#seam-lamb
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ghost:
duke
squire
friend: An ally of their aspect. May manifest as another aspect, which they use to benefit their true aspect
milf
smith: Shapes their aspect
forge: The medium by which others shape their aspect
seam: Keeps their aspect intact. Without them (present? or alive?), their aspect frays and tatters into nothing
lamb: Only through the lamb's slaughter (or otherwise removal from relevance) can their aspect flourish
hound: Pursues aspect, though what they do is they succeed varies
faun: flees aspect, perhaps successfully. May overlap with Lamb, if they're caught.
Sage: who understands aspect qnd helps others do the same, but does little woth that knowledge themselves
started thinking abiut other classes. Can you tell i got more interested the later we got in this.
#seam-lamb#forge-smith#the seam keeps all of their aspect together through the session. with their death their aspect will begin to unravel and decay#only with the lamb's death/removal can their aspect flourish. dont be the lamb of time.#hound-faun#warbling#mine
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Saskia Reeves as the Prime Minister of the Royal Navy, In NTSF:SD:SUV's U'KO'ed episode!!!
Serving all the looks!!! 🔥😏🥰
With this one, because... is everyone super tall... or is she just super tiny?? 🤏🤏🤏
#catherine is the cutest#jackson x catherine#catherine#catherine standish#standish x lamb#lamb would approve of those stockings!!!#slow horses cast#slow horses#ntsf:sd:suv#prime minister#prime minister of the royal navy#cuban stockings#back seams#rocking body#rocking the uniform#little britain#san diego#saskia reeves
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here's my writing progress ! all of my actual thread replies except for 2 which I am most likely still going to write today are queued <3
#ii / ooc. the sacrifical lamb#I got a BUNCH done on silco today haha#maddie's inbox is still bursting at the seams but what else is new...
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do u and saitama sometimes mix up whos undies r whos 🎤
🎤 we definitely do. i think his boxers are comfy so i will mindlessly slip them on when im sleepy and not realize until later. saitama just dgaf and will wear mine if he can’t find his. he thinks they’re a lil tight but they work just fine in his opinion
#mine are so tight on him his ass is busting at the seams 😭😭😭😭😭#thank u for indulging me lamb hehe#you got mail!#sender: nanamimizz.#no.flex
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IN THE NETHERWOOD
PART II
KINKTOBER 2023 ♤ WEREWOLF!SANEMI X RED RIDING HOOD!READER
PART I HERE
A/N: I would apologize for the utter lack of plot, but we all know why you're here. You can have plot later; for now, enjoy some 9.5k words of pure monster porn. 13.4k words total.
CW: explicit sexual content • MDNI • werewolf fucking x F!Reader • knotting/mating • breeding • tummy bulging • so many creampies • like a concerning amount of cum • Sanemi half-transforms and has fangs/claws • slight blood mention • spit kink • oral sex (F!receiving) • Reader gets fucked stupid tbh • mildly violent/potentially upsetting content at the end but I don’t want to give anything away
You awoke the next morning not upon a bed of pine needles or curled against an overlarge piece of driftwood but cushioned against warm skin and rocky muscle.
Your eyes fluttered open, squinting against the watery light of morning, having not seen the sun since you’d first entered the Netherwood more than a week earlier. But the clearing by the river Sanemi had led you to the previous night meant fewer trees, and so, the dull gray of morning was visible above your heads where you’d slept curled atop the Huntsman’s broad chest.
You rolled your head against his sternum, peering up at the soundly sleeping Woodsman, admiring the peaceful serenity of his slumbering face.
His chest rose and fell steadily as he dreamed, and you could not stop yourself from allowing your hands to wander, to explore this Wolf who was to be your mate.
Your fingers began at his forehead, brushing his silvery strands back and exposing the cross-crossed scars lanced across his forehead. You traced each one, marveling at the shiny, smooth texture beneath your fingertips.
You danced your fingers over and down the features of his face and to the hollow of this throat. You then ventured lower, grazing over the thick scars rippling across the exposed portion his chest.
With a hard swallow, you allowed your hand to drop lower, teasingly traipsing down the ridges of his abdomen until you came to the waistband of his breeches.
Your eyes lowered to the seam of his pants, breath lodging in your throat at the rigid bulge that had formed at his groin.
You held your breath as your hand graced lower, your curiosity a tug in your gut not capable of being ignored.
Before you could brush your hand against the bulge, a warm hand snagged around your wrist, halting it in mid-air.
“Lamb,” Sanemi’s voice was thick with sleep but full of warning. “May I ask what you’re doing?”
Feeling bold, you threw a leg over Sanemi’s hips, rolling yourself atop him and pressing your groin flush against his, breath hitching as the rigid formation in his pants brushed against the sensitive spot between your legs.
“Wolf,” You mocked his tone, though your breaths were jerky and short. “Touch me again.”
A low growl reverberated from Sanemi’s throat, his fingers digging into the plush of your thigh, though you could not tell whether it was out of his wavering restraint or mounting desire.
When he did not move his hands, you bucked your hips against his, pushing against his groin in impatient demand.
Your name fell from his lips, choked and guttural. “If you keep doing that,” he ground out through clenched teeth. “I will not be able to stop myself.”
You leaned forward, lips grazing the vein protruding in his neck, savoring the way it thrummed under your touch. The blunt tips of Sanemi’s nails bit into your skin as he snarled against your neck.
You only smirked at his fraying restraint. “Then don’t.”
Sanemi gently but reluctantly pushed you off him, though his hands lingered against your waist, his fingers tracing circles.
“Didn’t your grandmother warn you never to provoke a hungry beast?”
“She may have, once,” you conceded with a sly grin, your fingers slipping below the waist of Sanemi’s breeches to tug him forward so that his hips were pressed against yours once more. “But I was never particularly good at listening.”
“A bad habit you’ve carried with you into the Wood, it seems,” the Huntsman agreed. “And you’ve made me quite ravenous, little Lamb.”
You squeaked as Sanemi’s hands braced around your waist and he promptly lifted you off him and plopped you unceremoniously on the pebbled shore beside him.
“But I, unlike you, possess a morsel of self-control.” He shot you a sly grin. “I can wait until we get to my den.”
“You certainly had no compunctions when it came to tasting me last night.” You grumbled.
Sanemi lifted an eyebrow as his lips quirked up in a smirk of his own. “And taste you again I shall,” he purred, sitting up. “But I want you spread out across across the floor of my den — not here, in the open.”
Sanemi rose to his feet and swiftly began gathering your supplies, preparing for the trek ahead.
“How is your wound?” He called conversationally as he fastened his traveling cloak around his shoulders.
You’d not given much thought to the gash Kaigaku had inflicted upon you the day before, and your stomach dipped at the thought of your skin stretching around the tender flesh.
Only, to your slight confusion, you really felt no pain at all; none of that burning, sharp aching you’d felt all the previous night until Sanemi had distracted you with his wicked fingers and even more wicked tongue.
“My leg!” You gasped, your skirts bunched in your hands as you pulled them back, damning propriety as you exposed its bare length to the Huntsman.
To your shock, all that remained of the wound inflicted by Kaigaku’s knife was a thin, reddish scar, as though the injury was several weeks old as opposed to mere hours.
You pressed the tips of your fingers against the thin stripe of skin, testing it. “It does not hurt, either!”
You looked back to Sanemi though he seemed nonplussed in contrast to your wide-eyed bewilderment.
“At least I won’t have to carry you anymore,” the Huntsman’s tone was teasing as he fastened his worn traveling cloak around his shoulders. “You constantly grabbing fistfuls of my fur was starting to get annoying. I thought you were going to leave behind bald patches.”
You gaped at him. “Does it not concern you that my wound magically healed itself overnight without a drop of medicine?”
“Not particularly, no,” Sanemi held out a hand to help bring you to your feet. “Not when it’s my mark you bear upon your skin.” He said with a naughty wink.
You accepted his assistance with a huff, secretly marveling over the calloused, steady warmth of his touch as you righted yourself. “It’s humbling to know that, despite you spending the evening with your head between my legs, you continue to be as vague and elusive as you were when we first began this journey.”
Sanemi, who had turned away to adjust the various knives he kept strapped on his belt and in his pouch whipped back around to you. He frowned at the bemused yet vexed expression you wore.
“I don’t mean to be withholding,” he said after a moment. “I am just — unaccustomed to this,” the Huntsman motioned back and forth between you.
You returned his frown. “Talking?”
“Ye — no,” Sanemi ground his teeth for a moment, struggling for his words. “It is not the conversation part I find difficult. That part has been easy — with you, at least.”
Your cheeks warmed as the Huntsman continued. “It’s the…intimacy of it.” He scrunched his eyebrows in thought. “Sharing the details of what I am with someone who does not already know them.”
Your irritation melted into something lighter, as a slow grin spread across your face.
“What?” He snapped.
“How serendipitous,” you said coyly. “You once found yourself irritated by my questions and now it seems you’re in need of them.”
Sanemi shook his head, muttering softly to himself as he secured his satchel around his shoulders and turned back, waiting for you to follow him back into the Wood. “Trust you to find amusement when I try to be serious.”
You only smiled as the pair of you set off, shoulder to shoulder, to begin your trek not towards any human village resting on the other side of the Netherwood, but to Sanemi’s den.
“What is a den anyway?” You kicked a small pebble, sending it skittering off into the brush. “Is it a literal wolf’s den?”
“A cave,” Sanemi’s tone was relaxed even as his eyes remained sharp, his nostrils flaring every so often to scent out any potential threat hidden in the shadows. “I s’ppose it is pretty close to what you think of when you consider wolves’ dens. We use them for mating, or for our heats.”
“You can go into heat without mating?”
“Aye,” he answered. “Our heats don’t happen often — maybe once or twice a year.” Sanemi looked back to you in thought. “I do find it ironic that our paths crossed right before a Blood Moon.”
You frowned. “And what is a Blood Moon?”
“Simply put, it is an eclipse,” Sanemi’s fingers moved to brush your cheek. “One that makes the moon appear crimson. But for wolves — cursed like me and those born — it is a time when our strength is at its peak; but we are also more unstable. Wild.”
You felt an excited chill pass over your skin. “But what does that have to do with your heat?”
The Huntsman only shrugged. “Blood moons can trigger heats behind the usual cycle; they can be stronger. More intense.”
“Which is why,” Sanemi reached over where you walked beside him and flicked your nose. “Your cloak is important, Lamb.”
“Speaking of that, you once warned me about the color of my cloak,” you frowned, pinching the fabric between your fingers. “You said red can symbolize many different things.”
“Aye, it can,” Sanemi held out a hand to help you over a particularly rocky bit of terrain, not letting go until he’d ensured you reached even ground. “I am surprised your Grandmother did not warn you of that.”
You felt slightly defensive of the old woman. “She may not have known. It’s an old cloak. It was an heirloom.”
“I highly doubt she did not know its import,” Sanemi disagreed, casting a sidelong glance your direction. “I told you it was enchanted. It has been acting as a ward against those in the Wood that would do you harm.”
“Cloaks like that are not just made and sold to unsuspecting villagers. Those who desire them, do so for specific reasons.”
You frowned, thumbing the fabric. “And what of the color? You’ve yet to tell me what the red means.”
Sanemi’s cheeks pinkened. “Red is an important color to wolves like me. It is the only color we can see.”
Your head whipped towards him with a soft gasp. “You mean — you cannot see other colors?”
The Huntsman shook his head, his eyes roaming the path before you. “Only the red of your cloak.”
“And its meaning?” You pressed.
Sanemi hesitated. “Red has been understood to be a mating signal. A declaration that one is unmarked but willing.”
You gaped at him. “So that day — the day we met,” you managed, your cheeks warming. “You thought I was — that I was offering myself to you?”
Rather than flush further, Sanemi laughed — a rich, velvety sound that filled you with warmth.
“No Lamb,” he said affectionately. “I didn’t think a scared little thing like you even knew what that cloak meant. Especially when you looked half-ready to pass out when you saw me.”
You crossed your arms self-consciously in front of your chest. “I’d been running for over a day, and the Wood is terrifying.”
The Huntsman’s hand found yours and he laced your fingers with his. “And yet you found me all the same. Perhaps the cloak worked.”
He lifted a hand to your shoulder, where his mark sat below the heavy fabric of the crimson hood. “After all, I am no longer taking you to another human village; I’m taking you somewhere so I can utterly defile you.”
Your thighs clenched together, his words sending excitement, coarse and hot, cascading through your veins. “It is not defilement when I am begging for your touch, Wolf.”
Sanemi tugged on your hand, pulling you against his chest and surprising you with a soft kiss, his thumb stroking your chin.
“Beg you shall, my darling Lamb.” He murmured against your lips. “So let us speed up our step so I can hear those sweet pleas.”
You giggled as Sanemi led you deeper into the Wood by your hand, your cheeks flushed pink and your stomach tittering with excitement at the prospect of what the moonrise would bring.
—-
It was late afternoon when Sanemi slowed to a stop.
You slowed beside him and followed his line of sight, looking down a small valley to see a series of small, interconnected rocky formations peppered throughout the ravine.
You exhaled softly. “Is that—?”
Sanemi nodded. “My den is just over there,” he pointed to a mass of moss-covered rock about halfway down the valley. “Though you cannot tell from this distance, it’s fairly deep on the inside.” He glanced down at you, eyes softening at the exhilaration upon your face. “We will not be disturbed.”
You tore your eyes away from the peaceful spread of land, the soft slopes of the mountainous terrain appearing so out of place with the murky darkness of the Netherwood. “And this is where you go every time you go into heat?”
“Aye, when wolves are unmated, it’s best for us to be alone,” Sanemi blushed slightly, a hand jumping to rub at the back of his neck. “To weather it alone, that is.”
Your hand found his and squeezed gently. “You won’t have to any longer.”
The Huntsman’s answering smile was warm as he tucked you into his side, kissing your hair.
“Come,” he said. “Let us get set up for the night.”
———
Sanemi had spoken the truth; though the cave had appeared small and unassuming from the outside, once he parted the thick ivy curtain which obscured the entrance from the sight of any wandering passerbys, you could see the mouth of the stone gave way to a comfortably large, rocky alcove.
The wall was set back about twenty feet from the cave’s entry. On one side, you spied a series of unevenly spaced ledges that Sanemi appeared to use as shelves, a cluster of odd-shaped packages wrapped in cloths of various fabrics resting upon the sediment.
Across from the little storage area was a thick pile of animal furs, soft and in pristine condition. Each was piled atop the other, creating a pad several inches thick that would serve as a barrier against the dirt-rock floor of the den.
Your eyes lingered on the pelts before you turned to Sanemi, head cocked in question.
Sanemi’s gaze darkened as it flitted between you and the furs. “A nest,” he explained, his voice turning to gravel. “To make the heat more comfortable.”
He paused for a moment. “Had I known I’d be finding myself a mate, I would have brought more. I was expecting to endure my heat alone —“
“It’s perfect,” you cut him off, hand covering his in assurance. “It’s all perfect.”
Sanemi brushed your hair back, hand caressing your face. He nodded towards the makeshift shelves on the opposite side of the nest. “Provisions,” he said. “I came here just before you found me to stock up on dried meat and fruits — and water.”
He nudged your foot shyly with his own. “And trust when I say you will need your sustenance.”
The suggestion in his tone was enough to make you step into him, heat pooling sensually in the depths of your stomach.
“Sanemi,” you whispered, and the Huntsman’s breath quickened. “Kiss me.”
Soft lips moved softly against your own, but it was not enough. With an eager gasp, you pressed forward, tilting your head to deepen the kiss, your teeth tugging at his bottom lip in silent request.
Sanemi opened, and your tongues melded together, both of you sighing deeply into the other as you breathed him in.
You walked him back, Sanemi allowing himself to be led to the edge of his nest. You pushed lightly on his chest, and he lowered himself, the Huntsman’s hands sliding down your waist and to your hips, tugging you down with him to straddle his lap.
Your legs wrapped around his waist as you rest against him. As the two of you settled against the soft furs of the den nest, the Huntsman’s hardening length pushing against the sensitive spot between your legs, causing you both to gasp.
The Wolf’s chest rose hard and quick as you pushed your hips down against his once more.
Sanemi was panting against your mouth as you ground down once more against his crotch, mewling at the way his hardening bulge connected with that spot between your legs that made your toes curl.
“You must keep your cloak on,” he managed to whisper against your throat as he nuzzled against your skin.
At the first sound of the whimper building in your throat, Sanemi pushed your hips down against him, rolling his clothed groin up into yours. “I will still remove your dress, little lamb,” He huffed a quiet laugh skimming your jaw with his nose. “But the cloak is for your safety.”
“I do not wish for you to take me safely,” you whined, “I want you to take me as your mate.”
The declaration that you intended to accept the bond made the huntsman groan, his grip on your hips tightening as the fabric of your dress gathered beneath his palms.
“Be careful what you wish for, woman,” he warned, nipping at the tender spot beneath your ear.
“I will mate you, little lamb, but you are human.” Sanemi pulled back to face you, a warm hand coming to rest against your face as he gently, but firmly, forced you to meet his eyes. “And it is the full moon; it will be hard enough to restrain myself from transforming while I take you, even with your cloak on.”
Sanemi’s eyes shut tightly and for a moment, it looked as though he was in pain. “But were I to shift while claiming you right now, I couldn’t guarantee that I wouldn’t harm you. It is a risk I will not take, lamb.”
A warmth spread through your chest at the consideration and care the roughened man continued to show you, even as his heat only continued to heighten, evidenced by the ever-growing swell beneath his trousers.
The flutter in your stomach was tempered as your mind processed his words. “But you will shift while taking me? One day?”
Sanemi hesitated for a moment before nodding, and it was a struggle for you to refrain from clenching your thighs together. The wolf’s eyes were concerned, if not timid, as they searched yours. “Does that frighten you?”
The only thing that frightened you was how excited you felt at the prospect of Sanemi fully transforming into his fearsome, powerful wolf form as he pressed you into the pelts of his bed, but you weren’t about to confess that to him right then.
So you only shook your head, your fingers rising to gently caress the scar jutting across his cheek. “No, my wolf; that does not scare me at all.”
A pale eyebrow quirked up as a small smirk pulled at Sanemi’s lips. “So I am your wolf now, little lamb?”
“If I am to be yours, then you are to be mine, no?” You kissed him again, moaning softly at the soft fullness of his lips as they moved easily against yours. “Doesn’t the mating bond go both ways?”
Sanemi’s eyes were full of wonder as they roamed your face. “It does,” he whispered. “What you feel, I shall also, and likewise.”
“Then that makes you, my wolf.” You answered simply, smiling slyly. You leaned down to kiss him once more, your arms winding around his neck. The Huntsman groaned, his hands roaming the curves of your body, until they came to rest against your chest.
“Allow me,” Sanemi said gently, fingers coming to unlace the stays on your outer corset. “I’d prefer for you to be undressed before the moon rises.”
You grinned. “You just want to see me bare.”
“Aye, that’s true,” the Wolf chuckled, the sound sending goosebumps over your skin as his fingers deftly unwinding the cords keeping the garment secured. “But I also don’t want you trying to skin me for having destroyed your only set of clothing in my haste to have you my way.”
You mocked a pout. “But the cloak must stay?”
“Yes, you seductive little thing; your cloak stays for your protection.”
You groaned, huffing in annoyance as Sanemi finally undid the last lace of your corset and cast it aside. He pushed you back to sit against the pelts, kneeling before you to unlace your boots.
Once he’d set aside the worn leather shoes, the Huntsman focused his attention on the pair of long wool socks that went just over your knees. You tried to keep from squirming as his warm hands brushed against the bare skin above the tops of your socks, but the Wolf seemed intent on teasing you as much as possible. As he worked each sock slowly down your leg, he allowed his fingers to teasingly drag along the sensitive skin of your upper thighs.
You fought the urge to clench them together, your teeth gnashing together as you willed yourself not to shiver beneath his tantalizing touch. But you could not control the rush of arousal which flooded you, and your cheeks turned scarlet at the way Sanemi’s nostrils flared slightly, scenting you, a cocky smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“So eager, little Lamb,” he simpered, allowing his fingers to drop to the space above one of your newly exposed ankle and massaging it. “So enticing.”
You glowered at him. “You know precisely what you’re doing, and I won’t fall for your little game.”
It was a lie, and you knew it as well as he, for all it took was a quick press of his lips against the crease between your shin and knee to have you whimpering, hips involuntarily bucking as you grew desperate for him to continue.
“It would not take much for me to have you begging, Lamb,” Sanemi warned, eliciting a gasp from you as he nipped the sensitive skin of your thigh. “Be grateful I will be in no mood to tease once the moon rises.”
You whined as Sanemi’s hands removed your skirts one at a time, and then your shift, slowly peeling back each of your layers until you were bare beneath him.
He pulled away once, to remove his cloak and the billowy linen shirt he wore, and then his boots. Left in nothing but his breeches, he knelt before you on the pelts, covering your trembling body with his warm solid form.
Your fingers jumped to the ties on his breeches, but Sanemi jerked his hips out of the way. At your small whine, he chuckled, his lips beginning a descent down your body from your neck.
“I first need to taste you,” he said simply between the soft nips he trailed down your torso, breaking up each prick of his teeth with alternating licks of his warm tongue.
Your small pout was quickly chased away by the electrifying sensation of Sanemi’s lips drifting closer and closer to where you wanted him most and you settled back against the furs, a tiny smile tugging at your mouth.
You spread your legs wider to accommodate his mass, so lean yet so solid, the muscles on his chest looking as though they’d been carved from the finest stone by only the most skilled of masons. Against the flickering light of the small fire he’d lit inside the cave, Sanemi’s hair was reminiscent of starlight, and his eyes, locked steadily with yours, glimmered like two, precious stones.
His mouth trailed lower, sweeping across your hipbones as he drew nearer to your core, Sanemi groaning softly as he scented your arousal where it pooled between your legs.
Your hands drifted to your naked breasts, your fingers pinching and tugging at your soft peaks as you nudged your hips forward, silently begging Sanemi to bestow upon you the same pleasure he’d given you the night before.
The Huntsman did not need a great deal of convincing. Hands wrapping around your thighs to hold you wide open, he surged forward and latched his mouth to your eager cunt.
Sanemi devoured you like a man starved.
He was sloppy; his face was pressed firmly against your center, jaw working furiously as his tongue lapped between your folds before dipping inside of your entrance, savoring the way your tight walls cinched around the wet appendage, before he pulled out and repeated the movement. The sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs could not rest, not between alternating brushes of the tip of his nose and the graze of his teeth as feasted.
Every so often, he would pull back, leaving only the tip of his tongue flicking against your bead, his face shiny with your slick, as he watched your face, the way your eyebrows knit and how your lips parted to let loose your breathy, desperate whimpers and pleas for more. But that brief moment of respite as he observed you rarely lasted more than a few thunderous beats of your heart before the Huntsman swooped down upon you once more, thrusting his tongue deep into your entrance and curling up, brushing against a spot within you that had you screaming his name.
One hand gripped your thigh harshly, his nails digging into the soft inner skin as he pulled you harder against his mouth, groaning between lewd slurps and smacks against your cunt. The other made its way towards your entrance, his fingers dragging lightly over the soft, fatty underside of your backside before settling at your opening, teasingly circling it.
“I can see you clenching,” he muttered between harsh sucks at your pearl. “Do you long to be filled, Lamb?”
Speech was difficult, but you managed to nod desperately your throat remembered how to make sound. “Y-yes!” You could hardly hear yourself over the roar in your ears as you chased that ascendant feeling building steadily in your gut. “P-please, Sanemi — I feel so…s-so empty —“
The Wolf seemed to be in a charitable mood, for he swiftly plunged two of his fingers into your core, burying them right down to the joint. Half a beat later, and Sanemi crooked those thick, calloused digits, fingertips massaging your inner walls until your thighs vibrated around his head, and his name left your mouth in a small shriek.
The Huntsman’s lips latched around your sensitive nub, alternating between sucking and licking, making you writhe against the furred pelts of the nest. The thumb of the hand working steadily at your entrance stretched up the length of your cunt, pressing firmly against your pearl and rotating in small circles, so he could continue to stimulate you even during those brief few seconds when his mouth would pull away from you so that he could swallow your juices like it was the finest nectar.
Your cries bounced off the walls of the cave den, the coil in your cut winding tight, your entire body shaking beneath the furious ministrations of Sanemi’s mouth against your cunt.
Sanemi’s head dipped down to plunge his tongue into your opening, right alongside his fingers and you came undone, the soft pelts beneath you disappearing as your body ascended high through the clouds of your pleasure.
Sanemi moaned as he drank from you, his free hand moving from your thigh to your hips to help you grind against his face, his eyes rolling back slightly as he savored your sweet taste.
Your dizzying high gradually guttered out, letting you drift softly back down against the pelts, your skin covered in a thin sheen of sweat.
The Huntsman imparted two, final licks against your hyper-sensitive folds before drawing back, his tongue running over his lips to collect the last traces of your juices that still lingered around his mouth.
“When we get home,” Sanemi’s voice was husky, as he brought the fingers he’d hand inside you to his mouth, his tongue carefully cleaning your essence from his digits. “You are to spend an entire day sitting upon my face while I feast. You will not move until I’ve had my fill.”
His vow made your stomach flutter and your mouth go dry. “You mean that was not enough?”
Sanemi’s answering grin was wolfish. “Not in the slightest, Lamb. You provoke a hunger in me that I fear cannot be sated.”
He leaned down over you, hand firmly cupping your jaw to part your lips as he slotted his mouth over you. His tongue slid into your mouth to caress yours, and you moaned at the musky, sweet taste of yourself still on his lips.
He broke the kiss with a wet smack. “So we shall start with a day and see how well you please me. If I am still unhappy, then you shall have to remain there until I am otherwise satisfied.”
“And what of my satisfaction, Wolf?” Sanemi’s grin only widened at your challenge. “So far, I’ve heard talk of only yours.”
The Huntsman’s fingers grazed your dampened slit, still so sensitive from what he’d done with his mouth that you hissed lightly, as he covered your body with his own.
“Have I not pleased you enough, sweetling? My sincerest apologies.” He mocked, rolling his clothed groin against your bare one. He dipped his head low, sucking one of your breasts into his mouth before kissing his way up your neck to your chin, stopping to let his lips just hover above yours. “We shall see if you’re still feeling so cheated once my cock is buried inside you, hm?”
The reminder of what was about to transpire in a matter of minutes as the sun dipped lower and lower below the horizon outside the cave stilled you, momentarily breaking through the lusty haze in your mind.
“Sanemi,” the seriousness in your tone drew the Huntsman to a halt, his eyes flicking to yours, his hands stilling.
You gulped. “It will hurt, will it not?”
Sanemi’s eyes softened, and his fingers began rubbing soothing circles into your skin, his touch gentle. “It will at first, yes.”
You nodded. “Do you think — can we start before moonrise?” Your hands found his and squeezed, pleadingly. “If it is going to hurt, I would prefer to do it before your heat sets in.”
Sanemi’s hand pulled away from your grasp to hold the side of your face, tilting your head until you had to meet his gaze.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Sanemi’s fingers were delicate as they caressed the curve of your cheek. “You do not owe me anything; I would not dream of asking you to do anything you did not want.”
You parroted his touch by stroking a thumb softly over the scar that crossed his cheek. “I am certain that I want you, Wolf.” You leaned in and pressed your lips gently against his before pulling back. “I ask only because I want that moment to belong to you. Not as my mate, but as the man I’ve chosen to spend my days beside.”
“So please,” you entreated, pressing yourself closer against your Huntsman, your other hand toying with the faint trail of silver hair that spread across his bared pectorals. “Before you claim me as your mate, make me yours, Sanemi.”
The Huntsman’s breath was ragged. “All right, then,” one warm hand wrapped around your waist, its heat somehow burning through the layers of your skirts and shifts. “As you wish, Y/N.”
There was a beat as Sanemi nuzzled your nose with his. “But the cloak stays on.”
He chuckled at your small harrumph, quieting you with the sweetest of kisses, his thumb stroking your cheek. “Nice try,” he murmured against your lips, before rolling you beneath him.
Sanemi kissed his way down your body, a low growl vibrating in his chest as he neared your waiting core, but he held back, pulling off you to raise up on his feet, his hands coming to rest against the front laces of his breeches.
The Huntsman held your heated gaze as he slowly unlaced the leather cord securing his breeches. Without breaking the connection, Sanemi leisurely worked the soft deer hide down his hips and over his thighs, unveiling his toned lower abdominals and strong, muscular thighs.
Your eyes traced over every ridge and dip of the Huntsman’s nude body, cheeks growing hotter and hotter as your gaze dipped down lower.
There was that faint, silvery trail of hair that began just below his navel that had first made you view the Huntsman in a different light, all those days ago. That trail led down past his hips, right where the evidence of his desire stood proud, and waiting.
Sanemi’s manhood was thick and long, its tip level with his navel. It was a few shades darker than the rest of his skin, the head a pinkish color that seemed to grow deeper the longer you stared, as though sensing the events about to unfold and eager to move them along.
You’d seen him nude before, but this time was different. For now, Sanemi’s nakedness was about to belong to you as much as yours was to belong to him.
Sanemi turned slightly to the side to discard his breeches, placing them atop the many layers of your skirts and shift. From that angle, you spied a faint hump near the base of his length, almost imperceptible in the orange, flickering light of the cave, that you nearly mistook it for a trick of the shadows.
“Is that —?” Your voice faltered with your blush.
Sanemi’s answering smirk set off a flurry of butterflies in your stomach. Though you’d seen him in a far more compromising position between your thighs, his beauty still had a habit of catching you off guard.
“Aye,” his voice was both silky and rough as he drew closer to you. “That will be my knot, once it fully forms.”
The Huntsman knelt down beside you on the soft pelts covering the den nest, lowering himself to graze his lips against yours. “But don’t worry about that right now, sweetling.” Sanemi then shifted so that he was hovering over you, a knee wedging between yours to help guide your legs open as he settled into the cradle of your thighs.
His lips ghosted against the side of your neck. “Just focus on me.”
You nodded, breath catching in your throat as his warm weight settled against you. You hissed at the feeling of the tip of his manhood brushing against your slick folds, a spark of pleasure jolting through you like a lightening bolt.
Above you, Sanemi ground his teeth, a tendon popping in his neck as he exhaled sharply. “Christ,” he ground out, repeating the sliding movement of his velvety head against your core. “I pray your cloak is enough, sweet girl. Because I don’t know how I’m going to hold back when you already feel this good.”
The mark on your neck pulsed with a simmering heat that only sent another gush of fluid between your legs. You mewled for him, fingers tugging lightly at his silver locks as you bucked your hips upwards, your body nearly thrumming with your need to be filled by the thick, searing length tracing up and down your folds.
Sanemi moaned. “Alright,” he said, exasperated but his voice shook. “Needy little thing.”
One hand skirted down the length of your thigh, gripping behind your knee to wrap your leg around his hips. The Huntsman’s other hand moved to grip the base of his manhood, lining it up with your entrance. Sanemi’s eyes lifted once to yours in silent question, and anticipation fluttered in your gut.
“Please,” was all you could say, breathy and desperate. “Please.”
As the head of his cock pushed into you, Sanemi rattled out a gasp, his eyes screwing tightly shut as he panted hard above you.
“L-lamb,” he stuttered even as he continued to breach your walls. “You’re so soft…so warm.”
You cried out at the way pleasure and a faint discomfort blended together into a pinching pressure as the Huntsman worked himself into you, his muscles trembling. The thick, blunt tip of his cock pushed against an inner barrier within you, and your belly clenched in anticipation as Sanemi paused the sinking of his hips into yours. His head dipped to the crook of your neck, right where he’d seared his claim into you, and he began to brush his lips against it, caressing the raised skin with his tongue.
The stimulation of your mark sent a flood of warmth trickling through you, relaxing your tensed limbs and allowing your body to open up to him — this Wolf, who was committed to making you his for good.
Your cry of discomfort melted into a deep moan of desire as your head tilted to the side, exposing more of your neck to the Wolf’s feverish mouth. With a growl of approval, Sanemi surged his hips forward and finally pushed past that thin, inner barrier, embedding himself to the hilt within your spasming walls. The flash of pain from his breach caused you to tense for a breath, your core pulsing at the intrusion. But then Sanemi’s fingers were there, working the nub between your legs to chase away any lingering discomfort as he pressed open-mouthed kisses against your neck, murmuring soft praises.
Pleasure bloomed beneath Sanemi’s skillful touch as the last of the burning subsided. Your breath eased as you relaxed in his embrace, shyly rolling your hips against his to signal you were ready for more.
He pulled back, eyes searching yours. “Are you alright, sweetling?”
Your hands clawed at his back, trying to press the Huntsman closer to you, despite the way your bodies were pressed flush together. “Y-yes,” you managed, your breath stuttering as Sanemi shifted above you, the movement stimulating a spark of heat between your legs.
“M-more, Sanemi,” you moaned, fingers digging into the grooves of the muscles of his shoulders. “Please, more.”
He nodded with a groan, an arm shifting to wrap around your waist to hold you up against him. With his face buried in the crook of your neck, Sanemi began to move, his hips rolling into yours and pushing his manhood deeper and deeper into you.
“Lie back, sweet Lamb,” he murmured in your ear as he rolled into you once more. “Let me make you feel good.”
You couldn’t imagine how much better the Wolf was capable of making you feel than he was at that moment, with every lurid push of his length into your tight heat, but you weren’t about to question his abilities. With a quiet moan, you fell back away from him and against the soft pelts of the den nest, your arms dropping from his shoulders and coming to rest above you, against the furs.
“Fuck, just like that,” Sanemi’s gaze darkened as he beheld the way your position arched your lower back slightly, raising your peaked breasts higher up, your nipples stiff and desperate for stimulation. “You’re so good, little Lamb. So good for me.”
The Huntsman’s gentle praises made your thighs clench and warmth pool in your lower belly. Sanemi leaned forward with a sigh, running a hand up the length of your arm to grip one of your wrists to press it down into the nest. The other returned to your hip, angling you slightly in a way that allowed him to sink even deeper into your syrupy heat.
He lowered his head to wrap his lips around one of the sensitive buds of your breast, tugging it lightly between his teeth. “Gods, Lamb, you’ve no idea what you do to me,” he groaned. “It’s taking — fuck — everything in me not to tear this cloak off you and rut into you like the beast I am.”
You nearly whined at that, drawing upon every ounce of self control within you to not admit that was exactly what you wanted — Sanemi, unrestrained and utterly wild. You locked your ankles against his backside and used all the strength in your legs to push him into you, bucking your hips in tandem with his. “Sanemi, please, I need more —“
He answered with a pointed thrust of his hips, choking you off with a gasp.
“Is that so?” Sanemi’s breath was hot against your ear, and a shiver jolted down your spine at the faint growl that tinged his words. He shifted your legs so that they were wrapped higher around his hips, the fat of your backside resting against his sturdy thighs. “Then you better hold on tight, little Lamb.”
The Huntsman locked a muscled arm around your waist and moved his hand to grip both your wrists, pinning them above your head.
His lips crashed down against yours as Sanemi began to thrust into you with a steady rhythm, each push of his length into your spasming core as precise and fluid as the Huntsman had proved himself to be in the Wood. Only now, he was not faced with an opponent, but with something far more tantalizing — something he desired far more to dominate.
You.
And you were only happy to give into him, what with the way his cock charted previously unexplored places deep inside you, repeatedly brushing against spots that had your mouth falling open and stars appearing in the corners of your eyes.
Sanemi’s tongue slid into your mouth as his hands moved to arch your back further, your legs rising higher on his waist until they were locked just under his ribcage, the Huntsman bearing more of his weight down upon you and pressing you harder into his nest.
You pulled away from his lips, your breath ragged. “I - I f-feel,” you tried to babble, though your mouth struggled to form coherent words against the symphony of moans and whimpers that each push of Sanemi’s length into you dragged out.
Sanemi’s lips moved down your neck and danced across your throat. “How do you feel, Lamb?” He cooed, the tip of his incisor brushing against the hollow of your throat, his pace only increasing with every deep plunge of his length into your silken cavern.
Your eyes fluttered shut even as your eyebrows knit together, the knowledge of how to properly speak nothing more than a distant memory.
“F-full,” you managed to pant after a moment. “So — ah — full, Sanemi.”
Amidst the sounds of your breathy moans and Sanemi’s rugged pants and snarls, a pointed, wet schlick began to echo off the walls of the cave den as Sanemi continued to build his rhythm, his cock nearly pulling all the way out of your honeyed heat before he plunged it right back in, hitting you so deep, you wondered whether he might be able to touch your very soul.
Your moans grew louder as that familiar coil began to tighten behind your navel, just above where you felt the tip of Sanemi’s length begin to twitch within you.
Sanemi stuttered out a broken groan of your name. “My sweet, sweet girl —“
“I love you!” you gasped, the thick, pleasured fog in your head unable to keep the words from tumbling out of your mouth. “Ngh — I love you — fuck, Sanemi!”
The Huntsman only growled in response, his hands digging into your hips to pull you to meet his thrusts, his hips snapping faster against you.
Just outside the mouth of the den, the clouds parted and the moon’s silvery rays filtered through the small cracks in the earthen wall of the cave.
Sanemi’s thrusts stuttered as his body suddenly seized. His head was thrown back, the tendons and muscles in his neck rigid with strain, while his chest heaved, struggling to take a breath.
The fingers digging into your hips tightened and you cried out at the sharp prick of nails sinking into your soft flesh. At the sound of your voice, Sanemi’s hands pulled away to reveal fingers now with long, curved nails.
His claws.
A choked, strangled noise that was somewhere between a groan and a howl ripped from Sanemi’s throat as he shuddered violently above you. The tremors sent faint vibrations right to where the two of you were connected, sparking new yet short-lived waves of pleasure rippling through your core. you mewled at the loss of stimulation as the huntsman stilled once more, desperately wanting him to start moving again to ease the burgeoning friction between your legs.
Your hips involuntarily twitched up against his and Sanemi’s head snapped down, his attention now wholly focused on you, writhing below him.
The first thing you noticed were his eyes.
No longer did they reflect the soft lilac that you’d come to find comfort in; that regarded you with a curious gentleness that often contrasted with Sanemi’s gruff and scarred countenance.
Now, the eyes that watched you from above had faded to a startling silver that glowed nearly as bright as the fat moon which hung just outside the mouth of the den.
But his eyes were nothing compared to the fangs that had formed on both his upper and bottom rows of teeth.
Sanemi’s incisors had lengthened, the upper pair extending nearly to his lower lip. The teeth tapered out to sharp points, glistening in the moonlight with a promise of violence to anyone who might find themselves at their mercy.
He had warned you that it would be difficult to keep himself from shifting while he mated you, but you’d assumed that the presence of your cloak would keep him in his human form. It seemed, however, that the magical protection afforded by the Ruby red wool draped around your shoulders, still could not fully temper the beast within.
Especially when that beast was in the thick of his heat and claiming you as his mate.
Still embedded deep within your heat, apparently oblivious to the growing friction that caused you to squirm, Sanemi’s nostrils flared and his eyes dropped to the sides of your hips. His pupils contracted, a deadly glint igniting within his silver pools, as he beheld the thin rivulets of blood which had gathered and crested beneath the marks left behind by his claws.
A growl, low and dangerous built in his throat at the sight of the crimson, but the arm wrapped around your waist tightened in silent apology.
His free hand rose to cup your jaw and he squeezed, forcing your mouth to fall open. Sanemi leaned over you, his tongue falling out of his mouth where you could see he’d gathered some of his saliva, and he let it drip past your parted lips. You accepted the fluid, warm and slightly sweet, as it pooled in your mouth until all that connected his lips with yours was a single, clear string of saliva that broke as Sanemi spoke once more.
“Swallow,” his voice was gruff and tinged with an animalistic snarl.
You obeyed, and Sanemi huffed in approval, his eyes lowering once more to your sides, waiting.
The skin around the marks left behind by Sanemi’s claws grew warm and then tingled before the sensation quickly faded away. Curious, your hand fluttered to the outer curve of your right hip, fingers seeking out the tender, bleeding skin. With a soft gasp, you realized all that remained on your flesh were drying flakes of your blood.
Your eyes flew to Sanemi’s in surprise, and the wolf nodded.
His half-shifted form was apparently only able to speak a single word at a time. “Healed,” he confirmed, tongue darting out from between his lips to lick alongside your neck. “Healed.”
The huntsman’s nose moved to press flush against the soft spot beneath your ear, inhaling deeply. Your breath hitched at the sudden, light graze of his fangs against the curve of your collar bone, accompanied by a distinct wetness that pooled just beneath it.
Sanemi breathed into you again, his corresponding groan deep and possessive, and it occurred to you that in this half-shifted form, he was scenting you, needing to confirm that you were the one he’d marked; the one who was accepting his mating bond.
And your scent was making him drool.
“Mate,” he growled, dragging his nose down your neck to the hollow of your throat where your pulse thrummed. Your breath caught in your throat as the tip of one of his fangs grazed the delicate skin, and you realized it would take no effort for the wolf above you to pierce your neck and claim your life.
It would’ve frightened you, had you not realized that Sanemi was continuing to hold still above you. He remained that way, even though it was likely every instinct he had was screaming at him to move, to mark to, to claim you, especially when he was already sheathed deep within the sanctity of your walls. His restraint was palpable, given how he trembled, even as you felt his cock twitch within you, desperately seeking to fill and breed.
“Mate?” Came his snarl once more tinged by the faintest uncertainty as he awaited your response.
If you wanted him to stop, you had no doubt his will would overcome his base instincts, and he would pull away.
But you didn’t, and so you merely breathed, “Yes, wolf. I am your mate.”
A dark hum of approval rippled from Sanemi’s chest and he answered with a deep push of his hips. You gasped, hitching your legs higher on his waist and you swore it felt as though his cock had somehow grown hotter, thicker, as he began his rut.
But Sanemi in heat did not want your legs wrapped around him; he wanted you submissive, utterly at his mercy as he claimed you as his mate, and so, he flipped you to your hands and knees with a supernatural dexterity that left you breathless.
Clawed hands came to rest on your hips and dragged you back to him, carefully folding the hem of your cloak up and back to expose your rear end to the Wolf’s hungry gaze. One hand left to push against your upper back, pressing you into the soft pelts of the mating nest, while the other tilted your hips until your backside was in the air.
Your stomach clenched at the hot exhale of air that blew against your cunt, thighs squeezing together at the sound of Sanemi scenting you with a deep intake of breath.
“Pretty,” Sanemi marveled, the calloused pad of his index finger swiping along the slick folds of your core, causing your muscles to clench, desperate to be filled once more.
His voice took on a darker edge. “Mine.” He growled, and your head fell forward with a throaty moan as Sanemi’s tongue flattened against your folds for a strong lick.
His mouth only caused your essence to gush once more, and this pleased him, given the contented humming that sent vibrations rocking through you, loosening a desperate cry from your throat.
The sound of your desperation seemed to spark something in the wolf at your back, for Sanemi suddenly tore his mouth away from you and rose to his knees. You were about to turn to beg him to touch you again, when you felt the hot, leaking tip of his cock press into your entrance, slipping past that first ring of muscle before stilling.
Sanemi left his clawed hands on your hips and shifted his weight to let his knees knock your thighs together. Tilting your hips even more, Sanemi then rose up, the head of his cock still tucked safely inside you, and planted one foot on either side of your knees, coming to a squat.
And then, Sanemi began to fuck you once more.
Your thighs trembled beneath you as Sanemi’s cock stretched and filled you, reducing you to no more than a quivering puddle of your own arousal and desperate need to be claimed.
With every relentless push of his cock, with every pointed slap of his groin against your backside, you were reminded that at the end of this, there would be no part of you that remained wholly yours. Sanemi fucked himself into every crevice, every nerve that made up you, his cock chasing away anything that could not be marked by him.
You did not exist for yourself; you existed only for his pleasure and to take his knot.
“Mine,” Sanemi growled, over and over, with every bruising thrust into you, as the swelling base of his cock pressed closer and closer to your entrance.
He was too fast; Sanemi fucked into you at a pace so brutal, it was all you could do to continue holding your hips up, fingers desperately digging into the soft pelted blankets for purchase as every drive of the wolf’s hips made you bounce.
“Mine, mine, mine,” Sanemi chanted, each reminder punctuated by the possessive thrust of his cock into your drooling cunt, so forceful that you struggled to take a breath.
It felt like heaven.
“Yes,” you half-groaned, half-screamed into the fur below you. “Y-yours! Your mate!”
Your words only seemed to make him grow more feral and desperate, his hips snapping even harder against you as his engorged cock threatened to tear you apart from the inside, out.
One of his hands left your hip and you nearly whined, needing to feel him everywhere you couldn’t touch. You chanced a glance over your shoulder, just in time to see Sanemi raise his thumb to his mouth to bite the long, thick curved tip of his claw clean off. His thumb now resembling that of an ordinary man’s, Sanemi brought it right between your legs, pressing down against the series of nerves at the apex of your thighs that made you howl.
Even in the thick of his heat, your pleasure was his priority.
“Oh gods, oh gods,” your voice trembled in time with your body as the pressure in your navel built, much faster than it had before, the walls of your cunt fluttering harder around the thick, bulbous length of the wolf bent over your back. “Sanemi!”
The wolf’s thumb swirled around your bud more insistently, his cock throbbing as he shoved it deeper and deeper into you. From your position on your knees, chest firmly smushed against the pelts of the den nest, you began to feel the soft furs lightly graze against the skin of your stomach, though the lower half of your body was largely still suspended above the ground.
Not even your mind-numbing pleasure could stymie your curiosity as your hand drifted down your abdomen until it met a hard, bulging lump that throbbed just below your navel.
A lump that pulsed in time with every vicious thrust of the wolf’s hips against your backside. With a strangled gasp you pressed down, palm cupping around the thick, protruding head of Sanemi’s cock from the outside as it battered you from within.
The pressure made Sanemi tip his head back, a pleasured snarl rumbling from deep within his chest. His hips stuttered once, causing his heavy, full balls to slap right against your swollen bead and you came undone.
The walls of your core seized around the Wolf’s cock with a dizzying force, your limbs locking up as a euphoric scream tore your throat raw, and tears sprang into your eyes. Your cunt pulsed around his length, a gush of your sticky pleasure surging forth to cost him and his groin, the scent mixing with the heady, thick musk that permeated the air of the den.
Your eyes strained as they rolled deeply back into your head, your brain only vaguely registering the way Sanemi inhaled deeply behind you, a cross between a whine and a groan falling from his lips.
Sanemi’s hips gave one final, mighty push of his cock deep into your womb before you felt a sudden explosion of hot, sticky warmth flood you as Sanemi’s own climax ruptured.
You felt his seed fill you, a stray bead just managing to eke out from where the two of you were joined to trickle teasingly down your inner thigh. You wouldn’t have paid it any mind, but Sanemi growled lowly at it, as though the single drop of his milky pleasure managing to evade capture within your tight warmth was something to mourn.
Several moments passed, and yet Sanemi’s length remained rigid and spurting inside you, only prolonging your own release. As he spilled, Sanemi’s hips lurched forward once more, somehow pushing his cock deeper into your core as it spasmed around him with the last fading waves of your pleasure. But that pleasure was quickly replaced by a burning stretch as something hot and hard and thick bumped up against your entrance.
With a grunt, Sanemi nudged it forward and the hardened gland slipped into your hole, eliciting a mix between a scream and a moan from you that was only muffled by the fur against which you’d buried your face.
His knot, you realized, as your walls tried to rebel against the intrusion and push it out. Your swollen, aching cunt, however, was no match against the heavy, bulbous weight of the plug determined to keep every bit of the hot seed still spurting from Sanemi’s cock locked deep within you.
Several more moments passed as you remained pinned beneath the Wolf, his knot locked snugly within your cunt as he sighed and mewled above you, his lips grazing the back of your neck and shoulders. As your womb began to feel slightly bloated from the volume of hot, viscous seed with which Sanemi filled you, you began to finally feel his cock soften, and the burning stretch of your walls around his knot started to lessen as it slowly shrunk.
As his knot finally ebbed, Sanemi’s cock slipped out, only a small trail of his seed behind it, trickling lightly down your thigh.
His chest pressed harder into your back and you both fell forward, collapsing against the soft pelts cushioning the floor of his den, panting.
Your cheeks were flushed a bright red and your eyes were glassy, every inch of you trembling from the intensity of your joining. To quiet the thunderous beat of your heart against your sternum, you concentrated on on the feeling of his seed, thick and heavy, as it sloshed within your womb.
Soft lips grazed your still-burning mating mark before they moved softly down your spine as Sanemi’s weight lifted from your back. Warm, gentle hands gripped your hips and eased you flat against the nest before turning you over, your body boneless beneath his touch.
Sanemi’s fingers brushed your hair from your face, his eyes full of concern as his hand caressed your cheek. “Are you okay, my lamb?”
It took a surprising amount of effort to remember how to nod your head, and enough time passed that Sanemi lurched over you, his eyes wide as a worried call of your name echoed over the roar in your ears.
“I’m fine,” you managed after a moment, your voice a faint warble as your hands searched for him, needing the warmth of his skin to bring you back down to earth. “I promise I’m okay.”
You took a deep breath and allowed your eyes to slide shut, your face turning to nuzzle deeper into his palm as it rest against your temple. Sanemi’s fingers continued to brush your hairline, over and over, in an effort to soothe you.
When you opened your eyes again, you felt steadier; more grounded. You finally met his worried gaze, his irises having faded back to that delicate lilac hue you loved rather than the glowing silver they’d been during your rut.
But as you shifted beneath him, you felt another gush of his seed leak out of you, and the way it trickled down the curve of your ass before pooling on the fur beneath you made your core pulse once more.
Sanemi’s eyes flickered silver as the embers of your arousal caught once more, and your thighs clenched in anticipation.
Your hand found the back of his neck and gripped it firm, tugging his head back down towards you until your lips nearly touched. Sanemi’s breath was warm and sweet as it fanned over your face. Slowly, your other hand trailed down his chest, savoring the way his muscles rippled and tensed beneath your soft caress.
Your fingers found his still-stiffened member and they closed around it, giving him one, strong pump.
“Again.” You ordered, and your thighs fell open, the full scent of your arousal mixed with the muskiness of his seed making Sanemi’s nostrils flare, his pupils narrowing to slits as he growled in reply.
—————
Hours passed, and the sun had long since risen and begun its descent in the west, but Sanemi’s heat had still not subsided.
The periods of Sanemi’s lucidity gradually grew in length with every small break between his knot finally subsiding and his heat reigniting. The last break had lasted long enough for Sanemi to bring you several strips of dried meat and a handful of dried fruit, along with a skien of water that he had to help hold to your lips as you slurped greedy mouthfuls of the cool, spring water. You hadn’t had much of an appetite, given the way your stomach seemed to bulge slightly from the amount of seed he’d already given you, but the Hunstman insisted, lecturing you briefly about the need to keep your energy — and stamina — at a consistent level.
You’d begrudgingly accepted his offerings, less so out of hunger and more so because of the way he’d pulled you against the sweat-slicked skin of his chest while you ate, his fingers tracing delicately up and down your spine as his lips peppered your forehead in gentle, reverent kisses.
But that had been at least two hours prior, and you were right back where you started: head thrown back and nonsensical babbling lilting from your mouth as Sanemi impaled you on his monstrous length, over and over, until you could not remember where you ended and he began.
To his credit, even Sanemi in heat tried to feed you his knot in new positions, still committed to ensuring that you got as much pleasure from the experience as he. The current position was the most toe-curling one yet, one that had Sanemi resting on his haunches, his back straight as he kept you perched atop his cock like a throne.
One clawed hand was splayed across your lower back, keeping you upright as the other stretched across your lower abdomen, hand pressing down against your navel so you could feel the bulbous head of his engorged cock rub against that spot at the front of your wall that made you forget your own name, even if you could not seem to forget his.
This position also allowed him to guide you up and down his length in time with his lurid, frenzied thrusts, which you supposed was a good thing, considering your legs had long since been reduced to jelly and were utterly useless.
You felt yourself growing more and more lightheaded the harder Sanemi continued to fuck himself into you, the pleasure wrought by each frantic, deep stroke of the Wolf’s thick length in and out threatening to overtake you entirely.
His seed was steadily squelching out of you with each impassioned thrust, running down your thighs and dampening the furs below you. you’d lost count of how many times he’d already given you his knot. Truthfully, you’d stopped counting around the third or fourth time, your body too concentrated on trying to simply keep up with the Huntsman’s insatiable stamina. Still, despite the exhaustion, your mouth managed to form only a single, coherent plea for more, a command the Wolf was only too happy to oblige
You were getting closer to that pinnacle again, a slew of whimpers falling from your mouth in time with each harsh drive of the wolf’s cock into your cunt. But despite the number of times Sanemi had brought you over the edge since this dance had begun, you felt as though this time, it would be different; more extreme. How could you not, given the way your own juices slid down your thighs, mixing with his essence as he fucked it both into and out of you?
Sanemi’s length was hardly pulling out of your sopping heat, so you felt the swelling at his base steadily growing larger and larger, and you knew his release was imminent. You tried to tighten your arms around his neck, a high-pitched whine keening from your throat as your head fell back.
The Wolf bent low and sucked one of your aching breasts into his mouth, his teeth adding new reddish-purple marks to the fatty flesh that his tongue worked to quickly soothe. A graze of his fangs against your nipple sent another gush of fluid rushing from your core, followed by a wanton moan as you arced your back, pressing your breasts harder into his face.
You felt your walls begin to tighten around his rocky length once more, and your pearl brushed against the swollen hub of the enlarged gland at the base of his cock.
With a final jolt of his hips upwards, Sanemi’s knot pressed flush against the apex of your thighs and sent you catapulting into the burning fire of your climax once more, your body seizing as your vision faded white. There was only a faint ringing in your ears as you felt yourself floating along clouds that matched the precise hue of your Huntsman’s hair, and you let yourself be utterly lost among the pleasure that was Sanemi.
You were content to remain amidst that departed bliss, your body weightless and your mind empty, but the Wolf still embedded deep within your cunt was not.
Your rapture was disrupted by a faint pressure between your thighs, just against that nub Sanemi had shown you was sacred to him. That pressure grew, your limbs no longer floating but stiffening, tensing as something warm and calloused pinched more insistently at your pearl.
With a keening cry, you plummeted out of the clouds of mindless bliss you’d ascended to and right back down to earth, to that cave den where Sanemi had you draped over his thighs, one clawed hand supporting the middle of your back to keep you upright as the other furiously worked between your legs.
Tears of pleasure so intense leaked from the corners of your eyes as you deduced that the Wolf rutting into you had forced you back to consciousness with yet another climax, this one just as powerful as the previous. Though, now, instead of your vision fading to white, a rush of your own fluids surged forth and coated the Huntsman’s groin, wetting down the coarse, silvery hairs that surrounded his cock.
Sanemi’s nostrils flared at the scent of your pleasure as it soaked him. With something more akin to a roar than a groan or a shout, Sanemi’s cock erupted within you, his hot seed shooting so deep, you swore you could taste it — him — at the back of your throat.
Had you been capable of speech, you would have tried to tell him you could not possibly be expected to hold anymore of his pleasure — not when you’d already taken more loads of it than you could count, not when it felt as though his seed had replaced every trace of blood within your body, so coating everything inside that made you you to instead make his. But you weren’t; not when your tongue was half-lolled out of your mouth, not when your eyes had rolled so far back into your skull, you’d wondered whether they might become stuck there.
And even if you could have spoken, it wouldn’t have mattered. For the moment Sanemi’s cock ceased twitching inside you once more, you felt felt his hips surge up and in, felt that hard, bulbous knot slip right into your core with far more ease than it had earlier in the night, ensuring that not a single drop of Sanemi’s pleasure could leak out of where he’d just unloaded it within you once more.
Not that you would want it to be anywhere else, anyways; not when it was so warm, so comforting as it sloshed around inside your womb, making you feel a fullness not even the most decadent of meals could impart.
Somehow, still, you wanted more; needed it. Needed him.
You continued to float as you took the Wolf’s knot twice more, your brain little more than liquid and your senses too dull to perceive anything that wasn’t him. Distantly, you felt him tense and heard his soft groan, quieter than any noise he’d made since first claiming you all those hours ago, and his dwindling knot lodged into your entrance one final time.
The two of you breathed heavily for a moment, you folded half against the cave wall, sandwiched between cool rock and Sanemi’s solid warmth. Dazedly, you realized Sanemi had called your name, his voice barely a hoarse whisper.
Blinking, your eyes blearily opened to meet a pair of lilac — not silver — irises hovering above your own.
Sanemi’s face was flushed, but his human features had returned, with not a trace of those elongated fangs or pointed ears left.
A sheen of sweat coated his skin, dampening the ends of his snowy hair to a dark silver. Sanemi kept himself braced above you, his muscles rippling in the dim, fading light of the small fire feebly flickering within the cave. From your spot below him on the pelts, your eyes traced a bead of sweat that rolled down his neck and over one of his scarred pectorals.
“You cannot possibly take anything more from me.” He panted, and to your amusement, he almost looked alarmed as his eyes roamed your equally flushed and sweaty form spread out below him.
You smiled serenely up at the Huntsman — your mate.
“I can take whatever it is you want to give me, Wolf.”
Sanemi groaned loudly as he pulled out of you, both of you wincing at the loss of warmth.
“I have nothing left to give you, woman. My heat has ended,” his eyebrows raised. “Even if yours, apparently, hasn’t.”
Between your legs felt sticky and gooey with the remnants of Sanemi’s heat slowly leaking forth and mixing with the fluid drying on your thighs. But despite the slightly uncomfortable sensation of the Huntsman’s copious seed beginning to dry where it crusted on your skin, you smirked at him nonetheless as he laid out beside you with a heavy sigh.
“So I am a Wolf, then? If you think I am in heat, that is.”
“I think you are the most insatiable devil ever to grace the Wood,” Sanemi countered exasperatedly. “And I think you may be the death of me.”
You giggled as the Huntsman helped ease you down from where he’d pinned you against the wall, his hands gently guiding you to your side against him as the two of you laid down upon the furs.
Your head nestled into the crevice in the middle of his chest, your cheek pressed flush against his sternum, the steady beat of his heart a lullaby that threatened to bring sleep fast and soon.
“You said something earlier,” Sanemi said gently. “Just before I —“
Your eyes flew open, a faint blush of embarrassment staining your cheeks as you recalled your words, cried out just before the moon had triggered Sanemi’s partial transformation.
I love you!
“Where are you going?” Warm fingers caught you beneath your chin, preventing you from burying your face against his chest in your effort to hide away.
Your head was turned up, and your eyes met that warm, lilac gaze. “Don’t hide from me, my Lamb.”
“Pretend I said nothing,” you squeaked, eyes dropping. “It does not have to mean anything.”
Sanemi’s other hand dropped to the mark branded into the juncture of your neck. At the first brush of his gentle yet strong fingers against the mark’s curvature, a warmth flooded through you, your teeth sinking into your lip to prevent you from purring at the contact.
“I did mark you, you know,” he smiled softly. “Bound myself to you for life, even if you decided to reject me.”
His smile faded slightly, his eyes earnest. “I would not have done that if I didn’t care for you — deeply.”
Sanemi’s lips pursed in thought. “If I did not love you, too.”
And though you had just spent the last day and a half allowing him to bend and twist you into positions that had you sobbing for him, the Huntsman’s words made your heart flutter like a bird.
“From this day forward,” you whispered, taking Sanemi’s hand in yours and pressing the tips of his fingers against your lips. “Wherever you go, I wish to follow.”
“You say that as though there was a chance you wouldn’t; as though you’d ever willingly leave me in peace.” He brushed a kiss against the top of your nose and his voice quieted. “As though I’d have it any other way.”
You answered his soft smile with one of your own, leaning up to slant your mouth over his. Sanemi’s lips parted easily for yours, your tongue sliding into his mouth to languidly dance with his, your hand snaking up his chest to hold the side of his neck.
The Huntsman growled softly into your kiss, an arm tightening around your waist as he pressed your nude body flush against his own.
“My heat may be over,” he said huskily against your mouth as he broke away to catch his breath. “But the fire you’ve lit within me still rages hot, little Lamb.”
You mewled as you traced your lips down, gliding over a scarred pectoral to take his pert little nipple into your mouth, your tongue swirling softly around it as Sanemi moaned.
“You’ve taken me as a wolf, Hunstman,” you purred, your hand sliding down his chiseled torso to where his cock had begun to stir once more. “Now I want you to take me as a man.”
With a low growl, Sanemi’s hands seized around your waist and flipped you over, laying you out on your back atop him, body pressed flush against his.
“Who am I to deny my mate?” His teeth grazed the shell of your ear, and one hand snaked around to your front to gently squeeze the sides of your throat.
“But since I’m taking you as a man, then I suppose you are no longer a Lamb, which means you no longer need this.” Sanemi’s fingers dropped to the collar of your cloak where it was still draped around your shoulders.
“And as fond as I am of your little red riding hood, I’m no longer concerned with being held back, sweetling.”
He flung the ruby cloak into a far corner of the cave before sliding his hand under you to position his cock between your legs, his tip already leaking as it pressed against your entrance.
His other arm looped through yours, pulling them back and pinning them against his chest, before he gave a great thrust up, sheathing himself to the hilt within your ready and eager walls.
You moaned, loud and unrestrained as Sanemi nipped at the side of your neck, your thighs spreading wider to accommodate his thrusts up from below.
“Let’s see how much more of me you can take now, little Red.”
—
SOMEWHERE IN THE NETHERWOOD
The silent, still trees of the Netherwood were helpless against the icy mist that rolled in from the foothills of the tiny, isolated village at its borders.
Though the forest had always been a void where sound and sunlight went to die, the mist heralded forth an unnerving stillness, so that not even a brave little songbird risked fluttering its wings. Even the shadows seemed to recoil as the source of the mist slunk through the ancient Wood, the most fearsome of its residents cowering away from the sinister intruder.
A figure emerged from the icy fog. Though the sun had long since set, the traveler needed no lantern or torch; his eyes, an unsettling kaleidoscope of colors, saw easily through the dark, the Wood unable to keep its secrets hidden from his hungry gaze.
It was quite a lovely night, the figure mused. A cool, late autumn evening with air so crisp it could only mean snow was imminent.
And snow made it much easier to track his prey.
Not that he was having much difficulty to begin with; after all, the girl’s noble attempt to muddy her own scent only made the chase that much more fun for the creature prowling through the Netherwood. Especially since the girl’s actions would lead him to a far bigger — far tastier, prize.
He smiled fondly to himself. He hadn’t imagined that the scrappy village girl would have ever made this game of his so interesting, and he certainly hadn’t expected her to be capable of serving him the feast he now tracked through the Wood.
He would still dispose of her the same way as the others, just as he planned. It did not matter to him that she’d already tainted herself by allowing a Wolf to mate her. In fact, the figure mused as he licked the remaining blood from his last his meal from his fingers, he hoped that the Wolf’s attempt to breed the succulent little human had been successful.
Mortal women and girls were far more satisfying than any other prey, with the way their bodies stored fat and held onto nutrients in preparation for child bearing. But a human woman carrying a Wolf’s pups? His mouth watered at the thought as he shuddered with delight.
But even if she was not carrying the fruits of the Wolf’s seed, it wouldn’t matter; she would still sate both his appetites.
And then there was the Wolf himself.
For the Wolf was the creature’s true target; the fat goose he hadn’t expected to find when he broke into the hen’s house in search for a new bride to claim.
The creature suppressed the primal, longing growl that bubbled up in his chest as he imagined how it would feel to sink his teeth into the furred flesh of the cursed Wolf, and how it would feel to swallow his mouthfuls of power and boundless strength.
His stomach growled at the thought, though he’d just feasted on a little girl he’d snatched from her parents’ bed as he’d waded into the Netherwood. She’d been bony and small, likely barely pubescent, but he’d been in need of nourishment before embarking on the long journey ahead. And, she’d been unbroken, and while he was not someone to care as much about such trivial matters, he couldn’t deny that it did feel so much better when they were untouched and untainted.
But she would do for now, as she rested in his belly. She could hold him over until he decided it was time to set his plan in motion, and his daring, rebellious little Y/N led him straight to the wolves’ den.
And Lord Douma knew how to be patient. And so, he would wait.
#demon slayer#sanemi shinazugawa#kinktober#kinktober 2023#kimetsu no yaiba#kny x reader#kny fanfic#kny sanemi#sanemi x reader#monster fucker#werewolf fucker#sanemi shinazugawa x reader#sanemi smut#kny smut#demon slayer smut
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"Here's what I think you'd look like if I dissected you."
Yan + "Creep" Artist Reader
[Light Gore]
-
The attention to detail is astonishing.
They'll have to remember to ask you what technique you used for the milky gloss over their eye. Like a slab of meat on a dinner plate or a sacrificial lamb placed at the altar, their still body resides on the operating table - hands and feet shackled in leather restraints. Bruises on their ankles and wrists show signs of a struggle. The real them- the person studying this macabre rendition of their own body pulled apart for someone else's insight, likes to think they wouldn't fight it they traded places.
Metal clips clips pry open their chest cavity. The skin of their torso carefully sliced and pinned to the table reminds them of the wings of a butterfly. Come next, an anomaly that detaches your artwork from the realism the rest of image achieved. Bloated and misproportioned, spanning triple the normal, healthy size of the size organ - it falses to cross their mind what they're looking at is their heart. From its placement in their chest, their was little else it could be. A repugnant blend of purples and blacks muddy the shape into a hollow chasm for which nothing escapes. Blackened blood beats from the diseased abnormality - staining the shattered bones of their ribcage coal.
"What is that?"
"It's your heart."
"Why does it look like that?"
You shrug, holding a thumb to the seam of the paper to prevent it from tearing as you rip it out of your notebook.
"It's what I imagine the heart of someone who loves me as much as you claim to would look like."
Some people draw their friends as cute animals or from medias they both enjoy. You draw them with their guts on display in an attempt to better understand the rotten feelings they have for you.
".....I love it."
#Creep Reader#yandere#yandere imagines#yandere x you#yandere x reader#yandere insert#yandere blurb#yandere oc#yandere scenarios#yandere headcanons#yandere drabble#tw yandere#yandere x darling#cw: gore
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au where the Riley family lives and simon gets into some Deep Shit™️ with some sort of group, whether it’s cartel or a terror org or what have you. And despite his and price’s and laswell’s best efforts, even the most privileged information eventually makes its way to the highest bidder. Which means that when this amorphous Group wants to hurt the ghost, they go after his most tender weak point.
They snatch Joseph Riley on his way home from school one day, and he’s terrified. He knows what his uncle does (vaguely and highly sanitized), enough for a kid his age to understand the gravity of the situation. So he has some idea of what’s about to happen.
Joseph doesn’t really have a good gauge on the passing of time, trapped in a dank, moldy cell in the ground with a single dirty window that doesn’t let in much light. The cuffs around his wrists are too tight, chafing against the thin skin. He’s hungry, thirsty, tired, but not scared. Okay, he’s a little scared but not as scared as he should probably be. Because he knows that come hell or high water, Uncle Simon is on his way.
That is, until the Group gets tired of waiting for Ghost to make a move and decide to send a message. They grab Joseph by the scruff and drag him out of the cell he’d memorized every inch of through the building. Joseph doesn’t know what’s happening, but whatever it is can’t be good.
And it isn’t. The door they come to is large, looks like it’s solid steel but with a weird sheen to it. There are claw marks digging into the frame and the ground. And a low, persistent growl echoes from behind the metal. Before Joseph can even think to speak, to beg for his life, one of the men unlocks the door, throws Joseph to the ground, and slams it shut behind him.
He falls in a crumpled heap, panting and coughing into the darkness around him. And then he freezes. Because the room is silent. The growl is gone. With the last bit of courage he has, he lifts his head from the dirty, iron-smelling floor and locks eyes with two bright blue irises glowing in the dark.
He’s heard stories of the wolves before, caught somewhere between man and monster. Some had come from Uncle Simon, some where rumors floated around school, some were just stories told to scare children. The stories all talked about the ferocious majesty of wolves, massive frames and thick fur and pearly white, razor sharp fangs.
This wolf is entirely unlike those stories. In the barely-there light leaking through the seam of the door, he can see just how bad the wolf is. His fur is ragged and hanging off his skeletal frame. Barely healed scars cut deep gouges into his face and flanks. And his eyes have no keen intelligence left, just base animal instinct. He’s watching Joseph silently, unmoving.
Joseph knows the wolf is starving, and he’s the unwilling lamb led to slaughter.
But the wolf doesn’t pounce. He inches forward, nosing gently at the bruises and scratches on Joseph’s face. He whines quietly when Joseph hisses from the movement. And he herds Joseph away from the door towards a tangled pile of dirty blankets and straw, curling around his shivering body with eyes pinned to the locked door.
Wolves are pack animals, and werewolves are no exception. When one werewolf soldier Sergeant MacTavish was drugged and captured, the Group thought they had themselves a mindless killing machine. They thought they could throw a child at a lonely, feral wolf and send the Ghost a gruesome message. They either didn’t know or didn’t care that pups, no matter the species, are precious to the pack. They gave Soap a pup, and he would protect that pup with his life.
(And when Ghost bursts into the cell not long after, blood soaked and wild eyed, he doesn’t expect to see his nephew, alive and relatively unharmed, with a massive guard dog curled around him. He doesn’t expect that guard dog to change back into a man. And he doesn’t expect that guard dog to stick around once he’s back on his feet, sticking to his side like he’s got no where better to be.)
#john soap mactavish#simon ghost riley#cod mw2#cod mwf2#Joseph Riley#call of duty#alive riley au#werewolf au#ghostsoap#soapghost#kinda?#I think it’s at least building to that end lmao#shoutout to irl wolves being puppy crazy#love that for them#wayward seeds
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I want you to know that I came across a random post of your Death Note art, went "Awww, oh my gosh, with the way this person draws Light I think Akechi would look fantastic in the same style!", clicked onto your profile, and then saw your newest artwork was Akechi. I'm still kind of cackling over it and thought maybe you'd find it funny too. Your art is SO cute, I'm very happy I found it <333
HAHA THAT’S AMAZING (<< was an akechi artist wayyyy before i fell head over heels for light)
but rlly… theyre so similar:
- brunet
- asshole
- pretty boy
- mass murderer
- black-haired homoerotic rival
at the end of the day, the key difference is one is a top and the other is a bottom.
ok but seriously, they’re vastly different characters on a fundamental level:
- light was handed everything him on a silver platter: family, friends, looks, intellect, a comfortable life… as a bastard child of a sex worker and now an orphan, goro had to fight his way to his current position and will always harbor a terrible sense of inferiority (light is completely confident in his absolute superiority, Always (that’s why the challenge of L sent him off the deep end of obsession lol))
- light genuinely sees himself as a hero, while goro would like to feel the same but is nonetheless depressingly aware of his villain’s journey (his undesirable position as the detective vs the underdog phantom thieves, his string of assassinations, his ultimate dirty bloody goal, etc.).
- light’s motive is about the world’s salvation, cleansing, the birth of his ideal reality (very messianic of him with the slightest loving tinge of mary cradling her lamb hahaha) while goro is laser-focused on ruining this one asshole’s life in particular, vengeance and revenge at once! one’s focused on rebirth, and the other gunning straight for death! they both use murder to get what they want but light probably floats around thinking himself so clean and divine as mother of the world (ignorance is bliss) while goro is constantly desperately trying to cover up his suspiciously red hands with his gloves hehehe… they’re both constantly striving for perfection, just with varying levels of self-awareness!!
- goro is a canonical loner; light has a horde of friends; this is probably due to a difference in public persona! goro is an untouchable idea of what he thinks a human should be and is completely out of the loop when it comes to normal social interactions (believes opening with hegel will instantly endear himself to the average person (luckily he inflicted that upon akira who is decidedly not average in the slightest)), light is implied to be more down-to-earth and even slightly goofy (he’s gaming decorum like an advanced speedrunner)! it’s probably good how distant goro is, because getting any closer to him will allow you to see how off-putting and uncanny he is, sorta like an AI-generated image—seams in the wrong places and far too much teeth LOL. meanwhile light has this whole shebang so thoroughly figured out that he’s BORED with it all! he’d like to move on to the next game (with L), thank you!! light definitely still exudes uncanny creepiness (it’s his natural state of being) especially when he zones out or starts hysterically cackling out of nowhere at his own thoughts, but he’s a hundred times better at masking compared to goro due to a better upbringing. goro is starved for the adoring friends he sees akira easily picking up one after another; light couldn’t give less of a shit because he’s always had those trivial luxuries! he’d much rather prefer an adoring WORLD!!
- then there’s the difference in how they die… one started out surrounded with company but ultimately died alone, while it’s the opposite for the other (if you count the de-realization of maruki’s reality as goro’s “death” (which i don’t)).
- in conclusion, light and goro are like funhouse mirror reflections of each other!!! one is a pampered lapdog getting a taste of rabies and letting loose, while the other is a starving wolf trying to domesticate itself for treats and headpats!! and i <3 them both!!!!!
anyways i may be wrong about light because im going purely off of fics, tumblr shitposts, and my own imagination :] feel free to school me in a way that won’t destroy my delusions!
#美迪 archive#💡princess posting⋆˚✿˖°#mailbox 💌#light yagami#death note#goro akechi#persona 5#persona 5 royal#art#artists on tumblr#digital art#doodle#rkgk#画画#涂鸦
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for the lovely @honeybleed ‘s milestone collab event ! wrote this little drabble based on this song:
content: drugs, alcohol, strip club setting, no actual smut but def not pg
thinking about being his fav dancer at the club <3
toji always comes to the club alone. tall, broad, always clad in a suit. thick hands hands that remain perpetually stuck under the bikini tops of the girls keeping him company.
the older man likes to nurse a bottle on his days off, long fingers dwarfing the neck of a sweet liquor you can't pronounce. he smells like it the first time he walks by you on his way to the private dances he can't help but pay for every night. you wonder what his lips taste like.
his composure is iron solid. unbreakable. the man didn't bend for any drug, drink, or woman. not that you were stalking him (you were). you watch him down bottles that would put any normal man in the ER, taking casual swigs in between feeling up the gaggle of dancers fighting for his money. he doesn't seem dunk, not even once. brushing it off like he does every night.
you strategize, subtle yet deliberate. memorizing his schedule to a T, dolling yourself up a little extra on the nights he comes in. word from the other girls was that it was easy to get his attention-- the real challenge was keeping it.
you catch him looking at you across the dimly lit club one night, eyeing you up on stage while another girl feels him up over his dress slacks. his hands falter over her waist as you turn your back to him. a sign that maybe, just maybe, you've piqued his interest.
toji doesn't look away for a second, taking you in with practiced skill. you know he's locked in when he shoos the other dancer off, raising his glass to you in a way that herds you over like a lamb.
you feel warm all over when you straddle him, giggling at how strong his legs are. heat radiates off his body in waves. the man's lower half is spread wide and corded with muscle, holding your lower half up as you rub and grind all over him.
toji hisses at the bold display, tucking a wad of 100s into the seam of your bikini. a generous client, rare but appreciated. he leans in, husky voice cutting through the booming music.
“you new here?” he mumbles, slipping a single between your cleavage. you feel the pad of his thumb slip under the thin ties of your bottoms, rubbing back and forth in the junction between your heat and your thigh.
“no, you know that,” you tease, pivoting to straddle him cowgirl style.
"smart girl," he praises. "knows when she's got my attention."
the air hangs heavy with an unspoken promise as the near stranger continues to spoil you. slowly, you turn, dropping to your knees in front of him to sit at eye level with the part of him you've been curious about this whole time.
"might have a new favorite girl after tonight, huh?" he leers.
#toji x reader#jujutsu kaisen#toji smut#jjk toji#toji headcanons#toji imagine#jujutsu kaisen toji#toji zenin#jujutsu toji#toji hcs#toji fushiguro#fushiguro toji#dilf toji#toji#toji drabbles#toji x you#toji hc
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oh don't ask me for requests, you know I deliver. What about Zoro with number 30?
send me one + a character and i'll write u a drabble
30. invention of the dictionary
opla!zoro; 882 words; fluff, teeth-rotting fluff, strawhat!reader, gn!reader, no "y/n", unconventional format, whipped!zoro
summary: truth, love, still, and stolen
a/n: been a while since i've written something so chill but i rly like this one u__u nice, short, and sweet!
He has never been a man of many words, but meeting you has made him wonder about the exact reason dictionaries were invented. What scholar (for it must have been a scholar, Zoro thinks) could have amassed such a knowledge of words and meanings that they decided the only way to keep track was to write it down? Or perhaps it was simply someone in love — someone who felt too much and yearned too hard and never had the words big enough or heavy enough, wide enough or deep enough, to fully encompass the way they were feeling.
Because he’s never been a man of many words, but meeting you has him reaching for the tattered dictionary they’d found in a treasure chest, washed ashore on a small, insignificant island — not unlike you. You with your windswept hair and your skin smelling of salt and cream and a thousand midnight mysteries. You, and the way your eyes hold worlds that Zoro’s certain he’d never have the privilege of seeing.
But sometimes when he kisses you, he thinks he can taste the remnants of their exotic fruits beneath the sweet of your tongue, and sometimes when you kiss him back hard enough, he can feel it in the crescent moon marks you leave inked into his skin. Like dotted lines on a treasure map.
You’d been a traveling bounty-hunter, not so unlike who he’d been in a past life, one that he can barely even remember. And your laughter had been just the right shade of lost for Luffy to take notice. No one had thought twice about it after that — and you blended in with the crew as a shot of rum in a morning espresso — which is to say perfectly.
He finds himself flipping through the thin, water-warped pages of the dictionary, pausing on words he’d always thought he knew — words like truth, and love. Words like still, and stolen.
And so, here are some words that Roronoa Zoro has learned and re-learned the meanings of. All because of you.
truth noun.
the quality or state of being true
a fact or belief that is accepted as true
a thing so fundamental that it never has to be questioned — like the rising of the sun in the east or the setting of the moon in the west; something that pulses with the very rhythm of the universe, like the ebb and flow of the tides or the way that autumn always feels a little bit like goodbye — or how birdsong will inevitably be followed by the sprouting of spring, and how March comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb, and how Zoro’s never questioned just how much he’s loved you, or even whether or not he’d fallen in love. He simply woke up one day and knew.
love noun.
an intense feeling of deep affection
a great interest or pleasure in something
you, your smile, the way you hold your chopsticks, how you press your hand to your stomach when you laugh, the way your lips feel as they trail along Zoro’s jawline, the way your heartbeat rhymes with the gentle rush of the sea
verb.
to feel deep affection for someone or something
to like or enjoy very much
to dream of a life with you, and all the things you might do — to lie awake at night counting your breaths as you fall asleep next to him, to press his lips into the seam of your hair and know that when he wakes up in the morning, you’ll still be right there next to him
still noun/adj./verb
not moving or making a sound
deep silence or calmness
to make or become still
the way the world feels the first time you cry, how the planets themselves seem to grind to a deadly halt, how Zoro’s world tilts on the axis of you and doesn’t stop until he wonders if everything around him is upside down and inside out — how you curl into yourself when the monsters in your past become more than shadows and whispers that creep in the dark, or when the darkness comes knocking and you bury your face in his shoulder, your voice a whisper as you beg — please… help me.
adverb
up to and including the present time mentioned
nevertheless; all the same
how he knows he loves you, the way that the sea loves the sky — even after a devastating rainstorm; how there’s blood on his swords, blood soaking through the wooden planks but he’s got you in his arms so it’s going to be alright; how you let him carry you and hold you close; how he lets you carry him as well; how the pair of you curve around each other like a parenthetical, two bookends to a library of memories stored in the negative space between you; how you are with each other after all of this, still.
stolen verb (*past participle of steal)
take without permission or legal right, without the intent to return
move somewhere quietly or surreptitiously
his heart, his mind, his body, his soul — and him with you.
#one piece#one piece x reader#one piece live action#one piece scenarios#opla zoro#roronoa zoro#roronoa zoro x reader#roronoa zoro x you#x reader#opla#one piece netflix#opla zoro x reader#one piece live action x you#one piece live action x reader#roronoa zoro fluff#one piece fluff#roronoa zoro imagines#roronoa zoro scenarios#floofy floof floof#scheduled post#hello yes ive missed writing shit like this LMFAO
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wolcred week | 1. 'the first.'
They all knew it was coming. Either their brightest star would claim the last of the Light, or the Light would claim her.
What were they to do but careen to their inevitable deaths? He had sacrificed one lamb for another, and now a third was to be laid upon the butcher's block. How many must die so that another might live?
He would not forget the sight of the woman before him, holding her outstretched hands aloft as the curtain of Light parted one last time to reveal the night sky in all her glory. Menphina smiled down in a smirk of a crescent for their efforts, and just as she had appeared, was the curtain drawn once again.
He didn’t need an aetherometer to see that Tsuna was suffused– the aether was thick, cloying enough to be seen. The ewer of her body failed to contain it, finally splitting at the seams for a means of escape.
Their ascian friend dealt the final blow. The Exarch, in his well-meaning duplicity, left for dead. And then Tsuna slumped to the ground, just as lifeless.
He ought to be angry– furious– for Urianger’s joint deception, for his own empty hands, or for the cards Sister Fate had dealt them time and time again, but the queer feeling roiling within him was not one of anger, but of fear. He stood there, powerless, shaking to his core whilst the twins rushed to Tsuna’s aid alongside Ryne.
Even Minfilia could not wholly extinguish the Light– she could only freeze it in time– and as Ryne sank to her knees beside the supine woman in hopes of doing the same, he could only watch in abject horror.
“Give her room,” he barked, though the twins were undeserving of his ire as he approached. They still took a collective step back.
Brilliant white blood readily trickled from Tsuna’s nose, and by way of her laboured breathing it was evident that she was being torn apart by a force of which a layman could not hope to see. Something within Tsuna was stirring, whether it was brought about by her own will, or by Ryne’s suppression, he couldn’t know.
It began first in her hands as they twitched and grasped for purchase, then her spine as it coiled. Her eyes snapped open, hungry and searching, as she lunged for the Oracle’s throat in hopes of supping upon the wellspring.
Thancred fell to his knees, wrestling the woman onto her back as an inhuman screech tore from her throat. “Don't stop!” he cried out, harsh with concerted effort. There was an unnatural strength burgeoning within her tiny frame that even as a man grown he struggled to contend with, and if Ryne did not finish the ritual, it would swallow them whole.
Ryne was shaken, but nothing if not determined. The power flowed through her once more, and Tsuna’s struggles came to a head. She thrashed upon the ground against his weight, spitting blood, and gnashing teeth. She would bite her tongue if it kept up-- he could barely hold her steady long enough for Ryne to work in her magicks.
“In our lifetime, please!”
"I'm trying!" "Ryne made a frustrated growl of effort as a bead of sweat rolled down her cheek. The very aether about them seemed to compress, tangible enough that even he could feel it become leaden as it coalesced.
Tsuna cried out one last time, waning to a whine as she pushed wildly against his arms, seizing. Her legs writhed as if a sudden, great pain knifed through her. And then all was silent.
Ryne immediately flagged, catching herself on the marble. Her power had all but been exhausted whilst he held the aftermath limp in his arms. Y’shtola and Urianger had begun to crowd about, to inquire, to plan, to move, but all he could do was hold the small woman in his arms, and pray to the Twelve, unseen, that the Light did not break through once again whilst their last bastion was too weak to hold.
“Ryne,” he called, softly, intently. Apology was writ together in his tone. “Are you all right?”
She nodded, though he knew she waned, looking close to tears from it all.
He swallowed thickly, realising he shared in the sentiment.
Adjusting Tsuna’s body in his arms, he felt just how cold she had grown. They needed a chirurgeon's assistance, and to get off this Godsforsaken rock, but more than that they needed a miracle. His hands would not stop trembling.
“Ryne, you know that I would not deign to ask a favour of you.” He breathed for a long moment, hanging his head low in penance. “Gods–” He swore. “You have to help her. I– We can’t lose her to this.”
Ryne stared back at him, having caught her breath, eyes wide, and glassy. She was searching him for something he couldn't know.
She opened her mouth, before aborting the question. Finally, she pursed her lips, looking uneasy in a way that only managed to make him feel worse.
“I’ll do what I can,” she whispered, and he had no choice but to believe.
#gpose#barfs this is so...#nay I shan't say it... (cwinge)#ANYWAY IT BEGINS........... welcome to my wolcred week#7 days of hell#thinks about when he called wol their brightest star haha anyway#please help her ryne she ate so much glue#i should just make this tunasan week so it doesn't get conflated with the other one but#who gives a hoot#ALSO THANK YOU @sileniadream for giving me a tip for getting this gpose arena set up-- couldn't have done it without your crimes 🫡🫡🫡🫡#wolcred week#my writing (derogatory)
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☆ from gold, i am undone
{☆} characters tsaritsa {☆} notes cult au, yandere, drabble, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings blood, implied self harm, implied suicide attempts {☆} word count 0.9k
You weren't meant to be here.
You can feel it in the marrow of your bones– it weighs you down like heavy shackles, gold bleeding from your pores until it is all you know. The taste of ichor on your tongue, the warmth of its invasion beneath your skin, that gleam of gold that lingers in the color of your eyes like specks of dust.
You are changed, and you are whole.
But you are so unbearably broken.
A shattered piece of porcelain hastily put back together with gold to fill the cracks.
Decoration, in the end, for you are not fit to walk as "mortals" do. This gold had filled every empty crevice of your body, spilled the red into your frantic hands and made you bleed so it's callous gold could make room inside your body. It has taken from you many things, given many more, but you scratch and bite and tear until it drips onto the floor and even then it never leaves. It stains the floor no matter how hard you scrub– a permanent reminder of the sickening gold that molds you into something that used to look like you– that does look like you. Desecrated, yet so horribly divine.
All you see is a monster.
Something new, something old.
A hollowed out shell, wounds left to rot and fester until you suited the image of the Creator they bore upon statues and murals, the Creator worshiped in prayers spoken in hushed whispers and joyous chants praising your magnificence.
But what magnificence is there in detachment? What joy is there to be found in carving a God out of a human? They kneel like lambs before the shepherd, but the flock has made you– and you want to unmake them. Unweave the tapestry of their being stitch by stitch until it all falls apart and the world knows the cost of casting molten gold into the shape of a human, knows the price that has been left unpaid.
You want to take it from them. Watch them squabble and pray, blind sheep stepping into the wolf's open maw– to tear the seams of their being until the world is unwound by your heavy hands.
But you know it will not satisfy you.
Nothing does anymore.
You are no wolf. Only the shepherd who guides.
And with every drop of blood spilled, they ripped the humanity from your very bones until your body was the cast in which they made something anew– something gold, something horrific. A monster as much a God, a beast as much a man.
There is nothing left but absolute authority.
You try again and again to mend this act of desecration, to peel back the outer shell and rend the gold from your marrow– but your body cannot, will not, die. It mends itself back into place no matter how damaged, and all you feel is the uncomfortable tug of your body forcing itself to live. You cannot die, but were you ever truly alive at all?
Yet with every cycle, you know only one constant besides the thrum of golden ichor in your veins– cold.
Ice that burns, ice that spreads and festers and devours. Claws that pull you apart until the gold runs thick, teeth that burrow into your bones and rip it out from the source..eyes that witness the fall of a God with reverence– hungering, all consuming reverence.
You welcome it.
It is the first time you felt pain since you were cast into an image of a being you were not meant to be. The sting of cold upon your skin makes you shiver, your body tries to reject it, but you want to welcome it– for a brief moment that lasts only as long as it takes for you to blink, you see the glint of something familiar in the reflection of her empty eyes. Something achingly, horribly familiar– something human, all the more terrifying for it.
Even when Teyvat itself crumples like paper beneath the weight of her sins – of this desecration anew, this wretched heresy – you allow her hands to do it again. You grasp her hands in yours like chains, willing her to shackle you, willing her to pull you apart and make you whole again. To break you until the gold cannot put you back together again.
You long, each time, for those eyes like spears that lodge into your skin– burrow deep and sting deeper, making gold flow like water. You long for the biting tongue, the cutting words and those teeth like weapons– long to see the spite and anger and impure disgust aimed at the woman of silver who leads you down a hall that ends only in damnation. You follow each time like the lamb led astray by the wolf, but you do not wail in betrayal when she sinks her teeth into your throat and devours you whole.
For is it a sin if you welcome it? Has their God sinned, in the eyes of the flock, for welcoming such heresy with open arms? For allowing the wolf into their home?
Is it a sin to be broken beneath the only hands that have loved you?
Is it a sin to want to love, too, those hands and teeth stained in gold?
Then you shall be damned, you swear it. Damned, but gold no more.
For death is the closest you have ever felt to being human.
#sagau#genshin sagau#self aware genshin#genshin impact sagau#self aware genshin impact#fic tag#tsaritsa#genshin cult au#genshin impact cult au#tsaritsa x reader#this is. technically not a sequel but not a prequel but a secret third thing (mental health crisis)#kidding i just wanted 2 write the prev fic from more reader oriented pov bc it wasnt fucked up enough!!!!!#i need fucked up reader who is irreparably changed in horrifying ways!!!!!! and they cant die bc teyvat kinda needs them 2 uh#exist at all. and if u die well thats it. hits reset button#the horrifying fate of a mortal forced to be a god against their will and all the drawbacks that come with it#where is love to be found when they all cannot see themselves as anything but beneath you? there will always be imbalance#oh they try. they claw and scramble and beg but being the creator has changed you.#none of their worship. none of their sacrifices and gifts and pleas make you feel a thing and what a haunting thing it must be#do they reject it? delude themselves into thinking that they must try harder?#or do they accept that this is a god? absolute. horrifying in its entirety. something that even the archons cannot truly understand#a manmade god who seeks absolution in only the most heretical. the most blasphemous#literally shaking chewing on the bars of my cage LET ME OUT#i love deep dives like this sorry 2 everyone i made think i was normal my bad#i just think immortality and godhood r funky concepts and i love making them WORSE#also this took so long because i was playing b@Idurs g@t3 3 erm. censored so it doesnt show up in tags PLEASE DONT SHOW UP IN TAGS#taking i need the tsaritsa to bite me to a whole new entirely worse level!!#i just think (starts talking for 5 hours straight and doesnt Shut Up)#this one is also. considerably more openly fucked up then the other fic. even if its hidden behind flowery language uh. take it seriously.#okay im done no more angst its fluff from here on out i need 2 be NORMAL. i am a normal well functioning adult. maybe.
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Dead Lamb's Hand
Two aces and eights.
Two twine covered fates.
'Neath the lights and the gates, the rhinestones do gaze;
They follow the haze, the mist and the daze,
As they waltz on in, with a crafted fake face,
Two eights and two aces,
In here of all places,
The starlet's sweet naissence, into rich patrons graces.
They stride with such patience, their face never changes,
No matter the cards dealt, it's off to the races
The red queen of our hearts,
They rise, so they part,
The times come at last; One final dance.
With a move of the wrist, the dealer does flick,
The cards on the table, they wager the risk.
Declared with a grin, "I'm going all in"
The cat's astonished but sings,
"So am I my sweet thing,
The casino is yours if you win,
I'm all in."
Two pairs of two pairs,
The crowd is silent and stares,
The winner undecided, the kicker declares,
The cat has a six,
The lamb has a queen,
Stunned silences fill the casino to the seam,
The ewe's debonair but it drops fast as a hare:
She cheated her way, manipulated with care,
In order to be the winner of this sordid affair.
Now crowned the leader, the winner,
The cat's cause of despair.
The cat straightens her back almost sharp as a diamond,
Begins with a laugh, her eyes struck with lightning:
"Very well my dear Ines, I see no point in fighting.
You've won the game as I feared, it is luck you were striking.
But I will return, one day when you yearn,
For what's rightfully yours, my heart I'll confer."
The cat turned with a pace, and so struck up the band,
To sing the tale and the story,
Of the Dead Lamb's Hand
(Based on @lagomorphics's Lucky Card au)
#Not my proudest work but I think it's a fun lil thingy#HOPE YOU LIKE IT MAJORA!!!!!!#Feel free to send me some feedback!!!!#Hope I captured the vibe even if it's not story-accurate#Love you Maj <3#cotl#cult of the lamb#cotl narilamb#cotl au#cotl lamb#JoffyWrites
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Here we are, the last short story! I have absolutely adored this entire series and short stories, and will probably be re-reading in the near future!
Without further ado: ⚜️ The Adventures of Charls, the Veretian Cloth Merchant ⚜️
- I really like that Veretians and Akielons are adopting each other’s fashions with the merging of cultures… Akielons are still rejecting the sleeves though. I bet “to reject the sleeves” or to “have no sleeves” becomes some kind of dirty euphemism later down the line. 😂
- Laurent and Damen really are leaders that give back to their people and don’t put themselves on a massively high pedestal. If they want to run away for a bit and be Cousin Charls and Lamen, they’re gonna do it. The council are going to have such massive headaches for the entirety of their reign lol
- And Charls is such an MVP for carting around the King of Vere masquerading as his cousin who is also called Charls 💀
- It will literally never not be funny to see Charls NOT figure out who Damen is.
- It will also literally never not be funny when Charls starts to get suspicious and comes to a conclusion that is also wildly wrong. “He’s a merchant’s assistant!” 😮
- Credit to Damen for playing along. Were he not born a royal, this kind of life would suit him.
- Laurent and Damen sneaking off before the ascension is also fantastic. At the end of the day they’re both just people and enjoy freedom and adventure.
- No one was gonna tell me Damen has a dimple?! This is crucial information people!!
- “Wow, Lamen’s clothes suck and he’s clearly poor, but damn his Veretian is great!”
- Damen there trying to defend Charls surrounding the rumours he was deceived and Charls literally just tells him to stfu 💀
- Makon. We’re gonna have problems. Your seams? Wonky. Your fabric? Low quality. Your business? Dodgy. You are talking smack about the literal blood-related cousin to the King of Vere. They are a FAMILY.
- Every time Laurent uses his snakey qualities for good, an angel gains its wings. Undercutting Makon for the fabric was so satisfying, and everyone handled that with more grace than I would have. I would have literally laughed in Makon’s face.
- I really like the implication that Laurent has a soft spot for animals, horses especially, and generally creatures that are innocent (children included). Makes Damen’s gift super special, and this horse poisoning scene really sad 😢
- And in all the chaos, Damen is still finding time to flirt. Priorities.
- Another detail I adore is that Charls notices clothes before he notices physical appearance. He’s far more likely to say “the guy in the poorly woven woollen cloak” than “the guy with brown hair.”
- Laurent really hit the jackpot with Damen and the scary dog privileges that came with him. Someone need only tip a drink on this man and Damen’s started a whole bar fight.
- Also. Totally real that Akielons and Veretians still hold animosity between one another even after the merging of the kingdoms. Integration doesn’t happen overnight.
- This bar fight is everything. Damen is there absolutely murking everyone he sees and Laurent is ducked behind a table tossing olives and stealing lamb legs. Play to your strengths I guess!
- I can picture exactly no situation in which geese could make it better. Evil cobra chickens.
- We have adopted Alexon. He’s invited to the wedding.
- “A Prince’s hands are for refinement” I bet Charls and Damen keep this as a running joke even after everything is out in the open. Laurent lifts a pea and he’s like “Lamen! The king cannot possibly!!��
- If I was sat in disguise around a campfire with some borderline strangers and they started talking about my sex life, I’d simply ✨pass away✨. At least it was all good things and no scandalous rumours about Nikandros teaching Laurent how to wrestle 💀
- Seven hours? That’s cute. He barely survived one with Halvik’s girls 💀
- ALEXON!! Be the kind of nepo baby that uses their status like this.
- Literally need an entire book of Damen and Laurent sneaking out undercover in disguise to free slaves and bring down those trading them. ‼️📢Bring back the blue dress 2k24‼️📢
- Love that Charls always takes the opportunity to mention how strong and young and virile Lamen is, and how him and Laurent must be fucking like rabbits. Which, to be fair, is not too far from the truth lol
- It hurts my heart that the conversation Damen has with Charls could have happened with Auguste or Laurent’s father had Damen had the opportunity to court Laurent like he wanted.
- Laurent in gold looking absolutely ethereal at his coronation. That’s the post.
- HE FINALLY FOUND OUT 😂 WELCOME TO THE ROYAL FAMILY CHARLS!! You definitely know who’s getting to make the wedding trousseau 😉
This entire series has been an absolute ride, and thanks to everyone who’s shared in my (annoying) enthusiasm 😂 AO3 will be my new home, and any fic recommendations are 100% welcome! Love y’all! ♥️
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I think I’ll call it the “Leshy Rebels AU” for now. A better name will hopefully come with time but I have a feeling I’ll get attached to the “temporary” name. Let’s do some rambling
Leshy is still obviously the youngest Bishop. Having the closest relationship with Narinder, who is the middle child. Both have very important roles. Chaos and order in Leshy’s case, Death (and life but shhh) in Narinders. Concepts that basically hold the world together at its seams.
Leshy would not have been willing to imprison Narinder if he had truly known that was what he was doing to him. And his other three siblings knew this. They lied to him about their intentions, told him that he would be helping Narinder. Told a very eager Leshy very vaguely that Narinder needed his help. And he was forced into helping imprison his own brother.
In the panic of Narinders imprisonment all them were injured. Some were accidental and some were not. Leshy’s injuries were accidental. Leshy doesn’t blame him.
Leshy in his self imposed isolation would only really leave Darkwood to go to Narinders old broken down temple. He would leave flowers and talk to the red crown statue in hopes his brother could hear him.
Narinder could very much hear his brother. And the first few visits were the most intense. Hearing his baby brother sobbing and crying apologies to the statue. Hearing how those three lied to Leshy and used him as a tool to imprison him. Through the fresh pain of injuries with no luxury to bandage them, through the seething anger for his siblings. He only wanted in those moments to hold his brother and tell him it wasn’t his fault.
Leshy would become known as a source of protection for those that still worshipped Narinder. Especially for the Lambs. Especially when that blasted prophecy comes into play
Leshy for the longest time was trying to play his cards close to his chest, looking for a way to free his brother quietly. Protecting his brothers following quietly. Stealth was important wasn’t it? And then the prophecy happened. A Lamb that would free his brother, and kill the bishops. The bishop’s plan to kill the Lamb race as a whole. He has had enough!
He snapped the chain connected to him that was imprisoning his brother. He knew it would damage him gravely. But he wanted to make a statement to his siblings. He hopes they felt that chain break and he hopes the vibrations hurt. And after a while of being unconnected from the chain, his powers began to flourish into something more. While his health was still more than halved, his powers over chaos and order grew.
The Lamb of Prophecy is found! Well not really…the Lamb of Prophecy is sent straight to Narinder! Our Lamb is still given the red crown to help them in their quest. Leshy is looking for a way to get them their own crown so they can stay by his and Narinders side.
#cult of the lamb#cotl#cotl au#cult of the lamb alternate universe#alternate universe#Leshy rebels au#Leshy rebels#cotl leshy#bishop leshy#cult of the lamb leshy#bishop narinder#cult of the lamb narinder#cotl narinder#unchained chaos#unchained chaos au#unchained chaos cotl#cotl unchained chaos
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HUgE Oct 2010
Leather Obsession
No matter how much trends change, leather blousons remain popular. This season's lineup has evolved even further. Get the unique presence that leather has to offer!
This single riders jacket has a solid and rugged appearance. The excellent processing makes it look like it is vintage. The diagonal darts on the body and the logo on the arm are accents that are not forgotten. This is a masterpiece that is typical of UNDERCOVERISM, who has an extraordinary commitment to riders.
¥157,500 (UNDERCOVERISM)
This piece is a Melton blouson with flight jacket details attached using horse leather. The unique texture created by the special processing is also a highlight.
¥141,750 (Miharayasuhiro Tokyo)
The fabric has been washed to give it a vintage, wrinkled look. Outstanding pocket opening design and cuff details Couture techniques were also on display. ¥147,000 (M INC)
_High-quality lamb leather creates an elegant atmosphere. The double zipper on the front allows you to adjust the shape. ¥498,750 (Gucci Group Japan Yves Saint Laurent Division)
_Rick Owens is well known for its leather. The beautiful silhouette is created by the use of cut-outs and the shape of the back. The minimalist design makes this stand out even more. ¥250,950 (Pred PR)
The calf leather used is finished with a tasteful texture through product dyeing.
The stand-up collar and ribbing create a modern look. Also available in pink.
¥152,250 (ATTACHMENT Daikanyama main store)
This piece is inspired by the fusion of riders and judo uniforms, and the contrast between the suede and the leather is appealing. The distinctive, hard finish is the essence of Blackmeans. ¥147,000 (blackmeans)
The design is inspired by cowboys, with striking fringes, silver buttons, and studs. The comical bead embroidery on the chest pocket As an accent. ¥134,400 (Nepenthes Tokyo)
The soft jersey base is covered with ultra-thin jungle suede. After two-stage dyeing, the unique texture created by uneven rubbing gives it a one-of-a-kind presence. ¥145,950 (Pred PR)
Epaulets and flap pockets, This piece has a military feel with a belt and other details. The unique texture of the washed calfskin is also impressive. The sleeves are detachable with a zipper. ¥500,850 (Lanvin Japan)
From the double-name series with VANSON. Based on the US NAVY peacoat, the silhouette is smartly arranged. The charming camouflage pattern on the lining is also appealing. ¥198,450 (Comme des Garcons)
It features a voluminous hood and long ribs. There is also a hidden pocket along the seam of the body. It is wax-coated for water repellency. ¥199,500 (The Viridi-anne)
#my scans#fashion#archive fashion#avantgarde#2010s fashion#takahiro miyashita#takahiromiyashita the soloist#japanese fashion#comme des garçons#junya watanabe#lanvin#blackmeans#ysl#rick owens#undercover#jun takahashi#maison mihara yasuhiro#mihara yasuhiro
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