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shaisuki · 2 months ago

Note

What if reader is the insane one..😳I love these yandere characters but what if reader--

❝ 𝚰'𝐋𝐋 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐆𝚰𝐕𝐄 𝚰𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ❞

FEATURING. GOJO SATORU, NANAMI KENTO, TOJI FUSHIGURO, GETO SUGURU

CONTENT WARNINGS. yandere reader + angst + gore + murder + enabler characters + body mutilations + stalking + torture + blood + mind games? + manipulation + gaslighting + rushed writing + implied established relationship + unhealthy relationship dynamics

NOTES. hiya anon! you got a brilliant mind that tickled myself into writing this one. yandere reader is absolutely a first to me considering the characters i wrote are the yandere ones. i apologize for the shitty writing.

SYNOPSIS. you hate the attention they get and the adoration you shared with the people that surrounds both of you and it's up to you to take care of those who threatens your love for them.

GOJO SATORU

satoru is truly mesmerizing.

everywhere you go with him around. everyone stops and looks to stare at the man besides you. mouth agape, with their eyes glimmering with awe from how handsome he looks. who wouldn't admire him? he's everything. blessed from the moment he was born. tall with the hair white as snow and you know he's the only one in the whole world with it. he's godly and so you worship him. a devotion from a mortal to his immortal lord.

he keeps you close. his hands tangled into yours while you both walked in the streets of harajuku. he wants to try they new crepe stand with you and you smile a bit. admiring his sweet tooth that needs to be satiated.

being with gojo means that he attracts the people who's walking in the same street as him. women craning their necks to get a glimpse of him and those who dared to get close to him which is happening right now.

she's pretty. they all are. every woman who approach satoru were the same mold where they come from. petite with tiny waists and a delicate body. small faces with glitters in their eyes while they flutter their eyelashes on him. hoping that satoru would leave you for them and they don't even notice you. these are the consequences and you try to pry your hand on his but he tightens on his grip while he declines the offer. he didn't budge not when she traces her fingers to his chest.

it breaks your heart when girls like her would openly flirt with him and treats you like nothing. you understand that you weren't them, you didn't know why he was with you! you want to cry and hide from them and to him. you don't deserve him. no one deserves him and so you pull your hands but he still keep his hold tight in you and with a scowl, he says the most bone chilling tone of his voice. “leave me and my girlfriend alone.” and it's enough for her to stop flirting to him and that's the time she will realize you were there the whole time and she would shot you a glare and a million insults are running inside her head and you're not able to know it cause satoru's dragging you away from her and keeps a protective hand over you. “only look at me, pretty.” is what he says and it turns your frown upsidedown.

there's a cry and then a snap. her bone cracks under the weight of the hammer being slammed to her hands. that's what you get for touching satoru. you pull a hidden knife strapped in your boots. unsheathing it in with precision and twirling the handle. “please... i'm sorry....” you hear her say it but she was never sorry. she let her speak out her mind and flirts with someone who's clearly committed. promiscuity left a foul taste in your mouth. she can get all flirty with your boyfriend and she would be praised for being suited to him while you, you get the side glances, faces etched with disbelief why someone like you would score someone like gojo.

she's so pretty, like the models in the magazines and on billboards which you cried in front of it. wishing that you were them but it never occurred to you once again since satoru came into your life. you never wished anything something as shallow like that again cause you were enough for him and that's what it matters and this bitch had come to ruin it for you. you despised destroying that is something beautiful but it was her sin, she should have never tried her luck with gojo and so with a tight hold in the handle, the sharp edge of the knife pierced in one of her eyes.

her screams are loud. wailing and screaming for someone to help her but there's no one around here. it's only you and her. the blood come pouring in her eye socket and you pull the knife and you were splattered with her blood. staining your cheek. it was warm. fresh and you smell it.

“satoru's really handsome and you wondered at that time why he was with me.” your look is solemn, no remorse in them and she's forced to listen to your spiel while she tried to staunch the blood flowing from her once pretty eye. “i don't know.” you whispered. dragging the edge of your knife to her rosy cheek. nicking the skin and blood poured out from them. “i don't know why satoru is with me.” you repeated it. your own eyes getting glossy. “he could have left me and have gone to you in a heartbeat but he didn't. he stayed. he stayed.” you whisper it like it was unreal and the tears came pouring out. you sniffle and sob. cause it was too good to be true.

“can you let me go now?” she begged of you. watching you bawl your eyes out while the knife you were holding drips with her blood. it's a lesson she's going to learn is never to flirt with someone who have their girlfriend by their side. a crazy one it is but it's too late for her now. you were harmless with a touch of innocence but she never thought you were capable of doing this. she can't move her hands, both broken from being shattered by the hammer and she's closing her destroyed eye to keep the blood from pouring out. “no.” wiping the tears from your eyes with the back of your hand, you sniffle. “i can't let you go. you're going to ruin another relationship cause the man's tickled your fancy. you deserve to die.” and she prayed for whatever deity to come save her cause you're raising your hand which holds the knife and it's going to be the end of her but she's not ready to die. she wanted to live and so she prayed and prayed and her prayer were heard.

there's the sound of footsteps nearing in where she lays and where you stand, about to end her life. she lets out a cry. her tears streaming down her face cause she was about to be saved. she was crying in relief cause she's about to escape this hell but it was replaced in horror when she sees who have seen you. it couldn't be but he won't like it, would he? his girlfriend's murdering people. girls like her.

something was up with you. he knows it. the underlying insecurities in which you evaded when he asks and brings the topic up. you only distract him and pretends there's nothing wrong and he let it slide. there's multiple killings happening in the area and coincidentally it's been the girls whom he interacted with. the ones who flirted with him. he could have returned the gesture but he's committed to you. anyways, he began to suspect you and later confirmed it was really and he thought he's the deranged and the unstable one in the relationship. as if he's not done the same things you did.

there is something sad about your crying about your relationship. he stayed. you repeatedly spoke of it like you can't believe that he lasted so long to you and you have been eliminating the girls who have threatened your relationship with him. he can't let you go on this path of destruction just for him. it's his job.

you were about to finish the girl and he interrupted. “you don't need to do this, angel.” he watch as your shoulders tense. recognizing his voice that it returned you to sane state. hands trembling, you slowly turn around to see him behind you. just standing. you gripped the knife tightly while your body quivered like a leaf. slowly you faced him. your head hung low. ashamed from what monster you turned out to be. a monster made from your insecurities and fear.

“i didn't want to. she's going to ruin things and i'm sorry.” you explain to him. surely, he won't side with her, right? everything so wrong about it. “help.” she croaked out to get his attention and he crouches to inspect her. he clicks his tongue. shaking his head in faux sympathy. “she got you good, huh? don't worry it won't last long.” he says and then stands to deal with you.

“look at me.” he softly mutters to you. holding your soft jaw for you to look at him and you cry again. his blue eyes is enough to make you cry. everything about him makes you cry. he's too good to you. he shushes you. “don't cry. don't cry, angel.” he coos at you. wiping your tears with his thumb. caressing your round cheeks and cups your face. oh, his pretty angel. looking so good in red. the blood smeared in your cheeks suits you well.

“it's okay. i also did it when somebody looks at you the way i do. those who harmed you and i'm going to do it again.” and with a raise of his hand. the woman lying in the ground lets out a noise. a choking sound and then gurgles. you look at her. watch as the ground stained with red. the gash in her neck pours out liters of blood. “see. no one's going to harm you. i'm here for you, my angel.” kissing your forehead while the cold body of hers slowly bleed out.

“i'm yours?” you ask him. he nods. “only yours, my beloved.” gojo assures you with a smile and he melts at the sight of your worries dissipating. if only it could stay like this forever. oh, it will. he won't allow it again for someone to ruin you and doubt yourself again. “let's go home.” he says before picking you up and cradles you in his strong arms. pulling you closer to his and you placed your chin in his shoulder and peered over at his shoulder to see her dead. good for her. now she won't ruin anything. you smile in a contented manner and satoru hums. glad, his beloved is at peace in his arms.

NANAMI KENTO

there's the act of loving someone who is on the verge of breaking.

of how him, nanami kento managed to keep his lover at bay. the danger of someone who's mentally incarcerated. a prisoner of their thoughts that there's a day that doesn't go by without thinking of him and only him. love should be unconditional, the deep part in his brain says and nanami agrees with it.

who knew, his wallflower of a colleague can be this dangerous. he watched you from your quirks down from the littlest of it. the blonde concludes that you were no threat. your round face possessing the most innocent of looks and it looks like you could cry at the tiniest of criticism. has eyes like an angels and the tears flowing like dew drops from how they roll down your cherubic cheeks. you were every bit what nanami can think of and it's ironic how you can muster the look of it despite being caught in the act. the coldest a person is capable of.

the workplace can be toxic as it can and nanami was no stranger to unnecessary criticisms of the higher-ups from his works. it wasn't perfect nor inadequate and somehow he still get caught particularly from one who's in a bad mood and so he takes the blow off it. revise what it's needed to be revised or he can do it all again. no big deal but to certain someone who's been admiring him for months, it wasn't an excuse of a behavior.

her beloved being treated like that, it isn't acceptable. you knew how hard your beloved worked for that. he even pulled an all nighter! you stayed with him when he did that from the safety of your own cubicle and how dare that asshole to blow him off like that. not appreciating his efforts and making him redo it all again. he should be punished. no one's allowed to treat your beloved like that. he needed to learn and he's about to learn his lesson from a accident. sure, a accident. you can make it look like one.

the fucker have been staggering. it was his obvious from how he walks across from the office and is slurring and when he's near in the emergency exit with the hundred of stairs waiting for him, you followed him. no one ever noticed you and they wouldn't even suspect what you're about to do. thanks to the prescribed medication you have and the cup of coffee that did the job. caffeine isn't something you can fuck up with certain medicines.

he didn't even noticed you behind him and with push. shoving him a little to hard, he fell. rolling down the stairs like the trash but it wasn't enough. you hear the thud and soft clanging of metal and was it that something broken, a bone? you hope so. it wasn't enough but it simmered the anger boiling in your system and with a sigh, you left but before you can take a step, you notice him.

from the looks of it, he wasn't mean to be in this situation and he just walked in and seeing the blank look on his face is enough to bring you in tears. lips trembling with sharp baited breaths. now you've done it! you're a monster! a hideous being standing in front of him like a deer caught on headlights. he's going to hate you now. you just know it and you hate yourself for it.

in turns of an event, one you didn't expect. you were engulfed in his arms and nanami saying he was sorry for making you do this. that it was his fault and how much it killed him that you're harming others for the sake of him. his own creation that can't be tamed without him and you cried, a little harder. this is what you've been wanting for a long time and then, nanami starts to question his own morals.

nanami loves you, truly. that he was willing to overlook the deeds that you had done in the past no matter how grave it was all. an attempted murder of a colleague, the almost absolute death of someone who shouldn't got closer to him.

it's wrong and he knows about it all but he's long gone to get past through it when he have you. it was just a lapse of judgement of why you did that and the reasoning and the planned medication for you to tone down the impulse of hurting someone and hurting yourself, he couldn't beat that and so, he keeps you in his arms. in which you will never do anything cause you'll disappoint him.

a routine was born from it. you both agreed on it that while he works, you will be home. tending all the chores and freely being able to do whatever you want and you'll wait for him after work and he'll be on his office. signing papers and dealing presentations like a regular employee but sometimes it wasn't enough.

what if there's a coworker who flirts with him? what if he falls for them? what if he finds them interesting more than you? what if he finds attractive and will you just be thrown aside for this new woman he'll have? all these questions running in your mind and it sends your heart beating fast and your brain formulating into a hundred thoughts of how you can get rid of them who threatens your relationship with him.

you have the ring but it wasn't enough.

so when he got home, nanami sensed that you're having those thoughts again. plaguing you with every waking thought and possibility that he'll leave you cause you were too much and he wants someone stable and love isn't enough to keep this relationship afloat so he assured you. the only thing that will put your mind at ease.

“do you not want me anymore, kento?” you mutter softly. your head on his lap while he stroke your hair. moving to face him and look the sharp jawline of his in this angle and so you can see what his reaction at your question. there's a brief pause and his touch seems to stiffen up before relaxing.

hazel eyes meets your own and nanami smiles at your question. “i'll always want you, darling.” it's terrible cause you know it's not a lie and you easily melt at his words. he's so patient that no matter what question you have stored for him he knows the right words to say to you.

strange for a man to say the things that felt wrong to say to a human like you. unstable and was ready to break at any more but somehow he gets by. he's not blind to your acts. to your tendencies that is beyond normal for anyone to understand and when he sees your slowly dozing off at his touch. his voice like lullaby to you that is where the time where he will continue to judge himself. why he allowed himself to be with you but it's out of the questions. of the what-ifs and other uncertainties.

in this madness where he will stay cause he just loves you so much.

FUSHIGURO TOJI

the heavy rain didn't deter you from staring at his windows. watching his silhouette move and whatever shit he was doing. with the rain drops at your rain coat and splattering you with a splash of the water, you didn't dare to move from your hiding spot. not wanting to missed the life he was living and you were contented with it.

god, you haven't interacted with the man and you're this head over heels for them when the closest you get is being able to sit a few tables behind him and you can make the every details of him. from the twitching of the scar on the corner of his lips and hear that voice of him. you were a goner.

you didn't dare to get near to him. not yet. you have a plan for it and that would begin tonight.

there wasn't anything special in this place he calls home. devoid of anything personal and it was like it has been abandoned and is a shelter to whoever hoodlum that decided to hole here but despite that it's his. in the past few months you have followed him. there hasn't been a change of his habits. disappearing for days and then comes back.

how heavenly. the apartment's a dump but your infatuation didn't mind. as a special gift and successfully infiltrating this home of his, you will be doing something special to him. you cleaned this apartment of him. inhaling the cleaned shirts of his and laid on his futon where his scent lingers. you made the most of it and then you left. with a thought that you'll be visiting him once again.

something's wrong and it was the most obvious. he got a visitor. he wasn't the most neat and can manage this dump of a apartment of his and yet, he comes home to a clean house. his laundry done. dishes are washed and neatly stacked and the trash that's been scattered are nowhere to be found. to whoever been doing this tasks to him, he made sure to thank them and he left with a smile on his face.

there's a prickling feeling in your nape. hairs rising, a sign of an impending danger and your gut tells you the same but what could happen? you're just going to visit like the hundred times you did. bask in the scent of his comforters, take what somehow valuable trinkets that reminds you of him and put them in your little shrine of him and then you would go but all your senses says that you shouldn't continue. clenching the raincoat you have on, you slowly backed away in the street whereas you can see his house and then you hear a voice.

“cancelling your own little visit, huh?”

your eyes widens at the comment and recognizing the voice where it belongs to the man who has been the subject of your love. “don't worry about it, i made a quick trip to your own and what a coincidence, i also did that.” your blood runs cold at how the tables have turned. you're the one being hunted right now.

he wasn't lying. similar to the shrine you have for him, he also had one. your pictures in similar places where you have been stalking him, it's everywhere and more detailed. close up shots of your face, your own personal belongings displayed and you think you're the one who have been going this obsession. hiding in that secret room of his of where you didn't found and you say he's predictable with his routine.

toji trails the curves of your body with his hand. a squeeze there and then a pinch while he stands behind you. his tongue came licking the scar in the corner of his mouth and then leaning to take a lick the shell of your ear. he almost shivers at your reaction. mirroring it and watch as the disbelief painted on your face.

“i'm not the only one, sweetheart. in exchange for your daily visits to mine. do you mind having you for me?” he whispers and he chuckles at your reaction. speechless as you can be. “very well. don't mind me then.”

GETO SUGURU

the chunks of human flesh or whatever remains of them came splattering. a thunk then a thud upon hitting the ground. splashes of blood covering the walls and you were showered from it. the sensation of their blood to your bare skin feels like a burst of rain on a summer day. there wasn't even a tremble nor a slight quiver of your clenched fist, only a contented smile on your face having the deed done. it was a quick death for them and a quiet one. there's no pleading for mercy nor a cry, only a mumble of prayers. calling whatever deity they know or repenting for the sins they've committed. good. it should be. it's already a sin to defy geto.

they know it, of course. it was bad enough that they didn't have an ounce of cursed energy and was only good at donations and yet, it wasn't enough not what they demanded in exchange for it. the nerve on them to want more for geto and thus, the execution. it was the easiest task since you've joined geto's little family. whatever he wants, you obliged to it. it's your duty. you share the same beliefs with him and it's for a good cause. the eradication of whole non-jujutsu sorcerers will be the good of all. now, you need to focus to remove the filth of their blood clinging to your skin. you don't like when you're covered by it and be seen with it by suguru. you know how much he despises the stench of them monkeys.

there's a huge grin plastered on his face. his deep purple eyes glinting in satisfaction at what you have done. he didn't even need to order you and you're doing a good job minus the filth that is covering you. he find it scenic as he watched you above where he stand in some post. his robe moving gently along with the breeze. no one had made him feel strongly like you did and it was indeed the best decision for him to let you join in his cause.

a soft gasp left your mouth when you've seen him, standing in front of your own room. geto chuckles at your reaction. “forgive me, geto-sama if you need anything. i need to clean myself before serving you.” you say in a timid manner. aware of your unkempt appearance and the dried blood isn't so pleasant sticking in your skin anymore and you smell like death. it was embarrassing to be seen by this by geto. he dismisses your theory with a laugh. “no need for formalities, (y/n).” the way your name is spoken by him is enough to make your stomach flutter. “allow me to help you. i know how tasking it can be to rid of someone.” your face are warm by his statement. “i appreciate the thought, geto-sama but i'm covered by blood from head to toe and i don't want to taint you with it.” you said and he was quick to smile. “nonsense. you're my family and it's my job to take care of you.” he said and you loved him more than anything. “if you insist.”

the water turned a dark shade of red and then slowly turning into a muddy color of pink as it slowly disappears in the drain. you were greatly embarrassed even when you're fully submerged in the tub full of warm water. his touch electrifying to your skin and it took you a great control to not flinch and your body is covered with flaws. despite the insecurities plaguing you, you relished in his touch. it's not like every day he helps you with this kind of menial task and him taking care of you.

geto knows he have that effect on you and also to him. his gaze unknown to you is filled with hunger. it's only an excuse to touch you like this when all he wants to do is pounce on you and make you say the things you will gladly say to him. your body is now clean. devoid of any stains from that monkey and is replaced with the sweet scent of soap. you remained silent the whole time he bathed you. basking on the glow of his warmth and touch that you so deeply craved from him. “say, (y/n)....” he trails off in his sentence. you hum in response. “will you do anything i ask of you?” there's a ripple from the water when you moved. shifting and turning around to meet his gaze. “everything. i will eliminate everyone who stands in your way and will do all of your bidding. you don't need to ask. i'll do anything.” you say without hesitation. your eyes brimming with faithfulness to him and he felt a little stupid to ask you that when you're willingly offering yourself to him. grasping your soft jaw with his fingers, he look deeply in your eyes and then without hesitation, his lips meet yours and it was a deal. sealed with a kiss.

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year ago

Text

Choke On The Sun

PAIRING: John Price x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: You'd known John ever since the Academy, and even after losing touch, the love you had for one another was never gone. Like a snake, it had stayed hidden in unseen places. But it was always there.

WORDCOUNT: 13.8k

WARNINGS: Blood, intense gore, torture, detailed descriptions of torture i.e. electrocution, loss of a finger, gunshot wounds, knife wounds, discussion of torture, canon-typical violence, death, near-death experiences, guns, weapons, abductions, betrayals, intended for mature audiences, happy ending, etc.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You remember a story you’d been told when you were a rookie—fresh off the cut and eager-eyed with far fewer scars. A more of a glass-half-full type of outlook on life, unknowing of what you’d experience during your years with the SAS: what choices you would have to make.

It went something like this.

There was a herd of deer that had jumped over the side of a bridge. On either end of that bridge, there were two trucks with their high beams on—not moving but sitting there; the deer got pressured. Spooked. One by one they just…hopped over and died on the rocks below—no noise above the breaking of bone and the clatter of antlers shattering to pieces.

You have to wonder if it was the fault of the first one who had jumped over for leading the rest to a quick end, or the drivers of the cars just trying to get where they needed to go; ignorant of the way they’d been ogling to see the panic in wide, black eyes. Either way, a whole herd of ten met their fate and left their bodies to feed the larvae and the birds.

The story had been told over drinks at a pub, at the time you’d taken an interest in it with no more than a slow comment of ‘poor things’ before you’d brought your glass to your lips. You don't know why you’re thinking about it now.

The timing could have been more opportune.

You send a bullet into the man’s kneecap, hearing the bone disintegrate and the flesh open like a flower. His scream follows, loud and hoarse—sobbing trapped behind a bitten tongue that drips blood down his chin.

Hand snapping up, you grasp the lower half of his face with a grunt, head shoving itself forward until you lock onto fluttering eyes and get consumed by a whining sob.

“I asked you a question,” you lick your lips, tasting sweat as it slithers down your skin. Your voice is slow and even, grip tight. With a shove, you push back the man’s face, wrist limp with the Basilisk as you wipe at your nose with it, unblinking, when you get to your full height.

The room wasn’t anything different from a million other black sites you’d been to. A single chair where your mark sits tied up, a desk that had been pushed to the wall, and a single door placed into the cracking foundations of a concrete wall. No windows. No vents.

Hotter than hell, too, and that place was something you were acutely in tune with.

“Anthony,” you say, waving your free hand as the scent of blood gets stronger, pools of it already on the hard floor. “I’m gonna call you Tony, alright?”

Tony yells, wrenching his arms against the zip-ties and screaming until his voice is hoarse.

“Damn you! I told you I don’t know anything!” He sobs. “My leg—I can’t feel my leg, oh, God it hurts.”

You frown, glancing at the door.

“Stop lying to me,” you look back, eyes unblinking in the low light. “You still have one left—tell me where your buyer is and I let you keep the ability to walk upright with a cane.”

“I don’t know his name—!”

“I don’t need a name, Tony,” you growl, irritated. “I need a location.”

“Copenhagen!” He wails, body spasming and hair dancing atop his head. “The warehouse is in Copenhagen, please, that’s all I know!”

You blink.

“Denmark?” You mutter, brows furrowing.

“Fuck!” Tony screams long, his skull tilting forward as he releases his guts to the floor through quick gasps. Backing up a step to stay out of the spray, you watch him silently; thinking. The flood of the man’s crimson fluids ripples. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“Denmark,” grumbling to yourself once more, you shake your head and sigh aggressively. “Of course.”

Without another glance, you turn and exit the room, pushing your Basilisk into its holster as the gear on your chest clinks lightly like the sound of rain hitting a metal roof. The door closes behind you, voice calling to one of the guards as he looks up quickly. His face is pale. Tony’s wails still echo out; water filling a bucket.

“Get a medic,” is what you settle with—slipping past on a fleet foot and new intel to pass on to Laswell. She’ll be intrigued, no doubt.

One step closer, your mind hisses to you. Just a little bit longer.

It’s too late to gain a conscious now.

Emmett Kinsman had been dodging you for years—dodging the Task Force—but with one of his suppliers giving away a location you’d been unable to pin, there was hope for a swift resolution to this mess.

The radio on your chest sizzles to life.

“Hart, sit-rep. How’s it lookin’ on the black site.” Kate’s American accent leaks into the earpiece attached to you, the cord looping the back of your neck and inserted into the shell; a device of black metal and plastic.

“I have a location for Kinsman. Copenhagen,” you ease out, moving a finger to the earpiece and pressing. Glancing at the rows and rows of doors in this endless hallway of dark smoke and obsidian mirrors—you’re eager to get your boots to the ground. Your other hand snatches at the rag swinging from your belt, taking it out and rubbing at your face with it until the stain of oil and flecks of blood smear like frosting on a cake. “Where are the boys? I need to be wheels-up to meet them ASAP.”

“Coming to you.”

“They’re here?” Your face twists as the words settle in, confused. “Why? Thought they were tracking another lead in Romania.”

Kate’s voice is smooth in your ear, moving like water as you turn a corner, stuffing your rag back into your belt.

“Are you surprised?” The woman jokes in a monotone; you’d only taken it as such because you knew her dry state of humor. “Really, Hart, you know he can’t stop until you’re back at his side. I was going to tell you sooner, but you were…occupied.”

Your feet pause for a moment at the beginning of her sentence, instinctual heat moving the length of your neck until you clench your jaw and continue onward at a slightly slower pace—eyes narrowed on the floor ahead of you.

“It isn’t like that, Kate,” you mutter. A low hum echoes the line and you fight a scowl as a group of soldiers walk past. Itching at your forearm, you shake your head. “John just likes having everyone together on missions like these. If it had been different, I’m sure he would have told me to fly back to them regardless of the intel. We’re tight on time.”

“I’ve known you both for more years than I can remember,” Laswell sighs. “Don’t try that with me, Captain.” You frown, clicking your tongue. “They’ll be arriving on the tarmac—get ready for a quick exit. We need Kinsman by month’s end.”

“Copy,” you utter, removing your hand from the earpiece and glaring ahead of you. A still-air silence envelopes the hallway, the only sound of your boots to the concrete and the reverberation that booms after.

It was so quiet here.

John Price—Captain Price—and yourself had a… complicated history. You’d joined up together; gotten through SAS selection neck-and-neck until time and its grubby fingers had forced your lives in different directions. Like two vines of reaching ivy, it had only been three years ago that you’d seen the other again, though you’d heard stories as you’re sure he had about you.

Hart: not the kind that beats but the kind that bleats, you had to explain to most—you weren’t unknown to the darker side of the job and the people that specialized in it. Your file was stretched with so much black ink that when you’d gotten the call on your phone, an unknown number, you’d recognized the gruff voice behind it and the first question you’d asked was how the hell he’d gotten clearance to track you down.

“No hello, then, Hart?”

“Not one for pleasantries, John. Explain. Quickly.”

“Business as always.” He’s wasted no time, voice going to a low grumble over the line that day. “Laswell took in a favor. You’ve been busy, Love…Room for one more joint-Op?”

It hadn’t panned out to only ‘one more joint-Op’.

After the mission was over, it had been raining on base. The sky had shed tears from clouds deeper than the gray shades of your gear, splattering packed dirt and concrete. Above your head, the thin overhang off of the armory door had spared you some of it, but when the wind had shifted your clothes absorbed specks of water like spots on a fawn. Your eyes had been looking out—expression open.

When the man exited the building and came up beside you, you both didn’t speak for a long time. You had been aware of his form, devoid of vest and gear, while yours was still layered with it to the utmost degree. You’d expected to leave that night—a good old-fashioned Irish Goodbye with a C-17 already waiting for you to board. To carry you off to another hellish deed done with ravaging cruelty for the sake of people who would never even know you existed.

The storm had stopped you…or, maybe something else had.

“Good to see you again, Hart,” John had stated, still not looking over at you as his arms had crossed, feet situating themselves. “Been too long.”

You had stayed silent—watching. The drain across the street was flooded. Sticks and leaves stuck at the drain as a whirlpool formed; only dangerous to bugs and the bits of garbage blown in by the wind.

Only after the wind shifts again did you speak.

“And what has John Price been up to in that time?” Your eyes had slid to stare, piercing in the low illumination of the armory’s outside light.

A huff of a chuckle, the one you’d remembered in the days of selection—coated in mud from crawling through man-made trenches and a sharp smirk of a snap when the barbed wire had grazed his back.

There were too many stories here. Too many. So many it became impossible to wonder what could have been and what couldn’t—all that existed were the little moments of fondness.

The two of you were nothing else but souls long past redemption; stuck on that knife’s edge and waiting for the hand to shake and send you through it.

You are made of memories.

“That’s a story told over bourbon,” John’s lips had flickered, and you’d blinked slowly, head tilting. “Not anything worth reliving, yeah?”

“Everything is relivable, Captain. You just need to find a reason as to why.”

The man had nodded his head your way, conceding with his blank eyes ahead to the rain. A rumble of distant thunder had flown out, making your ears twitch. You couldn’t stop watching him now that you had the chance—the brunette strands; the fatigues, and that accent. The muscle you don’t remember him having in that specific place all those years ago. The wrinkles on his forehead from age and stress are shown in yours as a mirror.

Tall; formidable.

There was a tension in the air that you chose not to dwell on—the same that had been brewing for as long as you’d known him.

“I want you to join up with me,” the sudden comment had made your body tense, eyes snapping away. In your pockets, your fingers twitch with surprise.

“Join?”

“Thought I’d catch you before you disappeared again, yeah?” A sheen of slight embarrassment is over your skin. John chuckles again. “Extend a formal offer—Laswell was the one who suggested it.”

“Well,” you’d huffed, licking your lips. “Now I’m surely not accepting.”

“Let me fuckin’ finish, Love,” John’s lips were pulled in a slight smirk—beard shifting. A pause as the wind whips again, shaking the trees before he grunts. “One-Four-One. My Task Force. Been thinking I’d need someone like you, but I knew you’d never agree to it.”

“Oh?” Your brow raises.

“Not bloody stupid.” He sighs. “Thought I’d ask anyway. Give you a proper goodbye if you weren’t so keen on handing it out.”

“I don’t like goodbyes,” you mutter, hearing John’s feet shift—his boots scraping.

“I know.” It’s low and even—not a prod or a dig. An observation.

A hand is moved out to you, hovering.

There isn’t any need for words when you glance down at it, and then up at him; staring into those blue eyes that so perfectly illustrate the hues of a roaring river, hidden away in the confines of a verdant forest.

A slow smile pulls at your lips, and you see the corner of the man’s eyes soften.

“Knew I’d get one out of you again,” he mutters as you slip your hand into his, a firm and all-encompassing heat of flesh and care.

“Don’t get used to it, John.” Shaking his hand, you smirk, legs shifting.

“Never,” he chuffs, squeezing your limb.

You don’t know why you stayed under that overhang with him that night. You don’t think you’ll ever be able to explain it as you had looked up and seen the C-17 fly off without you in its cargo hold, hands resting on your vest collar and blue eyes watching you, slightly narrowed.

You never even verbally told him you were sticking around…it had happened like a stray cat under the porch of your childhood home; taken in and cared for. Just the same, John never mentioned it beyond paperwork.

Shaking your head, you blink back to the black site, turning that last corner and making it to one of the exits. Pushing the metal-reinforced door open, you shift outside and move a hand to cover the glare of the setting sun from your eyes, grunting.

Laswell’s voice peaks back in as you jog toward the far-off body of a whirling plane, three figures just managing to walk down the ramp.

“Hart? It’s Laswell.”

“Copy,” you say, knees taking the brunt of the heavy items you carry in pouches and have strapped to your form. “What is it?”

“The Task Force is a go for Denmark—when you get there, I need everyone searching; we can’t lose him again.”

“Affirm. I’m on it, Kate.” You breathe. “John and I’ll get him. It’s personal for us, you know that.”

“That I do. Make sure to keep your heads on with this, Hart. Out.”

You lick your lips, nodding even if she can’t see you.

Slowing as you near the plane, friendly smiles spark up from the two Sergeants. Gaz comes over, grasping at your shoulder and speaking above the engine behind him.

“Ma’am! Good to have you back.” Soap chuckles, tilting his head your way as you grasp Kyle’s forearm—squeezing in greeting with a twinkle in your eye.

“Surprised to see us?” The Scot calls.

You scoff. “Laswell gave you up.”

“Damn,” Kyle moves back, fixing the cap atop his head and glancing back at his fellow Sergeant. Simon nods from behind the two to which you respond in like. “She bloody betrayed us.”

“Not as much as Kinsman,” the mood sours; lips thinning as you speak firmly. “Where’s John?”

“Right here,” the man in question comes down the ramp, blue eyes meet yours. A second of inspection passes, eyes from both parties flickering up and down forms for any mistreatment—any ailments. “Kate already told me. We’re leaving now that we have you.”

Bumping Simon’s fist with yours as you pass him, you ascend the ramp, Soap muttering under his breath about the flight time from behind.

Standing beside John, you pause like a bird, eyes half narrowed. “You didn’t have to pick me up, you know? I could have gotten another plane.”

The man the same rank as you hums, making sure the men are all inside and taking one last look out to the black site, eyes missing nothing down to the concrete structure to the lights that will soon illuminate the pure nothingness of the fields of this area.

“Wait time would have put us back.” Tiny eyes blink, a hand coming up to rest on his collar as his face shifts to you. “You good?”

“Always,” you mutter without hesitation. “Nothing from Romania, then?”

He grumbles, clenching his jaw and taking in your words. “Negative.”

A silence settles in which you quirk your brow—a small flicker of a smirk makes him turn away and stalk back into the hull, grunting in annoyance. You follow on silent feet.

“That’s it? It must have been horrible, then. Care to explain?”

“Get in your seat, Captain.”

You hold back a low chuckle, walking beside him until you both come to the back of the plane—easing back into the hard plastic, you huff as you clip in your seatbelt.

It’s all relative silence until the large metal beast is in the air; everyone's bodies shifting as the floor evens out. John and you take long breaths and, feeling the occasional jostle of the plane, you occupy yourself by picking at the dried blood all over your hands as the flight begins—Tony’s blood.

Blue eyes blink down at you, watching from the side.

“He know anything important?” You stifle a yawn on your lips, one hand coming up to cover the open-jawed expression of tiredness.

Glancing, you shrug with a slow response of, “Only a location. Even then I don’t know if it’ll pan out like we want it to, John.”

Everyone had been hoping for more, but they also knew that you were the best at interrogations and information retrieval. If you had called it that the man only knew a city and nothing else, John wasn’t one to question you. He knew better.

A large hand shifts to grasp your right bloody one, picking it up and bringing it to his lap. You let him do it without protest, shoulders loosening at the roughness of his calluses moving across yours until the familiar ritual begins to take part like a black mass.

Fingers twitching, you hear a hum as John takes out a rag from his pocket, opening it with a flick of his wrist. Moments later, the water bottle on the seat next to him is taken and the droplets that are left are scattered like rain over the fabric until they absorb.

“All dirty, Love,” he grumbles as your eyes soften, watching him trace the lines of your palm with the wet rag—dabbing away the beads of red. Watching, you listen as he continues. “We’ll figure it out, eh?”

Blue locks with you, holding your gaze until the permanent set of his brows slowly loosens. “We will,” he reaffirms firmly.

“...I should have shot him when I had the chance,” you whisper to John, words low and tone nothing more than a mouse’s murmur; a small pebble hitting the ground. “Don’t lie and say it wasn’t my fault.”

“You’re going to fucking ruin yourself with that, Hart.” He advises, his cleaning of blood coming to a slow halt. “You did what you thought was best,” John leans in closer, not blinking as you try to move your head away with a half-hidden scoff. A damp hand grabs lightly at your chin, shifting it back as you blink in mild shock into John’s face. He doesn’t falter. “It’s all any of us can do, yeah?”

As if it were nothing, he lets you go and shifts his focus back to cleaning your hand. You watch for a long moment, oblivious to the elbows hitting sides from farther down the hull, quick glances tossed between Sergeants and a Lieutenant who quirks a brow under his mask, huffing a sound in his throat.

“If I had,” you force back the stutter in your voice. “More people would still be alive.”

“Maybe,” John tilts his head, the rag brushing the length of your fingers. “Maybe not. We don’t know that, do we? No use wasting our breath talking about it then. What matters, Hart, is how we fix this.”

You sigh, repressing a shiver as his thumb brushes scars and blemishes, moving like moss over stone.

“And we don’t leave our bloody problems for the next poor bastard, do we?” You puff air from your nose, shaking your head at the smirked comment. You watch John’s beard move with it—taking in the crinkling of his eyes and the way his knee hits yours.

“Wonderful pep-talk, Captain.” You lean your head back against the netted sides of the aircraft, letting your eyes flutter shut; oblivious to the way he watches you. “The service is lost on you—therapist is right up your alley.”

“Fuck’s sake,” John scoffs. “I’d sooner go back to the academy than that.”

“The food was utter shite, wasn’t it?” You agree.

“No need to bring it up,” John comments lowly, amusement thick in his words.

You don’t know when you fell asleep, but you do know that the pressure around your limb stayed there for a long while—the rag moving over every sliver of skin until only the base was left behind; like a painter creating an ocean scene, shrouded in mist, every bit of red was gone.

Your dreams are plagued by Emmett Kinsman. His sharp face; his sly eyes and his knack for being undetected.

He’d been a part of your and John’s class in the Royal Military Academy—when all was done, he’d graduated and begun to serve in the 22nd SAS Regiment just as the both of you had. There was never much interaction there, beyond shared drinks and a few good words, a single operation, but the bonds of brotherhood run deep. If given the chance over any deployment or service, John or yourself would have given your lives for him—for the boy you’d bled and persevered with to a point of utter loyalty akin to beasts; unrestrained by any threat of violence, sharp attitude, or past faults.

And in the end, he’d thrown that all away to get into bed with terrorists.

Location: London, England

Time: 1718

Operation: ‘Purple Cloth’

Your eyes rest behind the glass of the bookstore, gazing out over the street from the second floor with a level of new-found skill and a surety in yourself. Fresh off the cut, you aren’t overly eager for this, but you’re assured in your abilities.

There can be no failure.

Emmett is down below, sitting at a café and sipping tea as John is stationed at a building farther down the street; waiting. Another man, directly relaying information to Emmett, is at the café as well, sitting in the corner reading a newspaper and facing the individual you’re supposed to follow. Only the four of you for this, and you’re not overly familiar with half of them. John was your only shining grace.

“Target’s getting the bill,” you shift your head into the collar of your shirt, muttering. “He’ll move soon.”

“He carrying?” John’s voice slithers in, a soft murmur.

You stare, expression lax at the large body that shifts and stands with a tight shirt on, waving off the barista when she tells him to have a good day. “If I had to guess? Negative. Nothing big—no bulge at his spine. At the very opposite end, I’d say an X13 could be concealed and accessed via a slit in the pant’s pocket and in a holster at his thigh. They’re baggy enough for it, but the draw time’ll be longer. Drug runners are sloppy.”

John grunts, and you address Emmett. “How are we doing, Mate?”

A smooth, suave, tone moves into your ear. “Not too bad, Sweet Thing. Else, I'd be better if you were sharing a drink with me before I disappear.”

“Only in your imagination, Kinsman,” John interrupts, unimpressed drawl taking your attention. “Keep on it.”

“I swear I rank the same as you, Price. Where do you get off ordering me around like your dog?” The comment is so easily dismissed as a joke between comrades that there’s no hostility there.

“Since I was given oversight,” the amusement is easily taken in John’s voice. “I’m the one keeping your arse alive, eh?”

The other addition to your team speaks up, a voice that in the future you’ve already long forgotten. He says to cut the chatter, and you have to agree.

Emmett and the target are nearing an alley.

“I’m heading down,” you utter, already turning and heading to the stairs, swiftly moving down them and exiting the building.

“Copy,” John’s voice fizzles the line. “I’ll head them off.”

“Emmett,” you move to link up with the fourth member of the team as he joins at your side, both of you sharking a glance and a jerk of your heads. “Keep him away from civilians. We can’t deal with casualties in this populated of an area.”

“He won’t have a chance to shoot them,” the comment makes your brows furrow, the tone not a cocky gloat but rather...quiet. A moment of silence wafts out. “What in the bloody hell is that supposed to mean, Kinsman?” You frown tightly, your gut swirling with something unidentifiable. The X12 in the back of your baggy sweatshirt is heavy—suddenly ten times more so.

In the corner of your eye, you see John far across the way shift, leaning before on a trash can, now standing upright. You swear you lock eyes with him, both gifted in all sense when it comes to war. Perhaps it was ingrained into both of your DNA—a knowledge of all things deadly; of threats unseen. Some primal and horrible understanding spanning back to when man had first raised a fist to another.

“Oi,” your voice pushes. “What does that mean?” Feet pivoting, you move closer to the alley where the light shade of hair disappears.

The line is silent.

Silent before a loud gunshot rings.

Birds scatter, and you instinctively duck down, hand snapping to your service weapon as your eyes go wide. Head snapping about, you dash to the alley opening above the screaming; pushing past fleeing people.

“Hart!”

“He’s in the alley!”

“Do not engage until I get there, do you hear me?!” You’re already at the entrance, X12 ahead of you, and the safety flicked off with a heavy finger. “Hart!”

The body of your mark is on the ground—a bullet in the back of his skull.

“Fuck!” You shout, feet slapping the concrete as you zoom past. “Price—target’s down, Emmett shot him in the damn head, on his tail now.”

“Fucking hell.” The man is growling out at you, voice heated.

Your eyes snap this way and that, weapon at the ready as you take a sharp turn. At the very end of the opening, you see him.

Kinsman slips his service weapon back into the base of his spine, pulling at his shirt to cover the grip as a mass of the crowd is just behind him. He rushes quickly on long legs.

“Emmett!” Your voice makes him freeze. There’s a long pause before anything is spoken; you have your sights trained—a perfect line-up to the roundness of his skull.

“I had hoped to be fast enough,” the man tells you, head tilting to the side, “but I should have known you’d move head-long into danger without backup.”

“Hart,” John’s voice nearly startles you from the line. “Sitrep, now!”

“Why would you do that, Emmett?”

“There’s more to this than being pawns, Hart,” Kinsman growls at you. “I play my game right, I always come on top. I needed to earn their trust; our target had a price on his head and no one else could get as close as me. Well,” he pauses, “us.”

“I’m taking you in,” you grit your teeth, hands tight on the gun. You don’t even want to think about what he means by ‘their’ or his ‘game’. It was always word puzzles with this man—one second you had the right piece, and the next the entire picture had changed like sand in the waves of a tide.

“Are you really that torn up about a drug runner?” A scoff makes you hold back a snarl, but your resolve is shaking. This was a man you had trusted—now fast can something that was forged with steel break?

“He was just some filthy nobody, Hart.” Emmett starts walking into the crowd ahead of him, and in your mind you know if you take that shot you run the risk of shooting an innocent civilian. “I’ll be more than a nobody. Or a grunt soldier. People are going to know me.”

Bodies flee quickly—screams. Mothers, children, husbands.

Kinsman smirks, and as your finger tightens on the trigger, he’s already swallowed by the hoard.

“I’ll be seeing you.”

John and you sit in the safehouse, for a moment, surrounded by quiet and the smell of hot tea. One week in Denmark, and you have no leads. The other three are away, sleeping in the rooms down the hallway.

“You’re still thinking about him,” John speaks up, eyes on you. It’s blunt, but that was just how he was.

You peek your eyes open slowly, your body slouching in the chair and feet outstretched under the table. Your boot lightly touches John’s own. A long sigh exits your nose, grumbling on your tired lips.

“John,” you level, drawing the name out like the years of your life. A thin warning.

The man clenches his jaw slightly, bringing up his cup and taking a slow slip. You see the flesh of his throat bob with the liquid as it goes down, the overhead light of the kitchen only a single bulb of warm glow.

“Been chasing him for years, Hart,” he says when the item is back to the woodgrain. Voice a deep murmur—a scrape of vocal chords. “We both have.”

“He knows too much,” you reply. “I can’t let him get away again. Strategies, operators, everything.” Your eyes shift as your head raises, blinking away the sleep in your glinting orbs. “For years he’s been under our nose, getting away with who knows what—”

“Hart,” your rant is interrupted, and you stop with a snap of your teeth. Blue eyes lock a concerned sheen to them. “Breathe.”

Your face moves away, arms loosely crossed over your chest tensing.

John’s body shifts to you, leaning forward until his elbows are resting on his knees. He stares, brows a line on his flesh. You send a swift glance, lips pulling.

“...Stop that,” your voice murmurs, echoing off the walls of the kitchen. John blinks, not speaking as you move in your seat. The man tilts his head, a slow something making his lips go back slightly. Gradually, your face goes hotter, blinking at him a few times; sucked in like a fox to a trap. “John, quit it.”

“M’not doing anything, Love.”

“Bullshit,” you try and glare at the looseness of his expression, his smirk that makes your gut tighten. Goosebumps move up your arms. “You’re a horror.”

A low chuckle wafts out, John shrugging casually before he leans back.

He takes up his cup again and takes down the last of the remnants. “Go to sleep,” hits your ears as your pounding heart takes a breather. It’s a grumble on the air—not as much an order as it is a suggestion. “It’s late.”

You decide to sip at your own drink as well, eyes drooping at the steam that wafts around your face, nose twitching to the scents.

“You?” John hums, looking you up and down; seeing the fatigue you carry. You’d been relentless for the week you’d all been here, holding the few strings of the lead you had to your chest—five-fingered grasping with a desperate prayer to all things unholy.

“I’ll be here.” You tilt your head his way, eyes still half-closed in your seat. Your answer is easy, pushed out in a slow sentence.

“Then so will I.”

John sighs under his breath. It’s a moment before an exasperated chuckle moves through your earbuds. You smile, eyes slipping closed fully.

Yet, they startle back open as the cup is taken from your hands, your chair moved back firmly.

“Up you get, then,” John grunts, and his arms snake around you. Blinking quickly, your jaw is slack as you get taken up into a tight carry; John’s chest firm and your nose brushing the side of his chin.

Air getting sucked into your lungs, you stifle a hitch in your breath.

It’s only after he starts walking forward, hiking you farther up into him, and his fingers gliding over your clothes, that you start to relax. His heat seeps like a warm fire.

Head sagging to the side, you grumble into his neck as you miss his eyes looking down at you, eyes soft in a way only you would have been able to see. “Can walk, y’know.”

He hums, head shifting back to the hallway as he carries you to the last door on the right, bumping into the wood with his shoulder and shifting to walk in sideways so you don’t let your legs on the frame.

“Remember Preu? 05’?” John asks you, moving over to the bed and setting you down slowly, a tiny huff exiting his mouth. Your body sinks into the mattress, head to the pillow as your hand comes up to rub at your eyes. The man moves to grab the blanket at the end of the bed—knowing your trained habit of sleeping atop the comforter on operations; not tangled up in sheets just in case. He slips off your boots. “Carried you two miles.”

“I recall it,” you grunt, a tired flicker coming to your lips. “Bleeding out and all.”

“Well,” John hums, quirking a brow. “Wasn’t about to let my Hart die on me. Blood was the least of my worries.”

Your pulse flutters at the title, even if it’s just your codename and not the beating muscular organ inside of your breast.

My Heart.

But it’s never that simple.

A hand moves up your cheek, a kiss pressed to your forehead.

The both of you already know you love each other. It wasn’t a secret. You were smart; eyes sharper than a blade—you caught the way he watched you, saw the softness of his expression, and felt the drag of his hand. Just as he caught the way you stayed beside him, an ever-present pair of eyes watching his six. The content nature that only you showed him.

With feet so eager to leave at any moment, it said much that you chose to exist near him simply because you wanted to.

You loved each other.

Boil it down, and you’d both known even back in the Academy that it would be the two of you at the end of all things. The rivers said your name. The valleys rustled with the breeze of your breath. You saw John in the bits of water that sloshed the rocks and in the earth beneath your palms.

Over the years you’d been apart, the yearning hadn’t been any less sharp—any less potent. In every birdsong, the echoes of the other's voice flew and disappeared on wingbeats. In everything that existed, there was a fraction of what should be.

What should be.

“John,” your voice is a whisper, nothing more than a rustle of a cloth. He keeps his lips to your forehead, resting there for a moment against all sense and responsibility. John’s eyes droop down, lashes resting on the swell of his cheeks. “You know I love you.”

He takes a breath. Rain is in the air—the movement of a storm’s wind. A leaving C-17.

It’s a low mutter into your flesh.

“I know.”

You grasp at his wrist, pulling lightly. Without a noise, John slips in beside you, kicking off his boots with a single clop of the soles to the wood and the movement of your blanket. He grunts, pushing his nose into your scalp, arms going around your middle. Your head slots under his chin, lips to his Adam’s apple.

The house is silent beyond the murmur of the pipes—the buzz of awaiting electricity.

So many memories. So many lost dreams. It was akin to two skeletons lying in a grave of their own making, forever holding the bones of the other. Duty and honor are etched into the fractures.

But he still holds you, he still murmurs into your ear, “Sleep, Love.”

“And you?” You ask, mirroring the conversation in the kitchen.

John’s lips move along your flesh, moving into a soft smile as he glances down at you. His beard scrapes you delicately.

“I’ll be here.”

Then it is here you’ll stay, dreaming of deer and the way nothing could compare to how he held you in his arms.

—

“I have eyes on,” your head snaps up, blankly staring ahead as your fingers hover over the hanging beads of a wind chime. You stand outside of a restaurant in the heart of Copenhagen.

Laswell had sent in more eyes for the Task Force to use—local soldiers that knew the layout of the city better and where would be a good place to look. For days you’d been moving through the streets; far-off storage units and hidden buildings providing fruitless harvests. Anthony had said a warehouse, but that was panning out as nothing as well.

False information? Possibly, but unlikely. The man had been genuine in his pain and pleading, and it only served to confuse you more.

You had Gaz with you and five others, taking over as the leader of this fireteam while John headed the other with Johnny and Ghost. They were on the opposite side of the city, and you can’t help but compare this to the moment Emmett had become an enemy.

But divide and conquer was the only option in times like these.

Emmett had become someone, just as he said he would. The man was in charge of supplying arms to terrorist organizations all over the world, and with his knowledge of how the SAS operates as well as any number of special forces, he’d utterly disappeared off the radar.

A wraith of lies and murder.

He had locations all over the globe with his goods, shipped out for money and power.

And now you have a positive ID.

“Where are you,” your voice is hard and stiff, the body already moving back from the chime and leaving its little bits and bobs swinging.

“Café down the street,” feet nearly locking together, you continue down the street to where you know Gaz’s last position was. “He’s just…sitting there.” A pause. “You want to know what it’s called in English, Ma’am?”

“The café?” your brows furrow, jogging across the street.

“‘The Warehouse.’” Growling under your breath, you shake your head and send a curse into the air after a pause.

“I think the man thought he was clever,” Kyle’s voice is smooth and teasing.

“Should have shot his other leg,” you grunt. “You told Laswell? John?”

“Negative, I’ll get on it—”

“I’ll do it,” you interrupt. “Tell the others to group up at your position and spread out to create a choke point; we can’t let him get away.”

“Rog. Will do.”

You patch into John’s frequency.

“We have him,” you instantly breathe out. “Down Holbergsgade—café called ‘The Warehouse’.”

It’s swiftly that an answer hits you. “Get him surrounded, we’re coming.”

Your heart is moving rapidly, fast in your chest as you pass people and business quickly. You didn’t like this—didn’t like the similarities, the…nostalgic dread that builds. A café of all places? Sitting down? Waiting?

It was so ironic it made alarm bells go off.

“John,” you lick your lips, glancing at faces as they pass. “I think he knows we’re here.”

“Explain.”

“A café?” John’s low grunt lets you know he understands. “Just sitting there? He knows—he’s not dumb enough to throw away all of his secrecy just as we so happen to get here and begin looking for him.”

“How sure are you?” The man takes your words into account, and you hear his breath puffing as he runs to your location.

“Ninety,” you breathe.

“Then I’m callin’ it off.” Your eyes widen, feet skidding as you come to a stop.

You have no clue as to how far John will go to keep you safe—even if it means potentially letting one of the SAS’s highest HVTs go. There wasn’t anything that could compare to the thought of you getting in harm's way. Not you.

John had spent his whole life watching soldiers die in the worst ways possible; they haunted his dreams and he knew they’d follow him to his grave—men he’d led down paths that they never should have been on.

Not you.

Losing you would break what little was left of him, the remnants held on by tape and sheer stubbornness. One of the last old faces he could still look at anymore; could draw comfort from in the thin hours. To hold and to love.

You both knew you wouldn’t stand for it.

“No,” your voice cuts across, monotone. “I’m not allowing that.”

“Bloody hell, Hart, listen to me—do not,” John growls, making your spine tingle, “go after him. If he knows we’re fuckin’ here, we need to pull back and close off the area.”

You’re walking forward, that same pressure of a gun at the back of your spine. It was almost poetic.

A thought sparks. Years of knowledge and understanding lighting up.

Emmett was a snake.

A snake that liked to play games and prove points; greed stuck into his brain for reasons you can’t quite say for certain. Even if you did catch him, he would never tell the locations of his goods or the buyers.

But there was one way to find out. One way this might turn.

“There’s a tracker in my arm,” you speak, growing more sure of your actions with every fast movement of your body. The café is just up the street, and a head of blonde hair is a knife to your vision. “I asked Laswell to insert and monitor it years back when I had to infiltrate a cell before I joined up with you again. Cautionary procedure since I had to forgo my rig and gear.”

A sharp bark. He knew what you were insinuating. “Hart!” You were going to get yourself taken hostage.

“Get Kate to watch it, John.” You move off his frequency before he can comment again, half of a roaring refusal cut off. Speaking to Gaz with a restricted throat, you say, “Kyle?”

“Right here, Ma’am.”

“Good. Don’t engage—I’m moving in.”

A stiff breath is taken in. “W…what was that?”

You don’t reply, only saying, “Whatever happens, I order you and the others to stay back, yeah?”

Your hand pulls the earpiece out and shoves it into your pocket right as you slip into the chair directly across from Emmett Kinsman.

“Emmett,” you say in greeting, moving up a few fingers to a barista with a low call of your order. The individual nods and moves off before you lock on green eyes; they nearly make you flinch.

You can only imagine what Gaz is telling John right now.

Kinsman blinks at you, but he isn’t surprised. You were right.

“Hart,” the man smiles. His voice is still the same, though he looks older. “Pleasure seeing you again. Enjoying the sights of the city?”

“Not particularly,” you stare at him.

He chuckles, tilting his head before he brings his drink to his lips. He swallows and continues.

“You always were serious. No fun.” You take the insult without any emotion, blinking at him slowly. What was his play?

“Why?”

“You already know why,” he shrugs, dressed in a nice suit. “I’ve made a name for myself—my name will be remembered for ages.” A twinkle in his eye. “SAS soldier turned weapon supplier; isn’t it exciting.”

“It’s a disgrace,” you lean forward, only stopping your voice from rising as a cup is placed down in front of you by the barista.

Your face plasters a fake smile and you nod, moving it in front of you. Emmett watches with a smirk.

“I call it a change of heart.” He sighs, smirk simmering to a casual smile. “But I am glad to see you, you’ve been creating a big mess of things and I took it upon myself to have a meeting between us as old friends.”

“I’m not your friend,” you growl. “You’ve killed innocent people for no more than a fucking paycheck.”

“Well,” he snorts. “I don’t kill anyone. I’m the middle man—there’s a difference.”

Rage makes your eyes go to slits.

“And innocents, Sweet Thing?” Emmett leans in closer, face so smug and open you want to pull your weapon on him and worry about the consequences later. “What do I call what you do then?”

“A necessary evil,” you huff. “One I carry on my shoulders just like every other soldier does. One that was far better than supplying terrorists.”

Kinsman shrugs, moving back and picking up his drink, swirling it. “If you say so.” He hums. “You have to try the pastries here, you know. They’re very good.”

“I know you’re here because you expected us to find you, what I can’t figure out is why you broke your cover in the open instead of turning yourself in.” You look around at the faces in the outdoor seating, studying them trying to pinpoint if they’re civilians or in league with Kinsman. “Tell me before I decide to shoot you right here and now and end this regardless of hidden goods.”

“You already tried that, Hart,” Emmett laughs. “Pointing a gun at me didn’t work last time.”

“I’m not going to use a gun,” you ease out. “I’m going to take the butter knife on the table and slit your throat.”

“Uncivilized,” Emmet grumbles, frowning at the silver object near your hands. “It isn’t even sharp.”

“Good.” Green eyes narrow, unimpressed. He sighs, fingers moving in an outward gesture of exasperation.

“If you must know before the main finale, I wanted to bring you here to say that I’m thoroughly impressed with your drive.” You try to stave off the shock in your stomach at the words coming out like a charmer’s flute. Raising a slow brow, you’re caught off guard. Emmett chuckles. “You nearly caught me at several instances throughout our game of cat and mouse. Many times I forget who the assigned roles were even given to; I’m telling you that I had fun.”

You stare, face tight.

Emmett hums and his eyes go to slits.

“But every game has to come to an end. I’m growing tired of it.”

The building across the street erupts into a great ball of fire.

—

John hears the explosion in the air, the shockwave that leaves his body halting to look into the sky in time to see black smoke.

“Fuck,” he says under his breath. “Fuck!”

He rushes into the panicked crowd, memories stuck in his head and a bone-deep fear he’d been feeling since you cut the connection in your earpiece. Gaz had been relaying to him what was going on action for action—a football game, only the difference was that your life was on the line.

“Kate,” John shouts. “Get the authorities down here now! We have an explosion on Holbergsgade.”

“Explosion?” The woman’s voice is sharp and disbelieving. “What’s going on—”

“Hart’s in the bloody crossfire, there’s no time!” John’s face is tight, wind whipping past his ears as screams fly on the wind; crying. “The fool is trying to get herself taken fucking hostage for intel!”

Whatever else was said was lost to the wind—Gaz comes over the line, calling to him in a panic as Johnny and Simon join in.

“The entire building just went up in—”

“Fucking Christ—”

“Price, what is this?”

“All of you get down here!” John sprints past people on the ground, ripping his gun out of the back of his waistband. There’s no arguing.

When the Captain turns the last corner, carnage greets him.

The building across from the café was reduced to nothing but rubble and a still-burning flame. Eyes wide, John only looks at it for a few moments, too preoccupied with you.

Where were you?

His jaw clenches, eyes burning with rage. Such a perfect soldier yet such a flawed sense of teamwork, he had a feeling you’d try something like this—had left Gaz with you for that very reason. Fuck he should have been at your side. He should have known.

A low grumble moves through his lips, head snapping all around. There are bodies on the ground. Blood pooling under thick building material—fabric in the breeze.

“Hart!” John yells, running to the café and seeing the remnants of a fast fight.

The Captain’s heart drops to his feet, face burning with hellfire so much that a sheen comes to his cheek. His hand moves out to touch the handle of a butter knife that had been slammed into the table now half-fallen over, eyes stuck on only one thing on the ground under it.

Through the wails and the call of sirens, the man stares at the two long fingers sitting in the dust.

Never in his life had he felt a fear like this.

—

“I wanted to be kind about this,” Emmett fiddles with the wrappings of his bandaged left hand, only three fingers remaining. “I was going to make it quick.”

You’re locked in a cell-like room, head to the side and blood leaking out of a cut face. Burns travel up your arm, the sticky puss leaking out only serving to make you shiver. You don’t know where you are—don’t know what happened after you severed Kinsman’s fingers with that knife.

But you know the pain isn’t something that you haven’t already gone through before.

Your voice is hoarse but firm as it leaks out of you, vision spotty. You’d been thrown in here after a ride in the trunk of a car. The ground is concrete.

“...Don’t make me laugh.”

Emmett growls, eyes wide with hatred.

“Pathetic!” He barks eyes looking you over with disgust. “Look at what you did to my hand!”

His other hand connects with the bars of the cage, producing a metal ringing sound as you push yourself up with one arm, eyelids flinching in pain. Sitting up, your body falls back to the wall behind it, and you grunt when the air in your lungs is expelled. You lick at your dust-coated lips, your head ringing and your focus failing. Concussion.

“Least of your worries,” you roll your jaw, a wave of pain making your body seize up and your hands tense with quivering shakes. Your mouth opens with sharp pants. Bile pools in the base of your throat.

It’s nothing.

John will come soon. The tracker. If Laswell can get it working again, you’d be out of here and you would have whatever this location turns out to be and the intel that it can offer you—computer databases would be a one-and-done game. You would get names, coordinates, and buyers. It could all be over.

Your clothes are melted into your skin, and when you move, they peel away with the remnant of your epidermis. The flesh of your left thigh and arm had taken the worst of it—and the cut from flying debris over your left cheek hasn’t stopped bleeding.

Blood drips from it, and a loud ache makes your head pound all the worse.

You’ve gone through worse.

“I don’t know why I bother,” Emmett snarls, the crimson bandages thick over his hand. “But it isn’t a problem,” he says, moving his other hand to slick back his hair. “It isn’t a problem,” the man utters again. “You’re going to help me. Yes…I’ve made up my mind. I need you to understand why I do the things I do.”

Your brows furrow, but above this burning in your head, it’s hard to understand what’s being said to you. Shadows move and Emmett orders one of his men to open the cell door.

You fight the black dots at the sides of your vision, leaking until you’ve accepted the reality of yourself going unconscious. As your body slouches to the side, hands ruthlessly grasp under your arms and drag you to your feet.

“Everyone has a breaking point.”

—

“What do you mean,” John glares at Laswell, his arms crossed over his chest; hands tightly grasping at his biceps. “You can’t find her?”

“The tracker was old, John,” the woman tries to explain, furiously typing at her computer that rests on the table in front of her—her spine bent over as the rest of the One-Four-One stay in a limbo of anxious looks. “To get it working again, it would need something to restart it. I don’t know if you can see,” Kate’s eyes are hard as they lock with his, “but I can’t do anything if she’s not here first.”

“Well of course she’d not bloody here Laswell, fucking Kinsman has her!” He shouts, hands moving out in a display of aggression.

“Captain,” Kate rises to the challenge, hand moving flat to the table and glaring with the heat of a thousand missiles. “Do not take that tone with me.”

John snarls and jerks his head away, feet on the ground trading weight.

The man was borderline feral—all snapping teeth and sharp glances. Gaz had seen him like this only a handful of times, MacTavish even fewer. Ghost, of course, knew, but even his brown eyes wouldn’t leave his Captain, absorbed in the way he was unable to stay still for even a moment. He was in full gear, too. Had put it on directly after returning to a local base.

John was ready to go to war, down to the rifle that swung from a strap at his side, the ammunition stuffed to his chest—sidearm at his thigh. A rabid dog with intelligence and the knowledge of where teeth needed to be applied to a neck for a clean kill. Simon doubted he wanted it to be clean.

John was ready to rip people to pieces.

“Give me something,” the Captain says in a low growl, beard shifting. “Give me what I need.”

Kate splays her hands. “All we have is surveillance of a car leaving the area—the smoke covers all chances of the drone we had flying picking up a clear picture. John,” Laswell eases, standing up, “there’s only so much we can do. We need to wait—”

“We can’t bloody wait,” Gaz speaks up, “What’ll he do to her in the meantime?”

“Garrick’s right, we need to be on the ground with this.” Johnny nods, mohawk bobbing. “That’s one of our own—we’re not sitting around with our thumbs up our arses, Laswell. Not with Hart.”

Simon blinks, humming. Laswell’s eyes shift to him, near pleading for one to be on her side with this and see sense. Ghost shrugs. “I’m with them. Hart’s one of our own; we’ll do what needs to be done.”

John’s chest swells with pride while his eyes get stuck on your file on the table, your printed picture, and your black ink—he’d never loved an image more, but nothing could beat the real thing. He needed you back. He’d gone through hell with you for his entire life; you’d suffered with him and only locked your hands together and held on tighter.

That was love—that was duty.

John Price wasn’t against skewing his morals for the sake of your safety. You would always be his most important mission. The man didn’t want to think about what might happen if he found you too late.

“Give me the video of the vehicle,” he grunts, jaw tight and his eyes beady. His body slightly leans forward to Kate, love going lower. “Or I’m going out there myself.”

Laswell frowns tightly at him.

“I just sent it into forensics—they’re trying to get a match. Go out if you want, but I won’t be able to stop the firestorm that comes out of it.”

She closes her laptop and moves past him, sending one last comment into the stone man as he towers ever taller.

“She’s strong, John. If you’re smart, you’ll keep yourself out of the crossfire until we have a definitive hit.”

Her voice echoes from behind him as his hands slowly move to clench into knuckle-whitening fists.

“If Kinsman gets a tip we’re still onto him—you’ll never see Hart again.”

—

Day Three:

Your days start blending. One moment you hear the snapping of your bones, and then the next you’re wasting away in this cell—ears ringing and eyes buggy. So much blood. Blood on the walls—blood on the chair they strap you into in the other room; even stuck in the groves of your flesh.

You don’t think you can stop closing your eyes and seeing a deer at the bottom of a bridge drop-off. It’s stuck in your head like a virus; those car lights in the back of your mind just waiting for you.

There’s no sense as to what they do to you—all its purpose is, is to prove a point to Emmett. A sort of broken retribution for your interference and his fingers.

Vain man, really. You’d told him as much when he was watching you get your own finger torn off my pliers; spit it at him as the blood from your bitten tongue stayed his suit. You remember the feeling of the knuckle popping first, and then the burning heat of the flesh being twisted to the side. Two firm yanks and the flesh had sprung like elastic, fissuring, the tendon snapping.

You think you blacked out after that, but you can’t be sure. All you remember doing is screaming.

You woke up with your left pinkie finger completely gone, resting outside in the hallway to mock you from past the bars. Your eyes could see the bone sticking out of it, and all that was left on you was a badly cauterized stump.

When Emmett had come to gloat, you started slurring out laughter.

“I’m going to rip you apart.” Your broken body had jerked back and forth like a marionette doll, only succeeding in spreading more red over the floors as green eyes widened and went dumbfounded.

It sounded like a choking fish.

All he’d done was left, quickly passing the pinkie left limp on the ground.

Day five:

You can’t move your body as they dump you back into the chair—the drain below you flooded over with crimson and bits of hair; vomit and torn-off fingernails. You’re unable to open your eyelids fully.

A hand grasps at your face, yanking it up into the overhead light until a bucket of water is dumped directly over your head. Your body jerks, coughing and darting forward until you’re shoved to the back of the chair and the rope is tied around the front of your shoulders, the second at your wrists.

Trying to suck down air, you shiver with the strength of an earthquake. Whoever said that they would never be afraid while being tortured was a liar; whoever thinks that they would be able to push through it—a fraud. Emmett was right, everyone had a breaking point.

But you admitted yours would only come after your death.

Your legs are seized, bent up as you hiss as well as you’re able, teeth snapping.

They’re dumped back down into a bucket of ice-cold water as droplets drip from your nose—wet skin for the moment only holding streaks of gore. Even with your scattered mind, you know what this means.

Heart tight and eyes widening, you try to push back in the chair; try to fight the rope and the way your body won’t respond.

A battery is rolled up beside you on a metal cart. Jumper cables.

There’s a low chuckle at the way your face goes fearful.

—

John shoves open the door to Laswell’s temporary office, already talking before it hits the far wall.

“Do we have her?” His hands move beside him, brushing the grip of his sidearm. He hadn’t been out of his full gear for more than five minutes in days. Waiting day and night for any word; sleeping in it, eating in it. The forensics team had been stumped, unable to get more than a model out of the picture.

But this might finally give him something to act on.

Kate is moving, grabbing documents and her laptop, speeding past him and out of the door.

“Kate!” John shouts, following after. “Hey,” he calls, grabbing at her arm to stop her.

The woman only halts to say, quickly, “We have a hit. Follow me.”

John’s heart is rampaging, pulse wild under his skin as his gloved hands twitch. Finally. He can only smoke so many cigars—only think of so many scenarios until he feels he needs to vomit. You’d been gone for too long. Every moment had been like trying to walk with a cloth over his head; lost.

He’d grown stiff. Stiffer than normal. Everyone had seen it.

“Where is it, then?” John asks as Laswell pushes open the door to the meeting room, the other three already inside.

“A property outside of Copenhagen—bought through a proxy on a fund that was linked to blood money in South America; it all went directly back to Kinsman. It was found only ten minutes ago.” A pause. Electricity in the air. “But that’s not how we found it.”

“How,” Simon asks, moving closer.

John gives the woman his full undivided attention, hands moving to rest at his collar in a soothing gesture.

“Her tracker came back on.” Eyes go wide, all sharing rapid glances as Kate opens her laptop and opens a man, turning the device for them to see. “Same location.”

Johnny blinks, his eyes narrowing. “And what does that mean?”

“That can’t have just done that by itself,” Gaz mutters, brown eyes sliding over to John who’s stiller than a wolf. The Sergeant pauses.

His eyes are dead set on that screen. His thighs were so tense it was nearly like the Captain was about to sprint out of the room. Kyle’s face goes blank at that, never quite seeing the extent that your disappearance had on the man. His superior had bags under his eyes; far more pale than usual. His apparel was ruffled, too. Even in the more serious of situations, the Sergeant had never seen John so…out of it. He was always the one with the even head, even if he had a short fuse with certain things. Nothing was ever done without thought, he should say.

But this is something else.

“Torture,” Simon gives his two cents and John’s cheek twitches at the word. “Electrocution. They jump-started it and didn’t even know.”

“Bloody Jesus,” John breathes. Everyone had already had a hunch, but no one had wanted to name it.

It’s a low rumble that makes the rest of them freeze, though. It was so dead in tone that it even made Kyle’s spine lock up; Johnny’s eyes went a smidgen upward. Simon, although his face was covered, felt his lips twitch.

John looks at nothing but that dot on the computer screen.

“Am I green, Laswell?”

Kate looks at John. It’s like setting a hellhound loose.

“You’re green, Captain.”

—

You’re tossed into the cell and your body rolls along the floor, bouncing and flinching until your back slams into the wall. Air is forced from your lungs, coming out in a loud grunt before you land on your stomach in a heap. Staying there, your nerves are fried.

Every moment you think the twitching of your fingers will stop—the dance of your muscles responding to the aftereffects of electrocution, it only starts back up again. Your eyes blink rapidly; your clothes have the scent of smoke to them.

Gasping for breath, you feel like you’re drowning and being set on fire all at once.

Yet the question in your head was a simple one, one you’d been asking for days.

Where was John?

Emmett enters the cell, clicking his tongue as the metal hinges squeak.

“I’m not surprised it’s taking this long,” he explains. “But I am surprised you’re still alive, admittingly.”

A boot comes out and places itself atop your shoulder, pressing down slowly until its full weight is on top of you. Your mouth opens in a shuddering sound of a dying animal, blood dripping from your ears and nose.

“I know you’ve taken torture before—even taken a part of it,” Kinsman sighs. “But, shit Hart, you really do scare me when I know you’re strong enough to get through th—”

Your body jolts up, grappling Emmet’s leg and twisting it to the side. Regardless of pain—of agony—there’s such primal rage inside of you that what little adrenaline you can bring forth is all that more addictive.

The man collapses in a heap, gasping, but you’re already on top of him, wrestling your hand to his neck, missing finger and all. Blood moves, staining his precious suit and dripping from your mouth into his hairline. You bare down your weight on him, teeth clenched and eyes wild—one orb holding nothing but red from burst veins and the other full of a vicious gleam of ferality.

Hands snap up to your wrists, mouth opening in flapping panic.

But Emmett has grown weak; he’s out of practice. All of those years out of the SAS, giving up on the training of the body to match the mind. The idiot wasn’t even carrying a gun when he walked into the cell of a charging stag, its antlers dripping gore, sharper than any knife.

When the flaps of his eyes fall there’s no gloating speech—there’s no snort of a tall and proper victor. All you do is take the front of his face, grasp it, and start sending his skull back into the concrete floors.

Crack.

…Crack.

….Crack.

Only when the sound of his head breaking open meets your ringing ears, do you force your wheezing lungs to take a large breath.

Emmet Kinsman died as he lived.

A fucking piece of shit.

“Fuck you,” you spit on his corpse, saliva bloody; his jaw is loose as you release the man’s face, eyes bulging. Falling to the side, you groan in pain, your body curling into itself until you resemble a sleeping fawn. You’re shaking more and more with every second, coughing with the force of an earthquake until your shredded vocal chores force you to stop.

But the brain is a funny thing.

In times of danger, survival is the only thing that takes priority. It was why, in a long shove of your hand to the floor, with your bones creaking and your vomit meeting the ground, you’re able to stand. It isn’t enough to help you heal the snapped bone of your right leg, however, and in a steadily failing stupor, you drag it behind you. In this state, nothing else matters to you besides a simple command: get out.

Your shoulder slaps the metal of the cell as you stumble out of it, careening into the far wall and letting out a loud shout.

Eyes fluttering, you connect your temple to the cool concrete, trying to breathe.

It hurts too much, your mind says. God, I can’t feel my limbs.

A long trail of blood follows you down the hallway as you slide along the wall, using it as a brace.

You want to see John, you whisper inside of your head. You want to be held by him—be taken into his chest; cared for away from all of this fighting.

A trip back to Herefordshire with him, to go deep into the country together; rest in the green grass where no one can find you for just a few good hours. It didn’t have to be forever, you would say. Just a few hours. A few hours of sky and earth wrapped in a time loop of just your own.

You want to kiss him there. In the open, out in the wild. You want to stay by his side, your mind thinks as you stumble over the three dead bodies in the left corridor, bullet wounds in their heads. You want to be by his side forever, no more gaps in years, not more longing. It’s so close you can nearly reach out and grasp it—

Your name is yelled on a heavy breath, and hands capture your shoulders as you fall straight into them with no more strength.

Blue eyes lock with yours as you’re hurriedly settled to the ground, body limp and eyes trying to stay open.

Blue eyes on a grassy hill.

“Hart, fucking hell.” Hands move your body, pressing and sliding—finding every opening and spreading blood like water. “Fucking hell! Hey!”

You’re yelled at, and the ripping of pouches and the familiar sound of bandages being wrapped come to the back of your brain. A hand shakes your head, locked under your chin as you take slow, broken, breaths.

“Please, fuck sake, please,” it’s a desperate growl, so familiar and yet a world away. Your body is moved and manipulated as every leaking wound is packed with so much gauze it hangs out of you like you’re a mummy. The burns along your flesh are crust and infected, open skin peeling back.

But the pain is lesser now. Easier to manage.

There’s such a ruckus that it’s hard to focus on John—the man on the hill. In the grass and the wind. Brown hair moves in the breeze as white clouds roll past. On the air, there’s the scent of rain, and in the far distance, you can see a group of ten deer grazing, ears twitching.

Maybe you’ll ask them if they blame their leader, or the two trucks on the end of a bridge.

“Keep your eyes on me!” You blink into John’s tiny blues, that mist rolling back. You stare for a moment as he frantically screams into his radio; night vision rig on his head and all-black gear covering him from you. His face is pale, his eyes glossy. “Look at me, hey,” he blinks as he notices you watching, surging forward. “Hey, keep 'em open, yeah? You keep them fucking open, Love.”

Your chest is heavy.

“John,” you push out a flicker coming to your lips as your vision slightly unblurs itself to the sight of a flood of blood on the man’s body—an unimaginable amount.

“I’m ‘ere,” his accent grows deeper with emotion, one hand holding your cheek and the other at your shoulder, keeping you still to stop any additional damage. “I’ve got you, you understand me? I’m not letting you go, so don’t you think that I will.”

It’s a double-edged sword.

A smile peels back your chapped lips, red running from the corner of your mouth. You glance at his stained gear again. The abyss swirls at the corners of your eyes.

“Is that your blood, or mine, John Price?”

You hear him scream for a medic, and then it all goes numb.

—

You dream of deer on a hill, but every time you search for John, he isn’t there. You go past rivers—

“She’s dropping!”

“Get me the defibrillator!”

—past copses. Your voice goes high and low, but all the while you look, there’s nothing but a nagging feeling in the back of your head that you shouldn’t be here.

“Again!”

It’s a strange nagging, truly. Like falling asleep in the middle of the day and waking up in the night without any remembrance of what had happened prior. A displacement of the mind.

“We’ve got a pulse, Doctor, do we stop and—”

“No, I need to finish off the internal bleeding or else she won’t make it another day. Get me the cauterizer, now.”

You blink and grip your chest, a sudden pain sharp in your heart as the grass moves about your ankles. Coughing, you bend over, your eyes fluttering rapidly. In the deepest part of your eardrum, you hear a murmur of a voice you can’t place.

“The man came back, again. He’s been out there for days. He just…sits there, waiting until someone tells him something. He can’t come in, and I’m sorry about that. I’m sure hearing his voice would help more than mine, but you’re in too much of an unstable condition for that. If you get another infection, you won’t…hm, I shouldn’t talk about that. Everyone in school said only to talk positively to patients when they’re like this. I…I’m sure he’ll be able to come in soon. I think everyone calls him John if that rings a bell?”

“John?” Your eyes flutter open, sharp light above you making you snap them back closed. No one answers.

It’s a long moment before you find the strength to breathe in the oxygen from the mask over your face, taking a long and deep inhale before a slight cough makes your abdomen tight. You flinch at the pull of stitches, all coming from so many places, that it’s unwise to move too much.

Gradually, you open back up your eyes, pushing past the sting. Inside of your throat, the skin is so dried out you can feel it cracking at every articulation of your words.

“Where's…John?” When you shift your head to the side, no one’s there. No one’s even in the room, either.

Blinking through the haze, your lips twitch on your face, skin tight. With a slap of your weak hand, you grasp the oxygen mask and pull it down to your neck, grunting in mild annoyance at the medicated numbness of your form.

Your leg is in a cast—and your left side is tightly bound by wrappings to hide away the burns where skin grafts most likely live. With a glance, you see the missing pinky and the bandages that cover the strange remnants.

The facial wound will scar, you know, but right now it’s patched over and healing. That’s all you can ask for.

Sighing long, you blink slowly at the ceiling, licking your lips. You need water.

Outside, the murmurs are missed to you as your unmarred hand reaches for the nightstand table, where a half-drunk bottle of water sits next to a tray of food. Even if your stomach rumbles, water takes precedence. Your throat was like the Sahara desert.

“Forget something, John?”

“Bloody fork. The bastard gave me the slip. Dropped mine, needed to go back and grab another.”

“Oh, that’s alright—you could have asked one of us to get one for you. We’d hate for you to miss any time for visiting hours.”

“It’s fine; gets me moving, eh?”

“Just grab us if you need anything else!”

A low grunt is accented by the opening of the door; immediately you tense and pause, neck fighting itself to shift forward once more.

Wide blues lock with your own, and it’s like every pain fades away.

John’s jaw is slack hidden under the layers of his beard bristles, brows going atop his head in an instant. The sound of a dropping metal utensil echoes through the room.

You both stare at one another for a long time, and the murmur of nurses accumulates to some peaking through the crack; their expressions also going to shock. A few scurry off, probably to get a doctor.

“What?” Your hoarse voice asks, unnerved by this.

At the sound of your voice, John flinches forward on his boots. The nurses get shut out with beaming faces as the barrier closes with a small click of metal.

Walking to the side of your bed, John clears his throat, eyes looking you up and down in two glances. A million things are hidden in them. After an opening and closing of his mouth, which you watch closely while squinting, he speaks.

“How are we feeling, then?” You breathe slowly and in tiny puffs. John looks at the oxygen mask as if telling you to put it back on, but you refuse for a moment.

“Like shit,” you utter, voice cracking.

With a huff, John pushes away your reaching hand and gets the water himself, unscrewing it. Bringing it to your lips, you take it down as he speaks.

“Easy, Love.”

When you’d had your fill and the ache settled, you brought a hand to your head and rubbed at your injured cheek before John sighed and grabbed at it, intertwining his fingers with yours and lowering the limb back to your chest.

You stare at him, and he stares at you.

“I don’t know what to ask,” you confess.

“You don’t have to ask anything,” John mutters, and his face is tight with worry. “You’ve been in a coma for three weeks, all you need to do is ease back into it.”

Your eyes snap back.

“Tell me if it hurts,” He speaks slowly, moving on one word at a time so the realization doesn’t dwell in your brain. “I can get someone to come in, yeah?”

Your hand in his burns, and John pulls at the chair by the nightstand until he’s able to sit down in it fully with a tiny grunt.

“No,” you say, “no, it’s…I’m fine.”

Better now that you’re here, but your body is tense. Three weeks?

“Just need to take it easy,” the man states, thumb running up and down your knuckles. “You’ll be better soon.”

A dry look is sent his way, and he hides a soft quirk on his lips. “You’ll be better, Love.”

You hum, head moving back more heavily into the pillow.

“When do I get to go back?”

“When you’re healed,” he grunts. “Not a fuckin’ moment sooner.”

“We get anything on the other locations of the—”

“Hart,” you’re interrupted. Blue eyes stare at you heavily, digging past every shield you’d put up and every fear. What happened was still heavy in your mind; it pained you to imagine it, even the way John had found you—even if it was all glimpses. “Slow down. That’s not an order coming from a soldier, it’s a caution from an old friend.” John says, squeezing your flesh. His other hand comes to your shoulder, sitting there heavily.

“Breathe,” he orders, face gruff. “We always figure it out.”

You close your eyes and sigh, frowning.

A low chuckle moves along the air a second later.

“Never sit down, do you?” A flicker dances over your lips like a butterfly. “Impossible, you are.”

“You’re one to talk,” you huff, eyes shifting back to him.

He’s smiling at you, and you can’t help but mirror it right back at the sight. Your facial injury pulls and tightens, but you would welcome an ache like that for as long as it stayed. A scar born of the stretch of lips is one well-earned. Only John could ever make it a reality.

The man stares at your lips, his wide build eager to stay over you in this state. He can’t stop himself from caressing your skin; to feel you alive and breathing. Talking.

“Scared me,” John admits under his breath.

You blink, your smile fading slowly until it was like it was never there. Your body builds with guilt; also something only he could bring. “I’m sorry, John.”

A small thinning of his lips is what you get, accented by a hum.

“Hart,” he grunts. “I…”

John’s eyes closed for a moment before opening back up—spearing you with their gaze. Your tired eyes crinkle in confusion.

“What is it?” Over the tingle of your flesh from where he touches you, it isn’t hard to forget the world is around you when he’s here like this. You’re nearly trapped by his eyes, yet you welcome it eagerly. His voice moves out, accent and natural gravel, all.

“I love you.”

Your nose lets a chuff exit. Was that all?

“I love you, too, John—”

“No, Hart,” he pushes slightly harder, moving closer and licking his lips as he glances away. “No,” John looks you dead in the eye as you lay here battered and broken within an inch of your life—a risk that you took willingly as if it had meant nothing. The both of you weren’t new to this; you both knew that on any day you or he would do it over and over again until it resulted in death. That was the way of this game; this trial.

You had both always been content with that, but when had it changed?

Why was the thought of losing you more fear-invoking than anything else he’d ever encountered?

You watch him as his lips utter the words, lips close to yours and your eyes locked.

“I love you.”

Your voice is caught in your throat, stuck in the throws of a quick gasp. Not blinking, the man waits for you—waits for an answer to the earth-shattering confession. But it all came far easier than you would ever admit to anybody besides him. It was already known, after all.

All that remained was the pesky words.

“I love you, too.” You beam, words low with intimacy. “I think I always have.”

John chuckles, a large smile pushing at his reddening cheeks. “Good,” he nods, clearing his throat. “Good,” he says again. “Well, I—”

You softly connect your lips with his, and you feel him pause, breathing you down for a moment as hearts beat at the same tempo. He sighs, one hand coming up to capture your cheek, holding it there for you as you sag into it and live in this everlasting moment.

It’s there you had a revelation.

It was never Hart to him. John had never been calling you that.

He’d always just been saying Heart.

You breathe out a laugh, when you separate, beaming in a happiness you thought was long gone from you—stolen in the dark nights and sold through even darker deeds. Neither of you was worthy of this, of the love that breeds in broken things. Yet, here it is regardless. Here, among blood and the blue eyes of a man you’d known since knowing anything became important. You had always known it was John. And finally, finally, finally.

“I would marry you in an instant, John Price,” you breathe when you separate, not weak enough to stop the words from exiting from the deepest part of your soul.

His crinkled eyes watch, reverently gazing at every blemish and mark; everything he could learn new again. John’s eyes are as soft as you ever imagined them to be, and he gives them over freely to you.

He kisses you again and leaves the taste of his heavy, happy, chuckle tingling across your lips.

“Seems I’d better get on that, then.”

A/N: This fic is strangely nostalgic for me even if I just wrote it - I remember the first ever fic I posted on here was a rescue fic, as well as a John Price fic; it's amazing to see how far I've come in regards to overall content/story building and how my understanding of the character has evolved. This might not be the best work I've posted on my blog, but I'm glad to say I'm proud of myself and how far I've come. It's so wonderful that I can have this feeling for such a big moment and still feel so drawn back to the past at the same time. Totally not tearing up at the thought rn.

Thank you all very much for your support.

TAGS:

@sheviro-blog, @ivebeentrashsince2001, @mrshesh, @berryjuicyy, @romantic-homicide, @kmi-02, @neelehksttr, @littlemisstrouble, @copperchromewriting , @coelhho-brannco, @pumpkinwitchcrusade, @fictional-men-have-my-heart, @sleepyqueerenergy, @cumikering, @everything-was-dark, @marmie-noir, @anna-banana27, @iamcautiouslyoptimistic, @irenelunarsworld, @rvjaa, @sarcanti, @aeneanc, @not-so-closeted-lesbian, @mutuallimbenclosure, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @gildedpoenies, @glitterypirateduck, @writeforfandoms, @kohsk3nico, @peteymcskeet, @caramlizedtomatoes, @yoursweetobsession, @quesowakanda, @chthonian-spectre, @so-no-feint, @ray-rook, @extracrunchymilk, @doggydale, @frazie99, @develised, @1-800-no-users-left, @nuncubus, @aldis-nuts, @clear-your-mind-and-dream, @noonanaz, @cosmicpro, @stinkaton, @waves-against-a-cliff, @idocarealot

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peachsukii · 24 days ago

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✮ content. little thoughts related to this post. fem!reader. mentions of mental health struggles & blood/wound care. reader is a little mean to herself. angst w/ comfort + fluff. softie bakugo.

Lost in the nothingness inside your head, you don’t have time to react when the cup slips from your hands, crashing into the sink with a loud crack. It was an accident, but you can’t help thinking that the universe is out to get you, and somehow, that you deserved it. Your favorite mug laid in ceramic slices, shattered under the running water of the kitchen sink.

“The hell was that?” Bakugo calls from the living room while making his way to the kitchen. “Did ya—”

He stops, the look on your face sending a chill through him as you stared into the sink basin, eyes unfocused and hazy. Carefully, he approaches you and turns off the water.

“Sweets, you’re bleeding,” Bakugo says hurriedly, a hand coming to take the shard from your grasp. When did you even pick that up?

“Lemme clean you up, yeah?” It’s phrased as a question, but Bakugo won’t take no for an answer — it’s not in his vocabulary. He runs into the bathroom and back to the kitchen in the blink of an eye, first aid kit in hand. The tin bangs against the counter as he throws it open. He lets out a breath before taking your hand to examine it further.

“Doesn’t look like anythin’ is stuck in the cut. Here,” Bakugo pauses to turn the faucet on and pushes your hand under the icy stream of water. “S’gonna sting, but cold water helps numb it.”

“Might make me feel something,” you mumble monotonously. “Other than stupid for dropping the damn thing.”

“Hey.” Bakugo orders sternly, fingers instantly finding your chin to turn your gaze toward him. “None’a that. Shit happens, you didn’t break it on purpose.”

You roll your eyes at him when he lets go, unintentionally getting snippy at his words. “Sure, I’m constantly terrible at everything because shit happens. Can’t be that I’m a failure of a hero, or at everything lately.”

“Stop.” Bakugo’s hands tremble as he rummages through the first aid kit to find what he needs. He hates seeing you spiral, loathes hearing you talk so poorly about yourself during these episodes. “S’not your fa—”

“But it is my fault!” You don’t mean to interrupt him, but your emotions are getting the best of you in the moment, the pain begging to be released at any cost. “All this misery and pain is exhausting. I should’ve let the villains take—”

Bakugo unexpectedly slams the first aid kit closed and shuts you up instantly. You’re speechless, the sudden outburst shaking you out of your self pity party and shifting into concern for him.

“…Katsuki?” You ask sheepishly, knowing full well your words cut him deeper than any knife could.

“Please…stop.” He turns his back to you, a hand coming to his face to pinch the bridge of his nose. The air is heavy, the only noise being the water trickling over your wound. All he wanted to do was take care of you, fix your physical wounds in order to help heal your emotional ones. "Not sayin' ya can't be upset, just...don't say shit like that."

He’s right, you know he’s right.

“I didn’t mean it.”

“I know.” Bakugo turns back toward you, brushing his fingers over your cheek. “Don’t wanna think about you not bein’ here is all.”

Before you can stop yourself, the question spills over your lips. “But Katsuki, why are you here?”

He hesitates for a few seconds, cycling past the urge to spit back something sarcastic or harsh to such a stupid question. You think for a moment that he’s considering leaving without a word, the hurt in his eyes evident from your negative attitude.

“Do I need a reason?” He tilts his head before lowering his eyes back to your hand, gently taking it in his and flipping your palm toward him, dabbing the excess water away from the open cut. “Y’know if I didn’t wanna be somewhere that I wouldn’t bother.”

“Yeah, but—”

He holds his free hand up to interrupt you. “M’here ‘cause I happen to love your ass and don’t like seein’ ya down. I won’t leave ya when you’re strugglin’, what kind of hero would I be then?”

You don’t mean to, but scoff at the mention of being a hero. “Always gotta be the hero.”

Bakugo stops to take a deep breath before invading your space, dropping the cloth from his hand and encasing you in a hug, his dry hand pushing your cheek against his chest. “Listen, sweetheart. Fight me all ya want, but as long as my heart is beating, m’gonna be here to take care of you. Sunshine or rainstorms, good and bad times. We figure it out together. I’ll keep drillin’ it into your head until you believe me, no matter how long it takes.”

There’s no point in arguing any further or being stubborn, Bakugo always knew how to win that race. A graceful surrender is your best option. He lets out a dry huff of victory at your silence, a tiny grin plastered on his face when he pulls away from you to return to the first aid kit.

“Now lemme wrap up your damn hand before you bleed all over my kitchen, then I’ll take ya to get a new mug. Deal?”

Your lips curl into a half-smile, suddenly feeling a little lighter than earlier, even if it’s just for a moment. “Deal.”

#bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #soft bakugou #mha x reader #bnha x reader #☆.rei daydreams #☆.bkg dreamscapes

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raekensluver · 12 days ago

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nightfall temptations (introduction)

description: breaking up with your boyfriend, ethan landry, was too easy. he was too understanding, and now you're discovering why.

pairing: dark!toxic!ex!ethan landry x fem!reader

contains: 18+, Minors DNI, dark content, mentions of typical scream violence,

song rec: heathens by twenty one pilots- "you'll never know the psychopath sitting next to you. you'll never know the murderer sitting next to you."

w.c: 790+

an: i miss the magic of halloween from when i was a kid.

"come on, just one more block," you murmur to yourself as your phone buzzes for the fifth time that night. the sidewalks of new york city are eerily empty, the neon lights flickering in the quiet, casting an eerie glow on the deserted storefronts. the cold air whispers around you, carrying the distant echo of a siren and the occasional rustle of a forgotten newspaper dancing in the gutter. you fumble in your pocket, fishing out the device that's become a second source of anxiety.

the screen lights up with a familiar unknown number, the same one that's been taunting you for weeks. your gut tells you to decline the cal and maybe he'll leave you alone, but curiosity and fear compel you to swipe the screen. "hello?" you whisper, hoping that maybe, just maybe, it's a wrong number this time. instead, the all-too-familiar static fills your ear, the kind that makes your skin crawl.

a chilling voice, digitally distorted yet eerily human, echoes through the line. "hello baby," ghostface says, his tone mocking and playful. "aren't you just lovely tonight?" your heart races as your eyes dart around the empty street, searching for any sign of movement. he must be watching, but from where?

you grip the phone tighter, your knuckles white with tension. "what do you want from me?" you demand, trying to sound braver than you feel. the static hums for a moment before he speaks again. "oh, i just like to keep tabs on my favorite little scream queen," he teases, a sadistic chuckle following his words. "now tell me, what's your favorite scary movie?"

you quicken your pace, the cold wind stinging your cheeks as you struggle to maintain composure. "leave me alone," you say firmly, your voice shaking slightly. you can almost feel his presence closing in, his shadow looming somewhere in the dark alleyways. "or what?" he taunts, "you'll call the cops? they're busy with the real horrors of the city, not playing hide and seek with me."

his words hit a nerve, making you realize the futility of seeking help. your hand clutches the phone so hard you're surprised it doesn't crack. "what do you want?" you repeat, desperation seeping into your tone. the line goes silent, except for the heavy, deliberate breathing that sends chills down your spine.

you don't notice the turn you've made until it's too late. the bright lights of the main street give way to the stark darkness of an alley. your eyes strain to adjust as the buildings lean in closer, the bricks pressing down on you like a tomb. your footsteps echo off the damp walls, echoing through the narrow passage. you're no longer sure if you're moving away from safety or straight into his arms.

the alley opens up into a small, dimly lit courtyard. the moon casts a ghostly pallor over everything, making the shadows dance and twist. that's when you see him for the first time, standing in the center, his iconic ghost face mask gleaming in the moonlight. your heart leaps into your throat.

his posture is strangely familiar, the way he holds his knife at his side, casual yet threatening. something about his stance, the tilt of his head, it's all too…personal. your mind races, trying to piece together the puzzle of who's could be behind the mask. you know this character. you've heard about the killings on the news by someone in a ghostface mask and from your friends about how the 'stab' movies were based on the killings that took place almost thirty years ago. and now, you're seeing him standing in front of you. just looking at him sends a cold shiver down your spine, the kind that makes your hair stand on end.

you look like a deer caught in the headlights, frozen in terror. ghostface takes a step closer, his boots clacking on the cobblestone. "now, now, don't go anywhere," he coos, as if you had anywhere to go. your legs feel like jello, threatening to give out beneath you. "we're just getting started."

you whimper, unable to hold it in. your eyes dart around the courtyard, avoiding the cold, dead gaze of the mask. that's when you notice his shoes, a pair of worn-out sneakers with the laces undone. something about them seems…off. they don't match the rest of his outfit, which is a mix of dark clothing that blends with the shadows. the sneakers seem almost…ordinary. a strange detail in the chaos of the moment that somehow makes him more real, more terrifying.

that's when the realization hits you like a punch to the gut. you've seen those shoes before, countless times, in a place you never thought you'd associate with fear - your ex's apartment.

you swallow hard, trying to push down the bile rising in your throat as you call out, "ethan?"

edited 1.1.24

#ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #ethan kirsch #ethan kirsch x reader #jack champion #jack champion x reader #ethan landry x you #ethan landry smut #ethan landry imagine #scream x reader #scream movie #ghostface smut #scream 6 #scream vi

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whumptember · 3 months ago

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2024 Prompt List

ask box | rules | tags and posting

Main Prompts

1. "Don't leave me." chains | failed escape attempt | abandoned building

2. "I can't do this alone." dried blood | begging for help | caretaker's front door

3. "You're my last chance." rusted metal | enemies teaming up | returning home

4. "Don't make me go back." white knuckles | used as bait | ballroom

5. "You've hurt them for the last time." slamming door | rescue | whumper's basement

6. "I never want to see your face here again." torn mask | reluctant villain | hero's headquarters

7. "Let me take care of you!" damp rag | whumpee turned caretaker | bathroom

8. "You'll never see me again." packed bag | secrets revealed | doorway

9. "What did they do to you?" bloodied clothes | homecoming | hospital reunion

10. "I need your help." breaking voice | secret intentions | villain's base

11. "One last favor, then I"ll leave you alone." knife | sacrificing themself | sacred ground

12. "Why did you do it?" new gravestone | confronting whumper | cemetery

13. "I never looked back, and I regret it every day." cracked foundation | city in ruin | middle of the road

14. "You changed my life. not for the better. Now I get to return the favor." blindfold | payback | abandoned warehouse

15. "I'm never going to let you go." silk ribbon | intimate whumper | whumper's bed

16. "What happened to you?" new clothes | recapture | whumpee's old room

17. "This wasn't the deal!" torn contract | betrayed | in the middle of the woods

18. "You're never going to see them again." letter on whumpee's pillow | disappeared in the night | caretaker's apartment

19. "Take me instead!" cloth gag | caretaker turned whumpee | getaway car

20. "I'm always going to be with you." worn letter | mourning | caretaker's bed

21. "I'm not okay." bruised skin | begging for help | hero's doorstep

22. "We have to go back and save them! They'd do the same for us!" drag marks | taken hostage | battleground

23. "You're nothing without me." invisible restraints | hero whumper | basement

24. "Change my mind, tell me why I'm wrong and I'll turn back and undo everything I've done." split lip | hero in the wrong | edge of a roof

25. "Stop it! You're going to kill them!" blood spattered wall | ambush | villain's home

26. "Let them go." blindfold and gag | ransom demand | undisclosed location

27. "Don't forget about me, alright?" packed bag | leaving home | secret destination

28. "I was supposed to save the world." shackled ankles | accidental villain | jail cell

29. "You're a child, go home now and I won't come after you. But if you stay and fight, I won't hold back." hand-made mask | villain mentor | bank vault

30. "What did I say about breaking the rules?" ruler stick | young whumpee | on their knees

Alternate Prompts

1. "You lied to them." 2. Broken wrist 3. "I've done things I can't even think about anymore." 4. Whispered apology 5. "You're coming back, right?" 6. Curled into a ball 7. "You make me feel like I can forget all the bad things." 8. Chained to a car 9. "This is just the beginning." 10. Villain whumpee 11. "Oh, come on, you can take more than that!" 12. Begging 13. "Don't make me."

#whumptember2024 #prompt list #whump prompt #whump challenge #whumptember #writing challenge #writing prompts

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angellesword · 5 months ago

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Love Is Not Black and White, It's Purple (Like Your Eyes) | JJK (oneshot)

Summary: You and Jungkook are not soulmates. The fact that you have been married for ten years but still see in black and white proves that.

It is never an issue for you two until…

"Jungkook, my eyes… they're purple."

Jungkook's heart stops.

You can see colors now. It only means one thing:

You have met your real soulmate, and it's not Jungkook.

Genre & Content Warning: soulmate au, housemate au, mention of murder, past child abuse, domestic violence, fluff, crack treated seriously, attempt at humor, marriage au, established relationship, kissing, blind!jimin, fashion designer!taehyung, alcohol, cursing, HAPPY ENDING. (tags are just for formalities, but tbh this fic isn't heavy at all)

Pairing: Detective!Jungkook x Fashion Designer! Female Reader

Word Count: 7.5k

****

Out of all the suicide methods in history, Jungkook thinks that if he were to try one, it would still not be as effective as listening to you talk.

"Jungkook, my eyes...they're purple."

Really. You don't need a plastic bag, a rope, or a pillow to suffocate Jungkook. With your harsh words, Jungkook could feel the air leaving his lungs.

He can't breathe. The terrible realization asphyxiates him: you--his best friend--his wife, can now see colors. For a moment, Jungkook doesn't know what to make out of the fact that he's now alone in this monochromatic world—a place where people see in black and white until they look into their soulmates' eyes.

Jungkook has looked and drowned in your calamitous eyes before, but he never saw hues.

"Jungkook...?"

Distantly, Jungkook hears you utter his name, but all he can grasp is you will abandon him. Jungkook is rarely wrong. He's a detective, after all. One word, and he can deduce the situation, making this whole ordeal more painful.

"That's..." Jungkook intends to hide his hurt, but he feels his voice getting choked up. He has no choice but to pause.

However, you are thrilled to hear what he has to say, so Jungkook forces himself to continue.

"...great. You, that's great. So great!" Perhaps repeating the same words can convince him that his statement is true. It's not. Jungkook's heart breaks when you beam at him.

Calm down. Jungkook tells himself. But he can't. Everything hurts. His heart, his soul, his words.

"So, tell me. Where's the divorce paper? Should I sign now?" Jungkook's words hurt like a knife. They cut your heart into pieces.

"What the fuck are you talking about." Your face falls. "Shitty Jungkook, are you kidding me right now!? I'm not leaving you for someone I just met!"

Now, something about your reaction takes Jungkook's breath away. Maybe it's the anger that quickly turns into panic as you take in Jungkook's words. Or perhaps it's the apparent trembling of your lips as you desperately speak of your promise of forever. Either way, your fear-inducing expression somehow reassures Jungkook.

You and him are not over. Not yet, at least.

"I'm just kidding~." Jungkook chuckles and clicks his tongue, "Of course, you're not leaving me. I'm the only one who can tolerate you, ya know?"

The joke doesn't lighten your expression at all.

"Jungkook, I'm not leaving you," you repeat. The assurance is softer this time, and despite the lack of color in your eyes, the detective can see determination in them.

Jungkook puffs out air. His heart aching a little less.

"I know, darling." Jungkook stops his jokes. He engulfs you in a warm embrace. "I'm sorry."

"Don't say that ever again." You wrap your arms around Jungkook's waist. "You're my best friend. I love you, alright?"

****

10 Years Ago; 2013

Unlike others, your relationship with Jungkook is reversed.

"Let's get married."

"The fuck?" You choke on your water the second Jungkook opens his mouth. "Are you high again, bastard!?"

You punch Jungkook mildly. The latter moves away, exaggeratedly cradling his jaw. "Ow! Why are you always so violent? Can't you hear me out first? I'm being serious here!"

"Serious?" You laugh incredulously. "You just asked me to get married!"

"Exactly!" Jungkook ignores the painful thug in his heart. "It's for our benefit. Didn't you say you want to live in PM Village?"

Apartments in PM Village are too damn expensive. You and Jungkook recently finished college; your individual income is not enough to cover the monthly amortization of a house, but it's different if your incomes are combined.

"You're crazy. We can't marry because of a fucking house, Jungkook!" You are still not convinced.

"Why not?" But Jungkook intends to change your mind. "We're both single, and divorce won't be difficult in the future. We can just tell the court we've found our real soulmates. Besides,"

The newbie detective drags his words, knowing that he'll be able to convince you in the end, anyway. "You're gonna be rich soon. You don't have any living family members anymore. Do you really wanna give away all your money to the government when you die?"

"Why? Is giving my money to you any better!?"

"I can at least maintain your wine cellar," Jungkook shrugs. "And just think about the tax benefits! Don’t you hate Hoseok-hyung for siphoning your money?”

You open your mouth to speak, but damn. Jungkook’s last statement has convinced you already. Nose flaring, you say, "Fine!"

It's like music to Jungkook's ears. "I need your full confirmation."

Jungkook really wants you to say it. You fold your arms across your chest, "Fine, Bastard! I agree with your absurd proposition. Let's get fucking married."

At the age of twenty-two, you and Jungkook tied the knot. Ten years later, most of Jungkook's predictions have come true: you two have settled in PM Village—a warm home with a wine cellar awaits you after a tiring day. You have also become so rich that you often have issues with Jung Hoseok, your country's tax agency commissioner. Thank fuck there are good lawyers out there to clear your tax cases.

You clearly have everything life can offer. If you want, you can divorce Jungkook now, but ten years later, you are still very much committed to your best friend.

*****

Present; 2023

You insist on telling Jungkook who your soulmate is. Admittedly, you can tell that Jungkook finds the whole storytelling unnecessary. You are married, but it's not as if you two are in love with each other or something. Nope. Jungkook only sees you as an annoying woman with whom he cohabitates.

"So, has Technology asked you on a date yet?" Jungkook asks without looking at you. He's busy filing his nails, acting as if shaping his nails into perfect ovals is more important than conversing with you.

"First of all, his name is Taehyung. Not Technology, you asshole. And no, he hasn't asked me out." You exhale. "I mean, not yet. It's not a big deal, honestly. We just met yesterday."

Translation: give my soulmate some time.

"Right." Jungkook mocks and yawns, finally glancing at you. "You know, if I meet my soulmate, I’ll immediately ask them out. I can’t waste time.”

"Oh, shut up." You roll your eyes. "We both know you just can't wait to sleep with them."

"He-He. You caught me~." Jungkook half-smiles before returning to the previous topic very smoothly, "So you're saying that if Techno—Taehyung asks you on a date, you'll say yes?"

"Will you mind if I do?" You sound nervous.

The sole purpose of this conversation is for you to test the waters with Jungkook. You both went on dates in the past after ensuring that the other was comfortable with the set-up. You are married, after all. It won't bode well with the both of you if cheating rumors erupt, especially in your respective workplaces.

Admittedly, it has been long since you two last went on dates. You were both busy with your jobs. Besides, isn't it exhausting getting to know strangers? Jungkook doesn't want to waste his breath on nosy people asking why he chose to be a detective, and you would rather ditch your date than deal with them bargaining for discounts once they find out you’re a prominent fashion designer.

Going out with strangers has become a nightmare instead of a fun way to meet your real soulmate. Because of this, you and Jungkook decided to just take each other out whenever you wanted. It's not exactly a romantic date. Sure, there's darling as a pet name, kisses under the moonlight, and wrestling who'll pay. But that's about it. You don't dare to do more.

Your partnership is of greater importance than sex and in-the-moment confessions. You don't want to regret it comes morning.

"Why would I mind?" Jungkook finally answers, feigning happiness. "I'll personally thank your soulmate for taking you out, honestly. I'm tired of you forcing me to take you out on dates. It's about time I meet new people, too."

"Right." You swallow your disappointment and the faint ache in your chest. "Who wants to go out with a shitty bastard like you, anyway? Go meet others! It's not like I care!"

Another fake smile blooms on Jungkook's face.

"Whatever you say."

*****

Kim Taehyung is the name of your soulmate, and the man Jungwon has been investigating for the past three days.

"Jungkook sunbaenim, here's all the information I can find about Kim Taehyung." Jungwon stifles a yawn as he approaches his mentor's table. He almost winces upon seeing Jungkook's monitor.

The older detective has many tabs on his computer, all related to Kim Taehyung.

"You're still investigating him?" Jungwon can't mask his surprise. "Jungkook sunbaenim, just what did Kim Taehyung do!?"

"He's a thief, Jungwon-ah." Jungkook accepts the files from his mentee without sparing him a glance

Jungwon dramatically gasps, his sleepiness fading away because of the scandalous information.

"Really? What did he steal?"

"A precious little thing." Jungkook is viewing Kim Taehyung's baby photos. No one knows how he found them. "Look, he's not that cute, right?"

Jungwon doesn't answer, lost in thought. What could Kim Taehyung have stolen? His Jungkook sunbaenim said a precious little thing. Could it be a diamond ring? Or...

"Tanzanite?" Jungwon shrieks. "Did he steal tanzanite, Jungkook sunbaenim!?"

"Huh?" Jungkook turns to his mentee with a furrowed brow. He suddenly remembers what he said to Jungwon, and being a good actor whose words consist of 10% truth and 90% lies, Jungkook can save himself by saying, "Yeah. He stole tanzanite —authorities said it was very expensive. Come, Jungwon-ah. Let's catch this thief."

****

You aren't lying when you say you won't divorce Jungkook because you 'met' your soulmate. No, your partnership is beyond colors. However, it also doesn't mean you’ll relinquish your connection with your soulmate.

The deal is this: You and Jungkook will stay together until you know your soulmates better. After that, you two can decide what to do next. In short, a simple meeting doesn't guarantee you would want to spend your entire life with your soulmates. You both have heard many stories before that not even real soulmates find romantic love with each other—some remain platonic soulmates, while others go as far as killing each other.

You and Taehyung's case seems to fall to the normal expectation of society: meet as strangers, get to know each other until you become friends, then fall in love and get married.

Unlike Jungkook pulling you in a reverse direction, Taehyung intends to drive you on the right path.

"Jungkook sunbaenim, aren't we breaking the protocol?" Jungwon covers his face with a newspaper, whispering softly in case the suspect hears him. They are currently inside a small coffee shop near Aurora Fashion Lane. Based on Jungwon's investigation, Kim Taehyung works as a designer for the company in the same building as this coffee shop. In fact, Taehyung is slowly becoming a regular customer here.

"Shouldn't we call for backup?"

Jungkook ignores the younger detective. He squints his eyes hard, focusing on the table near the counter. Jungwon discreetly looks in the direction Jungkook has his eyes on. A woman with a similar haircut as yours is sitting there.

"Jungkook sunbaenim, isn't that your wife—"

"Ssshh, Jungwon-ah. Shut up for a moment. I can't hear them." Jungkook regrets not choosing a table near you and your date. Damn it. You probably won't realize he's here—not when your attention is focused on stupid Technology!

"Stay here. I'll be back." The older detective stands up abruptly. Right. If he pretends to look at the menu before ordering something, he can hear whatever you and Taehyung are talking about:

"Exactly. They should've added another layer of lace. It pairs well with jacquard." Jungkook hears you say.

What the heck are they talking about? The detective muses.

"Ah, unfortunately, the customer hates laces. Apparently, her father made her wear laces that itch." Taehyung responds.

"Poor Elise. I understand why she prefers satin dresses."

Are they talking about work? Jungkook thinks to himself again. He only snaps back to reality when the cashier smiles, asking if he's ready to order.

Jungkook orders drinks for him and Jungwon before moving closer to the soulmates' table. You and Taehyung have stopped talking, though. Confused, Jungkook tilts his head to check what's happening, but someone seizes his wrist.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Jungkook hears a classic greeting, yet he still freezes. Only one person gets angry seeing him.

"Oh, hi, you~. I didn't see you there." The detective beams while prying his hand away from your iron-like grip. "What a coincidence!"

"Coincidence, my ass!" You grit your teeth, "Tell me the truth. Why are you here?"

Jungkook tongues the inside of his cheek, thinking of a way to translate, 'You were smiling through your phone yesterday while texting your stupid soulmate. I didn't want to invade your privacy, so I hacked his messages instead,' into something that won't ignite your anger.

In the end, Jungkook manages to simply say, "Why? Can't a detective have his coffee?"

"Jungkook." you utter sternly, "This coffee shop is an hour and a half from your workplace. You also don't drink coffee."

As if on cue, the barista says Jungkook's drinks are ready. The detective picks up his drink and sips it. "What was that? I can't hear you over my delicious caramel macchiato with whipped cream and seven pumps of caramel sauce, topped with small marshmallows, chocolate chips, and sprinkles!"

"For fuck's sake!" You let out a torrent of abuse, your face morphing into disgust. Seeing color intensifies your emotions. The colorful toppings in Jungkook's drink make you want to vomit. "Get your ass out of here, you tasteless bastard!"

Jungkook doesn't budge. He shoots you an innocent look, "Why are you shooing me away? Am I disturbing you and your date? Where is he, by the way?"

Taehyung went to the comfort room, but this was not the point. You hiss, "I'm not on a date. Taehyung and I are discussing work over coffee. How the heck did you even know we're here?"

Another question Jungkook doesn't have a ready answer. Fortunately for him, Taehyung is back. Your furious expression melts at once. Your fake personality makes Jungkook gag.

"Hey, should we head back?" Taehyung's voice is deep. This is the first thing Jungkook notices.

"Yeah, let's go." You smile at your soulmate.

Another thing Jungkook notices is how handsy Taehyung is. He touches the small of your back, leading you to the exit. Jungkook's expression darkens, and Jungwon, watching the whole exchange like a hawk, suddenly decides to act.

"Stop, you thief! Leave my mentor's wife alone!" Jungwon has the handcuffs ready. He's rushing in Taehyung's direction. Jungkook's eyes widen, only relying on his fast reflexes to stop his mentee.

He trips Jungwon, causing the younger detective to fall to the ground.

"Jungkook, you bastard--!!"

All hell breaks loose after that scream coming out of you.

****

'Disaster' is the only word to describe Jungkook's attempt to stalk his wife. He didn't plan for things to escalate to the level where he had to trip Jungwon to stop him from arresting an innocent citizen like Taehyung. You got so mad that the older detective had to apologize, making an excuse that they were detectives on a mission gone wrong. Jungkook remembers smiling apologetically at Taehyung, telling him to cut Jungwon some slack because he is a newbie detective.

You knew everything leaving Jungkook's mouth was bullshit, yet you played along with Jungkook's excuse. You clearly don’t want the issue to escalate further. Thankfully, Taehyung is an understanding man, telling Jungwon to be careful next time. You aren't as forgiving as your soulmate, though. You called Jungkook over the phone, yelling you'd kill him if he went home tonight.

Jungkook has no choice but to seek shelter at Namjoon’s house.

"Let me guess," Namjoon sighs upon seeing Jungkook at his doorstep. "You've angered your wife again, didn't you?"

"Namjoon-hyung! That's a mean guess. Can't I visit my friend?"

Namjoon remains expressionless. "You only go here whenever you and your wife fight. Your wife will think I betrayed her if I let you in."

Jungkook hmphed. "My wife already has beef with your soulmate and, by extension, with you too. So just let me in, will you?"

Namjoon releases a breath when Jungkook pushes the door open and rushes in. He is right, anyway. You have beef with his soulmate. Namjoon always receives texts from you complaining about Hoseok and how ruthless he is as a government employee.

"Would you like something to drink—" Namjoon cuts himself off upon seeing Jungkook helping himself with a bottle of soju.

The detective takes large gulps. He finishes half of the bottle in less than two minutes. Jungkook hiccups and clumsily wipes his mouth, "My wife found her soulmate. She can see colors now."

Namjoon stops in his tracks.

Jungkook laughs, mocking himself. "His eyes are purple, hyung."

"Jungkook..." Namjoon sounds apologetic.

"What's with your expression?" Jungkook’s lips twist. "You look sorry. Don't be. I'm—"

Happy for her? Jungkook shakes his head. It seems like that's not the case. Namjoon thinks so, too. He sits in front of the detective.

"You're what, Jungkook-ah?" The older man opens a beer bottle for himself, "What do you feel for your wife? What does she make you feel?"

Silence creeps into the room.

Jungkook's shoulders drop. Memories from the past play in his head as he closes his eyes.

Twenty-one years ago, 2002:

11-year-old Jungkook is freezing cold.

He is out in the snow, trying to take a sneak peek at children his age playing on the school grounds. Unlike him, the students are covered with expensive coats, mittens, and a hat. Jungkook's mother is a janitress at a private elementary school in Busan. Sadly, she can't afford to send her son to this school, so Jungkook can only watch the other kids in envy.

The children here have winter camps and activities to support their growth. Today, Jungkook watches as the students make mittens. Some children give the handmade gloves to their family, friends, or teachers.

Only one girl saves her mittens for a lone stranger.

"Here," Jungkook is taken aback when a girl his age suddenly approaches him. She’s shorter than Jungkook, but her determined eyes make people think she has much to offer.

"I said here!" Jungkook remains unmoving, so the girl pushes the mittens to his chest. "I can't see it yet, but my mum said the gloves are gray like my eyes! I made them myself."

The little girl looks proud; a huge grin is on her lips.

Jungkook blinks dumbly at her, "Why...." He takes in a deep breath, clutching the warm gloves to his chest. "Why are you giving me these gloves?"

The little girl looks confused; she even lets out a small huh. Jungkook thinks the girl didn't hear him, so he repeats his words.

You are that little girl. You shrug your shoulders. "Because I want to. You look cold. I don't want to see you cold."

"But," Jungkook's lips tremble. He is having a hard time accepting the gift. "I have nothing to trade you with."

"Who cares?" You sit beside him. "I don't want anything. I just want to be friends."

Present; 2023:

Until now, Jungkook has no idea why you wish to be friends with someone like him. Clearly, you were a world apart. It was winter then. Maybe it was a Winter miracle—if this is even a thing.

But Jungkook is sure of one thing:

"She makes me feel warm, Namjoon-hyung." The detective finally answers his friend's question earlier. "My wife makes me warm, loved, and hopeful."

****

You receive a text message from Namjoon asking you to pick up a hammered Jungkook.

"Hey, you're leaving already?" Taehyung sees you leaving the office.

You rub the back of your neck and smile softly at Taehyung, "Yes. I have to pick up my husband."

"Ah." Taehyung nods, "Jungkook, isn't it? The detective from earlier?"

"Mn. I'm really sorry about what happened."

"It's nothing," Taehyung assures. It will probably take him a long time to forget his encounter with those two strange detectives, but it's not so bad. They apologized and said it was an honest mistake. He motions toward the door, "You brought your car, right? Let’s go down together.”

“You’re going home too?”

“Not yet.” Taehyung opens the office door for his soulmate. “Just gonna get coffee.”

Taehyung’s obsession with caffeine doesn’t go unnoticed by you. Taehyung joined your team only this week but has probably gone to the coffee shop downstairs more than your team did.

You brush it off. It’s none of your business. What matters to you is what Jungkook drinks. After bidding Taehyung goodbye, you immediately rush to Namjoon’s house. He is absolutely right. Jungkook is wasted.

"Why did you let this asshole drink so much!?" You bare your teeth at Namjoon. "You know how he is, Namjoon! Did he even eat before chugging down soju? Soju! You made him drink soju!? Namjoon, you golden-eyed clumsy bastard! Your eye color looks like horse piss!"

You are getting creative with your insults now that you can see colors. Namjoon shakes his head. He likes you better when you still see in black and white; at least then, you don’t go around terrorizing people and their eye color.

"I'm sorry. He forced himself into my home." Namjoon throws Jungkook under the bus. He'd rather get a playfully upset Jungkook than a screaming girl like you.

You know better than to put all the blame on Namjoon, though. You know Jungkook drank himself stupid because he can't handle it when you are genuinely mad at him.

You swallow your fury, "You know what? Just…have a good night, Namjoon-oppa. I'm sorry for shouting and the trouble. I'll make it up to you some other time."

You drag Jungkook to your car.

The detective is no fun when drunk. He just passes out. You can't even get blackmail material out of this hell.

"Fucking finally." You cover your husband with a blanket after cleaning him up and changing his clothes into new ones.

"Bastard." You sneer but still end up softly kissing Jungkook's forehead.

Ah. The things you do for love.

****

Jungkook wakes up with a stomachache and a sweaty forehead. He dramatically whines, cradling his stomach like he has been shot there.

Thankfully, you show up at once. You are carrying a tray with a full meal.

"My stomach hurts." He complains, earning an eye roll from you.

"Of course it does. You fucking drank alcohol on an empty stomach. You also had that stupid drink at the coffee shop. Just what the hell are you thinking?"

You sit on the bed. You first brush your husband's fringe with your fingers, then cup his cheeks and casually wipe the side of his mouth.

"Here, eat something."

Jungkook doesn't need to tell you to feed him. You bring a spoonful of food to his mouth, gently urging him to eat.

The detective moans. Your food tastes like heaven, even better than those Michelin restaurants. "My wife is such a great cook. Thank you~~"

"Whatever. Just don't moan, bastard." You can feel your cheeks turning hot. You easily get flustered with compliments.

Jungkook suddenly wonders if Taehyung has said something to make you blush, too.

"Oi, Jungkook. Don't tell me you don't have an appetite anymore. You barely ate!"

It's not like the detective doesn't want to eat anymore. His mood only plummets when he thinks about your soulmate.

Jungkook utters your name softly and asks, "Are you happy?"

"What kind of question is that?" You scrunch your nose, but you still answer. "Of course I'm happy." I have you in my life.

"No. I mean, are you happy you can see colors now?"

"I'm happier." You are surprised at how quickly you answered. Maybe because it's never hard for you to tell the truth. But still...you don't want to sound insensitive. You know your husband has yet to see colors.

You try again, "I mean...seeing colors makes my job easier, and I’m not just saying this because I'm getting promoted soon." People in their world have a greater chance of success once they see colors.

"I guess I appreciate my job even more. It makes me feel alive, if you will. Things seem "livelier..."

You look into Jungkook's brown eyes. You can see them sparkling. For the first time in twenty-plus years you have known Jungkook, this is the only time you have seen how pink his lips are.

You can feel your heart thumping.

Looking at Jungkook with colors makes you feel "More." You whisper, "I feel things more with colors, Jungkook."

More love.

More joy.

And more clarity about what you really feel about your best friend.

"That's good, then." Jungkook rests his head on your shoulders. "I'm glad you're happy."

He really is. If he can go back to last night, Jungkook won't hesitate to tell Namjoon that, even though it hurts him, he's glad you met the one fated to you.

*****

Months pass, and things get even better for you. You got promoted twice and now handle one of your company's major customers. Your wallet gets fatter—so shouting at Namjoon to tell Hoseok to calm down doesn’t work anymore. Your free time is almost non-existent, though. It makes Jungkook sigh.

“Hey, Jungkook. You’re free to go.” Jungkook’s mood soars when his partner at work approaches him.

“Seokjin-hyung!” Jungkook’s jaw drops to the floor. “Did I hear you right? Are you seriously allowing me to get off work an hour earlier!?”

Seokjin is a hardworking detective who does not joke around since he knows his job affects the public's general welfare. Still, he also knows that you and Jungkook are celebrating your anniversary as a married couple for ten years.

“Just go, Jungkook-ah.” Seokjin pushes him. “Just leave before I change my mind. And for heaven’s sake, get your wife anything but flowers. No one wants to see you sneezing all day. Keep your snots away--!!”

Jungkook walks faster, not wanting to hear his work partner complain. So what if he sneezes all day? So what if he’s allergic to flowers? You love flowers, so he’ll get you bouquets.

Humming, Jungkook makes his way to the flower shop. The snowflakes fall lightly. It’s winter. Jungkook met you in the winter of 2002. You also got married in winter, the year 2013. Other people don’t like this season, especially Hoseok, who watched Namjoon suffer a fall accident because of slippery ground three years ago. Thank goodness Namjoon is okay now.

Jungkook buys flowers and your favorite wine. He’s almost home when a ghost from the past blocks his way.

“Oh, if it isn’t the beloved scoundrel of my bitch of a soulmate.”

Jungkook stiffens, eyes turning dark as he takes in the lone figure of his father.

“Jeon Sungmin.” Jungkook’s tone is scathing.

“The one and only.” Sungmin juts his chin. “Did you miss me, son?”

“Don’t call me that.” Jungkook clenches his fist. Unadulterated anger fills his heart. He’s trying hard not to punch this pathetic man. “In case you forgot, I still have a restraining order against you. I can even arrest you myself.”

Sungmin lets out a sardonic laugh. It’s loud—the kind of laughter that makes Jungkook’s skin itch. He can’t see colors but could’ve sworn he sees blood. Maybe he just wants to claim blood.

“Don’t act so tough on me, boy. In case you forgot, you just stood like a dumb bastard when I killed your bitch of a mom.”

“Stop.” Jungkook chokes, feeling a lump forming in his throat. He can’t breathe. Memories have come to haunt him.

“Scared, aren’t we?” Sungmin drags his limping feet to Jungkook. Twenty years in prison broke his body but not his soul. Even with only his tattered clothes and one functioning eye, Sungmin can still bring terror to his son.

“You should be. You’re nothing but a pathetic scourge.” Sungmin pulls Jungkook’s collar, slamming him into a cold wall. “Now be of use and give me money.”

Jungkook doesn’t move. His eyes droop, wanting to puke as he feels his father stealing his wallet. He hears screams inside his head, the pleas of his mother. Jungkook-ah, run. Please. You have to save yourself.

Jungkook remains rooted in his spot back then, just hollowly looking at the blood on the floor. He watched as Sungmin smashed the baseball bat into his mother’s head.

More screams. Sungmin didn’t stop the beating until the police officers came.

Twenty years later, Jungkook is still the same. He still can’t stand up for himself. He watches his father take his wine and wallet, leaving like nothing happened.

Jungkook doesn’t know how he manages to walk back home. He stays outside, ruined flowers in his lap. He cannot get in as his keys are inside his stolen wallet.

Jungkook could only wait for a purple-eyed girl whose eyes he thought were gray.

****

Like Jungkook, you get off work early as well. Your secretary runs after you, saying that you can’t leave yet. However, you dismissed the secretary and passed the work on to Yeonjun instead. You hate that you are not home yet. You are actually supposed to take the day off to plan your anniversary date with your husband better.

It’s your 10th anniversary, after all. You are thinking of cooking Jungkook’s favorite food and giving him a…body massage. Many things are running into your mind—you can’t wait to try them all with your husband. Too bad work is holding you back.

“Sunbaenim, what do you think about this color combination? Is the shade of blue too dark for this winter’s theme?” Yeji excitedly shows off her design.

You rub your neck roughly, stopping yourself from throwing profanities. Calm down. Yeji is a hardworking designer who only wants the best for the team.

“I’m thinking of using an aqua frost instead. One shoulder sleeve should do the trick if—”

Oh my God. ‘Someone, please kill me now.’ You scream internally.

“Yeji,” you press your lips into a thin line. “I actually can’t entertain you right now. Would you mind checking in with Taehyung instead?”

Yeji’s shoulders drop. “Ah, Taehyung-sunbaenim isn’t here at the moment.”

“What do you mean he’s not here?” You feel your head pulsating. “Where is he?”

Everyone is so busy. Taehyung can’t possibly skip work, right?

“He’s at the coffee shop downstairs.”

That son of a--!!

You stand up abruptly. Taehyung’s coffee break ended an hour ago! How can he still be at the coffee shop!? You are seething in anger. You know Taehyung is your soulmate, but you can’t just connect to him. The first few months are okay. However, you soon realize how incompatible you and Taehyung are. Your connection starts with colors, and it also ends there. Nothing more, nothing less.

“I’m going to call him.” You exit, ignoring Yeji’s call. Honestly, what you said is half lie and half-truth. You just really, really want to leave the office. It’s a pure happenstance to bump into Taehyung in the elevator.

“Hey.” He calls your name. Remnants of joy are still visible on Taehyung’s face. Two coffee holders are in his hands—he got the whole team some drinks. “I got coffee. Where’re you going?”

“Home.” You press the elevator button. “It’s my husband and I’s anniversary.”

“Ah.” Taehyung nods in understanding. He never once shows any sign of disappointment over his soulmate spending time with another person. “Didn’t you say Detective Jeon likes eating sweets? Jimin-hyung baked a chocolate cake today. Will you accept it as my anniversary gift for you two?”

You pause. It’s like your brain short-circuits upon noticing Taehyung’s expression when he utters Jimin’s name.

Jimin—the barista and baker at the coffee shop where Taehyung frequents.

“Taehyung,” your heart stutters. “D-Do you remember your first day in the office?”

“Of course.” Taehyung offers a small smile. “It’s hard to forget that day, don’t you think? We both saw colors for the first time.”

You blink at him, not saying anything.

Taehyung avoids eye contact, thinking he’s not smart enough to understand what you implied. He tries to remember every detail of that day.

“I think I came to the office ten minutes earlier. I got everyone coffee. Come to think of it, Jimin-hyung actually saved me that day. He knows everyone’s order—Hey, are you alright?”

“You…” You gasp. “You met with Jimin before seeing me at the office, right?”

“Yes?” Taehyung’s hands are getting clammy for grasping the coffee holders. It doesn’t help that you are acting weird, making him more anxious.

“Taehyung, I think there’s been a glitch.”

Yeji goes after you a few minutes later. Both of you and Jimin are taking too long. Luckily, she instantly spots you at the elevator door. You look agitated, while Taehyung seems dumbfounded.

“Sunbaenim!” Yeji tries to stop you two, but you and Taehyung have already gotten inside the lift.

“Yeji, there you are.” Taehyung passes the coffee holders to Yeji. “Drink this with the others. We’ll be taking another break. See you later.”

“Wait—!!”

The elevator door closes.

Yeji whines, “I still have to show you my designs….”

****

You rush home, excited to see your husband. However, your excitement quickly turns into horror when you spot Jungkook sitting on your porch.

“Jungkook!?” Your eyes dilate. Jungkook is staring into nothingness. You are familiar with this kind of expression, the kind where you are forced to swallow your insults because you know.

You know something terrible happened to your husband.

You quickly open the door and pull Jungkook to his feet. The detective is still unresponsive, letting you drag him into the bathroom. You did all the work; you immediately opened the heater and got warm clothes.

“Kook,” you call softly, cradling Jungkook’s hands to blow on them. “ Can you lift your arms for me? Let’s get you changed, alright?”

Jungkook doesn’t answer but does what he’s told. You are shaking as you help your husband change. You want to give the detective warm water and candies, but Jungkook still looks shaken. You can only gently drag him to bed. You lay down beside Jungkook, hugging him close to your chest.

You didn’t ask any questions, allowing Jungkook to breathe first.

“I--” Jungkook hiccups, sounding broken. He weakly grips the hem of your shirt.

“I’m here, Darling.” You kiss your husband’s forehead. You hug him even tighter, wishing to melt your body and bones and offer all your warmth and love to Jungkook.

Jungkook calls your name, his voice almost sounding like a wounded animal.

You caress your partner’s cheeks. They’re wet. It takes everything in you to pick up the pieces of your broken heart. No. You can’t fall apart now. Jungkook needs you.

“Mn. I’m here. You can tell me what you want.”

“N-No.” Jungkook whimpers, “I don’t want anything. I—I don’t deserve anything.”

“Jungkook.” You break the hug and force Jungkook to sit up on the bed. He’s warm enough. He’ll live.

The detective cast his gaze down, though—an indication he doesn’t want to hear whatever you have to say.

It pisses you off.

“Jungkook. Look at me.” You demand sternly. But Jungkook shakes his head.

“No, you’re mad at me.”

“Heck yeah, I’m mad. I’m so mad I can punch your face right now.” You have been patient with him, believing he’s vulnerable and in need of space. But your heart is only soft for a sad Jungkook, not for a Jungkook who blabs stupid things.

Jungkook balls his hands into fists, “You don’t understand. It’s so noisy in here.” He points at his head, “They won’t shut up. I’m—he….”

Jungkook gasps for air. You panic. You rub Jungkook’s back.

“Jungkook,” the saddest thing in this world is not seeing colors; it’s watching your beloved deal with the pain while you sit there pathetically, unable to take even a fraction of his hurt.

What good is a soulmate when all it can bring is color? Why can’t you take away Jungkook’s pain?

“He’s back, my father is out of jail.” Jungkook grips the bedsheet, “He’s come back for me. He hurt her before. He always takes away the people I love.”

Trauma is a part of Jungkook; napping silently and with one wrong shake, it’ll wake up and wreak havoc.

“You should run. Leave me. I don’t have a use to you, anyway—”

“Hush,” you can’t bear to listen anymore. You pull Jungkook to your chest, but the detective struggles.

“Please. You have to listen to me! Just leave! We’re not soulmates. I don’t understand why you’re still here!" Jungkook pushes your chest, but you catch his hands, burying Jungkook’s face into your neck.

“Oh, ma moitié.” The French endearment sounds easy coming out of your mouth. Jungkook melts at once. He sobs against your skin.

Ma moitié translates to my other half.

Jungkook wants to curse this unfair world. That’s right. How can you and him not be each other’s other half? It’s difficult to fight for you when fate is against you two. Sometimes Jungkook feels like no one has the right to tear you apart, mainly because you two paint each other's life—not with colors but with love. You and Jungkook are soulmates by heart. Many people call you twin black. The monochromatic world doesn't rob the two of you of happiness, love, and care. It takes one Jeon Jungkook to know that you like drinking cold water, not just 'cold water.' It has to be a certain degree of coldness:

If the water sits in the refrigerator for two hours, that's not cold enough. If it's water coming from a semi-solid ice cube, then that's too cold.

You are fussy, but you give your effort to Jungkook similarly. Whenever you pick Jungkook up from work, you never fail to put your expensive leather jacket on the passenger seat, so Jungkook wouldn't have to deal with a burning hot seat. You don’t mind being stuck in the traffic and driving for hours to pick him up at work every day.

“Why can’t you be mine?” Jungkook doesn’t have the energy to push you away. His hatred is directed toward fate, himself, and his deranged father. Why are they against you and him being together?

“But I’m already yours, Kook.” You lick Jungkook’s tears and kiss his eyes. “Everything about me belongs to you. This,”

You guide Jungkook’s hands to your eyes, lips, and neck, then lower Jungkook’s hands to your heart. You let the detective feel your beating heart.

“You hear that, Kook?” Your eyes well up with tears. “That’s my heart telling you something.”

Goosebumps prick at Jungkook’s skin.

You do not break eye contact. “I love you, Jungkook.”

You have said those words countless times before, but it doesn’t fail to take Jungkook’s breath away—especially now that the I love you is said so softly…so romantically.

“You’re my soulmate, Jungkook.”

Jungkook flinches, shaking his head rapidly.

“T-That can’t be. You…you see colors. I don’t. We’re—we’re….”

Why are you lying? Why are you giving Jungkook false hope? It’s cruel.

But you are insistent.

“Jungkook,” you kiss him. “Stop thinking for a while, yeah? Focus on me. Focus on my heart. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Jungkook answers against your lips. He never responded before, simply allowing and relishing the taste of your sweet lips.

“I love you so much,” Jungkook repeats, groaning and biting your lips until it draws blood. Jungkook had never allowed himself to possess before, scared that he would end up ruining what he loved. But today is different. You are addicting. Claiming he loves you gives him so much power--

He pushes you to bed, pressing himself on top of you.

Jungkook kisses you. “I love you. I love you. I really, really love you.”

--so much happiness.

“I love you.”

--so much color.

Jungkook stops kissing you; his head spins.

--so much color.

Color.

The monochromatic world is slowly changing.

Color.

More colors.

Jungkook’s eyes grow wide.

He looks at you under him.

He gasps and calls your name. Your name sounds like a prayer coming out of Jungkook’s mouth.

“Your eyes…they’re purple.”

You chuckle under him. You wipe Jungkook’s tears.

“Took you long enough to realize, Kook.”

Jungkook laughs hysterically. He stares into your eyes again, ensuring he’s not dreaming or going crazing.

Your eyes are really purple—not gray.

At this very moment, Jungkook realizes something: out of all the suicide methods in history, Jungkook thinks that if he were to try one, it still wouldn’t work because seeing the purple in your eyes will bring him back to life.

Really. No amount of oxygen can compare to the image of you lying on your bed, purple eyes glistening as you whisper sweet nothings to your soulmate. With that, Jungkook feels he can finally breathe.

****

Meanwhile, on Aurora Fashion Lane, Taehyung runs toward the coffee shop. The conversation he had with you at the elevator rings inside his mind.

There has been a glitch.

That’s right. Taehyung remembers that day like the back of his hand.

It’s 6:23am. He went to a coffee shop looking so composed, but he’s actually very nervous. However, the presence of the barista calms him down.

“You’re new here, aren’t you?” Jimin, the barista, asks. A soft smile adores his pretty face.

Taehyung feels his heart skipping a beat. He licks his lips, “You can tell?”

“You smell different.”

“Really.” Taehyung feels blood rushing to his face.

Jimin laughs. “Don’t be conscious. I said you smell different, not bad. I can tell because I’m blind. My other senses are heightened because of it.”

“Ah.” Taehyung is fascinated. Jimin prepares coffee like a pro. He won’t know Jimin can’t see if he didn’t say it.

“This one is for your head designer; she likes her coffee with some liquor. I sneak some little candies onto her tray so she can bring them home to Detective Jeon, her husband.” Jimin pushes a coffee cup to Taehyung.

“This one is for Yeji. She prefers iced coffee even when it’s freezing cold. This one is for Ji-Eun. She likes tea and not coffee. Yeonjun never changes his order. It’s always two shots of espresso. Jake drinks anything, as long as it’s not too bitter. And this,”

Jimin smiles, “Is for you. A bulgogi sandwich and iced latte. The sandwich is not spicy, so you don’t need to worry. Have a good day.”

Taehyung feels like floating in the air when he goes to work. He first sees you at the door, looking so pensive early in the morning.

You are thinking about your husband. His birthday is coming soon. You want to give him something precious.

A wristwatch? Nah. That’s too simple.

A perfume? Nope. You prefer it when he smells like you.

What about a picnic date near the sea? You can arrange for a firework display and…

Confess.

You flinch at your own thought.

Confess.

You want to confess to Jungkook because---

--you love him.

“Good morning.” Taehyung greets.

You are startled. You snap your head up to meet Taehyung’s face.

All of a sudden, a splash of colors welcomes you.

You see colors, and so does Taehyung.

“So yeah, I think there’s been a glitch.” Taehyung tries to explain to an expressionless Jimin. He swallows when the barista doesn’t answer.

Taehyung releases a deep sigh. Right. He probably sounds crazy right now. It’s not cool to suddenly barge at someone’s work and announce that you think the barista is your soulmate.

Taehyung scolds himself. He’s about to apologize and tell Jimin to ignore what he said when—

“I know,” Jimin responds.

Taehyung blinks up at him dumbly.

Jimin’s lips twist, “Didn’t I tell you I’m blind?”

What’s his blindness got to do with anything? Taehyung still likes him.

“Taehyung, I’m blind.” He repeats. “I’ve been blind since I was born. When I dream, I don’t dream visually, but.”

There’s a sudden pause. Jimin looks lost in thought.

He continues after a while, “The night before I met you, I dreamt of you. I saw a man who told me I was his soulmate. You two have the same voice, and here…” Jimin brings out his sketch pad and finally shows it to Taehyung.

“I draw the face of the man in my dream. Does it look like you?”

Taehyung gasps dramatically because, my gosh. Jimin has perfectly drawn his face!

“This is really me…I’m your soulmate, Jimin.” Taehyung stutters a breath. His heart beats fast.

Jimin chuckles softly, and then he touches Taehyung’s eyes. “Yes, you told me in my dream, too. I’m just waiting for you to realize it in real life.”

The thing about soulmates is it’s complex. Researchers even claim there are different universes, all of which have the concept of soulmates. Some hear the thoughts of their soulmates in their heads. Some are immortals and will only die if they do the act with their soulmates. And then comes their world, a monochromatic place where you’ll see colors once you look at your soulmate’s eyes.

But it’s not that simple. Sometimes, you have to free yourself from your own judgment first. Sometimes, you must be honest first; sometimes, you just have to wait.

****

Accept this fic while I take my time writing my ongoing JJK series here.

This is originally a soukoku fic I've written before. If you prefer that version, click here. I've converted it into a JJK x reader because it was requested by an anon here. If there are obvious mistakes in pronouns and such, please tell me because as said, this is originally a fic for a different fandom and it used to be a mxm pairing. I may have missed some thing while editing it.

I've written the same concept of soulmate ft. JJK years ago. It's a series which you can read here.

I appreciate comments the most! If you have suggestions about addtional tw, please don't hesitate to message me. Thank you ~~

#jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook x reader #ficswithluv #jungkook x you #bts fic #jungkook x oc #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x yn #jungkook roommate au #jungkook established relationship #soft boy jungkook #detective

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fictionismyreality3 · 9 days ago

Text

Flowers and First Dates

Warnings: romance and everything that comes with it, home invasions, allusions to violence

Notes: this is the longest fic I’ve written in so long and now my fingers hurt 😞

Whoever was crashing around in your store downstairs really wasn’t going to find much. It was 4am, and you had long since put away any profits for the day. Which is why it took your sleep drunk brain, eyelids heavy with a forgotten dream, to realize this was actually happening.

The sharp cracking of what you’d long since memorized to be the sound of a flower pot breaking stirred you out of your frozen terror.

Springing up from your bed, your flung the covers off in a panic, a jolt of sheer dread going down your spine when you heard a set of heavy, lumbering footsteps climbing the stairs that connected your flower shop to your flat. To you. Stumbling blindly in the dark, you pushed away the urge to turn your beside light on.

Somehow in your panic you had enough foresight to try and deceive your would-be thief into thinking you weren’t home. With shaky hands, you unlocked your phone, hitting the call button for one of your newest contacts without thought.

Price was happy for Kate. Really, he was. But the warmth and open love he saw in the eyes of her and her wife did nothing to stop the growing sour spot in his chest. And when they’d announced their plans to have a baby, even if it was just told to the small inner circle of the team, it dug the knife in John’s gut deeper.

Pushing open the door of the nearest place he could find to buy flowers, he brushed his shoes on the mat, fixing the collar of his coat in an attempt to pacify his gruff appearance.

The sound of the bell jingling brought your vision from the invoice book you were filling out.

"Hi, what can I help you with?"

Jesus fucking christ.

All the air got knocked out of Price's lungs, his mouth opening and closing as he stood there like a gaping fish. You were like a ray of sunshine. All bright smiles and dainty hands, elegant movements that he couldn't help but follow with his eyes.

And fuck, that sundress you were wearing, a pretty yellow that he was sure would be permanently burned into his eyelids. Yellow was his favourite colour now.

Running a hand over his beard, John let out a huff of air, a tortured feeling screwing itself deeper into his chest. There were posies or some shit dotted along the fabric of your dress, the dress that had his hands twitching at his side as he itched to rip it off of you. He almost forgot he was supposed to be looking at flowers for Kate, not at the flowers covering your pretty little-

"Is there something in particular you're looking for, sir?"

Sir, sir, sir, sir, sir, sir, sir-

Trying not to look like a creep, John cleared his throat, a sheepish smile on his face. "Just lookin' for some flowers for a collegue of mine, luv."

Luv, luv, luv, luv, luv, luv-

Plastering on a polite smile in an attempt to hide how your cheeks were heating up in a blush, you stepped out from around the counter, brushing the dirt off your hands. Helping him search for the right combination, you plucked out some myrtle, yellow roses, and daffodils. As you placed each one in the vase, you went over the meanings, unaware of John's intent gaze on your face.

He had no clue what a begonia was but god did he like hearing you talk.

By the time you were done putting together the bouquet, John seemed unable to wipe the smile off his face, his eyes on you the entire time. It was only when you started ringing up his total that he realized this interaction would remained entirely transactional unless he did something about it.

"Say, luv, y'got a lad waiting for you at home?" It was blunt, but he figured it better to rip the bandaid off, spare him the torture.

Your hand stilled over the buttons of the register. "Uh, no. I don't." A nervous chuckled burbled out of your mouth, cutting through the air.

"Y'want one?"

Shit.

The words seemed to catch in the air, lingering tauntingly between the two of you as Price kicked himself for not keeping a better hold on his tongue. Sparks of uncertantity fluttered in your chest. The piercing blue eyes staring back at you gave no relief, especially when they held just as much embarrassment as yours.

"Are you-"

"Do you want-"

Both of you spoke at the same time, John lowering his head and huffing out a chuckle. He cleared his throat, looking at the way your pretty face was heating up in a blush. He could ask a girl on a date. He'd done harder things. But with the way his tongue felt like lead in his mouth, it seemed a miracle he got any words out at all.

"Look, sweetheart." He sucked his teeth, eyes darting to where you were white-knuckling the counter.

"Y'seem like a lovely girl. And I'd love to.." Why was he sweating like a teenaged boy?

"Do you want my number?"

Sucking in a breath, John met your eyes with a sheepish smile. For such a soft looking thing, you had more guts than most of his rookies.

He left your shop with a bouquet and a smile.

They were fiddling with the doorknob to your apartment now. The jangling of the metal stabbed another bolt of fear in your chest. You couldn't get to the bathroom to hide. It was across the hall and you weren't really in the mood to dart out and get spotted.

The dial tone kept rumbling through the speaker of your phone. You checked the lock on your bedroom door again.

John's head was pounding, the scent of cigarettes, rum and cheap beer punching him in his throat. With a groan, he sat up and ran a hand over his beard, the sound of his phone ringing cutting through his grogginess.

"Hmm? Wha' is it?"

A sigh of relief whooshed out of your lungs, but when you went to take a breath again, all that came out was this tortured choking noise.

Eyes darting to the time, Price glanced around the rec room at his team's sleeping forms. Nobody had his phone number aside from the people he trusted, and they were all passed out in various states of drunkenness.

"Who is this?"

His voice was raspy, weathered by his constant cigar smoking. You latched on to the sound. "J-John?"

Jolting upright, Price snapped wide-awake at your panicked tone, getting up and kicking Ghost's leg to wake him up. He was already grabbing his beat-up flannel, mind running through possibilities and reasons for your distressed voice.

"What's goin' on, luv? Talk to me."

Your lip wobbled, eyes catching on the doorknob of the closet you'd locked yourself in. You could hear them in your apartment now, drawers opening and closing as they rustled around in your kitchen.

"There's someone in my h-house."

Price grabbed the keys to his truck, molten anger beginning to bubble in the center of his chest as he let out a curse. Ghost was the first to rouse, eyes snapping open in an automatic response of hypervigilance. Spotting his captain already walking out of the door, he shook Soap and Gaz awake.

"Wha'? Was try-"

"Get the fuck up, Johnny. Something's wrong."

John didn't have to look back to know his men were follwing him as he stormed through the halls of base and out to the parking lot. He didn't have to bat an eye as he tossed Gaz the keys and barked an adress at him, not bothering to explain to you how he knew where you lived.

"John? I can hear them g-getting closer." You squeaked out, picking a a hangnail to focus on anything else.

"Luv, I need y'to listen to me, alright?"

"Alright."

Gaz started the truck, pulling onto the empty 4am roads. "Take a breath for me, sweethear'.' Your lungs sucked in air regardless of your panic. "Y'somewhere with a locked door?"

"I... I locked myself in my closet."

The sniffle in your voice tore through his heart, his fists already clenching as he thought about getting his hands on whoever was stupid enough to cause you distress. "Good girl."

Gaz shot him a look.

"Jus' keep talkin' to me, yeah?"

"Please don't hang up."

Something fell with a loud crash, a whimper caught in your throat as you pressed a hand to your mouth to muffle your sobs. You could hear them getting closer and closer and soon they would-

"Darlin'?" A whiney noise came out of you. "Breathe f'me, luvie."

"John-"

Barking at Gaz to drive faster, Price countined to mutter praises into his phone, trying to keep you talking and out of the spiral of panic he could hear you slipping into.

"Ken y'tell us what's goin' on, Cap?" Soap was the only one still a little too sloshed to have put the pieces together. That, and he was a little dense sometimes.

"Someone's in my girl's house."

Johnny didn't crack a joke like he wanted to, closing his jaw that wanted to hang open as he caught the tightly contained venom in his captain's voice when he pushed Gaz to drive faster, faster. None of them had to ask for instruction. This was their captain's girl, even if they hadn't known she existed. This was personal.

Gaz shortened the 20 minute drive into 5. He could deal with the ticket later.

You were crying now, hot tears running down your cheeks as you tried to keep yourself as quiet as possible. Heavy boots stomped closer to your room. Someone was trying the doorknob. John was still talking, his husky voice running into your ear, but you couldn't hear him anymore. Not really.

You were too focused on the sound of glass shattering, a small part of you wondering if your favourite mug would survive all this. There had to be at least two people, that much you were sure of with the way the footsteps seemed to split, each pair going off to cause their own path of destruction.

"Someone's banging on my door!" You gasped, tucking your knees up to your chest. "Oh, god. John they're gonna-"

A low groan of agony morphed into a cry of anger, splitting the air. Your fear muddled mind desperately tried to catch up. They were fighting each other. Why would the theives be fighting each other?

A soft knock on your bedroom door tore you from your spiral, gentle, but loud enough for you to hear it even where you were hiding in the closet.

Blinking, the sound of John's voice brought your attention back to your phone.

"What?"

"I'm here, luvie."

What?

"Open the door, sweetheart."

"But.. but I.. you don't.." Your mouth felt dry, the words stuck like sandpaper on your tongue.

"Open the door, sweetie. Let m'see you're safe." With wooden joints, you pushed yourself off the floor of your closet, walking robotically towards the door of your bedroom. The doorknob sat mockingly.

"What if they're still there? What if they-" He cut you off with a soft shushing noise. "You trust me, yeah?" You couldn't hear the crashing or banging anymore.

"..yes." You whispered.

"Open the door."

Shaking, your fingers met the cool metal of the doorknob. You hit the lock, and before you could swing the door the rest of the way open, John was pushing his way into your room. Walking by you, he starting scanning around all while you stood there dumbfounded. Tears still drying on your face, you watched in rapt confusion as he checked the closet you were just hiding in, moving to the window and pulling back the curtain to look outside.

"John?"

Oh, you poor, sweet girl.

He pushed urge to rip the heads off the men who Ghost and Soap were now tying up in your living to the back-burner, crossing the room in two long strides. He didn't wait to take you in his arms, pulling you flush to his chest and tucking your head under his chin.

John smelt of cigars, woody and strong, the tinge of gunpowder that seemed to linger on him caused you to wrinkle your nose. His arms were around you and he kept a hand on the back of your head, preventing you from looking anywhere but his broad chest and just like that you were crying again.

"Shh.." He cooed. "I know, I know, sweetheart."

God, he hated this. Just a week. All it took was just a week and getting your phone number for you to get caught up in the messy world of his work. There was no doubt in his mind that the men who'd attempted to ransack your apartment were part of the group Laswell had the 141 hunting for the last few months. The tattoos on their hands confirming his suspiscions.

But, he didn't give a fuck about work or unraveling how they'd got close enough to find you through a phone number he got on a stroke of luck. Letting out a heavy breath, he stroked the softness of your hair, almost to reassure himself that you were safe.

"M'gonna take you with me, yeah?" With bleary eyes you looked up at him, all sniffles and sugar and he was just about ready to go stop Ghost and have a chat with the men who'd-

"I'm still... I'm still in my pajamas." Your voice was airy, trembling, something that John had seen all too well in shocked civilans. "My clothes... my.. my.." You couldn't seem to think about anything aside from how you were wearing your pajamas, your mind forcefully ignoring the state of your apartment and everything that just happened.

"S'okay, sweet girl." Glancing down at the state of you, John felt a pang in his chest. You were wearing an old t-shirt and some sleep pants with little bunnies printed on them. "Let's get you out of here, yeah?"

Opening your mouth, you tried to respond, but all you could muster was a noise of agreement.

"Jus' look at me, yeah?" Steering you out of your bedroom, John kept your shaking frame tucked carefully into his size, holding your gaze with a hand on your cheek.

"Eyes on me."

He wouldn't let you see the state of your apartment, the glass and broken furniture littering the floor.

Wrapping his flannel around you, Price drew your attention with a poorly executed joke, keeping you from seeing the bloody and battered bodies Soap and Ghost were cleaning up.

As you got to the bottom of the stairs and outside, you passed by a man with a friendly looking smile and worn baseball cap.

"M'takin her. Call Kate and let 'er know 'bout the situation. She'll send you a car."

"Right, sir."

You didn't argue when he guided you into the passenger seat of a red truck, buckling you in and going over to the driver's seat himself. You didn't argue as he started the engine, pulling onto the road and taking you somewhere else. He kept a hand on your thigh, the rough pads of his fingers rubbing soothing circles onto your skin.

Through the thick haze of your tears, you found your voice.

"Hell of a first date, huh?"

#john price x female reader #john price x f!reader #captain john price x you #captain price x female reader #captain john price x reader #captain john price #captain price x f!reader #john price x y/n #captain price x y/n #captain price x you #john price x you #john price x reader #captain price x reader #captain john price x female reader #price x reader #price x y/n #price x you

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bangchansdirty-slut · 13 days ago

Text

Psycho Killer

•───⋅⋆⁺‧₊☽⛦☾₊‧⁺⋆⋅───•

Paring: Top!GP!SerialKiller!Winter x Bttm!Therapist!Reader

Genre: Smut

Summary: Winter, a notorious serial killer, becomes obsessed with her therapist, Y/n, while attending sessions for childhood trauma. After killing Y/n’s untrustworthy girlfriend in a jealous rage, Winter, wearing her killer’s mask, breaks into Y/n’s home, ready to reveal her twisted devotion.

More: Masterlist

A/n: My mom grounded me, so I can only use my computer at school, so I wrote this at school.

•───⋅⋆⁺‧₊☽⛦☾₊‧⁺⋆⋅───•

"Is it always going to be like this?" Winter's voice was a cool breeze, devoid of emotion as she sat in the chair opposite Y/n, her therapist. She toyed with the ends of her ginger hair, her eyes a frosty blue that seemed to peer into the depths of Y/n's soul.

Y/n leaned forward, her eyes full of empathy. "Every session is a step forward, Winter. Sometimes it feels like two steps back, but trust the process." Her voice was a gentle coax, the room a cocoon of safety.

Winter's gaze sharpened. "You don't understand. The world outside is a minefield, and everyone's just waiting to blow me up." Her words were a stark contrast to the serene office, the walls lined with diplomas and the scent of lavender candles trying to soothe the air.

Y/n nodded, maintaining eye contact. "Your trust issues are valid, but let's explore them together. What happened in your past that makes you feel so… unsafe?"

Winter's eyes narrowed, a hint of anger flashing through them. "You're not special," she said, her voice a low growl. "You're just like everyone else."

Y/n remained unfazed, her expression calm and understanding. "I know you've been hurt, but I'm here to help you heal."

Winter's grip tightened on the armrests, her jaw clenching. "You can't fix me," she spat, a flicker of pain crossing her face.

Y/n's voice remained steady. "I'm not here to fix you, Winter. I'm here to listen and guide you through the healing process."

Winter's icy demeanor cracked slightly, revealing a glimpse of the vulnerability beneath. "Why do you even care?" she murmured, the question hanging in the air like a shard of broken ice.

Y/n leaned back in her chair, a small smile playing on her lips. "Because everyone deserves to live without fear, to find happiness. That's what therapy is about."

Winter studied her for a moment, then sighed, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. "Fine," she said, her voice softer. "Let's talk."

Their sessions grew more intense as the weeks passed, a dance of words and emotions that saw Winter slowly peeling back the layers of her armor. Y/n was patient, a beacon of light in the cold, dark labyrinth of Winter's psyche. The therapist's office became a sanctuary where the frosty facade of the killer melted away, revealing a girl desperately yearning for connection.

Winter spoke of her childhood, her words a frostbitten whisper of pain and betrayal. Each session chipped away at the wall she had built, the ice queen slowly thawing before Y/n's warmth. Y/n's empathy was a balm to her tortured soul, and she found herself craving the gentle touch of understanding that only her therapist seemed to provide.

One evening, as the sun bled into the sky, painting the horizon with crimson hues, Winter lay in wait outside Y/n's apartment. She had followed her from the office, curiosity and something darker coiling in her stomach. Through the crack in the blinds, she watched as Y/n's girlfriend arrived, her laughter too bright, too false.

Winter's heart turned to ice. She knew the type—charming, manipulative, the kind that would leave scars. Her fists clenched around the handle of her signature knife, the cold steel a comforting weight. This couldn't stand. Y/n was hers to protect, to cherish. That night, as the shadows grew long, she made her decision.

The following session, Winter was unusually quiet, her eyes distant and haunted. Y/n sensed a shift, a storm brewing beneath the calm surface. She waited, letting the silence stretch taut between them, giving Winter the space to speak when she was ready.

"I had a… a disturbing dream," Winter finally said, her voice shaky. "It was about someone dying."

Y/n leaned in, her eyes searching Winter's face for clues. "Tell me about it," she urged, her voice a soothing lilt.

Winter took a deep, shuddering breath. "It was you," she said, her gaze dropping to her interlaced fingers. "Someone was hurting you, and I couldn't stop them."

Y/n's heart skipped a beat. "It's okay," she soothed, her voice a warm caress. "It's just a dream."

Winter looked up, her eyes a tempest of emotions. "But what if it's not?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "What if I can't control the monster inside me?"

Y/n reached out, her hand hovering over Winter's. "You're not a monster, you're just lost," she said firmly. "We'll find your way together."

Winter's eyes searched Y/n's, and she saw something she hadn't before—hope. It was a dangerous emotion, one she had long ago buried under layers of anger and fear. But here it was, pulsing through her veins like a trapped animal desperate to break free.

"I want to believe you," she murmured, her voice barely audible.

Y/n nodded, her hand now resting gently on Winter's. "You can, Winter. We'll do this together."

But Winter's thoughts were spiraling. Her obsession grew with every beat of her heart, and she knew she couldn't let anyone else hurt Y/n. She needed to be the one in control. She needed Y/n to be hers and only hers.

That night, she watched as Y/n's girlfriend left her house, her eyes following the taunting sway of her hips. Winter knew what she had to do. With the precision of a seasoned predator, she stalked the girlfriend through the quiet streets, her rage a silent symphony in her ears.

The girlfriend's screams pierced the night as Winter attacked, her movements swift and methodical. The knife sliced through the air, and with each cut, she felt a piece of her own pain dissipate. The girlfriend's eyes widened in horror, realizing too late the gravity of her actions. Winter's face was a mask of cold determination, her heart a block of ice as she watched the life drain from the woman's body.

When it was over, she returned to her own apartment, the echoes of the girlfriend's screams still ringing in her ears. She showered, scrubbing away the blood and the guilt, but the feeling of satisfaction lingered, a dark blossom in her chest. Winter knew she had crossed a line, but she couldn't bring herself to regret it. Y/n was safe now, free from the clutches of a woman who didn't deserve her.

The next session with Y/n was fraught with tension. Winter sat in the chair, the weight of her secret pressing down on her like a leaden blanket. She watched her therapist with a mix of longing and fear, her eyes hungry for the warmth she knew she didn't deserve.

Y/n noticed the change in her patient, the subtle shifts in body language and tone. "Winter," she said, her voice a gentle prod. "What's on your mind today?"

Winter's eyes flicked to the floor, then back up to meet Y/n's. "It's nothing," she said, her voice a brittle lie. "Just… stress."

Y/n nodded, her gaze unwavering. "Would you like to talk about it?"

Winter swallowed hard, the taste of bile rising in her throat. She had killed for Y/n, had become the monster she feared she was to protect the one person who had ever offered her kindness. Yet she found herself unable to speak the truth. "No," she said, her voice a hollow echo. "It's just… personal."

Y/n's gaze softened, her hand reaching out to cover Winter's. "You know you can tell me anything, right?"

Winter nodded, her throat tight. "I know," she croaked. But she couldn't. Not this. Not yet. The lie sat heavy on her tongue, a cold, dead weight.

The following week, Y/n noticed a newfound tension in Winter's demeanor. Her eyes darted around the room, and she was jumpy, her responses clipped and curt. Y/n's concern grew with every passing minute, her gut telling her that something was very wrong.

"Winter," she said softly, her eyes searching the other woman's face. "What happened?"

Winter's jaw tightened, her eyes flickering to the side. "It's nothing," she murmured, her voice a whisper of a storm. "I just… had a rough week."

Y/n leaned in, her eyes filled with genuine concern. "You can share anything with me," she said, her voice a warm embrace. "I'm here to help."

Winter took a deep breath, the walls of her heart threatening to crumble under the weight of her obsession. "It's just… I can't shake these thoughts," she admitted, her voice strained. "These… dark thoughts."

Y/n's eyes searched hers, a silent plea for her to continue. "Thoughts about what, Winter?"

Winter took a shaky breath, her eyes never leaving Y/n's. "Thoughts about… protecting you," she said, her voice a whisper. "Thoughts about what I would do to anyone who tries to hurt you."

Y/n's eyes widened, a chill running down her spine. "Winter, you don't have to do anything like that. I can handle my own problems."

Winter's gaze grew intense, her eyes burning with a fiery determination. "You don't understand," she said, her voice a low growl. "They don't get to hurt you. No one does."

Y/n felt a strange mix of fear and comfort at the possessive tone in Winter's voice. "Who are 'they'?" she asked, her voice a gentle coax.

Winter leaned forward, her eyes blazing. "The ones who don't deserve you," she said, her voice a deadly whisper. "The ones who hurt you, betray you."

Y/n's heart raced as she realized the depth of Winter's obsession. "What have you done?" she breathed, her voice barely audible.

Winter's eyes searched Y/n's, desperation clinging to every word. "I've taken care of it," she said, her tone final. "You don't have to worry about 'they' anymore."

Y/n's heart hammered in her chest. "What do you mean?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly.

"The session is over Y/n," Winter said abruptly, her eyes hardening. "Remember, It was all for you."

Y/n nodded, the weight of unspoken truths hanging heavy in the air. As Winter left, Y/n couldn't shake the feeling of unease that had settled into her bones. The girlfriend's sudden disappearance had made the local news, but the thought of her being involved never once crossed her mind.

Y/n went home that night with a sense of dread coiling in her stomach. She couldn’t shake the feeling that Winter had done something terrible, all in the twisted name of protecting her. The house was eerily quiet, the usual comfort of her sanctuary now feeling suffocating. She poured herself a glass of wine, trying to dull the edge of her anxiety.

As she sat at her desk in her bedroom, Y/n's thoughts raced. Her mind was a tornado of doubt and fear, swirling around the words Winter had left unsaid. The quiet hum of the city outside her window did little to soothe her racing heart. Her eyes fell upon the framed photo of her and her girlfriend, now a haunting reminder of a happiness that felt like a distant memory.

With trembling hands, she picked up the phone and dialed her girlfriend's number, the ringtone echoing through the empty apartment. It went straight to voicemail. Her heart plummeted. Something was wrong. A cold sweat broke out on her forehead, and she couldn't ignore the sinking feeling that her world was about to shatter.

That very same night, the masked Winter found herself standing outside Y/n's apartment, the cold steel of her knife pressing against her palm. The darkness whispered to her, egging her on. She couldn't ignore the siren call of her obsession. It was time to reveal her true self, to show Y/n that she was the one worthy of her love and trust.

With a silent prayer to the moon, she slipped inside, the shadows welcoming her like a long-lost friend. The apartment was a maze of shadows and memories, each step bringing her closer to the woman who had unwittingly captured her heart.

Winter moved with the grace of a ghost, the mask she wore a silent declaration of her intentions. Her eyes searched the darkness, seeking out the room where Y/n lay, oblivious to the danger lurking in the shadows. Her heart thundered in her chest, a drumbeat of anticipation and fear. The need to be close to Y/n had grown into an obsession, a hunger that gnawed at her soul. She had to show her that she was the only one who truly cared.

As she approached the bedroom door, she heard the faint sound of Y/n’s voice, a whisper in the dark. She paused, her hand hovering over the doorknob, her breaths shallow and quick. The sound grew louder, and she realized it was Y/n's voice on the phone, desperate and fearful.

"Hello? Hello? Where are you?" Y/n's voice was a raw, trembling plea. Winter's heart clenched at the sound, a mix of satisfaction and guilt. She knew she had to act. She couldn't let Y/n suffer any longer. With the grace of a panther, she entered the room, the moon casting a silver glow across the bed.

Y/n jumped at the sudden intrusion, Winter's hand flying to her mouth to stifle a scream. She looked up to see the masked figure standing over her, the cold moonlight glinting off the blade in her hand. Her eyes grew wide with terror, the phone slipping from her grip and clattering to the floor.

Winter took a step closer, her eyes peering into Y/n's terrified gaze. Slowly, she reached up and removed the mask, her own eyes brimming with a fervent mix of love and fear. "It's me," she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. "It's just me."

Y/n stared at her, recognition dawning in her eyes. She pushed herself back against the headboard, the fear slowly morphing into anger. "What the hell are you doing here?" she hissed, her voice shaking.

Winter's grip on the knife tightened, her eyes never leaving Y/n's. "I came for you," she said, her voice low and intense. "To show you that I'm the only one who truly cares for you, who will keep you safe." She caressed Y/n's cheek with the back of her hand, the cold steel of the knife a stark contrast to her warm touch.

Y/n's breath hitched, a mix of anger and confusion clouding her vision. "What are you talking about?" she spat out, pushing Winter's hand away. "You're just my patient. You don't know me like that."

Winter's expression grew pained. "You don't understand," she whispered, her voice filled with a desperation that chilled Y/n to the core. "I know everything about you. Your favorite shows, your favorite book, the way you take your coffee. I've studied you, Y/n. I know you better than anyone."

Y/n's heart hammered against her ribs as she took in the madness in Winter's eyes. "What have you done?" she choked out, her voice trembling with fear.

Winter raised the knife, the blood stained blade glinting in the moonlight. "I've removed the one who didn't deserve you," she said, her voice a soft growl. "Your girlfriend, the one who hurt you. She can't hurt you anymore."

Y/n's eyes went wide with horror as the pieces fell into place. "No," she whispered, her voice hoarse. "Winter, no."

Winter's eyes searched hers, a storm of emotions raging behind the icy facade. "You don't understand," she said, her voice a desperate plea. "I did it for us."

Y/n's eyes grew colder than the steel blade. "Get out," she snarled, her voice laced with venom.

Winter's hand wavered, the knife still poised dangerously close to Y/n's face. "But I did it for you," she repeated, the desperation in her tone growing stronger. "I couldn't let her hurt you."

Y/n's voice was like a whip cracking through the air. "Get out of my house, and get help," she ordered, her voice shaking with rage and fear. "You're not the person I thought you were."

Winter's hand lowered, the knife clattering to the floor. Her eyes searched Y/n's face, a silent plea for understanding. "But I love you," she murmured, the words a hoarse whisper.

Y/n's expression was a twisted mask of anger and fear. "Love doesn't mean controlling me or hurting others," she spat. "Get out." Y/n stood up.

Winter grabbed Y/n's waist and pushed her down onto the bed, her eyes wild with a fierce determination that was both terrifying and mesmerizing. "You don't understand," she hissed, her grip tightening. "You're mine now."

Y/n's heart raced as she stared up at the crazed woman she had once considered a patient. "Winter, you need help," she said, her voice trembling.

Winter leaned down, her ginger hair brushing against Y/n's cheek. "You're all the help I need," she murmured, her voice a seductive whisper. She claimed Y/n's lips in a kiss that was both fierce and tender, her hands moving to untie the therapist's wrists.

Y/n's mind raced as she felt the knots loosen, her thoughts a tumult of fear and disbelief. Yet, as Winter kissed her, a strange warmth began to unfurl within her. The line between terror and arousal blurred, the intensity of the moment overwhelming.

Breaking the kiss, Winter whispered, "Let me show you how much you mean to me." Her eyes searched Y/n's, desperate for a glimmer of acceptance.

Y/n's breath was ragged, her body a battleground of emotions. But as she stared into the depths of Winter's eyes, she saw something she hadn't before—pain. A desperate, all-consuming pain that mirrored her own. She didn't know if it was fear or pity, but she found herself nodding, her body going limp beneath the other woman's touch.

Winter's eyes lit up with a feral hunger as she began to undress Y/n, her movements deft and sure. Each piece of clothing that fell away revealed more of Y/n's soft, warm flesh, a stark contrast to the cold metal of the knife still lying on the floor.

Y/n's thoughts were a chaotic maelstrom, her body responding against her will to the surprising gentleness of Winter's touch. Her mind screamed for her to fight, to push the madness away, but something in those piercing eyes held her captive, a silent promise that she couldn't quite understand.

Winter's lips trailed down Y/n's neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Her teeth grazed the sensitive skin, sending shivers down her spine. Y/n's body was betraying her, arching into the kisses, her breathing growing ragged. The warmth of Winter's mouth moved lower, her tongue tracing the curve of her collarbone, making her squirm with a mix of fear and desire.

Winter paused, her eyes meeting Y/n's, searching for any sign of rejection. But all she found was a strange mix of anger and need. Her own need was a living, breathing creature within her, demanding to be sated. She leaned back, her eyes never leaving Y/n's as she unbuckled her own pants, revealing the girl cock she had kept hidden beneath her clothes.

Y/n's eyes widened, a mix of shock and curiosity. Despite her fear, she felt a heat pooling in her stomach. She had never been with someone like Winter before, never felt such a primal, overwhelming desire from a woman.

Winter leaned over her, the tip of her cock brushing against Y/n's thigh. "Do you want this?" she murmured, her voice a sultry whisper. "Do you want me to make you feel good?"

Y/n's eyes narrowed, anger and lust warring within her. "I don't know what you think you're doing," she hissed, her voice thick with emotion. "But if you think this will fix anything, you're wrong."

Winter ignored the words, her gaze locked on Y/n's exposed neck. She leaned in, her teeth grazing the sensitive flesh, leaving a trail of red beads in her wake. "You're mine," she whispered, the words a dark benediction.

Y/n felt a strange thrill at the possessive bite, the sting of pain mingling with the warmth spreading through her body. "You can't just take what you want," she growled, trying to push Winter away. But her protests were weak, her body betraying her with every shiver of pleasure.

Winter's eyes flashed with something primal, a dark need that sent a shiver down Y/n's spine. "But I'm not taking," she murmured, her breath hot against Y/n's ear. "I'm giving." And with that, she slid into Y/n with a gentle, yet insistent pressure that made Y/n's eyes roll back in her head.

The pain was brief, replaced almost immediately by a white-hot pleasure that coursed through her veins like liquid fire. Y/n couldn't help but moan, her body responding to the intrusion with a wanton eagerness that shocked her to her core.

Winter took the sound as a sign of encouragement, her hips moving in a slow, deliberate rhythm that had Y/n's legs wrapping around her waist of their own accord. The room was a symphony of gasps and sighs, the only light coming from the moon outside, casting an eerie glow across their tangled forms.

Y/n's nails dug into Winter's back, her teeth clenched as the pleasure grew, a crescendo building with each stroke. The anger and fear were still there, but now they were mingled with a need so intense it was almost painful. Her body was a live wire, every touch from Winter sending electric jolts of sensation through her.

Winter's eyes were closed, lost in the feel of Y/n's warmth enveloping her. The tightness, the wetness, it was everything she had dreamt of and more. She whispered sweet nothings in Y/n's ear, her voice a soft caress that seemed to reach into the very core of her soul.

Y/n's eyes squeezed shut, trying to block out the reality of the situation. But the sensations were too intense, too overwhelming to ignore. Her body responded to Winter's touch in a way she had never experienced before, her mind a haze of anger, fear, and a disturbing thrill.

Winter's thrusts grew deeper, more urgent, her own moans mingling with Y/n's. She whispered sweet, dark promises of protection and belonging, her breath hot and heavy against Y/n's neck. "You're mine," she repeated, her voice a hoarse chant.

Y/n felt the climax building, the tension coiling tighter and tighter within her. She wanted to hate it, to push Winter away, but her body craved the release that was so close, the feeling of being claimed by this woman who had invaded her life so thoroughly.

Winter's hand moved to Y/n's throat, her grip firm but not painful, the pressure a silent declaration of her dominance. Y/n's eyes flew open, a mix of anger and arousal in her gaze as she stared up at the woman who had become her tormentor and, now, her lover.

Winter felt the tension in Y/n's body, the way she arched into her touch, and knew she was close. She leaned down, her teeth grazing Y/n's earlobe as she whispered, "Say it. Tell me you're mine."

Y/n's eyes narrowed, the anger and lust warring within her. But as Winter's thumb traced circles around her clit, she couldn't hold back any longer. "I'm yours," she gasped, the words torn from her in a mix of anger and pleasure.

Winter's eyes lit up with triumph, her strokes becoming more intense. "That's right," she murmured, her voice a dark purr. "You're mine to protect, to cherish."

The words sent a shiver down Y/n's spine, her body responding in ways she never thought possible. She felt the orgasm building, a wave of pleasure that threatened to consume her. Winter's eyes bore into hers, the intensity of her stare almost as overwhelming as the sensations that rocked her body.

"Winter~," she choked out, her voice a desperate plea.

Winter's eyes widened, the sound of her own name on Y/n's lips like a sweet symphony. She leaned closer, her cock driving deeper into the therapist's wet heat. "Say it again," she demanded, her voice a mix of lust and possessiveness.

"Winter," Y/n gasped, her body trembling. "I'm yours."

The admission seemed to push Winter over the edge, her hips moving faster, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. Y/n's eyes rolled back in her head, the pleasure consuming her. She felt Winter's climax building, the other woman's body tightening around her, and she knew she was close.

With a final, desperate thrust, Winter came, her body shuddering with the force of it. Y/n's own orgasm followed, a wave that crashed over her, leaving her trembling and breathless. They stayed like that for a moment, their bodies tangled together in a mess of sweat and passion.

Winter leaned down, her forehead resting against Y/n's, their breath mingling in the heavy silence. "You feel so good," she murmured, her voice filled with awe. "I knew you would."

Y/n stared up at her, the anger and fear now tempered by the raw intimacy of the moment. "What now?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Winter pulled out of her, a look of satisfaction and possessiveness etched on her face. "Now," she said, her voice thick with emotion, "you're mine."

#aespa x fem reader #aespa x reader #winter x reader #kim minjeong x reader #aespa winter #winter imagines #bangchansdirty-slut #kim minjeong imagines #minjeong x reader #winter scenarios #winter x y/n #winter x you

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lewdmommie · 1 year ago

Text

Just friends

Summary: can y/n manage being just friends?

Word count: 7.k

🎀Warning🎀:18+NSFW, oral sex, language, fluff, angst, violence, gore, sexual content,panic attack etc

(Like, comment, reblog for part four💗)

This is part 3 of one night stand

Part 1

Part 2

“We need to talk about yesterday.” You state firmly. Your tone was completely different from your usual lighthearted and funny personality. König and Ghost have quite literally seen you crack a joke in the middle of open gunfire. This was uncharted territory for them, whatever you were about to say had to be important. You take a deep breath, thinking of your next words carefully. The last thing you wanted was to hurt anyone again…especially König.

“Spit it out rookie.” Ghost says annoyed.

“Oh god how do I even say this…I feel something…something I can’t explain when I’m with you.” You look at König, he shifts nervously under your gaze.

“And with you.” Your head turns to face Ghost, staring into those glimmering obsidian eyes. He breaks eye contact looking far off into the distance without a word.

“I don’t know what it means but I know it’s something I can’t ignore.” Your brow scrunches as you choke the words out.

“I want to get to know you both and I’m here to ask for that opportunity. I’m here to ask you to be my friends. No titles. No rankings. No romance. Just…friends.” Your teeth nibble at your lower lip waiting for someone else to talk. It was nerve racking not being able to read their facial expressions. Their body language didn’t give much away either, you shift on your heels.

“That’s what you barged in here to ask for… friendship?” He slowly rises from his desk glaring in your direction.

“Well…yeah” Your voice is low.

“Do you really think friendship can fix everything?” Königs voice is dark, he speaks the word friendship as if it was something rancid on his tongue.

“I’m not saying it can I just…” you explain.

“I don’t need to be a part of whatever you two have going on. Leave. both of you.” Ghost barks.

“You seemed to be a part of it yesterday when you had your hands all over her.” König rasps, turning his killer gaze onto him. Ghost strides from behind the desk, his heavy footsteps fill the air as he takes slow deliberate steps forward. The tension is so thick you can cut it with a knife. A chill runs down your spine as you’re standing flush in between these skyscrapers. He stands tall looking König straight in the eyes, not even acknowledging your presence between them.

“I don’t like your tone colonel. I think you’d better change that.” His head tilts mockingly, sizing him up.

“I was just thinking the same thing about you sergeant.” He beams into him like white hot lasers.

“Hah, you’ve always been balsy König, could always count on you to get the job done. But I want you to remember something…you can beat them out there on that battlefield but here this is my territory and you won’t win.” He steps closer making sure he heard every word.

“Why don't we find out serg.” He says through clenched teeth. At this point you’re sure they have completely forgotten your existence . You plant your palms on ghosts chest pushing him back, he seemed to snap back to reality realizing you were still there.

“This isn’t the time or the place…no war within our army. Those are your words sergeant! As a leader you have to practice and enforce that as law. König I know you’re angry and have every right to be but last night was training and that’s all. I won’t keep repeating myself anymore, I get that it’s hard to trust but you’re going to have to try.” You scold.

“ Why do you care so much? How can you stand here and act like you know what I want. You don’t know anything. I’ve never given you the impression that-“ Simon rambles.

“I know it sounds stupid, crazy even, but I know you want to get closer to me Ghost.” You say gently, König tenses at the soft tone of your voice…had you ever spoken to him that way? He couldn’t recall a time you had, and that made him envious.

“You need someone. You’ve spent so much of your time in isolation, it’s time to let people in.” Never had he heard you sound so sure of yourself.

How could you break down his walls so easily, there is something about you that made him feel at ease. When he’s with you it feels like he’s allowed to smile,Things feel easier…happier. But he knew from experience things like this didn’t come so easy. People always get hurt when love is involved.

“And König…I’m tired of fighting. I’m tired of being angry and resentful towards each other. These past few weeks have brought us closer together and I don’t want to ruin that with one misunderstanding.” His face burns tomato red under his mask, but he wouldn’t show it. His shoulder stiffen as if he’d been sliced across the chest. How could such beautiful words hurt this bad , you’d summed up his feelings for you perfectly but he couldn’t shake the thought of you being so involved with Ghost. Being your friend sounds like absolute torture but it was a ray of hope. Hope that one day maybe you would undoubtedly love him back. He felt like a lost puppy waiting to be owned by you…it was foolish but he couldn’t stop himself. Your naivety muddled the fact that this would be war and you were the prize.

“It has always been you. I’ve got so much blood on my hands it could run a river red and yet you were granted the title of sergeant. You’ve somehow made sure I was one step below you but that’s gonna change. You said I couldn’t win…watch me.” He says sharply.

“So this is your playing field…her?” Ghost looks you up and down with judgmental eyes. You grimace wondering why he looked so unimpressed.

“Hah, fine I’ll bite. What are the rules of the game?” Ghost chuckles, you could hear the smirk in his voice.

“We get individual days to spend with y/n and the other person cannot interfere.”

“And what about the days that aren’t accounted for?” His head tilts curiously.

“First come first serve. It’s up to y/n who she would want to spend that free time with even though I know it’ll be me. No one likes being around you.” König taunts, it isn’t clear if it’s the jealousy talking or the militant hunger for victory. Either way you didn’t appreciate them auctioning off your time and affection like some silly little game.

“You’re on. It’s about time I remind you of your place, colonel.” He reaches out an open palm, König grasps it firmly, shaking on the terms.

It’s like everything you said completely went over their heads but you knew it would take patience and time to build a stronger relationship with them. If thinking of it as a competition got them on board, then you’d just have to play along.

Your arms tremble as you push the weighted bar up with all your strength. Your shoulders burn with each rep begging for a break, to your body’s dismay, you were just warming up. You look up into caramel colored eyes, Maya smiles down at you as she helps support the weight of the bar. With a final push you line it up with the metal stand, it lands with a loud crack. You sit up, sweat pouring down your face. Maya removes the white towel from around her neck, she dabs away the stray droplets as they fall. She was always right there at your side helping you with even the tiniest of things.

“Remember to hydrate. The body can lose up to 10 liters of water a day when active.” She hands you her purple water bottle.

“Your knowledge never ceases to amaze me, you're gonna make a great doctor one day.” You tip the bottle up, taking several gulps before coming back up for air. Maya’s eyes softened, she needed to hear that; with all the death and injuries on base that passion could be lost. She is a practicing apprentice Doctor on base as she studies remotely to get her doctorate in medical science. Balancing education with active military duty was no easy feat, personal attachment can get in the way. People she laughed with, pulled pranks on, sat and had meals with…had died in her arms. Brutal excruciating deaths that she could do nothing about. No matter how hard she tried to save everyone…their blood still stained her hands. She thought often about what she would do if you got hurt…could she save you? Maya shakes the negative thoughts away reminding herself that you were one of the special forces best. You may be a handful but you were damn good at your job.

“Thank you y/n, you don’t know how much that means to me.” She stamps a kiss on your forehead.

“I walked in on Sergeant Ghost and Colonel König talking about some new intel on the target. There might be a raid soon, I know how anxious you are with new missions.” A look of discomfort flashes on her face leaving just as quickly. She puts on a fake smile not wanting to put any more stress on you. You were the one who would be out there on the front lines risking your life and she didn’t want to worry you.

“I’m okay,really, you get used to it.” You weren’t sure if she was trying to convince you or herself.

“If you ever need to talk…I am here Maya. I’m always here.” You bore into her with sincere eyes.

“and that’s why you’re my best friend. Now come on, we gotta keep that heart rate up.” She takes your hand, helping you to your feet. The two of you walked over to the pull up bar, arm day was not fun��at all. Your muscles were already achy and tired but you had to push in order to build endurance.

“Can’t I just work on legs today, that’s so much easier.” You whine, Maya laughs patting your lower back.

“As much as I agree with that statement, no. You handle high caliber weaponry. if you’re not strong, All that push back could damage your muscles.” She raises her arms holding the stretches in ten second intervals. Because of her insane height there is no need to use a stepping ladder, she simply reaches up and gets to work. Her fingers graze the bar before pulling back suddenly.

“I forgot my chalk, it helps prevent blisters, I’ll be back. Go ahead and start your sets without me. I gotta run back to our room.” She jogs off leaving you standing alone in the gym. You always felt slightly self conscious being in the weight room without a partner. Like everyone was watching you. Judging you. In reality no one even glanced your way but that didn’t stop the anxiety from striking. A small tremor shakes your hands as you reach up for the bar. It’s way too tall to grab on your own, Maya was usually there to give you a lift. You scan the area for a spare stepping stool or chair but everything is occupied. Eyes. Eyes everywhere. There looked to be two of everything as your vision doubled.The room begins to spin and your knees feel weak, where was Maya? When would she be back? Maya? Maya? Maya?!

“Y/n look at me. Are you okay? Should I take you to the infirmary?” Your vision begins to focus turning the two ghosts in front of you, into one. Your breathing is shaky, you nod unable to speak. His head tilts forward with concern, his bare hand cups

your elbow as he pulls you closer.

“Your eye movements are unsteady,breathing accelerated, pupils dilated…you’re having a panic attack. Talk to me y/n what is distressing you?” His voice is gentle, calming even.

“People. Just so many people. M-Maya left… I’m alone. I-I don’t like being alone.”you choke. His heart breaks at your words, loneliness was no stranger to him. Thinking back, Ghost couldn’t recall a time when you weren’t surrounded by people. He figured it’s because of how likable and fun you were but now the dots began to connect. You made sure to never be alone because it scared you…just like it scared him.

“I’ll stay with you.” His voice was earnest, he surprised himself with his sudden reaction. Normally Ghost worked out alone as he did with most things. But he wanted to help you, seeing you so shaken up tugged at something deep inside him.

“That’s it…slow deep breaths. One…two… exhale three. Very good.” He coaches. He looked to be very familiar with this sort of thing, you wondered if he’d dealt with this before. Ghost didn’t seem like the type to deal with anxiousness, he was always so cool headed.

“I’m good now.” You huff.

“Are you sure? We can go somewhere more private.” Your face heats up at his word choice, you remember the wet dream from just nights ago.

“N-no I’m fine, I still have a few sets to do.” You slide your elbow from his grasp.

“Then let’s do it… I assume your next set is pull ups and judging by your size, you usually have Maya help you up?” He hypothesized walking behind you to examine the bar.

“Yeah Maya always lifts me up-“ your words are cut off by his strong hands sinking into your waist. His fingers press into the soft plush of your hips, the crotch of his cargos rubs against your ass. His eyes fall low as he stares down at you, his thumb absentmindedly drawing circles. You don’t speak up, getting lost in the comfort of his touch. The rush of his heart vibrates through your back, the rise and fall of his chest quickens. You can hear the heaviness in his breath, the heat in his mask makes sweat bead at his brow. This isn’t the first time your bodies have met this closely but somehow this felt…Different. You snap to the reality that there is a room full of people here witnessing this moment. That idea made you focus on the initial goal…pull ups.

“I’m ready.” You assure, jumping as he hoists your body up with ease. Your fingers begin to slip, ghost bounces you up, allowing you to readjust the grip.

Even with the extra help, your arms burn as you pull the entirety of your weight up and over the bar. Your chin taps the cool metal marking one successful rep, ghost pats your thigh.

“Good job, make sure you’re breathing with each pull.” He instructs, his arms squish the fluff of your upper thighs. You nod, extending the length of your arms preparing for the next pull. Ghost is painfully aware of how your ass is pressed against his upper chest. His face is inches from the smooth damp skin of your back, his eyes track the small trickle of sweat that runs down your spine. He says a silent prayer, begging not to get hard in front of his subordinates. Even the slightest touch of your body drove him fucking mad, he’d been attracted to women before but never like this. Those thoughts were always intrusive and fleeting, he didn't let his mind wander too deeply but you…he imagined ripping those mauve pink leggings open and ramming every solid inch of his cock inside you. He hated how much control you had over him without even trying.

“I-I can’t take anymore” you groan, feeling the intense burning sensation growing in your arms.

Oh come on, he thinks. You couldn’t have chosen a better word choice, a shock shoots up his leg activating his dormant member. He nearly drops you as the mirror shows him a glimpse of his hard dick poking through his gray sweatpants. He couldn’t let you see him like this, before you could blink your feet were on the ground and ghost was B lining it to the men’s locker room.

“Hey wait where are you going?!” You call as he scurries away. He doesn’t turn around or even answer as he disappears into the white locker room door. Well that was rude, you think. You were used to him treating you like some kind of germ but this seemed off and you couldn’t put your finger on it.

There still hadn’t been any sign of Maya since earlier in the weight room, a sinking feeling pulls at your stomach. It wasn’t like her to just up and disappear without saying a word . The military base wasn’t the biggest in the world so there weren't many places she could have gone. Your eyes scan the mess hall landing on the table you two usually shared. Empty. No sign of her at all, you begin to worry what would keep her from eating lunch. Lunch is Maya’s favorite time of day apart from breakfast and dinner, this was strange. You look at the lunch line and physically cringe when you see that ominous brown paper bag with your name on it. It wouldn’t bother you one bit if you never saw another peanut butter and jelly ever again. You snake through the crowd and head toward the exit deciding to go search for her, it’s what she would have done for you. Just as you burst out of the sea of soldiers there is a deep voice bellowing down the long tan hallway.

“Y/n” a voice rumbles in the distance. Loud heavy footsteps shake the ground as König jogs in your direction.

“I didn’t see you in the mess hall, have you eaten already?” His words are rushed and nervous.

“No I haven’t, I was actually going to-“ he chimes in disregarding the rest of your sentence.

“That’s perfect! I wanted to invite you to have lunch with me.” His voice sounds energetic.

“Well I was just about to go look for Maya…” you trail looking around trying to spot her.

“Oh I saw her a few minutes ago when I was walking past the infirmary.” He says. The infirmary should have been the first place you looked, Maya did tons of overtime with Dr.Bradshaw. Extra hours counted as field work for her university grade, but overworking wasn’t always a good sign for her. You take a mental note to ask her later not wanting to disturb her study time with the Doctor. There was a nagging urge to ask König exactly what she was up to when he saw her but you decided not to snoop. If there was an issue she would come to you about it, you were always there for her and she knew that…or at least you hoped she did.

“Oh okay then I’ll just talk to her later thanks.” You spin on your heels ready to jog back to the cafeteria. A leather gloved hand entraps your wrist, holding you still. Your head whips around staring up into his forest green eyes, they dart back and forth searching your face.

“I’m sorry, I-I uh did you have plans for lunch today? If so I completely understand…I know you might still be worried about Maya.” His voice is shaky.

“No I don’t have plans for lunch, ugh I’m the one who should be sorry I almost blew you off just now. What kind of friend am I?” You joke. His chest tightens at the word friend, he drops your hand back to your side. It catches your attention but you breeze by it not wanting to cause any damage.

“I’d love to have lunch with you König.” You say enthusiastically trying to salvage the situation.

“Perfect. Let’s go, try to act normal.” He nods in the directions of the exit motioning you to follow his lead. You had a feeling this was going to be another mission impossible, König mixed with the words “act normal” never turned out good. Since the recent feud with ghost he was more rebellious than ever. You cautiously walk behind him trailing him out of the double doors, the sun beats down on your skin. Your eyes squint from the sudden lighting change, your hand lifts to shade your forehead blocking out the brightness. Las Almas Mexico was a beautiful mountainous place with endless desert views. There were small cities with an economy based on agriculture and farming. Like every major metropolitan region there are city areas for entertainment and tourism. The base was quite a distance from those areas, the deserts granted seclusion. Most of the drug activity and gang violence originated in the city areas. Although there were plenty of small gangs they all worked under the one major crime organization in the city…The Las Almas Cartel. The whole reason for your special forces deployment was to monitor and take down this organization. They participated in egregious crimes against the residents of Las Almas and helped push the drug epidemic throughout multiple countries. You walk forward,your shoulder brushes his arm ever so slightly. His eyes shift away with embarrassment, he hadn’t touched you since that night. People chirp hello’s as you slip through the ocean of workers, there were so many familiar happy faces in the crowd. You are grateful König is by your side or all the attention could have become overwhelming very quickly. It warmed your heart to be loved by so many but it became exhausting, always chasing approval from others.

König senses a shift in your mood, boldly, he rests his big hand on your lower back; ushering you along. He leads you to the vehicle repair and storage shed. There are lanes wall to wall filled with earth toned military vehicles ranging from Humvee’s to M113’s.

“Oh hey y/n! What are you doing all the way out here darlin’?” His southern twang is thick. The dimples in his cheeks deepen as he smiles toothy and big. His giant veiny hands stain the white cloth as he wipes away black sludge.

“Hey Jack, I hope we didn’t interrupt your work.”

“You could never bother me y/n seeing you is always a treat. Speaking of treats, where’s ol doll face Maya I haven’t gotten my daily fix of her.” He laughs. Jack was a flirt that was no secret but everyone knew about his unrequited love for Maya. Most people found her attractive but Jack’s feelings were public, making sure to scare off anyone who thought about making a move. They were just like an old married couple, arguing about any and everything.

“She’s working in the infirmary.” You explain.

“I’m gonna have to go and pay her a visit, she can’t run forever.” Wrinkles form at the corner of his eyes as he smiles ear to ear.

You can’t help but cheese at his friendly face. König didn’t appreciate Jack's lingering gaze. His eyes slit with annoyance, why were you smiling at him like that? He thinks burning with jealousy.

“I’m taking a Jeep on patrol.” He stated plainly.

“Sure thing, I’ll just need to see that authorization letter from the sergeant.” He says wiping the oil from his cheek.

“I am your Colonel. I grant myself authorization.” His arms fold over his chest as he stands tall and confident.

“But the sergeant said-“ Jack starts.

“Unless you want to be scrubbing toilets for a week I suggest you give me the keys. If not, I’ll just have to report you for interference with a mandatory patrol. Are we clear?” His voice is stern. You find yourself gawking at him. his power had you melting in his gloved palm. König didn’t like abusing his power but there was no way he’d go beg ghost to allow him to take you out. If he wanted you to himself he would make that happen at any cost. It didn’t matter who he had to step over as long as he got to be with you. Jack stares him down for a moment weighing out his options, he could either disobey Ghost and get punished or disobey König and get punished. Great choices he think’s sarcastically.

“Look, if you’re gonna take her out you gotta be back before sunset or else ghost is gonna be on my ass…deal?” He extends a hand to König.

“Deal.” He takes his hand firmly.

“Here I just did an oil change on her so she’s the best I’ve got right now. I’m still repair’n the others.” He tosses him a set of Keys with a dog tag attached. König nods, throwing his black duffel bag in the back seat. You never understood the idea of jeeps being doorless but as you hop in it makes a little more sense. If you’re being shot at you could literally jump right in. You chuckle at the ridiculous thought of you diving into a moving jeep.

“What’s so funny?” He asks, clicking his seat belt and cranking the ignition.

“Nothing, it's dumb.” You laugh tugging the seat belt over your chest. He chuckles backing out of the garage. His arm lays across the back of your headrest as he looks behind him making sure no one was there. Your thighs clench at his focused body language, how did he manage to turn you on with such mundane tasks. The car whips around, he straightens the wheel and puts the gear in drive.

An armed soldier from the gate walks up to the driver's side scoping out the inside of the car.

“Colonel. Where are you headed?” He salutes.

“Me and y/n will be holding a patrol unit on the mountain. There’s been reports of suspicious activity by the locals.” He lies smoothly. The mask came in handy since without it every emotion he felt would be on display. König is, unbenounced to everyone else,a terrible liar. His face gives him away every time. Despite what people think he could be read like a book if it wasn’t for the mask.

“Yes sir. Open the gate!” He calls.

König’s shoulders relax as the metal gates swing open. Mission accomplished. He finally had you to himself for a day. After spotting your workout with the sergeant; he had to find a way to steal your attention back. Your head leans out the door watching in awe as the ground gets further away. The mountain road is bumpy and narrow, your hand grips the seatbelt tightly.

“Scared of heights?” He asks, looking over at you with concern.

“Of course not, keep your eyes on the road.” You scold.

“You know it doesn’t help to look down.” He reaches over, tugging your chin away from the ground. His fingers linger for a second before returning to the wheel. You’d seen this view from the chopper when you first arrived on base but this is a new perspective and it is gorgeous. The cacti bloomed with tiny magenta flowers, the dry soil cracked into interesting shapes. Small animals poke their heads from the grooves in the ground,and Even the sky is clear and vast. If maps didn’t exist you’d have sworn the land stretched on forever. The heat is also comforting, the sun wraps you in a tight embrace kissing your skin. You wished you could see his face, you wondered if he was enamored with the scenery just as you are.

“It’s amazing isn’t it…like a whole new world.” He breathes looking around curiously. One hand gripped the wheel and the other pointed to a viper green snake in the distance.

“Did you see that?!” He exclaims excitedly.

“I did.” You say softly.

He coughs awkwardly, he didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of you but animals are his weakness. He felt an obligation to protect creatures smaller than him, what better way to use his gigantic size. After what felt like an eternity he pulls into an open area at the top of the mountain overlooking the base. He puts the car in park and takes the key from the ignition. You unbuckle your seatbelt, turning your body to hop down; König jogs around the vehicle blocking your path.

“Allow me.” He pretends to open an invisible door.

You jump down and punch his arm playfully. You both laugh filling the open air with joy. He admires you bent over laughing from your gut, a real laugh, that’s when you were most beautiful. He loved seeing happiness radiate from you, you wore it well. He wanted to make everyday a good day filled with bliss, he dreamed of one day being the one to make that a reality for you. He swings his duffel bag out with a huff walking over to a clear patch of land. With razor focus he unzips the bag unloading its contents onto the sandy ground. He lays a green blanket down before laying zip lock bags of mystery foods on to the cloth. To finish off the set up he sets up two colas on either side of the picnic blanket. It was one of the cutest things you’ve ever seen, he plops down in the blanket waving you over. You can’t help but smile at the exquisite dining arrangement designed by the renowned König.

“Beautiful set up chef.” You joke.

“On today’s menu we have the chefs’ choice…Ham and cheese sandwich. My secret ingredient is melted cheese courtesy of today’s weather. Strawberries, hand picked by me from the local farmers market. And two delicious warm cokes.” Your nose scrunches in disgust, earning a hearty laugh from the colonel. His laugh was like liquid gold, it rumbled deep, shaking your core. It’s a shame others didn’t get to witness this playful side of him.

“Sounds… yummy.” You say snagging a ham sandwich. You unzip the bag and have an experimental bite. To your surprise it’s not too bad, somehow the sun melted cheese worked. Not something you’d have regularly for a snack but the fact that König cooked it, made it taste better. You can’t imagine him moving around the kitchen, did he keep the mask on or take it off? You giggle at the image of him with an apron and mask on.

“You’re always giggling and I’m never a part of the joke.” He pouts.

“I was just imagining you cooking in a cute little apron. Would you keep the mask on or take it off.” You tease.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” He slips his sandwich under the hem of his mask, taking a bite. At this angle the sunlight glows behind you like a halo. König admires how angelic you are, he didn’t understand how someone could look so perfect. There wasn’t a word in any language that could describe your beauty, inside and out you were radiant. A rose blush sweeps his face, he looks away realizing how long he’s been staring. Butterflies flutter in your stomach.You turn away relocating your attention to the incredible view. At this height the wind whips strongly , blowing a cool breeze through the air. You close your eyes tilting your face to the sky, his eyes trail down your neck peering at the steady thump of your vein. He remembers the way you look with your pulse beating out of control;lustful eye low eyes staring back at him. That night you took a piece of him with you, he has never been so needy for a woman in his life. In a metaphorical sense you were a succubus and he would gladly give up his soul.

“God you’re gorgeous.” He breathes. Your eyes widen as you stammer for words nervously.

“W-what, you can’t just say that out of nowhere.” You stutter.

“Should I give you a warning next time?” He flirts.

“You’re always messing with me.” You slap his hand. He smirks loving how you crumble for him. He reaches over to grab the bag of fresh strawberries, his palm brushes the base of your thigh. He slides a berry under his mask, making a sound of approval.

“Mmm. These are really good. Try it.” He plucks a strawberry from the bag, holding it up to your lips.

You’re hesitant for a while looking at the berry in disbelief, he couldn’t be serious. This is definitely not something friends do but you do have a habit of overthinking things. Maybe this is one of those things, it’s just a strawberry, nothing less, and nothing more. You nod coyly, leaning in and wrapping your plump lips around the fruit as your teeth sink in; taking a small bite. His jaw tenses as he fights back the urge to lick the sticky juices from your mouth. With his free hand he lifts his mask, exposing the lower portion of his face. There is an intensity behind his eyes as he slides the rest of your half eaten berry past his blushed lips.

“You’re right, these are…really…good.” You trail as he closes the distance between you.

“Here, have some more then.” He bites another one. His giant hand rests at the back of your neck pulling you closer inch by inch. All thoughts evacuate your mind as his soft breath brushes your lips. He’s so close you can almost taste him. So achingly close that it makes your heart leap right out of your chest. Why was he doing this to you, making you yearn to feel him again. Reminding you of the mind bending orgasms he gave you that night. It wasn’t fair, how could you be friends when he is so irresistible? You can’t. You shouldn’t. You won’t. He brushes his soft warm lips over yours begging for permission, pleading for just one kiss. You did. You’re caught in his net as your lips meld desperately in a symphony of passion. His tongue spreads the strawberry nectar across your taste buds making the kiss intoxicatingly sweet. He shifts onto his knees towering over you, never breaking the kiss. He leans down deepening it, gripping the curve of your hips; a camo clad knee forces through the barrier of your thighs. It’s feverish and greedy, he kisses you like he’ll never get the chance to again. Your back arches into his touch, a loud moan echoes through the mountain as he teases your pulsing clit. The friction was unbearable, it felt good but it wasn’t enough. You wanted, no, needed more. Your pussy quivers as he breaks the kiss to nip at the sensitive skin of your neck.

“W-we can’t. Friends don’t uhn-friends can’t do this.”You pant.

“I want to please you. I didn’t get to show you all of my tricks last time.” He whispers seductively. He pushes you back onto your elbows, clearing the picnic blanket in one swoop of his hand. You stare down at him, your breathing is erratic wondering what his next move will be. Strong calloused fingers work the complicated buckle of your work pants. Soon your pants are not only unbuckled but being slid down the length of your legs. Your chunky black combat boots prevented them from going any further so naturally he removed those too; leaving you completely exposed from the waist down. You couldn’t believe you were letting this happen and in a desert nonetheless. König wastes no time grasping your hips and lifting your pelvis, leveling your pussy with his eager mouth. Your shoulders and head rest on the blanket while your lower half is suspended upward; legs dangling on his hunched shoulders. Even with him leaning over, your ass is still elevated at a staggering height. You’re completely at his mercy, no matter how much you squirm his grip is iron tight. The black fabric of his mask sits on the plush of your mound hiding his face as he kisses your warm lower lips. You couldn’t see anything from this angle and the mask added even more security to his next action. You watch the clouds move up above as he traces the glazed slit of your entrance, your hips buck in response. A quiet whimper vibrates your skin as he tastes you for the first time, the scent of your arousal fills the limited space in his mask. Every breath he took was filled with you, that one lick already had his dick frustratingly hard and throbbing.

“Du schmeckst so verdammt fantastisch (you taste so fucking amazing)” he mumbles into your heat. It’s impossible to hold back any more, his tongue slithers up and down the slippery split of your cunt. The tip of his tongue draws circles around your stiff clit, he nips and sucks at the bundle of nerves making your legs shake. His hands sink into your thighs as he pushes deeper into your delectable pussy. The thick flat of his tongue laps at your labia teasing the wet folds of your outer sex. Your muscles contract as he explores every crevice of your dewy flower, your juices dribble down his chin as he teases the perimeter of your tight hole. You grind up into his face wanting him to go further tasting the deepest parts of your sweetness. His hands release your thighs leaving the heavy lifting to your core strength. Your body shakes as you fight to stay in this position not wanting the pleasure to end.

“That’s it, you're doing so good Schatz(love) you’re going to have to put in some work to cum.” He breathes. His hands tug at your shirt fighting to push it up past your breast. You decide to help him out, lifting your shirt and black bra in one motion; your nipples are stiff with arousal. He rolls your hard peaks between his fingers, teasing and caressing the sensitive buds. Your mouth falls slack as his tongue eases into you, your walls clench as he strokes your inner velvet. A sloshing wet sound fills the air as he fucks your cunt with his long skillful tongue. Your hands fist the blanket as you become overwhelmed by all the sensations. How could something wrong feel so good.

“No no no you can’t cum yet, I am still enjoying my meal.” He reprimands. You bite your lip and stare up at him with pleading teary eyes.

“P-please let me cum, s’to much c-can’t hold it please.” You cry.

“Look at me Prinzessin. Focus on me. Just like that, I’m so proud of you. Don’t give up beautiful. You're taking it so well.” He praises, locking eyes with you. He feels your pussy flutter on his tongue as you fight the urge to drench his face. He sucks your clit into his mouth gently, with a final pull sending you tumbling over the edge.

“I’m g-gonna cum, need to cum fuck-“

Your spent cunt spurts delicious cream all over Königs face, drenching his mask.

“Look at the mess you made. Naughty girl.” He eases your body back to the ground, licking his lips. You lie there twitching, unable to form a coherent sentence.

“Suns going down. We’d better start heading back to base.” He says in a disappointed tone. He wished this day could last forever but that wasn’t realistic. The last thing he wanted to deal with was ghost pulling rank on him again. You nod helping him pack his duffel bag, he smiles as your hands brush when reaching for the same items.

“I had so much fun with you today.” You chat loading the leftover snacks into the bag.

“Me too. We should come back here soon, I’ll pack better lunches next time.” He promises, throwing the bag over his shoulder.

“Everything was perfect. I wouldn’t change a thing.” You assure, swallowing back the feelings of regret. What did this mean moving forward, did you make the mistake of leading him on again? König catches a glimpse of doubt on your face and speaks up.

“Today…never happened. We hung out, as friends.” He pats your head. You smile up at him appreciating his kindness and understanding, he knew you never meant to hurt him. Today was all on him, he took that step knowing what it meant and he’d do it again. He knows you need time to figure things out and he was done being impatient. He is sure about his feelings for you and is willing to wait as long as it takes.

“Let’s go.” He taps your butt as he walks by. You gasp smacking his back in return,trailing behind him to the jeep. He tosses the duffle bag in the back seat, walking around to help you into the car.

You stop in your tracks peering up into his beautiful lush green eyes, his heart thumps rapidly.

“Did you forget something?” He asks.

“No. You’re just…incredible you know that.”

“Y/n I-Get down!” He leaps forward shielding your body as you two tumble to the ground in a panic.

“Ah! Scheisse! I’ve been hit.” He groans, squeezing the oozing gunshot wound. A ringing sounds in your ears from the blast, everything moves in slow motion as you help him limp to the Jeep.

“A fucking sniper. We have to move! Now! Drive” he instructs baring down his teeth, holding back a scream. His leg is on fire, blood spurts between his fingers as he applies pressure. The gas pedal is touching the floor as you push the vehicle as fast as it’ll go. Your fist beats down on the horn trying to alert the front gate you’re coming in hot. one hand swerves the wheel frantically twisting and turning and the other is on Königs head holding him close as you quick fire words of affirmation.

“It’s gonna be okay, please stay with me. Hang on alittle longer. König? König?! Fuck!” You sob whipping the wheel back and forth making it harder for the snipe to aim. His consciousness begins to fade from the excessive blood loss; the once cream flooring of the Jeep is now a cherry red. His hand goes limp as he faints no longer applying pressure to the wound. He’s fading fast.

“No no no wake up. I know you’re sleepy but stay with me please please König we’re almost there.” Tears stream down your face as you beat down on the horn. The gate is a few feet away, the soldier on guard sees you approaching at 150 miles an hour. He sounds the alarm, triggering the gate to open up slowly. You can’t let up on the speed it’s too late, you have to push it. Any further delay could cost him his life, you slam your foot to the floor giving it all you’ve got. A loud crack slices through the air as you burst through the half opened gate, taking the side view mirrors off in the process. Both feet hit the brakes forcing you to a violent stop. You jump out, yelling for back up.

“Please help me, he's hit! The colonel has been shot! Please he isn’t responding help me!” You scream, wrapping your hands around his calf trying to stop the bleeding.

“Y/n! What happened?!” Maya runs up taking off her shirt to use as a makeshift tourniquet.

“They shot him.” You hyperventilate.

“Who shot him?! Get him to the operating room now!” She barks at the nearby soldiers.

“I-I don’t know…” you sob watching the men carry him away.

To be continued?…

2K notes · View notes

assexpansion · 3 months ago

Note

You asked me to write a story about a girl falling asleep in a special hot-tub at a spa, so how about I ask you this:

A petite girl who's spending some time at her new private pool in her new home, where something occurs, of course granting her breasts, belly and butt of tremendous proportions? I'll leave the details to you, you're a writing genius after all <3

Off The Deep End (18+/Incest/Hyper)

After 8 years of education, 2 diplomas, and a successfully defended thesis, a well-deserved summer break awaited Ariana at her parents' new home. They welcomed their short but high-achieving daughter with welcome arms and began the tour of the small mansion. Their daughter was enchanted by the luxury abode, especially its pool...

Ariana was feeling burnt-out by the last push of studying, so the family's mansion, where she'd be fed and could relax, was like a dream oasis. Then, she noticed the back of her older step-brother Benji's head under the backyard gazebo. Her dream cracked. Her parents encouraged her to chat and catch up with him, noting that he was in charge of preparing the new pool, before returning inside to cook a 'Welcome Home' dinner for their favorite child.

She approached Benji, who was faced away and on his phone with earbuds in. Typical. He never made any effort to be nice to her. So why should she? While Ariana was off making their family proud, Benji had taken the low road of slacking and wasting away his life. The last thing she wanted to do was make small talk with him. It was bad enough that they were related.

"Hey, gues what? Im back! They really went all out with this place, huh?" Ariana said as friendly as possible.

Her eyes flicked to the small screen her brother was looking at.

"Benji... are you... watching porn?"

The distinct figure of a huge-titted, big-bellied, fat-assed blonde woman struggling to sit up from her seat was there, plain as day. Ariana paused in surprise and disgust as she saw the ridiculously proprotioned pornstar from behind Benji's shoulder. The side of his face was expressionless and slightly slackjawed as he watched. Ariana could hear faint, feminine groans from his earbuds with each lurch of her huge body.

"Umm, what the fuck are you watching?" Ariana snapped. "Benji! Im right behind you!" She cried out, stomping her foot down to get his attention.

But Benji made no sign that he had heard her, immersed in the video. He was totally enamored with the triple-extra-large woman on the screen. She was perfect, he thought. Who needed money or school when a clear purpose in life; to serve, worship, and feed a happy, fattened woman was right there? His own daydream was shattered as Ariana ripped the cords out of his head and began yelling in his ear.

"What the hell do you think you're doing watching that out here?!"

Benji's face flushed in embrassment. He raised his hand in admittance, still holding his cellphone with the video playing out loud as he spoke.

"Okay, okay. It's off!"

"God, I'm just so heavy!" It played.

"I didn't think anyone was around!" Benji snapped.

"My stupid fat ass can't even get up!"

"I guess.. welcome back, Ariana." He mumbled.

"I'm such a big, brainless butterball!"

Ariana snatched the device and paused the video. She held the phone to her brother's throat like a knife.

"I've only been here for five minutes and you've already found a way to ruin it." She growled. "Don't let me catch you watching this again."

Benji nodded and gingerly took the device out of her hands.

"Now, how about you get the pool ready so I can start my vacation?" She asked, more of a demand than a question.

The siblings split apart with Ariana resting in a different outdoor seat under the gazebo while Benji gathered the pool conditioners. His earlier cowardice festered into a black anger as he thought about how she had treated him. Ariana was perfect, and he was nothing. It was all he had heard throughout his life. The nerve of that stuck-up little brat. I'll show her, he thought.

Ariana watched as her lumpy step-brother poured a half gallon of pool-aid into the calm water. Unbeknownst to her it was mixed with a large scoop of a secret powder he'd stored away for a special occasion. The pink grains in the white solution slowly mixed into the aquamarine water. Whatever, she deserves it, especially after sneaking up on him. He tested the water with a strip and deemed it safe. Benji hid his knowing smirk, putting on a solemn face as he approached Ariana.

"Hey, so... I'm sorry about that. You're right. That was gross and not cool of me." He said with a sincere tone. "I know we fight, but Mom and Dad just want us to be on good terms with each other. I think they want a little bit of you to rub off on me." He said calmly.

It was easy to lie when you know you've already won, Benji thought. "Anyways, I was going to have the first dip in the new pool, but... would you like to have the honor?"

Ariana was slightly shocked by this more compassionate side of her brother. Maybe he was turning over a new leaf. Wow! And all it took was catching him watching fat fetish videos. Who knew?

"What I saw is going to burned into my mind, but... sure. Thanks, Benji." Ariana said, only gritting her teeth a little.

She swiftly changed into a two-piece swimsuit that showed off her trim body and cautiously stepped down the pool's ladder. Benji sat on the seat nearby, fiddling on his phone as she dove headfirst into the spiked mixture.

"How's the water?" He asked as Ariana surfaced.

"Not bad. Cooler than I thought." She answered, glancing towards him. "Are you looking at more of those videos?"

Benji rolled his eyes. "No."

"I mean, I guess it's okay that you do. It's weird, but everyone's got different tastes. Just keep it to your bedroom, okay?"

"Got it, loud and clear." He said in monotone, trying to go along with whatever she said to act casual.

It was easy to take the high road when he knew that she'd have her just deserts. Ariana treaded water in the shallow end, not quite tall enough to touch the bottom. Unbeknownst to her, Benji's dissolved powder had begun absorbing into her skin the moment she had entered the pool. As it did, the tiny clumping grains collected throughout her small body, stimulating and reforming Ariana from the inside.

"I don't mean to re-open that can of worms, but can I ask why? Like, why do you like those... types of women?." She called out across the quiet backyard.

The flushed Benji had to consider that. However, it was difficult to when his step-sisters' breasts were beginning to fill her swimsuit. The green cheetah pattern was clearly warping, even through the ripples of her twirling arms. His focus dulled as he stared at the B-cup breasts that she had never had before. Mouth slightly agape, he shook to his senses and tried to remember the question.

"Well, umm... I guess it's a, uh... primal thing. You know, like if a woman is big and happy, then that means she's cared for... and can bare children." He said off the fly.

Ariana held the edge of the pool to breathe and considered his answer. Below her elegant nose and dark lips, the tops of two bulges began to rise out of the water. Her C-cups swelled to D-cups in a matter of seconds as the osmotic powder filled the growing woman up. Benji watched her breasts inflate and settle, dropping into fat tits that began to poke out from the sides of her swimsuit as she pushed off and resumed treading water. With each rotation of her limbs, they looked thicker and thicker. Benji needed to talk or do something to stop himself from ogling her.

"Maybe that's where it stems from, but there's more to it. Like, individual preferences." He continued, trying to keep her attention from drifting.

"Fair." She said, nodding with an agreeing raise of her eyebrows. "But, it's, like, so extreme. That woman was what? Four thousand pounds?"

He looked beneath her blossoming breasts to the totally out of character potbelly that was pushing out from Ariana's midsection, making her look a few months pregnant.

"That's right." Benji said. "And I bet that woman in the video makes more than you and me both ever will."

"At the cost of her body, though." Ariana finished wistfully. "But, after six years in school, the thought of cashing out and going brain-dead isn't half bad now that I think about it."

A nagging righteous voice told Benji that enough was enough. His step-sister had already changed more than it would need to totally affect her life. It's already done then, another voice countered. Benji knew their parents had bought this mansion and it's pool on a whim while she was completing her second degree, sure that even if their finances fell apart, the brilliant Ariana would find a high-paying job to support them. Benji rolled his eyes back and saved the thought of her extreme proportions in a business suit. Her chances of being taken seriously with huge H-cups were slim, Benji selfishly thought. Maybe she'd be better at something else.

"Would you ever consider it?" Benji asked, wincing as she slowly swam her much rounder body towards the pool ladder.

"Only if I was desperate" Ariana answered promisingly.

She kicked fattening thighs that wouldn't look out of place on her mom, he thought. In just a minute or less, the powder had turned Ariana into a stacked, plump sex goddess.

"Well, this might be easier than I imagined then." Benji said with a grin as he stood up.

As she reached the ladder and began to pull herself up, Ariana noticed her body felt four times heavier than it was before. Benji walked toward the ladder where his step-sister was realizing just how big she was. Followed by him were their parents carrying the 'Welcome Home' dinner. Ariana flashed him a dead eyed sideways look of cold rage as she looked up from her changed body.

"Oh, you are so dead." She breathed before all of hell broke loose.

#expansion #assexpansion #breastexpansion #expansion caption #breast expansion #caption #ass expansion #giant breasts #weightgain #giantess #This took sooo long to write because I wanted to go off in a million directions and it became dense as hell!

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crxshed-skxlls · 1 year ago

Text

— ❝ Dual Purpose

Masky x fem!reader x Hoodie

Word count: 3k+

Plot: During a surprise home invasion from two strangers (Masky/Hoodie), they can't stop arguing on who is better than the other. Soon, Hoodie hatches the bright idea as you to be the judge...

NSFW tags: Threesome, Exhibitionism, degradation, biting/choking, oral sex (M & F receiving), bondage, rough sex, knife play, dacryphilia, dubcon, tongue piercing, overstimulation

TW warning// physical violence is used once (never again after)

Note: Sequel coming very soon... 👀

You weren't expecting any of this. Well, you didn't expect the bickering persay. Your wrists were tied to uncomfortable zip-ties as you watch as these two strangers bicker like high school children. Though they were definitely contrasting in personality. The masked figure seemed more cautious, calculated, and irritable. The hooded man was the opposite, a slacker and pretty compulsive from the looks of it.

" You know I'm better with handling the possessions, you just deal with her. "

" Tch. Good my ass. Your shit at this. Last break in you tripped and fell on your ass. "

" Quit bickering and do your job, smartass. Just deal with her. "

The mask man growls, gesturing to you. You shiver with fear, not daring to utter a complaint. The other, a hooded man, had threatened to gut you if you made a sound. The creepy smiley face then looked down at you as the Masked man starts walking. It seemed the Masked stranger was more cautious with his work, while the hood slacked off. You noted this from their body language and the way they interacted this past 5 minutes. It wasn't long until the hooded figure looks as the other carefully examines your living room drawers, rustling like he was looking for treasure. Hoodie then looks back at you.

" Do you wanna bet, Timo--? "

" Don't utter that fucking name. You know better than to reveal that, Hoodie. "

The masked stranger whips around and barks with a husky tone. If you weren't so scared for your life, you would think that the man was a tiny bit attractive. Though, you at least earned a name. The name seemed simple enough, "Hoodie" for a hooded stranger. You keep attentive though, watching as the hooded figure cracks a sigh. You clear your throat though, wondering sarcastically if the others name was "Masky or something".

" Why does it matter? It's not like shes going to live another day, Masky. "

Wow. Color you shocked; you got the name right -- but that didn't stop you from shakily whimpering at the words. Not going to live another day rang in your ears as they continued. Masky narrows his eyes, letting out an exhausted sigh.

" What are you playing at? "

" How about we end this debate with a judge? "

At this point, you and Masky seem to tense in a confused glance at Hoodie. You attentively perks up at the word... What was Hoodie playing at? The yellow hooded man seems to chuckle under his mask, tentively fiddling with the knife as he steps forward once. Masky seems to examine the other.

" Now that I got your attention.. I have an idea. "

" Hoodie, I don't have time for your shit ideas. Spit it out. "

" Okay, okay -- jesus. I noticed you have been very tense recently, such as I... Sooo-- "

He interrupts his speech as he steps towards you. Your heart skips a beat as you try to scoot away, but hoodie crouches and catches your face with a gloved hand. Masky's eyes turn towards you and Hoodie with a look hidden under his mask. Hoodie makes you turn your head fully to Masky in a teasing manner.

" What if we let off some steam? "

" Wh-- why-- "

Masky's eyes widen as he catches on the idea. You are left in the dark as the two exchange looks. Masky shuts the drawer, not breaking his gaze. Hoodie snickers, soon turning your head to him. Your face was inches from his as he keeps his hand dug into your cheeks. You grunt at the pain, attempting to move but failing.

" You can't be serious. "

" C'mon.. She's quite a doll, dont you think? I think she would be the perfect Judge. "

You soon catch on to the idea with wide eyes. To start to squirm slightly, kicking Hoodie's leg. Hoodie hisses as he releases your face. He cursed out as he soon kicks back with much more force. The kick lands on your stomach, a pained cry comes from you. The stinging pain causes you to fall over. Masky looks at you, and you lock eye contact. You already had tears well up into your eyes, almost like a hurt puppy. You watch as Masky's throat bobbed as he gulps, breaking eye contact to look at Hoodie. The hooded man glares through his mask at you, making you flinch in fear.

" You don't get to answer yet, bitch. "

" Hoodie, this isn't a good idea. "

" What? Is the ugly duckling chicken? "

Hoodie taunts, making Masky groan at the comment. Masky looks at him, then at you again. The masked man sighs, ruffling his hair in what seemed to be frustration. You shake your head, tears spilling from your eyes as you curl up against the wall. You hopped that they weren't being serious, but at the same time you remained unsure from the two. You feel your stomach bubble weirdly, and not from the painful kick from earlier. Hoodie groans at your cries in a both annoyance and arousal. You peak up to see Hoodie's mask pulled up enough to show half of his face. You examine his tough jawline and his faint mustache. What made you flutter in a weird, sick way was the shit-eating grin on his face.

" So? What's it going to be? "

" ... What do I get in return? If I win. "

Masky cautiously mused, throwing up sarcastic quote hands at the "win" part. Hoodie's grin becomes a wicked smile.

" Now we're talking.. You get bragging rights and a chance to unwind. I mean -- who would let a good doll go to waste like this? She's so pathetic. "

You whine at the comment, causing the two to glance at you. Your trembling, looking up with pleading eyes as you watch the two.

" Please -- "

" What did I say, whore? "

Hoodie growls as he flicks his knife into your sight, his hand going for your face before --

" I'll do it!! "

You yell out as you quickly shut your eyes. You expect a stinging feeling, or a plunge of a foreign object.. However your met with a frozen silence. You peeked an eye open, noticing the two stranger's expressions. Hoodie stopped in place, the knife mere inches from your face as his mouth is slightly agape with surprise. Masky's eyes are wide with the same surprise.

" ... What - What did you say? "

" I - I'll be the judge. Just- Just please don't kill me. "

You stutter and plee with the hooded figure. Shock soon turned into cocky, unadulterated amusement on the man's face. Hoodie slowly turns to Masky with an astonished laugh. His knife lowers from your face as you open your other eye, watching.

" Even better. We got an attractive freakshow to toy with. C'mon Tim, let loose. "

" What did I tell you, Brian.. "

" Hey! Relax. What's she gonna do, kill us? "

Tim and Brian.. Those names echo before Masky-- or Tim steps and joins the other man as he stands. They both look over you, their oogling making you feel small. Hoodie's smirk fades to a smile, flicking his pocket knife shut. Your almost relieved -- until he started speaking.

" Get up. I'll give the honors of Tim going first. "

You quickly attempt to get up, only for you to stumble as your shaky legs betray you. Hoodie giggles like a little boy as he watches you struggle, but Masky's pants tell more than his mask with this situation. You noticed the thick part stick out of his tight pants, revealing just how aroused he was. Hoodie soon turns around, seeming to go shove everything off your living room table. You flinch at the sound, only for Hoodie to motion you over. You pass Masky was you wobble over, his eyes boring into you attentively as he turns. You stop for a minute, making Hoodie's mouth form into a disgruntled line. You open your lips, and with a careful voice --

" I have one- one request. "

You emphasize the one as you speak, hoping that the two wouldn't attempt to silence you. Hoodie takes a moment to think, before sighing with a groan.

" Hhh- what is it? "

" I- I want to see your faces. "

" ... What-- "

The two men incline harmoniously, but you quickly intercept anything after that. You utter a wait as you step closer, your lips quivering slightly in nervousness.

" You want me to judge, right? We- Well I want to be able- able to judge you both thoroughly... "

You explain with a harsh breath. Your brain screamed against your actions-- logic telling you that you were insane for the request. Though, your body and fluttering adrenaline said otherwise. The two men exchange looks, only before looking at you again. You stand there as you hear Masky's footsteps, shivering as he stands behind you. Hoodie grins slightly. Your face flushes a pale pink, your tied hands balling into fists as they continued to stare.

" You really are a freak, huh? "

" mm-- mhm.. "

" ... Fine. "

" Do I get a say in this?? "

Masky scoffs, obviously defensive of his mask. Though, Hoodie takes off his mask. Your eyes widen as you lock eyes with Hoodie. He cocks an eyebrow, smirking at the small reaction.

" Tim, C'mon. It's not that bad. "

" No. "

He sternly replies, shoving you towards the brunette. You struggle to catch yourself, stumbling as you attempt to stand straight. Hoodie sighs with a tsk, taking you by the shoulders and moving you to sit down on your wood table. You look up at him, his smug look making you red in the face. He laughs at you, not even Noticing Masky next to you both.

" God, your a whore. Getting all hot and bothered by two strangers? Though, I'm flattered. "

He degrades you as he takes steps back. He looks at Masky, a grin on his stubble face. Masky looks on as Hoodie maneuvers on the other side of the small table, sitting on your sofa.

" Go on, you can start the show. Show us what you got, big boy. "

" Don't ever call me that again. "

Masky cringes by the taunt, only to get in front of you. His tall stature makes you more wobbly, watching as he takes off his gloves. He throws them on the floor, soon snaking a hand under your shirt as he stares into your eyes. You tense at his rough, calloused hands as you watch. Hoodie carefully watches. Masky seems to hesitate about something, only before going to your ear.

" Close your eyes. "

Masky whispers in a hushed voice. Your eyes narrow a little bit in curiosity before you feel Masky's hand rubbed your love handles. You finally take a breath as you look at the stranger.

" What? "

" Close your eyes. If you want more, close your eyes. "

You couldn't tell if this was a hint for consent, or he was genuine about it. Either way, you cautiously close your eyes. He seems to reward you with your compliance, hearing the sound of plastic drop to the table and Masky giggles. You gasp as you feel a nibble on your earlobe, sending tingles of weird pleasure down your body.

" Good, Good... Keep them closed until my say, understand? "

" What are you whispering about? Get on with it. "

Hoodie whines, but Masky ignores him. You nod in understanding before you feel Masky take off your shirt. You keep your eyes closed as you shiver at the feeling of lips on your neck. You can hear the faint sound of a click noise, and it seems to irritate Masky as he mutters out something between kisses. You dont dare open your eyes, but you are wondering what Hoodie is planning.. Or at least doing. Your thoughts are interrupted though as Masky takes off your shirt, the cold air of the room hitting your hot skin. Masky pushes you on the table, causing you to let out small gasp. You were now in your black, laced bra you always wore around the house. You hear Hoodie let out a hushed moan, making you want desperately want to see what he is up to. Masky continues his work, and you open your legs for him as his tongue dragged along your neck and his hands guide to your bra. You hear Hoodie stifle a rough groan, before letting out a whitty snicker.

" What a great show, Tim. Smile for the camera~ "

" Fuck off. "

" Wooah, didn't mean t-hah- to piss you off."

His teased tone comes out with a coo, and Masky growls onto your skin. You get a sick feeling knowing that you're being recorded, but you cant help to think about how Hoodie looked sitting there. You moan as you think about the bead of sweat on Hoodie's face dribble down as he palms his pants, holding his camera steadily to the scene as he watches. Your snapped out of it as let out another gasp as Masky lifts your bra up, exposing your tendered breasts. Your nipples were already hardened, and Masky let's out a soft grunt. You hear the sound of Hoodie getting up, the sofa creaking as he does. You tense up, moaning as Masky licks one of your nipples. You feel Hoodie bend down in front of you, and you bite your lip as Masky bites your nipple softly. You can feel Hoodie's hot breath as he chuckled, which made your core throb with neglect.

" Your enjoying this huh? It takes a special type of sicko to like this type of thing."

" You �� haah- you like it too though. "

You sputtered out defiantly, making Masky let out a snicker of his own. Hoodie seems to pause, his hand tightly gripping your hair with a huff. He keeps your head up as you spill moans, only before yelping out as Masky bites your breast, feeling the sting as Masky sucks a mark onto you. Hoodie grunts watching you spill your moans out for them. It came as a surprise though as Hoodie pulls you into a kiss. You gasp, giving him time to shove his tongue into the kiss. Your pleasantly surprised as you feel the silver trinket in Hoodie's mouth, processing a tongue piercing. You moan into his moan as he groans in yours, Masky's eyes boring into you both as he pops off your chest with a slick pop. You feel hot as your body flares with pleasure, bucking your hips with want as you moan into Hoodie's mouth. Hoodie smirks in the kiss before pulling away. You feel a string of saliva break as he wipes his mouth. Masky starts to softly kiss down your abdomen. You hear Hoodie mutter suckup– only before turning his attention back to you.

" Do you want more? "

" Mmn – yes ! Yes I do– "

" Really now? What's the magic word. "

You groan at the extent of Hoodie's teasing. He snickers at you, only before bringing a hand to one of your breasts. You let out a whimper, feeling him squeeze the tender piece of flesh. You let out a harsh moan as you feel Hoodie press on Masky's marks on your chest. You gasp as you feel your pants and undergarments tugged down, revealing your wet cunt below. Hoodie chuckles at the sight, clicking his tongue. You feel as Masky teases your body, making you let out a whimper as you buck in the air.

" Pl- please– "

" Oh? Please what? Speak up slut. "

" Mmn- more ! Ah, fuck– "

" Hmmn, good girl. "

Hoodie laughs at your pleas between moans as you hear the faint ziip of a zipper. Masky watches, observing your pretty cunt as it clenches to nothing. You can hear Masky panting, letting out small grunts as he ghosts his hands on your thighs before giving them a squeeze. You let out a groan, wiggling as you plead with the man in front of you. You feel your mouth salivate, drool dribbling down your chin.

" Heh – you hear that Tim? She so desperately wants it shes - hng- drooling. Won't you help the poor girl out? "

Hoodie pleas with a snicker, and Hoodie surprisingly obliges. You suck in a deep breath, gasping as you feel Masky's fingers slide between your folds. You moan out as he touches your swollen clit, finally opening your eyes. Hoodie gawks at how you look, sweat clinging to your red face as you tremble on the wooden surface. Though you can't help but eye his camera, aimed down at your cunt as Masky plays with your folds. The next thing you noticed made your heart stutter. Hoodie's manhood was present in front of you, thick and throbbing with neglect. His rendered veins pop out slightly, and he was definitely more average. Hoodie's face reddened as you drool over his dick. Masky doesn't comment as you peacefully open your eyes, but you gasp as he starts to lick at your folds, making you gasp.

" T– Tim!! FucK– "

You choke out loud, causing Masky's grip to tighten on you. Hoodie scoffs, continuing to eye you both as he aims the camera to your face. Hoodies statement earlier was definitely a lie. Ugly Duckling your ass, the way Masky's harsh eyes preyed upon your reactions made you already want to come. Hoodie watches with a groan as you then return your attention to him, your eyes dilated with want and need.

" Fuck.. You really are a cockslut, huh? C'mon, I got you help.. "

Hoodie breaths, aiming his dick to your lips. You moan out as Masky laps up at your wet folds, teasing your clit with wet circles. You look up at Hoodie with a heaving chest, watching as his smug face soon turns into a lustful need.

" .. Now help me, doll. "

Hoodie whimpers – whimpers out as you finally open your mouth with a hunger. Your tongue swirls around the tip of his penis, making him let out a sigh of relief as he pushes into your mouth. Your moans vibrate on Hoodie's cock as Masky inserts his tongue into your cunt, his nose pressed onto your labia as he slurps up your fluids. You feel your body grow hotter as you squirm and tense, arching your back in pleasure. Masky's moans dont help as they vibrate into you, making you loose some of your thoughts. Hoodie smirks as you squirm, groaning from the vibrations to his manhood. He soon bites his lip, shoving more of his cock into your mouth with a tight squeeze. You choke, but don't gag. Hoodie is pleasantly surprised that you dont have a gag reflex, causing his dick to twitch in satisfaction. He continues to throat fuck you through your high, you shaking and trembling as your suffocated. Soon, you come onto Masky's face, the brunette desperately lapping and drinking the sweet fluids you gave him.

" Good girl. "

You hear Hoodie breath, thrusting in your throat before pulling out. You gasp and choke for air, letting out a loud whine as Masky plays with your clit. The stings of overstimulation makes you arch more in broken moans and whimpers. You babble before Hoodie quickly shuts you up, shoving his slick cock back into your mouth. Masky grunts, his moans stuttered as he stands. He comes onto you with a growl, panting as slick white ropes on your thighs and cunt. You choke on Hoodie's length as he facefucks you, moans and grunts spilling out of him. He babbles, muttering praising remarks with subtle degrading terms. It was long until he let's out a drawn moan, burying himself all the way in the back of your throat. You spasm as you come with him, for the second time. He covers his sticky ropes down your throat, pulling out. He quickly keeps a hand covering your mouth, his eyes narrowing at you.

" Swallow it. "

He sternly muses, in which you shakily swallow his juices. He groans watching your throat Bob as you swallow, letting his hand release your mouth. The room is filled with panting, harsh breathes, and the stink of sex in the air as you three catch your senses. You feel your body hot and bothered, covered in different fluids as your head spins with a small headache. As you all start to get your sense, Masky is the first to speak up with his gruffed voice.

" So… Who is better? "

" Why is that even a question? I'm obviously the best. "

" Zip it. You're not the one that made her scream your name. "

The two banter on as you think for a moment. Your body is heavy as you watch the two argue. You groan, wiggling as you get up from the table. You feel yourself peel off the wood from the slick sweat. The two silence at once, anticipating your answer. It wasn't long until you giggle, which turned into a mused sigh.

" I don't know.. I might need a round two. "

" What!? You can't possibly– "

" I'll do it. "

Masky happily obliges, leaving Hoodie at a loss of words or taunts. He pauses, mouth agape before turning into a disbelieved chuckle. You watch as Hoodie silently clicks his camera off, plopping it on the table. Masky's eyes are full of delirious lust, and Hoodie swears he's never met such a freak like you. Something in you tells you that you are in for a loong day.

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bbokicidal · 1 month ago

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Slashers - OT8 [SKZ]

Disclaimers : Just a small post I thought would be fun to make. Also - this is all just for GOOD FUN for the month of October and spooky season. These killers are nasty and awful and we all know that - I am in no way saying the Stray Kids members are represented by these slashers (who are fictional characters remember) and I do not mean to say 'they're exactly like these awful people.' because that's just dumb. Don't go thinking that now. C'mon. Common sense.

Warnings : None really, just horror movie slashers included

If you want a part two of the members as other horror movie characters (maybe finals girls/guys or more recent characters?) lmk!

Bangchan : Michael Myers [Halloween]

Honestly mostly just picked this because of his physique and the way I am so wildly attracted to both of them. But I also just think Chan's got that Lowkey scary dad stance down. Also the way he stands back to watch others. Yes, I know it's lovey dovey towards the group but imagine him as Michael just stalking the others?????? (Why's it kinda hot,,,)

He'd spent months planning his first attack. Hours standing, staring, figuring out the habits and movements of his younger friends until he had all of their mannerisms in his head - memorized like the veins in the back of his hand. He knew who was the weakest link. Who he shouldn't target. Who would be easy to mark off the list. Jisung just had back luck being the first name he put down on his notepad.

Chan as Michael Myers, my beloved.

Lee Know : Billy 'Ghostface' Loomis [Scream]

The actually scary one who's full of determination and purpose. The one who actually gets the job done. The one who does it and does it well. Also, wildly sexy. So. I think Minho fits Billy Loomis best because he can be cunning, secretive, but also charming and wild at the same time. We love him.

Minho wasn't stupid - not like his accomplice. He let Jisung distract people - be the life of the party while he himself lured Felix out to the garage to get a beer or two. He dismissed himself, saying he forgot something in the house, before coming back only to find Felix frightened at first sight and scrambling to escape the outer part of the home. And he felt little remorse as he watched Felix try to squirm out through the doggy door - his thumb clicking the switch to make the garage door slowly raise.

Minho as Billy Loomis, hehe.

Changbin : Pyramid Head [Silent Hill]

Not a 'classic slasher' because he's not the main villain of the story but EASILY the best pic for Changbin because WHEWIE those arms. Also?? Changbin dragging around a giant knife and just picking people up by their necks? Good GAWD. Pyramid Head Binnie (shirtless,, Binnie,,,,,) is a need for me.

He was just there - existing. Wandering. Dragging his knife around until the ground cracked and broke under the weight as he walked. He was just... there. Until someone appeared - a pretty boy with long brunette hair that fought for his life in this hellhole of a place. Someone for him to wander after. Someone for him to target.

Changbin as Pyramid Head <3

Hyunjin : Chucky [Chucky]

Honestly mainly just picked this one because 1) Hyunjin as a doll would be wild lol, and 2) Hyunjin who looks so cute and precious and like a normal man at first but ends up being a wild fucking mass murderer?? That would be,, actually so fitting because he's such a cutie at first and then gets on stage and it's like WHOHOAH--

Finding his soul trapped in the body of a doll was the last thing he wanted to happen after his death - but Hyunjin found that this doll was a lot more flexible than he expected. He could curl his fingers, move his eyes, talk even. It was just like his body before - only harder to break, and a lot... smaller.

Anyway, Hyunjin as Chucky. Also red hair Hyunjin supremacy, I said what I said.

Han : Stu "Ghostface" Macher [Scream]

The silly one that keeps messing up. The one who works hard but still somehow fumbles it. The one that needs help. The one who really got roped into it just because he's massively gay for his best friend.

After botching another murder and making a pact with his friend to frame the girl for their killings, Jisung dug the blade into his friend before Minho did the same. He clutched his stomach and fell to the counter, only moving to grip the phone as it rang just beside his head. He sobbed out another gasp that his parents would be so disappointed in him - another babble from Jisung that Minho didn't have time to deal with.

Jisung as Stu Macher, aka the gay icon of the scream series, everyone.

Felix : Tiffany Valentine [Chucky]

Definitely did not pick this bc of his hair. (oops) Anyway. Just there for the shits n giggles, does it for the person he loves and adores so dearly. Didn't even initially mean to be a part of it but got pulled into it somehow anyway lol. Also an absolute baddie.

How'd he get here? He wasn't too sure. What he did know was that he was glued to his best friend for the rest of his life now, trapped in the small but definitely not fragile bodies of dolls for eternity. He was happy to be there, if he was honest, just enjoying being everlasting with someone he adored. Even if he was put into the body of a ... woman? Well. Doll-Woman.

Felix as Tiffany Valentine. ~

Seungmin : Jason Voorhees [Friday The 13th]

Seungmin as a reoccurring character who experienced nothing but tragedy in his past and now comes back to his place of 'death' every year to haunt people who get so much as a fucking mile from him. LOOOOVE this idea. Love the image of Seungmin just hovering around a Summer Camp and lurking like a little creeper. Also Seungmin with a machete is too much for me, cannot. I gotta go.

Seungmin enjoyed lurking around the camp if he was honest. He found himself feeling joy in watching the camp-goers wander around so clueless as to the tragedy that occurred in the waters they swam in, playing and having too much for his liking. No - He didn't feel joy in watching them have fun. He felt joy in hearing their screams the following night when he made them aware of his presence; when he showed them the truth that lay in the grounds of that poor Summer Camp.

Seungmin as Jason Voorhees. ;))

I.N : Pennywise [IT]

Not a classic slasher yet again BUT one of the best in my personal opinion. (It's one of my fav horror movies so.) I think Jeongin fits Pennywise because of his teasing nature, the way he finds it funny when he irks his hyungs, etc. I also think he has a relatively short -- temper? Temper might not be the right word. Maybe patience is right. He's impatient and if he doesn't get what he wants, he'll snap. Also the idea of shapeshifter Jeongin?? Torturing people by showing up as their literal living nightmares? Yum yum yum.

Jeongin was hungry. Starved, even. Twenty seven years after falling into a slumber, he'd awoke under a quaint town that offered up so many delicious meal options - which included a very pretty man more muscular than the others - who, conveniently, was a bit of a scaredy cat.

Jeongin as Pennywise !!

Taglist : @dwaekkicidal @jabmastersurpriseee @possum-playground @thatonedarkskinnedsiren

#stray kids #stray kids fic #stray kids imagine #stray kids headcanons

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buckysgrace · 25 days ago

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Don't Be Afraid

Gator Tillman x fem!reader

Kinktober 2024

Gator and you make a little bet.

CW: Predator/Prey, CNC, bondage, degradation, spitting, unprotected sex, blowjobs, gun/knife play, semipublic sex, choking. Reader is referred to as bunny.

You were in the midst of a game. A very intense and stressful game.

And you were losing.

Your bunny outfit had indeed been a bad idea, your ears flopping around and the straps were growing annoyingly tight along your shoulders. You hadn’t worn the right shoes either, or a jacket. Goosebumps covered your skin, your shoulders frozen from the way the wind kept whipping around.

Maybe it would be worth losing.

“I can hear you, little bunny.” His voice rang through the old barn as planks of wood rattled around in the fall breeze, moonlight creeping in through the cracks as you pressed yourself down deeper into your hiding spot.

You pressed your hand over your mouth over how outrageous the whole game was. Part of you wanted to burst into laughter at how serious he was taking this, the other part of you was a bit scared. In a good way. He sounded serious, intense. You liked it.

“Where are ya, mama?” His voice was raspy and deep as his boots stomped against the floorboards. You bit down on your bottom lip, trying to ignore the rush that spread through your body.

You felt your heart hammering roughly inside of your chest, wincing as you slowly began to crawl forward on your knees. The barn seemed to be swaying in the wind, creaking underneath the weight of the draft.

You were silent as you lost the noise of his boots hitting the floor, your eyes drifting back and forth in the dark as you slowly moved your head forward. Just trying to get a glimpse of where he might be hiding.

“Gotcha,” He proclaimed, gripping you by the shoulders and pulling you back towards him. You wiggled in his arms, kicking your feet and flailing as he held onto you tightly, “Calm down there, bunny. Where do you think you’re going?” He questioned as his strong arms fell against your body, squeezing you.

You squeaked as you continued to try to break free, your lungs feeling tight as you were unable to decide if you wanted to laugh or scream. He quickly brought you down onto your knees, then onto your back as you scrambled underneath him.

You tossed and turned with him, trying to pry his weight off of you as your back fell against the hard ground underneath you. Your fingers dug into his jacket, trying to force him off before he twisted his legs overtop of yours. He gripped your wrists next, squeezing as he brought them down to your sides.

“Stop fighting.” He demanded, his hair flopping over his forehead as he stared down at you. You wiggled around again, noting how dark his eyes looked at the moment.

“No!” You shrieked, trying to kick your legs but having no real movement to them. Your heels just simply fell back against the ground as he fully trapped you underneath his weight. He sat back a bit, looking a little smug.

“S’dangerous,” He warned you, cocking his eyebrows as he moved his hand slowly to the holster on his thigh, “You really want to try that again?” He teased as your body went slack, fully engulfed in your role.

“Sorry,” You breathed out gently, “I didn’t mean it.” You whispered softly, fluttering your eyelashes as you stared up at him. He tilted his head.

“You hurt my feelings,” He mocked as he placed his hand over his heart, “I think you’re a liar.” He accused, making your mind spin. The ground underneath you was cold, soothing the warmth that was forming in the pit of your stomach.

“I can fix it.” You promised, giving him a reassuring nod of your head. You felt an uneasy feeling growing in your stomach as he wrapped his fingers around his gun, pulling it free a second later.

“Why don’t you give it a little kiss?” He teased, looking pleased as he held the pistol out towards you, “C’mon. She won’t bite.” He tsked, grinning from ear to ear as he looked down at you. You didn’t really have a choice as your body was still captured by his strong legs. You opened your mouth slowly, greeting the gun gently.

You circled your tongue across the end of his gun, inviting the feeling of the cool metal against your lips as his brown eyes widened in interest. You kept your features relaxed, trying not to show off how confident you felt suddenly.

You relaxed your jaw, doing your best to push the end of his gun into your mouth. His little groan spurred you on, confirming that he was enjoying this just as much as you thought he would.

“You’re a little whore, you know that right?” He questioned you as he slowly pulled the gun away, leaving a trail of spit that connected between your mouth and the weapon. You felt your lips pulling into a smirk, about to respond but unable to as he made his next move.

You yelped as his knife cut through your little outfit, leaving you exposed to the winter air as the material fell to the ground underneath you. Gator moved his leg off of you, tugging you up quickly by your wrists.

He man handled you as he turned you around, placing you on your knees as he removed the rest of the fabric from your body. You yelped as he roughly tugged you back towards him, ensuring that your ears were still in place on your head and adjusting your tail over your thong.

“Gator,” You breathed out, nipples growing hard from the cool air, “I said I could fix it.” You whined, glancing towards the door in fear that someone may come to check out the commotion. All you needed was for Roy’s creepy men to see you in this position.

He seemed to consider it for a moment as he dragged the flat part of the blade against your skin, then up towards the curve of your boobs. He flicked his tongue out against his lip, looking amused as he placed it across your hardened nipple.

“Who said you can talk, little bunny?” He asked as he gripped your chin with his other hand, cocking his eyebrows as he stared down at you expectantly. You shied away, only to be yanked back closer to him. You fought the urge to move closer, feeling as if his warmth was radiating off of him.

You gasped as he leaned forward, lips puckering as he delivered a glob of spit against the side of your mouth. A little moan left your lips, your clit throbbing from the sensation as you slowly stuck your tongue out to lick it away. It was so dirty, but it felt so right. And you could tell by his smirk that he liked it too.

“What ya want? My mouth? Fingers?” He asked, giving your chin a little shake, “Or maybe you just deserve my boot.” He referenced the times he’d made you rub your pussy across his work boot. In some way it had been humiliating, but you had also come from it.

“I want your cock,” You breathed out deeply, moaning at the feeling of the cool blade against your nipple again, “Please. I’ll be good.” You nodded your head in encouragement, your pussy slick from your lust and desire.

“Alright,” He hummed as he stood, leaving you on your knees, “Show me how badly you want it.” He slowly placed his knife away, waiting expectantly as you crawled forward.

You moved your hands slowly, your fingers shaking from the chill air as you slowly unlooped his belt. You bit your bottom lip, doing your best to conceal your grin as you drifted your fingers across his growing bulge.

He groaned from your movements, filling you with excitement as you unzipped his pants next. Then shifted his boxers down far enough to free his cock, a squeal of delight leaving your lips as the proud way his cock fell out.

“Well?” He peered down at you, apparently not as patient as what you were. You pressed your lips together softly as you wrapped your fingers around his thick girth, giving him a little squeeze before you stroked your hand across the curve of his dick.

You dragged your tongue out against his leaking tip, savoring the taste of him on your tongue. He groaned, slowly fluttering his eyelashes as you stretched your lips around his pink tip. You greedily pushed him into your mouth, relaxing your jaw to push him in as far as he would go.

He bore a tight grip against the back of your neck, his fingers warm as he guided you along his long dick. You gagged each time that his tip hit the back of your throat, your tongue swirling underneath his base. His cock felt heavy against your tongue, pulsing and leaking as you bobbed your head quicker along him.

He groaned as he mumbled something about you being a slut, making your heart race and your clit vibrate from his praise. You liked when he was rough, mean.

Spit gathered at the corner of your mouth as his groans grew louder, his expression wrinkling into pleasure as he licked his bottom lip. You wrapped your fingers around the base of his cock, giving him a little squeeze as he thrusted his hips forward roughly. You gagged again, your eyes shutting with the force of his movements this time.

He yanked you back, leaving your spit to flow freely from your lips and onto your exposed boobs. Your lips were still parted, a whine leaving your chest at the way he pulled away. You wanted to please him.

“Stay there.” He commanded, leaving you to slowly nod along. You didn’t think it would be too fun to wrestle him on the ground now that you were naked. And you were desperate for the feeling of him, the sensation of his cock stretching your slick walls.

A moment later your arms were twisted behind your back, tied roughly by the rope he had taken from somewhere in the barn. You squeaked at how tight it was, but still managed to wiggle your fingers. Not terrible. But he had twisted it underneath and on top of your boobs, making them perkier than usual.

“Look at you,” He grinned proudly as he moved his calloused fingers across your neck, looping the belt across your flesh, “Just like a little pet.” He cooed as he gave the belt a tug, restricting your air flow for a moment.

He pulled you back against his warm chest, your insides burning with pleasure as he spat across your face again. You let out a strained whimper as you let it slide down your cheek this time, staining your skin.

“You alright?” He asked softly as he released his grip on the belt, making your eyebrows furrow as you stared up at him. Feeling like you were in a bit of a haze.

“Did I say the word?” You asked seriously, feeling like meatloaf hadn’t formed on your tongue. But perhaps it had been in your hazy state.

“No,” He replied, grinning a little sheepishly, “I just wanted to make sure.” He added as he softly drifted his fingertips down your cheek. You pressed a little smile to your lips, heart fluttering at his consideration.

“I’m fine,” You told him seriously, accepting the little peck that he gave you, “Thanks.” You added, wiggling a little closer to him so he could continue. He tugged you by the rope, your knees digging into the ground from his actions.

He shoved you forward then, making you gasp as your shoulders hit the ground. You wiggled in your spot, unable to sit up without his assistance. His large hands fell to spine, pressing your head down as he kept your ass raised in the air.

“Awe, poor little bunny stuck in a trap.” He teased as he gave your ass a rough slap, making you yelp as you roughly turned your cheek in hopes to look at him better. Your arms burned from behind your back, entirely stuck.

“What are you going to do to me?” You exhaled roughly, your heart thumping roughly in the side of your neck as he situated himself behind you. He pressed your legs apart, his powerful thighs resting against you.

“Do you not know?” He chuckled as he rubbed his slick tip across your slick folds, “Guess you’re even dumber than I thought. Stupid little whore.” He tsked, making your insides burn with want.

“Not a whore,” You breathed out quickly, trying to recall that you weren’t supposed to be so excited. But you were, especially when he delivered another slap against your ass, “I’m not.” You protested, gaping at the feeling of his tip against your wet hole.

You bit down on your bottom lip, straining as he slowly pressed himself inside of your slick walls. You twisted your fingers tightly together, searching for something to hold onto as he spread you apart. You enjoyed the ache, the intense feeling of his cock gliding inside your cunt.

“Little bunny is enjoying this more than she said,” He hummed as he pressed his finger against your clit, making you coo, “You’re soaked, bunny. Feel her leaking over my cock? Your tang feels so good.” He teased as you numbly nodded along.

He gripped the ropes to drag you back along the curve of his cock, chuckling at the easy way he was able to move you. Your body felt limp, trembling with pleasure and lust as the tip of his cock massaged the spongy walls inside of you.

You swore you saw stars as he roughly thrusted his hips forward, his cock filling your deepest crevices as the burn from your knees and arms slowly drifted away. All you could concentrate on was the way your cunt was squeezing around his thick girth, how every time you inhaled it felt like he was pressing deeper and further into you.

“Dirty whore,” He groaned as he roughly tugged at the ropes, forcing you up onto your knees as a silent gasp fell from your lips. He pressed your back up against his chest, your arms trapped between your bodies as he rutted his cock deep inside of your soaked cunt, “Gonna ruin you, bunny.”

Loud moans rolled off of your tongue before he gripped the rope around your neck, gripping it tightly so only little whimpers and gasps fell from your mouth. Your eyes fluttered in pleasure, lips parting as his cock pressed against your bundle of nerves.

Your body twitched as he released his grip on your neck, your throat straining as you did your best to grind back against his thick cock. Your toes curled in awe as electricity bubbled in your veins, your cunt aching around his girth. The sound of your bodies meeting filled the barn, dirty and filthy as he groaned in your ear.

His hands fell to your neck again, squeezing as he roughly dragged you back along the curve of his cock. His grunts were loud and lustful, mingling with your whimpers and cries. You felt some drool falling from the corner of your lips, sloppily falling down your bare chest.

“You’re so fucking good for me, bunny,” He grunted as he slid his teeth against your neck, making you coo in response. You could feel the muscles in your stomach clenching, tying together tightly as the pleasure grew more intense.

“So close,” You spit out for the first time, whining and crying as you desperately rocked yourself back against his cock, “Don’t stop, don’t stop!” You begged, pleading as you feared he would tease you again. You didn’t want him to stop, not ever. You were so close.

“S’okay,” He reassured as his lips fell against your neck, his tongue hot as he licked where your heart was pulsing, “Cum for me, pretty bunny.” He encouraged as he moved his fingers back between your legs, rubbing your clit softly.

Your thighs clenched, trembling as a loud cry left your lips. You shook around him, cunt clamping down around his cock as your high crashed over you. Everything burned as the lust intensified, your pleasure turned electric.

“Gator,” You moaned as you slowly rocked back against him, savoring the way he continued to rut against your g-spot, “Feels so good. Fuck.” You felt your head lull back against him lazily, your mind still hazily as he gripped you tighter.

“Fuckin’ hot,” He groaned as his nose brushed against your neck, his groans loud in your ear as he snapped his hips forward harder, “Your tang is so fuckin’ tight, so fuckin’ wet.” He spit out mindlessly, making your eyes roll back as he pressed down against your abdomen tightly.

He bottomed out against you, balls pressing against your skin as he came with a gruff cry. You felt your eyelashes fluttering at the sensation, enjoying the feeling of his cum painting across your slick walls. You moaned as your toes curled, gasping as your heart hammered roughly in your chest.

“God,” He whined as his chin fell against your shoulder, a little laugh leaving his lips, “You’re incredible.” He hummed as he delivered a quick peck against your cheek, making you roll your eyes. Words were too hard as you continued to breathe in deeply, trying to get your heart rate back to normal.

He moved slowly, cutting away your restraints first before he pulled his softening dick from your hole. You whimpered at the feeling of your mixture of cum leaking from your hole, trying not to focus on the thought that you’d be walking back to the house solely in your ears and bunny tail. At least it wasn’t fully nude this time.

His hands were gentle as he brushed away dirt and sweat from your skin, giving you a reassuring smile. You supposed he was lucky that he was so handsome.

“How about another round?” He asked softly, voice raspy as he wrapped you up in the discarded hoodie he had brought with him. You took it quickly, still warm but knowing you’d cool down quickly as the chilly wind continued to whip around outside.

“Too tired.” You told him seriously, feeling like your legs and arms were currently made out of jello. You hadn’t felt this weak in a long time.

“I promise it’ll be worth it.” He replied in a sing-song way, making you squint your eyes in interest. You were just slightly drawn to what he was saying.

“What is it?” You asked as you wrapped your arms around your waist, glad that the hoodie was several sizes too big. It was warm, comfortable. And it smelt like him.

“Last one back does dishes.” He responded gleefully, giving your shoulder a little push before he took off. You watched in disbelief, feeling like his head start was totally unfair.

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