#twdubcon

[darlingdarkly]

New Year, New You Part 8

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish x f!reader

Personal Trainer AU

9k words

CW: dubcon!, dark fic, dark content, obsessive behavior, dirty talk, explicit language, E rated, NSFW, smut, 18+, mature themes, gaslighting

Part 1, 7, 9

You grill him with questions, demanding him to explain to you what he’s talking about. It seems obvious to you that he knows something he’s not letting on. The words fly from your mouth in a panic. “What do you mean it’s not safe? What are you talking about, Johnny? Explain!”

You see him get a little heated, a reaction you hadn’t expected, in fact the whole exchange following your inquisitions is so out of left field that it renders you speechless.

“Obviously hen, ye were a victim of a crime last night. Do ye nae see that?” You hadn’t seen that, it was so hard to remember anything about last night that drawing any kind of conclusion had so far been beyond you.

He sees it starting to click and continues, striking while the irons hot. “How many times in the past have ye gotten black out drunk, bonnie?” You have certainly had your fair share of ragers but black out drunk? To the point of almost total memory loss? Never.

“Did ye really think wakin’ up an’ nae bein’ able tae remember a damn thing was normal? Open yer eyes, lass.” He did this so well it seemed, had a way of breaking you down and making you feel small just to build you back up how he saw fit, cutting through the walls and all the bullshit to speak directly to you in a way no one before him had. It was humiliating and liberating all at once.

He sees he’s made his point. “Ah’m nae kiddin’, lass. I think ye were drugged las’ night an’ ah’d say yer awful lucky ah showed up when ah did.” His voice had taken on a kind of verbal growl, Scottish accent deepening so that it was almost hard to understand. He seemed genuinely upset, more than you could seem to get even though you were the victim, but you could feel it settling into your bones now, the unease.

Your face must be a mask of your emotions because he starts to calm now that he feels he's gotten through to you and he takes your hand into both of his. “Ye need tae understand somethin’, hen.” He seems to be mulling over the words in his head, unsure of the next thing to say. “I care about ye, I want ye tae be safe an’ happy an’ I think ye should stay with me. It’s nae safe fer ye tae be livin’ on yer own.”

You feel a bit surprised at his candidness, a show of emotions you hadn’t expected and it sends a hot flare up from your stomach and heats your cheeks. “Johnny I can’t stay.” He forces his gaze to yours, holds you hostage with it. “Why nae?”

That’s a good question, one you didn’t have an answer for. Why couldn’t you stay with him? Would it really be so bad? You’d been living on your own for so long maybe you were afraid of that change.

You opened your mouth to answer but he stopped you before you could. “Jus’ think about it. I’ll ask ye again tonight an’ if ye dinnae want tae, ah willnae make ye.” He closed it with that, getting up off the bed to signal the talk was over. “Come on, time fer yer warm up.”

After changing, you followed him out the door and into unfamiliar territory, the rest of the house you’ve yet to see. He leads you into an open living area that blended into a nice big kitchen. The house looked like it could house a whole family let alone just the two of you. You followed as your head craned and took it all in. The rent must have been astronomical but it was still Johnny’s house and he didn’t bother with extravagancies. It was spacious but also sparsely decorated making it look huge in perspective.

You cut through the space and into another room. You hadn’t really expected him to have a personal home gym, since he worked at one you naturally assumed he’d just go to work to exercise. The middle of the room was empty and matted, heavy duty, black pads interlocked like puzzle pieces made a twelve by twelve square in the center. The walls of the room were lined with full weight racks, adjustable benches, a treadmill and a power tower.

He stops in the middle of the black square and motions for you to sit. You sit, criss cross applesauce, across from him and he motions for you to begin. You start to go through your warm ups, starting with your sit-ups. He holds your feet and keeps count for you, his grin widening as you progressed.

Today was different and in more ways than one, when you’d finished he had you sit up and hold his feet, meaning for this to be a joint session for the both of you instead of just one sided as it normally was. You had to sit with your knees on the toes of his feet to keep him weighted down and he went for three reps of twenty instead of ten. You could feel the strength he possessed, the power held in the corded muscles of his thighs and calves by just holding him down.

You moved through the first set and into the next, keeping count of his push ups and even clumsily crawling up on his back when he insisted on needing your added weight. While it’d only really been a week since you’d stopped, you found that you’d come to miss this. Partly the healthy routine you’d built with him and partly his presence itself. Slipping back into it was not only easy but welcoming and this new way of having him doing it right along with you was something you secretly found yourself falling in love with.

You practically floated through your warm ups, hardly feeling the burn of them. You sat on the mat with your legs stretched out in front of you in a V. Without any assistance from him you managed a full, complete split and you couldn’t quite hide the elation you felt when his eyes lit up and praise poured from his lips.

Limber and pliant you both rose up from the mat and he walked you over to the power tower, standing out from you as you positioned yourself underneath the pull up bar. You jumped and grabbed ahold of the cool metal. You began, pulling yourself up until your chin passed the bar and then dropping down again.

It was hard but you were determined to finish, huffing and puffing by the last rep but still able to pull yourself past the point without stopping. You caught your breath as he muscled through his. You had long recovered when he finally jumped down, making your measly three look like light work as he managed a solid fifteen before finally coming to a halt.

You knew the next portion was the treadmill but as you made to mount it he stopped you. “Let’s go fer a real run, what dae ye think?” You stopped to consider it. You’d always wanted to go for a real jog, much preferring the open air of outside to the confines of an automated conveyor belt but had been much too scared to attempt such a thing on your own.

You’d always heard stories of women going out on jogs and simply never returning, their bodies found weeks later floating in rivers or lying in ditches. As alluring as the idea was your fears had always kept you inside but with a man like Johnny by your side you could pretty much garuntee total safety.

The prospect of finally getting to do as you pleased excited you and you found yourself chomping at the bit to go. He grabbed his house keys and escorted you to the door, locking it tight behind him and stepping up beside you on the sidewalk. “Are ye ready?”

You smiled at him and nodded, it must have been contagious because one of his own sprung up on his face, lighting it up and making his blue eyes sparkle in the sun.

“There’s a park just doon the way. We’ll head there, do a lap an’ loop back.” You started at a light jog and was pleasantly surprised to see him keep the pace you’d set. You were a bit worried you’d be struggling to match him the whole way, although he did talk most of the way while you struggled to manage anything more than one word replies.

It was a beautiful day, the weather was mild and there was a cool breeze at your back like gentle fingers prodding you encouragingly along. You were suddenly glad for this strange turn of events, as troubling as it seemed at first. Feeling down all last week and then reluctant to go out with Nancy, the anxiety you’d felt in the drive to the club and then somehow ending up in Johnny’s bed the next morning.

Somehow even unable to remember any of the events from the night before, something that, in all reality should leave you mortified and sick left you only feeling a strange sense of calm, like in the end it had all worked out how it was meant to be. You found yourself thinking about this morning and how he’d been almost mad at you for not being more concerned about last night, but you just couldn’t feel it.

There was eventually an underlying sense of unease that he’d practically forced onto you but it was only fleeting, like someone who’s fallen asleep at the wheel only to wake up in the hospital and be informed that you were lucky to be alive. It was hard to understand the reality of your danger when you’d walked away unscathed and without really having experienced it.

Maybe it was shell shock and you just weren’t completely grasping the reality of the situation but you weren’t holding your breath, and as far as taking him up on his offer you just weren’t all that convinced. While it was, admittedly, a problem that you’d drank too much and been unable to make it home last night, you failed to see any real danger in living by yourself.

You’d been doing fine thus far and didn’t see why that should have reason to change. You decided then that you’d made up your mind, you’d spend the day with Johnny, as gratitude for taking such good care of you in a time of need and just to enjoy it as well, it was only early in the afternoon but it was turning out to be a pretty good day in your book. You’d tell him later on when he asked that there really was no reason for you to stay with him. He’d understand, you were sure.

“Lass?” You were pulled away from your thoughts and back to the present. “Hmm?”

“I said what do ye think about havin’ fer dinner. I make an ossobuco that’ll bring ye tae tears.” You had no idea what that was but just expressed your interest anyway as you turned off of the sidewalk and into the entrance to the park.

It was one you recognized, beautfiully landscaped and as old as the hills, this park had been around for as long as you could remember, although it’d been ages since you’d been. They’d updated the playground and had redone the bridge over the pond, there was a flock of geese preening themselves on the surface of the dark, calm water.

You came to a stop at the peak of the bridge, glancing down at your Fitbit and checking your pulse. Johnny leaned his forearms onto the railing and leaned down for a look into the pond as you both caught your breath. He broke the peaceful silence that had settled between the two of you.

“I brought me mum here once. She used tae love feedin’ the swans at the pond near our house when I was wee. Used tae take me over there on our morning walks and I used tae make her laugh tryin’ tae catch one. Ah’ve taken more than one swan nip tae the arse as a lad.” You couldn’t help but laugh imagining him chasing the birds that probably matched him in size as a kid and then laughed some more as you imagined them chasing him, angry and nipping at his heels.

He laughed with you and as you nestled in next to him to stare out on the pond, just as the fit settled he leaned in close, nudged up against your side. “Ye’ll meet her if ye stay long enough ye know. She’d love ye.”

You felt a pang of uncomfortable awkwardness as he brought up the idea of you staying again. You didn’t want to dissapoint him by ruining the moment but you didn’t want to lead him on either. “Johnny…”

He stopped you. “Nae. Dinnae say anything yet. Ah was jus’ sayin’.”

You fell back into silence, a much more uncomfortable one this time but he wouldn’t let it set in as he pushed you back into a jog and lead you over the end of the bridge. It looped back around to where you’d started and it was only a quick jog back to his place where you ended your session for the day.

You both go inside and head for the kitchen, he pulls a blender hidden in a cabinet and sets it up on the counter before pulling out a litany of fruits along with a knife and small cutting board. He chops as he talks, going over your progress and performance, comparing it to your starting time and pace and mooning over the results.

He stops talking as he dumps the fruit into the blender and turns it on, the concoction inside swirling into a deep green slurry. When it’s homogenous he stops and pulls two glasses from a different cupboard. The juice makes a wet plop as it fills the glass and he slides one your way after sticking a bright orange straw down into its depths.

You pull it in front of you and take a long sip, confident in his smoothie skills at this point and relish in the way the sweet cool drink slides over your tongue and down your throat, already working to rejuvenate you.

He downs his quickly, an amazing feat that would surely leave you numb with brain freeze. Setting the glass down in the sink he rounds the counter to you. “I’m goin’ tae take a quick shower and then it’s yer turn.” He slides up close, lean chest pressing into your back and placing a kiss on the back of your neck that sent chills down your spine. “Unless ye want tae join me, that is.”

You do want to, nothing sounds better but you’re still tired from your session and you’ve experienced Johnny in his fulty, intense and unrelenting. If you went at it now you may never recover so you decline, opting to finish your drink and wait your turn. He leaves you and you turn on the stool to take in the decor. The little there is of it seems to be concentrated on a shelf in the corner.

You hop off the stool and walk tentatively over to it, surveying the shelves. There’s a few trophies, the plaques on each read that they’re awarded from some gym for a weightlifting competition. His name and the years were engraved in the middle of the plaque, he’d won them three years consecutively.

The other shelves were adorned with photographs. You glanced at them one by one, picking out Johnny’s radiant smile in each. Here’s one with him on the bank of a river, huddled together with a bunch of people all wearing the same bright orange helmets and yellow vests in varying states of soaked, they’re all holding short stubby oars and smiling.

The next one is a much larger group of people, they’re all different ages but share similar qualities, their eyes and noses on different faces but seem to be shaped from the same clay by the same hands. They’re assembled in front of a sign that reads “MacTavish Family Reunion” and it takes you a moment to pick out Johnny from the crowd of baby blues and deep rich browns. You finally spot him clustered in the back with two other young men hanging off of his shoulders. They look like three of a rambunctious kind.

Beside that is Johnny in a long black robe and mortarboard, from the cap dangles a dark green tassel that hangs in the poofy frizz of long dark brown curls belonging to a shorter stout woman. Her eyes are so bright and shockingly blue they couldn’t belong to anyone other than Johnny’s mother. She looks soft and sweet but strong as she beams at the camera. Her face exudes nothing but pride and adoration for her son. Johnny looks young and happy, his eyes reflect the yet untapped potential of the start of his adult life.

“That’s mah mum an’ I at mah graduation.” His sudden presence startles you and you’re glad to have only been leaning in to observe the photographs instead of holding them, you’re certain you would have dropped them had it been the case.

“Jesus, Johnny. You scared me.” He smiles, a deep grin that you can tell he’s a bit satisfied to have been able to give you a start, despite his following apology. “Sorry lass, Dinnae mean tae make ye jump.”

There’s a small span of awkward silence and to cease it you ask him about the first picture, the one by the river.

He lets out a small hearty laugh and reaches past you to lift the frame off the shelf, bringing it closer like having it here in his hands will give him a better feel for the memories they contain.

“Ah used tae go white water raftin’ all the time. This was a group I joined when ah started. We had just cleared a class four river fer tha first time.” You smile as he reminisces, telling just by his eyes that he’s reliving it a little as he talks.

“Do you still do it? River raft?” He shakes his head and places the picture back on the shelf where it had been. “Nae anymore. Too dangerous.”

He sighs a little, the golden memory disappearing and perhaps leaving a plume of mild gloom in its place but if it had affected him too badly it didn’t show, as his ever radiant smile resurfaced like it’d never retreated.

“Yer turn, hen. The bathrooms in mah room it’s the far door on the left.” You make your way back towards his bedroom as he stations himself behind the sink and busies himself with the dishes.

You pick through the bag on the bed, hem hawing over what to wear when you just decide to bring the whole bag with you into the bathroom. You turn on the shower and let it warm as you retrieve your soap, shampoo and conditioner.

After quickly undressing you step into the warm jet and let it soak into your skin. There was a lot to think about and showers had always seemed like the best time to ponder things. You’re still, even now, in awe at just how things had turned in the past day. You certainly didn’t believe you’d be showering at his place at this time the day before. You poured some body wash into your palm, lathering it as you ruminated.

And then there was his offer, so out of the blue and generous of him. To stay at his place with him and for what? Why? Because you’d drank a little too much the night before and just couldn’t recall any of it? While it’d never been the case for you before now didn’t mean it was impossible for you to become black out drunk. It wasn’t an impossibility, you’d read somewhere that the body's chemical makeup changes roughly every seven years. People all the time grow out of and even develop new allergies as their life progressed. Meaning it was completely possible for your reactions to an influx of alcohol to change over time.

At least, that’s how you justified it to yourself as you rinsed the suds from your skin and began to wash your hair. It just didn’t make sense to jump to conclusions so hastily. And stay for how long? Certainly he didn’t mean to tell you that you were welcome to move in indefinitely. You don’t just extend that kind of an offer to someone like that, he barely knew you. Or did he?

It didn’t matter. For now you just couldn’t bring yourself to impose upon him like that, even if he did offer it up so willingly and insistent. After dinner, you’d gently and politely refuse. He did after all say he wouldn’t make you if you didn’t want to.

You rinse off and turn off the stream, letting most of the water drip off you before stepping out and wrapping yourself in a warm, fluffy towel from the rack. You finally pick out an outfit and stick with it, pulling it on and cleaning up after yourself as you finished, you’d rather not leave a mess for him to contend with later on top of everything he’d already done for you.

You close the door to his bedroom behind you as you step out into the open living room. You had expected him to be unwinding on the couch but instead he was up and pulling on jacket, he had his shoes on and keys in hand. As he spotted you he smiled and stepped towards you.

“Ah need a few things from the store fer dinner. Will ye join me fer a ride?” You smile and nod, turning back towards the room to put on some shoes and retrieve your phone and wallet before joining him to leave. It’s a short walk through the front entrance of his home to the garage. It’s barren save for a big red toolbox and a few boxes stacked in a far corner. His truck takes up the majority of the space, a fairly new dark blue Toyota Tundra. Totally on brand for him, clean and gleaming under the fluorescent lights overhead. He pulls open the passenger side door for you to climb in, which flusters you a bit.

You scurry to climb into it and sit back into the comfy seat as he shuts your door and rounds the vehicle to climb in on his side.

You ride in comfortable silence as he drives you a few blocks down the road to the little grocery mart you’d been to on occasion when you were in need of something on this side of town. He parks and you’re glad to scoot out of the door and join him before he has time to come around and open the door for you again. The chivalry was nice but always managed to make you feel awkward instead of special.

You’re taken by surprise as he takes your hand in his and both make your way towards the entrance. The warmth of his hand envelops yours, his thumb draws lazy, soothing circles on the back of your hand and the flustered feeling you’d been feeling, a combination of the new experience of being seen with him in public and him being so gentlemanly, eases.

You walk side by side out of the car park and into the brightly lit store. He picks up one of the little baskets from a metal cage and begins veering towards the back of the store. He seems to know exactly what he needs and where it all is so you just lose yourself a bit in the moment, looking at things on the shelves and watching him as he shops.

Normally when you shop by yourself it’s a race. A race to get everything you need and get out as fast as humanly possible, it’s something about being out in public for too long that makes your skin crawl. But this. This is different. Something about being with Johnny puts you at an inexplicable ease. He’s confident and knowledgeable, and for once you don’t feel like your mind is moving a million miles a minute under the scrutiny of every other set of eyes in the building. You can just simply relax and be, let him take over.

In produce you watch him pick up three different onions that, to you, look no different but he rolls them in the palm of his hand and gives them each a light toss in the air. Somehow— that decides it and he puts two of them back and places the chosen one down in the basket.

Every time he lets go of your hand for something you’re sure that’s the end of it, just knowing the moment will be lost but he surprises you each time anew when he comes back to you and takes it again, leading you through the sections hand in hand.

You stop in the spirits aisle and grimace as he picks up a bottle of dry red wine. The front is embossed with a duck in a yellow slicker, an umbrella cocked jauntily and tucked securely under one white wing, shielding him from a shower of rain falling from a single dark cloud that looms over its head. In a bright gold scroll underneath this curious image are the words “Rain Duck”. The image is very reminiscent of the Morton salt girl you’d always seen in the spice cabinet of your childhood home.

He looks over and catches your look of disgust and laughs, a hearty cheerful sound that momentarily wipes the scowl from your face and threatens to send you into your own fit of meek giggles. “Dinnae worry hen, s’just fer the sauce. Will nae even taste it, ah promise.”

He sets it down in the basket and heads towards the front of the store to checkout. You stand in line and wait your turn until the cashier clears the person in front of you and Johnny begins to empty his basket onto the conveyor belt one item at a time.

By the time he’d finished, the cashier, a tall skinny man with dark rimmed glasses had already begun to ring you up and Johnny suddenly smacks the palm of his hand to his forehead. “Ahhhh shite. Ah forgot somethin’. Stay here with the groceries bonnie, I’ll be right back.”

He takes off in a power walk towards the back of the store and disappears around a shelf. You rock back and forth on your feet and pray that by the time the cashier is done Johnny will be back. You know if he’s not you’ll cave to the pressure of the people behind you and end up paying for everything yourself, just so you don’t hold the line.

You crane over the partitions of shelves that mark the separate checkout lanes in search of Johnny but your attention is redirected when the cashier clears his throat and calls out to you to get your attention. “Excuse me, miss.”

You turn, dreading the worst but there’s still a good amount of items left unscanned and he’s got the bottle of Rain Duck held past the scanner, looking to you attentively.

You let out a sigh of relief as you realize he only needs your ID to finish ringing up the wine. You pull your wallet from your purse and the relief you had felt instantly dissipates. The pleasantly relaxed state you’d been lulled into suddenly felt like the calm prelude to a horrifying nightmare. The clear plastic pane that normally covered your horrible ID photo was empty. You tipped it open, hoping for some horrible trick of the light or optical illusion but the sleeve was empty.

You quickly shuffled through the individual card sleeves, hoping against hope that you’d somehow slipped it into one of them by mistake but it wasn’t there. Your ID was missing. The panic sets in the pit of your stomach like a lead ball as Johnny squeezes up behind you holding a carton of heavy cream. His smile disappears when he sees your face.

He quickly sets the heavy cream down on the belt and puts a hand on your shoulder. “Bonnie, what is it? What’s wrong?”

The cashier calls out to him impatiently. “Sir?” Johnny looks up at him, with death glaring from his eyes before turning back to you. “Come on, lass. What’s the matter?” You whisper because it’s all you can muster, your vocal cords withered to nothing in fright.

“My ID. It’s gone.” The cashier tried again to get Johnny’s attention and you barely hear Johnny as he speaks very low and angrily at the man behind the counter. Johnny must have done as he asked though because soon enough you feel Johnny’s arms gently pulling you towards the exit. It makes you snap out of your horror for a moment and offer to help carry the bags back to his truck but he’s having none of it, insisting on carrying the whole load in two huge armloads all the way back himself.

You slip into the passenger seat as he puts the groceries in the back and only look up from staring at the lines in your denim jeans when the driver side door shuts and the cab is silent for a moment. He’s looking at you, very concerned and you realize he’s waiting for you to explain in more detail.

“My ID is gone. Completely gone.” He seems to think for a moment before he responds and asks if you’d checked your purse. You quickly do as he’d suggested and go through it but it’s not there either and the momentary hope you’d felt at his suggestion died almost as soon as it’d been born.

“Maybe I dropped it at the club.” A smile begins to form on your face as you grasp at anything other than the truth. “That’s it Johnny! We’ve gotta go back to the club. They’ll have found it cleaning up! And we can go get it and everything’s fine!” He doesn’t look convinced as you look over to him for validation.

“Lass, be honest with yerself fer a moment. How often do ye take yer ID out of yer wallet when ye need it?” Your smile began to fade, he was right. Anytime you needed it you just opened it and flashed it without ever taking it out of the slot, you’d bought that wallet specifically for that feature because you were so worried about losing it.

“I ken ye didnae want tae believe what happened tae ye, but there’s no denyin’ it now. Someone targeted ye last night. Picked ye out of the crowd and drugged yer drink when ye werenae lookin’ an’ they took yer ID in case they couldnae seal the deal right away. He’s got yer address an’ yer name an’ even yer picture.”

You listen to him talk as the cold, cruel hand of reality closes around your throat and the disgust of being violated in such a thorough way begins to worm its way under your skin. You can feel Johnny struggling to find words to comfort you from the seat next to you but he must not find any that are adequate because he starts the truck instead and drives you home in a silence that had on the way been comfortable and passive but now was pregnant with tension and doom.

You get back to his place and he unloads the truck as you sit inside and try not to panic at the situation you’ve found yourself in. You thank your lucky stars that Johnny had found you and brought you home now. If you’d somehow miraculously made it home without incident this mysterious man could have crept into your home while you were incapacitated and done any number of things to you. You imagined all the horrifying possibilities, each more daunting than the last as he unpacked and put everything away.

He must sense your spiraling thoughts because he calls you into the kitchen with him as he starts to cook. Chopping onions, heating shallow pools of oil in two different skillets, measuring out beef broth and flour and water in varying amounts as he practices the fine art of mise en place.

You try, really truly try not to let the fear of your predicament gnaw away at you too hard but it’s almost an act in futility. He looks up at you after cracking his third shot and missed joke while dredging the ox tails in flour and notices you staring down at your hands in deeply troubled thought.

He stops what he’s doing and comes over to the counter, bending down to lean over its sturdy surface and get your attention. You look up at him and feel your heart skip a little as he has no business being so damn attractive covered in flour like he is.

“Listen hen. I ken yer goin through it right now. Probably spooked right out of yer tree, but I promise ye yer in no danger here. I dare him tae walk through that door right now. I swear tae ye ill dismantle him with my flour covered hands before he even so much as touches a hair on yer bonnie head.”

You can’t help but smile as you imagine him wrecking your faceless oppressor, flour flying about in clouds as the impact of his blows knock it loose from his hands.

“There’s tha’ smile. Now be a doll an’ open mah wine fer me. I forgot before ah got all messy.”

You stand from your stool and open the drawer he directs you towards to locate the corkscrew. The rest of the preparation you do in a much better mood. While you had a brand new serious problem on your hands there was no need in sulking over it when there was nothing you could do at the moment and anytime spent with Johnny was hard not to enjoy.

He plated your portion and set you down across from him so he could watch your first bite. You wanted him to eat with you, a bit self conscious at him just watching you eat but he insisted he had to start on dessert before he could sit down to dinner.

You cut the big chunk of meat with your knife and fork and then dipped it down in the pool of sauce just as he’d instructed you to. He watched you intently as you brought the fork to your mouth and took your first bite.

Your eyes widen before half closing, you can’t help the soft moan that resounds as the tender meat and rich, savory sauce feel like they pull your taste buds into their arms and hug them soft and sweetly. It’s absolutely divine and you look up from your plate to see Johnny, smug as a bug grinning wolfily at your reactions.

“Told ye it’d bring ye tae tears.” You can’t even respond, just swallow and take another eager bite, this time with a little of the risotto from the bed that the meat is resting on. “Jesus Christ, Johnny. Where in the fuck did you learn to cook like this?”

His grin is so wide you’re worried it’ll be stuck that way and to your amusement you can tell his cheeks have reddened even under his nice, even tan. “Yer makin’ me blush, hen. S’just what ah’ve picked up along tha way. Ye could do it too. I could teach ye.”

You nod enthusiastically, you’d like that very much and you have a feeling so would he. You really dig into your meal in earnest as he works. His back is to you as he prepares dessert on the stove and you wonder just what it might be. Steam rises up in thin streams as he pours something into two ramekins and sticks them in the oven.

By the time you’re done he’s cracking into his own dinner as you begin working on the dishes. He protests but you stay firm that if he cooked the absolute least you could do was help clean up. He finally relented and let you work as he ate as quickly as he could so he could help dry the dishes at least.

By the time everything was done so was the dessert and he pulled it from the oven to cool as he leaned over the counter and held your gaze raptly with his. “It’s time, lass. What have ye decided?”

But with the way he’s staring you down it feels like he’s on the edge of his seat. Those blue eyes piercing yours and you know every second you don’t answer is killing him, you can read it all over his face so even though you’d made your mind up you told him you weren’t sure.

He looked a bit dejected but it wasn’t the broken disappointment you knew you’d have been graced with if you’d downright shut his proposition down. His eyes light up suddenly in a way you hadn’t been expecting like he’d just had the idea of a century.

“Play a game with me, lass.” You regarded him distrustfully. “What kind of game, Johnny?”

“I’ll show ye, come on.” You follow after him into the bedroom, a bit wary. He stops in front of the pull up bar and turns back towards you.

“Johnny you and I both know there’s no way I’m besting you in a pull up contest, I’d be mental to even try. It wouldn’t be fair.”

“Ohhh no, hen. Nothing like tha’, yer right t’wouldnae be fair. All I want ye tae do is hang from the bar. Can ye do that?”

You jump up and grab the bar to see if you’ve got the right idea and he smiles and nods. “Jus’ like that, all ye’ve gotta do is not let go. Think ye can handle it?”

You eyed him suspiciously. “What’s the catch?” You felt like there was something hidden in this that he wasn’t revealing and you weren’t wrong.

“Well it would nae be a game if there was nae some kind of a catch now would it, hen?” You swallow hard and watch him saddle closer, pinning you back into the cool metal bars.

“Ye’ve got tae hold yerself up until ye come.” His smirk widens as your mouth drops open a little, at first for some kind of rebuttal but you can’t come up with anything to say so it just hangs open as your mind blanks.

You finally get a grip enough to ask him to explain. “Well, yer goin’ tae hang onto tha bar an’ ah’m goin’ tae try mah hardest tae make ye come. If ye can hold onto it just until then, then you win but if ye cannae do it, an’ ye let go then I win.”

You mull over his terms and he just leans back a bit and lets you, waiting for your answer. Instead of giving him one you inquire further. “What do I get if I win?”

His answer is another simple question. “What do ye want?” A simple question that was complicated to find an answer for. What did you want from him? After a moment's thought you answered. “I want you to tell me everything you remember about last night and I want you to help me find this guy that did this to me. I don’t want to live in fear like this. You take me up to the club and we ask if they found my ID and if not then we ask to see the video footage of that night.”

“Hen, there’s no garuntee—“ You stop him. “I know. Just promise me if I win you’ll help me.” He looks a bit troubled, like he hadn’t meant for this to take this kind of turn and you wonder for a moment if he’ll back out.

“If I win ye have tae tell me the real reason ye never came back to the gym an’ never texted me an’ just disappeared.” You go to answer when he adds. “And ye stay.”

You sort of knew he was going to play that and even though you’d anticipated it, it still manages to fluster you hearing it.

You think about it real hard, just being around him had you more or less worked up all day, you were fairly confident that you could come quickly, even now just having discussed the game with him you knew your panties were damp. But could you hold yourself up for that length of time?

Reluctantly, you accepted. You even felt sure enough to jest him a bit about how easy of a win this would be for you, it was a decision you came to regret as he leaned in close to your ear and whispered. “Ah’m goin’ tae make ye eat those words, hen.”

A shudder of anticipation passed through you as he kissed you on your neck, just below your ear with a pass of his velvet soft tongue, giving you a little taste of what was to come.

The game had apparently begun as he stooped down to help shed you of your jeans, pulling them down and kissing the skin revealed as he exposed it. Next came your panties and they were damp, a fact that tore a rumble of approval from his chest but he wouldn’t touch you yet.

“Cannae give ye too much of a head start now can we?” He patted the side of your thigh curtly. “Up up.”

You do as he says and it’s a little late to be self conscious now but you can’t help it as you dangle from the metal rod and he spreads your thighs so you’re open to him. You worry he’s going to cheat you a bit as he stares at your bare pussy and you begin to complain when it dies in your throat as his tongue licks a broad stripe up the length of your slit. “Shit!”

He chuckles a little and dives in, resting his hands in the crooks of your knees but offering no support as he begins to eat you out in earnest. You can’t help but moan, your eyes glossy and unfocused as you stare down at him feasting on you from below. It feels like nothing you’ve ever experienced, the strain in your arms adding an element of pain that scratches a hidden itch in the back of your brain.

You shift in his hold uncomfortably as his tongue darts into your entrance, collecting your juices on his tongue and drinking them down. You want, so desperately, to be able to grip him by the Mohawk and hold onto him for dear life but you can’t so you squeeze the bar in your grip and sweetly moan his name instead.

His tongue finds your clit and it just about throws you over the edge but proves to be not quite enough as you chase it in hopes of victory. His hands squeeze and grope the flesh of your thighs and ass as he eats. You thought at the start of this that you would have had this in the bag but the stretch of your arms was outweighing the pull of your pleasure.

It wasn’t for a lack of Johnny’s enthusiasm, his head stayed buried in the heat of your pussy the whole time as he drove you towards the edge as quickly and efficiently as possible. Despite the burn in your biceps you could feel your orgasm building to a boiling point, you had no doubt you’d be coming soon but would it be soon enough for you to win?

He suddenly began to run quick sharp circles over the top of your clit with the pad of his thumb, while his tongue laps at your entrance like a bear to a beehive hole. It’s so good you can’t help but moan, low and dragging as you careen towards the center of the nova of pleasure threatening to consume you whole.

Your wrists tremble and a cramp unlike any you’ve ever experienced begins to glow like a white hot coal in your armpit and it’s beyond you to be able to hold on any longer. Your pinky finger slips first and then the rest quickly follow. You squeal as you realize you’re going to fall but his arms push your legs up onto his shoulders and he catches you just as you let go.

A flood of relief flows through your aching arms and you realize you’ve lost but the sting of defeat plays second fiddle to the massive orgasm that takes you by the throat just an instant later. He holds you up with the strength in his arms alone as you come undone above him. He spins around as your thighs still tremble and gently places you on the bed.

You are still very sensitive and your thighs go to clench shut when they’re blocked by one wide knee. He wastes no time in slotting himself between them, his mouth crashing to yours as you taste yourself on his lips and tongue. He cages you beneath him, pulling off your lips to bite and suck at your neck. His hands roam you freely, pulling at your top until it’s up over your head and lifting you up for access to the clasp of your bra.

With it successfully pulled away from your breasts he dives down and devours them, lips wrapping around one pert nipple as the other he gropes with the full palm of his hand, trying to hold as much of it as possible. You nearly shriek with the overstimulation of it and he pulls away to whisper both praise and apologies.

“Jus’ cannae help it, bonnie. Need tae be inside you, please? Let me fuck you, hen. Been cravin’ tha’ perfect little pussy. Come on, lass. Give it tae me.” He’s rubbing the very prominent bulge of his cock against your thigh all the while and you can’t help but clench around nothing in anticipation.

“Fuck Johnny! Do it! Fill me up.” He wastes no time, quickly abandoning your breasts to free himself from the confinements of his jeans. He doesn’t even get them down all the way before he’s fishing himself from his boxers and rubbing the tip hurriedly up and down your slit. You jump and squeal at the sensation and he coos more apologies at you before lining himself up and pushing inside.

You moan in unison as he stretches you open and his arms come up to brace himself on either side of your head. He muffles your moans with his mouth as he leans down and kisses you, swallowing them up as he begins to move and your hands fly to his arms, bracing yourself against the onslaught that is the drag of his fat cock.

You pull away for air and immediately expel it into a high pitched whine as he picks up a fast and steady rhythm, hips knocking into yours on each upward thrust. The fact that you've already came does nothing to alleviate the burn that accompanies the stretch of him. He’s a force and you can do nothing against it but hold on.

You try to make sense of what he’s saying as he fucks you stupid but only catch half of it. Something about keeping you safe forever. Poorly worded promises and vows pouring from his mouth as he uses you to reach his release.

You can feel it fast approaching and can do nothing but steel yourself against it as he pounds a second orgasm from you, the snap of his hips and the drive of his cock demands it of you. “Aww fuck, hen. Are ye gonna come fer me again? Hmm? Let me feel it. Come on lass, let me take care of ye forever. Ye can have this fer the rest of our lives if ye jus’ come fer me right now.”

He says it like you have a choice in the matter as you become locked in the throes of your ecstasy brought forth by his hand and in the midst of yours you vaguely feel him reach his. Coming hard and fast deep inside the tight clutch of your pussy.

It takes you both an eternity to recover and when he finally rolls off you, you realize you’d half fallen asleep, cradled safely under him, worn out and sated.

After a moment he gets up and leaves the room and he’s gone forever to the point where you almost get up to go after him but he comes back in with two small white dishes in hand along with two spoons.

You sit up on one elbow as he hands you one and the accompanying silverware. Looking down at it you can see a dark golden brown crust, a glassy glaze over the surface but are otherwise clueless as to what’s before you. You watch him experimentally as he takes the handle of the spoon in between his thumb and index finger and brings the bowl of the spoon down on top of the crust with an audible smack. The crust breaks and there’s a jiggly dense cream beneath.

Following suit, you bring your spoon down onto yours and scoop up a glob of the pale white gelatin. You take a bite and smile as the cool, sweet cream melts over your tongue. You sit there with him, basking in the afterglow of your orgasms and eating crème brûlée.

It gets you thinking, you could have this indefinitely. Do this every night if you’d like and as if reading your thoughts he speaks.

“I won, but the choice is still yers. Stay with me, hen. Ah’ll keep ye safe. No worries, no lookin’ over yer shoulder forever or double checkin’ yer locks all yer life. Let me take care of ye. I want to, an tha’s honest.”

You stare at him, his blue eyes are soft and filled with adoration and honesty. He really wants you here with him and is that really so bad? How many times are you gonna pass up this opportunity before it’s gone? And will you be looking back later with regret once the door has closed?

You have to drop his gaze to decide but recapture it once you do. You go to tell him “Ok, but only until I’ve found a new place.” but he seizes you in his arms after the first word and pulls you hard against him like a five year old child handed a cat and told they can keep it.

“Johnny! You’re squishing me!” You complain but the sensation isn’t entirely unpleasant.

He does everything with you side by side for the rest of the night. He changes with you, he brushes his teeth with you, he even lingers around when you try to go to the bathroom before bed, it takes a good amount of effort on your part to make him leave the room but you know he’s stood just outside the cracked door that he neglects to close on the way out.

Climbing under the sheets with him you wonder just how sleeping together for the first night is gonna go, actually wondering if you’ll get any sleep at all but then he pulls you into his chest and to your surprise he doesn’t try anything sexual. He doesn’t rub a hard bulge against you or grope your tits. He just wants you close, his warm chest filling out the dip of your back, his legs entangle themselves with yours, his feet even nudge yours affectionately in lazy passes.

It’s a while before either of you speak and Johnny thought you’d been long asleep when you say “I can’t afford a membership.” There’s a pause in your words and just when he understands what you’re saying you say more. “That’s why I didn’t come back to the gym, I thought it’d be easier.. for both of us.. if I just disappeared.”

And there’s something about your honesty, the way you’d remembered and honored your whole end of the bargain, the candidness of revealing you struggled with the decision, the mild sleepy drag of your voice that’s barely audible in the darkness that pulls directly on his heart and he couldn’t articulate a response if he’d tried so he doesn’t.

Maybe you believe he’s asleep and maybe it’s better that way. But he’s not. A few moments later he hears your breathing even out and he knows from the previous night that you’re asleep. He lays awake long after that holding you.

He thinks about you and how he’d finally got you to see reason. He thinks about times when the outcome of a situation is more valuable and important— the greater good one might say, than the means it took to reach it. Omelets, for instance, constitute broken eggs.

It takes a certain amount of necessary malice for these things. An agent who realizes what’s at stake and what’s to gain, willing to act on these conditions and set them right, no matter the cost. And lastly, he thinks about your ID, sitting snuggly behind his in his wallet. Tomorrow after he drops you off at work he’ll dispose of it. Maybe burn it, maybe shred it, maybe tie it to a heavy rock and throw it off the bridge at the park, watch it sink into the murky, goose poop filled pond until it gets too deep to see.

No one will know. But Johnny will. Johnny will know that in the end, his end, it justified his means. You are safe and you are his and there is no means too heinous, no act too profound to reach it.

#cod #call of duty #cod mw2 #cod x reader #john soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #johnny soap mctavish x reader #cod soap #twdubcon #dark!johnny #darkfic #johnny soap mctavish x you

[dreamingofaizawa]

Apologize

Pro Hero! Shinsou Hitoshi x Pro Hero! Female! Reader

***This is an 18+ fic. Minors DNI***

Warnings: noncon/dubcon (seriously it's very much not verbally consentual so be warned) dom/sub dynamics, brat/tamer dynamics, Shinsou being mean as fuck, breath play, humiliation(?), hatefucking, edging, light bondage, threat of heavier bondage, begging, nicknames (pretty girl, baby, baby girl, sweetheart, brat), he calls reader a bitch once, brat taming(?), sub drop, shitty ending cause my brain didn't want to imagine that bit. an itty bitty drop of yandere if you squint hard enough. lmk if I missed anything

Word Count: 2k

Author's Note: Nobody look at me, don't even percieve me. This came to me at asscrack o'clock in the morning while I was TRYING to sleep. Everyone can thank my insomniac brain for this. Honestly, fuck you brain. I need SLEEP. Anywho, I cranked this out in like an hour all in one sitting. Fun.

Anywho, enjoy~

***

He’s been relatively nice to you, in the short time you’ve known him. Working alongside the purple-haired hero has been pleasant, you’d even go so far to say it’s been fun. Little jokes shared here and there, random short games like tag in the middle of a slow midnight patrol.

But there’s always going to be sides of people you don’t know about, and it’s really only a matter of time before all hell breaks loose. It starts with a bad bad day.

You’ve both been hunting down a lead for a special case you’ve been assigned for the past week. Today you got so so close. It leads to a dead end. After that, it only gets worse. Dead ends, one after the other, as you try to backtrack your way through where you could have gone wrong. Nothing. And Shinsou is getting more frustrated by the hour as you both hunch over his desk, scouring the case file for anything that could help. At some point, you give up. Decide it’s better to let it go and pick it up another time with fresh eyes and rested brains. You try to be encouraging when you ask him to do the same and join you on the couch.

“C’mon, Shinsou. Relax just for a minute, at least. We’ll look at it again in a few, but you gotta give your brain a break.” He huffs, glares at you for even thinking to suggest that.

“I refuse to sit on my ass like you. I’ve got shit to do.” Now that makes you freeze. He’s never…accused you? Like that?

“Wait- what is that supposed to mean? I’m trying to keep my head on straight instead of stressing and possibly missing something. What do you want me to do?” He slams his fist on the desk, only managing to get a small jump out of you.

“I want you to do your fucking job.” What the fuck? You’re on your feet, slowly stepping toward him. It’s a challenge, really, for him to do or say anything like that again.

“What the fuck did you just say to me?” He straightens and steps around the desk toward you, meeting you in the middle of the room. Both your eyes burn into each other, anger heating the entire room and painting it deep red.

“You heard me the first time.” You huff out through your nose, right in his face, before swiftly turning to make your way toward the door.

“Fuck you, Shinsou. If I knew my ‘partner’ was such an asshole I’d have never agreed to this bullshit.” Yeah, you’ve been fine with him. But you have zero tolerance for bullshit.

And then, in some doomed stroke of luck, you’re pinned to the wall before you can even react. Your vision blurs as you’re spun, the wind is knocked from your chest as your back hits the wall and your entire body is pinned by his own. Both your wrists are swiftly gathered in one of his large fists above your head, and his other hand wraps delicately around your throat, deft fingers squeezing ever so gently.

“You’re being such a damn bitch. Don’t you know this is important shit we’re working on?” 

“What the fuck? You lash out at me and I’M the bitch?! Fuck o–” You’re cut off when his fingers squeeze hard, the rest of the word coming out garbled.

“Fuck, do you ever shut up? So vulgar, too.” You almost manage an eye roll, between trying to breathe and wriggling in his grasp in an attempt to escape. He’s playing with your breathing, squeezing in pulses and never letting up for too long. It’s making you dizzy, your chest heaving with every breath he so graciously granted you.

You hate to think it’s turning you on.

“I should gag you and string you up in the closet with my binding cloth. Maybe then I’ll be able to get something done for once.” He can feel your pulse quicken, see your pupils dilate just the tiniest bit and your thighs squeeze together ever so slightly. He’s got you right where he wants you.

“Oh? Little brat likes that idea? Well too fuckin’ bad, you don’t get what you like, or what you want.” He quickly spins you around and brings your hands down behind your back, securing them with that damned cloth of his, before slinking a hand around your throat again and pinning you to his front. 

“Now here’s what’s gonna happen. You’re gonna apologize for interrupting me, for slacking, and for being a brat. And you’re gonna convince me you’re sorry, or else you don’t get to cum. Understand?” Who knew he could be so damn sadistic? And so fucking self-centered. What a piece of work. And you make it known how you feel.

“As if I’d apologize to the likes of you. Jackass.” He only chuckles before wrapping an arm around your waist, slipping his hand down the front of your sweats and snapping the band of your panties against your skin. Fuck. Why can you feel yourself getting wet?

“Now, what do you think I’m gonna find down here, huh? Cause I can tell you’re already hot and bothered, all for me.” You squirm harder, wiggling around to get him off you. But were you really trying? You’re a pro hero for god’s sake, surely you could get yourself out of this even with your hands bound. But why would you want to, when you already feel this good?

He’s walking backward, dragging you along with him until he reaches the couch, plopping down and leaning against the arm, sprawling his legs along the cushions with yours over top of them. With your arms bound it’s easy for him to release your throat in favor of tugging down both your sweatpants and panties, chuckling at the dark patch right in the crotch of your underwear. He doesn’t say anything about it. You both know he was right earlier, you both know your burning embarrassment.

He drops both items to the floor before gripping both your thighs and prying them open, despite your nowhere-near-best efforts to keep them wedged shut. Your knees are either side of his and his ankles hook over top of your own to keep you spread for him. Exposed for him.

“Let’s try this again, pretty girl.” It’s sickly sweet, the way he says it. Mocking and praising at the same time. A hand is at your throat again while the other reaches down to glide his fingers between your folds. You’re wet. Really, really wet. You can hear the squelch as he gathers your juices on his fingers and spreads it over your clit, rubbing slow firm circles over the already swollen nub. You jolt, and he chuckles. Fuck this is humiliating. And so hot.

“Apologize, and I’ll let you cum. You’ve got all the time in the world. As long as you do it before you cum I’ll work you through it, I promise.” You don’t want to. Apologizing is just admitting defeat. He can’t play this game forever, you can hold out, you’re sure of it.

Except his fingers are moving faster over your clit, rubbing harder and working you closer to that edge. And fuck, if it doesn’t feel so good the be so close to cumming. Your legs are starting to tremble, thighs trying to close around his hand and your breathing is getting heavier. You’re so close. Just a little more.

And then he stops.

Your entire body jolts with the lost orgasm, and you bite your lip to keep from making any noise. You can’t let him know he’s getting to you. 

“Aw, did that not feel good baby? I’m sure you didn’t like me ripping that away from you. But it’s okay, you’ve got another chance to make it up to me.” And that isn’t a lie. You do get another chance. One you don’t take. He builds you up with just his fingers on your clit, dragging them away before you can fall over that blissful peak. It’s so frustrating, being so close and yet still so fucking far.

After the fourth or fifth time, there are tears in your eyes begging to fall, clumping your lashes together. Your thighs and abdomen burn from the constant tensing. And Hitoshi is getting annoyed.

So he starts again, running tight circles over your raw clit with those deadly fingers of his. But this time he dips two down into your pussy and curls them hard, slamming that spongy spot inside you. It’s so unexpected, so sudden you let out a loud, wanton moan as you arch off of him and buck your hips into his hand.

“There we go, baby girl. That’s it. Make some noise for me.” He doesn’t stop when your moans turn to whimpers and your whole body begins to shake with the intensity of your oncoming orgasm. You can feel that tight knot in your belly start to fray, pulling so tight it’ll snap any moment now, and the instant you start to cum he rips his fingers away from you. The tears you’d willed not to fall begin to stream down your cheeks, you’re too far gone to care that your sniffles and cries sound so pathetic. And you begin to grovel. Just like he wanted you to.

“Please -hic- please ‘Toshi, I wanna cum. Please let me cum it hurts.” He coos down at you, nuzzling his cheek against your own and you nuzzle right back, wrapped right around his sticky finger.

“Awe, poor baby. It hurts?” you nod, “Well, then you know what you have to do right? All you gotta do is apologize, and you can cum as many times as you want baby. Yeah? Doesn’t that sound good?” You nod again, whimpering into his mouth when he turns and ghosts his lips against yours.

“Go on then, sweetheart.” You shudder and hiccup some more, before finally giving in.

“I’m s-sorry, Shinsou. ‘M so sorry, I didn't mean to be a brat. I’m sorry for making you mad! I promise it won’t -hic-  happen again, please I’m so sorry.” He’s glowing from it, from how pathetic you sound, how helpless and blissed out you are. Limp against his frame after being edged so much. So beautiful. And all his, he decides.

“Such a good girl for me. You can cum now, baby. Cum for me.” His fingers return to your sopping pussy, immediately battering your g-spot while his thumb rubs at your clit. You’ve never cum so fast or so hard in your life. Your eyes roll to the back of your head and you see white, ears ringing as your whole body tenses and shakes, bowing off him as you nearly shout a broken moan. He helps you ride it out, continues stroking at your walls and clit until your body falls back down and shakes from overstimulation. Only then does he stop, wiping his cum soaked fingers across your thigh before tilting your head to lock his lips with your own. Though, you’re a little too out of it to reciprocate the sloppy makeout.

“C’mon baby, come back to me.” He’s tapping your cheek lightly, releasing the cloth around your wrists and massaging the tender skin. It takes a few minutes for your eyes to refocus, your breathing to stop stuttering and your limbs to stop trembling. When you do come back to reality, you cling to Hitoshi like a magnet.

“There you are. Shh, you’re alright baby.” You cry into his chest, almost wailing after the sudden release of endorphins. You’ve never felt so low, especially after such a heavenly high. He holds you, rubs your back and pets your hair, presses little kisses everywhere he can reach until you’ve fallen asleep from exhaustion. 

He decides that maybe a break was needed, and that an apology from him was in order. But that can wait until you’re both rested, and you’ve been taken care of. For now, he allows himself to drift to sleep beneath you.

#shinsou hitoshi #hitoshi shinsou #shinsou hitoshi bnha #shinsou hitoshi x reader #hitoshi shinsou bnha #hitoshi shinsou mha #hitoshi shinsou x reader #tw noncon #tw dubcon #twnoncon #twdubcon #tw: noncon #tw: dubcon #not me tagging every 'tw' #just covering my bases honestly

[sombreboy]

Daffodil nightmares✾kth [E]

PART TWO [FINAL] | READ PART ONE HERE. | READ ON AO3  ✾ 18+ Explicit content  ✾ xtremity; 9 ✾ pairing: Murder suspect!Yandere!Taehyung x Therapist!Female ✾ word count: 18k ✾ warnings: Mental illness, mentions of murder, heavy dubcon bordering noncon, sadistic/manipulative/possessive!Tae, masochistic!therapist, mentions of medication/drugs, profanity, degrading dirtytalk, rough/painful sex, marking/biting, choking, forced orgasm, unprotected sex, crying, so much cum her womb swells at some point, angst, violence towards art :( 

This fiction contains deranged desires and morals, please check all the warnings before you read.

A/N: The sequel has finally arrived. It’s been a thrill to write this with 🍁anon, who is such a lovely and amazing writer. I’m honored to have created this with them, and I’m excited to finally share this with everyone who’s been anticipating part two. Also a big thank you to @chimoona​​ for making the banner, cheering me on and helping me finish this up when I felt like my brain was going to wither away. Please let me know if you love it and how it made you feel. xoxo

A week had passed by since the hearing, and it went rather smoothly. His lawyer, Jimin, easily got him into the facility after winning his case, and Taehyung was content with the fact that he’d get to see his daffodil more frequently.

Two more days passed after he arrived, and he was eager to finally see her again. But when he was greeted with a different face his heart had dropped to his gut.

The Chief Doctor, Kim Namjoon, had taken him in for the past week, and slowly, Taehyung had gone backwards into the silent, isolated man he once was.

He refused to communicate with Namjoon, only making the process more difficult. It even took a good five days before they had to force him to take the first dose of his prescribed medications.

Another week passed by, and Taehyung was feeling betrayed by her. His heart was torn into pieces, and his eyes were lifeless. At this point, he wasn’t sure if it was because of the drugs, or because of her. Maybe both.

His usual routine of therapy was coming around, and he was guided into the now familiar room in the facility. He hated it, being reminded every single day that she wasn't going to be there, and instead expecting Namjoon to walk in through the door any second. 

While seated on the couch, hands clasped together and eyes dead staring into his lap, he didn’t even bother to lift his gaze when the door opened, not noticing that this time, it wasn’t Namjoon who stepped inside…

After her last visit to Taehyung, she spent the rest of the days anticipating the outcome of his hearing. Jimin had called her first, proud about how he had yet another successful case on his list. She'd heard nothing beyond how Taehyung would soon be moved to their facility to get his treatment for the next two years according to his verdict. She was quick to share the news with Namjoon who merely nodded thoughtfully as he perused the copy of Taehyung's report and then at her, with an unreadable look on his face. 

The next day, she had been informed Taehyung was transferred to Namjoon's care. And as much as she had wanted to confront him about making that decision without her input, she'd let it pass knowing very well how difficult Taehyung would be to Namjoon. And as expected, she was soon summoned by their Chief to retake the case on strict orders that she wouldn't personally get involved.

Namjoon had this knowing look in his eyes when he warned her and she begrudgingly agreed knowing what it meant. He'd supervise some of her sessions with Taehyung to make sure she followed the rules. Maybe that's exactly what she needed to know her place as his doctor and nothing more.

Stepping into the bright therapy room that was so different from where she'd met him, her eyes curiously rove over his slouched form against the couch. The carpet muffles the click of her heels as she makes her way towards him with a tentative grin.

"Heard you were giving Namjoon a hard time..." She pipes up, trying to keep the joy she felt at seeing him again out of her voice. "He's a lot better at this than me, you know, Taehyung?"

Taehyung looked up in her direction, eyes widening for a second before they squinted at her, as if he’s not quite sure whether she was actually there, or if it was just a figment of his imagination.

“You..?” The first words to ever leave his lips since he came to the facility, Namjoon's eyebrows raising as he’s been struggling the entire week to even get a nod or a crooked eyebrow from the man.

Her eyes are quick to note Namjoon's expression before she focuses her attention back on Taehyung, giving him an encouraging nod. "Yeah... It's me! It's really me." She says twice, her fingers curling around the notebook she holds to prevent herself from reaching out to him in reassurance. And she hopes Taehyung doesn't do anything that might further Namjoon's suspicion.

Taehyung seemed to finally be aware of his surroundings, seeing Namjoon's stature in his peripheral vision as he kept his eyes fixed on her. His gaze softened, but there was a stern expression on his face, lips pressed together in a tight line. He crossed his arms over his chest, the familiar action of his when he felt uncomfortable, thus less willing to communicate.

The flash of recognition is all she gets before Taehyung closes off again, making her seethe in silence at Namjoon's callousness. All the progress she made with him over their sessions at the prison, he'd managed to crumble it in one go and was expecting her to begin from scratch again.

She doesn't hide her annoyance when she throws a look at Namjoon over her shoulder as she moves to take the chair next to Taehyung, leaving the Chief doctor standing awkwardly by the door. She'd go about this the most general way until Namjoon left himself.

"Hey... how are you finding yourself at the facility? Do you like it so far?"

Taehyung's eyes avoided hers, however, they followed her feet until she was seated next to him. Feeling her closer, his tension seemed to fade, but only barely. His gaze returned to his own lap, arms still tightly holding himself before giving a subtle shrug, only noticeable if to eyes that were sharp enough to pay attention. And he knew she’d be the one to notice it.

She was so attuned to every single flicker of emotion in him by now, be it in his face or body, she's quick to catch the insignificant shrug of his shoulders which makes her sigh. So he'd decided to be a lot more stubborn than usual and she can't help but feel it was partly her fault even if it was mostly due to Namjoon's presence. She had abandoned him to someone else's care after all without even a fight, when she'd promised to care for him herself.

"Taehyung, if we are to work on your therapy, I'm going to need more than just a shrug." She tells him pointedly, her eyes glancing at Namjoon once. "Is there anything that's making you uncomfortable here?"

Taehyung breathes out a sigh through his nose, lifting his gaze to look at Namjoon's feet. He pressed his lips together tighter, a small nod serving as his next reply.

He really didn’t like Namjoon. The man was intelligent, calm and probably a great doctor. But he wasn’t her. And he didn’t make him feel like a person, merely a patient that he had no contact with. Just another name on his list of people throughout his day. 

But as previously mentioned, he still wasn’t her.

Languidly, she inclines her head towards Namjoon, her eyes urging him to get lost before his presence irked her patient any more. Namjoon merely gives her a blank look in return, jerking his head towards the door and letting her know he wanted to have a word before he left.

"I'll be back in a moment, Taehyung." She excuses herself, standing up to follow Namjoon out the door without another word. As soon as the door closes, Namjoon steps into her space with a concerned look in his eyes.

"Do you really think he'd open up more without me around?" There was a sense of apprehension in his tone, making her exhale loudly.

"I know he will. He's a lot more chatty when I ask the right questions. You don't have to worry!" Her words come out clipped, still feeling miffed from when he took Taehyung away.

"It's not him I'm worried about..." A hand comes to rest on her cheek making her look up, her eyes finally softening at his obvious concern. She was aware of the fact that he took over Taehyung's case only to show her he cared, in his own way.

"We've been over this already, Joon. Some of my patients need that extra care even if you don't approve of my methods. I promise I'm not getting emotionally involved or anything." She lies through her teeth, her gaze fixed upon his.

With a soft trace of his thumb across her cheek, Namjoon drops his hand.

"Fine! I won't question you again as long as you keep your promise." He relents with a pout. "Do you maybe want to meet up over dinner?" He asks after, his voice suddenly unsure, making her want to coo at his sudden bout of shyness. 

"Of course!" She replies with a smile, not having the heart to turn him down again. Once he leaves, she steps back inside the room, a lot more relaxed this time as she approaches Taehyung.

"So, where were we?" She doesn't hide the happiness this time around from her voice as she takes the chair next to him.

Taehyung's head jerks up to look at her again, this time slightly more comfortable without the other male observing them. His eyes were however laced with something darker, raking her up and down before pursing his lips, “What are you happy about?” 

How could she be smiling? She left him. Betrayed him. And now she came back as if everything was just—-fine?

She is so pleased at having his eyes upon hers again without his earlier sense of detachment, that she fails to see the anger lurking in its depth. She almost voices out how she was happy about going for dinner with Namjoon until she realizes she was in front of Taehyung.

Clearing her throat, she words her reply carefully.

"I'm glad that the Chief let me be your personal therapist again. Aren't you happy to see me, Tae?"

“You abandoned me.” Taehyung stared her down, no sign of anything but darkness in his eyes. He leaned back into his seat, his arms hugging himself tighter, as if to keep himself in control. Grounded. “You said two days.”

He didn’t even care if it wasn’t her fault. She promised, and he trusted her. 

Did Namjoon keep her from him? Was he the problem?

Her smile drops instantly from her lips as she watches him dissociate himself furthermore, making her grapple for a plausible explanation to appease him. And that's when she makes her first mistake.

"Taehyung, I didn't mean to make you feel abandoned. I swear..." She moves closer, placing her hand near him as she tries to look past the darkness hiding the real emotions in his eyes.

"It was a decision made by the higher ups. I couldn't exactly say no to the Chief without losing my job. Not when I know he's better than me. We only want you to have the best here. Even Joon... I'm so sorry!"

His arms were trembling as he was struggling to keep himself from her, internally wishing she’d move away before he gave in to his desire to touch her. He breathed heavily through his nose once more, eyes trained on her face to try to dissect her expression, even if his own was the one blank.

"They... took you from me. And put me with a male doctor that just wants me to be heavily med-..medicated.. " he slurred his last word, proving his point exactly. Even if the first few weeks were a very low dosage compared to what the full one by next month would be, it did affect him a little. He had less anxiety, less energy-- but his desires for her were not as affected.

Without a second thought, she moves next to him on the couch taking his shivering hands in hers, thinking it was due to the drugs and looks past his choice of words of how he thought they took her from him. That was her second mistake.

"Taehyung, no..." Her voice is soft, gently coaxing him to give her any reaction other than careful blankness. "They thought Namjoon would be able to help you better than me. He is my senior for a reason." She squeezes his hands as if trying to get her point across. "I'm really sorry if you felt betrayed, but from now on I'll be your only attending therapist. I promise..."

By now, comforting Taehyung had become an innate need within her that she no longer cared about what way he perceived it as long as he didn't reject her help.

Taehyung lifted his eyes to meet hers, his hands trembling in her grasp. When he felt her reassuring squeeze, the voice in his head started to whisper things, the earnestness in her eyes drawing him in. And as if she was his source of gravity, he didn't hesitate to pull her in by her hands, his lips crashing against hers in a kiss. He needed to feel her again, he's missed it, craved it for the entire time spent apart. He was mad, furious that he didn't get to see her for too long.

The barely there flash of emotion in Taehyung's eyes is her only warning before she goes crashing into his chest and his lips capture hers in a punishing kiss. Wasn't he supposed to be weakened by medication? She pushes against him and even twists her body trying to wrench herself free knowing the unrepressed anger she felt through his kiss won't bode well for her. But his hold on her is too strong to fight off and after a moment of struggle, she stops, hoping her passiveness was enough to make him let her go and remains unresponsive to his kiss.

Taehyung indulges in her lips, humming in content as he keeps her tightly in place against his body. The warmth he's missed for what felt like an eternity was satisfying, yet riling his darker side up. Her unresponsiveness didn't matter, he was simply happy to taste her once more, feeding into the addiction that is her. But eventually, he withdrew, his hold on her hands still intact, gaze intense as he looks at her, ''I missed you.''

She breathes in relief when he eventually backs off, trying one last time to pull her hands free unsuccessfully. Letting her eyes slowly trail up from their hands, to his chest, before coming to rest on his face, she resists a shudder at his burning stare. The darkness in them has returned, not yet shrouding his gaze entirely, but nearly there. Shaking her head, she turns away to look anywhere but directly at him.

"Taehyung... You— we can't do this. Not anymore! I told you the last two times were a mistake. You need to stop! This is going to be a problem if Namjoon or anyone finds out."

Taehyung sighs, leaning in closer, breath fanning the skin on her cheek as she looks away, ''You want me to stop?..''

A hint of mischief sparked in his eyes. Fine, if that's what she wanted, maybe he'd simply comply. Because that would be the least probable thing she'd expect of him. Merely, a trick of the mind, testing his therapist-- being on the receiving end of the nonchalance regarding their.. complicated relationship.

Taehyung loosened his grip until her hands were free, leaning back into his own seat, crossing one leg over the other as he lets his hands settle on his thighs, ''Then, let's begin the session, daffodil.''

She jerks back from him in surprise when he gives in to her rather easily. At the very least, she expected him to make a fuss about it. But this— the glint in his eyes is new, making her wonder what she missed out on over the course of time he was under Namjoon's care. Time to find out...

She moves into her chair, a lot more comfortable than the ones at the prison, and leans back keeping steady eyes on him. Choosing to ignore the new nickname he had for her, she clears her throat as she picks up her discarded notebook.

"So, Taehyung..." Her gaze flickers over his relaxed form warily. "How has your stay been here so far?"

Taehyung tilts his head forward, his overgrown fringe dangling over his tired eyes. A soft hum vibrated in his throat, shoulders shrugging vaguely at the question. It was rather dumb, she must know it was absolute hell for him without her.

“So and so.” He says quietly.

Resisting the urge to click her tongue at the return of his vagueness, she moves a little forward in her seat, trying to keep her frustrations in check. 

"I need precise answers, Tae. It was different back at the prison, I merely had to diagnose your condition for the case. If you want to be cured and leave the facility, you need to be much clearer than that." Her tone comes out clipped at his dispassionate response, something in her goading her on to provoke the fire back in the deep embers of his eyes cause he no longer resembles either of the versions she knew.

Mentally shaking herself away from that thought, "Let's try this again... How do you feel about your verdict? Do you think it's reasonable enough?"

Taehyung rolled his tongue on the inside of his cheek, prodding the flesh as he's thinking over his answer, ''My verdict.... Could you remind me?''

A smug grin pulls on his lips, playing this little game of his reminded him of how fun it was to frustrate her, the struggle he puts her through is a part of the reason he likes her. She's feisty if provoked, and.. Just hearing her voice was already making him feel better.

She begins tapping the end of her pen against the notebook as she regards him and his arrogance with a frosty glare.

"You want a reminder of how they pronounced you not guilty despite the extent of your crimes, all because they believed you were capable of improving with the right treatment? Do you think this is all a joke, Taehyung?" She sits up straight, snapping her notebook shut as she's reminded of Namjoon's concern earlier when he came to her about how Taehyung wasn't responding well like expected to the treatment. 

"If you keep up with this attitude, I won't feel guilty about leaving you back under Namjoon's or someone else's care." Her patience can only run so far, especially when he was purposefully being a prick about it.

Taehyung nods with a hum, yet his mischievous expression remains. He enjoyed the emotions he seemed to be able to pull out of her, whether they were positive or negative.

''I just wanted to hear it from you. I'm sorry.'' And there it was, the low, soft voice he knew she couldn't be mad at, manipulating her emotions little by little. ''They said some of my medication will take months before it does anything, but some I can already tell are taking effect.''

He was aware that she probably already knew, but it was at least something he could talk about. 

He's given testosterone suppressants to reduce the intensity and frequency of his sexual desires. However, it would take months before it would actually make a real difference. 

Another medication that would take its effect quicker within a few weeks, was the antipsychotics. Supposedly, they'd help calm his.. delusions.

He really didn't like the feeling. Almost numbing, so he naturally fought it. He just wanted to be himself, not who he’d become when he’s fed with drugs. The voice in his head became sleepier, but it wasn't gone.

So, frustrating his therapist kept that part of him alive, he wanted her to keep him alive.

''My verdict... I find it reasonable. But... I feel.. Uncomfortable?'' He pursed his lips in thought, his eyes squinted as he focused his gaze on the table, ''Like the medications create a layer around my feelings, numbing them.''

Her heart thaws mildly at the sound of his apology but refuses to show it on her face, knowing by now how he chose to play her weakness for him against herself. Closing her eyes firmly, she wills her annoyance away before facing him again with a clearer head.

"Considering your situation," she begins in a much calmer voice, "—and the reason why you were brought in, I'd say your verdict was pretty... lenient. It's more than just reasonable!" She points out, for the first time giving her own opinion on where he was involved. "But it's welcome nonetheless, for it could've been worse. We all only want you to get better, I guess..." 

Clicking her pen open, she starts scribbling down her notes, taking her eyes away from him for a brief moment. As much as she didn't want to assume he was telling her about the drugs to make her feel sorry and do something regarding it, she wouldn't put it past Taehyung.

"As for the medication, you're required to take them in specified doses to help you, Tae. Your feelings aren't your own right now. They're a conflict between yours and this... other side that forces you to do things against your will." She gestures around with her hands, trying to explain how the medications were actually a good thing for him. "The drugs aid in suppressing those abnormal instincts. This haze you feel is only a temporary consequence. Once you learn how to overcome those urges, we can always reduce the dosage and slowly take you off the medication completely." She flashes him a smile as if in reassurance, completely slipping back into her therapist mode.

"Other than that, how has your move here been so far? Namjoon was pretty upset about how you wouldn't let him treat you, you know?" She softly laughs at that, fondly remembering Joon's pouty face from that morning when he accepted defeat and approached her about Taehyung.

Taehyung hums as he nods, letting her know that he's listening to her every word.

"It is much more comfortable than prison," a soft sigh rolled off his lips, a content smile at the thought of how he gave Namjoon a hard time, "I don't trust him."

He only trusted her. His therapist. His.

Namjoon was indeed a great doctor, but Taehyung easily shut down. And so far, he's learned that the only person he wanted to ‘treat’ him-- was her. Well, he didn't really want to be treated.... he just wanted her. That's all it came down to.

Her eyes darted back to him at the obvious dislike in his tone, her smile slowly slipping off her lips. There was also this faint presence of smugness in the way he smirked, as if he was pleased with his actions that gave her a pause to reconsider her next track of questions.

"Namjoon is..." She begins haltingly, knowing she can't say something that'd likely set him off with her little crush on the said Chief doctor. "—he is one of the best doctors we have at the facility. And a lot more qualified than me to treat you, if I'm being honest. Is there a particular reason why you don't trust him?" She draws one of her legs over the other, crossing them at her thighs to lean back comfortably into the quilted chair.

Taehyung's lips formed into a small pout at the way she praised Namjoon, but didn't put a lot of weight on the thought. However, the question did give him something to think about for a moment, his eyes unable to focus on one spot as they flickered around the room.

''He is indeed a good doctor... But he's incredibly boring.'' His eyes finally found hers, a crooked eyebrow showing his vague attitude, ''You're much more fun.''

She patiently looks on, noting how his eyes flit around trying to find the answer to her question and finally finds her own as if she were his polestar, making her breath hitch slightly, and not in a good way. Especially when it came along with that comment from him.

"Fun?" She raises a single brow up at that, leaning on the armrest of her chair. "So you made his life difficult, just because you think I'm much more fun?"

Successfully resisting the scoff she was about to utter at the ridiculousness of that statement, she stands up from the chair.

"Taehyung, I feel like you and I have very different ideas about why you're here in the facility. We're here to treat you and not for your entertainment." Leaving her notebook on the desk, she steps closer to him pulling the sleeves of her stark white scrub up.

"Let's try this again..." She moves the table with a few instruments closer to him. "I'm going to take your vitals. But before, did you take your post-breakfast medication today?" She asks him with a skeptical look.

''I did,'' Taehyung nods, his gaze observing the tools laying on the small table. His least favourite part of being here is the medical stuff. From swallowing pills, to having his body checked. Call him childish, but it is just the way he's wired. It's like the dentist, he despises it just as much.

But, since it was her, his own doctor doing it, he felt more at ease, not putting any resistance in his behavior. The sooner it's over, the sooner they can get back to doing what he enjoys most; having a conversation with his therapist.

Well, there were other things he much preferred doing with her, but one can't have it all at once, can they? It's been too long, though..

She finds it hard to trust his words now, the puzzle pieces to his case coming together a little more clearly than before. Taking his temperature first, she hesitates a brief second before she takes his right hand in hers and pushes the sleeves up.

"I just need to get your blood pressure," she tells him in a dull tone, her eyes straying everywhere but his gaze as she methodically looks for his pulse with her fingers tracing over his warm skin. Once she finds it, she pumps the air quickly into the cuff and presses her stethoscope to his pulse to get his heart rate as the air slowly deflates. But the pointer in the dial gives her a pause when it displays a higher rate than normal, making her wrench the steth out of her ears and seek his pulse again on his wrist this time.

"Are you sure you took your medicines?" She asks again, her voice sounding more concerned now. The drugs should've technically induced drowsiness in him, slowing down his heart rate. "Your heart rate is nowhere near normal, Tae... have you been sleeping properly?"

Was he skipping his meds? Was he having adverse reactions to them instead? A million thoughts flash through her mind and she fails to see his reaction throughout it all.

Taehyung had been indulged in the feeling of her fingers tracing his skin that he barely heard her questions, his eyes snapping in her direction, widening at her disbelief in him.

''I swear I took them.'' He did, he wasn't lying... But it didn't stop the fact that her touch affected him so easily, the blood flow in his body was rushing with the way his heart started to race. He took a slow, deep breath to calm himself down, squeezing his nose bridge in frustration at the small voice still wanting to have its say, whether it was slightly numb or not. As his chest pounded heavier, the voice grew louder.

 She lets out a low frustrated groan under her breath. It just wasn't her day. The entire week, actually. Not ever since Namjoon tossed her schedule and plans out of the window in a need to prove himself. The fondness she'd been feeling earlier dissipated in a mere second and snapped her focus back on Taehyung, noting his tense muscles and closed eyes.

Not that she trusted him completely when he said he took his meds, but his voice sounded sincere. And from experience, she knew she was the last person Taehyung would lie to. A quick tap at her tab lets her pull up his records from that morning and she sees he was indeed given the required doses of his prescribed drugs. 

Dropping it back on the table, she sits down next to him seeing how her own agitation was causing him distress.

"Taehyung... look at me, I'm sorry!" She calms her voice down to a soft murmur, taking his wrist between hers once again. "Just keep your eyes on me okay? And follow my breathing pattern. In—" she inhales deeply, holding it in for a few seconds and then very slowly breathes it out. "Out!" Her fingers go from checking his pulse to gently stroking her thumb along it in a soothing motion, hoping whatever it was that's troubling him would pass on.

He follows her instructions, taking a deep breath. In--- Fuck, her scent is lovely--- and out, he slowly exhales with her, eyes fixated on her delicate fingers around his wrist. It was kind of working, he calmed down. The voice retreated, but he felt it lingering, as if it was waiting to surprise... even him.

When she feels his pulse beat back down slowly to a regular rhythm, she sags a bit against the reclined couch he was sitting upon in relief. She might have to look into his medications again with Namjoon and see if they can switch anything around to not have this happen again.

''Doctor,'' His voice was low, concentrated on her hand. He didn't want her to stop, so without thinking, he slowly lets his fingers intertwine with hers, ''Let me hold your hand.''

Taehyung couldn't resist.

She hums when he calls out for her, one hand still staying to stroke his wrist while she picks up the discarded tab to record his blood pressure and pulse rate, albeit she almost drops the tab again at his question and the way his fingers snake in between hers.

Her gaze flickers down to their hands, not immediately rejecting his advances even if she knew she should. "Tae," She begins a softly placating voice, "I don't think it's a good idea. What if Joon... or someone comes in? They might get the wrong idea."

Taehyung pursed his lips at her words, but he didn't withdraw his hold around her hand.

''What idea? We're not doing anything bad...'' It was purely innocent, right? He was just holding her hand... He's done it before.

Well, last time might've ended up differently-- but he's good now. He's medicated. He's fine.

He lifted his gaze to find hers, a smile adorning his lips followed with the small spark of mischief swirling in his eyes, ''We're just holding hands.''

"A doctor doesn't just hold a patient's hand randomly for the entire session..." She sighs, knowing it would only prove to be useless to argue against his words. At the little flash of mischief glinting in the corner of his eyes, she was a goner even before she could acknowledge how very much he looked like a curious child right then.

"Fine! But just hand holding and nothing more, okay?" She says to make sure he doesn't get any other idea into his head just because she gave in to him one more time.

Letting him keep a hold on her hand firmly, she reaches over with some difficulty to grab her note off her chair and pulls it to her lap just when her tab buzzes with a message from a colleague, which she ignores in her efforts to do everything single handedly.

"Alright, apart from boring sessions with Namjoon and draining medication, did you find any other change in yourself?"

She’s not just a doctor, he mused. And surely, they've done much worse.

''Look at it as a way to calm me down..'' He smirks subtly, but his lips fall back into a neutral state at her following questions. Any other changes? Not really... But also, yes.

Taehyung raises his eyebrows, gaze falling back to roaming the room as he's considering his next words, ''Nightmares.'' The way he says it was more like a sigh, eyes once again flickering between objects in the room as his mind seems to scatter, ''I sleep more, but I have nightmares.''

Feeling his focus slip away once again, she promptly squeezes his hand to bring him back to her at the mention of his nightmares. A frown curls around her lips, gaze tracing over his features in obvious concern that may or may not go beyond that of just a therapist.

"What kind of nightmares? Do you remember them when you wake up or is it just an intuition?"

Taehyung slouches down in his seat, trying to feel the material pressing against his back as an addition to the pressure she provided on his hand to keep him grounded. His gaze quivers as it finds his doctor once more, ''Both? Most of is just... words.''

Words, as in, the voice. As the medication had toned down the monster within his awoken state, it had gotten incredibly loud during sleep. And it was scary, because he looked just like Taehyung himself. It is a part of Taehyung. Or is it Taehyung? He started having trouble separating the two.

''I don't like it, I think it's the meds. I never had nightmares before, doctor.''

 "Words?" Her brows furrowed together in mild confusion when he mentions it. "Do you mean you hear them?" Her free hand flies down to write it all down while her brain tries to think of a way to help him through what she definitely deemed as progress unlike what he thought. 

"Taehyung, I want you to carefully think about these dreams and tell me why they make you feel this way." Feeling his hand tremble slightly in her hold, she moves closer, shushing him like she would a spooked child, almost letting him lean into her side for comfort. 

"I know it might seem scary..." Her voice turns into that of gentle coaxing. "And I know you blame the meds for it. But I think your alter ego is trying to threaten your subconscious cause it can no longer control your conscious thoughts. I cannot be sure until I know what you hear and see in your dreams, though."

''I don't remember everything, doctor..'' Taehyung furrows his eyebrows in thought, squeezing his eyes shut to try to recall his dreams, ''It's really blurry.. But..'', He pauses to look at her, ''This voice, it's... just my own-- but it doesn't feel like my own.. it tells me to ..stop?'' He nods, confirming his own words, ''I need to stop taking the meds. We-...I don't like them.''

Her spine straightens up alertly as she catches him uttering 'we' before he corrects himself, almost proving her perception right. As much as she wanted to counter his thoughts and explain what he's feeling was actually good, she purses her lips instead to keep their sessions as professional as possible.

"We can work on substituting or reducing your dosage, but I can't take you off medications unless I'm actively going against your court order. But you have to understand this voice is only trying to stop you from taking them because it feels threatened..." Exhaling a long drawn out breath, her shoulders slouch as she bends her head to look him in the eye properly. He looked tired but a lot healthier than he was in the prison. His warm brown eyes looked lighter despite the lifelessness about them, with no sign of the darkness consuming his thoughts anymore.

"Do you not see it for yourself, Tae? You're sleeping better than before. There has been no sign of the other side when you're awake. The drugs are helping you keep it under control." She bites her lip in thought before asking the next question, her tone almost hesitant. "Tell me, have you had those... urges recently?" It was a dangerous thing to ask, but she wanted to prove it to him that she was right.

Taehyung's eyes refuse to meet hers at the question, dipping his head lower to let his gaze stay fixed on his lap. He did feel something when his therapist touched his skin. He did feel the monster inside of him react, the urge for it to take over was there. It wasn’t as strong as before.

''I don't know. I don't think so..?''

He was lying without knowing. If the voice inside of him had a face, a wolfish sneer would adorn its lips.

Her entire posture instantly relaxes as a smile breaks out on her lips at his reply. His tone sounded sincere enough, albeit a little lost, for her to suspect anything.

"See, that's it! You are capable of resisting those temptations. This is good progress when we haven't even started your behavioural therapy yet." Her fingers quickly jot down every detail of their conversation so far, the smile never leaving her lips. Other than the kiss he forced upon her from misguided feelings, she believes he didn't feel anything even remotely sexual towards her.

"Despite me holding your hand right now, you're sure you don't feel it anymore do you?" She asks him again carefully, knowing it can't go down in the records, but she needed to make sure.

Taehyung looks down at their joined hands, giving it a small squeeze to check for himself.

Huh.

''I guess not.'' He loosens his grip, letting his fingers smooth against hers before pulling away, something he knows he wouldn't normally want to do.

Huh.

That was almost too easy. Something about that makes him feel... weird. He missed the way his body would feel electrified by her touch.

"Excellent!" She mumbles watching his hands slide out of her grip and away, the entire motion leaving her feeling something akin to bereft, as if he didn't need her anymore. But she chooses not to indulge in her emotions, shifting her focus upon him once more.

"In my opinion, we should continue with your medication as it is now. Maybe reduce it once your nightmares decrease..." She picks up her tab, not moving away from despite not being held back anymore. "I'll have to talk to Namjoon about it, but—" 

She misses her track of words when her eyes find Namjoon's message, politely asking to meet her for lunch instead of dinner because he couldn't wait. Snorting softly, she looks at the time. It was almost lunch hour. Maybe she should just show up and surprise him in his office instead of replying to his message. She puts the tab away with a smile, tilting her head to face Taehyung again.

"It's time for your lunch and medication again, Tae. Is there anything else you want to discuss before tomorrow's session?"

Taehyung glances at the tab as he notices how she smiles at it, it couldn't possibly be because of something she wrote down. He didn't like it, because he wasn't able to find out what it was for. 

At her question, he straightens his posture a bit, shaking his head, ''No.... Nothing.''

Easing off the couch with a few pats on his knee, she stands up to move the table away and sets everything back to normal on the desk. Facing away from him, she pulls off her scrubs and fluffs her hair a bit to make herself presentable.

"Come on, then! I'll bring you back to your room before I go for my lunch..." She tells him, glancing over her shoulder. It was unusual for doctors themselves to lead their patient back to their rooms, but she found herself not caring given her good mood. Moving towards the door, she almost forgets her tab laying beside Taehyung. "Oh! Can you bring that along as well, Tae? I need to discuss your medication with Namjoon while we're at it."

Taehyung's attention turns towards the tablet on the table as he stands up, bending over to take it into his hands. He was a bit surprised that she offered to walk him to his room, but he really had no reason or will to protest. He enjoyed all the time he'd get with her.

Call him curious, but as he picks the tablet up, he inspects it, as if he's never seen such a device before. Of course he had, but he wasn't entirely familiar with tech devices these days. He keeps it in his hand as he catches up with his doctor, a small smile on his face. This was the first time they'd be walking anywhere together, or be anywhere but in a therapy room for that matter.

She watches on as he seems to look over her tab interestedly, making her smile at the way his innocence shines through in such small gestures. If only everyone can see what she saw in him, they wouldn't take him for the monster he definitely wasn't. Sighing deeply, she opens the door and waits for him, signaling to the nurses in waiting that she got this and sends them away. When he finally joins her, she takes her tab from him and stacks it on top of the files and notebook in her hand with a grateful smile. Letting the door close behind them, she begins leading him towards his room a couple of floors above.

"I saw you looking at the tab strangely. Have you never used one before?" That brings another thought to her mind, and she turns to face him as they wait for the elevator. "What do you do in your free time here, Taehyung?"

Taehyung shakes his head, ''No, I am not really much of a tech guy.'' He chuckles lightly at the fact, feeling like he's probably the only one his age who doesn't own a smartdevice of his own.

As they're slowly walking together, Taehyung thinks for a moment about the next question, his eyes continuously peering over at her. The way her hair delicately flows from the momentum, the way her hips had a subtle sway to them... If he could fall in love-- or what he thought was love, all over again with his therapist, he definitely did in this moment.

''Remember our first session?'' He runs his fingers through his hair, his boxy smile prominent, ''Most of the time I like to paint.''

She perks a delicate brow at that. Almost all the men his age proved to be avid techies, a couple of them even going as far as trying to correct her usage of the said devices as if she failed to understand.

"Hm, if you ever want one of these to just browse through and learn new things, just let me know. It can be arranged." She tells him with a smile, just as the elevator arrived. 

Stepping in, she looks mildly surprised when he admits to painting. She might have mentioned it to Namjoon in passing and now, she was glad that she did.

"That's great! I was considering it as part of your therapy. It's good that you're already painting." Pressing the number to his floor, she turns to peer up at him and actually noting how taller he was than her, even with her heels on. "I'm just curious. What subjects do you usually paint?"

Taehyung steps in with her, keeping a small space between them as he keeps his arms crossed over his chest, head tilted to gaze down at her. She was quite cute like this, even cuter when he took notice of how small she was next to him. Well, a piece of him thought it was purely cute, another... saw it as a physical advantage. He shook the thought off in the form of another shrug, focusing on the question at hand once more.

''Flowers,'' he grimaced as if it wasn't already obvious, ''And sometimes I paint what I remember from my dreams... And, uh... people I've met in here.''

He said the latter in a lower voice, not sure if he should've included that part. He had a lot of free time to spend here, and painting surely was something he enjoyed. Everything from his flowers, to the way he interprets the darkness from his nightmares, and lastly-- the people he's met. He recalls he painted his doctor, and he knows for a fact that it's his favourite painting. He could look at it all day, his own version of a photograph since he didn't own any. He remembers painting it the first night he came here.

Her form subtly tenses when he mentions flowers, having heard him call her his favourite flower before. But considering how things were progressing, she decided to push it to the back of her head. It shouldn't matter, not when he clearly didn't feel the same pull he had towards her before.

Clearing her throat slightly, "Let me guess— irises? Or daffodils?" She asks with a light-hearted smile just when the elevator stops, prompting them to step out of it and continue on their way. 

"You paint your dreams too? Interesting." In fact, she had been thinking of advising him to write down or paint whatever he sees in his so-called nightmares. If she could interpret them, they'd be one step closer to finding what was troubling him for real. Maybe an old memory? Or a traumatic experience from the past?

"Taehyung..." She starts softly, as they keep walking at a slower pace towards his room. "Will it be too much if I ask to see your paintings? The ones with your dream sketches, I mean... It's purely for trying to understand your mind and see if I could help in any way." She raises a hand as if to prove to him there was no ill intention in her request.

Taehyung hums, his mind instantly falling back to the painting he made of her. He's pretty sure he had it hidden behind other works, so there was no chance of her seeing it. She probably wouldn't like seeing it... or maybe she would be flattered? But she wanted to see the nightmares.

''Actually, no...I painted a red dahlia.'' He continues before she's able to ask about the flower, ''You can... see my paintings if you'd like.''

"Right now?" She asks, coming to a stop in front of his room. She flashes her card to open the door for him while she hesitates on the threshold. She did request to see his paintings. But there was also the spontaneous lunch date she needed to get to. Chewing on her lip, her gaze flicks to her watch. Ten minutes, she could spare ten more minutes before meeting Namjoon. Hopefully he'd still be waiting.

"Thanks, Tae. I'd love to!" She tells him sincerely, stepping in behind him and tries not to flinch when the door clicks shut behind them. Venturing in carefully, she takes in the minimal decor of the large room— with the bed on one side with stark white sheets and the easel on the other, right in front of the huge window in the room.

"Red dahlia?" She goes to stand in front of the said painting, still mounted on the easel. It was beautiful in a rather lonely way, just a single large dahlia in the deepest of reds, almost like blood covered the expanse of the canvas. Reaching out in awe, she lightly traces it, the red pigment clinging on to her fingertips. "What does it mean?"

Taehyung stands next to her, observing his own painting with pursed lips. This painting was one that he made after a few days of coming here, when he wasn't sure that she was ever going to come back. He'd felt abandoned by the very doctor that is standing next to him, tracing the painting that he had created with tears in his eyes, and an ache in his heart.

''Red Dahlia'' He repeated with a nod, ''It represents... betrayal,'' he pauses to click his tongue when he finds an inconsistent transition in the colors. He really had to fix that, ''And loneliness.''

A lump lodges itself in her throat at his words, whispered so close to her ear, and she struggles to swallow past it to begin talking again. Her fingers recoil back quickly from the flower that made her feel guilty for reasons unknown, and she pushes a lock of hair behind her ear, accidentally smearing the red over cheek.

Hesitantly, she turns to glance up at him, her eyes wide and uncertain, as if she'd walked into a trap. Drawing in a swift breath, she opens her mouth to get the words past her lips.

"Why... Why the red dahlia? Did someone make you feel abandoned?"

Taehyung smiles sadly, eyes catching the splash of red smeared across her cheek. The red symbolizing his pain, from the flower itself, now perfectly placed on her cheek-- the very culprit of his pain in the first place.

''Oh, flower..'' He breathes out, reaching out to swipe his thumb across her cheek, wiping off most of the colour, the remaining hue still smeared on her cheek, ''I didn't feel abandoned... I was...'' He sighs, using his reddened thumb to fill in the missing spot on the canvas, completing the piece, ''I was promised two days. And when I realized, it wasn't the truth... I didn't know what to do..'' Once more, his eyes flicker back to her, ''Through his pain, came beauty.'' Taehyung quoted his favourite artist once more, the last time he did was during their first session together, ''What do you think, doctor? Isn't it pretty?''

Her skin tingles where he seemed to touch her and she follows his fingers with confused eyes when they come off looking red. "Oh?" Her lips part slightly, her heart clenching at the sadness in his tone.

"Taehyung..." She calls his name softly, as if it'd erase all the pain. "You know I didn't mean to, right?" Now more than ever, she wishes he could read the sincerity in her gaze as she turns to look up at him, not minding how close they were standing to each other. "You could've always asked for me. You know you could have." 

Her attention shifts back to the painting as she considers his question. "It's beautiful... looks almost real." She admits, her fingers rubbing her cheek to get rid of the stain as if it still lingered due to her guilt. "But beauty doesn't always have to be through pain, right?" She moves in between the painting and him, making him look down at her determined eyes. "If the voice inside you says you cannot paint unless you're in pain, you have to prove it wrong. It's the only way to silence him."

Taehyung ignored the fact that she said he could've simply asked for her. He never would've done that, he didn't want to have to. He trusted her. But her sincerity made him feel like... Maybe it truly wasn't all her fault.

He felt good about the praise, but before he was able to react to it-- even though his chest fluttered for a mere second, her next words did nothing but make his lips pull in a lopsided smile.

''Yeah? You think I can do that?'' He dares to crane his neck to look at her through his dark curls dangling over his eyes, ''That I can...silence him?''

He refers to the voice as a 'him', rather than an 'it'-- to him, it was a part of him. How could he ever find beauty without sadness? Well, maybe his daffodil was that beauty... But she definitely wasn't pain free to him.

Her own lips quirk up in a smile finding his unique grin too contagious.

"Yes..." Her fingers move from her cheek, reaching up to push his messed up curls to the side to see his eyes clearly. "I definitely think you can!"

Dropping her hands back to her chest just as quickly realizing what she'd done, she shuffles awkwardly on her feet feeling like they were standing too close for comfort. "After all, it's your favourite artist who said ‘silence the voice if it says you cannot paint.’" She whispers, finding she cannot move back without bumping into the easel. 

"You're not in pain now, are you?" She presses the question, knowing her presence alone in a way improved his mood even if she refused to acknowledge the reason behind it. "Why don't you try painting now? We'll see if it affects your art as much as you think it does."

Taehyung's breath hitched from her touch, not expecting it, nor did he expect his own reaction. It was so subtle, but he felt a shiver run down his spine-- as if his body abruptly remembered what she felt like. Fuck, he missed her hands...

No, behave.

He took a step backwards to create a larger space between them, his eyes moving towards an empty canvas leaning against the wall on the floor, considering her suggestion.

''I could... Would you... Stay and watch?''

The air leaves her lungs easily when he moves farther away from her. Albeit, it lasts only a minute until his question echoes around the silent room. Stay? Oh, no. She begins shaking her head before she catches herself. Denying him would lead to his disappointment and the cycle would just continue, especially when he already thinks she abandoned him in the first place.

She would have to apologize to Namjoon later, maybe go all out for their dinner date. Nodding at Taehyung with a half hearted smile, she moves towards his bed to take a seat.

"Sure... I can ask the nurses to bring our lunch here while you paint. Will that be okay?"

Taehyung couldn't control the boxy smile appearing on his lips, eyes squinting genuinely along with it, ''Yeah.''

He grabbed the current painting, carefully moving and placing it on the floor, letting it lean against the wall before replacing the empty space on the easel, a fresh canvas ready for him. He takes the dirty palette in his hand, and the tubes of acrylic paint to squeeze out the colours he desired. Without another word, he dove into his own world, a brush in his hand as he started to paint, delicately letting his wrist swipe across the canvas. It was simple, one thing in mind as he painted; his doctor. Green leaves, white bells... It was her favourite flower.

She lets the nurses know where to bring their lunch with a few taps of her fingers before she pulls up Namjoon's earlier message as well, apologizing and promising to make it up to him over dinner. Soon after, there's a knock on the door and two of them leave their wrapped up food on the table and excuse themselves once she thanks them. 

All through this, Taehyung stays intent on his painting, making her smile at the little lopsided grin on his face as he focuses on whatever he was visualizing on the canvas. Standing up from his bed, she steps closer to him but not enough to see what he was painting.

"Am I allowed to take a peek yet, Tae?" 

Completely indulged in his own bubble, he didn't even notice when the lunch had arrived, too focused on working on his art. However, the one thing that did snap him out of his bubble, was the voice of his doctor calling him out by his nickname. He glanced over his shoulder at her, nodding once, then back at his painting as he took a step to the side to show off his latest addition to his collection.

Lily of the valley. Doctor's favourite flower.

With a hand wrapped around herself, she takes a few steps to close the distance between them when he signals her to, only to gasp again in surprise. The flowers looked very real. Her favourites. This time, she's mindful not to touch the wet paint as she silently marvels at his brush strokes.

"Wow..." The sound barely leaves her lips, her eyes stuck on the portrait unblinkingly when she sees the little note in the end. "You did this for me?" She mumbles under her breath, too scared to ponder upon the meaning behind the gesture. Didn't he say he felt nothing for her? 

She turns back to him, with many questions in her gaze but settling on the most simplest one. "Why?" Her gaze rakes over his appearance— his messed up hair, unassuming eyes, the tiny little beauty mark on his nose amidst the streaks of white paint that he must have accidentally gotten on himself while painting. He looked far too innocent for anything he'd done so far. A beautiful conundrum that she was nowhere close to solving, but managed to reel her in with as much as a gentle smile that belied his true intentions. "Why the lily of the valley?"

Taehyung put the brush down along with the palette, pulling his sleeves up once more as they kept coming down.

''Well...'' he softly whispered, turning back to look at her. His tongue poked out to wet his dry lips, before his eyes landed on the flower on the canvas, ''Lily of the valley... it represents the return to happiness..'' He chuckles, shaking his head at how cheesy it sounded, “And you said it's your favourite... Maybe, I am the lily-- trying to return...ah-- nevermind..'' He shrugged. Maybe, in his own mind, he would like to think of every person being able to be represented by a flower. His doctor was his daffodil. So.. maybe, Taehyung believed he could be related to the lily, in the pursuit of his happiness.

She takes a step closer, tugging at his arms to roll his sleeves up wordlessly so he wouldn't get any more paint on himself. She stays silent throughout his rambles, her eyes carefully taking in each flick of emotion on his face along with it.

"You want to be the lily?" Of course she doesn't add the part where she knew he wanted to represent the lily for her. "Are you sure? Didn't you say they were poisonous?"

Taehyung's eyes quivered at the word, as if she'd caught the hidden meaning behind the flower.

But it's not like she didn't know. She was his therapist. And she's experienced it first hand.

''Aren't I, though? This part of me...'' he gestures vaguely towards his temple.

"You want to find your happiness even if it comes along with the poison?" By now, she was no longer sugarcoating her words. Maybe saying it aloud as it was would stop him from whatever he was trying to be for her. Slowly, this new Taehyung was becoming hard for her to turn her back on. The innocence in him invoking the need to protect, and she didn't know if it was just manipulation on his part or something genuine.

"We're trying to cure you of that part, Tae. I don't think you should want to be the lily... there are so many other flowers to choose from, right?"

Taehyung shrugs, the common expression of his when he simply isn't sure what he's supposed to respond with, ''I guess you're right.'' But secretly, he still hoped.

Turning back to the painting, he inspects it once more before a soft sigh escapes his lips,

''Anyway...'' His eyes glance at the lunchboxes, ''I'm hungry. Can we eat?''

 Nodding her head, she moves away from the portrait, her mind running in inconclusive circles at what to make of their time together after the session officially ended. Of course she stopped taking notes, but that didn't mean she wasn't trying to analyse each of his actions. She couldn't pinpoint what was bothering her really, but she didn't expect him to be so... docile. Was it because of the drugs? Or was he really on the road to recovery that quickly?

Moving to the table, she opens the lunch boxes and sets it up as Taehyung follows her. Right before he's about to take the chopsticks though, she slaps gently at his hands.

"You have paint all over your fingers. Shouldn't you wash them off?"

''Ah..'' He withdraws his hand, giving her a small pout, ''I want to eat now...'' A sigh, playful however, allowed to escape his lips before getting up to head towards the small bathroom he was provided with, turning the water on by the sink to wash himself clean.

As he's washing his hands, his eyes glance up towards his reflection in the mirror. For some reason, he felt like he was sucked into a trance-like state, unable to move away from his own eyes.

Why are you restraining yourself?

Why are you allowing them to weaken us, Taehyung?

''Huh..'' Is all he could muster to say, frozen in place as the tap water continued to ripple over his hands, scorching water that slowly turned the skin into a reddish hue.

She tuts at his childish pout, smiling softly when he walks away to the little ensuite to wash himself while she goes about taking out all the little boxes in each of their lunch packs for him to eat once he comes out. When she's done, she sits herself down at the two seater table waiting for him. Seconds turn into minutes and she glances down at her watch, noting he'd been away for more than ten minutes now. 

She's quick to make her way towards the bathroom, hesitating a brief moment before she knocks on the door lightly only to find it opening at the gentlest push. Her dilemma vanishes the instant she finds it unlocked and peeps her head in cautiously to see him standing in front of the sink. "Tae... is everything okay in there?"

By the time she was checking on him, his hands were gripping the edges of the sink tightly, leaning a little closer towards his reflection. He didn't even notice his doctors presence, gaze completely fixed on himself, quietly whispering, "Go away."

It didn't work.

Taehyung grew frustrated, wanting the mischievous smirk on his face to go away. It wasn't him.

I am you, you are me.

"Stop...."

Hearing his whispered words, she immediately thinks it for her and almost closes the door, mumbling apologies for stumbling upon him but stops when he tells her to. Feeling more than just confused at his hot and cold replies, she dares to crane her neck around the door to look at Taehyung, frowning when she sees him still standing in front of the mirror staring into it unblinkingly, as if he'd seen a ghost.

"T-Tae..." Her tongue stutters around his name as she leans in further trying to snap him back to reality. "Can you hear me, Taehyung?"

We are you, we are me.

He screwed his eyes shut, the grip on the sink so strong that his knuckles turned white, veins underneath his skin popping from the strain.

Gnashing his teeth together, his words come out in a hiss, ''Don't you think I know?!''

He chews his lower lip between his teeth. Why was this happening now?

Our little whore is here, Taehyung.

Taehyung's eyes fly open, turning his neck abruptly to look over his shoulder, a startled look on his face, small beads of sweat trickling down his temples, ''Doctor..''

 She throws the door a little wider, hearing the obvious hiss slipping past his lips. She's about to reach for his shoulders and shake him out of whatever it was when he turns around himself, a flare of recognition in his eyes— but wait, the earlier lightness in them was absent, the brown of his pupils all murky and she steps closer with concern painted over her features.

"Yeah, I've been trying to reach you for the past five minutes..." She takes his hand, wrapping her fingers around it to check his pulse which was indeed beating too rapidly like she suspected. Her other hand goes up to his face, first checking his eyes by gently pulling his lower lid down before she presses her palm to his forehead to feel for his temperature. "I think it's time for your medication again." Her fingers trail down to cup his cheeks, hoping her touch would calm him down. "Are you okay? Did something happen?"

The touch of her hand made his insides stir, the familiar heat he hadn't felt for a while burning underneath the skin of his hand. Fuck… He wants to..

Medication? Yes, it was time.

But he felt the darkness inside of him fighting against the thought. He didn't want to take them. The very moment her hands reached for his face, his eyes darkened further, widening as a sharp exhale allowed to push through his lips.

She was taunting him-- it. Unknowingly.

''I'm fine... I'm good.'' his voice was slightly strained, but his normal self was slowly drowning, fighting the urges growing within. 

Feeling his hand faintly tremble in her hold, she swiftly shakes her head as she observes his unfocused gaze along with his pinched tone— everything pointing at him not being fine. 

"No, you're not..." A part of her feels responsible for his relapse, having not monitored the time properly. She could fix it though, as soon as she gets him back into the bed and sends out a message from her tab for his scheduled dosage.

It would be so, so easy for Taehyung to just… Give in.

''No.'' He huffs out in response to himself.

"We just need to get you back on your meds and you'll be okay. Just—" She's struggling to force him back into the room when his refusal stops her abruptly. "What do you mean ‘No’?" Her eyes flash up to meet his almost unrecognizable ones. "Tae?"

Taehyung looks down to avert her eyes, refusing to meet hers. He doesn't want her to see his obvious struggle, but it was to no avail as his entire body was trembling…

"I'm okay."

He wasn't.

"I don't need it."

We don't want it.

His mind suddenly started to swirl. The door was locked unless his doctor used the card. Where was it? Around her neck. The tablet? On his bed.

It’s too easy.

He took a deep breath, one he didn't control on his own as the last shred of himself was drowned by his darkness. His nightmares shifted his entire demeanor. That's when his lips curled into a wolfish grin, finally lifting his gaze to meet hers once more, "My daffodil..."

Staring as the tremors travel through his body from his hands, she doubles her efforts to tug him back into the room and she's almost successful when he begins mumbling under his breath. Pausing to lean closer to hear him out properly, "You need it. You won't be okay until you take the meds." Was he just stalling because he didn't like the drugs?

"Taehyung..." She comes to a halt abruptly when he goes stock still making it impossible to move him anywhere. The trembling seemed to have ceased making her frown and try to peek under his messy locks only to freeze upon seeing those all too familiar cold and fathomless dark eyes staring back at her in glee. 

"No..." The word barely leaves her lips at the nickname he was all too fond of calling her by now. "No, Tae. Snap out of it!" Both her hands moved to his arms trying to shake him before he did something. "This is not you."

Taehyung tilts his head to the side, the grin on his lips only growing, his head bobbing a little from the momentum of her shaking him, his long fringe dangling over his darkened eyes.

''This isn't me?'' He chuckles, ''But isn't this the me you yearn for?''

His hands reach up to wrap around her wrists, stopping her from shaking him any further,

''We-- I... can finally feel it again.'' His grip tightens around her wrists, using his body to force her to walk with him towards his room-- his gaze fixed on the bed. He wanted her there.

''Doctor...'' He smiles, the boxy, warm smile appearing once more to mess with her head.

She turns completely still at his question. Did she long for this Taehyung? The answer comes in a blink. No. Never. Now, if only she could make him believe that and maybe push him back into his mind long enough—

Her feet unwittingly backs further into his room, giving in to his push like always. But her brows furrow together in confusion at his words. He spoke like Tae with that grin she adores so much and yet, his eyes remained cold and eery, filled with something too twisted for her to grasp.

Soon the back of her knees hit the edge of the bed, making her stumble and fall back into it pulling him along. A cold shiver passes down her spine realizing their position. It must have been his intention all along. It was impossible to get to the door with him hovering above her, and her tab was too far away on the table along with their long forgotten food. She can't even shout for help in these soundproof walls.

"Feel what? W—weren't you hungry just now? The food is right there..." She keeps speaking softly to buy herself some time, her mind rapidly thinking for a way out. "Tae, this is not you... please. Don't do something you'd regret."

His hands fall on each side of her head, hovering over her body with his own, his long curls hanging to frame his face as he stares down at her. Pursing his lips in an almost childish pout, he breathes out his frustration through his nose.

''Why do you keep saying that? That I'm not me...'' He leans down closer, his face lingering a little too close-- yet not, to him being this close to her wasn't that weird.. They've done more intimate things. ''Doctor,'' he repeats, his eyes quivering as he meets hers, as if there was something--or someone disturbing his mind. Fighting him.

She's all yours now.

Taehyung screwed his eyes shut for a mere moment, shaking his head.

''No---..'' Gnashing his teeth together, his internal struggle evident.

She swiftly turns her head to the side, pressing her cheek into the mattress when he leans too close for comfort. They might have done things in the past, but she was determined to be his therapist only and help him recover more than anything.

That's why her stance falters when she hears him call her doctor instead of daffodil. Her eyes snap open, darting back to check on him to know for sure. But she's met with his closed ones instead.

She peers around the bed to see if she could disorient him enough to roll away and hit the buzzer for additional help under the table. Throwing her caution to wind, she pushes at Taehyung's chest, knocking his form sideways and tries to roll out of the bed, only to end up stuck half hanging over the edge. What she didn't consider was how their legs were tangled from her previous fall into the bed, making it impossible to shake him off. Fuck.

Taehyung's eyes fly open when he's shoved to the side, watching as she struggles to get off the bed.

Bad move. The Taehyung she knew was no longer there, pushed to the very corners of himself by the darkness erupting inside of him-- triggered by her attempt to escape.

His lips curl up into a wicked grin at the sight, like a predator watching it's helpless prey caught in his web. He enjoyed it. No, he loved it.

''Oh, flower... '' He breathes out with a chuckle, sitting up on the bed before reaching out to pull her back in by the arm, swiftly flipping her down on her back as he straddles her waist, wrists tightly pinned above her head, ''Just what did you think you were gonna do?''

"No..." A helpless cry, muffled by their struggle, slips past her lips as she's forced on her back again on the bed with absolutely no room for escape with Taehyung's weight pressing down upon her. The situation slowly looked too dire for her as she glanced up at the shadow of the man she thought she understood so well by this point.

"Taehyung, please!" She pleads, twisting her wrists within his hold. By now, she'd unknowingly begun calling this version by his full name while she called the other one, Tae, not hiding her fondness for him. "This isn't what you want, trust me. Just... let me go and we can pretend this never happened." Her body unknowingly writhes below him as she tries to free herself.

The way she squirmed underneath him brought Taehyung a sick satisfaction, a low groan vibrating in his chest at the feeling, the slight friction against his crotch. He smiled, his eyes were dead cold as they stared at her face, wrap around her wrists tightening further.

“No.”

Nothing more, nothing less. He didn't want to stop.

They didn't want to stop.

So, instead, Taehyung made sure he had both her wrists pinned down by one hand, using the other to grasp her chin between his rough fingers, guiding her lips to his own in a, from his end, hungry kiss.

Witnessing how his face twists in delight as she fights more, her efforts only making the slow growing bulge in his pants rub against her thighs, she stops completely to not rile him up any further. But that only proves to be ineffective when he more or less takes her still demeanor for silent compliance when he forces his lips down upon hers, pressing down insistently.

As much as a dark part of her wanted to relish in it, her rational side won for now and she tries to shake off Taehyung's harsh grip on her chin to no avail. There's a particularly harsh squeeze of wrists together by his long fingers causing her to gasp and immediately, she could feel his tongue slip past her lips and flood her with his taste. And she's almost a goner by then, her mind flashing with memories of both pleasure and pain brought by him and him alone.

Taehyung felt her struggle less underneath him, a sick piece of him slightly disappointed at how easily she gave in-- another piece happy because he interpreted it as willingness.

The kiss deepens, a rumbling moan transferring to her mouth as his tongue swirls around hers, giving it a needy suck to taste her.

Fuck, he'd missed her taste. It was better than any of the drugs.

When he'd indulged enough in her lips, the aching in his pants was getting hard to ignore-- but he did his damned best to, he wanted something else… Slowly, Taehyung withdrew from the kiss to let his lips press against her jawline, down her neck to alternate between biting and sucking on her skin, adamant to mark her as his own, all while his body shuffled lower, instead positioning himself on his knees between her legs, forcing her to spread them as he pressed his rock hard bulge against her clothed core.

A soft cry of protest from her throat makes it clear how much she detests it when he begins marring her skin with his marks. She once again wriggles her wrists in his iron grip, making an effort to pry them free, but fails.

"Taehyung, stop marking me!" She yells out a hissed whisper, gritting her teeth together. There was no way she could explain them to her if someone, or worse, Namjoon saw it. And he was bound to, if she made it to their dinner date which was gradually looking impossible at this point.

When he shows no sign of stopping, she resigns to her fate with her eyes clenched shut trying to dissociate herself from what was happening. But not a minute later, they fly open when a very obvious hardness presses against her heat.

How? How the hell did he feel arousal when he was given hormone suppressants?

Her back arches off the bed, inadvertently pushing her breasts against his chest as she digs her hips into the mattress to keep his length from rubbing into her core. Tossing her head to the side, a tear slides down her cheek when a part of her feels sick enough to crave his touch, especially the intimate ones when she knows she shouldn't if she wanted to uproot this obsession he had with her.

He couldn't stop, he was too far gone, drowning in his desire for her as he continues to kiss her skin until he reached the neckline of her shirt above her chest. His hands quickly moved to tug at the fabrics to get them off, wasting no time in his need to see her, feel her. When he finally managed to get it off her, he sat up straight to simply admire. His dimmed eyes fixated on the bra covering her most intimate parts. Taehyung licked his lips at the sight, ''Beautiful.''

With just the tiniest bit of struggle, she lets him push her shirt off her frame, exposing her upper half to his greedy eyes. Her skin tingles self consciously at his stare, having never let him see her this vulnerable before. Despite his hands having left her wrists, she still keeps them above her head without even being asked to. Maybe there was a part that wanted this just as much as her brain seemed to be averse to it.

Her nipples perk up beneath her bra, straining against the lace under his eyes as she watches his tongue sliding over his lips wetly, making her shudder at the sudden want rushing through her. She knows this is wrong on so many levels, but the glutton for punishment in her drives her enough to want both the pain and pleasure of his touch. After denying him for so long, a little sound of need slips past her lips shamefully. "Tae..."

Taehyung felt as if his soul quivered at her words.

Finally, she's ours again.

''Say my name again,'' He smiled as he allowed his shameless hands to smooth over the skin of her stomach, all the way until he reached the laced bra blocking his view. He'd lie if he said he didn't absolutely love the way she looks in it though, laced underwear being just another add-on to his fetishes.

He toyed with the hem of the bra, slowly pulling it down to expose her breasts for his hungry eyes. Taehyung clamps his lower lip between his teeth as he cups her chest in his hands. This was the first time he felt her like this, and he cursed himself for not doing it sooner.

''Say my name again.'' His voice lowered as he repeated the request, eyes darkening even further, if that was even possible As he said the words, he rolled her nipples between his fingers, giving them a sudden pinch to draw a reaction, testing her pain tolerance.

"Tae..." She repeats at his demand, her tone getting a little surer this time as she rolls her lip between her teeth on seeing the pure need in his eyes. The softest gasp leaves her parted lips when his sinfully long fingers slide up her skin and bares the evidence of her own desire, her breasts that sag down with no support till he picks them up in his large hands.

Her breathing stutters at the feel of his warm palms perfectly fitting over her soft mounds and she unconsciously widens her thighs for him to settle between them more snugly. With each air intake, she pushes more of her chest into his hold until he squeezes her sensitive nipples making her whimper hotly.

There. There was the speck of pain she was looking for. But she also wanted the pleasure that only he can give her. "Taehyung, please."

Nothing sounded better to his ears than her whiny pleads. Taehyung hovered over her, rocking his hips against her core in a teasing manner-- to let her know exactly how hard he is already, just for her.

''So cute when you beg..'' He praises, leaning down to encase her nipple in his mouth. A low, muffled groan vibrated in his throat at the friction he provided himself through continuously pressing his clothed cock against you, his tongue flicking her hardening nipple in his mouth. Giving it a harsh suck, his dark gaze is fixed on her face, raising an eyebrow as if asking her to tell him what exactly it is that she wants.

Even if he already knows, he couldn't get enough of hearing how needed he really is.

Her chest flushes from his little praises and the attention he showers on her pliant form with his hungry eyes. She clenches her eyes shut at the first touch of his hot mouth around her aching nipple, making her stifle a loud moan. Her fingers, having a mind of their own, move down to sneak into his messy curls to hold him close to her chest as she sighs at the feel of his tongue playing with her pebbled peaks.

Her entire body shudders with each teasing thrusts of his despite the hurdle of their clothes, but it's the second infliction of pain on her sensitive nipples that makes her eyes flutter open to look at his coal dark gaze. Pushing his hair off his eyes, she tenderly runs her thumb across his cheek in a sudden burst of some unnamed emotion.

"Need you, Tae." She tells him softly, the dark and greedy part of her silencing her logical side in the presence of his lustful form hovering over to devour her whole. Waiting to ruin her for anyone else as if he hasn't already. "Want to feel you deep inside me, please..."

He felt his cock throb at her begging. How could he possibly deny her this? It's what he's been craving for her to say over and over, whining his name as he fucks her until there's nothing but a blank stare of lust in her eyes.

''I know you do,'' He murmurs the second he pulls away from her nipple to sit up straight on his knees, tugging at the hem of his pants to pull them down. There was no time to waste, each second precious before they'd come looking for her. He wiggles the fabrics down his hips, his rigid length proudly bobbing in front of him as he keeps moving his hands to pull down your panties, leaving the skirt on to please his own visuals. There was no time for foreplay, but as he expected; she was already fucking soaked for him. He could tell by the way her panties were basically crumbled together in a wetness in the crotch area, crooking an eyebrow as he tossed them aside.

''I've missed you,'' He stared down at her as he said so, speaking both to her and her body.

Another moment, taking it slow yet not wasting a single second. with one hand he gave himself a few slow strokes before lubricating his tip between her soppy folds, the other hand settling on her hip to keep her in place.

Whimpering softly when his lips leave her, she surrenders herself completely to his mercy as he pulls off her clothes as he wished. Her fingers itch to feel his skin and she gives in to the urge, letting one of her hands to tentatively snake down her body until it settles beneath the hem of his shirt.

They had never done this completely naked before and she knew she'd only feel even more vulnerable if she allowed him to see her. But she couldn't stop the part of her that craved intimacy even if she was nothing more than a warm body for him to satisfy his appetite.

As soon as he presses his leaking tip against her sloppy folds, her other hand slips under his shirt and she splays her fingers flat against his back to push him down upon her, effectively sheathing his entire length inside her in a single thrust. Her lips part in a silent moan at the stretch around his fat cock, "Missed this. Missed your cock..." She rambles as she locks her legs around his hips, rocking her hips up to see if he'd move.

"Fuck..." Taehyung bit back an eager moan when he felt her heat engulf his entire length, eyes fluttering shut for a second to just... feel. "Tight, just for me.." He breathes out, eyes opening back up slowly to stare down at her. He didn't waste time to start moving, grinding his hips into her to rub and prod her deepest parts, his lips parting as warm huffs slipped through them, arms flexing as he kept himself up on his elbows, inches away from her face to keep a close eye on every expression on her face. "Feels good, feels so good." He murmurs quietly, the undertone of his possessiveness growing more evident with his thrusts that remained slow but firm, gradually building up his momentum. He wanted to savor every stroke, every moan, and every clenching of her cunt around his length.

She nods her head hastily at his words. It felt good. Too good. And this was why she let him have her over and over again, more out of her own greed and need to be satisfied in every way possible, and only Taehyung ever came close to that even if she knew she should have never crossed that line which made it harder to go back the more she stayed in his presence.

Her moans turn into whimpers with each of his deep thrusts, her insides clenching around every ridge and curve of his delicious length that was splitting her apart. Snapping her eyes open, she glances up at his own, his irises dark like two black holes, sucking her in like there was no tomorrow. Snaking her hand up his back and into his hair, she tugs it back sharply till his neck arches out towards her eager lips. Pressing a kiss to his Adam's apple, she gently sinks her teeth into it before sucking a mark on the skin as it bobs beneath her lips.

She tightens her legs around him, pulling him close until there's no distance between their flushed and sweaty skin, raising her hips to meet his, angling herself so the tip of his length would rub against her sweet spot repeatedly. Moving her lips away from his throat, she trails open mouthed kisses up his jaw messily till she reaches his ear and licks into it.

"More, Taehyung... please!" She gasps softly, feeling something different in the way he handled her body unlike the times before. But her brain was too much wasted in the pleasure coursing through her limbs to analyze it anymore.

One throaty moan after the other slipped past Taehyung's lips. He relishes how breathy and clear her voice sounded in his ear-- ‘More, Taehyung. Please!'

She's asking for more, Taehyung. You're too soft on her.

We want more.

Taehyung clenched his jaw at the urges building in his body, his thrusts growing rougher. Low grunts rumbled in his throat, trying to keep himself occupied-- this was good, so good.

But something was missing. He missed her sobs. Her cries in pain. Her begging through tears.

"Shit..." Taehyung hissed. It was too tempting, his desires already overtaking him entirely. She was right there, begging for his cock. She wants it.

Taehyung did something he'd never done before in the midst of it all. He grasped her chin, guiding her lips to his own in a gentle kiss. Nothing behind it, no lust, no pain. Only an unnamed emotion. He pulled back to look at her, a hint of his brightness flashed in his irises before they were once again devoured by the darkness within.

Taehyung got up on his knees, hands firmly digging into her milky thighs as he pushed them back properly against her chest, watching her wet cunt spread for him as he began moving his hips at a punishing pace.

She's still reeling from the unexpected kiss he presses upon her lips so gently, the surprise in her eyes evident as she blinks up at him when he changes his angle. She'd seen the brief flash of clarity beneath the dark embers that burnt her through his gaze and now more than ever, she was determined to find it once again and make it stay.

The barest hint of his saner self was enough to reel her back into an alarming sense of safety, trapping her deeper into his clutches as he rammed himself into her folded form with a renewed vigor. One of her hands travel up his chest and towards his cheek, cupping it gently to make him look down at her as her breasts bounce against her thighs every time he mercilessly pushes inside her, almost making her body jolt off the bed.

Too much. It was slowly becoming too much for her sensitive body to take anymore. Her moans stutter down to cries, begging for release, her hair falling wildly on to his pillow escaping its updo as she thrashes beneath him. With her eyes closed now, the squelching sound from the way he thrusted into her dripping folds seemed too obscene.

"I'm close... so close, Tae. Don't stop!" She sobs out loud, clearly confused between his two selves as her clit thrums with her impending release, her mind muddled completely from the way he was ruining her.

"Gah..." Taehyung grunts between heavy breaths, driving his hips forward over and over, repeating the sinful motion as he fucks into her like there was no other purpose he desired to fulfill.

He felt her fleshy, squelching insides constrict around his fat length as her orgasm quickly built up, only spurring him to continue-- and even accelerate the power behind his thrusts.

More. Give her more.

Louder... Harder.

"More." Taehyung said it out loud, the faint yet loud whisper in his head that fueled the fire in his body, desperate to find his own high. Pleasure, it was all he wanted. To feel something.

And because of her, he was able to feel the closest to alive he's ever felt.

"Cum on my cock-- fuck!" Taehyung growls, the darker corner of his mind on fire, growing stronger the closer he gets to his own release. He is tireless, greedy to feel as much as possible, to hear the way his cock plunges into her hot flesh, the sound so sinful it makes Tae's length throb heavily.

He just needed one last push. To feel her cunt squeeze around him like a vice grip to be able to reach his limit-- to hear her choked wails as she cums, silent cries in pain when he keeps fucking her past her sensitivity. The mere thought of this makes him moan out loud, grinding his hips into her to allow the swollen head of his cock to abuse her deepest parts.

Tears stream down the sides of her face, drenching his pillow behind her as pain begins to overwhelm her vulnerable body. Her fingers grapple to find purchase as his thrusts jerk her up further on the mattress, making the headboard bang against the wall with each of his movements. Wrapping her fingers around his arms that hold her almost folded in two, her nails dig into his skin enough to draw blood as he pushes himself even deeper into her if it were possible, making her feel his thick length pulse all the way inside her womb.

With his guttural voice moaning deeply above her, one last punishing thrust from Taehyung finally pushes her over the edge as pain and pleasure mingle together wrecking her body in agonizing waves of orgasm. She unravels with a strangled moan, her lips open in a muted scream as more tears flow down her face when he seems to take her with no pause even as her drippy orgasm is fucked out of her.

"T-Tae... please!" She begs as she cracks open her eyes to watch him fuck her hapless body brutally through her orgasm. "I can't... please— too much, baby." She gasps out breathlessly, trying to inhale in the air despite the pain in her ribs. "Baby stop!" She tries one more time, clawing at the strained muscles in his arm to make him see he was hurting her.

"Don't give in to the darkness, Taehyung. L-let go... and come back to me." The last part is said in a whisper as she fights the exhaustion trying to shroud her mind. She can't pass out. Not now. As one last try, she squeezes her insides around his cock tightly to make it harder for him to move. "Let go baby..."

Taehyung barely hears her pleas, too deep down in his own sea of rapture from the way her body squirms and clenches around his cock. Every sound she makes fuels the fire inside of him, the broken skin on his arms burning-- everything adds to the powerful high he feels.

"No, n-no...." He huffs, slowing down just slightly to look at her through his stringy fringe, still rubbing his swollen cock deeply inside of her. "I'm gonna cum inside."

And hurting her in the process didn't do anything but please him. After all, the sadism he possessed seemed to have grown stronger since he met her, and yet it seemed.... less. This entire illness contributed to the fact that he was even put in a facility, and here he is, on the edge of indulging fully in his sick desires.

But he doesn't cross it. Although his fingers itched to grasp her small throat in his large hand, it seemed as though she was on the verge of passing out just from his cock. And a sense of pride beamed within him. She squeezed his cock tighter, attempting to make it harder for him to move. But what she didn't realize is just how much he loved the tightness it provided, as if he had to work harder to spread her insides with his girth.

"Fuck, keep doing that... I'm so close...unff..." Taehyung's deep voice cracked into a whine when his orgasm hit him after one last rough thrust. He pins her body in place, keeping his cock deeply lodged inside as his cock pulsates rhythmically to empty himself of everything he had to offer. It's a feeling he never grows tired of, carelessly pumping his cum into her as if she's now claimed by his essence.

He breathes heavily, slowly moving his hips in a few shallow thrusts, staring down at her with possessive eyes-- eyes that didn't wash down to go back to his normal self as quickly as it previously would've.

Unable to hold on to her consciousness, her legs fall limply from around his hips held up only by his large hands that had her completely folded up. Her fingers tire from the constant clawing, simply wrapping around his arms now as her eyes roll back into her head briefly as he rams into her with one hard and final thrust, beginning to fill her ruined walls with his hot seeds.

She wanted to shake her head. To tell him to stop from pumping her full of his cum because she didn't want to risk a pregnancy in their current states. But no words make it past her swollen lips as he indulges fully in her exhausted body, making her realize how powerless she really was in the fact of his unbridled lust.

A muffled moan sounds from her throat, her neck and jaw hurting from the way she had to hold back most of her cries. It felt like he had filled her up heavily to the brim. There was so much more than the one time she'd let him have her before, her womb swelling up slightly from the amount of cum he dumped into her.

Taking in steadying breaths to not completely slip away into the blackness dotting her vision, she slowly pries her eyes open to see him above her, her body immediately shuddering at the dark look in his gaze that failed to disappear even after he'd found his high.

"Tae..." She rasps out, her throat feeling like sandpaper. "It's okay. I— I'm all yours now. Only yours. Come back..." She gently coaxes his other side, hoping to not trigger the monster in him again as she's sure she wouldn't survive if he decided to take her one more time.

As if the darkness slowly melted off of him by the second as it had been sated, his expression morphs from wicked to concerned-- with a hint of a smile when she says the one few words he'd longed to hear for so long.

"I'm here, doctor." He leans in close, lower lip trembling when he kisses her forehead gently, then withdraws to look at her. He swipes a thumb underneath her damp eyes, sighing at what he's done once again-- he'd succumbed to the darkness that seemed to overtake his senses more frequently..

But look what it gave you, Taehyung. Look where it brought her. Right into your grasp.

"Don't worry, I will always be here." Tae's smile grows to reassure his doctor, the familiar box-shaped grin that could melt the coldest of hearts. It's as if he wasn't just tearing her apart for his own sick pleasures. He pulls out finally, groaning quietly as he does so, sitting up on his knees. He places a warm palm on her trembling thigh, soothing it with a rubbing movement. "You mean it, right?"

He seems to be back. The crazed and uninhibited possession in his gaze has softened a bit. The monster has retreated to its hiding place, for now. Despite any amount of reassuring words, it still lives within him--that much is certain as she tries to lift herself to a sitting position and struggles to do so. 

She nods, strings of sweat-matted hair sticking to her forehead. “I mean it--” The door handle rattles.

“Doctor?” Namjoon’s voice rings from the other side, clear as a bell.

Get rid of him. 

“Don’t,” Taehyung whispers, but not at anyone in particular.

“Fuck… Tae, get dressed.” 

“Doctor, is the patient with you?”

Another rattle. This time, it’s stronger. A key card scans for entrance, and that’s when Taehyung’s voice grows louder.

“Don’t come in!”

“Tae!” She rasps in a whisper, clamoring to tug her clothes on. “Keep your voice down!”

He’ll take her away. 

“It’ll be fine..”

“What are you…” She leans in to look at Taehyung and notices what little light he’s harbored in his eyes has now left indefinitely. “No, Tae, please... Don’t do this. Not now.”

Another rattle, and finally, the door flies open. With little to no notice, Namjoon stands in the open doorway with a startled expression.

“Step away from her.” He says it in a low tone with concerned, dark eyes. He strides into the room and shoulders the easel out of his way, causing the fresh painting to fall and crumple beneath the firm wood. Cautious footsteps tromp over Tae’s work to get to them quicker, smearing the paint and tacking it beneath his shoes as he strides. 

The white of the bells have barely dried, meshing into the green that surrounds them. But the shape is still distinct, and it’s all Tae can see. His attention snaps back to her as her fingers mindlessly intertwine into his for comfort. This time, it’s for her. 

“Don’t look at it,” she soothes, running her thumb over his hand. Taehyung stares down blankly at their hands, then back at her. His eyes are vacant, but his lips tug into a warm smile. Before he’s able to speak, Namjoon’s voice demands their attention.

“Don’t touch. Please, just..” His hands clasp together in front of his chest, assessing the sight before him. He’s a patient man, and he’s seen a lot during his time as the head of the facility, but nothing like this. “Doctor, please...release the patient’s hand. We need to take him in for evaluation. His behavior is erratic.”

“Hah..” Taehyung crooks a bushy brow Namjoon’s way when he looks up at him, “Erratic? She’s the one holding my hand.” 

“I’ve got this under control, Joon..” Her voice cracks as she tries to hold her composure, half-naked and trembling with nerves. No matter how she tries to clarify what the facility head has walked into, it’s no use. 

 “No, you don’t.” Namjoon shakes his head lightly, with grave disappointment. “Let go of him.”

It’s harder than she’d admit, feeling a sense of comfort in the warmth of her patient’s hand that she could never describe to Namjoon. As long as they’re touching like this, she knows his humanity is intact. He can’t hurt her or himself.

“Give me more time with him. He was turning a corner, I just--”

“It’s over,” Joon tuts, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have reassigned you here. It was too dangerous.” He refrains from making a grimace at the way Taehyung’s small grin grows wider when she only grabs his hand tighter. Namjoon sighs, keeping his eyes on the other man instead of the half-dressed state she’s in, “And… get dressed. The nurses are on their way.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“This is serious. You’ve become...compromised. If you don’t cooperate, I can’t save you from this.”

“We made a breakthrough.” She swallows tight and squeezes Tae’s hand tighter, earning light red imprints where her fingers lay before releasing. “It’s not conventional, but it was working.”

“Just put some clothes on and we’ll talk about it, okay?”

Taehyung watches with intrigue, the way she followed Namjoon’s orders without much of a fight. He didn’t bother to get dressed more than the sweatpants he had earlier, crossing his arms over his broad chest. It seems there isn’t much he can do to change the direction of where this is going, so he keeps his cool and instead decides to marvel in the last few minutes he’s got left to look at her. 

“Keep your eyes on me,” Joon directs the patient. “Stop looking at her like that.” He turns his attention to her, relaxing his shoulders with relief when he notices her bare skin has been covered by more clothing.

Two nurses enter the room and naturally make their way to Tae, gently holding him by the arms to pull him out. 

“Wait..” Her eyes widen when Taehyung is lifted from the bed and removed from her side. “W-wait!”

“Please, keep calm,” Joon warns. “Let’s not make a scene.”

She latently realizes that this could be the last time she ever sees him. Even after all that he’s done to her, she struggles to separate her work from the bond they’ve formed. How could she forget, when his cum spills from her body and onto the bed. The bruises and marks are visible on her skin, and despite resisting them before, she wishes there were more.

Taehyung complies with the smallest boxy smirk on his lips, looking over his shoulder at her.

“I guess this is it, little daffodil,” Tae says with a smile, but it doesn’t reach his dark eyes, “For now.”

“Take him to solitary to be evaluated.” Namjoon walks to the bedside and wraps her shoulders with a blanket, to preserve her modesty. “We need a moment.”

The nurses followed his orders and left them to speak, sworn to the highest level of discretion by order of the facility head. 

“Come,” one of them prompted, nudging Tae slightly to pull his attention from her. But Tae’s gaze never wavered, not until he was out of the room, ushered and contained. 

“Bye.” she quietly replied, too late for him to hear.

Once they left, there were no witnesses or eavesdroppers to validate what was shared between the two of them. What’s certain is, after a week of bureaucratic back and forth and a mountain of paperwork, she was gone. Without formal notice, left of her own accord. ‘Personal reasons,’ the official documents said. 

Tae was transferred to another facility almost immediately. Namjoon was expedient in delivering his case to another establishment, well equipped for the likes of him. More barring, more locks. It was a tight-knit program with more rules and limitations, but he wasn’t Joon’s concern anymore. 

With Tae’s relocation came rumors amongst the facility staff. Why was he moved so suddenly? There was plenty of talk around it, but none of the gossip stuck. As weeks passed, so did the news around infamous Kim Taehyung and his short-lived treatment under their care. 

That was it, and life moved on. For everyone else at least.

The memories lived with her, everyday. 

Time passed. Weeks turned into years. She moved from job to job, and her time with Taehyung was left at the facility that day. What she remembers clearly is that Namjoon asked her to leave in return for his favor of silently dealing with her mistakes. And he did a good job dealing with them. It was his way of showing he cared, by giving her the chance to walk away and start anew. 

So she did.

A tall vase of daffodils sits on her dining room table, brightening up the room with their cheery yellow petals. Springtime arrived, which she enjoyed now-a-days, finding the most vibrant flowers at the market to decorate her home with. Their beauty fades day by day as they begin to wilt, but she holds onto them as long as she can. It’s a simple pleasure that brings a smile to her face, pleased to nurture something with such care.

She walks to her coffee pot to pour a new cup. It’s late in the morning, but she still wears her robe and slippers, uncaring of doing much more than step onto her front porch for a bit of sunshine before going back inside to watch television. With a steaming mug in her hand, and the aroma of mouth-watering coffee filling her senses, she does just that.

Sundays are lazy and quiet, for the most part. There are very few surprises out in the countryside. However, a slip of paper on her doorstep is atypical, to say the least. She unfolds it with the tip of her slipper to inspect it further, and uncovers what looks to be an original painting of violet irises. The paint smells fresh, like it had dried just before it was placed for her to find. 

She kneels down to take a closer look, pinching the note between her fingers.

“Through his pain...came beauty.” She reads it out loud, but pauses between words. Her voice strains to continue, but presses on. “…His art.” 

Heart pounds in her ears as she lifts her eyes to a small patch of wild irises she has growing in her garden. Starting at the base of the plant is a pair of boots, which seem to sprout from the floral bed. She trails up a pair of long legs, over slim hips and broad shoulders, until she reaches the face that’s haunted her for years--one she left behind in what feels like another life. 

Luscious curls, a sharp jaw...almond eyes, framed by full lashes. It’s all there, just as she remembers it. There’s even that dark and innocent gaze staring back at her, devouring her, making up for lost time. Once they lock eyes, she forgets everything she wanted to say to him. Years of practice, and all she can muster is the smallest--

“Tae?”

Taehyung’s toothy smile grows wide at the sound of her voice. Years of patience finally paid off. He slowly approaches her as to not startle her, like a deer in headlights. With a gentle touch, he reaches out to brush his thumb against her damp cheek.

“Hello, daffodil.”

© sombreboy 2021. Do not repost, edit or translate.

#fic: daffodil nightmares #daffodil dreams #yandere taehyung #yandere bts #taehyung smut #dom taehyung #taehyung x female #bts smut #taehyung dubcon #bts dubcon #twdubcon #twnoncon #kim taehyung smut #yandere kim taehyung #kim taehyung x female

[darkroadarda]

Although she is of the blood of mighty elf lords and was raised according to her birth, Eleniel has lived most of her life in Middle Earth amongst men for centuries. Comfortably settled in her unimportant existence as Astrid, the last thing she expected was to be swept away by an envoy of the Valar.

Now, she has been sent to a time and place of which she has heard plenty of but does not really understand. Facing the dangers and brutality of an age long lost in time, she must do what she had sworn she would never do in order to survive and fulfill a mission that was thrust unknowingly upon her before she was even born.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/5851318

#Fanfic #TheSilmarillion #the lord of the rings #Silm #LOTR #fanfction #OFC #OriginalFemale Character #Maedhros #tolkien #jrr tolkien #Fanfic banner #dark desire

[darlingdarkly]

New Year, New You Part 5

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish x f!reader

Personal Trainer AU

4.5k words

CW: dubcon!, dark fic, dark content, obsessive behavior, dirty talk, explicit language, E rated, NSFW, smut, 18+, mature themes

Part 1, 4, 6

Johnny realizes he’s obsessed, that’s what makes him different. An insane, deranged person doesn’t know what they’re doing, doesn’t actually see the boundaries they’re crossing. Completely oblivious to the downward spiral they’re on, but Johnny can see it, he knows he’s losing the battle with himself.

It’s that damn Fitbit. It was an impulse buy, he saw it, saw the opportunities it created and jumped on it. It didn’t matter the price, money was no object, he’d buy you five more in five different colors if that’s what you’d like. It was the dilemma it created for him that did him in. It gave him 24/7 access to you, unrestricted, unsupervised looks into your life at any given time that he just couldn’t get any other way.

He checked in on you constantly, almost ridiculously often, sometimes he couldn’t stand five minutes between opening the app. He’d scroll aimlessly through his social media only to switch back to it. He tried putting his phone in his locker while he worked out but just after warm ups he’d cave and go retrieve it.

It was the closest thing he could get to shrinking himself down and climbing up on your shoulder, a fly in every room you’ve ever entered. It only provided him the most basic of information, your vitals, heartbeat and respiratory levels, your stress levels and location, but it was enough, just to know you were breathing halfway across town put him at ease.

He wished he’d altered it before he gifted it to you, plant a bug in it so he could hear you all the time, just the sound of your voice would be enough to make the hours between sessions pass by faster, make them more bearable. But he’d been in such a hurry to give it to you, to see your reaction, be more in tune with you that he’d passed up on it, it just simply would take too long.

He contemplated sneaking into your apartment in the night, using the cover of darkness to infiltrate your home, sneaking back into your room and planting it then, he’d even have the opportunity to watch you sleep, but there was always the risk of waking you up and while you hadn’t called the police the first time you’d discovered he’d been in your house that might become a different story if he did it in the dead of night, while you were actually home.

He’d been in your house, many, many times. Typically between your commute to work and your break for lunch when it was most unlikely for you to come home for anything, plus he always had the app to tell him if you doubled back for something, like last time. He’d hidden in your shower as he listened to you unlock the door, come back to your bedroom and grab whatever it was you’d forgotten.

He waited for you to turn off your street and continue on to your job before he came out, lying down and stretching out on the expanse of your sheets as he watched you make it to work safely. This became a routine for him, a guilty pleasure he found himself indulging in more and more often.

At first he resisted, he really tried not to but then he found himself on your block, and then in front of your place and then inside. Like clockwork it’d become a part of his routine, he’d wake up, monitor you through the app as you woke up. He’d text you good morning, always leaving you baffled on how he knew precisely when you were awake every single time without fail. You’d do your morning routine and leave for work, then he’d head over. He’d always catch sight of you turning off the street as he came up the other end, timing it just right so he could watch you turn the corner.

He’d been in all your drawers, raiding through your panties and thoroughly examining your vibrator. He’d been through your bathroom, looking through all your soaps, shampoos and creams. He’d been through your closet, looking at all your clothes and imagining you in all of them, like a little doll he was playing dress up with.

He was very careful to put things back just as they were, so his intrusion would continue to go unnoticed and he could continue his secret excursions into your home. He just wanted to know you as completely as he could, to be a better trainer to you, to know those things that maybe you’re too shy to tell him.

If that made him a bad person then so be it. He could live with that if it meant being able to perform above and beyond for you. It was these circumstances, these chain of events that led up to him seeing you walking through the gym with Jason that perhaps pushed things into motion, this extreme sense of closeness that made his emotions take the wheel and his anger blind his better judgment, a catalyst in this chemical equation that had blown things out of proportion.

He was particularly hard on you that day, trying to push you a little farther than you’d been performing and it had left you tired and sore. You had just finished the cardio portion of your session, coming off the treadmill and lacing your fingers together behind your head, trying to catch your breath.

Johnny took down your time and used the app to capture your vitals and stats while you recovered. “Did good lass, makin’ steady progress.” When he looked up from his phone you were rubbing soothing circles into your lower back with a pained grimace on your pretty face. “What’s wrong, hen?”

You shook your head and tried to downplay it but he wasn’t fooled so easily and he pestered you about it until you caved and told him. “I’m just a little sore is all.” He hovered around you, pulling on each arm and massaging each of your legs, insisting on a thorough check for any injuries.

You begrudgingly let him, but insisted you were fine and just needed a little rest, but his mind was already filling up with ideas. He could take you home, draw you a nice hot bath, of course he’d have to climb in with you and wash you, he wouldn’t want you to strain yourself, get you all nice and soaped up, really work those muscles of yours and give them some relief, then maybe you both could find a little release in each other.

He was drawn from his plans by an ear piercingly loud squeal from behind him. It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand at attention and dread seep deep into his bones. He knew that squeal. “Johnneeeeeee!!!” He turned in time to receive the full push of her ample breasts in his face as she jumped up and onto him, he caught her but only because she’d caught him off guard, he would have been more than happy to let her drop straight to the floor.

He pried her off in time to stop her lips from reaching his face, where they were headed for a peppering of excited kisses. The woman in his arms was an old client of his. She was well off, extremely bubbly and the epitome of annoying. She also happened to be madly in love with him and to top it all off she was the gym owner's daughter, which in turn made him unable to ever be rid of her so long as he worked here.

You stare at the scene before you, a bit bewildered and his eyes snap to yours, swimming with an emotion you can’t quite identify, it’s when the conversation starts you realize it was actually a mix of shock and panic.

“I’m back! Are you happy to see me? I missed you! Did you miss me?” A rapid series of questions she doesn’t even wait to hear a response for before she’s firing out another. He starts to speak when she speaks over him. “Who’s this?” And the look on her face is of a toddler who’s been given a present only to open the box and not like what he sees, unfiltered, completely crystal clear disgust.

He physically moves away from her to draw you closer, tucking you under his arm possessively. “This is mah new client.” You give her a warm smile and introduce yourself, though it’s clear she neither cares enough to remember it nor introduce herself.

She ignores you completely and looks back to Johnny. “I came because I’ve been cleared and we can start back our sessions.” He rocks back on his heels and his mouth twists into an unsure grimace. “The doctor was very clear Olivia, you need time to heal.”

She walked up to him and pokes a manicured finger into his toned chest, response dripping with confidence. “Actually mister, I got cleared for regular exercise yesterday, so long as we don’t play too hard.” She turns to you with a sly smile, like she’s going to impart some great secret that you were just dying to hear. “This one tends to get a little handsy with his teachings.” She winks and you just stare at her blankly as Johnny shifts foot to foot impatiently the whole time, clearly uncomfortable.

The first chance to get a word in edgewise he starts to speak. “Olivia, can I talk to you privately?” She beams with enthusiasm. “Already trying to get me alone, I see. Let’s go.” Johnny turns to you with serious eyes. “Dinnae go anywhere, I’ll be right back.” And then he’s gone, his shadow a fit blonde in a tight pink tracksuit.

You stand by yourself a moment before your feet begin to protest and you pick up your gym bag and find a little bench out of the way to sit down and rest.

You sat patiently for ten minutes, but ten turned into twenty and twenty turned into thirty and you felt yourself actually drifting off as you sat in the busy gym and waited for Johnny’s return. Your legs were tired and you still had to walk home. You were rubbing at your screaming calves when a shadow was cast over you.

You looked up to see a man, a very strong, handsome man standing over you. Where Johnny was uniquely attractive, defined features and jutting imperfections coming together to create an unconventionally attractive image this man was the opposite. You’d seen him a hundred times in every mildly attractive man you’d ever passed on the street.

He was handsome, yes. His perfect white teeth, tanned skin and trimmed hair said so and you started to wonder if maybe they all went to the same dentist and tanning salon as some kind of job requirement. But he was also easily forgettable, the kind of face that would make you blush in passing if your eyes locked but one that you couldn’t quite recall later on in memory.

He introduced himself as Jason and said he worked at the gym as a massage therapist. You do remember vaguely reading in the pamphlet that they had massage therapists on staff but you had just assumed that meant by appointment or something. You should have known better though because you’d originally assumed the personal trainers worked the same way and Johnny had certainly not made an appointment to train with you.

“I can see you’re a little sore, am I correct?” You gave him a polite smile and tried to give him the same run around you’d given Johnny but it seemed you just lost your knack for being a convincing liar somewhere along the way because he didn’t take your word on it either.

“I can help you out with that if you’d like.” And before you can even give a reply he’d reached out and grabbed your leg, lifting it and began pressing into the meat of your sore calves with his thumbs and it was like magic, you instantly melted into his grasp and he smiled as he hooked you and began to reel you in.

“Oh yeah, so much tension in these calves, no wonder you’re in pain.” And then he stopped and the magic was gone and you took a deep breath, holding in the urge to frown.

He gently set your leg down and sat down next to you, close enough for you to smell his spicy aftershave and feel the warmth of his minty breath as he spoke. “Let me take you back to the table. Five minutes that’s all I’m asking and you’ll feel good as new. I promise.” You think about it, you were supposed to wait for Johnny but he really was taking forever and you really were a bit sore. “Come on, it’ll be quick.”

So you get up and follow him, chasing the glorious sensations of his magic hands on your aching muscles. Johnny watches from across the gym, his hands have turned into fists and his brow is furrowed. He watches you follow after Jason and disappear into the massage rooms and he can feel his cool begin to slip.

You follow him to a set of rooms, he picks one, knocks once on the door and enters. Following him inside you see a scarcely furnished room. Two tables are the only furnishings to speak of. One, off to the side has towels, bottles of water and a radio covering the surface. The one in the middle of the room is padded and looks comfy.

He instructs you to undress and lie down on the table but you refuse, not quite comfortable enough with the situation as it is, you still feel in the pit of your stomach like you’re doing something wrong. He tells you that the clothes will mitigate the massage and just get in the way and then leaves, leaving no room for argument. You pull your sweats down your legs but opt to keep your panties on.

You lie down on the table and cover yourself with the towel he’d provided, grumbling at the minute size of it as it came to rest just below the swell of your ass. You lay there feeling uncomfortable in your own skin and wonder how long he’ll give you before he comes back but you don't have to wait very long.

You hear the click of the door open, a slight pause and then you hear it shut, by the sound of the footsteps on the carpet you knew someone had entered but they’d yet to announce themselves and it made you a bit uneasy. Jason had been chatty enough before but now he’d fallen silent.

There was a pregnant moment of silence and you were right on the verge of speaking up when you felt hands on you, warm, strong. They began at your calf, smooth firm passes that had you holding your breath. It really did feel just divine, you had no idea how much tension had built up, all that running and exercising had made your new muscles sore and taut. You sighed as they moved down your leg and eventually down to your feet.

You tried hard to keep quiet but the way he was rubbing your feet let little moans escape your lips, quiet timid sounds but sounds nonetheless. The silence was peaceful but held an uneasy quality you still couldn’t shake. The warm hands left your feet and you all but whined at the loss of contact. You felt them once more on your lower thighs, grabbing handfuls of your flesh and kneading them carefully.

They rose higher and higher to a point you thought increasingly inappropriate. You found yourself suddenly thinking about Johnny as crazy as that was, it didn't make it untrue. You felt like maybe you were crossing some kind of line, you weren’t together but you weren’t not together either. Did casual sex make you off limits to other people? It was a boundary you as of yet hadn’t discussed because honestly your whole relationship was mostly undiscussed. He’d picked you seemingly at random and decided you were his new client, no questions, exchanges or substitutions.

But it wasn’t like you were fucking Jason, he was just helping you with your sore muscles, he’s a massage therapist, it’s literally his job. You thought about what he’d said to you last. “Dinnae go anywhere, I’ll be right back.” But he’d taken so long and Jason seemed so nice, he really just wanted to help, he could tell you were uncomfortable.

The roaming hands ghosted over the swell of your ass and skirted right up against your panties. You began to rise from the table and say something when a familiar voice broke the silence and a hand pushed you back down onto the table with force. “What did I say, bonnie?”

“Johnny! I-“ You tried once more to rise from the table but a stubborn hand pushed you back down again. His voice came again, harsher this time, almost angry. “What did I say?” You felt a lump in your throat but swallowed it down, now seemed like the time for answers, not silence. “Don’t go anywhere.”

“Aye, so ye can listen?” You lifted your head off the rest and turned it to the side, feeling a flush of shame under his heated gaze. “Johnny, wait I can explain.” You halfway hoped he’d cut you off and save you the trouble of trying to explain yourself but to your surprise he just waited to hear what you had to say.

He continued to massage you through your schpiel and it was making it hard to articulate what had happened in a way that didn’t make you sound in the wrong and pathetic all wrapped in one. You finished with Jason coaxing you into the massage room and sat unmoving but pliant under his working fingers. He hummed and seemed to consider your story for a moment and you felt it eating as your nerves in every second of silence he made you endure.

“We need tae have a talk, hen.” He flipped you over and pulled you down the table with a harsh yank and you made a surprised little yelp at the sudden movement. Now your ass was on the edge, legs dangling over the side as he slotted himself between your thighs. You stared up into his blue orbs silently, trying to read him but you couldn’t get a feel for anything other than an uneasy calmness that could potentially mean anything.

He sinks to his knees in front of you, and as his lips come level with your pussy you automatically shift to close your legs, you weren’t exactly comfortable with him nose and eye level with your sex at the moment, you didn’t feel fresh and clean after the strenuous workout he’d put you through. He tuts and slaps your thigh, it stings and you cry out as he pries them open again. “Can strip fer Jason but cannae keep yer legs open fer me.”

You gawk for a moment and start to speak but the look he gives you from between your legs demands silence. It is impossible for you to be any wetter, not a dry patch to speak of on the gusset of your cotton panties. It doesn’t help that he’s speaking directly to your soaked slit, the heat of his breath against it making gooseflesh erupt over your skin. “I leave the room fer twenty minutes and ye run off with the first man ye see.” You get a bit offended at this and try to protest which earns you another slap, this one right over your pussy, his fingers landing firmly on your clit, making you yelp and you finally decide it’s in your best interest to shut up for the moment.

“When ye became mah client ye became mine.” He reached up and settled a hand on your thigh, rubbing circles with his thumb into the soft skin, lovingly and gentle, a stark contrast from his previous slaps. “Every inch of ye is like my portfolio, the accumulation of my work and ye were gonna jus’ let him touch ye. Rub his greedy fuckin’ mits all over ye.”

You wanted to say something, express the discomfort that had plagued you, the guilt you’d felt following after him but then he leaned forward and licked up your clothed slit with the flat of his tongue and any sensible thought you may have had evaporated. He reached your clit and sucked hard, making your mouth drop open and a choked cry of his name fall from your lips, you cringe expecting more penance for the outcry but he seems to not mind your little outburst and only pulls away to keep talking.

“This body I’ve worked and toned and pushed is mine, I’m yer trainer and I’m the only one who gets tae touch ye.” You feel his hand leave your thigh and then the pads of his fingers find your clit and begin to rub it, slow firm circles that make your toes curl and his mouth latches over your hole, sucking your juices directly from the source through the fabric of your panties. Your hand finds purchase in the locks of his hair as you buck into the euphoria of his hot mouth.

The room is filled with moans, loudest of all his, vocal to the extreme as he frenches your slit with what can only be described as perfervid avarice. You feel your climax mounting and he must know because he slows down, granting you just the lightest touches over the top of your clit as he licks and sucks at pussy from over your panties like a ravenous dog.

You beg him for more, plead with him for that extra bit to push you over the edge, that last bit of friction you so desperately need but he seems not to even hear you, mumbling incoherently into your pussy while he ignores you completely.

But he must have heard you because he finally addresses you, his voice thick with lust. “So wet, lass. Is it fer me or was it fer him?” He pulled his mouth away from you and the absence of his touch was nothing short of agonizing, you could feel your release slipping from your grasp. “You Johnny! Please! I’m sorry! You were gone for so long with her and left me all by my-“

He pulled his fingers away from your clit, leaving you with nothing and you let out a frustrated huff as he looked up at you, his mouth glistening in the soft light of the room as his lips turned up in a smirk. “Lass, were you tryin’ tae make me jealous because you were jealous of Olivia?” Your brows furrowed in confusion. “What? No I-“

He stopped you with a hearty laugh and you scowled as you found your quickly fading release far from funny. “Why did ye nae just say that, hen? All this fuss jus’ cause ye thought ye’d have tae share me, aye?” You start to correct him but then his mouth falls over your clit and his fingers push as far into your pussy as the fabric will allow and you find you don’t give a fuck what he believes so long as he doesn’t stop.

He builds you back up in earnest, driving you steadily towards release and your moans are now a constant stream of sound flowing from your lips. His head is buried between your thighs as his fingers ravage your clit relentlessly. You’re right on the edge of your climax, so close to falling apart.

“Johnny! I’m close!” He pulls back, fingers slowing their maddening pace. “I need tae hear ye say it, hen. Tell me who ye belong tae.” He leans up and suckles gently at your clit, tongue sliding over it in lazy passes as you try to clear your fuzzy head. “You Johnny! I belong to you! Please! Please let me come!”

He hums into your soaked panties, pushing vibrations against your clit as his fingers probe as deep as the fabric will allow but it must not be enough for him because he peels them away from your body and pushes them to the side, groaning as he slowly pushes two thick fingers into your pussy, raking them in and out as his tongue snakes out and finds your bare clit, circling it with the tip of his tongue.

It’s all it takes to throw you into a hard orgasm, thighs clenching around his head as you ride out the bliss, hands white knuckling the table. He kept kneeled between your thighs, lapping up every drop of your arousal that leaked out and dragging you towards a second release. “Johnny stop! I can’t take it anymore!” You tried pushing his head away futilely, but he wouldn’t budge, drunk on you and determined to stay.

After a few more protests as he stuck his tongue all the way inside you before pulling out and lapping up the entirety of your poor abused slit he finally abated and pulled back, relenting. Your legs shook as he stood and helped you redress and you only got them to a wobble on the walk to the door.

He talked as you walked, all about the progress you’d made and the few refinements he had planned to make to your regimen but as you rounded the corner to the desk Olivia spotted the pair of you and ran up, interrupting him with a new barrage of questions and chatter. He answered her questions as simply as possible and kept trying to redirect the conversation back to you but she kept chiming in, clearly frustrated but not about to give up so easily.

You reached the desk and he turned away from her and addressed you directly. “Dinnae worry about yer homework, I know yer sore and I want ye rested and well fer our session tomorrow.” He leaned forward and whispered in your ear. “Dinnae worry about her either, I’m as much yours as ye are mine.” He bit your earlobe and tugged on it, earning a shiver from you and a scowl from Olivia.

He turned away from you and walked back towards a fuming Olivia. You came up to the kiosk and signed out when a brand new screen popped up where the “See you tomorrow!” screen normally prompted. It was a mini survey on your Baliquinox experience and a little notice at the end. Your two week free trial was up.

You looked back towards the main body of the gym where Johnny had just been but he was gone and with nothing else to do, you turned and exited the building, starting your walk home.

#cod #cod mw2 #john soap mactavish #call of duty #johnny soap mactavish #cod x reader #johnny soap mctavish x reader #cod soap #twdubcon #dark!johnny #darkfic

[darlingdarkly]

New Year, New You Part 9

Johnny MacTavish x f!reader

Personal Trainer AU

4.2 Words

CW: dubcon!, dark fic, dark content, obsessive behavior, dirty talk, explicit language, E rated, NSFW, smut, 18+, mature themes, gaslighting

Part: 1, 8

You awoke, not to the bray of your phone alarm that you’d carefully set before climbing into bed, but to the languid pass of Johnny’s tongue. Like gentle brush strokes they covered the canvas of your inner thighs, drawing ever upward towards the apex of your sex. It was a slow and gentle rise from the depths of slumber, much more pleasant than being violently torn from your deep sleep into the waking world like you’d grown begrudgingly accustomed to.

Your hands slid down from their warm beds and under the covers where they found soft purchase in the length of his Mohawk and skimmed down the shaved sides, fingers cutting through the buzz like snakes through grass. “Johnny.”

He spoke no words, communicating solely through different pitched hums against your skin that sent tingles up your spine, lighting your nerves and slowly setting them aflame. Now that he knew you were awake he tugged at the fabric of your panties on either side of your hips, pulling down one side before the other and marking each bit of freshly gained territory with a kiss like planting his flag to claim it as his.

You slowly open your eyes as he lifts your legs up and over his strong shoulders like tying a bib on before a particularly messy meal. “Johnny, I’ve got to go to work.” You say it even as you know the light letting in through the windows isn’t quite right, it’s much too dark to be eight thirty.

He doesn’t even bother acknowledging your poor excuses with a response. He’s built his breakfast, now he’ll eat and instead just leans forward and lets you feel the flat of his tongue as it slowly runs up your slit, from hole to clit and you can’t help the breathy moan that leaves you, the first of many you’ll sing to give rise to the sun.

He hums against your clit and your head falls back against the pillow, giving up and giving in. It must please him because he finally speaks, though it’s unclear if he’s addressing you or your pussy.

“Sweet little thing.” You don’t so much see as you feel him lean forward and wrap his lips around your clit, gently sucking as his fingers toy at your entrance, pushing just the pad of his finger in and feeling you clench around it, not quite succeeding at pulling it in.

Your hands push his head closer and you feel him smile against you as he takes your hint, one finger slipping in to just the knuckle as he laps up the juices that seep out around it. You moan his name, a slow soft plea that makes his cock twitch as it carries sweetly to his ears.

He works his finger in and out of you slowly, nothing about what he's doing is rushed or urgent, just content to ruin you as thoroughly as he can at his own pace. You arch a little, pushing yourself closer, chasing the sensation, but any movement in the opposite direction, like when he sucked hard on your clit and you tried to scoot back away from the intense sensation was futile. His arms held you steady, no budge, like some kind of giant living Chinese finger trap.

He pulled his finger out and pulled his tongue away from you long enough for you to catch your breath. You could hear him sucking on his finger under the sheets, followed by a moment of silence. He didn’t leave you waiting for long as you felt his tongue on your clit once again followed by an even greater stretch as he pushed two digits into you, drawing out your long high pitched moan with deep, dragging thrusts of his index and middle finger.

Your hands grasped and pulled at his Mohawk as his fingers hit your sweet spot and it only spurred him on as he worked to amplify all of your little noises until you were nearly shouting. He kept on like that, fine tuning his ministrations based on the intensity and pitch of your wails until with a final piercing cry you succumbed to the pleasure. You struggled in his grasp, shaking and pulling away from the last passes of his tongue as he cleaned you up and savored the taste.

You felt the grip of his hands on your hips cease before his head poked up out of the covers on top of you as he rose from the crook of your thighs, your first sight of him grinning and glistening in the pale morning light. He unceremoniously wiped the wetness from his chin and fell like a monolith onto the bed at your side.

He pulled you close, sweeping you into the nook by his side. Cuddled there warm and sated, the tempting embrace of sleep threatened to pull you under once more. His fingers carded through your hair gently and it was beyond you to fight it anymore. You fell willingly into the open arms of morning slumber. Fools gold in the way it draws you in, shining with promise but really only skin deep, its fragile surface easily marred at the faintest sound or shift of light.

Despite this, you awoke, seemingly much later, this time like you had initially expected to. You reached for your phone on the nightstand and rubbed your eyes as you silenced the alarm and checked the time. The room was bright but the bed beside you was cold. You suddenly realized you had no idea what his schedule looked like. His little early morning snack could have been his way of saying good morning and goodbye and you suddenly felt guilty you hadn’t spoken to him more, too lost in the haze to be considerate.

It wasn’t until you got out of bed and made your way towards the door that the smell became evident. You gently pulled the door just open enough to stick your head out and see him, his back was to you as he stood in front of the stove in his boxers and nothing else. You stood watching him as he flipped something in a pan, his shoulder blades flexing and shifting, the subtle movements in the back of his triceps ascended from spry flicks of his wrist.

You caught yourself ogling him and pulled back, gently shutting the door and grabbing your bag from its place just inside the closet. You stepped into the bathroom and began to strip, pulling off your nightclothes and turning on the stream. You stepped under and began to bathe as your mind drifted towards the day ahead, as much as you’d like to ruminate in the memories of the last twenty four hours you had a day of work ahead, the vacation was over.

But it soon became less about the work and more about seeing Nancy again. Of course she’d want to know what happened, probably had a story of her own to tell, at the very least you’d get a recount of the evening's events from her point of view. You wondered how helpful it’d be in figuring out who was behind your drugging and the theft of your ID, a long shot but maybe she saw something.

You were startled from your thoughts by Johnny’s voice beyond the shower. “Morning, lass. How’d ye sleep?” It never failed to surprise you just how quiet and sneaky he could be. “Ahh! Jesus Johnny, you scared me.”

He snickered and you saw him through the frosted glass pane of the shower door as he stepped fully into the room and up to it, the outline of him becoming clearer as he drew near til it was blurry but opaque.

“Didnae mean to scare ye, ah’m cookin’ breakfast but ye already ken, heard ye peek your head out tha’ door.”

Your eyes widen behind the glass. So he had heard you, you were almost certain you hadn’t made any noise, how attuned was he? You apologize, though you aren’t really sure why or for what.

“S’ok lass, ye were only curious. Though ah am a bit disappointed ye did nae come get me before ye jumped in fer a shower. Could’ave helped ye wash yer back.” You shiver at the implications, head suddenly filled with images of him and you naked, wet and entwined.

“Johnny-“

“Still could ye know. S’not too late tae make ye late fer work.”

Your hand drifts towards the door, you could. And you have half a mind to let him but then remember he’s cooking. “Johnny, but the food.”

When he speaks next his voice is thick and strained and it sounds like the last of his self control is the only thing standing between you and him, that and the thin, frosted pane of glass and you see his own hand drift towards it, ready to rid himself of the last physical blockade. “Donnae give ah fuck. Ah’ll let it burn, let tha’ whole place go up in flames just tae have ye again.”

Maybe it’s the candid quality of his words, complete honesty and lacking any kind of filter, he’d never been bashful before that’s for sure. But while you’d known him to say things just to rile you this felt different somehow, a genuineness that felt like he was itching for you to dare him but was completely prepared to make true on the promise. As crazy and irrational as the statement was, you believed him.

The words make an almost unbearable need puddle in your stomach and you have to actively seek the will to resist it. The only thing truly stopping you is the thought of facing a crew of burly firefighters in perhaps nothing more than a bath towel. You swallow thickly and then refuse him, promising to be out in a minute. He doesn’t say anything or move for a moment and you wonder if maybe he’s considering stepping in with you anyway. An executive decision you knew you’d find mighty hard to resist if made, you find yourself considering facing the firefighters stark naked if he’d be there beside you.

Before you can fully consider the possibilities he turns and leaves making you bite your lip and curse for cockblocking yourself. Frustrated and undeniably horny, the trancelike quality of the shower had dissipated and so you quickly washed off and stepped out. Toweling yourself dry before dressing up for work and going to meet him for breakfast.

When you entered the kitchen you were momentarily glad you’d turned down his offer as the smell of breakfast wafted to your nose but when he’d come back into the kitchen out of the tucked aside pantry and his hungry eyes met yours, you realized your little escapade this morning had been all you focused and you knew he had more on his mind than food.

You made a mental note to make it up to him later and sat down at the place he’d set for you. He sat across from you, grinning and gorgeous with his elbows propped up all improper on the counter. As you both dove into your meal he asked you about work and what you had planned for the day.

You told him while you probably weren’t swamped, you still no doubt had some catching up to do and you’d wanted to make some time, maybe have lunch again, with Nancy to talk to her about what had happened. He visibly paused at Nancy’s mention and it made you look up curiously. He looked, just for a brief second, deeply troubled. But then as soon as it’d dawned it disappeared like it never had been and he changed the subject to his work.

Going into detail about what he had planned at the gym. As you cleared your plate something he said made your ears prick up. “And I’ve got a new regimen in mind fer our next session. Ah’m gonna start havin’ ye do laps ‘round the pool at the gym, work on yer cardio in a different way an’ work some of those muscles ye jus’ cannae get tae any other way. Ye can swim, can’t ye lass?”

You set your fork down and looked across the counter at him. “Johnny, I can’t do that.”

He looked up from his plate for a moment, a smirk pulling at one corner of his mouth. “Ye cannae swim?”

You shook your head and furrowed your brows. “What? No. Yes, I can swim. I meant I can’t go back to the gym.. I can’t afford it.” You had to drop his gaze on the last sentence, so he really must’ve been asleep last night when you fessed up. You had expected nothing but maybe awkward silence to fill the space behind the confession, but he just laughed instead, making you regain eye contact as you looked up at him, curiously.

“Let me worry about that hen, I’ve got-“ You immediately cut him off. “No, Johnny. You’ve done enough, I can’t possibly ask you to do that on top of everything else.”

“Donnae worry, lass. I’ve already got it all sorted. Jus’ let Johnny handle it.” You gave him a wary look but he traded it with one firm and set, there was to be no more argument over the subject so you dropped it.

You both finish breakfast and you get up to start on dishes even though he protests, you insist upon contributing in some way and he heads into the bedroom to get dressed while you work. When he comes out he’s wearing black athletic shorts and a tight, form fitting blue tee. He looks good, real good and you curse yourself for the second time for not taking him up on his shower offer.

“Ready to go?” A good question but one that was rhetorical, it didn’t really matter, you had to go to work so you nodded and smiled as he ushered you towards the door. The ride to your office was short and sweet and when you pulled on the handle to let yourself out you found it locked. You turned towards Johnny to ask him to unlock it only to be pulled into a slow, soft kiss. It was gentle and un-urgent but melting in its intensity, he pulled away reluctantly and you realized you didn’t really want to get out of the truck, could have been just as content to let him pull away from the curb and call in sick two days in a row.

Instead you waited for him to unlock your door before stepping out onto the sidewalk and heading into the building. He waited for you to get into the elevator before pulling away and you wondered just how your life had managed to change so drastically in the last two days, hell the whole year had gone totally tits up in regards to the woman you’d been when you stepped out of the building following what should have been an ordinary Christmas party. It was like you’d slipped into someone else’s shoes, they were more like the shoes of a married woman instead of the chronically single one you’d been.

The elevator doors slid open and you walked casually to your cubicle as you always had, there were no raised heads, no hushed murmurs from your co-workers, Nancy wasn’t even at your desk like you had assumed she would be, but why would she have been? It’s not like this was the first time you’d called in sick after a disastrous night out. So you sat down and got to work and when lunch rolled around it was you who approached her and invited her out for a bite to eat.

It wasn’t until you’d been seated and your orders taken that you spilled the shorthand version of the events of the last twenty four hours to her, her eyes widening in response as your tale grew and grew in length and absurdity. When you were finished she gave her two cents.

“Oh my god. I am so sorry.” An apology hadn’t been what you were expecting and when she put her hands to her face and looked like the waterworks might start at any moment you reached a hand out to her and began to backpedal.

“Nancy, no. It’s ok. It’s not your fault!” But she was already shaking her head. “Of course it was! If I’d have been paying more attention, if I’d have been right there with you instead of preoccupied all night this never would have happened. I’m the one who convinced you to go out in the first place. Oh god, I feel so awful!”

“Nancy, please. Really, it's ok. You never could have known, and nothing bad happened to me. I’m fine, see?” You smiled at her to make your point as she wiped her eyes with her napkin. “So he found you outside? Thank god he just happened to be there, did he see anyone? Any shady guys around you?”

You shook your head no. “And they stole your wallet? Oh my god, what are you gonna do?”

“Well for the time being I’m staying with Johnny. I guess I’ll have to move out of my place, I don’t wanna have to constantly look over my shoulder all the time. I still have a half a year before the lease is up and in the meantime I’ll start looking for somewhere else to stay. I don’t know how I’m gonna afford it, but I’ll figure something out.”

Nancy reached across the table top and squeezed your hand. “I am so sorry.” You assured her it was alright and tried to lighten the mood by regaling her with your tale of yesterday, how the two of you had spent the day together and how nice it was, how courteous and attentive Johnny had been and the more you gushed the better you began to feel about the whole ordeal.

Nancy had cheered up by the end of the tale and you found yourself looking back over it fondly, even a bit in disbelief as you both regarded how lucky you had been that he’d turned up when he had. But with it all out you still had some questions. “Nancy, I need you to try and remember what happened last night. I can’t and I need to know if you saw anything out of the ordinary. Did I talk to anybody? Dance with anybody? I can’t remember a thing.”

She thought it over a minute but ultimately shook her head. She explained that you’d arrived, had a few shots together that she’d ordered, gone out on the floor to dance and then that’s where you’d met the twins. The mention of the twins rang a bell but nothing definitive came to the surface. She’d explained they’d come up to the pair of you on the dance floor and came onto both of you, you hadn’t been interested but she was rather taken by Ian, even exchanging numbers before she’d left the club that night. Then she went on to explain that it couldn’t possibly have been either of them as they’d been with her the whole rest of the night and your twin had been glued to some redhead he’d met by the bar.

You still couldn’t remember any of it but she offered to text Ian and see if he or Andrew remembered anything that could help. You declined, you doubted they’d seen anything anyway, especially if you’d turned down your twins advances like she said you had and moved onto another girl. It was probably a hopeless situation you’d never find the answers for. Your lunch break was over and you both headed back to the office to finish the day's work.

You spent the rest of it kind of doddling around at your desk, starting reports but leaving them half finished and thinking about your situation. Your watch pinged and you looked down to see a text from Johnny saying he’d be there to pick you up in five and realized the day was over. With a sigh of relief you began to shut your computer down for the evening and cleaning up your desk. You stepped out of the elevator minutes later and saw Johnny’s truck parked on the curb. He got out and opened the passenger door for you again, stopping you before you could climb in to wrap you up in his arms in a crushing bear hug, the strength of which there was no escape until he finally relented and released his hold, catching curious glances from some of your coworkers to your embarrassment.

You shuffled into the passenger seat and waited for him to climb in and pull away from the building before breathing out a sigh of relief. “How was yer day, bonnie?” You set your purse down at your feet.

“Un-productive. Both work and situation wise. He looked interested but not surprised. “Yeah? I’m sorry, hen. Nancy didnae see anythin’ then?”

You stared out the window and missed the long curious gaze he threw your way before averting his eyes back to the road, after a minute you spoke. “I don’t know what to do, Johnny. I don’t think I’ll ever truly know what happened to me that night and I don’t think I’ll ever know who did it. I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

His hand settled on your thigh and you turned away from the window to meet his gaze. “Dinnae worry, lass. I’ll keep ye safe, I swear it. Ye can stay with me as long as ye’d like, ye’ll never ever have tae go home again, I’ve already got it alllll figured out hen.”

And the way he says it, the total confidence in his voice has alarm bells ringing in the back of your brain. “Johnny, what are you talking about?”

“S’already taken care of. I’ve hired a few movers tae pack her stuff and bring it over tae my place tomorrow afternoon. Ye’ll never have tae set foot in yer apartment ever again.” Your eyes widen, he’d arranged to have all your stuff moved to his place? Without talking to you about it? At all?

“Johnny, what the fuck?!” He doesn’t even look the least bit stunned. “S’fine, lass. I ken ye couldnae jus’ leave all yer belongings behind, Ye’ll be all settled in in no time an’ there’s plenty of space fer ye tae put yer stuff where ever ye’d like. We’ll make a whole day of it, jus’ you an’ me. Donnae be fashed, hen. Johnny’s got it all taken care of. Ye wouldnae want tae let this guy see ye movin yer stuff out, he’d jus’ follow ye tae mah place and ken yer livin’ there an’ then he could follow us tae yer work an’ get ya while I’m nae there tae stop him. S’better this way.”

Before you can register any of it fully he’s pulling the truck off the road and coming to a stop. You look out the window and realize you’re not back at his place, you’re currently parked in front of the gym.

“Johnny, what are we doing?” He pulls your gym bag out of the backseat and sets it down on your lap. “I told ye I’d find a way tae get yer subscription reinstated an’ ah did. Come on.” For once he doesn’t open the door for you and you step out, gym bag in hand and follow him into the building. It looks the same, the lobby still packed with people coming and going. He has you go up to the kiosk to sign in while he walks further into the building for something.

You can hardly believe you’re back here, signing in and getting ready to work out again, you thought when you left that it’d be the last time. You type your info into the tablet but no matches come up. You double check the spelling of your name but it’s all there correctly, you figure they must have deleted your profile when your trial ran out and you’d have to make a new one. You were about to start the process when Johnny came back. “What are ye doin’ hen?”

“My names not in the system, they must’ve deleted my profile, I’m just gonna make a new one.”

“Wait, wait, wait. Lemme see tha’.” You hand him the little stylus and he checks back over your work before tapping a few buttons and typing something in. You lean over to see what he’s done.

“What’d you do?” He just flashes you a sly smile and explains. “Had tae change yer name tae get ye reinstated. Yer good tae go now, lass. Jus’ remember yer under this name when ye sign in from now on.”

You take a peek at the screen as it flashes the words you’ve seen a couple dozen times before, only this time slightly different.

“Thank you for signing in! We hope you have a very productive workout Mrs. MacTavish!”

You turn to look at Johnny but all he has for you is that same toothy grin, wolfish and sly. “Ready fer yer next session?”

#cod #call of duty #cod mw2 #cod x reader #john soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #johnny soap mctavish x reader #cod soap #twdubcon #dark!johnny #tw dark content #darkfic #personal trainer johnny #johnny soap mctavish x you

[darlingdarkly]

New Year, New You Part 4

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish x f!reader

Personal Trainer AU

4.9k words

CW: dubcon!, dark fic, dark content, obsessive behavior, dirty talk, explicit language, E rated, NSFW, smut, 18+, mature themes, Exhibitionism without any exhibition

Part: 1, 3, 5

It’s too late for things to change, you see that now. He’s taken it to the next level, one you couldn’t possibly have imagined. Time has passed and as it did the situation between you has progressed. You don’t make videos of your homework assignments anymore, Johnny oversees them. Your sessions, while they’re still structured and progressive towards your goals, the goals he’d set for you, they’re now spaced intermittently with chaste make out sessions.

You pushed your limits on your reps, doing fifteen of an exercise instead of ten? Make out session. You stretched just a bit further, legs nearly full split? His lips crash to yours in bruising haste. You ran a full twenty minutes with no rest? His tongue is in your mouth, exploring the depths of it, using the advantage of your jelly legs to push you how he wants you. You can see what he’s doing, you’re not blind.

He’s Pavlovian in his tactics, positive reinforcement, emphasis on the force, but it's working. You find yourself pushing your limits, just to feel the push of his lips. Driving yourself farther, faster, better so he’ll drive you up against the wall.

It’s debilitating, the intensity of his kisses. They have a certain dizzying quality that makes it hard to resist or think or even breathe really. What you haven’t done is fuck, and that’s not for a lack of trying. Johnny has, on multiple occasions, initiated but you kept finding ways out.

Several occasions he’s pushed a hand down your sweats, fingers rubbing against your clit in heated circles. Brazenly out in the middle of the gym he’ll pull you back against him, to the outward eye it appears he’s just correcting your form but in reality all he’s really doing is rubbing his hard cock against the back of your thighs, enticingly. It’s a promise, a tease to your ruination. He’s hungry, had one taste of seeing you fall apart and now he’s on a warpath to make it happen around his cock.

But you’re stalling, nothing, besides heated kisses and frenzied groping has happened since your FaceTime encounter and you can feel Johnny growing impatient. It’s been a week since you walked into Baliquinox for the first time and you think it’d be like any other session but when you come in Johnny has a small gift bag in his hand and waves you over excitedly.

You sit down at your usual table with him and he pushes the bag across the tabletop towards you, giddy with excitement like the gifts for him even though you’re the one opening it. You pull away the tissue paper to reveal a small box, you pull it out and immediately recognize it, ads have been popping up on your Spotify for months for the FitBit luxe. It’s gold and gorgeous but also pricey, you know because you looked at them before Christmas as a present for your mom.

The one he’d gifted you is literally the newest, most expensive model, with a regular pink wristband and interchangeable soft gold chain to dress it up. You stare at the watch as he begins to explain its features. He tells you it tracks your vitals, sleep patterns and exercises. It counts your steps, monitors your breathing and stress levels, it’s also waterproof and has a five day battery, on top of that you can get your call and text notifications through it, it’s GPS enabled to track your miles, pacing and the route you took on your walk or run, the damn thing can even track your menstrual cycles for you.

“Oh gosh, Johnny. I don’t know what to say.” He reaches across the small table and takes the box from your hands, opening it and pulling the watch out, the gold chain already attached. “Dinnae have tae, just put it on.” So you do, holding your wrist out while he attaches the high tech jewelry to your arm, You push the button on the side and the little screen lights up, your name flashes across the screen in a beautiful gold scroll before the sensors against your skin already begin picking up on your heartbeat and breathing rate.

Johnny must have programmed it before giving it to you. You thank him, a bit bashful at the expensive gift and let him kiss you when he comes around the table to grab the empty gift bag and box from you. It’s slow but passionate and he chuckles as he pulls away and your new watch beeps, indicating the upward tick in your bpm.

He ushers you away towards the women’s locker room to change and you can’t help but admire the new weight on your wrist, it’s certainly beautiful. You’re pretty sure you read that they are supposed to be paired with a phone, you’ll have to figure it out later. You quickly change and head into the gym, finding Johnny by the machines.

He pulls you over to the mats to start your warmups and stretches. You’ve made progress since you’ve started, your warmups you now have down to a tee and your stretches nearing a full split without whines or whimpers. When it’s time for your first exercise he guided you to the pull up bar, something you haven’t tried yet.

You stand to the side and watch as he demonstrates. Jumping up to catch the bar and pulling himself up until his chin is over the top of it. He drops and repeats, arms flexing as he effortlessly completes rep after rep. His shirt keeps riding up his body with each lift, exposing the flat, toned expanse of his stomach, there’s a dark trail of sparse hair leading down into his shorts, but you remember where it goes from there, growing thicker as it wraps around the base of his cock. You find yourself thinking about it, that night, you’ve been thinking about it a lot actually, every time you pull your vibrator out of the drawer you come to the thought of him watching you. Those baby blues roaming your body, hungry.

You’re pulled from your erotic daydreams by the beep of your watch and Johnny lets go of the bar, standing before you with a sly smirk. “See something ye like, bonnie?” Stupid watch. How were you ever going to get through today with it going off every five minutes and giving you away? He pulled you unnecessarily close to press a few buttons on the gadget and turned it on to activity mode so it’d stop doing that every time it spiked, but not before it sounded off once more with the effect he was having on your body at this proximity.

“Yer turn.” You walk in front of the pull up bar and spin around, facing him. His eyes hold yours as you jump and grab hold of the bar with both hands, dangling from it. He walks forward and his hands brush the exposed skin of your hips and it makes you shudder. “Good, now up.” You lift, the first half is easy but the last four or five inches to get your chin over the bar are the worst.

It doesn’t help he’s so close, never having backed up and you realize his mouth is level with your pussy at the moment. You come down from your first rep and are ready to let go but you know you can’t do just one. “Come on, lass. Again.” You do as he says, lifting your body weight with nothing more than the strength of your arms.

Those last few inches are a strain and you’re not sure you’ll make it, arms quivering as you pull your chin up over it again, your arms go numb and you bring yourself back down but you know you’ve got one more. He can see you’re struggling though and wraps his arms around the backs of your thighs.

“Last one hen.” You lift and you can feel his hands push up on the globes of your ass, gently assisting you. It helps but also doesn’t make it any easier as your whole body shakes with the effort of those last few inches. You’re stuck at mouth level, that last inch it takes to get your chin over the bar looks impossible but then you feel his mouth on the exposed skin of your stomach, kissing you right over your waistline, the soft curve of his lips caressing you ever so lightly and the jolt it gives you pushes you over the top and he allows you to drop, singing praises and pulling your limp body against his.

“So good fer me, bonnie. Ye did so good.” He lifts your chin from his chest and kisses you, his mouth swallowing yours and instead of just basking in it, letting him damn near consume you like usual you kiss back, matching his pace and pushing your tongue in his mouth for a change. He growls and it’s a rumble you can feel as well as hear, a rockslide in his chest. When you pull away his eyes are deadly serious and that little voice in the back of your head is screaming at you that it’s dangerous, like eyeing up a predator but something else in you is failing to care.

You’ve had about enough of this little game. The back and forth, the teasing touches, the soaked panties. You don’t avert your gaze and his head tilts just slightly, challenging. It’s visceral and exhilarating this line you can see drawn in the sand before you as you anticipate the crossing of it. You reach forward with bold, calmness and glide your hand along the imprint of his cock, teasingly fondling the length.

You had meant to just tease him back a little, give him a taste of his own medicine for once but the effects were more drastic than you’d anticipated and the reaction was immediate. It’s the first time you’ve ever shown him any kind of sexual initiative and it’s all it takes. Suddenly he’s dragging you through the gym with urgency. You think you know where he’s going until he makes a detour, hauling you down the hall and into one of the big glass rooms where classes took place that was currently empty.

You watched as he picked the tablet up from its place by the door. He made a few successive taps on the screen and you watched as the glass took on a dim sheer, graying over slightly. The expanse of the hallway was still visible to you but you knew, just as you had seen walking into the gym for the first time that if you were to walk outside you’d see nothing through the glass but opaque grayness.

You had just a moment to marvel at this before he was on you, your face pressed up against the cool surface, hands caught by his behind your back, ass pressed into the seat of his crotch, you could feel something hard there, poking you. He spoke just behind you, the heat of his breath puffing at the shell of your ear.

“Yer playing a dangerous game, hen.” It sends a shiver down your spine, the threat and its delivery, but it fails to unnerve you. You’ve made your bed and are more than ready to lie in it, there’s just one more thing holding you back.

“I want you to tell me something Johnny.” And you can tell he’s growing impatient by the intensity of his thrusts against your ass and thighs, rutting into you through your clothes.

“Ah’ll tell ye the last four of mah NINO if ye want. Anything, jus’ name it.” There’s a moment of anxious hesitation on your part, unsure of where things will go depending on his response, or even if you want to know what he’s going to say in the first place, but you didn’t come this far to chicken out now.

“Why did you pick me out? Why did you choose me?” And he must approve of the question because he chuckles darkly in your ear, moving your body back from the glass to begin stripping you as he answers.

“Ye wanna ken why I singled ye out, hmm? Why I chose ye?” He’s pulled your shirt off and he’s working at the hem of your sports bra, freeing your breasts to the cool air, your mind freezes, your first instinct is to cover yourself, there’s people walking up and down the hallway constantly. Strolling right by as you stand half naked with nothing but an inch of glass and a special electronic filter to shield you from sight.

It shouldn’t make you this wet, being stark naked in front of strangers, strangers who you know can’t see you but you can see them, commuting through the gym like normal while you’re bare and on sinful display behind the glass, but it does. He’s working at your sweats, pulling them down your legs, stooping down as he does to kiss your skin as it’s freshly exposed.

Between kisses he answers. “At first it was just attraction, when ye looked up into me eyes while ye were jogging. I felt something, this urge, I had to have ye. Then after yer exam ye dinnae run away or complain, jus’ did as I asked an’ took everything I gave ye like a good lass.”

He’s tugging at your panties now, stopping long enough to groan and bite into one of your ass cheeks, making you squeal and instinctively push forward into the glass. Your bare tits and thighs smush obscenely against the cool surface, nipples beginning to pebble from the cold as he moves forward to keep you pressed there. One hand coming around to secure itself around your throat like a collar, the other kneading at the flesh of your ass, pulling it apart and releasing it to enjoy the jiggle.

“I dinnae ken if ye’d even come in the next day, but there ye were, and I ken right then that ye were mine. Everything from there jus’ solidified it. The way ye answered all mah questions, even if ye tried to cover it up by complainin’ about bein’ spoke tae that way. When I broke into yer house and ye dinnae call the police, jus’ called me tae yell at me then came all nice and pretty for me while I watched.”

You were filled with mixed emotions. Shock, shame, growing horror, but most of all, overtaking the rest was arousal, pure lust. You sucked in a breath as his fingers dipped down, stark naked as you were, it’s all it took to feel the evidence of it as it coated your thighs. He pulls his fingers out, wet with your juices and licks them clean right behind your ear. “Even now I’ve got ye stripped naked and absolutely soaked, and ah’m still fully dressed.”

He’s right, there’s no way to hide or deny it. “Yer just as dirty an’ fucked up as I am, aren’t ye hen?” He slides a finger past your lips, breaching you and you can’t help the moan that spills out, eyes closing in self indulgence, the pleasure staining your self conscious inhibitions, muddling them. He gets closer, harsh and gruff in your ear, demanding an answer. “Aren’t ye?” You whine out a yes that sounds pathetic even to your own ears.

He pulls the digit out and the warmth of his chest disappears from your back, making your eyes blink open and needy whimpers escape your lips. “Dinnae whine, greedy thing.” He presses back up against you, the hard length of him slotted between your thighs, you feel him for just a moment, rubbing the tip up and down your soaked slit before he’s pushing in, full length buried deep in one brutish thrust.

It has your back arching, head falling back against his shoulder as your mouth drops open and a hearty low moan flies from your throat like an uncaged bird. He rubs soothing circles into your hips as he gives you time to adjust. When your head dips forward he begins, sawing in and out of you slowly at first, making you groan with each fully sheathed thrust.

“Johnny, please.” He leans forward and nips at the skin of your nape, assaulting your neck and ear with his lips and teeth as he picks up the pace, giving you what you asked for. It feels euphoric, the full stretch of his cock and it puts all the thoughts you’ve had of him, the erotic daydreams, the nights spent touching yourself to the thoughts of what it’d be like to shame.

He’s attentive and sensual, listening intently for which of his movements drive you wild. Your head dips forward and you close your eyes but he’s not having it, gripping you beneath the chin and forcing your head up, eyes opening as he growls in your ear from behind. “Look at them, hen. Can ye imagine what’d they think if they could see ye right now? See this body, beautiful and bare like I can.” His arm slips down and around the back of your thigh, grabbing purchase in the pit of your knee and lifting, your leg comes up, hiked up level to your hip and he holds it there while he fucks into you from behind. You’re pleasantly surprised at the ease in which you can maneuver this way, those stretches finally paying off, almost like it was planned from the start.

The new angle makes him able to slide devastatingly deep, your body jolting with each thrust, moans quickly filling the room, yours and his. You remember seeing the people dancing, their bodies in sync to the music you could feel in your feet but was inaudible to you from outside and was suddenly glad for it as he pulled all the way out before thrusting back in with the snap of his hips and you let out a startled and involuntary noise that was half moan, half scream.

“Sound so good like this, panting an’ moaning like a bitch in heat fer me. Squeezin’ me so tight, does it feel good lass? Better than yer fingers?” You’re beyond words at the moment so you just give him a frenzied nod, head leaning forward to rest on the glass as he lays waste to your cognitive ability. But then he stops moving and it all comes back, although the only thing you can articulate at the moment is whines of his name and pathetic pleas for him to keep going.

“Asked ye a question, lass.” Your mind reels and you start babbling, a series of yeses and broken sentences, anything to get him to start again. His hand snakes up and laces his fingers between yours, as the other keeps a firm grip on your knee, spreading you nice and wide for him.

He picks up a breakneck pace, hips stuttering into yours violently as you just try to hang in there, you can feel it, your orgasm building rapidly. He can feel it too, the way your pussy clenches down around him as you beg him not to stop. “Are ye close, bonnie? Gonna fall apart all over mah cock?” You don’t dare leave him waiting, chanting out affirmations like prayers falling from your lips, if he stopped now you may have a meltdown.

“Do it fer me, hen. Let me feel ye come fer me.” You’re thrown over the edge, whole body tense as he drives you through, quite possibly, the most violent orgasm of your life. Your legs shake in his hold, eyes squeezed shut and head thrown back over his shoulder as you all but collapse against him. He holds you up and doesn’t stop, pushing you through it and out the other side into overstimulation.

Your constant moans just spur him on, he can feel his own release building slowly. “What’s my rule on sets, hen?” Your fuzzy brain is having trouble grasping his question, or even the relevancy of it, until it dawns on you and he must feel you stiffen as the implication of it sets in. “Aye that’s right. Tell me.”

You answer in a quiet whisper but he lets it slide. “Sets of three, always.” He drops your leg and the combination of the blood rushing back in, tingling like static and the continued drag of his cock is mind numbing. “Aye, good girl. Sets of three. One down, two tae go.”

His hands come down to grip your hips, pulling you back into each thrust with force. You brace yourself against the glass, the side of your face and both palms of your hands pushed up against it as he ruts into you without mercy or ceremony.

You watch as a set of women pass by the room, their eyes seem to pass right over you without seeing and they stop momentarily in front of the glass for one to share something on their phone with the group, their eyes all widen and they mime a fit of giggles and continue on, unaware of your ruination inches away.

He grabs a fistful of your hair and lightly tugs, pulling your face back from the glass, at this new angle your nipples make brief contact with the glass on every inward push and it drives you ever closer to careening off the edge for a second time. “Johnny! I’m- ah! I’m fucking close! Fuck!” He keeps thrusting into you until you squeeze him for dear life a second time, only then does he pick up the pace, relishing in the way he can alter the pitch of your moans by the little variations in his thrusts.

You’re fucked out, lost to bliss and delirium as you come down from your second orgasm. You can’t possibly see how he could pull another from you until he leans forward, hand sliding down your body until his fingers find your clit and your body involuntarily jerks from the touch, but he just reaches out again and finds it, muscling you into place so you can’t buck away.

“You know the rules lass, one more.” You shake your head and sob. “I can’t Johnny! S’too much!” He’s enjoying the slurred nature of your speech, the pleading tone of your protests, he’s going to come soon, he can feel it. “Ye can and ye will. I’ll make ye. Be a good lass and take it.”

He rubs your clit in frenzied circles and it’s almost painful the sensation, your sensitive nerves too overworked to handle it so your hands come down to grab at his wrist, anything to stop the motions, else you’re apt to lose your mind.

He’s ready for that though, pulling one hand away from the apex of your thighs and securing it behind your back in an iron grip, the other he traps beneath his hand, making you rub circles into your own clit as he guides you.

It threatens to make your knees buckle underneath you as he holds you up and stretches you open simultaneously. He whispers filth into your ear as your eyes roll back and you teeter on the edge of sexually induced lunacy. “Did ye get more than ye bargained fer, hen? Poor thing. All fucked out an’ creamin’ all over mah cock? Yer gonna do it again, lass. One more fer me and I’ll let ye rest, aye? Be a good lass an’ come again.”

He pushes you over the edge for the third time and your whole body shakes, convulsing around him as you lose the battle against your pleasure and ultimately succumb to it. He feels his own orgasm closing in and holds it off for just a bit longer while you recover, keeping even steady strokes while your pussy squeezes around him through your aftershocks. When your eyes reopen and your breathing levels in one fluid motion he pulls out of you, spins you around and forces you to the floor.

You open your mouth to speak but he’s stuffing his cock down your throat before you can utter even a word. Your head backs into the glass and he uses your mouth like a pocket pussy, hands bracing on your head as he thrusts into your open throat a few erratic times, his balls sticky from your cum tapping against your chin as he reaches his peak. Loud guttural roars echo off the walls and ring in your ears as he comes down the back of your throat hard and fast.

He pulls out and a string of your saliva connects your puffy bottom lip to his tip for the briefest of moments before snapping. He’s staring down at you, chest heaving from the exertion of his climax with the slyest smirk on his face and a twinkle of satisfaction in his bright blue eyes.

He stoops down to your level, face to face when he speaks next, slightly hoarse. “Did ye swallow?” He asks as if you had much of a choice coming down the back of your throat like he did but before you can even answer he’s pulling down on your bottom jaw with his thumb. Your mouth falls open, tongue lolling out as he tilts your head from side to side and groans. A wave of panic surges through you as he leans in and kisses you passionately, tongue invading the space of your mouth as he tastes his cum off your lips. His hands cup your face as you begin to worry he’s gearing up for a second round.

He must feel you tensing under his touch because he pulls away and smooths your hair as he calms you. “Dinnae worry hen, just three fer today. We’ll stretch yer limits another time.” The promise of more makes you shudder and he helps you up off the floor to clean you up and help you redress, it’s hard because your limbs seem to refuse to cooperate as your mind commands them to, too shaky and loose to comply.

When you’ve dressed and regain your ability to walk he ushers you down the short hallway and into a seat in the smoothie alcove where he walks up to the counter, once more skipping the long line and orders you a smoothie, but not without mentioning you’ve just been through a very intense session and need it immediately, to your embarrassed dismay.

He walks back over to the table, drink in hand and sits across from you, smug as can be as you take it from him and drink. Moaning quietly as the cool drink slides down your sore throat. “Good?” He asks. And you non verbally nod to signify your content, still untrusting of your ability to articulate as of yet. “Good.”

You’re not sure where things will go from here, a secret part of you that speaks from deep in the back of your mind, where your true subconscious desires reside is scared that now that he’s had you he will be done with you. You push that thought back down into the murk of your subconscious, it doesn’t help and all of the context clues suggest it’s not true but that doesn’t stop it from bubbling to the surface.

It also doesn’t help when he tells you not to worry about your homework tonight. You sit, a bit dejected in your seat and try not to let disappointment seep into your tone. “Oh, ok.” And failing. He seems to pick up on it and leans forward and settles a hand overtop yours from across the table. It’s warm, and the touch of his skin is something you won’t admit that you really needed at that moment.

“Jus’ dinnae want ye sore, bonnie. Ye can still call me tonight if ye’d like.” You nod in agreement and after you’d finished your drink, you got up, grabbed your things from the locker room and left.

Johnny watched from his phone as you made the trip home, watching the blip on the map making various stops and turns until it reached your address. He got home and monitored it all through the night as you cooked, took your shower, caved and made your call to him and then hung up to go to bed.

He watched as your bpms slowly rose and spiked as you climaxed for the fourth time that day, reliving the day's events in vivid memory and wished it was his hands rubbing circles against your clit and playing with hard nipples until you saw stars. He continued to watch as your respiration levels evened out and the app indicated you’d started your sleep cycle.

In the morning he read your sleep logistics, learning you reached rem sleep, dreamt and even woke up twice in the night to pee. He picked it up in between reps during his workout and watched your stress levels while you were at work, the early morning rush had you on edge, you chilled as lunch time came around and then spiked again right after until it came close to quitting time and you relaxed as soon as you’d clocked off.

He sat in the smoothie alcove and watched your little blip get closer and closer until you were right outside. You turned into the building and he looked up to see you crossing the lobby towards the check-in desk, returning your pleasant smile and wave as he locked his phone and put it away so you could begin your next session.

#call of duty #cod mw2 #cod #john soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #johnny soap mctavish x reader #cod soap #cod x reader #dark!johnny #twdubcon #soap x reader #dark fic

[darlingdarkly]

New Year, New You Part 3

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish x f!reader

Personal Trainer AU

4.7k Words

CW: dubcon!, dark fic, dark content, obsessive behavior, dirty talk, explicit language, E rated, NSFW, smut, 18+, mature themes

Part 2, 4

The next day is what you can only describe as controlled chaos. The office is a whirlwind of papers, people and pieces of presentation sent to and fro across the building. Maureen in marketing needs approval from Mark in finance who’s busy balancing the budget for this year and the spreadsheets from last year. Sharon has been on the phone for Three. Whole. Hours. trying to make sure the prototypes will be ready before noon tomorrow.

Tom called in sick and Mrs. Magna told Nancy to tell him that if he doesn’t show up today to never show up again. Period. That was ensued by a thirty minute yelling match between Nancy and Tom that ended when you gently took the phone from Nancy’s white-knuckle grip and told Tom if he didn’t come in you’d personally shove your foot up his ass.

Tom was in the office fifteen minutes later, quarantined in the conference room with his laptop, a growing mountain of crumbled Kleenex and very, very, grumpy. The day dragged on and on and while people who had finished with their portion of the project headed home for the day you stayed, even after your piece of the pie was secure, because at the end of it all you knew it fell to Nancy to review and review and review the final product for any mistakes and you weren’t about to let her do it alone.

As you worked, you caught up with each other, not having time to really talk since the white elephant party over a week ago. “So how was break?” You asked as you filed away two early projection models in their appropriate folders. She sat cross legged in front of you, stapling documents together. “It was nice, mom came this year, and I thought it would be a lot more barbaric but it actually was very civil. I'm proud of them for working out their differences. The way it went down last year I was still cleaning fruit cake off my ceiling a month later, remember?”

You giggled together because you did remember. That was Nancy’s Christmas reunion debacle from the previous year. You hadn’t been there but you did drop by to help her clean up and have a little wine. A bottle and a half in you both were too drunk and giggly to climb the ladder and scrap the candied fruit and cake from the ceiling.

“What about you? Did you go see your parents?” You smiled and answered. “Yeah they’re doing good, they said to tell you hello by the way. My brother too.” And the side eye she gave you was hilarious and aggravated all in one. “What? He still asks about you.” She rolled her eyes and restacked the papers in her hands. “Well he can stop.” You laughed as she shook her head. “He’s still got a crush on me after all this time.”

“Yes! He’s obsessed! I don’t know why you won’t go for him, it’s not like you’re seeing anyone anyways.” She scoffed at you. “I am not dating your brother. Not after what he did.” You rolled your eyes playfully. “Nance, you can’t still be on that.” She looked offended. “After we both nearly drowned at the lake that summer. You remember, he practically pulled me under!”

You laughed remembering. “He was trying to save you!” She laughed with you and pushed on your arm. “Yeah well he sucked at it. We both nearly died.” You both were in fits of giggles at this point, papers nearly forgotten in the glow of your memories. “Besides, how do you know I’m not seeing anyone?”

Your eyebrows raised at this. “Ohhh, something to confess?” She looked up from her work, eyes sparkling. “You know the guy that moved in across the hall?” You did. You both had run into him one day coming back to her place for a drink after a Saturday outing together. “You mean Mr. Dark Eyes, the one who came over and fixed your window for you?”

She practically beamed. “That’s the one. He asked me out for drinks tomorrow night.” You waggled your eyebrows at her and she laughed and rolled her eyes. “It’s not like that. He’s just being nice.” It was your turn to give her an accusatory look. “It’s absolutely like that Nancy! He’s into you. I can see it! I think you should go for it, I’m glad for you, it’s time you got a little action.”

She picked up the stack she’d finished stapling and set it to the side, beginning another. “You and I both. I mean it’s not like you’ve been seeing anyone either.” You paused, thinking of Johnny. You wouldn’t call it seeing someone, but there was something between the two of you, it was momentary, your lapse in response but enough for her to notice and immediately catch on.

“Oh my god, wait. You have been seeing someone haven’t you?” You immediately refuse. “No.” “Bullshit.” “Seriously! It’s nothing.” And she wouldn’t stop until she’d pried it out of you so you began recounting your encounter at the gym, leaving nothing out.

“You’re fucking with me.” You shake your head. “No, I’m serious. Just like I told you.” She put a hand over her mouth to hide her smile. “He legit did all that?” You nodded and she smiled. “I think you should go for it.” Your jaw dropped. “You’re serious?” She nodded. “Oh yeah, he’s totally into you. All that weird shit just means he’s obsessed. Is he hot?”

You immediately nodded. “Oh yeah, he’s strong and tan. He’s got this pretty white smile and dark hair. I knew he was a personal trainer the minute I saw him.” She hummed approval. “Definitely go for it.” You laughed nervously. “I don’t know, we'll see where it goes.”

The sun had long descended past the horizon, but you had it done. Two hundred and fifteen pages of statistics and sales projections that concluded the project. You both cleaned up the papers and put everything away. She turned to you when the elevator had stopped at the ground floor and the cold night air chilled you as the doors opened. “Wanna go out for a drink, I know I sure could use one.”

You shook your head. “I’m beat, I’m going home, eating and sliding into bed.” She nodded in understanding. “Don’t forget your homework.” She winked at you mischievously and giggled as you let out a frustrated groan. “I’m thinking about skipping it.” She shook her head. “Better not, with what you’ve told me so far it seems like there’d be consequences.” And she was right, who knew what kind of thing he’d cook up if you slacked out on it. You said your goodbyes and headed home.

You find yourself in front of your door, mentally exhausted. You slide the key in the lock and feel it give as you push the door open and walk into the cool interior of your home. Flipping the lights on you drop your purse and jacket on the couch and head for the kitchen. It’s been a long day and you hadn’t even had a chance to go grocery shopping this week but you’re pretty sure you at least had a couple of eggs left in the fridge.

If all you could manage was a few scrambled eggs before you did your homework and fell into bed then so be it. You’d eat better tomorrow. You open the door on the fridge and are immediately taken aback by what you see. It’s fully stocked. There’s a whole pack of water bottles on the bottom shelf of your fridge. The chiller drawer is packed with spinach, sweet peppers, broccoli and carrots. There’s deli meat and boneless skinless chicken breasts, a few types of cheese and a new gallon of milk. Individual packs of yogurt and gatorades in all different flavors.

You open the door on your freezer to find a few more frozen packs of chicken breasts, pounds of lean hamburger meat and sausage. Rushing to the cabinets you pull them open and find low carb tortilla wraps and bread, granola bars and some kind of chips called “Veggie Straws” that you’ve always seen on the shelf but never tried.

As you turn around you finally notice the bowl of fruit on your counter. How could you have overlooked it walking in? Bananas and apples and oranges, all ripe and fresh. You didn’t do this. Either you were losing your mind and key moments in your life we’re missing like puzzle pieces lost or someone had been in your house.

Your eyes widen, breath hitched. They could still be in the house. You turn around and survey the space around you, the dark comforting tone had a queer eerie feeling setting in around the edges. The corners and shadows leering with the unknown. Nothing looked out of place or was missing, but what kind of a person came into a home to stock the fridge and leave without taking anything?

You checked the doors, the windows, no broken locks or pried open hinges, no immediate signs of forced entry. Your shoulders stiffened when the realization hits you, it takes your overworked mind a moment to remember but there it was. Your gym bag, you were nearly certain you had closed it but it was open when you opened your locker to change. Johnny.

You grabbed your purse and pulled your phone out, flicking through your contacts and hovering over his name. You momentarily waver between calling him or the police. What were you going to say? Yes officer, my home has been broken into. Did they take anything? Well, no. The opposite really. What did they leave? Groceries. Lots of them, stocked my whole kitchen with fresh meats, veggies and fruit. Yeah, we’ll get right on catching the ever elusive grocery fairy, ma’am. Top priority, don't you worry.

You started the call and he answered on the second ring, tone light and cheery with enthusiasm. “Bonnie! How was work?” You skip the pleasantries. “Do you have something to tell me, Johnny?” And you don’t know why you expected him to take the matter seriously.

“Aye lass, I did think about ye all day, sometimes with mah cock in hand, how’d ye know?” His response momentarily scatters your thoughts to the wind but you take hold of them once more and push on. “What? No! Johnny, have you been in my house?” He laughs, actually laughs. “Oh that. Yeah, did you check the fridge?”

Your brow furrowed in frustration, of course he doesn’t see it as an intrusion instead of some kind of regular thing. “Johnny, how did you get into my house?” You sit down in a chair and what he says makes you bolt upright again. “Easy, hen. I just made a key.” You’re pacing now. “You made a key to my house! How?”

And he says it casually like he’s explaining how to tie a shoe or giving someone easy directions. “I went into yer bag, found yer keys, pressed it into a mold and had one made. Simple really.”

“You can’t do that Johnny.” He interrupts. “S’alright Bonnie, I’m yer personal trainer.” There it is again. That phrase, like it’s the simplest thing to understand in the world, normal even. He’d picked you out, told you he was going to train you, you didn’t exactly protest and now anything was fair game, including crossing every single kind of boundary you could have and making copies of the keys to your home so he can come and go as he pleases.

“Besides, yer fridge was empty. What were ye gonna have fer dinner?”

“None of your business. And what if I don’t know how to cook? Did you think about that Johnny?” And this seems to be the first real thing to give him pause. “Yer right, lass. I didn’t even think about that. I’m about five minutes away, I’ll be right over.” Your eyes widen in panic. “No Johnny! Don’t come over!”

“S’alright lass, it’s really no trouble. I’ll be right there.” The last thing you needed was him showing up at the door. “No! Johnny I’m serious, don’t.”

He’s quiet for a moment and it feels long, you almost expect a knock at the door, even though he couldn’t possibly be there that fast, unless of course he was lying about being five minutes away and was actually right outside the whole time, or even in the house still.

“Alright. I won’t come over on one condition.” You grab for it, ready to agree to anything that will keep him from showing up. “Yes, anything.”

“I want ye tae FaceTime me while ye do yer homework.” And you’re almost relieved with the simplicity of it, but there was an underlying unease that you couldn’t shake, what was he up to? You answer slowly when you can’t come up with a good reason to say no. “Ok, I’ll call you back.”

But before you can hang up he interjects. “No. Don’t hang up, talk to me.”

“Talk to you? About what Johnny?” You start to look around the kitchen for what you’re gonna have, if he’s making you talk to him the whole way through it then it’s better to get started now. “For starters, How yer day was.”

It starts slow, your relinquishing of the accounts of the day, but as time went on and you kept talking it all just came to the surface. The stress of the day, the brutal meticulousness of it, and he made it so easy, he was so attentive, listening and responding, asking questions and letting you vent it. He even laughed so hard when you told him about threatening Tom that you couldn’t help but laugh with him, bent over in front of the stove as you let the stress bleed out of you.

It felt good, right even, like something you'd been missing out on, a key component you hadn't realized you’d been without for so long. And you found a peculiar twinge of adoration for him in the bottom of your heart, like tea leaves spelling out your heart's true desires, whether you like what you read in them or not, there they were.

You sat down to eat and he told you about his day as you ate. It was much more appetizing than a plate of scrambled eggs, you had to admit. You nearly choke on a cherry tomato when he tells you he missed you. “It’s only been a day since you last saw me Johnny, you can’t miss me.” And is there longing in his voice, or just your tired mind playing tricks again? “Aye, but I did.”

There’s a momentary pause, a space of uninterrupted silence, pregnant with things unsaid. You finally break it. “Well, I’ve got dishes and then I’ll do my homework.” What he says next makes you smile, and you’re glad he’s not able to see it. “How will I know ye’ll call me back?”

“Don’t be stupid, I’ll call you. If not, you'll be pounding at my door, won’t you?” You can hear the smile in his response. “Better believe it, lass. Call me.” And he hangs up.

You quickly finish up your dishes, change into something comfortable, just a tank top and shorts, and prop your phone up. Pressing the call button on Johnny’s name in the contact list you see the screen go black as you wait for him to pick up. Your image is reflected back at you in a little square in the top right of the screen and you use the time to adjust your hair and pull the hem of your shorts down lower to cover more of your thighs.

His face pops into frame and he’s smiling ear to ear and you ignore the eruption of goosebumps on your arms when you see it. “Hi, lass” You back away from the screen and into the open space you’ve made in your living room to do your exercises. “Hi Johnny.”

“God yer beautiful.” And you feel your cheeks heating under his compliment. “Stop it, Johnny. Let’s crack on.” You see him sit back on his bed as he responds. “Alright lass. Start.” So you do, starting with the sit ups. You don’t have him there to hold your feet so you slide them under the couch to hold you steady as you do the exercise. He talks you through it, counting for you so you can focus on just your movements, keeping track of your pauses in between sets so they’re evenly spaced and consistent.

“Good lass, now yer toe touches.” You rise and face the camera, bending down with legs straight as your fingertips brush your toes. “Good, just like that.” And each line of praise is like a shot of vodka, a shock of ambrosia to your system, intoxicating. You know he’s looking down your shirt with each rep, but it’s a thrill you find exhilarating instead of embarrassing for once. Halfway through he has you turn around so he can make sure you’re not dipping at the knees.

You do the first one and he groans, quiet but you still catch it. You call over your shoulder and ask if he’s ok and he clears his throat, voice full of audible gravel even in his one word response. “Aye.” You finish and all that’s left is your lunges and stretches. You bend your knees and step into the first lunge, one leg at a time til you reach your goal of ten.

You’re finished and you turn to face the camera, you see he’s laid down on the bed, eyes intense and holding yours even from the small screen of the phone across the room. “Stretches now, lass.” He sounds out of breath and you wonder what you’d see if he flipped the view to his back camera.

You sit on the floor, legs V’d and begin to stretch them wider and wider. You curse your decision for shorts and blame it on being tired and not thinking it through. You know the crotch of your shorts is pulling taut against your pussy, barely covering your panties as you stretch further and further. You start to strain, little puffs of breath and groans escaping your lips as you widen your stretch. “Hold it, bonnie.” And you do just as he asks, holding it against the potent pain accumulating in your calves and inner thighs. “Just a little more, doing so good fer me.”

You hold it for another five seconds and he finally lets you release. You’re breathing heavily as you draw your legs back together and if you aren’t mistaken you think you can hear his labored breathing as well. “Johnny.” His voice is thick with strain. “Aye, lass.”

“What are you doing?” His smirk is devastatingly handsome as he speaks. “Nothing yet, lass.” You feel emboldened and press your luck, eyes connected with his as you command him. “Flip your camera Johnny.” His eyes hold yours raptly for a few seconds before he does as you ask and the shot flips to his chest and legs lying on his bed. He’s got a dark blue comforter and you can see in the frame a pull up bar and a few weights on a rack in the corner, just what you’d expect but the first thing to catch your eye is the raging bulge in his gray sweats and your breath hitches as his hand comes into view, wrapping around the base of the stretched fabric and adjusts it to better accommodate his length.

“See what ye do tae me, hen?” You do see, you can’t look away as his hand squeezes himself through the cloth cage. Your mind, overworked and fried is trying to get you to say something, anything, but the only thing that will compute is his name. “Johnny.”

“Get up and sit down on the couch, lass.” His voice holds a tone of gentle authority, you could probably protest but you’re tired and trying to swim against the current of what your body wants is a task you’re not up for at the moment, so you give in and let him command you.

You sit on the couch at first, eyes still glued to where he’s fisting his cock through his clothes. “Sit back, hen and spread your legs.” You do sit back but you don’t spread your legs, at first. “Come on, bonnie. Jus’ like we practiced.” So you do, not as wide as you would when stretching but enough to give him a view and the tingles of anticipation thrumming through you has you on edge, like you’re standing before a cliff and about to jump, there’s no going back from this.

He groans and you watch with keen eyes as he pulls his sweats down until he’s just in his boxers, the same dark blue shade as his bed spread. “Ye wanna see more, lass?” He’s tempting you and it’s working, you do wanna see more but it’ll come at a price. “Yes.” He wraps a fist around his cock and you shift uncomfortably as your panties dampen. “Take yer shorts off.”

You sit up and tug your shorts down your legs, feeling dirty but heightened as you do, like you’re liberating something inside yourself even you don’t quite understand. He hisses air through his teeth as he spots the wet patch quickly growing and soaking the gusset of your panties.

He pulls his boxers down and his cock springs up into view, finally free and it makes you bite your lip. He’s thick and has length to boot, a good seven inches of it guessing by the comparison of his hand up against it.

There’s a neatly trimmed patch of dark hair spreading out from the base and you can’t help but moan as he wraps his hand around it and begins to tug lazily. His voice is husky and deep when he speaks.

“So pretty, hen. Are you that wet all fer me?” And you’re beyond words so you just nod, eyes glued to the way he tugs on himself. He curses under his breath and your pussy aches from the lack of stimulation. You snake a hand down your chest, descending toward the pain, itching to relieve the tension. “That’s it, lass. Let me see ye touch yerself fer me.”

So you do, just overtop of the fabric, a roll of your fingertips overtop your clit, enough to make your head tip back and moan blissfully. “Good girl.” You look back up to see him working his shaft in earnest, firm grip and steady movements. You feel emboldened by his reactions and lean forward again to rid yourself of the cloth barrier. He stops and watches as your pussy comes into view for the first time.

“Steamin’ Jesus. Fucking gorgeous.” He resumes his movements as your fingers settle over top your bare clit and you start to rub tight little circles over it, just how you like. “Show me Bonnie, show me just how you like it.” The sexual tension between the two of you, the stress of the day all come to a head and you reach down to spread your wetness up and around your clit, moaning low and sultry as he watches you play with yourself.

You reach your other hand up and squeeze one of your breasts through your top and look back up into the screen. Watching him pick up the pace, making fast even strokes over the tip of his cock with each movement. The motion of his hands, the way his tip disappears into his fist and reappears with each pass is mesmerizing. You can feel the beginnings of an orgasm building and it just drives you on as you think about coming in front of him for the first time.

Your fingers pick up speed and your moans rise in pitch as he talks you through it. “Mmm such a bonnie little pussy. I wanna see ye come for me lass. Can ye do that fer me? Come nice and hard fer me?” You suck in a deep breath as you work your body into a frenzy, pinching a nipple between your fingers as you feel yourself nearing the edge.

You look up to see him vigorously stroking his cock. His breathing is heavy and loud through the speakers and you wonder if he’ll be loud when he comes. You’re close and even though he’s not even in the same room as you he can tell, spurring you on. “That’s it hen. Just like that. Do it. Cum fer me.”

It’s all it takes to send you spiraling. Your pussy clenching around nothing as you fall over the edge and succumb to the pleasure. You let out a long drawn out moan as you do, body tensing as you pant and writhe on the couch in full view.

You look up when he calls your name, watch as his strokes quicken and shorten and then all at once he’s coming undone, legs tensing and white hot cum shooting from the tip of his hard cock. It arcs through the air before landing in spattered lines across his thighs. The guttural yell that falls from his lips as he does is loud, just as you’d expected and you wish you could feel it, the rumble of his chest when it sounds.

You’re both breathing heavily and coming down when it hits you, the post nut clarity. You just had very raw, hardcore phone sex with a man who made a copy of the keys to your home, came over without you knowing while you were at work and invaded your personal space.

You’re ashamed and a little sickened by what you’ve just done. Quickly closing yourself off from view you snatch your panties and shorts from the ground and redress. “Fuck, lass. That was fucking amazing.” You’re already working on damage control in your mind, blocking out the experience, no matter how much you enjoyed it, it was wrong.

“No Johnny. It wasn’t.” You can see him switch the camera around and he’s way more relaxed now, smile a mile wide on his face. “Aye, it was. Cannae wait tae see ye, tomorrow.”

You don’t even know if you’ll show up now, how could you after that? It was just a mistake you told yourself, a tired slip up, absolutely a one time thing. You close your eyes and when you open them he’s looking at you and you swear you can his adoration for you swimming in them. “Go to sleep, lass. I wanna see ye tomorrow at 4:30.”

You say nothing and hang up. It’s very late before you fall asleep that night, debating whether or not the consequences of not showing up tomorrow are something you can afford to risk. If you don’t show up he could just pop into your house at any time. It’d be better to just show up and act like nothing happened, that was the key, just brush it under the rug and hope he’ll do the same.

You’re nervous about it all day at work, and you know Nancy knows something is wrong but you insist everything’s ok. You’re too ashamed to tell her about any of it and she relents and leaves you alone but she knows you’re lying. When four o’clock hits you’re out the door, won’t be able to stop this frenzied state of mind until you can clear things up with him and make things go back to normal.

The next day when you walk in the door and sign in he meets you at the desk and before you even have a chance to say anything he’s on you, lips crashing into yours in a passionate and very explicit kiss right in the lobby of the building surrounded by patrons and gawking onlookers.

He doesn’t even give you room to breathe let alone get a word in as his body presses up against yours and he grabs ahold of the back of your neck to keep you locked against him. When he pulls away you’re shell shocked and silent. As he pulls you against him and walks you further into the building you know things have taken an irrevocable turn.

#cod x reader #soap x reader #dark!johnny #dubcon #dark fic #cod mw2 #john soap mactavish #johnny soap mctavish x reader #cod #cod soap #twdubcon

[darlingdarkly]

New Year, New You Part 7

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish x f!reader

Personal Trainer AU

4.2k words

CW: dubcon!, dark fic, dark content, obsessive behavior, dirty talk, explicit language, E rated, NSFW, smut, 18+, mature themes, gaslighting

Part 1, 6, 8

You begin to drift up from a deep slumber, your head hurts and the room is too bright, you can tell even through your closed lids that the room is filled with an ungodly amount of sunlight. Had you forgotten to close the curtains before bed? Very unlike you but not an impossibility. You sure as hell were regretting it now though.

You were also still very drowsy, you can’t ever remember waking up this sleepy. Maybe you’ll rest your eyes for a bit longer.

You stir in your sleep, tongue moving over the roof of your mouth, it’s dry as sand. But you don’t want to get water, you’re still so tired and your head, Fuck! Your head kills. Maybe you could get up and get some water, close those damn curtains while you’re at it.

Your eyelids feel like they’re glued closed. One hand comes up to shield your eyes while the other rubs the crustated sleep from the corners of them. Your vision clears, and you're squinting but your eyes are open. You lift your head just slightly and examine the room.

It’s not your room, but it’s familiar. Like a room you’ve seen in a dream. Were you dreaming? Had to be. This wasn't your room. Everything blurs and you blink your eyes, your dream eyes, to clear your vision. It helps. You’re lying in bed, not your bed but the dream bed. The duvet is dark blue, it’s familiar but from where is far from even the tip of your tongue.

The room is neat, there's a dark wood dresser in the corner, a pull up bar and a stand with dumbbells progressing in weight off to the side. You turn your head to see a digital alarm clock, it reads 9:48. Fuck! 9:48?!? You’re late for work. That gets you moving, you sit up but it’s too fast and your headache triples as the world begins to spin. The dream bubble pops. Not a dream after all, but still not your room.

You recover but slowly as the room gradually stops spinning. Where were you? It looked familiar, but you still couldn’t place it. What happened last night? It’s very hazy. Nancy, you can remember that much. You had gone out with Nancy, everything else might as well had been a dream for as much as you could recall of it.

Someone was in this house with you, you could smell something delicious in the air and your stomach growled its approval. You groan and put a hand to your forehead. You needed water immediately. You stare down at the bed, dark blue, a deep navy shade. A memory, hazy, begins to come forth. Your pounding head is slow processing it, it rises to the surface from the depths of your murky brain. Your dry mouth falls open just as the door swings inward and just as your recollection had summoned him, here he was, huge grin on his face and a glass of cold orange juice in hand.

“Bonnie!” You wince at his volume and he tenses up, quieting down and even stepping lighter, trying his hardest to not pain you. “Sorry, lass. Ye might be a bit woozy. Had a helluva night last night.” You must be dreaming, but you’re not. You know you’re not.

You start to say his name but all that comes out is croaky garbles. “Here, drink this.” He hands you the glass and you’ve never coveted a glass of orange juice so hard in your life. You take huge, greedy gulps and when the juice runs over the dried strip of leather that had become your tongue you nearly cry from the joy of it. You downed half the glass and heard him from beyond it. “Easy, hen. Drink slow. Ye can have as much as ye want.”

You reluctantly pull the glass from your lips and lick them, the saliva that had burst forth from your mouth now that you’d had something to drink was overflowing and you wondered how you could have produced so much in such a short amount of time if you had been so extremely parched just moments ago.

With it under control you made another attempt at speaking. “Johnny? What’s going on?” He took the glass from your hand and set it down on the nightstand next to the bed. “Well lass, ye had a bit too much tae drink I’d say. I’m no doctor hen, but if ah’m nae mistaken I’d have tae say maybe there was a bit more to it than jus’ that.”

You definitely had had too much to drink last night. But had you? You certainly don’t remember drinking in excess but then again you couldn’t really remember much of anything about last night. Wait, what did he just say? “What do you mean Johnny?”

“Well hen, I’m no expert, but I’d say maybe ye weren’t watchin’ yer drinks too closely and I’d say maybe someone might’ve spiked ye.” What? Spiked you, like roofies or something? That can’t be. Can it? But fuck your head did hurt something unnatural.

“Ahh fuck, Johnny. I’m late for work, I’ve gotta go.” You begin to pull back the covers and get up when you notice you’re naked from the waist down. “Johnny! What the fuck! Where are my pants?”

“Jus’ slow down there, hen. First of all ye dinnae need tae worry about work, I’ve already called in tae say ye won’t be comin’ in today. Yer in no condition fer it and as yer personal trainer I took it upon mahself tae take care of ye in yer time of need. Dinnae worry, Johnny’s gotcha.”

You groan as the headache throbs back into focus with a vengeance. You have sooo many questions, like how did you get here? How did he find you? What happened? How does he know where you work and how did he call into your work and use one of your sick days for you? They swirl behind your eyes, pulsing in time with the throb of your head and instead of asking all of them like you should, you just don’t. There’ll be plenty of time for questions later.

Instead you grab again for the glass of juice and down it. With it empty he takes it from you and stands. “I’ll get ye some more, are ye hungry?” The question reawakens the grumbling earthquake in your belly and you look up at him and nod. He smiles and says nothing just turns and leaves, shutting the door behind him.

You sit in place for a moment, staring down at the bed and trying to get a grip on your memories of last night. You remember Nancy suggesting the two of you go out, you remember not wanting to, you remember getting ready and getting in the cab anyway and then it all takes on a fuzzy, unreal feel, like a dream instead of something that actually occurred.

You remember drinking and dancing but not much else. The watch on your wrist vibrates and it surprises you, you’re not sure why, you’ve only taken it off a handful of times to charge it but there’s something about it, a piece of knowledge floating on a cloud above you, refusing to grace you with its enlightenment.

You have a look through it, see the text notifications from Nancy.

“Where are you!” 12:29 am

“Are you alright?” 12:35 am

“Ok well, Thanks for coming out tonight, it was fun!” 12:44 am

“See you tomorrow ☺️” 12:47am

“Sure, you have like a dozen of them, I’ll let Mrs. Magna know. don’t worry about it.” 6:45am

All of her replies were there as notifications, but with only her half of the conversation at your fingertips you could only imagine what was said. You assume you told her something about leaving and then the last text was about not coming into work today but you certainly weren’t up at six in the morning, you didn’t feel like you were working off of only three hours of sleep.

You had to find your phone and see the rest of the texts. You got out of bed and remembered you were naked from the waist down. In all your confusion you’d forgotten to make him explain that detail, you’d have to ask him again later.

You stood and made your way over to the dresser, pulling the top drawer open and found a neatly folded stack of boxers and socks, not what you were looking for. The next was full of shirts, also of no use to you. The third drawer down you found what you were searching for. Pulling out a pair of sweatpants you pulled them up and around your waist.

Ok, that’s one thing taken care of, now you need to locate your clutch. You look around the room, on the other side of the bed, open the two other doors in the room Johnny didn’t leave through to find a bathroom and a closet. It’s in the closet you find it but still not your pants, they must be somewhere else. You pull the phone from it and immediately begin to go through your messages.

Nancy is the only person you’ve messaged in the last twenty four hours and the conversation is foreign. The first text is from Nancy asking where you are and you had replied

“Goin’ home.” 12:32 am

That’s it? That’s all you said? That doesn’t sound like a text you would write, you’d add more detail and reassure her that you’re ok. You decide to read out the whole thing.

“Where are you!” 12:29 am

“Goin’ home.” 12:32am

“Are you alright?” 12:35 am

“Fine, just had too much to drink.” 12:42am

“Ok well, Thanks for coming out tonight, it was fun!” 12:44 am

“Oh yeah, so much fun!” 12:45am

“See you tomorrow ☺️” 12:47am

“Nancy, I won’t be coming in to work today. Can’t stop getting sick. Feel so bad. Just can’t get out of bed. Can I use one of my designated sick days?” 6:30am

“Sure, you have like a dozen of them, I’ll let Mrs. Magna know. don’t worry about it.” 6:45am

???? You don’t text like that? It’s all so short hand and formal. Did Nancy really not notice how unlike you these texts were? Of course she didn’t, she was as drunk as you were.

You lock your phone as you hear him approaching the door and slip it into the pocket of your sweats. He walks in and stops in the doorway, a plate in one hand and a mug in the other. You think for a moment he may drop them but he seems to recover and sets them down on the nightstand and rushes over to you.

You are immobilized with shock as he grabs you, hands sliding down your legs, planting his firm palms on the globes of your ass and lifting. You can feel the pure strength he possesses as he pulls you up his body and into his arms with no assistance from you whatsoever. Your mouth parts in surprise and he takes the opportunity to seize your lips with his, tongue slipping inside and melting to yours.

It felt good, his lips against yours after so long, you hadn’t realized how much you’d missed it until they were upon you again and for just a moment you let yourself be lost to it. Your watch beeped and you felt him smile against your lips before you pulled away, embarrassed at being ousted once again by it.

You wanted to slip out of his arms but he held you steady, his mouth moved to your ear with a slow trail of kisses. When he reached it he whispered into it. “Did he miss me, hen? Cause I missed you.” He gently lowered your body down his until your ass nudged something hard, his erection prodding you eagerly.

“Jus’ cannae help it, hen. Saw ye wearing’ mah sweats an’ just about took ye right there against the dresser. Gonna give a man a heart attack surprisin’ me like that.” You let out a surprised little gasp as he nipped at the shell of your ear. “But there’ll be plenty of time for that later. My lass is hungry isn’t she?”

You nodded, the angry pit that had become your stomach crying out at the mention of food. He let you down and followed you back to the bed, the surface dipped as you both sat onto its plush surface. He reached over to the nightstand and grabbed the plate he’d carried in.

Sitting atop it were two round things, they looked sort of like huge meatballs. You looked up at him curiously. He simply picked one up off the plate and handed it to you. “Try it.” Hesitantly you picked yours up. It was crisp to the touch and smelled faintly like oil. Definitely deep fried whatever it was. You looked up at him once more and he nodded encouragingly. You brought it up to your mouth and took a small bite.

The rich, savory flavor of sausage floated over your tongue and you welcomed it. You chewed and swallowed and went back for a second bigger bite, this time biting into the core and getting hard boiled egg along with the sausage and you looked up to see Johnny smiling and digging into his own breakfast.

“Johnny, what is this? It’s delicious.” You took another bite as he explained. “Scotch egg. Mah mum used tae make em’ when I was wee. They’re a personal favorite. Do ye like it?” You nodded, and munched on the egg appreciatively.

“You're a good cook, Johnny.” He beams under your compliment, cheeks reddening, eyes bright and gleaming you barely catch a glimpse of as he quickly looks away to try and offset the effects. “S’nothing, hen. Cookings jus’ chemistry an’ I’ve always been good at that.”

This sparks a memory, the jumpstart of a thought just like the first that just refuses to reveal itself fully, there and gone, like someone hit you with the forget it stick.

Before you can think about it too hard he picks up the mug next to him and hands it to you. It’s warm and fragrant, a nice hot cup of coffee and as you took a sip your face puckered up a bit as the bitter twinge hit your tongue, it had a distinct pungent aftertaste, there was definitely alcohol mixed in.

He laughed and you scowled at him a little. “S’just a nip, Bonnie. It’ll help with yer hangover.” You grumbled a little and took another swallow, it went down easier the second time.

Eating made you feel a little better you had to admit, but then those questions you had made themselves evident again, circling your mind and trying to push past your lips. Before you could voice them he began asking questions of his own.

“How have ye been, lass?”

“Fine.” You lie immediately, it’s first nature. What were you supposed to tell him? You’ve been moping for a week? Just trudging through life like a lost puppy since you'd seen him last? Your watch starts to beep, indicating a tick up in your heart rate. “Lass.”

You can’t look at him, you avoid it even though you can feel the icy stare of his baby blues chilling you and you have to suppress a shiver. “I’ve been fine, works just been… hard on me.”

The watch stops as your heart rate slows. “Have ye been doin’ yer homework still?” Easy question, you answer honestly and the watch stays quiet. “Yes.” He doesn’t say anything for a moment and you think the interrogation is over but then he drops the hard one.

“Why haven’t ye come back to the gym, bonnie?” You tense a bit in your spot. What would you say? That you can’t? Does he not know your trial is up? That you can’t possibly afford a membership? What would he say if he knew you’d been by, everyday for a week but have just been too chicken to go in?

You force yourself to relax and answer nonchalantly over another bite of your egg. “My trial ended.” You prayed that he’d leave it at that, but he didn’t. “So ye havnae come back because yer trial ended.” You nod to avoid speaking but the watch on your wrist says it all for you, it beeps against your words, turning your truth into lies. “Bonnie.”

The stupid thing won’t stop. Why? Why do you keep this thing on? Yet another errant memory tries to come to the surface. Something about that watch but it’s not clear, you just can’t remember. It hurts almost, the strain of trying to remember things that just won’t disclose themselves so you let it go and give him a piece of the truth. “Ok, so I’ve been by once or twice, but I didn’t go in, I just was passing by.”

You stuff the last of the egg into your mouth to quiet yourself. He scoots closer and pulls the plate from your hands, setting it down on the nightstand as you swallow and take a sip of your coffee. He takes that from you too and there’s nothing left to hide behind.

“Why did ye nae say anything tae me, ye didnae text me or anything, jus’ disappeared.” You felt hot all over, guilty and shamed, you can feel it pulling at you, tugging you with ropes, go to him they say. Push yourself into his arms and promise him you’ll never leave. Atone.

You can’t. You have questions of your own. You take your watch off, eyes locked with his as you undo the clasp and you can see the panic in his eyes but it turns to confusion as you wrap the gadget, in all its golden beauty around his wrist. He furrows his brows but doesn’t pull away, just sits and lets you.

“What happened to me last night?” He shifts a bit but you hold his arm steady, the sensors pick up his vitals and perhaps it’s dawned on him what you were doing, but if he did he didn’t fight it. “I was comin’ home late and I ran into ye outside of the club. Ye were hanging ontae the wall, couldnae even walk, hen. I tried talkin’ tae ye, tried tae find out who you’d been with but ye were out of it so I brought ye home tae sleep it off.”

The watch stayed silent the whole time, not a beep out of it. “Practically had tae carry ye if ah’m honest. Pretty lucky I came by I’d say. Ye were right sloshed.”

You didn’t know what to say, you should be thanking him but there’s still a rift between what he’s saying and what feels like truth. He just happened to be walking by just as you just happened to be outside of the club. Did you go outside by yourself? Really?

Why would you not be with Nancy? Why would you not have talked to her first? Clearly you hadn’t because she’d texted you and asked where you were. And if you’d been too drunk to walk, how could you have texted Nancy to tell her that you were going home? You were supposed to believe you could text intelligibly but not stand upright without gripping the wall? Why can’t you remember anything?

You wished you could remember more but you can’t and your little mock lie detector test hadn’t indicated he was lying to you, it sure as hell had ratted out your lies. You decided he had to be telling you the truth, as odd and coincidental as his story was, it wasn't impossible.

You sigh, accepting his account of the night before as valid, despite your inconsistencies and you felt him slip the watch off his wrist and drape it carefully over yours, he secures the clasp and lifts your hand up to his mouth and kisses the pulse point just below where the clasp sits. A soft press of his lips in a kiss so tender you feel your face heating up at the gentleness of the gesture.

He climbs up your arm in kisses, outside looking in it would have been comical to watch him treat you like Pepe Le Pew. The sheer affection in it almost cheesy but all you could do in the moment was relax into his touch. He’s reached your neck and your head dips to the side automatically, giving him more access and he takes it. Lips parting as they skim your jaw until they’re over your lips and you lean into his kiss, anticipating it, you want it, crave so very badly to be swept up by it, but he stops and leans back.

“How do ye feel?” It’s a simple question really and you find that somewhere between breakfast and your recount of last night your headache had subsided and you had a whole day ahead of you with nothing to worry about, no work to do, just you and Johnny. You felt exalted, after a week of trudging through your love sick blues you now somehow had everything you really wanted right at your fingertips.

But you couldn’t tell him that. So you just told him that you felt better and smiled, the first genuine smile you’ve had all week and it must be enough because he leans back in like he’s read your mind and gives you what you were wishing for.

His lips are soft but demanding, urgent in their press against yours and you have no choice but to succumb to their will. You lean back and he follows, chasing your lips until you’re pressed back against the pillow and he’s straddling you, strong arms stationed on either side of your head as his tongue pushes into your mouth and dominates yours.

You want more, want to roll him over and mount him, spend the rest of today alternating between riding him until your legs quivered and being flipped over and ravaged but he has different plans as he pulls away from you and backs off the bed. You stare at him in disbelief as he gathers up the dishes, smiling that gorgeous toothy grin as he does it.

“Dinnae look at me like that. We’ve got work tae do, hen.” You can’t believe he’s actually walking away from you until he does it, leaving you to stew in your arousal and stare after him. He’s gone for a bit and when he comes back you've already gotten up, made the bed and now sit on the edge watching him expectantly. He rifles through his drawers for clothes, setting out an outfit for him and then disappears into his closet, he comes out with a very familiar bag.

“What work?” He smiles and flexes, biceps bulging as he shows off his guns, you’re lost a bit at the sight of them. If he wasn’t anything else he sure was handsome, strong and lean just like you’d always fancied men to be. It’s like he’d appeared from your teenage dreams and you took him as sort of obsessed with you on top of it, an intoxicating combination indeed. “Why, our next session a’course. What else, hen?”

He hands it over to you nonchalantly and begins to strip. You recognize it immediately, It’s your overnight bag. You pull the bag close and try not to stare as he pulls his shirt off. Rummaging through it you find your workout clothes, garments you’ve worn around him multiple times, nothing shocking but you find more than just that, the bag is practically overflowing, stuffed full.

In the bag are also sets of clothes that you usually lounge around the house in, comfy things that no one ever sees you in. There’s also a few outfits that you’d normally wear to work, business casual folded neatly in the bottom. There's underwear and bras and even a couple pairs of shoes. There’s a smaller bag of toiletries tucked in the side pocket. It looks like a bag you’d pack yourself when planning to be away from home for a weekend or maybe a whole week by the sheer volume of your wardrobe stuffed into it.

“Johnny.” You look up from the bag and catch his gaze as he pulls his shorts up around his waist. “Aye, lass.”

You don’t even bother asking him the first few questions that come to mind like when did you pack this? And how? How did you know where everything was? How did you so perfectly root through my clothes and pack me a bag so thoroughly accurate of what I’ll need while I’m away? You could even see your soap, shampoo, conditioner and toothbrush. Everything you could possibly need he had grabbed.

But you don’t know how to ask him those things, don’t even know if you’d want the answer to them if you could so instead you ask the one question you don’t think you already know the answer to.

“Why is there so much?” He looks up at you like the answer is obvious and you’re stupid or perhaps just playing coy. “So ye could stay.” And he says it like it’s a concrete thing, as sound as the sea, the decisions already been made. Signed. Sealed. Delivered.

“What are you talking about?” He looks at you and his eyes are piercing and serious. “Ye cannae go home. S’nae safe.”

#cod #call of duty #cod mw2 #john soap mactavish #cod x reader #johnny soap mactavish #johnny soap mctavish x reader #cod soap #twdubcon #dark!johnny #darkfic

[darlingdarkly]

New Year, New You Part 2

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish x f!reader

Personal Trainer AU

Just over 3.5k words

CW: dubcon!, dark fic, dark content, obsessive behavior, dirty talk, explicit language, E rated, 18+, mature themes

Part 1, 3

You enter the building, it’s noisy and busy in the lobby. Coming up to the kiosk you sign in and a new bracelet is spit out at you. You put it around your wrist and step past the lobby and further into the building. Sitting alone at a table in the smoothie alcove is Johnny and when he sees you his face lights up. You told yourself the night before, somewhere between coming down from your Johnny fueled orgasm and the drifts of your dreams that the first day was a fluke.

They’re all trained like this, to seem super bubbly and interested in you. It’s a ploy, a sales tactic, it’s to get you back in the door, have you pay that membership fee so you’ll be the center of attention of this super attractive, highly magnetizing flytrap. If you were a man there’d be an extremely fit, ultra flirty woman counterpart to come over and hyperfixate on you until you caved and bought a membership for the hopes of getting your hands in that tight little sports bra and the gym raked in another sucker.

They probably pay them extra too, some kind of bonus or sales commission for the trainer who racked up the most membership fees that month. Johnny was just trying to meet his quota and you were fresh meat. You ignored the empty pit that had formed at the center of your chest with this epiphany and told yourself you weren’t even mad about it. It was a ruse, clear and simple but what they didn’t know was that they weren’t gonna make a sucker out of you, that was for sure.

If Johnny was gonna use you, so be it. The joke was on him, he’s gonna put all this time into you and when your two weeks were up you’d be gone. The first thing he said to you was “Homework?” With his hand out, like there was some physical object you were meant to place in his hand. You were pretty sure he had given you a few sets of exercises to do, physical activities. Not paperwork. “Yeah, I did it.”

He looked up at you, head tilted like a dog. “Proof.” You laughed, a trill little nervous sound. What could you possibly have to be nervous about? Pleasing him? Being in some sort of trouble with this man you just met yesterday? But you couldn’t exactly shake the feeling. “I… I don’t.. have proof. But I did it.”

He sighs and gestures for you to sit down. You pull the chair out and sit across from him and he leans forward muscular arms on display as they rest across the tabletop. “I’ll let it go this time, since ye didn’t know but when I assign ye homework I expect proof.” You take your gym bag strap off your shoulder and set it down beside you. “Proof like a log book? Or something?”

The grin that grows on his face is gorgeous but condescending. “Can cheat a log book can’t ya hen? No. I need video evidence.” Your jaw drops a little. “You want me to videotape it?” He nods and smiles. You consider this, it’s a little strange, but you guess you can do that, prop your phone up and videotape your evening workout assignments. “Ok.”

He sits back in his chair and you relax. You go to get up and he adds. “One more thing, hen.” You stop and sit back down in the chair. “Got a few questions before we start today and I want ye tae be as honest as ye can. Can ye do that fer me?” This sets you a bit on edge but you nod in agreement.

The questions start out basic and non intrusive. Have you ever worked out before? Ever worked with a personal trainer before? Then they grow a bit more personal. What kind of home do you live in? Do you have any family living with you? A boyfriend or husband? Roommates? You answer them slowly but honestly.

Then the questions take on a more medical standpoint. Do you have any allergies? Any health problems he should know about? Are you on birth control or IUD? Are you sexually active? You look around to see if anyone is paying attention to your conversation but it seems not to be the case. Your mind is trying to process an answer to that last question but before you even can he looks up from where he’s been recording your answers in his phone and asks “When’s the last time you orgasmed?”

You're dead quiet. Did he just ask you that? Your ears must be deceiving you. “I’m sorry?” He doesn’t even smile, just asks you again. “Orgasm. When was your last orgasm.” You cough at the utter vulgarity of it. “None of your business.” He chides you, like you’re a child. “Nothing to be ashamed of, lass. I’m yer personal trainer.” He says it like it holds the same weight as being your physician.

When you still don't answer he begins to explain. “Yer body lass, is a very particular beast. It needs balance. A very carefully curated balance of nutrition, regular exercise, mental and emotional inputs, creative and productive outlets, and a series of stress and tension releases, among other things. As yer personal trainer it is my job tae make sure yer body is in balance and yer living as healthy and fit as I possibly can. Yer sexual health is as important as yer mental and physical health, and I’d even go as far as to argue it’s an integral part of an adult’s mental well-being and stability. We’re both adults here lass, so I’ll ask ye again. When’s the last time you had some real resease?”

Your mouth is dry, and as you sat there and listened to him you felt a little ashamed of yourself, thinking he was being lewd by asking you these, on the surface, seemingly crass questions when in reality he was just doing his job. Trying to be to the best of his ability as attentive to your needs and as thorough at his job as he could. You felt suddenly compelled to apologize for being perhaps rash and accusatory, jumping too quickly to conclusions.

Your next instinctual thought is the one you jump on, pure honesty and your cheeks flare with heat as you say it. “Last night.” And while you had been honest to try and save some sort of face you come to immediately regret your decision as the professional, serious demeanor he’d donned to pry the answer from your lips drops. His eyes are shiny devious lights, lips turning upwards at the very corners, bright white predatory teeth flashing at you from the parted lips, wolfish in their grin. He leans forward and you feel your heart beating louder in your chest as his eyes hold yours, locked and daring, his hands disappear from the tabletop.

When he speaks next his voice is fundamentally different, almost like you’re speaking to a different man. His voice is gruff, tone a whole octave lower as he growls out from his chest in a voice just loud enough to float to your ears. “Dirty girl. What were ye thinking about hmm? Did ye think about me while ye touched that pretty little pussy?” He must see the way you feel reflected across your features because his eyes darken and he continues on.

“Aye. It was me wasn’t it. What’d ye think about me doin’ tae ye. Did ye think about mah fat cock in that tight little cunt? Bendin’ ye over and sliding in til’ I’m buried to the hilt?” You felt the palm of his hand glide up over the curve of your knee, his fingers wrapping around the width of your lower thighs as they snaked up your leg while he poured filth into your ears.

“Or did I have ye on yer back, legs spread nice and wide while I feasted in the valley of yer thighs til’ yer eyes rolled back and ye were scremin’ mah name tae the heavens?” Your jaw dropped of its own accord and he smirked, fingers squeezing the meat of your leg as he held you captive with his eyes.

“Aye that’s it then.” Your mouth closes and opens like a gaping fish as you try to get a grip of the situation and stutter some kind of refusal. Some kind of response that will make you regain control of the conversation but the sudden change of direction, the pure whiplash of it puts you at a loss for words. All you seem capable of doing is yammering out meaningless syllables and the starts of words. “You- I didn’t- Wait-“

But he’s not done and he silences you as his fingers brush the hem of your sweats. The shudder that runs up your spine is violent and makes you twist in your seat, unintentionally bucking into his touch.

“Nothin’ tae be ashamed of hen, I thought of ye too last night. Fist wrapped around mah cock as I thought of that sweet wet little gob of yers. How pretty ye’d look on all fours fer me. We’re gonna have a lot of fun, me n’ you.”

With that he stands, hand removed from your leg and you didn’t miss him quickly adjusting the growing tent in his gym shorts as he rose. He leans over the table and your head cranes back as he leans in close. “Go get changed. I’ll see ye in the gym, it’s time for our first session.”

You finally manage to collect yourself in the girls locker room. Luckily it’s mostly empty as you slide your sweats off to find your panties ruined. How had it gone so sideways? You came in determined to outplay him and instead you find yourself wet and hanging onto every single one of his words like some kind of filthy slut. That’s the only word for it, you feel like a filthy little slut. Just the pure audacity of him, to speak to you in the most vile and shameless way, had you soaked.

It was the thought of him, thick cock in hand, stroking it with slow languid strokes as he dreams of you on his knees in front him, your hand replacing his, the look of pure ecstasy in his eyes as he watches you take him down your throat for the first time, bobbing your head up and down his- STOP. This is not helping. This is exactly what he wants. But it doesn’t make it easy to push the fantasy from the forefront of your mind (because actually getting yourself to stop imagining it is impossible).

You finish dressing, zip up your gym bag, place it in the locker and leave as you watch the red light replace the green. He’s waiting for you in the open gym by the free weights and when he sees you there’s a content little smile on his face, like he wasn’t just wrecking your entire train of thought with nothing more than dirty words and a hand trialing up your thigh minutes ago.

You get the first word in, you know it’s the only way you’ll be able to control the conversation, if he speaks your whole argument may crumble to dust before you’ve gotten your point across. “We need to set some boundaries. You can’t just speak to me that way. It’s inappropriate and unprofessional and I won’t stand for it.”

To your surprise he just smiles and agrees, which deflates your sails completely. But you showing up after yesterday and staying for the session even after the “inappropriate and unprofessional” talk when you arrived was all he really needed to know. He’ll let you tire yourself out like a horse with bit in its mouth for the first time. Wild horses must be broken.

“If we’re going to do this then I want you to treat me with respect and decency. Do we have an agreement?” He stands there with his arms crossed over his chest and a neutral expression on his face, and the pause he leaves between your demands and his answer makes you feel a little like a child throwing a tantrum. “Aye, lass. I’ll treat ye with all the decency and respect ye deserve. Are ye ready to get started now?”

You nod and he motions you over to a matted area of the room, free of weights and other objects so you can stretch. Something you think would go like him demonstrating and then you imitating while giving you verbal pointers, but no. It actually means he shows you once and then makes you imitate it and if it’s not exactly how he did it he comes over to you and rearranges you.

Hands all over your body pushing down on your lower back for proper push-ups, hands gliding up your legs all the way to the undersides of your ass cheeks to straighten your legs for proper toe touches, he’s sitting on your feet for your sits ups, claiming your feet are wobbling too much, leans in way too far while you’re coming up so you’re face to face when you do and you catch him several times staring at your lips, his own slightly parted, even having to tell him you’ve done your last set of ten when he was supposed to be keeping count.

When you’ve finished what he calls your warm up he explains the next steps in a proper session. “I wanna work on yer flexibility. We’re gonna have ye doin’ full on splits by the time done with ye.” And he’s smiling and laughing like it’s some sort of secret joke between the two of you.

You sit on the mat, legs spread out before you in a comfortable V. Slowly he begins to spread your legs wider and wider. They come to a natural stop and he gets between them, using those toned strong arms to push past their limitations. Your brow furrows as the burn in your hips intensifies. “Johnny, s’too much.” But he keeps going, pushing on your inner calves, stretching them wider. You roll onto your back and think that he’ll stop but he doesn’t, just climbs over top of you and continues to push. His crotch presses up against yours as he continues to split you. “Johnny!”

“Just a wee bit more, lass. You can do it. Doin’ so good fer me.” And you hate the way the praise sinks into your skin and soothes you. He’s stopped pushing, just holds your legs at this shockingly obtuse angle you never knew you were capable of achieving. You’re whining and whimpering, the ache and burn of your legs fills your mind, all encompassing and excruciating, you can feel tears forming at your waterline, threatening to spill. “Johnny, please!” And he finally relents, slowly releasing the tension on your thighs until you’re breathing heavily and lying limp.

You have time later, at home in bed recounting the events of the day, to imagine the absolutely scandalous sight the pair of you must have made. Your back on the mat, Johnny practically mounting you on the floor of the open gym as he spreads your legs wider and wider while you whimper and whine as cries of his name and “it’s too much” fall from your lips. It’s enough to make your face heat with embarrassment but also make you extremely wet.

He doesn’t move, still slotted obscenely in the space between your thighs, your legs wrapped loosely around his waist as he rubs soothing circles into your hips. The burn in your legs is slowly ebbing to a dull throb and as you lie there you wonder just what you’ve gotten yourself into but he doesn’t let you marinate in your thoughts for long as he rises and extends a hand to help you up.

What follows is him shuffling you around to numerous machines you’d have been too shy and un-knowledgeable about to try on your own, instructing you how to properly use them, the muscle groups they worked on, and setting your weights and reps for. He was very adamant about the rule of three. For the first session it was important to establish a baseline to follow, a minimum amount of each exercise that you were fully capable of carrying out. You could push your limits later but for now he wanted at least three sets of each activity.

And through it all you found that you were actually learning a fair amount about exercising that before seemed daunting and out of reach. You thought that maybe, with his help, you’d actually be able to accomplish some real tangible goals, results you could see. He finished off where the whole journey began, you on the treadmill, he set you off on a jog and spoke to you as you began to move.

“I’ve got some things tae handle, hen. I want ye tae try and keep jogging the whole time I’m gone. Do ye think ye can do that fer me?” You nod, and he walks up to the side of the machine, standing there until you look over and catch his piercing blue eyes. “Yer not just cheating yerself when you slack off, yer cheating me as well and trust me I’ll ken if ye do. I always get what I’m owed, bonnie.”

The threat in his tone chills you but he smiles as he says it and you wonder just what sort of consequences might come with a thing like that. You decide then that you’re not quite ready to find out and with that he leaves you to it.

He’s not gone long. Ten minutes tops and while you’re tired and had slowed to a lighter jog at times you know you had done as he asked and was sort of glad with what you’d been able to manage. He gets you to stop and congratulates you on a fine first session. Even pulls you in for a hug, despite the sweat that’s collected on your skin. It's longer than you’d have liked but at least he’s not outwardly groping you.

He takes you down to the smoothie alcove, orders you a smoothie and has you sit down. You take his offer immediately, glad to be momentarily off your feet. He brings you your drink and lifts one of your legs, unlacing your sneaker and pulling your sock off. “Johnny what are you doing?” He placed your shoe and sock on the floor by your chair and begins rubbing your foot. “Dinnae want ye tae be too sore to workout tomorrow. The first session can be very taxing on the body. Build up of lactic acid in yer muscles and ye’ll be cryin’ tae me tomorrow about why ye cannae come in. Cannae have that now can we?”

You sit forward as much as you can with your foot in his hand. “Actually I need to talk to you about that, I can’t come in tomorrow, I’ve got a huge work thing and I’ll be staying late to help prep the presentation for it.” He hums and switches feet, getting your sock and shoe off before he answers. “Ye can still do yer homework and send it in, I’ll give ye my number. I wanna see the same thing ye did last night on video this time and I wanna see ye practice yer stretches, ye ken?”

You nod in understanding and he begins working up your leg towards your calves, you bite back a moan at the painful but magical sensation. “And I wanna know about these things ahead of time. I’m a flexible man bonnie but I need tae fit these kinds of changes in yer schedule in advance.” You say you understand and even thank him for being so understanding, which brings a huge cheeky grin to his face.

He gets behind you and massages your shoulders as you finish your drink and the feeling of his warm hands on your shoulders and back have you on an erotic edge that you feel uncomfortable with in such an open setting. You quickly finish the last of the smoothie and rise from your seat. After you’ve said your goodbyes and he’d given you a card with his number on it you head for the locker room and begin undressing. You unlock your locker to find your gym bag unzipped and open.

It gives you pause, you’re almost certain you did not leave it this way, you’ve always had the habit of rezipping your gym bag after changing. You quickly rummage through it but find nothing missing. Phone, keys, wallet. Everything was there. You shake it off and label it as a mistake. You must have left it unzipped when you were changing and still flustered from your first little chat. Swinging the bag over your shoulder you leave the locker room and head home, waving to Johnny on your way out the door.

#johnny soap mctavish x reader #dark!johnny #soap x reader #twdubcon #cod soap #cod mw2 #cod x reader #dark fic #cod #dub con

[darlingdarkly]

New Year, New You

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish x f!reader

Personal Trainer AU

just over 4k words

tw: dark fic, dark content, dubcon, obsessive behavior, E rated, 18+, mature themes

Part 1, 2, of 3? 4? 5? (More parts planned)

You had lucked out at the office white elephant party this year. You drew the shortest straw, which normally was a bad omen, but in this particular situation meant you got to pick the last gift, or steal the gift of your choice, assuming it hadn’t been stolen twice already and when it finally came down to the last present and you ripped open the wrapping on a candle scented as something called “Caramel Cashmere” you knew you’d be taking your pick of the lot.

You surveyed the circle with sharp eyes. Two mugs, a blanket with a kitten surrounded by pink feathers emblazoned on it, a sample tray of exotic meat sausages, a gift basket from Sephora, An assortment of flavored Schnapps nip bottles with a set of shot glasses, a pair of AirPod pros (that had already been stolen twice and were thus, out of the game), two tickets to see some standup comedian named Roy Ramheart at the Holiday Inn over the weekend and lastly a two week trial to the brand new bougie gym that opened up downtown.

You turned slowly in the middle of the circle, shitty candle in hand, eyeing each person and their presents one by one. Sharon was shaking the blanket with the feathers and kitten on it, trying to entice you with it. Mark, the gym rat, was trying to hide the two week gym trial under his crossed arms. Maureen was already unpacking the Airpods and changing the heads to one’s that would be most comfortable to her ears, everyone else looked beyond bored. You did one more rotation before stopping in front of Mark who let out an irritated huff as you held out the large beige candle to him. He snatched the candle from your hand and reluctantly held out the gym brochure.

You grabbed it and opened it, leafing through it as the rest of the office stood and began to chatter about their new gifts with heated exchange, there’d be secret swaps later no doubt. Someone turned the music back up and the circle slowly broke and dispersed into a half drunk crowd of sloppy dancing and idle chatter.

Mark came up to you, obviously upset with your steal of the gym trial. “You could’ve had the Sephora gift basket. Maybe you’d get laid a little more if you indulged in some makeup.” You looked up at him, a winning smirk on your face, unfazed by his nasty jest and looked back down at the flashy brochure. Your office bestie Nancy came over and Mark strode away, annoyed at losing out to you and failing to get under your skin.

“What was that about?” You looked up at her and rolled your eyes as she stared after him. “Sore loser.” She eyed the brochure in your hands. “I see you got Mrs. Magna’s gym trial.” You smiled and popped the trial in your purse. “So it was hers, I had a feeling.” She handed you a little red cup full of spiked punch. “Got it in the mail yesterday, she’s already gotten four of them and I was about to throw it out with the rest of the junk but then I remembered she still needed something for the white elephant thing so I saved it back, good thing too, the other option was a airmall catalog from her last business trip.”

You rolled your eyes, your boss had always been contemptuous at best, and if she held the whole of the office at foot level she held your best friend Nancy, her secretary, in the dirt. You had spent countless hours after work, drinks in hand listening to her vent about being Mrs. Magna’s doormat for forty hours a week.

You sucked down the last of the punch in your cup and regarded the hazy swirling quality the room had taken, it was time to go home. “I’m headed home, Nance. You wanna catch a ride with me?” She looked down at her feet, a look you’ve seen all too often, one that meant she’d be taking it face first again. “Gotta stay and clean up. She’s got an early board meeting in the morning and they’re having it here, so I’ve got to have this place spotless by 6:15.”

“God, does that woman ever give you a break?” She pulled you in for a hug and took your empty cup from your hands, replacing it with your purse. “Get home safe, and text me when you get there, yeah?” You smiled and nodded before turning for the door, pulling out your phone and opening up Uber.”

When you were home and locked up tight you texted Nancy, brushed your teeth and fell into bed, letting the buzz carry you to sleep.

You woke up the next morning, sour taste in your mouth and head throbbing dully. You slowly lurched from the nest of your bed and shambled into the bathroom, wincing at the brightness of the lights as you flicked them on and breathing out shakily as you shut them off again. With the little corner window casting gentle waxy rays into the space you turned on the shower and set about brushing your teeth. Bad taste gone, you climbed under the flow of steamy hot water and let the force of it all wash away your grogginess and began to feel just a bit better.

When you were out and dressed you made a light breakfast and pulled your white elephant gift from your purse. The front showed the shiny new building and the fancy letters at the top read “Baliquinox”. The brochure outlined the extent of the trial, all amenities available for the duration of the trial, including but not limited to the scheduled hot yoga, cycling and something called gravity assisted pilates. The gym also advertised a sauna, a full length Olympic sized pool, an in-house smoothie “artist”, as well as massage therapists and personal trainers on staff.

On the back of the brochure various payment plans were listed for membership packages, starting in the thousands, you immediately flipped the brochure back over to the front, two weeks was all you had, but you were going to make the most of it. If you could come up with a routine that you could do at home then you could give up the luxurities that came with the cushy admission price.

A week later you found yourself in front of the glitzy building, gym bag in hand as you stared at the shiny made up people behind the gleaming doors. Walking into the bustle of people you are met with a long white desk, there’s two people behind the counter, a fit beautiful woman and strong chiseled man, both already occupied with customers. But while the actual humans are occupied there is a row of kiosks set up with a sign above them that claims they can help you.

You walk up to one hesitantly and find that it’s actually a really simple process, you scan the barcode on the back of your brochure, type in some preliminary basic information, your name, address, email and phone number, and your free two week trial has begun. The machine spits out a laminated wristband at you. You tear it at the dotted lines, place it around your wrist and now you’re good to go. The machine wishes you a very productive workout and sends you on your way.

You walk further into the building, following a colored line on the floor that claims it will take you to the locker room. As you follow the line your eyes scan your surroundings, to your left are three glass rooms. One is currently occupied by a spin class, the next some sort of dance exercise class, the thumpy music felt through the floor in your feet but unheard to you outside of the walls, the last was a hot yoga class, you could tell by the mats on the floor and the condensation on the glass but as you were watching the instructor pressed a button on the tablet she was holding and the glass grayed out before your eyes, concealing the room from view.

You passed a room which you guessed held the pool, the sounds of echoing splashes crashed against the walls. Finally you could see the locker rooms before you, a door split off into men’s and women’s, keeping to the right you found yourself in an expansive room filled wall to wall with lockers. You came up to one with a green light on the front and pulled on the door, it opened freely and you began to change. When you had on your workout clothes you put the bag inside and shut the door, as you stepped away the light changed from green to red, signifying it had locked and you left the locker room.

You found the open gym space by following a different line on the floor. The room was split up into sections, one for machines, one for free weights, and one for cardio. Meandering into the cardio section you found a row of Peloton treadmills that stretched the length of the wall while the other side were full with cycle machines. You opted for a run to start with. There were a couple treadmills in use at the front but the ones in back were empty. You picked one by the far wall, stepping up onto it and putting your headphones in. You looked up at yourself in the mirror lined wall, taking in a deep breath before finding a song and picking a speed.

Head down and focused you let your footfalls come to the forefront of your mind, the only thing that mattered, soon the room around you faded and became unimportant. You had just broken out a sweat, head lifting and eyes opening to meet the mirrors of your own on the wall, but that wasn’t all.

Standing behind you, eyes connected with yours was a ruggedly handsome man, he stood behind you a few feet back from the treadmill and when you caught him staring he didn’t look away ashamed, just held your gaze with shockingly pale blue eyes. He wore black athletic shorts and a white shirt with the gym's name across his chest, he definitely worked here, personal trainer maybe, judging by his ripped physique. His lips turned up in a smirk and it was you who finally broke the locked gaze.

You looked down at your phone, shuffled through a few songs before checking the mirror again, he was still there. You were about to turn and speak to him when he turned on foot and headed out of the cardio section and out of sight. You stopped the machine and took a moment to take in your surroundings. There were a few more patrons in the cardio section of the gym but they didn’t seem to notice this interaction between you and the handsome stranger at all and there didn’t seem to be some kind of maintenance going on or equipment around you that was needed, warranting the long stare you’d received from the employee.

You turned back to your machine and after looking once more over your shoulder for any other disturbance you resumed your workout, picking up the pace and settling into a jog. It wasn’t five minutes later that the man was back, this time though he was strolling the area and looking, quite obviously, anywhere but you. You felt heat rising in your cheeks and somehow more exposed than before, you almost regretted this isolated treadmill towards the back of the room.

He had passed the other patrons at this point, there was no reason for him to walk back this way any further other than to speak to you. Still you felt compelled to keep your head down, like somehow you weren’t supposed to be here. He stopped behind you once more and the hair on the back of your neck pricked to points. As you made up the courage to confront him he took the first step, walking up to the side of your machine and tapping the handle arm.

Pulling one earbud out you turned the machine down to a walk, a little annoyed at the interruption but compliant and friendly as you could be. “Yes?” He flashed you a smile and gods was he handsome, tan skin, nice white teeth, he looked like he’d stepped out of a magazine, absolutely a personal trainer, but what did he want with you?

“Hi, m’name’s Johnny. I’m a personal trainer, dinnae think I’ve seen you around before.” His voice is gruff and that accent, Scottish? Maybe. Delicious whatever it is. “I’m new, first day.” He rocked back on his heels slightly, smile never faltering. “Ahh, I see. Ken I’d never seen ye before, would’ve remembered such a pretty face.” Charming as well, you couldn’t help but avert your gaze for a moment, the intensity of his presence a little faltering. When you speak your voice is a bit higher pitched than you’d wish and he knows he’s flustered you just a little.

“Yeah. Yeah, just umm.. just started my workout actually. Didn’t get very far.” You turn to go back to the machine but he reaches out and grabs your wrist and it stops you, your eyes flick back to his baby blues. “Have ye set your goals?” One eyebrow shoots up. “My goals?” That dazzling smile is back, it’s bright, nearly blinding. “Yer workout goals, cannae start yer workout without yer goals, hen. Gotta ken where yer at and where yer goin’.”

You consider this for a moment, a little off guard before stuttering forth an answer. “I’d like to work on my cardio.” It’s a simple enough answer, and seems stupid considering that’s what you were doing before he interrupted you and you thought maybe it was enough for him to leave you be, as handsome as he was you wanted to be polite but you also wanted to get back to it.

“That’s a good start bonnie. But we need to know where yer at still. Follow me.” And then he turns away, obviously expecting you to follow him. You stop the machine and stand idly for a moment, unsure what you’ll do, you probably could just go back to walking and that’d be the end of it, and maybe that’s what you should do, but you think it’d be rude, he was being nice so far and maybe he could help you set some real goals to accomplish, he is after all a personal trainer. It would be stupid to pass up his professional help. You climb off the treadmill and walk towards him, speed walking a little to catch up.

He carts you through the gym, and it feels like you’ve walked the whole length of the building, passed through a few sets of double doors, long since stopped seeing any patrons actually exercising. Now you feel like you’re in the back rooms of the gym, maybe where you’re not supposed to be. But you still follow him, keeping track of where you’ve been and how to get out if you have to, you know, just in case.

He finally opens the door to a room and pushes you in, it’s small but furnished. A single ancient treadmill pushed into one of the corners, a few scales against the far wall, charts explaining how to find your BMI and the nutrition pyramid are tacked to the wall. He shuts the door and the room takes on a warm and stuffy quality.

He starts by measuring your height. There’s a laminated ruler all the way up one wall and he pushes you up against it, kicking your feet until your heels touch the wall. You feel the strength in his hands as they bracket your hips, controlling you with just the minute movements of his wrists, caging you closer to take “the most accurate” measurements.

His breath is in your face, warm and minty as he places a finger at the tippy top of your head to pinpoint your height. You would think he’d have some sort of chart or goal sheet to jot these numbers down but he’s typing them into his phone instead, after all everything was online these days.

When he had your height he motioned for you to step on the scale, something you were a bit hesitant to do. “Don’t be fashed, bonnie. S’all part of the process.” You step up on the scale and after he takes a careful moment to be sure it’s settled he records your weight. You think it all might be over and you can go back to your workout when he says “Open.” You stare at him for a moment, dumbfounded and he waits patiently for you to comply.

“Open?” He grips you by the chin gently and taps his thumb against your lower lip, and your breath hitches at the gentle but intrusive gesture. “Open up.” You slowly part your lips and he smiles, his pretty blue eyes staring at your lips and you’re beyond flustered, thighs shifting uncomfortably. “Wider.” You do as he says, not sure how any of this is necessary but too far gone to stop now. “Good girl.”

He rocks your head from side to side, thoroughly examining your mouth, you feel his thumb apply pressure to your plush lower lip, drawing it down and you feel the saliva in your mouth gathering uncontrollably. The weight of it dips and you're backing away so as to not drool on his hand, your lower lip plopping back in place, but not before a drop of it collects on his thumb.

He looks you, unabashedly in the eye as he lifts his thumb to his lips and pushes the digit with your drool on it into his mouth. Your eyes are as big as saucers but without skipping a beat, and without recording any kind of data on that last test? Measurement? Examination of your mouth, he moves you over onto the treadmill and starts it up. He starts at a low speed and as the tread begins to move under your feet you have no choice but to move along with it.

It’s a walk, no sweat and you look over to see him watching your hips, his eyes flick up to yours and he leans forward and ups the speed. Now you’re at a light jog and you can no longer watch him directly. You hear him walking around the treadmill, alternating between being directly behind you and off to your side. He ups the speed again until you’re full on running, arms pumping as you try to keep up with the tread, you’re breathing quite heavily, chest heaving with each breath.

He turns it up again, just a notch but it’s past your limit and you’re struggling to keep up now, the heels of your feet nearly dangling over the end of the tread, you speak in between breaths, telling him you can’t keep up, it’s too fast. “Just a little more, hen. Keep goin’.” He’s behind you, you hope he’ll catch you if you come flying off the end, and just when you thought you would he comes up and hits the emergency stop and you feel the tread’s speed dwindle beneath your feet. When it stops you stand there, heart beating triple time in your chest, your arms gripping the arm rest until he comes up and makes you place them interlaced behind your head.

He says nothing while you recover, just plugs more data into his phone and when you’re better he looks up at you with cold assessing eyes, the baby blues icing over and chilling you. But then that smile resurfaces and they melt into pools of tropical blue and he speaks.

“Alright, lass. I'll do it.” And he just stands there not explaining until you ask. “Do what?” He laughs and it’s a gorgeous sound that still manages to unnerve you. “I’ll be your personal trainer.” You have a lot of questions and are about to voice them when he pulls you out of the room and has you following him again, talking the whole while.

“We’re gonna stretch your goals a bit. “Working on your cardio” isn’t exactly gonna cut it. We will work on your cardio, because trust me lass, it needs work.” You’re slightly offended at this, but he pushes right on through without soothing it. “But we are gonna get you in shape together. Dinnae worry, Johnny’s got a whole plan mapped out for ye already.” He takes you into a little cove by the front where a bunch of people are seated and drinking smoothies. This must be the smoothie artist you read about in the brochure. He walks up to the counter, bypassing the line and orders something you can hear from the table you sat down at. He’s handed two drinks and brings them over.

Handing one to you he sits across from you and when you don’t try it right off he sets authoritative eyes on you and deadpans in a no nonsense tone. “Drink.” You bring the straw to your lips and suck, which seems to please him and the fruit mixture that floats to your tongue is sweet and refreshing. “Now I want ye to do some homework for me when ye get home tonight. Two… nah. Make it three sets of sit-ups, two sets of toe touches and ten lunges.” You look at him and know that now is the time to tell him, you guess he just didn’t know or didn’t think to ask. “Johnny.” He looks up at you, eyes alight with excitement. “Yes, hen.”

“I’m only gonna be here for two weeks. I’m doing the free trial thing.” He keeps on staring like what you’ve said hasn’t registered and after a moment he adds. “And?” You thought it was clear but it seems you’ll have to go further. “I’m not sure I’ll be committing to coming back.” This is a lie. You know you can’t afford a membership and after your two weeks are up you simply couldn’t keep coming. But this seems to not matter in the slightest as he replies. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there, yeah? Til’ then three sets of sit ups, two sets of toe touches and ten lunges.”

You don’t know what to say so you just nod and he smiles and despite yourself you feel almost relieved to see it. “Good. Come in tomorrow at three and we’ll get started on yer first real workout.”

“But I don’t get off work til 4.” He smiles and knocks once on the table with his knuckles. “4:30 it is then. Don’t be late.” With that he stands and walks away, leaving you with a half finished smoothie and conflicting emotions.

Later that night after you found yourself compelled to at least finish the “homework” he’d assigned and after you’d repacked your gym bag with fresh clothes and climbed into bed, the image of him pushing his thumb into his mouth filled your head until you burned in bed like a torch. His pale blue eyes, dark hair, tan skin, all very conventionally attractive aspects of his features but there was more, a more secretive darker part of you that was drawn to the way he picked you out. Took notice of you immediately and coerced you into training under him, even after he knew you might not commit.

The burn of it became too much and you grabbed for the vibrator in your nightstand, coming at the thought of those strong arms hooked around your thighs and those pale blue eyes peering up at you from the junction of your thighs. At 4:30 the next day you found yourself in front of Baliquinox, gym bag in hand and nervous.

#soap x reader #twdubcon #john soap mctavish x reader #dark!soap #cod mw2 #cod x reader

[darlingdarkly]

New Year New You Part 6

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish x f!reader

Personal Trainer AU

4k words

CW: dubcon!, dark fic, dark content, obsessive behavior, dirty talk, explicit language, E rated, NSFW, smut, 18+, mature themes, alcohol consumption, use of drugs against one’s will

Part 1, 5, 7

It’s been five days of radio silence. You don’t show up the morning after your last session ended just to let Johnny know your free trial is up, although you do walk past the gym every morning before work, even though it’s eight blocks in the wrong direction and makes you leave thirty minutes earlier than you usually do.

You don’t text him and let him know that you won’t be coming in the next day or ever again for that matter, although you do start the text, writing and deleting and rewriting variations of the same “Hey Johnny, I just wanted to let you know-“ and “Johnny, I just wanted to text you and say-“ and also “Hey there, I’m just texting to tell you-“ All typed with bravado and deleted as your nerve deflates.

The one constant is your homework, you do still do that every night like clockwork, three sets of sit ups, two sets of toe touches, ten lunges and your stretches. Your soreness had ebbed after two days of rest and on the third day after you’d washed your dishes and sat down on the couch you had stared at the wall for ten uncomfortable minutes, fidgeting with your nails until you caved, moved the furniture out of the way and did your exercises, even if you couldn’t muster up the nerve to call him so he could watch.

Your days took on a blurring quality. Get up, go to work, go home, sleep, repeat. You felt the monotony settle over your days like a heavy dark blanket, it blotted out the sun and as though your disposition held any real world consequences, as if the very shift of your mood held sway over natures cosmic tides it started to rain and hadn’t stopped since the morning after you’d last seen him.

You were at work, typing away at a report when Nancy approached your desk. She sat down across from you, scooting the chair as close to the desk as her legs would allow and leaned in on her elbows until you finished your sentence and looked up at her, a bit dreary. She frowned and reached out across the desk to touch your hand. “Come to lunch with me.”

You looked back at your computer, the cursor blinking impatiently. “I can’t, I’ve gotta get this report done, I’m gonna work through lunch.” She tipped the monitor in her direction before scooting it back into place. “No you don’t, those reports are all old, I’ve got to send out the updated ones before you can type that report up, or else you’ll just have to do it all over again.”

Your brows furrowed as you reviewed your work. “What do you mean? These are all-.” As you looked back at her she was smiling and you couldn’t help but smile back. “Nancy.”

“Come to lunch with me.” She brooked no argument and you relented, saving your progress and following her out to her car. She unlocked it and you slid into the passenger seat, letting her carry you to the little cafe the pair of you hadn’t been to in ages but used to visit frequently.

You sat down at a little table close to the door and a tall skinny man brought you two menus and took your orders. Nancy also ordered two glasses of prosecco to go with the meal and you stared at her in disbelief as the waiter took the menus from you and walked away.

“Starting a little early today are we? You do plan on going back to work after this right?” She smiled and unrolled the napkin and bundle of utensils on the table in front of her. “Of course, one glass won’t kill you. Besides, you need it. You’ve been moping around the office all week.”

Just then the waiter came back with two flutes of wine and set one in front of each of you before turning away. Nancy picked hers up and brought it to her lips, taking a sip before setting it back down on the table in front of her and folding her hands in her lap. “Now tell me what’s going on.”

You picked the glass of wine up and took a sip, letting the sweet fruity juice marinate in your mouth before swallowing. It was good and you had to admit it made you feel better.

The alcohol helped to loosen your tongue and you found once you started you hadn’t stopped until your plate was set in front of you. Nancy sat across from you and watched as you unwrapped your own napkin and dug into your lunch. She picked up her fork, took a bite and thought everything over.

“You know what you need.” You reached out for another sip of wine and looked at her tentatively from across the table. “What?”

“You need to come out with me tonight.”

“No!”

“Yes!” You rolled your eyes and shook your head, the last thing you wanted was to go out. It always ended badly. Either you'd wake up in some strangers bed or you’d drink too much and wake up with a throbbing headache. You had to go to work in the morning and nursing a hangover at your cubicle at seven in the morning sounded like the exact opposite of what you needed.

“You need to let loose, live a little. Forget about him!” You didn’t want to let loose and live a little, and you certainly didn’t want to forget about him. He was so beyond anything you’ve experienced in so long, so intense and weird and you thought he might be a little crazy but he had said you were his and he was yours. But then why isn’t he texting you? Why isn’t he calling you? Hell, you wouldn’t be mad at him showing up at your house, you half expected him to be there when you didn’t show up for your session that next day. But he wasn’t.

Maybe Nance was right. Maybe you should forget it, forget him. Maybe your previous first impression was more on the money than you’d given it credit for, maybe he was only cozying up to you so you’d buy a membership. Maybe the sex was just more casual and meaningless than he made it out to be.

So you agreed, reluctantly, to go out. You didn’t promise you’d stay long or dance or even talk to anyone that wasn’t her but she agreed that as long as you were getting out then it was a step in the right direction.

You finished your lunch, downed the rest of your wine and left feeling a little better but still uneasy. It was hard to admit to yourself that maybe you’d let your guard down and fallen into some sort of infatuation with Johnny. He made you feel good, wanted, sexy. He hounded you like a dog for a bone and then when he got it he only seemed to want more and more, craving all of you relentlessly. He seemed so committed to you and your goals but maybe it was all just a clever ruse.

But that felt like one maybe too many so you went home after you clocked off with clear instructions from Nancy to be ready at eight. You cooked, showered and got ready, nothing too fancy but dressed up enough for wherever she might have planned. You looked yourself over in the mirror, putting on a few finishing touches when your hand came to rest on the Fitbit around your wrist.

You still had it, still wore it everyday, it was useful to help track your steps and it was an expensive gift to just let sit on your dresser and collect dust, you wouldn’t admit to even yourself that it felt a little like taking off a wedding ring so soon after a divorce, it would be absurd for you to have grown so attached to something material in just a weeks time but it stayed on your arm nonetheless. You switched out the band for the gold chain, dressing the high tech jewelry up and grabbed your purse as you heard the cab pull up outside, laying on its horn.

If she arranged for a cab then she really must have meant for the two of you to drink tonight. You raced down the stairs and slid into the seat of the cab as she drew the door open for you. “Are you ready for some fun?” You smiled and matched her energy but still felt wary about the whole thing. She leaned up and spoke to the driver before the cab pulled away from the curb and out into the night air. Nancy adjusted her makeup with a compact from her purse and you stewed in your thoughts as the buildings flew by out the window.

It had been awhile since you’d been out and you weren’t sure if you were ready for that kind of scene again, the crowds, the lights, the music. But before you could imagine the various elements of your future perils they were before you as the cab pulled up to a building pulsating with sound, a throng of people spread about the exterior talking, laughing, huddled close together in tight groups.

Nancy handed the cabbie a tip and stepped out onto the curb, pulling you out into the amber and pink neon light of the club. The ground shone bright with prisms of color, the rain slicked pavement mirroring the lights and creating a floor of brilliant light. You could feel the thump of the music even from outside and listened to it drastically increase in volume as a couple pushed open the door and stepped into the building, holding onto each other as they disappeared down the dark corridor and into the belly of the building.

You and Nancy pulled out your IDs and showed them off to the bouncer who gestures for you to pass. Pushing open the door Nancy pulled you into the dark hallway, the only light coming from a small window in the door behind you, it faded to nil as you traversed the passageway.

It curved and then was vibrantly lit by various entanglements of neon lights, the first set made a pair of hands, fingers interlocked, the second a half of a woman’s face, her neon eyes fierce and piercing. The third a fibonacci sequence, swirling ever inward upon itself. Passing down the corridor you could tell you were descending, the music getting louder and louder with each step.

Eventually there was a turn and radiating from the corner was a prism of bright, quickly changing light, the rays shifting from pink to gold to green. A fog began to build, a miasma of stale air, sweat and alcohol that burned your nose.

As you rounded the corner the music hit you like a physical wave, deafening in its volume. The lights, bright and strobing, illuminated the writhing bodies wall to wall, you’d entered the belly of the beast. Nancy tugged you by the arm up a set of stairs letting onto a balcony, it wrapped the length of the building on all sides, turning the floor below into a pit of life.

You weaved between the groups of people, brightly colored cups in their hands, their eyes ran over you as you invaded their spaces and passed, their pupils blown and dilated from more than just alcohol, sober they looked like strange monsters but after a few shots their outlines would begin to glow, golden and radiant and they’d appear as gods.

She stopped at the bar, packed with people all along the length and she had to muscle her way between bodies to get the bartender's attention. “Four shots of Bicardi.” You vaguely heard her yell over the noise of the house.

You survey the scene behind you, people passing back and forth, streaming up the balcony towards the bar bumped by people freshly hydrated and looking to dance headed to the floor. None of the faces are distinguishable, a blur of noses and eyes and lips, none catch your eye but you’re still not looking for any interaction, if the most you can do tonight is let loose and dance with Nancy then that’s fine by you.

She turns around behind you, four shots held delicately between outstretched fingers as she tries to maneuver away from the bar. You grab two shots from her hands and she thanks you, motioning with a roll of her shoulder for you to follow her. You follow at her back, a shot in each hand as she finds a deserted table. There’s half empty drinks spread over the top but the booths are empty, which means the people who previously occupied it are feeling good and more than likely down in the pit sweating it off.

She sets the shots down and you follow suit, slumping for a moment into the booth. She sat opposite of you and passed you a shot with a sly grin. “This’ll help.” You took it, eyeing up the clear liquid, knowing it will burn, anticipating it as the saliva built up in your mouth from muscle memory.

You looked up from the tiny glass to meet her eyes, they held yours as she brought it up to her lips and tipped it back, a loud crisp “Ahhhh” resounding from her as she brought the empty shot glass down with a bang on the table. She beamed, the picture of a woman in paradise beckoning you to join her, free of responsibilities, free of pain. Take the shot, join me in paradise.

You did. Picking the shot glass up and downing it, the liquid hardly touched your mouth, barreling straight for your throat, it was sweet and spicy and it burned. Your mouth refilled with saliva, chasing the harsh juice down your throat. As you set the empty shot glass down she was picking up the second, in for a penny, in for a pound. You grabbed for your second shot, lifting it with a smile as you felt your bad mood slip to the back of your mind. You’re out, you’re here, might as well enjoy it. You swallowed the second dose of rum, feeling it burn and not minding so much the second time around.

She scooted out of the booth and grabbed for your hand, you came willingly. She bustled through the crowd hell bent for the floor. The song changed, you didn’t know it but it didn’t take long to pick up on the rhythm as you made it to the edge of the mass and penetrated its ranks.

It was a much tighter fit than weaving through the bar crowd. Bodies pressed up against each other, moving in time with the music. Wandering hands found grinding hips, one press of silhouette shifted into the press of another until they became indistinguishable, you could be dancing with one person of four simultaneously. You kept hold of Nance as she slipped through the crowd and into the middle of the floor.

Satisfied with her depth she turned to you and grabbed your hands, pulling you through the last of the crowd into her space. It was safe and you felt at ease, joining hands with her and dancing without care. Why had it been so long since you’d done this? Why did you always have to fight it? It was better when you could just move, move and forget.

You don’t know how long you stayed like that, dancing in carefree bliss. You felt invigorated and alive. You felt a body at your back, not Nancy, she was still in front of you plus this body, molding itself to your back was strong and hard, the hair on the back of your neck stood up, you held your breath as you spun around, expecting very familiar brilliant baby blues but they settled on eyes as green as deep forest moss and even under the potent haze of your buzz you felt your heart sink a little.

The man currently getting physical with you was dark haired and handsome. Strong jawline, stubbled and his green eyes held yours intensely. This wasn’t an accidental bump on a crowded floor, this was a come on.

You turn back to Nancy for help only to see an exact mirror of the man behind you, behind her. Her eyes are cast over her shoulder as the man slides up close to press her back against him and she seems to melt into his touch. When her eyes turn back to yours, they’re excited and you know she’d be no help.

The men simultaneously bend down to whisper in your respective ears, you see the one behind Nancy and know it’s mimicked by the loud deep whisper you hear from behind your own ear. Twins, oh boy.

“Hey there gorgeous, I’m Andrew.” The accent is exotic, from somewhere you can’t place or even point out on a map if you tried but it’s deep and rumbly and if it weren’t for your current predicament it would have been very appealing. Nancy grabs your hand and pulls you forward to speak where you could hear over the music.

“They’re twins.” You could hear the excitement in her voice, there was no way she was letting one or both of these guys slip out of her grasp. “I don’t know Nance.”

She pouted, lip stuck out and all. “Come on. Let’s just see where it goes. Free drinks.” You knew she’d get her way in the end so you went along with it, letting them lead both of you back up the stairs towards the bar. They ordered in front of you a set of four shots and you picked them up directly from the bar, wasting no time in tipping them back.

Nancy was already giggling at whatever her twin was whispering sweetly into her ear but you were still resisting the charms of yours, you had said you weren’t looking to talk to anyone and you really meant it. After a few attempts he noticed you weren’t picking up on his advances and so he did something you really hadn’t expected.

“Look, I can tell you’re not interested so how about we start over as friends. Hi, I’m Andrew.” You looked up at him, trying to get a read. His eyes held no malicious intent and he had a genuine smile on his face so you took him at face value and gave him your name.

The four of you spent a good chunk of time in an open booth talking and getting to know each other, it was actually a good time and the guy who’d originally strided up to you on the dance floor kept his word and didn’t try anything once you started to open up a bit.

The four of you were very intoxicated at this point and you had long forgotten the pit, much preferring to stay upstairs. One of the twins was regaling a tale of how he and his brother nearly died sneakily train hopping through Europe when they had just turned eighteen.

It was a hilarious story, all of you in various fits of giggles, even Ian, Nancy’s twin and the one telling the story, couldn’t keep a straight face as he talked. You were coming off a fit of giggles when your full bladder made its presence known. You excused yourself from the group to take care of it, coming down onto the dance floor and heading for the bathrooms. You really had no idea where they were but you thought the front of the house was the best place to start.

As you traversed the club you realized you really were intoxicated, stumbling as someone bumped into you and struggling to regain your balance, swaying dangerously like a man on the bow of a turbulent ship.

You grabbed the wall to right yourself and stared up at the first set of neon art on the way towards the door. The Fibonacci sequence of lights, natural patterns in bright fluorescence, now more mesmerizing than it had been on the way inside. You don’t know how long you were there staring before the urge to pee made itself known again.

You made your way up the hallway and finally found the bathroom. It was pretty busy there, girls adjusting their hair and makeup, talking, laughing. One girl was crying surrounded by a group of her friends who were doing their best to console her. You found an empty stall and went in, locking the door and doing your business, listening to the chatter as you relieved yourself.

When you were done you came out and the group of girls had vacated the room, leaving an open sink. You came up and began to wash your hands, taking a little longer than normal because of your inebriated state. You dried off and checked yourself over in the mirror, your eyes drifted to the jewelry on your wrist and you became lost in your thoughts.

Johnny came to the forefront of your mind and you saw yourself frown in the mirror without even realizing you were doing it. You dropped your gaze from the reflection and elected to stare down at the sink instead. You felt oddly ashamed about these thoughts, you shouldn’t be thinking about him, you’re out and having fun and there’s a guy, who seems like genuinely a really nice guy who is interested in you and that should be what you’re focused on.

Only that it wasn’t. It was the stupid watch! Why had you worn it out? Why were you still wearing it? You turned your wrist over and fumbled with the clasp until it fell loose into your open palm. You opened your clutch and dropped it inside. Feeling better but not great, you came out of the bathroom and made your way back to the table, mood ruined. You engaged as much as necessary in conversation but now that you’d thought of him, he wouldn’t go away. There were another round of shots and a decree from the twins to go back to the dance floor. You followed and watched as Nancy got very physical now with Ian, and Andrew found a new girl in the crowd to turn the charm on for.

You danced in the crowd, trying to re-find that carefree girl you’d been pre-bathroom break. You let your body move to the sound, closing your eyes and just feeling. When you re-opened them you saw him, he was a couple of heads up, dark hair and broad shoulders, those baby blues unmistakable, only there seemed to be four of him instead of one.

You went towards him, it was your first instinct and you did it without thinking about it, slinking your way through the dancing forms, pushing past arms and backs until you thought you were about where you’d seen him. There was a man here but it wasn’t him, just a guy who was the same height with dark hair, his eyes weren’t even blue, they were brown.

Boy you really must have had too much to drink. You looked around, searching the crowd for Nancy and the twins but you couldn’t see them anymore, you tried tracing your way back to where you’d been but only got lost more. As you turned there was a rush of air to your face, little flecks of something hit your skin, a chemical smell filled your nose.

The following moments descended into a memory slush, just fragments of reality that didn’t make any sense. Lights, loud music, movement. There were hands on your shoulders, strong, warm. Glimpses of light, green, blue, gold. The neon woman with her piercing eyes, she judged you from her place upon the wall. Her judgment was final, her sentence was sleep and the world went dark around you.

#cod #call of duty #cod mw2 #john soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #cod x reader #johnny soap mctavish x reader #cod soap #twdubcon #dark!johnny #john soap mctavish x reader #soap x reader

[darlingdarkly]

While I carefully craft part 5 here is a little snippet that I can’t seem to find a proper fit for in the story itself but I love too much to keep all to myself. Call it 4.5 if you will 💕

You come into the lobby and just like clockwork he’s there, shining teeth and bright baby blues. There’s a glint in them you’ve seen before and the part of you that remembers the consequences of said glint is yelling at you from its place buried in the back gray matter of your brain that he’s up to something. You can’t immediately see anything out of ordinary just him and what looks like a protein shake in his hand, nothing unusual.

He takes your bag from you and thrusts the blender cup into your hands. You look down at it, the top is covered with an opaque black lid and while the cup itself is semi see through, it’s frosted which means all you can really tell from the outside is that it’s about three quarters of the way full and the liquid inside is a creamy white.

“What’s this Johnny?” He smiles at you, one that is probably meant to put you at ease but still has your wind up, way up. “It’s a protein shake, hen. Made it me’self. S’gonna get ye into gear and get yer blood pumping, gonna push ye nice and hard today so ah figured ye needed a bit of a boost. Drink.”

He doesn’t give you time to protest just takes it from your hands and puts the straw up to your mouth, you give him one last cautionary look and take the straw between your lips, warily. He watches intently as you suck on the tip and the cold, creamy mixture pours over your tongue. It’s sweet and admittedly delicious, there’s a salty undertone you can’t quite place but otherwise is quite enjoyable.

You moan a little as it rolls into your mouth and down the back of your throat and you swear you almost see his knees buckle underneath him. You pull away, still wary of whatever antics you’re sure he’s still up to. “You ok?” He nods, a nonverbal communication that is very uncharacteristic of him but you let it slide and suck down more of his protein drink.

“Johnny, what’s in this?” He smiles and pulls you into his side as he walks you further into the building. “Bananas, milk, a bit of whey. Do ye like it?” You nod and scrunch your nose up a little. “It’s a bit salty though, is that like sea salt caramel or something?”

His eyes light up, like he’s just had a brilliant idea and agrees. “Aye lass, sea salt caramel. Do ye feel it working, energizing ye?” Maybe it’s just all the sugar but you do feel something, a kind of rush zinging through you.

“Yeah. I like it, it’s good. Can you give me the recipe, I wanna make it before I go to work so I can start my day with it.” He seems a bit dumbfounded at this but quickly stutters forth an answer, something that should have concerned you but you let it pass without so much as another accusatory glance.

“Jus’ let me make ‘em for ye hen. The ingredients are hard tae find and can be a bit tedious tae make.” You just shrug and take your gym bag from him. He watches you disappear into the women’s locker room, humming a little as you sip deeply from the straw and get another big gulp of his very special protein shake. Made with Bananas, milk, a bit of whey and his cum.

#johnny soap mctavish x reader #call of duty #cod #cod mw2 #john soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #cod soap #cod x reader #twdubcon #dark!johnny #dark!fic #johnny mactavish

[darlingdarkly]

Fates Worse Than Death part 3

Deimos x f!reader noncon Enemies to Lovers

5.6k words

CW: noncon!elements, dubcon!elements, electrocution (non sexual), bondage, unprotected climactic pnv intercourse, threats of forced impreg, breeding kink

Part: 1, 2, 4

It was early when he left, Reveille hadn’t even blared its siren song to give rise to the base and its inhabitants. It was almost dreamlike in the way he came to you, soft and sweet in pulling you from the depths of your slumber. He left your mask on and you were grateful for it, without your sight it was easier to let the roles slip, just take it as it presented itself without the clouded lenses of your predicament.

So when he leaned down and lightly shook you awake you came up gently as the cot dipped to accommodate his weight. “I’m going, sugarcane.” You groaned and when you spoke, voice sleep strained and groggy and he saw your arms strain against the straps as you attempted to lift up and touch him made him wish to call the whole thing off, who gave a shit about meetings when he could just undo your straps, pick you up bridal style and carry you over to his bed where you belonged, lay in bed all day and make love to you over and over and over.

But it’s easy to forget the kitten has claws when she’s like this, it’d do not to forget she’s not as docile as she presents. “What time is it?” His fingers trail up your arm, the gloved pads of his digits swirling nonsensical patterns on your warm skin. “Early. 4:30. You can go back to sleep, I’ve arranged for someone to come in and help you out of your restraints and feed you, you’ll be staying up here until I return. I’ve got a surprise lined up for you later today.” He stops speaking and you feel one glove come up and smooth your hair, his thumb sweeping back and forth over the errant strands on your forehead.

“Be good for me.” You almost wish you could be but you won’t and deep down you both know you have to play the game so he says it and he means it but it doesn’t mean he believes you when you say you will. He spends a few more fleeting moments lingering in this early morning light, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your temple, one that cut through all the bullshit and made its way to the core. It was a message, a last plea, stay, be good, I know this is fucked but it could work couldn’t it? We both feel this, behind the roles and twisted implications, who gives a fuck how it started?

Then he was gone and you drifted off until Reveille woke up an entirely different woman than Deimos had kissed on his way out the door. A few minutes later someone entered the room and pulled the mask from your eyes. It was short and stocky and he looked as pissed off to see you as you were to see him. Obviously though, Deimos had had some sort of chat with him about his manners because he was on his best behavior as he carefully undid your straps.

It wasn’t time yet so you stayed compliant, sitting up on the cot and waiting for him to back away before standing and heading for the bathroom. He didn’t watch you like Deimos had as you showered but he was right outside of the door and frisked you a bit too thoroughly as you stepped out, dressed and ready for the day.

He left the room and you alone in it as he went to get breakfast for you. It was the first time you really got a good look at your surroundings. The room was double big, like it was really two rooms where the wall separating them had been knocked down. The walls were papered in deep red scroll and his bed took up the center of his section of the room. There wasn’t much else to speak of, a few dressers and a wardrobe against the far wall, a desk with a few pens in a cup on its mahogany surface. Your section of the room was even barer, just your cot and four empty walls, though they were also papered in dark red scroll.

It wasn’t long before short and stocky came back, tray in hand as he plopped it unceremoniously on the desk in Deimos’s section of the room, it didn’t topple over but the contents spilled out of their sections into each other and the juice you were meant to drink knocked over and spilled out over the wood. He looked you dead in the eye before turning and leaving.

You were glad for the way things turned out later on. You stood from the cot and made your way over to the desk, while the juice was off the table (more like all over the table) the food was still edible and after retrieving a towel from the cabinet in the bathroom and cleaning up his mess, you ate everything eagerly, you’d need every bit of it to escape. When you’d finished you knocked on the door and he came back to retrieve the tray.

“Good, you cleaned up your mess. Good to know he’s teaching you something useful other than how to take his cock.” You don’t even bother with a response, let it sink into your skin, you’ll get your licks back and they’ll be far more rewarding as actions rather than words. He isn’t quite done yet though.

“What? Nothing to say? You’re no spitfire. Whatever he sees in you is bullshit and he’ll know it soon and when he does I hope he lets me pull the trigger on you. I wanna watch the life drain from your eyes as I’m the last thing you see.” That seems to satisfy him and he leaves believing he’s the one on the high note. That's fine, let him. The morning passes slow and you try to retrace the plan in your brain, check it once, twice, three times for flaws. There is no alternative, no plan B. If this didn’t pan out your way, if anything went wrong, your goose was cooked.

It wasn’t until after lunch that you decided Deimos was probably far enough away that if something went awry it would at least take him some time to get back, enough time for you to get far enough away to have a chance at disappearing. You could link back up with rainbow after you’d meshed into the closest population dense city. Short and stocky had just left with your empty lunch tray as you bent down and pulled your paper clip free from its shoe home and unbent it to turn it into a shabby but functional lock pick. The outer doors of the facility were far too heavy duty for your little makeshift tool, but the door out of this room was all you needed unlocked for your escape.

You got up off the bed and walked to the solid wooden door, pressing your ear up against it to hear any activity on the other side. It was silent and still as far as you could tell so you bent down and set to work, carefully raking the paper clip around inside the lock mechanism to try and jostle the tumblers. It was a slow, tedious process but after a few minutes work the lock clicked and the knob turned freely.

You stepped cautiously out of the doorway and out into the hall. Short and stocky stood at the top of the stairs with his back to you, this was your chance. You strode forward with careful purpose, trying to stay as quiet as possible while moving as quickly as you could, if he saw you now it’d be a fight and one you’d probably lose.

He started to turn and you took the last few strides in a run, the element of surprise nearly lost as you pushed him with all your body weight and watched almost in slow-mo as he careened over the edge of the stairs, arms pinwheeling to prevent his fall but it was no use.

His side made first contact with the concrete stairs, producing four audible, gut wrenching cracks that seared white hot pain up his spine and knocked the air from his lungs. He continued to tumble, rolling over once, twice, and landing awkwardly on his right forearm at an acute angle. It’s there he heard another pop as his arm took the brunt of the fall and he landed in an agitated heap, screaming mad and hell bent on killing you when he got to his feet.

But before he could you were on him, the last thing he saw was your fist coming down on his temple, ironically knocking him out the very same way he’d threatened on the night of your capture and then all went dark.

You had to act quickly now, it was possible someone could have heard the commotion or would come up here for anything at any time so you stepped over him and raced down the last three flights of stairs and carefully made your way across the sky deck, head once again bent between your knees.

Entering the main building you had to act quickly, it was imperative that you avoided being seen until you changed, you were the only person on base wearing a skin tight jumpsuit and everyone would know you’d escaped upon first glance. Ducking into a particular side room you’d eyed the last time you’d made this trek with Deimos, you found what you were looking for.

It was an old supply room, dusty and mostly unused it was full of stores of toilet paper and cleaning supplies, a stack of desks, a few empty filing cabinets and what you came here for. In a box on the floor, a sight you gazed upon by chance after a soldier stepped in for a rack of toilet paper as you were passing by and stored away for this particular moment, was a pile of old uniforms. They were musty and it took you three separate sets to find ones that weren’t either covered in mildew or faded and the ones you finally settled on were about two sizes too big but they’d do.

You slipped them on over your clothes, you couldn’t risk another soldier dipping in for toilet paper and wanted to leave as soon as possible to avoid either short and stocky waking up or someone coming across him. This was a mistake you came to regret later, but hindsight is always 20/20.

You strode out of the supply closet in no rush, a patrol cap pulled down low over your eyes as you casually but briskly made your way towards the doors of the facility. You depressed the bar on one of the heavy metal doors and pushed out into the warm air. You surveyed the outer compound with scrutiny and found everyone tucked into tight groups, no lone wolves, which meant if you were going to get out of here without being singled out immediately you had to blend.

You spotted a set of soldiers by the gate, rifles in hand and more than likely headed for the gun range you’d heard but never had seen. You walked out with purpose and snagged two empty ammo cans from a stack by the wall and stuck yourself in the group, making sure to linger around the back so as not to draw too much unwanted attention.

The platoon leader called attention and you snapped to, the action just as much instinct as it was disguise. When he calls forward march you begin to move, keeping pace with the group and keeping your head down. You pass under the gate with the weight of nervous anticipation balancing precariously on your shoulders, expecting at any moment the call to halt from above but it never came and you marched out past it and onto a trail through the woods without hiccup.

When the gates were too far back and concealed by foliage to see you dropped off from the group, simply sliding behind a tree until their footfalls became too distant to hear. You left the ammo cans behind and sprinted out into the trees. From what you could remember there was nothing for miles around, just endless forest but you knew there was a little town about twenty miles south and if you could keep up a relative jog you could make it there just after nightfall.

You took a few glances back to make sure you weren’t being trailed but all you could see was empty forest. Your heart pounded with excitement but you knew better than to let it get the better of you, there was still much danger ahead and endless-

Your muscles locked up violently, legs stopping mid step and freezing as white hot pain zapped down your neck, coursing through your spine and consuming you from within. You called out involuntarily, a guttural pained scream that started and seemed to never end until all your breath was expelled and it died out in a hoarse croak. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t stand, couldn’t move and you heard the wail of a siren sound back in the direction of the base.

You stretched an arm out in the direction of safety, willing your body to crawl towards it with the last of your might, but it stayed put in stubborn defiance. The sight of the pines swaying in the wind, their dark green needles seeming to reach out for you was the last thing you saw before darkness stole over you.

When you wake it’s like waking in a dream, a dream you've dreamt before, fundamentally the same but different slightly. The pain is back, though then it was head driven, a throb radiating almost solely from your cranium but this is different. This feels like static but everywhere. Your nerves are shot to shit, jittery and fried, your fingers and toes tingle and there’s a metallic taste in your mouth.

You try to take in your surroundings when the feeling finally subsides a bit, fading out from forefront surround sound until it’s just background noise at best, though it still roars in and out of focus. It’s the same room you’d woken up in the night you were captured, only this time instead of tied kneeling to a padded platform you’re tied to a table, face up and completely naked, arms hoisted up past your head and secured to the northern legs of the table. Your body is stretched out across the top, eyes up skyward looking at the dingy ceiling. Your legs are spread, each tied to a seperate southern table leg to keep them that way, your ass is pulled to the edge of the table and as you crane your head south you can see him watching you from between your spread legs.

It was you who broke the silence first. “We can’t keep meeting like this.” He comes up and stands between your legs and he makes it obvious by the crane of his head that his eyes are trailing up every inch of your body, taking in the sights and landmarks along the path to your eyes before he even speaks.

“Cute. You think now's the time for jokes, eh?” You try to not think about what comes next. You’re naked, which means you’re probably not going to die just yet but it doesn’t mean he won't cut you down at any time past this point, maybe he was just waiting for you to be awake. Your only solace is that short and stocky won’t get to pull the trigger on you, you made sure of that.

“Just couldn’t be good for me, could you?” You flinch as his hand glides up your thighs to palm your hip, the padding gripping the flesh rather roughly. “What did you expect?” And he can’t help but feel pride under all the disappointment because you’re still cocky and fierce as all hell even tied to a table and completely at his mercy, and there’s something in that that makes his combat pants just a bit too snug for his liking.

“Not for you to put Vasquez in the infirmary with four cracked ribs and a fractured ulna.” You scoffed. “If I disappointed you then I’m soooo sorry but one thing I’m not sorry for is anything that happened to that fucking asshole, he got what he deserved and you’re lucky he’s in the hospital and not the morgue.”

“Don’t be sarcastic with me. You’re already in deep fucking shit.” And his use of curse words make you flinch, you can only recall a handful of times he’d cursed and never had he done it in anger but it doesn’t change anything. If he was pissed off then good, so were you.

“The shock collar was a low blow. Kinda barbaric don’t you think?”

“Worked though, didn’t it? I knew you’d run eventually. It’s ok, I’m not mad. It’s only in your nature.” The way he says it piques something in the back of your mind but he glosses right over it, almost like he’s speaking to himself.

“It did cut my meeting short but that really could have been an email anyway. But you know terrorist organizations, always wary of the digital footprint. You’re not off the hook though. Violent outbursts, escape attempts, lies. Ohh you’ve got a lot to atone for.” He gave your hip a painful squeeze but you held your tongue against the groan it threatened to elicit. When he stopped you felt it safe to speak.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” He moves away from you and somehow feel less secure with him wandering about the room than if he’d stood put beside you. You vaguely hear the shuffle of papers and your heart stops when you hear him call out your full name.

“Standard checkups, vaccination records, routine physicals, psych evals, two hospitalizations, one for an apparent appendectomy the other outpatient surgery for the removal of shrapnel from your abdomen and left thigh.” You tensed as he read you your medical file and your breath hitched as he called out the last procedure on the list.

“Ahhh and last but not least an IUD procedure completed just two months ago.” You started to get angry, the familiar heat of it almost comforting. Almost.

“You scalped my file?!”

“You’re not the only one with friends in low places, sweetheart.”

You considered it momentarily but was still unsure what it changed or why it mattered. “So what? It’s not a pill, I didn’t lie to you I just withheld some truth, what the fucks it matter?”

“So what is you didnt fucking tell me.” And there was the cursing again and this time it was punctuated with a loud bang as he drove his fist into the metal table your file had been resting on. You’re unsure why he’s angry, could he really believe you had some kind of rapport? It seemed like he did, and maybe that’s when it all snaps into place for you, this isn’t some elaborate psychological tactic, it’s not a ruse. He genuinely is keeping you just to have you for himself and it's then you realize you won’t die, there’s never been any danger of death. He’s not keeping you out of spite, you can’t annoy him enough to end you. It doesn’t matter how many times you run away he will drag you back to heel like some kind of wild dog because he’s just insane enough to try and tame you.

“So now.. I have to figure out what to do with you.” He walks back towards you and you can feel his eyes on you, making your skin erupt with gooseflesh, he walks up the side of the table and brushes the side of your face with the palm of his hand, lightly cupping it. You stare up into the obsidian lenses of his mask, unsure how to act. You can’t see his eyes but just know somehow past those black panes he’s staring down at you so tenderly and the weight of that fact sits uncomfortably on your chest.

After a moment he speaks again. “Since you’re so desperate for release, you’ll get none. I need you to understand your actions have consequences and I will see to it personally that you learn.”

After a moment you understand he means to fuck you again and shortly after that the innuendo dawns on you as well and you just laugh. “What the fuck makes you think I’ll do anything you say?”

“You want incentive? How about if you’re good and you take your punishment like a good girl, I’ll see to it that you get some training, opportunities to stretch your legs a bit? Obviously you’re restless, pent up animalistic tendencies, I can understand that. If you’re good, I’ll make it happen.”

The fucking audacity of him to think you’ll accept treats for parlor tricks. Like some kind of dog you’ll just roll over for belly pats. “Screw you! You bastard! Let me fucking go!”

And then his hand goes from stroking your cheek to gripping it, the thumb digging into the soft flesh of your cheek while the rest of his fingers line your jaw, pursing your lips together and preventing any more lip.

“Not enough for ya? You wanna act like a brat? Fine. How about this? Either you do as I say or I’ll take you down to the infirmary. The IUD procedure is simple enough and so is the removal.”

Your eyes widen and even through the grip he’s got on your maw you threaten him, eyes burning up at him like hot coals. He can feel the heat. “You wouldn’t fucking dare.”

“Ohh, I think you’d be surprised at the things I’d dare. If I feel you so much as twitch around my cock I’ll have them take it out and then we’ll see about starting our own little family together, huh? I’ve always wanted to be a dad but have just never found the time to get around to it, better late than never though, right? I mean, surely you’re confident enough in your fertility to justify the need for protection, I’m sure you’ll make a fine mother. Whaddaya say, sugarcane? How’s your maternal instincts?”

You struggle in the bonds and slip out of his grip, pulling viciously at the ropes but they just cut harder into your skin, the harsh woven fibers biting voraciously into your flesh. “No! Don’t you fucking dare!”

He regains purchase, this time around your throat and he can feel your pulse beating wildly, even through his glove. “Then do as I say.”

You stop struggling, for one because the ropes feel like they’re starting to draw blood and two because he’s let you go in favor of drawing down towards the southern end of the table. Fingers tracing lightly down your side and then back up the other until his fingers skim along the soft length of your inner thighs and you’re left hanging in anticipation as he spreads your thighs further apart to slot himself between them as they travel higher and higher.

The pads of his fingers find your clit and press ever so slightly over the bundle of nerves, drawing lazy circles over it and you can’t help the tensing of your muscles, the way your eyes squeeze shut as you fight the sensation. He plays with it, unrelenting until your arousal starts to well up around the edges of your slit, his fingers drawing down to gather it and spread it generously around.

You inhale sharply as your nipples pebble, hard and aching to be touched. He notices and brings the hand not driving you slowly into madness up to pinch one and roll it between his index and thumb. Your back arches and his fingers leave your breast to encircle your neck, squeezing the sides lightly to capture your attention.

When your eyes fall on him he speaks, and you can hear the apparent arousal in the gravel of his voice, hear the way his eagerness bleeds through, pining to have you again. “Show me you can practice restraint. Show me your self discipline. Don't disappoint me, soldier.”

His fingers push into you slightly for the first time and the edges of your vision blur as your mouth falls open at the dubiously welcomed intrusion. You didn’t need to see his eyes to know they were locked on yours watching your reactions with careful scrutiny. “Be good for me.”

He pulls out just as fast as he’d pushed in and then he’s gone for a moment, you hear him easing out of his tac pants just enough to pull his cock free and you close your eyes, willing your mind to relax and resist. But when he nudges up to you with the head of his cock, flicking it through the part of your sex and coating it in your slick heat you wonder just how much resolve you have in you.

He leans down over you as he pushes into you in one fluid thrust and you moan with him, unable to stifle it, the sweet ache intoxicating. “Fuck.”

He doesn’t give you time to adjust or catch your breath, just uses you with little to no care for how you fare it. His thrusts even out into a steady rhythm as his hands find purchase on the table you’re tied to and something about feeling him thrust up into you without any other contact, the push and pull of his cock without the feel of his hands on you has your eyes rolling back in your head until you have to squeeze them shut to try and regain the reins of your sanity.

You try and weather the storm, really try to focus on anything other than the devastating drive of his hips but it’s almost impossible. And then you feel his thumb over your clit again and your eyes fly open as the sensation makes you clench around him involuntarily, your arms pull at the ropes, desperate to push his hands away because if he keeps it up you’re not gonna make it.

And then he starts to speak. “You did this to us. Could’ve come back and taken my time with you, could’ve been good and I’d have spent all night just like this, fucked you good and raw til you screamed my name but you had to try. Had to test my patience.”

You try and block out the words, shake your head back and forth to try and not hear him but you can’t and it just adds fuel to the flame and he notices but doesn’t relent. He can tell by the shake of your thighs and the way you’re digging your nails into the palms of your own hands that you’re struggling to cope. He picks up speed a bit and your mouth drops open, prompting a sweet low moan to escape and he wishes he’d blindfolded you before he started because all he wants to do is drink up every single sound before it has a chance to leave your throat, swallow them down to keep them all to himself.

You’re gripping him so sweetly, the clutch of your pussy unlike anything he’d felt in a long, long time and he’d be damned if he’d give you up now. There’s not a thing on this planet that could separate the two of you, not even you. He’d love to see you try, really truly try to keep him from you. He’d never stop, never stop clawing his way back into your life no matter how hard you ran. He’d always find you, in this life and the next.

He can feel it too, the effect he’s having on you. He can feel it in the way your pussy clenches around him, can hear it in your back talk and banter, he knows you’re doomed, even if you don’t and he’s gonna enjoy every second of your downfall, every little slip of your grasp of sanity and reality until the only thing left is him.

His thrusts get particularly heavy, hips punctuating his point as he growls down from above you. “You will be mine.” You’ve lost, you know it. You try and fight it but he’s hitting it so good, cock dragging over that spot that makes your toes curl, there’s no escape and no relief and he knows just what he’s doing. Can feel your ruination coming to fruition and you’re so fucked.

You want to beg, beg him for forgviness, beg him for mercy but you can’t, it’ll just fall on deaf ears and something about it is just too compromising for your pride. Why should you let him know he’s getting to you? Why should you have to kneel at his feet? You’re supposed to be a warrior, a force to be reckoned with, an oddity among women and men for that matter but you’re so fucking close and he knows it and it’s killing you.

“Is it hard, sugarcane? Bet you’re so fucking close. Bet you wanna come for me don’t you?” And he leans in close, pelvis grinding down against you as he keeps up your ruination. His tall frame dwarfs yours and you sigh in relief as his hand finally ceases its assault on your clit to come up and seat itself against the back of your neck, pulling your head up and drawing your forehead against his as his other hand abandons the table for a grip on your hip, pulling you down against him as he thrusts up into you, making the sensation just that much more unbearable, making you cry out just that much louder. He dips down to whisper close against your lips, like he’s about to impart some great secret and he doesn’t want to risk allowing the rest of the room to hear it, empty or not, the shell of his mask so, so close.

“Do it. Let me make you mine in the most ultimate of ways. I’ll take such good care of you and the baby, I swear. Come for me and we’ll start all over.”

You’re quite nearly delirious, holding onto the last of your resolve with bloody fingers. It takes everything in you not to come around his cock, the way it fills you completely, hot and hard is going to be the death of you, or rather the birth of a new you but you can’t. You can’t bare this monsters offspring, he’s a goddamn terrorist for fucks sake and so you hold off until you feel you’re ripping apart at the seams.

You want to succeed but it’s slipping and you’d almost given in to the defeat when he finally comes, you feel it, thick and heavy in you and by god’s mercy he stills and you sob with relief. Chest heaving as your pussy spasms in protest around him. Sweat and tears streak your face as you let out shaky breaths to try and regain your composure. He pulls out and rubs his hands up your body, starting at your hips and gliding up your sides until he’s working at the knot holding your hands above your head.

You feel the ropes loosen but are too overwhelmed to do more than shift them down a bit to alleviate the ache in your shoulders. He says nothing as he comes around the side of the table and scoops you up off of it, pulling you into his chest and cradling you close. You can’t fight him, don’t have the strength so you just rest your head against him and let him carry you all the way out the door.

You shift to get comfortable in his arms as he makes two lefts, and then a right. Closing your eyes and breathing deeply as he climbs two flights of stairs and crosses the sky deck. Burying your head in his chest while he mounts the last four flights before you feel him gently deposit you onto a surface far too comfortable to be the cot.

Only then do you look up at your surroundings. “Bet you didn’t even stay long enough to see my surprise, did you?” His surprise is a queen sized bed, since you’ve been gone it’s been brought in, assembled and made. While it’s nothing fancy, having been carefully checked over with a fine toothed comb for anything that could aid you in another escape attempt, it was very lavish for someone being held prisoner, though you know he doesn’t exactly see you as that even if you still do.

There’s an awkward moment where neither of you knows quite what to say, for some bizarre reason you can’t explain there’s an apology waiting on the tip of your tongue. You won’t say it but it doesn’t mean it’s not there. He reaches up past your head to the metal headboard and pulls down a new set of restraints, they’re long and give you a bit of range as to how much you can move but they’re still restraints.

After you put on another white tee from the seemingly endless supply he has for you, he takes your hands and silently puts on the leather cuffs, securing them. His touch lingers on your wrists even after he’s finished and you feel like he’s about to say something but he doesn’t, just pulls your mask from its place and pulls it down over your eyes. You lie back and get comfortable as he moves away from the bed and undresses.

You listen to the familiar sounds of him sliding into bed and then the room stills and you drift off, until Reveille wakes you in the morn.

#dead dove do not eat #dead dove fic #darkfic #tw dark themes #tw noncon #tw dark content #twdubcon #deimos x reader #r6s deimos #Deimos smut #r6s deimos x you #r6s deimos smut #r6s x reader #rainbow six siege

[darlingdarkly]

Fates Worse Than Death part 4

Deimos x f!reader Noncon Enemies to Lovers

6k words

CW: noncon!elements, dubcon!elements, unprotected pnv climactic intercourse, outdoor sex, chase kink

Part: 1, 3

You expect to be locked up. Caged, enclosed, tied down and forget about the key, it no longer exists. But when you wake up that next morning from a deep restful sleep, courtesy of your extremely comfortable new mattress, and he carefully undoes your restraints you realize that won’t be the case. He walks away from you, already showered, dressed and ready for the day.

When he turns and realizes you haven’t followed him towards the bathroom for your shower he speaks. “Are you going to get up or lay in bed all day?” He asks like you have a choice. “For what? To take a shower just so I can come back and get re-tied down? Or are you just coaxing me into getting up so you can move me to a proper cell?”

“You’re only a prisoner in your mind. Now come on or our breakfast is gonna get cold.” Yeah fucking right, you think. He turns away once more and you exclaim your retort to his back. “The restraints I sleep in beg to differ!”

He doesn’t turn back in your direction, just calls back at you from over his shoulder. “Those restraints keep you from slitting my throat in the middle of the night. Something I’m sure you’ve fantasized about more than once.” He’s not wrong. “When you can show me you can be trusted, maybe I’ll give you a little more free will.”

“You know the last time I checked, people who are living of their own free will get to come and go as they please. I try to take one little walk in the woods and I wake up tied to a table. Is that all in my mind too?”

“We both know ‘a little walk in the woods’ isn’t all you had in mind and besides, for someone who considers themselves a prisoner you sure do a lot of complaining about your freedoms. Tell me, have they started furnishing the cells back at Rainbow with queen sized beds these days?” He counters.

“No, but at least we believe in taking prisoners instead of just cutting down every adversary we come across with no discretion, that’s more than you can say.”

“You’re still alive, aren’t you?” He challenges.

“Yeah, and why is that, Deimos?” You challenge back arms crossed over your chest.

He finally turns back to you. “Because it’s about time Rainbow learned a lesson about meddling in things that are none of its business. Because you came out here to me, sought me out with ill intent and you couldn’t finish the job, none of you could. You were out-maneuvered, unprepared and arrogant and you had no idea what you were dealing with.” He takes a step forward before continuing, bridging the distance between you.

“I left you still breathing for information, to find out what you knew and to try and get a handle on who I’ve let get too close.” There’s a pause as he closes the last of the gap, standing before you and encompassing all of your attention as you stare up at him raptly.

“And I kept you because I like you.” He leans down close. Calm, cool and collected, showing you even unrestrained he harbors no fear for you and you can hear the smile in his voice as he speaks. “And because I can.”

You don’t have a response for that and are ultimately left staring after him as he stands back up straight and tall and walks away once again, knowing he’s won the little mental battle of wills.

When you’re too stunned to move, still processing the information he grows impatient. “The hose is always an option, sugar cane. The choice is yours.” You scowl but get up off the bed and push past him towards the bathroom.

You undress and he’s way more attentive than he was the first time, eyes running over you with a scrutiny that’s not purely for security purposes. He reaches out with a glove as you spin around to head for the shower and it brushes against the exposed skin of your ribs, making you pull away and sneer like a cat being rubbed on its belly by unfamiliar fingers.

“Easy. I just wanna see how you’re mending.”

“Yeah? Well you can look with your eyeballs, not your hands.” You say this but don’t pull away any further. He doesn’t press it and removes his hand, apparently satisfied with the progress of the healing process.

Showered and ready for the day, redressed in the jumpsuit that had been your downfall you follow him towards the mess hall but instead of carrying right on through the huge double doors he heads in the direction of his office, something that puzzles you. When you get there your breakfast is already set up, one for each of you on his desk.

“Working through breakfast? Did you really have that much pile up while you were gone?” You ask, genuinely curious.

“No, you made sure of that, sweetheart. But I didn’t think your breakfast would go down so well while being glared down by a few hundred sets of angry eyes. You're not exactly popular at the moment.”

Your mouth opened for a retort but you thought better of it and just nodded in understanding before sitting down across from him. You both dig in unceremoniously and you watch from across the desk while he checks his emails while he eats, stealing little glances up at him between bites.

You hadn’t really thought much of it the first time, you’d been more occupied on your escape at that point to care about much else. But the desk setting is a bit more intimate than you’d been the first time around, closer than you’d originally been to him and with nothing else to distract you it was impossible not to stare.

He must notice you noticing him. “Something wrong?”

He asks after pulling the mask away from his face just enough to get the food to his mouth but not enough for you to catch a glimpse of him underneath.

“Why do you do that?” He swallows and then answers your question with another question. “Do what?”

You motion to him with your fork. “Eat like that? Why not take the mask off?” You ask the question innocently but there’s depths to your inquisitions, an unmistakable curiosity to know just what lies behind the hard shell.

“Don’t want to.” He leaves it at that but you pursue at your own peril.

“But why?” He cocks his head to the side. Like examining a particularly interesting bug that’s crawled over his foot, you have his full attention now.

“Why do you wanna know, sugar cane? Are you curious about what I look like?” And you can feel his eyes boring into you, he’s stopped looking over at his computer and he’s stopped eating and now so have you as you feel like somehow the tables have turned without you even really noticing and your face is heating.

“I- I don’t know. No.. it’s just.. weird is all.” And that’s all you can muster up in response. Too uncomfortable with the insinuations of the reasons behind your question and he knows but lets you drop it. You both finish your breakfast and it humors him to see you’ve stopped sneaking little looks at him, content just to eat almost with your head down, lost in thought and a bit embarrassed at being seen through so easily.

You go to gather up the trash and trays when he stops you. “Leave it, I’ve got something I want to show you.”

He gets up and you follow after him. He was right for having you eat in his office, every single person you pass in the halls as you make your way to wherever he’s taking you looks at you with loathing. It’s hard to believe short and stocky could have any fans with how much of an asshole he was to you but he must have some kind of winning charm amongst the troops because they all look ready to jump you if not for your all mighty keeper.

You stick close to him and even after you pass through the big double doors exiting the building and pushing out into the open air it still reeks of hate. But he seems not to notice, you’re sure he does notice but he doesn’t let himself be bothered by it. You’re his and they’ll do well to remember that, no matter what attorcites you commit.

“Do you like dogs?” He asks and you are blindsided by the question and all its simplicity, so much so you ask him to repeat himself. “Dogs?”

“Yeah, dogs.” You’re still confused but you answer it, it’s an easy enough question. “Yeah. Why?”

“I’ve been around dogs all my life. My daddy raised hunting dogs, bred ‘em, raised ‘em. Trained ‘em up from young pups, made them into disciplined hunting machines. Blue ticks mostly, but some hounds and setters as well. They’re called man’s best friend for a reason. A well trained dog can sometimes make a better companion than some men. Fiercely driven, highly motivated, loyal to a fault.”

He’s taking you over to the east side of the compound, you’d never been out this way but you’re less concerned with your surroundings than him opening up to you for once. You wonder why he is.

“He instilled his love for canines into me. So much so I took a lot of their characteristics into consideration to help develop my ability. I studied them closely, used their natural born instincts to help advance my own skills. They give to me just as much as I give to them.”

He speaks like he owns them, but you’ve never heard so much as a bark. You can’t imagine being here for all this time and having yet to see or even hear one. It’s when he stops in front of a huge building and opens up the heavy metal doors that you find out why. The noise leaps out at you as soon as the door is cracked.

It’s more than barks, it’s whines and whimpers and even a few bays but they’re not hurt or upset, in fact quite the opposite. You step past him into the building, unlike outside it’s cool and comfortable and he closes the doors behind you before continuing on through the facility.

There are pins set up down either side of the walkway and each pin is a ten by ten foot fenced-in square that houses a single dog. Each pin has a wooden dog house standing in the far corner but none of them are in use, instead each dog is pressed up against the front of the chain link cage as close as they can get, their tails a flurry of wags.

He stops at each cage, stooping down and talking to each in turn while they lap at his gloves through the links in the chain and the others further down the line wait in almost indignant anticipation.

There must be a dozen in all, dogs of a few different breeds and in a whole array of different coats waiting, albeit a bit impatiently for master to come around, it’s clear they’d missed him.

“They’re good dogs. Impossible to keep them quiet though, so I had the place sound proofed. It’s not ideal to keep them here now that we’ve been discovered but they’re like my children and I can’t part with them. It’d end me if anything happened to them.”

You drop down on a knee in front of a cage and the dog inside, what appears to be a blue tick coon hound with a white and brindle coat eases up to the front of the cage, all nose as it sniffs out your scent and must approve of what it smells as it cautiously but hopefully pushes against the cage as you reach out to stroke its fur.

“That’s Clover. Sweet girl, very driven that one but somewhat lacking in discipline and attention span.” She pushes against the cage broadside, rubbing her whole body against it as you give her pettings. “Well hi, hi, hi Clover girl! What a sweet baby!” She rolls over against the chain, dropping onto her back and exposing her belly, which you try your best to reach through the chain with your fingers.

“She likes you.” You smile as your fingers brush over her soft undercoat. “The feelings mutual.” He can’t help but feel that ache gnawing at his heart watching you play with the dogs, he’d expected a positive response but he didn’t expect it to affect him so much seeing you play with them. He tries to recompose himself and continue on.

“Dogs can be a useful asset or they can be a detriment, it’s all about how you work with them. They’re wild in nature, they need release and freedom, a chance to stretch their legs and quell the urges of their instincts. People can be the same way.”

And you don’t like the look he’s giving you, the way his gaze lingers on you from your peripheral. “Where are you going with this, Deimos?” You ask but don’t stop your loving administrations. “I want you to help me with my ability.”

You stop petting Clover and pull your hand away from the fence, prompting her to roll back over and cock her head. “And why would I do that?”

“As an opportunity to stretch your legs. Run wild, not feel so much like a prisoner.” It takes you less than two seconds to shoot him down. “No.”

“Are you sure? Think about it.” He prods. “I don’t need to. No.”

“Come outside with me. It’s too loud in here for a conversation.” You don’t necessarily want to continue this talk, you certainly don’t want to help him train in any way shape or form. He’s a terrorist, the literal direct enemy. But you can’t exactly refuse so you stand and follow him out of the kennel and into the afternoon light. He closes the door behind you and turns to you, clearly avid about making this happen somehow.

“Look, I’ll make a deal with you. All I want you to do is run for the hills, if you can escape me then you’ve earned your freedom, I won’t pursue you any longer.” And he leaves it hanging out in the open just like that.

“And get shocked again? No, not with this thing on my neck. I’ll pass.” He slips a hand into the pocket of his tac pants and pulls out a slim remote, with the singular press of a button the collar of your jumpsuit beeps. It’s hard to believe it’s really that simple. “Just like that?”

“Just like that, sweetheart.” You’re still not exactly comfortable with his little nicknames for you and you’re still wary of the whole thing.

“You want me to run away? Like to try to get away again?” He nods.

“I don’t think I really need to remind you where that got me last time, do I?”

“That was different.” Your brows furrow. “How?”

“You’re supervised this time.”

“Oh really? And what makes you think I’ll believe anything you say? I could get away and you’d probably still catch up to me and bring me back anyway. How do I know you’ll keep your word?”

He leans back against the outer wall of the building, another one of the many moments he’s glad for the mask, because there’s a smug smirk resting on his lips as he knows he’s got you, he knows all you need now is a little push to your ego.

“Just to be clear you won’t escape, trust me on that but you can sure as hell try. Besides, have I ever gone back on my word before? I promised if you took that punishment like a good girl I’d find opportunities for you to stretch your legs. This is it, now do you want it or not?”

You consider your options for a moment, there aren’t many and you really don’t want to go back inside and sit on your ass for the rest of the day. “Just run?”

His smirk widens and you can hear it in his voice this time around. “Just run, sugar cane. I’ll give you a thirty second head start. You’ll need it.”

You take one last look over your shoulder towards the wood line before turning back to him. “When do we start?”

His answer is the count. “1.. 2.. 3..”

You can hardly believe what you’re doing as you do it but you take off for the woods, nary a look back over your shoulder once you do, you don’t really know where you’re going, the town was north and this is east but if you can just get away apparently it won’t really matter. You’re hesitant, you heard the beep in the collar of your jumpsuit but your nervous system still remembers the shock it suffered not all too long ago and isn't exactly eager for a second dose.

You drop off the other side of a big hill, zigzagging through brush and around the base of huge pines, your feet slipping through the pine duff at a hurried speed as the breeze pushes through your hair. It does feel good, you have to admit. It’s been a minute since you’ve felt freedom quite like this, the escape felt different somehow. Scared, rushed. Now you just feel a bit exalted.

You hear it and it makes the hairs on the back of your neck prick up to points. The whooshing sound of displaced air, this time far easier to spot in the daytime than in the dead of night. His deathMARK. You want to bolt but your feet hold you back, you can only imagine you’re nearing that line. It’s then that he crests the hill behind you and instead of evading him you skid to a stop and so does he. You both stand opposite of each other, catching your breath.

“You’re not trying.” You can’t stand how he just seems to see everything so plainly. “Yes I am.” You lie.

“No. You’re not. Why?” It’s really no use, lying to him, he just sees right through it. “I wasn’t meaning not to. It’s just.. the line.” He’s impressed that after only encountering it once you could possibly know for certain where the line was buried. “I told you your collar is off. You had my word.”

You don’t drop his gaze, your eyes burning into the black panes of his mask, he sighs. “Come here.” He walks up to the line buried in the ground and steps past it before turning around and extending his hand to you. “It’s off, you have my word.” He says it again and the conviction in his voice is hard to not believe.

You walk up to the edge, the point of no return and after a moment's hesitation, you cross it. Your body prepares for the debilitating shock but it never comes and you look up at him, a meek expression on your face, one he’d never seen. “You can trust me.” He doesn’t justify it with an explanation or embellish it, just states it and leaves it at that.

“Now go again, and try to give me a run for my money this time.” You smile, it’s transient, there and then gone. You can’t help it and you hoped he hadn’t caught it, but he did and it’s all he thinks about for the whole thirty seconds of your head start.

Free of all inhibitions you dash through the woods, taking off in a straight line as quickly as you can. It takes longer before you hear the whoosh of the drone this time around. You push yourself faster, arms pumping as you try to out run it. You jump over a fallen log and skirt a huge rock before you come upon fairly flat ground and chance a look over your shoulder. He’s there, trailing you about forty feet back and you feel a dagger of panic shoot through your heart.

You take off again, head down, eyes narrowed as you try to out run him but you can hear his footfalls against the forest floor and he’s gaining. You redirect, shifting directions quickly in an attempt to outmaneuver him.

You bolt around an ancient oak and weave your way between a cluster of young pines but just when you think you’ve got him you feel his arms encircle your waist as he brings you to the ground like a lion pouncing on a gazelle. You instinctively bring your arms up beneath you to cushion the fall as he lands on top of you, his body covering your legs.

You both lie there panting, he can feel your heartbeat through the palms of his gloves at the small of your back and this whole thing might’ve been a mistake because he can feel himself growing half hard just chasing you down.

“Fuck me, how are you so fast?” He just laughs, a hearty genuine sound that rumbles through you and makes a heat flare in your cheeks that’s got nothing to do with running. “Secrets, sugar cane. Gonna try again?”

“You bet your ass I’m trying again.” His response is to smack yours, savoring the little squeal of protest it produces from you as you scramble to get out from underneath him. He pushes up off of you, sitting back with his arms behind him as he looks up at you rise up from the dirt.

You turn and run and he watches after you as he begins the count anew. You have a plan this time, it’s clear there’s no outrunning him, he’s too quick but maybe you can hide. You keep count in your head, if he lets the drone loose before you found your spot then there was no point in hiding at all he’d just catch you again. About twenty seconds into the count in your head—and you hoped to god he kept his count by the Mississippi rule, you found what you were looking for.

A massive oak tree uprooted many, many, years ago, and taking a pit mound with it, had left a divot in the earth and some animal, a lone fox perhaps, had dug it out for a den. There was no time for debate, you expected to hear the whir of the drone at any moment so quickly you crawled into the dugout space and pressed yourself against the exposed roots of the tree.

If the drone had thermal capabilities the spot was useless but if not it’d more than likely fly right by without spotting you. The latter turned out to be true as moments later you heard it whiz by, its flight undisturbed as it scanned the forest further out, it wasn’t much later you began to hear him, following close behind.

This was your opportunity. You waited for him to pass and when you couldn’t hear him any longer you climbed out of the earth and headed north. You made great time, full on sprinting as you tore through the forest. There was no use in trying to sneak, he’d realize soon enough that something was up and change directions.

But soon you heard the distant whir of the blades again, faint but nearing. You had a decision to make, hide again or try and out run it. The forest before you was bare, the brush light and the trees still standing to your dismay. You thought about turning back for the compound, it’d be the last place he’d expect you to head for but before you could you heard the drone overhead. It had found you and without much choice you took off north once again.

You knew it was your last chance for freedom so you barreled forth on legs already tired and worn. You had just made it into a small clearing when he pounced on you, totally sideswiping your body and you tumbled into the circle of pine straw and fallen oak shed rolling over top of each other until you came to a stop straddling him.

You lay there, a mass of panting limbs and it’s not until he’s relatively caught his breath that he realizes you're above him. He’s wary, it’s the unfamiliar cat feeling all over again, except this time the feline has climbed into his lap and he’s not sure whether you’ll simply claw his eyes out or sit and make biscuits. He gets his answer when your hips roll down over him, just an innocent shift of position as you try to readjust that turns into an inadvertent grind against the firm plane of his abdomen. You let out a groan you can’t contain in sinful bliss at the movement and it makes his lips press thin behind his mask, a groan of his own just barely stifled in his throat.

The sensation is exquisite, having been left so abruptly wanting after your recapture and the subsequent consequences you can’t help yourself. But you stop when your brain catches up to your nerve endings and you realize what you’re doing. You go to rise up off of him, embarrassed and a bit appalled at yourself when his hands snap to your hips and you both freeze.

You’re at a standstill, unsure what comes next and he makes the first move, pulling you back by your hips until you’ve moved off of his stomach and yanked you down over his hips, the prominent bulge in his tac pants unmistakable as you slide over it, both of your breaths hitching at the delicious friction.

What comes next is an exchange, a silent pivotal moment communicated solely through subtle touches fueled by mutual desire. It’s hesitant but quick, meaningful but rushed and what it comes to is you rising up off of him to pry at your clothes. It takes him no time to free himself from his confines and when he looks up and you’re still struggling with the god forsaken jumpsuit he motions you back to him. “Let me help.”

You stoop down but as he pulls a wicked looking blade from its sheath on his belt you instinctively pull away only for him to hold you fast. “Stay still and trust.”

He waits as you calm and still for him before he expertly slices a slit in the crotch of your suit. You give him an exasperated look and it makes him chuckle. “It was taking too long, I’ll have them make you a new one.” With the deed done there’s no use in arguing with him so instead you mount him again, grinding against him once more. Your fingers find purchase against him as fists, one balling up in the fabric of his cape, the other looping around the strap of his vest as the skin to skin contact has you keening against him.

He’s had enough teasing and rifles the length of him through the slick lips of your sex, collecting your wetness on the tip and lining himself up before you can change your mind. You have no such second guesses as you drop down onto his length in fact there isn’t much thought going on at all, just primal need. You keep your grip on him as you begin to fuck yourself.

He lets you use him, it’s the first contact of any kind you’ve initiated and he’ll let it run its course, reaping the benefits. His hands never leave your hips as his head drops back, trading the view of where you’re joined for one concentrated on your face and all your varying expressions. Watching your mouth part slightly as you take what was so cruelly denied. You pick up speed, eyes squeezing shut as your vision blurs around the edges, your head tipping back skyward as you ride him for all he’s worth.

His hands explore you, reaching up to cup a supple breast and he wishes to god he’d either had the patience to let you strip or had just cut the whole damn thing off you because you’re still wearing too many god damn clothes for his liking. He wants nothing more than to plant his boots in the dirt and lift you up by the hips, drive into you from below until your eyes roll back but he knows you need this. If you’re to let go of your hesitancy it’s best to be done on your terms. That doesn't mean once you’ve had your fill it’d be over, but he’s a patient man.

The sound of the wind rustling through the leaves of the trees is joined in harmony by your soft pleasured sighs and he’s never heard a more beautiful song. Your eyes open and you know what you’re doing is wrong. You glance down, the mere sight of him beneath you makes the alarm bells ring in your head but it also makes you that much wetter, knowing it’s him you’re keening for. It’s wrong but that doesn’t ease the ecstasy of it from coursing through your veins, collecting in a pit of pleasure that pools deep in your belly.

The last of your resolve makes your hips momentarily falter. “Uh uh. Don’t you dare stop.” You go to turn your head from him when one gloved hand releases the grip on your hip to lift up and grab your chin so you’re unable. “Look at me, sweetheart.” Your cheeks heat but you obey, your eyes flitting to the dark lenses of his mask. “‘Atta girl. That’s it, just like that.” As the honeyed poison he speaks begins to ferment you, the simple instinct driven part of your brain takes over, melting at the praise of a proven superior.

You moan at his words and he feels their effects as you tighten around him. “Does it feel good, sugar cane? Hmm?” You’re beyond words, knowing if you tried to speak all the would come out would be unintelligible babbles so you just nod your head frantically, it’s the best you can do.

He keeps a grip on your chin, keeping you trained on him as his other hand palms the swell of your hip, guiding you back into a steady rhythm, one that has you squeezing down around him and a low moan bubbling up in your chest and it’s clear you’re not going to last very long. Your fists tighten into white knuckled grips as your hips cant against his, speeding up as your climax draws near. He can feel you getting closer, his own hips bucking up to greet yours as you slam down onto him with each thrust.

“Come on sugar cane. Let me feel you come for me. Take what you need.” Your pleasure reaches a head, your walls spasming around him as you cry out your pleasure to the canopies above. Your face at this moment is a portrait of desire and he burns the image of it into his mind's eye, committing it to memory as you ride it out above him.

Just as you stop shaking, not even giving you time to recover he pulls out and deftly flips you, pushing you down on your stomach and pushing your knees up beneath you. With your ass raised up high and the length of your right forearm the only thing keeping your cheek from pressing into the dirt he resheaths himself inside you. You howl at the intensity of it, barely sliding off from the hill of your orgasm before he begins the hurried ascent to the next one.

“Deimos!” He growls above you, the sound of his name on your lips only spurring him on. He pulls your hips back into his, relishing his gain of control and chasing the pull of his own release. Your hands clench and unclench against the earth, scratching through the duff and leaves until the rich topsoil cakes under your nails. It’s the last thing on your mind as he fucks you senseless in the midst of the forest.

He knows he’s close, can feel his balls beginning to tighten as they slap against your clit with each thrust. He can tell you’re faring about as well as you push back into him, mewls reaching a heightened pitch as you barrel towards your second release and your lips begin to loosen as you careen towards the edge.

“Oh fuck! Don’t stop! Please!” You begging him for release is all it takes, his last few thrusts quick and sloppy as he feels you clench around him for a second time as he empties himself inside of you. His hips jut up against yours, pushing in as far as he can go and stilling against you there. Both of you breathing in heavy tandem.

After several moments he pulls out of you unceremoniously and puts himself away before standing. You look up to see him, hand outstretched to help you up off the ground. You take it, and now that the heated pleasure has subsided the wake of regret rises to take its place and you find it hard to look him in the face. He must have trouble finding the right words to say, keenly aware that you’re a bit fragile at the moment and worried that the wrong words could have destructive results so the walk back towards base is a quiet one.

He leads you back to the compound and shuttles you into the kennel while he goes and finds you a change of clothes. Before he leaves he finds it in him to speak. “While I’m gone will you do me a favor?” It wasn’t exactly what you were expecting him to say but it felt like a better option than discussing things between you. “Sure, what is it?”

“Can you feed them for me? There’s a bin at the back with their food and a scoop, the bowls are on a little table next to it. Two scoops for each.” You look towards the back and spot the bin before turning back to him.

“Yeah, sure.” He nods and leaves and you make your way through the aisle and toward the back of the building. Everything is as he said and after separating the bowls out and dishing two scoops of food into each you start at the back and work towards the front. The dogs are well trained and back away from the door while you enter. Sitting patiently as their tails give away their true excitement, thumping against the green AstroTurf floor in an unmeasured staccato.

You set the bowls down and step away before each dog rises and goes to eat. Careful to latch each door shut behind you, you make quick work of it and soon enough you’re setting the last bowl down in Clover’s pin. Unlike the other dogs she noses around your legs while you place her bowl on the floor and goes right to eating as soon as it’s lowered enough for her snout to reach. You can’t help but rub her sides while she digs in and you don’t even notice his return until he clears his throat outside her door.

“All done.” You say as you step through and latch it tight behind you. He hands you your clothes, another old set of fatigues instead of a new jumpsuit and points you in the direction of the bathroom so you can change. You can’t shake the feeling there’s been some kind of shift between you and this is only proven further as you head for the bathroom and he doesn’t follow after you. You shut the door and turn on the tap, splashing water up on your face and staring up at your reflection in the mirror. You don’t know what this means, afraid to think about what kind of line you’ve crossed without even really knowing it but something is different.

When you’d washed up and changed you found him again and you both left the kennel, completely different people than when you’d entered.

#dead dove do not eat #dead dove fic #tw dark content #deimos smut #deimos x reader #r6s deimos x you #r6s deimos smut #r6s x reader #rainbow six siege #r6s deimos #tw noncon #twdubcon

[darlingdarkly]

Fates Worse Than Death Part 2

Deimos x f!reader Noncon Enemies to lovers

4.1k Words

CW: light violence against women, noncon elements, dubcon elements, really light blood, foul language, mature themes (this is a pretty light chapter, mostly setup, future chapters will be heavier)

Part: 1, 3

His quarters turned out to be a spacious suite at what you assumed was the top floor of the compound. Wherever it was had you make two lefts, a right, had you stumbling up two flights of stairs, across some sort of sky deck, which the guards made you cross with your head practically between your knees (which was very uncomfortable and probably unnecessary considering you knew the coordinates of the base to have arrived to infiltrate it in the first place) and then up four more flights.

You repeated this combination of directions in your mind three times over trying to program your brain to make the information stick. When you enacted your escape plan it would be imperative to have some familiarity with the layout of the building.

When they pushed you in the room with a hard shove that would have hurt if not for the soft carpet pile underfoot, they locked the door behind them and the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end. You began to feel very much like a cornered animal and without your captor here to supervise them you knew any kind of behavior was on the table.

And just as you had expected they closed in on you. The one on the right, a thickset mountain of a man, immediately kicked you in the ribs, the steel toe of his boot felt like it bypassed your skin and flesh to grind directly into your rib cage, making you curl in on yourself on that side. The man on your left, a way shorter but much stockier man took that opportunity to seize your arm, his hands like iron manacles as he wrenched you back to your feet roughly.

You lashed out at the one who’d kicked you, catching him off guard and making good contact with the soft spongy paunch of his throat and knocking the wind from him as he doubled over. You laughed until the man at your side bunched the fabric of your shirt in one fist and rapidly pulled you towards him, the prominent shelf of his brow making contact with the bridge of your nose, making you scream in pain and squinch your eyes as they began to water uncontrollably, giving him advantage to maneuver you as he pleased.

Before you could recover you were pushed onto a thin, firm surface that you recognized immediately as a standard cot. He pulled old fashioned leather restraints across your body at several points, locking you down and securing your arms to your sides as you kicked and struggled as hard as you could. Short and stocky leaned down and whispered harshly in your ear.

“Relax, princess. Or I’ll drive my fist into your temple and tell the boss you bumped it on the ride up here. Just knocked you clean the fuck out.” He must’ve been bluffing and had clear instructions not to harm you too badly as you continued to struggle in your binds and no such blow ever came to be. You felt his hands on your head before he slid something down over your crown and overtop your eyes. The room became a pitch black tomb as the cool silk blocked out your sight.

He yanked your head forward and you felt him fiddling with the strap on the back of the mask and cinching it as tight as it’d go, in turn the mask over your eyes pulled flush against your closed lids even despite the raised eye molding meant to prevent precisely that. The result was an unbudgeable soft blinder that no amount of tossing or turning, though even that was a task in and of itself, would remove. He removed his hands from you and your head fell back against the cot. You heard him grunt at the other soldier before the door clicked shut followed by an elongated period of silence.

After a moment you completely relax your body, willing it to loosen the clench you’d put on as short and stocky began to restrain you, sinking as deep into the dip of the cot as the fabric would allow. You found it gave you about a half inch of clearance to wiggle. Shifting your head from side to side you found your mask was secured too tight to your head to try and slip it off, there was no pillow on the cot to try and catch the band on and even if there was as soon as Deimos came in he’d just put it back on and possibly duct tape it to your face or some other such cruel method to ensure it’d stay put.

For now the half inch of wiggle room would have to do but you wouldn’t act upon it now, in fact you re-bulked to try and conceal the gap you’d created. No point in giving yourself away early but after he’d fallen asleep, then and only then would you see what you were working with. It wasn’t long after that you heard the door open and your breath caught in your throat.

The thumps of his boots, as pretentious as they were intimidating, sounded through the space, indicating his presence but you knew it was a purposeful noise, he could’ve been silent if he’d wanted to. Having had your fill of thrills for the evening you tried your damndest to keep still and pretend to be asleep or passed out.

His footsteps receded until they were faint and then gone and you wondered just how big the room you were occupying really was. You’d wished you’d gotten a better look around before being blindfolded but there was no use in wishing for things beyond your control. He was gone for no more than a few minutes before you heard him re-enter your general area. You heard a drawer slide open and then thumps of armor and clothing falling to the floor. The next time he moved he was much quieter due to the fact he’d shucked his boots and it wasn’t until you felt the cot dip a bit that you realized he was beside you.

“Don’t bother, I know you’re awake, I gave the boys very specific instructions.” You're unsure whether it’s the ache in your ribs or perhaps the dull throb that accompanies the swelling of your nose, or maybe just your whole compiled circumstance brought on by the events of the evening that brought you here that makes you quick to anger. You’ve never been known for being level headed or patient but after the night you had you were feeling particularly irritable.

“Fuck you! Let me go!” You spat at him from your restraints, as futile in your struggles and outcries as a rat in a cage. It was infuriating to know the man who’d captured you, violated you and wrenched you of your freedom was just inches away, armor free and yours for the killing but tied down as you were he might as well have been over the moon for all the good it did you and even if you had been able to get your paws around his throat he’d probably end up overpowering you and killing you instead, probably resuscitate you and still end up keeping you just out of spite.

With the way people talked about him you were just waiting for his fangs to show and the claws to come out, a six foot tall inhuman monster in all he was capable of if the stories were true, you could hardly imagine the horrors under the mask. It was hard to ever believe he’d been one of you at one time, another operator working under rainbow, you wondered if you’d ever hear the full story.

“My, my. You’re bleeding sugarcane.” Your felt fingers swipe the trickle of blood off your upper lip and flinched at the feeling. “Stop flinching. I take very good care of what’s mine.” You couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Ohhh yeah, cause kicking me in the ribs and then head butting me before tying me down to this shitty cot is just the tits, right? Fucking five star place you’re running here you piece of shit.”

He tisked at you disapprovingly. “Still such a nasty mouth. That’s ok though. I’ll let it slide considering the circumstances, but you’ll learn to curb that, unless you like the little taste you had earlier, which I’m pretty sure we both know you had a fair amount of fun with, even despite the circumstances.”

He lifted your shirt just slightly to get a look at your ribs and saw they were already taking on a pinkish red hue that would ripen over time from yellow to brown to purple and then fade altogether, besides the discoloration and initial discomfort you would be fine. But that fact didn’t stop the flash of anger that flared in his chest that he quickly quelled, he kept his cards close to his chest.

“I’m sorry the accommodations are so inadequate, it’s all we could do on such short notice, if you had perhaps dropped us a line and let us know you were coming then better arrangements could have been made. I’d offer to let you sleep in my bed with me but I think I’d like to see the sun at least one more day.”

“As for the boys, I’m sorry they have no table manners, God knows I’ve tried to instill some in them. But they’re hammers, and to hammers everything just looks like nails.” His voice held the tone of a man disappointed but not surprised and he dropped the fabric of your shirt but not before getting an eyeful of the swell of your breast.

“If you’re going to be staying I should know some things. For starters, your name.” And he sat there genuinely expecting you to answer him, when none came he let out a gentle sigh. “Alright, then at least tell me if you have any allergies, any medications I should know about? Inhalers, insulin… birth control?”He paused after that and you surprised him with an answer.

“No.” you lied. You had no allergies and weren’t on any medications but you did just have an IUD procedure two months prior, thank fuck for small miracles. “Ahhh, so she can speak politely afterall.”

His cocksure attitude did not help your irritability but as you felt his thumb grip your chin and tip your head back, the sensation of his lips on your neck sure did. You felt him dip down and press searing hot kisses up the column of your throat, first just the press of lips. On the underside of your jaw, parting his lips just slightly and letting his tongue caress your skin. And just below your ear, nipping the skin with his teeth and sucking on the flesh he’d pulled in.

It made you keen in your binds, involuntarily arching to give him more access, a surrender he took eagerly as he spoke tauntingly against it in hushed tones. “You can curse and scream and struggle, but we both know you love this.”

Behind your mask your brow furrowed and you fought against the new arousal pooling low in your belly. You felt his lips leave your throat before his warm minty breath fanned over you, his lips just inches from yours. Conflicted and disgusted with yourself you turned your head away from him to resist and he chuckled darkly above you, relenting and pulling back.

“Baby steps, then.” You feel his weight leave the cot and his footsteps as they fall away before he’s pulling back the sheets and you hear a creak as he lays down for the evening. “Good night, sugarcane. See you bright and early.”

You don’t see as the lights go out and the room darkens, for you the lights went out long ago, the only difference being the silence that encompasses you and the wellspring of your own thoughts that plague your mind and refuses you of sleep. It’s not long before you hear his light snoring, mocking in its consistency.

You’ve forgotten all about that half inch clearance of wiggle room, forgotten all escape plans and all hope and all will. It’s him you think about as you lay awake, the stories you’ve heard and all the contrasting information you’ve received upon coming face to face with the man.

“He doesn’t take prisoners” yet here you are captured. “His fangs to show and claws to come out” But could those careful hands that checked your wounds and tipped back your chin really sprout claws? Could those lips that kissed your skin so delicately and with such gentle fervor conceal fangs? “Six foot tall inhuman monster” Somewhere in the drift you fell into a deep dreamless sleep.

You awoke to the blare of “Reveille” groggy and dis-oriented. Instincts kicked in as you tried to quickly spring up out of the cot and then memory followed soon after as you were acutely unable to. You groaned and lolled your head to the side in his direction, you heard the creak of his bed springs and were able to faintly detect his footsteps as he shuffled into the bathroom and closed the door. Much later he exited and rummaged around in various drawers before the boom of his boots began to get louder as he neared you.

You were blinded by strong sunlight as he pulled the sleeping mask off your face, eyes instinctively squinching as you pulled at your restraints to try and shield your eyes. “Morning, sugarcane.”

“Fuck me, Reveille? Really?” He chuckled down at you through the obsidian lenses of his mask. “Call me old fashioned. I bet you’re hungry.” Your stomach grumbled in turn, bypassing the tight lipped stubbornness of your brain and answering for itself. “Good. You should shower before we eat, are you going to be good and let me unbind you or am I going to have to fight you and bathe you myself?”

You considered it but decided this could be just the opportunity you were looking for. “No, I’ll be good.” And you are good as he undoes the leather straps that’ve been holding you down all night, you’re even good as he escorts you to the bathroom. That stops when he follows you in and closes the door behind him. “What are you doing?”

“Don’t mind me, go ahead.” Your eyebrows raise and your fists clench. “Uh uh. Go.” His head tilts and you wonder if he’s as expressive with his body language without the mask as he is donning it. “Not happening, sugarcane. You’re lucky you get a bathroom to shower in and I’m not hosing you down outside.”

“I'm not stripping until you leave.” It may have been just a white tee, your lower half exposed for as long as you’ve been conscious to know him but it was the last of your dignity. He strides forward and closes you in against the counter, caging you against it with his strong frame. “Wanna bet?”

You scowl up at him and push him back. “Fine.” You pull the tee off your body and stand straight and tall before him in naked glory. You slide the frosted door back on its track and step into the basin, giving him a glare as he shamelessly ogles you from beyond the mask before sliding it shut behind you.

You turn the tap on and it sputters. “Mind the water it’s-“ A strong jet of ice cold water blasts you from the head and you squeal in shock and surprise. “Fuck!”

“-cold to start with.” He chuckles as he watches you through the glass draw back from the cold stream to the far wall. “Where’s your tenacity, soldier?”

“Oh I’ll fucking show you some tenacity, asshole!” After a moment the water heats and you find you can stand underneath it finally. You wash quickly, you had hoped to gain access to something you could use to aid your escape while you were in here, but you hadn’t realized he meant to literally watch you bathe. There were no razors in the shower and even if there were there was no place to stow it.

You resign defeat and turn off the tap, staring through the frosted glass as he pulls a towel from a cabinet before sliding open the glass a few inches so he can hand it to you. You dry off and wrap the towel around you before stepping out. He hands you a pair of clean fatigues and find they actually almost fit. After pulling your hair up you follow him out the door and down the hall. You’re very surprised he’s not keeping you in his quarters the whole time or blindfolding you for transport but he seems not to care about you becoming familiar with your surroundings, a choice you hope to make him regret.

You head down the stairs as his shadow and cross the sky deck, head on a swivel this time as no one forced your head between your knees. It looks much different in the light but still just like any other standard military institution. The walls are high and guarded, there’s soldiers below, various platoons of them enthralled in varying activities. You see some doing P.T in the courtyard, some heading out beyond the walls of the base, even hear the distant ring of gunfire and the ping of targets being struck.

The building you enter on the other end of the sky deck is less modern than the one you’d left, walls of thickly painted cinder block surround you on all sides, the hallways are narrower and not just because they’re packed with soldiers coming and going. He turns through a pair of double doors into a huge mess hall already bustling with life. You follow him around the perimeter of the room and listen as soldiers stop eating to greet him, it’s clear he commands great respect amongst them as they stare after him, throwing cautionary malign stares towards you, word travels fast on base.

You sit across the table from him, the only table in the big room not built to set twelve people, it’s obviously meant for him and a few higher ups exclusively and you, a prisoner, seen sat at the table with him has a hushed murmur flitting like a fine mist over the room. He pays it no mind as a soldier brings up two trays and silently sets them in front of each of you. He digs in and you thoroughly examine yours for spit before doing the same.

He strikes up conversation like it’s a date instead of your first meal in captivity. “How’d you sleep?” You don't know how to answer that, wonder if you should even answer it at all but there’s really no point in not, so you do but don’t ask him the same. “Fine.”

You eat and it must please him to see it. “You really were hungry.” Maybe too stunned to say anything other than the obvious but while it does alleviate one worry it simultaneously sparks another as those who don’t immediately refuse food usually have a reason for doing so, to keep up their strength and bide time under good graces for eventual escape. He tucks the thought in the back of his mind as you both clean your plates and set out to start the day.

He leads you to his office and has you sit across from him as he starts out with the folders in his in box. Carefully reviewing each and signing them where needed before placing them into the out box to be returned. “I can run those out for you, get them back where they need to be.” And he looks up at you with a smile a mile wide you can’t see but do get to hear as he speaks. “Oh yeah, gonna be a doll for me, sugarcane? Turn yourself into my little secretary? Wouldn’t that be nice.”

“Why are you doing this?” He doesn’t even look up at you as he skims another document. “Doing what?”

“Being so reckless with me, carting me around like some little pet and not a prisoner of war. Or have you already forgotten how we met?” He stops and regards you for a moment, eyeing up your intentions before responding. “You wanna know the truth?”

You lean forward, all ears. “You know something I don’t. You know one, or some of my soldiers, better than I do and I wanna know what you know. You’ve already proved to be unaffected by normal interrogation and if I can’t make you tell me what I want to know then I’m going to have to keep you close until you do. And that means carting you around like my little pet, as you so aptly put it.” His honesty makes you slump a little, he really did mean to bore you to death, have you right by his side 24/7 through his boring day to day.

“Don’t look at me like that. We can still have some fun.” You feel his boot slide forward to play footsie with yours under the desk and you sneer and pull it back in disgust. “Be good and I’ll let you lick my stamps for me.” He laughs and you lean back in the chair, not looking forward to the day ahead.

After an hour he rises from the desk and you lift from your bored stupor to watch as he walks around the desk and past you to the door. You get up to go with him but without turning he stops you. “Stay.” Without so much as another word he leaves and at first you’re too stunned to do much else but stare after him in shock but it quickly wears off and you move swiftly around the other side of the desk.

You rummage over the tabletop and through the immediate drawers, hoping for something, anything to aid you, a letter opener would be godsent but you’d take a damn tac if you could find a way to smuggle it from the room. You find a little catch all full of paperclips and a brilliant smile breaks open on your face. Quickly slipping it into your shoe you sit back down, content. A few minutes later he comes back and you try your hardest to look beyond bored.

He drops a set of clothes into your lap and you stare down at them curiously. “What are these?” He leans against the desk. “You’re new clothes, had them special made, you’ll wear them from now on.”

You examine them, shifting the fabric in your arms. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing now?”

“What’s wrong is they’re not your clothes.” He gestures to the ones in your lap. “Those are.” He stands straight and has you get up and follow him down the hall to a bathroom. “Change.” You wonder if he’ll make you do it while he watches but he seems content enough to just leave the door open and turn away while you do it. Acting quickly to avoid suspicion, you carefully step out of your shoes so as not to disturb your treasure and change. The new set of duds is a way tighter fit, a one piece jumpsuit that clings to you like a second skin, you’ve worn looser wetsuits. The collar fits snuggly and stiff around your neck and no amount of tugging at it does anything to loosen it.

Dressed but a bit unhappy with the new get up you put your shoes back on and step out for him to examine. He hums in approval, unable to resist reaching out and gliding a gloved hand down your hip. “Much better.”

You don’t even skip a beat. “Thanks, I hate it.” He doesn’t either. “Too bad. You don’t have a choice, or have you forgotten how we met already?”

You’ll give him credit, he’s quick and he’s cocky but not obnoxiously so and that’s just the right mix usually but he’s literally the enemy so later after the days done and you find yourself thanking god to be back in his suite after what had to be the most boring day on earth, you know when he tells you he’s got to leave base for a few days and you’ll be staying behind that it’s your last opportunity for escape.

As the lights go out for the second night you begin to mentally prepare.

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