#tfm.

[d1stalker]

The Feeling's Mutual | Part One

[Logan Howlett x Mutant!Reader]

Summary: If somebody told you a week ago that you were a mutant, being stalked, and would be teaming up with an annoying, grumbly bastard, you probably would have laughed in their face. Too bad that was last week, because here you are, in that very situation, wondering how in the world things escalated so quickly.

PART TWO PART THREE FINAL PART

Warnings: fem!reader, canon-level violence, reluctant alliance, bickering, not exactly enemies-to-lovers but they don't rly get along, it's gonna be a slow burn y'all WC: 5.7k - MASTERLIST - A/N: If you saw me post this earlier, no you didn't 🤫 i added more hehe

You’ve never been so confused in your entire life.

It all started last week—when you were walking to the grocery store. Just an ordinary day, nothing special about it. You had a list in your hand, some cash in your pocket, and thoughts of what to cook for dinner running through your mind. The route you took had you winding down the usual streets of your neighbourhood, and that’s when you noticed him.

Something about him was different, but you couldn’t quite place your finger on what it was that made you think that. Perhaps it was the way his eyes followed you, stalking you, like a predator its prey.

At first, you thought it might be a coincidence. Maybe he was just another person going about his day, heading in the same direction as you. People share paths all the time; there was no reason to suspect anything sinister, right? But as you continued walking, a nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach told you something was off. You decided to test it, making a sudden turn down a side street, one you usually never take.

The street was quieter, less foot traffic, and the late afternoon shadows were starting to stretch across the pavement. You glanced over your shoulder, and there he was, still a few steps behind, his gaze remaining locked onto you with a focus that sent a shiver down your spine. Quickening your pace, you felt an almost paralyzing fear.

This wasn’t just a shared route. 

The more you turned, the more you weaved through unfamiliar streets, the more persistent he became. He never faltered, never hesitated, always keeping just close enough to let you know he was there.

Finally, you reached the store, breathing in short, panicked gasps, your eyes flitting around. You ducked inside, hiding the fluorescent lights and bustling aisles. You tried to calm yourself, telling yourself it was nothing, that you were being paranoid. After all, what were the odds? Maybe he’d walk past, maybe he wasn’t even following you. You spent longer than usual picking up items you didn’t need, giving him time to disappear. 

But when you walked back outside, bags in hand, you saw him again. He wasn’t right at the door, but still, close enough—across the street, half-hidden in the shadow of another building, watching. His eyes locked with yours once more, and you froze, the plastic handles of the grocery bags digging into your palms as your grip tightened in fear. He didn’t move, didn’t smile or sneer, just stood there, silent.

You rushed home, not even bothering to see if he was tracking you down, too scared to find out the answer. Your mind was racing with a million thoughts. Who was he? What did he want? You didn’t sleep much that night, jumping at every creak and groan the apartment made, the image of that man’s cold stare burned into your mind.

The next day, you told yourself it was nothing, a one-time thing, just some creep who had too much time on his hands. A pervert, possibly. 

But happened again. A different man this time, but with the same unnerving intensity. He followed you the same way, mute and relentless, through the streets, to the store, and back home.

Then the day after that, and that, and that. They didn’t approach you directly, just followed, watched, waited. It was like a game, one that you didn’t know the rules to, and the stakes felt like they were getting higher and higher and more time passed. Whenever you stepped outside, you felt their eyes on you, felt their presence lurking just out of sight. It was terrifying.

The fear gnawed at you, growing with each passing day, until it became impossible to ignore. You started taking different routes, avoiding your usual stores, changing your routine as much as you could. Still, no matter what you did, they always found you.

Soon it changed—no longer just silent stalking. One night, as you were walking home, one of the men stepped out from the shadows and blocked your path. His presence was oppressive, the way he stood there, so still, so certain of his power over you. You had no idea what he wanted, but you knew it whatever it was, it wasn’t good.

“Why are you following me?” you demanded, trying to muster up all the courage you could, voice shaking slightly despite your attempt to sound strong.

“Because we were told to,” the man said, his voice cold and emotionless. There was no malice, no pleasure in his words, just a chilling matter-of-factness. “You’re coming with us.”

Panic surged through you, a primal instinct to run, to fight, to do anything but comply. You refused to show it, refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing your fear. 

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” you spat back, hoping your defiance would be enough to make him reconsider.

His eyes narrowed, a dangerous glint flashing in them, and before you could react, he lunged at you, his fist swinging with brutal intent. Time seemed to slow as you saw the blow coming, your mind racing, but your body moving almost on instinct. You raised your arms to defend yourself, bracing for the crushing impact that would follow.

You couldn’t explain what happened next. When his fist connected with your arm, the force that should have sent you to the ground, left you unscathed. Instead, it was the man who staggered back, a look of shock and pain twisting his features. He clutched his hand, wincing as if he had struck something far harder than just flesh and bone.

You stared at him, bewildered, before glancing down at your own arm in disbelief. There was no pain, no bruise, nothing to indicate that you’d just been hit. It was as if his attack had bounced off of you, like you were made of steel.

Had you really just blocked that hit? And why did it feel like… nothing?

Before you could process what had happened, before the realization could fully take root, another man appeared out of nowhere, moving with a speed that blurred the edges of his form. Mutant. He was faster than the first, more determined, and this time, you felt your heart stop as he came at you from behind, his hands outstretched to grab you.

But something in you reacted faster than your fear. You twisted out of his grip with lightning speed, with movements so fluid and precise, it was as if your body knew exactly what to do, even if your brain was struggling to keep up. You sidestepped his attack, narrowly avoiding his grasp, and found yourself behind him, safe for the moment.

“What the hell?” you muttered under your breath, your heart pounding in your chest. How did you move like that? How had you known where to go, how to dodge?

There was no time to dwell on it. The fight intensified in an instant, the two men coming at you one after another, relentless in their assault. They weren’t holding back, and suddenly neither were you. You moved like a force of nature, dodging their attacks, striking back when you could. Each punch you threw landed with a power that surprised even you. You watched in stunned disbelief as one of the men crumpled to the ground after a single blow, his eyes rolling back as if he’d been hit by a truck.

You are not a gym regular. In fact, you hadn’t worked out in weeks. You weren’t strong, not like this. So how was it possible that your punches were so devastating, that each one seemed to carry a weight far beyond what you’d ever imagined?

Then, with a flick of his wrist, the first mutant, conjured a ball of fire in his hand, the flames crackling and roaring, craving something to burn. He hurled it at you, the fireball spinning through the air with only one target in mind. 

You barely had time to scream as the flames engulfed your arm, the searing heat burning through your skin. The pain was unbearable, a white-hot agony that made you gasp and stumble back. You expected to see your skin blackened, blistered, ruined.

And it was.

For a minute. 

To your shock—or horror—you looked down, breath catching in your throat as you watched the burn heal right before your eyes. The charred skin knitted back together in seconds, smooth and unblemished, as if nothing had happened at all.

What the fuck? 

It was in that moment that the truth hit you, like a thunderclap in your mind. You weren’t just an ordinary person caught in a nightmare. You were a mutant, with powers that had only now revealed themselves, right when you needed them most.

The men kept coming, but now you fought with a new understanding. Each punch, each dodge, each rapid movement felt more controlled, more intentional, your gym class self-defence courses coming in clutch. You were strong, faster than you’d ever been, and you could heal—regenerate from injuries that would have left others incapacitated.

Finally, the two men laid groaning on the ground, defeated. You stood there, panting, your mind spinning as you tried to make sense of it all. Super strength, super speed, regeneration… these powers, they were yours. And they had just saved your life.

But as the adrenaline began to fade, confusion set in. What did these men want with you? Why had they gone to such lengths to provoke you? To make you discover what you were capable of? 

All you knew was that one thing was clear: this was far from over. Whoever had sent these men wouldn’t stop here. They knew what you were now, and that meant they’d come after you again. You weren’t just an ordinary person anymore. You were something else, something powerful. And that put a target on your back. 

Whatever was coming next, you needed to be ready.

----

That’s how you found yourself here, one week later, crouched on the apartment rooftop, the cold wind nipping at your exposed skin. The dark streets below are eerily silent, save for the distant hum of traffic. You sense them before you see them—another group of male mutants, closing in on your position. You grip the hilt of your knife tighter, feeling the now-familiar twinge of anger and frustration settle in your chest. This is the fifth group tonight. They’ve been hunting you in groups for days now, their numbers increasing as each one goes by, and you’re tired of it. 

You’ve started to get used to your new powers—testing your limits, pushing yourself harder with each confrontation. What started as simple self-defence, a punch here, a dodge there, has escalated into something far more lethal.

You didn’t want to kill, didn’t want to by use your sharpest kitchen knife (your only kitchen knife) as a weapon, but as the attacks became more violent, you found yourself with little to no choice. 

These mutants weren’t holding back, and neither could you.

Within a week, you went from the most average person in the world to what some people might call a vigilante—except you're really only trying to save your own skin.

Leaping off the roof, you land silently behind them. The speed at which you move is almost dizzying, your body a blur as you close the distance in the blink of an eye. 

“Looking for someone?” you call out sarcastically.

They turn, eyes widening in surprise, but you’re already moving. Your blade sings through the air, striking true, as you move like a shadow, taking them down one by one. It’s not easy—these guys are tough—but you’ve become tougher. With each strike, you can feel your strength surging, far beyond what should be possible. One of the mutants tries to block you, creating a forcefield, but you grab the edges before it can fully form, and break through it, the temporary pain vanishing as quick as it came. A solid kick to his face, and he crumples to the ground, unconscious before he even realizes it.

“Is this what you wanted?!” you shout, your voice echoing through the empty street as the last attacker falls to the ground, groaning in pain. “Is this what you came for?!”

The answer doesn’t come from them. Rather, it comes from a low growl behind you. 

You whirl around, heart racing, and there he is—Logan Howlett—the Wolverine himself. The man you’ve read about in every article, every piece of mutant-related news you could get your hands on since discovering your own abilities. He’s infamous, pretty much a legend, and the stories about him are as terrifying as they are fascinating.

Standing there with that scowl on his face, he looks every bit the dangerous figure you’ve imagined. His eyes are blank, calculating, and you can feel the weight of his gaze as it sizes you up. There’s a tension in the air, thick and suffocating, as he takes a step closer.

“So, you’re the one causing all this trouble,” Logan states gruffly, irritation coating his tongue. He unsheathes his claws, the adamantium glimmering under the streetlights. The sound is unmistakable, and it sends shivers down your spine. “Heard you’ve been killin’ off mutants left and right.”

You narrow your eyes, instinctively stepping back into a defensive stance. Your heart is pounding, but you can't show any weakness. 

“Funny, I thought the same about you, Wolverine. What’s the matter? Run out of bad guys to play hero with?”

Without warning, he charges at you, claws outstretched, but you’re ready. You dart to the side, your speed giving you an edge as his claws slice through the air where you’d been standing, making a woosh sound. You counter with a swift kick to his ribs, putting your enhanced strength into the blow. He grunts, stumbling slightly, but quickly regains his balance. The momentary advantage you gained is gone as he storms toward you once more.

You meet his attacks head-on, your blade clashing with his claws in a shower of sparks. The force of each impact reverberates through your arms, but you hold your ground, refusing to back down. His attacks are ferocious, a whirlwind of claws and fury. He's fast, but you’re faster, dodging and weaving with a precision that keeps you just out of reach.

“Look, sweetheart,” he growls between strikes, his frustration evident. “You can make this easy or hard. I don’t care which, but I’m not lettin’ you hurt anyone else.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes as you deflect another swipe of his claws. “Oh, please. You think I’m the bad guy here? These jerks have been coming after me for days. I’m just defending myself.”

Logan doesn’t look convinced, and that pisses you off more than anything. “Right. And I’m supposed to believe you, why? You’re leavin’ a trail of bodies behind you.”

You narrow your eyes, feeling the anger boil over. “Because I’m not the one who started this! They did! But of course, you wouldn’t know that, would you? You just show up, swinging your claws around like you’re the big savior.”

“You got a mouth on you, don’t ya?” He retorts, snarling as he charges at you again, faster this time. You barely have time to block his attack, the force of his blow sending you skidding back several feet. But you dig your heels in, refusing to give an inch as he continues plows forward. Your speed kicks in, allowing you to duck under his next swing and land a punch to his jaw.

He staggers, but quickly recovers, swiping at you with renewed fury. You're a bit sloppy compared to him, not as much of a seasoned fighter. His claws swipe at your arm, cutting deep and drawing blood, but the wound heals almost instantly, the skin closing up as if it had never been cut. You see the flicker of surprise in his eyes, but it doesn’t slow him down. He lunges again, becoming a blur of motion as he ups the ante.

You parry with your knife, but this time, you’re on the offensive. You launch a rapid series of attacks, your speed and strength managing to drive him back. In the rush of movement, you're able to see an opening, grasping his shoulder and shoving him hard, sending him crashing into a nearby wall. The impact is enough to crack the brick, but Logan just shakes it off, pushing himself back to his feet.

“Gotta say,” you huff, panting slightly from the exertion, “I’m a little disappointed. I expected more from the you, after all I’ve heard.”

Logan grunts, clearly fed up with the banter. “I'm done talking.”

He lunges at you again, and this time, it’s a battle of wills as much as it is of skill. You don't back down, your knife clashing with his claws in a series of rapid, brutal strikes. The alleyway becomes a blur of movement, metal against metal, strength against strength. Each time his claws find their mark, your regenerative abilities kick in, healing the wounds almost as quickly as they’re made. 

And for a moment, you wonder if you’ll have to kill him too, just to survive. But then something shifts. Maybe it’s the way your attacks grow weaker, less lethal. Or maybe it’s the way Logan’s eyes narrow in realization when he notices your hesitance.

“Wait a damn minute,” Logan says, stepping back just out of your reach, wiping his mouth, then spitting on the ground. He’s breathing hard, just like you. “You’re holdin’ back.”

He pauses, his eyes narrowing as they flick down to the knife you’ve been holding, and then back up to you. His expression shifts, a mix of disbelief and exasperation crossing his face. “And is that a kitchen knife?”

You glance down at the knife in your hand, realizing how absurd it must look in the middle of this intense fight. It’s not exactly standard combat gear, but it’s all you had when this started. You can’t help the smirk that pulls at your lips as you meet his gaze again.

“It gets the job done,” you quip, shrugging slightly.

He shakes his head, clearly not impressed. “You’re something else, you know that?”

“I'm choosing to take that as a compliment,” The sarcasm is practically oozing off of you.

He eyes you warily, his posture still tense. “You’re not makin’ this easy, you know. You got me here thinkin’ you’re some crazed mutant killer, but you’re just a girl wavin’ around a kitchen knife like you’re in a bad horror movie.”

You cross your arms. “Well, I didn’t exactly have time to hit up a weapons store. Besides, I didn’t ask for any of this. These guys came after me first.”

Logan studies you. “So you say. But you’re killing dozens of mutants. Doesn’t exactly scream ‘innocent.’”

“Trust me, if I had a choice, I wouldn’t be doing this–fighting… killing–at all. Hell, I didn’t even know I was a mutant until some guy swung his fist at me a week ago.” You meet his gaze, challenging him. “And what about you? You’re not exactly known for playing nice.”

He snorts. “Yeah, well, most of my casualties are from the missions I go on, so I'd say it's justified.”

Your eyes narrow, catching the implication in his words. “Oh, am I your mission now? How long have you been tracking me?”

Logan’s expression doesn’t change, but there’s a slight shift in his posture, a subtle acknowledgment that you’ve hit on something. “Long enough to know you’re not just some innocent bystander caught up in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“So, what? You’ve been watching me, waiting for me to screw up so you could take me down?” you demand, the frustration clear in your voice.

“Something like that,” he replies gruffly, “But from what I’ve seen, you’re more reactive than proactive," he looks you up and down. "I can’t seem figure out if you’re the real threat here, or just someone caught in the middle of a bigger mess.”

You let out a slow breath, trying to calm the fiery anger rising within you. “I told you, I didn’t start this. They did. I’m just trying to survive.”

He doesn’t respond immediately, teeth grinding as he considers your words. You can see the gears turning in his head, trying to piece together whether you’re telling the truth or just playing him. He takes a step closer, his claws still out but not as threatening as before.

Finally, he asks, “You got a name?”

You roll your eyes, exasperated. “No shit I have a name.”

Logan huffs, unimpressed by your attitude. “Well, if you’re not gonna tell me, I’m just gonna have to call you somethin’… How 'bout Knifey?”

You stare at him, half-expecting him to crack a smile, but he’s dead serious. “Knifey? Really?”

Logan shrugs, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he eyes your weapon of choice again. “Fits, don’t you think?”

“Fine. I’ll tell you my name, alright? Anything but Knifey.” You say, trying not to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

“... Gotta say, Knifey sounds a little better”

“Shut the fuck up, Wolverine”

“It’s Logan, actually.”

You release a deep sigh. “I know, and I don’t care. I’m telling you I am not the one you need to be going after.”

Logan scoffs, crossing his arms. “I’ve been around a long time. Seen my fair share of people who think they’re doin’ the right thing and end up doin’ a hell of a lot of damage. So, forgive me if I’m a little skeptical.”

“You would know a lot about that, wouldn’t you?” The words come out of your mouth before you had time to think about them, and you regret it immediately. You can see the mutant in front of you’s face darken to a degree bordering murderous, and you think you’ve crossed a line you can’t come back from. Whatever playful banter existed before this is gone.

“Careful,” He growls menacingly, “You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

You swallow hard. The Wolverine is infamous for a reason, and you just poked at the beast beneath the surface. You briefly consider backing down, but your pride refuses to let you.

“Maybe I don’t,” you admit, “But I do know what it’s like to be hunted, to have no choice but to fight back. So yeah, maybe we’re more alike than you think.”

Logan’s glare softens just a fraction, and he lets out a long, frustrated breath. “You really don’t know when to shut up, do ya?”

“Not when I’m trying to make a point,” you retort.

He doesn’t respond immediately, just stares at you, as if he’s trying to decide whether to continue this conversation or end it with his claws. Ultimately, he shakes his head, the anger in his eyes dimming, replaced by something more akin to weary resignation.

“Fine,” he mutters. “Maybe you’re not the one I should be takin’ down. Doesn’t mean I’m gonna start trustin’ you.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” you reply, feeling a bit of relief that the situation isn’t about to escalate into another fight. “But I swear, there’s someone else out there pulling the strings. And I’m not sticking around to be their puppet.”

He nods slowly, crossing his arms again. “We’ll find out who’s behind this, but I’m callin’ the shots. You step outta line, and we’re gonna have a problem.”

You smirk, a little of your bravado returning. “I’ll try not to disappoint you, Logan.”

You can tell he doesn't appreciate your attitude, but he lets it slide. “Let’s get one thing straight. This ain’t a partnership. I’m doin’ this to figure out what the hell’s goin’ on, not because I like you.”

“Trust me, the feeling’s mutual,” you shoot back, though there’s no real heat behind your words.

Logan turns abruptly, not even bothering to beckon you with him.

It makes you roll your eyes but you fall in step beside him anyway, knowing that despite the rocky start, this uneasy alliance might be the only thing keeping you alive. 

“…So… where exactly are we going?”

He sends you a sidelong glance. "Who said I’m takin’ you anywhere?"

You throw your hands up, exasperated. "Well, if you don’t, these mutants are going to keep hunting me, and I’m going to keep killing them…” you shoot him a look, batting your eyelashes innocently. “You wouldn't want that, would you?"

“Fuck off”

"Well, too late for that now."

He grumbles something under his breath that you don’t quite catch, but it sounds a lot like cursing his bad luck.

"We’re headin’ to my place. It’s the safest spot right now."

----

Turn’s out, it’s not really his place. Or at least, it’s what you’d thought it’d be. It’s more of an abandoned warehouse that he just decided to seek refuge in one day, doing the bare minimum to make it feel at the very least, home-y. The heavy metal doors creak open, revealing a chaotic interior cluttered with garbage, old newspapers, and a few scattered items. In the corner, a single bed and a sagging couch that look like they’ve definitely seen better days.

Your nose wrinkles in disgust as you take in the mess. "Seriously?" you mutter, your voice tinged with disbelief. "This is where you've been hiding out? It looks like a tornado hit a thrift store."

Logan, who had been trailing behind you, lets out a low grunt as he shuffles past, not bothering to respond to your jab. His heavy footsteps echo in the otherwise silent space, the sound bouncing off the bare, cold walls. He heads straight for a small, battered table that looks like it's one sharp nudge away from collapsing. On it lies a worn notebook, its pages yellowed and curling at the edges, evidence of extensive use. Without a word, he picks it up and starts flipping through the pages, his expression unreadable.

Your curiosity gets the better of you, and you step closer, peering over his shoulder. "What's this?" you ask, reaching out to take the notebook from him. He hesitates for a brief moment before relinquishing it into your hands. As you flip through the pages, your eyes widen in shock. The notes are detailed, almost obsessively so, listing the names of various mutants, their abilities, and the exact locations where their bodies were found. 

"Oh, great," you say with a sarcastic, half-hearted laugh. "You've been keeping tabs on me. What kind of creepy stalker are you?”

He rolls his eyes and snatches the notebook back, his voice dripping with irritation. "I wasn’t exactly tracking you. I was trying to track whoever’s been killing all those damn mutants."

Logan’s jaw tightens as you just continue to stare, and he lets out an exasperated sigh. "And don’t act all innocent. I needed to know who was causing all the chaos."

Scoffing, you continue to look through the notebook, stopping when you come across a particularly detailed entry. "Wow... 26 kills? Not too shabby for an amateur mutant, huh?"

“Is your mouth unable to stay shut?” he questions, though you know better than to answer that. 

The notebook flops back onto the table with a casual flick of your wrist. "Hey, don’t be mad just because I’m doing a better job than you expected."

He crosses his arms over his chest, his muscles straining against the fabric of his shirt. "I’m not mad," he snaps. "I’m annoyed that you’re making light of this. It’s not exactly a high score to brag about."

"Oh, come on. You’re the one who turned this place into a shrine to my success” you smirk.

"It’s not a shrine," Logan growls, his patience wearing thin. "It’s a record. If you’d been paying more attention to what’s going on, you’d know that."

The playfulness fades from your face as his words hit home. He’s right, but you’re not about to admit it. Instead, you deflect. "Yeah, and if you’d bothered to talk to me instead of playing detective, maybe we’d have figured this out sooner."

"You think you’re the only one who’s had a rough time? This whole situation is a mess, and we’re both caught in it." His eyes narrow.

You cross your arms, mirroring his defensive posture. "You didn’t have to get involved, you know. Unless...what if you’re the bad guy here?" you challenge, raising an eyebrow in suspicion. "Using all these mutants to lure me into your dungeon under the pretense of trying to ‘stop’ me?"

His response is immediate. "I’m way too lazy to think of doing all that."

You can’t help but believe him, especially given the state of the warehouse. He clearly lacks the energy—or the interest—to tidy up his living space, let alone mastermind a complex plot. You let out a sigh and walk over to the sagging couch in the corner. The fabric is threadbare, and the springs groan in protest as you flop down onto it.

"Fine, fine... I trust you," you concede, though your tone is far from serious. "Did you notice anything specific amongst these mutants?"

"Yeah, I’ve noticed somethin’,” Logan says, dragging a hand down his face, now looking more tired than ever. “They’re all pretty low-key. Not exactly top-tier in the mutant rankings. Never caused any trouble before, yadda yadda. If anything, they’re usually on the weaker side."

You furrow your brows, intrigued. "So they’re not a serious threat."

"Exactly," Logan confirms with a nod. "It’s weird. These mutants aren’t the type to just go around being fuckin’ annoying like they have been. Someone—or something—must be pushing them into this."

"You think they’re all being controlled somehow?" you muse, the pieces slowly falling into place. "And that’s why they’re suddenly acting out of character?"

"Seems like it," He replies, rubbing his temples. "Must be powerful if they’re all falling in line like this. We’re going to have to dig deeper to find the source of it.

He moves to sit next to you on the couch, the worn fabric sinking even further under his weight. "Tell me everything you know," Logan says quietly, his voice a tinge softer now, almost coaxing. "Everything that’s happened to you."

You sigh and lean back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling as you start to recount your experience. "It all began about a week ago. Just a normal day, I was walking to the grocery store, then I noticed this guy following me. At first, I thought it was a coincidence. But no matter where I went, he was always a few steps behind."

His attention sharpens, his gaze locking onto yours. "And?"

"It started as just stalking," you continue, your voice growing quieter as the memories flood back. "Nothing violent. But then, it started happening with different people. Each time, they were more persistent, more intimidating. It became clear that something was off."

You can feel Logan’s gaze burning into you, his concern evident in the way he leans closer, listening intently. "Eventually, they started getting aggressive," you say. "One night, one of them blocked my path and tried to grab me. I managed to fight him off, but when he hit me, it didn’t hurt. I mean, it should have, he looked pretty strong, but my arm felt fine. That’s when I realized I had powers—some form of super strength, super speed, and healing abilities."

"And you figured that out just from fighting them off?" he questions, somewhat impressed.

You nod, rubbing your arms as if to ward off a lingering chill. "Yeah. I didn’t really have a choice. They kept coming, and I had to use whatever I had to protect myself—including my damn kitchen knife. The more I fought, the more I understood what I could do.”

Logan pauses, his expression unreadable as he processes everything you’ve said. The dim light from the single bulb casts long shadows across the room, emphasizing the lines of fatigue etched into his face. Finally, he stands up, his movements slow and deliberate. "So, here’s the plan," he starts, his voice rough and tired. "We need to figure out exactly where these mutants are coming from. There’s gotta be a main location where they’re getting their orders or some central hub for this control."

You hum in agreement, though a part of you is reluctant to jump back into action so soon. "Alright, so how do we start tracking that down?"

His lips press into a thin line as he thinks it over. "We’ll stake out the rooftops. From up there, we can get a clear view of their movements and see if they’re converging somewhere specific. Maybe spot a pattern."

You stretch, stifling a yawn as you glance around the shabby room. "Okay, but are we doing that tonight? I’m pretty beat."

“Seriously? You want to put this off?" he accuses, face twisting in irritation.

"I’m up for it, but I’d be more effective if I’m not running on fumes. Plus, you look pretty tired yourself," you shrug. 

He lets out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair. "Fine. We’ll do it tomorrow."

A small smile tugs at the corner of your lips as you sense his reluctance to agree. "So you agree with me," you state, not really feeling any real pride, but just wanting to push his buttons.

Logan grumbles under his breath as he starts to clear a space on the threadbare couch, which creaks loudly under even the slightest pressure. "Do you ever shut up? I’m letting you crash in my bed, aren’t I?"

You chuckle softly, watching him arrange a tattered blanket on the couch with exaggerated care. "Yeah, yeah, okay. Goodnight, old man."

"Watch it, Knifey," he mutters, settling onto the couch with a groan as the springs protest under his weight.

You roll your eyes at his choice of nickname, and with a sigh, you make your way over to the bed, which is small and far from luxurious, but it’s better than nothing. The mattress dips slightly as you climb in, and the covers are thin, barely providing any warmth. Still, exhaustion pulls at you, and you barely have time to think about what the covers smell like before sleep overtakes you.

----

pls comment or message me if you'd like to be added to the series taglist!

[transfucksmilfs]

I’m living with an actual gamer

[melodygatesauthor]

The Fractured Moon - Part 3

Yandere! Moon Boys X f!Reader

PLEASE READ TAGS/DISCLAIMERS/WARNINGS BEFORE READING THIS FIC. THERE ARE DARK THEMES!

Not Beta Read - Series Masterlist

Summary:

After Steven's ruthless beating, you need time to recover, and the boys are going to show you how nice they can treat you, if only you'll let them, and as long as you behave.

Tags/Warnings (for entire series):

Disclaimer: I created this fic for the sole purpose of exploring the yandere thing as a fanfiction "kink" in a safe way and in a safe space. I in no way would want this to happen to myself or someone else. This fic is not a reflection of my moral beliefs. - Further, this fic is not an accurate representation of people with DID (dissociative identity disorder). These men happen to have DID and I'm putting them in a situation where they would have an unhealthy obsession with the reader character. NSFW, Stalking, non-con, somnophilia, rape, mentions of murder, drugged sex, kidnapping, manipulation, dacryphilia, voyeurism, threats of physical harm, copious amounts of sex, copious amounts of unprotected sex, blood, unrealistic refractory period, biting, slapping, hitting, reader is smol, choking. This is a Dead Dove Do Not Eat situation.

Word Count: 4079

----

Steven came into your room in the afternoon, the day after the beating you’d endured by his hand. He looked at you with a guilty expression, seeing immediately that your skin was discolored in places where he’d hit you. It didn’t go unnoticed either, the way your face looked panicked when he stepped into the room. He’d never seen you so afraid that you were driven to get up and scurry to the corner, sliding down the wall on your back and tucking your knees into yourself, as though you were hiding from him. Jake didn’t even make you this afraid.

“What did you expect hermano? What you did wasn’t discipline, it was torture,” Jake said coldly.

If Jake was the one telling Steven that he was out of line, then it must’ve been true. He didn’t mean to hurt you that badly, he was just so angry when he saw you with that filthy plastic toy. The idea that you chose something like that over him when he was right there, warm and ready to give you what you needed, still made his cheeks flush with rage. He took a deep breath to calm himself.

“Darling, I–” You tucked your head down further at the sound of his voice.

Steven’s entire body felt cold. He’d really gone too far, hadn’t he? Jake was right. It was one thing to teach you a lesson. A few welts on your rear, and maybe some bites to remind you who you belonged to, but what Steven had done…it was reckless, and monstrous. He’d never felt so terrible in all his life.

“I’m so sorry.”

He walked over and knelt down in front of you. You gasped when he reached out and touched your forearm gently. You pulled your arm back, afraid he was going to hurt you. He felt the butterflies in his stomach flutter when you looked up at him. Still so stunning, even with, sometimes especially with, fear etched in your pretty face. He gave you the softest expression he could, brows knitted together and turned up in concern.

“I shouldn’t have hit you that hard,” he admitted. He could’ve left it there, but he didn’t want the lesson to be lost in his kindness. “I hope you understand why I had to teach you a lesson, despite my being a little too harsh.”

You shook your head, “you’re a nasty man.”

Your words stung, and Steven had to try and keep his cool. You were upset, and you had a right to be, he knew that, but hearing you call him nasty…that was a lot to overcome. Steven wasn’t nasty. Rapists were nasty. Murderers who killed innocent people were nasty. Steven wasn’t any of that. He was kind, loving, protective, and anything you could want in a man. That was why he knew you loved him. He would never hurt you…not really.  He reached out his hand again, and that time he brushed your cheek with his thumb, despite your flinching.

He shook his head, “I don’t want to hear you saying horrible things like that love. I’m not a nasty man. S’not nice for you to say that. I’ve done nothing but care f’you, and love you, right? How can you call me nasty? How can you say something like that?”

You furrowed your brow, “you kidnapped me, raped me, all of you–”

He covered your mouth quickly, “no, no, no, shhh,” his eyes were wide. “That is not true.”

You saw his eyes start to well and his bottom lip started quivering. Was he so delusional that he didn’t see the truth? That he and his brothers had brought you there against your will and tortured you? Did he really think you were happy? No one could be that blind to the truth…could they?

“Can’t have you sayin’ things like that love, lyin’ and whatnot. S’not nice to do yeah?” He looked at you with what looked like desperation, “I brought you home to us, I give you love, I make you feel good. That’s all. You can call it whatever you like, but lyin’ is a bad habit to get into darling. I don’t wanna have to teach you another lesson.”

It was clear that no matter what you said, he was going to spin this around to fit his twisted fantasy, so you decided to remain silent. Speaking out against him would only lead you to more pain. He took his hand off your mouth slowly, as though you might explode if he released you too quickly. His expression softened into a look of adoration. It made you uneasy.

“I’m gonna do somethin’ special for you tonight, alright, so do me a favor, yeah? Get yourself all cleaned up nice, put on somethin’ pretty f’me, and I’ll give you a nice reward for being so good an for taking your lesson so well last night.” He stood up and started walking toward the door.

“I don’t have any clothes,” you reminded him.

He turned around, “oh god, you’re right. Silly me. I’ll have Jake pick somethin’ out for you, he’s got good taste.” When Steven smiled, you noticed how handsome he really was. You hated yourself for thinking it, but it was true. “I think you’ll like what I’ve got in mind f’you tonight. Gonna give you a chance to get out of your room for a bit.”

That was, unfortunately, the thing that made you behave better than the beatings. The promise of even the smallest dose of freedom. To be able to get out of the room you’d spent the last week in. Or was it longer than that? You couldn’t recall. You shouldn’t be that excited for something so simple, but you couldn’t help feeling a little giddy at the thought of getting out of the room, even if it was under their supervision.

You washed yourself well, and the hot water soothed your aching body. When Jake came in later, he brought you something to wear. It was a sheer babydoll lingerie top. You held it in your hands while the man looked you over. He grabbed your chin in his gloved fingers, tilting your head side to side. He tsked as his eyes trekked over your body.

“He really got you good, hm princesa?” Jake brushed a finger over one of your bruises forcing a wince and hiss from your lips. You stepped back. “Steven doesn’t understand the craft of fixing bad behavior. He gets a little…carried away.” He smirked, looking you up and down. “Put the top on, let me see it on you.”

You took the baby blue top and slid it over your head. You felt pretty in it, and you hated that you liked the gift they gave you. There were no bottoms it seemed. Despite their kindness, they still wanted to leave you open for their needs at any time. You didn’t see the point in arguing, panties or no panties, they were going to take you any time they wanted anyway.

“Muy hermosa.” He stepped forward and placed a soft kiss on your cheek. “Steven’s the lucky one tonight.”

Later, Marc brought you some food to eat, and he nearly dropped the platter when he walked into your room. You looked like an angel, donning your beautiful, sheer top. He knew that he was going to have his time with you another day, but he wanted to take you right then. His breath hitched in his throat while he watched you eat, taking your small bites as usual, as though you still didn’t trust the food they handed you.

“You’re so sweet baby, love seeing you in this little outfit. Jake’s got good taste,” Marc commented.

“Always have amigo,” Jake said amusedly from the headspace.

“Will you make her hurry up Marc, m’gettin’ impatient. She’s just so beautiful and I…I want her now.”

“Take your time honey, don’t want you getting a tummy ache,” Marc said, brushing his thumb over your cheek.

Steven was hurt after that, feeling wronged by Marc in the worst way. It was already hard enough to share you between the three of them, and now the man was just taunting him. None of the boys were ready for you to know their secret yet, and that was the only thing keeping Steven from fronting and dragging you out of the room to spend time with him in that moment.

He was relieved when you were finally finished eating, and Marc took away your food, kissing you gently on the cheek before leaving the room so Steven could get ready. He wasn’t getting all dressed up, all he wanted to do was curl up on the couch with you and listen to you read. He had no other demands, no requests for you other than to hear your beautiful little voice while you read from the pages of the book they saw you reading in the library. Steven felt like that was ages ago.

----

The Beauty and the Beast.

The book seemed ironically fitting now. You held it in your trembling hands, unable to peel your gaze off the book. You wondered if you’d ever stop shaking, but you supposed that so long as they kept hurting you, you’d be afraid of any interaction with them; even if the interaction seemed as innocent as curling up on the couch and reading.

“Come now love, lay here with me,” Steven felt his heart skip several beats when you looked up at him from the pages you were shuffling through.

You looked radiant, lit by the flames of the crackling fireplace. They licked over your skin, illuminating you in a way that made you look even softer than Steven thought possible. Sometimes he forgot how lucky he was, until his eyes fell over your body once more. You were his, and you weren’t going anywhere. He held out a hand to you, a love-drunk smile spread across his face.

You flinched back when he presented you with his hand, gasping sharply and dropping the book on the ground. Steven’s demeanor shifted from pleasantly affectionate to scorn. He stood up from the couch, forcing you to jump back, fearful that he might hurt you more. You dropped to the ground, grabbing the book and holding it to your chest tightly, keeping your eyes on the floor.

“I’m sorry!” You said loudly, feeling your entire body shaking in terror.

“Get up,” he demanded, “tired of seein’ you acting like you’re afraid of me.”

You slowly stood, knees practically knocking together while you tried to stabilize yourself. Your breathing was shallow, and you felt tears welling in your eyes as you turned them up to look at him. Steven’s mouth was turned into a dark frown, brow furrowed in frustration. He felt so damn guilty for hurting you. He really did, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being a bit dramatic. He didn’t hit you that hard, right?

“Turn around.”

It was a simple command, and you weren’t too dumb to obey it, but the fear they’d instilled in you had left you paralyzed. What was he going to do when you turned around? Not being able to see him made you even more afraid. You found the courage to do it anyway, knowing that your punishment would be far worse if you didn’t comply.

You felt his hands, gentle, but still forcing a flinch out of you, as they traced along your spine. He brought them to your sides, along your ribcage and then he held your waist. You grunted when he lifted you, and he backed up to the couch, where he sat slowly, resting you on his lap, your back resting against his chest.

He was hard already, cock prodding against his sweats as though it were reminding you that it was still there. You hadn’t forgotten, your cunt was still aching from the last time he’d been inside of you, just the night prior. You let out a soft whine, to which Steven smiled against your ear. He let out a long exhale, one that told you he was going to want more than just a little story time before the night was through.

“Go ahead love, start reading f’me,” his breathing was ragged and desperate in your ear.

Steven listened as your pretty voice began reciting the book obediently. You were acting so much better now; better than when you’d first arrived. He felt a swell of pride through his chest as he pressed his lips against your cheek. You stuttered as you read, breathing becoming more shallow as he worked his kisses down your neck.

“Don’t stop love, keep goin’,” he demanded in a breathy rasp.

You’d managed all that time to keep your physical feelings at bay, but you couldn’t deny the heat pooling in your core at his touch. His hands that were resting casually on your outer thighs were now rubbing against you slowly as he became more and more restless. You knew he was preparing to take you again, never giving you a moment’s rest despite how badly your body still ached from everything he’d done. You stopped your reading, a small whimper escaped your lips; a feeble attempt at begging him to stop without saying it verbally.

“Now, now darling, I’ll have none of that,” he roughly grabbed your waist in one arm, holding you in place while he slid his sweatpants down underneath you, “you’re gonna take me like you’ve taken me before, and you’re going to keep on readin’ like the good little girl I know you can be.”

Steven could feel the way you pressed your thighs together tightly and it pissed him off. He still didn’t understand why you were acting like this, like you didn’t want him as badly as he wanted you. It was obvious that his touch made you feel good. He felt it every time he was inside of you, and he felt it now, the way your cunt was leaking all over his lap, soaking everything it touched.

“I think you’re just a little tease. I think you like makin’ me work for it, you like seein’ how bad I want you? Is that it, love?” He let a dark snicker escape his lips, breath still hot against the soft skin of your neck. “Well…” Steven brought his hands over your legs and then between your thighs, forcing them apart easily, despite your efforts to keep them closed, “I’m quite over it now love. I want it, and I’m gonna take it.”

He lifted you with ease, lining himself up with your hole before sheathing himself inside of you. He let out an exhale of relief, as though he needed to bury his cock in you the same way someone might need cold water on a hot day. You dropped the book on his leg and held onto his thighs tightly, choking on your pained grunts as they tried to leave your mouth. He sat there, unmoving, save for the way he continued to pepper your neck in gentle pecks.

“Didn’t tell you to stop readin’ did I, love?” He asked, reaching for the book and placing it back in your shaking hands.

You continued reading, feeling his cock throb against your walls with every word you read from the page. You felt one of his hands snake around to grab your breast, while the other moved over your thigh and between your legs. You stopped reciting the words again, unable to spit out another sentence as his fingers searched for your sensitive nub in the sea of your juices.

“See, this is why it seems so silly when you try to act like you don’t need me, love. You can’t even read a damn book when I touch you,” he said in a low growl while circling his finger over your clit. “Keep going.”

You gulped and let out a shaky exhale before continuing. His breath brushed over your neck while he continued leaving soft kisses there. You were overwhelmed by the sensations, feeling his cock twitching inside of you every time his fingers passed over your clit, making your cunt contract over him again and again. When you felt the trickle of his drool running down your throat you stopped reading again.

“If you keep stopping, I’m not going to be very happy darling. M’trying to get immersed in the story and you’re making that very, very hard,” he moved his hips a little, forcing his cock to brush against your cervix.

You gasped, “o-oh god! I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, it’s t-too much,” you whimpered from the over-stimulation.

“Oh love, that’s not true, you can handle me, you’ve handled me before, keep reading.”

Steven started pinching your nipple while you read, making it even harder to continue, but you persisted. Your wounds from the night before, and the reminder that they provided you with, were enough to keep you going. If his goal was to terrorize you into behaving the way he wanted, he’d succeeded. You would do almost anything he asked at this point in order to stop a beating like that from happening ever again. He let out a deep, rumbling moan against your neck, rutting his hips upward.

“So damn wet f’me, how can you lie and say you don’t want this? Such a silly little girl, soaking everything underneath you and saying you’re not enjoying yourself.”

He was right, you’d begun to crave their touch, the feeling of their cocks inside you, their spend filling and spilling out of you. Your heart stopped when you realized you’d stopped reading again. Steven chuckled.

“Since you’re not going to read it…” he pulled the book from your hands.

“Steven…” Marc said with a tone of warning.

Steven had half a mind to bend you over the arm of the couch and spank you with the book until your ass cheeks fell off, but Marc brought him back to reality. Despite his desire to teach you another lesson in obedience, he knew your body couldn’t take it. Instead he positioned the smooth, rounded, leather spine of the book in front of your cunt, resting it between your wet pussy lips.

“I want you to fuck yourself on me, and rub your needy little clit on this book since you don’t seem interested in what’s on it’s pages.”

“B-but–”

“Shh!” He shushed you harshly, “you be quiet now and do as I tell you. I really don’t want a repeat of last night, d’you?” Steven asked, tone deathly serious.

“O-okay, I’m s-sorry,” you said, voice trembling in fear.

You positioned yourself on your knees and started gliding on his length slowly, rising up so the tip was barely in and then dropping back to his base. You were wetter than you’d ever been, and it made you feel embarrassed. You didn’t want to enjoy it, but you couldn’t help yourself. The leather spine of the book had ridges that brushed over your slick clit, and it felt…good.

A shuddering whine left your body, your head fell back over his shoulder as you kept moving, grinding your folds along the book. Steven couldn’t believe you were falling onto him like that, that you were laying over him. You were so pliant, like a sweet little doll chasing your release on his cock. You started moving even faster, breathing heavier with each pass. Steven licked a stripe up your neck, sucking on your skin when he reached the base of your jaw.

“Yeah, you like this don’t you darling? Feels good dunnit? O-oh-god-yes-love-shit…” 

His breath was ragged and hot against your skin, causing mind numbing waves to course through over your body and to your core. You felt him grab the back of your head, turning you to face him before covering your mouth in his hungrily. He was so messy, and so noisy when he kissed you, forcing you to swallow his loud moans. His hips moved, rutting upward roughly as you moved back downward, brushing your cervix lightly.

Steven heard a little shaky whine leave your mouth forcing a smile from his own. He looked up at you, precious face stained with tears, lips puffy from all the crying you’d done. He chuckled softly, feeling nothing but pure bliss when he saw you looking at him with cock-drunk eyes. Steven removed his hand from the back of your head and brought it around your side to your breast, tucking his hand inside the baby blue, sheer fabric so he could feel your skin.

“So soft, love…oh yes…” 

Steven pinched your nipple between his thumb and forefinger to which you gasped and whimpered noisily. Those sounds were enough to make him come without ever touching himself, and with the feeling of your little pussy squeezing around him as your orgasm approached, there was no way he could hold on any longer. He wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you close against him while he slammed into you from below.

As Steven started thrusting even faster and harder, your loud cries filled the room from the ache of the stretch. You had no choice but to reach back and hold onto his messy curls for stability, an action that he would misconstrue as intimacy. You were gasping and arching on him, feeling the way his cock filled you while the book’s spine caressed your swollen clit. You could feel it…you were right there…

“Ah! Oh darling, ah-ah–”

Steven’s throat clamped up as his cock twitched and throbbed within your walls. Your soft little hole was so warm, engulfing him and squeezing around his length while you came. He noticed the way you continued sliding your folds over the book, using it to work yourself through your orgasm. Your movements eventually slowed, and as they did, Steven pulled you up off his cock, letting your combined juices spill onto the leather-bound novel when he did.

“Ooh lookie here,” he tsked, “what a mess we’ve made,” he chuckled, “would you look at that?”

He lifted the slick, dripping wet object up to his mouth and licked a stripe along the leather spine.

“Gonna need some help with this, can’t leave it like this or it’ll get damaged yeah?”

You nodded, knowing exactly what he was asking of you. You leaned in, tongue joining with his while you lapped the book together to ‘clean’ it. Steven’s cum tasted sweet and salty, a delicious combination, though you’d never admit that out loud.

He found your mouth with his once the leather was free of both your messes, kissing you with both your combined cum on your tongues. He kept going, he couldn’t resist the taste of you, and he felt himself getting hard again already. You had such an effect on him, he couldn’t stop himself. He wanted you again. Steven grabbed your hips harshly, turning you to straddle him.

“Steven, that’s enough. You have to give her a break. We talked about this, and you agreed,” Marc reminded him sternly.

Steven growled, but you didn’t understand why. You’d done everything he asked. You behaved perfectly, as far as you could tell. He pushed you off of him and pulled his sweats up over his erect cock. You felt frightened, not sure what you should do now, but the last thing you wanted was for any one of them to be mad at you, but especially not Steven. The thought alone was horrific, you felt the panic rising in your chest.

“I’m sorry!” You said quickly, rushing off the couch and over to him.

You grabbed the outside of Steven’s pants with your hand, feeling his bulge through his sweats and hoping that it would make him less upset with you. You touched his chest, showing your willingness to obey, looking up at him with the most pathetic doe eyes you could muster. He chuckled when he looked back down at you. “Oh darling, you’re so adorable I can hardly stand it,” he said, letting out a heavy breath, “you see, I’d love to give you more, I can tell how bad you want it again…” he looked over in the mirror, scowling at Marc, “but it’s Marc’s turn now,” he took your hand off his groin and kissed your fingertips, “we’ll be together again soon, not to worry my little darling.”

----

Moon Knight Masterlist

[sioster]

Lessons... 💥💥💥💥 death and suffering

[scopophilic1997]

scopOphilic_micromessaging_1026 - scopOphilic1997 presents a new micro-messaging series: small, subtle, and often unintentional messages we send and receive verbally and non-verbally.

[neonicnoir]

[no-1-rosalind-lang-apologist]

[rainymeadows-art]

so when I first heard Blinding Lights by The Weeknd, I mentally scripted an anime OP for my fic and then I storyboarded it

and, well…

[fake-married-my-dead-fiance]

Okay, but does Kim Young-dae only star in dramas where the whole country agrees that he's hot? Because that's happened thrice four times now.

[jacarandaaaas]

i feel like this is an “i told you so moment”

tiktok already switched up on encanto AGAIN💀 like werent yall harassing encanto editors this time last year? now ur all like “omg encanto is such a banger” which like yeah already knew that but my god it’s so funny everytime this happens

[florshedworf]

trying to redesign the shamans….

was thinking of renaming em cherubs, elohim, or guardians

[d1stalker]

The Feeling's Mutual | Part Two

Summary: Working with Logan means you have to accept constantly getting the short end of the stick; it means discovering things about yourself you didn't ever expect. Still, despite dealing with all of this, you two make a pretty good team.

PART ONE PART THREE

Warnings: bickering, graphic descriptions, canon-level violence, revelations WC: 8.2k - MASTERLIST

----

"Alright, you’ve slept long enough."

You're jolted awake by a rough tug on the covers, the sudden chill of the morning air hitting you like a slap in the face. Your eyes flutter open, still heavy with sleep, and you squint up at the figure looming over you.

Logan, with his perpetually grumpy expression, stands there with an annoyed look, as if your very act of sleeping is a personal offense.

You groan and sit up, the duvet still tangled around your legs, as you blearily glance at the small bedside clock on the rickety nightstand. The red numbers blink back at you: 7:00 AM. “Seriously?” you mumble, rubbing the sleep from your eyes with one hand, your other still clutching the edge of the bed. “It’s way too early for this. Can’t I get a few more minutes?”

His eyes narrow, not even a flicker of sympathy crossing his face. He rolls his eyes as if to say, ‘You’ve got to be kidding me,’ and crosses his arms over his chest. "You look fine to me," he says flatly, his voice dripping with impatience.

Throwing the covers back with more force than necessary, you let out an exaggerated sigh. The cold floor sends a shiver up your spine as your bare feet make contact with it. "What’s the rush?" you ask, your tone sharp with irritation as you glare up at him. "You’re acting like we’ve got a deadline."

Logan’s expression doesn’t change, but there’s a telltale glint in his eye that betrays him. It’s subtle, but you catch it—a fleeting spark of amusement that makes you think he’s secretly enjoying riling you up. Suddenly he turns and heads toward the makeshift kitchen in the corner of the warehouse and pulls a piece of bread out of an ancient toaster, the appliance looking like it’s barely functioning.

Without warning, Logan flicks his wrist, and the piece of bread comes flying at you. The movement is so fast and precise that you barely have time to react. It’s only thanks to your heighten reflexes that your hand shoots out to catch the bread mid-air. You stare at it, bewildered, the heat from the toast seeping into your palm.

"What’s this for?" you ask, still confused and a little off-kilter from the morning's whirlwind of events.

He raises an eyebrow. "Fuck does it look like? Eat up."

You roll your eyes, but there’s a hint of amusement tugging at the corners of your mouth as you take a bite of the slightly burnt toast. “You know," you mumble between bites, "you could’ve just handed it to me like a normal person."

"Where’s the fun in that?" he shoots back, a rare, almost genuine grin tugging at his lips as he watches you chew. There’s a moment of silence as you both settle into the morning routine, the tension easing just a bit.

As you finish the toast, you can’t help but glance up at Logan, who’s now leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching you with that same unreadable expression.

"You wanna know why I really woke you up so early?" he asks, his voice low and direct.

"Why? Because you’re secretly a morning person who loves watching the sunrise?"

Logan snorts, clearly unimpressed with your sarcasm. "No, because your fighting form is shit"

You gape, caught off guard by the bluntness of his statement. "Excuse me?"

He doesn’t let up, leaning in a bit closer. "Yeah, you heard me. When we were fightin’, you were all over the place. If you’re gonna be any use out there today, you’ll need some pointers. So for a bit this morning, we’re gonna train."

"You woke me up early... to tell me I suck at combat?" You stare at him, processing his words. The audacity makes you want to laugh.

"You don’t suck,” he begins. “You just need to get better. And since I’m the one stuck with you on this mission, it’s my job to make sure you don’t get yourself killed."

You let out a sigh, rubbing the back of your neck. "Great. Just what I needed first thing in the morning”

“Think of it as a warm up.”

He doesn’t wait for your agreement. Instead, he just jerks his head toward the exit and turns on his heel, clearly expecting you to follow. With a resigned sigh, you grab your boots and tug them on as you hurry to catch up with him. He leads you to a cracked patch of concrete behind the building, a makeshift training ground that looks as rough as you feel. 

“Okay, let’s see what you’ve got. Don’t hold back.”

“Fine,” you say, squaring up.

In a flash, he lunges at you. Luckily, you dodge the first blow by sheer instinct, a sharp jab aimed at your ribs. The intensity sends a shockwave through your body, even though you managed to twist away just in time. It’s 7:00AM!!

Logan doesn't give you a moment to catch your breath. He’s on you again, faster this time, his movements a blur as he swings a fist toward your head. You duck just in time, feeling the rush of air as his punch grazes past your temple. Jumping to the side, you try to put some distance between you and his relentless assault

"Faster!" he snaps, his voice cutting through the morning air like a whip. "You're movin’ like a damn slug. If this were a real fight, you'd be dead ten times over by now."

His words are irritating, but they only fuel your determination. Summoning the latent power within you, you leap back, opening a gap. You can feel it there, just beneath the surface, waiting to be unleashed. He pounces again, and this time, you’re prepared. Channeling you super speed, you begin to dart around him, moving so fast he can’t keep up. In one swift motion, you lift your leg and land a swift kick to his side.

Logan grunts, but still he barely flinches, spinning around to face you. His eyes narrow in assessment. "Not bad," he grunts, "but not good enough."

His claws extend with a shink before you can even respond, and he swings at you, slicing right up in your face. You try to dodge, but the tips catch your cheek and create a deep gash. 

"Are you trying to kill me?" you shout, frustration bubbling to the surface as you counter with a punch of your own, your strength amplifying the blow.

Logan blocks it with his forearm, the impact reverberating through both of you. You’re pretty sure you heard a few bones crack. He snarls, his eyes flashing with challenge and something else—maybe pride. If you want to be optimistic. 

"I’m trying to make sure you don’t get yourself killed," he retorts, pushing you back with a forceful shove.

Your anger blazes at his words, and without thinking, your powers flare up again. This time, your hands crackle with energy, a faint orange glow sparking to life at your fingertips. You lash out at him with a rapid series of punches, each one laced with your mutant energy. He dodges most of them, but a few land, sending sparks flying where they connect with his body.

"That’s more like it" he says. He advances, switching to the offensive, forcing you to backpedal. "But you’re still letting your emotions get the better of you."

"Maybe because you’re pissing me off, asshole!" you snap, your frustration boiling over as you land another punch, this time aiming for his chest. The impact sends him stumbling back a good five metres, but he recovers quickly, his expression a mix of annoyance and amusement.

"Good," he says, rolling his shoulders as if to shake off the pain. "Just don’t let it control you.""

His words barely register as your anger continues to rise, fueled by his constant ‘pointers’. You keep pushing, your attacks becoming more aggressive, more reckless. Logan meets each one with an attack of his own, his claws flashing as they slice through the air, blocking your every move. The tension between you is electric, the air thick with the energy of your growing powers and the heat of your rising emotions. You go at him again, harder this time, and that’s when it happens.

Something straight out of a nightmare. You feel a sudden surge of energy—hot and thick, like molten lava—coursing through your veins. It’s overwhelming, and before you can fully comprehend what’s happening, your hands begin to glow brighter, the orange light intensifying until it’s almost blinding.

“Whoa—what the—?” you murmur, staring at your fists in shock as they burn with an intense, fiery orange, like heated iron.

Logan should be scared. You clearly have no idea what this is or what you could do with it. Yet, he doesn’t back down; instead, he presses onward. “Stay focused!”

But the energy in your hands is overwhelming, a burning heat that demands release. You feel it building, pushing you to the edge of what you can handle, and by impulse, you swing at him, aiming for his midsection with all your might.

The moment your fist connects with his stomach, the world seems to slow down. The sensation is surreal—you can feel your hand sink into his flesh, the resistance giving way as if his body were made of butter. Heat radiates from your fist, searing through his skin and muscle with an intensity that you’ve never felt before. To your absolute horror, your glowing hand doesn’t stop; it punches right through him, emerging out the other side.

For a second, everything is silent. The world holds its breath as the shock of what you’ve just done paralyzes you. Your breath catches in your throat, a suffocating lump of panic rising as you stare in disbelief at the sight before you. The feeling of your hand inside him, of flesh parting and melting, is too much, too wrong.

Then, the silence shatters as you scream, the sound raw and filled with terror. You jerk your hand back, nearly stumbling as you pull away, eyes wide. Logan stumbles too, his usually steady form momentarily thrown off balance. His shirt smokes from the burn, a charred hole marking where your hand had been. The smell of burnt fabric and flesh hits you, making your stomach twist in nauseous fear.

“Oh my God, Logan!” you cry out, “I—I didn’t mean to—”

But to your surprise, he doesn’t collapse. Instead, he looks down at the gaping hole in his stomach, then back at you, his expression more impressed than anything.

“Knifey,” he grunts, sounding almost amused despite the situation, “that was one hell of a punch.”

You stare at him, wide-eyed, as the glow fades from your hands. “Are you—are you okay? I just burned a hole through you!”

He chuckles, though the sound is definitely a bit strained. “A little hot under the collar, maybe, but I’ve had worse.” He winces slightly as his skin begins to knit back together, healing rapidly thanks to his mutant ability. “Don’t worry, this’ll close up in no time. You’ve got nothin’ to apologize for.”

“But I… I could have killed you.”

“Nah,” Logan says, waving off your concern. “You’re not the first person to try and fail. Besides, I’m more impressed that you’ve got that in you.” He glances at his now-healed stomach, then back at you with a smirk. “Just maybe aim a little better next time, yeah?”

----

You’re fucking exhausted. He really put you through the ringer—pushing you further than you’ve ever been pushed before. Your muscles ache, your skin is slick with sweat, and your breath comes in ragged gasps. Logan, on the other hand, seems barely winded, though even he has a sheen of sweat on his brow, and a gaping hole in his shirt. 

Your hands are on your knees as you bend over and try to slow your breathing. “You… really don’t… know when to quit, do you?” you manage to gasp out between breaths.

“Well, you’re not gonna drop dead on me, are you?” He shoots back, not caring at all about your current state.

Shaking your head, too tired to come up with a snarky retort, you barely respond. “Not yet,” you mutter, trying to rub some life back into your aching limbs.

“Good. Now come on,” Logan says, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. “We’ve got a job to do.” 

He steps away, heading back toward the warehouse, and you force yourself to follow, your legs heavy and protesting with every step. He moves with purpose, heading straight to a small table tucked in one corner, where a map lies spread out, weighed down by a few random items—a knife here, an old mug there. Not wasting any time, he leans over the map and traces a finger across several locations marked in red.

“Look,” he says, not bothering to wait for you to catch up. You step closer, peering over his shoulder at the map.

“We’re here,” he begins, pointing to a spot on the map that corresponds with your current location. “Your last few mutant encounters were in these areas.” He taps on the cluster of red dots. “We’re gonna hit these spots, see if we can find any leads on where they’re comin’ from.”

“Okay…” You follow. 

He stares at the pages for a brief moment longer, before looking up at you with a small smirk, like he know’s hes next words are going to piss you off. 

"Change of plans by the way. I’ll go on the roof, and you’ll stay on the ground. That way, the mutants will be able to find you."

You blink at him, your expression shifting from frustration to disbelief. "Pause. You’re using me as bait?"

"Yeah. Works better if they’re lured in by something they’re actually interested in." His smirk widens into a full-blown grin, the kind that shows he’s fully aware of how ridiculous it sounds but doesn’t care.

"Oh, great. So I’m just a distraction for you now? What happened to teamwork?"

Logan just shrugs nonchalantly in response, as if this is the most logical plan in the world, . "We’re still teamin’ up," he replies, his tone infuriatingly casual. "Just taking a different approach. Besides, you’ve shown that you can handle them," he adds, mocking your voice in a poorly done imitation, “26 kills, remember?’"

You narrow your eyes at him, now fully facing him and glaring daggers in his direction. "Handle them?" you echo, "What if I don’t want to be used as bait for some dangerous plan? I thought we were supposed to be on the same side here."

"It’s not like I’m asking you to walk into a death trap, bub. It’s just a way to flush them out. I’ll be right above, ready to help if things get too hairy."

"Yeah, that’s real reassuring," you snap back, "what’s next? Are you going to throw me into a pit of mutants and hope I manage to climb out?"

"I wish," he retorts, his voice tinged with sarcasm. 

Letting out a heavy sigh, you just keep your mouth shut. The idea of being dangled out like a worm on a hook doesn't sit well with you, but arguing with Logan has proven to be as effective as punching a brick wall. Your muscles are screaming for rest, and your mind is a whirlpool of fatigue and annoyance.

"God damnit. Fine," you concede reluctantly, rolling your shoulders in an attempt to shake off the lingering soreness. "But if this goes south, it’s on you, jackass."

“Fair enough,” he says, grabbing a worn leather jacket from the back of a nearby chair and slipping it on. The jacket strains slightly across his muscular frame, the creases and scuffs telling tales of countless past encounters.

He then shuffles toward a cluttered metal locker against the wall, pulling it open with a screech of old hinges. Inside hangs an assortment of gear: knives of various sizes, a couple of handguns, and a coiled rope. Is this even legal? You think. He grabs a sleek, compact earpiece from a small shelf and tosses it in your direction.

"Keep that on," he instructs. "We'll need to stay in contact. If you spot anything—or if anything spots you—you let me know immediately."

You examine the earpiece for a moment before fitting it snugly into your ear. A short burst of static confirms it's operational. "Got it," you reply, adjusting it until it sits comfortably.

Logan equips his own earpiece before reaching back into the locker and arming himself with a couple of vicious-looking weapons, tucking them into concealed sheaths along his belt and boots. The familiar routine seems to settle him, his movements efficient and practiced.

He catches you watching him as he methodically puts on his gear, and instead of asking if you’re armed, he pauses and reaches into the locker. With a swift swoosh he pulls out a sharp, gleaming blade.

The blade is perfectly balanced, and when he passes it to you, it fits comfortably in your hand. As you inspect it, you notice the craftsmanship—sturdy, reliable, and razor-sharp. Definitely an upgrade from your usual gear.

Guaging your reaction, his eyebrows raise in amusement. "Better than your last weapon, ya think Knifey?" he says.

You glance up at him, unable to suppress a small smile as you give the blade an experimental twirl. Giving a brief nod, you tuck the blade securely into a sheath at your side, feeling a bit more confident. He nods back in acknowledgement, and then he checks his watch. The morning is slipping away, and the streets outside will soon be bustling with people going about their day—a perfect cover for the dangers you're hunting. Folding up the map, he stuffs it into his back pocket before striding toward the exit. 

----

Once you’ve entered a busier part of the city, he pauses, his gaze sweeping over the surrounding buildings with a practiced eye. He turns to you, his expression all business. "We'll start over on Fifth Avenue," he says, nodding toward a maze of streets that stretch out ahead. "That's where the last sighting was reported."

You shield your eyes against the glare, following his line of sight. The streets look deceptively calm, but you know better than to be lulled into a false sense of security.

"Stay alert," he commands. "Don't make yourself too obvious, but don't be too subtle either. We want to draw them out, but not scare them off."

You scoff lightly, adjusting your jacket and running a quick hand over your gear to ensure everything's in place. "So act like a clueless pedestrian but also like a tempting target. Got it."

He gives you a pointed look. "Just be yourself," he quips, before he turns away and starts toward the side of the building. Rude, you think.

You watch as he approaches the fire escape, his movements fluid and sure. After a quick glance around to ensure no one's watching, he leaps up, grabbing the bottom rung and hauling himself up with ease. Within moments, he's scaled the side of the building, disappearing onto the rooftop above.

His voice crackles to life in your ear. "You ready down there?"

Taking a deep breath, you step out onto the sidewalk, blending seamlessly into the flow of pedestrians beginning their day. "As I'll ever be," you reply, starting to walk at a casual pace down the street.

The city unfolds around you, a tapestry of sights and sounds that are at once familiar and disconcerting under the circumstances. You weave through clusters of people, your senses heightened as you scan your surroundings discreetly, looking for any sign of unusual activity. Above, you catch fleeting glimpses of Logan moving along the rooftops, his silhouette a shadow among shadows as he keeps pace with you. Minutes tick by as you make your way toward the target street, each step measured, each glance calculated. The morning bustle grows thicker, and the air fills with the scents of street food vendors setting up shop and the distant rumble of construction work.

"Anything?" His voice buzzes softly in your ear.

You shake your head slightly, replying under your breath to avoid drawing attention. "Nothing yet. Just the usual morning rush."

"Keep moving. They could be anywhere."

You continue on, turning onto Fifth Avenue, and as you pass by a narrow alleyway, a prickle of unease runs down your spine. You pause briefly, casting a casual glance down the shadowed corridor. It's empty, littered with discarded boxes and a stray shopping cart, but something about it feels off.

"Logan, you see anything unusual around here?" you murmur, pretending to adjust your earpiece like they’re earbuds. 

There's a fleeting silence before he responds. "Hold on." You look up subtly, catching sight of him perched on the edge of a building, his eyes scanning the area with predator-like focus.

After a moment, his voice comes through again, lower and edged with caution. "There's a van parked two blocks down that doesn't seem to fit. Tinted windows, no plates."

You resume walking, heading in that direction while trying keeping your demeanor relaxed. "Could just be someone avoiding parking tickets," you suggest, though your instincts tell you otherwise.

"Shut up," Logan replies with zero hesitation, calling your bluff. "Stay sharp."

Approaching the intersection, you spot the van he's referring to. It's an unmarked, nondescript vehicle that seems deliberately inconspicuous—a little too inconspicuous for this part of town. Slowing down your pace slightly, you pretend to window-shop as you try to take in more details. The engine is off, but you can make out faint movement behind the tinted glass. "Definitely something going on there," you whisper, angling your body to keep the van in your peripheral vision. "Think it’s our guys?"

"Could be," Logan responds tersely. "Keep walking. Let's see if they follow."

Doing as instructed, you walk past the van and cross the street, risking another glance back. The van's engine has started, its headlights flicking on as it pulls out into traffic, maintaining a slow but steady distance behind you.

"Yup, they're following me," you report.

"Good. Lead them toward the park ahead. Fewer civilians there."

You spot the small urban park a few blocks down—a patch of green amid the concrete jungle, dotted with benches and sparse morning joggers. "On it," you confirm, quickening your pace just enough to be noticeable without raising suspicion.

The crowds thin out as you near the park entrance. Behind you, the van slows to a stop along the curb, and you can feel eyes boring into your back. "Logan, they're stopping," you inform him, subtly scanning your surroundings for any immediate threats.

"I see them," he says. "Three guys getting out. Can't get a clear look from here. Keep moving forward. I'll get into position."

You carry on down the path, resisting the urge to look back. Your senses are on high alert now, adrenaline surging through your veins and washing away the remnants of your earlier exhaustion. Footsteps echo behind you—heavy, purposeful strides that are too close and too focused to belong to casual park-goers, and you catch a glimpse of their reflections in a nearby puddle: three men dressed in dark clothing, their faces obscured by caps and sunglasses.

"Closer than I'd like," you mutter under your breath.

"Just a little further," Logan assures you. "There's a clearing up ahead. Better visibility."

A grassy open space surrounded by trees, currently deserted, comes into view just as he footsteps behind you quicken, closing the distance rapidly. You stop in the center, turning slowly to face them, and although you’re positively shitting bricks, you try to stay composed. 

The three men fan out in a semi-circle around you, their postures aggressive and eyes cold. "Well, well, what do we have here?" the one you think is the leader sneers, his voice oily and mocking. "Out for a morning stroll all alone?"

You force a casual shrug. "Just enjoying the fresh air. Is that a crime now?"

He chuckles darkly, taking a step closer. "Depends on who's asking. You look a little lost. Maybe we can help you find your way."

Your hand inches toward your concealed blade, fingers itching for reassurance. "Appreciate the offer, but I'm good," you reply evenly, eyes darting between the three men as you gauge their intentions.

"Don't think you understand," another one pipes up, his voice harsher, more eager. "We insist."

Before you can respond, the leader's eyes flash with a sudden, green glow, and you feel a sharp, invisible force slam into your chest, knocking you back a few steps. You grit your teeth against the pain, steadying yourself quickly.

"I think now would be a great time to do something," you murmur urgently into the earpiece, your fingers closing around the grip of your weapon.

"On my way," Logan’s voice comes through, and you can hear his breathing as he jumps through buildings.

The men advance, confidence oozing from their stances as they prepare to strike again. You draw your weapon in defence, not waiting for them to make another move. "Back off," you warn.

He laughs, a grating sound that echoes through the clearing. "Or what? You gonna stab me? Go ahead, try."

Challenge accepted. You aim the blade, and hurl it towards him. The target is on point, but inches before impact, it stops mid-air, falling harmlessly to the ground as the leader smirks, his powers deflecting the attack effortlessly.

"You're gonna have to do better than that," he taunts, his hands glowing with a sinister energy as he prepares to strike again.

Then, a feral roar cuts through the air, and Logan drops from the trees above like a force of nature, landing directly on top of one of the men and driving him into the ground with bone-crushing force. Claws out and eyes blazing, he wastes no time, slashing at the second man who barely manages to leap back in time, a gash opening up across his chest.

The leader's smug expression falters as he takes in the sudden turn of events. "Who the hell is this?" he snarls, recoiling slightly as Logan stands between you and the attackers, his presence an unyielding wall of defense.

"You don’t want to find out" he growls, his voice menacing. 

The other two mutants, momentarily stunned by the Wolverine’s sudden appearance, quickly regain their composure. The first one charges, his hands crackling with energy. But Logan is faster—much faster. He sidesteps the attack with grace, then drives his claws into the mutant's side, a deep, brutal strike that leaves the man gasping and crumpling to the ground.

The second mutant, seeing his comrade fall, hesitates for a split second before launching himself at you, clearly deciding that you're the easier target. Except you’re not. As he closes in, you speedily side step around him, a blur of motion as you reach for the blade on the ground. 

Once it’s in your grasp, you pivot around, and slash upward, slicing through his clothing, biting into his flesh. He lets out a strangled cry, stumbling back as blood blooms across his shirt.

"Think again," you snap, your voice cold and sharp, fueled by the adrenaline coursing through your veins. You press the attack, your blade a barely visible with the speed at which you wield it as you force him back, not giving him a chance to recover. The leader, seeing his subordinates falling one by one, finally shakes off his shock and focuses his eyes at you. With a snarl, he raises his hands, the air around them shimmering. He thrusts his hands forward, sending a pulse of raw power hurtling toward you.

Feeling your power surge through your veins, heating your blood, your hands begin to glow with that familiar fiery light, the same power that burnt a hole right through Logan earlier that day. You meet the leader’s attack head-on, your fist colliding with the ball of energy. The force of the impact sends shockwaves through the air, and makes you grimace, but you hold your ground, refusing to be pushed back.

The mutant’s eyes widen in disbelief as he watches you deflect his attack. His confidence wavers, replaced by a creeping fear. "This wasn’t part of the plan," he mutters, staggering back as he desperately tries to summon more power.

"Don’t care," you retort, slowly stalking closer and closer. He tries to make a run for it, but you catch up to him easily, grabbing his arm, causing him to scream in agony as the heat sears through his flesh. 

Logan, upon discarding his now lifeless victim, approaches the leader in an instant. He grabs the man by the collar, lifting him off the ground effortlessly with one hand. The mutant struggles weakly, his energy spent, his body trembling from the burns and the wounds inflicted by your hands.

"You picked the wrong target," Wolverine growls, his voice a lethal whisper. He tightens his grip, his claws hovering dangerously close to the leader’s throat. "Who sent you?"

The leader gasps for air, his eyes wild with panic as he looks between you and Logan. "We were… sent to attack… ," he stammers. "Mind control… we were forced to…"

Your heart skips a beat as his words sink in. It’s confirmed: mind control. These mutants weren’t acting on their own—they were being manipulated, turned into weapons against you. "Who’s controlling you?" you demand, stepping closer, your hand still glowing with residual energy.

His lips part, as if he’s about to speak, but then his entire body seizes up. His eyes widen in terror, and you think he might be having a seizure. He tries to speak–to move his mouth, but no sound comes out, his expression contorting as he struggles against some invisible force.

"Oh God, something’s wrong," you say, glancing at him with concern. 

Logan lowers him to the ground, and crouches beside him, gripping his shoulder firmly. "What the hell is going on?" he growls, but the mutant can only gasp, his eyes rolling back as if in agony.

You can see the panic in the man’s eyes as he fights against whatever is controlling him. It’s clear that he wants to tell you something, but he’s physically unable to do so. The mind control is stopping him, choking off his words before he can get them out.

Desperation drives you to act. You drop to your knees beside the mutant, gripping his other shoulder. "You need to tell us where they are," you insist, your voice urgent. "Give us a clue—anything."

His body shakes, his teeth grinding together as he forces out a single, strained word. "T… tunnel…" he gasps, his face turning a ghastly shade of white. "Underground…"

But before he can finish, his body convulses violently, as if an electric shock is coursing through him. His mouth opens in a silent scream, his eyes wide with terror. Blood begins to trickle from his nose, his body seizing uncontrollably. You and Logan can only watch in horror as the man's life is snuffed out right before your eyes. His head snaps back, and just like that, his body goes limp, collapsing to the ground with a final, sickening thud.

Logan bends down to check his pulse, but you already know the answer by the grim expression that settles over his face. "He's dead," he says flatly, wiping his hands on his pants as he stands back up.

You stare down at the lifeless body, your heart pounding in your chest. "Damn it," you mutter under your breath. Whoever was controlling him clearly didn’t want him to reveal anything more. "They got to him."

Logan clenches his fists, his jaw tightening in frustration. "Looks like they’ve got failsafes in place. This wasn’t just a fluke."

"So now not only are we dealing with a puppet master, we’re dealing with a psycho fries people’s brains if they talk. Fantastic."

He shoots you a look. "You done complaining? Because we’ve still got shit to do."

"Complaining? I’m just pointing out that our situation sucks, Logan." You glare back at him.

He shrugs, clearly unbothered. "Yeah, well, whining about it won’t get us anywhere. We need to find another way to track down whoever’s behind this."

You’re about to snap back when your eyes catch on the van still idling at the edge of the park. "The van," you say, your tone shifting from irritation to sudden realization. "Think we can track it back to whoever sent them?"

Following your gaze, his expression softens slightly as he considers the idea. "Maybe. If we’re lucky, they didn’t wipe the GPS data. Could give us a clue where these bastards came from."

You let out a huff, trying to ignore the slight sense of relief that Logan actually liked your idea. "Well, let’s hope they’re not as smart as they think they are."

You reach the van and climb inside, the smell of sweat and metal thick in the air. The dashboard is cluttered with tech—nothing too advanced, but enough to suggest this van has been modified for more than just transport. A laptop is mounted to the dash, screens dim but flickering to life as you settle into the passenger seat.

He slides into the driver’s seat, turning the key and bringing the engine to life. "Let’s get this thing back to the warehouse," he says, "We’ll see what we can pull from the system. Might give us something solid to go on."

Not waiting for anything else, he just shifts into gear and pulls away from the curb, keeping his eyes on the road as he maneuvers through the narrow streets.

----

Back at his place, Logan grabs the laptop and other tech from the van, motioning for you to follow him as he heads to a makeshift workstation near the back of the warehouse. The setup is basic but functional—tools, weapons, and old electronics. 

Following him, you can still feel the adrenaline from earlier buzzing through your system. He sets the laptop down, and powers it up. The screen flickers to life, and he starts navigating through the van’s GPS system. "You think they’ll be expecting us to track them?" you ask, leaning against the edge of the workbench.

All you get in response is a grunt, his eyes never leaving the screen. "They’re not idiots. They’ve probably figured out we’d try to follow the trail. That’s why we’ve gotta be smart about this."

The screen fills with maps, coordinates, and location markers. Logan hones in on one spot just outside the city—a cluster of old industrial buildings with access to underground tunnels. He taps the screen, highlighting the location. "This is where the van’s been going. It’s our best lead."

You study the location, a sense of unease creeping in. "So, what’s the plan? We just storm in?"

He shakes his head, leaning back slightly as he thinks it through. "No. If we go in too soon, they’ll be ready for us. We need to play this smart—wait a couple of days, let them think we’re not doin’ shit.”

Recognizing the wisdom in his approach, you nod. "Alright, but what do we do in the meantime? Just sit around and twiddle our thumbs?"

"We keep an eye on the place, see if there’s any movement. We prep, we rest, and when the time comes, we hit them with everything we’ve got. We’ll be bunking here for a few days.”

You look around the warehouse. In a day, this place has gone from some ugly dump to your new safe haven. Great. 

Logan moves to secure the van, checking the locks and making sure everything’s in place. As he does, he glances over at you, almost as if he can hear your thoughts. "You’re lucky you’ve got a bed—my bed," he emphasizes.

You shoot him a teasing look. "Hey, you offered. I would’ve taken the couch… but don’t offer that now because I’ve decided I like the bed."

With the van in place, the clawed mutant moves toward the small kitchen area tucked away in a corner of the warehouse. You watch him curiously, wondering what he’s up to. He pulls out a few ingredients from the pantry, setting them on the counter with practiced ease.

"Figured you might be hungry," he grunts, opening a few cabinets and pulling out some pots and pans.

"You cook?"

He tips his head back just enough to catch your eye. "Yeah, I cook. What, you think I survive on just beer and grumpy stares?"

"Wouldn’t be too far off," you snicker, leaning against the counter as he starts chopping vegetables..

"Sit down. This’ll be done in a bit," he says, focusing on his task.

You do as he says, settling onto a nearby stool and watching as Logan moves around the kitchen with surprising skill. He’s making pasta—something simple but hearty. The smell of garlic and onions sizzling in a pan soon fills the air, mingling with the scent of fresh tomatoes and herbs. It’s strange to see him like this, in such a domestic setting, but you can’t deny that he knows what he’s doing.

"Didn’t peg you as the culinary type," you comment, unable to resist.

"You pick up a few things when you’ve been around as long as I have” he says, tossing the vegetables into the pan with a flick of his wrist.

When the meal is ready, Logan plates up the pasta and hands you a bowl. The aroma is mouthwatering, and you dig in eagerly, surprised by just how good it is. The two of you eat in companionable silence, the tension from earlier easing as you enjoy the food. You watch him for a moment, the normalcy of it all striking you once more. It’s a side of him you hadn’t expected to see, but one that makes you appreciate the depth of the man behind the gruff exterior.

As the night falls, Logan heads to his makeshift bed in the corner of the warehouse, while you make your way to the bed he begrudgingly gave up. 

"You sure you’re okay with the couch?" you ask, more out of habit than anything else.

Logan shoots you a look, already half-lying down. "You’re the one who wanted the bed, remember? Just get some sleep.”

You smirk at his gruffness, knowing now that it’s just his way. 

----

The next few days in the warehouse pass in a strange, almost surreal calm. The constant adrenaline of your life as of late takes a backseat as you and Logan settle into a routine that feels more like a bizarre kind of roommate situation than anything else. 

Each morning, you wake to the sound of Logan already up and moving, the metallic clang of his claws as he practices in the open space of the warehouse. You join him for training, and though the sessions are intense, they lack that certain edge of urgency. It’s like you’re both conserving your energy for the fight to come, knowing that the real battle is just on the horizon.

"You’re still dropping your left shoulder," he points out one morning as you spar, his claws swinging.

You huff, blocking his strike with your blade. "And you’re still grumbling like an old man."

He rolls his eyes, dodging your next attack with a quick sidestep. "That’s because I am an old man, Knifey. What’s your excuse?"

"Just trying to keep up with you, gramps." You can’t help but laugh, shaking your head as you press the attack.

In the afternoons, after you’ve both worn yourselves out with training, you’d find yourselves sitting on the edge of the raised platform that serves as Logan’s makeshift living area. The warehouse is quiet, the distant hum of the city outside and the occasional creak of metal settling in the walls. It’s in these moments of stillness that you start to learn more about Logan—not the Wolverine, the fierce, unrelenting fighter—but Logan, the man behind the claws.

He doesn’t talk much about his past; it’s clear that there are parts of it he prefers to keep buried. But every now and then, something slips out—a story, a memory, a glimpse into the man he used to be before everything went to hell.

One specific day stands out. The two of you are sitting side by side on the edge of the platform, the remains of a quick meal scattered around you. Logan is unusually quiet, his gaze fixed on his retracted claws as his hands rest on his knees. His usual tough exterior seems to soften, just for a moment, and you can sense that something’s weighing on him.

"You ever wonder what it would’ve been like… if things had gone differently?" you ask, breaking the silence. The question is vague, open-ended, but you know he’ll understand.

His expression darkens slightly, but he doesn’t look away from his hands. "Yeah," he says after a long pause, his voice rougher than usual. "Sometimes. But thinking about it too much… it doesn’t change anything. Doesn’t make it easier."

You nod, feeling the weight of his words. "Weapon X… they really did a number on you, didn’t they?"

He finally lifts his gaze to meet yours, and what you see in his eyes is old pain and hard-earned resilience. "Yeah," he admits, his voice carrying the weight of years of suffering. "They did. Turned me into a weapon. Made me forget who I was… who I wanted to be."

He pauses, the memories clearly painful to revisit. "They didn’t just mess with my body," he continues bitterly. "They messed with my mind. Took away my memories, twisted what was left until I didn’t even know my own name. I was nothing but a tool to them, somethin’ they could use and discard when they were done."

The brutal honesty in his voice makes your chest tighten, and you can’t help but feel anger on his behalf. "But you fought back," you say softly, more a statement than a question.

Logan nods. "They tried to break me, and for a while, they did. I was just… lost. But they didn’t count on me fighting back. Didn’t count on me surviving."

"They underestimated you," you say, listening intently, feeling a deep respect for the strength it must have taken for him to claw his way back from that darkness.

A hint of a smile tugs at the corner of Logan’s mouth, and for a moment, you see a flicker of pride in his eyes. "Yeah," he says, a little lighter now. "A lot of people have."

There’s a fleeting pause, his words settling between you. It’s heavy, but you’re seeing a side of Logan that few people ever get to see, and you can tell that it’s not easy for him to open up like this.

Then, almost as if sensing the need to shift the mood, Logan changes the subject, leaning back on his hands as he starts to tell you about some of the more absurd things he’s witnessed over the years. "You wouldn’t believe some of the crap I’ve been through," he says, his voice taking on a dry, almost amused tone. 

He launches into a story that’s so ridiculous, so utterly bizarre, that you can’t help but laugh—really laugh, for the first time in what feels like ages. The way he tells it, with that deadpan delivery and his signature gruffness, only makes it funnier.

"You’ve really seen it all, haven’t you?" you say, shaking your head in disbelief after one particularly outrageous tale involving a mutant with the ability to turn into a giant bird. "Seriously, how do you even get into these situations?"

Logan shrugs, a smirk playing on his lips. "It’s just another day in the life, Knifey. Weird shit happens when you’ve lived as long as I have."

His words linger in the air, and suddenly, a realization dawns on you. You’ve been so focused on the immediate dangers, the fights, and the missions that you haven’t fully processed what it means to be a mutant, to have regenerative abilities like Logan’s. If you can heal from almost any wound, if your body can recover from injuries that would kill anyone else… does that mean you’re going to live as long as he has? Decades, maybe centuries? The thought hits you like a freight train.

"Oh shit, Logan," you blurt out. "Am I going to be around as long as you? I regenerate too!"

Immediately noticing the change in your demeanor, his sharp eyes lock onto yours. "Hey, hey," he says, reaching out to steady you. "Breathe."

But it’s like a dam has burst inside your mind, the implications of what you’ve just realized flooding in all at once. "Logan, if I have these abilities… I’ll outlive everyone I know, everyone I care about…"

Your thoughts begin to spiral, the fear and uncertainty taking root, and suddenly the idea of immortality—something you’d never seriously considered before—feels more like a curse than a gift. You’re faced with the prospect of endless years, of watching everyone you love age and die while you remain unchanged.

Logan’s grip on your shoulder tightens, his voice dropping to that commanding tone that brooks no argument. "Look at me," he says, and when you meet his gaze, the intensity there makes you freeze. "I know what you’re thinkin’, and yeah, it’s scary as hell. But you gotta keep it together. You’re not alone in this."

"But how do you deal with it?" you ask. 

He’s quiet for a moment, his expression hard as he wrestles with the weight of your question. When he speaks, his voice is deep, almost a growl. 

"It ain’t easy," he admits, his tone roughened by years of pain. "There are days when it feels like too damn much. But you take it one day at a time. You focus on the people who matter, on what you can do right now. ‘Cause that’s all any of us really got, no matter how long we’re around."

His words are meant to comfort, but the enormity of what he’s saying still feels overwhelming. "And when everyone’s gone?" you whisper, the thought of outliving everyone you love already eating you from the inside out. "What happens then?"

Jaw clenching, teeth grinding, Logan’s eyes hardening with a resolve that you can almost feel. "You keep goin’," he says gravelly. 

"You keep fightin’ ‘cause that’s what you do. You find new people to care about, new reasons to get up in the morning. The world keeps turning, and there’s always somethin’ worth fighting for. The people you lose, they wouldn’t want you givin’ up."

The conviction in his voice, the sheer will to survive, even after everything he’s been through, gives you something to hold onto. You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but the fear still lingers. "I don’t know if I’m strong enough for that.”

He meets your gaze. "You are," he says. "You’re tougher than you think. And you’re not doin’ this alone. I ain’t dying anytime soon.”

You nod slowly. "Yeah… we’ve got each other."

His hand moves from your shoulder to your back, giving you a firm pat, like he’s trying to physically drive the point home. "Damn right we do. And don’t go worryin’ ‘bout the future. One day at a time, got it?"

You manage a smile, the first real one you’ve felt in what seems like forever. "Got it," you whisper, feeling a sense of calm starting to settle in.

Logan seems satisfied with that. He’s about to say something else when he stops, gaping. He just stares at you, his usual tough-guy demeanor slipping for a second as he takes in the sight of you smiling—really smiling, something he probably hasn’t seen much of.

The words die on his lips, and for a moment, he looks almost… caught off guard. His eyes are fixed on you, like he’s seeing something he hadn’t noticed before, and it makes your heart skip a beat.

"What?" you ask.

Logan blinks, shaking his head slightly as if snapping out of a daze. He clears his throat, quickly looking away, his gruffness returning like a shield. "Nothin’," he mutters. "Just… you’ve got a nice smile, that’s all."

You feel a warmth rise to your cheeks, and for a moment, you don’t know how to respond. The way he said it, so simple yet so sincere, makes your heart stutter in your chest. 

"Well, don’t get used to it," you quip. "I’m sure you’ll piss me off again soon enough."

Logan huffs out a laugh, shooting you a sideways glance, his lips quirking into a small smirk. "Wouldn’t expect anythin’ less."

----

A/N: The plot is really going to pick up from here on out!

----

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[sunshinem0ths]

somebody needs to do a study on fiction podcasts and why they all have this exact scene/line of dialogue

[melodygatesauthor]

The Fractured Moon - Part 2

Yandere! Marc Spector - Jake Lockley - Steven Grant X f!Reader

PLEASE READ TAGS/DISCLAIMERS/WARNINGS BEFORE READING THIS FIC. THERE ARE DARK THEMES!

Moodboard - Series Masterlist - AO3 Link

Part 2 Summary:

You spend the next week adjusting to your new life with these men. The longer it takes for them to break you in, the more it's going to hurt.

Disclaimer:

I created this fic for the sole purpose of exploring the yandere thing as a fanfiction "kink" in a safe way and in a safe space. I in no way would want this to happen to myself or someone else. This fic is not a reflection of my moral beliefs. - Further, this fic is not an accurate representation of people with DID (dissociative identity disorder). These men happen to have DID and I'm putting them in a situation where they would have an unhealthy obsession with the reader character.

Tags/Warnings:

NSFW, Stalking, non-con, somnophilia, rape, mentions of murder, drugged sex, kidnapping, manipulation, dacryphilia, voyeurism, threats of physical harm, copious amounts of sex, copious amounts of unprotected sex, blood, unrealistic refractory period, biting, slapping, hitting, reader is smol, choking, non-consensual drug use (kinda), cock-warming. This is a Dead Dove Do Not Eat situation.

Word Count: 15k (Don't look at me)

Así = Like that

Buena niña = Good girl

Vamos = Come on

Comprende = Understand

At some point in the night you slept. Your captors seemed to leave you at peace long enough for you to doze on and off throughout the night. You felt weak, hungry, and thirsty as your eyes fluttered open the following morning. You didn’t even remember actually falling asleep, all you remembered was Steven kissing you on the cheek, and then leaving the room to let you rest. He said he’d come back to wake you with something special. Now you had that aching feeling between your legs while you stirred, something was inside of you that wasn’t there when you’d slumbered off. You recognized that feeling. One of them was stuffing you with their cock again.

Steven had been away from you all night. They’d neglected their duties as Moon Knight for so long that they finally had to put in some work for Khonshu. When they returned home, he wasted no time going straight to your room. He felt a sense of relief when he could see that you were right where they’d left you, sleeping soundly in your bed, and naked.

He was so excited, seeing you laying there so soundly. He’d stripped himself down and crawled in behind you, much like he had the first time he’d taken you. It was Jake’s idea to keep you naked all the time for moments like this. They needed to be able to have you whenever the need arose, and Steven had been kind enough to let you rest overnight. His need was heavy now, and he’d been so good and patient.

“G’morning love, I needed to feel you again.” The one with the British accent was squeezing you against himself again, rutting into you roughly.

“N-no, please.” You croaked, which was promptly followed by a large hand covering your mouth.

“Now don’t start that. You can’t expect me to believe you’re that upset when you’re soaking the sheets like this, yeah?” He groaned in your ear, “I don’t want to hear another word unless you’ve got something nice to say.”

You whimpered into his strong hand. Steven was huffing into your ear while he kept fucking you. He was right, you were drenched, slick dripping over your thighs and onto the sheets. He had himself wrapped firmly around your arms so you couldn’t move. You wished he would stop.

“If you’ll be good and quiet f’me, I can use this hand for something better. Something you might like, yeah?”

You didn’t respond. Admitting that you wanted him to touch you would further his growing delusion that you liked what was happening to you.

“You’re going to be a brat, hm?” He kissed your neck, right behind your earlobe, “s’alright love. When I’m all finished, Jake says he’s gonna make you behave a little better.”

You let out a muffled and half-hearted scream in response.

“Oh hell.”

The sound of your little shriek made his cock twitch inside of you. He liked the sound. Steven gave up on trying to silence you, wanting to hear you even clearer. It didn’t matter anyway, they lived so far removed from others that no one would hear you no matter how hard you screamed. He brought his hand down from your mouth and wrapped his fingers around your neck. He felt your throat vibrate when you gulped against his thick digits.

“Don’t worry darling, not gonna really choke you, just like havin’ my hands on you,” his voice was low. “You know I don’t want to hurt you right? None of us do. We love you. We just can’t risk losing you. That’s why you’re here.”

“It hurts.” You whined, feeling pain searing through your aching hole.

“Sh, I know love, it will feel good soon. I know you’ll be happy here, gonna take real good care of you now.”

Despite your defiance, Steven wanted to give you what you needed, and so he did. He loosened the hand that was holding your waist and brought it down to the apex of your thighs. You squeezed your legs together tightly, forcing a frustrated grunt from Steven as he thrust into you again.

“Darling please, s’not hard to just let me give you what I know you want yeah? Why are you acting like this?” He sounded like he was getting angry with you, forcing a chill down your spine.

Something about the way his cock slid against your walls the next time made you feel an overwhelming sense of pleasure, despite your mind telling you that you should be fighting to get away. Almost involuntarily you parted your thighs just enough for him to slide his middle finger in over your swollen and slippery clit. He let out a shaky moan against your ear.

“Ooh love, that feels good doesn’t it? Can feel you gripping around me so tight.” Steven started rolling his hips into you faster.

He was still in awe of how you felt, so warm and soft while he dragged his length over your walls repeatedly. A soft moan escaped your lips, and Steven thought he might faint after hearing the sound. Did you even know how beautiful your voice was to them, especially when you were enjoying yourself?

“Knew you’d like that, you sound so pretty it’s unreal.”

He swirled his finger around your nub and heard you sniffle while you continued crying. No matter how good it felt, you were still terrified. There was nothing you could do other than lay there. His fingers around your throat would get tighter if you tried to move, and surely your punishment with the mean one, Jake, would be even worse if you didn’t behave.

“You ready for me to fill you up again? Want to feel you gushin’ over me first love, come on.” Steven urged, sliding his fingers over your clit faster.

You didn’t answer verbally, but you arched back into his chest, getting as close to him as you could when you felt his fingers moving at an increased pace. Steven felt relieved to see you becoming more compliant to their needs after only one day. Marc had mocked him when Steven said you liked them, but this was proof. Why else would you be so good for him? Why else would you be reaching up to grab on to his forearm, holding his hand in place over your mound.

A love-struck smile spread over Steven’s face. You were holding onto him, squeezing tightly as he fucked into you harder. Your sobbing got louder, mixed with the soft hiccups of you trying to catch your breath. Regardless, those sweet little moans could be heard between each whimpering cry.

“You sound so good love, so-so good ah. Not gonna last, need you to come for me, hurry please.” He begged, continuing to rub the pad of his finger over your clit.

He didn’t even need to ask, you were already there. You pressed your lips together tightly, not wanting to make a sound. You didn’t want him to hear how good he’d made you feel. You still huffed through your nose though, and a muffled groan rumbled through your throat regardless of your attempt to stay quiet.

“Oh there you go love, there you are. Knew you would come for me, so good-so good-so fucking good-“

Steven squeezed you so tight you thought your bones might break. You made a choking sound that resulted in a flurry of apologies from his lips. His thrusting ceased while you felt his cock start pulsating inside of you, filling your cunt full of his hot spend.

You belonged to him.

He held onto you while he grew soft and kept repeating those words to himself. He had you there, and you weren’t going anywhere. You were theirs for the taking, any time they wanted; any time they needed. Steven muttered various words of affection in your ear while you felt yourself still crying with shame. You didn’t want to give him that satisfaction of your orgasm. You’d tried so hard to hold back.

“You did so well love. You feel so good I can’t wait until later when you’ll get to have me again.”

His words stuck with you even after he left. I can’t wait until later when you’ll get to have me again.

He said it as though it were a prize you’d won, like he was going to be doing you a favor; As though you weren’t there completely against your will and trapped in a room with no way out. You weren’t sure you could take more, you were so tender from all the torture they’d already forced you to endure. You just wanted to be let free, or left alone. Either way was fine by you.

Jake planned to give your aching hole a break, knowing that Steven was sure to have difficulty restraining himself in the coming days, and perhaps even weeks. When Jake came back to you later, you seemed to have stopped crying. You looked so small, sitting on the bed with the blanket pulled up to cover yourself. As soon as you saw him, you flinched back, putting yourself against the wall as far from him as you could, bringing the blanket closer to your face as though it would protect you. Jake had on his leather gloves, white button down with the sleeves rolled up, and his black slacks. He loosened his tie and undid two of the top buttons on his shirt as he approached you with a smug grin spread over his face.

“Hola bebita.” He stood at the foot of the bed with his arms crossed over his chest.

You remembered that this was the one who held the gun to your head…the one who had you the most frightened of the three. Jake. Steven had warned that Jake was going to ‘make you behave a little better’, whatever that was supposed to mean. You felt the tears threatening to fall already. You were so sick of crying, but you couldn’t help it, you were so afraid, and in so much pain. Didn’t they see that? Didn’t any of them have some empathy or compassion?

“P-please J-Jake I’m sorry.” You looked to see if he had a weapon that he meant to hurt you with, but it didn’t appear so…not yet anyway.

“Oh sweetheart you were very good for Steven.” He beckoned you over with his finger, “come here, sit at the end of the bed.”

You gulped and shook your head slowly, silently pleading with him to be merciful. You didn’t want to go anywhere near him. There was no telling what he intended to do to you. At least Steven was predictable, albeit painful, but you knew what to expect. Jake brought you a different kind of fear. The fear of the unknown.

“Listen, there are two ways we can do this sweetheart, and one will be much better for you if you just do what I tell you to do, comprende?” Your eyes were glistening wet while you looked at him pleadingly. He loved to see the way your bottom lip quivered. 

“Are you going to k-kill me?” You pulled the blankets up over your mouth to hide your quivering chin.

“Of course not, that wouldn’t do me any good at all, would it?”

Faster than you could react, Jake grabbed the blankets and yanked them from you. You were left naked on the bed with nothing but your pillows and the fitted sheet beneath you. You covered yourself with your arms, like it mattered. The man in front of you sighed and started removing his tie.

“One last time, are you gonna come over here on your own or am I going to have to make you?”

You didn’t say anything. Jake noticed that you didn’t seem to talk much. He wondered if you were just afraid, or if you were naturally a quieter person. Either way, it didn't matter. Something about the way you cowered in fear in his presence made him feel painfully aroused, and filled with an insurmountable excitement. After making no attempt to move toward him on your own, he knew he was going to have to make you comply.

“Don’t hurt her, she’s scared.” Marc said in a guilt ridden tone.

Jake wasn’t going to do any actual harm to you, but he was going to make sure that when you looked in the mirror, you were reminded of who owned you now. He wanted you to feel a phantom pain on the marks he left behind every time you thought about screaming or running away. He wanted you to see the reminders on your body and think about what you’d done so you may never think of doing it again. It was the only way they could reasonably keep you there and find a way to make you happy too. His lessons were for your benefit, despite what you might be thinking. If you could learn to obey well enough, they could let you roam the house from time to time, rather than keep you confined to the one room for the rest of your days.

Jake removed a glove and walked to one of the doors in your room. He used his thumb on an electronic lock pad by the door to unlock it. It wasn’t out of the norm for Jake to have handcuffs and torture devices on hand. Sometimes when they were doing their work for Khonshu they had to get answers out of people the hard way. Before this room was yours, they used it to interrogate the criminals Jake would bring back there. When they decided they were taking you, they made it a little more comforting, adding a bed to the otherwise empty room. Steven had suggested adding more to make it warmer, but Jake reminded him they didn’t have time to hire a damn interior designer before bringing you home. Your comfort could be managed later.

He pulled out some cuffs before closing the door and turning to face you once again. He swung the restraints around his finger while looking right at you. You gulped harshly. Defying him was a mistake, and you were wondering now if it was too late to show your willingness to comply with his demands. You crawled to the end of the bed quickly and sat back on your knees, covering your breasts with your arm and placing your hand over your mound in your lap, as if modesty was something you could achieve in your current position.

“Aw bebita, you should’ve done this sooner.”

He took your chin between his thumb and forefinger and turned your face from one side to the other. You were so fucking pretty he felt his stomach doing flips from just looking at you, and you were all his. He stepped back and gestured for you to turn.

“Turn around, hands behind your back, vamos.” He urged, never letting that snide grin fade from his face.

“I-I’m sorry Jake.” You said, remembering how much he liked it when you apologized before.

“Oh, princesa, I know. Come on now, turn around,” he said, tone unwavering and stern.

You looked at him a little longer, hoping he would change his mind and be kind to you, but his expression remained firm. You finally obeyed, turning and putting your hands behind your back. Just when you thought you were incapable of crying any more, more tears started falling down your cheeks. You let out a dry sob. If only you could get some water.

Jake knew you needed something to eat and drink, it was obvious in your voice. Marc was already chattering in the headspace with Steven about what they were going to do about that once Jake was finished. He handcuffed your delicate wrists together, smiling at himself when he saw your beautiful body from behind. They hadn’t had a chance to appreciate the full view until now. You were breathtaking from every angle, and he kept remembering that you were going to be there forever now. He could look at you whenever he wanted to.

“Buena niña,” he cooed.

You hiccuped as you cried harder. Jake loved the sound of your cries. He rested his bare hand on your shoulder, caressing your soft skin with his thumb. You pressed your lips together tightly to keep yourself from whimpering too loudly. He shushed you softly, running his palm over your arm.

“Next time, maybe you’ll listen a little better, si?”

You took a sharp breath, nodding slowly.

“Say, yes Jake.” He demanded.

“Y-yes Ja-Jake.”

“You’re a quick learner. I’m proud of you.” His voice was gravely with arousal. “When I praise you, I want you to say thank you, Jake.”

You whined, feeling your chest heave with emotional turmoil. You didn’t want to give him what he asked for, but you were afraid of what he might do if you were defiant. Jake put a large hand over your spine before pushing you forward. You bent in half, feeling your cunt exposed to the cool air of the room. You turned your head to the left so you could breathe. Jake let out a snicker behind you. The cold metal of the cuffs touching your lower back made you shudder.

“Thank you, Jake,” you choked out between sobs.

Jake noticed that you had your eyes closed tightly. You were so fucking afraid it was delicious. He grew excited knowing that he was about to ravage your body, inciting even more terror inside you. He could see how swollen your pussy lips were from their assault on you. Despite the aching of his cock pressing against his zipper, he wasn’t going to give it to you. Marc could later if he felt inclined, but Jake was there to teach you a lesson, not give you something he knew would ultimately pleasure you.

“The rules are simple sweetheart. If you can follow them, then you will be rewarded.” You felt the leather gloved hand press against your left cheek. “When I give you something, like a compliment, or when I let you come, you say thank you. Do you understand?”

You nodded slowly, keeping your eyes closed tight.

“When I ask a question, you will say, yes, Jake, or, no, Jake.” He squeezed your cheek so tight you winced in pain. “Tell me you understand.”

“Yes, Jake.” You opened your eyes, looking up at the man who was tormenting you.

“I need to hear you really say it, say it like you fucking mean it!” He pulled his hand back and smacked your rear, resulting in a harsh scream from your mouth. 

“Yes, Jake!”

He hummed in approval, “good, you sound so pretty princesa.”

Jake grabbed onto the cuffs to hold you in place with his bare hand. He started beating against each cheek until you were screaming and begging him to stop. A small puddle of drool collected next to your lips. You sobbed deeply, making noises you’d never heard come from your own mouth before. He didn’t stop though, he just kept hammering his gloved palm against you until you were certain your ass cheeks were going to fall off your body.

“Please, it hurts!” Your throat was sore from your desperate wails.

The burning on your skin didn’t end with his assault, which he fortunately ceased for the time being. Your cheeks continued to ache even when he was done. Through the blur of your tears you could see him reaching down to grab your waist. He was strong, tossing you like a ragdoll onto your back. You groaned at the feeling of the cuffs jabbing into your spine. The sheets, despite how soft they were, stung against your backside.

“Jake, I think she’s had enough, look at her.” Marc said.

“Hmm,” he mused, looking over your trembling form.

Jake didn’t quite agree with Marc, but it was only their first day having you there. He was impressed that you’d obeyed so well, and that you’d been able to withstand the beating he’d given you. Considering that you’d begged so beautifully, he decided to spare you any more torment for now.

“Bebita, I’m going to give you a final gift for today. You handled me so well, I think you can take just a little more, don’t you?”

You sniffled and nodded, “y-yes, Jake.”

A shaking breath left his lips at the words as you uttered them. Did you even realize how preciously innocent you looked? You had your knees up and pressed together tightly, clearly an attempt at modesty, but that wasn’t going to stop Jake. He placed a large hand on either knee and pried your legs apart with a grunt.

“Please, it hurts so much, please.” You begged, closing your eyes tightly.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to fuck you sweetheart. Not right now.” Jake’s gloved finger dragged between your folds and rested on your clit.

You arched slightly into his touch. The fact that you were so desperate for stimulation whenever their hands were kind to you made you wonder if there was something wrong with your mind. You found yourself craving it, wanting more. He crawled onto the bed next to you, never removing his gloved fingers from your swollen nub. You bit your lip and moaned despite yourself.

“See, I can take care of you, just as much as I can hurt you, but you have to behave bebita. Gonna mark you up just a little more, okay?” Jake swooped into the side of your neck hungrily.

“Y-yes!” You said obediently.

He started sucking on the skin so hard that you let out a cry in pain. You tried to shy away and spare your bruised skin, still hurting from the way he’d choked you the night before, but Jake reached out, grabbing the other side of your head to keep you in place. You wondered if there would be an end to the torture they were putting you through, or if this was going to go on forever.

“You’ve been so good today sweetheart. Thought for sure you were going to give me a harder time than that. Maybe Steven’s right. Maybe you do like us,” he whispered softly in your ear.

“No, no, you’re monsters.” You bit your bottom lip to stop it from shaking.

“Oh, princesa, I was going to give you a little break from the pain, but now you’re starting to really piss me off.”

You gasped when you felt his teeth latch down over the meat of your shoulder. You shrieked, trying to pull away, but between the hand on your head and the one between your legs, you were trapped. Your body shook violently, trying to get yourself away from the searing pain until finally he stopped biting you. You breathed heavily, and realized he was still rubbing your clit. As the agony subsided, you started to feel that sweet tingling sensation you desired so much.

Jake looked over at you now, and when you met his eye you saw blood glistening on his lips. He smirked, leaning in to kiss you. You kept your mouth closed tightly, not wanting to give him that intimacy he seemed to be demanding from you.

“Do you want another one?” He looked at you with a dark, furrowed brow.

Another bite? No, you wouldn’t be able to handle that, the other one was tormenting you still. You leaned up, slotting your lips against his. He breathed out a feral moan as he entangled his tongue with yours. The taste of iron filled your mouth while your saliva mixed with the blood he’d taken from you. The smooth leather fingers changed direction, forcing a gasp from you.

“See, when you’re a good little girl, you get what you need from us.”

“You really hurt her, Jake,” Marc scolded.

What Jake couldn’t say out loud, not right then anyway, was that he was doing all of this to make sure you would be more pliant for them going forward. He knew that when Marc went to you later, when it was his time, that you would behave so perfectly for him, and that he would be grateful for Jake’s hard work. Marc always felt guilty, it was infuriatingly annoying to Jake, but he hoped when you showed your willingness to comply, Marc would change his tune.

He wondered if you knew how good a kisser you were. The way you kept melting your mouth into his over and over while you whimpered in your ecstasy made Jake’s brain go numb with pleasure. Your spine was arching, and Jake felt you start rocking your hips against his fingers. You started kissing him deeper, relaxing more into the motions. You were enjoying yourself, and that made him soften ever so slightly.

“Así,” he breathed gently against your lips, “mm, vamos princesa.”

You hated yourself for your words, but you were so close, and he was moving his fingers so slow.

“Faster…please,” your voice was almost inaudible.

“Hm? Gonna have to speak up for me sweetheart.”

“Faster!” You tucked your face into his neck in shame.

Jake sniffed out a laugh in response, moving his fingers a little quicker for you. You were there again, for the second time that day, moaning through your orgasm, muffled into his neck while he continued to slide his leather covered digits all over your clit. He muttered some sweet, coaxing words in your ear, no louder than a whisper. You felt fresh tears run down over your cheeks and onto his throat where your face was still buried. When you were finished, you fell back, fatigue washing over you in a heavy wave.

He stood up before turning you over. He undid your cuffs and walked over to the closet to put them back. When he turned around, you were still lying chest down on the bed. He knew you were probably hungry, thirsty, and tired.

“Get your blankets back on your bed and sit there. One of us will be in with some food and something to drink soon.” Jake ordered.

He watched as you sat upright slowly. You looked up at him with big glossy eyes. You looked tired and emotionally worn. Oh but you were still so breathtaking. He watched with nothing but adoration in his heart as you stood up and grabbed your bedding off the floor where he’d pulled it from you, and you proceeded to go tuck yourself back under the sheets, just as he’d told you to. You were learning so quickly. It was more than he could’ve hoped for.

“Very good bebita. Sit tight, we’ll be back later.”

----

They knew everything about you. At least, that’s what they’d thought when they took you. Marc was standing with the fridge door open, staring at the food in front of him. He looked from top to bottom at least a dozen times. Someone would’ve thought he was deciding on a house to buy, not something simple like what food he was going to bring to a girl who hadn’t eaten or had water all day.

“Just pick something hermano.” Jake murmured coldly, “she’s gotta be starving, and with all that cryin’ I’m sure she’s thirsty as hell.”

Marc ignored Jake, but the fact remained…he wasn’t sure what you liked to eat. They’d seen your fridge back at your old apartment, it seemed like you were into most anything. Marc thought that something small would probably suffice, so he started putting together a plate. Steven was chattering on about the things he thought you might like, versus the things he thought you wouldn’t like. Every time Marc brought his hand out to grab something off a shelf, one of his alters had something to say about it. 

“Steven, I’m sure she’s going to be fine with this. Jake’s right, she hasn’t eaten since yesterday and she hasn’t had anything to drink.” Marc groaned and decided to put a few different options on a tray before walking back to your room.

“Yeah, sure, but what if she doesn’t like something on your little tray there? Hm?”

“Then I’ll make her something else,” Marc was talking softer as he approached your room, “you need to give her a break, you hear me? I know you’re going to want to spend the night with her, and you can, but for now, give it a rest.”

Steven muttered a few choice words in protest, but eventually conceded, knowing that Marc was right. You were spent. When Marc entered the room, he saw you just sitting there, staring at him. Except, as he got closer to you, he realized that you weren’t looking at him at all, you were looking wide-eyed at the tray in his hands. He felt his heart stop in his chest at the sight of you. You had the blanket covering yourself and you hurriedly pulled it to the side, leaving him a flat spot on the mattress to put the tray.

“Here you go honey,” Marc said, putting your meal down in front of you.

“T-thank you, Jake,” you muttered, rushing forward to your plate.

Marc’s stomach sunk. He supposed that to the untrained eye, he and Jake looked identical. They shared a body after all, and you weren’t accustomed to their minor differences in appearance yet. He sat down on the bed while you guzzled your water quickly, gulping it all down within seconds. He assumed that you probably didn’t care who out of the three he was, you were probably just afraid of the consequences if you didn’t say thank you.

“Woah,” he chuckled, taking the cup from you when you were finished. He held it in his hands and looked at you, “I’m actually Marc.”

“I’m sorry, I t-thought…oh no please don’t-”

“You’re okay,” he said, recognizing the look of panic boiling up inside of you, “just eat, please.”

Marc exhaled a small sigh of relief when you took a small bite of a cracker on your plate. He walked to the other side of the room and opened the only door without a thumbprint reader, the bathroom. Inside the bathroom he filled up the glass with more water from the tap. When he looked in the mirror he saw Steven staring back.

“We have a deal, Steven. We don’t interfere with each other’s time,” Marc spoke in a harsh whisper so you wouldn’t hear.

“Alright, yeah, sorry mate, just wanted to get a look s’all,” he said.

Marc knew that Steven might become a problem. While Marc and Jake shared the same unhealthy obsession as the other, Steven’s infatuation felt a little deeper, a little more…unhinged than the other two. Marc walked back and forth to the bathroom three times to get you more water before you were satisfied. He watched you carefully while you nibbled on your food, but you only ate enough to feed a small child. 

“Baby, come on. I need you to eat more than that,” he urged, picking up a grape in his fingers, “please.”

“I don’t want to. I want to go home,” you turned away from him, “it’s probably poisoned anyway right?”

“Oh…no!” Marc spoke in a gentle but very concerned tone. He pushed the tray aside and touched your shoulder softly, “no we would never-”

You winced when his fingers brushed over the bite that Jake had left behind. Marc felt a pang of guilt. Fuck, he thought. They were destroying you. Your spirit, your body, your soul. He thought about opening the doors right then and there and letting you go, but that thought alone made him feel like his heart might stop beating in his chest if he did. No. You leaving wasn’t an option…so he was just going to have to make you learn to love them, and love living there.

“I’m sorry he hurt you, but hey, when we tell you to do something, it’s for your own good, okay?” Marc felt relief when you turned back to face him, “there you go. Can you please eat something for me?”

He picked up the grape in his fingers again and brought it to your lips. Marc felt the weight fall off his shoulders when you opened your pretty, plump lips and let him drop the grape inside. You chewed, and he watched. You felt uncomfortable with him feeding you, but you also didn’t think you’d have the mental strength to continue feeding yourself. In some twisted way, you were grateful.

Marc immediately felt good inside. As if each grape he gave you chipped away at the guilt he’d harbored after they took you. It helped that there were a few times when your lips sucked his finger as he pulled it back. He felt his pants get tight around his groin while he fed you more. He’d told Steven you needed a break, but he wasn’t sure he was going to be able to stick to that himself. He hadn’t even had you yet. Jake and Steven were getting to have all the fun. He reminded himself of his goal though. With time, he’d win you over, and you’d eventually grow excited just from the sight of him. That day would be a dream come true.

“Thank you,” you said softly, once the grapes were all gone.

Marc brushed a thumb over your cheek, “I think Steven will be back again later. He has a hard time with…portion control.”

“I don’t think I can take more, really I-”

“Take this when he comes in,” Marc held out a small pill, “it will help you feel more relaxed.”

“You’re drugging me?” You asked, furrowing your brow at the small tablet in between his fingers.

“No, I’m handing you a drug. You don’t have to take it if you don’t want to, but it might help,” he said, holding it out in his palm.

You eyed the small pill before you took it and put it on the end table next to our bed. Marc gave you a forced smirk in an attempt to reassure you that everything would be alright before he grabbed the tray of half-eaten food and left you alone. From the way he felt Steven buzzing with excitement earlier when he was in the bathroom, he only hoped that you would heed his advice, or you were in for a night of pain.

----

When the time came, you were grateful for the little pill Marc had given you. Steven walked in later that night and you hardly stirred. He wanted to look at your face this time while he fucked you, since the last two times he’d taken you was from behind. While he climbed over you, he couldn’t help noticing that you were more limp than usual, less responsive to his presence. Marc knew he wasn’t supposed to interfere with Steven’s time, but he could feel the panic coursing through him.

“Steven, just relax alright? She’s fine, I just gave her a little something to help with the pain.”

“Pain…are you hurtin’, love?” Steven’s eyebrows were stitched together with concern.

“Mm,” you murmured, “yes.”

You weren’t sleepy, not yet, but you were simply feeling a sense of comfort over your entire body, like you were laying in a cloud. Your head felt a little foggy, but the pain that Jake had caused earlier over your whole body, and the throbbing that you’d felt between your legs, subsided.

“I’m going to help you give her what she needs okay? Just do exactly what I say.” Marc said gently.

“Yeah, alright,” Steven licked his lips and nodded, “gonna give you a treat tonight darling.”

Steven lined his fat tip up with your hole, sliding it between your folds and collecting the juices there. He couldn’t believe you were so wet and ready for him. Even through the sedative, you felt a sharp pain at your swollen and tender entrance. You winced, grabbing the sheets to brace yourself. You were so weak, your grip was meaningless, but you did it anyway out of instinct.

“There’s no way around it, it’s gonna hurt, but at least spit on it a little, get yourself nice and slick all over for her.”

Steven obeyed Marc’s orders, drawing a glob of spit together and dropping it down over his thick cock. He stroked it over himself, coating his length until it was slippery and glossy. Steven moaned, already desperate to feel your cunt again. Of all the things Steven enjoyed in life, nothing made him feel the way your body did. There was simply no comparison.

“That’s good, just like that, okay.”

You were glad you couldn’t feel the full force of the pain when Steven stretched you out over his girth once again. He shuddered forward, dropping both hands on either side of your head. Your eyes were half open, and in your drugged state you were able to convince yourself that he was a little handsome. He snapped his hips forward, filling you full to the hilt.

“Don’t like how little she’s movin’, looks like she might fall asleep,” he muttered quietly in between his grunts.

You wondered why he was talking as if you weren’t there. Maybe he was crazy. A person had to be crazy to kidnap and rape someone, right? It didn’t matter, the drug you took made everything feel a little better, a little more numb, and you didn’t have the mental capacity to think about it. He could talk to all the voices he wanted to, you could hardly feel a thing, and you felt your eyelids desperately wanting to close.

“Steven, if you’re going to keep fucking her a hundred times a day, she needs a break,” Marc scolded.

Steven grumbled and sat back, looking down to see the way you split over his cock. He could see what Marc was talking about. Your poor cunt was swollen around him. Your pussy lips were puffy, clearly aching, and Steven felt a little guilty. You were so wet though, so you must’ve liked it at least a little. Marc didn’t know what the fuck he was talking about.

“Y’know I don’t mean to hurt you, right love? S’not my fault you feel so good. Can’t help myself.”

His voice sounded wrecked while he continued fucking into your near lifeless body. He was glad that at least your cunt was reacting to his movements. He could feel you soft walls clenching down around him every time he rolled his hips forward, hitting the furthest point of your channel.

“Alright buddy, need you to listen to me. Take your thumb and start rubbing her clit. I know you’ve done this before, but let me tell you what to say. She seems to like when you say certain things.”

Steven globbed another ball of spit onto your clit and then started rubbing the pad of his thumb over it. He trembled when your walls fluttered over his girth. He saw your weak body arch into his touch, and that made him feel relieved. You were still right there, still warm and responsive, regardless of the drugged state you were in. Marc started coaching Steven, and the words coming out of his mouth fell like honey washing over you. It was amazing that some simple verbiage could make your body yearn the way it did.

“Look how pretty you are, love. I know it hurts, but you’re doing so good for us.” Steven started moving faster, the words were as encouraging for him as they were for you.

You groaned, a little from the pain, and a little from the pleasure. Steven, felt your cunt flutter around him with every rough and intentional thrust. Regardless of how sore you might be, it was clear that you were enjoying yourself, at least a little. He let out a shaky breath while Marc continued to urge him on from the headspace.

“You’re doing good Steven. Look how pretty she is. Fuck, she takes us so well doesn’t she?” He was watching, marveling in the way your beautiful and tired eyes stayed trained on Steven’s.

“Yeah, you’re stunning darling, f-fuck.” Steven could hardly contain himself, “that feeling good, love? Tell me, please say somethin’.”

You pressed your lips together as best as you could, and tried to hum out a positive response. Hardly a noise came out, and you felt your eyelids close heavily.

Steven noticed immediately when you weren’t awake anymore. He was pissed, to put it lightly. This wasn’t how he liked you. He liked your whines and cries filling the room. He liked to know that he was the one making you feel good, and now he was stuck fucking your sleeping body. It wasn’t like he didn’t love the way you felt even when you slept, his cock still twitched inside of you regardless and he certainly wasn’t going to stop, but he preferred it when you were awake. He reached out and grabbed your jaw, trying to shake you awake.

“C’mon love, wake up. Not done with you yet.” Steven thrust forward faster. You still felt so fucking good. How could someone be so perfect they felt that good even while they slept?

“Didn’t think she’d actually fall asleep. Sorry Steven I-”

“Shut the fuck up Marc,” Steven growled, “you leave her alone understand?”

Steven picked you up with ease before swapping positions, putting himself on his back and you on top of him, never letting his cock slide out of your slick cunt. You didn’t stir in the slightest, you were just a limp carcass splayed over his chest. He grabbed the other side of your head and brought your cheek to his lips. You’d never hear the sweet nothings he whispered into your ear gently while he bucked his hips upward roughly.

“Sorry darling, so sorry you can’t feel me like you should right now. Oh but you-you feel so-you still feel so good.” Steven knew that you wanted him, that Marc had taken this feeling away from you by drugging you. “Not gonna let him do that to you again.”

You couldn’t hear him huffing sharply in your ear while his orgasm approached. Marc had fallen silent, which Steven appreciated. He didn’t want Marc interfering during his time with you anyway. This was his time. Not to mention, what did he need Marc’s advice for anyway? Steven knew how to pleasure you just fine. He’d succeeded to make you come every time he fucked you. Marc didn’t know. Marc still hadn’t felt you yet.

He hadn’t felt how soft your cunt was when it squeezed down on their cock when you were coming; He hadn’t heard the way you whimpered while being fucked relentlessly, and he hadn’t felt what it was like to shoot their hot spent into your channel, overflowing you and feeling it spill out the sides. Steven felt that now while he nearly cried from the way his body shook as he emptied himself inside of you once again.

----

It went on like that for a little while. You weren’t sure how much time had gone by after a few days in that house. Steven and Jake had voted to keep you off drugs, to which Marc reluctantly agreed, being outvoted by the rest of the system. Despite not being drugged, you were incredibly tired, and in addition, sore, and mentally unstimulated, staring at the same four walls every day. There was nothing to do other than sleep, eat, and be a real life sex toy for the three brothers who all insisted on making your life a living hell.

You still wanted to go home.

While Steven agreed that you were probably sore, and in need of a break, he still struggled to keep himself off of you. Most nights, when he was certain the other two weren’t present, he would sneak into your room and fuck you from behind. You’d stopped fighting, and instead tried your best to enjoy it. It was going to happen whether you wanted it to or not, so you figured it was best to try and get something out of it.

This only served to feed Steven’s delusion that you were happy to be there with them. Every moan from your lips was a solid reassurance that he was giving you something you enjoyed, and every time you grabbed onto him or arched your back against his chest, he thought that was your attempt at intimacy. He fucking loved you so much. You could probably slap him and he’d think you were just playing around.

They all loved you, but Marc was the only one who showed you love in a way that you understood, or that at least seemed, dare you say, somewhat normal. He hadn’t fronted in a while, letting Steven and Jake have their fun, but it was his turn. You were beaten up, and he felt that sharp stab of guilt in his gut over it. Your face was still beautiful as ever, but your body was banged up and bitten. Your poor cunt was puffy and raw. You were dirty, tired, and clearly aching all over.

He had something for you hidden from your view behind his back as he drew closer to the bed. You thought it might be something he would use to hurt you like the others, despite not having hurt you thus far. You didn’t know what else these men were capable of, and maybe he was going to join in and start throwing you around too. You shifted further away as he approached, sitting on the other side of the bed with the blanket pulled up to your chin.

“How are you feeling baby?” Marc said, sitting down at the edge of the bed, keeping a healthy distance from you.

You were clutching your blanket to yourself tightly. You didn’t say a word, you only stared. Marc had noticed that you’d become less talkative as the week went on. Jake’s methods seemed to be working to tame you, making you more meek and obedient. It wasn’t their intention to change who you were, not at all. They loved you for you, but they needed you to stop fighting, and start behaving, and you were already getting so much better. Marc thought you should be rewarded.

“Here,” he pulled the gift out from behind his back.

It was a stuffed lamb, like someone might give to a child. You frowned at it, confused as to why he would be giving you something so juvenile. It was soft and plush, and something about it made you feel a huge wave of comfort the longer you looked it over. 

“You don’t like it.” He looked disappointed. “I was hoping that you might be able to hold onto it when Steven isn’t giving you breaks or when–”

You snatched the lamb from Marc’s hands and pulled it in close. It was just as comforting as you thought it would be when you brought it to your chest. The soft fabric of the wool against your breasts was soothing. You felt silly finding so much solace in something as childish as a stuffed animal, but given your situation, you stopped caring how it might look to anyone else. You needed any little bit of mental reprieve you could get right now..

“Thank you, Marc,” you said, just as Jake had trained you to.

Marc felt a sense of pride swell through his chest when you took the stuffed animal from him. He wasn’t sure you would like it, but there you were, clutching it against yourself like it was a lifeline. It was at that point he noticed the dried and crusted blood on your collarbone, chest, and various other places where Jake had bitten your precious body. He reached out, but you flinched back.

“I’m not going to hurt you honey, I just need you to come with me. Come on, let’s get you all cleaned up.” He held his hand out to you.

You hesitated, but ultimately you conceded, putting your new stuffed toy down and taking his hand, letting him walk you to the bathroom. His mind was buzzing watching you walk, stepping light as a feather while he guided you. When he looked at you, he felt like you were like a perfect little doll. 

“Go ahead and sit there on the toilet, let me get this started for you.”

You wondered if they’d stocked up on bath products while you were sleeping, or if you maybe weren’t the first woman they’d taken. You thought about asking him, but decided you didn’t really want to know. You also didn’t want your words getting twisted against you, as they often did. Knowing them, they’d start thinking you were jealous of past women who had walked in your shoes. He filled the bath with suds, salts, and oils. It smelled lovely, if you were being honest.

He thought he might bathe with you, work on soothing some of your wounds and making you feel more comfortable. He also hadn’t spent any time with you, not really, since you’d arrived. Marc let the water run over his hand, making sure it wasn’t too hot for your tender and beaten skin. Once the tub was full, he pulled off his shirt.

“Go ahead, get in the tub,” Marc gestured to the bath.

When you realized that he was getting undressed, you froze. You couldn’t take anymore, in fact, you wouldn’t take anymore. Your cunt was aching just looking at his bare torso. Against your better judgment, you bolted for the door, knowing that you needed to get away from the impending pain. You ran to the only exit, slamming your hand against the door and tugging on the handle wildly. Although you knew your thumbprint wouldn’t work on the lock-pad, having tried it several times before, you tried it again anyway, slamming the pad of your thumb against the reader. You felt the panic rising in your chest while you kept wiggling the handle.

Why did you do this? You thought. If you weren’t in trouble before…

“Honey,” you heard from behind you, “come on.” He sounded so calm.

Marc felt grateful that Jake and Steven weren’t watching when you made your foolish attempt at escape. He wasn’t going to hold it against you, he understood you were in pain and you were afraid, but he couldn’t speak for the other two. He knew that Steven had intense jealousy, and Jake was…Jake. You turned around, eyes wide with terror. Marc put his arms out, exposing his bare chest to you, an attempt to show that he meant you no harm.

Your eyes scoured his body, stopping at the clear bulge under his jeans. You pressed your lips together tightly, doing your best to keep yourself from crying again. For someone trying to act defiant and brave, you were failing miserably. Your knees were shaking while you stood there, staring at the broad chested man. You gulped and then collapsed to the floor in a heap of sobs. You couldn’t bring yourself to meet his gaze, so you just kept your eyes on the floor.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Please don’t hurt me-please!” Your entire body was trembling. “It just hurts so much. It hurts,” you sobbed.

Marc walked over and stood over your tiny frame, curled onto the floor like you were waiting for him to hurt you. He knelt down and put a gentle hand on your back. When it became clear that you weren’t going to get back up he groaned and scooped you up into his arms. Clearly you’d conceded to your fate, burying your face into his neck and wetting the skin there with your tears.

You didn’t open your eyes again until you felt him lowering you into the tub slowly. The water was hot but soothing. It felt nice against the wounds you’d received, and it felt as if your entire body exhaled in relief. Despite the fear still coursing through you, you felt a small moment of reprieve from the horror. You saw him, even through the blur of your tears, as he unbuttoned his jeans. He pulled both his pants and boxer-briefs down and toed them off.

He watched you gulp and shy away to the furthest point of the tub that you could. You had your arms covering your chest, but that didn’t matter to him. He had no intention of sleeping with you, he just wanted to make you feel good, and make you feel better about being there with them. Making you love them, genuinely and truly, might be the single most difficult thing he would ever do, but he would do it. He slowly got into the tub and watched you turn your head to the wall, avoiding his gaze entirely.

“Come here baby, let me at least wash you.” He put a hand on your shoulder.

You pulled your shoulder away, splashing some water up in the process.

“I can wash myself,” you muttered.

“Let me clean you up, and I’ll make you feel good too honey, please, you deserve it after how good you’ve been.” He urged.

You finally looked at him, sniffling and wiping away a tear, “but I wasn’t good, I just tried to run-”

“I didn’t see anything,” he said abruptly, cutting off your confession.

You furrowed your brow in confusion, until you realized that he was going to keep your little, and unsuccessful, attempt between the two of you. It gave you a small sense of comfort that he was going to protect you, if only a little, from the other’s wrath should they ever find out about your misbehavior. With that understanding, and considering the gift he’d brought you just a little while ago, you felt, in some twisted way, indebted to him. You finally gave in, sliding over to him in the tub.

“There you go,” he pulled you into his lap.

His stomach electrified with excitement while he pulled you over to sit with him. You were straddling him with a knee on either side of his thighs, arms still covering your chest. He couldn’t help the way his cock prodded underneath you, looking for a place to bury itself. When he’d drawn the bath for you, he hadn’t intended to fuck you, not at all, but he was quickly realizing how foolish it was for him to think he could resist you. Your knees clenched on either side of his legs when he grabbed your hips tightly, lining you up with his bulbous tip.

“P-please.” You looked at him, eyes big with desperation for mercy, “it hurts so much.”

“I know, but if you just sit on it, you’ll get more used to the size, okay? The more you let us loosen you up, the less it will hurt. I promise.” He cupped your cheek in his other hand, “I won’t move, just lower yourself down on me. Take your time.”

As Marc had hoped, giving you the freedom to set the pace encouraged you to do it on your own. He didn’t want to have to force you, so he was grateful when you showed your willingness to comply. You were slow, and he willed his hips to remain stationary while you rose up a little on your knees, getting it lined up perfectly. His breath was shaky while he felt you start to settle over it, lowering yourself painstakingly slowly.

“That’s it baby, just like that. Oh my-fuh-you’re so damn tight-shit.”

His hand was squeezing roughly on your hip, and somehow you managed not to pull away. Marc wondered if that meant you were getting more adjusted to the pain. Now he could see why Steven was so obsessed with keeping his dick buried deep inside of you as much as possible. Nothing in Marc’s entire life felt so fucking good. He let out a choked sound while burying his face into your sternum, resting both hands on your hips.

“There-there you go-fuck.” He sucked back the saliva that threatened to fall from his lips.

You lowered yourself completely so you were sitting on him, and he was keeping his promise to remain still. That didn’t stop his cock from pulsating inside of you while you rested there. He looked up at you, mouth slackjaw and eyes hooded with arousal. Under different circumstances you might find yourself attracted to him. Instead you were frightened by the sight of him, quickly tucking your face into his neck so you wouldn’t have to look at him.

“Let me look at you honey. Gotta clean up the marks that Jake left,” he was trying to keep himself level headed, but his voice was rough and wrecked.

You sat back and looked at him. You heard a low roll in his chest accompanied by a twitch of his cock inside of you at the sensation. He looked at your skin with concern stitched in his furrowed brow. He touched one of the bite marks just above your collarbone. You winced and hissed back, reaching a hand up to cover it. Marc let out a breathy rasp at the feeling of you shifting on his member, but he brushed it aside and concentrated on your ailments once more. Marc’s brow turned up. If “I’m sorry,” had a face, it was etched on his expression in that moment.

“I’ll take care of you, okay? You know they only hurt you because they care, right?” He grabbed a soft cloth from the side of the tub and started to wet it in the warm bath water.

You shook your head, “you’re all horrible,” another tear slipped down your face.

“I know it feels that way right now, but if you just relax, and let us take care of you, then you’ll see…everything we do is because we love you.” He touched the towel to your wound, forcing another pained gasp from you, “I’ll always take care of you honey.”

“This isn’t love, it’s insanity,” you corrected him.

You weren’t wrong, it was insane, and Marc knew that, but wasn’t love itself a little crazy? The idea that this unseen thing could bind people so deeply…at least it sounded insane when Marc considered it. You had your eyes closed tightly while he continued to clean you. His arm brushed over your nipple accidentally and he felt your cunt flutter softly in response. He looked up at you, and you finally opened your eyes.

Beautiful.

Without words, he covered your right nipple in his mouth. He was still managing to keep himself from thrusting, despite wanting to so, so desperately. If he could get your sweet cunt to do that again though…oh it felt so fucking good. You let out a quiet and breathy moan. Marc cupped your breast up so he could flick over the peak while looking into your eyes. You still looked like you were in so much pain.

“Relax honey, just enjoy yourself, that’s the only thing you need to do.”

His voice was soothing against your ears. You hated it. You hated that you enjoyed listening to him say nice things to you, you hated that his cock felt good filling you up the way it did, and you hated that you wanted him to put his mouth back over your tit and suck harder. You hated all of it.

“I know you’re still trying to deny your feelings, I understand.” He said as though he’d read your mind. He brushed the pad of his thumb over your cheekbone. “The second you give yourself over to us, is when it will all start to feel better. I promise.”

You shook your head, “never gonna give in to you…fucking pigs.”

Marc loved you. He really loved you, but you struck a nerve calling them pigs. He was trying so hard to be patient and kind to you. Didn’t you see that he was the only chance you had at any sort of peace from the otherwise brutal nature the other two harbored? Jake was going to continue to bite and spank you until you were more obedient, and Steven was going to fuck you until their cock fell off, but Marc…Marc was going to be a paradise from all that, and you were being so fucking rude.

He grabbed your jaw in his strong hand, “I’m not the bad guy here honey.” His voice was gruff and raspy while he spoke through clenched teeth, “I’ve been nothing but fucking nice to you, but I can start to be real mean if you want me to be.”

You looked at him with nothing but fear in your eyes. You tried to wriggle away, but his hand on your hip was firm, and the grip on your jaw tightened. Marc breathed out a heavy moan, feeling the way your cunt slid over him in your attempt to get away from. It was intoxicating, the feeling of your walls clenching over his girth. He didn’t thrust, he didn’t, he just slowly pushed your hip down while rolling his own hips upward. It was so slow it could hardly be considered moving, but he felt it.

So did you, and you were ashamed to admit that it felt good. You weren’t going to fuck him, you weren’t, but if you tried to get away from him, surely he’d have to pull you back down…right? You struggled again, trying to get away from him, sliding up to the tip of his length, but he pulled you in tighter, shoving his cock deep into you again. You whined in response, trying to keep yourself from rocking your hips against him. Was there any harm in giving in like he’d suggested? If you were stuck there anyway…

“Fuck honey, can’t hold it in anymore,” he said in a low growl.

Any promise he’d made was tossed out the window as his orgasm took over. He was grunting loud, thrusting harshly upward into your cunt, splitting you open wider one snap of his hips at a time. You held onto him tight, nails digging into his shoulders roughly. A gasp fell from your lips. It hurt being fucked like that again. This time you didn’t even come, and it was clear he was going to make sure you didn’t get that privilege.

“Only good girls get to come,” he said as he came down from his orgasm.

When he was finished using you like the other two often did, he lifted you off his cock and put you down in the tub. It was for the best that you didn’t get to come, at least, that’s what you told yourself while he finished washing you. The ache between your legs was screaming for attention, but you were still determined to keep your composure, not wanting to give in to it. When you were done being washed, you got out of the tub, dried off and walked back to your bed.

Marc didn’t say anything else to you. He was trying to decide how he wanted to approach the situation. He was angry with you and your continued defiance. Maybe he was being too easy on you. Maybe Jake was right in his approach. Marc tried not to be so angry with you, but didn’t you see that he was just trying to love you? It would be so easy for you if you’d just stop fighting and let them treat you like the princess they thought you to be. He’d hoped you would be further along by then, it being a week in already, but it would seem he was mistaken.

You could tell he was upset, and fear coursed through your veins. What if he decided  to punish you like Jake did? What if he told Jake about your disobedience? This didn’t look good for you, so you did the only thing you could think of to make him happy. Regardless of whether or not you wanted to avoid him wrongly thinking you were content with your life there, this was about survival.

Marc was about to press his thumb to the thumb print reader by the door when he heard you get off the bed. You grabbed his arm, your fingertips sent an electric current through him where they touched his skin. You looked at him with those big, beautiful eyes he loved so much. They looked like they were twinkling.

“I’m sorry, Marc,” you tried to appear as sincere as possible while looking longingly into his deep brown eyes. “Please don’t let them hurt me, please. I shouldn’t have said that.”

His face slowly lit up, changing from his angry furrowed brow to a softer expression. You felt stiff as you stepped back, eyes darting between his in the hopes that your plea worked. You felt disgusted with yourself, not wanting to make him think you favored him in the slightest, but you didn’t see another option. Your bites and bruises ached just at the thought of Jake’s ‘lessons’.

Marc cupped your cheek, sighing and looking at you affectionately “there’s my good girl. I left you a little something in the stuffed lamb I got you. Just don’t tell the other two, okay?”

You nodded slowly, “thank you,” you gulped, “t-thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome baby.”

----

Inside the lamb, behind the velcro opening, you’d found a small vibrator tucked away in the stuffing. No, you’d thought immediately, refusing at first to let yourself fall into any sort of comfort from the pleasure you knew it would bring you. Marc would be so happy if he thought you were using your vibrator that he got you. He’d think you were becoming more content with your life. You couldn’t let any of them think anything like that.

You kept up that way of thinking, that you were above using such a thing, until Steven was on top of you again, mouthing hungrily at your neck, leaving marks of his own on you. It hurt still, the ache of your hole getting stretched multiple times a day and being filled with copious amounts of his and Jake’s cum. It was getting easier, but the pain was there nonetheless. Marc seemed to keep himself from partaking in what the other two had no qualms in having as much as they could.

It had been two days since your bath, since you'd received the vibrator, and you knew they’d be back soon. They seemed to be out of the house most nights. It had been hours that you were alone and it was getting late. An idea struck you suddenly, a thought that you might be able to dull the ache in some way, assuming they’d want to take you when they got back. The vibrator stuck out when you opened the back of the lamb. It was bright pink against the white stuffing. You pulled it out, and turned it on. It was loud and the vibration was strong. If you could make yourself wet enough, it might hurt less when they had their way with you later.

That was the logic behind you laying back on your bed, legs spread out wide with the strong vibration resting on your clit. It was hard to feel grateful for Marc’s kindness, considering he was part of the reason you were there, one of three parts to be exact, but while you pleasured yourself you couldn’t help thinking of him a little.

You thought about how gentle he was with you in the tub, letting you lower yourself over his cock. He wasn’t like Steven, taking you no matter how hard you cried. Marc was different, but you wondered if that was what made him the most dangerous. He could be the one to make you start getting comfortable, so you vowed to yourself that you’d stay strong, no matter how soft he was with you, or how good he could make you feel.

While you were enjoying your moment of self love, Steven was fighting. They usually fought at night, but at this point Steven was normally home. It seemed to him like there was an influx of crime recently, or maybe he only felt that way because now he had something waiting for him at home and the losers on the streets were keeping him away from you. Either way, doing things the “humane” way was taking too long.

If the fact that he was dependent on Marc, Steven and Jake wasn’t enough, the second reason that Khonshu didn’t care that they were doing something so immoral, was that Steven turned to killing to speed things up. He found that ending the villains who terrorized the streets gave him the ability to finish their work faster, so they could get back to you sooner. Jake liked it too, it meant he and Marc could start killing again without hearing the constant nag of Steven’s good conscience judging him relentlessly.

Your vibe was so loud you didn’t even hear the door unlock. Steven walked in, love-dumb smile plastered on his face until he realized what you were doing. You gasped when you saw him, quickly switching off the toy, sitting up and staring at him wide-eyed. You felt the heat rise to your cheeks immediately while the two of you looked at each other unmoving.

“What a’you doin’ love?”

His white suit was covered all over in blood spatter. You tried to hide the vibrator quickly, as though you weren’t just seconds from mind numbing ecstasy, but he wasn’t dumb. The look on his face turned to one of utter betrayal as he charged forward. You flinched, covering your face in your hands and making yourself as small as possible. He grabbed the pink, plastic thing in his hand.

“Oh no. No, no, no, what is this?” He held up the toy in his hand, turning it around and inspecting it. “Who gave you this? Hm?”

“Steven, calm down, I just gave it to her as an act of goodwill, it’s not a big-“

“Marc…” an annoyed laugh escaped him, sending a chill through your body, “I should’ve known.”

Steven was pissed, to put it lightly. He felt the blood rushing to his cheeks while he tried to keep his composure. He looked down at it, and then back at you. This was unacceptable. How could you do something like that to him? He was right there ready to please you any time you needed. He was a warm body, he knew what you liked, and you would choose this thing over him?

“Look at me…” he spoke coldly.

Knowing the punishment would be worse if you didn’t, you removed your hands from your face and looked at him. You wiped the tears from your eyes, seeing him now standing over you with an abnormally enraged expression. His usual soft and loving gaze was filled with fury, forcing terror to pool in your gut.

“Love, why would you ever use something like this? Huh? What do you need this for when you’ve got me?” His expression shifted, he looked hurt.

“I’m sorry, please I’m so sorry I thought it was okay because-“

“It’s not!” He shouted, forcing you to flinch. “S’not ok. I’m better than any piece of fuckin’ plastic aren’t I? Don’t I make you feel good?”

Now you were starting to understand why Marc told you to keep your little toy a secret. You’d never seen Steven so upset, so angry. This was an anger born from deep betrayal, he was hurt. Knowing that he was probably going to bring Jake in to punish you, you decided to be proactive to show your willingness to behave. You could only hope that he would spare you.

Steven, despite his frustration with you, felt the nagging of arousal in his pants as your gaze fell on his groin. Your little hand reached up and brushed over the fabric covering his bulge, involuntarily Steven’s hips moved forward, chasing your touch. You looked up at him with those big eyes, desperation etched in every pore of your face.

“Darling,” Steven’s face softened a little. He cupped your chin roughly in his gloved, bloody hand. “I love you with all my heart, but you’ve really disappointed me today. I need you to know that.”

You felt the panic rushing through your body in a wave. With trembling hands you reached for the button of his pants, but he stepped back. Was he not going to let you please him? Was he not going to let you apologize in the way you knew he’d like? He must’ve been furious with you, more angry than you’d originally anticipated.

“No, no, no…if you think this thing is so wonderful, maybe I ought to give it a go, yeah?” Steven’s lips were curled into a frown, “you just sit there, and watch, and if I see you look elsewhere, we’re going to have an even bigger problem, love.”

He kept the vibrator in his hand while he undid his pants and pushed them down to his mid-thigh. His fat cock bounced as it was freed from the confines of his boxer-briefs. You gulped, watching him intently. You were determined to behave, not wanting to incite more anger from him than you already had. He turned on the toy, and the loud hum filled the room once more.

“There, let’s see what’s so special about this bloody thing.” He pressed it to the underside of his cock and immediately you saw his body tense. “Oh shit.”

“Steven, what's the plan?” Marc asked, tone riddled with nervousness, knowing that Steven could be unpredictable if provoked, “I’m not gonna let you hurt her, you need to just calm down.”

“Well love, this does feel rather good, I wouldn’t lie to you.” He kept his darkened eyes on you. “Doesn’t feel as good as your warm little cunt though.”

Steven was getting hot so he removed his coat quickly and brought the vibe back to his cock. He slid it back and forth from his balls to his leaking head. The slit in his tip was dripping so much there was a small wet spot on the floor below. You were watching like he’d demanded, and he could see you pressing your legs together tightly.

There was a burning in your groin. The sound of the vibrator mixed with the sight of Steven’s weeping erection was forcing your own arousal to build. You…you wanted him. There was no way you’d admit it, but you could feel it like an itch demanding to be scratched. You needed to feel his cock filling you again. Out of everything you’d been through, that feeling alone was what scared you the most. The moment you became content in your situation was the moment that you signed yourself over to this place being your future. You couldn’t let that happen.

“It’s my fault she has that thing in the first place, just let her apologize and move on.”

Steven was tuning him out and instead put all his focus on the delicious feeling of the vibe rolling over his length. Nothing would replace the way your warm, wet walls made him feel, but this did feel good. He saw you shifting uncomfortably, and he recognized that look in your eye.

“Oh, look at…ah-damn…look at you. I can see how worked up you’re getting darling.” He wiped away some spit that dribbled onto his chin. “Bet you’d like to feel me now, yeah?”

The feeling of the vibrator was causing his cock to twitch.

“You better teach her well amigo, teach her like I do.” Jake murmured.

Against your better judgment, you couldn’t hold back any longer. You needed some friction between your legs. You tried to be inconspicuous, bringing both of your hands to your tightly clenched thighs, making it look like you were just cold and trying to warm your hands.

Steven wasn’t stupid.

He snickered, “oh, you look rather pathetic right now don’t you?” He groaned, hips still churning over the noisy toy. “So needy, but you don’t get to have your way. You don’t get to hurt me like you did and still get to feel good.”

He stepped forward on shaking legs and wrapped his fingers around your throat. Steven felt you gulp underneath his palm. You brought both hands to his forearm, holding tightly. You had a beautiful look of terror in your eyes that brought him right to the edge. He squeezed tighter.

“I’m going to come love. I’m gonna-and then-I’m-you’re gonna-mm-so pretty-so pretty-ahh!”

You watched as Steven’s head fell back and thick white ropes spilled from the slit of his head. He was holding the vibrator in a way that most of his spend landed on the plastic casing. His body twitched when the feeling became oversensitive. He pulled the vibe off his length. Steven looked back down at you, face softer than before now that he was satisfied. He looked at the toy in his hand and then at you once more.

“Open your mouth, love.”

Steven watched as you slowly parted your precious lips. He put the vibe in your mouth, rolling it over your tongue.

“Clean it all up darling, be good f’me now. Maybe if you do well I’ll be less harsh when I give you your lesson…maybe.”

You closed your mouth over the toy, bobbing your head to collect every bit of cum that he coated it with. You parted your lips again, showing him that you were willing to drag your tongue over every bit to do a good job. You even leaned forward, taking the stray bits that had landed on his bloody glove into your mouth and swallowing. When you looked up at him, he seemed more than pleased.

“Wow, you’re absolutely perfect, love. I know this was an honest mistake right? You didn’t mean to upset me.”

“Of course not, I’m so sorry. Please forgive me, Steven.” You hoped the pleading look was enough to help him understand how apologetic you truly were.

“Oh my sweet darling.” He brushed your cheek with his thumb. “I love you more than anything, and I truly wish that I could just let it go, but…” you watched, dumbfounded, as Steven took the toy between his two hands and snapped as though it were a thin little twig, “…I still have to teach you a lesson, are you going to be good f’me now?”

Your bottom lip quivered when you thought about how upset Marc would be when he saw you’d failed to keep your little secret from the other two. You wondered if he would want to punish you too. Of course you hadn’t meant to get caught with it, and you didn’t realize that Steven would’ve been so upset if he saw you using it. Running wasn’t an option now, it never was, so you saw no other choice than to nod and obey Steven’s commands.

“Yes,” you nodded, “I’ll…I’ll be good.”

A sadistic grin spread over his face. You watched him roll his sleeves up just above his elbows on either side. He walked over to the foot of the bed, you rotated to keep your front facing him at all times. One of his hands rested on his hips and he beckoned you forward.

“Come.”

You didn’t like being called like a dog, but you obeyed anyway, crawling to the edge of the mattress and then sitting back on your heels. Steven looked satisfied with your willingness to follow his instructions so far, though he’d only asked for so little. You were trying to stop your body from shaking but you couldn’t.

“Turn around and get on all fours.” He demanded.

No good could come from turning your back on him. At least when you faced him you could see the blows coming. Steven had never hurt you, nor had he ever treated you this way, so you weren’t sure what to expect. You turned slowly, propping yourself up on your hands and knees. You then felt something cold and metal touch your right side. You flinched away, but Steven had a firm grip on your left hip, holding you in place.

“Now, I won’t lie to you my love, this is gonna hurt…probably a lot…but it’s the only way you’ll learn.” You felt a soft tap on your rear from the metal, “move forward a bit, make room f’me.”

You complied, and then felt the bed shift behind you. It felt like he was playing with a steel pole on your back, rolling it from your shoulders all the way back to your rear like a massage tool. It felt nice, but you knew it was only temporary. The next time you felt the pole it was painful, striking against your left asscheek harshly. You wailed, falling forward onto the bed, feeling sobs start to overwhelm you immediately.

“Come back up here, come on!” Steven was yelling loudly, “not done yet love, don’t make me ask you again, keep yourself up. S’not that bad. I’ve seen Jake do worse.”

You gathered yourself, going back on all fours like he wanted. You saw the stuffed lamb Marc had given you just an arms length in front of you. You reached for it, hoping Steven wouldn’t protest. The plush toy felt comforting as you leaned down and held it close, making sure to still keep your ass in the air. Steven slid his hand over your sore cheek forcing a wince and a hiss from your lips.

“Yes love, hold on tight to that little thing Marc gave you. He’s so nice to you isn’t he? Maybe that’s why you thought you’d get away with somethin’ like this. He’s too soft on you.”

“Someone’s gotta be nice to her. You two don’t give her a chance to fuckin’ breathe,” Marc spoke up in his defense.

Another whack from the metal pole had you screaming and holding onto the stuffed lamb for dear life. You never thought that Steven, out of the three, would be the one to do this to you. Jake made perfect sense, he was dark, cold, and threatening. Marc could be harsh and clearly had a knack for discipline in his own right, but Steven…Steven had always been affectionate, in his own way…until now.

“Wanna hear you say you’re sorry love, tell me how sorry you are for hurtin’ me like that.” He used the baton to hit your side now, right along your ribcage. “Say it,” he spoke in a threatening tone.

“I’m sorry!” You screamed through your sobs, “I’m so sorry!”

“Can see why Jake likes this so much, all those pretty sounds you make…” he forced his cock into you so suddenly that you pushed yourself up on your arms in surprise, “fuckin’ hell. Keep cryin’ darling, keep begging me to-oh my God-keep beggin’ me to stop. Can’t get enough of how it sounds.”

He hit you again. Steven knew he should feel bad, but he couldn’t help the way your pained noises seemed to permeate his ears and peak his arousal. Even more, he was still angry about the vibrator, and wanted to make sure you never thought about betraying him like that again. Your cunt clenched over him the next time he gave you a swift crack against your side. You fell forward again.

“I’m sorry Steven, I mean it. I’ll never touch myself again without your permission, I’ll never do anything like that-ah!” You were interrupted by a blow to the left side.

You felt something warm drop on your lesser used hole. Spit, you thought. He didn’t have to tell you, you knew what he was going to do. The cold pole pressed against your tight ring of muscle. You relaxed, trying to make it less painful, but it didn’t matter how prepared you were, he was going in. You expected to feel nothing but agony when he stuffed the baton into your hole, but to your surprise it felt…good.

Steven noticed the change in you immediately. He felt the way you started to rock your hips back on your own over his cock and the pole he’d pushed deep into your ass. You stopped crying, and your cries were replaced by deep, guttural moans that filled the room. He’d never heard you like this and the sounds excited him more than he could fathom.

“Gonna have to try something like that myself, listen to her…” Jake sounded needy, which Steven didn’t like. It meant his time was running out.

You clutched the bedding in one hand and still held the stuffed toy in the other. His cock filled you up, and the pole made your brain stop functioning almost completely. You’d become so mentally numb that your mouth was stuck gaping and drooling into the lamb.

“Oh darling, that feels good dunnit?”

He didn’t need to hear you say, yes. Your screaming, moaning cry was more than enough to satisfy his question. He looked down, seeing the way your holes were stretched out in their dual penetration made his cock twitch inside of you. He watched your tight rim as it clenched around the pole at the same time your cunt throbbed over his girth. You fell forward again, and when Steven nearly felt himself slip out he’d had enough.

“Alright, open.” He demanded, pulling the pole from your rear.

You whined at the sudden empty feeling. You knew when he said open, he could only be talking about your mouth. You did as you were told, parting your lips. He brought the pole down to your open jaw.

“Cover your pretty little teeth love, or they’re gonna break,” he warned in a dark tone.

He gave you hardly any time to comply before he put the baton in your mouth horizontally and pulled back. He gripped the pole tightly with both hands like handlebars, holding you in place. It gave him the perfect leverage to fuck into you relentlessly without slipping out. This was the most brilliant idea Steven thought he ever had.

“There you go love, made myself a little toy out of you.” His voice was rough while he continued his unforgiving pace. “How do you like that, yeah? You like bein’ my little toy?”

You sobbed, feeling pain in your jaw from the pressure the pole put on you.

“If you choose a stupid-shit-oh-God-stupid toy over me again, I’ll make this pussy into my personal f-fuck toy.” He grunted, pounding harder. “Would you like that? Hm? Treat you like an object instead of the love of my life? Wouldn’t that hurt your feelings darling?”

Despite the agonizing way the pole stretched your lips out, you were close to climax. He was fucking you so hard, and something about the possessive way he called you his toy made your body feel hot. You relaxed into it, finally taking a moment to experience the pleasure of his ownership, and all at once the wave melted over you. Your deep moans filled the room while you came around his thick cock, arching your back as much as you could to feel him deeper.

Steven felt you clenching around him tightly. Your poor body was so weak, he could tell by the way you fell limp so soon after you came. Even with the pole holding you up, you dropped. He tossed it aside with a clank on the floor. Now he was there, sitting back and grabbing your hips tightly, continuing to fuck you roughly. He wondered if you fainted, your body wasn’t moving. It didn’t matter to him, he was going to fill you like you were made to take every last drop of him…and to Steven you were.

His hips came to a stop against your rear, hot white spurts of his seed shot into you. Seeing it fill you up so much it started leaking out the sides was Steven’s greatest pleasure. Your swollen and puffy hole was so beautiful with it split over him he could stare at it for hours. He pulled out of you and watched his spend trickle out onto the bedding. You started to fall over, onto your side, so he let you, now feeling a little concerned with the clarity washing over him. 

“Love.” Steven shook you, but you weren’t moving and your eyes remained closed.

“Steven what the hell did you do?” Marc sounded furious.

“Everyone just stay calm, I’m sure she’s f-fine just takin’ a little rest is all…right Jake?” Steven’s body was trembling.

Jake took over, immediately feeling for your pulse. He slumped over, satisfied when the thump of your heart was there. He ran a hand over his face and huffed out a weary sigh. You were just resting, something you clearly needed after everything they continued to put you through. Jake retracted the suit completely, grabbed the broken pieces of the vibrator off the floor and left you in peace.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t really mean to hurt her, I was just…she was just…I mean she made me do it! How could she use that-”

“Enough!” Jake shouted when he got to the living room. He looked in the mirror, a three paneled piece they used so they could all “see” each other while they talked. “She’s been fairly well behaved, despite recent events.” He looked at the panel Steven was occupying. “I think it’s time we discuss giving her some more…freedom…what do you two think?”

Series Masterlist - Moodboard

Moon Knight Masterlist

[vinegxre]

omg furry art moment??? transformice oc/sona?? the ,, mouse? i play? as? i dont own clothes yet the clothes are for sfw reasons no one wants to see a naked mouse D:

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dnf's Transformice!lovechild

original design (in the corner) by @aplee

help me my head huirrts