#tonight is beyond evil night | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mintyys-blog · 1 month ago

Text

RAIN CHECK — dick grayson x reader

WARNINGS: smut, interrupted sex

The universe was actively conspiring against you and Dick Grayson.

It had been an entire month since you had gotten your hands on him properly, and every single time you tried, something interrupted. At first, it was almost funny—a minor inconvenience, a little bad luck. But after the sixth time? It was personal.

Attempt one: A perfect date night. Wine, candles, your dress slipping off your shoulders as Dick kissed down your neck. Then—his comms buzzed. Emergency. Gotham needed Nightwing.

Attempt two: A weekend getaway. Just the two of you in a cozy cabin. No crime, no distractions. Just as things were heating up? Your best friend called in full-blown crisis mode. She’d just been dumped and showed up at your door, crying into your robe.

Attempt three: The worst one. You were actually naked this time, pinned under him on your bed, fingers tangled in his hair, both of you breathless. Then—Alfred called. And you both knew better than to ignore that call.

And on and on it went.

A car chase. A literal explosion. Jason barging into Dick’s apartment unannounced, flopping onto the couch with a “Don’t mind me.”

By week three, you were beyond frustrated. At week four, you were considering drastic measures.

So, tonight? It was happening. No interruptions. No excuses.

Dick had just finished patrol when you called, your voice dripping with honey.

“Hey, handsome. You busy?”

He smirked, already peeling off his domino mask as he entered his apartment. “Not anymore. What’s up?”

You bit your lip. “I’m home alone… and I was thinking about you.”

That got his attention.

“Yeah?” His voice dropped an octave.

“Mhm. And I may or may not be wearing a satin robe and absolutely nothing underneath it.”

Silence. Then a sharp exhale.

“Give me ten minutes,” he said, already grabbing his keys.

You grinned, twirling a piece of your hair. “I was hoping for five, but I’ll take it.”

“Brat,” he muttered affectionately before hanging up.

He was on his bike in seconds, weaving through the streets of Blüdhaven, hell-bent on getting to you.

And then, because fate had a twisted sense of humor, he saw the flashing lights.

A bank robbery.

“Son of a—”

Gritting his teeth, he veered toward the chaos, pulling on his mask mid-ride. He parked a block away and hit his comm.

“Babe, change of plans. Quick detour.”

You sighed, swirling your wine in your glass. “Should I even ask?”

“Bank robbery. Five guys. Shouldn’t take long.”

You took a sip. “Mmm, take your time. I’ll just be here… in my robe… all alone.”

Dick groaned. “You’re evil.”

Then you heard it—the unmistakable sounds of combat. Grunts, the crack of a punch landing, the sharp zing of his escrima sticks.

Then gunfire.

You tensed, gripping the stem of your glass. “Dick?”

“Still here, babe,” he gritted out, followed by a loud thud—probably a body hitting the floor.

You rolled your eyes, propping your feet up on the coffee table. “You better not be getting shot while I’m sitting here half-naked waiting for you.”

“Not a scratch, promise.”

More scuffling, then silence. A second later, his voice came through, breathless but victorious.

“Alright, I’m back on the bike. ETA four minutes.”

You smirked. “Mmm, you gonna make it up to me, Nightwing?”

“You have no idea.”

You bit your lip. “Hurry, baby.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You hung up, anticipation thrumming through you.

And, true to his word, exactly four minutes later, your living room window slid open.

Dick stepped inside, still in full Nightwing gear, his hair wind-swept and messy. His mask was on, but you could see the heat in his gaze as he looked at you—your satin robe loose around your body, wine glass still in hand.

“Hi,” you purred.

He exhaled, shaking his head with a grin. “God, I missed you.”

Then he was on you, his lips crashing against yours, lifting you effortlessly.This time, nothing was going to interrupt. His lips crashed against yours, hot and desperate, like he had been starving for this just as much as you had. His gloved hands gripped your waist, pulling you flush against him, the cool material of his suit contrasting with the warmth of your bare skin beneath your robe.

You barely had a moment to breathe before he was walking you backward, his mouth never leaving yours. You let out a soft gasp as the backs of your knees hit the couch, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours with a hunger that sent shivers down your spine.

“You’re still in your suit,” you murmured against his lips, fingers tracing the emblem on his chest.

“Couldn’t wait,” he admitted, voice husky. “Didn’t even take off my boots.”

You smirked, running your hands up his chest, feeling the hard lines of his armor. “Well, I do like a man in uniform.”

Dick groaned, dropping his head to your neck, kissing along your pulse point. “You are so lucky I love you.”

You grinned, tilting your head to give him better access. “Mm, I really am.”

His hands slid to the tie of your robe, his fingers brushing over the silky fabric. He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his expression dark with want. “Can I?”

You exhaled slowly, nodding. “God, yes.”

He tugged the robe open, his hands skimming your sides as he pushed it off your shoulders. The cool air sent goosebumps across your skin, but his touch was burning hot, his gaze drinking you in like he was trying to memorize every inch of you.

“Jesus,” he breathed, his hands tightening on your hips. “You’re so—”

The ringing of his comm cut him off.

You both froze.

Your eyes widened in horror as Dick let out a slow, controlled exhale through his nose. He squeezed his eyes shut, muttering something under his breath before tapping the device in his ear.

“Grayson, we need you back at—”

He ripped the comm out of his ear and tossed it across the room.

Your eyes flicked from the now-silent device to his face.

“That’s it,” he said, voice dangerously low. “I am done being interrupted.”

Before you could even process, he grabbed you, lifting you effortlessly into his arms. A startled laugh left your lips as he carried you toward your bedroom, his lips crashing against yours again.

“Door locked, comms off, phones on silent,” he murmured between kisses.

“Agreed,” you breathed, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Good,” he growled. “Because you’re not getting rid of me until morning.”

Dick kicked the bedroom door shut behind him, his grip on you firm yet reverent, like he was afraid you’d slip away if he let go.

“You say that like I’d want to get rid of you,” you teased, your breath hitching as his fingers dug into your thighs, still holding you effortlessly.

“You better not after everything we’ve been through just to get here,” he murmured, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your jaw, then another down your neck. “I swear, if someone knocks on that door—”

“They won’t,” you promised, threading your fingers through his dark hair and tugging just enough to earn a delicious groan from him. “And even if they do, I’m not answering.”

“Good,” he murmured before finally lowering you onto the bed. He hovered over you, his masked gaze raking over your body, his gloved hands tracing slow, deliberate patterns on your skin.

You sighed contentedly, stretching beneath him, knowing full well the effect it had on him. His breath stuttered, his jaw tightening as you arched your back ever so slightly.

“You’re gonna kill me,” he muttered, shaking his head.

“Not before you make it worth my while.”

That was all the encouragement he needed.

Dick rolled his shoulders, exhaling sharply before finally—finally—tugging off his gloves, then his domino mask, tossing them both to the side. His bright blue eyes met yours, intense and full of heat.

Then he was kissing you again—deeper, slower, more possessive. His hands slid over every inch of exposed skin, like he was making up for lost time, like he was claiming you.

And you? You had absolutely no objections.

You reached for the fastenings of his suit, but he grabbed your wrists, pinning them above your head with ease. “Uh-uh,” he murmured against your lips. “I go first.”

A shiver ran through you at the dark promise in his voice.

“You gonna take your time with me, Grayson?” you teased, your pulse quickening.

He smirked, his grip tightening just enough to send a thrill down your spine.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured, lips ghosting over your ear. “You have no idea.”

The way he looked at you—like he’d been starving for you, like he was memorizing every inch of you—sent heat pooling low in your stomach.

“Dick,” you breathed, shifting beneath him, trying to free your wrists.

He just smirked, holding you there with ease. “Something you need?”

“Yeah,” you said, arching slightly to brush your body against his. “Less clothes.”

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. “Patience.”

You huffed, rolling your hips up against him in retaliation. That wiped the smirk off his face. His grip on your wrists faltered for half a second—just long enough for you to slip free and push at the seams of his suit.

“Not fair,” he muttered, though he was already helping you peel off the top half of his suit, shoving it down his arms and tossing it to the floor.

You sucked in a sharp breath. No matter how many times you’d seen him like this, it never got old—the way his muscles flexed under your touch, the scars that told stories of battles won, the way his chest rose and fell, his breaths growing heavier with every second.

Your fingers traced the defined ridges of his abdomen, then dragged up to his shoulders. “You’re so beautiful,” you murmured, just because you could.

A faint pink dusted his cheeks, but the look in his eyes darkened. “Sweetheart,” he warned, voice rough.

You grinned, pulling him down for another kiss. This one was slower, deeper, your hands threading into his hair as his weight pressed you into the mattress.

His lips trailed lower, down the column of your throat, to your collarbone, and lower still. Each kiss, each lingering touch, felt like an unspoken apology for every interrupted moment before this one.

And for the first time in weeks, there was nothing standing in your way. No comms buzzing in his ear, no phone ringing at the worst possible moment. Just the two of you, tangled together, making up for lost time.

And when he finally, finally gave you what you wanted, you were both in full agreement— No more rain checks.

The night unfolded in slow, deliberate movements—like the two of you were savoring every second, making up for every lost moment, every interruption that had kept you apart.

Dick worshipped you, his hands mapping your body like he was relearning every inch of you, his lips tracing paths of fire across your skin. He took his time, dragging out every touch, every kiss, making you feel the frustration of the past month melt away in waves of pleasure.

And when he finally, finally gave in, it was nothing short of desperate.

Your name spilled from his lips like a prayer, his voice hoarse as he groaned against your skin. His grip on your hips was firm but reverent, his body pressed against yours as he moved with slow, deep strokes that had you clinging to him, gasping his name between breathless moans. He slid in easily, your body aching for him.

“Fuck, baby,” he muttered against your neck, his breath ragged, his muscles tensing beneath your touch. “You feel so good…”

Your fingers raked down his back, nails leaving faint red lines in their wake. “Don’t stop,” you pleaded, tilting your head back, letting him press open-mouthed kisses to your throat. Your legs locked around his waist, and he pulled your hips closer.

“Not a chance,” he groaned.

His movements were unrelenting, each thrust sending sparks of heat through you, winding you tighter and tighter until you were right there, gripping onto him for dear life.

“Dick—”

“I got you, sweetheart,” he murmured, his forehead pressing against yours, his breath hot against your lips. “Let go.”

And you did.

The pleasure crashed over you in waves, your body arching into him as he guided you through it, his lips murmuring soft praises against your skin. He followed soon after, a deep, shuddering groan leaving his lips as he buried himself deep, his body tensing before he finally collapsed against you, breathless and spent.

For a long moment, the only sounds in the room were your mingled breaths, your fingers idly tracing patterns on his back as he pressed lazy kisses to your shoulder.

Then, finally, he chuckled—low and satisfied. “Worth the wait?”

You exhaled a soft laugh, threading your fingers through his messy hair. “Hell yes.”

He rolled onto his side, pulling you with him so you were tucked against his chest, his arm draped over your waist. “Good,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”

You arched a brow, smirking. “Oh?”

His grip on you tightened slightly, his blue eyes dark with mischief. “Baby, I just spent a month pent up for you. I owe you at least three more rounds.”

You laughed, tangling your legs with his. “That so?”

“Oh, absolutely.” He kissed you again, slower this time, full of promises.

And this time, there was nothing standing in your way.

The second time was slower, almost lazy—like he was savoring every inch of you, making up for lost time. His lips traced along your jaw, down your neck, his hands mapping your body as he moved against you with deliberate, intoxicating precision.

The third time? Filthy.

By then, neither of you had anything left to prove. No teasing, no buildup—just pure, raw desperation. Dick had you pressed into the mattress, his name falling from your lips in breathless gasps as he drove into you like he was making up for every second you’d spent apart. Your legs were thrown over his shoulders, as he drove in as deeply as he could.

And when it was over, when you were both thoroughly spent and tangled together in the sheets, you lay there in the aftermath, your body still humming from him.

Dick sighed deeply, his fingers tracing absentminded circles on your bare back. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this relaxed in my entire life.”

You chuckled against his chest, pressing a lazy kiss over his heartbeat. “I told you all you needed was a night off.”

He hummed, tilting his head back against the pillow, his eyes slipping shut. “Yeah, well. Next time, we’re taking two nights off.”

You smirked, running your fingers through his messy hair. “Mm. You planning ahead, Grayson?”

“Oh, absolutely,” he muttered, shifting to pull you even closer. “I’m never going a month without this again.”

You exhaled a soft laugh, nuzzling into him. “Guess I should keep the satin robe handy then?”

He groaned, rolling onto his side so he could kiss you again, deep and slow. “Sweetheart, if you wear that robe again, I will cancel patrol.”

You grinned against his lips. “Promises, promises.”

He smirked, brushing his nose against yours. “You love when I break the rules.” You kissed his jaw, “so no more rain checks?” He laughed, pulling you closer, “No more rain checks, babe.”

#x reader #reader insert #x female reader #dc #dc comics #dc universe #dick grayson smut #dick grayson x you #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson #nightwing x y/n #nightwing x you #nightwing x reader #nightwing #girlfriend! reader #smut #dc smut #nightwing smut

911 notes · View notes

captain-hawks · 2 months ago

Note

matsukawa + mark him? >:33

KNEE DEEP IN THE PASSENGER SEAT.

matsukawa issei x reader — 2k, suggestive, marking, hickeys, kissing, friends to lovers, seijoh 4 banter

“It’s not that big of a deal,” Matsukawa groans, pinching the bridge of his nose and scrubbing a hand down his face.

He takes a peek over at you where you’re sitting beside him cross-legged on Oikawa’s living room floor, back against the couch, as if to say, please back me up here.

You shrug, looking at Hanamaki. “I mean Mattsun hates her, it’s not like we have to worry about him relapsing back into the most toxic relationship of his life because she just so happens to be going to the same party as us tonight.”

Makki groans loudly, placing his drink on the coffee table with a little more force than necessary. Iwaizumi glances up from scrolling through his phone, brow raised.

“That’s not the problem,” Makki sighs, tracing a finger through the wet ring of condensation left behind on the table’s surface from the last time that he moved his can.

Oikawa smacks his hand, and Makki mutters something under his breath before pulling down the sleeve of his hoodie to wipe it up, and Iwaizumi barely glances his way as he flicks a coaster toward him.

“I’m not going to talk to her,” Matsukawa adds, reaching over to pick a piece of lint off of your top.

Fingers threading into his pale pink tresses, Makki glares at him. “That’s my point. You’re going to ignore her all night—rightfully so, she’s an evil witch and I will disown you if you so much as think about making her my girlfriend in-law again—”

Iwaizumi cuts him off, “What the fuck is a girlfriend in-law?”

Matsukawa blinks, “I don’t think that’s how you use that word—”

“ANYWAY, you’re going to ignore her, and she’s going to spend all night stalking around the perimeter of our group like a bloodthirsty wolf—”

“I need you to stop finding a way to insert a Twilight reference into every conversation—” Iwaizumi mutters.

“How the fuck is that Twilight? Can everyone stop interrupting me? Mattsun, for fuck’s sake. She cornered me outside the bathroom at Yahaba’s last time and spent twenty minutes trying to Sherlock Holmes her way into finding out where your dick’s been lately…” He trails off, eyes going wide as he turns to look at you.

Your heart rocks violently in your chest at the implication, and you valiantly fight the urge to cast an accusing glance Oikawa’s way.

Because he’s the only one that knows you’re in love with Mattsun.

And if he told Iwaizumi and Iwaizumi told Makki and now Makki’s about to—

You’re going to be sick.

Probably.

Maybe.

Not right here though, because throwing up on Oikawa’s new shag carpet (despite the fact that it’s the ugliest thing you’ve ever seen) inches away from Mattsun’s feet would make this the most mortifying moment of your life.

(Not that it won’t be a record-breaking runner-up either way.)

Iwaizumi speaks up suddenly, a surprisingly thoughtful look on his face. “She was always paranoid that the two of you were hooking up.”

You steal a quick glance Oikawa’s way, and he subtly shakes his head.

He didn’t say anything.

He might be insufferable most days, but you’ve been friends with him longer than anyone else in this room, and he knows what this secret means to you—

But still, Iwaizumi’s statement is news to you. It’s completely and entirely false and nothing more than a headline from your pathetic reoccurring dreams.

And it’s dizzying, the way your chest lurches as it sinks in.

Mattsun coughs.

“She what?” you squeak out.

Makki’s answering grin is downright predatory.

Ten minutes later, you’re sitting in front of Matsukawa trying to stave off the flood of warmth that blooms in your gut under the steady weight of his gaze. He runs a hand through his hair, eyes briefly darting somewhere beyond your shoulder—probably to look at Hanamaki.

“We have to leave soon, chop chop.” Speak of the fucking devil.

You swallow as your throat goes impossibly dry. “Can’t we just like, hold hands?” you ask the pink-haired imp.

“Holding hands is easy, a fool’s errand,” he sighs dramatically. Like he’s reading a goddamn Shakespearean monologue. “A trashy hickey is forever.”

“A week, two tops,” Iwaizumi corrects him in a bored tone.

Oikawa sounds downright gleeful as he asks, “How would you know, Iwa-chan?”

Iwaizumi grunts something back, but you don’t hear him over the sound of Mattsun’s voice. “You don’t have to—”

Makki huffs in annoyance, throwing the small metal tab from his drink can at him, and Matsukawa catches it without looking.

“She’s going to see the two of you together at the party, and she’s going to see the big, sexy, dirty hickey on Mattsun’s neck like a big, obnoxious billboard—”

“I know a big, obnoxious billboard alright,” Mattsun mutters, only loud enough so that you can hear, and you snort.

“—and she’s going to finally accept the fact that our dear, precious Issei wants nothing to do with her wicked, scheming ways, because he’s actually madly, deeply, passionately in love with—”

Mattsun’s head jerks up, eyes a little wide, but you don’t have time to contemplate the look that crosses his face when Makki’s suddenly cut off. Turning your head slightly, you catch sight of Oikawa tackling him to the ground.

Iwaizumi sighs, staring at them with all the interest of a man watching two bugs fighting in the dirt before returning his attention to his phone.

You look at Matsukawa again, taking the inner edge of your bottom lip between your teeth. “Where should I….”

He breathes in slowly, eyes searching yours for a moment before he tips his head slightly, baring the left side of his neck. And if that’s not enough to have sweat collecting in the center of your palms, you momentarily forget how to breathe when he spreads his legs, silently beckoning you to slip between them.

Warmth slides down your spine at how unnervingly natural it feels to crawl between Matsukawa’s legs, to put something into practice that you’ve unfortunately imagined more times and in more ways than you can count.

There’s a brief moment where you wonder why you didn’t just remain sitting beside him, why you didn’t just lean in sideways and carry this out in a far more platonic position—

But then his hand brushes somewhere in the vicinity of your outer thigh, and all you can smell is the familiar scent of his laundry detergent, and suddenly you find that your lips are hovering barely three inches away from the smooth expanse of skin that makes up the side of his neck.

And Mattsun mistakes your hesitation for something else, a warm laugh rumbling in his chest and brushing down your spine. “Bite as hard as you want, I like it rough.”

You know he’s joking.

He’s trying to lighten the moment, to make you laugh.

To stave off the awkward hesitation that’s probably written across every facet of your body language.

—but all it does is turn the heat churning in your gut positively molten as his words confirm something you already had a feeling was true.

(Something that has your thigh muscles instinctively trembling as you fight the urge to squeeze them together at the thought.)

Matsukawa tenses beneath you for a moment when your lips meet his neck, and you stiffen in turn, waiting for the inevitable regret, the unrequited rejection…

His hand slides up your nape, cupping the back of your head in a way that he likely thinks is reassuring (in a way that’s going to probably ruin you forever after this.)

“Just do it,” he encourages you.

So you do.

And you don’t mean to get so into it.

But there’s a starved, unreasonable part of your brain that takes over when you start to bite and suck at Matsukawa’s neck, alternating between rolling his skin between your lips and teeth and running your tongue over it after.

Every other bit of uncertainty fades into background noise when you feel Matsukawa react. When his shoulders go pliant, when his head tilts even more to the side—baring himself to you even further. When you swear you feel him push down on your head like he wants you to go harder.

When his free arm wraps around your waist and clutches your hip.

When his thighs press against you, caging you in (and there’s a delirious, faraway laugh that bubbles up in the back of your head as you imagine that he’s holding you there, that he doesn’t want you to stop).

When you bite and suck and lick and—

—and he fucking groans.

“Should we really be watching—” you think you hear Oikawa ask from somewhere behind you, followed by a yelp from him and a grunt from Iwaizumi.

Matsukawa’s exhale is downright ragged when you pull back slightly to observe your work, fingers clutching his shirt in an attempt to hide the way your hands are trembling.

“Should I—” you start, more than a little breathless and not exactly sure what you even intend to ask as you stare down at the bruise that’s already blooming against his skin.

Something possessive yawns awake inside of you, and you try to suppress the full-body shiver that dances down your nerves like spider silk.

Matsukawa stares at you for a beat, chest rising and falling, and he looks—

He tilts his head the other way. “Just in case,” he explains, his voice like gravel.

This time, you hear the sound of footsteps padding across the floor and the patio door sliding open, and the room goes quiet other than the sound of your breathing as you press your lips to the opposite side of Matsukawa’s neck.

He inhales sharply, and you momentarily find yourself lost to the pull of gravity as he fully reclines with his back against the carpet and pulls you directly on top of him.

Your heart thunders in your chest as you realize that you’re now fully straddling Mattsun, fingers somehow finding their way in his dark, messy curls as you mouth at his skin in an attempt to match your first canvas. One of his large hands slides across your lower back, and scorching heat blooms through your shirt under the deceiving weight of his touch.

He breathes out your name, the sound reverberating in your eardrums alongside the sound of rushing blood, and he cups your cheek as you stare down at him, faces scant centimeters apart.

Your eyes dart to his lips, to the way they’re parted slightly, and it takes everything in your power not to wholly collapse into him like a dying star taking its last brilliant breath when his thumb carefully strokes the hinge of your jaw.

He glances at your mouth in turn.

“I don’t think that’ll leave a mark—” you weakly start to joke.

“Are you sure?” he asks.

You swallow. “I guess we should test it out, just to see…”

Matsukawa stares up at you. “Do you want to?” It’s a loaded question.

“Yes,” you whisper.

Your lips have barely finished forming the word before Matsukawa flips you over without warning and pins you beneath him on the carpet, his mouth crashing into yours.

You’re oddly thankful for the plush embrace of Oikawa’s ugly carpet as you sink into it, trapped between the multi-color fibers and the all-encompassing warmth of everywhere Matsukawa’s body is flush with yours.

An embarrassingly needy sound crawls up your throat when his tongue darts across the seam of your lips before slipping into your mouth to deepen the kiss. You unconsciously start to card your fingers through his soft hair and he groans into your mouth in turn, leaving a sticky trail of saliva between your lips with each slick, hungry kiss he presses to them.

“Hey, we should probably get go—” the patio door slides open, and Makki’s voice floats into the room.

Iwaizumi barks something at him, and the door slams shut, cutting off the sound of their bickering as Oikawa laughs.

But you can hardly hear it—

Mattsun’s lips slow against yours, and he pulls back slightly, only to lean back in and press another lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“Hi,” he says.

You blink up at him, reaching a hand up to rest against his jaw, your thumb just barely skirting his bottom lip. He gently bites the tip of it.

“Hi,” you whisper back.

#matsukawa issei #matsukawa issei x reader #haikyuu #dee writes #noun/verb drabbles #seijoh 4

433 notes · View notes

harpsinfinity · 2 months ago

Note

hi hello!! may I request an office au of rookie leon with some smut? we‘re a rank higher than him and he‘s so whipped that he‘s willing to get on his knees if y/n asks + a specific scene where we‘re both working late and alone in the office then y/n tugs on leon‘s tie and one thing leads to another and he’s super super submissive mweheheh >:)

You're an evil genius I LOVE IT

As the manager, it was one of your main priorities to make sure every report was sent out to where it needed to be. In perfect form and on time

Enter Leon, secretly your favourite employee around the office. He always brought you coffee, he somehow memorised your order. His reports were always perfect, sent where they needed to be before the due date

He was the model employee

Little did you know he had a big fat crush on you, he wanted to feel guilty, ashamed that he was absolutely whipped for his boss. But whenever you entered the room, those feelings melted away

Just a single stare from you could bring him to his knees, be your good boy. It was embarrassing how everytime he laid his eyes on you, he popped a boner and had to take care of himself in the bathroom. His face flushed red as he came out

Tonight was another late night in the office, just you and Leon working to get a big project finished for corporate.

11:47pm

Damn, it was really getting late. And the two of you were exhausted and wanting to throw in the towel.

"I don't suppose there's much left is th-"

"done !"

Leon interjected, the bright screen of the computer glowing in his face

"we're good to go, all finished"

He grinned, spinning his chair to face you.

You were amazed, he really was your best worker in the office. And, he really deserved a reward. Didn't he? A reward for always going above you beyond

You sit in the chair facing him as you spoke

"Leon, I've got to say. You are my most hardworking individual here"

You notice his cheeks heat up, a bashful look playing on his features. a smirk gracing your lips as a flustered

"thank you"

Tumbles from his lips

You slip a hand around his tie, tugging him forward like a dog on a lead. Your other hand places itself on his thigh

"you deserve a reward"

You mutter, his lips now centimetres from yours. Your hand trailing further up his thigh, feeling the already growing bulge

"i-is this even allowed?"

He stuttered and fumbled over his words, only making him more flustered and cute.

"surely it can stay between us, can't it?"

Leon muffles a whimper as you begin to palm him through his pants

"just a hard working employee being rewarded by his boss"

one thing led to another,

Your head ended up in his lap, sucking the life out of him. The whines and pants of the man above you had you dripping. But this wasn't about you, it was about him. Your favourite worker

His hips bucked every time the sensitive tip of him hit the back of your throat, a sharp whimper following suit. A string of pleas and praises seeping from his drool coated lips

You could tell his mind was swimming, swimming with nothing but the thoughts of you. How long he'd stroked himself raw imagining it was your hand instead of his, whispering into his ear to guide him into nothing but bliss

You replace your mouth his your hand, pumping him at a maddening pace while your rested your cheek on his thigh

"such a good boy for me"

you cooed, having the satisfaction of feeling his cock twitch and throb at every praise you gave him.

"ohh- fuck! please don't stop, pleasepleaseplease!"

A grin played on your lips, he was so desperate. So sensitive and eager for you, his boss. Hearing him yelp every time your thumb rubbed at the slit of him

It didn't take long for him to spill all over your hand, his chest heaving and eyes glossy as he entered a blissful, pleasure drunk haze

It also didn't take long for him to end up balls deep inside of you, bouncing on his still sensitive cock like no tomorrow

Your lips on his as you gave him the best reward you could

"y-you feel- ngh! so- so good !"

You rode him until he was sniffling, tears of esctacy staining his cheeks. coming inside of you felt better than over your hand, sending dizzying shockwaves up his spine in bursts that exploded in his stomach.

The following day in the office, it was difficult to meet your eye. And everyone gave you suspicious looks when you pulled Leon into your office by the time when he came to give you his reports.

Only leaving your office an hour later with disheveled clothes and a plethora of lipstick marks on his cheeks, jaw and neck

#harpy speaks #resident evil #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy fanfic #leonkennedy #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x you #leon resident evil #leon s kennedy x reader

170 notes · View notes

milkistar · 2 months ago

Text

𝐕𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐔𝐑𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔.

can you take this spike? will it wash away this jet black, now? [ . . . ] please save my soul. [ . . . ]

i'll never let them hurt you, not tonight.

⤹ you can find pt. 2 › here. ┆ pt. 3 › here.

you were sent on a mission to hunt a dangerous vampire, but when you finally find him, he’s nothing like the monster you expected - he doesn’t fit the stories you were told.

★:: sunghoon (enhypen) x reader.

tags:: gn reader, vampire au, reader should kill the vampire but guess what, blood, mentions of violence, mentions of murder.

you had been taught that vampires were evil beings, ruthless, heartless.

nocturnal creatures that, when they weren’t killing for hunger, did it for fun. much more like monsters than beasts, but certainly far from being human.

they were depicted as walking nightmares, and in the books you had read, it was already a miracle if the role assigned to them was simply that of the villain; usually, it was worse.

and yet, the boy in front of you had nothing monstrous about him—on the contrary, he seemed human, too human.

at the academy of supernatural study and regulation you attended, it was common practice to send some senior students on reconnaissance missions. you and a group of three other students had been ordered to capture—and, if necessary, eliminate—a vampire deemed dangerous, apparently responsible for several deaths in the vicinity of the city where the academy was located.

at first, you were happy to contribute to the mission carried out by your academy and to help the frightened townspeople who believed there was a feral beast roaming the streets, making them too scared to leave their homes.

but now, you weren’t so sure.

the so-called "beast" was actually looking at you in fear, curled up near a tree, and didn’t seem to have the slightest intention of attacking.

the moonlight filtering through the branches of the forest made his face appear even paler than it already was, and, considering that he was theoretically supposed to be dead, that pallor was almost unsettling.

you lowered the rifle you had aimed at him, aware that you wouldn’t be able to fire even a single holy water bullet at him. not if he was looking at you like a trapped animal.

you still hadn’t alerted your teammates, and since each of you had a specific area of the forest to search, it was unlikely that anyone would come to check on what you were doing.

deep down, you knew he wasn’t the monster you were looking for, and you wanted to make sure you got the right vampire before any of your teammates shot him on sight. you didn’t want to risk taking the life of an innocent.

but no vampire is innocent.

yes, that was something you had been taught as well. but, for some reason beyond your understanding, at that moment, you felt they were wrong.

you knelt down to bring your head level with his, still holding the rifle tightly in your hand.

he pressed his back against the tree, his eyes wide with fear. how could he possibly be a murderer?

"hey, don’t be scared," you tried to reassure him, though you were the first one who wasn’t feeling calm.

it was a strange sensation. despite that small, convincing voice repeating that everything was under control, that he was harmless; despite what your eyes were seeing... you were trembling with fear, every nerve in your body screaming ‘danger!’ ‘danger!’.

he slightly parted his lips, then looked at you, tilting his head slightly.

his eyes were dark red, so dark that, at first, you had mistaken them for black. from the small glimpse of his mouth that you could see, his fangs stood out against his red lips.

he was dressed entirely in black, so even from this close, the night’s darkness made it difficult to distinguish his outline or how his clothes were actually made.

"i won’t hurt you if you don’t hurt me," you said, placing a hand on your chest; the cold fabric of your hunting suit felt almost warm against your fingers, chilled by the night air.

he remained silent, but he didn’t seem as scared anymore. ‘good,’ you thought, ‘at least one of us isn’t terrified anymore.’

asking him directly if he was the killer of all those people wouldn’t do anything but frighten him, so you decided to take him somewhere safe from your teammates' bullets first.

"come with me, you’re not safe here." you extended a hand toward the vampire, who looked at it, bewildered. "they’re looking for you."

"you’re not safe." he replied, speaking for the first time.

despite the fact that he had been shaking in fear just moments ago, his voice was strangely calm and confident. and beautiful, extremely beautiful, it seeped into your bones more than the cold wind did.

before you could ask him what he meant by that statement, a scream shattered the silence reigning in the forest. the worst part was that you were fairly sure you knew whose voice it was—you had traveled here together.

"i’m not alone tonight." as he said this, his expression changed almost imperceptibly. you weren’t sure, but did he seem to be smiling? no, it wasn’t possible, you were certain…

"but you chose to show me mercy, and i always return favors. i wouldn’t want to be in debt to none other than a human." he took your hand, which in the meantime had gone stiff—just like the rest of your body.

at that precise moment, your brain managed to register only one thing: ‘it’s warm.’ weren’t vampires supposed to have ice-cold skin?

then, you registered something else about his hand: it was slippery, maybe a little sticky?

and then you understood; it was covered in blood, and it was still warm—he had just killed someone.

finally, you could see his clothes more clearly, as if a spell had just been broken; they weren’t black, they were simply drenched in blood.

you felt like you were about to vomit.

"let’s go, sweetheart, the others aren’t as kind as me." this time, the vampire truly smiled, and you finally saw his fangs clearly: it shouldn’t have surprised you, but even they were covered in blood... which explained why his lips were red.

but how had you not noticed?

you knew vampires were skilled manipulators, but to this extent… for god’s sake, he hadn’t even spoken to you! how had he done it?

you heard another scream, this time closer. another person you knew, another student on a mission in this forest like you.

"come on, y/n, get up. i’ll take you somewhere safe." you didn’t trust him, but what choice did you have? if you stayed alone, the other vampires in his group would find and kill you. but if you followed him, maybe you could at least hope to live until sunrise.

then, you realized something.

"how do you know my name?" you had never told him, that was for sure.

he smiled even more, to the point of looking unsettling. "i know a lot of things."

he stood up, and, pulled up by the bloodstained hand still holding yours, you stood up as well.

"but to be fair, i’ll tell you my name too." still holding your hand, he gave a half bow. "you can call me sunghoon. make sure to remember it."

he smiled again, then looked around cautiously. "follow me."

a few seconds later, you were running through the forest at full speed, hand in hand with sunghoon.

you were following a murderous vampire into the unknown, the rifle—lost in fear and cold slipping from your grip as soon as you started running—was abandoned under the tree where he had previously been curled up. if the others found it, they would be able to track you by your scent.

lost in your grim thoughts, you didn’t notice that he had stopped running, and you nearly crashed into him.

before you, partially hidden by the trees, stood an old church, clearly abandoned for years. there were several wooden planks where stained glass windows should have been, and some stones from the structure had fallen, scattered at the base of the building. you didn’t want to think about it, but they almost looked like small gravestones.

"no one has come here to pray in decades, but it’s still consecrated ground." he turned his head toward you, his eyes a shade redder than they had been minutes ago. "we can’t set foot inside."

you glanced from him to the small church, then back at him. you decided to believe him, you had to.

"hide inside and stay there until sunrise, then you’ll be able to leave safely. i’ll stay nearby to keep watch, just in case."

you nodded, then moved toward the church, but he tightened his grip on your hand. "i’ll come find you again one of these nights, sweetheart." he kissed the back of your hand, leaving a blood-red mark on your skin.

you didn’t know if it was a threat or not. you wanted to believe it wasn’t, but what else could it be?

and yet, he had been so kind to you…

before you could make sense of your thoughts, he had already vanished into the night.

"thank you, sunghoon." you whispered before stepping inside the old church, as the third and final scream was swallowed by the wind.

a/n : 'oh my god another vampire au enhypen fanfic?? 😵😵😵 that's so original!' ok, yes, i know that this has been done a thousand times, but, listen, i had a vision

( i don't know where it went but i had it )

261 notes · View notes

witch1nghour · 1 month ago

Text

𝜗𝜚 ⠀𝗕𝗬 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗣𝗥𝗜𝗖𝗞𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗢𝗙 𝗠𝗬 𝗧𝗛𝗨𝗠𝗕 ﹔ various sentence starters ( platonic/romantic/antagonistic/etc ) from JEKYLL AND HYDE: THE MUSICAL ( 1990 ) . please , like or reblog if you plan on using . don’t claim as your own . content warning : tw murder, violence, religion .

in each of us there are two natures.

he's beyond help.

he stil has a soul - as pure and good as yours or mine.

madness is the cruelest of all prisons.

there must be a way to help him.

my theories convince me there is a better solution.

use your gifts wisely.

once there was morning, now endless night.

if I could reach you I'd guide you and teach you to walk from the darkness back into the light.

please try to hear me.

I'll never desert you - I promise you this till the day that I die.

I need to know the nature of the demons that possess man's soul

why does he revel in murder and madness?

I need to find a way to get inside.

I need to try to separate the good and evil - if I can.

give me courage to go where no angel will go.

there's a face that he hide till the nighttime appears.

man's a master of deceit.

what is his sinister secret?

if we could extract all of the evil from each of us think of the world we could create!

what makes you think you have the right to play god?

my fate is yours to choose.

I did try to warn you.

you should exercise greater caution.

you have come this far, remember what you have at stake.

comments on style, madam, should never be made by those who have none.

you'll get what you want in the end, you always do.

the only thing to fear is the unknown.

we knew there'd be a price to pay.

look in my eyes - who do you see there?

love is the only danger.

we'll make our one dream come true.

you know who I am...take me as I am.

give me you hand - give me your heart.

swear to me we'll never part!

goodnight, my angel.

goodnight, my devil.

if we want our love to grow, we musn't be afraid of letting go.

you are playing a very dangerous game.

a little touch of sin - why wait another minute?

why should tonight be different?

here's to the night!

if you only knew the games we could play.

you're not up to the chase.

you have got a lot to lose ... think of the consequences.

for all these years, I've faced the world alone.

I have started this alone ... and I must finish it alone.

I have a thirst that I cannot deprive.

tonight I'll take from all mankind, conquer all the gods.

I see the pain in your eyes.

have I become my work and nothing more?

what kind of monster would do such a thing?

I am in love with the things that I see.

if someone like you found someone like me then suddenly, nothing would ever be the same.

I'd feel so alive if someone like you loved me.

it warms my heart to know that romance still blossoms.

how dare you speak to me like that?

you don't seem like yourself.

I've been better, name ... I've been better.

I did everything I could to save the others.

I am dangerous. more dangerous than any wild animal stalking its prey ...

my love, what's happened to you?

I must be left alone to finish what I've started.

yu never promised me the journey would be easy - only that we would take it together.

you were heaven-sent to me, was it never meant to be?

don't abandon me now, name.

if you need me you know where I'll be.

did you really think that I would ever let you go?

do you think I'd ever set you free?

you will never get away from me!

this is not a dream, my friend, and it will never end!

no matter what you may pretend.

I'll rejoice as you breathe your final breath.

there's a beast at the door, and he's wild and free.

#rp memes #gothic horror rp memes #jekyll and hyde #rp prompts #inbox prompts

163 notes · View notes

courtofjade · 2 months ago

Text

Star Crossed

Eris Vanserra x Rhysand’sSister!Reader

Plot- A series of events leading to Eris Vanserra falling in love with the princess of the Night Court.(also lowkey Azriel pining but what’s new)

Warning! Alludes to smut but no actual

“I need to go freshen up. I’ll be right back.” Y/n spoke to Azriel. She began to walk away before he gently grabbed her wrist.

“Here I’ll escort you.” She rolled her eyes.

“I’ve been to plenty of these parties before. I do not need escorting.” He smiled at her softly.

“Yes but this is a party of the Autumn court. You need to be careful around here.” He spoke lowly. Y/n took a step closer to him. Leaning into his ear to whisper to him.

“I know Rhysand put you in charge of watching me tonight and you can tell him to shove it. I’m a big girl I can handle myself.” She smiled and patted his chest before turning away from him- taking a beat to notice the red that had adorned his cheeks and the way he tensed when she leaned close to him.

She made her way down a corridor- eyes scanning the halls. As she continued her search, a deep voice nearly made her jump out of her skin.

“Well well, what do we have here? The princess of the Night Court all by her lonesome?” Eris teased. “Your guard dogs off duty tonight?” Y/n rolled her eyes- flaring her wings and tilting her chin up at him.

“Is being a royal asshole a family trait or is that just you and daddy?” She spat.

“Fiery little thing aren’t you?” He smirked. “I don’t believe I’ve ever formally introduced myself. Eris Vanserra- heir of Autumn.” She glanced down as he extended his hand to hers.

“Y/n.” She allowed him to take her hand. She stared into his amber eyes as he brought her hand to his lips, placing a gentle kiss onto it. She looked up at him curiously as he pushed a piece of her dark hair out of her face. Her heart stuttered a bit when a smirk donned his face. He opened his mouth to speak again- stopping after noticing a swirl of shadows walking down the corridor towards him.

“It appears we’ll have to continue this another time. Save me a dance, princess.” Azriel arrived in time to hear the end of Eris’s sentence, his shadows swirling protectively around Y/n.

“She will do no such thing.” He growled. “Keep your hands off of her.” He grabbed onto her hand, pulling her back to the ballroom. She spared a glance back to where he stood, catching his eyes already staring at her retreating form with something in his eyes she couldn’t put her finger on.

———————————————————————————

Y/n stood stoically to the left of Amarantha’s throne as Rhysand sat next to the red head on his own, slightly smaller, a bored look sat on his face. Beneath the facade, Y/n was beyond terrified of what the day entailed. Just an hour before - Nuala and Cerridwen had come to dress her in a particularly skimpy outfit, informing her that the Queen had something special planned for her. The dress, if you could even call it that, was even more revealing than the normal clothes she was forced to wear being Amarantha’s “pet”. Being the “gift” faes were given when they pleased their Queen.

She regained her focus, feeling something inside of her telling her to look to the entrance of the throne room. Not too soon after, the Vanserra family arrived. Her heart skipped a beat when seeing the eldest son. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the feeling. Eris’s eyes locked with hers. Normally he would tease her, send her a smirk or a wink of some sorts, but his gaze held a tense feeling she couldn’t place. The High Lord and heir made their way to the dais, breaking off the brothers who chose to mingle with the other faes of the court.

“You called, my Queen.” Beron said as they bowed to the redhead in the throne.

“I’ve been very pleased with the work you have been doing for my court.” She purred. “In appreciation for the loyalty you have shown- I have decided to bestow a gift to your heir.” This made Rhysand sit taller, causing and evil smirk to fall onto Amarantha’s lips. Y/n tried to catch his gaze from the corner of her eyes. She put her hands behind her back to hide their trembling.

“Y/n, my darling.” The queen drawled. “Your new position in this court will be to please the Lord’s eldest son. You are to stay with him in his chambers.”

Y/n’s breath caught in her chest. She tried to look to Rhysand for comfort but his eyes remained forward. His jaw locked tight, in attempt to not lash out and make matters worse.

Do not show your fear. She heard in her head from Rhysand. Keep your chin up. I promise you I will not let him hurt you.

Y/n looked forward to Eris, raising her chin ever so slightly, replacing the look of concern with a look of seduction. She descended the dais with a swing in her hips and allowed Eris to wrap an arm around her. He looked from her to Amarantha with a smug look on his face.

“What a lovely gift, my Lady. Have no doubt that she will be of good use.” He finished with a nod and began to direct her to his chambers. They made their way through the halls to where he resided. Past the many rooms she had been forced to spend the night as Amarantha’s personal prostitute. He guided her gently through the door to his room, with a hand grazing her bare back. He turned to shut the door, leaning on it for a brief moment.

Y/n made her way towards the bed. She huffed turning to look at the red head male.

“How would you like me, my lord.” She uttered in a bored tone. Eris turned from the closed door with an unreadable expression on his face.

“Do you really think that low of me?” He breathed with a snarl. “Do you truly believe I think of you so little?”

She flinched- taken aback by his words.

“Well after what you did to my cousin I’m not quite sure how you suppose I see you.”

“You know nothing, girl.” He seethed. “You do not know to the extent of what my father could have done had I helped her that day.”

“Oh it all boils down to daddy, huh?” She laughed lowly. “How am I supposed to know you’re not just like him?” Eris strode up to her, towering over her short figure. He breathed heavily, anger flowing through him like the fire in his veins. The fire she could feel radiating off of him. He raised a pointed finger at her, preparing to go off on a tangent, when Y/n winced as if to prepare for him to hurt her.

He lowered his hand, eyebrows creasing in concern. A frown replaced the snarl that had previously dawned his face.

“She has harmed you.” Eris whispered. Tears began to glisten in her eyes.

“It doesn’t matter.” She said simply, sniffling away the tears that threatened to spill. Something inside Eris twinged. A pull of some sort. A need to wrap his arms around her and hold her close. But also a need to incinerate that red headed bitch who laid his hands on her. He gently placed a hand on her cheek, gazing into her eyes.

“I will not let her hurt you again.” She stared up at him. Into his amber eyes. The eyes that looked down at her longingly. Longing for something he should not want and he could not have.

Y/n suddenly surged forward, kissing Eris like her life depended on it. Eris kissed back just as fervently, grabbing her waist and pulling her into him closely. Her arms slithered up to wrap around his neck and her hands tangled into his hair.

“No.” He breathed as he pulled away with a smack. “I do not need you to please me.” Y/n jumped up, wrapping her legs around his waist. Eris caught her with ease, keeping his hands on her waist respectfully.

“I need this. A distraction.” Y/n breathed. “I need you.” Eris prayed to the mother before laying her down onto the bed and attaching their lips once more.

———————————————————————————

Y/n sat to Rhysand’s left, Feyre to his right, at the table of the High Lord’s meeting. Next to her sat Azriel who currently sat brooding at Eris across from them. Eris sat smirking, unbothered by the Shadowsinger’s glare. She sat directly across from him, glowering while holding his gaze.

“Pity the other sister couldn’t come. I hear our little brother’s mate is quite the beauty.”

Y/n felt a pang in her chest. The corner of her mouth turning down ever so slightly. Of course not going unnoticed by Azriel who looked to her curiously.

Thankfully, Mor stepped in replying smoothly. “You still certainly like to hear yourself talk, Eris. Good to know some things never change over the centuries.” Eris’s eyes broke away from Y/n, lips curling into a smile.

“Good to know that after 500 years you still dress like a slut.” Azriel moved to stand before Y/n placed her hand on his shoulder, sitting him down while simultaneously standing up harshly.

“You’re a bastard.” She spit harshly, slamming her hands onto the table. Cassian let out a low whistle from a couple seats down. “You are a selfish, arrogant, sorry excuse of person.”

“Easy now, little fox.” He spoke calmly. Holding her gaze with an amused look. He knew the real reason behind her anger wasn’t necessarily the words he had spoken to Mor. Well a good part of it was that. But the other part? That was jealousy. Jealous at the words he had spoken about Elain. And part of it was anger. Anger at the fact that this was the first time she had seen him in a long while.

It was true, he had been neglecting his “duties” as a distraction for Y/n. Most of it had been for good reason. With everything going on with Hybern, he hardly had time to breathe let alone find time to bed the princess of Night. But the truth was, he could’ve found time. Gods he wanted to find time. But that was the problem. He had been finding himself wanting to see the dark haired beauty. And not just for the sex, though that was a good incentive. He had been wanting, craving, to hear her laughter, see her smile, look into those beautiful violet eyes. He had longed for the feeling of her touch. To feel her hands running along his chest and through his hair as he kissed her in all the places he could. And that-that was a problem. That could not happen between the sister of the High Lord of Night and the heir of Autumn. So he began to push her away. And now it was coming back to bite him in the ass.

“You are nothing but a coward. A-a cruel little weasel whose own head is shoved so far up his own ass he wears it like a hat.” She continued to ramble, feeling her power begin to bubble up in her chest. Rhysand could feel the power radiating off of her- eyeing Azriel to step in. Before he could, Y/n gasped, cutting herself off while holding her chest.

Rhysand stood up when he watched his sister lean over gripping her chest, her eyes wide with shock.

“Y/n? Is everything alright?” He whispered. He moved to comfort her when she whipped her head to him, stopping him from touching her.

“I’m fine.” She huffed. She quickly excused herself from the room, rushing out but not before sparing Eris a second glance. Eris who looked like the wind had been knocked out of him.

Though everyone else had been too focused on Y/n to notice, Nesta had been the only one to witness the twitch in Eris’s face when she had gasped. Her gaze pierced into him as she watched him glance towards Y/n’s retreating figure- quickly running his hand over his aching chest nonchalantly.

———————————————————————————

Eris Vanserra for once in his life was left speechless. He paced his room back and forth, absentmindedly burning a trail into the carpet where his feet had stepped.

Admittedly, he had always felt something for the Illyrian girl. Some sort of pull he couldn’t quite place. Though he always chalked it up to something relevant to lust. Not something as deep as a mating bond. And for it to have snapped at the High Lords meeting of all places. Luckily his father was not focused on him at the time. Didn’t see the slight flinch in his normally nonchalant face. And Eris was thankful for that- not wanting to know what would’ve happened if he had found out.

The feeling he had felt before it had snapped had been akin to a crush. Frequently having her on his mind. Thinking about her beautiful violet eyes, her smile, the lips he couldn’t seem to pull away from no matter how hard he tried, the body he couldn’t keep his hands off of even though he knew it was wrong. Now that the bond had snapped, it was so much worse. He couldn’t think, couldn’t sleep. Not when the bond sang for her. Craved her like a drug he couldn’t quite kick.

His thoughts were put on hold when a knock sounded at his door. He marched towards it, swinging it open harshly.

“Yes?” He exasperated to the servant. She eyed him with concern- noting his disheveled hair and the deep bags under his eyes. She handed a letter to him cautiously before bowing and turning back down the hall.

Eris scanned the letter. The dark purple wax seal could only mean one thing.

Not soon after, he arrived at the cozy cabin just on the outskirts of the Night Court, residing in Day. One he had frequented quite a few times after returning from under the mountain. He had been in practically every room in that place. He had taken her in practically every room in that place.

He stood at the front door, knocking gently. It was opened quite fast, revealing the striking violet eyes that made his heart quicken its pace. She stepped aside letting him enter. He leaned against the table in the kitchen, waiting for her to address what he knew she wanted him here to say. For once, not choosing to make a snarky remark or arrogant comment.

She took a moment to turn around from closing the door. Taking a deep breath as to regain her stability, and to also resist the urge to turn around and let him bend her over the dining table. Again.

“Does your father know?” She questioned. Choosing to stay a good distance away from the male.

He shook his head. “What about your clan? Do any of them suspect anything?”

“Just Nesta. But I’ve been adamantly trying to convince her that I think you’re a disgusting and vile person who I would wish to never make physical contact with.” She uttered, which made him let out a chuckle. “Which I’ve honestly been trying to convince myself the same for a while.”

Eris sighed. “I know my comments don’t really make you think I’m a great guy. But I assure you I don’t wish anything bad upon your family or friends and I have no qualms against them. If my father thought I had any sort of alliance with any of you…. I do not know what he would do to me.”

This made Y/n’s eyes soften, knowing the things his father had put him through. He continued, pushing off the table and walking closer to her.

“And although I know that the mother was cruel for doing this. For fating us together when there are so many reasons we should not want each other. I also know that I cannot stop thinking about you. And I have not been able to stop since I laid my eyes on you at the ball all those years ago. You, little fox, have been the bane of my existence. You have tormented my mind and my soul. And I know that if I spend another second denying this bond, I might burst into flames.”

Y/n sucked in a breath before closing the distance between them. She placed her hands on his chest, looking up into his amber eyes with a longing she once tried so hard to push away.

“If Rhysand finds out, I garuntee he will kill you. And if he doesn’t Azriel will most definitely.” Eris chuckled, moving his hands up to her face, like he once did so long ago under the mountain. But this time it was so different. “We cant do anything right now. Not with Hybern and your father and-and..”

He cut her off with a kiss, gentle and full of love. “We can worry about all that later.” Y/n trembled on weak knees.

“Maybe there’s one thing we can worry about right now.” She moved towards the table, perching herself onto it. She slowly leaned back, letting her legs part showing off the lacey bottoms she knew he loved.

Eris smirked, gripping her legs and using them to pull her hips towards him.

“Oh I would love to worry about that.”

———————————————————————————

A harsh tug on the bond pulled Eris out of the trance he was held in, working on important business of the Autum Court. The feeling wasn’t something totally abnormal. On many occasions, Y/n would send something down the bond. Whether that be feelings of affection, a gentle caress to calm his stress, or a mental imagine of her in a particular risky position. Though normally, her pulls on the bond were not this harsh.

He shrugged it off, chalking it up to her toying with him, probably having sensed he was up late again. Something she often reprimanded him for while rubbing his temples or stroking the creases that have made permanent residence on his forehead. So like normal, he tugged back.

Not even a minute later, he felt another tug. This time though seemed more urgent. The pull was rough and a feeling of urgency, panic, and pain came with it. He stood up abruptly, eyes creasing in concern.

Y/n? Is everything alright dear? He sent down the bond. Though no word back. Panic reverberated through his body. Something was wrong. Though he wasn’t sure it was the best answer, Eris winnowed to the border of Night and Day.

Rhysand halted from his pacing, eyes shooting to Cassian , who sat with his head in his hands.

“Someone got through the barrier.” Immediately after, a harsh knock sounded from the door of the townhouse.

The door opened for Eris revealing a confused and disheveled Feyre Archeron.

“Y/n. Where’s Y/n?” He huffed frantically, pushing through the door and into the main room. This made Nesta, who had been sitting on a lounge chair in the corner, raise an eyebrow. It had appeared her suspicion had been confirmed.

Rhysand stormed into the sitting room, power radiating off of him. Though his power normally flowed strong and with intention, this time it seemed sporadic. Like the panic that flowed through him was affecting him in more ways than one.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve coming here right now.” He spat. His power pushed Eris into a nearby wall, which caused his brows to furrow. Rhysand was normally pretty hotheaded towards Eris. They’ve always threw petty banter at each other. But he has rarely ever used his power against him. “I have never once questioned the mother for her choices. But this? This I can’t seem to get behind.”

“What are you talking about?” Eris huffed.

“Oh don’t act foolish.” Rhysand got in his face. “I know you’re mates.” How he had found out was beyond him. They were always extremely careful when going to see each other and always used their magic to mask the scent of the mating bond. If Rhysand knew- something really must’ve happened.

“Listen, I know something is wrong. All I can feel from her is panic and- and pain. I just-“ he let out a broken sigh, “I just need to see her. I need to see her.”

“Like hell.” Rhysand growled. Feyre approached him, putting a hand on his chest and guiding him away from the redhead.

“Rhys,” she spoke softly. “You and I both know what it is like being kept apart from your mate. Let him see her.” Rhysand looked at his mate and remembered the time she had been in the Spring Court with Tamlin. Remembered how awful it had been to feel the pain she had felt, the terror, and not be able to do anything about it. He let out a defeated sigh.

“Madja is just finishing up now. She um-they,”Rhysand’s voice broke before he could finish the sentence. “They took her wings.” Eris’s heart dropped. His beauty. His little fox. He didn’t know who did it but whoever they were- they were going to pay.

Rhysand began to walk in the direction of Y/n’s room, gesturing Eris to follow him. Nesta shook her head in disbelief before looking at Feyre knowingly.

“Is it an inappropriate time to say I told you so?”

Madja placed 2 containers on the nightstand next to Y/n’s bed before looking at Azriel who sat in a chair next to her. Though having been attended to by Madja for his wounds already, still looking mentally affected by what had occurred.

“This one is to be taken for pain and swelling and this one is to be applied to the wounds twice a day. Once in the morning and once before going to bed.” She then turned to Rhysand who appeared in the doorway. “If she needs more or if you have any concerns just send for me, dear.” She then bowed and made her way out the door.

Rhysand entered, giving Azriel a warning look before Eris stepped in hesitantly. The shadow singer stood abruptly, shooting a glare to Rhysand before looking harshly to the heir. But Eris paid no mind. He couldn’t really. Not when he couldn’t tear his eyes away from his mate, who lay on her stomach, a permanent look of pain etched onto her face.

“What is he doing here?” Azriel hissed at his High Lord. “He has no right to be here.”

“Spare me the dramatics, Shadowsinger.” Eris snarled. “It is no fault of mine that the mother didn’t choose you as her mate.” That struck a nerve in Azriel, who had pined after the princess for many years. Hoping that one day the bond he hoped to feel with her would snap into place. Whose heart had shred into a million pieces when he smelled the bond on her as she had let her guard down during those moments that her wings were being hacked off. Who had only hoped that it was unrequited.

“Fuck you.” Azriel spat. “She deserves more than the likes of you.” He took a step closer to Eris. The boys basically nose to nose huffing in anger. Rhysand, noticing Y/n stirring, pulled Azriel back and sent him a mental message to cool it for the sake of his sister. Azriel looked between Rhysand and Eris with a fury in his eyes before pushing his way out of the room.

Rhysand moved to kneel beside Y/n while Eris chose to stay behind, letting the siblings have their time together. Y/n blinked her eyes open and attempted to move before a pain radiated through her, making her wince.

Rhysand shot forward. “Don’t move too fast, sissy.” He helped Y/n move to her side. His emotions got the best of him for a moment. How could he let this happen? His baby sister, the only family he has left. She reached a hand up and rested it on his cheek, which he then reciprocated.

“I’ll be okay Rhysie.” She whispered, wiping a stray tear from his eye. She let her eyes drift behind him, noticing the all too familiar fiery red hair she had grown to love. Her eyes softened for a moment before they almost popped out of their sockets when she realized what him being here had entailed. She had remembered reaching out to him right before it had happened. Right before Hybern’s men had hacked into her wing, severing it from her body. She had also remembered that right before she passed out from the pain and from the blood loss, she had been too worn to mask the scent of her bond any longer.

“Yeah we’ll talk about that later.” Rhysand teased. He leant forward and placed a kiss on her forehead before turning out of the room and giving her and Eris time alone. Not before shooting him a warning glare. Eris smiled at his mate softly, walking towards her pulling the chair closer to her bed.

“Hello, little fox.” He spoke gently, grabbing her hand and lifting it to his lips. “Quite a scare you gave me, darling.” Though his attempt at teasing did make the corner of her lips lift up slightly, they began to tremble as the weight of the situation hit her full force.

“My wings,” she choked out. “They- they took my wings. They’re gone.” By the time she finished her sentence she had begun full out sobbing. Eris moved to her- maneuvering her the best he could without hurting her so that she could lean onto him while he held her. He stroked her hair, shushing her as she sobbed into his arms.

“I’m never going to fly again. I’ll never have races with my brother, I’ll never feel the wind in my hair, I will forever be grounded.” She cried.

“I know, my dear, I know.” He rubbed his hand up and down her arm, his free one reaching to wipe the tears off of her face. “I am so sorry I could not protect you.”

“It is not your fault.” Y/n stated, turning her head to look into his eyes.

“Perhaps not,” he started. “But I will forever wish I could have done something.” She gave him a small smile, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes, before leaning in and placing a soft kiss on his lips. She leaned her head onto his shoulders as they fell into a comfortable silence.

“Rhys didn’t hurt you did he?” She whispered a couple minutes later.

Eris chuckled. “Almost.” She rolled her eyes.

“Well I’m glad it didn’t end in a fight.”

“I’d fight armies for you, my darling.” He said dramatically. She giggled lightly, softly swatting his chest. He leaned his cheek onto the top of her head, gazing lovingly into her eyes. “I love you.”

She whipped her head to look at him. A look of awe dawned her face.

“Say it again.” She whispered. Eris smiled grabbing her chin and placing a deep kiss onto her lips.

“Y/n, princess of the Night Court, my darling mate, I love you. And even though I couldn’t admit it, I have loved you from the moment I saw you. From the moment you gave me a snarky remark and glared those beautiful violet eyes into mine. And one day, when all of this is over, we will have a wonderful ceremony, and I will make you my High Lady.” A gasp left Y/n’s lips. “And we will have beautiful babies. We wi have a happy life. And I will love you till my last breath.”

He waited a beat.“If that’s what you would like, of course.”

“I would love nothing more.”

#acotar #azriel acotar #eris acotar #eris vanserra #eris x reader #eris vanserra x reader

197 notes · View notes

waldau · 1 year ago

Text

ruminations — jeon wonwoo | 1,289 words | fluff

gender neutral reader. warnings: alcohol.

you're about to get up from the sofa and go to the bathroom to carry out your nighttime routine when the doorbell rings. that's odd; you're not expecting anyone at the moment.

but when you open the door, you see your tall boyfriend standing in front of you, being held up by his best friend, mingyu. literally being held up in the sense that mingyu has an arm around his waist and his other hand on wonwoo's back. wonwoo looks like he's putting zero effort into standing. his eyes widen when he looks at you, but he says nothing.

right. your boyfriend had gone for a party with the rest of his bandmates, and you'd asked him if he wanted to spend the night at your place afterwards, but you didn't expect him to be here almost an hour before the party ended.

you open your mouth, a couple of questions on your tongue, but mingyu shakes his head. "don't make him cry."

you're bemused by what he's said. "why...would i do that?"

"not that you'd— he's very wound up today. he just looks like he's going to cry at any moment."

you look at wonwoo. he's looking at you very seriously, like his actions are going to depend on what you're going to say next.

"hi, baby," you say carefully. wonwoo moves out of mingyu's grasp and into yours.

you're hardly as strong as mingyu, and you admit it takes quite some effort to make sure wonwoo doesn't fall. "just how much did he have?" you ask mingyu. wonwoo's hand finds its way to yours, fingers intertwining.

"not much at first, but then he lost a bet to hoshi, and..."

you tut. wonwoo is never really into playing drinking games. "you didn't stop him?"

"i would have, if we had been on the same team. it was funny watching him tug joshua's hair again and again."

you chuckle. "you're evil, you know that?"

mingyu's about to say something when wonwoo mumbles. "what's that?" you ask him.

"tired."

"of course you are. mingyu, thank you so much for—"

"hey, no problem. i know he'd do the same for me."

"get a girl first," wonwoo says, looking at his friend. you let out a surprised laugh while mingyu stands there with his mouth open.

"that's how you show your thanks to me?"

you push wonwoo inside, bidding mingyu goodnight before he shuts the door. "i think you need to sleep before the alcohol really hits you," you say. wonwoo hasn't let go of your hand even now.

you decide to take him into the kitchen to make him sit for a while and see if he needs some water, but he stands resolutely when you try to tug him forward.

"what is it?" you ask gently.

he blinks at you. "you look really good."

your words catch in your throat. it's not very often that wonwoo's verbal with his affection. "aw. thank you, wonwoo," you say, standing on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

he shakes his head. "i mean it. did you know you look really pretty tonight?"

"now i do. thank you, baby. do you want some water?"

he shakes his head again, and doesn't budge when you try to get him into the kitchen.

"something on your mind?"

wonwoo simply takes his hand out of yours and holds your face with both his hands, tilting your head up so you face him. he looks tired, like he said, but his brown eyes are sparkling under his glasses. you can't tell if it's from the light, or—

"do you believe in reincarnation?"

"huh?"

"do you...believe in reincarnation?"

you rest your hands on wonwoo's, taking them off your face so you can talk easier, but you don't let go. "where did that come from?"

"i asked you first."

you sigh. "well...no."

wonwoo's lips part, and you realize those sparkles in his eyes are unshed tears which are now collecting along his waterline. "oh," he says in a small voice.

you're beyond confused. what the hell happened for mingyu to warn you not to make him cry? "wonwoo?" when he doesn't respond, you sink down to the ground and pull him, so he's sitting cross-legged in front of you. you're still holding onto his hands like they're a lifeline. "what made you ask me that?"

he shrugs and huffs. so you've hit some sore spot you didn't even know existed. "i'm taking off your glasses, okay?" he says nothing when you reach forward to slide them off his face and hook them to the collar of your shirt. then you push his hair back from his face.

"stop," he mumbles, but he doesn't make any effort to push you away.

"what? sorry, am i annoying you? do you want to go to bed?"

"no. this. being...cute."

"i'm just taking care of you? i haven't even done anything yet."

wonwoo sighs and takes one of your hands again, tracing it with his thumb.

you stand up, hoping he'll keep holding your hand so you can pull him to his feet. instead, he remains put in his place and that makes you fall into his lap.

"wonwoo?"

"minghao said something about...if he could become a mosquito, he'd trouble jun in every life. and i wondered if...you know."

you wait for him to gather his words, even though you think you know where this is headed.

"if you'd be with me in every life, too. but now..."

oh. "won—"

"it's okay. i'll...manage."

you can't help but giggle. he looks at you like you've offended him. "you're acting like i made my choice," you explain.

"didn't you?"

you trace the bridge of his nose. he closes his eyes. "wonwoo," you say slowly. you need to think it through, not hurt him. it's not like you've been dating very long; a year is just enough time for you to be serious about your relationship, but the fact that he's been thinking about being together in all your other lives too...

"hm."

"do you really see us together in every life?"

"you don't."

"i never said that."

"but you just said that you don't believe in—"

"i don't, but if i could always be with you...then i don't mind."

it's magical, seeing the hurt in his eyes vanish and be replaced by almost childlike wonder. "you'd...always be with me?"

"if i could trouble you forever, yes."

he laughs. he looks really good, you realize, sitting in your apartment, his hair hair all askew and his hands locked around your waist. the fact that he came back to you, to your place, and took up your offer instead of being hungover all by himself makes your heart warm.

"did i ever tell you?" you ask, running your hand through his hair.

"probably not?"

"i love you."

it's not often that you say this particular phrase to each other, because you're both better at actions than words, but you think this is a good time to say them.

wonwoo smiles dopily at you, and you can almost picture your future with him if you close your eyes. the thought makes you tingly inside, and even though he probably won't remember everything he's said tonight, you can't help but feel like your heart is beating loud enough for him to hear.

wonwoo pulls you closer, and you're filled with the sudden urge to press yourself as close to him as possible so this moment never passes. "i have another question."

"ask me after you change into something more comfortable than your jeans?"

"it won't take long." he tilts your chin down and you're so, so gone. "would you still love me if i was a worm?"

"...hoshi's so dead."

#1.2k is not the same as 1289 im sorry 😤#jeon wonwoo #wonwoo fluff #seventeen #seventeen fluff #svt #wonwoo #fluff #waldau writes #established relationship

1K notes · View notes

causeimhappinesss · 2 months ago

Text

Rome's Devotion (part 9)

Warnings: Emperors Geta & Caracalla are warnings themselves, (slight?) blasphemy, slight non-con/dub-con, misogyny (Ancient Rome, so…)

Pairing: Geta x Christian!reader x Caracalla

Words: 4,7k

Disclaimer: English isn’t my native language (I’m french), so you can correct me if you spot some mistakes :)

Masterlist

The soft scent of lavender and herbs lingers in the air as I close the door behind me. The quiet of the room greets me, the only sound the rustle of my wet nightgown as I step further inside. The bath had been a welcome escape, the heat of the water soothing the tension in my muscles, though my thoughts were never far from the weight of the day. The dinner, the absence of the emperors, and Claudia’s presence instead had all left a strange sense of peace, a calm I wasn’t sure I trusted.

I walk to the bed, the soft fabric of the gown brushing against my skin, my hair still damp, cascading down my back in loose waves. The cool night air that filters in from the balcony feels refreshing against the warmth of my body. Kneeling in front of the bed, I reach for my necklace, the small Ichtus pendant cool against my fingers. My hands are steady, but my mind races, even as I prepare myself for the comfort of the prayer. I bring the necklace close, a silent reassurance that I hold on to, my fingers curling around it as I begin.

“Our Father, who art in heaven…” I murmur, my voice quiet, steady, “…Hallowed be thy name.”

The words come easily, practiced, familiar. The weight of the world doesn’t feel so heavy at this moment. Each breath I take settles my soul a little more, the comfort of the words wrapping around me like a cloak.

“Thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth, as it is in heaven.” I close my eyes for a moment, imagining a peace that has always seemed distant, as if the prayer itself could be the key to something more.

“Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil, for thine is the kingdom, the power, and the glory, for ever and ever, Amen.”

The words slip from my lips with a gentle ease. They are a request for mercy, for strength, but also for grace, something I feel I need more with each passing day. When the final word hangs in the air, quiet but resolute, I make the sign of the cross. My fingers linger on the necklace for just a moment longer before I let it fall back against my chest. A deep breath escapes me as I stand, my body tired in ways that go beyond just the physical. Exhaustion pools in my limbs, in my mind, but it feels different tonight, probably less overwhelming, less fraught with the turmoil of the day. The prayer managed to calm my mind. Without a sound, I move toward the bed, the softness of the sheets inviting me to rest. The room is silent now, the dim light from the moon casting faint shadows against the stone walls, accompanied by the candles’ light. As I slide under the covers, a sense of relief, a respite I wasn’t expecting, engulfs me. The emperors had not tormented me today. For once, there had been a moment of calm.

I close my eyes, feeling the cool night air on my skin and the weight of the day’s quiet wash over me. The strange peace of the evening lingers, and for the first time in a long while, I drift into sleep without the sting of worry or the sharpness of fear trailing behind me.

The night whispers secrets through the thin curtains of my chamber, the air heavy with the scent of jasmine and the distant echo of the city’s revelry. I lie on my bed, the silk sheets cool against my skin, my mind adrift in the haze of an erotic dream. In the realm of slumber, I am wanton, unshackled by the daylight virtues that bind me.

Caracalla, with his golden wavy hair and eyes like the clearest summer sky, stands before me, an emperor in every sense, yet in my dream, he is mine alone. His pale skin glows with an otherworldly light, his features so angelic that it seems a sin to even gaze upon him. He reaches for me, his hands sure and strong, igniting a fire within my core that I have never known. I’m hot, wet, and aching for his touch. My body responds to his phantom caresses, my hips undulating in search of something to quench the burning desire that courses through my veins. The soft button on my womanhood throbs with anticipation, and I can feel the slickness between my thighs, a testament to the power of my dreams. I flutter my eyelashes and frown.

Gradually, the veil of sleep lifts, and I find myself lying on my side, my night dress up on my hips, the remnants of my dream still lingering. A man’s body is pressed against mine, his torso a warm, solid presence against my back. Panic flutters in my chest as I twitch with fear, but a familiar voice murmurs reassurances in my ear.

“Shh, my sweet [real name], it’s only me, your Emperor…” he whispers, his breath a gentle caress against my neck.

Caracalla.

My heart skips a beat.

For a second, I forget how to breathe.

His hand splayed across my belly, stilling my tremors. I can feel his erection, hard and insistent against my behinds, and despite my initial fear, there is an undeniable thrill that races through me. Something warm spread in my veins, in my whole body, and is poisoning my mind. Heat spreads on my cheeks.

“Please…” I beg, my voice barely above a whisper. “I am a virgin. I can’t give you what you seek.”

His giggles are soft, a sound that sends shivers down my spine and make me bite my lower lip.

“Don’t worry, my dear. I would never take from you what is not freely given. The others can't say the same.”

Somehow, his words apply a balm to my racing heart, and I relax into his embrace, allowing myself to feel the warmth of his skin against mine. His fingers trace lazy patterns on my inner thighs, each touch sending strange jolts straight to my core. I’m embarrassed by how wet I am, but the sensation is too exquisite to resist. I find myself rocking my hips, seeking more of his touch, and he chuckles, clearly pleased with my response.

“You are a temptress!” he teases, his voice thick with desire.

The pleasure builds within me, a tide that threatens to overwhelm my senses. I am too hot, flushed with a need that is as primal as it’s unexpected. I feel as though I’m in heat, an animal driven by instinct and the promise of release. Caracalla’s manhood, slick with my arousal with each slow thrust, slides between my thighs, the head grazing that perfect spot on my womanhood, that strange button. I can’t help but moan, the sound echoing in the quiet of my chamber. We’re both lost in the moment, our bodies moving in sync, driven by a hunger that cannot be denied.

“Gods, you feel incredible…” he groans, his lips trailing kisses along my shoulder. “I want to bury myself inside you, to feel your tight pussy clenching around my dick.”

The thought of it sends a thrill through me, but fear holds me back. At the same time, my eyes widen, I’m horrified by his filthy words.

I have to make this stop… I’m not allowed to accept this…

“No, please, you mustn’t…” I plead, even as my body betrays my words, my hips chasing the friction of his cock against my entrance.

He battles with himself, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

“By the gods, you test my resolve…” he whimpers like me, his forehead pressed against the nape of my neck.

The door to my chamber creaks open, and the sound of footsteps sends a jolt of fear through me. I try to pull away, but the movement only serves to increase the friction of Caracalla’s cock against my warmth, causing me to gasp.

“Brother, I told you not to try anything.” a familiar voice chides.

Caracalla’s twin, his golden hair a shade darker than his brother’s, his eyes the color of rich, fertile earth, looks at us. Caracalla grumbles in response, his grip on me tightening.

“I could not resist. Her beauty, her womanhood, was calling to me, begging for my touch.”

Geta’s gaze rakes over me, a smirk playing on his lips as he takes in my flushed cheeks and the way my body trembles with need, with a full view on my naked lower half, my half opened thighs, coated with wetness.

It’s a nightmare… It has to be…

“I see that. Her pussy is glistening, swollen with desire. She is ready to give what her body craves.” He comments, his voice a low purr.

I shake my head, my protests weak against the onslaught of sensation.

“No, I can’t!" I insist, even as my hips involuntarily undulate, seeking the release that is just out of reach.

Geta steps closer, his eyes locked on mine, while mines catch the hardness under his golden tunic.

“Do not deny yourself. Your body knows what it wants, even if your mind is afraid to admit it.”

In the dimly lit room, the scent of desire hung heavy in the air, mingling with the musky aroma of our shared arousal. Geta’s eyes were locked onto mine, his breath hitching as he worked his hand up and down his hard length, his golden curls tumbling around his face.

Caracalla’s lips find the sensitive spot behind my ear, and I can’t help but moan as his cock started to tease my entrance.

“Let go, my sweet [real name]. Surrender to the pleasure…” he whispers, his voice a seductive melody that resonates deep within my soul.

You’re sinning… You have to stop… I keep telling myself.

At this moment, I’m torn between fear and desire, my mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. As Caracalla’s fingers find my sweet button once more, all thought is driven from my mind, replaced by a singular focus on the exquisite sensations that are building within me.

“Oh… I….”

I almost say the name of Jesus, the son of God, biting my lips before it’s too late.

I gasp, my body tensing as the first waves of something amazing crash over me. Powerful waves slash at me from my intimacy, blunting the rest of my body, like sea foam. My body arches, my toes curl and my fingers clutch Caracalla's arm, while my sex throbs around nothing. Caracalla’s cock throbs in response, his own need clearly etched on his face.

“By the gods, you are magnificent…” Geta murmurs, his eyes dark with lust as he watches his brother and me.

There is no jealousy in his gaze, only a shared appreciation for the beauty of the moment. Caracalla’s control finally snaps, and with a groan, he pulls away from me, his cock slipping from between my thighs. Hot, white ropes of spent spurt from his tip, painting my belly and thighs with the evidence of his desire. Geta approaches the bed, his gaze still fixed on me.

“You have bewitched us both… It feels like the Gods sent you as a gift for their Emperors.” he says, his voice filled with admiration.

“Fuck…” he groaned, his voice thick with lust. “I can’t… I can’t hold back any longer.”

His right hand moved faster, his grip tightening as he chased his release. I could see the tension building in his body, his muscles taut as he teetered on the edge. And then, with a guttural groan, he came, his seed spilling over his hand as his body shuddered with pleasure.

Quickly, I kneel the bed, the weight of what I’ve done pressing down on me, the reality of what happened sinking deep into my bones. As my hands shake, I clasp them together and press them against the cool stone floor. My breath comes fast, uneven. I try to push away the images of their faces, the feel of Caracalla’s skin on mine, but they keep flooding back, overwhelming me.

My heart aches. I have sinned. I have betrayed myself, betrayed my beliefs, betrayed the Lord.

I lift my hands to my face, closing my eyes tight as I press my fingers against my temples. It’s as if I can push the shame away, shove it out of my body, but it only digs in deeper. The pleasure… The heat… It has clouded my mind.

I let them do this. I let them take my dignity.

I think of my prayers, my devotions. They feel so far away now. I’m not who I was before. Not pure. Not worthy. I’m not sure I can even look at myself again.

Lord, forgive me. Please, forgive me.

My voice cracks, the words breaking apart as I whisper the prayer, the only thing that has ever kept me grounded, now sounding like a desperate plea to a distant God. My chest aches as I speak the words I’ve said countless times before, but this time they feel hollow. I don’t deserve forgiveness. I don’t deserve mercy.

I feel dirty. I feel lost. How could I let myself fall into this?

Suddenly, the impulse takes hold of me, like a tidal wave crashing over my mind. I need them to leave. I need to push them away, to reclaim what little dignity I have left. I look up at them, standing too close, their eyes filled with something I can’t quite read, and I open my mouth, my voice breaking as I shout.

“Leave! Leave now!”

My voice is raw, desperate, like a wounded animal trying to claw its way out of a trap. I want them gone, I want this all to stop, but it doesn’t. The reality presses down even harder, and the tears start, hot and unchecked, running down my face. I can’t stop them. I can’t stop anything. I stand, staggering back until I’m pressed against the cold wooden head, my chest heaving with frantic breaths. It’s as if my body doesn’t belong to me anymore, as if I’ve lost control over every part of it. My eyes flicker toward Geta, then to Caracalla, who remains eerily still. Neither of them moves. I want to scream again, but my throat tightens.

“Y/N…” Geta’s voice is soft, but it only makes the sound of my Roman name seem even more painful. His hands are raised, like he’s trying to comfort me, but I can’t let him. I can’t let anyone near me.

“No!” I scream, stepping away from him, pressing myself harder into the stone. My body shakes uncontrollably, like the force of my emotions is pulling me apart. I can’t breathe. I can’t think. The shame is too much. Geta doesn’t approach further, his hands falling to his sides. He looks at me with something like confusion, but I can’t read it through the fog of my own mind. I want him gone. All of them. A soft knock on the door interrupts the tension, and I freeze, every muscle in my body locking up. I feel as if I can’t breathe, as if the air has been sucked from the room.

“Y/N?” Claudia’s voice, filled with both concern and shock, cuts through the silence.

I don’t want to look at her. I don’t want anyone to see me like this. The door opens, and I flinch instinctively. Claudia’s eyes widen as she takes in the sight of the room—Caracalla and I in our undress state, the intimacy of the moment clinging to the air like smoke. Her gaze flicks between the two of us, understanding too much, but she doesn’t say a word. Geta stands closer to my friend, a silent command in his posture.

“Help her. We will leave.”

Claudia’s gaze softens, but she moves quickly, not questioning, not hesitating. She goes to the table and grabs the cloths and water. The noise of the small pitcher fills the room, the gentle sound a stark contrast to the tension in the air.

“I’ll take care of her.” she promises, her voice firm, though there’s a softness beneath it. She shoots a glance at the emperors, her words clipped. Caracalla looks reluctant, his eyes flicking between me and my friend. His lips part, like he’s about to say something, but Geta is already taking him by the arm, pulling him away with his clothes. The door closes with a soft sound, and the room feels smaller, suffocating, but at least they are gone. Claudia hurries over to me, her hands gentle as she takes my face in them, forcing me to meet her gaze.

“What happened?” She whispers, her tone filled with concern, but there’s no judgment. Not yet.

I feel the tears come again, like a flood.

“I… I let them… I let them take something from me. They took a part of my purity.” I sob, my words coming out in broken gasps. “I’ve… betrayed everything. I’ve betrayed Him.”

“Shhh…”

Claudia hushes me softly, her voice a balm against the jagged edges of my pain.

“You haven’t betrayed anyone. You’ve been hurt. But you are not beyond saving.”

I shake my head violently, my hands clutching at her arms as I pull away slightly.

“I’m not pure anymore. I’ve… I’ve let them defile me. I can’t even face Him. How can I?”

She doesn’t pull away. She stays close, her hands never leaving me, her presence steady.

“Your faith is not in your body. It’s in your heart. Don’t let them steal that from you, too.”

She doesn’t really understand, but she tries…

I choke on a sob, the weight of my actions crushing me. The warmth of her hands, her calmness, only makes me feel worse.

“I… I’ve lost it.” I whisper. “I’ve lost everything.”

“No. You still have everything that matters. Your heart, your spirit, your will to be better. You can move forward.”

I feel her hands moving over me as I help her to clean my body, washing away the remnants of what I’ve lost, what they’ve taken. Even if I don’t want her to touch me, I let her.

“Let me help you. You don’t have to be ashamed. Not for this. Not for something that was beyond your control.” She insists again, her voice steady.

The tears won’t stop. They never do.

“I’m so sorry. I keep annoying with all of this…” I whisper over and over, but Claudia doesn’t say anything. She simply continues to clean me, wiping away the remnants of my shame, of my loss.

And I wonder if I can ever forgive myself.

I lie in bed, the sheets tangled around me, but I don’t care. The sun spills through the curtains, casting its warm glow across the room, but I hardly notice. My eyes are fixed on the balcony, the vast expanse of Rome unfolding below, the busy streets, the distant sounds of life. I know I should get up. I should play the part they expect of me. But today, I can’t. I won’t. Someone knocks on the door.

“The emperors request your presence for lunch, Y/N.”

Guards.

I turn my face into the pillow, feigning a cough, a groan.

“I am ill.” I whisper, voice rough and weak. “I cannot join them. My head aches terribly.”

After that, the silence comes back. I lie still, waiting for the sound of their retreating footsteps to fade into silence. My heart races, but not from the illness I pretend to have. It’s from something deeper, a gnawing emptiness that grows inside me every time I think about the twins. The men who have claimed pieces of me, pieces I never meant to give away.

I close my eyes, feeling the coolness of the pillow against my skin, and for a moment, I let the tears come. I should be grateful. I should be thrilled by the power I hold here. Many women would do anything to be in my position. They would pray for the attention of the emperors, for the riches, the comfort, the fame. But I don’t want any of it. Not like this. Not when it feels like my soul is being torn in two.

“Lord.” I whisper, my voice trembling. “Please forgive me. I know I have no right to complain. I should be grateful for what I have. But my heart is heavy, and I feel lost. I have failed you. I have betrayed myself.”

I pause, waiting for an answer, though I know the silence will be all I hear. But still, I ask, my voice breaking. “Should I accept their plans, Lord? Should I go along with this? Or should I resist?”

I don’t expect an answer, but something stirs in the air, a shift I can’t quite place. I open my eyes, and that’s when I see it. A white butterfly flutters into the room, its delicate wings moving slowly, almost as though it’s drawn to me. It hovers for a moment, circling once, then gently lands on my chest, just above my heart. Its weight is light, almost imperceptible, but it feels like a message, a sign. I watch it in awe, my breath caught in my throat. It’s so fragile, so pure against the backdrop of the room. The butterfly doesn’t move, doesn’t flutter away. It simply rests there, its wings rising and falling with my breath.

A feeling washes over me then, one I can’t ignore. It’s not just the presence of the butterfly. It’s the sense of something greater, something divine. I feel the weight of it in the pit of my stomach, an understanding that settles deep within me.

This is a message from God.

The thought strikes me with a jolt. I don’t know how I know, but I do. The butterfly is His answer. I don’t have to hear His voice to understand. This is His will. His plan.

The butterfly stays for a moment longer, its wings beating gently against my skin, and then it lifts off, its delicate form disappearing through the open window. I watch it go, my heart racing, a sense of peace mingled with fear. I sit up in bed, the confusion lifting from my mind. I may not understand all of it, but I know now: nothing happens without reason. Even this. Even my place here, even the emperors. It’s all part of His plan. I don’t know what the future holds, but I know I have no choice but to follow it. To trust that what has happened, and what will happen, is not by chance. It’s His will. And I must accept it, no matter how unsettling it feels.

I take a deep breath, closing my eyes, and whisper a prayer of surrender.

I wander through the imperial quarters, the stone beneath my bare feet warmed by the midday sun. The air carries the faint scent of burning incense and distant roses, but I find no comfort in it. My body feels heavy, as if weighed down by an invisible burden. Each step is careful, deliberate, my hands clasped before me, my gaze lowered whenever I pass a servant or a guard.

I don’t know why I walk. Perhaps because lying in my chamber suffocates me. Perhaps because I am not yet ready to face them, and yet the walls of my room press in too tightly. I don’t belong here, and I never will. But for now, I am trapped.

The garden calls to me.

Stepping outside, I let the sun warm my skin, but the heat is stifling rather than soothing. The early breath of summer clings to my night-blue stola, the rich fabric a reminder that I am dressed as they expect me to be, as they have adorned me. I move toward the fountain, drawn by the gentle murmur of water cascading over marble.

The basin is pristine, the surface clear enough to reflect the sky above. I lower myself onto the fountain’s edge, the stone cool against my palms, and trail my fingers through the water. The cold soothes the warmth gathering at my throat, but it doesn’t reach the ache within my chest. I close my eyes.

Footsteps.

I know them before I see them. A heaviness settles over me, my body stiffening.

“Y/N.” Geta’s voice is quiet, but firm.

I keep my eyes on the water. My pulse beats in my throat. I say nothing. He steps closer, his shadow casting over me.

“We owe you an apology.”

The words hang between us, fragile yet weighted. My fingers tighten around the fountain’s edge, my knuckles pale against the marble.

Am I dreaming? The Emperors? Apologizing? It sounds like a joke.

Silence.

Geta shifts, exhaling through his nose, as if gathering patience.

“We overstepped. We hurt you. We know.” He sighs.

The admission makes something inside me twist.

Caracalla stands beside him, arms crossed, shoulders tense. He watches me closely, but his expression is guarded. I avoid to meet his beautiful gaze. Geta nudges his brother, forcing him to speak. Caracalla’s jaw tightens. He shifts his weight.

“I thought you wanted it.”

The words strike like a blade, dull yet deep. My breath hitches.

He hesitates, clears his throat and his fingers flex at his sides.

“I thought you had changed your mind. That you enjoyed it.” His voice softens, as if the admission is difficult for him.

My heart pounds against my ribs. I swallow, forcing myself to look at them. The sight of Geta’s quiet remorse and Caracalla’s unreadable stare makes my stomach churn. I wet my lips and nod.

“Thank you, Caesars.” The words feel foreign on my tongue. “I accept your apologies.”

Something flickers in Geta’s gaze, relief mixed with something else. Caracalla exhales, as if he had been holding his breath. The weight in the air lingers, but the moment has passed. A presence shifts behind them and I listen to the whisper of silk. I rise before she speaks, lowering my head in deference.

“Julia Domna.” I say and lower my head as a greeting.

The former empress stands before me, her presence towering despite her graceful stature. Her dark eyes scan me, slow and deliberate, as if measuring my worth. A slight tilt of her head.

“How fortunate you are…” she murmurs, her voice smooth as oil over marble. “For a mere peasant.”

The words cut sharper than any blade. My spine straightens, though I keep my gaze lowered. I know my place. I know better than to respond. As I stay silent, I can feel how the twins stiffen.

“Mother, that was unnecessary.” he replies, his voice polite but firm.

She arches her thin eyebrow, a cold smile on her lips and she adjusts her palla.

“Is it?”

Her gaze lingers on me, something unreadable in her expression. Then, a soft chuckle, a whisper of amusement.

“I see. The past always catches up.”

My stomach turns to ice.

She’s not speaking of me. It’s all about Decima, the woman they loved when they were young boys. Her presence lingers in their hearts, except not for the same reasons. Her name still clings to the walls like an unspoken curse.

Caracalla takes a step forward, irritation tightening his features.

“She has done nothing to deserve your scorn.”

Julia Domna doesn’t reply. Instead, she turns away, her silk robes trailing behind her like shadows Geta follows, murmuring something to her, something I don’t hear. My pulse thrums in my ears. I exhale slowly, pressing my fingers against the fountain’s edge to steady myself.

Caracalla watches me, his fingers twitching at his side. Then, with an exaggerated sigh, he turns away from the path Julia Domna took, as if to shake off the weight of her words.

“Come.” he says. “Help me with Dondus.”

I blink at him. “Your monkey?”

He smirks, though the tension lingers in his shoulders.

“She is more pleasant company than most people I know.”

A distraction.

I nod. Anything to chase away the ghost of Julia Domna’s words.

Okay, that was the first smut scene! I wanted to go gradually because she would never have agreed to go all the way. She also has regrets, which makes sense, because she has sinned. Now, she has to face her desires and contradictions, brought on by these two perverts. Some people thought they would calm down, but… no. Even if they're endearing, they're assholes able to do anything to get what they want! Even if it means playing with the limits of consent (as stated in the warnings).

So, what do you think? What do you imagine will happen next? I've already started writing it.

Btw, I also wrote this about Fred Hechinger : Where Love Stands

My AO3: BetrayedWriter

⚔️ Taglist: @duckyhowls @babey-fruit-bat, @punk-in-docs, @t6gse370, @angelcloudxxsblog, @miragens-para-uma-vitoria, @himikoquack, @chloe-skywalker, @bocreep, @littlemissholy, @yeoldebytche

Ask to be added in the list! :)

#emperor geta #geta x reader #gladiator 2 #gladiator ii #geta x you #joseph quinn geta #emperor geta fanfic #emperor geta fanfiction #emperor caracalla #caracalla x reader #caracalla x you #fred hechinger #emperor caracalla fanfiction #joseph quinn

94 notes · View notes

fastlikealambo · 3 months ago

Text

I wrote this on my phone so I know it’s not great but here’s a tiny sample of what I have so far:

what death can join together.|| Thomas Hutter x Black!Fem Reader x Friedrich Harding Fic

Summary: Every year on Christmastide since the tragic deaths of their wives and children, Thomas and Friedrich take a trip together to keep themselves from joining their loves on the other side. Their shared obsession with finding a way to speak with their beloved Ellen and Anna leads them to you in New York and what transpires cannot be undone.

Not a sample chapter but something to see if I can still write (it’s been awhile) and if there is any real interest in this fic before writing in full! Let me know what you think!

The german gentlemen were back again, standing outside the stage door in the snow. With your employer currently dead drunk and cuddling a crystal ball on her dressing room floor, it would be up to you to cancel tonight’s show.

“I’m so sorry gentlemen,but Madame Serena will not be able commune with the great beyond as she is indisposed. I would be more than happy to give you your money back or offer seats at the next seance.”

The haunted looking one (rather both looked haunted but this one in particular looked like Death itself was bending him over in this very moment) stepped forward, leaning heavily on his cane.

“Forgive me Miss, we are here to see you, not the charlatan you work for. If we could have a moment of your time, we would be in your debt immensely.” He said kindly.

You stepped away from the stage door, arms wrapped around yourself to keep warm.

“If it’s money required for your time, I’d be happy to oblige.” The other one said, a slight smirk that lead only to dead eyes lit only by the dying embers of a cigar.

“If you both are in need of nightly comfort, you will not find it with me. There are eight brothels on this street alone, I’m sure there is something to sate your appetites. Good night gentlemen.” You said firmly, turning towards the stage door.

“I saw you.” The haunted one whispered, barely audible in the falling snow.

“I beg your pardon?”

He drew closer to you, hands shaking so badly but voice and eyes clear.

“I opened my eyes during the seance, just for a moment and I saw you floating in the dark of the room, I saw your body contort and shake. I saw you and I know what I saw to be true because I have seen such horror before. Madame Serena is no more a vessel for the dead than a teacup is, it’s you. It’s always been you.”

You stopped and turned around, a shining smile on your face.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Madame Serena’s craft can sometimes play tricks on the mind-

“Your Madame Serena’s shitty play theatre keeps her in furs and warm while you are standing out in the cold with strangers in a threadbare day dress in a hand me down corset, woman. You don’t know what we know.”

“Friedrich!”

“Thomas, it is cold and she is not going to help us, let us be done with this.”

“Listen to your friend sir, you do not know me or what I can or cannot do. You are mistaken, please leave.” You said coldly, opening the stage door only for Thomas to close it.

“ I don’t have to know you to know that you are in between the living and the dead, a foot in each world but lonely nonetheless. I know that lonely horror, it resided in my wife’s eyes and I can see it in yours.”

“You know nothing of my horror.” You said bitterly opening the door yet again but Thomas stuck his cane in.

“We only wish to walk with you on your path to the other side one time, we have lost those we care for to an old evil and we just need to know that they are cared for, protected in death because we failed them in life.” Thomas said, eyes soft and wet, his friend’s hand on his shoulder.

You could, you knew that you could.

“I’m sorry for your loss, but I cannot help you.”

“Please, I beg you!”

“Thomas, no!”

Thomas’s hand around your wrist and Friedrich’s hand on his shoulder connected them both to you and in that instant, you were not in this world. Eyes milky white and unseeing, you were frozen in place, replaced by someone else entirely.

“Thomas, let her go.” Friedrich tried to sound commanding but there was only fear.

“ I can’t, she’s holding on to me-

“Thomas, is that you? Are you there?”

If Thomas could have dropped to his knees in fear and wonder he would for he knew that voice, had begged God and The Devil to hear that voice just one more time.

Ellen.

That’s all I got, please comment or reblog if you want to see more!

#thomas hutter x reader #friedrich harding x reader #thomas hutter #friedrich harding #nosferatu fanfic

113 notes · View notes

f1nalboys · 4 months ago

Text

What Happened to the Cat? ; Randy Meeks

Ghostface!Randy Meeks x Fem!AFAB!Reader

a/n: long time no see! thank you all for being uber paitent with me as i deal with some irl stuff, i appreciate it and the kind words you all have sent into my ask box so much!!!! any and all thoughts are welcomed; lmk how you guys enjoy this take on ghostface ray :D

WORD COUNT: 9,434

WARNINGS: smut, DARK MATERIAL AHEAD, MAJOR DUBCON bordering on noncon tbh. just tread carefully. ghostface!randy, incel!randy, degrading and misogynistic language throughout, knife play, pain play, choking (unsexy kind), costume sex, predator/prey dynamics, primal-esque behavior from randy, coercion, chasing, stabbing, blood, wound fingering (you’ll see), oral + fingering (afab receiving), threats of anal, missionary, randy is actually so fucked up and evil in this one i apologize but not really, cliffhanger-esque ending, proofread but its me.

“Let me lick your pretty piggy cunt, Y/N.”

The ever-familiar modulated voice crackles in the receiver, the hair on your neck standing up on end even as you recognize where the phrase is from. You’re standing in the middle of the hallway, front and back door on either end, dread building in your gut. Ghostface. Every iteration of the son of a bitch has been haunting you for years now, from high school to college and beyond, destroying everything you have known about yourself, your loved ones, and the world, all in the palm of his gloved hand. And here this one was, quoting fucking Black Christmas to you like this was all a joke.

The realization that you had rewatched the movie with your roommate, Randy, last night hits you like a ton of bricks. This fucker had been watching you.

“Fuck you, you freak.”

“Touchy, aren’t you?” He says with a sharp laugh. “You won’t be sayin’ that when I’m fucking you with my knife, now will you, bitch? Sticking your fucking nose in where it doesn’t belong, right? Looking into shit you should’ve left alone.” His tone cuts through you and you whip around, heart pounding in your ears. Of course this had to happen tonight. It was a rare one where Randy had left to go to dinner with some of his friends. “What? Cat got your tongue?”

There’s a creak behind you.

Your head jerks to the side, the flash of black fabric and white plastic darting down a hallway making your stomach flip. Your body is one second behind your brain. You’re screaming at yourself to run, to get to the back door and follow the foot path around the house to your car, to get to the house phone and call for help, to get the fuck out of there. Just as your foot finally begins to move, your head twisting to face forwards, a hand is grabbing your collar and yanking you backwards.

The wooden floor under you is slick, your feet flying forwards as you hit the ground. Pain shoots up from your tailbone as you yelp and the edges of your vision turn black as his hand moves from your collar to your scalp. “Let go!” You shout, hands coming up to grab at his wrist as his fingers tangle into your hair, the feeling of the strands being pulled from your scalp nothing compared to the ache in your skull when he slams your head back down onto the floor twice.

You’re dazed, eyes squeezed shut as you groan. Your hands cradle your head, fingers warm and sticky with your blood. By the time your vision refocuses, he’s on top of you, knees digging into your side and his knife pressed at your throat. “P-please! I’ll do anything, please don’t kill me!” You manage to choke out, going silent when you feel the blade dig into your flesh as you swallow heavily. He says nothing, just cocks his head to the side.

“Anything?” He repeats and your eyebrows scrunch together for a brief moment; the voice you were hearing now was familiar. It was kind, soft, an edge of something darker to it, but missing the distinct crackle and depth of the voice on the phone. For a second, you wonder if this is a prank that one, or more, of your friends were trying to pull on you. But then he’s pushing the knife closer to you, nicking the thin flesh of your throat, free hand planted by your head. “I knew you were a fucking slut.”

Suddenly the knife is tossed to the side and his gloved hands are wrapping around your throat, cutting off your oxygen. Your hands instantly reach for his wrists, trying to pull him off of you, your eyes widening in fright as his grip doesn't loosen. Inside your chest, your heart beats at your ribs, overcompensating for the lack of oxygen in an attempt to keep your body going. When his grip tightens further, and your eyes feel like they're beginning to bulge out of your head from the pressure, you change tactics.

Your mouth is opening and closing in a desperate, fish-out-of-water way to get air as you begin to punch at his chest. Your actions grow more desperate as the seconds tick by, the only sound you can hear being your own heart beat and his grunts as his thumbs dig into your trachea. The sight of the white mask, the dark all consuming eyes, begins to grow fuzzy as your hands punch and claw at any part of him you can reach. The man behind the robe is not particularly large, but he’s stronger. Couple that with catching you off guard and it was no wonder that you were here, trapped under the mysterious figure, the life being choked out of you.

Clutching at his robes, you stare into the blacks of the mask where the eyes are and you think about Randy coming home and discovering you dead on the floor. You can imagine him dropping to his knees beside you, grabbing ahold of your shoulders and shaking you, his hands trembling. Your fingers begin to loosen around the fabric, shaky hands reaching up and clumsily tugging at the mask.

He shakes his head a few times, jerking it out of your touch with an annoyed grunt, his grip loosening every so slightly. You manage to grab a hold of the chin and pull it off, determined to see who was killing you and make them look you in the face, really look you in the face, while they were doing it. Maybe you could somehow manage to leave a clue behind to their identity for-

“R-Randy?” You choke out, voice hoarse and nearly unintelligible. The mask hits the wood floors with a soft thud, his grip tightening as you say his name, but you don’t fight back. You stare up at him, right into his blue eyes.

His hair is tousled, wet with sweat. His pink lips are parted, his chest heaving as he blinks down at you, tanned cheeks flushed pink. “Don’t fuckin’ look at me like that.” Your vision grows blurry again as you realize Randy, your roommate and best friend, the person you had been tracking down Ghostface with, was Ghostface. He was the one killing you.

He lets go of your throat.

“Fuck!” Randy says, grabbing the knife and holding it just above your throat as you gasp and sputter underneath him, eyes squeezed shut. The oxygen burns as you breathe in, coughing, black dots swimming across your vision. You try to blink through the blurriness; you can see the bright pink hue to the apples of his cheeks, a bead of sweat rolling down the bridge of his nose as he narrows his blue eyes at you in accusation. “Why the fuck did you have to do that for?”

It’s almost enough to make you laugh. Here he is, a knife to your throat, and he’s mad at you.

Your mouth opens, cracked lips parting to tell him to go fuck himself, but all that leaves your throat is a choked noise. Pain rips through your esophagus and you flinch, stomach churning at the realization you can’t speak. Your eyes blink back the tears that threaten to spill down your cheeks once more as you swallow, looking at Randy.

His eyes are searching your face, and it’s clear to you even now, with the knife against your throat, that you seeing his face had taken the wind out of his sails. He’s nervous, head cocking to the side every few seconds and his jaw rhythmically clenching as he stares down at you.

“Fucking bitch.” Randy finally spits, his face morphing into disgust. “You fuckin’ ruined it all. Nosy cunt, just had to stick your nose into shit that didn’t concern you.” His voice is low, gravelly, and spit collects at the corner of his lips as he speaks. You’ve never heard him speak this way; a crude joke here and there, sure, but never something this vile aimed at you and you alone. “Is this what you wanted, huh? To make this harder for me than it already is?”

His voice cracks and as the fuzz on the edge of your vision begins to go away, you can see a tear slide down his cheek. Randy angrily wipes it off of his face with the back of his gloved hand. Wetting your lips, you brace yourself for the pain. “R-Randy,” you start, voice hoarse and cracking. He’s breathing hard, shoulders heaving with effort, but he remains silent. “...Why?”

It’s the most you can choke out right now and thankfully he decides to answer right after scoffing. “Why?” Randy’s head cocks to the side, searching your face, his knees digging into your ribs. You let out a small whine of discomfort at his weight on top of you. “You were gonna figure it out, you know.” The change in his voice makes you still, eyebrows scrunched together at the softness in his tone, as if he were sad about what he was saying. “I knew you would. I couldn’t let that happen… you’d tell everyone.”

“Wouldn’t… I wouldn’t…” Talking still hurts but lessens as the minutes tick by. “I… I wouldn’t have told anyone.” Randy tsks, shaking his head.

“I’m not an idiot. I know you.”

“Please, please just let me go, Randy.”

“You know I can’t do that.” Fresh tears prick at your eyes, lips thinning slightly as your chin quivers. Randy grunts, averting his gaze for a moment. “Stop looking at me like that.” He says sharply, digging the knife back against your throat. All the blade does is spur your tears on. “Jesus Christ, stop crying!” The knife is pulled away and you suck in a blubbering breath before the crack of his palm meets your cheeks.

You yelp, hand coming to press against the swelling flesh as he leans down, hot breath ghosting against your cheek. “Do you want to live?”

The tone of his voice makes your blood chill. Sharper than the knife in his hand and just as cold. You sniffle, your chest tight as you nod. A small sob escapes your lips and he smiles. “Please don’t kill me, Randy.” Begging seems redundant at this point but you realize there is nothing you can do but try. “Randy, fuck! Fuck, please don’t kill me, I don’t want to die!” You sob, a blubbering fucking mess underneath him.

He tilts his head to the side slightly, an amused smirk on his face. “You wanna know something?” He asks, ignoring your tears and dragging the tip of the knife down your cheeks carefully. “I’ve always imagined you underneath me crying. Knew you’d look pretty.” He sighs softly, wetting his lips, pulling back as his eyes search your fear-stricken face. “Anything?”

“W-What?”

“You said you’d do anything,” he repeats, shifting his weight back, a wild look in his eyes you’ve never fucking seen before. It’s enough to make the hair on the back of your neck stand on end and a wave of nausea hit you. “You wanna live that bad?”

Something in your gut tells you to say no, to fight and struggle and to die with some fucking dignity. But it’s Randy. Your best friend, your roommate, the person you trusted more than yourself. An hour ago, you never would have thought he was capable of this. You nod your head once, a tear sliding down your warm cheek as his smile grows more affectionate.

“I knew it.” He says, pulling the knife away from your neck where it had been loosely pressed. He tosses it to the side, the clang as it hits your hardwood floors making you flinch. His gloved hands are suddenly all over you, leaning down and harshly pressing his lips to yours. His teeth smash into yours as you grunt in surprise, his tongue forcing its way in, a parasite finding a host.

You’d be a liar if you said you never thought about kissing Randy before. Of course you did! He was a sweet, funny, goofy guy you had been through terrible tragedy after terrible tragedy with; it was hard to not think of him in that light. You never made a move, and, like always, he didn’t either. You would often lay in bed, eyes closed, knowing Randy was in the next room over, and think about what kissing him would be like.

It’s rougher than you imagined.

Randy moans, pulling back from you to suck in a few harsh breaths, a string of saliva connecting you two. “Fuck,” Randy moans, his voice thick. His blue eyes darken, his lids heavy as he stares down at you. “God, you’re a good kisser, you know that?” His familiar goofy smile spreads across his pink face and you do your best to ignore the flipping of your stomach.

“Y-You are too.” You say as your voice cracks slightly. His smile grows further and you wonder briefly if his cheeks hurt. A wave of disgust washes over you as he brings his gloved hand up from your side to cup your cheek, and you turn your head to the side. “Are… are you done?”

Randy blinks. “Done?” He asks, a laugh bubbling up in his chest. You grunt, face feeling warm in embarrassment and nervousness as his knees dig further into your ribs. “Nah, I’m not done yet.” He finally says, his smile twitching. “I mean, I can get the knife if you’ve decided you’re done…?” He motions to the blade just beside him, watching your eyes lock onto the steel. “If you’re feeling brave, though, you can try and fight me off.”

“What?”

“I said,” he grabs the knife with one hand and your wrist with the other, shoving the handle into your shaking hand. “If you’re feeling brave, try and fight me off.” There’s a light to his eyes you’ve only seen when he talks about his favorite movies, a kind of glee that you had a hard time not teasing him about previously. Now, however, there was nothing fucking funny about it. The knife is heavy in your hand, weighed down by the souls it’s taken already.

Your eyes widen, glistening with unshed tears as you look at him. “I… I don’t want to fight you,” you say shakily. “You’re my friend, Randy.” He scoffs at this, snatching the knife from your loose grip and the mask from beside you. He stands, towering over you, and panic hits you as he goes to put the mask back on.

He was going to kill you unless you convinced him otherwise, and Randy was very stubborn. There were only a few things he loved, and, thankfully, you knew them all.

“W-Wait! I’ll do it!”

“You’ll do what?”

“I’ll… I’ll fight, or whatever. That’s what you want, right?” You ask, staring up at him as he pauses, your heart thudding in your chest. He could put the mask back on and sink the knife into your gut without a single word; you just had to trust he wouldn’t. “Y-you always say the chase is your favorite part.”

Randy cracks a smile. “That’s why I like you,” he says, crouching down beside you. “You always got me. Really got me, in ways the others didn’t.” It’s true, you realize. While Randy was popular and had lots of friends, he had told you time and time again how it seemed like you were the only one who actually heard him. It used to make you feel good.

Now all it does is make you feel sick.

“You must really want to live, don’t you?” He asks, voice dark as he peers down at you. Shakily, you nod, swallowing down the bile that steadily felt like it was crawling up your throat. Randy grins as his eyebrows raise, tucking under the wet strands of hair sticking to his forehead still. “Alright, fuck it. I’ll chase you and you can try and escape. You make it out the front door, and you can live. You can run off to the cops and tell them everything. But,” his grin sharpens. “If I catch you… I get to do whatever I want to you.”

“Are you going to kill me?”

He shrugs. “Maybe. Depends on how worked up you get me.” Randy smiles, wetting his bottom lip as his eyes trail down your figure beside him, still frozen on the floor. The heat behind his gaze makes your skin crawl and your gut swirl, the two sensations twisting and turning inside you. “I’ll probably do something else first, though.”

Randy’s hand reaches out, grabbing at your tit through your pajama top. His grip is rough as he squeezes the fat between his fingers, letting out a growl-like moan at the feeling. You let out a shudder, turning your head to the side as you squeeze your eyes shut and press your lips together. He huffs, letting go of your breast and grabbing ahold of your chin, forcing you to look back up at him with a scowl.

“Get up. I’m giving you five seconds, and if I catch you, I’m fucking you until I decide to kill you.”

His voice is void of all emotion, roughly letting go of your chin as he stands, and his words make you scramble upwards onto your feet. You stumble down the hallway, mind reeling as you try to think of what to do.

“1…2…” The back door is too far. Randy was quick on his feet, he’d reach you before you got the deadbolt undone.

“3…4…” Randy tugs on the mask, voice muffled as he counts. The knife is held tightly in his hand, robe loose at his ankles. Your only option is upstairs. The steps are just to your right and you sprint towards them, feet hammering heavily against the wood as you hurry up them. You could lock yourself in your room, or maybe get to the attic with enough time to pull the door down.

“5… Ready or not,” Randy watches your figure disappear up the steps, a wild grin on his face under the mask as he starts after you, thundering up the steps two at a time. He uses his free hand to click the modulator on again. “Here I come, bitch.”

You’re at the landing, turning down the hall to sprint to your room, when you see the ghostly white mask staring up at you. Randy swipes the knife at your feet as he stomps up the steps and you narrowly avoid it, letting out a yelp as you haul ass. Slamming the door shut behind you and locking it, you look around for anything that could help.

He’s at the door in seconds, his fist banging against the wood as you run to the opposite side of your dresser, grunting with effort as you try to push it in front of the door before he can break through. “Let me in, you fucking cunt!” He snarls, now throwing his body against the door. He’s growling with each hit, the sound of splintering wood making your palms slick with sweat. “I just wanna see what your insides look like!”

The dresser scrapes against the grain of the floor, ignoring the pleas and curses spilling from your lips faster than you can think. After an agonizing few seconds, you manage to get the dresser in front of the door just as Randy begins to break through. You scream, stumbling backwards as his hand, holding the knife, pushes in through the split in the door he caused.

The knife swings wildly, blade glinting in the light of your lamp. His arm retreats and he’s back to slamming his body weight against it, the dresser loudly scooting further from the door each time. Your time was running out. In a few seconds he’d be in here with you and that would be it.

You rush to your desk on the other side of the room, throwing things off as you search for something, anything, to protect yourself with. The sounds of Randy forcing his way in grow muffled, like you’re underwater. Your hands wrap around the metal scissors as he finally breaks in, and you turn around, wielding them in front of you with shaky hands.

“Look at this.” He steps inside the room, standing with the knife in front of him. His shoulders are heaving with each breath he sucks in, and though he wears the mask, you can almost see the grin he’s giving you. “I didn’t think you’d get this far, if I’m being honest.” He steps forwards and to the right, hugging the wall as you side step him, keeping yourself at the same distance away, moving to the left. The two of you slowly, carefully, circle the rug. “I mean, you’re smarter than most girls, but I figured you’d be a pretty easy kill.”

“Fuck you!”

“There’s that fire!”

“This isn’t a fucking joke!” You snap, eyes narrowing in anger. The room is thick with tension, a standoff between a fawn and a wolf. You tighten your grip on the scissors, jaw clenching at the slickness of your palms. Your hearts beating against your ribcage, your stomachs in your ass, and yet, even with the thick sludge of fear that is coursing through your veins and weighing you down, there’s another feeling. It’s deep in your stomach, buried under the rubble, but it’s there.

Lust.

Randy laughs, head cocking to the side as he continues to move, slowly, carefully. Each movement he makes is calculated, directly reflecting your own. You wish he didn’t have the mask on, that he’d stop being a fucking coward and let you see the extent of his enjoyment for torturing you. “I know it’s not a joke, Y/N. I’m taking this very seriously.”

He lunges forwards slightly, knife shallowly stabbing into your gut. You yelp and stumble backwards, hitting into the wooden post of your bed frame as you clutch at your side, watching the blood soak into the fabric of your pajama top. For a few moments, all you can feel is heat. You had never been stabbed before, but you had imagined it to play out like the movies. Instead, the piercing pain comes in quickly, and you let out an involuntary shudder as your free hand presses into the wound. All you want to do is drop to the floor with a whimper, the edges of your vision riddled with dancing black dots, and beg Randy to leave you alone.

Instead, biting your tongue hard enough to draw blood, you ignore the pain rippling through your side as he laughs. He returns to his place near the wall. The two of you are still circling slowly, one foot after the other, unable to take your eyes off of him for a second.

He could have brought the knife to your other side in a second flat, gutting you. You can almost imagine him standing over your body as you desperately try to hold your organs inside your belly, warm thick blood oozing from the wound in buckets, soaking into the rug Randy had helped you pick out before you collapsed to the ground, coughing up blood. Why hadn’t he?

“Doesn’t this just get your fuckin’ heart racing?” He asks, the scratchy tone of the modulator making you swallow hard. “Not knowing if your next step is your last, if you’ll even make it out of this fucking room…it’s exciting!” You continue your carefully placed steps, your back now to the door. The dresser was still in front of it, but if you got an extra few seconds, you could squeeze through the gap between the wall and dresser and make your way out into the hall.

If you could do that, you could make it down the steps and to the front door before Randy made it to the landing. Your car keys were right next to the door where you always left them; you could do it. You had to do it. You had to do anything you fucking could to get out of here. The other option was dying.

Randy turns his head to look behind him and you take the brief opportunity to lunge forwards, squeezing your eyes shut as you sink the scissors into his shoulder. You cut through robes, shirt, and flesh. As the blade makes a sickening squelch noise, you expect him to scream, collapse to the ground or stumble back like the villains always do in those shitty movies he likes.

Your eyes widen and you take a shaky step backwards, scissors stuck in his shoulder as he whips his head around to face you, a low growl emanating from under the mask. His gloved fingers wrap around the metal handles, yanking it out with a hiss. The steel is covered in dark red blood. It drips onto the carpet opposite of the puddle of your own blood that was growing underneath you. The robe where the stab wound was is sunken into the cut, the fabric bunching together and fraying into the wound.

“You forgetting something, Y/N?” He questions sinisterly, gingerly holding the scissors in his hand. He swings them side to side, taunting you. “Did you seriously think a little stab would stop me? You think none of the others put up a fight like this?” He scoffs, his anger at you clear even through the modulator. “You all think you’re the exception, that you’re the final girl. Well guess fucking what? You’re not… and I think you want me to catch you.”

“I don’t!”

“No?” He taunts, cocking his head to the side. You wonder if, under the mask, his lips are squeezed into a thin line with a furrow to his brows. That was the face Randy always had when he was pissed. You take a step backwards towards the door. “So you’re really trying? You ran up the steps. You let me in your room. You gave me your fucking scissors! Just admit that you want me to fuck you, even if I gut your ass after.” The excitement in his voice has your heart sink.

This wasn’t Randy anymore; this was Ghostface.

Realizing there’s nothing you can do here to save yourself, you make a mad dash for the door. Squeezing yourself between the dresser and wall, you watch as Randy walks over to you, tossing the scissors behind him as his grip tightens around the knife. You’re halfway there, your hands flat against the dresser as you shove it forwards an inch to allow you to squeeze through, when Randy rears his foot back and kicks it.

“FUCK!” You scream as the dresser is violently forced into the door and you, slamming you back into the wall. Your ankle is bent uncomfortably, your leg turned outward and stuck at the bottom of the dresser. Randy lifts his foot once more. “Wait, no, don’t-” you plead, your heart hammering in your chest as you continue to move, nearly out of the room. He ignores you, his foot planting on the edge of the dresser as he kicks it forwards. Your foot is the last thing in the doorframe.

The pain is blinding. Your vision goes white as a fiery warmth crawls up your leg. As your vision returns, so does your hearing; you were letting out a blood curdling scream, your throat raw, and your free leg gives out on you. You collapse backwards, sobbing as Randy grabs the dresser and yanks it back, freeing your foot.

Looking down, groaning in pain, you try to move your ankle. There’s resistance and an electrical shock shoots up to your knee. Not broken, but there’s clearly something wrong with it. You try and move it again, grunting as you press your foot flat to the ground, attempting to stand. The pain is too much. Fuck. If you can’t move it, you can’t walk on it, let alone run. You look up and see Randy standing in the doorway of your room, your dresser overturned behind him and your door half hung on its hinges. He cocks his head to the side and then takes a step forwards.

You scramble away as best you can, using your hands to push yourself towards the stairs. You can’t catch your breath, your pain and fear mixing together and suffocating you as you try desperately to breathe. Pain erupts from your ankle and your side, the involuntary noises you were making as you crawl away from your best friend making you sound like a wounded animal.

His footsteps are slow, taunting, consistent. Step… step… step. You keep your head up and forwards, eyes glued on the steps, your only possible solace. He allows you to make it to the top of the landing before he’s on you again, grabbing your shoulder and turning you over onto your back. “No! Get off of me, Randy!” You say, punching at his chest and squirming as he straddles you. He huffs from under the mask, grabbing at your wrists and pinning them to your chest with one hand, waving the knife over your face with the other.

“Ah, ah,” he coos as you fall still, still blubbering. “You’ve really entertained me tonight, Y/N, you know that?” The tip of the knife is pressed to your cheek, digging into your flesh until a small bead of blood bubbles up. You whimper, chin quivering. “You’ve really got the spirit of a final girl. I’m almost sad I have to kill you now.”

He brings the knife up, clutching it in two hands.

“Wait!” You cry out, using your free hands to cover your face. Your brain is scrambled, your heart is pounding, and everything hurts, but there's only one thought in your head. I don’t want to die. “I-I thought you wanted to fuck me?”

If he notices the fear and desperation in your voice, he doesn’t mention it. Randy goes still above you, knees digging into your sides, inadvertently pressing into your wound. “What?” He asks, and the incredulous tone that seeps through the modulator is almost enough to make you laugh.

“You… you said you’d fuck me.” You repeat, voice cracking. Disgust washes over you in droves, nearly choking away your next words. “I want you to.” Your eyebrows crease together as you swallow down the bile rising in your throat. He says nothing, the knife coming down to his side as he stares at you. You can just barely make out the glint of his eyes through the mesh.

“Don’t lie to me.” His voice is quieter, less sharp.

“I’m not.” You reaffirm, staring up at him, trying to keep your face straight. Shakily, you reach your hand up, hesitating as your fingertips brush against the latex of the mask, half expecting him to lash out and plunge the knife into your head. Randy’s breathing is ragged, but he doesn’t move.

Carefully gripping the material, you move the mask off of him, a far cry from how you had done it just a few minutes before. Randy’s face is sweatier now, redness expanding across his freckled cheeks to the tips of his ears. His eyes dart away from yours and he swallows hard, his adams apple bobbing. He almost looked nervous, which, all things considered, is funny.

A smile twitches at your lips despite it all. “I’ve always had a crush on you.” You say quietly, feeling your own face grow warm. Your pain has dulled into a throbbing and hot heat. Your ankle feels like sand, too heavy to move. Your side is still burning, ripples of pain traveling up your ribcage as you move your arms. His eyes snap to yours, eyebrows scrunched together in annoyance.

“Yeah, right.”

“I mean it.”

“I don’t believe you.” He says, watching you drop the mask onto the ground beside the two of you. “You just don’t want to die.”

You sigh slightly. “I don’t want to die.” You say, eyes flicking between his, watching them lighten ever so slightly. “But that doesn’t mean I’m lying about this. If I have to die… might as well get the truth out there, right?” You try and force a laugh, squirming uncomfortably before hissing in pain.

“You… really? On me?” He questions, wetting his cracked lips when you nod in confirmation. There’s a beat as he studies your face, trying to determine if you were lying, if he was a fucking idiot to believe a word out of your mouth. “I have to kill you.” He says finally, voice quiet. “You’ve seen my face. You’ll tell.”

“I know.” You confirm quietly. You’ve gone completely still by now, the adrenaline and fight rushing from your body in an instant. Tears prick at your eyes again and you turn your head to the side, staring at your broken bedroom door. Briefly, you wonder how expensive it’ll be to fix it. You bite back the unamused laugh that bubbles up in your throat at the realization it doesn’t matter; you won’t be the one paying to fix it after you die. “I just don’t want the last thing I remember about you to be… to be this.”

Randy doesn’t say a word, but you can feel his eyes glued on you. “I wanted it to be different.” He finally says, breaking the thin silence that had settled between you two. When you look back up at him, his eyebrows are threaded together. “Always thought it would be, you know… romantic.” Randy almost looks shy above you, like he was caught shoving a love note into your locker instead of a knife into your throat. “You really want to?”

You nod. It was true, in some strange way. Maybe it’s from the concussion he had surely given you when he smashed your head into the floor downstairs, or maybe it was from the shock slowly overtaking your body from your stab wound and fucked up ankle, or maybe you were, deep down, just as fucked up as Randy. You weren’t sure of the reason, but you were sure of the fact that you wanted him. Swallowing heavily, you nod again, more confident. “I do.”

He hesitates for only a moment, his eyes flashing with the uncertainty you had come to know and love. But you watch him take in your disheveled appearance, his eyes darkening, his throat bobbing as he swallows. “Take your shirt off.” He orders you quietly, and you listen without thinking. Randy wets his lips again as you awkwardly pull your top off, hissing as the fabric peels away from the wound. Your side is covered in blood, and you have to turn your head away as blood pulses out, covering the wooden floor underneath you.

You toss it to the side, shivering at the cold wood underneath your exposed skin. His hand comes and cups your breast carefully, gloved thumb running over the thin fabric separating him from your nipple. He hums as he sees it harden, the corner of his thin lips twitching upwards as he repeats the motion again. You sigh, your body relaxing under his touch, your eyes closing as you focus on the feeling and not the circumstances that led you here.

“I love your tits,” he mumbles, mostly to himself, his grip tightening as he squeezes. “God, the amount of times I’ve jerked off thinking about them, about you…” Randy lets out a small, breathless laugh. You whimper, squirming underneath him and wincing at the ripple of pain. You do your best to ignore it. He tosses the knife to the side, dipping down and kissing you hungrily, pressing his chest to yours.

He wanted to kiss you hard enough to fuse together, to become a blob of unrecognizable mass writhing in pleasure. You kiss back this time and he groans, his tongue pushing its way past your lips, sliding over yours. “Randy,” you say breathlessly, shuddering when he pulls your bra up past your tits, freeing them before you feel the cool leather envelop your flesh. His right hand is slick with blood, a mix of yours and his, smearing it across your flesh. You squirm under him again, pushing upwards against his crotch, pulling a grunt from him.

“You really want it bad, don’t you?” He questions hurriedly against the flesh of your neck as he nips at your pulse. “I bet I don’t even have to touch you and you’d find a way to cum, wouldn’t you? Yeah, I fuckin’ bet. But it wouldn’t be enough, would it?” His words send a shiver down your spine, your head swimming as his nose brushes along your neck up to your ear, his breath warm. “I can hear you when you fuck yourself at night, y’know? When you think I’m asleep, and you let yourself get a little louder, a bit more brave.”

“R-Really?”

“Mhm. Hearing your little whimpers, the sound of you cumming…” He lets out a low groan, pulling back as he works on shifting his weight, tugging your pajama pants and underwear down to your knees. “Let me see her,” he mutters, mostly to himself, as he pushes your knees apart. He ignores your hiss of pain as his pupils enlarge, eyes trained on your now spread cunt. You can feel your face grow warm. “Holy shit. Look at you.”

Randy reaches a gloved hand out, carefully dragging a finger up your slit. You swallow back a whimper at the feeling, your eyes widening when he holds the finger up to show you your wetness. You shouldn’t be wet right now. Waves of disgust recede briefly only to crash back over you, time and time again, drowning you. “Look at this… fuck, I didn’t know you’d get off on this too.”

His smile is large, stretched across his skin to the point it looks like it hurts. He dips his head down, hands on your thighs, nose hovering above your pussy, and he breathes in deep. He moans - whimpers - and wastes no time, his pink lips wrapping around your clit and sucking.

“R-Randy!” You moan, your thighs attempting to close around his head. His fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs, holding you open for him. “Oh shit,” you groan, your eyes squeezing shut as you do your best to focus on the quick-building pleasure in your gut rather than the ever-persistent pain in your side as your body involuntarily moves against his tongue.

Randy moans against you, letting go of your clit in favor of flicking his tongue back and forth along your slit, tasting as much of you as he can. “So fuckin’ good baby,” he mutters, his nose bumping along your clit as he pushes his tongue in your hole. It makes you gasp sharply and he hums, eyes opening to look up at you through heavy lids. He wasn’t lying when he told you he thought about this moment a lot, late at night in bed, hand wrapped around his cock. “Tell me you like it.”

His voice is muffled by your cunt and you don’t register it, your mind reeling with your situation as your orgasm steadily began to build. It hung heavy in your gut, growing thicker and bigger with each passing second, with each flick of his tongue and bump of his nose. Your pussy hurt, throbbing with need, desperate for release. And then, finally, you’re right there, toes beginning to curl, dots of color dancing in the dark of your closed eyes, when he stops. “What the fuck?”

He snorts at your meak and confused protest. You force your eyes to open, chest heaving, and involuntarily you glance down at the puddle of blood under you. It’s only grown, and the realization nearly takes the wind out of you. You felt tired, cold, exhausted.

“I told you to tell me you like it.”

“I-I didn’t hear you.”

“I know. Too caught up in how good I was making your pussy feel, right?’ He asks, voice soothing. “Couldn’t even be bothered to pretend to hate it.” You look up at him and he smiles, the corner of his lips curling upward. “Dirty fuckin’ bitch, huh? Is that what you are, Y/N?”

You shake your head and he laughs. “I’m not.” You say, trying to have any ounce of conviction in your tone, but it only serves to amuse him further. His stupid shit-eating grin makes a flash of anger course through you. “I’m not.” You say again, nostrils flaring. Your fight dies down as his smile drops and his eyebrows stitch together in annoyance.

“No?” He asks, cocking his head to the side. Without breaking eye contact, his left hand moves from your thigh to your pussy, pressing against your clit to an almost painful degree. The pressure makes you jolt, a groan being pulled from your lips. “You’re not getting off on how much I’ve hurt you?” Randy questions casually, taking his fingers and moving them down to your pulsing hole.

Whimpering as you feel him prod at your opening, you simply squeeze your eyes shut in response. You wouldn’t give him the fucking satisfaction. He’s not deterred by your stubbornness; he’s been friends with you long enough to know that it was all a facade, a way to keep control when you had none. It was one of his favorite things about you.

“You might not like it,” he says, humming as he begins to press the leather-clad finger into your cunt. You hiss at the slight stretch, face screwing up at the strange sensation of the leather sliding along your walls. There’s only a brief second of resistance before your body lets him continue. “But she sure does.” He purrs, breath hot against your bare thigh as he begins to pump his finger inside you. “Let me right in, didn’t she? Imagine how she’s gonna react when I finally give you my cock.”

You whimper; it’s involuntary, an accident, maybe not even from pleasure, but it doesn’t matter. The noise is encouragement, a golden stamp of approval, for Randy. His finger picks up speed as you cream around the digit, the sound of your wetness increasing with each pump. Another finger is pushed in and you whimper. “O-ow!” You whine at the stretch.

“Shut up,” he hisses, his blue eyes narrowing. “You think my cocks not gonna hurt when I fuckin’ shove it in here?” He follows his question with a third finger, the added stretch of the leather sending a shiver up your spine. You suck in a breath, shuddering with each pump, your own arousal loud enough for you to hear it. “You should see your fuckin’ pussy right now, baby, I mean… fuuuck. Creaming around my fucking fingers. Your clit’s throbbing; bet that hurts, doesn’t it? It’s all achey, desperate for me to touch it?”

You don’t want to answer his mocking words. A part of you is screaming at you to do something and get the fuck out of there, to get his hands out and off of you, to hold onto some of your dignity before your death. It’s not loud enough. “Y-yes!” You grunt, your eyebrows threaded together. “It hurts, Ray, fuck, j-just, please!” Your voice is whiny, cracking in the middle of your begging, your hips trying to push forwards in a desperate attempt for friction. “I’ll cum, I swear to god I will!”

He hums, his fingers curling inside you. The pleasure, while good, spreading throughout your whole body, isn’t enough. “You’re tellin’ me if I touch your clit you’ll cum?” Randy asks, amusement clear in his voice. You nod desperately, meeting his eyes. His cheeks are tinged pink with exertion, a hungry look in his eyes. He leans forwards, eyes flicking down to your clit, and you expect him to flick his tongue against the throbbing bud or suck it into his mouth.

Instead, he lets out a small breath, the cool air focused on your clit, and you cum.

“There you go, baby,” he says, watching you with a lopsided grin as your body shakes, legs attempting to close around his shoulders, pussy clenching rhythmically around his fingers. A low groan slips past your parted lips, ending in a pained whimper as the pleasure ebbs away, making way for the ache in your side. “God, I knew you were gonna look beautiful cumming.”

His voice is soft, sweet. In another world, he would have said that to you in your bed, the two of you surrounded by plush pillows and warm blankets instead of blood. You blink a few times, staring up at the popcorn ceiling, a warm tear slipping down your face to your ear. You sniffle as you feel him move from between your legs, pulling his fingers out slowly. He presses them to your lips and you don’t need him to tell you what to do.

Your mouth parts, your eyes closing as he presses his fingers past your lips. “Fuck.” He breathes as your face screws up slightly at the metallic taste that accompanied your own arousal, remembering how your blood had covered the leather before he began touching you. “Almost done sweetheart, I promise.” He murmurs, sliding his digits over your tongue, pressing down a bit before pulling them out.

You watch as he bunches the fabric of the robe into his hand, pulling it up enough to reveal his jeans, his cock pressing against the fabric. His free hands fumbles with the button for a moment before he huffs, his face growing a darker shade of red in embarrassment as he drops the robe, using both hands to unbutton and shove his jeans down.

“God, maybe I’ll make you take my cock in your ass.” He says, groaning as he wraps his blood-and-cum-covered hand around his cock. He strokes himself once before pausing and spitting into his gloved palm, looking down at you, a sadistic glint in his eyes as he watches a ripple of fear go through you. “Never had one there, have you?” He shakes his head, answering his own question. “Nah, too respectable, aren’t you? You’re not a slut when you bring home another fucking douchebag. You just let ‘em fuck your mouth a bit and then your pussy, right?”

“Randy-”

“No.” He snaps, his face screwing up into a snarl. “Just shut the fuck up, alright? For years I’ve been sitting by, watching asshole after asshole get to touch you, get to flirt and kiss and fuck you. And I sat back like a good friend, like a fucking gentlemen, cleaning up their fucking mess with no reward.” He moans, his hips bucking forwards into his hand. A bead of sweat rolls down his nose, dripping onto the robe. “Fuck that. I might as well have my fun.”

Leaning forwards, he smashes his mouth against yours. He ignores your whimper of pain, the tears that had steadily built up and fallen during his rant. His tongue forces its way past your lips and Randy moans at the feeling of you kissing back. At this point, it didn’t matter to him if you really were enjoying it; what mattered was that he was able to be with you in the way he’s been dreaming of since you had met.

With one of his hands, he lines his cock up to your entrance, swiping the leaking and swollen tip through your folds as he pulls away from your mouth to straighten up. The both of you let out a noise of pleasure, and he grins, pleased at your lack of fight. It was fun during the chase, but now he was fulfilling a fantasy. “Ready?” He asks, pressing his hips forwards a bit, prodding at your opening. You feel so fucking warm against him that he shudders, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment to stop from cumming then and there.

You’re not. You are, actually, but you don’t want to admit it. Sniffling, you shake your head quickly. “N-not yet,” you say, watching his expression soften as he meets your eyes. He bends down again, his pink lips pressing soft kisses along your jaw. His other hand runs along your side, goosebumps raising on the exposed skin in his wake.

Your eyes close and you imagine yourself in bed with him, comfortable and safe. The warmth underneath you is no longer your own blood, but the heated blanket you had for the winter. The metallic smell a candle, the robe tickling your bare stomach a blanket. “Okay.”

“Yeah?” He murmurs against your cheek, tilting his head back to look at your face. There's a dazed look in your eyes, but when you nod again in confirmation, he grins. “Good girl,” Randy says as he begins to push inside you. “It’ll feel good, I promise.” He dips his head down to kiss you as he pushes past your body's natural resistance, moaning hot into your mouth just as you did. “H-holy fuck!” Randy shudders, his voice cracking as he bottoms out. “S-so fucking tight, and warm, fuck!”

His cock is thicker than any of the guys’ you’ve been with before, stretching and filling you up with every inch he pushes in. Your arms wrap around his shoulders, your head burying into his shoulder. Your side throbs with pain, but you’re able to ignore it and the blood still spilling from the wound, your head growing cloudy. Part of it you can blame on blood loss, on survival, on instinct. The rest of it is purely you. “Fuck, Randy! O-oh my god!” You gasp as he pulls out, the tip of his cock the only thing left in your cunt until he shoves every inch back inside.

Your fingers scramble to grab at his shoulders as he pistons his cock in and out of you when you accidentally dig your finger into his stab wound. “Fuck!” He yells, his movements stalling, and you remove your hand instantly, your heart nearly stopping in fear. Your apologies come quick, nearly incoherent, but he shuts you up with a grin. “Fuck, do that again.” He says, his hips moving again.

“W-what?”

“Do it again.” Randy repeats, a glimmer in his eye as he grabs your hand, his fingers awkwardly pressing yours into his wound. You grimace at the feeling of your fingertip pressing into the warm and bloody hole. He grunts in pain, his face screwing up into a grimace, but he doesn’t let you pull away and his hips dont stop fucking into you. “F-fuck. Oh god, your pussy is so fucking good.” He moans, pressing your finger in deeper, to the first knuckle. “Jesus Christ, you’re so fuckin’ tight. You like this don’t you?”

Randy grunts, keeping his eyes trained on you, before he pushes your finger into the wound further. The hole is warm and you can feel the flesh throb around your finger. His cock is throbbing inside you, and you’re not sure how much is from your cunt and how much so from this. He yelps in pain again, finally letting your hand go.

It drops back to your chest as his thrusts speed up, his free hand coming down to rub at your clit. “Oh, shit!” You moan, your eyes rolling into the back of your head. “Randy, oh my god, I-I’m so fucking close!” Your whimpers only spur him on, his thrusts bordering on painful as his hips snap against your own. Your ankle is still throbbing but you can move it with only a brief moment of sharp pain.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Y/N,” Randy whines, his voice cracking in pleasure. “Been dreaming, shit! Been dreaming of fucking you, god damn, and it’s so much better than I could have imagined.” His head tilts back slightly, eyes closing as his hips begin to sputter. “Come on, cum on my fucking cock, alright? Be a good girl for me, don’t hold back, alright? I want it, fuuuuuck, please? Please let me feel you cum on my dick, Y/N. Don’t you wanna cum one last time, baby?”

His words cut through you in an instant. A choked whimper is all you can manage as you cum, tightening around him and making him shudder. His thrusts are so fucking sloppy now, his mouth hung open and panting, drool building at the corner of his mouth. He hurriedly thanks you, telling you how good your fucking pussy feels, how he’s going to cum inside you and make sure you feel how much he loves it. You can’t focus on anything other than the words ringing in your ears.

“Don’t you wanna cum one last time, baby?”

He was going to kill you. You knew that; he told you as much. A naive part of you thought that maybe, somehow, he’d fuck you and then decide to let you go.

“Oh my god, I’m gonna cum.” Randy says, his cock throbbing with each thrust. His face is screwed up in concentration, hands digging into the flesh of your thighs. “I’m gonna fucking cum inside you, Y/N!”

You bring your hand up and dig your thumb into his shoulder as far as it can go.

Randy screams in pain, falling backwards in an attempt to get away from you. You follow him, hovering above him on your knees as he thrashes under you, ignoring your own pain. “FUCK!” He screams, finally shoving you backwards away from him. He sobs, his hand clutching his shoulder, heat traveling up and down his arm. “You stupid fucking bitch! What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

You don’t waste any time. You’re not even thinking anymore, your body taking over to save itself. You shove your pants and underwear back up, tugging your bra back down over your tits as you stumble to the steps. The sharp pain in your ankle is back tenfold, nearly blinding you, but the sound of Randy struggling to his feet keeps you going.

Clutching the handrail, you drag your body down to the steps. You’re sweating, cold and hot all at once, the wound on your side steadily dripping blood down your thigh. “Get the fuck back here!” He’s at the top of the steps as you reach the bottom, hauling ass to the front door.

Everything hurts. You aren’t sure if you’re even breathing as you struggle down the hallway, grabbing onto the wall to drag your body to safety. Every step you take knocks the fucking wind out of you, spots in your vision, but the adrenaline is keeping you going. You had a chance and your body knew it.

Randy is thundering down the steps, his cock straining against his unbuttoned jeans. Not only had you hurt him, you had denied him the one thing he wanted from you. “You fucking bitch,” he screams, spit flying from his lips. He reaches the bottom of the steps and turns, watching as you reach the front door, grabbing your keys from the dish. You look backwards and spot him, knife in hand, his teeth gnashing in annoyance. “I’ll fucking gut you for this.” He shouts as you unlock the door and stumble outside and off the porch, straight into the arms of campus police.

“Jesus!” The uniformed man grunts, catching you in his arms. “Are you alright, miss? We got calls about some screams.” He peers down at you, moving his hand and seeing it covered in your blood. He curses, grabbing his walkie talkie and calling for backup. You’re sobbing still, heart thumping and beating at your ribs, shivering against him. It was cold, and the heat from your wound only seemed to spread when Randy was on top of you. “Miss,” he says, repeating it a few times until you finally lift your head to look at him. “A few more officers are coming out to help, but I need to know what happened, okay? Who did this to you?”

You turn to look back at your house, staring through the opened living room door. Nothing. Randy was gone. You can see the open back door further down the lit hall, the breeze making the drawn shade move gently. He was gone, but he’d be back. You turn to look back at the cop, your breathing uneven, and you blink.

“Ghostface.”

#f1nalboys masterlist #f1nalboys writing #f1nalboys works #scream #scream franchise #ghostface x reader #randy meeks #randy meeks x reader #randy meeks x y/n #ghostface x y/n #scream 2 #scream 1996 #scream 1997 #im sensitive so be careful with how u proceed towards me ..... HEHEHW #love nasty fucked up evil randy

125 notes · View notes

diaphragmjellyfish · 7 months ago

Text

Gentleman

Rafe Cameron x reader

College AU

Smut, 18+ only

Tw: hazing, prostitution if you squint, me being back from the dead after years

Whoever invented nylon underwear was on your personal hit list after today. You understood it was more for show than for go, but seriously, you’ve never been so uncomfortable in your life. Surrounded by the other pledges, you got yourselves dolled up like strippers to be auctioned off to the campus’ leading fraternity. What the fuck, right? It was “for charity,” but you knew that was just an extreme to cover up this ridiculous hazing process. The idea was that all the pledges had to prance around a basement in lingerie in front of a bunch of douchey frat boys and let them bid on a night with you. If you chickened out or didn’t get high enough bids, you’d be dropped. So here you were, applying a final coat of clear lip gloss before being lined up like horses at auction getting ready for slaughter.

“Alright ladies, look alive!” the sorority president yelled as she jaunted through the makeshift dressing room. “These boys have full pockets and hard cocks, let’s not keep them waiting.” Real classy. And the fact that some of these girls actually seemed excited was beyond you. If your whole future wasn’t relying on getting into this sorority, you’d have been gone a long time ago. But here you were, about to whore yourself out for a chance at your dream.

“Layci, you’re first,” you heard as you and the other livestock – I mean, ladies – lined up by the door in the order that you’d drawn earlier in the day. You were third from last. You assumed the boys would all throw their money on the first bunch of girls, meaning the end of the line would be left to fight over the scraps of what was left. And you knew this fraternity too– had heard their name mentioned on campus a lot. Known for using Daddy’s money to throw expensive parties with VIP lists and endless cocaine, their elite functions were held only at country clubs and private beaches, mansions and yachts. Hopefully that at least meant that whatever pig won your bid would be a two-pump-chump and you could be over and done with this whole thing before midnight.

“Push up those titties and pout those lips,” the president shouted with an evil enthusiasm, “the show is about to begin.” She took one last look at the desperate lineup of girls, adorned in the sluttiest garments they could muster. You shouldn’t think too little of them. After all, you were standing among them. You had your own reasons for being here, so you would give the others the benefit of the doubt too. The president skipped out of the room and to the basement, where the bidding would take place. This was all happening in the fraternity house, or mansion you should say. They had set up lights, speakers, and a runway for the annual event. You heard the president through the microphone from where you stood.

“Welcome, gentlemen, welcome! To the annual Kappa Delta Theta bid night for charity!” You heard a hoard of whooping and clinking of glasses. “Let me just say that tonight’s lineup of young ladies is sure to exceed all expectations. Please use your paddles to place your bids as the ladies walk out. Feel free to use those later tonight, too,” she suggested cheekily, and was met with comments dripping in testosterone and entitlement. “All proceeds will go to Kappa Delta Theta’s charity of choice, the Charlotte Food Pantry, which feeds over one thousand families per week.” Well, at least you could get behind that.

“We ask that you please let us know if your chosen lady does not meet your needs. After all, these girls are still proving themselves as honorary members of the Kappa house.” She went on to say, a subtle warning to the waiting girls. “Once you have won your bid, please make your way to the back room where you will meet your lady and be sent to one of the private rooms in the house. After that, the rest is up to you!” Cheers and hollering followed as the president brought out her list of girls.

“Let me introduce you to lady number one, Layci,” she announced as the lighting dimmed and a spotlight was shown on the curtained entryway. Layci breathed deep and plastered a smile on her face before exiting into the room– a gazelle marching into a hoard of lions. “Layci majors in marketing, and enjoys Sunday football and Bud Light Limes. Let’s start the bid at $100.” You struggled to hear the remainder of the bidding amongst the shouting and music until you heard a “Sold! To Trey Parker for $375.” Trey Parker, Jesus. You were glad he hadn’t bid on you, but felt extremely bad for Layci. He was an obnoxious drunk, known for snorting coke and punching walls when his football team lost. This was going to be a long night.

You attempted to dissociate and drown out the rest of the bidding as the girls filed out one by one, but before you knew it, you were face to face with that daunting curtain. The bidding had seemed to slow down a lot, and the room grew quieter as the boys won their bids and moved on to claim their prizes elsewhere in the house.

“Gentlemen, we only have a few ladies left, so let’s see those wallets! Next up, we have a Pre-Law major who enjoys pina coladas and getting caught in the rain, gentlemen give it up for Y/N!” you mustered up all the courage you had, pushed your bra strap up one final time, and walked into the blinding spotlight. You saw the glares of eyes watching your every step, analyzing your body, your face. Never in your life had you felt so vulnerable. Law school. Law school. You reminded yourself of your goal, and that gave you the courage to plaster on a smile and strut down the walkway. Whistles could be heard, but you ignored them and gave a spin before walking back up.

“Let’s start at $100,” she stated as you waited for the inevitable sting of a low bid. After all, you hadn’t put nearly as much thought into this as some of the girls had. Waxing, laser, facials, nails… all you had done was shaved and shown up. A paddle raised in your line of sight. Shit, was that Tanner Marshall? A cocky boy with a beer gut and entitled attitude, you’d heard rumors of his temper. Multiple women on campus had horror stories about him. Please, God, anyone else. Please not him.

Another paddle raised in the corner of your eye from a boy you hadn’t seen before. “$200,” he said quietly as his eyes raked your frame. He was cute, you wouldn’t lie, but you had no reason to believe he was any better than Tanner Marshall. His blue eyes met yours as he adjusted his backwards baseball hat and leaned forward.

“$350,” said Tanner with a smirk.

“$500,” the mystery boy countered without missing a beat.

“Woah, woah, let’s slow down, boys. There’s still a couple other girls after this,” the sorority president countered.

“$600,” Tanner Marshall forced, growing frustrated at the thought of taking a loss.

“$750,” Mystery Boy added, showing no signs of giving up. The highest bid you heard so far was $800. Did you stand a chance at topping that? If you did, they’d have to let you join for sure. To sweeten the pot, you threw a wink towards Tanner Marshall, as much as it sickened you.

“$900,” he said in a pained voice after seeing your flirtatious act.

A silence followed. Shit, you shouldn’t have done that. Mentally prepping for the most traumatic night of your life, you heard a solid “$1,000” from Mystery Boy. All heads turned to him at this extreme bid.

The sorority president seemed shocked at that, but gathered herself and announced, “One thousand dollars, going once,” please, please God please, “Going twice,” let him win and let him be an ounce kinder than Tanner Marshall, “Sold! To Rafe Cameron.”

Rafe Cameron, you’d heard his name mentioned before on campus but had few details to go off. You locked eyes with him once more before making your way back through the curtain and releasing a large sigh. It was over, but it wasn’t. Now came the tough part. Yes, you’d won the highest bid of the night, but now you had to fulfill it. Would he be aggressive? Would he listen to your pleas to be gentle? Would he fuck you and throw you into the hallway like trash after?

Your thoughts were interrupted as you were herded back to the entryway of the house by one of the sorority sisters. She handed you a strip of condoms and said “Good luck,” before leaving you to wait for Rafe Cameron to show up. The seconds felt like days as you paced in your stripper heels, attempting not to roll an ankle. Footsteps sounded in the distance and got closer. You held your breath as Rafe turned the corner and locked eyes with you once more. He let his gaze fall openly down your body once more and then gestured towards the stairs with a smirk. “Shall we?”

The trek to your private room didn’t last nearly as long as you had hoped. As you both entered, he turned to close and lock the door behind you. You stood in the center of the floor awkwardly, waiting for him to give you some cue as to what to do. Should you try to talk to him? Should you kiss? Should you drop your underwear and bend over and let him do what he pleased? This was an entirely new scenario to you, and you had absolutely no idea what to do. He waited as well, hands in his pockets, though not out of nerves. It was a test. He was trying to see if you were forward enough to take action, or if the awkwardness would be too much for you to stand. You held eye contact firm. He seemed pleased with this and broke the tension.

“Y/N, right?”

You nodded in response.

“Face down on the bed, hands behind your back.” Your breathing stopped, and you couldn’t move. So this was the type of night this would turn out to be. You’d be meat. He watched your shocked expression and waited for movement, before cracking a smile and saying “I’m kidding.”

“Oh,” you breathed, relieved and feeling slightly looser.

He kicked off his expensive shoes and hopped on the bed, hands behind his head as he leaned back against the pillows. He patted the seat next to him in a silent order to sit. You perched on the edge of the bed and leaned down to finally take off your excruciating shoes. You sighed in relief once they were off, and spun to sit next to him, still feeling unsure.

“I’m not sure what to do,” you finally admitted, hands picking at each other. His piercing blue eyes made contact with your own. He was extremely confident, and it was a little intimidating.

“Well, we’re supposed to have sex,” he stated plainly, hands still behind his head.

“Right,” you said nervously, “so should we just… start?”

“Why you doing this?” He questioned, the sudden change of topic giving you whiplash. “You don’t seem like you want to be here, so why are you?”

“Uhh,” you thought. Should you lie and act into it? Should you be honest only for him to treat you like a chew toy anyways? “Well, I uh, I just need to get into this sorority.”

“Other ones weren’t fancy enough for you?” he questioned, a joke laced in truth.

“Not exactly,” you started. “There’s a grad school I want to go to. Need to go to. And of girls in this sorority who apply, 90% get accepted. The Dean was a Kappa.”

He nodded in understanding. “That’s a better reason than most,” he finally responded, giving you some comfort. “I was right, though.”

At this, you gave him a questioning look. “Right about what?”

“You’re not Kappa material. That house is for sluts and party girls.” You were caught off guard by his bold language, and somewhat offended at his accusation, though you know deep down that he was right.

“Well then why did you pay $1,000 for me if I’m not a slut?” you countered, trying to throw something, anything, back at him.

“Because you’re smoking. And I know what Tanner Marshall does to girls, and you’re too innocent for that.”

“I am not innocent,” you huffed, glaring at him through a blush. He doesn’t know you. Who does he think he is labeling you like that?

“Oh yeah? How many guys have you slept with?” he argued. You paused. Should you lie? You didn’t want him to think you couldn’t handle yourself in the bedroom. Then, he might tell Kappa that you weren’t satisfactory and you’d never get in. Something about his stare, though, demanded honesty. You could see him being a very cut-throat boss or CEO someday.

“...one.”

“One guy, or one time?” Damn him. Was he a mind reader or something?

“.... one time. There, happy now?”

“What did you think?”

“What did I think of what?” you countered.

“The sex. Did you like it?”

You paused. This conversation was taking a turn, but what did you expect from a night like tonight?

“It was… fine,” you admitted.

“Just fine?” he prodded, “did you finish?”

“Wha– that’s none of your business,” you argued. He must have some real ego, asking you a question like that.

“So, no,” he stated. Your intense blush only confirmed his remark.

He smirked to himself, contemplating his next words.

“So, Y/n, here’s my offer.” He was definitely a business bro in the making. “We can stay in here for 20 minutes, make some crazy noises, and you can tell everyone we had sex so you can get into your precious sorority. No hard feelings. Or, you can actually let me fuck you. You’ll learn what good sex is supposed to feel like, and walk out of here an honest woman.”

What an insane offer. He was giving you a free pass to get out of this after dropping $1k for a night with you. He would let you walk away and tell everyone you had gone through with it. What was the catch?

“What makes you think I’ll like it any better with you?” you countered, feeling defensive.

“Oh, trust me, you will,” he smirked again. You wanted to wipe that smirk off his stupid cute face. Damn him. Why were you even considering this? You should take the free pass and run, you thought. But for some reason, you stopped. He was super hot, and you were in college. There was nothing wrong with wanting to get a little more experience, especially if you were going to spend your entire school career in the library doing test prep. You know what? Maybe you should do it. After all, he spent big money to save you from a worse fate, and was giving you options right now. You wondered how many of the other pledges were wishing they had that offer tonight.

“Okay,” you breathed, feeling emboldened by your choice.

“Okay, what?” he quipped.

“Okay, we can… do it,” you responded, again feeling shy but trying to power through it. His face lit up with a laugh at your phrasing.

“Well then, come here, sweetheart,” he muttered, pulling you closer to him by the hips as you gasped. You were fully lying down next to him now, and he was leaning over you with a hand on your inner thigh, your leg pushed up against his stomach. He leaned down and confidently took your lips with his own. You squeaked in surprise at his boldness before sinking further into the mattress and shutting your eyes. He kissed you slowly, yet dominantly, tongue peaking out to brush your lips before retreating so as not to scare you with too much, too fast. His one elbow remained propped by your head as his other hand rubbed soft patterns on your thigh. That felt nice, you thought, as your body grew hotter. If the rest of the night was going to be anything like this, you were in for it.

Breathing heavily, you pulled away for air as he brought his mouth to your neck. He licked a firm stripe up the side, pulling another gasp out of you, before sucking down on a patch of skin. He soothed with his tongue before lightly biting, being sure to leave a mark. You began to writhe underneath him at the sensation, which he definitely noticed.

“Feelin’ good?” he muttered, face still buried in your neck. You felt the urge to tease him as he had been teasing you all night.

“It’s… fine,” you giggled, attempting to knock his confidence. But he only sucked harder at this, drawing a yelp from you. He sat up on his knees before you and tore his t-shirt off in a fervor. He paused for a moment, giving you time to pump the brakes. However, you took that time to admire his defined torso, lined with lean muscle and veins trailing down below his waistband. You wanted to find out where they lead. He adjusted his backwards hat and lowered himself onto the bed between your legs, hooking your thighs over his shoulders. He began to kiss your inner thighs before you stopped him.

“We can skip this part,” you said breathlessly. He looked at you, confused.

“Why?”

“I just… I don’t really like it, is all,” you admitted. He looked at you like you just spoke Chinese.

“You’ve had one guy who had no idea what he was doing eat you out. I’m doing it, and you’re gonna like it. Besides, I’m not fucking you without getting you warmed up first.” He said it almost as an order, and you had no choice but to let him continue. Maybe it would be different this time. You doubted it, but it was possible. He used a hand to push you back down on the bed and began kissing your thighs once more. You were only in a bra and underwear, so he had easy access to you, but he didn’t go straight for it just yet. He kissed and sucked around your thighs and hips, careful not to touch your center. He was being a tease.

You lost yourself in the feeling and began to writhe once more. Noticing this, Rafe brought a hand down to pull your underwear to the side, and met your center with a soft kiss. Your nerves were all lit up at this point, so even the small motion felt great. Your hips bucked up for more friction, but he pulled away.

“What do you say?” he teased.

“Please,” you pleaded without any thought to it. He mumbled a ‘fuck’ at this, and commented, “What a good girl you are.” He brought his mouth back down and began to lick stripes up your center before suckling on your clit. This action caused a small moan to leave your mouth, which only encouraged him more. He continued these motions for God knows how long, licking, suckling, kissing, until you were a squirming mess underneath him. Then, he brought a single finger to your center, swirling it around your hole to collect your juices, before pushing it inside you to the second knuckle. He paused here so as not to hurt you, and waited for a reaction. When he found none, he pushed his digit all the way in, and studied your face as he brushed your inner wall in a “come here” motion. You gasped as your eyes shut closed and your head dropped back. Shit, that felt good.

“That’s it,” he mumbled as he kept up this motion, adding his mouth back into the mix once he was satisfied with your facial expressions. The combination of his mouth and finger was insane. You’d never felt anything like this before, even by yourself. This must have been what girls were talking about when they raved about oral.

“Oh my God, Rafe,” you sighed. He moaned in response, grinding his hips into the mattress. After several more minutes of this, he sat up and looked for the strip of condoms that had been forgotten on the floor. Standing from the bed and tearing one off, he dropped his pants and tore the packet open with his teeth. You admired him. He was straight out of a Greek myth, all corded rope muscles and a jawline that could cut a man. His tall frame overtook the room, and his dick… it was… big. Big enough to have you concerned. The last guy you had been with was half the size, and the pain was excruciating. Rafe saw your concerned face.

“Y’okay?”

“Yeah, it’s just, um… “ he waited patiently for a response. “Would you mind, maybe, like… starting kind of… slow?” you finally managed to drag out.

He looked at you again with a hint of laughter on his face.

“Honey… I’m not just gonna jam it in you,” he laughed. “We’ll take it easy. I’m not a monster.”

You giggled with him at this and relaxed into the bed once more. He kneeled before you on the bed looking like a Calvin Klein ad. Hands beside your head, he lowered himself on top of you and gave you a sweet kiss. He lined himself up and asked, “Ready?”

You nodded and felt him push his tip through your folds. He pressed carefully into you as you stiffened at the stretch. His face was buried in your neck once more, kissing up and down softly. Feeling your tense muscles, he whispered an order. “Breathe,” he soothed, the hand that wasn’t holding himself up petting your hair. You did as told and attempted to relax your body. He slid further in and paused to let you adjust.

You peeked down at your joined bodies and saw that the fullness you felt inside of you was only half of his length.

“Jesus,” you sighed.

“You’re okay,” he whispered, holding you steady. His words were the only thing keeping you grounded in that moment as you tried to manage the stretch of him. When he was most of the way seated, he pulled out a couple of inches and carefully pushed back in. You felt the drag of him on your walls, and let out a sigh. The sensation was bordering on painful, but the pressure of his tip inside you was a needed and pleasurable distraction. He did this once more, pushing deeper in this time, and continued this motion until he was fully seated inside of you.

“How’s it feel?” he questioned.

“It’s a lot,” you breathed, unsure how to describe it.

“I know baby, I know,” he comforted, hand still petting your head. “Let’s get you goin’, yeah?”

You nodded, though you would have agreed with anything he said in that moment. He dragged himself out halfway and pushed back in. He was still being gentle, but was definitely picking up the pace and made sure to watch you for any signs of discomfort. He sat up to a kneeling position between your legs and brought his hands to your waist, holding you steady for him. He worked into a quicker pace and brought a thumb to your clit, drawing small circles. This had you bucking your hips to meet his, soft moans beginning to leave your mouth. You closed your eyes and dropped your head back, falling into the moment.

Seeing you relax, he cooed, “There you go.”

“Oh my God,” you sighed, brows scrunching at his relentless rhythm. This was nothing like your last time, and you were so grateful for that. His thumb quickened on your clit, drawing higher and louder moans from you. “Fuck, Rafe,” you moaned loudly, only spurring him on further. His own moans joined yours, and you felt your stomach tighten. You tensed, and he noticed, not changing a thing about his actions until you were seeing stars. Your whole body tightened as you came, thighs trembling and mouth hanging open in a silent scream, and he watched every second of it, keeping pace until you peeled his hand off your center, the feeling becoming too much to handle. He dropped his hand, but remained constant with his hips until you saw his own face begin to scrunch. He moaned a “Fuck, Y/N” as he spilled into the condom, and paused for his own high to blow over before pulling out of you gently. You felt an emptiness in you then, wanting him back inside of you but knowing you both needed a break. After throwing away the condom, he came back to lay beside you on the bed, heavy breathing matching your own.

Your eyes remained closed, but you became conscious of how long you were lingering. Wasn’t that rule number one of hook-ups? You were supposed to leave right after?

“Sorry, just give me a second and I’ll go,” you huffed, still catching your breath.

He looked over at you and, after realizing what you said, spoke, “you’re not going anywhere.” You looked at him in slight confusion.

“We’re gonna snuggle and then go get some food. I’m fucking starving after that.”

“Okay,” you conceded. Again, you would have agreed to anything that man had said in that moment. You didn’t have the energy or will power to put up a fight. He pulled you onto his chest and wrapped his arms around you, kissing your forehead and soothing your skin with his fingers. You sighed and shut your eyes, soaking in the moment.

“So?” he prodded, that same cocky tone as before lacing his voice.

“So, what?” you teased.

“I’m guessing by your volume that you liked it,” he retorted. You felt yourself blush at this, not realizing that you had been particularly loud. He felt your embarrassment and comforted with a laugh, “It’s okay, I like loud. It was hot.” All you could do was giggle and bury your face in his chest.

“Hungry?” he changed the subject. You nodded, and he sat up and said, “Get dressed, gorgeous.” You looked down at the wrinkled lingerie that still adorned your figure, realizing that you didn’t have anything else to wear. You certainly couldn’t wear this in public. This wasn’t Vegas. He saw where your gaze landed and seemed to understand. After putting on his joggers, he walked over to you with his shirt and put it over your head, pulling the sleeves over your arms. “Doordash it is, then.”

#rafe cameron #rafe x reader #outer banks #rafe cameron smut #drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey smut #jj x reader #john b outer banks #pope obx #obx #obx fic #obx smut

123 notes · View notes