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freedomfireflies · 7 months ago

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Our Place*

Summary: An extra for 404*

The one where Harry invites you back to his apartment for the first time and it doesn't go as planned.

Word Count: 1.7k

Content Warning: 18+, smut, breeding kink, angst (happy ending), use of a safe word

Harry’s apartment is nicer than you expected.

The furniture is cozy, the décor is unique, and his bedroom is well kept. He even has fresh flowers on his kitchen table.

It surprised you, even though it shouldn’t. Harry doesn’t seem like a dirty guy, but truthfully, you were still shocked to find he had both sheets on his bed and no clothes on the ground.

You take in the tiny details of his life as he kisses down your neck and slips his fingers into your jeans. He’d wrangled you onto the bed only seconds after you walked through the door. He didn’t want to give you a tour of the whole apartment. Just the bedroom. Which you were more than all right with.

He’s oddly desperate, given the circumstances. Maybe he always is, but tonight feels different. Tonight feels…hopeful.

“Shit, Tink,” he groans into your ear when he feels how wet you’ve become. “S’this just because you rode my bike?”

You gently swat the back of his head. “Stop it.”

“What?” He noses under your jaw. “Felt you squirming back there, Princess. Did you really think I wouldn’t notice how you were trying to get yourself off to the vibrations?”

You wince. You didn’t even realize you’d been doing it. “I was not, I was just…the adrenaline was a lot—”

“Uh-huh.” He laughs and something about it sounds like honey. “S’fine, baby. You know I don’t mind.”

“Well…I wasn’t—”

“Sure. Can I fuck you now?”

You huff. “That’s why I’m here.”

He rips your jeans down your legs, tossing them over his shoulder and somewhere onto the floor. The warm air feels good and it’s then that you realize he’s right. You’re soaked, all the way through your panties.

But instead of taunting you further, he only tugs them aside and pulls his cock out.

“I think…” he murmurs as he lines himself up, “…it’s high time I got you pregnant.”

Your mouth falls open in a moan as he drops a glob of spit onto your clit and pushes in.

You’ve noticed that his breeding kink makes an appearance more often than not these days. Which you aren’t exactly complaining about. After all, you have one, too. Mostly thanks to him.

But it surprises you all the same as he starts to work himself in and out of your tight cunt, whispering the filthiest promises.

“Think I won’t do it, hm? I will. Swell this pretty belly with my cum. S’what it was made for, wasn’t it? To take me. Have my babies. Gonna stretch you so pretty…get your tits leaking. You’ll let me have a taste, won’t you, Princess?”

You try to respond but how can you? You feel as though you’ve been fucked dumb. Unable to hear anything past the pounding of blood in your ears.

His glasses start to slip down his nose. He almost always takes them off—they’re mostly for reading anyway. But you like the look of them. Like how studious it makes him seem...how scandalous.

So, you nudge them back up. Desperate to see him exactly the way he always is.

He smirks. “You all right there, Tink?”

You nod weakly. “Yes…yeah. M’fine.”

“Thinking about what I said?” He kisses down your chest. “Thinking about calling me Daddy for real? Having our babies?"

Our. A word you didn’t think belonged to you. Because Harry doesn’t belong to you. And you don’t belong to him. You’re two separate people. Even when you fuck, he’s in his world and you’re in yours. You weren’t meant to be an “our.”

You chalk this up to a slip of the tongue. Something you say when you're threatening to breed someone. And you choose not to give it any power. Because you know what happens if you do.

The fucking gets harder. Faster. He’s chasing a high. In fact, he's been chasing it since earlier in the bar when he saw you with another man. And you know he’s trying to hold off for you, but he wants to cum. He wants to paint your belly with his seed and fuck it back in. Wants to make good on his word even if he shouldn’t.

Your nails scratch down his back, damp and covered in sweat. But his muscles feel good in your hands and you whimper as you hike a leg over his hip and bury him in your pussy.

In your lust-filled haze, your attention drifts. Head rolling to the side as you focus on the soft grunts in your ear.

But then, your eyes find something on his dresser.

Your heart stops.

In fact, everything stops. Your breathing, your noises, your gentle rolls to meet his thrusts.

It all stops. And you whisper, “Red.”

He quickly falls still. A rather impressive feat given how anxious he is to find release. From 100 to 0 in only seconds, and you almost feel guilty as you sense him glance at you.

“What’s wrong?” he asks through labored inhales. “What…what happened, what do you want me to do?”

But you don’t look back. You keep your focus on the piece of furniture in the corner of his room and you will yourself not to cry.

Eventually, he looks, too. And when he realizes, the air in the room shifts.

He lets out a soft sigh and drops his hand to your hip. Squeezing it once. “Tink…”

You say nothing. Tears are pooling behind your lashes and your chest feels tight.

“Tink,” he tries again, firm. His grip tightens on your waist. “Tinkerbell—"

“She’s beautiful,” you breathe. You take in a soft gasp. “Oh, my god, Harry, she’s…she’s so beautiful.”

He’s quiet for only a moment. “Yeah. She was,” he agrees gently.

You can’t take your eyes away from the picture frame. The guilt is so much worse now than it was before. Your heart is in your throat, in your ears, lying on the floor next to your jeans.

You shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t be here. In his bed—their bed—fucking the man she died loving. While he promises to get you pregnant and give you his babies.

And how is he so calm? How the fuck is he looking at her picture while still inside of you instead of screaming at you to leave his apartment? How can he be okay with cheating on her with you?

“Princess,” he says again, and grabs onto your jaw to force your focus back to him. “Talk to me, what do you want me to do?”

Your lashes flutter. “What?”

“You said red,” he reminds you. “Which means we stop. But I need to know if you’re in pain or if I can pull out?”

It takes a moment for you to blink the fog from your mind and understand. But when you do, your stomach wrenches. “I…wait, shit, I…I want you to finish, I just…I saw her photo, and—”

“I know,” he interrupts softly. He gives you a gentle smile. “Yeah, I know. I’ve been there. But red means stop. And we’re gonna honor that. No matter why you said it.”

You whimper. “Harry, wait—”

“I’m gonna pull out,” he says, ignoring your plea. “And then we’re gonna talk—”

“Harry…Harry come on, you can’t—”

But he does. Even though he winces as slips himself out, teeth gritting together to keep from coming.

But once he’s out, he delicately closes your legs, and sits beside you. “Okay,” he begins. He keeps your eyes on him. “What’s going on up there?”

He nods at your forehead and you want to cry. “Nothing, I just…I…”

“You’ve never seen her before.”

You shake your head. “I don’t think so.”

“And you weren’t expecting to see her now,” he says for you. “Especially when we were fucking.”

You sniffle. “It felt like we were cheating. Like I was helping you hurt her. And then…and then I got worried that maybe you only brought me back here so you could pretend I was her. You know? With all the stuff about…about babies…and us, and…and—”

“Okay, breathe,” he instructs. He cups your cheek and presses his thumb to your trembling lips. “Breathe, Tink. Slow.”

Forced to obey, you suck in shallow gasps for air until your heart rate slows and your head doesn’t feel so dizzy.

Pleased, he says, “I know you’re not her, Tink. I don’t want you to be.”

Your expression softens.

“I brought you here because you’re the only person I want to see in the place she once lived,” he continues. His voice is strong. Steady. Like he’s given this far more thought than you anticipated. “After she died, I left it the same. I didn’t touch anything. Not the furniture she picked out. Not the dumb, cute little bowls she insisted we buy. Not the coffee pot that doesn’t work but she loved because she swore it made her coffee taste better. None of it.”

The tears fall down your cheeks, fast and without mercy.

“I didn’t invite people over because I wanted to pretend she still lived here,” he tells you. “I wanted it to still be our place. Not just mine. And the thought of bringing someone else back here felt…wrong.”

You grab onto his wrist to keep his hand close and he smiles.

“And then you,” he murmurs, dipping down to nuzzle his nose against yours. A display of affection you’d never expect from him. “And yeah, you’re annoying, and I hate you. But she would have fucking loved you.”

You nearly sob.

“I want you here,” he says. “I want to talk about getting you pregnant and having our babies. I want to fuck you on this bed and I want to make you cry for a very different reason.”

You laugh through the tears.

“Look, I don’t believe in guardian angels and an afterlife and all that shit,” he admits. “But sometimes, I swear she sent you to me. And yeah, I probably should have moved the picture first. That was my fault, I haven’t had anyone in here in a while. But…you’re not her, Tink. You’re you. And that’s exactly who I want you to be.”

You can’t stop the next wave of emotion as you sling your arms around his neck and pull him close. He chuckles in your embrace but doesn’t fight you. He holds you, too. For as long as you both need.

“I hate you, too,” you finally whisper.

He smiles.

“Harry?”

“Mm?”

“…can we please finish now?”

He leans back to see you. “Are you sure?”

“Very.” You kiss him. “After all, you promised to get me pregnant. And I can’t leave until you do, Daddy."

The groan against your lips is delicious and devious.

And it’s everything you’ve ever wanted.

“As you wish.”

WHY DID THIS MAKE ME WANT TO CRY!!! ALSO HI I LOVE YOU GUYS SO MUCH!!

Previous Part:

~ The one where Harry gets jealous (again)

~ Full 404 Masterlist

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin

@justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda

@vamprry @fdl305 @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach

@lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana

@dylanobandposts21 @butdaddyilovehim-hs @itjustkindahappenedreally @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @laelamarley

@myalovesharry @daphnesutton @love-letters-to-uranus @kirstiea05 @lovrave

@nuggetdean @triski73 @finelinesss

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themidnightcrimson · 1 month ago

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all hallow's eve ࿏ wm

summary: in which a bleeding woman shows up to your house asking for more than just help.

words: 8.0k

warnings: blood, dubcon/noncon, fingering, knifeplay, knifefucking, murder, death, horror, gore, top!wanda, fem!reader

this is a dark!fic for 18+ only. minors dni. read with discretion.

There were already chips in the paint of her fingernails which she had painted a thick coat of black only the night before. Wanda liked using her hands—it was a cathartic thing. It only meant she couldn’t keep nail polish on for very long.

In her quiet kitchen, the gentle tink of a spoon again her black porcelain mug could be heard as she gingerly stirred her coffee, watching the cloudy white swirls of creamer fade into the black of her dark roast and turn walnut. She only liked a little bit of creamer. She enjoyed coffee for its depth and dark. Bits of brown splashed around the inner rim of the black mug as she tapped the spoon clean of remnants before gently setting it down in the sink.

Wanda kept a clean house, but her kitchen she kept clean most of all. She was not trained, but she considered herself something of a chef. She enjoyed carnivorous recipes most of all, beefy red ribeyes and delicately roasted chickens. Her kitchen was her wizard lair where she worked to perfect the most complex of dishes, so she kept it meticulously tidy. The clean black marble counters covered lower cabinets filled with pots and pans stacked neatly and drawers shockingly organized with tools and utensils no matter their irregular shape. She made everything fit perfectly because she was a little neurotic about her tools.

Now the kitchen filled with the lusty dark scent of coffee that she sensually inhaled through her nostrils as her ringed fingers clinked against her porcelain mug. The expensive, shiny coffee machine still clicked and steamed from the fresh batch, and it glimmered almost as much as the array of large knives that were set out neatly on the counter beside it. Wanda had also invested in nice lights for her kitchen, because she liked to take pictures of her dishes when she made them. The studioesque lights glared off the silver blades, some freshly sharpened, some awaiting the fate of the honing rod laying discarded next to the line of knives. Sharp knives were also one of the most important tools of a chef.

Wanda maintained the dark minimalist aesthetic of black and white throughout her upscale apartment. Her annual endeavors usually left her with enough cash to get through the year with lavish, hence the nice apartment. Draining a few bank accounts always amounted to more than expected. If she was saving up for something big she would target a nicer area of town.

Through her French windows was the view of the city framed by the bright orange leaves of the autumn tree outside. She had bought a few small baby pumpkins of different colors and shapes and set them along the windowsill. This time of year was always bittersweet. There was always that simmering sensation rising within her that starts near the end of July, when the dead summer heat goes quiet and still with the promise of no new births of nature, only the aging and deadening that future autumn will bring.

Maybe it was the quiet, or maybe it was just her pituitary gland recognizing when it was time for her to awaken, but it always starts at the same time of each year. It was even earlier this year, though. She could feel the first little scritch when the fireworks went off above all the skyscrapers outside her window. It was like the giant booms and bangs shook the thing inside her awake. Now at this point, late in October, it had turned into a ravenous clawing inside her head. She imagined the innards of her skull like a wooden wall caging a wild animal—scarred with desperate scratches to be released. The clawing reminded her of a beast begging to be slaughtered as it is once a year, so that it may enjoy peace and quiet until it starts to conceive itself again like a rebirthing flower.

It gets so hard to manage this late in the season. Usually, she is the most calm and collected person she knows. People compliment her on her otherworldly levelheadedness which they don’t realize is just a lack of emotion. But in September she gets antsy, and in October she is wholly consumed with restlessness and need, constantly zoned out like a lion on the hunt, eyes laser focused for the bright stripes of a zebra amidst the tall African flora, jaw hung wide open, teeth buzzing with anticipation for the first tear of live flesh, ears constantly rounding its skull in search for the sound of food.

Even now, thinking about it as she stared out the window, she let her coffee go cold in her hand. Coming to, she cursed herself and put the mug in the microwave and turned it on. When warmed, she took the mug through her apartment and to her office, settling down in her chair. Her desk was probably the only thing about her apartment that could be considered messy, only because her planning was extensive and elaborate. It had to be for her to have gotten away with it for this many years. Her Octobers were spent stuck at her messy desk which, by the afternoon sun, becomes littered with empty coffee cups.

There were many papers scattered on her desks about many different things. Locations, demographics, news reports, police stations, everything there could be to know about a city. Underneath a stack of papers was another small stack stapled together. “Diagnosis Report.” She had thrown it on her desk carelessly when she took it home from the doctor, miffed that he was only telling her what she’d already known for a long time. “Controlled psychopathy.”

On the other corner of her desk was the most recent news report. “HALLOWEEN KILLER SET TO STRIKE AGAIN.” She’d been waiting for this for years now. She was surprised it didn’t happen sooner.

That was why her planning was deeper this year. Too many patterns in the same city. She needed to branch out, to change it up. She couldn’t complete her mission with cops stationed at every block. They’d even started tracking reports in the outer suburbs. She had to go farther this year.

She rolled out a wide roll of paper over the entire desk: a map of the entire city and its outer areas. Usually, the red circles were drawn on the yellowish vague blocks printed on the map to convey where urban areas were, more concrete and road. This year, her red marker circled farther to the side, almost to the very edge of the paper, where the paper turned green with curly printed lines to signify forested areas.

Wanda ran a shaky hand through her red hair, tugging harshly on the locks. She felt like a mad poet, a tortured artist. It was riskier this year. She wasn’t as familiar with woods as she was with the city.

Letting out a deep sigh, Wanda rolled out of the desk and went over to the little couch against the wall of her office, plopping down with another huff, chewing on all the thoughts in her head that were becoming harder to manage with all the fucking clawing. Lower population out in the woods could mean fewer fish brought home. But it also meant lower income levels than that in the richest parts of the city. Then again, she did pretty good last year and didn’t really need to worry about money this year. If money wasn’t a bias, then it usually would be beauty and females. That was why all the reports were either rich old men or beautiful young women, which made it hard for them to find a pattern. Of course, with women it would take more tactic to get everything she would want out of them besides the main point. The main point would be easy, but the seduction would take more artiste.

Turning her head over her shoulder, she eyed the brand new pair of expensive hiking boots that sat in the corner of the office, the laces recently untightened to let the new leather relax. They were industrial, tactical, ready to climb a mountain. It was the pair of shoes that even the most experienced hikers longed for.

She’d never been hiking a day in her life.

࿏

You’re alone this year.

Sticky green icing melted on your fingers as you picked up the bag of black icing again, piping out little pupils on the Frankenstein cookie you were decorating. Your Halloween playlist played at medium volume through your tiny kitchen as you piped Frankenstein’s black hair on top of his head. Once you had perfected him, even with his messy bangs and uneven mouth, you picked up the sugar cookie and placed it next to other decorated ones which included pumpkins, ghosts, bats, and even graphically disfigured vampires. A delicious aroma in the air emanated from the dish of tomatoes, garlic, onion, and spices roasting in the oven, and on the rack below that, a loaf of bread baking to completion.

“Jeez,” you murmured as you looked at the cookie in front of you that was supposed to be a black cat. One eye was twice the size of the other and its ears were more like Panda ears. You were going for cute, but horrific matched the theme anyways.

It was a cozy Halloween night in your little cabin. Orange pumpkin string lights were hanging from the ceiling, your little space cluttered with your accumulation of Halloween decorations that you just couldn’t stop buying each year. This was another great thing about living so far out in the woods—you could enjoy holidays by yourself without having to worry about catering to bratty little kids asking for candy, or your house getting egged for deciding not to. You had nothing against enjoying the festivities of your favorite holiday, but you were happy you could do it alone without interruption.

Wiping your stained hands free of icing because you had licked so much that you couldn’t take anymore, you slipped on your pumpkin-shaped oven mitts and took the dish out of the oven, feeling warmth on your face as the oil and tomato sizzled in the hot dish. Your kitchen was tiny, but it was cozy, and you could make all your favorite foods in it, so it was perfectly fine to you. And your cabin was small—so small that the kitchen and the living room were basically one room, and you could see the TV in front of the couch from where you stood at the oven. As you very carefully spooned all the tomatoes and garlic and onion out of the dish and into a large red pot that was older than you, you could hear the TV clearly.

Out in the woods, you did not have very good service. The satellite sitting on your roof let you have very few channels, one of them being the local news channel. It was time for the evening news as you heard the familiar theme sound, trying to not let tomato splatter on your Halloween apron that was white donned with black spiderwebbing.

The news channel picked up news from the city, which was a good 30 miles away but the nearest civilization. You halfway listened as they spoke about local events like the highway construction that was branching the city out even farther into the woods, a special on the best places to go trick or treating which was just all the rich neighborhoods, and then they came to the recent crime segment, starting off with one that was the city’s primary worry that night.

“Year after year, our city is faced with crime on this Halloween night that makes celebrating harder each year. For nearly a decade now, the city has experienced killing sprees that happen every October 31st from what locals call the Halloween Killer.”

You opened up your cabinets and waded through the messy piles of pots and pans and tools until you found your old beat-up food processor. The loud clanging muffled the news report that you were listening to with distracted but piqued interest until you found the processor.

“…Police have been unable to find patterns in the killer’s targeted victims or locations, but this famed killer does strike seemingly randomized neighborhoods each year, though they have mostly only targeted areas with higher income levels. Thanks to local funding, police have been able to set up neighborhood watches all throughout the city, even setting up a police line around the border to keep watch of any suspicious activity. Any sightings of criminal or suspicious activity should be reported to your nearest station immediately. For those living outside city limits, please be on high alert, as police think that the killer may start seeking out further areas to evade the local watches. Your local news station sends a huge thanks to our police as they fight to keep our city safe and to track down this Halloween Killer. Please, everyone be safe out there tonight as you enjoy All Hallow’s Eve.” You glanced momentarily to the TV and saw the wide shiny grin of the blonde newscaster that did not match her grim tone as she swiftly moved on to a segment about Halloween party decorations.

At first, the segment about the Halloween Killer started to pass right through your brain, until your brain caught it, and a small seed of paranoia plummeted into the pit of your stomach. You fiddled with your food processor as you thought about the segment.

When you lived in the city, people always talked about the Halloween Killer. At some point, people started to make up their own ideas of what the killer looked like, creating different masks that seemed to change each year. Most of them just settled on a rip-off of Michael Meyers. You always ignored it, until one year the killer struck right near where you lived. That was only a small impetus of why you fled the city searching for a more peaceful life out in nature, but it certainly was a reason thrown in with all the other rising crime rates in the city. It was becoming like Gotham out there, and you wanted no part of it. Hence your cozy cabin life out in the forest.

Still, it made you nervous. You were a young girl all alone. You didn’t have neighbors. If you screamed, it would be to the mercy of squirrels and foxes. And to be fair, though you lived in a forested area and got lucky to live on a plot of land with no other houses, you didn’t live that far from the city. If you climbed the nearby hill all the way to the top, you could see the skyline good enough to track the movement of cars on the city highway. If the killer was trying to escape city limits, all they would have to do was choose East, and they’d be right in your lap.

A shiver ran through you, and you gave a breathy laugh. You’d been watching too many scary movies that Halloween season. It was making you paranoid. This was why each year you chose ParaNorman over Pet Sematary. You were too paranoid of a person.

Though you took your fretfulness with humor, it gnawed away at you. Wiping your hands on the towel on the oven door, you went over to your front door and opened it.

The air was cold that night. Fall had been teasing and tantalizing all month, but it seemed to rush in all at once that Halloween night. That was another thing you liked about living out here—it wasn’t a concrete jungle that trapped in all the heat like the city did. It was cooler out here and less humid. It was just easier to breathe.

You looked up at the dark, shadowy pines that rose so much higher than your squat little house. Their needles rustled in the gentle breeze. It was so dark, nothing like the ever-present source of light in the city. Beyond where your measly front porch light and the flickering glow of jack-o-lanterns on your porch steps touched, it was pitch black. You could hear the whistle of crickets, the belches of frogs all around.

Twigs snapping.

Fear roared up in you at once, but you quickly settled yourself. Twigs snap all the time out here in the forest given that there are twigs littering the whole ground. A pinecone falling, or a bird landing, or a squirrel sitting—it all could snap a twig. You were scaring yourself.

Nonetheless, you pulled yourself inside, closed the door, lock it, turned off the porch light, and closed all your blinds and curtains. Even though you didn’t believe yourself to be at risk, it would be silly to ruin your own night by making yourself scared at the possibility of seeing a face at the window.

You slapped a piece of the bread on the buttered hot pan, deeply enjoying the loud immediate sizzle it made. You followed up with a slice of cheese and another piece of bread, and then flipped the grilled cheese, salivating at the perfect shade of brown the bread turned into.

You ladeled your tomato bisque into a bowl and topped it with some shreds of cheese and one singular basil leaf just to be extra. Bringing your soup and grilled cheese into the living room, you finally settled down on the couch with a sigh, setting your food down on the coffee table before searching for the perfect cutesy Halloween movie to watch. You settled on ParaNorman since you’d been thinking about it.

All traces of the news report had left your mind as you burned your mouth on the soup and did the most immaculate cheese pull with your grilled cheese. You didn’t even think twice when you heard a creaking noise on the front porch.

When you heard it again, you surprised yourself by remaining calm. It was a breezy night. This was an old cabin, and that wooden porch was squeaky. A gush of wind is bound to move the wooden panels enough for it to squeak.

Squeak. It seemed closer now.

You still weren’t worried, but just out of habit, you turned your head and looked back at the front door in the kitchen.

You didn’t really see it at first. Or didn’t recognize what it looked like, at least.

A dark shadow through the sheer curtains over the window of the front door. The perfect shadow for a head and shoulders.

Fear broiled deep in your gut, but you warred with yourself yet again. It was definitely just the way that the moon filtered through all the shapes of the forest trees and landed across the window of your door. That was all it was. You were just being paranoid—the shadow wasn’t even moving.

You’d managed to fully convince yourself and was just about to turn your head back around when there was a knock at the door.

Adrenaline shot through your body so hard that your bowl of tomato soup slipped right out of your immediately sweaty palms, landing with a heartbreaking splash across your shirt.

“Fuck!” you yelled as the hot soup instantly soaked through your shirt and gently burned the skin of your stomach. What was worse about how hot it was, was how sad you were at losing your tomato soup.

The knock came again, much more hurried this time.

“Hello!?” a woman’s voice came from the other side of the door, and the sound of a person’s voice deepened your panic even more. No one had ever been out here except the few friends and family you had invited over a handful of times. No one lived near here. Your dirt road stretched on for three miles before it touched the highway. The dirt road only led to your house, nothing else. It was your own personal driveway. There was no reason for someone to be out here unless beckoned.

And you were all alone. There was no one to glance at with panicked eyes and telepathically ask who the fuck is at the front door. It was just you and your tomato soup-soaked shirt.

“Help!” the voice cried, pounding on the door harder this time, so hard that your windows shook in their panes. “Help me! Please!”

“What the fuck?” you whispered, your breathing picking up as you started to really freak out. Not only was there someone randomly at your door this late at night, but they were apparently in distress? Or at least pretending to be.

“Please! Somebody help me! Please!” the woman screamed outside, and she slammed so hard on the door that it sounded like she was throwing her whole body against it. You could even see the door bulge from the wall, almost like she was trying to break it down.

Rule number one of living out alone in a cabin deep in the forest was to never, ever open your door to strangers. You were way too vulnerable for that. You knew that, and so your instinct was to hide and possibly call the police if she didn’t give up. It could easily be a trick.

Then again, she was screaming for help. She herself was out here potentially alone in the woods, if this was real. What if you later learned that this girl needed help and couldn’t find it from the single house she managed to stumble across?

“Fuck fuck fuck,” you whispered, tugging at your hair as you ducked across the room, hiding behind your little kitchen island. If you made yourself seen, there was no way you could get out of it or even pretend to not be home. “Please open the door!” she screamed with such desperation that her voice croaked, and you heard little sobs follow. “Please just open it! I need help! Please!”

Something about the desperation in her voice panged you deeply in the gut, and for some reason you felt like it wasn’t a trick. Nonetheless, you knew it was bad, whatever it was. She could be running from someone or something and leading them right into your house. The best outcome of this whole thing would be a cruel Halloween prank.

“Please!” she screamed, slamming herself against your front door. You heard a horrible clicking noise that sounded an awful lot like your door coming undone from the hinges.

Internally groaning, you grabbed a knife from your knife drawer and held it as realistically as you could in your hand, slowly going towards the shadow at the front door window.

“Please!” she screamed again.

Gritting your teeth, you gathered all your bravery, expecting anything to happen as you touched the doorknob. With a big breath in, you unlocked it and swung it open.

A scream involuntarily escaped your throat at what stood on the other side of that door.

Seeing a person’s face at your door for the first time in basically months was already a shocking thing, but seeing it covered in blood was even more shocking. The woman stood only an inch or two taller than you, her dark red hair stretching down past her shoulders. She wore a long sleeve white shirt, which you could only tell it was white from the sleeves because the entire front of it was soaked with dark red blood. The blood even caked the thighs of her jeans, and it dripped in long, thick lines down her face, with splatters over her cheeks. The worst part was that the blood glistened against the light that came from inside your home. In fact, it dripped—in horrible black splatters on the old wood of your porch. You could see bloody footprints going up the steps.

For a moment, she looked shocked to see you standing there. Had she started to think no one really was home? The shocked look faded as she glanced over you, her lips seeming to struggle to form words.

“Hi—I need h-help,” she said quieter now, very breathlessly. She was trembling—her eyes looked at you with a crazed, weakened look, like she was about to fall on you at any moment. That was when you realized that she must be bleeding��bleeding a fatal amount.

“Oh my God,” you croaked, not knowing what to do. “What—I—Come in,” you hesitated, and then remembered that whatever cut her up this badly could be following her, so you goaded her. “Come on, come in!”

Quickly, she came inside, leading a trail of bloody prints on your precious wooden flooring as you closed the door and locked it shut. You turned around, pressing your back to the door and staring at her as your heart pounded hard in your chest. You noticed that her eyes were focused on your hand at your side—you looked down and remembered that you were holding a large knife in your hand. “Sorry—” you apologized at first, thinking that she was probably just harmed with the same thing you were holding and wasn’t too happy to see another person wielding it, but remembered to keep your guard up. She could be anyone, and anything could have happened to her. Anything could happen next.

“I need to sit down…” she said, clutching her stomach and bending over. Her eyes, you noticed, were a vivid green against the darkness of the drying blood on her face. “I…” The vivid green disappeared, and you realized she had closed her eyes and was starting to sway.

“Oh God, yes, sit down,” you rushed, absentmindedly dropping your knife on the kitchen counter so that you could help her. Trying your best to avoid touching any blood, you barely held her arm and led her to the couch. She sat down heavily, flickering her eyes to look at you, those green orbs landing at your waist.

“Your shirt…” she whispered croakily.

“Oh,” you blurted as you looked at your own shirt that had an orangeish red splash over the front. “Tomato soup,” you blushed, growing sick at the fact that the red splash on her shirt was, in fact, not tomato soup.

You looked around as this strange woman sat bleeding on your couch, her eyes opening and closing. She was probably losing a lot of blood. What were you supposed to do?

“The police,” you blurted, and her eyes opened wider with a flash. “I’ll call the police!”

You went to your landline phone—there was no cell service up here, so you depended on the weak telephone lines for any kind of communication. You typed in 9-1-1 and pressed the phone to your ear—silence. Confused, you dialed again, only to hear more silence. “What the hell?”

“Water.”

“Huh?” you asked, glancing at the woman on your couch.

“Can I please… have water?”

“Oh, yes,” you said, feeling stupid and rude that you hadn’t even tried to physically help the woman bleeding out on your couch. “I’m sorry—Are-are you okay?” you asked as you went to get a glass of water. It felt like an obviously stupid question to ask, but to be fair, you weren’t entirely sure of her injuries nor her situation except that she was bleeding what appeared to be a lot of blood to you.

“I think so,” she said, coughing to clear her throat as you handed her the glass of water.

You ignored the stains of tomato soup on the other seat of your couch as she sipped the water with a shaky, bloody hand.

“You wouldn’t happen to have a phone on you, do you?” you questioned. It was obvious there was something wrong with your phone, which wasn’t that unusual, and even though there was no cell service the last time you checked, you thought any effort might be worth it to get this girl some help.

She shook her head as she gulped the water down.

Sighing, you glanced toward the curtained window and thought of your car out front. You would need to drive her to help, you realized. You figured you could at least find out what the hell was going on first before you loaded her up in the car.

“What happened to you?”

She finished the glass of water and weakly handed it to you, her eyes flashing up at you. Something about it startled you. Maybe it was the visual connection that jarred you into realization of the situation, or maybe it was because you weren’t used to being around people anymore. Either way, you suddenly felt scared with her eyes on you.

“Someone attacked me,” she hoarsely spoke, wiping her mouth of water only to smear blood around her lips. She gritted her teeth, looking around your house for the first time. You suddenly thought of your knife on the counter.

“Attacked you?” you asked, trying to imagine the situation in your mind. “Do you know who?”

“No, just some guy in a mask,” she exclaimed, sounding like she was starting to calm down and gather her wits. You noticed she wasn’t breathless anymore—in fact her chest rose and fell very slowly and calmly. Maybe she was a good self-soother.

“Where?” you questioned.

“What?” she said, looking up at you with sewn brows.

You hesitated. “I mean, where were you attacked?” You looked towards the window again when she hesitated to answer. “It’s just… you must’ve ran at least like, three miles.”

The redheaded woman only stared at you with her vivid green eyes that you now noticed, with a slight chill in your spine, were oddly empty. Like doll eyes. Like a doll skeleton with human skin stretched over it.

You were starting to feel weird as you tried to explain. “The main road is three miles down that driveway out there.” You vaguely pointed. “Unless you came through the woods. So I was just asking where were you attacked?”

Finally, she blinked. “On the road,” she blurted out. “I was… walking to my friend’s house on the road when this car stopped. And he got out and just… attacked me.” She started to shake again as she looked down at the blood all over her.

But you were still and silent. “Your friend’s house?”

Her eyes met yours, and you could see that chilling emptiness again.

You swayed your weight from one foot to another, trying to think out the entire situation before you spoke. “The nearest house in ten miles is abandoned.”

Her red brows sewed together in confusion, and for a moment you saw, through the blood on her face, that she was pretty. You wouldn’t find it strange for someone to target her.

“I’m confused,” she suddenly sobbed, an illegible cry escaping her throat as she covered her face. “I don’t know what happened.”

A flash of guilt shot through you. This girl is here bleeding out, obviously having just been attacked, and you’re questioning her. Sure, her story didn’t make sense, but you knew if you’d been randomly stabbed in the middle of nowhere, you wouldn’t be making much sense either. It’s possible that she was drugged or kidnapped or all of the above. She certainly didn’t look like she was from around here.

“Hey, hey,” you gently said, starting to reach out a hand to touch her shoulder but deciding against it. She was fully crying now. “It’s gonna be okay. I…” You took a deep breath and tried to be a better savior for this poor woman. “Look, I’ll get you some help, okay? We can take my car and take you to the nearest—”

“He’s following me!”

You stopped in the middle of your sentence. “What?”

“We can’t leave. He was following me as I got away from him…” She slowly turned her face to the window. “He could be out there right now…”

That paranoia boiled within you again. On one hand, you thought it would be better to just risk it to get her the help she needs, but you knew that if someone were lurking out there, it would be just you versus him since this woman was in no condition to defend you.

“The Halloween Killer,” she murmured. “I think it was him.”

Dizziness swirled in your head as your brain shot back to the news report. The Halloween Killer… the police guessed that he would be going out of city limits this year… You imagined the killer taking the nearest highway out of town which happened to be the one you lived by… Seeing a girl on the road… Maknig his first victim of the night… Except that he didn’t kill her. There was no way he would let a witness get away. Especially since she probably saw his face and his vehicle.

“Okay,” you breathed, rushing to the nearest lamp and turning it off. “We’ll wait for a while.” You turned off the kitchen light, the string lights, the range light. “We need to be quiet. If we don’t hear anything in… an hour… we can go.”

You walked back over to her, noticing that she was looking at her stomach.

“Can you wait that long?” you gently asked. “It looks like you bled a lot. Are you still bleeding?”

“I don’t know,” she weakly said. “I can’t tell.”

Biting your tongue, you thought for a moment. If you were going to make her wait an hour, the least you could do was clean her up a little. It was important to clean the wound, and if she was still bleeding, it looked like you needed to put pressure on it as soon as possible before she lost too much blood. You were already surprised she was still conscious with all that blood on her.

“I’ll be right back. Stay right here.”

You left for a moment to get the first aid kit, a rag, and a cup of water, and came back to find her in the same spot, her head leaned back on the couch cushion. Carefully, you sat down next to her with the rag in your hand, dipping it into the water. “We’ll clean you up a little so we know the damage,” you said, laughing at your attempt to sound professional and steady-headed.

“Thank you,” she croaked, turning to face you slowly on the couch. It was completely dark in your cabin now except for the little glare of moonlight that came through the curtains. It felt a little too close, sitting in the dark with her on your tiny couch, and it felt even more close when you started to wipe away the blood on her face with your rag.

“You’re welcome,” you said. “I’m sorry I’m not the best person to come running to for help,” you said with a little laugh.

Her lips curled into a smile, and you felt your heart murmur at how pretty she was. As you wiped away the blood on her face, wondering if she had a head injury to account for her confusion and the blood on her face, you saw that she was actually strikingly beautiful. It made you a little hot, sitting there so close to someone who looked like that.

“Okay…” you said when her face was all clean, now looking at the front of her blood-soaked shirt, hesitating. “Um—”

Without speaking, she rolled up the hem of her shirt to show the flat expanse of her abdomen that was blotted with dark blood. Worried that you would freak out at the sight of stab wound, you very carefully and tensely cleaned away the blood on her stomach, rewetting the rag in the bowl of water which was now murky red.

You always hated how ignorant you could be sometimes.

It wasn’t until you had wiped her entire abdomen clean that it dawned on you.

There were no stab wounds. Not a cut or a scratch.

Nothing felt real suddenly. Confused, you looked up at her.

The deeply malicious look on her face jarred you so suddenly you almost slipped off the couch, stumbling to your feet. Your ankle slammed against the coffee table as you backed away.

Her eyes were staring at you evilly, her lip set in a smirk. You suddenly felt small, tiny, helpless, stupid. So stupid!

“Is this the part where they say trick or treat?” the woman asked now in a gruff voice as she slowly stood up, looking suddenly a lot taller than she did at the door. You also noticed now a bulge in the sleeve of her shirt.

Wanda straightened her arm down at her side, letting the long, bloodied knife slide out of her sleeve, catching the long handle when it touched her palm. She held the knife up expertly, the moonlight glinting off of it.

This was one of her best tricks yet. There’d been times where she had to hide in the closet of the home of a victim, or in the backseat of their car, or she’d even had to follow them several blocks down before striking, but she’d never made herself so intimate with someone she was going to kill before, besides the ones that sparked out of intentional sexual encounters. Wanda had always been more of a grab and slash kind of serial killer, looting their belongings afterwards and moving right on to the next one. But this time, this girl… she was lingering.

You were just so pretty. Pretty girls were Wanda’s weakness, especially when they were vulnerable. And my, how you were vulnerable.

“All alone out in these woods,” Wanda whispered as you both just stood staring at each other, her at your face, you at her knife. “You never thought that one day the big bad wolf would come knocking?”

The fear in your eyes was delectable to her. You’d been so easy to trick. You almost caught her about the friend’s house—she’d been so distracted thinking of all the things she was going to do to you that she slipped up. She blanked.

“Please don’t hurt me,” you whispered, raising your hands up like someone who was just caught by the police for vandalism. “I won’t do anything—I—I won’t tell anyone.”

“I’d hope not,” Wanda interrupted you. “If my plans go accordingly, which they will, which they always do, you will be in no state to do anything or speak to anyone. Ever.” Wanda grinned, chuckling at the way your fingers shook in the moonlight.

The Halloween Killer. You cursed yourself. You also cursed your luck. What were the chances the killer would decide to find you that night?

You realized then that the blood on her shirt was not hers. It was whoever else she had just murdered before coming to you. You were just another life to tick off her quota.

You thought of your knife on the counter. The woman stared at you with a cold, dead look, coupled with the look of enjoyment. She was enjoying this.

You hesitated for a moment before deciding that taking your chances was better than having no chance at all. You jumped over to the kitchen, reached over the counter, and had your fingers on the handle when you felt her warm body slam you against the counter, her hand reaching easily over you and slapping the knife away.

“No!” you involuntarily cried out as you watched the knife slide off the counter and drop to the other side of the floor.

“Bad girl,” Wanda grunted, and you felt the woman’s hands grab your hips. She pressed you harder into the counter, her hips flush against your bottom, grabbing a fistful of your hair and slamming your face down on the hard, cold counter.

“Ah!” you cried as your head slammed into the rock-hard surface, dizzying you. She had you completely bent over the counter, pressing herself into you and holding your head down on the counter with blinding pressure.

“I won’t lie that I like the challenge of putting up a fight,” she whispered, resting her fist that held the knife against the small of your back. “But I’d rather you make it easy for both of us.”

“Get away from me!” you screamed, feeling your cheeks go red hot as your animalistic instincts to survive kicked in.

“Shhhh sh sh,” the woman shushed right into your ear, making you jump at how close she was now, her body laid over on top of yours, her lips pressing right into the soft skin of your ear. “Hush, baby,” she cooed, and the sound made the entire side of your face burn hot. “I’m not going to really hurt you. I’m not that much of a sadist.”

Suddenly, you could feel something really cold on the back of your thigh. The tip of her knife pressed softly into the tender flesh of the back of your thigh, dragging slowly upwards. It caught the hem of your skirt, dragging it upwards and exposing you.

You whined and squirmed, to which she pressed herself harder down on you. The edge of the counter was pressing into your tummy so hard you could barely breathe.

“Now, stop moving, you’ll hurt yourself,” she husked against the space behind your ear, and you shivered at the way your body reacted. You were trembling under her, helpless and confused as the tip of her knife pressed harder into your thigh.

You let out a long cry when she let the knife slice your soft skin, engraving a slash right below your butt cheek.

“Oopsie,” she murmured as she breathed heavily into your ear, her fingers dragging your blood around the back of your thigh. “Sorry about that, you’re just the prettiest one I’ve ever had.” You could feel her smirk against your ear. “I hated how I had to branch out this Halloween, but if I get you, it’s all worth it. I can go right on home—stop moving!”

She grabbed your hip tightly, and your body reacted in the worst way possible. You arched for her, exposing your rear end to her hips even more.

“That’s it,” she said with an air of shock that made you hate yourself. “See? I don’t mind you enjoying it—in fact I want you to.”

Her hand suddenly came down hard on your ass, making you squeak and jump. Your body was hot all over, throbbing against the coolness of the counter, your mind a complete mess.

“Let’s see you,” Wanda said, lifting your skirt fully over your ass to expose it in the moonlight. You felt her finger grab the back strap of your panties and tug them down. Your face grew hot in embarrassment as even you could feel how wet you were. This strange murderer had untapped something inside you that was making you spiral against that counter.

“I knew you were perfect,” she whispered as her fingers touched you, making you jump and whine, swimming in your soaking folds. She laughed against your upper back, her hand roaming over your ass and squeezing it before going back to your pussy, slowly pressing a finger in. You could feel both the blood from the cut and the wetness from your core dripping down your thighs.

Wanda grunted, feeling lost in you. In your fear, your body under hers, the control. This was the best kill she had, and she hadn’t even killed you yet.

“Such a tight little thing, I almost want to keep you.” She pulled out her finger, and you hated yourself for feeling empty because of it. Then you felt something foreign and hard against your entrance, panicking as it pushed into you. She harshly grabbed your hair and slammed your head down again, and that was enough to weaken you.

Your insides throbbed and tingled as she pushed the handle of her knife slowly inside you, grunting at the way you stretched around it. It was a nice knife, thick blade. “You’re taking it so well.”

You squirmed helplessly on the counter, starting to sweat as the woman pushed the knife handle deeper inside you. You could feel it pushing against your cervix, and your legs trembled.

“It’s okay to feel good, you dirty little thing,” Wanda whispered, both a praise and a degradation that made you whimper. You were wordless, mindless, under this killer’s hands and body, and the last part of you that remained subconscious wondered what would’ve happened if you never opened the door.

She pulled the handle almost all the way out before slamming it inside you again. You feared feeling the blade, but you didn’t. She pumped the handle inside you over and over again, soft at first before that clawing inside of her head got the better of her.

“Good girl,” she breathed against the back of your neck, biting into it as she slammed her knife inside you. “That’s it. Stay still.”

You heard a zipper unzip, and the sound of denim shifting, before you felt the warmth of her core pressing into your left cheek. Grabbing the back of your neck with one hand, the other ramming the handle of her knife into your pussy repeatedly, Wanda grinded her clit against your ass, shoving you against the counter over and over again. She was so helpless, so overwhelmed with both intensifying hunger and relief that she just needed to get off. Her cum smeared over the hill of your ass as she rutted herself against it, listening to the wonderful squeaks and whines you made.

“Fuck,” Wanda whispered as she got close, watching the cum-soaked handle of her knife fuck harder into you as she got closer. “Mmmm,” she grunted animalistically as she felt the edge near her.

You clawed helplessly at the counter, your walls spasming around the ribbed handle until finally you couldn’t take it anymore, your hot face pressing hard into the cold, sweaty counter as you came around the handle of her knife. She rutted harder into you as you heard her vague sounds of orgasm, the tip of her knife accidentally making shallow stabs in your inner thighs as she lost control of how she angled the knife.

“Oh fuck,” Wanda breathed as she slowed down, and you were lost under her, your brain far gone and body farther, trembling, thighs bloodied. Wanda hadn’t even noticed that she ripped so hard into the back of your neck that it was bleeding.

Controlled psychopathy. Load of shit.

Pulling out of you, Wanda pulled away and turned your limp body over, looking at your reddened, tear-streaked face. You were such a pretty little thing. A diamond hidden out in the forest. It was a shame she’d stumbled across you that night. If it had been any other night, she would’ve kept you—courted you, even. She could tell you’d make such a good girlfriend to her.

“Well,” Wanda whispered, gently stroking your sweat-soaked hair out of your face. “That was great. I really enjoyed that,” she said softly, almost like a person with real emotions, and for a moment she had almost felt like one.

Controlled psychopathy.

“But I’m afraid I’m going to enjoy this even more.”

The last thing you saw was the flash of her blade as it came down on you.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #scarlet witch x reader #serial killer #halloween #crimsonween #kinktober #marvel #lgbt #lesbian #dark!fic

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theblacklewinsky · 2 months ago

Text

Note: back with our favorite boo, Terry. It's my birthday, but I guess I can gift y'all with something lol! ❤️

Helpful Neighbors. | Aaron Pierre.

Toxic!Neighbor Terry Richmond x Black!Female Reader.

Warnings: MNDI!! this story is 18+ with depictions but not limited to; sexual content ( penetrat!on. toy play, water sports), extreme language (cursing, use of b-word and others.) slight daddy kink if you squint.

Summary: You confront your noisy neighbor about his loud late night company, he allows you to retaliate.

you fucking nasty,

first you cum and then you wipe it on my ass cheeks.

There wasn't much that you knew about your neighbor Terry. You knew he was generally friendly, you bringing him a small housewarming gift of a bath and bodywork's candle when he'd first moved in months prior. You knew he was a vet based on the marines sticker on the bumper of his pick up. You knew he was active, you often seen him heading out for camping trips, often seeing him in the apartments shared gym area when you'd take time out of your busy schedule to get a short work out in. You knew he was gorgeous, anybody could attest to that.

And he was loud. Very fucking loud.

And if you didn't know anything else, you knew that for sure.

The noise varied. Most nights he was particularly quiet, you wouldn't even have noticed anybody lived there if you hadn't seen him before. But some nights, he was a little loud. Metal music from an 80's band bled through the apartment walls, straight into your bedroom, you actually didn't mind it—being an exhausted charge nurse, the metal music did something for you, calming you in a strange way. Him seemingly fixing something, sometimes in the latest hours, drilling, hammering.

But it wasn't any of that. There wasn't any metal music. But he was sure drilling or hammering somebody. And she was extensively louder than anything you'd heard from Terry's apartment. You had to quickly grab your remote, muting your comfort show on your television to make sure she wasn't screaming blood murder.

It wasn't bloody murder, but she was screaming alright. You sighed, it was your first off day in two weeks of working straight in the trauma unit of the local hospital. It'd been a viscous stomach bug going around, and with the big panic from the prior pandemic, the hospital wasn't risking another one slipping up—so work was rough, and long.

But maybe you were bitter? It'd been way too long since you'd properly got your rocks off—not anything involving your beloved rose. So maybe you were just a bit bitter that at least somebody was getting theirs. Good for him! Just not on tonight. Not this night. You'd planned to crawl in bed, eat the most unhealthiest snacks in your cabinet and watch your comfort show, and maybe weep the prior two weeks out onto your pillow, you deserved a good cry after all, girl.

You sighed heavily, placing the pillow over your head letting out a groan. You'd definitely have to catch him in the morning and talk about this, cause this was outrageous.

Maybe sleep was out of the equation, but you'd definitely moved on to weeping.

The morning sprung and you jumped into action. Due to working 7AM to 7PM, you left out for work around the same time as a Terry did his morning runs. 6AM.

You woke up at 5:30 on a mission, brushing your teeth and doing your skincare and putting on your biggest t-shirt, sweatpants to match, oh you meant business.

You caught him as soon as he'd left his door, jogging the opposite way of your apartment toward the elevators before you called out to him. He turned confused at first until he noticed you, giving a lazy morning smile as he did. Black compression shirt, with the pair of black basketball shorts to match. He had no business being so damn fine. But you weren't deterred by that, last night was fucking atrocious.

"Goodmornin', beautiful," he smoothly recited like he did every morning. He was just nice like that. He said it every morning without fail, he always found something to compliment you on. New color of scrubs, how you decided to get your hair, even sweeter when he sees you out of your deliciously fitting scrubs.

"Good morning Terry," you smiled weakly, "I don't mean to disturb your routine, but can we talk for a minute?" You uneasily shifted your weight. You weren't good with confrontation, it just wasn't in your nature, but you didn't play about your sleep.

He nodded and you walked inside still holding the door open for him to signal him to follow you. He did, his smile faltering a bit once he came inside, you could tell he was confused a little thrown off.

You closed the door behind y'all, moving into your large kitchen area to pour yourself a mug of coffee. "Want some?" You politely asked him to which he politely rejected holding up his thermal water bottle.

You added your usual fixings to your coffee, taking a cautious sip, cradling your mug in your hand before you continued. "I don't mean to be confrontational when I say this," you walked around him heading into the living area, plopping on your newly purchased gray plush sectional, " but you were very ...loud last night." You chose your words, nicely.

He featured you a puzzling look, his finger gesturing to the comfortable chair adjacent to you, "of course." You quickly obliged before he took a seat, uneasily continuing. "Your lady...company, I meant." Sex talk wasn't your thing. Sex was sacred to talk about for you—and you didn't want to make him feel uncomfortable at all.

"Oh shit," he softly cursed, his expression filled with slight concern, "I'm sorry, I didn't realize we were bein' so loud, I hope we ain't keep you up."

"Oh, it's not a big deal," you quickly intercepted not wanting him to feel any type of way, "it's just my first day off in a couple of weeks so I just wanted to wind down with some quiet time and you guys were very...vocal," you chuckled to diffuse the awkwardness of the conversation, to which he added a light chuckle of his own, "at least somebodies getting their rocks off around here." You said jokingly before taking a sip of coffee. You hoped that didn't sound suggestive.

A short moment of silence followed your statement before you recognized Terry's eyes locked on something behind you for responding, "I see I ain't the only one gettin' mine," you furrowed your brows slowly turning your attention to where he was previously locked on. Your rose, sitting cleaned and comfortably on your end table.

You really had to learn to start putting shit back.

Or maybe not.

Somehow you found yourself on your back, pinned to the couch, Terry folding you up in missionary, knees to your chest, rose to your clit as he gave you long, deep, torturing strokes. You couldn't even remember the quick and somehow satisfying foreplay you'd taken to get here—and you didn't even care anymore. You could feel the fat tip of his dick kissing your cervix, and as if you weren't loud enough, you got louder. How ironic? You could barely hear yourself think, or were you thinking at all?

"Mhm," he hummed, his face composed, nothing but his teeth lightly sunken into his bottom teeth as he drilled you in, finger tips of his thumb and pointer finger giving your right nipple light squeezes and tugs, he kept his eyes on you, even when they rolled back, quickly turning up the vibrator, "look at you, mama. Why you bein' so vocal? Why you bein' so fuckin' loud, baby?" He taunted.

"My god, Terry," you whined, breathless, he kept up, dick hitting that spot that made your toes curl. How was he so good at this shit? You understood her completely. It wasn't atrocious at all. Very understandable. Very justified.

"Yeah, baby?" He quirked his brow up, his own soft groans almost mocking yours. "You want her to hear you? She still next door, wake her ass up mama. She kept you up all night didn't she?" He asked tearing his fingers away from your nipples to slap firmly against your cheek prompting an answer from you.

"Yessss," you slurred out, throat raw from moaning and groaning. You'd say yes to anything he asked you in this moment. You'd adopt six German kids and live on a farm with him if he requested you to do so in this moment, the world was his oyster. He was digging you out so good, so deliciously good. He was getting more than your rocks off and you knew that when the pressure in the pit of your tummy came weighing down on your bladder. "Ooouuu fuck! Fuck I'm gonna—"

"Yeah," he chuckled, evil all evident in his tone, all in his smile as he glanced down to the mess unfolding between y'all, "wet this dick up baby, I feel that shit." He groaned, eyes zoning in on the creamy ring you were leaving around him. "Wet me up, and you better wake her ass up when you do."

"Cumming!" You abruptly announced nearly cutting him off from his lewd rant, the sounds of your own arousal clashing with his dick sent you tumbling over the edge, clear juices spurting out of you with so much force it ejected him out as well. It only prompted a more lazy laugh out of him, shaking the suction of the rose on your clit even faster. Trembling underneath him, your breath hitched in your throat as he sent you into complete overdrive, your voice was hoarse once a moan came tumbling out of you loud and broken. Why did you cum so hard from knowing that she was next door, possibly hearing you get your nut off with him?

"I like that shit, mama," he mumbled to you, turning the rose off slapping his free hand down on your clit, watching your body jerk in response. He said nothing dipping his body down momentarily to give your soft, sensitive nub three sloppy, mind numbing sucks. He was so loud and lewd with it, smacks loud, tongue slurping loudly. You were too turned on, too sensitive, but too fucked out to even object given how sensitive you were. He stood up on his knee once again, other floor planted flat on the ground. "Sticking up so pretty f'me and shit," he hummed, "put that ass in the air, I'm finna give her some more."

You whined, you were too tired to move. If this was sex? What the fuck were you having before? And he seemed to insatiable, how was he asking you for more when you already so tattered from your last orgasm?

"Can't," you weakly managed to get out.

He took the initiative to help you, his hands firmly grasping your hips and flipping you over roughly, bringing your hips up into the air, spreading out so nicely for him. He moaned in response, looking at how both your holes seemed to open for him. He slapped his massive hand against your ass cheek, the loud sound seemingly filling your quiet apartment, a high wince following behind it, his dick twitching at the recoil. "You gon be a good girl for daddy and hold this shit on your clit while I take care of you back here?" He asked you the dominating reference only furthering the throbbing in your pussy, one hand softly kneading the sting out from his slap. You could hear the quiet buzzing from behind you, head nodding eagerly as your hand reached from under you, making grabby motions for the toy.

Once it was in your possession, you placed it where he asked you, body lightly trembling since your clit hadn't had a moment long enough without stimulation. Both his large hands had been planted on your ass cheeks, spreading you apart for him. He groaned in response, spitting down onto your second hole winking for him so sweetly, you moaned in response to his lewd action. "Fuck yeah," he muttered sending another lighter slap to your ass. No further words were spoken as he grabbed his girthy member in his hands, fat tip rubbing softly against your slit before he stretched you open once again around him.

A loud whine erupted from you as soon as you felt him sliding into you, stretching you, the light sting providing the perfect pain to compliment the pleasure of him literally stuffing you. It was mind numbing for him, feeling you stretch and clench around him so perfectly, gummy, wet walls feeling so warm and snug around him. "Pussy so fuckin' good," he muttered not sure to who, you or him.

His strokes had already started off staggering; hard and deep. Pelvis slamming into your ass with loud, rippling sounds through your apartment, the force literally nudging your couch across the floor. You couldn't care about the scratches you knew were now engrained in your hardwood flooring, everything was so good. Too good.

"Fuckkkk!" You slurred out, eyes fluttering closed, face pressed against the plush cushions beneath you. Brainless wasn't the word for you. You were hyper focused on the pleasure you were receiving, the vibrations from the toy, Terry's back breaking strokes, and the sounds of your arousal around him didn't help the diagnosis. Your free hand held onto the top of the couch for a sense of stability. "Why—why you fuckin' me like this?!" You stammered out through a moan, voice hoarse and broken.

"What you mean, mama?" He asked through a groan, sending another rough slap to your ass. "You such a good girl, you deserve this dick. Workin' all hard and shit, always lookin' so fuckin' good." He grunted, working himself inside of you. Thumb tracing your asshole teasingly. "You deserve some good dick, baby."

The praise only heightened your moans, encouraging you to slam your ass back on him until you felt your own orgasm once again lurking around the corner.

"Show the fuck out, then, baby," he said breathlessly, stilling his own movements as he watched as you fucked yourself on his dick, ass slamming back onto his pelvis with dizzying recoil.

"Shiiiit! I'm finna cummmm!" You moaned out, your movements only increasing in pace, using him for your own pleasure now. And he ate that shit up.

"That's right, get that nut mama. Get yo' shit, fuck me," he affirmed through a series of groans accentuating your own, "fuck, I feel all that shit. Nasty ass bitch, get that nut." His dirty words filling your ears as you released around him, halting your movements. Squirting for the second time, the orgasm hit you like a ton of bricks literally. This one cramped your muscles as it temporarily paralyzed you, huge steaks of pleasure coursing through you. Terry didn't give you a moment to recover, his own climax brewing in the background. He resumed his strokes as if he never stopped, powerful, fast and hard. The rose clobbered to the floor with a hard thud, still buzzing away as your body flattened into the couch, Terry using his upper body strength to drop dick in you.

"You runnin?" He asked breathlessly through a series of overstimulating strokes to your pussy. "Why you runnin? Daddy, let you get yours right? Let daddy get his." He hummed to you.

You couldn't tell him you were overstimulated. Could you talk at all? Were you even breathing? What the fuck even was this?

"Dick got you goin' stupid, look at you," he groaned, dick hitting that spot again, and again. You came again, with announcement. You hadn't even known you were that close again. "Fuck, you keep cummin' on my dick."

Your voice came back to you in little squeals, nodding in agreement to his last statement.

"Pussy so good—I'm finna nut baby," his voice rushed and panicked as he kept up his strokes, "fuck I'm finna nut—shit!" He hurriedly pulled out of you, groans and grunts spilling from him earnestly as warm, ropes of cum painted your ass.

That was so unreal.

You focused on steadying yourself as you heard Terrys whispered curses behind you. It wasn't long before you heard his lazy chuckle, soft lips kissing down your spine causing a small chill to sneak through you. "You good?"

"Yes? I dunno," you answered bleakly, voice rasped out. Terry laughed gently, hands rubbing some warmth into your thighs and midsection.

"You enjoyed yourself?" He asked softly, kissing up to your neck, and shoulder tenderly. You nodded eagerly to his question, earning another chuckle for him. He sounded so good. "I'm glad, where towels at pretty girl. Lemme clean you up."

"Bathroom closet," you jammed your finger in the direction of the closet. You were halfway into a slumber when Terry came back with a warm towel, cleaning you up gently.

You knew for a fact it was gonna be a lot of noise coming from the both of your apartments.

still don't have a tag list together but I hope y'all enjoyed another toxic Terry fic 🫡 my favorite Terry after all! Happy Friday! 💗

#aaron pierre #fine black men #fine as fuck #black writers #black!fem!reader #rebel ridge #terry richmond

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wholoveseggs · 29 days ago

Text

Kinktober - {Day Thirty-One} {<- kinktober masterlist}

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List} {Kinktober}

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽ HAPPY HALLOWEEN ☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

{Elijah Mikaelson X Klaus Mikaelson x f!Reader} Request {@originals23}: Well, I am all for Elijah, but Kinktober without Klaus must not happen;) I therefore request a Klaus story with a female reader and kinks 15 (m/m/f) and 17. Maybe with some jealousy as Klaus doesn't like to share. ;) Hope you are feeling a bit better! Thanks!!

♡♡♡ Hiii darling @originals23 you know how much I adore you~ And of course the other man in this ménage à trois HAS to be Elijah ♡♡♡

7.3k words - Kinks: costumes, lots of blood drinking, threesome, lots of flirting, a haunted house && Klaus and Elijah competing over you in bed ...

“You’re joking.” Rebekah’s tone was flat as she stared you down in the doorway, her disapproval nearly tangible.

You blinked at her, feigning innocence, and looked down at your outfit as if trying to figure out what could possibly be the problem. “What?” you asked, tilting your head. “Is something wrong with it?”

Rebekah’s gaze didn’t waver, taking in every inch of your ‘vampire’ costume. The short, form-fitting dress, plunging neckline, lace gloves, and, of course, the dramatic collar.

“Is this supposed to be funny?” she asked, her voice dripping with barely-contained irritation. “I thought you’d have more taste than to show up looking like that.”

“Oh, come on, don’t be such a buzzkill!” You laughed, waving off her disapproval with a flick of your hand. “It’s Halloween, and I’m here to have fun.”

Rebekah’s lips tightened. “You do realize there will be actual vampires at this party?” she said, her eyes narrowing.

You raised an eyebrow, amused. “So... they’ll get the joke then?”

Rebekah sighed, moving over to sit at the edge of her bed as she slipped on the ridiculous hot pink heels she had chosen to complete her Barbie costume. The look suited her in a way that only added to her usual allure: effortlessly beautiful and intimidatingly flawless. “I don’t think you quite understand,” she started, giving you another withering glance.

“Sorry? Didn’t catch that,” you interrupted with a grin, pulling a pair of plastic fangs from your pocket and popping them into your mouth. Turning dramatically, you flashed her your best vampy grin.

Rebekah let out an exasperated sigh, but you saw the slight grin that tugged at the corner of her mouth. You always had a way of making her laugh, even when she didn’t want to. “I’m being serious,” she told you, standing up and reaching for her handbag.

“Ya don tink I can sedu a ampire like tis?” you said, grinning wider, struggling to speak around the fangs. You barely had time to flinch as Rebekah reached over and snatched the fangs right out of your mouth, tossing them over her shoulder without so much as a second glance.

“Hey!” you protested, trying to catch them as they sailed behind her. “I was just starting to get the hang of those!”

Rebekah rolled her eyes, crossing her arms as she looked at you with a smirk. “Honestly, you’re hopeless. And I can’t imagine what Elijah and Klaus will think when they see you dressed like… well, that.”

At the mention of their names, you felt a warm flush rise in your cheeks. You quickly looked away, pretending to fix a wrinkle on your dress. “What’s that supposed to mean?” you muttered, hoping the blush wasn’t as obvious as it felt.

“Oh, please.” Rebekah’s grin widened, clearly enjoying your sudden shyness. She had known for a while about the little crush you had on her brothers, but she had never outright called you on it. Not until now.

You gave her a wary look, but she only shook her head, laughing softly.

“That dress is definitely going to test their self-control. Elijah, I suppose, will try to behave himself. But Klaus? Good luck with that. He’ll probably drag you off to some dark corner the second he sees you.” She smirked, leaning in conspiratorially.

The flush in your cheeks deepened, and you turned away, embarrassed. But Rebekah wasn’t finished. She stepped closer, her voice dropping to a whisper.

“Or maybe you wouldn't mind that. Maybe you're hoping for it." She raised an eyebrow, studying your reaction carefully. "If you had to choose one of them, which would it be? Elijah, or Klaus?"

You swallowed hard, feeling your face grow hotter. Your pulse was racing, and you knew she could hear it, could sense the quickening of your heartbeat. But there was no point in lying to her. She would know if you did.

"Both," you whispered back, meeting her gaze at last.

Your face was definitely burning now, and you bit your lip nervously. The thought of either one of them alone was enough to make you weak in the knees. The thought of both of them... well, it was almost too much to imagine.

Rebekah's grin widened, and she leaned back, looking satisfied.

"That's what I thought," she said, chuckling softly. Then, with a shrug, she turned away, heading toward the door. "Well, come on, then. Let's go. We can't keep them waiting forever."

You hesitated, still flustered from her teasing. But after a moment, you followed her, trailing behind her out of the room and down the stairs to the party happening in the courtyard.

The place was decorated to the nines, just like any other Mikaelson party, with elaborate decor, dim lighting, and an ever-growing throng of guests mingling and dancing to the live music. The scent of alcohol and expensive perfume filled the air, and you caught sight of a few familiar faces, including Marcel and Cami. They both looked like they were having fun, chatting and laughing as they sipped their drinks.

You felt a rush of relief at seeing them, glad that there would be someone else around to help ease the tension. The last thing you needed was to be alone in a room full of vampires, especially in your current outfit.

You followed Rebekah through the crowd, trying to stay close behind her so as not to get separated. As you approached the bar, you saw a few of the vampires look your way, and you quickly averted your gaze, pretending not to notice.

You could feel their eyes on you, and the weight of their stares made the back of your neck prickle. Wearing this costume was so funny when you imagined it, but the reality was far more nerve-wracking.

You tried to push the anxiety aside, focusing instead on the music and the atmosphere. The music was loud and pulsing, with a heavy bass that vibrated through your body, and the lights were dim enough to make everything feel a bit surreal, like you were walking through a dream.

You spotted Elijah at the bar, nursing a glass of wine and talking with Hayley. He looked dashing as always, dressed up as a 1920s gangster. His suit was perfectly tailored, and his hair was slicked back, making him look more like a mob boss than a vampire. It was a very good look on him, and you felt your pulse quicken as he glanced your way, his gaze lingering on your outfit for a moment before returning to the conversation.

Klaus was nowhere to be seen, but you figured he must be around somewhere. He wouldn't miss his own party.

As you approached the bar, Marcel and Cami waved you over, inviting you to join them. Marcel chuckled at your outfit, shaking his head as he took in the whole thing.

"Nice costume. Did you leave your fangs at home?" he asked, laughing.

You blushed, smiling sheepishly. "Yeah, Rebekah wasn't really a fan," you admitted, glancing over at her. She had joined Elijah and Hayley, and the three of them seemed engrossed in their conversation.

"I like it, it's very bold," Cami chimed in, giving you a reassuring smile. She was dressed as a butterfly, with big, sparkly wings and a glittery top. It suited her well, bringing out her bright eyes and golden hair.

"It's supposed to be a joke," you explained, a bit self-consciously. "I figured if I showed up looking like a cliché, maybe the actual vampires would find it funny. Guess not, though."

Marcel shrugged, taking a swig of his drink. "I think you look hot," he told you, grinning. He was dressed as a prince, complete with a crown and fake sword. "You're definitely turning some heads tonight."

Cami nudged him with her elbow, rolling her eyes. "You're such a flirt," she teased, shaking her head. "Ignore him, he's just saying that because he thinks it'll get him lucky."

Marcel feigned innocence, raising his hands. "Who, me?"

You laughed, relaxing a bit. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

"You must check out the haunted house," Cami said, gesturing across the courtyard. There was a small building, covered in fake cobwebs and skeletons, that had been transformed into a spooky attraction for the party.

"It's pretty awesome, there are some seriously creepy creatures in there," Marcel added, giving you a sly smile. "Some of them might even bite."

Just then, you heard the familiar sound of Klaus' voice coming from behind you. You turned, and your heart skipped a beat as you caught sight of him. He was dressed as the Phantom of the Opera, and the mask accentuated his handsome features perfectly, making him look even more mysterious and dangerous than usual. His gaze fell on you, and he grinned, his eyes darkening with hunger.

"There you are," he said, his voice low and husky. "I've been looking for you."

Marcel and Cami exchanged a look, and you could see the amusement in their eyes. You swallowed hard, trying to compose yourself.

"H-hey," you stammered, your voice cracking slightly.

"Interesting choice in costume," he teased, his gaze raking over you slowly.

You felt your cheeks grow hot under his scrutiny, and you bit your lip, trying not to squirm.

"Do you like it?" you managed, giving him a coy smile.

Klaus' lips curved into a wicked grin, and he stepped closer, his hand moving up your arm. "I think it's perfect," he murmured, his fingertips trailing along the choker around your neck.

You couldn't deny that you enjoyed the way his gaze seemed to undress you, and you swallowed hard, feeling a familiar warmth pooling between your legs. You couldn't remember ever being this affected by someone, and the fact that it was Klaus only made it worse.

"Well, I'm glad someone has good taste," you said, forcing a lighthearted tone, trying not to let him know how flustered you were.

"Mmm, indeed." Klaus' fingers traced the collar of your dress, brushing against your skin and sending a thrill through you. He moved closer, his other hand settling on your waist as he bent down to whisper in your ear.

"But I think it could be improved," he breathed, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. "You need a real bite."

Before you could respond, he dipped his head, his fangs grazing the side of your neck, just above your pulse. Your breath caught in your throat, and your heart began to race.

Marcel cleared his throat, and you suddenly remembered where you were. You flushed, pulling back a little and glancing around, noticing that several people were staring at you.

He chuckled and pulled away, giving you a wicked grin. He was teasing you, and you both knew it. But there was no denying the heat in his gaze, or the way his fingers tightened on your waist, as if he wanted to pull you closer.

"Save me a dance later?" he murmured, his thumb stroking over your hip bone.

You nodded, still a little breathless. "Of course," you managed, licking your lips.

His eyes followed the movement, his gaze darkening. "Good." He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your cheek, his lips lingering against your skin. "I'll hold you to that, love."

With that, he stepped back, giving you a wink before turning and heading back into the crowd.

You let out a shaky breath, your heart pounding. It was almost overwhelming how attracted you were to him, and it didn't help that he knew it, too.

Marcel and Cami exchanged a knowing look, and you rolled your eyes at them.

"Oh, shut up," you muttered, taking a long sip of your drink.

They laughed, shaking their heads.

"It's about time, though," Cami said, grinning.

"I'll drink to that," Marcel agreed, raising his glass.

You gave them a warning glare, but they just laughed harder. "I'm going to check out the haunted house," you announced, turning on your heel and walking away.

Their laughter followed you as you crossed the courtyard, heading toward the small building. Your mind was racing, replaying the way Klaus had looked at you, the way his touch had sent a thrill through you. You knew you were blushing, and you were grateful for the cover of darkness as you slipped inside the attraction.

You immediately regretted the decision. It was dark and creepy, filled with cobwebs and skeletons, and the eerie soundtrack only made it worse. There was definitely a spell or two involved, the entire atmosphere was designed to put guests on edge.

You wandered through the maze of corridors and rooms, trying to find the exit. There was something about the dark corners and flickering candles that made you uneasy, and you couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching you.

You reached a dead end and cursed under your breath, turning back. A sudden loud scream came from the speakers, and all the lights began flashing, making your heart leap into your throat. You hurried forward, desperately searching for a way out.

You turned a corner, running blinding for the exit. But instead of finding the door, you crashed into a hard body, nearly falling over. Two strong arms wrapped around you, steadying you, and you gasped as you looked up into familiar brown eyes.

"Elijah," you breathed, clutching his chest. "I'm so sorry, I didn't see you."

He chuckled, his hands resting on your hips. "That's quite alright,"

"I-I was looking for the exit," you explained, a little embarrassed.

He grinned, stepping back and gesturing to a nearby door. "You've found it," he said, taking your hand and leading you through.

The fresh air hit you, and you took a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves. Elijah's touch was still making your pulse race, and you couldn't deny that you had been hoping to run into him, too.

"I'm sorry if I startled you," he said, his thumb tracing over the back of your hand. "Need a drink?"

"Please," you breathed, following him as he led you toward the bar.

He ordered two drinks, handing one to you and lifting the other in a toast. You clinked your glass against his and quickly took a sip of your drink, hoping he couldn't hear the way your heartbeat quickened.

"I'm a bit insulted by your outfit." He said, his tone playful. "I've never considered a vampire so... tasteless."

You nearly choked on your drink, surprised by his bluntness. You couldn't tell if he was serious or not, but the look in his eyes told you he was at least half-teasing.

"Hey, now. I'll have you know, I put a lot of thought into this outfit," you told him, feigning offense, though you couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up.

Elijah smiled, reaching out to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. "Did you put glitter on your face? You're sparkling."

"Isn't that what vampires do?" You flashed a coy grin. "Sparkle in the sun?"

Elijah shook his head, his fingers trailing over your jaw. "If we did, we wouldn't do it nearly as beautifully as you."

You felt your cheeks flush at his compliment, and you looked away, taking another sip of your drink. You weren't sure what to say, he was so damn smooth with his words.

"Thank you," you finally murmured, meeting his gaze again. "For rescuing me in there."

He chuckled, taking a sip of his own drink. "My pleasure. Though, I'd say the rescue was a bit mutual."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you've rescued me as well, darling. From a very dull night."

You laughed, shaking your head. "Dull? Hardly. It's a Mikaelson Halloween party, there's nothing dull about it."

He shrugged, his gaze traveling over you again. "Perhaps. But a night spent in your company is much more exciting."

You blushed, looking down. You could feel his eyes on you, and the tension between you was nearly palpable. You had always had a crush on him, and it was surreal to be standing here, with him looking at you like that.

"Dance with me," he said, pulling you closer.

You nodded, letting him lead you onto the dance floor. The music was slow and sensual, and you could feel the beat pulsing through your body, making your heart race.

Elijah's hand settled on your waist, his other gently grasping your own as he drew you in close. You rested your free hand on his shoulder, looking up at him through your lashes. Out of all Rebekah's brothers, he was the hardest to read, and sometimes the most intimidating.

But there was no denying the heat in his gaze as he looked down at you, or the way his fingers tightened on your waist. You bit your lip, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach.

"Tell me, sweetheart," he said, his voice sending shivers down your spine. "Did you pick your costume specifically to try and get attention?"

You blinked, caught off-guard by the question. "I, um..." You weren't sure how to answer. The truth was, yes, you had picked the outfit hoping to attract their attention, but you hadn't thought anyone would call you out on it.

"I'm not judging," he assured you, his hand sliding down your waist, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. "I'm merely curious."

"Maybe," you admitted, a flush rising in your cheeks. "What do you think?"

"I think," he murmured, his fingers dancing along the hem of your dress, his touch sending sparks of desire through you, "that you don't have to try so hard," he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear.

You let out a soft gasp and your hand curled into the collar of his suit jacket. You knew it was a reckless idea, that getting tangled up with a Mikaelson was bound to end badly, but right now, you couldn't bring yourself to care.

"You're dangerous, you know that?" you whispered, looking up at him.

"So are you," he replied, his eyes darkening.

You could see the hunger in his gaze, dark veins rippling under his eyes ever so slightly. You knew that he wanted you just as badly as you wanted him.

"How much did this little outfit cost?” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin.

You snorted, rolling your eyes. "What does that matter?"

"Because I want to know how much money I'm going to spend replacing it."

You blinked, your cheeks growing warm. "Elijah," you whispered, a thrill rushing through you.

He smiled, a wide toothy grin, and then spun you around, dipping you back. The move was fluid and graceful, and you clung to him, laughing breathlessly. The alcohol was making your head spin, and the heat between the two of you was intoxicating.

"I must confess I'm a bit jealous," he murmured, bringing you back up. His hand rested on the small of your back, keeping you close as the two of you moved together.

"Of who?"

"Niklaus has made it clear he's interested in pursuing you. I'm afraid that if I let you out of my sight, he'll steal you away." He chuckled, and the sound vibrated through you.

"And what do you intend to do about it?" you asked, a challenge in your voice.

He smirked, his eyes darkening. "Why, I intend to keep you right here, where I can enjoy you for myself."

"You can't keep me, I'm not an object," you teased, even as you felt your pulse quicken.

Elijah smiled, amused, his gaze moving to someone standing behind you. "Perhaps not. But Niklaus certainly thinks so."

You glanced over your shoulder and saw Klaus leaning against a nearby pillar, a drink in his hand and a smirk on his face. He gave you a wink and lifted his glass, silently toasting you.

Your cheeks flushed, and you turned back to Elijah, biting your lip. You were torn between being flattered by their attention and feeling embarrassed by it. You were just a human, after all, and they were two powerful vampires, kings among their own kind.

You felt another pair of hands sliding along your hips, and Klaus' familiar scent filled your nostrils. He nuzzled against the crook of your neck, pressing a soft kiss against your skin.

"Can I have that dance, love?" He murmured, his breath hot against your skin.

Your breath hitched, the proximity of both of them sending your pulse racing. The fantasy that you had built up in your head suddenly seemed very possible and it overwhelmed you. The heat of them, the way they touched you, the way their bodies moved against yours as they danced. You felt like a piece of prey caught between a wolf and a panther, and they were circling, waiting for the right moment to strike.

You saw Marcel watching you, an amused grin on his face. He had seen everything and was clearly entertained by the whole situation. You felt a sudden wave of embarrassment wash over you, and you stepped away, clearing your throat.

"I, uh, I should probably go find Rebekah," you said, avoiding their gazes. "I'll.. see you guys later."

Klaus' brows furrowed, and he reached for you, his fingers brushing against yours. "Love, wait—"

You pulled away from them, mumbling an excuse, and hurried off, disappearing into the crowd. Your cheeks were burning, and you could feel their eyes on you, but you didn't dare look back.

You made your way through the party, keeping your head down and avoiding eye contact with everyone. Searching for Rebekah, you found her in a far corner, chatting with Cami.

Rebekah smirked, raising an eyebrow. "Have you received the attention you were hoping for tonight?"

"Uh, yeah," you muttered, shaking your head. "Perhaps a little too much."

Cami snorted, hiding her grin behind her hand.

"You don't say," Rebekah chuckled, giving you a knowing look.

"I'm not sure what I was thinking, wearing this." You felt a wave of embarrassment wash over you, and you looked down at the ground, your cheeks heating.

"Nonsense," Rebekah said, linking her arm with yours. "It's not the outfit, but the girl wearing it. And besides, those idiots have been pining after you for ages, this is hardly news."

Cami nodded in agreement. "They're smitten, and everyone can see it."

You rolled your eyes, not quite believing them. "I guess…”

"Did they bother you?" Rebekah asked, a hint of protectiveness in her tone.

"No," you replied, quickly shaking your head. "I mean, not really. They were just a little... overwhelming. I'm not used to having two guys chasing after me."

Cami nodded, giving you a reassuring smile. "If anything, I think it's a good thing. Gives you the chance to decide which one you're more into."

Rebekah let out a laugh, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Please, if she knew who she was more into, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

You glared at her, trying not to blush. She had a point, but that didn't mean you wanted her bringing it up in front of Cami.

"I don't know," Cami said, her eyes narrowing slightly. "You seem pretty torn. Maybe you should just try them both out, see which one fits better."

You blinked, surprised by the suggestion. But before you could respond, Cami held up a hand, stopping you.

"No, listen, I'm serious. There's nothing wrong with trying to figure out who you're more attracted to. It's healthy."

You laughed, shaking your head. "Are you saying I should sleep with both of them?"

"If that's what it takes," Cami replied, shrugging. "You deserve to know what you want, and I don't think you'll find the answer until you give it a try."

Rebekah pretended not to hear, sipping her drink, but the corners of her mouth twitched, as if she were trying not to smile.

You stared at her for a moment, speechless. You hadn't expected such a suggestion, but at the same time, part of you wondered if Cami was right. You did want them both, and they were clearly interested in you. But there was no way in hell you could choose between them. Maybe sleeping with both of them was the only way to make things clear.

"Here," Rebekah said, interrupting your thoughts. She handed you your fake fangs, smiling mischievously. "Go put these back on, and then find my brothers. I'm sure they'd be happy to continue the party in private."

You gave her a look, but she only laughed, patting your arm.

"Just trust me," she said, winking. "I've seen you with them, you are not acting like yourself, all shy and sweet. That's not you. Go be reckless, have fun, and maybe get laid. You need it."

You felt your cheeks grow hot, and she pushed you gently back towards the dance floor. Cami joined her, both of them laughing and pushing you playfully.

"Hey, are you blushing?" Rebekah called after you, giggling.

You waved her off, rolling your eyes. But there was no denying the heat rising in your cheeks, and the butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

You made your way through the crowd, looking for them. But they were nowhere to be found on the first floor so you headed upstairs.

You found them sitting on the lounge on an ornate looking sofa, discussing something in hushed voices. It seemed heated, like they were arguing over something… But when they saw you, however, their conversation halted, and they exchanged a glance.

"Back so soon?" Klaus teased, his eyes sweeping over you.

You kept your mouth closed, trying to hide the fangs. You sat down in-between them, letting the silence stretch between the three of you.

Elijah cleared his throat, glancing at Klaus, and then back to you. "Is everything alright, sweetheart?"

You have them a wide grin, the ridiculous plastic fangs finally revealing themselves.

Klaus burst into laughter, throwing his head back, and Elijah's lips twitched.

"That's the ugliest thing I've ever seen," Klaus said, snorting.

"And yet, somehow, it looks quite fetching on you," Elijah remarked, a small smile playing on his lips.

You giggled, feeling a bit foolish, but also emboldened. "Why, thank you gentlemen. Now it's only fair you show me yours," you said, waggling your eyebrows and popping the fangs out of your mouth.

Klaus chuckled, raising an eyebrow. “If that's what you wish."

You watched as the veins under his eyes appeared and his fangs lengthened. It looked extra frightening, paired with his phantom costume, and you couldn't help but reach out, touching one of his fangs.

He grinned, and his eyes flashed gold, a sign of his werewolf side, too. "Does this frighten you?" he murmured, leaning closer.

"Not at all," you told him, biting your lip.

He smirked, his gaze flickering to your mouth. "Good."

You turned to Elijah, and found him watching the two of you intently, his dark eyes glittering.

"Well, don't I get to see yours, too?" you asked, batting your eyelashes.

Elijah hesitated for a moment, and then his own fangs descended, his eyes flashing black.

You let out a soft gasp, reaching out and touching his cheek. His skin was warm, the dark veins under his eyes were dancing, and you could feel the power radiating off him.

"Beautiful," you whispered, awed by their supernatural sides.

Klaus chuckled, watching the two of you with amusement. "Our little human has quite the appetite," he murmured, his eyes gleaming.

"Indeed," Elijah replied, a smirk tugging at his lips.

They exchanged a look, and then turned back to you, their gazes heated. You swallowed hard, suddenly feeling a bit nervous.

"Elijah and I have a bit of a wager going," Klaus said, leaning closer.

"Niklau-" Elijah started to speak, but Klaus cut him off.

"No, no, no, Elijah. We should get to the bottom of this, once and for all," Klaus said, a mischievous look on his face.

"What are you talking about?" You asked, confused.

"Well, my dear brother is under the impression that he is the one you have feelings for," Klaus explained, his tone playful.

"Niklaus, I swear to-"

Klaus held up a hand, stopping Elijah. "However, I believe it's me you're attracted to."

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. You had a feeling they had been bickering over this since the moment you left them downstairs.

"What if I can't choose?" You asked, meeting their gaze.

"Then you'll just have to spend the night with both of us," Klaus replied, a wicked grin on his face.

"Niklaus. That's enough," Elijah said, his tone sharp. You could tell he was irritated by the way Klaus was behaving. But you didn't mind the teasing, and you knew just how to shut them up.

You took a deep breath, trying to gather your courage, and then you grabbed Elijah's tie and pulled him toward you, kissing him.

Elijah let out a surprised grunt, but quickly recovered, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer. His lips were soft and warm, and you could feel his fangs scraping against your mouth.

The kiss was intense, and you were breathless when he finally pulled away. He smiled, his eyes dark with desire, then he looked over your shoulder at Klaus, a smug expression on his face.

"Well, there's your answer," he said, sounding a bit pleased with himself.

You glanced behind you and saw that Klaus was glaring at Elijah, his jaw clenched tight. You giggled and turned to him, pulling him in for a kiss.

He growled, his hands sliding over your body as he kissed you, hard and demanding. You could feel the anger rolling off him, and you had to admit, it was kind of thrilling.

"See, she likes me more," Klaus said, a smug grin on his face.

"Incorrigible child," Elijah scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"Both of you shut up," you told them, feeling impatient. "You're ruining the mood."

Klaus smirked, his eyes flashing. "As you wish, love."

They both leaned in, pressing soft kisses to either side of your neck simultaneously. You closed your eyes, sighing, your fingers curling into the fabric of their shirts. Their lips trailed over your skin, their fangs gently scraping against you.

"We should go somewhere more private," Elijah murmured, his hand sliding up your thigh.

Klaus nodded, nipping at your earlobe. "My room, perhaps? I'd very much like to have you alone."

"Oh, no. My room," Elijah countered, his voice low and husky.

You couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up in your throat, and you opened your eyes, looking at both of them.

"How about the guest room I'm staying in? Feels like neutral territory," you offered, smirking.

"Agreed," Elijah said, pulling you closer and nuzzling your neck.

Suddenly he scooped you up into his arms and you yelped in surprise. He smirked, and you watched Klaus grab multiple bottles of champagne. He popped one open and began to chug it.

You giggled, holding onto Elijah's neck as he carried you to the bedroom. He placed you on the bed, and you watched as they stripped their clothes off, tossing them carelessly to the floor.

"Why Phantom of the Opera?" you teased Klaus, admiring their toned bodies.

"Because I look dashing, of course," Klaus replied, grinning. "I miss the fashion of that era,"

"And you?" You looked at Elijah, "did you just find an old outfit in your closet?"

Elijah chuckled, shrugging. "More or less. Though, I did take some liberties with the suit."

You rolled your eyes, amused. They were such divas, always wanting to look their best. But you weren't complaining, they were incredibly sexy.

Elijah was the first to move, crawling onto the bed and hovering over you. He captured your mouth in a passionate kiss, his tongue sliding against yours. His hands moved over your body, gently squeezing your breasts before ripping your costume open. You gasped, and then moaned as his mouth moved down, trailing kisses along your exposed chest.

"Cheap satin, mass produced garbage," he muttered, tossing the shredded fabric to the side.

You laughed, but your laugh turned into a moan as his lips wrapped around your nipple, sucking gently. His hands slid over your hips, squeezing possessively.

You arched into him, your fingers tangling in his hair. He was rough, but not too rough, and you could feel the heat building between your legs.

You felt the bed dip, and then Klaus was kneeling next to you, his cock already hard and throbbing. You reached out, wrapping your hand around his length and giving him a slow, firm stroke.

"That's it, love," he groaned, his hips jerking forward.

Elijah chuckled, nipping at your neck. "Impatient as ever, Niklaus."

Klaus glared at him, his eyes flashing gold. "And you're not, Elijah? Look at you, rutting against her like a bloody animal."

Elijah pulled back, a smirk on his face. "Touché."

You couldn't help but laugh, shaking your head. The tension between the two of them was palpable, but you couldn't bring yourself to mind. It was thrilling, being the focus of their attention.

You quickly shut Klaus up by leaning forward and taking him into your mouth.

"Fuck," he groaned, his hand tangling in your hair.

You swirled your tongue around the head, and then bobbed down his shaft, taking him in as deep as you could. Enjoying the low moans you pulled from him.

Elijah kissed and nipped his way down your body, settling between your legs. He spread your thighs, and you whimpered as he ran his tongue along your slit, the sensation making your toes curl.

You knew they would be good in bed, but this was... beyond your wildest imagination. The way they worked in sync, almost competing for your attention, left you breathless. It was exhilarating, and you couldn’t help but revel in the pleasure they both brought you.

Elijah's tongue danced over your clit, his skillful movements driving you wild as he circled and dipped inside you. You moaned around Klaus's cock, the vibrations intensifying the pleasure building within you.

“Fuck, love. Your mouth feels incredible,” Klaus groaned, his fingers tangling in your hair as he thrust forward.

You tightened your lips around him, feeling the heat radiating from both men. Elijah’s grip on your hips was firm, holding you still as he devoured you. The pressure inside you mounted, a delicious tension just out of reach. Your thighs squeezed his head, and you caught a glimpse of his smirk through the haze of pleasure.

Klaus was groaning and cursing, his thrusts becoming erratic. You knew he was close, and the thought made your core ache. With a final, fervent moan around Klaus's length, he spilled himself down your throat, a deep growl escaping his lips. You relished the taste, the raw connection of it all.

Elijah pulled away, and you whined at the sudden emptiness, your body craving more of his touch. He grinned, fangs descending, and pressed his lips to the delicate skin of your inner thigh. His bite pierced your skin, and the pain quickly transformed into a rush of pleasure. You could feel him drinking from you, pulling your essence into him, intensifying your arousal.

Your breath caught as you felt yourself tipping over the edge. Climax ripped through you, leaving you trembling and gasping. Elijah pulled away, licking the wound on your thigh clean, then pressed a soft kiss to your skin, his eyes dark with desire.

“So sweet,” he murmured, his voice husky. “I could drink from you all night.”

Klaus chuckled, tracing a finger along the bite mark. “Now, now, brother. Let’s not be greedy.”

Elijah’s mouth moved higher, trailing kisses along your hip bones and stomach. You could see the dark veins under his eyes, the whites of his eyes now black. He was equal parts beautiful and deadly. You reached down, tracing the veins under his eyes, captivated by the sight.

Klaus smirked, watching your reaction. “Our little human is quite fascinated by our supernatural side.”

“Indeed,” Elijah murmured, his mouth hovering over the curve of your breast.

“It’s kind of hot,” you said, breathless with a smile.

Elijah grinned, then latched onto one of your nipples, his tongue swirling around the hardened peak. You moaned, arching into him, feeling the tension building again.

Klaus chuckled. “Elijah, I do believe it’s my turn.”

Elijah paused, glancing at him. “Of course.” he muttered, reluctantly pulling away.

Klaus shifted behind you, pulling you into his lap, your back pressed against his chest. “Now, when it comes to you making a decision, it’s all about who’s best, isn’t it?” he whispered in your ear.

You swallowed, eyes fluttering closed as his hand slipped between your thighs, pressing two fingers inside you. “I-I guess,” you stuttered, struggling to focus on his words.

“I’m going to show you why it should be me,” Klaus said, his voice low and husky.

Elijah’s eyes narrowed, jaw clenched. He didn’t like being upstaged, but you couldn’t help but feel amused. They were both so competitive, always trying to prove themselves better than the other.

“Come now, brother. No need to be jealous,” Klaus said, smirking.

Elijah’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m certain I’ll win her favor.”

You giggled, the sound turning into a moan as Klaus curled his fingers, rubbing against your sensitive spot. He pressed a kiss to your neck, nipping at your skin, and you could feel his fangs scraping against you.

Your hands gripped his thighs, nails digging into his skin. He groaned, fingers pumping in and out of you, sending waves of pleasure through your body.

Elijah watched, gaze intense. You could see the jealousy in his eyes, but there was desire there too. And it turned you on even more.

“Don’t hold back, love,” Klaus murmured, his voice seductive. “Let me hear those sweet sounds.”

Your lips parted, and you couldn’t stop the moans spilling from your mouth. It was overwhelming—the way Klaus touched you, the way Elijah watched. The tension inside you was building, and you knew you were close.

Klaus sank his fangs into your neck, and you cried out, the sensation pushing you over the edge. Your body trembled, waves of pleasure crashing through you.

Klaus growled, teeth digging deeper, and you could feel him drinking from you. The combination of pleasure and pain was intoxicating, and you found yourself wishing he would never stop.

But eventually, he pulled away, lapping at the bite marks on your neck. You felt lightheaded, a pleasant buzz flowing through your veins.

“Delicious,” he whispered, his voice rough.

Elijah leaned forward, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. He tasted like blood, and you could feel the desperation in his touch.

“Now, now, brother,” Klaus said, amusement lacing his tone. “I didn’t say you could have a turn.”

“Oh, stop,” you chuckled, pushing on Elijah’s chest and turning to face Klaus. Straddling him, you kissed him passionately, then slowly lowered yourself onto his length.

“Bloody hell,” Klaus groaned, his hands gripping your hips.

“You feel so good,” you whispered, biting his lip.

He smirked, thrusting into you. You moaned, throwing your head back, and began to ride him. His fingers dug into your skin, and you knew you’d have bruises later, but you didn’t care.

Elijah pressed himself into your back, licking the bite mark on your neck, sucking more blood from it. You shuddered; the feeling of him behind you combined with Klaus thrusting into you was almost too much.

Klaus’s eyes flashed gold, veins dancing beneath his skin. You leaned forward, pressing your forehead to his and locking your gaze with his. He looked so damn beautiful, eyes dark with lust, skin flushed.

“Cum for us, sweetheart,” Elijah whispered, breath hot against your ear.

You couldn’t hold back any longer. You cried out, your climax crashing through you as they both watched with rapt attention, intensifying the pleasure.

Your vision blurred, and you felt dizzy. You had no idea how much blood they had taken from you, but it must have been a lot.

“Niklaus,” Elijah warned, voice strained.

“Yes, yes, I know,” Klaus muttered, letting you fall back into Elijah’s arms.

“I’m fine,” you said, breathless. “Just a little dizzy.”

Elijah scooped you up and laid you down, his lips finding yours. “I’m afraid we got a bit carried away,” he said, his expression regretful.

“I’m not complaining,” you replied, giving him a weak smile.

“Here,” he said softly, biting down on his wrist and holding it to your mouth.

You nodded, taking his blood. It was surprisingly sweet, reviving you, clearing the fog from your mind.

“That’s cheating,” Klaus grumbled, pouting.

“We need her in top form for the rest of the night,” Elijah replied, lips twitching with a smile.

You ran your fingers through Elijah’s hair, pulling him in for a kiss as you parted your legs. He smiled, positioning himself between your thighs.

You moaned as he eased into you, filling you completely. His movements were slow and deliberate, and it felt so damn good. You could almost feel the way his blood flowed through you, rejuvenating you.

Elijah’s rhythm was steady, thrusts deep and sure, kissing and nipping at your neck and jaw. You were lost in pleasure, fingers digging into his back.

It didn’t take long for your release to build again, your whole body trembling. Elijah groaned, pace quickening. You felt his body tense, control slipping, and he finally spilled himself inside you.

He kissed you, eyes dark with desire, then pulled out, breathing ragged.

Klaus began to slow clap, a smirk on his face. "Well done, brother."

You couldn't help but laugh, even though you were utterly exhausted. "I guess we're all winners tonight," you said, a sleepy smile on your face.

Elijah chuckled, rolling onto his back and pulling you into his arms. You snuggled against him, feeling safe and warm.

Klaus shifted on the bed, lying beside you and pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder. "So... who do you choose?"

"Both," you replied, not even having to think about it.

"Afraid that's not an option," Elijah murmured, his thumb rubbing gentle circles against your arm.

"And why not?" You asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Because," Klaus said, his hand sliding over your hip, "we need to know who the victor is."

You rolled your eyes, knowing this was just another game to them. "Fine. Elijah, then."

"Ha!" Elijah exclaimed, looking smug.

"Actually... No. Klaus," you said, turning your head and smirking at him.

"Don't lie to make him feel better," Elijah said, a teasing tone to his voice.

You giggled, unable to keep a straight face.

"You're not going to make a choice, are you?" Klaus asked, his tone amused.

"Nope," you replied, grinning. "Also, you both owe me a costume,"

They exchanged a look, and then turned back to you, their eyes glinting with mischief.

"We can arrange that," Klaus said, his lips curving into a wicked grin.

"And perhaps," Elijah added, his tone suggestive, "you could wear it for us."

You smirked, your pulse racing at the thought. "Oh yeah? What would you have me dress up as?"

"Hmm," Klaus murmured, his hand trailing over your hip. "How about a naughty nurse?"

Elijah raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Or a sexy librarian?"

You giggled, enjoying their suggestions. "Perhaps a French maid," you said, giving them a flirty smile.

"I think we could work with that," Klaus said, a wicked glint in his eyes.

"Agreed," Elijah replied, his expression mirroring his brother's.

You sighed, smiling contentedly. "I love Halloween,"

Below, the sounds of the party continued, music and laughter drifting up to you. But the three of you remained locked away in your own private world, enjoying each other's company, and the promise of what was to come.

{<- kinktober masterlist}

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