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kopines · 14 days ago

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A Path Diverging

PART SEVEN of SERIAL KILLER AU

ᯓᡣ𐭩 CHAPTER SUMMARY

You grapple with the new reality while you try to figure out what to do.

♡ Chapter Warnings: Mentioned sexual themes but not detailed at all, talks of murders (duh), nothing extreme

◇ Note: Sorry this took so long, folks. My brain went dumb. But I think it's back some now.

○●○ SERIES MASTERLIST ♡ PREV ♡ NEXT

NAVIGATION MASTERLIST

♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡

YOUR EYES WERE HEAVY WHEN YOU WOKE UP. Arms barely functioned. Heavy and numb against soft sheets. Your throat was achingly dry, feeling like a hole was drilled through, or someone just rubbed the tender esophagus raw. You smacked your lips together, swallowing rapidly and trying to produce saliva.

You went to reach for water that was at your bedside, but a hand dropped over yours. It was large, didn’t need too much pressure to pin yours back down. Your neck twinged with a rotten ache as you turned your head.

“It was for the best, dove,” Kyle spoke, eyes downcast as he watched you recoil just the slightest bit.

It all came back to you. The barrage of emotions bubbled in your stomach as doubt and caution filled your head. The men you had loved, had trusted, were filthy liars. Your heart pounded as you tried to make sense of it yet again. Yet, your mind was foggy, dialed down to low operating power from whatever it was they made you drink.

“You drugged me,” you rasped.

Kyle bit his lip, “Technically, John did.”

You went to move again. To grab something but remembered yet again, both hands were currently indisposed. The binding rubbed against the delicate flesh of your wrists with each movement. You tried to find a loophole, but you lived with experienced fighters. The bindings were tight and strong, not going to break under you. Not at this angle.

“We’re still the same people you know,” Kyle continued. “You just have to let us show you. John just needed you to calm down.

A tight, lackluster chuckle of disbelief left your lips. Was he serious? Nothing was the same anymore. Your lovers killed people right under your nose for a long time. While you just sat there obliviously. This wasn’t some quick apology. It was a clusterfuck.

“Was in your position before,” Kyle said softly. He brushed a hand over your cheek. Loving. Present. Comforting. You forced yourself not to lean into it. “I fought. Was a lot less composed than you are.”

“That supposed to comfort me?" You asked bitterly.

“You end up here regardless of what you do, dove,” Kyle warned. The delivery was saccharine sweet, but the words were haunting.

You felt upset in your belly, acid threatening to come up your esophagus. You didn’t want to be alarmed, to be afraid. Not of any of them. You had always felt secure. Now you wondered how much of your time together was a lie.

“Will you kill me if I run?” You asked quietly.

“No. No. We don’t hurt what we cherish,” Kyle assured. “We love you.”

You looked away. Your head was splitting open from the strain of stress on your heart. If you blinked hard enough or slapped your cheek, you would wake up to the reality you remembered. The one where you were content in the mudane life with your four partners. Not one where their side hobby left bile poisoning its way up your esophagus.

“Do you like it?” You asked. Did you really want to know that? He would most likely would say ‘yes’ and leave you with your throat plummeting into your stomach.

“No,” Kyle’s answer was surprisingly quick, and you looked back over at him.

“What? Then why-” Kyle cut you off before you could run yourself silly in your rambling thoughts.

“You and I didn’t get the same terms of negotiations, dove.”

That just left you with more unanswered questions. Kyle went rigid after that, shifting uncomfortably. You've known him long even to find his small tells. The downturn of only one side of his mouth, the straightening of his eyebrows, the faintest way he bit at his lip, and the way his right foot tapped just the slightest bit.

You went to reach a hand out, but remembered you're locked like some poor prisoner to the headboard. They didn't trust you. They believed enough that you were going to frighten and run. Yet you knew better. The ones that ran in the books always were the ones that ended up killed. Brutally, usually.

“Ky…maybe we-” the doorknob jiggled before you could continue.

John walked in, a plate of food in his hands and the familiar grin on his face. The kind that made the lines around his eyes deepen as they squinted and his cheeks to puff out. It was always such a sweet smile, and it had you feel horrible. There was a sinister energy beneath the grooves of his exterior facade, one that had you swallowing slowly as you eyed him.

He perched next to you on the bed, dipping his fork into the eggs that were on the plate. He pressed the fork against your lips, but you refused to open. Stubborness would only get you so far. Though, you couldn't forget that he literally drugged you. Just to keep you quiet about your discovery.

“Darling, you need to eat,” John chastised. He clenched his jaw, eyes narrowing the smallest bit.

You said nothing, but you were, admittedly, hungry.

“Do not play games…” John hissed.

He reached up and pinched the dimple of your cheeks, making your mouth open instinctively. He shoved the forked eggs into your mouth, watching closely. Once he watched your teeth mash the food into a digestible pulp, he hummed.

“It breaks my heart that you think we're any different because of what you know now,” John continued. He seemed genuinely upset, and you almost had the compulsive idea to apologize.

But you didn't.

Doubt hazed your thoughts, creating a murky field. You stood at one end, squinting through the fog, hoping to find some answers beyond the unsettling gray. Maybe something would manifest, come towards you, and guide your hand with its own.

Maybe it was Kyle. Your unsuspecting leverage.

There was something about the way Kyle was responding that wasn't right. Would he even give you answers if you asked? You wouldn't have known since John chose that time to appear. You hated that you fidgeted in his presence now.

What you and John had was endearing. He took care of you with a steady hand. Was wise and could always calm you by coaxing you into his lap. He was the solid foundation you clung to for so long.

Now you didn't know where you were going to land. Back in his arms or right into the concrete.

Maybe it wasn't a big deal. Maybe if you pretended, maybe-

No.

That would've been a direct insult to the victims. It was already bad enough living within the boundaries of their killing spot, but now you had to live with the fact that while you were playing house, your partners were two-faced.

Fuck, how many people have they killed?

“You kill people, John,” you finally found your voice, bitten back by layers of cracking cement. Your tongue was in your stomach as you manifested the strength to look at John.

“And you weren’t supposed to know that,” John said. He seemed calm, but you could see the clench of his jaw. “Johnny messed up, and we're dealing with it.”

Your stomach was unsettled. You didn’t like that. It wasn't Johnny’s fault he walked into the conversation that roused your suspicion. And, if anything, Simon was more at fault for the way he reacted with anger rather than shutting down your claims easily. But Johnny wasn't the top of the food chain in your little relationship, so it was easy to pick on him. Of course, Simon wasn't going to be blamed for any of this.

Why were you even defending Johnny in your mind, though? He was still a killer alongside them. For all you knew, the same vileness infected his blood as well. Was it always there, or did someone craft that type of evil? If you had to guess, John would be the one that put it all together. That was easy to assume, considering he was the eldest and most natural leader. You weren’t too sure it mattered, however. A killer was a killer.

You were trying not to have sympathy.

“So, I'm your prisoner now?” You asked, pulling on your binds for emphasis.

“Just a precaution, dove,” it was Kyle that spoke this time.

You frowned.

That was just the same as confirming what you asked. You never felt demeaned by them, but at that moment, you did. It was an unnatural feeling after a blissful time with them. The honeymoon stage ended abruptly, you supposed. You felt like a sheep surrounded by wolves, considering you were lesser than them simply because they had the knowledge and you didn't.

You despised it.

“Just need you to stop throwing a fit, darling,” John spoke as his deep blue eyes analyzed your face closely. It was penetrating, making the hairs on the back of your neck rise. Was it fear or animosity? “Then I will undo those binds, and we can resume exactly as we were.”

“You think I'm just going to accept murder?” You asked incredulously.

Was he serious? This wasn’t some admission of thieving when they were three years old. This was comtinuous looping murderous sprees that made you want to vomit up your insides. It was no walk in the park.

You wondered how you could miss all the signs. They were good at hiding it, though. It was a dreadful thought. One that made your blood run cold. All this time, you were oblivious to the monsters that went bump in the night.

But it also made sense. The way John always steered you from the backyard sometimes. How Kyle always asked about how your writing was going, specially about the crime aspect. The way Simon had questionable nicks sometimes–easy to overlook when he was always getting dirty. Or the way Johnny always took you away from the house to go get food.

Is that when they dragged the bodies in? When you were halfway through a milkshake and burger with your partner chatting happily across from you.

The plate of food in John's hands suddenly felt like they were full of squirming maggots. You no longer had an appetite. Not that you had much of one before.

Kyle put a hand on your back and rubbed your trembling body. You couldn’t exactly run away from his touch, so you sat there in defeat.

“She needs a bath,” Kyle told John. “She's spooked. It will help her calm down.”

“Reckon you're right, eh?” John agreed. “You want Kyle to bathe you, darling?”

You shook your head. You didn’t want a bath. You wanted out of here.

“How about Johnny? Though, I doubt he'll be very relaxing? Mutt will be all on you begging for forgiveness,” John suggested.

“I can do it myself,” you declared. “I don't need help.”

John frowned. The lines on his face got deeper, and you swallowed. You knew immediately that you said the wrong thing. John's energy was commandeering. If it fluctuated, so did everything else. Easy to feed off of. Easy to be manipulated by.

“Okay. Kyle can do it,” you relented.

John kissed your forehead. He smiled, and you instinctively returned it before you dropped the expression. “Good girl, darling,” he cooed. “Don't get shy on us now.”

He glanced up at Kyle, and the younger man nodded. He picked himself off of the side of the bed, his impression still imbeded into the firm mattress. You watched him go into the bathroom, leaving the door wide open. Allowing you to see his backside as he bent over to turn on the water.

You saw John move next to you. “Don't make me regret letting these go,” John said as he undid your binds. “Be good now. You always have been.”

Why did that feel so condescending?

You stumbled towards the bathroom, still a little dizzy from whatever John had drugged you with earlier. Kyle smiled at you when you entered the space and walked towards you. “Bath bomb or not?” He asked thoughtfully as you stared at the filling tub.

“Um. Sure…” you mumbled.

Kyle nodded and opened a cabinet and grabbed the collection of bath bombs you all had. You and Kyle used them most. Though, sometimes, John indulged as he liked the smells and how it made his skin feel afterward.

You glanced back to find John gone, though you still felt like someone was watching you. Or maybe you were just paranoid. You shook your head and turned back to Kyle.

He approached you after dropping the bomb into the tub, letting it dissolve into a bubbly essence. He gripped the hem of your shirt and looked at you. “Off this goes, dove,” he said.

You held your arms up, and Kyle pulled the shirt over your head. You didn’t miss the way his deep, analyzing eyes roved over your body. They all looked at you in a way that made you feel the cool structure of your skeleton. You were aware of everything because they seemed to glimpse beneath the ridges of your skin and into the very essence of you. Especially Kyle and Simon. They were the best at prying you apart. Limb for limb. Organ to bone. Bone to soul.

Kyle bent the distance it took to curl his dexterous fingers beneath the waistband of your bottoms. He kissed at your shoulder as he peeled everything off. You let him, unable to resist the desire to be taken care of. It made you sad to think that you might not have the simple loving caress of your partners after a while.

Everything had to fall apart eventually, right?

You let out a soft noise of surprise when Kyle suddenly cupped the warm flesh between your legs. Your core tightened for a moment, knowing the familiar touch and subconsciously begging for it. To your dismay, Kyle pulled away as quickly as he touched you.

“I won’t do anything while you’re still worked up, dove,” he said in a low timbre as he pressed one kiss to the delicate vein running through your neck. “C'mon…”

You watched with parted lips as Kyle pulled away and started undressing as well. Your eyes trailed up his body as every solid muscle was revealed. Yoy swallowed, unable to stop the involuntary response. It killed you that Kyle also wasn't indulging, but he seemed to be aware of your staring when he grinned over his shoulder at you.

He got in the tub first, letting out a content sigh as the water level rose due to his weight. He then blinked over at you and motioned for you to move.

You did, sliding into the warm bath and between his legs. The bath was custom-made to fit the mountains that you were surrounded by. Not a single one fit in a regularly sized bathtub. Well, a bigger tub meant more positives.

Kyle pulled you onto his chest, enveloping your body with his presence. Your mind was at war as his large, veiny hands ran up the now dampened flesh of your arm. He was respectful, simply touching you rather than pressing for more.

Despite the situation, you found yourself sinking into it as the seconds passed. You couldn’t help it. Kyle was always comforting, humming softly behind you as he rested his back against the back of the tub and cradled you against his chest protectively.

You relished in it selfishly for as long as you could because this would be the last time you did.

°•○●○•°

TAGLIST

@dragons-flare @z-wantstowrite @joopg00p @little-mini-me-world @pinkpuppipawz @prettystrangething @miinhoes @ash-tarte @maverickricky @love-cod-lols @shhitskinkytime @armycaratlover @malevolentghoul @all-by-myself98 @babybatreads @callsignpxnguin @box-loves-you

If you would like to be added for future chapters, let me know by filling out my google form in my pinned post!

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kopines · 16 days ago

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Firefighter!Simon who meets you when your apartment goes up in flames, breaking down the crumbling excuse of a door to make sure that everyone had been evacuated from the building. Gaz was having a laugh about how someone ‘could sleep through that shit’ as Simon had to wake up this poor girl who just wanted to sleep after her stressful day. Firefighter!Simon who answers all your questions with a gruff tone, navigating through the burning building. On one hand, he’s glad you aren’t screaming and crying about the building but on the other hand he wasn’t used to people asking him questions. You ask him things like his favorite color, his favorite food, how many times he had punched people in the face, and about his opinion on everything under the sun. He was on his seventh ‘you need to stop talkin’, ma’am, yer wastin’ air’ when you started coughing.

When you got to the ambulance, Firefighter!Simon didn’t say no when you asked him to go with you to the hospital. Johnny raised an eyebrow at Simon as he maneauvered his hulking body onto the seat next to you. For some unknown reason, Firefighter!Simon didn’t want you- nosy and kind and pretty you- to be hacking up a lung by yourself in the presence of someone like Johnny. And when your breathing started slowing and you weren’t looking around with bright eyes, Simon let you slide your hand into his gloved one.

Firefighter!Simon who, miraculously, has the night off. He decides to stay in the hospital until you wake: thinking it would be the gentlemanly thing to do to make sure your friends or family were made aware of the devastating fire. But when you finally blink awake and Simon asks all his questions, he’s stumped when you hit him with a ‘I don’t have any family’. Simon can’t stop himself from blurting out ‘You c’n stay with me. If you want.’

It takes a full day for you to be cleared before Firefighter!Simon picks you up from the hospital to take you to his (more than) humble abode. He finds that you quickly find happiness in the kitchen, but are more than disappointed to see he has barely anything to cook or bake with. “A damn shame” you say. With the remaining daylight hours, Simon finds himself driving you to a little supermarket in the corner of the city he hadn’t had the time to be explore. You insist on buying everything, telling Simon (a man who you really knew nothing about) it was the least you could do since he saved you from homelessness. And dying.

The rest of your first day in your temporary home with Firefighter!Simon is spent cooking. You whip up a marvelous pasta dish with hearty meatballs that almost make drool seep from Simon’s lips. He sits at the island watching you move around his space like you’d been there millions of times, an unfamiliar feeling blooming in his gut similar to fondness. Since picking you up some new clothes, Simon had learned a little bit more about you than Simon thought healthy. It was unfortunate enough for him to have been unable to get laid in over three months, but it was even more unfortunate that he had such a pretty bird in his apartment making him food and insisting on being near him when he sure as hell couldn’t make a move on her.

Firefighter!Simon who gets comfortable in his routine with you. On the days he’s not at work at assfuck 0200, he’s up making a simple breakfast for you and him before rhe day starts. You’ll eat and concerse a little awkwardly but that wont stop you from asking all about how he slept and if his buddies wanted more of those monster cookies you’d made to thank them for saving you and your fellow tenants. Simon had to relay many praises of your work in the kitchen, only ommiting the details and sly jokes about how ‘Simon’s girl’ was already taking care of the family. You’d go to work by bus or train- depending on how you felt- and then come home and make dinner or reheat leftovers. If Simon was at work, you’d laze on the couch in the main room and watch television and read. If Simon wasn’t at work, you’d bring the softest blanket from the room Simon had placed you in and watch a movie. More often than not, you would scoot closer and closer to Simon before falling asleep against him. When you woke up, you were in your bed- undoubtedly carried by Simon. Oh well. Its what friends do.

Firefighter!Simon who sees you as a friend. It’s basing your third week in his home and he feel comfortable around you. You’re good at reading his silence- the set of his shoulders and the future of his brow say enough- and he can’t be more thankful of that. For someone so new to his life, you seem to know exactly when to let a comfortable silence fall between you and when to start chattering about them things that come to your mind. But when you are the silent, short-tempered, and fatigued one, Simon is more than scared to get in your way. “Needa talk?” He offers, sliding you a cup of steaming coffee when you level a glare at the mug that had irritated you at such an inconveniently early hour. You heave a sigh and your head crumbles down into your arms. “I’m a mess, Si,” you tell him. Though your voice is muffled, Simon hears the shakiness in your throat trying to escape. He rounds the corner of island and places a large palm on your back in his attempt to comfort you. You are wrapping your arms around his neck and buring your face into the frail fabric of Simon’s shirt before he even knows what’s happening. And- as avoidant as Simon is to physical touch that doesn’t occur during work hours or when you fall asleep on him or when you slid your hand in his gloved hand during The Ambulance Ride- Simon didn’t mind your arms and warmth around him. When you started shaking in his arms was when Simon had to clench his jaw. It pained him that it pained you- and he didn’t even know what was ailing you! Simon tried to soothe himself with the knowledge that he was giving you the best comfort he could offer.

A day later you wake up to a crime scene in your underwear in the middle of the night so you decide to take a midnight trip to the convenience store a literal block away without letting Firefighter!Simon know. I mean, hey, he needs sleep and you were not going to wake him up to let him know you would be gone for a total of five minutes! But when you were on your way back to his house, you noticed someone following you. As you turned right for the third consecutive block, you finally fumbled for your phone.

Hearing you say ‘hey baby’ at 0146 had Firefighter!Simon’s head spinning. He was a little dazed because of the abrupt awakening but your casual greeting was wnough to jolt him awake. “Y/n? Whadda ya- what-?” He couldn’t finish his question before you interrupt him. “Hey do you think you could pick me up? I think I got a little lost.” Simon shoots out of bed, hitting the speaker button as he goes to slip a shirt on. “Where are you? Do I need a knife? Are you okay, dove?” He slips his shoes on and is out of the door faster than he is when he gets a work call. “Yeah, I’d bring the knife, babe,” you answer on the other line, more than loud enough for the man who is following you to hear. “I’m about four blocks away, by the Casey’s. You have my location.” Simon peels out of his driveway and immediately clicks on your profile to find the map with your smiling face. “Talk to me, y/n. I’m almost there.” Your breath is shaking on the other end and Simon doesn’t want you to be scared. “I think I could go for some Italian, Simon,” you say truthfully. “A minute away” Simon tells you, tires squealing as he turns down the streets you were hightailing down. Simon steps out of the truck after shifting it to park and the guy scatters. You’re running into Simon’s open arms before he could take a third step toward you. “I’m sorry,” you murmur “I kinda… started my period and didn’t want to wake you but then-“ Simon just shushes you, running a large hand down your back. “Let’s go home, love.” Simon scooped you up easily, tucking the obnoxiously loud crinkling plastic bag into your lap as he easily carried you to the passenger seat. Home. Yeah, Simon and his place had become your home.

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kopines · 16 days ago

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milk & honey — john price

pervy!john price x younger!pregnant!reader

warnings: age gap, power imbalance, lactation kink hinted, suggestive/soft smut buildup, dirty thoughts, price being a full-on menace, breeding/prey language

you show up ten minutes early.

little thing in a stretched-out dress that clings to your bump, a button-up cardigan barely hiding the way your tits are pressing against the fabric.

hair done. makeup light. cheap little folder tucked in your hands, pressed under your belly.

you knock.

and john price looks up from his desk and nearly groans out loud.

because you walk in glowing.

waddling a little.

smiling so big.

“hi! i’m here for the assistant position. sorry i’m a little out of breath, the stairs—”

“sit down, love,” he cuts in.

voice low, rough. already full of that accent and already wrecked.

you blink, cheeks warm.

“o-oh! okay.”

you sit. wince slightly. shift on the cushion with your knees pressed together, hands folding over your bump like muscle memory.

john watches.

watches the way you move slow, all careful.

watches the bounce of your chest — so full, nipples peeking through the fabric now that you're close.

you don’t even realize.

“how far along are you?” he asks.

doesn’t even open your file. doesn’t care.

“almost seven months.”

“you doin’ this on your own?”

you pause.

nod.

“yes, sir. just me and baby.”

he exhales. leans back in his chair, one hand dragging down his beard.

baby.

that fuckin’ word, from your soft little mouth.

he wants to say —

that belly should be mine. i’d fuck you again right now if i could. you’re perfect, made for it. full, warm, helpless little thing just waiting to be kept.

instead, he says:

“and you wanna work?”

you perk up.

“yes! just part-time. i don’t wanna strain myself, but i’m still able, and i wanna save some money before the baby comes.”

god.

you’re so fucking sweet.

he bets your apartment’s tiny. your cupboards half-full.

you probably eat cereal for dinner and watch baby videos at night. and now you’re trying to work — trying to be responsible — even though your ankles are already swollen and your belly’s in the way and you can barely bend over.

“i’ll do anything,” you add quickly. “i just need a shot.”

john looks at you.

hard.

long.

then he stands.

walks around the desk. comes to stand in front of you — tall, wide, shadowed in the doorway light.

you look up at him with big eyes.

“sir…?”

he crouches a little. one palm lands on the armrest beside you.

you freeze.

“you ever had a man take care of you proper?” he murmurs.

his hand brushes the curve of your belly — just barely.

“wh-what…?”

“not talkin’ about the father, sweetheart. i mean someone real. someone who’d put you in a warm bed and rub your back and pay for everything — make sure you never had to lift a finger.”

you swallow.

your breath hitches. thighs press tighter together.

“i-i just came for the job, sir…”

he smiles.

“mm. and i’m givin’ it to you. but you’re gonna be more than just an assistant, yeah?”

he leans in.

“you’re gonna be my girl. my pretty little secretary. sit at your desk and look sweet and full and happy for me.”

his hand smooths over your belly now — slow, deliberate.

“and i’ll take care of the rest.”

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kopines · 16 days ago

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Boyfriend!König who comes over for the first time. his eyes keep darting around and his hands are a little fidgety. he sits politely, albeit stiff, while you hang out. icy gaze following you as you stand up, “I’ll be back, gonna run to the bathroom. Make yourself at home.”

make yourself at home

Boyfriend!König who’s fiddling with the nearest window when you come back, “König? What are you doing?”. his head whips around to look at you before he straightens up, hands stiffly gesturing to it, “Your window— it doesn’t lock? I can fix this.”. make yourself at home, safety is always at the forefront of his brain, and this window? the lock is broken! he can’t leave until it’s fixed, what if something happens! doesn’t matter if it’s literally inaccessible from the outside, he still has to do something about it

Boyfriend!König who idly talks to you while trying to fix the little latch on it, thumbs a little too big as he fiddles with it. every once in a while you hear a small ‘gah!’, as if he were afraid it was about to break. he ends up staying the night so he can try again in the morning - of course he’ll stay over, it’s for your safety! (read: it’s to ease his mind!)

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kopines · 16 days ago

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Ghost, mocking Price: DoN'T stAB aNyONe-

Ghost: WHAT DO YOU MEAN!? STABBING IS MY FUCKING THING! WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO DO THEN!?!?

Price: Attempt at small talk

Ghost: *gags*

Price: Why are you like this!?

Ghost: *stops gagging and stands straight, pointing at him with a dead expression*

Price:

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kopines · 16 days ago

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U complain to Johnny that his cum tastes bad and he doesn't believe you, also lowkey offended. Ofc the only reasonable response is next time u suck him off, you gather his cum in ur mouth, grip his jaw in a kiss, and force it into his mouth.

After a solid ten seconds of spluttering, Johnny is willing to admit okay yeah it does taste a bit bad, lass.

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kopines · 16 days ago

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Ohh you might like this one, TF141 whose female partner is a Sweet Lolita? The Japanese fashion that’s very akin to Victorian dolls, sweet specifically having pastel colors and other cute motifs

Oohhhh, the ways this tickled something in my brain! I send platonic air kisses!!! I love Lolita fashion, and if I had a tf141 budget 👀 I wasn’t sure if you meant alone 141 or poly, so its implied poly!!! <3

---- While the men really didn’t understand it in the beginning, they supported the heck out of it!

I mean, what wasn’t there to love! Soft lace, fluffy skirts, and stockings that made you look so sweet and doll-like! It was unreal and breathtaking for them. They'll never forget the day they first saw you - their personal vision of pastels and love personified!

Kyle loves to help you style outfits for date nights and take photos of you! He also lives to help you get dressed in your intricate dresses and places little kisses on your shoulders, neck, wrists, and ankles while doing it.

He’ll guide you in your photoshoots as well (which are only for him and the boys, of course), and always makes you feel confident and beautiful!

While Johnny prefers shopping with you and getting his own personal 80s-style montage! His lil Bonnie Barbie! This may or may not have led to the two of you getting politely banned from a few places, so online shopping it was!

He even lets you buy him a few pieces to try, but ultimately prefers to wear his kilts when you occasionally wear your more extravagant outfits!

Simon, surprisingly, is the one who gifts you accessories he finds on missions and outings and the one who learned the most about Lolita fashion for you. It warms your heart knowing he’s thinking of you always.

He once got you this beautiful pink lace parasol that you love using on strolls in the park with him! God help anyone who looks at you for too long tho, as you leisurely walk through the park with a glaring giant shadow next to you.

Lastly, John was probably the most and least involved, as he didn’t quite understand Lolita fashion but wasted no time handing you his little black card and letting you go ham.

Whatever makes you happy, makes him happy and if that includes Lolita-inspired lingerie? Well, the more the merrier love! Get em' all!

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kopines · 16 days ago

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Who's a Heretic Now?

Got this idea listening to Which Witch by Florence + The Machine. I hope yall like it!

You are by the stream when you hear the tell-tale sound of horses on the soft dirt.

This was your first warning.

"Ma'am... we have reason to believe that... you are a witch." The captain of this small squadron addresses you from atop his stallion as you stand to your full height by the stream.

This was your second warning.

"You will find no witches here, good sir." You square your shoulders and look him in the eye.

The Infamous Price... given his name by the people he slaughters. The one whom he makes pay.

You can hear the two of the men on his team start to circle you, and you firmly dig your foot into the ground, just enough to be discreet and send out a signal for the roots to come back. There's someone in the trees... behind y-

You stop when you notice their armor seems to be clinking. Something... something's happening.

And this... your final warning.

You immediately withdraw your magic, and the clinking stops. Price just smirks.

"We knew you were the Witch of the Woods." He pulls out a necklace, the medallion on it radiating magic like uranium radiates nuclear energy.

"I am no witch. There are no witches here." You stand your ground, not willing to die for who you are.

"No use lyin', lass." The Scot, Soap, leans forward on his horse, watching you carefully with a carefree smile on his face.

"We just got confirmation." Gaz swings his medallion in the open air.

"Let's not scare her." John gets off his horse, and takes off his helmet.

"What are you going to do? Kill me? Torture me? Make me give you secrets that not even I know?" You prepare yourself for a fight... a fight you'll lose, but not without getting them too.

"Why make you if you don't even know them?" Ghost on his death-black mare emerges from the trees, his long bow slung across his back, "It would be easier to just kill you."

"Simon-" Price scolds his second-in-command, his hands on his hips. Ghost looks away, seeming to be scoping out the surrounding area.

"We... we need your help." Price starts, setting his helmet down and leaving his sword in his scabbarb.

"You need my help?" You let yourself slowly come out of the anticipatory stance, "Apologies, but I don't help killers."

"You kill." Gaz states, sounding so sure of himself and a smug expression to match.

"Do you think I'm doing myself any favors out here? There's no townspeople to convince that I'm a cunning woman that can help them. There's no protection out here." Gaz's face falls as he understands your situation a bit better now.

"So that's what you want." Soap gets off his horse.

"I never said that."

"Didnae have to, lass."

"Regardless, we need your help." Price cuts in, pleading for your kindness.

"Like I said, I don't help killers." Your face is stony as you begin to walk back to your cottage.

"The crown prince gave us the order to kill you." Price's voice slices the silence like a sword against stone.

You pause as you turn around to face them. "You are known for making your victims beg... why not make me plead? Why not force me on my knees and draw pleas from me like a chant? Why not kill me?" You take slow steps towards the captain, stopping at a comfortable distance.

"He was going to send us on the same day that he intended to banish us. For our crimes."

Your eyes narrow. "What did you do?"

"We operated under the General, with the Queen's express permission. However... she was found dead at dawn."

"And the prince assumed it was you." You come to the conclusion of this story.

"The General was not particularly fond of her anyways, and this would be an easy way to become the top of the military with his extensive training, overseen by the Queen and General themselves." Price explains, his arms outstretched.

"So you wish for me to protect you from the... King now, I assume."

Price's head hangs in defeat. You could see through his armor... through him.

"Fine. But I want something in return." You speak, your back straightening.

"What do you want?"

"Your swords." Your voice hits them all in the chest, understanding the weight of this. Soap, however... takes this a little too literally.

"Not actually. I have no need for a sword. But I do need your expertise in fighting if the new King were to ever find us." You look at Capta- Price... Just Price now...

"Boys?" He gathers his team together, the three of them looking on apprehensively.

"You said we would never have to do this again." Gaz look at the Captain, a sad look in his eyes.

"We never have to kill innocents anymore, Garrick. The men she is asking us to fight... they are guilty of every charge."

"They were our brothers in arms." Soap retorts, his arms crossed in front of him.

"No, MacTavish, they weren't... Not really."

As they discuss their little moral debate, you walk inside your cottage and gather your materials. Moon water can be made again... Eye of newt only grows in this area, gotta take it. It will be hard to find marshmallow elsewhere... I'll take that and grow it.

As you exit the cottage with everything you need, you look at the group, seeing Price give his men an inspirational speech. It makes you roll your eyes as you turn back to the cottage and say a spell, while holding your hands together, thumbs out to form a triangle over your head. As you chant your spell, and slowly bring your hands down, your home starts to crumble and form back with the Earth.

"Captain... I think she's leaving." Gaz nudges Price's shoulder, pointing at you.

Price turns to look at you, "You made a deal!" He shouts, angry at you seeming to double-cross him. "You said you would protect us if we gave you our swords!"

You sigh and close your eyes, feeling the setting sun on your face. You turn around, looking down the hill at him, the sun iluminating you, the wind caressing your hair.

"Who said 'I' was leaving? You're coming with me."

Price, shocked, stands there and takes in your words. And then your power... and your majesty. You are the most beauti-

"Apologies," He clears his throat.

"Besides, you haven't promised me your swords yet." You shift your gaze from Price, to the team, and back to Price.

Price, recovering from seeing you in this golden moment, takes his sword out and slams it into the ground in front of you. He slowly kneels on one knee, head bowed and hands gripping the hilt.

"I pledge my sword to you."

His team stands in amazement. They have only seen this happen one other time and... it was never this devout.

Gaz was the next to follow, throwing his sword in the ground close to his captain, mimicking the older man's stance. "I pledge my sword to you."

You look on in slight amusement and definite shock as Soap follows close behind. "I pledge my sword to you."

It is Ghost that takes the longest. He simply stands there and stares at you, his hand gripping the longbow like's ready to notch it and kill you any second.

"Ghost. I understand your apprehension. But I can't help you unless you are willing to fight. I will take you to safety. I will never ask you to kill an innocent. But I do need this of you." You look at him, understanding flowing between your gazes.

He slowly follows behind his group, using his bow instead of his sword.

"Great. Are you boys ready?" You turn from them, facing the oncoming dusk, "It's going to be a long ride before we get to safety." You start walking towards the sun and down the other side of the hill.

Price smiles slightly as he stands, putting his sword back in its scabbarb.

"You heard the witch. Let's pack up." Price gives the order to follow you as he heads for his horse and saddles up, his men following in his stead.

"Where are we going?" Soap asks when they catch up to you.

"I don't know. But I hope it's safe."

So... I have an idea for this to become a series with no idea of whether or not I wil have the energy to do so, but let's hope so. Have a great night/day!

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kopines · 16 days ago

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Vampire!141 x fledgling!reader, who was found abandoned and starved the plan

After a few more cups of bear blood, the water has cooled down, and you finally have enough strength to bathe. As you soak, the 141 takes care of your cottage.

Laundry's done, and your bed linens are clean again. The windows are wiped, and the floors are swept and mopped. Any traces of blood are taken care of, as well. Your one tomato plant has been watered, and the air is fresh once more, free from the stench of death.

Every now and then, the men check up on you to make sure you’re still above water and conscious. After tidying up, they take a seat at your kitchen table, their own beverages in hand as they concoct a plan for your rearing.

On paper, it's a simple three-step process:

-Keep an eye on you. -Make sure you feed. -And keep you out of the Sun.

You won't enjoy step three all too much, this they know. While it's true that most of the myths are hooey, vampires are still primarily a nocturnal race.

"Until she's five, she's nothin' but a snowflake," Simon says. "But the Sun's the least of our problems if she doesn't feed regularly."

"She will make it to her fifth year," Price reassures Simon. He nods, "She's a strong one."

"Not if she skips meals," Simon pushes back. "It's good that she's drinkin' now, but fledglings can still be stubborn and put off feeding." Simon often skipped feeding in his own youth and had to be force-fed on occasion. He doesn't want to resort to that with you. "I'm not doubting her, but…"

"We're all worried, Lt.," Johnny voices everyone's concerns. "But she's got us now. And I'm wit' Price on this; fledgie's got a good heart and a proper head on her shoulders." The Scot's hand overlaps with Simon's. "We're her best chance at survival. We just gotta guide her." Simon's fingers then interlock with Johnny's in silent thanks.

"We still need to reconsider her living arrangements," Kyle frowns before taking a sip of deer. "She'll be spending most of the first two years in shadows, and keeping her in this little cottage won't do her any good."

"Think we could convince her to move to the estate?" Johnny hopes. "Bigger with a lotta space, plenty of gazebos that'll be beneficial whenever she wants to go outside." He pauses, frowning as he hears himself talking. "Damn, sounds like we're discussing a dog," he mutters, ashamed.

"We'll discuss things further when she gets out, but we have a better chance with moving," John counters back.

"Does she have any family?" Kyle asks next. "Anyone who'll miss her?"

"Amos said she's on her own. She has no one to call or reach out to. He didn't give specifics, but family's not in her contacts."

"Hmph, only a few good reasons why," Simon says with a scoff.

"Whatever the reason, we're gonna be there for her," Kyle affirms.

The bathroom door creaks open, and a light pit-pat is paired with the faint sound of water draining. Dressed and wrapped in a warm, cozy robe, you appear from the hallway, cheeks plush and warm. Not quite yet full, but you're in a much better state than before.

"Well, lookit ya," Johnny grins. "Lookin' better already."

The men clearly made themselves at home. But Simon's pulled up your recliner, and Johnny's using its ottoman.

"Oh! Mr. MacTavish, Mr. Riley, I got two extra, proper chairs in the hall closet that you can use," you tell them politely.

"Oh, this is fine, lass," Johnny waves you off. "No need to concern yerself fer us."

You take a deep breath, pulling your lips into a thin line. "My ottomans aren't for sitting, sir," you try to explain. "And the recliner will mess up my wooden floors…"

"Ohh, got ya, got ya!" They're immediately up, both he and Simon putting the furniture back in their place as you retrieve the appropriate seating. "Jus' like me nan," Johnny mutters to himself.

After soft rummaging and clattering, you soon return with two wooden chairs in your hands, mismatched to the other two at the table. "Ah, let me get those, fledgie," Kyle offers, already walking over.

"I got them," you said, pulling the chairs away as he reaches for them. But Kyle wasn't having it.

"Love, you need to save your energy and rest," the pretty Sergeant sang to you. "You need all the strength you can get."

Your lips stretch into a thinner line. He's doing that thing again, you think. Tickling my ears…

"I'm able to carry two chairs, Mr. Garrick," I try to tell him. "I may be low on energy, but I'm still strong enough to do it myself. And you four are guests in my house."

The pretty bastard has the nerve to smile and tilt his head at you. "Yes, we are the guests, but we're also your caretakers now," he says. "And we want to make sure you're comfortable. Besides, we're former military. We're used to little to no comforts. Now, won't you let me carry those chairs for you?" He even dips his chin down and hits you with the puppy eyes. "Please?"

Simon looks to where God should be while the two Johns are merely amused. Whining, you relent and let go of the chairs. "Fine, but only because you asked real nice," you said.

Definitely not because he can croon and sway my emotions like the pretty bird he is. Most certainly not that.

"Thank you, darling," and Kyle takes the chairs to Simon and Johnny, but the former doesn't sit down.

"Park it here, fledgie," he snaps to the chair. You try to protest, but, "Nah, go on. You need it more than I do." Not wanting to make a fuss, you oblige, with the Lieutenant standing by. "There. That better?"

"…Yeah."

"Now, love," John begins, resting his arms atop the table, "we need to discuss your first five years. As of now, you're very weak as a fledgling."

"I bet so," you comment.

"You have no immunity to sunlight," John continues. "You step outside, you're ash."

"So you're saying that for five years, I have to stay outta the Sun?" you frown. "But I see a lot of vampires walk in the daylight."

"They're older," Johnny explains. "Fledglings such as yerself are still sensitive to the rays, but the time'll fly by. Gone before ye ken it!"

Kyle comes from the kitchen to bring you a fresh, warm cup of more bear, before sitting back down. "And by the end of your second year," he chimes in, "you'll be able to step outside on a cloudy day."

"I can't even step out on cloudy days?" you whine. Kyle sucks in a breath.

John sighs and decides to take back the reins of the conversation. "Your first five years are crucial. You won't be locked away, and you'll be free to do whatever you want. But to an extent and with our supervision."

"Like a child," you state it in simple terms.

"As our ward," Simon corrects.

"So you four are my guardians?"

"Your sires," John specifies. "Unofficial, but you'll be our responsibility for the foreseeable future."

"A vamp can have more than one sire?"

"It's unorthodox, but not completely uncommon," Kyles steps back in. "Usually it's when more than one vampire wants to… well, what's the best way to put this?"

"Co-parent?" Simon suggests. Kyle shakes his head. "Share?"

Another shake, "Nah, not quite."

"Yer both making it harder than it needs to be," Johnny rolls his eyes. "If more than one vampire wants to sire ye, they do it to for a deeper connection tied through the fledgling," he tells you. "It can be familial, platonic, or romantic; whatever brings them closer to their young one."

"What type is it with me then?" you ask. The soldiers glanced at each other, uncertain, not expecting such a question so soon. "I don't… quite have you four figured out yet, and if things somehow… get weird—"

"It's whatever you want it to be," John cuts in. "No type of relationship will be forced upon you. It will be what you want it to be." He pushes your cup of bear blood closer to you. "It's the sire's duty to cater to their fledgling's needs. While the fledgling learns control and discipline, and to depend on their sire. Or sires. And no matter what develops, we'll be there for you."

You look back at the cup, reflecting once again on your limited options. Only option. Close your eyes. Take a deep breath in, and let it out. Open your eyes.

"What happens after five years?" you ask.

"We'll cross that bridge when we get there," John says as he takes up his own mug.

As he sips, exuding an air of authority and control, something tickles in the back of your brain. Something simultaneously great and small. Fierce and mild. Something beautiful yet… fearsome. A shiver rides up your spine, nearly convulsing as you straighten your posture.

You don't even notice the four, brief smiles hidden away.

Licking his lips, John lowers the cup. "There's much more to discuss," he continues, "but let's not rush things. You've been through a lot these past few weeks." A cool hand reaches for you, holding little warmth from the mug, and its size dwarfs your own. The physical contact tickles you again, but you keep your composure. "For now, we want you to rest. Can you do that for us?"

Taking your own cup and sipping the contents, you sigh. "Yeah, I can do that for ya."

Holy shit, fledgie, the four men think to themselves.

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kopines · 16 days ago

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◡̎ The guilty pleasures they'd never admit to ⨯ 141 Edition (18+)

Johnny—Ignoring and cuckolding. Very straightforward, Johnny gets hard when you ignore him for whatever reason. Most times, it's unintentional; you're busy and brush him off with a quick peck to his scruffy cheek and his cock chubs in his pants automatically. It's even better if you forget to mutter an apology for it. Cuckolding is a bit more tricky, because you rarely indulge in sex with one of the others without including him, because you're just that sweet and considerate (and insatiable), and he hasn't had the balls yet to tell you that he wants to be forced to watch. The others know already, because they've picked up on the way Johnny has managed to cum simply by watching you get pounded by one of them, but they also get off on watching him squirm all red-faced and breathless, so they keep the secret to themselves. Bastards.

Simon—Overstimulation and ruined orgasms. Simon is an even bigger masochist than Price, and he blames it on his trauma. Sometimes, he can't enjoy sex with you, simply because he feels like he doesn't deserve it—but it didn't take long for you to figure that out. Overstimulation helps him a lot, even if it turns him into a dumb, crying mess. Sprinkle in some soft praises, and he's completely brainless—teary eyed and massive bulk flushed as red as his ruddy, swollen tip. He needs it to shut off the insecurities, the guilt, and lingering shame carved into his very skeleton. If you ruin his orgasms, he will kiss the ground you walk on afterward, heeling like a loyal puppy. Simon Riley is a complicated man, but you somehow get him.

Price—Edging and humiliation. As much as he tells you that he doesn't get the appeal of edging, it makes him feel extremely good when you end up doing it to him. To a man like John, relaxation doesn't come easy, but when you edge him for a while, he ends up cumming so hard, it puts him right to sleep. However, it becomes a problem when you giggle and coo at him condescendingly for cumming so much and getting sleepy afterwards, like the middle-aged man he's slowly becoming. Even he is surprised when his fat cock stays hard and eager in your grasp before he flips you around and folds you in half to make you choke on your laughter when he sinks into your gorgeous cunt.

Kyle—Cum blocking and pegging. Kyle is sneaky and too dominant to ever admit how much he enjoys it when you try to dom him. He loves it when you do it while he's practically boneless, too riddled with fatigue to even protest while you're stroking and licking his cock so prettily. You've swallowed his first load so eagerly, he never sees it coming when you suddenly pull back and squeeze his flared cockhead with your thumb pressed to his tip to block his cum. He yelps from the intense sensation, balls twitching and drawing tight as he cums so hard, his eyes roll back into his skull—all while you keep his tip from releasing. It borders on painful, but he's too far gone (and stubborn) to beg. And it becomes your favourite practice to make him submit, next to begging him to let you peg him. Kyle tells himself he's still in control while you do all of this to him—because he's allowing you to do it, right? However, all those thoughts fly out the window, whenever you finger his slicked-up arse and press against his prostate to prep him for the pretty strap he bought you.

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