#Frayed Knots

[fountainpenguin]

What's your fav [or one of your favorite] scenes in Frayed Knots and/or Origin of the Pixies?

Thanks for the Ask!

One of my favorite Origin chapters is Chapter 42, "The Unicorn Years." Sanderson is finally an adult and it shows in how he sticks up for himself and calls H.P. out on his procrastination habits. He's no longer the suck-up he used to be, and their duality is great:

I lay across my desk, hands grasping the far side. That's what I was doing when Sanderson pinged in. "How much have you written, sir?" he asked primly. He didn't try to suggest he'd been pushy and overbearing this morning, but the milkshake in his hand was a peace offering. That was obvious enough. "Um…" I looked down. "I have 'Hawkins, I like how you made square motions instead of pretty elf swirls' and 'Wilcox, if eggs didn't suck, you'd be an egg.' Um. It's a first draft." I think he muffled a snort. "And mine, sir?" "Oh… yeah. I forgot you were getting one too. I'll start it later." He shook the vanilla milkshake a bit, and I finally swiped it from his hand. "Compliments aren't my thing, Sanderson. And truthful critiques on Day 1 might shatter them. I'll get into the flow one of these days, but breaking the ice is hard. What did you tell them?" "Boss, I'm going to stop you right there because that would be plagiarism." He hovered behind my shoulder, sipping from his straw… then grabbed the papers from my desk and pinged away. Okay, wow. I flopped back in my chair, kicking up my legs. Knowing him like I did, there wasn't a doubt in my mind he was presenting those to Hawkins and Wilcox right now, articulate or not. Sanderson's a person who gets things done stupid early and then sits on his buns all week waiting for new instructions. I may struggle with procrastination, but at least I do useful stuff during said procrastination time. Who's more successful each day, I ask you. But, I got my preening circle after lunch on Friday. The instant they all left, I pinged to my office and scribbled my reports. It pleased me like nothing else to thrust those into Sanderson's hands when I saw him in the hall. "Here. Shove these in your uptight pouch and do a backflip, punk." "How many words?" he asked, scanning them. "400 apiece." "I wrote 800." He broke a smile when I yanked the reports back and smacked them at his head. Stupid punk kid.

^ This is quintessential Sanderson (to me)...

In "Unicorn Years," Sanderson finally recognizes his role as alpha retinue drone (i.e. that it's a legit high-ranking role in Fae society and his co-workers respect and report to him- it's not a fake title H.P. made up because of his separation anxiety).

That moment H.P. tells Sanderson the reason Hawkins and Wilcox are nervous is because they want to impress Sanderson, not him... That's /chef's kiss.

In the next chapter ("Letters and Numbers"), Sanderson cuts a deal with H.P. that he's willing to give up his alpha drone status as long as he gets to keep his music. I really like how I showed how Sanderson values his job, appreciates the status, and is good at this job all in one chapter before he throws it into the void. Love that for him.

Chapter 34 of Knots is a favorite. I really like the migration arcs, especially the recent one in the mid-30 chapters. I love when Anti-Cosmo mingles with other Anti-Fairies and speaks in Vatajasa. I love him asking his relatives for interspecies love life advice- It's such a contrast to H.P., who was tossed out of his family just for being born with freckles.

I like when he asks his nana about her Fairy ex-husband and she straight-up tells him that if he's into fairy wings, he's better off finding an Anti-Fairy willing to dress in costume. Such a slap in the face and it fuels him with stubborn rage.

I love how Anti-Cosmo flits around migration blatantly explaining to the reader all the convoluted reasons why he's totally not cheating on his betrothed. He's such a mess.

I love Prince Eastkal demanding that his anti-fairy counterpart be brought to meet him and Anti-Cosmo just stands there in shock at how rude and inappropriate it is to show up and expect Anti-Eastkal can drop everything to meet with him. It's not a big moment, but those hints of culture and Anti-Cosmo experiencing things that H.P. wouldn't think about in Origin are my favorites.

I like the conflict between Anti-Cosmo and Jorgen when Anti-Cosmo absolutely refuses to admit that he saved Prince Eastkal's life several chapters ago. I like Jorgen's dawning realization that Anti-Cosmo got arrested for being over the border... Jorgen's starting to put the pieces together.

I appreciate how Anti-Cosmo stands up for his culture and his friends but he's also just blatantly sexist because that's how he was raised in Anti-Fairy World.

The parallel of Anti-Cosmo calling out racial inequality H.P. is oblivious to while H.P. calls out gender inequality that A.C. overlooks really emphasizes that both societies are flawed and you can compare and contrast the cultures... I like the worldbuilding a lot.

[Cnt'd under the cut] -

I really like the scene at the end of Knots Chapter 35 where Anti-Cosmo visits H.P. to get a letter of recommendation for school :)

I like how Sanderson comes to the door all groggy and it's not even because he was sleeping, it's because he was carving soap sculptures.

I like Sanderson pausing before knocking on the wooden door to ask Anti-Cosmo if that will give him a migraine and Anti-Cosmo being surprised that Sanderson thought about that.

In Origin, H.P. regularly diminishes Sanderson's abilities in an attempt to deny connection and/or excuse his own neglect towards Sanderson. Anti-Cosmo gives Sanderson all the dues he's owed (and will continue to do so for the rest of the story).

In the 130 Prompts, Sanderson's relationship with A.C. is very complicated... so I like slipping in these foreshadowing clues so that when everything breaks loose later, you can see these hints of why Sanderson starts to waver in his loyalty and why Anti-Cosmo tolerates him.

I also like Sanderson's comment that if H.P. is "too busy to find out what Sanderson wants, he's too busy to be mad that Sanderson made his own decisions." Even sleepy, Sanderson is better at handling things than he's normally allowed to be- he is the alpha drone in the retinue, after all.

I love how Anti-Cosmo notices that H.P. went out of his way to design hotel rooms for Anti-Fairy visitors even though Anti-Fairies are banned from visiting. It foreshadows H.P.'s upcoming neutrality and we start leaning into the reasons why H.P. and Anti-Cosmo are future allies and friends- because H.P. (for all his horrendous cultural blunders) will still make the effort to cater to others' needs).

I love the entire concept of A.C. asking H.P. for a letter of rec even though they barely know each other. All those side mentions of babysitting from earlier chapters came back to pay off.

I love the breakfast scene, especially H.P. talking about Iris:

"If she was after money, she wouldn't have turned me down when I tried to court her. I'm very desirable. By the way, her toxic trait is that she roots for the Centipedes in saucerbee and their roster totally sucks. Other than that, she's pretty dazzled." "You're interested in courting her?" I asked, pulling back. "Oh. I thought you were a…" The Head Pixie turned to look at me again, stone-faced. "Be very careful in considering how you want to end that sentence, Anti-Cosmo."

H.P.'s choppy cadence (with all his random casual words) is my favorite to write. I also think it's hilarious that he's still pining after Iris but doesn't even ask A.C. to put in a good word for him to her (in return for the letter of rec). Instead, he just wants A.C. to help Iris network. It's the little things... He cares.

I love how A.C. is so smart and yet so oblivious. He spends the story thinkin the Pixie race is dying out. Absolute shock to him when he finds out their population is reproducing exponentially. My dude, how did you screw this one up. No one can be more wrong than you.

H.P. tells him to his face "I don't experience attraction" and A.C. twists that in his mind to mean "He's embarrassed to admit he likes someone." It's one of those little things that Anti-Wanda gets and A.C. doesn't. I love the A.W.-H.P. dynamic so much.

I really like the bit where Anti-Cosmo asks H.P. for interspecies romantic advice and H.P. turns a circle, clearly looking for something, leaves, then comes back with nothing. Just... dipped.

Literally everything about the A.C.-H.P. dynamic is comedy gold to me. There are a few specific instances where Anti-Cosmo gets to take shots at H.P. and embarrass him, but it's usually H.P. being snarky towards A.C. and it cracks me up. Look at them:

"Show affection someplace nice and she'll want to keep coming back. Don't be weird and kiss at the grocery store or in an old shed or you'll be stuck circling back around to it. And if you want something long-term to come out of this, then you'd better build a yidreamu. Traditionally it's the partner with the smaller lift who builds it, so…" He stopped then, surveying my crown. "… Yikes. Start clipping coupons, maybe." I reached up to graze my black crown with my fingertips, my face flushing dark with cold. I did have a pathetic lift, barely two finger widths above my head, but did he really have to say it? "Th-thank you for the advice… That's all I need to know, really."

I like how we had that previous chapter where Anti-Lance called H.P. out for being "a creep" towards the much younger Anti-Cosmo- which is very justified! But also, they just hang out like this:

"Back in the Spring of the Silver Silk, I placed a curse on you that prevents flowers from lasting more than one night under your roof. I believe we confirmed said curse was still active this past migration. Did you find the counter-spell?" "No. I just started keeping commelinas in my house because they die in like, one day anyway, so it's not a waste. I'm giving them a home." "Why do you bother replacing them?" The older pixie looked at me, caught off guard despite his practised pixie patience. I could tell. "Because it means I win. Here." He took one of the blue flowers from the vase and handed it to me. "For you." [...] "Your attention to detail is impeccable," I remarked, twirling the commelina in my hand. "Thanks. I'm imprisoned by obsessive compulsions, severe hyperfixations, and crippling executive dysfunction."

H.P. is so stubborn. He's so shocked that Anti-Cosmo would even ask him why he bothered. He's so blinded to his own quirks. It's great.

I like how H.P. straps Anti-Cosmo in a bungee cord harness and lets him steer his cloudship, but in the far future, Anti-Cosmo never lets Foop drive his cloudship. It's just a fun, dynamic chapter all around.

My writing style has improved a lot since I started this 'fic, but I still like Chapter 2. I really like how it opens with Anti-Cosmo being dragged down the hall by his foot and forced to commit emergency marsupial pouch-slicing rescue procedures.

I love starting longfics off with that reminder that you're in for something weird, so if you can't tolerate this splash of weirdness upfront, the rest of the 'fic won't be to your tastes either. Frayed Knots really throws you in and I like it for that.

#Anti-Cosmo #Head Pixie #Frayed Knots #ridwriting #FAIRIES! #asks #Anon #The bat with the hat #I'm wasp dad trash #Sanderson is neat #Origin of the Pixies #screenshots #Fairy Idol #Fairly Odd Baby #Long post #Crocus princess #We're Pixies! #Bat cube and associates

[renawaywithme]

I was also just wondering if you had a comprehensive list of all the scars the 2012 boys have in the tattered remains/frayed universe? I've been potentially drawing fanart of some of the scenes once I get my drawing tablet!

You... want to draw fanart of my fic

Ignore the whale noises in the background, that's just me casually sobbing that someone wants to do that 🤝

BUTTT since you asked, I probably should list all the scars because. There are a lot. I always wished they had more visible aftermaths for injuries, esp Leo, but since this is my fic - I can do what it want (within reason lol)

Spoilers below for the fic and canon series and trigger warning for injuries/scars.

2012

Leo has the most noticable scaring out of all his brothers! There is deep gouge marks on his right knee, sort of all over the place and just messy in general and the knee is slightly misshapened (due to it being crushed and then stabbed multiple times). His plastron also has three gouge marks across it from Shredder's gauntlets and there is a tiny scar on his throat from his throat being crushed/cut. Not noticeable unless he lifts his head up to show it. He also has scarring on his right shoulder that looks like shark teeth from being bit there.

Raph's left eye is a few shades lighter than his right because he's blind there! He also has a small spiral scar on the right side of his temple just under his mask from the brain worm cutting into his skin. Another brain worm scar is on his wrists and ankles! He rubbed off a lot of skin while struggling in the restraints and it left a mark. He also has a lot of scars on his knuckles from busting them open during fights and when I imagine him/write him, where that chip in his shell is there is also a wide scar across his shoulder that attaches it to the chip in his carapace, like a follow through. As for post his attack from Shredder, part of his carapace and plastron are missing and the chips also spread out like cracks. There's two holes in total!

Donnie had more so burns than lashes! His hands and forearms are pretty discoloured from chemical and heat burns. Also electrical burns on his head from the fourfold trap episode! But his mask largely covers that. This is only noticeable if you stand close to him so doubtful it would be seen in any art, but he has thin scarring all across his body from April ripping him apart! Sort of spiderwebs around him. It will come up at some point, but right now it just isn't notable in the fic. And then he recently cut his thigh open on the glass at the end of frayed so he would still have stitches from that.

Mikey, before the events of the book, has a spiderweb crack on the back of his shell from the letter falling on him from season one. And then he has a canine bite on his left arm from Rahzar. I just assumed his brothers were so focused on protecting him that he rarely got scarred since in my watch throughs, he got majorly hurt the least? Less visible scarring from shackles compared to Raph, but he still has some too. After... that chapter though??? Oh boy. With the bandages off, Mikey is now missing his right eye completely and the wound is scarred over. His shell is slightly cracked and the back of his thighs have minor scars as well. Bruising all over. Not having a good time rn.

Rise

Just because I'm already doing 2012, here are Rise as well! They have less scars to show they have had less battles and because like 2012 Donnie pointed out - they heal a lot faster so most of the listed marks are quite faint unless they are major/recurrent or you are really looking closely

Leo has small knicks on his shoulders from his odaci and katannas! He was clumsy with pulling them out and they left marks until he got more skilled. He also has scarring on his right wrist from the cuffs in season two. He was pulling and yanking on that thing like crazy. Scarring on his right knee now from Shredder slamming his gauntlet into his knee at the end of frayed and minor slashes from breaking through that window and cutting up his skin.

Raph has three slash marks at the top of his shell from defending Donnie from Shredder and it's slightly indented by Shredder stepping on it. His fists are also heavily scarred and his knuckles are constantly swollen and misshapened.

Donnie has slash marks on his soft shell from Shredder ripping into his battle shell and reaching his soft shell. He also has some burn and chemical scars from his lab and down the center of his plastron is a thin line from when SHELLDON tried to kill him and minor shackle marks on his wrists and ankles.

Mikey has a ton of tiny scars, mainly from skidding across the ground and cutting himself on glass/sharpnel. His shell is significantly scratched up from sliding against the ground as well/being thrown around.

-----

Anyways, hoped that all helps!! I am a huge fanatic of scars and normalizing them - I recently joined the Leo's with my own knee scars after needing two surgeries to fix it lol. If you do make fanart, PLEASE tag me so I can repost it and cry even louder LAHAKSHJSH ily and drink some water!!

#tmnt #tmnt 2012 #teenage mutant ninja turtles #teenage mutant ninja turtles 2012 #tattered remains #rottmnt #asks #scars #frayed knots #frayed

[marblegroves]

Last life charoite take 2! Feeling a lot better with this design ^^

#gemcyt #i personally really like the twisted legs ^^ #he’s tangled up 🤯 and neither half is letting go 🤯🤯🤯🤯 #or one half is holding the other hostage 🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯 #anyway the arm stripes are the second best thing to come out of this #second only to the legs of course #was also considering the possibility of the leg metaphor being the inverse #like normal charo=intertwined / LL charo=frayed #makes more sense since they’d be tripping all over the place with four legs flopping around🤔 #but idk i guess im ok with normal charo = loose / LL charo = tangled in knots #doodlegroves

[redwolf17]

Fanfic Awards- Voting Ends Soon!

FYI, there's Asoiaf fanfic awards going on at r/AsoiafFanfiction.

My main fic The Weirwood Queen has been nominated for Best Overall Fic, Best Original Character (Sister Edythe), Best Canon Ship (Jaime/Cersei), Most Interesting Plot, Best Overall Prose, and Best Worldbuilding.

My Frey oneshot, A Fraying Knot, has also been nominated for Best Original Character (Cersei "Little Bee" Frey).

You can cast your vote here. Voting ends 12/22 at 11pm Irish time.

#the weirwood queen #a fraying knot #house frey

[likesdoodling]

Fanart of ‘A Frayed Knot’ by JcFerggy

I actually did this a while ago, (for context, June last year-) but I didn’t have tumblr then, and I did not want the various relatives who follow my instagram account, (my grandparents included) to be concerned about why I was drawing someone whose eye had been clawed out. :) Yeah...

The premise for this fic is ‘think re-zero, but ascendance of a bookworm style ayy-’ the, ‘has the equivalent of a game save point but it keeps getting moved backwards, and oh yeah- the world needs some help to not die while we’re at it’

Anyway, I recently caught up to reading it again, (I would highly recommend it by the way, though a lot has happened since I drew this,) and I remembered, ‘Oh yeah! I have a tumblr account now! I should post that picture I did! The outfit isn’t really story accurate, I just really like the horror aspect of having a missing eye, and I had reference for a cool hanfu I also wanted to draw. If I remember correctly, she does have a cloak at the point this is set, but definitely not a hanfu. 

#shiromyne #a frayed knot #myne #ascendance of a bookworm #honzuki no gekokujou #myne fanart #fanfiction fanart #read it guys #its good #eyessss #yeah #book #rozemyne #or is it though? #probably not #eh #oh yeah #pencil sketch #i did this so long ago... #but i still like it #i mean #a few things i would change #but eh #like the hands #hand hacks #hide it behind something #works every time

[impossible-rat-babies]

I just. love the funny intersection eyrie has between DRK and WAR it just tickles my fancy

#it tickles my fancy in an angsty way #it’s like. there was plenty of grief there after haurchefant in HW until their head started getting ideas about deeper pains #old grief with bandages merely pilled up over festering wounds #and they couldn’t deal with it. they weren’t ready to face it #they would have nightmares about the daughter they lost and her asking them these difficult question #and they had no answers. no way of making it make sense. it tormented them #and it all just turned to anger and frustration. what could they do to satisfy their guilt? their grief? #they had no words. it was just rage rage rage #rage enough to drown out fray. rage enough to hopefully drown out the ghost of their daughter #rage enough to drown out the guilt of losing papalymo and the knotted tangle surrounding Ilberd #it’s so much of a shift that embodies denial but also embodies coping #they deny fray. they deny this part of themselves that seeks catharsis and care #it’s denying any softness for a path of destruction and frustration #the denial of softness being one of self harm. a self flagellation to make the pain mean something #there has to be a reason or a justification in general. a way to make it make sense #it goes hand in hand with their complex surrounding blame and taking responsibility when it’s not theirs to take #still puzzling out how it resolves itself in the end #it’s funny in StB how zenos recognizes the way they act but doesn’t truly grasp the motivation #oc: eyrie kisne #ANYWAY GOODNIGHT

[mrcspectr]

Anyway before I pass out, I offer you this little thought I had:

I think Jake would collect little toy cars. Not like Hot Wheels, I mean like high quality ones, maybe some antiques. And he leaves them all over Steven’s flat once he gets more comfortable fronting and being open around Marc and Steven. Marc and Steven start finding little lines of cars around the flat. Sometimes one of them fronts and sees a car with a little note under it that says something like, “This model reminds me of you.” Steven is fascinated by the little cars and encourages it. Marc is a little confused and wary at first but eventually he starts smiling whenever he notices a new one. Happy that Jake is feeling more comfortable.

I am.. almost always thinking about him working with his hands.

I don't necessarily believe that Jake is as deeply horrified by his capacity for violence as Marc is, he's lived a different kind of life with a conflicting perspective. But that doesn't mean I don't think he's been affected by what he's done. He still carries that with him, but he doesn't let it consume him in the same way that Marc does. I think it would be more.. restrained with Jake. Maybe there are times he notices he has too much nervous energy, like there's something crawling under his skin. Maybe occasionally, his hands would shake.

The tiny models would take up a lot of his concentration, and they'd be easy to hide, if he needed to. He could sit in the front seat of the car, the engine idling as he waits, fingers fiddling around, trying to fit the pieces together. There'd be a few times something breaks, and he considers smashing the whole thing against the dash and throwing it out the window. But he never does. He drives to the store and buys replacement parts, or glue, or he takes a piece of the blue tape in Steven's flat to make do.

Eventually, there'd be too many, and he doesn't want to make it suspicious so he starts to leave them places. On a park bench. The side of a sandbox for a child to find. Seated precariously on a tree branch overlooking the sidewalk. Hidden, sure, but not well. (He knows how to hide, and he'd do it better if he actually cared to.) The fun was in the discovery, Jake parked a few feet away with the windows down, enjoying the breeze and (although he wouldn't dare admit it), the looks on passing faces.

Someday, he'd like to leave one for Marc or Steven. He wonders what their face would look like.

#steven's anxiety explodes out of him at all angles #a body constantly in motion #lungs trapped behind a ribcage getting smaller and smaller #marc's is like lava #pooling at his feet and bubbling up through him slowly painfully #until it occupies every free space in his body #possessing him #jake's crawls under his skin #a thousand mites biting away at him chipping away at his control #slow but insistent #and then there's a frayed thread connecting the three of them #sometimes knotted sometimes overlapping sometimes simply tearing apart at the edges #sorry i don't know what the fuck happened here really #tankycinna #asks

[eridan-ampora]

her: can you please stop sending me pictures of rope.

me:

#gray.txt #frayed this joke is knot funny

[violetsandfluff]

#the way my vocal cords are now frayed knots #little freak #my voice

[cvpiidbiites]

                       ❛ tᥲbᥣᥱ ᥆f ᥴ᥆ᥒtᥱᥒt᥉ for Frayed Golden Knot ❜

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

                       ❖ O1 . . . . . . . . . . . intro.

                       ❖ O2 . . . . . . . . . . . Reading Tags.

                       ❖ O3 . . . . . . . . . . . Character List.

                       ❖ O4 . . . . . . . . . . . Relationship Summery.

                       ❖ O5 . . . . . . . . . . . ending.

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

                       ❖ O1 . . . . . . . . . . . intro.

                      ➼ Running away to become the greatest pirate of the star seas                       wasn't the weirdest thing. Running away to become the greatest pirate                       of the star seas with a Vespidan Guard after convincing her to betray her                       queen is the weird part. However watching your 'loved one' slowly sink in                       your burning ship from a robbery gone wrong, with you screaming you'll                       be back with help only to have her watch you run away from her failed                       attempt to fake her death and take your treasures back to her queen is                       the even weirder part. Now here you are on a chase around the world                       trying get your crazy ex off your trail all for a golden ring she wants to                       give to her queen.

                       ❖ O2 . . . . . . . . . . . Reading Tags.

                      ➼ Vengeful Lesbians, lovers to enemies, one sided love, heartbreak,                          miscommunication, betrayal, unhealthy relationship, found                          family turned into abandonment issues, "I wish you still love me" x                          "I never did.", "Do you think we're soul mates in another universe" x                         "I hope we aren't.", unrequited love, doomed yuri

                       ❖ O3 . . . . . . . . . . . Character List.

                      ➼ Dúlamán a water and Captain of the ship S.S.S Cruiser, S.S. Cruiser                          was their old ship till their ex took it. Thief/Rough Pirate who cant                           keep their hands to themself when they see shiny! Shark teeth and                           fins on their neck that are usually hidden under all the jewelry they                           wear.                       ➼ Cebe, a Vespidan knight who vowed her loyalty to her queen Bee.                          A master manipulator who used the feelings of Dúlamán to get a free                           ride across the seas in search of treasure to take back home to her                           true love, the queen in hopes of her accepting her marriage proposal.                           

                       ❖ O4 . . . . . . . . . . . Relationship Summery.

                      ➼ BEHIND THE PAIRING — Dúlamán and Cebe were partners                           in crime, Bonny and Clyde type of lovers in Dúlamán's eyes. Cebe                           truly never cared about Dúlamán so when there was a chance to                           slip out and fake her own death she tried. A 'tragic' boat robbing                           gone wrong only to cause their actual boat to sink, Dúlamán                           thinking their lover is dying leaves to get help, holding onto the                           ring they were planning on proposing to Cebe. The one thing Cebe                           wanted, thinking she was 'wrongfully' stolen from she vowed to                           chased Dúlamán down and take 'her' ring back.

#cvpiid's oc #cvpiid's Dúlamán #cvpiid's Frayed Golden Knot

[fountainpenguin]

Frayed Knots 15,14,9,2

[Current Ask game]

Frayed Knots - Read on FNN || Read on AO3

#ridspoilers

---

15: What did you learn from writing this fic?

My pacing's improved in more recent projects. Knots is pretty bogged down with things that still make me cringe, but it's also like that intentionally because it's Anti-Cosmo's bragging time and he takes pride in his memory and culture (plus he's long-winded in general and I wanted to reflect that). Still, I don't write in that style anymore (except for Knots since it's still ongoing, of course).

This 'fic was also my first (and only) long-term project with British English phrases and spellings, so I learned how to efficiently work as closely to that as I can despite not being a native user of those words.

I'm personally pleased with my success in creating a culture for the Anti-Fairies that's unique to them and completely at odds with Fairy World, but I acknowledge that the nature spirit stuff might not be everyone's cup of tea when they come to read a Fairly OddParents story, so I try to balance that.

There are a lot of little details in their culture that I really like, like Anti-Cosmo's claim that he's descended from the Teumessian fox and that he'd be an outcast if he shapeshifts into any animal besides a fox. Anti-Cosmo uses VERY little magic for the majority of Frayed Knots (using most of it during the war, and only when he has to) and I love both his attachment to his culture and the mental gymnastics he does every time he breaks the social norms.

I'm happy with how the Anti-Fairy culture came out, but it's also pretty far from the established canon and my interest tends to be higher when I'm working on something that's canon-compliant (such as writing a scene a character referenced off-hand in present day, or fleshing out the Wanda/Juandissimo relationship, or doing character studies), so... read that however you like.

[Cnt'd under the cut; content warning for mild 'adult themes' discussion]

tbh I've also enjoyed worldbuilding a fantasy sociosexual culture, because I thought it would be an interesting challenge that would add drastic context between Fairies and Anti-Fairies while also fitting well with their bat genetics and their social norms of accepting things that many Fairies recoil from.

Ex: You're much more likely to accept bullying and theft as acceptable behavior if your social norms already permit a flock hierarchy of creche fathers fighting for dominance. It's easy to be at odds with Fairy World when they mock your cultural beliefs, such as by insisting that Anti-Fairies are a shadow of their Fairy counterparts and wouldn't exist without Fairies, when clearly all the proof points to Anti-Fairies being unique creatures of smoke that grow attached to other creatures and reflect their appearance because of it.

Since the Anti-Fairies are antagonists in the show, I wanted to set up the appropriately "cruel and evil" vibe of their modern leadership while ensuring there's justification in their culture to explain why people might turn towards a leader who embodies strength.

Mm, I'd also say I learned I don't enjoy this vibe of romance? I don't hate romance... I just either need it to be blatantly shallow or deep and complicated in a way that's amusing. The late part of the A.C. and A.W. relationship is super messy, which fixes the boredom for me, but I don't love how these early stages are working out.

In the original draft, A.C. and A.W. barely interact until their honey-lock, which would be about 40-50 chapters in. Well, probably less since we can cut most of the Anti-Wanda content from the story. I personally feel like "barely interacting until they're pushed together" fits their personalities a lot better than meeting in their youth, but... I genuinely didn't think people would have the patience for that, so I adjusted Knots to include Anti-Wanda scenes earlier.

It's probably the right call, and maybe some people enjoy the romantic bits more than I do, but they just read as cliche to me so I struggle with liking them. There are a lot of romance tropes I dislike (such as denying your attraction in front of others) and the romantic side of Knots doesn't vibe with me the way that the "animal people politics" parts do, but I do my best.

I'm satisfied with the character goals Anti-Wanda has so she has actual stuff going on in her life (including emotionally rough and some very messed-up stuff). If these were my OCs then I think Frayed Knots would be what it is without the Anti-Wanda ship at all (and/or she'd be sprinkled in occasionally until she shows up during the honey-lock for real), because I think that's my preferred romance story for them. I don't really vibe with them hanging around each other for so many years; it just feels forced to me.

Also Anti-Wanda can do better.

14: Is there anything you wanted readers to learn from reading this fic?

I hope it's obvious that I'm writing an evil villain backstory and that there are many, many things in this story that should not be glorified. Anti-Cosmo makes some seriously messed-up decisions throughout this 'fic, which is written for entertainment and not to be a guide for healthy relationships.

Same goes for Origin. Everyone sees themself as the hero of their own story. If you forget they're canonically the villains and they do some messed-up stuff that I would never condone IRL, I will cry.

Honestly if anyone's learned to love the Pixies, I'd be happy. Especially H.P. <3

Also if anyone develops an affection for the episode "Balance of Flour" and the characters in it, I'd like that. Anti-Bryndin makes his only appearance in this episode. No name, no dialogue, no context... but he's my boy.

Also, even though neither H.P., Sanderson, nor Anti-Cosmo is a ""good and correct"" representation of asexuality (i.e. in terms of healthy relationships), they are still ace. If anyone has learned more about asexuality through this 'fic (either from H.P. working out his feelings or because they were exposed to the concept here and did more research on their own), I'd be content with that.

9: Were there any alternate versions of this fic?

Yeah, you could say that. The official scrap doc for Knots alone is 25k words right now. It grows regularly, and that doesn't include the existing chapter drafts.

Perhaps the biggest change is that in the first draft, Anti-Cosmo's dad is alive, but walked out on his family. I do miss that. Once you commit to killing a parent when your protag is a baby, it's difficult to give them baggage or messy relationships with said person, who frequently gets romanticized. A.C. is absolutely romanticizing the father he never knew, who wasn't as great a person as he likes to think.

Another massive change was that originally, Anti-Cosmo's parents lived in a manor house. They were nobility, but didn't live in the castle. Anti-Bryndin was leader, but flock dynamics didn't exist in the worldbuilding so there wasn't any reason for them to live in the castle. The reason Anti-Cosmo lives in the castle in Knots right now is because his mother was brought under Anti-Bryndin's wing and she gave birth to both her children there.

I very briefly considered Anti-Wanda as heir apparent to Anti-Fairy World and Anti-Cosmo married into the family and that's how he rose to power. That's actually the world my short story "King Me" takes place in, and hopefully I'll be able to get it to a state I'm happy with so I can share it soon. It was drafted back in 2016. It's waited this long; it can wait until it feels right.

Oh. The earliest draft of Origin of the Pixies didn't have Anti-Cosmo show up until Anti-Sanderson had taken over as leader of the anti-pixies, and H.P. had to request permission to cross into Anti-Fairy World to talk with him.

I would say my happiest change in all my FOP works was switching that so H.P. and A.C. interact a ton more in their younger years (although if you look carefully at my earliest pieces like "Open Your Eyes," I think it shows that they were written for a world where A.C. and H.P. barely interacted).

Theeeeee other big change I could mention is Anti-Cosmo's.... ?? friendship? affair?? interaction with Prince Eastkal after the chapter "Deep" (where A.C. saves Eastkal's life and begs him not to confess, for the whole "I'll be disowned if they find out I shapeshifted into a dragon" bit).

In the current version, A.C. gets distracted [cough] and fails to meet the prince as promised. This leads Eastkal to pursue him several chapters later, with Eastkal making multiple attempts to talk to A.C. during "This Close to Heaven", "Floodgates," and "Crossroads". It works, but... it saddens me because this is not the attitude Eastkal has towards Anti-Cosmo in future chapters, which were drafted years ago with the assumption that they met up right after the dragon fight :/ I like the vibe of the first better and regularly wish I hadn't cut it.

Actually, that's another thing I've learned from Knots (and I even wrote a Tumblr post about this months ago before setting it aside under the belief no one would want to hear my vent about it). I cut that scene hoping it would be better for the story's flow and because I was tired and wanted to get to the zoo stuff, but since this is my fanfic I write for fun, I should've just let myself follow the direction I wanted to go. It's frustrating to want to write characters behaving a certain way because of what that cut scene would have done, and then having to change it back to what's "actually canon."

In my first draft, A.C. did meet Eastkal as planned (in the Pink Castle) and it involves a lot of soul-searching on both their behalfs. In current Knots, Eastkal does feel grateful that A.C. saved his life, but boy do I miss the dialogue of the original scene.

I cut the main scene because it was several thousand words on top of a very long chapter... I'd already split "Deep" into... 5 chapters at that point? And I really wanted to wrap up Arc 2 without struggling with another chapter, especially if it might wreck "the vibes." I convinced myself it broke the tension (Going from dragon attack to peace and then zoo), but it's the scene I regret cutting most, because there have been multiple times this year that I've wished it was there because I think it's important to show how A.C. acts (and because I think the scene's hilarious).

This cut meeting inspired Eastkal's attendance during migration season. Frayed Knots can work around not having that scene, but if I can mimic it, that would be nice. The lame part is that it probably would've been nicer right after the rescue, to increase tension of being caught fraternizing with the enemy. I'm trying to find a place for it that's not too near the war.

On reason Knots has been delayed so long because I've been looking for a good way to fit it back in to the timeline, but it was very specifically written for that scene, in that location, so it's rough. There's that and because Cosmo and Wanda are about to become notable, and I don't want to mess up this first meeting between A.C. and Cosmo), so... it'll come! Just been on a necessary hiatus.

I also have a scrapped scene where Anti-Cosmo babysits a nest of spirit eggs, but that got cut because the story is long enough without it. There's a lot of spirit stuff in the second half of Knots and I'm trying to decide how much should be cut... I'd like to end it sooner rather than later. Definitely hoping to post more regularly in 2024.

2. What scene did you first put down?

I think the earliest scene in the story was originally going to be its opening: Anti-Cosmo watching his father pack his suitcase as he prepares to walk out on the family. It would predate my scrap doc, but I might have salvaged something.

Mmm, I didn't find it atm, but I think it was rewritten into a very rough draft of A.C. reacting to his brother leaving shortly after their father's death.

“You’re leaving?” I asked, clinging to the door. “Of course,” he snorted. “The green needs me now more than ever.” “But then I’ll be left alone with Mother.” I glared at the ground. Anti-Schnozmo rubbed my hair, kissed my forehead, and then swept out the door. When I was young, I didn’t understand why we lived in the castle. But I was a smart pup, so I began to put the pieces together, of all the times I’d walked in on Anti-Bryndin kissing my mother.

^ Obviously a very rough version, but a lot of my drafts are this vague to get the story beats down before I flesh them out over weeks, months, or even years.

With polish, I think this would have made a great opening to Knots as well since it immediately sets up A.C.'s difficult relationship with Anti-Schnozmo, that his dad is dead, that he doesn't want to be left with his mom, A-Schnoz's motivations to carry out his father's legacy, and one of the core themes of Knots which is Anti-Cosmo's desire to be wanted.

The current opening of the story is there to establish worldbuilding, especially with the newborn smoke forms (something Anti-Fairies and Fairies can't see eye to eye on). The first chapter is pretty confusing and if I were writing commercially, I think I'd go with the brother walking out. But I wanted to write a longform 'fic about complicated worldbuilding and Anti-Fairy culture and that's exactly what I did, with the establishing shot to open it.

Thanks for reading! Hopefully these were interesting thoughts. Ask box is always open if anyone wants to ask more stuff like this; a lot of the time I tag these things as "director's cut" and I do enjoy sharing what the alt versions of my stories were.

[Current Ask game]

#Fairly OddParents #FOP #Anti-Cosmo #Frayed Knots #The bat with the hat #The best bat queen #ridwriting #Director's cut #Long post #asks #Anon #Ask box games #Dragonfly parents

[renawaywithme]

I don't think. I've ever been so emotional reading an Fic. I think I've lost count of how many times I've been brought to tears reading these, which is a good thing!! I just joined the TMNT fandom after watching the 2012 show. I just happened to come across Tattered Remains and Frayed and I don't think I can express how absolutely amazing it is. The Storytelling. The raw emotions. Everything is just so AMAZING!!! I'm in absolute love with it and I'm obsessed with these fics. Just the characterization of the 2012 turtles oh man, having them darker than their actual show counterparts is amazing! I can't wait for future chapters and to read more. I love these boys so much and I can only hope things turn out well for them.

KAJKSJSKSHS THANK YOU SO MUCH

Making the 2012 boys slightly... darker?? Was a risk I wanted to take while being in college and learning about trauma. They've never had a real break to work through those issues or heal and a lot of times when people are just constantly running, they don't see how tired they are until they stop. And yes, despite everything they are going through, they will have a happy ending ‼️ I am huge for hurt/comfort tropes, no pain, no gain. Thank you so much for supporting the story and liking it as much as I have liked writing it!

#tmnt #tmnt 2012 #teenage mutant ninja turtles #teenage mutant ninja turtles 2012 #tattered remains #fanfic #rottmnt #asks #frayed knots

[vinceaddams]

Any tips on learning to make buttonholes? I've been putting it off for.... *checks notes* like three years.... but better late than never and all that. I don't have any fancy machines so I gotta do it by hand but that seems right up your alley.

Thanks!

It IS up my alley, yes, I do most of my buttonholes by hand!

I'm actually part way through filming an 18th century buttonhole tutorial, but I expect it'll be a few more weeks before I finish that and put it on the youtubes, so in the meantime here's the very very short version. (The long version is looking like it'll probably be about 40 minutes maybe, judging by how much script I've written compared to my last video?)

Mark your line, a bit longer than your button is wide. I usually use a graphite mechanical pencil on light fabrics, and a light coloured pencil crayon on dark ones. (I have fabric pencils too, but they're much softer and leave a thicker line.) You may want to baste the layers together around all the marked buttonholes if you're working on something big and the layers are shifty and slippery. I'm not basting here because this is just a pants placket.

Do a little running stitch (or perhaps a running backstitch) in fine thread around the line at the width you want the finished buttonhole to be. This holds the layers of fabric together and acts as a nice little guide for when you do the buttonhole stitches.

Cut along the marked line using a buttonhole cutter, or a woodworking chisel. Glossy magazines are the best surface to put underneath your work as you push down, and you can give it a little tap with a rubber mallet if it's not going through all the way.

I'm aware that there are some people who cut their buttonholes open using seam rippers, and if any of them are reading this please know that that is abhorrent behaviour and I need you to stop it immediately. Stop it.

Go get a buttonhole cutter for 10 bucks and your life will be better for it. Or go to the nearest hardware store and get a little woodworking chisel. This includes machine buttonholes, use the buttonhole cutter on them too. If you continue to cut open buttonholes with a seam ripper after reading this you are personally responsible for at least 3 of the grey hairs on my head.

Do a whipstitch around the cut edges, to help prevent fraying while you work and to keep all those threads out of the way. (For my everyday shirts I usually do a machine buttonhole instead of this step, and then just hand stitch over it, because it's a bit faster and a lot sturdier on the thin fabrics.)

I like to mark out my button locations at this point, because I can mark them through the holes without the buttonhole stitches getting in the way.

For the actual buttonhole stitches it's really nice if you have silk buttonhole twist, but I usually use those little balls of DMC cotton pearl/perle because it's cheap and a good weight. NOT stranded embroidery floss, no separate strands! It's got to be one smooth twisted thing!

Here's a comparison pic between silk buttonhole twist (left) and cotton pearl (right). Both can make nice looking buttonholes, but the silk is a bit nicer to work with and the knots line up more smoothly.

I've actually only used the silk for one garment ever, but am going to try to do it more often on my nicer things. I find the cotton holds up well enough to daily wear though, despite being not ideal. The buttonholes are never the first part of my garments to wear out.

I cut a piece of about one arm's length more or less, depending on the size of buttonhole. For any hole longer than about 4cm I use 2 threads, one to do each side, because the end gets very frayed and scruffy by the time you've put it through the fabric that many times.

I wax about 2cm of the tip (Not the entire thread. I wax the outlining/overcasting thread but not the buttonhole thread itself.) to make it stick in the fabric better when I start off the thread. I don't tend to tie it, I just do a couple of stabstitches or backstitches and it holds well. (I'm generally very thorough with tying off my threads when it comes to hand sewing, but a buttonhole is basically a long row of knots, so it's pretty sturdy.)

Put the needle through underneath, with the tip coming up right along that little outline you sewed earlier. And I personally like to take the ends that are already in my hand and wrap them around the tip of the needle like so, but a lot of people loop the other end up around the other way, so here's a link to a buttonhole video with that method. Try both and see which one you prefer, the resulting knot is the same either way.

Sometimes I can pull the thread from the end near the needle and have the stitch look nice, but often I grab it closer to the base and give it a little wiggle to nestle it into place. This is more necessary with the cotton than it is with the silk.

The knot should be on top of the cut edge of the fabric, not in front of it.

You can put your stitches further apart than I do if you want, they'll still work if they've got little gaps in between them.

Keep going up that edge and when you get to the end you can either flip immediately to the other side and start back down again, or you can do a bar tack. (You can also fan out the stitches around the end if you want, but I don't like to anymore because I think the rectangular ends look nicer.)

Here's a bar tack vs. no bar tack sample. They just make it look more sharp, and they reinforce the ends.

For a bar tack do a few long stitches across the entire end.

And then do buttonhole stitches on top of those long stitches. I also like to snag a tiny bit of the fabric underneath.

Then stick the needle down into the fabric right where you ended that last stitch on the corner of the bar tack, so you don't pull that corner out of shape, and then just go back to making buttonhole stitches down the other side.

Then do the second bar tack once you get back to the end.

To finish off my thread I make it sticky with a bit more beeswax, waxing it as close to the fabric as I can get, and then bring it through to the back and pull it underneath the stitches down one side and trim it off.

In my experience it stays put perfectly well this way without tying it off.

Voila! An beautiful buttonholes!

If you want keyhole ones you can clip or punch a little rounded bit at one end of the cut and fan your stitches out around that and only do the bar tack at one end, like I did on my 1830's dressing gown.

(I won't do that style in my video though, because they're not 18th century.)

Do samples before doing them on a garment! Do as many practice ones as you need to, it takes a while for them to get good! Mine did not look this nice 10 years ago.

Your first one will probably look pretty bad, but your hundredth will be much better!

Edit: Video finished!

And here's the blog post, which is mostly a slightly longer version of this post.

#ask #buttonholes #sewing #hand sewing #sewing tutorial #I've been procrastinating on the video this week #I want it done! I don't want to work on it I want new projects! I want to cut out more gloves! #currently forcing myself to do the last few buttonholes on these pants and then maybe I can cut out new gloves? as a treat? #but I hope I get some filming done tomorrow too

[feathertailedcentipede]

upsizing a buncha my old clothes using grungy patchwork & it fucking rules

but I've realised a potential issue. since I cut up the same printed fabrics for patchwork, a lot of my clothes & accessories are gonna look similar due to having the Exact same materials.

is this a win? do I reside myself to owning multiple matching items of clothing now? or do I put in the effort to Not pair these clothes together? much to think about...

#I say grungy bc it's all like. massive hand-sewn ladder stiches with visible fraying & knots etc. #it's simple‚ takes time but low energy‚ and I get to call it a fashion statement

[peachdues]

IN THE NETHERWOOD

PART II

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

PART I HERE

A/N: I would apologize for the utter lack of plot, but we all know why you're here. You can have plot later; for now, enjoy some 9.5k words of pure monster porn. 13.4k words total.

CW: explicit sexual content • MDNI • werewolf fucking x F!Reader • knotting/mating • breeding • tummy bulging • so many creampies • like a concerning amount of cum • Sanemi half-transforms and has fangs/claws • slight blood mention • spit kink • oral sex (F!receiving) • Reader gets fucked stupid tbh • mildly violent/potentially upsetting content at the end but I don’t want to give anything away

You awoke the next morning not upon a bed of pine needles or curled against an overlarge piece of driftwood but cushioned against warm skin and rocky muscle.

Your eyes fluttered open, squinting against the watery light of morning, having not seen the sun since you’d first entered the Netherwood more than a week earlier. But the clearing by the river Sanemi had led you to the previous night meant fewer trees, and so, the dull gray of morning was visible above your heads where you’d slept curled atop the Huntsman’s broad chest.

You rolled your head against his sternum, peering up at the soundly sleeping Woodsman, admiring the peaceful serenity of his slumbering face.

His chest rose and fell steadily as he dreamed, and you could not stop yourself from allowing your hands to wander, to explore this Wolf who was to be your mate.

Your fingers began at his forehead, brushing his silvery strands back and exposing the cross-crossed scars lanced across his forehead. You traced each one, marveling at the shiny, smooth texture beneath your fingertips.

You danced your fingers over and down the features of his face and to the hollow of this throat. You then ventured lower, grazing over the thick scars rippling across the exposed portion his chest.

With a hard swallow, you allowed your hand to drop lower, teasingly traipsing down the ridges of his abdomen until you came to the waistband of his breeches.

Your eyes lowered to the seam of his pants, breath lodging in your throat at the rigid bulge that had formed at his groin.

You held your breath as your hand graced lower, your curiosity a tug in your gut not capable of being ignored.

Before you could brush your hand against the bulge, a warm hand snagged around your wrist, halting it in mid-air.

“Lamb,” Sanemi’s voice was thick with sleep but full of warning. “May I ask what you’re doing?”

Feeling bold, you threw a leg over Sanemi’s hips, rolling yourself atop him and pressing your groin flush against his, breath hitching as the rigid formation in his pants brushed against the sensitive spot between your legs.

“Wolf,” You mocked his tone, though your breaths were jerky and short. “Touch me again.”

A low growl reverberated from Sanemi’s throat, his fingers digging into the plush of your thigh, though you could not tell whether it was out of his wavering restraint or mounting desire.

When he did not move his hands, you bucked your hips against his, pushing against his groin in impatient demand.

Your name fell from his lips, choked and guttural. “If you keep doing that,” he ground out through clenched teeth. “I will not be able to stop myself.”

You leaned forward, lips grazing the vein protruding in his neck, savoring the way it thrummed under your touch. The blunt tips of Sanemi’s nails bit into your skin as he snarled against your neck.

You only smirked at his fraying restraint. “Then don’t.”

Sanemi gently but reluctantly pushed you off him, though his hands lingered against your waist, his fingers tracing circles.

“Didn’t your grandmother warn you never to provoke a hungry beast?”

“She may have, once,” you conceded with a sly grin, your fingers slipping below the waist of Sanemi’s breeches to tug him forward so that his hips were pressed against yours once more. “But I was never particularly good at listening.”

“A bad habit you’ve carried with you into the Wood, it seems,” the Huntsman agreed. “And you’ve made me quite ravenous, little Lamb.”

You squeaked as Sanemi’s hands braced around your waist and he promptly lifted you off him and plopped you unceremoniously on the pebbled shore beside him.

“But I, unlike you, possess a morsel of self-control.” He shot you a sly grin. “I can wait until we get to my den.”

“You certainly had no compunctions when it came to tasting me last night.” You grumbled.

Sanemi lifted an eyebrow as his lips quirked up in a smirk of his own. “And taste you again I shall,” he purred, sitting up. “But I want you spread out across across the floor of my den — not here, in the open.”

Sanemi rose to his feet and swiftly began gathering your supplies, preparing for the trek ahead.

“How is your wound?” He called conversationally as he fastened his traveling cloak around his shoulders.

You’d not given much thought to the gash Kaigaku had inflicted upon you the day before, and your stomach dipped at the thought of your skin stretching around the tender flesh.

Only, to your slight confusion, you really felt no pain at all; none of that burning, sharp aching you’d felt all the previous night until Sanemi had distracted you with his wicked fingers and even more wicked tongue.

“My leg!” You gasped, your skirts bunched in your hands as you pulled them back, damning propriety as you exposed its bare length to the Huntsman.

To your shock, all that remained of the wound inflicted by Kaigaku’s knife was a thin, reddish scar, as though the injury was several weeks old as opposed to mere hours.

You pressed the tips of your fingers against the thin stripe of skin, testing it. “It does not hurt, either!”

You looked back to Sanemi though he seemed nonplussed in contrast to your wide-eyed bewilderment.

“At least I won’t have to carry you anymore,” the Huntsman’s tone was teasing as he fastened his worn traveling cloak around his shoulders. “You constantly grabbing fistfuls of my fur was starting to get annoying. I thought you were going to leave behind bald patches.”

You gaped at him. “Does it not concern you that my wound magically healed itself overnight without a drop of medicine?”

“Not particularly, no,” Sanemi held out a hand to help bring you to your feet. “Not when it’s my mark you bear upon your skin.” He said with a naughty wink.

You accepted his assistance with a huff, secretly marveling over the calloused, steady warmth of his touch as you righted yourself. “It’s humbling to know that, despite you spending the evening with your head between my legs, you continue to be as vague and elusive as you were when we first began this journey.”

Sanemi, who had turned away to adjust the various knives he kept strapped on his belt and in his pouch whipped back around to you. He frowned at the bemused yet vexed expression you wore.

“I don’t mean to be withholding,” he said after a moment. “I am just — unaccustomed to this,” the Huntsman motioned back and forth between you.

You returned his frown. “Talking?”

“Ye — no,” Sanemi ground his teeth for a moment, struggling for his words. “It is not the conversation part I find difficult. That part has been easy — with you, at least.”

Your cheeks warmed as the Huntsman continued. “It’s the…intimacy of it.” He scrunched his eyebrows in thought. “Sharing the details of what I am with someone who does not already know them.”

Your irritation melted into something lighter, as a slow grin spread across your face.

“What?” He snapped.

“How serendipitous,” you said coyly. “You once found yourself irritated by my questions and now it seems you’re in need of them.”

Sanemi shook his head, muttering softly to himself as he secured his satchel around his shoulders and turned back, waiting for you to follow him back into the Wood. “Trust you to find amusement when I try to be serious.”

You only smiled as the pair of you set off, shoulder to shoulder, to begin your trek not towards any human village resting on the other side of the Netherwood, but to Sanemi’s den.

“What is a den anyway?” You kicked a small pebble, sending it skittering off into the brush. “Is it a literal wolf’s den?”

“A cave,” Sanemi’s tone was relaxed even as his eyes remained sharp, his nostrils flaring every so often to scent out any potential threat hidden in the shadows. “I s’ppose it is pretty close to what you think of when you consider wolves’ dens. We use them for mating, or for our heats.”

“You can go into heat without mating?”

“Aye,” he answered. “Our heats don’t happen often — maybe once or twice a year.” Sanemi looked back to you in thought. “I do find it ironic that our paths crossed right before a Blood Moon.”

You frowned. “And what is a Blood Moon?”

“Simply put, it is an eclipse,” Sanemi’s fingers moved to brush your cheek. “One that makes the moon appear crimson. But for wolves — cursed like me and those born — it is a time when our strength is at its peak; but we are also more unstable. Wild.”

You felt an excited chill pass over your skin. “But what does that have to do with your heat?”

The Huntsman only shrugged. “Blood moons can trigger heats behind the usual cycle; they can be stronger. More intense.”

“Which is why,” Sanemi reached over where you walked beside him and flicked your nose. “Your cloak is important, Lamb.”

“Speaking of that, you once warned me about the color of my cloak,” you frowned, pinching the fabric between your fingers. “You said red can symbolize many different things.”

“Aye, it can,” Sanemi held out a hand to help you over a particularly rocky bit of terrain, not letting go until he’d ensured you reached even ground. “I am surprised your Grandmother did not warn you of that.”

You felt slightly defensive of the old woman. “She may not have known. It’s an old cloak. It was an heirloom.”

“I highly doubt she did not know its import,” Sanemi disagreed, casting a sidelong glance your direction. “I told you it was enchanted. It has been acting as a ward against those in the Wood that would do you harm.”

“Cloaks like that are not just made and sold to unsuspecting villagers. Those who desire them, do so for specific reasons.”

You frowned, thumbing the fabric. “And what of the color? You’ve yet to tell me what the red means.”

Sanemi’s cheeks pinkened. “Red is an important color to wolves like me. It is the only color we can see.”

Your head whipped towards him with a soft gasp. “You mean — you cannot see other colors?”

The Huntsman shook his head, his eyes roaming the path before you. “Only the red of your cloak.”

“And its meaning?” You pressed.

Sanemi hesitated. “Red has been understood to be a mating signal. A declaration that one is unmarked but willing.”

You gaped at him. “So that day — the day we met,” you managed, your cheeks warming. “You thought I was — that I was offering myself to you?”

Rather than flush further, Sanemi laughed — a rich, velvety sound that filled you with warmth.

“No Lamb,” he said affectionately. “I didn’t think a scared little thing like you even knew what that cloak meant. Especially when you looked half-ready to pass out when you saw me.”

You crossed your arms self-consciously in front of your chest. “I’d been running for over a day, and the Wood is terrifying.”

The Huntsman’s hand found yours and he laced your fingers with his. “And yet you found me all the same. Perhaps the cloak worked.”

He lifted a hand to your shoulder, where his mark sat below the heavy fabric of the crimson hood. “After all, I am no longer taking you to another human village; I’m taking you somewhere so I can utterly defile you.”

Your thighs clenched together, his words sending excitement, coarse and hot, cascading through your veins. “It is not defilement when I am begging for your touch, Wolf.”

Sanemi tugged on your hand, pulling you against his chest and surprising you with a soft kiss, his thumb stroking your chin.

“Beg you shall, my darling Lamb.” He murmured against your lips. “So let us speed up our step so I can hear those sweet pleas.”

You giggled as Sanemi led you deeper into the Wood by your hand, your cheeks flushed pink and your stomach tittering with excitement at the prospect of what the moonrise would bring.

—-

It was late afternoon when Sanemi slowed to a stop.

You slowed beside him and followed his line of sight, looking down a small valley to see a series of small, interconnected rocky formations peppered throughout the ravine.

You exhaled softly. “Is that—?”

Sanemi nodded. “My den is just over there,” he pointed to a mass of moss-covered rock about halfway down the valley. “Though you  cannot tell from this distance, it’s fairly deep on the inside.” He glanced down at you, eyes softening at the exhilaration upon your face. “We will not be disturbed.”

You tore your eyes away from the peaceful spread of land, the soft slopes of the mountainous terrain appearing so out of place with the murky darkness of the Netherwood. “And this is where you go every time you go into heat?”

“Aye, when wolves are unmated, it’s best for us to be alone,” Sanemi blushed slightly, a hand jumping to rub at the back of his neck. “To weather it alone, that is.”

Your hand found his and squeezed gently. “You won’t have to any longer.”

The Huntsman’s answering smile was warm as he tucked you into his side, kissing your hair.

“Come,” he said. “Let us get set up for the night.”

———

Sanemi had spoken the truth; though the cave had appeared small and unassuming from the outside, once he parted the thick ivy curtain which obscured the entrance from the sight of any wandering passerbys, you could see the mouth of the stone gave way to a comfortably large, rocky alcove.

The wall was set back about twenty feet from the cave’s entry. On one side, you spied a series of unevenly spaced ledges that Sanemi appeared to use as shelves, a cluster of odd-shaped packages wrapped in cloths of various fabrics resting upon the sediment.

Across from the little storage area was a thick pile of animal furs, soft and in pristine condition. Each was piled atop the other, creating a pad several inches thick that would serve as a barrier against the dirt-rock floor of the den.

Your eyes lingered on the pelts before you turned to Sanemi, head cocked in question.

Sanemi’s gaze darkened as it flitted between you and the furs. “A nest,” he explained, his voice turning to gravel. “To make the heat more comfortable.”

He paused for a moment. “Had I known I’d be finding myself a mate, I would have brought more. I was expecting to endure my heat alone —“

“It’s perfect,” you cut him off, hand covering his in assurance. “It’s all perfect.”

Sanemi brushed your hair back, hand caressing your face. He nodded towards the makeshift shelves on the opposite side of the nest. “Provisions,” he said. “I came here just before you found me to stock up on dried meat and fruits — and water.”

He nudged your foot shyly with his own. “And trust when I say you will need your sustenance.”

The suggestion in his tone was enough to make you step into him, heat pooling sensually in the depths of your stomach.

“Sanemi,” you whispered, and the Huntsman’s breath quickened. “Kiss me.”

Soft lips moved softly against your own, but it was not enough. With an eager gasp, you pressed forward, tilting your head to deepen the kiss, your teeth tugging at his bottom lip in silent request.

Sanemi opened, and your tongues melded together, both of you sighing deeply into the other as you breathed him in.

You walked him back, Sanemi allowing himself to be led to the edge of his nest. You pushed lightly on his chest, and he lowered himself, the Huntsman’s hands sliding down your waist and to your hips, tugging you down with him to straddle his lap.

Your legs wrapped around his waist as you rest against him. As the two of you settled against the soft furs of the den nest, the Huntsman’s hardening length pushing against the sensitive spot between your legs, causing you both to gasp.

The Wolf’s chest rose hard and quick as you pushed your hips down against his once more.

Sanemi was panting against your mouth as you ground down once more against his crotch, mewling at the way his hardening bulge connected with that spot between your legs that made your toes curl.

“You must keep your cloak on,” he managed to whisper against your throat as he nuzzled against your skin.

At the first sound of the whimper building in your throat, Sanemi pushed your hips down against him, rolling his clothed groin up into yours. “I will still remove your dress, little lamb,” He huffed a quiet laugh skimming your jaw with his nose. “But the cloak is for your safety.”

“I do not wish for you to take me safely,” you whined, “I want you to take me as your mate.”

The declaration that you intended to accept the bond made the huntsman groan, his grip on your hips tightening as the fabric of your dress gathered beneath his palms.

“Be careful what you wish for, woman,” he warned, nipping at the tender spot beneath your ear.

“I will mate you, little lamb, but you are human.” Sanemi pulled back to face you, a warm hand coming to rest against your face as he gently, but firmly, forced you to meet his eyes. “And it is the full moon; it will be hard enough to restrain myself from transforming while I take you, even with your cloak on.”

Sanemi’s eyes shut tightly and for a moment, it looked as though he was in pain. “But were I to shift while claiming you right now, I couldn’t guarantee that I wouldn’t harm you. It is a risk I will not take, lamb.”

A warmth spread through your chest at the consideration and care the roughened man continued to show you, even as his heat only continued to heighten, evidenced by the ever-growing swell beneath his trousers.

The flutter in your stomach was tempered as your mind processed his words. “But you will shift while taking me? One day?”

Sanemi hesitated for a moment before nodding, and it was a struggle for you to refrain from clenching your thighs together. The wolf’s eyes were concerned, if not timid, as they searched yours. “Does that frighten you?”

The only thing that frightened you was how excited you felt at the prospect of Sanemi fully transforming into his fearsome, powerful wolf form as he pressed you into the pelts of his bed, but you weren’t about to confess that to him right then.

So you only shook your head, your fingers rising to gently caress the scar jutting across his cheek. “No, my wolf; that does not scare me at all.”

A pale eyebrow quirked up as a small smirk pulled at Sanemi’s lips. “So I am your wolf now, little lamb?”

“If I am to be yours, then you are to be mine, no?” You kissed him again, moaning softly at the soft fullness of his lips as they moved easily against yours. “Doesn’t the mating bond go both ways?”

Sanemi’s eyes were full of wonder as they roamed your face. “It does,” he whispered. “What you feel, I shall also, and likewise.”

“Then that makes you, my wolf.” You answered simply, smiling slyly. You leaned down to kiss him once more, your arms winding around his neck. The Huntsman groaned, his hands roaming the curves of your body, until they came to rest against your chest.

“Allow me,” Sanemi said gently, fingers coming to unlace the stays on your outer corset. “I’d prefer for you to be undressed before the moon rises.”

You grinned. “You just want to see me bare.”

“Aye, that’s true,” the Wolf chuckled, the sound sending goosebumps over your skin as his fingers deftly unwinding the cords keeping the garment secured. “But I also don’t want you trying to skin me for having destroyed your only set of clothing in my haste to have you my way.”

You mocked a pout. “But the cloak must stay?”

“Yes, you seductive little thing; your cloak stays for your protection.”

You groaned, huffing in annoyance as Sanemi finally undid the last lace of your corset and cast it aside. He pushed you back to sit against the pelts, kneeling before you to unlace your boots.

Once he’d set aside the worn leather shoes, the Huntsman focused his attention on the pair of long wool socks that went just over your knees. You tried to keep from squirming as his warm hands brushed against the bare skin above the tops of your socks, but the Wolf seemed intent on teasing you as much as possible. As he worked each sock slowly down your leg, he allowed his fingers to teasingly drag along the sensitive skin of your upper thighs.

You fought the urge to clench them together, your teeth gnashing together as you willed yourself not to shiver beneath his tantalizing touch. But you could not control the rush of arousal which flooded you, and your cheeks turned scarlet at the way Sanemi’s nostrils flared slightly, scenting you, a cocky smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“So eager, little Lamb,” he simpered, allowing his fingers to drop to the space above one of your newly exposed ankle and massaging it. “So enticing.”

You glowered at him. “You know precisely what you’re doing, and I won’t fall for your little game.”

It was a lie, and you knew it as well as he, for all it took was a quick press of his lips against the crease between your shin and knee to have you whimpering, hips involuntarily bucking as you grew desperate for him to continue.

“It would not take much for me to have you begging, Lamb,” Sanemi warned, eliciting a gasp from you as he nipped the sensitive skin of your thigh. “Be grateful I will be in no mood to tease once the moon rises.”

You whined as Sanemi’s hands removed  your skirts one at a time, and then your shift, slowly peeling back each of your layers until you were bare beneath him.

He pulled away once, to remove his cloak and the billowy linen shirt he wore, and then his boots. Left in nothing but his breeches, he knelt before you on the pelts, covering your trembling body with his warm solid form.

Your fingers jumped to the ties on his breeches, but Sanemi jerked his hips out of the way. At your small whine, he chuckled, his lips beginning a descent down your body from your neck.

“I first need to taste you,” he said simply between the soft nips he trailed down your torso, breaking up each prick of his teeth with alternating licks of his warm tongue.

Your small pout was quickly chased away by the electrifying sensation of Sanemi’s lips drifting closer and closer to where you wanted him most and you settled back against the furs, a tiny smile tugging at your mouth.

You spread your legs wider to accommodate his mass, so lean yet so solid, the muscles on his chest looking as though they’d been carved from the finest stone by only the most skilled of masons. Against the flickering light of the small fire he’d lit inside the cave, Sanemi’s hair was reminiscent of starlight, and his eyes, locked steadily with yours, glimmered like two, precious stones.

His mouth trailed lower, sweeping across your hipbones as he drew nearer to your core, Sanemi groaning softly as he scented your arousal where it pooled between your legs.

Your hands drifted to your naked breasts, your fingers pinching and tugging at your soft peaks as you nudged your hips forward, silently begging Sanemi to bestow upon you the same pleasure he’d given you the night before.

The Huntsman did not need a great deal of convincing. Hands wrapping around your thighs to hold you wide open, he surged forward and latched his mouth to your eager cunt.

Sanemi devoured you like a man starved.

He was sloppy; his face was pressed firmly against your center, jaw working furiously as his tongue lapped between your folds before dipping inside of your entrance, savoring the way your tight walls cinched around the wet appendage, before he pulled out and repeated the movement. The sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs could not rest, not between alternating brushes of the tip of his nose and the graze of his teeth as feasted.

Every so often, he would pull back, leaving only the tip of his tongue flicking against your bead, his face shiny with your slick, as he watched your face, the way your eyebrows knit and how your lips parted to let loose your breathy, desperate whimpers and pleas for more. But that brief moment of respite as he observed you rarely lasted more than a few thunderous beats of your heart before the Huntsman swooped down upon you once more, thrusting his tongue deep into your entrance and curling up, brushing against a spot within you that had you screaming his name.

One hand gripped your thigh harshly, his nails digging into the soft inner skin as he pulled you harder against his mouth, groaning between lewd slurps and smacks against your cunt. The other made its way towards your entrance, his fingers dragging lightly over the soft, fatty underside of your backside before settling at your opening, teasingly circling it.

“I can see you clenching,” he muttered between harsh sucks at your pearl. “Do you long to be filled, Lamb?”

Speech was difficult, but you managed to nod desperately your throat remembered how to make sound. “Y-yes!” You could hardly hear yourself over the roar in your ears as you chased that ascendant feeling building steadily in your gut. “P-please, Sanemi — I feel so…s-so empty —“

The Wolf seemed to be in a charitable mood, for he swiftly plunged two of his fingers into your core, burying them right down to the joint. Half a beat later, and Sanemi crooked those thick, calloused digits, fingertips massaging your inner walls until your thighs vibrated around his head, and his name left your mouth in a small shriek.

The Huntsman’s lips latched around your sensitive nub, alternating between sucking and licking, making you writhe against the furred pelts of the nest. The thumb of the hand working steadily at your entrance stretched up the length of your cunt, pressing firmly against your pearl and rotating in small circles, so he could continue to stimulate you even during those brief few seconds when his mouth would pull away from you so that he could swallow your juices like it was the finest nectar.

Your cries bounced off the walls of the cave den, the coil in your cut winding tight, your entire body shaking beneath the furious ministrations of Sanemi’s mouth against your cunt.

Sanemi’s head dipped down to plunge his tongue into your opening, right alongside his fingers and you came undone, the soft pelts beneath you disappearing as your body ascended high through the clouds of your pleasure.

Sanemi moaned as he drank from you, his free hand moving from your thigh to your hips to help you grind against his face, his eyes rolling back slightly as he savored your sweet taste.

Your dizzying high gradually guttered out, letting you drift softly back down against the pelts, your skin covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

The Huntsman imparted two, final licks against your hyper-sensitive folds before drawing back, his tongue running over his lips to collect the last traces of your juices that still lingered around his mouth.

“When we get home,” Sanemi’s voice was husky, as he brought the fingers he’d hand inside you to his mouth, his tongue carefully cleaning your essence from his digits. “You are to spend an entire day sitting upon my face while I feast. You will not move until I’ve had my fill.”

His vow made your stomach flutter and your mouth go dry. “You mean that was not enough?”

Sanemi’s answering grin was wolfish. “Not in the slightest, Lamb. You provoke a hunger in me that I fear cannot be sated.”

He leaned down over you, hand firmly cupping your jaw to part your lips as he slotted his mouth over you. His tongue slid into your mouth to caress yours, and you moaned at the musky, sweet taste of yourself still on his lips.

He broke the kiss with a wet smack. “So we shall start with a day and see how well you please me. If I am still unhappy, then you shall have to remain there until I am otherwise satisfied.”

“And what of my satisfaction, Wolf?” Sanemi’s grin only widened at your challenge. “So far, I’ve heard talk of only yours.”

The Huntsman’s fingers grazed your dampened slit, still so sensitive from what he’d done with his mouth that you hissed lightly, as he covered your body with his own.

“Have I not pleased you enough, sweetling? My sincerest apologies.” He mocked, rolling his clothed groin against your bare one. He dipped his head low, sucking one of your breasts into his mouth before kissing his way up your neck to your chin, stopping to let his lips just hover above yours. “We shall see if you’re still feeling so cheated once my cock is buried inside you, hm?”

The reminder of what was about to transpire in a matter of minutes as the sun dipped lower and lower below the horizon outside the cave stilled you, momentarily breaking through the lusty haze in your mind.

“Sanemi,” the seriousness in your tone drew the Huntsman to a halt, his eyes flicking to yours, his hands stilling.

You gulped. “It will hurt, will it not?”

Sanemi’s eyes softened, and his fingers began rubbing soothing circles into your skin, his touch gentle. “It will at first, yes.”

You nodded. “Do you think — can we start before moonrise?” Your hands found his and squeezed, pleadingly. “If it is going to hurt, I would prefer to do it before your heat sets in.”

Sanemi’s hand pulled away from your grasp to hold the side of your face, tilting your head until you had to meet his gaze.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Sanemi’s fingers were delicate as they caressed the curve of your cheek. “You do not owe me anything; I would not dream of asking you to do anything you did not want.”

You parroted his touch by stroking a thumb softly over the scar that crossed his cheek. “I am certain that I want you, Wolf.” You leaned in and pressed your lips gently against his before pulling back. “I ask only because I want that moment to belong to you. Not as my mate, but as the man I’ve chosen to spend my days beside.”

“So please,” you entreated, pressing yourself closer against your Huntsman, your other hand toying with the faint trail of silver hair that spread across his bared pectorals. “Before you claim me as your mate, make me yours, Sanemi.”

The Huntsman’s breath was ragged. “All right, then,” one warm hand wrapped around your waist, its heat somehow burning through the layers of your skirts and shifts. “As you wish, Y/N.”

There was a beat as Sanemi nuzzled your nose with his. “But the cloak stays on.”

He chuckled at your small harrumph, quieting you with the sweetest of kisses, his thumb stroking your cheek. “Nice try,” he murmured against your lips, before rolling you beneath him.

Sanemi kissed his way down your body, a low growl vibrating in his chest as he neared your waiting core, but he held back, pulling off you to raise up on his feet, his hands coming to rest against the front laces of his breeches.

The Huntsman held your heated gaze as he slowly unlaced the leather cord securing his breeches. Without breaking the connection, Sanemi leisurely worked the soft deer hide down his hips and over his thighs, unveiling his toned lower abdominals and strong, muscular thighs.

Your eyes traced over every ridge and dip of the Huntsman’s nude body, cheeks growing hotter and hotter as your gaze dipped down lower.

There was that faint, silvery trail of hair that began just below his navel that had first made you view the Huntsman in a different light, all those days ago. That trail led down past his hips, right where the evidence of his desire stood proud, and waiting.

Sanemi’s manhood was thick and long, its tip level with his navel. It was a few shades darker than the rest of his skin, the head a pinkish color that seemed to grow deeper the longer you stared, as though sensing the events about to unfold and eager to move them along.

You’d seen him nude before, but this time was different. For now, Sanemi’s nakedness was about to belong to you as much as yours was to belong to him.

Sanemi turned slightly to the side to discard his breeches, placing them atop the many layers of your skirts and shift. From that angle, you spied a faint hump near the base of his length, almost imperceptible in the orange, flickering light of the cave, that you nearly mistook it for a trick of the shadows.

“Is that —?” Your voice faltered with your blush.

Sanemi’s answering smirk set off a flurry of butterflies in your stomach. Though you’d seen him in a far more compromising position between your thighs, his beauty still had a habit of catching you off guard.

“Aye,” his voice was both silky and rough as he drew closer to you. “That will be my knot, once it fully forms.”

The Huntsman knelt down beside you on the soft pelts covering the den nest, lowering himself to graze his lips against yours. “But don’t worry about that right now, sweetling.” Sanemi then shifted so that he was hovering over you, a knee wedging between yours to help guide your legs open as he settled into the cradle of your thighs.

His lips ghosted against the side of your neck. “Just focus on me.”

You nodded, breath catching in your throat as his warm weight settled against you. You hissed at the feeling of the tip of his manhood brushing against your slick folds, a spark of pleasure jolting through you like a lightening bolt.

Above you, Sanemi ground his teeth, a tendon popping in his neck as he exhaled sharply. “Christ,” he ground out, repeating the sliding movement of his velvety head against your core. “I pray your cloak is enough, sweet girl. Because I don’t know how I’m going to hold back when you already feel this good.”

The mark on your neck pulsed with a simmering heat that only sent another gush of fluid between your legs. You mewled for him, fingers tugging lightly at his silver locks as you bucked your hips upwards, your body nearly thrumming with your need to be filled by the thick, searing length tracing up and down your folds.

Sanemi moaned. “Alright,” he said, exasperated but his voice shook. “Needy little thing.”

One hand skirted down the length of your thigh, gripping behind your knee to wrap your leg around his hips. The Huntsman’s other hand moved to grip the base of his manhood, lining it up with your entrance. Sanemi’s eyes lifted once to yours in silent question, and anticipation fluttered in your gut.

“Please,” was all you could say, breathy and desperate. “Please.”

As the head of his cock pushed into you, Sanemi rattled out a gasp, his eyes screwing tightly shut as he panted hard above you.

“L-lamb,” he stuttered even as he continued to breach your walls. “You’re so soft…so warm.”

You cried out at the way pleasure and a faint discomfort blended together into a pinching pressure as the Huntsman worked himself into you, his muscles trembling.  The thick, blunt tip of his cock pushed against an inner barrier within you, and your belly clenched in anticipation as Sanemi paused the sinking of his hips into yours. His head dipped to the crook of your neck, right where he’d seared his claim into you, and he began to brush his lips against it, caressing the raised skin with his tongue.

The stimulation of your mark sent a flood of warmth trickling through you, relaxing your tensed limbs and allowing your body to open up to him — this Wolf, who was committed to making you his for good.

Your cry of discomfort melted into a deep moan of desire as your head tilted to the side, exposing more of your neck to the Wolf’s feverish mouth. With a growl of approval, Sanemi surged his hips forward and finally pushed past that thin, inner barrier, embedding himself to the hilt within your spasming walls. The flash of pain from his breach caused you to tense for a breath, your core pulsing at the intrusion. But then Sanemi’s fingers were there, working the nub between your legs to chase away any lingering discomfort as he pressed open-mouthed kisses against your neck, murmuring soft praises.

Pleasure bloomed beneath Sanemi’s skillful touch as the last of the burning subsided. Your breath eased as you relaxed in his embrace, shyly rolling your hips against his to signal you were ready for more.

He pulled back, eyes searching yours. “Are you alright, sweetling?”

Your hands clawed at his back, trying to press the Huntsman closer to you, despite the way your bodies were pressed flush together. “Y-yes,” you managed, your breath stuttering as Sanemi shifted above you, the movement stimulating a spark of heat between your legs.

“M-more, Sanemi,” you moaned, fingers digging into the grooves of the muscles of his shoulders. “Please, more.”

He nodded with a groan, an arm shifting to wrap around your waist to hold you up against him. With his face buried in the crook of your neck, Sanemi began to move, his hips rolling into yours and pushing his manhood deeper and deeper into you.

“Lie back, sweet Lamb,” he murmured in your ear as he rolled into you once more. “Let me make you feel good.”

You couldn’t imagine how much better the Wolf was capable of making you feel than he was at that moment, with every lurid push of his length into your tight heat, but you weren’t about to question his abilities. With a quiet moan, you fell back away from him and against the soft pelts of the den nest, your arms dropping from his shoulders and coming to rest above you, against the furs.

“Fuck, just like that,” Sanemi’s gaze darkened as he beheld the way your position arched your lower back slightly, raising your peaked breasts higher up, your nipples stiff and desperate for stimulation. “You’re so good, little Lamb. So good for me.”

The Huntsman’s gentle praises made your thighs clench and warmth pool in your lower belly. Sanemi leaned forward with a sigh, running a hand up the length of your arm to grip one of your wrists to press it down into the nest. The other returned to your hip, angling you slightly in a way that allowed him to sink even deeper into your syrupy heat.

He lowered his head to wrap his lips around one of the sensitive buds of your breast, tugging it lightly between his teeth. “Gods, Lamb, you’ve no idea what you do to me,” he groaned. “It’s taking — fuck — everything in me not to tear this cloak off you and rut into you like the beast I am.”

You nearly whined at that, drawing upon every ounce of self control within you to not admit that was exactly what you wanted — Sanemi, unrestrained and utterly wild. You locked your ankles against his backside and used all the strength in your legs to push him into you, bucking your hips in tandem with his. “Sanemi, please, I need more —“

He answered with a pointed thrust of his hips, choking you off with a gasp.

“Is that so?” Sanemi’s breath was hot against your ear, and a shiver jolted down your spine at the faint growl that tinged his words. He shifted your legs so that they were wrapped higher around his hips, the fat of your backside resting against his sturdy thighs. “Then you better hold on tight, little Lamb.”

The Huntsman locked a muscled arm around your waist and moved his hand to grip both your wrists, pinning them above your head.

His lips crashed down against yours as Sanemi began to thrust into you with a steady rhythm, each push of his length into your spasming core as precise and fluid as the Huntsman had proved himself to be in the Wood. Only now, he was not faced with an opponent, but with something far more tantalizing — something he desired far more to dominate.

You.

And you were only happy to give into him, what with the way his cock charted previously unexplored places deep inside you, repeatedly brushing against spots that had your mouth falling open and stars appearing in the corners of your eyes.

Sanemi’s tongue slid into your mouth as his hands moved to arch your back further, your legs rising higher on his waist until they were locked just under his ribcage, the Huntsman bearing more of his weight down upon you and pressing you harder into his nest.

You pulled away from his lips, your breath ragged. “I - I f-feel,” you tried to babble, though your mouth struggled to form coherent words against the symphony of moans and whimpers that each push of Sanemi’s length into you dragged out.

Sanemi’s lips moved down your neck and danced across your throat. “How do you feel, Lamb?” He cooed, the tip of his incisor brushing against the hollow of your throat, his pace only increasing with every deep plunge of his length into your silken cavern.

Your eyes fluttered shut even as your eyebrows knit together, the knowledge of how to properly speak nothing more than a distant memory.

“F-full,” you managed to pant after a moment. “So — ah — full, Sanemi.”

Amidst the sounds of your breathy moans and Sanemi’s rugged pants and snarls, a pointed, wet schlick began to echo off the walls of the cave den as Sanemi continued to build his rhythm, his cock nearly pulling all the way out of your honeyed heat before he plunged it right back in, hitting you so deep, you wondered whether he might be able to touch your very soul.

Your moans grew louder as that familiar coil began to tighten behind your navel, just above where you felt the tip of Sanemi’s length begin to twitch within you.

Sanemi stuttered out a broken groan of your name. “My sweet, sweet girl —“

“I love you!” you gasped, the thick, pleasured fog in your head unable to keep the words from tumbling out of your mouth. “Ngh — I love you — fuck, Sanemi!”

The Huntsman only growled in response, his hands digging into your hips to pull you to meet his thrusts, his hips snapping faster against you.

Just outside the mouth of the den, the clouds parted and the moon’s silvery rays filtered through the small cracks in the earthen wall of the cave.

Sanemi’s thrusts stuttered as his body suddenly seized. His head was thrown back, the tendons and muscles in his neck rigid with strain, while his chest heaved, struggling to take a breath.

The fingers digging into your hips tightened and you cried out at the sharp prick of nails sinking into your soft flesh. At the sound of your voice, Sanemi’s hands pulled away to reveal fingers now with long, curved nails.

His claws.

A choked, strangled noise that was somewhere between a groan and a howl ripped from Sanemi’s throat as he shuddered violently above you. The tremors sent faint vibrations right to where the two of you were connected, sparking new yet short-lived waves of pleasure rippling through your core. you mewled at the loss of stimulation as the huntsman stilled once more, desperately wanting him to start moving again to ease the burgeoning friction between your legs.

Your hips involuntarily twitched up against his and Sanemi’s head snapped down, his attention now wholly focused on you, writhing below him.

The first thing you noticed were his eyes.

No longer did they reflect the soft lilac that you’d come to find comfort in; that regarded you with a curious gentleness that often contrasted with Sanemi’s gruff and scarred countenance.

Now, the eyes that watched you from above had faded to a startling silver that glowed nearly as bright as the fat moon which hung just outside the mouth of the den.

But his eyes were nothing compared to the fangs that had formed on both his upper and bottom rows of teeth.

Sanemi’s incisors had lengthened, the upper pair extending nearly to his lower lip. The teeth tapered out to sharp points, glistening in the moonlight with a promise of violence to anyone who might find themselves at their mercy.

He had warned you that it would be difficult to keep himself from shifting while he mated you, but you’d assumed that the presence of your cloak would keep him in his human form. It seemed, however, that the magical protection afforded by the Ruby red wool draped around your shoulders, still could not fully temper the beast within.

Especially when that beast was in the thick of his heat and claiming you as his mate.

Still embedded deep within your heat, apparently oblivious to the growing friction that caused you to squirm, Sanemi’s nostrils flared and his eyes dropped to the sides of your hips. His pupils contracted, a deadly glint igniting within his silver pools, as he beheld the thin rivulets of blood which had gathered and crested beneath the marks left behind by his claws.

A growl, low and dangerous built in his throat at the sight of the crimson, but the arm wrapped around your waist tightened in silent apology.

His free hand rose to cup your jaw and he squeezed, forcing your mouth to fall open. Sanemi leaned over you, his tongue falling out of his mouth where you could see he’d gathered some of his saliva, and he let it drip past your parted lips. You accepted the fluid, warm and slightly sweet, as it pooled in your mouth until all that connected his lips with yours was a single, clear string of saliva that broke as Sanemi spoke once more.

“Swallow,” his voice was gruff and tinged with an animalistic snarl.

You obeyed, and Sanemi huffed in approval, his eyes lowering once more to your sides, waiting.

The skin around the marks left behind by Sanemi’s claws grew warm and then tingled before the sensation quickly faded away.  Curious, your hand fluttered to the outer curve of your right hip, fingers seeking out the tender, bleeding skin. With a soft gasp, you realized all that remained on your flesh were drying flakes of your blood.

Your eyes flew to Sanemi’s in surprise, and the wolf nodded.

His half-shifted form was apparently only able to speak a single word at a time. “Healed,” he confirmed, tongue darting out from between his lips to lick alongside your neck. “Healed.”

 The huntsman’s nose moved to press flush against the soft spot beneath your ear, inhaling deeply. Your breath hitched at the sudden, light graze of his fangs against the curve of your collar bone, accompanied by a distinct wetness that pooled just beneath it.

Sanemi breathed into you again, his corresponding groan deep and possessive, and it occurred to you that in this half-shifted form, he was scenting you, needing to confirm that you were the one he’d marked; the one who was accepting his mating bond.

And your scent was making him drool.

“Mate,” he growled, dragging his nose down your neck to the hollow of your throat where your pulse thrummed. Your breath caught in your throat as the tip of one of his fangs grazed the delicate skin, and you realized it would take no effort for the wolf above you to pierce your neck and claim your life.

It would’ve frightened you, had you not realized that Sanemi was continuing to hold still above you. He remained that way, even though it was likely every instinct he had was screaming at him to move, to mark to, to claim you, especially when he was already sheathed deep within the sanctity of your walls. His restraint was palpable, given how he trembled, even as you felt his cock twitch within you, desperately seeking to fill and breed.

“Mate?” Came his snarl once more tinged by the faintest uncertainty as he awaited your response.

If you wanted him to stop, you had no doubt his will would overcome his base instincts, and he would pull away.

But you didn’t, and so you merely breathed, “Yes, wolf. I am your mate.”

A dark hum of approval rippled from Sanemi’s chest and he answered with a deep push of his hips. You gasped, hitching your legs higher on his waist and you swore it felt as though his cock had somehow grown hotter, thicker, as he began his rut.

But Sanemi in heat did not want your legs wrapped around him; he wanted you submissive, utterly at his mercy as he claimed you as his mate, and so, he flipped you to your hands and knees with a supernatural dexterity that left you breathless.

Clawed hands came to rest on your hips and dragged you back to him, carefully folding the hem of your cloak up and back to expose your rear end to the Wolf’s hungry gaze. One hand left to push against your upper back, pressing you into the soft pelts of the mating nest, while the other tilted your hips until your backside was in the air.

Your stomach clenched at the hot exhale of air that blew against your cunt, thighs squeezing together at the sound of Sanemi scenting you with a deep intake of breath.

“Pretty,” Sanemi marveled, the calloused pad of his index finger swiping along the slick folds of your core, causing your muscles to clench, desperate to be filled once more.

His voice took on a darker edge. “Mine.” He growled, and your head fell forward with a throaty moan as Sanemi’s tongue flattened against your folds for a strong lick.

His mouth only caused your essence to gush once more, and this pleased him, given the contented humming that sent vibrations rocking through you, loosening a desperate cry from your throat.

The sound of your desperation seemed to spark something in the wolf at your back, for Sanemi suddenly tore his mouth away from you and rose to his knees. You were about to turn to beg him to touch you again, when you felt the hot, leaking tip of his cock press into your entrance, slipping past that first ring of muscle before stilling.

Sanemi left his clawed hands on your hips and shifted his weight to let his knees knock your thighs together. Tilting your hips even more, Sanemi then rose up, the head of his cock still tucked safely inside you, and planted one foot on either side of your knees, coming to a squat.

And then, Sanemi began to fuck you once more.

Your thighs trembled beneath you as Sanemi’s cock stretched and filled you, reducing you to no more than a quivering puddle of your own arousal and desperate need to be claimed.

With every relentless push of his cock, with every pointed slap of his groin against your backside, you were reminded that at the end of this, there would be no part of you that remained wholly yours. Sanemi fucked himself into every crevice, every nerve that made up you, his cock chasing away anything that could not be marked by him.

You did not exist for yourself; you existed only for his pleasure and to take his knot.

“Mine,” Sanemi growled, over and over, with every bruising thrust into you, as the swelling base of his cock pressed closer and closer to your entrance.

He was too fast; Sanemi fucked into you at a pace so brutal, it was all you could do to continue holding your hips up, fingers desperately digging into the soft pelted blankets for purchase as every drive of the wolf’s hips made you bounce.

“Mine, mine, mine,” Sanemi chanted, each reminder punctuated by the possessive thrust of his cock into your drooling cunt, so forceful that you struggled to take a breath.

It felt like heaven.

“Yes,” you half-groaned, half-screamed into the fur below you. “Y-yours! Your mate!”

Your words only seemed to make him grow more feral and desperate, his hips snapping even harder against you as his engorged cock threatened to tear you apart from the inside, out.

One of his hands left your hip and you nearly whined, needing to feel him everywhere you couldn’t touch. You chanced a glance over your shoulder, just in time to see Sanemi raise his thumb to his mouth to bite the long, thick curved tip of his claw clean off. His thumb now resembling that of an ordinary man’s, Sanemi brought it right between your legs, pressing down against the series of nerves at the apex of your thighs that made you howl.

Even in the thick of his heat, your pleasure was his priority.

“Oh gods, oh gods,” your voice trembled in time with your body as the pressure in your navel built, much faster than it had before, the walls of your cunt fluttering harder around the thick, bulbous length of the wolf bent over your back. “Sanemi!”

The wolf’s thumb swirled around your bud more insistently, his cock throbbing as he shoved it deeper and deeper into you. From your position on your knees, chest firmly smushed against the pelts of the den nest, you began to feel the soft furs lightly graze against the skin of your stomach, though the lower half of your body was largely still suspended above the ground.

Not even your mind-numbing pleasure could stymie your curiosity as your hand drifted down your abdomen until it met a hard, bulging lump that throbbed just below your navel.

A lump that pulsed in time with every vicious thrust of the wolf’s hips against your backside. With a strangled gasp you pressed down, palm cupping around the thick, protruding head of Sanemi’s cock from the outside as it battered you from within.

The pressure made Sanemi tip his head back, a pleasured snarl rumbling from deep within his chest. His hips stuttered once, causing his heavy, full balls to slap right against your swollen bead and you came undone.

The walls of your core seized around the Wolf’s cock with a dizzying force, your limbs locking up as a euphoric scream tore your throat raw, and tears sprang into your eyes. Your cunt pulsed around his length, a gush of your sticky pleasure surging forth to cost him and his groin, the scent mixing with the heady, thick musk that permeated the air of the den.

Your eyes strained as they rolled deeply back into your head, your brain only vaguely registering the way Sanemi inhaled deeply behind you, a cross between a whine and a groan falling from his lips.

Sanemi’s hips gave one final, mighty push of his cock deep into your womb before you felt a sudden explosion of hot, sticky warmth flood you as Sanemi’s own climax ruptured.

You felt his seed fill you, a stray bead just managing to eke out from where the two of you were joined to trickle teasingly down your inner thigh. You wouldn’t have paid it any mind, but Sanemi growled lowly at it, as though the single drop of his milky pleasure managing to evade capture within your tight warmth was something to mourn.

Several moments passed, and yet Sanemi’s length remained rigid and spurting inside you, only prolonging your own release. As he spilled, Sanemi’s hips lurched forward once more, somehow pushing his cock deeper into your core as it spasmed around him with the last fading waves of your pleasure. But that pleasure was quickly replaced by a burning stretch as something hot and hard and thick bumped up against your entrance.

With a grunt, Sanemi nudged it forward and the hardened gland slipped into your hole, eliciting a mix between a scream and a moan from you that was only muffled by the fur against which you’d buried your face.

His knot, you realized, as your walls tried to rebel against the intrusion and push it out. Your swollen, aching cunt, however, was no match against the heavy, bulbous weight of the plug determined to keep every bit of the hot seed still spurting from Sanemi’s cock locked deep within you.

Several more moments passed as you remained pinned beneath the Wolf, his knot locked snugly within your cunt as he sighed and mewled above you, his lips grazing the back of your neck and shoulders. As your womb began to feel slightly bloated from the volume of hot, viscous seed with which Sanemi filled you, you began to finally feel his cock soften, and the burning stretch of your walls around his knot started to lessen as it slowly shrunk.

As his knot finally ebbed, Sanemi’s cock slipped out, only a small trail of his seed behind it, trickling lightly down your thigh.

His chest pressed harder into your back and you both fell forward, collapsing against the soft pelts cushioning the floor of his den, panting.

Your cheeks were flushed a bright red and your eyes were glassy, every inch of you trembling from the intensity of your joining. To quiet the thunderous beat of your heart against your sternum, you concentrated on on the feeling of his seed, thick and heavy, as it sloshed within your womb.

Soft lips grazed your still-burning mating mark before they moved softly down your spine as Sanemi’s weight lifted from your back. Warm, gentle hands gripped your hips and eased you flat against the nest before turning you over, your body boneless beneath his touch.

Sanemi’s fingers brushed your hair from your face, his eyes full of concern as his hand caressed your cheek. “Are you okay, my lamb?”

It took a surprising amount of effort to remember how to nod your head, and enough time passed that Sanemi lurched over you, his eyes wide as a worried call of your name echoed over the roar in your ears.

“I’m fine,” you managed after a moment, your voice a faint warble as your hands searched for him, needing the warmth of his skin to bring you back down to earth. “I promise I’m okay.”

You took a deep breath and allowed your eyes to slide shut, your face turning to nuzzle deeper into his palm as it rest against your temple. Sanemi’s fingers continued to brush your hairline, over and over, in an effort to soothe you.

When you opened your eyes again, you felt steadier; more grounded. You finally met his worried gaze, his irises having faded back to that delicate lilac hue you loved rather than the glowing silver they’d been during your rut.

But as you shifted beneath him, you felt another gush of his seed leak out of you, and the way it trickled down the curve of your ass before pooling on the fur beneath you made your core pulse once more.

Sanemi’s eyes flickered silver as the embers of your arousal caught once more, and your thighs clenched in anticipation.

Your hand found the back of his neck and gripped it firm, tugging his head back down towards you until your lips nearly touched. Sanemi’s breath was warm and sweet as it fanned over your face. Slowly, your other hand trailed down his chest, savoring the way his muscles rippled and tensed beneath your soft caress.

Your fingers found his still-stiffened member and they closed around it, giving him one, strong pump.

“Again.” You ordered, and your thighs fell open, the full scent of your arousal mixed with the muskiness of his seed making Sanemi’s nostrils flare, his pupils narrowing to slits as he growled in reply.

—————

Hours passed, and the sun had long since risen and begun its descent in the west, but Sanemi’s heat had still not subsided.

The periods of Sanemi’s lucidity gradually grew in length with every small break between his knot finally subsiding and his heat reigniting. The last break had lasted long enough for Sanemi to bring you several strips of dried meat and a handful of dried fruit, along with a skien of water that he had to help hold to your lips as you slurped greedy mouthfuls of the cool, spring water. You hadn’t had much of an appetite, given the way your stomach seemed to bulge slightly from the amount of seed he’d already given you, but the Hunstman insisted, lecturing you briefly about the need to keep your energy — and stamina — at a consistent level.

You’d begrudgingly accepted his offerings, less so out of hunger and more so because of the way he’d pulled you against the sweat-slicked skin of his chest while you ate, his fingers tracing delicately up and down your spine as his lips peppered your forehead in gentle, reverent kisses.

But that had been at least two hours prior, and you were right back where you started: head thrown back and nonsensical babbling lilting from your mouth as Sanemi impaled you on his monstrous length, over and over, until you could not remember where you ended and he began.

To his credit, even Sanemi in heat tried to feed you his knot in new positions, still committed to ensuring that you got as much pleasure from the experience as he. The current position was the most toe-curling one yet, one that had Sanemi resting on his haunches, his back straight as he kept you perched atop his cock like a throne.

One clawed hand was splayed across your lower back, keeping you upright as the other stretched across your lower abdomen, hand pressing down against your navel so you could feel the bulbous head of his engorged cock rub against that spot at the front of your wall that made you forget your own name, even if you could not seem to forget his.

This position also allowed him to guide you up and down his length in time with his lurid, frenzied thrusts, which you supposed was a good thing, considering your legs had long since been reduced to jelly and were utterly useless.

You felt yourself growing more and more lightheaded the harder Sanemi continued to fuck himself into you, the pleasure wrought by each frantic, deep stroke of the Wolf’s thick length in and out threatening to overtake you entirely.

His seed was steadily squelching out of you with each impassioned thrust, running down your thighs and dampening the furs below you. you’d lost count of how many times he’d already given you his knot. Truthfully, you’d stopped counting around the third or fourth time, your body too concentrated on trying to simply keep up with the Huntsman’s insatiable stamina. Still, despite the exhaustion, your mouth managed to form only a single, coherent plea for more, a command the Wolf was only too happy to oblige

You were getting closer to that pinnacle again, a slew of whimpers falling from your mouth in time with each harsh drive of the wolf’s cock into your cunt. But despite the number of times Sanemi had brought you over the edge since this dance had begun, you felt as though this time, it would be different; more extreme. How could you not, given the way your own juices slid down your thighs, mixing with his essence as he fucked it both into and out of you?

Sanemi’s length was hardly pulling out of your sopping heat, so you felt the swelling at his base steadily growing larger and larger, and you knew  his release was imminent. You tried to tighten your arms around his neck, a high-pitched whine keening from your throat as your head fell back.

The Wolf bent low and sucked one of your aching breasts into his mouth, his teeth adding new reddish-purple marks to the fatty flesh that his tongue worked to quickly soothe. A graze of his fangs against your nipple sent another gush of fluid rushing from your core, followed by a wanton moan as you arced your back, pressing your breasts harder into his face.

You felt your walls begin to tighten around his rocky length once more, and your pearl brushed against the swollen hub of the enlarged gland at the base of his cock.

With a final jolt of his hips upwards, Sanemi’s knot pressed flush against the apex of your thighs and sent you catapulting into the burning fire of your climax once more, your body seizing as your vision faded white. There was only a faint ringing in your ears as you felt yourself floating along clouds that matched the precise hue of your Huntsman’s hair, and you let yourself be utterly lost among the pleasure that was Sanemi.

You were content to remain amidst that departed bliss, your body weightless and your mind empty, but the Wolf still embedded deep within your cunt was not.

Your rapture was disrupted by a faint pressure between your thighs, just against that nub Sanemi had shown you was sacred to him. That pressure grew, your limbs no longer floating but stiffening, tensing as something warm and calloused pinched more insistently at your pearl.

With a keening cry, you plummeted out of the clouds of mindless bliss you’d ascended to and right back down to earth, to that cave den where Sanemi had you draped over his thighs, one clawed hand supporting the middle of your back to keep you upright as the other furiously worked between your legs.

Tears of pleasure so intense leaked from the corners of your eyes as you deduced that the Wolf rutting into you had forced you back to consciousness with yet another climax, this one just as powerful as the previous. Though, now, instead of your vision fading to white, a rush of your own fluids surged forth and coated the Huntsman’s groin, wetting down the coarse, silvery hairs that surrounded his cock.

Sanemi’s nostrils flared at the scent of your pleasure as it soaked him. With something more akin to a roar than a groan or a shout, Sanemi’s cock erupted within you, his hot seed shooting so deep, you swore you could taste it — him — at the back of your throat.

Had you been capable of speech, you would have tried to tell him you could not possibly be expected to hold anymore of his pleasure — not when you’d already taken more loads of it than you could count, not when it felt as though his seed had replaced every trace of blood within your body, so coating everything inside that made you you to instead make his. But you weren’t; not when your tongue was half-lolled out of your mouth, not when your eyes had rolled so far back into your skull, you’d wondered whether they might become stuck there.

And even if you could have spoken, it wouldn’t have mattered. For the moment Sanemi’s cock ceased twitching inside you once more, you felt felt his hips surge up and in, felt that hard, bulbous knot slip right into your core with far more ease than it had earlier in the night, ensuring that not a single drop of Sanemi’s pleasure could leak out of where he’d just unloaded it within you once more.

Not that you would want it to be anywhere else, anyways; not when it was so warm, so comforting as it sloshed around inside your womb, making you feel a fullness not even the most decadent of meals could impart.

Somehow, still, you wanted more; needed it. Needed him.

You continued to float as you took the Wolf’s knot twice more, your brain little more than liquid and your senses too dull to perceive anything that wasn’t him. Distantly, you felt him tense and heard his soft groan, quieter than any noise he’d made since first claiming you all those hours ago, and his dwindling knot lodged into your entrance one final time.

The two of you breathed heavily for a moment, you folded half against the cave wall, sandwiched between cool rock and Sanemi’s solid warmth. Dazedly, you realized Sanemi had called your name, his voice barely a hoarse whisper.

Blinking, your eyes blearily opened to meet a pair of lilac — not silver — irises hovering above your own.

Sanemi’s face was flushed, but his human features had returned, with not a trace of those elongated fangs or pointed ears left.

A sheen of sweat coated his skin, dampening the ends of his snowy hair to a dark silver. Sanemi kept himself braced above you, his muscles rippling in the dim, fading light of the small fire feebly flickering within the cave. From your spot below him on the pelts, your eyes traced a bead of sweat that rolled down his neck and over one of his scarred pectorals.

“You cannot possibly take anything more from me.” He panted, and to your amusement, he almost looked alarmed as his eyes roamed your equally flushed and  sweaty form spread out below him.

You smiled serenely up at the Huntsman — your mate.

“I can take whatever it is you want to  give me, Wolf.”

Sanemi groaned loudly as he pulled out of you, both of you wincing at the loss of warmth.

“I have nothing left to give you, woman. My heat has ended,” his eyebrows raised. “Even if yours, apparently, hasn’t.”

Between your legs felt sticky and gooey with the remnants of Sanemi’s heat slowly leaking forth and mixing with the fluid drying on your thighs.  But despite the slightly uncomfortable sensation of the Huntsman’s copious seed beginning to dry where it crusted on your skin, you smirked at him nonetheless as he laid out beside you with a heavy sigh.

“So I am a Wolf, then? If you think I am in heat, that is.”

“I think you are the most insatiable devil ever to grace the Wood,” Sanemi countered exasperatedly. “And I think you may be the death of me.”

You giggled as the Huntsman helped ease you down from where he’d pinned you against the wall, his hands gently guiding you to your side against him as the two of you laid down upon the furs.

Your head nestled into the crevice in the middle of his chest, your cheek pressed flush against his sternum, the steady beat of his heart a lullaby that threatened to bring sleep fast and soon.

“You said something earlier,” Sanemi said gently. “Just before I —“

Your eyes flew open, a faint blush of embarrassment staining your cheeks as you recalled your words, cried out just before the moon had triggered Sanemi’s partial transformation.

I love you!

“Where are you going?” Warm fingers caught you beneath your chin, preventing you from burying your face against his chest in your effort to hide away.

Your head was turned up, and your eyes  met that warm, lilac gaze. “Don’t hide from me, my Lamb.”

“Pretend I said nothing,” you squeaked, eyes dropping. “It does not have to mean anything.”

Sanemi’s other hand dropped to the mark branded into the juncture of your neck. At the first brush of his gentle yet strong fingers against the mark’s curvature, a warmth flooded through you, your teeth sinking into your lip to prevent you from purring at the contact.

“I did mark you, you know,” he smiled softly. “Bound myself to you for life, even if you decided to reject me.”

His smile faded slightly, his eyes earnest. “I would not have done that if I didn’t care for you — deeply.”

Sanemi’s lips pursed in thought. “If I did not love you, too.”

And though you had just spent the last day and a half allowing him to bend and twist you into positions that had you sobbing for him, the Huntsman’s words made your heart flutter like a bird.

“From this day forward,” you whispered, taking Sanemi’s hand in yours and pressing the tips of his fingers against your lips. “Wherever you go, I wish to follow.”

“You say that as though there was a chance you wouldn’t; as though you’d ever willingly leave me in peace.” He brushed a kiss against the top of your nose and his voice quieted. “As though I’d have it any other way.”

You answered his soft smile with one of your own, leaning up to slant your mouth over his. Sanemi’s lips parted easily for yours, your tongue sliding into his mouth to languidly dance with his, your hand snaking up his chest to hold the side of his neck.

The Huntsman growled softly into your kiss, an arm tightening around your waist as he pressed your nude body flush against his own.

“My heat may be over,” he said huskily against your mouth as he broke away to catch his breath. “But the fire you’ve lit within me still rages hot, little Lamb.”

You mewled as you traced your lips down, gliding over a scarred pectoral to take his pert little nipple into your mouth, your tongue swirling softly around it as Sanemi moaned.

“You’ve taken me as a wolf, Hunstman,” you purred, your hand sliding down his chiseled torso to where his cock had begun to stir once more. “Now I want you to take me as a man.”

With a low growl, Sanemi’s hands seized around your waist and flipped you over, laying you out on your back atop him, body pressed flush against his.

“Who am I to deny my mate?” His teeth grazed the shell of your ear, and one hand snaked around to your front to gently squeeze the sides of your throat.

“But since I’m taking you as a man, then I suppose you are no longer a Lamb, which means you no longer need this.” Sanemi’s fingers dropped to the collar of your cloak where it was still draped around your shoulders.

“And as fond as I am of your little red riding hood, I’m no longer concerned with being held back, sweetling.”

He flung the ruby cloak into a far corner of the cave before sliding his hand under you to position his cock between your legs, his tip already leaking as it pressed against your entrance.

His other arm looped through yours, pulling them back and pinning them against his chest, before he gave a great thrust up, sheathing himself to the hilt within your ready and eager walls.

You moaned, loud and unrestrained as Sanemi nipped at the side of your neck, your thighs spreading wider to accommodate his thrusts up from below.

“Let’s see how much more of me you can take now, little Red.”

—

SOMEWHERE IN THE NETHERWOOD

The silent, still trees of the Netherwood were helpless against the icy mist that rolled in from the foothills of the tiny, isolated village at its borders.

Though the forest had always been a void where sound and sunlight went to die, the mist heralded forth an unnerving stillness, so that not even a brave little songbird risked fluttering its wings. Even the shadows seemed to recoil as the source of the mist slunk through the ancient Wood, the most fearsome of its residents cowering away from the sinister intruder.

A figure emerged from the icy fog. Though the sun had long since set, the traveler needed no lantern or torch; his eyes, an unsettling kaleidoscope of colors, saw easily through the dark, the Wood unable to keep its secrets hidden from his hungry gaze.

It was quite a lovely night, the figure mused. A cool, late autumn evening with air so crisp it could only mean snow was imminent.

And snow made it much easier to track his prey.

Not that he was having much difficulty to begin with; after all, the girl’s noble attempt to muddy her own scent only made the chase that much more fun for the creature prowling through the Netherwood. Especially since the girl’s actions would lead him to a far bigger — far tastier, prize.

He smiled fondly to himself. He hadn’t imagined that the scrappy village girl would have ever made this game of his so interesting, and he certainly hadn’t expected her to be capable of serving him the feast he now tracked through the Wood.

He would still dispose of her the same way as the others, just as he planned. It did not matter to him that she’d already tainted herself by allowing a Wolf to mate her. In fact, the figure mused as he licked the remaining blood from his last his meal from his fingers, he hoped that the Wolf’s attempt to breed the succulent little human had been successful.

Mortal women and girls were far more satisfying than any other prey, with the way their bodies stored fat and held onto nutrients in preparation for child bearing. But a human woman carrying a Wolf’s pups? His mouth watered at the thought as he shuddered with delight.

But even if she was not carrying the fruits of the Wolf’s seed, it wouldn’t matter; she would still sate both his appetites.

And then there was the Wolf himself.

For the Wolf was the creature’s true target; the fat goose he hadn’t expected to find when he broke into the hen’s house in search for a new bride to claim.

The creature suppressed the primal, longing growl that bubbled up in his chest as he imagined how it would feel to sink his teeth into the furred flesh of the cursed Wolf, and how it would feel to swallow his mouthfuls of power and boundless strength.

His stomach growled at the thought, though he’d just feasted on a little girl he’d snatched from her parents’ bed as he’d waded into the Netherwood. She’d been bony and small, likely barely pubescent, but he’d been in need of nourishment before embarking on the long journey ahead. And, she’d been unbroken, and while he was not someone to care as much about such trivial matters, he couldn’t deny that it did feel so much better when they were untouched and untainted.

But she would do for now, as she rested in his belly. She could hold him over until he decided it was time to set his plan in motion, and his daring, rebellious little Y/N led him straight to the wolves’ den.

And Lord Douma knew how to be patient. And so, he would wait.

#demon slayer #sanemi shinazugawa #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #kimetsu no yaiba #kny x reader #kny fanfic #kny sanemi #sanemi x reader #monster fucker #werewolf fucker #sanemi shinazugawa x reader #sanemi smut #kny smut #demon slayer smut

[ghosttotheparty]

saw this prompt @newgrangespirals @steddieas-shegoes; needed to write it but also i kind of derailed it bc my brain has a mind of its own and its focus is steddie so i apologize also on ao3

He’s met with silence. 

Eddie supposes Murray Bauman must only ever be met with silence after speaking; he doesn’t seem the type of man to hold an easy, casual conversation. Especially now. 

Even Argyle is silent, his fork stalled on its way to his mouth as he looks from Murray to Jonathan, whose face is red, then Nancy, who’s equally flushed. 

Eddie looks at the table, his vision blurring. His hands are shaking.

“Murray,” Joyce says in a lethally calm voice. Eddie had forgotten she was here. “Go.”

“What do you mean, go?” Murray says, his voice quieter like he’s starting to sense what he’s just done. “We’re in—“

“Murray,” Joyce snaps. Eddie flinches. His fingers are knotting with the hem of the tablecloth, his food uneaten on his plate. “Go. I will deal with you later.”

There’s a moment of quiet before Murray’s chair scrapes across the uneven tile floor, and his footsteps retreat. And then there’s silence again. Tense, tense silence. 

“Steve,” Nancy says quietly, and Eddie looks up at her, glaring even though she hasn’t done anything to him. Jonathan looks at her too, anxious. Joyce sips her water, her hand shaking, and Hopper has his head down, his face hidden in his hands. 

“I’m good,” Steve says shortly, and Eddie looks at him, his stomach flipping. Steve is smiling a little, but it’s an awful smile. It doesn’t reach his eyes. He pushes his plate away with a breath like he feels just as sick as Eddie does, and he nods, but he doesn’t look like he’s really here. “I’m…”

“Steve, it— it wasn’t—“

“You told him my name,” Steve snaps, looking at her across the table, his eyes wide. Nancy looks like she’s going to start crying, and Eddie finds that he really doesn’t care if she does. “And you still…”

He laughs. Dryly, humourlessly. Eddie feels like he might throw up. 

Steve closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose the way he does when he feels a migraine coming on, and he laughs again. 

“Steve—“ Jonathan tries to say, but Steve just holds his hands up, shaking his head. 

“I’m just…”

He pushes his plate farther away, moving his chair back with a loud scrape, and then he’s leaving too, going upstairs. Eddie watches him go, watches Robin get up to follow him before she deflates, seeing the way Steve gestures for her to stay, to leave him alone. Robin’s hands are shaking, and Eddie can practically feel the anger radiating from her. 

The silence is back after a door slams upstairs. 

Joyce sets her glass down loudly, and she puts her hands flat on the table next to her plate, taking a deep, shaky breath. Hopper says her name softly, but she holds a hand up, shushing him. 

“I have never…” she starts slowly, her voice shaking with anger. “I have never been more disappointed in my life.”

“Mom—”

“Jonathan,” Joyce snaps, fixing a look on him, and he falls quiet. “…I did not raise you to be the other man. And Nancy, I…” She puts her hands on the table again, taking a measured breath before she looks at Nancy. “I am not your mother, but I think I am well within my rights to say I’m disappointed in you, too.”

“Ms Byers—”

“I don’t want to hear a word out of either of you,” Joyce says calmly before she touches her face, rubbing her chin anxiously as she stares at her plate in front of her. Nobody is eating anymore. Eddie still feels sick, but he also feels like he’s blended into the wall, like everybody’s forgotten that he’s here at all.  He looks at the table, at the fraying tablecloth that’s clutched in his fingers. 

“Unbelievable,” Joyce mutters to herself. “I can’t…” She doesn’t finish the sentence. Nancy takes a shuddering breath. She might be crying. 

“Eddie, dude.”

Eddie looks up, his eyes meeting Argyle’s. He’s looking over at Eddie anxiously, his head tilted a little bit, and as they look at each other, the others look at Eddie too. And suddenly he isn’t in the wall, but he’s the centrepiece of the table, the showstopper, the freak. 

It’s like they all remember what Murray said at the same time. 

“Eddie,” Joyce says, her voice softer than it was a moment ago. Kinder. Eddie looks at her. “Honey, if… if it is true. None of us have any problem with it.”

If it is true.

They all know it is. Eddie can tell just by looking at them that they all know. 

He feels so… small. Like he’s fifteen again. Like he’s new in high school, like he’s walking down the hallway and feeling all the stares, the eyes and eyes and eyes looking, watching, analysing, judging. Even though Joyce’s gaze is kind, and Hopper gives him a slight nod when their eyes meet. 

Eddie’s chest feels so tight he can’t breathe, each breath shallow and weak, and he’s kind of lightheaded, and he feels fucking nauseous. 

“I, uhm.” He clears his throat, his stomach churning, and he untangled his fingers from the tablecloth, taking a sharp breath. “Excuse me,” he says quickly, breathlessly, moving his chair back so fast it tips on the uneven tiles. He feels like he might pass out as he goes upstairs, hearing Argyle say something quietly behind him.

Upstairs feels even quiet than downstairs. Like every room could have an echo. 

Eddie finds a room that’s empty except for some cardboard boxes, and he shuts the door behind himself before he goes to the opposite side of the room, closing his eyes as he presses his forehead to the wall. It’s cold. 

He’s breathing too fast, and his head feels light, like if his eyes were open his vision would be dark. He wraps his arms around himself tightly, squeezing as he exhales until he wheezes, until there’s nothing in his lungs, and then he inhales as slowly as he can. In, in, in, until he can’t anymore. He holds it. Exhales. Does it all over again. 

Until he can breathe without suffocating. 

He turns to rest his back on the wall, and he slides down to the floor, closing his eyes and pulling his knees to his chest, exhaling shakily. 

He’s never felt like this before. 

He feels so… lonely. 

He feels almost cold, even though sunlight is streaming through the window, beams of golden light glowing across the floor. 

He cries. Even though he tries not to. He can’t help it, and the tears are absorbed by the sleeves of his hoodie. 

Steve’s hoodie. Eddie hates that he’s wearing it, even though Steve brought it just for him. Even though Steve specifically made sure he brought a black one, even though it smells like Steve. Eddie hates that Murray noticed that it’s Steve’s. 

He stays there for a while. Until the sunlight dims. 

He only lifts his head when the door breaks open, and Steve’s voice says, “Eddie?”

Eddie stands quickly, wiping his face and sniffling as Steve finds him and shuts the door behind himself. 

“Hey,” Eddie says, his voice wavering. “You okay?”

Steve nods. He doesn’t look like he’s been crying, but his eyes are shining blankly. And Eddie aches. 

He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t really have to. Steve blinks at him, hesitating. 

“I kind of already knew,” he says like it’s a question. “I just…” He exhales, swallowing, and Eddie knows he’s talking about Nancy and Jonathan. It. “I, like, convinced myself I didn’t care? That it— it didn’t matter?” 

Eddie listens, leaning against the wall, watching Steve push his hair back anxiously. 

“I mean— the world was ending, who gives a shit if— if I get cheated on? It’s so fucking stupid.” He doesn’t seem to realize he’s even talking to Eddie. He’s just talking. Saying what he didn’t say downstairs. “But I’m so… Jesus. Hearing it out loud, like— like Murray was fucking proud, like it was funny, I’m just… I don’t know.”

Steve deflates, leaning against the door, looking at Eddie, and his eyes are shining. 

“Embarrassed?”

“You don’t have anything to be embarrassed about, Steve,” Eddie says softly. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“...I trusted them,” Steve says quietly, weakly. 

“You trusted them,” Eddie repeats. “What they did is their fault, Steve, you didn’t do anything wrong. Trusting them wasn’t wrong,” he adds adamantly, watching the way Steve’s eyes shine. “You thought they were— they were trustworthy. You didn’t know they’d do something like that.” 

Steve sniffs, looking at the floor. His cheeks are flushed, and Eddie hates himself for thinking he looks beautiful. 

“You have every right to feel hurt,” Eddie says gently. Steve looks at him. He swallows. “And to feel angry.”

“What about you?” Steve asks quietly after a moment. Eddie blinks. 

“What about me?” 

Steve looks at him. His eyes flick back and forth between Eddie’s for a moment, intent and searching before he speaks. His voice is so soft. Kind. 

“He just outed you in front of all of us,” he says quietly. “You’re not angry?” 

Eddie blinks again. 

Steve looks at him so kindly. Eddie likes being looked at like this. Like Steve is listening to him even though he isn’t speaking. And Eddie realizes that Steve just knows, that he doesn’t question it. That he knows how Eddie is feeling, but is waiting for him to say it himself.

Eddie’s lip quivers, and he feels like a child again. 

“I…” He hesitates, taking a breath as a wave of nausea washes over him again. Steve just looks at him. “I’ve never come out to anyone,” he says weakly. He doesn’t recognize his own voice. “I’ve never gotten the chance to. My— My dad found some zines in my room when I was fourteen, and I didn’t… I didn’t have to say anything.” His voice is shaking. He’s never told anyone about this, not even Jeff. “The only time I ever heard that man say anything about God was when he was trying to beat the queer out of me,” he says, laughing the way Steve laughed downstairs. Humorless. Almost hysterical. “And he— he called Wayne to tell him everything because he…” 

Eddie trails off, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. 

“I told myself no one would ever know when Wayne took me in, but I swear it was like overnight, the whole town knew,” he chokes. “Because of— of my hair, or my clothes, or— or because people associate queerness with evil and— and Satanism, I don’t fucking know, but everyone knew and I…” 

He covers his face, his face hot with embarrassment as a sob escapes him, and it feels so stupid to be so upset right now, but Steve just waits patiently, listening and looking at him. 

“People keep taking it,” Eddie chokes, his face wet with tears now, looking at Steve desperately. “It’s mine, and people keep taking it from me.” 

Steve nods. 

And then he’s coming close and wrapping his arms around Eddie, and Eddie is crying into his shoulder, his hands clutching at Steve’s shirt the way they clutched at the tablecloth earlier, his fingers gripping the fabric so tightly his knuckles ache. He’s shaking. But Steve’s hands feel steady as they run over his back, and Eddie wants to die. 

Because Murray told them to have sex. And Steve is still here, holding Eddie while he cries, even though he knows Eddie is gay, even though Murray told the whole table that Eddie likes Steve, that it’s so painfully obvious that he likes Steve. That he’s pining, yearning. 

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, pressing his face into Steve’s neck, his shoulders shaking as he sobs, and Steve moves a hand to hold the back of his head, his fingers pressing into Eddie’s curls to cradle his skull. And it’s almost fucking tender, and Eddie doesn’t know how he got here. Or where he’s going to go. 

Steve is murmuring to him. Quiet I got yous and It’s okays, his voice breathy and soft in Eddie’s ear. Eddie melts against him, and Steve holds him tightly, swaying with him, rubbing his back and scratching his fingertips over his scalp carefully the way he does when Eddie has nightmares. 

Eddie whines into his neck, choking on his breath, and Steve’s arm tightens around his waist like he’s preparing to catch Eddie if he falls. 

“I know,” he whispers softly. “It’s not fair.” 

Eddie shakes his head. 

It’s not fair. 

It’s fucking bullshit. 

The whole world thinks it knows him better than he knows himself. Even if they’re fucking right. It’s not fair. He’s never gotten to speak for himself, never gotten to really introduce himself. 

He aches when he finally stops crying, his fingers relaxing but still holding Steve’s shirt loosely, and his hands are sore. Steve runs his hand through Eddie’s hair. He waits, holding Eddie close even though he isn’t crying anymore, touching him gently, kindly, as Eddie catches his breath. 

“You know what I’m angriest at?” Eddie asks softly after a few moments, his voice weak and breaking from his crying. Steve touches his head again. 

“What?” Steve whispers. 

“...He’s fucking right.”

Steve is quiet. Eddie squeezes his eyes shut as they burn again. 

And then Steve is shifting, holding the back of Eddie’s head, and Eddie blinks his eyes open to look at him. Steve looks into his eyes intently, and it’s almost too much, but Eddie can’t look away, his hands tightening on Steve’s shirt. 

“About everything?” he whispers softly. Tentatively. 

Eddie looks back and forth between his eyes, and he nods. 

He feels sick again. He can’t breathe. 

Steve’s hand moves to Eddie’s face, and he’s so fucking warm. His thumb brushes over Eddie’s cheek so lightly Eddie can barely feel it. And Steve’s face relaxes, like he’s deflating, as he touches Eddie’s face, as his other hand presses into the small of his back. 

“I really fucking hate him,” Steve breathes. His eyes flicker across Eddie’s face, and they linger on Eddie’s mouth. Eddie whispers his name. Steve hesitates, stammering silently for a moment before, “Can you say it?”

Eddie steps back a little, and their hands fall even though they’re still close enough for Eddie to see the green in his eyes. 

“...Say what?” he asks hesitantly. Steve looks at him, his eyes shining, and he looks so desperate suddenly. 

“Everything,” he says breathlessly. “I wanna hear it from you.”

Eddie’s eyes fill with tears, but Steve looks like he’s begging, and Eddie is weak. 

“I’m gay,” he says softly, whispering like he’s worried someone outside might hear. “And I…” He takes a breath. Steve’s eyes look back and forth between Eddie’s like he’s looking for it. “I have, like… a huge fucking crush on you.”

Steve’s eyes drop to Eddie’s mouth like he’s watching his lips form the words. Eddie is trembling. Steve suddenly feels like he’s across the room, like he’s far away even though they’re standing so close. 

“I might fucking be in love with you, Steve, I…” 

He chokes on his breath, and Steve is touching him again, reaching for his face and wiping away his tears carefully, stepping closer. Eddie’s hands find his waist, and he grips his shirt again. 

Steve says his name. 

It always sounds so nice in his mouth. 

“You don’t– You don’t have to,” Eddie says, trying to tear himself away, closing his eyes as Steve holds his face and wipes his tears. “I know, it’s…”

“Eddie,” Steve whispers, his hands tightening on Eddie’s cheeks, and he’s so close now, their noses almost brushing. “Is it okay if I kiss you?”

 Eddie’s eyes widen. He leans back to see Steve clearly, and Steve looks so nervous that Eddie aches. 

“Really?” Eddie asks weakly. 

“I…” Steve pauses, brushing his thumbs over Eddie’s cheeks and licking his lips, hesitating. “I might be fucking in love with you too,” he whispers. 

Eddie closes his eyes, exhaling as Steve strokes his cheeks again. He gasps for breath when Steve’s forehead touches his, his hands tightening on Steve’s shirt before he slides his hands over his waist gently. He can feel the heat of his skin through the fabric. 

“Is it okay if I kiss you?” Steve asks again, his breath soft on Eddie’s face. 

“Yeah,” he chokes. 

Steve’s palms press to Eddie’s cheeks, and Eddie’s hands clutch at Steve’s waist desperately when Steve’s nose nudges his, when their lips brush. He feels like he’s dying. 

But Steve kisses him so softly, so sweetly. Holding his face tenderly in his hands and pressing a lingering kiss to his lips before pulling away to look at him, to check, even though Eddie is holding him against himself, even though Eddie’s chin lifts like he’s subconsciously searching for his mouth again. 

Eddie’s eyes flutter open, and Steve is smiling at him. It’s such a soft smile, and Eddie forgets everything that’s happened today. Except Steve’s lips on his. 

“Please,” he breathes. Begs. Pleads. 

Steve kisses him again. One of his hands slides to hold the back of his head again, his fingers threading into Eddie’s curls, and his other shifts down to Eddie’s neck, his fingertips slipping under the hoodie as his thumb brushes over Eddie’s throat so lightly it tickles a little bit. Eddie’s hands press to Steve’s waist and slide to press into the small of his back, and he’s probably wrinkling the fabric of his shirt, but neither of them cares as they tilt their heads, as their lips part. 

They pull away to look at each other after a few moments, close enough that they’re sharing breaths as they both breathe hard, as Steve’s fingertips scratch over Eddie’s scalp lightly and Eddie’s eyelids flutter for a second. And then Steve is tilting his head and leaning down to kiss Eddie’s neck, his fingers twisting in his hair to hold him in place, and Eddie is dying, letting out a whimper as his eyes close and his hands reach for Steve’s arms. His fingertips dig into the soft flesh of his upper arms, squeezing as Steve presses a slow kiss under his ear. His mouth is so warm. 

Steve kisses him when he lifts his head, and Eddie kisses him back desperately, reaching to wrap his arms around his neck, whining when Steve’s hands find his waist and pull. 

Then Steve pushes, reaching up to hold the back of Eddie’s head, and Eddie stumbles back, his fingers tangling in Steve’s hair and tugging when his back hits the wall.  Steve’s hand blocks his head from the wall, and Eddie smiles against his mouth, gasping when Steve’s tongue slips across his lip. 

“Steve,” he gasps, lightheaded as Steve sucks on his lower lip, as one of his hands slides under the hoodie to touch his skin. His palms are a little rough with calluses, scratching the sensitive scar tissue on Eddie’s waist lightly, and Eddie groans. 

Steve pulls away with a gasp, looking at Eddie desperately, frantically, his other hand holding his face. His cheeks are flushed pink, and his lips are shining, and his hair is a mess, and Eddie wantshimwantshimwantshim—

“Do you wanna leave?” Steve asks, his voice rough, and Eddie looks at his mouth, still panting. “I… I don’t wanna see any of them, I just…” He’s breathless too. His hand runs over Eddie’s scarring again almost mindlessly as his thumb brushes his cheek. “Do you wanna go?”

“Yeah,” Eddie breathes. 

Steve smiles softly, his eyes shining at him, and he leans in to kiss him one more time, caressing his cheek. (Caressing. Jesus.) Eddie hums, savouring it before they part with a quiet, slick noise that seems to echo in the empty room. 

Eddie feels lightheaded again, but he’s smiling like he’s sleepy as Steve shifts his hands to press his chin up, smiling at how pliant Eddie is. Eddie laughs under his breath, his hands holding Steve’s shoulders. 

“I’m so fucking… relieved right now,” Eddie whispers, his head falling to rest on the wall behind him. Steve kisses him again before he pulls him close, hugging him tightly. 

Eddie buries his face in Steve’s neck, wrapping his arms around him tightly, wanting to jump up and wrap his legs around his waist, to cling to him like a koala, wanting to climb inside him, to be as close as fucking possible. Steve exhales roughly, pushing a hand into Eddie’s hair. 

Steve holds his hand as they leave, ignoring the others that are gathered in the living room, even though they’re clearly waiting for the two of them. Eddie lets the door slam shut behind them. Steve drives. Eddie reaches over and puts a hand on his thigh, squeezing gently as he looks out the windows and watches the world go by. 

He’s kind of anxious about this, whatever it is. Anxious that he isn’t what Steve thinks he is, what Steve hopes he is, anxious that he isn’t enough for him. 

But he’ll try his best, he knows he will. He’ll bring Steve fucking flowers, he’ll write him fucking poems if it makes him smile. He’ll ravish him the way he deserves, touch him the way he likes, tell him every chance he gets how fucking beautiful he is. He’ll kiss him good morning and learn how to make his coffee just right. He’ll memorize the pattern of his moles and name constellations on his skin. 

He’ll remind him every single day, as long as Steve lets him have him, what he deserves. 

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie prompt #steddie one shot #steve harrington one shot #eddie munson one shot #stranger things #stranger things one shot