#happy first day of kinktober fuckers

[ghoulelegy]

Ghost Kinktober Day 1 - High Sex / Tentacles Monsterfucking

Based around the prompt list by @kroas-adtam

Divider by @gothdaddyissues

Pairing: Water!Dewdrop / Aether

Features: Tentacle Sex, Bath sex

Words: 700

Read it under the cut or on AO3 (If you prefer that)

NSFW UNDER THE CUT

"Oh Darling, don't worry."

Aether and Dewdrop joined the band at around the same time, and the two immediately became close friends. But it became quite obvious that the two eventually caught feelings for each other. Which is why it wasn't a surprise when Dewdrop dragged him to his room. What was a surprise was when Dew asked Aether if he'd like to bathe with him.

"I like where this is going, Dew." Aether purred softly, his voice sounding like the smell of incense.

"Is this okay?" Dew knelt down next to his bath, where a naked Aether sat. He put his taloned thumb against Aether's left cheek, gently tracing a slow, caressing path along his cheekbone, where a sprinkling of speckled freckles adorned his skin like stardust.

"Love, you know I can never say no." Aether's voice was filled with nothing but affection, his gaze locking onto Dewdrop with unwavering intensity.

With a look of contentment, Dewdrop turned on the faucet, which started to fill the bathtub with the warmth of crystal-clear water. Aether couldn't help but notice the way the webbing on Dew's fingers sprung to action the second he touched the water it allowed him to manipulate the flow and temperature of it.

With careful ease, he pulled Aether's face towards his and pressed his lips onto the quintessence ghoul. He felt his chilly skin against Aether's mellow warm cheeks, his hand against the nape of his neck. Not before he himself stripped off his clothes before jumping into the bath, his cock slamming against the water.

"Oh sweet, do you trust me" Dew's voice was plagued with a sultry desire "How much do you trust me?" He felt the quintessential ghoul's eyes gaze into his which were filled to the brim with longing and anticipation. The way Dew spoke sent shivers down his spine, his heart started palpitating with desire.

"Do you trust me enough to do this?" Dew dipped his hands in the fluid and when he brought his appendages back out they were replaced with now sinuous tentacles, glistening with a sheen of translucent and delicate goo. Each tentacle bore a subtle iridescence, which was reflected on the water.

"Dew. What the fuck?!" was Aether's flabbergasted laugh.

"Oh, a weird trick I was practising. It's nice being a water ghoul sometimes" Dew chuckles. "You didn't answer my question."

"Yes?" Was Aether's dumbstruck answer.

"You don't seem sure."

"I am sure! I'm just - surprised. Holy satan's balls, what the fuck. You have no idea how much I want this, Dew. Can-Can I? Touch it?"

"Yeah go ahead."

Of course, Aether never expected a fucking water ghoul to have the ability to pull this off. His already wrinkled fingers danced on the gummy-like texture of the tentacle, examining each sucker with delicate precaution.

"I want to eat it," Aether said with a toothy grin.

"Don't, you whore"

Dew pushed his face against that of Aether's, gliding his tentacles on Aether's fuzzy chest, the suckers slithering down his groin, before tightening themselves against Aether's shaft. kissing him again. He felt the other ghoul's breathing quickening against his ears, his muscles tightening and trembling, as the water ghoul pressed his lips against the other one once more.

"S-satan's balls, Dew" Aether moaned "I-"

"Go on, whore" Dew's sensual words glided across the bath, filling Aether's mind with a lovesick haze, before pressing his lips against him again. Aether felt a pang against his chest as Dew brought the other tentacle against his cheeks, the rough texture of the suction cups offering a respite of refreshing chill against the heat of the bathtub, instinctively tightening his grip on the shaft. Aether continued to jitter in the water.

"I'm so close. Holy shit" Aether's moans echoed throughout the bathroom "Dew—It feels *so so good*" He sewed his eyes shut, his face contorted as he instinctively thrust his pelvis back and forth. The tentacles on his dick pulsated back and forth, his thrusting rhythmic with the throbbing of the limb. This - how the fuck is this even possible.

"Dew please - I can't" he continued to groan "not in the water"

"Don't worry darling, we'll clean it up later" Dewdrop winks.

#ghostober #happy first day of kinktober fuckers #kinktober 2023 #Ghostober 2023 #dewdrop ghoul #aether ghoul #dewdrop x aether #ghoulelegywrites #band ghost #ghost fanfiction

[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

[corazondebeskar-reads]

well it's love, make it hurt - ch. 9

nine: it doesn't feel a thing like falling

series masterlist | prev chapter | next chapter

dom!Din Djarin x sub!f!reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Summary: You discover the Razor Crest has a cell for bounties. Mando is more than happy to make use of it.

Warnings: bdsm, established relationship, dom!Din Djarin x sub!reader, restraints, caging, spanking, cockwarming, oral (m receiving), gags, aftercare, soft dom Din, no y/n

Originally written for Kinktober Day 24 - brat/caging, inspired by @absurdthirst’s wonderful prompt list.

also on ao3

You hadn’t managed to catch Vanda at the coordinates Madame Anissa gave you, but you had managed to get a tracker on one of his associates’ ships. It takes a little of the pressure off, which is good because chasing these fuckers is eating up your fuel budget.

You’d caught a little easy money on the way and stopped to drop them off. Vanda and his gaggle of ex-ISB are just a few planets over. You're up in the cockpit, Mando punching in his calculations for the nav, when you notice a soft hissing noise from below.

“Shit, those idiots didn’t reconnect the seal,” he says, moving to stand.

“I got it.” Better than taking over the jump. Someday, you'd pay better attention or ask him to teach you, but right now, you'd be about as much use as a Wampa herder on Tatooine.

When you get into the back of the ship, it takes a few minutes to figure out how to engage the re-sealing process. You haven’t technically been back here. When you first started flying with Mando, you had peeked, but the carbonite bodies were too unsettling.

You were more than happy to let him continue to haul them to the ship and ice them.

It’s not too complicated of a system, so once you're satisfied you won’t be poisoned from a gas leak, you close and lock the panel.

And then you see it.

To the left of the empty carbonite storage is a small cell with floor-to-ceiling bars, big enough for one large being. Mando always froze bounties, and it hadn’t occurred to you that the Crest was even equipped to hold an alert quarry.

You reach out. Like your hand is drawn to it without your consent, testing the lightest touch with the pads of your fingertips. It's cold and rough metal. You wrap your hand around a bar and shake, but it has no give.

“What are you doing?” Mando says.

You jump about an inch out of your skin. “How are you so fucking quiet?”

He doesn’t bother to answer you, instead slowly looking you up and down. “What are you doing, cyar’ika?”

“Oh, um.” You let go of the bar. “Just, uh.”

He cups your cheek in one gloved hand. “Just a little curious?”

“Yep, and now I’ve seen it, so.”

His grip tightens, holding your jaw when you move to sneak around him. “No, don’t run off.”

Oh, kriff. His voice is low and breathy. You try to hold very still.

He chuckles. “Go on, cyar’ika. You can take a closer look.”

You don’t move, don’t dare look away.

He reaches behind you and punches something into the keypad. The door pops open, the metallic vibrations reverberating in the small room.

His hand lowers to your shoulder, and he pushes, oh so gently, until you take a step back. And another.

He shuts the door. The lock slides into place with a clunk and a sharp beep.

You’re still staring at each other. You wet your lips with the tip of your tongue and step forward, grabbing the bars in each hand.

“You going to keep me locked up in here?” You’re not sure where the boldness comes from, but you put on your best pout.

“Maybe I should. Keep you out of trouble.”

“I won’t be any trouble. I’ll be good. Promise.”

You both know he’s going to let you out. You have to be buckled in for takeoff. But just for a moment, you’re entranced.

He laughs. “I don’t know. Sluts like you don’t know how to be good.”

You’re aching. Dripping. Salivating.

“Please, sir?”

“You have one chance,” he says, reaching to open the cell. He pulls you out by the arm. “Get your ass in your seat and be buckled before I get up there.”

You scramble to obey. By the time he climbs the ladder, you’re squirming, one knee jerking up and down in a fluttering rhythm.

He doesn’t say anything. He looks you over and then straps himself in. By the time you’re on the route, you’ve nearly edged yourself in anticipation. So when he unstraps himself and moves about the cabin without giving you permission to get up, you whine.

“I thought you were going to be good?” he calls from somewhere behind you.

You swallow down the next whine, but you’re losing the battle.

He goes back to his seat, legs spread wide. “What are you waiting for? Get over here.”

You gasp. “But—”

“But what? Make yourself useful, or you’re going back in the cell.”

You feel a little lightheaded. This isn’t his style, but it’s fucking thrilling. You scramble to unbuckle and situate yourself on your knees at his feet.

He looks down at you, helmet tilted. You open your mouth and stick your tongue out.

“Maybe you do have a brain in there somewhere and not just a warm hole,” he says.

You can’t help the desperate groan that escapes your waiting mouth. He sticks two gloved fingers in, pressing down on your tongue.

“Listen,” he snaps his fingers in front of your face. “I have things to take care of. I don’t have time to keep you out of trouble. So what you’re going to do is sit here and keep my cock warm so I can keep an eye on you. Understood?”

You nod, which pushes his fingers deeper into your throat. He pulls his hand out and slaps you across the face.

“I expect an answer when I ask you a question,” he says.

“Yes, sir.”

He slaps you again. “That wasn’t a fucking question.”

You moan.

“Yeah, I know. All you can think about is cock.” He pulls his out, and you move to take it.

He grabs you by the hair and holds you an inch away. “You’re going to hold still. No licking. No sucking. You’re only here so I have a warm, wet place to keep my dick.” And then he shoves you on it, pushing your head down on his lap.

It takes a lot of effort to hold still. You swallow a little too hard once, and he swats you on the ass.

His arms wrap around you, and you think maybe you can relax, after all. His scent and heft are soothing, and his embrace is nice.

Until he reaches for the datapad, and you realize he’s using your back as a fucking table.

You moan, eyes rolling back into your head, and he spanks you harder.

He pulls you off by your hair. “You really don’t want to be distracting me right now,” he says and pushes you right back down on his cock.

It’s agony. Every so often, he twitches a little, or precum leaks out, and you can’t do anything about it, and your throat aches. Not because he’s hurting you but because you need it, you need him. You don’t mean to, but you rock back and forth a little.

He doesn’t pull you off this time. He wraps his hands around your neck and squeezes the sides. It doesn’t last long, just enough that you start to feel tingly, and he lets go. Somehow, by the light of the stars, you hold still when he releases you.

“Oh, good girl,” he croons, rewarding you with a soft caress on your cheek.

You do okay for a while. It feels like an hour, but you have a bad feeling it’s only been five or so minutes.

The worst part is that you can’t stop thinking about what he’s doing on the datapad. He sure as hell doesn’t have work of any kind. The idea that he might be sat there watching a holo or reading while you suffer makes you a little petulant.

When you just can’t take it anymore, you start to test your boundaries. He doesn’t react when you squeeze your throat just a little. You press your tongue gently against the underside of his cock. You shift a little to ease the ache between your thighs and earn a hit for it.

You whine, and he yanks your head off his cock. “Naughty girl. You just can’t help yourself, can you?”

“No, sir.”

“That’s not an acceptable answer.” He yanks you up so your top half is dangling off the side of the seat, holding you down securely by the waist, and spanks you.

There’s no build-up, no breaks. He doesn’t even make you count. You’re getting dizzy. All you can do is lay there and take it, huffing little moans and yelps. It hurts, and your skin is burning, but you’re rolling your hips against his leg.

“Are you going to cum from this?”

You moan, trying to grind down on his knee.

Smack. “Go on then, slut. Cum.” He doesn’t let up, landing sharp, hard strikes while you fall apart.

Once you’ve ridden out the aftershocks, he runs his hand across your ass. The gloves are rough, leaving you whining as they scrape your raw skin.

“Well, we can hardly consider that a lesson learned. Get down there and wait for me by the ladder.” He lands another hard hit to your ass once you’ve stood.

When he gets down, he pushes you against the wall and cuffs your wrists behind your back. He uses your arms to steer you to the back of the ship.

“No, please,” you beg. “I can be good, I promise.”

"Then you should have been good upstairs. Too late for that now."

He pushes you against the bars, laughing when you yelp from the cold. “Open wide, cyar’ika.”

You do, and from behind you, he fits a ring gag into your mouth and secures it behind your head.

“What do you do if you need to use your word, pretty girl?”

You snap your fingers three times behind your back.

“Good girl. Now get on your knees in the cell.” He pushes you in and locks the gate.

You drop down, wincing as you hit the durasteel floor. But your head is fuzzy, and your clit is throbbing, and the only thing that matters is Mando.

You’re looking up at him with wide eyes, offering yourself up to be consumed. He reaches down and tugs you by your collar until your face is pressed against the bars. There’s just enough room for him to shove his cock into your mouth.

“Go ahead, suck it.”

You whine, flattening your tongue and licking, but you have no way to get more of him in your mouth and no way to properly worship it.

He feeds a little more of it in. “I thought you wanted to suck my cock, cyar’ika? It’s right there.”

You whine again, saliva pooling and dripping to the floor.

“What, you need some help?” He grabs a handful of hair and holds you there, thrusting deep into your throat.

It’s not enough. You ache for him. His thick cock fills you and bruises the back of your throat, but it’s not what you need. It’s not what he’s ordered you to do, and you aren’t used to not being able to obey.

He sees the tears before they fall and brushes them away. “I know, cyare, I’m being very cruel to you. But I have no choice. You were being so greedy.”

Your eyes roll back into your head, and, even though you know it’s convoluted, it makes you feel better. You’re not disobeying; you’re suffering for him.

Your chest hurts. The ache spreads through your arms and brings more tears to your eyes. You need him. You need this.

His thrusts are getting rougher, and you’re having a hard time thinking at all.

“You’re taking it so good for me, sweetheart. You want my cum?”

You whine desperately around him.

Mando thinks about teasing you. But he can’t, not when he can see the adoration and devotion in your eyes. He relaxes his grip on your hair, sliding his hand to gently cup your chin, and pushes deep into your throat to cum.

You moan, drinking him down.

When he pulls out, you lower yourself to rest on your legs. He punches in the code and helps you out before sitting on the floor right there in the chamber and pulling you into his lap.

He unhooks the gag and eases it out of your mouth, rubbing gentle circles on the hinges of your jaw. You’re looking at him with a trembling lip and something on the edge of desperation. He removes his gloves and tosses them to the side, running one bare hand up and down your arm and sliding the other between your legs.

“Oh, cyare, you’re soaked. Let me help you.”

You’re hoping for something rough to shake away the rawness; he knows that. But it’s not what you need, so he rubs soft circles around your clit. You shudder and jerk, but he holds you tight with his other arm.

“Shh, just let me take care of you. Let me make you feel good.”

You dig your fingers into his tunic and tuck your face against him as you try to ride out the sensations. It’s so intense, and he’s barely touching you.

He knows you’re close, but he doesn’t change a thing. You’re going to break anyway.

It’s agony. Exquisite, terrible pleasure. Your abdomen feels tight, stretched like a slingshot, and you’re not sure if he’s going to let go before you snap. But you trust that either way, he’ll put you back together.

You bite down on his arm when he tells you to cum. You don’t mean to, but the scream that wrenches out of you is too much to bear, and your body can’t help but follow its instincts for self-preservation.

Luckily, unlike in a fight, you don’t tear his flesh or his shirt. He groans, deep and long, holding you against him even as your body rides through the aftershocks.

“Fuck, that was beautiful,” he says after you’ve released him.

“M’sorry,” you mumble.

“No, don’t apologize. You okay?”

You nod, but he knows you.

He knows you in his heart, and he picks you up and sets you in the bunk just as you start to sob. He climbs in and holds you to his chest until you calm down.

“Ner kar’ta,” he murmurs, pressing his helmet to your forehead. “Thank you. You’re so good to me.”

You don’t have the energy to talk, so you press kisses against his chest and snuggle in. You were drifting off when he nudged you.

“Cyar’ika, you’re shaking. That was pretty intense, and I’d like to get some food in you.”

You whimper and bury your face in his shirt.

“You wanna stay down here, read in the bunk?” he offers. “I can leave the door open if you need.”

“Okay.”

He tucks you in. “I’ll be right back.” He ducks upstairs for just a moment and returns with the datapad, setting it on your lap and handing you a full canteen and a few of your favorite amethyst sweetbreads.

“You can shut the door,” you say softly.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I know you’re right there. But I…I dunno.”

“You liked being locked in, huh? Makes you feel safe?”

You nod, relieved that he understands what you couldn’t find the words to explain. Plus, you want him to be able to eat. You dutifully take a drink and eat a cookie so he can stop hovering.

When he closes the door and goes to make dinner, you turn on the datapad to read, but can’t fight the curiosity and flick through to figure out what he was doing while you had a mouthful of cock.

Your mouth drops open. That evil nerfherder. “You finished my kriffing crossword?”

His unmodulated laughter echoes through the hull.

#din djarin x reader #mando x reader #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x f!reader #dom din djarin #kinktober 2023 #make it hurt verse #the mandalorian fic #the mandalorian smut

[lavenderbexlatte]

day 26 - exhibitionism

nct 1.2k words female reader insert Reader x Nakamoto Yuta NSFW

🖤 warnings: welcome back day 16 mc!!! she’s getting the goods!!! explicitly protected sex, penetrative sex, please don’t be like this i don’t want anyone getting indecent exposure charges 🖤

🎂 happy yuta day~

kinktober masterlist

connect with me! / masterlist

"I heard you were looking for me."

You look up from your textbook, first in simple confusion, but any intention of skimming back over this lesson is forgotten when you see who it is, leaning on your table in the student cafe.

Yuta is as beautiful as you remember, dark wavy hair and sharp eyes, his lean form in his stylishly baggy clothes. He's looking at you with a mixture of mirth and curiosity, and you can feel your pulse pick up.

"You're (Y/N), right?" he asks.

You nod. It's all you can do.

"Then that's right. Heard you wanted to see me."

"Who'd you hear that from?" you ask.

"It's hot gossip," he tells you. "In my house, at least."

Fucking Doyoung, that snitch.

"Someone let slip that when you found Doyoungie, the other week, you were looking for me," he says.

You glance around, to see if anyone else is witnessing this batshit crazy scene. All you find is Yangyang the barista, leaning over the counter and giving you a shark's grin and a not-so-subtle thumbs up. You'd forgotten that the kid is in the same frat, too. He probably knows exactly what's up. He's probably even the someone who told Yuta everything, that nosy little shit.

"I mean," you start, "I mean, yeah. Yes."

"And yet, you fucked around with Doyoung."

He doesn't sound upset or jealous or anything. He just sounds curious. That, you can handle.

So you grin. "He needed it."

"I'm sure he did," Yuta agrees.

"But yes, I was looking for you."

"Gonna tell me what for?" he asks, sliding out the other chair at your little table and making himself comfortable.

He's sitting with the chair turned backwards, his sharp chin hooked over the back. You close your textbook.

"Well," you say. "I liked your piercing."

"Which one?" He tucks his hair behind his ear, on one side, showing off a lobe full of pretty rings.

"The belly button piercing."

"The best one," he smirks.

Pretty and charming. He's a real threat, and it makes you even more thirsty for him.

"Can I get you a drink?" you ask.

"I've had enough caffeine for today, thanks."

"Plus, we're closing!" Yangyang calls, obviously eavesdropping.

You roll your eyes at him, but you do glance at your phone. He's right. The cafe closes at 11, and it's about to strike the hour now. He's probably been waiting to kick you out, just watching everything unfold like a drama.

The connecting student lounge is open 24 hours, though, so you pick up your bag and your book and nod toward the next room, silently asking (begging) for Yuta to join you there.

Your favorite table in the corner is open, so that's where you stop. It's a booth, of sorts, built into the corner walls with high-backed benches around the square table. The design boxes the table in from three directions, making it a perfect semi-private place to study or sleep.

Or to hide out with Yuta, whose hand is firm on your thigh as soon as he follows you into the booth.

"I was kinda flattered, you know, when I figured out who you were," he says. "Someone cute as you chasing me down."

"Sorry I didn't just do it outright. Wasted a ton of time," you reply.

Yangyang passes by, then, his work apron slung over his shoulder. He throws something at you, that bounces off the table and onto the floor.

"Don't get arrested," he says, before he disappears out the door and into the night.

Yuta ducks under the table to retrieve the projectile, and he comes up laughing.

"Little fucker," he says fondly.

It's a condom.

"Are we gonna need that tonight?" you ask.

"Unless you wanna go raw," Yuta says, far too loudly for the public place you're in.

There's nobody close by, though. Maybe a couple people studying across the room, out of sight from your vantage point inside the little cocoon of your booth. But it's definitely still public. That's also not what you'd meant, but you know, he has a point.

"Maybe not the first time," you reply.

"That implies there's gonna be more times."

"If this one goes well, there might be."

Yuta laughs again, the picture of easy grace. "I like you. You're fun."

"We haven't even started yet," you say.

He lays down, then, back meeting the durable fabric of the bench seat and arms folded under his head. "Get started, then."

You look down at him from the next seat, appraising. He's on the bench directly behind the table, so that any passersby probably wouldn't see him at first glance. But anyone who approached would, most definitely. Not that there's anyone passing by...

"Here?"

"Unless you really don't want to," Yuta says. "Which is cool. But hey, no time like the present."

You have to take a second and think about it. Messing around with Yuta, here? In front of a potential audience of other students, sitting just across the room? It makes your stomach churn with anticipation, but not, you think, in a negative way.

This is exactly what Yuta wants, you realize. He wants to do it here, he wants the risk of someone seeing. Vain motherfucker that he is.

Well, there's a first time for everything, huh?

You go for his belt before your nerve leaves you. "Can I-?"

"Of course."

It's a thrill but not a surprise to find that Yuta's hard already. If he's as into this on principle as you think he is, he's probably been hard this whole time. You wrap your hand around him, hesitating, and he notices.

"Nervous?"

"A little," you admit, "I've never..."

"I'll stay down here. You can take a ride, for a sec, get into it," he suggests.

That's how you find yourself sitting sidesaddle on Yuta's lap. Your book is open on the table as if you're studying, your feet on the floor, your pants shimmied down your thighs just enough (hell of a day to wear pants), cock buried inside you, pretending you're sitting on a normal old bench and fucking sweating through it.

Yuta had slipped the condom on and slipped you on right after. It's been nearly ten minutes, and you're...it's...

"Not enough," you whine.

"Sweetheart, if we switch it up," he says, patronizing and dark and delicious, "Then people will definitely see."

As if to prove his point, the far door opens and a few voices trail into the student lounge, people talking softly. They stop somewhere out of view, you hear chairs scraping as they settle at a table, but the thrill of it isn't any less present. If they came just a little bit closer, to sit at any of the half-dozen tables in full view of yours...

But Yuta is throbbing inside you, hot and perfect and not nearly enough.

You move off him, to the side, and you tug at his shoulder until he sits up, smirking at you. Only a little prodding has him sitting properly on the bench, so you can scramble into his lap facing him. Any illusion of normalcy is gone, like this, the table's edge digging into your back as you scoot it away to make more room for yourself, well and truly wrapped around Yuta.

You can barely get out the words, as you line him up and press down on him again.

"Let 'em see."

#kinktober 2022 #kpop kinktober #nakamoto yuta fanfic #nakamoto yuta smut #nct yuta fanfic #nct yuta smut #na yuta smut #na yuta fanfic #nct fanfic #nct 127 fanfic #nct smut #nct 127 smut

[fangirlingtodeath513]

Kinktober Day 1 - First Time

Read here on AO3 Rating: Explicit Ships: Castiel/Dean Winchester Tags: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Smut, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Time Having Sex, First Time, Anal Fingering, Grinding, Dirty Talk, Kinktober, Anal Sex, Human Castiel (Supernatural), Post-Finale, Post-Season/Series Finale

Dean’s hands are clammy. He knew this was the endgame of the night, obviously, and he’s been looking forward to it for like a week now, but it’s surreal. He’s actually nervous. He can’t remember the last time he was nervous for sex. Then again, he also can’t remember the last time he had sex with someone he genuinely cared about.

“Are you alright, Dean?” Castiel’s hand settles on his thigh. Fuck, even the sound of his voice is like a balm to Dean’s overactive mind. It brings a small smile to his lips and, before he can rethink it, he lifts Cas’s hand to his mouth and presses a kiss to his knuckles.

“I’m great. Better than great, actually. Can’t remember ever being this happy.”

Cas practically beams at that, and Dean can feel his heart beating faster. It’s hard to focus on driving when he feels like he could die from happiness, but he somehow manages to get them back to the little rental they booked for the weekend in one piece.

They deserve this. Hell, they deserve way more than this, but this is a start. The cabin is cute enough, with a hot tub on the back porch and a four-poster, king-size bed. They’d gotten here last night, but after a day spent in the car, they were both too exhausted to do much more than dump their bags on the floor and collapse into bed. Cas had woken up with some unfairly hot bedhead, but Dean had a plan for this weekend, and he wasn’t about to let it be ruined by some messy hair.

He releases Cas’s hand only long enough for them to both climb out of the car, quickly sliding his fingers between the former angel’s as they make their way up the porch. He revels in the tiny smile it brings to Cas’s lips.

“How are we doing on the whole “human for the second time around” thing? So far, at least.”

Castiel chuckles. “Well, I haven’t been murdered by a reaper yet.”

Dean huffs a laugh and punches the code into the lock on the door. “Yeah, I guess the bar was already pretty low.”

Castiel hums softly as Dean turns to close the door behind them, locking it and sucking in a deep breath. It doesn’t do much to calm his nerves.

“Are you alright?” Castiel asks softly, resting a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t… want to.”

Dean scoffs. “No, I want to, Cas. I promise.” He takes another deep breath before turning to face Castiel. His eyebrows are pinched like he’s nervous Dean might reject him. He wonders how often Castiel worries about that. “You sure you want to?”

Castiel raises an eyebrow. “Am I sure that I want to finally have you underneath me after being in love with you for more years than I care to admit? Yes, I think so.”

Dean can feel the tips of his ears burning, so he doesn’t even want to imagine what his face looks like. “In love with, huh?” he asks, a stupid grin on his face.

Castiel rolls his eyes, but he smiles back as he leans in to draw Dean into a kiss. “Yes, Dean, I’m positive. Now are you going to stop stalling and come with me to the bedroom, or should I get started without you?”

Dean gapes at him. “Start without me? Now hang on a minute…”

Castiel shoots him a grin as he backs down the hallway toward the bedroom. Little fucker. He knows exactly how to push Dean’s buttons. It’s stupidly hot.

They both shed their layers on the way to the bedroom until they’re left barefoot, in their t-shirts and jeans. Dean pulls him into a kiss, winding his arms around Cas’s waist. They’ve done plenty of this since Castiel came back from the empty, blessedly alive and fully human. It had been an awkward few moments, considering Dean had shoved him against the nearest wall and made up for the decade they could have spent kissing if they hadn’t been such idiots. Sam had uncomfortably cleared his throat more than a few times, and god only knows what Jack was thinking, but Dean couldn’t find it in himself to care. He had his angel back, that was all that mattered.

He only pulls away long enough to tug Castiel’s shirt over his head, dropping it somewhere behind them and nudging Cas to sit on the bed. He shamelessly climbs onto his lap, threading a hand through his hair as he kisses and sucks his way down the former angel’s neck. Castiel’s hands are everywhere, roaming over every inch of Dean’s skin that he can reach. They finally settle on Dean’s thighs, holding him close as Cas draws him into another kiss. This one is filthy, all tongue, Castiel’s teeth scraping against Dean’s bottom lip. It drives Dean just a little bit insane, and it seems like Cas can tell since he does it again with a hint of a smirk on his lips. 

“Do you like that, Dean?” he murmurs, his voice distractingly deep and warm, rumbling against Dean’s chest as he laughs. “I’ve dreamed about this for so long. Watching you let go for me.”

Dean shivers, blinking a few times to regain some semblance of composure as he lets Castiel remove his shirt. He doesn’t even care where Castiel drops it, he’ll worry about finding it in the morning. It’s the least of his concerns right now, especially once he leans back long enough to take in the sight in front of him—Castiel, shirtless, chest heaving with a sheen of sweat and a smirk on his lips as he lets Dean drink in his fill.

“God, Cas,” he mutters, dragging a thumb over one of his nipples, noting the sharp intake of breath he gets in response. “You’re incredible.”

Castiel chuckles, the sound like a warm, fluffy blanket wrapping around Dean. “I could say the same about you, you know. You’re beautiful, Dean, and despite how much I’d love to sit here and stare at you—”

“So a normal night for you,” Dean interrupts with a smirk, laughing when Castiel rolls his eyes.

“As much as I’d love it, I’d much prefer to see how you feel around my cock.”

Dean swallows, tongue darting out to lick his lips. “Wow, that was… way hotter than it should have been.”

Castiel laughs. “Is that a yes?”

Dean nods quickly, sliding off Castiel’s lap long enough to ditch his jeans and boxers. Castiel does the same, so when Dean climbs back into his lap they’re both blessedly naked. He lets himself bask in the moment, pulling Castiel into a kiss as he rocks his ass along the length of Castiel’s hardness, sucking in a shuddering breath. It’s been a damn long time since he’s had anything other than a toy inside him and as much as he’d like to rush the process, he doesn’t want Castiel’s first time with him to be anything less than perfect. So he takes his time, getting them both wound so tightly they could snap before he even reaches for the bottle of lube he’d brought with them and, thankfully, stashed in the bedside table earlier.

Castiel snatches it from him with a wicked grin. “I’ve dreamt about this, too. May I?”

Dean swallows, nodding quickly. “Yeah, Cas, yeah, my god.” He shuffles off his lap, sprawling out on the bed and pulling Castiel on top of him. “Never wanted anything more in my life.”

Castiel pouts. Honest to god pouts. Dean feels like he could combust. “Not even me?”

“Fuck, you’re gonna be the death of me,” he breathes out, mostly to himself, tugging Castiel down into a kiss. “C’mon, want you inside me sooner than later.”

Castiel smirks. “Say please.”

Dean groans. “Please, Cas.”

He half expects a good boy thrown in there, but he doesn’t get one. Instead, he gets the click of the lube cap, so he leans up on his elbows to watch Castiel.

He’s gorgeous. His hair is a goddamn mess, his chest flushed a nice, warm red, and his eyes—they’ve got a wild look to them, but they’re so utterly focused on Dean that it makes his heart beat a little faster.

“Alright. You’re ready?”

He doesn’t think he has the strength to speak right now, so he just nods. Castiel shoots him a small smile and leans down to kiss him. He’s a fucking master with his tongue, so much so that Dean barely even registers his finger pushing into him. He groans against Castiel’s lips, letting his knees drop open even more, hopefully encouraging him to continue. Castiel seems to get the message, his tongue sliding into Dean’s mouth as a second finger splits him open. He’s effectively trapped between the sensations of Castiel’s tongue and fingers and there’s no place on Earth that he’d rather be.

Castiel breaks their kiss, and Dean just barely has the presence of mind to bite back a whine. “I’m not hurting you, am I?” Castiel asks softly, pressing a kiss to Dean’s jaw. 

Dean shakes his head quickly, sucking in a breath and pulling Cas’s mouth back to his. “Mm mm. Feels good, Cas. Can’t wait to have you inside me. C’mon, I can handle another.”

He feels Castiel shiver against him and grins, grinding against his fingers. It takes a minute, but eventually, Cas shakes himself from his stupor and presses a third finger into him. It burns, but Dean is wound so tight that he doesn’t even care. He wants Castiel inside him as quickly as possible, and honestly, even the burn feels a little bit good.

Still, he gets impatient after a few minutes, the burn faded and the thought of Cas splitting him open much more enticing than his fingers. “Ready, Cas, quit teasing,” he manages to get out, eyes fluttering closed when his fingers rub against his prostate, sending a warm jolt through him. “Fuck, please, want you inside me when I come,” he babbles, mostly lost to the sensation of Castiel’s fingers stretching him open and his mouth exploring every inch of Dean’s hot, flushed skin. Castiel seems to gather how far gone he is because after a moment his fingers are gone, quickly replaced with the blunt head of his slippery cock. 

“Tell me if I hurt you?” Castiel asks softly, brushing his fingers through Dean’s hair. Dean nods quickly, wrapping his legs around Cas’s waist. “Promise, now get in me.”

Castiel laughs, drawing Dean into a kiss as he pushes into him. Dean grunts, fingernails digging into Castiel’s shoulders. It burns, but he’s so damn close to coming that he doesn’t even care. He takes another breath, easing the burn a bit, and pulls Cas into another kiss. God, he could do this all day. Honestly, if they didn’t have other things to do, he just might. He adds that to the list of things he wants to try with Cas at some point, making a mental note to actually write that list down and give it to Cas sometime.

“Okay?” Castiel asks softly, kissing down Dean’s neck.

“Mmhm, fuck… so good, Cas,” he manages to reply, somewhat breathless as he finally bottoms out. “Can’t fuckin’ believe we could’ve been doing this all along,” he mutters, somewhat petulantly. Castiel laughs.

“Yes, well, hindsight is twenty-twenty, as they say. But we get to do it now.”

Dean hums, grinding against Castiel just a little bit. “Damn right we do. Several times tonight, at least, if I get my way,” he says with a smirk, though it quickly turns to a gasp when Castiel pumps his hips a little. 

“It would be my absolute honor to take you apart all night long, Dean,” Castiel purrs, fucking purrs, and Dean thinks he could die of happiness right here. Wouldn’t be a bad way to go, given all the ways he thought he’d die. 

“Too much talking, not enough fucking,” he gasps out instead, shivering when Castiel laughs. He expects some witty remark in return, but instead, Castiel just sits up and grabs Dean’s hips, pulling him into every thrust as he finds his rhythm. It’s punishing, and Dean’s almost certain he’s forgotten how to breathe, simply with the sight of Cas above him like his, hair a mess and a dark burn in his eyes. 

“I want to hear you when you come for me, Dean. I want to hear every moan, every stutter in your breath, every curse. I want it.”

Dean gasps, eyes fluttering closed as Castiel’s words sink in. He considers being a brat for a moment, but only a moment, before he realizes he’d much rather give Castiel what he wants. 

It doesn’t take long before he’s teetering on the edge of an orgasm, his grunts and muttered curses only seeming to spur Cas on. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think the man still had the stamina of an angel, with how relentless his thrusts have been.

“C-Cas, fuck, I can’t… I’m gonna…” he manages to choke out, eyes squeezing shut as Castiel’s warm hand wraps around his cock. It only takes a few rough strokes before he’s completely gone, boneless as he comes over his own stomach. Castiel’s not far behind though, his hips slamming into Dean’s a few more times before he spills white hot inside Dean, his shaky breaths the only thing still grounding Dean to this reality. 

They stay like that for a couple of minutes, catching their breath and blinking hazily at each other. Dean cracks first, a lazy grin on his lips as he pulls Castiel into a kiss.

“We really should have been doing that for the last decade.”

Castiel laughs and, yeah, that really is the best sound in the world.

#destiel #destiel fanfic #supernatural #my writing #kinktober 2023

[safetycar-restart]

KINKTOBER DAY 24: NUDES

(My sub wanted more sugar baby Pierre and I am a simp, so therefore I do what is required of me)

When you entered into the arrangement with Pierre, nudes were never a part of it. You provided him with a monthly allowance, countless gifs and paid him for any time he spent with you.

But nudes? Nudes were never something you discussed.

And for the first few weeks he never sent any. But then he got to know you and he…. Well he became rather obsessed and horny with his sugar mommy.

Which is why you start being sent nudes.

Because well…. He’s horny and you aren’t with him! It doesn’t matter that he’s not getting paid for sending you nudes, he wants to send them. He’s unbearably horny and obviously that’s your problem.

You actually have to be careful about opening Pierre’s messages in public, because there’s always a chance that it will be a nude. In fact it’s almost always a nude.

You’ve told him multiple times that he doesn’t have to, that you’re completely fine with that not happening. But Pierre loves it. (Mostly because he loves knowing that he’s distracting you from work).

One day you had to cancel on getting dinner with Pierre because of a work emergency. You told him that you’d still pay him like he had gone for dinner, because you’re the one that had to cancel.

You thought Pierre would be happy about it, he gets a free evening and he gets paid.

But your sugar baby was absolutely NOT happy about it, not at all. He was looking forward to that dinner all week, had been debating his outfit the entire week and dreaming about how hard he’d get fucked that night, already thinking of ways to convince you to let him spend the night so he can cuddle you all night and be hand fed breakfast in the morning.

But then you cancelled.

He was not pleased.

And he lets you now about his dissatisfaction through sending you nudes the entire evening.

Every single time you look at your phone, there’s a new nude. He sends you countless pictures of him bouncing on dildos, gripping his cock, with a plug in his ass, choking himself, etc.

You can barely handle the work emergency because Pierre is just constant. So you switch your phone off.

And then…. Then the little fucker starts emailing you nudes.

#kinktober tag #nsfw. #sub!pierre #pg #gn!reader #sugar baby!au #sugar baby!pierre

[cupajoscafe]

WHATS UP FUCKERS HAPPY OCTOBER YALL KNOW WHAT TIME IT IS 😈😈😈

Here’s day 1 of Kinktober 2021!! You can check out the full version on my Twitter, drop it some love over there if you like it!! 💜💜 I have 11/31 days sketched out, and I’ve posted the first 10 up on my Patreon already!! If you’d like to see them early, plus the coloured versions when I eventually get around to cleaning some of these kinktober sketches up, pls consider supporting me over there!! It’s only $1USD and you get access to all of my art!!

ANYWAYS ENOUGH RAMBLING I HOPE YALL ARE EXCITED CAUSE I GOT LOTS OF GOOD ART READY FOR THIS MONTH 🍆🍆🍆💦💦💦

#my art #smut #naruto smut #shikamaru nara #shikamaru nara smut #shikamaru x oc #oc x shikamaru #Nara Shikamaru #nara shikamaru smut #shikamaru x oc smut #oc x shikamaru smut #oc x shikamaru nara #shikamaru nara x oc #kinktober #kinktober2021 #stuck in naruto hell #anime #nardo oc #shikayuuna

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

Kinktober 2021 Monster Fuckers Extravaganza

From October 1st until October 31st, I will be posting drabbles for this year's Kinktober celebration.

Some ground rules before we get started.

I will be tagging all my Kinktober stories as "lemon". If you are a minor DO NO INTERACT! Please, respect my blog and remember to block "lemon". I'm trying to keep this October safe and fun for everyone.

Send all request to my ask box. If it is sent as a submission or into my messages, I will not answer them.

Do not ask me if I got your request. Just assume I have I'll get to it when and if I can. If you message me multiple times asking about it, I will delete it.

If I do answer your request, please reblog and/or comment. It's just common courtesy. I'm not getting paid here. Your engagement is my payment.

And now for the fun stuff.

Step 1: Select a Character

Chose any from the following fandoms:

Star Wars (Original Trilogy, Prequel Trilogy, Sequel Trilogy, The Clone Wars, Rebels, Thrawn Trilogy, Rogue One, The Mandalorian)

Marvel/MCU

The Magnificent Seven

Star Trek: TOS/AOS

M*A*S*H

Any of My OCs

Anything else you've seen me reblog: Hammer Horror, ACD Sherlock, Good Omens, etc.

Step 2: Select Your Monster

Vampire AU

Werewolf AU

Dragon AU

Demon AU

Angel AU

Mermaid AU

Fae AU

Ghost AU

Alien AU

Shifter AU

Or any other kind of monster or supernatural being your heart desires; let's get weird

Step 3: Select a Sentence Prompt

“Are you sure? Once we start, i might not be able to stop.“

“Aw, you’re so cute when you blush like that.”

“Aw, your legs are trembling~ does it feel that good?”

“Baby, it’s cold outside.”

“Bet I can make you come without ever touching you.”

“Can you guys just fuck already?”

“Car sex looks so much easier in the movies. “

"Catch me if you can!”

“Christ, put some clothes on!”

“Cum all over my face”

“Cum for me.”

“Did I just say that out loud?”

“Did you come inside?!”

“Do you like it? I put it on just for you.”

“Do you want to kiss as bad as I do right now?”

“Don’t treat me like a princess”

“Don’t argue. Just do it.”

“Don’t cover your mouth… I like hearing you.”

“Don’t talk, just spread your legs”

“Don’t you dare to pull out.”

“Don’t you know how to knock?!”

“Fine, but… only if we go slow, okay?”

“Finish inside me, I mean it.”

“First one to cum is the loser.”

“Forget the bed… let’s do it right here.”

“Here, let me show you how to do it.”

“Home is too far away. No one’s going to see us here.”

“How long do we have?”

“I can’t wait until we’re alone. There are so many things I want to do to you right now.”

“I could watch you ride me all day.”

“I don’t care about consequences.”

“I don’t have to be inside you to make you feel good…”

“I don’t like the blindfold… I want to see you!”

“I like it when you touch me there.”

“I like your toys. Can I have them in me? ”

“I swear this was an accident!”

“I think you deserve a treat.”

“I want to see those pretty little lips wrapped around my cock.”

“I want you to fill me.”

“I wanna fuck you right up against the window.”

“If I’d known how much you liked to be watched I would’ve invited him/her/them sooner.”

“If we get caught, I’m blaming you”

“If you don’t like my teasing, then why are you moaning?”

“Is this sofa strong enough for both of us?”

“I’ll call in sick again.”

“I’ll do anything you want me to do to you, but you have to say it out loud.”

“I’m gonna marry you just for doing that.”

“I’m in heat./ I’m horny. ”

“I’m not gonna stop leaving marks till I’m sure everyone will know you’re mine.”

“I’ve been thinking about doing this all day.”

“Just sit back and let me give you a show.”

“Keep doing that, and I’ll cum in no time”

“Lay back and touch yourself. I want to watch.”

“Leave your hand there, sweetheart, it feels good.”

“Let me show you why we should stay in bed. ”

“Let’s do it in the bathroom, you can be as messy as you want.”

“Let’s sneak in and do it there.”

“Lick it. Right there.”

“Looks like someone wants to be a dad/mom.”

“Make sure I won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”

“My cum’s dripping out, let me push it back in you.”

“Oh, look who’s not wearing any underwear~”

“On all fours, right now!”

“Please tell me you got protection.”

“Please, let me taste you.”

“Please, ruin me.”

“Round 2, baby” (or any number, lol)

“Someone’s happy to see me.”

“Stop undressing me with your eyes and start using your teeth.”

“Swallow. All of it.”

“That is kinky even by my standards…”

“That position looks impossible enough, let’s try it.”

“That’s a nice way to start a day”

“That’s it, keep cumming.”

“They’re all watching the movie. They’re not even going to notice.”

“Three is not a crowd. Three is just a start.”

“WOAH- is that going to fit?”

“Were you just masturbating?”

“We’re already late… do you want to be more late?”

“We’re gonna need a bigger bed.”

“We’ve been doing it for three hours… How come you’re not tired?” (or any number, lol)

“What a nice little sound, I think I’ll bite there again.”

“What are you doing in my bed?!”

“What else are you hiding under there?”

“What if I want them to hear/see us?”

“What the fuck, that was amazing. Do it again.”

“Who cares if everyone’s watching?”

“You are better than any toy I’ve tried.”

“You look so hot when you dance.“

“You really do love drinking my cum, don’t you?”

"You saw me naked!”

“You taste so sweet/salty”

“You weren’t supposed to hear that.”

“Your head between my legs sounds good right now.”

“You’re bigger than I expected.”

“You’re cute when you’re worried.”

“You’re mine, and I don’t share.”

“You’re so cute when you’re all tied up and needy…..”

“You’re so flexible…”

“You’ve got too many clothes on.”

[Insert your own]

Step 4: Send Me My Ask Box

Please remember to specify that your ask if for Kinktober

Step 5: Profit

Happy Halloween Everybody. ;)

#kinktober 2021 #kinktober #monster fucker #lemon #star wars #marvel #mcu

[lucifers-horror-harem]

Kinktober Day 30: Somnophilia with Vincent Sinclair

*CRASHES THROUGH THE WINDOW AND EATS SHIT BEFORE STICKING THE LANDING* How do u do fellow slasher fuckers I’m almost done with Kinktober in fucking December and if that isn’t a 2020 mood then I don’t know what is so yeah asdfghgfdfg Anywho I’m thankful to everyone that has been sticking with me so far and I hope you’ll enjoy this piece as well! I also did this one kind of more through Vinny’s perspective because I find it was too fun to write for the slashers so yeee!

Vincent Sinclair x AFAB Reader

Extra warnings: Voyeurism

Vincent wasn't certain how an angel like you fell into his life, but you had and it made him feel more alive than he had ever had before, even a bit more than the wax figures themselves. You were so perfect, every inch of you a work of art. He could never understand how you would always roll your eyes at him and smile to yourself, as if you didn't believe him fully. But he did everything in his power to make you understand. And you often did. That made Vincent happy.

But then the urges began to bubble up within him again.

Not violent, per say. Never had he had violent thoughts towards you. The thoughts he had were unconventional, they made him feel dirty and ashamed. Here you were, an absolute beautiful being, and here he was lusting after you like some sort of beast. It made him feel sick to his stomach.

It started first with watching you. You hadn't noticed him the first few times as he lingered just out of sight as he watched you step out of the shower freshly washed. The way the beads of water trickled down your skin, your hair dripping as you patted it dry with a towel. Your nipples hardened from the cool air, his eyes lingering on the curve of your breasts. His face would heat terribly behind his mask as his eyes would lower to your belly, and lower still to the soft patch of hair between your legs, your pretty cunt just out of sight. You were so desirable to him, he wished to just look at how lovely you were when you were alone. To see how you carried yourself when he wasn't around. 

Eventually you had found him out. He was so distraught that he tried to run, but you simply pulled back on his arm gently as you gave him that sweet smile you always had on your face. You sat with him, sweetly alternating between squeezing his hand in reassurance and brushing your fingers through his long hair, assuring him that you didn't mind such a thing. That you liked that he watched you. The conversation somehow ended up with Vincent on his back, and you astride his lap as you whimpered softly as you took him completely. After that, you had become much more aware of his presence, even sometimes giving him a bit of a strip tease, your hands brushing innocently over your body as he hardened at the sight of you.

But then that wasn't enough after a while either. Dark urges mingled with the inky blackness of the room at night as he lay behind you, your sweet body pressed against his. Your soft expression of sleep made something pull in him. His hands would ghost over your body, afraid to touch and wake you up. He wanted to see what he could get away with. But he would always find himself slipping out of bed before he could act on such desires. They were wrong and he was disgusted with himself for having such thoughts of you. 

It wasn't long until you noticed something was bothering Vincent. After a few long nights of trying to assure him you would never be upset with him, he finally caved and decided to come clean. He wrote on a legal notepad, the one he used when he had more to say than just the simple words he was able to utter when it wasn't painful for him. He refused to let you look over his shoulder until he was finished. As you saw how his hand trembled when he handed you the note while refusing to look you in the eye, you wondered exactly what had bothered him so terribly. 

It felt like hours waiting for you to finish reading. But when you finally cleared your throat, the last thing he expected was the look on your face right now. You shyly smiled at him, and in a soft voice told him that you wouldn't mind letting him do that to you if it made him happy. Just that simple statement led into passionate lovemaking, the two of you unable to keep yourselves apart. How could he, when you were so trusting of him to allow him such access to your body in your most intimate moments? 

By the time the two of you had tired yourselves out thoroughly, you were curled up on your side beside him, breathing softly through your nose. But Vincent couldn't sleep. He had to have you again. You had given him the okay after all, and this urge of his wouldn't be satiated until he could fulfill it. 

So, for most of the night Vincent lay beside you, on his back and occasionally drifting in and out but never long enough to get any sort of real rest. When he was awake, he found himself pumping his cock in his hand, imagining how it would feel to be inside you. Would you dream of him as he sunk himself into your heat? When he was threatening to spill more than the precum that dribbled from the head of his cock, he would grip the base of his member, pulling himself back enough from the brink until he was safe again. He wouldn't waste a single drop until he was inside you. 

It wasn't much longer that he could stand the wait. Slowly he turned to his side and pushed himself over your prone form. You were still naked from your earlier lovemaking. Gently he tugged on your shoulder, rolling you onto your back as he took in your form. You stirred slightly, but still weren't pulled from sleep. He watched your chest rise and fall with each breath, your plump lips parted slightly as you slept. 

You were a work of art laid before him, and he could only stare for so long before he had to touch. He settled between your thighs, softly coaxing your body into the position he needed you. His member was painfully swollen from the edging, and he wasn't sure if he would simply cum as soon as he slid inside of you or not. But he didn’t care, he needed this. Needed you.

Butterflies fluttered vigorously in the pit of his stomach as he very carefully sunk inside of you. He did everything in his power to hold himself back, but it was more difficult than he imagined. Your breath hitched at him simply entering you, your walls still coated with his cum from earlier. His hands held your thighs reverently, afraid to do more than simply watch you.

But then it happened. Your voice still full of sleep, eyes not even open as you whispered, “Vinny” into the night. You were dreaming about him. 

He couldn’t hold back the harsh thrusts as he took from you what he desperately needed. Vincent was usually quiet during moments like this, but the sound of his own throaty unused voice made him shiver. Moans and grunts and growls emanated from behind his mask as he pound into you. He didn’t care that you would be awoken by him at this rate. As soon as you were keening underneath him, your hands gripping the bed sheets as you were used for Vincent’s pleasure. You couldn’t help how your cunt clenched around his member, milking him as you found yourself gushing around him. When he rested himself over top of you, he was surprised to feel your heels dig into the back of his legs as you wrapped your thighs around him.

“More, please Vinny, don’t stop,” you whined out to him, your hands tangled through his long hair as you canted your hips up to meet him. Vincent thought he wouldn’t be able to go another round with the amount of build up he had just pumped inside of you, but just those simple words began to get to him, his body preparing itself for when he would take you again that night.

#vincent sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair #slasher x reader #house of wax

[tothemeadow]

Masterlist (Kamaboko Squad)

Kamado Tanjiro

Scenarios

Coming Home

you feel nervous about meeting Tanjiro’s family for the first time (GN)

Attention 

Tanjiro wants to confess his feelings to you, but your attention is always on someone else (female)

Catch Your Breath

your breathing problems make it hard to train properly (GN)

We are One

a special tree for a special couple (GN) [50 Follower Special Prompt]

My Hero

you and Tanjiro share a sweet moment in the middle of a corn field (GN) [50 Follower Special Prompt]

Just Keep Breathing

you have an asthma attack while battling a demon (female)

Smile for the Camera

Kinktober Day 5: you film your sweet baby boy (female) [NSFW]

Peek-a-Boo

Kinktober Day 6: somebody watches you and Tanjiro getting intimate (female) [NSFW]

How Many Times?

Kinktober Day 7: you challenge yourself as to how many times you can make Tanjiro c*m (female) [NSFW]

Submit

Kinktober Day 7: Tanjiro really likes it when you take charge (female) [NSFW]

Just a Little Game / part two 

Tanjiro’s just so easy to tease (female) [spicy] / part two: [NSFW]

Cherry Pop

you give Tanjiro the good ol’ strap (female) [NSFW]

I Feel For You

When the days seem gloomy and Hayami’s obviously stuck in a rut, Tanjiro decides it’s on him to make her feel better, but with secret little notes... (female OC) [COMMISSION]

Sweet Child of Mine

Tanjiro with an impregnation kink 🤭(female) [NSFW]

Make Your Dreams a Reality

Tanjiro has a wet dream about you and decides to take care of things (GN) [NSFW]

Beg for Forgiveness

You’ve been such a naughty brat, haven’t you? Too bad Mommy and Daddy don’t plan on being easy on you… (female) [NSFW, COMMISSION]

Tasty, Candy-Covered Lady

you slip Tanjiro an aphrodisiac (female) [somewhat spicy]

Lucent

you’re pregnant with Tanjiro’s child and he’s just a bit too excited (female) [NSFW]

Headcanons

General Kamaboko Squad HCs

(self-explanatory)

You Smell Good

(self-explanatory) (GN)

A Comforting Boy

how Tanjiro comforts you whenever you suffer from a panic attack (GN)

Tanjiro with a short S/O

you’re really fucking tiny (GN)

Role Reversal

what would it be like if Tanjiro and Nezuko’s roles were switched?

Reactions

Walking in on their Crush Changing

(self-explanatory) (female)

When Everything Comes Crashing Down

how Tanjiro reacts to his s/o squirting (female) [NSFW]

Agatsuma Zenitsu

Scenarios

Late in the Night

Zenitsu expresses his love for you in the wee hours of the night (male)

Your Tummy is Cute

you have a very soft tummy and you’re insecure about it (GN)

Hold On

Zenitsu just wants to hold you on an autumn’s day (GN) [50 Follower Special Prompt]

Cries in the Night

Kinktober Day 5: even though Zenitsu can be bad, you find it in your heart to forgive him - maybe (female) [NSFW]

You’re Human to Me

Even after Momo has turned into a demon, Zenitsu still sees her as the wonderful human being she once was. (female OC) [slight NSFW]

Until I See Stars

you peg Zenitsu until he passes out (female) [NSFW]

Headcanons

General Kamaboko Squad HCs

(self-explanatory)

Falling Leaves, Rising Hearts

some autumn HCs for Zenitsu (GN) [50 Follower Special Prompt]

You Can Call Me Monster

some NSFW demon Zenitsu HCs

Reactions

Walking in on their Crush Changing

(self-explanatory) (female)

Hashibira Inosuke

Scenarios

Little Piggy

you snuggle with Insouke. teasing ensues (GN) [50 Follower Special Prompt]

Hungry like the Wolf

Inosuke is dying to have a taste of you (female) [NSFW]

Hold Me

after you come home from a mission, you’re just so happy to see Inosuke (GN)

Milky

Muichiro and Inosuke are your special boys who love your breasts and everything that comes with them (female) [NSFW]

Of Cream and Lace

Muichiro and Inosuke in pretty dresses and panties. That’s it. (female) [NSFW]

Cleanup in Aisle Four

during a shopping trip, Muichiro and Inosuke get a bit restless due to the toys you put them (female) [NSFW]

Headcanons

General Kamaboko Squad HCs

(self-explanatory)

Fall like Leaf

some Inosuke autumn HCs [50 Follower Special Prompt]

Bratty Inosuke

Kinktober Day 7: you completely dominant Inosuke’s ass (female) [NSFW]

This Fucker Bites (Non-Boar Inosuke)

Inosuke is half shark/half chihuahua instead [crack]

Sub Inosuke HCs

(self-explanatory) [NSFW]

Reactions

Walking in on their Crush Changing

(self-explanatory) (female)

Kamado Nezuko

Scenarios

This is currently empty!

Headcanons

Demon Dating

some relationship HCs (female)

Role Reversal

what would it be like if Tanjiro and Nezuko’s roles were switched?

Shinazugawa Genya

Scenarios

Lavender

you surprise Genya in a very special dress (female)

Sweetheart

Kinktober Day 7: Genya’s such a sweetie, even as a demon (female) [NSFW]

Choke on Your Breath, Pretty Boy

you overstimulate Genya until he’s a crying mess (GN) [NSFW]

Netflix and Chill

things get spicy during a movie date (female) [NSFW]

Headcanons

Fluffy Genya HCs

basically your experience with him during the Final Selection and how he matures after (GN)

Valentine’s w/ Genya

blushy boi being blushy (female/GN)

Receiving Flowers

you give him flowers uwu

Tsuyuri Kanao

Scenarios

Softer than Butterfly’s Wings

your heart flutters whenever you’re around Kanao (male)

Beg for Forgiveness

You’ve been such a naughty brat, haven’t you? Too bad Mommy and Daddy don’t plan on being easy on you… (female) [NSFW, COMMISSION]

Headcanons

This is currently empty!

#kny #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #kny x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #demon slayer x reader #kamado tanjiro #agatsuma zentisu #hashibira inosuke #shinazugawa genya #tsuyuri kanao #tothemeadow masterlist

[connorandersons-blog]

Kinktober Day 6: Erotic Dancing, Convin

yay for more Connor/Gavin!!

-------------------------------

They were to investigate an android sex ring. What had been confusing at first was why the androids seemed to go willingly with the humans even knowing the risks and what was happening. 

It had been Hank that pointed it out. Androids didn't have money and most didn't have a human willing to take care of them. Jobs were limited already and most companies didn't want to hire androids after what had happened, so plenty of androids were desperate enough. 

Now Connor had to play that part. The first choice to go with him was Hank. He trusted the man more than anyone else, but Connor knew it would set him on edge knowing what Connor would need to do. Not to mention that Hank would need to seem interested in Connor and neither liked that idea. 

Connor had no problem doing what needed to be done. He was made with all parts available including genitals, so he could do this to the full extent if need be. Hank had thrown a fit at that, but Connor calmed him by saying he most likely wouldn't even need to consider it. 

All Connor needed to do was pretend to be an android needing money and willing to do anything and then he'd be taken to the back to be prepared. He'd dance until someone-whoever he was working with-became interested. All they needed was that person talking about buying Connor. 

He knew a few android memories had been wiped after being bought, but Connor had a feeling that was left up to the buyer.

Then it was just the matter of who would be going in with Connor. They'd have backup waiting outside but inside it would be Connor and his buyer. 

Fowler had been the one to pick Gavin Reed of all people. Connor could admit the man was good at his job, and he trusted him to not give themselves away, but that didn't mean Connor was happy about it. The man was abrasive at best and downright racist at worst. 

Connor had noted every slur Reed had thrown at him, but from that, he also noted that the amount had slowly decreased over the year Connor had continued to work at the DPD. That didn't mean Connor didn't despise the man.

Despise was a stronger word than in reality, but Connor had made sure his other emotions regarding Reed were pushed down. Way down. 

Getting into the cub had actually been easy, and they didn't really question him, just stuck him in an outfit, and told him the rules. He was to go as far as the human wanted, and 75% of the money went to the ring. 

Connor assured them he could dance, he could do anything they needed, and the manager gave a nod before telling him to start on a raised platform with a pole. He didn't need to do anything too crazy, just dance and try to get someone's attention. 

Connor was out in an angels costume which he found highly amusing considering what he was supposed to do. If a customer wanted, they could fully buy Connor off the ring but for the most part, it was only one-nights or up to a month. He wondered what Reed would go for. 

He stood on the platform and scanned the room as he moved to the music. The bass was heavy enough that he could feel it rattling his chest and the pole that spun slowly. 

He found Reed in the crowd and sent him a wink before he pulled himself up onto the pole, spreading his legs into a perfect split before slowly sliding down. Then he wrapped his legs around it, popping his ass out then standing back up. 

'Stop showing off, we don't want anyone else to actually buy you.' Gavin's message was sent straight to him, and Connor did a small twirl before dropping and making eye contact. 

'Aw, you want me all for yourself?' he teased and chuckled when he saw Gavin's face flush in the dark room. 

'No! Don't want a fucking plastic.' 

Connor chuckled and pulled himself back up, letting himself stumble for a second. 'Better?' 

'No. You're still doing too well.' Reed scowled at him before remembering he was supposed to look interested. 

Connor raised an eyebrow at that. If he was doing well that meant Gavin-no, Reed-was at least somewhat affected by Connor. He'd keep that information to himself for now. 

He gave a small shake that looked far too uncoordinated and he could just faintly hear, over the music and talking, a laugh. 'Rude.' He sent. 

'You look like a toddler trying to dance.' He turned his head back and glared at Gavin who subtly flipped him off. 

Connor's eyes went wide as two men started to be making their way to Gavin. 'Two men, 7 o'clock, big.' 

Gavin looked at the message before pocketing his phone and pushing closer to Connor's. One of the men grabbed Gavin's shoulder and Connor grit his teeth but continued attempting to dance badly. 

They didn't need to see that he knew Reed or felt the need to protect him. He may be a dick but Connor knew he'd have his back if it came to it, and Connor would do the same in return. 

Connor danced for what felt like hours until he saw the two men leave back towards the bar, then slipping into a door. 

'Fuckers are part of this thing and was asking what kind I liked. They aren't even trying to hide this shit.'

Connor sighed in relief that they hadn't been caught and Reed hadn't been harmed. He dropped into a split and bounced slightly, looking over his shoulder. 

Reed had finally made it to his platform and reached out and pushed a five into his very tiny and tight shorts. Connor blew him a kiss before scrambling to get up not-so gracefully.

"You for sale?" Reed called up, leaning into the platform. Connor rolled his body against the pole and felt somewhat flustered that everyone could see most of him. The shorts didn't really hide anything, and it wasn't like he was small either. At least Gavin looked just as flustered at that sight as Connor was.

"No." He snapped before grimacing. He had to play the part of an android not wanting to be treated as property again but desperate enough to do it anyway. "Ah, actually I may be. Would you like a dance?" 

He went down into a middle split and leaned forward, resting his head in his hands. 

Reed shifted and looked around before back to Connor. "Maybe, how much do you cost?" 

Connor pretended to think, flexing his legs just slightly. "Twenty for an at a table dance, but there are private rooms too." 

Reed nodded and pulled out a twenty, handing it over. No doubt he'd be reimbursed for all the money he was going to be spending on Connor. 

Connor hopped off the stage and it only took a second before an android woman took his place. So this ring had more than enough androids for these jobs, fuck. 

Connor circled Reed, letting his hand brush against him. He wore his normal day clothes considering it wasn't too odd from the normal in this club. When he got back around he took the collar of Reed's shirt and gently pulled him to a seat before pushing him down on it. 

Casually, almost lethargically, he swayed, in front of Reed, running his hands up and down his own body. His hips moved suggestively, as he looked into Reed's eyes. In slow motion he approached, licking his lips. He could see Reed gulp and his hands tightened on the seat's armrest, knuckles turning white. 

He could feel the heat of Reed's body, as he placed his legs on either side of him, straddling Reed. He looked into his eyes, while his hands caressed Reed's neck, and shoulders. Smilingly, he teasingly rocked his hips.

Turning his back, positioned squarely above his lap he squat quickly up and down, bouncing on his lap without ever making full contact with his groin. Would Reed get turned on by this? He could hear his breath quickening and the hands seemed to be deciding whether or not to keep his hands there.

Connor stood up, turned to face him, with a mischievous glint in his eyes, as he resumed the teasing. His bottom rocked back and forth first against Reed's thighs then graduating upwards. He rhythmically ground his hips against Reed. And he could actually feel him. He was most definitely affected by this and Connor reached up to run his hands through Gavin's hair before leaning forward, lips brushing against his cheek then ear. 

"Am I still doing too well?" He whispered, fully grinding down onto Reed's lap now. 

"Fuck. Off." Gavin ground out. Connor shrugged and hopped off, he turned to walk away but strong, warm hands grabbed him by his hips and pulled him back down. 

Connor gave a small yelp and made sure not to fall too heavily onto Reed's lap. "Ah! Thought you told me to fuck off." He glanced back at him, their faces closer than before. It was a really good thing Hank wasn't in here. 

"Haven't gotten my twenty dollars worth, and I might want to play with you a bit more. Said there were private rooms?" Gavin pulled Connor closer as he ground his dick up into Connor's ass. 

He let out a surprised whine and tilted his head back. 

'Shit, Con you ok?' Hank's message had him flushing a deeper blue. He had forgotten that the backup would be able to hear everything. 

'I'm fine, simply playing my role.' That whine hadn't been intentional in the least but it wasn't like he could take it back now.

He jolted back to the present when Gavin's hands slid from his wait to up his chest. "You didn't answer me." 

Connor nodded and circled his hips, trying to get back in control. "I was thinking about a friend of mine. You aren't nearly as distracting as you think you are. But yes, there are private rooms where we can do whatever you want." 

Gavin thankfully understood the message and nodded his head, pulling Connor close so he could whisper in his ear. "Sorry Anderson, you'll have your android later." 

Connor growled and glared at Gavin. He was still being a dick and Connor had made it explicitly clear he saw Hank more as a father figure than anything else. He reached down and pinched the inside of Gavin's thigh and felt beyond satisfied when he yelped and tightened his hold on Connor. 

"Bitch." 

"You deserved that. Now be good and buy us a room." He moved off of Gavin and cocked his hip, putting a hand on it. 

Gavin took a few deep breaths before standing and having to adjust his pants. Connor watched with a smirk but didn't say anything as Reed went to pay. 

Connor stood there, letting himself calm down. He was tempted to turn his own arousal reactions, but he wanted to see what would happen. 

He jumped when he felt two hands grope him, and his skin started to crawl. He could smell alcohol on the man's breath as he pushed against Connor's back. 

"You pretty, little thing. Could break you so easily and you'd beg for it, wouldn't ya?" The man asked and Connor tried to loosen up. He knew this would happen. He knew there was a chance more than just Gavin would show interest. He really had shown off far too much. 

"Ah! Well, I wouldn't mind all too much but I'm afraid I'm already paid for, but after? I'd love to see what you can do." He spun around and placed his hands on the man's chest. And he was fucking huge. Not in the fat way, but he was just huge and heavily muscled. He probably could break Connor in half and it made him shiver in fear. If he paid enough this man could do anything he wanted to Connor. 

The man hummed and looked him over. "You do look so good. A beautiful angel." 

Connor chuckled and ducked his head, fluttering his eyelashes. "Ah, are you a devil then? Are you going to tempt me to the other side?" Fuck he really hated how this man groped him but he didn't pull away. He needed to show that he was willing to do this with anyone.

"I can make you such a naughty boy." The man sneered and Connor had to do everything to not shrink back. 

But then he saw Gavin stalking over with death in his eyes. "Excuse me, but he's mine for the next hour." Gavin growled out. 

Connor flashed up a grateful smiling before slowly moving back, using a bit of extra force than needed. "Maybe I'll see you later… daddy." God, he was going to be sick. If he ever called another man that he did not know that, he'd self-destruct. 

Gavin grabbed him by his arm and yanked him close, easily moving them to the private rooms. 

There weren't any actual doors but instead floor to ceiling curtains. So they couldn't just sit there and wait, not that he had planned on that in the first place. 

He could hear two people going at it and the other room they were certainly close to it too. So they'd need to do the same thing. At least it didn't seem there would be cameras in the rooms, but a few security guards were waiting just in case.

Connor pushed him off and into the room, following after, sending a wink to a guard before closing the curtains. 

Connor turned back to Gavin and looked around the room. There were constable chairs but also a large couch. In the center of the room was a pole Connor could use if wanted. The lights were dimmed just enough and warm red lights hung on the walls. 

Gavin stood there, looking around as well, but Connor could tell he was nervous. They'd either actually have to do this or make it damn convincing. 

"So, what would you like?" Connor asked, not trying to be loud enough to hear but not soft enough to be suspicious. "I can do anything you want, I'll be good for you." He tried to sound desperate for money more than anything else. 

Gavin's eyebrows shot up but he looked around again before deciding to sit on the couch, letting his legs spread a bit. "Maybe dance a bit more, continue where we left off.." 

When Connor finally reaches him, his fingers threading through Gavin's hair send a wave of nervous vibrations down his spine. His other hand rests against Gavin's shoulder, bracing himself as he raises a knee and presses it between Gavin's spread thighs. The music lulls and fades away, and for a moment that feels like an eternity, they’re sitting still—the only sound booming in Connor's ears, their labored breathing, and Gavin's heartbeat thundering inside of his chest.

Gavin's hand twitched, almost reaching out before he remembered himself.

"You can touch." Connor whispered, grabbing one of Gavin's hands and placed it on his own ass. Gavin gave it a slight squeeze then a stronger one, fingers digging into the white latex with golden sparkles. Connor hummed and gently tugged on Gavin's hair, pulling his head to the side to get easy access to his neck. "Tell me to stop and I will." Connor mumbled before brushing his lips against Gavin's throat.

Gavin gasped and pulled Connor into his lap, down using both hands to hold Connor's ass. "Don't you dare fucking stop." 

'i hate this' Connor rolled his eyes at Hank's message but only felt somewhat guilty. 

'Sorry, plug your ears?' There was more than just Hank listening but honestly, he was the only one he truly cared about to not listen.

He tipped his head back to press hot kisses to Gavin's throat, painting a wet trail to his mouth. Gavin's fingers smooth up and down Connor's spine, then dip down to cup his ass and squeeze again. 

Connor was grinding his crotch to his, and Gavin bit his lip until it bled because it was all he could do to avoid coming in his pants. Connor smirked and pulled his lips away to look at the man fully. "Hm, want me to keep this up? I can do a whole lot more." 

Gavin moved his hands up off his ass and Connor huffed but made a pleased whine when the hands dipped under the shorts to grab at him again, fingers exploring. "God, this is not fair." Gavin mumbled but then leaned forward to bite and lick at Connor's neck. His back arched into it, hips grinding down again.

Gavin kept him close to him, bucking his hips up in time with Connor's. "Con," he groaned, head falling back. 

Connor was thrilled at the reactions he was getting, wanting so much more. His hand gripped Gavin's neck by his nape, fingers over the soft hairs at the base of his skull as he directed their lips to each other. The other hand gripped his waist firmly so he would stop moving, and grinding up into him. He could easily imagine that dick fucking into him as he sat on him. 

Or he could take him back out into the club and push him against the wall. Let everyone see as Connor would shove his hand down Gavin's pants and bring him to completion where everyone could see the effect he had on him. That he was affecting Gavin this much. 

"Fuck me." Connor demanded standing up to unzip Gavin's pants. "I don't need prep." 

Gavin's eyes were wide but he quickly shimmied out of his pants and underwear along with his shirt, tossing them to the side. Connor slid his shorts off, straddling over Gavin, making sure they were in the right before sinking down with a sigh of relief. 

He started to move his hips, unhurriedly, trying to make this last longer. Gavin moaned and grabbed his waist but Connor didn't stop. "Fuck yes! God, you fill me up so well." 

Gavin moaned again and tried to buck his hips up, but Connor glared at him. "Let me!"

"No, I'm in charge right now. I'm going to fuck myself on you and you're gonna sit there and be a good boy." He snapped and sank down again, his back arching beautifully. 

Gavin cursed under his breath but didn't fight it, his hands sliding back around to grab Connor's ass. "You're too damn pretty, fucking hell. The way you move should be illegal." 

Connor smirked and held himself up for a second longer just to tease before dropping back down with a whine. The friction felt so good and he took himself in hand, stroking lazily. "Hm, is that what you want? Want to cuff me for being naughty then fuck me over the table? I might just let you." 

Gavin's pupils were blown wide and he gaped for a second, and Connor let him knowing everything he was imagining. "Yes, god even then you'd still be a little shit." 

Connor huffed and leaned forward to bite a bit more harshly at Gavin's neck. The man whimpered and squeezed his eyes shut trying not to come. Connor licked over where the bruise would definitely form before tossing his head back, finally finding the right spot. 

"Yes! Ah, there, right there." He mumbled. It didn’t take long for his hips to snap down quickly, slapping sound filling the room, ragged breaths, and one hand on Gavin's chest for support. His legs shook gently, not from exhaustion but from want. 

Every time he thrust down Gavin would push up, aching to feel as much of him as he could. Connor leaned forward and kissed Gavin deeply, and Gavin kissed him back greedily. Their hot breath mingled together as they came in for another wet kiss, soft moans escaping both their mouths as their lips joined.

Before long, Connor broke away. “I’m gonna-- ahh shit! I’m gonna come, Gavin. Please don't stop.” 

“Look at me, I wanna see you when you come.” Gavin gave a firm squeeze to Connor's ass, fucking up into him, trying to get deeper with each thrust.

With a few more thrusts, Connor let out a loud unrestrained moan. His eyes were shut tight, and his mouth open and agape as he came over both their chests. Yet he kept bouncing, squeezing around Gavin. "Gavin! Fuck, come on. Come in me, I want you to fill me up. I want to be dripping." Connor growled and Gavin would only nod, yanking Connor completely down. 

His whole body shuttered with the force of it but Connor took it all with a soft whine. God if only he had a plug to keep it there the rest of the night. Then he'd go home and get to play with himself again, maybe even show Gavin what he looked like open and wanting on his bed. 

Connor sat there for a minute letting both of them calm somewhat. He could feel Gavin's heart pounding, arms just loosely holding onto Connor and pressing quick soft kisses over Connor's warm skin. 

"Our time is almost up." Connor murmured, eyes lidded as he looked down at him. This was probably all he'd get from Gavin even if he had fantasized about how to tear him about slowly. Yet he always felt ashamed and even guilty especially when he went in the next day and Gavin was there. It wasn't even their fights and arguments that sparked a flame in him, I mean sure those were nice too and made their own fantasies, but this was different.

"Shit." Gavin grumbled, letting his head rest against Connor's shoulder and closing his eyes. "Oh fuck everyone heard that." 

Connor hummed and checked over his connection which was still very much active yet no one had said a thing. "I don't think they minded, plus I told Hank to not listen." 

Speaking of, he'd need to inform the man that it was safe to put the headphones back on. Yet he wanted to have this conversation in a somewhat private sense so he'd wait just a bit longer.

"Fuck, uh thanks. God, that really happened. And you're really pushy and needy." Gavin chuckled and looked up. Connor huffed and crossed his arms but the fact that he hadn't gotten up really wasn't helping. "In a good way! Obviously, I liked it, but yeah. Maybe I can see more of you, see what sides of you I can bring out, later?" 

Connor knew an invitation when he heard one, and this was definitely it. Gavin wanted to see him again, like this. Not exactly like this, most likely more private, but he wanted more. Even if he hadn't been emotionally connected and interested, he'd be loathed to pass this up. Gavin was by far one of the best fucks he's had in a while. 

He wiggled his hips just slightly and Gavin hissed but Connor smirked. "I'd like that, but I will warn you, I'm insatiable. I don't have to wait very long to get going again, think you can keep up?" 

He knew humans would have close to impossible chances of truly keeping up, but as long as Gavin could pleasure him even when he needed a moment then that was fine. 

Gavin hissed again and tried to glare at Connor's smirking face. "Fuck you, I'll have you a complete mess and begging me to stop because it's too much." 

Connor raised an eyebrow and stood slightly only to drop back down. Gavin cursed and grabbed his hips, trying to keep him still. "I think the one begging will be you-" he leaned in close to whisper into his ear-"Detective." 

He stood completely up and off, looking around and finding a few towels and washcloths under the seat. Thank God the club came (heh) prepared. He grabbed a washcloth and started to clean himself up, wiggling his hips as he felt the come in him. He let his hand trail back and pushed a finger in before pulling it out and glancing over at Gavin. The man was staring at him wide-eyed as Connor popped the finger into his mouth.

He pulled it out and licked his lips before crouching in front of Gavin and licking up his own mess and Gavin's dick. Once he was done he patted Gavin dry and smirked once more at him. He was gripping the seat so hard his knuckles were white. "Maybe you'll get to see what my mouth can do later, but for now I want you to buy me." Connor slid on his tiny shorts and made sure everything was in place before strutting out of the room, not even bothering to close the curtains behind him.

Gavin was left gaping before he quickly pulled his clothes back on, trying not to meet the club's guard's eyes and he quickly walked out of the room. 

Thankfully the two managed to bring the whole thing down, and Connor did later show Gavin exactly how good he was with his mouth.

#kinktober #Connor Anderson #dbh convin #convin dbh #convin fic #Convin #gavin reed #gavin800 #connor x gavin #dbh gavin reed #detroit gavin #reed800 #gavin reed x connor #connor x gavin reed #rk800 #connor rk800 #RK800 Connor #detroit become human rk800 #rk800connor #dbh fanfic #dbh fandom #dbh fic #connor dbh fanfic #DBH #detroit connor #Detroit: BH #detroit: become human

[touchmycoat]

kinktober: day 7

I am LATE. Working on the Marco-centric piece and got all the fragments. Just shifting them around until they do what I want ;; So here’s another cop-out fic (but I’m genuinely wanting to develop this into a stupid romcom situation)

References @watermelon-chan‘s BEAUTIFUL fuckable!Marco design

Day 7: massage

Ace’s moans of pleasure got quickly out of hand. And, Sabo thought incredulously, checking the clock on his phone, it’s been all of five minutes.

“Here?”

“Yeah, yeah that’s g—Oh, motherFUCKER—”

“Alright.” Sabo punctuated his interruption with a loud slam of the backroom door. “That’s enough.”

“Something wrong?” the massage therapist—goddamn Marlboro or whatever the fuck his name was—had the audacity to ask, all innocent-like.

“Sabo,” Ace grunted into the hole in the bed, where his face was no doubt distended stupidly like the stupid fucker he was. “You’ve gotta give Marco a go. His hands are magical.”

“This is a place of business,” Sabo hissed, channeling all his rage and stress and something fucking else at the only righteous cause on hand. He jabbed a finger in Mobert's direction. “Tone it down.”

“Me?” The guy was just a massage therapist, not a surgeon like he was all pretending to be, holding his hands up like that, glistening with oil. At least they were off of Ace's body now, which was absolutely what mattered. “Shall I just do my job less well then yoi?”

“Don't you dare!” came Ace's protest, the bloody traitor. He hadn't even bothered lifting his face from the pillow. “Put your hands back right now!”

“I think your boyfriend's gonna rip my hands off if I do,” Medward drawled, fixing Sabo with a flat, unimpressed look. That, flatteringly, was what got Ace's head up.

“He's my agent.” Oh how Sabo loved it when Ace corrected strangers so vehemently about the nature of their relationship. It would really convince any stranger that Ace had nothing but absolutely platonic feelings for Sabo. That was Ace—the best MMA fighter in the country and a phenomenal actor. It could break Sabo's heart. “Not my boyfriend.”

Whatever Sabo's expression was giving away, Marrison had the actual audacity to look sorry for Sabo, hands still hovering. Sabo quickly schooled his face into something more appropriate for the situation; that is, a cool snarl for the massage therapist, whose expression morphed immediately back to unimpressed.

“C'mon Sabo,” Ace was beginning to whine. Sabo busied himself with staring Monathan down instead of meeting those eyes turned big and beseeching. “We only have him booked for half an hour. And my shoulder actually still kinda hurts.”

The massage must've been really damn good, if Ace was pulling out the big guns already to get Sabo to capitulate. And capitulate Sabo did, clenching his fists so he didn't flip off fucking Mephistopheles over there with the trendy haircut and stupidly buff forearms. That'd be unprofessional, and definitely grounds for a bad Yelp review—Koala and Nami would absolutely kill him.

“Fine,” he said through gritted teeth. Mamanda looked immediately smug, until Sabo yanked one of the chairs lining the side of the room forward, slamming himself down onto it with vicious abandon. “But I'm staying.”

“Wha—”

“Sure!”

Mister Forearms-with-the-Trimmed-Beard looked down at the back of Ace's head, mouth agape.

“Wouldn't you be more relaxed with your agent not in the room yoi?” he tried to coax.

“Nah, Sabo's great,” Ace hummed happily, with all the cheeriness of a man who thought every problem was uncomplicatedly resolved. “We're good in here.”

“I—”

“What's wrong?” Sabo goaded, “performance issues with an audience?”

“I am a professional,” Mantucket breathed, brows all furrowed and his big masculine face looking all serious as he started kneading at Ace's back again. Little happy huffs of pleasure were already coming from the direction of Ace's head. “I don't need a chaperone yoi.”

Especially not one as belligerent as you. Sabo heard that loud and clear.

“Professional,” Sabo snorted. “Is that what you call being fully erect since you walked in?”

“Sabo—!”

“Okay, I've had enough.”

Massage therapist was across the room in the space of a blink, wiping his hands clean on a towel and hoisting his bag up at the same time with motions of controlled fury. Ace, scrambling upright, was glaring at Sabo too (but not before, Sabo noted with satisfaction, guiltily eyeing the front of Micycle's pants, where of course there was no inappropriate sign of sexual attraction that Sabo was sure the douchebag felt toward Ace, because who wouldn't).

“Marco, wait—” Clearly realizing that this wasn't something that could be resolved in the moment (not unless Sabo did something drastic and completely unnecessary, like apologize), Ace sighed awkwardly and scratched the back of his head. “I really am sorry. Um, I'll stay in touch?”

“Figuratively speaking,” Sabo couldn't help but add, inspiring a loud scoff of incredulity from Marco the Massage Therapist, the damn bastard who had to come in and be good at his job and get all those noises out of Ace all while looking like that. Never mind Sabo had called him first. Asshole had it coming.

Ace flung a towel at Sabo's face, and Sabo didn't dodge it. Out of respect for Ace.

“If I pick up the phone and he's on the other end, that's it yoi,” Marco warned Ace, standing at the door. “I'll speak to you as my patient. That's it.”

“...Okay, thank you for your time today!” Ace called weakly, as Marco's back (and what a stupidly thin shirt he was wearing) retreated down the hallway. His smile dropped away, the moment Marco was out of sight. “Great. Sabo. You dick.”

“I was protecting your virtue from an obvious creep, you're welcome.”

“Creep—you're crazy! Okay, fine, maybe I shouldn't have been yelling so loud, but he's honestly, really, truly the best one you've ever hired! That knot that's bothered me for ages? He got it out in seconds!” With a deep and beleaguered sigh, Ace flopped back onto the bed, torso still bare and vaguely glistening with oil. Sabo swallowed. “Great. Now I'll never get a good massage again for as long as I live.”

“You're such a drama queen.” And because Sabo loved Ace, he let the appropriate amount of irony suffuse his tone, getting a little chuckle in response. “Hand it here then.”

A quirked eyebrow. “What?”

“The massage oil.” Cracking his knuckles, Sabo approached the massage table, trying to examine Ace's toned body with a critical eye, not the eyes of some jerk inappropriately lusting after a man way out of his league. Marco really was a creep. “If that scrawny little man can do it, so can I.”

#marcoacesabo #he's so mean #kinktober 2019 #this was a fun fic to write tho i'll admit #nothing other than fic gives me this level of giddy stupid joy #sabo #portgas d. ace #marco

[librationpoint]

Kinktober ‘19 - 17 Orgasm Denial

Day 17 - Orgasm Denial + 18 Fucking Machine Brad/Ray/Nate In which Ray learns the importance of self control.

Ray had never been good at the whole self control thing. Not outside of professional parameters, at least, and let's face it, even there he pushed up against the limits of what was allowed. It really shouldn't have been a surprise to anyone involved that he had trouble with the whole 'keep your hands off your cock until we tell you to come' thing. It wasn't as if he was rolling over and going to sleep immediately. He was still a lot younger than either of those old geezers, he could get it up again while they were switching around. 

Inexplicably, this line of reasoning didn't sway either Brad or Nate, who was usually fairly reasonable about things that didn't involve risk or self-sacrifice. Honestly, the lecture about using Brad's limited time in-country before he had to fly back off to the land of rain and cockney orphans seemed like an argument fewer days on the beach and as many orgasms as possible. 

Long story short, Ray got a little too mouthy for his own good and got himself locked in a cock cage for a weekend.

That had been annoying at first, especially while out grocery shopping, then aggravating as they went a couple rounds and he couldn't even get hard, much less jerk it or get off. All he had instead was just a weird uncomfortable squeezing. Sunday night got worse. At first Ray thought that being strapped to a fuck bench would be enough for the control freaks; indeed, he expected a thorough reaming while they took turns teasing his cock. A couple long, rough fucks he got, but instead of being deeply satisfying it was just deeply frustrating, because he got all the immense arousal without a happy ending. Ray loved getting fucked more than almost anything but almost included actually getting to come.

Ray was starting to work himself up to a rant along those lines when Brad revealed the fucking machine he'd apparently built in the garage while Ray was out running errands. 

"Whoa, whoa, hold on now, what's that?" Ray asked, trying to peek over his shoulder and not getting a very good look. There was some kind of small electric motor atop a sturdy stand, with a little arm attached. 

"Brad is concerned you're not getting enough dick while he's overseas," Nate replied, waving the glittering purple length of Ray's second-favorite dildo in his face before passing it back to Brad. "I assured him this wasn't the case, but he thought I might find this handy regardless."

Ray felt Brad's hand on his ass, then there was a slight whir of a motor being manually moved as the dildo was slid into his fucked-open hole. There was a small beep and it started to move, in until the base just started to brush the sides of Ray's butt cheeks and then back out until the head was barely inside, about six or so inches of movement total. Every time it brushed across Ray's sweet spot.

"Have fun with that for a while," Brad said, before turning away and walking across the basement to the less kinky side where the couch and bigscreen lived.. 

"Hey, no, come on," Ray shouted. "Take the fucking cage off at least!"

"Not until we're sure you've learned your lesson," Nate said. Then the fucker put a bit gag into Ray's mouth, strapped it into place, and gave the little escape bell by Ray's right hand a jingle before joining Brad.

It felt weird at first. Not like fucking at all, in the same way even a well-lubed hand wasn't like a mouth; different even than just fucking himself in the exact same dildo or having someone else use it on him. It was too regular and consistent, with no feedback between his reaction and the speed and force driving it through him. Every single stroke was identical, the subtle curves of the toy spreading and relaxing his hole the same way, the knob at the end stroking back and forth across his spot every six seconds or so. 

After the first couple minutes he thought he was adjusting. Relaxing. In his wilder days, before he'd met Brad and long before Nate, he'd had his share of unwise escapades. After his first deployment he'd once spent a night getting fucked, a way to get out of his head and also remind himself that this part of him existed after a year of talking about nothing but pussy and tits. For a while the machine didn't seem that different, until it became clear it was like comparing pudgy old Arnold to the Terminator. It didn't pause for breath, didn't slow down to extend its own pleasure, didn't take a break between guys. It just kept going and going, absolutely relentless, with only Ray's own attempts to squirm and adjust creating any difference.

Then the motherfucking computer nerd took a moment away from Halo to do something with a remote, and Ray discovered than inconsistency was actually more maddening. Slower, faster, sudden starts and stops, nothing to let Ray anticipate what would happen from one minute to the next. 

Ray didn't even realize for a while that the increasingly loud moaning and whining was him, trying to beg for release. Either release from the machine, release from his straps, or release from the cage, he didn't care which. He could feel the fiery burn deep in his gut trying to well up, but unable to release itself. His cock felt like it was trying to push out through every crack and opening of the cage, while his normally low-hangers were trying to climb up through the base ring. He could even hear a slow drip-drip-drip a precome fell onto the laminate floor beneath him. Fuck simulated drowning and beatings; SERE training should involve automated dildo machines. 

He could feel something change, like his guts were pressure cooker turned a little too high. There was a sudden silence as the gunfire and shouting at the TV stopped, leaving only his low keening and the whir of the machine. Nate squatted down in front of him, removing the gag and wiping away the tears from his face before raising his chin up to look him in the eyes.

"Please," Ray sobbed. "Please, please, please."

"Can you?" Nate asked. "Try and come for me."

Ray demonstrated that yes he could, sucking in jagged breaths as his cock pulsed and long, liquid spurts splashed onto the floor. It took most of a minute for the last dribbles to final stop, until he finally went entirely limp.

"This is incredible," Brad said, switching the machine off and drawing the toy from Ray's abused hole. "You are absolutely the biggest fucking cockslut I have ever met. You should be proud of yourself. I did not even know it was possible to love taking it up the ass so much you could come while soft."

"Be kind, Brad."

"I mean it. That was impressive."

"If one of you doesn't get this thing off my dick, I will kill you both in your sleep," Ray growled. After he slept himself for a day or two.

#kinktober