#stand in the corner and scream with me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

itneverendshere · 21 days ago

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BLESS HALLOWEEN - r.c (+18)

pairing: frat!rafe/ghostface!rafe x reader (uni au) warnings: no plot; smut

inspired by this audio (+18)

between midterms, a terrible class project partner, and your roommate constant need to fuck her boyfriend at any given hour of the day, you’re half asleep most days.

the only thing you should be doing is sleeping, anywhere, for hours, but instead, you let yourself get dragged to a halloween party.

sure, you’re running on three hours of sleep and five cups of coffee, but heaven forbid you to miss a party because your roommate just had to be there. never mind that she’s been wearing her "not-so-pg sexy witch" costume since last tuesday, casting spells for her crush to notice her (like he doesn’t see half her skin every night anyway).

you look hotter than you'd like to admit. black mini dress? check. sky-high boots? check. a little lace mask that hides just enough to keep the mystery going? obviously.

you're not trying too hard, but you’re giving just enough to turn heads, with a vibe that says, “i might ruin your life, but you'll thank me for it."

you’re rocking some version of a "slutty masquerade," not that anyone could guess what that means, but it gets you a free drink within five minutes. and the best part? nobody knows it’s you.

the only downside is that you’re in his territory.

it could be anywhere, but it’s happening at his frat.

your project partner, personal headache and resident menace, rafe cameron holds court here like he’s king of the idiots.

he’s hot, you’ll give him that, guy’s all charm until it’s time to work; then he’s as useless as that cheap foundation your roommate keeps borrowing.

and now you’re here, half hoping to avoid his face entirely—his smirk that screams "’m getting credit off your hard work" and that irking attitude that makes him think he’s doing you a favor.

as if seeing him once a week in class isn’t enough of a problem. you pull your mask down a bit lower, not that he’d recognize you through the lace, but just in case.

against all odds, you’re having a good time. the drinks are good—something sugary—and you find yourself laughing, loosening up.

mid-laugh, you walk straight into someone, practically face-plant into a solid chest. you stagger back, the guy's hand catching your elbow to hold you, and you look up, only to be met with a ghostface mask.

“ohh, sorry,” he says with an amused chuckle like he's getting a kick out of startling you. "sorry, sorry—i didn’t mean to scare you," he adds, not sounding remotely sorry.

you raise a brow, your lips curving just slightly. “hmm, you sure? cause it kinda looks like you enjoy it."

he puts a hand up in mock innocence. “nah, i swear, completely unintentional,”

you blink up at him, squinting against the red lighting to catch a better look at his mask. it’s honestly a little creepy up close, that ghostface grin somehow twisting a bit more under the lights and crowd. but you’re in the mood to get laid tonight.

"nice costume,” you don’t bother to hide the way your eyes stuck to every corner of his body, “scary.”

he doesn’t catch it though, leaning down, head tilting, “what?” he asks, chuckling a bit as he stands closer. “yeah, sorry—the music’s way too loud.”

rolling your eyes with a little attitude, you repeat yourself, a bit louder. “i said, your costume’s scary.”

he nods, shaking his head like he’s relieved, and rubs the back of his neck, as if this mask isn’t hiding the flush you think you see creeping up his neck. “oh, thanks. yeah, uh, you look…” his voice trails off a little, and he clears his throat, swallowing. “you look pretty, uh, scary too.”

you raise a brow, "you think so?"

he nods again, “yeah, ’m terrified of hot women, so…”

the music cuts him off this time around, his words getting lost in the heavy bass, it’s harder to know what he’s saying when you can’t read his lips. you frown, stepping closer into his space. “hmm?”

the guy practically jolts, “nothing, nothing—it’s, uh…” he stammers, then gestures at your face, his fingers brushing near your mask. “it’s a cool mask.”

you smile, amused. “thanks, ghostface. should i be, y’know, scared of you?”

“i don’t know, that depends. should i be scared of you?”

"nop, you're cute. i like where this is going."

the guy’s mask tilts, there’s smidge of surprise in his voice. "really? so—so you’re into masks and, like, the whole psycho-killer thing?”

you shrug nonchalantly, letting your gaze drag over him slower. "only if they're hot and built like you."

there's a short pause, and you can practically feel the amused smile hidden under his mask. “oh, okay, yeah, yeah—so what is it? do you like being scared, or?”

there’s something about a guy like him—tall, broad-shouldered, who could probably break you in half without even trying. and honestly? you like that kind of shit. you’ve always wanted a guy who could cover you with his entire body, who’d tower over you in a way that was intimidating enough to make your heart pound.

the kind that, if you begged nicely, might just be able to cut off your oxygen in bed with one hand. and here he is, looking like he could throw you around a little if you wanted him to. which you might. his hand still hovering near your waist isn’t exactly subtle either—it’s like he knows, somehow. either way, you keep your expression smooth, not giving him anything, it’s more fun that way.

you let out a giggle that’s only partly mocking. "maybe i just like danger, ghostface. or maybe i like watching people squirm."

“holy shit, that’s fucked up.”

you take a slow sip of your drink, watching his shirt cling to his chest as he takes a deep breath, every inch of that body sculpted to the fucking gods like it was made for nights like this. shit, that’s a nice body.

you can’t help the sly smirk that pulls at your lips as you murmur, “what’s wrong with liking it rough?”

he snickers, almost breathlessly, and you know you’re getting to him. “there’s something a little wrong with you.”

yeah, there is. you almost blurt out the truth—that your panties are drenched and practically glued to your skin because of him, that he’s got you feeling hornier than you’ve felt in a long time. but you choose to let your fingers trail down his arm, slow and teasing.

“you think so?” you faux-pout, giving him a look that’s all dark lashes and bad intentions.

he swallows, stumbling over his words. “y-yeah, i mean, there’s some things you need to… work on.”

you tilt your head, smiling in that way you know drives guys crazy, leaning in just enough to make him catch his breath. “would you like to help me?”

he stares at you, goosebumps rising along his arm where your fingers still rest, visibly caught off guard, “what does that mean?”

with a wicked grin, you reach up, wrapping your manicured hands around his neck, his breath all but halting as you pull him down until his face is level with yours. his breath hitches, and you take your time, letting your lips brush the shell of his ear, enough to make him shiver.

“you find me upstairs,” you murmur, voice dripping with promise, “and ’m all yours. okay?”

instead of waiting for him to process it, you’re already sneaking off into the crowd, leaving him rooted. you don’t try looking back, already feeling his stare burning into you, dazed and desperate as he takes in what you just promised. you don’t second guess yourself once, you know he’s coming.

by the time he shakes himself out of his trance, you’re halfway up the stairs.

at the top, you stop, one quick peek over your shoulder to check if he’s still watching. the look on his face is priceless—like he’s not sure if he’s about to follow a dream or walk into his worst nightmare. perfect, you think.

you push open a random door and slip into an empty room, locking eyes with yourself in the mirror. hair a little wild, eyes glinting with that mischievous glint you know all too well. you adjust your mask, the lace sitting just right over your cheekbones. you pull your dress higher, letting it ride up just a little higher, admiring the way the fabric clings to you, showing off every curve.

you turn the lights off, letting the room fall into shadows. he’ll have to work for it if he wants to find you. you can imagine the way he’ll hesitate, hand hovering over the doorknob, wondering what the hell he’s getting himself into.

why make it easy for him?

rafe watches you leave, standing there like a fucking idiot, heart hammering in his chest as he replays what just happened. the words “find me upstairs, and i’m all yours” looping in his mind like a mantra. the confidence in your voice, the way you looked at him like you already knew he’d be following—fuck, it’s enough to make him hard just thinking about it.

he swallows, trying to be calm as he looks around, but there’s no hiding the way his breathing’s quickened, how his body is buzzing at the thought of finding you, alone, in a dark room, just waiting for him.

you’re playing with him, he tells himself, but he doesn’t care. he’s going to go after you anyway.

pushing through the crowd, he’s half-dazed, talking to himself under his breath, almost wheezing out a series of what the fucks. his grip wraps around the banister as he ascends the stairs, his fingers still itching from where you’d brushed against him. he feels completely out of his element. girls flirt with him all the time, he’s with girls all the time, sure, but this—this is different.

he always been a sucker for a good challenge and you’d practically left him in the dust, tossing back that promise without even checking if he’d follow.

at the top, he pauses, looking down the hallway, every door holding the possibility that you might be behind it, waiting.

rafe feels that thrill coil in his stomach, his heart pounding in anticipation. he’s like a kid on halloween night, trick-or-treating at the house he’s always been too afraid to knock on. but you dared him, so there’s no way he’s backing out now.

he starts with the first door, pushing it open only to find it empty, checking the shadows, in case you’re hiding, but nothing. he goes into the next door, finding a couple already in there, and quickly shuts it again, eyes slamming shut, ignoring their annoyed stares as he backs out.

third time’s the charm, yeah? he thinks, reaching for the next door and pulling it open. the door creaks as it swings shut behind him, his footsteps are slow, hesitant, and the scuff of his shoes against the floor makes him cringe.

it takes him a second for his eyes to adjust to the dark, pupils dilating as he walks further inside.his breathing is loud and uneven, almost like he’d run all the way here. he stops in the middle of the room, his chest rising and falling hard, his breath painfully audible.

his heart is doing an annoying thing, pounding, and he swears he can hear it.

did he misread you? the space is eerily quiet, he can’t help but wonder if he’s been set up, if you’re somewhere downstairs, laughing at how eagerly he followed your trail up here like a fucking dumbass.

rafe scans the room’s edges, searching, and he notices a quick movement in the corner—something. he swallows he leans forward a little, squinting to make out any familiar shape.

“you wanna play hide and seek?” he calls out, hoping he’s not making a full out of himself, “is that it?” he’s taking gulps of air, feeling dizzy from being in the dark for so long, “you like this?”

a quiet giggle echoes from one of the corners, inviting, and he feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. you’re playing this game too well, lurking just beyond his reach, and the longer he waits, the more desperate he feels.

he swallows, his mind spiraling as he steps walks around, slow and cautious, hands slightly trembling. he’s caught off guard by just how badly he wants you; the way you kept looking at him like he was the prey downstairs, has him all kinds of worked up.

his cock stirring against his jeans is proof enough.

“you want me to scare you or somethin’?” he provokes you, praying it’s enough to lure you out, “you think it’s smart? letting a stranger chase you into a room, with no one else around. you’re all alone with me.”

“who says you’re that dangerous?”

the second the words leave your mouth, rafe’s resolve slips.

it’s maddening, the way you’re hiding from him, how your voice seems to come to him from every dark corner of the room. he shouldn’t have drowned two shots before following you, but the liquid courage had been tempting.

you’re keeping him on a tight leash, making him wonder if he’s got a shot or if you’re just messing with his head. he wants to see you again, your expression—wants to read you, even if the last time he tried, he ended up with his mind in knots.

“you don’t even know my name,” he muses, taking a couple steps closer to the closet, “does that make it more fun for you? that you don’t know anything about me?”

his movements are cautious, almost reverent as if you’re something sacred and forbidden all at once. he stops, opening the doors, leaning inside as he half-whispers, “not here, huh?” no answer, just silence, but he swears he can feel you watching him, your gaze prickling his skin, almost burning, “where are you? c’mon come out, i’ll go easy on you.”

he sighs, sounding like more of a frustrated exhale. no sign of you anywhere. he shakes his head, letting out a soft laugh, more amused than annoyed.

“be a good girl and come out.”

rafe stalks around the room with the focus of someone hunting prey, his footsteps deliberate, his hands gliding along the walls and over furniture. he reaches the small bathroom door adjacent to the room, his fingers tightening around the handle. his lips pull into a smirk as he pauses—listening.

the room’s quiet, but then, he hears it: the faint, uneven rhythm of your breathing, a quickened inhale, almost as if his words had finally affected you. he stops dead, dropping his hand from the door and turning around with a dark gleam in his eyes.

“wait—wait,” his voice lowers with satisfaction, with the thrill of the chase. he lets out a breathy chuckle, his eyes roving the room as he zeroes in on where you’re hiding. “i can hear you, can hear you breathing.”

he takes a slow, taunting step, his head tilting, as though he’s relishing the way you’re fighting to stay silent, to keep control.

“what’s the matter? you sound a little…” he trails off in a murmur, enjoying the tables turning. “...shaken up. are you scared?”

your breath slips, just enough to betray you and his lips quirk up.

“i know exactly where you are.” with lazy confidence, he walks over to the far corner where the heavy velvet curtains seem to pool against the floor, drawn closed over the tall, narrow window.

his fingers brush the fabric, his eyes narrowing as if he can feel the warmth of you just on the other side. then, in one smooth motion, he grabs the curtain and yanks it open.

“caught you.”

moonlight spills in, illuminating you both. in a second, you’re pressed against the wall, lips parted, cheeks flushed, and his eyes rake over you, lingering on the way your costume accentuates every curve of your body.

he steps in close, his silhouette blocking the light as he cages you in, one hand pressing against the wall beside your head, the other landing on your waist. his gaze drops to your lips, taking time to roam the way you’re biting your lip.

you tilt your chin up, “maybe i just like trouble.”

rafe’s grip on your waist tightens in response, a hunger that he can’t hide, while he’s memorizing the way you’re looking up at him, ready to push him just as far as he can take it.

“you’re in trouble, alrigh’,” he shakes his head, while his hand inches down, slipping lower along your body until his thumb brushes against the curve of your hip, “don’t think you understand what you’re getting yourself into.”

your fingers slide up his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle beneath the thin fabric of his black shirt, the way his heart hammers from your touch alone.

“maybe that’s what i want,” you whisper, tipping your head up so your lips brush against his mask.

he shudders, and you let your fingers trail slowly down, tracing over the line of his collarbone. rafe swallows hard, his body thrumming with tension. his eyes dropping to your mouth once again, wishing he’d been smart enough to take the mask off, so he could kiss you.

“you don’t know what you’re asking for,” he breathes, but the glint in his eyes says otherwise. he’s already melting under your touch, the desperation in the way he holds onto you confessing just how badly he needs it.

“you want me?” you ask, watching his pupils dilate as you lean in even closer, close enough that he can smell the fruity trace of your drink on your breath trough the mask, the lingering sweetness making him light-headed.

jesus fucking christ where have you been all his life?

“yeah,” he mutters, voice strained, eyes half-lidded as he stares down at you, “i want you.” his hand trails up your side, down the line of your dress, stopping just at the hem. he hesitates, holding himself back for your sake, the look in his eyes begging for permission, daring you to say something, to let him go further.

you smirk, letting your fingers slip lower, grazing over the top of his waistband, “’m already so wet for you.”

a rough, almost growling sound escapes his throat as his fingers taunt around you, his control slipping at the admission. “yeah?” he grunts, letting his hand glide under the hem of your dress, his fingers inching higher, grazing along the sensitive skin of your thigh, “lets find out.”

the first brush of his fingers against your thong sends a shiver from your head to your toes, his smirk growing. he’s bold now, unapologetic as he moves them up, grazing the thin barrier of fabric between his hand and you.

your panties are ruined, drenched, and stuck to you most uncomfortably, he can tell from the way you keep pushing your hips forward, begging him to do something.

he doesn’t think twice before using two fingers to pull the sticky fabric to the side.

“fuck,” he mutters to himself, “all this for me?”

you have to bite your lip to stop a moan from slipping out when he finally touches you properly. two of his long, thick fingers press against your entrance, sliding into you with no resistance. the feeling of your cunt clamping around him makes his cock twitch.

he works you open, even the slightest touches have you arching your back from the wall. the need in his eyes turns ravenous with every desperate little gasp you let out. he moves slowly, deliberately, feeling the warmth of you clenching around his him, as he curls his fingers just right,

“you’re so wet, ah, yeah—you’re gonna scream for me?”

his thumb finds your clit with ease, and he presses down, drawing gentle circles that make your knees buckle. he grins, drinking in every sound you’re trying to bite back. his thumb stays steady over your clit, circling with the perfect rhythm, applying just enough pressure to keep you breathless.

“c’me here,” his other hand moves with swift, easy dominance, capturing your wrists and pinning them above your head, holding you firmly against the wall,” you like this shit?”

“you’re gonna fuck me with the mask on?” you grind yourself harder against him, practically delusional from the way he’s making you feel, “kinky.”

he's mesmerized by the way your breasts jolt underneath your dress with each shaky breath you take, your skin feels feverish, heat radiating off it like a furnace.

“just like you wanted,” he promises, his voice filled with satisfaction as his thumb presses down harder, coaxing a soft whimper from your lips. “go on, let me hear it—ride my hand.”

he tightens his hold on your wrists, keeping you perfectly in place, not prying his eyes away from how your brows frow with every grind.

“fuckkkkk, do that again,” you whine when he hits a particular spot, your walls tightening around him in a way that makes him want to stop the foreplay and fuck you right away.

rafe leans forward to coo praise into your ear, “like this?” your skin is sticky with sweat—some saliva too—his. he’s never been this fucking hard in his life. he slows down on purpose, to torture you, doing anything in his power to make you beg, “ooh look at you— a fuckin mess.” he taunts.

“don’t be an asshole,” you groan, fingers itching to be set free, and grab his shoulders so you can slam down on him harder, “you gotta make me cum if you want to fuck me.”

he runs deep circles into your clit making you press your legs together, knowing that he's getting exactly what he wants makes him chuckle into your skin. by this point as he mindlessly humps against your writhing body, he’s peeking down, taking a moment to admire the mess of slickness between your thighs.

“you want more?” you’re so caught up in the feeling that you don’t notice his hand leaving yours, wrapping it around your neck, pulling you closer to him, “answer me”

“another finger,” you spit out when he tightens his grip on your neck, the added touch having you on the brink.

rafe doesn’t even look at you, too entranced by your mess to make eye contact. he never got so lost during sex, but your pussy’s making him intoxicated to the point where his senses are dull, and the part of him that’s fully aware is his dick.

he’s not even inside you yet, and still, he can cum just from seeing you ride his fingers. “another?”

he groans at the way one of your hands move to flex over his, watching in amusement as you try to get him to add one more finger. he mutters a low, gruff “good girl” as he slides a third finger in, pressing just deep enough to make your legs tremble, since you asked so nicely.

“think you can handle more?” rafe prods, “you’re so tight, don’t think you can’t take me.”

the way his fingers work, methodical and relentless, leaves you barely able to breathe, let alone answer.

“i could take t-two of you,” you tease, letting a breath out, and turning your head to face him. god you wondered if he looked good under that mask, but if he was this good in bed, who fucking cared.

“the only thing you’re taking is this fucking costume off,” he grumbles against your shiny lips, fanning like a wild animal catching the scent of its prey. he’s already tugging at the material, pulling the straps to the side before you can, nudging it aside, “look at you. gotta get my hands on you.”

rafe moves his attention to your breast and squeezes firmly, the tips of his fingers clasping down on your nipple, pressing and pulling as he chases after those sweet sounds that leave your lips.

“look at these tits, fuck” he rasps, eyes trailing over your chest and savoring every inch, his breath almost a snarl, “this’ what you wanted?”

you pressed your lips to his neck, ignoring the deep rumble in his chest as you sucked marks into his flesh, nipping him less than gently. grunting at a particularly rough bite you landed just under his adam’s apple, “i wanted your cock not your finger—"

his pitches your nipple harder making you squirm, “watch your fuckin’ mouth.”

the way you’re creaming his hand should be illegal, but this man is clearly sent from above. someone finally listened to you and gave you exactly what you needed to survive your dry spell.

you reach down to cup him up through his jeans, “or what?”

he moans, head dropping to your shoulder, “fuck,” he mutters, his tone conveying that he’s just as distracted, watching how your puffy folds glisten with your arousal.

“hmmm, can’t hear you ghostface.”

rafe’s too entranced to put you in your place, you’ve got him eating out the palm of your hand. the sounds of your pussy sucking in his fingers are obscene, the simple act of your hand grazing cock has his knees buckling.

he can feel his heart beating miles a minute and he swears he could die right there, his hand coming down to grip the swell of your ass, kneading it firmly. you sigh contently with every slow drag of his hand, your head falling on his shoulder, nipping at his neck no doubt marking him up again.

“open your mouth.” you lift your head immediately, no smartass bullshit coming out of your lips, he chuckles breathlessly at your impatience, fingers moving from your ass to your parted hole, “suck my fingers, go on.”

it’s hard to make any coherent thought when his fingers are still inside you, dragging against your spongy walls deliciously, but your tongue automatically slips around his digits, doing your best to suck them down your throat. you’d never felt so willing to let a man bend you however he wants to, hushed curses escaping your occupied mouth, raking your nails down his arm.

“good girl, yeahhhh, that’s it,” he grunts when you prod his skin harder, “you like diggin’ your nails into me, like it rough, huh? ‘course you do,” he stammers out when you clamp harder around him, your slick making everything slippery, “course you fucking do.”

with his fingers buried deep inside you and your lips wrapped around his other hand, rafe’s fully intoxicated, drunker than he can ever get. the sounds you make, he never wanted to taste something so bad, if it wasn’t for his stupid mask—

“take this thing off—" he grinds his hips into you, the rough fabric of his jeans pressing deliciously against your bare skin, teasing you, while his hand leaves your mouth to do nothing else but rip your panties apart.

you let out a huff, glancing down at what’s left of your underwear as he tosses it aside like nothing, already sliding his back up your thigh, “you’re paying for those.”

“whatever you want.”

you’re already occupied with his stupid belt, fingers quickly working to take the damn thing off, pawing at him to help. it’s only then he leaves your pussy unattended, settling his hold on your hips while you fumble with his jeans, unbuttoning them and snapping them open, his bulge straining against the fabric of his boxers.

he grabs the underside of your thigh, picking your leg up and wrapping it around his waist, backing you two further into the wall, eyes gazing into yours, even though you can’t see him. why the fuck do your eyes look so familiar?

the tip of his dick kisses the skin of your pussy, the firm head bumping against your clit as he rubs himself against you, “happy?”

looking down, you watch his cock slide back and forth between your thighs, the friction making heat slowly rise in your core, warmth swarming in your chest. he’s so fucking big. you watch him, eyes half-lidded, your legs aching from the position, almost drooling from the sight alone.

you don’t know how much longer you can let him tease you.

“so happy,” you nod, not tearing your attention from him.

“yeah?” he cocks his head to the side, brows furrowed, concentrating not to cum on the spot with the way you’re eating his cock alive just with your pretty little eyes, “you’re gonna let a stranger fuck you?”

rafe reaches down, teasingly rubbing the tip of his dick over your folds, tracing it over your clit a few times. you look up, lips curling into the most earth-shattering smirk.“i can always find someone el—"

you both groan when he slides into you with no warning, your warm walls enveloping him perfectly, sucking him in like a vice, a perfect tight fit. he pumps you so full, not waiting for any adjustment, your walls fluttering around his girth, thick tip slightly curved up from your position.

“fuck, fuck, fuckkk,” he drawls out, rolling his hips in tight circles, slowly fucking into you, dragging himself along your walls to learn what you like, “this pussy, oh—so good.”

your head falls back against the wall, sighing in pleasure. you want him to let go and beat your walls loose, especially when he looks so good doing it. you melt into him, body sagging, downright losing it with how easily he holds you up and still pounds relentlessly into you, your breathing picking up with his change of pace.

he’s so strong.

“this good enough for ya?” he murmurs against your ear, picking on the way your body shudders, a scream for anyone outside that door to hear, “hmm? you like my voice, right here?”

“you’re gonna make me cum,” you feel yourself grip him harder, his thick cock stretching you open, dragging out moan after moan from your lips, “oh my god.”

it’s the sweetest torture, the way his pelvis smacks against your tummy with every thrust, barely even pulling out to roll back into you.

“such a fuckin’ slut, aren’t you?” he growls, “letting a stranger fuck you open—holy shit, holy shit,” he hisses, almost as if he’s in pain, when you teasingly whine your hips back into him, fluttering at the low sound he breaths right by your ear. “shit, you’re squeezing—fuck.”

“you’re so b-big,” you wheeze at a rough thrust, hand coming down to press against his lower stomach.

“yeah? good enough for you, huh?” his hips increase in rhythm, rocking into you, his thrusts precise, beating against your g-spot with vigor, “takin’ it so good baby.”

by now you’re seeing stars in your vision from the white-hot pleasure shooting up your spine, smart mouth forgotten, “harder.”

“harder?” he’s fucking into you at such a pace you feel like he’s gonna split you in half, “don’t think you can take it.”

“please.”

it sounds too pretty coming out of your mouth. having a girl like you beg feeds his ego like nothing else.

he buries himself so deep, his pelvis is pressed hard against the hilt of your mound, fingers coming down to pinch and roll your neglected clit between his fingers.

“fucking take it then.” rafe snaps his hips with every word, glaring into your teary eyes.

you gasp, nodding your head frantically, too fucked out to even use your words properly when he bottoms out properly, leaving you entirely only to slam inside harder than before. you squeal, not expecting him to use his entire body strength to almost fold in half while you’re still standing.

“no one can h-hear you down here, go ahead,” your mouth runs dry as you feel his body helplessly pressing into yours, “lemme hear those pretty noises, c’mon, scream f’me.”

you’ve never moaned so loud in your life, hands coming up to tweak your nipples, him filling you to the brim, “w-where the fuck have you b-been?”

he chuckles, though it comes out strained, “right here,” he makes a point by ramming into your g-spot perfectly, “hold your leg up f’me.”

for once in your life, you do as you’re told while focusing on his clothed stomach, feeling it constrict with every deep breath he takes.

“you look so pretty like this,” you hear him praise you, one of his hands sliding down the span of your back, coming down to wrap around your hair and forcing your head up, “could fuck you for hours.”

the tip of his dick is kissing right against your cérvix, “not stopping you.”

“yeah? that’s how good is it?” he laughs, “can’t believe stranger cock does it for you.”

you open your mouth to speak, probably to give him shit about how he wouldn’t stop teasing you, but your words run dry as you feel the familiar sensation of his fingers playing with your overstimulated clit. motherfucker.

your body tenses as he builds up the pressure, and a strangled symphony of your wails leaves your sore throat. it’s too much and not enough at the same time, the pressure of his cock as well as his fingers, he’s quite literally fucking you dumb.

“nothin’ to say now, huh?”

the better it feels, the farther gone you’re in your mind, “s-shut the fuck up.”

if you were with someone else, it would bother you that your tits are quite literally out while he’s still dressed, besides the jeans pooling by his ankles, but that stupid black wife beater looks mouthwatering on him.

somehow the outfit and the mask add to the allure, not knowing who’s behind it, but still letting him treat you like a rag doll. you’re bouncing down onto him, almost sniffling as your pussy’s still twitching and soaking, so close to your well-deserved orgasm.

“cum inside,” your head’s starting to sting from how bad you need to cum,“please.”

rafe swears he almost falls on his ass, “what?”

“inside,” you grit out, eyes closed in bliss, “want to feel you cum inside.”

he lets out a groan at the way you say it, “are you serious? oh fuck, what a little cock-slut.” he can’t help but let out a chuckle at your fucked-out state, lost in the chase of your own pleasure to care about how pitiful you look right now, “you’re gonna cum around me? go on,” he coos, kneading at the flesh of your thighs.

you nod, slipping out a high-pitched ‘mhm’, knowing this shit is about to hit you like a train. you arch yourself into him, whimpering lewdly and cutting small moon crescents into his shoulders with your long nails.

rafe feels like he’s lost all ability to fuck anyone else but you, growling at the filthy thoughts swimming through his mind, the urge to fill you up with his cum getting stronger as he enjoys watching you.

a strained whimper escapes you as you lean forward to bury your head in his shoulder, groaning against the skin, “don’t stop.”

“n-never stopping, c’mon,” you swear you see stars while he’s slipping out curses and praises that you’re not even sure make sense. “holy shit, yeahh, fuck.”

he applies a little more pressure to your clit and that’s all it takes for you to be gone, your chest touching his, blinding flashes of paradise filling your vision as you leave reality, having it ripped away from you.

your mouth is parted in the most beautiful oh shape he’s ever witnessed. tears are streaking down your eyes and he can’t help but be turned on by them.

“oh! fuck, fucking—” you squeeze your eyes shut, having no idea how you pulled the words out between continuous sobs that escape from you.

rafe feels like a fucking creep, he can’t take his eyes off you for the life of him, hips snapping animalistically into your pussy while he grunts, groans, and cries as he talks you through it, “that’sss itt, so good, so fuckin’ perfect.”

he tilts your chin up, forcing you to look at him, thumb brushing over your bottom lip.

he’s chasing his orgasm while he watches yours; he all but whines when he releases inside of you, not slowing down in the slightest as he makes sure you take every drop. his hand comes down on your stomach forcing you back down with his python grip, feeling his bulge right there makes his eyes roll as his hand tightens on your waist. you’re still clenching and spasming as you milk him dry, “fuckin’ take it.”

his hips don’t let up, grinding into your core despite him already finishing inside of you. for another ten minutes.

five minutes later, you’re both a little hazy from the endorphin rush, still processing. once he pulls away, rafe feels a lazy grin stretching across his face, feeling more satisfied than ever. unlike the past hour, the room isn’t filled with your moans, but complete silence as you both try to breathe like normal people again, collecting yourselves, adjusting clothes, and then there’s an unspoken agreement that maybe, it’s time to see who’s behind the masks.

you fumble with the edges of the fabric, hesitating for a moment before finally pulling them off, unveiling each other’s faces.

you freeze, staring at him in disbelief.

“you gotta be fucking kiddin’ me,” you nearly burn a hole through his head, eyes narrowing with pure annoyance as you process this disaster, voice dripping with irritation, “what the fuck? rafe?”

he’s completely still, staring at you with his mouth wide open, eyes wide like he’s just seen a ghost—everything you’re hurling at him is going in and out his ears. the realization that he just spent the last hour fucking you is making him dumber. the girl he’d been thinking about, dreaming about, wanting more than he’d ever admit, even to himself.

the anger in your eyes, the annoyed way you’re crossing your arms and glaring at him—it’s so perfectly you. he’s watched you in class a hundred times, always stealing glances when you weren’t looking or cursing his ass off, catching little glimpses of her attitude that only made him want you more.

but he’d never thought he’d get a moment like this.

bless halloween.

“are you even listening to me?” you snap, catching his starstruck expression, waving a hand in front of his face. “hello? earth to cameron? stop looking at me like a puppy, this was a mistake.”

more than a mistake. you can’t believe you just fucked the reason why you didn’t want to come to the party in the very first place.

and the worst part is that you’d do it again.

“i��i just…wow,” he breathes, “it’s really you.” he lets out an incredulous laugh, rubbing a hand over his jaw “can’t believe it.”

you groan, rolling your eyes and shaking your head in exasperation. “are you serious right now?

“can i eat you out?”

you blink, realizing you’ve been staring, “what?”

he takes a step closer, filling the small space between you. you swear the sound of his next words drag a whimper from your throat, “can i eat you out?”

you nearly choke to death as his hand ghost near your waist, the barest brush of contact, sending sparks dancing across your skin, “right now?”

rafe leans down to your size, eager to get on his knees and taste you.

“why not?”

well, fucking damnit.

dont go fucking strangers with ghostface masks at random parties

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ghostedbunnie · 3 months ago

Text

nightmare in the daylight

knight!ghost x fem!reader

based on my prompt that you can find here.

warnings: non-con/dub-con, size kink, spanking, oral (f.receiving), fingering (f.receiving), thigh riding, biting, creampie, breeding kink

a/n: i feel so rusty so please be gentle i rewrote this way too many times, it was a lot longer and had more plot but i might just end up writing pt.2 if there is interest, I added a tag list for those who wanted to see this! 🫶

Ghost hadn't anticipated encountering a robbery on the forest trail while en route to collect his king's future wife. It was unexpected but not unwelcome; he was yearning for a skirmish, for blood and broken bones. The recent tranquility had left him restless. These bandits wouldn't pose much of a challenge, but they would at least satisfy his craving.

The skies began to pour as soon as he dismounted from his horse, startling the highwaymen. They were engaged in a one-sided fight with a few knights who had undoubtedly been sent to protect the carriage on its way to his kingdom. Before any of them could react to his arrival, heads started rolling. Chaos erupted once more, with screams of terror cutting through the forest and startling the remaining fauna.

After the final enemy fell to a sword through his abdomen, Ghost approached the carriage with slow, deliberate steps. As he opened the door, he was taken by surprise as a curtain was thrown into his face and a shard of glass was aimed for his neck by a scrawny, wild-looking maid. Despite your trembling, there was a fierce determination in your eyes, a vow that you would not give up without a struggle. Beneath his face plate, the corner of his mouth curled up, and with a wry snort, he deflected the shard from your bleeding hand. Seizing you by the back of your neck like a feisty kitten showing its claws, he pulled you out of the carriage and dropped you onto the chilly, muddy ground. As he turned back to the carriage to retrieve the princess, he realized she was no warrior; she had fainted at the sight of his imposing figure silhouetted against the moonlight.

As he carries your mistress to his horse, you launch at his back, kicking and screaming, trying to make him let her go. He unceremoniously deposits her on the horse like a sack of potatoes. Finally, he turns back to catch your hands, which have been beating at his back, with one of his much bigger hands. Your eyes go wide with terror as the reality of your position with this beast sinks in. He can't help but relish in the look of you now, wet hair sticking to your face, wild eyes, and scratches on your cheek from the broken glass. You look like a tasty meal for his beastly appetite and he's been starving for far too long. You are unaware of it but attracting his attention will be the worst mistake of your life. As he draws you closer with your bound wrists, he whispers into your ear so that you can hear him over the pouring rain, “Yer brave but stupid, girl.” After that, he hits the back of your neck and everything goes black.

The next thing you know, you are standing in front of the king who explains the entire situation. However, somehow that doesn't help the sinking feeling in your stomach, especially when the king mentions a reward for the behemoth of a man towering over you. He is still covered in blood, and daylight doesn't make him any less terrifying. He stalks around like a nightmare in black leathers that hug his form tight and emphasize his width. As if sensing your thoughts, he takes a step closer, taking up more of your space, and before you can move away, you catch the last words uttered by the king: “You brought me, my bride, Ghost, it's only fair you get a reward. Take your pick - anything you wish for will be yours.”

A weighty, gloved paw settles on the nape of your neck, causing you to startle. "I'll take 'er." Your mistress immediately starts to protest but despite her objections, the king simply nods and smiles, disregarding you entirely. You have no option but to allow the beast, that he called Ghost, to guide you away with a firm hand on your nape.

After navigating through several twists and turns, you find yourself in an unremarkable room. It contains only the absolute necessities—a bed and very little else. The one thing that draws your attention in the room is the sizeable tub that is still emitting steam, indicating it was just filled a few minutes ago.

Silently, Ghost pushes you towards the tub, and you promptly begin to retreat away from it. You refuse to bathe in his presence. Even though you are just a servant, you are still a virtuous lady.

“Either you go voluntarily or I'll throw you in kickin' and screamin'.” He growls and then says, "I'll relish it either way." You can sense the predatory undertone in his voice. You're fighting a losing battle, as going willingly gives him complete control, yet resisting might provoke an even more... primal response.

You break free from his hold, realizing that he let you go willingly.

"Can you... turn around?" he scoffs, moving to a chair that creaks under his weight. Leaning forward, elbows on his knees, he gestures for you to proceed. Though you want to scream or lash out, you hold back, sensing that he's waiting for you to lose control. Instead, you turn around and slowly peel off your muddied and torn dress. As you reach the chemise underneath, you sneak a peek and notice he has removed his helmet and face plate, revealing short dirty blond hair, black coal marks around his eyes, and prominent scars cutting through his lips and brow. Despite his broken nose, he remains strangely alluring, which frightens you. Hastily, you turn back, slide the chemise down, and attempt to hide under the steaming water.

"Good girl," he growls, satisfied with your obedience. Just as the relief that maybe this is all he wanted starts to sink into your bones, it's replaced with dread when you notice he starts shedding his clothes too. He loosens up his dark, blood-stained leathers with ease and deftness you wouldn't expect from a man his size.

"What are you doing?" Panic is evident in your question, but it doesn't seem to bother him at all.

"Can't bathe with my clothes on," he answers matter-of-factly. Once again, a wave of indignation courses through you, but it's quickly overshadowed by a pang of heat that forces you to rub your thighs together underwater. Your eyes can't help but stay glued to him, just as he did to you when you were taking your dress off. He is now down to his breeches, and when he pulls them down his thick thighs, you audibly gasp when you notice he is not wearing anything underneath. This earns you an amused chuckle, especially when he catches you looking again through your fingers.

Your mouth goes dry at the sight of him, but before your thoughts can drift to what lies between his powerful thighs, he steps into the tub with you. Water spills over the edges, though he doesn't seem to mind. He pulls you close, turning you so your back presses against him, your body nestled between his legs, leaning on his firm chest. The light tickle of his hair brushes against your skin, and his strong arm rests across your stomach, fingers splayed making you feel even smaller. The contact makes you squirm, but as you try to pull away, you only stir the hardening length behind you, making you flush with heat.

“Relax,” he grunts into your ear, more command than a suggestion.

“How can I possibly –ah.” Your reply gets cut off by a moan as his other hand falls from the edge of the tub and wanders between your legs. Your attempts at closing your legs seem futile even with one hand he is strong enough to force his way in and drag his fingers through your folds nearing the opening. Your spine arches instinctively and he answers with a nip to your neck and jaw, while forcing a finger up to the first knuckle in.

“Gotta loosen you up a bit, pet.” You have no choice but to surrender to his touch as he sinks his finger in and curls it, drawing a moan out of you before you clap a hand over your mouth to keep the sounds in. But all that decorum is forgotten when he adds a second one and scissors them before slowly prodding you with the third making you see stars. The tension building in your body suddenly snaps, sending you reeling, legs going numb and your fingers digging into his arm still wrapped around your stomach.

With your mind hazy from your first-ever orgasm, you don't even register that he pulls you out of the bath, drying you, and carrying you to the bed in the center of the spacious room. Your body already half asleep.

His gravelly voice pulls you out of your post-orgasmic haze. “Naive, little thing.” Suddenly he is trailing hungry, open-mouthed, and nippy kisses down the length of your body. Marking your neck and collarbones with angry red marks, biting down harder than necessary on the underside of your breast leaving behind imprints of his teeth, and making you hiss when the pain mixes with the pleasure, he licks a trail down your stomach and in a moment of clear-headedness you try to fist his hair and tug him up and away from your center but his hair is cut too short for any leverage. When you lock eyes with him, between your legs forcing them open with hunger and lust written all over his face you try to get away just for him to deliver a loud smack to your outer thigh before dragging you closer and licking a stripe through your folds with a loud guttural groan that you feel more than you hear it.

His thumb circles your clit while he alternates kissing, sucking, and fucking you with his tongue. When your squirming in an attempt to get away turns into grinding your hips against his face, his other hand rests on your stomach adding slight pressure and making you cry out which only spurs him on. The sounds that reverberated through his chest were nothing short of animalistic and when your second orgasm shot through your core, you fell limp against the sheets with a moan that would make you blush if at least half of your brain was still functioning properly. A new wave of panic sets in when you realize that he isn't stopping. On the contrary, he probes you with his fingers in addition to his tongue. You can feel the coil in your lower belly tightening again, heating up with his ministrations.

You plead with him, saying you can't take anymore just for him to disregard it with a growl, “You've got plenty more in ya.”

You've lost count of how many times you came when he manhandled you around onto your hands and knees propping your hips up with a pillow. You turn to look at him with heavy-lidded eyes and your breath catches in your throat at the sight of him standing behind you with his massive hand tugging at his thick, angry-looking, and leaking cock with his eyes glued to your core, still pulsing and wet from all your previous orgasms. Without warning he grabs your hips, aligns the blunt head of his cock with your entrance, and pushes in. Your fingers dig into the sheets from the sheer stretch as you mewl and whimper when he drags himself all the way to slam back in. Everything is too much and not enough at the same time, with every thrust his fingers dig into your hips and you are sure there will be fingerprints left with how hard he is gripping you and the idea makes you wetter. Prompted by the delicious drag of his cock your walls keep tightening around him, as he pushes you closer and closer to your release. One of his muscular arms circles your waist, his chest flush to your back, as his other arm comes to rest next to your head with one of his legs still firmly planted on the floor and the other resting next to you on the bed for better purchase. This new angle combined with the gravelly grunts so close to your ear become your undoing and you hurtle full-force into another mind-numbing orgasm with Ghost following close behind.

“Come f'r me, pet.” Again, not a suggestion but a command and who are you to refuse him? So you do as he says, pussy fluttering from the aftershocks as he fucks you through it, thumb circling your clit before he fills you up, not allowing you to move an inch, keeping your hips propped up and when he pulls out which drags another set of whimpers from you he meticulously pushes his spend back with thick, calloused fingers. “Gotta make sure it takes.”

If your consciousness weren't slipping away, you'd likely be alarmed, but instead, your eyes begin to close again, and this time, sleep claims you.

You wake to a heavy weight pressing down on your back, and it takes a moment for your mind to catch up with the events of yesterday. When it does, your entire body flushes and you attempt to move out of bed, only to find it futile. You're pinned beneath strong arms marked with scars—some from arrows, large and small, and others older, circular, and still appearing raw.

Your thoughts are abruptly interrupted as a thick, muscular thigh presses deeper between your legs, forcing them apart. Without much thought, you begin to grind against it, a primal urge stirring within you. Despite the lingering soreness from yesterday, a fresh wave of need starts to build, and any trace of resistance fades in the face of overwhelming pleasure. It feels shameful, but you can't stop the tentative movements, slowly finding a rhythm—until the sudden flex of his thigh makes you gasp, your eyes rolling back.

“So needy,” he growls close to your ear but there's no trace of anger in his voice, if anything he sounds pleased. “Come on, ride it harder.” He punctuates the sentence with yet another flex of his thigh and a nip to your neck, making you shudder but follow through with his command. As you grind back against his thigh you take a note of his cock stirring, resting heavy and hard between your bare ass. You push against it absentmindedly and find yourself pinned under him, your legs still held apart with his thigh that's now embarrassingly slick with your arousal. The visual of it makes you turn your head away, eyes closed and whimpering. Ghost doesn't like that. His massive paw of a hand grabs at your cheeks, your lips puckering involuntarily while he grunts at you to keep those eyes open for him. As he licks into your mouth, it suddenly dawns on you—this is your first kiss. You had already let this beast inside you before even sharing a kiss, and everything felt so out of order, that it made you want to scream and cry. Instead, you settle on throwing your hands around him and clawing at his back as he aligns himself with your needy, sore pussy and thrusts to the hilt without so much as a warning.

Even after yesterday, the burn of the stretch to accommodate his length makes fresh tears spring up into your eyes and roll down the apples of your cheeks. You swear you see his scarred lips twitch up into a savage smile at the sight of them before he licks them clean off your cheeks with a satisfied groan. In retaliation you dig your nails deeper into his sturdy back, hoping to break the skin and leave a mark that only ends up urging him to fuck you harder, faster. The sounds reverberating in the room drive you crazy; over them, you don't even notice a soft knock at the door but whoever it was scurries away registering the sound of the moans he wrings out of you with one particularly hard thrust that pushes so deep you swear you can feel him in your throat. Effortlessly he manhandles your legs on his shoulders to hit a different angle. As you struggle with the overwhelming feeling of fullness he leaves a deceptively soft kiss on your ankle before he folds you in half again and wrestles another mind-shattering orgasm out of you and succumbing to one himself, painting your insides with his spent. Pulling out, he doesn't bother moving, he simply rests his head on your chest between your breasts, squeezing the air out of your lungs with the sheer size of him. “Rest now, pet. Plenty of time for more o' that later.”

At that moment, you know there is no turning back; you've been taken, branded from the inside out. You wonder if this is truly so horrible, perhaps this nightmare of a man will drive away all the other nightmares plaguing your mind.

Or perhaps he is even more dreadful than your imagination could have ever conjured.

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#cod mw2 #cod x reader #x reader insert #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #bunnie writes #tw noncon #tw dubcon #simon riley x reader #cod smut

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