#recovery is going well so far | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

peachdues · 7 months

Text

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

4K notes · View notes

jinkiezzsstuff · 1 month

Text

At First Sight 3

Part: [1] [2]

Alastor x doe!fem!reader (gender neuteral pronouns)

warnings: 18+ SMUT, tentacles inclusion, tentacle bondage, predatory prey kink, breeding kink, creampie, male and female masturbation, in heat trope, tentacle masturbation, squirting, dirty talk, choking kink a tiny tiny amount, horror aspects, size kink if you squint, pregnancy although not in depth, you and al become parents, jealous alastor, alastor and lucifer hate eachother, lucifer disagrees with your relationship, swearing, babies given a name, girl dad alastor, NOT PROOF READ LADS I WAS LAZY, lemme know what i missed xoxox

taglist: @readergirlstuff @purplerose291 @chirimeimei @sirens-and-moonflowers

word count: 7.3K

Alastor had to bite his tongue through many instances in his life he rather not bite his tongue through, but this was by far the hardest he’s ever had to hold back. Lucifer pulled you into a strong hug, cooing at how much you’d grown and changed, pinching your cheeks and kissing your head. Even Alastor’s shadows edged out angrily across the floor at the devil, however you seemed to pay no mind to your newly wedded’s distaste in the devils affections. In fact you were laughing and playfully swatting at Lucifer for treating you so childishly.

Moulting into a shadow slithering across the floor like a snake, he crept up beside you and when he fully formed from the black goop, he waited not a second to pull you into him, and when he did you gave him a dreamy love sick look. Lucifer's face wasn’t shy in his display of disgust, eyes darting to you and Alastor, mouth ajar. “No.” Lucifer uttered in theatrical horror, jumping back and pointing his cane at Alastor. Grinning like the Cheshire cat, Alastor puffed with pride. “Yes.” Alastor practically growled, meanwhile rolled your eyes at both of their idiotic behaviour.

“I mean Charlie said you had an…. interesting taste in men but HIM?!” You grinned nervously at the king, his face soured as he glared at Al. You were in the midst of saying some good old recovery words to ease Lucifers mind, when Alastor pipped up, head held high as he spoke. “Yes indeedy! This little darling and I have become quite the pair. A married pair.” Alastors words were sharp and punctual, like spears tossed forcefully right at the king himself.

You’ve been in Lucifers life so long you might as well be a second daughter, now this deer fuck is stealing both his biological daughter and the one he practically adopted? Lucifer was steaming and you were caught between the two, you knew you were mated to Alastor, but that didn’t change how near and dear the king was to you.

“Guys,” You ushered in a hushed tone bringing your hand up, looking quite meek between the two seething demons. “Please relax, it’s not that serious. Alastor is my mate Luc-” As you were in the middle of calmly explaining the situation Lucifer jumped up like the ground had burnt him, horns shooting out of his head. “His what?!” Lucifer shouted, wings splaying out, tone demonic. Alastor chuckled, his static overlay enhanced as he fixed his monocle. “Yes, I just knew this doe had to be mine when I laid eyes on her! Oh my what a night we had.” In any other situation, on any other day, Alastor couldn’t have those words waterboarded out of him, but just in spite of the devil, he knew he ought to push his own boundaries.

The devil face morphed into shock horror as he tugged at his hat in pure stress, meanwhile Alastor stood tall and smug, with a shit eating grin on his face. You could tell Alastor was going to exploit your relationship just to piss Lucifer off. “What the holy fuck!” The king exclaimed, running in a quick circle, trying to grasp the situation. By now Lucifers entire demonic form was out, eyes blood red, horns at full length, wings flapping occasionally behind him. Thankfully Alastor wasn’t visibly upset, keeping his form and tone fixed. “Guys, Luce, relax! I wanted Alastor the moment I saw him, trust me I know what he’s done and who he is, but there was something about him. You know I’m not that stupid hellion who falls for anybody’s charms, Alastors got something.”

Lucifer didn’t seem to care for your reasoning, instead he glared at Alastor even harder, and pointed his index and middle finger toward his own eyes, and then Alastors. “I’m watching you deer dick.” Then Lucifer turned and stormed off, ignoring your call to come back and relax. Sighing your platinum ears flattened against your hair and head, posture falling. “Come now my dear, don’t dwell on that silly little man’s equally silly and little emotional control! We’re married now! We should be celebrating our fantastical venture into domestic romance!”

Although Alastor was right, the timing was wrong, and his voice was too happy for your state. “I know, but he’s like a second dad, I want him to like you and it stresses me that he doesn’t.” Alastor hums, gently guiding you back upstairs to your now shared bedroom. “Things tend to change with time sweetheart, let this be one of those things that change with time. He can see how good we are together and how good I am for this hotel!” You hummed falling into his side, your tail wagging happily as you reached the bedroom.

“I was also hoping he’d be able to lend us some advice but now I'm doubtful.” The door closed behind you and him, you immediately kicked your shoes off to free the hooves. “What advice dear?” Alastor asked softly, attention focused on untying his bow tie. “Well i’m quite concerned about getting pregnant with a fawn, and I want to know if our mating it’s demon or animal specific.”

The air got tight at the mention of children, and immediately you looked over to him watching his movements stall. His coat was now off leaving him in just his vest and button up. Sighing you rubbed your hand forcefully your forehead, mushing your skin around in an attempt to relieve the conflict in your head. “You mustn’t talk like that, little doe.” Alastors tone was stern, pointed and lacking all radio static, it was just his raw vocals that sounded almost raspy. You felt a few emotions at the way he said that, upset, angry, shocked.

Momentarily you scolded yourself for being so ludacris, this was Alastor! A serial killing, cannibalistic overlord who dealt in black magic, not your fairy prince; there were going to be big bumps and hurdles along the journey and you shouldn’t twist yourself up in a rose coloured fantasy. “Would it be that bad for you?” You couldn’t help but ask, your gaze averted instead focused on the intricate details of the wooden floor.

Alastor growled, slithering up beside you, using his magic to his advantage. “Now my dear don’t look so glum, you’re the first being of any kind to capture my heart. Shouldn’t that be something my dear?” You melted into his side when his arms came up to wrap around your figure. You stayed silent for a moment, not wanting to say the wrong thing and upset either of you. “It just felt saddening I guess, to have you react like that. I know a child is so much work, it is its own being; but when you reacted that way it felt like rejection of me, and us as a couple. Like i’m not good enough to be mated to.” Tears began to gather in your eyes, and you tried your best to keep them at bay, not wanting to cry about something so silly.

Your ears lay flat above your head, Alastor slowly petting the space between them as you spoke. Guiding you to your shared bed, Alastor sat you down, and then himself beside you. “My sweet doe,” Alastor said, smooth as butter, nuzzling himself in your neck, inhaling your scent. “If you so desire a child, we can certainly play into the fantasy, however we haven’t a clue whether it’s truly possible for me to reproduce!”

Resting your head atop his, feeling his soft ears flick and fold, his hair soft and scented with a masculine foresty shampoo. “Alastor,” You whined, making him chuckle darkly. “What about the mating stuff?” Alastor blew air on your shoulder before dragging his sharp teeth up your exposed neck. “My dear I'm sure you and I can figure it out together, no need for some silly devil. Besides we’re the two mated, we know deep down what we’re supposed to do, we knew when we first met each other we were meant to be.” Alastor leaned back from you, cupping your cheek.

You smiled at him enjoying the hazed lidded look Alastor had in his eye. “You have to be nice to Lucifer though.” Alastor growled lowly, the sound reverberating through his chest loudly. It sent shock waves through you, hearing such an animalistic sound from him. “It’s extremely hard to be nice when it’s so easy to make him upset!” Rolling your eyes, you brought your hands up to his face and held his face as he held yours. His ears flattened to each side as his eyebrows quirked, you felt a little bit of pride at the sight, it had only been a few weeks since you’ve been together but Alastor was already way more relaxed around you, to the point of freely showing emotions through movements in his tail and ears.

Pulling him toward you, you gave a soft kiss, which he immediately returned with a hum of approval. Alastors body inches nearer to yours, pressing himself next to you. Alastor broke the kiss, looking down at you with bedroom eyes, you returned the look, grinning at him coyly.

Lucifer fumed, stomping around, a week had passed since Lucifer found out you and that god awful creature were a pair. He insisted on staying at the hotel in order to keep an eye on the demon; assure that you were safe. Lucifer kept a keen eye on Alastor, like a fly on the wall, but from what Lucifer could tell, Alastor was a perfect gentleman! It pissed him off entirely. Alastor bent over backwards for you, making your breakfast and coffee every morning, helping you style your hair, helping you dress, assisting you with tasks you loathed completing, hell one night Lucifer caught Alastor teaching you how to play the piano, and when you got angry at your consistent failures, Alastor would reassure you lovingly and patiently.

It drove Lucifer insane because as much as he cared for you, he selfishly wanted Alastor to be a bad partner, giving reason as to why he should leave his two daughters and the hotel alone! But everytime he looked for a flaw he found none, half the time he found himself impressed, Alastor knew what to say, and was confident in his charm. “Dad, you gotta relax! YN is fine.” Charlie said worriedly, placing a hand on her fathers shoulder. Lucifer sighed, slamming his head against the bar table. “They want to have kids, Charlie!” The man sulked, voice muffled by the wooden bar he tried to morph and become one with. “WHAT!? Oh my gosh! That would be amazing! Why wouldn’t she tell me?!” Charlie at this point was violently shaking her father with excitement, a slight bounce in her as she shook him.

Lucifer looked off to the side, guilt evident in his eyes. “They didn’t tell anyone; I overheard.” Today in fact, he overheard the two of you in the back of the hotel, having a picnic in the garden. You had your head in Alastors lap as he pet your hair and ears occasionally, and told you stories from when he was alive; which you greatly enjoyed since you’d been born in hell. When he began to speak about his mother the conversion shifted to parenthood, and then children. Originally Lucifer didn’t intend to stay long, he simply slithered through the grass to eavesdrop a bit, make sure all was well and leave.

But he couldn’t leave when he heard what Alastor had to say. “Y’know dear, I never considered having children, but then again, I never considered being married either. I’ve thought about children now, of course, ha ha,” Alastor laughed boisterously. You could tell it was to cover up the nerves he felt inwardly, but Lucifer found him to be insufferable and inconsiderate. “We don’t know if we can Al,” You said softly, reaching your hand to Alastors cheek. Alastor quirked a brow amusement visibly shining in his eyes that searched your face for something. “We’d just have to wait until mating season darling.” Lucifer gagged at that, you however didn’t quite understand and it made Alastor coo about how adorable you are.

“Oh so we’re not supposed to know they’re gonna try for a baby?” Charlie asked stunned, backing away from her father. “No,” He moaned, slamming his head back down on the table. Charlie gave her dad a look but brushed it off, this was very exciting for her, she’d only tell Vaggie, that way the two could both subtly baby proof the hotel!

Autumn in hell roamed around and it was one hell of a year, the hotel went under attack, Lucifer then made himself a whole quarter of the hotel his, and Alastor followed suit with his radio tower, Sir Pentious died, Adam died, there was so much hectic chaos you could barely keep up. Not to mention the beginning of October left you feeling odd, to say the least. You couldn’t completely understand why, not much changed in the recent days, aside from a few sinners checking in. Nothing bad happened between you and Alastor either; things have been fantastic, the two of you would have the occasional spat about morality and manipulation, but Alastor had your soul and was your mate, so in the end you’d give in to him, and he in his own way to you.

One of your biggest points of contention was Alastors multi-beneficial behaviour, if he was going to do something you knew it was double edged, one side benefiting him and the other side doing what he was supposed to with the illusion of being gracious. One of the biggest arguments was kids; Alastor talked about having them in ways that benefited him, how it would rank him above other sinners, he’d have bloodline in hell which would grant him further authority beyond the pride ring, he could train his offspring to be like him. In short, Alastor didn’t want children, he wanted mini hims, to run around killing and eating others.

You tried your best to convince him that a child was no means to power, but he truly couldn’t understand the point of having them besides that. You tried not to blame him, understanding he wasn’t a fairy prince he was Alastor, and you loved him for that, but at times dealing with his psycho was frustrating.

You’ve noticed him acting strange today, he insisted you wore his clothes he’d been wearing the day before, you thought that was the strangest thing and tried to squeeze the reasoning as to why he wanted you to wear his worn dirty clothes. Unfortunately you never fully got the answer out of him, aside from him tutting that he wanted to make ‘that devil’ seethe, so you did. It wasn’t like it really bothered you, hell he even went out of his way to magic the clothes to fit your frame baggily. You wore one of his washed out red button ups, and his slacks, thankfully you found the fit to be somewhat chic and enjoyed the idea of prancing around in clothes that were his, and smelt like him.

Walking down to the lobby like you did everyday, you were greeted by Alastor holding your cup of coffee as always, this time however his appearance looked worrisome. “What’s wrong Al?” You exclaimed rushing over to him, gazing up to him because his form was just slightly elongated. “Nothing my dear! Just a little bit of frazzle this morning!” You didn’t believe that for one second; his antlers were out and looked like they were peeling, his eyes were black and turned to dials, his neck elongated, smile strained and his hair puffed. “Was it you and Lucifer having some marital spat again?” You joke, taking your cup of coffee and following him into the kitchen.

“No dear, please refrain from commenting about that filthy devil, it’s insulting to replace you with him. It’s simply the change of seasons.” Setting his coffee on the counter top, he leaned on it, arms folded and looked over to you. Your ears folded down, a confused look taking over your face. “Is it a deer thing? I woke up feeling strange too, I’m sweating more than usual, and it’s hot, and sometimes my body will start tingling!” You explain hurriedly, slightly worried at what was going on.

Alastor swallowed, smile straining, he wasn’t equipped with how to handle the situation. “Well dear,” Alastor stalled, momentarily scratching the loose felt on his antler. You gazed at him waiting for a response, but it never came, he just filled the air with static, eyeing you up and down. “Hello, Al? I would prefer to know, you look stressed.” You urged leaning toward him, Alastor inhaled deeply, and exhaled a growl. Your body reacted instantly to the noise, feeling a travelling sensation of heat shoot from your groin to your head making you feel dizzy. “If we are to talk about such things, it will not be here.” He snapped eyes closed tightly, fists clenched, you had no clue what was up with him. Just as you were about to urge him further, Lucifer came skipping into the kitchen whistling a tune. “Oh heyyy guys!” Lucifer exclaimed in a valley girl-esque voice, strutting up to the two of you.

“Morning big daddy.” You say jokingly, it wasn’t that big of a deal to you two; you always referred to Lucifer by either his name or some variation of dad. Alastor however didn’t find this to be funny, you and lucifer watched as Alastor grew taller, his static deafening. “Uhhh morning pumpkin,” Lucifer muttered, eyes focused on Alastor as he spoke. You heard the clacking of heels against the floor and your attention turned to the door. Angel paused at the entrance looking between Al and Lucifer. At this point Alastor leered over Lucifer, bent abnormally so, you were eyeing Angel between the gap Alastor left open. You mouthed ‘help’ at Angel, but he only grimaced and slowly backed off. “Do not refer to them that way.”

The air thickened, Alastor was tall and violent looking, there was black substance leaking from between his yellow teeth, the lights were dimmed and flickering, while his radio played creepy and glitchy old timey music. His voice was nearly unrecognisable as he grit his words out at Lucifer, and for the first time in hell, you felt terrified of a sinner. Most of the seven sins weren’t this eerie when they got mad, neither were the hellborns, they mainly just killed whoever crossed them; no one had shown their true demonic powers in front of you before.

“Woah there, big fella… uh, alright! I’ll just leave you two to it! And i’ll be gone!” And just like that Lucifer scurried off in an extremely comical way. Alastor, despite Lucifer gone didn’t come back to himself, still hunched over breathing deeply, static crackling through the air. You didn’t exactly know what to do in this situation, so for a moment you just stood watching. Eventually, after about two minutes of silence, Alastor shrunk, ever so slightly, still tall and creepy but not nearly as much as before. The static ceased, and the lights returned to the usual brightness, Alastor looked down at you, his usual red eyes back. “I’m so sorry dear, I hope I didn’t frighten you.”

You swallowed harshly, you had a strange mix of fear and arousal swirling within you that you weren’t ready to share with the demon, so instead you shook your head, unconvincingly so. “No not at all Al, how come that made you so upset?” A soft record scratch came from him when you asked. “What ever do you mean?” He innocently asked, tone lifted in false innocence. Crossing your arms together, hip propped out, you eyed him closely trying to gage what you were dealing with. As your eyes ran from his antlers down, you stopped crudely at his hips, noting the strain that appeared.

Alastor wasn’t big on sex, and to be fair you didn’t exactly have a high libido either, you preferred make out sessions and sweet romance, not necessarily needing sex. So it wasn’t often you’d see him in such a state, normally he only showed arousal when he was actively involved with you. Without warning he leaned over you, hands splayed across the counter behind you, trapping you between him and the counter. “Naughty little doe, can’t keep your eyes off me?” Alastor mocked darkly, his breath brushing against your cheek. The way he contorted down from his stretched height didn’t look anatomically possible, and despite the terrifying look of him you felt giddy and cheeky, with the urge to egg him on further.

You couldn’t stop the smirk that crawled its way onto your face, biting your lip in an attempt to curb it, unfortunately Alastor saw. Forcefully he grabbed your cheeks with his claws, yanking your face upward to face him properly. “My dear, I’ve been playing nice but i can see the mischief in your eyes-” Before he could finish you flattened your fingers and palm flat against the bulge in his pants. Alastor stilled as you gave him a pout, doe eyes blinking up at him and your white ears pulled back.

Alastor growled at the sight, shamefully bucking into your warm hand. “I’m sorry, I can’t help it, you're so handsome, y’know?” You whined, your other hand placed on his forearm beside you. Alastor grunted, something you rarely heard from him. “Upstairs, go.” He replied flatly, staring beyond your head at the cabinets above. Giggling manically, you ducked under his arms and sprinted to your shared room. Your body felt on fire and you could feel the arousal between your legs. As you rushed up the stairs you bumped into Angel who grabbed you by the shoulders. “Woah there toots, where ya headed now so cracked out, are things with big red all good?” Before you could respond, Alastors demonic form made way down the hall, shadows crawling out from his feet and knocking out the lights.

“Oh yeah okay, makes sense.” Angel said in a hurry, before taking off leaving you to your own devices. Laughing aloud with a giant grin on your face you continued sprinting down the hall, just barely out of Alastors grasp. His radio was a good tell on how close he was to you, the static was going crazy nearly giving you a headache. You broke out into an anxious run, unable to fight off the anticipation of what would happen. When you got to the room, you ran inside shutting the door. You glanced around and decided a good hiding place would definitely be the most cliche, not under the bed but under a computer desk. You squished yourself underneath the desk, which was incredibly uncomfortable and pulled the chair in to cover you as much as you could.

The door suddenly creaked open, the shadows consumed the floor, the lights dying out. Alastors static couldn’t be heard, but you could hear and feel the vibrations of his footsteps around the room. “Oh sweet thing, I know you don’t truly want to hide from me. Why don’t you come on out to me?” His voice was smooth compared to before, the static left his voice, leaving his unique and rich voice all bare to your ears. The burning sensation in your body worsened and it felt torturous to deny your body any friction, you knew if you moved you were done for.

Despite not being in real danger, your heart kicked up in speed when you heard his nails drag across the wooden desk above, his hooves coming into sight at the corner. Alastor pulled out the chair, humming to himself as he sat down. You held your breath as you watched him spread his lags out, shadows darker than the dark room swarming up behind him. You watched him unbuckle his belt lazily, his head obscured from your view, only his clawed hand and crotch in sight. “Up,” He ordered once his belt was undone, and his shirt untucked. Slithering out from under the desk, you used his thighs to balance and help you lift yourself up. Before you could fully get up he grabbed you by the neck and tugged you into a firey kiss. His teeth scraped against yours, and his tongue instantly took over your mouth, exploring and tainting every inch of your mouth.

You moaned into him as his other hand gripped your hip, digging his nails deep into it. Yanking your body up, you now sat on his lap just below the large bulge he’d been teasing you with. You jerked your hips forward, yearning the friction of him against you. Alastor pulled away a string of saliva still connecting the two of you together, you whined throwing your head back slightly in defiance. You’d never wanted someone so badly before, it was even worse then the first time you’d met Al. Panting you wrapped your arms around his neck, humping him mindlessly, the only focus being on cumming. “Look at you,” Alastor sneered, gripping your hips and pushing you down against him. “So desperate, you’ve got no restraint. I’m disappointed in you, little doe.”

You croaked out what could only be described as a plea, but really it just sounded like a meek shout. Above the two of you Alastors antlers grew out, looking large and broad. “Y’know what time it is my dear.” Alastor groaned watching sweat slip down your chest, eye twitching as he held himself back. “Answer me.” He ordered sticking his nails into your tights, you gasped and moaned finding more pleasure in the act then pain. “No,” You cried softly and breathlessly. At that Alastor brought his head down to nuzzle the top of your head, careful of his antlers, and whispered in your ear. “Mating season.” You stuttered breathing out a “ha” noise, lacking humour and instead being replaced by desperation. In this position you could smell only his scent, and the arousal you left in the air, it made you feel dizzy with lust. You knew what this meant and it edged you further to the fall; he was going to mate you; breed you. You cried his name and begged for nothing, just tugging at his coat and begging for him, and only him.

The demon chuckled darkly moving away from your hair, and with lidded eyes he looked down at you, messily humping him, nearly on the verge of tears. What a sight to behold. His tentacles emerged lifting you above his lap, just enough for him to get his slacks off. Once off, he leaned back, you hoisted in the air still squirming, he practically lit up with a light bulb of an idea. Gripping himself through his boxers, Alastor slowly stroked himself; grinning cheekily up at you as he did so, seeing how instantaneously you were captivated by him. Without your knowledge, the tentacles worked around you, undoing, and slowly pulling off your (alastors), slacks. With one tentacle around your waist, two under each arm, and two underneath your knees keeping your legs pulled apart, there was too many tentacles to notice that your pants and underwear were being discarded.

Not to mention Alastor had you enamoured with the way he stroked himself, humming out noises of approval, just for you. You moaned when you felt the coldness of a tentacle inch up the entirety of your vulva, practically cupping your entire heat. You let out a guttural groan at the sensation, immediately jerking into his magic. “Oh fuck Alastor,” You cried shaking as the tip of the tentacle swirled your clit. Alastor watched you tentatively, enjoying all the ways your body reacted.

Alastor loved watching how your toes curled, or how your stomach would clench visibly, or how you feebly tried to pull your legs together. He sped his movements, enjoying the feeling of himself through his boxers, a little dribble of cum staining a wet spot on his drawers. Alastor rarely jerked off, but god did it feel good to put on a show for you, he loved the ways your eyes only focused on him, never moving away from what he was doing. Alastor saw you were coming close to the end, but if you were to cum, it was going to be around him. With the flick of a wrist, the tentacles plopped you back on his thighs, disappearing and making you cry out.

“Alastor please, please, please, I need you,” You whined bucking up into the air. Alastor grabbed your wrists that were flinging around slightly trying to keep yourself stable. Alastor would be the first to admit, it was extremely hard to keep his smile right now, he wanted to give you other expressions to burn into your brain. “Look at me darling.” Alastor cooed, not enjoying the fact your eyes were squeezed tightly shut. You were still mumbling incoherent pleas as you cracked them open, being greeted by Alastors chest and lazily leaned back figure, he was still stretched out to an abnormal degree which gave you and him more leeway. The way he looked at you as if you were a god, it made your stomach flutter, not to mention how he made you feel so effortlessly small, which in a way felt nice, especially with him.

“You’re so gorgeous dear, I hope our children have your eyes,” You curled forward against your will, gripping his shirt like it was your lifeline. You nearly came at his forwardness not to mention the certainty in his voice, and he found it to be oh so adorable. Carefully he lifted you and lined himself up with you, thanks to the help of his tentacles. Inhaling deeply, he briefly enjoyed the smell of your scent throughout the room, from your sweat, to your fragrances, to your arousal, it all intoxicated him all at once with need. Slowly he sat you down on him, you had made yourself so wet there was barely any resistance, you did however clench making it extremely difficult for Alastor to hold back.

Groaning loudly, the demon smiled wide, straining to keep his composure. You had fallen against his chest, gripping onto him tightly, mouth ajar, drool dripping, and eyes shut tightly, you were in bliss. The only thing your mind could comprehend was him, all of him, and having him breed you, mate you, fill you full of him. At that thought your hips involuntarily bucked up, your clit brushing against the curly pubic hair he had, that trailed up to his bellybutton. Alastor drew in a breath, leaning his head back against the large seat behind him, feeling electrified by your walls around him. Feet planted on the floor Alastor used his footing to fuck up into you harshly, jerking your body upward as he did so. You cried out his name, letting him use your body as he pleased, and use he did. Alastors gentleman ways were far behind him at this moment, his mind was clouded with one purpose and that was to breed you. He harshly jerked his hips up into you, bouncing you up and down on top of him at his own will and pace.

His head was still laid back on the head rest, exposing his neck to you. Speedily, as he jerked up into you, you focused on undoing the buttons of his collared shirt, your mind set on leaving bites and hickeys all along him. Once you gained access to his neck fully, you dived in moaning and dragging your teeth against his warm flesh. This caused him to snap forward, his arms caging you from behind, pushing you into him future. You licked, kissed and bit at his neck occasionally groaning his name, Alastor started to pant violently, growling every so often. Lifting his hips off the chair with you still there, he stood up, his tentacles assisting where ever he needed. With the new posture granted new access, and a new pace. With your legs wrapped his waist you could feel his his tail that wagged and stiffened repeatedly against you, it made your own wiggle in response.

Alastor was a true demon now, pushing your upper half backward, you fumbled afraid to fall and hit your head on the desk, but instead you were pleased to feel four tentacles holding you up, and keeping you from falling. Alastor dragged his claws down your now exposed chest, straight down to your clit, marking the trail down your skin with a discoloured line. It gave you goosebumps and you clenched in anticipation, as his movements had stunted a little bit ago. Finally his eyes met yours, clouded with lust and a deeper red colour than before, speaking of which- he could barely keep them open, so fucked out in his own lust. His movements began, slow and deep at first, his eyes never looking away from yours, and you were too hypnotised by his to even think about looking anywhere else but him. Alastor made sure with every thrust you felt it through your entire body, every prod was deep and forceful, and it worked making you see stars. You cried out clenching your legs around him as he finally began to pick up the pace, jolting your body with ever thrust.

As he rapidly picked up the pace, you moaned, whined and grunted out high pitched noises of pleasure that you never knew you could make. Alastor was growling, and grunting, teeth bared as he jackhammered into you, skin slapping filling the silent room. Bending forward to lean over you, he nipped and bit at your chest leaving prominite triangular teeth marks that were unmistakably his. With the current angle he hit a spot in you that caused you to squeal, screaming his name at the top of your lungs, you reflexively gabbed his antlers. “More, more,” You cried squeezing onto the thick antlers. Alastor moaned, not growled or grunted, moaned. His pitch was lifted and his eyes closed in bliss as he began to hump you desperately, his legs jittery from the excitement. Panting, he lifted his head to meet your eyes, which weren’t facing him but instead the wall, your head turned away shyly. Grabbing your face, he forced your head in his direction and crash his lips against yours.

It was an opened mouth kiss with no rhythm, just teeth, tongue and desire. You both moaned and panted into each others mouths, and each time Alastor let out a breathless moan, you clenched around him. Wrapping his arms around you, Alastor pulled his mouth away noses still touching. “I c-can’t dear, not gonna last.” Alastor gritted, making you whine and mutter incoherently, you were already gushing fluids all down his legs and balls like a water fountain. “Oh fuck,” Alastor moaned his static glitching in and out. His pace suddenly quickened to a sickening degree, every thrust he let out a breathy growl. “Gonna breed you,” He muttered against your lips before crashing them against you, with the senstaion of wet pubic hair bumping against your swollen clit, and his body heat suffocating you, you couldn’t hold out any longer. The coil snapped in you, liquid gushing rapidly out of you painting his cock with your fluids, your body violently convulsed against him, screeching his name like a wild animals.

Alastors eyes turned to dials as his pace quickened, your orgasm bringing his own on as he felt the pressure break, without care he continually hammered into you, moaning and groaning your name into the nape of your neck. Around the room the lights violently flickered and flashed various colours, the radio off to the side flicking on and off with a strange tune. The amount of cum he strung out felt inhuman, and it felt like it was bloating you up. After a few moments of him whining and fucking into you, his cum so bountiful it ended up leaking out of you with every pump. Eventually he stilled falling against you and his tentacles that were also shaking with strain and exhaustion. The flickering lights and crazy stereo glitching ceasing. Alastor gripped you tightly, his shadows encasing the two of you, and releasing you on your shared bed. Alastor hadn’t pulled out of you, instead he pulled you closer, his body snapping back to his regular size, and snuggled himself into your back.

You were barely responsive, still dazed and confused trying to catch your breath. Alastor played with your fingers absentmindedly, kissing your exposed shoulder. Sighing happily, you wiggled yourself back up into him. “I love you dear.” Alastor muttered, silently voice muffled from the fact his face was buried against your shoulder. “I love you too.” You felt him freeze against you, suppose he didn’t expect you to be coherent enough for you to realize or respond.

“I just think there’s something more going on ere’.” Angel teased grinning at you, Lucifer hand his head down against the bar, Charlie and Vaggie sat on the couch, Vaggie looked tired and pissed off. Husk was, well Husk, and Nifty was nowhere to be seen. “What do you mean?” You say innocently sitting at a chair with your morning coffee by your side. “Oh please! The whole seven rings heard you two!” The king wailed, grabbing his hat so hard it may have ripped. You felt heat crawl up your neck at the claim, surely you weren’t that loud right? “Oh ya! The whole hotels hydro went out, thanks a lot strawberry pimp, made my stereo go all haywire.” Angel snickered poking your thigh with a raise of his eyebrows. Alastor stood tall behind you, a relaxed smile on his face. “I had to hear you two moan all morning yesterday!” Lucifer cried out throwing himself off the chair dramatically throwing himself around in despair. Alastor growled beside you, and when you glanced up you were surprised to see his ears pinned back.

“Guys cmon, you’re making me uncomfortable.” You say, you weren’t at all uncomfortable, but you worried that Alastor may have been, and you knew he wouldn’t enjoy being pushed under the bus and presented as weak to sexual teasing. Charlie thankfully ushered her father a way, and Vaggie walked off with her giving both you and Alastor a glare. The room was momentarily silent once they left, you eyed Angel, and Husk throwing back alcohol at the bar. “So, kids eh?” Immediately Alastor morphed into his demonic form at Angels words. You gave Angel a look but he wasn’t afraid of either of you, instead he giggled and skipped over to Husk.

Cuddled down in your brand new duvets, compliments of Lucifer, you waited for your husband to get back. Thankfully Alastor was always punctual and never kept you waiting long. Beside you on the left side of the bed was a crib, decked out in soft pinks and reds, with black accents all around. Attached to the crib was a demonic mobile, with little wooden runes, teeth, and horn hung on it handmade by Alastor. You had given birth to your baby only a week ago, and Alastor was doting, and a little obsessed. He wouldn’t let you leave the hotel, and very rarely the room. If you did leave you were followed by him, his shadows and Husk. He’d been out today all day, doing a special broadcast which involved slaughtering dozens of citizens and broadcasting it just as a friendly reminder as to not get in his way, or mess with him.

It felt a little wrong, Alastor had told you his plans and when you looked down at your baby girls face you couldn’t deny him, you wanted people to stay away, so neither of you told Charlie or Lucifer where he’d be going, just that he’d be gone. And he was supposed to return shortly, you made sure to listen in on his torturous journey, slightly enjoying how hot he sounded. Beside you, Mara, your baby girl, stirred making baby noises as she did so. Leaning over you peaked in to see if she was actually awake or simply shuffling and making noises in her sleep. When you looked over you were greeted with big (e/c) baby eyes of your daughter, she had alastors hair and ears, but thankfully lacked his yellow teeth, you loved your husband but it was uh, his aesthetic. Scooping her up you cooed to her and placed her on your bare chest, petting the tiny wisps of red hair that sprout from her head. She was warm, and smelt like brand new baby, fresh skin, with fragments of yourself and Alastor lingering. Being a deer certainly heightened the pregnancy process, and Alastors fears of being like the wild bucks above on earth were quickly dismissed.

Alastor was enamoured with Mara the moment you found out you were pregnant, it was a very trying time considering everybody was absolutely against it or absolutely infatuated, you had people telling n the news obsessively writing articles about you two, Vox was absolutely up your guys’ ass, and Lucifer was his own little problem. He never left Alastor alone always hounding him on how to be a good dad and to not ‘eat the baby’, which always made the room go silent. Alastor suddenly materialized in the room, black shadows crawling away from his form as he stepped in. Immediately his eyes zeroed in on you and Mara, eyes brightening at the sight. Slinking over to the bed, Alastor slid in beside you arm coming around your shoulder while the other pet the baby’s head and little ears. “She’s just a beauty! Oh if only my mother could meet her.” You looked over to him at that, a little surprised at that, you were very aware he was a mommas boy but never had you thought of the fact he’s been so far from her for so long, and that he may inwardly desire to have her back in his life.

Little hands came up and grabbed onto Alastors long fingered claw, brining it to her mouth, Mara began to ‘chew’ on him. You grinned happily at the sight, Alastor chuckling beside you. “So, I was listening over the radio, but regardless, how’d it go?” You ask twisting your body toward him, he hummed pulling his hands away from Mara. “Oh it was spectacular, everything went swimmingly. I briefly met up with Rosie and relayed the news, she's absolutely thrilled at the birth of Mara, says we must come by with her for lunch.”

“Will you let that happen, I haven’t seen the outside in days.” Alastor hummed flatly giving you a playful cut eye. “Perhaps a day will be fine.” You snorted, focusing your attention back on the baby, placing a kiss on her forehead. “So, whadaya think, grandpa Luc-” Alastor quickly interjected. “Immediately no, but go on.” You laughed aloud, shaking your head at his behaviour. “Grandpa Luci, Uncle Angel, Uncle Husk, Auntie Charlie, Aunt Vaggie, then we have Cousin Nifty, andddd.” You trail off thinking about who else could be added to the equation. “Godmother Rosie?” Alastor pipped up, seeming genuinely happy, you agreed instantly, loving the idea of Rosie being the godmother should anything happen to you two. Or Lucifer, or Charlie.

Alastor gently gestured to the baby, signaling he wanted to hold her, so you passed her over delicately watching as she melted into Alastors chest. “So dear,” Alastor said with a mischievous tone, head tilting towards you. “Shall we feed her deer meat? I think it’s good to start em young!” You groaned, and rolled your eyes it seemed your first fatal relationship argument was kids, and now the next will be what to feed them.

2K notes · View notes

buckyalpine · 7 months

Note

Request 👉🏼👈🏼 ? Black widow!reader and winter soldier!Bucky! He was her teacher in the red room, where they eventually fell in love and started a secret relationship, until Hydra and Dreykov found out and separated them. Fast forward several years, Bucky’s out of recovery, reunited with Steve, and living a better life when Tony brings in a new team member. And everyone’s excited but Bucky’s on edge and kinda wary until he learns who it is.

It’s his lil widow, the love of his life, his soulmate. the one Hydra and the red room stole from him, the girl he kept dreaming about no matter how many times his handlers tried to wipe his memories. Just complete fluffy, smutty, love sick shit with him being a massive simp for his deadly girl. maybe building a family, getting married, drabbles of him drooling over her skills or her in the widow suit, like oh yea, I taught her that. I can imagine him being so overly protective, constantly holding her close to his chest because she was stolen away from him once, he won’t survive if that happens again.

YESSSSS God this is so cute and smutty and angsty and FLUFFY it makes my chest itch in the best way. Pls ignore what google translate may have botched. Bucky is the cutest, horny, most deadly simp here, so proud of his girl, absolutely yes.

"ne proyavlyay miloserdiya, soldat" [Show no mercy, soldier], Dreykov hissed, letting the soldier enter the red room with a single widow standing before him, not an ounce of fear in her eyes. The soldier grunted, hitting the button that locked the door that kept her from escaping before lunging forward, testing her agility after personally training her himself.

She leapt over him with ease, bracing her hands on his wide shoulders and landing swiftly behind him and swiping her leg under him to knock him to the floor, straddling him immediately after. He grasped her hands in his, rolling over till she was pinned under his large mass with her wrists held together above her head in his metal hand.

"You've learned well kotenok" His voice was husky behind the mask, blue eyes sparkling while she huffed, rolling her eyes.

"Nespravedlivo, kogda ty takoy bol'shoy, soldat" [Not fair when you're so large, soldier]. She gasped feeling him harden on top of her, his rough uniform doing nothing to hide what he was feeling for her, slotted between her thighs.

"Nespravedlivo, kogda ty takoy krasivyy, kotonok" [Not fair when you're so pretty, kitten]. He climbed off her, allowing her to get into position before attacking again, relentlessly throwing punches and blocking them till she nearly collapsed. They retreated to stand at attention at the sound of the doors hissing open, indicating training was over. The soldier grunted a nod as Dreykov walked in, assessing the widow, a sinister smile plastered on his face seeing both of his assets worn but still at their strongest.

He sent them off to their cells, confident that the fear he'd instilled in his captives would be enough to ensure they stayed in line, not realizing his punishments would only go so far.

It wasn't enough to stop the charming young man from Brooklyn who still lived in his most feared asset.

"Did I hurt you baby" The soldier whispered, kissing her bruised knuckles softly after sneaking into her cell, pulling her into his arms.

"You could never" She smiled, melting into his embrace. She never intended on falling in love with the soldier but here she was, feeling his gentle hands wander, leaning up to kiss his soft, pink lips. They were playing a dangerous game but it was to stop now.

He loved her.

She loved him.

"Wipe him" The hydra agent ordered while the soldier gripped onto the chair, gritting his teeth while sharp burning spread through his body, frying his brain. The widow dug her nails into her palms, resolve slowly crumbling seeing the love of her life tortured, unable to hold back anymore.

"Stop!" She finally broke, unable to watch any longer, gasping at the sinister smile Dreykov gave her, ordering his men to grab her before increasing the voltage.

"My, my, does it hurt you when we hurt him" Dreykov sneered, turning up the dial, Bucky's screams tearing her apart on the inside.

"Don't-AH-JAMES" A hydra soldier gripped her hair, yanking her back before she could go to him, shackles binding her hands together, dragging her away.

"kotenok" [kitten] The soldier sadly whispered, unheard by her, her kicking and screaming form blurry from his unshed tears. He screamed in pain as another shock ripped through his veins before the world went black.

He never saw her again.

Bucky gasped, sucking in a deep breath of air, his chest heaving from the dream he'd just had, sweat covering his chest, dripping from his forehead.

It was the same thing almost every night.

His mind replaying the same thing over and over again; training with her in the red room, the way she felt under him, the way he'd cuddle and make love to her afterwards without a soul knowing. He didn't plan on falling for the woman he had to train to be a killer but he didn't stand a chance the day she'd knocked him down with a knife pressed to his neck seconds later. He could have married her then and there.

He slumped back against his pillow, running a hand over his face, groaning in frustration.

In the several years, he'd slowly managed to get his life back together. He was apart of the team and living at the compound with Steve and the others. He was no longer controlled by trigger words, he had been forgiven by the government, he was starting to recover from all the trauma he'd endured. His nightmares were less frequent, slowly learning to forgive himself for the things he'd been forced to do under Hydras control.

The only thing he never got over was her.

She still lived in his dreams. Still owned his heart. That was his girl and she was torn away by the very people that had taken everything else from him too. No amount of wiping or torture took her away. His handler tried his hardest, shocking him till his nose bled and his veins nearly burnt to bits but her name would fall from his lips as he lay nearly unconscious.

His sweet widow.

Bucky glanced at the faint light starting to stream through the curtains, swinging his legs over the edge of his bed to get up instead of attempting to sleep for 5 more minutes. He threw on a hoodie and some joggers, making his way to the gym to punch his feelings away as usual. He didn't stop till his knuckles split, ignoring the sting, instead thinking about how he'd kiss her soft hands after he'd train her, bandaging them up when no one was looking.

The hot water from the shower did little to ease the tension in his muscles as he made his way to the kitchen next, plopping onto a stool with a cup of coffee. He was just about to try and relax with his coffee until Steve popped his head in with a grin.

"There you are! Tony was looking for you, we're all heading up now!" Bucky frowned in confusion while Steve grabbed his own mug, filling his cup.

"Why are we having a meeting" Bucky questioned, not willing to get up from his seat, his mind still preoccupied.

"He told you he scouted someone to join the team"

"I remember Tony going on about some new member" Bucky mumbled, not in the mood to meet new people, his anxiety only growing further. "That's today?"

Steve nodded, finishing up the last of his coffee while the brunette stayed glued to the stool.

"Buck, you coming?" Steve turned back to see a frowning Bucky, reluctantly trudging behind the captain while the others excitedly also made their way upstairs to the conference area.

"I heard Tony saying the new agent is scary as shit. Apparently he got his ass handed to him when he tried to test her and he was wearing his suit" Sam snorted while Nat smiled with excitement.

"Finally someone worth sparring with" The redhead nudged him while he shook his head.

"I'm serious! She's deadly deadly. I looked over her file, she's killed more people than you and Clint combined and half of those were hand to hand combat"

"What was the other half"

"Sniper. Like Barnes" Sam nodded to Bucky who was still disconnected from the others, his knee bouncing impatiently.

"We're lucky she's on our side" Steve mused, taking a glance of the file that sat on the table. There was no name or picture to go with it but it had a skillset record nearly put his to shame. "Jesus"

"You good?" Sam whispered to Bucky, noticing he was more closed off than usual, getting a tightlipped grimace like smile in return. Steve sat near the front, straightening himself up while the rest quietened down, hearing the sound of Tony speaking to someone as they approached the room. The billionaire opened the door, letting in the new team member first before entering himself with a large smile on his face.

"Everyone, this is-

"Y/n?" Bucky gasped, shoot up from his seat before Tony could finish, the other sharing confused glances between each other, watching the new team member and Bucky freeze.

"Wait, Barnes, you know-

"Malyshka, eto pravda ty?" [Babygirl, is it really you?] Bucky gasped, his heart hammering against his chest, tears already threatening to spill out. "kotenok, skazhi mne, pozhaluysta, chto eto ty" [kitten, please tell me its you]

"Hold up, he can still speak Russian?" Sam hissed to Steve who hadn't moved, mouth gaping, eyes wide.

"James!" You darted across the room to meet Bucky half way, his strong arms catching and lifting you up with ease as your legs wrapped tightly around his waist. "moy soldat. YA zdes', moy malysh" [my soldier. I'm here my babyboy]

"It's really you" He whispered against your hair, breathing in your soft scent, eyes squeezed shut with tears streaming down his face, "My baby" He cradled you tightly, refusing to set you down while you buried your face into the crook of his neck, drowning out the rest of the world. After you were torn apart from him, you had been locked up in an isolated cell, only let out for select missions Dreykov send you on. You wanted to find your soldier, your James, but you never did with Hydra keeping him under their control.

Now you finally had him again.

"Ahem, as I was saying- This is y/n" Tony addressed the rest of the team, just as surprised as the rest of them with all eyes on Bucky especially. "She'll be joining us once Barnes puts her down"

"Never" Bucky finally pulled away, still holding onto you, his nose nudging against yours, "M'never putting her down, never, you hear me babygirl?" He pressed his lips onto yours, shamelessly kissing you hard, ignoring the whistles that filled the room, only pulling away for air. You let out a shy giggle as he set you back on your feet, his hand wrapped around your waist.

"I'd continue to introduce her but I think tinman knows her better" Tony snorted, throwing his hands up before taking a seat, all eyes now watching two of you while Bucky blushed, unable to wipe the smile of his face, cupping your face to press another kiss to your lips.

"This is y/n" Bucky finally let you go, taking you to the front of the conference room, now proudly showing you off to the other, "She was a widow with Hyrda, handpicked by Dreykov" Bucky sucked in a breath before continuing, giving your hand a squeeze "I trained her in the red room myself when I was still the winter soldier. That's when I fell in love with her" The last part was a whisper, not missed by the team with how lovesick Bucky looked.

"I'm sorry, you trained her? Jesus, no wonder she's deadly" Sam shook his head, now understanding why your file was so impressive. You were already gifted when you were picked, coupled with the fact that you were trained and conditioned by the soldier himself.

"She's fuckin' deadly, alright" Bucky's voice was nearly breathless, his baby blues intently gazing into your eyes. "You should see her with a knife"

That's when I fell in love with you.

"So what happened with you two" Nat prodded, looking at you two with heart eyes which was a rare sight but her heart melted at how soft Bucky was, struggling to keep his hands to himself. He constantly nuzzled into your neck, his large form practically swallowing you whole as he clung onto you like a child.

"They found out we were together so they took me from him" You gave her a sad smile, feeling Bucky hug you tighter; you could have sworn you heard him whimper. "I tried to find him for years but I couldn't"

"Hydra tried to wipe my memories but it never worked. Couldn't forget her" Bucky kissed the top of your head, not realizing his bestfriend was trying to subtly wipe his eyes.

"I was going to have everyone introduce themselves but I think these two have some catching up to do so let's move this meeting over" Tony clapped his hands while everyone else nodded in agreement, leaving you and Bucky alone for some privacy.

"I missed you so much, you have no idea, I-I tried to find you but I just- I could barely function, I'm sorry doll-" Your lips cut off Bucky's rambling, cupping his scruffy face firmly in your hands.

"You have nothing to be sorry about baby, it's not your fault"

"I-I know you just got here and-sweets I don't want to rush anything but-" Bucky's hand gripped your waist while he tried to compose himself, he didn't want to pressure you into anything. "I need you closer baby"

"Take me, soldat" You whispered, not giving him any room to second guess as he hauled you up in his arms, taking you straight to his room. Clothes were off in an instant between frantic and desperate kisses. Bucky didn't rush a thing as soon as he had you naked in his bed, pulling the sheets over you both, rolling over to cuddle instead.

"This is all I wanted" He whispered against your shoulder, kissing your skin, "To have my girl with me again"

"I love you Jamie" You kissed his bare chest, hitching your leg over his waist, his hard length pressing against your soaked cunt. He could feel his tip weeping feeling your soft body pressed against his, still looking just as beautiful, if not more now, from when he'd first met you.

"Prettiest widow" He growled, his wandering hands becoming less wholesome as they moved to your hips, pulling you to press against his erection harder. You moaned feeling him starting to hump your pussy while innocently kisses down your neck, smirking at how he was both sweet and sinful at the same time, just as before. "kotenok, ty mne nuzhen" [Kitten, I need you]

You remembered all the times he'd snuck into your cell for a few cuddles, which always ended up with his hand slammed over your mouth while he railed you with his cock.

"You feel how hard I am for you baby? Mmph, this is all for you, doll" He bit his lip, eyes locked with yours, rolling on top of you, slotting his wide body between your legs, still rutting his hips. "Can I make love to you baby, please" He sounded desperate, dropping his forehead to press against yours, hands coming to pin you against the bed.

"M'yours Jamie" You nodded, spreading your legs wider, not bothering with having prep you, needing him inside you more than anything else. You gasped feeling his thick cockhead rub through your folds before he breeched your hole, stretching you.

"Soldat!" You moaned, your back arching off the bed, the name rolling of your tongue as it had so many times before, your nails digging into his shoulders as he buried himself to the hilt.

"Take your soldat's cock, kotenok" Bucky growled, only giving you a second to adjust before he started to move with slow, deep strokes. "Lemme make love to my babygirl, ya tak sil'no tebya lyublyu" [I love you so much]

After Bucky had been rescued, he had no reason to speak Russian, letting the others think it'd been wiped away just like the words that controlled him. Around you, it rolled off his tongue with ease, your pussy dripping each time he whispered in your ear. Your eyes rolled back feeling him hit that spongy spot deep in your pussy, crying out with the powerful, deliberate snaps of his hips.

"M'I making you feel good baby?" He asked, kissing you sweetly, alternating between the sweetheart and heartbreaker he was, looking at you with soft puppy eyes while his cock grew harder watching your face twist with pleasure. His jaw was slack, thrusting with purpose, moving his hips to roll and let you feel every inch of him filling you up, "You look gorgeous with my cock in you angel, wish you could see how pretty you are, so beautiful like this"

"Oh god James! P-please-m'so close-dont-don-t stop" Your moans grew more salacious, unable to say much else, eyes shutting out of pleasure feeling his hand coming down to rub your swollen clit.

"I know baby, I know, you need me to rub this pretty button, Remember the first time I touched you there pretty girl? How badly you wanted to scream, how much you squirted all over me? Remember when we first made love? First time I tasted you? Remember how shy you were when I spread your legs open and nursed off that little button. How you turned into a slutty kitten, riding and humping my face after? Know your needy little clit loves it, m'gonna rub you till you're screaming"

"Buckyyy" You whined, your face feeling hot at the memory, remembering his growls from under you, turning around to find him jerking his cock faster while he licked and sucked your pussy, cum already painting his abs from cumming once, working to a second orgasm. He'd sealed his lips around your clit, stuffing his mask in your mouth to keep you from alerting the guards.

"Baby, c'mon open your eyes, look at me" Bucky nipped your jaw, his cold hand coming to grasp your cheeks, blue eyes staring into your soul as you opened your eyes, "Don't you dare close them baby, keep em' open when I'm fuckin' you, shit, m'gonna cum for you doll"

"B-Bucky!" You cried, struggling to hold off any longer, your juices soaked him as you started to clench and squeeze his cock, tears nearly streaming down your face.

"Scream all you want baby, don't have to hide those pretty moans ever again" He fucked you through your orgasm, his own balls getting tighter with each thrust, precum mixing with your arousal, dripping onto the sheets, "Thats-that-s it baby, m'gonna cum so hard for you, fill you up, you're mine doll, you're fuckin' MINE"

Bucky's hand flew to the headboard, pounding you into the mattress, moaning loudly, letting the wood splinter under his grip as he came, pumping you full of his seed.

"FUCK y/n" He gasped, collapsing on you, panting, burying his face into your breasts as he always did, turning into a needy baby as if he didn't rail your soul. You giggled, tracing your hand down his spine making his shiver, whining when you clenched around his sensitive, soft cock.

"My soldat" You whispered, carding your fingers through his hair, letting him latch onto your nipple, needily sucking for comfort. No matter how big, bad and scary he was, he always melted into a puddle for you, closing his eyes at the feeling of your sweet peaked nipple against his tongue.

"Never letting you go again" He whispered before falling asleep on your chest, arms wrapped tightly around you. "ty moya rodstvennaya dusha, malyshka" [you're my soul mate, babygirl]

"YA by proshel cherez vse eto snova tol'ko radi tebya, malysh" [I'd go through it all again just for you baby boy] you whispered, closing your eyes in the safety of his hold, meaning each of your words. You'd go through everything a thousand times over if it meant you'd have your Bucky back in your arms. Bucky sniffled, curling up with you, spending the rest of the day alternating between speaking sweet words and making you moan and cry over his cock until you couldn't move any longer. For the first time, he slept peacefully, not stirring once.

Ever since you'd come back, Bucky had turned into the biggest simp, alternating between acting like a menace and a complete lovesick puppy with no in between. It was worse when you were on the field, almost leading to Tony refusing to let you both go on missions at the same time.

"Oh god" Bucky groaned, seeing you step out in your sleek suit, the dark material clinging to your body, weapons strapped along your hips. You threw him a wink before running off to kick ass, his focus solely on you.

"Jesus Christ" He nearly moaned seeing you land a kick to an attacker before throwing you knife across the room, the blade landing perfectly between your targets eyebrows. "Baby, you're sexy"

"For fucks Sake Barnes, did you forget we can all hear you" Tony's exasperated voice crackled through, this not being the first time the soldier was distracted watching you fight. Sam and Steve snickered through the coms while Bucky shameless shrugged, still biting his lip, watching you move with ease.

"Have you seen my girl, Stark" Bucky sassed back, walking over bodies to grab you by your ass, squeezing it and smashing his lips against yours.

"Are you two fucking kissing?!" Tony sighed, hearing the sound of soft moans and smacking, "I'm putting you on a fucking leash, I'm getting you fixed Barnes"

"My naughty soldat" You giggled, pulling away, nipping your boyfriends pouty lip while he shook his head.

"Gonna be the death of me, pretty girl"

"You're both gonna be the death of all of us" Tony deadpanned, unable to understand how there was a man out there that was more horny and flirty than him. "I'm having Barnes neutered, for fucks sake I can see you drooling from over here"

Bucky was even worse watching you display your skills, his workout long forgotten while you sparred with Steve.

"Where the fuck did you learn that" Steve groaned while you giggled, holding your hand out to help him up while Bucky watched from the side with a cocky smirk.

"I taught her that" He threw you a wink, not so subtly adjusting his sweats.

"Of course you did" Steve huffed, surprised to find bruises on his body from where you'd hit him. "Jesus punk" He blushed heavily seeing his bestfriends raging hard on, scrambling away from the gym, knowing exactly what would come next.

The loud moans he heard moments later made him shake his head, happy he got out of there unlike the last time he saw the warning signs of a feral Bucky.

Aside from being more in love with you than ever, Bucky was also equally protective over you. He'd hug you with such care, always holding your head to his chest, his large arms covering you from the rest of the world, constantly fearing that even if he had you now, someone would come and take you away.

When he finally asked you to marry him, he paused several times, blinking through tears while down on one knee, your hand wiping his cheek, saying yes before he could even finish. The compound was transformed with flowers, candles with a small intimate wedding in the garden.

Steve and Sam stood by Bucky's side while Nat walked with you, your sweet soon to be husband biting back tears seeing his dream girl in her dress, the life he'd always imagine finally becoming a reality. When Tony pronounced you husband and wife, Bucky didn't stop kissing you till he nearly passed out, not a single dry eye surrounding you as he whisked you up in his arms.

Bucky felt a strong wave of emotion watching you flit around the kitchen, making his way over and wrapping his arms from behind, tucking his face into your neck. You blinked, feeling tears wet your skin, pulling away to find your husband sniffling.

"Baby, what's gotten into you" You cooed with concern, wiping away the tears that collected along his lashes, kissing his reddened nose. "Is everything okay?"

"Just-m'scared to lose you again" Bucky whispered, his hand coming to protectively wrap around your growing belly; you weren't showing much yet but he could still feel the little baby bump. "I can't loose you again angel, I can't go through that again"

"It won't happen Jamie" You wrapped your arms around his shoulders while he picked you up, setting you onto the counter before hiding against your neck again, hugging you tightly. "What's wrong baby, what's gotten you so scared"

"Can't believe I got you back. I got to marry my dream girl. We're starting a family, you're giving me a baby, I-it feels unreal. M'scared I'm gonna wake up and you'll-" He bit his lip, shuddering at the very thought, "You'll be gone"

"Baby boy look at me" You held his face again, making him look at you, "Would you ever let anyone take me from you again?"

Bucky looked horrifying, francially shaking his head, he'd burn the world to ashes before he let that happen.

"Never. Never angel, no one is taking you or our baby from me" He stated firmly while you hummed.

"See? I'll be just fine. I have my soldat" You whispered, melting against his chest. "No one can hurt me when I have my soldat"

Bucky finally relaxed, carrying you off to bed, his metal arm protecting your belly as he pulled the covers over you both. No one would ever take his little widow away again.

2K notes · View notes