Catch me if you can
megumi fushiguro x female reader
trigger warnings: fiction, fantasy, bloodplay, mentions of blood, mild sexual content, mature themes, mentions of witchcraft. enjoy!
mdni
Chase me through the woods. Catch me. Prove that you will run. I want to feel your breath on my neck before I even see you. I want to be hunted. Not because I am prey, but because I'm worth the hunt.
The forest was your favorite place, far from the rot of the village you called home. There, poverty dragged women into prostitution and men into theft. But the woods understood you. They listened. They saw you. Especially him.
Those eyes — the wildest shade of viridian — glowed like foxfire beneath the moonlight. They watched you the way a predator watches something beautiful and painfully tempting.
You noticed, of course. You always did.
You were the woman in the black cloak, the witch who gathered herbs and healed wounded animals deep in the trees. The Church would call you a heretic whore if they knew. They didn’t yet… but they would soon enough, especially with those hungry eyes following your every move. You knew he was no ordinary creature of the forest. You never looked away. Sometimes you even left offerings — a bowl of fresh water or a dead rabbit — daring him to come closer. The challenge only fed his hunger.
He stalked you to remember your face.
Because when the moon reached its peak and the full light washed over the world, Megumi Fushiguro returned to human form. Son of the moon, ward of the forest. Born from pale lunar light, skin as white as an ermine’s back, hair the deep blue-black of velvety indigo of the night. The forest had granted him those moss green eyes and the raw, ferocious, lustful instincts of a predator.
But such beauty and power came with a price. At the height of every full moon, when he shifted back to human, all memory washed away. He was left with nothing but instinct. That meant forgetting the beautiful witch in the black cloak, the one who had once healed him in the shadows of the deep wood.
The forest whispered your name as you ran.
It was your sanctuary, your silent lover, far from the village’s decay. Here, among the ancient trees, you felt truly alive. And he … he made you feel wanted.
You had shed the black cloak long ago, letting it catch on the brambles like a shed skin. All that remained was your thin white gown, delicate lace trimming the neckline and trailing down the long sleeves. Now it was torn and soaked with sweat and dew, clinging to your body. The fabric turned nearly transparent in the moonlight, tracing the curve of your breasts and the sway of your hips. You looked like a pagan goddess: impossibly beautiful, wild, and tempting.
The Divine Dogs moved like extensions of his soul. Their hot breath brushed the backs of your thighs. Their deep growls vibrated low in your belly. They weren’t trying to kill you — they guided you, surrounded you, drove you deeper into the ancient heart of the woods where the moonlight fell strongest. One passed so close that its silky fur grazed the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, pulling a sharp, breathless gasp from your lips. Heat pooled between your legs with every stride.
You wanted this. You had wanted him for months.
Suddenly, a thick root snaked across your path.
You tripped and fell with graceful surrender onto a soft bed of moss and fallen petals. The white gown pooled around your thighs, the lace neckline slipping low to bare the soft upper curve of your breasts. Moonlight poured over you, turning your skin to porcelain and silver.
The shadows shattered.
He emerged from the shadows.
Completely naked, devastatingly human beneath the full moon’s glow. His pale skin looked carved from moonlight itself. Spiky blue-black hair fell wild across his forehead. Those viridian eyes, framed by impossibly long lashes, burned with raw, instinctive hunger. He was beauty forged into instinct — the son of the moon, the ward of the forest.
He was on you in an instant, straddling your body, pinning you beneath his heat. With a low growl he tore away the last remnants of your hood, finally revealing your face completely.
The sight of you hit him like a strike.
A savage sound tore from his throat. He dragged his nose slowly from your throat down to the soft swell just above your breast, then bit. Deep.
His teeth sank into the tender flesh. Pain flared, sharp and sweet, as warm blood spilled over your skin and stained the white lace. He groaned against you, drinking deeply, licking the wound with slow, possessive strokes as if your blood could anchor the memories the moon kept stealing.
When he lifted his head, his lips and chin were smeared red. His viridian eyes locked onto yours — feral, desperate, aching.
And he kissed you.
It was a bloody, savage thing — all teeth and tongue and hunger. He bit your lower lip hard, reopening the wound, and drank from there too. The metallic taste of your blood passed between you as his body pressed flush against yours, hard and burning with need. His hands held you firmly, yet his fingers trembled, as though some buried part of him still knew you were sacred.
You pulled back just enough to breathe against his blood-stained mouth.
“I knew you would come for me,” you whispered, voice husky with desire. “Not because I’m prey… but because I’m worth the hunt.”
A violent shudder ran through him. For a heartbeat, something like recognition flickered in those green eyes.
Then he lost control completely.
The growl that left him was no longer human. It was pure beast. His mouth returned to the bite above your breast, sinking in harder, almost desperately. Fresh blood welled up, hot and thick, and he drank it greedily, licking every drop like it was the only thing that could soothe the emptiness inside him.
“Mine…” he murmured against your skin, voice rough and broken. “You’re mine… you’ve always been mine…”
His hands shook with raw need. One pinned your wrist above your head, the other tore further at your gown, ripping the lace until your breasts were nearly bare beneath the moonlight. His mouth closed over the wound again, sucking hard, tongue dragging through the blood.
You moaned, arching beneath him, and that sound seemed to snap the last thread of restraint he had left.
“Your blood…” he whispered reverently against your skin. “Your scent… I couldn’t forget you. Even when everything else disappears… you stay.”
He kissed you again — brutal, messy, full of teeth and hunger. He bit your lip once more, swallowing the fresh blood with a low groan that vibrated into your mouth. His body moved against yours with desperate, instinctive rhythm.
He dropped back to your chest, biting beside the first mark, leaving a perfect ring of teeth. Then he licked slowly, almost tenderly, at the red trail running toward your nipple.
“Beautiful…” he breathed, voice shattered. “My witch… my hunt… it was worth it. You’re worth everything…”
His viridian eyes met yours again — wild, vulnerable, and starving. He kissed you once more, slower this time but no less hungry, sharing the taste of your blood as his body continued pressing against you with raw need.
He never stopped murmuring against your lips, your throat, the curve of your breast:
“I don’t remember anything… only you.” “Let me drink… let me remember you…”
And then he returned to kiss you. There, being witnessed by the forest.
Long time no see, lol. I came up with this idea with this TikTok video and I really liked it, I hope you guys did too!
thanks for reading. Likes and reblogs are welcome!