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m-ayo-o · 6 months

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KINKTOBER IV: DRUGGED starring: f!reader, megumi [25+], toji [mid 40s] synopsis: megumi is led down a dark path by his assassin father. his moral compass askew, lacking any real social experience, he's left to his own devices with a cute girl. thankfully, toji shows up in time to take control. warnings: murder, violence, spiking, drug use: narcotics + psychedelics. stripper!reader [who sometimes offers sex work]. virgin!megumi. restraints. choking. unprotected sex. incest [pussy sharing, dp, anal] guidance. non-con; reader starts to enjoy it [she is drugged] wc: 4.5k

⋆⁺/ don't like it? block it / do not interact i do not condone taking drugs. spiking is illegal. this is fiction

18+ EXPLICIT SEX | DARK CONTENT | HORROR THEMES

When Toji’s wife passed he managed to sell off his daughter to the notorious Zenin clan for a pretty penny, but decided to keep the ten shadows boy for himself.

Without his wife, daughter and clan, Toji’s life spiralled out of control and he took Megumi down with him.

Toji left everything behind, so did Megumi.

Toji became invisible, so did Megumi.

He corrupted him and dragged him into a cursed life of killing for money.

Leaving his boy in cheap, dusty hotels, Toji would go out to commit murder– it was as simple as grocery shopping for him, only returning home with his shirt all bloody and ripped. Young Megumi would eye his clothing curiously, his gaze wide and innocent, but would be too scared to utter a word. He knows his father has a terrible temper.

This routine continued until Megumi got older, into his late teens, when Toji thought it would be appropriate to start telling the young man about what he did. Then in his early twenties he started taking him along on his sinister missions, hunting. Lacking any formal education or training, he doubted his son would be of any use.

But Megumi had become intelligent and strong in his solitude, reading for entertainment and experimenting with his powers, his shikigami the only life forms to keep him company.

Despite his independence, having Toji as his only guiding light led the younger man to have a somewhat twisted view on reality, and as far as sound moral judgement goes, he simply does not possess it.

As an assassin, Toji likes a quick kill; clean and efficient, usually with a gun or a knife. He can get paid faster that way, delivering the body swiftly and avoiding any trouble.

But he’s noticed his son taking a liking to finishing his victims more personally.

⁺⋆

Another murderous evening had drawn to a close, their hands stained red once again, when he carelessly took his eyes off his son and their victim.

A young, powerful sorceress who’d seemingly pissed off the wrong crowd. Still, a surprisingly easy target for the assassin in training.

“Megumi, s’time to go,” the older man wipes his knife and cautiously looks along the alleyway.

His son is unresponsive.

Toji gets closer, squinting in the dark to find his hands wrapped around her neck.

She’s still alive, barely, but clinging on nonetheless, fading in and out of consciousness.

“What are you doing? Just– just fucking–”

“Wait”

The younger man’s stern voice halts Toji from slitting her throat.

And he watches his son squeeze the life out of the young woman.

His lips twitch when her eyes roll back. But still, his hand remains over her windpipe, feeling her pulse die when the last breaths escape her body.

“Megumi. We need to go.”

His son finally pulls away, and they become invisible once more.

Despite his grisly methods, not only did Megumi prove useful, but their missions also provided for some much needed father-son bonding time.

So, with his son reaching 25 years old, they got into this gruesome habit together, becoming partners.

Another habit Megumi picked up from the older man was his tendency to visit strip clubs after their kill. They were great places to hide, especially if you knew the owners well enough. And Toji knew each and every member of staff in this place; the managers, the bar staff, the girls.

And he knew a certain pretty little girl very well indeed.

Despite his many visits he never made any inappropriate advances, only paid to watch you dance. Maybe a lap dance every now and again if he was feeling particularly self gratuitous.

You share few words, but seem to have a mutual understanding of one another. You know that he loves watching you, and you’ve come to like his stern demeanour and surprisingly respectful attitude, enjoying his ability to scare off creepy customers. He’s kind of like your personal bodyguard at work. You feel lucky to have met him.

Unlike some of the halfwit scumbags that frequent the club, he’s a real man. From his assertive, deep tones, those muscles, perfect for manhandling little girls like you, and those sharp eyes, staring as if he wants your body as much as you want his.

But you have no idea what he does for work– he almost seems nocturnal.

Then you notice that he starts bringing someone else to the club.

His younger brother? His son? You can’t tell. But you know for certain that they’re related as soon as they step in together– their hair is styled differently, but is the same absolute black. The strobe lighting illuminates different colours in the younger man’s eyes, but they have the same glare. Their faces are a slightly different shape, but they have the same wicked smile.

How could there be two of him? One was already enough.

“Meet my son.”

Oh. He might be the same age as me. You think, studying his features– bags under his eyes, more height than muscle, cheeks slightly sunken.

His exchanges are awkward. He looks uncomfortable.

You offer him a dance, not knowing what else to do. You’re here to work, after all.

Toji pays for a private dance and you walk with his son to a booth, the older man giving him a wink and a devilish smile.

You draw the curtains and pause, looking at the way he’s fidgeting.

“Got a girlfriend?”

“No,” he replies tersely, narrowing his eyes.

You ask if he wants a lap dance, but he’s so hesitant that you just end up sitting next to him and chatting instead.

“So, do you enjoy working here?” he sounds less nervous now he’s gotten to know your name, at least.

“Yeah, nice customers for the most part, but the hours are pretty long.”

“Same with my job– the hours, I mean.”

“You don’t work with the public?”

“Sort of…” he trails off, dark eyes darting over your features.

You notice, despite your clothing revealing most of your body to him, that he’s focusing on your lips more than anything.

“You’re um,” he takes a long pause, dragging his gaze back to your eyes, “very pretty.”

How sweet. Your eyes widen slightly, a smile forming on your lips. You’re not used to sweet.

“Th-thank you.” you can’t help the stuttering– the way he’s looking at you with sudden intensity catches your tongue.

“Shall we–” you reach to open the curtain of the private booth, your arm caught in his strong grip, your body freezing.

“You– you can’t touch me–” does he not know that?

“Sorry” he retracts his hand, fiddling with his fingers.

“You change your mind or something?”

“No, I just wanted to… look at you, for a little longer,” you turn to face him again, “if that’s ok.”

So you nod and sit down.

He has a hungry look in his eyes now– he starts with your face, your eyes, in fact, making incredible, unwavering contact until you can’t take it, your pupils darting away to his amusement. Then he finds your mouth, and the way you’re chewing the inside of your cheek.

Then your neck, where he focuses intently on the slow thrum of your jugular. He licks his lips, making you squirm and wish he would’ve accepted the lap dance.

His gaze darts over the rest of your body and you watch the clock tick over to midnight, signalling fifteen minutes and the end of his private… whatever the fuck this was.

“Time’s up.” You stand and reach for the curtain, feeling his eyes remain over your figure as you step out and waltz back to the changing rooms.

You get off early tonight, having a final smoke with your colleagues when you see a text pop through from Toji. After exchanging numbers months ago, he barely contacts you, only asking where you are if you’re not at your regular shift.

[00:14] Toji

Come over?

You’re surprised he’s asking.

You’re tempted– after all, it is for Toji. You’ve been wanting him to reach out to you, thinking that he would’ve made his move much sooner. Every cell in your body is telling you not to do this, but you ignore the feeling, finding his hotel.

You enter the room– luckily for you, in a slightly nicer establishment than usual– still, one that is filled with the smell of alcohol and cannabis, the TV blaring on some late night gambling channel.

So they sit you down, welcoming you into their little games and bets, offering you hard liquor and joints till you’re tipsy.

After Toji’s multiple visits to your workplace, and seeing you at other clubs with your friends, he knows you’re into all kinds of drugs.

He caught you with white powder under your nose on one occasion, your pupils the size of the fucking moon another night, and with a blunt hanging out your mouth after work one evening.

He’s seen it all. He knows you’re a fiend. So… what’s the harm in pushing you a little further? Surely you can take it.

⁺⋆

Your eyelids are growing heavy, your body slumped on the floor against the coffee table while you stare at the TV in stupor. Their joints were just so packed it's nearly finished you off, and the last few drags tasted kinda funny.

“Can we tie her up now?”

You’re not sure if you heard that right, swivelling in the direction of the voice and blinking in disbelief.

You turn to find Toji with his legs spread wide, slouched back on the sofa where you left him, while the younger man stands holding some kind of cord in his hands.

Your eyes widen, your mind jolting awake when you see the way he pulls and grips it, stepping closer to you. Your body lags.

“Mm” Toji grunts, not taking his eyes off the TV.

Megumi takes this as permission to pull you up and drag you to the bedroom, your legs stumbling after your body, your mind succumbing to panic.

His hand tugs at your wrist, while you’re distracted by something strange in the edges of your vision. It’s subtle to start with, colours fading in where they weren’t before, shadows starting to move.

You try to ignore it, blaming the weed and flickering lights playing tricks on your mind.

You’re pulled from your daze when Megumi jerks your arms roughly, your vision readjusting to find yourself on the bed, your wrists forced to the frame in a tight knot of coarse, black rope.

“Mm– Megumi,” your voice comes out more slurred than you expected, confusion crossing your features, “w-what’re you doin’...”

“What does it look like?” He shoots back, his sharp tone making you recoil.

“I, I don’ know– jus’, w-where’s Toji?”

He watches your eyes dart about, enjoying your fearful expression.

You notice a sinister glint behind his indigo irises, his face looming closer and starting to cloud your vision.

You’re squirming now, pushing yourself up the bed, trying to distance yourself from him. But he keeps coming.

“Stay still…” he stops your motions with a single cool hand closing around your ankle, dark eyes trained on your throat again.

Time stops still when he leans in and places a single, chaste kiss over your neck.

He does it slowly. Gently. As if you’re the only one he’d kiss like this. His silent intensity makes you tremble.

He pulls away with a pleased hum, the feeling of your heartbeat making his lips tingle, his dark mess of hair illuminated with a dull halo.

He’s not too far gone. You could still go back.

“Y-you don’ have to do this,” you stumble, your voice cracking.

“I know,” he presses another kiss over your jaw, becoming ravenous now he can almost smell your fear, “but I want to…”

His voice disappears into the crook of your neck, where he starts sucking and tonguing.

He wants to taste you.

There’s a deep ache inside you now, gripping at your heart and filling your lungs, where it spreads to your throat– to where you can feel his mouth over you.

Nobody has ever kissed you like this before.

The way he sucks and bites is cruel, your body starting to flood with pain. If he does it any harder you’re sure he’s going to taste your blood. He’s going to puncture your neck and let it spill.

“M-megumi– please–” your whispered sobs only urge him on, till he’s dragging his canines over you and sinking them into the soft flesh.

His impassioned movements finally ebb as he switches to tending your marked skin with his tongue and lips, inhaling your scent deeply.

He sits up now, looking longingly into your tear stained eyes, his pupils drifting to where your lips are quivering with his name.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he lies, stroking your ankles gently.

Standing up, he watches you shake your head again, begging him not to go any further and that you’d anticipated being with Toji tonight, asking where he is again.

“He’s a little busy…” he cranes his neck to ensure his father is still transfixed by the TV.

“Plus, you should be grateful,” he tugs off his belt, “you get to take my virginity.”

Your eyes fly wide, your mouth dry and gulping for air stupidly.

Just the way he looks puts you on edge– and now you know he has no experience, you can’t begin to fathom what he’s going to do to you.

“Nn-no– thought, thought Toji w-w–”

His next movements are too swift for your idle, drug induced brain to comprehend.

He’s over you, your arms twisted uncomfortably above your head, his cock nudging at the sweet bud of your clit.

That’s the only ‘foreplay’ you’ll be treated to before he slots himself up against your tight, unprepped entrance, shoving your dress and panties aside.

“Toji!!!” you cry out for the older man, “Toji, god–” but your voice is interrupted, choked by his cock sinking into you, hard and deep.

The man before you has changed, his resting scowl paling in comparison to the now fierce arch of his eyebrows.

Why are you crying for his father when he has everything you need right here?

“Ah– haah—” you shake and squirm, struggling with his untamed, crude thrusting.

Your head flies back when he pushes deeper still, slowly working your raw pussy open to the shape of him, while he watches fresh tears trickling over your waterline and gathering beautifully in the corners of your wide, glassy eyes.

“Hm,” he lets a little laugh escape, enjoying your quiet sobbing and whimpering as he gets rougher and dirtier, grabbing and marking your skin.

Your arms start to jostle and tug in the bindings, your wrists aching from the pressure.

“Untie me…” you sniffle.

“Untie you? But I haven’t even got started yet…”

He wipes the tears from your cheeks with his thumb, trailing his hand down your face and stroking the marks on your neck.

“Might untie you after I hear you scream,” he gives you an experimental squeeze, then leans closer, bringing his face down next to yours.

The way he’s talking has you wondering if he really is a virgin, your thought quickly dispelled by his hedonistic thrusting.

You can hear his shaky breath in your ear now, your legs lifting instinctively when you feel him haphazardly pressing on your g-spot.

“Yeah, open up f’me,” he whispers, sucking on your earlobe, his free arm encircling your head to cage you in closer.

You can feel his hips start to jolt unevenly. He’s close.

“D-don– don’ cum inside,” you beg, your eyes getting bleary as he constricts your windpipe.

You feel him smirking over your skin, speeding up his ragged motions, squeezing.

Your pained breaths consume him, urging him to crush your throat with a look in his eyes that makes you believe he’s going to take your life.

His pale, beautiful face hovers above yours, eyes enrapt by every miniscule expression of terror that passes your features.

“S-s—”

Your voice is gone, you can only fight for breath now, your body succumbing to a helpless fit.

You struggle. Kicking. Hips bucking.

He drinks it all in, thrusting mercilessly now.

“You can’t do that to her.”

You hear a sudden deep, booming voice, hands pulled from your neck, air flooding your lungs as you sputter and cough.

Toji takes his son’s arms and bends them behind his back, restraining him instantly and pulling him off you; out of you.

He lets the sight sink in for a moment, words failing him.

Toji’s affected by the drugs and booze, but he can still get some kind of hold on this fucked up situation.

“Look. Just let me show you… what you’re supposed to do,” he drawls into the younger man’s ear before releasing him.

Sure, he needs to take responsibility. But he can’t let you go. Not yet.

You shake your head again, watching the younger man struggling with his achy, hard boner after being denied his first raw dogging orgasm.

His father readjusts you on the bed to his own liking, leaving you tied up and taking your thighs in his beefy hands. He dips his head low, lips skimming over your neglected clit.

“‘M feelin’ hungry…” he mutters, proceeding to swirl his tongue through your heat, where his son’s cock was digging moments ago, humming while parting your labia and licking sensually at your little jewel.

However done you are with this situation, overcome with lightheadedness from your choking, you’re glad to at least be sent reeling through a few much needed orgasms.

And now you’ve had a chance to breathe and relax a little, you’re becoming aware of a shift in your consciousness.

Your body is right here, in this moment, experiencing every fleeting detail in high definition. But your mind is somewhere else, overcome with a feeling of simultaneous presence and dissociation.

The older man sits up, patting the bed for his son to join him.

“You ok, doll?”

He watches you look around curiously, taking in the room that’s now bending and changing before you.

“Think the lsd’s kickin’ in…” he mutters, “just lay back, promise we’re not gunna hurt ya.”

“The-the what?” you stutter, your hands starting to tense and grip in the restraints.

“Look, there were a few drops of acid in that last wrap, jus’ relax, ok?”

Fuck. You knew you shouldn’t have come here.

You let it sink in, taking a deep breath so you don’t lose your cool. You cannot let your mind spiral on this drug.

“That’s it,” he encourages you, “good girl. Jus’ let go.”

You give up trying to fight it, obeying his gentle tones, working past the nausea to find your mind and body entering a different headspace.

Reality fades in and out, feeling their tongues on you, one after the other, switching and exchanging till you’re unaware of what’s happening to you.

You can only sense their touch, submitting your body to the chemical pleasure.

Your clothes are torn off now, soft, deep words being exchanged until you feel them shifting around.

You feel the unmistakable nudging of a hardened cock at your entrance once more. Only this time, it slips through your folds easily, your slick hole welcoming the long, hard member.

You blink slowly, your vision wobbling as your mind enters a trance in sync with their rhythm.

“Megumi?” no, “Toji?” you honestly can’t tell, your faculties slowly dulling as the powerful drug takes over.

You reach out your arms hoping to discern who’s inside you, only for their body to move away as another frame enters your view.

You feel his cock sink in, hips rolling and stimulating your senses till you’re creaming and moaning around his girth.

“T-tojii–” you’re sure it must be the older man. He feels strong, manhandling you and pushing you wider.

But he pulls away too soon.

You focus hard, seeing both of them now, one figure in front of the other, one man guiding, the other following.

“...like this… take her… deep…” you can only make out a few words, wide eyes distracted by the scar on his lips.

But the way Megumi’s cock slides in is completely different than before– the feral jackhammering transformed into long drags, smooth and hard.

They exchange words, Megumi’s movements getting greedier until you feel his body consuming yours in a display of lust and passion so strong you let out a scream of his name.

The sound of your voice, combined with the grip of your pussy that’s drenched with the slick of a fresh orgasm, rips a groan from his depths.

You hear him panting and moaning, his thrusts getting sloppy, until he’s drawn out of you again.

That was close. You think, realising his father pulled him away before he could spill inside you.

Things are getting blurry now. They’re both over you, on you, in you.

With the surreal visuals taking over, your mind enters another realm while they kiss and fuck and share your body.

Spiky black hair, blue and green eyes flashing, hard muscles and sadistic smiles are all you can see.

Their images burn into your retina, becoming a blurred mirage of nightmarish beauty.

A sight that you will never forget.

Now that Toji’s brought his son up to speed and you’re all wet, you honestly can’t tell who is who.

So you sink into it, enjoying the spiralling visions behind your closed eyelids while they draw waves of orgasmic pleasure from your body.

They bend and move you, pinning your legs back, pushing deeper, then onto your knees. You’re getting so absorbed in the trip now, the euphoric energy taking over, that you’re only partly aware that you’re being lifted.

You’re off the bed, you know that much.

You’re in a pair of strong arms. It’s Toji. You smile, your eyes clearing to see his roguishly handsome face before you.

“Hey pretty girl,” he places tender kisses over your lips, and you accept them with pleasure, “gunna try somethin’ fun now…”

You giggle, liking the sound of that very much.

He holds you, his massive cock melting into your core so deep he’s going to become a part of you, then slides his fingers over your ass.

You feel another body behind you. Megumi.

You turn, feeling his lips over you as well, murmuring sweet praise in your ear the whole while.

You feel him sliding over your ass now, through the wet juice of your pussy, pushing into the tight ring.

“Oh, oh my– fuck–” he edges in, his father thrusting slowly while urging him to be gentle.

“Haahhh–” you breathe out, your head falling back onto Megumi’s hard shoulder where he caresses your skin with his lips.

“That’s– that’s fucking good,” he hums in your ear, pushing himself all the way back while grabbing your ass.

They cradle you, thrusting in tandem, as you reach a new level of bliss.

Hearing them, feeling them takes you higher, until you can only sense their deep moans vibrating through you, the drag of their cocks.

Your thoughts turn slippery, losing focus on the world around you, wondering how you ended up here in the first place, realising that you don’t care.

Right now, you care about the man in front of you, tall and broad, scarred lip between his teeth with dark green eyes fixed on yours.

His ever sombre stare resides behind those fiery irises.

It captivates you.

Your body is convulsing with dopamine once more, slurred thank yous leaving your lips, and all you can concentrate on is counting the shades of green in his eyes.

Flecks of amber shimmer within the emerald, his lashes blinking slowly, eyebrows quirking.

“Watcha lookin’ at?”

“Mm, pretty,” is all you can muster at this time, earning a snort of laughter.

He mutters under his breath and starts taking you harder till you feel him pulling you off his son and pushing you down on the bed.

Your legs spread, wide and obedient, holding yourself by the knees while he takes your nipples between his lips, between his teeth.

“How many times s’that now?” he feels you clenching and bucking again.

You just giggle and sigh, stroking his obsidian strands in a dreamy state.

He hums with pleasure; you feel his nose dipping into your neck, where he places soft, gentle kisses, in contrast to his now animalistic pace.

Letting off hot grunts and moans, he finally spills his hot, wet cum.

He pulls away, his son entering your vision once more.

Angling your ass up, he guides himself in again, enjoying the way your tight muscle spasms around him, but takes him all nonetheless.

His hips get nasty, drawing whimpers from you until he nears his release, growling and sinking his teeth into your marked skin.

“Fuck– fuck–” you tug at his jet black spikes, encouraging him to take all he needs until you feel his hot load shoot deep into you.

“Ugh, oh princess– fuck me–” he sighs, strong muscles overcome with exhaustion as he watches your beautiful features relax once more.

You feel peaceful, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the way his hair hangs over those dark eyes.

Your wavering vision absorbs his graceful figure in all his glory, your mouth opening before your brain catches up.

“Art” you poke at his hardened stomach, earning a slight smile, “artist.” You look up at his father now, appreciating the view as he stands before you.

You giggle, laying back and focusing on the ebb and flow of your breath, feeling your senses leave you, your eyes resting as you enter transcendental sleep.

⁺⋆

You wake to find your body bare, but clean.

There’s no longer white liquid oozing from you– just soft, warm sheets and the fresh smell of soap.

You climb out of the bed, stepping to the bathroom, eyes still half lidded and hazy.

You look in the mirror, finding kaleidoscopic visuals in the reflection, where the glass bends and trembles.

But you can see your face. Unscathed. Unharmed. You look down. It’s just a few bruises. You’re fine.

Despite their questionable methods, this has been a good trip… and you have to admit, a very good fuck.

So in your giddy state, you tiptoe out to the main room, watching their heads turn from the TV, grins emerging.

“Mornin’ honey,” Toji coos. It’s dark outside. You have no idea what time it is.

You step over to the sofa, sinking between the two men again, taking their lips and tongues while their hands roam and fondle your body.

You sit back, enjoying how they’re drawn to you magnetically, allowing their pleasure to fill your body once more while you ride out the most ethereal high of your life.

⋆⁺ [see you in hell]

toji | m.list

#magic.kinktober⋆⁺#kinktober #kinktober 2023 #toji fushiguro #toji fushiguro smut #megumi fushiguro #megumi fushiguro smut #tw: murder #tw: violent death #tw: violence #tw: sex work #tw: inc*st #tw: drugs #tw: dubious consent #tw: dubcon #tw: noncon #tw: sex #tw: sex mention

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wyrm-clangen · 2 months

Text

Fogtail's family has now gained one (1) new generational curse!

Yay?

Prev | Next

#clangen #wyrmclan best clan #fogtail #frozentangle #(deceased)#tw: animal death #tw: blood #tw: murder

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batwynn · 3 months

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Stiles is not managing the hypocrisy well rn.

(Full page over on Patreon)

#stiles stilinski #Sterek #stiles x derek #webcomic #Accidental MerDer #mer!au #tw: blood #tw: murder

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writingforatwistedworld · 1 year

Text

Self-aware au

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, murder, death, poison, possessiveness, obsession, implied manipulation, unhealthy relationship

I do not take any responsibility for you reading this no matter which age group you are from

Entering your world

Returning home one day and finding a character from a game in your supposedly save heaven was definitely not something that was on your “definitely want to experience” list

But here he was, Vil Schoenheit himself… and he was crying the moment he saw your face?

Total confusion. Yeah, I understand.

After him apologizing, his reasoning for crying was being too happy to be in your presence, he explained how he went to sleep and woke up here

Did this remind you of the typical isekai trope? Yes but who were you to complain?

After all, you had a magical model sitting there on your shaggy couch

For the next few days, you expected some other character to pop up or Vil to suddenly undergo a magical girl transformation like they were used so many times in anime but thank goodness that didn’t happen because you weren’t sure if your heart could take any more surprises

Living with Vil was surprisingly relaxing though

It is no secret that Schoenheit is loaded from all his modeling and acting so you expected him to be more or less useless when it was about making himself useful

But would you look at that? He was actually pretty good

So good in fact that you had already dubbed him your househusband and even saved him under that name on your phone after he got his own

Of course, you never said that to him in his face

And for that, I thank you

You see, Vil wouldn’t do this for everyone he met. Oh no. He would probably just throw money at them to pay some sort of rent and then go on with his day

But you were the Overseer! The hecking OVERSEER!!!

When he first saw you, tired eyes and hair that could only be described as being a bird nest looking at him from a long day of work, he could not hold himself back

Tears of joy streamed down his cheek, him thinking that he died and ascended to heaven

Only after you asked him how he got here and offered a place to stay did he finally understand that this wasn’t just some sort of delirium or dream, no he was with you

He nearly started to cry again and his thought process, his head being filled with screams of happiness, must have been a copy of his own fans whenever they saw him

So he took his job as your househusba- *ahem* “roommate” seriously

What he might not even admit to himself was that he didn’t do this just because he thought so highly of you. No. It just meant easy access to your more private areas of your life

Your room was just so nice! Your bed felt like he was laying on clouds and it also smelled like you! Oh, did you save him under “house husband” on your phone? In that moment he squealed

He might even keep some things from you. Nothing too bad. Just a shirt or hoody… maybe he took more than just one

But the Overseer forbid- wait that saying doesn’t work here

But goodness forbid you bring someone into the small bubble of him and you

They don’t even need to do something bad. Vil will just see something that isn’t even there

That one friend of yours? Oh, they threw some disgusting looks in your direction. (They didn’t, he just imagined it)

I would like to remind you that TWST is apparently a place where it’s totally cool to teach teenagers how to make poisons

Yeah, he might not have a lab or certain equipment here but he can work with what he got. Especially since househusbands are always surrounded by chemicals

Suddenly that person is gone. Apparently, they have eaten something wrong but the doctors are just confused about how and why and so much more

The longer he stays the more possessive of your attention he gets

Mention someone and suddenly they also fall sick

And all he did was hand them a homemade meal. People are so picky about what they eat these days…

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revehae · 3 months

Text

indulgence

pairing ↠ killer!johnny × (f) detective reader

genre .. warnings ↠ smut, graphic depictions of murder, graphic depictions of violence, noncon, mentions of pregnancy, johnny is 43

summary ↠ you're an accomplished detective in the detroit area and johnny suh is a prolific serial killer. when your department sends you on its behalf to pull back his layers, you attempt to convince johnny to recount his experiences and unravel the mystery once and for all.

wc ↠ 10.3k

a/n ↠ this is a repost. it is connected to do you like it, dr. lee? but can be read as a standalone story. this fic is somewhat darker than my usual fics and i encourage readers to proceed with caution and heed the warnings; you have been advised.

don’t like it, don’t read.

the deepest prick of unease settled through you and you shuddered from its nipping cold.

killers were your forte, but none like this. never in your life had you ever met a killer who’d been at their craft for over a decade. they typically got sloppy after the first half, which insinuated that this johnny suh guy, whoever he was, was far from an ameteur.

“gate twelve,” came the guard’s voice, speaking into a transmitter. he was to escort you to johnny’s holding room.

the gate lifted. behind it, you clocked the riveting face of detroit’s worst nightmare, hands cuffed at his back as he sat facing you. there was a sort of twisted grin on his face, not as if he was excited to have a visitor, but excited his visitor had been you.

“good luck with this guy. officers tried to get him to budge. he didn’t take the fifth, but the bastard’s damn good at talking in circles,” the guard whispered in your ear.

“duly noted,” you replied quietly, stepping further and taking the seat across from johnny.

the guard left you to your devices, shutting the door behind you and leaving through the passage that led to the gate. complete and total privacy was the only way johnny agreed to talk. your department initially refused, insisting there should at least be one or two other officers monitoring the interview, but you let him have his way.

if you wanted to get this man to talk, that was your only option.

“hello, johnny. i’m detective ___ from the detroit police department,” you introduced yourself coolly, cloaking your nerves with confidence. never would you show a guy like this any fear.

johnny hadn’t stopped grinning since he made eye contact with you. you’d seen pictures at most and he was devilishly handsome, even more so in person, but it didn’t compensate for his unsettling aura. “that’s a beautiful name, detective.”

“flattery will get you nowhere, suh.”

“it’s gotten me here,” johnny quipped.

“yes, it has. and i suppose you already know why i’m here.”

“yes, i do,” johnny said, pleasant thus far. “you want me to tell you about the murders.”

you bobbed your head. “i do. you see, you’re an enigma to me, johnny. you turn yourself in, get fingerprinted, and all of the sudden vicap’s going off because your prints are connected to three other crimes over the past twenty-five years.”

johnny feigned surprise. “wow, it’s been that long?”

“it has,” you replied, in spite of knowing he couldn’t have not been aware. “martina mortes in 1998, sabrina lee in 2005, christine dalton in 2013, and the college professor this year.”

johnny leaned back in his chair. “i’m familiar with those names.”

“you should be. you sexually assaulted and murdered these women,” you spat, none too tender. “except for martina mortes. you only strangled her. do you want to tell me why that it is?”

“what’s the weather like today? i haven’t been outside, but summer has been kind to detroit.”

ignoring him, you persisted, “let me guess. she was your first victim and that kill, unlike the others, was spontaneous. her being dead defeated the purpose of the sex act, didn’t it?”

“well, do you like your partners warm or cold, detective?” johnny asked, deflecting.

you were heeding the guard’s warning. it seemed this guy liked to answer questions with questions, your least favorite type of offender. “that’s why when you subsequently added the sex act to part of your crimes, you kept your victims much longer, because you like to see them suffer. until you got bored. then, you killed them and dumped their bodies like trash.”

as if he was disinterested, johnny glanced to the side and yawned.

the audacity on this guy was astounding. “am i boring you, suh?”

johnny replied with total indifference, “if you think you know everything, then why are we here?”

you answered without hesitation, “because i think you’ve wanted to tell someone about what you’ve done for a long time, johnny. but you realize that you’re not like other people. i’m giving you the opportunity to get it all off of your chest.”

johnny cocked his head to the side, as if he was contemplating your offer. his face was borderline inscrutable. it was difficult, if not impossible, to decipher what he was thinking.

you restrained from heaving a breath. there was a crushing weight on your shoulders, the expectation to get this guy to crack. if you couldn’t do it, nobody would - ever. “how many victims do you have?”

“four.” johnny’s answer was quick, automatic. like he didn’t even have to think about it for a second.

folding your arms on the table, you shook your head. “no, i just don’t think that’s true. see, we’re pretty sure martina mortes, your high school girlfriend, was your first victim, and the college professor was your last.”

johnny cocked a brow. “but?”

“but there’s no way someone like you could’ve resisted your urges between four kills over the past two decades and then some.”

there was no point in denying the four victims, because you already had substantial proof. nor did johnny deny that martina was his first victim, because given the decomposition of the bodies, she died long before the other three. admitting that she wasn’t would be admitting that there were unfound others.

and johnny had no intention of implicating himself more than he already had. the only reason he turned himself in was because he didn’t want to prolong the inevitable, for whatever reason. he pulled his lips into a mock frown. “your assumptions about my self-restraint are hurtful,” he replied.

whatever, moron, you thought irritability. “i think they’re more than just assumptions.”

johnny teased, “then, let me know when you know something.”

you narrowed your eyes, groaning, “oh, come on. i know and you know that you can’t ignore your desires for a month, let alone over ten years. you have a compulsion. killing makes you feel powerful, it makes you feel in control, and you can’t live without the high it gives you.”

“you make me sound like an addict,” johnny remarked, pretending to be offended.

“it wouldn’t be so far from the truth,” you said, glancing over the file at your end of the table. “the first two kills were seven years apart. the second two kills were ten. full offense, i don’t see how you could control yourself for so long.”

“you can believe what you want, detective. i didn’t kill anyone else,” johnny lied, not that you ever needed to know.

of course, he couldn’t control himself. the second he took someone’s life, it became a part of him, and his purpose in this world became clear to him. for the first time in his life, he felt as if he had something that made living worthwhile.

you surrendered. it was obvious johnny was intelligent and he wouldn’t be easily tricked into confessing. “okay, fine. let’s talk about the victims we know of. tell me about martina mortes.”

“what is there to tell?” johnny asked, brow cocked. “we met in junior high. then, in eleventh grade, we got together.”

“tell me about why you killed her,” you insisted, painfully curious. “it happened in chicago, before you moved to detroit over the summer. you killed her in the heat of the moment.”

johnny gave the impression that he would take a minute to crack, so you were surprised when he said in response to your prodding, “we got into a wrangle, if you will.”

that much was obvious. “what kind of wrangle?”

the garage was hot and the air was stuffy, making it difficult to breathe. to say nothing of the frustration scorching johnny’s skin, his face tensed into an irritated glower.

there was something about women he never liked, the seemingly inherent ability to blow almost anything out of proportion, as exhibited now as his girlfriend screamed in his face. his stepmother was the same, never not coming up with a reason to fuss at him. he was always walking on eggshells around that woman.

martina was bristling. “you always fucking do this, johnny.”

johnny heaved a breath, sighing, “what - what do i always do, martina?”

“you trivialize everything i go through. you make me feel like i’m overreacting when i’m not, you just refuse to hold yourself accountable,” she spat.

“martina, we’re about to go to college, for fuck’s sake! you can’t focus on your academics and goddamn child. i don’t get why you won’t just have an abortion and call it a day,” johnny roared, heating up a thousand degrees.

“god, do you listen to a word that comes out of my mouth? my parents will kill me, johnny. if not for being pregnant at eighteen, then for killing it.”

johnny sighed. “i don’t see the part where that’s my problem.”

tears blurred martina’s eyes. she came up to him, shattered by his careless and embraced by isolation, and bellowed, “you want to know what your problem is? your problem is that you’re an incompetent bastard with no regard for other people!”

johnny’s body was engulfed in flames but his shoulders were cold, and he lost control of his emotions, grabbing martina by the throat. he effortlessly lifted her with a single hand and smashed her against the closest wall none too gently, watching her eyes wince closed.

“you wanna say that again?” johnny asked, nothing short of belligerent.

ache spread out through the back of martina’s head, a ceaseless throbbing worse than any hungover. her feet dangled off of the ground, waving and kicking, fingers weakly prying at the ones pressing down on her windpipe. until she was completely still, legs dropping, hands going limp at her sides.

“i didn’t even realize how long i spent standing there, until she felt… empty, and i knew she was gone,” johnny confessed, but his tone was far from sympathetic. “she scratched me. you know, when she was trying to pry my hands off. i didn’t know until hours later.”

you shook your head, disdainful. “you killed your pregnant girlfriend?”

johnny groaned, “oh, please. i was eighteen. i would’ve been a terrible father.”

“i would be slightly more inclined to accept that as an excuse if it weren’t for the fact that you had a son by sabrina lee only two years later,” you said viciously.

“a lot can change in two years.”

“i’m sure it did.” your eyes flickered over the file again, but nothing would allow you to familiarize yourself with this killer more than talking to him yourself. “for example, you realized just how much you liked killing.”

if johnny could’ve raised his hands, he would’ve. “your words, not mine.”

you leaned over the table, unrelenting. “tell me about it, johnny. how did it feel when you strangled her with your bare hands? what was it like?”

johnny chuckled. “is that what you wanna hear?”

you nodded.

johnny leaned in too, getting closer to you, and whispered in your ear, “i squeezed every last breath out of her, one by one, until there was nothing left for her brain and she went slack in my arms. and when i was done, i felt elated. i felt free. it woke up this dormant sensation inside of me that i swore to never repress again, because it made me feel alive.”

your lungs started to feel shallower, like no breath could reach the bottom, and you sensed your heart come to a halt for a minute. johnny pulled back, grinning from ear to ear, as if he was proud of himself.

“detective, did i startle you?” johnny asked, tilting his head ever so slightly.

your face hardened. “why would you ever think that?”

“you’re not as good at feigning indifference as you think you are, detective. full offense,” he mimicked, mocking.

he’s just a fragile man that kills women to make him feel better about himself, because he needs to be in control. don’t give him power over you. that’s what he wants, you said to yourself, shutting any and all other thoughts. “so, you killed martina, nobody could connect her disappearance to you, and by the time they discovered her body you were already studying for college two states over.”

johnny ignored you, at least for a little. he was taking a liking to making you feel uneasy around him. “has anyone ever told you how gorgeous you are?” he asked out of nowhere.

“you aren’t my type. i don’t fool around with serial killers,” you replied sharply.

johnny didn’t seem to be offended, but you didn’t expect him to. “really now? it feels like we’re on a date right now. after all, we are getting to know each other.”

you asked, “have you always had such a distorted perception of normal human interaction?”

johnny shot with no hesitation, “have you always had such a sharp mouth?”

you pulled yourself together. the only way you would get anywhere with this guy was by establishing that you were the one in control. “okay, enough. this is my interview, suh. you answer my questions, not vice versa.”

“that’s not any fair,” johnny told you, that unnerving smile still on his lips. “i don’t have to tell you anything, you know. and without me, you lose the only key to those answers you want so badly.”

“you shutting up doesn’t make much of a difference, considering you’re already dodging my questions,” you replied.

“let’s play a game,” johnny suggested.

you weren’t in the mood for any games, but that was johnny’s method of operation. “i don’t like games.”

“you’ll like this one,” johnny insisted, laughing. “twenty questions.”

your shoulders dropped. “am i supposed to be guessing something?”

johnny shook his head, something sinister about him. “no, it’s much easier than that. we take turns asking each other questions until i’ve answered ten and you’ve unanswered ten.”

you stared into his eyes, willing yourself not to break contact. he was just as relentless, silently cocking a brow at you, as if to challenge. and you weren’t an idiot. that’s exactly what it was. you asserted, “i go first, you can only ask me yes or no questions, and if i don’t like your final answer i get to press you for another.”

johnny slightly lifted his shoulders in a nonchalant shrug. “yes, ma’am.”

“okay,” you started. “what made you move from illinois to michigan?”

“i was kicked out of the house. didn’t have anywhere else to go. but i had a buddy here whose family took me in,” johnny answered frankly.

you pondered those words, wondering if his aforementioned buddy knew about his secret indulgences. or if he asked why johnny’s parents kicked him out of their home. it would’ve been the question scratching at your mind, itching to be answered.

johnny’s lips parted. “what kind of perfume are you wearing - honey lavender?”

“yes,” you said, focusing your attention on anything but the possibilities of how he could’ve known that. he’d been with so many people to the point where he just knew. “why did you get kicked out of the house?”

“my dad always thought there was something different about me, ever since i was a child. he was a nasty piece of work. he found my journal, read a couple of things i wrote, and decided there was no hope for me in the house,” johnny ranted.

that piqued your curiosity. “what did you write about?”

“wait your turn,” johnny sang. “your hair smells just as lovely as the rest of you. do you match scents all the time?”

you were mildly uncomfortable, but given the type of dude he was, you stifled it. “yes. you don’t have to be such a pervert all the time, you know?”

again, johnny rolled his shoulders, chirping, “you call it perverse. i call it amusing.”

you almost cursed under your breath when you realize you’d asked him a question. “wait, i didn’t mean to ask…”

johnny cut you off, “that’s too bad. it’s my turn again. do you like necklaces?”

“not ones made out of fingers,” you retorted. it was meant to be a joke to hide how unsettled you were, hyper aware of the necklace dangling around your neck. you could feel invisible pressure on your throat.

johnny snickered. “i’ll admit that was funny.”

you pressed, “what did you write about in the journal?”

“my dreams,” he admitted vaguely, though in reality, he wrote endlessly about his corrupt fantasies of abusing women. some pages were about his stepsister, and there was a few about what he’d done to martina, though not explicitly. “you have the most beautiful eyes. they’re the perfect shade.”

you were certain he had told many other girls those same words and were not flattered in the slightest. the glare you were giving him was ferocious. “i’m not sure if there’s a question in there somewhere.”

“do you think your eyes are pretty?”

“i haven’t really thought about it,” you told him, quick to change the topic. you’d encountered your fair share of stranglers and it was no secret why he was so interested in your eyes. “was your relationship with your father estranged?”

“nothing was enough for that man. i had the top grades in my class and the highest gpa, and he took my door off its hinges and seized my privacy,” johnny told you, words harsh, but his tone plain. “he was obsessed with being the perfect family, something that was ruined the second my mother destroyed everything, and rather than embrace me, he turned me away.”

your eyes flickered. there was something about his language that stood out to you. courtesy of the research you’d done on him beforehand, you were aware that his father was divorced then remarried his stepmother, who already had a daughter johnny’s age. but rather than describe his parent’s separation as a divorce, he said his mother destroyed everything.

what a hostile view towards women, you mused, repulsed. but given the nature of his crimes, it adds up. and it might’ve been the origin of his hatred.

his family was twisted. you couldn’t fathom how his father, aware of just how unwell his son was, clocked his abusive fantasies towards women, and instead of getting him the help he needed, he left him to his own devices to slaughter them as he pleased.

you blinked when johnny leaned, craning his face towards yours, and snapped out of your reverie when you jolted back.

“there you are,” johnny said, chuckling at your surprise. it was all over your face. “i’ve been talking to myself all this time. you must’ve been thinking about me.”

“no, not really. i was wondering if i forgot to feed my dog last night.” it was an obvious lie, but you would never encourage this guy to feel more important than he was.

amusement gleamed in johnny’s eyes. he was having a wonderful time, truth be told. had you not been so pretty, he would’ve clamped up like a crab, but you were so pleasing to the eye that he didn’t mind confessing a couple of truths. “a dog. that’s interesting. i myself have always wanted a pet - a snake. the constricting kind are my favorite.”

“you don’t say,” you droned, voice dripping with crisp irony.

your sarcasm was chucklesome to johnny, but his words were the truth. he remembered, all those years ago, asking his father for a pet snake. and when he refused, johnny, in turn, killed the family dog. he added, “they don’t just suffocate their prey. they coil around them, almost like a straitjacket, and cut off its blood supply.”

you replied, “yeah, but animals hunt to survive. you hunted because you had nothing better to do with your life.”

“in my humble opinion, we’re all animals of nature, and creatures of sin,” johnny told you in a whisper, as if he were telling you a secret of some kind. “anyways, it’s my turn now.”

you resisted a disgruntled exhale.

like his questions couldn’t get any more absurd and strangely perverse, johnny asked, “when you shower, what do you use - a washcloth or a loofah?”

“that’s not a yes or no question,” you replied with total disinterest.

“it’s hardly any less simple.”

“a washcloth,” you replied, though only because you needed to ask him your questions and resisting an answer would only waste valuable time. “why did you wait so long before killing sabrina lee?”

johnny smiled at the mention of his son’s mother, but the grin on his lips was distinguishable from the others. like he didn’t even realize he was smiling. “she was special. i loved her.”

“no, you didn’t. you don’t hurt people that you love.”

“maybe that’s true for you, but you’ve called me everything but a child of god and it’s clear you don’t think you and i are alike,” johnny said. “i don’t miss her, though, because she left a better print on this world. a world that was never made for her in the first place.”

a better print on this world. your brows furrowed, until you remembered the child they shared together. “you know what i think? i think whatever you felt for your son’s mother was the closest thing to love you’ll ever be able to pull from your ugly black heart.”

“you’re very strongly opinionated,” johnny responded, ever so unbothered. maybe some decades ago, it would’ve irked him to the point of breaking, but he was much more in charge of his impulses now.

you lifted your shoulders, gazing at him with the most discerning of eyes. all he could think about was how nice it would’ve been to seize you by the throat and watch the light dull from them.

to your surprise, johnny’s next question was not as a deviant as you assumed it would be, asking, “what made you decide you wanted to become a detective?”

“because of the people i used to know that aren’t around to tell you why,” you answered distantly, before pressing, “how was sabrina different, johnny?”

johnny perched over the table again, an uncomfortable distance close to you, made worse by his whispers. “because unlike the others, she didn’t beg me to stop - she begged me to finish. for it to be over. and when i wouldn’t, she begged me to kill her.”

the mental picture you got was cruel. your heart hurt for these women that had no idea what hit them until it was too late.

“i put these women out of their misery,” johnny continued.

you spat in a heartbeat, “the misery that you forced them to endure.”

johnny winced. “no, these women were miserable long before they met me. they were just ignorant of it. impressionability is a weakness.”

“either you have one hell of a god complex or you are working overtime to justify your sick actions.”

johnny merely shrugged, vicious and ominous and everything in between. there was something so dark about his spirit. you could feel it just from sitting within a couple of feet of him.

johnny’s memories were triggered. he was reminiscing about the times he shared with his son’s mother, how perfect she was. there were no other women like her. she was his favorite victim, someone he took his sweet time with, while the others were disposed of in a few months time.

midnight loomed, riding on the tail of dusk. johnny was counting down the minutes until the clock struck twelve, a self-imposed rule to gauge his willpower. the second the hour came, he bolted from the crackling sound of the cabin’s fireplace to a bedroom, anticipation like a stimulant.

the wooden floorboards creaked the closer johnny crept to the door. save for himself and the woman chained to the bedpost, the cabin was void of life. it belonged to the parents of a close friend who ensured it was vacant whenever johnny needed a place to indulge his twisted fantasies.

which was basically all of the time.

he meandered inside with a crisp bottle of water in hand, droplets condensing at its sides. sabrina laid right where he left her, just as broken, dreading her next breath. tape adhered to the flesh over her mouth, muffling her whimpers. there was nobody around for miles, the cabin was totally isolated, but it was a safety measure.

the chains were used likewise. when johnny was not there, the restraints kept her prisoner. johnny, reckless as he could be back then, was many things and stupid was not one of them. the chains stretched long enough to reach the bathroom but no further and he had his loyal friend help him test it after each victim.

“can you go further?” johnny called out.

jaehyun’s lower limbs were shackled, ceasing his footsteps just shy of the hallway as he came to a total standstill. “not if i want my legs to follow me,” he’d retorted.

johnny had snickered. “good.”

had johnny been there, though, he would take the chains off. none of this was fair, even johnny didn’t believe that, but not giving them the chance to fight was too unfair. he needed not to chain them when he had the gift of his big, burly arms.

johnny waltzed over with a lighthearted and carefree gait, as if this was just another wednesday afternoon to him. and in some sick, despicable way, that wasn’t too far from the truth. he ripped the tape from sabrina’s lips, watching her face tense with pain.

“johnny,” sabrina rasped, voice croaking. he could tell from her flushed face and misty eyes that she’d been crying. “i’m thirsty.”

johnny cocked a brow, glancing to his hand. he had an irritating knack for playing dumb. it used to be endearing. now, with everything she knew to be true torn from her bare hands, sabrina didn’t know what to think. “what - you want this?”

sabrina nodded.

“yeah?” he popped off the top, throwing back a few gulps just before releasing a satisfied, “ah.”

sabrina’s lips trembled. “please.”

had she been anybody else, johnny probably would’ve dangled the water in her face just to snatch it away, but there was something about sabrina that made him gravitate towards her. in a rare moment of benevolence, johnny handed her the water, letting her drink.

she didn’t drink in short sips, but in giant gulps as if she’d known for some time that they’d be her last. when her thirst was satiated, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, handing the bottle back, and whispered, “thank you.”

johnny set the drink aside before returning to her, unshackling her limbs. sabrina’s breath quickened the moment the chains clacked harshly against the floor and nearly stilled when he brought his hand to her flushed face, tracing her chapped lips with a calloused thumb.

his thoughts rushed with unbridled exhilaration, ablaze with suspense, but he slowed for a moment to marvel at her loveliness. johnny’s hand touched her hair, touch tender in ways it would never be again, because he would never again know a woman as great as her.

he brought his lips to her ear, nibbling at the shell before asking, “do you know what i want you to do?”

sabrina bobbed her head, starting to halfheartedly peel off her clothes without needing to be told. with so many days held prisoner in this hell hole, it became routine. like she’d already resigned herself to her fate and knew johnny getting his way was inevitable. he always got what he wanted.

to be frank, it came out of nowhere. she never saw this twisted side of him coming. all she knew was that she became suspicious of his lack of family presence and it was too late when she saw him for the monster that he was, and then she woke here.

it had to have been months ago, although sabrina couldn’t have been sure how many. everyday started to bleed into the static hopelessness of another. sometimes johnny wouldn’t show for days, leaving her to live antsily, dreading his unavoidable return. other times, he would spend a day or two in the cabin, fucking her into kingdom come.

as if she couldn’t be any more faultless. johnny smirked. “smart girl,” he purred. he would never deny her wit, given that she’d caught onto him, but her lack of strength was her only vice.

johnny restlessly tossed his own shirt over his naked shoulder and came to step out of his boxers. there was mischief on his plush lips. he knew something sabrina only knew from the unkind churn of her gut.

the end was more than near. it loomed over her, relentless and remorseless, and all she could like it to was dark and leaden clouds in a somber sky. even then, there was almost nothing she wouldn’t give to see the world again, but she’d long kissed that hope goodbye.

“down,” johnny told her, tone dark and stern.

she pliantly did as told, bare back meeting the mattress. johnny crept over her, hard cock twitching at the sight of her so meek. typically, he liked when they put up a fight, but sabrina knew better.

johnny could tell she was fighting back tears, willing herself not to cry with a stabilized breath, but her endeavors were in vain the second he started to force his way inside her. they escaped her eyes and dampened her cheeks, unable to overlook the agony of the stretch.

“shh, baby,” johnny crooned in her ear, the weight of his body bearing down onto hers. “what’s the matter? you used to beg me to fuck you.”

sabrina shook her head, silently pleading for a mercy she knew deep down that johnny wasn’t capable of. “please make it quick.”

johnny’s tone was almost sweet. “but baby, you told me you wanted to spend the rest of your life with me, remember?”

johnny knew that his words weren’t reassuring and he didn’t intend for them to be. there was a reason why he loved how she tried to hold herself together. he got to push her limits, find her breaking point. in the end, she would get her wish, and in a way, johnny thought that that was love.

her walls were just as tight and vice-like as they’d been all those times he’d taken her before. if johnny got close enough to her, let his hands wander and tease as they never not had done, sabrina would still involuntarily gush around his cock. like her body knew she was forever a slave to his touch.

just looking at her face as she wept sent shock waves of pleasure rippling through his dick and chest. sabrina didn’t cry in noisy, gasping sobs. her tears dripped from her thick lashes quietly, mouth parting in the most silent of whimpers.

and she orgasmed the same way, johnny remembered. back when things were normal between them, when she begged for him to fuck her, as he called it, her release was marked by a volatile shudder, but a silent cry of ecstasy.

johnny pushed sabrina’s lips into an upward curling with his thumb and index finger. “smile for the camera, sabrina,” he whispered.

sabrina’s brows furrowed, painfully oblivious to the camera tracking her every emote. johnny couldn’t not document his deeds. there was something about being able to play them over, immersing himself back in that moment over and over, even when the life itself could not be so easily brought back.

but for johnny, they could be. when he rewatched these videos again and again, it was like he could feel their pulses thump in their neck, resuscitating.

johnny’s hands were everywhere, fingertips traipsing towards sabrina’s neck where marks lingered from all the times he’d strangled her, only to slacken his grip when she was just shy of passing out. the bruises were different colors, indicative of different healing stages. sabrina tensed, startled, and wondered when it would all be over.

“johnny.” sabrina was overcome with defeat. her voice cracked as she asked, “johnny, please just cum.”

johnny’s face tensed with pleasure. “fuck, babe, when you say it like that…”

he stood at the brink of climax, threatening to teeter over, and there was only one thing that could knock him over quicker than anything else. it wouldn’t be anything she said, anything she did, but only a weakness johnny had the power to wield against himself.

“you want me to finish?”

sabrina nodded.

johnny chuckled darkly. “then, in that case, it’s time for you to get your wish, baby.”

he watched her shoulders slump, releasing all hope of ever knowing anything different again and accepting that this was where things ended. thinking about the feeling he remembered none too distantly, one that almost seemed to keep his blood pumping through him, in a way, johnny’s fingers itched.

johnny lifted his hands, bringing them to sabrina’s face, but before he could touch her, she exclaimed, “wait, johnny!”

his brow cocked.

sabrina’s lips trembled. “can you tell me what today is? please?”

“wednesday,” johnny replied, holding his hands around her neck, but keeping his grip slack. for now.

“wednesday,” sabrina said, pulling her lips into the faintest of smiles as tears blurred her vision. “will you tell haechan that i hope he has an amazing thursday?”

“that can be arranged,” johnny said, grinning.

sabrina nodded, setting her mind at ease. she’d already made peace with this day some months ago. she never knew when it come, but she saw it as something bound to happen. “thank you,” she whispered.

those were her last words. because when johnny tightened his grip at her throat, almost like tightening a noose, he couldn’t bring himself to stop in spite of the agonized gleam in her stare. and then her stare was empty, and johnny had already emptied his load inside of her.

to describe the sensation he got from killing in a way that captured its essence would be impossible. it was more than feeling the life leave her. it was more than watching her eyes become soulless. it was a release, a way of relinquishing all of the vacantness he harbored, and knowing that his heart was still there.

it would always return, sometimes as soon as the next day, but for a minute, johnny was whole and no drug could replicate that kind of contentedness.

johnny did tell haechan what sabrina said. he wasn’t all too sure why, maybe it was because she was his mother and haechan was her son that they’d created together, and johnny would never have it any other way. for her to be the one to give him a child, he couldn’t imagine any other woman in her place.

it was almost unfortunate that she had to go so soon. even johnny thought that her demise was premature. had she not grown so suspicious of him, johnny could imagine making her his wife, maybe even spending the rest of his life with her.

their marriage wouldn’t have been without his secret dark life, but sabrina wouldn’t’ve been a victim. alas, loose ends needed to be tied. johnny couldn’t trust that she would’ve kept quiet, and even then, she was in a much more fitting place for an angel like herself.

there was much of this memory that would be abridged. never would johnny reveal anything about the cabin or the dear friend that helped him commit his indulgences, or even the existence of the tapes. if they found those videos, that was proof of murder with a grand total of 106 women.

the air around you was heavy and the words you’d just been fed weren’t easily take in. “what you’re just told me is really sad.”

but johnny didn’t look sad. whether or not he ever truly cared for sabrina would perpetually be a mystery. “maybe,” he started. “but tell me that you wouldn’t hurt the person you loved most if it was what was best for them.”

“i did. but what i had to do is different from what you were.”

johnny’s interest was piqued. “how come?”

“it was my responsibility to decide whether or not to take my sister off of the ventilator. there was no hope for her,” you confessed, though brushed over it quickly. “what happened to your ex-wife?”

“not that interesting of a story,” johnny said. “she wasn’t sabrina, i got tired of her, here we are.”

“and yet she wasn’t a one-off like martina mortes.”

“had she been a one-off, my body count would be one number higher. that was a favor,” johnny told you, grinning as if you actually had something to be grateful for.

you didn’t waste a second to accuse, “because you need to keep your victims to extract all the relief that you can from them, right?”

“i’m afraid it’s not your turn to ask questions,” johnny replied tauntingly. “what was your sister like - did she have long hair? what color were her eyes? how long were her lashes?”

sick son of a bitch, bellowed the voice in your head, though you willed yourself to remain composed. it was plain on his face that johnny didn’t want an answer - he wanted a reaction. and as furious as that made you, you couldn’t let him provoke you. “that’s none of your business,” you said, but there was a loophole. “but she was beloved.”

that qualified as an answer. johnny glanced at you in a way that made you feel see-through, as if he knew that you were threatening to come apart at the seams and didn’t buy your nonchalance for a minute.

sated, he went on to feed you bullshit about his ex-wife’s death, though there were only four people who knew what truly happened to her and one of them was dead.

johnny remembered that day like it happened yesterday. it was a thursday evening when he’d come home from work. christine had picked haechan up from school hours ago and johnny wholly expected to come home to her in the kitchen.

it was dark outside. the moon was a mere sliver and the stars were duller than they typically were, almost like they had witnessed something that drained their spirits. johnny remembered struggling to identify his house key, trying each of them until the door clicked open.

“i’m home,” johnny’s voice thundered as he turned to lock the door.

there were quick footsteps from upstairs. haechan, johnny thought, more than familiarized with the sound. but there was none of christine’s usual voice.

“dad, i’m hungry,” came haechan’s voice from the stairs, coming down them one by one.

that in itself should’ve been suspicious, but instead, all johnny could think about was how sabrina would’ve already fed her son. “hasn’t christine made dinner by now?” johnny asked, irritated.

haechan shook his head, though johnny couldn’t see. he was hanging his coat on the rack, like he always did after he locked the door. “she can’t right now.”

“why not?”

“because i think she’s dead,” haechan replied, nonchalant as ever.

that was the very second that johnny turned around and noticed that haechan was stained with blood. it was all over his face and the spots would probably never come out of his clothes, not that they would be kept.

for half a minute, johnny was genuinely stunned.

haechan didn’t say what happened, and there was no need to. “the blood won’t come off,” was all he said, showing his father the pair of hands that he’d washed with vigor.

johnny heaved a breath. he should’ve seen this coming. haechan took after his father and he never liked christine. to say the least, johnny couldn’t blame him. “where is she?”

“where they all go,” haechan replied, as if it was the most normal and natural thing in the world to him.

johnny headed for the basement with quick footsteps, haechan following behind. if somebody were to come down there, they wouldn’t suspect a thing. not only was it decorated to look like one, but it was used as a man cave. behind a soundproof wall, though, was a dungeon for his prisoners.

in this case, there was a trail of blood leading to the wall, proof that haechan had somehow brought christine there after he hurt her. johnny entered the cell and saw her there behind the bars, coming to her side to check her pulse.

pressing his thumb to her wrist and neck, johnny sensed a pulse, though it was weakening. “she’s not dead,” he said, wresting his phone out of his pocket.

haechan didn’t look so relieved, but he didn’t voice his dissatisfaction. “are you mad?”

johnny glanced down at christine. haechan had used a kitchen knife, attacking her in the heat of the moment. she was butchered and blood-splattered, on the verge of slaughter, and yet johnny couldn’t find it in him to offer any compassion. “that you hurt her? no. that you made a mess? a little.”

now that was a relief. to haechan, at least back then, his dad was the coolest guy that he knew.

there was quite the scene in front of him and johnny didn’t have a thing for blood. he shook his head in reproach, chastising, “i’m going to teach you the right way to get rid of a woman when you’re sick of her.”

that piqued haechan’s curiosity.

johnny was quick to dial jaehyun’s number. he had medical experience and that was what he needed right now. when the call connected, he said, “i’m in calling in a favor.”

jaehyun patched her up again. at least for a few months, johnny still needed her breathing. they scrubbed the floors free of blood, burned haechan’s bloodied clothes, and it was as if nothing ever happened.

what johnny had told you was only a fraction of the truth, but still enough to make you want to grimace. it bemused you how he got away with murdering his ex-wife and nobody thought to suspect her husband with a track record of disappearing partners.

“you want to know what’s really amazing?” you started, though it was more like disgusting. “how three of the women you’ve killed were your significant others, and somehow, you’ve only now been incriminated.”

johnny looked proud of himself. had it not been for haechan, he probably would’ve never been caught. “sabrina never told anyone that we dated, or that she had a baby by me. her parents wanted her to focus on her education. if they knew she’d gotten pregnant, she would’ve been the black sheep.”

“and you took advantage of that,” you hissed.

“so what if i did?” johnny asked, careless. “not to mention that dozens of teenage girls in chicago were going missing at the time. they added martina to that number and called it a day. is that sad? maybe. but that’s how it works.”

“and as for your co-worker?” you asked sharply. the boldness of his crimes astounded you. “her husband grieves her. were you having an affair?”

the thought of her made johnny chuckle. oh, were we, he reminisced. it was a misfortune that he didn’t get the chance to have his way with her the way that he wanted. and for that reason, he couldn’t regale you in a truthful account of her death.

what happened that day, the day his co-worker died, challenged his fate and was the reason that he only now knew the imprisonment he thrusted upon others.

johnny knew when he spotted her that he would revel in her vulnerability. married, but she hardly wore her ring. her kind was the most naive - the kind that believed ecstasy was without costly sin. one way or another, she had to reap what she sowed.

he worked his way inside her pants, but it was hardly any work; she was on a desperate pursuit for pleasure and when johnny promised it to her, offering content on a silver platter, she thought less with her brain and more with the throbbing between her legs.

for months, johnny slept with her, which was far from typical. if she were anybody else, johnny would have pursued her for a couple of weeks time, then banished her to the underground prison. though considering he already had a victim down there at the time, he had some time to spare.

it was no secret that she had grown fond of johnny in ways she hadn’t been of her husband in a very long time, and though johnny found her to be special, in a way, he could not reciprocate her feelings. when johnny saw her, all he felt was the overwhelming urge to use her without a lick of remorse, and squeeze those panting breaths out of her.

it was a shame that he never got the opportunity. johnny already tested the bounds of his self-restraint when it came to her, each of their encounters consensual with her oblivious to his deepest, darkest desires. sometimes, his fingers would wander to her neck, but even that was wanted.

what was not wanted was the tyranny over her body that preceded her death. it bemused johnny to learn that his son, along with two of his friends that he thought of like brothers and johnny thought of like sons, ravaged her to the brink of being unrecognizable.

had johnny held control over the situation, he wouldn’t have cared what happened to her and would have even permitted them to go to town. but what happened was somehow darker. when he got a call from the professor late that day, hearing her broken sobs over the phone, he told her to meet him at his house.

that was his first mistake.

it wasn’t that she didn’t come. she made it there, hopeful to confide in johnny about the nightmare that tore her apart, but it was haechan that opened the front door. and when she entered, there was no hope out of her coming out breathing.

haechan had been a downward spiral ever since a month ago when he stumbled upon the tape of his mother. ever since he was a boy, haechan watched every tape he could find of his father’s dark life, even sharing them with his friends as if they were movies and not snuff.

but this was not like those. this was his mother. and watching her suffer, listening to her final request before her untimely death, broke haechan in ways which he would never recover.

haechan had known since he was little that his mother was dead and his father was to blame, but his understanding of what happened to her was skewed. if he’d known eighteen years ago what he knew today, when johnny had his own son aid him in his mother’s demise, none of it would have ever happened.

to say nothing of the fact that what johnny had haechan do was only a mere fraction of his mother’s suffering. haechan would fetch things from the other side of the cabin he vaguely remembered visiting every now and then for three months. when he was not there, which was often, he would lie to his neighbors about her whereabouts.

even though when she died he was only a kid being taken advantage of, haechan hated himself for letting it happen right under his nose. he wished he would’ve told his neighbors the truth. maybe if he had, his mother would still be alive and kicking, and he would know the only woman he ever cared for.

that was why he went after his professor that he knew his father had also been eyeing closely and having an affair with. her fate was obvious. johnny would entertain her for a while, somehow charm and woo his way into her pants like he did every other woman, kidnap her and keep her downstairs for three months, then kill her and identify the next victim.

but johnny’s liking of her was also hopelessly discernable. she was living too long. and that was a telltale sign that johnny took a special interest in his son’s professor, something that haechan feared would rival the affection (if it existed) for his mother.

haechan was not keen on having his mother replaced. the last time it happened, he snapped and maimed his stepmother. and he was not afraid of doing so again.

when haechan exacted revenge, it felt like nothing he had ever done before. vengeance tasted like heaven. his professor tasted elysian. and he had never felt so good about himself, but then the high wore off, comparable to the fading release johnny got after strangling his victims, and familiar pain seared through him once further.

vindictiveness was a lethal venom, festering quickly upon injection. after haechan got what he wanted, there was a greed to replicate that feeling, in spite of the fact that nothing would compare to that first blow. in his own way, unlike his father’s but similar nonetheless, he was pivoting towards release.

haechan was on the brink of something like psychosis when he heard those knocks on his front door. and when he peered outside, spotting the professor, his recklessness got the better of him.

she was dead before she even stepped inside the house. haechan yanked her inside, brought her downstairs, and forced himself onto her for a second time that day. when she wept for johnny, wishing he would come home, haechan almost pitied her naïveté.

if haechan hadn’t killed her, wrapping his hands around her throat the way that he knew his father had been yearning to, johnny would have.

the look on his professor’s face was pitiful. “sorry,” haechan said, though he clasped his hands around her throat harder. “but i have to make a statement.”

it was not particularly a difficult thing to do, at least not to stomach, but killing her was merely just a means to an end. he didn’t get off to it like his father would’ve. haechan’s interest lay in inflicting psychological damage, but he did it because he knew how much it pleasured johnny to squeeze the life out of his victims.

and if haechan couldn’t have what he wanted, then as long as he lived, neither would his dad for tearing it away.

johnny came home moments too late. haechan left his professor in the cellar for his father to find, eyes wide and face pale.

johnny glanced around. he saw her car parked outside, but no sign of her. when haechan came from his bedroom on the upper floor, a creeping feeling of deja vu flooded johnny’s chest, but he asked, “where is she?”

haechan’s face was expressionless. “she’s dead,” he replied, confident. “i mean it this time.”

johnny shook his head. “you killed her?”

“wasn’t it you that said you were going to teach me the proper way to dispose of a woman when i’m sick of her?” haechan asked, approaching his father as he crept down the stairs.

though johnny wasn’t pleased, he willed himself to calm down. “did you strangle her?”

“yes.”

johnny figured, from the lack of blood staining his house this time around. “will you tell me about it?”

that caught haechan off-guard. he expected his father to be angry, to let loose. he had to have been dreaming of choking her since the day he laid eyes on her. “you sick fuck,” haechan sneered.

johnny snickered, unbothered. that’s rich. “who do you think you got it from?”

obviously, from the face haechan was making, he didn’t like that. his nonchalant attitude dissipated. “i’m not like you!”

“keep telling yourself that. maybe one day you’ll delude yourself into believing it,” johnny replied, hanging his coat on the rack in spite of knowing he would be leaving again soon.

“i’m not like you - i mean that.”

johnny, miffed, rolled his eyes and said, “come on, son. you think i don’t know you and your friends have been watching my tapes for the past decade and then some like they’re cartoons?”

“but not mom’s,” haechan spat, loathing fizzing in his stare.

johnny froze, then spun around. “is that what this is all about?”

haechan nodded, pleased his father was finally getting the picture. “i found it in your study. you hid it more carefully than the others, because she was special or you didn’t want me to find it, i don’t know.”

johnny heaved a breath. “you were never supposed to see that.”

“but i did,” haechan replied. “and i’ve suffered every day for the past month because of that.”

johnny shot without hesitation, “a suffering you brought upon yourself. nobody asked you to go snooping around in my things.”

haechan’s lips were twisted into the meanest snarl johnny had ever seen. emotion wrecked through him in its totality. “is that what’s important to you? i shouldn’t be surprised. you couldn’t even spare your own son’s mother from your heartlessness.”

johnny massaged his temple, summoning all of his willpower. “please,” he groaned, sensing an incoming headache. “women are weak, cheating whores. just look at your professor. maybe your mother wasn’t, but she was a liability.”

if that was supposed to console haechan, it had the complete opposite effect. “are you saying she deserved it?”

“i’m saying that you’ve always been too soft,” johnny said, not bothering to sugarcoat his chastising. “just like your mother. even when you were a child. that’s why i had you help me, i hoped you would harden up a little.”

haechan scoffed. “unbelievable.”

“your mother went quietly. she didn’t even fight it, haechan. so, why are you?”

“because of that,” haechan told him, vitriol in his voice. “she didn’t ask you to stop one time. she just asked you to get it over with.”

johnny tipped his head back. “ah, yes. she really was perfect, wasn’t she?”

that was all it took to kindle an unforgiving rage within haechan and in a moment of fury, flickering through him in a flash, haechan lifted his hand to smack his father.

johnny caught his wrist, as if this weren’t the first time this had happened and it was wholeheartedly expected. his voice lowered to a mere hiss, “i’ve never laid a hand on you. ever in your life. don’t make today be the day i start.”

haechan glared, but wrested his way out of his father’s grip and backed away.

johnny smoothed down his shirt and headed for the kitchen, knowing haechan would follow. this conversation was far from over. “now, if you excuse me, i have to clean up your mess,” he said, pulling a burner phone out of a drawer. “if you don’t mind.”

“i can clean up my own mess,” haechan replied, scowling.

setting the phone on the counter, johnny reached for a glass. “no, you can’t. not without digging your own grave. unless you want to go to prison, pack your shit, ask one of your buddies if you can stay with them for a few days, and take the tapes with you. hide them.”

haechan made a face. “what are you talking about?”

johnny sighed. “we can’t get away with this one, son. her car’s parked outside. there’s too many loose ends.”

“we can get rid of the car. you don’t have to go to jail!” haechan shouted.

“it’s either you or me. frankly, i’m doing you a favor. you wouldn’t last two seconds behind bars,” johnny hissed. he grabbed another glass, sliding it across the counter, then said, “now, wine? you know, to celebrate your old man going away? i believe that’s what you want.”

haechan shook his head. never in his life had he been so conflicted. his father that he’d been so bent on despising until the day he died was voluntarily confessing to a crime he didn’t commit, just so that his son wouldn’t have to suffer in prison.

“why are you doing this?” haechan asked, bristling with emotion.

johnny sighed. “because i love you, son. even if you don’t think so. and because your mother would be turning in her grave if she knew you were in prison.”

haechan blew out a breath. then, after a moment of reluctance, he grabbed the glass on the counter and reached for the wine bottle.

johnny snickered. “atta boy.”

“i wonder how your son reacted when he learned you were going to prison for murder,” you said, pondering. “you live in the same house. i wonder how he didn’t know.”

johnny lied, “he was at a friend’s house when i killed her. doesn’t like that it was his favorite professor.”

you nodded along, buying his lies. “that is a lot to take in. i mean, imagine your dad was having an affair with your favorite science professor. then, he kills her, like how he killed your mom.”

johnny shrugged his shoulders. “have you never heard the phrase ‘the heart wants what it wants?’”

“i have,” you replied. “and i guess your heart wanted to stop the function of others.”

johnny laughed at his own expense. “oh, please. you give me too much credit. you shouldn’t make me out to be more romantic than i am.”

you shook your head in disappointment. “you make these women want you, and then you undo everything. that has to be part of the amusement to you.”

“it gets a chuckle or two out of me.”

your lips were tempted to curl into a frown for the umpteenth time that day alone. “why?”

johnny leaned up in his chair, exclaiming, “because it’s fun!”

you were going to say something, but he didn’t give you the chance.

johnny continued, “everyday, as adults, we do the same job for hours and come home. people want excitement in their lives. women get exhausted of coming home to their husbands or nobody at all.”

your stare was blank. “and your point is?”

“i didn’t just make those women want me, baby. i made them need me,” johnny told you smugly. “i brought a spark to their lives, and i took it away just as fast. and i do it… because i can.”

“because you could,” you corrected, confident he would never be free of this place for as long as he lived. “you’re going to be in here a very, very long time.”

johnny grinned. “i wouldn’t be so sure.”

you cocked your brow. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“wouldn’t you like to know?” johnny teased. you hated the smugness in his tone. like he knew something that you didn’t.

the door opened, and the guard from earlier returned. “i hate to interrupt, but it’s time for the count,” he said, coming behind johnny to undo his cuffs.

it all happened in a blink. johnny’s weight was pressed flush against yours, roughly thrusting you into the table. your body screamed, agony spreading through your side, but your gun was in a lockbox outside the room.

johnny knew from your conversations alone that you weren’t the type to go quietly. your first instinct was to fight back. naturally, you struggled against his hold, refusing to bend to his will even as panic shot through your chest. your whole body was on guard, aiming for survival.

but to your misfortune, your might was no match for johnny’s. you glanced to the guard for assistance, but when he only stood there as if he was waiting for it to end, the most unsettling feeling of realization washed over you.

“don’t fight him,” the guard said, arms crossed. “you won’t win.”

johnny snickered when he noticed your eyes widen in shock. you hadn’t seen that coming. though you tried to resist, it was over once his slender fingers came to your throat, and you genuinely feared for your life.

you didn’t realize how good you had it just being able to breathe until you couldn’t anymore. your breaths wouldn’t come. it felt as if your bones were being crushed. your whole body was on fight mode, but it was like johnny had the reins, shutting down your senses one by one.

“you put up a good fight, detective,” johnny whispered darkly in your ear, admiring your struggle.

your lips parted, but you couldn’t speak no matter how hard you tried. your self-preservation instincts were no match against him. all you could do was meet johnny’s stare. the pressure on your neck was too much to handle, and in seconds, you were out.

“lights out,” johnny said. he released your throat, having no intention of killing you and leading you for dead, but knowing that you would likely regain consciousness in a matter of seconds, he grabbed you by the hair, smashing your head flat against the table to subdue you.

jaehyun winced, but he did nothing to step in. “poor girl,” he mumbled under his breath, pitying you. “had enough?”

“for now,” johnny replied. “let’s go.”

jaehyun gave johnny a uniform to wear so that he would blend in amongst the uniforms like jaehyun had and when he was ready, the two of them fled before they could be deterred.

when they had successfully gotten away, jaehyun asked with his hand on a steering wheel, “you know that i don’t agree with this, right?”

johnny snickered. it had absolutely been said. “you haven’t agreed with my lifestyle for the past twenty-five years, yet you still help me. why?”

jaehyun frowned. sometimes, he asked himself the same question, but deep down inside, he knew the answer. “because we may not share blood, but we’re brothers,” jaehyun replied. “and for my brother, i’ll do anything you need.”

johnny quipped, “like smuggle me across the border?”

“like smuggle you across the border,” jaehyun said, chuckling. “when we get there, there’s gonna be this dude named mark. he’s gonna help you out. i’ll be in touch.”

johnny nodded. “i can’t thank you enough, man.”

“just lay low and stay out of trouble,” jaehyun said, shaking his head.

johnny grinned with mischief. he was already thinking about all of the beautiful women he couldn’t wait to get his hands on. “no promises,” he answered, sighing contentedly.

#johnny suh smut #nct 127 smut #johnny smut #nct x reader #nct 127 #nct 127 x reader #johnny suh x reader #johnny suh scenarios #nct smut #tw: noncon #tw: murder #revehae fics

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spiraling-trap · 4 months

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would you bury me? would you carry me to the end?

#tw: death #tw: blood #tw: murder #this is supposed to be like. lights mind #i saw someone say why don’t more people draw light with a heart in his hands and took it as a challenge #also the outfits are frerard outfits from revenge era. smiles #also also this was inspired by Dead! which fits better but the formal attire makes me think of TTE #light yagami #death note #l lawliet #lawlight #mcr #emo lawlight

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toji-girl · 2 months

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got you | t. fushiguro

synopsis: Being an assassin means you don't have much time to yourself and that you're a strong person, but how strong are you really when it comes to Toji?

wc: 3.4k

tags: 18+ ONLY content + minors and empty blogs DNI + fem reader + modern au (no curses) + Toji is a politician + blow job + pussy eating + unprotected sex + creampie + fingering + slight dom! Toji + spitting in mouth + cum eating + bondage with his belt + he might be ooc + alcohol but no one is drunk + overstimulation + this is Halloween based (it's my favorite) + talks about murder + hard degradation + any missing tag pretty please lmk, I did edit it but I am human so I might've accidentally forgotten something!!

AN: I posted this on my very first blog which was four years ago give or take and this has been rotting in my docs for such a long time so I cleaned it up and dusted it off!! so if you notice any differences just know it's very old!!

You looked in the mirror adjusting your dress that sported a thigh-high slit along with the lace garter that held a small dagger you were to use on your target, Toji Fushiguro.

After grueling hours reading about him you felt like you knew him well enough to gather his attention, his sadism and arrogance would make this easy for you. You grabbed your tube of lipstick swiping it over your lips to complete the look for the evening.

Tonight’s the night of some Halloween party that Toji’s friends were throwing a party of the sort so you snagged a date with your co-worker Satoru who walked out of the bathroom wearing a three-piece suit that fit the bill, he looked you up and down slowly with a smile.

“Toji won’t be able to resist you in that.” He commented adjusting his tie, a sly smile played on your lips as you looked back in the mirror smoothing the dress down and feeling a flutter of butterflies flap in your belly.

A huge payload was promised if you could actually get the job done, Toji knew that a price tag hung on his head but he’s very cunning and swift on his feet and incredibly smart which drew you to the job in the first place because you’re just the same, if not even better.

You grabbed the lace masquerade mask and tied it around your head.

“Are you ready Satoru?” He nodded his head and you followed him out of the hotel room towards the elevator where you two rode down, as soon as you stepped into the lobby your senses were on high alert, being an assassin never ended, and neither did living in hotels or unfavorable places to make sure you got your job done.

He opened the limo door for you so you slid in first followed by Satoru. Thankfully the ride went silent as you thought of your plan on how to seduce him, once you got a few plans mastered you put on a bright smile when you stepped out of the limo. Satoru held your hand while you carefully avoided any pictures being taken of you.

“Why not just sneak through the back?” You asked annoyed with the flashing and loud crowd of people.

“Because you don’t just sneak into a Ball at the Fushiguro’s,” Satoru said still smiling, you rolled your eyes and then finally reached the top of the stairs where two guards wearing white tuxedos opened the door so two could step in making sure no unfavorable people were trying to sneak in.

Classical music could be heard from almost every corner and people dressed in all sorts of classy costumes walked around making you pat yourself on the back for not choosing something flashy like them, the last thing you wanted was more than just your target's attention.

Satoru led you further inside until you found him.

He stood closer to the corner with a glass in his hand, you sucked in a breath not realizing how handsome Toji really is, sure you’d seen pictures of him at a far distance when you stalked him to gather more information but seeing him this close made something deep inside you clench, Satoru took notice and walked towards Toji and the group of men, this isn’t the time to get all flustered and embarrass yourself you thought so you put on a dazzling smile.

“Satoru! How have you been?” Toji asked when we got closer and that’s when you noticed the small dark red devil horns nestled in his dark hair, oh fuck. His teeth shone when he talked and you could see his sharp canines gleaming under the light and that scar held a story you wanted to read.

“I’ve been doing good, work keeps me busy. And you?” You stopped listening to the conversation and looked around silently then Toji turned his attention to you.

“And what’s your name beautiful?” It took everything inside of you not to roll your eyes, you gave him your name which he repeated. He took one of your hands shooting a bolt of electricity down your arm and straight to the pool of desire, he kissed the back of your hand and smirked at you, his emerald eyes trained on your face.

Pulling your hand away you tucked it behind Satoru and smiled warmly. “I’m going to go get something to drink.” You whispered in his ear, he nodded and you left the group and walked around the dance floor straight to the bar where you got a flute of champagne leaving it in your hands, turning around you watched people slow dance and giggle, clutching the flute harder in your grasp you made conversation with the man next to you so you didn’t seem too suspicious.

Part of your brain listened to the man nodding and responding when it was appropriate and the other part on high alert and that’s when you saw Toji dancing with a woman dressed similar to you, his hand dangerously low on her back.

He whispered something in her making her giggle as she threw her head back. Rolling your eyes you walked around looking for Satoru to see him buried in his mission, he stood next to a gorgeous blonde sweet-talking her so you busied yourself by going back to the bar to grab another flute.

“Might want to take it easy,” Toji said next to you suddenly, looking over you saw the evil grin on his face while he leaned over the bar, he gripped a glass of what’s probably whiskey in his hands, his thumb rubbing the edge.

An image of his thumb rubbing something else popped into your mind.

“It’s not like I’m driving tonight.” You countered taking a sip.

“Well, how about a dance then?” He asked straightening up, he abandoned his glass and held his hand out for you to grab, the pulsing need for him took over your body, but he didn’t let on he knew as he tugged you to the dance floor.

A soft classical song began to play as his hand rested on the small of your back, his other hand held your hand in the air while your other hand rested on the back of his neck, and his soft hair tickled your hand. “I didn’t think a man like you would have music like this.” You said out loud, Toji cocked his head and looked at you.

“A man like me?” He quipped.

“You know, political. Usually, those types get caught with their hands in the cookie jar so to say, so something this beautiful to be played in unheard of.” You replied with a snarky smile.

“A cookie jar, huh? I usually prefer,” He leaned closer and whispered in your ear, “a skirt, or a dress. It doesn’t matter to me.” He pulled away gauging your reaction which disappointed him a bit.

“Also, classical music is said to be the perfect genre to commit murder, and what’s better to have a murder on Halloween?” He raised an eyebrow and that’s when you realized that he had moved you two closer to the edge of the dance floor, just as the crescendo sounded he pulled your leg up, holding it against his waist, and he let go of your hand, then he grabbed the back of your thigh, once he felt the small dagger he clicked his tongue.

“What a sad attempt but let’s make a deal.” He mused grinning.

Those devil horns suited him.

“A deal?”

You couldn’t believe you were caught, a wave of disappointment and anger washed over you, all the training and recon had failed.

“You come to my room and I won’t kill you.” He offered with a smile.

A laugh bubbled from your lips, “Are you serious Fushiguro? Now that you know I’m here to kill you is that where you really want to go?”

“Yes, and I know it’s where you want to go as well. As soon as I saw you I could almost smell your arousal, that sweet scent settled over me. Think of it as bloodlust but remove the blood, unless that’s something you're into?”

“Cocky for a man who’s about to die.” You shot back, he let go of your leg and turned to a hallway close to where you two stood.

“Mhm?” He nodded his head, looking around the room you followed him down the hall, your high heels clicking against the marble floor. After passing a few doors he stopped abruptly and opened the door to reveal a large bedroom, he walked in and you followed.

As soon as he shut the door he removed his jacket, “In exchange for your life you’ll let me have you for the night, sound good?” He asked while unbuttoning the cuffs on his wrists to roll the white sleeve to his elbows which only made him ten times more attractive, he looked at you like a lion, and you were the antelope.

Lust flared up licking your body as you shed your mission of the night all though you knew what was to come but you wanted this just as bad as Toji did as well, you’re one of the most beautiful women he’s ever seen.

“Just for one night?” You asked looking around the room as Toji nodded.

After the agreement you wasted no time closing the distance between you, his arms wrapped around your back while yours went around his neck, his lips met yours hungrily, nothing about this was romantic or sweet and it wasn’t like you wanted to make love with him.

You opened your mouth fully expecting to meet Toji’s tongue but instead, you felt his lips still pressed together. You pulled away seeing your lipstick smeared against his mouth, a deep dark red staining his pale flesh.

His thumb jerked against your bottom lip, “What a pretty color. I want to see it around my dick.” His voice was laced with a husky drawl.

His vulgar words sent another bolt of hunger through you, and without a second thought you sunk to your knees on the hard floor, Toji stood over six feet so he craned his head to watch as you undid his belt, then unbuttoned and unzipped his slacks, pulling them down to his knees watching as you palmed his erection, his cock long and thick, when he jerked his boxers down your eyes and mouth went slack.

“Be careful, with an open mouth like that you might attract flies.” He teased, opening your mouth more you sucked in the engorged head and licked, at first you focused on the tip but soon his entire length disappeared in your mouth, his moans rang heavenly in your ear as you pulled back but his hands grabbed a fistful of your hair ultimately ruining the style you worked on and removing your masquerade mask but at this point, you didn’t care.

With a thrust of his hips, you were swallowing him whole making you begin to gag and try to breathe, “Through your nose.” Toji commented watching you struggle, you inhaled and exhaled against his skin as his sack rested against your throat.

“Good girl.” He praised in a sweet voice, your head began to bob up and down but it wasn’t fast enough for Toji so he stopped you and started to throat fuck you, tears mixed with mascara streamed down your face giving Toji a sick satisfaction so much that his breathy moans kicked up a notch and so did his words.

“Such a good little cock sucker.”

Wet gagging reverberated throughout the room as you deep-throated him nuzzling your nose in the curly hair surrounding the base of his cock that hit the back of your throat leaving a bulge straining against the flesh.

You worked your mouth over him kissing down the length of him before kissing his heavy and swollen sack that throbbed as you rolled it between your hands gently while sucking the swollen tip sultry.

Between the warm tight confine of your throat and the tears, he felt his orgasm coming hot and ready, and his cum spewing in your mouth, just as you were about to swallow he withdrew from you.

“Open.” Opening your mouth he smiled seeing his cum on your tongue, leaning down he spit in your mouth which only amped his satisfaction up by a few more notches.

“Swallow like the little cum slut you are.”

With no choice, you swallowed and it wasn’t like he was wrong.

He pulled you away by your hair and helped you up to your feet quickly.

You wiped your swollen lips, Toji watched in primal interest, “Now it’s my turn to taste that sweet cunt.” He looked at the bed, turning around you walked over to it and sat down on the edge letting him push you on your back and sink to his knees where he opened your legs then he inhaled deeply and growled.

His fingers hooked in your panties and tore them from your body drawing a protest from your lips.

“Ah, ah, ah. Remember that you’re mine for the night.” Toji reminded you when you sat up ready to chastise him for doing so.

He was quick to bury his nose against your cunt, his tongue darted out licking a wide stripe over you. He hooked his arms under and over your thighs pulling you closer to the edge, his expert tongue found your clit teasing and sucking, and the warmth spread over you like a blanket.

“Toji!” You whined, hearing his name spill from your pretty mouth made his cock stiffen again, to him you were the sweetest fruit he’s ever tasted before and he wanted more so he thrust two fingers inside, and instantly your walls sucked him in deeper.

You moaned feeling your orgasm about to rip you apart, with the final thrust of his fingers you came on his tongue which only served to embarrass you more coming so soon and Toji couldn’t get enough so he kept lapping at you.

“Wait-Oh God-I’m too sensitive!” You cried but it fell on deaf ears as Toji circled your swollen clit, his fingers found your g-spot and rubbed bringing you yet again to another earth-shattering climax.

Sure you’ve had plenty of orgasms with other partners and yourself but being with Toji filled a hole in you that you never knew you needed, he brought two eye-crossing orgasms to you in less than three minutes. He tasted you again, his cock so stiff that it hurt, it began to throb and leak pre-cum all over his floor.

“One more time, yeah? Cum for me again and I’ll fuck that stupid sweet little hole of yours.” Toji said, to you, it almost sounded like he was begging to taste you again so you opened your legs further apart, the overstimulation began to blur the line between pain and pleasure while he brought you to your third orgasm.

A scream tore from your throat and your toes curled, Toji pulled away and licked his lips cleaning the remains of your cum. “Scoot back,” He demanded roughly.

He laid on top of you using his hands on either side of your head to hold his weight up, a split second later he thrust his cock inside of you.

A moan spilled from his lips, he’s been with other women but something about you brought him to the edge, your body responded to his so well and you’re so tight that he had to pull out and ease back in, using one hand he ripped the front of your dress down freeing both breasts with a deep grunt, even your tits are perfect to him.

He palmed the supple flesh and leaned down to suck your nipple in his warm wet mouth, he had to break the eye contact otherwise he’d want to keep you here a lot longer than one night. His pace switched between fast and slow stoking the fire deep in both of your bellies, his hair tickled you while he moaned against your breast, slick flesh slapping against flesh, and loud moans drowned out the music that poured from under the door, pants and heavy breathing roared in your ear.

“You feel so fucking good.” He muttered.

“You’re my little-damn it-slut, huh?”

“I’m going to fuck you stupid.”

He gasped when your walls contracted around his cock.

“Yes, that’s it. You feel fanfuckingtastic.”

He panted in your ear, you gripped his shoulders and felt your fourth orgasm rise, both of you grunted as you creamed around his cock leaving a creamy ring that twitched finally as he came, seeing stars behind his eyelids filling you to the brim with hot thick cum.

“Fuck,” He panted but he wasn’t done. He pulled out of you watching the pearly essence drip from you in globs that stained his silk sheets.

“Hands and knees.” He demanded.

“My dress.” You replied because you didn’t want to ruin it, he got off the bed and began to tug the fabric off tearing it at the seams.

“Toji!” You cried angrily.

“I’ll buy you a new one.” He grunted, he took his white button-up off leaving both of you naked, as he stared down at your body and he couldn’t stop the words that spilled from his mouth.

“You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, damn.” His compliment made your cheeks flush with a heat and your hands went to cover your breasts.

“No, don’t,”

He wasn’t one to give out compliments but with you, something inside him snapped turning him into a different person.

You watch him walk over to his pants and grabbed his belt, once you got in the position he got behind you. He fisted his cock and ran it up and down your slit gathering a mix of yours and his cum, eliciting a moan from you as you tried to push back against him.

“Lay down and put your hands behind your back.” Following his instructions, you lay face down and put your arms behind your back. Toji wrapped his belt around your wrists making makeshift handcuffs, he pulled back and thrust inside of you.

Both of you cried out in pure bliss.

“You’re such a good girl taking me like this and listening to me.” He grunted fucking you with no mercy.

With his free hand, he stuffed two fingers in your mouth which you began to suck on, swirling your tongue around his digits. “Drooling for me to just fuck you stupid, huh?” He asked, you could only moan your answer at this point because he’s bringing his word true, he’s fucking you stupid.

His hips slammed against your ass, he leaned down to cover your back with his chest, his teeth grazed your shoulder and you felt his sharp canines sink into the soft flesh. “Cum with me.” He softly demanded.

Your fifth orgasm pulled Toji into his third one of the night, “Toji!” You mumbled against the soft blanket.

“Yes, pet?” He cooed shocking both you and him.

“I don’t know if I can handle any more.” You confessed, Toji quickly pulled out and removed his makeshift handcuffs.

Helping you up from the bed he walked to the large bathroom inside his room with you under his arm, he sat you on the edge of the tub as he turned on the warm water.

Once it was filled he added a few drops of oil, while it seemed mundane he’d never done this for any woman in his life, he looked over at you and your smeared makeup.

Dipping a small washcloth in the warm water he began to remove the caked makeup from your face, your eyes met his feeling your heart flutter.

He climbed in first and had you sit between his legs while he washed and massaged you, “I have never had so many orgasms in one night, much less that intense.” You admitted, Toji smiled to himself and kissed your shoulder.

“After this what do you say you stay the night?” He asked hopeful, he wanted to wrap you in his arms. Again, something he refused to do with other women but after being with you he wanted it so bad, craved it.

“Only if I can have the right side of the bed.” You said making him chuckle.

“Of course.” He replied with another kiss.

#tw: degradation #tw: alcohol #tw: murder #Toji smut #Toji x reader smut #Toji Fushiguro smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader smut #toji x you smut #toji x yn smut #fushiguro toji smut #jjk x reader #toji x reader #fushiguro toji x reader #toji x you #jujutsu kaisen smut

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system-to-the-madness · 6 months

Text

My Cards - Spencer Reid x Reader

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader (can be read as any gender, no pronouns used) Genre: angst to fluff, hurt/comfort Word Count: 2 916 Warnings: mentions of canon-typical violence (abduction, murder), mentions of drug use in the past Summary: At the day that Spencer is clean for eleven years, he decides it’s time to show you his cards. A/N: I've got a few asorted fics that I've writen ages ago, and will publish one after another (might sprinkle some anime and soc in between). Sorry for that already. If you want to block a certain fandom: the tag to blog is #mad (fandom shortcut) for criminal minds, that would be #mad cm

13 years. That’s how long Spencer Reid was your colleague already. Actually – he would correct you – it had been 13 years, 1 month, 2 weeks, 5 days, 14 hours, 7 minutes and approximately 26 seconds.

You were not sure for how long he had been your best friend. Probably 12 years. Spencer would not have been able to answer that question if you had asked him. After all this time he still sometimes struggled in accepting that there was someone he could call whenever, literally whenever he needed someone.

You had been with him through thick and thin, had been there for him after he had been abducted by Hankel, had comforted him, when he had cried for Hotch and Jack after Hayley had been murdered, had talked until the early hours of the morning after Emily had supposedly died. You had never been further than a phone call away, had never complained when he called you in the late hours of the night because he had had another nightmare, had cooked him tea or watched trashy soap operas with him when he had felt down.

He wondered if he had ever paid you back enough. Whether the few times you had called him after a nightmare or a traumatic event or a bad case would ever be enough to make up for what you had given him. With you around, his flat felt like a home, with you on the other end of the sofa he did not worry about the shadows lingering in the corners of the room.

He felt like a pervert for the many times he had asked you to share a bad with him, so he could fall asleep more easily. Every time, without fail you had climbed under the covers with him, maybe even wrapped your arms around him and stroked his back, lulling him to sleep. He hated himself for all the times he had reached out a hand while you were sleeping, to feel if you were really there, if your skin was warm, your chest lifting and lowering with even breaths.

People often liked calling him a genius, but it had taken him many years to figure out that somewhere along the line he had fallen in love with you after you had prevented his complete self-destruction over Maeve‘s death. He felt guilty for it, for having fallen in love with you while you had helped him grieve another woman he had loved, and somewhere in his heart still did. One night you had told him, that he would always carry the people he had once loved in his heart. He had asked how it would ever be possible for someone to accept him if a part of him still loved someone else. You had shrugged at that and answered, that this person would have to understand that we are made off who and what we love, that this way Maeve had become a part of him, which this person would love too, if they loved him. He had nodded at that, and wondered if you could ever love him.

When he had first realised his feelings for you, he had thought his heart wanted to numb itself by making up emotions for you to forget about Maeve, but after years he felt just as strongly about you as he had back then, and he came to the conclusion that maybe he had always loved you, deep in his heart.

12 years. That’s how long you had been friends with Spencer. And yet you had the distinct feeling, that tonight was different, that tonight was not his usual call for comfort. He had been nervous, when he had asked you if you wanted to come back to his place after work, and he had never been nervous around you before.

Now you stood in his living room, your shoes kicked off next to the door, just like his, your jacket on the coatrack, half covered by his. Usually you had no trouble to make yourself at home, but Spencer’s behaviour, his nervousness, made you feel like this was the very first time you had stepped into his flat, so you stood in the living room, fiddling with your fingers, while Spencer was searching for something in his bedroom.

When he emerged back into the living room, he tossed you something, which you barely caught. Confused you turned a coin in your hands, the dim light not allowing you to read the lettering immediately, but then you made it out.

“10 years?”

You held up the coin to take an even closer look, but other than that, and a small symbol, you could not find anything else edged into it.

“Is that a sobriety coin,” you asked, handing it back to Spencer, who took the coin back and let it wander through his fingers.

“It is,” he nodded, letting the coin disappear into seemingly thin air, presenting his empty palms to you before he sat down on the sofa.

You tried thinking back to ten years ago, and what had happened back then. Somewhat over eleven years ago Hankle had kidnapped him-

Spencer seemed to have interpreted your focused expression correctly, because without further prompting he explained.

“Dilaudid. Hankel injected me with it repeatedly. I- I developed an addiction.”

For a long while you looked at him as he was fiddling around with the coin again. You had always suspected that there had been a phase soon after the Hankle incident in which something had been off. You had basically lived at his place for half a year, since he had called you every night, asking you to come over. You had never hesitated to do so, your desire to comfort your friend also driven by the worry he might do something stupid. Like give in to an addiction. You should have confronted him about it, should have asked. Actually, you had thought about it, countless times, but always come to the conclusion, that he would only deny everything and shut himself off. You had let him suffer on his own, he had never, until today, felt comfortable enough to tell you about it. Maybe you could have helped him. Maybe-

“Actually, it’s eleven years today,” he suddenly said, and lifted his head to look at you. The coin was, once again, gone. “I just… I wanted to spend today with you, instead of going to a meeting.”

“I-”

The voice died in your throat at Spencer’s soft, lopsided smile, the smile he always gave you when he knew exactly what you were thinking, but also knew it was wrong.

“You think you should have said something back then, don’t you?”

You nodded quietly and watched him lean back into the cushions.

“Would you believe me if I told you that you’re the person, who actually helped me to get clean?”

He chuckled at your furrowed brows and patted the space next to him on the sofa, but you remained standing, rooted in spot. You had no right to sit next to him, to be here in his apartment, to be anywhere near the man you had let down knowingly.

“You left a flyer here once, for the community centre,” Spencer explained.

You remembered the flyer. You had spent hours upon hours looking up drug addiction in law enforcement until you had come across a newly funded self-help group in a new community centre not too far away from his flat. After work you had driven by there and picked up a flyer, which a couple of days later you had put onto Spencer’s table, telling him you were interested in one of the pottery classes, and if he wanted to go with you. The advertisement for the pottery class had been right underneath that for the self-help group and been your boldest attempt at ever confronting him.

“Without that flyer, I never would have had the courage to get help,” Spencer confessed. “Other than you, of course.”

“What did I do,” your voice almost was not loud enough for him to hear, drowned by tears that now also blurred your vision. “I just left you alone, I-”

“You always came when you called,” he explained, “I wanted you over as much as possible so I wouldn’t have time for the next fix. I- well I practically used your compassion to get clean.”

“Why did you never tell me?”

Spencer’s smile slowly died, and he pressed his lips together, a clear sign that he knew the answer but felt uncomfortable sharing it.

After a moment of deafening silence, he answered. “I was scared you’d be disappointed in me.”

“Disappointed? Spencer I could never-”

“It was easier to believe that than to accept the truth, that there really might be a person who would care for me either way, no matter how much I fucked up,” he confessed. “It’s still- I still struggle to accept sometimes that you are always here for me. Like… nobody ever really cared about me, other than my mum, and yet… you’ve been here every time I needed you, for years.”

“Not every time. I should’ve-”

“Every single time. And I just can’t understand why you would do that to yourself.”

“Because you’re my friend, Spencer. And I wanted to help you. Just like you helped me, too, when I needed help.”

“When did I help you?”

“You were the first one to check in on me whenever I had to shoot someone. You always make soup when I’m sick, you come over when I have nightmares, or am just lonely. You take me out to movies when I whine about not having a social life, you read me to sleep, sometimes for hours. Do you even realise how much you helped me all these years? Without you I would’ve quit the BAU a long time ago, but with you I can face the demons.”

Spencer looked at you, really looked at you. The soft orange light of the reading lamp beside the couch made his brown eyes glow like ambers. Neither of you turned away, just blinked occasionally. You wanted to tell him, then and there, that you loved him, that you had loved him for years, but you figured that there were some truths your friendship could not withstand. Maybe Spencer had felt that way about his addiction the whole time too. You wondered if there would ever be a time where you could tell him ‘hey Spencer, actually back then, I was totally in love with you and thought I’d spent the rest of my life with you’, and then you’d laugh about it. You blinked the thought away.

“Why did you tell me now,” you wondered, being the first to break the silence.

“I figured, after eleven years, it’s time to tell someone. So tonight I’m showing you my cards.”

“Cards? Plural?”

“There is one more thing.” Spencer got up from where he had been sitting on the couch, but did not step closer while your thoughts were reeling.

One more thing. Another secret he had never told you. Had he been diagnosed with schizophrenia? No, statistically he was too old for that. Dementia? His mother had it, and sometimes even young people got diagnosed with it. No, probably not, you would have noticed. Was he leaving the BAU? Did he have cancer?

“Whatever world ending scenarios you’re coming up with right now, it’s none of that, I promise you,” he spoke quietly. You hated how well he knew you. Well, not hated, but.. well.

“Is it bad,” you asked, watching how he started fiddling around with his hands again. He suddenly got nervous.

“I don’t know,” he answered, his voice a little higher than before. “It depends, I guess.”

“On what?”

“You.” His answer made your heart sink. “But things will be different, no matter what.”

“I don’t want things to be different,” you shook your head, silent panic rising in your chest. “I like the way things are now.” Quickly you took a few steps across the living room right to him and grabbed one of his hands. “I don’t want things to change!”

“And I don’t want to keep secrets, so please let me be honest.”

For a moment you looked at him, at his beautiful brown eyes, which had brought you comfort for so many years, at his wild, brown curls, at his dress shirt and the loosened tie, and the soft cardigan, and then his eyes again. If you allowed him to speak, you might lose everything you had had with him. He had been your anchor, long before you had developed feelings for him, but now that you had, you wanted to fight, so you did not have to give him up.

But he was his own person. Earlier or later, he would tell you. And he had said whether that secret was bad or not depended on you, so you needed to be ready to accept what he was about to tell you, just like that time your high school crush had confessed to you that he was gay and you had ended up with setting him up with his crush. They were married now. So, whatever it was-

Slowly you nodded, and Spencer’s previously tense features softened slightly. His eyes skipped over your face, making you feel strange self-aware, and his fingers tightened around yours, from where you had taken his hand; a comforting squeeze. Carefully he shuffled closer and bent down. For a moment you thought he might kiss you, but of course he would not do that. Yet he did not lean to your ear either. He just looked at you for a moment, making you hold your breath.

“I’m in love with you,” he whispered, his breath fanning over your lips hotly, “That’s my last secret. I’m in love with you and have been for the past three years. What you do with that information is now up to you.”

For a moment you did not move, did not dare moving, just stared at him with your heart hammering in your chest. You were an excellent profiler, had studied human behaviour for soon 20 years, had learnt to recognise what lying looked like. Spencer was not lying. Maybe you were dreaming, but even then-

A flicker of your eyes to his lips was all it took for Spencer to lurch forward and close the remaining distance between your lips. He was not gentle as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you in, but rather desperate, desperate to finally feel you as close as he had always dreamt of, desperate to taste your lips and feel your breath. Hoping to find anything to hold onto, you wrapped your arms around him too, slid one hand into his fine locks, the other gripping tightly into his soft cardigan.

Kissing him was nothing like you had imagined it to be, but so much better. He was careful and yet demanding, and he slipped his tongue over your lips and into your mouth, gentle but unrelenting in the way he held you, walked you back to the couch, where he slowly lowered you down, before sitting down next to you, never breaking the kiss. Faintly you felt his heartbeat in his lips and under his skin, hammering hard, testimony of how much he had wanted this. And with each touch of his, your own guilt over the feelings you had developed for him slowly melted away and left nothing but hot, searing love in its path.

Only when you were out of breath, lips red and swollen, cheeks hot, did you pull away, gently shoved against Spencer’s chest, who was still trying to chase your lips. His eyes were wide and glassy as he finally met yours, still completely entranced, and yet confused as to why you had pulled away.

“Enough,” you commanded with shivering voice and a smile on your face, “enough, I need air.”

“Oh,” Spencer mumbled, and you could pinpoint the exact moment he started building up his walls, already searching for an excuse to explain what just had happened.

Not wanting to allow this, you quickly grabbed his face in your hands, and forced him to look at you. His cheeks were hot, and his eyes danced around uncertainly, before finally resting on yours.

“I’m in love with you too,” you whispered, and leant forward to peck his lips, before quickly hiding your face against his neck. You barely saw his look of doubt turn into that of surprise before a smile took over his face.

“Oh,” he repeated, and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer against his chest. He smelled divine. Like safety, like home.

“Can we just stay like this forever,” you asked, you voice muffled against his skin.

“Actually-” from his tone of voice you could tell he would doubtlessly tell you how long it would either of you approximately take, until one of you needed the bathroom or something to eat, but then he stopped himself. “Yes.”

You chuckled against his neck, causing a shiver to run through him and goosebumps to rise on his arms. Gently you brushed your lips against his skin, not getting enough of how soft it felt. Forever was probably not long enough.

You had been colleagues with Spencer for 13 years, his best friend for 12. But from tonight on you also were his lover.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x yn #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #criminal minds x yn #tw: drugs #tw: violence #tw: death #tw: murder #tw: abduction #mad stories #mad cm

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