Hook
Her scream still echoes in my chest.
I’ve loved you since the first time I wanted to kill you.
It wasn’t meant to leave my mouth. I keep my confessions buried under teeth and steel, where no one can touch them. But with her grinding down on me, bleeding and sobbing and clawing her name into my skin, it tore free before I could bite it back.
She’s still straddling me, trembling, sweat slicking her skin, her face streaked with blood and tears. Her cunt strangles me even now, pulsing slow, dragging the last drops from me as if her body refuses to let go.
Her eyes are wide, stunned, glassy—but not broken. Never broken. She looks like a blade pulled from fire, fragile in the glow, deadly in the dark.
My hand stays tangled in her hair, keeping her face close to mine. I can smell her breath, taste the iron and salt still clinging to her lips. I drag the hook up her spine, slow and deliberate, a reminder that softness is still a weapon in my hands.
“I meant every word,” I rasp, my voice low, guttural, scraped raw from her. “Love is just another kind of violence. And I’ll bleed you with it as long as you let me.”
Her lips tremble, her breath hitching against my mouth. She doesn’t speak. She doesn’t need to. Her silence is war enough.
I roll her suddenly, flipping us until she’s pinned beneath me again, glass crunching under her shoulders, the papers clinging to her like scripture. My cock slips from her but stays hard, wet with her ruin, twitching against her thigh.
My hand closes around her throat, thumb stroking the bruise I left earlier, claiming it again.
“You’re mine in hate, in blood, in screams,” I murmur, my hook tapping against her ribs, cold and sharp. “But now you’re mine in love, too. And that’s the cruelest vow of all.”
Her eyes flare, wet and burning, as if she’d rather I cut her open than say it again.
Good.
Because vows only matter when they hurt.
Her silence feeds me. I can feel the way it coils inside her chest, heavy, choking, louder than any scream she’s ever given me. She won’t say it. Won’t give me a word back. But her body speaks.
Her pulse hammers against my hand where I clutch her throat. Her cunt still twitches against my thigh, clinging to what I spilled inside her. Her nails tremble where they hover over the sheets, itching to claw at me, to drag me closer, to cut me open.
She thinks silence is resistance.
She doesn’t understand—it’s devotion.
I lean down, nose brushing hers, breath mingling, and whisper, “You’re terrified of love because it’s the only chain you can’t rip free. Hate makes you sharp. Pain makes you strong. But love?” My lips graze hers, cruel and soft. “Love makes you mine forever.”
Her eyes blaze, tears spilling hot and furious. She tries to buck me off, to twist away, but I hold her down, grinding my thigh harder between hers until she gasps, until her body betrays her again.
I smile, sharp and merciless. “There she is. My little fairy. Grinding even when she swears she’s free. You’re addicted, aren’t you? To the knife, to the hook, to the cock that makes you forget who you were before me.”
The hook drags slow across her ribs, pressing just hard enough to leave faint red trails. She shudders under me, chest rising fast, her breath catching as steel traces closer to the swell of her breast.
“You’ll never love me,” I murmur, letting the curve of the hook nudge her nipple until she whimpers. “But that doesn’t matter. I’ll love you hard enough for both of us. I’ll love you the way knives love flesh. The way fire loves oxygen. The way ruin loves beauty.”
Her sob breaks silent, teeth clenched, eyes burning into mine like she’d rather kill me than hear another word.
I press my forehead to hers, my smile unhinged, my voice low and certain.
“I don’t need your love, little fairy. I just need you to bleed when mine cuts you.”
Her silence is molten, heavy, the kind that burns hotter than screaming. She thinks she’s starving me with it, that by refusing to speak she’s denying me something.
She doesn’t know silence is my feast.
I press the hook harder into her nipple, dragging it slow in a circle until she gasps and arches up into me. My mouth curves sharp, teeth grazing her jaw. “Every twitch is a confession, little fairy. Every whimper is a signature. Your cunt’s already screaming louder than your throat ever could.”
My hand slides down her stomach, slow, deliberate, rough. I smear the dried blood crusted on her skin, marking her again, until my fingers dip lower. She jerks her hips, a sob breaking loose, and I laugh low in my chest.
“Fucking soaked,” I rasp, pressing two fingers against her clit. “Still. After all the blood, after all the glass, after I ripped you open and filled you—still, you’re begging for more.”
Her eyes flare wide, tears sliding hot down her face. She shakes her head, but her thighs clamp around my hand, trapping me there.
I grind the heel of my palm into her, cruel, relentless. “Hate me harder, little fairy. Hate me until you cum. Hate me so deep your body can’t tell the difference between a wound and an orgasm.”
She thrashes, nails clawing at my shoulders, leaving raw streaks across my skin. Her lips part, a moan torn free against her will.
I bite her throat, hard enough to bruise, my voice vibrating against her pulse. “That’s it. That’s my girl. You’re nothing but a ruin I can fuck into worship.”
The hook drags lower, cold steel tracing down her ribs, across her belly, until it rests against her slick heat beside my fingers. She jerks, a strangled cry spilling out.
“Shhh,” I croon, mocking soft. “Don’t fight it. The hook’s just jealous of my cock. Wants to feel what it does to you.”
I press both—the blunt curve of the hook and the sharp grind of my fingers—against her clit at once. She bucks, screaming, her voice finally ripping through the silence.
“God, listen to that,” I snarl, fucking her with my fingers while the steel toys at her folds. “Even your screams sound like you’re cumming for me.”
Her cunt spasms around nothing, clenching on air like it’s starving for me again. I drag my cock against her thigh, wet and hard, smearing her with proof.
“You don’t get to run,” I growl, shoving my fingers deeper, curling them until she sobs. “Not from the ink. Not from the blood. Not from this.” I slam my hips against hers, cock grinding into her, slick and violent. “You’re going to cum all over me while I remind you whose ruin you are.”
Her body jerks under me, thrashing, wrists clawing against my grip but her cunt says otherwise—squeezing, pulsing, dripping onto my hand. She’s a contradiction incarnate, and I want every filthy piece of it.
I curl my fingers inside her, knuckles grinding rough against the spot that makes her cry out strangled, broken. The hook presses against her clit, cold and merciless, and I watch her hips buck up into both at once. She’s fighting me with her mouth, with her eyes, but her body? Her body is begging.
“Listen to you,” I rasp, my breath hot against her ear, my hand working deeper, faster. “Whining, sobbing, dripping. You should be on your knees begging for mercy—but instead you’re spread open for my hand and steel like you were born for it.”
She screams when I grind the curve of the hook harder, her thighs clamping around my wrist, slick gushing down my fingers. I laugh low, cruel. “That’s it, little fairy. Wring yourself out for me. Paint my hand with every drop you swore you’d never give.”
Her nails dig into my arms, desperate, tearing tracks down my skin. She shakes her head, biting her lip hard enough to draw blood, but the sound still rips out of her—a moan so raw it echoes through the cage.
“Say it,” I snarl, slamming my fingers in deeper, twisting them until she bows off the bed. “Say what your body already knows.”
Her lips tremble, the words trapped, burning behind her teeth. Tears streak down her temples. The defiance still flickers in her eyes, but her cunt is soaking me, squeezing me, screaming the truth for her.
I lean close, hook grinding circles against her clit while my fingers fuck her deeper, harder, ruthless. My voice breaks sharp against her ear:
“Cum for me. Cum for the monster who will never let you go. Cum for the love that feels like a knife in your throat.”
Her scream shatters through the room. Her cunt clamps down on my fingers, spasming, pulsing, soaking me in violent waves. She writhes under me, her thighs trembling, her voice torn into sobs and moans as she drowns herself in the ruin I forced out of her.
I don’t stop. I drag it out, grinding the hook harder, curling my fingers until she’s shaking uncontrollably, until every sob is laced with ecstasy and hate in equal measure.
“Good girl,” I growl, her slick spilling down my hand, dripping across the papers beneath us. “Bleed, cry, scream—I don’t care. But you’ll always cum for me.”
Her body convulses around my fingers, spasms tearing through her, every nerve in revolt. She’s sobbing now, her voice cracked, her face streaked with tears, but her cunt still milks me, sucking my hand deeper like she can’t stop.
I curl my fingers again, ruthless, and press the hook against her clit until her scream shreds into a broken moan. Her hips jerk helplessly, caught between pain and pleasure, her thighs quivering around my wrist.
I lean close, my mouth brushing her ear, words sharp as knives.
“Confess.”
Her head thrashes, sweat soaking her hair, but I don’t let up. I drag her through another wave, my hand fucking her until she’s wailing, until her voice is raw.
“Confess what your body won’t stop telling me,” I growl, biting her throat, sucking until her skin blooms purple under my teeth.
She shakes her head, sobbing, choking on silence.
I slam my fingers deeper, grinding the hook harder against her clit, my voice a vicious snarl.
“Say it. Say you like it. Say you need it. Or I’ll split you open until you can’t walk.”
Her scream tears out of her, desperate, ruined. Her body convulses, slick flooding down my hand, her thighs quaking as she shatters again.
And then the words tumble out, broken, hoarse, soaked in shame:
“I… I like it. Fuck—please, I need it.”
The confession detonates inside me, hotter than blood, sharper than glass. My cock throbs, my grin stretches wide and feral. I drag my soaked fingers out of her, smearing her slick across her stomach, her chest, painting her in her own surrender.
“Good little fairy,” I rasp, voice guttural. “You’ll never stop needing it. And I’ll never stop giving it until you forget every word but mine.”
Her chest heaves, every breath ragged, her lips still trembling from the words she never meant to give me. I like it. I need it.
Music to a monster.
My fingers glisten in the firelight, dripping with everything I wrung out of her. Wetness coats my knuckles, warm, shining, proof of her betrayal of herself. I smear it over her lips first, slow and mocking, until she whimpers and tries to turn her head.
“No,” I snarl, catching her jaw with my other hand, forcing her face back to mine. My grip is iron, bruising, unyielding. “You confessed. Now swallow it.”
I shove my soaked fingers past her lips, pushing deep against her tongue. She chokes, gagging, tears spilling fresh, but I don’t stop. I curl my fingers, smearing her own release against the roof of her mouth, pressing until she has no choice but to suck me clean.
Her muffled sob vibrates around my hand, and my cock throbs hard at the sound. Her throat works, swallowing every filthy drop I push into her. Her eyes burn up at me, defiant even as her body betrays her again, her tongue dragging across my fingers like she can’t help herself.
“Good girl,” I rasp, dragging my fingers deeper, fucking her mouth slow, filthy, until saliva and slick drip from the corner of her lips. “Taste what you begged for. Taste what you need.”
Her lashes flutter, her throat working, every swallow another nail in the coffin of who she used to be.
When I finally drag my fingers out, strings of spit and wetness connect us. I smear the mess across her cheek, down her neck, marking her with it.
Then I grip her chin again, forcing her to look at me, my smile feral, unhinged.
“You’ll never spit me out,” I whisper. “Not my cock. Not my blood. Not my love. You’ll swallow me until I’m the only thing left inside you.”