#hellhound au

Days passed strangely in hell, with no sun or moon to mark the passing of time, and so you didn’t know how long you spent in Asmodeus’s pleasure house, whether it was weeks, years, or a millennia. Eventually, it all blurred together, time ceasing to matter as you played your part as entertainment.

The pleasure house was the biggest in all of hell, servicing the underworld’s entire echelon of lesser demons. Since you were still one of Asmodeus’s newest acquisitions, you were relegated to the glory holes, though he often promised that if you were a good enough hole for his patrons, you could work your way up the hierarchy of whores. 

But so much time had passed, it seemed, and all you’d done was rotate through the various positions in the glory hole rooms, where the lesser demons could use your holes for their pleasure. You’d begun to lose hope—you’d begun to accept that your afterlife would be nothing more than this. 

Truthfully, it wasn’t all bad. 

The incubi and succubi who visited the pleasure house always made sure you came—mainly because it was how they fed—and the shadow creatures could be surprisingly gentle, though they could spend an entire, exhausting eon edging you until you came so hard you passed out.

But at least that meant you got a little peace, even if demons continued to use you while you were unconscious. 

Of all the lesser demons that frequented the pleasure house, the fiends were the worst. They were the ones that made you hope to one day earn your way out of the glory holes, so you could service some of hell’s greater demons and escape the fiends.

What made them the worst was their need to inflict pain in order to get off. 

They’d leave you covered in bruises and marks from their claws—but that wasn’t as bad as the awful things they said to scare you. The fed off your fear, and they loved to spin tales of how much worse it was beyond the glory holes, how you should be happy they were the worst you had to deal with.

Eventually, you learned to like the pain the fiends inflicted, but their words sank deep into your bones until fear was as constant a companion as the patrons of the pleasure house. It made you yearn for and dread the day everything would change. 

That day turned out to be Halloween. 

All Hallows’ Eve was the only day of the year you ever marked in Asmodeus’s pleasure house, solely because it was when the glory holes were practically deserted. With the veil between hell and earth so thin, demons preferred to torment the living instead of the whores in the afterlife. 

There were still a few demons milling around Asmodeus’s glory holes, but you were enjoying a moment of respite, the screams of your fellow whores an almost lulling soundtrack as you let your mind drift numbly. You tried not to think of how your life had been cut short, and the terrible circumstances in which you’d found yourself in your afterlife.

Then, suddenly, your instincts came alive, an awareness like the tip of a sharp knife blade trailing down your spine, and you focused on your surroundings. 

There—you heard the heavy tread of a greater demon in the hallway outside the room, and to your astonishment, it stepped into the room. 

It was rare that a greater demon would visit Asmodeus’s glory holes. Unlike lesser demons, they could afford the steep prices of renting an entire whore for a night—perhaps even a whole room of whores, if they so wished.

In all your time in the pleasure house, you hadn’t ever been visited by a greater demon, and you suddenly wondered if your soul would survive it. You might already be dead, but you’d heard tales of a second death, one that was even a mystery to the residents of hell. 

If anyone could manage it, it was a greater demon.

Greater demons were much bigger then lesser demons, their size reflecting their status and power in hell’s hierarchy. The bigger the were, the more powerful.

Whereas lesser demons were more or less the same size as humans, which meant they were manageable and less likely to harm your soul, greater demons were monstrous. Some were so massive, they could tear you apart, leaving your soul destroyed.

Each step of the greater demon into the room rattled the chains holding you captive, the iron cuffs around your wrists connected to bolts on either side of your little compartment. The walls shook just as much as the platform on which you lay on your back. 

The hole in the wall was big enough for your waist to fit through, but small enough that you couldn’t see the demon on the other side. It made the moment even more terrifying, that you couldn’t see the greater demon that had entered the room.

Your body trembled while the lumbering steps moved closer, and you instinctively tried to close your thighs on the other side of the wall. The cuffs around your ankles bit coldly into your skin, keeping you chained so your legs were spread wide open, your pussy on display and completely vulnerable.

The greater demon came to a stop, and the quiet cacophony of the room filled your ears—the obscene noises of rutting demons and squealing whores sounding loud in the sudden absence of his steps. 

You heard the greater demon give an arrogant scoff before he roared, “GET OUT!”

Even though you’d known the greater demon was there, the strength and power of his roar made you jump, a sharp cry of surprise tearing from your lips before you could bite it back. You felt immediately foolish for such a fearful sound, especially since you could practically feel the greater demon’s attention snap to you.

Your teeth sank deep into your lower lip as you bit back a whimper, your ankles rattling the chains holding your thighs open when you felt the demon’s gaze roam deliberately over your plump thighs and swollen pussy. It felt like he was assessing your suitability for his needs, and you’d never hoped so desperately to be found lacking.

Finally, the greater demon’s gaze moved away from you, and you breathed a sigh of relief.

“I want my pick of the litter, Asmodeus,” the greater demon growled, clearly unhappy that the lesser demons in the room hadn’t cleared out like he’d ordered. They’d simply gone on fucking, lost in their own worlds. “Get this riffraff out of my way.”

“Of course, sire,” Asmodeus said, and you could easily picture the obsequious smile that stretched across your master’s handsome face. 

Three sharp claps sounded within the room, ringing in your head. Then the demon’s voice filled every crevice of the room and your little compartment, forcing you to pay attention to the words.

“Please exit through the door behind me,” Asmodeus commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument despite how polite his words sounded. “You may make use of any other glory hole rooms, but this one is closed.”

There was a good deal of grumbling on the other side of the wall, and the wet sound of cocks being pulled from mouths, pussies and asses. You could even make out some questioning sounds from the other whores, despite the magic that prohibited you from communicating with one another. 

It took a few moments for the room to clear out, and when it was only the greater demon and Asmodeus left, your master spoke to the other. “The room is yours, sire. Please let me know if there’s anything else I can do to make your visit more enjoyable.”

Asmodeus’s quick, light steps retreated and the door to the room snicked shut, the distinct sound of the lock turning making your heart pound a little harder. Then you, and the others, were left alone with the greater demon—and all his wants and whims.

It occurred to you that you didn’t know what type of demon he was, but you didn’t have to wonder for long. The greater demon dropped forward onto all fours, magic crackling in the room as he transformed, and he begun prowling along the wall. His sharp, snuffling inhales were the only sounds in the room.

He was a hellhound, you realized, and you couldn’t fight the whimper that rose up your throat, choking on it as it tumbled from your lips. 

Again, you felt the demon’s attention dart to you, the beast’s gaze feeling heavier and hungrier as he eyed your trembling thighs and weeping pussy. For a long moment, it stayed fixed on you before it skated away and he returned to the hole he’d been inspecting.

In all your time in hell, you’d never encountered a hellhound, but you’d heard of them. The fiends liked to torture you with stories of the whores who’d been ripped apart by hellhounds, their souls too small and weak to withstand being knotted by the great beasts.

Over time, you’d pieced together the history of hellhounds, how they’d begun as simple hounds tasked with chasing down souls owed to hell. However, they’d evolved over the millennia. They’d grown smart enough to take on a human form, allowing them to easier pass in the world of the living and better hunt down souls.

But hellhounds had the ability to shift into their beast form at will, retaining their sharp minds and competency with speech. They were a formidable force, and had worked their way up the hierarchy of hell, their beast forms growing more and more monstrous as they gained power. 

Hellhounds were ruthless, and they cared about little else besides getting their job done and rutting anything with a hole tight enough to be ripped apart by their massive cocks. To hear the fiends tell it, there wasn’t a single human soul that had survived being knotted by a hellhound.

And now there was one prowling closer and closer to where you were tied down and helpless to the greater demon. 

All you could do was pray that he didn’t choose you, that he didn’t intend on ruining the soul of every whore in the room, and have faith that, for once, your prayers would be answered.

Unfortunately, you didn’t have that kind of luck.

It felt like the hellhound spent a short age skulking around the room, scrutinizing what was on offer, but perhaps that was your anxiety and fear making time move more slowly. 

Finally, the beast came to you, his large snout surprisingly soft and velvety as it snuffled down the line of your thigh before lingering near your pussy. His warm breath puffed against your swollen folds, and your body gave an involuntary shiver of delight.

To your great shame, desire gathered like dew on a flower petal between your folds, and leaked down the line of your slit. Unable to do anything but tremble in your chains, you felt a drop of your arousal drip onto the snout of the hellhound. 

The heat of his tongue barely brushed against your warm, swollen folds as he licked your taste from his nose, and you gave a pitiful, almost soundless whimper. Unbidden, the desire grew within your belly, your body aching to feel the monster’s tongue on your cunt. 

A deep, rumbling purr sounded between your thighs, sending your thoughts scattering to the wind. The sound was so low and close to your soft pussy that it fluttered with excitement. You knew the hellhound could sense your body’s response, because its purr kicked up a notch, like the beast was smiling.

You could barely process the flare of pleased pride that bloomed to life between your ribs at the thought of making the hellhound smile before the flat of the creature’s tongue pressed against your pussy. He licked a long, firm line up your weeping slit, from the tight rosebud of your ass all the way to your achy clit.

“Ahh!” The cry of pleasure was ripped from your lungs before you could think to stop it, your spine arching up off the platform where you lay. 

Your hands and feet tugged uselessly at the chains holding you down, but you weren’t trying to get away. Pleasure had  momentarily chased your fear away and your body was moving instinctively to trap the beast’s head between your thighs. You wanted more of his tongue, you wanted the scorching pleasure he had to offer.

The monster let out a husky chuckle that sounded more beastly than human, and lapped at your pussy again. Delightful tingles danced beneath your skin everywhere the hellhound’s tongue touched, making you squirm and writhe beneath his ministrations, seeking more. 

“So responsive,” the hellhound purred against your wet, heated flesh. 

He licked your clit with quick, furious lashes that had you crying out again, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes at the overwhelming pleasure of his hot tongue. Your skin dug mercilessly into the iron cuffs holding you, but you didn’t care, bucking your hips to chase the beast’s tongue.

“Do you like that, pet?” he asked, sounding unbearably patronizing even through the animalistic growl of his voice. “Do you like the way I lick your pretty, puffy pussy?”

God help you, but you did, and you knew it would be your downfall. Because, despite all the warnings of the fiends who’d told you that the hellhound would only destroy you, you were tempted to tell the truth. You wanted to tell him that you loved the feeling of his tongue on your body—that you even desperately wanted more.

You tried to bite your lip against answering the beast’s questions, believing that the truth would damn you to a fate worse than working in Asmodeus’s pleasure house. No matter how bad the glory holes were, it couldn’t possibly be worse than what the hellhound would do to you.

However, the monster took your silence as a challenge, and he chuckled like he was all too happy to meet it—to torture an answer out of you.

The hellhound pressed his tongue more firmly against your pussy, dragging the hot length through your folds, dipping briefly into your hole, before swirling around your clit and nipping at your aching bud with his sharp teeth. When you didn’t break and babble your answer, he huffed another laugh and did it again—and again and again.

All you could do was bite your bottom lip harder, your moans and whines muffled as you panted like a bitch in heat for the hellhound, but still refused to answer him. Your entire body shook violently as the beast pushed you steadily closer and closer to the edge of oblivion, but no matter how you humped against his snout, you couldn’t get there.

“Tell me, pet,” he crooned, his bestial growl reverberating through your cunt and making your mouth fall open on a pitiful moan. “Tell me how much you love my tongue, and I’ll let you come.” He gave your pussy another long, lingering lick. “Maybe I’ll even let you come home with me.”

The thought should’ve sent fear stabbing through your heart, but your body betrayed you—your pussy gave an excited pulse at the idea of going home with the hellhound. It took a great deal of effort for your mind, which was growing quieter and quieter the longer the beast’s tongue was on you, to remember why that wasn’t what you should want.

Besides, it didn’t matter what you wanted. Your soul belonged to Asmodeus, and he’d made it clear when he’d claimed you and brought you to hell that you’d never be anything but one of his whores.

The creature’s teeth grazed your swollen folds as he pushed his tongue deep into your hole, fucking you better than any of the lesser demons who’d tried to give you pleasure, and you whimpered wantonly. It felt so good, you almost forgot how dangerous the hellhound was to your soul.

“Aw, pretty pet, have you already been fucked too dumb to talk? Is that the problem?” The hellhound’s voice was filled with condescending sweetness, which only made your pussy flutter more with desire.

He lapped wildly at your cunt, burying his snout against your clit as his tongue thrust deep inside you, fucking you with the hot, squirming length. In moments, he’d pushed you to the edge. Then, suddenly, he pulled back, refusing to let you fall into oblivion’s embrace.

Feeling bereft, your pussy so wet and aching and needy, you sobbed loudly. It was on the tip of your tongue to tell him how much you liked it, the truth wanting to spill free, and the beast must’ve sensed it.

“Say it, pet,” he purred, the commanding words uttered against your cunt, like the hellhound knew that was the way to your soul. “Say you fucking love my tongue.”

Something inside you broke—whether it was your survival instinct or the numbness protecting your heart, you couldn’t say—and you gave in to the hellhound.

“I love it!” you cried, sobbing with frustration from your denied release. You squirmed on the platform, chasing the beast’s snout and wordlessly begging for more as the truth spilled from your lips. “I love your tongue, sir! Please, fuck me with it, make me come. I’ll say anything you want, do anything you want, just fuck me—please!”

“Good pet,” the hellhound purred against your pussy, burying his snout back against your heated core.

He worked you with his tongue, fucking you deep and hard while his sharp teeth ground against your clit. In mere moments, he drove you back to the edge, oblivion threatening to consume you whole. 

But again, before you could tip over the edge, he pulled away, growling, “Beg me to keep you. Beg me to take you home with me—beg me to make you mine.”

Your mind was too far gone to protest. All you could do was what the beast commanded and hope he’d finally let you come. That was all that mattered in that moment, not your soul or who you belonged to, only your pleasure.

“Please! Please, sir, I—oh fuck,” you cut off on a groan, the hellhound’s tongue diving deep into your pussy. His hot tongue fucked your tight cunt so good, you lost your train of thought, fighting to keep going. “Keep me! I’ll be your perfect pet, please, take me home and make me yours!”

Your words devolved into a sob, tears of need streaming from your eyes and down your temples while your hips writhed as much as you were able through the hole in the wall. Instinctively, your body bore down on the beast’s tongue, trying to match the rhythm of his thrusting.

But instead of giving you the release you so desperately yearned for, the hellhound pulled away again—and you screamed in frustration. The piercing, broken cry tore from your throat so suddenly, you had no hope of biting it back, but it only seemed to please the hellhound.

“Pretty pet, perfect pet,” the creature rumbled between your thighs, a depraved smile dripping from his sharp teeth. “Sound so pretty—sound like mine.”

The hellhound’s snout brushed your clit, making your body jerk and a sharp whine spill from your lips. The praise in his bestial voice sent delicious tingles of delight dancing down your spine, but it wasn’t enough. 

“But you can beg prettier than that.”

“Please,” you mewled pathetically, your voice thready with need. “Master…” The word slipped so easily from your lips, you barely noticed it, until the creature growled a deep, pleased sound.

“Mm, good pet,” he praised, and you could hear the satisfaction in his animalistic growl. “More like that.”

Your heart clenched beneath your ribs and your pussy pulsed at the encouragement from the hellhound. You did as he commanded and begged as pretty as you could.

“I want to be yours, master, please—make me yours,” you pleaded, your voice thick with tears of desperation that wanted to spill down your cheeks. “Take me home, keep me forever. I’ll be so good for you, I swear, I’ll be yours, all yours, only yours!”

The hellhound hummed a sound of acknowledgement. He nonchalantly licked your slit, seeming to enjoy the way you bucked and trembled and mewled for him. After a long, frustrating moment, he flicked his tongue over you clit, making you choke on a gasp.

“Well, since you asked so sweetly,” he murmured, making your heart leap at the thought that he might finally allow you to come.

Your hope barely had time to take root before the hellhound was pulling away. You didn’t even have time to whine in protest because, in the next breath, he sank his sharp teeth into the meat of your thigh.

A scream so piercing, so ear-splitting it made your head ring, tore from your lips as pain sliced through your body. It twisted through you so violently, twining with the lingering pleasure of the hellhound’s tongue, that you came. 

You shattered apart like a glass bottle filled to bursting, your scream blending into the next as pulses of exquisite pain-edged pleasure coursed through your body. It was so overwhelming, so devastating, you had to cling to consciousness by your fingertips. 

All the while, your pussy clenched pathetically around nothing. Unbidden, you desperately wished you’d had a thick cock and bulging knot filling you up, giving you something for your cunt to squeeze. Something in the depths of your soul told you it would feel so good to be knotted by the hellhound…

“That’s a good pet,” the hellhound murmured against your skin, pulling his teeth free and licking the wound he’d left behind. “You come so pretty—made such pretty sounds while I marked you as mine.”

It took a moment for the beast’s words to permeate your pleasure-drunk mind, and when they did, you already felt a pleasantly warm tingling spreading from the place where he’d bitten you. It should’ve worried you, but you were too lost to the lingering bliss of your release to wonder what his words or that feeling meant.

Before your pleasure had fully begun to ebb, the hellhound pulled away from between your thighs, and you felt the crackle of magic in the air again. 

In the next breath, a cock plunged into your still weakly clenching pussy, and you screamed as you came again. It was a sudden, and more sharp release, tearing a broken cry from you, your throat already feeling raw from how much you’d sobbed and screamed for the monster.

“Oh fuck yeah, that’s good,” the hellhound growled, his voice sounding much more human. It was still pleasantly deep, a rich timbre that sent delicious tingles down your spine, and you liked it just as much as his bestial tone.

Belatedly, you realized he must’ve shifted into his human form, and you were surprised at the thoughtfulness of the gesture. He was big, even for a human, and if he’d still been in his monstrous form, you felt certain he would’ve torn you apart. But he’d chosen not to.

A more cynical voice in your head reminded you that demons never did anything out of consideration for others, which meant the hellhound must have a selfish reason for fucking you in his human form—though you couldn’t think of what it could be. Maybe he was just keeping you alive to torture you later…

“Your pussy feels as good as she tastes, pet.”

The hellhound’s words brought you back to the moment, and the warmth in his voice made you feel oddly proud for earning his praise. You offered a tentative, “Th-thank you, master,” in return.

A distinctly human, albeit much larger than normal, hand slid down your unmarked thigh, in what felt like an affectionate gesture. His touch was warm and almost gentle as it stroked down your soft skin, coming to a stop on your lower belly.

He pressed down, making you feel his cock more acutely. 

The hellhound was bigger than any of the lesser demons you’d had, and even though it was a tight fit, it wasn’t uncomfortable. His cock was thick enough to steal the breath from your lungs, and long enough to hit a spot deep inside your pussy that made you clench when his tip brushed against it. 

Altogether, he felt…perfect. More perfect than you ever hoped to find in hell, and you didn’t know if you could trust it. But you wanted to.

“Do you like my cock, pet?” the hellhound asked, as if he could somehow read your mind. 

For a moment, you panicked that he really could before you remembered that wasn’t one of a hellhound’s abilities. But there was one you’d forgotten about—his sense of smell.

“I can smell you, pet,” he explained when you didn’t respond. “I can smell the way you’re dripping with new desire just for my cock. So I’ll ask you again, do you like my cock?”

“I do, master,” you whispered, hoping your honesty would earn you some favor with the monster.

But, for some reason, you couldn’t leave it at that. The hellhound’s cock felt too good, and something deep in your heart urged you to continue, to tell him the full truth of it.

“You feel…” you began, trailing off as your hips squirmed, fucking yourself experimentally on his thick length. “Perfect.” The word slipped from your lips on a contented sigh, a smile curving the corners of your mouth as you settled back onto the platform.

You hadn’t felt such peace as you did while impaled on the hellhound’s cock since you’d been taken to hell. It was such a foreign feeling, it took you a long moment to name it. And once you did, you let yourself submit to it—submit to the hellhound himself.

“Good girl, pet,” the creature cooed from the other side of the wall, his thumb finding your clit and petting it sweetly, earning him a keening moan. “You feel perfect, too,” he murmured, his voice so low you wondered if he was talking more to himself than to you. “Almost too perfect to be real.”

Before you could gather the courage to ask what he meant, the hellhound began to move. He withdrew from your tight heat slowly, making you feel every inch of his thick, veiny shaft, before thrusting back inside and dragging a sharp cry from your lips.

“That’s it, let me hear you, pet,” the monster urged.

He set a brutal pace, his hips clapping against your thighs as he fucked you through the glory hole, every thrust smacking against the bite marks on your skin and sending dizzying pain-edged pleasure dancing through your body. 

“Tell me—tell me how much you fucking love being split open and fucked by your master’s cock.”

“I love it, master!” you cried happily, your hands rattling the chains holding your wrists. You wanted to grab hold of the beast fucking you, you wanted to wrap your thighs around him and hold him tight and never let him go. “I fucking love your cock, love how you’re stretching me open—it’s so good, master, ‘m gonna come again!”

The hellhound let out a delicious, devious chuckle. His thumb tapped your clit lightly, brushing it teasingly, winding you up with the barest of touches while he pounded into your tight cunt. All you could do was squirm, panting and whining for more, as you clawed closer and closer to your release.

“Do it, pet,” the hellhound growled. “Come all over your master’s cock, show me and everyone in this cursed place who you truly belong to.”

With his other hand, he pressed his fingers into the teethmarks he’d left on your thigh, and the sharp spike of pain twisted violently with the pleasure of his cock. You were weak to his dominating pleasure and pain, and in seconds, you were done for. 

Another wretched scream dragged itself from the depths of your soul, filling your small compartment on your side of the wall with the earth-shattering sound as you came. 

Your cunt clenched down viciously on the monster’s cock, sucking him deeper, as if your body was begging for the hellhound’s knot. The greater demon moaned loudly, obscenely, his satisfaction dripping from the sound, and even more pleasure pulsed through your pussy, feeling a perverse sense of pride at making him feel so good.

“Fuck, pet, you’re so tight, feels like you’re sucking me deeper, s’like your pretty cunt wants my knot,” the hellhound growled.

He was sounding less and less human by the second, but you didn’t sense the magic that meant he was shifting. He was just getting closer to his own release, losing control as he took his pleasure in your body.

“Do you want my knot, pretty pet, want me to stuff you full to bursting withe come, then plug you up so it doesn’t spill out?”

“Yes, master!” you cried without thinking. All the warnings the fiends had given you had long since fled from your mind, leaving only a bone-deep need to be knotted by the hellhound. “Knot me—knot my tight little pussy, master, make me yours! Please!”

“Fuck, you’re too fucking perfect—fuck!” 

The hellhound snarled, sounding furious as he pulled free from you still-clenching pussy. With a monstrous roar, the creature came, his come erupting from the tip of his cock and spilling across the same thigh he’d bitten. Rope after rope of come lashed your skin, coating both your thighs until you were dripping with him.

You were so focused on listening to rumbling purrs of satisfaction and the wet sounds of his fist stroking his cock, it took you a moment to notice the tingling sensation in your thigh. Some of the throbbing pain from the beast’s bite marks began to abate, and it almost felt like the marks were healing, supernaturally stitching together.

A low, mournful moan slipped from your lips at the feeling, and a desperate part of you hoped that whatever was happening, it wouldn’t remove the marks entirely. You wanted something to remember the hellhound by after he inevitably left you behind in the pleasure house.

After all, he was a greater demon and you were nothing more than a common whore of a soul. 

Even after all his talk about how perfect you felt, and how he wanted to take you home and make you his, you didn’t really believe he intended to follow through. Demons said a lot of things they didn’t mean during sex.

Besides, it didn’t matter whether he really did want to make you his. Asmodeus owned your soul and he’d never allow the hellhound to keep you.

So, you might never get to go home with the hellhound whose name you didn’t even know, but you hoped at least he’d leave his mark behind. It would be a reminder of the best sex of your life—and your afterlife. 

With a sad sigh, you closed your eyes, praying to keep the tears gathering between your lashes at bay at least as long as it took the hellhound to leave. His heavy breathing on the other side of the wall had evened out and you tried to prepare yourself for him to abandon you to your fate at the pleasure house.

To your surprise, though, he spoke. His voice had lost the animalistic growl he’d had while buried balls-deep in your body, and he sounded much more calm and collected when he muttered, “Asmodeus, come.”

It made you snicker to hear your demon master spoken to like a dog, the tears receding from your eyes as you curiously tuned in to what was happening on the other side of the wall. 

Though you’d tried to be quiet about it, the hellhound’s hearing was sharp enough that he must’ve heard your mirthful sound, because his hand dropped to your unmarked thigh, giving you what felt like an affectionate squeeze.

Your heart thumped happily in your chest in response, and you had to remind the silly organ not to be so fond of the hellhound. Even though he hadn’t left immediately after he was done with you, it didn’t mean he was serious about taking you home with him—no matter how much you wanted it to be true.

A moment later, the owner of the pleasure house—and your soul—stepped into the room. “What can I do for you, sire?” he asked, his voice seductive in the same way as a snake oil salesman’s.

“I’ll take this one’s contract off your hands,” the hellhound said, sending a jolt of surprise straight through your heart. You held your breath, barely daring to hope. “I’m taking her home with me,” he said, patting your thigh and leaving no room for confusion about who he meant.

Tentative excitement flooded your body at the prospect of escaping the glory holes and being taken in by a beast who seemed much more caring and attentive than your current master. Inexplicably, your soul yearned to belong to the hellhound, and you were so happy that it seemed to be coming true.

Still, the rational side of your mind reminded you Asmodeus was unlikely to give you up so easily. He owned your soul for eternity, per the contract with the men who’d sacrificed you to him, and it would require a steep price to sell your soul to another demon.

“That’s not—This isn’t…” Asmodeus stammered, seemingly caught off guard by the hellhound’s offer. He went silent and you heard him taking in a deep breath. When he spoke again, his voice was smooth, but cold. “My whores are not for sale, sire.”

The honorific was bitten off like a curse, but the hellhound didn’t seem rankled. In fact, he chuckled, like the other demon’s protests were nothing more than child’s play.

“This one is, and I’m buying her.” The hellhound’s words were friendly enough, but there was a bite to them, like he was snapping his sharp teeth, and you could practically hear Asmodeus recoil. “Either that, or I’ll take her by force. Don’t let it come to that.”

By the end of his warning, the hellhound had abandoned all pretense of friendliness, his words dripping with violence the way you imagined blood might drip from his sharp teeth. Something about the way the hellhound spoke filled you with an immense amount of pride—he was a fearsome demon, you could tell, and his warning wasn’t to be taken lightly.

Thankfully, Asmodeus was smarter than he looked and sounded, and he quickly acquiesced to the hellhound’s demands.

With a few snaps of his fingers, Asmodeus used his magic to unlock the cuffs binding you to your platform, and to transport you into the room where he and the hellhound stood. 

Your legs gave out as soon as your feet touched the ground, so unused to standing and so wrung out by your recent releases, you had no hope of keeping your legs under you. 

The hellhound deftly caught you around the waist before you could fall, and he gathered you up in his big, strong arms. Your bare, naked body was crushed against a hard body clad in silky satin, buttery soft cotton and deliciously decadent velvet—all in a deep, fathomless black.

Your eyes caught on the strong chest before you, lingering on the way the hellhound’s cloak draped so perfectly over his broad shoulders, the satin of his shirt clinging enticingly to the muscles beneath, unbuttoned enough to reveal a peak of dark hair against golden skin.

Lifting your eyes almost reluctantly, you looked up into the face of your new master—and couldn’t believe your good luck.

The hellhound was attractive beyond belief. Sun-kissed golden brown hair was swept back from his classically handsome face, a smattering of freckles dusted across the straight line of his nose. Crystal blue eyes, which looked like they were mined from the finest sapphires on earth, stared back at you, a spark of interest in their depths.

His human form wore a dark beard, which made him look equal parts distinguished and fearsome, even as it framed a pair of lips so inviting, you couldn’t help but let out a soft sigh of yearning. As you watched, the hellhound’s mouth quirked into a small smirk, like he enjoyed the way you were staring at his lips.

“I am Steve Rogers,” the hellhound said, his eyes roaming your face hungrily, and you were pleased to see he appeared to like what he saw. “What’s your name, pet?”

In a raspy voice, your throat still raw from all the screaming you’d done in pleasure, you gave him your name; he hummed in acknowledgement, turning it over on it his tongue, like a gem to be examined carefully. 

Unable to stop yourself, you asked the question that was plaguing your heart. “Are you really taking me home, m-master?” There was an eager note to your voice and you could tell Steve heard it by the subtle way he cocked his head.

“Outside the bedroom, you may call me ‘my lord’,” he said, calloused fingers smoothing over your face, gently rubbing the salt from the corners of your eyes where your tears had dried. “And yes I’m taking you home.” He cupped your chin, tilting your face up toward his so he could search your eyes. “You’ll live with me now, because I’m going to keep you forever, isn’t that right, pet?”

There was a somberness in his expression, and you got the impression that if you’d said no, or protested in any other way, Steve would’ve left you alone. But you didn’t want that—you wanted him. 

A tentative smile curved the corner of your mouth as you stared up into the eyes of the hellhound who would rescue you from the afterlife of your nightmares. He looked every bit your savior, even with the monster hiding within.

“Right, my lord,” you murmured, turning your head and pressing a kiss into his warm palm. 

Your eyes slipped closed as you inhaled his scent—something spicy and wild, as untamable as an whipping wind on an October night—and let the tension in your shoulders ease. The hellhound smelled right somehow, like he was yours just as much as you were his.

“Good pet,” Steve cooed, bringing you back to the moment, shifting his hand to stroke your cheek affectionately. 

Then he turned to Asmodeus, who was watching the two of you with a faintly sick look on his face. 

“Do what must be done to transfer her contract to me,” the hellhound commanded, taking off his cloak and wrapping it around your shoulders, swathing you in his warmth and scent. “Name your price—whatever it is, she’s worth it.”

You tucked your face into the plush velvet of the cloak at your shoulder, and breathed in Steve’s scent, letting it fill your lungs and bring peace to your mind. The gesture earned a fond stroke from the hellhound, his mouth curving into a smile as he looked at you. 

“At least let me wash her up a bit before you take her,” Asmodeus tried, and you stiffened in Steve’s arms, not liking the idea of being separated from him, even for a few moments to take a bath. 

Though your reaction might’ve surprised you, it paled in comparison’s to the hellhound’s response to Asmodeus’s suggestion.

“Leave her!” Steve roared, tucking you tighter into his body and turning away to hide you from the other demon’s sight. 

On instinct, your fingers undid a few buttons of Steve’s shirt and you slipped your hands inside, pressing against his hot skin. Your touch seemed to soothe the demon, and he visibly calmed, rolling his shoulders and swiping a hand through his hair while the other wrapped around the back of your neck. 

“I’ve marked her as mine,” Steve said, sounding just a touch sheepish. “She can’t be cleaned up yet or the mark won’t take properly.”

The teethmarks on your thigh tingled, and you almost snorted at the hellhound’s arrogance. He marked you as his before he’d even been granted permission by the demon who owned your soul. The master of the pleasure house could make things difficult for you and Steve if he wanted to—thankfully, he didn’t seem to want to.

Asmodeus heaved a heavy sigh, sounding like he carried the weight of the underworld on his shoulders, and gave a weary shake of his head. Then he flicked his wrist, conjuring a scroll of paper from thin air. He unspooled it, summoned a quill and handed the document over to Steve.

The demons completed the contract amendment transferring ownership of your soul over to Steve Rogers, signing their names, and then it was done. 

Before the ink was even dry, the hellhound lifted you into his thick arms, his supernatural strength and size making it easy. He gave you a moment to get settled, tucking his cloak in around your body, as he nuzzled your cheek. 

“Ready to go home, pet?” Steve asked warmly, brushing a sweet kiss to the apple of your cheek, teasing your skin with the roughness of his beard. 

You heard Asmodeus gag as he retreated from the room, and you couldn’t help but say a silent prayer the door would hit him in the ass on the way out. 

Once he was gone, you gave Steve your full attention, your fingers sinking into the coarse hair of his beard and pulling him close to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“Yes, my lord,” you murmured against his mouth. “Take me home.”

If the hellhound bristled at being commanded by his pet, he showed no sign of it. Instead, Steve grinned fondly, and then he was whisking you through the pleasure house, bringing you to the portal that would take him anywhere in hell he wanted to go.

Steve clutched you tighter against his chest, then stepped through.

All the oxygen was sucked from your lungs, and if you’d still been living, you would’ve perished immediately. As it was, your head spun violently, feeling as though you’d been sucked up into the vortex of a tornado. 

It was a small eternity and less than a second before Steve’s leather boots landed firmly on the other side of the portal. 

“Alright, kitten?” he asked, his voice sounding fuzzy and far away. 

Your senses came back into focus slowly, your mind following the sparkle in Steve’s eyes and the curve of his smile back from the darkness that had threatened to drag you under. The hellhound waited until you gave him a nod and a smile in return before he began walking. 

Glancing around, you found yourself in a dark mansion, lit largely by the ethereal red-tinged glow that permeated hell. It had a vacant feeling, like it hadn’t been occupied in a while, but there were signs of life.

The dark wallpapered walls and even darker wooden floors were broken up by some pops of color—sensual art hung on the walls, violet and crimson plants on accent tables and shelves. Dark wooden furniture was upholstered with sumptuous black velvet, and gorgeous brocade curtains hung over the windows.

Altogether, it looked more cozy than dreary, and you hoped to get to explore, though it would have to another time.

Without stopping to let you look around, Steve strode through the mansion like he was on a mission. He carried you upstairs to the master bedroom, promising to give you a proper tour later. 

He tugged his cloak from your shoulders and spread you out on a massive bed, laying you down on black silk sheets and pillows that felt like the most luxurious clouds beneath your back. 

You took a quick, cursory glance around the room, finding it decorated in much the same way as the rest of the mansion, before returning your gaze to the hellhound. He stood at the foot of the bed, his blue eyes dark with hunger as they roamed purposefully over you body, taking in every inch of your naked form. 

“Gorgeous,” Steve growled, his handsome face twisting with a greedy sort of lust that had your heart pitter-pattering excitedly. 

When his gaze reached your thigh, it lingered. A dark, fathomless possessiveness flashed in his eyes as he stared at the marks he’d left on your skin.

Curious, you glanced down and saw it for the first time. 

Half of your thigh was dotted with the curved outline of teethmarks left by the impressively big bite of the hellhound’s bestial form. Something in your belly fluttered excitedly at the undeniable mark that had scabbed and scarred already, leaving what appeared to be a permanent brand on your skin the shape of Steve’s teeth.

Unbidden, and at perhaps the most inopportune moment, the warnings of the fiends resurfaced in your mind. All evidence seemed to indicate Steve wanted to keep you in sound health and mind, but you couldn’t help the little niggle of worry that the hellhound was just playing with his food before he devoured your soul.

“Are you going to kill me?” 

The question popped from your mouth before you could think to stop it, knowing how nonsensical it sounded—after all, you were already dead. Still, Steve was a greater demon, and he could certainly harm you more than a lesser demon ever could.

The hellhound’s head cocked to the side again and he looked at you curiously, his brows furrowed with confusion. “Why would you ask that, pet?”

His question was gentle enough, but you weren’t sure how to proceed—how much you should tell him about what the fiends had said. “I…”

Your gaze dropped from the demon’s handsome face to the satin shirt clinging to his chest. It was tucked smartly into tailored black pants, which revealed the bulge that had already begun to grow at the sight of you naked on his bed. 

You almost abandoned your question entirely, thinking Steve Rogers and his hellhound cock might be worth risking your entire being.

“You can tell me anything,” Steve said, his voice gently coaxing. Slowly, he climbed onto the bed, prowling up the length of your body until he face was above yours. His eyes searched yours intently. “Tell me.”

As if of their own accord, your lips parted and spilled your secrets to the hellhound. 

“Some of the fiends at the pleasure house would…tell me things,” you began, and once you’d started, the rest poured out in a rush between breaths. “They wanted to scare me, and they loved to tell me how lucky I was not to be fucked by a hellhound, because a hellhound’s knot would tear me apart, drive me insane, and destroy my soul—all of the above.”

For a moment Steve just stared at you, no doubt taking in the fear evident in your wide eyes and trembling lower lip. Then he heaved a sigh and lay down beside you, tucking you in against his chest while he wiped a hand down his face. You got the impression he was trying to tamp down on his frustration, and you waited for him to compose himself.

Once he’d regained control of himself, he looked down at you, his thumb stroking gently over your cheek. 

“It’s true that a hellhound’s knot is large—even larger when we’re in our hound form,” Steve admitted, his fingertips tracing the curves of your face and down the line of your nose, like he was learning the shape of you. “But it’s not anything you can’t take, I promise.”

You let loose a sigh of relief you didn’t know you’d been holding on to, anxiety melting from your body at Steve’s reassuring words and the gentle way he touched your face.

“Why would they say that, then?” you asked, your curiosity getting the better of you again.

Steve gave you a wry grin as his fingertips traced your bottom lip. You wanted so badly to nip playfully at him, but you were too eager for his answer to distract him.

“Fiends resent the way hellhounds evolved,” Steve explained. “We rose up the ranks of hell, and they’ve stayed at the bottom, even after a millennia.”

Before you could stop yourself, you huffed an indignant sound on Steve’s behalf. “Sounds like a them problem to me,” you muttered, rolling your eyes at the tiny egos of the fiends. 

Steve gave a deep, rumbling chuckle that had all the nerve endings in your body perking up, your nipples tightening as the gentle reverberations traveled down your spine. 

“Demons aren’t exactly known for taking accountability for their actions,” Steve teased, his voice light and sweet as he brushed a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

Just that teasing touch had a soft moan slipping from your lips, and Steve pulled back, his sharp gaze watching you closely. Pouting, you turned your head and tipped your face toward him, wordlessly asking for more.

When he hesitated, as if wanting to make sure you knew what you were asking for, you whispered a soft, desperate, “Please.”

That one word from your lips made something in the hellhound snap; he closed the distance between you in less than a second, slanting his mouth to yours in a kiss.

Pops of color exploded in your mind’s eye at the first touch of his soft mouth against yours, delightful tingles cascading from the crown of your head down to the tips of your toes as you reveled in the perfect feeling of his kiss.

Then his tongue, hot and gentle, flicked playfully against the seam of your lips and you moaned, granting him entry to explore. Steve took everything you gave him, slipping into your mouth and stroking your tongue to tangle with his until the two of you were lost in each other.

For a long while, the two of you simply kissed, learning each other—what made you gasp, what made him groan—until the heat building in your body grew too insistent to ignore. Your arms circled Steve’s broad shoulders, fingers diving into his soft hair, and you pulled him on top of you.

“Clothes off, now,” you mumbled against the demon’s mouth, enjoying the delicious rasp of his beard against your cheeks. He broke away to brush tickling kisses down your neck and you whined, your fingers tugging insistently on the satin of his shirt. 

“Demanding little thing, aren’t you, pet?” he purred in that deliciously patronizing voice, and you hissed like a spitting kitten. Steve chuckled indulgently, like you’d lived up to the other pet name he’d given you, but was smart enough to strip quickly out of his clothes. 

When he was naked, Steve allowed you to push him onto his back. You straddled his body, perching on his thighs to get a good look at his human form. 

He was slightly larger than a normal man, but by no means as monstrous as the fiends would’ve had you believe. Still, he looked formidable, with broad shoulders and thick muscles cording his arms. There was a lurking danger to Steve Rogers that was a constant reminder of his status as a greater demon.

But sprawled on his back, a grin teasing at the edges of his mouth, he looked completely at ease. It made it easy to feel comfortable around him, to explore him.

Steve tucked an arm behind his head, propping himself up to watch as your hands wandered his body, tracing some scars lingering on his shoulders, fingers raking through the pelt of hair on his chest. He wheezed slightly when you dug your fingers into his abdomen, feeling the soft layer of padding covering the hard muscle beneath.

Then you reached his cock, which stood proudly between his tree-trunk thighs. 

It was so large, you could hardly believe you’d already taken it—and that you’d taken it so easily. Though, as you reminded yourself, you had been in the throes of a devastating release when he’d thrust inside you for the first time. No wonder it had set you off in a second orgasm when he’d done so.

Scooting forward, you pressed Steve’s thick cock against your body, the tip of him lining up with your belly button; your eyes widened, surprised all over again.

At the base, you could feel the slight bulge of his knot, which would inflate fully just before he came. Already, it was thick enough that when you wrapped both hands around it, your fingers didn’t touch. Your pussy gave an excited flutter at the idea of feeling his knot inside you, plugging you full while he filled you with come.

Still, you couldn’t help but voice the obvious question: “You’re bigger in your hound form!?” you asked incredulously, glancing up at Steve, who wore a self-satisfied smirk on his handsome face. 

“A little less than doubly as big, yes,” he said smugly, clearly very pleased with the size of himself.

You would’ve laughed at how arrogant he sounded if it weren’t for the tremor of trepidation that snaked down your spine. You knew Steve had promised you could take him, but you suddenly weren’t so sure. He looked so big already, you couldn’t imagine the cock and knot of his hound form fitting inside your human-sized cunt.

Steve must’ve sensed your hesitation because he sat up, gathering you in his arms and tipping your face toward his to look him in the eye. He gave you a reassuring smile.

“You’ve already taken me like this, pretty pet,” he reminded you in a warm, rumbly voice that had your toes curling in delight. “I promise it won’t hurt to take me in my other form—I’d never want to hurt you.”

He captured your lips in a sweet kiss, as if sealing his promise like a deal. 

You didn’t know if you should trust Steve’s word—he was a demon, after all—but he hadn’t given you any reason not to. Besides, something deep in your soul told you that he was someone you could count on. So you decided you were willing to take a leap of faith for the hellhound.

Having made your decision to trust him, you kissed Steve harder, pouring your faith into him until he was groaning, his cock twitching and leaking precum against your belly.

Without breaking the kiss, you rose up onto your knees, your fingers wrapping around his cock, just beneath the head, and lined him up with your dripping hole. You were wet again from making out with the hellhound and exploring his naked form, and it didn’t take much work to lower yourself on the full length of him.

Steve broke away from the kiss with a half-feral groan, harmonizing with the moans spilling freely from your lips. Then you began to ride him slowly, sensuously, taking your time because you had all the time in the underworld.

The two of you made the most of it, exploring each other further. 

Steve suckled on your tits, lapping the flat of his tongue over your nipples until you were whining in his lap, your hips jerking with each rough graze against your sensitive buds. The hellhound worshipped your tits in a way you’d never experienced before, sucking on your nipples and kneading your soft flesh until you were a limp, needy mess in his arms.

For your part, your hands roamed freely over the hellhound’s body, carding through his hair, down his corded neck and over his broad shoulders. You learned how his muscles bunched beneath his skin as he bounced you slowly on his cock, and how his eyes slid closed and his expression looked almost pained when you dug your nails possessively into his skin.

After what seemed like an eon, you felt Steve’s knot begin to inflate as he hurtled closer to his release, yours not far behind. Before you could be lost to the pleasure, though, you had a sudden need that took hold and wouldn’t let you go. 

“I want to try,” you gasped, the words bursting free from you before you could stuff the desire back down into the depth of your soul where it came from.

Steve lifted his head from your tits, revealing a smattering of hickeys that he’d bitten and sucked into your skin. It looked like the scatter of stars in the clear sky of an October night, and you were momentarily distracted while the hellhound blinked the lust from his dazed eyes.

“What’s that, pet?” he asked, his voice warm and a little slurred. 

Pride pricked at your heart and you couldn’t help the way your mouth curved into a smug smirk at the sight of him, the fearsome hellhound brought so low by your human pussy. It gave you the confidence boost you needed to tell Steve what you really wanted. 

“I want to take you in your hound form,” you explained, grinding idly on his cock, your hips restless and unable to sit still, especially at the prospect of taking Steve’s bigger, thicker cock and his monstrous knot. “I want to take your knot—your full knot.”

Steve went still beneath you, and he blinked a few more times, his gaze growing sharper each time. He looked at you closely, as if searching for any hint of the hesitation you’d shown earlier. But you knew better than he did that it was gone—he’d fucked it out of you with his human cock and you wanted more. You wanted all of him.

“You’re sure, pet?” Steve asked, one of his big hands pressing to your lower back to still your rocking hips. The other cupped your face, holding you like you were something precious and breakable. “We don’t have to do that today, we can do it whenever you’re ready.”

You were already shaking your head. Your mind was made up and your heart and soul knew this was what you needed.

“If we wait, the anticipation will eat me alive,” you told Steve, holding his gaze and imploring him to see the honesty in yours. “I want to take you now, I want to be yours—fully. Forever.”

Steve watched you for a moment longer, then a wolfish grin spread across his handsome face. He kissed you deeply, and you felt every bit of his passion and deepening affection as it poured past your lips. When you were breathless and restless with excitement, he finally pulled away and lifted you off his lap.

Magic crackled in the air of the bedroom as you watched Steve shift, the transformation so smooth and quick you could barely see the way his handsome face disappeared into the shaggy visage of a big, black dog. Still, you would’ve recognized those crystal blue eyes anywhere, staring at you with hunger and fondness. 

His hound form was massive and you suddenly understood the need for the big bed, but he didn’t look particularly scary—at least not with his familiar eyes and his tongue lolling adorably out of his mouth.

With a grin, you reached out and ran a had through the soft fur on top of his head, moving to scratch behind one ear. The hellhound’s eyes closed and he gave a contented, growly purr. 

“Mm, that feels good, kitten,” Steve rumbled, his voice more bestial again, like when he’d been eating you out in the pleasure house. 

For a moment, the hellhound reveled in your touch, and sat patiently while you petted him, exploring what spots were most likely to make him purr. But then you got a glimpse of his cock jutting out from between his hind legs, looking so big and thick and monstrous that you gave a sharp gasp.

Steve’s eyes snapped open and before you could get too intimidated, he pushed his snout against your shoulder, urging you to turn around. He arranged you on the bed on all fours, your head down against the silk sheets and your ass in the air.

You fought against the fear that wanted to sneak into your belly, reminding yourself Steve wouldn’t hurt you. You didn’t know how you knew, you just did. You had faith, you believed in him. 

Steve moved over you, mounting your body from behind, one of his forelegs wrapping around the front of your hips while the other pressed to the bed, holding himself up so he didn’t crush your much smaller form. 

His soft fur brushed against your bare back, the wild, spicy scent of him settling around your shoulders like his cloak had earlier, and you instinctively relaxed. Arching your spine, you presented yourself to the hellhound, smiling when he gave a purr of encouragement.

“Ready, kitten?” Steve asked, his claws digging lightly into the soft flesh of your hip. The mark on your thigh gave a throb, pleasure spreading to your core, and you nodded.

“Yes, master,” you purred, baring the length of your neck in the ultimate sign of submission. 

Steve’s purr deepened, sounding suddenly more satisfied, as he raked his sharp teeth over the base of your throat, sending goose bumps rising across your skin. But he didn’t bite down.

Instead, Steve pushed in from behind, and you gasped at the feel of him—he was so warm, so big and so…strange. His cock was hotter in this form, the tip of him more pointed. It made it easier for him to sink inside you, your body stretching to accommodate his thick girth.

“Good pet, taking my cock so well,” he purred, teeth nipping playfully at your shoulder in a way that made you smile and moan at the same time. “You’re squeezing me so good—fuck.”

The hellhound cut off on a curse when he bottomed out in your body, his monstrous cock buried to the hilt in your tight heat. For a moment, the two of you hung suspended in pleasure, in the rightness of the way your bodies joined together perfectly, like you were made for one another.

“Didn’t I tell you that you could take me, kitten?” Steve teased, his voice warm and growly and so self-satisfied you knew he was smirking, even in his hound form.

You huffed a laugh, though it sounded more breathless and desperate than you’d intended. It made Steve’s cock shift slightly inside you, the hot length of him rubbing against your sensitive inner walls and you forgot why you were laughing. All that mattered was the hellhound’s cock and the pleasure it promised.

“Oh fuck, Steve, you feel sooo good,” you moaned, trying to fuck yourself on his hard length. “I loooove your cock, master, love it so much, want to live like this, want to live on your knot,” you babbled, drool dribbling from your mouth to the silk sheets under your cheek.

“Careful, pet,” Steve purred, sounding much too pleased with himself—at least until his hips pulled back and he slammed forward, plunging deeper into your tight, hot cunt. “You’re sounding like a cockdrunk little slut already, and I haven’t even started fucking you properly yet.”

“Fuck me braindead, master,” you begged, the words spilling from your lips, all sense having fled from the first thrust of the hellhound’s cock. “Use my cunt for your pleasure, make me your perfect fucktoy, please!”

Steve gave a ferocious growl, snapping his hips and fucking you harder, more purposefully, but you knew he was holding back. Again, you didn’t know how you knew it, you just did, and it made you sob with frustration, even as pleasure mounted in your core.

“More,” you begged Steve, nuzzling against the paw planted beside your head. “Harder—please, Steve, I can take it!”

“That’s my fucking girl,” Steve purred against your cheek, his tongue licking the salty tears spilling from your eyes. “You’re such a perfect little fuckpet, aren’t you? And all mine. My perfect little fuckpet.”

“Yes, yes, yes, all yours, yours, yours,” you chanted, babbling nonsense as Steve pounded into you, imprinting the shape of his monstrous cock on the very fabric of your soul. 

It wasn’t long before you couldn’t form words any longer, your lips moving mindlessly as moans poured from your mouth, your body and mind submitting to the pleasure of being fucked by your hellhound. You’d never experienced such exquisite, perfect pleasure, and all you could do was give yourself to it.

“Come on my cock, sweet pet,” Steve growled in your ear, his snout nuzzling your cheek, tongue slipping into your mouth to taste your moans straight from your lips. “Let me feel you come before I knot this pretty pussy and stuff you full of my seed.”

The foreleg that had been wrapped around your hips shifted, his paw shoving between your thighs until his claw found your clit. He stroked your puffy pearl mercilessly, pounding you brutally with his cock, murmuring more words of sweet praise in your ear. 

The hellhound’s perfect cock and all that he did to you set you off like a rocket, shooting you into the ether and making you scream as you exploded into tiny, dazzling sparks of pleasure. For a moment, you lingered in heavenly bliss, unsure if it was real, before you came rushing back down to hell.

Your limbs were shaking uncontrollably, pleasure rolling through every muscle of your body, making your fingers and toes tingle with it. Wave after wave of white-hot ecstasy poured through you, the most wrecked, broken sobs of pleasure spilling from your lips.

It was only a second later, though it had seemed an eternity, when Steve roared his own release, spurred on by the way your cunt clenched violently down on his cock. He rutted deep into your body, his knot inflating quickly and stretching you to the point that you felt like you were being split open and stitched back together all at once.

With a scream that joined the roar of your hellhound, you came again, your bodies convulsing together, Steve’s forelegs holding you tightly pinned beneath his massive form while his cock twitched inside your pussy. He unloaded thick ropes of come inside you, so much that you felt beyond full with it.

For long moments, you floated in the aftershocks of bliss, feeling deliciously stuffed full, Steve’s knot keeping you plugged so none of his come dripped out of you. His cock kept twitching, emptying his balls deep in your cunt and flooding your womb.

When you were both finally sated, Steve rolled you onto your sides, where you could lay more comfortably together until his knot deflated. He pulled you close to his chest, your body tucked deep into his warm fur, the scent of him—even more wild in his hound form—making you hum happily and snuggle into him.

Glancing down your body, you saw your belly was slightly distended and round from all the come Steve had pumped inside you, and you stroked the little bump affectionately. 

Steve’s shaggy head lifted from where it lay and he watched your fingers, one of his forepaws joining you in petting the bump he’d made in your body. The rough scrape of his paw against your skin made you shiver, a soft mewl slipping from your lips.

“Careful, kitten,” he warned, his voice even lower and more rumblier with satisfaction. “You keep being so perfect, and I’ll have to put a litter of pups in you.”

Your heart thumped excitedly in your chest, and your pussy gave a weak, equally happy clench. Steve chuckled at your body’s response, the sound sending delicious little tingles of delight dancing down your spine.

“Oh, you like that idea, huh?” he asked, his voice warm with affectionate teasing. “Want me to knock you up with my hellhound pups?” You could hear a thread of uncertainty in his tone, and it made you eager to give him an honest answer.

“I do, my lord,” you murmured, barely having to think about it. Like everything else that came to your hellhound, you just knew. Turning your head, you pressed a kiss to Steve’s snout.

He panted happily, his tongue lolling out of his mouth at he gave you a particularly wolfish grin. Then he licked the side of your face, making you giggle and squirm, wringing a moan from your lips as you felt his knot tug inside your pussy.

Steve urged you to settle down again, and the two of you fell into a comfortable silence. It wasn’t long before the deep, steady breaths of the hellhound, his warm fur, and the perfect full feeling of his knot inside you lulled you to the edge of sleep. 

So this story ends on Halloween, with you falling asleep in the arms of your hellhound. It ends with the beginning of the rest of your afterlife.

Your life may have been cut short, and you may have started your afterlife as nothing more than a demon’s whore. But at Steve Rogers’ side, you build an afterlife where you’re endlessly happy, surrounded by the love and light you never knew in life.

To your great surprise, it turned out that being claimed by a hellhound on Halloween was the best thing that could’ve happened to you. It brought you to your happy ending.

thank you for reading! comments and reblogs are appreciated!! ♡

 You were curled up under a desk, holding a wet cloth against your mouth. He silently appreciated that you survived this long – the wet cloth did a solid job filtering the smoke from the air. If you didn’t, he’s certain he wouldn’t have made it on time.

Your eyes found him despite the smoke, eyebrows furrowed, not understanding, not knowing why he’s there. Yet, your hand shakily reached forward.

“Help, please” you whimpered.

You didn’t recognize him. He knew you wouldn’t. You only met once – one night, when he was pulled out of his misery and put in another one, in the role of a hellhound that he wielded until today.

He remembered you because you were the first person he saw. And the first person a hellhound sees after its first death is forever ingrained in its memory. Like first love turning eternal, the bane of its existence.

You must have forgot him. But Mingi never did. He always looked out for you – as much as his duties allowed. He sometimes wished he was free from his Master, so that he could chase after you and spend the rest of his second life with you. Maybe it was a bit creepy; maybe he was stalking you to get there. He just never really had a better option.

Right now, just like he did all those years ago, you stood at the brink of death and the opposite of you, stood Mingi, covered in flames that stuck to him without damaging, like a second skin.

He extended his hand to you and you flinched away, seeing as it was covered in fire.

“I can save you if you hold my hand” he spoke.

You hesitated, looking at his hand. It was cruel of him, he knew. It was the best he could do, really. He could save you – he could get you out of here. But it would hurt you, and you needed to know that. You needed to make that choice yourself.

And you did.

You let out a scream, and it died when he pulled you to him and held against his chest. The fire that covered him wouldn’t burn you – just like it didn’t burn him. It was a special kind of fire, the one that only lived when ignited. The hellfire, his own weapon, his own attire, his own nature. Created to cause pain but never kill.

To his surprise, you didn’t let go. He guided your hand to your mouth again, wordlessly commanding you to keep filtering the air coming in. You focused on that task, letting him pick you up and hold against him as he turned around. He would get you out of here. He promised he would never let you die. Not like this, at least.

He should take you to a hospital, he thought, as he laid you down on the long bench in the nearby park. The darkness of night was dispersed only by the faint glow of the orange sky. The smell of smoke clung to the two of you, but the fire was left far behind, and he noticed your poor, sweat-covered body shiver in the cold air.

The sirens echoed in the distance. They would be nearby soon and then he would take you there.

For now, just for this little bit, he wanted to take you in, to relish in your presence this one time that he’d been finally granted it. He deserved as much for saving you. And even if he didn’t, even if it was a mistake on his part, he wanted to do it anyway.

He had never seen you as vulnerable as you were now.

Your eyes opened. You fainted for a bit when the two of you passed through the building, probably from pain. But you were awake now, only shivering like a leaf, like a wet puppy, too small and too fragile to warm yourself back up.

“Who… are you?”

Your lips form the question even though it must be the last thought on your poor, tormented mind.

He sat next to you, looking down at your face. You looked up at him, although weakly. His hands itched to reach out to you, to caress your face until you fell asleep again. Maybe you would let him – given your pitiful state, you wouldn’t be able to tell him no. Maybe you wouldn’t even think it’s inappropriate. But he couldn’t do that to you. It wouldn’t be right.

“I’m nobody” he finally replied. He hesitated for a moment. “You probably won’t see me again.”

“You saved me.” The words came out quiet, but certain. “I won’t ever be able to pay you back.” Your voice was strained. “What’s your name?”

He hesitated for just a moment.

“Mingi. The name’s Mingi.”

“Have I ever met you before? You look familiar.”

His breath hitched, lips parting, eyes staring. He didn’t know what to say. He wondered how much you remembered. Or if you really remembered – or if you just saw someone familiar enough.

“Don’t worry about it” he finally whispered.

Tearing his gaze away from you came with difficulty. He stared at the park surrounding the two of you. The red hue covered the sky somewhere behind the trees, and the noise of sirens quieted down, implying that they had finally arrived. He stood up.

“Can you stand up? I will take you to the ambulance.”

“I’m fine…”

“Don’t be stupid. I saved you, you better not waste it.” He said it as a joke, but the worry was genuine. You cared too little about yourself – he had noticed it before already, staying up late, working late – the very reason you had been put in this predicament in the first place, most of other people already having left the office, and only you, poor thing, stuck on that floor without a way out. If only you didn’t overwork yourself like a fool.

You let out a sigh, but pushed yourself up into a seat. Slowly, at first, your arms wobbling, your breath picking up at the strain. He watched as you placed your feet on the ground and then forced yourself up. Your knees almost gave out underneath you, but he quickly followed, wrapping his arm around your torso, keeping you up and helping you walk forward. He could carry you, he thought – but he didn’t want you to fall asleep again. 

“How did you know I’m there?” you suddenly asked.

He pressed his lips together. The reply didn’t come for the next few moments.

“Is that the only thing you are curious about?” he tried to divert your attention.

“No… I have a lot of questions.”

“But we don’t have that much time.”

The silhouette of the ambulance appeared in the distance, alongside some people rushing to help others. The pulse of blue and red lights. There shouldn’t have been many victims, really, and he hoped you won’t have to wait for them to take care of you.

 The air shifted behind the two of you. It was subtle, almost unnoticeable – you most certainly didn’t take note of it. But Mingi did, and he stopped in his tracks.

“So this is her?”

He turned around.

His Master took a step forward, face nothing but curious as he took in the sight.

You, too, stared at him now, as if instinctively sensing he’s something otherworldly. Mingi felt you press into him with some form of plea. He sensed fear on you. He could smell it. A different kind of fear than before. Something more primal, more urgent. Something that he was taught to catch the whiff of from afar and follow, like the hound that he was.

Hongjoong often caused that in people.

“You know you shouldn’t be here, right?” His gaze shifted to Mingi now, a slight smile on his face. The smile was anything but warm, and Mingi cleared his throat.

“I-I know, but… she is… I couldn’t…” His throat felt dry. He had no excuse. No explanation that Hongjoong already didn’t know.

“I know, Mingi, I’ve heard it before. I don’t blame you.”

The words were too sweet for the tone they were spoken with. It dripped with something – not with venom, no, it was more like… quicksilver. Beautiful and enticing, until you understood its lethality.

“Put the human in the ambulance and come back to me” Hongjoong finally announced. “I have work for you.”

The words were final.

He knew that there was no other option than exactly this. Just a few moments that he allowed himself to share with you would eventually come to an end, and he would go back to his duties – far away, where he could not reach you, where he could barely sense your presence. Possibly, where he wouldn’t be able to tell if you got yourself in trouble again. Hongjoong kept his hounds’ leashes long until he felt they run too freely. And Mingi, right now, had gone too far off.

“Who was that?” your voice trembled when he guided you to the ambulance and, moments later, you were sat down at the edge of the vehicle’s rear. Someone put an oxygen mask in your hand, and you were breathing it in, taking it away only to talk to him now.

“Nobody you need to worry about” Mingi replied quickly. “I need to go.”

“You need to listen to him?”

It was so hard to leave you here. He really didn’t want to. He hoped you will memorize his advice.

“I do. I don’t think we will meet again.”

“So how do I repay you?”

He pondered on it for a moment before gathering all his courage and putting his hand on top of your head. He patted it gently. Your eyes slipped closed. Maybe it was just from the fatigue, but he indulged himself a little, imagining that you’re feeling comfortable with him now.

“Live a good life so we don’t have to meet again.”

“So you don’t want us to meet?” Your eyebrows furrowed.

“Not like this.”

You opened your eyes again.

“Then find a way to come back here. You owe me answers. If you don’t, I will live a bad life.”

It must have sounded ridiculous even to yourself. It must have sounded even more to the paramedic at your side, reaching to check your pulse, although not really paying attention to Mingi.

But to Mingi himself, it sounded like a challenge. Like a dare to get out of his Master’s grasp, to follow what he wanted instead. Did you know how much he would rather run off with you than follow Hongjoong back to hell? Did you know how much it hurt him to say it might be impossible?

When he turned around, Hongjoong’s eyes glistened in the darkness of the trees, like a cat’s, outside of the range of light, but most definitely there, waiting. Watching. Patient – if only for now.

“I will” he promised.

It came out so quiet he wasn’t sure if you heard him. He hoped the wind didn’t carry it further, the words that were never supposed to be spoken.

If Hongjoong heard them, he didn’t show it.

It would only get harder from now on, Mingi knew. But he would find a way. Eventually.

EXO Masterlist || SVT Masterlist || ATZ Masterlist || Taglist Form

The beautiful dividers are by cafekitsune

Network tags: @k-vanity

•

There's a limit to how much the human mind can handle before it just shuts down to protect itself. Which makes sense, however Charles dropping like a stone one day doesn't give Edwin much to work with besides a whole lot of fear and worry.

The mixing of memories, from before before and from his previous life, is messy. It takes awhile to translate the thoughts and memories into something that the human mind can handle.

And the Charles that opens his eyes is not the same as the one who closed them.

His nose is assaulted with scents, even more overwhelming after not being able to smell as a ghost for several years. And he smells hell. Faded but still undeniably hell.

He looks at the boy fussing over him and blanks for a minute. Edwin, his mind reminds him, ours a louder part cuts in. This one is ours. Edwin.

Frantic and as exhausted as a ghost can look, Edwin is talking but Charles isn't listening. He's taking it all in, everything slowly trickling back to him until he's himself but also more. A older and stronger part of himself has woken up.

He doesn't tell Edwin, terrified that he'll run as soon as he knows. It bothers him that he's not more upset about the being a hellhound thing. It should surely bother him more but it doesn't. It just feels like him.

It's hard to not give it away though, especially because it feels normal to Charles now. It feels like he's moving his whole body for the first time after only using parts of it. He's able to get most of it under control but things come out the more emotional he gets, especially with anger.

Canine teeth that sharpen a little too much to be human, strong and sharp nails that grow a little too long sometimes, a unhappy noise from his chest that could potentially be called a growl, a viciousness to him that's almost startling at times.

•

But... of course Edwin knows. He could have probably have made a decent guess all those years ago in the attic if he'd had to but he's confident now. He's not sure how a hellhound ended up human, let alone a ghost, but he doesn't question it too much.

Instead he plays his part too, doesn't say anything but he makes sure holy water doesn't get on Charles, always keeps an eye out to make sure he's far away from any demonic traps when a case calls for it, doesn't do anything that might potentially be a trigger for pain, and so on.

There's not a lot of resources available for this type of situation and Edwin does his best.

•

Cut to the start of the show and it makes sense that Charles likes Crystal. She's got hell on her soul a bit too, left from David, and psychics have a history with the occult.

It's easy to get caught up with her, the excitement of someone new. It has him urging Edwin to take a case in America, and not noticing small problems beginning to take root.

Somewhere along the way, something happens between him and Edwin. Usually they don't have issues and Charles wants to resolve this but he doesn't want to be the one to give in.

What's wrong with playing a little? Trying new thing and getting to know new people? They could all get along if Edwin would just relax.

Charles doesn't even get defensive when Crystal makes the occasional too vicious dig at Edwin, although the little betrayed looks he gets from Edwin make his skin itch. They both give as good as they get and he's willing to let them spit at each other until they've calmed down.

•

Charles will admit that possessing Esther was not the best choice he could have made, or even top 3, but it was the one he went with. He's never done it and probably never will again after seeing how upset Edwin was. It's fine though. They'll be fine.

It's not fine.

The Cat King, and god does Charles hate cats, puts the equivalent of a collar on Edwin. The bastard knows exactly what Charles is too, how insulting it is for him see Edwin leashed like dog.

He stays just beyond Charles' reach or close enough to Edwin that he can't do anything.

Are we playing a game his grin asks and Charles wants to rip the word no into his skin until he lets Edwin go.

•

Niko is a unexpected joy, especially for Edwin. As soon as she can see them, she asks Charles about his teeth. He doesn't pay attention to how Edwin also looks panicked at the question, just smiles at her and he's positive his teeth are human. She hums and get easily distracted by something Crystal is saying, but he makes a point to run his tongue over his teeth before he opens his mouth around her, just to make sure.

They keep getting distracted, by cases that are as interesting as they are frustrating, while trying to figure out how to get the bracelet off Edwin. The Devlin House is not his best moment, the case digging cruelly into sore spots he'd been trying very hard to forget he had. It also adds to the tension between him and Edwin.

•

Charles does not like the night nurse. Especially when she goes digging in his head, but he gets her back when she goes too far, gets too nosy and sees things she shouldn't. It's easy to give into the anger that's been gnawing at him for years, but he send her off over the the side of the cliff instead of just finishing her right there.

But she comes back, just like Esther does, and she leads that thing right back to Edwin.

•

The world narrows down to a pin prick where the wall reformed after closing behind the demon. There's a ringing in his ears that's not loud enough to cover Edwin's screams playing over and over in his ears. He turns on the night nurse growling so hard his throat burns, teeth aching from where they're clenched and bared at her. He's never been this mad. He's never been this scared.

Some type of survival instinct must kick in because she opens a door to hell for him, probably hoping he just stays down there. He doesn't remember his way around, or know where he'll even pop out at, so he snags Edwins notebook and opens it to the map he knows is there, and starts his descent.

It does come back, each step pulls up the memories and instincts until he's confident he could track Edwin by smell alone if he needed to. He ignores the woman sobbing on the stairs, she doesn't matter.

Limbo

Gluttony

Lust

Here. The dollhouse.

There's old blood on the walls of the hallways, mixed in with new, and in parts of it he can smell Edwin. Some of it old enough that it would have been from his first trip down and his skin prickles from how angry he is.

He doesn't need the lantern, his eyes have adjusted to see in the dim hallways and dark corners but he's knows it will comfort Edwin. It's a comfort to him too, even if he doesn't need it. It reminds him of when Edwin found him.

And he does find Edwin, a fluttering relief in his chest as he starts towards him and Edwin takes a step too. Only for him to be ripped away again, screaming, and Charles can already smell the fresh blood.

He doesn't really need to be quiet, not really. The demon isn't going to be eager to pick a fight with Charles once it realizes what he is, but it might get brave if it's over what is clearly it's favorite toy.

Edwin is more vulnerable then he's ever been though and Charles aches with it. Whatever Edwin wants, Charles will be completely silent if that's what he wants. Anything.

There's an ache, a burning, a balloon about ready to pop in his chest. He wants to find somewhere dark and small and safe for them. He wants to lick over the wounds he sees on Edwin and right, focus. Clearly he's starting to fall back into those instincts pretty strong.

They stop on the stairs and the only reason Charles doesn't just throw Edwin over his shoulder and continue up the stairs is because the other boy is clearly exhausted and has something he thinks must be said.

•

Love.

He loves Edwin. There's nothing he loves as much as Edwin and certainly nothing he could love more.

In love... what does that mean?

The completely human part of him thinks of his parents and nonono, that's not right. The hellhound part, that's sitting right under his skin due to being back in hell, tells him to kill something and leave it at Edwin's feet.

Neither of those seem right. However killing the spider demon for Edwin is incredibly tempting and he makes a note to revisit the thought later.

He can't say nothing to Edwin though. So he says something, the first thing that he can string into a sentence and hopes it's enough.

It seems to be because they're moving again, making it through the door just in time.

•

The cat king's bracelet is gone and Charles wants to go home. He wants to drag Edwin through the nearest mirror and hid away in their office for a week or more. He wants to look Edwin over, feel along all his joints to make sure they're okay because that's where the demon spider would have started when it ripped him apart, the joints giving way easier than trying to snap bone. Not that it didn't do that too.

He doesn't want to abandon the girls though and they stay.

•

Charles hates witches. To be fair, his last real run in with a powerful witch ended with him being reborn as a human. He really hates Esther though.

She knows, just like the cat king did, what he is.

There's runes on the floor under him, and even if he gets out of the iron collar he's still going to be stuck. The collar is a insult as much as it's a way to keep him under control.

He's stuck, Edwin screaming in the next room and he's going to tell Edwin everything after this. He wants to learn everything he can about himself so he never gets put in this situation again. He knows he could get out of this if he had more understanding and practice. The iron burns but he can burn hotter, he knows he can, and the runes can be broken, he just doesn't know how.

Niko and Crystal will have to do for now though, they slide him his bag, which slides over some of the runes and makes a break in them. He finds the lockpick quick after that and he's free and up in moments. He aches to go to Edwin, his teeth itch and he can barely think about anything else, but the girls were right. He needs to kill the snake.

Thankfully, the snake dies quickly under his rage and he's upstairs again in just minutes. EdwinEdwinEdwin runs on loop in his head.

He's not quick enough to save Niko and he can feel Edwin's heartbreak from across the room.

Crystal and Niko are Charles', not the same way Edwin is but still something close and loved. They have to move though, death is going to come for her.

Edwin is crashing. Exhausted, overwhelmed, and devastated. He can barely stay up even with help and eventually Charles just picks him up. There's no fight, he just accepts it.

He's quiet. Charles hopes he doesn't think he's back in hell... or that he never left at all.

•

The unexpected arrival of the night nurse at their office, and the threat to Edwin, has Charles finally saying fuck it. He's going to get rid of her and after that he can beg Edwin for a chance to explain.

But he doesn't get a chance to. Instead he has to make sure his teeth aren't showing too sharp as he grins at their newest agency member. She huffs at Edwin a few times and seems genuinely upset but Charles can't bring himself to be sympathetic. She keeps an eye on him until she leaves, and he lets his teeth show right when she leaves as a reminder. Smart woman.

It's just them again, like it's always been, and he wants to cry as he hugs Edwin. It feels good to hold and be held.

Until Edwin pulls back and says he knows in a way clearly meant to show that he does indeed know.

Hellhounds tend to run hot, and even though Charles is dead and can't really have a body temperature, he does tend to run hot. However, he feels frozen, even colder than the night he died.

There's no fear from Edwin though. No screaming or running, no wards to trap him or spells quickly spoken to hurt him. Just Edwin, looking at him the way he always has, and Charles realizes like a punch to the gut that the look is love.

•

Edwin doesn't mind the too sharp teeth when they bite at his lower lip and neck. He doesn't mind the sharp nails where they sometimes catch a little on the skin of his hips. He doesn't mind the way Charles can smell and his favorite smell is apparently Edwin, who can't smell and has no idea what he even smells like anymore.

Edwin doesn't mind the growls and snarls, pulling out the softer sounds Charles didn't know he was capable of making. Edwin doesn't care.

He doesn't say anything specifically but Charles also knows the part of Edwin that thinks this wasn't his last run in with hell, is relieved. There's not a single place in hell Edwin could be taken that could be hidden from a hellhound, not a place in hell that Charles wouldn't find.

🌙🌙🌙🌙

I like my characters morally grey and ready to kill for each other.

And just then, just as you think you’re ready, your stomach decides it really is too much. You drop the tweezers, metal clanking on the tiles against the backdrop of your heaving and liquids splashing as you hug the toilet seat. Baekhyun pats your back, unsure of what to do.

“Sorry,” you apologize as you flush. Your legs shake terribly when you stand up to rinse your mouth. It seems that no matter how many times you do this, your body, you as a whole, won’t get used to it. 

“‘S okay,” Baekhyun whispers, picking up the tweezers and handing them to you. 

You roughly clean them and prepare another cotton ball, let it absorb the antiseptic, and get back into the position.

Met with the sigh of the man-who’s-not-really-a-man’s throat, you feel the same wave of nausea as before, and as before you hold it off for the time being.

The collar is dark metal, heavy and cold to touch, though it hasn’t always been that way. No, not too long ago it was glowing with heat that welded it to the skin and flesh of its wearer’s throat.

Baekhyun, a creature of Hell by his origin, a guard dog of the domain of flames and molten earth, is more durable than a human being. Still, his body has its limits just like anyone else’s.

Your bathroom is filled with the smell of burnt meat. The exposed and scarring flesh stares at you like a vision straight out of a nightmare, a peak of what Hell might be. You don’t want to look at it. You don’t want to see Baekhyun’s pain. But there’s no one that can help him. There’s nowhere else for him to go. You’ve become intimately familiar with the muscles and sinews, arteries and veins, just about every part of his body that makes up Baekhyun. Yet there’s very little that you know about him. 

He whimpers when you finally resume your task. The wound has to be cleaned and taken care of. Or it will fester. And while it wouldn’t be fatal to him no matter how bad the rot would get, it would be painful. Shameful too, or so he said, once he’d return home.

Home… You mull the word over. You’ve always believed that home shouldn’t be a place you had to run away from. Yet here Baekhyun is, again and not for the last time. At least you hope so.

He holds still as if paralyzed with the pain. It’s for the best. Your fingers burn with his tears. You always tell yourself you’ll wear gloves next time but you never do and let the tears scald you, as if you were making yourself pay for the pain you cause him. It’s not really your fault, you know. Not the injury, not him running here whenever he’s able to leave. You cause nothing of it, yet it feels like you’re guilty.

The wound is cleaned. Your stomach is still trying to empty itself despite already throwing up all its contents. 

You wrap the gauze around his neck with all the caution you can muster. The collar is almost too heavy for you to move, sticky with residue of his molten off tissues. Baekhyun insists on cleaning the collar himself, and so you leave him to it once your task is done. He always says it’s too dirty of a job for you to do. You don’t see how it can be worse than working with the raw flesh spasming in agony, but you never protest.

He finds you in bed. He slips in quietly, moulding himself against your back. His breath fans across your nape before he nuzzles into your hair. His heart beats like hummingbird wings. He radiates so much heat that you only cover yourself with the thinnest blanket you own for the comfort of it. 

“Thank you,” he whispers. Barely there sound. A howl of a lone wolf, crying to the moon as it bleeds out in the snow.