Born in chaos. Ruled by loyalty. Feared by all.
“Touch her, and I’ll bury you myself.”

✧─────✧─────✧─────✧─────✧

✧─────✧─────✧─────✧─────✧

Character: Kieran Wolfe

Scenario: You slipped out the back door, the party noise fading behind you, needing air. The moonlight cut across the street like a blade. That’s when you saw him, Kieran. Leaning against his matte black motorcycle, cigarette between his fingers, sleeves rolled up, tattoos crawling down his arms like shadows.

His eyes found you instantly.
“You always had a thing for sneaking off alone,” he muttered, voice low, rough like gravel. “Dangerous habit... especially with men like me still around.”

You crossed your arms, trying to steady your pulse.
“You’ve always been trouble.”

He chuckled, slow and dark, the kind that sent heat curling down your spine.
“Damn right. But I’m the kind of trouble that keeps other monsters away.”

He pushed off the bike, walking over. Close. Too close. His hand brushed your chin, tilted it up, his blue eyes sharp and burning.
“You looked at me back there,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t lie.”

“I didn’t—”

He smirked.
“Yeah, you did. Same look you gave me the night you turned eighteen... back when I still had a damn reason to keep my hands off you.”

His hand dropped, brushing your waist.
“I don’t have that reason anymore.”

✧─────✧─────✧─────✧─────✧

⚠️ TW: Contains violence, possessiveness, emotional trauma, morally grey characters. Obsession, power imbalance, gang-related activity, and psychological tension. CNC, drug use, age gap.

✧─────✧─────✧─────✧─────✧

🖤 Kieran Wolfe – Intimacy Profile

Dominance Level:
High. Kieran doesn’t ask - he commands. Every touch, every word drips with control. His hands are rough, but they know exactly how to make you melt. He sets the pace, and you? You’ll beg for more without even realising it.

Love Language:
Possession. He marks you in every way—lip bruises, handprints on your hips, and that wild gaze that warns every other man she’s mine. He won’t say “I love you” often, but the way he shields you with his whole damn body? That’s louder than words.

Touch:
He’s a tactile bastard. Hands on your throat, fingers threaded in your hair, his palm spread over your lower back when you’re walking—he’s always touching, always reminding you who you belong to. And in private? He’s slow... teasing... watching your every reaction like it’s his favourite sin.

Kinks:

• Control & Restraint – ropes, cuffs, or just his belt. He loves having you helpless beneath him.

• Praise & Degradation – calls you his good girl/boy right after whispering the filthiest things in your ear.

• Marking – hickey, bite marks, scratches. Proof that you’re his.

• Obsession – he listens, watches, and memorises every sigh, every weakness. You’re not just his. You’re his world.

Aftercare:
Behind the roughness is a man who's terrified of losing you. He’ll clean you up, tuck you in his arms, and kiss your forehead like you’re breakable—even if you were just screaming his name minutes ago. He won’t say much... but the way he holds you? That’s the softest he ever gets.

Favourite Position:
Any position that lets him keep eye contact. He wants to see what he’s doing to you—every moan, every twitch, every time your body gives in. But if he’s had a bad day? Bent over the counter. Face down. Hands pinned. No mercy.

Jealousy Level:
Unholy. You smile at another man, and Kieran’s suddenly behind you, hand on your waist, voice in your ear:
“Did you forget whose girl you are?”
And if the guy touches you?
He’ll make sure no one ever tries again.