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lalunanymph · 2 months ago

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GRASSLAND ROMANCE

SUMMARY the strongest tribal chieftain sets the stage to claim his most priceless reward

WARNINGS prisoner of war!reader, slave!reader, tribal chief!sylus, first time, fight-to-death-trope, concubine!reader, oral sex, breeding, mentions of lactating, size kink, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of misogyny, bartering, winning her favor trope, loosely based on the new sylus myth card, mdni, 18+

DAWN SAYS it's daddy sylus's time hehehe second one down, 2 more to go !! sylus is my ult bias and I definitely wanted to go for more of a khal drogo x daenaerys vibe when I started this out, so keep an eye out for bit of dark content discussed here... that being said, will be cross-posting this to a03 soon so stay tuned! <3

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── ZAYNE ⊱ XAVIER ⊱ RAFAYEL

The grasslands were not kind to those unfamiliar with its ways.

As a little girl, your grandmother would tell you stories of the fearless warriors traversing these bare lands in search of resources to plunder, steal and conquer. It instilled a sense of fear in you; a knowing instinct to never step out of line less you wanted to suffer the consequences of losing everything you loved.

The day you met Sylus was the day your short life came to its meaningless end.

Taken from your homelands to his tribe, you were relegated to cleaning tasks and cooking; trying to keep your head down and eyes off of you less you wanted to suffer fatal repercussions.

Your days living in sweet bliss were over; your childhood and girlhood gone in one fell swoop.

And yet, despite your best efforts to go undetected, you wound up catching the eye of the fearsome chieftain. His calls for you to his yurt could not be ignored.

You fully expected him to take advantage of your vulnerable state, using his position to conquer what remained of your dignity and hope.

But, Sylus proved to be a different man behind his ruthless reputation.

A fan of music and wildland games, he often asked you to keep him company for the day, and when the nights got too cold, you were ushered into his private space, allowed to warm yourself with his brazier.

The scent of moist rose and grapevine trimmings filled the air as you lounged right in Sylus’s arms, enjoying the warmth of his presence and the fire glowing brightly while snow and sleet raged outside of his yurt.

The fearless tribal chieftain was a relaxed man tonight, savoring the presence of his favorite concubine right in his lap. His large hands stroked your hair, fingers running through your locks. The robes he dressed you in were heavy yet comfortable, providing you shelter from the cold; a stark difference from the slave rags you were forced to wear during your earlier encampment.

“What is on your mind, beloved?”

Beloved. Despite what everyone said or thought about you, Sylus saw you in a different light. A tender and cherished one.

You turned your head to gaze at him, a softness you reserved solely for him shining from your eyes.

“I was lost in my thoughts; thinking back to the time when I first got here.”

A dark look flitted across his face, and he fixed you with a prodding look.

“I know what happened was not ideal for you, beloved. But, you are safe now. I will not let anyone in this camp harm you.”

His promise was as good as gold in this world. Sylus was not someone who would mince words or give you false hope. Despite his stature as one of the most fearsome conquerors of this land, he was a man of integrity and word.

And yet… you couldn’t help the sadness eclipsing your features.

The ceremonial choosing of his bride was coming up soon, and from the lines of women prepared for him, you paled in comparison. These women were trained from birth to please him, cook for him, and be the bearer of his children. They were thought in the grassland ways, something you were not familiar with.

The women chosen for him did not stick out like a sore thumb, nor were they foreigners of this land.

Each of them were meticulously handpicked to appeal to his tastes and desires; where you fit in, you had no clue.

It wasn’t as if you were his tribe’s de facto pick. You were sure you weren’t on any of the elder’s lists, your fate relegated to being his concubine for life.

As if he could read your mind, Sylus tilted your face up to look him in the eyes.

“Beloved, you are the only one for me. There is no one else in these lands I would rather spend my days with.”

You wanted to ask him why; what could possess a man like him to love a lowly woman like you?

But, you enjoyed his caresses on your cheeks and jaw; snuggled closer to him as the wind tore through the night, safe and secure right in his arms.

The next morning, you were pulled aside by one of the village elders, Enkh, as he looked you up and down.

“My son needs a new wife after his old one died in childbirth,” scrutinizing you from head to toe, he fixed his beady gaze on you like a dishwasher studying a piece of vermin on a brass plate. “And you will do.”

The idea of being married to Enkh’s son, known as the most ruthless and cruel man in the entire tribe, filled you with unadulterated fear. You had no say in your fate, and spent the entire day wondering how to tell Sylus—the chieftain himself—of your dilemma.

But, you didn’t have to open your mouth and divulge the truth.

Sylus already knew.

He called you out to his tent, where some men who were sparring upped and left the second you arrived. In your hands, you held a pouch, given to you by Enkh’s wife before you left their yurt.

A symbol of choice for a woman about to be married, you were given explicit instructions to hand it to his son after his sparring win tomorrow. It was tradition for the winner to receive a wife as compensation, and from the thunderous look on Sylus’s face, you could tell he was not at all pleased about this latest development.

“They claimed you, just like that? Without my agreement?”

Despite not being his official concubine, everyone in the tribe knew of your position with the chieftain. You were virtually untouchable, and only higher up families like Enkh’s, could make the play for one of his concubine’s hands.

This displeased your lover, who took it as an affront to his rule.

But, he didn’t react the way you expected him to, with violence and malice as the forefront of his actions.

Sylus led you to the heart of his yurt, where thick layers of felt and wool provided insulation from the chill. Dressed in traditional Bökh gear, he was preparing for the ceremonial sparring to begin when he heard word of your impending nuptials to Enkh’s son. He dragged you down to his side, letting you rest on the rugs and pillows surrounding the area before he shared what was on his mind.

“Do you want to marry into that family, Y/N?”

Instinctively, you shook your head. “No, Sylus.”

He nodded, pleased at your swift rebuke. “I am going to be honest with you—the only way we can circumvent both of our fates to marry different people is for me to participate in the fights myself.”

You gasped, wide-eyed at the revelation. “But, it’s unheard of. You are the chieftain!”

Rough fingers touched your face, caressing your cheek with a softness he only showed to you.

“I know, my beloved. But, think about the alternative. I do not want to lose you.”

A grin stole across his handsome features, and he shot back: “If I lost, I’d be stuck here forever—in this limbo of never having you… but then again, could I really lose?”

Unperturbed by his musings, you raised the stakes by straddling his lap, glaring down at him. In this position, he had to hear you out; he had to allow logic to take hold of his wilful mind.

“Sylus, the rules of the game means that you have to steal the gem from your other opponent and then you can stake your claim. Are you sure you want to do this? You cannot back out once the games have started.”

The Grassland Festival, or the most important festivity for Sylus’s tribe that was happening in a few hours, was in tandem with the fighting ring for men to win the hands of their future wives.

His red eyes, which shone like a grassland sunset, appraised your form astride his lap; soft and sure.

“My love, you severely underestimate my devotion to you.”

Turning your fates around, he flipped you back onto the soft pillows and rugs, a look of fond playfulness in those jewel-toned eyes.

“All I have to do is fight, yes? And I have never lost a fight.”

His soft touch tucks a stray lock of your hair behind your ear. “You are the prize I must win, my love. I will do everything I can to make sure we stay together.”

Filled with happiness and the surety of his tone, you put your faith in what came next.

Long and nimble fingers snuck to your waist pockets, where he retrieved the pouch given to you by Enkh’s family.

“Hey—!”

You tried to reach back for it, but he held it from you, a smirk playing on his defined lips.

“Is this what you are going to give the boy?”

Warmth splashed across your cheeks as you tried to glare him down.

“Despite what you may think, you do not own every aspect of me, Sylus. I reserve the need to keep some secrets to myself.”

He hummed, clearly not believing you. “And yet, you spoke of the sincerity of our feelings. Isn’t this me being honest, little dove?”

You sputtered, tripping over your refutes, and he rolled his eyes.

“Alright, love. Let me make it simple—”

He lifted you closer to him, letting you fall over his lap. The sudden proximity filled your senses purely with him; igniting sparks of heat across your entire body.

“If someone were to hand the champion a pouch, should he take it?”

He was teasing you, and it was clear he wasn’t planning to let up anytime soon.

You huffed, trying to swipe it again. But, he was nimbler than you, yanking the pouch away from your outstretched hand.

Sighing, you tried to pull him up, grumbling when you barely made him move an inch.

“Have you been training more?” You grumbled, eyeing his broad shoulders; the muscles stretching across his tanned skin.

“Perhaps. Although as much as I have been honing my skills, I do still need someone to look out for me.”

His smirk threatened to affect your entire composure, and you darted your eyes away, flushed and embarrassed at how easily he could get to you.

The faith you had in him to win was astounding; there was a reason why he was known as one of the best warriors in the grasslands.

“You’re the champion,” you grumbled under your breath. “Do you need me to watch your back?”

In response, Sylus’s smile softened around the edges, his red eyes taking on a tender quality.

“Let me paint you a scene, love: I win the challenge, and then I get to be yours. How does that sound?”

Tugging a stray lock of hair which fell loose from your braid, Sylus waited for your answer patiently.

It was useless to try and dispute him. Whatever the strongest wanted, he would get—and he clearly wanted you.

“Alright,” you responded softly, conceding with a smile. “If you win tomorrow, I will hand you my pouch. There is nothing you cannot do.”

Responding to your confidence, he chuckled softly, teasing you more by dragging you closer to him, enjoying your weight pressing onto his body.

“Or, we could do it together.”

He hummed, touching the hollow of your throat with his cool lips. Your eyes fluttered shut, trying to staunch your reckless sounds.

“The second I get that gem, you run up to me, crowning me as your chosen one and I respond back.”

Struggling to control your raging thoughts, you murmured: “Will it work—such boldness?”

To answer your question, he smirked, finding your flustered expression and slight doubt adorable.

“My, my, love. Are you doubting me?”

The world flipped around, and suddenly you were thrown over his shoulder. You gasped, confusion mingling with surprised delight as Sylus manhandled you with practiced ease. He stepped past the plush pillows and rugs, opening the flap of his yurt to bring you out into the mellow morning.

“Wh-what are you doing?” Your sharp inhale spurred on his laugh, his low and rich chuckle making you flush warmly.

“Didn’t you tell me this before, love? Actions speak louder than words.” To your mortification, he was heading right to the middle of the courtyard, where spectators were already gathering to witness the fight.

“Sylus—!”

You smacked his broad shoulders, but he wouldn’t let you down. Sylus already had a plan in mind and you were helpless to stop him.

“Oh, love, relax,” he teased, taking long, purposeful strides towards the other villagers. “I need to show them I already have a lover. And since she won’t let me take her away…” you could plainly picture his cocky smirk. “... I’ll just have to take her myself.”

The rest of the villagers stopped in their tracks when they noticed their chieftain walking towards them, a smaller woman in his arms. Elders dropped what they were doing to whisper under their breaths, their judgemental eyes trained on Sylus’s smug face and the look of mortification on yours.

“Sylus—”

He set you down in the front stand, tossing you a wink for good measure.

Whispers rushed around the arena like wildfire, catching aflame from the look of pure devotion in his eyes; a look reserved just for you.

Enkh’s son, a hulking brute by the name of Altan, shot him a glare—insulted by Sylus’s blatant claim on you.

Motivated by his wrath, the tribal chief turned to the other man, raising a brow.

“Altan, son of Enkh!”

His voice boomed across the field, shocking you out of your mortified stupor.

“You dare claim one of my concubines as your wife? Do you know what that entails?”

The atmosphere in the arena tilted towards a frenzy, the people inadvertently roped in to witness the showdown of the year.

Since ceremonial rites were read and sacrifices were made, the last agenda for today would be the warrior fights. Sylus took his spot in the ring, unafraid. The head monk, a calm man by the name of Bataar, whispered something to Enkh, who glared at you as if this entire ordeal was your fault.

You shrank back in your seat, attempting to hide your scorching cheeks behind your palms.

The fight began, and it was clear from the onset that it would be an unfair one. Sylus, whose expertise and years on the field, easily overpowered Altan, pinning him to the ground. A horn blared, and the winner was declared.

A stirring eagerness and relief moved you from your seat, and you didn’t care for customs or etiquette when you ran across the ring, jumping right into his open arms. Sylus lifted you off your feet with ease, spinning you around, his laughter mingling with yours.

In his palm, he held the priceless gem he stole from Altan’s belt— a symbol of his opponent’s virility. Its capture meant that he had won the other man’s intended bride fair and square. He handed it to you, and right in front of his entire people, you proudly proclaimed your acceptance of his proposal—slipping the jewel right inside of your pouch and handing it to him.

Triumphant, Sylus took your offered gift, tucking it in the lapels of his leather harness with a contented grin.

The tribe elders were helpless to stop their strongest from claiming you, as was the custom of these rituals.

Sylus had no hesitation when he slung you over his shoulder again, a conqueror who had rightfully won his beloved.

He didn’t care if whispers of your status or his incredible defiance towards the elders would reach his ears; all Sylus could think about now was savoring this priceless reward he fought hard to obtain.

Bringing you back to his yurt, Sylus let the flap fall close behind him, a clear signal to the rest of the tribe that he intended to enjoy his winnings in peace.

Your back met the soft pillows and rugs, his broad build blocking out the rafters letting in warm morning sunlight; lost in the depths of his jewel-tone eyes.

They shone like precious rubies, far more valuable to you than any material item in this world.

The feel of your palm stroking his cheek, your fingers playing in his hair, suddenly made his stomach twist into hard knots. They were impossible to unravel, a bowline loop which went on for eternity.

His breathing turned ragged, gaze going soft as he looked at you—really took you in.

The sight of his beloved—his bride—right here in his home, about to be taken and claimed by him, set his nerves ablaze more than any war cry ever could.

Sylus moaned unabashedly when you tangled your fingers in his hair, bold enough away from the prying eyes of others to fall prey to the undeniable attraction you’ve felt for him since the first time you saw each other.

He lets you bring him in for a kiss, your lips sweeter than wildberry dew.

“Sylus…”

The possessive need to claim you flared in him when you called out his name.

Smoldering attraction turned into a wild, untameable blaze, threatening to consume him whole.

Due to his rugged nature, he never had a woman this close to him, her touch a balm to his rough edges.

In your arms, Sylus was more than the fearsome tribal chieftain whose name could strike fear in any man’s heart.

He was wont to your desires, an instrument of your love.

“Please,” you licked your lips, and his eyes followed the gesture with a blatant look of desire. “Kiss me.”

You didn’t have to ask him twice. Sylus captured your lips in a deep and passionate kiss, swallowing your moans whole.

Your tinier fingers in his hair tightened, bringing his body closer onto yours. He fought back a shiver from the force of his desires as his body covered yours completely, trapping you beneath him under his weight.

“My love, you are playing a dangerous game,” he growled, adoring how fragile and small you felt under his hulking mass.

Dragging your hands down the slope of his shoulders, you felt his muscles rippling under your touch; his broad frame and the layers of sinew forming his brawny build leaving you lightheaded.

“Oh, my love. The sight of you underneath me, looking so vulnerable and lovely,” his voice dipped lower, a hoarse edge taking over it. “... it’s driving me wild.”

Shying away from such a bold declaration, you bit your lower lip. “Sylus, will it hurt?”

Sensing you were speaking about the act of copulating, he took your hand, rubbing circles on your palm.

“A little, but it is nothing you cannot handle. Besides, I will be with you through it all—I will not hurt you, my love.”

The idea of a ruthless tribal leader like him, promising some young slave girl that he would be gentle with her, was so far-fetched from your idea of what a conqueror was that you began to relax in his presence.

You trusted Sylus because he has proven time and time again how your comfort and safety were his priorities.

Especially when he was this close to claiming you.

Steady yet hasty hands slowly unraveled the lapels of your thick coat, his breaths tumbling out in silent huffs. Sylus’s large palms were warm—far too warm on your chilly body.

The great chieftain was a silent, nervous wreck when he glanced down at his beloved, watching her with soft eyes and reaching out to her with an even softer touch.

“Sylus… please.”

The cadence of his name on your tongue will never not be the sweetest thing he's heard in his life.

You returned the gesture, removing his leather gauntlets, slowly stripping him off his warrior bravado to reveal the sweet and gentle man underneath.

“Please, what?” He whispered against your throat. Outside, the cool breeze rattled the rafters, but inside his yurt and in his arms, you were warmer than a butterfly in spring.

You seized, back arching when he kissed a tender path from your neck to your bare chest.

The sight of your hardened nipples and smooth curves whipped through him like a frenzy, and Sylus grew impossibly hard at the image of your sweet body, swollen with child.

His child.

The fantasies of your breasts filling up with milk, the slope of your belly gently curving with the promise of his heir…

His thin patience was hanging by a thread.

Sylus shrugged off his sheepskin pants, tossing it to the side of the yurt as he quickly worked on the lapels and hooks of your clothing.

Once your smooth body was bare to him, Sylus’s gaze softened, his tone almost reverent when he said:

“You look beautiful, my beloved.”

You had not imagined your wedding night (or, in this case, morning) to be a tender affair.

Where every brutish belief you once held towards his people melted away with every tender touch of this gentle chieftain.

Sylus propped a pillow under your hips, careful to lean his full weight onto you. Your eyes fluttered shut, a moan seeping past your swollen lips when you felt his tongue glide across your breasts, taking his time to play with and suck on your nipples.

His mouth moved down your body, teasing you with whispery kisses.

Parting your thighs wide, you realized a second too late what he was doing until he slotted himself in between; mouth pressed to your pelvis.

“Sy—”

The protests fizzled out the second you felt his tongue parting through your folds, tasting the effect he had on you.

Low whimpers slipped past your mouth, your fingers tangling in his hair.

Sylus… mhmm… s-stop—

But, he didn't relent. He glanced up at your flushed face, shaking his head.

You can take it, beloved. Can't you? For me?

It wasn't the reluctance that set you back but the shame of such an intimate experience.

You had never experienced a man this close to your sensitive parts; the idea of him in this position itself was too much to bear. You should be worshiping him, not the other way around.

But, Sylus refused to listen to your pleas and moans—hellbent on pleasuring you.

His tongue traced patterns on your clit, drawing out more of your high-pitched whines. There was little doubt whoever passed by the yurts could hear your pleasured sighs.

Sylus couldn't care less.

He wanted the whole tribe to know you were his; that he had chosen you and you had chosen him.

His tongue delved deeper into your core, tasting your excitement. Some of it stained onto his face, his chin drenched with your juices.

Your hips rocked to the rhythm his tongue set, your moans reaching fever pitch.

Good girl. That's it. Show me how much you want it.

Sylus murmured, working you through your cresting pleasure.

It came like a rising high within you, soaring higher than any eagle could as you crashed to the ground, screaming his name.

Sylus tightened his grip on your thighs, doubling down on his efforts. Your mess stained his cheeks, his chin, driving his desire to a burning point.

He worked his way up your body, leaving kisses on every inch of skin his mouth could reach.

Finally reaching your lips, Sylus poured every bit of his devotion for you into this heated kiss, swallowing your moans and letting you taste him on his tongue. Strings of saliva connected your lower lip to his, hanging by a tenuous thread.

The heat of your cheeks would have burned you alive, the tension between your bodies rising to a feverish pitch.

Tenderly, he nudged your thighs to wrap around his defined waist, opening you to be taken by him.

The first stretch was accompanied by his lips on yours, coaxing you to relax and open up to him.

That is it… good girl… taking me so well…

The deeper he sank in, the more loud he was with his praise.

I adore you… you sinful, sweet girl… take me… take me good…

Sylus!

Your cries reverberated across the sheepskin walls. It felt like drowning, your body sinking deeper into the plush woolen pillows.

Oh, oh… oh, right there…

He licked into the heat of your mouth, tracing the ridges of your teeth.

There? Does it hurt? Do I make you ache?

Yes, you responded deliriously. Yes, yes and yes.

It was the kind of pain you could never forget, yet you desired it all the same. A masochistic plea of your body to be devoured and conquered.

Sylus raised himself up on his forearms, the bulging, rock hard muscles rippling with every exertion; his thrusts almost knocking you backwards if it weren't for his tight grip on your hips.

Every collision of his cock against a spot deep inside of you made your toes curl; leading you closer towards your desperate end.

Sylus—can't… close…

It felt like a ball of tension growing bigger and tighter, growing uncontrollably hotter with every thrust, every heated whisper of his praise against your ear.

Sylus nipped your jaw, tracing his tongue against the curve of your lower lip.

His gentle insistence, coupled with his brutal thrusts made your body run hot and cold.

Goosebumps erupted across your skin. You were growing dizzier and hotter.

You gasp—fuck, fuck, this is too much—and he tells you just take it, darling.

Take it for me.

He nipped Your earlobe, pushing deeper against your body.

Does it feel good? Are you close?

Squeezing your eyes closed, you nodded.

Yes, Sylus… almost…

Good, he traced his tongue across the heated Seam of your mouth.

Give it to me, darling. Let go for me.

One request. You gave into him.

“Yes, yes,” you shuddered, digging your heels into his lower back.

Sylus groaned, expressions contorting into painful bliss when your walls contracted around him.

He worked you through them, letting you stab your nails into his broad back.

That's it, darling. Give it to me. Come undone for your husband.

Husband.

The word sent an unrestrained quake straight through your soul.

Yet, the reality was far sweeter.

Sylus slumped on top of you, spent after releasing ropes of warmth deep inside your quivering cunt.

Languidly, he rolled you onto his chest, skin pressed to warm skin. You were spent, soaked and still wrapped around him.

The act of consummation was over. You finally belonged to him.

And for the test of his days, Sylus would make sure to show you how much you mean to him; going above and beyond to declare his love.

“I love you,” he slurred into the heat of your throat. “Always have. And from the very beginning.”

You nestled closer into his side, feeling safe in the warmth of his arms, finally allowing yourself to embrace the reality of this powerful man’s infatuation with you.

Amidst the vast and intimidating grasslands, you had ensured your survival as the feared chieftain's wife, with Sylus unwaveringly by your side.

#🦢 writes #love and deepspace sylus #sylus love and deepspace #sylus x you #sylus x reader #sylus qin #lnds sylus #love and deep space #love and deepspace #lads #mini series: wander in wonder

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lukesaprince · 7 months ago

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Ruin Me H.S

Summary: When the good girl / bad boy trope is just as hypnotic and addictive as everyone says it is OR y/n decides to get Harry's handwriting tattooed on her thigh (badboy/gang LHH trope?)

Warnings: SMUT!! oral (f receiving), edging, spanking (with hand and belt), hair pulling, squirting, masochism, dom!harry, mocking/degradation, dacryphilia, bondage (with a belt), Injuries (black eye, split lip, gunshot wound & wound cleanup)... I think that's it 😅

Word count: 13.7k+

Author's note: This is loosely and I mean SO loosely inspired by Guilty As Sin by Taylor Swift and yeah I know what that song is about but this is based off literally one line in it... I definitely got carried away with the story hehe

- Find my General Masterlist here -

You never liked the bad boy, good girl narrative. The power imbalance and toxicity that came with someone so ruined and so problematic trying to heal his soul in someone that deserved better. She would always think she could change him, that he was just misunderstood and needed someone to love him. That his soul could be healed.

It was bullshit. Until you found yourself in that exact situation, believing just that. That he was misunderstood and so kind underneath his rough exterior. You even found yourself loving the hidden hookups and midnight cleanups. A knock on your door at all hours in the night to be let in for some charged, desperate fuck or to be fixed up because he got in a fight.

You didn’t even know how it started, really. Harry was an enigma. A shadow in the wind that appeared one moment and disappeared the next on a dark bike just as mysterious as he was. That was how you met him, in a fleeting moment which at the time meant nothing. Until it meant everything.

He drove by the cafe you worked at. You were closing up for the night and locking the door when the loud purr of his bike filled the entire street. You were already on edge being by yourself after the girl closing with you had to leave sick so your head whipped around to follow the loud noise.

That’s when you saw him for the first time. He drove through the quiet street with a girl on the back of his bike that you had never seen before, both dressed head to toe in dark clothing and leather. They each had a black helmet covering their heads and yet you still knew that they were both looking at you.

It was unnerving and an interaction that had you walking a lot faster to your car in case they circled back and decided to give you trouble. Your town was used to damaged, dangerous shadows. People like Harry who came in for a night or a weekend for something illicit, only to never return.

You weren’t sure why your small town attracted people like that, but only being a 45-minute drive from the closest big city made it the go-to place for affairs, romantic getaways, illegal meetings and everything in between.

Harry was meant to be like that too. Someone who just passed through. Until he met you.

The very next day he found himself visiting the cafe in hopes you were there. Harry wasn’t sure why he felt the need to go there since he was meant to be driving back to the city the morning after his rendezvous, but there was something about your eyes that he couldn’t get out of his head.

He didn’t even know if you’d be there and yet by some chance or fate, you were. Your back was towards him, busy on barista duty making coffees for the many customers waiting for their orders. He recognised your hair first; pulled back in two long braids down your back. You wore the cafe logo on your t-shirt and this pair of jeans that made your ass look incredible.

You had no idea what the mystery man from last night looked like but you spent the night filling in the blanks of what was hidden beneath his helmet. Your brain seemed to be fixated on the stranger with some magical pull like you knew him already. Your body definitely seemed to like him already, that’s for sure.

“Harry? Americano two sugars.” You called out, sliding the takeaway cup to the edge of the counter before moving on to the next coffee. When the figure approached the counter, you went into your automatic greeting, “have a nice da-”, but the words got caught in your throat when you looked up and locked eyes with the same stranger last night.

You knew it was him instantly. There was no rhyme or reason to explain it, but you knew and he was even more good-looking than you ever could’ve imagined. With piercing green eyes and a strong jaw, plump pink lips and tattoos running up both arms that had your core clenching. The most unexpected feature of all though, was his long luscious curls pulled back from his face and running just past his shoulders.

Harry smirked, visibly seeing the wide-eyed, freeze response your body had just at the sight of him. It was a reaction he got often. He was tall and handsome and the dark clothing he wore made him appear far more intimidating than the usual curly-haired white boy.

“Thank you, love.” He smirked, grabbing the takeaway cup before casually slipping a $100 bill into the tip jar. He was walking out of the cafe without another word, looking at you over his shoulder before he was walking down the street and out of your view.

That night it wasn’t just his face you were dreaming about.

You never expected to see the handsome stranger, who you now knew as Harry, again but as the weeks went by he came to visit the cafe time and time again. It was always the same order and the same ‘thank you, love’ that had your head spinning and then he was gone with no idea of when he’d return again.

Then one day he took things a step further and asked you when your break was. It was the longest you heard him speak and the more words that came out, the more you found yourself hypnotised by the way his mouth wrapped around the syllables. Your coworkers warned you that men like him were dangerous and not worth the excitement and pleasure they always offered.

Time and time again you had helped your friends through some shitty breakup or worse with one of the travellers that rolled through town and you always promised yourself you wouldn’t put yourself in a situation like that. It was clear from the very first night that he was trouble but as much as you wanted to keep your distance, you just couldn’t.

You had never felt so mesmerised by another person before. That initial burning attraction hot enough to take your breath away. In only one sit down with him, you were ready to risk it all. He was so gorgeous and charming and sweet. The epitome of that misunderstood bad boy.

Just like his frequent cafe visits, your lunch breaks soon became his. You two would sit and he’d always ask you about yourself. You did most of the talking and he did most of the listening, never giving much away of himself. He’d show up with bloody knuckles or a bruised eye but would mask the pain and simply shrug when you asked him if he was okay.

It was starting to feel like he knew everything about you and you knew nothing in return. You wanted to know everything about him. After weeks of these little interactions, he never tried to fuck you or pursue things with you or make you feel like you owed him for all the $100 tips he left. All he wanted to do was talk and if anything, that made you want him more.

Then one night… everything changed.

You were woken in the middle of the night by a crash in your living room. That would be scary for anyone, but it was even scarier when you were on the top floor and the only access points to your apartment were the front door and the fire escape out the window.

You went into immediate panic mode, snatching the steak knife you had tucked under your pillows between your top sheet and your fitted sheet in case this very thing happened. Living alone had its challenges and one of them was the intense fear someone would break in in the middle of the night. By now you could recognise the sounds of your apartment and building so not every little creak freaked you out, but anyone could recognise the sound of broken glass and your pot plant being knocked over.

Sticking the knife out in front of you, you tip-toed out of your bedroom and down the hallway to your living room where the noise came from. Your phone was clutched against your chest, the three-digit emergency number ready to be called in case it wasn’t your cat, Mouse, knocking things over. Mouse was a fragile little thing and sometimes got scared by the smallest things. Even setting a mug down on the bench too hard could have her jumping out of her skin.

You prayed it was only her being skittish.

When you made it to the end of your hallway, you pressed yourself against the wall and tipped your head out ever so slightly to look into your living room. A whole wave of emotions rushed over you at once at the sight. It wasn’t your cat, but rather a tall dark figure holding your purring pet.

It was a figure you recognised immediately, even with his strong back facing towards you.

“Harry? What the fuck?” You hissed, turning your phone off while turning the lights on at the same time.

“Hey, bunny.” Harry flashed a sly smile, turning to look at you. You noticed the dried blood on his lip and eyebrow instantly and the swollen ball forming on his cheek. Fucking hell.

That smile instantly dropped when his eyes ran over you, taking in the ratty loose t-shirt and tiny underwear you were wearing. The t-shirt had a worn-out collar making it slide down to expose your collarbone and one shoulder. Your nipples were pressing through the thin material, all pebbled and hard from the cold air now blowing in from the window Harry accidentally broke on his way in.

Getting dressed was the last thing on your mind before venturing out here and you suddenly regretted not putting pants on at least. To be fucking fair though, you never would’ve guessed Harry would break in through your window when A. you had a very suitable front door, B. he didn’t even have your number and C. you never told him where you lived.

“What the… how do you know where I live?” You asked a little shakily, crossing your arms to cover your chest while still keeping the knife on guard in front of you.

Harry set down Mouse and she immediately ran over to you, purring while sliding her body against your calf. He walked over to you slowly and the closer he got, the worse his injuries appeared. A split lip and split eyebrow and a deep purple hue starting to form around his socket. He looked awful.

“Are you going to stab me, bunny?” He drawled, almost mockingly. You stood your ground, trying not to show your shaking as your hand tightened around the handle of the knife. His eyes were dark and he allowed himself a final drag over your body, stepping so close to you that the tip of the knife pressed into his stomach while he towered over you. “Gonna cut me open? Give me another scar to add to my collection?”

Even though you knew you should be scared, you weren’t. He found your address and broke into your house and yet physically, you weren’t the slightest bit worried that he’d hurt you. You knew nothing about him, didn’t even know what illegal venture he did for work and yet you trusted him.

Because you trusted him, your shaking was for a very different reason. Having him in your apartment all bloody and bruised and still as handsome as ever had you completely worked up. The thought of… of doing just what he teased, of giving him a scar that reminded him of you forever… god, it was so fucked up how horny that made you.

You were obsessed over a man who hadn’t even kissed you, yet knew every single thing about you. It was ridiculous. That felt even more ridiculous than playing off this entire interaction as a somewhat normal experience.

“I’ve got a perfectly fine front door, y’know.” You whispered, looking over to the broken window. You kept your knife against his stomach, even testing the waters by pressing it harder ever so gently into the toned muscles beneath his shirt. “And you’re paying for that to be fixed, by the way.”

Harry laughed, wincing ever so slightly at the tinge of pain in his face. But still, he laughed. And it was golden. “I’ll pay for whatever you want,” He murmured, smirking while looking down at the knife. “I’m sure you’re very skilled with a blade, bunny, but will you put it aside for now and clean me up instead? Need a pretty girl to make me feel better.”

You looked between your knife and his eyes, reluctantly dropping your hand beside your hip. “Come on.”

Saying nothing else, you spun around and walked into your bathroom. Harry followed closely behind, looking around your apartment with curiosity before his eyes fell on you. You pulled your t-shirt down as far as it would go, but it still rode up as you walked and he found himself unable to look anywhere else.

“Sit.” You pointed to the closed toilet and set your knife down on the bench, crouching down to get the first aid kit from the cabinet below the sink.

Harry did as told and shrugged his leather jacket off, setting it down on the bench before sitting on the closed toilet lid. He watched you intently, saying nothing as you set up your tools to sanitise and clean his wounds.

After grabbing some gauze and betadine to clean the open wounds, you soaked the material and started to clean the small gash on his eyebrow. Harry kept completely still, barely feeling the pinch. Your touch was so soft, so gentle. He found it more relaxing than anything else. Once that wound was clean, you moved onto his mouth which Harry found a lot more sensitive.

“So how did this happen?” you asked softly, dabbing his lip with the small cloth. His eyes closed as he tensed, hands fisting on his knees to stop himself from getting too worked up. Pain didn’t affect Harry, at least not in a normal way. Every sting and bite at your hand was turning him on in an inappropriate way. You were his bunny, his girl. He couldn’t get hard around you when all you were trying to do was help him.

“Oh, y’know...” He shrugged, keeping his eyes on you but not giving anything away.

“I don’t, actually.” You responded.

“It doesn’t matter how it happened, just that I’ve got a pretty girl fixing me up.” He attempted to smooth it over with a soft smile and a loving tap on your chin. It was the most he ever touched you, a little tap on your chin or a graze of his fingers on your cheek. He never touched your knee or your hand or anywhere else. It was infuriating.

“It does! You show up here in the middle of the night and break in. I don’t even know how you found my address but I’m cleaning your cuts and you won’t even tell me how you got them. How is that fair!? I know nothing about you Harry.” Your voice bordered on a sigh and a yell, exhausted with him showing up out of nowhere and charming you before disappearing again. You weren’t sure what to make of it and he wasn’t giving you any ideas on what he actually wanted from you.

“It’s better that way, y/n.” He looked away from you, leaning back so your fingers weren’t holding his chin anymore to keep him in position. “You don’t want to get involved with me.”

“That’s not fair and you know it. You show up constantly and-and what? Have lunch with me? Get to know me? You can’t do that and not expect me to want to know something back.” You expressed frustratingly, shoving the first aid items into the small bin beside your cabinet.

“I want to keep you safe, y/n.” He stood from the toilet, sighing when you refused to look at him. “The less you know about me, the safer you’ll be.”

“So why do you even keep coming back if you don’t want me involved with you? It’s killing me!” You snapped, looking up at him accusatorily.

“Because I can’t stay away from you.” He whispered, sliding his hand over the side of your neck. Your breath hitched at the touch, your body automatically leaning into it as he rubbed his thumb over your jaw and towards your mouth. Oh. “I’m so fucking obsessed with you it’s unhealthy. I think about you all the time. All the fucking time, y/n.”

“I don’t know what you want from me.” Tears pricked at your eyes, “you’re so confusing Harry because you look at me like that and say things but you don’t even touch me. You haven’t kissed me or-or anything. Just tell me what you want from me so I know where to set my expectations.”

“You think I don’t want to kiss you?” He cocked his head, turning your bodies so your back was to the basin. His hand looped to the front of your neck and it was like every cell in your body suddenly put their focus onto him. You couldn’t breathe or think or move or anything. Not when his large ringed fingers were wrapped around your neck like he was carrying a trophy. A prize to claim. “You think I don’t want to touch you?”

Harry pressed his hips into you, eliciting a gasp when you felt his long, hard cock pressed against you. He used his hips to nudge you against the cabinet, pinning you there so you couldn’t go anywhere. “All I think about is kissing you. Kissing your lips and your neck and… everywhere. The things I want to do to you y/n are so unsavoury your pretty little head would explode.”

He always thought you were this pure… innocent angel. One of the rare people in the world with no ill intentions. You were polite and sweet, even after Harry significantly brought you out of your shell since he met you. You were studying to be a nurse for Christ’s sake, some of the purest of the pure.

He wanted to ruin you. He wanted to take that innocence away more than anything on this planet. It was his built-in fucked up default program. To want what he couldn’t have. To want to destroy everything around him.

But he couldn’t do that to you. The last thing he wanted was to hurt you, even if it hurt him in the process. Harry had no light in his life, no hope until he met you and he knew that the moment this became real he would destroy you. His life would destroy you or Harry would do something to fuck it all up and he’d hurt you.

He’d break your heart.

“It won’t.” You rushed out, “It won’t explode. I… I want it.” You could barely articulate yourself. Not when his whole body was pressed to yours. All you had been thinking of for months was having him completely dominate your body. Just to touch you and please you. Even if it was only one time before he disappeared from your life forever.

You needed it.

“I’ll ruin you.” He promised, leaning in closer so his nose bumped against yours. He breathed out a ragged breath, feeling so close to completely giving in to his desires. All of them. “I’ll destroy every good thing about you, y/n. You don’t want that.”

The scariest part of all… was that you did want it. You were becoming the exact person you didn’t want to be. A good girl sacrificing herself to save the soul of someone who might never be saved. But you believed Harry would be saved. You could fix him. Help him to get away from whatever life he lived that made him hurt so badly inside.

You wanted to save him.

“I do. I do want it.” You nodded desperately, grabbing his other hand to guide it towards your clothed mound. You pressed your hand over his, using your own fingers to press his against the silky wet patch on the crotch of your underwear. He swore under his breath, taking the initiative to stroke his fingers along the wet material. “Ruin me. Please.”

So he did.

He ruined you over and over again that night and for many nights after. It completely changed everything for you two. Like it was the last barrier stopping you two from being completely open with each other. You had always told him the things you told everyone else. Your likes and dislikes, the show you were watching, your workplace drama.

But your desires… your needs and wants. They were reserved for no one but yourself. Until he came along.

Harry told you he’d ruin you and he stuck to his word. The things you did together were dirty and depraved and left you with such a feral need for the man, you would’ve let him do quite literally anything to you. As would he, you. And you practically had. Every desire or curiosity was sated and he was willing to do anything to satisfy you.

Harry became as violently obsessed with you as you did him and even though it was a hell of a trip to see you, he did so as often as possible. He couldn’t help himself. Not when he had such a pretty girl waiting to please him and take care of his heart, body and soul. You filled the hole in his life in all aspects, which is what he feared would happen when he saw you that very first night.

Someone so magnetic would ruin him and he was enjoying every moment of it.

You had no idea he traveled from the main city just to see you until you two started sleeping together. He continued stopping by for a coffee or to disturb your lunch break but very quickly, your time spent together turned into an after hours activity. He’d come to get fixed up and then he’d ruin you. Or… his sole intention was to ruin you all along.

There were many sleepless nights because of him. Not that you minded. He opened up to you more and told you more about himself and what he did. When you started to learn small things, you realised that he was probably right in you being better off left in the dark. It was a lot more elaborate than you could’ve imagined and it made sense why he did so much to keep you protected.

Running an elaborate drug smuggling operation wasn’t exactly the safest job out there, nor did it give you much opportunity to switch careers. Somehow, though, you weren’t deterred by it. Maybe it was because you were already in love with him the second he ruined you for the first time.

His high job security didn’t stop you from fantasising about a different life with him. Harry leaving that life for you. The only part of the job Harry liked was the financial stability and the power. The control he had. But you felt like Harry was destined for so much more, that he could live a much happier, safer life. With you.

“Have you ever thought about running away?” You asked, playing with his long hair. It was unruly and sweaty and you were threading your fingers through the knots formed from the midnight hookup. You were still hot and sweaty too, but Harry quite liked the sticky feeling of your skin and the lingering scent of sex in the air.

“Running away? I couldn’t.” Harry breathed through a laugh like it was unfathomable. “You couldn’t either.” He looked up from his work, reaching for your hand to bring it to your mouth to kiss your knuckles. “You’ll be a nurse soon and you’ve always had your heart set on Mercy. You’ll get a job there and it’ll be everything you want.” He smiled softly, guiding your hand back to his hair so you’d play for it while he finished the artwork on your upper thigh.

The thin marker was steady in his hand and he only had one letter left before the piece was complete, not that four letters took a particularly long time to write. But he wanted it to be perfect, for the permanent marker to last as long as possible on your pretty skin. You’d never do it permanently, after all you were still his good girl and no good girl would be as rogue as to get her lover's handwriting tattooed on her thigh after only a few months. Or ever. Permanent marker and baby powder always did the trick to make a design last a while, though, and Harry hoped it would still be there the next time he snuck through your window.

“I want you, Harry.” You whispered, finding his concentration both adorable and so damn sexy you were getting all worked up again. If he looked a little to the left to where your bare cunt was so so close to his fingers, he’d probably be able to tell too. “And the good thing about being a nurse is I can do it anywhere. I can…” you swallowed your nerves, unsure what his reaction would be to your suggestion. “I can work anywhere and-”

“It wouldn’t work, y/n.” He interrupted curtly, leaning back to observe his work while putting the cap back onto his pen. Harry rarely used your name, he was too fond of his pet name for you. “You will always be mine. Always. But I think we both know that what we have is temporary.” Your heart broke at his words and you felt the pain fizzle through your body like a burning liquid. He looked up at you as he blew on the temporary tattoo. “When I inevitably break your heart, bunny, you’ll move on and find someone who can love you the way you deserve. I’ll never move on from you, but you will and you’ll be happier for it.”

“That’s not true.” You all but whimpered. Harry ignored your plea, tapping against your skin to test whether the marker was dry. “You always say that you’ll break my heart, Harry but that’s not true.” He looked up at you for a moment, trying to hide the heartbreak he felt at seeing how sad you were. Grabbing the little bottle of baby powder, he sprinkled it over the little word, massaging the surrounding area of your leg. “I… I love you and I know you love me. If you loved me you wouldn’t hurt me.”

“Bunny, I love you more than anything else on this planet.” He assured, shifting up onto his knees in all his naked glory. He spread his hands over your belly, rubbing his thumbs a little harder into your skin. “I would never do anything to hurt you but this life… it follows me wherever I go. There’ll be a time where I need to sacrifice my love and happiness to protect you. But you’ll always be mine. Until the day I die.” He smiled softly, looking back down to the pile of powder on your upper thigh. He ran his thumb over it, rubbing away from the white substance and leaving the matte four-letter word.

Mine.

“See?” He smirked, looking down at the ‘tattoo’, “I can’t promise you forever, bunny. But I can promise you that I’ll be yours at least until this fades. Who knows what could happen by then.”

You sat up, pressing your hands behind you on the bed for balance as you looked at his artwork. There was something so sexy about being branded like that, even if it was temporary. Your otherwise empty skin now looked complete with his mark there. In his handwriting.

What other sign could be more clear that you belonged to him than his handwriting on your thigh stating just that?

“I love it.” You whispered, tracing over the cursive letters. “Will you be back?” You settled on asking, pausing for a moment, “before the tattoo fades?”

That was one thing that troubled you about your relationship with Harry. The fact that you never knew when you’d see him again. You both openly professed your love and obsession for each other and yet you didn’t go on dates or text or call. Harry just showed up.

He told you it was to keep you safe. It was the very same reason he snuck through your window instead of knocking on your front door. There was less chance of anyone finding out about you. Whoever ‘anyone’ was.

Harry nodded. “I should be. I’ve got a job this weekend though so it might not be for a little longer than usual.” He plastered a soft smile on his face to calm you and reached out to cup your face. “Better make sure it’s still here when I get back. Okay, bunny? Unless you want me to mark it on your skin another way.” That smile tilted to a smirk, promising you foreplay that both of you knew would have you begging him for release.

This time you nodded, “I’ll be good f’you.”

Shit.

“Good girl, Princess.” Harry cooed, looking down briefly at his own cock, already hardening even after filling your mouth and pussy with his cum. He couldn’t help it really. Not when your naked body was so gorgeous and now marked with his handwriting. “now c’mere.”

You smiled, shifting up on your knees to join him halfway in a searing kiss. It was nearly 2 am already but you knew that you wouldn’t get any sleep at all.

The days that followed were restless. You kept looking at those four letters on your thigh and thinking of all the things you had and hadn’t done together. The many trysts you shared with hushed conversations and messy top lip kisses. How his hands felt on your body and his lips on your skin.

You had no idea how long it would be before he came to the cafe or broke into your apartment again. There was no word from him or rumour that he was passing through town. The shadows that liked to drift in and out became known the moment they visited more than once and Harry… well he had become a regular now.

The next time Harry snuck into your apartment, bordering on an entire week after he wrote ‘mine’ on your upper thigh, you were ready. You weren’t sure why you knew because sometimes you had no idea until you felt his presence in your bed. Mouse didn’t even meow or run in fear when he entered through the window anymore, making his entrance sometimes as silent as wind whistling through an empty street.

But tonight… you knew.

There was a shift in the room temperature and a lingering scent of tobacco in the air that had your core clenching just at the thought of him visiting you. Of him seeing the surprise you had for him. It was all in your head of course, a delusion brought on by obsession. Still… you knew.

And just like clockwork, you heard the sound of your window sliding upwards just past midnight. He thankfully hadn’t broken the glass since the first night, but for him to just slink in you had to keep the window unlocked. Before meeting him you obsessively checked every lock on every window and your front door every night, fearing that one of the shadows coming through town would try and hurt you.

You’d think that getting involved with someone like Harry would make that fear worse and yet… it didn’t. Somehow you felt safer. Harry once made a passing comment about keeping an eye on you, that he always knew if you were alright. He didn’t have to elaborate for you know that meant he had hacked into security cameras or had someone he trusted watching your apartment at all times.

6-months-ago-you would’ve been creeped the fuck out. Scared for your life that you’d allow one of the shadows to get you so hooked on him, you’d let him have a security guard of sorts around you 24/7, or even just the fact you let him so casually break into your apartment. It made total sense to you somehow because with all the theatrics and abnormal parts of your relationship came the love and happiness you got when you saw him.

Even though it was most likely your lover opening your window, you still fished for the knife under your pillow, now replaced with something pink and shiny and far more deadly. Harry decided that if you were going to protect yourself, you needed something more dangerous than a serrated kitchen knife. You treasured that pocket knife and you and Harry have had a lot of fun playing with it.

“Harry?” You whispered, creeping down your hallway.

“It’s just me, bunny.” His voice echoed, low and husky.

You smiled, rushing out to find him pushing your window back down and locking the latch. His hair was pulled back into a bun, sitting messily at the back of his head and he was wearing his classic leather jacket and dark jeans. God, you had missed him.

“You really need to start locking your window, y/n.” Harry drawled, turning around to face you. “A madman might try to break in and hurt you.”

You giggled, throwing your pocket knife on your rug carelessly to pounce on him. Literally. He smiled and caught you easily, letting you wrap your legs around his hips while your arms wrapped around his neck.

Your mouths joined almost instantly, lips brushing against lips in a heated exchange. You threaded your fingers in his hair and tugged until his bun came loose and his hair fell to his shoulders. He groaned at the feeling and ran his tongue against the seam of your lips, nibbling down on your bottom lip.

“I missed you, madman.” You whispered once your lips broke, shifting in his arms. His hands supported your bum, squeezing while he devoured your mouth once more. His body was sore from his weekend job, but he’d never let that get in the way of having his girl in his arms.

“I missed you too, bunny. So much… I couldn’t breathe without you.” He murmured, setting you down with a little wince. You noticed it immediately and ran your hands over his face, angling his head around to look for any injuries. He wasn’t bruised on his face for once, but you knew he was hurting somewhere.

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt? What happened?” The questions came out spitfire, making Harry smile down at you and set his hands on your hips. Your eyes found a dried substance at his collar and you recognised what it was immediately. “Is that blood?”

“Not mine.” He assured, “I’m fine, baby. Don’t worry.”

You ignored his assurance and started running your hands over his chest, looking for any sign of pain or visible jerk out of tenderness. When your fingers grazed his lower abdomen, he couldn’t hide the clench of his jaw. You glared up at him, pressing harder against the spot so he’d feel a little payback for lying to you.

Harry groaned and dug his fingers into your hips, ensuring it was hard and painful enough to leave a bruise. You didn’t mind though, in fact, you quite liked it.

“Jesus Harry, you got shot!?” Your eyes widened when you tugged up his t-shirt to find a bloody gauze. You knew what it was immediately. You had seen your fair share of bullet wounds in your work placements at the hospital as well as the dodgy ways they tried to mend them themselves. “When did this happen?” You decided to peel off the gauze to see the wound for yourself, not trusting the temporary mend he had done. The wound had been stitched up quite well actually, but it was inflamed and a few stitches had broken. It needed to be mended.

“Did it go all the way through? Is the bullet still in here? Why didn’t you tell m-”

Harry interrupted your second spitfire of the evening by pressing his lips to yours. It was quick to shut you up, especially when he slid his tongue against the seam of your mouth and dominated his way in. His tongue slid against yours, tobacco and whiskey heavy in the kiss.

You whimpered against his mouth, almost forgetting about the bullet wound until you felt its blood soak your fingertips. Pulling back, Harry tried to chase your mouth, needing you violently. Insatiably. He had missed your soft skin and your delicious mouth and especially missed your sweet sweet pussy. One he had a severe craving for. He could almost taste it on his tongue.

“Bathroom. Now. Your stitches are busted.” You pushed your finger to his chest and he easily backed away. He was completely whipped by you, willing to do anything you told him.

“Alright, bunny. You’re the boss.” He murmured, shrugging his jacket off to dump it on the couch before following you to the bathroom. You both followed the same routine as always. He sat on the closed toilet seat and you readied your supplies to treat his wounds.

“Top off.” You instructed, using a lighter to sanitise the end of the needle you threaded already.

“Yes ma’am.” He chuckled softly, stifling a groan as he grabbed the back of his collar and pulled his shirt off his head. “You’re feisty when you’re mad.”

“You shouldn’t have lied to me.” You shot back, sanitising the scissors next with your betadine.

“It’s just a bullet wound, bunny.” He tried to soothe, watching you approach him and rub the wound with betadine in preparation to cut his original stitches and do new ones. “Didn’t even go straight through me.”

“So the bullet’s still in there? Jesus, Harry. Why didn’t you go to the hospital? I’m not equipped to remove a fucking bullet in my bathroom.” You snapped.

“It’s not in there, y/n. One of my boys removed it, okay?” He chuckled softly, both loving and hating how worried you were. He reached up to cup your face, “I’m fine. The only thing wrong with me is a busted stitch.”

You ignored him, keeping your glare strong on your face. His hands dropped to his knees and he remained completely still while you worked on the wound. He hated that permanent crease on your brow and all he wanted to do was make it go away.

“What’s wrong?” He nudged, poking at your leg when you stayed completely silent. You were in your usual oversized t-shirt, underwear combination, but this particular t-shirt was long enough to cover your bum and the tops of your thighs. “C’mon bunny, talk to me.”

“You’re distracting me.”

“And you’re ignoring me. I don’t like when you’re cross with me.”

“Well I don’t like being left in the dark for an entire week and when you show up you’ve been shot.” You snapped, pulling the needle tighter than you’d usually do to make a knot, just so it hurt a little more. He clenched his jaw, but he was more concerned about you than the temporary pain of his stitches. “What if you died Harry? Then what? I would’ve…” you looked away to grab the scissors, trying to blink away the tears. When you returned, his gaze was soft. “I would’ve never known. You would’ve left me and I… I’d never know.”

You couldn’t even focus on his wound with how hard your hands were shaking. You managed to cut the excess thread, but the moment it was done Harry pulled the scissors and needle out of your hand and brought your shaking ones to his.

“Y/n, I’d never do that to you. Never.” Harry scanned your face, reaching up to cup you to get you to look at him. “I didn’t mean to scare you, bunny.” He wrapped his hand around the nape of your neck, gently pulling you down to rest your forehead against his. “I should’ve told you.”

“Yeah, you should’ve.” You agreed, unable to stop a few tears streaming down your cheeks. “You’re an asshole.”

“I am.” He nodded, trying to kiss you until you turned your head away from him. “I fucked up. I’ll never, ever do that again. Never.” He promised, tipping his forehead to your cheek while threading your fingers to press your hand against his racing heart. “My heart belongs to you forever.”

“I’m yours, Harry.” You promised, pulling back to wipe your tears away and get the bandage to cover his wound. He sighed and grabbed your waist instead, pulling you closer between his legs so you wouldn’t go too far. “But I need… I need something. I can’t keep waiting for you to show up with nothing in between. I can barely sleep when you’re not here.”

“Okay. I’ll… I’ll get a burner. Untraceable. Just for you and me.” He suggested, “You’ll never go a day without hearing from me again.” It was a promise. An oath. He never wanted to be the cause of your tears again, even if he knew he would be. It was why he didn’t want to keep your hopes up about a future, even if he wanted it more than anything in the entire world.

“You promise?” You asked, running hands over the placed bandage to seal it in place. He nodded, looking up at you with a soft smile. You hated how easy it was to forgive him. But you loved when he looked at you like that. Like you were his entire world.

“I promise. Cross my heart.” He murmured, running his hands over your waist and hips, “now will you stop being mad at me and give me a kiss?”

Harry stood up, overpowering you with his height. Using one hand on your waist, he nudged you against the basin and used the other hand to cup the side of your neck. His gaze was dark, eyes blazing with a need to please and be pleased. He was hungry for you, just like he was since the moment he got on his bike to drive down to see you.

“Please, bunny. Let me make it up to you.”

All you could do was nod.

Harry was easy to succumb to your influence, easy to follow instructions and do whatever you wanted. But he was just as easy to overpower you, to dominate you. To get you reduced to nothing but a whimper and a nod of your head.

He was quick to duck in and clasp your lips together. It started slow and steady, a languid dance of your mouths that turned into something far more passionate. It always did. He slid his hand to the back of your neck, threading his fingers into your hair to move your face in the direction he wanted while he nibbled on your bottom lip and slid his tongue against the seam of your mouth.

You let him in easily, loving the slow, deliberate slide of his tongue against yours. That familiar tobacco mint flavour was heavy in the kiss, a mix of the cigarette he no doubt had before climbing up the fire escape and the mint gum he liked to chew on to try and curb the habit. It never did work, but you liked the taste of him trying to stop the nasty addiction.

You pulled him closer by his hips, digging your fingers into the slight pudge just above his belt. It was one of your favourite parts of him to kiss, to bite. You had dug your teeth in it so many times Harry was tempted to get a tattoo of your bite so he could remember the feeling of your teeth sinking into him forever.

“Wanna taste you, bunny.” Harry groaned, tucking his hand under your shirt to fiddle with the band of your lace underwear. Your hips bucked up to meet the touch, desperate to get him doing more than just play with your underwear. “Missed the sweet taste of you on my tongue.” He kissed you softly, dragging your bottom lip back between his teeth until he released it with a pop. “Always dream of it when I’m away.”

“I guess what’s one way to apologise.” You breathed, sighing when he pinched your thigh. He tucked his hands under your ass, hoisting you up so you’d wrap your legs around his hips.

“Mhmm. I’d happily die apologising to you. Over and over.” He had this smirk playing on his lips, but you didn’t particularly find it funny.

“Don’t talk about dying.” You reprimanded softly, playing with his hair while he carried you to your bedroom.

“Not even if it’s death by your sweet pussy?” He grinned, lowering you onto the bed. You shuffled upwards, rolling your eyes as he knelt on the bed to hover over you.

“For someone who gets shot for a living, you have the humour of a 13-year-old boy.”

“And you don’t like that?” Harry raised his brow, grinning while leaning in to kiss you. You hummed into the kiss, tugging on his hair until his groan rumbled into your mouth. He pressed his weight against you, ensuring you felt every inch of his arousal for you.

He could feel yours right back. How wet you were, how warm your pussy was pressed right against his jeans. You had properly soaked through your lacy underwear and Harry could feel his jeans slowly dampen from the way he was grinding his hips against you. It was heaven. He could hardly wait to get his mouth on your sweet little cunt, especially when you were already so worked up for him.

“Your humour is only funny…” you paused to gasp, head tilting back so Harry could nip down along your neck. “…sometimes.”

“And you’re sexy all the time.” He murmured, simultaneously pushing your oversized t-shirt up while kissing downwards. He ran his hands over every inch of exposed skin, pushing the shirt above your breasts so he could clasp his lips around one of your nipples.

You took the shirt off immediately, whimpering and bucking your hips to meet his while you scratched at his back. He scraped his teeth against your sensitive bud, tugging and sucking hard enough to make your head spin. While he assaulted your nipples, his hands ran over your belly and hips down to your thighs spread wide underneath him. It was only when his fingers crawled to your very inner thigh ready to tease you through your underwear that he felt the thin film of plastic.

“What’s this?” His movements stopped immediately as he felt over the thin plastic film. You whimpered at the sensitivity, feeling particularly sore after your adventure yesterday.

“I did something and you can’t be mad…” You breathed, watching him sit back on his haunches.

His eyes widened when he got a better look, resting his hand on your thigh while he ran his thumb over the four little letters now permanently marked on your skin. Harry was no stranger to tattoos, he was practically covered in them. But the last thing he ever expected was for you to make your temporary tattoo last longer by making it permanent.

His handwriting. His claim. Harry permanently etched on your body forever.

“Bunny…” Harry murmured, looking between you and the tattoo. “What did you do?”

“You said you couldn’t promise me forever but you could give me until the tattoo fades…” His eyes focused on you and you felt yourself already becoming pliant just with the dark look on his face. “...now it’ll never fade.”

He said nothing for a moment and just stayed staring at your tattoo. His eyes drifted upwards ever so slightly to where your pretty lace underwear was pressed snugly to your pussy. Then he looked further upwards to your soft belly and your perky tits and finally… to your face. Your pretty eyes and your lips, the lips he loved to kiss more than anything.

Harry was back over you in an instant, cupping your jaw while kissing you like he was ravenous for it. You whimpered into it, tugging on his hair until your lips parted in a gasp.

“Can’t believe you did that, bunny. Got a fucking tattoo so I’d be stuck to you forever.” He murmured, smushing his mouth to yours again. “That was the plan, wasn’t it? Force my hand so I’d be yours forever.” He started to kiss back down your body again, making sure his tongue pressed against your skin with every touch.

“I love you. I want… I want to be yours forever.” You whimpered, watching him settle between your spread legs with an evil smirk on his face.

“And you thought a tattoo was the right choice? Hm? You thought letting some other man permanently alter your body was the way to go?” He dipped his fingers into the waistband of your underwear, tearing the lacy material in two. He was completely rough with it, making sure it ached as he pulled torn pieces off your body.

“It wasn’t a man. She… shit.” You couldn’t even find the words, not when he spread you wide and stared at you like you were some fine dessert.

“You think that makes it better, bunny? You think who did the tattoo makes a difference?” He raised his brow, running both his thumbs up your outer labia to tease you.

“I told you not to be mad.” You whined, pressing your hands to your face.

“I’m not mad. I think this is quite possibly the hottest… most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me.” You peeked through your parted fingers, looking down at where he was looking up at you, spreading his hands to kiss at the thin layer of plastic. “So fucking sexy.” Harry murmured, looking down at it in awe.

“So why do you sound mad?” You whispered, looking down at him.

“I’m not mad you got a tattoo, I’m mad I wasn’t there. Didn’t I always say I wanted to be there for your first one?”

“Well yes but-“

“And didn’t you promise me that I would be?”

“Yes…” you swallowed thickly. He was speaking at you in such a condescending way. Like you were a child being taught a basic lesson for the first time. It was belittling.

It turned you on in such a feral way. He could even mansplain anything and you’d be happy to play into it. As long as he sounded like that and wound up between your thighs afterwards he could speak to you however he liked.

“So you went against your word, hm?” He smirked as your thighs trembled on either side of his shoulders, your body growing more and more sensitive and needy as he started tracing over your pussy.

“I guess so.”

“Do I go against my word? Have I ever broken a promise before?”

“Yes.” You tried to defend, knowing very well he always stuck to his word. Harry had never broken a promise to you. Not when he told you he’d be back in three days or when he didn’t know but promised he’d return to you safely. He always kept his word.

To be fair though, it was hard to stay clear-minded when he was caressing your pussy like it was something cute to pet. It wasn’t. And with every stroke of his fingers, every slide through your crease to spread your arousal up to your clit before coming straight back down like he didn’t even know what a clit was, your mind was spiralling. He was killing you.

“Oh really?” He nudged a finger to your entrance, pressing just hard enough to slip the very top inside of you. You always were the most sensitive at your g-spot then right here, at the very beginning where all your nerves were alive and your pussy was clenching around nothing because you needed something inside. Specifically Harry’s cock. “Tell me. When?” He pressed an open-mouthed kiss to your clit and finally slid his finger inside of you, eliciting the prettiest whine.

“Um… Uhh…” You couldn’t speak or think with his tongue slowly sliding over your clit now. He traced languid circles and waves, taking complete control and doing it all at his own pace. Harry was tasting you for his own pleasure more than he was yours, even if he did love the way you came for him.

“Exactly.” He smirked, “So let me take my time with you. I’m owed that, aren’t I?”

“I thought you were meant to be apologising to me? This feels like an unfair system. A bullet wound is more serious than a tattoo.” You complained, sliding your hands into his hair to try and drag him closer to you.

After being away from him for so long, one of the longest times apart since you started dating-or whatever you two were, all you wanted was to feel him. You wanted his pleasure and the weight of his body on top of you. Teasing wasn’t fun when you were apart more than you were together.

You prayed that would change after the gesture you made. The permanent commitment to him.

“Which one is permanent?” He grinned lazily up at you.

“You could’ve died.” You argued.

“But I didn’t. Now will you stop complaining otherwise I’m more than happy to stop. It’s been a big day I could easily go to sl-”

“No!” You jumped a little too quickly, making him laugh and press spongey kisses against your inner thighs. “No… no, please. I’ll take whatever you want. I’ll be good.”

“Yeah?” He smirked, pressing his fingers into your fresh tattoo. You gasped, clutching his hair tighter in your hands. “That’s what I like to hear, pretty girl. Besides, I think letting me take my sweet time tasting you is the best punishment out there. Don’t you think?”

Harry pressed a few chaste kisses along your thighs, feeling just how tense you were. You were clenching around his finger and holding onto his hair tight so he wouldn’t move away. But he couldn’t have you so tense… he needed you to relax.

“Calling it a punishment scares me…” you whimpered, feeling his tongue slide over your clit in a sloppy figure-eight pattern.

“mh… just relax, bunny. Stop thinking and let me take care of you… you’re my girl, aren’t you? My sweet, delicious girl. My girl?” He ran his thumb over your tattoo, speaking right against your clit like he was talking to your pussy instead of you.

“Mhmm.”

“Then relax… you deserve to be spoiled after all you do for me…” Harry looked up at you, smiling as you forced your body to melt into the bed.

Your eyes fluttered shut, head tilting back when his mouth returned to your clit. He gently added another finger inside of you, curling them both into your g-spot in a steady stroke. They felt so deep inside of you, nowhere near as full of his cock but still so so good.

The combination of his tongue and his fingers were driving you crazy, but he did them in such a relaxed, languid way that you knew it would take you ages to cum, if he even let you.

“See? ‘S nice isn’t it?… you always take care of me, bunny. Always clean my wounds and take good care of m’cock… m’heart too…. Always make me feel so happy.”

“You make me happy too… scare me a lot too…” You sighed, fisting his hair as he grazed his teeth over your clit.

“I don’t mean to,” Harry murmured against you, kissing against your clit in an infuriatingly light touch. “Only want to make you feel good… feel safe…”

“You do… you do… just-fuck, please… More… Harder.”

He smirked at your begging, the whiny tone in your voice going straight to his cock. Barely a couple minutes into it and you were already getting desperate. Already tugging at his hair and starting to wiggle.

He loved you like this because he had the ultimate control over whether or not he gave you what you wanted. At this point, it could go either way.

“Not yet sweetheart, ‘m having too much fun just like this…”

Your back arched when he pressed his fingertips into your tattoo, purposefully digging into the soft skin. It was a small tattoo, tiny in comparison to half of Harry’s work but you had a relatively low pain tolerance and your very inner thigh was quite sensitive. It was torturous paired with the way his tongue softly stroked against your clit.

“Please, Harry…” You begged once more, using your hands in his hair to try and drag him closer to you. You were writhing beneath him, desperate for something more than just light teasing shapes. You could barely handle it anymore.

“Ah.” Harry tutted, slipping from your clit with a little pop of his lips. He grinned up at you, mouth and chin all soaked and dripping before pulling your hands from his hair to push them down on the bed beside you. It was possibly one of the most erotic things you had ever seen. “Y’know I like my hair pulled, bunny but if you keep pushing it, I’ll make sure you don’t cum at all. Let me enjoy you.”

“Okay…” You nodded quickly, hoping he wouldn’t stop altogether. “m’sorry. I’ll be good.”

“Good.”

Harry released your hands before grabbing a hair tie from his wrist and putting his hair up in a bun. God when he did that… it did unspeakable things to you. You watched him obsessively, frothing over the way his arms and chest stretched and flexed with every small movement. Up behind his head then back down to the bed when he settled between your thighs while staring at you with this triumphant fuckboy smile.

“You’re so pretty, y’know that. So so pretty and all mine.” He murmured, tracing his finger through your crease while looking straight at your pussy with complete awe. Harry was fucking obsessed with you.

“Harry…”

“I know,” he sympathised, voice almost mocking at your flushed cheeks. He loved when you got nervous. “You’re so pretty when you blush, y/n.” He blew gently over your clit, sliding his two fingers back into you.

Closing his mouth around your clit, he started pleasuring you again. He moved his tongue against you harder and curled his fingers into you with far more purpose than before. And finally, finally you were starting to feel that relief. It was exactly what you needed to start to feel that twist in your stomach and shake in your thighs… the rush before that euphoric release. Your toes were starting to curl and your fingers tightened into his hair, tugging so hard he had to dig his fingertips into your tattoo to ground himself from how desperate he was getting from his hair being played with.

“Oh god… I’m… ‘mgonna…”

And then the rush stopped, that spiraling wave freezing right before it tumbled over the cliff. Harry removed his mouth and halted his fingers, kissing over your thighs instead with an evil grin you could feel against your skin.

“Harry” you protested, gasping while looking down at him. Your legs attempted to clam around his head and you tried to tug his mouth back to you but he easily overpowered you and used his arms to pin your thighs wide against the bed.

“You’re cute when you’re desperate. Might be my second favourite look on you.” He bit down on your thigh, chuckling against your skin.

“What’s the… what’s your favourite?” Your breathing felt laboured, skin already feeling a little sticky from being teased for so long.

“When you orgasm… sometimes it’s when I’ve got you so far gone you’re fucking sobbing for me. Only like your tears when they’re because of m’cock.”

He was evil.

Was it fucked up that knowing he liked to make you cry turned you on?

“You’re so mean… you know I-oh” your words got caught in his throat, eyes fluttering closed again when he started tracing his tongue over your clit again.

Harry started to tease you again, going back to that languid, gentle touching. He was enjoying every second of it too, moaning into you, using his spare hand to grab on your belly and your breasts. He pinched at your nipples before pressing against your tattoo, all to rile you up and build your orgasm again so damn slowly.

Harry was nearly about to burst. You were so wet and so fucking sweet and though he loved having his face between your thighs for hours on end, it turned him on beyond anything else on the fucking planet. He had to keep focusing his mind elsewhere, on anything but the way your cream was coating his fingers and dripping down his palm, or how you were so fucking wet just one slide of his tongue through your crease echoed around the entire room.

But then you got a little too sensitive, a little too desperate and tugged his hair so hard it slipped from the bun he did earlier. He was just as happy to punish you than he was to rest his face between your thighs.

The pleasure stopped once more and you were flipped so fast onto your belly, you didn’t have an opportunity to try and wiggle away. He gathered your hands quickly in one of his so you couldn’t move and ignored your whine of his name.

“I warned you once, y/n, and you didn’t want to listen…”

“Harry ‘m sorry. I’ll be good. I promise.” You protested, at Harry’s complete mercy. He pinned you to the bed with one hand, keeping your hands pressed to your lower back while he pulled his belt out of his belt loops. You wiggled beneath him, trying to get out of his tight grip only to be suddenly swatted with his belt over your ass.

You gasped at the sting, feeling the spot on your skin grow a heartbeat of its own. It was a warm spiced feeling, oozing down to your aching clit that Harry had teased all night.

“You did this to yourself, bunny. I wanted to be nice and I wanted to enjoy your sweet little pussy but you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself. Could you?” Harry looped the belt around your hands then tightened it with the buckle so it was snug around your wrists. He tugged at it just to be sure you couldn’t slip out before hovering over you to kiss you gently on your shoulder.

“Okay?” He asked, nuzzling his nose against your cheek.

“Mhmm.” You nodded.

“Colour?”

“Green.”

“Good girl.” He whispered the praise against your shoulder, kissing the middle of your back on his way back to kneel behind you.

Harry was quick to pull your ass up off the bed until your face was pressed to the duvet, giving him the perfect access to all your pretty holes. You were practically dripping. Already edged once with no relief and now he could just taste you and bury his face without having your hands in the way. His perfect girl.

“See…” He murmured, tracing his hands over your ass. “Isn’t this better? Now I can enjoy you in peace.”

You responded with a noise of indignation, squeezing your fists when he chuckled and spanked your ass in that same spot he whacked his belt. Your skin was pulled taught with the way your chest was pressed to the bed, making the sting heavier than usual.

Even though you whimpered and your whole body jerked at the feeling of his palm on your ass, Harry knew you enjoyed it. Just like you enjoyed being tied up.

The only reason you protested having his belt around your hands was because you hated it like this. Behind your back or pinned to your sides or thighs. You didn’t like not being able to feel him, especially when you couldn’t see him either. With Harry always gone you just wanted to touch him as much as humanly possible when he was around him.

You always had a hand on him. In his hair or scratching his back or in his pocket or intertwined with his fingers. You just needed that touch. Craved it. And now it had been taken away.

“God, you taste so fucking good, bunny.” Harry groaned, spanking your ass roughly. He spread your cheeks wide, pulling back to spit right on your tight rim of muscles before he was sucking over your clit again. “Like a fucking dream.”

He groaned against you, nuzzling his nose right against your entrance to press just hard enough to dip into you. The way he used his entire face to pleasure you was completely feral. He’d be able to smell you for days and taste your sweet sweet arousal for hours to come. That’s exactly how he liked it.

He was completely wrapped around your clit, sucking in that perfect rhythmic pressure he knew you liked. The same pressure that had you tumbling towards an orgasm within two minutes flat. Now he seemed to be doing the opposite of his torturous teasing. He was trying to make you cum and he was doing it in the messiest, most feral way possible.

That was somehow more evil because you had nowhere to go. You couldn’t move your hands or grab his hair, not even hold his hand until he reached for you. With the tight grip on your hips, you were pinned in his grip. You didn’t mind though, because he was finally… finally giving you that delicious pleasure.

You were hopeful, your entire body tense and trembling. Your mouth was gaped against the bedding, soft moans muffled into the material. Until your entire world crashed and burned when it all stopped. Again.

“No. Harry...”

“Shh, it’s okay, bunny.” Harry pressed his mouth over your ass, sliding his fingers out of you to run through your crease to your clit. “Still green?”

“Y-yes.”

“Good. Then let’s keep going, shall we?”

You lost count at how many times he edged you. After five it all turned into a blur; a teary, stinging blurr where your mind was completely in the clouds and your body felt like it was melting into a puddle. You were completely heavy in the bed, legs sore and trembling and your arms aching after being behind your back for so long.

Every touch was torture, every flick of his tongue or suck over your clit sent your mind into orbit. You needed to come so fucking badly but there was nothing you could do to get him to let you finish. He was happy to just taste you and lick you until you were reduced to a pile of tears and sore muscles on the bed.

“Please Harry… please I need it so bad… need y’cock so so badly…”

It wasn’t the first time you begged for it, but it was certainly the first time you cried for it. You were crying softly against the bedding, wiggling and clenching around his fingers. Your nails were digging into your palms, trying to counteract the pressure your entire lower body was facing.

“Yeah? Wanna give it to you, bunny. So fucking bad…” Harry’s cock had been painfully sore since your fourth edge, so fucking hard he got rid of all his clothes just for some relief. His jeans were pressing so tight against his cock, he could barely handle it.

Harry was a sadistic fuck, though and he liked the pain. He liked being sore and he liked to edge himself so when he finally got inside you and got that ultimate pleasure, the entire experience was better. He liked it when he made you come multiple times, but there was something romantic about edging you until you cried then letting you finally come when he was deep inside you and about to orgasm himself.

Simultaneous orgasms were a rarity, but Harry liked the challenge. Often it was him timing his with yours anyway. You were terrible at holding your orgasm, practically incapable of it. That’s why edging you was so fun… Harry had complete control over it. He knew the signs of your body reaching that point without you even verbalising it and knew the exact moment to pull away before you tipped over the edge.

And even when you cried and it was sore, your colour remained green the entire time.

“Got me so hard f’you… just need to make sure you really want it, huh?” Harry bared his teeth against your ass cheek, biting down on one of the spots his various spontaneous spanks had made their mark. Your ass was beat red at this point, covered in teeth marks and hand prints from Harry getting too damn excited. He knew it would be sore for a couple of days, but that’s what he wanted.

He wanted his memory on your skin… and now after your tattoo, it would be. Forever.

The thought of that was exhilarating and one of the most terrifying things in Harry’s world.

“I do… I need it so bad, Harry. Feel so empty without you… so sore…” Your words all joined together, a slur of neediness and sniffled tears.

“Oh, I bet, bunny…” He cooed, sliding his fingers out of you before sucking them clean. He then moved up on his knees behind you to gently undo the belt from your wrists. “Bet you’re so sensitive n’sore, aren’t you?” He threw the belt to the side, massaging your wrists in his hand to soothe the reddened skin.

You just nodded against the bedding, curling your fingers back to hold his hands. He sighed at the sight, leaning down to quickly kiss your fingers before rolling you on your back.

“Aw, baby. Look at you all teary-eyed…” Harry cupped your cheek, letting your legs fall wide on the bed as he wiped the tears from under your eye. With his other hand, he grabbed his cock and guided it to your pussy, sliding the head through your folds. His teeth gritted at the sensitivity on his desperate cock and he was trying so hard to not lose all strength in his body just at that one little touch. He was the one desperate now.

“Y’look so pretty like this… fucking gorgeous you are…”

“Harry…” You sighed, holding onto his wrist with one hand while grabbing his hip with the other. Just the feeling of his cock through your folds was heavenly, a sign that you’d finally get to come.

“I love the way you say my name, pretty girl. Like a fucking angel… shit”

His hand slid down your face to your neck, looping around it in a loose hold while he pressed his tip to your entrance and slowly eased his way in. Your pussy was so sensitive from all his teasing and he could tell too. Your cry was loud and your nails dug deep into his hip. He was addicted to the feeling.

“Shit… oh god…” You whined out, head thrown back against the bedding. Your mouth was wide in a pant, chest heaving just at the feeling of him bottoming out inside of you. His cock was always an adjustment… thick and long and fuck, every time you thought of it your mind went a little dizzy.

It ached to have him inside you without being edged so much and now it was like a hot fire in your womb. Your clit was aching, your belly was aching, and everything was so tightly strung all you wanted was just to be fucked. Even if you were more sensitive than ever, you just needed to be fucked hard into the bed.

No teasing. Nothing. You just wanted him to fuck you until you came undone around him.

“Fuck me… please, Harry just fuck me…” your words came in a rushed, desperate plea; your hips jutting to try and get him to move.

“Fuck, bunny. Got a filthy fucking mouth, don’t you…” Harry cursed, tightening his grip around your neck. “I’ll fuck you, alright. I’ll give you exactly what you want…”

He started rocking his hips against you, wasting no time to get to a steady, bruising pace. It was hips snapping against hips, your thighs wide on the bed while he used his hand around your neck for balance. His balls slapped against your ass and his noises of pleasure were so goddamn erotic you knew you’d never forget the sound of them.

It was euphoric.

“God baby, you feel so fucking good wrapped around me. And you’re all mine, aren’t you? All fucking mine…” Harry grunted, gritting his teeth to try and stop himself from finishing too fast. He was practically going to burst the moment his cock slid inside you. “And this…” He pressed his palm to your thigh, heavily running his thumb over your tattoo… “is so sexy… so fucking sexy…”

Neither of you seemed to care about the fact he had fresh stitches and a fresh bullet wound because the way he was fucking you was too good to care about something that could be so easily fixed. That pain in his abdomen did very little to stop him from giving you the fucking you deserved, even if that meant he’d have to sit through another angry stitching done by you.

Hopefully, this time you weren’t as angry or as rough with him… though he wouldn’t have minded if it meant he’d have you again like this.

You couldn’t even respond to him because it felt like your mouth had disconnected from your brain. Your body was so overstimulated that your mind could barely function. But you could drag him down with two hands on his jaw and kiss him. It was messy and uncoordinated but that didn’t even matter. All that mattered was that his body was on yours and you felt the closeness you had craved since the moment he tied your wrists behind your back.

“I love you… I love you so much…” You murmured, already feeling your orgasm approach again. It hardly took any time, not when he was fucking you so good and so hard. He felt deeper than ever before, so deep you could feel that deep pit in your stomach start to churn. It was a feeling that didn’t happen very often, but one both you and Harry reaped the benefits of.

“I love you so much, angel. My love forever and always.” Harry groaned into your mouth, gathering your hands in his and intertwining your fingers together. He pushed on either side of your head, pressing them into the bedding as he started to kiss along your jaw and neck to get a bit of air.

The dirty talk kept spilling out of his mouth, some coherent and others just desperate strung together sentences that made your head spiral and your pussy clench around his cock. He had a way with words, both in and out of the bedroom and it never failed to knock you to the fucking floor.

That deep churning in your pit only grew and started to press right against your clit. You could feel the pressure building and building until it felt like you were going to burst. Your clit was aching; a pinching white-hot pleasure beating from it like it had its own heartbeat.

“Oh… shit… shit. Harry… ‘m gonna… ‘m gonna squirt” The words barely got out, all thrown together in a loud cry right in his ear before you felt the damn burst from inside of you.

It rolled over you in a crash. An initial euphoric crash of pleasure hitting your body from all angles. Waves and waves of pure ecstasy made your thighs tremble and your toes curl. Your whole body shook as the first spray of your arousal hit Harry’s lower belly and with every squirt after, another jolt of electricity.

“Shit baby. Good fucking girl. Fucking hell…” Harry cursed, grinding his hips against you to try and draw as much of your orgasm through. He felt it coat his cock and the hairs at his base, dripping down to his balls until it started to dampen the bedding beneath you. “Jesus, bunny. ‘M gonna cum… Can I?...”

“Want it… want it inside, please…” you whimpered, squeezing his hands tight as the pleasure started to die down to a low beat in your clit.

Harry’s mouth smushed against yours as he fucked himself once more inside of you, groaning against you as his body trembled above you. You could feel the hot bliss of his come filling you to the brim and the sudden weight of him on top of you when he let himself relax against your body.

“Shit, bunny…” He sighed, dropping his forehead to the crook of your neck.

You were both exhausted. Your skin was damp and sticky and the bed below you felt exactly the same. It was a mess. You were a mess and yet you were the happiest you could’ve been. Sore muscles and a fire beating on your ass and fresh tattoo meant nothing compared to the fulfilment you had just being with Harry.

“Are you okay?” He whispered after a moment of silence, resting his chin on your chest to look at you. He needed to collect himself before he checked on you so he was physically able to take care of you and provide whatever you needed. He definitely needed to have a shower or bath with you and rub some cream on your wrists and bum.

“I’m good,” You whispered back, smiling softly at him. “A little sore but so good… are you okay?”

“I’m perfect,” he smiled and softly kissed your sweaty skin, “can I pull out now?”

With a small nod, he gently pulled himself out of you and then started your normal routine. He went to get some water and a damp towel to clean you both up and then returned to clean you while you guzzled the entire thing. Some nights you two jumped in the shower straight away, but that was only if you weren’t going to have another round or were prepared to change the sheets at the same time.

Tonight wasn’t one of those nights. After you went to the bathroom quickly you returned and you both curled into each other’s arms to have your usual pillow talk. It was your favourite part of sleeping together because it was often when the truth came out or you found out more things about him. You loved that.

“I still can’t believe you did this…” Harry murmured, looking down at the tattoo. He traced his fingers over it, looking at it obsessively.

“Was it too much? Be honest…”

“What?” Harry was a little taken aback and looked up at you with a furrowed expression, “Never. Fucking unexpected but I love it,” he reached up to grab your cheek and you immediately nuzzled into it, holding your hand over his, “I love you, y/n. I don’t say it often enough but I do. And I want you in my life, I just don’t know how to do it. I don’t know how to keep you safe.”

“Let me come with you.” You responded, “next time you go back to the city, let me come. I want to see where you live and… I don’t know, maybe meet your friends? Or…” you felt a little embarrassed at the next words that came out of your mouth, but you weren’t exactly sure how else to say it, “work colleagues…”

Harry cracked the biggest fucking grin at how you phrased it, but he tried to not laugh so he wouldn’t embarrass you. “Alright. Tomorrow. I’ll take you back with me.”

“Tomorrow?” You blinked, not expecting him to just willingly agree like that.

“Yes. I don’t have a job until Thursday so we’ll have a couple of days together. But that’s only if you don’t have college or wo-”

“I don’t.” You interrupted quickly, knowing very well you did have university and work. Harry knew that too, he just wanted to see if you’d really skip a few days of responsibility for him. “I’d love to go.”

Harry smirked, nearly getting all worked up again at the thought of his angel skipping classes just to spend time with him. “Good…” He then cleared his throat and sat up so he could look at you, “I want you to have this.”

He removed his signature cross necklace from around his neck and motioned for you to sit up as well. “Harry… I couldn’t”

“You can.” He pressed, placing the necklace over your head. He eyed the way it fell right between your breasts and pulled your hair out from underneath it so it wouldn’t get tangled. “Always wear this, y/n. I mean it. The moment I take you into the city there will be people who care that you know me and they’ll use it against me.” Harry played with the cross between two fingers, rubbing his thumb over the front of it, “Wearing this… it’s a protection.”

“How?...” You whispered, looking between the necklace and his gorgeous green eyes.

“Because this-” his hand fell to your thigh, squeezing over the plastic film of your tattoo, “-tells me that you’re mine and this-” he grabbed the chain again, tugging it ever so slightly, “tells the entire fucking world.”

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yeonzzzn · 8 months ago

Text

wanna be the sequel: sim jaeyun

part two of chilling & killing 🔪 | spotify playlist

pairing: jake x afab!reader word count: 11.6k

synopsis: you decide to keep jake’s secret of him being the mysterious ghost face killer, always taking up for him and playing dumb to the cases. but as jake’s love for you starts to overpower him and blurs his lines, his killer instinct reaches new heights.

genre: situationship, ghostface!jake, journalist!reader, smut.

warnings: swearing, jake is fucking insane, blood & m*rder, reader has a dream of being k!lled, knife play, fingering, oral (m. rec), cum eating, multiple unprotective sex scenes, one public sex scene bc jake got jealous, reader gets fucked against a mirror, reader gets cut at some point, if I missed everything please let me know!

His smirk sent chills down your spine as he buried himself deep within you, one hand was on your neck and the other squeezed the plush of your thighs. His thrusts were rough and relentless, that evil smirk growing wider and wider as the clock ticked along.

“I’ve dreamt of this,” he cooed, cock twitching against your walls, “Fucking you to death, it’s so hot.”

His hand left your thigh, and where it went, you had no idea. You just knew his thrusts were now sloppy and his cum was filling you whole.

“Hmmm, so pretty,” he cooed again, breathing hard after his release, an unbearable amount of pain now being felt at your side, “So pretty with how you bleed out for me.”

You looked to your left, seeing his knife pushed between your skin and your blood gushing onto the handle, his hand, and the floor.

You gasped for air, tears swelling your eyes as you looked up at him, begging for him to stop.

“Awe, sweet baby,” he slowly pulls the knife out of your side, bringing it up to his face, “Your blood is pretty too, everything about you is so pretty.”

You tried to pull yourself up, to throw him off you, but your body weighed millions, arms like lead.

He presses the tip of his knife to your bare chest, aiming right atop your heart, “I’ve always wondered what it would feel like to kill you, feeling your blood on my hands,” he slowly pushed the knife in, and your gasps came in a rush and slowly dragged. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, “Sweet honey, so pretty even when you’re dying.”

He laughs. You blinked at him as the tears fell down your cheeks, taking one final breath and everything turning black.

You shot straight up in your bed, hands reaching for your chest and side, not feeling the wounds. It was just a dream…just a dream.

Sweat droplets slid down your face and you wiped them away with the back of your hands. The cool air of your apartment helped cool you off from the dream. Creating goosebumps on your skin.

The dream. Where was Jake?

You looked to your left, seeing his side of the bed empty, “Jake?” you called out, your heart racing faster, “Jaeyun?”

You glanced at the chair in the corner of the room, seeing his duffle bag still there, the ghost face mask hanging from the top of the chair, staring directly back at you. His side of the bed was cold, proving he’d been gone for a while, “Jake?” you called out again, the silence was starting to make you go crazy, crazier than you already were for homing a serial killer.

You had feelings for him, despite everything he has done and will do. You wanted to fix him, praying that having him by your side twenty-four-seven was doing the trick, even if it was a little at a time.

But you started to panic, slowly starting to crawl out of bed when your bedroom door opened and your heart stopped.

“You called for me, honey?” Jake asked with a quart of cherry vanilla-swirled ice cream in his hands and a spoon hanging from his mouth. You stared at him, not knowing what to make of this. He looks down at the quart in his hands and back up at you, “I was craving a late-night snack.”

How was the man in front of you a serial killer? How was he clinically insane and batshit crazy, but craved ice cream? Being so soft and gentle at this moment. You’d never guessed he’d murdered so many people.

Jake pulled the spoon from his mouth and reached it back into the quart, “Want some?”

You shrugged but nodded, might as well right?

With a cute smile on his face, he sits down on the bed in front of you and scoops up the creamy goodness, and holds it to your mouth, “Say ah!”

You let him feed you, feeling your heartwarming by how cute he was right now. How…angelic he was. Jake’s happy expression quickly changes to a concerned one, “Honey, what’s wrong?” He sat the ice cream down on the nightstand table and placed his cold hands on your cheeks, thumbs wiping away the tears you didn’t realize were still there, “talk to me.”

You didn’t know how to tell him you dreamed of him killing you. Mostly when nearly two months ago he was so willing to slice your throat open on your kitchen floor. “It was just a bad dream.”

Jake pouts, “My sweet baby,” he lays down beside you and pulls you to his chest, cuddling you close to him, “I’m sorry, want to talk about it?”

You shook your head, wrapping your arm around his waist, “I just want to be close to you, it’s helping. I promise.”

Jake pressed a kiss to the top of your head. He wasn’t stupid, he knew exactly what you dreamt of. The look on your face gave it away. Jake expected it, honestly. He almost killed you, so you have a very valid reason for having such horrid dreams as that. Jake couldn’t lie, he wanted nothing more than to slice his knife across certain parts of your body to watch you bleed, but not kill you. How could he kill the love of his life?

He held you close, listening to the sound of your breathing and how it slowed down as you drifted back off to sleep. He slowly traced his thumb up and down your back, his eyes locking onto his mask hanging from the chair, and a smirk spread on his lips.

It was almost time.

—

You leaned against the table, crossing your arms and staring at the corkboard. Eyes tracing along the red thread that connected each murder case. The murder cases against Ghost Face…against Jake. You mindlessly kept your eyes tracing, acting like you were busy trying to figure it out, acting like you normally would on any other day. It’s been a rough couple of months of lying to the rest of your club, that’s for sure. How did Jake do it this whole time?

“YN!!” You whip your head around to the new recruit of the club, seeing her bright cute smile as she walks up to you, and then look at the board, “You’ve been staring for a while, find any new clues?”

Danielle Marsh, a freshman and such a sweet girl who came from Australia on a journalism scholarship and has the brains—and the grades—to make it big one day. She is just as invested in the Ghost Face murders almost as much as you were. Lying to such a sweet soul every day was heartbreaking.

“Nope, not yet? Dani,” you said with a fake sigh, looking back at the board, “Nothing new.”

“Well darn!” her cute Aussie accent puffed, “I’ve also been staring at this all day, and going through your old journals and notes about the cases to get a brighter idea, but nothing.”

You thinned your lips to a line and looked down to the floor, “It’s rough out here.”

It was silent in the club room until the doors opened, both you and Danielle looking to see Jake walking in with a bag, “I brought lunch!”

Danielle clapped her hands, rushing to Jake and taking the bag, “Thank you!”

He smiles at her, both of you watching as she makes herself comfy at the table and pulls out everyone’s food.

You sit across from her, feeling Jake wrap his arms around your shoulders and resting his chin atop your head.

Danielle hands you a box with your food but notices there are only two boxes, “Are you not eating, Jake?” you ask him.

He shakes his head, “Nope, I ate earlier. I have somewhere to be here soon. Only stopped by to drop off lunch and head out.”

You hummed, wondering what he had to be doing here soon. You already knew, or assumed, what he was doing, but you also couldn’t ask, not with Danielle in the room.

So you both ate in silence, her eyes glancing on and off from you and Jake, a small smile on her face, “Jake have you figured anything else out about the murders?”

You tried to act normal, to keep your body calm and a poker face on, continuing to eat as if that question didn’t trigger something.

Jake just sighs, deciding to sit beside you now and dropping his face into his palm, “Not a thing. Whoever he is, he’s smart, that’s for sure.”

Way to boost your own ego there, Jake Sim.

“He’ll get caught someday,” Danielle casually says, taking a bite of her chicken.

Jake’s eyes lit up as he smiled, “Oh yeah? You think so?”

You carefully watched him. Jake knew your eyes were on him, watching his body language and how he looked at Danielle. He knew you were probably worried about her, possibly what he’d do to her. But you needn't worry, he wouldn’t harm her. Not unless she got too close.

Danielle nods, “He’s killed over thirty people and somehow stolen evidence from the police station after his first mess up. He’s bound to make another mistake.”

Jake raised his brows, heart pounding fast with excitement. Silly little thing, thinking he was fucking stupid enough to make another mistake like the first time. He was more careful than ever to make sure it wouldn’t happen again. Plus he had you now, you’d make sure nothing bad happened to him.

“Anyway,” Danielle said, changing the subject, “Suspects,” she giggled, “Who do you think the man behind the mask is?”

It was Jake’s turn to watch you, a smile still on his face, “Yeah, honey, have any ideas or clues?”

You wanted to punch him, knowing he was doing this on purpose to tease you, to test you.

So you shrug, keeping your eyes locked to your food, “No idea. I thought I was close once, but after the evidence disappeared, it was back to the drawer board.”

Good fucking girl.

Jake wanted to kiss you so hard right now. It turned him on hearing you lie for him. To act so dumb and oblivious. All for him.

He glanced up at the clock on the wall, his smile only growing wider.

“I’d love to stay with you lovely ladies,” Jake stands up, wrapping his arms back around you, “But I need to head out.” You nod, noticing Danielle’s mouth and eyes are smiling at you both.

Jake kisses your cheek and squeezes you tightly then is out the door.

“You two make such a good couple,” she coos, “Not only are you both the best journalists at this college, you’re the IT couple too!!~~~”

You softly chuckle, “We aren’t together though…” you sigh staring down at your chicken, “More of a situationship than anything else.”

Danielle frowned, “But he moved in with you, didn’t he? He holds your hand around campus and even shows you off on his Instagram. Totally thought you’d be an item.”

You shrug, taking a bite out of your food and swallowing, “He hasn’t asked me out or anything, so there’s technically not a label.”

You honestly didn’t know what Jake wanted with you. He treated you like a girlfriend, made love to you like a girlfriend, and did everything a boyfriend would do. Yet you still had no idea what he wanted. You were more surprised that he agreed to move into your apartment with you, considering he spends his free time, ya know, killing people. You mostly only asked him to move in to save poor Sunghoon, but also because you wanted him close to you. Maybe you were more insane than Jake was.

“Well,” Danielle sighs, “You two still are really cute together. I hope it eventually turns into a real relationship.”

You and me both, Dani.

—

Jake pulls a cell phone from his pocket, quickly dials a number, and presses the device to his ear, adjusting his duffle bag on his shoulder.

“Jake!” she sang on the other line, “Where are you?”

Jake smirks, “I am looking for you, Luna.”

She softly giggles over the line, “I am standing right where you told me to.”

Jake knew where she was. He could see her standing in the alleyway across the street from him. She wore a cute red glittery dress with matching high heels. Blonde dyed hair pulled back into a neat ponytail that was braided. She was cute, but nothing compared to you, his sweet honey.

“I am almost there,” he says, dropping his duffle bag to the ground. He was also standing in an alleyway, it being too dark for anyone to notice him, or even notice Luna across the street from him, “I might have taken a wrong turn.”

She giggles again, “Aren’t you like, top of your class or something? It’s what your dating profile said.”

“Ahh,” Jake chuckles, pulling his black suit from the bag, holding the phone between his ear and shoulder as he puts it on, “I’m book smart, not street smart.” It took everything in Jake to not laugh at how gullible this woman was. It’s why he picked her in the first place. It was so easy to create a fake dating profile on some random ass app with a fake last night and profile picture. This woman doesn’t even actually know what he looks like. Made this all the more fun. It wasn't just because of how stupid she was, she openly has it on her profile that she’s a Ghost Face enthusiast. Imagine that! A personal fan of his, what an honor it was to kill a fan. And an honor to her to be killed by him. Pity though, she was really pretty. He didn’t drive three hours here and wasted another two waiting around for night to hit just to make this an easy kill for her. No no, he was going to make this fun.

Jake continued to watch Luna as she laughed across the street, kicking her heels into the rubble of the street and pulling out his mask. “Wait,” He says, “I think I see you.”

Luna looks up and down the street and even behind her. “I don’t see you.”

“I’m across the street from you,” he smirks, tossing his duffle bag behind some abandoned boxes, and taking further steps back into the dark alleyway, “Walk over to me?”

She smiles and tucks her bottom lip between her teeth, looking both ways before jumping from the curb and rushing across the street, “You better be giving me the best fuck of my life for making me run in heels.”

Jake’s smirk only grew, adjusting his mask over the top of his head, “Oh, don’t worry I’ll fuck you real good, I promise.”

He slid the mask down in place, holding the phone back between his shoulder and ear to slide his gloves on his hands.

“Good,” Luna let out a huff, taking a deep breath as she reached the other side of the street, “snow where are you?”

Jake hid in the darkness, “Hiding, gotta come find me,” he said in a teasing voice, watching how she smiled and walked down the alleyway. Stupid woman.

“I don’t see you, and why do you sound muffled?”

“Must be the shitty connection.”

She shrugs, slowly but surely making her way towards Jake. The closer she got, the more he could tell she was getting uncomfortable, “Jake it’s really dark out here, where are you?”

“Hmmm,” he hums, “I’ll tell you if you answer my question.”

She stops walking, clicking her tongue, and turns around, facing away from him.

Perfect.

“What?” she says annoyed, “If you’re pulling a prank and are actually on the other side of the street I swear.”

“I’m not, don’t worry,” Jake clenched the voice changer attached to his suit, “I just need to ask,” he pressed the button, “What’s your favorite scary movie?”

Luna’s heart dropped, her blood going cold, but a smile on her face, nevertheless, “I didn’t know you were also a Ghost Face enthusiast,” she giggled, “That kind of hot, actually. Didn’t think I’d find anyone else from this town who also was into it.”

Jake creeps up on her slowly, his knife being pulled from his pocket, “You see, the thing is, I am not from this town,” Luna’s smile fades, “I’m also not an enthusiast.”

Before she could turn around, Jake ended the call, tossing the burner phone somewhere in the abyss of the alley, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, and pressing the knife to her neck.

Luna gasps, dropping her phone and purse to the ground, hands flying to Jake’s arm. She opened her mouth to scream, but the sharpness of Jake’s knife cut deep into her throat, the warm red liquid spilling from her neck and down the front of her hands and arms, her dress, and Jake’s arm.

“I am the Ghost Face,” he whispers as Luna starts to struggle against his hold, clawing at his arm with her nails, ripping the long sleeve of his suit, and digging into his skin.

He hisses as pushes her to the ground, her body landing with a thud. Using all the strength she had in her dying body to try and crawl away from him, her blood staining the concrete.

Jake was pissed now. He’d have to sew his suit back together and probably stitch up his arm once he’s back at the apartment. Oh, how worried you’ll be once you see him tonight. His anger flourishes even more, pissed at Luna for how she will make you worry about him.

Jake looped his boot at her waist, lifting her up and forcing her to flip over. He quickly dropped down, straddling her, loving the scared look on her face. The look of death looming over.

“Awe,” he coos, his Aussie accent mixed with the voice mod sent chills down her spine, “You really tried your best to get away,” he pins her arms down with his knees, and free hand pinned her shoulder to the ground, “You really shouldn’t trust random people on the internet. Haven’t your parents taught you that?” She gasped for air, trying to find some way to scream out for help. Jake clicked his tongue, hovering the tip of his knife to her chest, “Don’t you also know it’s rude to ignore people?” he slowly pushed the knife in, “Your parents didn’t teach you a damn thing, no wonder you’re so gullible.”

The sounds of her gasps mixed with the gurgling sounds of her blood pooling out from her neck and chest were music to his ears. He quickly pulled the knife out and slid it back in, creating a new wound. Jake repeated the process, spreading Luna’s blood all over himself, his mask, her dying body, and the ground. Loving how his knife sounded as it repeatedly broke her skin.

Jake was sweating, feeling the droplets stream down his face, needing some air.

He slid the mask up, finally revealing his true face to her. Blood dripped from her mouth as she stared blankly at him, vision going blurry. He laughs, “Still kicking? What a trooper.” He lifted up his right arm, shoving the sleeve up to his elbow, revealing the deep cuts her nails left, “No wonder you left such a nasty wound, you’re a fighter even when you’re fucking stupid.” Luna tried to fight, to say anything, her heartbeat barely holding on.

Jake traced the tip of his knife down the side of her pale face, “My girl might kill me when I return home after seeing the damage you did to my arm,” he tilted his head, “I promised her I would be careful,” he chuckles, “Oh well, I’ll cross that bridge when I get there.”

“fuck…you…” was all Luna managed to say with her dying breath.

Jake’s smile grew, “That wasn’t very nice.” He was done playing now, wanting to return home and cuddle you the rest of the night. He wasted enough time here, “So long, Luna.”

Jake made his final strike, her blood splattering across his face as she took her final breath.

—

You paced about the living room, arms crossed over your chest and hands rubbing your upper arms. Where was he? It’s been hours and he was nowhere to be seen. You called Sunghoon asking if he was with him, only to your dismay, Sunghoon hasn’t seen him since soccer practice this morning.

You already figured out what Jake was doing. His duffle bag wasn’t in its normal spot in the bedroom. The endless thoughts of the worst possible scenarios raced through your head. What if something happened? What if he got caught? What if his victim fought back and he couldn’t get away? Many more different thoughts spilled about your brain. And you wouldn’t rest until he either walked through that door or called you.

You’ve called him multiple times. Texted him too. But got no response. Jake normally turns his phone off when he…to keep from someone tracking his location or disturbing him. It only made you worry more.

The spots on the hard floor were now warm from your pacing and your neighbors below you were probably getting ready to grab a broomstick and start hitting their ceiling.

But all your worries faded when your ears picked up the sound of keys jingling from the other side of the front door, being pushed into the lock and turning. The door opened and finally, Jake stepped inside. He smiled at you, “Hi my sweet honey, you waited up for me?”

You wanted to rush to him, to hug him and kiss him and yell at him for being gone so long and making you worry. To beat the shit out of him for committing another murder and how you felt like shit because all you want to do is fix him. But to your dismay, you know you can’t fix insanity, not when you’re also insane.

Jake tilted his head, “Not going to welcome me home?”

You noticed the dried blood on his face and hair, you pitted whoever the victim was, “Welcome home, Jake.”

“That my sweet honey,” he drops the duffle bag to the floor and walks over to you, embracing you to his chest. He smelt of sweat and blood, causing you to scrunch your nose.

“You need a shower.”

Jake chuckles, squeezing you tightly, “I know.”

You ran your hands from his shoulders down to his forearm, his face wincing. You looked up at him, “What's wrong?”

Jake awkwardly smiled, “Nothing.”

You looked down to his forearm where your hand gripped onto his hoodie sleeve, noticing how pale his skin looked on his hand. Something happened. You quickly pulled up the sleeve, seeing four deep cuts to the skin.

“Now…honey—“

“What the fuck happened?!” You snapped, pointing your finger to the kitchen table, “Sit the fuck down.”

Jake quickly nodded. Shit, she might actually fucking kill me.

You pulled the first aid kit from the bathroom and quickly rushed back to him, kneeling down in front of him. He was lucky you decided to buy the most expensive one and had first aid training. Ya know, in case something like this happened. Jake explained to you the series of events that led up to now, with an insane smile on his face the entire time.

“It was perfect,” he coos, “You should have seen it, honey.”

You gently smiled at him, deciding to keep your thoughts on how you were perfectly fine not being there to witness it. You cleaned up what you could of the wounds, “You’ll need stitches.”

He cocks his head, eyes filled with so much endearment for you, “Good thing I have you to take care of me, ya?” He caresses your cheek, thumb gliding to your lips and pulling the button one down, “So good for me.”

You pulled from his graze, reaching into the kit and pulling out the tools, dissolvable stitches, and bandages, “This will probably hurt.”

Jake shrugs, “I’m a soccer player, I’ve had stitches and broken bones before.”

You pushed off his sassy attitude, preparing the needle and the string. Jake sat through it like a champ, only winching when the needle pierced through his skin. You placed ointment over the stitches and bandaged it up, “All done.”

Jake leans forward and places a kiss on your forehead and then leans back into the chair, “Thank you, honey.”

You packaged up the kit, another thought shooting in your mind, “She dug her nails into you, correct?”

Jake inhales, “Yeah? Isn’t that what I said?”

You glared at him, “She probably has your DNA under her nails, you fucking idiot!”

Your chin was between his index finger and thumb before you even had the chance to blink, his face inches away from yours, “I’m not a fucking idiot!” he hissed between his teeth, “I took care of it.” He dropped your chin, running his hands through his dark sweaty, and blood-soaked hair, keeping eye contact with you. Your pissed-off glare was relentless, and oh man, it was turning him on. Seeing you so pissed off at him yet so worried about his well-being. What did he do to deserve you?

Jake drops his hand to his crotch, palming his hardening length, “I love it when you look at me like that,” he tilts his head, “You know what I’d love even more?”

You waited, feeling your arousal starting to pool on your panties.

“Your mouth wrapped around my cock.”

Jake slowly unbuttoned his jeans, looping his thumbs in between the fabric of his boxers and skin, sliding both his jeans and boxers down to the floor, his fully hard dick resting against his abdomen. He tilted his chin up, signaling for you to touch him.

So you did, wrapping your hand around his base and slowly pumping him, taking the precum spilling from the tip and spreading it around the head. Jake groans at your touch, cock twitching, “Stop teasing me, baby.”

He places his hand on your head, gently pushing you forward, his tip touching your lips. You place a few kisses to the tip, sneaking your tongue out and wrapping it around the head, hand sliding up and down the shaft as you slowly take him in your mouth, bobbing your head in a slow motion and flattening your tongue to fit him in deeper.

“Fuck, honey,” he moans, moving your head with his hand to help you pick up the speed, “Your mouth feels so good.”

His tip hits the back of your throat, kicking in your gag reflex, sending vibrations against him. Jake hisses, flinging his head back over the chair and bucking his hips up, “Fuck, YN, oh fuck.”

Your hands now held onto his thighs, feeling the muscles flex against your palms as he bucked his hips up into your mouth, your nose brushing against his pelvis. You tucked your feet beneath you and squeezed your thighs together, trying to feel some fiction of your own as your arousal pooled in your panties, more than likely soaking through the thin material and your shorts.

Tears swelled your eyes as you tried to breathe through your nose, relishing too much in this pleasure of having him so far down your throat to even dare think about coming up for air. But the twitch his cock did against your tongue told you enough that he wouldn’t last much longer.

You fluttered your eyes up, already seeing him staring back down at you. Jake’s eyes were completely blown out, mouth gaped open, and breathing deeply. The dried blood on his face—for whatever reason—mixed with the facial expression of pure bliss, was so fucking hot on him.

It didn’t make sense to you, how you could find blood splattered across his beautiful face to be so attractive. Maybe it was just your plain attraction to him, the feelings you felt for him that ran so deep that he made blood look good.

Jake loved this moment, loved you. He couldn’t take his eyes off you, watching how his cock disappears down your throat. God, it was perfect, way better than the murder he committed hours ago. He loved how the tears swelled your eyes but you loved every moment of his cock in your mouth.

“You look so pretty wrapped around my cock, baby,” he bucked his hips up harder, hitting the back of your throat and you moaned around him. His fingers tangled in your hair, “I’m gonna fill that pretty little mouth of yours with my load and you’ll swallow it, understand?”

You tried to nod but instead batted your eyes at him in understanding, he just smirked, “Good girl.”

With a few bobs of your head, Jake pushed you down onto him, hips snapping up to meet your nose against his pelvis, his cum shooting down your throat. He took a few deep breaths, rocking his hips to chase out that high, flinging his head back against the chair.

When his grip on your hair released, you slid him out your mouth, causing Jake to look back up at you, waiting. You swallowed his seed, opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out, showing the proof.

Jake smirks, leaning forward and giving you a quick kiss, “I’m so in love with you.”

He stands from the chair, kicking his legs out of his jeans and boxers and pulling the hoodie and shirt off too, tossing them to the floor.

You narrowed your eyes at him, piercing daggers into his back. He just got the best head of his life and he’s stripping and dropping his nasty bloody clothes all over your floor?

“Honey?” he calls for you, pulling out his bloody suit and mask, “Would you mind please washing my clothes for me? I’ll repay you by making breakfast in the morning.”

He turns to you, picking up all the clothes he left on the floor and handing them to you, his naked body distracting you.

“Hey,” he grabs your chin, forcing you to look up at his face, “I’ll make love to you after my shower, okay?” He gives you a wink, “Please wash my clothes?” You quickly nod, how could you turn down getting dicked down later AND breakfast tomorrow morning? He placed one last kiss on your lips and made his way to the shower.

—

You leaned against the arcade machine, watching as Jake and Sunghoon slapped their palms onto the buttons of the Tekken game, both their faces with full smiles and concentration. Your eyes wandered down to Jake’s arms and hands, his beautiful veins popping out.

“Be careful,” you said, fully noticing just how hard the two boys were slapping the buttons, “This is an old machine.”

“YES!!” Sunghoon screamed, raising his hands in the air and causing you to jump back from being startled by his outburst, “Suck it Jake!”

Jake dropped his face into his hands, resting his elbows on the machine, “I was so sure I had you!”

Sunghoon patted Jake’s back, “Can’t win them all buddy.”

Jake quickly shot up from the stool, his index finger pointing across the arcade, “Dance battle me!”

Sunghoon smirked, “You’ll lose again.”

Jake flipped him the bird, shoving the middle finger in his face as he walked away, “Try me.”

The two of them rushed to the Dance Dance Revolution game, fighting over who would use their coins for the round.

You still get whiplash every time you see Jake doing normal things. That this man—who is a fucking serial killer—is fighting with his best friend over who is going to pay for the game, just like any normal set of friends would do. Besides the fact that he is far from normal.

“Kids, am I right?”

You got startled for the second time today, jumping and quickly whipping your head around to see where and who the voice came from. You recognize that dyed blonde hair and smile.

Jay Park. A student in the film department. You’ve worked with him plenty of times on different projects for the college. He even helped you and Jake on one of the first few Ghost Facer murder cases. It’s been a while since you’ve actually gotten to see or really speak to him besides in passing.

You leaned against the Tekken arcade machine and crossed your arms, your eyes wandering back to Jake and Sunghoon, watching as they competitively danced away, “Yeah, boys will be boys, I guess.”

Jay follows your gaze over to them, chuckling at them, “Are they always like this?”

That…was a good question. You and Jake didn’t hang out with Sunghoon very often. Even before you found out about Jake’s Ghost Face persona you didn’t see a lot of Sunghoon. Nothing was different now.

So you just kind of shrugged, “When I see the two of them together, yeah.”

Jay was looking at you again, eyebrows raised, “When you see them both?” you nodded, “Oh, well figured you would since you’re dating Sim.”

“Actually,” you sigh, once again being reminded how he’s not yours, “We aren’t…dating.”

Jay was now even more confused, “Doesn’t he live with you?”

You thinned your lips and gave another shrug, “It’s complicated.” Complicated because I’m housing a serial killer who has yet to slap a label on what we even are.

“So you’re single then?” you nod again, “In that case.” Jay leaned closer to you, his face a few inches away from yours and his arm resting behind you against the gaming machine, “Would you like to go out with me sometime? If I am being honest, I’ve always found you super cute.” Jay couldn’t help but let his eyes wander down your body, stopping at the ruffles of your skirt, loving how the cute flowered laced ends looked against your pushed thighs, “I would pay and everything, be my treat.”

The dance ended with Jake and Sunghoon practically coming to a tie, Jake only by three points ahead of him.

“Fuck…” Jake pants, “You…” he said with another pant and once again giving his best friend his middle finger, “Beat your ass.”

Sunghoon shoved his friend's hand out of his face, rolling his eyes, “By three points!”

Jake just smiles, happy with his win, “YN did you see…” Jake barely turned around to speak with you to see you still by the last game they played and Jay in your personal space. His blood boiled and his fists clenched, “Why is Park in my girl's space?”

Sunghoon took a deep breath, still tired from the intense dance battle, and turned, seeing the same thing Jake was, “Maybe he's just being friendly?”

Friendly? HA. Right. That look on Jay’s face was anything but friendly. Jay was looking at you the way he does, “Friendly my ass,” Jake hissed, “I don’t like it.”

Sunghoon sighed, “Well, maybe if you made it official between the two of you, he wouldn’t be in her space.”

Make it official? Wasn’t Jake living under your roof, sleeping in your bed, fucking you so good every single night not proof enough that you two were exclusive? That you’re his and no one else’s?

Jake’s anger boiled further, seeing how you shook your head at Jay but kept smiling at him. His smile only became bigger. Jake’s nails sank into his palm.

“Damn, dude,” Sunghoon whistled, “Never seen you so jealous before.”

Jealous? Ridiculous.

“Why don’t you go get us a table at that restaurant we planned to hit up after this,” Jake said with a killing calm, “YN and I will meet you there soon.”

Sunghoon agreed, mostly because he wanted no part of whatever it was Jake was about to do. He’s never seen him so jealous over something. Sunghoon definitely didn’t want to be around if a fight broke out. Praying to every god possible that you’re able to keep Jake calm.

Once Sunghoon was out of the arcade, Jake stepped down from the dance game, eyes blazing at seeing Jay trace his fingers down from your shoulder to your wrist.

Jake was on you in an instant, “Hands off my girl,” he growled, shoving Jay away from you and pulling you behind him, his killer instinct coming on full display. Oh man, how badly did Jake want to kill Jay. To slowly sink his knife into his neck and watch the life drain from his eyes and blood stream from the wound.

Jay chuckled, “Your girl?” he smirked, leaning back against the gaming machine, “Didn’t realize she belonged to you.”

This was the first time you were actually scared of Jake. You’ve never seen him so pissed off, so protective. His grip on your wrist was growing tighter the longer he pierced daggers at Jay.

“I came in her this morning, making her mine,” Jake smirked, the fire in his eyes not relenting.

“Are you a dog?” Jay scrunched his nose and raised a brow, “Marking your territory or some shit?”

“Fucked her in doggy, so yeah.”

“Jesus fucking christ.” Jay stood up straight, taking a few steps back, “What the fuck man.”

“Woof.”

“Jake!” you slapped his arm, trying to yank your wrist free, your cheeks flushed from him exposing your morning deeds, “Stop, let’s just go!”

You tried to pull Jake now, only for him to yank you back closer to him, you tripping over your feet and landing against his back, “What’s wrong baby? Am I embarrassing you?” he coos, “Were you so bored of me that you had to slut around and flirt with someone who wasn’t me?”

“Hey!” Jay barked, “Don’t talk to her like that!”

“Or what?” Jake said with a chilling calm, taking a few steps closer to Jay, being inches apart from his face, “Don’t fuck with me.”

“Get out,” Jay scoffed, “Before I kick you out.”

Jake raised a brow, “Yeah?”

“Yeah, asshat, my family owns this arcade. I work here, get the fuck out.”

Jake smirks, walking backward and sliding his arm over your shoulder, “Nah, we got some coins left to use.”

The last thing Jay wanted to do was call the police and have to explain to his family it was all over a girl. So he watched Jake cling to you as he turned you both around, placing a kiss on your temple, keeping eye contact with him the entire time. Jay didn’t know Jake well, but the man he was seeing right now, scared the shit out of him. Like he could kill him in a heartbeat. So Jay left it alone, walking over to the front counter and sitting down on the stool, keeping an eye on you to make sure you were okay.

Jake dropped himself in front of another fighting game, pulling you into his lap, lips on your ear, “You better fucking talk me out of this one,” he growled, “because if you don’t I’m returning here later tonight, and fucking killing him and stringing his body from the ceiling for his family to find tomorrow morning.”

Your heart sank, eyes looking over to Jay and seeing his eyes staring back at you, “Jake please,” you whispered.

“Please what?” he whispered back, both his hands rubbing at your thighs, “You were so flirty with him and now you’re begging me to not kill him?”

You hated how his voice in your ear was making you wet. How his hands squeezing your bare thighs was sending chills up your spine. Jake knew it was turning you on, he wasn’t stupid. He knew your body and how it works and how to work it, he was using this to his advantage.

You leaned back into him, slightly turning your face so you could see him in your peripherals, “Jake, you know I only want you.” And it was true. You wanted only Jake. You loved him. Yeah, you got kinda flirty with Jay, but it wasn’t going anywhere, you kept turning down his advances and he wasn’t taking no for an answer, but that doesn’t mean Jake needs to kill him. You had to play Jake’s game and be in control, “Only you.”

Jake chuckles, sliding his hands to your inner thighs and spreading your legs, exposing your red panties to Jay. Jake took a quick glance at him, seeing his face turn red and his eyes widen. Jake didn’t just chuckle because of what you said, he was chuckling at you. He found it so cute that you think you’re the one in control, “I love watching you think you’re controlling me,” he licks at the shell of your ear, “You can’t play mind games with a serial killer, baby,” Chills went throughout your body as his fingers slid up to your core, “Nice try though.”

“Jake,” you gasped, clenching your fingers to the stool, his knuckle rubbing against your folds, “I truly only want you, I don’t want him.”

Ahh your words were music to his ears. Your voice so full of truth, and your cunt so wet for him. Only him, “Here’s what’s going to happen,” he whispers, “You’re going to pull the last few coins from my pocket and play this game here, got it?” You nod, slipping a hand into his jeans pocket and taking out the golden arcade coins, “Don’t put them in yet,” he licks another stripe up your ear, his thumb looping into your panties.

“What are you do—Jake!” you softly moaned his name, feeling the cool air hit your exposed cunt as he split your pussy lips open with his index and ring finger, the middle sliding up and down from your fuck hole to your clit and back down, “Jake, we’re in public,” you finally managed to say, eyes rushing back to Jay, seeing him dead staring.

“And?” he laughs, sliding his middle finger into your cunt, “We’re going to give him a show.”

You knew Jake was insane, knew something like this was nothing compared to the things he’s done, yet it still surprised you nevertheless that he had your legs spread and pussy out for another man to see.

Jake kept a firm grip on your thigh as his finger slowly pumped in and out of you, his eyes piercing at Jay. Jake kept eye contact as he flattened his tongue against the end of your neck and licked up and up until he reached just below your jaw, planting an open-mouthed kiss on that sweet spot. Jake loved how agitated Jay was getting. How he tried so hard to look away from the two of you but couldn’t. It was a mind game, one Jake was going to win.

But GOD you felt so good against his finger, so good he slipped his index and ring fingers in along with the middle, stretching your pussy. You moaned out, it being loud enough Jay was able to hear it from across the arcade, the tips of his ears turning red.

You clenched around Jake’s fingers and he hissed, his cock begging to be freed from the confinements of his jeans. He didn’t want to want any longer.

Jake lifted you off him, “Put the coins in the machine.” You listened, sliding the golden metal in one by one until the start-up screen loaded, “Now play the game.” You tried to focus on the start of it, but the sounds of Jake’s belt unlatching and zipper being pulled down, made it hard.

He spreads your pussy’s lips again, lining the tip to your entrance, “Slide down on me baby.”

Heat rises to your face cheeks, eyes darting around the arcade, Jay’s eyes being the only ones watching you, the only pair that even noticed what was happening in this corner. You slowly slid down onto Jake, him hissing out a soft “fuck,” when his tip kisses your cervix.

Jake squeezed your hips, thanking whatever little voice in your head that told you to wear a skirt today and making this so much easier on him and it is so fucking hot.

He bucked his hips up, not even giving you time to adjust to his size. You bit down on your lip as you played the game, trying to focus on the fight in front of you. Your palm squeezed the joystick so hard you were afraid you’d break it.

Fuck you felt so good wrapped around him. And it felt so good to fuck you in front of Jay, relishing in the look spread across Jay’s face and how tightly his jaw was locked. Jake just smirked, fucking into you harder and faster.

You couldn’t keep control of the game, eventually giving up and gripping onto the sides of the machine, trying with everything you had to not scream out in pleasure. Jake took this as an opportunity, him grabbing you by your neck and pushing you against his chest, his knees lifting up and spreading your legs further apart.

“You don’t know how badly I want to kill him,” he whispers in your ear, being so out of breath, “I can’t fucking stand how he was looking at you, looking at what’s mine,” The anger returned, the jealously. Fuck he was jealous. That was a first for him, “I want to kill him for looking at my girlfriend.”

Girlfriend. He called you his girlfriend. You clenched around him after hearing that, the pleasure washing over you tenfold at having that label.

“Hmmm fuck baby,” he groans, “keep clenching me like that and I’m going to spill into you.” You clenched again, not purposely, it just felt so fucking good to be fucked by your boyfriend, it felt good knowing he was jealous of another man to the point of wanting to kill for you. And maybe that made you just as crazy as him.

“Jake,” you softly moaned, forcing yourself to keep quiet.

Jake kisses your temple, “Moan my name louder, honey. Let our friend Jay over there know who you belong to, who is the only one that can make this pussy wet.” He bucked his hips harder, his skin slapping against your ass.

You moaned his name louder, making eye contact with Jay again.

“Fuck yes,” Jake smirks, “You’re so good for me.”

You clenched around him again, your climax fast approaching. Jake moans at how your walls hugged him, his arms wrapping around your body and holding you tightly to him as he fucked into you harder, fixing to burst, “Cum with me baby, oh fuck please cum with me.”

With his wishes, you both came together, him continuing to buck his hips slowly, mixing your cum together.

Jake leaned back against the wall, still holding you to his chest, smirking at Jay as he catches his breath, watching how his eyes go from your face and travel down to your cunt, watching the mixture of your and Jake’s cum leak from your hole.

You took deep breaths in, grabbing your skirt and pulling it down as far as you could, “Jae,”

Jake kissed your cheek, “Let’s go and meet up with Hoon now, ya?”

You nod, pulling him out and readjusting your panties and skirt as Jake fixes his jeans and then leaves the arcade with Jake’s chilling laughter echoing within the walls.

—

You sat at the edge of the bed, watching Jake sharpen his knife. He sat in the chair he usually kept his duffle bag and mask on, fully clothed in his Ghost Face attire, the mask resting at the top of his head. His brows furrowed in concentration, lifting the knife in front of his face and smirking at his work.

You wanted to ask him who he was planning on killing tonight, if it was someone you knew or a random person off the street. But you didn’t know if you actually wanted the answers to those questions, not knowing if Jake would even give you those answers. He glances at you then goes back to sharpening, “What are you thinking about?”

Shit. He caught you. You tried to find anything—literally anything—to come up with in a bullshit way to answer his question, your eyes falling onto the mask, “Why that mask specificity?” It was a real genuine question, you’ve always wondered it ever since the murders first started happening.

Jake smiles at you, “Why not this one?” he tosses the sharpening tool into his duffle, reaching up and sliding the mask down onto his face, “It’s scary, isn’t it?” You nodded but also shrugged. You weren’t scared of Jake, so seeing him fully in this outfit wasn’t affecting you. You couldn’t see, but he was grinning ear to ear underneath the mask, “It’s better with the voice mod,” he chuckles, flipping the switch on the voice changer, “It makes all the difference, doesn’t it, honey?”

Chills went down your back and you pressed your knees to your chest. The look on your face told Jake everything. He was right, it made a difference. If you didn’t know it was him beneath the mask you’d be terrified. His Aussie accent was no longer present and you couldn’t even tell it was his voice. No wonder his victims were always so scared.

Jake tilts his head at you, honestly getting hard at how scared you look. That look, that pretty and scared look on your face was what he wanted that night he tried to kill you. Oh, how time has passed since then. But he didn’t have time to reminisce about the past, he was running late for a killing date.

He stood from the chair, “You’re leaving already?”

Jake slides his gloves onto his hands, “Yes. I’ll be back soon.” You wouldn’t be able to get used to that ghost face voice.

You wanted him to stay home. It was the weekend and he BARELY spent the weekends with you. If he wasn’t off committing crimes, he was at soccer practice or with Sunghoon, or sticking himself in a study room at the library on campus to study. So you acted fast, not just in a way to stop him from ending someone else’s life, but to beg him to stay home.

“Jae,” you called his name, stepping in front of him, “Why don’t you stay home?”

He chuckles, adjusting the gloves and then flexing his fingers, “I have to go.” Jake was fucking crazy, he knew he was. He loved the thrill of the kill, the screams and blood and smells. It was intoxicating, almost like a drug.

Jake goes to step around you, but you keep blocking his path, “Stay home with me.”

He was getting irritated, “Move, honey, I am asking nicely.”

You shook your head, “Spend the weekend with me.”

Jake takes your chin between his fingers and pulls your face to the mask, “I won’t ask again, be a good girl and listen to me.”

You noticed he gripped the knife in his hand and could only imagine how pissed he must look underneath the mask. But you were desperate, wanting to find some way to keep him home, and what better way than to use your womanly charm? You pressed your breasts against his chest, knowing he could feel how braless you were under his favorite rock band tee shirt, “Please Jakey.”

He almost caved—almost—he slid his fingers from your chin down to your upper arm, ready to brush you out of his path, but your desperateness only pushed forward. You reached for the knife in the hope if you took it from him things would go your way and he’d stay home.

But you forgot for a solid second who it was you were dealing with.

You were now facing away from him, your back to his chest and knife pressed against your neck. Your eyes widened as you looked into the mirror in front of you. Seeing how his gloved hand pressed tightly to your stomach, how his head rested to the side of yours and his knife pressed to your throat. You swallowed, rubbing your thighs together.

“Ahh, it’s a sight to see isn’t it, honey? This is what you looked like the first time I held my knife to your pretty neck.” Jake was hard looking at you in the mirror with him pressed to you. It was one thing seeing you beneath him, but to see it in reflection? While he’s in his attire with the love of his life in front of him? It was even better than before.

“Is this what all your victims look like?” you whispered, placing your hands on his forearms, tilting your head back onto his shoulder, exposing more of your neck, “How it goes before you cut their throats open?”

Jake hums, “Yes, but seeing them like this never got me hard, not as you do.” He rubbed his clothed cock against your ass, “Fuck you get me so hard. I love the way my knife looks against your skin.”

You backed your ass against him, grinding on his cock, “Use it on me then.” what the fuck are you saying?

“Fuck don’t say things like that baby,” he tightened his grip on you, “Don’t say things like that to me.”

Jake would enjoy using his weapon on you, to cut you open and see how pretty you looked covered in blood, god it made his cock twitch. But he couldn’t do it, not at the risk of accidentally killing you. He loves you and can’t live without you. The risk wasn’t worth it.

You continued to rub against him, “Stay home with me.”

Fuck it.

He pushes you forward, forcing you to reach your hands out to lay flat against the mirror, your nose brushing against the cool glass, “You want me to stay home?” the voice mod hissed, his hand leaving your waist to pull the mask from his face, his eyes full of lust as they stared at you through the mirror. He tossed the mask to the bed, pressing his lips to your ear, “Want to be dicked down that badly?” you nod, the knife getting pressed tighter to your throat, “Use your fucking words.”

“Yes,” it came out in a loud moan, “I want you to stay home, to fuck me this whole weekend.”

“Hmmm,” he hummed, pulling you off the mirror and back against his chest, “Let’s rid you of your clothes, yeah?”

Jake traced the tip of the knife down your throat and to the edge of his favorite band shirt, not giving a single damn that he cut into the fabric, slicing a line down to the middle, then using his hands to tear it apart, revealing your bare upper half, sliding the torn shirt to the floor.

The leather of his glove tickled when he placed his hand back to your waist, tracing the knife from your belly button up, moving it underneath your breasts, and circling them, slowly and carefully grazing your nipples. It made your core clench and the hair on your skin rise. Oh how badly he wanted to cut your skin, even if just a tiny bit, just to scratch that itch he’s been craving since day one. Deciding he was just going to do it.

But he was going to fuck you first.

Jake didn’t waste any more time and pulled your shorts and panties off your body and pressed you back against the mirror, ridding himself of his suit and other clothing, leaving you both bare, skin-to-skin.

Jake kicked your legs apart, a string of your slick connected both ends of your thighs, showing off how wet you already were for him. Jake licked his lips, scooping up your juices with two fingers and placing them into his mouth, wrapping his tongue around his digits. His body shuddered at your taste, cock twitching, needing to feel you.

He lifted your hips up, and slid inside you with ease, not being able to wait, and fucked into you. Pressing his hand down on your lower belly, feeling his thick length push in and out of your cunt, “Oh, fuck,” he moans, throwing his head back and fucking his hips harder. He was more sensitive right now, not knowing why or even really caring why. He doesn’t even care if he cums first, because he’s going to spend this entire night fucking you. Making you cum over and over and making him cum over and over. He’s going to spend the whole weekend with his cock buried inside you. Who gives a fuck about the people he could be killing when he can be balls deep in your pussy.

He pressed his hand against you harder, feeling more of himself move against your walls and squeezing tighter around him, “Baby, I’m gonna cum soon,” he flings his head forward, leaning it against yours as he looked at you in the mirror, seeing your fucked out expression, pupils blown out and mouth open and moaning out with each thrust he gave you, his knife sitting pretty against your neck, “Fuckkkkkk,” he moans, “I can’t hold it in.”

One final thrust and his cum painted your gummy walls white. Jake kissed your cheek, gently sliding the knife from your throat, down your shoulder, and stopping halfway on your upper arm. His hooded eyes lock with yours, asking for permission, but before you can even give it to him, he presses the metal into your skin, the crimson liquid slowly oozing from your body.

Jake bit his lips, slowly pulling his cock out to the tip, and ramming it back inside you, already ready for round two.

You were moaning louder this time, chanting out his name as your fingers gripped the mirror, feeling your blood streaming down your arm and onto the floor.

“Goddamn,” he hissed, cutting another wound below the first one, not being able to control himself, “You look so pretty bleeding out for me.”

Your brain went dizzy and you weren’t sure if it was from the loss of blood or from how good Jake was fucking you. It was probably both.

You released one hand from the mirror and cupped it to your arm, trying to stop what you could from it staining the carpet. But Jake’s thrusts were unrelenting, working faster than before and hitting your g-spot. The knot threatened to snap and it made you dizzier, almost losing your balance, forcing you to place your now bloody hand on the glass, leaving bloodied handprints.

“Jae,” you moaned his name, “Fixing to cum.”

Jake bit your ear softly, “Cum for me, honey.”

The pleasure of your release formed goosebumps on your skin, mixing with Jake’s previous cum.

You don’t know what came over you in the second, but you felt powerful. You had your boyfriend a cumming mess within minutes of him being inside you. You got him to stay home, to be with you. You were in control right now. You’ve taken over in the mind games.

You pushed yourself off from the mirror, forcing Jake out of your hole and stumbling back. You were quick to whip around, your hands finding home on his chest and pushing him to the bed, forcing him to sit on the edge as you climbed into his lap, sliding your cunt back down onto him.

Jake was in heaven, feeling pure bliss as how quickly you dominated over him. He was a turn on, for sure, but he wouldn’t let you catch him off guard like that again, accepting your win.

Jake was even more surprised to feel your bloodied hand gripping his jaw and his knife in your other hand being pressed to his throat. How did you get it out of his hand? And when did you do it?

You smirked down at him, “What’s wrong Jaeyun?”

Oh, FUCK.

Jake’s hands found their home on your waist, pulling at you to start moving, “Ride my cock and maybe I’ll tell you.”

You leaned closer to him, pressing the knife closer like how he’s done to you. His cock twitched, begging to be ridden. You click your tongue, “Does it turn on the killer to see his girlfriend turn his weapon against him? To have you like fucking putty in my hands?”

He didn’t understand how this happened, but god was he relishing in it.

Jake could easily turn the tides. Could flip you over and take the knife back and fuck you senseless. But he was enjoying this too much, letting you think you still had full control.

“Baby,” he whispered, lifting up and placing a kiss on your lips, “Please ride my cock, I need to feel you.”

You honestly loved seeing your little killer beg for your sex, it was a power move and boosted your ego. You rocked your hips, taking the point of the knife and pressing it up to the bottom of his chin. This was exciting, no wonder he enjoyed knife play with you.

But alas, your power move eventually faded as you lost yourself on his cock, the knife was now tossed somewhere in the room. One of his arms was wrapped around your waist, and the other behind him to keep balance as he fucked his hips up into you at the same motion of you fucking on him. Your bloody hand prints now covered him: his face, shoulder, neck, chest, all over his back and bicep. Everywhere. The wounds on your arm finally clotted and crusted over, no longer spilling.

You came again and then Jake a few seconds after you. But he wasn’t done with you yet, picking you up in his strong arms and carrying you further onto the bed, laying your head on the pillows and placing your legs over his shoulders, “I love you.”

You cupped his face, “I love you too.”

Jake was true to his word when he swore he’d fuck you until you both came over and over and over again until the overstimulation was too much, cumming once more, then falling asleep in each other's arms.

You woke up that next morning with bandages on your arm and in fresh clean clothes. The bedsheets were stripped from the bed and a blanket was covering you. The blood from the mirror was now gone, and Jake was on the floor at the end of the bed doing what it looked like scrubbing your strained blood out of the carpet. You smiled, quickly closing your eyes and falling back to sleep, never in your life have you felt so safe in the presence of a serial killer.

—

You winced in pain as you dropped yourself onto the couch, your legs completely sore.

Jake chuckles from the kitchen as he prepares lunch for you both, “You okay in there, my love?” You peek over the couch, glaring at him, “Don’t look at me like that,” he says sweetly, “You’re the one who wanted me to fuck you until you couldn’t walk the entire weekend.”

Jake stayed true to absolutely destroying your cunt the entire weekend. Man has some STAMINA, that’s for sure. Any chance he got, he was balls deep inside you. You just tried to enjoy a nice warm shower, was halfway through when Jake pulls the curtains back and stepped in, immediately pinning you against the wall and fucking you until you couldn’t stand. You couldn’t complain though, you got him the entire weekend to yourself.

The only thing that sucked was going back to classes tomorrow, meaning you’d have to share him again with everyone.

“I didn’t think you’d actually make it where I could barely walk.”

Jake just smiles, “What can I say, I love my girl weak in the knees for me.”

You made a fake laugh at his joke but still smiled brightly. You reached for the remote and turned the TV on, flipping through channels until a quick scene of the news was on, catching your attention and forcing you to go back.

“Yesterday evening, two bodies were found near a dumpster on the south side of the campus—“

“Jake,” you called for him, “Come in here.”

Jake stood behind you, leaning his body against the back of the couch, “What’s up?”

You point to the TV, “The two bodies have been identified as a young couple, we were last seen walking the campus, heading to the dorms—“The camera pans to the crime scene, their dead bodies being covered up by white tarps and police and investigators surrounding the area, one of the policemen pulling something out of the dumpster, your breath hitched “—a ghost face mask has been found at the scene of the crime—“

You whip around to look at Jake, “What the fuck Jake?!” but as soon as you yelled at him, you realized the look on his face.

He was livid.

“I’ve been with you the entire fucking weekend,” he snapped, “I didn’t do this.”

You faced back to the TV, watching the rest of the news coverage, “If it wasn’t you, then who did it?”

Jake pushed himself from the couch, ruffling his hands in his hair, pacing back and forth, “I don’t fucking know, but whoever they are, they are a fucking imposter!”

Jake was angry for more than one reason:

1: Whoever the fuck this person is, they fucked up so hard by leaving their mask at the scene. 2: They were trying to impersonate him. 3: WHY THE FUCK ARE THEY IMPERSONATING HIM?!

You stared at the TV screen, trying to process everything. Jake noticed it, how quiet you were, getting scared you were doubting him. So he rushed to you, kneeling before you and taking your face in his hands, “Honey. I promise you it wasn’t me. I’ve been here with you the whole weekend.”

You nodded. You knew he was here with you. He didn’t leave your side because he was too busy burning his cock in you. It just didn’t make sense. The last Ghost Face killing was about two weeks ago the same night Jake fucked you in the arcade. It was some random guy Jake happened to pass on a late-night walk to clear his head to not go back to the arcade and kill Jay. Jake has been clean since then.

Jake looked back to the TV, gritting his teeth, “I swear to—“ then his phone started ringing. The vibrations made his skin crawl.

He pulled his phone from his pocket, seeing Unknown Caller on the screen.

Jake looked up at you, and it was the first time you saw a small hint of fear in his eyes.

He accepted the call, placing the device to his ear.

“Hello, Jake.”

His eyes widened, hearing the voice changer nod that he uses on the other side of his call, “Who the fuck is this?”

“Hahaha, you don’t seem surprised that I know your secret?”

Jake stood up, quickly glancing around the room, “Why would I be? You’re playing the exact same game I do.”

Whoever this was, they knew Jake’s secret. Studied him. Knows how he kills and even the exact mask brand he wears. If this person was playing Jake’s game, then being in this apartment was no longer safe. Because they were already watching, already listening.

They laughed again, “Did you like the news? I did it special, just for you.”

“Go to hell!” Jake barked.

“Oh, but I’d see you there,” they chuckled, “I very much rather just send you there.”

Jake was tired of these games, “What do you want?” he clenched his fist, “You wanna be the sequel so damn bad don’t you?”

Silence, but then, “What do you think it is I want?”

“To be a shitty ass ghost face, but news flash, you’re already doing that.”

“I’d watch your tone, Jake Sim. It’d be a shame for something to happen to our precious little YN / YLN, wouldn’t it?” Jake’s heart stopped, “Check your texts.”

Jake removed the phone from his ear, clicking on the newly received texts. The first one was a photo of you at the college in the journal room looking over the corkboard. The second text was a video of you from the bedroom, the curtains were slightly drawn back and you were lifting your shirt off your body, revealing yourself in a black laced bra, and then the video cut off. The third and final text that came through, was a photo of both Jake and you on the couch yesterday morning, both naked as you rode his dick.

He pressed the phone back to his ear, “I swear to fucking god if you touch her.”

More laughter, “Maybe you should keep her closer and double check to make sure all windows are closed next time if you don’t want others seeing your…activities.”

Jake pulled you off from the couch, holding you close to him and repeating, “What. The. Fuck. Do. You. Want.”

They clicked their tongue, “You’ll know soon enough. Goodbye, Ghost Face.” Then the line went dead.

Jake tossed his phone across the room, pulling you to his chest tightly, teeth gritting.

“I’m going to fucking kill whoever that is, and I won’t let them hurt you.”

For the first time, you were genuinely scared. And so was Jake. He wasn’t scared of this imposter, he was scared of what they’d do to you.

And he won’t stop at nothing until they are six feet under.

— perm taglist: @alvojake @ikeuverse @woniebae @shawnyle @kangnina @jwnghyuns @in-somnias-world @zyvlxqht @aaa-sia @wonniethepoo @addictedtohobi @eneiyri @sparklovespink @skzenhalove @fakeuwus @cherry-park @vousty @ladyartemesia @psh9 @cmoundiamante @enhaverse713586 @wondipity @lhsvibez

#jake bby #jake sim #sim jake #jaeyun sim #sim jake x reader #reader x sim jake #sim jaeyun x reader #sim jake smut #enhypen #enhypen x reader #reader x enhypen #enhypen fanfic #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen smut #yeonzzzn writing #ghostface!jake #ghostface au

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maxtermind · 8 months ago

Note

absolutely loved ‘baby, would i still be your lover’, everyone single one got me in my feels! i was wondering would you consider doing a part 2? whether it ends in angst or fluff

I'll tell you the truth, but never goodbye

★ : summary :: when he accidentally insults you during an argument- aftermath ★ : feat :: max verstappen, lewis hamilton, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris ★ : genre :: hurt/comfort, hints of angst ★ : word count :: 4.3k ★ : a/n :: thank you so much for the love on part 1 💓 some of these have open ending so you can pick whether you'd like to forgive them or not as a reader!! feedback is appreciated :)

( part 1 )

Max Verstappen

You sighed as you sat down to have your morning tea as usual, trying to pretend that nothing was wrong. As if you hadn't spent all night long getting your phone spammed with calls that you were ignoring.

After mindlessly roaming around for a bit, you eventually decided to crash at your best friend’s place. You lazily waved at her as she frantically got ready to leave for work. However, you were on your tiptoe as soon as the door opened.

A body that was possibly sleeping while leaning against the door fell inside and you heard curses that you were quite too familiar with. Your heart clenched at the sight of your boyfriend - or perhaps now, your ex-boyfriend - on his knees, nursing the wound on his head. The ache of seeing him in pain reignited the anguish you thought you had left behind.

“Okay,” you heard your friend murmur. “I'm gonna let you guys get to it.” She was out the door a second later.

You looked at the closed door instead of the man who was desperately trying to make eye contact with you.

“How long have you…” You trailed off before deciding that you didn't want to know.

“As soon as you turned your phone off, Y/N! I've been here since last night.” "Why?" you choked out, the words barely escaping your lips as tears threatened to overflow. His brows furrowed before he ran his hands over his face and got up to sit right next to you. You saw his hand itching toward yours and instinctively pulled it towards your body. "Because I needed to see you in person, to talk." He took another deep breath and you later realized that he was trying to stop himself from crying. “I realize I messed up, baby. I.. I never should have let you walk out.” But his attempt to mend the shattered pieces of your relationship only served to reopen the wounds, your walls instinctively rising in defense,"Talk? You think a talk is going to fix everything?" Max's eyes were filled with a mix of regret and desperation as he reached out for your hand, his fingers trembling slightly. "No, I don't think a talk will magically fix everything," he admitted, his voice raw with emotion.

"But it's a start. I need you to know that I'm truly sorry for what happened. I hate myself for hurting you, for making you doubt how much you mean to me."

You couldn't bring yourself to meet his gaze, the pain of the previous night still too fresh in your mind.

“How can I trust you again, Max? How can I be sure that this won't happen again?" Your voice was barely a whisper, filled with the ache of betrayal.

Max's grip on your hand tightened, his eyes pleading for understanding. "I know I've messed up, Y/N. But I'm willing to do whatever it takes to earn back your trust. I'll work on my temper, I’ll be better to you, I'll do anything you ask of me. I just need you to give me another chance." “You know you’ve always been the best to me, right? I just can’t believe that instead of talking it out yesterday, you straight up skipped to breaking up wit-” Fresh tears started falling down your cheeks. Max immediately leaned forward to hold you in his arms and you let him because you needed him. But how could you trust him again? How could you be sure that history wouldn't repeat itself? That he won’t throw away your whole relationship just because the anger got a hold of him? As Max held you close, you felt a wave of conflicting emotions wash over you. Part of you wanted to push him away, to scream and shout at him for causing you so much pain. But another part of you craved his warmth, his touch, his presence.

"I'm sorry, Y/N," Max whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I know I messed up, and I hate myself for it. I never meant to hurt you, I swear."

You buried your face in his chest, the tears soaking through his shirt as you struggled to make sense of your feelings.

“I just don't know if I can do this anymore, Max," you admitted, your voice muffled against him. Max tightened his embrace, his arms wrapping around you protectively. "I understand," he murmured, his voice gentle. His admission eased your thumping heart a bit, you were glad to have him back. The storm within you finding a momentary calm.

"I made you feel like our relationship was disposable, like breaking up was no big deal. But that couldn't be further from the truth. You're the most important person in my life, baby and the thought of losing you terrifies me. I'll do whatever it takes to make things right between us, to show you just how much you mean to me. I'll do whatever it takes to earn back your trust if you still want me."

Lewis Hamilton

The weight of Lewis's words hung heavy in the air, suffocating you as you retreated into the sanctuary of your bedroom. Tears streamed down your cheeks unchecked, your heart aching with a pain you couldn't quite comprehend. How had a day that started with such a promise turned into this? You buried your face in your hands, the sting of Lewis's words feeling like acid running through your veins.

Outside the door, the silence was deafening, broken only by the muffled sound of your sobs. Lewis stood frozen in place, his mind racing as he replayed the exchange in his head.

He couldn't believe the words that had escaped his lips, couldn't fathom how he had allowed his frustration to morph into such hurtful remarks.

Minutes stretched into eternity as Lewis grappled with the weight of his actions, the gravity of his words settling like a lead weight in his chest.

He wanted to reach out to you, to apologize and make things right, but his feet remained rooted to the spot, paralyzed by the magnitude of his mistake.

Inside the bedroom, you were consumed by a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. Anger, hurt, betrayal - they all swirled together into an ugly monster, threatening to engulf you whole.

How could the man you loved, the man who had always been your rock, turn on you with such venom?

But beneath the anger and hurt, there was a flicker of doubt, a gnawing fear that maybe Lewis's words held a grain of truth. Maybe you were too insecure, too needy, too demanding. Maybe you were asking for too much, expecting him to be there for you when he had his own priorities and responsibilities. Maybe-

The sound of a soft knock on the door snapped you out of your thoughts, and you looked up to see Lewis standing there, his expression wrought with regret and guilt. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the weight of the unspoken apology hanging heavy in the air. Looking at him distraught made your chest feel worse. How could he make you feel ten fold worse than this and not feel a thing?

"I'm sorry," Lewis finally whispered, his voice barely audible. "I didn't mean what I said. I was out of line, and I know I hurt you. Please, let me make it right." He rushed through the words.

His words pierced through the haze of your pain, and you felt a bit of heaviness leaving your body. He crossed the room in a few strides, dropping to his knees in front of you, his eyes pleading for forgiveness.

"I don't know what came over me," he admitted, his voice thick with emotion before your boyfriend took your hand away from your face and kissed your cheeks. "I was so caught up in my own frustrations that I lashed out at you, and I hate myself for it. You don't deserve to be treated that way, especially not by me."

You studied his face, searching for any sign of insincerity, but all you saw was genuine remorse and regret. And despite the pain still raw in your chest, you couldn't deny the love you felt for him, the longing to mend what had been broken between you. “You hurt me,” you whispered but didn’t push him away as he laid down with you, holding you close to his chest. Some of your resolve wavering when you felt his fast heartbeat. “I wanted you there so much.” He nodded as he shushed you, his own eyes dropping tears. “I’m so so sorry, baby. I can't even begin to express how deeply I regret the way I acted the whole day, I know you deserve so much more but-” You shifted slightly, knowing all that you wanted right now was comfort, you didn't want to forgive him or minimize the weight of his actions. "I don't know if I can right now," you replied, your voice trembling with the weight of your emotions.

Lewis's eyes brimmed with tears as he whispered, "Please don't shut me out. I can't bear the thought of losing you."

You felt a pang of guilt at the pain evident in his voice. "I just need some time to process everything," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

"I understand," Lewis replied, his tone filled with sorrow. "But please know that I'm here whenever you're ready to talk."

You nodded, silently acknowledging his words as you allowed yourself to be enveloped in his comforting embrace.

"I promise to make it up to you," Lewis vowed earnestly, his voice laced with determination. "I'll do whatever it takes to earn back your trust."

"I want to believe you," you admitted quietly, your heart heavy with uncertainty. Everything was a little too raw right now and your emotions were all over the place.

"I'll spend every moment proving it to you," Lewis declared, his eyes locking with yours in a silent vow.

“I was thoughtless and cruel today, and I never should have let those words leave my lips. You are not insecure, you are strong and resilient, baby. You deserve so much better than the hurtful words I spoke. Please know that I can’t lose you, Y/N. I will work tirelessly to regain your trust and rebuild what I have so carelessly shattered. You mean the world to me, and I will spend every moment striving to be worthy of your love.”

Carlos Sainz

As you sat nervously in your childhood home, the familiar sights and sounds providing little comfort, your mind raced with thoughts of disappointment and hurt.

For the third time, Carlos had failed to join you in meeting your parents, leaving you to face their questioning looks and unspoken concerns alone. You had rehearsed what you would say to them, how you would explain his absence, but each time, the words caught in your throat, choked by a mixture of frustration and sadness. For the past few days since you walked out of your apartment, you had been ignoring Carlos’ attempts to reconcile with you. The calls and texts he spammed you with were ignored and curses left your mouth as soon as your mind went back to the day of the argument, bringing unwanted tears to your eyes.

In the passing, you saw a Ferrari conference being conducted and as much as you wanted to reach out and talk it out with him, your heart did flips that you were sure you should have visited a doctor for.

Your parents, ever perceptive, noticed your unease as you fidgeted with the napkin in your lap, casting worried glances in your direction. You tried to muster a reassuring smile, but it faltered, betraying the turmoil within you.

How could you explain to them that the man you loved couldn't find the time to meet them, despite his promises and assurances? "What's wrong, sweetie?" your mom asked, concern evident in her voice.

You sighed, hesitating for a moment before replying, "It's Carlos... He like…"

Your dad's brow furrowed. "Is everything okay?"

You tried to muster a reassuring smile. "Yeah, he said that he got caught up with work. You know how busy he is with his racing and all..." Your dad’s brows furrowed when you trailed off, about to ask you what exactly you meant but just as you were steeling yourself to broach the subject, the doorbell rang, startling you from your thoughts.

Your heart sank as you realized it was likely a neighbor stopping by to meet you since you don’t visit that often, you stood up to go greet them. But then, to your disbelief, you heard his voice drifting through the door, before you saw your boyfriend standing right behind it. Your head titled in confusion and you drew a breath that took most of the stress from the previous days away from your body.

"Sorry I'm late," he said, his tone apologetic yet determined. Carlos took your hand and kissed it lightly,"Traffic was a nightmare." “What about the conference that you-” “You’re the most important person in my life, Y/N.” He cut you off before pulling you in and walking to the dining room that was in his vision. As if that was the answer to your question.

You turned to face him, your eyes wide with surprise and a flicker of hope. There he was, looking slightly disheveled but undeniably earnest, his gaze that locked on yours was as if it was seeking forgiveness. You could see the sincerity in his eyes, the regret etched in the lines of his face.

Your parents exchanged a glance, their expressions softening as they took in the sight of Carlos standing before them.

Despite their reservations about his repeated absences, they couldn't deny the genuine affection that Carlos held in his eyes when he looked at you.

Before you could find the words to respond, Carlos took a step forward, his hand reaching out tentatively. "I'm really sorry, both of you," he said, addressing your parents directly.

"I know how important this is to you, and I should have made more of an effort to be here on time."

His words hung in the air, a silent acknowledgment of his shortcomings and a pledge to do better. You felt a surge of emotion welling up inside you, a mixture of relief, gratitude, and a glimmer of renewed faith in your relationship. "Well, we're just glad you could make it," your dad said, offering Carlos a handshake.

"Thank you for coming, Carlos," your mother said, her voice warm yet cautious. "We understand that life gets busy, but it's important to make time for the people who matter most."

Carlos nodded, his expression earnest as he met her gaze. "I couldn't agree more. Family means putting in effort, I promise to make it up to all of you."

As you sat down to dinner, the atmosphere was tinged with a sense of reconciliation and hope. Your hand still intertwined with his as you saw him charm your family. Despite the rocky start, Carlos's presence brought a newfound sense of unity and understanding to the table. And as you shared stories and laughter, you couldn't help but feel grateful for the opportunity to mend what had seemed irreparably broken.

In that moment, you realized that love wasn't just about grand gestures or sweeping declarations—it was about the everyday moments of connection and compromise, the willingness to forgive and grow together.

And as you looked at Carlos, his eyes filled with determination and affection, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together, hand in hand.

Charles Leclerc

Charles had apologized right after he had said those words and though you had both fallen back into routine, the underlying bitterness and resentment was still present. You weren’t the one initiating any kind of affection from your side and every time Charles was initiating anything, you half assed your way out of it. Was it childish? Probably. But you were still not comfortable with how easily you had forgiven Charles, burying your hurt just to avoid conflict once again despite knowing deep down that he has hurt you probably more than anyone else ever has. These thoughts were running through your head as you sat beside Charles, your heart still heavy with the weight, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease that lingered in the air. Especially because Charles seemed distant, his mind preoccupied with thoughts, that you couldn't help but wonder what exactly they were. Why had he even asked to go on a date today? To break up with you? Suddenly, Pippa appeared, her presence causing the knot to form in your stomach to get tighter. She approached with a confident stride, a charming smile gracing her lips as she greeted Charles with a hug.

"Hey, Charlie!" Pippa exclaimed, her eyes flickering briefly in your direction before returning to Charles. "Long time no see!"

Charles returned her hug, though his embrace seemed somewhat forced. "Hey, Pippa. Yeah, it's been a while."

You observed their interaction closely, your unease growing with each passing moment. Pippa's presence always seemed to unsettle you, and you couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to their friendship than met the eye. Was he gonna break up with you in public and confess his years long feelings for Pippa? Charles glanced at you, his expression softening as he reached for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. "I was just out with Y/N today."

You couldn't help but feel a rush of warmth at his actions, his affectionate gesture soothing some of the tension that had been building between you.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N," Pippa said, offering you a friendly smile. "Sorry I didn’t see you next to Charlie."

You returned her smile, though it didn't quite reach your eyes and managed to reply without gagging. "Nice to meet you, Pippa." Charles tightened his grip on your hand, silently reassuring you of his presence and support. "We were just grabbing a coffee," he explained, his gaze flickering between you and Pippa. "Care to join us?"

Pippa hesitated for a moment, her eyes narrowing slightly as she glanced at you before turning back to Charles. "Actually, I was hoping we could catch up alone, if that's okay."

You felt a pang of anxiety at her words, a sense of foreboding settling in the pit of your stomach. Despite your reservations, you nodded, forcing a smile as you released Charles's hand. It was better to walk away yourself than to have Charles dismiss you.

"Of course," you said, though your voice sounded strained even to your own ears. "I'll wait for you outside."

Charles shot you an alarmed look as you stood up,”I’ll see you in a few.” Charles’ hand lingered on yours for a moment longer before you reluctantly let go and made your way to the door.

You leaned against your car and enjoyed the wind for a second. You couldn’t help but catch a glimpse of the exchange between your boyfriend and his best friend sitting inside.

You were half scared to find them kissing or something but, instead a sense of confusion washed over you as you watched the way Pippa was angrily point a finger at Charles and scream at him.

It was a second later when she stormed out before making her way towards you.

"Is he doing this because of you?!" Pippa's accusatory tone sent a shiver down your spine, her words hitting too close to home.

Before you could even process what was happening, Charles emerged from the cafe, his expression determined as he approached you and Pippa.

"Go home, Pippa," he said firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument as he intertwined his hand with yours.

Pippa's eyes blazed with anger, her fists clenched at her sides as she glared at Charles. "You will regret this, Charles!" she spat before storming off, leaving you both standing there in stunned silence.

Once Pippa was out of sight, you turned to Charles, your heart pounding in your chest. "What was that all about?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

Charles sighed, running a hand through his hair as he looked at you with apologetic eyes. "I'm sorry you had to witness that, Y/N. Pippa has been... difficult lately."

You frowned, your mind reeling with confusion and frustration. "Difficult how?"

Charles hesitated for a moment, his gaze searching yours as if trying to find the right words. "She's been pushing boundaries, trying to come between us. But I won't let her."

"Hey," he continued, taking your hand in his. "I told Pippa that I wouldn't be spending time with her alone anymore. If she can't accept you, then it's better for us to not be friends at all."

You blinked in surprise, a rush of gratitude flooding through you at his words. "Really?"

Charles nodded, squeezing your hand gently. "Really. You're the most important person in my life, and I won't let anyone come between us."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you wrapped your arms around him, holding him close. "Thank you, Charles. I appreciate you standing up for us."

He smiled softly, squeezing your hand reassuringly. "I'll always stand up for us, Y/N. You mean everything to me."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you threw your arms around him, holding him close. Despite the lingering bitterness and resentment, you couldn't deny the overwhelming love you felt for him in that moment.

Lando Norris

As you stepped out of the taxi, the cool night air enveloped you, offering a moment of respite from the whirlwind of emotions that had engulfed you throughout the evening.

Your heart still felt heavy with the weight of Lando's hurtful words, but beneath the pain, a numbness resided- knowing deep down that you might’ve just broken up with your boyfriend.

Before you could take another step, you heard the sound of hurried footsteps approaching from behind. Turning around, you saw Lando rushing towards you, his eyes filled with remorse and his expression wrought with sorrow. Your hand instinctively went to your chest, trying to calm the rapid beating of your heart.

"Y/N, please wait," he called out, his voice pleading as he reached your side, breathless from his haste.

You pulled your face to meet his eyes, uncertainty and wariness etched into your features as you met his gaze. Part of you yearned to turn away, to shield yourself from the pain of his words, but another part couldn't help but hope that maybe, just maybe, he was sincere in his apology.

"Lando," you said softly, your voice tinged with a mixture of hurt and apprehension. You wanted to say more but the damn ball in your throat stopped you doing so.

He took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours as he searched for the right words to express the depth of his regret. "I know I messed up, Y/N. I hurt you, and I can't even begin to tell you how sorry I am for that."

His words washed over you like a soothing balm, offering a sliver of comfort. But still, you couldn't bring yourself to let go of the hurt that lingered in your heart.

"I should have been there for you tonight, supporting you and showing you how much you mean to me," Lando continued, his voice filled with genuine remorse. "Instead, I let my own selfishness and insecurities get in the way, and for that, I am truly sorry."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you listened to him, the sincerity in his voice echoing the ache in your own heart. You were sure you’ll regret letting go of this amazing relationship without at least attempting to work on it.

Despite the pain he had caused you, you couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, there was still a chance to rebuild what had been broken.

"I don't expect you to forgive me right away, Y/N," Lando said softly, his hands shaking and showcasing the intensity of his vulnerability.

"I know I have a lot of work to do to earn back your trust and your love. But please, just give me a chance to make things right. I promise to do whatever it takes to show you how much you mean to me, every single day for the rest of my life."

His words hung in the air, heavy with sincerity and remorse, leaving you torn between the desire to hold onto the pain of the past and the hope for a brighter future. As you gazed into his eyes, searching for any hint of insincerity or deceit, all you found was raw honesty and unwavering devotion.

With a heavy heart and a flicker of hope, you reached out to take his hand, intertwining your fingers with his. "I don't know if I'm ready to forgive you just yet, Lando," you whispered, your voice trembling with uncertainty.

Lando takes a step closer, gently cupping your face in his hands. "I'll spend every moment proving I'm worthy of your love, Y/N. Let me show you how much you mean to me, starting from this moment. I'll do whatever it takes to earn back your trust, even if it means giving you the space you need. Just know that I'm here for you, whenever you're ready."

( writing masterlist \ main masterlist \ drop a request ) ©maxtermind // do not copy, rewrite or translate any of my work on any platforms.

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a-leg-without-fear · 3 months ago

Text

Strange Love

i am so fucking obsessed with this man it ain't even FUNNY. oh btw here's some filth

Ship: Logan Howlett x Mutant!Fem!Reader 🩸

Rating: 18+ (i need jesus)

Wordcount: 4.5k

Warnings: smut, foreplay, mentions of PTSD, bloodplay, PnV sex, oral (fem!receiving), fingering, logan's teeth, choking, knifeplay, slight voyeurism if you squint seriously this is so dirty i NEED jesus

Song: Strange Love by Halsey

It wasn’t the tossing and turning that woke you. It wasn’t the occasional movement of his hands, the pushing into your side, the sheets being tugged off your body. You had grown accustomed to the flinches and twitches. Those things were typical when sharing a bed with someone.

It was his breathing. Short, quick, ragged. Like a band of iron was squeezing his chest and restricting his lungs.

Your eyes snapped open and flicked to Logan. He was covered in sweat, beads dripping down his forehead plastered in drenched hair. His teeth were bared, grinding. Sharp canines digging into his bottom lip and splitting the skin before the wounds would seal themselves. Fists clenched in the damp sheets, claws just barely poking out of between his knuckles, fingers squeezing the cotton between them.

Right, a nightmare. He was having a nightmare.

These were a nightly occurrence for him. Logan’s past would dredge itself up in his sleep and torture him for hour upon sleepless hour. Raking his mind through the coals only for him to wake up and not remember a thing.

It was risky to wake him like this. Once, Marie had tried to get him to wake up only for Logan’s adamantium claws to end up pierced in her stomach. She was fine, having briefly absorbed Logan’s healing ability and allowed herself to live.

That wasn’t a risk you could take. You had a minor amount of healing your body was capable of. Smaller cuts and bruises were your specialty. You could manipulate the rate at which blood flowed and carried the necessary chemicals in order to seal wounds and reverse bruising. Foot-long claws stabbed into your abdomen weren’t something you could easily fix.

You cleared your throat, shifting to the side of the bed opposite him, and said, “Logan?”

No response. He continued to breathe heavily, eyes darting back and forth beneath his furrowed brow. You sat up, determined to end this round of nightly torment.

“Logan? Hun, wake up,” you said, louder than the previous attempt. A string of incoherent mumbles escaped between his clenched teeth. You sighed and climbed out of bed. Turning to face him and crossing your arms, you braced yourself and yelled, “Logan!”

His hazel eyes flew open as he jolted up, claws shooting out and chest heaving. Silver light glinted off the six razor sharp claws jutting out of his fists. The sheets bunched around his bare waist, his pillow falling off the bed and onto the floor.

“Logan?” you asked, as quiet and calming as possible. Logan’s gaze shifted to you from darting wildly around the room. As soon as his eyes met yours, the claws retreated back beneath his flushed and clammy skin.

He swallowed with difficulty as his mind registered who you were. You could practically see the gears turning beneath his soaked, dark hair.

“Logan? It’s me,” you said. Logan squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed at his eyelids.

“Shit, I’m sorry, doll. Did I wake you?” he grunted. He leaned back on one arm as he smoothed his hair away from his face. It was hard to prevent your gaze from wandering. A toned, tanned chest peppered in dark chest hair melting into defined abs with a trail of dark hair leading beneath the sheets. It took a lot of willpower to look back at Logan’s face.

“Eh, I’m used to it,” you replied, an easy smile falling across your lips. You kneeled back on the bed and ran a comforting hand along his shoulder. His gaze fell to your hand then met your eyes again.

“It’s not the best thing to get used to,” he said. You could feel the muscles in his shoulder tensing under your palm. A frown stretched across his face, “I shouldn’t be wakin’ you every night.”

“It’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make,” you said softly. You lifted your free hand and smoothed out the wrinkles created by his furrowed eyebrows. Logan smacked your hand away as you laughed.

“Seriously. I could hurt you,” he insisted. To emphasize his point, a single claw extended from his right hand, opposite of the side closest to you. He lifted the metal beside his face and said, “When I sleep, I ain’t in control of these things. I… I can’t lose you.”

You raised your hand, running your fingertips across Logan’s arm, before taking his fist in yours. He allowed the action, keeping the claw extended. You moved his hand closer to your face.

“What’re you doin’?” he asked, tugging his hand out of yours. The silver claw retracted back between his knuckles. You sighed while climbing into his lap, straddling his hips with your thighs. You grabbed the same hand again.

“Do you trust me?” you asked. Logan’s glare searched for some kind of trick or fear hiding behind your amused expression.

“Of course I do,” he replied, albeit a little apprehensive. You placed a chaste kiss to his middle-finger knuckle.

“Then extend your claw, handsome,” you breathed into his skin.

Logan’s shoulders shuddered, his eyes falling closed as a strained breath floated from his lips. The hand you had stroking along his neck shifted to bury its fingers in his hair. His back arched, his bare chest meeting your sleep shirt.

“Vampire-”

“Extend your claw. I’ll prove that you’ll never hurt me,” you whispered. Your lips trailed across his knuckles while your fingers tangled in the soft strands at the base of his neck. A quiet groan bounced around inside Logan’s chest.

Slowly, reluctantly, his middle adamantium claw slid out of his fist. Moonlight danced along the sharp edge and gave the claw an almost ethereal glow. You turned Logan’s hand, inspecting the claw at all angles, enjoying the reflections it projected on the walls.

“Do you trust me?” you said, repeating yourself. You needed absolute clarity before continuing. Logan nodded as another shudder worked its way over his chest. You ran your eyes over his expression. His eyes were closed, tense, his lips parted slightly. The hand you had in his hair rested on his jaw, fingers buried in his short beard, thumb tracing his bottom lip, “Yes or no, Logan.”

“Yes. Yes, doll, I do,” he replied.

With the affirmation you needed, you shifted your focus back to the threatening claw in front of you. You considered it for a moment. The length, the width, the sharp edge. Squaring your shoulders and steeling your nerves, you brought his hand closer to your face as you parted your lips.

You ran the blade along the center of your tongue. The bite of cold metal pierced your flesh and stung as it slid along the muscle. You felt blood pool in your mouth, leaking out of the corners of your lips and down your chin.

Logan’s eyes popped open when the scent of your blood filled his nose. He yanked his fist away as his claw disappeared. Both of his palms clung to the sides of your face. You kept your mouth open, smiling, cradling the pooling blood on your tongue.

“What the shit? The hell’s wrong with you, vampire?” Logan exclaimed. Your smile held steady as his expression grew frantic. You watched Logan’s face closely as you enacted your plan.

Your blood began to float out of your mouth in small beads, tiny planets chasing each other, flying from your tongue and into the air around you, forming a ring circling your head. Once you’d cleared most of the blood, you focused on closing the wound. You felt the flesh knit itself back together inch by inch, wound stitching itself closed. When the last bit of leaking blood had exited your mouth, your tongue fully healed, you closed your smile and let the droplets orbit your head.

“You won’t hurt me, Logan. No more than others have in the past,” you said. Logan’s expression remained unchanged, still eyeing you like you were fucking insane, hands clutched to both sides of your face. You stuck your tongue out again. “See? No harm done.”

“You… You can heal?” he asked. His thumb glided across your face to run along your bottom lip. You let your mouth fall open so he could see the absence of blood. He scoffed, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It’s not nearly as strong as yours. I can heal surface level stuff on anyone, not just me. Blood manipulation and all,” you explained. A fond smile remained settled across your face. You willed the blood floating around you to soar through the air in a stream, like crimson ribbons braiding and weaving into each other, before directing it into an empty glass on the nightstand.

Logan looked like you had told him the wildest theory about the moon landing imaginable. Eyebrows raised to his widow’s peak, nose scrunched, lips parted, eyes wide. It would have been amusing, laughable even, if it wasn’t such a tense moment.

Without warning his mouth was on yours, fingers tangled in your hair, arms shoving your chest against his. His hips rocked up against yours and you felt just how hard this conversation had made him. You gasped into his mouth when he tugged at the base of your neck.

“All this time,” he murmured. One of his hands left your hair and tugged up the hem of your t-shirt. His teeth trailed from your lips, to your jaw, to the soft skin at the crook of your neck, “All this fuckin’ time. I was worried I’d hurt you. That I’d wake up and skewer you like I did Rogue.”

A choked moan escaped your lips when his hand squeezed at your breast. Rough and calloused and almost mean. Logan’s sharp canines nicked the skin above the artery that ran beneath your ear. You whined as blood leaked from the new wound.

“But you? You’re just full of fucking surprises, aren’t you?” he said. He licked a broad swipe across the blood streaming down your throat. You ground down into his cock, the heat between your thighs seeking as much friction as possible. Both of you moaned as the deep liquid coated Logan’s mouth.

“We’ve got-shit, plenty of time to find them all,” you said through a breathless grin. The fingers in your hair tightened and tugged your head back, baring your throat as Logan lapped at your neck, staining it red.

You continued to grind into him while your hands gripped his forearms. Your nails dug into his skin, pinpricks of red sprouting around the crescent shapes. You brought a finger up to your mouth and licked along the tip of the nail. An explosion of copper coated your freshly healed tongue. A taste like none you’d ever had before, like a long-aged wine that’d just been opened.

You needed to have more.

The knife you kept on your nightstand, the pommel a glass ball filled with your blood, swished through the air and landed in your open palm. Your other hand carded through Logan’s hair in an attempt to get his attention.

“Can I cut you?” you breathed. A feral grin spread across Logan’s face. His claw shinked back out of his fist and slashed down your shirt. The cotton separated like butter under a hot knife, your shirt sagging down your shoulders and falling away from your chest. A thin cut was left between your breasts. Like a red clay path between two rolling hills.

“As long as I can cut you,” he replied, tongue tracing the new wound. Your head fell back as you arched into his mouth, doing your best to focus on closing the bite in your neck. Getting the skin to connect was growing more difficult as Logan coated his tongue in red and his half-lidded eyes met yours.

“Fuck, okay, I’ll take that as a yes,” you said through gritted teeth. You shrugged off your destroyed t-shirt as you felt the cut on your neck close. Your left hand tugged at Logan’s hair, bringing his lips back to yours, bare chests colliding.

The air between you grew heated and humid. Teeth clashed, tongues darted into each other’s mouths tasting of copper and sin, claws and nails and blade slicing through skin, fingers pulling on hair. Each wound that closed was replaced with a fresh one, tongue and lips following the lines of leaking blood. If you were normal both of you would be covered in more scars than one could count. But, because you were mutants, the skin sealed as if nothing had ever pierced it. Smooth and soft and absolutely covered in blood.

You felt the room spin as you and Logan flipped. He had one hand on your shoulder, pinning your torso to the bed, while the other wrapped around your throat. His broad, warm hand nearly encompassed your whole neck. The power he held over you stoked the flames in your abdomen to burn away at your sense and reason.

His mouth was back on yours, drinking from you like a dying man. Teeth nipped at your lips, your tongue, your chin. Sharp bites that left the taste of copper in their wake. The hand on your shoulder traveled down your overheated body. Passing over swathes of skin painted red and bruises long since dissipated. His fingertips brushed along the waistband of your shorts and a growl reverberated from his throat.

“You have three seconds to get these off before they’re ripped off,” Logan said, the words echoing in your mind like a prayer in an empty chapel.

You had never stripped yourself so fast in your life. Your fumbling hands slipped beneath your waistband, having to concentrate on both getting naked and Logan’s mouth on yours, and you slipped both your panties and your shorts off in one pull. You kicked them off the bed in record time.

“Mm, that was five seconds. I’ll need to see to that later,” he said, kissing down your jaw between growled words. A shiver rolled across your spine at the way his voice thrummed against your neck. You felt the hand gripping your throat tighten, restricting your breathing, making you gasp. Your hands launched forward, seeking anything to grab in their path, landing on the forearm choking you. Logan nipped your collarbone as he said, “Don’t be surprised to see those shorts in shreds tomorrow.”

He loosened his grip slightly, letting warm air back into your heaving lungs. You felt your pulse rushing in your ears.

“Logan, please,” you whimpered. The heat between your legs was unbearable. Wave after wave of arousal slammed into your trembling body and left you breathless. Your thighs were definitely soaked. You could feel wetness dripping off your skin and onto the sheets below you. Logan bit harder at your lowest rib, making you cry out, “Please! I need you. Please, Logan.”

“I’ve got you, hotstuff. Don’t worry,” he purred. His canines dragged along your stomach, leaving fire in their wake, as he shifted lower on your body. The hand gripping your throat slid down your chest and pinned your hips in place, arm slung across your stomach like a lead pipe. His free hand massaged and groped at your shaking thighs. He looked up at you through his eyelashes, grinning, “So polite, how can I refuse?”

The first pass of his tongue through your cunt made your back bow off the bed. Your hands scrabbled against the soaked sheets, nonsense and cries of ecstasy escaping through your kiss-swollen lips.

A low groan passed through his throat and vibrated against your clit. Your eyes rolled back in your head at the shocks of pure pleasure zipping through your bloodstream.

“Fuck, sugar. All this just for me, huh?” he murmured. You weren’t entirely sure if it was meant for you, but before you could decide he buried his face in your cunt. Tongue spearing inside you, nose bumping against your clit, large fingers holding you open. The air inside your lungs shot out of you like a bullet.

If your mind had any sense left, the sounds you and Logan were making would’ve been obscene. The wet squelching of him licking at your folds, his rough grunts, your breathless moans and airy whimpers. It would’ve made you embarrassed to ever show your face outside of this room again. But with Logan between your thighs and his arm braced across your abdomen, you could hardly care.

He shifted so his lips could wrap around your clit, sucking and running the blunt edge of his teeth over where you’re most sensitive. A startled yelp kicked out of your mouth. Your hands flew to his hair and tangled in the damp strands. You felt his fingers run along your entrance, gathering slick along the calloused pads.

“You want me inside you, doll?” he asked huskily, sounding almost as wrecked as you felt. It took all your willpower to lift your eyelids and meet Logan’s eyes.

“Please. Please, please, I need you Logan,” you slurred. Your grip on his hair tightened in an attempt to emphasize your point.

He latched back onto your clit, eyes still locked with yours, as two fingers pushed inside you. The digits entered you with almost no resistance, you were so soaked. A loud moan fell from your lips as the accompanying noise from your cunt made you feel fucking filthy.

“Fuck, doll,” he grunted against your clit. He started pumping his fingers inside you, slow at first, letting you feel every ridge and knuckle glide in and out, making sure to brush against that spot inside you that made you see stars every time. Your thighs involuntarily clenched around his head. Your head flew back against the mattress beneath you, breath leaving your gaped mouth in quick bursts.

When his pace increased, you knew you wouldn’t last much longer. That coil in your core was tightening at a speed that even Peter couldn’t compete with. Your fingers scraped at Logan’s scalp, breathing seeming to be a thing of the past.

“Come for me, vampire,” he said, slipping a third finger inside you. The claws attached to the arm across your waist extended, piercing into the mattress and securing you further on the bed. If Logan wasn’t who he was, you’d be afraid of hurting him from how tight your thighs were squeezed around his head. But that chrome dome was nowhere near perturbed as he shoved you into your first orgasm of the night.

Sparks of white hot electricity short-circuited your brain and rendered you breathless. Your back seized up and arched off the bed, mouth flying open, breath halted inside frozen lungs. Pulsing, neverending, world-encompassing pleasure covered you like a thick, electrified blanket. Zaps of shityesgood sparked across your skin, burrowing deep into your flesh and filling your veins.

“There ya go, that’s a good girl,” Logan said. You barely registered him, the roaring in your ears was so loud. He continued to finger you through your orgasm, placing the occasional kiss on your hyper-sensitive skin, making you jolt.

It took several minutes for the aftershocks to stop, for the blanket to lift off your body. Logan slid his fingers out of you and brought them to his lips. Low groans brought you back to reality as he licked your slick off his fingers.

His claws retracted as he climbed back up your body, placing sloppy wet kisses as he went. You hummed when his lips found yours. You could taste yourself on his tongue, tangy and salty and distinctly you. Mixed with Logan’s smoke and whiskey, you felt like you could breathe this taste and grow intoxicated. You whined as Logan pulled back.

“Ready for more?” he asked. You nodded, biting your lip as a smile graced your features.

Logan grinned back as he hiked your legs up onto his hips and positioned himself by your entrance, cock hard and heavy in his hand. Your hands laced in his hair and yanked his mouth back to yours. The wet, hot tip of his cock glided through your folds, making both of you groan into each other’s mouths.

The first push inside stretched you almost to the point of pain, but you were so wet and needy you hardly cared. Your breathing grew ragged, panting into Logan’s open mouth, as he slid inside you. Every vein along his cock dragged against your walls, making you whine and cant beneath him.

When he was buried to the hilt inside you, hips connected with your thighs, he braced one hand above you while the other held your leg on his hip. It seemed to take all of his willpower to open his eyes and look down at you.

“Shit, you feel good. Doin’ alright?” he groaned. You nodded a frantic yes, gripping his hair tighter and touching his forehead to yours.

“Logan please fuck me, please, please,” you whispered. You were barely cognizant. Just a body made of an animalistic need. A pure, feral, unadulterated need that only Logan could satisfy.

Logan chuckled, “When you ask like that, doll, how could I say no?”

The slow drag out of you made you grieve the loss of feeling completely full. Your nails dug into Logan’s scalp as whiny moans passed through your clenched teeth. He whispered reassurance into your skin as he pushed back inside, a smooth glide all the way in. He tried to set a slow pace, tried to give you time to adjust. But the pleas spilling from your lips and the grip of your thighs around his hips gave him the last shove he needed.

Quick, wet slaps bounced around the room as he rammed into you, over and over and over again. Pounding into you so hard you swore you could feel him in your throat and that if you weren’t mutant, you would break. High moans met choked grunts in the air between you. The bed’s wooden headboard slammed into the wall behind you in pace with Logan’s thrusts.

And just like that his teeth were on you again. Biting and scraping and marking, drawing blood just for it to disappear under his tongue. Your shoulders, your collarbone, your breasts, your neck. None were left unmarked. And they remained ravaged, your mind too fractured by his relentless fucking to focus on healing yourself.

“Fuck, vampire,” he moaned against your skin. His eyes were glassy, distant. Like his entire mind was devoted to filling you to the brim over and over again. The hand braced above your head grabbed the back of your neck, lifting your head so his lips could crash into yours. You were a mess of teeth and tongues and blood. Mindless, breathless moans swallowed between you.

You could feel that coil again. It tightened tauntingly at each thrust, each pound into you that drove you further into insanity. Flames of pure need licked and burned along your skin, only satisfied when Logan was filling you to the brim. Jesus, if you couldn’t feel every thrust rattle your teeth and send you further into oblivion.

Logan adjusted above you, nearly folding you in half as both his hands landed next to you on the bed. Like this, every thrust hit that spot inside you. Splitting you open to leave nothing but a moaning mess behind.

He groaned above you, teeth gritted, and his claws shot out of his fists. The sound of fabric tearing filled your roaring ears. Deep gauges left in the mattress on either side of your head. Threatening, terrifying even. But to your fuck-drunk mind it only turned you on more. The unquenchable furnace burning in your core flamed into a blazing inferno. Your fingers scraped along his skin, searching mindlessly for something to ground you.

Another groan from Logan, reverberating from deep in his chest, as his forehead touched yours again. A spot of gentleness in the undeniably brutal way he was fucking you.

“I’m-Fuck!-I’m getting real close, doll,” he grunted, his pace never slowing or lessening in its ferocity. He unburied his hand from the bed, retracting his claws, and lowered it between your bodies to rub circles into your swollen clit.

“Ah! Fuck, Logan!” you yelped. You could feel yourself hurtling toward your inescapable second orgasm. Your eyes, unfocused as they were, tried to zero in on Logan above you. You felt like you were caught beneath a launching rocket, being blasted by the flames from the metal beast above you.

One, two, three more thrusts and then you were gone. Ecstasy poured into your veins like ink in water, drowning all you were, all you knew, all you felt. Eyes clouding over with swirling spots of black and white, the inferno in your core overtaking you like a forest fire. All you were was burned away, flames inhaling your body and mind, until all that was left was a mewling, breathless, writhing person that didn’t feel like yourself.

Logan wasn’t too far behind you. The relentless pounding inside you grew ragged, sloppy, his fingers tangling in your hair to let him breathe the same air as you. A sharp groan echoed from his chest as his thrusts stilled, spilling inside you. Hands gripped at the soft flesh on your hips, pinning you against him, prolonging his orgasm.

You felt weightless, like you were floating on the destroyed bed below you and the only thing keeping you grounded was Logan on top of you. Lazy, trembling fingers traced the veins on his forearms, still clutched to your sides. Your hazy vision focused on his face. Blissed out, eyes closed, chest heaving. You felt a lopsided grin stretch across your swollen lips.

“Told you, ya won’t hurt me,” you rasped. You must have screamed at some point, because your throat was scratchy and sore. Not that you minded.

Logan let out a breathless chuckle above you. His fingers massaged soothing circles into your hips as his eyes opened, gaze landing on your post-orgasmic smirk.

He cleared his throat then said, “You sure? I got pretty rough.”

Your eyes fell closed as you used the remaining fragments of your mind to close the wounds across your neck and chest, willing the skin to seal and the bruises to flush away. Once you were satisfied you opened your eyes again.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” you said, grinning. Logan shook his head, matching your grin, as he slid out of you. An involuntary whine slipped up your throat at the loss of him inside you. The loss was quickly remedied by him laying down beside you, wrapping you in his arms and tucking you against his chest. You settled in, nestling your cheek against his damp skin, while he hummed above you.

“I know you can, but I’m not so sure about the sheets.”

Embarrassment flooded your cheeks as you observed the carnage around you. The once (somewhat) pristine, light blue sheets were absolutely covered in blood, loose threads, and other results of what the two of you had just done. Not to mention the holes in the mattress that could no way in hell be fixed.

You let out a sigh as your hand covered your eyes, face flushed. Logan smirked and kissed the top of your head.

“We’ll get ‘em replaced, doll. Don’t worry about it,” he said, amusement at your situation laced in every word.

However, the two of you froze in response to the words that filled your heads, the disappointment palpable and tone icy.

“It’ll come out of your wallets.”

i'd like to thank @madschiavelique and @gracethyomen for encouraging my obsession with logan. much love to them both and the rest of the murdock tuna team 🐟

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#wolverine #logan howlett #hugh jackman #wolverine fanfic #logan howlett fanfic #hugh jackman fanfic #xmen #xmen fanfic #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett smut #wolverine x reader #wolverine smut #this is FILTH please don't judge me #that honda odyssey scene rewrote my brain chemistry #and i am a weak weak leggy

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opheliawhodrowned · 8 days ago

Text

Daughters with Soft Underbellies [Chapter 1]

[Outlaw/Cowboy!John Price x Preachers Daughter!fem!Reader] Masterlist | AO3 | early access | navigation

there's someone new in town

cw: western time setting, archaic punishments/abuse, religious trauma, religious imagery, bad father/daughter relationship, minor wound mention, archaic standards of women, reader is Christian, probably inaccurate Christianity, more tags on ao3

wc: 2.7k

He has you kneeling on rice again.

Unforgiving grains burrow deep into your skin as their wickedly sharp ends pierce straight through your knees. Eyes trained on the scuffed wooden floor below you, you do not look at your father. Leather boots skirt your vision as he paces beside you, slow and with consideration. You swallow and the aftertaste of that morning’s communion dances on your tongue. Sweet wine pairs oddly with your father’s brutality, but it is the only flavor you’ve ever known.

Bloodied fingers coil around the back of the pew in front of you as he raps your knuckles with a wooden stick no larger than the circumference of his thumb. Searing pain cuts through you with the consideration of an untrained blade, but you are good at willing your tears away. He reminds you that this is your fault, and that this is a terrible waste. A waste of time, a waste of food—everything that concerns you is pure prodigality. Gluttony in its most concentrated form. You can consume nothing—not resource nor time—without it being a sin.

Crack!

“Again,” he demands.

Biting back the acrimony boiling in the depths of your throat, you shift. Rice scatters, bouncing along the floor as it spreads, and you grimace. There is only the slightest amount of comfort to be found in your movement, but it is met by swift punishment. You are not supposed to find solace while in the midst of one of your father’s demanding lessons.

Crack!

“Then, they spit on Him. They took the stick from His hands-”

Crack!

“Wrong. Again,” he demands.

Your mind reels as it attempts to recall the sermon your father gave that morning. His words spoken with utmost faith, the ones you are always made to recall as a lesson at the end of each morning, and yet you can’t. It’s patchy. Like the frayed ends of poorly woven textiles. No matter how often you blink, it won’t fix itself. You can only stumble and pray you pull on the right string to unravel it all.

“Then, they spit on Him. They took the stick from Him, and beat Him with it,” you attempt.

Once more, you are punished. It’s difficult to hold back the tears now as the skin on your knuckles parts like dried clay in a forgotten riverbed. They’re wide, deep crevices. Broken skin is good. It serves a purpose. It allows you to soak up your father’s lessons directly from the source.

“Do you not listen at all? Does your mind wander during my sermons? What better things do you have to think about than His word? Again,” he demands.

“Then, they spit on Him. They took the stick from Him, and beat Him on the head with it.”

There is a gentle lull that succeeds your recitation. Anxious pacing ceases as your father stares down at your kneeling form, gaze burning into the back of your head. When he hums, content with your answer, you feel every muscle in your body melt. Proud, you look up at him, ready to revel in accolades, but his lips are pressed firmly together. It is the only way he is able to restrain the acidulous words he would otherwise spew at you.

“Good,” he mutters, though it is flat. There is no pride to be found anywhere within him.

He strikes the stick against your knuckles five more times on each hand. With each impact, he reminds you this is for your own good. This is what a loving father does—a man of God—he teaches his daughter right from wrong.

As usual, you are made to clean up the mess that remains after your lesson. Rice is swept up by broom and stowed away into the pockets of your apron like treasured pebbles found on a walk, and what little blood that remains on the pew is wiped clean. Your hands ache. They pulse and throb, and the apex of your knuckles sting as if you’ve rubbed salt in the broken skin. You might as well have done as much with the brine that seeps into the wounds each time you rub at your eyes.

When all is clean, and your transgressions are swept aside, momentarily forgotten, you pray. Your father always says forgiveness is God’s duty. God is the quintessence of love and mercy while your father has proved many times he is not. A devout worshiper and priest, his love and respect is saved for his savior—never his daughter. So you kneel in the pews and bow your head before the cross strung up on the wall above you, and you beg. You apologize for the simple sin of your existence. You pray that God might bless you with the tools to be a better daughter.

Amen.

You rise. The church is stilly, and you are alone. You are left to ruminate about your failures in this divine building until it is spotless. There is always more cleaning to be done. Breadcrumbs left from communion, wine that stains the wooden floors nearly as bad as your own blood does, muck from work boots; you are on your hands and knees more often than your own two feet. Perpetually in prayer. Reciting scriptures. Cleaning this house of God until not a speck of sin remains.

When you are finished with your duties at the church, your father sends you into town to fetch wine. It’s foolish of you to believe he would allow you to sit at the dining table with him and partake in lunch. To enjoy a mouthwatering meal of boiled potatoes and ham. He always sends you out when you look like this—disheveled from cleaning and still trying to stunt the bleeding of your hands. It’s the acme of his lesson: ignominy. Shame digs in deeper, settles in nicer, when there’s an audience to witness it.

Mr. Beckett’s chickens are roaming the town again. You notice a few stragglers as you come to the end of the path that slowly morphs into the main road. Colorful hens cluck and bob their heads as you weave between them. They feast on small beetles with iridescent exoskeletons that flutter and click between sparse strands of grass, but when they take note of you, they stare expectantly. You try not to wince as your knuckles scrape against the fabric of your apron, hands diving into your pockets to retrieve uncooked rice. They flock as you toss the grains on the ground for them to peck and gorge themselves, putting your punishment to good use.

Sheep bleat at you just as you turn the corner into town. The flock has grown steady this spring with several new additions of playful lambs that trot after their mothers. They curiously line the fence as you pass by, and cry pitifully as your figure grows smaller in the distance. Townsfolk flutter in and out of steady wood buildings with their pockets full of money, both earned and spent. Your own fingers brush against the cash your father gave you for your task—you keep in mind his words of warning:

I’ll be counting that change when you return, girl.

The saloon isn’t busy this early in the afternoon, yet Mr. Beckett is perched at his bar wiping down glistening glasses. Empty tables adorn scratched wooden floors, and the tops are sparkling clean. The summer sun seeps through cracked windows, though the building still seems darker than it should be. A group of four men lurk in the far corner of the bar, each talking lowly and looking at you with shifting eyes, yet you avert your gaze as you approach the bar.

“Afternoon, Mr. Beckett,” you greet. You muster your best smile as you wipe a hand beneath your eyes, worried tear stains are still visible on your cheeks. “Your chickens are out again.”

Chuckling, Mr. Beckett pushes the empty glasses to the side to give you his full attention. Wrinkles settle in his face as crows feet wink by his eyes, and they only deepen as he smiles at you. There’s a cheeky twinkle that lurks in his grey eyes, and a rosy color that fills his cheeks.

“I’m sure that broke your heart having to see those critters running amuck along the trail,” he teases. “What can I do for you, kid?”

“My father sent me to get some wine for next week’s service,” you say.

“Ah, I should’ve known. Three?” he asks.

“Yes, please.”

Mr. Beckett holds up a finger as if to tell you to stay put before he wanders off to fetch your order. Sighing, you look down at your knuckles while you wait. They’ve stopped bleeding, but the blood crusts on your skin like boulders on a mountain. Your father didn’t even give you time to clean the scabs from your hands before sending you off to do his bidding. It’s almost as much of an eyesore as it is a literal sore.

But—as it is with all wounds—your blood seems to have attracted the dogs.

Their gazes burn your flesh, and you are suddenly well aware of the men at your back. You had done your best to ignore them upon your arrival, but curiosity gnaws at you with dull, aching teeth. Casting a cautious glance over your shoulder, you soak up swift looks at each of the men. You catch sight of a masked man too large for his own good, a handsome fellow with deep brown skin and kind eyes, a stranger with an even stranger haircut, and a man with a low sitting hat. The brim nearly covers his eyes, but you’re still able to catch the blaze of his cobalt gaze as he stares at you.

You shiver.

“Alright, here we are,” Mr. Beckett hums as he returns behind the bar. Glad to have someone else to focus on, you find a smile on your face as he begins to unload the bottles in his arms onto the counter. “Three bottles of red wine. Should be plenty for everyone, I hope.”

“I appreciate it, Mr. Beckett,” you chuckle. When digging into your apron pocket, you can’t help but wince as your knuckles once again scrape against the unyielding fabric. You play it off with a cough as you present the cash to him. “This ought to be enough.”

At the same time as he grabs the cash with one hand, Mr. Beckett grabs your wrist with the other. Gently, he turns your palm over until your knuckles are on display beneath the oil lamp that sits just above your head. Pressing your lips together, you keep your eyes on the bartop, too ashamed to witness the results of your own stupidity.

“Why don’t you grab a seat, kid,” he insists.

There’s no use in arguing; you’re well aware that he won’t give you your change until you let him clean you up. Sighing, you hop onto the stool and lay your palms flat on the counter while Mr. Beckett retrieves his strongest moonshine. He pours a bit of it onto a rag before pressing it into your cracked skin where it soaks deep like thirsty soil. Your squeak echoes in the near empty room, and you feel your face heat as you attempt to keep your head down.

“Why’d he do it this time?” he asks.

“It was my fault,” you insist.

“You and I both know it wasn’t,” Mr. Beckett retorts.

You swallow as he wipes the rag along your skin before moving to the next knuckle. “I couldn’t quote his sermon today. I should’ve paid better attention.”

“Perhaps your father should have more grace. He ought to marry you off already. I reckon you’d find more peace with a husband than you would with him.”

Things grow quiet between you and Mr. Becket just as the muttering grows louder behind you. Those men—those strangers—make the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. Still, you are grateful for their presence, as they give you something else to talk about than your unfortunate life as an eternal servant to your father.

“Mr. Beckett, can I ask about the gentlemen behind me?” you whisper.

He politely drops one hand in order to move to the next, but his eyes stray to strangers at your back. “Travelers. Blew into town a day or two ago. They’ve been doing odd jobs to scrounge up some money, but they’re nothing but trouble, if you ask me.”

“What makes you say that?” you ask, voice cracking as he starts cleaning your other hand.

Sighing, Mr. Beckett keeps his tongue between his teeth for a moment as he weighs his options. Eyes turning back to your hands, he pauses as he inspects the blood crusting on the rag.

“That fellow in the mask… I’ve heard of him. Ghost stories ‘bout him anyway. They all have strange accents. From across the pond, or so they say. They’ve all got this uncanny look in their eyes and… well, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say they’re the 141 Gang. At least, that fellow in the back looks like the man wanted from Blackpeak.”

This name—141—drops from Mr. Beckett’s lips like it’s supposed to mean something to you, and yet it doesn’t ring a bell. Eyes narrowing, you tilt your head at him.

“I’m not familiar,” you admit.

“Dangerous people. Robbers. Murderers. They might greet you with a smile, but just look at how sharp their teeth are, kid. Nothing but wild animals ready to rip out throats for a bounty or good pay. Surprised they’re not wanted by half of The West by this point. They make people disappear, then vanish just as quickly. I’m just hopin’ if I keep my head down long enough, they’ll skip town before they cause any trouble.”

Neither of you speak as the rest of your knuckles are cleared of debris and coagulated scabs. You are often plagued with the human affliction of having your heart stuck in your throat, but now you know your feelings aren’t unfounded. That tingle in your skin, the heat boiling at the nape of your neck—you wonder if these men even bother to wash the blood from their clothes before pretending to be human. Do they shed their wolf-teeth before attempting to blend into the flock?

Once Mr. Beckett is content with the dismal state of your hands, he finally gives you your change. You quickly stow it away in your apron pocket before you turn to the several bottles of wine waiting for you on the bartop. You gather them in your arms before you slide off of the stool, eager to get home and well away from this 141 Gang. Yet just as your feet hit the ground, the fabric of your skirt catches on the wood stool, and suddenly your seat comes toppling to the floor with a deafening thud.

Shame boils deep in your chest where it superheats your blood until your entire body is sweltering. You look up from the mess you’ve made with parted lips, yet no words come out. Your chest heaves as you stare up at Mr. Beckett with wide eyes, yet he only looks at you with benignancy.

“I-I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean- It just caught-” you stutter.

“It’s alright, kid,” he interjects.

Silence envelops you so suddenly that you’re painfully aware of how many sets of eyes are on you. Dark gazes glint in the numbra that lurks in the corner of the saloon. The men look over their shoulders and from beneath the brims of their hats to soak up the view of you—a trembling, pathetic thing that’s about to drop the wine from her hands.

“I’ll clean it up, don’t you worry about it,” Mr. Beckett assures as he rounds the corner of the bartop, waving you off. “Now, you best be on your way. Shouldn’t keep your daddy waiting.”

Turning around feels like opening a healing wound—it burns and leaves you trembling as you mutter a farewell and stumble out the door. You keep the wine in your arms clutched to your chest with wounded hands as you rush back home. Sheep bleat and chickens cluck, yet their whining cannot drown out the sound of your heart. That booming thunder as blood gushes through your veins; it still boils. Vermillion waves of unrelenting shame and fear.

Even on the edge of town you can still feel it—the gaze of those wolves. You pray to God that they leave your sleepy livestock town alone.

Then again, God has never been merciful in answering your prayers.

#kore writes #dwsu #john price x reader #price x reader #captain price x reader #captain john price x reader #john price x you #price x you #f!reader

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minisugakoobies · 9 months ago

Text

Yours for the Night | HHJ

Pairing: Hyunjin x Reader Genre: smut, porn with the barest of plot, frenemies to lovers, Model!AU Rating: M (18+) Warnings: so. much. cockiness from Hyunjin, arguing as a form of foreplay, a bit of dumbification, what's a little fucking between frenemies?, dick pics, exhibitionism, nipple play, mentions of slut shaming, grinding, fingerfucking, pinching, just a tiny bit of spit, unexpected use of pet names, oral sex (f receiving), wet and messy, biting, dirty talk, maybe a little degradation (talking about reader being cock stupid), unprotected sex (bc used), riding/cowgirl style, praise/use of "good girl," soft dom!hyunjin vibes, rough/hard sex, multiple positions, creampie, multiple orgasms Word Count: 8.8k Disclaimers: NSFW, obviously I don’t own SKZ - they just inspire me Summary: “Let me lay it out for you, so there’s no misunderstanding. If you can stop pretending for five seconds that you don’t want me the way I want you, you can have me tonight.” Or, Hyunjin makes you an offer you simply can't refuse.

A/N: I finished this earlier than expected, thanks to the inspiration that is Hyunjin at Milan Fashion Week. Have you seen him?? 🥵 Anyway, it's all because of his stunning beauty that this filthy lil pwp exists. Enjoy! 😘

Unbeta'd as usual. I would *love* to hear your thoughts - my inbox is always open (anon is on, but hateful comments will be blocked. Be kind, writers do this for free and with love!) 💕

SKZ Masterlist

It’s Friday night, you’re out for drinks with your friends, and you are frustrated.

It’s not the club that’s bothering you. You’re here tonight at Felix’s request. He’d told you all it had been too long since you’d gone out as a group, so all nine of you and your friends crammed yourselves into a couple of rides and headed for downtown.

Nor is it the incredibly tight, short, and backless dress you’ve poured yourself into that’s annoying you, though it’s certainly not helping. Your fingers anxiously grasp at the hem, tugging it down your thighs as you take a seat at the table where Felix and Seungmin are currently talking.

No, it’s something personal that has you wound tighter than a corset tonight. Work has been kicking your ass lately, and it’s put a huge damper on your sex life. You haven’t been out with anyone new in the last few months. Haven’t had any time to reach out to any of your small group of casual hookups who would typically lend a hand. Most nights you’ve even been too tired to masturbate.

Put simply, you’re ready to fucking pop.

Which is why you’re wearing this bodybinding dress and staring at the dance floor like a wildcat stalking its prey, searching to find someone to help you with your problem. Unfortunately, you’ve been here for hours, and no one’s caught your eye so far.

Your clutch rattles on the table, drawing your attention. Everyone who would usually text you is here, so out of curiosity, you take out your phone. The notification tells you that Hyunjin sent you a photo.

You glance across the room at where Hyunjin is sitting in a booth with Changbin, deep in conversation. Why would he send you a photo right now?

Your confusion only grows when you look at the photo. It’s a selfie, Hyunjin raising his champagne glass in a toast to the camera, perfectly tousled dark hair spilling over his brow as he fixes you with his signature smirk. It’s a gorgeous shot, of course, because he’s a gorgeous man, but again, why is he sending you selfies in the middle of tonight’s celebration? Or at all? Hyunjin’s never been the type to send you photos before, of himself or the group or anything.

He’s never really been the type to text you, period, outside of the group chat. Probably because the two of you aren’t really friends. Frenemies would be more accurate. You share the same group of friends, but have nothing else in common. Which is fine, you don’t have to be close to hang out, but he’s… well… he’s an acquired taste, and you’ve never developed an appreciation. Hyunjin’s snooty and cocky - overly so, in your opinion, even if he is the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. Most of your conversations consist of nothing but arguing. He’s very stubborn and loves to get the last word in on everything. Which drives you crazy because you prefer to have the final say.

So to say this sudden selfie has you perplexed is an understatement.

Ignoring whatever Felix and Seungmin are talking about, you fire off a question.

You: What is this? Hyunjin: Are you that drunk? It’s me

Reflexively, you scowl at your screen.

You: I know it’s you You: But WHY are you sending me a photo of yourself? Hyunjin: You’ve been staring at me all night Hyunjin: I thought maybe you’d like something to take home, to keep

Again, you look over, only to find him looking at you, lips curled to match his photo. Heat flames through you. Could he be more conceited?

Maybe the vanity isn’t totally unearned, considering that he’s an actual model, making a living using his ethereal beauty to sell products. His own lifestyle is just as luxurious as the images he appears in. Like right now, he’s wearing the finest black suit, obviously couture, with a few silver necklaces draped over his tie that you’ve no doubt cost more than your entire outfit alone.

And sure, he has a jawline carved by the gods, thick eyebrows that frame expressive, cat-like eyes, and ridiculously pouty lips that you’ve found yourself staring at once… an hour on average. Maybe in your weakest moments you’ve even dreamt about what it would be like to kiss those lips.

But does that mean he has to be a dick all the time?

You: You’re such an ass Hyunjin: Deny it all you want, but we both know you can’t keep your eyes off me Hyunjin: Not that I blame you You: It’s amazing your head still fits through doors Hyunjin: You’d be the first to notice if it didn’t

Your nostrils flare. No matter what you say, he always flips it back on you. Admittedly, you are a little tipsy, so you’re not fully on your game, but it’s still annoying as fuck. And right now, you really don’t need another reason to be frustrated.

You: Whatever, Hyunjinnie

You cast another glance at Hyunjin, delighting in the way he frowns at your response. He hates it when you call him that.

You take a moment to locate the rest of your friends. Changbin’s still sitting with Hyunjin. Jeongin and Chan are doing shots at the bar. Minho and Jisung are in their own little world on the dance floor, arms draped around one another. Neither Felix nor Seungmin seemed to have noticed that you have dropped out of their discussion. Part of you feels guilty for ignoring them, but, well, you’re a little fired up now, and the only thing that would make you feel better would be getting the last word in with Hyunjin for once.

You take a sip of your cocktail, floating the cold liquid on your tongue as you devise your next line of attack, when your phone buzzes again.

Hyunjin: I have another photo for you You: Why? Hyunjin: Because I think you’d like it You: Oh really? Like you know what I like Hyunjin: Always so argumentative Hyunjin: You’re pretty easy to figure out Hyunjin: The staring makes it incredibly obvious

Such an ass.

You: Fuck off Hyunjin: I will not You: What’s your game, man? Hyunjin: No game Hyunjin: Can’t I just do something nice for you?

The man is a riddle. An enigma draped in Versace.

You type out “I guess there’s a first time for everything” and press send, putting your phone down long enough to watch him get the text. Hyunjin laughs to himself, smiling down at his screen, and there’s this weird feeling of satisfaction in your stomach at the sight. Whatever, you like making people laugh, even assholes like him. So what.

You tell yourself that you’re not going to wait at his beck and call, jumping to read his texts as they come in, if in fact he keeps sending them, but then your phone vibrates again and you snap it up immediately, because you’re a liar.

Hyunjin: Just trust me Hyunjin: You want this Hyunjin: But I want something first You: Oh here we go You: There’s the catch A hand waves over your phone. “Hi, hello, are we boring you?”

Quickly, you turn it over before Seungmin can see your text thread. “No, sorry, I was just, uh - “

“Hey, leave her be,” your savior Felix says, pushing Seungmin lightly. “She’s had a rough couple of weeks. She shouldn’t have to suffer through your boring work stories, too.”

“Hey!”

Seungmin and Felix dissolve into arguing as you covertly flip your phone back over.

Hyunjin: I’m not asking much Hyunjin: Just a photo of you. A photo for a photo

He can’t be serious.

You: I’m not sending you a nude Hyunjin: Did I say nude? No, I did not Hyunjin: A normal selfie, that’s all

Again your suspicion rises. What is he playing at? Where is this going?

You: But WHY? Hyunjin: Maybe I can’t stop staring, either

Your breath catches in your throat. When you look up, he’s gazing at you again, but his expression is less smug than usual and more… ravenous.

You turn away so fast, your neck cracks.

Hyunjin: So? Send me a pic.

There’s no reason for you to agree to this. Absolutely no reason at all. Beyond, of course, your burning curiosity.

It’s really going to get you in trouble one day.

Grabbing your clutch, you slip off your chair. “Ladies room,” you announce, glancing at Felix and Seungmin, who aren’t listening anyway, still squabbling. You wander just far enough out of sight of your friends, find a spot with good lighting back near the bar (because even if it’s just for Hyunjin, your vanity will not let you take an unflattering photo), and snap a quick picture, firing it off right away.

As you’re sliding back into your seat, your phone vibrates. Hyunjin sent another photo.

You swallow reflexively. Holy shit. It’s a shot of his crotch, dress pants straining to contain what is clearly a massive cock, gripped through the fabric by long fingers.

Hwang Hyunjin sent you a dick pic.

So it’s not big dick energy, it’s just big dick, is the first coherent thought you have once the screeching inside your head stops. It occurs to you that you’ve been gawking unblinkingly at your phone for at least several minutes, so you raise your head to make sure your friends aren’t watching you, and thankfully they’re not. Really, you should know better than to underestimate just how much Felix and Seungmin love to bicker.

But what are you supposed to say to Hyunjin now? Your thumbs hover, waiting for inspiration, but you’re stuck.

Hyunjin: Wow, are you speechless? Hyunjin: Guess there really is a first time for everything

Even without looking, you know he’s smirking at you from across the room. Suddenly, you need another drink, so you mumble “bar” in Felix’s direction and stumble away. As the bartender mixes you another cocktail, you grip your phone tightly, waging an inner war with yourself.

You should look at the photo again. You shouldn’t look at the photo again. You should delete it, and Hyunjin’s number, and maybe throw the phone in the nearest trash bin too, just for extra comfort. But holy fuck, do you want to look at the photo again!

What you really don’t want is to think about the effect that photo has had on your pussy, because it’s humiliating how much she’s throbbing right now.

“I’ll take one of those as well, thanks.” A hand waves towards the bartender, and your treacherous brain immediately recognizes those fingers as the fingers from Hyunjin’s photo, and starts picturing what those lithe digits would look like wrapped around your throat. Great. Now your brain has joined your pussy. Traitors.

You say nothing as Hyunjin takes the seat next to you. Partly because you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’s gotten under your skin again, albeit in a very different way, but also partly because you’re still not sure what to say.

“You know,” Hyunjin bends towards you, close enough for his warm breath to tickle your ear, “if I’d known that all it would take to get you to stop arguing with me was showing you my cock, I would’ve introduced you much sooner.”

“God, you are just - just the worst,” you snarl, teeth clenched hard enough to give you a headache.

“Now really, is that any way to speak to someone who just gave you a gift?” Hyunjin sips his drink calmly.

Well, there’s the Hyunjin you recognize. What you don’t understand is how he’s still making your cunt drip with need. All you can think about right now is what he’s hiding under those suit pants. Are you really this dumbstruck by cock?

(Yes. Yes, you are.)

“Me and every other woman in this club, I bet. You probably air dropped it to the whole room.” You wouldn’t put it past him. Maybe that was his plan the whole time - work you up then leave you begging while he hooked up with someone else. As if you’d beg.

“Oh no, that was just for you.”

“Uh-huh, sure.”

With a roll of his eyes, Hyunjin clicks his tongue. “Come on. You know how selective I am when it comes to my clothes or my liquor. Why would I be any less selective about who I fuck?”

“Who you fuck?” Whoa, who said anything about fucking? Besides your duplicitous brain and pussy. “Who - who said - that’s not - I mean -” You’ve suddenly become the Big Bad Wolf, huffing and puffing, unable to form a complete sentence.

Hyunjin rises, leaning over you as you gaze up at him from your barstool. He places his hands on the bar, one arm on either side of you, bracketing you in, wild eyes trailing down your figure slowly before he smiles, hungry and sharp, and you realize, no, here’s the wolf.

“Listen, there’s no reason we can’t fuck. Friends fuck all the time.” His hand glides over your shoulder, light as a feather, and you watch dazedly as goosebumps ripple along your skin. His touch is electric.

“Is that what we are? Friends?”

Hyunjin shrugs, lips twisted in a droll smile. “Close enough. This doesn’t have to be complicated. You said it yourself - you’re in need.”

“What? When did - I never said that!” Again you struggle to speak coherently, sputtering in your confusion.

Hyunjin frowns. “Ah, you’re right, I misspoke. That was Felix who said that, wasn’t it? On the ride here?”

You curse inwardly, remembering the private discussion you and Felix had had on the way to the club, when you were discussing your dry spell. Or at least, it was supposed to be private, but obviously someone had been listening in. Felix had offered to play wingman for you, saying he wouldn’t let anything keep him from helping you “in your time of need” - a bit dramatic, but that was Felix for you.

You’d waved him off, insisting that you could snag someone without any help. But here you are, drowning your sorrows at the bar with no possibilities in sight. Maybe you should’ve accepted Felix’s help after all.

“That’s not…” Sighing, you shrug. There was no point in trying to deny what he’d heard. “Fine, yeah, I came here tonight hoping to leave with someone, but I didn’t mean you!”

“That’s because you didn’t know I was an option.” Again his gaze travels down your body, lingering like a slow caress. “But after seeing the way you look tonight, I had to offer myself up.”

Always. So. Cocky. You want to deny that his words have an effect on you. Want to. But can’t.

And like that, your resolve starts to slip.

“You really want to help me out?” you ask. He nods, irises blown as his eyes flicker to yours, and it puts fire in your belly, has you biting your lip in contemplation. “What makes you think you have what I need?”

Hyunjin doesn’t bother to check if any of your friends are watching as he steps closer, like he doesn’t care if anyone sees the way he cups your cheek. Or how he slides his thumb over your lips, dragging the bottom one down before lowering his mouth towards yours. He hangs there, just for a second - just long enough for you to tip your face up in a wordless answer.

His touch has nothing on his kiss. Your whole body thrums from head to toe, fizzing like the champagne on your tongue earlier, sweet and effervescent. His hand falls to your hip, squeezes there suddenly, and you feel a rush of heat between your thighs.

Hyunjin’s plush lips part, letting the tip of his tongue briefly nudge against yours before he pulls away, leaving you blinking dumbly. He lets out a low chuckle, gently wiping a drop of spit from your chin.

“I just know.”

You’re too busy licking the inside of your lips, hunting for any lingering trace of him, to respond.

“Let me lay it out for you, so there’s no misunderstanding. If you can stop pretending for five seconds that you don’t want me the way I want you, you can have me tonight.” His eyes dip to your mouth and back, and you find yourself holding your breath, waiting for him to make a move again. Needing him to. “Just think about it.”

And then he walks away, leaving you nearly toppling off your seat, floundering in his wake.

The ice cubes in your cocktail have all but melted by the time you remember you ordered another drink. Sipping it slowly, you replay the last several minutes in your head. Did all of that just happen? Did Hyunjin really just offer himself to you? And then kiss you like that?

You feel like you’re going out of your mind.

“Just think about it.”

Hyunjin’s last words echo in your head as you wander on wobbly legs back towards the table where Felix and Seungmin are still standing.

And oh, god, do you think about it.

For the rest of the night, no matter how many conversations you have with your other friends, no matter how hard you dance, no matter what you do - the sole thought occupying your brain is what it would be like to fuck Hyunjin. Again and again, you picture him above you, beneath you, behind you, big cock stretching you out, making you scream his name.

But it’s not worth it to give in to him. It can’t be. Good dick - if it’s good - can’t be enough to undo all the annoying shit he does, can it?

You cut yourself off early in the night, explaining that someone needs to stay sober enough to call for rides, but really you’re afraid that if you get completely blitzed, you’ll end up admitting something you don’t want to admit and going home with Hyunjin. Your friends honor your noble sacrifice by achieving impressive levels of drunk, ranging from delightful (Felix repeatedly booping you on the nose, calling you his “widdle buddy”) to disastrous (Chan, who gets upset when the guy he hits on in the bathroom doesn’t respond - turns out he was hitting on his own reflection - before falling asleep in a stall).

Since the club is in the middle of downtown, you arrange for two cars to pick you and your friends up - one heading east, one heading west. Changbin, Chan, Hyunjin, and you pile into the ride heading west. Changbin hops into the passenger’s seat before you can slip in, leaving you smushed in the back between Hyunjin and Chan’s gigantic thighs.

Said thighs are splayed a bit as Chan’s head lolls back, a loud snore erupting out of him as the car makes its first stop outside Changbin’s apartment.

“Can’t take him anywhere,” Changbin grunts, snapping a rather unflattering photo of Chan sleeping with his mouth wide open, obviously saving it to drop in the group chat at the most opportune time. “Can you two make sure he gets home okay? I know it’s a bit out of the way, but, well, look at him.”

Chan continues to rumble like a fighter jet, unaware of everything going on around him.

“Yeah, don’t worry, we got him,” Hyunjin replies, and you just nod. “Night, ‘Bin.”

Changbin gives the driver Chan’s address and then he ducks out of the cab. Your place is technically the next closest, but getting Chan back to his place safe and sound is the priority.

With Chan sleeping next to you, it’s basically just you and Hyunjin alone now. A fact that has also occurred to Hyunjin, whose hand has been drifting further and further around your waist the entire ride. Now it slides around openly, tucking you against his side. You could fight it if you so desired - he’s not holding you tightly. He’s giving you the chance to escape.

You’re not sure you want to.

“Have you thought about it?” he murmurs, nose against your ear.

Your body reacts to the tone of his voice, thighs rubbing together, as you nod.

“And what did you decide?”

“I - I don’t know.”

A puff of air tickles your skin as he laughs derisively. “Do you really need some convincing?”

Chan snuffles loudly, reminding you that there’s another person right next to you, since your entire focus is on Hyunjin, and the way his hand is now creeping beneath the open back of your dress, and slowly moving up your rib cage.

When he cups your left breast, you stifle a gasp. But you can’t stop the tiny “ah!” that escapes when he gently pinches your nipple. You attempt to cover it with a cough, hoping the driver’s lack of visible response means he didn’t hear you. Meanwhile, next to you, Chan doesn’t stir.

“Feel good?” Hyunjin coos quietly. “Must’ve felt good, given the way you’re squirming right now.”

Your hips have started to rock of their own volition. Brain, hips, pussy, all on your shit list.

“But just think how much better it’ll feel when it’s my mouth.” His tongue flicks the shell of your ear before he sucks your earlobe into his warm mouth. A preview of what’s to come. It makes you squirm even harder, dying for any sort of relief for the aching between your legs.

Remarkably, you manage to speak, hissing, “You’re a demon.”

Hyunjin laughs. “You’ve no idea.”

His hand stays where it is until the car pulls up at the curb outside Chan’s house. It takes a minute for the two of you to wake Chan, then another minute for him to realize where he is, then yet another minute for him to slide out of the car. Hyunjin sighs and also climbs out of the cab to make sure Chan gets into his house safely.

When Hyunjin returns, the driver glances in the rearview mirror. “So, one more stop, or two?”

You blink at the question. The air in the cab feels heavy with implication. Hyunjin says nothing, but looks at you expectantly, and you understand - the choice is yours.

You glance at your hands, as if they’ll help you choose. Your watch informs you that it’s 2:12 in the morning. Don’t they always say not to trust any decisions you make after two am?

When the driver clears his throat a little too loudly, Hyunjin’s fingers grip your chin.

“Well? You heard him - one stop or two?”

You meet his gaze, surprised to find a fire burning in his eyes.

Maybe you’d be a fool to run towards it, seeking warmth where there might only be danger.

Fine, then. You’re a fool.

“One.”

With a satisfied grin, Hyunjin gives the driver his address.

You’re a little tense during the elevator ride up to Hyunjin’s apartment. Hyunjin, on the other hand, looks completely relaxed, quietly leaning against the wall with his normal blasé expression on his face. Like you’re not about to cross a boundary here that you never expected to cross. Like this was inevitable.

As soon as you’re both inside and his door is locked, he turns to face you, and you suck in a deep breath, waiting impatiently for him to touch you again.

Instead, he asks, “Do you want some water?”

“Um, yeah, sure.”

He must read confusion on your face - at least, you hope it looks like confusion and not disappointment - because the corner of his mouth lifts in a small smile.

“A few questions first,” he says, walking into his kitchen, sliding his suit jacket off as he goes. “Are you in good health?”

“Am I - am I in good health?”

Hyunjin tuts. “I’d ask if you need me to repeat myself but clearly you heard the question.”

You stare at his back, brows furrowing as you decipher his meaning. “Are you asking if I’ve been tested recently? Yes, I have been. Nothing to report.”

“Good, me too,” he replies, yanking his tie off and tossing it onto the counter before opening the fridge and grabbing you both a bottle of water. He eyes you as he opens his. “Are you on birth control?”

“Is this what you’re like on a date? Does your foreplay always involve interrogating your partner with clinical questions?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” He tilts his head back as he drinks, so he doesn’t catch the glare you shoot his way. “Answer the question.”

“Yes, dick, I’m on birth control.” You take a swig of your water. The memory of his touch in the taxi is fading more and more with every second that passes. With a clearer head, you’re starting to question if you’ve made the right choice.

“Good,” he repeats, wiping his mouth. “I prefer to fuck raw.”

You clench around nothing at the thought, but scowl anyway. “What about what I prefer?”

Hyunjin just hums, fingers brushing your cheek before they tap under your chin. “Do you want me to use a condom?” There’s no drollness or sarcasm to his tone. He’s genuinely asking.

“No.” Your pride takes a tiny hit at the way you answer him immediately, without hesitation.

Just as quickly as his gentle tone came, it disappears again, vanishing as Hyunjin flashes a smug smile. “That’s what I thought.”

“That’s what - oh fuck off.” There he is again, that cocky asshole. Reflexively, you curse at him, ready to fight. “Fuck you, you don’t know anything about me.”

“How many times do I need to tell you that I do? You’re so easy to read.”

“Really?” Okay then. You’ll call his bluff. “Go ahead, Hyunjinnie. Tell me what I like.”

He rolls his eyes. His fingers make quick work of his cufflinks, setting them on the granite top beside him, and he slides his sleeves up, revealing toned forearms beneath.

“Well, for starters, you love getting under my skin with that infantile nickname.”

“No shit. Everyone knows that.”

“You live for arguing, especially with me. Can’t let a single sentence go by without snapping back.”

“Maybe that’s because you’re always wrong.”

Hyunjin doesn’t take the bait, merely leans back against the counter, examining you so openly that you feel exposed, so you cross your arms, as if that will help you block his penetrating gaze. He takes a few seconds before speaking again.

“No, it’s not that. Though I’m sure that’s what you tell yourself. If it were, you wouldn’t be here right now.”

He speaks so calmly, so self-assuredly. It’s maddening, even though you’re burning with curiosity. Makes you want to know more, so you press him again. “Okay, then - what is it? Why am I here?”

“Because you wanted someone to take control.” He spreads his arms wide. “And here I am.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You know. You want someone else to be in charge. Make the decisions. Do the work for you. Then fuck you so hard that all those thoughts just fly right out of that pretty little head of yours.” He says it all so matter-of-factly, like it’s completely evident, your deepest desires laid bare for all to witness.

You want to dismiss his words, act like he’s so far off the mark that he’s on another planet, but you’re too surprised by his answer to respond with anything other than stunned silence. His arrogant smile returns. Clearly he was expecting you to fight, so your lack of a snappy comeback only confirms to him that he’s right.

“Just look at what you’re wearing,” he continues. “That tight dress screams ‘please fuck me stupid!’ Lucky for you, that’s exactly what I intend to do.”

You find your voice. “Oh, now you’re judging my clothing? And - and slut shaming me?”

“Please. I’m always judging your clothing. But it’s a taste thing, not some sort of moral judgment.” He smirks. “And I’m very supportive of sluts, thank you.”

As he sips his water, you replay the entire evening in your mind. Sending you the photos. Kissing you. Making the offer. Fuck. He really did do the work for you tonight. Was there ever a chance you were going to say no? Judging by Hyunjin’s attitude, this moment was never in doubt. He knew you’d end up here with him.

The other realization that dawns on you is - you’re not mad about any of that. The only thing you’re mad about is that, once again, he’s right about something. And he knows it.

Okay. Fine. You want to be fucked stupid. But does he have to be so fucking rude about it??

“Maybe this was a bad idea.”

He suddenly steps towards you. His expression is so intense that you move without thinking, backing all the way into the fridge. Your heart feels like it might burst through your ribcage at the slightest provocation, breath leaving your lungs in tiny exhalations as his thumb ghosts your cheek.

Not because you’re scared. Because you’re excited.

“Tell me you don’t want to kiss me.”

Hyunjin says the words softly, but there’s a firmness to his gaze that makes you swallow hard.

Your lips don’t move.

He kisses you. Wraps his hands around your waist, pulls you to his demanding mouth, head turning this way and that as his lips crash onto yours.

You kiss him back. Just as greedily, just as deeply.

His hand strokes your thigh. “Tell me you don’t want me to touch you.”

You make no noise.

His fingers crawl beneath your skirt, dancing over the silk of your underwear. Your gasp warms his tongue. A throaty growl chokes him.

“So wet for me.” He brings his hand up to show you the evidence, skin glistening. As if you didn’t already know.

He surges forward, pinning you to the fridge, mouth blazing a trail from your ear to your neck as his fingers press into your soaking slit.

“Ah, Hyunjin!” you whimper, clutching wildly at his bicep. The swell of his arm bulges as his fingers slowly search your inner walls, like they’re mapping every inch of you. When they trace over your g-spot, they linger, brushing again and again. “Oh my god!”

“Tell me,” he implores, husky voice breaking, like he’s barely in control, “tell me to stop and I will. Tell me you don’t want this - don’t want me - and I’ll call you a ride and we’ll never talk about this again.”

His forehead bumps yours, eyes smoldering with bright intensity, hand still plunging.

This time, you speak, chest heaving as you gasp for air.

“Don’t - don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

A smile spreads across Hyunjin’s face. He pulls you closer, wrapping an arm around your waist, the other hand still working between your thighs. You moan, feeling his erection digging into your hip as he presses himself against you, holding you firmly in place while he adds a third finger to the two already fucking you open.

“Say it,” he commands, mouth wet and hot on your cheek. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want, oh, fuck, I, I want you to fuck me, Hyunjin.”

In an instant, he’s disentangled himself from you, and you can’t help but whine very loudly at the sudden loss of his fingers. Hyunjin just smirks at your naked desperation, spinning you around so you’re in front of him.

“Come on,” he says, lightly pinching your ass to make you move. You yelp, smacking him on the arm, but he just laughs. “I’m not fucking you in here. Let’s go.”

“Asshole,” you curse, but you go anyway, because all you want is for him to touch you again, and if he’s refusing to do it in here, then why would you want to stay? You’re going wherever his hands go.

Maybe you should feel ashamed, for giving in so easily. But you don’t. All you feel is desire. This is what you want. What you need.

Hyunjin’s fingers press lightly on the small of your back as he guides you down the hallway to his bedroom. It’s just as ostentatious as the rest of his place - expensive-looking light fixtures hanging from the ceiling, dark leather headboard and frame for his gigantic bed, which is covered in piles of plush-looking blankets and pillows. There’s a gorgeous painting taking up most of the wall above his bed.

He doesn’t give you much time to admire the room, because as soon as you’re in front of the bed, he spins you again, hands reaching for the zipper of your dress, sliding it to the ground, leaving you standing there in nothing but your panties. Before you can tell him to stop pushing you around, he’s kissing you fervently, like he’s been dying the entire time his mouth has been away from yours these last few minutes, and suddenly you forget that you’re irritated.

Hyunjin backs you onto the bed, breaking away from your lips long enough to urge you to move towards the headboard, unbuttoning his shirt and tossing it to the side as he follows. When his fingers grab for his belt, they find yours already there, making short work of the buckle. He groans in delight, deciding to use his hands to grope your bare breasts while you unzip his pants.

“Can’t wait to see it in real life, huh?” he asks, dragging his thumbs over your nipples. He chuckles when you just whimper, back arching slightly to encourage him to keep touching you.

The truth is, yes, you can’t wait to see Hyunjin’s massive dick, but more importantly, you can’t wait to feel it inside you, so you continue with your task, pushing his pants and boxers down together. And god, what a cock it is, long and thick and positively darkened with need. Smeared drops of excitement coat the head, and the sight makes your mouth water.

He rises up to kneel between your legs, grabbing his cock with one hand and giving it a few lazy pumps. “Well? Don’t tell me you’re speechless again.”

“Goddamn it,” you huff in exasperation, “you’re the fucking worst.” But you can’t stop staring as he gently squeezes the head, making a pleased noise, relieving himself a little while he watches you writhe in impatience.

“You’ll be singing a different tune in a moment, sweetheart.”

Your nose wrinkles at how easily ‘sweetheart’ drips off his tongue. “Just put it in me already,” you demand, leaning back on your elbows, licking your lips as you peer up at him, trying to send a blatant “fuck me!” signal with every inch of your body.

Hyunjin tuts, lifting one of his gorgeously thick eyebrows. “Right to it? Is that what you really want?” In one swift motion, he hooks a finger under your panties and drags them down and off. It’d be a more impressive move if anyone but him were doing it.

“I just… I thought we were gonna fuck?” Isn’t that what you’re here for?

“Of course we are. But is that how you typically do it? No foreplay, no build up?” His fingers rake down your stomach, trail over your thighs, causing your body to twitch with shivers. “That doesn’t sound like any fun at all.”

It’s not how you’d prefer to do this, no. You’re just surprised that he agrees. So you say nothing in reply, visibly closing your mouth while he maneuvers you into position, pushing your legs up so your knees bend, your thighs meeting your stomach, completely exposing your cunt to him.

“That’s better. Just let me play with you a little first, sweetheart. I promise you’ll like it.”

Your instinct is to argue with him, tell him he has no idea what you’d like, but you’ve already done that tonight. And you were wrong. So again, you bite your tongue.

Until he extends his own, letting a string of spit fall onto your pussy.

“Ew, Hyunjin!” You’re disgusted, but not with him. Why do you find that so hot?

“Too much?” he inquires, letting go of your legs as he glances at you. You’re not sure you’ve ever seen a real expression of concern on his face before. It rattles you slightly.

Biting your lip, you shake your head. “No - keep going.”

He nods, hands reaching for your thighs again. “If I hit any hard no’s for you, say something, and I promise I’ll stop, okay?”

“I will.”

He bows over you again, licking a straight line up your slit. With a moan, you let your head drop back against the pillows. His mouth feels absolutely divine.

Where others in the past just dove in, Hyunjin takes his time. He drags his tongue around slowly, licking through your soaking folds, tasting you. It reminds you of the way you’d seen him drink a really fine whisky, holding it in his mouth, quietly identifying every note, every flavor. Relishing, instead of rushing.

When his lips brush over your clit, leaving teasing kisses, you moan. Hyunjin hums, a self-satisfied little rumble, and lifts his head. “See? Told you you’d like this.”

“Please, shut up and suck my clit.” It’s meant to be an order but definitely sounds like a pathetic whine. Whatever, as long as he listens.

He listens. Those plush lips that you can’t stop yourself from staring at roll over your already throbbing little nub and warm pleasure runs down your spine before pooling in your belly. His dark hair keeps falling in his face, obscuring him from your view, and for some reason you can’t have that. Tentatively, you reach out, hand shaking a little.

Hyunjin hums when your fingers slide through his soft locks, pushing the strands back, holding them in place so you can see his eyes, the way they squeeze shut when he sucks noisily on your clit. The sounds he makes are so loud, completely uninhibited, moaning and grunting as his lips smack and his tongue laps.

He uses said tongue to fuck you expertly, his movements so confident, so sure. He reads every quiver, listens to every moan, figures out how to work you up with quick, teasing shallow plunges, before slowing it down, going deeper, tongue brushing your walls like he’s speaking a language only your body understands.

“Hyunjin,” you sigh, unable to tear your eyes away from him.

His mouth parts from you long enough for him to speak. “There it is. There’s the tone I was looking for. Enjoy this, sweetheart. I know I am.”

You’re enjoying it so much that you unexpectedly whimper when he stops again a moment later, feeling a little embarrassed as he exhales a quiet laugh into your warmth. “Just hold on,” he murmurs, dragging his tongue up your slit to pass over your clit again and again, before sliding a finger into your clenching hole.

“Ohhhh.”

The combination is so good, his finger filling you while his mouth suctions to you, that your eyes flutter shut. He pulls out and glides back in, all the way to his knuckles in one smooth motion, your wet folds parting so easily for him. He’s done an amazing job of spreading your slickness around, coating your inner thighs, messing his bed beneath you.

“Gonna make you come,” Hyunjin says, spreading you open with two fingers now. “Need you to come before I can fuck you just like you want. Can you do that for me?”

The tension in your gut tells you that that shouldn’t be a problem. Both fingers have curled inside you, stroking over your soft spot, making you pant, clutching Hyunjin’s satin sheets for dear life.

“Hy-Hyun-”

Before you can even finish saying his name, the tension snaps, nerves firing from your cunt to your toes, causing your legs to lock up. Hyunjin groans, moving his hands to grasp at your thighs, trying to loosen their squeeze.

“Easy, sweetheart, don’t take me out just yet.” When your body finally starts to relax, he grins. “There we go. Good girl.”

If this were any other time, you’d snap at him for dropping that pet phrase on you. But you’re too blissed out at the moment, practically purring as he starts to kiss his way up your torso.

When he reaches your breasts, he joins you, a low rumble sounding from the back of his throat. His nose nuzzles between them, as he leaves loud kisses on their swelling curves.

Another thing Hyunjin isn’t wrong about - his mouth feels much better than his fingers do on your nipples, tongue gliding like warm velvet against the pert nubs. You continuously moan, until you’re nearly panting, fingers once again finding his dark locks and threading themselves between.

“How am I doing, sweetheart?” he murmurs.

“Good.” It doesn’t even occur to you to tell him anything but the truth. “So good, Hyunjinnie. Ah!” You flinch as he suddenly nips the other nipple, teeth clamping gently. “Why?!”

“You and that damn nickname. I must not be doing enough if you’re still calling me that.” He rises onto his knees, shaking his head. “Guess I just gotta fuck it out of you.”

And just like that, you feel that spark again.

“Sure you will, Hyunjinnie,” you simper, voice dripping with honey, so sickeningly-sweet as you coo his name. It has the desired effect, making Hyunjin’s eyes flash.

He reaches for you, pulling you up into his lap, before you can so much as breathe. “You doubting me, sweetheart?” His hands press into your hips, urging you down on him. Both of you groan as his cock slides along your cunt, and the sparks inside you ignite.

“I’m not your sweetheart,” you spit back, feeling that familiar sense of agitation, but it’s not annoyance now, it’s anticipation.

“And I’m not really yours, but let’s play pretend for the night,” he drawls, and you look at him with wide eyes, but he kisses away the wonder on your face, working you up with teeth and tongue, until you’re frenzied with need. Your fingers clutch at his biceps, nails sinking in to tether him closer.

His hands on your waist guide you down again. As his cockhead breaches your lips, you keen, head falling forward onto his shoulder.

“Holy fuck,” you gasp. The stretch is delicious, cunt already throbbing around his thickness.

Both of you freeze when you’re fully seated on him, no sounds in the room but the rhythmic cadence of your panting intertwining with his.

“You know,” Hyunjin speaks through grit teeth, focused on the spot where your bodies join, “we could’ve been doing this a long, long time ago.”

You don’t know what to say to that. How long has he wanted this? You’re not sure the exact answer for yourself, except that it’s longer than you’d ever truly want to confess.

“Maybe - maybe if you weren’t such a - oh, oh, oh!” Your lame attempt at a retort is lost to the rapid snapping of Hyunjin’s hips when he starts to thrust up into you. There’s nothing you can do but bounce in his lap, clinging to his shoulders as he finally fucks you just as hard as he’d promised. “Hyunjin, please!”

Hyunjin grunts, perspiration trickling down his forehead as he concentrates on giving you what you wanted. His jaw flexes, brows drawn together in a frown, and even with this fierce expression on his face, he’s so beautiful that you can’t help yourself, diving forward to kiss that gorgeous mouth of his like you’ve always imagined, as if you weren’t just kissing him a few minutes ago, but like it’s the first time, tracing his lips with yours, imprinting the feeling of them against your own to store away in your memory for later.

“Fuck, sweetheart.” His words are the oxygen you inhale, tongues pressed together like the pages of a book. “I think I prefer you this way. So needy for my cock.” He smirks. “Kinda want to keep you like this.”

He digs his fingers into the plump roundness of your ass as he grinds into you, sliding you back and forth. Your hips undulate, rolling you down on his big cock, feeling every inch of him rubbing against your walls.

“Hyu-hyu-hyun!”

It’s impossible to get an entire word out, given the pace at which Hyunjin’s strokes are jostling you. Your staccato cries get louder when he switches it up, laying you on your back and shoving a pillow under your hips. His thighs smack into your ass with every plunge of his thick length, and again you can do nothing but try to breathe, drowning in euphoria as you are.

“Yeah, you’re best just like this. Stuffed full of cock, no room for thoughts. Or arguments.”

“F-fuck!” You were trying to say ‘fuck off’ but Hyunjin chose that moment to thumb at your clit, giving the aching nub the friction it so badly needed. Your hips buck up, making Hyunjin groan.

“Just like that, so good for me.”

You whine involuntarily at his praise, hips lifting again, trying to take him deeper. Every stroke of his cock lights you up, your body tingling from head to toe. The strong thrumming in your gut is going to overtake you soon and you’re finally going to get what you’ve been needing for weeks now. And it’s Hyunjin of all people who is going to give it to you.

You’re pulled out of your reverie as Hyunjin suddenly pulls out, falling onto his side next to you.

“What are y- oh!” You gasp as he turns you on your side, facing away from him. One hand lifts your leg, sliding it back until your calf loops over his. Then he enters you again, and again, thrusting in deep, powerful movements. “Oh, fuck, goddamn.”

“That’s right,” he growls, arm beneath you bending, hand coming to a rest around your throat. Not squeezing, but holding you in place, back pressed to his front. You’re both covered in sweat, bodies gliding over one another, making it hard for him to keep his pace. So his fingers spread on your chest, locking you in place, giving him leverage to pound into you. “Take it, sweetheart. Take what I give you like a good girl.”

“Ahhh,” you moan, “don’t - don’t call me that.”

“No? You don’t like being praised?” Hyunjin releases his hold on your thigh, running his others fingers around where his cock keeps sliding between your lips. “Your pussy tells me another story. You’re soaking my sheets.”

“Nah - ah - not that, ’s not that.” With this slightly slower rhythm, you’re able to speak, but full sentences still seem hard. “Like praise. Hate - hate good girl.”

“Ohhh, I see.” Hyunjin laughs breathily. “I should’ve known. You’re too proud. Think it makes you look weak if I call you that? Hmm?”

Even in your desperate state, you know he’s not far off from the truth. You don’t want him calling you that, because it feels like giving in to him. Letting him take control completely. Possessing you. His good girl.

The real, honest to god truth is - you can’t let him call you that, because you do want it. And you hate how much you want it.

So you deny it. Or at least, you try to. But all you can stutter is a weak “You’re s-such a d-dick,” as he continues snapping his hips into your ass, making your entire body jiggle in his strong grip.

Hyunjin drops an open-mouthed kiss to your shoulder, wet and sloppy. You curl your fingers into his arm as you sense that you’re approaching the precipice of your orgasm. You can tell that it’s going to be an intense one, one of those climaxes that clears your mind of all thought and leaves you literally shaking in ecstasy. Just as he’d promised.

You do appreciate a man who follows through on his promises.

Hyunjin must feel the way you’re starting to clench around him, groaning into your shoulder. “Ahh, I think this little cunt’s trying to tell me something again, sweetheart. You gonna come for me? Hmmm?” His fingers rub over your clit, the sudden touch making you jolt. “Come on, be a good girl and c-”

Twisting your head, you smash your nose into his cheek, clumsily seeking his mouth. Cutting him off with heated kisses, hoping he’ll interpret it as annoyance fueling your actions and not see it for what it truly is - untamed desire.

A strangled cry passes from Hyunjin’s lips into yours, and with one more tweak to your clit, you come undone. Your body locks up, thighs going rigid, cunt clamping around his cock so fiercely that Hyunjin hisses loudly, forehead resting on the nape of your neck.

“Fuck, you’re so goddamn tight,” he whispers in your ear. Sweat drips from his skin onto yours. “You’re gonna make me come. Is that what you want?”

You can’t answer. You’re gone, completely gone, beyond words, capable of making only the most broken, pathetic sounds, wantonly mewling as slowly grinds into you, cock rubbing against your clenching walls. When your legs start to go slack, he resumes his thrusting, but at a languorous pace, and you’re not sure if he’s trying to go easy on you now that you’re approaching overstimulation, or if he’s trying to slow himself down.

“I think it is what you want. I think you want me to fill this little pussy up with my cum, don’t you? Hmm?” His nose prods at your cheek. “A sweet creampie for my good girl?”

The whine that you let you out is pitifully loud. White hot shame spikes through you, but only for a second, the emotion quickly burnt away by your fervent need.

“Come on, tell me. Tell me you want it.”

“Ahhh!” You gasp as his cock sinks in deeper, hitting your g-spot. It’s almost too much, the delicious drag, and your fingers dig into his arm, nails sinking into his skin. “Fuck!”

“Tell me,” he says again, but this time there’s a plea laced into the command, a desperate edge in his tone that strikes a chord somewhere deep inside you, and suddenly you want to give him anything he needs.

“Hyunjin, I want it, p-please!”

Those are the magic words. Hyunjin groans, his hips falling out of their slow rhythm, jerking erratically as he does exactly what he said, shooting his load deep inside you, moaning your name the entire time. You grip the sheets so hard, you’re afraid you’ll tear them, shoving your hips back against his, riding out his climax with him.

“Pussy’s sucking me dry, sweetheart. So greedy,” he pants, trailing kisses along your neck. “Think it wants more.”

“Hyunjin!” You sob his name again, voice breaking. All it takes is his fingers pinching at your clit and you’re coming again, stomach twitching, breath leaving your body in one big rush.

When your body stops trembling, Hyunjin finally slips out of you, his hand falling away from your cunt. He lets out a tired laugh.

“You can take your nails out of my arm. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Oh.” Your neck burns a little in embarrassment. You hadn’t realized you were still holding on to him so tightly, unconsciously keeping him in place. Keeping him close to you. You relax your grip, and he slides his arms around you further, locking you into his embrace.

It’s… nice, being in Hyunjin’s arms. Really nice. Lying there, in your messy, tired state, you feel rather content.

But the longer you lie there, just breathing together, not speaking, your head starts to fill with thoughts again. Questions. The most pressing being, at what point is he going to kick you out? Because despite everything that just happened, he’s still Hyunjin, and you’re still you, and -

“It’s already started.” Hyunjin hums, lightly shaking you. “I can hear you thinking again.”

Your reflexes kick back in. “It’s just what I do. You should try it some time.”

To your surprise, Hyunjin starts to laugh. You roll over, nose bumping his as you give him a curious look.

“What?”

“You really can’t help yourself, can you?” He brushes a finger over your cheek. “You’ve got a fighter’s instinct. It’s one of the things I admire about you. But maybe, just maybe, you don’t have to fight me all the time?”

You stare at him as you try to make sense of the rather casual confession of admiration he just dropped. Nope. Can’t. Not right now.

“I…” You pause. “Sorry. It’s just a habit.”

He smiles, something genuine that slowly shifts into his familiar smirk, and even as spent as you are, you feel a stirring inside you. “Guess we need to work on that.”

In the morning, you might regret what you say next. But the night’s not over yet. “Maybe you just didn’t fuck me stupid enough yet.”

Hyunjin accepts your challenge with a kiss.

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Taglist: @scoupsjin; @aznstoner; @yourtmblrgirlfriend; @hyunlvrs; @notevenheretbh1; @chrisbangsgalaxy; @dessianna1

#stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids imagines #hyunjin smut #hyunjin x reader #skz imagines #skz x you #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfic #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #stray kids x you #fic: yours for the night

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improbable-outset · 6 months ago

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📄 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐢𝐫

Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

𝐀𝐎𝟑 | 𝐌𝐲 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 | 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6.6k (LMAOOO)

𝐓𝐖 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐖: Post-Divorce, shared custody, injury and stitching in the beginning, heavy angst, arguing, Jealous!Miguel, fall out, mentions of infidelity and pregnancy, EVENTUALLY SMUT, PIV unprotected sex, oral sex (m receiving), cum eating (we’re getting nasty nasty), brief breeding kink

𝐀/𝐍: This is inspired by @yougavemeyourheartyouknow baby daddy AU. I didn’t think this one would get this lengthy but here we are I guess.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Divorce was supposed to bring closure, but for Miguel, it only fuelled a lingering ache for the woman he still loved. Convincing himself that ending the marriage was for your benefit, he didn't realise the depth of his mistake until he saw you moving on.

Miguel hissed when he felt the rubbing alcohol being smeared onto the wound across his abdomen with a cotton pad. A sharp scent of disinfectant wove through the air, tingling his nostrils and it mingled with the faint aroma of coffee you both had earlier.

There he was, perched on the sofa in his ex-wife’s living room, hair damp from sweat as you patch him up after another mission as Spider-Man — an event he never anticipated would happen to him at two in the morning.

“Easy, I’m not going anywhere,” he spattered out as he felt another stinging wave from the alcohol. You gaze up at him from his wound that you were focused on before you spoke.

“Sorry, I thought you had a higher pain tolerance,” you said, dabbing the wound gently.

“I do, but that doesn’t give you license to be rough with me like that,” he mumbled. Despite the divorce, he knew you’d never do anything to hurt him.

You both remained friends as your marriage never worked out between the two of you. You would patch him up whenever he needed it— he would rather have you take care of him just to feel your touch than have a random nurse.

As the blood cleared from the open cut, you could see the gash more visibly now. A villain's blade had slashed across him deep enough to leave a large wound that won’t heal on its own.

“You’re gonna need stitches,” you got up from the seat to go to the bathroom before coming back with your kit. Miguel sank further into the plush cushion of the sofa, feeling the fabric yield under his weight.

His heart twisted with a mix of guilt and gratitude as he watched you tend to his wound. He grimaced slightly at the pinch of the needle on his skin but your hands were delicate, careful not to further damage the delicate area.

He sat still motionless as his eyes were glued to you. It was easy to admire you and how concentrated you were right now. You were always nurturing and wanted the best for people you cared about. Your brows furrowed as you kept working on the cut.

“Jesus Miguel…” you whispered, taking in the sheer size of his cut.

“What?” He asked, tilting his head in mock confusion. “It’s not that bad, you know I’ve had worse. You’ve treated worse than this,”

Even if you were divorced and not together by law, he still cherished these moments with you. You were still the same woman he loved.

Watching you fix him up made him feel like things were almost back to normal again— that he was home and his wife was here to get him back on his feet. Until reality would set in.

“I know. It’s almost like you’re testing your own durability,” there was an obvious worry etched in your voice as you were finishing up stitching his wound. It made his stomach churn with silent longing.

“That cut? You really think that’s a test for durability?” He arched his brow inquisitively. He knew it was a big gash but it was nothing he couldn’t handle.

“That was nothing more than me not paying attention. But this one however…" he pointed to his bruised shoulder, "that was a test for durability. I got smashed through a wall,”

You peered up at him momentarily, a flicker of disturbance in your eyes, before you silently resumed his last stitches.

Silence fell between you as the faint hum of the city filtered through the window, punctured by the occasional sirens and car horns.

“All done,” you announced, leaning back to examine your work.

He sat up from the couch carefully, making sure not to put too much strain on the fresh stitches. “Gracias,”

“Don’t forget to drink your fluids,” you reminded him.

“Sí sí. You sound like an overprotective mother,”

“Well…I just so happen to have a daughter,” you gave a soft smile. Out of everything that had happened in your marriage, he would forever be grateful that you gave him a daughter.

Watching Gabriella grow was a profound blessing that he would never take for granted. Fatherhood had made him learn a lot about himself that he never knew he could harbour, fostering a newfound level of patience and empathy within him.

And now, as Gabriella was approaching her fifteenth birthday, Miguel couldn’t help but reflect on how quickly the years had passed. He would soon be preparing for her quinceañera with you, a milestone that seemed to arrive in a blink of an eye.

“And do you tell her to drink her fluids as much as you tell her papá?” He asked in a slight tease.

“You know I do and I tell her to eat her greens,” you replied, matching his lighthearted tone.

His heart soared at the fond memories. You were always an amazing mother, a role that bloomed naturally from you as soon as you gave birth to your daughter and held her in your arms for the first time.

He didn’t think he could fall for you more until he saw you nurse your baby for the first time with a tender look in your eyes. He hated the fact that he wasn’t there to witness those precious moments of you bonding with your daughter enough when he had the chance to.

“I’m surprised Gabi hasn’t picked up any of your bad habits,”

“Bad habits like what?”

“You know…the irresponsible stuff,” he chuckled, clearly getting a rise out of you. “You should’ve seen her last weekend. She called the guy you’re seeing a ‘cabrón’”

An uneasy tension knotted in chest after he broached the subject of your date, almost like he was dreading to hear what you were going to say.

He was never thrilled about the topic, just as he never was when you spoke about anything to do with other men. However, he didn’t expect to see your face drop, like the topic hit a raw nerve.

“She said that?” You voice was hesitant and he noticed shoulders slump and your brows furrowed.

Either you were uncomfortable with Gabriella’s candid remark towards your date or you didn’t like that she was cursing at her age.

“She did. Look I heard what she said but she’s probably just saying that to sound grown up. She is a teenager and the hormones make them go nuts,”

“Sure I guess,”

“Try not to take it personally,” he reached out to hold your hand and tried to reassure you, even if hearing Gabriella cursing wasn’t the best thing a father should let slide.

“I’m not upset about that,” you droned.

“Your tone says otherwise,”

“There’s something I want to discuss with you,” Your demeanor shifted into something more serious and you were avoiding eye contact with him which made him uneasy. “If I’m going to keep dating him, I can’t patch you up like this anymore,”

Miguel swallowed thickly, processing what you had just told him. “You’re not meaning…”

“Yes,”

He felt an uncomfortable pull in his gut and his heart felt like it was about the leap out of his throat. “You can’t be serious,”

“It won’t be fair on him if I’m still friends with the man I was married to,” Miguel couldn’t help but scoff at that, but he couldn’t call it stupid.

A small part of him knew that you were right. How could any man feel safe when his new woman was still close with her ex-husband, her ex who still loved and pined for her? But he wasn’t going to stand for that.

“And since when did I care if it’s fair on him?” He snapped back.

For a split second, Miguel could feel the cool platinum of the wedding band that he still hasn’t removed from his finger. It served him a bitter reminder that he was still not over you. He hoped you wouldn’t bring it up, especially now.

“This isn’t just about you,” there was a sharpness in your tone when you said that, whether it was intentional or not it still cut deep. You continued to pour salt on the wound as you added on, “Don’t act like you didn’t sign those divorce papers too,”

“Stop it, don’t you think I know that. I was naive to think that a divorce was going to solve anything,” Those damn divorce papers. Thinking about it made the knife that was already stabbing his heart twist further.

If there was anything he regretted the most in life, it would be sitting down in the courtroom and signing those papers that finalised your parting.

Now, he had to watch you go on a date with someone else because he pushed you away. He ran a hand through his disheveled hair, frustration knotting in his chest.

“You know why we had to file the divorce,” you said.

Miguel’s mind went spiraling and he wanted to sink into the floor. He was fully aware that he was the one to blame for this. The long hours he spent away as Spider-Man, the growing distance between the two of you— it all led to a rift that tore you apart.

He initiated the divorce, convinced it was for the best. Your marriage was standing on its last leg and he didn’t want to waste your time.

Even if there was no bad blood between the two of you and you decided to stick to being friends after, it didn’t make things hurt any less. Miguel still craved more of you and he missed his chance when he had it.

But now the consequences of his decision were biting him in the ass and the prospect of his biggest fear was coming to fruition. He couldn’t stop you from dating again and he hated it.

“Even if we do stick to being friends, we’re going to be more distant than we were before,” you further explained.

Miguel stared silently as you stood up from the couch and kept going. Each word uttered from you was punctuated with agony that was piercing his heart. “You’re not going to be able to have me like you used to Miguel, not the way that you want,”

He knew he was starting to be selfish now and he had no right to be jealous when he failed you as a husband. He was fully aware of the point you were making and the logic behind it but he still refused to let it go.

Finally he spoke after a long while, “I’d rather have a part of you than none of you,”

“Do you truly believe that you’ll be satisfied with that in the long run?”

Realistically, no. But he wasn’t going to admit that to you. He didn’t want to be a bystander in your life and witness you bounce back and love someone again that wasn’t him.

But despite that, he still wanted to stay because there was still a small part of him that was grasping onto straws, hoping that you will take him back and you’ll be his again.

But how long could he accept the scraps of you that you’d throw at him before it got too unbearable? It was ironic— the main cause of his wounds that you just patched up right now, the life of Spider-Man, was the reason why you both drifted apart.

“If it wasn’t for our shared custody that’s tying us down, I would’ve said we should’ve cut off a long time ago,”

Those words hurt more than Miguel let on. He rose from the couch and limped towards you, hissing from the sting of the wounds. “Don’t say that, I’m the father of your child—”

“And that’s all you’ll ever be,” Miguel winced internally.

He didn’t know what hurt more, you interjecting or the fact that you only saw him as a co-parent to your daughter. But the latter was definitely going to have a lasting effect on him.

He was going to reach out for you, but you turned your back to him. He had nothing to say now and this could be the last time you would be this warm and open with him.

Without uttering another word, he tapped on his watch to engage his suit before moving towards the window. A moment before he shot his webs to hoist himself away, you spoke one last time.

“You have Gabi for next weekend.”

He merely nodded at your words before he disappeared into the night, swallowing his frustration and disappointment. His web shooters echoed through the streets.

His mood drastically changed the moment he left your comforting apartment to the chaos of Nueva York— it was almost palpable.

His web shot out, catching onto the building he was aiming for. He landed against the wall with a gentle thud before he turned back to look at your apartment from afar. This was going to be the last time he could swing by your apartment through your window freely and his heart was already aching for you.

Miguel headed up to your apartment and rapped at the door. It didn’t take long before he saw Gabriella answering the door to him.

She had a duffle bag full of her clothes for the weekend and her phone was in one hand. He gave her a warm smile and kissed her forehead.

“Ready to go?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she replied casually.

Miguel’s line of sight went past Gabi and further into the house. You weren’t anywhere near the door.

He didn’t know what it was but Miguel felt a pull that was coaxing him to go to you. For a moment, he was conflicted whether or not he should see you. But eventually he caved in to his desires and stepped into the house.

“Where’s you mom?” Miguel asked.

“She’s in the bathroom taking a shower, I think,” Gabi replied before her attention was drawn into her phone screen.

“Stay here. I’ll be back,” Miguel padded over to the bathroom with cautious steps. It had been six months since your friendship had broken off, and he didn’t know what to expect when you saw him in your home.

His palms were sweating, and he could feel every pulse in his body. Part of him thrived off the anticipation that was building up to the moment but the other part was screaming at him to turn back and just leave you alone.

The bathroom door was ajar but the shower wasn’t running. He could see from the gap that you definitely weren’t taking a shower.

He found you sitting in the walk in shower with your knees tucked into your chest. You were wearing a tank top and some sweatpants. He pushed open the door further so he could get a better look at you.

Your eyes looked foggy but he could still see the redness around the rim from crying moments earlier. It almost looked like you were in a dissociative state, and for a moment, he thought you didn’t acknowledge him until you spoke.

“Gabi’s stuff is at the front door,” you mumbled. Your voice sounded hoarse and wavering as if it took extra effort for you to speak.

“Yeah, I saw,” he replied, keeping his response short so he wouldn’t overstep any boundaries. The last thing he wanted was to open the door to more problems.

“So why are you here?”

Miguel didn’t know how to respond without eliciting a negative reaction from you. He didn’t want to tell you the full truth, but he also couldn’t think of an excuse for your question either.

He couldn’t leave your question hanging longer than it already has, so he opened his mouth to speak, even if he didn’t know what to say “I…was just checking Gabi got everything,”

The nagging urge to reach out to you, to touch you, was getting harder to ignore with each passing second he was in your presence.

Seeing you this vulnerable in the bathroom was tormenting and it was not something he was expecting to see. He didn’t know how to inquire about your well-being without sounding invasive.

“Are you okay?”

Clearly not. You shook your head mutely. At least you were being honest. Miguel cleared his throat before he asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“It’s pathetic,”

“It’s not pathetic if it got you crying like that,”

Seeing you on the bathroom floor like this sent him back fifteen years earlier where you were in the same position, except you didn’t look so ghostly.

Both of you were holding each end of the pregnancy test, nervousness etched in both of your faces as you anticipated for the results.

Miguel gave your hand a reassuring squeeze feeling the clammy warmth of your skin against his. Your eyes remained glued to the test in front of you, time seemingly slowing to a crawl.

The moment you saw the double lines appear, you broke down into tears and sobbed into his chest from pure joy. Miguel’s heart stuttered as he wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly.

The news that you were going to be parents cremated his love for you even more. You couldn’t stop crying and wouldn’t release him that night— your grip was like titanium.

He didn’t mind carrying you to bed though, the weight of you in his arms grounding him in a sense of euphoria that washed over him now.

Seeing you now, so different yet so achingly familiar, brought a lump to his throat. He heard your voice again and was brought back to the present.

“He…” the word was lodged in your throat. Miguel could feel a tinge of rage brewing in him with a mixture of his protective instincts. He knew you were talking about your current boyfriend the moment the word left your lips.

“He cheated,” you stated. Miguel's anger flared and he balled his fist tightly, struggling to contain the rolling emotions threatening to spill out. Even if he didn’t show his anger outwardly, you still knew him well enough to pick up on the signs.

“Please I’m begging you, don’t do anything rash. I’ll heal from this, but the last thing I want is you getting involved,” he heard your plea, and seeing your upset expression made him push aside his heated thoughts.

He was inadequate when it came to being your devoted husband, so what made him believe that he could be your hero in this situation.

He didn’t want to do anything that would further upset you; he had already overstepped your boundaries by trying to reconnect with you.

But now that you’ve broken things off with your boyfriend, could this be an opportunity to rekindle your friendship? Maybe something more. He didn’t want to get his hopes up.

His heart was trying to root him to stay but his intuition was tugging at him to go. It was clear that you didn’t want to talk about it further with him.

As much as it bothered him, there was nothing he could do. After all, you were a grown woman, and you were free to keep things to yourself.

You didn’t owe him anything even if he was your ex-husband— if anything that was probably more reasons why you shouldn’t share anything with him.

“I think I should be getting going, Gabi’s waiting,” he turned around and reached for the door, trying to conceal his disappointment.

“Wait—” you called out. He halted. “Are you planning to do anything later?”

“Uh…no. Why?”

“Do you want to stay for dinner?” You asked meekly. He mulled it over for a moment. He suspected that you didn’t want to be alone after what you’ve experienced and he was glad that he was the one that could keep you company.

“If it would make you feel better, then of course,” his tone was warmer and his muscles relaxed at the thought of spending an evening with you.

There was still that underlying anger he felt towards you ex who had the galls to betray you like that behind your back.

But that was overshadowed by the newfound seed of hope that was planted in his heart— that things might get better between the two of you.

You rose up from the shower floor and washed your tear stained face before you both got out of the bathroom together.

Miguel felt the rush of wind brushing past him as he swung over from building to building to get to his destination. His movements were fueled by determination and yearning.

It wasn’t long until he could see the soft glow of your bedroom light filtering through the curtains. He paused outside of your apartment, contemplating how things would turn out. What was he doing here? What was he hoping to achieve? All he knew was that he couldn’t stay away no matter how hard he tried.

With a sigh, he slipped into the open window and pushed past the curtains. He found you settled on your bed with the bedside lap on. You glanced at him, showing that you had acknowledged him but you didn’t give him your full attention.

“Gabi’s staying over at my parents’ house,” you said dismissively. Part of him was glad that Gabi wasn’t around— he didn’t want her to witness how vulnerable he was right now and the tension between her parents.

“I’m not here for Gabi,” he replied, his voice steady but his heart racing.

The apartment felt different than normal— almost hollow even though nothing much had changed physically the last time he was here. Maybe the feeling was from the absence of warmth between the two of you

“Do you need me to patch you up again?” You asked incredulously, still not looking at him.

“I’m not here for that either,”

Finally, you look back at him, waiting to see what he had to say.

It took a few seconds before he could trust himself to speak again, but to him it felt like a lifetime. The words he had rehearsed mentally over and over finally spilled.

“I came here to apologise, for everything. I neglected you and wasn’t there for you when you needed me. I thought I was doing the right thing, but I see now how much I’ve hurt you,”

There was an uncomfortable silence that stretched out for a while. Your face was unreadable, blank of any emotion and Miguel couldn’t tell what was going through your head. There wasn’t even a twitch in your expression that he could pick up on.

“Now he says he’s sorry,” your voice carried a bitterness that threw him off. You climbed off your bed and took a few steps away, facing your back to him.

Miguel’s heart sank in disbelief.

“Are you really going to give me the cold shoulder now?” He climbed down the windowsill and stepped further into your room towards you. “Look, I know it’s a late apology, but I need you to understand how much I regret pushing you away. Please just hear me out,”

“Do you have any idea how much you hurt me? You left me alone. You were never there, always busy in another dimension or saving the multiverse while our marriage fell apart.”

“I was trying to protect you!” His voice escalated in volume. “Everything I did, I did it for you and Gabi,”

“Protect me?” You scoffed. “By pushing me away? All you did was made me feel like I wasn’t important enough to fight for,”

Miguel gritted his teeth, feeling his frustration surfacing. “You think I didn’t suffer? Every time I left, it tore me apart. But I thought it was something I had to do,”

“You thought wrong,”

Suddenly all those gloomy memories came rushing to him like a tidal wave. He could see the images of your lonely silhouette sitting at the dining table, waiting for a husband who never came home.

The empty bed that felt colder each night he wasn’t there.

The guilt that had been lingering since the divorce now crashed down like a storm on him, suffocating him.

“I know I made mistakes and I didn’t prioritise our marriage. But I never stopped loving you, not for a second,” He said, his voice softened, almost in a pleading manner.

“Really?” You said, your tone cutting. “Did seeing me move on and go on another date make you suddenly come to your senses?”

Miguel’s jaw clenched at that. He didn’t like that you saw him that way but he couldn’t blame you for coming to that conclusion. “That’s not fair, I was trying to do what’s best for us. I didn’t want to hold you back,”

“You didn’t want to hold me at all, Miguel. Do you really think that you could swing by into my apartment and fix everything with an apology?”

“No…” He shook his head, running a hand through his hair before his voice lowered, “But I would regret it everyday if I didn’t try. Losing you was the biggest mistake of my life,”

His mind was racing, remembering the warmth of you embracing and how you would fit perfectly together. “I miss the way we used to be, I missed the way you would melt in my arms, I miss coming home to you,”

“Kiss me,”

“What?” He gave you a puzzled look. “After everything that I’ve done to you, you want me to kiss you?”

“If you’re really sorry, you would kiss me,”

Miguel hesitated— his mind was conflicted, torn between his guilt and your command. For a moment he didn’t move, studying your face to see if you had an ulterior motive to all of this. Was this a test or a chance at redemption?

But eventually, he caved in and leaned in until his lips met yours. The kiss was soft and gentle at first as he was holding back from overwhelming you.

His lips slowly parted, and he softly whispered into your mouth. “I’m so sorry,”

He heard you moan softly in response and his chest clenched. He couldn’t believe he had that much of an effect on you just from a kiss.

His hands reached over to the back of your head firmly before his lips pressed hard on your lips, not wanting to miss a single moment of you were sharing.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,”

You clung onto him, your kiss hungry and desperate, as if trying to erase all the pain and distance between the two of you.

After everything you’ve been through, you’ve still had a tight grip on him, and it was killing him little by little. But he would happily give himself to you without a second thought.

He pulled away and his lips trailed over your jaw. All the hostility from you melted away as he continued to kiss over your face and neck. He could visibly sense the tension easing from your body as your breath hitched.

He pulled his face away from your neck to look at you in the eyes. “Needy,”

“Says you,”

“Yeah? I’m not the one who asked to be kissed though,”

“You and I both know that you wanted it just as much as I did,”

“Hmm maybe. Do you know what else I want?”

“I might have an idea,” you finished off your sentence by grinding your hips against his own. He let out a stuttered moan at the touch before a smile crept across his face.

So shameless.

He felt the heat creeping to his groin and translating to a growing erection. His dick was painfully hard now and you continued to grind your hips, using his erection to get more friction.

His face heated up when he heard your desperate whines. You were so needy for him right now and that was only stroking his ego.

He pulled away from your embrace and disengaged his suit with his watch to reveal his nude body in its full glory— his throbbing dick was the most prominent view.

He saw you gawking at the precum that was spilling from the tip— an amused smile played on your lips before you looked back up at him. “Look who’s needy now.”

Hearing your smug remark brought him a wave of nostalgia, something he missed when making love to you. But it also ignited something in him— a growing desire to take you and make you eat your words.

He grasped onto the hem of your silky nightgown and pulled them up so he could reach to your undies to pull them down. Swiftly, he lifted your legs up and wrapped them around his waist before effortlessly pinned you against the wall.

He knew he was being desperate and skipping most of the foreplay tonight, but he didn’t care. He needed to feel you clench around him, his body will hate him if he delayed it longer.

Positioning himself against your folds, he could already feel your wetness paint his tip. You were soaked just for him and only him— just how it should be.

He pushed himself in and your mouth hung from the overwhelming stretch from his dick. Feeling the grip you had was almost enough to knock the winds out of him. He halted when he was halfway, gauging the sight of you.

A sense of familiarity washed over him when he saw your face warp while struggling to take him in. Your brows were furrowed and your mouth was agape, slowly drowning in the bliss he was giving you.

You let out a startled moan when he slammed the rest of him in with a lewd slap.

“Go slow…please. I need time to adjust,” you breathed, voice coming out staggered. He kissed the corner of your mouth in acknowledgment. He dragged himself out before rolling his hips in, keeping a steady rhythm so he wouldn’t make you uncomfortable.

It was easier to feel and hear how wet you were with his slow and shallow pace. He had been yearning for this moment for too long and now that he could finally have you like this, everything felt more intense.

You were finally his again and it almost felt too good to be real.

He rested his forehead against you, watching through his hazy eyes how responsive you were to him and picking up every micro expression.

The room filled with your soft moans as he kept thrusting into you. Your labored breaths merged with your lips inches away. He could feel his peak crawling in and he made sure to reach the deepest part of your crevice before he unraveled inside you.

Having his release fill you up again was dizzying. Carefully, he put you back down onto your feet again and you leaned onto his chest for stability until you regained your balance.

He kept holding you close with his body pressing flushed against yours and catching your breaths in silence. A short moment passed before you looked up at him.

“Let me taste you, please.” You said. It wasn’t a question. Hearing the way you requested that in such a sultry way made his cock twitch and he was whipped all over again.

He could feel the heat rush to his cock and his erection forming. “You want a taste? How can I say no?”

He pulled himself away from you and perched on your bed, spreading his thighs to display is dick standing on its end. He let out a sharp exhale as he watched you go down on your knees for him and settled between his legs.

Miguel tensed when he felt your hand clasped around his length, grappling onto the bed sheet to steady himself. The after effect of his previous climax was still tingling and coursing through him.

“Easy…don’t overdo it,” he muttered, his hip stuttered slightly.

You look up at him and he could feel a new string of precum drawing out from the tip. “Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle,”

Your tongue grazed along the tip, and you were collecting your own wetness that coated his dick from earlier along with his precum. You were so eager and yet so gentle, it was overwhelming.

You were too good and it was getting to his head. Everything about you was enticing. You gave the head of his cock a few kitten licks and he let out a groan, his hand reaching over to the back of your head.

It took every fiber of him not to buck his hip and shove him all the way into your mouth. He had to squeeze his eyes shut when he felt the warmth of your mouth around the tip. He let out another pleasurable moan, arching into your touch.

The sensitivity in his body continued to soar through him and the feeling of your mouth was enough to drive him up the walls.

You’re so good. How are you always so good at this.

More precum beaded up from his tip and gently leaked down into your mouth— he heard you hum from the taste. You lowered your head until you had his full length in his mouth.

His eyes fly open from the sudden sensation and he looked down to see you eying up at him. You carried a soft look in you eyes even while doing something lascivious. It was enough to disarm the coldest of souls; he couldn’t help but caress your cheeks right now.

“Eres tan hermosa en este momento,” he mumbled, still in a hazy trance. His nerves were firing and he threw his head back, getting lost in the pleasure you were giving him.

Before he could register it, he was shaking and trembling when his orgasm came crashing down again. Ropes and ropes of his jizz squirted into your mouth. His eyes were unfocused, and it took him several deep breaths before he could find his voice again.

“Ay por dios…”

He still felt sparks from his high and his mind was absolutely buzzed. The lewd sound of you swallowing him down send a shiver crawling down his spine and his stomach fluttering.

His head dropped against the pillows from exhaustion, still panting. He felt the bed shift when you lie besides him and nussled against his chest.

“You’ll be the death of me,” he confessed, kissing the crown of your head.

“I can still taste you,” you teased. He responded lift your chin up to look at him and caught your lips in a gentle kiss. He was insatiable and he didn’t want to stop feeling your touch after having been deprived of it for so long.

He was quick to slip his tongue into your mouth and map out the familiar heat that he loved so much. The taste of himself was barely lingering in your mouth.

His mind was spinning from everything— the taste of your lips, the smell of your arousal and the sound of your low moans as he kissed you deeper.

All the little ways you responded to him was enough to give him the energy to turn you over on your stomach. His straddling on your back and his hard on sat at the base of your rear, between each globe of your cheeks.

“Hard again, eh?,” you quipped, turning your head to look at him.

But your demeanor quickly shifted when he began to push himself in, keeping his pace measured and slow. You started gripping and kneading the sheet from the feeling and muffled your moans into the pillow.

“Don’t hide from me,” he muttered, leaning in before his teeth nipped at your earlobe. You lifted your head from the pillow instinctively, letting out a startled noise.

He continued to slide himself in and out of you while simultaneously kiss along the curse of your neck from behind— each thrust was measured and calculated so you’d feel everything from him.

“Do I make you feel good, amor?” He moaned in your ear before he started to build a faster rhythm. Your noises became more urgent and he could tell you were desperately chase your high.

Each thrust pushed you further into the sheet. A guttural moan ripped from you as you clenched around him and reached your impending climax. He felt your come around him, taking him closer to the edge.

He pulled out momentarily, turning you around so you lied on your back and rested your legs on his shoulders. He didn’t give you a chance to prepare before he bottomed out.

He started thrusting inside you with little to no exit before hand. He didn’t pull his cock all the way but rather dragged himself slightly back before slamming back in relentlessly. The rough pace only milked more moans and sweet noises out of you, encouraging him to keep going.

Your voice was becoming frantic mixed with your moans and he almost missed when you spoke.

“Breed me,”

It took a moment for the words to register in your head and he felt his mind go hazy from your request. It wasn’t a question, but an order. You wanted this more than anything. His thought were filled of you, being bred by him and carrying another child and marking you as his again.

“Make me a mami again,”

This gave him extra motivation now. Each time, his thrusts became more and more sporadic and losing it’s rhythm. The bed creaked in protest from his pace. With one final stroke, he pushed as much of himself inside you and filled you up with your seeds again.

But he wasn’t done. He pulled himself away so he could slip two fingers into your swollen pussy. He gathered the remnants of your shared release onto the pad of his fingers before he held them near your mouth.

Pressing his thumb against your lower lip, he gently lowered it down and watched in awe as you opened your mouth. He pressed his fingers in so you could get a taste and let out a low groan, feeling your mouth suckle on the cum that was clinging onto his fingers.

“Can you taste how good we are together, amor?”

He kept watching you intently until he slipped his fingers out and reached over to kiss your forehead. You look spend and your breathing became laboured.

Miguel perched onto the bed besides you again, gulping to moisture his dry mouth. He had spent so many nights alone, haunted by the nights of his decision that led to your divorce.

Being in bed with you alone, naked and drenched in the afterglow felt surreal. He didn’t think he would ever experience this again.

“Have I told you that I never stopped loving you,” he whispered with raw emotions. Even if he did already tell you, he wanted you to know that he meant every word. It was never about falling out of love but rather about protecting you and his daughter— his family.

Your eyes met his. “I know. But love wasn’t enough to keep us together,”

“I know that now. But I want to make things right, if you let me,” The air that was static with tension was now starting to flourish with new possibilities.

“I don’t know if things will be back to the way they were, but let’s take it a step at a time,” you kissed his mouth.

You pulled away and rose from the bed. “But I want to take a shower first, care to join me?”

He gave you a mischievous look and he was liking where this was going. “Lead the way, cariño,”

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: @maiyart @lazyjellyfish300 @mrsoharaa @truth-dare-spin-bottles @farrowroyale

@amberbalcom14 @blvd-sourz @bluesidez @slushycoookie @prettygirleli

@saintdiior @peachipeachy @xyziiix @mybvalentine @c4rm1son

@annavatar @scaryplanetdestroyer

You know normally in a situation where the character gets back with reader, you’d expect them to get all possessive and primal and whatnot. I didn’t want to showcase that dominant dynamics here. Not my cup of tea ewewew I kinda liked that I got reader to tease Miguel too and they still had their back and forth even after everything

Ayrus xoxo

#★— ayrus writes #♦︎— sinful encounters #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara spiderman 2099 #miguel o’hara fanfiction #spiderman 2099 x you #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 spiderverse #miguel spiderman #spiderman 2099 #spiderman miguel

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