summary : You're on the hunt for an unsub who's forcing his victims to perform carnal acts or die. What you don't know is that he's set his sights on you and your colleague, Dr. Spencer Reid.
wc : 12k
tags/warnings : no use of y/n, dead dove do not eat, fuck or die, noncon/dubcon, nonconsensual filming, kidnapping, voyeurism, fingering, oral sex, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, forced orgasms
authors note : lowkey locked in and started writing again after like two years and made a new account because im into a completely different fandom now lol
★
“Do you think it’s the serial killer in Seattle?” You whispered to Emily, she had rolled her chair over to your desk when Hotch announced an emergency meeting in five.
”I don’t know what else it could be, it’s all the news is talking about. I’m just surprised we weren’t called in sooner, the escalation from this guy is practically unheard of.” She whispered back.
”I heard he’s up to four victims a day, I don’t know when this guy even sleeps.” You clicked through the files on your computer, trying to tie up any loose ends in your paperwork before the meeting. Anytime an emergency meeting was called it was almost always accompanied by a “Wheels up in ten.”
“They’re up to five,” Spencer leaned towards the partition between your desks, he didn't look up, his eyes still focused on the book in his hands. “We don’t know that the unsub is male, the victims are male and female.”
“It was originally just women, I’m like ninety percent sure it’s a man.” You cocked an eyebrow at Emily as you logged out of your computer, standing up and leaning over the partition to see what he’s reading.
The Divine Comedy
“Again?” You scrunch up your nose, you don’t know how he reads the same books over and over again.
“Yes, again.” He flips the page, his finger arched as it slides down the page, his eyes following the trail. When you first started you hadn’t believed them when they said no one reads as fast as Reid, you brought in book after book, trying to catch him in a lie until you couldn’t deny it anymore. “There’s actually a really interesting ongoing case in Toronto, a killer leaving pages with lines from Dante’s Infernos that seem to hint towards his next victim. I was hoping we might be called in to give some insight on the situation but it seems extremely likely that we’ll be on a plane to Seattle soon.” He closed the book, giving you that devastating little side smile of his.
Not his usual overworked, tight lipped smile he used most of the time at work. His genuine little smirk that he only used when he really meant it.
Don’t profile him.
It’s common courtesy. Don’t profile your fellow profiler.
“What do you think about this guy in Seattle?” You say as you watch him put the book into his go bag, he’ll finish it in the first five minutes on the plane.
”I think…” His voice trails off, running his fingers through his mess of hair. “Something about everything they’re releasing seems off, we’re missing a big chunk of information, that might be deliberate from the news stations or it might be a choice from the unsub. Either way I’m curious to see what the files say if this is in fact our case.” When he stood and started heading towards the conference room you followed, whispering to Emily about how you’d never been to Seattle.
Hotch was on the phone so you did your best to enter the room as quietly as possible, joining the group. You sit next to Spencer, watching as he rhythmically taps each of his fingers to his thumb, sorting out some kind of pattern you don’t understand. When he stops you realize he’s watching you stare, quickly, you turn away, cheeks burning hot.
Your relationship with Spencer was complicated.
Well, your lack of relationship with Spencer was complicated.
You joined the BAU a little under a year ago, taking the desk next to his. You’d heard all about him, the youngest member of the BAU, (until you arrived.) with an eidetic memory and an IQ to rival the brightest minds of the FBI. Meeting him made you realize he was the brightest mind of the FBI.
The boy genius.
Unfortunately for you, boy genius was also known by another nickname.
Pretty boy.
Something so stupid, that should have been inconsequential, opened your eyes to something you’d give anything to unsee.
The second the name left Morgan's mouth you had giggled into your hand, laughing at the idea of anyone thinking your dorky, walking encyclopedia of a desk mate was pretty. Instead you smiled at him, planning to give him a playful punch to the shoulder or a wink, instead you were staring into those ever changing hazel eyes. Wide eyed like a deer he watched as you had giggled, his gaze hit you like a punch to the stomach as you considered for the first time since you met him that Spencer Reid might be pretty.
Then you couldn’t stop considering it.
The way his hair curls around the ends. The way his eyes change colors in certain lighting. The way his slender, precise, fingers are constantly in motion, fighting to keep up with the speed his brain is working at. His pretty chin, his pretty lashes, his pretty brows, his pretty arms, his pretty hips, his pretty jaw. God that fucking jaw. Somedays you would just stare at his jaw, leering at him from your side of the desk as he works, all while you fight the urge to reach out and grab him by his pretty chin and kiss all along the edge of that pretty jaw.
You wanted to kill Morgan.
How were you supposed to get anything done once he opened your eyes to this? He had opened a door you couldn’t seem to close, no matter how hard you tried. And god did you try, but no matter what you did, he always did something in a certain way that drew you right back in.
The way he scrunched his eyebrows and got real quiet when he was focusing.
The way he always perked up when someone mentioned a book they were reading, no matter what it was.
The way he second guessed himself, even though no one else was doubting his knowledge.
The way he would decline a handshake. Claiming that it was more hygienic to kiss.
He had shaken your hand on your first day.
A fact that now haunted you, keeping you up at night as you tossed and turned and asked yourself, why?
It was easier not to think about it. It was the one case you just couldn’t seem to crack, and with real killers out there you had to focus on the cases that you could solve.
You resigned yourself to being his friend, and pushing down any unprofessional thoughts that lurked in the back of your mind.
“Let’s get started, we’ve got about twenty minutes before I want us on the jet.” Hotch passed out rather sizable files. You immediately opened yours, not at all surprised to see that you’re heading for Seattle. “I’m sure everyone here has heard plenty about the case but the public has not been made aware of the sheer extent of what’s happening.” He turned towards the screen, clicking the remote until it settled on a list of website links.
As you flip through the file your stomach churns, you can feel the tension in the rooms as everyone sees the same things you’re seeing.
The first body was found two years ago.
Four months after that a surviving victim came forward.
More bodies were found but none of them were connected to the crime until recently. They’d been so spread out in time and location no one had put the pieces together until now. They’re taking up to five people a day, with an expectation of continued escalation. It wasn’t just that they were killing people that made everyone in the room uneasy, it was what happened prior to the killings.
Local news broadcasts implied that the killer was taking victims captive, holding them for twenty four hours, and choosing at random afterwards to either kill them afterwards or release them. Like a Russian roulette of release or slaughter.
It’s clear that that’s not at all what’s happening.
Victims seem random, some are taken alone, some are taken in groups of two or three. Surviving victims report finding themselves in an empty room, with concrete floors, bare walls, a red door without a handle, and bright lights. The only thing in the room with them is miscellaneous bedding and anyone who might be with them. They don’t remember how they got there, or how they left.
Once they wake they are always stripped down to their underwear, the unsub speaks to them remotely, explaining to them a set or rules. From there they either play along or their body is found a few days later, always in dumpsters around the city. You can’t help but wonder how many bodies weren’t found.
“We can’t confirm every victim was related but we have good reason to believe there were dozens happening outside of Seattle.”
”I don’t understand, what exactly is he doing with them once he has them?”
”He’s making videos, and uploading them online.” Hotch motions towards the website list. “These are just the sites that have had the videos taken down, more pop up every hour.”
There’s so many.
“How the hell is that legal?” Morgan closes his case file, you watch as his fist clenches and unclenches.
“It’s not.” Spencer speaks without looking up from the file, you’re sure he’s read it over twice by now. “We’re dealing with a voyeur, he never makes appearances in the videos he’s making, but he micromanages every action taken by the victims.”
”Why isn’t it public knowledge that his motives are sexual?” Emily speaks up now, glaring at Hotch with a look that you know holds the rage that’s meant for the unsub.
“Many of the surviving victims didn’t initially reveal what was really going on, due to either shame or fear of not being believed. Stories didn’t match, people weren’t making the connection between cases.” He sounds tired, then again Hotch always sounds tired.
”Shame. This bastard’s likely preying on their humiliation, it’s how he gets off.” Morgan stands as he speaks, dialing his phone as he heads towards the door. “I’m gonna see if Garcia can link any solved missing persons cases to people in the videos, maybe see if we can identify victims who might’ve stayed quiet.” When he’s gone you turn back to Hotch.
“So he’s impotent?” You speak softer than the rest of the group, cringing as you flip to a page in the file that lists every video he’s made, the titles and victims listed beside each one. “He can’t perform so he lives out his fantasies vicariously through his victims, when they won’t play nice it reminds him of his own inabilities and he lashes out.”
“Not necessarily,” You can feel the heat off of Spencer's body as he speaks, putting his arm around your chair and leaning in close while his other hand points through the list you’re eying. “The titles of his videos are positive and speak almost highly of his victims, if he were impotent he would most likely resent his victims for being able to perform when he can’t. His videos would use much more degrading language.” His finger follows specific examples for you.
Beautiful girl gets a special treat from handsome stranger
Good girl solo session
Two men sharing a pretty lady
Gorgeous angel plays with herself
You try to ignore just how close he is to you as you read through the list.
“Then what’s his motive?” Your attention turns back to Hotch as he speaks, Spencer pulls himself back from you in one swift motion.
”If he’s not impotent then he’s a sexual psychopath.” This time when you speak you can see Spencer nodding in your peripheral vision. “He won’t stop until he’s caught, he feels no remorse for what he’s done and we can expect continuous escalation from here. He’ll go bigger and bolder until he gets sloppy and we catch him.”
“So we need to catch him fast.” You could see Emily thinking as she spoke. “The victimology is odd.”
“I noticed the same thing. It was all women and one at a time up until about nine and a half months ago. His solo victims are still exclusively women but now he often brings in men with them.”
“We need to find out what happened that made him switch.” Hotch turns the screen off, giving you all a curt nod. “Wheels up in ten.”
The team around you disperses, hushed whispers filling the space until they dissipate and it’s just you and Spencer, staring down into the case files.
“There’s something else in the victimology, why didn’t anyone point this out?” You hold the file out towards him. “All the female victims look the same.” You can tell by how he grimaces that he already realized that.
“Yeah, I noticed.”
“Then why didn’t anyone say anything! Clearly these women are a surrogate for someone else so…” Your voice trails off when you see the look on his face.
Oh.
The hair color, eye color, and body type.
They’re all the same as yours.
“I’m gonna grab a coffee before we board, do you want one?” He speaks softly as he stands, you nod, collecting yourself before following after him. Heading towards your desk to grab your go-bag.
★
“I know this isn’t pleasant for anyone but I need you all to understand exactly what we’re dealing with.” Hotch had his laptop set up where everyone could see it. The thumbnail of the video already made you feel sick.
A woman in her underwear, curled up in the corner of the room. A wiry young man in a shirt and his boxers sits in the middle of the room, hugging his knees to his chest.
“This kind of thing is my least favorite part of the job.” Emily grumbled beside you and you couldn’t help but nod in agreement. You have to remind yourself that you can handle this. You were selected to be a part of this team, you have to handle it.
You were the youngest on the team, like Spencer you were brought on in your early twenties, shockingly young for the BAU. You didn’t have the field experience most agents have before joining, just a specific set of skills that made you invaluable. Advanced pattern recognition skills, an encyclopedic knowledge of forensics, and of course the fact that you pieced together a dozen cold cases in college. You could catch a killer in your sleep.
Sex crimes were different, you didn’t have the experience in them and they made you a bit emotional. You knew it was something you’d eventually get used to, but that thought made you sad most days. You can’t imagine ever being desensitized to any of this.
“We’re just going to watch the first few minutes, I want to give everyone a chance to hear how our unsub speaks and how he reacts to things. I believe it will give us a much clearer understanding of what we’re walking into.” The entire plane was silent as he pressed play, standing silently like a statue, turned away from the screen. He had clearly already seen it and has no interest in watching it again.
It’s as bad as you expected, probably worse.
Hotch only made you all watch about five minutes, unfortunately that was too much for you. But he was right, it did give you plenty of insight into your unsub. They communicated with their victims through an intercom system, a disembodied voice that can be heard making demands. The thing that stands out to you most is the formality. He gives them detailed and clinical instructions, how to act, when to moan, what position to be in, all the way down to how fast he wants them to go. He signals them to begin with one clear command.
“Action!”
The two terrified victims moved shakily, the woman looking like she was on the verge of a breakdown, and the man had tears spilling down his cheeks. You could see the silver of his wedding band glimmering on the screen.
You knew from the file that the victims were almost always strangers, despite the fact that the female victims had visual similarities; they were still seemingly selected at random. Unlucky women who were in the wrong place at the wrong time, trapped because they looked a certain way. They looked like you.
It made you want to cry. Watching the way they trembled as they hesitantly touched each other, you could hear the man in the video repeating himself softly.
“Is- is this okay? Are you okay? I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
If you cried right now no one would think less of you, you almost let yourself. The woman is despondent, her eyes squeezed shut, when she starts to cry you have to look away. You can feel your companions glance in your direction and you know that they’re all thinking because it’s what you’re thinking.
She looks too much like you.
If you squint she’s your spitting image.
“Excuse me.” You mumble as you push past Hotch towards the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind you.
You are good at your job, great at your job, you’ve never let a case get to you before but this? It’s too much, you’ve never been asked to watch a video of two people being raped. It’s too much.
You run the water, letting the sound drown out the crying you can still hear out in the cabin.
“God damn it! At least pretend like you like it you stupid fucking slut!” So much for Spencer's theory that he thought highly of his victims. When you finally hear the laptop close and the audio turn off you step out of the bathroom, but not before looking yourself over in the mirror.
All you see is the girl from the video.
You stumble back out into the cabin, Derek has taken your seat next to Emily, they speak in hushed whispers as they work through her notes. When you step out she gives you a reassuring smile.
You take Derek's seat on the bench next to Spencer, he gives you a tight lipped sympathetic look. The last thing you want is for him to pity you.
“From the sounds of it he doesn’t hold much respect for his victims, the derogatory language would imply that he does resent them but the video titles say differently. I can’t wrap my head around it.” You speak in a hushed voice so only he can hear you as you open one of the files, flipping back to the page of titles. Not once does he use degrading language toward the women, he regrets them as beautiful, gentle, angels.
“Something seems to be happening between the videos being made and the upload time that makes him feel…” He chews on his lip, his brows furrowing as he searches for the solution.
“Regret?”
“No, regret would imply that he feels badly about this, as a sexual psychopath he feels no remorse for what he’s done. It’s almost like he’s lying to himself with the titles, like that’s what he wants them to be. They can’t live up to whoever he wants them to be.” He sounds unsure but it makes sense. Whoever he’s using these women as a surrogate for is who he actually wants, these women can’t live up to her no matter how hard they try. But when he titles and uploads the videos he’s thinking of her, so the language switches back to favorable. He turns to look at you, both of you eye to eye, a strangely serious moment as he runs his fingers along the spine of the file. “Are you okay?”
It’s so earnest it nearly knocks the wind out of you, his big hazel eyes searching for an answer.
“I’m… fine. It’s just hard sometimes, but I think I’m alright, I’ll feel even better when we catch this guy.” You give him an encouraging smile that you know doesn’t reach your eyes. “But I appreciate you checking in.” The look of relief he gives you nearly melts your heart.
“Then let’s catch this guy.” His smile falters a bit as he thinks. “Something just isn’t clicking for me, it’s incredibly frustrating.”
“We’re missing something.” You mumble as he nods.
“Something vital. It’s like we’re missing one big puzzle piece right in the middle of a nearly finished picture.”
“Exactly. I understand that there must be a woman out there that he’s focused on but I just feel like there are too many possible alternative motives.” You flip through the victims photographs, living and deceased. “Is he a porn addict? Maybe the stuff online just wasn’t doing it for him anymore so he resorts to making his own?”
“I was thinking the same thing but from what I can tell the videos he’s making are relatively tame. I had Garcia send me a list of all the general themes in the videos and it’s all pretty standard vanilla intercourse, he isn’t having them engage in anything objectively taboo.” He holds the sheet out to you, you take it from him, immediately searching the page for answers.
Missionary
Missionary
Missionary
Missionary with handcuffs
Missionary
Medical Play
Missionary
Doggy Style
Missionary
Gun Play
Missionary
”Medical play?” You scrunch up your face as you try to imagine that, all you can think about is needles.
“Not at all uncommon, typically a doctor patient roleplay involving very impersonal, and detached intercourse.” You want to poke at him for knowing that off the cuff but you’re too distracted by his choice of words.
“I hate that you call it intercourse.” You feign a grimace at him.
”That’s the professional terminology.” He grins back at you, a real bonafide Spencer Reid smile.
“I know, you just make it sound so… clinical.”
”In this setting it should be clinical!” His voice hitches up, his smile never faltering.
“I’m sure it is, Dr. Reid.” You tease as you bump your shoulder against his. Laughing as his ears burn red, he clears his throat loudly.
“I would assume he’s trying to fulfil some specific fantasy but nothing he’s doing seems to have any correlation.” His tone stays light but you can tell this case is bugging him, he doesn’t like being confused, no one does but especially him.
“So is he a sexual psychopath or a sadist?” You throw him a bone, a question he can make sense of that you want an answer to.
“He doesn’t seem like a sadist, a sadist enjoys the cruelty of the act, although I wouldn’t fully rule out sadism. It’s actually rather fascinating reading the transcripts of our unsubs videos. He doesn’t seem to enjoy what he’s doing but he has to for some reason, it’s like it’s a chore. Not necessarily that it’s a compulsion that he can’t help but like it’s a job he’s clocking in for. I’m hoping when we speak to some of the victims we’ll get a clearer picture of what happened.” He speaks vividly with his hands, as he gets caught up in his ramblings a chime signals that you’re soon to land.
You felt yourself leaning into him as the plane began its descent.
You hope to get this entire case sorted and taken care of quickly. Everything about it made you queasy, the faster you got out of Seattle the better.
When you land you all end up in separate cabs heading in different directions. With too many victims and too many bodies it only makes sense to split up.
★
Your head hurts like hell.
Jesus, what the fuck happened last night? You definitely didn’t go out drinking, you didn’t catch the guy. Yet you feel like you have an absolutely wicked hangover. You can hardly open your eyes, the harsh fluorescent lights burning your retinas as you try to orient yourself.
Definitely not a hotel room.
You have no idea where you are.
Okay, that’s fine, just stay calm, it’s imperative in situations like these to remain calm.
“Find a focus point. The last thing that happened to you before you lost consciousness. Where were you? What were you wearing? Who was with you? What time was it?”
Hotch’s emergency hostage training rings around in the dizzy mess that is your train of thought.
You would have landed in Seattle around 8:00 P.M.
You were in a cab heading to the most recent surviving victims home.
You were wearing black trousers, and an olive green short sleeved turtle neck, you had tucked your blazer into your bag.
You were in the cab, there had been an unfamiliar sound, like air being let out of a balloon.
Or gas being released into a car.
Deep breaths.
In,
and out.
You force your eyes open, locking eyes on the first thing you can focus on.
Directly in front of you is a large red metal door, with no handle.
Fuck.
Turning quickly, your eyes find a folded pile of blankets, pillows strewn about, and a small room with four walls and no windows.
Fuck fuck fuck.
Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.
“Don’t freak out, at least not physically. The moment you break down you’re giving your captor power over you.”
You chewed the inside of your cheek, digging your nails into your palms as you steady your breathing.
In,
and out.
In,
and out.
In,
and out.
“Hello, Agent. You cannot fathom how delightful it is to finally meet you.” You immediately recognize the voice that crackles over the unseen intercom.
This can’t be happening.
You swallow, fighting the urge to scream.
”I would like to make a movie with you.” It’s like he’s in the room with you, you can practically hear the smile on his face. You cringe when you hear the wet sound of him licking his lips.
”I bet you would.” You fight the urge to mumble, speaking clearly as Hotch would instruct you to do. ”Is this the part where I choose between being murdered or being raped?” You turn your head, trying to find where the camera you know is watching you might be.
“Oh, no, you sweet thing, you wound me.” His voice is a sickening coo, as if he’s soothing a frightened animal. “You, and your whole team, you misunderstand me.”
”Our entire job is to understand you.” You scoff, desperate to appear nonchalant while your head spins and your heart races.
”And you are doing a terrible job.”
”Then why don’t you help me, fill in the gaps, let’s start with a name.” You try to act as confident as you’ve seen the rest of the team be when faced with an unsub.
”I think you know I cannot answer that, it would ruin the fun before we have even started. I simply cannot have you screaming out clues during my movie.”
”Your movies? Is that what you call the snuff you’ve been peddling?”
“Oh come now, you think of me as some demented, perverse deviant. That is how I know your profile is all wrong.” By the time they find you you’ll be another girl on one of those websites. ”I am an artist.”
“I wouldn’t call anything you do art.”
”Art is subjective, perhaps you are not my intended audience.” He sounds so smug, you know he’s pleased with himself.
”And who is?”
”Hmm… What a question.” You know by the way his tongue clicks that whatever he says next will be a lie. ”People who want to feel something. Everyone likes sex, some people are just willing to admit it.”
”Bullshit. You’re making them for someone specific, a specific group of people just as sick as you are.”
“I suppose you are right, in a way. Some of my recent work has been… self indulgent.”
“So who’s the woman?” There’s only silence in response when you ask the question that's been on your mind since you read the file. “Who’s the unlucky lady that we all look like?”
The silence is deafening until you finally hear that crackling voice again.
“I cannot wait to start, angel.”
”Then why haven’t we started? You’ve got me here, I’ve seen your videos, I know how this goes.” You’ve seen Hotch push and push an unsub until they crack but you don’t have the experience he does and your voice shakes.
”Clearly you do not, or you would not have so many questions.” There’s a pause again, as he thinks something over before you hear him again, for the first time he sounds almost unsure. ”We simply cannot start without your co-star.”
Your entire body froze, your breath catching in your throat.
In all of his videos with multiple people they all wake up together, why would he stray from his usual routine just for you? You have no idea and you aren’t excited to find out.
“Until then I suggest you get comfortable, I am not sure how long it will take before he makes an appearance but I have a sneaking suspicion you will not be in suspense for very long.”
”What do you mean?”
The laugh that flows from the intercom settles in your stomach, heavy and vile.
“I know he will not keep you waiting, I am certain it will only be a few hours before we are ready.”
You open your mouth to question further but the speaker clicks and you know the conversation is over. Looking around the room you know there’s nothing you can do but wait. Clawing at the door will get you nowhere. Screaming will get you nowhere. And crying will get you nowhere.
Pacing the room tells you next to nothing, the walls are concrete, as well as the floor, there’s no windows.
Likely underground.
You trace your fingers along the edge of the red door, there’s no gaps, when you push yourself up against it there’s no give. The ceiling is a mess of pipes and wires, you know somewhere up there are cameras, capturing your every move.
Not the best situation to find yourself in.
“It will only be a few hours before we are ready.”
You feel like an inmate on death row. You know without a shadow of a doubt that the team doesn’t have a sufficient profile to find you in the next few hours, unless they pull off some kind of miracle.
What twisted fate does he have in store for you. The possibilities for your ‘co-star’ are endless. You’re almost thankful for the hiss of gas as you feel your vision get blurry, at least he isn’t going to make you sit here and stew.
★
This time when you wake you’re being shaken by someone, your immediate instinct is to fight, if this is your captor this will likely be your only chance to escape. You grab at the hands on your shoulders, forcing them away from you as you kick wildly, throwing yourself at him and pinning him down, until you’re straddling him under your hips. You’re about to start punching, as hard as you can so you take a moment to force your eyes open once again. It will do you no good to slam your fist into concrete.
When you open your eyes you aren’t met with a stranger though, instead you’re staring at familiar wide hazel eyes.
“Hey, you’re all good, it’s just me.” His voice is so soft, like he’s not about to take a beating, hands up defensively and all. “Just me.”
“Oh my god.” Too many thoughts are firing through your brain, instead of focusing on the horrifying implications of his arrival you fold over against him, wrapping your arms around his neck as you embrace him.
Hesitantly, his arms wrap around you as well, anchoring you in this sea of madness.
“I’m gonna guess based on your reaction that you know exactly where we are.” His words are still gentle as he holds you tight, releasing you when you finally pull back, crawling off of him. You both orient yourselves, standing and doing a turn about the room.
“I woke up alone, he changed his MO.” You listen, waiting for your captor to finally make himself known. You know he’s there, he wouldn’t miss this. Watching with bated breath for both of your reactions.
He winces as he reaches for the back of his head.
“I wasn’t gassed or slipped something like his usual victims either,” He turns to you, concern becoming more and more apparent on his face. “did he talk to you?”
“Briefly, he definitely fits the sexual psychopath profile, he doesn’t think anything he’s doing is wrong. What do you remember? How did he get you here? I was knocked out in the cab, then I woke up here…” You trail off as you motion for him to turn so you can look at the back of his head. You tentatively run your fingers through his hair, you find a bit of blood drying, it looks like he’s been bludgeoned with something. “He’s never physically hurt a victim like this, he doesn’t get hands on unless they don’t cooperate and even then it’s almost always done with a gun. All the victims were shot to death, not beaten.”
“We‘re still dressed.” Spencer motions to himself, he’s still in his button up, cardigan, and dress pants and you’re still in the same clothes as well.
“Just another thing we can add to the list of things that make no sense.” You’re so close, you can taste it. “Maybe because we’re federal agents? He isn’t sure what the best course of action is because he’s never dealt with something on this scale.”
“I just don’t get it.” He’s still hung up on the clothes, you can tell as he pulls on his tie, straightening it. You both know from the tapes and files that the first thing he does is undress his victims, leaving them in their undershirts, bras, and underwear. “It’s a part of the ritual, he shows them how much control he has over them by stripping them of basic comforts.”
“We’re different.” Your voice falls to a whisper. Everything is different for you two, like you’re his guests of honor.
“All the other victims recall being taken together, from the same location, we weren’t selected at random like them. We hadn’t even spoken to the local police department when you were taken, did he anticipate our arrival? Is he concerned about the FBI getting involved?” The gears in your head twist and turn as he rambles on. Painting a horrifying picture as you realize the only possible explanation. “And then he took me, which makes no sense. He already has you, if he plans to ransom us back then he doesn't need two of us.”
He isn’t going to ransom you.
“If his goal was just to make another video he would have done it with just you.”
That wasn’t his goal.
“Reid.” Your voice cracks but he’s hyper focused now on his own mental processings, his hands waving around as he paces back and forth.
“Is it respect? Because of our positions in the bureau? It would make sense why we’re still dressed, but he’s previously taken doctors, lawyers, plenty of people in positions of authority. It makes no sense for him to stray just for us.”
We’re different. Different from every single person he’s taken previously.
“Reid.” Your voice is so quiet now you can’t blame him for not hearing you.
“No- no, that makes no sense, he shouldn’t have taken you at all, he’s been so cautious up until now. He moves with the intention of never getting caught, our unsub isn’t stupid enough to choose federal agents as his targets. Is it possible we’re dealing with-”
You step in front of him, effectively silencing him and stopping him in his tracks.
“He’s been after us all along.” For a moment his expression is blank, you watch as his eyes get wider, and wider. And just like it did for you, everything clicks into place, he’s given no time to react as the crackle of the intercom makes both of you look up.
“I have been after you all along.” That polite voice rings out once more.
Your entire body tenses up.
Shoulders and jaw locking into place as your feet step into a defensive stance.
You know he isn’t talking to Spencer.
“My girl.” He speaks in a gooey, loving tone that makes you want to crawl out of your skin. “I have been after you since you first graced my screen all those years ago. How lucky I was to stumble upon you as I wasted away, searching for my muse. And finally, completely by accident, there you were. An FBI training video, used to educate the public on a few basic things, you smiled and talked about your program. I must have watched that video a thousand times. You had but a few moments on screen but god were they glorious.”
You can feel Spencer's presence change, he was on edge before but now his body language shifts from nervous to something else. His mouth is settled into a deep frown as he steps between you and the door, like he can protect you from this nightmare.
Oh my god.
Spencer.
You’d been so relieved to have someone here with you that you hadn’t even begun to process the implications of his presence. And now he’s here, standing between you and a man obsessed with you.
You need to get him out of here immediately.
”You were glowing, the camera loved you.” He speaks about you like you’re a past lover, someone he once knew dearly and is now reminiscing about. “I could not get you out of my head after that. In everything I watched, I compared every actress to you. I looked online, desperately trying to find someone, anyone, who could hold a candle to you. Every woman I brought here, every cheap trinket, was a pale comparison to your light.”
“Then why bring Reid into this at all? I’d think you’d want me all to yourself?” You manage to keep your tone even despite the fact that you feel deep in your bones like he’s already violated you. “Maybe our profile was right, you’re impotent, so you had to bring someone in to do the job you know you can’t.”
In a way he has already violated you, through every woman he brought here as a surrogate for you.
All of these people suffered because of you.
“Don’t taunt him.” Spencer whispers, soft enough that your captor likely can’t hear him. “It will only result in a negative reaction. I’m starting to think he really is a sadist.”
“Maybe I am.” For the first time you hear his prim and proper tone drop to something darker, more authentic. ”A sadist, that is, as far as the impotence goes, I do not think that is a theory you want to test.” Spencer's reaction is more severe than your own as he practically growls. The subtle changes that you’ve been trained to notice, the clicking of his jaw, the clenching and unclenching of his fist, the tilt of his gaze as his stare turns to a glare. “I felt more like a masochist than a sadist when I was finally able to see you again on my screen, after searching for so long for a morsel of information on you. You were not an easy girl to find. I remember my joy, my pure bliss, when I saw you again. A euphoria that was immediately destroyed by the presence of Dr. Reid.” You’re pretty sure you know what he’s talking about, when you joined the BAU you were sent out with Spencer to a few schools around Virginia to talk to the students about becoming a profiler. They did a news segment on it, Penelope, Morgan, and Emily teased you about it for weeks because you were staring at Spencer like a schoolgirl in love the whole time. “My heart was broken into a thousand tiny pieces. My shining star, ogling some man in a constant state of disarray. Mismatched socks, tangled hair, wrinkled pants, it was nearly enough to drive me mad. How could my angel settle for such a mess?”
”Reid and I aren’t together.”
”We aren’t together.”
The two of you respond in unison, the room fills with crackling laughter.
”I told myself that… that it did not matter, that I could just have you and be happy. And for a while that was the plan. Until I went to Quantico to see you.”
You want to vomit.
You’ve probably seen him before, he was there, watching, and you missed it.
”You and your precious team, out at some dive bar, it took all my strength to not take you then and there. But I told myself to wait. I told myself everything had to be perfect. I told myself that your colleagues would spoil everything if I tried to take you then. I told myself it would not hurt to buy you a drink, to say hello, but as I made my way over to you, you were intercepted by Dr. Reid.” It doesn’t take a background in profiling to tell that he isn’t as fond of Spencer as he is you. ”And you just lit up.”
Even in this moment, in this situation, you find yourself burning red with embarrassment. Your little crush on Spencer was coming back to bite you in the ass in full force.
“Like he was the sun, and not just some insignificant dying star in your orbit.”
In the most twisted way humanely possible.
”I knew then and there that I could never make you shine like that. I want your films to be perfect. You would not be perfect all alone, you would be dull, but with Dr. Reid you will sparkle like a diamond.”
“I‘ll do whatever you want, please, just let him go.” You hope your voice doesn’t shake too bad as you call out to the faceless man. You can’t help but ask for his safety now that you know it’s too late.
”You will do whatever I want regardless, even if it pains me, he is an integral part of this production.”
You turn, walking to the nearest wall and slumping down against it, it’s all you can do to keep yourself from screaming. All you’ve wanted to do since you woke up here is scream.
“I have seen the way he looks at you too. From an objective and artistic standpoint he is the perfect scene partner, looks of yearning that I could not beat out of an actor.”
Spencer is silent as you look up at him, a few tears finally slip past your steely resolve and down your cheeks, blurring your vision so you don’t see his reaction as he turns away from you.
“Make yourself comfortable, agents. We start shooting tomorrow.” You’re left with the click of the intercom and your own uneven breathing.
The energy in the room has shifted from awful to downright unbearable.
Spencer eventually sits against the wall opposite to you, you watch him through your hair as he twitches, fingers tapping against each other until they grow restless and sift through his hair instead.
“I suppose the first conclusion we should have come to is that we’re set to meet the same fate as the previous victims” He breaks the silence first, sounding haggard.
The same fate.
The man behind the voice is going to make demands of you very soon and if you don’t meet them he’s going to be sending you back to Quantico in bodybags.
“His speech is overly formal, no contractions, he’s a control freak. Likely in a position of power with a career that lets him afford a set up like this and lets him take time off to spend with his victims.” Your tone is monotonous as you continue to stare at your shoes rather than him.
“We don’t need to profile him right now.” God does he sound sincere when he says it. He’s typically all work and no play but now, here, even he can’t keep that up.
“Then what are we supposed to do?”
“Evaluate our options.” He stands, cautiously walking to your side of the room and sitting down beside you, giving you a wide berth of space. “We have a general idea of what to expect tomorrow, we should… make decisions.”
“On if we’re gonna rape each other?” You don’t mean to sound so harsh but you can’t help it, you immediately regret it when he flinches like he’s been slapped.
“I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to, I swear.” He scootches a little further away as if to prove his point and you hide your face in your hands, stifling another scream that eventually escapes as a groan.
How many times have you imagined being with him? How often do you spend your lonely nights after closing a case lying in bed, wide awake, imagining what it would be like if he were beside you? And here he is, practically being served to you on a silver platter.
“Reid…”
“I mean it. I don’t care about the alternative, you’re in charge here, whatever you say goes.”
“You get a say in this too you know.”
“It’s different.” He sounds so sure.
“It’s not.” You’re offended on his behalf that he would assume he doesn’t have a choice here. “You have as much of a choice as I do.”
“I need you to trust me, it’s different.” It clearly pains him to say it, it makes you want to reach out to comfort him but you can’t move. Your body is still locked up defensively.
“Explain.”
“This situation is bad enough as is, I’m begging you not to make me do this.” He sounds so beaten down you know it would be cruel to push.
“Fine.”
“Thank you.”
“I think we should do it. It’s the obvious choice, it’s the only way we make it out of here alive.” You say it like you’re making a decision on something as mundane as what to have for lunch.
“I agree.”
“We won’t be like the others, it won’t just be one time. He’s been saying films, plural.” He’s been waiting for you, he isn’t going to make one little movie, he’s going to make a whole franchise with the two of you.
“He plans on keeping us.”
“Until the team finds us.”
After they watch every movie you make.
“Are you up for that?”
Up for sex with the coworker you’ve spent the last year fantasizing about?
“I don’t know.”
This is punishment for every sick, perverted thought you’ve ever had about him.
“You don’t have to decide now, you can change your mind whenever you want.” He says it as if changing your mind wouldn’t result in fatal consequences.
“No amount of talking it over first is going to make this okay, you know that, right Reid?” You snap, tired of the voice in your head demanding your attention.
What if you like it?
“Hey, we’re gonna be okay. We’re gonna go step by step, and I don’t care what the consequences are, if you want to stop we’ll stop. And we can take breaks, and we can be professional about it, I can make it very detached-”
What if he realizes you like it?
“Can we lay down?” Your voice is small, and tired. You really are tired, even if you’re mostly just desperate for him to stop talking.
“I’ll set up the blankets.” He gives you the closest thing to a smile that he can as he lays out a few of the blankets on the cold concrete, making something akin to a bed as you lay down beside him. As if on cue the fluorescent lights above you flicker out until only a small red bulb is left, bathing you in the dim light.
“He’s probably still watching us.” You whisper as you roll over, the two of you face to face, even in the dark you can make out his concerned features.
“I’m sure he is. There’s no privacy here, even in our whispers.” He speaks softly too, and you know he’s right.
You’ll be under nonstop observation in this little room.
“Goodnight, Reid.” You whisper as you roll away from him, facing the wall in the darkness.
He doesn’t respond, all you hear is fingers tapping on the cement beside you.
★
You know the man on the intercom is speaking to you but all you can hear is the ear splitting ringing in your ears.
“Five times?” You squeak out as Reid takes your hand in his, giving you a reassuring squeeze.
“I would like to see what my new toys can do. So yes, I want to see five orgasms from my shining star, I do not care how you do it, I just want it to happen. As a bonus, I will not even micromanage you, I will let you work through it together, I want the scene to feel organic and natural. ”
You couldn’t bring yourself to talk to Spencer when the two of you woke up and now you’re regretting it, you should have come up with a game plan.
But you didn’t, and now you’re being given instructions that you don’t know if you can follow.
Five? With the pressure you’re under right now? Not to mention that the most you’ve ever done in a row is two and you did it yourself. None of your previous partners had ever given you more than two orgasms, most of them struggled to give you one.
“I can’t do this.” You can feel your heart starting to race once, your breath shaky and quick. If you don’t pull it together you’re gonna start hyperventilating.
“Why should we listen to you at all? Clearly you adore her, you wouldn’t hurt her like your other victims, what would stop us from sitting here and waiting for the rest of our team to finally arrest you.” You want to tell him to stop, you know it won’t make a difference.
“Dr. Reid, you are not in a position to be arguing with me. She may not be expendable but you certainly are.”
There is a moment of quiet between the two of them, you watch as Spencer goads him, cocking an eyebrow as he looks up towards the ceiling.
“If you refuse to cooperate I suppose she and I will have to sort out the next course of action. Let us play a round of Would you Rather, my angel.” Everytime he calls you by a pet name you want to claw your own ears off. “Would you rather, I come into that cell of yours and shoot your companion dead and have you all to myself? I do not know if I can promise to keep my hands to myself while in such close proximity to you all alone, I might just have to indulge in a taste. Or would you rather I keep him alive, chain him to the wall in your room, draw out his life for god knows how long as I make you watch him decay? Of course I’ll still want to make my movies so you will have to touch yourself as you watch me stick a funnel down his throat. I wonder how much gasoline he will have to drink before he loses the attitude? Which of those options is preferable to you, my love?”
You just burst into tears.
Your entire body trembles as you do your best to remain standing. He catches you, pulling you into a hug as you let out a sob, praying you might wake up and realize this was all just a terrible dream. You can feel him rubbing circles into your back for a few quiet moments, you know that the absence of commentary from the unsub is his way of letting you know he’s waiting for your decision.
“I can’t- you can’t. I can’t be alone with him, please Reid- don’t leave me alone with him.” You mumble into his shirt as his hands go to your shoulders, he pulls you back and bends down to be eye level with you. Your noses just a few inches apart, he’s shockingly calm as he nods.
“Hey, it’s okay, we’re gonna be okay.” He says it so confidently you almost believe him.
Almost.
”I won’t leave you alone with him, I promise.” His hands cup your face, thumbs brushing away stray tears. “We can do this, you can do this.” You try to nod but his hands hold your head in place, his eyes are dark as he stares at you with an intensity that makes you want to avoid his gaze.
“Spence-” You don’t know what you’re going to say, but whatever it was is cut off when he leans forward and crashes his lips into yours.
Your brain has no time to process what’s happening as you relinquish any resistance and let him.
He kisses you like he’s hungry. Like he’s starving for it. Not like he has to do it because some pervert is watching from behind a screen and expects it of him. Your mouth matches his movements as best it can, trying to keep up with the sheer ferocity. His mouth opens, demanding more and more as you feel his teeth graze your bottom lip you gasp and he pulls back.
“I won't leave you alone.” He sounds so sure of himself all you can do is nod. “Just pretend he’s not here, it’s just you and me.” He pulls you close again, fingers tapping against the back of your neck as he presses his forehead to yours. “Just you and me, can you do that?”
“Y-yeah, I can do that.” Your heart is racing so loudly he can definitely hear it.
It’s just the two of you.
“We can do five, all you have to do is lay here, okay? I’m gonna take care of it. I’m gonna take care of you.” You don’t understand how he can be so collected right now but you’re glad he is because you’re struggling to put together sentences. “I know it’s a lot, you’ll be okay, I’m gonna handle it. We’re gonna get through to the end. If we can do that we’ll be all done for a little while.”
“But that’s just one day done, we don’t know how long-” You’re starting to spiral as he gently places his hand over his mouth, quietly shushing you.
“One day at a time. We’re gonna take this one day at a time.” He slowly lowers his hand, nodding at you as he does. “I want to hear you say it’s okay.”
“It’s okay.” You don’t sound at all sure of yourself as he guides you to the blankets and eases you down so that you’re laying down propped up on a pillow.
“I want to hear you say what we’re gonna do so that I know you understand. I’m not going to stop until you’ve come five times.” His fingers hover above the button of your pants. Those fingers that you’ve stared at from your own desk. Fingers that you constantly find yourself fixated on. Long, defined, adept. You’ve seen him solve rubix cubes, spin pens, and flip through books. You’ve dreamed about those fingers and now they’re here, taunting you.
“You’re going to take care of it.” You stare at him, his pupils are so blown his eyes look almost black, his hair is a mess, it always is. He’s waiting, he wants a proper response. “I want you to take care of it.”
That’s clearly what he wanted to hear.
With expert dexterity his fingers loop around the button of your slacks and pull it up and open while his other hand slides your zipper down.
“I’m going to partially undress before I touch you, to make you feel more comfortable and less exposed in comparison.” He’s already tugging his black cardigan off, tossing it aside as yanks his tie loose, throwing it in the same direction. Without missing a beat he unbuttons his shirt, leaving it on but fully unbuttoned as you stare at the skin there. Even now you can’t help but gawk at the pale skin. He isn’t muscular by any means, but you can see that he’s surprisingly toned. You do your best not to stare wide eyed, everything about this situation is awful, you don’t need to make it worse by getting caught staring.
Although it probably doesn’t matter considering what he’s about to do.
He’s so gentle with you. One hand sliding under you to lift you a tiny bit as he pulls your slacks down until they’re completely off, folding them in half before he sets them aside. Only Spencer fucking Reid would nicely fold your pants before fingering you.
Jesus Christ, this is happening.
You lay back, unable to look at him as you arch your hips to help him as he slides a finger under both sides of your panties. You take a deep breath as he removes them as effortlessly as your pants, setting them aside as well.
You squeeze your legs together, tilting your head back and closing your eyes. You can feel his hands on your hips, grounding you for a moment as you try and slow your breathing.
One of his hands moves from your side to the center, you burn hot, covering your face with your hands as he tenderly spreads your legs and there’s no going back as you find yourself completely exposed to him. He’s silent, you can feel him still holding your thighs apart now as you sit up, daring a look at him. He lays in front of you on his stomach, staring at your core with an intensity you’ve seen him use when he can’t solve a case and he’s spent an hour just staring at the white board.
“Jesus, Reid, you do know what you’re doing, right?” You can’t help it as you grumble, exasperated.
“I know what I’m doing, I’m just trying to decide the best course of action to do this as efficiently as possible.” His tongue pokes out of his mouth, wetting his lips as you lean back again, groaning this time.
He’s torturing you.
“Please- please just do it.” You try not to sound like you’re whining but at this point why bother holding on to any dignity you have left? All of your self respect went out the window the second he pulled your panties down. If he keeps laying there just staring at it you’re going to take matters into your own hands.
Thankfully, that seems to be all he needed to hear, you feel his fingers brush up against you as you suck in a sharp inhale. One hand resting on your hips, holding you in place as the other finally brushes up against you. You can feel him moving tentatively as he parts your folds, swiping a digit through the wetness there.
He knows exactly how much you like this you sick fuck, look at you, dripping.
When the pad of his thumb swipes over your clit you squeak, arching your back until he gently pushes you back down, he moves in slow, precise, circles that make your head spin. A finger prods at your entrance for only a moment before he pushes it fully in.
Your curiosity gets the better of you and you prop yourself up on your elbows, a whimper slipping past your lips as he curls his finger, pressing into that sensitive spot that almost makes you fall back over.
His pretty brown locks are tucked neatly behind his ears now. His eyes, still dark and wide, his brow furrowed. You watch him lick his lips for a moment before he curls his finger again, simultaneously pressing down hard on your clit. Testing, seeing what makes you tick. You can’t suppress the moan that bubbles out of you. He’s so meticulous, timing the pumping of his finger with the slow circles of his thumb, he finally looks away from your cunt to stare at your face, watching your reaction as he abruptly adds another finger without warning. Your eyes squeeze shut as you gasp. They feel better than you ever could have imagined, long and nimble, he works you like he’s an expert after just a few minutes of experimenting with pace and patterns. Curving them at the perfect time, in sync with the increasing pace of his thumb.
“Reid-” You start to groan his name as you can feel the knot forming in your stomach.
You’re going to come immediately and he’s going to know just how much of a slut you are. Writhing for him on the cold hard floor.
“Shh… I’ve got you.” He plays you like he knows your body better than you do, and at this point, he might. Before you can react he’s pistoning his fingers in and out of you as you let out an obscene sound. The hand that held your hips down is spreading your legs apart now, he watches, enraptured as you clamp down on his fingers, your legs trembling as he practically rips your first orgasm out of you. Your fingers claw at the pillows behind you as you arch your back up, pushing yourself against his fingers as you ride it out.
“Fucking- oh my god, Reid, Fuck-” You start to sit up but he coaxes you back down, sushing you softly, his fingers still slick as he slides them up and down your folds. You squirm under him, your sensitive bundle of nerves screaming for a moment's respite as he brushes up against them. “I need a second Reid.” You grumble but he doesn’t let up, deliberate little bumps against you as you whimper.
His pointer and middle finger find your clit now, applying just the right amount of pressure as you fight the urge to push him off of you.
“There was an interesting study done where a researcher suggested that the woman he was studying had a hundred and thirty four orgasms over the course of a single hour. Of course it’s difficult to track that sort of thing, they went based on her heart rate to get the number as close to exact as possible.” He’s unrelenting against you, his left hand grips your thigh, pushing your legs further apart as he continues.
“Reid, please.” you can’t handle his ramblings right now.
“Obviously what she was experiencing wouldn’t technically be classified as multiple orgasms, it would be considered stacked orgasms because she wasn’t given time to come down from her initial orgasm.” The knot in your stomach is already forming again, he picks up the pace, scooping up the wetness from your initial orgasm and using it as a lubricant for his brutal little movements, increasing the pressure until you’re a whimpering mess. “Typically with stacked orgasms the goal is to prevent a person from fully climaxing, and to keep them in an orgasmic state. I think that’s our best course of action if we want to get this done as quickly as possible.”
“I can’t- I- It’s already too much, Spence- Reid, I can’t do five like this.” Why is it so fucking hot when he does that? You hadn’t realized until just now how much you love the sound of his voice, even if you want to shove him off of you before he can force another orgasm out of you before you’re ready.
“If you’d like me to give you a break that’s completely fine but I think you’ll be better in the long run if we stack them. Not only will we be done sooner but if we take breaks our unsub will likely get bored and resort to more extreme forms of entertainment quicker. If we keep him entertained then he’s more likely to give us space to put on a show for him.”
“Put on a show for him? Is it a good idea to encourage him?” Your voice pitches up an octave as he lightly pinches your clit, his brow furrowing as he studies your reaction.
“He’s encouraged either way but if we play nice he’s far less likely to lash out or escalate.” You can feel your second orgasm approaching rapidly and you know he wants you to make a choice. He rubs your clit between his finger and his thumb and you just melt.
“Fuck, Reid.” You cover your face with your hands, letting loose a string of expletives.
“Don’t call me Reid, I think we’re beyond that.” He sounds so stern, a desperate edge to his voice that wasn’t there before. “Please.” He sits up as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge, you can see the focus on his face, and when you look down you can see the reaction in his pants.
Completely normal, he’s a straight guy, you’re like a personal pornstar in front of him right now, try not to be too flattered.
“Spence- Spencer, fuck.” You can hardly think straight with all of this, all you know is that you trust him. “Fine, you’re right, do it. Whatever you need to do to do the stacked thing.” Your words fade into groans as your second orgasm hits you, another wave cresting over you. You hardly get a moment to breathe before you can feel him shifting positions, you shoot up when you feel the wet, hot heat of his mouth clamp on to you. “Spencer!” His name is punched out of you as his tongue encircles your engorged clit. He runs his tongue up and down your dripping seam before he pulls away, lips wet and pink as he stares up at you with those stupid puppy dog eyes. “What the fuck!”
“We agreed he needed a show to be kept happy.” He sounds confused as to why you’re stopping him, the look on his face is so close to disappointment that you just lay back.
“Then put on a show.” You mumble as he returns to his work, you bury your face in your hands, trying to swallow the moans fighting their way out of you as he wraps his lips around your clit. His tongue moves in rapid patterns, alternating between sucking and licking at you, eating you just like he kissed you, like he’s starving. Your fingers eventually find themselves tangled in his hair, tugging at him gently as he devours you.
You lose it when he moans against you.
A low whine as he rocks against a pillow he placed under his hips when you weren’t looking.
You’re so fucked.
The sight of him sends you over the edge that you’re becoming all too familiar with.
Already? Jesus, he definitely knows that you like this.
A painful overstimulation, coupled with the force of your third shaking orgasm. Your thighs squeeze his head and, god, he doesn’t let up even for a second. Your entire body feels hot, tears prickling at your eyes. It’s too much, you’re glad you told him not to stop because honestly you don’t know how you’d start again. Your thighs shake, and you’re fighting the urge to kick him away as he tilts his head down the tiniest bit, his tongue lapping at your weeping hole as his nose bumps your clit.
“Reid- Spencer, Spence.” You’re limited to a stuttering of his name as his arms loop under your thighs, throwing your legs over his shoulders, effectively locking you in place as he pulls you closer. His tongue delves into you as he buries his face between your legs, pushing himself deeper and deeper until your back is arching up and off the ground.
You’re trapped between two urges. The need to kick him off of you to ease the pain, to stop the delicious burning being delivered to your overworked clit with every focused lap of his tongue. After three orgasms every touch is like a flaming hot poker that you just can’t get enough of. The other urge is to grab him by the back of his head and hold him there forever.
That urge is the one that won out in the end. Your hands tangling themselves into his curls, tugging shamelessly at him, needing more and more of the delicious pain he’s drilling into you. Your body is spent, writhing as he tries his damndest to pull another orgasm from you.
”I don’t think I can-“ You mumble out through breathy moans, pulling admittedly a little too hard on his hair, but all that earned you was a lengthy groan, the vibrations rocking through your center.
“You can.” He’s muffled, you can hardly hear him as he stays buried in your cunt, refusing to pull back for even a moment.
You’re glad he seems so sure because you certainly aren’t. He pulls one of his arms back, slotting his fingers between your folds once more. Easily sliding two fingers back into you as let out a pitiful squeak.
Yeah, you can.
You definitely can, he presses his fingers deep, focusing on that sweet spot nestled away inside of you.
When they say Spencer Reid knows everything they really mean it, he knows how to twist his tongue against you in a way that makes you scream like a fucking pornstar. He knows how to work his fingers into you and find every single nerve that lights you up. He knows how to work you better than you work yourself. When he adds a third finger you feel yourself tensing again. He works tirelessly, never faltering. Tears are flowing freely now from your eyes, you’re so fucking tired, everything hurts, everything feels so good. When he flattens his tongue against your clit you gush around his finger, soaking the bottom half of his face.
You can’t remember ever coming so hard, let alone squirting like this. It’s enough to snap him out of his animalistic state, when he looks up at you try not to look too shocked.
You’re probably just as much of a sight at this point.
His lips are wet and swollen, he wipes the bottom half of his face on his shirt and you recall every time he’s made a big deal of germs around the office. Clearly that’s all been abandoned. You’ve put his hair in a state of disarray. When you finally look him in the eyes you can’t look anywhere else.
Dark and desperate.
“Was that five?” Your voice is raw and quiet, when you break the silence he shakes his head, crawling up your body until he’s on all fours above you. His knee locked firmly between your thighs, likely soaking his pants with your juices.
“Almost.” He whispers back, his tongue poking out before he chews his lip. You shake your head in return, your entire body trembles as a fresh flood or tears rushing out of you.
“No, no I can’t do another one, I’m all done.” You bring your hands up to cup his cheeks, begging him as if this is his choice and not some cruel gods, still watching you somewhere on a little screen as if this is all just a silly little movie and not your sadistic reality.
“You can, I know you can, you’re so strong. You’re so good.” He whispers so sweetly, it almost makes you forget the circumstances of all of this. “Just one more, I know you can last just a little longer.”
“Spencer, please, it hurts too much.” You cry unabashedly. Moving your hands down his neck to his chest, clinging to his shirt collar. His touch is light as he brushes your hair back and out of your face.
“Deep breath, stay with me sweetheart.” He kisses your forehead and it really does make a difference in grounding you. It’s so strangely personal and intimate, even knowing that he’s gonna have to put you through another crushing orgasm he treats you with such tenderness.
“Please.” Your voice sounds so small, and you’re thankful for the recognition in his eyes when he nods. He knows you aren’t asking him to stop, you’re asking him to finish this.
When he kisses you this time he isn’t as forceful as he was the first time. There’s a gentleness, it crosses your mind that he isn’t putting on a show for the camera with this kiss, this kiss is just for you. For just the two of you.
You whimper when his hand wanders down your body and between your legs for what you hope is the final time today. You feel raw down there, you know he can feel it too because his hand flies back up to his mouth, you watch with morbid fascination as his lips part and he sucks his fingers, wetting them and returning them to your cunt.
“You’re doing so good, so good, so good for me, all for me.” He’s moving in focused, deadly accurate circles. Kissing you between his praises, his free hand continues to sweep your hair away from your face. He’s hovering over you in an awkward position as he presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth while you whine. The muscles in your stomach ache and scream as you feel the burning knot forming once more.
You groan, the buzz of pleasure is almost entirely gone, replaced solely by the dull, blunt pain of overstimulation.
“Just me, just for me now, okay? This one isn’t for him, or anyone else, just me.” He’s rambling, picking up the pace, the strokes becoming more chaotic as he mumbles, seemingly to himself more than you. The shocks to your clit are erratic and relentless, as you feel yourself approaching a release you know is inevitable. His knee shifts, when his body presses down against you you can feel the outline of his cock against your hip, he positions himself in a way that can’t be comfortable, it makes it hard to focus on achieving any kind of release until you realize what he’s doing.
Just for him.
He’s covering you up, since you can’t see the cameras you have to assume they’re on the ceiling, tucked away near the fluorescents where you can’t find them. Regardless of where they are, if they’re from an elevated angle they won’t see your face, or most of your body as far as you're concerned.
Just. For. Him.
You cry out his name when you come, repeating it like a prayer as you sob against him, he kisses your face. Your cheeks, your forehead, your eyelids, your chin, and your lips as he murmurs against your skin.
“I knew you could do it, look at you. So good, so pretty.” Whispers branded onto your skin with his lips.
He wipes between your legs with the blanket, making you whine.
“You did so good.”
You’ve never felt so spent in your entire life. There’s no energy left in your body so you just let him work, he pulls your panties back up your legs. He tries to get your pants back on but the tight fabric makes you cringe so he doesn’t bother. Instead he wraps his cardigan around your shoulders before laying back, pulling you against his still bare chest with a sigh.
You sit in silence for what feels like hours, catching your breath and fighting sleep, your eyelids heavy.
The crackling of the speaker startles you, you’d been so focused on Spencer you’d almost forgotten the dark reality of your situation. For a moment your captor doesn’t speak, he just claps, loud, cruel, beats.
“I have no notes. I knew you would be incredible, I just- I did not realize how good it would be.” He sounds so worked up you swear he’s crying. “You really are my muse, you have inspired me, I have to go, I need to put together tomorrow's script, rest well my shining star.”
In a swift motion as if a switch has been flipped the lights go dark, and you’re left alone in the void with only Spencer to cling to. For a moment, you aren’t sure what to say. What do you talk about after what just happened? Eventually you figure it out, right as you’re about to pass out from exhaustion.
“You called me sweetheart.” You practically sigh the words out, your fingers find a button on his shirt, twisting it between your thumb and forefinger.
“I did, should I not have? I wasn’t sure if I could pull that off, I don’t think I’ve ever used a pet name on anyone, maybe ever. It’s kind of Morgan's thing.” He sounds apologetic as he combs his fingers through your hair before sliding them down your back.
“No, I liked it. Sweetheart works, it’s… timeless, and simple.” He rubs your back as you shut your eyes, mumbling against his chest as you trace a line up and down his sternum.
“Get some sleep.” You don’t bother resisting, you feel like you’re already halfway there.
“Goodnight, Spencer.”
“Goodnight, Sweetheart.”
a/n : hope yall enjoy, you can find me on ao3 under the same username, all updates go on there a few days earlier than they will on here
your older boyfriend toji shows you off to his friends <3
TW - a lot.. punishment, multiple older men, daddy kink, older dilf bf toji shows you off to his friends, anal toy, cunt spanks, commentary of his friends/humiliation, slight somnophilia at the end?? overall it’s just vile so be warned. MDNI
They’re all in their mid/late 40’s like toji - sukuna - choso - gojo - geto - nanami
Your legs were on top and dangling over tojis thighs. While he was buried deep inside of you. No one had ever taken him so well, so sweetly whimpering for more and greedily grinding onto his balls with your swollen clit. You just couldn't help yourself shoving your hips down to feel more of him. He had you in full view of the laptop that he placed on the table infront of you, the webcam showing every filthy drop of wetness that rimmed around his cock. Your wetness. More slick was building up rimming around his cock more and more everytime he slightly thrusted himself into you. It wasn't like he could get any deeper but still you loved him stretching your insides, filling you up until you saw stars.
"You take my cock so good baby, you make me feel reaaal good, baby." He grinned watching your cunt clench around him everytime he praised you as if you had forgotten your earlier words. His big rough hands grabbed your hips and rocking you back and forth on his cock. You could hear the grin in his voice and the cocky attitude he usually had while he fucked you, or just in general.
Right now it made you clench around him even more. He easily lifted you off his cock, all the way up so you could feel his tip drag down your walls and your hole. It hardly took any effort for him with how tiny you were compared to him.
Toji wasn't patient however. He could never properly play with you because you riled him up so much so without any mercy he slammed himself back in until your clit connected to his soaking wet balls — covered in your juices. "So wet, haven't even done anything you're already cock drunk, pussy crying f'me." He laughed. "And to say you called me old earlier.. little brat."
Oh yea.. you had pissed him off before this remember? he told you to behave and you touched yourself, so he would punish you.. no touching you for a week, when you turned around and said 'he must be too old and have no stamina to keep up with you so you had to use your toys because he just needed a break' something in Toji snapped.. His hot pretty young girlfriend daring him to fuck her silly? That was a treat. He was going easy, no touching you for a week was much nicer then what he would be doing now.
His sweet little thing was rather shy, not around him but around his friends you had been eying all fucking day last weekend when he had them over for a football game.
They couldn't believe it. Surely you weren't with him because you she loved him.. couldn't be the dick, you probably got plenty of that, younger, more handsome. Toji had a nasty scar across his lips that his friends often said scared girls like you away so really they didn't believe it. Didn't believe how you licked that same scar hearts in your eyes at your handsome boyfriend. So what was it? Money?
Toji pulled you off his cock again just allowing you to feel what it felt like to be empty before adjusting his hips and snapping up rapidly into you. Your knuckles went white from the grip you had on the arm rests of the chair. "To-ji! Ah! Pleas-e!" You screamed- moaned, choked out? You were already seeing stars. "Please fuck you harder? of course baby, that is what you wanted." He chuckled deeply, like this was actually funny to him. Your shaky legs. Wetness dripping down making a mess everywhere already. Your screams above all were what satisfied him most. "You're gonna need a break for a week after this." He taunted you his hips flexing up at the same agonising fast speed, you came not even aware you could so fast or without knowing you would; your entire body shook . You almost couldn't hold yourself up from his violent thrust. "And ya know what pretty? You won't fucking get one. Smart mouth."
He stopped fucking you but only for a minute only to have you properly sit in his lap. Your back flush against his hairy chest. You thanked whatever had gotten through in his head to not just fuck five straight orgasms into you. But you didn't for long. Your stomach twisted with need when you saw his big frame behind you in the camera. His big naked frame. His arms covered in small black hairs draped over yours. His scent that was mixed with slight sweat now; the scent you loved on him the most.. His cock hard and buried deep inside of you. Slightly hunched over causing you to do the same so he could grab his laptop off the table.
You heard the familiar sounds of a FaceTime call , and much to your horror your ears weren't ringing, his phone was. You couldn't see the laptop for a moment, he could only see his face now. He had worked this system before, just to know how to work it right now. So instead, he turned it the camera off. Placing it right infront of you again on the table.
Your pulse throbbed through your whole body still coming down from your first orgasm that came way too fast.."Ah, right on time to enjoy the party, Gojo." Your heart stopped, no.. "what can I say, there's no way you're not bullshitting us about this."
No...no,no.
"You're in for a surprise my friend.." he smirked. His large arms pressed down on your shoulders making you squeal. He was already so deep inside of you, this just made it even better- worse! Definitely worse. " someone's eager." his rough deep voice spoke into your ear almost gentle.. almost. You felt the vibration from his chuckle against your back. Degradingly. "You're fucking kidding me.." you heard gojos voice. Saw his eyes widen, only at the little squeal you made, there he was in the corner. You were more then familiar with him. He had told you how pretty your dress was last time your boyfriend threw a football game and many times before he complimented your clothing or your eyes. He wasn't shy of letting you know how beautiful he thought. He always admired how sweet you were, smiling when you asked if they wanted a beer and walking a couple times to bring them all because you couldn't carry them all in one go, anything you did he observed and adored.
Another beep began quickly it was added by you assumed gojo as Toji now had his hand between your legs slowly rubbing your clit. You were still so lost in your orgasm daze, the shock this caused you wasn't being processed. No you couldn't believe it.. Toji? Your jealous boyfriend? There way no w-"This.. this was something to work Toji." A familiar voice spoke up. Mellow, gentle, assertive like he knew how to speak to people because he did..The last you would've expected from tojis friends. "Oh.. trust me nanami.. this will be more then worth it." No.. not nanami! He was innocent.., he was light hearted and kind. He told you to take different medication because the ones you had before gave you a stomach ache- he was a doctor! An ethical pers- "oh, I expect it to be." The camera turned on.
An ethical person... "why you clenching so hard doll, should i be jealous..?" Toji moved a bit his cock twisting deep inside of you while he whispered those words in your ear. You shook your head. You didn't dare say a word knowing the two men on the other line were listening. You were praying this wasn't what you thought it was.. but you were stupid denying it still.
it didn't take more then twenty seconds for you to hear more voices.
"Am I late? He said 9:00 pm right?" Sugurus familiar deep voice spoke up. "All good, you're on time. Show hasn't started yet, if it ever will." Gojo still sounded like he didn't believe a word Toji had said as he looked at his friend (Suguru) through the screen.
When the screen filled up with six icons including your own black screen in the middle, you knew you were fucked.
"Now as I said, my sweet precious girl isn't just here for the money.. she also happens to love cock." Your lips parted when Toji moved forward and clicked on his own camera icon; on. The screen was filled now. Gojo. Geto. Nanami. Sukuna. Choso.
All people who your boyfriend had been friends with before you were even born. Sukuna. The man who had told you to stop eying him because his damn tattoos were older then you was somehow also here. You squirmed in your boyfriend lap which you later regretted as it send a delicious beautiful warm feeling through your entire body. One you shouldn't feel right now. You should feel embarrassed.. or even a little ashamed..
He groaned behind you his arms over your arms and your boobs so you couldn't attempt to escape this.
You wanted to be treated like a cock drunk mindless little slut? So he'd show you and his friends while he was at it just how well he did that. "Oh she's shy now.." Gojo chuckled grabbing his glasses from his hair and pushing them onto his nose. You whined. "Toji, please-"
"Tsk, she can still speak. Told you he ain't doing shit," sukuna muttered shaking his head. It didn't help that in their fourties they didn't understand that sitting closer to the screen wouldn't actually get them closer. So you had a full view of them staring into your full cunt. Full with tojis cock. Instead of fucking you like he had Toji stood up slightly angling himself forward so your hips were buried within his. One hand remained clasped underneath your boobs and the other one? Under your hips. He was literally using you like a fucktoy.
Your boobs spilled over his arms in full view of your admirers who seemed to have gone quiet at your agape mouth, flushed out face and tits in full display. "Sukuna you are mean..." Nanami chuckled. The same slight chuckle he gave when you asked if the meds would cause you any other issues. "He is right, she seems deprived Toji." He sat back in his chair. he was clearly still in his office from the stethoscopes behind him. his coat that he was now rapidly taking off. they were riling him up!
Toji smirked his scarred lips biting into your shoulder. as much as he was enjoying this. he had to show them you were his to play with. his to command. his to make feel good. they would have no impact there what so ever.
"Are you deprived baby?" Toji cooed after sucking a nice purple mark onto your skin where he bit you. you shook from the bite mark to his cock that just seemed to be buried deeper inside of you with every passing second. you clenched at his question. you knew you weren't, this wasn't about nanamis statement.. this was about the vibrator.
"N-no.." you barely breathed out too embarrassed to look in the camera. Which Toji knew all too well. He was loving every second of this. he could see your cunt in full view and he loved nothing more then to watch himself fuck you. he even made sure his legs were positions in a way the camera got a full view of his balls against your clit. Your face and your tits.
"Not deprived? They seem to think you look the part, you know what they say doll? If the shoe fits, wear it."
He softly whispered in your ear. "you fucking will, acting all fucking desperate when I told you to not touch what's mine.." he gritted through his teeth slowly moving his hips back and forth. You lip wobbled from the intensity of their stares and their little whispers spesifically Gojo and Choso. Mostly of the fact your boyfriend burried himself balls deep inside you and it just felt too good, too good to be ashamed.. "gonna show you- them to stop fucking playing with what's mine." His teeth dug back into your skin as he filled you up over and over again. You gasped. he was so hard you could feel every vein and curve, especially because your boyfriend curved upwards... hitting your spot so accurately every time.
Your legs were already shaking at thrust ten which was nothing for Toji. he was taking it nice and slow. His hand let go of your waist for a moment forcing your legs apart a bit wider so he could show them in full view how your pussy dripped for him. Nanami was siting back in his chair shaking his head a little, in trance at the way you took Toji so well. At how wet you were. When he saw your tiny little frame next to him he thought there would be no way you could handle Toji in the bedroom. But you took him perfectly. everytime his cock disappeared and a new delicious line of white wetness coated tojis cock.
nanami had never wanted a taste so bad..
"Shaking already, pathetic." Sukuna stroked himself through his pants. he thought you were cute but you were tojis besides you could be a bit whiny, he didn't mind it so much right now tho. your moans spilled from your mouth like you had totally forgotten they were there. until Suguru spoke up, he had always been taunting but right now?
He was doing it to fuck with you more then Toji. "She's closing her eyes Toji. Hard to tell if she's enjoying it." You sqeeuzed your eyes closed harder at the comment. the fact they were really looking not only at your cunt and your tits, the way your stomach flexed everytime toji pounded into you no.. they were also in completely admiration of how your face twisted, "ah,ah. can't have that.”
Toji snapped his hips one last time before removing himself from you completely. you cried out at the feeling of feeling so empty. "open your eyes, show them how good I make you feel doll, tell them how much you love daddy." He smirked into the camera seeing choso lost for words completely. he had a thing for you the first time Toji introduced you to him but Toji just loved seeing his hopes shatter, he wasn't getting anything more of you then this. Choso however didn't care for Tojis jealousy, only thinking about licking the drool off your lips.
But he was only getting what Toji gave him. Each one of them for that fact.
Toji was rather jealous of your attention to choso because he was softer then him sometimes it blinded him, he too found it hard to believe you actually loved him but you did, you loved your gentle giant even if he wasn't being so gentle right now..
"Please.. please fuck me." You sobbed so beyond embarrassed of the chuckles,laughs or just straight up groans that erupted from the laptop. You hips moved back in attempt to find his cock which only made the men infront of you laugh more. Muttering all sorts of comments to remind you they were there. "Stop being so rude Toji, she clearly wants to be fucked, we get it." Gojo was over it ready to watch you get wrecked. Toji shook his head, "I want her to say it, tell them."
You cried looking back at him he just shook his head again dismissing you. "Tell. Them."
So you did.. looking into the camera. your teary eyes. wobbly lip begged him. "Please daddy, show them how good you fuck me..." you could see Toji looking at you in the screen, "ofcourse I will baby you can do better then that." He tsked lining up his tip to your enterance and pushing in not even an inch. "please! Please daddy, please fuck me, I love you- w-ant you t-to fu-ck me." You couldn't feel embarrassed anymore all you felt was the burning sensation of an orgasm left unsatisfied. "Mm, so desperate for daddy cock huh? As if I didn't fuck you asleep last night." He smiled brightly, showing off his canines that just dug into your skin. you whimpered. "I know baby, want me to fuck you..hm?" You nodded whimpering. "I'd be delighted doll."
"So mean to such a sweet girl Toji.." choso muttered. something in that made Toji slam his whole length back into you his hand digging into your hair as he shoved your face into the camera his hips meeting yours at a rapid pace. your eyes rolled back feeling your cunt stretch around him every single time he plunged back in. "tell him how much you love it."
"I-I nnghhilove it when y-you're mean daddy!" You cried out your hands attempting to grab his hand on your hip. to get him to go slower. but all Toji did was pause to slap your ass, "damn right you do baby, let's show them how much," without taking his length out Toji sat himself back down in the chair giving them again a very well view at your cunt. his hands were under your knees holding them far apart and a little up, with his age came experience and he knew exactly how to get you to take his cock deeper, he just needed you like this. To show them exactly how much you enjoyed him being mean to you.
His hand reached out slapping your clit, you shut your eyes a cry leaving your lips. You hole clenching around him.
he slowly dragged his cock out again just so they could properly see how he stretched your hole out. "she's fucking Clenching around nothing.. she does love it." Suguru sounded shocked but he should've expected it. they all should've because you had been with Toji for a year now. he had enough of his friends acting like he was beneath you. no guy could make you feel like he did. Slamming his cock back in he began his same punishing rhythm,"Mmm, love-i-it Toji!" You screamed feeling your second orgasm come up at his mean thrusts.
He wasn't showing them as much as he was showing you that he called the shots. He made you feel good, you were his to decide what he wanted to do with and if you dared thinking fucking you for a week straight wasn't something he'd love to do.. you were very wrong. he had been holding back but now? you would get just what you asked for.
"Tsk as if she does, I bet having an audience turns her on even more." Gojo chimed in. "is that so princess? Does it turn you on for daddy to show you off to all his friends?" Toji licked your ear lobe before biting it harshly. you were shaking nodding your head just to be granted your orgasm. not busy with them because your orgasm was so close you could taste it, it was all you wanted, you could almost feel it as your eyes stared up into the ceiling.
Until Toji ripped it away stopping in his movements. you cried. Moving your hips. He was still holding you bellow your knees while you just desperately tried moving your hips up and down. "Mm, She's rather cute when frustrated." Nanami cooed. his voice deeper. he was busy but.. not only with you..."Cute? You mean hot as fuck.. I didn't know they got that way." Gojo chimed in. it made you blush which you prayed toji didn't see. why? Because gojo was an absolute whore so him complimenting how wet you got for toji and seeing how well you took him was a bigger turn on then you expected..
"He's got a gem, he knows that.. that's why he's showing us." Choso snickered. "I'm not mad about it." Sukuna muttered a smirk on his lips. with all the praise your hips just moved faster. "She's gonna cum if you keep talking." Toji joined in on their teasing and you did. you were so close. you burried him inside until you could properly grind onto his balls — a desperate cry left your throat when you fucked yourself up again; grinding with him inside wouldn't do it. you had to feel him. his mean thrusts. "She's in agony, I didn't know she could get any cuter.." geto was salivating at the thought of it, fucking you like that. how desperate you were rutting back onto Tojis cock not a care in the world for the laptop anymore.
Sukuna had moved from moving his hand over his pants to inside of them. He joined in with geto. "she wants to be slapped again, look at her, I bet it will make her cum. you're not being mean enough." Sukuna shook his head snickering at his comment. toji took that as a challenge for you. Especially because you did need a punishment afterall.
So he did, slow thrusts with harsh smacks on your clit. Tears were streaming down your cheeks at the third smack he gave you orgasm ripping through you. you wanted to hide so badly into your boyfriend indie the couch. anything. you felt so pathetic being laid out like this infront of them but they didn't?
Not even Nanami .. you had never seen nanami a doctor as someone who could be cynicle but right now? they all were.. they werent doing this for you or even to believe toji. they just had been itching to see what you hid under those pretty summer dresses you wore, the baggy pants you wore when it got colder and nothing was more interesting then seeing your nipples poke through tojis large shirts .. yeah. Even nanami was selfish right now.
They were taking it all in.
Geto, focused on your clit which because he wanted nothing more then you lick you until you cried like this, he wouldn't have to slap you even tho it was fun to watch.
Gojo, focused on your face every little twist, wobble of your lip, everytime you looked at the camera he almost came because it felt like you were truly looking at him..
Choso, your nipples as jealous as he was he'd take this opportunity to see your pretty perky nipples. they were all hard now and even tho he was jealous he wanted nothing more then to lick them until they were raw, tears streaming down your face just like now..
Sukuna, he was rather satisfied with tojis smacking and the twisting of your nipples here and there. he on the other hand would've made this a lot worse for you but that's why fragile girls like you couldn't handle him, toji may be the closest you'd get and the closest he'd ever get to someone like you... he wished nothing more then for it to be his hand smacking down, ten times harder.
Nanami, was completely lost in the bliss of your adorable little sounds, the way your toes curled when toji found that spot. It was absolutely adorable watching you bite your lip. Just like Gojo sometimes you'd look in the camera and he too felt you looking at him, he felt beyond grateful to watch you getting wrecked and that the rest were childish enough to send toji over edge this much, otherwise he would've never been able to see how it looked to have you crying like this.
He would've had you crying in much different ways.. in his examination chair.. blacks gloves on.
He couldn't get too excited. It would never happen.
After you fourth and final orgasm that you were aware of you passed out. Toji pulled out of you scooting closer to the computer just so he could dip his big fingers in and show them how well you stretched out for him. Your limp body against his chest. Legs over his thighs like this al began and both his pointer fingers dipping in either side stretching you right open to show them all of his cum that leaked out of you. Not only did toji enjoy marking you outside, inside was even better. Especially because most of his friends were just staring at the way your hole opened up so beautifully, Nanami was back in his fantasy of giving you an inspection, maybe that's why Toji was doing this. Showing you off. Every part of you was something they fantasised about.
And the way your hole just opened up for him so beautifully had them all salivating. they didn't feel one bit gross for being twice your age, didn't give a single fuck at the fact you were passed out in Tojis arms your head leaning on his shoulder. "what can I say." Toji panted before plunging himself back in. "Told you it would be worth it." He smirked sitting back his big rough hands groping your tits. while he stayed burried nice and deep — warm inside of you. "all fucking mine boys — take it in." He grinned again before starting all over again. you were gone in your thick haze of sleep completely fucked out.
No longer aware of the amount of orgasms you had after. Not aware that Toji turned you around to show off his last little suprise. The pink gem in your cute butt. He had put it in as punishment knowing how you felt about that, but he adored seeing your little hole filled with a pink heart gem. So did Gojo because he looked like he had melted his eyes seemed twice as big and choso was nearly drooling…
Neatless to say no one regretted it one bit.. and toji? Toji was beyond happy proving to everyone including you, you were his and he knew best how to make you feel good.
No stupid toys. Or for them, his friends; no other inexperienced boys your age.
Though seeing the way his friends were wrecked and mostly how much this affected you he was already excited at the other possibilities of showing you off to them, this wasn’t nothing yet. Having you dress up in one of your cute sets or playing with yourself there was so much more he could brag about when it came to you.. what more fun then to proof to his friends in the meanwhile you absolutely loved him.. something about the idea really satisfied him, maybe next football game.
A/n - AHHHHHHH sorry yall this was just me being horny omg hope this don’t make me a slut. Anywhoooo as you may have picked up on I may make a part two of this bc this concept has me in a chokeholdddd.
So yeah anyone wanna be tagged?^.^ (lmk in the comments!)
Tagging for now bc ppl commented for this, sorry if u didn’t wanna b tagged! - @grenadehearts @misos0xp
- for more filth! masterlist !!
Dividers @/ sweetestpeacreates
Art isn’t mine it’s off Pinterest! I did edit it a bit.
Synopsis. Six months since you’ve broken up with Toji Zenin - hotshot center for the men’s national team, perhaps the most feared man in ice hockey - and you’ve moved on…somewhat. Six months since you’ve broken up with him, and listen- Toji doesn’t mean to be a homewrecker, but he’d totally still wreck that p—ahem. Now if only he could get that two-timing boyfriend of yours out of the way…
Pairing. Toji Fushiguro x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem!reader, ice hockey player!Toji, ex-boyfriend!Toji, Winter Olympics AU, exes to Iovers, second chances, ice hockey finals, ice hockey games, jerseys, Naoya cameo, channeling my Naoya hate tbh, fights, sIight vioIence, Toji being in his feels, yearning, pússydrúnk Toji, oraI (fem rec.), p talking, p sIapping, P WORSHIP, he’s GONE, he’s better than HIM and he proves it, fíngering, spítting, overstím, manhandIing, doggy, Iocker room s, he’s big, making it fit, ‘teaching’ your p, cervíx smooches, multiple o’s, he’s JEALOUS, desperate s, rough s, slight marathon, sIight exhíbitíonism, needy Toji, FÉRAL Toji, creampíes, cúmpIay, proposals, sIight bréeding, happy ending, Shiu cameo heheh, pet names, swéaring.
Word count. 12.1k
A/N. SURPRISE!! Hiiiiiiiiighly request hehehe- inspired by this scrumptious Tiktok by the lovely @/bellursjournal <33
234 fights.
234 won.
Ice hockey wasn’t just about the hard-hitting, fast-paced, ice-cold adrenaline that coursed through each and every single player there—outreaching like a gale towards the rows of audiences that jumped up in elation. Shivering at the impact of every skate, glide, and punch.
No, ice hockey was also about bringing people together.
And as corny as it may sound, it was part of why Toji loved these games so much. As one, he made them stand. He made them shout. He fired them up until they became immune to the frigidness of Milano Santagiulia Ice Hockey Arena.
So it wasn’t exactly out-of-the-ordinary to see a fight start up during one of these games - between players (him especially) and between fans.
What was slightly unusual was to see a fight occur between a player and a fan. Which is exactly what he was watching happen right now.
And even more unusual was just who it was.
You—arguing with some brute he assumed to be your boyfriend.
Tch…Toji’s scarred lips curl without him even realizing it. He’d noticed you the second you stepped into the rink - he always did. The second you’d stepped into his life, the second you’d stepped out of it. It was like this undeniable tug at the pit of his stomach, this rush of victory, this sudden warmth that he couldn’t explain - and couldn’t quite imitate no matter how many layers he wore.
Not that he would reminisce, of course.
You’d met at one of his games—and to this day, no matter how many other matches he played in, he still considers that one of his best. It was in the feeling that you gave him - that game felt different. It was.
His eyes kept drifting to where you sat behind the plexiglass, and his skates have never glided smoother across the ice. It was a win for the records. After the game, Toji himself had been mulling over whether or not he should approach that pretty university student that had been shouting his name throughout the entire game- when you yourself had shyly walked up to him in the fan-signing section.
Steps tentative, a book crushed to your chest.
You’d asked him for an autograph in that sweet voice—and he’d scribbled his number out then and there. Media training be damned.
And when he’d asked you who your favorite player was- lo and behold, you’d replied that it was…Shiu Kong. He doesn’t think he’s laughed louder in his life.
That was also the game that got him on the radars of national team scouts.
You’d dated for a year. Almost exactly.
And to be transparent, it’s already been six months since the two of you broke up. Over some…honestly, he doesn’t even remember properly. He knew it had to do with his updated training regiment and the way he’d been pushing himself during the Olympics drafting season - and because of it, Toji knew he fucked up. He knew he missed dates, missed quality time, missed milestones. Barely came home from the rink.
You didn’t even care about that, he thinks. You wanted him to pace himself and take some breaks, he thought that sounded like a nightmare. Eventually, the last straw had been when he’d missed your one-year anniversary, and it’d accumulated into an explosive argument- that, he could remember.
He’s gotten better since then, he thinks.
But Toji was just about as over it as any man would be over the love of his life- fuck, did he really get his cringe after the break-up? That probably wasn’t good for his health. But it’s just that…he hasn’t felt that particular rush of victory ever since you left.
Not even when he was chosen for the official Japanese ice hockey team, not even when they landed in Milan, not even when they progressed to the finals.
But today…
The fucking finals of the Olympics and he was sitting on the players’ bench before the game, scouring the stands for but a glimpse of you. The fuck have you done to him?
He could feel that surge of warmth, however. As though every fibre of his body had long since attuned to you, wasn’t whole without y- fuck off. The point was that you were somewhere here.
And Toji was reminded of those days you’d be sitting in the very first row of his games- front and center, waving a banner with his number, wearing one of his red jerseys. ZENIN—it would say on the back. Not one from the merchandise store, of course, though those sold out so fast that even Toji himself wouldn’t be able to get his hands on one.
So his eyes slid along the first rows of fans. The turnout was incredible.
Japan vs. the US.
And Toji could guise his sudden alertness towards the audience as checking for any distractions in the stands - he didn’t want to be off his game during the fucking finals, now, did he? Especially not considering that their newest recruited defense player was…
But he knew that was bullshit.
Nothing ever threw Toji Zenin off his game.
And yet…and yet once he spotted you - seated amongst a clump of blue-wearing supporters on the other side of the rink, right opposite where he sat on the players’ benches - he couldn’t help the sudden jitter that ran through his body. Honestly, he thinks he might just break that streak of (substantiated) overconfidence before a match-
Fuck, how beautiful you were.
Just as beautiful as the day he lost you, it makes everything almost move in slow-motion. If this were a movie - and it somewhat feels like one right about now - then the music would swell, and Toji’s eyes would turn to hearts, and perhaps there’d be a dance number or two and then a montage of-
Bullshit, bullshit! Toji Zenin wasn’t thrown off his game.
Toji Zenin was unaffected by your presence- and the fact that you were wearing a jersey clearly representing the other team. He didn’t fucking care.
He didn’t. Not even about the fact that you were currently in the middle of a very heated argument with one of the US players. Blond hair. Black tips. Shorter than him. Not even by how close you leaned into him. And Toji doesn’t bother to wipe the scowl off of his face as he perks his ears in your direction - one could never be too sure whether you were trading secrets with this e-boy blue-team boyfriend of yours.
You would never, to be clear, but just- just let him fucking evesdrop-
“—can’t believe you would do this to me.” Your voice carries, and the little tremor in your tone makes his eyes widen.
Sure enough, he could see the glimmer of tears in your eyes.
You’re rising up from your seat slightly, and it draws the attention of fans around you. Seething, “I can’t believe you would-”
“Shhhhhhhh—” The man has the audacity to bring a finger to his lips and shush, likely louder than you were being in your controlled tone. Trembling, but controlled. His half-blond bangs sway just a little as he looks towards his own team and coaches, then back towards you. “You’re being crazy right now.”
“I’m being crazy?” Laughing in disbelief. Holding up a phone that seemed to be the other man’s, presumably given to you for safe-keeping during the match. “I’ve seen the messages, and you say I’m being crazy-”
“You are. You’re acting hysterical and I need you to calm down.” Toji couldn’t see the man’s ugly face, as he had his back turned towards the benches. But he could see every bit of how this particular sentence made your expression crumple- “Look I don’t know what you think you saw on those texts, but it isn’t what you think it is. It’s locker talk- I went out with the other players, got some drinks, met some fans and…nothing happened with any-”
“You’re cheating on me-”
“You’re paranoid.”
Your eyes flash, “But-”
“You know I always hate to talk to you like this, baby. I really do.” He reaches up and puts a pale hand on the plexiglass, “But you’re just being paranoid. And I don’t want to call you insecure, but-”
“Don’t you dare—” You’re standing up now.
“See? This is exactly what I mean.” From the ruffling of his uniform, Toji could tell he was crossing his arms. Oh, how he wished this son of an asshole would turn around right now- just turn around and let him get a good look at what gave him the right. His cruel lips curl just a little bit in a way that just looked so familiar. It makes his blood boil. “You’re being crazy.”
And Toji sees the exact moment you furl in on yourself. “But…” It makes his fists clench.
Before he knows it, he’s gritting his teeth so hard he tastes metal.
“I’m a hockey player, baby, I’ve gotta network.” With such a tone of finality, he ends off—“Stop being so hysterical, and maybe we can have a civil conversation after.” The man kicks his blades into the ice and starts to push off, “Cheer for me loud during the game. My teammates are going to be watching.”
You don’t say a thing.
But he does, “You’re lucky you’re dating me, y’know?”
And that’s when Toji’s eyes finally fall to the text upon the man’s uniform.
ZENIN.
He knows who it is even before he turns—and Toji falters. Not out of reconsideration, or anxiety, or fear - but out of the sheer surprise that ah, this was going to be convenient.
Because Toji Zenin knew the bastard - more than he would have liked to.
Naoya Zenin was a part of his past whether he wanted to or not. He was the snot-nosed, bratty second heir to Zenin Industries that would hide behind corners and snicker to himself whenever Toji got caught sneaking out to the arena again. Whenever he was told off for going against Zenin family values - against his duty to become the head of their sport equipment business - by whichever higher-up happened to be feigning for a stress outlet that day.
Short and sweet, Toji Zenin wasn’t supposed to become an ice hockey player—let alone the fucking best in the country. But he digresses.
And how fucking hilarious was it that the (second) heir to a family so vehemently against Toji becoming an ice hockey player…also became an ice hockey player? He had an inkling this would happen - when Naoya’s mean-spirited amusement turned into surveillance attempting to catch him sneaking out of the estate, turned into watching him play at the local arena. Turned into awe.
He knew the boy was stunned ever since the first time he watched Toji play. And he never laughed when Toji was caught after that day.
But it seems that that still hadn’t stopped the kid from growing up into a fucking asshole like the rest of them.
He was damn glad he’d escaped from that household the very second he’d gotten an offer from a local team, the Tokyo Ice Bucks. Though a morbid part of him wished he’d stayed just long enough to be there for when Naoya announced that he, too, wanted to become just like their disgraced once-heir. How he wished he could’ve seen the reactions of his high-strung relatives, his uptight family friends, his parents, his council—though, seemingly it hadn’t worked out too bad for Naoya.
As he climbed up the ranks, he’d heard through the grapevine that his cousin had been sent to some of the most expensive training centers in the world. Ultimately getting signed onto a team in the US (though the hefty sum his family had paid likely helped, but those were just rumors of sports business…). He also knew that the other man had gotten naturalized recently, getting chosen for the Olympics team. He knew it all.
Toji just didn’t know that Naoya would also be your fucking boyfriend.
“Major scene, eh?” Kusakabe clatters himself down on the bench, slightly winded after a practice run. He fixes the laces on his ice skates, “I saw your ex-girlfriend there, she’s gotten even more beautiful. She seemed to be arguing with-”
“Mhm.” Replying absent-mindedly, Toji stands.
“Something about cheating- what a fucking bastard. Doesn’t deserve her, but then again neither did you.”
“I know.”
And Kusakabe frowns, “Does she know that she’s dating your weirdo estranged cousin?”
“No fuckin’ clue.”
“Oi…” Comes the slightly wary tone at Toji’s swift, dismissive responses—Kusakabe looks up at his teammate. “Don’t do something stupid.”
But Toji doesn’t answer, too fixated on watching the remains of your argument with Naoya: you sitting down weakly in your chair, looking around to make sure no one notices as you wipe away the tears in your ears before they overspill. He sees red.
He shoots up to a stand.
“Oi-” Kusakabe’s more panicked tone echoes across the ice- did Toji already get inside the rink? He was skating on the ice before he even registered it. “Oi, fuck-face. Asshat. Toji—”
But Toji’s eyes were set on one thing, his ears were listening for the commentator announcing the imminent start of the game.
“Toji, don’t do something stupid-”
And maybe he was stupid. Because it wasn’t for nothing that Toji Zenin was named the most feared man on the ice by The Hockey News just this year. He stood big. He stood tall. He stood unafraid to fight his entire childhood, so why should he be afraid to fight on the ice?
234 fights since the start of his ice hockey career.
234 fights won.
And right now the man wasn’t afraid to get blood on his hands, even if it suspended him.
Their coach barks at the rest of the Japanese team to get into position, and it’s a blur as he bends low at the faceoff spot, awaiting the referee to release the puck. Toji Zenin: captain of the Japanese Ice Hockey team.
His eyes shift past the US captain before him—to where Naoya Zenin was lined up as well. And he can see the precise, exact moment that the other man registers- and a shiver courses down his spine.
The puck drops.
It goes to the Japanese team.
Toji swoops the puck using the blade and attacks between the forwards- pitiful, honestly. He could almost let out a slight burst of laughter as he senses the dumbfounded looks on their faces—and yet, he doesn’t spare them a single glance backwards as he races between members of the other team. Past center. Past forward.
A right-winger attempts to steal the puck. He’s ignoring Kusakabe’s call to pass and toe-dragging around his bland-faced opponent to skate right past. Right winger. Left winger.
The forward surpassed yet again.
At the speed of light, screaming audience members meld into one.
All but you.
You—you’re all that’s on his mind as Toji makes it unscathed up to the defense- past left defense.
Until he’s left facing the very man he hasn’t seen in ten years. Eyes like his, though they were dark and widened in fear - somewhere in the far distance of the stadium, Toji hears one of the commentators make a remark about their relation. He doesn’t listen.
He feints the puck slipping out from the leash of his hockey stick for a split-second—just long enough for excitement to flicker in Naoya’s eyes and for his own hand jerk to claim it. Only to smile- hah, you fucking thought.
And Toji’s slamming at the back of the puck - straight into the net of the goal.
Bursts of cheers and commentary as the Japanese men’s ice hockey team scores the first goal of the Olympic finals. Fans getting up onto their feet. Hands high in the air.
But Toji’s own curls into a fist that meets Naoya Zenin’s jaw.
The sickening sound of bone crushing against flesh, knuckles - it’s never sounded sweeter in Toji’s ears. The baffled man is on the floor before he can even register what happened. Thud! There’s a gasp that echoes throughout the stadium, before the two-toned man haplessly attempts to get up and get at least one hit in for his own dignity—but it’s too late, he raises a feeble hand but it falls. Meanwhile Toji pummels punch after punch.
Hard enough that it makes the ice floor shudder.
Long enough that the referee glides over and their team starts surrounding them.
Naoya’s now spread-eagle on the floor and sobbing for mercy, which Toji genuinely didn’t hear - he genuinely didn’t. Couldn’t. His ears were ringing and his eyes were seeing red- no, they were seeing that vision of you wiping away your tears.
His prominent knuckles met the swoops and structure of Naoya’s face, features that he can’t deny make him wonder…did you see Toji in him? The proud slash of his mouth. The high cheekbones of the Zenins.
It made something twist within him to think that not only might you have seen Toji in him- but then he would’ve betrayed you as such. As if Toji ever would.
Naoya made you cry.
He couldn’t beat this fucker harder.
It takes four of his own teammates to pull him off.
And by then, even the commentators had stopped speaking, the audience watching in a mix of interest and horror. Their hands on their mouths. Toji staggers onto his feet and yet his hands were still clenched - still twitching as though he was in the middle of the fight.
Kusakabe’s nails dig into his skin even through those thick uniforms, and he’s muttering something in his ear about the referee and a five-minute timeout. But Toji doesn’t care.
Toji isn’t looking at the referee, or the coach, or any of his teammates.
He turns his head over his shoulder to look at you—
You with your mouth agape, your eyes fixated reciprocatively on him, your blue jersey taken off to reveal your normal clothes underneath. There was a slight tremor in your body as you take in your ex-boyfriend, Toji.
Victorious from beating up your cheating boyfriend.
And the black-haired man can only smirk.
He tastes iron, and it’s only then that he realizes he had a nosebleed. Dripping from his left nostril and down across his lips, his garish grin; not from a single thing Naoya did, of course - that fucker hadn’t even gotten a single hit in…Toji was almost reconsidering whether the bastard was a Zenin at all - but perhaps from his teammates fighting against his fighting, perhaps from his sheer anger, perhaps just from looking at you for the first time in six months.
Even from here, he could see the slightest snippet of your bra strap peeking out from underneath your t-shirt.
It was the Japanese national ice hockey team red.
Or more like, Toji Zenin red.
He smirks even wider.
.
.
.
Needless to say, Naoya Zenin was carried out of the game in a stretcher.
Toji didn’t feel any regret about it - not even a single speck. His penalties still applied as well- for about five minutes before he was back to kicking ass in the finals. Metaphorically, this time.
He was about to show them why exactly he’d become the captain of the national team in such a short time.
And he could take on whatever shit they were commenting about a ‘family feud’ and a ‘beau stuck in the middle’ (who the hell even told them that? He was sure it must’ve been that loudmouth Kusakabe) if only…every time he circled the perimeter of the rink, he could see that smile of yours through the plexiglass screen. No banner with his name, but still cheering him on in a sea of blue.
Also needless to say—Japan won gold at this year’s Olympics for men’s ice hockey.
The celebrations were overpouring - streamers, confetti, fans attempting to jump their way into the rink. This was about tenfold the intensity of celebrating any local game they’d won, and yet…his eyes were anywhere but on the commentators, the audience, the teammates that were huddling around him.
Toji was turning his dazed head left and right- only attempting to find you.
“We won—” Kusakabe yelled out at him, giving him a hefty thump on the back and pulling the man into his embrace. “We fucking won, you asshat-”
“We did.” Toji’s lips felt parched. He couldn’t see a single sign of you through the chaos. “I think.”
They - meaning the rest of the team, with their captain tacked-on and looking slightly astray ever since he lost sight of you - celebrated for the pictures, for the podium. They celebrated on the ice and off it.
Eventually, the celebrations extended past the rink and towards their locker rooms. It was a sprawling room that’d been especially constructed; white walls and wood-panelled furnishings, even whiter ceilings that gloried down even more spotless racks for each, swathing the end of the room in a semi-circular fashion. It was where they kept their helmets and their jackets, took them off like armor after such a win. Towards the other end of the chamber were the stalls where they showered, large enough to house a small group in each of them, with benches of clean wood.
The tile beneath was colorless except for five familiar rings intertwined, spreading their wings from one end of the locker room where the showers were—and down to the benches where the celebration had bled out.
The players had long since filtered out to celebrate with food and family, except for one particular captain of which he had no family visiting. But also because he was getting his final warnings on pulling such a stunt like that…
“—I have no idea what-” Coach Shiu Kong peers through his stern eyebrows at the man seated on the bench, his head bowed low. “-or who triggered you to start enforcing like that, but know that you are walking on very thin ice.”
If Toji hears the other man - his best friend - then he doesn’t show any sign of it.
“Their defender practically needed to be hospitalized.” Shiu sighs, “I don’t give a shit if you beat the boy up, but keep it within guidelines. I overheard some of the officials discussing whether we should’ve given you a much tougher penalty.”
At that, Toji flinches.
“A much tougher penalty.”
Being a player himself not too long ago, however, Shiu could understand the other man somewhat. And he knows the captain would do it all again.
Gladly.
Toji remains silent, and Shiu pinches the bridge of his nose. “Look- you’re lucky you got off with a five-minute penalty this time. Insanely lucky. Next time you’re not gonna be so lucky, so I suggest you keep your fists to yourself.”
“Tch…” Their star player wrinkles his nose and looks away.
To which Shiu claps him on the shoulder, “Look, you did good out there.” Looking closely at the other man, “And I know the girl- I’ve seen her around practice when you used to bring her, before she stopped coming around. Gorgeous. But keep your head on straight.”
One final clap. “You did good.”
Before he, too, leaves.
The locker doors swing behind him. And then there was one.
As the celebrations raged on outside, Toji doesn’t know how long he spends sitting on that bench - thinking to himself. About what? Everything and anything. He couldn’t quite pinpoint one thought before it flowed into the next one, and even then just as he’d register it—suddenly it was speeding into the next. Aqueous.
But one thing was for sure, they were all about you.
You.
You.
You.
Knock-knock-knock.
Who the hell knocks on locker room doors?
Slightly bemused and perhaps wondering whether this was a paparazzi hoping for a good shot, Toji leans back in his seat and lets the knock reverberate. He doesn’t answer before the doors are clicking open, and a set of footsteps ring across the vast, dampened chamber - a set of footsteps that he’s memorized far better than his own heartbeat.
It was you.
This realization doesn’t damper his shock a single bit as your head peeks ‘round the tiled corner. Breathing out an exhale of relief as you realize that he’s the only one there, you’re revealing yourself properly in his line of vision now.
“Oh, good.” And your voice- fuck, even your voice doesn’t feel real. It echoes slightly in the space, and makes you sound even more dream-like in Toji’s ears. “I didn’t feel like walking in here and seeing an eyeful of ice hockey dick.”
“Think about ice hockey dick a lot?” They’re the first words out of Toji’s mouth to you in six months, and suddenly he feels like banging his head against a wall.
“You mean Naoya?” Your nose crinkles in distaste, and he feels like spitting. “Hell no—” He feels like laughing. “I told him we’re breaking up the second he got put on that stretcher.”
He startles himself with a guffaw, “As the bastard was being carried off?”
“As the bastard was being carried off.” You’re nodding, before awkwardly shifting on your feet. “I’m sorry.”
One of his brows raise, “For what?”
“I didn’t know he was your cousin. I just thought the last name was a coinci-”
“Nah- forget about it.” Waving off one hand - roughened with so many years of training, of holding a hockey stick as though a lifeline - in your direction. “No harm done, girlie. Guess that jus’ means you have a type- though obviously…” Toji stabs a finger in his direction, “-I’m the handsome one of the family.”
“As humble as ever, I see.” You tease.
“Always.” He shrugs in a nonchalant attempt, though his green eyes kept straying to you. “You look good.”
You’re meeting his eyes slowly. “You look good, too.”
And whatever he sees in your expression makes him gulp. “Fuck-” He whispers underneath his breath, reaching up and rubbing the burning back of his head. “Now, not that I mind ya being in the men’s locker room but…”
“O-oh.” You jump slightly, as though just now reminded of your objective. “I wanted to thank you.”
He’s taken aback. “Huh?”
“For…well not that I condone violence buuuut—” Averting your gaze from his, “I wanted to- thank you.”
“Y-yeah.” Breathless, “No harm done. The fucker didn’t deserve you anyway.”
“Oh yeah?” There’s a slightly challenging look in your eyes now, “I wonder who did.”
Toji Zenin then stands from his seat, and you’re taking a half-step back as if you’d forgotten just how much the athlete towered. His shoulders had gotten broader since the last time you saw him, fitting out the shape of his brand-new uniform snugly. His biceps bulkier. His hips more defined. His face more ruggedly handsome. His sage eyes sharper—and currently locked in on you…
“To be quite honest…” Toji starts, a slightly husky timbre to his tone, “I don’t think anyone did.”
You jut your chin up in defiance, “I disagree.”
“Clearly the current dating pool isn’t good enough if you ended up dating fucking Naoya of all people.” And was that a silent seething you could hear in his tone? “Never would I blame you for what he did, girlie. Never. I’m just wondering what the hell attracted you to him in the first place.”
And your hand’s reaching up to touch him- “I have…I have no idea.”
“Because don’t you know what you deserve?” His large right hand reaches out to cup your cheek tenderly- before he’s gliding it to the back of your neck and squeezing you meanly. “Tell me.” He tightens his fist and makes you look up properly at him, “Tell me what you deserve.”
To which you’ve just finished grabbing onto his red jersey. Tugging him to you—you’re walking backwards and dragging your ex-boyfriend with you. “Someone…handsome.”
He grins, “Mhmmmm?” Fingers tap-tap-tapping the cute column of your throat. “And what else?”
“Someone big n’ strong.” Step by step, you head towards the nearest vertical surface you can remember - one of those wooden partitions that separated the shower stalls from the changing area. “Someone really good at hockey.”
“Heh-” He fails to hide the glint in his eyes, “And?”
“Someone sweet, though he pretends not to be.” Giggling at his huff, “Someone interesting. Someone that opens up. Someone that won’t give up.”
“And?”
“Someone filthy rich-”
“Heh, gold-digger.”
“Someone that can change for the better for me.”
It’s with a quiet thud—! that you’re hitting the partition now- taking Toji with you. He braces himself with a large arm pressed on the area above your head, and from here you can ogle every single muscle, vein, and twitch.
Every single scorched pant as he leans in.
Blinking up at him, your heart races at the question you were about to ask. “Someone that’ll fuck me right?”
He smirks and you swear you can feel it against your mouth. “Why the question mark, doll?”
And then his lips are on yours.
Rushing. Ravenous. Famished.
Toji massages his scarred lips against yours, smacking at the taste of that dewy cherry lipgloss you had on. And he doesn’t hesitate for a single second before letting the tip of his tastebuds draaaaaaaag right down that gloss, humming. “Missed this taste.” He trails his right hand up to rest against the edge of your chin—widening the gap between your pretty lips n’ swiping his eager tongue in. Hot and open-mouthed.
Kissing you so filthy.
Toji fucking groans something feral as his tongue slips even deeper, reclaiming those velvety spots inside you. And as he feels your mouth water, feels your hips start to squirm, the ice hockey player can’t help but chuckle.
Lifting his left hand off of the wooden surface to run down your front, managing you away from the partition and inside the stall. You’re walking blindly backwards, being led by solely his hands - nothing inside but the showerhead above and the wide open space. Toji pushes you against the cold tile and kisses you even more fervently—“Missed how wet she’d get just from kissing me.”
Cupping your pussy through your short, short skirt.
“Is she purring already?”
You gasp, “You can’t just say that-”
“What was that?” Toji cocks his head in near-innocent confusion, “Can’t hear you over her congratulations.”
“You fucking-”
The next thing you’re seeing is enough to knock the wind out of your lungs - and the words. And it’s not because of anything Toji says, it’s not because of his expressions or his gestures, or even the way he rubs the mountains of his palm against your clothed pussy—it’s because of the way he doesn’t hesitate before letting his knees hit the tiled ground with two deep thuds.
Fucking kneeling before you.
Toji throws your non-dominant leg over his shoulder, and bores up at you with half-lidded eyes. Heavy. Darkened with arousal- he wanted you so fucking bad.
He was a man deep in thirst.
In a single motion, the hockey player flips your skirt up n’ tucks the hemline into your waistband.
It’s almost as if he’s in a daze - as if he’s hypnotized - as he brings his face closer to your throbbing core. Where your pussy was nearly beating out of your red panties—before Toji flares his nostrils and gives that dampened spot on your panties a gooooood sniff. “Mmm, s’like coming home.” Your mouth gapes as you wonder whether he even realized what he was saying- was it possible to even act so starved? So animalistic? Open-mouthed, he breathes out a scorching hot pant that makes your legs shake. “Shit—shit, shit shit-”
“What?” You squeak out in—well, perhaps in surprise, perhaps because of the way your ex-boyfriend doesn’t waste a second more before nudgin’ your legs apart and sticking his nose right between your clothed slit. Slurp!
And his mouth merely opens with a gasp.
With a groan.
A sudden jolt courses through the hockey captain’s muscular body. And before you know it- before Toji himself knows it, he’s clasping onto either side of your hips and draaaagging your pussy all down his face.
All across every handsome feature of his. It doesn’t matter if you still have panties on, he’s gaping his dampened maw wide open and saaaaalivating across every nook n’ cranny he could reach. That cute crevice of your pussylips growing even wetter as you start to feel his nosebridge rub uuuup and down, uuuup and down- up and down.
Gurgling those sweetened wads of slick at the back of his throat as he ebbs himself even closer- “Oh my god, pretty girl…” And for a second there, you think he’s talking to you—only to find Toji pulling away with a squelch! of fabric. His half-lidded eyes remain fixated between your legs, and that sinful mouth of his glistens eagerly with your juices. “Fuck, oh my god-”
“Wh-what is it?” You’re squealing out, despite fully knowing that he’s talking to your pussy by now. Just your pussy.
And Toji croons upwards, his glazed eyes flickering towards you. “Your sorry excuse of a boyfriend doesn’t eat you out, does he?”
You gape.
How the fuck did he know?
“Because she told me- duh.” Toji rolls his verdant eyes as though the answer should’ve been obvious - the answer to a question you clearly don’t remember asking. Out loud, at least.
Although…your mind isn’t clear at all.
It’s so clouded by the way he massaged the top of your folds with his tongue. Those rugged, textured tastebuds flicking aaaaaall over your outer lips, dipping into the outline created by your slit. In and out. In and out.
It’s as though he was already attempting to fuck you through your damn panties- perhaps the only thing holding him back right now. Toji taps the flattened surface of his tongue across your sopping slit once he’s completely sure he’s slurped up every ounce of you there was to slurp-
“Can you hear her?” He utters hoarsely. And he doesn’t even need to wait for your response - Toji surges in once more in a way that was almost uncontrollable—“She’s purrin’ so much- heh.”
Eyes rolling to the back of his head at the cloying, clingy taste.
You were just so weeeeeet and warm.
“She’s been so neglected. Poor pussy.”
“Oh—” Your mouth drops.
And that’s the last thing you’re managing out before Toji tucks the rounded tip of his finger beneath your ruined red panties, making it snap- once before tuggin’ them aside and spitting. Letting the vertical line of saliva lubricate you a bit more for him to swab his tongue everywhere and anywhere—“She- she hasn’t been tasted like this in aaaaages.”
“I haven’t, I haven’t-” You sob.
That pointed chin of his plasters against your cunt, nearly hitting the back. And Toji’s pushed up so deeply against your pussylips that you’re wondering whether he even has the space to breathe- crushing his face between your folds. What was that saying about big noses? “She hasn’t been tongued the way she likes it.”
Wrenching your head off of where it’d been rested against the cold tile wall. “H-huh?”
With a growl, you’re shocked as his four thick fingertips come slammin’ down on your pussy. “Pay attention, doll.” And he’s juuuuust nudging aside your sensitive folds to lap up the sap leaking between them. Feeling that cute orifice of your hole that was just clenchin’ around him, “She hasn’t been tongued the way I know she likes it. Dirty girl.”
And you’re shivering as the very first inch of his girthy muscle slips inside your entrance. “Fuh-fuuuuck-”
“She hasn’t been tasted like she deserves.” He pants out between rovering movements with his head now, baaaaaack and forth. Baaaaack and forth. Faster each time. Deeper each time. “She hasn’t been spat on. She hasn’t even been fingered-”
“Fuh-fuuuuck, ngh—yes.” You’re keening out, your voice crackling dangerously. “I mean no- no, he didn’t.”
Feeling the leer of his lips against your other ones, something almost cruel to their shape. “I know.” His severe timbre - mixed with the scrape-scrape-scrape of those textured tastebuds inside you - make you see stars. No warning—and he’s reaching up to plaster the crown of his thumb against your throbbing clit. “And I’ll fuckin’ kill him for it.”
Without thinking much of it, you’re grabbing onto a handful of his jet-black hair and bowing your body forwards. “Toji—”
“Look at her.”
As though he wasn’t even hearing you right now- Toji’s eyes were widened, his voice slightly breathy. Both of his hands were positioned on either side of your cunt n’ spreading your puffy pussylips apart. “Fucking look at her…”
Toji’s tone was trembling.
Toji’s tone was wrecked.
And you’ve never seen the man knot his dark brows like this- as though he was at the feet of a shrine and worshipping you with looooong, deep thrusts into your wet cavern.
So watching him between your legs like this- you already knew that Toji was a ravenous eater from your relationship. But to hear him be so desperate?
You couldn’t help the next words that fall from your mouth, “N-Naoya always thought it was emasculating to-”
There’s a brief squelch then a smack!
He’s tugging his hands away from your stinging clit, before kissing all over it. Sucking. It made your knees weeeak to feel him unabashedly press up against your pulsing nub as he thrusted his tongue inside - sniffing, moaning, breathing you in. “How can ya have a pussy like this…”
Letting his jaw droop even further open as he presses the tip of his tongue inside, swabbin’ into every geysering orifice. “How—?” He’s massagin’ your tight walls apart from one another, accelerating with every soft gasp you’re letting out. “How can ya have a pussy like this n’ not just fucking drown yerself in it?”
You’re bucking off of the frigid tile, leaking out a few more dewdrops of slick.
He moans as he watches that bead of translucence exit from your hole n’ cascade between your legs- “Some men die of thirst whilst others fucking- fuck, fist their cock to the thought of this pussy every night.”
Excitement zips down your spine as you realize he’s talking about himself- every night? For six months straight? “Every-”
“Every night.” Toji affirms. “Six months straight. I thought about how many times I’d make you cum on my tongue.”
“Shit—” He’s then fucking your poor hole battered, harder than the strokes he had before. Those were just to fit the first few inches of him inside, these were to make your velvety pussy feel him.
“Every fuckin’ night. I missed this pussy soooooo—” Spitting. “-much. Every night, I thought about how much my poor girl must be missin’ me. Every night, I thought about how much better she’d taste than any sweet dessert in the world.”
“Toji—” Your whines rattle through the locker room. “Shit, it feels so good-”
“And it’s the fuckin’ least she deserves.”
Without any further warning, Toji then slides the larger end of his thumb between your sopping wet slit. Collecting a few wads of your clingy juices, he’s pushing it back in—
“Fuck, she’s so tight.” He whispers underneath his breath, nose crinkling at the way your gooey walls immediately rush to clench around him. His tip being engulfed by the warmth. Not only were you sucking him in, but those cutely trembling hips of yours were jerkin’ off the wall expecting more, more, more- “She hasn’t been fucked properly in a while…”
And before you can even register it, he’s removing his thumb with a wettened plop! Rapidly replacing it with his lengthy middle finger, his index.
Scissoring those scouring tips open inside you.
Swabbing them into those ridges n’ sweet spots.
Letting them jostle against one another and against your most tender areas-
Fuck, you’re throwing your head back.
Those thoroughly thick fingers of his kept filling you up so much more than his tongue did, and you’re gnawing down on your bottom lip to keep yourself from making too much noise—even more than you already were. In and out. In and out.
How you missed the pleasurable burn of him stuffin’ you.
The way it sends carnal shockwaves up your spine- especially every time he pushes past the shy squeezes of your first ring of muscle. The first restraint.
“T-Toji…” You’re wailing out in that pretty tone that makes his ears perk up immediately, “Please—” Your hips rut upwards, “So close to…”
“Tch- d’you even have to ask?”
And you didn’t think that Toji Zenin was ever the type to forget anything to do with your cunt, did you? Did you?
Because this wasn’t his first damn rodeo: you best believe that the first time Toji ever had the chance to feel you clenchin’ around his fingers, he took the time to memorize every nook and cranny inside. He’d mapped it all out.
He’d drilled it straight into his brain that if he quirked his fingers juuuuust so to feel the spongy depths of your roof- then shovelled his fingers along that pathway…juuuuust so. He’d be greedily swallowed up until his joints, and it’d only take a few more vulgar thrusts for him to locate that special bundle of nerves inside of you.
The one that made you see stars. The one that made you call his name out loud enough for the neighbors to hear-
“Heh…” He dares crack a smirk, “And he hasn’t found this spot yet, right?”
And right now, your prettily cracking whine was echoing across every corner of the locker room. “T-Toji—” He’d found your g-spot. Reeling his slick-glazed fingers back just enough to roughly push and push, to dig his rounded fingertips against that throbbing area. Constantly. “Right there- k-keep going. Right there-”
“Heh- keep going? You seriously ever thought I’d stop—?” The captain of the national theme looks genuinely baffled you’d asked, disbelieving of the words. Him? Stopping when you’re completely begging for him not to? “Doll, I’d rather fuckin’ die than let this pretty pussy down.”
And with that said, Toji wraps his swollen lips around your clit once more.
He was stimulating you with twice the blissful waves now- once with his fingers probing into you and pinpointing each sensitive nerve inside you. The other through the wet smacks! of his lips, latching onto your knobbly clit and sucking as though the sweetest candy in the world.
You watch as Toji’s handsome cheeks hollow out because of his suctioning. His pretty pink lips were all glossed over with layers of your sploshin’ cunt, rolling drunkenly over that nub.
“I need you to cum on my tongue.” The black-haired man sputters against your wet, treacly cunt—his breaths becoming more n’ more ragged by the second. Tone thick, “I need you to cum on my fuckin’ tongue so bad-”
“M’so close—” You’re using the leverage you have on his sweaty bangs to tug him in even deeper- not that Toji could go even deeper.
But he smirks at your sheer desperation and you can feel the formulation of his expression against your sodden pussy. And that’s when your panties are being properly ripped off your hips- straight off. Clean. With his teeth. As you buck and gasp, he’s spitting out the useless lace remnants into his left hand and snakin’ it between his legs.
And you’re not quite sure - you can’t see beyond his hunched core - what Toji’s doing with that particular treasure. But by the way his biceps suddenly flex as though gripping something, by the way he lets out a sudden grooooooan deep into your pussy- you can already guess.
Toji’s sculptured arm starts flying up and down at a rapid pace.
In the same sloppy, striking cadence as he’s fuckin’ his tongue between your soft pussylips. He jerks himself off furiously, a thin line of sweat drizzling down his forehead the more, and more, and more-
“Toji, baby—” You’re whimpering out, tugging on his shaggy strands a bit to make him look at you. “M’gonna cum- so don’t stop, m’kay?”
“Has-” Panting out a murky breath, “Has he ever made you cum before?”
To which you’re almost embarrassed to shake your head, “N-no…”
“Can’t believe he’d- fuck.” Toji grumbles, his thick brows marrying together. Those sharp canines of his make an appearance as he snarls, “M’gonna kill that bastard. M’gonna fucking kill him-” Slapping the velvety underside of his tongue down-down-down—“But first m’gonna make you cum.”
And since the last time you saw him, Toji Zenin has learned to keep his promises. And he’s proving it.
Which is why it takes only a few more vicious strikes at the very bottom of your pussy - at the very target of your g-spot - for you to throw your head back n’ start shaking with your orgasm. The white-hot pleasure coursing through your every blood vessel makes you cry out, so much better than you remembered.
This wasn’t the same as idly prodding yourself with your vibrator while your boyfriend wasn’t home.
This makes you buck. This makes you gasp. “C-cumming—” Your thoughts coming belated to you as you’re riding out Toji Zenin’s handsome face, elongating your high on the prominent curve of his nose or the puffiness of his lips. “Cumming, Toji, shit…s’the best it’s ever felt.”
“Uh-huh?” He murmurs up wetly at you. “Only the best for m’girl.”
“Your girl?” And that makes something within you tremor almost as much as your orgasm.
“Shhhhh, and ride out your orgasm-” He’s talking you through those soaring peaks of your high - incredible.
Because not only was Toji curving his fingertips just right against your g-spot, but he smirked against your clit and gently bit down on that nub.
You’re flinching upwards- never having experienced something so strong. At least, not in six months.
And it seems like forever before your high passes - not that you were complaining. That orgasm left you all heated and raw, feeling so wound-up that you honestly thought a mere brush of Toji’s fingers would be enough to get you cumming again.
Your overwhelming wave of pleasure is just barely finished before Toji stands up to his full height again.
Blinking away the tears in your eyes, you’re looking up at him. The slightly-dimmed lights of the locker room created the effect of a halo around his head- how ironic…because the way he’d made out with your pussy made you think of Toji to be someone from quite the opposite realm.
But you don’t get to comment on that right now.
No- you were too busy watching slack-jacked as he tugs off his national team jersey.
And you’d already seen Toji shirtless before - of course, you have. You’ve already seen him in every state there was to see him—but it’s seeing him after so long that really makes your cunt twitch. Your eyes sweep across his broad shoulders, those toned pecs with a certain familiarity- you note that he still had that unruly line of his happy trail. It was deep black in color, a ruggedly handsome look to it as it started off at his abs then snaked all the way down, down, down…
His chiselled abs. His slightly-tanned skin.
The only real difference that you could’ve pointed out was that Toji, in fact, seemed a little…bigger than you remembered him. Bulkier. Beefier. Broader around his arms and his pecs.
And perhaps that was in part to do with memory- but more likely it was that his new training regiment with the national team had been serving him well. Very well.
And his cock, fuck, his cock…
Toji hadn’t fully exposed himself as he jerked off whilst eating you out- but it was more than enough. Just enough of his black hockey pants getting nudged down—they stuck around his meaty upper-thighs, and you’re left starin’ at the thiiiiick throbbing cock in-between.
Toji was big. Toji was hard. Toji was so reddened at the tip of his bulbous shaft that you wondered whether it must be painful-
You hadn’t forgotten just how big he is, had you?
But you swear Toji had been around seven or eight inches the last time you’d…seen him all those months ago. But this? This was about nine- fuck, if you pulled out a ruler than you wouldn’t be surprised if he was around even ten inches.
Perhaps that was just your imagination refusing to concede that your ex was the largest you’ve ever had. The best, too.
Thickened so much that it made your legs squeeze. Covered in veins from underneath his reddish tip, and aaaaaaaaall the way down to his tanned base.
Those hefty balls of his clenched at your attention, and you’re both thinking at the same time that he must’ve really missed you.
Toji reaches his right hand up to his face and spits—slithering it down to give his aching erection a good tug. That mere touch was enough to make him ooze out a few more droplets of pre, capping the top of his crowned tip as though the prettiest glaze.
He has to cough ever-so-slightly to rip your attention away from his cock.
Even then, you could barely keep your eyes off of your ex-boyfriend as he turned his hockey jersey the right way. About to throw it over his shoulder when—he looks at you and seemingly gets an idea.
“Off, doll.”
And suddenly it’s a blur of hands and grabbing - Toji’s pulling your own clothes off, ultimately leaving you in absolutely nothing. He tucks those remnants of your panties in his pants pockets, and tugs your head through the holes of the jersey—
“Y-you’re making me wear this?” You’re babbling out stupidly as he steps back to admire his work, “And only this?”
Toji lets out a low whistle, “Fuck, yeah.” Before gesturing for you to twirl- “Now turn around n’ put your hands on the wall- hah, I want to see my name on you while I fuck you.”
Nevermind the fact that technically this was his last name, as well.
But that didn’t matter - never would. These were Toji’s colors, Toji’s number.
And right now, it was Toji’s fat- aching cock that was making your pussylips bulge apart. Slowly and sensually.
He might’ve been ravenous when he was tasting you for the first time in six months - but Toji was taking his goooood time filling up your driveling orifice. Stuffing back the beads of slick that kept on spraying out of you, letting his pointed tip stretch your entrance out.
He’s letting his breath hitch as he reels his hips back a bit, pushing his twitching cock iiiiiiiiiinside and then out. Iiiiiiiiiinside and then out.
Baaaaack and forth.
Baaaaack and forth.
That ruddied roundness of his cockhead gets stuck between your lips, and Toji’s brows furrow- he attempts to pull out. He really does.
But you’re just gobbling him up so damn greedily- inch by fucking inch. That he can’t help but arch his toned hips against yours- soothing the globes of your ass cheeks a bit before Toji gives a nice, honed thrust. Pointed deep towards the back of your pussy.
Though he isn’t getting that far with your snug channel.
“O-oh—” The captain groans out as he’s sucked in deep, push by fuckin’ push. The intrusion of his girth makes its way ‘round your first ring of tight fuckin’ muscle - slotted between your legs and enough to leave your knees weak with only a few shallow thrusts.
Toji’s having such fun holding onto the side of your waist- eventually moving to hook ‘round your pretty thighs when it seemed as though you were going to collapse.
His pretty girl, so desperate to take him that you can’t even stand.
“Fuck, you feel so good.” He breathes out, scorching breath gusting down the curvature of your spine. “Fuck, my girl’s pussy feels so good—”
“Toji-” And for the first few of his semi-thrusts, you’re letting your eyes roll to the back of your head. But thereafter you’re jerking your hips back in desire for more, craving all those carnal itches inside of you satisfied by Toji’s thick cock. “N-need it.”
Toji opens his mouth to tease - you’re sure of it - but at that very moment you’re using your velvety walls to give him a thorough clench that makes him break off into a groan. “This pussy’s been so hungry f’me, hm?”
Shivers wracking through your entire body. “Y-yes-”
“He didn’t fuck you like he should’ve, hm?”
“He didn’t—fuck.”
“Always wished it was your- heh, ex beside you, huh?”
Tearily, you’re looking back at him with an expression of sheepish guilt. “Yes…”
“Oh—” And the mere fact that you said that - your mere answer - is enough for the towering man to hunch his body into yours. To buck his hips into you like an animal.
It wasn’t even planned.
Just an instinctual movement to graze his dribbling tip against the very forefront of your womb- Toji lets his cockhead pulse inside you for a moment before starting to fuck you again. Slightly speedier, slightly deeper.
Slightly rubbin’ the line of his flared ridge against your dewy insides—it made the man’s balls clench to watch the way you’d drip n’ suction around him. You were fucking thinking of him? Just as much as he was thinking of you? “So this pussy has been greedy f’me.” As if to prove his point, he’s easing in just a few more puckered inches to swipe the front of his burning divot against your spongy cervix. “How many times have you touched yerself to the thought of me?”
“I-I—” It takes you a sudden slap on your pussylips to realize that he was genuinely waiting for an answer.
“How many times?” Toji gasps between his clenched canines, Adam’s apple bobbing in fervor. “And don’t lie to me, girlie- I know s’been more than once.”
“So many times-” Just the most sultry scrape against your g-spot- the sensation of Toji’s pulsating cockhead pressing on those nerves feels so good. Good enough to reveal your secrets, your hazy brain seems to think. “T-too many times to count-”
“Fuck.” He has to gnaw down on his bottom lip to keep himself from cumming too soon. Too fast. If anything, he wasn’t going to be like that (likely) two-pump chump boyfriend of yours.
Which is why the older man finds himself smearing his left hand over your pussylips once more- this time, however, it wasn’t to place a mean spank. It was to spread those folds open and roll his fingertips over your neglected clit. “Dirty girl. And h-how many times have you cum just from the thought of me?”
“All of those times, Toji.” The constant rhythmic nudgin’ of your favorite spot was enough to leave your mind absolutely shattered by this point in time. “All those times I—ngh, can only cum if it’s you.”
“Oh?” Fuck—fuck, fuck, fuck. D-don’t even fuckin’ say…” He reaches down and slams his hand against your clit once more - partly to take his mind off of those sinful words you were babbling, partly out of punishment for exactly those. And if you were in any better state of mind, then you’d have marvelled at the fact that you’d just made Toji Zenin sound damn starstruck. Just with your pussy. “Don’t even fuckin’ say that shit.”
He leans over you and nuzzles his cheek against your own.
Scarred lips muttering into your ear, “I know she’s been- fuck, needing me just as much as I need her.” They’re kissing down your sweaty temple for a few seconds before sinking his teeth into your ear lobe, “I know she’s been fucking—dreaming of me, wishing for me, fantasizing about me, getting so fuckin’ aroused at just the thought of me that- hah, locker rooms like these were a problem.”
Blinking the tears away from your eyes, “W-wait…”
“Or maybe that was just me.” Toji finishes off. Though he really didn’t have to for you to realize that he’d been talking about himself the entire time.
Toji had been craving you these past six months.
Desiring you.
Fucking his fist and his pillows at the thought that - perhaps one day - he’ll have you underneath him like this again.
And perhaps that’s why there was a strange reverence to everything he did. Something jittery at his fingertips, something that made him hold you a little tighter - as though to make sure that you were really real.
He’s looping both strong arms around your tremoring figure and gluing you to his toned front. There, you were being massaged after each rub n’ puuuuuull of his vein-decorated cock down your swallowing insides. Hand still reaching downwards.
Toji lets out the most lecherous slurps once he still manages to loop his hand between your sodden pussylips n’ toy with your clit. Finger pinching. Thumb rolling. Just by how sensitive you were - still getting re-used to the sultry sensation of someone else’s hand upon your nub - he knew that that damn Naoya wasn’t properly lovin’ on this part of you, either.
And it makes his blood boil just as it did on the rink today.
His fingers move on top of your clit at an almost frenzied pace- back arching, head throwing back.
Naturally, your lips spread wide open to let out an echoing moan—but it’s too late. Toji’s already leaning in and replacing it with a dollop of his sweetened saliva, “Yeah…” He looks down at you as though you were a dream, “M-maybe that was just me- fuck, but I have one question, doll.”
“Yes—?” Sobbing out.
“Have you ever…” Almost as if it was a precious secret, meant to be between the two of you and the locker room, Toji leans down to whisper against your ear. “-imagined me while he was fucking you?”
Your jaw drops.
Your cunt twitches.
And Toji feels the flooding of your walls with arousal- it’s splashin’ either side of his cylindrical girth. One that was probing and pushing—and speckling every sweet spot inside you with his sap, Toji was fucking you as though he was furious with you.
Long, hard pummels of his hips.
Hard enough that the skin surrounding his pelvis area was reddened.
Long enough that your mind was already completely muddled - filled with only the probin’ pressure of his plump cockhead. Pointing against the cute button of your g-spot once more—“Yes.” You whisper.
And if there was anything - anything - that could make the Toji Zenin falter, then it would’ve been this. Because for two split-seconds you’re feeling the constant sloppy scouring of your innards pause- before it’s resuming harder than ever.
Before he’s fully bottomed-out now and slamming against the gooey depths of your womb.
Before you’re cumming from just that single thrust-
“Y-yes—?” Even Toji’s voice shatters on the repetition of your answer - and he’s looking down at you with his deep, probing eyes. “You- you thought about m-me fucking you when you were still with that bastard?”
You turn around at the amused disbelief in his voice, and nod. “Always thought about you, Toji.” You’re not blind to the way this particular sentence makes the other man flinch—“Every time. He must’ve thought that- ngh, he was the one making me feel good this whole time but it was- oh. It was you.”
“And it…felt good?”
“So good-”
Unsure what to say - unsure what to even do- Toji merely leans down and bites the tender side of your throat. Sure for anyone to see past your collar.
Claimed.
You squeal as you’re fucked through your second high of the night, “A-always you—Toji.” Though loooooong and rugged smooches of his tip, perfectly pointed to graze your ridges inside and ultimately end up on the g-spot.
Tears bursting to your eyes. Hands slipping with sweat along the tiles.
Toji pulls you even deeper into his embrace - grabbing ahold of your neck with his free hand, the other reaching down to pinch your clit in short, staccato pulses. Matching the peaks of your high. He makes sure to wait just until your wracks of pleasure are at their highest, before plummeting his throbbing cock inside.
Maximizing the rub-a-dub of those prominent veins of his. Sending spurts of pleasure shivering all throughout your body at their massage.
Ridged shaft stretchin’ out those spots that feel the best, his sheer length splitting you up from the inside - you couldn’t possibly forget how well Toji’s cock filled you. Reaching into any deep crevice and orifice, markin’ himself out aaaaaall across your channel with the rounded bruises he left behind.
The captain of the ice hockey team was ruttin’ into you so hard that it was causing the heels of your feet to lift off the floor.
His thick fingertips dig into your body, plastering you against him- “Always you, my girl.” His words come out sharp and exhaled, “Only you.”
“O-only—ngh.” He catches you from slipping down the vertical wall, scorched chuckles dusting down the crook of your neck. “Toji…”
“Hmmmm?”
Slight panic bleeding into your tone, “Th-there’s someone in the other l-locker room—fuck.”
“Fuckin’ what?”
Still wracking with the waves of your high. “There’s someone in the other locker room-”
Growling, he’s bowing his powerful lower half towards you - where you were frantically gesturing and miming something at the other side of the wall. The locker rooms were positioned as such that they were side-by-side, sharing a single wall split down the middle of its vast cavern, from which they ignored the existence of the other out of courtesy.
And no matter what one might fear about rowdy ice hockey teams, it never did cause any issues. Yet.
Right now you could hear someone’s footsteps through the tiled wall, you could hear someone’s existence, you could hear someone muttering.
Seemingly not having the best of days - though after that loss, you couldn’t blame them - your mystery US player was banging on locker doors and hissing out swears. It’s only once he seemingly drops something on the floor by accident, letting out a string of expletives starting with ‘b’ that it’s clicking just exactly who this player is—
“Oh, look-” Toji’s the first to start, and you could practically hear the smirk in his voice. “-your wittle boyfriend’s here, too, doll.”
“He’s not my-”
“Why don’t we give him a proper welcome, hm?” Toji’s crooning out meanly, “Why don’t we cheer him up? That little ah- incident on the ice must’ve really been a blow to his ego.”
You’re shivering at the implications, “D-don’t you fucking dare-”
“Whaaaaaat? M’not doing nothing.” Scarred lips quirking up into a grin- you’re noticing that Toji hasn’t slowed his hammerin’ down for a single second. In fact, he’s reeling his slick-glazed cock backwards and leaning the weight down upon your lower half, probin’ you at even deeper angles. The smooth, slippery tip of his shaft was swabbing away into those nice bundles of nerves- “I didn’t even say that you should do anything.”
Hiccuping at the feeling of him funneling you full - all the way to your throat. “Th-then—”
“I just need you to be a—mmm, good girl f’me and- hah, take it.” The constant smacking of his toned hips get even harder, louder. Ricocheting off your eardrums and off the walls- “Take aaaaaaall from tip to base.”
The utmost amount of squelches n’ slurps leaving you.
You wondered if Naoya could already hear you…
Shivering at the carnal feeling of him stretchin’ those tiniest orifices within you up. You loved the way his honed tip would ease in, only getting thicker and longer and thiiiicker and loooonger the more he’s fucking you. The more.
“Take it aaaaaaall until this greedy pussy’s satiated-” He pinches your clit once more, lining down the spot of your nerves. “Take it all until this pussy remembers-”
There’s the sound of another locking being slammed from the other side of the wall.
And you’re shivering-
To which Toji grinds his hips in close - so close - that you’re unable to buck n’ swerve your hips away. Eagerly taking those deeply probing grinds of his, “Take it until this pussy remembers who’s always fucked her right.”
You’re mewling through your tears, “Y-you—”
And Toji grins before bunching up that red, red jersey of his in his free hand. Looking at the name that flashed upon your arched back, jostling with each thrust - “And who’s that? What’s the name on the back of this jersey?”
“But he has the same—fuck.” Moan echoing so fucking loud this time- you’re swearing you hear the other man pause whatever he was doing. Hear him listen. Hear him wait. “Zenin.”
Something drops to the floor on the other side of the wall, as if fallen in shock.
And Toji smirks.
“That’s right-” He pants out open-mouthed kisses down the side of your neck, “Can’t hear you- what’s the name?”
“Zenin-”
“Still can’t hear you-” Thrusts and bursts of pleasure steadily climbing up in intensity. Even though you’ve just cum, you could feel a twitching at the pit of your stomach. “What’s the name?”
“Zenin-”
“What’s the fuckin’ name?”
There was no way he couldn’t hear by now. The slapping. The clenching. The moans. “Zenin—”
He slaps your clit once. “And who’s last name is that?”
You knew you were going to fall apart soon. You knew that all it’s going to take was one final thrust- reeling his rounded, glossy tip back as far as it would go. It’s letting just a few tears cascade down your cheeks, and you’re looking back - “Y-yours, Toji?”
“No.” He grins—chiselled core pummeling into yours. He teases your clit with a cute lil’ heart drawn on top, “S’gonna be yours.”
“Oh—” With the loudest, most lecherous moan yet- you’re falling apart all over Toji Zenin’s cock. So sensitive that your orgasm rips through your stark and primal - nothing but a resurgence of bliss that leaves your limbs feeling all weak.
They’re shaking just a lil’ as you’re riding out your high on his vein-covered cock, the perfect number of strikes before your g-spot feels raw.
The perfect number of strikes before your clouded mind gets even cloudier—and Toji’s throwing his head back with a sharp, busting orgasm. Toes curling. Abs clenching. Beading from the drooling divot of his shaft, he gushes out constant volumes of cum.
Letting it dribble all the way from your deepest depths to your sultry hole- and then spotting even the tiniest crevices inside of you with his pearly white juices. “Shit-” His crackling tone breaks out into the heady air, “Sh-shit, now she’s properly mine again- heh.”
As Toji fucks his wads of seed deeper inside you, they’re letting off the most lewd squelches.
“Now she’s shut up her yowling a bit- ngh, my girl’s been wanting this for so long, huh?”
“Yes.” You nod.
“She’s been starvin’ for my cum?” He coaxes, “She’s been all empty without me?”
“So filthy…” You’re mumbling out. Uncaring anymore of what Naoya would think - you didn’t hear anything more from his side of the locker room—maybe he’d disappeared?
“Damn right.” Toji chuckles. Dark bangs covering most of his vision as he’s pumping his thickened tip inside, swervin’ aside your sopping wet walls to make even more room for his thick cum. “She’s now all full I think, hmmmm?”
And you certainly felt full.
You could feel the splashin’ around of those gooey puddles of sap inside you, clinging onto the tiniest spots they could. He was only messing your insides even further with every single thrust—leaving a wet puddle of most of it seeping into the very back of your womb. “I th-think so-”
“What was that, Mrs. Zenin?” Toji goads, his voice ringing out loudly. “Think yer all full with my cum or do you want even- hah, more?”
You’re murmuring something unintelligible that he has to lean in to hear.
“What was that? Can’t hear you, doll, you’ve gotta speak up-” Suddenly, he leans away and addresses the other side of the wall. “Whaddaya think, Naoya? Think she deserves some more-”
“Toji, shut up—” Swatting behind at him.
Toji escapes with a burst of gruff laughter, “Of course, I wouldn’t ask that fucker-” He presses a somewhat chaste kiss onto your lips, “Tell me, doll, what do you want?”
“I w-want…” You’re repeating from before.
“Hmmmm?”
“Think I might want your baby, Toji.” Peering up at him with such pretty heart-eyes.
And that makes his breath hitch.
That makes him stall.
Toji’s green eyes widen just a fraction- before he’s pulling out and turning you around. Staring deep into your eyes, the captain urges you to jump - wrapping your legs around his toned waist, your hands on his shoulders, your body being easily hoisted by his own - so that he can lift you off the floor.
Probin’ that rock-hard tip of his inwards-
“Guess there’ll be one more Zenin this time next year- heh. ”
.
.
.
Naoya Zenin was stunned. He was speechless.
Which is highly unusual, because Naoya Zenin is never shocked. Never speechless.
Except for when he saw the estranged Toji Zenin at the game…and when he got beat up by Toji Zenin at the game…and right now, as it’s slowly dawning upon him that Toji Zenin was fucking his girlfriend after the game-
Naoya didn’t think you were serious, alright?
Because how many fuckin’ times have you threatened to break up with him over stupid shit like that? This was just a little outing with the boys - to a few nighttime establishments with a few nighttime girls - that was being blown majorly out of proportion.
And sure, Naoya might have embarrassed himself thoroughly in front of you and a couple million spectators today.
But what couldn’t a 5000 yen bouquet fit?
He was planning on making up with you right after, telling you to stop being paranoid and perhaps this will only make your relationship stronger in the long run. And he’d just gotten back from the medic to get his shit back when…when the noises had started up.
It was a slightly damp noise at first, almost like water.
Then came the soft groans.
The impact of skin-on-skin.
The voices that made it undeniable—if only he couldn’t recognize them. And he almost couldn’t, to be quite honest, Naoya had never heard you making such noises when it was him in bed.
But he knew it was you.
Worst of all, with Toji fucking Zenin of all people.
And it was when Toji had loudly announced your engagement to him, the way you’d be taking his last name (Naoya had no clue the two of you had dated before, and he didn’t want to know) that’d been the last straw for him. He dumps his bangs and his uniforms behind, storming out from a locker room that was now thoroughly invaded by the sounds of your sex.
Muttering some unrepeatable phrases underneath his breath, Naoya’s so caught up in his wallowing that he nearly doesn’t notice the man he bulldozes over in his effort to get away.
“Oh, hey—” Shiu smiles sheepishly at the younger man, “I just wanted to check on y-”
“I’m fine-”
And with that he’s storming off. To where? He doesn’t know, he’ll probably have to come back and get his shit later but…
He takes it that you’ve now officially broken up with him.
Meanwhile, suit-clad, clipboard-holding Shiu is left utterly confused at what just happened. He’d expected a screaming match, maybe several lawsuits by the spoiled heir of the Zenin Industries at least.
Refusing to believe his luck, Shiu takes a peak inside the opposing team’s locker room just to make sure that everything was alright- and that’s when he hears it. “—think I might want your baby, Toji.”
Oh.
Oh.
It was coming from the other side of the large wall- their locker room.
And he’s recognising the voice- wait, that’s your voice. Toji’s ex that he’d been moping over for these past six months, the one that triggered their captain to get in that fight today in the first place.
Though, he doesn’t blame you- with that fucker as a boyfriend? Shiu doesn’t think he’s biased for claiming that his best friend’s leagues better.
But, at the end of the day, Shiu was their coach above all.
And as their coach, he couldn’t allow his players to get into anything reckless or anything violating the code of the Olympics. They’d all be in such deep shit if you happened to be caught - so you must forgive Shiu for doing what he has to do.
For rounding the other side of the locker room entrances and stepping into his own team’s chamber. Heady with sweetness, with sex.
He’s here as a coach to warn the two of you- really. That’s just it.
That’s it.
Nothing else. Nothing else at all.
No ulterior motives.
His pants tighten, cock twitching traitorously at the barrage of noises leaking into every corner of the room.
Shiu raps on your stall door as a…coach.
A/N. Mwahahaha…come to me coach… ALSO TO MY PHILIPPINES BABYGIRLS WE MISS YOUUUU <33
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Synopsis: Sukuna puts on a show for his viewers, and you are the lead actress
・❥・characters: ryomen sukuna.
・❥・requests : rules
warnings: mdni, 18+, smut, mastrubation (f), degrotary terms (slut, whore), exhibitionism (kinda? he fucks you in front of thousands of viewers), fingerfucking, use of vibrator.
・❥・wc: 1.4k
・❥・masterlist
Head thrown back on the sofa, you heard quiet squelches, intermittent huffs, and sounds of keyboard clicking.
Sukuna had his attention on the screen, the chat flooding with comments as he worked through another area of crossfire.
He continued his commentary, unconcerned that you were fingering yourself, your arousal becoming a pool on the leather. It was he who gave you the order and instructed you to prepare yourself for him.
It had initially excited you but you were confused as to why he would ask that right before his scheduled streaming time.
But it all became evident when he booted up his streaming system while you were knuckles-deep in your cunt.
His webcam recorded his face as well as the scene behind him, including his bed. Next to his arrangement was a little loveseat—the one you're sitting in right now—positioned a little distance away from him.
Luckily, the webcam was unable to detect you, hiding you from his audience.
Your fingers worked inside you, letting out small moans, loud enough to make sure it was only audible to your boyfriend.
"S'kuna...please...you're so mean~"
You continued to whine and plead until Sukuna had no choice but to look at you. Swiftly muting himself for a second, he speaks in a low, teasing voice.
"Tch. C'mere, slut."
He commands, red eyes meeting yours. Your eyes sparkle eagerly as you fix your skirt, Sukuna going back to talk to his viewers.
"Y'all haven't met my bae yet, have you? C'mere doll." He holds out his hand, moving his chair back for you to slide in.
You walk into the frame, grinning sheepishly as Sukuna's hand circles your waist, pulling you onto his lap.
"Say hi, doll~"
He smirks into your ear, feeling your bare pussy flush against his covered thigh, the material of his sweats soaking up your slick. Your thighs clench together, growing hot due to the proximity.
"H-hello..." You give a brief smile, eyes catching the flood of comments.
'lucky bastard'
'you have a gf??!'
'she's smokin' hot bruh'
'sheesh possessive much?'
'show those hands kuna'
'10 out of 10'
'he could do so much better'
'she's outta your league dude'
'bro continue the game'
'nice to meet ya!'
'what's her name?'
'he calls her doll?! i'm so jealous'
'i want that hand around my neck'
The inappropriate words woven throughout the comments cause your eyes to bulge. You pondered whether Sukuna had to endure comments like these on a regular basis and whether this was the norm.
And even though you try to contain your jealousy, you silently grit your teeth when you notice the comments that insult you or blatantly thirst over your boyfriend.
With your legs slung over one side of Sukuna's lap, you shift and snake your arms around his neck, burying your face in his chest.
Sukuna chuckles, the verbal gesture reverberating on your cheek as he soothes a hand over your head.
"My baby was sleeping, don't mind her. Let's finish the fight." He says, shifting closer so everything below your waist is no longer in view.
He continues, discreetly muting himself a bit later knowing everyone's attention would be on the game now.
Since you were sitting sideways, he taps on your thigh, urging you to get closer.
"Lift your ass, baby."
You do so, leaning into him more to lift your hips sideways, your pussy open for him.
His hand drags up your skirt enough to uncover your ass, fingers immediately ghosting over your folds.
"So. Fucking. Wet."
He growls, his fingertips circling your clit at a torturing speed.
Your cunt pulses in anticipation, vision getting foggy at the thought of being fucked live. His fingertips circle your clit, your arousal cascading across your thigh.
"S'kuna...your fingers please..."
"Be quiet."
Your lips tremble at his denial as he continues to torment your clit. You glance at his computer screen, observing as his left hand continues to spam some buttons on the keyboard.
Although you wondered what he managed to do without using his mouse, and you would be right to assume that.
He was failing miserably but his attention was now fixated on you, noticing your cheeks glow red, eyes scrunched up, face pressed against his shirt.
His slender hand cups your cunt, wanting to see you grow desperate on his lap. You squirm as impatience looms over your being. You were one stroke away from fucking him then and there.
Thankfully your prayers were answered as Sukuna smoothly slips two fingers into your cunt. You hiss at the notable difference in your fingers and his, feeling your hole stretch further and his digits reach deeper.
This would never get old. No matter how many times he does this, his hands will always be your favorite.
You groan as he starts to move, thrusting slowly. You would have been complaining about the speed if it hadn't been for the delicious stretch.
"You're so wet, but I need you to be drenched. Need these juices all over my set up~"
Your eyes sting in embarrassment, not being able to contain your whimper due to his nasty words. As soon as he had said that, you were empty once again, hearing Sukuna rummaging through his desk.
You jolt hard once a harsh vibration pulse on your clit— unable to hold back, you let out a moan before instantly sealing your lips shut.
Sparing a glance at the chat, you saw numerous comments of people trash-talking your boyfriend's performance in the game, but none of them said anything about your wanton actions.
"Mmmm, eyes on me, slut. Keep moanin' for me. Need to see you bitch and whine like a whore."
"H-hurts 'Kuna! S-sensitive...please..."
He grins evilly, loving your tortured expression. Gaining an idea, the position of his hands changes around your body.
He moves you so that you were straddling him instead, back against his chest as he plunges the tiny vibrator into your cunt, walls molding around the silicon.
His hand was in between his crotch and your dripping sex, fingers not moving from your hole as he continued to finger you.
His left hand was no longer on the keyboard, but instead, they handled a small device, pressing a few buttons here and there.
You hadn't noticed the vibrations getting faster, but due to your last reaction, Sukuna amped up the speed to the third highest setting, making you harshly jolt, eyes rolling back.
Your vision blurs at the feeling, such cruel vibrations right against your cervix made your head dizzy, his fingers adding to the coil in your stomach.
"Fuck yourself on me. Just...like...that~ Keep crying bitch...So. Fucking. Sexy."
Your body started to move, hands on Sukuna's gaming chair handles as you separated your back from him, sliding your pussy across his fingers.
"Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah!"
You pant with every thrust, your juices dripping down his knuckles, a puddle on his lap.
By now, everyone on the livestream had noticed the filthy actions. It was hard not to with tears running down your face and drool seeping from your mouth.
Shame had long left your body, mind forgetting that there were thousands of people witnessing your whorish act.
To make things worse, Sukuna started to roll back his chair, webcam capturing a full view of your sloppy pussy. And for the cherry on top...
...he turned on the mic, just as you started gushing around him.
"Cum for you! Gonna cum! For you! Only you!"
PING!
"So full! My pussy is so full~!"
PING!
"Ngh-! Spit in my mouth 'Kuna! Wanna taste you..."
PING!
"Will be a slut for you, S'kuna! Please go deeper~!"
PING!
"Can feel you so deep 'Kuna~!"
PING!
"S'kuna~! Cumming!"
PING!
"Too much!"
PING!
PING!
PING!
PING!
PING!
Your loud moans drown out all the donation pings that flood his computer. Sukuna smirks on your shoulder, canines digging into the skin as he chuckles at your sloppy cunt.
His hands fondled your bra-less chest, your shirt molding over your tit as Sukuna groped your mound, nipples visible through the fabric.
"Such a pretty whore I have here...don't ya think?"
PING!
PING!
"Just look are this pussy..."
Sukuna maneuvers you to sit back close to his chest as his hands spread your legs apart, placing them on each side of his chair.
Placing the remote down, he spits on one hand, his other tearing off your shirt leaving you bare save for your skirt that was bunched up on your torso.
He later smooths his palm over your breast, spreading his saliva on your nipples making them perk up.
"Pretty tits too..."
"Ngh..."
"Shhh."
Sukuna gives a swift slap to your pussy when you started to whine, which only makes you yelp out once more.
PING!
PING!
His hands stay on your cunt, spreading your folds.
"...And look at this tiny hole. Fuck her every day too, it doesn't make a difference."
PING!
"Caught me a slutty one, tastes fucking delicious. Wanna see her squirt?"
PING!
PING!
PING!
PING!
PING!
PING!
PING!
PING!
PING!
PING!
"I'll take that as a yes. See baby? They love your sloppy cunt...what do you say?"
Content: 18+, smut, second hand embarrassment, cursing, sex on the phone, name calling, oral (f receiving), fingering, pouty toji, use of y/n, y/bsf/n = your bestfriend’s name, second person pov,
Word Count: 2.6K
Synopsis: Toji is impatient and gets what he wants when he wants it, regardless if you're on the phone.
You were sitting on the bed that you share with Toji, on the phone with your bestfriend talking about nothing of importance.
"You know the guy I told you about last week," your bestfriend starts and then pauses briefly for your response.
"Yea?"
"Well I found out he's gay." Your bestfriend says flatly.
Upon hearing that, you could not help but laugh. Laughing so hard that tears begin to form from how hard you were laughing.
"Shits not funny y/n." She smacks her lips and ends with a huff.
"Oh I beg to differ," you barely force out through your continued laughter and tears. "You definitely made a fool of yourself. And you swore up and down that he was looking at you during that party." you add.
"Well he was. But not for the reason I thought it was." She signs.
As you were responding to y/bsf/n, you hear heavy footsteps coming up the stairs, and toward the room. You’re laying on the bed with your back facing the door. Knowing that the footsteps could only belong to Toji, you pay no mind and continue your conversation.
"Yea I see. But my question is why did he give you his number? Better yet, why did he even invite you out the following weekend?" As you finish your sentence, you feel the bed sink next to you.
You soon feel a pair of muscular and warm arms around your waist, pulling you into a strong embrace. You move the phone away from your ear, leaving your bestfriend talking at the other end. Turning to look at Toji over your shoulder, you raise your eyebrow and your eyes meet a pair of green pouty eyes. His lips are curled down into a soft frown to match the same pouty look his eyes portray. This only makes you slightly narrow your eyes as you question his intentions.
He doesn't say anything, but just keeps giving you the same look. Behind those pouty green eyes, you see a glint of something sinister and maybe even a twitch in the corner of his lips.
Your bestfriend's voice is what brought you back to reality, realizing you heard nothing she said after your last reply to her.
"Wait, what did you say? The phone cut out." You calmly say.
As your bestfriend begins the same sentence for the second time, your attention is pulled away by the feeling of something warm, moist, and soft on your shoulder blade. His arms tighten around your waist and pulls you closer than before. You feel the heat radiating off his body, and the smell of his cologne flood your nostrils.
You take a sharp breath, turning your head so fast that you almost collide with Toji. He retreats from his previous position, pulling his head back and looks down at you through hooded and dark eyes. His sinful intentions becoming more evident.
"Move." You whisper while covering the bottom of the phone. "I'm on the phone." You add as you place the phone back to your ear.
Your bestfriend is still speaking so you didn't miss the whole statement, however, before tuning back in you hear Toji mutter, "I don't care."
Moments later, you feel Toji caressing your clothe hips. He’s tracing the groove where your waist meets your hip. He makes light circles as he trails down to the outer part of your thigh. Still making circles, but they become firmer as he slip his hand between your thighs. Wearing shorts at this very moment seemed to be the worst idea as he caresses the most inner part of your thigh.
The temperature in the room becomes hotter as the air thickens. You take another breath, but this time it’s deeper.
“Y/bsf/n, I have to call you b-” Before you could finish your sentence, Toji presses his lips to your ear and with a tone he says, “Stay on the phone.”
Your body freezes, with shock and arousal. You can’t turn your head to look at him because his head is tucked into your neck, planting soft kisses as his large and calloused hand covers a great portion of your inner thigh. All at once his pinky brushes against your already soaked core every time he gives your thigh a light squeeze.
You take in another deep breath that starts off shaky and eventually gets stuck in your throat.
“Alright, call me back later. Don’t forget.”
Toji could obviously hear what y/bsf/n said because he stopped his hand. but not his kisses on your neck.
“Keep her on the phone, or I’ll stop.” He mutters in your neck as he bites on the spot at the base of your neck.
"Aah- wait!" You bite your lower lip out of shock as you try to contain your moan.
“Stay on the phone. I don’t have to call you back anymore.”
The room is getting hotter and your breaths are getting shorter. The closeness of Toji’s body is already doing a number on you as he continues assaulting your neck and moving his hand to fully cover where you needed him the most.
“Okay. So what do you think?” Your bestfriend’s voice brings you back to reality for the second time as you still didn’t hear what she said for the third time.
You can’t say the phone cut out again, that won’t fly. You also can’t think of a way to get her to repeat herself fast enough as Toji begins to rub your clothe pussy. You know you’re already soaked by the way Toji lets out a low groan.
“Fuck, you’re already wet just from me barely touching you. You must like me touching you while your best friend is on the phone.”
You still didn’t respond to your friend, but the friction Toji is creating is clouding your mind. Your hips begin to move involuntarily.
“Talk.” Toji practically growls in your ear.
“I actually don’t know.” You force out through gritted teeth.
Toji hooks his leg around yours to pull your legs further apart, giving him more room as he continues to rub you through your shorts.
“You know, you’re no damn help. I might as well be talking to a wall right now.” You hear your bestfriend say through the phone.
She might as well be talking to a wall because you have not been listening. To make matters worse, Toji slides his hand into your shorts and panties to rub your bare soaked pussy. Your hips buck when his fingers slide through your folds as he makes circles and what feels like figure eights.
“Keep talking.” His voice is rough.
“I’m listening!” You say, rather shout louder than intended when you feel Toji slip his finger inside of you. The sound of his finger entering you is enough to draw another low groan out of him.
“Fucking slut, this pussy is soaking.”
The urge to stay quiet becomes harder. You bite your lip and put her on speaker, no longer able to keep the phone in your hand. Instead, you grab a fistful of the sheets in hope to relieve the tension that your mouth cannot.
“Well listen better! I have another person on my rooster that invited me to dinner. Need your help picking an outfit.” Your bestfriend’s voice chimes through the room.
You’re trying your hardest to pay attention, you’re biting your lip and curling your toes as Toji adds another finger and pumps them in and out at a consistent and quickened pace. His thumb applies pressure to your clit as he massages it. You feel Toji’s dick against your thigh as he dry humps you.
Your phone brings you back…again. The sound of a video call coming through makes you panic. You turn to look at Toji and he already has a smirk on his face.
“Answer it.”
Your eyes are wide and your face becomes hot. You’re so aroused right now and he knows it. He doesn’t stop or slow down, he goes faster and begins to curl his fingers. The assault on you makes your back arch off the bed as you chew on the inside of your cheek.
“I-I ca-can’t.” You whisper, breathless.
It is taking everything in you to keep quiet. Moans clawing at your throat to escape. Your toes are curled so hard you are sure they are going to get stuck like that.
“Answer. The. Phone.” Toji says with a sharp curl of his fingers.
“Fu-ck.” You squeak out, loud enough for him to hear, but hopefully not enough for her to hear.
“Are you going to answer so I can show you?” Your bestfriend says.
You couldn’t possible survive this. The look on your voice will surely give you away. There’s no way you can answer the call and be in the camera without making faces. It’s hard enough you have to be quiet.
Another sharp curl of his fingers and firmer pressure on your pussy snaps you out of your thoughts. Toji has one eyebrow raised and his eyes are dark and authoritative.
“Answer the fucking phone.”
You pick the phone up with shaky hands and let out a shaky breath to prepare yourself. Sweat is building up on your forehead and you quickly wipe it off along with a quick once over of your whole face to reset.
You answer the phone.
“Fucking finally. Took you so long?” You see your bestfriend on the screen and you see yourself in the upper right hand corner.
Disheveled and almost ruined.
You make sure she can’t see Toji in the camera and try your hardest to keep a straight face.
“So-sorry.” Was all you could respond with. The familiar pressure beginning to build in your stomach and Toji could feel it by the way your walls start to tighten.
His fingers pick up the pace and his thumb now rest firmly on your clit. His other hand makes its way up your shirt to your breast. His hand are big enough to cover your whole breast, kneading it. The pleasure is too much. Your thighs are slick with your juices and the squishing sounds from your pussy echos in the room. You move the camera away from your face as it contorts.
“Just look, these three are the option.” You see the outfits from the corner of your eyes.
“Toji.” You mouth toward him, feeling yourself tighten more around him when he pinches your nipple.
He doesn’t say anything. Just looks down at you with a grin and dark green eyes as he continues to beat your pussy with his fingers. He nods his head toward the phone, motioning for you to look at the phone.
The way he’s looking down at you, brings you closer. The feeling of his fingers deep inside you brings you closer. The way his hands knead your breast brings you closer.
"Y/N!" your bestfriend yells on the other side of the phone. “Are you looking?” She adds.
“No.” You respond.
Toji pinches your nipples again, but harder.
“I-I mean yes! Oh yes!”
Toji chuckles. “Not good to lie.” He teases.
He’s enjoying seeing you unravel by his hand and you’re fighting to compose yourself. The phone was not on you face. Your eyes are practically rolling to the back of your head as he maintains a constant pace. There was no way you could be in the camera.
“Then pick one.” You could hear your bestfriend getting impatient.
Your mind is cloudy, your eyes are low, and your back is practically off of the bed from hard far your arching. The pleasure becoming overwhelming as the pressure in the pit of your stomach becomes too much to bare. Toji feels your walls tightening. You know you’re getting close, and so does he.
“Uh-Uh.” You try to contain yourself which is impossible at this point.
You look back at the phone and see the outfits. However, before you could speak, you feel the bed shift as Toji starts to move down and between your legs.
At this point, you don’t know how much you can take. He has abandoned fondling with your breast and now has one hand to keep your legs open, the other in your pussy as he begins to plant sloppy kissing on your cunt. The sudden warm breath makes your hips jerk.
“Fuck.” You hiss out.
“That hard to make a decision? I know they’re all cute options….That’s why I need your help.”
Toji grips your thigh firmly as he continues to thrust his fingers and licking up your leaking juices. His tongue is so warm and when he sucks on your clit you know you’re going to last any longer.
“Omg.” Your arm becomes weak and you drop the phone, taking a handful of Toji’s hair.
You’re grinding against his face, biting your lip as your head lies on the bed looking up at the ceiling.
“Girl, what are you doing? You’re clearly distracted.” You can hear it in her voices she’s getting suspicious.
At this point, you don’t care anymore. The feeling so good and you can’t take it. The thought of being quiet or getting caught aiding your arousal. The feeling of Toji between your legs pushes you to your breaking point. With one harsh suck of your clit, you’re tipping over the edge
“I’m—-I’m….cummingggg. FUCK.”
Your breathe is unstable and your words are force out. You’re breathless and a moaning mess as you completely come undone. Toji doesn’t stop, he continues. Your hips raise off the bed as your back arches again. Your hands are full of Toji’s hair and the bed sheets, pulling both firmly. The powerful orgasm is enough to make you forget you were on the phone as you moan loudly.
“Fuck Toji! Mm ‘so good. So gooood!”
"HELLO! Aww hell nah," a voice screams through the phone.
Your eyes meet Toji’s as you mouth 'OMG' and cover your mouth. He still didn’t stop. Just looks up at you as he helps you ride out your orgasm until you’re sensitive. You can see your juices covering and glistening on his cheeks.
Toji was too focused, he didn’t care. He’s pussy drunk, drinking up your juices as they continue spilling even after you finished and been caught.
You snap your fingers in his face as your teeth dig into your bottom lip. You point to the phone and he raises his head from between your legs as he licks his lips and then his fingers.
"Ya’ll are nasty as hell." your bestfriend chuckles through the phone. “I would appreciate yall freaky asses to at least wait till I’m off the phone. You could have been muted it Y/N.”
You grabbed the phone in horror.
"H-H-Hello" you stutter, you don’t dare put your face in the camera. Too horrified and embarrassed.
"You freaky bitch. At least one of us is getting dicked down.” She teases.
“I-I. We weren’t.” Your words are cut off short because it wouldn’t have made a difference if you corrected her on a technicality since you both were still engaged in a form of sexual behavior.
Your head snaps to a smirking Toji. He’s amused as he enjoys every bit of it. You shake your head in embarrassment. You can’t form any words, still fuzzy from the orgasm and of course the embarrassment.
Toji decides to take pity on you and grabs the phone from your hand.
“Hey, y/bsf/n.” He smuggly and proudly says as he holds the phone in front of his face.
“Oh jeez.” You huff.
“Freaky ass number 2.” You hear her say.
“She’s going to call you back when I’m done with her. That way her mind is clear enough to help you pick out that outfit for your date later.”
“Very funny, Fushiguro. Goodbye.” She says and hangs up the phone.
"Ugh,” you mutter and put the pillow over your face.
Hi my imaginers. I hope you enjoyed this one. 😉 lemme know what ya think.
PSA to fic readers, it is so hard to freak a fic writer out with your comments. we are just as crazy about the fic as you are.
tell me you love it. tell me it made you slam your laptop shut. tell me you brought it up at your college lecture about kink. key smash in all caps. quote the passage that made you think. i promise, we’ll love it.
we spend hours thinking about it, writing it, editing it. there is no such thing as over enthusiasm when you’re talking about our fics to us. we are sooooo weird about them, i assure you. you are just matching my freak. the freak bar is already set so high. feel no anxiety about enjoying something and letting the creator know.
Hi Everyone. For those who follow me and have been following me since I created this page. Long time no see you loyal and beautiful people. For the ones that are new to my page welcome.
I'll keep this short and sweet. I am alldopeimagines (she/her) and I created this page in 2014 and wrote stories mainly for celebs (CB, August Alsina, Tyga, Mindless Behavior (lmao ikr)). Although I haven't written any stories on here since like 2016, I still am actively on the app and reblogging awesome imagines I read.
Point of all this is I'm Backkkkk. I have more time and gained back my motivation to write again. Therefore, to get me back in the groove I'll take requests. I mean i'll pretty much write for any character (might have to do some research if I never seen the movie or show they are from). I also write all types. Smut, angst, fluff, gut wrenching heartbreak with no happy ending you name it. So yea.
Hope you enjoy my page and stick around for a while.
Warnings: sex talk, innuendo, suggestive, sarcasm, second hand embarrassment, cursing,
Word Count: 1.9K
Synopsis: Things get rocky whenever your parents come to visit you and Zuko.
Whenever your parents come to visit you and Zuko, there is always either tension between him and your father, or your mother says something so embarrassing it makes you want to sink into the ground. Your father never liked Zuko, or any of your previous male companions, for that matter. It’s not only because of Zuko’s father’s history; he simply never believed any man was worthy of his daughter.
Although Zuko is the Fire Lord, your father does not hold back his opinions or remarks. Luckily, Zuko is very patient and even finds his exchanges with your parents amusing. Otherwise, things could easily go badly.
With that being said, your parents are visiting from your former nation to have dinner with you and Zuko. You anxiously pace around the chambers you share as he sits on the bed with nothing on but a sheet covering his lower half, an image that reminds you all too well of last night’s escapades.
“Darling, I am sure tonight will go smoothly.” He offers a warm smile that would usually ease your mind and make you melt. Not this time.
“Oh yeah? Like all the other times my parents have come to visit?” You deadpan, stopping your pacing to face him.
“Your mom is always lovely.”
“Yeah, because she serenades you with compliments and embarrasses me with her sex talk.”
“Well, I am a handsome man, and the best-looking Fire Lord in the lineage. Can you blame her?”
“Oh, bite me, Lord Zuko.” You roll your eyes and resume pacing.
“Careful, princess,” he says, his voice dropping slightly in a teasing warning. “Don’t make me take you over my knee.”
“Zuko, I’m serious. The issue is my father. Last time he was here, he kept criticizing how you run the palace.”
“Come here.” He pats the empty spot beside him, yout spot. “Come sit.”
You walk over and sit beside him. He pulls you closer until your back rests against his chest, nuzzling into your hair.
“We’ll get through this weekend,” he murmurs, gently rubbing your shoulders. “Everything will be fine. This isn’t the first time your parents have visited, and I have enough restraint to either ignore your father’s remarks or respond in a dignified manner.”
The tension in your shoulders lessens slightly, though your mind still insists this will be an interesting day.
“Dignified?” you raise a brow. While Zuko doesn’t raise his voice or stoop to your father’s level, he does tend to respond with snarky, inappropriate remarks, especially for a Fire Lord.
“Dignified,” he repeats confidently. You don’t need to see his face to know he’s smirking.
“Oh my…” Your shoulders tense again.
The entire morning and early afternoon, you stress about the evening ahead. You review the dinner menu with the cooks, test the food, and help wherever you can. This isn’t unusual. Your hands-on nature is part of why the Fire Nation adores their Fire Lady, but this time, your anxiety is palpable. You’ve likely exhausted the staff with how often you’ve asked them to redo things.
Zuko tries several times to pull you away, eventually giving up after you send him a death glare during table setup.
“My love, I think you’re scaring everyone,” he whispers with a chuckle. “And you still need to get dressed. They’ll be here any minute.”
Your eyes widen as you let out a small shriek. “Oh, you’re right! I’m a monster. I need to apologize to everyone and tell them they did a great job.” You sigh, pressing your hand to your forehead.
“No need, they understand. Just go get dressed. I’ll make sure everything is in order for when your parents arrive.”
You kiss his cheek and rush out, no caring if anyone was watching.
The outfit you had picked out weeks ago is already lying on the chair in front of the vanity. You just need to shower again because you smell like food and covered in sweat from running around.
Quick shower. Quick lotioning your body and getting dressed. Quick doing your hair and no time for much make up. You look in the mirror as you stare at yourself.
"You got this." You say as you make your way back to the private dining room.
As you open the door to the private dining room, you immediately see your parents seated on one side of the table and Zuko on the other.
“Shit,” you mutter under your breath, unsure how long they’ve been there or what's already been said.
Zuko is the first to notice you, an amused expression already on his face. Your parents follow his gaze.
“Y/N!” your mother exclaims, rising quickly to meet you halfway. She pulls you into a tight embrace, nearly squeezing the air out of you.
“Hey, Mom,” you manage, breathless, wrapping your arms around her as you glance at your father for help.
He stands as well, stepping forward. “Alright, honey, don’t take all the love. My turn.”
Your mother releases you—though not before pinching your cheeks—and your father pulls you into a brief hug.
“My pride and joy,” he says before letting go.
You return to the table, where Zuko stands, pulling out your chair.
“You look lovely, Princess,” he says with a smirk.
Zuko isn’t usually one for PDA or pet names, in front of others. As Fire Lord, he maintains a composed and dignified image. But you recognize immediately, this is the beginning of his more… provocative behavior. He enjoys getting under your father’s skin far too much.
You narrow your eyes slightly at him, silently warning him as you sit.
Before Zuko can take his seat, your father speaks.
“Princess? Why not queen? She is your equal, is she not?”
You sigh, but before you can respond, Zuko sits and places a reassuring hand over yours.
“Well, Dad,” he begins, fully aware of how much your father hates being called that, though your mother loves it.
“She is most certainly my queen, my Fire Lady, my wife, and without a doubt, my equal. My better half, I might add,” he says smoothly.
Relief washes over you. That should have been the end of it.
“Though, I’ve never heard Y/N complain when I call her ‘Princess’ during—”
You jab him sharply with your elbow, shooting him a lethal glare.
Your father raises a brow. Your mother gives you a knowing look. Zuko, of course, looks entirely too pleased with himself.
“Why don’t we start dinner?” you interject quickly, forcing a smile. “The cooks and I prepared some of your favorites, along with a few traditional dishes I’d love for you to try.”
“Why are you cooking?” your father asks immediately, eyes narrowing at Zuko. “Are you making my daughter cook when you have plenty of staff?”
Your mother places a hand on his shoulder, trying to stop him, but he ignores her.
“Daddy, it’s not like—”
“Sweetheart, I want to hear from Zuko,” he cuts in.
Before you can react, your mother steps in.
“She’s an adult. If she wants to help in the kitchen, she can. Now, stop it and let’s eat this lovely meal that was prepared for us.”
The table finally settles, though the tension lingers. You all begin eating, and you silently pray the rest of the evening goes smoothly.
“So…” your mother starts.
Here we go.
“How have you both been? The palace looks wonderful.” Your mother adds.
You nearly sigh in relief.
“We’ve been great,” you say. “I’ve been volunteering more, at orphanages, helping the homeless, and I’ve even taken up gardening.” You smile content with yourself.
Ever since becoming the Fire Lady, you've always tried to figure out where you fit in other than with Zuko. In your former nation, you used to help out a lot whenever you could and now that you have unlimited resources you take pride in helping more.
“Speaking of children…” your mother trails off.
Oh no.
“Have you thought about when I’ll be getting grandchildren? I’m not getting any younger.” She says.
You sigh, knowing you walked right into that one.
“You won’t have to wait much longer,” Zuko says calmly. “Soon enough, you’ll have many grandchildren who will adore you.”
You press your lips together, but continue to eat. Every time someone opens their mouth, it brings you closer to the edge of your seat.
“Oh, that’s wonderful!” your mother beams. “How soon? Right now? I can see my grandbabies running around with your charm.”
“Don’t rush him,” your father mutters. “He may not be ready. Spirits know how much work he has to do around this place.”
“Dad,” you warn.
“Actually,” Zuko says casually, “we’re currently in the process of conceiving. Just last night, we—”
You elbow him again, harder this time.
“Just last night we were discussing midwives,” you cut in quickly.
“Oh! I knew you were glowing!” your mother exclaims. “Are you pregnant?”
“Mom. No!”
“Well, how do you know?” She states, “When was the last time you two—”
“MOM!”
“I don’t need to hear this,” your father snaps.
“Well close your ears, I want my grandchild,” she shoots back.
“Did you use the scrolls I gave you?” she continues.
You pause briefly, thrown off before shooting Zuko a look. He’s still eating, barely containing his amusement.
You drop your head into your hand. “Spirits…”
“Scrolls?” Zuko perks up, far too interested now. “What kind of scrolls?”
“On pleasure and conception,” your mother answers proudly.
“Oh, is that right?” he smirks.
“Kill me now,” you mutter.
“If they don’t have children yet,” your father adds, “perhaps the issue lies elsewhere.”
Zuko freezes for only a fraction of a second, many would have missed it but you saw it.
“I assure you, I am not lacking in that department. In fact -" He begins
“Zuko,” you warn.
“I guarantee your daughter is more than satisfied every night and filled to the brim with my -”
“ZUKO!”
“How dare you-” your father starts.
“Am I not her husband?” Zuko counters calmly. “If my capabilities are being questioned, I have every right to clarify on how I leave your daughter leaking with my kids.”
“ZUKO!” you snap again, mortified.
“And for the record,” he continues smoothly, “she’s rarely able to walk the next day.”
“ZUKO!”
Your mother looks delighted that your being active and possible grandchildren coming sooner than later. Your father looks ready to explode.
“Let’s just eat,” you say firmly, glaring at everyone. “We're here for dinner and to catch up about things that are not concerning grandchildren, lacking or non-lacking. Please. No more.”
Surprisingly, silence follows. This night is going exactly how you expected and at the same time not at all. Your father and Zuko never fail to exchange pissing contest every time they see each other.
“Daddy, can you pass the pepper?” you ask after a moment.
Instant regret.
Both Zuko and your father reach for it at the same time.
Your stomach drops.
Zuko’s lips curl into a mischievous smirk.
Your mother raises a brow.
You quickly lean forward and grab it yourself. “Never mind.”
But it’s too late.
“Son,” your father says slowly.
You close your eyes.
“Yes?” Zuko replies.
“She said Daddy. Not Zuko.”
“Mm,” Zuko hums. “I’ve heard it both ways.”
You choke, again. This time coughing hard.
Zuko immediately reaches over, rubbing your back as your father stares in stunned silence.
When you finally recover, you lean toward Zuko and whisper:
“I am going to kill you later.”
His smirk only widens.
To get me back in the groove I'll take requests. I'll pretty much write for any character (might have to do some research if I never seen the movie or show they are from). I also write all types. Smut, angst, fluff, gut wrenching heartbreak with no happy ending you name it. But until then, enjoy my imagines.
Summary: Based on this concept that I posted awhile ago that really took off. I don't know when I developed the intense need to destroy this man, but here we are. I needed to exorcise this from my brain, so...enjoy.
Warnings: Smut!! Should also add that I have never written smut before lol so sorry if it sucks. Vampirsm, blood sucking, oral sex (f!receiving), sub!Remmick, pathetic!Remmic, begging kink, control kink, praise kink, p in v sex, intense power dynamics, pet names, mentions of religion, obsessive behavior, hair pulling, dom!Reader (sort of), torture, burning skin, cutting, knife play, spit play, drool, monsterfucking, treating Remmick like a dog, I really just want to inflict as much pain on him as is humanly possible.
Reblogs, comments, and likes always appreciated! Please reblog if you like what you read; it helps keep writers engaged in fandom spaces and creating cool shit for you!
Special thank you to @spikedfearn for not only being one of the best writers in the Freaks for Remmick community, but also for beta reading this and encouraging me to write it! Please check her stuff out, she's a fantastic writer!
You sat on your porch in the late evening sunlight, sipping your sweet tea and listening to the soft song of the crickets all around you as they settled in for the night. It wouldn’t be long now. He was fairly consistent; true, if he needed to feed, he’d be a little longer. Crawling up to your door, well into the night, covered in drying blood, claws still showing, fangs barely hidden. Other nights, he’d stroll up right after the sun dipped below the horizon, looking like a true gentleman– clean, composed, in control. You couldn’t tell which version of him you would get on any given night. And that was part of what made it so exciting.
It had gone on this way for months. The sun starts to set. He comes to your door. The two of you fool around– sometimes. Other nights, you didn’t fool around so much as…play games. Oh, you knew what he was. No question about that. There was just something so delicious in denying him. Keeping him on your porch like a hungry dog, begging and crawling and clawing to get in. Knowing that, no matter how desperately he whined or how violently he dug his nails into the floorboards, he could not enter without your permission. He hung on your every word, waiting to hear those two little words that beckoned him in, inviting him to worship at your altar. It was deliciously fun, riling him up, tearing through his humanity, before letting him in. But sometimes…sometimes you just let him sit there. All night. Whimpering. Starving. Deranged. Just for fun.
The sun was just starting to kiss the edge of the horizon. You glanced from the setting sun back towards the parting of trees that opened from your long driveway into the clearing around your house. He would be here soon. You could feel it.
The soft sound of creaking wood catches your attention.
You glance at the clock above your kitchen cabinets. 9:47pm. He’s later than you anticipated.
You freeze. Listen. You can hear him shifting his weight from one foot to the other, the boards of your porch sighing underneath him. You hear his breath, soft and sweet, before–
“Sweetheart. Ya there?”
You don’t say anything. He knows you’re inside. Hell, he could smell a human being from miles away. It gives you an idea.
You quietly walk over to your old recliner and silently lower yourself into the chair. On the ground just next to the chair is where you keep your sewing kit. While you were no expert, life in the Delta necessitated a few basic sewing skills. Thorns snagging at your dress, threadbare patches blooming in pieces of clothing passed down through the generations. But tonight, you don’t reach for any thread– just a needle. You can still hear Remmick breathing just outside your front door, confusedly listening to you move around inside. You take the sewing needle and quickly, painlessly, jab it into your left index finger. Outside, you hear his breath catch in his throat, a sound like he was being strangled.
Wordlessly, you creep towards the door. You wrap your hand around the doorknob, twist, and pull. He’s standing there, as if he had just had his forehead pressed to the door. Eyes wild, fangs barely peeking out from behind his lips. Those lips twist into a stupid, happy grin.
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
“Just, uh, come ‘round to see ya.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Sorry, didn’t hear ya. I seem to have made a little bit of a mess.”
You hold your finger up in the tiny space there is between you. It’s beaded with blood, the tiniest bit starting to drip down the side of your finger.
“Oh, uh,” he stutters, eyes now transfixed on your wound. “I could…help ya, y’know…clean that up.”
He’s staring at the blood inching its way down your finger. You’re staring at his eyes, pupils blown huge, black and gaping. You’ve got him.
“Oh, no, that’s okay. I wouldn’t want to make ya clean up after me.”
Slowly, deliberately, you lift your finger to your mouth. You lick up the stripe of blood running down the length of your finger before taking your fingertip in your mouth, sucking lightly. His face twists with pain, like he’s just been kicked in the stomach. You gently release your finger, examining the tiny injury, no longer dripping red.
“All better,” you smile wickedly. Your heart is already thumping hard in your chest. You’re certain he can hear it– it’s the one secret you wish you could keep from him. Telling him how badly you want him, even as you torture him, sweet and slow.
“Let me in, sugar.” And so it begins. Your favorite game. “Let me in, please?”
“I don’t know…townsfolk always whisperin’ about somethin’ out there in the dark. Somethin’ evil.”
“Oh yeah? Why don’t you let me in, I’ll show you how evil I can be.”
The grin returns to his face, but you can tell it takes effort this time. His hair is damp, sticking to his temples with sweat. He’s clean of blood, so you know he hasn’t fed tonight. But he’s covered in sweat and dirt, the gentle kiss of the Mississippi heat.
“I don’t know…” you tease. Blood starts to swell from the prick in your finger again. You gently rest your hand on the doorframe, noting the way his cocky grin fades as his eyes follow your hand.
“C’mon, baby, let me in. Let me be good to you,” he murmurs, his composure hanging on by a thread.
Wordlessly, you take a step back into your house and grab hold of the door. You go to shut it before–
“Wait.”
Slowly, he sinks to his knees, your porch groaning underneath his weight.
“Please, I don’t want to play like this tonight, baby. Please.”
His eyes stare up at you, still huge, still black. Not a trace of his usual blue left. But no hint of that reflective red yet, either. Hm.
You slowly lower yourself to your knees, eye level with him, never breaking eye contact. His breathing comes in quick, ragged breaths. You lean back, slowly sitting on the floor, right in front of the threshold. The invisible line keeping him away from you, like an electric fence, sizzles under the weight of his want. You raise your left foot to the doorframe, sending your nightgown down towards your hips. Your right knee is crossed in front of you, the last obstacle between the two of you. His hands fly to the outside of the doorframe, connecting with such force that you feel the shock wave travel through your foot and up the length of your leg.
“Play? Who’s playin’?” you drawl, with a sweetness that you know only intoxicates him more. You notice a bead of drool at the corner of his mouth.
“C’mon, sugar, lemme– let me in now, please.” He stumbles over his words. Fucking pathetic.
“You want to come in?”
He’s almost shaking. He nods his head slowly, eyes never leaving your center, as if he could make you move your leg just by focusing hard enough. A wicked idea flashes through your brain. As if sensing it, his inquisitive, almost fearful, eyes dart up to meet yours. You smile slowly, baring your teeth to him as you sink back onto your elbows. You drop your head back, exposing your neck to the incoming cool of the night air. He’s breathing through his mouth, raw and ragged, as if he can’t get enough oxygen into his lungs.
“Pl-please…please…” The word almost sounds like a prayer on his tongue, something uttered over and over, falling on deaf ears.
You let yourself sink so you’re lying completely on the floor. You move your right knee, torturously slow, until you’re entirely exposed to him. You hear a sound, a strangled choking sound, like an animal caught in a trap. Slowly, you bring your hand down between your legs.
“No, no, please, baby, please, let me in, I’ll be so good to you, please, don’t do this, don’t–” his begging is cut off by the gentle sigh that escapes you, and the tortured cry that rises from him in turn. You drag your fingers between your folds while he writhes on the ground, just inches from you. His hands snap from the doorframe to the ground with a loud crack. His forehead kisses the ground as if he’s a sinner begging for forgiveness. You just smile.
You delicately toy with yourself, just out of his grasp. Your eyes roll back in your head as your fingers rub your clit. And the whole time, he’s crying for you.
“PLEASE, baby, I can’t take it no more. Please let me in,” he begs, face still connected to the floor. He sounds wounded, as if you shot him. The raw need in his voice just fuels your fire. You quicken your movements, working towards your release. Your moans, quick and breathy, sting in his ears.
“You want to come in here?” you coo quietly. Affectionate. As if you’re considering it.
He lifts his head to look at you. There’s a string of drool connecting his lips to a small puddle on the porch. He looks like a wreck. Sweat, dirt, heat, drool, desire. Sickening. Delicious.
His eyes gleam red in the darkness.
“Yes,” he rasps. “Yes, please.”
He sounds like a man who’s crawled on hands and knees through the desert, only to be met with a mirage. You grin. His fangs are protruding, like they’re too big in his mouth. His claws are out, and you can see the scratches he’s made on the porch, like a dog locked in a room trying to dig its way under the door. Seeing him like this, undone. A monster, a killer, completely at your mercy.
You drop your head back again as you finish. Your ecstasy washes over you in waves. A choked moan escapes him– half desire, half agony. When you finally come back down, you sit up slowly in the doorway. He doesn’t have any more words. He just sits, stares, pants. You bring your fingers, still wet with your slick, to rest gently on the inside of the doorframe. He presses his cheek against the outside, that invisible line keeping him back by barely a centimeter. His tongue gently grazes over his fangs, his eyes locked on your fingers.
“Please, darlin’, let me clean ya up. Please, I’ll, I’ll be gentle. No teeth. I’ll be good. I promise.”
“You’re pathetic, Remmick.”
Finally hearing your name from his lips, he groans, eyes screwed shut, in that limbo between torture and pleasure.
“I know,” he sighs. “Fuck, I know. Just…please, I gotta taste ya. Please. Just this, just your fingers, just one taste. You’re killin’ me sweetheart, please.”
You almost pity him. You would pity him, you think, if it wasn’t so divine seeing him beg.
You push yourself up to your knees, eye level with him once more, your noses almost touching. The invisible line. The electric fence.
“Goodnight, Remmick.” Your breath blows gentle and sweet and cruel across his face. His features contort in torment as you bring yourself to your feet.
“No, no, please, sugar, please don’t lea–”
Click. You cut him off as you close the door. You cross the floor towards your bedroom, tired and still a little wound up. You swear you can hear him gently sobbing as you tangle in the cotton sheets.
Beautiful sunset.
The oranges, yellows, reds and pinks, all mixing together as if on a painter’s palette. It’s one of your favorite things about living outside of town: this view. Nothing for miles. Just the woods, the creek, the sun, hell, you didn’t even mind the critters. Raccoons, possums, foxes, deer…but your favorite one walks on two legs and whispers your name like it could save him.
You take another sip of your sweet tea when you hear a twig snap off in the growing darkness between the trees. You grin to yourself. He had a tendency to do that. If he showed up late and you decided to torture him, he would be at your door the next day the second the sun disappeared from the sky. Like he was atoning. Like you’d forgive him for making you wait. Putting on a show now, you lift the cool glass up to your temple. The cold condensation dissolves across your skin, bringing at least a little relief in the Mississippi heat. You move the glass down to your neck, letting the ice cold water drip down your neck to the space between your breasts. The woods fall silent. Unnaturally silent, like every living thing has vanished from the dense forest that surrounds your house.
You glance back towards the setting sun. You stand and cross back into the house, letting the screen door slam behind you.
There’s a gentle knock at the door. 8:24pm. That’s more like it.
You don’t move. Don’t even breathe. The knock comes again. You hear him under his breath:
“Shit.”
You can’t help the grin that creeps across your face.
“Baby. It’s me. Let me in?”
He shifts from one foot to the other, the porch creaking under him. He sighs, antsy and frustrated.
“Please, darlin’. Don’t make me keep doin’ this.”
The pain in his voice makes your insides melt. You slink over to the door and gently pull it open.
“Make you do what?”
He’s neat, composed. Light blue button up tucked neatly into his trousers. Suspenders taught over his shoulders. Gold chain barely visible at his throat. No trace of the inhuman mess he was last night. At least, not in his clothes. Not in his body. But the suffering in his eyes tells you everything.
His voice is barely above a whisper.
“Please don’t make me beg.”
“Fine,” you sigh playfully. “I won’t make you.” He’s eyeing the grin on your face.
“But you will anyway,” you whisper, your cruelty crackling through the space between you. “You’ll beg and cry and drool like the filthy animal you are.”
Instantly, he falls to his knees, groaning. He looks up at you through those long eyelashes. You can already see the outline of his cock pressing against his trousers.
“Please, darlin’, I’ll do anything you ask–”
“You will?” you cut him off sharply.
He nods his head with such ferocity you’re almost worried he’ll pull something in his neck. Suddenly, you find a new way to play the game.
“Yes ma’am, anything you ask, just say the word and–”
“Take your suspenders down.”
He reaches up to his right shoulder and gently, slowly, pulls the strap off his shoulder, letting it fall to the floor at his side. He does the same with the left.
“Good. Unbutton your shirt.” Your commanding surprises even you. You’ve never played with him like this before, but something about it lights you aflame. Seeing him do everything you instruct, with the reverence of a dog obeying its master. He fumbles with the top button, despite his claws still being sheathed for now. Just the shape of his hands, his once-human-hands, shaking at the buttons, shaking from need.
His shirt unbuttoned, you stare at him, looking him up and down, while his eyes bore into your skull. When your eyes fall back to his, you can see the question in them. He’s asking you, silently: please?
“Tell me what you want.”
He leans forward, bracing himself on all fours.
“Please, baby, let me in. Just wanna come inside, be with ya, feel ya, anything you want, please.” He presses his forehead to the floorboards, reverent.
“No. Tell me what you want to do.”
“Wanna…” he’s struggling to catch his breath. “Wanna lick that pussy so good you’ll lose your voice. Drink every drop of ya. Wanna feel that pussy, so tight, so warm, on my cock, over and over again, all night, give you so many orgasms you lose count, forget your name…please, sugar. Wanna make you mine. Wanna be yours.”
He slowly raises his head to look up at you. He looks like a fucking mess, eyes almost entirely black, sweat and dirt caking his face. There’s thick ropes of drool dripping down his chin, collecting in a dark puddle on your porch.
“What’s that?” you ask harshly.
“Oh, I–”
“Lick it up.”
He stares up at you for a second, uncertain. Finally, he lowers his head to the porch in front of him. He holds your gaze as he sticks his tongue out and slowly laps up his drool.
“Good boy.”
He presses his eyes closed involuntarily, humming in pleasure at the praise.
You smile.
“Come…”
His eyes snap open, all attention on you. His breath hitches in his throat. The sound almost makes you laugh.
“...here.”
His eyes flutter closed and the breath falls out of him, his hope immediately extinguished. Still, he crawls, on his knees, as close as he can to the threshold. You dart your hand out as quickly as you can, giving him no time to react. You snatch his gold chain under one finger and pull it towards you, as close as the laws of…what? Physics? God? The Devil? Whatever force kept that electric fence up. You pull him as close as he could possibly be without being shocked. Your finger and the chain on one side of the fence, the tight skin of his throat on the other.
He gasps, a divine cocktail of shock and desperation.
“You want to come inside?” you tease. He nods again. “Words,” you spit sharply.
“YES. Yes, ma’am, please.” He's starting to sweat, little beads of moisture dotting his forehead. “Just wanna please you. Please. Let me taste you, darlin’, I promise, I can make it so good for you, just let me–”
You give his chain a sharp tug to shut him up. He cries out.
“I don’t let animals into my house, Remmick.”
He drops his head. You feel something wet drip onto your finger. A teardrop falls from his eye to your hand.
“Please.” He shivers, voice almost completely inaudible. The volume reserved for sinners talking directly to their god. “I’ll be good.”
“My, my, my…sweat, drool, and now tears? You’d make a mess all over my floors.” You drop his chain and slowly start to wrap your hand around his throat. His head shoots back and his eyes roll into the back of his head with a moan so vile and animalistic you silently thank whatever God there might be that your closest neighbors live miles away.
You smile. As your fingers close around his throat, he hisses and pulls away. He stares up at you, hurt. The burn on his neck sizzles softly in the damp night air. His gaze darts to your hand.
“Oh, you are evil, ain’tcha? Sweet little girl like you, thought ya had e’rybody fooled.”
“What? You don’t like ‘em?” You coyly show him your hand, fingers adorned with silver rings.
“Fuck, sweetie.” He’s rubbing at his neck, now almost entirely healed. The tiny amount of silver in your rings isn’t enough to do much damage, you know– just enough to get his attention. “You tryna kill me?”
“Maybe,” you coo softly, the sweetness evaporating any lingering trace of his shock.
“Please, baby, let me in. Let me fuck ya proper. Like you deserve. Please. Wanna see those thighs around my head, over my shoulders, fuck, wanna see–wanna see you…” His eyes flutter closed again, like even the image he was conjuring in his head would be enough to make him cum right there.
“Tell me.” Your tone is even. Not mean, not kind. Part of you wants to hear him out.
He leans back on his haunches, his face is wet with sweat and tears.
“I’d take you right here on the floor. Bury my face between your legs. Make you cum more times ‘n you can count and thank you for each one, fuck, whatever you want, I’d do it all night. Then I’d come crawlin’ back tomorrow night, beggin’ you to let me do it all over again. Please, sugar, just say it. Just let me in. Can’t stand these fuckin’ games no more.”
“You know,” you say, crouching down in front of him, still behind the door frame, “when I first moved in here, e’rybody told me about the big bad monster lurkin’ in the woods.”
His eyes meet yours then, huge, sad, pathetic. You can still see a hint of the iris, just barely, the tiniest ring of blue surrounding the endless black of his pupils.
“They said it only came out at night, and the only way to protect yourself was to stay inside. Garlic. Silver. Sunlight. A stake–” you press your palm flat against his chest, feeling his heart thunder beneath his ribs “--right to the heart.”
His eyes roll back and he moans, obscene and filthy and desperate. Before he can think to snatch your wrist and yank you out onto the porch with him, you pull your hand back behind the threshold. You rise to your feet, standing over him.
“And now here he is, the Big Bad Wolf, on his knees, slobbering at my door like a dog. Ain’t that somethin’?”
He stares up at you, almost like he knows what comes next.
“Please,” he whispers, pitiful. You smile wide.
“Goodnight, Remmick.”
Click.
The next night, he doesn’t even bother knocking. Doesn’t bother announcing himself. He just sits, cross-legged, on your porch, staring up at your door as if he could will it open with his mind. What he doesn’t know is that you’re sitting just on the other side of the door, a mirror image of his desperation. You don’t know how long you sit like that. Silent, just listening to the soft sound of the cricket song and his gentle, even breathing behind the door. Finally, you give in. You reach up and twist the knob, torturously slow. The door creaks open.
“Hey sugar.”
He looks rough. Not to the untrained eye, of course; his shirt is clean, tucked in, his hair fairly neat, even his boots look pretty clean. But you see deeper than that. The slightly sunken look around his eyes that tells you he hasn’t fed in days. The subtle hollowness that carves out his cheekbones, collarbone, even settles around his knuckles, when he’s gone too long without blood. The hungry glint in his eyes that he can’t help, like an animal looking for its next kill.
“You look like shit.”
“Aw hell, come on now, cut a fella some slack. I tried my best for ya, sweetheart.” His voice sounds the way his clothes look–a façade, a too-perfect, lighthearted sound, disguising something darker underneath.
“When was the last time ya fed?”
His eyes drop to the floorboards below him.
“Remmick. Look at me.”
His eyes shoot up to meet yours, that hungry look winning out above the pretenses. His voice drops, too, into something dark and sickly sweet.
“Five days ago.”
“Then what the hell ya doin’ here?” Your voice, barbed and venomous, cuts straight to his heart. “Go find ya some poor bastard to drain ‘stead of wastin’ my time.”
“I can’t, baby. Can’t do nothin’ else. I walk in circles all night, and I keep endin’ up down this road, endin’ up here. Please, sugar, all I’m askin’ for is–”
You let your head roll to one side, pulling the skin of your neck tight over your veins. His sentence stops in his throat as he watches you, swallowing thickly. His eyes have the dull, hypnotized look of hyperfixation as he stares at your neck.
“All you’re askin’ for is…what?”
“Please. Let me in.” His voice is low, but not quiet.
“Why should I?” You drawl, knowing he’s hanging onto your every word.
“I’ll be anything ya want me to be, please. I’ll be so good to you. I’ll be wicked. I’ll–”
His words catch in his throat again as you, on all fours, crawl closer towards the door.
“Y’know, I went to church this mornin’,” you tease. “Preacher said somethin’ interesting. He said…you dance with the devil…one day, he’ll follow ya home.”
Remmick’s breath, coming in short, ragged gasps, inches from your face, was the only sound flooding your senses.
“That what you are, pretty boy? You the devil?”
His eyes dart down to your mouth and back up to your eyes, his pupils blown huge and black.
“Yes, ma’am.” His voice is half whisper, half confession. “Yes. I am the Devil.”
“That’s what I thought.” You stand slowly, gripping the door frame for support. You leave the door open, but cross the floor into your kitchen, always aware of his eyes on you.
You reach for the smallest paring knife that lives in the knife block sitting atop your counter. His eyes don’t leave you for a second, but now, from the darkness, you see his shiny red pupils reflected back at you. You smile. The Devil at your door, begging to do unholy things to you. At your mercy.
You cross back to the door and stand over him, knife in hand. His hair, sweaty, sticking to his temples, looks almost black in the darkness.
The quiet in the air lingers between the two of you. You want him so badly it aches. You want to torment him, to make him cry again, to stand above him while he worships the ground beneath your feet. Your heart hammers in your chest, and you can feel it thundering in your neck. He notices.
Slowly, you begin to undo the buttons at the lacy neckline of your nightgown. Drool begins to drip down his chin as he stares at you.
“Don’t make a mess all over my porch, now.”
He mindlessly wipes at his chin with the back of his hand, wetting the cuff of his sleeve. Done with the buttons, you drop your nightgown around your ankles. A choked sound gets stuck in his throat. You take a step out of the nightgown, kicking the garment to the side.
“Please, baby. Please, I’m dyin’ out here. I can be anything you want. I’ll follow you around on a leash, goddamn it, just don’t make me sit out here no longer.” His begging hits your ears like a symphony. You bring the knife up to your chest and gently press the tip of it between your breasts.
He whines like a dying thing. A strangled, agonized sound,that, again, makes you grateful for the secluded location of your house.
You drag the blade down, slicing one clean line between your cleavage, just deep enough to break the skin and draw blood, just enough to sting.
“Preacher said the best way to ward off the devil was to wear a cross,” you say innocently.
You bring the blade back up. You carve one shorter, perpendicular line through the first. A cross. A mark. A brand. Beading with drops of blood, collecting and trickling down your chest, across your stomach, towards your heat.
You don’t know when it happened, but his claws are out now. Long, caked in dirt, and scratching at the boards of your porch like a bad dog. The sound of the wood shredding under his claws makes you grin, sweet and sadistic. He pulls his head up, like just the effort of that simple movement is enough to drain all the life out of him. He braces himself with his hands on the doorframe. His eyes glow red, tears pricking at the corners. His fangs poke out of his mouth, sharp and wet with saliva. Drool slicks his chin and foams at the corner of his mouth. This is the monster. This is what you wanted.
Then, quietly, so quietly you almost think your mind might be inventing it, he whispers:
“Please, mo chuisle. Let me in.”
You sink slowly to your knees in front of him. He’s not looking into your eyes anymore. He’s staring at your blood, red, hot, and wet, dripping freely just inches from his mouth.
“Tell me what you want.”
“Want you to let me in, please–”
“No. That’s what you want to happen. What do you want?”
“You. I want you.” His voice is ragged. Broken. Like he’s been screaming at the top of his lungs for his whole life. “Please, please, I don’t know any other way to ask, to beg, to scream, to cry for you sugar, please–”
You cut him off when you press your hands to the door frame, just on the other side of where his are. You’re palm to palm, almost, in this half-formed way, dancing along the electric fence. You bring your forehead to the invisible line, so you’re face to face with him, taking in the sight of him unravelled before you.
“You want me?” you whisper cruelly.
“Yes,” he says through shaking breaths.
“Come get me, then.”
It’s all he needs. His hands fly to your waist as he topples you over. He presses his tongue to the blood that’s dripped down to your stomach, working his way up to your chest. When he reaches the incision, he sucks and laps at the cut. At the spot where the two cuts meet, the center of the cross, he presses a kiss, soft and gentle to your sternum. It makes you gasp.
“Gonna treat you so good, darlin’. Gonna make you forget your own fuckin’ name,” he rasps against your chest. You rake your nails across his back, careful not to let yourself touch him too much–not yet.
When he’s done sucking the blood from your chest, he begins to leave a trail of kisses back down your stomach. Sitting back on his knees, he grabs your thighs and traces his claws across the flesh, making you shiver. He hoists your legs just enough to nestle himself in between them, pressing a gentle kiss to the inside of your left knee.
“Dreamed of this every night, every fuckin’ night, you slammin’ that door in my face. Kept dreaming of this. Of you.” He works his way up the inside of your thigh, kissing and licking your skin. “Taste so fuckin’ good.”
“If you think that’s good, I got somethin’ I think you’re really gonna enjoy,” you drawl, deliberately grinding your hips upwards in a small circle, catching his attention.
He growls. Like a fucking animal standing over its kill. It almost makes you sob. The pure, electric feeling of his desire.
He licks one slow stripe up your center, making you cry out.
“Sweet girl. You think you were the only one playin’? I could smell you every night, every night you shut that door in my face. Could smell this sweet little pussy cryin’ for me.”
His grip on your legs tightens as he picks up the pace. Lapping and kissing at your core, he devours you like you’re water in the desert. What was that saying? Something about well-fed sinners and famished saints?
He presses one thumb to your clit and your head begins to spin. The only sounds in the heavy air are the crickets, your gasps, and the obscene noises coming from where the two of you are connected. He slowly rubs circles on your clit, not even coming up for breath as he does. Your fingers tangle in his dark curls. He hits a particularly sensitive spot and you jerk him back by his hair.
“Ah, ah, easy, sugar. Not gonna hurt ya. Not unless ya ask real nice.” The smile he gives you is enough to nearly send you over the edge. Your drying blood at the corner of his lips. His fangs covered in your slick. His chin wet with– well, it was impossible now to tell where his drool ended and your juices began. You shove his head back down with a huff and he just chuckles, attaching himself to your cunt once more. When he opens his mouth, you can feel the tips of his fangs ghost over your clit, over and over, as he devours you.
Electricity lights up your entire body, starting in your core and sizzling through your limbs. You grip his hair as if it’s the only thing tethering you to Earth. Your legs twitch around his head, and Remmick? He just continues lapping you up, desperate, as if you might kick him back out onto the porch the second your orgasm passes.
When your breathing finally returns to normal, he’s over you, his hands on either side of your head, his chain dangling in your face.
“How was that? Was it good?”
You stare up into his face, so desperate to please you. His eyes are wild, his chin still wet.
“So good. Such a good boy for me,” you coo, melting him instantly. He hums in pleasure. You bring your hands back to his hair, and he leans into your touch, letting you play with his sweaty locks. You scratch behind his ear and his head drops in ecstasy. You trace a finger over the top button of his shirt.
“Ain’t you hot? All these clothes on…?”
He growls again, animalistic and raw. He sits up and rips his suspenders from his shoulders, letting them hang down around his sides in that way he knows you like. He goes to unbutton his shirt, but his claws make the dexterous movement impossible. You sit up, still under him. Gently, you place your fingers over his. You trace the length of one of his claws with your fingertip gingerly. He rests his forehead against yours, sweat mixing on your skin, your breath hot and mingling between you two as you delicately undo the buttons on his shirt.
“The Devil ever had anyone be gentle with him?” you whisper, almost afraid to break the silence.
“No,” he whispers.
You tug the shirt from his shoulders. He finishes the job and tosses it aside. He grabs at his tank top, torn and already soaked with sweat, and adds it to the pile of clothes that will, hopefully, go neglected until morning. His chest heaves with every labored breath, the gold chain glinting and reflecting in the moonlight. You rake your nails down his chest, making him drop his head back again. He groans again, loud, lewd, and lustful.
A grin creeps across your face. When your fingers reach his waistband, you flatten your palms against his stomach and drag them back up towards his chest, pressing firmly against the taut skin, slick with sweat.
“FUCK, baby, shit!”
He curses and snaps his head forward. When he does, you grab his jaw between your fingertips and hold him still, forcing him to look at you. The skin on his chest sizzles quietly.
“You’re a little fuckin’ sadist, ain’tcha?” he spits, somewhere between furious and turned on. You press the silver ring on your finger to his jaw in response. He hisses and bares his fangs before you shove his face to the side.
“Fuck. Fuck, sugar, I–” he breathes, still recovering. You stare down at the burns that are streaked down his chest, your hunger growing. You want to run your tongue over the burned skin.
“Let me…let me feel you darlin’. Please,” he gasps. It makes you smile. He’s still begging.
“Didn’t realize you needed permission to enter down there, too,” you tease. He doesn’t waste any more time. His hands fly to his trousers, undoing the button and zip as you lie back. You see him then, long and hard and already weeping for you. The feeling of him lining himself up makes your breath catch in your throat.
He pushes in gently, like he’s still asking permission for every inch of closeness. When he’s finally inside, his eyes, red and gleaming, roll back into his head.
“Ah–ahh, feel so fuckin’ good sugar. Feel like you were made for me.”
“Ya gonna gab all night or ya gonna fuck me like you promised?”
He laughs, the vibrations sinking in all the way to your bones, as he begins to move.
“Gonna make you cum so many times you lose count. Gonna fuck you so good you’ll be stumbling for days.”
And fuck, you think he might be right. He’s stretching you, hitting deeper than he ever has before, hitting a spot that’s making your cheeks flush and your head spin. Pleasure builds in your center as you reach up for him.
“Ah, ah. Keep those hands to yourself, pretty girl,” he scolds. You chuckle.
“Afraid of a little silver?” you coax.
He stills inside of you. You whimper, frustrated.
“That’s what I thought. Keep those hands to yourself and that pretty little mouth in line, and I’ll fuck ya like the good girl you are,” he promises. You groan under him, but whether it’s from pleasure or defeat, even you don’t know.
He resumes his pace, relentlessly ramming into you. You turn your head to the side. You see his right hand, bracing against the floor next to your head. You stick your tongue out and lick one clean stripe from his wrist up his forearm, as far as you can reach. He moans above you.
“Fuck, ‘s what I’m talkin’ ‘bout sugar,” he croons. “So good to me.”
He leans down over you until his forehead is pressed against your collarbone.
“Let me taste you, darlin’, please. Haven’t fed in days, let me be full, let me have you, please…” He pulls back just enough so you can feel his hot breath on your neck, desperate. “I’ll be gentle, I promise, won’t bite too hard. Please.”
Before you can speak, he leans into your neck.
“Remmick–”
He recoils from you as quickly as if he was bit by a snake.
“FUCK!”
You can see the burn searing on his chin in the shape of a cross. He looks down at your neck to see the only thing you’re wearing– a silver cross on a silver chain. You smile up at him wickedly.
“I guess there’s somethin’ to be said about askin’ permission, huh?” you whisper. His glare looks like he’s contemplating ripping your throat out with his teeth.
“You really want me dead, huh?” he asks hotly.
“Maybe just a little bit,” you retort through a devilish grin.
Then, his gaze softens. He looks down at the necklace and back at you.
“Will you take it off?” he asks weakly. “Please. Wanna taste you…please?”
You reach up and grab the cross, playing with it daintily between your fingers. His eyes follow your every move. You could toy with him like this forever. Finally, you firmly grip the cross and tug. The chain snaps behind your head, and you toss the silver aside. You smile up at him.
He sighs, a sound of pure bliss, and falls back down to your chest, resuming his rhythm one more time. His breath is hot in the crook of your neck. You feel his fangs ghosting over your throat, his lips brushing against your pulse point. Then, something wet and dripping. He’s drooling all over you, thin, warm, wet ropes of his spit dribbling onto your neck. You tangle your fingers in his hair and yank him back so you can see his face.
The creature looking back at you barely looks human. His eyes, wide and red, darkness lurking behind them. His fangs, spilling out of his mouth as if they’re too big for his jaw. Drool all over his chin.
“What?” he growls, frustrated from being interrupted.
“Just wanna see you like this,” you whisper.
“Like what?”
“Like the goddamn animal you are. Like the desperate, whiny, pathetic creature that keeps comin’ to my door. Like the Devil that’s lovin’ me so good it’s sendin’ me to Hell.”
It sends him over the edge. He snarls and bites down on your neck, hard. He thrusts up into you with similar ferocity. The pain, the pleasure, all building in you, sending heat through your body. He reaches down with one hand and drags the tip of one claw across your clit. You’re seeing stars.
“Oh God–” you moan, your orgasm rocking through you.
“No God here, darlin’, ‘member?” he teases, darkness in his voice. “Just the Devil, fillin’ you up this good.”
You have no idea how much blood he drains from you. Enough to make you lightheaded, even as you come down from your high. He follows you soon after, detaching from your neck and rutting into you, chasing his own release. You feel it a second later, hot spurts of warmth shooting inside of you. You claw at his back, anchoring your nails into his flesh, certain that he’ll have marks there for at least a few days, accelerated healing be damned. You can feel him go soft inside of you, but he doesn’t pull out. He stays there, above you, panting, eyes still wild, chin dripping with your blood. A drop falls from his fangs to your chest. He leans down, still holding eye contact, and slowly, obscenely, presses his tongue to your skin, licking it up, making you shudder.
“Thank you,” he whispers, face buried in your chest. “Taste so good when you’re cummin’, heart fuckin’ beatin’ for me, pussy hangin’ onto me, fuck, baby, thank you, thank you…”
You hum in response. He picks his head up, looking at you desperately.
“Was that good? Was I good?” he asks, still craving your approval. You laugh, your hands flying up to cover your face. He stares down at the silver rings still decorating your fingers. You reach for his face and he instinctively pulls back.
“Oh,” you say gently. As much as you love torturing him, all you want right now is to touch him, sweet and soft. “You want me to take these off?”
He nods wordlessly, eyes huge, looking like a wounded thing.
“Why don’t you take them off?” you coo. “Those teeth oughta be good for more’n just this.” Your fingers graze over the bite on your neck. It’s oddly smaller than you expected.
You raise one finger. Slowly, he opens his jaw and takes your finger in his mouth, careful not to graze the metal. He bites down, his fangs gripping your ring, and pulls your hand back by the wrist, gently working the ring off your finger. When it’s completely free, he turns and spits, sending the silver clattering across the floor. He does this a second time, and a third, until you can feel him start to get hard inside of you again. You smile up at him.
“Good boy,” you praise as he works on the fourth ring. His eyes gently flutter shut.
When he’s successfully removed all the silver from your body, you grab his face between your hands. Your foreheads pressed together, breath leaving his mouth and entering yours. You press a kiss to his mouth, wet and sloppy, tasting yourself all over him– the sweet, coppery taste of slick and blood. His hands ghost all over you, as if he’s trying to memorize your body so he can reconstruct it the next time you shut him out.
He starts to move again, gripping your hips and pressing into you. He takes your hand and places it over your lower stomach, pressing gently.
“Feel me? Right here? Fuckin’ tight, fuckin’ sweet, fuck sweetheart, you have no idea what you do to me.” His voice is dripping with lust and something else, something like gratitude.
You feel him hitting you slow and steady and deep, and the sinful sound of him fucking his own cum deeper into your pussy makes you feel faint.
“Please don’t make me go. I’ll stay here, I’ll be your dog, your animal, walk me around on a leash, leave my water in a bowl on the floor, please, I’ll do whatever you want. Just don’t make me leave, sugar. Can’t stand it, please.” He sounds close to tears. Your eyes glance up to his face, contorted somewhere between pleasure and agony.
“Remmick,” you say, forcing his eyes open, making him look at you. “You gonna keep grovelling, or ya gonna fuck me like ya mean it?”
A wicked grin illuminates his face. He picks up his rhythm. You have a feeling your back is going to be giving you hell for a little while.
You wake in the morning, and there he is. You don’t remember how late it was when you both finally tumbled into the bed. He looks peaceful. You’re struck with something– not sympathy, not pity, something else. A feeling, deep in your chest, seeing him lying there. Looking…human.
You roll over and check the alarm clock on your nightstand. 1:37pm. Damn. Well, you suppose, to be expected after a long night. The curtains are drawn in your bedroom. On instinct, you swing your feet down to the floor, pull your robe around you, and cross to the window to open them. You grab the two pieces of fabric and pause.
The only thing between him and sudden death. You. The only thing keeping him from frying alive. You. The only thing taking enough pity on him to let him keep sleeping. You.
You cross out of the room and shut the door quietly, sealing in the darkness. In the kitchen, you pour yourself a glass of water and gulp it down. You prepare your coffee, filling the old iron pot with water and setting it on the stove. You turn the heat on as you wander across the room, opening the curtains at each window, letting daylight stream into the room. It’s like something from a postcard, you think, the warm afternoon sun, the gentle underscore of birdsong, the familiar and comforting smell of fresh coffee. The pot whistles on the stove and you take it off the heat, pouring yourself a cup. You hear a stirring from the bedroom. A delicious idea takes root in your mind.
You quietly pad across the floor to the bedroom door. Gingerly, you turn the knob, and throw the door open. Sunlight bathes across the first few feet of the floor, but doesn’t reach the bed.
He screams. Screams with true terror in his voice.
“Mornin’ darlin’!” you crow. “I made coffee, if you want any.”
His eyes, terror-stricken but slowly adjusting to the sudden light, peek up at you from the sheets. It’s odd, seeing him during the day. It’s like two separate pieces of yourself colliding at once. You turn from the door, leaving it open, and jaunt back into the sunlight of the kitchen.
“You gonna stay in bed all day?” you call. When you stick your head back into the bedroom, he’s out of the bed, on all fours, on the floor. He’s as close to the patch of light on the floor as he possibly can be without catching any of it. You chuckle darkly and turn to sit on the couch, in full view of the bedroom door.
You lean back on the couch, coffee steaming from your mug on the coffee table. Your robe falls open just a bit at your chest. You see his eyes, not yet red, but gleaming in the darkness. You let your hand fall between your legs and let your head fall back against the couch, soaking in the afternoon sunlight.
“Please, sugar. No more games.”
Thanks for reading! Check out part two here and part three here. As always, likes, comments, and reblogs highly appreciated!
Kat Graham was mistreated on TVD!!! And it's a fact!! She deserved better!!
I'm sorry(not really), I don't care how much you love other characters, or how much you love Elena, you should not be out here saying 'Kat was treated just fine' and excusing actions of the creators since they gave your fav a good character arc, when it's a literal fact Kat was mistreated and experienced racism by the creators of the show!! She's even stated it herself!!
Racist actions and mistreatment should never be excused, no matter how much you love a character.
dededos
blakekathryn
areudirty
janainaart
snowghoul
