One Of The Key Points Of Trauma Recovery Is Learning To Let Go The Idea Of Getting Back To “who I

one of the key points of trauma recovery is learning to let go the idea of getting back to “who i was before”. your trauma has shaped you and that’s okay. recovery is learning how to live with what happened rather than getting rid of it, even if that feels impossible at the moment

dior girl ✰ park jimin

Park Jimin is one of a kind. When he wants something, he gets it, no matter how hard it can be. He's not scared to get his hands dirty. If he had any morals, maybe he'd consider his obsession with you getting out of hands. But this man has absolutely no morals.

୨୧ pairing: designer!jimin x model/fem!reader

୨୧ genre: strangers to lovers, age gap (21 & 38), smut, slight angst

୨୧ word count: 8.1k

୨୧ warnings: unrealistic depiction of the fashion industry, alcohol consumption & mention of drugs use, manipulation & corruption, jimin isn't a good person (especially not to oc lol <3), violent sexual thoughts, jimin's a sadist (my fav headcannon :D), heavy dom/sub dynamics, hard dom!jimin, unprotected vaginal & anal sex, anal play (use of a buttplug), my new headcannon: jimin likes giving anal, dacryphilia, praising & degradation, oral sex (m), face fucking, aftercare ig because yes jimin's a sadist but he still has a heart.

a.n.: yup so idk if you guys were expecting that... but i did say none of the characters were ethical lmfao so 🤷🏻‍♀️ i really, really hope you like the first part, i've worked hard on it even though it's not super long. so please, reblog and tell me what you thought about it! <3 as always, don't like, don't read.

[dior girl moodboard] ["older" masterlist]

His studio is his sanctuary. It's the only place in the world he can spend hours in without even noticing the moon setting or the sun rising. In his studio it feels like the time doesn't exist or that it's just a futile detail that doesn't have much importance.

When he's creating a piece, nothing around him matters. The only things he's willing to give attention to are the placements of the needles on the fabric, the little lines that form the pattern of the clothing, and the way his scissors cut through the satin material of the dress he's designing.

He's thought about this design for so long and he finally got the opportunity to make it. He's thought about the colours of the dress and also of the seam, about the length of the hem and the sleeves, how deep the neckline should be and if lace would be suitable.

He doesn't even recall how many sketches he's made of the dress. At some point it was consuming his entire mind, this dress the only design he could draw and think of.

Now that he's finally creating it, he has the feeling that it's going to be the best piece he's ever made. He already sees everyone talking about it, saying how much of a genius Park Jimin is. It's going to be the design of the year — of the century.

He still misses something, though, and it might be the most important part of the design. He needs a model, the perfect body to wear his piece and present it to the fashion world.

It can't be anybody, it must be someone who's confident, who always has their head up and who radiates elegance and sports a unique beauty.

Jimin still hasn't found this person. He constantly searches for them, but never finds them or when he thinks that he has, he discovers flaws he cannot unseen.

All the Dior models are great, but not enough. They don't spark anything in Jimin when he watches them strode down the catwalk. He's checked upon the apprentices and the newer models the company has hired, but he saw no one extraordinary.

Until today.

He hears steps against the wooden floor of his studio, entering the place without knocking. "Ah, there he is!" A manly voice exclaims, Jimin immediately recognizes it as his friend's, Sungwoon. "I have someone to introduce you."

Jimin raises his gaze up from his working table and looks at Sungwoon who's accompanied by a beautiful, young woman. He's then suddenly interested, contrary to usual where he doesn't really care about the many girls Sungwoon brings, claiming each one as the new phenomenon of the fashion industry.

When Jimin turns around, he eyes you up and down, barely glimpsing in Sungwoon's way. It's all it takes, one simple glance and he knows you're the one he needs — the one he wants and has to ruin.

Sungwoon introduces you both and when your name is pronounced by the man, sounding so charming and delicate, he's certain you're the model he had been waiting for since a long time.

You seem shy, arms locked behind your back, but you stand up straight and have a polite smile drawn on your face.

"I thought maybe you'd like to get to know each other, right?" Sungwoon raises his eyebrows in Jimin's direction. "Everyone's fond of her," he smiles and pats your back, encouraging you to speak up.

"Thanks," you smile back at Sungwoon before glancing back at Jimin who still hasn't looked away from you. "I've been a big fan of your work since I was a little kid, Mr. Park. You've inspired me to become a model."

The way you say his name has his cock twitching in his pants, filthy thoughts of him spanking your butt while you cry his name invading his mind.

He can sense your vulnerability, your willingness to submit. Who would he be to deny you that? Him, who is so eager to dominate the ones he's attracted to, to break but also repair them.

He knows it when someone's fragile, hiding their weaknesses under fake confidence. He doesn't know you, but he recognizes the pattern almost instantly. What can be broken can also be repaired and you're asking him to break you.

"I'm glad to hear that," Jimin says politely, a slight smile tugging on his lips. He's not the type to smile — stretch the corner of his mouth upward to imitate the person in front of him, he finds it useless. But for you, he'll do it, just so you trust him because you're so desperate to give yourself to the opposite sex.

"Park, you were wondering who'd be part of the fall show this year," Sungwoon begins, looking at you like you're the most irradiant ruby in the world. "Well, you have her in front of you." You giggle softly at the man's words, nodding your head at him and then looking at Jimin as if waiting for some praises.

Jimin faintly smiles, seeing your eyes glimmering and he curses himself for not finding you first. You'd have been his by now, his to praise, to kiss, to fuck, to destroy. But he swears, if he happens to break you, he'll gratefully keep you safe close to him.

๑♡՞

T H E N

"Careful," Jimin softly says as he catches you up from falling on the floor. You let out a high pitched laugh, as if all of this is a big joke, and push him back with a hand on his chest.

"I'm fine," you answer, shrugging him off with a flip of your hand. You stagger from left to right, leaning against the wall when you almost fall a second time. You laugh it off again, halting your steps.

Jimin looks at you with a cringe expression, eyeing the people behind, sporting worried looks on their faces.

You all went out after the show; models, designers, directors, stylists... everyone. It wasn't your plan to get drunk, Jimin knows that because you're not supposed to drink alcohol since you're on a very strict diet. A glass from time to time isn't so bad, but your consumption clearly surpassed just one glass tonight.

It's not really your fault, though. Technically yes, since you're the one who swallowed all of the glasses of wine, but you had a little help.

A little help from Jimin himself.

When you weren't looking, he poured more alcohol in your glass and to his satisfaction you've noticed nothing and gulped everything. Sure, you got a bit suspicious, wondering how you had only drank so little when you remembered swallowing more than that.

But Jimin assured you it was only your first glass, so you drank, and drank, and drank... Until you were more than tipsy.

You've received nasty looks from your colleagues, especially the other models who weren't drinking a single drop of wine, and yet, still weren't awarded with the status of the 'face of Dior'. How ironic that the drunkest girl in the room was the face of Dior and the little protégée of Mr. Park.

Years and years of training, countless sleepless nights, meals that are as nutritious as birds seed... All of the efforts in the world to have your biggest dream stolen by a model who is in the industry for less than six months.

Their rage is understandable, but Jimin couldn't care less. In fact, everything is going as planned and he can't fuck things up now. No, because if he does, all of the things he has done until now will be completely irrelevant.

"I'll... I'll bring her to our room, you can go out without us," Jimin announces, watching you sit down on the floor in the middle of the corridor.

"Will she be okay?" A stylist asks.

"Of course. I'll take care of her."

He waits for everyone to be gone before he gets you up from the floor and leads you both to your hotel room. When you're in the room, he sits you down on the bed.

You don't say anything as he takes off his jacket and loosens his tie. He crouches down in front of you to remove your heels and he does the same with his shoes, leaving them at the entry.

When he comes back, he sees you quietly crying, the features of your face contorting into a sad expression. You've slightly sobered up, harshly coming back to reality, realizing how much you've embarrassed yourself tonight.

"What did I do?" You ask, looking up at him with teary eyes. "I fucked up, didn't I?"

Jimin sits down beside you, lifting your head up with his index under your chin and his thumb over it. "There's nothing that can't be repaired," he states in a soft voice, so low it sounds like a sweet whisper — a secret, a confession only you can hear. "Right?"

You sniff, wiping your tears away. You nod your head in agreement, slightly reassured, hoping Jimin will fix your mistakes. Your foolish mistakes, done by the carefree of a twenty-one year old.

"Shh, baby, shh," he softly murmurs, cradling your head in his hands and gently laying your face against his chest. You wrap your arms around his waist, hugging him tighter and tighter til suffocation.

He strokes your hair delicately, placing a sweet and warm kiss on the top of your head.

Someone as vulnerable as you contains a lot of emotions. He has to deal with them, which doesn't bother him at all. He wants you the way you are; sad and pitiful.

"Everything's going to be fine," he promises, but it's not entirely the truth. Not everything will be fine, though it'll be in the end, he thinks — he hopes.

You eventually pull away from his embrace, just enough to look at him. It seems like you're searching for something or maybe waiting for something, your eyes desperately staring at Jimin as if his simple presence will make all of your problems fly away.

You throw yourself at him and kiss him on the lips, fingers pulling on the hair at the nape of his neck. He reciprocates it, knowing you like your kisses sloppy and messy, wanting Jimin everywhere on you to remind you that he's always there.

You bring him closer, crumpling the material of his white shirt between your fists, moaning and whining as your teeth clash together at how roughly you kiss each other.

Jimin breaks your exchange first, both catching your breaths. His eyes observe you quietly as you look at him like you're still waiting for something.

"Did you do what I told you to?" He questions you, referring to your conversation of a few days when you came to his studio to try on his dress.

You were a bit stressed out, putting on the clothing like you were scared you'd rip it. He still remembers the way the satin was sliding up your body, hugging your waist and ass perfectly. He was baffled at how incredibly well it suited you as if he had made it exactly for you.

And maybe it was made for you, after all.

Because when he saw his creation on you, he knew you had to wear it for the runway. It has to be you, he'll accept no one else.

Jimin will make you walk the runway wearing his dress — the last time you'll ever step on the catwalk. After that, he'll keep you away from the rest of the world. He'll refuse anyone to see you because you're going to be his.

His forever.

"Yes," you nod your head, trapping your bottom lip between your teeth.

"Tell me what you did," Jimin softly demands, holding your chin in his hand, mouths inches away from each other.

You're too shy to say it out loud and that's why he wants you to tell him. Also to be sure you did everything correctly, but mainly because he wants to see you embarrassed.

"I prepared myself for you..." You begin, holding eye contact even though you feel your face heating up just thinking about all the things you've done per his request. "I... I used lube both on me and... the toy," you continue in a shy tone, so low Jimin wouldn't hear you if he wasn't so close.

"Where on you, sweetheart?" He interrupts, wanting each detail, each little thing you normally wouldn't have done if it wasn't for him. And all while thinking of him.

You swallow, "On my ass, Jimin," you answer in a whisper. "I stretched it out for you, using the toy like you told me," you finally admit.

"Good girl," Jimin purrs. "Let me see it then."

You proceed to strip off of your dress, now used to be nude in front of him, and slide your panties down your thighs, discarding them away on the floor.

You get back up on the mattress and position yourself on all fours close to the edge of the bed. Jimin stands up and goes behind you to have a closer look at your ass.

His veiny hands pull your cheeks apart, revealing your rim to his insatiable, sadistic eyes. You glance over your shoulder, curious of what he has in mind and what he has prepared for you.

You softly gasp when he spits and lets the globe of spit drip down between your asscheeks, rolling over your puckered hole. You clench around nothing, relieved to have his attention, to finally feel his hands on you instead of the usual touch of yours.

He sees that your ass is a bit looser than the last time he saw it, but it still clearly needs more preparation to welcome his girthy cock — though it's not like he cares that much if you're prepped enough or not.

He passes his thumb over your tight muscle, circling it and smearing his saliva over it. He wants to fuck it so bad, destroy it and do unbelievably violent things to you. Should he tonight? Should he show you his dark and evil side?

He's choked you before — smacked your ass hard til you felt your skin stings, overstimulated you to the point your orgasms were just spasms passing through your body, fucked your throat while you were drooling all over yourself, and tied your legs and wrists together to restrict your movements.

So fucking your ass can't be that bad, but the thing is Jimin wants it to be bad. He then wonders what would happen if the line is ever crossed. Would you endure it, would you defend yourself? Would you shut the fuck up and take it like you're asked to?

But you trust him so much — with all your pathetic being — and he thinks you'd let him cross any lines he desires to. He probably already has crossed multiple lines, and being the poor, sad girl that you are, you said nothing.

You truly are extraordinary.

He gives a slight slap to one of your asscheeks, groping both of them after, feeling how soft and tender your flesh is. "You did good, sweetheart," he comments in a honeyed voice that has you mewling, sounding so smooth and sweet. "How about we play with it a little?"

He lifts up a brow at you and you nod sheepishly, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip. "Yes..."

"Great," he says in a low tone, running his hands one last time over your ass before going to take something from his suitcase.

"What is it?" You question, your curious eyes landing on the small object he's holding.

Jimin brings the object to you, something made of metal, the end having the shape of a cone and a pink gem placed on the top. "A gift for my princess," he replies, opening the bottle of lube he brought as well.

He applies some lube around your tight hole and on the butt plug, and carefully pushes the head of the toy in your ass. You gasp softly, feeling it slowly stretch you out, sinking in gradually as Jimin holds your cheeks apart.

"Mmh, feels good, Sir," you moan, arching your back and pushing your butt closer to Jimin.

When the plug is all the way in, the pink gem peeking out between your two globes of flesh, he smacks your other cheek, making it jiggle from the harsh hit.

"Is that so, dirty girl?" He wonders, gripping your hips and colliding his hips with your butt, sensing his big bulge pulsing under his pants. "You like it when your little ass gets stretched out?"

"I like everything you do to me," you say with a content sigh, pussy clenching around nothing as your ass gets used to the small butt plug.

Jimin genuinely thinks he can't find better than you. You were so shy in the beginning, looking like a lost puppy wherever you went. You just needed someone bigger and older to show you the way — though you were too dumb, and still are, to realize he was leading you to the wrong path.

It's not like you seem to mind, anyway.

After all, you both got what you wanted; you, male attention, someone to rely on and be protected by, and him, a woman to break and keep with him forever.

He lets go of your hips to unbuckle his belt, pulling the leather material out of the gold loop with the luxury Dior logo on it. He lets the two ends of the belt hang off, not bothering to remove it completely, and tucks the fly of his pants down.

He finally frees his cock from the confines of his boxers, springing up and slapping against his stomach, the bit of pre-cum escaping from his tip dampening his shirt.

"You're so good to me, princess," he praises as he wraps a hand around the base of his engorged cock, aching and begging to be nestled in your cute little pussy.

His head pushes at your entrance, never fully entering, only teasing your hole and stimulating all of your sensitive nerves. He watches how his cock stretches your cunt, your walls expending to receive his bulbous tip and then closing down when he pulls out.

"Sir, please, want more," you beg him, pushing your ass on him to have his dick back in you. You let out a little whimper when Jimin holds your hips in place, stopping you from wiggling your butt side to side against his thick cock.

He hums and slaps your ass harshly, your skin stinging after. "Want my cock in your needy little pussy, baby? Is that what you're crying for?" He asks, teasing even more by swiping the head of his penis between your pussy lips, a string of your arousal sticking to his angry tip.

"Yes," you say back quickly and desperately, arching your back, literally presenting yourself to Jimin. "Been so good, don't I deserve it, Sir?" You softly murmur, still looking over your shoulder to see his gaze fixated on your quivering pussy, cock head sliding up and down over your sex.

"You do..." He responds distractedly, licking his plump lips, his fingers touching the pink gem peeking out from your ass. You're always so good and obedient for him, he even wonders if you ever did something that genuinely pissed him off before.

When he really sinks in, his head passing the barrier of your sweet pussy, he groans deeply, feeling your walls deliciously enveloping his hard cock tightly.

You moan in unison as he bottoms out in you, his balls touching your wet and warm pussy. He bends his back over yours, running his hand up your spine, feeling all the little bumps of it until he reaches your head and shoves it against the mattress.

You whine when he starts pounding into you, his girth stretching you out so well, leaving you panting and moaning loudly. His other hand holds your hip against his dick, fingers digging into your skin, leaving permanent marks on your body — as well as on your mind and your soul.

He already sets a hard and rapid pace — fucking is never soft or loving with Jimin, it's violent, long, and agonizing. It's a way to be himself, the real and dark version of himself he hides in public and releases when he gets intimate with you.

You surprisingly got accustomed to it, embracing it as if it was your destiny, the reason for your existence; to be his personal slut, the little toy he likes to play rough with. And you've accepted it, like you had no other choice but to be fucked into oblivion by Jimin whenever he feels like it.

"You like that, baby? Huh?" He growls, as if you're the disgusting one for liking the way he treats you, ravished and delighted to have his girthy cock sliding against your velvety walls. "You like it when I fuck you hard like this?" He repeats and grips your hair, pushing your head against the bed covers with more strength.

You babble out something, voice caught in your throat, too out of breath to formulate a simple sentence. You then only nod, your cheek squished against the mattress, Jimin's hand still pushing down on your head.

His mouth hangs open to let out heavy breaths and his eyes are focused on your face, watching the little translucent pearls fall on your face and on the covers. Your pussy swallows all of his girth, clenching so tightly it has him groaning and saying profanities under his breath.

It's sick how it makes his cock so fucking hard, leaking so much pre-cum in you and twitching avidly by seeing you struggle to breathe. You crumple the bed sheets between your little fists, doing everything in your power to keep your ass up for Jimin and not slump down on the bed from the hard thrusts he's inflicting on you.

He snaps his hips against your ass and the entirety of his length is covered in your wetness, a white ring made of your cream circling the base of his cock.

His hand holding your head descends to your neck, enclosing it with his fingers, the coldness of his silver rings contrasting with the hotness of your sweaty skin. He squeezes a little, just a bit so you know who's in control, so you never forget Jimin controls you — that he controls your life and thoughts.

With a grip on your hair, he brings your torso up, arched back against his chest. The material of his shirt sticks to your skin, coated in a thin layer of sweat. He continues to pound into you, his cock sliding in and out of your pussy rapidly, as he holds you by the throat, lewdly licking a long stripe along the side of your face.

You shudder in desire, hair standing up on your delicate arms. "You're my little whore, aren't you, baby?" His mouth is right beside your ear as he whispers dirty things to you, his lips touching your hair, damp at the nape of your neck. "So fucking compliant... You want to please me so bad like the slut that you are," he mouths the words against your hair, cock pulsing hard in your cunt.

His free hand that doesn't have a hold around your throat slides down your body, passing over your belly and reaching your puffy clit. The sharp zipper of his pants graces the flesh just under your ass, irritating your skin and making it itchy.

You clench around him when his digits find your sensitive bud, circling it sensually and slowly, the complete opposite of his hip thrusts.

"Yes, want to please you, Jimin," you gasp, bucking your hips at the feeling of his rough fingertips on your pussy. He grunts when you address him by his name, loving how it sounds on your tongue, so sweet and timid.

He remembers the first time you moaned his name; you were sprawled across his expensive leather couch, blindfolded and hands attached together with his black tie. Intense for your first time with him, but it was also the last time he's ever been that gentle with you.

It was when his cold fingertips graced the skin of your stomach that you let out a squeak followed by his name, said in the quietest moan. He had then stopped his movements and looked at your face, an expression of distress painted over your features.

He had realized how frail and weak you actually were, needing your most important sense to be at ease. That's why he had blindfolded you, to show you how dependent you are of him, how impossible it is for you to live without him to guide you.

He pushes your jaw to the side so your lips can meet his in a feverish kiss, wet tongues mingling together, drool dripping down from the corners of your mouth. He continues to ram his cock in your now soppy and messy pussy, the sound of skin against skin resonating in the hotel room.

He traps your bottom lip between his teeth, making you whimper and close your walls around his girth once again. Your little hands grip the material of his trousers, keeping him close and holding on to something because the hard cadence of his hip thrusts push you forward, breasts bouncing up on your chest.

"Fuck," he curses and he suddenly stops, steadying his hips against your butt. You let out a whiny moan as Jimin lets go of your face and hips.

You're sad to have your pleasure ripped away from you so hastily, but you don't have the time to complain, Jimin slipping out of your cunt and pushing you down violently on the mattress.

You turn around on your back to see him unbuttoning his dress shirt and throwing it on the floor, revealing to you his beautiful chest and defined abs. He gets rid of his pants and socks after, finally removing his boxers, the only things remaining on him being his rings and the watch crowning his right wrist.

His cock glistens in your juices, more pre-cum leaking from his swollen tip and twitching avidly against his stomach. Even though him fucking you while being all dressed and you completely bare is a way to humiliate and degrade you, he also likes to be naked sometimes.

He loves skin to skin contact, how your bodies stick together because of all the sweat coating you. It's addicting, it's rougher and it creates more friction — more pain.

He doesn't mind being naked too because he knows how to dominate you either way. He doesn't find it embarrassing, on the contrary, it makes him scarier and hungrier. While you shiver without your clothes on, curled up on yourself, Jimin is imposing, his cock thick and girthy enough to split you in half.

He crawls back to you, hovering over you like a predator had caught his prey, boring his eyes into yours. You look at him in awe, always waiting patiently. You feel his cock against your thigh, thick and veiny, your hole pathetically quivering — missing his size stretching out your pussy.

He sneaks a hand between your legs and reaches the little pink gem, ready to get it out. "Take a deep breath sweetheart," Jimin instructs and you inhale deeply.

He doesn't waste a second, pulling out the butt plug out of your ass. You scrunch your eyes shut at the pain, exhaling when it's done. He carefully sets it on the nightstand, coming back to you after.

He bends your legs over your stomach and looks at your ass, just begging him to fuck it, shining with lube and arousal that leaks from your pussy. His erect cock is just so close to it and Jimin could slide right in with one movement of his hips.

He lets go of one of your legs to grip his engorged erection, a little gasp escaping your lips when he presses the head of his cock at your tight hole, threatening to sink in.

"Sir," you sigh, not sure if you're ready for that. It always burns no matter how good you prepped before and he knows that. That's why he's so tempted, that he's staring so obsessively at your rim.

Will it hurt you? Will you grip his biceps in an attempt to dissuade him? He wants to see those tears falling from your eyes again, he wants to lick them and tastes your pain. He feels more blood rush to his penis at the mere thought of hurting you.

Give him all of your pain, he'll fucking take it whole and cherish it. He wants it — he needs it. Accuse him for having a sick and twisted mind, accuse him for everything you've ever been hurt by because he'll gladly take the blame.

"I know you can take it," he says in a low tone, glancing up at your face as he applies just a bit more pressure to your ass hole. "Can you, baby?" Jimin asks, waiting for you to admit how much you want it, how badly you want him to destroy you.

"Yes..." You whisper back, a long shiver running up your spine as his eyes pierce through you.

"Yes, what? Tell me, sweetheart," he demands, and it's as if he doesn't care about your response whatsoever because the next thing he does makes you yelp in pain.

His tip has entered you, the burning sensation forcing you to scrunch your eyes shut, your instinct thinking it'll protect you.

"Yes, I- I can..." you stutter and as expected, you dig your nails in the flesh of his biceps — only fair to hurt him in return. "I can take your cock in my ass..."

You take a sharp breath, eyes slowly opening, all watery and painful. Jimin groans at that, stuffing more of himself in your hole. "Good girl," he praises, voice raspy, ending with a deep grunt.

He stretches you out completely, his dick in no comparison to the toys you've used to prepare yourself. You open your mouth as he pushes himself in gradually, tears streaming down your face when you blink.

The tears roll down the side of your face and Jimin can't help but be turned on, leaning in to kiss your face and collect some of your tears, tasting the saltiness of them on his tongue.

"Jimin...!" You look at him with the saddest and most hurtful gaze, tears rolling down your face. "It burns," you add in a quiet voice, now scratching his back, leaving long red trails on his skin.

"I know, baby, I know," he softly murmurs in your ear, a husky moan leaving his mouth when he's completely nestled in you, balls touching your ass. "You're so tight, fuck," he sucks air through his teeth, not moving until he estimates he's waited long enough.

He gives warm and wet kisses to your neck, descending to your collarbones and groping your breasts, slowly starting to move his hips. You lock your legs behind his back, wanting him as close to you as possible despite the pain he's inflicting on you.

He loves knowing it hurts you because it makes it more pleasurable to him somehow. The pain will go away soon anyway, that's why he doesn't bother to stop or slow down. You have to get used to the feeling first.

He wouldn't go too far to hurt you. The choking, the hair pulling, the smacks... He keeps it for the bedroom, but he won't lie that there's a part of him that wants to ruin your life, ruin everything you've accomplished so far just so he can see those sad eyes of yours and hear you ask him for help out of desperation.

It's not even sexual, he just wants to break you, that's all he desires. Though your life is something he wants to destroy, it's more of a way to have you dependant on him after. If your career is no longer successful, your solution is Jimin because he's the only person in your life capable of taking care of you both emotionally and physically.

His teeth chew on the tender skin of your neck while his hand travels all over your body, many veins popping out along his strong arm. The cool sensation of his rings on your stomach makes you shiver, his finger gently circling your clit to make the pain more bearable.

His cock slides in your hole back and forth, your ass slowly but surely taking the size of girth. Many curses leave Jimin's mouth, your ass probably the best he's ever fucked. You feel so good around him, you're tight, but you loosen easily, making it so, so pleasurable for him.

His hand that was roaming over your body comes to close around your throat and he turns his head to your side, lips brushing over your temple. "Yeah, just like that, baby," he mutters under his breath, his nose pressing down on your hair as he murmurs the words to you. "Just like that..."

A choked moan is all you can respond, eyes rolling back in your skull as Jimin splits your ass open, fucking his thick cock into you. His hot breath hits the side of your face, his chest heaving rapidly while you claw at his back, white scratches appearing on his skin.

He sweetly kisses your temple as he pounds into you, not tightening his hand around your throat, just holding you in place — always letting you know that he is always in control.

Your tits slightly bounce up and down on your chest, little whines coming out of you each time Jimin bottoms out. It starts feeling good for you — really good — and you think that this pleasure is totally worth a bit of pain at the beginning.

You grip the hair at the nape of his neck and bring him in for a kiss. He accepts it, kissing you back as if he wants to possess your whole mouth, biting and licking your lips. You moan into his mouth, twisting his hair between your fist and sinking your nails into the flesh of his back.

He backs away from you a little, his plump lips glistening in both of your saliva, and places his two palms on your boobs. He feels your perky nipples under his hands, just loving how plushy your breasts are, fitting perfectly in his palms.

He keeps thrusting in you as he gropes your tits and you bring your hands over his, looking into each other's eyes. He lowly groans, holding eye-contact with you.

You feel his veins under your palms, your pussy clenching around nothing but air while you run your hands all over his arms. You enjoy the sensations of his pulsing veins under your small fingers as you sink your teeth into your bottom lip, staring into Jimin's dark eyes.

"Jimin..." You moan his name, throwing your head back and closing your eyes, just enjoying the feeling of his hard cock entering and exiting your tight hole. Jimin takes the opportunity to smooch your neck again as you expose it to him, his full lips delicately pressing down on your throat. "I love it," you sigh pleasantly.

He hums, the sound coming deep from his throat. He wants to hurt you, yes, but he likes it even more when you love the pain. He just knew you were exactly like him when he first saw you. He had the feeling that you needed someone like him, someone that'd push you to your limits and make you discover a new type of pleasure.

And he was right because there's not one time where you told him to stop.

"My dirty girl," he purrs in response, bringing his lips up to your jaw. He slowly rolls your nipples between his fingertips, pinching and pulling on them. "You're stupid, but so, so good for me, baby," he groans in your ear, gritting his teeth as he feels his balls tightening.

He slowly halts his hips movements, letting out heavy breaths as he eventually pulls out of you. You gasp when he does so, already missing his cock stretching out your ass.

You're both trying to catch your breaths, Jimin raising himself up from you and getting out of the bed. His erection stands tall against his stomach, bouncing up as he walks to the front of the bed.

You watch him getting away until he orders you to follow him. "Come here," he says softly and you don't make him wait. "On your knees," Jimin commands when you're facing him, sinking down to your knees after.

He places a hand behind your head and the other around the base of his dick, guiding the head of his cock toward your lips as he pushes down on your head.

"Here, baby," he instructs in a low voice. "Take it in your mouth." You part your lips to welcome Jimin's length, his bulbous tip shining in pre-cum and your juices under the light of the hotel room.

He immediately moans when he enters the warmth of your mouth, his heavy cock sliding on your wet tongue. He doesn't let you have much control, pushing his dick in your mouth until your nose touches his pubic hair.

You relax your jaw for Jimin, allowing him to stuff your mouth full of his cock. He looks down at you, watching the way your lips wrap around him tightly, your eyes starting to water. He still holds the back of your head with one hand, guiding you over his stiff erection and you moan obscenely around Jimin, drool dripping down on your chin.

He begins to fuck your mouth, forcing you to take the whole thing each time he bottoms out. He moves his hips back and forth, obsessed with the way his girth appears and reappears between your lips as he uses your mouth as he pleases.

"Shit," he hisses when you hollow your cheeks, making it more pleasurable for him. "You're a fucking cockslut, aren't you, baby?" He says breathily, his eyes not once leaving his cock penetrating your mouth over and over again.

You whine around him, surely agreeing with what he said. It sends deliciously vibrations through his entire body, the sounds of your moans and hearing you gag around him is so arousing to him. He wants to hear more so he literally uses your mouth like a toy, snapping his hips against you, his balls slapping your chin.

He lets out a deep moan, your cheeks now damp and eyelashes all wet because of your tears, eyes stinging as Jimin fucks your throat like a mad man.

"Stroke your clit," he manages to say between two heavy breaths. "You can get off by yourself, right? I know you're soaking wet just by letting me use that pretty mouth of yours," he mocks you, but he knows he's right. Whatever he does, your cunt is always dripping wet.

You whimper again, doing what he told you to and sneaking a hand between your thighs to play with your pussy. You part your legs wider as you circle your clit with your finger, Jimin's hooded eyes lazily watching you playing with yourself.

Your right hand is laying on his thigh while the other is operating between your legs, pleasuring yourself to the sounds of Jimin's moans and the feeling of his stiff cock weighing down on your tongue.

You do your best to breathe through your nose, swallowing around his length and flattening your tongue underneath him. Your juices drip down your inner thighs, your finger flickering over your sensitive bud smoothly because of your arousal.

The whole room is smelling like sex, an odour that Jimin can't ignore, loving it so much. Your lips glide so easily over his hard cock, completely covered in your spit and still some of your wetness, tasting yourself on him.

"Ah, fuck," he curses, his head rolling back on his shoulders, eyes still strained down on you. He feels the familiar burning sensation at the pit of his stomach, indicating he's really close to his orgasm. He stops thrusting in you. "Go on the bed, baby."

You're taken aback, but you follow his order, pulling him out of your mouth and laying your back down on the mattress close to the edge. You beautifully moan when Jimin penetrates your pussy a second time, bending your legs over your stomach.

"Oh, god," you cry softly, being pounded onto the bed by him right away, tits moving up and down on your chest.

His hands are positioned on each side of your shoulders, snapping his hips against yours so harshly you feel your skin stinging. You keep doing circle motions on your clit, now faster and impatient to reach your high.

You let out a high-pitched moan when Jimin suddenly steadies his hips over yours, dropping down to his elbows as he hides his face in the crook of your neck. "Holy fuck," he grunts, gripping the bed sheets tightly in fists beside your head as his cock twitches in your pussy.

"Yes, yes," you quietly exclaim, your clitoral orgasm passing through you, making you arch your back and buck your hips.

Your hole clenches repeatedly around him and he finally comes undone into you, shooting long, thick ropes of cum deep into you. He empties himself in your wet cunt, cumming just after you.

When he slips out of you, more spurts out of his tip, landing on your pussy, covering it in his creamy cum. You moan at the warm sensation, always loving how it feels both in and on you. Some of his seeds dribble out of you, dripping down to your ass.

He stays above you for some time, catching his breath and looking at the mess he made on you. He stares up at your face, seeing how fucked up you look, hair in a nest and eyes reddened.

Later, Jimin is in the shower, washing his hair and his body, passing a soft cloth soaked in soap over his chest. He lets the water fall over his head, wetting his black locks. He stays maybe a bit longer than normally, staring at the tiled wall.

He thinks about you, about all the things he's planned. He revised everything in his head, imagining you walk on the podium wearing his design, people looking at his piece with admiration in their eyes.

He thinks about all of that that will go down for you after the show, getting fired, losing your career and your fans. Many articles talking about your excessive use of alcohol and drugs, saying how tired and sad you look beside Jimin.

You won't last long, you're too weak anyway. A downfall like this is unconquerable, nobody recovers from that, and surely not a model who will be thrown out of the industry as soon as you turn twenty-five.

Jimin knows the industry, he's been in it for years now. He's aware of how cruel it is, how difficult and harsh it can be on fragile little girls like you.

But that's why he's here, to take care of you once nobody will want you anymore. That's the goal, after all; you to be finally his — solely and completely his.

"Jimin?"

Your voice reaches him, turning his head in your direction, seeing you hesitantly entering the shower with him. He opens his arms, inviting you to come closer and you do, hugging him and laying your head down on his wet chest.

"I love you, sweetheart," he softly murmurs against your hair. "I'll never leave you, you know that, right?"

You nod your head, looking up at him and meeting his gaze. "I love you, too."

๑♡՞

A F T E R

The runway went incredibly well. Celebrities and journalists were all gathered for the fall show, totally amazed by every design and the models that were wearing them.

But there was one specific piece that everyone was willing to say was the best.

Jimin was satisfied to see that his name stood out among everyone else's, being called more times than Dior itself. He predicted it; it was the creation that every guest remembered, the dress that the fans were only talking about.

He'd take all the credit, he was the one who imagined it and then sewed it after all, but he has to admit that you had contributed to the fame a lot.

Being the beloved face of Dior only made people talk more about it and that was what Jimin needed.

But everything has an end, doesn't it?

When Jimin comes back to his apartment, the place is silent except for the TV playing, as he thought it would be. You're looking through the window, watching the city living at night while it's raining. You're sitting on the sofa, not even acknowledging his presence as he enters, getting rid of his shoes.

You're not much of a talker since you've been fired from Dior a few days ago just after the fall show. He understands your wish of remaining silent, needing a bit of space to process everything that has happened the past weeks in your small head.

It was going to happen soon enough anyway. You've been to your photoshoots completely drunk, sometimes just going in with a hangover, but of course it didn't help your case at all.

Jimin was guilty for letting you drink alcohol so soon in the morning. No need to deny it, he was even the one for dropping you off at work like that. Well, he had to do it if he wanted people to notice how far you've fallen.

He doesn't feel bad, though. Your career wasn't going to last with Jimin's sabotage or not. He did you a favour, you should be thankful.

You can't handle being a model. If you could, none of that would have happened. You wouldn't have gained weight, you would have been suspicious of the amount of calories Jimin was feeding you. The bottle of wine wouldn't have been so tempting and smoking weed wouldn't have ever occurred to you as a good idea.

Some people can, others can't and you're one of them. You shouldn't be ashamed of it, sometimes things just don't work out like we would have wanted them to.

"Did you see the article they wrote about me?" You ask, already knowing he's walking up to you without looking. "You surely did, I bet that's all they're talking about..."

He sits down beside you and you eventually turn around, facing him. You care so much about what others think of you. It must be so tiring having such a low self-esteem. He can only imagine it; seeing you look through the window like a sad puppy, your life finally making sense when Jimin comes home.

"I did, but nothing of that matters to me," he answers, the most honest he's ever been. And even if he had to lie, it's not like you wouldn't have believed him. You always trust whatever he says.

You don't reply, your head still filled with many thoughts.

"Hey, come here," he softly tells you, patting his thigh. You straddle his lap, setting your hands on his shoulders. He cups your chin, forcing you to look at him as you keep avoiding his gaze. "Whatever they say, whatever their name is, nothing will ever be more important than you."

Because who is he if he lets some article affect the way he sees you? He's known you since the beginning of your career and he stayed til the end of it.

He knows you better than everyone else. He was with you during your highs and lows and he'll still be there for the next ones. There's nothing in the world that could make him leave you. After everything he's done to have you, there's no way he'll go away.

How cowardly of him if he does. He can't leave when he's promised he'd heal you — close all of your past wounds and create other ones.

He may be selfish, but there's one thing that he isn't and it's a fucking liar. He sticks to his words, and when he says he'll never leave you, that means he'll never, never abandon you — he'll never leave your side, not even once. He can't risk it.

๑♡՞

taglist: @mcsalterego @blueberryarchive @gyukookswhore @bloopkook @ot72025 @mrsminho @ownthesunshine @dahliadaenerys

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lookedlikeanamericansinger

3 years ago

late night ‘swim’ // vinnie hacker

warnings: light angst, smut, f!ngering, degrading, unprotected, seggs in a hot tub :|

vinnie x fem!reader (best friends) [18]

a/n: THIS IS LONG , 2 requests i merged tgt cos they were similar!! hope you all enjoy mwah <3

like & reblog !! please this took days :)

2 hours. just a 2 hour trip to this beach house the hype house had rented and your best friend, vinnie, invited you to come… and how could you say no?

you were excited to finally get out of basic LA scenery, but the 2 hour drive was hell. absolute hell.

for some reason, your group decided to take vinnie’s bmw there, and laugh out loud that was a bad idea.

there were about 3 cars driving there. you were in vinnie’s, who was driving. jake was in the front while you were squished in the back with jett. plus, the heat didn’t make anything better.

vinnie was trying to be optimistic about this whole trip and everything, but he officially lost it when his car broke down for the 4th time.

“i can’t fucking do this anymore!” vinnie ran a hand through his hair. the car was pulled over to the side of an empty highway, and he cussed as he kicked some rocks on the ground.

“jett, switch with me.“ “dude, are you okay?” jett confusingly got out of the car. “i’m fine, thanks,” vinnie huffed, taking his shirt off before he sat down in the seat next to you, panting.

“you good, vincent?” you asked with a chuckle, trying to lighten the tension, but vinnie just shot you a ‘not right now’ glare, and you rolled your eyes.

“it’s gonna get better, v, i promise,” you tried to reassure him as the car started up again, this time jett driving. “guys, how much longer till we’re there?” “about.. 35 minutes,” jett spoke as he switched the gears.

“so fucking tired,” vinnie groaned, scooching himself closer to you then leaned his head onto your shoulder. you quickly nudged it off, the feeling of his sweaty body making you cringe.

vinnie furrowed his brows at you, confused. “sweaty,” you gagged, and he rolled his eyes, putting his head back down on your shoulder.

“vinnie, stop. you’re sweaty as hell.” you pushed him away again, and vinnie was fed up.

“it’s not the end of the fucking world, y/n!” he shouted, catching you— everyone in the car off guard. you gave vinnie a ‘seriously’ look and scoffed, “jett, stop the car.” “why—“ “just stop it.”

jett pulled over to the side, allowing you to get out, and you swapped spots with jake, sitting in the front seat now.

vinnie started to calm down a bit and kissed his teeth before he spoke, “look, y/n, i’m so—“ “save it,” you cut him off as you plugged your phone into aux and turned the volume all the way up, drowning out any other noise in the background.

“fucking, finally!” you sighed of relief as jett put the car in park, and everyone practically jumped out of the car. you stretched your arms and thanked jake when he dropped your 2 bags next to you.

you sighed, standing in front of the tall beach house when you felt someone’s presence behind you. “we’re still sharing a room, by the way,” vinnie mumbled lowly in your ear before quickly passing by you and went straight into the beach house.

you rolled your eyes as you picked up your bags and walked in, noticing that everyone was already there, meaning you guys were the last ones to arrive.

“hey, mia!” you saw her standing in the kitchen. she smiled and waved when she saw you. “hey, babe! how was the ride?” “it was… interesting,” you forced a chuckle, and she laughed along with you. “which room am i staying in, again?”

“last door on the right…” you whispered to yourself as you made your way to the room.

sighing, you opened the door and quickly shut your eyes when you saw a clear view of vinnie, who had just pulled his swim shorts up. he cussed when he turned around and saw you.

“how long have you been standing there for?” vinnie nervously asked as he faced you. you just scrunched your face, putting your bags down and looked for a certain black bikini in your bag and found it.

“one bed, seriously?” you scoffed as you headed towards the bathroom to change. vinnie shrugged and rolled his eyes, leaving the room.

“ah! jack, put me down!” you squealed as jack had thrown you over his shoulder, in an attempt to get you into the ocean.

“jack, i swear on your mother, if you don’t put me—”“alright, alright,” he laughed, letting you go gently on the sand. you glared at him, but it didn’t take you too long to burst into laughter yourself.

you got up from the sand, brushing it off of your thighs and turned your body around slightly to get a view of your ass, brushing the sand off of it also.

when you turned back, you noticed vinnie staring daggers at you. his jaw was clenched as his arms held him up on the edge of the balcony railing. when your gazes met, vinnie immediately looked away.

“what’s up with him?” jack asked, referring to vinnie. “don’t know.” you shrugged. the two of you decided to go back inside, and perfect timing since the takeout finally arrived.

“pizza?” “what can i say?” thomas shrugged with a laugh. you chuckled as alex opened one of the pizza boxes, and everyone dug in.

“so, y/n, did you try out the hot tub yet?” kouvr asked you, and you shook your head as you looked out at the large hot tub on the balcony.

“hopefully tomorrow,” you said casually.

you, kouvr, and mia talked some more before you finally decided to get some food, and grabbed a plate and a slice.

“did you guys get any french fries?” you looked around the table but couldn’t find them. “gotcha,” alex spoke, pointing at vinnie, who was sitting on a stool around the bar area… the container of fries in his hands.

you sighed as you approached your boy best friend and realized that you guys sadly didn’t even hang out today, for some reason.

“gimme some.” you playfully reached your plate out to him, but vinnie completely ignored your presence and continued to watch the movie that was playing.

why the fuck is he ignoring me?

“v, are you okay?” you quietly asked as you put your plate down on the counter and gently placed a hand on his knee. “look, i’m sorry for what happened in the car earlier, but you can’t ignore me forever,” you said clearly, but he stayed quiet.

“dude, you invited me to this shit. talk to me, vinnie, for fucks sake we’re sharing a freaking bed tonight!” you slightly raised your voice, and it felt like a miracle occurred when he finally turned to look at you.

though all he did was shrug. “my bad,” vinnie mumbled, putting the container of fries down and moved your hand off of his knee. “vinnie—” you tried, but he got up and walked away.

it was usually easier for you to fall asleep, but tonight wasn’t it, and vinnie’s constant tossing and turning in bed really wasn’t helping. “shit,” you whispered to yourself as you checked the time to see it was 2:47 AM. you sighed as you laid on your back.

thankfully, vinnie stopped turning around, and he was finally comfortable laying down on his back, just like you.

“i can’t sleep,” vinnie suddenly let out a low breath, and you simply scoffed, not knowing what to say since you didn’t want to risk vinnie being mad and ignoring you again.

silence quickly fell over the room again. you felt yourself finally dozing off when vinnie had to speak again.

“i’m sorry,” he mumbled, turning his body to face yours, and you took a breath before slowly turning on your side to face him.

“it’s okay.” you gave him a gentle smile, and admired him and how his features looked so godly in the moonlight.

“you tired now?” he asked. “well, i was… but you woke me up.” you kissed your teeth, but noticed vinnie grin. he abruptly got out of bed and ran to the bathroom, coming out with his swimsuit on and tossed you yours.

“put it on, we’re going swimming.”

“this isn’t swimming,” you laughed as vinnie helped you into the hot tub, beaming smiles on both of your faces. “shut up, it’s the same thing,” he lightly chuckled as you bit your lip, and you dipped your body into the water.

“feels nice, right?” vinnie raised his brows. you sighed and mumbled a ‘mm-hm’ as you moved around in the water a little bit.

“turn the jets on,” you whispered, nodding your head forward. “can’t, y/n. the noise will wake everyone up,” vinnie whispered back, and you could see him quickly swipe his tongue over his bottom lip.

“c’mon, they won’t even hear it,” you insisted, a pleading look on your face. vinnie rolled his eyes as he reached out of the hot tub and pressed a button, the jets immediately starting up.

“c’mere,” vinnie suddenly mumbled and gestured for you to come closer to him. you giggled, making your way towards him, and out of nowhere, he pulled you onto his lap.

“is this okay?” he said lowly in your ear as you relaxed and rested your back on his chest. you nodded as vinnie carefully placed his hands on your waist.

“i like night swims,” you teased as you leaned your head back on his chest. vinnie chuckled and began to draw circles on your upper thigh gently.

you got yourself comfier on his lap and sighed from the feeling of the jets and warm water. everything was so soothing, but the tension between you and vinnie seemed more different than usual.

after a few minutes, you could feel vinnie’s breath on your neck and his grip on your waist tighten. you tugged at your bottom lip, trying to relax again— but the feeling of your bodies pressed together and the way his hands were placed on your waist, you couldn’t help but slightly move on top of him and a low groan fell from his lips.

you didn’t acknowledge it, but vinnie’s grip on your waist loosened… instead, his fingers started to lightly play with the strings of your bikini bottom. you bit your lip again, trying to hold back any sounds that could accidentally slip out.

vinnie’s fingers lightly treaded over your skin and would ‘accidentally’ make contact with your area. you squirmed on top of his lap, causing him to let go of the strings and hold you on him again.

suddenly, you felt something pressing up against under you, and it didn’t take you long to figure out what it was. his bulge was pressing hard against you, and you couldn’t help but whimper when he started to lightly tug on your bikini bottoms again.

“can i?” he suddenly mumbled in your ear, and you nodded your head slowly as his fingers crept their way to the inner side of your bottoms.

“s-shit,” you whimpered as his index finger swiftly ran up your slit, and you couldn’t help but rock your hips gently on him again.

vinnie lowly chuckled, “i can’t tell if you’re actually wet or if it’s just the water.” “mm, v.” you threw your head back on his shoulder, softly laughing with him. his finger continued to play with your wetness… when your eyes made contact, he stopped.

you suddenly gasped and shut your eyes when you felt vinnie’s finger push into you, and you moaned when he started to move it back and forth.

“shh, stay quiet for me, love,” he huskily whispered into your ear and lightly bit your lobe as his finger moved steadily in you. “f-fuck, vin.”

the pace increased, and you couldn’t help but let out low whimpers as his finger now moved swiftly in your pussy.

your hand gripped his thigh for support as he added another finger in you. “please, v-vinnie,” you moaned his name quietly as he started to suck feverishly on your neck.

you immediately grabbed onto the back of his neck with your other hand for support as you felt your body become unsteady on his lap. the feeling of his bulge pressing against you was very much still there.

“sh-it, i’m s-so close, v.” you stifled out a moan as vinnie’s fingers moved at just the right speed, giving the perfect amount of pressure, and your eyes rolled back as you felt your high overcome you.

“finish on my fingers, baby, c’mon. just like the good little slut you are,” he grunted, and you couldn’t help but moan loudly and gasp when you felt yourself release. “f-uck, yes!”

you panted and tried to regain some composure as you came down from your high. vinnie pulled his fingers out and admired your wetness on his digits when it finally hit you what just fucking happened.

slowly turning around to face vinnie, both of you were speechless. your eyes were locked, before his eyes quickly flashed down to your lips. you didn’t waste a second before closing the space in between and smashed your lips together.

vinnie’s hand went straight to your neck, and guided you to straddle his lap. your fronts pressed together, and you whimpered, wrapping your arms around his neck as his other hand cupped your ass and stroked it eagerly.

your fingers tugged at his damp curls lightly as your hips rocked against each other. the feeling was intense yet euphoric, at the same time.

vinnie’s groans had set you off the hook, and you desperately wanted to hear them again, causing you to palm him. you got what you wanted. he pulled back from the kiss, his eyes were shut and one more groan left his lips before he spoke.

“ride me.” “i-in the hot tub?” “I’ll help you.”

you pressed your lips together and nodded your head. vinnie grinned as you lifted your hips slightly, allowing him to move his shorts to his knees and you watched intently as his cock sprung up, his tip leaking with precum. how tf is that supposed to fit?

vinnie then untied your bottoms strings, making them fall off completely. you scoffed as vinnie tossed them at the patio door and raised your brows as he swiftly licked his lips and shrugged.

your thighs were placed on either side of his while vinnie’s hands were now placed on your waist. your eyes were locked as you hovered over him, both of your privates exposed. his grip on your waist tightened, and you held in a breath before sinking down onto his hard.

“shit.” “oh fuck.” your mouths both formed into ‘o’s as you slowly sank down on him completely. you squirmed, adjusting yourself to his size, causing vinnie to let out a throaty moan then bite his tongue.

whimpers left your lips as you settled onto vinnie’s cock. getting used to the feel of his dick stretching you out, moving up and down a couple times before finally feeling comfortable. all pain had turned into pleasure.

vinnie started off by slowly rolling your hips on his, causing you to bury your face into his shoulder, soft moans leaving your lips.

“r-right there, oh-oh fuck,” you moaned into the crook of his neck as he started to thrust upwards in you.

“do i fuck you good, love? is this how you like it?” he grunted in your ear as you bite down onto his shoulder, trying not to let out a glass shattering moan that would surely wake up every beach house, on the coast.

“you have no fucking clue how long i’ve been waiting to fuck this pretty pussy, baby. so-so fucking tight,” he grunted again, making it even harder for you to stay quiet. “o-oh.”

“let me see you, love,” vinnie murmured as he stroked your ass, and you slowly lifted your head off of his shoulder, but your eyes were shut tight.

vinnie suddenly squeezed your ass, wanting you to look at him. your gazes met, and you opened your mouth to say something but nothing audible would come out.

“let me hear you,” he whispered, and you nodded your head as he thrusted hardly up into you. your eyes rolled back and a pornographic moan left your lips, causing his cock to throb in you.

“more,” he grunted sternly, thrusting upwards again, and you immediately grabbed onto his shoulders for support. “mmf, vin— r-right there.”

you started to lightly bounce, but vinnie was still in full control. his large hands still gripped your hips steadily and rocked you back ‘n forth. profanities and low moans leaving his plump lips, every few seconds.

he was so caught up in the pleasure he was feeling, vinnie didn’t even realize that his control was slipping from his grasp, and that gave you the opportunity to bounce yourself at your own pace.

“fucking slut thinks she’s the boss now, hm?” vinnie grunted, frustrated that he couldn’t take back his control and gritted his teeth as you continued to bounce on him. you felt weak for a second, slowing down a bit but got back into it right away.

“pathetic, little bitch,” he scoffed. all you could do was whimper as your hands grabbed his shoulders harder, your bouncing actions never faltering.

“riding me like—“ “just shut up and let me make you feel good,” you whined, cutting him off and quickly pecked his lips a few times. still going up and down on his dick.

vinnie moved all your hair onto one shoulder before gently placing his hands on your hips again, willingly putting you in charge now.

the sound of the bubbling water and jets muffled the echoes of your clapping skin and made your moans seem barely audible, as the pace of your bouncing on him started to pick up even more.

“you’re such a whore for me, you know?” vinnie grunted with a grin on his face. “and what about it?” you whimpered. “i fucking love it,” vinnie replied with a smirk, squeezing your hips, and you bit your lip.

vinnie instantly moaned when you clenched around him, his moans making you want to return the favour of pleasure even more. you switched your rhythm to grind on him now, rocking your hips against his swiftly, and his grip on your waist tightened as he felt his high getting nearer.

“holy fuck, y/n,” he groaned as you titled your head, sucking on his neck and grunts wouldn’t stop leaving his lips.

“cum in me, vin,” you whimpered in his ear and started to roll your hips with more force. his grip on your waist tightened even more, and you purposely moaned in his ear as his cock hit foreign places, deep inside of you.

“baby, i’m so fucking close,” vinnie grunted loudly as his hips began to stutter. “just like that, y-yeah— fucking hell— y/n!” he moaned loudly as his cock started to twitch, and he released up inside of you, painting your walls white.

the bouncing came to a stop, and the both of you were left in the bubbling hot tub, panting and rushing with adrenaline. your hands had to hold onto his sturdy shoulders to keep you up.

a few seconds later, you started to laugh and a smirk crept up on your face, vinnie mirrored it before pulling your face back to his and pressed your lips together.

you went back to the state of tugging his curls as you made out, tongues dancing together, and moans sending vibrations throughout your entire bodies— when all of a sudden, the upstairs lights turned on. you could hear multiple voices, and immediately pulled away from vinnie’s plump lips.

vinnie cussed, and you were still straddling his lap as you turned to see the awake beach house. just your luck, the hot tub timer finished and the jets slowly came to a stop. “no way this is happening.”

“we’re screwed.” vinnie ran a hand through his hair, and you looked down to see a clearer view of your bodies still attached in the water.

“vinnie!” you whisper-yelled sternly, nudging his chest and told him to look down. “y/n, what— shit,” he whistled as he looked down at your connected bodies. his eyes quickly flashed to the door where he threw your bikini bottom. you laughed and shook your head when he looked back at you with a guilty apologetic look.

vinnie was trying to think of a solution to cover— but the only thing he could come up with was to grab your ass with his full hands and relied on you to cover him, as his dick stayed limp inside of you.

at that moment, you both looked up and watched as people started to make their way onto the upstairs balcony. a few cussed when they saw the position you two were in but some just laughed their asses off.

“oh shit!” “is that y/n and vinnie?” “fucking nasty!” “they’re so cute!” “in the hot tub, rlly?” “me next!”

“what the fuck did you do guys do!?” thomas yelled, from the upstairs balcony, and everyone laughed.

you stuttered, not knowing what to tell them. yeah, so basically… casual night swim turned into my best friend fingering me and then i rode him in a mother fucking hot tub at 3am, the usual, you know!

thankfully, vinnie came to the rescue.

“just making my girl feel good,” he teasingly yelled with a chuckle, smirking as he turned your chin to face him and suddenly brought your lips to his.

—

HEY BESTIES lmk what u think bc i’m overthinking again ahhh mwah DONT FORGET TO LIKE <33

MAY, 2015:

"Yes, I think we all suffered when he left, but Y/N also suffered a lot." Louis says, and the other four guys nod.

"Is that true, Harry?" James asks him.

"Yeah, it was very difficult for her but I think they're still in contact. It was very painful, you know? seeing her so sad is something I can't bear." He speaks, with a lump in his throat. "I wanted to make her happy but I couldn't, and now I'm grateful that she's already better."

DECEMBER 2015:

"The hiatus is gonna help us to visit our families more often. I'm actually gonna stay for a while at my parents' house, which is amazing." Liam said from the back seat.

"Y/N and I are going away on vacation." Harry said excitedly, and James looked at him in the rearview mirror, smirking.

"Any engagement plans, Styles?"

He ran a hand through his hair, blushing, and the other four boys began to whistle and scream in derision.

"I ask to be best man!" Louis yelled.

"Stop it!" Harry replied completely embarrassed. "I won't let you know when we get married."

"Oh please, when she says yes, you're going to shout it out and post it everywhere!"

(...)

"I'm not even embarrassed." Harry shrugged. "She has me wrapped around her finger and I love it!"

Everyone laughs, but he just turns his head to look behind the scenes, where she laughs, shaking her head.

She's all that matters.

1K notes View Post

lookedlikeanamericansinger

3 years ago

your writing is so good 😭😭 thank u

Lil’ Mama

prompt: based off this request ***

warnings: mentions of child birth

if you enjoyed this fic - please reblog, like, recommend, comment, & come talk to me in my inbox 💕

i write for free so if you would like to support me - please consider donating to my kofi!

“Mama? Mama? Daddy?”

The whimpers are trailing through their large bedroom as Ezra pushes open the door gently to step in.

Harry groans quietly, knows it can’t be more than six in the morning as his youngest son crawls up onto the bed in between the two.

“Hey bub,” Harry rasps at a low volume, “Don’t wake mama, remember she’s sleepin’ f’her and the baby in her belly.”

Ezra frowns at his father, wriggling in frustration when his dad holds him on his side and prohibits him from going to his mom.

“Mama!” Their son squeaks in defiance, ignoring his father, and it has YN stirring from her deep sleep with a jolt.

“S’okay?” She mumbles at the sound of her son’s cries, eyes still not open because she’s as tired as death from have a baby two weeks away from the due date taking up all the room in her body.

“Go back to sleep,” He murmurs, leaning over to kiss her forehead before turning to his pissed off child and huffs, “As f’you, you’re going on the step because y’didn’t listen to y’daddy.”

Ezra looks at him in betrayal, green puppy eyes soften, and he lisps, “M’sorry daddy.”

“I know y’are, Ez. But you need t’listen ‘cause you woke y’mama like I asked you not to do,” Harry tells him as he scoops him up and pads out of the room.

It is just the start to a hectic day.

After the step, Harry manages to tucked Ezra back into bed as all the boys usually sleep until around eight-thirty and it was only six fifteen.

When he gets back in their room, YN is nowhere to be found but he hears the water running in the bathroom.

She’s in their shower, droplets of water slipping off her taut belly but what concerns her husband is that she’s sitting on the shower bench with head against the tile and hands cupping her stomach.

“Mama? Wha’s goin’ on, darlin’?” Harry asks, stripping down quickly and stepping in to squat down in front of his wife.

“Just a few contractions,” YN mumbles tiredly, wincing when it’s just a light, little butterfly of a cramp.

Harry’s stomach swoops, a cautious smiles gracing his face, “D’you…y’think the bubbie is on its way?”

YN sighs in pleasure when his hands massage at her thighs as she lets of a puff of air, “No, I’ve had these with all the boys - they’re not like real contractions.”

“I think y’should stay home tonight,” He tells him wife, ducking down to kiss over her thin, stretched skin where his baby is tucked away safely.

She frowns, hands coming to rest of his broad damp shoulders, “No, your mum is coming to watch them and I thought afterwards we were going to get a hotel room for the night.”

“I know that, baby. Y’think tha’ I would turn willingly turn down an opportunity to get y’alone for the night?” He chuckles but it dies off when she doesn’t laugh.

“We’re having our night out,” YN replies curtly, not leaving any room for argument.

But it’s Harry so, of course, he argues.

“Don’t be stubborn w’me,” Harry grits out, hands pausing on her skin, “I can ask m’mum to take the boys up to her house for the night so we can have a night in here.”

“Do you not listen?” YN bites back, eyes narrowing, “I said that I don’t want to move it and I still want to have a night out.”

Harry bristles with irritation, “And I said, it’s not a good idea because y’close to popping and y’have pain. A baseball game isn’t the best place f’you.”

With the lack of sleep from being pregnant, then her son waking her up, and adding the mini contractions - she really isn’t in the mood and is quite cranky.

“Just being I’m pregnant doesn’t mean I can’t make my own decision!” YN snaps angrily, pushing Harry’s hands off of her.

He stands up with a furrowed brow, tattoos shining as they get splashed with water, chest puffing out as he replies loudly.

“I get to make that choice too because it’s my baby in your belly!” Harry booms back, shaking his hair out like a wet dog.

“Get out,” His wife demands, pointing towards the glass door, trying to disguise a wince from a sharp stab of pain.

“Fine by me.”

With that, he’s wrapping a towel around his waist and storming out of the bathroom.

YN ends up getting her way, sitting in her normal seat by the third base line with a water and soft pretzel.

Harry made it clear that he wasn’t happy that she was there but didn’t want to make their fight any worse before he played.

One of the games during inning break was guess the sex where multiple teammates guessed what they were having.

It ends on Harry, the crowd goes wild as the interview asks, “Do you guys know what you’re having?”

Harry smiles to the camera, jaw clenching tightly as he chews his gum, “No, we decided to keep it a surprise.”

“Well you have three boys already, hoping for a girl or another boy?”

“We’ll be happy as long as they’re healthy,” Harry responds before the segment ends and the crowd coos.

YN, however, zoned out and couldn’t quite enjoy it because of how the contractions have picked up in severity.

It only took a few of them to realize that the baby was coming and coming soon.

But she’s stubborn, convinces herself that it isn’t happening quite yet, and just keeps her palm tightly against her taut belly.

By the fifth inning, YN can’t even focus on anything but breathing deep and Harry must notice because after the switch - he’s jogging over to her.

“Mama. Are you-“

“The baby’s coming, Harry,” YN gasps out, a light sheen of sweat decorating her forehead, “S’coming really fucking soon.”

Most baseball players would be torn.

He’s in the middle of a fantastic game where all eyes are proudly on him from the fans to his coaches.

Not Harry, he pecks his wife’s nose, and says, “Alright, let me tell coach.”

“But- you’re in a middle of a game -“

Harry shakes his head, “No, m’baby is about to be born. I’m not missing it for a fuckin’ baseball game.”

Then…this is a spectacle that makes the news outlets job easy for weeks.

A fight.

A nasty fight between the coach and their star player.

“Styles, you’re not leaving!” Coach Hammon demands as they stand in the dugout - nose to nose with inflated chests to show dominance.

Harry is much more intimidating.

“I’m not askin’, I’m tellin’ you m’leavin’,” He booms back, pulling off his guards and cup - throwing them to the bench.

“You have a game to finish!”

“Get the fuck outta my face,” Harry roars angrily, teammates holding him back as his coach nearly is spitting with fury.

“You’re going to get a major fucking fine for this, I’ll make sure of it!” Hammon threatens with a finger in his face.

“Make it a million! I’ll give y’to happily, fuckin’ prick,” He laughs, shaking off his teammates to run in the locker room to change back into his normal clothes and grab his phone.

Security had guided YN to the private entrance in the back of the stadium where Harry had his car parked and help her into the SUV.

“Oh mama,” Harry pouts, reaching over to get the belt over her belly before clicking it in place, “Y’so stubborn sometimes.”

YN begins to sniffle between the debilitating cramps , “I-I don’t have my hospital ba-bag and the kids aren’t set up for us to be gone. Harry, Ezra is going to be so anxious-“

Harry grips her hand in his empty one, “Breathe, sweetheart. M’mum can handle everything, y’know that. Just gotta focus on breathing.”

“Ooh-“ YN whines, spreading her legs to try to stay comfortable as her body wants to push the baby out before she’s ready, “Ohh, fuck. The—the baby is so being impatient.”

He laughs, heart pounding and his throat tight, “Fifteen minutes and we’re there.”

It was the hospital closer to their house, outside the city, and luckily, traffic wasn’t completely horrific like it normally was.

About ten minutes into the drive, YN is sweating so fiercely that she tugs off her hoodie so she’s just in her leggings and sports bra.

“H, hurry please,” She groans miserably, hips wriggling against the seat as she inhales and exhales sharply through her nose.

Harry’s trying to keep his eye on the road but can’t help but look at his wife too, his hand resting on her stomach.

“Y’got this, mama. C’mon, gonna give us a healthy little baby right? Perfect, doin’ perfect,” He praises, he’d already called the hospital to warn them of their arrival.

Then she gasps, looking down between her legs, and the heather grey of her leggings darkening, “My-my water j-just broke.”

“Five minutes, darling. Doin’ fuckin’ well, y’can squeeze my hand, c’mon now. S’just our little bubbie trying to come see us, gonna meet our baby today, huh?”

“What if it’s a girl?” YN can help but grin in between pants and heaves.

Harry was truthful when he said he didn’t care if it was a boy or a girl as long as they were healthy - he would be happy if he had a fourth boy.

But YN knew that he would be blown away if they had a little girl (like he truly wanted). He had however already convinced himself they were having another boy.

“S’a boy,” Harry replies with a roll of his eyes.

It doesn’t take long until she’s in a hospital gown, on the bed, and her hands behind her knees - holding her legs up as she pushes.

“Fuck, oh my god,” YN hisses, she was close to the baby being born that there wasn’t any time to administer her an epidural.

“Y’got it,” Harry encourages, one hand on her pulsing stomach and the other on her shoulder, “Mama, look at you - doing so so fucking well. C’mon give us another baby boy, right?”

YN can only nod tearfully, her hair was matted to her neck and forehead, droplets of sweat drizzling down her temple as she groaned and cursed.

“I can’t-, it’s too much,” YN cries at one point which makes Harry lean down to thumb away the exercition.

“Gave us three healthy babies this way, know y’can,” Harry promises, peppering kisses all over her face as she scrunches her face.

“Okay, we see the head and the baby has a just a little sprinkling of hair! Unlike your other ones!” The doctor laughs as they maneuver to pull out the baby.

He had also delivered the other three, whom all came out with thick brunette curls that were unmistakably their father’s.

“Mom! Give me a few more pushes and then we’re golden!”

YN bears down, eyes pinched shut, lips quivering, and veins sticking out on her neck as she pushes with all of her might.

“Here we go!”

A shrill, piercing cry erupts in the room as YN’s head falls back in exhaustion and she lets out a loud sob of relief.

“Congratulations on your new baby girl!” The doctor announces holding up the wriggling newborn who was indeed female.

Despite the exhaustion, YN knew she had to look at Harry who had frozen like a statue - his eyes wide in surprise and puffy lips parted.

“S’a girl?” He asks dumbly, even as he watches the nurses begin to clean up the baby, “I….S’a baby girl?”

A nurse chuckles, “Yes, Mr. Styles. A healthy little baby girl.”

And Harry just…he just looses it.

He’s sobbing with a hand over his mouth as he stares at his newborn daughter, “Oh my fuckin’ god. S’a little girl. We have a daughter, mama.”

YN is just as excited but she nods contently, Harry’s hand is combing through her hair and he leans down to nuzzle her cheek, whispering praises, “Did so good. Best mama out there. Gave us four babies. Y’bloody amazing.”

Then the baby is being laid on her bare chest and Harry is just bewildered, he expected another carbon copy of himself like with his boys but…

“Fuck,” He chuckles tearfully, scrubbing his cheeks with his hand, “She looks exactly like you. She’s fuckin’ breathe-taking, s’beautiful. Mama, look at ‘er, she’s absolutely perfect.”

The newborn is squeaking and rooting in their mother’s breast, already knowing what it’s looking for an instinct.

“Tha’s m’girl, already knows where the best place on this earth is,” Harry laughs boyishly, carefully running his fingers over smooth skin as YN can’t do anything but roll her eyes at him.

And he’s just…enamored.

Harry doesn’t take his eyes off of her for even a moment.

She is magnetic and Harry can’t pull as way as he continuously traces her small, familiar features that are all encompassing of her mother.

“Mu-Mum,” Harry sniffles when his mother picks up the phone, it’s late - nearly two in the morning and his wife and daughter were settled and both asleep.

“Oh dear, is everything going okay?” Anne asks nervously.

“Yeah, everything’s ama-amazing,” Harry tells her, voice cracking on amazing as he tries to keep himself quiet, “W-we had a little girl, mum. S-she’s s-so pretty and delicate and just…she-she’s perfect and healthy.”

Harry and Anne talk for a bit until their daughter starts wriggling with discomfort and they hang up for the night.

YN was out like a light, sleep had settled deep in her bones, and her body was completely worn down so nothing was waking her right now.

He tugs off his shirt, picks up his daughter from the bassinet, and tucks her against his bare chest so she’s cuddled right against his pec.

“Y’know I love y’so much already?” Harry whispers to the eight pound bundle in his arms, “Already obsessed w’you, just like I am with y’mama.”

He moves to the hospital recliner and kicks his feet up, “We wanted y’so so much. I knew I wanted babies w’your mama after the third date. Never loved someone like I love y’mama and y’big brothers.”

Briar let’s put a huff, blinking blearily at her father, and letting out at big yawn that has Harry giggling softly, “Look at you. Y’my lil’ mama, huh?”

The next morning, Harry had snuck out to get her a Starbucks and when he came back his wife was feeding their daughter.

“How are y’feelin’, mama?” Harry murmurs quietly, placing her cup down before cradling her cheek and kissing her a long moment.

“Sore, tired, happy,” She replies, they both just stare down at the suckling baby who isn’t having any issues with eating.

“I’m so pro-“

They’re cut off by a knock before the door cracks open, Anne appears with three little boys in tow who have wide curious eyes.

There is a echo of ‘daddy!’ and ‘mama!’ as they scamper in, Easton who is nearly seven is calmer than his brothers - simply trails over to his dad to stand cautiously next to him.

Cash and Ezra scuttle towards their mother and Harry had to stand up quickly and scoop both of them up before they can crawl on the bed.

They grumble as Harry rounds them up until they’re all looking at him, “We have to be careful with mama and the baby, okay? I need y’to say, ‘yes daddy’.”

All the boys agree, timidly walking over to the bedside, where YN greets them all with forehead kisses before rearranging their daughter for the boys to see.

“Meet your little sister, her name is Briar,” YN tells them with a smile as the squeaky baby blinks at her crowd of big brothers.

“S’my baby!” Ezra squeaks excitedly, making everyone laugh and Harry picks him up to prop him on his hip.

“Yeah, she’s gonna be your lil’ baby, huh?” Harry coos, heart bursting with an unexplainable amount of love in his heart.

They let all the boys up on the small hospital bed, surrounding the little bundle with intrigued - Easton seems the least excited until Harry guides his hand to his sister’s.

When Briar wraps her fingers around his thumb tightly, Easton looks up in excitement, “She likes me, Daddy!”

Cash hesitantly rubs his palm on her other hand and squawks out a giggle when she does the same to his hand, “Look mama!”

“She loves you lots already,” YN assures them, hand combing through his unruly curls that were getting a bit long.

Ezra, however, nuzzled deeply into his mother’s side with a sad whine, a little jealous as he stares conflicted at his sister.

“No, bad baby,” The two and a half year old frown before kicking his feet out a bit in frustration at the situation.

“Ezra, absolutely no kicking or I’m taking you off the bed,” Harry replies firmly with a raised eyebrow, “We’re nice to the baby, have t’take care of her, right?”

It only takes few minutes for Ezra to settle and begins to pepper kisses all over Briar’s head and offering her one of his dolls.

Harry had went from worrying about never finding someone he could click with, worrying he would end up alone to having an amazing wife and four children who love him so much.

He starts tearing up again and it startles Cash, is demanding to be picked up by his father, “Daddy! Why are y’crying?”

Harry makes eye contact with YN as he picks up his son and murmurs, “Daddy is just happy…really really happy.”

—

Harry Styles Seen Grabbing Coffee After Being Fined $125,000 for Leaving Mid-Game

It is alleged that allstar baseball player, Harry Styles, left mid-game from Yankee Stadium due to his wife going into labor.

It seems to be confirmed that their fourth child was born as Harry was spotted by paparazzi snagging a coffee right next to a hospital.

He looked exhausted and refused to answer any questions from the paps as they trailed him before he allegedly cursed them out before disappearing back into the hospital.

The only question he responded to was about his large fine from the night before and he simply responded (quite cockily), “Happy to pay it, doesn’t put a dent in my bank account.”

2K notes View Post

lookedlikeanamericansinger

1 year ago

MEANT TO BE ✴︎ SUGURU GETO

✴︎ summary: when Suguru defects, he asks you to come with him -- but he's not going to take no for an answer. ✴︎ cw: 18+, dead dove, do not eat, smut, dub/con, degradation (use of "monkeys"), kidnapping, hostage, yandere(?)! geto, mentions of violence (no graphic descriptions), fingering, (afab!receiving), oral (afab!receiving), reader is a follow sorcerer at jujutsu tech. ✴︎ wc: 6,046

“Come with me,” when those words left Geto’s mouth, you knew he had truly lost his mind.

“Come with you?” You repeat, as you turn slowly from your kitchen sink, your muscles tense — your cursed weapon was in your bedroom, your cursed technique wouldn’t be enough to stop him, and your cellphone was on the counter between the two of you, “Suguru, I just got a call from Satoru, not twenty minutes ago about what you’ve done-"

“And what have I done, besides try to do what’s right?” And he steps towards you, one hand in his pocket, and you step back, reaching for your phone that you thought laid on the counter behind your bag, only for him to wave it in front of you, “I thought you of all people would see that,”

Your face twists in disgust, “You killed innocent people—"

“I killed monkeys,” he spits through gritted teeth, “I killed monkeys who do nothing but produce curses and kill sorcerers. Why should the strong live subservient to a race of lower beings?”

You blink, “Do you hear yourself, Suguru? What happened to the strong have to protect the weak?”

“Why should the strong have to watch all the people they care about die, only to die at the hands of the supposed weak?” his gaze is dark, eyebrows knit together, “if you join me—"

“I’m not joining you—"

“—we can be together,” you stare at him, and he steps closer, again, and this time you don’t step away, “in a new world, we could rule over a new age,”

“Fuck you,” you scoff, as you move towards the door, “I thought Satoru was the one with a god complex, not you,”

And in a moment, he has you pinned against the wall, arms above your head, “I’ve been patient with you, love, but unfortunately I’m not in the business of taking no for an answer,” and he presses a kiss to your neck, making you shiver, “either you come with me, or I’ll let Satoru find your remains splattered against your walls,”

Your heart lurches, fear slowly settling in, as you realize this wasn’t Suguru - your Suguru who you spent afternoons with messing with Satoru, your Suguru that waited for you with an umbrella to walk back to Jujutsu High when it was raining, your Suguru that gently kissed you in a classroom when you were being far too hard on yourself — no, this was Geto, a special grace curse user.

“Will you really kill me?” You ask slowly, willing your voice to stay even, “after everything, you’ll make the choice to kill me, and no one else from Jujutsu High,”

“I don’t want to, sweetheart. There’s no meaning, no meaning without you,” his lips curl in a cruel imitation of what his smile was, “but if you leave me no choice because, I can’t let you live if you’re not by my side,”

A bitter chuckle leaves your throat, “Is this supposed to be romantic? Am I supposed to fall into your arms at the prospect of living?” you spit in his face, “fuck you.”

He flinches, his mouth agape, as he wipes the spit from his cheek with his thumb, “I thought you’d say that,” and then the plane of existence is cracked open behind him, as a swirl of curses manifest and you close your eyes, and wait.

You had no regrets.

But you do when you wake.

Your head aches, fuck, and you can’t get your bearings, your ears are ringing — a jolt shoots up your spine, as your eyes adjust to the darkness. A curse? An enemy?

No, it was both.

Suguru stands in front of you, hands in his pocket, “Hello my love,”

“Fuck you,” you spit with as much venom as you can muster, as you struggle to move, your hands chained down in bindings that restricted your cursed energy, “fuck-"

“Don’t be in such a rush, we’ll get to that part,” and his voice is so lilting, it sends a chill down your spine.

“You touch me, and I’ll break every bone in your body,” you say through gritted teeth, and his lips curl into a smile, a small chuckle parting his lips.

“And how could you do that, my love?” He steps forward, as his fingers hold your chin, “you’re mine to do with what I wish,” and your voice catches in your throat, as real fear crawls it’s way up your stomach, “but I don’t care to force my affection into you, I’ll have you begging for it soon enough,”

And your stomach turns, as he steps away from you again, “so what do you call this?” You ask quietly, as you lift your chained wrists.

“A matter of circumstance,” he frowns, as he holds his head, “I hate to do this, but I must remind you of how much you love me, how much we love each other, and until you remember, I cannot allow you out of those restraints.”

“I’ll never love you, with or without them,” you surge forward, the restraints grating against your skin, “I never loved you to begin with,”

He looks at you, with almost pity, “We both know that’s not true,” you waver under the weight of his gaze and you despise how you can’t deny it, “was the first time we shared a kiss a lie? After we had gone on that mission where we saw far too many horrors for children to see? Was it a lie those nights you came to my dorm to sleep in my arms when you couldn’t otherwise? Was it-“

“I loved you,” you whisper, “the you were before - the you that wasn’t a murderer, the you that—"

“The me that was allowing us to live under the thumb of these disgusting monkeys, the ones who kill us and let us be killed for their sake, while the corpses of my friends and sorcerers pile up like sacrifices on a pyre,” and you know he’s talking about Haibara now, “I couldn’t continue to live for a world like that, and I couldn’t allow you to continue living in it either,”

“Haibara would hate who you’ve become,” you whisper quietly into the darkness, as he glances back at you, no emotion stirring in his expression, as if he’s already thought this a million times before.

“But at least he would be alive,” your mouth open and closes, as tears burn at your eyes, “and I couldn’t stand to watch a world where more of my comrades would die for a cause that was setting them up for failure — I couldn’t stand for a world where I would lose you—"

His voice breaks, and you shake your head.

“You lost me sooner, by leaving, by killing innocent people-“

“No one is innocent in this world,” he cuts you off, “everyone’s hands are bloodied one way or another - just by living, humans contribute to the death of sorcerers, creating curses that inevitably lead to someone’s demise - whether it’s another human or a sorcerer,”

“It’s not their fault that they create curses—"

And he gives a bitter laugh, “Then whose fault is it? I never took you to be naive, my love,”

“Don’t call me that,” and he gives a twisted smile.

“Why wouldn’t I? When I love you,” he steps closer, holding your chin, “I love you so much I’m willing to risk you despising me, just so I can call you mine,”

“I’ll never be yours,” and he leans forward, making you squeeze your eyes shut, but he presses his lips to your forehead.

“You already are,” and he turns to leave, his robes sweeping behind him, “and I’ll get your heart too — one way or another.”

You only can keep track of the days by Geto’s visits. He is sure to visit you in the evenings, after his work is done. And each day he comes back more bloodied than the one previously. He always washes himself with the sink in your cell, before he turns to you.

“I want you to see what these people are — nothing more than animals. Animals that make money or curses or both - tools that run their course,”

“Just because you keep me chained up in here doesn’t mean you have to bore me to death as well,” you hang your head, and he looks at you, tilting your chin up with his fingers.

And he tries a different tactic, “You have been refusing your food for days, when are you going to eat? You can’t go on like this,” his voice has an edge of concern, “there’s nothing in the food that can harm you,”

“Says the kidnapper,” you mutter, “I’m not hungry,” and your stomach almost growls on cue, and a chuckle escapes his lips.

“Your body tends to betray you, my love,” and he grabs your food, lifting a spoonful of fried rice to your lips, “eat,”

“I’m not—“ and he raises an eyebrow — and you scowl, “I don’t want to be fed by you,”

“You didn’t mind before - you insisted I feed you between classes. Always vending machine junk too—"

“It wasn’t junk—it was—"

“An acquired taste,” he waves you off, his lips curling into a smile, “well, I always fed you, and I always will, so please?” And he offers you the spoon. You glance at him, before taking the spoonful.

And you note the bags under his eyes, and the shallowness of his face, “Have you been eating? Or sleeping?”

And he looks up, offering you another spoon, “I-"

“You haven’t been,” you shake your head, “and yet you have the gall to tell me to eat,” and you take the spoon from his hand, offering it to him, “it’s not poison, right?”

And he cracks a small smile, taking the spoonful, “you don’t have a poison cursed technique that I don’t know about?”

“You wouldn’t be alive still if I did,” and he laughs at that, and the sound makes your stomach flip — just like the first time you heard him make it for you when you had one-upped Satoru. The first time that you realized you wanted to be the one to always make him laugh like that.

Days pass, and his visits become more frequent. He doesn’t tell you of the people he murders - he learns better than to tell you - but the blood on his clothes doesn’t escape your notice. But he tells you of the sorcerers he finds that are oppressed — tells you of the two girls he’s taken under his wing. But each day, he looks more tired than the next, until you call him over to you.

“Lay down,” and he blinks, “you need to sleep,”

“I-"

“You look terrible,” you say bluntly, “lie down,” and he glances at your bed that you sat on the edge of, the chains around your wrists.

He moves towards the bed, lying down, but his head doesn’t lay on the pillow, but instead your lap, “Geto-"

“Suguru,” he corrects, peering up at you, his eyes barely staying open, “please,” and your resistance breaks, the exhaustion of being alone, the need for human contact, the softness of his body against yours - sends your walls crumbling to dust. Your fingers comb through his dark locks, softly undoing the tangles in them. And his breathing evens with time, as you lie back against the wall.

“Suguru,” you whisper into the darkness, as your eyes shut as well, and you don’t see his lips curl into a smile.

You don’t realize you fall asleep as well, until you wake a few hours later, and you’re asleep against his chest, his warm arms engulfing you. And you could swear the two of you were napping in an empty classroom, hiding from Yaga and Satoru, on a warm afternoon. And he’d whisper in your ear, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

But it wasn’t a classroom, it was a cell. And those hands no longer exorcised curses — they murdered humans.

But you could pretend. Just this once. You bury your head in his chest, and let yourself drift. But only this one time.

When you wake next, he’s gone, the only memory of him is the unchained bindings on your wrists, the faint smell of him on your clothes, and the ghost of his touch still clinging to you.

The next few days his visits grew more frequent, but only for sleep, as he nestled beside you, as you pretended to be asleep. It became routine. At first, you would sleep turned away, but by morning, you were sleeping nestled in his chest. And then you dared to ask, “why do you come here to sleep? You must have a better bed somewhere else,”

And he gives a phantom of a chuckle, “Well, that bed doesn’t have you, does it?”

And his hand dares to breach your skin before sleep steals away your consciousness, and you can’t help but let it happen — because it hurts too much to pull away.

And you don’t know why.

He doesn’t come back for several days. The only interaction you have is one of his followers bringing you food each day, and they don’t answer your questions regarding their ‘lord.’ And each day you grow more anxious, picking at your nerves like you picked at your scabs — incessantly and unnecessarily.

What if he was dead? What did it matter? All the more quickly you could return to jujutsu high, you could return to your life - a life without Geto. But the same question remained posed in your head — what if he was dead?

Would you see his dead body before jujutsu high disposed of it? Before they forced Shoko to autopsy it for any secrets the higher ups could lock away - as if he were a failed experiment rather than a person.

But he had killed so many - wouldn’t death only be right? Would that bring justice? Would that be peace? But the question remained, hanging in the forefront of your head, like a dead body from the rafters, a rope tied around their neck—

What if he was dead?

But days later, your door swings open and it’s him — “Suguru,” you nearly all but tumble out of your bed, scrambling to his side as your gaze swept over his form. Scarlet ran down his body, cuts, bruises, and scratches littered what was visible of his skin, “what happened?”

He doesn’t answer, a blank expression on his face, his hair come loose from his usual bun, bags under his eyes that tell tales of what he saw without him speaking a word of them. You reach for him tentatively, words scattered on the floor of your mind that you were desperately trying to collect, “is this your blood or someone else’s?”

“Both,” he murmurs, his eyes still far gone, as his gaze shifts to the floor, “I have no right to ask — but can you—I can’t stand to have anyone else touch me—“ and his voice breaks, breaks for the first time — the same voice that didn’t break after Riko’s death, the same voice that didn’t break after Satoru was taken away from him, the same voice that didn’t break after Haibara — it broke.

And it broke you.

“Strip,” you say simply, but you undo his robes for him, “I need to see what damage you’ve done to your body,” you busy yourself with undressing him to escape the fact that you’re undressing him. You had seen his body times before, at first in dorm rooms late at night, when you cuddled next to him, desperate for a comfort he could only provide, and then between heated kisses and intimate touches that left you near breathless and needy for him, and then distant embraces that left you feeling more lonely and far from him than before. But this was different.

He was different.

You stripped away the clothing to find him bloodied and bruised to an almost impressive, but terrifying extent. The blood smeared on his skin was mostly another’s — you learned once you started to clean his cuts and bruises with a damp rag, “Do you want to talk about it?”

His eyes slowly glide to you, cold as glaciers, “Do you want to hear about it?”

“I’m asking, aren't I?” you sigh, as his gaze drops once again, and your hands still, one of your hands drifting to his chin, tilting his eyes to meet yours, “Suguru-”

And he’s kissing you.

His lips are soft, just as you remembered. You remember the first moment you noticed his lips — it was when you had fed him a pocky after he had swallowed a curse, his brow scrunching with slight disgust — never quite getting used to the taste, but having grown as accustomed to it as he could (as far as someone could grow accustomed to swallowing what was akin to a vomit soaked rag used clean shit). You sat beside him, a pocky between your lips, as you offered him one in your hand. And his gaze softened, leaning down and biting the one between your lips instead. And then you couldn’t stop staring at his lips — wondering how they felt against yours.

He tasted like blood now, metallic and sharp as his jaw was now — no longer having the soft curve of childhood it was maybe a year ago. He swallows your gasp eagerly, giving you leeway to pull away, but you don’t. You can’t. Your lips press back into his, and he smirks against your lips, his arm wrapping around the middle of your back, so he was engulfing you even as he sat. His teeth bare down on your bottom lip, making you moan lightly, and his tongue sneaks between your lips with practiced ease, but it's no longer the sweet assault it once was — it's an onslaught, a razing of your defenses, and he knows the weaknesses of each curtain wall and bastion.

“Suguru, wait—” but he’s impatient, he’s always so impatient — the first time you had kissed, he couldn’t stop at just one kiss, he needed your lips to be kiss bitten red until he was satisfied. His hands are so large and calloused, gliding up your sides, as he pulls you into his lap, “we were talking,” you protest, but he empties the words from your head with his lips pressed to your jaw, “Why are you—”

“I don’t want to talk,” his raven locks fall in front of his face, his eyes somehow even darker, “I just want you, please,”

And your heart squeezes and breaks, the walls crumbling to nothing, as you lean in and kiss him this time, fingers threading through his his hair, while your other hand rests on his bare chest, if only to feel his heartbeat under your touch.

He was alive. Alive.

“Please,” you sigh, as he toys with the hem of your shirt, “don’t tease me,”

“Like you haven’t teased me with your existence each and every day I’ve known you, my love,” he chuckles, a noise deep from his chest that rumbles against your palm and sends a shiver down your spine, and he lifts your hand, kissing your wrist, his nose pressed against your pulse, “Do you know how much I want you? How much I need you?” and he answers the question for you, as he leans forward, his teeth graze your neck, pain and pleasure mixing in a twisted way.

“Suguru—“

He rises from his seat, looming over you, his arms sweeping — one behind you and the other holding your chin — it sends a chill down your spine, “I just arrived at a village where a child was being held - said to be cursed. But those monkeys were the ones who were—“ he cuts off, “I came too late. They had killed her - sacrificed her to purge their village of their curses - a five year old girl,” he frowns, his gaze falling, “they failed to realize they were the true curses. So I purged the world of their existence,”

You’re quiet for a moment, as he speaks, “she was a child and they ripped her to shreds,” and a tear slips down his cheek.

Your fingers brush away his tear, before you lean up and kiss him. Your lips glide against his lightly, “it’s not your fault,”

“I am always too late - I was there - I couldn’t-“ and you know he isn’t just talking about the girl anymore.

Or at least this one.

“What happened to Riko wasn’t-"

“He shot her right through the head in front of me,”

“You couldn’t sense him - Satoru could barely sense him with his six eyes—"

“Satoru could have stopped it—"

“Satoru died and came back trying to stop Toji,” you crush your lips to Suguru, if only to get him to stop talking, “there was nothing more you could do,”

“But I couldn’t stay,” he whispered, “I couldn’t watch more people die - more of my friends die, piled up like offerings on a pyre for animals who only kill us in the end,”

“I know,” you whisper, “I know-"

“You don’t,” his voice breaks, “all I could think about was finding your dead body one day,” you cup his cheeks again, pressing your lips to his forehead.

“I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere,” you murmur, and he kisses you — and he tastes less like blood and more like him — his arms wrapping around your waist, as he pulls you closer, “Suguru,” you shouldn’t be doing this.

“I just want to feel good,” he murmurs, his eyes lidded with lust, “let me make you feel good, love,”

His lips brush yours, and the ravine between you shrinks to a crack, as your bodies bridge the gap, before tumbling over the cliff.

His hands are everywhere. His hands have mapped your body times before, but the gentle and awkwardness had all but faded, only leaving hunger. Already, his fingers are sliding under your shirt, calloused hands sliding over your bare skin.

His lips only pause when his hands run over a new scar you had gotten right before he had gone rogue, “How did you get this?”

And his eyes are dark, “I was on that mission, with Nanami and Haibara,” your gaze falls, as his fingers trace the scar, raised and angry still - just as he was, “we got separated. There was two grade 1s instead just the one we were told. I got this when it caught me by surprise,” you swallow thickly, “but I was lucky it was all I got,” you squeeze your eyes shut, “I sometimes wish it was me instead of-"

“Don’t say that,” his words are as sharp as they always were, sharp as his touch, sharp as the curses that he pushed past his lips and the ones that left them, “don’t ever say that,”

And his palm curls around your neck, “but-"

He yanks you into a brutal kiss, forcing you swallow his words, and his tongue, as you moan, as he tastes you, “Still the sweetest thing I’ve tasted, even with the stupid things that leave your mouth,” he almost growls, as he lifts you onto the bed.

“Suguru,” your back hits the mattress, barely bouncing against the springs before he looms over you - his smile was the same as it always was, but it sent a shiver down your spine - because you realize now how predatory it was, “are we—"

“You’re mine, love,” his lips hover over yours, teasingly so, as his fingers cup your chin and his breath warms your skin, sending heat to the tips to your already curling toes, “even if I did, we’d find our way back; one way or another,” his lips brush gently over the nape of your neck, “I’d always come for you — one way or another,”

Your lips meet again, and again, as his hands slide up your sides, but this time bringing your shirt with them, as he lifts it over your head. Your skin prickles at the cold air in the room and at his hot gaze dragging up your body.

“You’re still the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen,” he whispers, as his hands gently traces the curves of your body, and it makes you shiver - the hands that had slaughtered people earlier today could be this gentle with you.

“And I still think you’re far more beautiful than I am,” your fingers run through his jet-black locks, “everyone had a crush on you,”

He snorts, “Everyone?”

“You should have seen the looks you and Satoru always got,” you roll your eyes, “the two princes of Jujutsu High - and you, you had the personality to match,”

“Well I wasn’t concerned about everyone,” his hands slip over his waist, “I only had eyes for one other,”

“Satoru?” And he rolls his eyes.

“Okay two others,” and your hand reaches to smack him, but he’s got both your hands pinned, before he’s leaning down to kiss your neck, “so temperamental,” he chides, “what am I going to do with you, Princess?”

His other hand slips down your body, past the waistband of your shorts, ripping a gasp from your lips, “already so wet f’me,” his voice rasps with a chuckle, “you’ve been needing me for a while, haven’t you, baby?”

“Suguru—“ and his fingers between to tease your leaking folds, making you squirm under his touch.

“So perfect,” his long and lithe finger teases your lips apart, “I’m surprised you haven’t soaked through your shorts, probably thought about me every night I slept next to you - you were waiting for me to roll over and take you, weren’t you, baby?” And his finger finally slips in, your back arching and mouth in a silent ‘o.’

And he hums, as he begins to pump his finger, slowly at first, but it isn’t long before another joins, scissoring and stretching you, “you’re soaking the sheets, baby, such a dirty girl,” He leans down taking a nipple between his teeth, sucking harshly.

“Please,” it was too much, too soon, and he’s grinning as his teeth dig into your soft skin, a soft groan as he feels you clench around his fingers. He holds your legs down in place, humming as they shake under his touch.

“So fucking tight, can’t wait to feel you around my cock, Princess,” and you’re so fuckin’ close - wound too tight by his touch, by his presence, by him - and when his thumb rubs circles on your clit, your hips begin to ride his fingers. He chuckles, as he leans down to kiss you, “what would the people at Jujutsu High think? Seeing you ride my fingers like a slut? Probably think you’re locked away, waiting for them to save you, not begging for me to fuck you,”

“Sugu,” and he curls his fingers just right, just as he bends down to suck on your clit. You moan his name, as you fall apart, back arching as you make a mess all over his hand, but his mouth is there to clean it up. His hot breath is the only warning you get before his tongue begins to lap at your drenched folds.

“Never get enough of you creamin’ all over my fingers for me, pretty girl,” the noises he made as he licked, slurped, and sucked were enough to make you a mess, his lips shiny with your release, “how did I go so long without tasting you, baby? Almost makes swallowing curses worth it if I can eat you out after,” his words were as lewd as the sounds you made, your hips involuntarily fucking his mouth, as he moved his mouth to your clit again, and slipped two fingers in, “tasted so good the first time, gotta have another taste baby,”

And your initial whine turns into a moan, your fingers finding refuge in the soft locks of his hair, tugging him impossibly closer, as he’s bullying your overstimulated clit with his mouth. And he enjoys it as much as you do, grinding his aching erection into the mattress, his jaw aching as he’s desperate to taste every inch of you and slurp every drop of your pussy will give him. Your thighs close in on him, as he tongue fucks you over and over, gushing as he draws another orgasm from you.

“Sugu, oh my god-“ and that’s all the warning he gets before your back arches and your toes curl. He’s grinning against your folds as he eagerly swallows your release. The tension snapped like a wire that had been on the last fringes of holding you together, and you fell completely apart.

Luckily, Suguru was there to put you back together.

You’re panting, utterly blissed out as you watch him tug off his boxers, his dick already red and so pretty, pearly white bead of pre cum nearly dripping from the tip. You lick your lips looking at him, and he smiles, so sweetly that it sent a shiver down your spine.

“So needy for me, the man you had refused to love, and now look at you,” he leans down to kiss you, letting you taste the sweet and bitter taste of your release, “such a little slut for me, aren’t you sweetheart? What happened to that mouth on you?”

He drags his thumb down your bottom lip, as your eyes flutter down to his cock again, “I have better uses for my mouth,” you kiss his chest, teasing his skin with your tongue.

And then he’s shifting you, your legs pushed up and over his shoulders, as he drags his tip over your dripping folds, “I think I’ll have you use my mouth after I use this naughty cunt, let you clean our cum off me,”

“Sugu, please, fuck,” you cry, and god he can’t wait to see your pretty face cry, as he stuffs your mouth with his dick, but he had patience. He could wait - he had waited long enough.

“Gonna need you to beg for it,” he murmurs, groaning as your cunt nearly sucking his cock in, “you fought me so long and so hard and now here you are, so pliant f’me, so I need to hear it — who do you belong to?”

“Suguru—“ and his lips press to yours, sloppily and rough, as if he wants to steal the logic from your mind, but he already had from the moment his lips touched yours, “please,” you whimper, and he’s spanking your cunt.

“Please, what?” And his lips are curled in a grin as his lips trail kisses along your jaw, “gonna have to hear the words, my filthy girl,”

And you can’t - you need him, “I’m yours,” your legs lock around his shoulders, “I belong to you, you own me,”

Your words slip from a whine to a moan, as he sinks his length into you, inch by inch, and it’s enough for him to groan, fuck, it’s enough to make him cum on the spot, “you’re so tight, baby - it’s been too long since I’ve had you, gotta make this cunt remember my shape,”

“I wanted you so bad,” you gasp, as his hands grasp at your thighs, fingernails digging into your soft flesh, “but you kept getting farther away from me, and then you were gone,” and his gaze soften, even as you moan when he bottoms out, “I loved you - I love you—"

“I love you too - I always have,” his teeth drags into his thigh, sucking and soothing the mark, he presses his cheek to the skin, “I left because I didn’t want to hurt you - and I couldn’t rise to your level,” his fingers tilt your chin to meet his, “so I had to drag you down to mine,”

You moan as he gives a sharp thrust, “Fuck, Sugu,” as his hips slap against yours, all thoughts evaporating from your mind, as he fucks you, hard and fast, any words you knew dissolve away, leaving only his name behind (and a few choice swear words).

Meanwhile, Suguru can’t stop speaking, “Never gonna want to leave me again, my sweet girl,” he purrs, “look at this sweet cunt, it doesn’t even want let my cock go without sucking me back in,” his words nearly drowned out by the sloppy noises of both of your cum soaked skin meeting together in thrusts, “tell me you’ll never leave, tell me you’ll stay,” and his movements slow to a stop, as you whine, “tell me,”

“I’ll never leave you, I can’t,” you look up with eyes glassy with need, “can’t ever leave you, I love you,” and he’s fucking you harder, feeling your walls clench around him as you’re moaning his name as you cum. He comes undone too as you squeeze him, painting your insides with his thick cum. And you’re arching your back as you feel yourself full of him - so fucking good and full — as you come down from your high.

And then all too soon, he’s pulling out, only to flip you over, on all fours, “Not done yet,” he only murmurs, leaning forward over you, as his still hardening cock bumps against your sensitive clit, “gonna make sure you never forget who you belong to,” his fingers collect your mixed cum dripping down your thighs to only shove it back in your still overly sensitive cunt.

You lurch forward, knees buckling, as his fingers working you, “still so fucking tight even after I fucked you so good, Princess? Your cunt is still so needy for my cock,” he kisses your clit, before slapping it, the wet squelch enough to make you throb, “you ready for me, my love?” He grunts, raspy and raw.

“Please,” you whine, and he doesn’t sink in slowly this time - your cunt nearly sucks him in, your mixed releases letting him slip in with ease, “f-fuck,”

And Suguru hums, all too pleased, “Not so defiant now that you’re fucked out for me, baby,” his hips piston into you, and all you can feel, smell, and taste is him, all you can hear is your blood in your ears and the sloppy noises of Suguru fucking you.

You were so close — you were so stretched out, his thrusts balls deep, as his hand reached around to turn your face to his to kiss your lips. It was sloppy, his calloused hand gripping your neck, lightly squeezing, as his tongue tasted your mouth, intent on having all of you, swallowing your moans eagerly.

“Doing so well for me, Princess,” he praises, his jaw set as your walls clench at his cock, “such a fucking good girl for me,” It was as lewd as his other hand reaching around to to rub roughly at your folds, “need you to squirt for me, need you to drench me,” and it’s too much for you.

You moan his name, shaking as you cum, squirting all over his cock as your release slides down your thighs, and Suguru follows shortly after, with a few rough thrusts, his hands grabbing your shaking hips to hold in place as he spurts his cum again inside you.

He’s panting and groaning, as he slips from you, a swear leaving his lips as he pulls out, his seed dripping down your thighs as well.

And you’re slumping on the bed, your sheets sticky with your release and sweat, as he gently turns you over, your chest rising and falling as he settles on top of you. His fingers brush your hair from your face, “Can we discuss moving you to the main house with me now?” He asks softly, as he presses sweet kisses to your flushed skin.

“Yes,” you murmur, your lips slowly meeting his in a soft kiss, “as much as I don’t agree with your methods still, I can’t live a day without you,” and he smiles, “I can’t help but be drawn to you,”

“And that’s why I couldn’t let you go - there has to have been a meaning to this,” he smiles, his fingers tracing the curve of your jaw, before he’s guiding your body so that you’re settled between his thighs, his cock brushing against your lips, “and now there always will be.”

✴︎ a/n: so this was inspired by a character ai (which i wanted to credit the creator but i can't find), but this was dark, so read the content warnings. i'm trying out different formats for my fics so excuse the changes. also i never was into geto until season 2 straight up hit me like the isekai truck.

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lookedlikeanamericansinger

3 years ago

🥺 so good

I wanna see gang yn tell Harry she’s pregnant- or see little moments between them while she’s pregnant, like finding out they’re having twins. 🥺

okay but I imagine this.

tw: violence, blood, weapons, smut

There is currently three dead men in their warehouse.

Harry has another one tied to a creaky old wooden chair, interrogating him with a sharp knife on his cheek, “Where the fuck is Richie? I know you killed one of my men.”

The man spits at Harry, leaning away from the blade, “Fuck you. I’m not talkin’.”

YN is watching casually from where she’s sitting on a countertop, a iced coffee in her hand, and she’s just admiring how hot her husband is.

His long hair is pulled up in a bun, his sharp jaw clenched, blood on his white shirt that’s clung a bit to his body with sweat and other fluids.

He’s so lean, muscular with bulging biceps, abs taut under his clothes. Her name tattooed proudly on his neck, little beads of sweat.

Harry slices down his cheek, tearing the skin open, “Tell me right now or I’m goin’ t’kill you. This is your last warning. I am about to show you why they call me Diablo,” Harry seethes, the knife dragging down to his neck.

He refuses to speak, Harry gets impatient and pulls out his weapon of choice - his desert eagle and delivers one resounding shot.

Harry looks unsympathetically at the rival gang members, his own men sitting back and letting the leader work.

The associates began to scuttle around to begin the clean up process.

Her husband tugs off his shirt and then shimmies out of his tight black jeans - tossing them carelessly by the bodies so his men can dispose of them.

Just in his tight briefs, his intricate morale of the depth of hell and the devil decorating his whole chest and stomach.

Then he’s trailing over to his wife, grabbing her jaw and searing their lips together for a long kiss as she runs a hand over his tensed abs.

It’s not the right moment, well it wouldn’t be for a normal couple but they weren’t any normal couple to start off with.

“I want to have a baby,” YN blurts out as her husband’s hands grip onto her thighs to pull her center against his.

Harry doesn’t look surprised often.

His mossy green eyes widen, puffy lips parting, as he searches her relax, open face, “You want me t’put a baby in you?”

She nods, feeling a nervous fluttering, they’d been married for three years - it had been on her mind a lot.

“If you aren’t - I know we’ve been talking about it. But if it’s not some-“ She stutters out as she observes Harry’s stoic face.

He leans forward, cupping her face, and telling her firmly, “I will give you whatever y’want, sweetheart. If y’want me to make y’a mommy - I’ll do it right now.”

By this point the men had dragged the bodies out to a nondescript van and were pouring industrial grade bleach on the tiled floor.

Harry turns around and booms, “Get the fuck out, right now.”

The associates pause, confused, Greg speaks, “But we just start-“

In true Harry form, he grabs his gun next to his wife, and fires at warning shot at their feet, “Fuck off or next time it’s going to be y’leg.”

They run out like there’s fire under their arses.

YN shouldn’t get wetter at that but she does.

He turns around after the leave, wastes no time to in yanking her shirt over her head, bra, and then roughly stripping off her legging, and panties

“Fuckin’ look at you, made you my wife, now m’make y’the mother of my babies,” Harry hisses when YN sneaks her hand in his briefs to tug his thick length out.

“Remember when we first met. You told me you never wanted to even have a girlfriend, let alone a wife. You told me you didn’t want kids,” YN murmurs as she pumps him with a firm grip.

Harry groans into her mouth, “Baby, jus’ like tha’. All that changed when I fell f’you.”

YN swipes her thumb over the tip before tugging the fabric down his narrow hips and guiding him right into where she’s so warm and ready for him.

“You told me love was made up by pathetic stupid people who were too dumb to realize it was a scam,” She reminds him, breath hitching when he stretches her perfectly.

As they’re waiting for drinks, Harry scoffs at a young couple kiss and cooing at each other on the other side of the way.

It was a really shady bar.

They were there to do business together - Harry and YN - nothing more than that.

“Fuckin’ idiots,” He shakes his head, swigging down his whiskey dry as soon as it’s placed in front of him - he doesn’t even flinch.

“They’re in love,” YN defends with a small smiles as she watches the man make the girl giggle with glee - just happiness.

“So y’a fucking idiot too?” Harry asks meanly, giving her a glance over with a pursed lip, “Guess y’beauty and no fuckin’ brains.”

“You have a real way with women, charmer,” She replies sarcastically, sipping her whiskey sour.

Harry laughs with a tinge of arrogance, “I don’t need charm. Any women and most men in this bar would fuck if they had the chance.”

“Well I’ll be one who won’t,” YN says haughtily.

His jaw clenches subtly, “Don’t be bitter, darling. Love is made up. It doesn’t exists. It’s for weak-minded little sheeps like you.”

—-

Harry takes a deep inhale, eyes dark as night, teeth bared as he tells her, “Our love isn’t what other average people have. I still believe all of that. My love f’you is s’strong I’d fuckin’ die for you this second.”

YN moans when he fucks in hard enough to make her skid back on the counter - he grips her harder and anchors her back down.

“D’you think any other man would do tha’ f’their wife? I mean truly do that? No. I’ve seen men let their wives die to save themselves,” Harry grits out, tugging her legs around his waist.

She is panting, not able to get a word out between breathes, he’s giving it to her so fucking well. Her nipples brushing against his sweaty chest, making it feel so much better.

Her grips her jaw hard, “Answer me.”

“Baby, I know, I know. I love you, please,” She begs loudly, whining when he wraps his hand around her neck.

“Open,” Harry orders, hand forcing her mouth open before spitting and then chasing it with his tongue into her mouth.

“H, m’coming.” YN warns him, pushing her hips into his until their skin is slapping and making noise in the room.

“Y’get so sweet when I’m fuckin’ you,” Harry praises, tweaking her nipple as she wets his cock even more than before.

He speeds up, sweat beading down his temple, he curses and grunts, “Gonna give y’a baby, give you anythin’.”

And when they finally slow to a halt, catching their breath, he whispers in a syrupy soft voice, “You’re my everything.”

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