#apparently i got stung as a baby

[scrawnytreedemon]

Guess which idiot got stung trying to corral a wasp out their window... with their hand.

#scrawny rambles #i. i do this with flies all the time. and forgor. #should have just used a cup ffs #that's what i did back in the day when we used to get more of them #anyway! very sharp pinch but the pain mostly fades after the first minute or two if you dunk that bitch in cold water #first time i've been stung in conscious memory #apparently i got stung as a baby #but for obvious reasons i can't remember that lol #all in all not as bad as i thought it'd be

[writingouthere]

singlemom!reader x neighbor!sukuna. you miss having a baby and Sukuna is dying from a combination of your sexual tension, his lowkey(highkey) baby fever and the drudgery of attending a child's birthday party

cw: Sukuna's breeding kink, red flags are present and accounted for, no one gets laid tho so sad face. this actually ended up being way more sincere and heartfelt than I intended but honestly very typical of me

"Oh we're not together, Sukuna's just been letting me and Bug crash while we look for an apartment."

"Oh he's not my boyfriend, we're just friends!"

"He's actually not Bug's dad. No, no. But, they get along really well. She enjoys having someone else to hang out with aside from me, I think."

Your laughter after the last one plays on repeat as he goes to grab the two of you some refreshments. Sukuna feels like he's living the world's worst version of groundhog day, except instead of being some sad loser who relives the same day over and over, he's apparently a sad loser who is going to live the same conversation over and over again.

"Fuck this shit."

"Um, excuse me but could you watch your language. This is a kid's birthday party." Sukuna wants to ask the bitch who is correcting a grown man's language if he would mind watching his own fucking business but you seem to care about what these losers think and he won't make life difficult for you.

If he happens to step on the guy's foot as he leaves with two cups and a juice box caught in his elbow, well, his steel toed boots need the exercise.

Sukuna knew that if any of his acquaintances, he didn't have friends after all, could see him now, they would die laughing. Die ,because he would kill them for laughing, but fuck he couldn't even really blame them, even in his hypothetical.

Once upon a time, Sukuna was a feared criminal. People pissed themselves when he cornered them in a dark alley. Other bad guys would look at him and say, "wow that guy's a real piece of shit" and now look at him. Stuck at some three year old's birthday party. One more kidzpop butchering of an already shitty song away from committing another felony.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if he knew he was at least getting some pussy out of it, but he had just spent the past two hours hearing you deny him to anyone who asked and it was really starting to get to him.

He knew he was being a little bitch about it, and he wasn't upset just because you weren't fucking him. He was upset that all the things you were telling people, they were technically true. He was just letting you and your daughter crash. He was just your friend, not your boyfriend. Even the comments about him not being Bug's dad, but him being positioned as some kind of really invested babysitter, those might have stung more than the ones about your relationship but you thought that was true too.

Thinking about the kid made him look for her, not that Sukuna ever wasn't aware of where you and your daughter were. It had become instinct before he was even aware of it.

Bug was laughing with some kids he recognized from daycare and others from their regular trips to the park. Her happiness was contagious and Sukuna found his lips twitching up at the ends despite his shitty mood.

Your daughter's eyes found him from across the playground. "kuna!" she called, waving her little hand at him. He waved back with his available hand and made his way towards her. She met him halfway, her little legs unsteady on the wood chips but she didn't seem to notice. She was always like that when she saw him, she ran fearlessly. Maybe she just trusted he'd catch her.

Was it so wrong of him that he didn't like the reminders she wasn't his. That it stung, not just because of his feelings but because it just couldn't be true. He might not have fathered her, but fuck anyone who said this little girl wasn't his.

"I got you a juice, you've been running around so much you gotta be thirsty."

"Not thirsty," Bug argued leaning into him. He held up his hands that were holding the grown up drinks for the two of you, and moved the package still lodged in the crease of his elbow towards the petulant toddler. "Take it, or I'll drink it."

Bug stuck her tongue out at him and grabbed it. She struggled to get the wrapping off the straw and Sukuna didn't even notice what he was doing until she had the straw stretched out towards him and he was pulling the wrapper off with his teeth. He spit it out on the ground as your daughter gave him a polite thank-you and then walked away, sipping her juice as she went to catch up with her friends.

What had become of him?

"Need a hand?" You smile at him and Sukuna hands over your cup before taking a sip of his own. There was unfortunately no alcohol in it but drinking it occupied his mouth before he acted like a pussy and asked you, "what are we?" or "should we get married?" or something equally as pathetic.

"God, I want a baby."

Sukuna almost spit out his drink but he manages to tone it down to just a little cough before turning to look at you. You don't even seem a little embarrassed which is just infuriating. Sukuna's about to make a suggestion on how he can help with that when you sigh and point to where some loser is holding their ugly baby.

"Aren't babies just the cutest, I miss when Bug was that age."

Oh, so this was just you looking at other people's red-faced brats and feeling nostalgic and was not in fact a call to action. Sukuna rolled his eyes and leaned back on the hand closest to you so he didn't touch you as he was so tempted to do these days.

"That baby, like all babies, is hideous. All they do is cry, shit themselves and vomit and I'm not even sure Bug is the exception to that and she's the best kid there is."

You look touched at his affection for your daughter but also fired up on behalf of babies everywhere.

"You can't just say a baby is hideous, Sukuna. Those are the Zenin's. Bug is friends with some of them."

"Well are the older ones cuter, because that baby looks like someone fucked one of those hairless cats."

"Sukuna!" you hiss but he sees you smile, despite yourself. "Okay, maybe that baby isn't like the cutest baby-"

"Hideous."

You continue after smacking his arm. "But Bug was cute, okay. And I'm not just saying that because I'm her mom." You take out your phone and quickly swipe until you get to what you're looking for. "See, cute baby."

Sukuna grabs your phone and looks. It's not the first picture he's seen of a young Bug and he's taken his share of photos of her himself, but he finds himself taken in by it anyway.

It has to be a picture from when Bug was really young, she still had the scrunched up, red face that he associates with newborns. But he thinks you're right, she's still cute. He doesn't know if it's because he knows that baby will grow up to be your daughter, but he finds his thumb caressing her little baby cheeks, the wisps of hair he can see peaking out from where she's wrapped in a baby blanket. It's then he sees she's not alone in the picture and there's a different version of you holding her.

The thing that stands out to him is how tired you look. He thinks this couldn't have been too long after you gave birth but still, he wondered if you'd gotten any rest those first few months. You still didn't like talking about your ex, or the circumstances that had led you to his apartment, but Sukuna knew that chances are you were taking care of Bug single handedly and that couldn't have been easy, cutest kid or not.

"She was beautiful, she still is." He reluctantly hands the phone back to you and you look at the picture again, tears building up in your eyes.

"She is the best thing that has ever happened to me. I-I wish that the circumstances were different in how I got her. Sometimes, I wonder how I'll explain everything to her when she's older. She just deserves so much better than him, you know?"

"You both do." Sukuna reaches over and brushes away one of the tears that had managed to fall down your cheek. He leaves his hand there a moment, holding your cheek in his palm, just appreciating the warmth.

"Do you want any?"

"What?" Sukuna isn't sure what you're talking about anymore. He can only see your lips right in front of him, the way that your eyelashes brush against your cheek as you blink faster and faster.

"Babies, do you want any?"

Something short circuits in Sukuna's brain and he wants to say, fuck yes.

He wants to tell you that he thinks about it every day. Every time you put Bug on your hip or send him youtube videos of hairstyles you want to try on her. Whenever it's late at night, and little feet pad out of your room and Bug asks him in the loudest whisper he's ever heard, if he can get her some water because she's so thirsty.

He thinks about it when the sun streams through the curtains of his apartment in the morning and it lights up your hair as you move throughout the kitchen, a force of nature, a creature from somewhere far too good to have ended up here with him.

He thinks about it when the three of you go out and people just assume you're a family, because of course you're a family. When you and Bug play some made up game, or Bug gets tired even though she denies it and he carries her sleeping form against his chest. When he holds her in his lap on the subway and you lean to rest your head on his shoulder and he feels like this, this is what he's always wanted.

He's not all pure and good though, because he thinks about it late at night in his bedroom too. After a day of your smiles, of seeing your thighs stretch out of those sleep shorts you started wearing when the weather warmed up, whenever he remembers the feel and smell of your panties when he's lucky enough to find a pair in the laundry basket, he thinks about how the two of you would make some really cute fucking babies.

He's imagined it a million ways. He's imagined you telling him you've gone off your birth control and you need him now after he takes you out on an anniversary dinner. Or him crowding you up against the kitchen counter and you begging him to put a baby in you.

His favorite fantasy is currently one where you get so carried away when you finally finally fuck that you don't ask him to wear a condom and he spends the whole night making sure you're nice and good and full of him and when you tell him a few weeks later you missed your period, he'll let you freak out. But then he'll tell you that he'll take good care of you, and Bug, and your soon to be little one and he'll finally have you, all of you and once you have your second, he'll knock you up again, as many times as he can because there could never be too many mini-you's running around.

At this point, Sukuna remembers he's talking to you, the real you and he swallows a few times before he speaks.

"I do," he says simply but something must show on his face because you're looking at him in a way you never have before. He hears your breath hitch and he leans in to kiss you, and you smell so good and his thoughts are consumed by the little family he just knows you're going to have when suddenly he's pelted by a variety of sharp, little objects.

Sukuna immediately holds up his arm to shield you from what he now sees is a barrage of wood chips which are being thrown at you by an army of toddlers, including your daughter.

You immediately get up and start talking to the kids about the danger of throwing what are basically large future splinters at people's faces and Sukuna is contemplating the murder of every child that isn't his own when you turn to look at him.

You're not just looking at him, you're seeing him and oh. Maybe he would be getting laid tonight, after all.

The slow burn is almost done folks.

thank you to the amazing reception to this series and the one-shot I posted(which there will be a prequel of soon!). it's literally so insane. Masterlist will be up tomorrow which I hope helps with accessibility!

edit: masterlist is up!

#jjk sukuna #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna ryomen #sukuna x reader #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you #sukuna x singlemomreader #sukuna ryomen smut

[peachdues]

IN THE NETHERWOOD

PART I

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just like his four other previous wives.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you being pursued?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

“Where did you get that cloak?”

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

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

“How do you mean?” 

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

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

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

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

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

----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Torches.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You scowled. “He is not my fiancé,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And the two of you set off into the Netherwood.

———

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

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

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

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

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

“No.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

The journey was taking longer than Sanemi originally believed.

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

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

You hadn’t meant to stumble across it. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he had. 

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

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

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

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

“You should be,” Sanemi answered. 

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

Sanemi swallowed hard. “Perhaps.” 

You took another step. “Recently?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Perhaps. I’m quite scary.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your name.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’d as good as doomed him. 

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

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

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

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

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

You’d grown up alongside it, after all.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And Sanemi told you to run.

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

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

You had to. You would.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Alone. You were completely and utterly alone. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you kill them?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

At least it had not been entirely flayed open. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And Sanemi noticed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You craved that feeling — craved him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was a sight to behold. 

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

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

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

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

You frowned. “Too close for what —“

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

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

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

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

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

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

Another amused chuff. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You balked at him. “A bite?” 

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

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

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

You gulped. “Would you have to transform?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was dangerous; it was thrilling.

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

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

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

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

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

—-

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

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

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

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

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

The thought made your stomach clench painfully.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sanemi hesitated.

“Wolf?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You still did.

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

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

Sanemi hesitated again. “Wolves only mark once.”

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

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

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

He’d put you first.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And apparently, he enjoyed playing with his food.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#demon slayer #sanemi shinazugawa #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #kny #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

[thestuffedalligator]

The giant was in an iron cage that had once held an elephant in the menagerie.

Here in the dungeons, it was still too small for it to sit up in. It was lying on its side, knees drawn up to its chest, facing the opposite wall.

Gretta had been forbidden to see it. Well, no, that wasn’t right – nobody had even told Gretta that it was here. Her sisters and the staff of the castle had apparently been expressly forbidden to tell her, but Margit had a soft heart and told her the night before that they had finally caught the giant.

It stung that even her little sister had been told and that she hadn’t.

She didn’t sleep after that, and she spent the long morning looking for an opportunity to slip away. Now in the gloom of the dungeon, she stood in the entranceway and watched the slow rise and fall of the giant’s breathing.

She could feel the heart in her chest beating, a quick thud-dump, thud-dump, thud-dump that shook her whole body. Once upon a time the giant was a menace that had pillaged and ransacked the whole western coast of the kingdom. It was a story her mother had told her and her sisters and had made Margit burst into tears in the middle of the night–

“I know that heartbeat.”

Gretta froze. The words had been slow, and low, and had made pebbles on the stone floor shiver.

Chains started to jingle together. “That is a heart I’ve not heard beat in three long years,” the giant said as it started to turn in its cage. “I’d know it anywhere.”

The giant settled on its other side. In the low glow of the dungeon’s torches, its grin gleamed like rubies.

“Hello again,” the giant rumbled. “Do you remember me?”

Gretta swallowed. She remembered–

She remembered being lulled to sleep as the carriage rocked on the highland road. She remembered the door being pulled off its hinges with a shower of splinters. She remembered the grey hand as wide as a wagon wheel reaching out to her–

She remembered waking up with a long, delicate stitch along her sternum.

Her hand reached unthinking to feel the long scar under her shirt.

“Yes,” she said. “You’re the giant who put its heart in my chest.”

“I missed the sound of it. It’s beating fast, so very fast.” The ruby grin flashed again. “Are you frightened of me?”

Gretta stared. Then she set her shoulders and turned her chin up to a haughty angle. “I’m not frightened of an animal in a cage,” she said.

The grin vanished. “Fine,” it said. The chains rattled again as it turned to stare up at the ceiling.

“I want to know why you did it.”

There was a very long, thoughtful pause. For a moment she was worried it wasn’t going to speak.

“I’m sure you guessed,” it finally rumbled. “The queen did – she only caught me to confirm what she already knew. A giant cannot be killed while its heart is outside of its body.” Another sound of metal as it shrugged. “Other giants bury their hearts or hide them in an egg in a duck in a well in a church on an island. I wanted something more… certain.”

“And that’s why you chose me?”

The giant was silent. The heart in her chest continued to beat, thud-dump, thud-dump, thud-dump…

The giant sighed. “It was never meant to be you,” it said. “I meant to grab the seventh daughter.”

Gretta blinked. “Margit?”

“Oh yes. Sweet, simpering, insipid Margit, who still sings with the birds and cries over baby animals. The kingdom would’ve had a conniption over having to kill her to kill me – if they did, it would be such a heinous death that they would remember it for generations in song and story. And I would’ve gotten my immortality either way.

“Instead I got you.” The giant looked back at Gretta and gave her a look of such contempt she nearly reeled. “You,” the giant said again, and she had never heard the word said with more disgust. “Who cares about you.”

“Excuse me!”

“Sixth of seven daughters,” the giant said. “Not the eldest, not the youngest, not even a proper middle child. An extra. A spare. Worthless, except for maybe an interesting marriage.”

“You have no right to–”

“They’ll just kill you.”

The dungeon was suddenly deathly still.

“They won’t be happy about it,” the giant continued, turning to stare at the ceiling again. “They’ll be very somber and austere and I have no doubt that Margit will cry over you, as she does over all little animals about to die. But they’ll say that you’re more valuable dead than I am alive, and so for the sake of the kingdom you will be given the noble task of dying. And that will be the end of us both.”

Gretta opened her mouth. She closed her mouth. She opened her mouth again. “Is that it?! If you’re so sure, why don’t you – why don’t you break out of your chains? Ransack the castle? Run back to your mountain, do something?”

“What an odd thing to say,” the giant said. “You know that if I live, I can escape to murder and pillage and ransack again. Surely, any good princess would want only the best for their people.”

Gretta said nothing. The heart in her chest went thud-dump, thud-dump, thud-dump…

She could feel the giant’s grin. “The queen had me captured so she could confirm what she already knew,” it said. “It seems to me that you’re here to do something very similar.”

Halfway up the stairs from the dungeon, Gretta ran into her mother.

Gretta stared. Her mother blinked. Gretta considered her options.

She set her head at a haughty angle. “I know you caught it,” she said.

There was a very long, thoughtful pause.

“What did it tell you?” her mother asked.

Gretta looked at her mother. She looked at her mother’s hand on the hilt of her sword.

She felt the beat of her heart go thud-dump, thud-dump, thud-dump.

“Nothing I didn’t already know,” she said.

She ran away that night.

#fairy tales #the giant who had no heart in its body #fantasy #fantasy writing #giants #short story #narrativia #hm. tried to hit a specific vibe with this one. don't know if i hit it

[aemondtargaryenonlyfans]

Gif 16 for Daemon 🤓 and maybe size kink? You can add a kink if it fits the story! And I'm happy with any AU... you can decide!😄

Thank uu!! 💕

KINKTOBER SLEEPOVER.

No. 10 -> GIF.

Modern!Daemon Targaryen x fem!Reader

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT-MINORS DNI; p in v, reverse cowgirl, overstimulation, size kink, dumbification, cream pie, daddy kink, praise kink, power imbalance, dacryphilia, slight gaslighting, pussy slapping, female reader, modern Daemon

WORDS: 1.4 K

NOTES: Hello and welcome to my modern!Daemon debut. Added a few kinks to this lmao. I hope it lives up to your expectations and thanks for requesting this Vanessa. 🤍

You had long stopped bouncing up and down on Daemon’s thick cock like a dumb bunny, reduced to nothing more than a squirming and whining mess with orgasm number three rippling through your body. 

He had a strong arm snaked around your waist to keep you firmly pinned against his broad chest, fingers intertwined for you to keep yourself grounded, whilst his other hand had made itself at home between your legs, rubbing your clit with reckless abandon. It sent wave after wave of fire through your veins, the burning between your legs apparent by the way you squeezed them shut only for him to pry them apart right after. 

Tilting your head forwards, you caught a glimpse of his thick cock splitting your poor pussy open, sheathed inside of you and filling you to the brim. That sight alone was arousing enough to push you into a frenzy, mind clouded by his domineering and intoxicating presence. He was so, so much bigger than you, always towering over you and caging you in like a little bird, but you could always leave if you wanted. If. 

“Stupid girl makin’ such a mess for me,” Daemon rasped with his nose pressed against your cheek, his calloused fingers smearing the renewed wave of your arousal over your swollen folds, and he felt most of it trickling down his big cock and heavy balls. 

It was astonishing he managed to stay hard for so long, since he had reached his own orgasm somewhere between your first and second. “Don’t you like this, baby?”

Uneven breaths shook your body, interrupted by a cry that followed the harsh slap his hand served to your pulsing pussy. The smacking sound of it colliding with your cunt made your wetness more apparent to you, sending heat straight to your cheeks. “I asked you a question.” His voice was sharp, demanding. 

“I-I,” you stuttered, your mind too hazy to even process his words in the slightest. “No… Daemon,” you whined, unable to relax with his fingers strumming your clit, “it’s too-too much.” 

Daemon mouthed along your jaw, licking up the tears that had brimmed in your eyes and ran down your cheeks. A mocking chuckle fanned over your damp skin, adding to the humiliation you felt. “Don’t call me that,” he rasped, sinking his teeth into your skin. The bite stung, yet it was not at all as uncomfortable as the stinging and burning between your legs. It was the familiar stinging from being stretched out by him, but he was still so big, you had to accommodate him somehow. “Say it, or I’ll get a lot meaner.”

His cock dragging along your sweet spot as he thrusted up into you once elicited a quiet mewl to slip past your lips, your face contorting in both pleasure and pain. “Mh… I-,” you whimpered, tipping your head back and taking in a deep breath. “T-Too much, daddy.” 

Knowing you could make use of your safe word if it truly got too much for you, he didn’t stop the ministrations of his fingers, circling your clit and dragging them through your soaked folds. 

Daemon groaned against the side of your face as your body subconsciously started to grind back and forth against his hand, sucking him in and practically choking his cock.

“Fuck,” he panted, seemingly needing a few moments to regain his composure. “Just can’t get enough of you and this sweet, little cunt of yours… always driving me mad when she’s squeezing me this tight.” At this point he was just rambling, the praise surging straight to your head – and down between your legs. 

The interplay between the stinging pain and pleasure was driving you insane, bordering on the fine line to madness and being oddly addicting. Paired with his praise, the coil in your belly pulled tighter, and not too slowly. 

“Your pussy is fuckin’ weeping for me, bunny,” he continued, spurred on by the clenching of your walls around him, “gripping me so tight, fuck, as if she doesn’t want me to leave.”

Daemon had you quivering on his cock, grunts and groans spewed with expletives tumbling over his lips. Your legs clamped around his thighs, locking him balls-deep in hopes of stopping him from thrusting up into you. 

“Just one more, c’mon,” he drawled, his other hand releasing yours, darting up to grab your chin and force your face toward him. This allowed him to press his lips to yours in a fervent kiss, his tongue licking its way into your mouth, swirling around yours. The intensity had you squeezing your eyes shut, your whimpers greedily swallowed by him. 

As he pulled back to catch his breath, you looked at him with half-lidded eyes, meekly shaking your head. His blue ones, on the other hand, appeared glazed over, hazy with lust as he fucked up into you.

Your mind and body were so filled with Daemon that breathy gasps and quiet whines were the only things leaving your lips, occasionally accompanied by daddies and oh gods. 

But Daemon wasn’t having any of it. 

He released your face, groping at your breast and pinching your nipple instead, while he dragged the tip of his nose along your cheek. “Oh, yes, you can,” he rasped, mockingly, the softness with which he had spoken before long gone. “Don’t you want to make daddy proud, pretty girl? Huh?” Oh, how badly you wanted to please him and make him proud. You always did. 

You whined in despair, no chance for your lips to push into a pout with his thick cock driving deeper, a deliberate thrust of him forcing your pussy to take him.

The motions of his fingers stilled for a moment, and you basked in the feigned calmness of him finally stopping his attack on your clit – only for them to be replaced by the pad of his thumb, applying a bit of pressure as it circled over your little bud.

Your fourth orgasm hit so suddenly that Daemon was surprised. Fucking you through it, he buried his nose in your hair, his wanton groans adding to the pleasure that rippled through you. 

“Look at that,” he cooed, his eyes flickering between your fucked-out expression and your tits, mesmerized as they bounced each time he forced his cock back into you. “Aren’t you daddy’s good girl, mh?”

You trembled under his touch as his fingers still continued their assault on your body despite the aftershocks slowly subsiding, not able to focus on his praise.

When you tried to push his hand away, he merely tutted, but was generous enough to give in to your wishes, since you had given him exactly what he desired. 

It was not always about fucking you just to spill his seed for him. Sometimes, he just craved to display the dominance he held over you, using you however he pleased, and coaxing orgasm after orgasm out of your wrecked, little body.

And tonight, he had done just that.

Releasing a shaky breath, your spent body toppled back against his sturdy frame, secured by his strong arms around your waist. Your heart hammered against your chest, threatening to explode at any given moment with how badly your body was shaking from four overstimulated orgasms.

There was a comfortable silence surrounding you two, only broken by his raspy voice piercing through it. “Up for a shower, sweet thing?” he crooned against the sensitive spot behind your ear before pressing a soft kiss to it, and you didn’t even have to look at his face to know there was a smug smirk adorning his chiseled features. 

But with how well he had fucked you, he deserved to be smug about it.

“That sounds good,” you panted, reaching behind you to slowly curl your fingers into his soft, silver tresses, prompting him to gently bump his forehead against the side of your face. 

Something reignited the flame inside of him at that moment. Something that came every time you focused your attention on him in a non-sexual way. It was clear he was not done with you yet – not when his half-hard cock still was throbbing inside of you. 

However, a shower seemed like a good way to catch a little break for the sleepless night that lay ahead of you. 

#house of the dragon #hotd #daemon fanfic #daemon targaryen #daemon x reader #daemon smut #daemon fic #hotd daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen imagine #daemon targaryen smut #modern daemon targaryen #modern!daemon targaryen #modern house of the dragon #hotd modern au #modern hotd #modern!hotd #daemon targaryen x female reader #daemon targaryen x y/n #daemon x y/n #daemon x you #hotd x y/n #hotd x reader #hotd fanfic #hotd imagine #hotd smut #house of the dragon fic #house of the dragon daemon

[jarofstyles]

Illicit 10

Here we are, babes. The last official part of the main Illicit story. It’s bittersweet because I finally completed something lmao but also, I really love them and their story.

Safe to say this isn’t the last you’ll see of them. I’m fully planning on doing little flashbacks and check ins with them, feel free to let me know what you would like to see/if you have any unanswered questions. Thank you for reading!

Check out our Patreon for early access and 160+ exclusive writings

Illicit masterlist

WC- 3.3k

Warnings- mention of wounds, stitching, having children, marriage talk, nightmares, etc

——-

“Harry, for the love of god, please be careful of your arm.” Y/N winced in worry as the man carried firewood over to their fire pit. He had not been taking his injury half as seriously as he had been taking Y/N’s concussion, treating her like the ‘delicate little bird she was.’ He’d gotten an eye roll for that. Of course he wasn’t letting her help lug the wood for their night in front of the fire. She’d requested with sleepy eyes earlier in the morning to make smores because they’d been in her dream and Harry was giving her basically anything she wanted. 

“M’fine, baby.” He laughed, appreciating her concern but knowing the injury barely stung anymore. “The stitches are coming out tomorrow, and we pushed it, keeping them until then. Only kept them because you wanted me to.” 

It had been about 2 weeks since the attack and they’d left for the lake house. As much as he knew it was terrifying for the both of them, he was utterly relieved to have Katherine behind bars. He’d made sure to keep updated by his contact in the force to know what was happening with her case. Apparently she had really lost it, but Harry didn’t give a fuck. He wanted her to rot behind bars, to live miserably and have Y/N be safe without the threat of some crazy ex-who-isn’t-an-ex looming in the background. 

Harry had kept work to a minimum, only logging in to oversee the decisions he had to make. There had been no calls besides the nightly one with his COO to ensure things were running smoothly. Other than that, his entire attention had been on Y/N. They’d barely left the house considering at first Y/N had been a bit embarrassed of her injuries. Another reason he’d hate Katherine until the day he died. Harry always was one to hold grudges, he was infamous for it. She’d never know peace if the man had anything to do with it. 

They were healing incredibly well, Harry taking the time at night to set her on the bathroom counter and wipe them clean and apply the healing ointment to them. The only one that was more than a fading scab was the one on her head along with the slight discoloration the black eye had caused. Other than that, he was more than relieved to see her bouncing back. The only thing that plagued him still was the nightmare. 

His nightmares. 

They’d always start the same, almost a play by play of what had happened to him walking into the home and up the stairs- only when he got there it had been too late. In his nightmare, the knife had already taken Y/N’s life and he couldn’t do anything to save her. He always woke up before the knife struck him, but it actually hurt him. It was a little difficult for him to admit to her, always wanting to be the strong one when it came to their pairing- someone for her to lean on fully- but she had cried once he told her and insisted that she wanted to be there for him. That a partnership was made out of balance and while she could offer him some of the same things he did for her, she was more than capable to be his emotional shoulder to cry on. It had been a tough thing to come to terms with but this week seemed to be healing. Not just physically, either. 

“Ms. Greta, please tell him to take it easy.” Y/N pouted at the older woman who brought out the tray of s’more making supplies. She’d made sure to add the peanut butter cups as requested. 

“I’m afraid if he won’t listen to you, he won’t listen to anyone.” She chuckled. “Men will be men, and that includes straining their physical health for the macho man act. One day they learn we do know what we are talking about.” A little wink was sent her way as Harry huffed, arranging the wood in the fire pit with a grumble. 

“Because I’m fine.” He stressed, standing up straight and crossing his arms. “It’s healed up nicely. I’m more than capable of setting up a little fire.” Crossing over to Y/N, he stole a kiss before grabbing the lighter and a few other things. “Just sit pretty and let your man do the work, baby. I’ve got it.” 

There was a snort heard from both women but Ms. Greta was now off the clock, wishing them a good night before retreating into the house. As much as he loved having the woman around, he really was obsessed with this alone time with Y/N. There was the residual guilt he had over her being treated less than ideally because he was juggling the faux relationship and the contract, but he knew now that he was going to have to take a bit of a step back from work in order to do that. He’d delegate as he was supposed to be doing to begin with, assign more to his assistant, take Y/N more places and on more dates out in public. He couldn’t fucking wait to attent events with her and show her off. 

He’d been waiting months to let people know who his heart belonged to, and he was finally getting the chance to do so. It was obvious now since the articles had been a media frenzy over the attack, things leaked he couldn’t pinpoint. The only thing he had been commenting on was the fact that Y/N wasn’t a mistress, Katherine wasn’t his lover that was scorned, and there was no true excuse for the actions. It was a good thing in hindsight that they were there, alone. No one had a true clue about the location and he didn’t feel like being hounded by paparazzi- though hopefully they knew better now than to test him and his hatred for the cameras.

One thing that had been burning into him, though, was a question he’d been wanting to ask her. One he knew that was a bit unorthodox but a necessary one nonetheless. 

She sat across his lap, his hoodie covering her tank top and denim shorts as her legs swung slightly while they waited for the fire to burn a bit hotter so they could roast their marshmallows.

“When would you like to get married?” He asked. “And how many kids are we thinking about?” 

The girl nearly snapped her neck as she looked at him with wide eyes, the not so casual question leaving his mouth as if it was him asking what she wanted for dinner. Harry always did find a way to shock the hell out of her but this was definitely one of the top questions that had caught her off guard.  Secretly, she’d assumed Harry had that all figured out. He always made sure to let her know how much he appreciated her opinions and her thoughts, that they were important to him- but he was a planner. Harry was the man in charge and she was happy to let him be. It took a lot of weight off of her shoulders that she wouldn’t admit to anyone else actually weighed on her. 

“Uh…” She blinked at him a few times. “I’m not sure. Kinda figured you’d be the one to pop the question. But honestly… Maybe a year? A few months? I dunno.” There was a slight lump in her throat. “I’ve no doubt I want to be with you the rest of my life so part of me feels like I’d probably be fine eloping right now if that was something you wanted but… We haven't really had the chance to be a couple out in the open. While I doubt that’s going to change much considering we feel so strongly, I think it would be kind to ourselves to let us iron out some of the details first before we fully tie the knot.” There wasn’t a right or wrong answer but it still made her a little nervous to answer. “As for kids? I’m not sure. 2? 3? I’d probably say we have one first and figure it out from there.” It wasn’t like they’d have to worry about resources externally but she knew Harry valued family more than anything and he’d want to be an active father. He’d already indulged that detail to her one night when they were particularly loved up. However, neither of them had any children so they didn’t know the workload it would entail, nor did they know how they’d work as parents. Of course they’d figure it out but it would make it a bit more clear on how many they could handle.

“First of all, as much as I’d love to call you my wife right this second… I could never deprive you of the wedding you deserve.” Y/N had told him about the fact that she had always dreamt about her wedding as a little girl. She had pinterest boards full of themes and wedding dresses she’d want to try and cake designs. He wasn’t about to deprive her of those things for his selfish needs.. Harry knew he was indeed a selfish bastard in every other facet of his life, but when it came to Y/N and his soon to be family? That was his only exception. “My mum would probably keel over dead if I did that too. Trust me, you’re going to get your princess wedding.” There was no debating that. “And for kids… I’d love to give you many, many babies.” His tone turned smooth, a little smirk lighting up his face and the twinkle of his eye. “But I think I agree. My idea had been 2-4, but I’ll take as many as you’ll give me. Always.” His hand pulled her in so he could press a kiss to her cheek, muttering a soft declaration of love. 

“Love you more.” She sighed, leaning further into his chest. “I’m so happy that we can live our lives when we get back. I know it’ll probably be a little crazy but there's no more hiding. We can go out and hold hands and kiss, people are going to know we belong to each other.” The giddiness on her face was bittersweet. “I’m so excited to be with you properly.”

The tinge of guilt hit him full on in the stomach, making him frown as he looked into the fire. He knew he had fucked up several times on this journey and Y/N just had a lot of patient and given him a lot of grace when he knew for a fact most other people wouldn’t- but that made it feel a little worse. He’d been wrong in not ditching the contract immediately. “Baby?” He said, voice quieter as he met her eyes. “I’m sorry. Genuinely sorry that I’m a stubborn son of a bitch and I didn’t just dissolve the contract and take on a lawsuit. I should have done it the day I met you because I knew you were going to mean a lot to me even there. I… I know I’ve told you a lot how you were the first and only person to ever make me feel the way you do, but it’s more than that. And my hard headed shit got us into something awful. I know I fucked up and you are more generous than I deserve but…” His fingers tenderly moved the hair from her face, stroking her cool cheek. “I’m going to work every single day for the rest of my life to make it up to you. I’m going to make you the most spoiled, well traveled, happiest woman I possibly can.” His voice stayed quiet as he searched her eyes for any hint of resentment but somehow there wasn’t any there. 

“H.. I knew what I signed up for. You’d been nothing but honest with me the night I ignored you. You laid it all out for me. I knew that you were taken in name only and I liked you so much that I agreed. I never felt like I played second to her. You can say a lot of things about you, lovely, but subtle isn’t one of those things. You never made me feel like she was important. I understood how important your business was to you- it’s the most important thing to you. Did I like seeing you with her? No. But you made it so clear to me that I was yours and you were mine, I never felt like… I never had any competition.” Y/N tried to soothe the ache she knew he felt. Of course she hadn’t liked people thinking he belonged to someone else but she knew he loved her. The most she had ever been loved, the most unashamed. 

“First, I have a correction- You are the most important thing to me. I’d give it all up for you.” That wasn’t a sentence anyone could take lightly, nor one he would ever thought he would say. It used to be the truth, but now it was far from it. “You are my life.” His gaze bore into her own as he cupped her cheek.  “There was never any competition. If we want the honest truth, I thought I’d marry as a business decision. I thought I’d probably not have any kids considering I only ever wanted children out of love. I was happy working until I was gray and about to keel over. Business was my only reason for being, and it wasn’t something I minded- but you gave my life so much more, so much color, my angel.” He’d never sounded more fond in his life, looking at his heaven sent gift perched in his lap. “I didn’t realize there was more to life until I met you. You opened my eyes and made my heart soften. I give a shit about a lot more than numbers now and it’s because of you.” 

People could say he did it himself but he knew the truth. Without meeting Y/N his life would have been the same robotic function it had been since he got out of uni, and he wouldn’t have complained. He’d never know how much he would miss out on. “I thank whoever in the world sent you to me every damn day and you know m’not religious. You are my miracle. It made me feel so fucking sick walking in that house and thinking you were hurt, I have never in my life felt that sort of terror. But I’d do it all again in order to keep you.” The scar on his arm was a reminder of that. 

“I love you, H. The most in the world.” Her eyes watered a little as she smiled at him. “I’m sorry you got scared. I was scared too, scared she would do worse with that knife though I’m still upset you got hurt at all. But I’d go through every bit of it again too.” She sniffled, feeling his thumb brush under her eye as a tear fell. “I know I want everything with you. The marriage and babies and our own house with a pool, if that’s something you want too. You’re the love of my life.” 

“And you’re mine.” He mumbled, pressing his lips to hers. “M’gonna spend every day proving that to you. Just wait and see, my angel. My heart is yours.”  

—-------

Nails dug into Harry’s back as he rocked slowly into his girl in their brand new home. One he’d bought her as a surprise when they arrived back into the city, leaving their old memories behind in the other penthouse and moving on to the next chapter in the rest of their lives. 

“H-Harry…” She bleated, holding on to him while the other hand grabbed his face and pulled his face down so he could be kissed. “Thank you. You always take c-care of me.”

His pace as slow and deep, pressing in as far as he could go on the brand new sheets they’d picked out together. The sunset bled into their room as they breathed each other in, wrapped up in their covers on their first night sleeping there. He’d spared no expense making sure he got the best of the best for her. He was dedicated to the cause, dedicated to proving to her that she was the most precious thing to him in the world. 

“M’always going to take care of you, my love.” He nudged his nose against hers as he dipped his hips to get deeper inside of her. It was like they couldn’t get close enough to one another, her legs wrapped snug around his hips while he kept himself up with one hand, the other under her neck. The term making love was fully about this. It was unmistakable. “You were made for me.” 

He couldn’t wait to spend every morning like this for the rest of his life. The man who used to cringe at the idea of fucking anyone face first now had it as his preferred position, wanting to make sure he could see every second of her reactions to him. She was snug around his cock, taking him like it was her only job in the world. He’d had no problem doing only this for the rest of his life. 

“And you were… you were made for me. We’re made for each other.” Y/N nodded, pressing another open mouthed kiss to his lips as he kept the steady pace, hitting the delicious spot he always knew how to find. “You know my body perfectly. It’s yours forever.” It was both the truth and a bit of a taunt, knowing how much he loved when she spoke like that. 

“You are. You’re mine and m’all yours, never have to share me. I love you so fucking much, Y/N.” He whimpered as her fingers tangled in his hair, tugging on it as she was filled over and over again. He hit the perfect spot and was trying to get her to cum, trying to have her finish all over him so he could do the same and stay deep inside for a while. Craving this sort of closeness was an addiction, one he didn’t plan on cutting. The obsession with Y/N grew each and every day. “I can’t wait to make you my wife.”

The woman whined out his name at the last sentence, tugging him closer with her legs as she soaked up every bit of heat from him. It didn’t matter what happened, who tried to get in their way- they would always belong to one another. There was an understanding between both of them knowing this love was bone deep, soul deep, it only deepened by the day. When it felt like they couldn’t love each other more it just kept growing, no matter how full they felt. It was everything. 

A love like this was something people revered as pure, perfect, something that everyone craved and yearned for. Something out of a book or a movie, the sort of feeling that trumps all other people and situations. Their passion and yearning for one another had been cultivated in anything but pureness, it was made in the dark. It always made him laugh a little to know that such a concept had blossomed into a real, tangible thing that he could feel between their bodies, something he could see when he looked at her, something he could taste when he kissed her. 

A love that stayed between the lines wasn’t the type that grew stronger- that’s why he smiled when they called it illicit.

#jarofstyles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #harry writing #harry styles imagine #harry drabble #harry styles blurb #harry styles writing #harry styles au #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry angst #harry fluff #harry smut #asshole h #asshole Harry #illicit

[beautyinsage]

Thought of you

Gojo really likes your dress.

gojo x reader.

cw: smut, light choking, scratching, breeding kink? i guess, moves that might be slightly... not possible

“I like this dress,” Gojo murmured into your neck, piercing you from behind with deep, languid thrusts.

“Thanks,” you managed breathlessly as your palms pressed onto the mirror in front of you. With how hard he was gripping your hips, you were surprised that it wasn’t ripping at the seams. “I thought of you when I bought it.”

Gojo’s hips stuttered and he paused, leaning forward before turning your head so that he could look you in the eyes. “What?”

Ah, shit. He wasn’t supposed to know that part.

“O-oh, nothing,” you manage to stutter, embarrassment flooding your cheeks. You attempted to thrust your hips back against him to encourage him to keep going, but his hands pressed you down into the counter, keeping you so firmly in place at the edge that it stung your skin. You bit your lip as his sharp gaze never left yours, crystal blue eyes making you nervous. Clenching around him, you couldn’t help but look away; that, apparently, was not acceptable to him — God, in what world would his ego let that slide? — and he gripped your chin, forcing you to look at him. 

“T-Toru—ah!” Whatever pathetic excuse or deflection that you were trying to stammer out in that moment was quickly interrupted by a deep thrust, one that made you take every inch of him, and you knew you were at his mercy.

“y/n.” 

And with that, the words tumbled out of your mouth before you could even think to stop them. “I bought this dress because it reminded me of your eyes.”

His expression went blank for a second, but before you could blink, he pulled out of you, flipped you over and lifted you in his right arm easily, desperate lips connecting with yours. You let out a squeal of surprise as you instinctually wrapped your legs around his and your back hit the cool tile behind you. Your left hand tangled in his hair and pulled tightly while the right scratched at his back to the point you knew he would have marks in the morning. Quickly using his free hand to realign himself, he thrust into you deeply, a moan leaving both of you as he set a frantic pace, pounding perfectly at your sweet spot. “Fucking hell, y/n,” he panted as he used his left hand to grip at your throat and squeeze lightly, “you’re gonna make me fuck a baby into you, I fucking swear.” 

That was it. That was it. His name, disguised as a broken moan, escaped you and you shattered in his arms, wave after wave of ecstasy tumbling through your veins as his brutal thrusts only continued, coaxing out every last drop of your orgasm. 

“S-Shit, you’re so fucking tight when you cum, I swear,” he practically whimpered as you clenched around him, on the precipice of finishing himself. He released your throat and placed both hands on your hips as his thrusts got harder and faster than you thought to be possible. After a few seconds, his breath quickened and he buried his face into your neck. “Too fucking good—so fucking good to me. Fuck, I’m gonna cum—F-Fuck!” 

You closed your eyes, savoring the feeling of him pulsing inside you as he groaned against your skin, biting at the supple skin as he tried to silence himself a bit. The bathroom you had escaped to suddenly felt very quiet, noise absent outside of your heavy breathing intermingling. 

“Whatever you want,” he murmured against your pulse, placing a tender kiss by the surely forming bite marks. “In that color, whatever you fucking want sweetheart.” 

a/n: i was high as shit when i wrote this sorry. also i think this is hotter when you hate each other but can't stop fucking

#sloppy writing i'm sorry #but it was fun #gojo smut #gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru smut #jjk smut #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk gojo

[kib-ble]

medical leave

(simon ‘ghost’ riley x gn! reader)

summary: simon comes home from a long mission on medical leave and he doesn’t tell you because it will worry you

*i tried to write simon where he’s kinda clueless on how to comfort the reader, but kinda made it not like that, idk, enjoy!*

when simon arrived home the lights were off, a few notable changes were made, and you were fast asleep on the couch. a quiet movie lit up the room, showing how comfy your make-shift bed was. he smiled at this. you didn’t know he was coming home this early but you also didn’t know he was gonna be gone this long.

‘it’s only three months,’ simon promised the night before he left. his hands on your waist. your hands on his face, holding his jaw. your thumb brushed against the spikes of stubble on his jaw, he never had the chance to shave. the two of you held each other close, allowing your scents to waft to each other. it was relaxing.

it was five months later when he returned. he knew it would’ve been more if price didn’t put him on medical leave, you didn’t have to know that.

“oh love..” simon dropped his bag full of equipment and slowly walked over to your sleep form. his hand softly pushed the hair out of your face before lifting his mask and giving you a kiss on your cheek. he pulled the covers up on you more and moved to walk to the bathroom.

once he successfully got his gear off, with not much sound, he carefully took of his shirt to show the bloody bandage on his lower abdomen. he had just got it changed before he left but the stab was deep to continue to bleed even after it was stitched up.

he gently peeled off the tape and replaced the padded bandage. the wound stung as the bandage was pressed against it, but atleast is wasn’t infected.

when he had finished washing his body with a loofa, as to not get water in the bandage, he got changed and went to go get you from the couch.

he carefully kneeled down next to the couch and rubbed your shoulder to gently wake you up. when your eyes slowly opened and your mind was cleared of all delusions, you finally realized that it was simon infront of you, not a total stranger.

the shocked face you apparently made got a soft chuckle out him before you jumped into his arms. an ‘oof’ like noise came out of him as he fell back to the ground. your legs wrapped around his waist and pressed against his bandage earning a quiet hiss out of him as well. concerned moved through your body as you looked at him.

“what happened?” you hands cupped his face as you looked into his eyes. his hands held your waist as he gently squeezed it.

“i’m fine, just sore” he promised. you nodded and continued to hug him. your arms tighten around his neck as his arms tighten around your waist. he carefully, and somehow successfully, picked you off the ground and took you to your bedroom. simon gently set you down on the bed, then he got into the other side, cuddling up with you.

“i’m sorry i was gone so long, baby.” his hand came up to play with your hair as you laid on his chest. you looked up at him and smiled. you were always understandable about how much simon worked. it was his job and you were used to it. you did hate the thought of him getting hurt though, which is why he didn’t tell you about his injury.

your arm that laid across his abdomen, your hand softly rubbed his side. of course, it was the side with the obvious, bulky bandage on it. your hand slid across the tape before fully extending to land on the bandage itself, resulting in simon wincing once again.

you sat up abruptly, looking down at simon, who was still slightly recovering from the pain. “whats wrong?”

“nothing, love.. it’s nothing.” simon followed suit, sitting up as well. just a lot slower than you. “i promise.”

“simon,” you spoke firmly, “are you injured?”

he looked into your eyes, deciding it was best not to lie. he sighed and nodded, “yes, i got injured on my last mission, but i’m fine.”

“simon, are you kidding me?” you leaned your head back, eyes screwed shut. “what happened?”

“i got stabbed..” your eyes widened, which simon noticed very quickly, “love, i promise i’m fine.” he quickly spoke.

“simon, you got stabbed! how are you fine with that!?”

“obviously i’m not fine with it, but i handled it. i always do. you’re so worried over nothing..” he knew why you were worried. there would be a time when he didn’t come home from his job. a time where the 141 would show up at your home, carrying the rest of your boyfriends stuff, giving it to you and telling you the news. ‘we regret to inform you that simon ‘ghost’ riley has been killed in action. without his heroic selflessness, we could say that we would not be here to deliver you the flag of our country that ghost had fought so hard for.’

the thought of them showing up at your door had you in tears. you got out of bed and headed to the bathroom to wipe your eyes. you’re sniffling could be heard were simon sat, watching you. he felt terrible but he never meant to get injured and he never wanted to tell you.

“lovie, im sorry. i didn’t want to tell you cause i knew you’d feel terrible..” his soft words could barely be heard in the bathroom, but you understood. you looked over at him, wiping your remaining tears with your hand. “come here, lovie..”

his hand patted the spot next to him, where you were just laying with him. to no avail, you sat back down, not looking at him. “how bad is it?”

“it’s stitched up, but it bled a lot. not enough to make me loose consciousness though.” you nodded, moving your eyes to where his hand sat, which you could assume was right over the wound. simon noticed your staring, “it’s not a big wound, i got the son of a bitch before he could drag the knife.” he once again assured you.

another nod and you silently laid down, looking up at the ceiling. “i’m scared simon.” you whimpered.

“about what love?” simon looked down at you. your eyes closed once again and he noticed the few tears fall down your cheeks again. “oh, baby.”

he laid down next to you as your hugged him tight, you face mushed into his neck, arms carefully wrapping around his abdomen. “baby, it takes a lot to kill me.”

“i know, but-“

“no ‘buts’, im okay. i’ll be okay. i promise you. i’m not reckless and i would never try to get purposely get myself killed.” he held your face, focusing you on his words. “i promise..”

a small smile grew on your face, indicating you understood. a smile also grew on simons, which was just pure happiness and love for you. he hugged you close and you managed to fall asleep in his arms. it was late and he had woken you up from your nap before so you were still undoubtedly tired. your soft breathes managed to lull simon to sleep, too. which, again, wasn’t too hard since he was tired.

#cod mwii x reader #kibble writes cod #simon ghost riley x reader angst #simon riley angst #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley cod #ghost cod #call of duty #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #cod simon ghost riley #ghost x reader

[aidaronan]

Krampusnacht? More Like Krampus-Rocked

For @steddiemicrofic December's prompt: pine. 508 Words || Explicit || Tag it Monsterfucker Steve, BDSM, Spanking It was December, and there was a monster in Steve's bedroom.

Not a demogorgon, not a demoanything.

Something else. Something with cloven hooves and horns. Something that smirked with sharp teeth when Steve relaxed enough to talk, to—shit—to flirt.

He—Eddie apparently—hadn't come for Steve. He'd intended to visit Steve's parents, but some wires had gotten crossed in the magical lines of the universe. So Eddie didn't know Steve's parents had been gone for years, that at that point, Steve was basically acting as caretaker for their future retirement home.

"Is that pine?" Steve asked, staring at the long, wispy rod in Eddie's clawed hand.

"Birch." Eddie thwacked it gently into his opposite palm and then smirked. "Would you like to feel it?"

Something about the look in Eddie's eyes and his low tone of voice went right to Steve's cock. It was fucked up, wasn't it? To start flirting with an intruder, especially when that intruder was…

"Like, hold it?" Steve asked, voice weak as he stared at the apex of Eddie's furry thighs, at the thin scrap of rags he wore there and the obvious tent beneath.

"Or…" Eddie licked his teeth and offered an outstretched hand. "Other things."

Like snow, Steve found himself gently falling, bending over the side of his bed. Eddie's claws skimmed his hips as he worked Steve's shorts down.

The first blow was gentle, just enough to feel the impact. More surprise than pain. The second stung a little, like a sunburn just on the edge of a tan.

The third though—that one had Steve moaning, grinding his cock into the side of his mattress.

"Fuck," Eddie said, voice reverent. "Look at you. Dying for it already."

"Guessing this isn't how these things usually go," Steve panted, hips still circling, canting.

"Never even once. Another?"

"Please."

Eddie hit him again. All told, they got in six poetic licks before Steve needed more. Eddie let him peel the rags off, a thick pink-brown cock hiding underneath, pre-come beading at the tip.

Starving for it, Steve dragged his tongue through the deep slit, palming himself at the low growl it pulled out of Eddie.

"That's enough," Eddie said.

"What?"

"Oh I want you to, don't get me wrong. But I want to fuck it into your pert little ass even more."

Steve's exhale stuttered out of his throat. "Okay."

It was its own kind of torture, Eddie eating him out and fingering him until he could actually fit inside. It was worth it for the stretch of fullness, for the way each thrust hit true.

It was worth it, too, for Eddie's claws raking his skin. For each slap on already-tender flesh as they groaned like two animals instead of one.

They finished seconds apart, Eddie filling him with so much come that it overflowed, dripping off his balls.

After, they lay panting side-by-side, fingers intertwined.

"That was…" Steve turned his head. "You could come back, you know… if… if you…?"

Eddie smiled, teeth sharp and shiny. "Sweet Stevie baby, I'll move in tomorrow."

#steddiemicrofic #steddiemicroficdecember #steddie #fanfic #mine #here there be monsters

[wyn-n-tonic]

That's a Real Fucking Legacy: I Chose You

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader/former Tommy Miller x f!reader Word Count: 2.6k+ Warnings: Unprotected PiV. Soft Joel. Talk of death. The gif is JUST a gif, there are NO descriptions of reader, it's just a visual reference of movement. Author's Note: Thanks for all the patience with this installment. I have been working very hard on DoYaM and fit in bits and bobs of other things where I can. Cannot fully convey how grateful I am for all the kind words, I really hope you like this, too.

Please follow @wyn-writing and turn on updates for notifications. You can sign up for my taglist HERE.

That's A Real Fucking Legacy Masterlist

Everybody said it was an accident, that it could’ve happened to anybody.

But it didn’t happen to anybody, it happened to him.

Stopped for a pick up at a site out in Colorado, Joel left you and the baby to finally contribute and pull his weight—to feel useful. He’s been itching for it this whole time, getting out there and working off the energy that’s penning up inside his chest. He said he wanted to partake in something other than just keeping your daughter at peace.

You didn’t tell him he’d be taking yours away, too. 

They were ambushed by another group, a bunch of men looking for food to take back to their women and children apparently. It was a fucking gun fight and if the blood on his shirt was just from a bullet, maybe this wouldn’t feel like having all the air sucked from your lungs.

Baby could sense it, too, the fear and devastation seeping through your body as they brought him back with another goddamn hole in his body.

He’s got plenty at this point, angry red and deathly white scars pockmarking his body like some kind of topographical map. 

That’s all it is, just another scar to add to his collection and reminisce about as you trace it in the darkness of whatever shared space you end up in.

Except, they’re saying this one might not scar.

It might not even heal.

All the things he’s done throughout these years, all the things he done to protect you—to provide for you.

That’s all he was doing this time, too, and it breaks you down all over again as you pull Baby closer to your aching, carved out chest.

Everybody you have ever loved has either left or been taken away.

Tommy’s hand lands gently on your shoulder but it might as well have been a goddamn hit with the way you pull away from him.

“What do you want?”

“I brought some food,” he whispers, setting down a small plate between where you’re sitting and where Joel’s body is laying. “And I came to check on you, see if there’s anything I could do for you.”

He pulls away when you look up at him, hands falling to his side like he’s been fucking burned. You know what you must look like—bloodshot eyes and hollow cheeks.

“Yeah, Tommy, you can fucking fix this.”

You watch as he swallows thickly, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as his eyes flicker from yours to his brother’s body and back. Not a day has gone by since he was brought back that you’ve left his side, doing your best to keep it together through every aching mile along the way to Jackson.

They look for medicine at every stop you make, coming up empty handed time and time again. If we don’t get to Jackson soon—to the doctor they have there—then he will die.

“I'm doing the best I can, sweetheart.”

“Don't you fucking dare call me that,” you tell him. Baby fusses in your arms like she can feel the hurt that’s heavy in your voice. “You were supposed to protect him, Tommy, you were supposed to bring him back to me alive.”

“He is alive,” he says, nostrils flaring as he points down at his brother. “He's right there, he’s breathing, and we are all doing the best that we can.”

Baby looks up at you, stung by the subtle anger that Tommy’s words hold. Her father may be trying to make nice with him, but you fucking won’t—you can’t. Not so long as he lays half clung to life next to you.

More words come at you—assurances and platitudes.

We’ll be in Jackson in two days.

They’re still looking.

He’s a stubborn piece of shit, he’ll make it through.

This is everything that he’s been afraid of this whole goddamn time. This is that fear come true that he’ll leave you or you’ll leave him or your daughter will leave you both and neither of you would survive that.

“Tommy,” you call his attention back on you as he turns. “I grieved for you,” you say. “God, I mourned and I wailed and I wept for days if not weeks or more.”

It’s like he’s understanding for the first time, truthfully understanding, as he stares down at your worn down body speaking all these fragile and broken words. Realization of just how much you hurt for him is dawning on him and he’s trying to give you more comfort, more words to say everybody will be okay.

But it won’t be true so long as your daughter is looking up at you with eyes that ask why your heart has stopped beating.

“I don't think you have heard me at any point that I have explained just what I feel for my family, Tommy,” you say. “I told you that I would’ve bled for you but that I would die for him so I really need for you to listen to me right now—if he goes, part of me will go with him.”

Jackson is like life before it stopped.

There is power here and children laughing.

There are babies and clothes and running water.

There are houses and furniture and trinkets and shops.

You haven’t been able to take any of this in, not really. Not when you’re walking around the halls of Tommy’s home like a ghost.

Tommy found penicillin after that night, came hauling ass into the room and injected his brother before you were even fully awake and registering what he was doing. Because, for a moment, you thought you were under attack. You though a runner had burst in and you couldn’t find the gun and this was the death you had feared beyond the walls—first Joel and then Thomi and then you. The last of those you love taken from you in the last moments that would make you welcome being ripped apart with open arms.

When you realized it was just Tommy, your heart half settled down and then you feared that maybe Joel had stopped breathing next to you. But that couldn’t have been the case because it was the shallow rise and fall of his chest as he fought against infection and the increasing cold that gave you any sort of hope or peace at all.

Joel woke up just as you made it through the gates of Jackson, one eye half cracked and already crying the moment he saw you next to him. Instead of going to the doctor, the doctor came to him. Modern medicine isn’t so modern anymore though, not the way it was when it all fell down. The penicillin likely wasn’t as potent as it once was but the doctor said it would do the trick and that the right thing was done by keeping his wound as clean as possible and bandaged tight.

Tommy said it was all you and the doctor was offering you a job before he’d even learned your name. You’ll get to that eventually, you told him so. Begged him to let you settle in and find a home, find a way to feel okay in this new space where you’re told fear doesn’t have to be your primary emotion any longer.

Now, though, Joel barely wants to sleep. He’s antsy, fidgeting and restless and begging to get out of bed and walk around.

He’s even bouncing Baby and talking with his brother on what jobs he can pull around town to earn his keep.

Fucking jobs.

You almost lost him to him pulling his own weight and he’s asking about fucking jobs with a half healed hole still gaping in his abdomen. 

Thomi’s been down for about an hour, she was your excuse away from the bathroom. With Joel up and about, the survival mode has turned off in your brain and now you want to crumble every time you look at the knotted over flesh.

But there’s only so much pacing that you can do until you’re sitting back in the room and staring down at Thomi with tears in your eyes. She came so close to being just another orphan in this fucked up world because you weren’t joking with Tommy when you said what you said. Part of you will go when Joel does, you will not be the same and you’ve prepared for it, you just hope she’s old enough to understand when that time comes.

There’s also the hope that everybody understands that it’s Joel who has to go first. Between you and him, he has to go first because he cannot watch another person he loves die; he cannot add another name to another gravestone in the cemetery of his heart.

That’s where he finds you, saying something about how he can’t believe there’s an actual crib that she actually gets to sleep in.

That fact and the exhaustion of his voice hits you, drags the tears out of you finally after all these days of having to be strong. She has a crib and she’s sleeping peacefully inside of it with a soft toy somebody in town sent over. Joel has a voice and he’s using it as if just a week ago you hadn’t convinced yourself that you’d never hear it again.

“How can I fix this?” He asks, gentle hand resting on your shoulder. “What can I do for you?”

“You're breathing,” you say, pushing the tears from your face. “That's enough, it’s all I’ve been hoping for.” Because while you want him to be the first to go, you can’t lose him yet. Not yet.

He smells good. Like himself but different, the sweet scent of the mint soap Tommy gave you mixing in with the natural musk and heat of him. You don’t even realize you’re crawling into his lap until you are.

Tears fall down on his face as your fingers thread through the slicked back hair until you’re cradling his head in your hand; holding him to you with open mouths breathing heavily into one another. 

He’s hard already and laying back with ease, thick hands gripping into the meat of your hips. It’s fucking embarrassing how close you are already but there was no privacy for sneaky touches on the journey here. 

“Off,” he commands, tugging at the hem of your shirt. 

Trailing his hand along the skin exposed as you comply easily to his demand, he fights against the pain you know he feels to pull himself forward enough to reach you and pull you back down. 

Days asleep fighting, literally, for his life and, yet, he’s still got all this strength radiating out of his body. You know that’s why he was able to hold on for so long but it doesn't mean it doesn’t wow you and bring another wave of sadness all at the same time.

Because if such a strong man can fall so easily, what’s stopping this world from taking you, too?

Like he can read your mind, his hands settle on your hips and he pulls back just enough to look up at you with the same big brown eyes your daughter shares. “Are you gonna get off of me if I tell you this moment was the focal point of all my fever dreams?”

Head cradled in both of your hands, you take his lips again. “I might never get off of you again, Joel Miller.”

Fighting against the pain he feels, he pushes his hips against your core as he pulls you down against him, whispered words of gratitude and love falling pushed right into your mouth from his.

“I heard every word you said,” he breathes out. “The entire time you were by my side, sweetheart, I heard it all.” 

Tongues flattened against each other, you reach down and pull off the new underwear—another offering in a gift basket to welcome your family to the town. You never thought you’d see these kinds of things again. 

Clothes in good condition; sturdy houses; friendly people; fresh vegetables.

It’s something else that drips tears from your eyes and down his cheeks.

As if he knows how overwhelmed you are by all the newness going on all around you, he takes charge to push up against your lips harder and with more hunger.

Joel’s goal in every moment between your bodies is to be the only overwhelming force you feel and he does just that with the gentle push of his solid length through your soaked channel. 

He takes the gasp you feed him, pulling back with a smile to trail the tip of his nose down the length of yours and studies you as he waits for your fully seated comfort to kick in.

“Mmm,” his head falls back and he relaxes down into the soft blankets. “I’m sorry if I bust too quick,” he breathes out. “It’s been a while and I missed you.” 

Laughter. Because that’s a feeling coiling deeper in the pit of your being than he’s pushing into and he catches your moan as brings the long awaited friction you’ve ached for. 

“I think I’m right there with you,” you whisper against him. This shared laughter and the feeling of his chapped lips on yours are the unburdening you’ve needed for so long. Even in the so called safety of the QZ, your shoulders were heavy with the weight of grief and fear both for those that were and those that will be taken away.

This is light and restful and full of peace and happiness because he turned it all around—he came back.

He heard every word you said at his side.

“None of these,” he says against your lips, swiping at the heavy salt water tears that streak down your cheeks. “Not anymore, sweetheart, not right now. You don’t need them right now.” 

Your bodies are already tightening up against each other; working in time with each other all slow and steady movements made with intention and pulling back when necessary.

Because the intention isn’t to get off, it’s to be together and share this peace and relief together.

“I love you,” falls from his lips like a prayer, something sacred and quiet that he keeps close to his chest.

Even still, he may have said no more tears but they rush from you in body racking sobs. Because you know, of course you know, but he’s never said it. Not out loud, not like this. This isn't just a mere glimpse of a long gone, past life Joel Miller and who he used to be. This is him. That sweet and romantic boy he’s only told you about in the cover of night.

He doesn’t ask if he’s hurt you, he knows that he hasn’t. All he can do is cage you in closer; kiss you harder; hold you tighter until the broken sobs are turning back into shared moans as your involuntary movements of sadness and happiness combine to push you both over that edge.

“Oh, my sweet girl,” he exhales. “My strong, beautiful woman.” Those rough hands frame your face, thumbs swiping over the swell of your cheeks in mirrored movements. “You can relax now, baby, I’m right here.”

Every press of his lips against your face is so soft and full of everything else he’s struggling to say.

That you’re safe.

That you’re healthy.

That your daughter is both and can sleep peacefully not yet knowing what nightmares truly are.

He heard every word you said at his side and these are his answers—his reassurances. He’s here, he’s right here and he’ll fight like hell even against himself to make sure he’ll continue to be.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller #tommy miller #tommy miller fanfiction #tommy miller x you #tommy miller x reader #tlou #tlou fanfiction #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #o writes

[valiira]

♡:･ﾟ✧: Mornin' Love

prompt; john price helps you out in the garden and gets stung by a pesky wasp ♡

tags; john price x reader, sfw, anon request, soft price, lil short & a lil sweet.

— You were thankful for Price, especially when he was home from work. Even if the two of you never really had a lot of time to spend together, due to said work, you enjoyed every moment you could. This morning he woke you to a nice cup of coffee and some wildflowers he had picked just outside the fence on your shared farm. Of course you two would rather stay in bed the entire day, sadly the garden needed tending today.

So begrudgingly, you two got up to begin the task. The garden was slowly becoming more like a hot spot for weeds than that of a pretty field. And of course, Price just had to make a comment on it.

"I've only been gone a few months love," He starts to say, gesturing to the obstacle before you two. Smirk on his face as he slips on some gloves to help with pulling the weeds out. "What'cha do while I was gone, huh?" The sarcasm very apparent in his gruff voice.

You rolled your eyes, lovingly of course, and shrugged. "I don't know John, count our savin's?" You reply jokingly as you put your own gloves on.

The two of you began your work of removing some of the more stubborn weeds. Things went smoothly for awhile, snarky comment here and there, but suddenly Price was muttering in discomfort. Come to find out, the big oaf was stung by a wasp. You chuckle at the thought of this man getting stung by something as small as a wasp. Even though, wasp's kinda sucked.

"That's what you get for all that sarcasm," You say, making your way to his side. Gently grabbing his arm and turning it ever so slightly to view the sting. It was of course just a little swollen and a lot of red but no stinger in site, which was the most concerning thing at the moment. "C'mon baby, let's go get some ice for that swelling." You kindly speak, leading John by the arm back to the house.

Of course, he replies simply in a grumble. Managing a shake of his head at his predicament. The military man had been through hell and back but it was certainly a wasp that was making him feel the worst.

Once back inside, you adoringly take care of John. Making sure to dress the wound and put it on ice. Listening to him gripe about being taken care of , but you truly wouldn't have it any other way. The morning coffee, the sarcasm, the loving caress, the complaining old man, you wouldn't trade it for the world.

#vivi writes ♡ #anon answered #anon ask #anon request #for that one anon! #john price #call of duty #cod mw2 #x reader #writing #captain john price #captain price #i love this man so much #cod mwii fanfic #fanfic #s//f//w #a cutie patootie #it turned out a lil longer but i hope you enjoy! #john price x reader #captain price x reader

[redsaurrce]

DRINK ME UP - 2

Part 1 ! Part-3

Synopsis : After you discovered your boyfriend cheating on you, you have no option but to leave him, isn't it?

Pairing : YANDEREJeon Jungkook x dancer fem!reader

Genre : cheaterjk!au

Word count : 1.38 K

Warnings : Betrayal and cheating, swearing, heartbreak (ugh man)

You stormed away with tears in your eyes, the one thing you despised the most with every fiber on your body became your reality. You got fucking cheated on.

You exasperated with pain in your chest as you clenched it tight and vowed to yourself to never give Jungkook a second chance.

-.

Jungkook felt numb as he saw you go away from him with the intention of never coming back, his lips quivered as he tried to process what the hell just happened when at the very moment he felt someone lean on his side, "Baby she's gone now, let's go for a round two, shall we?" Her honey like sweet voice only felt boiling poison dripping down on Jungkook's ears.

He yanked his arm away from her with wide eyes, "What the hell is your fucking problem?" What Jungkook felt was beyond rage and confusion.

She smiled, "Mine? C'mon! All I did was come near you, it was you who took me in your arms afterall." She said with a smirk.

His eye twitched, "You clearly took the advantage of a drunk person, your level of delusion baffles me."

She pouted, "Oh really? Then why didn't you follow Y/N instead of staying beside me now?" She raised her eyebrows. He scoffed, "That is because I don't want your filthy scent anywhere near my Y/N. I will go to her again when I get rid of this filth and become the perfect man for her again. Now get the fuck lost out of here."

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, "Wow, after all that, you are going to throw a girl away in the middle of the night? Sounds like a perfect womanizer move to me."

Jungkook threw a threatening look towards her direction, "Woma- hah! You will pay for this." He said as he went inside and came back with all of her belongings and threw it on her face. "I will make sure that you regret your actions." He said angrily as he shoved her out of the door.

-.

In the next few days everyone got to know about Jungkook's and your former dance partner's wife's affair, news like these spread like a wildfire afterall. People either sympathized with you or just made you embarassed of not keeping your man in check.

"Maybe he got bored of her pretty quickly, not even surprised though."

"Tch, if I were to choose between her and Kira then my choice would be Kira for sure."

"They never looked good together anyway. Kira and Jungkook look like the perfect match to me."

Your eyes stung when you heard the last sentence, right! Cheaters should stay together so others would not face heartbreak, they sure make the perfect match. You gulped as you thought.

Jimin, who was Kira's husband and your dance partner, had already resigned from the team as he decided to take the offer from France which he had been turning down from the last six months amidst all of this chaos.

Fair enough, you saw how betrayed and heartbroken Jimin looked the next day he got to know about Jungkook and Kira. He had asked you to share a drink with him while he vented to you how much he loved her with all his heart but his lover proceeded to betray him without a second thought. As much as he wanted his wife back, he could not because the trust is already broken and he won't be able to see her as she was before.

Kira had apparently already declared to him that she's never coming back because she loves Jungkook and that is how their marriage came to an end in the blink of an eye.

For you, Jungkook hadn't called a single time, nor did he even text for an apology. "What? That night it seemed as if he had some explanation? Why is he quite now?" You scoffed to yourself, perhaps it was real that both of them had feelings for one another.

You thought as you gulped yet another glass of soju to your oblivion that Jungkook had actually been watching you from afar in secret all along.

-.

"Jimin, good for you that you are going to France. I'm thinking to leave the team as well, I don't want to stay amongst these people." You said in heavy voice as you were growing tired of all the nasty comments people kept on making about you. "For the first time in my life I felt so worthless and insecure about myself, I don't think I can live long if I continue living in such an environment." You said as you wiped your tears using your sweater paws.

You suddenly paused as you looked at your sleeve wet due to your tears, you dry chuckled to yourself as you remembered that this was actually Jungkook's habit of wiping your tears using his sweater paws and you had subconsciously took up his habit.

You looked at the ceiling in pain, those days were in fact the best days of your life, everyday with Jungkook was a gift to you, he used to call you beautiful every now and then, made you feel confident about yourself with every passing day. That's why this betrayal feels unbearable for you. Now because of his actions, you feel so low about yourself.

Jimin cleared his throat across the line, "Y/N you there?"

"Oh I'm sorry, I was just reminded of the old days." You sniffed a little.

He hummed, "I see. Where are you planning to go?" He asked you.

"Shanghai. Li Xun, my ex-dance coach when moved to China had told me that he will whole-heartedly welcome me if I ever decided to join his team. I'm thinking to contact him." You said as you sighed to yourself.

He smiled, "Sounds great. I'll be leaving tomorrow morning. Contact me when you move to China." You smiled as well, "I will. Take care."

"You too."

-.

You had turned in your resignation the same day your ex-coach had confirmed your resume. And the moment your resignation processed, you booked the earliest flight to Shanghai which was today.

When you entered the airport, someone grabbed your wrist from behind. You turned around, just to look at the man who was responsible for you to leave the country.

"Please don't go Y/N." he breathed with yearning in his voice. You yanked your wrist out of his hold as you looked at him with mocked expression, "Jungkook I told you already to never see me again."

"Y/N-" "K&J's daughter in law caught in a recent scandal is causing uproar in the business world. She had taken advantage of a drunk man and now the alleged relationships of her past are resurfacing. K&J's Mr. Park has been reported to be seen in France, sources say that they have ended their marriage, thus K&J is likely to cut ties with Mujin group." Jungkook's sentence was cut by the news reporter on the display screen in the airport.

You knew K&J was Jimin's father's company with Mujin being Kira's grandfather's.

Jungkook returned his gaze from the screen towards you, "You saw that yourself Y/N, it was a misunderstanding."

"But nothing changes the fact that you had slept with her Jungkook!" You almost wanted to scream at him in frustration.

He shook his head, "But I was fucking drunk. How was I supposed to stay calm after I saw that Park Jimin dancing so closely to you?"

You scoffed, "So you proceeded to be intimate with his wife as a revenge."

"No wtf?! I'm trying to say that I was so drunk that I thought it was you the whole time we were making out." He said in desperation.

You scoffed again, "Oh so you failed to recognize me? Great! Do you know it seems like you were never in love, you were just obsessed with me to the point that you drunk so badly to ruin our relationship the day which was supposed to be happy for us." You gulped, "Just another reason why I should hate you even more."

"H-Hate?" Jungkook finally seemed to get the picture, "That's right. Therefore, never bother me again." And you walked away yet again, the same way you walked away that night from him.

He looked at your silhoutte through his blurred vision, "Y/N I will come to you again, and when I do so.. do not push me away." He whispered with his broken voice as he looked at the contacts of his phone and clicked on the caller named- Plastic Surgeon Lee Suho.

The fact that you guys stayed around for part 2 is so heart warming :"( <33

Tysm for making it till the end, your feedback is HIGHLY appreciated 💗 MWAHH!!

#bts smut #jungkook smut #jjk smut #yandere bts #yandere jungkook #yandere x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts x reader #jjk x reader #bts yandere #bangtan smut #jeongguk smut #jeongguk x reader #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook ff #jungkook fanfiction #yandere kpop #bts #jungkook imagine #jungkook au #yandere smut #yandere lemon #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #bts ff #bts fic

[svechnikovvv]

fighting major

pairing: auston matthews x fem!reader

warnings: SMUT, profanity

summary: seeing auston heated & get into a fight was something you never knew you needed

a/n: first smut 🫣 also, this takes place after aus got his fighting major against stamkos. this also isn’t proofread, so yeah

masterlist: here

i was sat in one of the suites, watching the game with steph. i glance down at my phone to check the message my mom sent me when steph starts hitting my arm.

“what is it?” i look up and see that auston is currently brawling it out with stamkos on the ice.

“holy shit. he’s never faught before” i place a hand over my mouth as i watch the two tussle for a minute before they’re separated. auston received a fighting major and is sent to the penalty box while stamkos skates off somewhere. i’m speechless because this is auston’s first nhl fight. sure, he got drafted years ago, but he’s never fought anyone.

“things must’ve been serious for him to drop the gloves.” steph jokes and i laugh with her, still focused on my boyfriend. seeing him angry out there kinda turned me on. i clench my legs together and continue to watch the game. once auston is back out on the ice, im back to cheering for him. i mentally chastise myself and focus my attention back onto my boyfriend.

before i know it, the game ends with a leafs win. steph and i embrace one another in a hug and head down to the tunnel to wait for tweedledee and tweedledumb. soon, mitch and majority of the guys come out.

"aus is in the locker room taking the game pretty rough," mitch says, walking over to steph and i and my brows furrow. they won so why is he beating himself up over it?

"is it just him?" mitch nods and i make my way to the locker room door that i had familiarized myself with. i open it and give the door three knocks.

"are you decent?" i hear a faint 'yeah' and then i walk further into the room. i see auston sitting in a cubby with his head hanging in his hands. he's shirtless, but has on a pair of shorts. i walk over and take a seat in the cubby beside his, gingerly placing a hand on his shoulder.

"aus, what's going on?" he finally looks up and his eyes meet mine and i can see the anger in them.

"i'm going to fucking kill him, y/n." i never thought auston would ever talk about someone this way, but apparently there's a first time for everything.

"who?"

"stamkos." whatever he said had to have started the brawl.

"what'd he say?" auston breaks eye contact and looks at the floor.

"he was calling you a cheap piece of ass and saying how you're no better than a slut." i'll admit, the words stung a bit. to be perceived in that way? it was awful. however, stamkos got his karma.

"i couldn't just stand there and let him say that shit. who the fuck does he think he is? you don't talk about other guys' girls. it's just not fucking right." i massage between his shoulder blades as he goes on his rant.

"aus, baby, it's over now. right? you guys whooped their asses and handed it to them. he got what he deserved." auston shakes his head

"y/n, it doesn't matter if we beat them. he shouldn't have talked about you like that. you may not care, but i sure as hell do.” i think if this were any other situation, i’d be making a big deal over it. but seeing how auston cared so much and how it made him mad was bringing that same warm feeling in my stomach back.

i place my free hand on his thigh and feel him stiffen slightly before relaxing.

“i appreciate the fact that you care, but i promise you it’s fine now.” he nods, but i can tell that it’s still bothering him. i get on my knees in front of him and his brows furrow as he looks down at me.

“what’re you doing?” i give him a straight face

“judging by the tent in your shorts, i think you know exactly what i’m doing.” he does a quick glance around

“what if someone walks in?” i shrug my shoulders, placing my other hand on his other thigh.

“don’t be so shy now, matthews. where’s that guy i saw out on the ice?” i see his pupils widen a little bit before he smirks.

“right here, baby” i smile back and move my hands upwards to the waistband of his shorts. he lifts up his hips enough for me to slide his shorts and underwear down and off his legs. when they’re discarded, i look back at auston to see his hardened dick. i lean forward and trail kisses down his torso, starting at his pecs and i make sure to tease him.

“don’t be a tease, y/n.” auston whines and soon, im at the base. i slowly lick a stripe up his cock and i stop once i reach the tip. i take my thumb and spread the precum around his tip. i then take the head of his cock into my mouth and i hallow my cheeks, breathing in through my nose. i hear auston let out a gasp when i take him in my mouth and it makes me let out a hum of satisfaction.

i lick at his slit, also making sure to get underneath his head. i swallow more of him, placing my hand on what i can’t fit in my mouth. i do this for a few minutes and when i pull away, a string of saliva hangs from my chin. i wipe it away with my hand, looking at auston.

“why’d you stop?” auston then laces his hands through my hair at the nape of my neck and pulls my mouth back to his cock. he then starts to fuck my mouth. i look up at him through my lashes and see that his head is thrown back and his eyes are screwed shut, mouth agape as panting leaves his mouth.

“almost there, y/n.” he continues to thrust his hips harder before he stills and i feel his warm cum shoot into my mouth, hitting the back of my throat. after he came down from his high, he pulls himself out of my mouth.

“swallow,” he says and i do as told, then opening my mouth and showing him. he places a hand on my cheek and pulls me in for a kiss. i feel him hum into it before he pulls back.

“good girl. now stand up” i get up and he pulls me to him by my hips. “take your pants off” when did this become him bossing me around?

i take my pants off and set them with his. auston stands up and makes me sit in the cubby. he gets down on his knees and angles his dick at my entrance. i feel him rub himself up and down my folds. without a warning, he slowly slides himself in, stretching me out with his girth. i can feel him touch my cervix and i’m already clenching around him.

“tight already baby? i just got inside” he pulls his dick back and pushes himself back in slowly like when he entered me. he continues this rhythm for a while. he then takes his thumb and applies pressure to my clit, rubbing it softly. i throw my head back and i feel like i’m on cloud 9.

“oh my god, aus. feels so good”

“yeah?” i nod my head

“use your words, baby”

“yes. god, yes.” i hear him let out a deep chuckle and his pace quickens just slightly. i could feel the coil in my stomach coming and i knew that i was close to cumming.

“don’t cum yet, pretty girl. wait for me” i hum and i don’t let go just yet.

“okay, let go.” auston says and i feel him release inside me as i also cum. my eyes are still closed as i’m still coming down from my high when i feel auston roughly slide himself back in. it takes me aback and i let out a loud gasp.

“auston, oh my god.” a couple moans slide out of my mouth. he pulls his dick out and rams it back in.

“lift your hips for me baby” i do as told and auston continues to pound me, the newfound angle feeling amazing.

“you take me so well, pretty girl. you’re doing amazing” he places his thumb back on my clit and if i were to die right now, i’d die a happy woman.

“just like that. so good.” i’m sure that if someone were to walk by, they’d definitely hear the skin to skin contact.

“i’m close aus”

“not yet princess, wait it out.” i start to whine and get impatient. i’m seconds from saying fuck it and cumming anyways.

“aus, please”

“i know baby, i know. ‘m almost there” he continues to roughly pound into me, no doubt bruising my hip with his hard grip on it.

“okay, cum for me” those four words were all i needed to hear as i let myself go for a second time. i feel my legs shaking and i can also hear auston panting. he pulls out of me and the familiar warmth from him is gone, but only temporarily. he then picks me up and sits back down in the cubby. he places me on his lap.

“ride me” i sit up long enough to grab his cock from underneath me and place him at my entrance. once i feel his head, i sink down onto him, eliciting a moan from him.

“now rock your hips.” he places both hands on either of my hips and i move forward and backwards. i start to grind on him and i pick up my pace a little and both of us are breathing heavy and no doubt sweating. he was hitting every sweet spot and it felt like pure euphoria.

this time, i don’t wait for his permission, i cum anyways. but he continues to move my hips forward and backwards as he rides out his high, making me cum again. that’s what, four times already?

once he’s finished and i am, we sit like that for a while, just panting and basking in each other’s embrace. he tilts my chin up and gives me a passionate kiss.

“i love you,” he then pulls me up and tells me to stay where i am. he grabs his underwear and shorts and slips them back on. he looks around and finds a clean rag that they must’ve had as an extra and cleans me up.

“i love you most, auston” once he was finished, i put my pants and panties back on, and stand up. however, my legs felt weak and i was a bit wobbly.

“that good?” i look over at auston and he’s smirking

“you made me cum enough times to have a hatty, so i’d say yes.” he laughs and throws an arm around my shoulders.

“fix your hair babe, or else they’ll know that we just christened this locker room.”

tags: @jhughesl0v3r @marsmcgroarty + that anon who asked for it 🙏

a/n: posting this to satisfy you guys

#auston matthews smut #auston matthews x reader #auston matthews #toronto maple leafs #nhl hockey #nhl

[foreverindreamlandd]

Locker Drama

Pairing: Neighbor!Steve Harrington x Plus Size!Reader

WC: 2.3k

Summary: Your locker neighbor, Tommy, can't seem to stop being an asshole to you. Even though they're technically friends, Steve draws the line when it comes to picking on someone who is apparently extremely important to him.

Warnings: Bullying, body image, fatphobia, protective Steve, does not contain spoilers for the show Stranger Things. Unedited because I am a piece of human garbage :,)

Note: Okay....so this is going to be the first fic within the Neighbor!Steve Harrington x Plus Size!Reader world. It's going to be a very loosely-structured series, friends to lovers with no real timeline (next fic could be them married with ten kids....kidding but you get the gist lol....hopefully). I hope you enjoy it! :)

*****

“All I’m saying is that when I grow up, I’m going to become Vice Principal of a school and tell any student athlete who thinks they have the right to skip finals and not do their homework to fuck off.”

You blanched at your best friend, shaking your head as you put your math books in your locker. “Robin, I’m pretty sure if you told a student to fuck off you would be fired on site.”

Robin groaned, head tilting up in frustration and leaning against the closed lockers beside yours.

“Fine,” she said. “I’ll just give them the detentions they deserve rather than just letting them off the hook for being the golden children of the school. Us band kids have more brains and talent than any of those boneheads and we get diddly squat.”

“At least we can find solace in the fact that we most likely won’t peak in high school.” You grabbed your supplies for science class. “Well, you might actually, if you end up working at one, Mrs. Vice Principal.”

Your lips quirked up into a smug grin as Robin groaned again, this time turning to lean her forehead on the locker.

“Okay, new plan,” she said. “How about-”

“Can you believe Mr. Cooper gave me an F on my paper?” You fought back a groan as the whiney voice of your locker neighbor approached. “I know I got every answer right because I was copying off of that redhead’s work!”

Tommy Hagan - whom you affectionately referred to as Freckles - strolled over to the locker next to yours, head turned in the other direction at his girlfriend Carol as she pressed her body against his.

Though she was tiny, it was enough force to knock Tommy back and bump into you.

He turned to sneer at you. “Watch it, Tubby.” 

Your heartbeat quickened as both rage and shame flooded through you. At least the nickname you had given Freckles was somewhat tame. Tommy gave you one look up and down at the beginning of the school year and immediately deemed you as Tubby.

The first time he said it, you had thought you were hallucinating. It had always been your biggest insecurity, ever since you had put on weight in middle school, and kept putting it on up until this point no matter how many miles you ran and how many diet programs your mom had you try. Still, most of your peers had the courtesy of not saying anything, just letting you exist as long as you kept quiet and didn’t cause any problems.

Not Tommy, though. He just liked to push people’s buttons, and although he was dumb as rocks, he had a knack for identifying the things that hurt you the most.

The nickname stung like salt to a wound, but you knew to keep your head down and stay quiet. You saw what happened when people tried to fight back with Tommy. It only made him want to ramp it up.

He relished in the attention.

Your dearest, hot-headed best friend did not understand that, though, so when she heard his crude remark she scoffed. “Excuse you, numbnuts. But you’re the one who crashed into her.”

You narrowed your eyes at Robin, silently telling her to stop as Carol mewled. “Watch out, baby, you’re upsetting the freaks.”

“Yeah, well, I’m upset that I have to be in such close proximity as them all day!” Tommy’s voice grew louder as he opened his locker, side intentionally bumping into you once more to make a point. “All I’m saying is that it would be nice to have a locker next to someone who took up so much space! I can barely move around here.”

Carol giggled as tears started to burn your eyes. You kept your face in your locker in an attempt to hide your large frame from the world.

Maybe if I stand still for long enough I’ll just blend in and no one will notice me.

With your locker door still open, Tommy was out of view, so you only heard the slam of his door and a small yelp from Carol.

“That’s enough, Tommy,” a familiar voice declared.

Tommy scoffed. “Come on, Harrington. Just airing my grievances.” You could hear the dumb smile on his face.

“No, you’re just being a dick.”

You allowed yourself one small, almost unnoticeable smile.

“Why your panties all up in a bunch, King Steve? Am I being mean to your girlfriend or something?”

Your smile dropped.

There was a few moments of silence, and you could only imagine the type of disgusted face Steve was making then. 

“Just shove off and get to class before another teacher flunks you and you can’t be on the team anymore,” Steve responded, the fight gone from his voice, switching to the charismatic popular guy that almost everyone knew and loved.

This Steve made you sick to your stomach.

Regardless of the disappointment you felt, Steve’s shift in demeanor was enough to distract Tommy. “Ms. Pine would never flunk me, especially now that her daughter is on the cheerleading team. Gotta make sure our team makes her look as good as possible, which means I get a free ride through history.”

You heard him mumble a let’s go, baby to Carol and then the hallway immediately became less tense.

You still couldn’t move, though, still horrified by the public humiliation.

“I’ll kill that asshole,” Robin muttered, crossing her arms.

“It’s fine,” you whispered, quickly wiping your tears. 

“Hey.”

The familiar voice, now much softer and more sympathetic, was right behind you.

You closed your eyes for a second and willed the tears away before turning.

Steve Harrington stood in front of you, hands in his pockets and shoulders sagged, hair perfectly swooped to the side.

His lips were pressed into a thin line. “Sorry about that.” He shrugged. “Tommy’s an idiot.”

“He’s also a jerk, and still your best friend,” Robin cut in, glaring at Steve.

You watched him bite the inside of his cheek as his eyes flashed to Robin, running his fingers through his hair.

“It’s fine.” It seemed as if those were the only two words you were capable of saying.

“It’s not fine,” they both said at the same time, Robin with much more bite and Steve with a quiet assurance.

They both locked eyes in shock that they managed to agree on something, horror painting across their faces.

You couldn’t help but giggle at it.

Steve’s eyes went back to you, smile spreading across his face at the sound of your laugh.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked, head tilting down a bit, making it so that his large, deep brown eyes stared into yours through his long lashes.

You fought the butterflies as they tried to swarm your stomach. 

“I’m fi- okay,” you said, switching words when Steve’s eyes narrowed.

He nodded. “I’ll deal with Tommy. Meet you after school?”

You nodded back. “Sounds good, Steve.” 

His smile grew ever so slightly when you said his name, and after making eye contact with Robin - who continued to glare at him - he walked down the hallway to his next class.

“You know I love you,” she said, shoulder leaning against the locker, “but I’ll never understand why you let that guy breathe the same air as you.”

You huffed. “It’s not like we’re besties, Robin.” Well, you used to be, but that was before Steve started high school and became an instant celebrity at Hawkins High. When Steve Harrington was just Stevie, and he was your favorite person in the entire world.

Now?

“He’s just my ride. As if I’d give up the BMW so I can ride the bus where the rest of the bullies dwell.”

She pursed her lips, still not buying it.

You sighed. “He’s a good person, Robin, I promise.”

At that, she scoffed, shaking her head and wrapped her arm around your neck to lead you to your next class.

“You’ve spent too much time in close proximity with Freckles, Y/n,” she muttered. “His idiot brain is starting to run off on you.”

*****

“How the hell do you have a B in chemistry?” Steve asked, shaking his head as you both got out of the car. “Erikson is brutal. I barely managed to get a D.”

“Hate to break it to you Steve,” you said while swinging your backpack over your shoulder, “but some studies show that doing your work and paying attention in class helps you learn enough to get a good grade.”

He whined, steps falling in line with yours as you approached the school building. “I bet it’s all a hoax. You actually suck at school and have found some new top-secret method of cheating.”

You gasped, feigning offense. “How dare you try to unveil my master plan and risk destroying my reputation as the school nerd?”

Steve laughed, opening the door for you as you walked in. “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”

The two of you shared a small smile as you headed down the hallway. Your locker was closest to the entrance, so you prepared to break away and not see Steve until the end of school.

So it confused you when his stride continued to match yours, slowing as you both veered off to your locker.

Your eyes narrowed at him, slowly putting in your combination. “Listen Steve, I know you promised to keep things with Tommy handled, but I promise you don’t have to be my bodyguard anytime I’m at my locker.”

Steve’s head jerked back as he gave you a confused look, raising his hand to the lock of Tommy’s locker. “What do you mean? This is where all my stuff is.”

Your fingers began mindlessly turning your own lock, suddenly forgetting the combination as you stared at him wide eyed. “What…”

“I switched lockers,” he said with a casual shrug. You could see the corners of his lips twitch as he fought back a smile.

“You what?”

“What? It’s no big deal, Y/n. Tommy seemed to have such a big issue being here, whereas I think this is prime real estate.”

You bit your bottom lip, stomach turning to knots. “Steve…”

“It’s fine, Y/n. Besides, it makes sense that we’re neighbors in school and at home.” His face turned serious for a moment. “I told you I’d handle it. Now, you don’t have to worry.”

You scowled. “He’s still your friend, though. So he can come here and harass me anytime he wants-”

Steve shook his head. “Nope. Told him if he stepped foot anywhere near here that I’d have coach put him on the bench for the rest of the season.” He opened his locker, tossing his bag in and grabbing his books. His brows rose when he turned back to your still stunned expression. “Are you going to open your locker yet? Don’t want to be late for class and ruin that master plan of yours, Miss Cheaterpants.”

A bark of a laugh erupted from your chest and you lightly slapped Steve on the arm, pulling giggles from your new locker neighbor.

It brought an overwhelming sense of relief, having him by your side instead of Tommy. For months, you dreaded stopping here between classes, shielding yourself for another snide comment from Freckles.

Now, you didn’t need to worry. Steve was here, and though you weren’t the best friends you had been your whole lives, having him by your side made this spot finally feel like a safe space.

You turned your attention back to your lock, opening the door and grabbing books for your first class.

The worst part about Tommy’s complaints were that technically it was sometimes true. You did take up more space than others, meaning that your arm would inevitably wiggle around in his area as you moved.

And so, of course, the same thing would happen with Steve.

When your hip bumped against his, any sense of relief you had felt crumbled in seconds, the familiar feeling of shame the only thing left in its wake. 

Steve felt your body go rigid, and he rested a hand on your shoulder. “Hey,” he said, turning your body to face him. There was a tenderness in his face that you hadn’t seen in years. “The shit that he said yesterday, what I assume he’s been saying…it’s all bullshit, Y/n.”

You tried to shrug and force a smile, but Steve knew you better than that, and his hand squeezed your shoulder. “No, listen.” His eyes pierced yours, face leaning forward until it was inches from yours. “What he said was absolute bullshit, and he’s a complete idiot for not realizing how lucky he was to be so close to you all the time.”

His breath tickled your skin, causing you to blink a few times as you tried to identify the tone he was using as he said this. This was nothing like the Steve you grew up with, nor was it the voice of King Steve, ruler of Hawkins High.

This was something different, and it brought heat to your core.

He seemed to lose himself for a moment, leaning less than an inch closer and the movement was so overwhelming your breath hitched. That seemed to be enough to break the tension, and Steve swallowed, standing straight and grabbing his books.

“I should get going,” he murmured, using his free hand to run his fingers through his hair. He gave you a small smile. “See you next period?”

You blinked a few more times, bobbing your head up and down slowly.

Steve bit his bottom lip, staring at you for a few more seconds before closing his locker door and heading down the hallway.

Your gaze remained on the spot he had been standing at moments ago, a part of you wondering if you were dreaming.

Maybe the new locker situation wouldn’t be as easy as you thought….

*****

Thank you for reading! :)

Main Masterlist

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #neighbor!steve harrington #plus size!reader #neighbor!steve harrington x plus size!reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things imagine

[thecatsaesthetics]

Day Seven of Feyre Week - Free Day.

A one shot about Feyre getting revenge on the man who wronged her. Read here or on AO3

I study him, the man I had once loved. I looked through the small window on the prison door. His arms and feet were chained against the walls of the dungeon, he had blood running down the sides of his golden blond hair. He looked so beautiful, despite the blood and bruises now forming on his skin. His clothing had been shredded and I could see the well-formed muscles of his chest. I remembered a time I would curl up on that chest and take comfort from it.

His face hung downwards, and I was grateful I did not have to see those green eyes staring up at me.

I could feel my heart thud in my chest, not out of pity or pain for him but hatred. It felt like another lifetime ago that I had loved him so fiercely I had destroyed myself.

“Did Azriel get it out of him?” I ask Rhys, who was leaning against the wall casually picking lint off his cuffs.

Tamlin had been no match for the two of us, we had found him in Nyx’s room. He stood over my sleeping son’s cradle. Power had cracked from both Rhys and mine veins, and Rhys had been able to winnow him to the dungeons under Hewn City. I had summoned Azriel, he had gone into that dungeon, but I had been too panicked to wait around.

I held Nyx afterwards, to calm both him and me, the disturbance had woke him and I could only feel calm if I had him in my arms. At only five months old he hardly slept through the night. He enjoyed falling asleep in my arms, and I enjoyed having him there, my miraculous baby.

Nyx finally had gotten back to sleep, and Elain had promised to watch over him while I went to the dungeons to speak to Rhys. Azriel had been gone when I arrived, but I could see his work on Tamlin.

“He did, it was Koschei’s doing” Rhys said.

“Is he being controlled? Like Eris men?” I asked.

Koschei and the Queen had controlled Eris men months ago, and if he was capable of controlling Tamlin… It changed things. However, none of that lessened my fury at the man in the dungeon. I had sensed Tamlin in the room before waking, I had been sleeping in the rocking chair of Nyx’s room. I immediately shouted for Rhys through the bond, who had been sleeping in our room. The next moments all I knew was rage, white hot rage. If Rhys hadn’t questioned down the bond how he got through our wards I believe I might have killed Tamlin. We needed answers, because if Tamlin had broke into the home, anyone could.

“No”

“So he’s working with Koschei? why?” I turned my head towards Rhys, his violet eyes were on me intensely and I knew the truth would be devastating  “Tell me.”

“Your father made a bargain with Koschei, his first born grandson in exchange for the help he provided during the war. With your father dead Koschei had no way to complete the bargain.”

“So, he went to Tamlin?” I asked, confused and shocked. My father handing over my son before he had ever been born… my heart stung. My father was long dead and could not explain his actions, maybe he had assumed he’d never get a grandson or maybe he was willing to trade away one life for thousands of others.

“Koschei needed someone else who would be willing to get Nyx” Rhys said.

“What does Koschei want from him?”

“Tamlin didn’t know that, and trust me Azriel tried very hard to get that out of him” Rhys went on, “Tamlin only cared about his part of the bargain.”

“Which was?” I asked, knowing the answer well.

“To get you back. Koschei apparently offered to erase your memories of The Night Court and me.”

My heart pounded, my stomach felt sick, I turned my head back to look at Tamlin hanging from the dungeon wall. I hoped it hurt, I hope the chains dug into his wrists, I hope it burned.

“Again… he betrays Prythian again to get me back” I said.

“Tamlin playing traitor to get what he wants seems to be a common enough theme” Rhys scoffed.

But darker thoughts rose in my mind, Koschei wanted Nyx and we didn’t know why.

“I left Nyx with Elain but…” Elain was still growing in her powers and what if Koschei was in the city, waiting for the delivery of my son.

Rhys putting a hand on my back.

“It’s why Azriel’s not here, he’s going back to the house. He’s getting the rest of them, Mor, Amren, Cassian and even Nesta to go back to the house.”

I let out a sigh of relief.

“Koschei will be found, and I don’t care what bargain your father made. He doesn’t get our son.” Rhys said reassuring me.

“I can’t believe it, I can’t believe my father…”

“I know, I’m so sorry Feyre” Rhys replied, “But the bargain died with your father, I think. Koschei wouldn’t have needed to make another if he it hadn’t.”

I nodded in agreement and sighed in relief; but it didn’t solve our immediate problem. What to do with the High Lord in our dungeon.

“We can deal with him tomorrow” Rhys said.

I shook my head and said:

“I’ll deal with him tonight.”

“You don’t have to, even if that’s what we decide we can get Azriel…”

“No” I cut him off, and through the bond I said

This is mine, my fight, my kill, my decision.

My eyes still gazing to Tamlin, the blood pouring off his face, the pitiful excuse of a male. I looked back at Rhys, no judgement on his face but I could sense his worry.

“You disagree” I wasn’t a question.

“You need to be sure, it’s a decision you can’t take back.”

“He tried to take me again, he tried to give our son to a monster” I said.

“I know, but taking the life another High Lord”

“After everything he’s done how are you speaking for him now” I snapped at Rhys. Tamlin didn’t deserve either of our compassion.

“No, I’m not” He insisted “I wanted to rip him to pieces the moment I saw him in that room. I’ve wanted him dead for centuries, but it changes things with him dead and we need to be prepared to face those consequences.”   

“I’m sorry” I said, remembering how Tamlin caused the deaths of his mother and sister “I’m being selfish.”

“You’re not” Rhys said.

“How did you stomach it, all those years knowing he was alive after what he did?” I asked.

“It wasn’t easy, I never forgave him if that’s what your asking” Rhys said “But I knew killing him would cause more trouble than it was worth. You need to consider what trouble his death would cause, and if it’s worth it.  

“Beron and Tarquin” I said, and I doubt the other High Lords would take too kindly to the killing of another High Lord.

“Beron will be furious but likely would use it as an excuse to ally against us, and Tarquin… I doubt he will mourn Tamlin but hate the instability it would cause.”

I stood back from the dungeon door and considered, considered it all. Tamlin had caused nothing but pain to everyone he encountered. Not just to Rhys and I, but my sisters, Lucien, his own people; all of them victims of the same beast.

“I thought he’d changed” I said softly, “After the war, after bringing you back. He told me to be happy and I thought he meant it. He was never healed, we know that, but I thought he had least let me go.”

“I thought he did too” Rhys said “When I visited during our first solstice, he wondered if you’d ever forgive him.”

“You told me” I nodded remembering Rhys detailing that trip, “how did this happen again?”

“It’s Nyx” Rhys said simply, “Lucien said he took the news poorly.”

I sighed, remembering the bruises on Lucien’s face when he recounted how Tamlin had heard of my pregnancy. Rhys and I had been considering at that point asking Tamlin for help, with shapeshifting while pregnant. We were running out of options on how to save our lives, but when Lucien came to us the day after we knew we could not. Tamlin was a liability, tonight proved it.

“He’s not fit to be a High Lord.” I said with certainty, “Look at how he treats his own people, his lands. He doesn’t care who gets hurt, he only cares for himself. The Night Court, and Prythian, will be better off with a new High Lord of Spring.”

One who could manage his lands, who didn’t run around in beast form, or pinning away for a female long gone.

“He has no direct heir” Rhys said, “I’m not sure who the power would transfer to, it might be a distant cousin or anyone the land chooses.”

“I’d rather deal with that problem then him the rest of our lives” I said, “I’d rather deal with Beron, or anyone else’s fury then have to worry for the rest of my life his desperate attempts to steal me back.”

Rhys nodded; it was decided.

From the pocket realm I summoned a knife, a smooth shark blade.  I remembered back to another time, another lifetime, where I had picked up a blade and killed for Tamlin.

“You don’t have to do it like that” Rhys said, and I knew he was also reminded of that moment. “You could shatter his mind; I could show you how.”

I shook my head.

“I need to end this my way Rhys” I said, my grip on the knife tightened. I heard a slight moan from the dungeon, he was awake.

“I can knock him out again, to make it easier.”

“Just make him unable to speak, I want him to hear me, I want him to know it’s me” I said, thinking back to my horror of finding him standing over my sleeping son’s cradle.

Rhys nodded, and I entered the dungeon.

Tamlin struggled against the chains, but his brute strength was nothing against the magic and wards of the Night Court. Without whatever magic Koschei had given him to sneak into our city he was helpless. Our prisoner. Completely under our power, and I smiled at the thought. He thought our court was weak, defenseless, that he could sneak in and steal me, it’s High Lady, away.

Tamlin eyed the knife in my hand and opened his mouth to speak.

“You don’t get to speak” I said, toying with the knife “You thought any of this would get me back. You think Rhys and I wouldn’t have fought everything to ensure our son’s safety.”

I took a step closer to him, he still had his mouth open like a gapping fish.

“You’re a monster, the same beast that came through my door years ago” I said “But worse, you’re a traitor. You would betray and backstab anyone if you got your way. No matter who it hurt, no matter if I wanted you back or not. All you care about is yourself.”

Tamlin struggled against the chains, and his mouth kept opening and closing, unable to form words.

“You hurt everyone you ever touch” I said thinking of Lucien’s bruises, of my sisters coming out of the cauldron, Rhys’ mother and sister, my own suffering at his hands. I drew closer to him “I told you once if you tried to take me from my family, if you tried to take me from my mate I would destroy you. You didn’t listen, and I did.”

My hands began to sweat, and I put the knife up to his heart. Not touching, not yet.

“But I left you alive then, and I had hoped you would have learned a lesson. Instead, you tried to kidnap my son, my child in some demented plan to get me back.” The knife was now touching his chest, not yet drawing blood. Tamlin’s eyes shot downwards, and back up at mine. Fear, terror, horror was what I saw in them. Good. I wanted that.

“Did you think I would let you get away with it?” I asked rhetorically. I pushed the knife deeper, just enough to scratch. “You probably thought it would be Rhys doing this and he would have if I had wanted it that way. But I want to do this, I want you to know the monster I am willing to become to save my family.”

Again, he opened his mouth, and I could tell he was pleading. I had no mercy, no mercy in my veins for him. He had done enough, and I would happily become a monster to ensure he never harmed another soul.

I pulled the knife back and then jammed it in his heart. Blood poured out of him and onto my hand. Tamlin looked down to knife in his heart, to my hand covered in blood, shock was all over my face.

“I hope wherever you end up next it is nothing but misery. You don’t deserve a happy ending, or my mercy.”

I stood there, holding the knife in his chest, allowing the blood to flow over me. I pulled the knife out once the life left Tamlin’s eyes. His dead body was the only reminder of him in the room. I collapsed on the dungeon floor.

Within seconds Rhys was on the dirty floor with me, and I couldn’t help but let out a flood of tears. Not tears of grief, never grief for a man who had only caused me harm. The tears were of both relief and fear. Tamlin might be gone, but Nyx, the baby I had nearly died for, was in danger.

“Koschei wants him” I said terror shaking my body. “He won’t stop until he has him”

I let Rhys embrace me and he kissed my forehead through the bond said:

He didn’t succeed, and Koschei will never take our son. We won’t allow it.

“I know, I know” I muttered back, if we had another battle to face so be it.

#feyre archeron #rhysand #feysand #feyreweek2024 #anti feylin #anti tamlin

[jarofstyles]

Every Rose Has Its Thorns

Hellllooo! Here is our baby princerry part 2!

Check out our Patreon for early access and exclusive writings!

———

The news of courting spread around very fast. Much faster than Y/N had anticipated.

Of course, she hadn’t expected many to be happy for her. There would be a flurry of well wishes hidden behind daggers and poisonous smiles that would fall as soon as the fans raised to their lips. Taking the most anticipated spot of the women of their village and their lifetime… she knew that the reception would be a bunch of falsities from people outside of her inner circle.

The one thing she hadn’t counted on though, was her own cousin being a part of the circle to turn her normally soft smile sharper than a blade. She was never good at hiding her emotion but the jealousy was boiling over, especially from what Y/N had overheard

“She showed no interest in the prince. I’ve raves about him for ages and she’s rolled her eyes but now! Now, look at her calling room. Filled with florals and the prince calling her to the palace for a day and walk in the royal gardens tomorrow.” Her tone was bitter as she gossiped in the gardens of her own home. No idea Y/N had popped by for a visit to ask what color dress she should go with, she met with some of the other girls who were stomping their heels at the idea of Y/N being the prince’s object of affection.

“She’s always got her nose in a book, anyway.” Priscilla sniffled, one of the women who was angry. “I barely saw her the entirety of the ball. Suddenly she returns from the balcony with the prince looking at her with hearts in his eyes. What a fool.” Murmurs of agreement went around the tea table.

It didn’t necessarily hurt to hear the others. She always had known they were fake at the very least. But her dear cousin… one of her most trusted friends and favorite people? It stung. Her thorns were showing, where Y/N thought she had once plucked them.

“My mother says I should just be happy for her. A member of our family stepping up! But she doesn’t deserve it. I do. I’ve always been kind to the prince, I said all the right things during our dance… what about her is special? That none of us have?” She stressed, stomping on the floor. Rose had no idea that Y/N was listening and that she was breaking her heart.

“She certainly isn’t the most beautiful out of all of us. She doesn’t have Priscilla’s nose, or my hair. I wonder…” Rose gasped and brought her hand up to her mouth. “Do you suppose… perhaps, she did something with the prince in the gardens? Something… scandalous? That would require them to marry in order to save her reputation? I can see-“

The girl was interrupted with a clearing of the throat. Y/N stood with her head high, hands clasped together and eyes fierce despite her hurt internally. God, she was aching to cry. All of this over a man? One that would only ever choose one woman to end up with anyway? The faces of every girl paled, the footmen next to the doorway wincing at the sure social suicide that was for all attending. You surely did not want to get on the bad graces of the intended for the prince. She would perhaps be queen one day.

Silence.

Even the birds seemed to be waiting in anticipation as suddenly everything was still. Rose’s dark blue eyes widening and the hand holding her fan beginning to shake as she took note of her cousin. The betrayal would run deep. It was easy to say such things with bitter jealousy running through her veins and her cousin out of sight.

“Petty gossip is to be expected. I understand jealousy, confusion of my association to the prince. Talking of my hobbies, my apparent non desirable hair or nose, even. I can’t understand speaking in such a way of someone but I did know it would happen.” Her voice stayed level, stepping closer, the clack of her heels on the stone path making each heartbeat quicken. “But what I can never understand… is coming up, or even speaking of me in such an unfavorable way to people who surely will more than happy to run rampant on the street with loose lips and spread such a… despicable thing. Saying I lift my dress for the prince in order to secure a position.” Her eyes burned in both fury and sadness, but she blinked back the emotion she could release later.

“Anyone who knows me, lest of all as much as you, Rosalie, would know I have no care for a social standing. There is more to life than money and wealth. I’ve spoken of it to you since we were babes, sitting in this very garden and making crowns of dandelions.” She swallowed, looking over to the patch where they did in fact sit. “I do not owe you any information. However… Prince Harry and I have a connection I did not expect. He pursued me. Asked me to court and I said yes.” She let this sink in to the women.

“He is a beautiful soul. More than his body and muscle you speak of. More than his wealth you’ve droned on and on over since we have become women. He is more than a title and a comfortable place to lay your head. Prince Harry… he is a beautiful man in every sense of the word, and I am offended on not only my behalf, but of his. To date accuse him of doing such a thing… if touching me in a manner in a public place, during his own party? Do you think him an animal? With no class?” Her tone grew sharper, already defensive of her lover.

“No! No- never, we would never speak ill of the prince-“ a round of babbles, the women sounding like clucking chickens halted when she raised her hand.

“You have. By insinuating he did such a thing with me, you’ve insulted his honor and his reputation and I will not stand by and allow it to happen. As of right now, I am courting the prince. But make no mistake.” She placed her hand on the table and all the women looked at her in a mix of fear and anticipation.

“If he chooses me to be his bride, his wife? I will not let any other slips of the tongue against him go without a punishment. I am not cruel, no. But I am protective of my own. I thought that ran in my family.” Her eyes cut to Rosalie. “I suppose it’s skips a few.” Shame colored her expression as she looked down.

“I came to ask for an opinion on my dress. However I see that won’t be necessary. I will have my own excitement. Have a lovely tea.”

—-

Harry’s heart was in his throat as he paced the grand hall. Today was the day he was. Getting to see his beloved Y/N. The castle was bustling with new decor. Signifying a courting, floral arrangements and garland of pink and red were strewn about. He had been waiting all day, making sure things were perfect.

“My darling son… please, you’ll make yourself sick with worry.” His mother gently smoothed his jacket, smiling at the nerves. Lovers anticipation was something so pure and sweet. Plus… she had heard a new tidbit of information that had made her like Y/N all the bit more. They all had.

The footmen and maids had loud mouths. Things travelled far and wide about Y/N’s altercation with her cousin, her friends and how she had so adamantly stood up for Harry. She had done it fiercely, as the story is told. Strong. Never truly wavering. Spoke of him so proudly. The queen knew that a future queen was in their midst.

Harry had heard of it too. While his heart aches for her to find out her cousin was being so villainous… knowing that she had been so quick to defend him? That she thought of him as more than a title and would be so protective of him so quickly on? It had him falling a bit deeper in love with her. Call him crazy. But she had managed to snare on to him like the ivy growing up the fences, tangling around his heart.

“I know. I just look forward to showing her our home. I like her very much, mother.” He said softly, looking at her smiling face. “It’s… been a long while since I’ve felt human. Cared for in a way someone would go out of their way to be so bold as to defend me to a group of their peers. Or even see why what they said was wrong.” Harry felt butterflies just thinking of her. It was bad.

“I agree. I think that so far, all of it showing a lovely match.” The Queen was hesitant to confirm she was perfect just in case, but her gut feeling was rarely ever wrong. “Just take a breath. I hear the arrival time is just a few moments away.” All she’s ever wanted was for him to be loved. It was a rarity in this society but she had faith he could find one like she and her husband had.

—-

She stole his breath. Truly, he had never been so winded just looking at another person’s beauty. Clad in a relatively simple but beautiful red dress, she looked like a work of art. Silky tendrils of hair falling down her back, body shaped with her corset to what Harry could consider perfection, he was blown away as she entered the hall.

“Lady Y/N.” He whispered as she approached with her bow, returning the gesture. It wasn’t needed on his end but he wanted them to be equals. “I am pleased to see you again. You look… absolutely beautiful.” Stepping closer, he took her hand into his and brought it to his mouth. A simple kiss was all it was, but the warmth of his lips on her knuckles had a shiver running down her back.

“You look wonderful, my prince.” She replied, swallowing thickly. His beauty was something she had written about in her journal in a squeaky mess after the ball. His cheeky demeanor and how he had been so suave and smooth and made her ache between her thighs. Breaking tradition for moments but still never going too far. She was smitten.

His sharp jaw and his pronounced nose and chiseled cheekbones, the deep dimples that had her swooning. It was incredible to her to know that he had eyes for her. Even more so that she could physically see it. See his want for her, his adoration so soon. “You flatter me.” He gently pulled his hand off of her though it hurt him to. “I have had a lunch set in the gardens.. and since you said you loved them so much, I will give you a tour of them afterwards.” His arm extended, offering it to her which she gladly took.

It was surprising to see how much attention to detail was given. The florals all over, the colors. The fact he had even thought of such a thing for her had her stomach in a cacophony of butterflies.

“I would be honored, my prince.” She felt heat rise to her cheeks as he gently tugged her to begin their walk towards the gardens. “The floral arrangements all over the palace…” she noticed as they walked, eyes wide with wonder. “You’ve done this for me?”

“Of course.” He said as if it was obvious.

“I spoke to my mother and my sister and they said it was a good past time if you choose to be with me. We have seemingly endless flowers. You would have access to them, of course. All of the florals here were pulled from our grounds.” There was pride and fondness in his voice. Proud of the place he resided for helping him woo the woman he felt so strongly about so soon, and fond because she was obvious about her love of it. Harry didn’t do thing half arsed. He was an all out type of man.

“That is so lovely, my prince.” She said quietly, though the delight was evident on her face. “I am… very excited. You know, when I sat in the gardens the first night I was a bit sad it was so dark. I couldn’t see any true colors but I’m able to now, and I am not disappointed.” The flowers were what she dreamed about frolicking in.

“Please. Call me Harry when we are alone.” He liked the way his name had fallen from her lips last time. How they’d rounded and let it fall. There hadn’t been a time where he craved hearing someone say his name, but this woman had a way of turning everything into a craving, evidentially.

It was definitely a jump into things. The way her thumb brushed back and forth over his jacket and she walked so close to him. It seemed they both craved the other’s touch and warmth. Harry didn’t want to wish away the wonder that was courting but he wished they were wed so it wouldn’t be frowned upon to pull her up to his chambers and worship every inch of her smooth skin with his mouth. Hear his name fall from hers a different way. But it had to wait.

“Alright, Harry.” She smiled, tone teasing. The walk was more than pleasant, moving them through the corridors as if she had been here a million times on his arm. It felt like everything was falling into place. Her sweet laugh tinkling through the echoing halls and looking up at him through her lashes, Harry could not imagine anyone better to be with.

The walk wasn’t too terribly long though, despite the expansiveness of the castle. It truly was something incredible that Y/N could barely fathom. All of this space for so few people? It was known the palace was a public space for some points of the year. Hearings, balls, royal weddings, all of which required space. But it would be a dream to live here and dance through the marbled halls, feel as though she lived a fantasy. Her own home was quite large as well, but nothing could or ever would compare to the castle.

“Here we are.” Broken out of her slight trance or thought, Y/N looked from his face to the sight they had just stepped out to see.

The gardens took her breath away.

Manicured but sprawling acres and acres, seemingly organized by color. From the top of the stairs, she had an overview of them. It was something out of a daydream. She had managed to see with the lanterns and night lighting they had provided that night but this, seeing it in the day? It meant so much more than he could ever know.

One day, it could all be hers.

She felt like she was floating as she made her way down the path with Harry, her hand squeezing his arm as he told her about his plans to expand the garden one day to another section and opens portion up for day visits for others. It had her heart swelling. Harry was a giving person and it showed in his actions, even before she had met him. Of course she had prematurely judged him a bit but she had never doubted his dedication and love of his people and kingdom.

“Harry… it’s out of my dreams.” She whispered in awe, looking around as they approached the pavilion where their meal was set up. Pastries and bread on the table, wine selection on the cart next to them. The table raised so they overlooked the garden but the vines winding around offered them a semblance of privacy. The lace table covering looked hand made, the plates fine china, all of it showing no lack of detail. And he had done it all for her.

His cheeks flushed slightly as she gave him an excited smile, lowering her arm from his as he pulled out her seat. Holding her hand, he kept it in his own before letting her sit herself down on to the comfortable chair. He had made sure to have the best ones from inside brought out because the iron ones usually sat here weren’t right for this occasion.

It wasn’t what every woman would choose for their first royal courting date but it was everything Y/N could have dreamt of. Perfection and detailed and personalized to her, she was shaking internally at how lovely the prince was. His seat was taken across from her but luckily it wasn’t too far away. Still? He felt needy for her touch. A dangerous storm brewing with that.

“You have outdone yourself, Harry.” She said again, looking down as the maid poured her glass of wine. “Thank you.” Her thanks to the help wasn’t missed by Harry. It was something he looked for and was relieved to see she had. They treated their people well in the palace, which is why it was such a revered place to work. Many of high society didn’t treat staff well, but the royal family did.

“I would do it all and more to assure you give me smiles like the one you’ve worn today.” His words were true, soft. Just for her. She hid part of her smile behind the rim of the glass, taking a sip. The man didn’t fail to make her neck flush though, because his attention to her was uninterrupted. He gave his own thanks to the maid and listened for her to walk off before taking some bread and placing it on Y/N’s plate. “I wanted to start off by saying you’ve already won the good graces of my mother and father. You’ve already had mine but… I can not begin to express how relieved and happy I was to hear of your high words and defense of me. Despite being hurt.”

It didn’t necessarily shock her because Y/N knew that news travelled and workers had big mouths, but to know the whole family knew of her betrayal still made her squirm. “I do not regret what I’ve said.” She didn’t think he would think so, but he had picked up on his her face had changed. “I would defend your honor anywhere- even if we weren’t courting. It’s dishonorable to think such a thing, let alone have it implied that it was to spread as gossip. You… I do not know of your history with women but I assure you, I know you do not need a bribe from an easy woman in a garden to make you fold. It insults your honor, your intelligence, your dedication to your kingdom and people.”

She hadn’t meant to get so worked up but Harry found himself both melted and aroused at the passion of which she spoke about him. “I thank you for that, darling.” The nickname fell from his lips without hesitation. “No one close to me has ever defended me with such anger, as if it was your own. It makes me all the more certain that you’ve been meant to be mine.” He looked at her for permission before taking her smaller hand in his own, rubbing his thumb across the smooth palm. So soft. A callous in one place from where she did her gardening but besides that, smooth silky skin.

“Of course, my prince.” Her breathing caught as she felt his thumb stroke back and forth over her hand. Like she was overly sensitive to his warmth and his strong touch. “It’s… despicable to do such a thing based off of pure spite. Jealousy. You deserve to be treated as more than… a cushy bed to lay in. Gold coins or expensive horses or a sprawling home. You have much to offer, your wit and intelligence and kindness…” she paused, looking over his handsome face. “We tire, as women, if the objectification we go through daily. Only being seen as bodies, pleasure, vessels. But they fail to realize they do it to you, too. You are more than strong arms and what is inside of your trousers.” She felt hot in her cheeks just at the implication but the point still stood.

It truly did move him to hear her speak though. Harry was used to it. To being seen as the next king, despite his parents trying to prove him as more. To be someone’s step up In society, power hungry mothers trying to spoon feed their daughters to him as if he would take the bait and let them trap him. As if he was a mere child, meant to be tempted with the promise of a sweet. It felt so… dirty. Not in the good way, either. Grimy and slimy and not at all the way he felt around Y/N.

Warm, like his finest linens. Soft like the cashmere blankets that lined his bed. Light, like the bubble mixture made of soap the children would blow during summer festivals. Bubbly, just like the frothy baths he would take. She made him feel like he felt on the mornings of holidays when he was but a child, excited for gifts in stockings and grand feasts. Nothing like the way anyone else had ever made him feel.

“Y/N, I…” he swallowed, squeezing her hand and letting his foot brush hers. “I can not begin to describe to you how much it truly means to me to hear you say all of these things. When I was out in the garden I was clearing my head from the ball.” His eyes locked with hers, the emerald hue making her stomach sink and warm. Intensity was Harry’s specialty. “I was tired of the same questions and answers and the same gazes on my rings and my crown… it’s all people seem to see. But you… you spoke to me as a human. Barely bothered to leave your book, didn’t curtsy, didn’t fall over yourself the way so many others would. I felt human again.” It was quiet in the garden but his statement felt loud to her. Loud and ringing in her ears. She hasn’t considered how truly he must have felt the way he was viewed, and it hurt her heart.

“People tip toe around me. As if… one wrong move and it’s off with their heads. I am not and have never conducted myself in such a manner, I can be grumpy, I can be an arse but never… I would never harm someone for no reason. I do not walk around with the hopes of intimidation though I know I do have that quality. It can be hard to feel human, to make any worthwhile connection. Even when I train with the guards, army training, battles, I’m seen as a treasure to protect rather than a brother in arms.” He sucked his cheeks and dropped his gaze, flipping her hand over and looking at the bare fingers.

“Then comes along a lady of nobility who takes her shoes off in gardens while expensive balls are happening to observe the flowers. To speak to me as a friend, as a man, rather than a title. To me? That is something that can not be replaced. Add to it your loyalty, your passion, your bravery all while facing the heartbreak of betrayal to be so loyal to me and defend my honor… I can answer their questions quite simply.” His heart was beating hard in his chest, throat felt tight but his voice was deep as he kissed her knuckles again.

“Why I chose you, why you would make a good queen in my eyes? You have every desirable quality. The reason they don’t see it is because they do not have them themselves. I barely know the ladies who have hurt you, but I do know none of them were memorable enough for me to place their names with faces.” He sighed, placing their hands joined on the table again. “You are brave, honest, kind, and the most beautiful woman I’ve ever had the pleasure to gaze on. That is why. It is very soon in our courtship but I feel very confident in our pairing.”

The prince paused, looking over her face. She didn’t look anything but pleased but she did not answer right away, making him a bit antsy. She had a way of doing that to him. A woman easy to make him stumble. “Do you feel the same?”

It was adorable. To see his nerves and see his fierceness of a lion melt to one of a kitten looking for a pet. Her prince was something of a marvel himself, and she longed to pet him. Stroke those pretty locks of hair back and feel him purr.

“I do.” She squeezed his larger hand and met his eyes. “I did not want to get my hopes up but I feel… I fear I feel a lot for you already, Harry. A lot more than I ever anticipated. Our first day together and I’m already longing to stay. Forgive my openness but we are alone…” she stood up, taking her chair and moving it closer to his. Same side of the table and turning to face him, ever so slowly lifting her hand and letting it cup the side of his face while examining him closer.

“You make me nervous in a good way. A way I crave. I enjoy the feeling in my stomach when I look at you. You have an intensity that makes me feel…” she trailed off with a soft sigh. “Like I am under artistic scrutiny as you look at me. You are intimidating, perhaps, but intensity is more of a word I would use. Especially with me. I don’t think your eyes have left me since I’ve arrived.” Her thumb brushed his cheekbone, feeling him lean into it. “I quite like it.”

It was relief hearing her thoughts, even more so feeling her skin on his own. Turning his head, his lips pressed to the middle of her palm as he held her wrist in his, pressing soft kisses all over the palm and up to the tips of her fingers. Showing his affections in the way that he can. He can’t possibly touch her in other ways- not yet. But he craved it.

It caused an ache between her thighs, looking at the green eyes as he pressed those lips against her skin in a way she had never experienced. “Why would I look away when the most beautiful thing is in front of me? Why would I waste a moment looking at anything else?” He grumbled against her hand, kissing down to her wrist and back up before grabbing her other hand and proceeding to do the same to that one.

“I am feeling a lot of emotions towards you, Darling. A lot of things that I have ever experienced but I do not wish to get rid of them. Looking at you is the highlight of my day. I’ve missed you since that night in my garden. I feel as though when I see you… when I look at you…” he paused, calming his kisses before placing her hand back on his cheek. His eyes made sure they locked with her own, mouth a bit dry but head and heart certain of his words. This was only the beginning.

“I’m looking into the rest of my life. My future.”

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