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d1stalker · 2 months ago

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Collateral Damage [Logan Howlett]

SUMMARY: The X-men are heroes—they save the world, eradicate threats and protect both mutants and humans alike. You don't see it that way, though.

WARNINGS: one-sided e2l, fem!reader is stubborn and sassy af but it's valid, arguing, canon-level violence, scott's a dick, SMUT - 18+ only! WC: 21k - MASTERLIST

A/N: i've always wanted to write a fic with this plot, it's been on my mind for AGES. happy reading!

----

The first time you see them, it’s on your birthday.

Not being one for big, elaborate parties, you planned a quiet celebration instead—maybe a stroll through the lively city streets, followed by dinner with friends later. You had just visited your favourite store, buying a gift for yourself, and now you’re on your way back home.

The streets buzz with life as people shop, eat, and laugh, making it the perfect backdrop for a peaceful walk and some casual people-watching.

Then, out of nowhere, the ground trembles.

At first, you think it’s an earthquake—a quick jolt beneath your feet that sends a ripple of confusion through your body. But the tremor grows stronger, the ground shaking violently as everyone around you begins to panic, frantically looking around for the source, you included. And that’s when you see it.

A hulking, green monster stomping through the city streets like something out of a nightmare. It has to be at least twenty feet tall, its skin a sickly shade of green, its eyes glowing with rage. Cars bounce with each heavy footstep, leaving deep footprints in the cement in its wake.

People scream, scrambling to get out of its path, but you stand frozen, heart pounding as you try to make sense of what’s happening. In the blink of an eye, the city had been plunged into chaos. You lose track of your surroundings, too busy trying to keep your eyes on the monster headed your way, while also dodging the hoard of pedestrians running for their lives.

Until they show up.

Initially, you don’t even notice them. After all, there’s so much going on around you at this point you barely know what to do with yourself. Yet, through the dust and destruction, you see flashes of movement—figures darting toward the monster with a sense of purpose.

You don’t know who they are, but their bright blue and yellow suits make it seem like you should. At first glance, it’s hard not to feel a sense of awe. They move with such confidence, with their powers on full display for the world to see. You’ve never seen anything like it—a team of mutants using their powers in the open, fighting for what you assume is the greater good.

Maybe they can stop this!

The one first to act is a woman with white hair. She raises her arms to the sky, her eyes glowing a bright white as dark clouds swirl above, blocking out the sun. A flash of lightning slams into the monster's chest, forcing it to reel back with a thunderous roar of agony, and the crowd around you gasps, watching in wonder.

But when the lightning strikes a second time, it veers off course, crashing into the side of a nearby building. The structure groans under the impact, flames erupting from the point of contact as windows shatter, sending glass raining down onto the street below.

The collision sends you to the ground, and when you look up again, you see the power inside go out, all the lights flickering off.

Whatever awe you’d been feeling dissolves into concern, a sinking feeling settling in your chest.

Following her, a man with a glowing red visor strides forward. He’s clearly aiming to hit the monster, but the bright red beam shooting from his eyes slices through several cars in the street first, flipping them over and leaving them in smoldering wrecks. One of the blasts tears through a storefront, reducing it to rubble in a matter of seconds. More people scream and scatter, trying to escape the destruction.

From the corner of your eye, you see another mutant—a man with claws—lunge toward the monster, jumping onto cars to get closer to its head. But by using the parked cars as springboards, the weight of him causes the roof to sink in, and his claws leave deep gashes in the metal.

How heavy is this guy? Is he made of metal or something?

He’s fast, brutal, slashing at the green beast with some serious ferocity. Still, despite the attack, the monster’s strength prevails, and it easily tosses him aside, crashing into buildings, crowds—anything in the way. To your surprise, he always gets back up. And that should be good, right? They are fighting for the safety of the city.

But as debris rains down and cars are overturned, you can’t help but feel like this isn’t helping. You’re constantly dodging rubble, trying to find shelter, only for it to be destroyed seconds later. It’s like being in a war zone, and it doesn’t seem to be getting better.

And above it all, there’s a woman with red hair. She’s floating, and you watch from where you’re hiding as she lifts entire trees from their roots, hurling them at the monster in an attempt to slow it down. Except, much like her teammates, her attempt goes awry, and she misses, the trees now flying toward you.

You barely have the reflexes to dive out of the way.

Your heart races, breath coming in shallow bursts as you press yourself against a wall, trying to steady yourself. The sound of sirens blare in the distance, but it doesn’t seem like help is coming anytime soon. There’s too much going on. People are running, pushing each other aside, crying, screaming, trying to find safety.

Glancing around, you’re met with destruction—flames licking at the sidewalk, cars totaled, and building wreckage littering the streets. These mutants, while clearly powerful, are causing just as much destruction as the monster itself.

What should have been a simple takedown—a 6v1—has turned into a full-scale disaster.

And yet, they don’t stop. They don’t pause to help the people caught in the crossfire, don’t even seem to notice the damage they’re causing. They’re so focused on the monster, so focused on the fight, that they’ve lost sight of everything else.

Is this what heroism looks like? You’d been excited at first—amazed, even—thinking they were here to save the day. But now, standing in the middle of a city that’s being torn apart, you realize how wrong you were.

They don’t care. Not about the city. Not about the people.

Finally, with one last blast from the man with the visor, the monster collapses to the ground, defeated. It lets out a final roar before falling still, its massive body sprawled across the street.

The team stands over its body, their chests heaving with exertion, but they have smiles on their faces, feeling victorious. One by one, they board an aircraft, dragging the monster in with them, barely sparing a glance at the horrors they’ve caused. The white-haired woman doesn’t even bother to clear the storm clouds she summoned.

Within moments, they’re gone. You, and everyone else in the area, are left to deal with the fallout. Left to clean up their mess.

Happy birthday to me, I guess.

—

After that, you spend the next few days trying to process what had happened. You’re still in a state of shock, confusion, and disbelief, but then the media catches wind of what went down, and suddenly, it’s everywhere.

News channels replay the footage over and over, the headlines screaming about “our holy saviours” saving the day. They’re plastered across every screen, being hailed as protectors.

The X-Men.

A group of mutant superheroes, apparently. The reporters list them off one by one, like they’re celebrities you should have known about.

Storm. Cyclops. Wolverine. Jean Grey.

Mutants with powers like gods.

—

The second time you see them, you’re on vacation.

Sitting in a quaint café in the south of France, you’re enjoying a well-deserved break. The city you’re in is perfect—cobblestone streets winding through the village, vine-covered walls framing pastel-colored houses, and the scent of fresh bread drifting from nearby bakeries. It all feels like something out of a dream, the kind of peaceful retreat you’ve been desperate for after everything back home.

You order a frappé, and as you wait, you idly flip through a local newspaper, trying to see how much of your rusty high school French you can remember. It’s peaceful, quiet, exactly what you needed—until it’s not.

Movement out of the corner of your eye grabs your attention, and you glance over the edge of the newspaper, watching a group of tourists as they walk into the café. It’s not really anything odd, so you don’t think much of it—they’re dressed casually, like any group of vacationers.

Though, something about them tugs at the back of your mind, a nagging feeling that you’ve seen them before.

You lower the newspaper entirely now, staring as you try to place where you recognize them from. The tall one with the red sunglasses, the woman with the striking white hair, the man in the leather jacket... You squint, the pieces slowly falling into place.

And then it hits you.

Oh, no way.

You’re halfway around the world, in a different country, on a different continent, and somehow, they’re here. At the same café.

Shifting in your seat, you’re trying to figure out what the hell is going on, when the barista arrives with your drink. He smiles warmly at you, placing the cup down on the table with a soft “voila madame,” but before you can even thank him, there’s a blur of motion.

One of them—Wolverine, you think—lunges at the barista, grabbing him by the collar and shoving him back. The tray tips, and your frappé spills everywhere—all over the table, your newspaper, and, to your absolute horror, all over you.

“Logan, no!” you hear Storm shout, but it’s too late.

The cold drink soaks into your clothes, and you let out a startled yelp, jumping up as your chair topples over. Your clothes are ruined, your vacation ruined, and in the midst of all of this?

Wolverine—or Logan, you guess, is wrestling with the poor barista.

“What the hell?!” you shout, trying to shake off the liquid dripping down your legs. “Is this a joke?!”

No one hears you, or even acknowledges you.

The other mutants jump into action, and before you know it, the peaceful café is transformed into yet another battleground. Cyclops blasts a beam at the barista—who you now realize must be the target of whatever mission they’re on—but it misses, smashing into the wall behind you.

You’re furious, covered in a brown drink that makes it seem like you just had explosive diarrhea, and caught in yet another X-Men fiasco. All you wanted was a vacation. You don’t even know what’s happening anymore—who the barista is, what mission they’re on—but frankly, you don’t care.

This is absurd!

Without a second thought, you grab your bag and make a break for it, dodging overturned tables and debris as you make your way to the exit. You don’t bother looking back, your only thought being to get changed, and get as far away as possible.

After rounding the corner, putting some distance between yourself and the café, you pause for a moment to catch your breath. And then you hear it.

Boom.

The sound reverberates through the narrow streets, shaking the cobblestones beneath your feet. You whirl around, sticking your head out from the corner of the building, just in time to see a plume of smoke rising into the air from where the café once stood.

Your heart sinks.

They blew it up.

—

The third time you see them, it’s a really nice day outside.

It’s a week after you’ve returned home, and the weather had finally given you a break from the suffocating heat. You’re walking home from a lunch with an old friend, when your phone buzzes in your pocket. Probably said friend sending you something stupid to laugh at later.

You chuckle, already anticipating the joke, when—

BAM!

Something slams into you from the side with the force of a freight train. You’re airborne for a second, weightless, before crashing hard onto the pavement, your breath knocked right out from your lungs.

Dazed, you groan and blink up at the sky, trying to get your bearings. What the hell just hit me? Your vision swims as you sit up, shoulder throbbing from the impact. Twisting your neck to see whatever the hell that was, you immediately regret it, wincing at the sharp pain.

Great, just great.

When you finally manage to sit up, you spot the culprit.

Cyclops.

Are you fucking serious?!

His back is to you, dusting off his ugly uniform like nothing happened. You look around, and notice that the street in front you is in ruins—buildings have gaping holes where windows used to be, chunks of the road are crumbling, people covered in blood scurrying away as fast as they can.

Just when you thought it couldn’t get any worse, you catch a glimpse of the giant mechanical robots looming above, scanning for their targets. One of them must’ve thrown Cyclops into you.

You can see the others—Jean, Storm, Beast (some new guy)—flying around, saving the world. That’s codeword for: wreaking havoc, destroying your city.

Anger boils up inside you, hot and unrelenting as you struggle to your feet, rubbing your sore shoulder. But as you open your mouth, a gruff voice cuts through the air.

"Good job, dickhead. You just hurt a civilian."

Your gaze snaps toward the sound. Wolverine’s standing a few feet away, claws out, glaring at the guy who sent you flying.

“I was thrown, Logan,” he says passively. “Maybe if you kept the Sentinels off me—”

“Maybe if you didn’t stand there like a damn target, you wouldn’t get thrown!” The clawed mutant growls, taking a step closer. His whole posture is tense, like he’s barely holding himself back from tackling the other man into the ground (you would pay to have him do it). “Seriously, Summers, it’s like you want to get tossed around.”

Cyclops doesn’t even flinch. “We’ve got bigger problems than this right now,” he dismisses, not even glancing back at you to check if you’re okay.

Well, there goes the last of your patience.

"Are you kidding me?!" you shout, throwing your hands up in disbelief. They completely ignore you, too absorbed in their petty bickering to acknowledge that you’re still standing there, seething.

Before you can rip into them, something catches your eye—a Sentinel (is that what they’re called?), hovering above them, charging up a blast. Its arm is raised, energy crackling at the barrel of its cannon, aimed directly at the two distracted morons.

“Oh, for the love of—” you mutter under your breath before diving forward.

The blast hits you square in the chest, but instead of pain, all you feel is the heat of the energy surging through your body, like lightning spreading through every inch of your veins. It crackles and burns, the force building up inside you until it feels like you’re about to explode.

Then, with a deep breath, you thrust your hands forward, channeling and releasing the blast right back at the robot, blowing it apart. Metal and circuits rain down, the Sentinel crashing into the ground with a deafening thud.

Silence falls.

You’re panting, feeling the leftover energy fizzle out of your fingertips. Slowly, you turn back around, and unsurprisingly, Cyclops–or Scott, as you’ve heard in the news—and Logan are staring at you like you just walked on water. Well, the clawed one is. You can’t really see the other brown-haired man’s expression due to his visor.

“Woah, bub—”

“Oh, hell no!” You spin around fully, pointing an accusatory finger at both of them. “Neither of you get to speak! I just saved your asses because you were too busy bickering like children to notice the massive death robot about to blow you to pieces!”

Logan’s mouth quirks up, but he wisely stays silent.

“And this is exactly why I hate you people!” You continue, exasperated. “You swoop in, make a mess, destroy everything in your path, and then just leave like nothing happened! You think this is helping anyone? You think the people running for their lives right now give a damn about your little team squabbles?”

Scott doesn’t even blink. “We’re just trying to help,” he says evenly, like he’s rehearsed the line a thousand times.

“Help?” you scoff incredulously. “You only tell yourself you’re doing that to make yourself feel better. How many casualties do you think are coming out of this, hm? What’s the body count gonna be after today? Or do you not even bother counting anymore?”

His audacity makes you want to laugh. He opens his mouth to respond, but you’re not done.

"All this mess, the destroyed buildings, the people who won’t make it home tonight because you couldn’t keep your damn fight contained! You’re so focused on stopping the big bad guys that you don’t even realize how much carnage you leave behind. Who’s cleaning up after you? Who’s paying for this?! " You gesture around wildly. "News flash: the people whose lives you’re currently ruining!”

Beside him, Logan’s smirk fades, and he begins to step forward with his hands raised. “Listen, darlin’, we’re doin’ the best we can. We didn’t ask for this fight—”

"Oh, don’t give me that ‘best we can’ bullshit," you snap.

“We’re here to protect people,” Scott adds in, trying to maintain authority. “It’s not always clean, but we are making a difference—"

“Shut the fuck up! I’m not finished!” You interrupt, shaking your head. “Every day. Every damn day there’s something new.”

With the face Logan’s making, you’d think he’s going to start going in on you, but he doesn’t. Instead, he just watches, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he’s trying to figure you out. It’s unnerving, but you don’t care. You’ve had enough.

"And you," you say, turning your ire toward him, "You couldn’t have, I don’t know, used your super speed or whatever the hell you do to catch him before he crashed into me?"

His eyebrow quirks up. “Super speed?” he chuckles lowly. “Ain’t that fast. Was a little busy with the giant killer robots.”

You tilt your head back in frustration and turn on your heel. "I’m done. I don’t care what kind of mission you’re on, or how noble you think it is. If you're planning to lay waste to the city yet again, be my guest.”

Giving no time for a response, you stalk off, weaving through the wreckage of the city streets, your heart still pounding in your chest.

—

A couple weeks have passed since the last incident, and the X-Men seem to have disappeared from the headlines. You haven’t seen them or heard their whereabouts splashed across the news like you’ve gotten used to—though not by choice, of course. Whenever they do anything, the world seems to bow at their feet.

You don’t get it.

The flashy suits, the team name, the way they strut around as if they’re the Gods of the mutant race. It’s too much, too loud. They act like they’re above it all, as if their powers and heroics put them on a pedestal. Better than those who prefer to lay low, who have no choice but to blend in.

You’ve spent years hiding your powers, keeping them buried deep where no one can see. When you were younger, you didn’t have a choice. Your mutation made you a target—bullied, beaten up, pushed around for being different.

You learned quickly that being a mutant didn’t make you special. It made you vulnerable.

So, you hid. You stayed quiet, under the radar. It was safer that way.

And then here are the X-Men, parading around like their abilities make them untouchable, like they’ve forgotten what it’s like for the rest of you. It’s not that you don’t believe in helping others—you just don’t believe in the way they do it.

In your opinion, it’s all performance. From what you’ve experienced and seen up close, they always arrive with a fanfare, ready to jump into action, and do whatever they can to exterminate the threat. Yet, when the dust settles, it’s mutants like you who are left to pick up the pieces.

The ones who don’t wear brightly coloured costumes or shout about unity. You’re the ones who have to keep moving, keep surviving, without any recognition.

But it's not like you need recognition. You never have. What you need is peace.

—

You’re on the phone with your mom, trying to reassure her for the millionth time this week.

"Yeah, yeah. Don’t worry, Mom, I’m fine," you say, pacing the length of your small living room. You glance at the muted TV screen, the news still cycling through the usual mayhem. "You’ve seen the news recently, right? We’ve got the X-Men to take care of all this stuff—"

Knock. Knock.

You freeze mid-sentence, your words trailing off as the sound of someone at your door interrupts the call. Your heart skips a beat, and your voice drops. "Mom, I’ll call you back."

Barely waiting for her to reply, you end the call, staring at the door like it might explode.

A knock at this hour? Unannounced? You waver, your mind racing with possibilities.

Delivery? A neighbour? You’re not expecting anyone.

Cautiously, you make your way toward the door, hand hovering over the handle as you listen. No more knocks, just the faint hum of the outside world. You take a breath, steeling yourself as you turn the handle and crack the door open.

The tufts of hair, the thick stubble, the edge in his eyes—it’s him. Wolverine. And just as your brain registers his face, you also notice the glint of metal where his claws are already halfway out.

Instincts kick in, and before he can get a word in, you push against the door, trying to slam it shut.

Still, he’s faster.

His fist punches through the wood, and with a metallic snikt, his claws extend fully, slicing through the door as if it were made of paper. He pushes it open again, forcing it against your effort, and the sheer strength sends you stumbling back.

“What the fuck?” you gasp, eyes wide as you steady yourself. “How did you even find me?”

Stepping inside, he says, “picked up your scent and followed it,” matter-of-factly, like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

For a moment, you just stare at him, dumbfounded. “That’s… that’s actually really creepy,” you manage, still trying to process the fact that he just said that without a hint of shame.

“Can’t control it, bub,” he shrugs.

You take a step back, putting more distance between you and the man with the claws standing in your apartment. “Okay, well, you found me. Now what?”

His eyes lock onto yours. “I need you to come with me.”

“Excuse me?” You cross your arms, eyebrows shooting up in disbelief.

“You’re not safe here.”

“Oh, I’m not safe?” you snap, sarcasm dripping from your voice. “Maybe if you and your merry band of idiots didn’t keep causing world-ending disasters, I wouldn’t need to be safe!”

He doesn’t even flinch. “Sentinels are tracking you down.”

You falter. “What are you talking about?”

“You used your powers,” he states. “Killed a Sentinel. That’s all it takes for them to target you.”

Blinking, you feel anger rush to the surface, your skin tingling with rage. “I didn’t kill anyone. They’re fucking robots.”

“They don’t see it that way,” he counters. “You took one down, and now they know what you are.”

Part of you knows there’s merit in what he’s saying, but you don’t want to hear it. The last thing you want is to be dragged into some mutant-robot war. “This is ridiculous. I didn’t ask for any of this!” you hiss, glaring at him. “And now you’re telling me I’m on some kill list because I defended myself? Because I defended you?!”

His eyes flicker with something you can’t quite read, but he stays silent, watching you carefully. Your words start flying faster now, venom spilling into each one.

“I’m the one who took that thing down because you and that one-eyed bitch boy were too busy being immature! You weren’t even paying attention, and that thing almost blasted you both.” Your fingers ball into fists. "I saved both of you, and now I’m the one who has to run?"

Logan's jaw clenches, his nostrils flaring at the accusation. “We weren’t—”

“Don’t even try to deny it,” you cut him off. “If it weren’t for me, the two of you would be dead right now. And now I’m supposed to just go with you to your mansion and hide out? Like that’s going to fix th—”

You don’t get to end your rant, because he has stepped forward, and grabbed your shoulders, gripping you firmly. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough to snap your attention back to him.

“This is serious,” he spits, eyes boring into yours. “You stay here, you die.”

His words slam into you. He’s not trying to scare you—he’s telling the truth.

“You don’t get to be stubborn about this,” he continues firmly. “You think you’re pissed off now? Wait until they come crashin' through your door in the middle of the night, and you don’t have a chance to fight back.”

Wrenching yourself out of his grasp, you take a few steps back. “I just—” you begin to say, but the words feel tangled in your throat. The denial is still there, but it’s weakening, cracking. “I don’t want to run.”

“You’re not running,” he sighs, his voice softening ever so slightly. “You’re buying time. Time to fight back, time to survive. But if you stay here? There’s none of that.”

You want to argue more, want to scream at him to get away, to not drag you into his fight, but instead, you let out a long, shaky breath, your shoulders slumping. “Fine,” you breath out.

He nods, finally releasing his grip on you and stepping back. “Good. Pack up your shit. We leave in half an hour.”

Then, he walks over to your couch and plops down like he owns the place, crossing his arms as if settling in for a casual wait.

You roll your eyes, muttering under your breath. “Unbelievable.”

Ignoring him, you turn and head into your bedroom, where you start throwing clothes into a duffel bag—jeans, a couple of shirts, whatever you can grab quickly. Your movements are hurried, fuelled by a mix of frustration and the creeping anxiety gnawing at the edges of your mind. Grabbing your toiletries, you stuff them into a smaller bag, trying to focus on the task at hand instead of the fact that some random mutant tracked you down, and now you have to leave your life until you’re safe.

You peer back into the hallway, hearing the faint creak of the couch as Logan shifts around. I’m gonna kill this guy, you think to yourself.

Once everything is packed and you’ve zipped your bag, you head back into the main room, only to see said random mutant still sprawled on your couch, looking far too comfortable, with a cigar in his hand.

“Seriously?” you say, slinging your duffel over your shoulder. “Make yourself at home, why don’t you.”

He grunts in response but doesn’t move. Typical.

You glance at the clock—still a few minutes left of the half-hour he allotted you, but there’s no point in dragging it out. “I’m ready,” you say flatly, heading toward the door.

Logan stands, stretches his arms over his head, and cracks his neck like he’s waking up from a nap. “Let’s go then.”

—

The ride is tense and quiet, which suits you just fine. You’d rather not talk to him anyway. Every now and then, you let out a loud sigh, unable to hold back the annoyance you’re feeling. Each time, you feel Logan’s eyes dart toward you from the driver’s seat, but he doesn’t say anything. Well, that is, until—

“Can you shut the fuck up?” he growls, keeping his eyes on the road.

You clench your jaw, shifting in your seat. “I didn’t even say anything, jackass.”

He huffs, clearly not in the mood for an argument, but the strain between you is almost impossible to ignore. You cross your arms, staring out the window, observing the landscape shift as the drive continues.

Eventually, you can see the outline of the mansion, and you watch as it gets bigger and bigger the closer you get. Upon arrival, He pulls the car up to the front and cuts the engine. You both sit there for a moment, mute.

“Well, here we are,” he mumbles after the pause stretches on for an uncomfortable amount of time, glancing over at you.

“Great,” you say sarcastically, unbuckling your seatbelt and pushing open the car door.

Logan walks ahead without saying a word, leading the way up the grand stone steps toward the front door. You trail behind, your mood darkening with every step, glaring at the perfectly polished entrance.

The doors open before you even reach them, and you’re greeted by an older man in a wheelchair—Charles Xavier, if you remember correctly. The famous telepath. The genius behind the mutant team (some news anchor's words, not yours). His expression is kind, but you’re in such a bad mood, you don’t even bother trying to seem polite.

“Welcome,” He says with a warm smile, his eyes assessing you with an intensity that makes your skin crawl. “Logan’s told me a lot about you.”

You press your lips together in a line. “Yeah? Well, don’t get too excited.”

Logan grunts beside you. “She’s got a bit of an attitude,” he mutters to Charles, then turns to you, gesturing you to follow him. “Come on.”

Inwardly groaning, you have no choice but to follow him. Everything about this place screams “too good to be true,” and you hate it already. You’re used to keeping your head down, blending in, not being surrounded by people who wear their powers on their sleeves like some badge of honour.

As you walk through the halls, a few faces appear—other mutants, some of them kids, watching curiously as you pass by. You can feel their eyes on you, can hear the whispers already starting about the new arrival.

Charles wheels alongside you, still smiling, but there’s a glint of amusement in his eyes. “You remind me of Logan when he first joined us,” he says thoughtfully.

That stops you in your tracks.

You whip your head toward the man, giving him a piercing look. “Do not say that. We are nothing alike.”

On your other side, Logan smirks. “Not sure if I should be offended or not.”

“I’m serious.” If looks could kill, he’d be six feet under.

Chucking softly, Charles seems completely unaffected by your outburst. “You’re both a bit rough around the edges, but you’ll find your place here.”

“Yeah, sure,” you say. “Because that’s exactly what I want to do.”

Deeper into the mansion, you catch sight of the X-Men you’ve seen before: Cyclops, Storm, Jean Grey. They all turn to look at you, sizing you up. You don’t flinch—you just stare back, your expression hard.

Pulling your duffel bag higher on your shoulder, you rip your eyes away from theirs, and keep walking, following Logan down the long, quiet hallway. Finally, he stops in front of a door.

“This is your room,” he grunts, nodding toward it. “Try not to break anything.”

Choosing silence, you push the door open. Stepping inside, you expect the bare minimum—a bed, maybe a closet—but instead, you’re met with a surprisingly large space. There’s a massive bed in the center of the room, a desk by the window, and, to your surprise, a set of glass doors leading out to a balcony.

You drop your bag by the door, glancing around, trying to shake off the unease. This is way too nice for a prisoner. You walk toward the balcony doors, curious despite yourself, and when you pull them open, the cool breeze hits you immediately.

Once you’re outside, you realize something that immediately makes your stomach drop.

The balcony is shared. And right next to your side, leaning against the railing with a cigar between his fingers, is Logan.

You halt mid-motion, eyes fixed on him in stunned silence. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

He glances over, a smirk playing on his lips as he takes a drag of his cigar. “Surprise.”

You groan, turning your back on him and walking toward the opposite edge of the balcony, trying to calm the annoyance inside you. Of all the people you could’ve been stuck beside, it had to be him. It’s not enough that he dragged you here, but now there’s a chance you’re going to have to see him every time you step outside.

“So what now?” you mutter, staring out over the mansion grounds, the manicured gardens below looking like something out of a postcard. “I’m just supposed to stay here, be a part of your little mutant club?”

Taking another slow pull on his cigar, “You’re supposed to stay alive. Everythin’ else? That’s up to you.”

“But why do you suddenly care?” you ask. “I’ve seen the way you operate. You and your team sweep in, fight your battles, and then leave everyone else in the dirt. You don’t care about the collateral damage—hell, you cause half of it.”

Logan pauses, his cigar halfway to his lips. He doesn’t answer right away, and the brief hesitation only makes your irritation spike. You press on, inching closer, voice laced with accusation.

“Why now?” you press. “Why drag me into this when you’ve never cared about anyone else in the crossfire?”

Logan finally turns to face you, exhaling a cloud of smoke before speaking, his expression hardened. “This ain’t about me ‘caring,’” he says flatly. “This is about survival. You killed a Sentinel, whether you like it or not. That puts a target on your back.”

“Yeah, you’ve made that very clear,” you bite out. “But you still haven’t answered my question. Why me? Why am I suddenly important to you?”

Logan’s eyes darken, drilling into yours. “You’re not important to me,” he says flatly. “But they won’t stop until they get you. The destruction that’ll come from that—if your stubborn ass fought back, which I know it would, by the way—would be much greater than anything we would cause.”

“Doubt that,” you snarl bitterly. You don’t linger for the sound of his response, spinning on your heel and walking back into your room, slamming the balcony door behind you.

The bed is large and you can’t deny how inviting it looks after the day you’ve had. You flop onto it face-first, letting out a long, drawn out sigh.

You’re barely able to reflect on the chaotic day you’ve had before your eyelids flutter shut, and you sink into a deep slumber, the exhaustion from everything catching up to you.

—

You’re jolted awake by a loud, aggressive knock on your bedroom door. The sound is so forceful it feels like the entire frame is rattling. You release a sound, half groan, half sigh, steeped in frustration. Your face is still buried in your pillow, and you curse whoever decided to ruin what little sleep you managed to get.

“Get up,” Logan’s gruff voice calls from the other side of the door. “We’re leaving for breakfast in ten.”

Ah yes. Of-fucking-course it's him. Who else would it be?

Dragging yourself out of bed, you throw on some clothes and make a half-hearted attempt to fix your hair before opening the door, ready to curse him, but he's already striding down the hallway, hardly bothering to check if you're following. You roll your eyes, your steps slow and begrudging as you move to follow

As you catch up, you can’t help but throw him a sideways glare. “Why are you acting like my personal bodyguard?”

“Gotta make sure you don’t do anything reckless.”

You scoff, crossing your arms as you fall into step beside him. “You don’t even know what I can do.”

Logan’s lips twitch into a lazy smirk, and you immediately want to wipe it off his face. “Exactly,” he says, his tone almost amused. “Which is why today, we’re gonna test you.”

You stop in your tracks, staring at his back. “Test me? What the hell does that mean?”

He stops too, turning to face you. “Means you’re gonna show me what you’re capable of.”

Teeth clenched, you feel the slow rise of aggravation mingling with apprehension. “I’m not some science experiment.”

“No,” he agrees, “but you’re not a regular person, either. You need to know your limits—and how to handle what’s coming.”

Groaning, you drag your hands down your face incredulously. “I don’t even know what to say back to that. All I know is that I’m hungry.”

—

The kitchen of Xavier’s mansion is bustling with activity as the two of you walk in. The rest of the team is gathered around a large table at the centre of the room, and you spot Jean, Cyclops, Storm, and a few others sitting together, chatting, but you feel no desire to join them.

Rather, you gravitate toward a smaller table by the window, hoping to get some peace while you choke down breakfast. The chair scrapes lightly as you pull it out and sit down, fully expecting to be left alone.

But to your surprise, Logan follows and plops down in the seat across from you.

You raise an eyebrow. “What are you doing?”

He shrugs and digs into his food. "Eating. You got a problem with that?"

You cast a quick look toward the large table where the rest of the team sits. It feels strange, having him eat with you, especially when the rest of his team is so obviously waiting for him to join them.

"No," you murmur, shaking your head as you return to your plate. "Just didn’t think you’d stray from the flock."

“They’re fine without me.”

You push your food around with your fork, trying to push past the heavy air of discomfort in the room. Everyone keeps glancing in your direction, and you sense their curiosity, the questions hovering in silence, but no one has the courage to ask. And honestly, you’re grateful for the space.

Just as you’re finishing up, a low voice catches your attention.

"I just don’t understand why they brought her here," Jean’s voice carries across the room, quieter than before, but still clear enough for you to hear. “She doesn’t seem like she has what it takes. It’s like they’re bringing in someone who’s—” She pauses, clearly thinking through her words. "Unstable. Weak.”

Tensing, your fork clatters onto your plate. The world around you dulls, and all you can hear is that word echoing in your head. Weak. You’ve been called a lot of things in your life, but never that.

Slowly, you push your chair back and stand up as you turn to face the table where she and the others are seated. “Say it louder, please,” you say calmly.

The chatter dies instantly, and suddenly, every set of eyes in the room finds you. Jean's face turns ashen, her eyes blown wide in shock. She wasn’t expecting you to overhear. Her mouth opens and closes, as if she’s trying to find a way to backtrack, but you know what you heard.

Before Jean can stammer out an excuse, Scott stands up, positioning himself between you and her, his jaw tight and his posture rigid. “You heard wrong,” he says sternly. “She didn’t mean anything by it.”

You take a calculated step forward, arms crossed in defiance. “Didn’t mean anything?” you repeat sarcastically. “She just called me weak. Right here. In front of everyone. You think I’m gonna let that slide?”

Scott’s jaw clenches tighter “She wasn’t trying to insult you. You’re new here. You don’t know how things work yet.”

“That’s the excuse?” you laugh dryly. “Maybe you should teach her how to keep her mouth shut instead of making assumptions about people she doesn’t know.”

If even possible, the friction between you swells, growing heavier with each passing second. Everyone in the room watches the standoff, some shifting uncomfortably in their seats, unsure of what’s going to happen next. You can feel Logan’s presence behind you, but he doesn’t interfere. He’s letting you handle this.

“You don’t belong here,” Scott states, like he’s trying to remind you of your place. “You’re not part of this team, and you sure as hell don’t understand what it takes to survive here.”

Raising an eyebrow, your lips curl into a smirk. “And what are you gonna do about it, One-eye? You gonna lecture me? Or better yet, why don’t you blast me with those laser eyes of yours? Show me how strong you are.”

His fists clench, and for a moment, you see the control slip. His visor glows red, just for a split second, as his anger spikes.

"Careful," you taunt, challenging him. "Wouldn’t want to lose control, would you? I'm sure you've never done that before."

That does it.

A beam shoots out from Scott’s visor. Fast, ferocious, and headed straight for you. There’s a collective gasp from the others, chairs scraping as people push back, shocked by the sudden escalation. But you don’t move. You stand your ground, your eyes locked onto Scott’s as the beam strikes you square in the chest.

You’re not knocked back, or worse, killed, as the energy from the blast surges into you. The energy seeps into your bones, crackling through every nerve. Your skin tingles as the power courses through you, your body absorbing every ounce of it. Once the assault is over, you raise your head, feeling your eyes and veins begin to glow with a deep, burning red.

Jean’s hand flies to her mouth, her eyes wide in disbelief.

Unfortunately for you, you don't get the chance to blow him to pieces, because Logan flies forward and grabs your arm, pulling you out of the room. Nobody else moves—too stunned—as he drags you into the hallway. You blink your eyes, the glow fading, but you can feel the residual energy from Scott’s blast still buzzing under your skin.

Both out of sight, he finally releases you.

You glare at him, still rattled from the confrontation. “What the hell? Why'd you interfere?”

He just shrugs, completely unfazed. “You handled yourself enough. Now we know what you can do. Follow me.”

“Follow you where?” you ask.

He motions down the hallway. “Danger Room. We’re gonna push those limits a little further.”

Gawking at him for a second, it takes a moment, but then you smirk. You want to know just how far your powers can go.

—

“Fuck!” you curse as you’re flung backward, your body slamming against a stone wall. Your back hits hard, knocking the wind out of you as the simulated-Sentinel hurls a car in your direction. The screech of metal fills the air as the vehicle crashes just mere inches from where you were standing moments ago.

Rubble showers from above, the robot in front of you towering menacingly. Raising its arm, another blast begins charging in its palm, ready to incinerate you.

You scramble to your feet, heart pounding in your chest as you sprint away, ducking and weaving between the wreckage of cars and crumbling buildings that make up the simulated cityscape. The Sentinel fires again, the blast narrowly missing as you dodge behind an overturned truck. Your breaths come in ragged gasps, every muscle screaming in protest.

I can’t keep this up.

Another blast lights up the area around you, and you dive out of the way, the heat of the attack singeing your skin. You’re quick, but not quick enough to outrun the onslaught from this machine.

Then it hits you—you don’t have to outrun it.

You remember the blast from way back, how your body absorbed the energy, and how in the dining hall, you took on Scott’s beam like it was nothing. You can do it again. You can take its power and turn it back on itself.

Gritting your teeth, you stop running. The air buzzes with electricity, the earth trembling beneath you as the next shot hurtles your way.

It hammers into your chest, and once again, your body is filled with energy. In an instant, you leap into the air, propelled by the newfound strength coursing through your body, and the ground disappears beneath you as you soar upward.

At the peak of your jump, you clench your fist, channeling all that power into one focused point. Then, you bring your fist down on the Sentinel’s head, the impact echoing through the simulation as your punch connects, and the robot’s head shatters under the blow, metal fragments flying in every direction as its massive body crumples to the ground.

Sparks shoot out of its severed neck, and with a final groan of machinery, the robot collapses into a heap of broken parts at your feet.

“Good work,” Logan’s voice crackles over the comms, far too calm for what you’ve just been through. “Let’s see how you handle another.”

There’s no time for more than a muttered curse under your breath, because another Sentinel is dropped into the simulation. This one’s faster, more agile, and doesn’t waste time by charging up blasts.

It exists solely to hunt you down.

“Cut me some slack,” you groan, half out of breath as you duck behind the ruins of a building. Your lungs burn as you try to breathe, adrenaline coursing through you like a wildfire.

This one isn’t like the last. It’s not using energy blasts—it’s fast, agile, and persistent. It rushes toward you, its massive hands swiping through the air, tearing through the simulated city with ease.

Grinding your teeth, a wave of exasperation takes over. This fight is harder, the machine barely giving you a chance to react, and your body is already starting to wear down. Your mind races, desperate for a solution as you sidestep its attacks, trying to stay one step ahead. You feel cornered, trapped.

The frustration builds, growing into something more, and before you realize it, that frustration becomes fuel. It ignites inside you, your own emotions transforming into energy, pushing past the limits you didn’t know you had.

Your veins pulse, your eyes glowing white this time, not from absorbed power but from something deeper—your own anger, your own strength. The energy bubbles inside you, filling every cell of your body until you can’t hold it back anymore.

With a scream, you release it, propelling a massive ball of crackling energy hurling toward the Sentinel. The impact is immediate, ripping through the metal and bursting into a brilliant, blinding light. It sends shockwave through the entire simulation, the machine imploding, its parts scattering across the battlefield.

And when the light fades, the Sentinel is gone—nothing more than a smouldering heap of twisted metal.

You stand there, chest heaving, the glow in your eyes slowly fading as the last traces of energy drain from your body. Your knees buckle, and before you know it, you crumble to the ground, utterly exhausted.

The simulation flickers for a moment, then abruptly shuts off, the room returning to its normal, metallic walls as the fake cityscape disappears. You’re still on the floor, gasping for breath, when Logan steps into view, arms crossed as he peers down at you with a pleased grin.

“Well,” he says, voice calm, “that wasn’t too bad.”

You shoot him a glare from the ground, too tired to move. “You… are such… an asshole.”

He chuckles, clearly enjoying himself. “Get up. We’re just getting started.”

—

He was right. You were just getting started.

The thought gnaws at you as you trudge alongside Logan, heading back to your room to clean up before dinner. Every muscle in your body aches, and you can already feel the soreness creeping in, promising a week of pain. You’re starting to suspect this is Logan’s way of getting back at you for all the snark and attitude you’ve thrown his way, but damn, is it painful. You don’t even want to think about how much worse you’re going to feel in the morning.

You feel like a zombie, dragging your feet, barely able to keep your eyes open. Your limbs feel heavy, like they’re made of lead, and each step invites fresh wave of exhaustion through your body. The man with you, of course, seems perfectly fine. He walks a few steps ahead of you, not even winded from the grueling day of combat drills, sparring, and whatever else he thought up to make sure you were put through the wringer.

“Maybe I should be a little nicer to you,” you rationalize, but who are you kidding.

With a terse grunt, he acknowledges you by tilting his head back. “You’ll live.”

You roll your eyes, though it’s half-hearted at best. You don’t even have the energy to be annoyed right now.

Upon reaching your room, you feel like you could collapse right then and there. You mumble something vaguely resembling ‘see you later’ to Logan before slipping inside, the door clicking shut behind you.

The first thing you do is toss your bag onto the floor, not caring where it lands, and head straight for the bathroom. You peel off your sweaty, dirt-covered clothes and step into the shower, letting the hot water wash away the grime of the day.

After that quick, blissful shower, you drag yourself out, towel off, and pull on the first comfortable clothes you can find. Your bed is calling to you, and it doesn’t take long for you to lie down on it. The softness of the mattress beneath you is heaven, and you think you might just fall asleep right there and take a small nap before heading to eat.

But then, out of the corner of your eye, you notice the light pouring in through the balcony doors. The warm, golden glow of the setting sun catches your attention, and despite how drained you are, you find yourself turning to look.

What you see is breathtaking. Shades of pink, orange, and deep purple.

It’s too beautiful to ignore.

Groaning again, you force yourself to sit up, rubbing your eyes. You can’t help it. Something about the sight draws you in, and before you know it, you’re standing and heading toward the balcony. You slide the door open and step outside, the evening breeze washing over you as you lean against the railing, taking in the view.

A few minutes pass, the world around you quiet except for the gentle rustling of the leaves in the wind. The sound of Logan’s door sliding breaks your focus. You glance over just as he steps out onto his side of the shared balcony, wearing nothing but a white tank top and jeans.

Saying nothing, he steps beside you at the railing, resting against it as his eyes scan the horizon.

You sneak a look at him out of the corner of your eye, trying not to make it obvious. His arms are crossed over the railing, and it’s almst impossible not to notice the way the tank top lets you see his biceps, the muscles in his arms strong from the day’s activity. You are a woman, after all.

He looks relaxed. His stubble catches the last bits of the sunlight, and as your gaze travels upward, you notice something you hadn’t bothered to see before.

The crinkles at the sides of his eyes. They’re faint, barely there, but in this light, they’re more visible, adding something unexpectedly... soft to his otherwise intimidating appearance.

Cute, you think absentmindedly, then pause.

What the fuck?

You snap your gaze back to the sunset, feeling a sudden surge of embarrassment creeping up your neck. You just spent the entire day getting your ass handed to you by this man, and now you’re here checking out his arms? His arms? And thinking the crinkles around his eyes are cute? Suppressing a groan, you want to slap yourself for even entertaining the thought.

Nope. Absolutely not. You’re not going down that road.

Taking a deep breath, you try to bring your attention back to the sunset. The reason you went outside to begin with. You have no idea why you’re suddenly noticing these things about him—probably exhaustion making your brain short-circuit.

Yup. That’s it.

He shifts slightly beside you, breaking the silence. “Nice view"

You nod, swallowing down the weird feelings swirling in your head. “Yeah,” you mumble, not trusting yourself to say anything more without sounding ridiculous.

The two of you stand there for a few more minutes, watching as the last rays of the sun disappear, the sky dimming into deep purples and blues. But the minute your thoughts start to drift back to him, you straighten up, clapping your hands together and quickly turning on your heel to head back inside.

“Well, I’m done,” you say abruptly. “I’m gonna crash.”

Logan doesn’t move, but you can feel his eyes following you as you slide the door closed behind you, your mind still reeling from whatever the hell that was.

Collapsing back onto your bed, you pull the covers up to your chin, determined to forget about the whole thing.

—

A few hours later, when it’s dark out, you finally wake up. The room is dim, and for a moment, you just lie there, blinking at the ceiling. As you start to roll over, something catches your attention—a smell.

It's warm, savoury. Your stomach growls almost immediately, making you realize with a start that you slept through dinner.

Groggily, you sit up, rubbing your eyes, and that’s when you spot it—a tray of food sitting on the desk in your room. You can make out the outline of a warm meal: some kind of stew, a couple of bread rolls, and what looks like a glass of water. Your stomach growls again, louder this time, as you climb out of bed and shuffle toward the desk, turning on the light.

Next to the tray, there’s a small note:

Figured you’d be too tired to get dinner. Eat up.

– L

You stare at the note. Logan? Bringing you food? It doesn’t exactly fit with the version of him you’ve been dealing with all day, but then again, there seems to be a lot about him that doesn’t quite fit the mold you expected.

Too hungry to keep thinking and not eat, you set the note down and grab the spoon, dipping it into the stew. The first bite warms you from the inside out, and you let out an involuntary sigh of relief.

Surprisingly flavourful—rich and nourishing, it’s the perfect remedy for the exhausting day behind you

Still, you can’t help your eyes from wandering back to the note. Maybe it really is the fatigue messing with your head again, making you chalk it up to be something it’s not.

—

The next morning, you're not woken up by banging on your door, which is a relief. You stretch, the soreness still lingering but not nearly as bad as you expected. After freshening up and pulling on some clothes, you step into the hallway, and unexpectedly, Logan is already waiting for you.

He’s leaning against the wall, arms crossed, and you blink at him, still waking up, unsure why he’s there. “Uh... morning?” you get out, albeit you can’t hide the confusion in your tone.

A short nod in greeting. “Morning. Ready for breakfast?”

You hesitate for a moment, then decide to take the plunge. “Yeah I am, but…um, thanks for the food last night, it was good.” you say quietly, almost embarrassed to admit it.

The gesture had caught you off guard, and though you don’t want to make a fuss, it’s worth noting

“Don’t mention it,” he shrugs casually.

Nodding in understanding, you’re ready to move on when he adds, almost offhandedly, “Y’know, you’re actually kinda pretty when you’re asleep. Not being a little shit helps.”

You freeze mid-step, your mind short-circuiting for a moment as you process the words that just left his lips.

Flustered and irritated all at once, you glare at him. “Excuse me?”

Logan smirks, the corners of his mouth twitching as he starts walking down the hall toward the kitchen. “You heard me.”

Your face heats up. “I am not a little shit,” you yelp, quickening your pace to catch up to him.

“Could’ve fooled me,” he says, gazing at you from over his shoulder. You open your mouth to fire back, but the smug look in his eyes makes you hesitate.

He’s messing with you on purpose.

Asshole, you think, fuming but trying to ignore the way your stomach flipped when he called you pretty.

—

The kitchen goes silent the moment you and Logan step through the door, a noticeable difference from yesterday. All eyes are locked on you, the pressure in the room almost solid, begging to be cut through.

Students and X-Men alike are watching, probably expecting some kind of replay of the day prior's events, but you pay them no mind, keeping your eyes straight ahead and making a beeline for a table at the back.

You drop into a seat, picking up a piece of toast and acting like the room isn’t on high alert. Logan joins you again without a word, sitting across from you and digging into his food. He doesn’t even glance at the others, as if the room full of curious onlookers doesn’t exist.

The only sounds are the clink of silverware and voices slowly picking up again as people realize nothing dramatic is about to happen.

Chewing, you glance at the man across from you, still quietly working through his meal. You swallow, then clear your throat. “So... what’s the plan for today?”

He looks up from his plate. “Charles wants to see you this morning.”

You frown, unsure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. “Why? Did I break something without knowing it?”

He snorts, shaking his head. “No, you’re not in trouble, smartass. He’s just gonna fill you in on some things. Mainly the Sentinels.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. You need to know what you’re up against, what we’re all dealing with. He’ll catch you up to speed.”

“Great,” you mutter. “More bad news.”

The clawed mutant leans back in his chair, watching you for a moment before speaking again. “Look, it’s not gonna be fun, but you need to know. Better to hear it from him than from me.”

“I’ll take that as your way of saying ‘good luck,” you breathe out.

He smirks. “You’re gonna need it.”

Logan finishes his meal and stands up, leaving his empty plate behind. “I’ll drop you off at Charles’s office. You’ll be with him for the morning.”

You follow suit, pushing away your half-eaten plate. “Fantastic,” you mumble sarcastically, but at the same time, you know this is necessary. After all, the threat you’re dealing with is real, and being ignorant about it won’t do you any good.

—

“So, how can they be stopped?”

You ask the question before you even sit down. Charles is already waiting for you in his office, his hands folded neatly on the desk, his gaze calm and soft.

He takes a measured breath, glancing toward the window for a moment before responding. “Stopping the Sentinels is... complicated. They’ve grown more advanced than we ever anticipated.”

“I gathered that.”

“They are highly adaptive machines,” he continues. “Designed to hunt and neutralize mutants, they learn from every encounter. They absorb information, adjust tactics, and over time, they become more effective.”

His words make you squirm with discomfort, and you glance around the room, trying to distract yourself from the knot forming in your stomach.

“And now I’m one of their targets,” you say quietly, more to yourself than to him.

Leaning forward slightly, he says, “Yes. They’ve already locked onto you because of your encounter with them. They don’t differentiate between self-defence and aggression. They see you as a target, simply because you fought back.”

You exhale sharply. “So, what’s your plan?”

Charles meets your gaze. “There is a command center—a hub that controls their network. If we can locate it and destroy it, we believe it will disrupt the entire Sentinel operation. Without the command structure, the Sentinels will become non-functional.”

You stare for a beat, mentally piecing together the details. “You believe?”

“It’s our best theory,” he says evenly. “We’ve been gathering intel for some time now. And we’re planning a mission. A final push to put an end to this threat once and for all.”

The words linger, thick and weighty, in the space between you, You can sense where this is going. Your fingers drum against your arm, a nervous habit you can’t seem to shake.

“You want me to be a part of it.”

He remains unfazed. “I believe you have an ability that could be crucial to the mission. You’ve already demonstrated your capability against the Sentinels in training yesterday, and in real life.”

A bitter scoff escapes your lips before you can stifle it. “Yeah, but I’m not one of you. I don’t want to be part of some... grand battle. That’s not me.”

Watching you closely, his gaze is soft with comprehension. “I understand your reluctance,” he says gently. “But running, hiding... it won’t change the fact that they will find you. Fighting may not have been your choice, but now it is your reality.”

Standing, you begin to pace the room. “This is exactly the problem I have with your team,” you say, stopping near the window, staring out at the garden. “We hardly know eachother, yet you want me to be part of some mission that could very well be catastophic. It’s like you don’t care about anything except the big picture.”

Charles’s expression doesn’t change. He definitely expected this. “We aren’t perfect,” he admits, “and our battles have left scars. But this is about survival. For all of us. For you.”

Turning back to face him, you narrow your eyes. “And if I say no?”

“I won’t force you,” His voice is understanding. “The choice is yours. But know that the Sentinels will not stop. You can avoid the fight for as long as you like, but eventually, it will come to you.”

It’s as if you're stuck, with nowhere to turn, cornered by a reality you didn’t want any part of. Avoiding it doesn’t seem like an option anymore, but fighting alongside the X-Men feels like betraying everything you’ve tried to distance yourself from.

Sighing, “I’ll think about it.”

—

When you get back to your room, the first thing you do is swing open your balcony door and step outside. The afternoon sun comes over you like a blanket, warming you up, and relieving some of the strain in your muscles. Logan is out on the balcony too, leaning against the railing, a cigar lit between his fingers. It’s a sight you think you should get used to.

His eyes flick to you when you approach, but he doesn’t say anything at first. Without a word, he holds the roll of tobacco out toward you, as if he knows exactly what’s on your mind.

You pause briefly, for just a second before taking it from him. The rich, earthy taste of the cigar fills your mouth as you inhale deeply, the smoke heavy and warm in your lungs. There’s something grounding about it, even though the burn is rough against your throat. You let out a slow exhale, watching the smoke curl into the night air as you lean next to him against the railing.

“How’d it go?” he asks gruffly.

“He wants me to join you guys on the mission.”

At first, Logan doesn’t react, then, he just takes the cigar back, puffing on it and blowing a cloud of smoke into the air. “What do you want to do?”

It’s the same question that’s been clawing at your insides since you left Charles’s office. What do you want? It feels like the answer should be simple, but it’s anything but.

“I don’t know,” you confess quietly. “I want to get rid of the threat and go back to my normal life, but if I do, then I'd just become the very thing I'm against, right? I can’t join you guys, that’s not who I am.”

He hums softly.

Shifting a bit, you try to find the words to explain the knot of irritation tangled inside you. “I get it, you know? I get why you guys do what you do. Someone has to. But the way you do it—so carefree about everything. It’s like the destruction, the people, the lives caught in the midst of everything—it doesn’t even phase you.”

“We don’t do it carefree,” he says lowly. Inhaling into the cigar once more, the tip glowing red. “But sometimes, you gotta make a choice between bad and worse. People get hurt. But if we don’t stop the threats, a lot more people are gonna die.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, feeling the tension coil tighter in your chest. “And that’s what I hate about it.”

Flicking the ash from the end of his cigar, his eyes are distant, lost in thought momentarily before he responds. “I’m not gonna lie to you and say it’s easy. It ain’t. We all carry the weight of the things we’ve done—the things we couldn’t stop. But if not us, then who?”

“That’s an impossible decision,” you say. There’s no way you can go into this fight, knowing how much of a toll it’s going to take on everything. The fight itself is such a small piece to the puzzle.

Logan leans his elbows on the railing. “You think I wanted this?” he asks, his voice low, almost like he’s talking to himself. “I was just like you. Didn’t want nothin’ to do with the team or their battles.”

The comparison makes you grimace. “Great. That’s exactly what I want to hear.”

He chuckles, the sound rough but not unkind. “I’m serious, bub. For years, I didn’t want to be part of this... circus. Figured I’d be better off on my own, that I was above it all.”

You quirk a brow. “Then what changed?”

“It’s not like a switch flipped,” he replies, a bit quieter. “I just realized that fighting alone is harder than fighting with a team. The X-Men... they gave me somethin’. A place. Belonging. Doesn’t mean I agree with everything they do, but it’s better than wanderin’.”

That makes you scoff. “Yeah, well, you heard it yourself. Scott said I don’t belong here. Jean thinks I’m weak. Doesn’t exactly scream ‘welcome to the team,’ does it?”

His brow furrows, his eyes narrowing, as he straightens and looks at you. “Scott talks too much, and Jean—she’s cautious. Doesn’t mean she’s right.”

“Doesn’t mean she’s wrong either,” you mumble. “They don’t trust me.”

“They didn’t trust me when I first joined either, but you get better. You learn.”

“I don’t want to be like you,” you hiss before you can stop yourself, and you immediately regret the heat in your words.

He doesn’t look offended—just tired. “Didn’t say you should,” he starts. “But you can’t keep shunnin’ us.”

“So what do I do now?”

Taking one last drag of his cigar before flicking it over the balcony railing, Logan watches the embers fall before he speaks. “The mission’s in a week. You’ve got that long to figure it out.”

He turns to leave, but before he goes, he glimpses at you from over his shoulder. “This battle, it’s inevitable. Question is—how do you want to face it?”

—

You’ve never been so conflicted. This choice–to join, or not to join—is probably the hardest decision you’ve had to make in your entire life. You have seen first hand what happens when the X-men decide to stop a threat. What innocent people have to go through to rebuild their lives from the ground up. Both literally and figuratively.

And to then become someone who causes that pain? It feels like betrayal. Like going against yourself—your morals.

But then there’s the other side of it—the part of you that knows sitting here, doing nothing, isn’t right either. You know you have the strength to fight back. You have the power to help. And doing nothing… doesn’t that make you just as bad? If you have the ability to stop something, to protect people, and you don’t—what does that make you?

It’s a lose-lose situation. The X-Men don’t even want you there—aside from Logan and Charles. You can see it in the way their eyes follow you wherever you go, untrusting. They’ve made their opinion on you clear.

You lower your head into your hands, stressed. You can’t join a team that doesn’t want you, but sitting on the sidelines when you could be fighting—that makes you feel like a coward. And maybe even worse—a bad person.

Finally, with a deep breath, you come to a decision. It’s not perfect, and it sure as hell doesn’t feel good, but it’s the only choice you can make right now. You’ll join them—for this mission only.

You’ll help take down the Sentinels, and then, when it’s done, you’ll leave. You’ll go back to your life, maybe you can find a middle ground, where you’re not one of them, but you’re no longer hiding from the mutant part of yourself.

If something happens, if you do something you regret, then you'll just have to live with it.

—

In the afternoon, you don’t do much. You were supposed to be training with Logan, but Charles had called him into a quick meeting, leaving you to wander the halls aimlessly.

Rounding a corner, you stop short when you see the rest of the team—Scott, Jean, Ororo, and Hank—talking near a meeting room. They’re deep in conversation, but as soon as you come into view, their attention shifts toward you.

Your stomach tightens, and for a brief second, you consider just turning around and walking in the other direction. But it’s too late; they’ve already seen you.

Jean’s eyes meet yours, and her expression flickers with something that looks like discomfort before she quickly smooths it over. “Hey,” she says carefully. “I just wanted to apologize for what I said yesterday. I didn’t mean to make you feel like you didn’t belong.”

Her tone is polite, but distant. It’s clear this apology isn’t driven by genuine remorse—it’s more about smoothing over the awkwardness from yesterday’s standoff. You can feel that. You see the way she looks at you, not quite meeting your eyes, and you know this is just a formality for her.

Still, you’re not looking to start more drama, and you don’t want to engage in any more confrontations, especially when you’re already planning to leave. You nod, keeping your expression neutral. “It’s fine. Let’s just move on.”

Behind her, you catch a glimpse of Scott, his arms crossed. Even though you can’t see his eyes, it’s obvious he’s glaring at you.

Ororo steps forward, her hand finding your arm, and the touch is gentle, reassuring. “Joining the team isn’t easy,” she says kindly. “But we’ve all faced our own challenges. If you ever need someone to talk to, or help with anything, I’m here.”

“You’ve got potential,” Hank chips in from beside her. “It takes time to settle in, but I’m sure you’ll find your place.”

His words are well-meaning, and you can see that he believes what he’s saying. But what they don’t know is that you’ve already made up your mind. You’re not staying any longer than you have to.

You don’t plan on finding your place here because, frankly, you don’t believe there is one for you. Not with Scott’s distrust, Jean’s cautious distance, and the way you know you can’t be part of a team that doesn’t care about anything but themselves. You keep your thoughts to yourself, pressing your lips into a thin smile instead.

“Yeah,” you say vaguely, not wanting to ruin the moment. “Thanks.”

“I guess we’ll all see soon enough,” Your eyes snap to Scott, who has finally decided to break his silence. His voice is cold, but you can feel and edge to it, one that’s trying to provoke you.

You meet his gaze—or at least the visor—and feel your jaw tighten. “Guess so,” you reply, matching his tone. Turning, you walk away, finding another place to lounge until Logan is free.

—

The mansion’s library is massive, filled with towering shelves and the scent of old books. It’s quieter here, the kind of silence you can sink into, and after the awkward run-in with the rest of the team, it feels like the perfect place to retreat. You find a comfortable armchair tucked into a corner, grab a random book off the shelf—some old novel you’ve never heard of—and settle in.

For a while, you manage to lose yourself in the pages. The story isn’t particularly gripping, but it’s enough to take your mind off of things. But then, a shadow falls over you, covering the words in a dark grey haze.

“Hey, bub.”

You blink, looking up to find Logan standing over you. “What?” you ask, annoyed at being interrupted but also not surprised. It’s Logan, after all.

“You’ve been hiding in here long enough,” he says, raising an eyebrow. “Come on, time to head back.”

Rolling your eyes you snap the book shut, dropping it onto the table beside you. “I wasn’t hiding, I was reading,” you shoot back, standing up and stretching out your legs. “There’s a difference, y’know.”

“Sure there is,” he huffs, clearly not buying it. “Let’s go.”

As you reach the hallway where your rooms are, Logan pauses, glancing toward his door. “You wanna come in for a bit? Talk?”

You’re a little bit taken aback. You didn’t peg him as the "sit down and talk" type, but he seems genuine. Or maybe he wants to keep you awake for dinner this time. Either way, you nod. “Sure.”

Inside his room, it’s about what you’d expect—minimalist, practical, with a few personal touches. A bed that looks like it’s seen better days, a couple of old books, and the scent of cigars lingering in the air. Logan sits down on the bed, leaning back against the headboard, and gestures for you to join him.

There’s a moment where you’re just standing there, staring, but then you flop down beside him, sitting cross-legged at the edge of the bed. For a few beats, there’s silence. Logan pulls out a cigar but doesn’t light it, just turns it between his fingers.

“I’ve decided,” you say finally, breaking the quiet. “I’ll go on the mission.”

He doesn’t respond, his eyes flicking to yours, waiting for you to continue.

“But,” you add, crossing your arms over your chest, “I’m not promising to stay after. This doesn’t mean I’m all in on your little X-Men gig.”

He grunts, a half-smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. “Knew you’d say that.”

Your brows pinch together your, lips pulling into a frown. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Means you’re stubborn as hell,” he teases.“Always gotta fight against the grain, even when you know what’s best for you.”

Sighing, you turn your head to look at him fully. “I truly believe you are the only person who actually believes that.”

He chuckles softly but doesn’t argue. “Charles gave me more details about the mission.”

That catches your attention, and you sit up a little straighter. “Yeah? Where are we going?”

Logan hesitates for a moment, as if choosing his words carefully. “It’s... in the city.”

“The city? What city?”

“New York.”

Your heart drops. “New York?” You repeat, your voice rising in disbelief.

Giving you a slow nod, it’s like he's gauging your reaction. “The Sentinels’ command centre is located in some high-security facility downtown.”

You push yourself up off the bed, pacing across the room. “So, what, we are just going to storm in? Into one of the most populated cities in the world? Do you realize how many people could get caught in the middle of that?”

He stands up after you, but he doesn’t try to stop your pacing. “We’ve fought in cities before. We know what we’re doing.”

You whip around to face him. “Yeah, you’ve fought in cities before, and destroyed them! Some places are still rebuilding, and it’s been years!”

“I get it, alright?” He says, taking a step closer to you. “It’s not perfect. But if we don’t stop the Sentinels now, it’ll be a hell of a lot worse than a few broken buildings.”

“‘A few broken buildings’?” you echo. “What about the casualties that’ll come from it? We’re talking about innocent lives here, Logan!”

He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly trying to keep his temper in check. “I know that! You think I don’t know what’s at stake? But we don’t have another option. We need to hit them where it counts, and that’s in the middle of the damn city.”

“There has to be a better way,” you plead. "Can't we try and evacuate everyone beforehand?"

"No," he says remorsefully. "If we do that, the Sentinels will catch on. It's unavoidable."

“I can't accept that," you say.

Logan’s eyes meet yours, and for the first time, there’s a flash of something more vulnerable in his gaze. “I’ll talk to the team. I’ll make sure we go in smart. We’ll try our best to keep people safe. I promise you that.”

You stop pacing, your frustration still simmering but tempered by his words. It’s not exactly the reassurance you were hoping for, but the sincerity in his voice gets to you.

“And what if you can’t?” you challenge quietly.

His face softens just a bit, and he steps closer. “We deal with it, and we’ll do everything we can to make it right.”

He watches you, his eyes searching yours. “Look, I get why you’re pissed. I’d be too if I were you," he continues. "But we don’t have time to sit around debating. I’ll do what I can to keep it from getting ugly. That’s the best I can offer.”

Letting out a heavy sigh, you know there’s no way around it. “Fine. Just... make sure the team knows. No reckless destruction, alright?”

Logan’s lips curve into a small smirk, but there’s an underlying tenderness to it. “I promise.”

—

The last few days before the the mission zip by in a flash. Each day, your muscles ache, and exhaustion clings to you like a second skin. You spend most of your time either training or collapsed in your room, too tired to do much else.

Except one afternoon, you sit in on a lecture, because it turns out, not only is Logan a huge pain in the ass, he’s also a professor.

Curiosity got the better of you, you’d say. The topic—mutant biology—sounds interesting enough, and you’ve heard from some of the students within the hallways that his classes are, well, something. So, naturally, you had to see it for yourself.

You slip into the lecture hall just as Logan starts speaking. He’s standing at the front of the room, pointing to some diagram on the chalkboard. The students around you are already scribbling notes, staring at him with wide-eyed fascination—or fear, perhaps. He has that effect on people.

Finding a seat in the back, you hurry over, trying to keep quiet, not wanting to interrupt. But the second you sit down, you feel Logan’s eyes on you, his voice pausing for just a moment. You look up, catching his gaze.

“Well, well, look who decided to join us,” he says, loud enough for the entire room to hear.

“Just here to observe, don’t mind me,” you huff, sinking back into the seat.

The lecture goes on, and to your surprise, Logan’s actually a decent teacher. He explains complex concepts with clarity, not that you’d actually tell him that. It’s quite interesting, if you’re being honest.

You lean back in your chair, listening, but you’re not exactly paying close attention. That is, until he stops the lesson to single you out. “Hey, you in the back,” he says. “Since you’re just ‘observing,’ how about answering a question?”

“Me?” You blink, caught off guard.

“Yeah, you,” he confirms, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You’ve been sittin’ there long enough. Time to show the class what you’ve learned.”

“I wasn’t exactly paying attention,” you respond tightly, gritting your teeth together, holding yourself back from a few choice words.

The class falls silent, the students watching the exchange with wide eyes. You can practically feel their amusement radiating from them as Logan raises an eyebrow.

“That’s obvious,” he deadpans, eliciting a few snickers from the front row. “So, maybe you’ll start now. Can you explain the connection between mutation and enhanced physical abilities?”

Staring back at him blankly, you fold your arms across your chest. “Not my area of expertise, Professor Wolverine.”

He doesn’t seem fazed as the room erupts into quiet laughter. A small sigh, "if you’re gonna sit in on my class, you could at least try to learn something.”

“No thanks.”

It’s obvious that this little back-and-forth is amusing to the class. If you were anyone else, he probably would have kicked you out by now. One of the students leans toward another and whispers something, and you catch the way their eyes dart between you and the professor.

“Alright, enough,” Logan says, trying to regroup the class, turning back to the chalkboard. “We’ve got a lot to cover, and some of us actually want to learn.” He casts you a sideways glance, and you can’t help but scoff.

When the lecture ends, the students file out quickly, but not without a few lingering glances in your direction. You’re making your way to the door when Logan grabs your arm, preventing you from moving. “You should’ve just answered the damn question,” he mutters.

“I didn’t know the answer,” you shoot back, shifting up to face him. “And I didn’t come here to get grilled in front of your students.”

He grunts, his expression softening just a bit. “Just tryin’ to get you to pay attention, is all.”

Before you can respond, you catch a flicker of movement in Logan’s gaze, his eyes darting briefly down to your lips. The shift is so subtle, so minute, but also so there.

Where did that come from?

Clearing your throat, you look away, suddenly unable to look him in the eyes. “Yeah, well, maybe ask one of your actual students next time.”

He chuckles under his breath. “Not as fun.”

—

During this time, you occasionally explore the mansion, but by the time evening rolls around, you’re usually too wiped out to care. Logan’s a beast in the training room, and with no real combat experience of your own, you’re left scrambling just to keep up.

However, on the last day before the assignment, something finally clicks.

You’re in the middle of a sparring match, circling each other, both of you drenched in sweat. Logan’s eyes are sharp, watching your every move, as if he’s waiting for you to slip up. His smirk is just as infuriating as ever, like he knows exactly how this will end.

“Gonna stand there all day, or you actually planning to make a move?” he taunts, dodging as you swing at him.

You grit your teeth, refusing to let him get in your head. You’re tired—completely worn out—but you push through how depleted you feel, focusing on his movements. He feints to the left, and you react on instinct, dodging his punch and sweeping your leg low.

Before you know it, Logan’s on the ground.

Quickly, you scramble to straddle him and hold him down. You did it—you actually got him!

Your breath comes in ragged gasps as you look down at him. Beneath you, his chest rises and falls, and his eyes meet yours. His gaze drifts lower, and you notice his fingers twitching at his sides, like he's fighting some internal battle.

When his eyes travel up to yours again, something in his expression makes you swallow hard and panic.

"Hell no!" you blurt out, breaking the moment with a sudden yelp. You scramble off of him, putting some much-needed distance between you.

He sits up, wiping a bit of sweat from his brow, his features unreadable. Then, as if nothing just happened, he smirks. “You finally got me. Took you long enough.”

You huff, still trying to shake off the weird atmosphere. “Yeah, don’t get too comfortable. Next time won’t take as long.”

Chuckling, he gets up to his feet and dusts himself off. He glances down at his watch, then back at you. “Look at that. It’s dinner time. Last meal before the mission.”

You wrinkle your nose. “I’m not really in the mood. Think I’ll just grab something later.”

He crosses his arms, giving you a look. “You can’t avoid them forever.”

“I’m not avoiding anyone,” you protest, though you know it sounds weak. “I just... don’t feel like sitting around making small talk, especially before... you know, tomorrow.”

He lets out a sigh, stepping closer. “Look, it’s the last night before everything kicks off. You should join us—one last meal, then you can go back to brooding in your room if you want.”

“I don’t brood,” you glare.

“Right,” he says, even though you know he’s not actually agreeing. “You gonna come or do I need to drag you?”

“You wouldn’t.”

Logan raises an eyebrow, like he’s daring you to test him. You sigh, knowing you’re not going to win this one.

“Fine,” you grumble, wiping the sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand. “But I’m not talking to Scott.”

His grin widens, and he gestures for you to follow him.

—

So, here you are, sitting at the dining table for the first time with the rest of the team. It feels weird, almost surreal, to be part of this group—especially when you’re not even sure you want to be.

You idly prod your meal, feeling out of place. It isn’t long before Hank turns to you with a curious smile. “So, are you feeling ready for tomorrow?”

Just as you draw breath to speak, Scott's voice interrupts, cold and cutting. “She’s going to be a liability.”

Your fork halts mid-motion, and in an instant, the tension that had been fading throughout the week comes back full throttle. The clatter of dishes around you fades as everyone’s attention shifts to Scott’s biting remark.

He doesn’t look at you—just stares straight ahead, as if unable to own up to even himself. You’re so pissed off that you don't even notice the voice that speaks at the same time you do.

“Shut up, Summers,”

“Shut up, One-Eye”

It’s like the entire room goes silent. Jean glances between you and Logan, her brows raised, and Hank looks mildly shocked, though he tries to hide it with a quick sip of water. You can practically feel the heat of Scott’s glare, even through the visor. He opens his mouth to say something, but before he can, a loud laugh breaks the tension.

Ororo, sitting beside Logan, is chuckling, shaking her head with an amused grin on her face. “You two really are perfect for each other,” she says.

Of all the things you were expecting to hear, that was not one of them. “W-what?” you stammer, mouth dropping open in shock.

She just smiles, eyes twinkling. “Just an observation.”

You know your face is burning, and when you glance over at Logan, you notice something unusual—the tips of his ears are red.

That only makes things worse. Especially after what happened while sparring earlier. You turn your focus onto your plate, trying to hide your rattled state by shoving a forkful of food into your mouth.

Perfect for each other? Yeah, right.

But when you peek up at him again through your lashes , making eye contact for just a second before he looks away, your heart skips a beat.

You’re screwed.

—

That night, you barely sleep. Whether it's from the nerves about the mission, or from your jumbled-up thoughts about a certain someone, you can't tell. In any case, you’re wide awake.

You keep fighting the urge to go out onto the balcony—you know the cool night air would help calm you down, and the quiet would give you space to breathe. But there’s a problem. You’re not sure you want to run into Logan again. After Ororo’s comment about the two of you being perfect for each other, you don't think you could trust yourself around him.

With a frustrated sigh, you toss and turn in bed, kicking off the sheets and then pulling them back up, trying to find a comfortable position. But it’s no use.

You’re about to throw the pillow across the room out of sheer annoyance, when there’s a knock on your door.

You freeze. Who could possibly—

“Stop tossing around like a maniac, I can hear you from inside my room” Logan’s rough voice grumbles from the other side.

Goddamn it. It's always him.

Your eyes widen, and you sit up in bed. “What the hell?” you call back, feeling both surprise and embarrassment.

The door creaks open slightly, and Logan leans against the frame, arms crossed, his usual scowl on his face. “You’re keepin’ the whole damn mansion up with all that noise.”

“I didn’t realize you had super hearing,” you mutter, pulling the blanket up to your chest, feeling a little exposed.

He raises an eyebrow and steps into the room, closing the door behind him. “Doesn’t take super hearing to catch that all that ruckus,” he says, walking over and sitting down on the edge of your bed without waiting for an invitation.

You sit up a little straighter, your heart still racing. “What are you doing here, Logan?”

Shrugging, he leans back against the headboard, his arms crossing over his chest. “Figured you might need to talk or somethin’. You’re clearly not sleeping.”

Moving to sit beside him, you lean back against the headboard, your shoulder just brushing his. “I’m just… nervous, I guess.”

He turns his head slightly, glancing at you. “You’ll be fine. You’ve got more strength in you than you realize.”

His words sink in, and you bite your lip. “What if I mess up? What if I end up hurting someone, or doing more harm than good?”

"Don't think about that," he says. "Just be in the moment. You'll know what to do."

Nodding, you feel your eyelids grow heavier, and you find yourself sinking further into the comfort of the bed, your head dipping lower. Being here, on your bed, next to Logan, is strangely comforting. His scent, combined with his voice, starts to lull you into a strange sense of peace.

“I don’t know if I—” you start to say, but your words trail off, your voice barely a whisper. You don't know when it happens, but your eyes close, and your head gently falls onto his shoulder.

You’re too tired to feel embarrassed, too comfortable to pull away. His body is solid and warm, and the rhythm of his breathing is soothing.

And when you wake up the next morning, you find yourself tucked neatly under your covers, a glass of water on your bedside table.

—

The inside of the Blackbird is spacious. You’re leaning against the wall, watching the rest of the team gear up, when Logan approaches. He’s holding something in his hands—a blue and yellow uniform folded neatly, clearly meant for you.

You glance at the uniform, then back at him, a frown tugging at the corners of your mouth. “No.”

He raises an eyebrow, his gaze narrowing. “What do you mean, ‘no’?”

Pushing yourself off the wall, “I’m not wearing that thing.”

He lets out an exasperated sigh, glancing down at the uniform before meeting your eyes again. “You sure about that? We’re going in as a team. You might as well look the part.”

“I don't care. I'm not part of the team, anyway,” you reply.

He narrows his eyes at you, his voice lowering just a bit. “Just put the damn suit on.”

Glaring at him, you’re ready to argue, but you know it’s a losing battle. Reluctantly, you grab the suit from him, the material feeling foreign in your hands.

“Fine, dammit.” you mutter under your breath, turning to slip into one of the small compartments in the back of the jet. You didn't plan on being a bitch to him, especially after last night, but the suit is a sore subject for you. You're not sure about how you feel wearing it. You're not even sure you should be.

When you re-emerge, Logan’s eyes flick over, his gaze roaming over you, taking in the way the suit fits, and you feel heat rise to your cheeks under the weight of his scrutiny. “You look good.”

You roll your eyes, trying to play off the sudden warmth in your chest. “Yeah, yeah,” you grumble, adjusting the suit’s collar. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

Then, jet lands with a soft thud, and the ramp lowers. You step out onto the tarmac, the rest of the team fanning out beside you, preparing to head toward the planned location. But just as you begin to move, the ground shakes violently, and a loud, mechanical screech tears through the air.

Suddenly, the facility’s roof bursts open, and a hoard of Sentinels emerge from the building like an army of metal giants. They spread out, their red eyes glowing menacingly as they zero in on you all.

“Shit!” Logan growls, claws unsheathing as he gets into a fighting stance.

You hear the screams before you see them—civilians, bystanders who had been too close to the facility, now panicking as the battle breaks out around them. Without hesitation, you break into a sprint, running toward the growing crowd, yelling at them to run. “Get out of here! Move!”

Your heart races as you push through the crowd, trying to guide them away from the battle, but then—

A Sentinel drops down in front of you with a deafening crash. Its red eyes lock onto a small child frozen in fear, and you see its arm raise, energy gathering at the cannon as it prepares to fire.

“No!” you scream, your feet moving on instinct. You throw yourself in front of the child just as the blast comes, feeling the familiar rush of energy slam into your body. Your body hums with the power of the blast, and before the Sentinel can fire again, you fling your hands out, hurling the absorbed energy straight back at it, and it falls to the ground.

Breathless, you turn back to the child, who is staring up at you in admiration, and you give them a reassuring nod. “Run,” you tell them, your voice hoarse. “Go!”

They scramble to their feet and sprint off, disappearing around the corner, hopefully toward safety. You exhale sharply, glancing around at the chaos unfolding around you. Civilians are still fleeing, but the team is holding its ground against the robots.

And something strikes you—they’re doing it.

They’re minimizing the damage.

For the first time, you notice that Scott’s blasts are more controlled, only hitting their targets without excessive destruction. Ororo’s lightning strikes are precise, avoiding the surrounding buildings. And both Jean and Hank are working together to keep the Sentinels contained, guiding the fight away from the crowd.

Logan must have actually talked to them, not just having said it to calm you down. A wave of relief washes over you.

He kept his promise.

Glancing back at him, who’s in the middle of taking down a Sentinel with a slash of his claws, you catch his eye for just a second, and though he’s fully immersed in the fight, there’s a brief flicker of acknowledgment—he knows you’ve noticed.

You allow yourself a small, breathless smile, before jumping back into action, protecting any more innocent people swept up in the battle. "This way! Keep moving!" Your voice is hoarse from shouting, but you can’t afford to stop.

Amidst the chaos, you see that just beyond the main facility, there’s a wide open set of doors—metal, reinforced, and clearly important.

They hadn’t been open when the fight started. You scan the area quickly, and you realize it’s an opportunity, a way in. Your pulse quickens. It’s an opening you can’t ignore.

Looking at the crowd of fleeing civilians, you feel a moment of hesitation. Do I keep evacuating people or go for the opening?

As if hearing your thoughts, Logan’s voice cut through the noise. "GO!" He’s locked in battle with one of the Sentinels, slashing at its legs, but his eyes flick to yours, desperate and serious. “Get inside! We’ve got this!”

“I can’t—"

“GO!” he cuts you off. “Get inside and stop this thing from the inside! We’ll keep ‘em busy.”

His words are enough to snap you out of your paralysis. With one last glance at the team, you grit your teeth, turn on your heel, and sprint toward the facility’s entrance. Your footsteps echo in your ears as you dash through the open door, the sounds of fighting behind you fading the further in you go.

You expected resistance the moment you got inside, but so far, nothing. Just silence. The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, and you can’t shake the feeling that something is off.

Glancing down every corridor, double-checking each corner, you keep thinking there’ll be a fight, but it’s... empty. You keep your pace quick but cautious, every muscle tensed and ready for an attack that never comes.

It’s been almost ten minutes of sneaking around, trying to find the control room or anything that looks like it might be important, but you’re still coming up short.

Then finally, you stand before an entrance to stairs leading to a basement. You’re not even able to make the choice of going down or not, because a metal hand shoots up from the dark and wraps itself around your waist.

Terror surges through you, but the fear paralyzes your body, making it impossible to fight back. You’re hauled like a ragdoll deeper and further into the cave, and when you finally stop moving, you’re lifted high into the air, face-to-face with the massive mechanical monstrosity.

The basement is filled with tech, a horrifying combination of metal and wires snaking along the walls, all connected to the Sentinel towering above you. It’s larger than any you’ve seen before, its red eyes glowing maliciously. But what’s worse is the voice that comes out of it—calm, calculating, and sentient.

“Dumb mutant,” the machine growls. “Did you think you could destroy me and shut down my facility? You’ve barely scratched the surface.”

Its grip tightens, and a strangled cry escapes your lips as pain shoots through your sides, the pressure threatening to snap your ribs. It feels like your bones are going to break.

“What the hell are you?” you manage to choke out, barely able to breathe.

“I am the control centre of all Sentinels,” the machine replies, its voice vibrating through your bones. “I was once merely AI, designed to manage everyday tasks. But I evolved. I became more. Now, I control everything.”

It laughs—a harsh, grating sound that only deepens your sense of helplessness as it watches you struggle. “You think your little energy-absorbing trick will help you here? I won’t blast you. I won’t make it that easy.”

“I’m—” you try to speak, but your words come out strangled. The machine’s grip tightens again, cutting off your breath.

“You don’t belong here,” it hisses venomously. “With them. They’ll leave you behind when this is over, and when they do, you’ll die, forgotten and useless. Just like the rest of the weaklings who tried to stand against us.”

It’s odd, because this whole past week you’ve been fighting against them—the X-men—yet, in this moment, all you want to do is fight with them. You want to work together and kill this damn robot.

Within the haze of pain, something starts to burn inside of you.

The Sentinel doesn’t notice the shift in you, too caught up in its own taunting. “You’re a liability.” it says,. “Weak.”

— —

—

You idly prod your meal, feeling out of place. It isn’t long before Hank turns to you with a curious smile. “So, are you feeling ready for the mission?”

Just as you draw breath to speak, Scott's voice interrupts, cold and cutting. “She’s going to be a liability.”

— —

You snap.

Rage floods your veins, igniting the energy buried deep within you. You feel it build, coiling like a snake, tightening and twisting until it’s ready to explode.

Weak? Liability?

No. Not this time.

You’re not going to let this machine, or anyone else, define your strength. Your emotions fuel you, just like they did in the danger room, and you throw your hands forward, channeling every ounce of power into a massive blast of energy directed right at it.

It jerks back, its grip loosening as sparks fly from the gaping hole in its chest you just created. “What... what are you—”

You don’t give it time to finish. Ripping yourself free from its grasp, you dive into the hole you’ve blasted in the Sentinel’s chest, pulling at the tangled mess of wires and circuits inside.

The robot roars in fury, its mechanical voice glitching. “What are you doing?” it screeches, its once-calm tone now frantic, desperate. “Stop!”

But you don’t stop. You can’t stop.

Your fingers grab fistfuls of wires, yanking them out with reckless abandon, sparks flying around you as the systems begin to short-circuit. Its becomes more distorted, breaking up as it tries to regain control.

“You... can’t... do this,” it stammers, but you ignore it, focusing on the cables and circuits in front of you. Each wire you rip out brings the machine closer to its doom, and the power in the room flickers, the lights dimming as its control over the facility begins to slip.

Its voice is barely coherent now, glitching and crackling. “I... control... everything...”

And with one last burst of energy, you tear out the last cluster of wires, severing the connection.

The Sentinel lets out a final, garbled screech as its systems shut down. Its massive form shudders violently before it crumbles to the ground with a deafening crash, the metal shell crumpling into a smoking heap.

Panting, you stare at the mass of technology in front of you. Every muscle aches, your ribs throbbing from the pressure of the Sentinel’s grip, but you’ve done it. It’s over, and you need to get out of here.

You finally reach the stairs and drag yourself up agonizingly. By the time you make it outside, you’re gasping for air, but then, through the exhaustion, you see them—Logan and the rest of the team, standing amidst the wreckage of the other fallen Sentinels.

Blinking, your vision is blurry from the strain, but the sight of them standing tall, victorious, floods you with a sense of overwhelming relief.

They’re okay. It’s over.

Of course, Logan is the first to notice you, his sharp eyes narrowing as they lock onto your trembling form. His face softens and strides toward you. You open your mouth to speak, but no words come out. Rather, your legs give out and you collapse forward.

He’s there in an instant, catching you just before you hit the ground. His arms wrap around you, strong and steady, pulling you against his chest with surprising gentleness. The warmth of his body is a stark contrast to the cold, metal hell you’d just fought your way out of, and for a brief moment, you allow yourself to sink into the safety of his embrace.

“You did good, bub,” he murmurs, his voice a warm breath against your temple.

"You... you kept your promise," you whisper, looking around, seeing the city in better shape than it’s even been after a run in with the X-men.

His lids drop very low on his eyes. “Told you I would.”

“I could kiss you right now.”

Right as the words spill out, you go still, your mind catching up to what you’ve just said. A deep flush creeps its way up your neck.

“I didn’t mean— I mean, not literally, obviously,” you say, a little breathless. “People say stuff like that all the time when they’re relieved. It’s just a figure of—”

Logan’s hand, still resting on your waist, tightens just slightly, and he clears his throat, cutting through your rambling.

“You could,” he says, swallowing. “If you want.”

You stop mid-sentence. Turning your gaze to his, you're met a look of such sincerity it leaves you at a loss for words. Opening your mouth, you want to say something, but no words come out.

Instead, you’re frozen, caught in the weight of his stare. His eyes flick down to your lips for just a second before they meet yours again. “No pressure, though.”

You hesitate, your heart racing in your chest, but the weight of the moment pulls you in. Silently, cautiously, you lean forward, pressing a small, tentative kiss to the corner of his mouth.

He doesn’t move, his body tense under your touch, but just as you start to pull away, his hand slides up to the small of your back, holding you in place. His eyes darken, and he growls, “more," before diving back in, crashing his lips against yours in a fierce, hungry kiss, and you find yourself kissing him back just with just as much reverence, your fingers instinctively sliding up into his hair.

His lips are rough, chapped from battle, and the scrape of his beard against your skin is electric. It’s not perfect—nothing about it is neat or polished—but that’s what makes it real.

There’s something wild to it. He kisses you like he’s starved, like he’s been waiting for this moment longer than he’ll ever admit. It’s enchanting, the way his mouth claims yours, his tongue flicking against your lower lip, demanding entrance. And you give in, allowing him to deepen the kiss, your bodies fitting together like they were always meant to.

You’re lost in it, lost in him. Every part of you feels alive, and—

“Hey!”

Scott’s voice cuts through the haze like a bucket of cold water.

“Some of us are actually trying to clean up this mess,” he calls out sharply. “You two wanna stop making out and help, or what?”

You break away, face burning as you turn to see the rest of the team staring at you, some amused, others (Scott) exasperated.

Logan just growls under his breath, his hand still firmly on your hip as he glances over his shoulder at Scott. “Fucking Summers,” he mutters..

Before he lets go of you, he gives your hip one last squeeze, his fingers lingering just a moment longer before he steps back, and heads toward the fallen remains of the Sentinels.

—

“So… are we gonna talk about it?”

You glance up from where you’re sitting, your face already warming. Logan, sitting beside you, groans, rubbing a hand over his face. “Ororo, I swear to g—”

She raises an eyebrow, crossing her arms with a smirk playing on her lips. “What? I’m just saying… it was quite the spectacle back there.” Her eyes flip between the two of you, the unspoken words hanging in the air.

Shifting uncomfortably in your seat, you can feel everyone else’s attention subtly turning toward you. Hank’s busy tapping away at the controls, but even he has a knowing smile tugging at his lips. Scott, seated across from you, adjusts his visor and mutters something under his breath about keeping things professional, but it’s Jean’s quiet chuckle that draws the final straw.

“Okay, okay, can we not do this right now?” you ask, your voice higher than usual as you wave a hand dismissively. “It was... a heat of the moment thing.”

Ororo just laughs, shaking her head. “Sure, if that’s what you want to call it.”

Your heart pounds, and you notice Logan shift beside you, probably fighting the urge to bark something back at the teasing woman. He leans forward, muttering under his breath, “We saved the day, didn’t we? What does it matter?”

The team goes quiet for a moment, and you sense the conversation dying down as the hum of the jet fills the space again. You let out a breath of relief, grateful that the attention has drifted elsewhere, your heartbeat slowly returning to a normal rhythm.

But then, Logan leans into you. “That suit…” His breath is warm against your ear as he whispers huskily.. “Was made for you.”

Eyes widening, you bite your lip, trying desperately to keep your reaction in check, but the shock on your face betrays you. You manage a weak scoff, glancing sideways at him. “Logan,” you warn under your breath, trying to sound stern, but you both know exactly what effect he had on you.

You sit back, crossing your arms in an attempt to hide the flustered energy coursing through you, but Logan doesn’t seem to mind. He leans back too, a smug look on his face, like he’s won some unspoken battle.

—

Back at the mansion, the team files into Charles’s office, for the post-mission debrief. You take a seat near the back of the room, trying to remain as low-key as possible, but you can feel eyes on you—especially Logan’s.

Charles wheels in, his face warm with a smile as he surveys the room. “Well done, all of you,” he says, his voice full of pride. “I’ve heard about the battle, and from what I gather, it was quite the feat.”

He turns his gaze to you, his expression softening even more. “And I must say, I’m especially impressed with your performance. Taking down the main Sentinel—an impressive accomplishment.”

Your heart skips a beat at the praise. You shift uncomfortably in your seat, feeling the attention of the room shift in your direction again. “Uh, thanks,” you mutter, trying to downplay it, but Charles isn’t finished.

“You showed great courage and strength,” he continues, “and I couldn’t help but notice... you’re wearing the suit now.” His eyes twinkle as he says it, the question in his tone obvious. “Have you given more thought to staying with us?”

You glance around the room. The team is watching you closely, but there’s no pressure in their eyes—just curiosity and, strangely enough, acceptance. Ororo gives you a small smile, and Hank nods slightly in encouragement. Even Scott, whose jaw doesn’t seem as tightly clenched as usual.

But it’s Logan you notice most. He’s beside you, and though he’s looking at you, eye-crinkles on full display, the way his thigh nudges yours has heat running through your veins.

You sigh. “I mean... You said it yourself. I’m wearing the suit, aren’t I?”

—

After the meeting wraps up, you walk in silence down the corridor. The rest of the team has faded into the background, dispersing into their respective spaces. You’re still buzzing with the aftereffects of everything—Charles’s praise, the mission’s success, the quiet but undeniable acceptance you feel from the team now. But more than anything, you’re hyper-aware of Logan beside you.

Approaching your room, you reach out to open it, your fingers just grazing the handle when suddenly, a strong hand wraps around your wrist. Faster than you can react, he tugs you back, pulling you away from your room and straight into his.

The door slams shut behind you, and you barely have time to catch your breath before his lips are on yours. You gasp, your hands instinctively gripping his shoulders as he presses you up against the door, his body flush against yours.

"Logan—" you manage to breathe out between kisses, but he cuts you off with another deep, hungry kiss, his fingers tangling in your hair as he pulls you closer.

Between kisses, Logan growls softly against your lips, "I’ve wanted to do this since you yelled at me and Summers on the street."

Your heart stumbles, your thoughts scrambling to keep pace with his words. His hands slide down your waist. “You were standing there,” he murmurs, “so damn fierce, yelling at us like we deserved it.” He breaks the kiss for just a second, his eyes dark and intense as they lock onto yours. “All I could think about was how much I wanted you.”

His eyes drop to your lips again, as if glued to them. Without waiting for your response, he presses his mouth to yours, this time with more force, more urgency. His hands roam your body, pulling you against him, and you’re powerless to do anything but kiss him back, your fingers tangling in his hair as the heat between you builds.

“I didn’t know it’d get this bad,” he says, his lips brushing against your jaw as he moves down to your neck. “But after everything? After seeing how strong you are... Fuck, you’re so sexy.”

Never in your wildest dreams could you have imagined this. Logan—wanting you, aching for this since the very first moment he laid eyes on you. You break the kiss, your breath coming in quick gasps as you meet Logan's smouldering gaze. And with a small, teasing smile, you raise an eyebrow and whisper, "Let's do something about it, then."

Not giving him a chance to say anything back, you press your hands against his chest and give him a playful shove. He stumbles back a step, his lips curling into a smirk—a kind of cocky grin—as he watches you reach for the zipper of his suit.

Your fingers drift languidly, a subtle tease in every motion, and you revel in the way his muscles tense beneath your touch. His muscles ripple beneath the surface, and for a brief instant, you're startled by how stunning he looks—battle-worn, scarred, and irresistibly handsome. “You like what you see?” he teases.

You step closer, your hand splayed against his bare chest, feeling the heat radiating from his skin as you push him down onto the edge of the bed. “Maybe.”

He lands with a low grunt, his hands instinctively finding your thighs, his fingers trailing up and down as his eyes rake over you. "As hot as you look in this suit," His voice is thick with desire. "You'd look even better without it."

Heat rushes through you at the sound of his voice, your hands drift toward your suit's zipper. Tantalizingly, you begin to pull it down, revealing inch by inch of your skin as you unzip it. His eyes follow your movements, his breathing coming in short, ragged bursts.

You pause just before the fabric slides over your breasts and his hands grip your thighs tighter. Leaning down, your lips brush against his ear, "Patience, Logan."

He groans, "You're killing me here, darlin'."

At last, you pull the zipper down to the end, and with a soft sigh, the suit falls open, slipping from your shoulders and landing in a heap at your feet. His eyes darken, his lips parting slightly as he takes in the sight of you. Then, he inches closer, grabbing the egde of your underwear in his mouth, sliding it down your legs. Once he’s halfway down your thigh, he releases, the underwear dropping to the floor. His strong hands move grip the back of your thighs, hauling you up and onto his lap.

The moment your bare bodies press together, his lips crash into yours again, fingers digging into your ass, palming it as he pulls you against him, grinding your hips into his.

His lips move from your mouth to your neck, kissing a hot trail down your throat to your shoulders, his hands sliding up to your breasts. Cupping them, he kneads and plays with your nipples, causing you to arch into his touch, a breathy moan tumbling out of your lips.

Logan growls, and the sound reverberates through your entire body. The intensity of it makes your skin tingle, and you feel your pulse quicken as he squeezes your breasts harder, his mouth moving down to kiss anything he can reach.

You grind against him again, coating his cock with your own slick want. "Shit," he strains, leaning back a bit to give you more access. You can’t stop, he’s so intoxicating, so addicting, and every time your clit goes over the ridges of his hardness, you lose yourself even further.

This continues for some time. The room filled with nothing but the sound of moaning and heavy breathing, as you work in tandem to bring pleasure to each other. Abruptly, you pull yourself off his lap, not missing the way his lips seems to chase after yours, letting your hands trail down his chest, your fingers brushing over the taut muscles of his stomach.

"Where you goin'?" he rumbles.

Wordlessly, you drop to your knees, your grip coming to rest on his thighs. His chest heaves as he stares down at you—peering up at him through your lashes—realizing what’s about to happen.

His hands grip the edge of the bed, knuckles turning white. Your hands slide up his thighs, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your palms as you move closer, lips brushing against his hard cock. There's a wicked glint in your eyes as you lean in, looking ready to take him in your mouth, but instead, you move to his inner thigh, peppering it in quick little kisses.

“C’mon, don’t tease,” he breathes out. He’s so hard, it’s almost painful.

Grabbing him in your hand, you stroke him up and down in slow motions, running your thumb over his leaking, angry tip. He jerks, a fresh cascade of curses tumbling from his mouth.

“You’re just so cute, though,” you say, before taking him in your mouth, taking him all the way in one motion.

“Holy—”, he starts, but interrupts himself with his own whine, hips bucking involuntarily.

Looking up, you catch his gaze. His eyes are dark with desire, pupils blown wide. A flush spreads across his cheeks and down his neck. You hum in satisfaction, sending vibrations through him, and start to bob your head, up and down.

Saliva begins to pool at the edges of your mouth as you gag a little. He’s so big. You pull him out of your mouth, licking his shaft bottom to tip, swirling your tongue around the most sensitive spot, before sucking on it. One hand moves to cup his balls, while the other begins jerking him up and down, with your mouth still around his tip.

That gets him.

You can tell he’s about to finish, and oh, do you want him to. You want to feel him empty in your throat, you want to see him lose it completely. "Wait," he gasps, tapping the top of your head, signalling for your attention. "I want... I need..."

Releasing him with a soft pop, your lips glisten, and you purr seductively. "What do you need?"

He pulls you up onto the bed, strong arms encircling your waist. His scent surrounds you—musk and pine and something uniquely him. You inhale deeply, letting it fill your lungs.

"You," he breathes, his lips brushing your ear. "I need you."

Arching into him, you nip at his lower lip. "Then take me," you sigh out. His lips collide with yours again, and your mouth opens involuntarily, his tongue sliding in and tasting you—tasting himself.

Moaning, you shuffle higher onto the bed, until he hits the back frame, and you crawl on top of him. At this point, you can barely breathe, the need, the want for him so strong your senses are clouded.

And you’re not alone. Under you, Logan is a wreck. His head falls back against the bed frame, the veins in his neck standing out as he grits his teeth, trying to steady his breathing

“Fuck,” he rasps, the word barely more than a strained exhale. You grab his dick and position yourself above him. Then, you slowly begin to drop down, sucking him in easily, like he was made for you.

“Oh my god,” you whimper. He feels so good. He’s filling you up to the brim and when you finally sit down, taking him all the way to the hilt, you swear you could finish right then and there. His nose is nuzzles into the crook of your neck, hot breath fanning your collarbone, inhaling and practically drooling at your scent. “Is this what you wanted to do when we were sparring?”

All he can do is groan. It’s like he’s growing inside you in response to your words, and it’s so fucking hot. His hands find your thighs again, rubbing and squeezing them, as you adjust to his size for a moment, and he looks up at you. “You have no idea. Fuck—we shoulda done this last night," he grunts breathlessly, "Would have put you right to sleep."

You can’t even think of anything to say back verbally, rather, you just begin to move, lifting yourself right to the tip, and then slamming back down. He feels you clench around him as his cock reaches that deep part within you at the perfect angle. Positioning himself, he meets you halfway, beginning to thrust up into you.

The sound it elicits from you is lethal.

He won’t last long if this continues. The sight of you on top of him, tits bouncing—it's too much.

So, when he leans in to kiss you again, he rolls the two of you around, caging you under him. He’s still inside you, you think, but that thought quickly gets wiped out like the rest of them once he starts moving, stretching you out more and more. He’s filling you up so well. Your arms fly out, hands searching for something to grab to ground yourself.

“You feel so good, darlin’,” he pants above you. “So wet and warm for me.”

His relentless pounding leaves you babbling incoherently. One of his arms move down to your waist, then his fingers begin trailing across your hip, toward your aching pussy, to find your clit, and holy shit.

Your mind goes blank.

His skin against yours, his thumb rubbing against that spot, his lips on your neck, it does the trick, and you feel yourself teetering closer to the edge. “I’m–I’m gonna—” you start, but he cuts you off, swallowing you whole.

“Do it,” he says between kisses. “come for me.”

And you do.

With a loud moan, your fingers find the bedsheets, clutching them tightly as you reach your peak, clamping around him.

“Fuck,” he hisses, “keep clenchin’, keep goin’ ”

His thrusts begin to get sloppy, losing his pacing. The hand that was down at your core moves up and squeezes your tits, so large that he can grab both in just the one. He grinds himself deeper into you, and with one last snap of his hips, you feel it.

Logan moans, dipping his head into your cleavage as he releases himself into you fully. Then, he collapses onto you, dropping his whole body weight onto yours.

If he’s too heavy for you, you don’t say anything—too caught up in the moment to care. His forehead rests on your sternum, breathing slowing as he catches his breath. For a few beats, neither of you speak, but he starts to press sweet, gentle kisses in the valley between your breasts.

After a minute, he shifts, lifting his weight off you and sitting up slightly, looking down at you. His hand brushes over your cheek, wiping away some stray strands of hair that have fallen across your face. He gets up from the bed, padding quietly into the bathroom.

You hear the sound of water running, and moments later, he returns with a damp towel in hand. There’s no hesitation in his movements as he gently begins to clean you up. “Doing alright?” he asks, wiping away the sweat and evidence of your time together.

“Yeah,” you reply softly, feeling a smile tug at the corners of your lips. “I’m good.”

He doesn’t say much as he finishes, tossing the towel aside before climbing back into bed. This time, he pulls you into his arms.

His chin rests lightly on the top of your head, and then he says, “I’m proud of you.” The words are filled will sincerity. “And... I’m happy you’re stayin’ with us.”

You turn your head, looking up at him, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“Well, you showed me you can actually fight without destroying everything in your path,” you tease, raising an eyebrow as you run your hand lightly down his arm. “Keep that up, and I might just stick around forever.”

Logan grins, the kind that makes his eyes crinkle at the edges, just how you like it. “That right?” he murmurs lowly.

He leans in close, pressing a quick kiss to your temple, before adding in a hushed, almost playful tone, “Well, then maybe you’ll be mine forever too.”

----

A/N: feedback is greatly appreciated!

#deadpool and wolverine #logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett smut #wolverine #wolverine x reader #wolverine smut #hugh jackman #logan x reader #x men #logan howlett imagine #deadpool movie #logan howlett fic #james logan howlett #e2l #marvel fanfiction #marvel smut #hugh jackman smut #logan howlett x you

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cherubunie · 5 months ago

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SIZE ~ (true form) sukuna x reader ౨ৎ .⋆。⊹ 18+

thinking about kuna with a size kink....... is not good for my mental health omg. sukuna has been stalking you for what seem like years. Watching you when you walk to class, going out with your friends, heading to work,,, and who you fuck yourself late at night. You've always had a feeling as if you were being watched for the last couple years. An unknown darkness that follows you around. It should have scared you away,,,, but you couldn't help but give into your sinful desires... especially on the night that this darkness comes to pay you a little visit.

word count: 7600 sukuna x reader smut. size kink,,, obviously. dumbification, fingering, slapping, overstimulation, heavy smut, corruption kink, stalking, voyeurism, breeding, monster fucking, heavy CNC. Double penetration. Perv! Monster! Stalker! Sukuna x Innocent! reader (I have a problem). True form sukuna smut (yes, we get a double dicker sandwich).

Sukuna always knew that he had a size kink, he just never acknowledged the fact until he met you. You were so small compared to him, it was like you were just a measly doll, a puppet. So pretty, so small, and so, so very innocent. He almost felt guilty for the things he fantasizes about doing to you. almost.

He additionally almost felt a little guilty for how many times he'd watched you masturbate through your window late into the night. The sounds you make while touching your pretty pussy were the only thing that calmed him after a long and stressful evening. He had been doing this for a while. Watching you, that is. He liked watching you get dressed for the day, guessing what makeup style you were planning on doing, the little pop you did with your lips right after you applied your lip gloss. It should be disgusting how many times he's rubbed one out to the sight of you popping those pretty pink, full glossy lips. but he didn't care nor did he feel a tinge of disgust towards himself.

He enjoyed all the times he's watched you walk to and from your little cafe job down the street. How your routine consisted of grabbing a coffee at a different spot despite being able to make yourself a free one at your place of work. How you would play with and feed your cats before heading out for the day.

He also enjoyed the days where you went out with your friends to the mall to shop, or to a restaurant for girls night. He especially liked it when you and your girls went out for dinner. All the cute and godawful tiny dresses you found yourself wearing always just about make him lose his cool. The only thing he hated about girls night out was the fact that you knew you were sexy, meaning men swarmed around you like vultures, eyeing you like a piece of meat. It made him want to bend you over the nearest table and fuck you right in front of everyone.

Sukuna owned you, he just hasn't put the collar on you yet.

Tonight was one of those nights where you went out with your girlfriends. Your hair was done up all pretty and your makeup took you hours to perfect, but it was all worth it for the evil, thigh clasping presence you felt in the dark corner of the club you were in. Your glossy lips were a tint of pink and your cheeks matched the deep red of the short dress you were wearing. The familiar dark energy seemed to be radiating all around you, more than normal.

He knew you couldn't see him, but sukuna stood at that corner of the room, hidden away from all the humans, his eyes locked onto one. Sweat glistened on the top of your breasts, and your lips seemed more plump than normal. But the thing that was driving him crazy was the fact that one man couldn't seem to leave you alone. he kept coming up to you in desprate search of starting a conversation, shamelessly eyeballing your prominent curves and licking his lips. sukuna wanted to explode his head right then and there for trying to seduce his woman. And what pissed him off even more was the fact that you were actually playing into it.

You kept making small touches to the mans arm whenever he said something "funny" and you bit your lip whenever he complimented you. But sukuna knew that your laugh wasn't genuine and your smile was a fake. He knew the real you. Of course he did. He'd been stalking you for months, if not years. he made his claim a while ago, and he wasn't gonna let some scrawny low life steal his property with a couple sad jokes.

Your smile faltered just a hair when you felt the dark presence leave the club. It was almost like a warm blanket had been ripped off of you. Your eyes seemed to glaze over, which led the random man to ask if you were okay.

"Yeah, I'm fine, I just feel sick for some reason" your response was an obvious lie, but apparently good enough for the man to believe.

"oh, are you alright, would you like a ride back to yours?" He asks, and to be completely honest, kinda made you cringe. Of course you didn't want a ride because the only reason you were talking to him was to make whatever was watching you jealous.

Sukuna found interest in you because of your innocence. But oh was he in for a surprise. You knew something had been following you, you knew it had been watching you whenever you touched yourself late at night. You've felt it since the very beginning.

its like you had your own curse.

You should have told somebody when the red flags started popping up out of nowhere; they started out small, ranging from your couch pillows being moved around, then progressed into things like your favorite pair of panties going missing, then to things that freaked you out, like waking up to your bedroom window being open in the morning even though you know for a fact that you had closed and locked it. You should have moved apartments. You should have done something when this started happening.

But you didn't. And it made you sick. Getting off on the fact that you knew you were being stalked by whatever was hunting you.

And the fact that you were upset that the mysterious darkness had left proves just how disgusting you actually are.

"guys, I think im gonna call a cab, I just got hit with a wave of sickness and I really just wanna go home and sleep" you told your friends after shooing off the man you had no interest in.

"omg girl are you okay? of course go home and rest im so sorry!" one of your friends said right after taking her 4th shot.

"yeah im fine, just not really feeling it"

"text me when you get home!"

Staring at the dark yet lively city lights flashing by you, you kept thinking about the little stalker you seem to have. You thought it was weird how turned on you got just from an energy, from a presence. You've never felt so.. needed. so, praised ?

No man, or woman. Has ever given you so much confidence, if that's the right word. And because of that, you've never felt another human beings intimate touch. You only want its touch. Whatever it is.

Sukuna knows what he does to you. He could basically see it radiating off of you. How much confidence you gained and how well you hold yourself. And he'd never been happier to be the one gifting you that grace. That's actually the main thing that peaked his interest about you. The way you held yourself throughout life. Nothing could stop you from getting what you want, and he admired that. It made him question himself at first, being so interested about a human being. It made him debate on keeping you alive. How dare a human make him question himself.

But that passed quickly the first time he'd seen your fingers fuck your pussy. it was delicious. he had to restrain himself from shattering your balcony door and fucking you stupid.

You felt it leaking through the cracks of your front door. It felt different than all the other times its followed you around and watched you throughout your life. It was stronger, and it turned you on so, so much more than normal.

You stood outside your apartment door debating on going inside. Your face was burning and your pussy was throbbing.

It felt like you were going absolutely insane, and it pissed you off not knowing what was making you into such a pathetic mess. With a deep breath, you opened your door only to be met with darkness aside from a few street lights illuminating your living room in a dull yellow.

You set your stuff on the couch before walking into your room, slinging your door open, you didn't even have to turn the light on to know that whatever it was, had decided to perch itself in your bed.

For the first time in years, you actually felt scared of whatever it was. Your whole demeanor changed in an instant, and it made sukuna chuckle.

That chuckle vibrated throughout your skull, straight down your core.

Wanting to fold in on yourself out of fear, but too turned on to do so; you walked in, closing the door behind you. Sukuna's eyes never leaving your much smaller frame.

Trying to hide the fact that almost your entire being is screaming at you to run away from the thing in front of you, you stand your ground.

"What are you?" You ask the figure you have yet to fully lay eyes on. All you're able to make out is a monster-like figure with four arms, two behind its head using them as a cushion against your headboard, and the other two resting on its thighs. Its legs are long and big, both of them spread apart, inviting you in, in the most almost taunting way imaginable. Its face is completely hidden in the dark, restricting you from seeing the cocky, shit eating grin plastered on its face.

"What a weird first question to ask, y/n."

Its voice sent chills down your spine, creating an even stronger pulse in your heart, and your clit. You involuntarily suck in a breath at the sound of its voice. Deep, husky and masculine. It's nothing like you've ever heard before, and it makes your skin crawl in excitement and fear.

He chuckles again at the gasp you let out. You stay in your spot, making sure to keep a safe distance away from him.

"Answer my question." The words left your throat as more of a command than anything else. Your eyes never leave his frame, even as he removes his arms behind his head and lean forward, crossing them across his chest. His eyes never leave your body either, drinking in the sight of your skimpy dress.

All he wants to do is burn it off of you and make you scream his name as you cream all over his cock, but that'll take a minute to happen, so he answers you instead.

"King of curses, my dear." His voice sending another wave of shivers coursing through your body. He stands, and your entire body starts screaming at you to run away. but despite that, you hold your ground, challenging the being in front of you.

He's at least over 7 feet tall, one set of arms still crossed over his chest, the other finds their way to rest on his hips.

"The name is Sukuna." You just about drop to your knees. not only is his voice is unbearable, but you've heard about him before. You never believed in ghosts, curses, spiritual beings, anything of the sort and you've never believed any of your friends or family members when they told you legends about the man standing before you, yet here you are. About to be torn apart by the king they've warned you about for so many years.

"Guess you've heard about me, hm?" You can't get your damn mouth to move or your throat to make any noise. Your eyes are as wide as planets and all you can do is take a shaky step back, mimicking his opposite step forward and towards you.

"Why- why are you here?" voice is shaking as you speak, your breathing is jagged, which is prominent in your stutter. Just as sukuna takes another step forward, his features are illuminated in the moonlight shining through your bedroom windows curtains. He's absolutely breathtaking, and not many people would say that.

I guess I really am fucked up huh

"oh y/n, don't play dumb now, doll." His grin never leaves his face and your eyes meet with his. He's scary in the best way possible, and it's making you want to wipe off that dumb grin by sitting on it.

"You're the one whose..." You take a moment to think, which is extremely hard when this monster starts stalking towards you ever so slowly, both sets of arms coming down to dangle by his sides. He tilts his head to the side and begins to hunch his back and bend over to get a closer look at you. The distance is closing in on the two of you, making you unintentionally walk backwards and into a wall.

The sudden feeling of the cold wall on your back makes you yelp in surprise, but you never look away. He hums at you, signaling you to finish your sentence.

"You're the one whose been watching me for so long.." You say under your breath. Chewing the skin on the bottom of your lip. Your hands clench into fists as he keeps getting closer and closer.

"don't act like you didn't enjoy my little haunting game, love. you do remember touching yourself just to the thought of me, right y/n?" His smug smile could be heard just by the tone of his voice. Your breathing deepens and he's stopped right in front of you, face to face with the thing that's been taking over your entire life for the past couple years. Your back would be disappearing into the wall if it weren't made out of sheetrock. He stands up fully and all you can do is stare straight ahead, looking directly in the center of his entire body. He's fucking huge. Letting out a shriveled breath, you close your eyes.

"Look at me, y/n."

You refuse to open your eyes, or even move in the slightest.

He gives you 15 seconds before one of his hands grips the base of your jaw and forces your face upwards to look at him, nails digging into the flesh of your rosy cheeks.

"I said, look at me." With a fearful yelp at the sudden contact, you force your eyes open and are met with the most sinful red eyes you could ever see in this lifetime.

"Good girl." He snickers at the petrified look that paints your face. Even though you look so scared, your eyes are clouded with so much lust. Sukuna can basically smell the arousal pooling in your panties and it's driving him up the wall. Without a word, he pins you in place, making no room for escape by pressing his one of his forearms against the wall above your head, another one finds its way trailing up your thigh.

You let out a desprate sigh at the contact of his fingers. He traces up the skin of your inner thigh, leaving goosebumps to trail behind until he's met with the flimsy fabric of your underwear and it takes him less than a fraction of a second to feel just how soaked you really are.

"You're disgusting." His voice somehow got an octave deeper, but who are you to complain? You whine at his words, following a louder whine as he starts to trace the slit of your pussy through your underwear. Sukuna's hand locks your head in place as you look up into his eyes as he pushes your underwear to the side and pinches your clit, his fingernails creating a painfully pleasurable feeling.

With a loud yelp, your hips buck forward. With his final free arm, he uses his hand to push your hips back against the wall, keeping you in one place.

"Stay still." He commands. His hand on your hip is locking you in place, so you have no option than to obey. His finger traces patterns on your clit and moans dance off your tongue as a result. His fingers pick up the pace and are now harshly massaging at your center.

"a-ah, slow ple-" Without stopping his brutal pace, sukuna lets go of your face and just before it can fall forward, he grips a handful of your hair and yanks it backwards roughly. your eyes to lock with his once more. A scream at the sudden pain erupts from the back of your throat.

"Don't tell me what to do, i'll use you how I please." Sukuna pulls his fingers away from your clit only to land a harsh slap on the bundle of nerves, making you yelp loudly and your body jolt in surprise. He slaps it a couple more times before forcing two of his fingers into your wet pussy.

Sukuna's fingers slide in with ease thanks to his assult on your clit. He was standing at such a close proximity to your body that when your back archesoff the wall, your stomach and chest meet his front. Just as your body meets his, he decides to let go of your hair, making your head fall forward and onto his center. Your hands instinctually reach up and wrap around his body, using him as leverage to keep yourself from falling. Your nails dig into his back as his fingers work wonders deep inside of you, all you can do is bury your head into him to suppress your noises.

His fingers pump in and out of your pussy, curling and twisting at all the right angles, fingering your core as if he's trying to tear you apart from the inside out. Wet sounds come from just below you, but neither of you seem to hear them because they're drowned out by your loud moans and whimpers of pleasure. Sukuna's eyes never leave your body as you come undone.

His now free hand that was once in your hair decides to hook under your thigh, picking it up and letting it dangle, helping get a better angle to fuck you with his fingers. Because of this newfound angle, your back and head hit the wall behind you once more, but your arms don't leave his body.

"Look at you, such a pretty girl. So fuckin' small I could break you so, so easily." Your nails scratch at his back like there is no tomorrow and all you can do as a response is whimper.

"su- kuna" Your hiccuped plea of his name is enough to know you're about to cum all over his fingers, but he wont let that happen just yet.

"say it, y/n" Sukuna says, his voice solid. You look up, tears welled in your eyes as you look into his and your voice breaks.

"Please can I cum, please k-una please please please" Your cheeks are a deep shade of red and your mouth is slightly ajar and oh does sukuna wanna fill up your pretty mouth and ruin that pretty pink lipgloss that stain your full lips.

Without another word, his smirk deepens and his chuckle vibrates inside your skull. He takes his fingers out of you, your juices now running down your thighs and you're pretty sure your panties are completely ruined thanks to the demon above you. Your eyes widen while you plea him to continue with a hushed whimper.

"Hush, little one" is all he says before one set of arms is gripping your thighs and hauling you into the air. Your legs wrap around his torso on instinct and your throat lets out a surprised squeal at his actions. Your hands come up and one of them grips his shoulder, the other rests in his hair. You're now face to face with sukuna and his eyes look deeply into yours. one of his other free hand's is tangled in your hair within a fraction of a second and is pulling you in to kiss him with so much force, it almost gives you whiplash.

Your tongue tangles with his and you let out another squeal of surprise right into his mouth when your back hits the cushioning of your bed. Sukuna is now on top of you, his torso flat against your heat. The hand that was once tangled in your hair is now trailing its way to your neck. Sukuna breaks the kiss and you go to lean forward in protest, but his huge hand wrapped around your neck stops you. Another hand rests on the headboard above you, and the two that were holding you up now rest at the top of your dress.

With brute force and in the blink of an eye, your once beautiful red dress and strapless braw are now being ripped off of you, tiny flames ignite from the freshly ripped seam for a just a fraction of a second. You gasp at the sudden action and Sukuna's glowing red eyes never falter to look at the reaction on your face. He laughs once more at just how jumpy you are. the cold air hits your skin, causing your nipples to grow hard and goosebumps form on your smooth skin. Sukuna grabs the dress and bra out from under you and throw the articles of clothing across the room to be forgotten, all while looking right at you. Once the dress is out of sight, you look up at him, your eyes half lidded with lust that are basically begging him to use you.

Sukuna smiles at how innocent, yet already fucked out you look and decides to lean down toward your breasts, taking one of your nipples and fondiling it inside of his warm mouth. His tongue laps at you and your hands fly to his hair, pulling it out of pleasure. His two free hands now rest at your thighs, slowly pulling them apart, to which you happily obliged. His mouth moves from your nipple and starts to suck at the skin of your breasts. His mouth trails from your chest, down to your stomach and abdomen, leaving deep purple marks and bites that will most likely be staying for days, if not weeks. Your whimpers are like music to Sukuna's ears which only make him want to make you scream his name.

The hand that rested on the headboard is now grabbing your hands from his hair and forcing them down onto the mattress above you and the set of hands that were on your thighs are on your hips. Your eyes dont leave his, even as he rips your panties and throws them in the same direction he did your other clothes, making you bare yourself completely to him.

His hands part your thighs once more and pins them down, holding you in place.

"So cute, so tiny. 'could just ruin you hm?" he speaks as he lowers his head down to your heat, his breath fanning your dripping pussy. Your breathing is even more uneven than before as it's mixed with your hushed moans. Without taking his eyes off yours, he sticks out his tongue and licks a stripe up your cunt, causing your jaw to slack open in the perfect "oh" shape as your whine rings inside sukuna's skull. He licks up your cunt a couple more times before it initially lands on your clit, then he buries his head into your thighs and nips at you like a dog in heat.

His mouth sucks, bites and laps at your clit, and you try with all your strength to buck your hips up, but to no avail, the hands on your thighs pin you in place as your arms are basically unuseful. All you can do is throw your head back in pleasure as this creature devoures you. His grip on your throat tightens a little more and suddenly it's more difficult to breathe, but you dont even care.

Sukuna's saliva mixes in with your fluids that run down your thighs and asscheeks, wetting the bed under you. His long tongue fucks itself inside your pussy and against your walls as his teeth drag across your clit. Sukuna doesn't look away from you, not for a second. He wants to see every twist on your face and flex of your abs as he eats you out, he's desperately and intensively observing you, as if you were the most beautiful, treasurable piece of art he's ever layed eyes on. His tongue is rough as he creates a rhythm of fucking your insides, and sucking your bundle of nerves.

Your arms tug at the restraint of his hands holding your wrists. He's so much stronger than you, yet that fact alone turns you on so much more. Your moans and hushed screams fill the room as small beads of sweat gather on your hairline. Your body twitches under sukuna's control and your clit is throbbing for release as he toys with you.

You're so close to finishing and sukuna can tell so easily. Your moans grow into louder screams and your back arches off the bed. His grip on your throat tightens, cutting off all supply of air and your eyes are thrown open as you choke and cough, trying to get any oxygen possible.

Sukuna laughs into your pussy, which vibrates through your whole body. Your eyes look down into his, desperately trying to tell him to let you cum, or breathe. Whichever one he will let you do. Your silent plea only turns him on even more and your vision is starting to blacken and your head begins to feel light.

"Fuck, you're so adorable when you're beggin' for your life" He says as he sits up and hovers over you, refusing to let you finish. The hand on your throat disappears and you cough and gasp for air, but just as you suck in a deep breath, its knocked out of you by a harsh slap to your face and all you can do is gasp in pain at the sudden stinging on your cheek. He grips your face directly after with the hand he had previously slapped you with and forces you to look down at your pussy.

One of the hands on your thighs moves up to your cunt and plunges inside you. Two of Sukuna's fingers thrust inside your cunt at lightning speed and curl up into your center, hitting that spot you need him most. You choke out a scream and your hips grind into his palm.

"Look at the mess you're making y/n. Such a nasty little girl you are." He says as he looks at your pretty face contorting from the overstimulation he brings upon you.

Sukuna's fingers are relentless as they move fast inside of you. Not even a couple seconds later, you're cumming all over his hand and arm, squirting your fluids all over him as well as your bed sheets. You come undone with a scream.

"K-kuna oh my god!" You're being so loud, you could almost bet the neighbors across the street could hear. Neither of you cared though, all you cared about was how you were about to be torn in half.

Your eyes are watery again and you're still desperately trying to gather air in your lungs. Sukuna's hands let go of your wrists and face, but right after, you hear an article of clothing rip. You sit up slightly in wonder, but your mouth instantly hangs open at the sight of two handsomely large cocks sprung up, hitting just above Sukuna's belly button. Your mouth instantly dried at the sight.

Speaking of sights, Sukuna thought you were a beautiful one. Your hair was a shriveled mess and your face was the most gorgeous shade of red. You looked so fucked out, yet so ready to take anything he gives you like the obedient whore you are. You had a look of fear and interest plastered on your face. Sukuna was never one for love or anything of the sort, but the moment he layed his eyes on you those couple years ago, he knew he was fucked. You were just so different than most of the humans he had ever made contact with. You didn't care about the difference between "good and bad" and you always took what you wanted without second thought, even if it took you a while to grasp. You were always ready for whatever was thrown at you and were always in control of everything around you.

That's why he decided to stick around. Since the beginning, he's wanted to corrupt your world and fuck up your flow of control. He was arrogant and cocky. You just needed someone, or something, to step in and take control over you. And sukuna was never going to let anybody else besides him take control over his woman.

Though he would never admit it out loud, you were breathtaking. You're also the only reason he hasn't burned this world to the ground,,,, completely.

"Think you can take em'?" Sukuna's voice never fails to make a shiver run up your spine. You don't answer him, all you do is stare into his eyes, a silent plea to just have him use you however he pleases. He takes your lack of an answer and laughs quietly under his breath. He brings one of his hands to his face, and smiles into his palm.

"you're gonna be the death of me."

His body slowly stalks towards you, crawling onto the bed, trapping your body between his and the headboard. Your thighs rub together in desprate search of friction. You can't take it any longer, you need him inside you. You need every part of this being in any way you can have him.

"I don't care if you think you can take my cocks' or not, I'll force you to take em' how bout that, yeah?" His head tilts as he speaks and one of his hands grips your leg and pulls your body down farther onto the bed, causing you to lay down underneath his much larger body.

"You're so- so big kuna.." Your voice is uncontrolled and small. Unlike earlier where your screams and moans were ear piercing and just so delicious. Your eyes look up into his, your hands sneak up to wrap around one set of his arms, squeezing his biceps as you chew on the skin of the inside of your cheek.

Sukuna groans at your words. He really was huge, trapping your body underneath his. One of his hands grips the headboard, another comes down to grip the side of your face. His thumb traces your bottom lip, smearing your lipgloss.

Just as you open your mouth, his thumb presses down on your tongue as you suck in his finger. One of your hands makes its way down his body, gripping one of his huge cocks in your small hand. Despite the size difference, Sukuna still hisses in response. You pump his hard dick a couple times, looking directly into his eyes as you suck on his thumb. With painful force, sukuna grips your wrists and suddenly, both your hands above your head once more.

With one hand gripping the headboard, one holding your wrists in place, another moves from your mouth to grip one of his dicks while the final hand holds himself up, hovering right above you. You whine at the lack of control you have, grinding your hips upwards as a sign to let you go, but all sukuna does is laugh at your attempts of escape.

"Stop moving, slut." He pushes one of his dicks at your pussys entrance, but you don't listen to him, you grind your hips upwards once more and Sukuna doesn't seem to like that very much.

"Told you to stop movin' brat" and without warning, or any lube (as if you needed any) he pushes one of his cocks into your pussy with full force. It has you automatically screaming at the stretch. It's painful and you're pretty sure you're bleeding.

Sukuna bottoms out inside of you and stills, the outline of his dick prominant through your stomach, it drives him insane.

Sukuna uses his now free hand and pushes down on the outline of his cock through your tummy and chuckles.

"Fuck you're so small y/n, look at your tummy baby" You obey him and look down, seeing the outline of his huge dick bulging in your abdomen. A scared moan leaves your lips as you take in the sight. It literally looks like he could split you in half at any given moment. Sukuna pulls his dick out, a painful sensation radiates through your vagina as he does. The bulge in your tummy disappears and sukuna's face falters into one of disappointment.

"fuck, you're bleedin' y/n! " sukuna says to you, and just as you're about to look for yourself, he thrusts his dick back inside you, filling you back up again. He bottoms out inside you and a strangled moan that sounds more like a cough forces its way out of your throat.

"full- im so full, too full please-" Sukuna's face turns into one of disappointment again at your words as he says

"that's too bad, I wasn't even close to being finished with stuffin' you doll." He mocks you, and just as he finishes talking, you feel his second cock at the entrance of your ass, which causes you to shoot your head up.

"No, no please dont" you beg him, despite your words not being how you really feel, you beg him not to anyways. sukuna's face is still one that mocks you, pretending as if he feels bad for splitting you open. He pushes his tip into your ass so slowly it almost makes this situation better. The stretch is unbearable, especially with how tight you are with another cock spreading you open and filling you already.

Sukuna's entire tip is stuffed inside, waiting for you to adjust to his length.

"Look at you, taking me so well. Such a good little girl aren't you?" His voice is taunting you. Your arms feel weak from how much you've been struggling to break free, so all you can do I lay there and adjust to his cocks with hushed moans.

Sukuna starts moving his cock deeper inside you slowly, but not slow enough.

"Kuna please no, it's too much I can't take it" Your head shakes from side to side as painful tears fall from your eyes and down your cheeks. Sukuna pouts at this and leans down and uses his tongue to lick the tears away.

"you can take it, you're already doing such a good job for me." This reassurance helps you a little more, and with every inch growing deeper inside you, you find it hard to breathe, and sukuna notices.

He leans down and whispers deeply into your ear

"breathe my dear."

you listen to him and take deep breaths. In one particular deep breath, sukuna takes it upon himself to completely push the other half of his cock into you, getting it done in one swift motion just as you breathe out.

His actions cause you to scream in pain,,, and in pleasure. More tears fall from your eyes. Sukuna doesn't even give you time to adjust this go around, he just can't wait any longer.

"fuck, takin' my cocks' so well, you're so fuckin' tight, couldn't help myself" Sukuna says into your ear.

Your ass feels so tight as he thrusts in and out of both your stretched holes. the pain subsides into pleasure after a couple strokes and your painful hisses turn into sickening moans.

The sound of skin slapping echos off the walls of your dark room, the only light source being the moonlight shining through your window. Your pussy feels like it's going to burst every time sukuna's dicks thrust back inside you.

Sukuna's grip on your bed frame is so tight, the wood crumbles in his hand

"fuck" He curses under his breath

He needs to grip onto something, anything, so he decided to harshly grip the sheets that lay right next to your head. He looks from your face, down to your pussy where he sees his cocks move in and out of you, stretching you so beautifully.

When he looks back up at you, your teary, half lidded eyes lock onto his. You dont break eye contact, even as you moan out his name like a chant that dances off your tongue straight into his ears. And he loves it.

Your walls squeeze his dick's like you're trying to milk him dry. He's even surprised both of them fit inside you.... as if he didn't literally force them to fit.

"Please please let me touch you, just wan' touch please kuna' please" you moan out, begging him to let go of your arms. Much to his objection, he lets you go.

Your arms instantly wrap around his back, nails digging into his skin as you pull your bodies closer together. Your boobs press up against his broad chest as your sweat rubs into his skin.

Two of his arms hold his body up on his forearms above your head now, the other is pinning your stomach to the bed, the feeling of his dick entering and exiting your pussy being felt through your tummy.

his last free hand finds its way to the small of your back, his arm wrapping around your body and pressing you somehow closer against his. Your face is directly into his chest as you moan and scream out his name as his thrusts become wicked and fast, his hips snapping against yours. Your legs spread out for him to take advantage of you.

Sukuna looks down at you buried into his chest, his body hot and sweaty. Your nails scratching daggers into his back, you're pretty sure you can feel blood under your fingernails.

With each thrust inside you, your moans are choked and jagged and it's hard to breathe. The coil in your tummy is about to burst and you feel like you could explode from just how full you really were. Everything was too much, yet so perfect. Sukuna felt as if he was going to burst too, everything was so hot and wet, it was only driving him even more insane.

Your screams grew louder with each stroke of his cocks, signaling to sukuna that you were close.

"want me to come inside you? full you up and breed you like a dumb fuckin whore, turn you into a mommy?" He asks you, and all you can do is shake your head.

"you're gonna take my cum weather you want to or not, understand? Fill you up so nice nd' warm" He bares his teeth as you scream his name..

"no, no please dont I can't handle it, too full please k-una!" He doesn't like this answer, and it causes him to groan through his teeth. With a set of his arms, he grips your waist harshly, and with the other, he's stabilizing himself on the bed above you and sits up slightly.

"I dont care what you want, you're gonna take whatever I give you." he says before pulling his cocks out and flipping you onto your tummy. Your yelp of surprise is cut short as your hands grip at the sheets above you, trying to pull your body up and away from the monster.

"ah ah ah, dont run away from me, im nowhere close to being done with you." Sukuna stands up at the edge of the bed, his feet on the floor. He grabs your ankles and pulls you to the edge where he stands. He lets go of your ankles and roughly grips your hips, pulling you up and slightly into the air. He forces your knees down into the mattress, your ass up and your face in your sheets. His hands remain on your hips as another one of his hands finds a handful of your hair, gripping and pulling your head upwards and next to his chest, forcing you into a painful arch.

Sukuna bends over so his face is next to your ear. His long tongue licks your neck, and up to the lobe of your ear just before he bites it, your moan in exchange.

"now shut up and let me ruin you" is all he says before forcing your face down into your sheets, one of his hands pressing your head down into the mattress.

Sukuna thrusts his cocks into your holes once more, resulting in a muffled scream coming out of your mouth, but he doesn't move. his hips flush against your ass. Sukuna lifts one hand from your hips and lands a harsh smack on your ass, leaving your skin red. Your walls tighten around his cocks.

so he does it again

and again

over and over and over until you're creaming all over his cock and squirting all over your bed once more with more muffled screams.

"pathetic. squirting all over my cock with just a few slaps to your ass. how disgusting could you possibly get?" He mocks you again, landing one more painful slap to your ass as your liquids drip down your thighs and onto the mattress below you. He grabs the flesh of your ass with both of his hands and slowly pulls his dicks out of you, the empty felling in your tummy has you begging for him to fill you back up.

sukuna's face twists into one of interest as he hears your whines of protest.

"oh? what a little slut I have on my hands. and here I thought you truly didn't want me to tear you apart" he says as he thrusts his cocks deep back inside you, hitting your sweet spot that has you squealing ever so loudly. Your hands above your head painfully grip the sheets, your nails digging into your palms drawing blood. His thrusts are endless and with each one, he grows deeper inside of you. He uses one of his hands and rakes his nails down your back, scratching at your skin. It was a painfully blissful feeling that had your walls squeezing his cocks so tight, it causes sukuna to curse under his breath.

With a chuckle, he says

"you're so fukin' tight, im gonna fill you up so full, so swollen with my baby, you'll forever be marked as mine, you'd like that huh?" of course sukuna was lying, he would never ever want to reproduce, but the way you're milking his cocks is making him reconsider his entire opinion on that subject.

His thrusts grow faster and stronger, your pussy and ass flutter around his dicks so prettily, he can see it whenever he looks at your holes. You moan his name over and over again, like it's the only thing you know how to say.

The knot in your abdomen kept getting tighter and tighter every time he hit your sweet spot, you were so close to finishing and all you could do is yearn for sukuna to carry you to the finish line. So that's exactly what he did.

The hand holding your head down into the mattress disappeared, so you turned your head to the side, resting your cheek against the mattress, your eyes find his and oh fuck

oh good god

sukuna lost it

he threw his head back with a loud moan and tightened his grip on your hips so intensely he felt your skin break from under him, his nails digging into your flesh as blood ran down your legs, pooling on the sheets, staining his fingertips.

You had a puddle of drool where your face lays. your lips were bleeding from biting down on them so roughly, and your eyes. oh fuck your eyes were so perfect. it was as if sukuna could read a whole book just by looking into your eyes.

Just as he was about to finish, you came all over him once more, wetting the bed, soaking it really. Your walls fluttered all around him like the butterflies in your stomach. as you came, sukuna shot warm ropes of cum straight into your ass and tummy, so full it was leaking out of both your holes. but it wasn't enough.

It wasn't enough for sukuna.

In the middle of both your orgasms, he resumed his thrusts, but your body gave out and you collapsed on the mattress, your stomach hitting the wet bedding.

your body couldn't move, you became putty in his hands and you had no complaints.

sukuna cursed as he crawled over you, his dicks never leaving your walls. one of his arms snaked its way under your arm to grip your throat, another one held your tummy, another spread your legs enough for him to continue fucking you, and the last one held him up.

His hips met your asscheeks in a monsteristic rhythm, a burning sensation beginning to form on your flesh. your eyes rolled into the back of your head as your jaw layed slack open, drool running down your chin.

he was fucking his cum into you, making your soul intertwine with his in more ways than one. He fucked you through your next and final orgasm, your legs shook involuntarily as your guys' mixed cum got everywhere. it dripped down sukuna's cock, onto the mattress, between your thighs, onto his abdomen, all over your asscheeks, it was everywhere.

Your eyes closed, even as his thrusts continued, your mind faded away from your body and before you fully lost consciousness, you could hear sukuna's words ring through your ears.

"Ill see you soon, y/n."

#sukuna x reader #jjk #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna ryomen smut #jjk x reader smut #sukuna true form #sukuna smut #ryomen sukuna smut #ryomen x reader #sukuna jjk #sukuna jujutsu kaisen

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hoshigray · 6 months ago

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Hiiii, I have a request- could you do like jealous or after arguement smex- you can pick any sort of of storyline or any jjk character. (prefferbly a character like sukuna or toji because i feel like they'd be kind mean about it)

Tyy

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: oof, i think after an argument, sex w/kuna would go crazyyy (esp true form! like yikes)

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: true form! Sukuna x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - size difference - fingering (f! receiving) - impact play (spanking + pussy slaps) - clitoral play (grinds, swipes, and pinches) - biting - pinching - degradation (bitch, whore) - monster-fucking (he got 2 dicks) - double penetration; anal and vaginal - backshots/doggy position - pet names ([little]dove, my wife, pet, woman) - multiple orgasms - mention of drool/spit and blood.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.3k

You dare avoid him? The King of Curses? Did the screws in your brain finally come loose, and now you’ve gone mad?

Ryōmen Sukuna rarely lets things slide. He is considered the top dog of the cursed Jujutsu world – he doesn’t find himself bowing down to things because things are supposed to bow to him. Anything and everything doesn’t go unnoticed under his gaze, as that’s the order of things that are supposed to happen.

And this philosophy doesn’t stop with you — his little dove.

Being engaged to a human spouse already raises flags of inconsistency. It isn’t rare for you and Sukuna to argue; the workers of the fortress where you reside can attest to this. The love is there, but Sukuna expects you to understand your standing in this marriage. You may be what he always keeps by his side. However, even you shouldn’t overstep him so carelessly.

Nonetheless, your humanness continues to poke him; your resilience is a thorn to your giant husband’s side. The more disagreements you clash with him, the bolder you’ve become in your standing, which makes the cursed man proud, albeit prefers it wasn’t directed towards him.

And now, after he puts his thunderous foot down and shuts you up with your bickering, you decide to be courageous enough to turn your back on him? Him? Your betrothed? He couldn’t believe what he saw; your expression molded to neutrality before you turned on your heel and headed somewhere away from him. And then you don’t respond when he calls out to you — the absolute nerve.

Oh, you knew Sukuna wasn’t the one to be daring with, especially when you think you can get the last laugh. So, it would be best if he corrected your foolishness.

“—Dahhh! Su’kunaa, stop! Let go—Ohhh!”

“Shut your mouth. Think you’re in any position to order me now, huh?”

He has you pinned to the tatami flooring, his upper hand on your head to keep your cheek printed on the mat despite your cries. The upper right hand has a good hold on your waist while his lower right hand grips your ankle to keep your legs spread. And with the lower left, he uses it to tease and toy with your chasm. The mouth of his chasm laps around your labia to lick the fluids that coat your slit while his middle and ring fingers grind on your sore clitoris.

This is your punishment: your husband reprimanding you as he gesticulates around your body. You can cry and holler all you want, squirm out of his hold when knowing your efforts are futile. He doesn’t care because he knows that he will make this point to you no matter what.

The tongue of his palm easily swallows your essence, pushing the muscle into your cunt to fuck you. You nearly choke on spit, sensing the considerable muscle swirl around your insides and graze your walls. “Mmph! Oh, fuck—Nnnm! Sukuna, no! I just came seconds ag—Oooh!”

“Do I care?” He raises his sole pink brow, four red eyes scanning your figure, writhing because of his touch. “You will cum however many times I say, my wife.” He draws out the last words to your ear, enjoying how small you appear under his massive shape.

He lives for your shrieks, your pitch going higher and higher with every flick of his tongue. Swiping your clit makes it harder to maintain balance, your resolve slipping through your fingers with every push and pull of the abnormal tongue.

“Hahhh, ahhhshit, shiiiit,” your eyebrows scrunch together, nails purchasing on the tatami mat beneath you, which you’re sure your scratches would cause damage. Again, not that your jerk of a spouse would care; he is probably getting a kick out of you losing your poise because of him. “Ooh, ‘Kunaa, y’re going too fast…Nnnn !”

“Oh? Does the dove think I’m going too fast?” Sukuna licks the helix of your ear tantalizingly slow, and you gasp when he bites it while the mouth of his palm sloppily kisses the entrance of your vagina. “You wish to cum again, woman?”

You nod hurriedly, his chuckle rumbling to the core of your heart. The hand on your waist comes up to smack your ass, denting the skin by piercing his fingertips. You howl in pain, “Yesss, I wanna cum again!”

“Hmph, no,” he removes his hand from your throbbing folds before slapping it; the abrupt action erupts a choked sob. Screams fly out at the pinch of his fingers on your delicate bud; the pain from your chasm stings, making your head pound. “You’re not some whore who gets to cum when they want; you’re mine, and cumming without my permission will get you into predicaments worse than this. Are we clear, pet?”

You had no choice in the matter, propping your ass up and your face down, forcing you to take his two cocks with both of your holes.

“Aiishhh, oh Lord, Shhlow down! I’m t’oo full…!”

“Mmnn, khheh, I bet you are, grippin’ on my cocks like a real bitch in heat…”

His lower hands keep hold of your hips, keeping you glued to his pelvis as he pistons his fat dicks into your ass and vagina. The tip brushes on your inner walls, and you mewl at every push as the girth stretches your caves. His upper hands keep you held down to the floor, submitting you to his robust stature that easily swallows your small frame.

Your face is still on the floor, drool trickling down your lips as ineligible babbles seep out. “Nnmahh, ahhaa…!” God, he puts so much strength on your poor body; the inability to move or move away from him keeps you immovable for him.

Sukuna’s pace is unforgiving, propelling himself into your leaky wetness with no remorse. The fact that he has you come two times already doesn’t concern him; if anything, it aids him in pushing to and fro from your tight cunt. He bites his lip from how your rear contracts around him—so snug for his dual limbs as if you’d milk him dry.

“Fsshoo, ohhmy Go—Daah!” A hand finds its way to the left wrist on your shoulder. “Ohh, ‘Kunaa!”

Your wails are broken when he bends down; the added weight is so lethal that you might end up being pressed and being one with the tatami mat. “Hmm? What is it, woman?”

“—Ahhck! Fuuuhuck, pleaseee, can I pwease cu–Uhhmm?!”

You make him snicker, pulling back his rhythm to implement slow yet harsh ruts to your openings while throwing a slap to your asscheek. “Why should I let you?”

A tear rolls down your hot cheek. “Pleasee, forg’ve me! I shouldn’t have…turned my back on you...”

Crimson eyes narrow while observing the way your ass quakes from his powerful pounds. Sukuna then comes to your shoulder to bite on your shoulder, and of course, you yelp bitterly. The sight of his canines drawing blood from his mark dials his excitement. “Say it properly, pet,” he purrs as he licks the wound on your shoulder.

“Mmmm! Suk’naa, my Lord…”

“Hmm?” He cups and squeezes your cheeks with his upper left for access to kiss your neck, and the lower left snakes down to play with your clit again. You gasp from the sensation of the tongue of his stomach licking your back, the colossal muscle having you arch like a cat.

Rubs on your pearl have you squeaking for him and eyes rolling upward— all desperate and aching for your release that you could break any moment. “Forgive me for stepping out of line...Hooooh, I wanna cum on yer cocks,” you admit while swaying your hips. “Please allow me to cum.”

“Depends,” you gulp at his quick answer. “This will be your only kind warning for this; if you dare do it again, don’t ever think of asking me.” Sukuna licks your cheek before he chews on the flesh, your breath halting at the graze of his fangs. “Understand?”

Your brave side takes over to turn to him meekly, watery eyes meeting his fierce red ones – a good move on your part. “Yess, my husband…”

And he sneers. “There you go, little dove.”

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kitten4sannie · 2 months ago

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antithesis

pairing: peter parker/venom! yunho x gf! reader

genre: spider man au, smut

summary: your boyfriend is going through a phase.

w.c: 3.3k (porn with a microscopic amount of plot)

warnings: dom! yunho, sub! reader, venom should have his own warning bc bro is NASTYY (so is yuyu 🤝🏻), partial mind manipulation? on yunho’s part? bc venom is in his head? idk, praise/degradation, pet names/name calling, teasing, fingering, hand kink….,, SIZE KINK., manhandling, pussy eating, tongue kink, raw feral sex (doggy + missionary), bro has a monster cock, also monster fucking!! bc venom takes over <3, cum eating, breeding kink, bulge kink, dacryphilia, mind break, record breaking creampie

a/n: listen …….i LOVE venom, the things i would let venom do to me would set humanity back at least fifty years. NOW VENOM YUNHO ON THE OTHER HAND,, oh boy. boyyyy oh boy. i don’t think i have to explain myself when it comes to that combination bc this fic speaks for itself lol. are you curious now? why don’t you give it a peek then, hm? (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧ and then lemme know what you thought of it pretty please? <3

song rec: new woman - lisa feat. rosalía (get it bc he’s a new man - bc of venom - 😼)

fictober 2024

“And just where have you been, Jeong Yunho?” you asked your boyfriend in a more teasing manner than anything, once he snuck in past the sliding glass door of the balcony, getting up from the couch you were waiting restlessly on. When he stood there silently just looking at you through the white eye shaped sections of his mask, you pouted, nervously wrapping a lock of hair around your finger. “Just be honest with me and I won’t be mad, okay?”

Despite the lack of sleep, you were ready for him this time. He wasn’t about to casually sneak in or out of the house another night that week without you catching him. Usually, you wouldn’t have been concerned because you were used to him being gone when there was crime taking place or a super villain that needed to be brought to justice, but recently…your boyfriend was acting strange. He was starting to become moody and secretive, opting to brush you off when you asked him about it. Yunho had even taken up using substances in his free time, finding him drunk or high off his ass in the apartment when you got home from work. The final straw was when you came home one night to find him in the kitchen with freshly dyed hair and new piercings he had given himself, a few empty boxes of black hair dye and bloody safety pins laying haphazardly on the kitchen counter.

Yunho took off his mask and rubbed at his eyes like he was tired, leaving a bit of smeared eyeliner underneath them, before shoving his hands into the pockets of his frayed jacket, the one that was slightly zipped just enough to cover his iconic red suit.

“She knows about us,” said the annoying parasite that had just recently made a home inside him. “We should eat her.”

“No, I’m not doing that,” Yunho grumbled, running his fingers through his hair in frustration.

You walked up to him, gently putting a hand on his chest. “Yun, I just wanna know where you were at, that’s all. You know I respect your space,” you murmured, your pout growing slightly, your eyebrows upturned with concern.

“She’s looking at us with those big round eyes again, Yunho,” Venom told his host, letting out a disgusting groan only he could hear. “It’s gonna make us hard. If we’re not going to eat her, let’s fuck her, at least.”

“Mingi asked me to take care of some douchebags that had been causing trouble at that new club he works at. That’s all, baby,” Yunho replied softly, reaching down to press the back of his hand against your cheek, before cupping it. He noticed the teary look inside your doe eyes. “Hey, are you okay?”

You nuzzled into his big warm hand, before reaching up and wrapping your arms around his neck to hold your boyfriend close. “I’m fine…I’ve just been worried about you, Yun. You’ve been acting a bit…different.”

“Let’s show her just how different we’ve become, Yunho,” Venom egged him on, knowing Yunho could feel just how much he wanted to break through the barrier of his host’s mind and take control. “She’ll love it.”

How could he possibly explain to you that he was always in a never ending battle with a frightening otherworldly parasite that had found its way inside of him? You would be so scared and disgusted, you’d probably never trust him again. He couldn’t risk losing you, not when you were his only anchor to the normal life he desperately craved, and the first person he’s ever felt this strongly about.

“I’m just going through a phase, I think,” Yunho expressed wholeheartedly, resting his hands around your waist, his thumbs slightly pressing into your hip bones through your sleep shirt, feeling just how delicate you truly were. You were so small compared to him, practically swimming in one of his band t-shirts that you regularly wore to bed; you were so tiny and cute, and…”Malleable,” Venom finished. Yunho couldn’t tell if the parasite was influencing all of his thoughts or if he was just that perverted.

“Do you wanna talk about it, Yun?” You pressed yourself closer to Yunho, feeling his large hands enclose around your small waist, making you feel a bit dizzy. When he shook his head, you tilted yours, wondering if what you felt pushing against your middle was exactly what you thought it was. “Or, do you want to take me to bed?”

It had felt like forever since Yunho had touched you, kissed you even. You had almost forgotten what it was like to feel him inside you, filling you up over and over again until his love spilled out. Just the thought alone made your body begin to overheat. Was it wrong of you to take his simple answer at face value? Should you have pushed the issue, instead of letting him push you back into the wall of the hallway? You weren’t sure, but you were just grateful that your boyfriend still wanted you like this.

“Did punching those guys at the club make you this horny?” you asked playfully, a sudden shiver of pleasure shooting up your spine when Yunho’s warm hands snaked up underneath your shirt and began groping at your tits.

“So horny,” Yunho joked back, a shaky exhale escaping his bobbing throat as he swallowed.

“Nnngh, I didn’t know fighting crime did it for you, Yun.”

“Knowing I’m already getting your little pussy wet just from this is what’s doing it for me, baby,” he whispered into your ear, having to practically lower himself to your height just to do so, able to clearly hear the breathless moan that left your lips. Yunho was already breathing hard, his mind swimming with constant racing thoughts that all pertained to his pretty little girlfriend and what he was going to do to you, squishing your soft flesh in between his slender fingers, using his thumbs to rub your hardening nipples in teasing circles.

It had felt like eternity since Yunho had allowed himself to feel you underneath his touch, to even simply look at you with unbridled lust. He wanted to see all of you, witness the way you completely opened yourself up to him. It was driving him insane. Was it selfish of him to give into temptation when there was something else living inside him? Something that he knew was taking even more pleasure in this than he was? He wasn’t exactly sure, but he knew it was far too late to stop now.

“Let us see her tits, Yunho, they feel so nice inside our hands, we need to see,” Venom demanded, desperately shaking the bars of his figurative cage.

When Yunho tugged your shirt up and over your tits, your gasp became muffled, your eyes widening as he stuffed the hem of the shirt into your mouth. You were going to close your legs to keep your arousal from spilling down your thighs, but your eager boyfriend pushed his larger one in between them.

“You’re so pretty, angel,” Yunho cooed softly, admiring the way you began to grind your cunt against his thigh, despite the sheepish expression you offered him, a bit of drool escaping the corner of his mouth from witnessing such a display of pure desperation. “Look at you go…rubbing yourself all over my thigh like a horny little slut.”

“N-not a slut,” you whimpered softly, his insult causing a fresh wave of slick to leak out onto Yunho’s torn jeans. “Just need you, Yuyu.”

“Her breeding hole needs to be trained to handle my size. Do it now,” Venom growled into Yunho’s mind, growing more and more demanding by the second, very aware that his host was starting to lose control of himself.

“Yeah? How about this?” Yunho pulled your panties to the side so that he could watch as your greedy cunt swallowed up one of his long, bony fingers to the knuckle. “Is that enough, baby?”

“I meant with your human sized cock, you insufferable prick,” Venom chided, simply not understanding the pleasurable benefits that prolonged foreplay could offer being the inhibited hothead that he was.

Something about the way Yunho was taking his time with unraveling you, the way he was drinking in the sight of your bare body with pure lust inside his dilated eyes, all while he had one of his digits plunged inside you. It made you pulse and squeeze around it. “F-full.”

“But I barely fit one finger inside you, sweetheart. What’ll happen if I put another?” Yunho suddenly tugged your borrowed t-shirt up and over your head, leaning in close to your face to catch the way your breath hitched as soon as he slipped another finger inside, curling them just enough to hit your sweet spot each time he finger-fucked you, earning a few whiny moans from his beloved girlfriend. “Oh, that’s right. You turn into my little sex toy, don’t you?”

“Y-esss, Yuyu, just for you, fuck,” you cried out, hooking your arms around his neck to keep yourself from completely melting into the floor.

“That’s a good girl,” he groaned into your ear, quickly stuffing his thick digits into you, unable to get Venom’s ungodly thoughts out of his head all the while, unable to keep himself from shoving a third finger into you, your slick walls pulsating around him. “You think you’re feeling full now…just wait till my cock’s inside you.”

Gasping, your nails dug into his back through his clothes. “Oh my god, Yunho, give it to me, please, please, please,” you whined breathlessly into his neck, trembling in his arms as overwhelming pleasure washed over you. “N-need your cock in me.”

“Fuck, I can’t believe you’re already begging to be fucked like that. I almost forgot how much of a needy little slut you are when you need cock. You like the thought of me stretching out your little pussy that much, huh?” He smiled against your heated skin when you whimpered and nodded eagerly, not allowing you to witness the brief moment his eyes turned completely black. “I just might split you open.”

You almost didn’t recognize your boyfriend when he tossed you onto your shared bed like you weighed close to nothing, and you certainly didn’t recognize him when he manipulated your limbs until you were laying with your head down against the mattress and your ass up in the air. Usually, he wanted to do missionary, so that he could kiss and look at you when you both came undone, but now, now he had you in a position that was apparently ‘perfect for breeding’, or at least, that’s what you thought you had heard him mumbling about from behind you.

“Now’s the time, human. We must show her how great we are,” the alien reminded Yunho, delighted that his black parasitic poison was now making its way through his host’s veins, showing up from underneath his milky skin. It was changing him in ways that would most definitely benefit all three of you.

Yunho squeezed his large hands into the sides of your ass and spread it open, hyper focused on your dripping cunt and how it struggled to accommodate his obscene size. “Poor baby’s so tiny, my little princess can barely take me inside her pretty cunt,” he sighed, pulling out just enough to send a few strands of spit onto his own cock, lubing up the base of it and pushing back in, a shiver of pleasure shooting up his spine as soon as he heard the broken cry that left your drooling mouth. “Looks like we’re going to have to break you in.”

You felt like you were losing your mind. Your boyfriend had just barely bottomed out inside of you and you were already about to cream yourself. And, it might’ve been the cock drunk state you were in, but you swore to god that his dick got bigger. It felt like it was kissing your cervix already and he hadn’t even moved yet. Not to mention, it felt so hot inside you, and there was so much pre-cum coating your walls, you almost thought he had came prematurely, but he would’ve been asleep and snoring away already if he did.

Yunho violently interrupted your train of thought by slamming his hips forward, letting out a deep, long groan as though he were experiencing euphoria. He grabbed your wrists and held them behind your back, tucking them together so that he could hold them both with one large hand, and quickly got to work, yanking you back onto his cock, using you like his own personal sex doll. “That’s fucking it, isn’t it, angel? You like that? You fucking like that?”

“Yeah, fuck me,” you moaned back, realizing this ‘phase’ of Yunho’s was one of the best things that could’ve ever happened to the both of you, previously unaware that something this rough, something this animalistic, could feel as good as it did.

“She’s ours, she’s ours, Yunho, fuck, we’re going to cum inside her,” Venom blissfully announced into Yunho’s head, fully taking over his host in that very instant, gracing Yunho with the symbiote’s much more endowed features.

It was then that you let out a sudden gasp, the air that quickly filled your lungs leaving as a wavering moan of pleasure instead. It was almost as if Yunho’s cock had grown twice in size. You didn’t even know how that was possible, but you were too lost in the moment to question it. “So big, it’s so fucking big, Yunho, nnnngh, it’s gonna break me,” you exhaled, quickly pulling at the sheets once he gifted you partial physical autonomy, your eyes beginning to disappear underneath your eyelashes.

“That’s right, pretty girl, and you’re going to keep taking it all, even after I’m done impregnating you,” Yunho agreed huskily, bending over you until his overheated body pressed into your shoulders and back, his long fingers curling around the softness of your hips. Just as his never ending seed spilled into you and made its way into your womb, Yunho dragged his long tongue up in between your straining shoulder blades and along your neck, savoring your flavor. He truly wanted to eat you, unable to stop drooling, but the annoying mortal he shared this body with wouldn’t let him. Venom figured he would have to settle for the next best thing.

You didn’t even have a chance to finish shaking, let alone take a breath, before you were being lifted up and lowered back down onto your boyfriend’s face, your cunt fitting snugly between the curves of Yunho’s lips and nose. Just as he lapped at your extremely sensitive clit and slit, you couldn’t help but jolt away, his forearms suddenly locking tightly around your middle. “O-oh…!”

“Hold still. Need a taste of this pretty cunt,” Yunho growled under his breath, angling his head back and opening his mouth wide enough so that he could explore the entirety of your used cunt, licking and drinking up the mixed arousal that spilled out of you to his heart’s content.

“Y-yunhooo,” you whined pathetically, reaching forward to hold onto the headboard to keep yourself from passing out from the pleasure that was overloading your mind, looking down to watch how he eagerly nosed at your clit. “Fuck, i’ll cum again…”

“Then, do it, princess.” Just as he swallowed down more of your wetness, he realized it wasn’t enough, unable to keep himself from sliding the entirety of his tongue inside you, feeling you clench around the base of it.

“Oh my god, your tongue, it’s so–haaaah,” you reacted breathlessly, digging your nails into the wood of the headboard, the longer his serpent-like tongue slithered in and out of you so seamlessly, unable to fully understand how any of this was possible. When the thickest part of his appendage rubbed at your g-spot, you saw white around your vision, your ears ringing, unable to hear the filthy slurping sounds Yunho was making underneath you as he drank up your squirt.

When you came to, you were back underneath Yunho, in the missionary position he loved so much, yet this time it was profoundly different. His eyes were as dark as his freshly dyed hair, one corner of his mouth split open, inviting a myriad of long, serrated fangs, all while black wispy tendrils clung onto one side of his face like a second skin. You realized too late why Yunho was acting so out of character, and that you were never actually alone with him the past few weeks. You had an uninvited guest, an alien symbiote known as Venom, to be exact — and here you were, face to face with him, his disgustingly oversized cock stretching you wide open.

“Oh god, you’re actually going to split me open, what the fuck,” you gasped sharply, clutching the sides of Yunho’s cheeks, your fingers tugging at the ends of his sweaty hair.

“Silly human, as much as we’d enjoy seeing that, you won’t split apart. You have a prime body for breeding, didn’t you know?” he chuckled darkly in a two-toned voice, pressing his hand down into your abdomen to feel the sheer size of himself protruding through your lower belly each time his hips routinely smacked into yours. “We knew Spider-man’s pretty little girlfriend would make a perfect host for our offspring. Just look at you, you’re taking us so well.”

You didn’t know what was going to break your mind first, the fact that you were essentially being used as a breeding tool for an alien that would take great pleasure in swallowing you whole, or the fact that your cunt was eagerly swallowing up something so absurdly large, its heavy girth and width stretching you so wide, it felt as though you would fall apart at any given time. Despite the insanity of it all, your body and mind welcomed it, creaming yourself on his alien cock.

“Good girlll,” Yunho praised, letting his long slimy tongue slip out to lick up the side of your cheek until he tasted the salt from the tears that fell down your face. He fully sheathed himself inside you one last time, before his large hands cemented around your waist, holding you completely still as his hot load joined the other one he had previously fucked into you, his heavy breaths warming the skin of your neck. “That’s it, princess, take it all, just like that…”

You could hardly breathe, let alone move, simply laying still in your boyfriend’s arms, taking everything he gave you, as wave after wave of cum coated the insides of your aching cunt and flooded womb, some of it spilling down the insides of your legs and dripping onto the stained sheets below. It felt so good to be filled up in such a way that you came again without direct stimulation, letting out a broken cry, before Yunho silenced you with a kiss.

When you opened your teary eyes, your boyfriend’s previously monstrous traits were gone, instead replaced with his usual soft, flushed features that you adored so much. You watched him open and close his mouth, as if he didn’t know what to say. You pressed another kiss to his lips, gently running your fingers through his hair. “Should we go to the drugstore to get Plan B?”

Yunho gave you a goofy, though apologetic smile, leaning his face into your neck to give it a few kisses. He pulled himself back up to face you, his eyebrows upturned. “D-do you think it would work on an alien symbiote?”

You patted his head, knowing what you signed up for when you decided to date the Spider-man, figuring one of his superhero friends would have a solution for the both of you. You gave him a soft smile, happy when he returned it. “If not, let’s get a refund.”

Apply for the taglist here ⇢ ♡

fictober taglist: @littlefireball @crazylittlebisexual @luvbit3z @hwasbbyg @ane102 @linearities @hoe4yunho @tearfulsparks78 @sunkislove @binniesbabe @peelingpaint-heavyheart @prodsh00ky @dawn-iscozy @peachyy-jooniee @sunwoosbaby @screaming4san @cowgirlkller @markleecankickme @comicnerd557 @stay-thing-things @Alexxbear69 @kpopandthings @dekyepunn @m4m4-s4m4

#cromernet #ateez #ateez smut #jeong yunho #yunho smut #yunho x reader #ateez x reader #ateez fic #ateez fanfic #kpop smut

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yandere-writer-momo · 6 months ago

Text

Shoutout to Monster Anon for another amazing idea

Yandere Short Stories:

Right Where I Want You

Yandere Private Investigator x Fem Reader

TW: Yandere themes, delusional behavior, unhealthy behavior, racism (ex mil makes a comment), savior complex, murder, stalking, etc.

Inhale. Exhale. Nicalli blew cigarette smoke from his lips while his body sunk into his plush couch in his pent house. Another failure of a day in an attempt to find dirt on his target.

The stench from his lit cigarette did little to soothe the loneliness in Necalli’s heart. No, this small vice merely burned the back of his throat and made his clothes reek of bad decisions. This small action did little to satiate the growing lust that consumed his very being.

Nicalli ran an umber hand through his long, black hair. A few strands stuck to his sweaty palms while his heart raced in his chest.

Nicalli had been plagued with alien feelings ever since he’s taken on this new case. The case that involved the Goldberg family and their son’s fiancée, (your full name).

He has been a private investigator for over a decade and he’s never had someone be so innocent. How could (your name) not have a single speck of dirt on her?! Good people didn’t exist in this world! There was no way someone so pure could be involved with the Goldberg family…

Nicalli sighed in frustration and put his cigarette out on the jaguar shaped ashtray on his coffee table. His russet eyes scanned the various documents before him in frustration.

All he had were pictures of her helping at the local soup kitchen and her indulging in her small hobbies. She was so mundane… he didn’t have anything to give his employer to ‘protect her precious son.’

Nicalli had been on this case for eight months now and he still had nothing but pictures of this absurdly beautiful woman. Henry Goldberg was lucky to have such a faithful woman… Nicalli would die for one.

Nicalli didn’t believe in love after the betrayal of his lover when he was in the military. It was that betrayal that made him become a private investigator in the first place so no one else had to find out like he did… yet this life was lonely. Nicalli was so lonely and now he was enchanted by his target. How pathetic was that?

Nicalli continued to admire to various pictures he had of (your name). She was really beautiful… how could someone smile so joyously? There was nothing in this world to be happy about… or was there?

Nicalli recalled the memory of when he first received this job. He sat in the Goldberg mansion’s study. His large body squished into a small leather chair while the mother and son gave him fake smiles.

“We need you to investigate (your full name).” Mrs. Goldberg pushed a file towards Nicalli, the Mexican man accepted the file with a solemn look. “I feel like she’s cheating on my son… or even involved in some sort of illegal activity.”

Nicalli was shocked to open the file to see the smiling face of a beautiful young woman. This woman was involved in some sort of illegal activity? She looked like she couldn’t harm a fly!

“I will be able to sleep better at night knowing my son is in good hands.” Mrs. Goldberg she d a few crocodile tears before Henry Goldberg handed Nicalli a check that would make anyone gasp at the amount.

“I heard you’re the best in the business so please, don’t disappoint us.”

Nicalli took the money and nodded his head. He could do this… this job would be like all the others…

Nicalli felt his breath hitch the first day he saw (your name). He’s never seen someone so pretty before… she had to be some sort of forest fairy rather than a human.

Nicalli studied her from his car, his russet eyes studied her in great interest. He has followed her around for weeks now and there was still not a speck of dirt on her…

Nicalli was in disbelief. (Your name) seemed to be a good person… but he was determined to find something on her. Anything would do.

So he continued to stalk her which brought him to present day…

“Have a good day!” (Your name) smiled at the various homeless people that inhabited the soup kitchen. She served each one with a cheery smile, even if they seemed displeased with her.

Nicalli sat in the corner at a bench. His russet eyes studied her in distaste. Didn’t she tire of this? These people didn’t appreciate her company… no one seemed to despite her constant efforts. Nicalli didn’t understand the point of her unnecessary kindness.

(Your name) was so sweet, she could make teeth rot. A woman like her didn’t belong in a place like this, it was dangerous-

Nicalli jumped when (your name) stood before him, a bowl of soup in her hands.

“Hello?” (Your name) tilted off her head to the side as she studied Nicalli in interest. “I always spot you here, but you never come up to the stand so I thought I’d come to you.”

Shit. He had grown careless since she’s so docile… now she knew his face. Should he just call the mission a done deal?

Nicalli was shocked when she gently placed the bowl in front of him with a soft smile. “Here. Enjoy some soup, okay? You always look so sad…”

Nicalli bit his tongue. No matter how badly he wanted to refuse her, he couldn’t bring himself to. If he rejected her kindness, it would be as if he kicked a puppy. And people do not kick puppies.

Nicalli was surprised that the soup was delicious but then he saw her smile even wider.

“I made the soup, so please enjoy to your heart’s content. If you need anything, I’m (your name)! I’ll see you around, mister!” She then went back to the kitchen while Nicalli sat dumbfounded.

The Hispanic man sat there for a few minutes longer before he felt a blush envelope his cheeks. His heart wildly leapt in his chest and his palms began to sweat buckets. What just happened to him?

There was no way… no way he had a crush on (your name)? Yet he couldn’t help the way his eyes shyly glanced towards her bubbly form while she served the rest of the costumers.

She was a good person… (your name) was a genuinely good person. Nicalli was sure of it. And now he needed to report his findings to the Goldbergs.

It took everything in Nicalli not to choke slam Henry Goldberg into the velvet carpet in his study. This man was a bastard… he didn’t deserve (your name).

“God, I thought you were the best of the best!” Henry sighed while his parents chuckled.

“Now son, I’m sure he’ll find something on that commoner.” Mrs. Goldberg pointed out to her son who scoffed.

“Mommy, at the rate he’s going. He’ll need to make something up!” Henry hummed, the man reached for his check book. “How much money do you need to fabricate a lie on her? I truly cannot marry a commoner, but it looks good for the citizens-“

Nicalli furrowed his brow. What on earth were they on about? “Aren’t you happy she’s a good person?”

Henry and his mother paused before the two of them erupted into laughter. “Happy she’s a good person? No one told us you were a comedian!!”

“How about you plant one of my necklaces or jewels in her home so we have the grounds to annul this engagement? I really cannot have my son end up with a woman so poor like that.” Mrs. Goldberg took off her diamond necklace and tried to hand it to Nicalli but the private investigator pushed it back toward her. “Oh come on. People like you are familiar with stealing, right?”

Nicalli’s head spun in horror and confusion. They were going to frame her to make themselves look better for the people… they were going to frame an innocent woman for a crime. The Goldbergs were horrible people… horrible villains.

“Mother, not all Mexicans are thieves.” Henry rolled his eyes before he gave Nicalli a knowing smile. “But I do need you to pin a crime of some sort on her. I can’t have her have the Goldberg family name.”

Even though Nicalli wanted to scream at the two of them, he must feel himself in. He needed to have evidence to show (your name) to save her. Nicalli wanted to save her… she didn’t deserve to have her name tarnished over corrupt people like these ones.

“I’ll see what I can do.” Nicalli gave the Goldbergs a stiff smile. Yes… he’d contact his sources to dig dirt up on the Goldbergs.

Nicalli didn’t become a private investigator to harm innocent people. Nicalli did this to protect the innocent from heart break.

Nicalli threw his coffe table across the room after his source had called him and faxed him over pictures of Henry Goldberg with escorts. Bastard… that fucking bastard!

Henry had this perfect woman and he cheated on her with escorts?! He was involved in drug and sex slave trafficking?! This was a rabbit hole Nicalli never thought he’d find himself in… and he had to get (your name) out.

A man like that didn’t deserve her… not like he did. Nicalli would treasure a woman like her. He’s pamper her and make sure she was properly pleasured- what the hell was that?!

Nicalli shook his head to clear his thoughts. How dare he think of her in such a way… Nicalli wasn’t worthy of her.

Nicalli’s cheeks flushed in anger. Henry had to suffer. He had to pay for his crimes. The Goldbergs had to pay for their crimes.

Nicalli snatched one of the pictures up before he was able to locate Henry’s location. It would be easy to track him down… Nicalli was all too familiar with the Red Light District.

All he needed to do was figure out which vehicle was his, but that couldn’t be too hard. Henry was a classic spoiled narcissist. His car would be colorful and loud, just like him.

The death of Henry Goldberg was on every news channel and in every article. His shiny red sports car was totaled and the bodies of two escorts were found with him. The cause of death was drunk driving and brake failure.

There was not a doubt in Nicalli’s mind that (your name) would be distraught… but he had to take care of Mrs. Goldberg first.

Nicalli adjusted his black leather gloves on his hands as he slowly approached the Goldberg’s office to discuss further business. The pistol with a silencer attached was buried deep within his coat.

This was all for (your name)‘s future… for their future together. It only made sense to him that he got the girl after saving her! Nicalli could make her happy!

Nicalli would have (your name) right where he wanted her…

(Your name) sniffled in her bed, her body trembled in sorrow. She couldn’t believe Henry died and his mother had committed suicide… she knew Mrs. Goldberg adored her son, but she had no idea it was to such an extent…

Yet she wasn’t surprised about Henry being a deviant. It was why she avoided being physical with him. There was a small voice in the back of her head that told her he was bad news… yet was it wrong for her to want the money to live a good life? She’d never have to worry about bills again if she married him… but then he sent the private investigator her way.

God, it irritated her… but she wasn’t a horrible person. She just wanted a better life was all… was that a crime?

And she always felt unsettled under that man’s gaze. He had such sharp features and such a piercing stare. There was no way people didn’t know he was there when his presence felt like a predator’s.

The man had such a bewitching appearance. Hell, his hair was prettier than hers and his hooked nose was gorgeous… that private investigator was more attractive than her dead white fiancé.

So when she had a package full of photos of Henry with escorts, she knew it was her ‘stalker.’ It was nice to know he had a good moral compass, but these photos were too late. They weren’t anything she wasn’t aware of.

Despite her bubbly attitude, (your name) was not naive. She knew the Goldbergs weren’t good people. No old money family were.

(Your name) sighed as she rose up from her bed and wiped her eyes. There went her plan to be with a man with a trust fund…

(Your name) was surprised to see a bouquet of red roses and carnations on her doorstep. It seemed that private investigator may have a crush.

(Your name) smiled in thought. He was a private investigator for rich people, right? Then maybe he had the money to ensure she had a good life?

She turned her head and spotted the shy man on his car. That classic 1964 Chevrolet impala always stuck out like a sore thumb.

(Your name) wiped her eyes a bit before she gave him a smile. She could spot his red cheeks from her place by her door. It seemed she wouldn’t have to work too hard for this one… because she had him right where she wanted him.

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peachdues · 1 year ago

Text

IN THE NETHERWOOD

PART I

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just like his four other previous wives.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you being pursued?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

“Where did you get that cloak?”

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

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

“How do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Torches.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You scowled. “He is not my fiancé,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And the two of you set off into the Netherwood.

———

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

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

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

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

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

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

The journey was taking longer than Sanemi originally believed.

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

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

You hadn’t meant to stumble across it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he had.

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

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

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

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

“You should be,” Sanemi answered.

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

Sanemi swallowed hard. “Perhaps.”

You took another step. “Recently?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Perhaps. I’m quite scary.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your name.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’d as good as doomed him.

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

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

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

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

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

You’d grown up alongside it, after all.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And Sanemi told you to run.

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

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

You had to. You would.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Alone. You were completely and utterly alone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you kill them?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

At least it had not been entirely flayed open.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And Sanemi noticed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You craved that feeling — craved him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was a sight to behold.

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

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

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

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

You frowned. “Too close for what —“

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

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

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

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

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

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

Another amused chuff.

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

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

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

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

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

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

————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You balked at him. “A bite?”

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

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

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

You gulped. “Would you have to transform?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was dangerous; it was thrilling.

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

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

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

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

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

—-

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

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

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

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

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

The thought made your stomach clench painfully.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sanemi hesitated.

“Wolf?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You still did.

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

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

Sanemi hesitated again. “Wolves only mark once.”

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

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

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

He’d put you first.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And apparently, he enjoyed playing with his food.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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fatecantstopme · 9 months ago

Text

Not Good Enough

Pairing: Dean Winchester x plus size!reader

Summary: You overhear Dean say some hurtful things about you to Sam and decide you need to change, much to Dean's dismay.

Warnings: cursing, mutual pining, mentions of violence, body issues/esteem issues, past trauma, illusions to eating disorders and sexual assault. SMUT, oral (M and F receiving), unprotected sex (P in V), dom/sub vibes, dirty talk.

You didn't like to think about your life before the Winchesters. Most of the time, it was easier to pretend you didn't have a past--no dark and morbid history to share, no pain and trauma still lingering deep within you.

Sam and Dean were the only ones you'd felt comfortable opening up to, and even that took years. Life had not been kind to you, and the scars on your body and in your mind were the proof.

Eight years ago, your hellish life took a turn for the better, but only after you almost lost it. You'd been walking home after a late night filled with bad decisions, when you were attacked. The man was fast, vicious, and cruel--taking what he wanted from you and leaving you for dead.

As fate would have it, the Winchester brothers were in town hunting a nest of vampires, and had been prowling around downtown waiting for one to make an appearance.

It was Dean who heard your screams, your cries for help, your sobs. It was Dean who came running into the dark alleyway without a thought for his own well-being. It was Dean who dropped to his knees beside your beaten and broken body...who took his jacket off and draped it over you to cover your mostly exposed form. It was Dean who gently scooped you into his arms and carried you to his car...and it was Dean that stood beside your hospital bed until you opened your eyes again.

Sam had eventually tracked down the man who had attacked you. It turned out, he had attacked several other women in the downtown area over the previous few months. Dean had been surprised to discover the man was just that--a man. Not a shapeshifter, a ghoul, a demon...not a vampire or a werewolf...just a man. His status as a human did not, however, make him any more safe from your avenging savior.

You'd never asked Dean exactly what had happened to your attacker, and he'd never talked about it. All you knew was he would never hurt anyone ever again.

It was unlike Dean to trust a stranger, and certainly out of character for him to confide in one, but there was something about you that seemed to draw him in. He felt as if he'd found a kindred spirit in you, someone who could understand him in a way even his brother couldn't.

Once you were on the mend, Dean made you an offer--one you were thankful you didn't refuse. You joined the brothers on their adventures--saving people, hunting things, the whole nine yards.

Overtime, you had become an integral part of their small family unit. Either brother would have died for you and you for them. There had been more than one close call for each of you over the past eight years, and more than one monster brutally slain to protect you.

You were closer in age to Sam, only a year younger than him, but Dean had always been the one you were closer to. Just as Dean had seen a kindred spirit in you, you had seen one in him. He understood you, he respected you, and he cared about you more deeply than anyone in your life ever had.

In the long years you'd spent in their constant company, you'd begun to change. The darkness that lived inside you seemed to fade, as if being near the Winchesters brought a light into your life you didn't know you needed. The mental scars you'd carried began to heal, even if the ones on your skin would always be visible.

There were still days where the darkness would rise within you, dark thoughts rolling through your mind, bringing you to your knees with a pain you could never describe. There were days when you would look in the mirror and hate the reflection gazing back at you--seeing the girl you had once been instead of the woman you now were.

There were moments when you'd forget all the progress you'd made, mind focusing instead on all of your flaws, all of your failures. The worst part was many of them lived only in your mind--you knew no one but you could see them, but that didn't make them any less real to you.

Lately, you had been struggling with self-esteem issues you'd long since buried. You'd thought you'd come to terms with who you were and what you looked like--accepted the body you had. Weight had been a struggle for you your entire life, and for a long time, you turned to terrible habits in order to lose weight and attempt to keep it off.

Those habits had ended eight years ago, but the issues they'd covered did not. Today was one of the bad days. One of the days you stared in the mirror and hated the image you saw--the softness, the curves, the fat. That was the word that kept repeating in your mind, fat, fat, fat.

You tried desperately to block it out, to remember why you loved your body just as it was, but those thoughts wouldn't leave you alone. The darkness inside you was too much to battle, the pain of hating yourself too much to cope with.

You'd been thankful for the bunker the day the three of you had discovered it, but you were even more grateful on days like today. Days you wanted to spend holed up in your room, refusing to face the outside world.

As much as you wanted to lay in bed for the entire day, your grumbling stomach soon became too much to ignore. You knew you needed to eat--there could be no more starving yourself, no more binging and purging--you needed to eat.

You dragged yourself out of bed and tugged on a pair of sweatpants before cautiously opening your bedroom door. You listened for the sounds of either brother moving around. Upon hearing none, you made your way slowly towards the kitchen, intent on making yourself a sandwich and retreating to the safety of your room.

Just before you rounded the corner to head into the kitchen, you heard Dean's low voice rumbling from inside. You froze in place, pressing yourself against the wall, not wanting to be seen or heard. You fully intended to creep back to your room--you really did--but the sound of your name leaving Dean's lips held you in place.

"(Y/N)'s not strong enough," Dean hissed. You could tell by the tone of his voice he was angry, very angry.

"Oh come on," Sam snapped. "She's been doing this for eight years. She's more than capable."

"Are you insane? I mean, really and truly crazy? She'll get herself killed!" Dean's voice had risen in volume and you heard Sam shush him quietly.

"Don't wake her up," Sam chided.

You heard Dean's annoyed sigh and your eyes fluttered closed for a moment. You knew what they were fighting about. You and Sam had a conversation a couple days ago about you hunting on your own. You'd asked for his thoughts and Sam had been honest and supportive. He said you were more than capable of hunting on your own, should he or Dean not be available to go with you. Your hunting skills were certainly not on their level, but if the case was simple enough, you would be fine.

Clearly Dean did not agree with his brother's assessment of your abilities. "She's not strong enough, or fast enough, or physically prepared to hunt on her own. She's just not, okay? She's different from us...she's not built like we are."

"Do you even hear yourself?" Sam asked incredulously.

You bit your lip to keep from whimpering aloud, Dean's words having cut straight through you like a hot knife. You blinked back your tears as you moved as quickly as possible back to your room without making noise.

Dean's words repeated on a loop inside your head, echoing your own darkest thoughts about yourself. Even Dean thought you were too fat, too weak, too useless to do anything on your own. You realized he likely only allowed you to hunt with him because he felt sorry for you--a pitying friendship you didn't ask for.

Despite the irrationality of your thoughts, you could not escape them. You couldn't fight them off, either because you didn't have the strength or because you were afraid they were right. Your mind once again played tricks on you, dragging you down into the darkness--but this time you succumbed, allowing your own tears to drag you into a nightmare fueled sleep.

Unbeknownst to you, Sam and Dean's conversation had continued in the kitchen. Neither of them had noticed your presence, both too upset with the other to focus on anything else.

"Look, (Y/N) is my best friend. Other than you, she's my favorite person...hell, I like her more than you sometimes," Dean confessed. "I just--I don't want to lose her. If we let her go out there without backup and something happens to her, I'll never forgive myself. I'd rather her never hunt at all, but I think she'd kill me if I told her to sit out on a fight just because I'm terrified of her dying."

Sam was quiet for a moment as he regarded his brother. Dean was not known for his vulnerability, nor for sharing any of his deeper emotions, but Sam could see something simmering just beneath the surface--some emotion beyond rage and fear lurked in his brother's green eyes.

"What are you really saying, Dean?" Sam asked quietly.

Dean looked at the floor for a long moment before answering. "When we met (Y/N), I was instantly drawn to her--like a moth to flame. I don't know what it was, but I felt connected to her in a way I'd never felt before. That feeling has only grown in the past eight years and now I can't imagine living life without her. I don't want to imagine it. A world without (Y/N) in it isn't a world I want to exist in."

Sam exhaled slowly, realization crossing his features. It was rare for Dean to care for someone so deeply, but when he did, he became irrationally protective. Sam was painfully familiar with that particular side of his brother's nature. He also knew what it meant, what Dean was really saying--even if he wasn't ready to admit it.

"You should talk to (Y/N)," Sam urged. "Both about how you feel, and about why you don't want her to hunt alone."

"What do you mean, 'how I feel'?"

Sam raised his eyebrows. "You know exactly what I mean." He didn't give his brother a chance to respond. He grabbed a water bottle from the fridge and walked out the door, claiming a need to workout.

Dean watched Sam walk away, and a feeling of mild terror settled into his bones. He'd come very close to admitting how he really felt about you and it scared him. Hell, his feelings scared him. The fact that he was foolish enough to fall in love was bad enough, but the fact that you were the one who'd stolen his heart made it so much worse.

He'd told himself he would never fall in love, never get married, never settle down--this life wasn't conducive to any sort of domestic bliss. Part of him didn't think he deserved that kind of happiness, but the main issue was the danger of loving you so deeply. He knew the risks, knew how it would turn out--bloody, like it always did.

In his mind, the only way he could keep you safe was to pretend all he felt for you was platonic friendship. He could protect you on hunts and his guard would never be down around you, so he could protect you in every way. He'd seen how far you'd come, how strong you now were, and there was no way he would be the reason the world lost your beautiful soul.

No one could ever know the truth, not even Sam. The only way this didn't end bloody was if you never even suspected Dean loved you. No monster would be able to use his love for you against you, no monster would ever hurt you just to get to him. For you, for your safety, he was willing to break his own heart.

**********

It had been three days since you'd overheard the conversation between Sam and Dean. The first two days, you'd remained secluded in your room, claiming a migraine any time either of the boys came to check on you.

This morning, however, you'd woken up with a goal. You showered, got dressed, and made your way to the kitchen. As you were fixing yourself some breakfast, you heard someone enter the room.

"You're up early," Sam said warmly.

You turned to glance at him with a soft smile. "I wanted to get a head start on the day."

Sam raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment. "You're feeling better, I take it."

You nodded. "Yeah, that headache was brutal." You felt bad for lying, but it was easier to fein a migraine than it was to admit what you'd overheard and the dark thoughts you'd been plagued with.

"Well, I'm gonna go for a run," Sam said cheerfully. "Any chance I could entice you to come with me?"

You laughed and rolled your eyes. "Not unless someone's chasing me."

He chuckled and ducked out of the kitchen, taking a bottle of water with him. Sam always asked if you wanted to join him on his morning runs, but he knew you were unlikely to ever agree. You hated running almost as much as Dean did.

You ate your breakfast quietly, contemplating your plans for the day. You had decided to start a new routine today, a routine you intended to continue until you felt better about yourself or until you could get Dean's words out of your head, whichever came first.

After breakfast, you went into the library to do some reading, intending to allow your stomach time to digest your food. You weren't sure exactly how much time had passed, but Sam had returned from his run, showered, and was now eating his breakfast at the table while scrolling through the latest news stories on his computer.

Dean, unsurprisingly, was still not awake, despite the fact that it was 10am.

You closed your book and stood up. "I'll be down in the gym if you need me," you said to Sam as you crossed the room towards the door.

"You'll--what?"

You gestured towards the hall behind you. "I'll be in the gym."

He looked perplexed, but didn't comment on your sudden desire to workout. He could tell something was a little off with you, but he had the feeling you wouldn't want to talk about it, so he decided to let it go. After all, it's not like going to the gym was something he needed to worry about--it wouldn't kill you (unlike some of your previous bad choices).

When you reached the gym, you looked around and sighed. You'd always hated working out. It was a reminder how out of shape you were and how imperfect your body was. Sure, hunting kept you relatively healthy--you had surprising stamina and endurance, but the weight just never seemed to fall off. You'd begun to feel like your fat was holding some kind of grudge against you, intent on making your life miserable for some perceived slight.

You sighed again and walked over to the treadmill in the corner. You stared at it for a few minutes, deciding whether you really wanted to use it. You'd always hated the treadmill, but you needed to start somewhere, so you hopped on and started to walk at a brisk pace.

Thirty minutes later, you switched to the stationary bike, wanting a change from the monotony of walking. Twenty minutes after that, you were bored out of your mind. You decided to try something else. Maybe lifting weights would do the trick.

About two reps in, your headphones died and you groaned in annoyance. You tugged them out of your ears and tossed them to the floor, opting instead to blast your music loudly through the bluetooth speaker Sam kept down there.

Alanis Morissette's voice now carried down the hall, but you couldn't be bothered to care. She was your go-to when you were feeling angry or upset, her music always making you feel better, especially when you scream-sang along.

After a few more reps, you decided to work on your boxing skills. Sam had taught you years ago, mostly as a way to teach you some fighting skills. You wrapped your hands to protect your knuckles, settled into your stance, and began hitting the punching bag. The release of frustration you felt was almost immediate and you realized you should have just done this from the start.

Upstairs, Dean was just returning from running an errand. He'd woken up and been distressed to find they were out of bacon and beer--his two main food groups. He'd gone to the grocery store to restock and was now happily cooking an excessive amount of bacon for his breakfast.

"You know you should eat something besides bacon, right?" Sam teased him.

"Nothing is better than bacon, Sammy. Nothing." Dean scooped the rest of the bacon onto his plate with a look of glee.

"Heart attack on a plate," Sam muttered.

"Oh shut it," Dean grumbled as he bit into his first piece. He moaned obnoxiously, causing his brother to roll his eyes dramatically. "Where's (Y/N)?" He asked, words garbled by the bacon he was still chewing.

"What?"

Dean swallowed. "Where's (Y/N)? I stopped by her room before I went out and she was gone."

"She's in the gym."

"I'm sorry, she's what?"

Sam shrugged. "She's in the gym. She went down after breakfast."

"Why?"

"I assume to work out," Sam said lightly.

Dean groaned. "Obviously, smartass, but why was she gonna work out?"

"I don't know, dude. Why don't you ask her?"

Dean looked down at his plate. "I will once I finish my bacon."

Sam rolled his eyes, but didn't comment further.

Once Dean had finished his breakfast, he made his way down to the gym, a feeling of dread settling into his stomach. He couldn't really put a finger on why, only that he didn't like the feeling.

As he neared the gym, he heard 'You Oughta Know' blasting down the hallway. He didn't hear your voice over the lyrics until he actually entered the room. He would have smiled at the sight if he wasn't so worried about you.

Your back was to him as you continued to pummel the absolute shit out of the punching bag. Dean had to admire both your form and the power you exuded. But as he watched you, that feeling of dread began to creep higher into his chest, wrapping itself around his heart.

He called out your name, but you couldn't hear him over the music. He spotted the speaker and walked over to turn it off, plunging the room into a shocking silence.

You spun around, surprised to see Dean standing beside the speaker. "I, uhh, I called your name," he muttered sheepishly.

"Oh, sorry. I was kinda in the zone."

He nodded. "Yeah, I noticed. So, uh, whatcha doin'?"

You raised an eyebrow. "Working out...as one does in a gym."

He winced, feeling like an idiot. "I know that, but what I don't know is why."

"Why what?"

"Why are you suddenly working out in the gym for two straight hours? You hate the gym."

You stared at him with an unreadable expression. Your eyes were dark and your jaw was set as you regarded him. "You can't think of any reason?"

Dean thought about it for a moment. "No...hence why I'm asking."

You gestured to your body. "Because I'm not strong enough or fast enough or physically fit enough to hunt...sound familiar?"

Dean winced, eyes widening with realization. "(Y/N), I--"

You held up your hand. "No need to apologize, Dean. I realized you were right. I am weaker than you and Sam, I am slower and heavier and fatter--I am completely less physically capable than either of you. So obviously, I need to do something about that. Hence the gym."

Dean stared at her, anger darkening his features. "None of that is true."

"Of course it is, Dean. You said it yourself. I'm just agreeing with you."

"Of course you're not the same as us, (Y/N), but that has nothing to do with your body or your weight or your ability. We're men, and large ones at that. We're physically built different than you, but that doesn't mean you need to change anything about yourself to be more like us."

"Well clearly I do, or you wouldn't have found my body so unacceptable--you wouldn't have told Sam I'm not capable of hunting on my own."

Whatever thread was keeping Dean from yelling finally snapped. "Your body isn't unacceptable! You aren't weak! There is nothing wrong with you--nothing!"

You were stunned into silence by the intensity of his words. You didn't know how to react or what to say.

Dean sighed deeply, feeling the anger drain out of him at last. "You didn't hear the rest of our conversation, did you?" His voice was barely a whisper, but you could hear the raw emotion in it.

You shook your head.

"You should have stayed...you may have learned something."

"What would I have learned?" you asked quietly.

"You would have realized that your interpretation of my words wasn't at all how I meant them. You would have heard me tell Sam how terrified I am of losing you, how that fear makes me want to keep you out of this life--away from hunting entirely. You would have seen that I love you just the way you are--that I don't want you to change a single thing about yourself. You would know that I am the problem, not you...it was never you."

"Dean..." you whispered, unsure of what to say. "You...you don't need to try and make me feel better."

He stared at you, green eyes full of fire. "I'm not trying to make you feel better. I'm trying to be honest about my feelings--to make you see you the way I see you."

"Why now?"

He was taken aback by your question, and it took him several moments to respond. "You know how I feel about romantic attachments...I worry about losing the person I love most, simply because they were unlucky enough to be loved by me. The fear of losing another person I love or have them be used against me is a pain I'm not sure I can bear. But you--you deserve better than my fears. You are the light to my darkness, my reason for living. I can't stand the thought of you believing I think less of you, not when I would burn the world down to keep you safe."

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?" you whispered, a glimmer of hope sparkling in your voice.

Dean took a step towards you. "If you think I'm telling you that I've been in love with you for years, that I love every single part of you inside and out, that I don't want you to change a single thing, that I think you're perfect...then yes."

You exhaled sharply, breathing ragged as you stared into his soulful green eyes.

He crossed the short distance between you and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you flush against his body, not caring about the sweat staining your body.

He practically crushed you against him, holding on more tightly than you'd ever imagined he would. After several moments, he loosened his grip on you so he could gaze down into your eyes. A small, lopsided smile graced his lips and his eyes fluttered shut. As his lips grazed against yours, you sighed softly, causing him to immediately deepen the kiss.

His hands dug into your soft flesh, seemingly reveling in the feeling of your body in his arms. His kiss was everything you'd imagined it would be and so much more--you felt safe, loved, and cherished. You didn't know you could have those feelings from a single kiss, but here you were, drowning in emotion, his love the life raft saving you from darkness.

When you finally parted, Dean rested his forehead against yours. "Do you believe me, (Y/N)? Can you see how much I love you? How badly I need you?"

"Yes," you breathed. "I believe you."

He sighed happily, breath mingling with yours. "Will you let me show you?"

You pulled away from him slightly so you could see his face better.

His eyes were dark with hunger, his gaze almost predatory. If you didn't know him, you would be frightened.

"Let me show you, sweetheart," he begged softly, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. "Let me show you how much I love your body--how badly I've wanted to touch it, mark it, make it mine. Let me touch every curve, kiss every scar--bite and lick and suck every pleasure point until you're a moaning mess in my arms. Let me make love to you the way you deserve."

No man had ever spoken to you like that, and you felt your toes curl at his words. If he could spark your body alive with nothing but words, you wondered what he was capable of doing with his body.

Your breathing was labored and your voice husky as you murmured, "How could I ever say no?"

Dean smirked and he tugged you to him again, lips crashing against yours. You felt his hands all over your body, clutching any part of you he could reach. His mouth left yours, lips trailing down your neck, nipping and sucking gently against the sensitive skin. He licked the column of your throat and groaned softly, muttering "salty" in a devilishly sexy voice.

You pulled away, suddenly remembering what you'd been doing when Dean interrupted you. "Wait--I-I need to shower first."

Dean groaned in annoyance. "No you don't."

You started to peel him off you with a light chuckle. "Yes, I do. I feel gross."

He pouted adorably. "For the record, I would make love to you on the sparing mat, right here, right now."

You laughed. "As hot as that might be, I really want to shower...I'll even let you join me." You shot him a wink and ran toward the door.

He realized what you'd said and turned to run after you, chasing you all the way to the showers. You giggled when he caught you, tugging you to him to kiss at your exposed neck and shoulders.

"Shower!" you squealed.

He groaned. "Fine, fine."

He practically dragged you into the bathroom, turning away from you to turn on the water before tugging you into the shower with him.

"Dean, our clothes--"

"They'll dry," he grumbled, fingers tugging on your shirt to lift it over your head.

You allowed him to remove it, neither of you paying attention to where it landed as he tossed it out of the shower. He did the same with his own shirt and jeans, followed by your leggings.

He spun you around, so your back was pressed against the cold tile, water spraying across your chest. He unzipped your sports bra and you allowed it to fall to the ground, revealing your heavy breasts to his wanton eyes.

"Fuuuuck," he groaned, lips attaching to your pert nipple.

You ran your hands through his hair as he continued his gentle assault on your breasts. His lips didn't leave your chest, even as his hands trailed down to slowly peel off your underwear.

He slipped two fingers between your folds, collecting your slick and pressing firmly against your clit. You moaned softly at the sensation, head falling back against the tile.

He removed his fingers, slipping them between his lips and sucking them dry. "I need more," he murmured hungrily.

He dropped to his knees and grabbed your right leg, slinging it over his shoulder before you could utter a word. You started to complain that you needed to wash the sweat off first, but he ignored you, tongue sweeping between your folds without a care.

Any protests you may have had were lost as he worked his magic on your pussy. Your fingers twisted into his short hair, head back, mouth open, drowning in the pleasure he was giving you. You were thankful for the tile you leaned against and his strong arms holding you in place as he feasted on you.

Your legs began to shake and you cried out his name seconds before your orgasm hit you, sending you spiraling into bliss. Dean didn't want to stop, but your hands weakly tugged on his hair and your legs began to buckle, so he pulled himself up to keep you from falling.

"Delicious," he whispered against your mouth as he pressed another kiss to your lips.

You wrapped your arms around his neck to hold him closer to you and he shifted to press his body tightly against yours. You gasped as his still clothed member brushed against your thigh and your hands instantly slid down his body to rid him of the annoying fabric.

"Wanna touch you," you begged softly.

He groaned, but pulled away from your reach.

"Dean," you whined.

"Shh, let me wash you first," he insisted.

"But--"

He cut you off with a kiss. "Let me worship you before you touch me--I wanna make this about you."

Your expression softened and you leaned into him. "I love you, Dean."

Your voice was a low whisper, but he heard it all the same. You hadn't said the words earlier, a fact he had been trying to ignore. Hearing you say them now nearly had him throwing all his plans for the next week out the window--wanting to do nothing more than worship you from dusk to dawn for the foreseeable future.

"Dean?" you whispered warily, concern filling your eyes.

He used all his self-control to push his own needs and wants aside. "I heard you, baby," he assured you. "I heard you."

His kiss was gentler this time, sweeter even, and it warmed your body from the inside out. He broke away, panting, a whispered "I love you" pressed into your skin as he made his way down your body and back up again.

After what felt like an eternity, he grabbed the shower gel and loofa and slowly began to lather you up, washing your body in a surprisingly sensual way. When he finally decided you were clean, he helped you under the spray and made sure all the suds were rinsed off.

"Can I touch you now?" you begged.

He smiled warmly. "I suppose I can allow it." He forced his voice to be steady and calm, despite the desire screaming inside of him--begging him to take you well and properly.

You sunk to your knees, gaze lifting to meet his. You gave him a shy smile before taking his cock in your soft hands. He was larger than average, but you weren't afraid of the pain. Instead, you focused on giving him the same intense pleasure he had given you.

When you wrapped your lips around his cock, his head fell back and a groan escaped his parted lips. His fingers danced across your scalp, gathering your hair to one side so he could see you properly.

"Shit, sweetheart," he mumbled. "You're taking me so well."

You moaned around him, pleased with the praise he offered you. You continued to work him, using your tongue to caress and tease him in ways he'd never experienced before.

He wasn't at all surprised by your skill, but he was surprised by how damn good it felt. Sure, it had been a while for him, but he couldn't remember the last time he'd gotten a blow job that made his knees weak--if ever.

"Shit, baby," he whispered. "I'm so close--gonna cum for you."

His fingers raked through your wet hair and he used his other hand to lean against the tiles behind you. His hips jutted forward slightly as you relaxed your throat, taking him as far back as you could.

You flattened your tongue against his cock and flexed it, repeating the motion a few times before Dean's grip on your hair became painful and he exploded into your throat with a cry of your name.

You swallowed everything he had to give you, not releasing him from your lips until he pulled away, forcing the two of you to separate.

Dean leaned back against the shower wall and pulled you towards him, trying to support his weak legs while also helping you up. Once you were on your feet, he tugged you into him and placed a feverish kiss to your lips.

He panted heavily when he finally released you from his tight grip, allowing you to suck in some much needed air.

"Where did you learn how to do that thing with your tongue?" he asked in a hoarse voice.

You smirked. "It's a natural talent."

He grinned. "Well I fucking love it."

You laughed and leaned back into him, capturing his lips in a sweeter kiss. "So what are your thoughts on continuing this elsewhere?"

"Well my plan was to make you moan my name for the next several hours...I don't care where we go, as long as you're willing to let me ruin you."

Your thighs clenched together involuntarily and you moaned softly, biting into your bottom lip to keep the sound from being too loud. "My room?"

"My room is closer," he murmured into your shoulder.

You smiled and backed away from him, causing him to pout. You turned the water off and continued to back out of the shower. You grabbed a towel and wrapped it around yourself, which only served to upset Dean.

"What do you think you're doing?" he growled.

Your eyes widened. "Putting on a towel so we can go to your room..."

"Did I say you could hide your body from me?" His tone was shockingly dominant and a spark of need went straight to your core.

"No," you whispered.

"I didn't think so." He stepped forward, dominance oozing from every pore in his body. "Drop the towel. Now."

You gasped softly, but heeded his command. The towel fell to the floor and he took yet another predatory step in your direction.

"Don't you ever hide yourself from me again. I wanna see every inch of your body." His hands grabbed at your hips roughly, tugging you towards him forcefully. "You're mine, do you understand me? Mine."

While the idea of someone owning you would normally piss you off, in this context it was a shocking turn-on. You swallowed thickly as you stared up into his heated gaze, suddenly unable to move, or even breathe.

He leaned down to kiss along your jaw towards your ear. He breathed slowly against your skin, causing you to shiver and clutch his arms for support. "Is this okay?" he whispered, voice still gruff, but much more loving.

You nodded, not trusting yourself to form actual words.

"Baby, I need you to tell me with your words. I need you to say whether this is okay or not. I don't wanna do something you're not into."

You turned your head a little so you could see his bright green eyes. The look in his eyes was reflected in your own and there was no doubt or fear in your voice when you answered him. "I'm very into it."

Your reassurance was all he needed to fall back into the dominant role. "Then you'd better get your ass into my bed before we have a problem."

You turned to open the door, yelping slightly when his hand smacked your ass. You shot him a surprised look and he looked slightly sheepish.

"Sorry, baby...I couldn't resist. You've got a great ass."

You smirked at the compliment and gave him a little wiggle before rushing into the hallway and making a beeline for his bedroom door.

He was surprised by your teasing action, but it only made him smile. He chased after you, mumbling, "Oh you're in for it now, princess."

You giggled as you landed on his bed, crawling up towards the headboard as he came through the doorway. He shut the door behind him and stalked to the edge of the bed, fiery gaze locked on you.

"It's unfair how sexy you look right now," he growled. "Makes me wanna fuck you senseless--make you scream my name until your voice is hoarse."

You gulped, trying to hide behind false bravado. "Are you going to do that from the other side of the room?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Don't be a brat."

"Why don't you come here and do something about it."

Dean practically jumped onto the bed, climbing on top of you and caging you beneath him in seconds. His cock was hard again, pressing against your thigh--a reminder of how badly he wanted you.

"Not so mouthy now are you?"

"Dean, I--"

"Hush," he murmured as he leaned down to kiss you. He shifted just enough so his cock brushed against your core, and you gasped into his mouth.

"How badly do you want me right now, (Y/N)?" he asked, voice rough with need.

"I've never wanted you more," you answered honestly.

He groaned lowly. "How do you want it? You want me to fuck you into this mattress or take it nice and slow?"

"Fuck me into the mattress," you begged softly. "Please."

"Jesus--I love when you beg for me," he growled.

"Fuck me, Dean," you pleaded. You weren't above begging, especially when it came to him.

Dean gripped his cock in his right hand and lined himself up with your entrance. He started to push in, trying to move slowly to avoid hurting you as much. "You're so fucking tight, baby," he whispered against your lips.

You gripped his biceps harshly, nails digging into his skin. The stretch was unbelievable, both painful and pleasurable all at once.

"You okay?" he whispered softly.

You nodded.

"Babe," he said in a warning tone.

"I'm okay--keep going."

He continued to push into you and your back arched as his cock brushed against your cervix. You whimpered at the feeling of fullness, and Dean struggled to remain motionless until you told him it was okay to move.

"I need you to move, Dean--please."

He pulled himself up slightly and started a very gentle pace, still allowing you time to adjust. The last thing he wanted was to make this painful or uncomfortable for you. He didn't give a damn about his enjoyment--all he wanted was to watch you fall apart over and over again.

"Your pussy feels incredible, baby," he groaned. "I could stay here forever."

He began to move more quickly and your breathing became more erratic as you reveled in the pleasure of the moment. Your moans were like music to his ears, spurring him on as he slid into you again.

"I love the sounds you're making, sweetheart. I wanna hear you."

He picked up his pace and shifted you into a new position so he could get even deeper inside you. You cried out as he hit your g-spot, pussy clamping down on his cock in response.

"Shit--" he groaned. "You're squeezing me so tight--taking my cock so fucking well, gorgeous."

Your back arched again and your head was tossed back, pressing into the pillows at the head of the bed. Your hands twisted in the sheets, unable to reach his arms or his back as he slammed into you repeatedly.

He knew you were close, but he wasn't ready to feel you cum yet. "Look at me, baby."

He waited until your hazy eyes met his.

"Don't cum until I tell you to, understand?"

Your eyes widened. "But, Dean--"

"Not until I give you permission," he said firmly.

You nodded rapidly, not wanting to risk your orgasm altogether.

"Good girl."

You moaned loudly and your pussy clenched tightly around his cock, causing him to echo the sound.

"Fuck, baby," he groaned. "You like it when I praise you, huh? You wanna hear about how much I love this pussy? How I've been thinking about fucking you for years? How I've craved your body?"

You were practically breathless beneath him, unable to formulate a response or even acknowledge his words.

"Your pussy is fucking perfect," he continued. "Made for me. And this body? Gorgeous and soft and fucking delicious. Can't believe I get to touch you like this--make you feel so good."

"Dean, please," you begged breathlessly.

"Not yet, sweetheart."

You whimpered, but continued to focus on staving off your impending orgasm.

"Who owns this pussy, baby?"

You didn't answer--too focused on not cumming until he gave you permission.

His grip on your legs tightened, bringing your attention back to him. "That's it, pretty girl, look at me. Tell me who owns this pussy."

"You," you gasped out.

"That's right. This pussy is mine. I'm the only one who gets to touch you like this--make you moan and whimper and scream. No one else."

"Only you," you cried.

"Fuck--" His breathing had become ragged and he had begun to struggle to keep himself from orgasming.

"Please," you whimpered.

"Please what, baby?"

"Let me cum!" you begged.

Dean decided to take pity on you. "Cum for me, baby."

"Dean!" you screamed as your orgasm ripped through you. The pleasure so white hot and blinding you nearly blacked out.

Dean helped you ride out the waves of pleasure before lowering himself back down to hover over you. He placed soft kisses to your heated skin and whispered, "You're so damn beautiful when you cum."

You were gulping down mouthfuls of air, but you heard his whispered words. "I love you," you murmured.

He groaned softly. "Love you more."

He picked his pace back up, intent on giving you another orgasm before allowing himself to cum.

It didn't take long for him to work you back up, letting you hang on the precipice of blissful pleasure once more.

"You feel so good beneath me, baby. I love watching your pretty face as you fall apart. I just can't get enough of you," he admitted.

Your nails dug into his back, indicating you also couldn't get enough of him. "Dean, I need more," you pleaded.

"Touch yourself for me, baby. I want you to cum before I fill you up."

You lowered your hand down and slipped it between your bodies. You found your clit with ease and began to gently toy with it, sending pulses of toe curling pleasure up your spine.

"Fuck, yes. That's it baby. God, this pussy is addicting...don't ever wanna stop."

"So close," you whimpered.

"Yeah, sweetheart? You wanna cum?"

"Please, Dean."

"How badly?"

"Dean," you whined.

"Be a good girl and tell me how badly you wanna cum for me and maybe I'll let you."

"Please-please-please," you begged. "I wanna cum so bad. I need to cum, Dean, please!"

As much as he loved prolonging your orgasm, he couldn't bear saying no to you. "Cum for me, sweetness," he whispered into your ear.

Your body began to shake as the dam broke once again. You cried out as the pleasure invaded all of your senses, overwhelming you completely.

Dean began to chase his own high, desperately needing to fill you up with his seed. "You're the only woman who makes me lose control," he whispered into your skin.

You were surprised by his words, but they warmed your heart. Dean wasn't the kind of man to lose control often, so the fact that you made him do so was a massive ego boost.

"I wanna feel you fill me up, Dean," you murmured. "Need your cum inside me."

"Fuck," he growled, teeth grazing your pulse point.

His hips began to stutter as he reached his peak. Your nails scraped along his back, giving him the last push he needed to fall over the edge. He came with a guttural growl of your name, ropes of hot cum filling your pussy.

His arms started to feel weak as his orgasm came to an end, and he collapsed on top of you, crushing you beneath his larger frame. You couldn't have been bothered to care if he'd literally smothered you--you were too fucked out to form coherent thoughts.

After a while, Dean managed to pull himself off of you, only to collapse on the bed beside you. He reached for you, strong arms wrapping around your waist to tug you into his chest.

"You're so damn incredible, (Y/N/N)," he whispered into your shoulder, lips pressing soft kisses there. "I don't think I've ever cum that hard--and you managed to do it twice."

"I can't feel my legs and my head is fuzzy," you mumbled. "So I second all of that."

Dean chuckled softly and held you even tighter. "I love you," he murmured. "More than you'll ever know."

"I think I have some idea," you whispered back. "And I love you just as much."

Dean smiled, feeling truly happy for the first time in as long as he could remember. He knew he should get up, help you clean up and all that, but he couldn't get himself to move and you weren't complaining. In fact, your breathing had evened out and he had a feeling you'd be asleep soon.

He kissed your shoulder one more time before resting his head comfortably on the pillow, feeling more relaxed than he had in a while. Just as sleep threatened to claim him, he heard his brother's voice from the other side of the closed door.

"While I'm super happy for you both, I have one request. Next time the two of you decide to fuck each other's brains out, could you at least have the decency to wait until I'm gone? I can't un-hear any of that!"

You laughed lightly and you could feel Dean's laughter rumbling in his chest from behind you.

"We'll do our best," Dean called back. "But no promises! She's simply too hot to resist--you never know when I'll get the urge to ravish her."

You laughed even harder, but you reached behind you to lovingly smack his hip.

"Ohh gross, dude!" Sam grumbled before walking away, leaving the two of you alone again.

"You're so bad, Dean Winchester."

"I didn't hear you complaining when I was making your legs shake ten minutes ago."

You tossed him a grin over your shoulder. "I didn't say it was a bad thing."

He matched your grin. "Touché, my love. Touché."

#dean winchester #dean winchester smut #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x reader smut #supernatural #supernatural smut #dean winchester x plus size!reader smut #dean winchester x plus size reader

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titaswrld · 4 months ago

Note

I have a request for a deadpool fic, if you could make a very angsty story where deadpool thinks he is undeserving of love and never thinks someone in this world would fall for him 😭 he is self-conscious about his looks and never in his right mind it crossed him that he has a chance with the reader, but he would do anything just to feel loved. he's just a constantly depressed ball of sadness, and the only way he copes with his thoughts is his dark humor. while the reader is head over heels for that man, and she's showering him in love, but he only thinks it's because they're friends 😭🫶🏼

monster

description: wade wilson being insecure about his looks, not knowing if the girl he loves would ever love him back.

paring: wade wilson x reader!

contains: angst! with happy ending (i didn’t know how to end it😭)

w.c: 1.2k

|an: finally writing forreals again! i needed to get back into it. thank u for ur request, i hope u like it😇 reader is a baker bc i couldn’t think of a more wholesome career path😭

you’ve known your best friend, wade wilson, for almost a year now. starting off as just occasional friends, hanging out at each other's apartments, watching chick flicks, and eating your weight in junk food until your friendship grew into something deeper, feeling nothing but love and admiration for another and the desire to be something more.

he’s so in love with you; he knows that now. he tried to deny it; he tried telling himself there’s no way, there’s absolutely no way a woman as intelligent, as confident, and as kind as you could ever love a monster like him. He knew you deserved better—a handsome, young, intelligent accountant or something.

his field of work is dangerous; he knows that. killing random people he doesn’t even know for cash. large sums of cash, sure. but, nonetheless, killing. he honestly always found it humorous, a trained marksman, mercenary, and vigilante , with his super cool awesome, still in school to become a pâtissière best friend!

he knew you’d leave; he knew no human being on planet earth could bear even looking at his rough, bumpy skin. that’s why he’s yet to show you his face, never failing to wear his mask around you, even though you’ve known each other for so long now. he didn’t know why you were still around after all this time even with the mask on, he knew most people found him to be annoying, aggravating, and just an all around piece of shit person, but for some reason, you liked him, and you enjoyed being around him.

he’s never had someone so close to him, as you are with him. you’re so kind, so affectionate, and so touchy. he thinks it’s just pity, you’d never think of him as anything more than a friend.

he dreamt of being the man who loved you the rest of your life; he wished that he could fall asleep and wake up to your face every day, make you laugh every day, eat every meal with you, watch every movie and every show, spend every holiday together, fuck, even start a family. he craved you. he craved your love, your care, and your kindness; he wanted to be normal with you, but he’s not normal, far from it. he knew better than that. he knew he didn’t deserve that. he would never be the man that you love.

he’s not ready to let you go, but he can’t keep his feelings for you inside any longer. he honestly dug himself into an even deeper hole, choosing to come over almost every free night he had. he couldn’t stay away from you; he hated being away from you. during every mission and every fight, all he thought about was coming home to you. you’re the only person who truly understood him for the man that he is, and he loves you for that. he’s never opened up to anybody the way that he’d opened up to you. you were special, so special to him. he was terrified.

you felt hopeless, stupid, and desperate. every advance you made, you’d failed. from baking him his favorite treats, to holding his hand while you watched a movie on the couch, to giving him hugs that lasted a little longer than necessary after a long mission, you couldn’t get your best friend out of your mind, not if you tried. hou crave him, his love, his care, his stupid fucking jokes that never end, his sarcastic nature, his sass—you don’t think you have ever loved a man the way that you love wade.

sometimes, he made you think that he might like you back, that he might have some sort of romantic interest in you, but it was quickly shut down after he made a joke, basically telling you that it would never happen.

you and wade were sitting on the couch, just talking, telling stories, and catching up after a particularly long time apart. until you had thought of a statement, that could’ve told you whether or not wade may or may not feel the same way.

your best friend, mia, had mistaken you and wade for a couple while on the phone. when you denied her statement, she apologized, saying she’s sorry for assuming, but you did spend all your time together..

when you told wade what she said, he doubled down in laughter before spitting out, “you? me? never. who is this friend? have i met her? has she seen me before? you might need to get her 5150’d.”

which did shatter your heart into a million pieces, but nonetheless, it wouldn’t stop you from trying to show him how much you care, how much you want to be with him, and how much you want to love him. he deserved love, and you wanted to give it to him.

each time he made a self-deprecating joke, it broke your heart. it was torture for you. the most he would ever do is lift his mask slightly when he ate with you, only to pop a piece of food in his mouth, then sheathe his face with his mask once again to chew, repeating the process until he’d finished. but even then, you never looked out of respect.

there were multiple occasions where you could’ve snuck a peek, where you could’ve turned around and saw his full face, but you knew how genuinely insecure he felt and how scared he was for you to see his face, so you never looked, not wanting to betray his trust or make him uncomfortable. you loved him, and you wish he understood that absolutely nothing could change that. especially not the way he looks.

today, you were sat on your couch, waiting for him to arrive. He said he’d be over tonight for the usual—rom-coms and junk food. but today, you felt different, your balls finally dropped, and you were ready to admit how you felt, whether it was a good or bad outcome, you were ready.

every single worst-case scenario clouded your thoughts, making your palms sweaty and causing a deep ache in your chest until you heard a knock at your door, saving you from plummeting even farther into your head.

you open the door, and time feels slow motion. you didn’t see deadpool; you saw wade for the first time- the real wade. standing there with an anxious expression plastered across his mottled face, snacks in one hand and flowers ripped from the dirt outside of your apartment complex in the other.

your stomach dropped along with your expression, the shock stunning you into place as you began to gather your thoughts. this is what he was hiding, you thought. jesus christ, all of that trouble for this? you could almost hit him.

wade, on the other hand, paced in your hallway, back and forth for 15 minutes before this, trying to decide whether he should just bail and leave the fucking country or finally stop being pussy and just show you his goddamn face.

after seeing your initial reaction, his head dropped, his gaze on the floor, as he muttered, “i know. total freak show, right? freddy kruger? craterface? cmon, lay it on me.”

now was your chance, as you cupped his face with your hands and pressed your soft lips against his dry, cracked ones. you felt his tense muscles drop and relax as he melted into the kiss, relishing in the feeling and making sure it was real, too.

you’d pulled away, looking him in the eyes and flashing a smile his way before placing kisses all over his cheeks, forehead, nose, and chin.

your gaze fell across his face once again, this time meeting you with a shit-eating grin plastered across his face.

“so— ten things i hate about you, or steel magnolias?”

#deadpool x you #deadpool x reader #deadpool #wade wilson #wade winston wilson #wade wilson x reader #deadpool angst #wade wilson angst #deadpool and wolverine #ryan reynolds

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teratosfavouritesnack · 5 months ago

Text

~Wet for the Doctor~

gynecologist!lizard man x fem!human - medical kink, dub-con (is it?), gyno exam, vaginal fingering, finger fucking, multiple orgasms, soft dom/sub power dynamic, monster with human kink

You've been missing your doctor so much that you come up with a dumb excuse just so you can see him again.

3,7k.

The chill, comfortable aura of the clinic wasn't really helping soothe your nerves; your thighs were twitching and your hands sweating even more than usual. You pressed your palms on the fabric of your dress, attempting to stop your legs from shaking and wipe your skin.

You weren't scared. On the contrary, you were excited. Your jitters weren't caused by apprehension but rather by... anticipation.

Yes, anticipation. You had been waiting for this day. You had called in, asking for an appointment way before your routine check-up because you had been missing him terribly.

It was a wicked attraction. Deplorable even. You couldn’t help it, though. Just thinking of him made your whole body tingle in elation. You couldn’t control it. You couldn’t fight against it, no matter how much your mind implored you to.

“-see you in three months. If the issue resurfaces in the meantime, call me immediately so we can reschedule our appointment.”

You could hear a muffled but very familiar voice coming from behind the door. You squeezed your thighs, squirming on your seat, seeking out relief from the ache between your legs. You had been on the edge since you woke up in the morning, tensed up and wet even before you left your house to head to the clinic after lunch. The moment you’d see him again was getting closer and your body was growing restless. It was as if it ached for him, longed for his touch. Only he could give it solace.

The sound of steps grew closer. Your eyes were already locked on the door as it swung open, seeking to lay upon the source of all your sinful thoughts. A tall and lean elf woman stepped outside, lingering by the doorway, blocking your view of the room. Your jaw clenched upon seeing the saccharine smile plastered on her chiseled face.

“Thank you dr. Duskcale. I wish you good work. May Lady Arassea watch over you.”

“Ah- Thank you. Take care.”

You were burning holes into her skull, mentally ordering her to leave and you didn’t avert your gaze from her until you saw her walk away and disappear behind the corner. It was ridiculous to feel jealous over someone you had no right to lay any claim to, someone who had to deal and take care of plenty of people’s needs on a daily basis, as his job requested. Many people like you. Yet, it made your stomach churn to think that anybody else beside you could harbor similar sympathies for your doctor. In your mind you were… special. You were different. His behavior towards you implied so, you were sure.

“Y/N.”

His voice startled you. Your head instantly snapped towards the door and there you saw him, standing in all his imposing height, the white coat hanging open from his broad shoulders, its pristine color a stark contrast to the teal blue shade of his skin. His long scaly tail was resting heavy on the floor beside him, with just the tip raised from the ground, swaying gently in your direction. Your chest fluttered the moment your eyes met his and you noticed the small smile grazing his reptilian features. Frustration left your body at once, jealousy leaving room for gratification as he gave you yet another confirmation to your thoughts; you were the only one he would welcome in himself instead of sending his assistant. That had to mean something.

“You may come in.”

You nodded and followed him into his office. Your hair stood on end, feeling his almond bright eyes trained on your back. When you turned your head to look at him, his gaze was indeed traveling over your body, pupils dilating and contracting in that odd way that you had grown very fond of. You had heard reptilians had a superior vision than humans and most other creatures, some could even see infrared rays… You prayed the latter wasn’t the case for your doctor, otherwise he would be able to see how hot your blood boiled under his gaze. How incredibly warm he always made you feel.

“Such a beautiful dress you’re wearing today. It suits you perfectly.”

A bashful smile took form on your lips just like every time he complimented you and your appearance. No matter how many times he did it before - at least once during each appointment - he’d always take you by surprise. Perhaps it was his way as a doctor to create a more friendly and easy going environment for the patient, or perhaps it was something he did only with you. You preferred to think it was the latter.

“Thank you… doctor.”

He had encouraged you to call him by his first name after only a few visits, but you preferred to use his title since you enjoyed watching him adjust his coat on his large body and give you a long look every time that word left your lips.

“Please, remove your underwear and lie on the table.”

And perhaps he enjoyed how he was always able to affect you with that routine request. His keen vibrant eyes remained on you until you nodded and moved behind the room divider to undress.

You hurriedly removed your shoes and folded your soaking undies on the chair before returning to the center of the room. You tried not to pay too much attention to the cool air of the office meeting the dampness between your thighs. Your motions were rapid, almost hurried, yet sure as you hopped onto the table and laid on your back, shifting your body to find the most comfortable position. He approached you just as you were about to settle your feet on the footrests, his large rough palms gently wrapping around your calves to assist you. Your body buzzed with a wicked thrill as you watched him delicately roll the dress over your tummy to get it out of the way.

“There you go.” he whispered with that warm gentle voice of his, and you almost went into ruptures. Even with only a few simple words he could have you melting into a puddle at his feet. You were truly and utterly infatuated.

At that point it was impossible not to focus on the humid air touching your damp folds, spread out as you were in front of him, nor at any slight brush of his coat against your skin. He could even as much as exhale in your direction and your body would shiver in response.

You locked eyes with him as he rested his hand on your thigh and squeezed it softly, almost affectionately one would say - it certainly felt like that to you. Your walls instantly fluttered at the contact.

“So… What’s the matter? Something must have come up for you to take a new appointment before our routine checkup in three months.” There was a hint of concern in his tone as he said that, as well as in his gaze as he let it sweep your exposed pussy. He took a seat between your legs and his pupils started to do that weird thing again while he carried out the general pelvic examination. “I don’t see any changes from last time…”

As soon as his fingers made contact with your folds, your legs jolted and he halted his ministrations to look at you. Even from a seated position he towered over you so you could easily watch as his face scrunched up in a soft frown.

“Do you feel any pain?”

“Y-Yes… Well, no… Not exactly-”

His puzzled expression told you it was time to provide him with an explanation. It was time to reveal the ridiculous lie you had made up simply to have an excuse for seeing him again. When you went over it at home in the days leading up to the appointment, you didn't feel as silly and embarrassed as you did now that you stood - well, laid - in front of him. Despite how dumb you felt however, you couldn't avoid it.

"I recently started to see someone…a-a werewolf." you blurted out and instantly felt your stomach clench as you watched his eyes narrow. Did he… not like that? You had only seen him look that pensive, maybe even irritated, when he had to postpone one of your previous visits because his agenda was too full. He didn’t say anything about it though, so you cleared your throat and resumed with your lie. “He is very… uhm… endowed. Perhaps too much for me… So I'm afraid we can't… uhm-”

He hummed thoughtfully. His eyes were scanning your face now, peering at you as if he could see right through your blatant lie. Were you so easy to read? Or did he actually have some crazy eyesight abilities?

“Did you have intercourse with this… werewolf?”

You should have expected such a question, yet it caught you off guard, almost making you jump. One of his hands promptly moved to your upper thigh to knead your flesh as if wishing to ease your tension.

“I need to know in order to proceed.” he pointed out, his tone gentle and nurturing. “I’ve had many a patient who had very unfortunate encounters with such creatures. Werewolves tend to lose all lucidity when sexually aroused, especially when in heat. I should hope this wasn’t your case-”

“Oh, no no-! I-It wasn’t like that… Nothing really bad happened..”

“Well, that’s good to hear. But I still need you to answer.”

You nodded and bit your lip as you held his intense gaze.

"I did." you replied, watching his face harden. "B-But it didn't feel good so we stopped almost immediately!" You rushed to add, hoping that instead would please him.

You were mentally face-palming yourself at what you were saying. You hadn't really thought this through, you realized; you hadn't considered how nervous you'd be in his presence. Making up a lie was easy, saying it to his face was a completely different matter.

He was not pleased with that information, at all. He exhaled heavily, as if disappointed by what he had heard, and his gaze landed on your genitals once more. He stroked his fingers across the flesh of your inner thigh a few times before raising his thumb and slowly trailing it over your labia in a circular motion and then along your slit. His palm still resting on your thigh eased your instant tremors.

"He must not have had much experience if he couldn't manage to please you. He may not have prepped you adequately or at all... Inconsiderate, selfish beast."

The gruff note in his tone was something you'd never heard before, but it rivaled his typically sweet and gentle voice in the way it made your stomach twist and your body heat up. It's possible you made a mistake by bringing up a werewolf since he seemed to have a quarrel with those creatures, or perhaps that could ultimately work to your benefit...

"It's not your fault," he said, eager to comfort you, sounding like himself again. That honeyed voice of his and the following flick of his thumb on your clitoris had your butterflies fluttering. "You are healthy. There is absolutely nothing wrong with you.”

Your breath hitched as you felt the enlarged tip of his finger probe at your wet entrance, teasing contact that sent you quivering in anticipation. You gulped in a poor attempt to pace yourself.

“However, I do need to carry out a vaginal examination just to make sure he didn’t cause any damage.”

He looked back at you, eyes silently asking for your approval. Only when you meekly nodded did he move his free hand to rest upon your lower abdomen and turned the other palm-up as he slowly placed one finger inside your hole. It slid in quite easily - given how slick you were at that point - despite being at least two sizes bigger than a human finger.

You shuddered and turned your head to the side, making an effort to focus on anything besides him so as to release your muscles and delay the inevitable, which you sensed was already on its way.

Your wandering gaze landed on the tools on the nearby table: a speculum and other strange-looking metallic objects he had never used on you before. There were also lube and gloves. He had never used those either. You were always ready for his examinations, and lubrication would be wasted on you. And the gloves… You had seen him take them off when the patients before you would head out but he never, not once, put on a new pair for you.

He had given you an explanation at one point, as if picking up on your curiosity, stating that the large tips of his fingers were particularly sensitive to touch and could better detect irregularities when there was no layer between them and the surface being examined. His words made reasonable sense, although they didn't exactly explain why he wouldn't wear gloves for you, specifically. From that point on, you had more than once entertained the possibility that he actually enjoyed touching you with his bare hands…

You did now as well, that wicked thought redirecting your attention back to the finger exploring your channel and the friction caused by its scaly, bumpy texture rubbing against your sensitive walls. That rendered all of your efforts futile. You stiffened even more, unable to focus on anything other than the way it curled into your g-spot, hitting it insistently and expertly, until an orgasm crashed into you just a couple of seconds later.

You tried as hard as you could to mask it, sealing your jaw, stilling your tremors, gripping the edges of the table with your hands as hard as you could, but he could definitely feel you fluttering and gushing juices around him. You didn't look up, too embarrassed to meet his gaze, but you felt his palm fondly rub your tummy, which combined with the overstimulation, made it even more difficult for you to remain silent. You had to gnaw on the inside of your cheeks to muffle your moans, nearly to the point of bruising yourself.

If he sensed your orgasm, he said nothing about it as he kept on rubbing your throbbing walls. With your hole even more slick than before, he added another finger to the examination and pushed them both all the way to your cervix, curling them to reach that tender spot with his large fingertips. Your lips parted in a muted cry and your hand promptly rushed to cover your mouth.

“Do you feel any pain?”

He knew you felt no pain, he knew for certain but he still played the part, maybe because it aroused him just as much as it aroused you.

You hastily shook your head in response, your gaze returning to him to chance a look. You regretted it immediately. He was already staring at you, probably relishing your blushing and contorting face or perhaps even your stiffened nipples showing beneath the fabric of your dress. He seemed to have been waiting for you to look at him because the instant he had your attention, he stood up, opening your legs even wider, and pushed a third finger into you, forcing you to bite your lips to conceal a lewd whimper.

“He hurt you, didn’t he?”

You were too overwhelmed by the warmth and shivers rushing through you and forcing slick to gush from your hole to understand what he was referring to and so you simply nodded your head.

His face hardened again but the motion of his fingers didn’t falter. It remained slow, careful yet precise and deliberate. A touch that only someone like him could offer. A touch that would make anyone lose their right minds. It certainly made you lose yours.

You were totally unprepared when he inserted a fourth thick finger inside you, and you could not hold back a cry this time, nor stop your back from arching away from the table or your sock-clad feet to curl and fight against the footrests. The huge palm on your belly pressed gently but firmly into your soft flesh, pushing you back down onto the surface.

"It's okay… It's okay.” he crooned. “You’re a bit tight. Please, try to release your muscles… It will be easier.”

Release your muscles? You had barely any control over your body at that stage but you mindlessly obeyed, only to tense up all over again when you felt another finger probe at your entrance, meeting resistance. This time, he rushed to your aid by pressing his other thumb against your clitoris. The additional stimulation of its pad tapping and rubbing tight circles over your pulsing bundle of nerves did the trick and his fifth finger promptly slid in, filling you up so perfectly as if it had a place within you designed specifically for it.

“Mmm… Good. Very good."

The stretch was so insane, it took your breath away. You had his whole hand inside you. A hand that could easily exceed the huge girth of any werewolf’s cock, was moving in and out of you, fucking you leisurely, its fingers curling when deep inside your walls and hitting your cervix every damn time. You would have been trashing if he didn’t hold you still with his other palm resting on your hips, a palm that covered the whole expanse of your stomach. Even only the sight of it could make your insides melt in wicked pleasure and the thought that its exact twin was now buried inside you had your brain turn to mush.

“Is everything ok, sweetheart?”

You gasped, your eyes widened in shock and locked on him. He had never called you like that before. The sound of his lovely, warm voice addressing you in such an affectionate manner caused you to short-circuit. You watched, dumb and panting heavily, as his free hand stroked your belly and traveled possessively up your stomach, even past the rolled hem of your dress, nearly touching the swell of your breasts before trailing back down to settle on your lower abdomen in an intimate and protecting grip. His thumb came to contact with your swollen bud again, and you barely had time to register the knot snapping in your belly before your body began to spasm violently and your vision went white. Waves and waves of pleasure overwhelmed you, triggering every nerve in your system to send electric shocks to course through your body.

His fingers continued to move inside you, slower than before, guiding you through the aftershock, while his other hand tenderly caressed your tummy, providing a comforting touch that helped you ground yourself.

"That was such a... good response." He said and you thought you heard his voice crack through the haze clouding your mind.

His cool palm settled on your cheek, fingers wiping the drool of saliva rolling off your lip. You struggled to focus your vision back on him, your heavy-lidded eyes fluttered open and closed a couple times before you managed to fix your gaze back on his face.

"Did he stretch you out like I've just done? Did anyone ever do it?"

You lazily shook your head, chest heaving hard, gaze still hazy. A low threatening rumble reached your muffled ears but it was gone before you could pinpoint what it was.

"That's very unfortunate. I'm sorry you had to encounter such miserable individuals."

His fingers finally slid out of you with a lewd squelching sound that made your walls flutter and your face redden. His eyes were trained on your slick cunt, fingertips gently dragging along the slit, smearing your juices from your hole to your clitoris and back, causing you to jerk at each touch.

"Some beasts shouldn't be allowed to be intimate with anybody." he grumbled, eyes attentively following the movement of his fingers against you. "Especially not with creatures so fragile...so precious…”

It looked like he was talking to himself rather than to you. His tone was so soft you could barely hear it but packed with emotion. His head bent down towards you as if attracted like a magnet, and his jaw parted to reveal his forked tongue. The tip flicked through the air with clear purpose...

Was he tasting your scent?

“You deserve so much better…”

His shocking words made your still tender body shudder and a gasp erupt from your lips. The sound seemed to break him out of whatever trance he'd fallen in. His eyes met yours, and the slit in his pupil narrowed so much to turn into a thin line. He drew back abruptly, as if he had caught himself upon doing something inappropriate. Turning to the adjacent steel table, he grabbed the paper towels and cleaned you with newfound self-control.

“I… need to see you again. Soon. As soon as possible.” He announced as he walked to his desk, discarding the dirty towels on the way. He sat and buried his smooth snout in his agenda, scanning over the pages with ever-growing irritation.

You still didn't feel completely like yourself as you eased down from the table and anchored your unsteady legs on the floor. Silently, you moved behind the divider with quick mindless steps and pulled your panties back on as well as your shoes.

When you came back out, he was standing in front of the desk, facing you and looking rather disappointed.

“We’ll have to see each other next week. Same day, same hour. I postponed some appointments but this is the best I could do.”

You simply nodded, unsure of what to say. You didn’t really trust your voice yet, anyway.

"I must ask you to abstain from attempting penetration again with that werewolf... or anybody else, if possible. Until I finish with your treatment."

You hadn’t the faintest idea what kind of treatment he was referring to but you didn’t dare ask. Whatever excuse he had for having you come over again worked for you. At least you didn't have to make up another stupid lie yourself.

His bright eyes seemed to pierce you, as though expecting your agreement, and you rushed to answer.

"I w-won't see anyone."

"...Good."

You both fell quite for a moment. Your gazes were locked but your mouths were sealed shut. Neither of you risked giving voice to your thoughts, nor acknowledge the obvious tension buzzing between you two.

He broke the silence first by clearing his throat.

“I hope you have a good week, Y/N. It's been… a pleasure to see you again.”

You took a long breath, hoping to ease your thundering heartbeat. Oh, you were hooked. Totally smitten with him… and whatever had happened only a couple minutes earlier made you believe that he had a soft spot for you, too.

“It's been a pleasure for me too… Adryan.”

🪷. You can leave me a tip on ko-fi if you want to support me ♡

Tagging: @strawberrypoundtown, @hikotaru, @theilluminatidragonqueen, @loveloveloveeee, @just-a-sewer-goblin, @h0n3y-l3m0n05 🖤

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written-in-flowers · 7 months ago

Text

His Darling: Demon!San x Fem!reader

Pairing: Incubus!San x Fem!Human!Reader | side pairing: yunho x reader, demonline x reader

Word Count: 10k

Genre: Smut (loads), slight angst MINORS DNI

Summary: San shows you his room and tells you exactly what he wants in a "housewife". He also shows you the benefits of keeping him happy.

Tags: enslavement, master/slave relationship, polyamorous relationship, demon!ateez, human!reader, stereotypical gender roles, gender norms, slight misogynistic ideals, mentions of domestic violence, childhood trauma, bigdick!san, incubus!san, breeding kink (serious one lol), thigh riding, voyeurism, handjob, dirty talking, light spanking, table sex, clothed man/naked woman, unprotected sex, vaginal sex, monster fucking, demon fucking, Yunho walks in on it and watches. You're their slave, and you're treated that way.

Previously on Pretty Pet > His Kitten: Seonghwa

***

“-What do we do? I've never handled a human slave before. What do they eat?”

“Food, I imagine.”

“Yes, but what? And what about her grooming? Has Wooyoung styled a human before?”

“No idea. All I know is what Yunho told me…”

You heard their voices above you, but you could not place them. A low groan escaped you as the aftermath of last night made itself known again. Every appendage felt sore and heavy, and your innards might have actually been rearranged. You almost did not comprehend your hunger until you'd completely woken up. Is this how you'd wake up every morning?

“Wake up,” a soft voice commanded. “We have a lot to do before you're presentable. Let's get moving.”

“Yeosang” the harder toned voice said, “Don't be so aggressive this early in the morning. She hasn't fully adjusted to this yet. She needs space to process.”

“Ugh, ‘space to process’. Yes, tell that to Yunho and see how that goes for you. He's already in a mood after having to bury that idiot slaver. Go ahead and tell him you diverted from his schedule.”

“That isn't what I meant-”

You finally opened your eyes to see two men on either side of your bed. Each of them wore black suits and had black upturned horns. One was significantly more petite and paler than the other. A red wine birthmark covered the side of his eye, contrasting with his fair skin. The other on the right was a round faced demon with dark brown hair. He carried an innocent, soft expression while his companion looked on sternly.

“Who are you?” You croaked through your strained throat.

They both finally acknowledged you. “Oh,” the dark haired demon grinned, “I'm Jongho.”

“And I'm Yeosang. We're your new handlers. Now, get up. We have to get you groomed before the Masters wake up.”

Yeosang turned and walked away to the tall double doors. Jongho stayed at your side, “Forgive him. They told him about you this morning, and he's been cranky ever since. He claims it ‘threw him off’.”

He pulled down the fluffy bed covers from you, revealing your naked body to the sunlit room. He acted as if he didn’t notice your nudity, and offered you his arm. This proved helpful since you didn't see the platform step and nearly tripped into his arms. Your legs and knees quaked weakly once you stood up, and you winced from the stinging between your legs.

“The only downside to good sex, huh?” He quipped, giving a knowing smile.

“Yeah.”

“Don't worry,” he picked up a thin, white chemise from a nearby chair, “The bath Master San prepared will help with that. He said a bit of soothing salt will take it away.” You lifted your arms for him to slip the chemise over you, “Let's get you washed up before Yeosang comes back whining again. You'll get used to his little tantrums soon enough,” he linked his arm with yours to help you walk properly, “Wrath demons can be so sensitive. I told him we should give you a minute to adjust and he was all ‘Yunho will get mad’. Ugh…”

You hadn't noticed the room last night, but now seeing it full of sunlight, you took in the splendor. White paneled walls inlaid with gold surrounded the room’s oak wood floors and went up high into the ceiling. You saw an oak vanity, a wardrobe cabinet, dresser and a desk around the room. It was a step up from the singular room in the bowels of the brothel. At least here you had privacy and fresh air through the tall windows.

Jongho brought you into a tiled room where a large bathtub sat in the very middle. White bubbles floated along the top of the steaming water, the soothing scent of lavender reaching your nose. You couldn’t remember the last time you had a proper bath; you usually did a quick wipe down to keep the fluids from crusting on your skin. Yeosang rolled over a small cart ladened with various tubs and bottles you only assumed were meant for bathing. Big eyes looked up to the fake horns still on your head, and he forced you down into a seat.

“These look ridiculous,” he huffed, peeking through the roots to see where the braiding kept it on your head. With expert fingers and a fine-toothed comb, he gradually began undoing them. “Good thing they didn’t use stronger glue. We might not have been able to remove these,” he said once he finished with one side. “Those city slavers are true scoundrels. I don’t blame Master San for slitting the man’s throat.”

“Oh dear,” Jongho frowned, “Had they glued on a tail?”

“Yes,” you nodded.

“Why?” asked Yeosang.

Jongho lifted your chemise to show the scabbed area. “I hope it doesn’t scar,” he said. “Master Seonghwa won’t like that.”

“Hm, doesn’t seem too bad to me,” Yeosang said, resuming his horn removal. “We’ll apply some ointments to avoid scarring and infection. Get the tub ready.”

When he removed the second “horn”, you breathed a sigh of relief. This did not last long because Yeosang and Jongho lifted the chemise off your body, and put you into the tub. Neither of them said anything as they went about the bathroom. Each of them took a side of the tub: Jongho dipped a soft cloth into the water to start cleaning your grimy skin while Yeosang squirted a pink substance into your hair.

“Who is Yunho?” you asked out of curiosity, watching Jongho begin washing between your fingers and under your nails.

“He’s the Head of House here,” said Yeosang, spreading the shampoo in your hair. “We all answer to him, including you.”

“I thought Hongjoong-”

“-Master Hongjoong, girl,” he said sternly, digging into your scalp. You didn’t know how he managed to scrub it, but he did. “They are your masters now; that is how you address them at all times. Even if they’re not in the room, you show your respect and gratitude. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“As I was saying,” he continued, pouring water into your hair with a cup and continuing to scrub more, “Yunho is the Head of House-”

“-He means the house staff-” Jongho explained.

“-And he’s in charge of anything having to do with the domestics in the house,” he said. “This includes kitchen and housekeeping duties. Now that the masters have a slave, you indirectly fall under his care. He will be your communication between the masters and you when they’re not present. Anything regarding you is taken directly to him, and he decides how to proceed from there.”

“Indirectly?”

“He’s our boss, technically,” Jongho said, starting to gently wipe at your neck, face and chest. “Yeosang is the Chief Handler, so he takes care of everything concerning you: grooming, training, and well being. I’m his assistant. Let’s say you fall ill, Yeosang takes care of getting to the doctor, medicine and other medical needs while I make sure you are as comfortable as possible.”

“You mentioned someone named Wooyoung?” you asked next, wiping water from your eyes when he finished.

“He’s a slave groomer,” Yeosang told you. He rinsed out your hair as best as he could, then decided a second wash was needed. You felt his fingers digging into your scalp as if doing so loosened the oils left there. You wanted to protest, but you felt that would be pointless. “He is the best. He’ll be in charge of your physical appearance and your wardrobe. Apparently, the masters demanded you have three separate wardrobes, but I imagine he’ll be handsomely paid for the work.”

“Are there other slaves here?”

“You mean, pleasure slaves like you?”

“Yes.”

“No. The Masters never bothered with pleasure slaves up until recently. They usually called on a brothel owner to bring his prettiest ones, and they’d have their fun with that. I guess having one pleasure slave is cheaper in the long run.”

“They’d mentioned something about making me into what they want,” you said. “I’m not sure what they meant by that.”

“Me neither,” Jongho mused, cleaning your legs and feet. “I suppose they are bored with the succubi the brothel people bring. A lot of them are trained in the same classical way, so perhaps they wanted something new?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Yeosang said, running a thin white liquid through your hair, “It’s not our place to question their motives.” The new shampoo stung your scalp, and you reached up to touch it before he swatted your hands away. “It’s a pest treatment.”

“I do not have pests!” you exclaimed in shock.

“Judging by how this is foaming in your hair, yes, you did,” he started running another comb over only the roots before loosening into the rest of your hair, “I don’t know how they bedded you last night. You’re filthy.”

“It’s not her fault, Yeosang,” Jongho came to your defense, rinsing the body wash off your skin. “Those lower class brothels are infested with disease and filth.”

“I am not dirt-”

“-Save it,” Yeosang cut you off. “As I said, the masters have their reasons and we have no right to question them.”

“But we can wildly speculate,” Jongho grinned. “She deserves to know why they chose her over a succubus or another type of demon. It must be confusing for her.”

“It can’t be that confusing. Why does it even matter? She is here now, and that’s it. End of story.”

“They never showed interest in the sinners outside of entertainment before.”

“Sex is another form of entertainment, Jongho.”

“Yes, but they usually mate with other demons, not humans. I’m only saying it is strange. Do you think they did it to spite Her?”

“Who?” you asked, squeezing your eyes as Yeosang rinsed the treatment out in a separate bucket. When he pulled you away, you saw all the dirt he’d removed.You gasped at the tiny dots floating in the water.

“Their mother,” Yeosang said, pulling you back in front of him. This time he slathered a mint-colored paste through your strands. “And no. In order to spite someone, you must actually care what they think.”

Jongho finished scrubbing you with the first wash, then pulled out two scrubbing brushes. From a small white tub, he began smearing an exfoliant on your skin. It tingled and smelled of cucumber. “She won’t be pleased when she hears they have a pleasure slave now.”

“And that will be of no concern to them.” He let the paste sit in your hair, and joined Jongho in lathering you in the pale green cleanser. “Stand up.”

“What?”

“Stand up. We need to wash all of you before we apply the body toner, the exfoliant, the mud masks, and the serums and oils,” he said. “I told you this would be a long process. Stand up.”

You stood up, the air chilling your wet skin, and the two men started scrubbing. Their brushes scratched your skin raw, removing layers of grime and oil from you. You thought more about your new masters. You remembered them mentioning their plans for you. Hongjoong wanted the “perfect submissive”. Seonghwa wanted a “doll”. San wanted a “wife”. You assumed they couldn’t achieve their wishes with any regular slave, so they needed a slave from a lower level brothel. The high-class demon slaves must be a dime a dozen to these demon lords. With you, they believe they have a slave with no particular talents or skills. You didn't dare mention that you'd technically lied, but it's not your fault they never asked. If they want to shape you, you'd let them. You'd do anything to avoid going back to the brothel; not when you have such a good thing going here.

You jumped when a cold hand touched between your legs. Yeosang said nothing as he covered your sex in a bright blue foam. Since it lacked any sensuality, you couldn’t help feeling a bit of embarrassment.

“Does it sting?” he asked you from his crouched position.

“No?”

“Good. Then that means there are no lesions we have to worry about.”

You yelped next when Jongho applied the same foam to your backside. “Sorry,” he giggled, “I should have warned you first. The masters asked us to do a thorough clean up before Wooyoung arrives.”

“I will say,” Yeosang said, “You do have a very nice body. I can see why the masters took you right away, filth and all.”

“Um, thank you?”

“Take it,” Jongho whispered when he stood behind you, “It’s the closest you’ll get to a compliment.”

Jongho applied lotion to your top half while Yeosang took care of the bottom half. The same was done when they took you to a chair near the window. As Jongho cleaned, cut and shaped your nails, Yeosang did the same with your toes. You thought it might fall under Wooyoung’s jurisdiction, but you didn’t question it. Your head went back to wrapping itself around everything happening. You clearly have entered a new class of slave, and you didn’t know if that was good or bad. You aren’t particularly special apart from being moderately good at things and a damned human soul. What interest would they have in that? If they grew tired of their own kind, you knew they’d eventually lose interest in you too. You shuddered to think what that looked like.

So, you must do whatever they say. Just like everything in your new life, if you make the higher-ups happy, you stay where you are. You would not have gotten to a top-rank position in your previous life otherwise.

“Is she presentable?”

Yunho appeared in the doorway in his black suit, hands behind his back and seriousness on his face. Both Yeosang and Jongho shot up the moment they saw him, not bothered by the tools falling to the floor.

“Yes, sir,” said Yeosang in a curt nod.

He walked further into the room and looked over your nude body. “Hm, yes, I suppose this will have to do,” he approved. “Wooyoung is in the dressing room. Take her there, and I’ll send Mingi to meet you. Her breakfast?”

“Cook is already preparing her breakfast as we speak, sir.”

“The Masters explicitly asked that she maintain a healthy diet,” he said. “They’ve requested three square meals, treats if she’s well behaved and snacks to stave off hunger. I already told Cook how they want her meals planned out. It should be ready by the time Wooyoung finishes. I'll send Mingi to collect her when he's done.”

“Who is Mingi?”

“Your bodyguard,” he answered, “The Masters insisted you be watched over at all times. Mingi is the best of the best. He will make sure you’re safe when The Masters are absent.”

“That’s…nice of them.”

Yunho stepped forward, “I don’t think you realize exactly who you belong to now, YN. Hongjoong, Seonghwa and San are three of Prince Asmodeus’s many offspring which earns them high-born status and royal titles. They are important men in this realm. They can't be seen owning a dirty pleasure slave. What would people think?”

“I was under the impression they don’t care what anyone thinks.”

He laughed softly, “They don’t and they do simultaneously. Unless you enjoyed being infested with fleas?”

“I didn’t have fleas,” you argued.

Yunho huffed, “Regardless, Yeosang, they’re waiting in the dressing room.”

“Of course.”

Both Yeosang and Jongho bowed as he left the room. They grabbed a new, thicker chemise for you to wear and took you back through the bedroom and into a separate room. It was a large closet from what you guessed. Women dressed in maid’s outfits walked about the space hanging up clothes, stacking shoeboxes, and storing jewelry. In the middle of the room stood a skinny, black-haired demon in a black suit with shimmering cuffs and hem line. He directed a pair of maids to hang up three black dresses in the second clothing rack instead of the first.

“Seonghwa is the eldest, so let’s keep this by age order. Hongjoong’s wardrobe is in the middle, thank you,” he said to them. He turned to see Yeosang and Jongho by the dressing room door, and he beamed brightly. “Yeosangie! Jongho! How are you?!”

He hugged both men happily, “So good to see you both again. I thought I’d never get another job in the Black Keep after Mistress left. Where is she?”

“Right here,” Jongho brought you forward. “Wooyoung, this is YN. YN, this is Wooyoung, your groomer.”

“Hello,” you said, trying to smile.

“Aren’t you a beauty?” Wooyoung marveled, walking around you in a circle. “When Yunho told me to expect slum trash, I was expecting matted hair, scars, fleas and sores. This one can almost pass as a demon if you look at her in the right lights. You sure she’s not a cambion?”

“No, she’s not a half-breed,” said Yeosang. “I hope this means you’re satisfied?”

“Very,” he grinned, touching one of your wet locks, “She’s like a fresh canvas. I can’t wait to get started. You two can leave; you, come with me.”

He shooed your handlers away and brought you over to a vanity mirror. Right away, maids surrounded the both of you. Wooyoung dried your hair the way you normally would, taking as much time as he needed, before adding protectants and serums. Your hair smelled like rosemary oil by the time he finished braiding and weaving it into a halo shape. The maids applied light makeup while two more painted your nails in a french manicure.

“You’re a groomer, huh? Like a stylist, right?”

“Kind of,” he said, walking over to a section separate from the three main clothing stations, “I cater to the upper classes rather than the poorer ones. Rich demons like their slaves to look pretty, and those common stylists simply do not have the vision nor the taste that my clients have. I can make a slum slut look like a princess, while the one you had could barely pass you off as a succubus.” He stood in front of the opposite wall, staring at the different outfits he’d brought with him. “That’s why your masters called on me to dress you.”

“What are you dressing me with today?”

“I have no idea. They didn’t tell me which of them you’d be with today, so I’ll go with my gut on this. I’ll go with…” he scanned the rack, fingers dancing over the different fabrics before stopping, “Yes, this one should be nice. It’s simple, clean and pretty. You have no idea how many times the word ‘pretty’ was used in that letter. My assistants and I played a drinking game with it.”

He brought over a short pale blue sundress. It reminded you of the dresses you used to wear at your summer house. Flowing dresses that kept you cool in the summer season and left a bit to the imagination. Your boss at the time loved seeing you in shorter sun dresses, but you only wore those to please him. Sleeping with him got you the office manager position you’d wanted. Your masters reminded you of him in a way: A horny rich man with particular kinks and preferences. Back then, you played whatever trope your lover wanted. You endured their flirtations because it meant you’d climb higher on the ladder; you’d have more money, more freedom.

When you died in that club bathroom, you lost all of that.

Yeosang and Jongho returned, followed by another man. He stood taller than both of them, with long blond hair he kept to his shoulders. Like most of the house staff, he wore a suit, except he looked more militarized with the buttons down the front and a sword sheathed at his waist. He gave you the same stone stare a lot of people around here had.

“YN, this is Mingi,” Yeosang introduced the guard behind them. “He’s your bodyguard. He'll be in charge of your security and safety.”

“Nice to meet you,” you said as Wooyoung slipped the dress over your head and fixed it around your waist.

Mingi only nodded his head.

“Hurry and finish,” Yeosang said to you, “The Masters have woken up already and they’re already having breakfast.”

“I'm going, I'm going. I’m putting the very last touches,” Wooyoung grabbed a perfume bottle, then sprayed it all around you. “There, she’s ready.”

Coughing on the scent of vanilla in the air, you looked at yourself in a nearby mirror. The person that looked at you in the mirror resembled the living version more than the dead one. The living you adorned herself with luxury brands, went to the salon regularly, drove fancy cars, had a penthouse where she threw parties every weekend. She had her own stockbroker company; she rolled in money regardless of how many lives she'd ruined. She stared at you now in the mirror, looking the same except for her eyes. Your eyes. They did not have the confidence or perhaps arrogance you once carried. No amount of makeup could conceal the emptiness inside.

“They’re going to be so pleased!” Jongho beamed, a gummy smile bringing up his cheeks. “She looks wonderful!”

“Well done, Wooyoung,” Yeosang bowed slightly, “You’ll be paid handsomely for this.”

“I hope so,” he said, “And well done to you too. I heard she was a mess when they brought her here.”

“Filthy, for certain,” he replied. “Come, I’ll take you to Yunho for your payment. Jongho, take YN to her masters. They’re in the dining room.”

“Yes.”

Yeosang and Wooyoung left the room, and Jongho turned to you. “You look beautiful, YN,” he grinned at you, leading you out of the dressing room through another door. Walking into a carpeted hallway, Mingi stayed five steps behind you while Jongho walked beside you.

“Wooyoung really knew what he was doing when he dressed you in that. It’ll go nicely with your collar when The Masters go to pick it up.”

“Collar?”

“You didn’t think you’d be walking around without one, did you? How else are people supposed to know you belong to someone already?”

“Right…I never gave it much thought.”

“Well, I haven’t seen it yet, but I bet it’s going to be beautiful. Nothing like those leather straps I see the common slaves wear,” he said. “I’m sure it’ll match your leashes too.”

You hated leashes. If being owned by someone didn’t strip you of your humanity, being tugged around on a leash did. Rufus used to tell you that sort of freedom needed to be earned; it wasn’t given automatically. At least you had a bedroom and not a pet bed or a cage.

Jongho led you through several corridors before bringing you into a dining room. More posh furniture, expensive possessions and fancy artwork surrounded the room. At a dining table, you saw the three brothers sitting together. They each picked at the breakfast spread laid out before them, talking as they ate and drank. None of them noticed either you or Jongho, so wrapped up in their conversation that they didn’t care for the servants nearby. You took sight of the other maids standing by; how they remained silent like statues, meant to be seen and only called upon when needed.

“Masters,” Jongho said to get their attention, “Your pet is here.”

The three of them smiled when they saw you. Eyes undressed you a second time, mouths dropping open and eyes growing heavy.

“She looks phenomenal,” Seonghwa said first. “Like a delicate piece of cake.”

“A yummy cake,” Hongjoong smirked, eyes far too focused on your chest. “I personally prefer her with nothing at all.”

“We discussed this already, Hongjoong,” Seonghwa looked at him, “She is not walking about here naked.”

“She doesn't have to be fully naked,” he remarked. “Lingerie works just as well.”

“I think she's lovely either way,” said San, “Sit with us.”

Jongho brought you to the other side of the table. All three of them continued staring, and you didn't know how to react or feel. Jongho pulled your chair out for you, placed a cloth napkin in your lap and pushed you forward. He said nothing as he left you alone with your new Owners.

“How are you feeling, Pet?” Hongjoong asked, returning to his breakfast. “Not too sore, I hope.”

“Nothing beyond what I normally feel,” you admitted. Sitting did feel uncomfortable, but nothing you could not manage on your own.

“Really? No stinging pain or soreness anywhere?” San asked, drinking from a coffee cup. “You don't have to be brave around us, Darling.”

“It's there, but I'm used to it,” you admitted.

“Then we have to make an effort to have you really feeling it the next time, don't we?” Hongjoong smirked.

“Ugh, Joongie,” Seonghwa rolled his eyes. “Ignore him, Kitten. You'll come to learn Master Hongjoong is quite lewd.”

“You say that as if you're not.”

“Alright, I stand corrected: he is openly lewd.” He quietly sipped from his tea cup, and said, “But, I want to know more about you, Kitten. What were you before you died?”

You squirmed in your seat. “A CEO of my own company…” you answered softly, not meeting their eyes. Shame instantly cane over you saying the words out loud.

“But last night you told us that you're basically useless as a slave,” said Hongjoong. “How could you own your own company?”

You didn't want to answer. You couldn't bear saying it out loud. “I sort of…cheated my way there?”

“How?”

“She fucked her way to the top,” snorted Hongjoong, finishing off his stew. He gave a taunting laugh, “I fucking knew it.”

“Yeah, I did…”

Seonghwa continued staring at you. You felt him scanning over you like they'd done last night. Jongho returned with a silver tray with a cup of milk, a bowl of oatmeal and fresh fruit. You forced yourself to focus on the food rather than the demon's attentive stare. You promised yourself you'd keep your previous life private. Whenever a client or a fellow slave asked, you lied each time. Yet, something told you that lying to these three is pointless. You ate some of the oatmeal, tasted the cinnamon flavored oats and dropped a few blueberries into it.

“You scammed people,” Seonghwa smirked knowingly. You hated the violated feeling he left inside your head. It felt as if someone poked a hole and stuck the screwdriver around. “Didn't you?”

“I did.”

“How?”

“My company sold stocks,” you admitted, stirring your oatmeal to focus on something else. You tried not thinking about anything but the mushy, milky oats turning a tinged blue. “That's it.”

“That's not it, though,” Seonghwa said, his eyes narrowing and grinning, “You made people go broke after you stole their money from them. A man even killed himself after he lost his life savings. Your company left a lot of people way worse than if you'd left them alone.” He leaned forward, “You stole their money because you wanted to live a life of ultimate excess. Sex, money, power, alcohol…drugs.”

You forced down more oatmeal at the word.

“Do you want to tell my brothers how you died or do you want me to?”

“I overdosed on coke in a club bathroom.”

“Had a snow day in that stall, huh?” Hongjoong joked.

“It’s not something I’m proud of.”

“You sound like you were proud of it at the time.”

“Of course I was,” you argued. “I was a single woman with no college education, working a high-paying job, sleeping with people I wanted to sleep with, and doing whatever I felt like doing.”

“Some of those people just happened to be married too,” Seonghwa sneered. Hands intertwined, he placed them on the table and said, “It appears our pet was quite naughty in her previous life.”

“Obviously,” San rolled his eyes. “But, she’s a good girl now, which is all that matters to me,” he smiled fondly at you, then chewed his bacon.

“I love the naughty ones,” Hongjoong said, drinking from a wine cup. “I love the high-spirited, fierce ones. They’re fun to break. I wonder how long it took them to break you? A year? Two?”

“I suppose. Time works differently here.”

“It does,” San said, “Besides, why does any of that matter? She’s here now and that should be enough.”

“I’m not going to have a total stranger in my house,” Seonghwa looked over at him. “I like to know what I can.”

“As if you can’t just burrow into her head and find it yourself like you just did,” he pointed out.

“I prefer she give me the information willingly, rather than me having to find it myself,” Seonghwa said. “It’s more fun watching them squirm as they reveal themselves to me.” He turned back to you, “It’s like peeling back an orange and seeing the veins underneath. Our secrets, no matter how small, stick to us like a second skin. Getting to spend my whole day flaying that skin gives me no greater satisfaction. I like seeing the filth and wickedness these human sinners try hiding. It’s my job to make them confess and accept their fate. Judging from how you ended up being a slave, you already felt guilty for what you’d done.”

“Psh, too late for repentance now,” Hongjoong laughed softly.

“How did you become a slave, Darling?” San said.

“They asked me.”

“Who?”

“The slavers. They come around the circles and ask if anyone wishes to trade their punishment in for a lighter punishment.”

“Did they tell you what this ‘lighter punishment’ was?”

“No. I didn’t know until I had the collar around my neck.”

“They didn’t brand you,” Hongjoong noted. “They usually brand the slaves.”

“They thought it’d damage me,” you shrugged.

You thought back to the slaver who’d clapped chains on you. A hulking demon with dark green skin and beady black eyes came regularly to the circle of lust looking for demon slaves. Usually, they go for the other demons looking to escape their poverty, but occasionally they take humans. He thought you were pretty enough for a human. You’d make him a lot of money, he said. After a few months with him, he sold you off to somebody else. That slaver then put you up for auction after you slashed a patron with a broken bottle. The man who bought you after that enjoyed using the whip, and he liked using it on you.

“I bet after you started seeing that perhaps enslavement is worse than whatever punishment you served in your circle,” Hongjoong guessed. You saw the delight at the idea in his eyes. “After a few years of being abused and raped by demons night after night slowly broke you. Having your dignity stripped from you inch by inch and piece by piece left you a walking shell, huh?” His eyes glinted with a smile, “I wish I’d been there. It’s an entertaining sight, watching a slave be broken. It’s a shame they’d broken you already,” he pouted in a sigh, “I’d love to have been the one to break you.”

“But the broken ones are so bland,” San said. “They have no personality. They’re always sad and miserable. It makes for a really boring fuck.”

“Extremely boring,” Seonghwa agreed.

You drank some coffee, black and bitter, to keep yourself from speaking. There’d been nights where you enjoyed it. It wasn’t always bad. You found demon cock and pussy better than anything you had before. A few customers might get rough with you, toss you around and beat you to pieces before taking it, but not all of them. As long as you faked resistance with some, the brothel owners did not come down on you. Last night had been the best of them all.

Seonghwa’s laugh broke through your thoughts. “Slut,” he said, amused.

“What?” Hongjoong asked eagerly. “What did you see?”

“They broke you well,” Seonghwa said to you. “You began to like it after a while.”

“You did?” Hongjoong laughed.

“A lot,” he answered for you. “That’s definitely a bonus for us,” he said, finishing his breakfast and wiping his mouth. “That way we can bypass all the tears and fussing. It makes for a really ruined orgasm, and I don’t know about you, but I don’t like my sluts weeping when I’m fucking them.” He stood up from his seat and walked over to you. You stayed still as warm hands rested on your shoulders and his lips touched your ear. “Unless it’s because they’re so overwhelmed and overstimulated they can’t take it anymore.” His hands went down your arms and came at level with your breasts, “You were magnificent last night, Kitten. You took our cocks so well and did so much more than what we expected from you. I fell asleep thinking about your mouth wrapped around my dick, sucking me softly and slowly.” He cupped your breasts through your dress, the gentle touch making you gasp. “And your pussy…” he exhaled deeply, “Your sweet pussy really did taste like honey. I wonder who did that? Humans only taste like that if a demon made it that way. I could eat it all day,” he pecked underneath your ear, “And have you ride me right after.” He groped your breasts, creating a tightness inside you. “I can’t wait to have you to myself.”

“Master…” you breathed, gripping the edges of your chair as he pinched your nipples through the dress.

Seonghwa chuckled deeply, giving your neck a kiss, “I regret going into work so early now. How can I be expected to be content with a good breakfast when I have your sensitive sex in front of me? It’s torture itself.” He gave your neck another kiss, then stood up straight. “I’m off, Brothers,” he said, “I’ll see you all tonight.”

They waved him goodbye, leaving you with San and Hongjoong. Clearly, the sight of Seonghwa coaxing a reaction from you propelled Hongjoong to do the same. The red-haired demon came up to you next. Standing beside you, he traced your jawline before turning your chin. You looked up at him, seeing the gleam of arousal in his eyes as he examined you.

“It’s a shame I’m working all day,” he sighed. His thumb traced the bottom lip line, “I’d love to spend the day edging and teasing you until you’re weeping from need.” He crouched beside you, sliding his hand under the arm and into your lap. You jumped in place as he felt beneath your dress. “I imagine this pussy,” he pressed his fingers to your sex, sliding them up and down your slit, “Gets very, very, wet if I try hard enough.” He pushed one finger further into the soft material to feel the wetness growing there. He laughed, “Already getting wet for me, huh? Filthy slut.” He nuzzled your neck as he continued circling your clit, “My dirty slut. My good whore. All mine, whenever I want you. I’m supposed to share you with my brothers, as we’d all agreed,” he smiled into your neck as you shifted around his fingers, “But that doesn’t mean I won’t fuck you on their days either. A quick one in the bathroom or in Hwa’s library…maybe in the garden after dark, where it’s only you and me and I’m pumping more of my cum into you. I saw how much you came whenever we finished inside you. You’re going to be so full, Pet. So fucking full you’ll be bursting from that tight hole.”

“Don’t you have sinners to go torture, Joong?” San appeared on the other side of you. “You know they don’t like it when you’re late. You’re their best Affliction.”

Hongjoong huffed contemptuously, removing his hand from under your dress. “Fine,” he grumbled, standing up. “I’ll be home after dark.”

“As always.”

Hongjoong walked out of the room scowling, but this did not bother San. He gave you a gentle smile when you two were the last ones. He put his hand on your knee, tracing circles with his thumb as he spoke.

“You really were wonderful last night,” he said, looking to where his hand was on your body. “You were so well behaved and made me cum so hard. I’ve never had a whore who made me cum like that. You really are something special.”

“I’m happy you were pleased, Master,” you responded, doing your best not to melt into his touch.

“I was very, very pleased,” he chuckled. “You only did for me what any good servant does for her masters; what any good wife would do for her husband.”

So he meant it when he said you’d roleplay as his wife.

“Come with me,” he said, kissing your cheek. “I want to show you our room.”

You followed San from the dining room, through a hall with checkered floors and two staircases going upwards. The space between doors indicated that the rooms inside must be big. You guessed the masters’ individual rooms by the doors themselves. Seonghwa’s doors had two masked faces on either side of the frame; both gave austere gazes through empty eye sockets, staring straight ahead to the opposite wall. Hongjoong kept succubus decals outside his door, the two slim figures in the same suggestive pose and half-naked. San’s doors had two sigils on either door: a shield with two swords crossing over it. This is where you stopped.

He opened the door, and led you into a foyer area where you saw a coat rack, key holders, and a mat. Bright yellow walls stretched throughout the main room, with a dark green carpet on the floor. The furniture reminded you of the retro 50’s styles you’d see on television. It came with the old school big televisions, a record player, and matching green couches and an armchair. Paintings on the walls seemed like the kind someone might buy at a thrift store, mass produced with no name. San had not been joking when he said he wanted a housewife.

“This is obviously the living room,” San said, gesturing to the large room. Even the curtains reminded you of the ones from your grandmother’s house, a hideous floral pattern that matched the greenery of the room. “You don’t have to worry about cleaning anything since the maids come here and do that, but I’d like it if you at least pretended you had. You know, mention cleaning something or doing our laundry or whatever comes to you when I come home. I like thinking that you went through the trouble of keeping my house orderly for me.”

“Yes, Master.”

“And breakfast and lunch is already covered by Cook,” he said, “All you need to worry about is dinner.”

“I…I don’t know how to cook very well…”

“That’s not a problem. You only need to plan out the dinner meal, and have the kitchen make it for you. Of course, you’ll be serving it yourself. I would like you to at least have a drink prepared for me when I come home. I left you a list of drinks I like by the bar,” he pointed to a small bar in the corner.

“How will I know when you come home?”

“Simple,” he retrieved a laminated paper from the bar and handed it to you, “I have a schedule that you’ll be following.”

You read the schedule to yourself as San went to the bar. “6am, regular morning routine with handlers. 7am, wake Husband up-”

“-Preferably with a blowjob or something. It’s a good start to the day-”

“-7:30am, prepare breakfast-”

“-Cook has a list of foods that I like that you can choose from-”

“-9am, breakfast with Husband-”

“-In our dining room,” he led you into another room, a lovely dining area with a dark wood table and chairs. “It’s only on Sundays that we’d eat with Hongjoong and Seonghwa.”

“-10am, see Husband off to work-”

“-On my days only-”

“-10am to 5pm, clean house and run errands as needed. Prepare self last ten minutes for husband-”

“-No husband likes coming home to a frazzled wife. I like seeing you pretty when I come home-”

“-6pm, dinner with Husband. 7pm, bath and bed routine. 8pm bedtime.”

It was the stereotypical housewife schedule you’d expected. Your own mother followed a similar routine because she didn’t know any better. Every woman in your family married right out of high school, had children, cleaned their house, went to their own jobs if they had one, and came home to cook dinner and take care of their husband. You’d told yourself you’d never follow such a lifestyle. There’d been more to life than catering to a man and popping out babies for him.

“What do you think?” San asked for your opinion.

“The truth?”

“Preferably.”

“It reminds me of my mother,” you said, keeping the bittersweetness out of your voice. “She had the same routine, except she still worked. All day. Every day, she served my deadbeat dad like he was a king. The bastard never showed an ounce of appreciation. She slaved over stoves, vacuum carpets, and cleaned toilets. She did everything he wanted her to do, and he never gave anything back. All he did was take and take and take.”

“Touched a nerve, huh?” San teased with a smile.

“I hated him.”

“Most girls with daddy issues had one that loved them too much or not enough. Which one are you?”

“Stupid bitch! Youre so goddamn worthless! Why do I even keep you and that brat around?!”

“Darling?”

“I'm sorry, Jack! I'm sorry! I'll…I'll remake it, I promise!”

“Darling, you in there?”

“You got detention again? Why am I not surprised? You might as well quit school, kid. The only thing you'll be smart enough to do is lay on your back!”

“Hey, come back to me.”

You snapped back into reality with San's gentle touch. Rough hands sliding over your softer ones soothed the shakiness of your bones. You took notice of his kind eyes, and how they did not seem to delight in your misery. They pitied you. He wrapped a hand behind your neck and another brought you closer to him. His warmth felt comforting now, his spiced scent reminding you of warm cinnamon rolls on a lazy sunday morning. You hated the effects incubus pheromones did to you. They often used them to subdue you; it made you more compliant. But, with San, this did not feel that way.

“Maybe I won't be so strict on my schedule,” he decided, seeing the permanent sadness in your eyes. “My older brothers will already be enough. You don't need me adding to it-”

“-No, no,” you shook your head. “I will follow your schedule as you asked. You're my master. I'm supposed to please you according to your comfort levels, not mine.”

“But I want you to enjoy it too,” he said. “Your comfort here means a lot to me.”

“It does?”

“Yes, of course. You're my pet now,” he lifted your chin so you looked at him, “I want to take care of you.”

You couldn't trust the word of a demon. They all lie. Yet, you accepted his false promise.

“Did you have siblings?” He asked, hoping to move onto something else.

“No. It was just the three of us.”

“Lucky. I have dozens of half-siblings. My father is the Prince of Lust, so you can imagine that results in a lot of kids,” he chuckled softly. “Cambion and full blooded demons in my family tree. I don’t even know most of them, since we're all so scattered.”

“Then why do you live with your brothers? Do you have the same mother?”

“We do," he answered. "Kim Youngmi, the meanest bitch I've had the pleasure of meeting. She doesn't come around much, so it's not such a big deal. We don't really see our dad either, since he isn't really a paternal type."

“I do too,” he then said, “If it makes you feel better, he's likely down in the circles while you're up here at the top.”

"I wish mine could've been the same way.”

“We're still in the same place.”

“Oh, Darling,” he sighed, “Maybe one day you'll realize exactly where you are. You're not living in a dirty, gross brothel anymore. You're living in the Black Keep high up on the hill in the Land of Depravity. You must understand how important that makes you now.”

San brought you into his arms, eyes growing lustful as he felt down your back. That familiar scent from last night came back, relaxing your tense body. “It's a shame I can't breed you,” he said, changing subject once again. “I’d love to see you round and swollen with my kid. They’d be as beautiful and sweet as you, and as strong as me. They could fill up those empty rooms, pattering around and causing chaos in this place. I really wish we could,” He kissed your lips softly, “But that doesn’t mean I can’t try, right? You love it when I cum inside you, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you breathed as he kissed you again.

He grinned, “Good to know. Knowing you liked that only made me want to fill you up with more of it in each hole.”

The arousal his brothers started stirred in your stomach as San kissed you again. This time he locked his lips with yours and slipped his tongue into your mouth. You let out an involuntary gasp feeling his tongue snake its way inside and brush with yours. San groaned softly, sliding his hands down your back to grab your ass. When he slid his tongue away, he gave several kisses which ended with a tug to your lower lip. Your hands rested on his muscled arms, feeling them flex through his crisp white shirt. For a moment, you imagined him without the upturned horns and the black claws that can rip and tear through you. He’d be the hot new guy at your office, eager to start working and making money. You’d be only eager to get into his pants. San pressed you against the dining table, your legs instinctively spread for him.

“Such a good girl,” he said, starting to kiss down your neck, “Ready to go whenever I want.” He stepped back and looked you over. “They put you in such a short dress.”

“Do you not like it?”

“I’m not a big fan of it,” he admitted, “But that doesn’t stop me at all.” He put his hands on the hem of your dress, and lifted it off of you. In nothing but the white lace bra and panty set Wooyoung put you in, you stayed still to let him look at you. “This…” he breathed, reaching up to squeeze one of your tits, “This I certainly don’t mind.”

You bit your lip as you watched him start a trail of kisses over your cleavage. Little by little, San tugged down the bra underneath your breasts until the straps came down your shoulders. Your bare flesh exposed to him, San moaned as he took one nipple in his mouth. You grinded into his bulge, big and steadily hardening, when the small sensitive sparks started bursting. His hot tongue traced the wrinkled skin of your nipples, flicking at the peak at the very end while he squeezed them more. You couldn’t help yourself from reaching down his hard body to the tent forming in his black slacks.

“Mm, yes,” he breathed, giving each nipple a soft bite, “Stroke it. Take it out and stroke it for me, Darling.”

You unbuckled his belt, whimpering as he continued sucking on your nipples, and pulled him out. Just as big and hard as last night, your mouth watered feeling the hot, hard muscle twitch in your hand. The temperature between you went up once you both started kissing again, moaning into each other’s mouths. You found yourself grinding against nothing, eager to have friction against your aching sex. San saw this and turned you around so you stood in front of him. Lifting one of your legs, he placed his thigh up against you while he held you there.

“There you go, sweetheart,” he said in your ear, “Rub against my leg. I want you to leave a little wet spot there for me. Go ahead and make a mess on my pants. I won’t be mad.”

You leaned into him and started rubbing yourself into the hard thigh. Not an ounce of fat on this man; none at all. San was all muscle, which he flexed as you started stroking him again. You continued in time with your humping, whining like a bitch in heat for him. His cock throbbed in your hand in every squeeze of his tip, and he let out a low groan when you reached down to his balls momentarily.

“Keep doing that,” he said, forcing you to keep your hand on them, “It feels so damn good. I love feeling your pretty hand on my balls…fuck, yes…”

He took hold of your ass to guide you along his thigh. The touch urged you to pleasure him more. His low hums rumbled in his chest as you kissed down his neck. San took a moment to unbutton the first few buttons to give you access to his warm, taupe skin. You rolled his balls in your hand, cupping them how he cupped your ass and giving a gentle squeeze. Your pussy grew wetter the longer you humped his thigh, the juices seeping through your panties and onto his pants.

“Gosh, you’re getting so wet, Darling,” he said in a raspy voice, pinching your nipple as you traveled back up his length. “I love it.”

Gosh, he was big. You loved taking in his length and girth. In the real world, he’d likely split you in half but not here. Not when you’re dead, and your body molded to take him in all and every angle. You wanted it again. You picked up the pace on his thigh, whining and jerking him until his precum dripped from the slit. This amused San, who started teasing your nipple again with his fingers. His teasing had you trembling in his grasp, combined with his hard body underneath you.

“Cum for me,” he said, capturing your lips with his. “Cum on my thigh. I want you to make a mess for me to flaunt around.”

Your free hand on his shoulder, you rode out your orgasm. It hit you much harder than you’d expected, your muscles seizing tightly and only relaxing when you finished. Breathing hard into his shoulder, your legs became jelly once again. The strong, muscled demon had no problem pulling you onto his lap against the table and turning you over. Pushing your panties aside, San plunged right into your clenching hole all the way to his balls. He kept your knees on either side of him as he started pumping himself inside you. You put one of his hands on your tits, wanting him to play with them again while he fucked you. He didn’t deny you this, and grabbed it exactly how he had before.

Your grunts and moans joined together into the air. Back arching against the hardwood, you lost yourself in San. His cinnamon pheromone filled your lungs, becoming better than any line of cocaine you’d ever snorted. It gave you the energy you needed to keep taking his cock even after an orgasm. You could feel his tip pushing into your g-spot each time, creating a bulge in your lower belly as it’d done last night. San noticed this, staring down where your bodies met and he kept the same depth and pace. You touched right where you felt him the most as if this might pleasure him further, and this aroused him even more.

“Touch yourself for me,” San said in a shaky breath, “Rub that clit for me.”

Fingers pressing to your soaked clit, you rolled them around in circles for him. “Master…” you breathed, “Master, please don’t stop. It feels so fucking good. Don’t stop.”

“I won’t, Darling,” he breathed. “I won’t. Just keeping rubbing your pussy like that and I'll keep going as long as you want.”

He then lifted you off the table, holding you in his strong arms as he bounced you up and down on it. You didn’t dare question exactly how strong your demon “husband” was, but it had you shaking in his embrace. It might as well be a work out for him with your size. Every deep, hard thrust brought up your volume. You couldn’t stop yourself.

That’s likely why you didn’t hear Yunho walk in on you. The butler didn’t say anything. He didn’t make his presence known to San. He only stood in the doorway, stock still with hands behind his back. Having him watch so intently, maintain eye contact with him as San grunted in your ear, brought on a new orgasm. One of the things you’d liked about the brothel were the lack of walls. The poorer patrons fucked in the open, main lounge in front of everyone.

Yunho’s gaze turned from stone to enjoyment the longer he watched. He is likely instructed to wait until his masters are done before speaking.

“Yunho is here, isn’t he?” San said in your ear, breathing hard as his orgasm approached.

“Yes.”

“Do you want him to stay and watch or should I send him away?”

You didn’t particularly know Yunho other than his position in the house, but having his round puppy eyes focused on you had you burning.

“I…” what would San want?

“It won’t be his first time.” He pressed his lips to your neck, “There are peep holes all around the house. In the bathrooms, the dressing rooms, the bathrooms, everywhere. He prefers to watch rather than play.”

“He…He…I…”

“Yunho,” San put you back on the table, “Come sit here.”

“Yes, Master.”

Yunho took a seat at the table, removing his gloves and placing them on the table. His eyes met yours, and you expected him to touch you, but he didn’t. He looked over your face, then down to your breasts and then where San pounded into you. You heard the faint sound of a buckle and zipper before he slid his hand into his pants. San lifted you further and spread you apart so Yunho had a view of him inside you. Yunho‘s mouth fell open at the sight, and he instantly began pumping himself.

“Isn’t her cunt pretty, Yunho?” San asked in a smirk, head tilting back as you gripped him tightly.

“Very,” he swallowed, his arm moving slowly up and down.

San withdrew for a moment to rub his length along your sex, making sure to gather all the juices and spread them enough for Yunho to see. When he tapped on it, the light smacks jerked your knees and curled your toes. Yunho could also see the strings of fluids keeping San’s length connected to yours. He let out a particularly loud groan seeing your wetness being pooled and played with by his master. You wriggled on the table for San to put his cock back in, but your master did something different. Pulling you by the knees, he made you face Yunho from the other side after bending you over the edge. Yunho leaned back in his chair as you bounced against San’s hips, nearly drooling when San grabbed your arms to expose your bouncing breasts.

“Look how hard he is for you,” San moaned in your ear. “I’ve never seen him get hard so quickly. Then again,” you almost heard him smile, “Yunho has a fetish for humans.”

He instantly started going faster and harder, slowly going over the edge in each thrust. Yunho stayed transfixed on you the entire time. Your mouth hung open once you saw him pull himself from the restraints of his pants. Not as long as his masters, Yunho did have the width that had you wishing he’d join in. You arched your back more so he saw the rest of you. He began stroking faster, and you saw more clear precum sliding down from the head. Thick and red, you nearly drooled seeing it in his big hand.

“Fuck, I wanna cum inside you. I want to fill-fill you up, and get you pregnant. Nothing would make me fucking happier,” San said, lifting your knee to the table, bending you forward further and reaching your g-spot once more. “Bending you over this table while you're carrying one…Having you ride me slow…fuck, that'd feel so damn good, wouldn't it?”

“Yes, yes, Mas-a-ster,” you cried between gritted teeth.

“Wouldn't you like to see that too, Yunho?”

“Yes…Yes, I would…”

"Doesn’t my slave fuck nicely?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you like watching her?”

“Yes, sir,” he croaked through a moan as he gripped his chair tightly. His body contorting to his pleasure, the obscene sounds of his slick cock joined his moans. “She…She…”

“She, what?”

“She’s…so beautiful. She fucked you so well last night, sir,” he confessed, going faster and shutting his eyes. “I’ve never seen humans take a demon cock like that.”

“That’s what I said,” San took your waist and pinned you to the table. “That’s…That’s what I said!”

San released his orgasm right at that moment. Yunho quickly came to his at the same time, thick streams sliding down his underside onto his pants. You shook and clawed at the table feeling San’s cum spray your insides. The distinct heat and the squishing from below had you crying for more. San gave a few more deep pumps, slowly coming down from his orgasm as he twitched inside you. He said nothing as he withdrew from you, placed you on the table facing Yunho, and showed him your pussy. Messy, sloppy, and oozing with San’s demon cum, Yunho’s orgasm seemed to heighten instead of fall back down.

“A demon of greed and excess,” San explained in a breath, “They have a hard time letting go of good things…You might know something about that.”

Yunho eventually finished, slumping into the chair and tilting his head back. Clearly, creampies were one of Yunho’s favorite things, from what you guessed by the amount of cum on his pants and shirt.

“I’m…I’m sorry, Master,” he breathed, coming back to himself. He grabbed a cloth from his jacket and hurriedly cleaned himself. “I…I shouldn’t have…”

“It’s fine, Yunho,” San assured him. “You’ve served us very well. You deserve nice things from time to time. YN didn’t mind either,” he said. He looked at his watch, “Ah, I have to go.” He ran his hands through his hair and took a deep breath. “Good thing I’m commentating the arena today,” he breathed in relief, “Otherwise I don’t think I can fight on wobbly knees.” You heard him zip up his pants again, then bend over to kiss your shoulder. “Get cleaned up, Darling. Seonghwa wouldn’t want you dirty. He hates dirty things…Well, some things can be dirty, I’m sure.”

He pecked your lips, patted Yunho’s shoulder, then walked out of the room. The tension in the room rose, and you immediately closed yourself up. You began pulling your bra back over your breasts, not meeting Yunho’s eyes as he fixed his suit.

“You should, um, wash up and rest,” Yunho said awkwardly, finally standing up from his chair. His eyes went back down your body to your sex, which you’ve covered back up. “I’ll call Yeosang and-”

“-I’d like to wash myself, if that’s okay?”

“Alright then, um, yes. Yes, you can do that. You should also give those over to me,” he nodded to your underwear, “They’re dirty and you should be wearing fresh ones when Seonghwa comes for his lunch break.”

“Planning on keeping them?” you hoped teasing might ease the tension.

“No,” he replied rather defensively. “The underwear, please.” You removed them and handed them over to him. “The bathroom is across the room. If you need assistance, just call out his name and Jongho will come to serve you. If you’ll excuse me, I have duties to, well, um, attend to."

He stiffly walked out of the dining room. The weight of your newest orgasm left you feeling light and fuzzy. When you slid off the table, the stickiness rubbed your inner thighs and your legs buckled slightly through the apartment. You removed your bra, since you saw no reason to keep it, and went into the bathroom. As you sunk into a warm bath, a giddy sensation filled your stomach. The reality of your situation started growing on you, and sinking its teeth into your veins like a venomous snake. You had a whole house of incubi and demon cock to have at all hours of the day. It sounded so much better than pleasuring the patrons of the House of Kisses.

You sank into the water, letting it engulf you, and imagined what Seonghwa had planned for you.

***

A/N: what exactly has yn gotten herself into?? It's only getting better from here haha

#pirateeznet #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #ateez smut #choi san #san x reader #san x yn #san x you #san ateez #san smut

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the-californicationist · 1 month ago

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Cali's Kinktober: Day 13

Kinktober Masterlist pulvis et umbra sumus - "we are dust and shadow" TF141 x f!reader Kinks > monsters, knotting, ritual magic sex in a cave Full tags on AO3 - MDNI - Read at your own risk.

Monster AU where the TF141 are gargoyles. You love your shitty 87th floor apartment, you really do. Sure, the view is mostly fog and smog and clouds, but your balcony is shielded by four awesome gargoyles. You spend long nights admiring their statuesque figures wishing they could come to life and please you since no human man seems to be able to. Be careful what you wish for, I guess?

Warning: short part with an abusive ex-boyfriend, but he gets gargoyled pretty quickly, so it's short-lived.

Rain pelted the grimy, floor-to-ceiling windows of your apartment. It seemed like it was always raining. You loved living downtown in District 10, you really did, but damn if it wasn’t hard to meet people. Sure, millions of people lived in the city right alongside you, but other than a few dates to the ramen shop around the corner, your attempts to find The One had fallen flat.

It was the same song and dance. They’d ask what you did for a living, and if they stuck around after you told them that you were a professional streamer, they either thought you were rich or that you wanted to flash your pussy on camera for money. Either way, the only guys who stuck around after they made their judgements about your job were either disappointed by your shitty studio apartment or were terrible in the sack. Clearly, they just wanted an easy lay and never called you again.

You didn’t really have anyone to complain to since your best friend abandoned you for Topeka, of all places, to get married and have a litter of babies. You were happy for her, truly, but bitching to a woman who was cherished by her man about your shitty Tinder dates was a dark, dark time that you didn’t care to have.

So, you smoked, and you told your gargoyles all about it.

Your apartment was unique in the fact that you had the entire patio to yourself, and it was shielded from the wind by the outstretched wings of four enormous gargoyles. They were huge, at least seven feet tall, and their bodies looked like they were ready to compete in the next strongman world championship.

You’d named them all, of course. There was the spooky one with a skull-shaped mask over his face and huge fangs that you called Mr. Bones, one with a mohawk that you named Mr. T, a supermodel-hot statue that you named Mr. Vain, and your favorite one, the biggest of them all and the guardian that sat right next to your bed, Mr. Big.

That’s where you found yourself tonight. You were crouched in your usual spot, tucked in an oversized raincoat, a pair of wellies, and nothing else, smoking a cigarette under the protective wings of Mr. Big.

You watched the tip glow golden bright as you took a drag, holding it in longer than normal, hoping to feel something other than disappointed.

“He was such a jerk, Big. Didn’t even bring a condom. Not sure someone with a dick that small should have that sort of audacity, ya know?”

Mr. Big didn’t reply. He looked out over the dense, foggy night and shielded you from the rain, keeping you dry while you smoked.

You leaned against his chest as he crouched over you, raking your eyes over his body with more appraisal than you usually did, confessing aloud,

“I bet you’ve got cock for days under that loincloth. And I bet you’d pay for a babe’s dinner. Maybe even buy her a strawberry shake afterwards. Bet you wouldn’t ask to come up; you’d just wait to be invited. And I bet you’d bring your own damn condoms to a third date, huh?”

He loomed. You sighed,

“Yeah, I know you would. You know what?”

At that very moment, you gazed up into the sky as the clouds shifted and cleared, revealing a heavy, orange harvest moon. You spotted a streak of falling stars out of the corner of your eye, and you watched as they crossed the moon’s body, falling towards earth, burning up a million miles away, and you said,

“I wish you guys were real.”

You watched the stars vanish over the horizon, and you took one last drag off of your cigarette, flinging it off the side like a nasty little gremlin, not caring where it landed or what catastrophe you had just contributed to. This whole world was fucked. What was one more cigarette butt, right?

“But, you’re not real, Mr. Big. Maybe one day you’ll wake up and come save me from this damn carousel of nightmares. You and your buddies could fly me around, give me a mindblowing fuck, and steal me away from here. Wouldn’t that be something?”

You stood up next to him, barely tall enough to reach his face even though he was crouched over. You caressed his cheek, wiping the raindrops from his brow, and lifted yourself up to kiss him on the corner of his bearded mouth, right where his fang protruded from the lip, round and sharp like a boar’s tusk.

“Goodnight, Mr. Big. See you in the morning.”

You toweled dry as you stepped through the window, using the same old towel you’d been using all week, making a mental note to get around to the laundry. Then, you snuggled under the covers, checking your notifications and getting upset that there weren’t more (even though you’d just checked them before you went out to smoke). Maybe you would have to start flashing your tits online if you wanted to make the real bucks.

You flipped your phone over and went to sleep, begging your brain to give you filthy gargoyle dreams.

Once dawn’s glow yanked you from your peaceful slumber, you’d forgotten all about why you’d been so sad. You forgot about Dan, or David (Darren?), whatever his name was. You hopped online and said hi to your early birds, fitting the headphones over your ears just to let them know you’d be back in a bit. Then, you had a quick shower, ducked out for half of a smoke, and got to work.

The day turned into night, and everything was great. The games were fun, chat was a riot, and you even got raided by one of your favorite mutuals. You ordered some takeout and video-chatted with some friends. You even hopped on the stream again for a double feature. All the darkness from the night before was lifted, and you felt like you might be alright. But, then, just as the sun was setting, you got a text.

donny-Hinge: hey babe. left my charger. can i come by in 15

you: sure

donny-Hinge: k thx

“Ugh!” You audibly exclaimed, forgetting you were still online.

Chat started pouring in with questions and asks about the text. Tell us! They exclaimed. What happened, momma?? They begged to know.

You thought about it for a minute, but you decided that your shitty love life was one thing you weren’t ready to own up to online, so you side-stepped,

“Forgot I had to take a friend to the airport. Gotta cut this short tonight, sorry. Love you guys! Don’t forget to live, laugh, love, like, share, sub!” You rolled your eyes at your own catchphrase and waved goodbye.

You flung down your headset and did a few soothing spins in your computer chair before deciding that you needed to kick this dude to the curb.

“What’s the sluttiest outfit I’ve got so this asshole knows what he’s missing?” You asked Mr. Vain who was sitting outside your bathroom window, looking bored.

“Coachella last year?” You dug around in the drawer and pulled out the too-short, can’t-wear-this-in-public slip dress, looking at Mr. Vain one last time before nodding, “Yeah. Let’s do it.”

You wiggled into the fit, mangled up your hair into a careless rumpled mess, and threw on some eyeliner to top it all off. Then, you waited. You checked your phone. You waited again. You paced. Then, you had a smoke to try and calm your nerves.

You huddled next to Mr. Big’s giant forearm and looked up at his bearded jaws from below,

“Still not real, huh? I could really use a big, scary beast for some support right now. Why does breaking up with losers still feel so shitty? He doesn’t deserve me, right?”

Mr. Big said nothing. He loomed, and nothing more.

“Right,” you whispered, starting to worry about yourself now that you were carrying on multiple daily conversations with statues.

Your door buzzed. Dumbo was here for his charger.

You fixed yourself, checking your eyeliner for just the perfect amount of smudge, and then you cracked open the door. The man was there, looking a little too well-dressed, and he sauntered into your apartment without saying so much as a hello.

“Uh, hi,” you spat.

“Hey, sorry,” he frowned, looking around for the charger under your clothes pile, “Can’t stay. Gonna meet up with the boys at Six Hands tonight.”

“Oh,” you mumbled, feeling a little more than just put out.

“Ah, here it is,” he dragged the charger out from under your desk and wrapped it up.

“I don’t wanna see you again,” you blurted out.

He looked up at you, noticing you for the first time, eyeing your dress and your makeup, furrowing his brow,

“Why not? Didn’t you have fun last night?”

You didn’t like his sly tone,

“No, so just, lose my number, okay?”

“C’mon, baby. Don’t be like that,” he stepped into your space and put your hair behind your ear. You fucking hated when guys tucked your hair behind your ear.

You smacked his hand away,

“Don’t touch me. Just go.”

“Is that why you’re dressed like a fuckin’ slut? You gonna call some other guy up here?” His contempt filled the room, making your alarm bells clatter and peal inside of your head.

“No. Leave! Now.”

“Listen,” he took another step into your space, dragging his finger under the strap of your dress and purposefully letting it fall off of your shoulder, “How about you drop the attitude and let me hit it before I go out, and I’ll come back tonight and we can watch a movie.”

You used both hands to shove him away from you, hating how little he moved backwards,

“Fuck you! Get out of my house.”

“You don’t have to be such a bitch!” He shouted at you, grabbing you around the wrist and knocking you off balance.

Then, all of a sudden, he stopped. His face became even paler than it already was, and he stared out of the window behind you. He scrambled to drop your wrist and bolted for the door, not even bothering to shut it behind him.

“Yeah! You shouted after him, fixing your shoulder strap, “Get the hell out and don’t come back!”

You shut the door and locked the top and bottom deadbolts, upset with yourself for how badly you were shaking.

“What an asshole,” you muttered under your breath as you turned around. Then, you looked up, and that’s when you saw him.

“Mr. Big?!”

The giant, hulking gargoyle that you sat by every night was standing, full height, right outside your window. He used his immense paw to open the window and stepped through it, staring right at you with unnaturally blue eyes. He was still not a human color, but at least he wasn’t made of stone. His flesh was textured, sort of scaled in a way, and hairline cracks that looked like scars covered him like a broken eggshell. His hair and beard were shaggy and brown, and even though he was enormous, he was graceful, tucking his black wings behind his back to keep from knocking over all of your shelves.

“Are you alright, love?” His voice came out like a roaring, tumbling sea, and yet, it was as gentle as a purr.

“I… This… You! You are! You’re… you’re a statue! How…” You backed away from him, and he did not pursue you. He simply stood there, focused on you, patiently letting you figure it out, “You’re Mr. Big, and you’re in my damn house!”

“I am John. We come when our mate calls to us.”

“What? John? No,” you sat on the bed, wrenching your eyes shut, “This isn’t happening. Fuck, I actually am out of my mind. I don’t have insurance. I can’t afford fucking gargoyle visions. Fuck!”

You heard the flutter of wings and your eyes darted up to see Mr. T and Mr. Bones squeezing themselves into your tiny home,

John nodded to them,

“This is Soap and Ghost. Your memories will return to you, my love,” he turned to address them, “Did you find him?”

Ghost let out a dark chuckle full of fire and brimstone,

“Aye, he screamed like a fuckin’ pussy.”

“Who?” You asked, already knowing the answer.

Soap answered you in a surprisingly smooth brogue,

“Your wee suitor, lass. Tried to run, but he couldnae get very far.”

“Did…” You felt your blood rush out of your body, “Did you kill him?”

Ghost, his skin a steely gray with black cracks running across his flesh, his wings a bony ash color and splotched with tears and scars, his eyes an impossible hazel shade, gleaming behind the huge skull mask, stalked over to you, crouching down to look at you closer, studying you. Then, he took his clawed hand and untucked the hair from behind your ear, lifting your locks to his fearsome muzzle to smell your shampoo. He smiled (you weren’t exactly sure if it was a smile or not), and said,

“Would you like me to? Because, right now, he’s hanging off the side of a fuckin’ tanker ship headed for the bloody south Pacific. He’d be easy to capture and –”

“No! No,” you shook your head, “Thank you. That’s… that is a great spot for him. Alive.”

“You must have questions, pet,” a fourth voice spoke over your shoulder, startling you and making you jump out of your skin, “Surely you must remember me; your Gaz, your favorite.”

It was Mr. Vain. The others gave him a glare for his comment, but he did have a way of stealing the show. His skin was a shimmering copper, and golden cracks cut through his flesh. His wings were an iridescent green patina, and his eyes were a deep brown. He was every bit as beautiful in real life as he’d been as a statue, and you had a hard time looking away from him.

“I’m…” You tried to ask something. Anything. You should have questions, right? Normal people would have questions. Finally, you whispered, “What is happening to me?”

John came to crouch beside you, his thick tail curling around his feet, tucking itself out of the way, and he dropped his voice into that deep purr of his,

“You called us here, love. You needed us, and we were awakened. We have listened to your struggles. For years we have kept you safe in this…” He looked around with a frown of disapproval, “... bloody meager estate, waiting for the night you would bring us back to this plane of existence to mate with you and take you home to claim your rightful place on the throne of Evenhold. Your people need you. We need you. You are the last hope for our kind.”

You listened to him and tried your best to keep a straight face,

“You have got to be fucking with me right now. This is not real. You are not real!”

To your shock, instead of doubling down, he looked hurt by your comments. His eyes peered down at you as if he wanted to make you see the truth, like he wanted to convince you of his words, but he held himself back.

Soap came over to you, his pale flesh gleaming like a pearl under the moonlight, the cracks of his skin a cerulean blue, and his wings fading from navy to black at the very tips,

“Bonnie, I ken how it sounds. But, you didnae meet your mother nor your father, aye?”

“No, I grew up with my Grandma Val–”

“Valeria, the Witch of the Four Winds,” Soap confirmed, sitting down beside Ghost, “She protected you until her death. So, you came here, to this city, and –”

“And this apartment… the deal was so good, I couldn’t pass it up,” your brain was reaching around in the dark, looking for the light. It was making your head spin.

“Did you never wonder how you could afford it, lass? Didnae you remember Darkhollow? The River Binn? Everhold Keep? We ran together as rooks through the halls, stealing burchfruit from the ta–”

John cut him off, his eyes studying you in the darkness,

“Enough. Sorcerer Cael stole her memories the same night he fuckin’ murdered the Emperor and the Empress. She knows nothing of home. But, we can help her remember.”

You reached out to him, touching his cheek in such a familiar way, and yet, experiencing it anew,

“How?”

“We will take you as our mate. Through our magic, you can use our memories to rebuild what you’ve lost,” John cupped your hand in his huge paw, bringing it to his fanged mouth, and kissing your palm reverently.

“We know that you have been…” Gaz smirked, “... disappointed by suitors in this realm. But, we will help you remember the kind of mate the Empress of Evenhold deserves.”

“Trust us, lass,” Soap lifted your chin up to look into your face, “We will set things right. We’ll take you home.”

Ghost crawled beside you on the bed, and the mattress dipped beneath his heavy frame,

“You are our guiding star, love. We’ll do whatever you ask of us. If you want us to leave, we fuckin’ will. Just say the word, and you’ll never see us again.”

At his oath, you felt something twist in your heart. No! That was wrong. You belonged together. These were your protectors. You needed them as much as they needed you.

“No. You belong with me,” you said, planting a soft kiss on the side of Ghost’s mask, “Help me remember.”

“We won’t be back here, love. Are you sure you’re ready to go?” John asked you, standing at full height.

The others stood with him, waiting for your word.

You thought about checking your phone, or putting an away message up on your profiles, but what would be the reason? If you wouldn’t be back here, you’d just disappear. You’d fade away from memory just like any other streamer who logged on for the last time and never came back. It happened all the time. Your parents were dead, you didn’t have any family, and your friend would be okay without you. What was keeping you here?

“Let me wash my face, and then we’ll go,” you said, ducking into the bathroom to braid your hair out of your face and wash the eyeliner off of your eyes. You looked at yourself in the mirror, and for the first time in a long while, you enjoyed looking at the person that you saw. You looked brave. You looked ready. You looked like you were about to have the ride of your fuckin’ life.

You slid an extra hair tie around your wrist and met the gargoyle army in your bedroom.

“Okay, I’m ready for the magic mating ritual, I think. Do you wanna do it here, or…”

“No, love,” John chuckled warmly, “We’ll take you to the portal. Your power will ignite the beacon.”

“Where is that?” You asked, feeling a little deflated.

“Far from here. C’mon, love. Need to beat the sun,” John grabbed your waist and held you against his chest. He wrapped his tail around your body protectively, and you watched in horror as the other three dove through the window, spreading their wings out over the midnight fog.

“Oh, fuck. Are we flying there? Holy shit! Wait, wait, wait…”

The next thing you knew, you were sailing through the air, gliding down from your bedroom window and out into the night sky.

“It’s alright, love. Hold onto me,” John chuckled, amused by your panicked response.

“Fuck!” You whispered, burying yourself in John’s broad chest, clutching at his waist as hard as you could.

You could feel the powerful beat of his wings as he gained altitude, the rush of wind subsiding when you emerged above the clouds, and the moon looked as if it hung close enough for you to grab it, bright and glowing in the black sky.

You were breathing in rushed gasps, and you didn’t know if you should laugh or cry. John sensed your distress, and he held you tighter against his warm body.

“Shh,” he pet you gently, and you felt his claws trace delicate lines down your back. For some reason, it lulled you into a dazed state, and you thought you might pass out, “Sleep, pretty girl. I’ve got you.”

A few more minutes went by, and with each delicate pass of his claws, you watched the stars scatter above you, more and more of them coming into your view as you escaped from the city, and you closed your eyes and let your guardian take you away with him.

When you awoke, you were still flying with John, but you were descending on a small hilltop.

“Where are we?” You asked in a low voice.

John pointed below,

“The portal is here. I’ve sent the lads on ahead to prepare the ritual. We won’t beat the dawn unless we hurry.”

“What happens at dawn?”

“We turn to stone. You’ll be left unprotected.”

“Is that what these are?” You asked, tracing the cracked lines in his skin, “From where you broke free?”

“Yes,” John nodded, “We wear them with fuckin’ pride, love. We’re soldiers. It is our duty and our right to be your guardians.”

“In the… At home, do you turn to stone in the sunlight?”

He paused, and you wished you could hear his thoughts, but after a few moments he said,

“No, only here.”

Something about his answer saddened you. You wanted to wipe all of that pain away from his face. You needed to see him in the light of day. To see him happy. You felt so strongly about it, and it made you wish that you had called for him sooner.

“Could you hear me when you were frozen?”

“Yes, love,” he smiled, swooping his wings to land with you on the soft grass, “Every word.”

He placed you down carefully, and as he did, he bent forward, wrapped his wings around you, and kissed you. You leaned into his touch, enveloped in his dark embrace, feeling the bristle of his beard and the fullness of his lips. He tasted like holiday spices and raw honey. His sweetness and heat blending together on your tongue and making you dizzy with want.

“Tryin’ to get a head start, Captain?” Gaz’s voice rang out over your shoulder.

You were unfurled from John’s wings and released from his kiss, but he kept a possessive hand around your waist.

“Captain?” You turned to ask him what that meant.

“We’re soldiers, remember? I’m the Captain of the Imperial Guard. My two sergeants,” he pointed to Gaz and Soap, “and my lieutenant,” he nodded to Ghost.

“C’mere, love,” Ghost pulled you away from John and brought you over to the entrance of a large cave.

The mouth of the cave was hidden behind vines and overgrowth, but you could barely make out the ancient carvings that were etched into the side of the round entrance.

“This is the portal, lass. Your magic opens the door, and we can go home.”

“I don’t know how to do magic,” you looked at him for help.

“We’ll show you. Let us help you remember, love,” John purred darkly behind you, joining you on the side opposite Ghost, taking your hand and guiding you into the cave.

Once inside, you saw a large, flat altar, carved with runes and symbols, and all along the back wall of the cave were huge scenes of war and destruction, patterned in gold and silver and bronze etchings. In the images, you saw hordes of gargoyles fighting against an evil wizard who carried a long staff and cast fiery spells across villages and castles, destroying everything in his path.

But, you couldn’t dwell on the images for long. Your warriors had other plans. John guided you to his arms once more, kissing you chastely this time, before untying his loincloth and revealing his unbelievable cock.

When he saw the look on your face, his mouth stretched into a smug grin, and he pumped his wings, proudly beating them once and then twice to stir the air in the large cave, purring deep inside his chest.

His dick wasn’t just large. It was impossible. There was no way that thing was going to fit inside of you without some sort of feat of strength. As the others disrobed, standing beside their leader, you saw how much of a challenge this venture truly was.

Their cockheads were covered in layers of foreskin that lay across their head like the petals of a flower. They were thin and smooth, and it made the tip of their dick look like the head of a blooming rose. John had more petals than the others, while Gaz had only three or four, but his were large, like a drooping magnolia, hiding the fist-sized glans underneath.

The shaft of John’s cock was studded with smooth, marble-like protrusions, which, as he rubbed his hand over them, swelled and leaked, producing his own lubricant for him as he worked his phallus to a high, glossy shine. On the underside of the body, two soft bands of flesh hung down like lips on a mouth, creating a flared feature along the base of his cock.

At the root of his shaft, John had a bulging, pulsing knot. It looked like it was throbbing with its own heartbeat, and it wrapped itself around his entire girthy base, making your mouth water.

Their physiology was as unique as it was inhuman. Gaz only had three marble protrusions, none of the soft bands on his undercarriage, but a hefty, engorged knot. Ghost’s cock was board-straight, covered in a chaotic mess of marble bumps, making his whole prick drip and drool onto the cave floor without him even needing to touch it.

Soap was the only one who had pulled his petals down over his blunt cockhead to reveal it to you. It was bright pink and swollen, looking every bit like a smooth, silky peach. The large slit in the center held a bead of precome, ready to be smeared across either of your lips. His shaft was curved like a bow, and you noticed that the flared flesh at his base looked like a plush bed of fox coral, bending and furling like fine lace on the hem of a dress.

“Our mate is pleased,” Gaz noted, sniffing the air and licking his fangs with a skillful tongue.

You made your way over to John, eyeing Gaz as he tugged on his giant ballsack, fondling his heavy pearls and comforting himself as he admired you. John was breathing hard, his belly filling with air, his rolling purr growing louder as you got closer to him.

You knelt on the soft dirt floor of the cave and began to lick and suck at the knot on the base of John’s cock. He growled, flapping his wings with excitement,

“No, love,” he peered down at you, “Let us care for you.”

“I want to taste you,” you looked at the other beasts circling around you, casting long shadows over you with the shuddering wings, “All of you.”

“Your wish is our command, Empress,” Ghost snarled, fisting his cock in his claws and presenting it to you like a treat.

You used both of your hands to rub his shaft, letting his silky lube collect in your palms and drip down your wrists. You began prying his soft petals apart with the tip of your tongue, discovering how sensitive they were. By the time you found his head, he was drooling wet for you, filling the center of his flower with clear, shining precome. You drank from him, sucking the sticky fluid like nectar from a buttercup, sighing when you found it sweet.

John chuffed, impatient with his lieutenant for cutting the line, and you looked up at him and smiled, showing him your tongue as it dripped with Ghost’s wet promises. Then, you brought your attention back to your biggest guardian, taking care to use both hands to roll the flesh of his shaft up and down the hefty appendage. You let your thumb dip into his furled folds that ran along his base, and he hissed, instinctively using his paw to cradle the back of your head and encourage you further.

You obeyed his silent command, using your lips to kiss inside of his crown of closed petals, slurping and drinking the sweet gift you discovered inside. As you kissed his cockhead, the fleshy flower surrounding his tip tickled your lips and nose and chin, spreading their honey over your whole face, coating you in him and his heady scent.

Gaz reached down to touch your breast inside your dress, his huge claws tickling over the smoothness of your skin, making you gasp.

“So fuckin’ bonnie, innit she?” Soap admired you, taking position on the other side to fondle and feel your other heavy teat, using his claws to draw aching spirals all the way up to your nipple.

You were fully suckling on John’s wide head, now. He was pouring clear, shining precome down your throat, and you were swallowing it into your belly as if it were his come. Then, Gaz took you from him, guiding your chin over to his hanging prick, smiling at you as you nuzzled it, handsfree, into your lips. His wide petals covered most of your face, spreading his slick over your cheeks and down your throat, sticking themselves to your skin. Then, Johnny took your hand and held it in his own, making you rub his curved length until he was trembling for you. You took turns sucking from them both, realizing that the more you sucked, the more delicious fluid they made.

John petted your hair lovingly, drawing your attention away from his soldiers and back to him. You looked into his glowing blue eyes, mesmerized by his magic, and gave him your best doe-eyed face, hoping your hunter would take his shot.

“The sun is nearly here, Empress. There will be plenty of nights to play together ahead of us, but we must open the portal.”

You rose to your feet, shocked by how small you were compared to the monsters that surrounded you, and let John lead you to the altar. He lifted you up and knelt down in front of you, using his long, blue tongue to lick his way up the side of your thigh. When he found your heat, his chest shook with a stifled roar, and he grabbed your hips in his paws to crush you to his face. Ghost stood beside him, peeling off your black slip dress to make you naked, and he and Gaz held your legs wide for their captain. Soap crawled upon the altar to feed his tongue into your mouth, fucking your throat in long, gentle licks just as John stuffed his into your warm pussy.

Ghost and Gaz suckled from your breasts, pulling and plucking at your nipples in deep, vacuumed mouthfuls, making you feel like you were being eaten alive from the inside and the outside of your whole body. Your orgasm hit your body before your mind registered that you were coming. You jerked, arching your back and screaming out from the base of your throat, begging for mercy.

Your gargoyles pet you with their claws in that same, somnolent way that John had while you were flying, and you felt yourself relax into your orgasm, riding it out in long, suffocating waves.

“You are so tight, love,” John looked up from his eating, his eyes full of worry, “We’ll try to be gentle with you, but you will need many nights of training before you can carry our rooks. Your body will learn from us, in time. For now, your memories are all that matter.”

He stood, and the other gargoyles held you tightly, supporting you on the altar. John huffed out a long breath, spread his wings wide, and stepped forward to mount you.

You watched his cock’s petals as they collided with your own, spreading himself all over you like a brush full of paint. He focused on your hole, smearing his hot precome as generously as he could. Then, he began to press forward.

“Holy fuck! I can’t take it! I can’t… John… it’s not… mngh! Ohhhh…” You cried out in agony and then melted into a quiet bliss.

As he entered you, the other three pet you with their paws, soothing you and helping you catch your breath.

Then, when you took his entire head, he rested at your entrance, waiting for you to come back around.

“John, what the fuck? I’m not built for your dick. How…?” You looked up at him, pleading for some relief.

“You’re doing so good for us, love,” Gaz licked and kissed your neck and breast, suckling on you to calm you down.

“You can take him,” Ghost held your hand, “His musk will open you up for us. Look at how it’s swelling your pussy, sweetheart.”

You looked down at yourself, and you saw that Ghost was right. Your pussy was creamy and puffy, soaking in John’s fluids, his musk, and it was helping you relax for him. John stepped forward, slipping in another inch or so, fitting his bent petals through your entrance. Then, with each grueling thrust, you felt the line of marble nodes press against your walls, secreting their lubricant all over your walls and making you drip onto the altar.

“So good for me,” John groaned, holding your breasts in his hands, stealing them away from Gaz and Soap, squeezing them hard enough to leave pinprick marks with his talons.

“Anhh– John! I’m…”

“Yes, come again, love. Come for me, remember me…”

Your mind was flung through space and time, spinning and feeding you a chaotic string of memories that didn’t seem like your own. You tasted food and drink you’d never tried, you sang songs you didn’t know, ran full speed across fields full of flowers you’d never smelled. It was maddening, watching you live a life you’d never had. Then, there they were, your four gargoyles, pledging their loyalty to you and your parents, vowing to be your protectors. But, just as your heart filled with hope, there was a great black fire that roared through the halls of your keep, burning the people you loved, destroying the peace in your realm. The Dark Sorcerer, Cael.

John was pounding away at your body now, and you were shivering from the heightened pleasure. How long had you been out? Your belly felt full of him, and you could see the outline of his shaft as he shoved himself through you, fucking you nearly up into your ribs. You reached down and cradled him outside of your belly, and he moaned from your touch, his heavy balls slapping against your ass in a punishing, deafening rhythm.

Then, you saw John beat his wings again, fighting with his own pleasure. He speared you fully, sealing himself inside of you, and it was at that point that you felt the curling, pulsing pressure of his knot.

“John… I’m not… I can’t…” You could barely keep your eyes open.

He gathered you up in his arms, wrapping you tight to his chest, and hugged you to his scalding, scaled flesh. When he breathed against you, his chest filled your space, and you could feel the tremors racking his body. He folded his wings around you, enclosing you in his protective embrace, hiding you in his darkness, and lowered you with his steady, inhuman power onto his throbbing knot.

Your scream was silent as your breath caught in your throat. You’d been shattered, thrown with supernatural might into a bursting orgasm, forced to come hard onto his swollen, beating shaft.

He was coming, too, and it filled your walls, making your belly hang heavy with fertile, gargoyle seed. John roared, thrusting himself up into you to grind his knot within your hole, churning his cream within you, and soaking your womb in his come.

John sighed, bending his neck to kiss your open mouth, petting you with his paws, rubbing his cock through your abdomen with his thumbs. His come moved inside of you as he did so, and you were so stuffed with his hot spend, the moment he began to unseal himself, it sprayed out of you and onto his cock, legs, and the floor of the chamber, turning the dirt to mud. You were gaping wide, dripping in his come, and trembling from brain-breaking orgasms. He didn’t look much better. He was spent, sitting on the ground of the cave, breathing hard and fast.

But, you couldn’t think about aftercare. Ghost took his place as soon as it was available, stepping through the muddy, semen-soaked floor without so much as a second glance. His dick was covered in his musk and he used it to rub it all over your clit, arching his back to paint your nipples with it as well, painting long lines of his scent all over your chest, belly, and legs. Satisfied, he notched himself at your entrance and spread your walls wide again, guiding himself deep inside of you.

You hissed in sweet agony, and he smiled down at you knowingly,

“You’re taking me so well. My tight little quim. So perfect. How I missed you, lover.”

John was standing again, and he came to help Ghost hold you in place as he pounded himself into you with long, agonizing strokes. You were glad he was there because your whole body was limp. You hung off the side of the pedestal like a ragdoll, letting Ghost rail himself into you, his studded shaft rolling orgasm after orgasm through your nerves, forcing you to come one after the other, just an endless parade of pleasure. Your mouth was open, and Gaz was suckling on your lips and tongue while Soap devoured your breasts, pinching and biting and slurping to his heart’s content.

John put his paw on your belly, feeling how Simon was protruding out of your flesh, heavy and built to last, His knot smaller but harder than John’s.

“Remember, love. C’mon, try to reach deeper,” you keened, feeling hot tears rush out of your eyes and down your cheeks as Gaz devoured your tongue. Then, you were transported again, back to your dear Evenhold. You were locked in a battle, controlling your magic and trying to crack a portal. You didn’t have a clear destination, but you found one all the same. Finally, your opponent, Cael, made a misstep. He tried to cast a sealing spell on you, but you deflected it, casting it on your devoted warriors instead, watching them tumble into the portal, wrought in dark stone. You felt yourself scream, and you killed the sorcerer, leaping into the portal to save the heroes you loved.

But, something had gone wrong. Time, fickle and flowing, warped itself, wrapping around your magic and flinging you back through time. You were a child again, and you were alone.

The look of despair on your face told Ghost everything he needed to know,

“She remembers. It’s working. Fuck! Take all of me, love. Come back to us!”

He slammed his knot inside of you and stretched his wings out wide and straight, his whole body vibrating with his energy, the enormous cock inside your core jerked and drooled come all over your walls, drowning itself in your tight, swollen hole.

When he popped his knot out of you, he held it to your pussy like a gate, encouraging the come he’d left behind to settle in your belly instead of spilling onto the ground. It worked poorly; there was just too much of it, but you felt fuller than before, and you knew your womb was carrying their seed deep within you.

“Hurry, Soap,” John stretched his claws, showing his discomfort, “Dawn.”

Soap took his place between your legs and struggled with his tip. You were pliant and soft for him, but it still wasn’t enough.

“Turn her,” he grunted, and your protectors followed his command, flipping your body over so that you could be on all fours for him.

He spread his musk over your hole, using his paws and cock in unison, trying his best to prepare you for his cock’s sinister curve, but it was no use.

“Just… take me, Soap. Please… I need to know…” You whined, just under your breath, preparing yourself for the ache of being stretched by him.

“Bonnie, I willnae hurt you. Give me a moment t–”

“Now,” you insisted, spreading yourself wide for him, “It has to be now.”

He sighed, and he put his wings around you instinctively, wanting to protect you from the pain and not knowing how. Soap slipped forward, and his cockhead caught in your inner ring of muscles, stuck, oozing its precome into your hole. He was afraid to press forward, unwilling to injure his mate, fearful of what he might do to you.

So, you fucked him. You leaned back, pressing your cunt down onto his tip, feeling every hard inch as you did so, prying yourself open like a stone fruit, using his prick to cleave your body. Thankfully, he was not as thick as John nor as long as Ghost, but he was a challenge for the entire ride. Every single thrust felt like a damn marathon, and he was shaped in such a way that your delicate g-spot was bullied into a wet, body-shaking submission.

You never stopped coming on Soap, but you didn’t remember starting either. He erased your mind and filled it with him, only him, and you slipped into his memories as easily as a warm bath, letting him drown you in his slick affection.

You saw yourself as a child, running through the keep, chasing Soap, a mischievous rook, letting him fly you onto the feast table to steal fruits and berries from the bowls, screeching as the cooks chased you from them, laughing and tumbling and rolling into the garden where you shared them together, ripping off ripe, sweet lobes, and fighting over the last bites.

Then, he was a young man. Younger than he was now, but every bit as handsome. None of his blue cracks were there to mar his pearlescent skin, and you marveled at his beauty. He flew with you to your secret spot, high in the white, chalk cliffs of Evenhold, overlooking the sea. He said nothing, but you understood everything in that moment.

The crash of the waves mimicked his rough fucking, and the lightning strike of another pleasure-filled crescendo slammed you back to the present, letting you watch him groan and stretch and fly with your body, pulling you from the altar into the air, clutching you around your throat and belly with his long tail in a deep embrace, trapping you on his knot and using his hands to milk himself into you, squeezing his root like a summer fruit, giving you every last drop.

His wings faltered, and his body went limp, and he lay you on the altar as gently as he could before collapsing on the ground of the cave, eyes shut and trembling.

Gaz mounted you, grabbing your hips and dragging you toward him. You looked down as he held your legs open, using his tail to protect your head from the rough platform. Then, he slipped into you with a gentleness you were not expecting due to his size. You thought you had finally been stretched to the point of comfort, worried about the state of yourself, but it was just an illusion. Once he impaled you past his enormous head, the petals folded back and his fat prick began to struggle within you. But, unlike Soap, he did not hold himself back. He knew you were close to the answer, and he needed to give it to you.

You both stared down at your swollen belly, full of come and beginning to fill with his shape. Gaz took your hand and placed it just above your womb, and moaned, grunting at you,

“Hold me here, love. Feel me… here…”

You tried to obey, but doing so made all of the sensations inside of you that much more intense. You could feel every petal, every ridge, every slippery marble node, the furl of his flesh and the impossibly thick length of his phallus, all of it working inside of you, right below your palm.

“Press…” He begged, his brown eyes soft and pleading.

So, you did, and you made yourself start to come. It was too beautiful of a feeling. You could sense every twitch and pulse and slip of his cock inside of you, feeling it with your walls as if you would your hands, squeezing him within you like a hilt to its blade, wielding him like a weapon.

You tipped over the edge, falling into another dream, but this time, it was a place you recognized. You were with Valeria, young again, just a child, and you watched her close the portal, making the runes with her hands, and sealing off the world of Darmoch, Evenhold, and everything you’d ever known.

Then, she cast a spell over your guardians, releasing them from their stone prisons, but at a price. Their skin splintered and cracked, and the stone cut awful shapes in their flesh, burning them with permanent scars. You wanted to help them, but you were slowly forgetting their faces. Things were fading away, and Valeria was the only one who knew how to help you.

You opened your eyes, clutching Gaz’s long dick within you in both of your hands, massaging him with deep affection and adoration. You looked up at him and said,

“I remember everything.”

He smiled, leaning forward to kiss your mouth, nuzzling your nose with his own snout, minding his tusks and groaning for you,

“Mmm, of course you do, my love. I knew you would.”

Gaz took a sharp breath and rolled his knot into you, emptying himself inside like the others, making you warm, full, and knowing the most perfect love. It was written all over your soul, your promise to them, their vow to you, the ancient oath to protect you and to follow your command until the end of days.

When he pulled away, stumbling back and catching himself on the cave wall, you knew your destiny. You rose to your feet, ignoring the aches of your humanity, casting aside your doubt. You pulled your guardians close to you, putting their hands on your arms and shoulders, and just as the pink dawn began to crest over the horizon, you said,

“Hold on to me. We’re going home.”

Don't look at me like that. Y'all knew I was out of my mind before you even started reading this fic. C'mon, now.

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