There are two things that Damian knows that he knows Father doesn’t.
He has an older brother
He was dead
(And a secret third thing: Damian was glad he was dead. They did not get along.)
Well. No, correction, they were two things that Damian knew that Father didn't. Past tense. Strange magic swirled through the air and created a mirage before his eyes, and immediately a scowl forms across his face.
The mirage shifts and shimmers like the light hitting a slowly turning prism, and then it settles into a memory. One that Damian does not recall. Like looking into a tv screen, it shows, faintly, a room, with most of the magic going into the image of a crib.
His mother was standing on one side, and next to her, standing on his tiptoes was a small five year old boy looking up at her. With dark hair and skin that was only few shades lighter brown than Damian's, the little boy's resemblance to Damian was undeniable.
However, his eyes were blue. Not green. Damian's scowl deepens, and he sinks back. "Danyal." He mutters, and feels eyes turn on to him.
Danyal Al Ghul. Damian's older brother. A prodigal swordsman like Damian, and five years his senior. He'd be fifteen if he was still alive. His memory of the last time he saw his brother was still clear in his mind.
(A sword to Danyal's neck. Stars were glittering through his window. Damian was five, Danyal ten. He is not sure why Danyal had snuck into his room, all he remembers is hearing a sound and on instinct reaching for his sword.)
(His brother had intercepted easily. But had not shoved the sword away. Moonlight hit his blue eyes, and Damian remembers seeing the pupils shrink to let the light in. His eyes looked almost silver.)
(His brother bares his teeth at him. Damian wants to slice his neck more than anything, and he bares his teeth back. "Good." Danyal says, his voice low in a hiss, "Your reflexes are good, little brother.")
("Of course they are," Damian remembers snarling, and presses the sword closer. But it does not budge. "I am an Al Ghul.")
(Something unrecognizable passes through his brother's eyes, and his mouth twists into something like a smile. "I know." He says, and tilts his head downwards at him. "And you will be great.")
(His brother shoves the sword back, causing Damian to stumble. And like the wind, he is gone.)
(The next morning, he goes on a mission with mother and a few others. Mother is the only one to return with Danyal's sword, and a red-eyed look in her eyes. Damian does not mourn. Now there's only one of them.)
"Momma." The little Danyal-mirage speaks, a furrow between his childlike brows as mother lowers a bundle into the crib. His blue eyes watch her, and lifts onto his toes to peer into the crib as she sets the baby down. "Who is this?"
Their mother's hand comes to rest along his back. "This is Damian, my son." She murmurs, voice low. "He is your little brother. Protect him well."
Damian scoffs internally -- not likely. He remembers every spar he ever had with Danyal, every harsh word and insult. His pushing, pushing, pushing for Damian to get up. To try again. Do it again. The only kindness he ever showed him was when his fingers bled. And even that was harsh, firm. Rolling gauze around his wrist and scolding him, telling him how to wield his weapon better.
(It was the same as everyone else, but somehow it hurt worse coming from his own brother.)
But he watches his older brother's youngest self tilt his head to the side, and then reach his chubby hand through the crib's bars. He runs small, blunt fingers over the baby's arm, and the baby jerks. Through the crib's bars, Damian sees himself grab Danyal's fingers.
And he scowls even deeper.
And Danyal's eyes... widen. He lets out a little gasp, and a small smile Damian's never seen him wear tilts at the corner of his mouth as he looks up at their mother. "Mother," he whispers, "he grabbed me!"
Damian... his scowl falters, for a moment.
He doesn't wait for a response, he looks back to the baby with sparking eyes. His expression melts like sugar as he bounces the finger being gripped tight by the small hand. "Hello, little brother." His brother says, voice its of usual firmness, but there's more fondness underlying it than Damian's ever heard. "My name is Danyal."
The mirage shifts before Damian can comprehend his older brother's voice. It shows the crib again, appearing as if a few days had passed. There is night lilting through the nearby window, and a creek of the door. The baby doesn't stir.
Danyal sneaks in, still wearing his training clothes and a sword strapped to his side. Damian's scowl returns, watching him creep over to the crib. Of course -- the last night he saw his brother wasn't the only time he'd snuck into his room.
Would he go so low as to attack an infant? Damian wonders, watching his brother cross the room to his crib. But while his fingers rest against the hilt, they never curl to unsheathe.
His brother peers into the crib again, and there it is again, that smile wider in the corner of his mouth. It's not a full one, but its as uninhibited as it gets. Dripping honey-sweet with awe. "You are so tiny." Danyal whispers, and pokes a finger back through the crib. It wriggles, then pokes Damian's cheek gently. "Was I as small as you when mother gave birth to me?"
There is no response from the baby. Not a coherent one anyways, the little thing snuffles and turns his head, mouth open to latch. Danyal stills, his eyes grow ever wider again.
Danyal says nothing else, just rests his cheek against the crib and watches the baby sleep in silence. The affection never leaves his young face.
Damian feels unsettled. Off-foot. This Danyal is foreign to him... He wonders what happened to have changed his brother's mind on him.
There's a scuffle, quiet, but there. Danyal picks up on it just as Damian does, and his head pricks up like a deer, head already turning away from the crib. The affection leaves his face, falling away like water into something serious. His blade is already slightly unsheathed.
Two assassins, belonging to grandfather, burst out of the shadows. Their swords swinging into the air and ready to strike.
Danyal kills them both, his back to the crib. It's not without struggle, and when the two assassins lay dead on the floor, the baby is wailing at the top of his lungs. Danyal has a laceration cleaving down diagonal of his cheek. It's close to his eye, just barely missed blinding him.
Damian never knew how he got that scar. He does now. (He doesn't know how to feel about it.)
His brother clutches his bleeding face, sheathing his sword as tears well up onto his face. But he turns towards the crib, and hurries over. "You're okay, you're okay, you're okay." He hushes rapidly, the League-drilled seriousness fallen away to reveal a panic-stricken five year old. He sticks one hand into the crib, the one not clutching anything, and grabs little Damian's hand.
Their mother comes bursting in that moment, and Danyal turns his head towards her. "Mother." He says, his voice cracks un-wantingly. Their mother steps over the bodies of the assassins easily. "They tried to kill Damian."
"But they did not." Talias says, kneeling down next to the crib to inspect Danyal's face and Damian's well-being. When she finds nothing of concern beyond the injury, she continues. "You killed them before they could, Danyal. Well done."
The mirage of his brother nods, his eyes teary and red.
Damian... is discomfited. he never thought Danyal would kill assassins for him. He would have thought his brother would sooner look the other way. The mirage shifts again, and it quickly shows time passing.
Danyal sits in Damian's nursery every night, after that. He lays at the foot of the crib with his sword, a pillow and a blanket with him. Some nights there is nothing but peace -- or as close to peace as a baby could achieve -- and some days assassins break in.
Danyal kills each one.
The mirage shifts again, and it shows more memories of Danyal interacting with Damian during his youth too young for him to remember. His first steps, his first words.
"Danya." The small toddler of Damian says, arms reaching for Danyal.
A frown curls across Danyal's face, and pulls Damian into his lap. "No, no, little brother." He scolds, voice firm but.. softer. "It is Danyal, Damian. Danyal."
"Danya!"
Damian's brother sighs, but there is that same-small tilt at the corner of his mouth. A glimmer in his eyes. A glimmer... that Damian is finding he recognizes.
(He always thought his brother got that look in his eyes when he was mocking him. Was he wrong?)
The mirage shifts again, and this time it shows only mother and Danyal, alone. Danyal is older, taller. Seven, if Damian had to guess. Mother has a stern look on her face, her hands tight on his shoulders. "Damian will be starting training soon, my son."
Ah, then close to eight then. Training starts, always, at three years old. He watches Danyal nod, his expression mimicking their mother's. His arms are folded, always folded, behind his back, always neat.
"You can no longer have the relationship with your brother as you did before." Mother says.
Danyal's expression... falters. It shifts, it fluctuates. He looks surprised, thrown off. Like he isn't quite sure he heard what mother just said. His brows furrow. "What... do you mean, mother?"
"I mean what I said, Danyal." Mother says, stern, "Ra's will be keeping a closer eye on Damian now that he is of age to begin his training. He will not like if he sees you both getting along."
"I am sorry, my child. But your relationship with Damian ends here. You are rivals now, not brothers." In a cruel form a gentleness, mother raises her hand and tucks a stray curl out of Danyal's face.
Of course. Damian never had a relationship with his brother because of Grandfather. Of course. No, he's not feeling a little bitter. No. There's not an inner child that still, like a candleflame, wishes that he'd had a bond with his only flesh and blood.
Danyal is dead now. So it's not like it matters. He's happy about this.
Danyal frowns, and he steps back. He looks lost in thought. "We are still brothers, mother," he says, argues, and looks up to meet mother's eyes. "Let me train him, I will make sure he gets the skill he needs. If we must be rivals, then I will teach him how to defeat me. If he can defeat me, he can defeat anybody."
Their mother, and Damian, both blink in unison. Then mother smiles something sharp, calculated. She folds her hands behind her back. "Then do it. But you will make him hate you."
"...So be it."
Damian.... Damian is silent. His world axis has been tilted on its head. He is sliding, and sliding, and sliding down. Spinning. Many things click into place at once.
More memories from the mirage show. It shows Danyal training Damian. It shows their arguing, their bickering. It shows Danyal going to their mother to praise Damian and his skills, how fast he is picking up on the sword. How one day he will surpass even him.
It shows Danyal sitting outside Damian's bedroom door every night, listening in for anyone who dares to break in. His knees drawn to his chest, his sword at his side. Sometimes he sneaks in, sword drawn, when he hears a sound.
Some nights, Damian wakes up. He remembers those nights. Danyal standing over his bed with his sword unsheathed and tight at his side. He remembers the instant terror as he immediately reached for his own weapon.
His brother always scolded him for his lack of vigilance. That had he been anyone else, Damian would have had his neck cut. He would've been dead already. It only made Damian's hatred of him grow.
But he understands now. Because there were assassins in the room that Damian, four years old, three, did not notice. Not until later. He always assumed the attacks on him after Danyal's death had been because now there was a new heir to target.
It had been the only lesson he'd been even somewhat grateful for.
Then finally the mirage shimmers, and it shows Danyal, ten years old, in one of the training rooms, mid-spar with Mother. It's fast, sharp, impressive and like a blur. Damian is unsure if at ten which one of them was the better swordsman. Some of the assassins who have never met Danyal said Damian was, but the ones who had said it was Danyal. He'll never know.
In a lull in the fight, when their swords are crossed, mother speaks. "Ra's wants you and Damian to fight." She says, teeth grit into a deep scowl. The cross breaks and Danyal jumps back, he frowns.
"We have fought, mother." He says, and dives in first, swinging for mother's feet. Mother dodges, and slices at his arm. He swerves out of the way, twisting on his feet like a dance. "We are always fighting, doesn't he see our spars?"
"Not a spar like that, my son." Mother says, a snarl in her voice. She lunges, and Danyal blocks her blade. "A fight to the death. Father has grown tired of having two heirs."
That gets Danyal's attention -- or, more accurately, it distracts it. His eyes widen, and his sword lowers for a single moment. A mistake. "What?" Is all he gets out before mother has him on his back, her blade pressed to his throat.
He freezes. As does Damian. Danyal's brows furrow, then unfurrow, only to knot up again. "Mother, what do you mean a fight to the death?" He flips to his feet when mother removes the sword. She walks over to grab her water.
"Must I repeat myself, Danyal?" Mother snaps, rubbing her forehead before swigging from her canteen. "Father wants to find out which one of you is the stronger heir, and so you will fight to the death after your training in a few days."
Danyal's tan face loses a shade of color, he looks ashy. "There must be some mistake!" He exclaims, his arms gesturing out as he peers around mother. "There is a five year disparity between us, Damian has only just started training two years ago. It would be an unfair fight!"
"Do you think me unaware?" Mother whirls on him, and there is a grief-stricken look on her face. Like she is already mourning Damian's death. Damian feels ill. "Your skill is far beyond what Damian can accomplish right now, and there is nothing that I say that can convince Father otherwise."
Danyal wears an expression like he is scrambling for answers. A white knuckle grip on his weapon. There is a long silence, and his lower lip curls up. His throat bobs, he swallows. "Is there really nothing we can do?"
Mother makes a frustrated sound, pushing her loose hairs out of her face. "Not unless Father changes his mind, or I send one of you away. But Father would surely send someone to look for you or Damian."
"What if one of us faked our death?"
Mother stills. As does Damian. No, he thinks, stiff as a rod, no way. These mirages were lying, nothing but figments of an imagination. Of some quiet what-if that Damian had not yet stomped out.
Mother's expression shifts, and then turns contemplative. Danyal notices, and keeps pushing, he looks as hopeful as he could get beyond his usual unwavering, stone-like expression. "One of us could go to father--"
"No." Mother cuts off, voice sharp. Danyal wilts, confusion flittering across his face. Damian, from the corner of his eye, sees Father tense as stone. His white-slit eyes have not left the mirage. Nobody's has.
"Father will undoubtedly check there first, it would not be a good idea. You or Damian will have to go somewhere where he would not think to look. Someone unaffiliated with the League."
Danyal's face falls, shutters, and then closes up again into stone. Mother begins to pace, and Danyal's blue eyes follow her. "So a stranger?" He asks, and there is disgust lilting into his voice.
Mother nods, and she looks just as offput as Danyal.
The mirage of Damian's brother rolls his shoulders back. "Then I will do it, mother." He says, voice unwavering. There is a stubborn note behind it all, one that Damian recognizes. "I will fake my death, and Damian will stay here."
Mother's eyes turn sharp on him, and she stops in her spot. She pivots. "Are you sure?" She asks, eyebrow raising, "There is a chance you will never meet your Father if you leave. Nor will you see I or Damian again, if you do this."
Something like fear flickers across Danyal's face, eyes widening momentarily -- as if that very thought had not crossed his mind. But then it smooths over to sharp determination. He nods. "It would be the same for Damian if it was him instead. I will do it, Mother."
Damian feels ill again. Father has a strong set in his jaw, his teeth grinding.
Mother stares at Danyal, and then her expression softens. And like before, it is grieving. "In a few days time, I and another member of the League will be going on a mission to the American States. I will tell Father that you will accompany me, once there we will dispose of the other member and then orchestrate your death."
The American States. Danyal was here, in the country. He was out there somewhere -- but no this was fake. It had to be. Danyal was dead. A fool who got himself killed on a mission with mother and left the title of Heir to Damian.
Or maybe it had been his plan all along. His and mother's both.
...Was mother ever going to tell him?
The mirage of Danyal nods, sharp. Understanding. There is a gleam in his eyes that is not pride, it is tears. And when Mother leaves the room and leaves him alone, the stone-like expression on his face crumbles and falls.
His brother, ten years old, curls up his lip in an ugly way. It wobbles as the tears in his eyes do, and he brings up his hand to slam it over his mouth. And sinks to his knees, a yell-like sob muffled behind the skin.
His brother, ten years old, looks smaller than Damian remembers him being, and cries.
Damian has never seen Danyal cry. Not once in the mirage of memories, nor in his own.
The memory holds for a minute, and then disappears. And no new one shows up. The magic is gone, and it leaves a silence in its wake. Heavy, staticky, and full of revelations.
So there are two things that Damian knows that his Father now knows too.
He has an older brother
His older brother is alive.
(And a new secret third thing: Damian wasn't sure how to feel about it.)
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TRIGGER WARNING: This one shot will contain mentions of a knife. If you are at all uncomfortable with that type of thing - PLEASE SKIP THIS CHAPTER!
Summary: Anon request - "Jake smut with knife kink????"
Warnings: SMUT18+, KNIFE PLAY!, strong language, teasing, hair pulling, scratching, biting, dirty pet names, unprotected sex, begging, praising, use of a knife during sex, maybe some breeding kink, filth.
Word count: 3.9k | not edited
I will going off the 'trying every fast food fried chicken sandwich' video on Johnnie's channel, but I will be adding some stuff to make you fit into the story - but I did shorten it a lot to not make it as long. Enjoy !
You sat in the chair behind the camera as Jake and Johnnie prepared to start recording. You and Jake had plans to hang out, but he totally forgot he already had a date with Johnnie to rate chicken on a scale of one through five.
"Have you ever wanted a chicken sandwich-"Jake cuts Johnnie off, "yeah." Johnnie continues, "well now you can-"
Jake stares into the cameras trying not to laugh, "yes."
"Well today -"
Jake interrupts him again, " yep."
Johnnie says nothing else as he leans over and grabs, what looks to be the handle of a knife. You and Jake both stare at him as he struggles to open it. You watch as Jake closes his mouth and reaches over to take it from Johnnie's grasp.
In one swift flick, the silver blade pops through, revealing its sharpness. Johnnie raises his hands, "Okay. Okay. Take it easy."
You felt relieved that Jake was staring at Johnie while holding it because that gave you time to get your cheeks back to a normal color. That was one of the hottest things you've seen Jake do, even if it was just as simple as him opening that knife.
It still got your mind going and blood pumping a mile a minute.
Jake glances at you as he sets the open knife on the table and you smile at him, sitting up as he looks away because a nasty and dangerous, yet super sexy thought, sneaks its way into your mind.
You don't even know how Jake would react to what you just thought of, but you knew that you weren't going to stop thinking about it until you got an answer from him.
You pull yourself from your thoughts and wind up listening to a very strange, yet normal Jake and Johnnie, comment, "..and and we're gonna be putting lots of meat in our mouth and we're-"
Your weird look turns into quiet laughter behind your hand as you watch Jake's face change quickly into a caught off guard confused stare.
He blinks a few times and looks at you and just shakes his head as Johnnie continues to ramble on. Then, the conversation turns into dissecting frogs before Johnnie says something about his merch.
"I'm proud to be an Americas favorite lady.." Johnnie sings and you just stare, thinking about why you agreed to sit in on this when you knew it was going to be hard to be quiet.
.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.
"Alright, the first one we're trying is- mm-blah- uh- fuck." Johnnie looks down and Jake points to him, "Ha. You stuttered this time. Ha, ha."
You watch as Jonnie stares at the table for a few seconds in silence before he reaches for the knife again, and your eyes instantly move to Jake.
Jake watches as Johnnie struggles again and you pull your bottom lip between your teeth as Jake reaches over, waiting to watch his thumb slide up to open it once again.
"It's got a child lock on it." Jonnie says right before Jake takes it from him, popping the blade out of the top.
You don't know why, but you are so turned on by Jake opening the knife. You thought the first time was bad, but the more he does it, the more you feel like you can't breathe.
Jake closes the knife and hands it back to Johnnie, watching as he finally figures out how to open it. Jake raises his hand as he laughs, "Okay, okay. Now I'm scared."
Jake glances over at you and back to Johnnie, "Now I'm scared."
"Who stuttered what?" Johnnie asks in a funny voice and you can't help but laugh.
"Let me see that." Jake says and your eyes snap back to his hand that's reaching out for it, "Let me see that."
"Wait wait wait." Johnnie says and Jake drops his hand, "Come on. It's not a toy."
"Well it's real, it's dangerous, and illegal." Johnnie says and that just fuels the fire.
You watch as Jake takes the knife, laughing as he sets it down. You look up, eyes meeting his as he sets it down and you tilt your head with a smile.
He squints his eyes, picking up that there's something going on with you and you cross your leg over the other as you lean back against the wall.
He smirks slightly before going back to doing the video.
Every time Jake laughs, you smile because it's like you fall in love with him all over again, even the weird comments, you can't help but love him more.
.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.
You have your head resting on the wall, watching Jake do his reviews when all of a sudden your eyes go wide and your hand slaps over your mouth.
Jake looks at you, tilting his head before looking over his shoulder.
"Hello!" Johnnie, or as you call it, his alter ego, Timmy yells. Jake's eyes go wide and he snaps his head back to you, "Oh.. my god."
Jake covers his mouth as Johnnie walks up, grabbing the sandwich, "Chicken sandwiiiiich." He screams as he clings to it for dear life.
Jake's hand is still over his mouth, "Oh my god. No way."
Johnnie continues to scream before taking an obnoxiously loud bite. Your hand slowly moves off of your mouth as you try to contain in the laughter.
You were super turned on, ready for this video to be done, but now thanks to Timmy, you were no longer focused on Jake dragging a knife across your neck.
"Holy shit." Jake lays a hand on his chest and drags it down to drop it into his lap as Johnnie slowly walks up to him, "If I just sit still, he won't know I'm here."
Your eyes flick back and forth from him to Johnnie, "oh my god. This isn't real." You whisper into your hand, "Holy fuck."
It's quiet, all but the sound of Johnnie eating as he walks up to Jake. Jake's eyes are on you, fighting to not look at Johnnie.
Johnnie leans down, "Want eat?"
Jake laughs, "No." he turns his head to look at Johnnie, "Get back." Johnnie moves back and yells something that's muffled by the food in his mouth before touchdown slamming the sandwich onto the floor.
Jake's mouth drops as he leans over, looking at you for help. You shrug, "I don't know what you want me to do. We just have to.. wait it out."
Johnnie leaves the room and you sit there staring at Jake, "What the fuck was that?" You watch as his fingers drag on the table against the knife and he looks up at you, "I'm going to stab him."
You laugh slightly, "Oh my g- Jake. No you're not going to stab him. He can't help it." You hold back your laughter as Johnnie walks back into the room.
And that feeling you had before returns, all it took was for him to touch the knife.
"Anyways." Johnnie says walking back into the room, like nothing even happened.
Which makes it a lot funnier.
You lean back against the wall, falling back into your thoughts after Johnnie's little Timmy outburst.
.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.
Johnnie picks up a hammer, holding it up and Jake quickly picks up the knife, giving you a quick glance.
You bite down on your lip, watching as he brings it up and opens it with no trouble.
You wanted him. And you wanted him to play with it, press it up against your neck.
Drag it down your body.
You wanted him to tease you with it.
Do whatever he wanted to you with it.
You never thought you'd bring a knife into sexual pleasure, but hey. Things can change, right?
A short time later, they wrap up the video and Jake stands up, "I hope you know you're cleaning this up yourself."
"What? Why?" Johnnie groans with a laugh, "No, don't answer that. I had an outburst didn't I?" He hangs his head and sighs loudly.
"I swear to god you're schizophrenic." Jake shakes his head and turns to face you, "Ready to hang out?" You nod, "Yeah, but first.." you lean around him and grab the knife off the table, "Close this for me."
He gives you a confused look but complies, taking the knife from your hand, closing it with ease, "Can I as-"
You cut him off, "Not here."
He tilts his head, "You're being weird."
You roll your eyes, "If anyone's weird here it's-"
Johnnie lets out a random scream and Jake spins you around, "Let's get out of here before he sees us." He pushes you forward and you walk out laughing.
Jake lays his arm over your shoulder, "So are you going to tell me what's brewin' in that noggin of yours.. or do I have to guess?"
You bite your lip, resting your head back onto his arm, "I mean, you can guess."
"Does it involve sexy time?" He wiggles his brows and you laugh, "that's not a guess, but yes, babe."
He pushes open his door and walks you in, turning around to close it.
"Okay. I'm just.." you sigh, looking up at him, "I'm just going to say it because it's a pretty.. wild request."
He holds up the closed knife in his hand, "It doesn't have anything to do with this.." he dangles the knife in his fingers, "..does it?"
You bite your lip, locking your hands together behind your back, "I told you it was a wild request."
He purses his lips together, eyes moving to the object in his hand, "You.." he laughs slightly, looking back to you, "You want me.." he points to the knife, "To do.. what exactly?"
"I'm not asking you to stab me, Jake. Just.." you walk up and take the knife from his hand. You try to get it open, "there really is a child lock on this isn't there."
Jake smirks and takes the knife from your hand, holding it up between your bodies and he flicks it open.
Your eyebrows raise and you bite your lip, "Uh huh." You nod, "You are so hot when you do that."
He smirks, looking away and back to you with a smile, "Oh shucks." He raises his shoulders and tilts his head all cute.
You move closer to him, wrapping your hand around his wrist, "I just.." your eyes move from the knife in his hand, up to his eyes, "I want you to, I don't know, intimidate me with it.. tease me with it."
"Isn't.. this a little bit dangerous?" He stares down at you and you shrug with a slight smile, "I mean, yes it's dangerous." You grab his shirt and move closer to him, "But that's what makes it fun right?"
A smirk toys with his lips as he brushes hair from your face, "I don't want to hurt you."
"You won't. I trust you." You tilt your head back, "We don't have to if-"
The sudden gentle graze of the blade across your cheek shuts you up instantly.
Jake's eyes bounce from your eyes to the knife resting on your cheek, "You know.. you have such an angel face." He bites his bottom lip, "But these thoughts you have, baby.. they're the devils thoughts."
He bends down, quickly lifting you up. Your legs circle his waist and you look down at him, "Only for you, baby."
He smirks, "I sure hope so."
He walks you over to his bed, moving his hand with the knife before letting you fall backwards onto the bed, "What do you want me to do?"
You lean up onto your elbows, "You're holding the knife, babe. You're in control."
"Oh shit. Okay." He laughs slightly and twirls it in his fingers, "if I see blood." He points the blade towards you, "I'm stopping."
"Deal." You smile and lay back, watching as he moves in between your knees after taking off his shirt. He drops his hand, dragging the point of the blade gently down your fishnet covered thigh.
He reaches up to undo your jean shorts, slowly pulling them down your legs until they're off and dropped to the floor.
You watch as he picks up the knife, slipping the sharp side of the blade against each thin piece of fishnet, cutting all the way up to your hip.
He moves to the other side, "I hope you didn't like these."
"I have more." You glance up at him, biting your lip as you feel the loose fabric sliding off your legs. He moves up, leaning down to press his lips against yours.
"How do you-" you reach over, pulling his hand with the knife over, "Just.. like. This." You lay the blade against your neck, "Just enough pressure for me to feel it."
"You're fucking crazy." He smirks and you tilt your head back, "You love it."
"I love you." He pulls the knife away, crashing his lips into yours. Your lips move in sync as his hand slips under your shirt, a small moan slipping from your lips as his fingers twist and pull at your nipple.
"Please don't tease." You whimper out.
He sits up and pushes your shirt up. He reaches over picking up the knife and dragging it down your torso, "I thought that's what you wanted?"
You fight back a smirk, knowing he's right, "Mhm."
He smirks, slipping it into the thick band of the fishnets, "Thought so."
With a swift swipe up, the band splits. He finishes cutting the fishnets and pushes the loose pieces away.
He spreads your legs more and you bite your lip as you feel the blade rest against your clothed pussy. Your eyes lock onto his and he drags it down, "Jake.."
Your words are barely audible, "P-please."
Your adrenaline was pumping. Any second that blade could puncture your skin, but the amount of trust you have for Jake, especially when it comes to you, make it even better.
"Please what, baby?" He drags the knife gently down the inside of your thigh, "Where do you want it?"
"Anywhere.." You breathe out, "I just.." you whimper as he presses the flat side against your clit, tapping a few times. He tilts his head, continuing to tap, "You just what, baby?"
"I need you." You move your hips slightly, "Please."
He leans down, kissing up your torso, "Fine." He rolls over, sitting his back against the headboard, "But you're ridin'."
You sit up, slipping your shirt up over your head, "okay." You smirk at him, kicking off the torn fishnets before moving up to straddle him.
He reaches behind you, making sure to gently drag the blade down your spine. You arch your back slowly, pushing your chest out and he kisses in between your boobs.
"You are so fucking hot." His other hand moves to grip your ass, squeezing before sliding it around to pull the band of your panties outward.
He drags the knife over your hip before slicing the band of your panties. You watch as he moves to the other side, cutting it and letting it fall between your legs.
He looks your body up and down and slides his hand up your back, gripping the back of your neck before pulling you in for a kiss.
Your hands move to the sides of his neck as you grind down on him, earning a low groan.
Your hands slide down, undoing his jeans before moving off of him so he can kick them off. He moves his boxers down and pulls you back over, "I hope you know, I love watching you ride me."
He spits into his hand, moving it down to rub the outside of your pussy. You moan, gripping his shoulders as his fingers move to rub circles on your clit, "Fuck."
He moves his hand to hold his cock steady, "go ahead babe."
You let out a loud moan, clenching around him as you sink down onto him. Your moan is cut short by a gasp from the knife against your neck.
"Why didn't I think of this?" Jake groans as you slowly move up and down, "This is fucking.." he groans, eyes gawking at the knife pressing against your skin, "Do you like it?"
You moan out, "Yes, yes."
"Tell me what you like, babe." Jake moves his hips upward and you sigh, "I love how you hold this knife against my skin."
"You look so fucking hot." He drags the knife down your neck and over your boob. He moves with your motions, pressing it a little harder into your skin.
You let out an excited whimper as you dig your nails into his shoulders, biting your lip as you roll your hips into his, "Jake.." you moan out, "You feel so good."
He tilts his head back and you act quick, taking the knife from his hand and pressing it against his neck. His eyes widen slightly as his hands move to grip both of your hips, "Fuck." He swallows, keeping his jaw up, "You're such a demon."
You giggle slightly, a moan following quick as you sink all the way down, letting his cock rest inside of you, "You're so hot." You lean in, pressing your lips to his as you gently drag the knife down his skin. You replace the blade with your lips, sucks a mark into his skin which earns a low groan from his lips.
He slides his hands up to the front of your shoulders, pushing you back as he leans forward. He pins your wrist down by your head before he starts thrusting into you, "Fucking shit."
You arch your back, moaning loudly as your legs tighten over his thighs, "J-Jake." You gasp, "So c-close."
He slips his hand up, taking the knife back into his possession. He leans down, holding up his weight on his forearm as he drags the knife down the side of your torso, "Cum for me."
Your breathing shutters as the knife grazes over your skin. Your eyes roll back as you tilt your head back, whining loudly as he kisses down your neck, biting and nipping at your skin. He proceeded to give you a matching hicky, groaning lowly as he feels you tense around him.
You let out a loud moan, digging your nails into his back as you cum. His thrusts slow down as he guides you through your high and then come to a stop, "Hands and knees baby."
Jake pulls out, sitting all the way up to watch you lazily roll over. He lays a hand on your hip, biting his lip as his eyes gaze down to your soaked pussy on display, "You're so fucking wet." He brings the knife up, dragging it down over your ass and tapping it gently against your pussy.
You gasp, trying not to move. Your fingers ball up the comforter underneath you, whimpering as you grow more impatient for him to be inside of you again.
"Please.. you whimper out, "Jake.." your words are breathless and Jake loves it.
"Please what?" He moves the knife up, dragging it down over your other cheek.
You sigh, "I need you."
He rises up to lean down, pressing his lips against your shoulder, "I want to cum in you so bad. Fill you up completely." He groans at his own words, "Fuck, you would look so sexy pregnant."
Jake has never said anything like that before. You guys were always careful, you didn't think he was thinking about anything like that.
"W-what?" You ask, making sure you heard him correctly.
"You heard me." He leans up, dragging the knife down your spine as he moves his hips to rub the tip of his cock against your pussy, "Would you like that?"
You push your hips back, biting your lip as you try and think, but your mind is so scrambled right now, "I-I-" you gasp as he thrusts into you, knife pressing into your skin, "Yes."
"Yes what, y/n?" Jake reaches up, gathering your loose hair into his hand, "want me to cum in that pretty pussy of yours?"
You nod against the hold he has on your hair, letting out a whine when he pulls harder, "Fuck, yes. Yes. Yes!"
Jake bites his lip harder as he starts thrusting, groaning as he watches you push your hips back to meet his thrusts.
He drops the knife, moving his now free hand to grip your ass, "That's it."
He lets go of your hair, moving it back to lay on your hip, fingertips digging hard into your skin, “Fuck, I’m so fucking close baby.”
You moan in response, moving your hips up and down repeatedly until he grabs them, pulling you fully down onto him as he pushes all the way in.
You squeeze his cock, moaning as you feel him coating the inside of your pussy white.
“Fuck.” He sighs, “That was surprisingly fun.”
You laugh as you lay down on his bed, “It was.” You look back at him, watching as he picks the knife up to close it.
“Open it, again.” You bite your lip as you watch him smirk, switching the blade open, “Wanna see me do it again?” He jokes, but you nod, “I could watch you do it all day.”
“Really?” He asks with a laugh, “What’s so hot about it?”
You sit up, “Just you.. and that knife.. it just.. gets me going.” He moves to stand in front of you, resting the blade under your chin, “You know I can’t let Johnnie touch this again, right?”
���I would hope not.” You smile and lick your lips, “That would be kinda weird now that it’s been on .. places.”
Jake laughs and closes the knife, “Yeah, that’s going to the dresser drawer with its new friends.” He walks over, opening the drawer that you store all of your other sex toys in.
You shake your head, “I’m stealing a shirt.”
“Yeah, take whatever you want babe.” Jake smiles at you as he shuts the drawer. As you go through his closet, there’s a knock on the door, “Jake, where’s your knife? I want to practice opening it. I can beat that fucking child lock.”
You and Jake lock eyes and it’s instant laughter.
Johnnie is silent for a few moments, “You didn’t have to laugh at me, holy shit.”
“Sorry Johnnie.. that knife is out of commission.” Jake yells as he tries not to laugh.
“Aw, did you break it? Stupid fuck.” Johnnie yells and Jake sighs, “You’re the stupid fuck, but yeah I guess I broke it.”
Jake looks at you, shaking his head as he smirks.
.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.
I know this was long awaited, so I thank you for being patient and for reading. I hope you enjoyed 🖤
Likes and reblogs are appreciated!
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