Madness Combat Oneshots [Hiatus]

⊕ Sanford and Deimos x Reader ; Kill Mode

Exams are finished and none of them weren't that bad. I'll try to write more.
Emphasis on try.

TRIGGER WARNING: As you could probably see from the title, today's chapter deals with Yandere themes. Expect murder, excessive detail regarding gore, and more dark themes.
Proceed at thy own risk.




ㅤㅤㅤBeing in the middle of what seemed like a rip-off world war was stressful, to say the least. If it weren't for your best friends Sanford and Deimos, you would have pulled the trigger on yourself long ago.
ㅤㅤㅤThe whole lot of you ("whole lot" being just the three of you) would go on many missions under Hank's name. Let's just say Deimos and Sanford were in charge of Hank's life, being hired to complete missions to keep Hank safe and alive.
ㅤㅤㅤThe mercenary was intimidating. No, Hank would not bother you when you were completing a task unrelated to missions, but, rather, his presence generally made you feel uncomfortable. It seemed like he had no words to say, yet he had so much in his mind. You could tell things were racing in his thoughts just by the way he would look at you.
ㅤㅤㅤBecause of the impression Hank gave to you, you kept your distance from him. Part of it was due to the fear that he'd turn his back on you, finding your existence to be a disgrace and killing you off the team completely.
ㅤㅤㅤAs close as he seemed to be when it came to discussing plans with Sanford and Deimos, you had this. . . strange feeling that he was not who he made himself out to be. You always had a feeling that there was a Hank in him that would go kill mode and, someday, he might not be able to control it any longer.
ㅤㅤㅤMost of the time, you'd stay with Sanford and Deimos. You didn't want to tell them about how uncomfortable Hank made you because they thought well of that man; he was a hard-working mercenary who kept his guard up at all times and never seemed to get tired, even after an abundance of given missions. In your thoughts, it was like Hank was what Sanford and Deimos wanted to be.
ㅤㅤㅤThe thought of your two friends becoming like Hank sent a shiver down your spine, and, that could have been enough to bring you back to your senses.
Unfortunately, it had been the painful sting of a passing bullet that brought you back to reality.
ㅤㅤㅤThe bullet did not make it through. Instead, it lodged itself in your waist deeply. The pain grew more and more intense by the passing minute and it seemed like the world around you began to disappear, dissolving slowly but surely, as you seethed in pain and agony.
ㅤㅤㅤYour hands dropped the heavy gun you were holding as they quickly shifted to your waist. The blood pouring from the wound seeped through your clothes, staining them mercilessly. The pain was something hard to dismiss because you paid no mind to Sanford and Deimos making their way to you. Kneeling beside you, they placed their hands on your body and let it roam freely. At first, it seemed like their hands clawed at you, desperate to get their hands on you, but after careful thinking, you noticed they were touching you rapidly because you had collapsed and were close to hitting the ground.
ㅤㅤㅤThen, it went black.
ㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤSanford gritted his teeth upon seeing the bullet that was dug into your skin. Red crimson liquid spilled from the wound, worsening the way Sanford felt. There it was. The Kill Mode Wimbleton was talking about. His mind was clouded, the only thoughts present in his head the ones pertaining to murder.
ㅤㅤㅤTurning his head to his partner Deimos, he saw that Deimos, too, seemed. . . out of it. His body was tense, figure bent over your unconscious body in an attempt to wake you up. When both persons had realized that you weren't responding, they stayed still.
ㅤㅤㅤSanford stood up and turned to the person that had done this to you in the first place. There the agent stood, his face mingling with pride as he realized how good his aim was. All of this was appealing to the agent, from the collapse of your body to your now-unconscious state. The agent chuckled lowly under his breath, the grip on his gun tight as he prepared to shoot Sanford and, if he could, Deimos.
ㅤㅤㅤThe idea of winning a battle was one that the two men disregarded. It seemed to them that all that truly mattered was your safety, yet, there you were, unconscious.
ㅤㅤㅤLike Hank had said.

Kill Mode.

ㅤㅤㅤIt started when Sanford brought his meathook out and threw it at the agent. The curvature of the meathook caught a surprisingly good grasp on the guy, piercing its way through the agent's stomach and back out. As the agent had little to no time to comprehend what was happening, Sanford pulled his meathook to him in an attempt to drag the agent along with it.
ㅤㅤㅤPerhaps it had been the agent's weight or the small yet dangerous piercing made by the meathook, though the agent did not come with it. Instead, the meathook snapped back violently, hitting Sanford's shin for a moment, before lying still on the ground next to Sanford. A bead of sweat dribbled down the agent's forehead as he felt his insides shift lower. He didn't dare look down, afraid of the sight that might appear before him.
ㅤㅤㅤHowever, it didn't take the agent's attention for him to understand what was going on. A grave pull tugged at the agent's insides, and little by little, inch by inch, did the agent's organs begin to push out. He didn't need to look down as sprawled in front of him, in his peripheral vision, was his large intestine.
ㅤㅤㅤHorrified at the sight, the agent screamed before falling on his knees. There had been a small attempt at trying to pick his insides up and stuff them back in him, but the blood pooling around him made his intestines a little too hard to grasp. They were in his hands for a second before dropping back onto the puddle of blood with a plop. 
ㅤㅤㅤ Sanford turned to Deimos, and, to the both of them, it seemed like a signal. Deimos nodded in response to Sanford's nonexistent yet understandable request as he walked over to the agent.
ㅤㅤㅤHe smiled unnervingly at the sight of the agent. At that moment, more organs spilled out of his cut-open stomach, and now, he was trying to grab whatever he could.
ㅤㅤㅤDeimos wish he wouldn't die now. Blood loss could kill the guy, but he wanted to do more.
ㅤㅤㅤDeimos' foot made its way to the agent's face, who, because he was kneeling, made it easier for Deimos to position his foot. The boots he was wearing were heavy yet military-like, and it had really helped Deimos get some exercise considering he couldn't just drag his feet around.
ㅤㅤㅤThe weight of Deimos' boot was so heavy on the agent's face that it caused marks to appear. Deimos began to push his foot down on the agent, almost as if he wanted his foot to reach the ground beneath them. The agent grunted, the weight on his face getting more and more unbearable with every passing second.
ㅤㅤㅤSoon, Deimos' foot was 7 inches off the ground and the agent was on his side, beneath Deimos' boot. His guts were still sprawled out messily, and the pool of blood that was present before grew even larger. It had become a question to Deimos and Sanford how the agent was still alive.
ㅤㅤㅤDeimos pushed and pushed, edging his boot to dig into the agent's figure even deeper. It took a lot, but, eventually-
ㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤCRACK!

ㅤㅤㅤDeimos smirked. Lifting his boot up was somewhat hard work considering the ground beneath him was sticky. Either way, he was able to do so and marveled at the sight below him. The agent's head was split open and crushed, his skeleton had cracked open, revealing his brain. Not to mention, the eyeballs that messily stuck out of the broken skeleton, seeming misplaced.
ㅤㅤㅤ"Alright." Sanford's voice pierced through the silence. "That should be enough. Let's get (Y/N) home."
ㅤㅤㅤDeimos muttered an "alright" under his breath as he cockily stared at the agent. He was not one for violence but seeing the agent messed up because of his (and Sanford's) doing was appealing to him.

ㅤㅤㅤYou had woken up a few hours later. To your surprise, you were feeling well, and there was little to no pain where you had been shot. You had also noticed that the clothes you were wearing during the mission were discarded, and you were left in more comfortable house clothes.
ㅤㅤㅤWho changed them. . . ?
ㅤㅤㅤNo use dwelling on those things.
ㅤㅤㅤDue to your drowsiness, you were unable to make out the figures present beside you. The cot you were laying in was one that was quite small yet the two people to both of your sides made the cot seem bigger than it actually was.
ㅤㅤㅤOn your left was Deimos, whose arms were wrapped around your neck. It seemed like he was clinging onto you for dear life, as his position was infantile. His knees were to his chest as he snuggled up against you, his face showing very clearly that he was asleep.
ㅤㅤㅤTo your right lay Sanford. His muscular arms had made their way to your waist, a few inches above your bandaged wound. He held you close to him like a mother would their child, his hand placed above your head lovingly.
ㅤㅤㅤIt seemed like your sudden movement woke the two of them up as they eventually rose up and stared at you. A small smile planted on both their faces, they went back to lying down beside you.
ㅤㅤㅤYou had no idea what was going on. There was the drowning in the affection they were giving you but you felt as if the drowsiness was getting more and more intense with every passing second. You hadn't any idea of who changed your clothes and who patched you up and what happened after you passed out but you figured those questions could be brought up when all of you were awake and rested.
ㅤㅤㅤAll that you knew was that they loved you. No one had to say it, it was a feeling that you understood and knew just by the way they looked at you and held you in their arms.
ㅤㅤㅤAt that moment, all was fine. You felt safe and comfortable with them.
ㅤㅤㅤBut there was one thing:
ㅤㅤㅤIf you ever try to leave the two of them. . .
ㅤㅤㅤRemember:

ㅤㅤㅤKill Mode.


ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ=====

This was really delayed and I sort of procrastinated on it. If it was terrible then goodness do I beg you for your forgiveness. Having to do a science project amidst being a trainee nun is hard and it's manageable to a certain extent.