate as his forevermore as he pounds into you. “Y-Yours…I’m all yours…~” you manage to say through your helpless, wanton moans. “That you are, Maus.” König growls.

“Du gehörst mir...du bist mein Kumpel... und ich werde dafür sorgen, dass die ganze Welt es weiß…” he whispers. Suddenly, König pulls out of you before flipping you onto your stomach, raising your hips so your ass is in the air. “This is much more fitting…” König snarls as he pushes back into you. Your hands grip the bed sheets tightly, moaning even louder as his unrelenting thrusts resume again. One of his clawed hands has moved down between your legs, rubbing at your sensitive clit to make you squeeze him tighter from the sensation. “König!~ T-Too much!~” you whimper loudly, turning your head slightly to look at him.

König says nothing, giving you a sharp-toothed grin and a cocky laugh as he continues. “This is nothing yet…you’ll be begging and crying for me to stop the further I go. Like I said,” he leans down to whisper in your ear as his fingers rub deeper and harsher circles against your clit, “I won’t stop until I’m satisfied. Pass out, become completely incoherent—I’m not stopping any time soon.” he snarls. Your hips jolt slightly, as the sensation of him rubbing circles against your clit and his forceful thrusting becomes all too much. Your eyes start to slightly roll back, drool dripping onto the mattress as your jaw hangs open to moan loudly. König’s pushing you further and further towards the edge.

Feeling proud of himself, he then pulls back slightly and sinks his sharp canines into the nape of your neck right as he pushes back into you and finally finishes off inside of you. All of this has become far too overwhelming and you can’t help but finally have the most intense climax of your life; and many more were to follow after this. Your entire body’s quivering as he keeps you in place like this, hearing him growling from the satisfaction of being able to do this. König continues to thrust harder, until you feel something else press into you. Completely sheathed inside you, his knot keeps him in place as he finally reaches his own climax.

A loud snarl followed by a howl resounds in the room, his hips still slightly grinding into you until he stops. You remain there on the bed, whimpering pathetically as the stars in your vision slowly dissipate. “Fuck…oh my god…wh-what is that..?” you ask softly, trying to wiggle yourself away onto to find yourself stuck in place. König leans back down and licks the blood seeping from his bite away, as if tenderly comforting you after. “Maus…I just knotted you…you’re mine forever now that I’ve left my mark on you…” he says softly, continuing to lick at your blood. “O-Oh…how long does it last…?” you ask again, curious as to how his werewolf anatomy works.

“Hm…I’m not too sure…I haven’t knotted anyone before…” König whispers. He then presses soft kisses into the sides of your neck, moving his hands from your hips and cunt to gently roam around you. “Guess we’ll just have to wait…” he whispers once more. “Fuck…and it’s just going to be this all night, isn’t it…?” you ask. König chuckles softly, sighing happily as he gives you a nod. His ears are flat against the top of his head, tail slightly wagging. “S-Sorry, but yes…” he apologizes. You just huff through your nose before laughing softly, “It’s okay…wow…so this is what it’s like to get fucked by a werewolf…” you say softly. König nods once more and continues to tell you sweet things in German, praising you and thanking you for doing this with him.

Oh yeah…it was definitely going to be a long night.

[buddietommy-week]

You voted for them, they are here! I am pleased to release the official prompts for BuddieTommy Week 2024.

You'll find four prompts each day, including one NSFW and one line of dialogue. You can use as many of the prompts (yes, even just one) or create as many works as you wish.

Day 1: Hurt/Comfort /(Over)Protectiveness | First Time in a Poly Relationship/Figuring it out | Size Queen | "X! I swear to god, put me DOWN!" Day 2: Bodyguard AU | Secret Relationship | (Consensual or not) Somnophilia | "If you really think we don’t feel anything for you, then you’re more stupid than we thought." Day 3: Soulmates | Competency Kink | Praise Kink/"Good Boy" | "Okay, don't be alarmed, but I may or may not have been shot." Day 4: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics | They brag about each other when the others are not around | Bondage | "Care to join?" Day 5: BDSM Dynamics/AU | Carrying/Being carried | Body Worship | "Why not both?" Day 6: Call Gone Wrong | Fake Relationship | Sex Toys/Object Insertion | "Get your hands off him." Day 7: Sugar Daddy/Sugar Baby | Borrowing Clothes | Cockwarming | "Oh, don't mind me. I'm just enjoying the view."

If you feel disappointed that a certain prompt didn't make it, don't worry, the bonus week is for you. Below, you'll find a smaller list of prompts. You're not obligated to choose these, they're merely there for those who'd prefer to be confined to a set of prompts. You can draw inspiration from the list of prompts here.

Have fun creating!

Bonus Week (optional):

Day 1: 5+1 Things | “Casual/Public sex is normal” AU/Voyeurism/Exhibitionism. Day 2: Werewolves/Vampire AU | "How's the nervous breakdown coming along?". Day 3: Crime Lord/Mafia AU | "Actually, you look kinda hot in heels." Day 4: Porn Star/Stripper/Sex Work | "I'd never regret choosing you." Day 5: Hiding Injuries | Possession Kink. Day 6: Friends with Benefits | Monsterfucker. Day 7: Sharing a bed | "He doesn't know, does he (/they)?"

UPCOMING SCHEDULE:

BUDDIETOMMY WEEK: August 5 – 11, 2024 Bonus Week: August 12 – 18, 2024

This event will be accepting any and all late works, including those posted after the Bonus Week. Simply mention us @buddietommy-week and your work will be reblogged. The AO3 collection will also remain open and ready to welcome any of your creations all year around.

Questions? Comments? Check out our RULES and FAQ, or send us an ask.

[tteokdoroki]

ೀ⋆OCT 23RD JENIFER'S BODY ━━ eijirou kirishima + monsterfucking !

୨୧ — caution, you are now watching. eijirou kirishima + monsterfucking. there’s something weird going on with you. you’re like…actually evil. not college girl evil, and it’s kinda hot. (5.5K)

୨୧ — rated r. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! nsfw, heavy smut, dark content, characters aged up to 20s, college!au, friends to lovers (?), mentions of death/murder, demons, gore, choking, gags, marking, blood play, knife play, creampies, cockwarming, monsterfucking, rough sex, unprotected sex, demon + fem!reader, monster-hunter!kirishima.

୨୧ — director’s note. back again for another week! sorry for the delay on this one! it's for sure one of the spookier fics so pls proceed with caution and enjoy <3 - m.list ⋆ kinktober m.list ⋆ taglist ✧

what does it mean to die?

by definition and according to the oxford dictionary — to die means to lose the life of a person or organism. any creature that breathes (to all capacities) the same components as air as yourself, that moves, that communicates, that exists. but what does it actually mean to die? 

death is a concept the most humans find difficulty in coming to terms with. there is fear in not knowing what comes after or how it might feel when the flickering flame of your life is finally blown out. do you really see every choice you’ve ever made flash before your eyes? does it hurt? what emotions do you feel? regret, sadness, pain or happiness? 

life can be so fickle, yet is always taken for granted and in a number of ways too. those that exist at this very moment don’t dare to consider the long run, they live in the moment — yes. but do they appreciate it? and then there are those that take life, disrupt the beauty of its natural course and take away a being’s chance to see the world for what it really is. to ruin their chances of love, longing and laughter. how cruel of a human do you have to be to want to hurt someone in such a way? 

these are the thoughts that have plagued eijirou kirishima’s mind as of late, haunting his every waking moment from the second his eyes open, every hour in between, and to the second that they close. death has been a constant theme across the campus of yueii recently. ever since the fire at the beginning of the school year had burned the college’s local bar — it’s been everywhere. 

the disappearances, the murders, the deaths. 

it started with that girl, ochako uraraka, from the college cheerleading team. she went missing after a match at home and was found in the woods later on. then there was kyouka jirou — some emo looking girl who liked to skip class to play her music obnoxiously loud outside of the campus library. her friends shinsou and kaminari had been deeply affected by that. 

and as of yesterday, mina ashidou. 

she was the kind of girl eijirou would have been into if it wasn’t for his long-term boyfriend katsuki bakugou. she was bubbly and loud, but never treated anyone without an ounce of kindness and warmth — mina loved mornings, loved being in class and loved caring for her friends. the redhead had gotten close to her over the course of last semester, mina having joined him for a portion of his major (sports medicine) that coincided with her psych course. during that time relishing in the gift of her friendship and the kind gestures she offered like coffees for nine AM classes or sharing her notes whenever kirishima found things hard to follow. 

she was found dead in one of the newly built frat houses just north of her last class with eijirou kirishima. and like most of the other victims, it looked as though she’d been chewed out by animals, as if she was scared right up until her last moments. 

everyone had begged the question, who would do such a thing? why would they do it? students begin to flee, head home despite the year of lectures and assignments ahead whilst parents sent angry emails demanding that the university do more to protect their children. the killer remained at large, without a pattern, without a trademark nor a trace of evidence. nothing that could give investigators the slightest clue was ever left behind. 

the only coincidence kirishima could come up with, was the very fact that you didn’t seem to care about what happened to mina even though you had been planning a date with her just hours before her death. he distinctly remembers your conversation in the halls, how you’d barely paid the pink haired girl any mind until eijirou struck up a casual (albeit, a little, flirty) conversation with her somewhere along the line. if there’s one thing that kirishima knows about you, his best friend, is that you hate when he’s the centre of attention.

he’s known you for practically as long as he’s been alive, you’ve been friends for the same amount of time too and through years of emotional bonding — eijirou has noted so many little oddities about you. things that he once adored, at least he thought that he did. you hated it when your outfits clashed, you had always jokingly claimed that it made you look like siblings rather than lovers. you were always so possessive, it took you months to accept bakugou as a partner and even more for kirishima to finally get over you… having the inkling feeling that you were leading him on. 

to him, you were everything. a blessing wrapped in the shape of a wonderful human being, worth more than any gold or money a man could find. he loved you more than he should have for a friend, something he was a little too ashamed to admit — he let you take advantage of the kindest parts of his nature because of it. sometimes it almost felt like you wanted kirishima, like you needed him despite swearing that you weren't into the burly redhead. though nowadays, there’s a sinister twist in to his gut whenever you’re around — a cool chill that settles in his bones and a pang of fright to his chest where his heart is. like a knife has sliced right through it. 

you’re not the same as you were before. 

he gets flashes, visions of thinks he feels like he’s not supposed to see — your eyes disappearing into your skull and reappearing in a twisted shade of dark red, deep enough to rival blood diamonds and rubies. oftentimes there’s a devil’s tail and demon fangs that drip with a viscous substance akin to the one that runs through his veins and carries oxygen to his lungs. and in the days after his visions, you seem more full of life, more confident and hotter than previous ones. 

that’s when it hits him, like a sturdy building coming down on eijirou all at once. rose tinted glass shatters around him, knocking his skin — making him bleed as it’s shards form a truth that he has been dreading. 

whatever it is that you are, whatever it is that you’ve become is the reason for all of this death. 

eijirou kirishima’s best friend… you… are a demon, a demonised college student that kills college girls for sport.

in one of his dreams, eijirou sees you soaked to the bone in blood like you've drowned in a rouge tainted oil slick. you’re still as ethereal as you’ve ever been, perhaps even glowing — and even though it’s just a dream and he knows what you’ve done, he still finds himself that boy who years for you and your body against his. on top of his. moving with his—

shooting up from the comfort of his sheets, kirishima palms the dull ache at the forefront of his mind as he tries to rid himself of all thoughts regarding you. funnily enough, you’re already there, waiting for him practically naked at the foot of his bed as if eijirou had used a demon circle to summon you in the middle of the night. it never used to be like that, where he’d call for you and you’d actually answer. 

you’ve been in his room more times than he can count — put posters up with him, had sleepovers, danced to old music on his stereo tapes. but this time isn’t the same. firstly, you’ve never been bare below the waist and secondly, you’ve never looked this insane or deranged. the hairs on the back of the redhead’s neck stand on end, his spiked pulse — elevated and alive steadily thumps through him so loud he’s scared that you might hear it… and yet….

“what are you even doing here? don’t you know it’s late?” kirishima yawns, stretching out his tired limbs as he holds his arms above his head for some relief in his taut muscles. 

peeking a crimson eye open to look at you, the smear of blood at the corner of your plump lips doesn’t go unnoticed by him, though, it still doesn’t elicit the reaction eijirou expects from himself. the innate human desire to survive. 

“i owe you an explanation.” the smile that you give him is too fast to be genuine, just barely reaching your big shiny eyes. there’s that feeling again, the knots in eijirou’s stomach — the ones that let him know something is off. “you know what i am, i want to tell you why.” your tone is sickly sweet like molasses in his ears, innocent as if you’re not a demon. 

as if you’re not the one behind all of this death. you explain to kirishima in detail about the night a group of bandmates sacrificed you to satan so that they could go global. how they mistook you for a virgin sacrifice. how the devil resides within you now. you tell him about the blood of your victims and the missing people. how it’s the only thing you can stomach. how it makes you grow stronger, how it heals you, how much you love the new version of you. the murderous you. 

he thinks you might have gone insane when you flip a lighter from your pocket to burn your tongue — showing how you recover almost instantly. it’s only then that fear strikes eijirou in the chest with the power of a lightning bolt — realising that he’s well and truly lost his best friend. to satan or to insanity. 

poor, gullible, eijirou kirishima — for doubting that his best friend could be capable of such heinous crimes. and while you stand there, looking more alive and more beautiful than ever… he just can’t fight the feeling that makes him want to run. 

the red head quickly realises that he’s no longer faster or stronger than you. for your demon powers have you reaching the bed before he can even throw off the sheets. your toned thighs swing around his waist to lock eijirou down to the bed, his back hitting the blankets with a dull thud and his wrist nearly crushed in your hand — wrestling his concealed knife away from your chest, just barely nicking you.

“why would you want to hurt me, eiji?” you comment softly, acting as if everything is as it were before you changed.  “it’s still the same old me!” the both of you are breathing deep from where your old friend thrashes underneath you, his pupils dilating and casting a dark shadow over his terrified red eyes. “i really don’t want to hurt you.” 

this could be it. he thinks. his life flashing before his eyes just like the stories say. “t-then don’t…” kirishima stutters, the pitch of his voice spiking as you shift on top of him — inspecting him as if he’s a piece of meat. you have him right where you want him, his blade under your control, his vital organs open and vulnerable. one wrong move and kirishima could be next on your list of life-force victims. “you don’t have to.” 

“you’re right… i don’t think i will.” cooing, you take your free hand down eijirou’s muscled body, tongue darting out to wet your lips while your hips grind down on his swelling erection — painfully hard from the mix of arousal and fear coursing through his blood stream. “on one condition,” you continue on, moaning lightly at the sensation of your clothed clit catching on his cockhead. “you let me feed from you.” 

“w-will you kill me?”

“only if you stop trying to kill me.” you’re not upset, from what he can tell — revelling in your best friend’s guilt and betrayal as his knife drags along your collarbones in a thin slice from where you’ve let your guard down. 

a crimson gaze flickers to all of the vital points on your face — searching for your innocence and any traces of who you once were. seizing the opportunity hiding within your hesitation and the crack in your resolve, kirishima tries once more to shove you off of him but makes the mistake of trusting your facade. he’s quick but you’re quicker, raking your nails over his toned stomach until they catch on the waistband of his shorts. as soon as his erection springs free — wetly slapping against his stomach whilst precum tangles in the coarse black of his pubic hair, you slither your hot cunt down on to him. 

straight to the hilt. 

your thighs either side of his angled hips keep the redhead anchored to his sheets and your hands splayed across his stomach stop him from writhing away from your quivering cunt as it clenches around him. not that he’d want to. pull out of you, of course. eijirou grows delirious, hot under the collar at the feeling of his weighty cock pulsing against your biscuits, squishy insides. a tender whimper bubbles up on his slightly chapped lips, his pointed teeth sinking into the swell of his lower one to try and muffle the pathetic sound. 

he can hardly believe this. that is best friend, whatever form you might be taking right now, is sitting on his fat, drippy dick like he’s always dreamed of. any guilt kirishima has pulsing through his veins (in regards to basically cheating on  bakugou, his boyfriend, no less) is replaced by white hot blistering lust. it burns at his nerve endings, painfully tremors through his erection trapped by your welcoming wet walls.  it leaks against pleasure spots in the form of sticky precum — white and thick as it paints your pussy while you cockwarm him. 

kirishima swallows and his adam’s apple bobs, he looks up at you through his dark long lashes without a word — afraid this his voice will fail him and end up in a moan.  

“please, eijirou,” you purr, completely devoid of any blame-worthiness or evidence of your wrong doings. you’ve killed people. innocent girls for your own bloodlust and now you’re where — seated on your bestie’s dick as if your crimes mean nothing. and with a pussy like yours, wrapped around kirishima so warmly and tightly, he might start to believe that you’re innocent too. “let me feed from you, promise i won’t hurt you. i just…need…”

leaning down towards his neck, your hips shift above his own, encouraging his heavy girth to sink deeper inside of you — walls rippling pleasurably around him. the sudden movement causes a low, and needy groan to take residence in kirishima’s chest — taking root in his lungs and other vital organs. his head tips back into the pillows, ruby, blood red locks tussled against their fabric as a bead of sweat rolls down his forehead and another down his chin. tracing the ridges of his adam’s apple and the column of his throat. 

his eyes don’t dare flutter shut, coasting over your every move as your lips ghost over his prominent collarbone and then his neck — pressing into his pulse pout where his heartbeat races, fear and adrenaline shooting through his body thanks to the steady thump of his heart. 

you hear it all, the frightened tune of eijirou’s bodily orchestra only causing your mouth to water. “just need to taste you…” pouting, you nudge the point at which his chiselled jaw meets his neck. “need you.”

slowly but surely, your hunger reveals your truest form — and instead of the sweet girl eijirou kirishima once new, you sprout demon horns and a tail, nails that could tear a throat out, teeth that could surely cause carnage and a feral grin proving to the redhead that you would eat him alive. in contrast, your tone is sweet like syrupy honey or hard candy, the kind that eijirou loves — it’s salacious and full of wanton and he knows that he should resist. but you’ve always had a way of getting what you want out of him — he can never say no to you. you are his girl after all. 

and no matter how hard he tries to escape your clutches — he will always be yours. 

“f-fine,” kirishima barks, albeit shakily. “t-take what you need. just as long as you promise not to kill me.” 

“pinky, baby.” comes your angelic coo, contrasting with the deep red of your own blood as it drips against kirishima’s golden boy skin. your hands massage over his sensitive pecs, smearing your hot blood over his nipples as they pebble under your fiendish touch. there’s a devilish spark in your pretty eyes once he agrees, and so, you latch onto his gorgeous, golden tanned skin ready to feed on kirishima to your heart's content. 

as the pointed edge of your teeth sink into eijirou’s neck, his hips instinctively turn upwards and nudge his thick cock against your womb while layers of your juices spiral down each prominent blue vein that decorates his shaft.  you bite down, hard, bruising him with shades of deep purple and midnight blue as if you’re creating a work of art.   you suck the life from kirishima, close to draining his blood as if you’re a vampire fledgling with her first catch of prey. 

there’s a weakness and a fuzziness that sits comfortably over eijirou’s brain, enhanced by the steady stream you set your hips — gently lifting and dropping them over the red head’s lap. the more energy, the more life force, that you drink from him — a mix of your blood and his glossing over your lips, the more turned on you feel. your cunt drips down his balls like a never ending tap, you’re so wet that a lewd slap echoes throughout your best friend’s bedroom. 

even though you’re the one in control, guiding the hum of ecstasy that courses throughout kirishima's entire body, the waves that make him tingle from the top of his head to the tips of his toes — there’s no doubt that he has you losing your composure. the delicious burn of his girth against the tight rim of your entrance every time you sink down on the redhead drives you up the wall and pulls innocent whimpers from the bloody seam of your lips. 

having him pressed up against your silken walls, bearing down on that special spot inside your swollen sinful pussy while you drain the man fry of his life force causes your jaw to go slack and tony spurts of his seed to coat your puffy folds. “oh fuck!” you drawl all high pitched, eyes disappearing into your skull as a bemused and blood-coated smile stretches across your angelic face. “you feel like heaven, eiji.” to pacify yourself, you lick over the puncture wound of your teeth that you’ve left against kirishima’s neck, grabbing him by the cheeks and tilting his head so you have access to the other side. “you taste so good, feel even better.” 

“y-yeah?” kirishima asks, his voice shaky and extra husky from the lust. against his better judgement, clouded by all that is you — his rough hands fall to your doughy hips, manoeuvring you on his throbbing dick to his liking. “i-i like the way you fuck me, baby. but please…please move a little faster…”eijirou feels like he’s going insane beneath you chasing your sweltering and souse sex like a man following a mirage to quench his thirst. he behinds to push upward where you bounce your ass and pull off his cock, your hips rocking together fluidly.  

his morals are completely abandoned, he could care less about the fact that you might be a killer, that you’re some kind of otherworldly being — especially when you ride him just like that. you release his raw bitten neck from your jaws of death, face and chin covered in blood and spit, while your hands dance down your chest and tweak at your nipples for your best friend’s viewing pleasure. he groans lowly at the sight, extending a thumb from your hip to reach between your doughy thighs and fat pussy lips so he can spread you wide open for him. 

“g-getting bold, are we eiji?” you simper, ruby red lips caught between your pointy teeth when the rough pad of his thumb grazes your swollen clit as it peaks from between your folds. feverishly, you grind against kirishima’s digit, leaving a treacle-like trace of your sweet nectar against his hand. “so nasty. trying to get me off while i drain you dry. you m-must be delirious. so cute.”

he hates the way that you mock him, poke fun at how fucked up kirishima is for you. even though he knows that you’re slowly but surely killing him, drinking his blood while you take a seat on his achy, wet cock — he can’t help but give into you. eijirou wonders if this is how your other victims went out, if your precious tits swaying in their hot faces were the last thing they saw before you took them out. it’s a crude thought, but it only serves to turn him on even more. picturing you this way above others, your skin shining in the moonlight from the perspiration that glitters over you along with your glistening slit that leaves webs of your slick in his pubic hair.  

while his thoughts escape him and his imagination runs wild, your next move catches the redhead by surprise. you grip his throat tight as leverage as you ride the man for dear life, pudgy thighs slapping against his strong ones, clit grinding  against his pelvis and fingers. “fuck me,” eijirou begs, face twisted in rapture and guilt, cheeks as red as his hair. “fuck me harder, take what you want from me. j-just give it to me.”

it must be the lack of oxygen to his brain that obscures his view of you — the cold hearted killer on campus. because eijirou only sees his best friend, the girl he’s wanted his entire life, falling apart on his creamy cock as it bullies it’s way into your womb. he doesn’t care what you do to him as long as he keeps feeling as high as cloud nine.

the way you fuck yourself down on him right now, it’s like an out of body experience. you’re hot all over, out of control, objects and and Knick knacks around kirishima’s room levitating with  the sheer amount of power and euphoria pulsating through your sweaty bodies as they move together in a shamefully slurry dance.

his head rolls to the side when you speed up, slamming your clenching cunt down on him with an erratic rhythm — a crude mix of your arousals flying about the place and wafting with the scent of metallic blood in the sex trained air. “you’re so needy, eijirou. bakugou hasn’t been taking care of you.” you tease through baited breath, throwing your hips down on him so that his milky precum spreads along your ribbed and sensitive walls. 

you sink your teeth into his perfectly poised neck once more, leaving your mark and draining him of that life energy again. kirishima wails at your comment, chest heaving and eyes watering, his lungs threatening to explode with blistering lust. the more you bite at him, take his blood and his life, the more powerful eijirou feels. because you seem to have forgotten one key element to your newly found powers. 

where your other victims were torn to shreds, the bites you leave on kirishima leave him with pieces of your demon abilities too. 

“you can’t even respond, s’kinda pathetic, don’t you think eiji?” your words are harsher, meaner, and the red head can’t tell if it makes him want to fuck you or hate you more. “that you’re willing to let me sue you like this. take your life just like every pretty girl before you…maybe when i’m done with you, i’ll pick on your little boyfriend next—“ 

you truly are the fucking devil. 

though everything you say is slurred and in the heat of the moment — you don’t have a chance to finish. every syllable ends in a salacious squeal when kirishima uses his newfound strength to wildly jackhammer into you. so fast and fucking hard that his weighty breeder’s balls smack against the jiggly flesh of your ass. his beefy arms snake their way around your shoulders, anchoring you to his girth while the bed creaks beneath the weight.

“will you fucking quit it?” in split second and surprising turn of events, eijirou has you flipped onto your stomach — sweaty chest to your back and cock so deep his pelvis barely peels away from your ass as it bounces for him. “you promised not to try and hurt me. but if you want it to hurt, then I’ll make it so.” 

cockwarming him hardly prepared you for just how big and blessed your best friend is. chubby, fat and drooly as his cock glides through the sugar glazed lining of your gushy walls. every time your creamy hole clamps down on him, he threatens to crumble. like a mountain with an avalanche, his girth doused in your sweet essence and his breath shaky against your ear. kirishima grips at your demon’s tail where it sprouts just above your ass, stroking it lewdly just to hear you yowl for him. 

the sheets below become victim to your pointed teeth, tearing through the soft linen in an attempt to calm your pornographic screams. “c’mon big guy,” you growl into the sheets, muffled, needy and amused, while you run your tongue over blood soaked teeth. “i thought you were going to make it hurt—“ 

“don’t test my patience, sweetheart,” your best friend snarls back as if you’re two animals fighting over land or territory — using his brute force, eijirou  grips you by the back of your neck in a similar fashion to the way you did him, and yanks you onto your knees so that you’re both kneeling in the bed while eijirou fucks your wet little cunt raw. “if ‘m gonna fuck you, it’s going to be by my rules. so do me a fuckin’ favour and keep your pretty mouth shut, alright?”

the bed squeals louder than you do with this new position, eijirou angling his hips up to meet your g-spot perfectly — letting your eager pussy swallow him down. you lose control quicker than your brain can even realise, overpowered by the way the  redhead brutally pounds into you, milky and heavy precum pearling along your ribbed walls like dew droplets in a black widow’s spiderweb. your sex welcome him home as if he was never meant to leave, clench on his bright red tip as you froth at his base and drop down his balls. 

equally, your mouth foams with copious amounts of spit, your head hanging low while eijirou ruts  you into a state of delirium. he licks the trace of drool seeping out of loud mouth and follows it up to your lips — generously feeding you his hungry moans and strings of spit. keeping you sedated, all for him while your tongues roll over one another in a fierce battle, neither of you knowing who will come out on top. 

“you’re disgusting,” kirishima barks against your nape, giving it a near murderous squeeze — he fumbles around in the sheets and somehow locates the knife from before, pressing its cool blade against your skin with his free hand. you can just about hear him over the pap, pap, pap of his Rick plunging in and out of your slick walls. “don’t you feel guilty? huh? for…fuck, killing anyone?” the metal against your skin makes you moan, makes kirishima light headed and the whole ordeal so much hotter. 

but you somehow manage to smirk in response, throwing it back into the red head aggressively— drowning in the pleasure. “don’t you feel guilty for fucking their killer?”

you grip the knife, pulling it closer to your vitality veins, light trails of blood from the wound smearing along kirishima’s skin meeting your skin. “why shouldn’t i kill you?” 

“y-you don’t have a reason not to!” you battle through the thick drool on your tongue, hyperfocus in the precum and slick slinging between your sore thighs. you’re wrecked and ruined, losing your demon strength to your goodie two shoes best friend. “i’m a god, death doesn’t s-scare me!” with the way his dick churns you up, eijirou stretches you beyond your limits and preps you to take his impending heavy load. “f-fuck! right there, k-kiri!”

it’s so good that your demon powers activate on their own, your insides that burn bright with ecstasy grow so hot that they heat the knife pressed against you — branding eijirou’s hand with your claim until he drops the hot metal. he falters, the rhythm of his thrusts going sloppy while a creamy sound echoes between your sexes. you’ve changed and you’re right. 

if eijirou kirishima really cared about your victims he would have turned you in and ended this all at the first chance. instead he dips into your demonic charm, afraid of what lies on the other end of this sinful ordeal. does he let you go? does he turn you in? does he keep his best friend here in his arms no matter what crimes you may commit?

“oh…oh eiji!” you whine, small and cute. “‘m gonna cum! please cum for me…cum with me.”

gone is his precious best friend, replaced with a slutty demon trying to selfishly such down his cock. lost in the moment of the ecstasy, you reach back and rake your talons across his skin in one last attempt to leave your mark and it’s only then that eijirou has had enough. using all of his strength, he roughly pushes you down to the sheets once more — forcing the sheets into your mouth to keep you quiet. 

“i can’t stand you.” he reiterates, huffing against your shoulder while locks of his hair stick to your hot, sweaty bodies. “you’re so fucking greedy. so evil…”eijirou shifts to press his hand into the pillow next to your head, smiling sadistically at your muffled screams as he puts the last of his energy into making you cum just as you want. because you always get what you want out of him. “y-you don’t even deserve this.” 

“b-but you’ll give it to me,” you pant around your mock gag, swallowing down thickly. “i’ll keep killing if i have to… you’ll still want me…” 

even if it’s true, eijirou always wanting you, he can’t shake the feeling that you’re no longer the girl he used to know. used to love. his warm and kind persona you once knew is replaced with a similar demonic beast full of lust. “yeah i will and you’ll fuckin’ take it.” he threatens, continually bucking into you and nudging your g-spot in a swaying dance of sacrilege. “s-shit, you’re gettin’ tight. are you really that close, so soon?”

all you can do is nod — grabbing and biting at anything to keep yourself calm. the world around you shakes furiously and white blinds your gaze as you cum, juices splashing back onto kirishima’s meaty girth. “let me give it to you, hm? cream this pussy. make you mine like you want…” comes the red head’s last simper before the dam breaks and your demon cunt drains him dry, milking him for every last drop of his potent white seed.

the two of you are reduced to shallow breaths and heavy eyelids — exhausted from the loss of blood and sharing of demon powers. 

but before you can turn around and sing kirishima your praises — the air is sucked from your lungs, a searing pain shooting through your back right through to the centre of your chest. thick, hot blood fills your lungs and the cavity in which they rest, it gathers at the corners of your cherry bitten lips and seeps through the knife wound kirishima has inflicted on you. 

he’s quite literally stabbed you in the back. 

he had no other choice, he couldn’t let you go on hurting people and tarnishing the image of his once best friend. you were different now, you had no place in the world anymore. it was your turn at death’s door, eijirou had decided. 

“i… i’m sorry,” he says carefully, pulling out and away from you as you lay dying beneath him. “i… i couldn’t—“ 

with the last of your energy you offer eijirou kirishima a weak and bloody smile. “s’okay…” your breathing slows in understanding, and he lets go of the knife in your back. “so by any chance… have a tampon?” 

of course you would find it in you to make a joke when faced with death. you weren’t afraid of anything. 

and now, neither was kirishima. 

with his newfound demon powers he wouldn’t let your death nor that of others go in vein. he would find the pro heroes who did his to you, made him do this to you, and make them pay. 

a life for a life. a death for the same price.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[lemon-boy-stan]

Helloooo. Do we leave requests here? I don’t know. I’m just a potato.

anyway, what about Genshin tall men waking up in the middle of the night and thoughts come tumbling in? Could be safe, nsfw, comedy, whatever you like. (But please make Zhongli’s disgustingly sweet because I am so in love with him). Thank you for listening to my ramblings

if this is the wrong method… I’m sorry >.<

Hii!! This is the right way to request!! I'm sure you're not a potato 😭😭 anyway here's your request!! Also I hope you dont mind but I turned it into a full one-shot with zhongli!!! Ummmm yes he has two cocks in this teehee

HERBAL TEA - Rex Lapis x Reader

SUMMARY: Zhongli can't sleep as it's mating season. It's been centuries with him as your husband, but there are still many secrets he has kept hidden from you, many insecurities. GENRE: Fluff, SMUT. Kinda ooc. MINORS DNI. WARNINGS: monsterfucking, breeding, use of the word "pet", "mate", penetration, p in v, unprotected sex, some blood, messy cum, zhongli has a forked tongue, zhongli has two cocks. It's also mentioned that zhongli makes the reader immortal with his icor (that's the ooc stuff). Really filthy smut 😭😭. Also, reader is female!

It was late at night; early morning. You'd woken up suddenly, hearing a loud thud. You looked to the left side of the bed, reaching out for your husband.

Zhongli's side of the bed was cold, and empty. You turned on the bedside lamp, bare chest cold, you scavenged from r the nearest piece of clothing you could find, one of your husband's massive button-down shirts, drowning in it like a dress. You got up, the moonlight shining on your skin.

"Zhongli," you called softly for him. You hugged yourself, walking out of the master bedroom. Zhongli stood at the kitchen table, making a pot of herbal tea. You smiled softly, walking over. He was in his half-dragon form, arms black and shimmering golden. He was growing more comfortable like this, every century since you'd been immortal.

"Morax," you bowed, walking over. He put the teapot down, smiling softly, "my dear, what are you doing awake?" He took your hand and kissed it before twirling you so he could wrap you in his arms. Last night had been one of the best of your life. Zhongli was possessive, but evidently, dragons did not share their treasure, as you had learnt from flirting with a man in the court of Fontaine.

"Your side of the bed was cold," you complained, "I missed you." Zhongli was a light sleeper. As if reading your mind, he hugged you tight, kissing the side of your neck, the texture of his forked tongue making you arch your back in pleasure.

Morax chuckled, "I couldn't sleep, so I wanted to make tea. Then I was reading, but I got distracted... I finished my tea, and I'm making another one... Then I was thinking... My love," he whispered softly, "I need to mate soon." Was that shame in his voice? Why was he ashamed? He bowed his head, "I am getting restless. And now that you are ready, now that I've fed you my ichor for centuries, I must reveal all of myself to you. I can't control it."

Ah. So this at least, explained his sudden change in behaviour. Yes, many years ago, before getting married to him, before becoming immortal, Zhongli had asked, if you were able to withstand so many years of being alive. Yes, you'd told him, he was the man you loved, and you'd gladly be by his side forever.

But he still had so many secrets, he'd said, secrets he wasn't ready to share yet. He was a god, after all. He was a god, yes, but he was also the love of your life. You'd told him this, that eternity with him would be a paradise.

"In order to fulfil the mating process," he explained softly, "I must go through a series of changes. My human form, is quie different to my half-god form, which is why I always make love to you in my human disguise. When I am like this, my body is different. You will notice my tongue is forked. I apologise for hiding it from you for so long, my dear. In order to complete the process... I must... I'm afraid I must... Mate you with both... Both of my cocks."

You gasped, shocked. He looked at you, fear in his golden eyes, which were bright and on the verge of tears. "I am sorry for hiding it for so long," he choked, shame in his voice. "I tried to conceal it, but my body... It's why I was so different last night. Your scent, even after all these years... I needed to mate with you. I understand if you don't want to. I am not sure what will happen. I have never done this before, with a human. I-" you kissed him.

He groaned into the kiss, tightening his grip around your body. You looked up into his big, yellow eyes. "Rex Lapis," you spoke, making his ichor run through him, "you do not understand, do you?" And he cocked his head as you smiled, "I am yours. You asked me all those years ago. I was so in love with you. I am so in love with you. I want nothing more than this. I want nothing more than you, always and forever, to be your wife, to be your mate."

And Zhongli growled. He picked you up, carrying you to the bedroom, throwing you softly onto the bed. "Are you sure you want this?" You nodded, looking up at him, "yes, Rex Lapis, please." And all he did was laugh, "my love, you won't be able to take them."

Zhongli crawled on you, growling and snorting animalistically, the sound of his belt being unbuckled and clattering echoing in the room. "I am not stopping until this cunt is full of my offspring. Do you consent, pet?" You nodded meekly. He was so powerful, even after centuries of drinking his ichor you still felt beneath him.

"I need to hear it, my love. Do you consent?" He kissed your neck, licking his forked tongue up and down your body, making your toes curl. "I consent," you breathed lustfully, "I consent." He let out a hot breath of air, "good." And with that, Zhongli thrust both of his cocks inside of you, no warning and no preparation.

You screamed loudly, pain washing over you at the foreign feeling of his second cock. Had they grown larger? They felt bigger than usual. You sobbed loudly, gripping onto the headboard behind you. Zhongli was only spurred on by the tears. It hurt, but felt so good. This was why he had been training you, you realised, to take both his cock and a crystal toy at the same time. But nothing prepared you for this.

You could feel all of him. All of his rage, his jealousy, his obsession, his greed, his love, his sadness, his happiness, flowing through you, golden waves surrounding both of your bodies in the bed. You moaned loudly, feeling all of his emotions, all of his strength, his power. It was so much. "Feel what I feel," he snarled, "understand what it's like to be in your prescence."

Nothing but his name left your lips, "Zhongli, Zhongli, Zhongli," feeling far too good to think, to even notice the gold blood leaking from your cunt as Morax dragged both of his cocks along your walls. "Do you know how much I've had to restrain my true form?" He roared, ignoring your sobs, thrusting harder each time. "Do you know how fucking insatiable you are? Do you know how weak you make me? You? A mere human? The only human I've ever fed my ichor, the only human I've given my offspring, the only human I've ever loved before?" Do you know how obsessed I am with you?!"

You shook your head, "more, Rex Lapis, more!" Babbling the words through tears, smelling his thoughts and emotions, too overwhelmed with power. Too fucked by both of his cocks. He snorted, slamming them back inside you. You screamed, a painful orgasm crashing down on you. "Yes," he hissed, "yes. Cum all over me, pet. Yes... Cum all around my cocks, just like that. Yes, yes, yes..." Zhongli's groans filled the room, the gold waves growing bigger and bigger.

You were shaking of an orgasm, panting for breath. Zhongli roared loudly, and you could sense it coming, tears streaming down his face, the black and gold of his arms engulfing his entire body as he came, roaring wordlessly through the night, the entire house shaking, drowned in a gold light, smelling of sex. His cum dripped down your legs, there was just so much.

Rex Lapis was still for a while, and you were afraid he was injured. Then he smiled fondly at you, the black and gold evaporating from his body, his half-dragon form morphing back into his human form, although you noticed some things were still in tact. He pulled out and looked at you, uncertainty in his eyes.

"Was I okay?" He was still hovering above you, cleaning your legs and the sheets. You pulled him close to you, kissing him. The tears fell from his face and you realised he was scared. Terrified. You smiled at him softly, "you were beautiful, Rex Lapis, beautiful." And for the first time in his life, the god let out a soft giggle.

GENSHIN IMPACT MASTERLIST

NAVIGATION

Thank you so much for requesting, I hope you liked it!

[yandere-sins]

Not to be the monsterfucker y'all know and love but I was running around, clearing the map today a bit while I was waiting for a visitor and I found these absolute UNITS of skeletons (They are called Death Shepherds):

Like HELLO???? I don't even mean that sexually but WHY ARE THEY SO FREAKIN' HOT???? (Sorry for the crap resolution on the first pic, I forgot screenshot's existed and used my phone, but then I remembered.)

Also they were HUGE BOYS (yes, plural, there were 2. Like Gale certainly has BJ height at most next to them, they were MASSIVE CHUNKS OF SKELETON AND ARMOR!!) compared to everyone else, even my Dragonborn Tav, and they kept reanimating the ghouls (which weren't as pretty), so I told my friend who was obviously appalled by how infatuated I was with the skeletons really tickled my inspiration for them, and I was thinking...

Yandere skeletons that are just your scary dog privilege, protection squad.

(And no, we are not sexualizing this time, this is not Sans Undertale.)

You should have died that day you met them, but without any apparent reason, they didn't attack you. They just watch you with their holes for eyes, ever so slightly creeping closer. It's not until the ghouls sticking around them notice you that you get into grave danger. You see those hungry, violent creatures charge at you, their claws scraping over stone and dirt as they come for your life, when, suddenly, the sound of a sharp blade cutting through the air and then flesh fills the crossroad where your unfortunate encounter takes place.

The scream ripping from your throat gets stuck as the head of the ghoul that attacked you rolls up to your feet, a now bloody sword lowering again as you hear the other ghouls whimper—whimper!—before they take off the other way. Instead, the two skeletons stalk closer, their armor rattling as if they were still living, breathing beings going off to war. Instead, one bends down, inspecting you with soulless eyes, its hand coming up to cup your cheek as if concerned with the horror etched into your face.

There's no getting rid of them. After standing around for what feels like ages, you are as confused as you are increasingly in a hurry to get away. Once you take enough steps away to turn your back to them without fearing being struck down, you make a mad dash for your life, running until your thighs burn and lungs beg for a moment to breathe—only to hear their armor rattle behind you.

Honestly, purely from a travel companion point of view, you cannot ask for anyone better. They are swift and skilled in battle, scaring away anyone who dares to come close to you, and incredibly low maintenance, as they don't need food or shelter, really. But they aren't mindless goons either, and that's where things get crazy.

Because one night, they decide they deserve cuddles for all the good they do.

As if being watched by the darkness in their eye sockets while you sleep isn't bad enough, you feel the hard armor press to your back one night, an arm—clothed but mere bones—wrapping around you from behind, face nestling into the nape of your neck. You can kind of come to terms with them trotting behind you all day, never saying anything, never leaving your side. You might even be thankful for their help when they keep robbers and goblins at bay and you out of any harm's way. Hell, you let them watch you do anything like eat, sleep, and—despite feeling unwarranted shame rake its claws down your body—bathe. But this was getting out of hand.

It could have been okay if it had only been a moment, but learning that these creatures sought out contact this intimate freaks you out. And it's never just a moment of putting their souls at ease, no. Because no matter how much you wriggle, they won't let go of you, their scraggy fingers digging into your flesh. You'll have to wait for them to switch if you want to try and escape, leaving everything behind to make a run for it in the middle of the night. But in stark contrast to you, who ran into the darkness without the time to collect things, they have all their belongings on them if they pick up their swords, and they can run endlessly without worrying about aches and stamina, catching up to you quickly. You'll just hang your head and be escorted back to camp when you decide to stop panicking, only for them to take the opportunity to rearrange and occupy both sides of your bedroll as they please once you want to lay down for another sleepless night.

It's not like you can get rid of them. You can't take them both on and if one falls, the other will just bring it back to life in an endless circle. You saw it before; no doubt it will happen again. Even if you talk to them, ask them questions, or shoo them away, they don't budge and cannot answer, getting into motion again only if you do. The most they ever give you to indicate their thoughts is laying their head to the side as if they don't understand you. Or admire you. Or stare at you adoringly. Who knows.

Things turn from bad to worse when you decide to end your adventure and return home. The stares you receive when you enter the city you live in with your hulking, undead companions are mortifying. Some people faint on the spot; others scream. And the two try to fight anyone trying to squeeze past them, seeing them as possible enemies to you. They made sure your life will never be the same. Neither friends nor family can get close to you, and no one dares to talk with you, trade, or even look your way. These two are creating a life where you'll be separated from anyone but them, and you begin to doubt they are doing it unintentionally. You'll never be able to free yourself unless you find a group that manages to actually kill them both.

But then again, as you stare at the night sky, stars twinkling above you, you can't help but feel bad for the two boney companions hugging you and resting their hard heads on your chest. The same ones that are so scarily indifferent, yet swift and merciless in a fight, straight out of a horror story with blood splattered on their white faces and swords in hand. Yet, they pick up flowers for you on the way or clean your equipment while you're asleep, hunting food for you and preparing it so you can cook and eat it right away. They are like needy puppies, putting their heads on top of yours while you read the map or admire the scenery, or hold onto your sleeve as you walk through a dark cave so you don't get lost. Clearly, they have some lingering sentiment, searching for warmth and affection from you. There's nowhere for you to run or hide, as they have all the time and strength to go after you. Maybe you shouldn't have given them names, shouldn't have treated them kindly when you started to travel together. But all these regrets come now when it's already too late.

Because they will let nothing and no one take you from them, no matter who or what they have to fight, just so they can have you all to themselves.

Their pretty, little, alive darling with a heart that races so fast whenever they do anything, be it scare or love you. 

__________________

Bonus points for you somehow dying despite their efforts (traps and magic are a bitch to avoid), so they keep reviving you, and they either... 

a.) succeed, and now you owe them your life and have to live with the knowledge of what it's like to die and that they'll most likely keep reviving you, even if you die of old age. So you'll suffer eternally with them.

b.) don't succeed, and can't accept/don't understand you're dead, so they carry your body around, trying to show you all the pretty things they learned you like as you slowly decay in their arms until you are a mere skeleton like them, so they lay you to rest in a grave with them, coming alive only when someone tries to rob your grave before returning to slumber next to you. You three won't even be apart in death.

Like, sorry guys, that's my emotional support yandere skeleton beloved ♥

[emeritus-fuckers]

Hewlloww could you do the “a kink for every Papa” just with the ghouls? So a “kink for every ghoul?”

Have an amazing day you sweet human being. The papas love you <4

Decided to combine these two asks to make it easier on us because there's like thirty ghouls and we'd die if we tried this separately. there's a lot of color because i'm autistic and i deserve to color the post, that's a whole 30 ghouls. - rat

A kink for every Ghoul

CW: CNC for Chain.

Fire Ghouls

Alpha (he/him)

Alpha may not seem like it, but the threat of a knife in bed turns him on. The Fire Ghoul will fight you a bit, but just give in once he feels the bite of the blade in his skin. If you don’t slice him up like swiss cheese he won’t be happy.

Ifrit (he/him)

Ifrit has beautiful tits. Seriously, he’s about to bust out of that uniform of his. Because of those large tits... he is extremely fond of getting on his knees and letting someone fuck them. He loves fucking a nice pair of tits, sure…but it hits different when he’s the one covered in cum.

Sodo (he/him)

Sodo is a big enthusiast of making you bleed. It doesn't matter if it's with his teeth or claws. Obsessively eating you out on your period is also fair game. Just about anything that has to do with blood.

Blaze (he/him; Papa Nihil's Ghoul)

His name didn't come from nowhere. Blaze is a big fan of weed. And other drugs. Of course his favorite kind of sex is high sex. But, if you've got any aphrodisiac on hand, he's not gonna be fussy about that. He'll take it like a good boy.

Water Ghouls

Chain (it/ghoul)

Just by looking at it, you can tell that Chain is the kind of ghoul that loves CNC. Ghoul loves being the victim of it, or doing it to someone else. It prefers doing it to someone, though... It loves chasing you through the woods. Smelling your fear and excitement. Shoves you down and uses you as much as ghoul pleases.

Lake (he/him)

Lake might not seem like it at first, but he's actually surprisingly fond of making you squirm in pain. Biting, scratching, some light choking or using toys that will hurt you so good... Yup, you guessed it. Lake is a sadist. And a proud one, at that.

River (they/them)

They’re a whore. Plain and simple. Plenty of dirty dreams in that head of theirs... though they love when those dreams are made worse by someone fucking them in their sleep. Consensually, of course... enthusiastic consent, really. They return the favor as well... watching their partner wake up screaming in pleasure is always fun.

Cowbell (they/it)

They love seeing you in a blindfold. And other forms of sensory depravation, of course, but its favorite is taking your sight. They love watching you tremble and jump whenever it does anything. They loves seeing you squirm from the softest touches. After all, when you can't see, everything else is so much stronger.

Mist (he/she)

Tentacles, plain and simple. Fucking Mist is straight up monsterfucking, since he has tentacles coming out of her cunt. Wanna be egged with those tentacles of hers? All you have to do is ask and he'll stuff you full. Sleeping with Mist is an experience in itself. A rollercoaster of an experience, actually.

Rain (she/he/ve)

She's a very soft person in bed. He can get mean, yes, but ver preference is soft and loving. So soft and so loving, actually, that he wants you to cry from it. There's something so pretty in your tears that she can't resist overstimulating you just a little bit to see those tears again. Rain is definitely a dacryphiliac, though ve'll never admit it.

Storm (they/he; Papa Nihil's Ghoul)

Storm is generally very calm. That is, until they're in pain. Then he turns into a whimpering mess, begging for more, like a whore. C'mon. You know you wanna hurt them a little, don't you? Treat this masochistic slut the way he needs to be treated.

Earth Ghouls

Cliff (they/he)

Cliff is a very relaxed, pleasant dude. You'd think he'd be a nice, soft partner in bed, too, but in reality... They love having you tied up. Or cuffed, preferably. Just for a little, so he can rail you stupid enough to not be able to move in general. And then they take care of you, like the loving boyfriend that he is.

Pebble (he/him)

He doesn't really get bothered by his height, especially since it makes bottoming easier and Pebble is an absolute bottom. A cute one. He loves it when his partner (especially if it's the love of his life!) takes care of him. Certified pillow prince.

Ivy (he/xe)

Xe is likely the biggest fan of edging in the world. It's almost a necessity at this point. If it's a cock ring or just shoving him down and sucking him off until xe's whimpering so beautifully. Over and over. And over. Until those pretty eyes are overflowing with tears and just can't anymore.

Mountain (he/him)

Oh, such a innocent little lamb, isn't he? He just loves to be coaxed and taken by someone oh, so dangerous... loves to be corrupted. To be ruined. In both ways. He is the biggest squirmer. Will not stop moving until he's just too fucked out and too filthy. Ruin him and make this little lamb dirty.

Quake (they/them; Papa Nihil's Ghoul)

Quake is a very goofy, cheerful and energetic person, who very often just can't stay in one place for too long. That is, of course, unless you're on their lap, keeping their cock inside you. Then they just melt completely and stay put until you decide it's over. They will beg for just a few more minutes, though.

Air Ghouls

Eurus (they/she)

We all know she likes to stare. We've seen them in Year Zero and the studio recordings. Eurus loves to watch and stare. So of course, if you want to fuck someone else (which she's never opposed to, of course!), they'll request to watch. Won't even blink. She wants to see everything you do. Might jerk off in her seat as they observe their pretty darling railing someone else... or getting railed, preferably.

Zephyr (they/he)

Zephyr is possessive. Not just a little. They claim it’s instinct. However, nothing gets them riled up more than seeing the marks he left on your skin from your passionate late night sex. Though they get even more insistent on marking if someone else left their marks behind. Just as a reminder who you really belong to... and those bruises and bitemarks look so good on his lover.

Cirrus (she/ze)

Ze's a big enthusiast of using both her dick and her cunt (as well as mouth and those really well trained fingers) just to make you completely stupid. No matter what genitals you have, she'll fuck you brainless. And then ze's gonna coo at you, fawning over how cute you are when you're such a blabbering mess like that, and all of it just for her! Cirrus absolutely adores having you overstimulated.

Cumulus (she/her)

We all (well me) love her chest. So it's a very pleasant surprise to find out that they lactate with just a smallest bit of stimulation. If you really wanna drive her crazy, have your fingers or a strap inside her as you suck on her tits. Bonus points if you team up with Cirrus and then take care of our dearest Cumulus.

Tornado (ze/zir; Papa Nihil's Ghoul)

We can't talk about Air Ghouls and not have at least one of them mess around with your breathing abilities, now can we? Fortunately for us, Tornado loves breath play. Sometimes it's just a light squeeze. Sometimes you almost think this maniac will actually suffocate you. Ze knows your limits, though, so it never gets out of control. The thrill is a very nice bonus to fucking zir, though.

Quintessence Ghouls

Omega (he/him)

Look at him. Look at this huge motherfucker. Pretty much anyone is tiny compared to him. And he loves that. He loves seeing your stomach bulge when you're full of him. He loves seeing how you struggle to take as much of him as you can. He loves how your face ends up stuffed in his chest as you straddle him because of his stupid huge cock. The size kink is strong with this one.

Delta (they/it)

Delta admittedly jokes about their missing limbs. One of said jokes was how easy it’d be to tie it up... the day it goes from joke to reality? Oh they’re on cloud nine. Turns out it was very into doing shibari on others before the limb loss... turning the tables on them? Well... it has a very pleasant night tied up all pretty with nowhere to go.

Aether (he/him)

Listen. I've always said he's got arms made for hugging, hands made for choking and a cock made for warming. I stand by that. His hands look and feel like they were meant for your throat. And you love it. It's best while he's got you in a reverse cowgirl position in front of a mirror, riding yourself stupid as he lightly squeezes your throat. But he's not picky. As long as you let him choke you a little.

Phantom (he/they/xey/it)

Spiritually, Phantom is a bit like a puppy when it comes to excitement. He gets really excited and it shows. They usually show it through playful nibbles. But... you wanna know what absolutely makes xem lose its mind? Praise. Phantom can die happily after being praised for how good he's doing for you. Praise them and it'll do absolutely everything for you. Xey can probably be praised into a happy, tearful orgasm like this.

Chaos (he/she/they/it; Papa Nihil's Ghoul)

If you've read the Papa Nihil's Ghouls post, you know she was dragged around on a leash a few times. The issue is, he actually loved that and now they demand to be kept on a leash... So yup, that evolved into a pet play kink. It will bark at you completely unprovoked for completely no reason and will continue being a menace until you handle it. So there's a pet play and brat taming combo here.

Multi Ghoul

Swiss (he/xey/it)

This bitch. Bully it. Swiss loves being bullied and degraded. It always makes both xeir cunt and cock drip with pre-cum. Keep him on his knees. Keep xem on a leash. Mock it for being so fucking eager to be pretty much verbally abused. You can probably get xem to cum untouched if you're mean enough.

Phil (he/him)

Phil is not a kinky guy, honestly. He's just... very vanilla. If you're with him long enough, you finally get to hear him mumble out the word mommy... And you absolutely fucking lose it with him. You don't let him live it down, obviously. He gets absolutely flustered every time you use his mommy kink against him.

Sunshine (she/her)

Sunshine's favorite thing about having a penis is having it buried inside their partner (she especially likes people with cunts since it shows really nicely), having them in her lap in a reverse cowgirl position and just... watching it all in the mirror in front of you both. Obligatory bites while she's at it, of course.

Aurora (she/they/fae)

While she doesn't mind being a pillow princess when bottoming, faer absolutely favorite thing is disinterest. She loves playing with your body and then scoffing and telling you to keep quiet. They absolutely love having you ride their thigh or rutting against it while she does other things. Fae just absolutely adores when you get whiney and start pleading for just a bit of her attention, even if you know they'll shame and degrade you for it.

~

Alpha, Ifrit, River, Zephyr and Delta written by Death.

Sodo, Blaze, Lake, Rain, Mist, Storm, Cliff, Pebble, Quake, Eurus, Cirrus, Cumulus, Tornado, Omega, Aether, Chaos, Phantom, Swiss, Sunshine, Phil and Aurora by Nosferatu.

Chain, Cowbell, Ivy and Mountain written by Zenith/Jasper.

Edited by Nosferatu.

Taglist: @charlie-is-a-menace @copias-fluffy-asscheeks @randodummy @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @calliedion-dungeon @randominstake @callmeicaro @thecuriouss @dio-niisio @the-fem1n1ne-urge @mybotanicaldemise @igodownjustlikeholymary @natoncesaid @bloodmoon-bites @plaquerat

[mixelation]

Rank gem!akatsuki by how hot their boobs are

i went to rank this but then i was like "but ALL tiddies are good tiddies??" so here are some thoughts followed by a poll.

deidara - i've clearly decided fem deidara has some huge gazoongas, some absolutely ridiculously knockers, and she has no issue styling and posing her honkers to be hot af. also, one has a tongue. can't lose with big tiddy deidara

sasori - sasori is in the itty bitty titty committee, but do not let this fool you into thinking her tits are low quality. sasori's boob's are handcrafted fair-trade artisan boobs. they are THEE most even boobs, THEE most carefully shaped to be perfectly symmetrical. her nipples? perfect. her cleavage? nonexistent but somehow hides some sort of flamethrower anyway

itachi - completely average boobs. itachi has never once thought about her own boobs as anything besides "put these things in the best sports bra possible, ye gad." would probably look hot af in a pushup bra but doesn't know about those and doesn't believe you when you tell her about them

kisame - most of kisame's tits are actually her pecs. yes she CAN flex them one at a time. yes you DO have to get her pretty drunk to see. they're blue. kisame fucks so she does own at least one top to show off her boobs. you're welcome

hidan - hates wearing shirts. everyone has seen her boobs. they are a pretty average size, and YES there is jiggle and YES hidan will let you look. you want bare tiddies covered in blood? well, do you, you pervert??? hidan is here for you. hidan delivers to you. shh, shh, calm down, this'll be great--

kakuzu - like kisame, has huge pecs to make her tits look perky. also wears a sexy little halter top. (do NOT call her top a sexy little halter top.) her boobs come with the possibility of them exploding into tentacles. so. huge bonus for monsterfuckers, i guess

pein - absolutely has pierced nipples. that's it that's my only thought.

zetsu - is a plant

tobi - whatever her tits look like, just keep in mind that multiple people have looked down at them and went, "yep, this truly IS the rack of uchiha madara. completely believable that madara would have that"

orochimaru - honestly probably objectively the best boobs, but we can't study them to be sure because seeing them will give you nightmares

[stevieharringtonwifeguy]

its @stevieweek day 5!!!! here's a modern vampire AU with some dom!stevie flavouring and eau de monsterfucking. amen.

wc: 1397 | rating M (for rampant sexual tension and simpism)

Eddie’s pretty sure he’s been pranked. He looks around the club as he sips his whiskey- it’s a nice place, kind of swanky, music loud enough to loosen inhibitions on the dancefloor but not so loud that you have to yell to be heard at the bar or in the velveteen little booths that line the edges of the room. There’s even a little stage area for live music or performances, currently unused, but he saw a flyer for a drag show while waiting in line and he’s actually considering coming back for that.

So while he’s not disappointed with the club itself per se, it’s not really what was promised to him.

Weeks ago, during a smoke sesh with the rest of the Corroded Coffin boys, Gareth had broken the news about a cool club he’d just discovered. “It’s a pretty cool place- kinda bougie and expensive, but the point is- the best part-”

Gareth had paused, wildly looking each of them in the eye. “It’s run by vampires.”

Obviously, everyone else had burst out laughing. “No the fuck it is not, Gare.”

“It is, I swear!” Gareth had said, completely straight faced, if not a little red from the mockery of his friends. Freak had almost passed out, he was laughing so hard. “My cousin- remember Chrissy? She goes there all the time! She said the owners run it to like- okay so obviously in, like, a Post-Twilight World, obviously there’s loads of people who’d love to get macked on by a vampire. So instead of, like, attacking people, they just. Let people come to them.”

“So it’s a vampire sex club.”

“Okay well when you say it, it sounds dumb. But essentially, yes. Vampire sex club.”

And so now Eddie was sitting in a club that was definitely not a vampire sex club. Sure, it’s kind of old-fashioned in a sort of swanky speakeasy way, and it uses a lot of red decor, but nothing else about it really screams vampire. There’s barely even any goth patrons, which he’d expect to be the main clientele of a vampire sex club. 

It was whatever. Honestly his main reason for coming was just because he trusted Chrissy’s judgement when it came to cool clubs.

He continues sipping his whiskey, leaning back against the bar and keeping an eye out for anyone pretty. Maybe turn this failed vampire sex venture into a successful regular human sex venture. Sure enough, a woman soon approaches the bar, and Eddie almost chokes on his drink.

She’s the most beautiful woman Eddie has ever seen. Miles of sun-kissed, mole-dotted skin revealed by a shimmery gold minidress, gorgeous chestnut waves cascading over one shoulder, and when she turns and catches Eddie’s eye he’s immediately lost in her honey coloured bedroom eyes.

Honestly, he barely even registers walking up to her, too busy cataloguing every inch of the woman before him to pay any attention to where he’s walking. She smiles as Eddie approaches, and he just about manages to avoid staring at her glossy pink lips for too long.

“Hi,” he says, smiling wide enough to show off his dimples. “I’m Eddie!”

“Stevie,” she says, as she shakes his offered hand, looking him up and down in a way that makes him feel like some kind of specimen on display. But like, in a pleasant way. A very pleasant way. “I haven’t seen you around here before. First time?”

“Yeah, actually. You a regular, then?”

Stevie smiles again, something indulgent. “Something like that. Can I buy you a drink?”

Eddie gladly accepts, and he and Stevie quickly grab their drinks and head to one of the curtained booths tucked into a corner of the club. Eddie nurses his whiskey as Stevie sips at her water (she says she doesn’t drink, but comes to the club for the ambience and the people, which Eddie can appreciate). As they talk, Eddie mentions knowing Chrissy, which makes Stevie light up as she recognises Chrissy from previous nights at the club. Apparently Chrissy’s got some kind of thing going with Stevie’s sister Robin, and they while away some time laughing over stories of their shared friend.

“So that’s what brought you here, then? Chrissy gave you a recommendation?” Stevie asks, tilting her head adorably. It draws attention to the line of her neck, and the pretty little moles that dot it in just the right place to kiss.

He wrenches his eyes back up to her face, where she’s smiling knowingly. “Well- okay. You can’t laugh.”

Stevie nods, crosses her heart, and schools her face into something overly serious. Eddie huffs a laugh of his own.

“Okay, so. My friend heard that, apparently, this place is a, and I quote-” Eddie takes a breath, scrunching up his face and quickly saying, “a vampire sex club.”

“A vampire sex club?” Stevie says. Eddie’s eyes are still closed, but he can hear the smile in her voice.

“Those were his words, yes.”

Fabric shifts, and Eddie opens his eyes to see that Stevie has leant forward a bit into his space, elbow on the table and chin propped up in her hand. She gazes at him with hooded eyes and a slight smile on her face, like she’s in on a secret. Eddie never wants her to look away. 

“And you thought you’d, what, come see? Watch maybe?”

“I mean, I guess I was hoping someone would get a bit of a bite in,” Eddie laughs, and is gratified to hear Stevie join in. “Just a little nibble! Like, what, is it a crime to wanna get your neck munched on by a hot vampire?”

“No, it’s very reasonable,” Stevie says with a laugh in her voice. She reaches forward and brushes some of Eddie’s curls off his shoulder, exposing his neck and fixing it with an appraising look that makes Eddie blush. “And it’s a lovely neck. Probably get a lot of offers.”

Eddie waves her away playfully. “I see how it is. You only want me for my neck.”

“Not just for that,” she says, leaning in a bit. “You wanna know a secret?”

She’s so close now, Eddie can probably count her every eyelash. Her perfume is amazing. Her hair is brushing his shoulder. He’s gonna die from horniness, and he’s completely okay with that. He abstractly nods in response to her question, and she smiles like he’s being a Very Good Boy. Which he absolutely is. He can be such a good boy.

“Well,” she whispers, pulling Eddie out of his increasingly X-rated thoughts and graciously allowing him to lean in even closer to hear her. “It’s not not a vampire sex club.”

Eddie tilts his head and makes a wordless noise of interest.

“There’s just the two of us, and any sex that happens isn’t actually in the club. Non-mandatory, but,” she looks Eddie up and down like she wants to eat him. Maybe she does. “It’s definitely on the table.”

Eddie’s gobsmacked. “Wha- really?”

Stevie nods, lips pulling back in a grin that shows off- yeah. Those are some very sharp teeth.

“Please,” he says, voice hoarse with want, the word practically tearing itself from his throat with very little input from his brain.

Stevie tilts her head, Cheshire-cat grin still in place, and Eddie feels very much like a mouse being batted around in her paws. “You gonna beg, baby?”

“Stevie, sweetheart,” he puts his hand over hers, hanging onto her like a drowning man would a liferaft. “I’d worship you like a goddess.”

He’s rewarded with a pleased hum, Stevie’s eyes darkening in a way that gets his own heartbeat quickening. She lays a gentle hand on his chin, turning his face this way and that like she’s inspecting a purchase, before leaning back with a considering nod like she’s come to a conclusion. “Yeah, you will, won’t you?”

With that, she stands up, leaving Eddie blinking up at her from his seat. Stevie smiles her ‘good boy’ smile at him, like she’s pleased to see him exactly where he should be. Below her, gazing up in awe and adoration. 

“Come on then, big boy,” she coos, and then walks briskly to the door. Eddie scrambles after her, barely remembering how to use his legs but powerless to do anything else.

He’s gonna have to buy Gareth a gift basket.