#ghostface rafe

Sometimes you wondered if he’d chosen you for that reason—if he saw the darkness in you and called it home. His perfect match. A killer’s dream girl.

The fear sat in your chest right beside the want and the ache.

The thought of ending things with JJ, of him digging into Rafe’s past out of spite made your stomach twist. What would he find if he looked too close? Would he question what you kept buried?

Summer tried to make you forget him but it didn’t. You dreamed of him too vividly—his voice a low drawl in your ear, saying your name like he’d been holding it back for years. The way his body moved with yours. The way he kissed you with a hunger that left you craving more.

And just when you thought you’d read him all wrong, he reminded you you hadn’t.

📱Rafe Cameron: i miss you

📱Rafe Cameron: tell me you miss me

📱Rafe Cameron: ive been thinking about you

You told yourself you were done with him. That whatever happened last year should stay buried. But that first frat party of the year—God, you should’ve known better.

He saw you the second you walked in, JJ’s arm looped tight around your waist like a warning to everyone else. Rafe didn’t move, didn’t speak—just watched you from across the room with that stare that always burned a little too long.

You told JJ you needed a minute and slipped away, heart pounding as you searched for Rafe.

But when you found him, his mouth was already on someone else’s.

Some faceless girl in a lace top, with her hands in his hair, and his body pressed close. You turned before he saw you watching, forcing your legs to move away even though you wanted to make a scene and let him know you were watching.

But why would JJ Maybank’s girl give a shit, right? He didn't belong to you. You made it outside before the tears did, and your phone buzzed.

📱Rafe Cameron: why'd you leave?

📱Your Name: you looked busy

📱Rafe Cameron: busy?? you're joking that meant nothing.

📱Your Name: doesn’t matter if it meant something Rafe. whatever this was it’s done.

Three dots appeared, then disappeared, popping up again before vanishing as tears pooled in your eyes, heels slapping against the pavement as you charged forward, going anywhere but back there. Three bubbles again, your breath held as they lingered a little longer this time.

📱Rafe Cameron: its not.

After that, you tried to avoid him but he made it impossible.

Watching you from across the quad. Standing by his car outside your building. Lingering after class just long enough to bump into you by accident—where you went he was.

At first it was unnerving—but soon it stopped feeling like fear. You’d be lying if you said a part of you didn’t like it. The attention. The quiet pull of knowing you were still the one he couldn’t stop orbiting.

Mid-October, you saw him in the library, half-hidden, a wall of books between you—that familiar prickle down your spine you always had.

“Gonna keep pretending you don’t see me?” His voice slid through the shelves, low and amused.

You smiled despite yourself, avoiding his gaze. “You following me, Cameron?”

“Never stopped,” he murmured. “You said you needed space. I gave you as much as I could.”

“I never said that,” you whispered, keeping your eyes on the books. “I said whatever was happening between us was done.”

He huffed a soft laugh that sounded nothing like amusement.

“And I told you—it’s not.” Your hand reached for a book, but his fingers caught yours first, pinning them in place. “Look at me.”

When your eyes met through the gap in the shelves, something in your chest gave. His thumb brushed your knuckles, slow and steady.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed.

“For what?” You murmured back, and just like he always did he softened at the sound of your voice and the weight of your gaze.

“Kissin’ that girl—”

“Beth,” you correct him quickly—just enough to let him know you’d looked into it yourself.

“Sure,” he mumbled, like it didn’t matter.

“It’s fine, Rafe. You can see people… You can do whatever you want. I mean, I have a boyfriend.”

He tilted his head, eyes dragging over your face like he was reading every lie. “That what you tell yourself to sleep at night?” He murmured. “Or is that what you tell him?”

The question didn’t just linger with you… It haunted you and stayed with you through your lectures, your sleepless nights, your quiet moments alone when your phone buzzed and your heart stuttered, getting caught, wishing it was him instead of JJ.

Then came the next frat party.

Then came the texts.

📱Rafe Cameron: you look so damn good

📱Rafe Cameron: upstairs now

Seven words. That’s all it took for the thin band of your restraint to snap.

You found him, and before you could breathe his mouth was on yours—hungry, reckless, the kind of kiss that burned through months of denial.

His hands gripped your hips like he was reclaiming you—dragging you up against him until the space between you vanished completely.

“Never make me wait that long again,” he rasped against your lips, each word rough and bitter.

“Rafe—”

His hand slid to your throat—not cruel, just firm—pulse pattering under his thumb.

“Tell me you missed me,” he breathed. “I need to hear you say it—”

“I missed you,” you whispered, voice breaking and hoarse. “I miss you.”

He exhaled sharply, forehead dropping to yours. “You drive me insane,” he muttered. “A year, baby. A fucking year.”

You swallowed, trying to find your voice. “It wasn’t supposed to be like that.”

He stilled, eyes narrowing just slightly. “No?”

“I just… I thought it was safer this way.”

“Safer?” He repeated, a whisper of a laugh under his breath.

You hesitated, unsure of how to approach this, not wanting to break the silence you swore to yourself you’d keep.

“I didn’t want anything to happen to you,” you mumble timidly.

His mouth twitched, brushing against your lips. “I don’t need anyone to keep me safe… You know that.”

“Rafe—”

“Safe from who?” He asked quietly. “Why?”

You hesitated, then sighed. “I was scared about JJ. I don’t know. I was worried about what he’d do if he ever found out about us.”

“Maybank,” he muttered his frat brother’s name, sounding foreign in his mouth. “You mean your casual boyfriend, JJ Maybank?” He let out a low, humorless laugh. “The fuck are you worried about him for?”

“I don't know,” you whisper.

You swallowed hard, unsure if he meant that night or something else entirely.

“You know… I don’t understand how anybody could be casual about you.” His voice hummed across your lips, using his hold to pull you closer. “I've never been subtle. JJ suggested it. He let me in the room that night. He knew how I felt about you. That’s on him,” he said softly. “Not me. And definitely not fucking you.”

“Okay…”

“That the only reason why you're worried, pretty? Just worried he’ll find out I never got over you? That I can't stop thinking about you? That it's gonna be you and me?”

Rafe pulled back enough just to look in your eyes—doll-like and wide—keeping his secret held close to your chest like a test you weren't willing to fail. He nodded, mouth curling just slightly—like claiming you was never in question; like he was proud.

He leaned in again, voice rough and tender. “Don’t make me wait like that again, baby. I’m not built for it.”

“I’m sorry—”

“You’re sorry? You’re cruel.” His grip softened on your throat as he corrected you, thumb tracing your lower lip.

The air between you tightened, humming with everything unsaid. Your chest rose against his, breath shallow, hearts thudding in the same rhythm.

“Something needs to change,” you whispered.

“Change?” He breathed, dipping in to kiss you softly. “Just tell me what you want, pretty girl. I’ll give you every goddamn thing.”

“I can’t keep doing this behind his back,” you murmured. “It’s wrong.”

Rafe nodded slowly, thumb tracing your jaw. “Then don’t. Let me take care of it.”

“Rafe—”

“I mean it,” he said, voice low, deliberate. “You won’t have to worry about Maybank. I’ll handle it. So I’m gonna ask you one more time—what do you want?”

“You.”

“Knew it,” he murmured. “Thought I was the only one losing my fuckin’ mind.”

AMC Theater | 7 days until Halloween…

JJ’s arm wraps snug around you as he slides the movie tickets into his back pocket, lips brushing your temple with a feather-light kiss.

“Maybank.”

That single word cuts through the noise—smooth, confident, unmistakably Rafe.

Your stomach sinks because like clockwork, across the street, in front of the bar, there he stands with a beer bottle in his hand and a joint between his lips; arm wrapped around a beautiful girl with her hand rested on his chest as she laughs at something Kelce says.

You want to hate her for being there, but here you are, those four little words from the night before vanishing into thin air because clearly nothing has changed.

Rafe sees you, you know he does. His eyes are unreadable; fake warmth softening his face, and if you didn’t know him better you’d think he was honestly happy to see his best friend and his girl…

Your chest tightens as JJ pulls you closer, greeting him, promising to catch up with Rafe and the boys later.

The two of you disappear into the blur of the theatre. JJ squeezes your hand, tugging you toward the concession stand. The theater buzzes; bodies pressed shoulder to shoulder as the crowd filters deeper inside.

You try to focus—to laugh at something JJ mutters but you can’t stop replaying the moment: Rafe’s face, the look that stabbed you right through the heart.

“Fuck!” You gasp as someone jumps out at you with a Ghostface mask pulled over his head.

“Jumpy tonight, huh?” He bullies. “Next week’s gonna be better than that. You excited?”

“Mhmm… Are you?” You ask.

“Free labor?” He snorts, like it’s ridiculous. “Nah. Just excited to scare the shit out of people at the Haunted House.” His hand snakes around your waist, pulling you a little closer. “You gonna come by while I’m workin’, pretty girl? Got you a week pass.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” you smile, lips wrapping around your straw, taking a sip.

“We’re all gonna be masked up. You gonna get all hot and bothered like you did last year?” He taunts, making your cheeks burn at the understatement of the century. “C’mon, sweetness. I know you love that shit.”

JJ tugs you along, the two of you shuffling down the steps, trying to find a pair of open seats. And as you do, someone jumps out again, making popcorn fly from the tub like confetti.

“Goddamn, you’re wound tight,” he laughs, brushing a stray popcorn kernel from your hair.

A pair of police officers greet everyone that passes through the door; half-assed pats at their pockets and a quick once-over to check if that prop dagger really pokes.

It's eerie. You weren’t here last year, but you remember the news coverage from where you sat safe and sound with JJ on the couch last year—the panic, the footage of police lights flashing against the theater’s glass doors, blood on the tile where people tripped trying to get out.

A man stabbed in the bathroom—a woman found in the back row before anyone realized the screams weren’t part of the movie.

You wrap your arm a little tighter around JJ’s arm out of instinct—the worry in your body language is crystal-clear enough for JJ to notice, pressing a gentle kiss against your temple.

‘Cause who says there won’t be a sequel?

The theater hums around you—laughter, whispers, the swell of the previews—but all you can hear is the thump of your own pulse. You shift, pretending to reach for popcorn, but really your fingers are searching for your phone.

Even through the panic, something in you still pulls back to Rafe. A missed Instagram notification from a few minutes before–Rafe Cameron.

Curiosity wins and you open it up, the brunette from earlier leans into him, her perfect body wrapped in a red and white nurse's costume. His hand rests on the latex painted over her hip as she presses a plastic thermometer to his lips.

📸 @/fratpotus001

💬 caption | the nurse says I’m hot. guess nothing’s changed.

Your heart aches; jealousy and anger bloom and blossom into something wicked.

The contact alone had you fuming—the shameless public display of affection—only touching, but still. Every time you’d gotten close, something interrupted: footsteps in the hallway, JJ calling, the world never quite letting you fall apart in peace. Maybe that’s what made this so much worse.

‘Something needs to change.’ You’d said it yourself and now he’s using it as a joke.

You scroll to your DM’s from earlier in the day, needing proof of the version of him that felt real.

📸 Your Name: help me pick one?

You sent him three pictures: a bunny, a devil, and a nurse. The same costume that girl had on, thrown back in your face like a cruel joke from the universe.

📸 Rafe Cameron: All three. Fuck baby I'm so lucky. You look stunning.

📸 Rafe Cameron: criminal to send me these in class now I'm just daydreaming about us fucking

📸 Your Name: Maybe I got one more I know you’ll love.

📸 Rafe Cameron: no fuckin way show me

📸 Your Name: Nope 🩷 You’ll have to wait

📸 Rafe Cameron: I'm on my knees

📸 Rafe Cameron: Cat?

📸 Rafe Cameron: witch?

📸 Rafe Cameron: Cheerleader?

📸 Your Name: Wouldn’t you like to know

📸 Rafe Cameron: obviously. Stop playin with me

📸 Rafe Cameron: Fuck you’re killing me.

📸 Your Name: well you told me I was cruel so

📸 Rafe Cameron: never beating those allegations. Send me a preview you love teasin me cmon

You pointed the camera low, lifting your cheer skirt just enough to tease your upper thigh and a little skin, a pair of white tube socks with pink accents, and matching pink heels.

📸 Rafe Cameron: Im so fucking obsessed with you

📸 Rafe Cameron: where are you? I'm coming and getting you

📸 Your Name: I'm at the mall with JJ he's just getting me a coffee

📸 Rafe Cameron: fuck that shit made me sick

📸 Your Name: I’m sorry

📸 Rafe Cameron: you’re good baby. just hold tight for me alright?

📸 Rafe Cameron: i’m fixing it

📸 Rafe Cameron: not letting another year pass by i’m getting whats mine

📸 Your Name: okay baby 💕

📸 Rafe Cameron: love when you call me that

You blink at the old timestamp—that frozen version of him that no one else sees, so sweet it hurts. Now he’s letting another girl touch him, laughing for the camera.

Your fingers move before you can think it through, backing out of the DMs to face the image again, hit with that same bitter taste in your mouth. Double-tap. No comment. One small red heart glaring back at you.

You counter his petty attack with something simple—something you know will sting. You lift your phone, framing the shot just right: your hand curled around JJ’s thick bicep, the corner of his smile and his dimple caught on camera; hair so perfectly mussed you know Rafe’ll only assume it from your fingers running through it. No text caption, just a black heart and a knife.

And, post.

Five, four, three, New Notification: Rafe Cameron…

It takes less than five seconds before Rafe likes it—too fast to be a coincidence—his thumb hovering, just waiting to remind you he’s still watching.

You look up at the screen as the lights fall low, your phone dimming with it. JJ softens in his seat, snuggling a little closer, fresh off a conversation with one of his frat brothers he didn’t see walking in.

You look down at your phone one last time, moving to your messages, pulling up the last conversation with Rafe. The text chain, previously paired down from private conversations the two of you had shared over the last couple of days to a simple request for you to tell JJ to call him back.

📱Rafe Cameron: 💬

Three dots pop up as you see him start to type.

Gone.

Three dots again.

Gone.

Your pulse stutters ‘cause he’s there. He’s saying something, thinking better of it, before he words whatever it is that’s meant for you.

You’re holding your breath when it stops for good.

JJ adjusts in his seat, tugging his phone out of his back pocket, looking down at the screen. “Cameron says they’re going to Cowboys. Wants us to swing by after. Sounds good?”

You nod, forcing a smile you don’t feel, because you can read the situation clearly. He’d started to text you, then he changed his mind. A finishing move for the moment.

You sink lower in your seat, feeling it all; jealousy, anger, regret, yearning, guilt.

“Everything okay?” JJ murmurs, lips brushing your ear as he leans in.

“Fine,” you say.

He presses a kiss against your cheek. This should be all you need, present in this moment with him, and still, you’d trade it all to know what Rafe almost said.

The title slashes red across the screen, Stab: Frat Row. The crowd whoops and whistles, a drunk roar coming from the seats.

On-screen, the camera glides down a street—their street. You’ve walked it a hundred times after midnight, heels catching on cracked sidewalks, laughter spilling from doorways. Then it zooms in on the Delta Sigma Phi house.

The boys’ house. The sight of it, close enough that it makes your stomach turn; the glowing Greek letters welcoming partygoers dressed in Halloween costumes as they stumbled in and out.

It’s uncanny. Like someone stole a slice of your memory. Your chest tightens, fingers curling around the armrest. You tell yourself it’s a movie, but the unease twists deep in your guts.

“Damn, that’s creepy as fuck,” JJ mutters through a mouth of popcorn, feeling it too.

On-screen, the shot drifts through the door—beer pong table, couples grinding, all of it too exact. The actress moves up the stairs, and your stomach knots.

She steps slowly, past couples and drunk frat brothers ‘til she’s alone, looking like a helpless bunny in her Playboy costume as she yells for Easton.

The door creaks. A dark figure flickers past the corner of the frame—she doesn’t see it, but you do, and your pulse spikes.

The music builds, growing more sinister by the second; but your eyes are pulled away from the screen. Movement… Something shifts in your periphery.

You look left—a man staggers into the aisle, shirt speckled red. He sways like he’s drunk, clutching the seatbacks for balance as he walks in front of the screen.

“Sit down, asshole!” Someone jeers, pelting him with popcorn.

“Move. You're blockin’ the screen!” Another heckles, kernels of popcorn bouncing off his weak body onto the floor.

But you can’t laugh. Because where his hand drags over the fabric, something darker trails after it. A slick shine under the light as he reveals more and more red.

Someone stands up, attempting to take care of it himself. But he turns, the bone-white mask and the glint of his dagger makes the blood drain from your face.

“Do it!” Someone hollers, drunk and sloppy as the figure lifts the knife to his throat, catching the boy by the shoulder, slicing the blade clean across his neck.

The sound’s a wet rip—the scream from his throat gurgles with blood as it sprays hot across the aisle. He collapses in a grotesque heap on the floor.

Everything catches up with you as your pulse spikes because the spray looks too heavy—the collapse too final. Laughter snaps off mid-note.

“We gotta get out of here,” you stammer as you push out of your seat as the man lies unmoving; blood spreads on the carpet as the ghost-faced monster breathes ragged above him.

A string of curses and disbelief precedes the screams that rip through the theater; hands shoving as people fight for the exit.

“JJ!” You shout as his fingers slip from yours, the avalanche of people pulling you with it, dragging you up the stairs, nearly losing your footing as bodies crush past.

“JJ!” You scream again, voice hoarse, but he’s already gone. The doors fling open and the crowd pours into the lobby. You’re hauled with the crowd, lungs locked, vision tunneling. You claw for your phone. It rings once—voicemail.

“Come on, Jayj,” you whimper, catching his voicemail again. You swallow the lump in your throat, struggling for a breath as you press your thumb down, calling for Rafe instead.

“The fuck do you want?” His voice cuts sharp and bitter through the speaker.

“Rafe—”

“You gonna bitch me out about, Grace? You see me with her and decide to finally make that change, princess? That it?”

“Rafe, please—”

“Unbelievable,” he spits. “That fucking Instagram post? Are you trying to kill me? Do I mean nothing to you? Did last night mean nothing? I'm only out with her ‘cause I’m embarrassed, alright? Pride’s gone. You happy?”

“Rafe!” Your scream crackles through the speaker, raw and desperate for him to listen.

He stops mid-rant; voice trailing off like he finally hears you. Like he really hears you.

The silence makes your blood run cold as the chaos surges around you. And for one breathless second you’re ridden with the thought—was it him? Was he under the mask, standing by that screen, and now he’s pretending.

You listen a little closer but it’s all there: the bar noise, the club music, laughter. The sirens scream on your end of the phone, making it next to impossible to hear.

“Hey—Hey, baby. You okay?” His voice changes. “—Where are you?”

“AMC,” you sob. “I can't—I can't find JJ. Everybody started running and I—I lost him.”

“Running?” He asks, and you can already hear in his voice that he's moving through a crowd of his own.

“Somebody died…” your voice squeaks out but he quickly pushes past that.

“And you’re alone?” His voice tightens and you can hear the disappointment and anger twisted into it.

“Yeah—”

“Maybank lost you? Left you?” His rage bursts through. “You fuckin’ kidding me?” You can hear the footsteps on the other end of the phone, Rafe’s feet pounding against the sidewalk; his breathing short and sharp. “Stay on the fucking phone with me. You hear me? Stay on. I'm almost there.”

The crowd thins, the night air hits your skin—and then he’s there. You turn around and he collides into you, his big body covering you from the commotion, arms holding you close.

“Rafe—” You whimper with tear-filled eyes as his lips claim yours. You gasp into your kiss; Rafe swallowing the sound as his lips tremble against yours.

He pulls back enough that his eyes scan your face, looking you over protectively as his hands hold your cheeks, bringing you in for another breathless kiss.

“M’sorry for talkin’ to you like that—I was angry. I wasn’t listening,” he mumbles gently between soft kisses.

“Baby!” You hear JJ holler for you—your body drifting away from Rafe’s as the ambulance shielding you pulls away.

“Don’t worry about me, okay? We’ll—We’ll figure it out,” Rafe mutters through gritted teeth, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Holy shit. Holy shit, baby,” JJ pants as he runs across the street. He pulls you in tight, a mirror image of Rafe’s reaction a moment before. And the contact makes you feel like you’re fighting air again, caught between the boy who should have you and the boy that does…

Both calling you baby.

He presses kisses to your forehead, taking a moment to calm down with you in his arms, whispering I’m sorrys between sharp breaths.

Rafe’s still there. His sharp jaw set hard, blue eyes burning hotter than you’ve ever seen before.

And in that moment, your worry shifts… Maybe it wasn’t JJ you had to worry about at all.

Maybe it was the boy who kissed you like a lover, and stared at him like prey.

🔪 part 2 👻

all you hear is silence so you shrug and convince yourself it was just your mind playing tricks on you, then the phone starts to ring again, thinking it was just your friend calling you back, and you pick up the phone. 

"hello?" you speak with your voice lowered.

"hey babyface" you stop moving when you hear a voice you don't recognize.

"who's calling?" you try to sound assertive but end up sounding like a scared puppy. 

"i've been uh- watching you for a long time, an' i figured i should introduce myself," he says, his voice all gravely. you grip on the handle of the phone and reach an arm over to close your curtains quickly.

"stop that! it's not funny, whoever this is leave me alone." you almost whine. 

"nah can't do that baby, you looked too pretty in that nightgown...you wearin' panties underneath?" he continues. 

"i'm gonna call my boyfriend an-and he'll find out who you are and beat you up!" you stutter.

"you're not gonna do that, cuz uh- i'm in the house, and if you hang up-"

"i'll call the police!" you cut him off.

"i need you to listen to me, if you don't wanna die, you need to walk down to the living room slowly- you try to run and i'll catch you. if you don't come down, i'll go up n'get you." he then hangs up, your chest heaving as tears start to form in your eyes, you think about climbing out the window but it is on the second floor and the man might catch you and kill you! you decide to grab a chair to put against the door to keep him coming in but it's too late, as you take one step backward trying to drag the chair you feel the blade of a knife press against your neck. you gasp, ready to scream.

"shshshsh, behave." the man shushes you, pressing himself behind you, god he must be tall. "told you to listen" he coos condescendingly. 

"please, please don't..." you sob. 

"hey, hey! shut up- listen to me alright?" he raises his voice causing you to shut your eyes and nod slowly in fear, tears spill down your face. "good girl. want you to lay down on your bed and stay there, don't move, scream, talk or do anything 'less i tell you." you nod again slowly and he removes the knife from your neck, you do as you are told and lay down on your bed, silently sobbing. 

you look at the man, face now lit up by the soft light of your nightstand lamp, you watch him come closer and wipe some of the sweat forming on his forehead under his messy hair with the back of his hand that's holding the knife. he grins, getting up on your bed and tossing the knife next to him as he pins you down. 

"r-rafe?..." you whisper, now realizing who it is.

"yeah! yeah baby it's me..." he continues to grin. 

"get off! please rafe, i don't wanna do this with you!" you whine and start to squirm a little bit.

"you don't really have a choice." he mumbles as he runs his rough hands up and down your thighs, stopping to grab the hem of your lace panties. "you wear this for me?" he says pulling them down as you really start to cry, trying to get him off of you by pushing at his shoulders but he's too strong.

"i have a- my boyfriend-" you start but then he looks back into your eyes and smiles again. "nah, you don't, i got rid of 'im... cut him up, he's in the trunk of my truck. wanna see?" he asks, his eyes following yours, bringing his hand up to wipe your tears away lovingly. 

"why!? why are you doing this!" you sob and try and move your face away from his touch. "i love you, i love you so much and you never talked to me or...looked at me and i need you to love me too…say it…" he demands. you shake your head no and try and push him off, pissed, rafe manhandles you. he flips you onto your stomach and lifts you up by your waist so your face is smushed against the messy sheets, ass in the air. "you fucking brat." he spits out.

he yanks your panties down and smacks your ass with his large hand, holding your wrists in the other. he forcefully spreads your legs and places a hard slap on your poor wet little cunt.

you let out a yelp as he "soothes" your throbbing pussy by rubbing your clit with the rough pads of three fingers. "are you a virgin princess?" he whispers, pressing a gross, sloppy kiss to your cheek. you whine out and try to move your face away. "what? you don't like my kisses?" he leans in again to give you a few more of those wet kisses, making taunting kissy sounds that make you scrunch up your face and mewl.

"gonna make you feel reeeally good baby, gonna make this little pussy cream all over me, yeah?" he rambles, grabbing the knife with his free hand, bringing it back to your neck. "please rafe, i've never- "

"you waited for me? huh? princess saved herself for me." you can hear his smile, he's almost relieved that he will be your first and last. he pulls himself out of his boxers and starts to line himself up. "i would'a stretched you out a bit first but this cunt is a dripping mess already so."

you scream as you feel his fat tip press against your entrance. "shhhhshh, s'just the tip." he murmurs, easing himself in slowly until he's stretching you as you've never felt, his tip kisses your cervix. "ow! it's too big, too much, too big..." you ramble, squeezing down on his cock unable to really move due to the knife.

"n'you are so tight, fuck, this is where you should'a always been..taking me like this babydoll." he grits through his teeth as he starts to thrust causing you to whine and to try and pull your hands away from his grip.

"keep cryin', it's only making me harder princess," he grunts, tears continue to stream down your face. he pounds into you now hard and fast, you wish you could grab onto his shoulders or hair as he starts to hit that sweet spot.

"stop it! rafeeee" you whine, he shushes you by tossing the knife on the bed again and covering your mouth with his hand as he continues his assault on your cunt. "i should cum in you, knock you up so you won't ever be able to leave me." he breathes out, he lets go of your face and wraps that hand around your neck to bring you up to kiss your neck. "no! no no please pull out! please rafe!" you cry.

he lets go of your neck and throws you back down you your face hits the mattress again, he lets go of your wrists so you are now gripping your sheets. "you know that's the knife i used to stab your boyfriend? he begged like a little bitch. he didn't deserve you." he reaches a hand around to grab your pussy and pull you closer to him, then rubbing your throbbing clit.

"m'na cummm" you mewl, body giving into how he's touching you so roughly yet gently.

"i know baby, give it to me, all over my cock c'mon" he encourages with that tone, and feeling him so deep in you and hitting that spot your body goes numb. shutting your eyes tightly as hot white explodes in you making you feel like you are on a roller-coaster.

he grips your waist and with the other hand, he's lovingly brushing back your messy baby hairs due to your sweaty forehead. "atta girl, thereee, see? i knew you could be good for me." he thrusts once more hard and deep, shooting his thick hot load all up in you causing you to whine at the feeling and making him groan.

he pulls out of you, sticking his two fingers into your pussy to push his cum back in, then leaning in to bite your ass. you let out a little scream, he flips you on your back and grabs the knife, gripping your thigh he brings the knife over to carve a little RC into the meat of your thigh. you try not to thrash around but you do let out another little scream at the pain.

"yer' all mine now kid." he smiles, exhaustion taking over as you let out shaky breaths and let him lean in to press icky kiss to your lips. ᥫ᭡

Everything about this Tuesday night would’ve been normal, if it wasn’t for the fact that it was Halloween.

On a weekday.

You loathed the idea, and after getting all of the partying out of your system over the weekend, dressing up and getting drunk again on a weekday just seemed like overkill.

…And yet here you are, sitting in your designated passenger seat in Rafe’s truck, your boyfriend behind the wheel and Topper sprawled out in the backseat.

You thought it quite eerie that Rafe wanted to dress up as Ghostface, knife and all, given it was the same mask the supposed serial killer was sporting.

But it seemed like everyone in Kildare found it amusing to wear the mask, hoping to scare their friends, or maybe fish for attention on social media.

Except for Topper, who had to go as a superhero instead, since Rafe didn’t want his best friend’s costume to match his girlfriend’s, too.

The white silk material stretched over your skin was just long enough to constitute as a dress. Rafe had used red paint to lay his own large handprints across your dress and skin, and even splattered and smeared some paint to look more like blood. Obviously, he was Ghostface and you were meant to be one of his victims. And Topper had decided to just reuse an old Spiderman costume.

The Thornton boy was sat in the middle,  legs spread wide as he enjoyed the entirety of the bench seat to himself.

“Man, I can’t wait for tonight. It’s gonna be fucking lit,”

You didn’t have to look back at Rafe’s friend as he spoke, as you had a perfect view of his face in the rearview mirror.

And you saw him sealing a joint with his saliva, smoothing it over with his fingers before he brought it to his lips.

“Y’know, I don’t even know why we’re going out when there’s a literal fucking psycho serial killer on the loose. Why can’t we just-,”

The smell of the weed hit your nose before the actual smoke made it to the front seat.

You fanned your hand in front of you face, immediately cutting yourself off with a scoff before darting a hand to the door, eager to roll down the window.

“Whatever, dude’s a fucking joke. He’s only killed two people and its alreadyHalloween. Takes 3 to be a serial killer. What a fucking loser- Y/N!” Topper scolded, his tone immediately catching the attention of Rafe, who narrowed his eyes in the rearview mirror as he waited for his friend to justify his tone with you.

Topper’s outburst also saved you from seeing the way Rafe’s skin pulled tightly over his knuckles, curling harder around the steering wheel.

“You can’t just break the hotbox before we even start smoking! I haven’t even taken a real hit yet!” Topper scolded.

You folded your arms across your chest, turning to raise an eyebrow at your boyfriend in response.

Topper mimicked your facial expression, also shifting so he was facing Rafe now, too, the both of you waiting idly to see who he would side with.

The kook’s eyes flitted between the two of you, his gaze finally settling on you before he cleared his throat to say, “Baby, come on, he just lit the joint.”

Your jaw dropped, brows knitting together in disbelief as the car continued down the road.

“Seriously, Rafe?!” You were sure you sounded extra bratty, and maybe you were for forcing the boys to lose half of their high to the wind right off the bat. Still, you continued anyway. “You know I don’t like the smell of that shit.”

Rafe rolled his eyes, sighing loudly to cue you in on his frustration. 

“You’re around it all the time! You literally smoke with me,” He countered, large fingers encompassing the panel on his door that controlled all of the windows.

And he wasn’t lying. You did smoke with him, you’d at least hit a joint once a day, because Rafe would always offer. More than that, he would insist.

But still, you prefered to smoke outside, in the open air, where circulation wasn’t an issue.

Your eyes jumped to the glass beside you as it began ascending back up, then back to the boy in the driver’s seat.

“Baby, calm down,” he criticized, “I wanna hit it a couple times at least without the fucking wind blowing everwyhere. You know it’s not the same, now,” 

He stopped, eyes narrowing at you when you crossed one leg over another, head shooting forward, like suddenly anything outside of the windshield was more interesting than this conversation.

Rafe responded by slapping a hand over your thigh, squeezing just enough to pull your attention and your eyes back to him.

“Don’t be a brat,” His words came out at the same time that Topper went into a coughing fit in the backseat, thick smoke billowing over the middle console and filling the truck. Your eyes dropped at the feel of something brushing against your arm, and you looked down to see Rafe’s other hand abdandoning the wheel to extend the joint your direction. He nudged your arm, encouraging you to take it from him.

“Rafe, I don’t wanna smoke right now.” Your protest had him curling his fingers further around your leg. It was a silent way of telling you he wasn’t asking, the motivation you needed to pinch the paper between your index and thumb, taking it into your posession.

You hesitated, taking a deep breath in and out again before bringing the joint to your lips.

You pulled the smoke into your mouth, something Rafe had taught you to do rather than totally inhaling it. The vapor whirled around your tongue, and you puffed your cheeks enough to push the smoke out between your puckered lips, before just as quickly drawling it back in with a sharp inhale.

“Show off,” Topper scoffed from the backseat and you laughed, already feeling less edgy after a single hit. Just the act of straining the smoke from a blunt could put you at ease, even if the environment wasn’t ideal.

And speaking of ideal environments, you really weren’t looking forward to the one you were currently headed to.

Olivia was a kook, and the current apple of Topper’s eye, so naturally, he forced his best friend to tag along to her Halloween party with him, which meant you would surely be coming, too. You knew Rafe wouldn’t want to go third wheel Topper without you, and he knew you also wouldn’t let him go without you, anyway.

He definitely wasn’t going to let you stay home, either.

Rafe absolutely hated the thought of his girl being alone anywhere, but especially at home, at night.

And with a crazy serial killer seemingly terrorizing the small town of Kildare as of late, the hatred for leaving you alone was amplified. He would hardly let you out of his sight, more than usual.

He drove you to and from your classes, work, and anywhere in between. He was constantly berating you with phone calls, texts, all endearing and pure-intentioned, but overwhelming, none the less.

Which is why you struggled to understand why he would want to go out on a Tuesday, especially when the other murders both took place on a weekday, too.

Nevertheless, the car eventually came to a stop outside of the mansion, and the three of you sauntered in, and you hoped you’d somehow be able to make the best of the night.

—

You’d already made two trips to the jungle juice cooler by the time Topper came barreling towards you and your boyfriend.

“Rafe!” He called to his friend, but both of your heads turned.

He stopped himself with a hand on Rafe’s shoulder before asking, “You got any blow? Kelce just ran out,” He jammed his thumb behind him, motioning to the sea of kooks that were now in need of a backup supply of cocaine.

“Uh…” Rafe only patted his pockets once or twice before baring the bad news.

“Nah man, nah I don’t,”

He was able to come up with a solution pretty quickly, though.

“I can run and grab some though, be back in like…” his words trailed off as he checked his watch, “20?”

Topper’s smile was back, big as ever as he nodded, patting Rafe on the back before turning to spread the word.

Normally, you would’ve rolled your eyes, scolded your boyfriend for messing with cocaine, let alone making a business out of it.

But as Rafe smiled at the back of his friend’s head while Topper whisked himself back into the drunken mob, you silently thanked the higher powers that be for the opportunity to break away from the crowded house.

Granted, a trip to Barry’s, where Rafe was undoubtedly headed wasn’t any betterpersay, but you hadn’t even wanted to go to the party in the first place. At least you had the option to go here.

Or so you thought.

Until you went to follow Rafe, and he turned to stop you when he felt your hand brush over his arm.

“Uh uh,” he had you by your arms, not in a tight grip, but strong enough to move your body around so you were no longer beside him, but behind him as he turned to face you, “You gotta stay here, baby. I’m not bringing you to the Cut. Not tonight.”

Even after three cups, you were more than coherent enough to know you didn’t want your boyfriend to leave your side.

Your lips parted, brows pulled together in a look of both confusion and frustration as you pulled his mask off, ignoring his surprised look and dishevelled hair as you scolded, “So you’re just gonna leave me here?!” You crossed one arm over one another in front of your chest.

Rafe tried to ignore the way the gesture pushed your tits up and together even more than the tight dress already did.

“With a fucking serial killer on the loose? Really?” You shook your head, throwing your arms down before attempting to storm past him while protesting, “No. No way, I’m not fucking staying here-!”

“Hey!” Rafe gained a stronger grip on your arm now, pulling you back and holding you to him with one hand. Your eyes darted from where he held you, up to his eyes, which were hard and serious.

“No one is gonna get you in here, baby, okay? Okay there’s, there’s too many people,” his fingers loosened, moving instead to smooth over your arm as his other hand followed suit. The gesture was meant to calm you down, a physical way of convincingyou to listen to him, in a way he could tell his words couldn’t.

“You’ll be fine, sweetheart. Just-just stay here with-with Top, yeah? Stay here with Top, I’m gonna run and I’ll be back real soon, alright?” 

You fixed a stern pout on your lips, and Rafe rolled his eyes at the sight.

“My costume doesn’t even make sense if you’re not with me.” Again, you folded your arms across your chest. Sometimes, the pout and folded arms combo was enough to make Rafe given into whatever you were asking for…

But not this time.

Rafe simply grabbed the mask from you, tucking it under his arm.

“Stay with Top, Y/N, okay?” Was all he said before he took you by your jaw, eagerly pulling you in for a sloppy, wet kiss. Your tongues swirled around each other before Rafe’s assumed dominance, as did his hands as they trailed down your body, stopping at the curve of your hips. One continued further, cupping your ass and giving it a harsh squeeze.

The makeout faded to simple pecks, and then one last one before Rafe was pulling away, only a string of saliva and his hands in yours left to connect the two of you.

“Hurry up.” You ordered as you pulled your bottom lip inbetween your teeth, and Rafe couldn’t resist giving you one last kiss before he pulled his mask back down, squeezing your hands before disappearing towards the door.

You sighed as you spun around, eyes scanning over the party before you let out a long sigh.

The sight of some random girls pouring shots in the corner reminded you of the flask you’d brought with you. You brandished the metal container from your purse, giving it a slight shake.

You figured the 40 proof tequila could do something to make that jungle juice more interesting.

—

Outside, Rafe was ripping his mask back off, making his way out to his truck.

He had the plastic machete in his grip, fists clenching as he neared the vehicle.

The door was flung open with his free hand, and he climbed inside, hands dropping the accessory and reaching for the glovebox before he even shut the door.

Rafe fished out a tiny plastic baggy, large fingers ripping it open and dumping the contents out onto the dash.

He manuevered the powder into a line as best he could with his index finger. The excess powder was wiped on his bottom gum line before rounding his back, plugging one side of his nose as he brought it down to the leather surface, inhaling sharply.

The cocaine burned his nostril as it traveled to his brain, which was riddled with thoughts that were anything but normal.

The boy wasn’t entirely sure how he’d ended up in this…predicament.

Truthfully, Rafe wouldn’t have left you at some party by yourself with the threat of a serial killer looming if he’d planned to go far. But Rafe’s car wouldn’t be leaving its spot, because he wasn’t going to the Cut.

And you didn’t need to worry about some deranged killer, because you were exempt from the list of possible targets…

Rafe had only planned to use the mask the first time to terrorize some pogues one night, solely as a joke.

But when one of them got too scared and swung on him, that’s all it took to flip his switch. He returned the punch the pogue had wagered ten-fold, and then some, laying into the poor boy until he had no strength to fight back, and his friends had long retreated. That’s when Rafe fished for his machete, teeth gritted, jaw clenched and muscles flexed as he brought the knife to the boy’s throat.

He didn’t even have the strength to whimper or beg for his life before the skin was so smoothly slit, leaving him to choke in a pool of his own blood for daring to charge at someone like Rafe.

And in that moment, as he watched the light slowly drain from the boy’s eyes below him, Rafe felt an overwhelming sense of power and authority that he’d never felt before.

He’d always had to fight for the upper hand with his dad, with his sisters, with Rose. But he’d just easily been able to claim it this way.

He felt as big and as powerful as a God, after all, he had just played one, taking the life of the innocent pogue boy.

The second kill was planned, but in Rafe’s defense, he’d never had a specific person in mind.

He just knew the craving for the power he’d wielded was too strong of an urge to deny, and he needed to find an outlet somehow.

And this pogue walked right into his trap. Rafe had tossed a hundred dollar bill down right outside of an alley he was hiding in. It was dark and late, so not many people were out.

Except for one unfortunate soul, who happened to be walking home from a closing shift when their luck turned around, the reflectors on the blue $100 bill catching their attention on their stroll.

They’d just picked it up, only had it in their possession for a few moments before being grabbed and dragged back into the alley, a knife to their throat forcing their hands to release the money.

And that was it.

Like the first time, Rafe hadn’t planned on killing anyone tonight. He wanted to enjoy his evening with you and his friends, hopefully get his mind off of the heinous acts he’d committed that were cirulating in the media.

But his mind just couldn’t stop jumping back to Topper’s blind criticism in the car, and the thought had boiled his anger over into the red zone, and his hands fishing in the middle console for his real knife.

“He’s only killed 2 people. Takes 3 to be a serial killer.”

And his friend was right.

Rafe wasn’t one yet.

But he would be after tonight.

—

Back at the party, your flask was no more, and your solo cup was empty for the 5th time now.

You weren’t sure how you were still willing yourself to stand around the pong table, watching as Topper and Kelce killed time waiting for their next fix, both boys constantly darting their eyes back and forth from the cups to the front door.

When the Thornton boy started re-racking the red cups for a fourth game in a row, you decided it was time to go explore the party on your own.

You weren’t entirely sure Rafe would approve, but you’d also downed one too many drinks to care.

Wandering off from the familiar kooks, you sifted your way through the house before your eyes fell on the stairs after some time, locking in on the tall, muscular looking Ghostface propped against the banister, waving you over with a single hand.

All of your facial features perked up in unison, a sensual smile tugging at your lips as your boyfriend invited you to follow him upstairs.

You didn’t have it in you to move with any type of determination, lazily staggering over to the staircase, clutching onto any piece of furniture or wall you could get your hands on on your way over.

When you finally reached your boyfriend, he stumbled back as you threw yourself into his arms, having consumed enough alcohol to bring out the more playful, flirty side of you.

“Babyy,” your words were slurred as you held onto his shirt and shoulder for support, “what took you so long?”

Your hand ventured out to rid him of his mask, but he made a quick point to hold it in place, keeping his face covered.

“Rafe, stop it, I wanna see youu,” you whined, pouting when he only responded by slapping your hand away lightly.

In your inebriated state, you didn’t realize that it hadn’t even been long enough for Rafe to return yet. You were just excited to see who you drunkenly assumed was your boyfriend, and even more excited to sneak away from the party with him for a little.

The figure held you close to them with a strong grip, and the way his bicep curled perfectly around your waist just reminded you so much of Rafe. His cologne even smelled similar, the wafts hitting your nose easily as your face was planted against his chest while he guided you up the stairs.

He took it slow, giving you time to drag your feet up each step. But once you reached the landing, you had to pick up your pace as to not fall over as he practically dragged you down the hall.

You couldn’t help but giggle at the enthusiasm he had to get you all alone.

And the first room he came across was sufficient apparently, because he was quickly pushing the door open and shoving you inside.

He must not have considered how drunk you were when he pushed you, the action causing you to trip over your feet, collasping in a heap to the carpet.

Your knees broke your fall, and when you tried to resituate yourself on your feet so you could reach his lips for a kiss, a strong hand on your shoulder grounded you to the floor. Now, you were on your knees, back to the door while he stood tall facing the entrance, shoulders rolled back as he wrestled to part his costume.

Your eyes trailed up the powerfully built man before you, stopping at his crotch at your eye level, then continuing up to reach the white mask.

Large hands fumbled with his belt in front of your face. For a split second, you wondered if you’d ever seen this one of his or not, but the thought was gone as quick as it came, and a wolfish grin spread across your face.

As much as you wanted him to take you right off the bat, you also loved getting him off, letting him use you for his own pleasure, and something about his costume had your stomach stirring.

Your hands slipped up under his costume, manicured nails trailing ever so slightly over his toned stomach, and you could feel him flinch slightly from the sensation.

You smirked up at him, eyes wide and wanting as you waited for the sound of his pants dropping to cue you to get to work.

Instead, the sound of the door creaking open registered too late in your brain. You didn’t even have time to jump to a more decent looking position before heavy footsteps filled your ears.

You flinched violently, cowering down and covering your head with your arms when the man in front of you was suddenly yanked forward, his figure dragged right over yours by the stranger.

“Hey!” You shouted, the liquid courage motivating you to stand up for your boyfriend. “Who the fuck do you think you’re-“

Your words died in your throat as you whirled around on your knees, coming face to face with another Ghostface.

You were sure you’d never screamed so loud in your life, albeit drowned out from the loud speakers blasting some EDM remix downstairs.

Your hands flew to cover your mouth when you saw the knife penetrating your boyfriends skin, blood immediately spilling out of the fresh wounds. Frantically, you crawled away on your knees, though most of your brain went into self preservation mode, convincing you that the scene before you couldn’t possibly be real.

But it was real enough to send Rafe plummeting to the ground as the masked intruder continued slashing into him, tearing through his muscles and organs.

You’d been in such an extreme state of shock and denial that your brain hadn’t even told your feet to move the entire time.

So when the monster that just murdered your boyfriend turned to set his sights on you, you were completely frozen in place.

He grabbed you by the hair, pulling you up and yanking you into him, the blood of your boyfriend coating your skin, and that’s when the first tears started to spill.

The grip he gained on you forced a startled scream from your lips, which was quickly muffled by a bloody hand.

You almost gagged at the smell and taste and iron seeping onto your tongue, eyes squeezed shut as you struggled against the stranger at your back.

You were clawing at his arm at this point, even trying to kick your feet back into his legs, anything to prompt him to let you go. To spare your life.

But your struggle came to an abrupt stop when you felt the cold, slick metal blade pressing into your throat.

You drew your shaky hands up immediately, body trembling as you feared meeting the same fate as your boyfriend at the hand’s of a masked stranger.

It was only a few moments after his hand released its hold on your lips that you inhaled sharply, drawing in another smell this time.

The signature Dior cologne was one you’d only ever known one person to wear. It was like a magnet, the smell could hit your nose and take you straight to your boyfriend.

And that’s when you realized that the cologne on man you wandered up here with, was slightly off, not quite the same trademark one your boyfriend loved.

You stumbled forward as the masked man’s grip on you relinquished, taking a moment to calm your senses before slowly turning to face him.

His head tilted eerily to the side as you reached out, trying to steady your arm as your fingers plucked at the plastic facade.

Your movements were careful and calculated, even as you began to lift the mask over the figure’s head.

The removal of the disguise revealed that the man who’d just taken a life, who’d just pressed a knife to your throat, wasn’t a stranger at all.

“R-Rafe?” Your brain struggled to comprehend how in the world your boyfriend could possibly be standing in front of you, alive and well, after you’d just watched someone pull him off of you and gut him like a fish.

“H-how…how are you-?”

“Shh, shh,” You only caught a quick glimpse of the smirk on his face before Rafe used one hand to tug the mask back down, the other pressing into your stomach, urging you to shuffle backwards.

You were so relieved to see that your boyfriend was alive that you didn’t even register the anger radiating off of him.

And his rage wasn’t only directed at the guy you were with.

Of course not, he was dead.

Instead, he focused his attention on you.

Your hands shot up to clasp over Rafe’s wrist as rough fingers enveloped your throat, halting the cycling of air to your lungs.

He looked…scary. Even with the mask and the dark cloak-like clothing he wore, you could still see his shoulders looking twice as broad, chest puffed out, muscles undoubtedly flexed hard underneath the costume.

It was difficult to make out the blood on his black clothes, but you didn’t miss the splatters of it on the white mask.

The way his knuckles stretched hard over the knife in his hand, clutching it like a lifeline, should’ve been enough to scare you.

Actually, the fact that you were only steps away from a dead body, the result of your boyfriend, should’ve been enough.

The same man who brought you feelings of comfort, safety, had just been revealed to be everything he always vowed to protect you from.

You should’ve been terrified. You should’ve been scrambling to the door, making a run for the hills for fear of losing your life.

But as your eyes raked over the man before you, the feeling of fear struggled to override the feeling of lust brewing inside of you.

Of course, you were sure you’d make your disapproval known later about Rafe lying to you, pranking you, being a literal serial killer behind your back.

But right now, something about your boyfriend being so enamored with you, so vigilant and protective over you that he would literally kill for you, risk his life, his freedom for you, had your stomach in knots.

Rafe studied your face, his breathing heavy as he watched your expression gradually morph from one of apprehension and dismay, to one of…sensuality? Surely, he couldn’t be reading you right.

His head tilted to the side in a menacing manner as he asked, “You’re not scared?”

You hesitated, but shook your head.

You weren’t scared of Rafe. In fact, you were turned on. You pressed your legs together, desperate to alleviate the empty feeling down there.

You couldn’t see it, but Rafe’s gaze fell down to your lap, taking note of the way you clamped your thighs shut.

He raised an eyebrow, though the gesture was hidden from you, too.

He rolled his head around his shoulders, stretching it out before a low chuckle left his lips.

“Well you should be.”

All at once, Rafe’s fingers wound tightly in your hair, using the tight grip to shove you into the wall.

You pressed your hands flat out on the surface you were forced up against, mouth dropping as your breath hitched in your throat.

Rafe’s lips immediately latched onto your neck, teeth grazing your skin as he hungrily sucked and nipped at the sensitive flesh, desperate to mark you as his.

He only stopped to pull you into him slightly so he could give the neckline of your dress a harsh tug. The gesture freed your tits, soft and supple as Rafe fondled them from behind with both hands, pulling and tweaking at your nipples.

Once the sensitive buds had hardened under his touch, Rafe shoved you forward into the wall again, the cold sensation on your chest sending chills down your spine.

You’d yet to try to make any noise since Rafe introduced you to the wall, until you found him forcing your legs apart with his knee, his hand swiftly and suddenly snaking between your thighs, fingers trailing up the warm skin.

His digits prodded at your thong, the only thing you bothered to wear under the skimpy dress.

You couldn’t help the pained moan that escaped your lips as Rafe tugged the thin material to the side, giving him the opportunity to plunge three thick digits deep inside of you.

Any other time, he would’ve started with just one or two fingers, giving you time to open up and adjust to him.

But Rafe was far past being gentle with you, or with anyone, clearly…

The fact that you’d drunkenly mistaken some knockoff Ghostface for him, both amused and angered the oldest Cameron.

“Rafe!” You cried out, nails scraping at the wall you were held against. “I-I…it hurts,”

“Well that’s too fucking bad, hmm Y/N?” His voice was taunting as he curled the digits up into you, roughly massaging your g-spot skillfully with the pads of his fingers.

You were relieved only for a moment when Rafe eventually withdrew his hands from your body, using them instead to wrestle with his pants underneath his costume.

He gained a harsh grip on your throat, squeezing mercilessly and easing your head back onto his chest. “You don’t call me Rafe tonight,” he brushed some hair out of your face with his other hand as you heard his pants sink to the floor, “it’s Ghostface, sweetheart.”

There was no time to react or respond before Rafe lined himself up with your dripping entrance, sheathing himself between your slick folds in one sharp, agonizing thrust.

With Rafe pressing one side of your face against the wall, the other hand wound tightly in your hair, your cries and pleads were muffled.

The pleasure you felt from the way Rafe’s cock cunningly stroked your walls, the way this possessive and hostile side had came out, your brain never stood a chance.

It was immediately short-circuting at the overstimulation you were feeling, from the harsh hold on your hair, the relentless, deep thrusts to your core, the burning in your stomach from the alcohol to the mixture of smells that permeated the room now.

You struggled to hold yourself up, legs shaking violently as your boyfriend continued rutting into you to no avail.

Everything was overwhelming you, and it was all enough to have you forgetting how you even got to this strange room in the first place, and what happened to the boy that had lead you up here.

But Rafe wouldn’t let you forget.

He used the grip on your hair to yank your head to the side, forcing your gaze to fall on the body of the boy you’d mistaken for him earlier.

“Look at him,” he ordered, fingers scratching at your scalp as he tightened his grip.

“You won’t ever confuse me for somebody else again after this, right?”

You only cried out in response, tears spilling down your face as you shook your head vigorously.

“N-no! No, Rafe, I won’t do it again!”

Your cries were muffled when Rafe yanked your head around the other way, this time to crane your neck back towards him instead.

“What was that?” He sneered down at you.

“No Ghostface, I won’t do it again, I p-promise!”

He released his hold in satisfaction, attention shifting back to the place where your two bodies connected, jaw falling slack at the sight of him rutting into you, hips snapping against yours in a harsh and hungry manner.

His nails dug into curve of your hips, hands helping to arch your back off of the wall, allowing him extra space to drive into the mess he’d made of your core.

“Fuck, baby…” The desperation and breathlessness behind his tone had your clenching around him, and you cried out at a particularly rough thrust against your cervix.

“Ra-,” you corrected your own near-mistake, “Ghostface, please I-I can’t-!”

“Shut up,” Rafe seethed in your ear, pressing his body harder against yours and forcing you impossibly further into the wall.

“I don’t wanna hear you talk,” he groaned out, tossing his head back in pleasure at the feel of your soaked walls sucking him in blissfully. “Just need you to fucking take this cock, yeah? The right one, this time.”

But you couldn’t help but let out another high-pitched mewl at the brutal pace Rafe was subjecting you to.

And your cries only upset him further. You shouldn’t be the one crying, he thought. He rolled his tongue on the inside of his cheek just thinking about it.

He was the one who’d walked in on his girlfriend about to go down on some random fucking kook.

The idea only further fueled his anger.

Which in turn fueled his movements, thrusts somehow becoming more aggressive as he reached behind him.

Your body jolted forward when the cold blade was pressed against your neck again, careful though as to not nick your skin. Your gasp mixed with the sounds of skin slapping together.

“Didn’t I just tell you to be quiet?”

Rafe didn’t miss the way your walls pulsated around him once, twice, too many timesto count.

A look of amusement washed over his concealed face as he realized he’d held a knifeto your throat, and you…liked it.

The comprehension opened a new door of interest for the oldest Cameron.

As a test, he pressed the blade slightly harder into your skin, and a low groan escaped his parted lips when you mewled out, again, clenching around his shaft.

“Fuck baby…” he leaned in closer, wet lips brushing against your ear. “Don’t tell me you like that?” He spoke, though that’s exactly what he hoped she would confirm.

“I-I,” you struggled to find words to express the pure euphoria you were feeling. 

“You like my knife, baby?”

“Y-yes Ghostface,”

“Yeah?” He rasped, this time trailing the tip of the blade cautiously down between your tits, skimming over your stomach and stopping just before it met the place where your bodies joined.

“You like that?” He confirmed, eyes admiring the trail of crimson that now lined your supple skin.

He swore he could almost feel his dick growing impossibly harder, stomach tightening as he upped his stamina.

His eyes fell shut, head falling back between his shoulders as he grunted out loudly, “Say my name, Y/N…”

“Ghostface!” You practically screamed out the name as his thrusts picked up.

Your obdience and compliance with his request sent him over the edge, hands gripping you tight as he shot hot, sticky loads deep up into you.

Your pussy clenched tightly around him, pulsating as you also found your release, stars clouding your vision as your ears rang incessantly.

You could feel Rafe’s thrusts growing sloppier, stamina dying down as he began slowing the movement of his hips, eventually coming to a complete stop inside of you.

When Rafe drew his hips back, his cock unsheathed itself with a pop, and your legs were so weak, you were sure you would’ve collasped right on the spot if it wasn’t for Rafe’s hold on you.

He kept your pressed against the wall for a moment, allowing the full weight of his body to press into yours as he struggled to catch his breath, breathing and grunting heavily in your ear.

He’d already exerted a good amount of energy stabbing someone, and then to fuck you so passionately and viciously, forced him to summon even more.

You were a sobbing, dishevelled mess when you were finally able to draw in a sufficient breath, Rafe finally pushing himself off of the wall and allowing you to do the same.

There was a tension in the air now as Rafe pulled his pants back up, concealing the knife in the waistband before securing his belt again.

You stood frozen the whole time, trying to both regain your senses that had been clouded with lost, and wrap your head around the fact that you’d just let your boyfriend fuck you with a dead body only mere feet away.

You frowned slightly at the thought of the strangers blood being on your hands, metaphorically.

Rafe quickly caught onto your lack of care for redressing yourself, icy blue eyes tracking your line of sight to the pools of blood on the carpet, and the imitation of him laying lifeless in it.

He sighed loudly, hands reaching out for you and pulling the top of your dress back up over your tits, then stretching the bottom back down over your ass.

“Don’t feel sorry for him, Y/N,” he started, hands reaching up to smooth over and fix your disorderly hair.

“He knew what he was doing.”

And it was true.

Everyone knew you belonged to Rafe. There was no one, especially on this side of the island, that hasn’t heard of or seen the two of you around. You were the ‘it couple’ in the kook kingdom, and you surmised that Rafe was right, the boy probably knew what he was doing when he lured you upstairs in your drunken state.

He just didn’t know it would be the worst mistake he could make for himself, the last thing he would ever do.

“Now you know the lengths I would go to to protect you.”

His lips on your forehead surprised you, and you looked up at your boyfriend with tears still in your eyes.

Rafe took your face in his hands, pulling you closer and planting a haphazard kiss to your plump lips.

“And Topper’s lucky he’s my fucking friend, or I’d kill him next for letting you out of his sight.”

a/n — ok its bugging me I FORGOT TO WRITE A WHOLE SCENE OMG…….

You stomp on the brakes—your car screeches to a halt in your driveway. You yank the keys out of the ignition and scramble to get out as a car turns onto your road, tires squealing as it picks up speed and catches you in its headlights.

Your heels pound up the old wooden stairs, fighting with your house keys as the car hooks into your driveway—the lights cut off with a suffocating black as the engine stops and the car doors open, but so does the front door.

You throw it open and slam it shut, forcing the lock, and CRASH! Glass shatters through the door window; a big gloved hand fighting for the lock you just set.

Your heart drops as you look ahead—the unlocked door in the back creeps open, another Ghostfaced figure stepping through as you tear toward the steps.

Before you can act his hand snags the delicate wing strapped to your shoulder, yanking hard enough that one side snaps clean off. The elastic bites your skin as you twist, breaking free, the sound of fabric tearing lost under your scream.

You clear a few steps before a gloved hand clamps around your ankle, pulling you back as you shriek. You fall with a violent thud, fighting back—your heel drives square into his chest, snapping the spike. He tumbles down the short flight before catching his footing, just as the other monster steps through the door he forced open, boots crunching broken glass.

You cross the hall, hurling yourself into your bedroom, flinging the door shut, twisting the lock, collapsing against it as your chest heaves.

The knob rattles a second later, battering so hard it shakes against the frame. “Stop. Stop. Stop—” You choke out through sobs with your knees drawn to your chest and your hands pressed against your ears but it’s too impossibly loud.

Then silence. Dead silence.

You press your ear to the wood to listen… The same crunch of glass below heavy feet. The same thud of a heavy wooden door then— “Baby?” JJ hollers through the hush, horror raw in his voice. “Where are you? Are you okay?”

JJ…

Your throat tears with his name, but the sound is drowned by another as heavy boots hammer back down the stairs, punching straight through the floor.

“JJ, run!” You scream, voice cracking as you hear the contact. Bodies slam, thuds reverberating up through the floorboards. JJ’s voice booms—then cuts off in a violent crash. Wood splinters, glass shatters; pure rage follows, and then another crash—something heavy topples, landing with the same hollow thud as Kelce’s body.

Everything stills for a second—no footsteps, no breath, just the memory of that sound pulsing through the house.

You tell yourself it isn’t the same sound, that it can’t be—but your body already knows better.

It’s quiet. So hushed you can hear the wind at your window—so silent you can’t tell if they’re gone or waiting.

“Baby…” JJ’s voice murmurs from underneath the door. “It’s me. Let me in.”

You fumble to your feet, unlock the door—JJ bursts through, chest heaving, blood splattered across what’s left of his Halloween costume.

“Jesus Christ—” His voice cracks, thick with panic as he takes you into his arms. “Baby, I knew—I knew something was goin’ on, I fucking knew it,” he pants, his eyes raking over your body, widening when he sees the deep gashes and blood.

“You’re hurt. We gotta get outta here,” he whispers as he cups your face between his big hands, thumbs brushing at tears that won’t stop spilling.

“I—I—” You stammer, lungs burning as you fight for air.

“Shhh.” His breathing stutters, forehead resting against yours. “Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay. Look at me. You’re alright. I’ve got you.” His hands stroke your jaw in gentle sweeps, trying to ground you. “I killed him. You hear me? He can’t hurt you anymore. You’re safe, okay.”

Killed who?

The thought stabs like a blade.

Your eyes widen, washed in tears. They drip off your lashes as you glance toward the door—toward the dead silence he promised on the other side.

“Really?” The word whimpers out of you after everything—after the very terror that might’ve been Rafe Cameron. He could be the one sprawled in the glass, motionless and gone. The thought shatters your heart. “Who was it?” you whisper.

His hands on your face guide your gaze back to his. JJ leans close enough that you feel his nose press against your cheek—his lips brushing your skin.

“Who?” He asks, voice scraped raw.

Your silence answers for you.

“M’done being lied to.”

“What—”

“I’M FUCKING DONE!” He screams so close to your face it makes you cower. You flinch, but his grip only tightens, nails carving into your cheeks. “You think you can play me? Me?” He snarls. The words spit hot across your face. “Think you can just lie and get away with it!”

“I’m sorry,” you choke.

“FUCK YOU!” He shoves you to the floor.

Your head thuds against the hardwood as JJ’s weight pins you down. His hands press your shoulders into the floor, dragging up to your throat until his thumbs dig in.

“You think I didn’t know?” His spit hits your cheek as he snarls. “Think I’m fuckin’ stupid? You and him—all those nights sneakin’ around like I wouldn’t figure it out?”

“JJ—” Your voice breaks, choking.

“Don’t you dare say my fuckin’ name like that,” he slurs, hurt clinging to every word. “He touched you. He fucked you. He stole you from me—and that’s why you look at me like this. That’s why you flinch when I touch you, fuckin’ bitch.”

His forehead presses to your temple, teeth clenched. “You think I’d let you fuckin’ humiliate me?” His grip pulses—tight, loose, tight again—like he can’t decide whether to crush you or keep you.

His tongue drags a wet stripe up your cheek, licking the tears and blood staining your face; catching a fresh gash, making you whimper, a pathetic sound.

“See—that’s real blood, baby. Hope it fuckin’ hurts. Hope that shit stings. Ain’t the fake shit smeared all over your tits in the back of that motherfucker’s truck, huh? That goddamn guilt trip? I know. I fuckin’ know everything.”

Your pulse thunders against his grip, lashes fluttering.

“JJ, please—”

“How could you do this to me?” His voice cracks, sharp and broken. “How could you do this to us? It’s not your fault—doesn’t mean I don’t hate you for it right now.”

Your legs kick against the floor, heels scraping, vision swimming. But just before your lungs give out—

The door bursts open, banging against the wall.

“Maybank, what the fuck?”

The Ghostface mask lifts—Rafe’s face stares back, wide blue eyes, chest heaving beneath the cloak. His gaze cuts from JJ to you, then back again.

“I thought we were gonna kill her together.”

JJ laughs—high and broken. “Nah, man. You think I’d let you kill her? I got this. She’s mine. Always been mine.”

“The fuck she is.” Rafe shoves him off, the two of them crashing to the floor beside you.

They collide—fists, elbows, bone. Fabric tears, blood flies. You see the flash of a knife in Rafe’s fist just before it slices at JJ, splitting his shirt clean open. You stumble back against the wall, trembling as they brawl.

JJ grabs for its handle—the knife rips loose and skitters across the floor, lodging between the boards, out of reach.

Both of them are breathing hard—shoulders heaving, blood slicking their skin in blotches and smears. A beat passes—just enough breath to taste the violence between them.

Rafe wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. JJ’s chest rises in staggered, broken pulls.

“I know, Cameron!” JJ roars. “You’ve been fuckin’ her. Thought you were slick? Thought I wouldn’t find out?”

“You think I give a shit,” Rafe grunts.

“I know you do! You stole her from me—manipulated her,” JJ spits. “You’re so selfish. She was quiet, Rafe. Did you really think she was gonna rat you out, you fucking pussy—”

“Pussy?” Rafe scoffs.

“She doesn’t know!” JJ blurts. “She doesn’t know you wanted to kill her. It was Rafe’s idea! I just had to get him here, rough you up a little, scare him, make him confess—show her what a piece of shit he is. You’d be mine again. You’d beg me to kill him.” His breath shudders. “That’s all I wanted. Us. Back like before.”

“The two of you? Are you insane?” Rafe spits blood while he laughs.

“Yes. Us. Her and me. She passed the test.” JJ’s eyes flick to you—soft, ruined devotion. “Last year on the roof. She saw you leave the house after you killed Kara—knife in your hand, those stupid loafers, your fucking getaway car. She just stood there and watched. Didn’t tell me. Didn’t tell anybody.”

A tear streaks hot down his cheek.

“She’s different—dark like me,” he whispers. “Fucking perfect—made for me.” His voice cracks. “Me. Not you, Cameron. And now you’re trying to take her from me?”

Rafe laughs, low and ruined. “Take her away? She stayed quiet because she’d already picked me. Shit didn’t have anything to do with you.”

“You’re wrong—”

“And you’re a dumb fuck, Maybank.” Rafe’s voice drops, low and mean. “I was never gonna kill her. That’s my baby. I just needed you here. Scene of the crime. Kill you myself.”

“BULLSHIT! You told me she was the liability! You said she was the one thing tying us to all of it! You said she’d break! YOU SAID SHE HAD TO GO!”

“Yeah… and you were stupid enough to believe me. Now what?”

JJ lunges, his fist cracking against Rafe’s jaw.

“You’re lying!” JJ snarls, dragging Rafe by the hair.

“M’not.” Rafe breathes hard. “Your time’s up. Cops’ll believe I acted in self-defense. Tell ’em you found out about us and came for me. I kill you, I’m the hero. She’s the final girl. We win.”

“Like they’d believe that—”

“They would,” Rafe sneers. “Tell ’em you and Top followed us home when we left to fuck, ‘cause even though I love fuckin’ her in my truck—nothin’ beats a bed, does it?”

“FUCK YOU!” JJ screams, both hands twisting around Rafe’s throat.

Rafe wheezes, blood bubbling at his lip. “She already knows she’s mine—said that shit herself.” Even with his life on the line, he smirks.

“I’m gonna carve that fuckin’ smirk off your face, Rafe.”

“She doesn’t love you. Hasn’t since she kissed me, and you fuckin’ know it.”

JJ goes still. The color drains from his face. Because he knows.

It doesn’t matter what Rafe did.

It doesn’t matter what JJ tried to prove.

You chose Rafe.

And that knowledge rots him from the inside out.

JJ turns toward you. “Tell me he’s lying,” he forces out, pushing off the floor, stepping toward you.

“I’m sorry,” you whimper, pressing back against the wall, nowhere to go.

You know it now—you didn’t just let this happen. You chose this. You chose Rafe.

“I showed you who he was, I was gonna kill him for you—for us.” His voice breaks. “He was gonna kill you. He’s lying. Tell me you love me. Tell me you still want me—TELL ME!”

He closes the space—heat, sweat, blood, panic.

You meet his eyes.

“I don’t love you.”

His lips twitch. His cheeks flush hot with rage.

A hoarse, heartbroken laugh rips out of him. A ruined smile stretches across his mouth.

“Then I’m gonna gut him,” he whispers. “Make you watch. And when he’s choking on his own blood, I’m gonna kill you too.”

A red light flickers.

You catch it in the dark—Rafe behind JJ, phone raised, recording, ending it the moment the camera catches JJ’s face in the frame. Rafe slips the phone into his pocket, biting back a smile.

“Lookin’ pretty guilty, Maybank—”

“You motherfucker,” JJ growls, and charges. You move before you can think, ripping the knife from the floorboards. JJ turns halfway at the sound and— “Shit,” he gasps as the tip of the blade meets the soft skin of his stomach.

His hands lift on instinct, trembling as Rafe closes in on him too—near enough he could shove him into the knife and end it right there. The thought crosses his mind; you see it, clear as day, as he wipes the self-satisfied smile off his lips with the back of his gloved hand.

“Baby,” JJ whispers through his teeth clenching with fear. “Don’t do anything you’ll regret.”

“I’m not,” you say calmly.

“You don’t wanna do this,” he whispers.

“You’re right,” you whisper, adjusting the knife in your hand just enough to make him wince. “Don’t give me a reason to.” He bites his lip and nods, the tears of betrayal gathered in his eyes finally slipping down his cheeks. “Who did you kill?”

“We,” he mutters, like it matters. “He’s not innocent.”

“No shit,” Rafe taunts, making JJ suck his teeth in annoyance.

“Top.”

“Is he guilty?” You ask curiously.

“‘Bout as guilty as us.”

“And Kelce?”

JJ looks down at the knife at his belly, only seconds away from the same fate if he doesn’t answer how you like. “He had no idea.”

You nod slowly. “You’re gonna walk out of here right now.”

“What?” He blurts, just as Rafe does the same.

“Leave the knife with Topper; go back to Blood Moon. Don’t say a word. Understand?” JJ freezes, so you press the blade harder, reminding him who’s in charge. “Speak.”

He clears his throat, his eyes flicking just slightly as he hears Rafe shift behind him.

“Answer my girl’s question, Maybank.”

JJ swallows hard, choking back all the things he’d love to say to Rafe in that moment.

“Yes, ma’am.”

You lean close enough for him to feel your breath, making his catch in his throat. “If you tell the cops about Rafe—if you even breathe my name—I’ll call them myself. I’ll tell them everything.” You twist the knife just enough to make him cry behind his gritted teeth.

“I—I love you,” he whispers.

“You tried to kill me.”

“Sorry ‘bout that.”

“Leave. And shut the fucking door.”

JJ hesitates, blood running down his side. Then he shoulders past Rafe, smearing crimson across his white shirt. The two lock eyes—blue and burning.

A silent promise… this isn’t over.

The door slams and the frame rattles—everything around you and Rafe falling to a hush, just the sound of JJ’s feet behind the door as they thump away.

Blood runs in a slow line down his jaw, catching on the corner of his mouth. He doesn’t wipe it. He doesn’t even seem to notice. He’s just looking at you like the world stilled enough for him to think—long enough for him to understand something he had always known to be true was so, so much better than he imagined.

His chest rises and falls.

Silence thickens between you, thumping like a heartbeat.

His eyes drag over you—your trembling hands, the smear of blood at your throat where JJ’s thumb pressed, the torn lace hanging off your hips, the wild shake of your breath—and something inside him breaks open.

“Jesus Christ,” he whispers as he steps toward you.

The space hums—sweat, copper, and the faint bite of his cologne. His hand lifts, slow and cautious, like he’s testing if you’ll flinch.

“You,” he breathes, voice rough as gravel as his hand cups your cheek. His forehead touches yours, nose brushing tenderly. “You stayed,” he whispers. “You picked me.”

Rafe’s gaze drops to your lips, your bruised throat, back to your eyes.

“You really are my girl, aren’t you?”

He exhales as you nod, tugging you forward until your bodies meet.

“That’s all I needed to know,” he whispers against your lips. His thumb traces your jaw before he guides you in. He kisses you slow, so tenderly you’re whimpering against his mouth.

The Ghostface mask is still shoved back in his hair, crooked on his head like some deranged halo. He lifts one hand to it slowly—like he’s taking the last piece of the nightmare off, and slides it free. The plastic hits the floor with a hollow clatter.

Underneath, he’s devastating.

Hair a mess. Face blood-smeared. Lips split. Eyes burning and brooding. The kind of handsome that ruins you.

His fingers move next to the knife in your hand—the same knife you nearly put through JJ’s stomach. He doesn’t pry it away. He lets you feel in control—lets you choose. And when your fingers finally loosen, you place the handle into his palm.

He tosses it onto the bed, laughing in a daze, bowing his head when he takes you in his arms, forehead resting against yours still. He holds you close as he walks you backward, his breath hot and uneven against your lips.

The adrenaline doesn’t fade—it shifts, turning hot in your veins—hungrier and darker, pulling you toward him like a magnet.

The back of your knees hit the mattress and he doesn’t slow—he follows you down, shoving you back into the sheets, his weight settling over you.

“Don’t ever fuckin’ scare me like that again. I know what I mean to you. You shoulda lied. I would have taken care of it. You didn’t need to be all tough…” He tries not to smile against your lips but it spreads anyways. “You didn’t need to tell him you don’t love him. We all know, baby. That was just mean,” he teases.

His teeth scrape along your jaw, lips kissing your neck before he bites down hard, making you gasp, chest arching up into his.

The two of you paw for each other’s clothes, unable to get bare fast enough. The fabric tears away, ripping away from your hot skin, Rafe’s mouth on your tits, hungry and desperate.

“Fuckin’ had my back. Trusted me. You’d never lie to me, right?” He whispers against the soft skin of your breast making your nipple tighten.

“I trust you, Rafe.”

His voice drops lower as he nuzzles against your chest, sucking hard enough to bruise. “That ties you to me for good, princess. You hear me? Forever.” The praise is twisted and wrong, but it makes your panties flood anyway as you whisper the word back to him.

Your little lace thong clings to your pussy, hugging your slick folds, making him moan and hum against your heat when his lips press against it, kissing you through the fabric.

His gaze flicks to the knife lying on the mattress, his smile curling dark. He snatches it up and flips it in his palm before laying the cold, flat of the blade across your stomach.

He looks up at you as he says it, like he’s giving you a chance to pull away, but you don’t.

His thumb strokes slow circles over your hipbone, gaze flicking to one of the smaller cuts on your wrist—a shallow gash from where the knife caught you.

He leans down and presses his lips to it, soft and careful. “You okay, pretty?” He murmurs hot against your skin. “M’sorry,” he whispers, kissing the same spot again. “Had to make it look legit. Like I wanted you hurt.” He pulls back just far enough for his eyes to find yours. “Killed me to do it.”

He brushes his thumb along your jaw, then smiles, slow and dark.

“Topper took it a little too far, huh? Cut a little too deep? That wasn’t part of our little agreement—he had to go. No one hurts my girl like that.”

Rafe licks a smear of blood off his lower lip from where he kissed your cut, eyes half-lidded and heavy.

“Can you take some more, Angel?” He asks, voice dropping lower.

Angel. Your smile twists at your lips, because it was him on the phone, and you know it. ‘Hello, Angel.’ Those words left his lips, and he begged you to say his name but you wouldn’t… Just another twisted test you passed in his eyes.

His fingers still tremble where they hold the knife, but his voice is all velvet when he speaks. “Relax, baby. M’not gonna hurt you. Just wanna mark you.”

You nod, dizzy from the shift in him—the sweetness that doesn’t fit the blood still drying on his hands.

“Say you want me to.”

Your eyes pinch shut and you nod a desperate ‘yes’ as the tip of the dagger drags low; shallow enough sting. He scratches the R into your hip, making you gasp.

“Shhh,” he croons, pressing his forehead against your skin, his voice filthily-soft. His blue eyes stay locked on it, then his mouth follows, hot tongue soothing where the knife left its mark, sucking until you moan.

He rocks back on his knees, the knife still slick with your blood, and turns it in his hand before holding it out to you handle first.

“Your turn,” he murmurs, voice dark with pride. “Go on, pretty. Mark me back.”

Your pulse stutters as he guides your hand, wrapping his fingers over yours around the blade. His other hand points to the spot, muscle twitching under his skin.

“Right here,” he says quietly, tapping over his heart. “Let me know who I belong to.”

The knife feels heavy in your hand. His eyes don’t leave yours as he guides you closer, breath warm against your lips.

“That’s it. Good girl.”

The tip touches skin—he exhales, a low, rough sound that’s half pain, half pleasure. You drag the line of your initial slowly, shallow but sure. His jaw flexes, breath shaking out through a groan.

When it’s done, you let the knife go, watching as blood beads where your mark sits just above his heart. He grins through it, bloody and beautiful. “Knew you could do it. Look at that. We match now.”

“We do,” you whisper as you tilt in with your eyes locked on his, dragging your tongue up his hot, strong chest, catching the bloody tear on your tongue.

“Fuck, baby,” he murmurs as he lowers you down again, pinning you to the mattress under his weight, rolling his hips just enough to tease. “Just like what I told him, huh? You’re fuckin’ mine,” he breathes as his heavy cock grinds against your clit–slow and mean–teasing you shamelessly.

“Please,” you whisper.

“Anything for you, sweetheart,” he smiles, voice deep and self-satisfied, kissing down your body.

His mouth trails over your ribs, your stomach, lower still—slow enough to make you shiver before his fingers hook into the waistband of your panties. His teeth catch the delicate lace, tugging them down your thighs while his hands spread you open, rough fingers dragging you wet and wanting.

He pauses against you for a beat, just long enough for your hips to lift into his mouth—just long enough for you to need—but instead of giving in, he drags his body back up over yours, crawling up your skin, heat and muscle and weight following with him. His chest presses to yours, his mouth finding your lips again, swallowing the sound you make.

And then, without warning, he pushes inside you in one brutal, hungry stroke.

Your gasp splits the room, a deep moan pouring from your lips at the stretch. Your nails sink into his shoulders, gaze flicking low to watch his dick work in and out, glistening with your wetness.

His cock drags slow at first, like he wants you to feel every inch. His exhale burns hot against your cheek—his forehead pressed to yours, hips grinding deep enough to steal your air.

“Look at me,” he murmurs, and it isn’t a request.

His eyes are glassy and wild, pupils blown wide, blue almost swallowed by black. His hand curves around your jaw, thumb dragging over your bitten lips before sliding down the curve of your throat, feeling your pulse slam against his palm.

“Feels so fucking good,” he mumbles. “Even your body knows… Mine—My girl.” His hips snap forward, making you cry out, tears of pleasure sliding down your cheeks as your brain finally lets go of all the thoughts swirling around in your head, going dumb on his dick with each rut of his toned hips.

He groans, biting back a curse as his big hand slides under your thigh to manhandle you onto your side, knee drawn up high so he can get deeper, push further, drive himself into you.

You whimper—your body almost too full—but he holds you there, fingers bruising into your ass and thigh.

“So goddam perfect,” he rasps, voice thick with awe and possession; tits bouncing with each thrust.

“Feels so good,” you sob as you feel your pleasure coil in your belly.

“Taking me so deep. You were made for me. Say it.”

Your breath stutters, your voice barely there. “M-made for you.”

His breath leaves his lips in a growl, rolling you off your side back down onto the mattress. Rafe’s mouth finds your neck, kissing, and biting, mumbling praise like a prayer, half-heard through the sloppy sounds of your pussy.

His free hand slides down, playing with your clit, making your muscles shake. “Rafe,” you whimper and his eyes roll back, already knowing what you’re gonna say.

“Cum all over me—fuckin’ cum on my cock, pretty,” he whispers, his lips ghosting over your own.

Your head tips back, lips parting, voice breaking around his name as you cum hard and fast, pleasure rippling through your body, leaving you clawing for the sheets.

“That’s it, baby,” he hums. He keeps working you at the same pace, his fingers pushing between your lips. You suck down on them; body buzzing as your orgasm fades but the pleasure’s still there.

Your phone lights up on the bed beside you. Rafe looks down at it, tilting it slightly so you can see the emergency message from the University about the lockdown in the campus area and Blood Moon farms. Your stomach falls, heart racing as you read it over, the final line of the message staring back at you through the blood-streaked screen.

🚨 Report tips or suspicious activity directly to local authorities 🚨

Rafe claws your phone out of the sheets, pressing it into your hand, his voice dark and dangerous as he whispers ‘do it’. “Call ‘em… Tell him Topper came here… Tell him you’re the victim, baby. You’re innocent and so am I.”

His thrusts grind deep, dragging out slow and obscene; slick with your arousal before fucking back in.

“They’ll never know you’re stuffed full of your boyfriend’s cock while you say it.”

“Are you sure?” You whisper, trying to act innocent but your smile gives you away.

He grabs your hips, lifting your body off the mattress to find a different angle that has your body knocking higher up the bed with each punishing thrust, making your eyes pinch shut in pleasure before they open wide in surprise when he actually pushes call.

“C’mon, princess. Let the cops hear your sweet little voice while I ruin you—”

You pick up your phone with a trembling hand, pleasure swirling through your veins as you try miserably to maintain your composure.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

Rafe thrusts in hard, and your moan breaks out of you, muffled instantly by his palm pressed hard against your mouth.

“911, what’s your emergency?” They try again.

“There’s been—” You breathe, trying to level your voice as he drags his long cock in and out. “There’s been… Someone—Someone’s dead. You have to help us. P-Please.” Rafe bites your throat to stifle his laugh; his body shaking against yours with the effort of holding it all in.

“Ma’am? Are you safe right now?”

“Say it, baby,” he whispers with his mouth on your ear and your hand clawing into his hair. “Say it. Tell her you’re safe while I’ve got you.”

You can hear her typing, each key-click punching through the speaker like a metronome to your heartbeat.

The phone’s mic catches the shallow drag of your breath and the faint creak of the bed beneath you, every sound suddenly too loud.

“Yes—” You answer clipped, breath fleeting your chest in the rhythm of his thrusts. “I’m safe,” you whisper, voice breaking. The operator inhales sharply, like she’s realized she’s not alone on the line.

“Good girl,” Rafe rasps as he grabs the phone, turning it off before slamming it down on the mattress. He kisses the corner of your mouth, filthy praise dragging across your skin. “My perfect fuckin’ girl. Didn’t even break. You did that for me.”

“Anything for you,” you whisper.

“You know how close they are?” He whispers, recalling the police lights that danced over your ceiling all night for the last week, patrolling, not knowing that the guilt lived here. You nod, feeling your anxiety rise.

“Rafe–” you sob, gasping into his kiss.

“I love you.” The confession spills out of him, raw and desperate as his thrusts roll fast and deep, tearing fresh tears down your cheeks.

“I love you too,” you whisper back, broken and breathless as your orgasm rips through you, a hoarse sob breaking past your lips.

“Fuuuck that’s it, pretty. Cry for me,” he mutters, his breath hot against your cheek as your cunt flutters around him. His thumb smears your tears across your face. “They’ll never know the difference.”

Red and blue lights strobe through the curtains, slicing the room into jagged fragments of color as the sirens sound, shrill enough to make you jump. His thrusts turn messy, rough with need.

He groans, body shaking as he fights it even with the police car door slamming shut, boots pounding up the steps; fists banging on the door like he’s drilling into you, grabbing your cheeks frantically to keep your focus with him. “Eyes on me,” he breathes.

One last brutal snap of his hips, and he’s spilling into you with your name on his lips—filling you deep, pumping you full.

“POLICE! OPEN UP!” The bellow booms through the cracked window as his cock pulses inside you.

Rafe finally pulls back, dragging air into his lungs.

He shoves your clothes into your hands as the front door breaks down, smiling and adoring. You step into your bloody clothes with quivering hands, every inch of you still quaking, while he tugs on his ruined shirt and pants, his warm cum leaking down your inner thigh like a secret.

He yanks you against him, hauling you to the wall you were cowering against minutes ago, his arm cinched tight around you like a shield. His chest heaves, the air thick with sweat and sex.

He dips down, pressing his mouth to yours, kissing you tenderly. His breath is ragged; forehead resting against yours when he murmurs, “Gonna need you to sell this one for me, sweetheart… Think you can do that for me?”

“Yes,” you whisper against his lips, your body weak but sure as the two of you slide down the wall.

“That’s my girl.”

The door explodes open—boots pounding, guns raised, voices barking. Floodlights slice through the haze. But all you feel is his chest under your cheek, his heartbeat pounding steady, and the dangerous curl of his smile pressed to your temple. Held close and safe…

A killer’s dream girl.

Rafe’s girl.

Two nights later…

Oct 29 12:32 PM

💬 Blood Moon Frat Chat

📱Topper Thornton: yo party still on tonight or what? place was crawling w cops last night

📱JJ Maybank: u a pussy or what top?

📱Kelce Williams: like that’s ever stopped us

📱JJ Maybank: of course it’s on cornfields are ours

📱Pope Heyward: yall serious town put out a curfew after midnight they’ll shut us down if we’re caught

📱Kelce Williams: poop quoting the rule book like we give a fuck

📱Kelce Williams: pope my bad baby 😘

📱Topper Thornton: nerd

📱Pope Heyward: fuck you im not paying fines again

📱Rafe Cameron: curfew’s a joke cops can’t patrol all that field

📱JJ Maybank: amen

📱Kelce Williams: only good part about workin this shit pope. stop bein a saint

📱Rafe Cameron: don’t be sloppy we’ll be fine keep the gates up front so it looks legit after midnight it’s ours

📱JJ Maybank: party’s on

📱Pope Heyward: someone DIED how are you not worried

📱Kelce Williams: didn’t know him

📱Topper Thornton: holy fuck dude 😂

📱Kelce Williams: what???? i’ll pour one out for him 🍺

📱Kelce Williams: straight into my mouth

📱Rafe Cameron: It’s one person they’re not gonna shut down the town for one body

📱Pope Heyward: ONE PERSON ^^^

📱JJ Maybank: exactly one body’s not enough to cancel halloween

📱JJ Maybank: not in this economy

📱Topper Thornton: costumes?

📱Kelce Williams: sluttiest fit wins free dick

📱Pope Heyward: what is happening rn

📱Topper Thornton: done

📱JJ Maybank: my girls winning no contest little cheer skirt crop top whole body out ass legs tits everything

📱Topper Thornton: ayyy

📱Kelce Williams: bricked up in econ thinking abt her

📱JJ Maybank: ill kill you

📱Rafe Cameron: …

📱JJ Maybank: what??

📱Rafe Cameron: nothing don’t get sloppy

Oct 29 11:42 PM

💬 JJ Maybank

📱JJ Maybank: u comin tonight sunshine? cornfield’s waitin on u

📱Your Name: idk jj after last night… that was scary

📱JJ Maybank: hey don’t think about that we’re fine they said they caught some crazy guy spoutin off that he did it. party’s still on

📱Your Name: are you sure it’s safe?

📱JJ Maybank: safe as it gets promise besides i’ll be there what you don’t trust me to keep you safe?

📱Your Name: okay 🩷

📱JJ Maybank: i’ll make sure you’re good

📱JJ Maybank: what u want me to grab for u booze weed what

📱Your Name: definitely 💕

📱JJ Maybank: knew it

📱JJ Maybank: my girl

📱JJ Maybank: omw pretty girl

Oct 30 1:01 AM

💬 Rafe Cameron

📱Rafe Cameron: where r you

📱Your Name: just waiting for jj to come get me

📱Rafe Cameron: wrong answer try again

📱Your Name: stop

📱Your Name: we’re on the way

📱Rafe Cameron: been drinkin thinkin bout you all fuckin night

📱Your Name: i’ve been thinking about you too

📱Rafe Cameron: jj was braggin in the chat. said he got to see your costume. he really thinks you bought that for him. shits laughable

📱Rafe Cameron: you got that for me

📱Your Name: of course I did. but it’s just a costume baby

📱Rafe Cameron: not to me. not when it’s on you

📱Your Name: i’m sorry. he saw it in my bag. he just wanted to see it on

📱Rafe Cameron: so you tried it on for him? got dressed up for him? that what you’re tellin me

📱Your Name: he just wanted to see it

📱Rafe Cameron: whole body out? ass legs tits everything?

📱Rafe Cameron: that’s what he’s sayin. that’s how he’s talkin about you baby

📱Your Name: it wasn’t anything i promise

📱Rafe Cameron: im about to lose my fucking shit

📱Rafe Cameron: tell me he hasn’t touched you in it

📱Your Name: he hasn’t

📱Rafe Cameron: good. cause that’s not an option alright

📱Rafe Cameron: even if shit goes sideways tonight you’re not wearin that

📱Your Name: you sound insane

📱Rafe Cameron: no I am insane

📱Rafe Cameron: you dont get it. that wasnt for him. wasnt his to see

📱Rafe Cameron: he already gets so much and he doesn’t deserve it.

📱Rafe Cameron: i’ve been playin the long game all fuckin year watchin him treat you like an option

📱Rafe Cameron: like you’re not the best thing he’s ever gonna have. i’m done pretending like the guy you’re with shouldn’t be on his fuckin knees for you. I am

📱Rafe Cameron: you don’t even know what you do to me do you

📱Rafe Cameron: im getting what i want

📱Rafe Cameron: period

📱Your Name: just calm down baby. You have me okay?

📱Rafe Cameron: a year later and i still remember how you felt on my fingers. messy little thing. so fuckin sweet. bet you’d soak right through that skirt for me

📱Your Name: you’re making this hard. i’m trying to be normal right now just stop

📱Rafe Cameron: you want me. say it

📱Your Name: of course i do

📱Rafe Cameron: knew it

📱Rafe Cameron: I’d ruin you right now if you let me. hand on your hip. palm on your mouth. you wouldn’t even get to scream

📱Your Name: enough rafe pls you’re driving me insane

📱Rafe Cameron: good. welcome to the fucking club

📱Rafe Cameron: it should be me and you right now. i should be the one pickin you up. takin you here

📱Rafe Cameron: you’re perfect for me princess

📱Your Name: you’ve been drinking

📱Rafe Cameron: im not drunk ok? im just fuckin sad

📱Rafe Cameron: alright maybe i’m drunk. dont be mad

📱Rafe Cameron: i told top we kissed

📱Your Name: Rafe…

📱Rafe Cameron: he laughed. said he figured. said he’s been waitin on us to stop pretending

📱Rafe Cameron: even he fuckin sees it and he’s an idiot. he wont say shit

📱Your Name: it’s okay baby 🩷

📱Rafe Cameron: my girl

📱Rafe Cameron: where are you. hurry

📱Your Name: we’re almost there. I’m sure we can sneak away tonight

📱Rafe Cameron: you’re sure???

📱Rafe Cameron: yeah we fuckin are. first chance i get

📱Your Name: sounds perfect

📱Rafe Cameron: i need you

📱Your Name: i need you too Rafe

📱Rafe Cameron: i don’t know how to stop wanting you

📱Rafe Cameron: you here baby?

📱Your Name: just walking out there

📱Rafe Cameron: holy shit

📱Rafe Cameron: cmon

📱Rafe Cameron: you look so fuckin good im gonna cry

📱Rafe Cameron: hello??

📱Rafe Cameron: text me

📱Your Name: thank you baby 💕

📱Rafe Cameron: there she is

📱Rafe Cameron: no more ignoring me

📱Rafe Cameron: I can’t take it anymore

📱Rafe Cameron: you still mine or what??

📱Rafe Cameron: dont make me see you with him

Music booms through the cheap speakers, bass thudding through the dirt, as neon lights flicker around you. Smoke rises into the night sky—a cocktail of bonfire, weed, and autumn leaves.

JJ’s hand finds your hip in the press of the crowd. He pulls you into his body as he shoots the shit with his friends; his tattered clown costume hanging off him from his haunted house shift, makeup smeared from sweat and beer.

He spins you under his arm, the lights catching the shimmer of your skirt as you twirl. You laugh—soft and breathless—and when he catches you, his hand slides down, palm curving around your ass before he drags you back in and kisses you, slow and showy. He murmurs something in your ear that makes you smile, the kind of private, tender thing that used to make you melt.

You look over his shoulder and freeze.

Rafe stands across the fire pit, beer pressed to his lips, chest and abs bare beneath a shredded flannel and torn jeans. His eyes lock on you, unreadable and burning. The old-school Jason Voorhees mask lies crooked in his hair, messing his bangs, fake blood slicked down his neck and stomach, sticky at the waistband of his white boxers peeking over denim.

He doesn’t move at first. Just stares. His throat flexes when he swallows, the muscle jumping under the firelight. You watch his hand tighten around the neck of the beer bottle until his knuckles turn white.

Topper catches his arm before he can make it across the clearing. “Easy, man,” he mutters, a hand braced on Rafe’s shoulder. Rafe’s jaw ticks. He tips the bottle back and drains what’s left, hurling it into the flames. Glass shatters and sizzles, sparks spitting up into the night sky.

Topper leans in close, murmuring something only Rafe hears but it’s enough to still him, his eyes never leave you. Not for a second.

The bonfire paints his skin in shades of red and gold, the heat in his gaze cutting straight through the crowd; JJ’s arm still slung around your waist.

And when JJ breaks away for the keg, Rafe moves. He slides in behind you, close enough that the warmth of him wraps around your skin, his rich cologne scratching that itch in your brain you’d been fiending for.

“Run.”

Just that. One word, but it knocks the air out of your lungs. Your lashes flutter and your heart skitters, pulse spiking as you move fast, running toward the blackness; the parking lot so far ahead it’s like an obsidian in between.

The world around you falls to a hush; corn stalks swaying in the night air, the soft, rhythmic thud of the bass from the party all but snuffed out.

You look over your shoulder for a second, the orange blaze of the fire climbing up into the sky.

It’s colder here—quieter. Each sound your body makes is just a little louder. Your heels crunch through the leaves, sinking into the dirt, stalks dusting your bare thighs as you push through them.

Arms flail as a body crashes into you from behind. A scream claws up your throat before a hand clamps over your mouth; a deep chuckle curling hot against your neck.

“Shhh, pretty girl,” Rafe breathes into your skin, voice thick with lust. “S’me, baby. Just me. Fuck, you smell good too,” he groans as he nuzzles into you but you push him off for a second, fighting for the breath he stole.

“Rafe, what the fuck?” You scold through a weak laugh but as soon as those words leave your lips he’s lifting you off your feet, taking you into his strong arms.

His lips crash into yours—deep, hungry, everything you’d imagined. You gasp, and he groans into your mouth like he’s starving. “Fuck,” he mutters against your lips. “Had me losin’ my mind all damn night.”

He pushes his lips against yours and you gasp and he groans, his greedy tongue sliding against yours as his hands squeeze your ass.

His thumb drags over the corner of your mouth, cleaning up the lipgloss JJ smudged off—just so he could ruin it himself.

“Rafe, I’m sorry—” you said quietly, chest heaving, eyes darting up to meet his. “About JJ. The kiss, I—”

He laughs, low and dark against your neck, breath hot on your skin. “Don’t worry about that, baby,” he murmurs, lips ghosting your ear. “I’m gonna get a lot more than that. Ain’t that right?” You can feel him smirk against your pulse-point, dragging his tongue higher until you’re whimpering ‘yes’.

The two of you step out of the field, a few steps away from the parking lot.

You moan against his lips as he presses you up against the barn; weather-worn planks frigid against your hot skin. Your fingers twist tighter into his shredded flannel, trying to pull him closer.

His chest presses against yours, the fake blood on his body brushing against your costume as his mouth moves down your jaw but you’re too far gone to care.

“Couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you,” he murmurs as his hand slides under your skirt, rough fingers tracing your skin, the pads dragging higher and higher, making you shiver. “Fuckin’ torture looking at you like this when all I could think about was takin’ it off… Filling you up. Hearing my name on these perfect fucking lips—”

His head falls onto the crook of your neck and your breath catches as his fingers brush along your panty-covered pussy, finding you soaked exactly how he knew you’d be. It’s wrong, all of it. But it doesn't matter.

“All mine… I’m done waiting. I’m done sharing.” His fingers tease your clit, rubbing circles on top of the delicate lace making your knees buckle. “Let me hear it,” he growls. “Say it.”

“I’m yours, Rafe,” you whimper.

“Made for me, princess. This is how it was always supposed to be.”

His teeth sink into your neck enough to pinch as he grinds his stiff cock against you so hard that your head falls back against the barn.

“You feel that?” He mutters as he dips in, lips mouthing at the cleavage poking out of the top of your costume. “That’s what you fuckin’ do to me—”

“—Please,” you whisper. “Take me to your truck.”

“Pussy’s gonna soak through my fuckin’ jeans, pretty,” he breathes. “Always so ready for me.”

“Rafe…”

“Never gonna get over hearin’ you this desperate for me,” he whispers, refusing to set you down as he pulls you off the wall.

The second the truck door slams, everything else disappears—the bass, the party, the chaos, all gone. Rafe’s mouth is on yours; lips crashing together, claiming yours, tilting your chin to kiss you harder.

“Jesus… Fuck,” he pants into your mouth frantically as he grabs your thighs and your ass, moving over your skin.

“I missed you,” you whisper, voice cracking on it, like it’s the first truth you’ve said all night. “I need you.”

“Yeah, baby? You need me?” He mumbles against your lips as you can hear how much he loves hearing those words from you. “You make me crazy,” he grits, lips trailing down your jaw, mouthing at your neck, groaning when you arch into him more.

Your hips rock against him, clit dragging over his rough denim through your thin panties, making your head spin.

“Look at you,” he breathes as he nuzzles against your cheek.

His hands slip under your skirt, teasing higher; making your pussy throb. A gasp breaks free when he drags his fingers along your panties feeling how drenched they are.

“All from kissin’ me? Can’t wait to taste it, pretty. You gonna let me?” He asks smugly, mouth dropping open as you whimper a needy ‘yes’.

He fists the hem of your top, pulling it up your chest making your tits bounce out.

“Goddamn… This fuckin’ body, baby. You gotta be kidding me,” he mutters under his breath as your knees sink into the leather seat, lifting enough for him to tug off his belt and yank down his jeans and boxers with a shaky hand.

You sink down onto his lap, rubbing your clothed pussy right against his cock as he groans, but it’s not enough for either of you. With a rough tug, he grabs the waistband of your panties, ripping them clean off your hips. The lace, no match for his strength and want, tossing them somewhere in the front.

“Wanna fuck you right now—” He mutters at the feeling of your cunt on his cock, the slick of your pussy wetting his length.

His hands rest on your body; one hand on your tit, the other on your lower back, needing you closer as his lips wrap around your nipple with a filthy suck.

You throw off his mask, fingers scratching into his hair as you feel his thick cock flex against your sex.

Your hands trail down his stomach, catching the ridges of his abs, and he can’t help but watch as your fingers wrap around the thick base of his dick.

“Sh-Shit,” he stammers as your spit lands on his flushed tip, catching the precum as it rolls down his length.

Your hand lifts to meet it, slicking his cock in a way that has his eyes rolling into the back of his skull as you stroke.

“Feels good?” You whisper as his eyes fall shut and a smirk stretches across his lips.

“So fucking good,” he hums before you slide off his lap with your eyes locked on him. His breath catches; he huffs out a shaky laugh, running a hand through his hair.

“Fuck… my girl,” he mutters under his breath, eyes trailing down your body, the little skirt and top he hasn’t stopped picturing since you texted him. “You’re really doin’ this—shit’s finally goin’ my way. I gotta be dreamin’, right?”

One arm stretches across the back, the other gripping the edge, waiting to tangle in your hair.

“Lips… Tongue, baby. C’mon—” He pleads in a muttered grunt; his voice cutting out as you catch his fat tip on his tongue. “Shiiit…” He drags out the word and the moment your lips circle his dick his head falls back with a heavy thud against the seat.

“Fuck me,” he groans as your tongue swirls and flicks, dipping into the slit at his tip making his thigh muscles flex. You moan and it vibrates through him; his hand finally in a fist in your hair. “Take it.”

You slide your wet lips up and down as he guides you, testing you to see if he can remember just how much of him you can take. He’s so deliciously thick that your jaw aches but you don’t stop.

“That goddamn mouth,” he grunts as his hips lift to push you a little further. “Feels too fuckin’ good.”

Your hand works the base while your lips stretch around him, spit dripping down your chin and his heavy balls as he tries his best to last.

His teeth grit together, jaw clenched as his hips stutter. “Gonna let me fill your mouth? You gonna swallow for me, baby?”

Your muffled words buzz around him, and he breaks with a strangled moan, your name leaving his lips as he spills down your throat.

You swallow it all with your eyes locked; his breathing ragged as his dick sits heavy on your tongue. He pushes his hair off his flushed face, tucking back the hair that had fallen, messy and wet.

“Oh my god,” he huffs, pulling you up into his lap with a growl, pressing his lips on yours; your lips still slick, sweet with liquor and Rafe’s taste on your tongue.

“You know how pretty you look with a mouth full of me?” He laughs under his breath, shaky, thumb tracing your jaw like he can’t believe you’re here.

Your voice cracks, and he groans at the sound, his free hand teasing your slit.

“Sexy… Sweet… Sensitive…” He mumbles as you gasp when he slips two thick fingers into you. “So. Fucking. Wet.” He curls them as he pumps them in and out; thumb pressing against your clit, rolling over your sensitive bud.

“Oh my god,” you moan.

“Shit, pretty, I got you. Feels good?” He whispers, but he knows it does. Your nails dig into his biceps as his bottom lip tucks between his teeth.

You start to match the push of his hand, Rafe’s palm claps against your pussy; the wet squelch and his praise filling the cab.

“Ride ‘em, pretty,” he mumbles as his gaze falls to his hand, your arousal leaking in shimmery tears down his rough fingers.

You cry out as he slaps your ass hard, laying you down on the seat so fast it makes you gasp, his fingers still deep into your guts.

He shifts and lowers himself between your thighs, flipping your little cheer skirt enough to get the perfect view of your pussy; spreading you wide as he dips down, lips mouthing your inner thigh—biting, kissing, mumbling hot against your skin.

You whimper as his fingers fuck into you harder; body jerking, legs shaking around his broad shoulders as he lowers his mouth, licking into you.

“Fuck, Rafe—” You sob. His tongue flattens and drags up; the corners of his lips curling into a smile, before he swirls around you puffy clit, slow and possessive. “So… So good—”

“Squeezin’ my fingers, baby. You gonna cum?”

You nod frantically, hands knotting in his hair, pulling him so he’s drowning in it.

“Rafe, I’m right there,” you push the words past your lips as your back arches off the leather, his fingers still pumping in and out of your slickness.

“Wanna taste you while you scream for me—”

“Rafe, fuck!” You cry, walls pulsing around his fingers.

He doesn’t stop—he speeds up, wanting you shaking and gasping, fat tears rolling down your cheeks as his name trips past your lips in a stutter, your body crushing his between your thighs, that pretty fucked-out smile he loves painted across your perfect lips.

He pulls his fingers out slow, bringing them to his mouth and sucking them clean, eyes locked on yours—waiting for you to beg for what you both want.

Rafe climbs over you, kissing your quivering lips. “Please,” you beg, breathless still. “I want you. Please, Rafe.”

“Fuck, sweetheart—” He pants, those cruel thoughts about teasing you gone almost as fast as they came hearing you like this. “Yeah? Can’t wait anymore, huh? Need me—need this?” His hand braces beside your head, the other dragging down your thigh as his chest presses flush to yours, every muscle wound tight with need.

“Yes. Rafe, pl—” He sinks into you with a long moan, filling you until he bottoms out.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he groans, forehead falling to yours as your hands press shakily against his hips, your body in shock from the quick stretch. “Suckin’ me in. You feel that, pretty girl?” He asks as he stills for a second, feeling your walls squeeze around him.

He stays deep; rolling his hips to hear the obscene sounds, his blue eyes locked on yours, lips parted, smirk curving before your eyes roll back at the feeling.

He starts to grind deep—slow rolls that make his truck rock on the tires with every thrust. The windows fog over, leather seat, slick from sweat and sex as he grabs the seat for leverage, the other hand never leaving your body.

“Feel so… Fuck, Rafe—” You whine.

“I know, baby,” he softens, propping up your head so you can watch him stroke, pressing a kiss on your forehead, mumbling hot against your skin. “You got no idea what you mean to me—” Bang!

Something slams against the side of the truck, hard enough to jolt the whole thing.

Rafe freezes and his eyes lift, his arm reaches out, rubbing away some of the condensation from the glass. He doesn't say anything but you can tell he’s pissed.

“Probably Top bein’ a fuckin’ asshole, baby. Just—Fuck… Where were we, huh?” He whispers, biceps and shoulders flexing as he lowers himself to your lips, trying to win back the moment. “Feels too good to stop—” THUD.

“Shit,” he mutters, and pulls out of you in one hard, reluctant motion, drawing a choked gasp from your throat. You’re empty and aching, slick dripping down your thighs.

He rolls down the window enough to see the swarm of people running from the field. A blood-curdling scream. The sound rips through the air, slicing straight through the fog of sex and smoke, freezing you where you sit.

You scramble off his lap, heart pounding, scanning for what shattered the night.

“Rafe—”

“I know,” he grumbles, tugging your shirt down and pawing frantically at the floor of his truck for your skirt.

He’s fast, breathless, hands all over you but not in the way you want as the chaos outside swells around you—screaming, sneakers pounding against the asphalt, tears, and car engines roaring to life.

“Grace! Grace! Where are you?” A girl screams from outside the truck. Another sobbing about a girl that got stabbed.

“Fuck,” he mutters again, scanning the chaos outside before his hands find your face, rough but steady. “Look at me. You good, baby?”

Tears fill your eyes as you nod frantically, but he knows you’re not okay.

He pulls the truck door open as he yanks on his shirt, fighting to get his belt fastened in place as the cool night air rushes around you.

You look around, searching for JJ as the sirens wail.

Rafe doesn’t speak—just stands there, waiting for the inevitable. Waiting for JJ to run down the hill. To find you. To touch what’s still his in Rafe’s head.

If anyone else looked at him right now, they’d think he was calm. They wouldn’t see what you see.

You wrap your arms around yourself, forcing composure, ignoring the smell of sex that clings to you—the mascara running down your cheeks, the taste of him still on your tongue, his cologne on your skin.

“Baby!” You turn as JJ bursts through the crowd, wide-eyed and panicked. “There you are—oh, fuck. Holy shit. Are you okay?” His gaze drops to your uniform slicked in blood. “Are you bleeding?”

You blink, eyes darting down to your chest, painted in the fake blood from Rafe’s costume. Your mind spins, scrambling for a lie.

“No—no, I’m fine. I fell,” you stammer as he bounds across the space between you. “Rafe. He helped me.”

JJ exhales hard, arms wrapping around you, his hand smoothing down your back.

“You scared the shit outta me,” he mutters. “When I came back you were gone. I thought—I… I thought you left with your friends, baby—”

That’s the last word he gets out before he’s ripped backward—two steps, maybe three—just as his lips dip toward yours.

Rafe shoves him again, both hands planted square on JJ’s chest, the parking lot descending into total chaos.

“What the fuck, Rafe?” JJ snaps.

“Where the fuck were you? Again,” Rafe snarls out a lie.

“Again?” JJ blinks, stunned. “Dude, I told you I was grabbing a drink. I thought—”

“No, you didn’t think,” Rafe cuts him off, his voice rising, frustration spilling over. “You left her. Just like at the fucking theatre, Maybank.”

“She’s fine, alright?” JJ fires back, defensive. “You’re actin’ like she got hurt—”

“She could’ve.” Rafe steps in closer, knuckles white. “You don’t even fucking know what happened. You weren’t there. You never fucking are.”

“Okay, chill. This isn’t the time—”

“No. You chill.” Rafe’s voice cracks like a whip. “This is the time. I’m done watching you fuck this up.”

He points at him, hand shaking. “If you can’t take care of her—don’t fucking keep her.”

“The hell’s wrong with you, man?” JJ shouts, chest heaving.

Rafe doesn’t answer—just stares, that murderous calm settling over him, like if the cops weren’t everywhere, he’d end it right there.

Police storm toward the field, flashlights slicing through the dark; red and blue lights paint the boys’ rigid faces.

“Everybody freeze—nobody leave!” a cop yells, the command instantly ignored as college kids scatter into the night.

“Rafe, you good?” Topper shouts. Rafe’s jaw flexes, but he steps back for now, red and blue lights flickering across his face.

Rafe hurls him the keys. Topper bolts for the driver’s side, Kelce already climbing into the back, flagging the three of you down.

JJ grabs your hand and you stumble after him, the three of you piling in. The engine growls and Top throws it in reverse, gravel spraying as he peels out of the lot.

Your heart’s racing, blood pounding in your ears; your body trembles, stomach twisting as you hit the main road—because everything hits at once.

The smell. Sex. Sweat. Perfume. Cologne. You can practically taste the sin in the air.

JJ doesn’t seem to notice—or maybe his brain hasn’t caught up yet. He cradles your face, thumb brushing your cheek.

You flinch, eyes flicking to the rearview mirror—he’s right there. Rafe… The intensity in his stare like a hand around your throat.

JJ’s palm slides to your thigh for comfort but you want to scream don’t touch me, but you can’t. Not here. Not like this. Not when Rafe’s already clinging to the last thread of control he has left.

You can feel it—the way Rafe’s holding his breath in the passenger seat, big shoulder blades flexing beneath his shirt, his stare unblinking. You don’t dare move. You just breathe, because even that feels like betrayal. And poor JJ… if looks could kill, he’d be lying beside Grace.

“M’sorry, baby,” JJ breathes, lips brushing your neck.

Rafe swallows hard, mouth pressed in two tight lines, waiting for your reaction that never comes—the gentle assurance to JJ that it’s okay, even if it’s all a lie.

A shiver crawls down your spine as the corners of Rafe’s mouth lift, a dark smirk ghosting over his face. And in that moment, you’ve never felt more his.

The night’s far from over.

🔪 part 3 👻

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