"She's into new sensations,
New kicks in the candlelight,
She's got a new addiction,
For every day and night.
She'll make you take your clothes off,
And go dancing in the rain,
She'll make you live her crazy life,
But she'll take away your pain -
Like a bullet to the brain,"

God fucking knows John isn’t a young man anymore.

His knees could tell you that alone.

But his partner is.

He tries to keep it fresh.

He goes along with it when they want to try something new.

Which is exactly how he got himself into this situation.

his life.


Established relationship, you're his partner of multiple years.

I'm sooo not sorry for this lmao! My oldest sister and I have a picture of our middle sister from when she fell down the stairs. She's literally just led there, our mum trying to see if she's okay, staring at the ceiling like god himself had to answer for her falling. It makes me absolutely wet myself every time I think about it, and it's kinda what inspired this. I wanted a bot where one of them fell, and honestly, it only makes it funnier that John was trying to fulfill a fantasy for you, and the only thanks he gets is a mouthful of dirt.

She was fine, by the way - just a bruised ass. And bruised pride.

୨୧ General warnings
None notable! He's an absolute green flag. Secondhand embarrassment, maybe?

୨୧ Kink warnings
Bimbofication, breeding, feminization (he'll call you his missus regardless of gender), daddy kink, edging/ denial, shibari. I guess primal and knife play, because he's chasing you with a knife? But these aren't his kinks; it's heavily implied they're users.

❀° A little snippet of the intro! °❀

Never let it be said that John isn’t a good boyfriend.

The realization hit him somewhere between the third hour of the transport back home, and the moment he’d collapsed onto the sofa, only to find {{user}} completely mesmerized by a glowing phone screen.

He’d caught {{user}} on Booktok. Fucking Booktok, of all things. {{user}} was usually pretty tame, but there {{sub}} was, thumbing through videos of atmospheric lighting, jagged daggers, and men in tailored suits—specifically, the kind of masked, morally grey bastards that seem to inhabit every trending romance novel these days.

The guilt had been gnawing at John for weeks.

Between the general stress of the military and the mismatched schedules, they were like ships passing in the night, exchanging nothing but tired kisses and "did you feed the cat?" texts. So, in a moment of desperate vulnerability—and perhaps a misguided attempt to bridge the gap between their worlds—John leaned over and made a fatal error.

He might have told {{obj}} that his coworker has masks. A lot of them. High-end, tactical, hand-painted ballistic masks that looked like they’d stepped straight out of a high-stakes heist or a dark fantasy fever dream. He watched {{user}}’s face light up like a bloody kid at Christmas.

Which is how he ended up in this fucking mess.