#I FUCKING LOVE FLOWERS AND ROCKS
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hi hi !!
how are you? :]
*hands you a bunch of flowers and shiny rocks*
HI GHOST !!! waves at u !!!!!
i think i’m running off of the pasta i had from last night
brain will flop over any minute now
#ask#ty for the ask <3#lovely mutuals#FLOWERS AND ROCKS#I FUCKING LOVE FLOWERS AND ROCKS#i forgot i rid of the fact that i have a rock collection on my pinned post#they may not be pretty to u but they are to me <//3#ty tytytyty ghost#<33
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so does anyone know where i can buy this vase
#he looks even hotter with flowers stuffed in his pants#i love this man so fucking much#robert plant#led zeppelin#1970s#classic rock
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Trying to enjoy the interesting and lore-rich world of Forspoken while avoiding thinking about how it’s most likely never going to be explored or expanded or touched upon ever again 🙃
#the fact that EVERY item every animal every crafting resource every fucking CAT TOY has lore attached to it-#they didn’t have to do that!!#there was so much love and time clearly put into every single lore detail in this game#you’re not just picking random grass or flowers you can read all about the species’ traits and how the corruption of the land has altered-#-the DNA and properties of those plants (and animals and even ROCKS)#and don’t even get me started on the cat logs…I read those all out loud to my family I love them so much#the cat that had to fill in as a judge and they had to throw out most of his rulings bc they were found to be Biased…#the librarian one who keeps getting stuck on tall stacks of books…the harpist who needs a special booster seat so he can play…#trying to enjoy it all for what it is and not for what it Could have been 😭
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ALSO KYAAAAA I HAVEN'T TALKED ABOUT DECO*27 IN FOREVER BUT ROOKIE OH MY GOD . . .??
tbh i haven't been super impressed with nina's recent catalogue — though i'm not one to seriously dunk on him for "all his songs sounding the same" when i genuinely don't care. i just feel songs like volt tackle and blue planet commit the fatal sins of being really boring, and hell i've only recently come around to rabbit hole ( if only because the "love bluh bluh bluh" part is extremely addicting )
BUT ROOKIE AKAIWUEHWJWB the opening with the bass immediately hooked me in. it's been a while since we've had these kinda edgy, high-energy songs from nina and i'm aaaaaall for it. and aaa the song slowly becoming softer to represent her change in behavior is sooo smart !!
ALSO ALSO ALSO the middle bit where miku suddenly switches to english is TOTALLY A HIBANA REFERENCE and it worked like a charm on me. i've been kinda rolling my eyes at the self-referential nature of the recent songs but i loved this one. it shows off nina's growth extremely given the length and complexities of the lyrics, and i'm so happy for him man.
now i'm just hyped for if we'll get a rachie / will stetson cover . . .
#i love rachie and i wished she got her flowers more often than being reduced to “the better alt to jubyphonic”#which like ??? genuinely fuck you i hate people who hate on other cover artists to prop another up you're all awful people#the community is very very small and everyone is friends/admires eachother - in any other place that'd be so inappropriate#“omg i loooove your art i wish you got more attention than x artist you admire” eat rocks#ack sorry started ranting in tags lmao#♡. cinnamon prattles
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miss tinogie what are your top 3 dnf fics? if you don’t mind me asking
what it is (not) to lose by effervescentwolf, all of you, a verb in perfect view by @findinghomes, and but i was always on my way to him by @fooshogie
#HONORABLE MENTION BC I HATE BRIO SO FUCKING MUCH AND IVE BEEN THINKING ABOUT IT SO MUCH FUTURE HISTORY BY IVEGIVENUPONYOU FUCKS SO HARD#another honorable mention you open me like a flower by tippysleeps @tippyslays here bangs i love femdnf#also like the rock bears the weather by tippy#like breathing by crabnap is also good#aya asks#fic recs#ive been slacking on fic reading recently i tend not to read while im writing
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i think as time goes on itll be easier to like the beatles as long as we keep up the trend of younger people not liking them.
#do you know how much easier itd be to accept that they made good music and innovated quite a bit#if i wasnt constantly having them shoved down my throat as THE MOST IMPORTANT BAND TO EVER EXIST#idk from my perspective... they were active in the 60s bro if they didnt exist someone else would have made those same innovations#other people around them were innovating all over the place#and the entire british invasion (which wasnt even just them!!) was built on the forward thinking of black american artists in the 50s#so like. yeah if the beatles didnt exist music history probably wouldnt have been that crazy different#like youre telling me NOBODY else. IN THE 60S. would have made the same steps forward that the beatles did?#like you really think john was this magical being gifted with creativity that invented all these ideas out of thin air???#no. their innovations were because they were active during THE decade of experimenting and making new moves in pop & rock.#people around them were inventing whole new genres and recording styles too smh anyway. its just so annoying.#they were just the most popular and one of the more active groups at the time so a lot of changes were credited to them#(even some of the ones that they didn't actually come up with.)#avpost#anyway. that's my rant. also they didn't even get good until bob dylan taught them to smoke weed.#i also alluded to it before but i don't think the 60s were such a time of innovation bc of them either. tired of that narrative#the beatles were not the only new band doing wildly different things in 1963 the stones crossed over at the exact same time#followed very closely by a lot of other uk bands.#plus like i said these bands were only so different bc they grew up loving black american artists' music .#so... that's the group that was actually innovating. the uk bands wereinspired by THEM. where's their flowers.#and there was tons of evolution in music during the 60s that had fuck all to do with the Beatles or rock at all.#*gestures aggressively to the invention of soul. which affected any and all pop music that came after it*#ive seen it argued that the supremes deserve just as much credit as the beatles do#but as a diehard supremes fan ill keep my opinion on that to myself since im . VERY biased.
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in the power of Noticing Things The Xth Time Around the instrumentals-imitative "doot. doot. doot. dooWAH" vocals that kick in during the second verse of centerfold? superlative
#i've heard the song a fair number of times & always enjoyed it a lot. high energy & fun; a little goofy in great ways in subj & sonic style#it is extremely correct to work w/imitative vocalizations in your music no matter what. put in more. More#(and the Vocal [doot] being on the backbeat as opposed to the Instrumental [doot]....superlative!]#and did i Mention that [verse into chorus] synth line...the drumming underneath it...#even the faux Live Performance psychout ending. a song about a Specific Ass Situation thank fucking god. deserved to chart like that.#also anytime i say Dad Rock i use it fairly neutrally lol. i'm a fan plenty of songs that would qualify; to be more specific#lmao love the instances of [no matter how many ties i hear it i cannot distinguish this sequence into phonemes in a way that corresponds to#words (or words that fit into the context in any comprehensible way)] i.e. went ''okay time to look up lyrics b/c i will always be going:#flowers What about her dress??'' & the line is apparently ''while i was thinking about her dress'' lol love when the revelations of#mishearing are funny like Ah right....and claims it's ''slipped me notes'' rather than ''slipping notes'' but doesn't change too much#being like [i cannot decipher these lyrics] is generally a more fun casual version of ''especial tendency to struggle w/audio processing''#versus like not knowing what tf someone's said in this part in a movie or smthing no matter how many times you hear it#or of course the most A Problem: not being able to parse what's being Spoken in some in-person situation#might be an occasion you can't get anything repeated; might be an occasion where for some reason/s a repeat doesn't even help....#also forever the Idiosyncratic Origin Stories behind [genuine friendships formed when you are autistic] e.g. like yeah one of my good#elementary school friendships? was one where we did parallel play; maybe never or very rarely actually Spoke; our Distracting Each Other#was punished with more of a singular intensity than i ever saw Anyone's ''distracting each other'' interactions....#took years of being at the same job (part time; so not like monday thru friday 9 to 5 Always being there at the same time anyways)#for me & a coworker to start talking & become work friends; then regular friends#their name was angel; so the menace i became when we had such a dad rock station on & these alignments occurred#though i would be engaging in singing along to things in general lol so
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I apologize in advance for the amount of posts about Hisui's plants, their symbology to the inhabitants new and old and their extended medicinal or ceremonial uses that I know I'm about to start and eventually unleash
I will try to be concise 🥲
— Salem FlowerSeller
#Salem FlowerSeller#I can feel the madness consuming me#Down with the sickness that is thinking about flowers and plants and rocks and cool sticks and how people have always loved them#Or decided fuck that kind of flower in particular its vibes are off
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ANOTHER DEATH BY INMOLATION???? ENOUGH!!!!
#really happy about being wrong about oden. normally when you see something is badly written it is true but here oden being alive being bad#writing was a trally a gotcha moment.... well unlike with pell and laki and wiper..... and conis' dad....#ashura....... and kanjuro is still alive...... this man deserves an execution#is this orichi??? the beheaded one was a kanjuro drawing too???? jesus#orichis fruit is a dragon with a lot of heads.... maybe he can regrow them lmao....#omg double hakai.... goodbye my brave soldiers.... ZORO?? ENMA IS A GODSEND YOU OWN ALL YOUR LIVES TO HIYORI....#zoro got hurt and luffy is on the offensive again..... exactly..... YES RED ROCK!!! BUT DON'T MISS!!!#talking tag#watching one piece#episode 1025#oden and kin on a flower field..... okay......#luffy stopping the attack meant for zoro.... oof#kaido's face knowing this was gonna hurt....#kid and traffy catching luffy too..... everybody loves luffy.....#how can luffy just stop kaido's attack like that's insane....#the others attacking big mom... that was such a big brain move.... they made teams here... luffy and then the brains (everyone elseÑ#jesus. that was something else#luffys giggle and smile when kid and tragfy catch him... he is so happy when people are there for him..... he loves fighting with friends :)#episode 1026#OMG GOODBYE BIG MOM!!!! SHE IS IN THE SEA I CANT BELIEVE THIS!!!!!#TRAFFY RATHER LET THE MISSION FAIL THAN ONE OF THEM DIE??? OMG#HOW IS PROMETHEUS IN THE WATER?????? FUCK OFF!!!!#they are bullying zeus lmaooo INTERNAL FIGHTING!! INTERNAL FIGHTING!!!#luffy knocked out and atill looking at kaido again.... ooff#this is insane. luffy just saved zoro and told him he wont need to die and here he goes again. oh this time i migh fr die. take care goodbye#the bleeding... oof THE SCAR JUST AS THE ONE HE HAS.... goodbye zolo..... rip bozo... don't fall like that man..... ass up like sanji...#he got a 2x1 hit..... goodbye law too.... kaido's eye when he notices luffy is up again.... also haoshoku..... i dont wanna look it up.....#nvm is the conqueror's haki.... i do not remember the og names AT ALL#episode 1027
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I just cannot get over the thought of Jason Todd cooing while you take his massive cock, talking you through the pain of stretching you out on it the first time, and giggling at each other from euphoria because of just how much love there is between you two AHHHH 😭
this ask is so good I had to let it marinate in my mind…anon take these flowers I beg 💐
18+ minors dni
★・・・★・・・★・・・★
“jay…” you say apprehensively, trailing off as you bite your lip. your eyes are fixed on jason todd’s huge body hovering above you, and you can hear your heartbeat in your ears. you look down anxiously at his hard cock resting right below your bellybutton and smearing your skin with precum, and instantly avert your gaze. fuck, that’s big.
“I don’t—um…I don’t think it’s…” you trail off, your cheeks burning. despite your nerves, you feel your arousal drooling out of you. he smiles and shakes his head lightly, reaching down to run his fingers over your entrance.
“don’t worry ‘bout that,” he coos, collecting your wetness on his fingertips as you shudder. “look at me, ma.” you tear yourself away from the sight of his length, meeting his stare. “that’s right. just keep lookin’ at me. you’re gonna be fine.”
his hand comes down to pump his cock, spreading your slick onto his shaft as he aligns himself between your legs. after a pause, he sinks the tip in, and you suck in a sharp breath at the stinging in your walls as he penetrates you. he pauses halfway to allow you to adjust to his girth, his brows furrowing at your tightness. shit, you feel good around him. you let out a whine at the unfamiliar feeling of his size, your nails digging into his shoulders.
“fuck…you’re doin’ good, ma,” he says, the muscles between his shoulder blades tensing. “c’mon, princess, just relax for me. worst part’s almost over, hmm? just a little more.” his words are strained with need; he’s holding himself back from fucking you like he wants to, the way a pretty cunt like yours deserves to be used. soon, he tells himself. soon.
“ready?” he asks, his green eyes searching yours. you nod anxiously, and he bottoms out inside you with a groan. you gasp at the flash of pain as he stretches you, right as jason’s hand comes up to caress your cheek. he looks down at your expression, with your eyes screwed shut and your lower lip trapped between your teeth, and lets out a soft laugh. god, you’re pretty.
“hey, eyes on me, ma,” he rasps gently. you pry your eyelids open to meet his gaze, and he smiles at you. “that’s right, baby. fuck—doin’ so good.” he rocks his hips gently, and you let out a quiet moan despite the ache. “so fuckin’ good for me.” he thrusts again, a little deeper this time, and you notice the stinging is starting to subside, pleasure gradually taking its place. you moan again, louder this time.
“startin’ to feel it, huh, baby?” he murmurs, his eyes glancing down at your stretched pussy taking him in. heat pools in your chest as you hum in agreement, a sheepish giggle escaping you when jason’s eyes lock back onto yours. he chuckles in return, before planting a longing kiss on your lips as his hips continue to rock slowly.
you whine into him, wrapping your legs around his waist to signal that you’re ready for more; he smiles against your lips as his arm snakes around your back, locking your body against his. oh, you poor thing. you have no idea what you’re in for.
#jason todd when I get my hands on you…#but also soft!jason world domination#jason todd#jason todd smut#jason todd x reader#jason todd x you#red hood#red hood smut#red hood x reader#red hood x you#soft!jason todd#martiniluvr’s asks#dc comics#batman
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𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨; 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐝 𝐬𝐥𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: mean/angry nerd!switch!choso, hate fucking/academic rivals, Daddy/brat, biting, degradation/mocking, two pussy slaps, a hint of oral/fingering for some prep, pain kink, begging, just the tip, choking, light fem dom!reader, biting, hair pulling/dragging, mirror sex, full nelson, squirting
Oreo: @arminsumi @vampress7 lets all be delulu over nerd!choso, normal choso could and would never be so mean. I stand by that but this is nerd!choso Au whose done with your shit even if you are right! 🤤
“You’re such an annoying brat correcting me in class.” Choso grabs your arms pinning them above your head. Stuffing his thigh between your legs. Grinding your hips, your soft clit perfectly rubbing on his thick thigh.
Fighting the urge to groan. “If you weren't wrong, I wouldn't have to-!” Choso shuts you up with a rough kiss, biting your bottom lip. Slipping his tongue past when you cry.
Squeezing your neck, pulling away, smirking down at you. “Say something now, do anything other than grind your clit on my thigh like a pretty dirty whore.” Glaring up at him, unable to stop yourself. It feels to go to rock your clothed cunt on his clothed thigh.
Sneering, “If only the class knew what a pathetic whore you are. Glaring up at me like you won't beg for my cock.” It’s going straight to your needy cunt the way Choso is looking down at you with such angry hunger.
Moving his thigh from between yours. Roughly unbutton your pants, yanking them down your thighs with your underwear Curling two thick fingers into your cunt. “Already stupidly wet for me, nnn can't believe such a pretty cunt belongs to such a brat.” Letting go of your neck, crouching down ripping your pants down the rest of the way.
“Aw Choso Kamo is mad 'cause I’m right! Doesn't matter how much of a stupid cock drunk slut your fat cock makes me it won't change that!” Slapping your clit and cunt repeatedly. Slapping your hand over your mouth, muffling your cries from the sweet sting.
Biting your stomach, gliding two thick fingers. You grab a fistful of his dark hair tugging till he whines. Your sloppy wet cunt quivers around Choso's thick fingers from the beautiful sound. “Annoying brat.” Propping your thigh on his broad shoulder, shoving his face towards your clit.
“Shut up and suck my clit.” Biting your thigh, pumping his thick fingers faster. Massaging your sweet spot, licking your soft clit. Groaning into your cunt, grabbing your hip digging in his nails.
Squirming grinding your hips, swiping your clit on his pierced tongue. Curling from your toes from the sweet pressure of his hard bar. “Fuck you for being so damn beautiful with my cunt on your face.” Sloppily sucking on your soft clit, groaning getting off in the soft squelching of his finger sinking into your sloppy wet cunt.
Gliding his fingers out, slipping your thigh off his shoulder standing up. Unbuttoning his dark pants, pushing them down, kicking them to the side. “No underwear? Figures why everyone could see the fat outline of your cock when you were in front of the class.”
Picking up his beautiful cock. Biting your lip, stroking your clit, you love the way he’s so fat and heavy he hangs. He smirks looking down at you, trapping your head between his large hands.
Grabbing his cock touching stroking your clit. “I knew you were lookin’ n you lied sayin’ you weren't.” He groans when you slide your side lips along his cock, smearing slick into his cock head. Helping you stroke your clit better.
“Fuck you, you didn't deserve the satisfaction after being wrong. You should have studied better I'm disappointed in you can I even think of you as a rival after that.” Biting Choso’s tattoo of black flowers and dark green leaves and thorny vines.
The large garden covers most of his body. Hiding scars you’ve memorized the placement of. You hate him so much, yet you know his body better than your own.
Tracing over the one above his heart. Kissing the bite mark. “Please you know you’re going to be thinking about seeing me in class tomorrow. Let’s see how good your essay is, if I think it’s less than 96 you’re not cumming.” Grabbing your hair pulling your head back.
Looking up at him, siding your hand down from his thick hard pecs to his sculpted abs. “Fuck whatever stupid grading system you have it's rigged. You just want to hear me beg.” Stepping back, taking away his thick, warm cock on your soft clit.
Choso leads you from his living room into the hallway with a firm grasp on your hair. “Damn right, I want to hear you beg for this cock. Watch yourself, see what a dumb slut I fuck ya into.” Letting go, shoving you into his bathroom, grabbing your arm, and twisting you to face the mirror. Bending you over, lifting your ass up in the air.
Grabbing the counter. Admiring Choso in the mirror. His broad chest, thick arms, and slim waist. “I want to be fucked dumb by your fat cock.” Lining his thick cock up gliding in just his fat cock head.
Suspended in the air with only his tip in you, you look so desperate begging. "Please fuck me with your fat cock, I don't want to think of anything else. Wanna be your pretty dumb cock sleeve." Gliding his cock out, slapping himself on your lips.
Clenching with every wet smack, lining himself back up gliding only his fat tip into you. His fat head alone stretching your cunt feels too damn good. "Please fuck my bratty attitude outta me, make me your mindless cum stuffed slut. NNn." Roughly pulling you back to meet his harsh thrust, stuffing you full of his cock.
Loudly moaning, "Fuck me!" Choso grabs your hair, yanking you upright. Wrapping an arm around his neck. Choso slips his arms underneath your legs, folding you in half. Bouncing you in time with his hard, quick thrusts.
Stroking your sweet spot before stirring your guts up. "That's what I thought it's ok ya can moan you are my stupid pretty slut." Slipping his arm across your body, trapping both your legs over his thick forearm.
You're tightly pinned, knees to your chest watching your cunt get stuffed. Getting off on how Choso needs one arm to support you. Stroking your clit whining from the sweet toe-curling pleasure, clenching his fat cock. "Nnn daddy please!"
"Daddy? Already is it that good? Like seeing how your cunt is making a perfect circle from how fat my cock is." Steadily stroking your soft clit. Over the months of ending up in his apartment he's perfected playing with your clit.
You couldn't do it better yourself anymore. Couldn't cum this hard that your eyes are rolling back, body trembling, jaw-dropping. Your thick slick dripping down Choso's balls, some of your squirt splashing onto his counter.
Forgetting everything but getting fucked stupid on Choso's fat, veiny cock. “Ya cummin' so much for me, thought ya hated me but look at you. Giving me those love sick eyes." You don't have the mind to protest.
Choso smirks, "I might be second in class but I'm still your Daddy. No one else can fuck ya like I can look at ya already a stupid drooling brat.”
Oreo creampie’s m.list
#jujutsu kaisen#jjk smut#jjk#jjk x reader#jjk x y/n#jjk x you#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x y/n#jujutsu kaisen x you#choso smut#choso x reader#kamo choso#choso kamo smut#choso x you#choso x y/n#choso kamo x reader#choso kamo#jjk choso#jjl x reader smut
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OMGG yk that one trend on tik tok where the girl shows her nails the caption being “look at my new nails” and she’s rubbing it on the bfs bulge can u do that with enhypen legal line?? Sorry if this doesn’t make sense😭
love this req !!!!! i tried my best though hope you like it !
⚠︎ very suggestive ;) semi- smut?
✎ what the req. says
(enhypen legal line x fem. reader)
Heeseung -> you were seeing this trend going on in TikTok and you couldn’t help but want to try it out on your boyfriend. you just had your nails done yesterday as well so it was the perfect timing. you explained to heeseung what you wanted to do earning a howl from him.
“ you’re so horny i swear. “
you smacked your lips pushing his shoulder lightly.
“not true! i just want to try this trend !”
“mhm yea sure, as if you don’t know that this will end up in fucking. “
nevertheless he agreed to it.
he laid down on his back while you positioned your hand on top of his clothed dick before pressing play.
as your other hand was filming you slightly squeezed him through his sweatpants. heeseung groaned and hissed as you kept on rubbing slightly on him while you pretended to show your nails. he was an impatient man, the video that was barely 15 seconds long felt like 15 minutes, all he wanted was to bend you over the bed and fuck you like the tease you are.
“shit are you almost done?” he desperately asked.
“wait, just like 5 more seconds..” heeseung threw his head back, annoyed. he knew you were deleting some clips and redoing them.
“alrighty it’s done.” as soon as the video ended he pulled your waist towards him and grabbed your jaw.
“you’re gonna learn to not tease me like that ever again.”
Sunghoon -> “look babe i just got my nails done.” you said showing him your pink and white flower designs on them.
to be completely honest, you only did it to do that funny trend you saw a few days ago. it’s just something dumb and humorous you wanted to do sunghoon wouldn’t mind it.
sunghoon thought about it for a minute. he wanted to act as if nothing but holy fuck, he was already getting hard at the thought of it. the whole idea of being recorded turns him on too much for his liking. eventually he agreed to it and laid down in bed.
you on the other hand had no idea how turned on he is, even though you’re touching him sexually, it was just a joke to you, just a TikTok. that would explain how surprised you were when you rubbed his visible bulge and felt him hard as a rock. 
“holy shit..” you whispered to yourself, you tried to keep your composure as you were filming but how could you when your man was literally yearning for your touch.
sunghoon tried to hold back his moans but failed miserably. he wanted your mouth so bad. your soft touches that come and go did so much to him.
“fuck stop the video.” he said giving up, grabbing his pants and pulling them down along with his boxers.
“suck it like you know how to.”
Jay -> “so you just want to touch my dick is basically what you’re saying?” jay had such a way with words. of course that’s what you meant but you can’t just agree like that.
“i see so many people doing it and i’m bored.” jay raised an eyebrow at your response. he knew you like the back of his hand. you were horny duh.
“sure go ahead and do your ‘tiktok’ “ he chuckled as he laid in bed, waiting for you to start the video.
he smirked down at you as you innocently rubbed on his dick while you stroked up and down on it. showing your red nails to the camera yet the last thing on both of y’all’s minds was the nails.
jay wanted to also tease you. he lifted up his shirt slightly, showing his v-line. your panties were damp. in less than 30 seconds, jay has managed to almost make you cum on yourself.
jay kept calm throughout the whole video ( even though he was dying to fuck your mouth ) and just chuckled at how the simple outline of his cock made you go crazy.
“fuck it.”
you threw your phone somewhere and unbuckled his belt pulling his jeans down. left in his boxers he grabbed you chin, forcing you to look at him.
“i fucking knew it.”
Jake -> you were just sitting down in your living room at peace, when all of a sudden you hear footsteps coming from upstairs, jake came up to you while showing his phone screen with a huge grin on his face. oh god, you knew that look.
“look at this trend going on right now, it’s so hot.” he was always up to date with all the trends and stuff so you weren’t surprised, but when you saw the video, your eyes almost popped out. you were expecting a silly little dance he wanted to do with you but no. this man wanted you to grope him for a TikTok video. you couldn’t help but laugh at his request, you weren’t complaining though.
“jake seriously?”
“yes seriously, come on it’ll be fun, plus my face won’t be showing, just my dick. also you just got your nails done as well, don’t you want to show them off?” in other words, he was horny.
so there you were, rubbing on him as you squeezed his already aroused cock. you tried to go at it softly (since that was the whole point of the TikTok ) but jake didn’t want that as he bucked his hips cowards wanting to feel more, moaning from the lack of movement.
“i thought this was just got a TikTok, why are you getting so worked up jakey?” you teased. fuck how much he loved that.
from his white shirt which was almost transparent, you could see his glistening abs tighten from his heavy breaths. now you were the one getting worked up.
“just save the video and come here.” he said pulling you into a kiss.
Sunoo -> “you want to r-record it?” you nodded eagerly. you adored seeing sunoo hot and bothered, so what a great idea was this ? plus the nails you had on were actually expensive so what better way to show them off than next to your boyfriend’s dick?
sunoo blushed at your words. the action itself turned him on so bad but now that you want to make a video with it did something to him. he was nervous for sure but excited as well? there was nothing in the world he loved more than your hands, especially since they look so cute right now, so why not?
sunoo was already breathing heavily before you even pressed start. your hand simply being on top of his crotch already drove him crazy.
as you started rubbing him and squeezing him through his pants, he became a whiny mess. he stopped himself from moving his hips too much for the video but at that moment he wanted to fuck into your hand like he always does.
“aww is my precious little baby frustrated ? be patient i’m almost done.” the video was clearly longer than it should’ve been but you just loved seeing him trying to hold back seeing his dick twitch.
“please just- just touch me please ..”
Jungwon -> he was waiting for you to come up to him and ask him if you could do the infamous trend going around. obviously just as an excuse to have you on your knees.
“can we try it? pretty please? look my nails are even cute.” clearly you were very eager.
jungwon pretended to think for a moment as if he wasn’t dying to do it as well. “whatever you want princess.”
you took that literally. groping him from his base to the tip slowly then rubbing him while showing the camera your pretty nails .
“fuck those hands of yours.” he breathed out. you smirked loving how much power you have right now.
he was a quietly moaning into the pillow, on top of that, he was wearing grey sweatpants making it the scene even more sensual.
“ keep it together, just a few more seconds.” jungwon couldn’t even hide his desperation at this point. the way your small hands take him so good even soft touches and strokes like these drove him insane.
the sound of the video ending brought him back to reality. “and..done.”
“good, now finish what you’ve started.”

#enhypen hard hours#enhypen smut#enhypen x reader#jungwon x reader#heeseung x reader#sunghoon x reader#jongseong x reader#jake x reader#sunoo x reader#enhypen imagines#enhypen scenarios#enhypen#enhypen heeseung x reader#enhypen jungwon x reader#enhypen jay x reader#enhypen sunghoon x reader#enhypen jake x reader#enhypen sunoo x reader#jay park#park sunghoon#jake sim#park jongseong#kim sunwoo#yang jungwon#enhypen hard thoughts#enhypen x y/n#enhypen x you
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come for me | jjk
↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; it's a first proper date he's supposed to plan, unfortunately it does not go according to his plan
⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dilf!jungkook x reader
⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: angst, fluff, smut, neighbors au, enemies to lovers (?)
⇢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: explicit language, protected s*x, little spanking, rough and quick s*x
⇢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6.6k+
a/n: this is one of the secrets I've been keeping and god it's finally here!! i wasn't even planning on finishing this today but I did and I'm so happy to share it with you! hope you like it <3
↳ previous parts
Jungkook is convinced the entire world sucks.
What should be considered as the most exciting time for some men, Jungkook finds it as a literal torture. Planning a date shouldn't be so tough. He has never truly done it before – not when he truly meant it. Whenever he went out for what could be considered as a pathetic attempt at a date, its purpose was clear. To fuck and end it with a mind-blowing orgasm on both parts.
He has never done it like… this.
Fuck.
Just the thought of it makes him want to throw up. He definitely can't mention that to you – who's pretty much clueless about his thoughts and would kick him in the balls if you knew.
“I don't know dude, you should bring her roses.” Taehyung proposes, watching his friend in a mild panic as he bounces Ruda in his arms.
“She's not like other girls.”
“What do you mean? Every woman loves roses! You can't go wrong with that!” Taehyung protests, offended that Jungkook rejected his idea right away.
“I wouldn't say every but yeah, it's the effort that counts. Plus, she knows you've never done this before.” Yoongi joins in that conversation, shrugging nonchalantly while Jungkook nibbles on his bottom lip.
Fuck! This is not like him.
It's already enough his friends share an amused look, one he definitely notices and finds really offending. They find this entire thing very amusing while Jungkook is having a midlife crisis.
“Okay, maybe forget about the flowers. What does she like?”
“What do you mean?” Jungkook frowns.
Yoongi rolls his eyes, “What things does she like to do? Does she like to eat? Likes to watch movies?”
Jungkook's a little taken back by those questions, a clueless expression clouding his face while Taehyung snorts in the background. He's too busy trying to think of a proper answer to glare at him in return.
“I–I don't know,” he admits.
“You don't know?” Yoongi deadpans, “Come on dude, you gotta know something.”
“I don't know!” he exclaims in distress, causing Ruda to babble as if to remind him she's there. He shoots her an apologetic look, looking back at Yoongi. “We never really discussed that kind of stuff. We fucked. That's what she likes for sure.”
“Should you talk like that in front of the baby?” Taehyung points out, met with another glare that shuts him up.
Ruda is too young to understand. He'll take care of his bad mouth by the time she understands, he naively thinks to himself.
“Then just fuck her.”
Jungkook stares dumbfoundedly at his friend and his stupid idea. “Seriously? I'm supposed to take her on a date. Beats the whole purpose of it if I just fuck her instead.”
“Look at him, so much progress.” Taehyung mutters amusingly, causing Jungkook to grab one of Ruda's plushies and throw it aggressively at Taehyung's head.
“Then just take her somewhere and fuck her after. If the date is awful, at least she gets her world rocked.”
They both start to laugh while Jungkook whines loudly, a groan following right after. “You guys are fucking with me. Literally, you're no help.”
“JK, we can't exactly help you when you have no idea what she likes. Maybe you should find out first and then think of something?”
“Oh, how did I not think of it sooner?” Jungkook mocks, doing a little stance with his arms while Ruda is in his hold. “Very smart, Yoongi. I don't want to make it seem as if I don't know what I'm doing.”
“What's so wrong about that?” Taehyung questions, “You just ask her what she prefers and it'll be easier to plan something.”
“Yeah, he's right.”
Jungkook sighs, pinching his brows. Ruda starts to fidget in his hold, causing him to sit down in a chair. He hands her one of her rattles as she starts to wildly shake it in her tiny hands.
“Won't I look pathetic if I just asked her?”
“You literally look pathetic right now.”
“Taehyung, God help me–”
“Just ask her.” He cuts him off.
Somehow, he made it sound easier than the thought of it is.
The next time you see Jungkook is when you bring him the dinner you cooked. You haven't had that much time to see each other, with you working and his sleeping schedule all over the place, you had to settle with a message for the time being. It hasn't been that long, only like three days since he asked you on a date.
You're not going to lie, you feel a little giddy thinking of it. It's weird because you can't imagine the famous Jeon Jungkook on a date. If someone mentioned the words date and Jungkook in the same sentence, you would laugh them off. But now that it involves you, you find it almost flattering. He's taking you on a date.
You.
And no one else.
You want to devilishly cackle at all those bitches that got to fuck him, wanted something more with him. Realizing that's kind of evil, you humble yourself because nothing's sure yet.
Since this is very new to not only you but Jungkook as well, it's hard to have any say when it comes to the future. You're trying to prepare yourself for any outcomes but it's tough. Tougher than you think it would be. The idea of this failing makes you weirdly sad and you can't stand it.
However the sight in front of you completely brings you to other thoughts. You've never been someone who would thirst over dads. The whole DILF thing discussed between women was a pure fantasy, something they would romanize or even sexualize. Not that you were purely against it. Are women who find young dads hot that bad?
The potential man would have to be hot in order to find them being a young dad hot. Some men just have that spark. And you've never really met one even remotely close to Jungkook.
And there he is.
He opens his front door, hair slightly raffled and messy, as if he hasn't brushed it the entire day. He has one of his oversized gray shirts on, a map of spit or whatever that is decorating the thin material. He has a baby cloth draped over his shoulder, momentarily widening his eyes at the sight of you.
Then realization hits him and he steals a glance at the watch around his wrist. He forgot you were supposed to drop in for dinner.
Other than he looks fucking hot, even in his messy state, you also find him adorable how he stares at you with big doe eyes before he ushers you to come inside.
“Where's my favorite baby?” you ask excitedly, keeping your tone down just in case she's sleeping. It's awfully quiet in Jungkook's apartment.
“You make it sound as if you knew dozens of them.”
You give him a look, hearing him chuckling as he runs his fingers through his hair. “Rude.”
“She's sleeping,” he answers instead, but a cocky grin is attached to his moisturized lips. “She's been a little cranky this night,” He lets out a yawn. “Barely got any sleep.”
You pout at the thought of it. “You should've told me. We could switch or something.”
He stares at you dumbfounded as if you just came up with the craziest idea. Perhaps it is one.
“You have a job, Y/N. I can't let you have a sleepless night.”
He has a point. Even if you were willing to spend a sleepless night helping him, you wouldn't really help much since you have to wake up early in the morning. You can't babysit during the day, unless it's the weekend. And babysitting during the night so Jungkook can sleep, even if for a few hours would cause you to look like a zombie the next morning.
You love your sleep. But you're willing to give it away for Ruda. And Jungkook.
Jungkook ends that particular topic, leading you further down his apartment and to his kitchen where you place the containers. “It's tomato sauce pasta with chicken and basil. Not exactly a trophy winning menu but I tried to cook something quickly.”
“Fuck, I'm so hungry,” Jungkook whines, opening the container as he inhales the scent, a steam coming off it since you just finished cooking. “Thank you. It smells amazing.”
“No worries, I told you I wanna help in any way I can.” you assure him.
He motions for you to sit down, already pulling out a glass for you where he pours you an apple juice. “Have you eaten?” he asks, already digging his fork into pasta.
“It's hot, be careful,” you warn him, even though the steam itself is enough of an indicator that it's indeed very hot. But Jungkook looks as if he's ready to swallow the entire thing with no thoughts. “And no. I came directly here but no worries, I will eat when I come home.”
“Nonsense,” Jungkook waves you off. You watch him stand up and before you can complain, he pulls out a plate for you and opens the other container you had prepared for him for tomorrow. “Here, let's eat together.”
“Jungkook–I have my food at home, I just came here to drop this–”
“Stay for a while.” he says simply, looking too irresistible and straight into your eyes for you to object.
“Okay.”
You dig into the food, not realizing how hungry you've become once again. Your entire apartment smells like tomato sauce, garlic and basil. You hope by the time you come there, the opened windows did their job because you would hate to sleep in a smelly apartment.
When you were cooking, you inhaled the smell a lot so naturally, you didn't feel as hungry anymore but now the hunger comes back. Without any argument, you both eat in silence while trying to talk about your days.
You and Jungkook haven't really talked that much before. You both know what you spent most of the time doing. That's changing and it is a pleasant change.
It does feel slightly odd to be talking about casual stuff like your work. But once Jungkook takes over and talks you through their day. He's got a lot on his plate. He has a baby for fuck sake. He looks exhausted, yet his eyes are sparkling and he doesn't make it sound as if he's complaining. He informs you, even laughs at Ruda's cranky mood and what work she makes him go through.
You're done and Jungkook takes it upon himself to clean the dishes and give you back your food containers, even though you told him it can wait. He protests and while he just as much protests with you cleaning the mess in his living room, you do it anyway.
There are toys and a few dirty and empty bottles laying around. There's not that much of a mess and it's done shortly after Jungkook finishes dishes.
You both decide to hang out for a while before you have to get home, take a shower and prepare yourself for the night.
“Hey, I meant to ask you about something…”
Jungkook starts unsurely, arm outstretched behind your seat on his couch as you're cuddled to his side. You could fall asleep like this.
“It's about our date.”
You pull away slightly to look at his face, “Are you backing down from it?” you muse, watching the way his face turns into panic and that alone tells you that's far from the truth. It's enough to let you relax as you giggle.
“No!”
“Then what is it?” you ask, cuddling back but in a position where you still can see him.
“What do you like to do?” he asks, a little awkward as he scratches the back of his head. “It sounds fucking stupid but I was wondering where to take you and I realized–we never talked about this stuff. And I–” Don't want to mess up. He doesn't finish.
Something warm collects in your chest and you try to hide a smile, not wanting him to feel as if you're finding him amusing or anything of that sort. Actually, you find him endearing. He's showing you a side of himself that you've never seen before.
“Whatever you plan, I'm sure I'll enjoy it.” You settle on saying, not having anything particular in mind which is not a help at all.
“Come on!” Jungkook whines, “I'm trying here. I've never done this shit before.”
“Did you just call our date a shit?” you tease him, watching him open his mouth before he closes it and glares at you.
“I didn't mean it like that.”
“I know, I just love teasing you,” you muse, met with another glare which causes you to giggle silently. “I've never seen you like this. I'm quite enjoying it.”
“Yeah, make fun of me.” he scoffs a little.
Realizing this might not be just as fun and humorous as you make it seem to be, you also realize this must be important to him in a way. Your smile drops and you sit up, watching him slide his arm off the couch and into his lap. He stares there thoughtfully, avoiding your gaze.
“I'm sorry, I didn't think you would worry about it this much,” you tell him gently, “Depends on what time we would go on a date.”
“I called my mom and she can babysit until 9PM. She has to go back home after that.”
“Hm, okay. And what time are we meeting?”
“I thought maybe around… four?” he says, stealing a glance at you as your purse your lips in thought.
“How about we eat somewhere nice–nothing fancy!” you warn him, not really sure if he's the type to go all out since he has never done this before.
But still, you want to make sure he doesn't spend a fortune on a single date. Plus, you would like to pay too. Not because he has a baby and other expenses, but because you're independent. You don't need a man to pay for everything.
Maybe eventually it would be nice to get spoiled a little. But at the moment, you can't imagine it. It wouldn't seem fair considering what a position he's in now. There's a little human here that needs more of everything than you do.
It's not something you've had to come to terms with, you've understood it from the beginning. Jungkook is a dad now. And it has a certain baggage with it.
“And then we could do something–I don't know. Maybe we could think about it after? To see what we're in the mood for.”
“You sure you'll be okay with it?” he asks unsure.
He's met with a confusion as you pull back and say; “Why wouldn't I be? I just suggested it.” you giggle.
“Just askin'. I've never done this before.”
“So you said.” you tell him, standing up. “I would go and check Ruda but I don't want to wake her up. So kiss her for me, okay?”
Jungkook looks like he's ready to protest, perhaps telling you to stay a little longer or even night, knowing it might be too soon for you. Once he checks the time, he remains quiet and the pout is the only thing visible on his face.
You lean down, kissing him on his cheek. “Don't worry about the date too much, okay?”
He hums, though keeps his pessimism to himself. You wave at him for the last time and it's until he hears a soft click that he's once again alone with his daughter. The one that announces herself shortly after you leave. A loud sigh leaving his mouth as he stands up and goes to check on her.
“What do you mean you can't come?” Jungkook shrieks, so out of his character that even his mother on the other line stays silent for a second.
“I'm sorry, Jungkookie. They canceled all train connections because of an accident.”
“Fuck,” he mumbles under his breath, hearing his mother scolding him but he pays her zero attention. “Can you grab a taxi or something? I'll pay for it.”
It's out of his budget but he's desperate.
“No, it's too expensive plus I wouldn't be able to make it in time. You know how it is here. It's hard to find a taxi.”
He groans, rubbing his face frustratedly as he stares out of the window. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
He had it all planned. Even though you talked about getting food, he thought a lot – embarrassed to say – he even googled a few spots that were recommended around here. He would let you choose and maybe you would be able to visit them all within five hours that you would have for yourselves.
But now everything's out of the window.
“I could come tomorrow?” She tries to help, but Jungkook shakes his head.
You can't tomorrow. There's some kind of family party you need to attend.
“No, it's fine, mom. I'll call you later.”
“I really am sorry, Jungkookie.”
He starts to think of every single thing that he knows. Every person gets on his mind and he wonders if he should call them. In a moment of realization and reality hitting back to him, he realizes he can't just call anyone to watch over his daughter. He sits down in disappointment, realizing how selfish that would be of him.
He can't call Yoongi or Taehyung. They would not be able to take care of her and he would spend the entire date worrying, probably leaving to check on her. That's completely out of the question. None of his other friends, that probably fuck around as we're speaking would be able to help him.
None of his family members are around. Plus, they still haven't met Ruda – most of them – for some reason he thinks it's too early. He's still in a stage of trying to figure out to be a father.
It's only his luck that his mom calls him from the train station, having no other way to come here. Just because some dumb fuck decided to jump in front of the train.
He stops.
Fuck, he really is selfish.
He takes it back immediately, having more compassion now than ever since he has a whole baby to raise and take care of.
You're supposed to be here any minute. He had it all planned.
His mom should've been here soon, he would briefly talk her through Ruda's routine. He trusts her. She raised him and could surely take care of a baby. Plus, Ruda's sleep is better these days and she's too little to make a fuss about her dad not being here.
When a knock resounds on his door, his entire stomach churns and he prepares himself for the disappointment that he seems to be. It's even worse when he opens the front door and you stand there, fully prepared in a short dress. Your hair is neat and nicely done, so is your make-up. Not that you aren't pretty either way, but he can definitely tell the extra effort you've put into yourself.
It truly makes him feel like the biggest asshole.
You smile, telling him something but he can't hear. He just stares, both out of awe and then frustration when he realizes what he's about to tell you.
“What's wrong?” Your smile drops, making a note of his weird expression of pure sadness.
“We can't go on a date,” He forces the words out of his mouth.
It's weird how his heart drops when you suddenly grab the strap of your bag, looking as if you're shielding yourself from him.
“It's–My mom just called and she can't get on the train.”
“Oh,” you let out. “That sucks.”
“Yeah, um–come inside.” he says, gently grabbing your wrist as he pulls you inside. He doesn't need any nosy neighbors witnessing this very uncomfortable and awkward situation.
You stand in his entry way, looking around in awkwardness as he scratches his temple.
He's obviously styled and prepared to go out. You've noticed his nice outfit right away. He's wearing black slacks with a casual white t-shirt tucked inside it. His hair is trimmed and styled back. You can smell his aftershave and hair gel along with his cologne.
Clearly, he hasn't stood you up and what he's saying is the truth.
It's not like you doubt him but well – all of this is new and maybe it wouldn't be so out of character if Jungkook panicked and decided to make a lie to save himself.
“I'm so sorry–I really had everything prepared for tonight. And it's completely ruined. I fucked up.”
You frown, staring at him for a second. “You didn't fuck up, Jungkook.” you tell him softly. “It's not your fault.”
“I thought of calling one of my friends, but they're not able to take care of Ruda–I can't just let them–”
Probably they wouldn't even want to babysit, now that he thinks of it.
“Jungkook, it's totally okay. I understand.”
“I can't let just anyone watch over her.”
“I understand,” you emphasize softly, smiling at him. “How about we take her with us?”
Jungkook's head snaps in your direction, looking at you as if you're crazy. “You wanna take a baby with us? Nothing against Ruda but–we're not gonna be able to enjoy it. She will cry eventually and I had plans–I can't possibly imagine taking her there–it's too much work.”
He panics and you need to get a hold of his shoulders to stop him.
“We don't have to take her to the restaurant or wherever you want to go,” you inform him, “We could just take her for a stroll and see from there? If she's gonna cry and be cranky, we'll just come back.”
You're not a mother yourself, but somehow you can empathize with his situation. He hasn't taken her out for too long, not onto too many public places. Until you count grocery stories and nearby parks. He's by himself most of the time. While he finally got the hang of the feeding, bath and sleeping routine, the thought of suddenly taking her there makes him unsure. Even though he knows he'll have to do it eventually.
“Plus, I will be there. It's gonna be the two of us.”
Something about that specific line makes him pause as he watches you. You give him a look, wondering what's the stare for but he just smiles. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” you assure him. “Nothing's ruined. Plus, I think I'll prefer Ruda's company there too.”
He looks at you suspiciously, almost like he doesn't believe you. And perhaps he doesn't. But you giggle. “I'm serious. There's gonna be time to enjoy ourselves alone.”
“I–” he stops, “Wow. Okay. I'll prepare her and we can go.”
“Great,” you smile, “I'll prepare her stroller. Do you have any formula prepared?”
“Yeah, had one prepared for mom. It should still be warm.”
You both jump into action. Jungkook takes Ruda out of her cradle that he bought for her and has its place designed in his living room. She starts to wake up, her little face twisting as you coo at her while you walk past them. You prepare the bottle and stroller, watching Jungkook put her there as you bring some extra clothes for her just in case.
You're out of his apartment in a record time, fully prepared as you shoo Jungkook and take the stroller. He walks beside you with a teasing smile, but there's a huge relief and content behind it.
Jungkook's nerves are put at ease.
Not only you but the situation proves to him that he can still go and eat out, even with a baby. Ruda has been like an angel. Once she's awake, she just stares around before she falls asleep shortly after. You feed her in a nearby park which slowly lullabies her to sleep.
After walking and getting to know each other's interests through stories, you find a nice restaurant where you can eat outside. It's not probably what Jungkook had planned but it has its own magic.
Stroller kept next to you at all times, you fill up your stomach and even sleeping Ruda gets a few compliments along the way.
“Aw, what a cute baby! You have a very pretty baby.” The waitress tells you, beaming from a distance at sleeping Ruda, causing you both to smile.
None of you correct her. Why should you? She's a stranger and it doesn't matter what she thinks. You understand why she would think you're a family. It's a standard here. Nobody expects single dads out here.
Well, not so single anymore. You hope.
“Thank you.” you smile at her in gratitude, eyes dropping to the sleeping angel that's next to you. Okay, maybe you appropriated Jungkook's daughter but he doesn't seem to mind. Actually, it seems like he's enjoying the sight in front of him.
“Your daughter is a star around here.” you tell Jungkook once the waitress is gone.
He chuckles, “Stealing my spotlight from birth.”
“Oh, she definitely helps you catch even more eyes.” you muse, watching him laugh in confusion. “Everyone's staring at you. All those women we walked past. They're thirsting over you.”
“Are you sure it's because of Ruda?”
You roll your eyes while grinning, “So cocky as usual.”
“What? I've always caught a female's gaze if that's what you were saying.”
“Obviously,” you roll your eyes again, “But there's something hot about a young hot dad. You're a DILF now.”
“Don't call me that.” he groans, causing you to laugh.
“Either way, it does bring you attention whether you like it or not.”
“Doesn't matter, I only like your attention,” he says.
The two of you share a look as Jungkook cringes while laughing while you shriek in both excitement and disbelief. You probably look like a crazy couple. “That was smooth!”
He laughs, “I'm trying. I'm not romantic.”
“Are we having this conversation again?” You lift your brow. “Anyway, they can only look. You're on a date with me.”
It's a diplomatic way to say, aiming at something that hasn't been discussed yet. This is your first date after all. None of you have a certain plan.
Yet, you're sure to admit that you don't like the attention Jungkook gets.
“Does that make me your boyfriend?” he asks, tasting the way that words sound out of his mouth.
“Do you want to be my boyfriend?”
“Hell yeah. If it means repelling all the men from you, I will be anything.”
You laugh, “You sound jealous.”
“Because I am,” he says, throwing a piece of sweet potato into his mouth. “I want you all to myself.”
“Hm, I'll think about it. Ruda has a place in my heart too.”
“I can share with her.”
You both share a giggle together, something you've barely done before.
“Does this make it official?” you question.
He shrugs, “If you want it to be. I know I do.”
“Me too,” you tell him giddily, sounding like an excited teenager. “I want to be your girlfriend.”
“Do people get together on a first date though?” he asks, finding you staring dumbfoundedly at him. “No, I'm serious. I really wanna know.”
You sit back, taking a sip of your drink. “Who cares? We kinda did it backwards anyway.”
“True,” Jungkook hums. “Who cares.”
Throughout those four hours of getting to know each other more, the connection between you grew some more. You've found out about Jungkook's secret hobby which is graphic art. It kind of explains the love for his tattoos as well. He's no longer just the boy that partied and fuck his way through his years. Actually, he's not that at all.
His guilty pleasure is eating snacks in the middle of the night, though he really tries to restrict himself from doing so. It's tougher to visit a gym these days, one of his obvious hobbies that you've already known. But he talked more about that and there wasn't a minute that it felt awkward or uncomfortable.
Ruda has been a pleasant company as well, her cuteness making both of you laugh and giggle. You were kind of bonding over her as well. Until it was starting to get darker and the two of you have decided to get back.
On your way to the apartment complex, Ruda has pooped which proved your decision to go back to be right. Jungkook invites you to his place, not too keen on ending your date just yet and you agree. Though, you have to wake up early to pack your things and get ready for your cousin's birthday party, you don't want to leave them.
You offer to take Ruda's nappy but Jungkook refuses, thinking it might be too much to ask of you but truly, you wouldn't mind. You try to tell him that but he just shakes his head, tells you to sit down and make yourself at home.
Shortly after, he comes back informing you that Ruda fell asleep. He joins you on the couch with what sounds like an exhausted sigh. The two of you share a look, both chuckling, silently of course because there's a baby sleeping in the other room.
“Did you like it?”
Jungkook fills up the momentary silence, voice slightly unsure and nervous.
He glances at you sideways, quickly looking away as he clears his throat.
“The date.”
“I did,” you giggle, nodding. “I really did. Thank you, it was very lovely.”
He allows himself to smile, mentally patting himself on his back for this going so smoothly. To be honest, he expected a disaster. It began like that, so he can't be blamed for expecting it to continue. But he's pleasantly surprised.
Too happy about today.
He feels like a freaking teenager and he gets this weird fluttering in his stomach. Urgh! He's not sure how he feels about it because it's new.
“Though you could've let me pay at least for the botanic park–or the museum.” you tell him, giving him a dirty but teasing look.
You've really managed to visit many places Jungkook prepared for you. At first – which you're clueless about – he wasn't sure how to feel about it because he never went to a freaking museum. Maybe when he was on a school trip. It was totally involuntary, of course. But he caught himself enjoying it – and maybe it was because you were there – but he realized he doesn't mind enjoying himself, knowing it's because of you that he was able to.
“No can do.” Jungkook shakes his head, teasing you some more which makes you groan.
“I will pay next time.”
“Next time?” he teases, wiggling his brow.
“Aren't we dating now? It's what couples do, going on dates–”
“We are,” he hums. “What else do they do?”
You smirk, inching closer to him as you cuddle up to his side. He welcomes your touch, throwing his arm around you as he pulls you even closer while he doesn't take his eyes off you.
“They kiss,” you whisper, noses bumping into each other as you let your lips linger over his. Not quite kissing him but then it's too irresistible, he is, that in the end you press a soft kiss on his lips.
“They cuddle,” you continue, “Fuck.”
Jungkook chokes on his spit, “Don't say it like that.”
“Is Jeon Jungkook getting shy?” you tease, kissing his jaw. “You know a lot about fucking.”
“I–fuck–I do,” he agrees, voice sounding almost choked up. He tries to concentrate badly, he really does, but you're making it too hard when your kisses trail down his neck, making more parts of his body alive. “It just makes me–”
“What? Horny?” you tease and he groans.
“Well obviously,” he rolls his eyes, hands on your hips as you sit up and straddle his lap. “Wait–”
“Why?” you pause, cheeks heating up from embarrassment.
“No, wait, wait, wait–” He quickly says as if he could read your thoughts. He can surely see the starting embarrassment and the way you pull away, putting distance between you. “I really want nothing else than fuck you.”
“But?”
Jungkook presses his lips together, “I wanna take it slow. Won't it ruin if we just fuck right now?”
You give him a look, slightly caught off guard. “Why would we? We've done it before multiple times.”
“Yeah, we did but… but it was different, you know?” he says and weirdly, you do know what he means. However– “I just don't want to fuck this up.”
Your eyes soften, taking Jungkook's face into your hands as you press a soft kiss to his lips. “You won't fuck this up, Jungkook.”
“You don't know that.” He frowns.
“Well, yeah. I meant it in a more encouraging way. You're trying and I can see that. I do appreciate it.” you confess to him, silently and softly as if saying it out loud will make it embarrassing. You're a little sheepish when it comes to confessing such things. Talking deeply and emotionally with him. “I personally don't think us having sex tonight will ruin anything. But if that's what you're worried about, we don't have to. What I wanna say with this is–I respect it.”
He watches you, eyes clouded with restraint and desire. Currently having an inner battle with himself, he sighs and leans his head back.
“Plus, I think it's cute.”
“Cute?” he deadpans, moving his head down to look at you.
“You're cute,” you admit, giggling at the look of disgust on his face. “This really means something to you.”
“Does it not to you?”
You laugh, “Of course it does.”
He smiles, pulling you closer as he's the one who kisses you now. “Fuck, you're really making this hard.”
“Not just this.” you point out, wiggling your brows at him when you shift in his lap, feeling his hardening length under you.
“Stop!” he shrieks silently in horrification.
You giggle, “We could watch a movie instead. Or talk.”
He rubs his lips together, eyes dropping low. For a moment, the two of you only stare at each other. There's desire, lust and impatience clouding the air around you, just as much as it fills your gazes. Jungkook's eyes are the first ones to drop down your lips. Staring at them painted in a nice shade that compliments your skin tone. They're moisturized and never looked so tempting. He's not sure. He can't think straight right now.
“Fuck movie.” he pants, grabbing you by your sides and pulling you onto him.
The kiss is no longer soft and minimal, you both practically throw at each other letting your bodies act upon their biggest temptation. The making out is messy and fast, no longer staying at that as Jungkook lays you down and starts kissing you down your neck.
“Fuck, that feels good.” you gasp, moaning when Jungkook lowers down your dress and starts sucking the skin on top of your breasts.
You arch into his touch and warmth, craving for every inch of him. It leads you to become even more impatient, ushering him to take off his shirt. He does and you immediately salivate at his pecs and muscles, hands trailing down his back and abs.
“Fuck, almost forgot how hot you are.” you confess. Okay, that might be a lie. It's hard not to notice how Jungkook glows with hotness, even if there are traces of exhaustion every day.
“Oh, you forgot?” Jungkook teases, “Should remind you.”
“Mhm, you should.”
And boy, he does.
In a split second, the dress is ripped off you and thrown somewhere on the floor, underwear followed right after. You complain about Jungkook's upper body still dressed, though there's something incredibly sexy about him wearing slacks with chest on full display. It's almost too shameful that he turns you around, getting you on all four.
Both of you go completely feral. The position making your ass arch as Jungkook delivers a slap to it. He stops for a second though, freezes and waits for any sound coming from his bedroom. You watch him relax as he continues, a little smile playing on your lips.
You hear him unzipping his slacks, not wanting to get the sight stolen from you so you turn around and stare at the scene in front of you across your shoulder. He smirks, noticing you watching as he reaches toward his coffee table.
Once he pulls out a foil packet, you give him a look with raised brow. “How did it get there?”
“My wallet dropped the other day and someone rang the door, I panicked and put it there.”
You laugh at his story, wondering if he's telling the truth. He looks like it though and quite frankly, you don't care.
“Turned out to be convenient.”
“It did, thanks to whoever rang that day.”
He smiles, not elaborating any further as he takes off his remaining clothes. You hear the familiar sound of foil ripping and before you know it, Jungkook's tip pokes you at your asscheek.
You might be already impatient enough, both of you too hungry for one another, but you also know there is no time to fool around when you now have the chance to have sex. Any second Ruda could wake up and put an end to your and Jungkook's desire. Seems like he knows it too because he gives you an apologetic look.
“It's okay, just fuck me.” you assure him with a moan, arching your back for him.
He spits on his fingers, stretching you out with them and you sigh in content at the feeling. Giving you a few pumps to make you at least somehow prepared for him, you whine his name in ushering him and silently telling him you'll be fine.
That's all it takes for him to enter you, both of you swallowing down any set of curses and sounds. Jungkook pulls back just for him to thrust into you. He finds a perfect rhythm, rocking your bodies fast and roughly.
Jungkook growls, “Holy shit.”
He slaps your ass, trying to keep it down as you both giggle in the middle of it. It's soon cut off by his thrusts you try to meet. Giggles get switched by silent moans and pleas. Everything is heated and rushed, both of you ultimately aiming to orgasm knowing it could get interrupted any minute. Keeping that in mind, you don't hold yourself back and neither does Jungkook.
Despite your situation, he does not refrain himself a few slaps to your ass which only brings you closer to the end.
“Jungkook–”
“Fucking hell, I wish I could hear you moaning and screaming.”
You wish you had more time, though you don't regret it happening now. You wouldn't have it any other way. Thinking that you both would have to wait for each other sounds like a proper torture.
“You're fucking creaming my cock–fuck.” he groans silently, seeming to have as much as struggle to keep it down.
Still, it's kind of hot to experience it. You never had to keep it down. Sure, there were many times when you specifically had sex and tried to be silent because of neighbors. With Jungkook, you never cared about neighbors before. Not that much at least.
“Fuck–I'm almost–there.”
“Come for me.” Jungkook grunts, hands gripping your ass so much that you're sure there will be bruises tomorrow.
And you do. Not even five seconds later, you bury your face into his couch and let moans disappear into its material. Jungkook follows right after you, not being able to hold it for much longer as he comes inside the condom.
He stays inside for a moment, softening slowly as he carefully helps you to turn around. He sits back on his knees, condom soiled by your cum and juices but none of you move.
You stare at each other, smiles coming up at the same time as you silently giggle.
This is the best date ever.
#networkbangtan#ksmutclub#btswritingcafe#ficswithluv#bts smut#jungkook x reader#jungkook fic#jungkook smut#bts fluff#bts angst#bts au#jungkook fanfic#jungkook drabble#dilf!jungkook
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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.
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I love your writing!!!
Can i req Jjk men accidentally hurting reader during sex? If that’s ok w u, if not, it’s all good <33
JJK Men: Accidentally Hurting You In the Middle of Smexy Time
Summary: Things get a little too passionate in the middle of sexy time. And well, let's say tears are shed and not in a good way.
Characters: Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Nanami Kento, Choso Kamo, FAB!Reader
Word Count: 2,337
Warnings: Smut, mentions of blood, biting, injury, crack, fluff, it's a fluffy crack post
A/N: This was so much fun to write! Love my some little crack posts like this!! I hope you enjoy! 😆
Gojo Satoru:
You smirk as Satoru throws his head back against the pillows. His mouth is hanging wide open as your rock back and forth on his cock. Slowly teasing him, clamping down to the point that he’s writhing under you. His hands are holding your hips, squeezing you, urging you to go faster, to do something!
“Y-Y/N, I need more, fuck!” He bites down on his bottom lip, looking at your conjoined bodies. “You’re killing me, babe, please, fuck.”
“More?” You cooed your thumb, brushing over his bottom lip. “Does my poor Toru want me to fuck his brains out~?”
“Y-Yes!!” He cried out, growling as you slowly inched off his cock before slamming back down. “Hah! Ah fuck~!!”
You bounced up and down, and the squelching sounds of your pussy were nearly silent as Satoru cried out. How cute was he? Crying out like a whore while you used his cock. So pretty, the sight had you throbbing around him as you arched your back, playing with your breasts.
Satoru was whimpering as he watched your thumbs graze over your erect nipples. That wasn't fair! He wanted to suck on them, lap his tongue over the sensitive buds. He moved, thrusting up into you as he tried to sit up. The deep thrust and sudden jerky movement had you wobbling. You fell forward. Ready to brace yourself on his chest only to meet his head.
Your foreheads collided together in a sickening crack. “Ow!” Your hand flew up to your head as Satoru rubbed at his forehead, grimacing. “Ooooh fuck that hurt!” You pulled off of him, hurrying to the bathroom. “Toru!” You snarled, touching the already swelling goose egg forming on your head.
“S’ your fault.” You glared into the mirror as he stood in the doorway. His cock was still erect, your arousal glistening on the shaft. “You fell forward!”
“Because you thrust into me!”
“I only moved because I wanted to suck on your nipples.”
“And I got a goose egg instead!” Your pout was adorable as you poked at the bump on your head again. “Dammit! What are you going to do to make it up to me?” Satoru stiffened, eyes quickly meeting yours in the mirror.
“I'm sorry?”
“I said, what are you going to do to make this up to me? You promised you'd never hurt me. And look who broke their word Sa-to-ru-” Each syllable of his name had his cock twitching eagerly. He moved, lifting you off the ground and carrying you back into the bedroom. “Oh my god!” You squealed as he threw you on the bed, slotting between your legs.
“I’ll make the pain go away,” Satoru whispered, dragging his tongue down your body. “You'll feel better in no time.” He winked before dipping his head between your thighs, his matching goose egg on full display.
Geto Suguru:
“Mmm~ nngh fuck Y/N, you taste so fucking good.” Suguru breathes out against your pussy before his tongue flicks at your clit again. “So sweet and tangy, fuck I want more of you.”
You’re a mess underneath him; your back is arching off the living room floor, your shorts thrown somewhere behind the couch as the warm spring breeze blows through the room. It carries the scent of fresh blooming flowers and the promise of sunny days. Which meant allergy season was to follow with it.
You gasped, hands gripping Suguru’s bun as he pulled you closer to his mouth. “S-Suguru~!” His lips sealed firmly around your clit as his dark eyes locked on yours. Why did he look so pretty when he was eating you out? That had to be a crime somewhere in the world. But as his teeth ever so gently grazed over your clit, all other thoughts went flying out the window. “F-fuuuck! Hah! Ah fuck!”
Suguru moaned, alternating his technique from nibbling your clit, to writing his name against you, using the tip of his tongue. His skills were being used at full force, eager to get you to cum all over his tongue before he fucked you right here in the living room. He knew it wouldn't take much for you to cum.
You tightened your grip on his hair, a familiar feeling settling over you. But it wasn’t your orgasm, no, this feeling was in your sinus’. It was a burning sensation that had your nose scrunching as your toes curled. Feeling a sneeze approaching, you covered your nose with your elbow as you sneezed hard, jerking against Suguru’s face. The sudden jerky movement from your sneeze startled your boyfriend so much that he slammed his teeth shut.
Just as he was nibbling on your clit.
You screamed in pain, your thighs clamping around your boyfriend's head as you yanked him away. Those dark eyes that had just been filled with lust were now filled with fear. You curled in on yourself, hands dipping between your legs, cupping your pussy. This new throbbing sensation was not at all enjoyable. Suguru sat back, staring at you in shock as tears stained your cheeks.
“Oh fuck, I bit your clit.” He stated the obvious.
”Yeah! No shit!” You barked back, tears still flowing down your cheeks as you grimaced.
“Oh fuck, what do I need to do? How can I help? I’m so sorry.”
”I don’t know, Suguru!” You sat up, still cupping your wet sex. “No one has ever bit my clit before!!”
The silence is almost palpable between you before Suguru turns to your couch. “Hey, Google, what do I do if I bite my girl—”
“Don’t ask out Google Home, you freak!”
In the end, Google provided you with the answer: Hot water, antibacterial soap, and ibuprofen.
Nanami Kento:
Hot water hit your back as Nanami fucked you from behind. Fuck it was so steamy, and you were talking about the water. Nanami was like an animal slamming into you over and over again. His grunts and growls bounced off the bathroom walls, making your cunt throb harder. God, he was so hot; everything about this was so hot.
All this happened because you mentioned you’d never had shower sex before. Best confession you’ve ever made!
Nanami grabbed a handful of your hair by yanking it. “Head up, love, I don't want you getting dizzy.” He was utterly perfect and patiently led you through this experience. Nanami was making it an overwhelmingly pleasurable experience! “Now, put your foot up here.” He grabbed your leg, positioning it on the edge of the tub. “And enjoy the ride.”
That was the only warning you were given before Nanami pulled all the way out before slamming back inside of you. You arched, silently screaming as he set a pace that had your skin slapping against each other in a beautiful harmony. God fuck, holy fuck he was so deep in this position. You could feel his cock hitting your g-spot and cervix perfectly with each thrust.
“N-Nana! Nanami!” you cried out as he slammed into you harder with a grunt, water going everywhere, from the walls and the side of the tub for the mere force of his thrusts. “K-Kiss, kiss me.”
“As you wish.” Kento’s lips found yours in a heated, passionate kiss. You felt yourself drawing closer and closer to your orgasm. Feeling you could squeeze around his thick cock, Nanami slid his hand over your stomach, pushing down on your back and making you arch.
This was a position you had done countless times in the past. On hotel balconies, against walls, and in his office. The only difference this time was that water was involved. When he suddenly pushed you forward, your foot on the tub's edge slipped. You fell forward, grabbing the shower curtain for support.
“Y/N!” Nanami tried reaching you, but it happened so fast. You slipped, falling out of the side of the shower. Your shoulder collided with the bathroom countertop. Nanami knew it was bad the second he heard a loud pop. The pain hit you like a train as you landed on your side, gasping out a strangled scream.
Nanami turned the water off and jumped out of the shower, grabbing a towel and draping it over you before dropping to his knees. “Oh fuck, that hurts.” You winced, your fingers and neck numb. “That hurts bad!”
“Here, let's get you up.” As Nanami helped you stand, both of you winced at the same time as you assessed the damage. That popping sensation was the sound of your shoulder dislocating; your arm dangled uselessly at your side. “Y/N, I'm so sorry. I should have been more careful.”
“No, no, it's okay! It was an accident, Ken.” You sighed, turning to look up at him. “We should go see Shoko.” Nanami huffed out a sigh, nodding his head before leaning down to kiss your cheek.
“I’ll call us a car.”
You followed after him, groaning. “Do you think Gojo will be there?” Nanami froze midstep, turning to face you as he got dressed. “He wouldn't let us live this down. He might even submit our story to one of those trashy television shows like ‘Sex Sent Me to The E.R.’ or something like that.”
“On second thought, we're going to the hospital.”
Choso Kamo:
“Choso!” Yuuji yelled from the living room of the apartment. Voice muffled from behind the closed door of the bedroom. Choso loved his brothers, but right now, he was more in love with being balls deep inside of you.
Your boyfriend's hand was clamped over your mouth as he rocked into you as hard as he could. If you both were quiet enough, maybe he'd leave. Yuuji called out for his older brother again as you whined against his palm. His cock throbbed, the bed rocking faster as Yuuji muttered something that sounded like a goodbye before the apartment door opened and shut.
The second he realizes you two are good, he pulls his hand away. “Awe, Cho~ are you shy?” Choso glances down at your smug smirk before he flushes.
“Y-You're his teacher. I-Isn't it strange?”
You purse your lips in thought before smirking. “What’s strange is the fact that you aren't fucking me right now, Choso~” With wide eyes and red cheeks, your boyfriend did as precisely as you asked.
His hips bucked forward, his large hands moving from the sides of your head to your thighs, where he spread your legs further apart. You screamed out, throwing your head back in pleasure as his trailed kisses over your collarbone. He was so deep, you didn’t want to let him go; your cunt hugged him tight, making it difficult for him to pull out.
The constricting grip your pussy had on him made Choso’s eyebrows scrunch together as his balls slapped against your ass. You were so wet and tight. If you kept squeezing him like this, he wasn’t going to last very long at all. But from how you squirmed, surely you weren’t doing any better than him.
“Choso~! Choso~! Oh fuck~! Yes, baby, baby, please~!!”
“Y/N, fuck! Haa— I’m going to cum~ I’m so close~!” He gritted out, the bed squeaking under you from the force of his thrusts.
“Choso!!” He flinched, hearing the door slam open again in the living room. “Bro, I know you’re here! I can see it on the Find My Friends app!”
“Just like that! Just like th-mmmmph!!” Choso's hands flew up, hitting you in the mouth and nose. Harder than he meant to. Your eyes stung as your nose throbbed painfully against the palm of his hand. “Mmnn.” You cried out, tears welling in your eyes.
Choso’s head was turned to the bedroom door. His chest was rising and falling as he listened to Yuuji, and oh god, was that Megumi with him? Why were they heading this way? You both had to do something! Oh, right, you would know what to do! Choso’s head whipped back to you as he felt something warm spreading over his palms.
Tears were sliding onto his fingers, your tears. Choso quickly jerked them away, and he was met with a gory sight. Blood was smeared under your nose and over your lips. The stream of tears made pink streams run down your chin as you sat up, reaching for a tissue.
“Y/N?! Oh sweetheart, fuck I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” He glanced at the palms of his hands that were stained crimson. “I didn’t mean to hit you that hard!”
“No! It’s okay!” Your voice was muffled as you squeezed gently on your nose to stop the blood flow. “You were distracted. Plus, it’s not like I haven’t been hit in the nose before.” You gave him a thumbs-up with your free hand. “Just the first time it’s happened when I was having sex!”
Just before Choso could take over holding the tissue for you, his door flew open. “Choso!?” Yuuji was about to walk in, but he froze, taking in the scene before him. His older brother, under the sheets naked, was in bed with his teacher, who squeaked, hiding her also very naked body against his brother.
And there was blood, lots of blood.
In a panic, Choso tried to get up to explain what was happening. But Yuuji slammed the door before silence rang out. Choso’s head dropped while you kept holding the tissue to your nose.
“I-I’m going to the movies with Megumi and Kugisaki. I’ll be home later, Choso.”
“A-Alright, be careful.”
“See you on Monday, Y/L/N-Sensei!”
Choso sat there mortified as he processed what had just happened. Not only did he unintentionally hurt his girlfriend, but his younger brother had walked in on him. The stuffy giggle that slowly had him turning his head to look at you. Your smile was wide, and your cheeks were flushed. That shy grin made his shoulders feel lighter. He knew the two of you would get through this awkward situation together.
#jjk smut#jjk x you#jjk x reader#jjk reader smut#jjk y/n#jjk#jjk reader insert#jjk gojo smut#jjk men#jjk geto#jjk drabbles#reader x gojo#jujutsu gojo#gojo smut#jjk gojo x reader#gojo imagine#jjk geto smut#suguru geto smut#geto suguru smut#getou suguru x reader#geto imagines#jjk nanami smut#nanami kento smut#jujutsu kaisen nanami#kento nanami#reader x nanami#nanami imagine#choso smut#choso x y/n#choso fluff
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PICK A CARD: Your FS' Secret Kinks
❦ “She lowered her lashes until they almost cuddled her cheeks and slowly raised them again, like a theatre curtain. I was to get to know that trick. That was supposed to make me roll over on my back with all four paws in the air." - Raymon Chandler, The Big Sleep
Disclaimer: This is a general reading, take what resonates. This is a gender-neutral reading, change any pronouns to apply to you.
p1 → p2 ↙︎ p3 → p4
✦ Pile One ✦
Poor lil pooh pooh. This person struggles to “fill their cups up” so they get off on denying themselves pleasure. They secretly like the feeling of hitting whatever rock bottom looks like to them. Honestly, they want to be saved. They are wallowing at the bottom of a well, waiting for their savior to swoop in and throw them a rope.
In a more literal sense, they want a person to be their reason to live. Their reason to feel daylight on their skin again. Everyone and everything around them is unsatisfying and “fake”. They want something real to coax them out of their hell and entice them with all the thrilling things life has to offer.
However, they also like this dark and brooding side of themselves. They have a bit of a corruption kink.
They fantasize about a virginal angel coming down to save them, but they end up convincing the angel to sink down to their level.
They like exciting, spontaneous people who are willing to jump up and run out the door to do something fun at any moment, but think innocent fun. Like going to the movies to theater hop, and getting away without paying. Or, running around the Target parking lot in shopping carts and trying not to bang into cars. Maybe even steal a few street signs.
Innocent childhood fun that you’d see in early 90s movies. But add a sadistic twist to it that only they are aware of.
You would be the innocent virgin (doesn’t have to be true, it's their fantasy) who is unknowingly leading this beast (also not true, they are just extremely self-deprecating) to your pretty little happy places which they plan to desecrate.
They want to fuck you in your family home and make a mess of your childhood bed, making you scream so loud that you’re family starts to look at you differently. They want to take you to your favorite movie spots where you usually chill and hangout with your friends and turn it into a place where all you can think about is them covering your mouth in the back of the theater while you’re squirming in their lap, trying to escape out of their grip as they edge you to the new Marvel release.
They have a kink for turning all of your innocent, fun moments into their very own filthy fantasies.
Ps. Fisting came out of the blue so lube up!
Come To Me, My Senseless Angel
✦ Pile Two ✦
I don’t believe this is a future spouse, to be honest. This might be a situationship you need to move past. They seem emotionally immature, or at least this is a side of them that exclusively comes out when they’re aroused.
They can be quite abrasive and feel like they are constantly under attack so they’re incredibly defensive. They have a history of lashing out at their loved ones when they feel overwhelmed and get so blinded by their emotions that they disregard their affection for their partners and say really unforgettable, harmful words which permanently alters the connection for the worse.
They carry guilt from these actions and are in a constant state of regret. In this state, their sense of pleasure is a little twisted. They get turned on by causing a genuine issue in the relationship. They like the idea of pushing you to your limit where you’re this 🤏 close to your breaking point and at your absolute lowest. It’s when you reach your rock bottom and realize the need to move away from this person and you scream out, “I DESERVE BETTER THAN THIS.”
They like to grovel. You know that cycle where somebody fucks up and then they’re in the dog house buying flowers and being extra fluffy just to get in the victim’s good graces so they can do the same thing over again. So far, pile one and two’s respective partners like to feel like shit. They secretly like the moment where they completely fuck up a relationship and have to beg on their hands and knees to get their person back orrrrrr they get off on emotionally tearing someone down to the point where they get on their knees to bed for this person’s attention.
Either way, there's a lot of fucked psychological issues underneath this fantasy that I’m not unpacking here because it differs from person to person.
In its best light, this person glorifies struggle love. At its worst, this person is purposefully emotionally abusive with the intent to tear their partner down for their own sexual gratification.
They’re conscious enough to know their actions are toxic but don’t have the emotional maturity to work past their actions. They’re at the phase where they’re just aware and are like “I know I’m shitty but that’s just who I am. If they stick with me and the sex is good, it’s meant to be.”
I’m honestly getting twitter relationship hypotheticals with this one. Iykyk.
They’re also an edgelord. Less in an internet cockroach way and more in a witty- can be funny if done well- way, but they get pleasure from shocking people nonetheless. This energy can be directed toward you to piss you off and annoy you with the intent of getting in your pants later.
I’ve been guided to switch the conversation briefly: If this resonates and is someone you are dealing with. It is time to move on. This person gets gratification from hurting you and will not get past that high of tearing down a relationship and then having a messy recovery. They have their own issues to work through and cannot see how they are hurting you. There is no future with this person, they came into your life to teach you a lesson about your self-value. That cycle has run its course and it's time to move on.
To be honest, I’m not a fan of this person and don’t even want to list the explicit kinks that came out but I will just in case this message is for you but you’re not sure.
Random messages: Hot tub/pool sex, hair pulling, break down crying, interracial, milk, broken condom, “i fucking hate you”, “whore”, mirror, drunk sex, complaining, smack a bitch, twitter
P.S. You’re too sexy for the bullshit! There is bigger and greater out there, you just need to believe that for yourself!
This person will not get a mood board out of me.
✦ Pile Three ✦
Okay, so this person has some deep religious guilt. This is a male presenting person. I am being clear with their sex because it plays a role in this reading. They have some majorly repressed feminine energy. They may even be attracted to the same sex.
This is a fs reading, so they are likely bi, pansexual, or trans. Either way, their family is close-minded and is not supportive of them. They were forced to leave home so they could finally live their truth. They have lived their entire life fitting somebody else’s narrative. They were the hypermasculine bro type to “cover up” their femininity.
So, they have a kink for hyperfeminity. It’s almost to the point where they obsess over the caricature of girlhood. I see lots of pink, high heels, full-glam, all-day mall shopping, pinup curls, flashy jewelry, sleepovers, day spas, that scene in Scott Pilgrim where that girl is like “SHE’S PROBABLY LIKE 25!”, and everything else that gets associated with “girlhood” nowadays.
They fantasize about you in your receptive energy, being waited on and cared for hand and foot. They like to observe the way you move. Everything about you and your feminine aura is incredibly alluring to them. The way with each breath your breasts fall, the way your hips swat with each step, the cute way you match your accessories with your outfits. They notice everything about you.
You know those paintings of wealthy women lying on their sides and being fed grapes? That. They’re not in the serving role, they're the painter. Their kink is capturing you in those everyday moments where the world seems to be waiting on you like you’re the collective’s queen.
They see femininity in a higher light than the general population. They see women as automatically deserving of this type of care, they also want this care.
They have a secret hard-on for pregnant women and women with swollen breasts. They have a lactation kink. They fantasize about cumming in you over and over again. They see you as a Goddess, so they want to see you masturbate at church on an altar, like you're waiting to be worshipped.
A lot of their fantasies, they’re not even included in. It’s just you looking God-like and being worshipped by the world around you. This person may hate when you wear clothes. They act like the fabric is committing a sin by covering your body. They just want to capture your essence. Like an admirer and a student.
P.S. Dick game goes CRAZY. They watch a lot of women-focused porn to study what gets a woman off. Like Maddie in Euphoria, here is there to study.
Pretty In Pink
✦ Pile Four ✦
WE GOT A PLEASURE DOM IN THE BUILDING Y’ALL STAY CALM. As my mama would say, they love your dirty drawls!
You could do no wrong in this person’s eyes. They’re the golden retriever type. Head empty, leading with heart and IN LOVE>>>>>
You are the pot of gold and the end of the rainbow they’re chasing. They appreciate a good fling but they’ve never felt this before. The emotions you stir in them are unprecedented, this is puppy, sandbox love that most people lose touch with after life jades them.
This is raw love at its most unprocessed. I taste honey.
They have a kink for the power you have over them. It’s like you have a carrot on a stick and they’re the pig being led to a love den they can’t escape. And they’ll happily be the squealing pig in every lifetime they get with you. This is a soul yearning.
You will know this person because they will proactively pursue you and they will have no doubts in their mind about it. They are really attracted to your physical form, your curves. Even if you’re on the slimmer side, they like your structure and the dips in your spine. They’ll stare at you when you’re talking and zone out, thinking about how attractive they find you.
They’re not used to having to try to get someone to sleep with them. They have to put effort towards you and they like that. This person is downright thirsty and craves intimacy with you.
Their fantasies aren’t even dirty, they’re passionate. They want to put you in a mating press, with your knees pressed all the way up beside your ears. They want to penetrate (could be with a toy) deeply and touch that gooey part of you that makes you see stars.
They want to see an imprint of them in your lower belly. Any position where you’re in their arms is a go for them because they like having you. They want every moment to be just you and them away from the world. So very sweet and intimate. They also love marking you, expect lots of hickeys.
Ignore them from time to time too (healthily, these conditions should be discussed beforehand)! They see you as the ultimate prize, so if you delay their satisfaction, they’ll feel like they’re chasing again, which gets them off. They like to feel like they’re convincing you to sleep with them. You both are consenting, but they like the idea of you having better things to do and they’re trying to convince you to stay and party with them.
They are very action-oriented and love movement. Anything that involves an adventure together, they are down for.
PS. Surprise them with a bubble bath together, they’ll love that. And tease them while pulling their hair a bit!
Ode To My Darling Sun
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