#cw.knife

“hello.” their voice is smooth but.. not who you were expecting and you can’t shake the way your shoulders seem to slump with the reply. “hi, can i.. help you?” you ask, trying not to sound too disappointed that it wasn’t the man you seek.

“who is this?” the sound of the television on your end goes from near full volume to something a little lower, and your brows furrow almost instinctively at their question.. because, didn’t think they call you?

“who are you trying to reach?” you snort and you hear the person on the other side of the phone hum in a way that tells you they’re not too sure. “i’m not sure.. what’s your name?”

there’s another change in the air, one that makes you bring your feet up onto the lip of the couch at their question before you reply quickly, not wanting to let the silence they let stay linger.

“i’m sorry.. i think you have the wrong number.” a beat of silence followed by a cocky reply, “do i? then how about you tell me your name and i’ll tell you mine.” before you breathe and continue “no thanks, im waiting on a call but have a good night.” you don’t give them an opportunity to answer this time, and you’re pretty sure you cut off whatever they were next going to say.

but you feel cold suddenly, acutely aware of the noises outside your apartment as you sit your phone facedown on the table, and try to focus on the film you suddenly don’t feel like watching anymore.

but then it rings again, and you want to mentally punch yourself for letting your head turn a little too quickly — another unknown number, but maybe just a coincidence.. right?

“hello?” followed by a reply that’s a little too quick. “oh, i’m sorry. not the call you were waiting for?” but you curse yourself for the way their teasing seems to make your lips break into a whisper of a grin. “not this time..” you breathe and they don’t stop with that. “no? don’t wanna talk to me instead?”

“yeah, nice try. again—have a good night, see ya.” you feel a little unsettled when your phone hits the table this time, the caller was probably innocent but something seems.. strange. your neck feels unbearably warm and it takes a few moments for you to pull yourself off the couch before you’re retreating to the kitchen — splashing your face with some cold water to calm yourself down.

you let yourself take a moment, look in the fridge like the contents will have changed since the last time you were in there. but then even from the kitchen you hear the ring of your phone from the living room, and you’re suddenly aware of the goosebumps ripping across your arms.

but you stride quickly, not bothering to give the caller id a second glance because — it won’t be, right?

“uh, hello?” you repeat, and you think you’re suddenly sick of hearing the greeting. “don’t hang up on me.” there’s a drop in their tone this time, but it’s the same drawled out, smooth sound — followed by a long exhale like they’re smoking a cigarette or releasing a held breath.

“what do you want?” you shift, suddenly not feeling like sitting back down in your previous spot. “to talk, kill some time.. nice night for it, don’cha think?” you can’t see them, but you can tell they’re smiling with the way you hear their words curl around the expression.

“i’m kind of busy.” you’re lying but your hairs suddenly standing on end, “oh? but your movies almost over.. isn’t it? so how about you play with me instead, doll?” the petname is a low growl, but your heart pounds at the words before it, sucking in an uneven breath as you let your gaze dart to the movie still playing on the tv then the rest of your darkened apartment.

“how.. how did you know i was watching a movie?” your heart pounds with your sentence and you swear they must be able to hear it when they breathe out a chuckle in response.

“don’t look so scared, babydoll. you just look like you could use a little.. company.”

the line dies before you have a chance to hang up, but with the few steady knocks on the door of your apartment that follow in the silence you feel a shock of something shoot down your spine, and you can feel the uneasy pants you’re taking against your palm when it slaps over your mouth to muffle your shriek.

but then the silence settles, again. besides the pounding of your heart and the ringing in your ears, it’s still quiet enough for you to be able to hear the lock click when it turns — making you push yourself up against the wall in the hallway as you try to steady your breathing, putting you out of sight from the doorway.

this can’t be happening.

it’s unnerving the steady, slow steps you hear sound around the corner behind you, the way they enter your apartment over the erratic beat of your heart, combat boots against the hard wood floor that feel like they kick your feet out from underneath you with each step.

you could probably make it to your bedroom if you ran fast, maybe the bathroom so you can find someone to call — you’re not supposed to call him while he’s at work. but you think this might be an exception when you hear the door slam loud enough for it to startle you, followed by another low chuckle.

your palm is pressed so tight against your mouth you can barely breathe, your lungs feel like they quake but you can’t risk him hearing you — finding you, as you try to inch yourself further away from the front of your apartment.

you don’t give it much more thought, you hear his steps fade into the kitchen and you decide to put the adrenaline coursing through you to good use — it’s all part of the game, his game. but you feel your head twitch in the general direction down the hallway before you’re off.

but it doesn’t take long for him to hear you, you’re running.. but he’s not, not yet atleast. but he knows where you are.

you’re listening over your shoulder, following it with a glance and you watch the way his taller, intimidating form rounds the corner and his shadow seems to be gaining on you alarmingly quick considering you got a head start. he lets you see the peak of the blade, then he sprints, and he’s faster than you — long legs taking long, purposeful strides towards you as he enters the long stretch of hallway.

your heart is throbbing, a lick of fear curling down your spine and you can’t afford to waste any breath with a scream — but you gasp despite the way your heart feels like it’s about to burst out of your chest.

the distance he’s closing is quickly filling your ears, you can feel the warm air rush over your too hot skin as you run and the floor slams under your shared footsteps.

your decision has to be quick, the bathroom or the bedroom and you allow yourself a few moments you don’t have to think it over — opting for the bedroom, the doors open and you don’t have the time to kill to turn the handle to the bathroom.

but he’s trained, reflexes honed, he’s a killer after all — he can see your movements before you even make them, he can pick up on your body language or follow the direction you even do much as glance in.

and he’s right behind you when you when you make your little decision, fingertips already outstretched to reach and curl into the skin around the back of your neck.

you twist to your right, nearly losing your footing as you go to dart into the bedroom and slam the door, and your trip catches him off guard, makes him spit out a curse, only for a second. but he’s faster — your attempts to lose him, to shove him away are all in vain when you hear the heavy thud of the door hit the boot suddenly logged in the doorway instead of click into place when you try to slam it closed.

you can’t run anymore, you’re frozen when he comes into view as it bounces back open and you feel like you can finally take him in.

you can’t see his face, it’s covered by a mask — one you’ve seen a lot recently, october and all. it’s the season for them. but he’s a daunting presence from where he looms in the doorway, a muscle tight black shirt and black jeans—one arm resting against the doorway above him, not that it stretches far given his height. while the other almost mockingly, playfully lets the knife sway by his side — like he’s swinging intertwined hands or a purse, but it’s anything but.

no, it’s much more dangerous than that, he’s dangerous.

“gotcha. you’re a slippery little thing, aren’t ya?” he drawls in a sweet tone that almost turns your stomach, you can’t see his expression from behind the ghostface mask—but you can hear that he’s smiling, like he’s toying with his prey.

“please don’t! m-my boyfriend will be home soon, he’ll.. shit—he’ll track you down if you hurt me.“ you sound pathetic, whimpering and pleading, but fuck—he loves you like this, it’s exhilarating letting the blade tap along his covered temple like he’s scratching an itch before he’s cutting you off with disorienting grab to your jaw.

“oh, what’s wrong, doll? scared?” he grits but he knows you won’t answer with his palm now resting along your mouth to squeeze at your cheeks. black kanji barely visible under the dimly lit room, sin and punishment.

you can feel tears in your eyes, maybe it’s the way his fingertips are digging into your cheeks or maybe it’s him, his daunting presence and the blade in his other hand, and you feel yourself sway when he makes you look up at him.

you try to shove him off, turn back to try and run again but you’re snagged in his web now when he yanks you back down to earth. he takes you down heavily until your chest is hitting the mattress and you feel his hand clamp around your waist — reaching up between your breasts to squeeze his hand around your throat and drag you back a few measly inches until you’re against his chest.

“too bad, you could’ve made it too. but i think it’s about time i take my prize.” he growls, giving you a shake as his palm presses hard against the middle of your throat, making your eyes flutter before they widen when you feel cold metal smooth along the curve of your waist, and you finally go limp.

“atta girl. see, you’re a sweet little thing, just need a little time.. right?” his hips rub up against your ass with his words, letting you feel the impressive strain of his hard cock through his jeans, but then you feel him pull off of you to let his hand mould to your trembling thigh instead.

his fingertips squeeze at the skin before he’s twisting you onto your back and standing between your legs — almost menacing from this angle, but he lets you breathe.

“but you’re mine now.. so where should i start, hm?” he spits, voice straining under the weight of his desire as he lets his blade trace up the skin his hand used to occupy — featherlight along your thigh before it’s tracing along the waistband of your sweats, and he pauses with his next growl.

he lets it trace along your skin, up your abdomen until you’re tensing under his touch — adrenaline still making you shake when he groans and just barely drags the blade higher. “here?” he hums as he lets it rest against your chest, his movements careful and steady before he’s bringing the cool metal back down to your waistband. “or here?”

you really were the perfect, helpless victim.

“p-please.. please.” your voice is tight with need, lifting your hips to try and rock against his before his large, free palm is pressing you back tight against the mattress — tall stature looming over you as he lets the blade trace up by your neck, and he groans in delight at the wild look in your eyes he’s meet with.

“there we go, babydoll. that’s more like it, let me hear you beg for it.” he goads loudly, amused but wrecked when he lets his fingers trace down to squeeze at your pussy through your sweats, chuckling at the mess and warmth he can already feel beneath the fabric.

“oh, you’re a twisted little thing, aren’t you?” and fuck—does hanma love it.

you nod quickly, panting out sweet like uh-huhs followed by whispered pleas, like you’re chanting mantra’s as you squeeze your legs around his middle. “fuck me.. please, i’ll be good.. i’ll be quiet. just please.” you sound so pretty, like the perfect prey he knew you’d be — and he can’t wait any longer.

“that’s it. good fucking girl.” he breathes through clenched teeth before you hear the knife clatter on the floor at the other side of the room. he’s much too preoccupied with tearing through the fabric of your sweats and panties, panting hard when he yanks them down just enough to hang around one ankle, before he leans back to rip his pants and belt open afterwards.

finally seeing his cock twitch with the first sting of sexual freedom makes you arch, yearning when you let your eyes sweep over the thick curve of him.

his chest is heaving with heavy breathes as he takes you in beneath him, letting his fingers swipe through your folds to tease the slick gathered between them before he’s sinking two into your cunt. grunting when he’s not met with much resistance, but you hiss at the stretch his thick fingers provide you with — feeling it burn and sizzle into something that burns along your body.

he sinks them into you a few more times after that, scissoring them until you’re a puddle of mewls and whines and you’re basically fucking begging him to just hurry up and fuck you when you send him a doe-eyed look, thighs twitching when he rubs a few sticky circles into your clit before pulling his fingers out of you with a growl.

his slender fingers in sin wrap around the base of his cock before he’s letting his head roll back with a few rough strokes of his palm, pinning your hand above your head when you reach for him as he leans over your figure to rub the blunt head along your slick folds.

you’re not sure if it was the adrenaline, the chase and the anticipation igniting your veins but you’re fucking soaked, feeling the first silky grind of his cock split through your folds before it’s catching on your clit, making you both gasp and moan at the wet tacky sound that follows. “fuck sake, doll.”

you feel his palm press back hard against your throat when your legs curl around his waist, pulling him close as he pushes you so deep against the mattress your back arches.

you can hear the way he’s panting even behind the mask, fingers twitching into your skin everytime he pulls himself deeper into the desperate hug of your pussy.

“fuckin’ knew you wanted it, a pretty little thing like you all alone on a scary night like tonight.” the way your nodding is instinctive, driven by the way your desperately rubbing your slick along his throbbing cock — greedily trying to force him closer through each growled ramble from his lips. before he finally parts your folds and sinks into your twitching cunt. “f-fucking asking for it, weren’t you?”

you’re barely prepped and so fucking tight hanma thinks he might pass out now that’s finally wrapped in you, his large palms dragging your hips down onto his cock as your body shakes — lips parting to moan as your fingers twist in the fabric of his black shirt.

“look at me. fuck, eyes on me, babydoll. that’s it.” his words are an order, natural dominance dripping from his tone as he pushes past the spots inside of you that make you twitch. his fingers twist along your jaw once more to keep your gaze on him, until his hips are pressed tight against your own with a shameless, ragged moan that makes your long lashes flutter and kiss along your cheeks.

the way he drags his cock out of you is slow, wet after he’s given you a few moments to get used to the thick spread of him, and the first draw back of his hips feels like it lasts forever until only the blunt head remains.

but then he gives your cheeks a playful tap before his hands are back squeezing at your hips again, and the slap of his hips back into you almost knocks all of the air from your lungs.

everything about this, him. the chase, the hunt, the way he looks over you has only drove to this point, added to the twisting pleasure you feel stir in your abdomen, you’re wound up so tight and you feel like you could already burst when he grinds his cock into you, you’re already so close.

but his pace doesn’t let up, he’s driving his hips into yours like an animal as he fucks you into the mattress — pressing his pelvis tight against your slick folds with every wet connection of his hips as he swirls his hips into yours. “already? yeah? feel so fuckin’ tight.. pussy’s real fucking greedy.”

you can barely breathe with how deep it feels like he reaches, and his quick, intense pace only seems to grow heavier — your body jolting as he digs his cock up into your pussy.

hanma can hear your need, your want for him in the way your moaning pretty with each sharp exhale as you head tilts back, his grip dragging you along the bed as he pushes himself even deeper into you. he’s pressing up against the swollen spots inside of you and when you feel his fingers come to squeeze along the sides of your throat once more, all you can do is take it as you lose yourself in the controlled anaphylaxis that makes your head spin with pleasure.

“shu-shuji! it feels so good.” you gasp, and the sweet sound of your slip up, the sound of his name makes him shudder against you and grunt before he’s rushing to pull the mask over his head, throwing it on the floor beneath you. “holy shit—i know, babydoll. don’t hold back on me now.”

you’re finally able to take in the way his hair is flat, framing his handsome, flushed features and the blown, amber in his gaze when he sends you a crooked grin followed by another low groan as he sucks his lower lip between his teeth.

hanma curls himself over you with the next tight squeeze of your cunt around him, before he’s pulling you in for a kiss, it’s needy and wild and so much of him that it makes your pussy throb when he sucks on your tongue. he’s been waiting to taste you all fucking night.

his thrusts begin to lose their pace as he presses deep into your body, stuttering just as he begins to lose himself in you. in the pleasure he’s earned, the pleasure he owns. “my babydoll. ran so hard for me, did so fuckin’ good.”

you feel hanma’s palm squeeze around your thigh before he’s hiking it higher around his hips and the new angle only fans the fire your orgasm sparks along your veins, feeling him pull away from your lips to mouth at your throat as he digs your orgasm out of you himself.

“fucking cum for me, doll.” he grits before your body seems to listen, your orgasm hitting you so hard and good that it almost hurts as your toes curl, fingers moving to claw along hanma’s shoulders as you cream around his cock.

but he doesn’t stop, not even when you’re panting and gasping with each shockwave of bliss below him — the vibration of his groans echoing somewhere deep in his chest as his cock throbs inside of your soaked cunt.

“pussy’s made to fuckin’ take me. mmm, shit.. yeah? my fuckin’ pussy.” his pace stutters at the milking compression of your walls, gritting his teeth before he curses and groans sharp. his amber gaze is narrowed between your bodies to watch your cream pool around the base of his cock, your walls throbbing with every unforgiving push of his hips before hes kissing you once more as he cums, just as he likes.

hanma cums thick and heavy inside of you when he feels your tongue push against his, swallowing both of your groans into the kiss as he pushes his load into your puffy cunt. he’s slurring curses against your lips as he almost pins you completely, continuing to fuck into your sensitive pussy until you’re both spent and he’s rolling off of you with a long sigh.

you let the silence settle as you both catch your breath, turning to meet his gaze from where he’s peeking at you underneath where his forearm rests over his eyes.

“shuji, you’re too fast! it’s no fair!” you start, and your usual tone of voice only seems to draw hanma in as he returns to his place leaning over you, pressing a gentle kiss against your pouty lips that’s a sharp contrast to how hard he’s just fucked you.

“that’s ‘cause im a killer, doll.” he hums before he’s playfully biting at your cheek, chuckling when you swat him back into his previous position on his back with another cute pout that makes him pull you against his chest anyway.

“i so wouldve got away too.” you try to reason but it only makes your boyfriend chuckle, amused as you brush the dual coloured hair away from his face when he looks at you — catching your hand with his own before he’s giving your fingers a short peck and resting them both against his chest.

“bullshit, they always kill the hottest ones first. you were never making it to the sequel.”

Caleb just wants you to use him!

To pretend that you're breaking in and finding him curled up in bed, and deciding that he's too pretty not to abuse. You put your hand around his throat, squeezing down hard until it feels like his eyes are going to pop out of his skull. While he’s heaving for air, you cut off a part of your shirt to bind around his mouth To keep him from screaming. (Though you both know he never, ever would. But perhaps he'd be moaning loud enough for the noise to be comparable.)

You've been waiting for something like this to happen, haven't you? You whore. You tell him as you climb on top of him, cutting away his clothes. Staring at the plethora of scars adorning his chest and arms, you laugh. And I haven't been the first one to get to you either, clearly. He's so hard already, bucking his hips up into the air, but you elect to ignore him entirely. You put the tip of your blade against the heart cut into the middle of his chest and trace it as he whimpers and whines. He can’t for a moment pretend that he’s not enjoying this, and you hadn’t expected him to.

you can see him squirm on the other side of the camera, the way he licks his lips and his eyes dart away from yours. you know there’s no doubt about it. you sigh loudly, in a way that he can certainly hear it through those ugly, cheap headphones of his. the corners of his mouth twitch but never form into a full smile.

"i'm sorry." he gasps out, one hand disappearing off camera surely to be stuffed down his pants. he's not sorry at all, and you both know it. caleb pulls up the edge of his sleeve with his other hand, just barely, to show the corner of a fresh cut. dried blood still clings to the edges. it’s only a flash before he’s hiding it again. the tease.

"i thought we agreed you wouldn't hurt yourself again? you promised me. what, are you such a whore that you can’t" he giggles breathily, and you're overwhelmed with the desire to punch him. but that would be doing him a favour.

"i- i know i promised! i know i did wrong and i'm a bad boy and i'm sorry-" he visibly swallows. "but you- you broke your promise as well, so it’s only fair- you'd finally come and meet me! and you didn't!! i waited here for hours, i bought a new knife for you to use, even!!" he whines out your name. you know what your promised, you know he’s right. but you knew being denied once would make him even needier, and it’s so adorable to see him falling apart in front of you like this. 

"i want... i didn't want to do it either, i don’t want to do it anymore if it’s not you...” he leans closer to the camera. “i want you to cut me open... you can- can carve into me whatever you want. i know you want to, so i don’t- i don’t get it! you're just teasing me! i need you, please..." you remain silent. his face flushes more and more by the second. you don’t budge. 

he starts to scratch at the side of his neck, for just a moment, before caleb stares straight at you, smiling and eyes a bit too wide. “and... and if you’re bored of me by now... if i’m that useless... you should just come over and kill me already.” you roll your eyes.