، summary𓈒 he’s the golden boy of the collegiate track team- a beloved teammate, the coach’s favorite, and the guy everyone loves. but when the stadium empties and the doors lock, the mask slips. he turns into an absolute nightmare, pushing you to your breaking point. the worst part? nobody believes you. they just think you're cracking under the pressure of losing your top spot.
، pairing𓈒 track runner!randy jackson jr x track runner! black!fem!reader
، warnings𓈒 no use of y/n, mean!randy, psychological manipulation, gaslighting, power dynamics, eventual smut, choking, slapping, kissing, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it b4 you tap it), dirty talk.
، notes𓈒 (really little to no plot honestly, the whole track/college shit is just for decoration✨) ik i said i would get back to jermaine, and i have it but I wanted to post this first, bc I’ve taken a liking to randy jr…this is...questionable, enjoy.
، taglist𓈒 @uh444
want more? go here! 𐃘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 + 𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐙𝐘 𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐌𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓
It was 6:15 AM, the sun barely cutting through the thick morning fog over the bleachers, but you were already on your third lap, spikes digging into lane one, breathing locked into that rhythmic click clack you’d perfected since high school.
You were the star of the women’s 200m and 400m sprint squad. Three time conference champion, national qualifier, and the queen of the athletic department. Coaches used your tape to teach freshmen how to drive out of the blocks. The girls on the team walked around you like you were made of glass and lightning. You had the endorsements, the crisp uniform, the slicked back edges, and an undefeated record that stretched back twenty two months.
Until Randy Jackson Jr. transferred in.
He wasn't even supposed to be a threat to your peace. He was on the men’s 400m hurdles and relay squad- a tall, golden skinned motherfucker with dark brown eyes, a sharp jawline, and these thick, ridiculously bushy eyebrows that framed a face that looked like it belonged on a 90s rnb album cover. He was soft spoken. He smiled at the lunch ladies. He held the gym doors open for the athletic trainers. Everyone on the team loved him. Coach Miller practically drooled over his stride length.
"He's just so polite," your roommate, your girl, and fellow sprinter, Maya, had gushed during week two of fall training. "And he's so fine, girl. Like...respectfully fine."
Respectfully my entire ass.
Nobody saw what happened when the crowd cleared out. Nobody saw the slick, psychological warfare he waged the second the locker room doors swung shut or when you two were left alone waiting for the athletic bus.
To the public, Randy was the golden boy. To you? He was a localized, concentrated nightmare designed specifically to test your sanity.
It started at the mid season intra squad scrimmage. You had just run a season best 22.84 in the 200m, cooling down near the high jump mats, taking slow gulps from your water bottle while the rest of the team clapped.
Randy had walked over, towel draped over his broad shoulders, sweat glistening on his collarbones. He offered a warm, blindingly white smile, bowing his head slightly as Coach Miller passed by.
"Great run, man," Coach had yelled out, patting Randy’s back. "Look at her form! That's what I want from you on the curve!"
"Yes sir, Coach," Randy had said, his voice smooth, warm, and modest. "She’s incredible. I’m just trying to get on her level."
Coach walked away, beaming.
The second Miller was out of earshot, Randy’s smile didn't drop, but the warmth completely evaporated from his eyes. He stepped closer, leaning down under the guise of grabbing his track bag from the bench right beside yours. His shoulder brushed yours, all hot and heavy.
"Look at you," he murmured, his voice dropping into a low, raspy whisper that barely registered over the sound of the stadium speakers. "Breathing all heavy. Pussy probably throbbing right through them tight ass spandex."
Your jaw locked. You snapped your head around to glare at him, your blood boiling instantly. "Excuse me?"
Randy straightened up instantly, his face a picture of wholesome concern, his thick, bushy eyebrows pulling together like he was deeply worried about your health.
"Whoa, you okay?" he said, loud enough for two girls on the distance team to turn around and look. "I just asked if you needed some ice for your shins. You look a little hot."
The distance girls frowned at you, like you were the bitch for snapping at the team sweetheart.
"Don't do that," you gritted out between your teeth, stepping into his personal space, pointing a manicured finger right at his chest. "Don't fucking play with me, Randy."
Randy held his hands up in gentle surrender, offering a warm, apologetic laugh to the onlookers. "My bad! My bad, boss lady. Just trying to be helpful." But as he bent back down to pick up his bag, his face dipped near your ear, his breath hot and smelling faintly of peppermint and a little bit of weed. "You look real pretty when you look like you wanna kill me," he breathed, tongue darting out to lick his bottom lip. "Makes me wanna take you behind the bleachers, throw that little leg over my shoulder, and fuck that cocky attitude right out of you."
Before you could smack the shit out of him, he straightened up, gave you a soft wave, and jogged off toward the weight room like he was a goddamn saint.
It had been like that for three straight months. A slow descent into madness. In front of the team, he was the humble transfer who constantly praised your times. Alone? He was a filthy mouthed menace who seemed to know exactly which words made your pulse race, your jaw tighten, and your pussy react in ways that made you hate yourself every time you showered.
He was fucking with your head. He’d stare at your ass while you got into your starting blocks, making a faint clicking sound with his tongue that only you could hear. He’d leave little anonymous notes in your locker with foul, explicit descriptions of what he wanted to do to you, only to walk by ten minutes later asking if you wanted him to save you a seat at the dining hall.
You hated him. You hated his stride, you hated his polite lil "Yes, ma'am" to the women coaches, and you especially hated those thick ass bushy eyebrows that twitched every time he said something that made your throat go dry.
By the time the conference championship meet rolled around in Atlanta, you were a ticking time bomb.
The team was put up at an old, sprawling Marriott near the track complex. The carpets were faded floral patterns, the hallway lights flickered with a faint, low hum, and the air conditioning in the rooms smelled vaguely of stale ice and bleach.
It was 11:45 PM. Curfew had been enforced by Coach Miller at 10:00 PM flat; anyone caught in the hallways or in the opposite sex’s room was getting pulled from the meet, no questions asked.
You were sprawled across your queen bed in Room 412, wearing a tiny grey sports bra and a pair of black cotton boy shorts, staring at the textured ceiling. Maya was already fast asleep on the other bed, snoring softly, her face buried in a pillow.
Your stomach growled. You hadn't eaten since 6:00 PM, a tiny bowl of grilled chicken and brown rice, and your brain was hyperactive, buzzing with pre meet nerves and frustration.
You needed a bag of chippssuhh and a sweet tea from the vending machine on the third floor.
Sliding out of bed, you pulled a grey hoodie over your top, leaving it unzipped over your shorts, slipped your feet into a pair of slides, and grabbed your room key card.
The fourth floor hallway was quiet, lit by pale bulbs overhead. You walked down the carpeted corridor toward the elevator, your slides squeaking softly against the floor.
When you reached the third floor, you padded down the hall toward the recessed alcove where the ice and vending machines sat.
As you turned the corner, you froze.
Leaning against the glass of the snack machine, holding a bag of peanut m&ms, was Randy.
Because of course it was.
He was wearing a pair of low slung dark grey sweatpants, so low you could see the dark waistband of his boxers and the sharp, v line of his hips, and a tight white sleeveless compression shirt that hugged every ridge of his chest and abs. He had a pair of bulky headphones resting around his neck, his dark curls slightly messy from bed.
He looked up when he heard your slides.
That stupid, infuriating smile spread slowly across his face, his thick eyebrows lifting in mock surprise.
"Well, well, well," he murmured, his voice sounding like warm honey poured over gravel in the quiet hallway. "Look who’s breaking curfew. Coach catch you out here, he’s gonna make you run 800s until you throw up."
"Shut the fuck up, Randy," you hissed, walking past him to grab the edge of the soda machine. "I’m getting a drink."
"Why you always so mean?" He stepped closer, sliding his hands deep into the pockets of his sweats. The heavy scent of him filled the tiny alcove instantly. "I'm just standing here, minding my business, watching the track star sneak around in her little panties."
Your eyes snapped up to his. "They're shorts."
"They look like panties to me," he countered softly, his gaze dropping slowly down the front of your open hoodie, lingering on the curve of your waist, the smooth brown skin of your thighs, before dragging back up to your face. "Cute ones, too. You wear those so it's easier for me to get inside them?"
Your chest heaved. "You are literally the most disgusting person I have ever met."
"And you’re a terrible liar," he whispered, stepping even closer until the toe of his slide bumped yours. "You’ve been looking at me all day. On the bus. During walk throughs. You look like you wanna eat me alive."
"I want to break your jaw," you gritted out, slamming a dollar bill into the coin slot of the drink machine. It spat the bill right back out. You cursed under your breath, flattening the dollar against your thigh, and shoved it back in. It spat it out again.
Randy let out a low, mocking chuckle. "Machine knows a bad girl when it sees one."
He reached into his pocket, pulled out a crisp dollar bill, and reached right over your shoulder to slide it into the slot. His chest pressed against your back for a split second, all broad, and heavy, and hot. The smell of him flooded your nose, making your stomach drop through the floor.
The machine accepted his dollar with a loud mechanical groan. He pressed the button for sweet tea, the bottle dropping into the plastic slot with a heavy clunk.
"There you go, boss lady," he murmured, his mouth hovering right near the top of your ear. "Saved your life again."
You didn't reach down for the bottle. You turned around inside the tight space between him and the machine, trapping yourself against the plastic glass, looking up into his face.
"You think you're so slick," you rasped, your voice shaking slightly from the overload of anger and adrenaline. "You act like a goddamn puppy in front of Coach, and then you come around me talking like a dirty ass dog."
Randy’s eyes darkened. His playful smirk fading, replaced by that heavy, dangerous focus that always made your knees feel weak. He didn't step back. He leaned down, placing one big hand on the soda machine right beside your head, blocking you in.
"I talk to you like that because you're the only one here who actually wants it raw," he whispered, his thumb coming up to lightly trace the edge of your jaw. "All them other girls want polite. You? You want somebody to put their hands on you. You want somebody to ruin your little perfect reputation."
"I hate you," you breathed, staring directly into his dark brown eyes, watching those bushy eyebrows pull down into a sharp angle.
"No you don't," Randy said, his hand moving from your jaw down to your neck, his fingers resting lightly against your pulse point, feeling the rapid rhythm beneath your skin. "Room 314. Marcus and Trey are knocked out cold on melatonin and NyQuil. They wouldn't wake up if a bomb went off."
You stared at him, your heart hammering against your ribs like a caged beast. "You think I'm going to your room?"
"I know you are," he murmured, his thumb pressing just hard enough against your neck to make you swallow. "Or you can go back upstairs and keep staring at the ceiling, thinking about my mouth on you while you touch yourself under them sheets."
He pulled his hand away, bent down, grabbed the sweet tea from the plastic bin, and tossed it to you. You caught it against your chest.
Without another word, Randy turned around and walked down the hallway toward Room 314, leaving the door unlatched just an inch behind him.
You stood in the hallway for thirty seconds.
You told yourself to go upstairs. You told yourself that this was career suicide, that if Coach found out you were in Randy’s room at midnight before the biggest meet of the spring season, you’d be stripped of your captaincy, suspended from the team, and thrown off scholarship. You told yourself that Randy Jackson Jr. was an arrogant, manipulative prick who was trying to break your mental focus so he could be the sole star of the program.
And then you walked straight down the hallway and pushed open the door to Room 314.
The room was pitch black, save for the faint orange glow of the city streetlights bleeding through the heavy sheer curtains. On the left side of the room, two huge lumps under the blankets; Marcus, the team’s top long jumper, and Trey, the hurdles captain, were snoring in heavy, synchronized rhythms, completely knocked out.
To the right, Randy was sitting on the edge of the second queen bed, his dark silhouette illuminated by the streetlight glow. He had his hands on his knees, watching the door close behind you.
The lock clicked shut with a small sound.
"Look at that," Randy whispered, his voice cut with a low edge that made the little hairs on your arms stand up. "The little track star couldn't resist."
You didn't say a fucking word.
The months of subtle insults, the filthy whispers near the starting blocks, the slick comments, the constant mind games; it all rushed to the surface in a single, burning wave of rage…and desire.
You dropped the sweet tea onto the carpet, crossed the small room in three fast strides, and before he could even stand up to greet you, you raised your right hand and slapped him across the face.
The crack echoed through the room. Marcus snored heavily on the other bed, shifting slightly, but stayed completely under.
Randy’s head snapped to the left, the room going dead silent.
Slowly, Randy turned his face back toward you. A dark grin spread across his features, his tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek where your hand had landed.
"Oh," he breathed, his eyes flashing with something mean and completely unhinged. "So that's how we doing this?"
Before you could step back, Randy’s arm shot out like a whip. His big, heavy hand collided with your cheek in a sharp, blinding slap that sent a jolt of heat straight down your neck.
Your head snapped to the side, your jaw aching, vision swimming with tiny silver sparks for a fraction of a second.
"Bitch," you hissed through your teeth, lunging at him.
You grabbed him by the throat with both hands, your manicured nails digging into the tough muscle of his neck, shoving him backward onto the bed. Randy let out a rough, breathy grunt as his back hit the mattress, his hands immediately coming up to wrap around your throat, his long fingers squeezing with terrifying pressure.
You were both gasping, eyes locked in the dark, choking each other out on top of a creaky hotel mattress while two of your teammates slept five feet away.
His grip was like iron. He squeezed just hard enough to make your throat construct, cutting your breath down to a tiny, ragged whistle. You squeezed back with everything you had, digging your thumbs into his airway, trying to crush him, trying to make him hurt, trying to rip that arrogant smirk off his handsome fucking face.
Randy’s dark eyes narrowed, his bushy eyebrows furrowed in focus. He rolled his hips up, before slamming his other hand flat against your chest, shoving you down until you were straddling his lap, forced onto his thighs.
"You like that, huh?" Randy rasped, his voice barely a choke as your fingers stayed locked on his throat. "You wanna choke me out, little girl?"
"I want you...to die," you gasped out, your face hot, blood rushing to your ears as his fingers tightened on your neck.
Randy let out an uneven laugh. He released your neck with one hand, grabbed your hair at the nape of your neck, and yanked your head back, forcing your face up toward the ceiling.
"Look at you," he commanded softly, his voice a filthy, velvet threat. "Grinding on me while you strangle me, you crazy ass bitch."
You dragged your eyes down to look at him. He was breathing heavily, his chest heaving under his tight compression shirt, his mouth open, his throat red under your fingers. But his eyes, his fucking eyes were filled with a possessive hunger that made your stomach twist into tight, delicious knots.
You loosened your grip on his neck, sliding your hands down to his broad shoulders, breathing in ragged, heavy lungfuls of air.
Randy didn't let go of your neck. He kept his large palm cupped around your throat, his thumb resting right under your jawline, feeling the beat of your pulse.
"That's it," he whispered, his thumb pressing in lightly, reminding you who held the power. "Be good. You wanna ride this dick or you wanna keep fighting me?"
"Fuck you," you whispered, your lips brushing against his jaw.
"You about to," he smirked.
Without waiting for him, you reached down between your bodies, grabbing the hem of his tight compression shirt, dragging it up over his broad chest and pulling it off his arms, forcing him to release your neck, tossing it onto the floor. His bare skin was smooth, and warm, and mapped with hard muscle, sweat glistening over his collarbones.
Randy’s hands immediately went to your waist, his long fingers digging into the soft flesh above your shorts, dragging you forward until your clothed pussy was pressed against the bulge sleeping inside his sweatpants.
You gasped at the size of him; he was thick, and heavy, and completely rock hard, pressing right against your wet cunt through the thin cotton of your shorts.
"Damn," Randy groaned, his head falling back against the pillow as you rolled your hips against him once, testing the weight. "Sitting on my dick while my boys are asleep...you really are a dirty little freak, ain't you?"
"Shut the fuck up, Randy," you rasped, shrugging off your hoodie, dropping it onto the floor beside his shirt, leaving you in just your sports bra and shorts.
Randy’s eyes locked onto your chest, his hands sliding up your ribs, his thumbs tracing the underside of your sports bra before fully cupping both mounds, squeezing your breasts firmly through the fabric.
"Take 'em off," he commanded softly, "I wanna see everything."
You huffed, rolling your eyes before rolling off of him.
You reached down, hooking your fingers into the waistband of your black shorts and your panties, dragging them down your legs in one smooth motion, kicking them off the edge of the bed. You sat back up, completely bare from the waist down, straddling his waist in the dark.
Randy sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth.
His hands moved instantly, spreading your thighs wider, his long fingers sliding right up your wet inner skin until his thumb hit your slick, swollen center. He pressed down, rubbing a slow, heavy circle right over your clit.
You bit your bottom lip so hard you almost drew blood, a broken, high pitched whimper escaping your throat.
"Shhh," Randy hissed, his eyes flicking over toward Marcus’s bed. "Keep it quiet, baby. Unless you want them to wake up and see how wet you are for the guy you hate so much."
"Randy..." you warned, your back arching as his thumb kept working you, slick sounds filling the tiny space between your hips.
"Look at this," he whispered, bringing his hand up between your faces, showing you his long fingers glistening wet in the dim light. "Look how soaked you are. You was thinking about this all day, wasn't you? Sitting in them meetings, listening to Coach talk, just waiting to get my dick inside you."
“No.” You replied with a scowl, slapping his hand away.
He shook his head, “You’re such a liar, sweetheart.”
He reached down with his other hand, shoving his dark grey sweatpants and boxers down to his thighs, letting his thick thang spring free.
He was massive and veiny, and hot, and heavy, his pretty tip glistening with pre cum.
You stared down at him, licking your lips. Every instinct you had as an athlete, as a competitive, proud black woman, told you that giving in to this man was surrender. But as he grabbed your hip with one hand and guided his thick head right against the soaking entrance of your pussy, your body made the choice for you.
You lifted yourself up slightly, guiding his dick in.
Randy’s eyes locked onto yours, his bushy eyebrows twitching as he raised his hips, driving himself up into you as you slid down.
"Fuck- !" Randy grunted, his jaw locking hard as your tight, hot walls stretched completely around his thick head, swallowing him down to the middle in one agonizingly slow, deep stroke.
Your head fell back, a choked, silent scream tearing from your throat as he filled you so deeply you felt the pressure right in the center of your gut. Your pussy gripped him like a vice, pulsing furiously around him, completely overwhelmed by the size and warmth of him.
"Goddamn," Randy rasped, his hands digging into your ass, holding you pinned down on his dick, his chest heaving. "You...you feel so fuckin' tight...jesus christ..."
"Don't...don't talk," you whispered, tears of pleasure stinging the corners of your eyes as you began to lift your hips, sliding up his shaft before sliding back down, taking every inch.
Randy’s hands clamped down on your hips like steel bands, controlling your rhythm, pulling you down hard against his pelvis with a wet, heavy slap of skin against skin.
Slap. Slap. Slap.
The sound was filthy in the quiet hotel room. You clamped a hand over your own mouth, biting your skin, your hips rolling in tight, frantic motions while Randy thrust upward to meet you, his long stroke hitting that sweet, deep spot inside you over and over again.
"Yeah," Randy groaned in a harsh whisper, his eyes wild as he stared up at you. "Ride it. Ride this dick, you cocky ass bitch. Show me how fast you can go."
You leaned forward, clenching your jaw and biting your tongue so you wouldn’t make a sound as you placed your hands flat against his broad chest, your nails digging into his skin as you picked up the pace, bouncing on him with reckless, desperate energy. Every time you dropped down, his dick hit your cervix, sending waves of pleasure shooting straight up your spine, making your thighs tremble uncontrollably.
Randy reached up, his big hand wrapping around the front of your throat again, squeezing firmly, pulling your face down until your mouth was inches from his.
"You like this?" he hissed, his breath hot and ragged against your lips. "You like getting fucked by the guy who takes all your shine?"
"Shut up– unh– shut up, Randy!" you whimpered against his mouth, your hips going down faster, your body completely consumed by the overwhelming friction.
"Say it," he commanded, his hand tightening on your neck, cutting off your air just enough to send your nervous system into overdrive. "Say you love my dick."
"Fuck you–"
"Say it," he rasped, his hips bucking up violently, driving himself into you so hard the bed frame gave a low, dangerous squeak.
“No–”
On the other side of the room, Trey shifted under his covers, letting out a loud, grumbling groan in his sleep, turning over onto his stomach.
You froze, your entire body going rigid, your chest heaving, Randy’s thick dick buried deep inside you, pulsing against your wet walls making you clench around him.
Randy didn't move a muscle. He stared up at you, his hand still on your throat, a smirk slowly spreading across his face in the dark. He bent his head up, his tongue dragging slowly over your bottom lip, bringing your attention back to him.
"Don't stop now, boss lady. If you don’t keep going, I’m gonna yell…" he breathed against your mouth, his voice a ghost of a whisper. "You wanna wake them up? You want them to see you taking all this dick?"
You bit your lip so hard you felt the tang of copper on your tongue. The thrill of the danger, the risk of getting caught, the filth of his mouth, the feeling of him stretched so thick inside you, shattered whatever sanity you had left.
You began to move again.
Slower this time. Those torturous rolls of your hips that made Randy’s eyes roll back into his head, a low moan escaping his throat that he had to bury by biting down hard on your shoulder.
His teeth sank into your skin, hard enough to leave a deep, bruised mark before he licked and sucked over the ruined skin, his hands grabbing your ass cheeks, pulling you down into the hardest, deepest thrusts yet.
"Ah...fuck, girl..." Randy rasped, his composure completely dissolving, his fuckass persona cracking under the heat of your pussy. "You...you gripping me so tight...shit..."
Your walls were spasming violently around him, contracting in fast waves as your climax approached. You couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't hear anything over the sound of your own pulse roaring in your ears and the wet, filthy, squelching sounds of your pussy taking his long ass dick.
Randy felt it coming. He grabbed your waist, flipping you off him in one fast movement, throwing your back flat onto the mattress.
Before you could even process the shift, Randy was over you, hovering like a shadow, his dark face inches from yours. He grabbed your left leg, slinging your long, toned thigh right over his shoulder, opening you up completely to the room.
"Look at me," he gritted out, his voice thick and ruined.
The command forced your eyes to his, you blinked up at him, your heart hammering against your ribs.
He lined himself up and slammed back into you with a brutal thrust that made your back arch completely off the bed.
Slap! Slap! Slap!
He fucked you like he was trying to erase your name from the record books. Them deep, relentless strokes that knocked the air from your lungs every single time his hips met yours. His big hand slammed down over your mouth, muffling the high, broken cries that were tearing from your throat, while his other hand gripped your waist, leaving red prints in your skin.
"Take it," he said into your ear. "Take every inch of this dick."
Your eyes rolled back as the orgasm tore through you. It wasn't soft nor was it sweet, it was violent, it made your legs shake, your toes curl, and your pussy clamp down on his dick with crushing force. You bit down hard on his hand covering your mouth, tears streaming down your cheeks from the intensity of it.
Randy let out a low groan into your neck, his body going rigid as his own climax hit him. He shoved himself as deep as he could go, burying his tip right against your cervix, his hips shuddering as he filled your wet, contracting hole with spurt after spurt of his nut.
The heavy, ragged sound of two elite athletes trying to catch their breath in the dark filled the room; other than that, the room was dead silent.
Randy collapsed over you, his heavy, sweaty chest pressing you deep into the mattress, his head buried in the crook of your neck. You could feel his heart hammering wildly against your ribs, all fast and frantic, matching your own pulse.
For two full minutes, neither of you moved.
The smell of sex, and sweat hung thick in the air between you.
Randy slowly lifted his head. His dark curls were plastered to his forehead, his chest heaving a little. His eyebrows were slightly relaxed, his eyes looking down at you in a strange way that made your stomach flutter, in a way that scared you far more than his dirty talk ever did.
He didn't make a slick joke and he didn't smirk.
He reached up, his long, calloused fingers gently pushing a curl away from your face, his thumb softly tracing the swollen line of your bottom lip.
"You good?" he whispered, his voice surprisingly soft, and surprisingly sweet.
You stared up at him as though he were crazy, your chest still rising and falling fast, feeling his thick, softening dick still resting inside you.
You hated him. You hated how good he felt. You hated that he had shattered your armor in less than an hour.
Your palms slammed against his broad, sweaty shoulders, the sudden force catching Randy off guard just enough for his weight to shift. His dick dragged out of you with a wet, heavy slide that made your pussy twitch, his nut immediately spilling out over your inner thighs in a humiliating stream.
"Get the fuck off me," you snapped, your raspy voice a furious whisper in the dark.
Randy stumbled back onto his side, his eyes wide for a fraction of a second, his eyebrows pulling together as he watched you scramble off the edge of the mattress.
You didn't look at him. Your hands were literally shaking as you snatched your shorts and panties off the carpet, dragging them up your legs with zero grace. You grabbed your hoodie, shoving your arms through the sleeves, yanking the zipper up to your throat like armor.
"Look at you," Randy murmured from the bed, his voice dropping right back into that arrogant tone. He sat up slow, completely unbothered by his own nakedness, leaning his elbows on his knees as he watched you shove your feet into your slides. "Look how fast you running now. You wasn't moving that fast when you was choking me out."
"Shut the fuck up, Randy," you gritted out, snatching your sweet tea off the floor.
"You leaving my nut inside you, boss lady?" he whispered, a smirk spreading across his face as he gestured down at your legs. "That shit gonna leak all the way up to the fourth floor."
You glared at him with, your chest heaving under the heavy cotton of your hoodie. You didn't give him the satisfaction of another word. You turned on your heel, unlocked the door as quietly as your trembling fingers would allow, and slipped out into the hallway, the latch clicking shut behind you.
You walked back to Room 412 like a ghost, your thighs slick and aching, your heart hammering against your ribs so hard you felt it in your teeth.
، summary𓈒 dealing with randy after fucking him has turned your college dating life into a total nightmare. he wanna act all sweet, and innocent in public, but behind closed doors, he is an absolute lunatic who is just obsessed with you and your pussy.
، pairing𓈒 track runner!randy jackson jr x track runner! black!fem!reader
، warnings𓈒 SMUT, 18+, no use of y/n, mean!randy, possessive!randy, biting (🤭), manipulating, smut, slapping, kissing, oral sex (f receiving), dirty talk, blood, reader is a bird? (Im sorry).
، notes𓈒 go read pt1 if you haven’t – im sorry for taking so long to post pt2 (the ending is kinda bad if you really think abt it – but there’s more coming, and it won’t take three weeks)…if you pay attention to my notes – once you’re done – really fucking flame me in the comments for how bad it is…if you don’t, I’ll delete my acc 🤭…enjoy my strange ladies.
want more? go here! 𐃘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 + 𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐙𝐘 𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐌𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓
You had stood under the scalding water for twenty minutes, scrubbing at your inner thighs with cheap hotel bar soap until the skin turned raw and bright pink. But no matter how hard you dug your nails into your skin, you couldn't erase the phantom weight of Randy’s hand on your windpipe. You couldn't scrub away the faint, dark purple finger marks wrapped around the soft flesh of your neck like a choker, the skin already rising in a tender. Down on your shoulder, the deep, crescent shaped indent of his teeth was turning an ugly, mottled shade of a bruise. He hadn't just bitten you; the motherfucker tried to brand you while he filled you up.
Maya hadn't questioned a damn thing when you walked back into the room at 12:15 AM. She was used to your pre meet ice runs, your silent, antisocial routines before big finals. When she blinked open one sleepy eye to ask if you were good, you just muttered a "yea", slipped into your bed with your back turned to her, and pulled the sheet up to your chin.
She didn't notice the compression turtleneck you pulled on under your warm up jacket at 5:00 AM the next morning. It was eighty degrees in Atlanta, the sun beating down on the red polyurethane track like a heat lamp, but you wore that high collared black undershirt without flinching. You couldn't use makeup– the second you hit your drive phase in the 200m, sweat would stream down your throat and wash concealer right onto the white collar of your singlet.
Randy, of course, walked onto the infield looking like a million fucking dollars.
He didn't have a single visible mark on him. You had choked him, dug your manicured nails into his tough neck muscle until you felt him shudder, but the motherfucker didn't even have a scratch. His skin was smooth, golden, completely flawless under the stadium lights. He wore his standard bright white headband, his thick, ridiculous bushy eyebrows moving casually as he laughed with the hurdles coach, acting like he hadn't been buried balls deep inside you six hours prior on a creaky mattress.
He didn't look at you once during warm ups. He didn't have to. The silence between you two on the infield was so heavy, so dense with remembered filth, that every time he walked within ten feet of you, the skin on the back of your arms prickled with static electricity.
And then the meet started.
You destroyed the field in the 200m, coming out of the curve three strides ahead of the favorite from Georgia, digging your spikes into lane four and crossing the finish line at 22.61– a new stadium record. Two hours later, you anchored the 4x100m relay, taking the baton from Maya and blowing past the competition like they were standing still.
Randy did the same. He won the 400m hurdles by half a second, clearing the final barrier with that terrifying stride, practically floating over the line to secure his own gold medal.
By 4:00 PM, Marshall University had swept the team titles. The infield was a circus of photograhers, parents, news cameras, and crying freshmen.
You were standing near the high jump aprons, cooling down alone, a bag of crushed ice pressed against your right shoulder. The bite mark Randy had left on your skin was a dark, angry crescent of purple where his teeth had sunk into your flesh while he pounded into you. It throbbed with every beat of your heart, a constant reminder of your own weakness. But you had run with torn hamstrings before. A bite mark was nothing.
"Hey! Look at my champions!" Coach Miller’s loud, booming voice echoed over the turf.
You turned around, pulling the ice bag away from your shoulder. Coach Miller was jogging over, his face flushed red with joy, holding two giant golden team trophies under his arms. And walking right behind him, looking modest and humble in his dark green tracksuit, was Randy.
"Unbelievable performance today! Both of you!" Coach Miller beamed, looking back and forth between you two. "Randy, congratulate your captain properly! She set the tone for the whole squad today!"
"Yes sir, Coach," Randy said smoothly, his voice warm, polite, and full of team spirit. "She sure did. Incredible leadership."
Coach Miller clapped Randy on the shoulder and turned to walk toward the athletic trainer, leaving you two standing alone near the high jump mats.
The second Miller’s back was turned, Randy stepped directly into your personal space.
Before you could back away, his big, heavy hands reached out and clapped down directly on both of your shoulders; his left hand coming down hard right on top of the deep, swollen bite mark on your skin.
A sharp pain shot down your arm, bright white sparks flashing across your vision. Your breath caught in your throat, a quiet gasp escaping your lips as your knees wobbled slightly.
Randy didn't let go. His fingers dug in deeper, his thumb pressing straight into the center of the bruised bite mark.
"Smile, boss lady," Randy murmured, his voice dropping into a low, gravelly rasps that didn't carry more than two inches. His mouth was fixed in a bright, photogenic grin, his eyes crinkling at the corners for the local news cameras thirty yards away. "Smile real big. Everybody’s watching their favorite girl."
Your jaw locked, your teeth grinding together so hard your temples throbbed as you fought the urge to scream from the pain in your shoulder. You forced your lips into a tight, fake, brilliant smile, staring directly into his dark brown eyes.
"I'm going to kill you," you gritted out through your sparkling smile, your voice a tiny, deadly hiss. "I swear to God, Randy, I will kill you in your fuckin’ sleep."
"No you won't," Randy whispered, his thumb grinding deeper into the bite mark, making your eyes water behind your sunglasses. "You love this shit. You all leaning into my hands and shit. I know my nut still leaking out your sweet little hole every time you take a step. You ran real fast today…was you running from me, or was you trying to pump my cum deeper inside you?"
"That's impossible, first of all. And second. Get your hands off me," you whispered, maintaining the brilliant, championship smile for the photographers taking pictures from the track lane.
"I'm holding my captain," Randy said softly, his smile widening. "Showing team unity. Look how pretty we look together. Coach is probably tearing up right now."
"Let go of me, you motherfucker," you gritted out through your teeth.
He ignored you again. "You look kinda good in this tight ass turtleneck," he whispered, fingering reaching up to dig underneath said turtleneck to see his work. "Sweating like a whore in church. Trying to cover up where I put my hands on you."
With your body completely hidden from behind by his broad shoulders and back, and without breaking your fake, camera ready smile, you reached your right hand straight down between your bodies. You slid your hand under the waistband of his shorts, past his briefs, and grabbed his nuts and the base of his dick in a tight, crushing fist.
Randy’s body went completely rigid in your arms.
His warm breath hitched violently against your neck, his eyes widening as your nails dug straight into the sensitive skin of his scrotum, squeezing just hard enough to make his knees buckle. A sharp, choked noise caught in his throat, his jaw locking so hard a vein bulged on his temple.
"Don't fucking play with me, Randy," you whispered right into his ear, your smile staying completely fixed, your voice cold as ice. "I will tear 'em off right here on the lane. See how well you run hurdles with one nut. I don't give a fuck who's watching."
Randy stayed frozen for three long seconds, his fingers still digging into your bruised shoulder, your fist clamped around his balls like they were stress balls.
Slowly, Randy let out a choked, shaky breath that vibrated against your throat.
"Fuck..." he rasped, a dark, breathless chuckle escaping his lips despite the pain. "You really are a crazy bitch, ain't you?"
"Try me," you hissed, squeezing just a fraction tighter.
"Aight...aight," he whispered, his hands slowly relaxing on your shoulders, tapping your back in a gentle surrender. "Message received, captain."
You released his nuts slowly, sliding your hand out from his shorts, wiping your palm against his track jacket before pulling back with a sweet, polite nod.
Randy took half a step back, his face slightly flushed, his breathing a little deeper than usual, but that cocky, infuriating smirk crept right back onto his face as he adjusted his shorts.
"Great meet, boss lady," he said out loud, loud enough for Coach Miller to hear as he walked back over. "Looking forward to the rest of the season."
"Thanks, Randy," you said sweetly, your smile bright enough to blind the sun. "You’re too kind."
After that you stayed away from him for ten full days.
It took five days for the handprint on your neck to fade from dark purple to a faint, sickly yellow, and another three days for the bite mark on your shoulder to stop throbbing every time you lifted a dumbbell in the weight room.
You changed your routine completely. You showed up to the track at 5:00 am instead of 6:00 am so you wouldn't see him on the oval. You ate your meals in your dorm room instead of the dining hall. You blocked his number on your phone– not that he texted you anyway, because Randy didn't text like a normal person; he preferred to ambush you in person like a weirdo.
By day eight, your brain felt clearer. You told yourself that Atlanta was a fluke. A moment of extreme stress, high adrenaline, and temporary insanity brought on by pre meet nerves and a horrible diet. You were a serious athlete, an academic scholar, a woman with a future. You didn't feel the kind of girl who'd let a light skinned, bushy eyebrowed sociopathic motherfucker choke her out in a three star Marriott while his roommates slept.
But then came the Annual Marshall Athletic Gala.
It was held in the grand ballroom of the Downtown Regency, a black tie event where all the sports teams, football, basketball, track, volleyball, tennis, dressed up to celebrate the end of the spring season.
You wore a black, floor length dress. You felt pretty.
It was simple, and classic, and devastatingly sexy. It pressed against your breast, and it exposed every inch of your smooth, unblemished collarbones, and a back that dropped all the way down to the top of your lower back. Your skin was nice and oiled, glistening under the chandeliers, your hair styled in a long ponytail, your edges laid in pretty swoops, and your forehead was shiny.
There wasn't a single mark on your neck, thanks to those ten days.
You were standing near the open bar with Maya and two girls from the tennis team, Kennedi and Brianna, sipping a glass of champagne, laughing at a story about the football team's offensive line getting kicked out of an all you can eat buffet.
"Girl, don't look now," Maya whispered, elbowing you in the ribs, "but Randy has been staring at your back for fifteen minutes flat."
You didn't turn around instantly. You took a slow sip of your champagne, letting the cold bubbles tickle your throat, before casually glancing over your shoulder.
Randy was standing near a tall cocktail table, leaning against it with one hand in his pocket.
He was wearing a tailored black tuxedo, no tie, the top two buttons of his white shirt undone, exposing his pretty collarbones and the chain resting against his skin. His curls were shiny like he had just got it done, his jaw was sharp, his thick, bushy eyebrows drawn together in a brooding line.
You couldn’t even lie; he looked so sexy right now.
And he wasn't looking at the athletic director who was giving a speech near the stage. He was looking directly at you. His eyes were completely unreadable, dragging slowly down the open of your dress, taking in every inch of your bare back.
You offered him a indifferent smirk, raised your champagne glass in a silent, mocking toast, and turned back to your conversation with the three beautiful ladies.
Ten minutes later, you slipped away from the crowd, making your way down the quiet, carpeted hallway toward the restrooms near the back of the ballroom.
You didn't even make it to the fucking bathroom.
A hand shot out from the dark alcove near the emergency exit stairs, wrapping firmly around your wrist, pulling you violently out of the main hallway into the shadowy, quiet stairwell.
The heavy steel door slammed shut behind you, cutting off the loud jazz music from the ballroom into a distant thump.
Before you could scream, you were slammed back against the cold concrete wall, Randy’s broad body pinning you completely in place.
"You havin’ fun?" Randy rasped, his voice quiet, and cocky in the echoey stairwell.
He was leaning over you, his hands flat against the concrete on either side of your head, trapping you. The intoxicating scent of his cologne filled your lungs instantly, making your stomach drop.
"What the fuck, Randy," you said, crossing your arms over your chest, looking up into his face with frown on your face. "You're ruining my dress."
Randy’s eyes flicked down to the top of your dress, taking in the smooth, clean skin of your collarbones and neck.
"Calm the fuck down," he murmured. "You thought you was slick ignoring me for ten days?"
"I wasn't ignoring you," you said, offering a tight, patronizing smile. "I just don't waste my time on cocky assholes."
Randy let out a low laugh that sounded more like a threat. He stepped closer, his knee sliding between your thighs, pinning the thin silk of your dress against the concrete.
"Cocky assholes?" he repeated softly, leaning down until his lips were hovering a millimeter from yours. "Is that what I was when I had you moaning on that hotel bed? Is that what I was when you was choking on my fingers so you wouldn't wake up Trey?"
"Why you always gotta bring that up? That was a mistake," you said, looking him straight in his eyes. "A one time lapse in judgment because I was stressed about the 200m final. It meant nothing."
Randy’s jaw worked silently. The arrogant smirk vanished from his face, replaced by an anger that made his bushy eyebrows pull together.
"It meant nothing?" he whispered, his hand coming up to wrap around the back of your neck, his palm sliding up your sleek ponytail, wrapping his hand around it, pulling your head back gently. "You wanna lie to me right now?"
"I don't owe you anything, Randy," you snapped, your composure slipping just a fraction as the tips of fingers dragged over your jawline towards your chin. "We aren't a couple. We aren't friends. You're just a guy on the track team who talks too much."
"Yeah?" Randy rasped, his gaze dropping to your lips. "Then why you standing here in this dark stairwell with me? Why ain't you screaming for help?"
You didn't answer. You didn’t fucking answer because you couldn't.
Because the truth, the sickening, terrifying truth, was that you had missed it. You had missed the filth, and the crazy, and the sick power struggle that only existed between the two of you. You had been bored for ten days.
You looked up into his face, your eyes narrowing into a sharp, predatory line.
"You wanna do me a favor, Randy?" you whispered softly, your voice dropping into a low purr.
Randy blinked, slightly caught off guard by the tone of your voice. "Hmm?"
You reached down, your hand sliding under his tailored suit jacket, your fingers tracing the line of his abs through his white shirt, moving down to the waistband of his trousers.
"Get on your knees," you said.
The stairwell went dead silent.
Randy jerked his head back as if you had slapped him, staring at you, his eyes widening in disbelief. "What the fuck did you just say?"
"You heard me," you said, your voice dead calm. "Get on your knees, Randy. Give me head right here in this stairwell, or don't ever speak to my name again."
Randy let out a disbelieving, harsh laugh. "You out your fucking mind. I ain't getting on no knees for you–"
"Then move," you said instantly, shoving his shoulder, making a move to step past him toward the steel door. "I have a date to accept with a guy from the basketball team waiting in the ballroom. And maybe he’ll eat my pussy.”
The second the word basketball left your mouth, something completely unhinged snapped behind Randy’s pretty eyes.
His hand shot out, grabbing your hip, and with a sudden drop, Randy Jackson Jr, the golden boy of the university, the national hurdle champion, the proudest, most arrogant motherfucker on campus, dropped straight down onto both knees on the dusty concrete floor between your legs.
The sight of him down there, looking up at you with dark, hooded, hungry eyes, his expensive tuxedo pants gathering dust on the floor, his broad shoulders framed between your thighs, made your clit jump in anticipation.
"Look at you," you whispered, a slow, wicked grin spreading across your face as you looked down at him. "Look at the track star." You mocked before biting your lip as you cupped his cheek.
Randy didn't say a word. His hands came up, grabbing the back of your thighs, pulling you forward until your covered core was pressed against his face, his nose digging in as he sniffed, his nose nudging lightly at your clothed clit making your brows twitch.
"Did you miss my pussy, Randy?" you asked, your voice a soft, mocking purr as you reached down, lifting the front hem of your black silk dress, pulling your tiny black thong to the side, exposing your wet, swollen slit directly to his mouth.
Randy looked up at you through his thick dark lashes, his eyes hooded, and completely consumed by lust.
He slowly nodded his head, a low, deep "Mmm..." vibrating through his chest as he buried his face straight into your pussy.
His tongue came out, all long, and warm, dragging in one slow, soaking stripe from the bottom of your slit all the way up to your clit.
You gasped, your hands shooting to his shoulders, your head falling back against the concrete wall as a violent shudder ran down your spine.
"Oh...fuck..." you whimpered, your fingers digging into the expensive fabric of his suit jacket.
Randy didn't stop. He ate you like a man who had been starving in the desert for ten days. His tongue swirled around your clit, flicking in fast strokes while his thumbs spread your cheeks wide, holding you completely open to his mouth.
Every time he sucked your clit into his mouth, he let out a low, vibrating hum, "Mmmmm...", that sent vibrations straight through your nerve endings, making your knees shake violently.
"Randy...unhh...Randy..." you moaned softly, trying to keep your voice quiet as distant footsteps echoed from the floor above you in the stairwell.
Randy heard the footsteps, too. Instead of stopping, it made him nastier.
He shoved two long fingers deep inside your soaking entrance, curling them upward against your g spot, while his mouth sealed over your clit, sucking hard, swallowing your slick, fast flowing juices like it was wine.
"Tell me you missed it," you rasped through your teeth, tears of pleasure blurring your vision, your hands raking through his curls, and gripping, pulling his face tighter into your cunt. "Ouu fuck...tell me you missed it..."
Randy didn't pull his mouth away only cause he didn’t want to. He kept eating your pussy, his tongue working frantically, and gave two firm nods of his head against you, letting out another deep, vibrating hum that echoed through your bone marrow.
Your climax hit you suddenly, so suddenly after not having this man for so long.
Your back arched off the wall, your hands clenching into his hair, your body locking up as a long, broken, silent sob left your lips. You came hard right on his face, your pussy walls clamping down furiously on his two fingers, pumping wet your juices all over his lips, chin, and tongue.
Randy took every drop. He kept licking you through the contractions, swallowing everything you gave him, his hands holding your trembling thighs steady until the last spasm passed.
When he finally pulled back, strings of your slick cum following before breaking, he stood up slow, his long legs unfolding.
He was breathing heavily, his white dress shirt slightly wrinkled, his face glistening with your juices from his nose down to his chin. He pulled a white silk handkerchief from his suit pocket, slowly wiping his mouth, his eyes never leaving yours.
"You feel better now?" he whispered.
You dropped the hem of your silk dress, your chest still heaving.
"It was alright," you said smoothly, shrugging as though it was something as simple as trying the food he cooked. "You're getting better,” you said mockingly, patting his arm.
Randy let out a low chuckle, stepping close, leaning down to kiss your cheek before moving back to look into your eyes. "Keep playing with me. See if I don't fuck you on the hood of Coach's car next time."
He turned, pushed open the steel door, and walked back into the bright lights of the gala, leaving you standing in the dark stairwell, your thighs dripping, your body completely ruined once again.
It was like after that night in the Hilton bathroom, the shabang had changed.
It wasn't just secret, violent hookups anymore. A strange, suffocating shift took place in the air between you two, a shift that made your skin crawl in a completely new way.
Randy stopped being just an asshole who whispered filth in your ear. This crazy ass bitch started acting...possessive. It was as though your pussy had put a spell on him.
It started at a mid week weight session.
You were on the squat rack, wearing your normal grey gym shorts and a sports bra, doing a set of heavy back squats. Jaiden, the basketball player you’d used to push Randy’s buttons at the gala, was standing nearby, waiting for the bench press, laughing with you between sets.
"You're looking strong today, cap," Jaiden said, offering a warm smile, reaching out to pat your shoulder in a completely innocent, friendly teammate gesture. "Form is looking crazy."
"Thanks, Jay," you smiled, wiping sweat from your forehead with a towel. "Trying to keep up with you."
Before Jaiden could answer, a shadow fell over both of you.
Randy walked up, holding a set of 45 pound weight plates. He didn't look mad. He had that fuckass bright ass, wholesome ass, smile on his face, the one he used for Coach Miller and the local news reporters.
"Wassup, Jaiden," Randy said smoothly, his voice warm, polite, and full of brotherhood. "The basketball coach needs you over at the gym."
"Oh, word?" Jaiden blinked, wiping his hands on his shorts. "Aight, thanks Randy. See you later, cap."
"No problem, man," Randy smiled, nodding politely as Jaiden walked away toward the indoor field.
The second Jaiden was twenty feet away, Randy dropped the two 45 pound iron plates onto the rubber floor with a deafening cradh that made half the weight room, including you, jump.
He stepped directly into your space, his large body blocking you from the rest of the team, his shadow swallowing you whole.
“Thank, Jay.” He mocked your voice.
You rolled your eyes.
Though his smile didn't drop.
"What he touching you for?" Randy murmured, his voice so quiet.
You wiped your neck with your towel, staring up at him with a cool, unbothered expression. "He patted my shoulder, Randy. We're teammates."
"He don't need to touch your shoulder," Randy said, his voice completely flat, devoid of its usual mocking filth. "He don't need to stand that close to you, either."
You let out a dry, incredulous laugh. "Are you serious right now? You don't own me, Randy. We aren't dating."
Randy leaned down, his face inches from yours, those thick bushy eyebrows pulled into a tight, dark line.
"Don't play with me," he whispered, his hand reaching out to grab your wrist, his fingers squeezing firmly around your pulse point. "I don't care if we dating or not. You mine. I put my hand on your neck, I put my nut inside you. (Oh, he would not let that go.) You don't let no other nigga touch you on this campus. You understand me?"
You jerked your head back, your brows coming together. "Or what?" you challenged, leaning into his space. "What are you gonna do, Mr. Nice Guy? You gonna throw a tantrum in front of Coach?"
Randy’s jaw worked. He stared at you for three long seconds, his grip on your wrist tightening until your fingers went slightly numb, cutting so deep that rubbing your fingertips together produced no feeling at all
"I'll break his fucking leg," Randy whispered, his voice dead serious, completely stripped of any humor. "While we're all in the gym. I'll drop a weight on his leg and make it look like an accident. Try me and see if I won't."
Your heart took a heavy, uneven thud against your ribs. You stared at him, looking for the joke, looking for the smirk, looking for the cocky asshole.
It wasn't there.
Randy was dead serious.
"You're insane," you breathed, pulling your wrist out of his grip. "You're fucking crazy, Randy."
"Yeah," Randy smiled softly, his warm expression snapping right back into place as Coach Miller walked into the weight room. "I am. So don't make me prove it, honey."
Two days later, you decided to test his boundary.
You accepted a dinner date with Jaiden when he'd asked. He had been asking you out for three weeks, and you finally said yes, picking a nice, upscale restaurant twenty minutes off campus, far away from the university athletic complex.
You dressed up, feeling pretty all over again. A nice lil red mini dress, black heels, your hair styled in soft waves falling over your shoulders. You sat across from Jaiden in a cozy, candle lit booth, sipping white wine, listening to him talk about his games.
Jaiden was nice. Jaiden complimented your smile, he held the door open, he didn't whisper foul shit about your pussy in public.
It felt like heaven. It felt like being a normal twenty one year old college girl.
Until like, what, 8:30 pm?
You were halfway through your chicken pasta shit when the front door of the restaurant opened, the bell ringing softly overhead.
You didn't think anything of it, until you saw the host lead a tall, wide shouldered man in a dark suit toward the booth directly across the aisle from yours.
Fucking Randy.
He walked in alone. He had a coat draped over his arm, his dark curls damp from the light drizzle outside. He looked completely composed, completely natural, as if he ate at this specific restaurant every Thursday night at 8:30 PM.
He didn't look surprised to see you.
He sat down in the booth right across from yours, unfolding his cloth napkin, placing it neatly over his lap. When the waitress walked over, Randy offered her a warm, charming smile.
"Just a glass of water and the lasagna, please," Randy said politely, his voice carrying clearly over the soft jazz music playing in the dining room. "Thank you so much."
Your hands froze on your fork. Your face went completely drained of color.
Jaiden was still talking, completely oblivious. "...so my coach says if I drop twenty five points a game at the showcase, I am looking at a five star ranking guaranteed– hey, you okay? You look like you saw a ghost."
"I'm...I'm fine," you forced out, your voice trembling slightly as you took a long gulp of your white wine.
Across the aisle, Randy slowly turned his head.
He looked directly at you over the top of his cup. He didn't glare. He didn't frown. He offered you a soft, polite, friendly nod.
Then, he set his glass down, pulled his phone out of his pocket, typed a quick message, and set the phone face down on the table.
Two seconds later, your phone buzzed in your lap.
You reached down, your hands shaking slightly, and unlocked the screen.
lil fucker 🙄
Tell him u have a headache and leave. or I'm walking over there, sitting next to him, and telling him how i ate ur pussy in the hilton bathroom.
Your chest heaved. You stared at the screen, your blood running entirely cold. This bitch.
You looked up at Randy.
He was looking at his menu, humming softly to the jazz music, perfectly calm, perfectly polite, waiting.
"Jaiden," you said, your voice tight, and completely strained. "I'm...I'm so sorry. I suddenly feel really sick. My head is pounding."
Jaiden blinked, his eyes filled with immediate, genuine concern. "Oh man, really? Do you need me to drive you back to the dorms? I can get the check right now."
"No!" you said, a little too loudly, catching the attention of a nearby waiter. "No...please, stay and finish your food. I'll take an Uber. I really just need to go lie down."
"Are you sure?" Jaiden asked, reaching out to touch your hand on the table.
Before Jaiden’s fingers could even brush your skin, Randy’s fist slammed onto his table resulting in a sudden burst of noise.
Randy stood up from his booth before pulled a hundred dollar bill out of his wallet, slapped it onto his table to cover his untouched meal, grabbed his coat, and walked toward the exit doors.
"I'm sure," you choked out to Jaiden, snatching your purse off the seat. "I'm so sorry, Jaiden. I'll call you tomorrow."
You made sure to kiss his cheek before you practically ran out of the restaurant.
You pushed through the heavy glass doors of the restaurant, your heels clicking fast against the concrete, your breath coming in ragged, angry bursts.
The night air outside was cold and wet, a soft drizzle slicking the ground of the parking lot.
You looked around the dark parking lot. "This nigga…" you muttered.
A black car parked under the streetlamp flashed its headlights twice.
You walked across the wet ground, opened the passenger door open, and sat yourself into the dark leather seat, slamming the door shut.
Randy was sitting in the driver's seat. He had both hands resting on the top of the steering wheel, staring straight ahead through the rain slicked windshield.
"Are you out of your fucking mind?!" you yelled, turning in your seat to glare at his side profile. "You followed me?! You threatened me?! Who the fuck do you think you are?!"
Randy slowly turned his head to look at you.
His expression was completely stripped of emotion. No smile, no cocky fucking smirk.
"You sat at a table with that nigga," Randy said, his voice quiet, flat, and completely devoid of inflection. "You wore this fuckass dress for him."
"And?! I can wear whatever the fuck I want for whoever I want!" you yelled, your clapping your hands for emphasis. "I don’t know how many times I have to fucking say this! You don't own me, Randy!"
"Then why the fuck are you in my car?"
Randy’s voice didn't rise. The engine idling beneath the hood made a low, steady rumble, shaking the floorboards just enough to vibrate straight through the thin soles of your heels.
You stared at his side profile. He looked like an oil painting of a bad story.
You let out a scoff, dragging your eyes up to the dark leather headliner before rolling them so hard your temples ached. "Oh, my fucking God," you muttered, throwing your arms across your chest. "Don't do that. Don't sit up here acting like you didn't just back me into a corner with your stalker ass text messages."
"I asked a question," Randy murmured, his fingers tightening on the steering wheel until his knuckles went pale under his golden skin. He still wasn't looking at you. He was staring straight ahead through the sweep of the windshield wipers. "If I don't own you, if you don't give a fuck about me, why didn't you let that nigga bring you home? Why you sitting in my passenger seat dripping rainwater on my leather?"
"Because you were about to make a scene in a four star restaurant, Randy!" you snapped. "You were sitting twenty feet away looking like a goddamn serial killer! You think I wanted Jaiden getting into a fight with you over some sick ass mind game you're playing?"
"Jaiden wasn't gonna fight nobody," Randy said softly, a faint, ugly twitch pulling at the corner of his jaw. "He was gonna listen to me tell him how you sounded in the hotel Room, and then he was gonna ask for his ring back."
"He didn't give me a ring, you fucking idiot!"
"Whatever the fuck he gave you," Randy said, shifting the car into drive with one hard, fluid jerk of his wrist. The transmission clicked into place, and the black sedan pulled out of the parking space, its tires spinning once against the wet gravel before gripping the wet pavement of the avenue.
The silence in the car immediately slammed back down, thick enough to smother you. You quickly put your seatbelt on, knowing Randy’s crazy ass, he probably would have flipped this whole car if you actually made it through that date with Jaiden.
The rain picked up, tapping a fast, relentless rhythm against the roof. You kept your face turned toward the side window, watching the neon signs of suburban strip malls blur into streaks of yellow, red, and electric blue. Your heart was still knocking against your ribs, at a fast pace that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with the fact that every time this motherfucker got within six inches of you, your body acted like it had forgotten how to function without him breathing down your neck.
Three miles went by without a word. The air conditioner was blowing a faint, cool breeze across your bare legs, making the goosebumps rise along your thighs. You reached out to turn the knob down, but before your fingers could touch the dash, Randy’s right hand shot across the center console, clamping down over your wrist.
He didn't squeeze hard enough to bruise, but his grip was immovable.
"Don't touch shit," he muttered, eyes still glued to the road.
You yanked your hand back with everything you had, wrenching your wrist out of his grip so hard your knuckles struck the side of the center console with a dull, sickening thud.
"Well shit, don’t fucking touch me then!”
He kept his eyes fixed straight ahead on the empty, rain slicked stretch of highway leading back toward the eastern edge of campus. The dark silhouette of the university's high rise dormitories loomed through the gray mist in the distance like a pretty castle.
"Keep screaming," he murmured, his voice low, completely smooth, like he was discussing the weather. "See if anyone cares."
"You are a sick, crazy motherfucker, Randy," you hissed as you glared at his side profile. "You literally tracked my phone or followed me from the athletic building. That is stalker shit. That is criminal shit."
"I didn't track shit," Randy said, his jaw tightening. "You left your schedule printed out on the locker room bench. Big red circle around tonight. 'Dinner with Jay.' You leave your shit laying around like a little kid and then get mad when somebody reads it."
"It was in my personal locker, you fucking psycho!"
"Locker wasn't locked," he countered, flipping the turn signal with a flick of his finger. The rhythmic click clack of the blinker filled the quiet car, mocking you. "Door was cracked an inch. I was just being helpful. Closing it for my favorite captain."
"Oh, Fuck you."
"You already did," he rasped, turning the steering wheel to the left as the car swung onto the quiet, tree lined access road behind the dorms. "Twice. And both times you looked like you was meeting God."
"First of you, didn’t fuck me twice. Your dick has only been inside of me once. And then you ate my pussy. Second of all, it was trash. I’ve had better," you lied, your teeth grinding together. "It was literally the worst twenty minutes of my life."
Randy let out a low, breathy laugh that didn't reach his eyes. "Yeah, okay."
He brought the car to a smooth, silent stop right in the loading zone outside the front glass doors of your dorm building. The engine idled down to a faint, steady pulse beneath your feet.
Randy pulled the handbrake up until it clicked four times, and turned his head to look at you.
His face was completely half drowned in the orange glow of the streetlamp outside. Those eyebrows were drawn down low, his eyes hooded, and completely saturated with that same energy that made your skin prickle.
He didn't make a move toward you. He just rested his left wrist on top of the steering wheel and looked at you.
"Here's your stop," Randy murmured. "Go on inside. And don’t go textin’ your lil basketball boyfriend telling him you sorry your stomach was hurting. I’ma break your fuckin’ phone.”
You gave him a side glance.
Your hand was already resting on the silver door handle. All you had to do was pull it, step out into the rain, run up the concrete steps into the lobby, swipe your keycard, and leave him sitting out here in his dark car like the sick fuck he was. You could go upstairs, wash your face, block his number again, and pretend this whole night never happened.
You didn't open the door.
You sat there, breathing heavy, staring into his dark brown eyes, watching the faint, cocky twitch at the corner of his lips.
You hated him. You hated the way he talked to you. You hated the way he made you feel like you were losing your mind in real time.
You hated the fact that the second he told you to get out, your chest tightened up with a sick, desperate urge to drag him straight into the dirt with you.
Without saying a single word, you unbuckled your seatbelt with a sharp clack.
Randy’s eyes flicked down to your waist, his eyebrows lifting just a fraction.
You swung your left leg over the center console, high heels digging into the floorboards, and threw your body right across his lap, straddling his thighs in the cramped driver's seat. The tight red mini dress rode up past instantly, your bare thighs coming into direct, heavy contact with the dark fabric of his tailored pants.
A smirk spread across Randy’s face instantly. He didn't even look surprised. He looked like a man who had laid a trap in the woods and watched the deer walk right into the steel jaw.
He didn't speak. He didn't say 'I told you so.' He didn't give you the satisfaction of a verbal victory.
His hands just came down onto your ass, broad palms cupping the smooth silk of your dress, his long fingers digging deep into your flesh through the thin fabric, pulling you down hard against his erection.
You grabbed his face with both hands, your nails digging straight into his jawline, and bringing his mouth to yours.
There was no sweetness to the kiss, no gentle slow buildup whatsoever. It was two elite athletes slamming into each other in a confined space.
Your mouth opened over his, your tongue pushing deep into his mouth. Randy let out a grunt against your lips, his tongue tangling with yours in wild strokes, sucking your bottom lip between his teeth and biting down hard enough to make you taste blood.
You pushed deeper, your fingers tangling wildly into the thick, damp curls at the back of his head, yanking his hair back, dragging his mouth harder against yours.
Randy lifted his hips off the leather seat, grinding his bulge right into your cunt through your panties and his pants.
A muffled, broken whimper escaped your nose as the friction hit your clit through the layers of clothes. You rolled your hips against him slowly, your chest heaving against his white dress shirt, your nails digging so deep into his scalp you felt him shudder beneath you.
He shifted his broad shoulders, leaning you back against the steering wheel until the horn gave a tiny, accidental beep into the quiet night, his mouth completely overwhelming yours. He sucked your tongue into his mouth, his breath coming fast and hot through his nose, his large hands working their way back down to grab two big handfuls of that ass, making you grind on his lap over and over.
The car filled with the sound of messy, wet kissing, heavy breathing, and the frantic rustle of silk against wool.
His tongue stroked yours, swallowing every gasp you tried to make.
Then, without warning, Randy pulled his mouth back like three inches.
His pretty face was flushed, his eyes completely dilated with lust, his chest heaving under his shirt. He held your face pinned between his big hands, his fingers cupping your jaw, squeezing your cheeks together until your lips pouted out making you frown in slight confusion.
Before you could process what he was doing, Randy tilted his head, and spat straight into your open mouth.
The thick, warm spit landed directly on your tongue.
Your eyes went wide as a motherfucker. You only swallowed it out of instinct, wink wink. But that motherfucker should’ve warned you first.
Or you wouldn’t have slapped the absolute fuck out of him.
The sound echoed through the car and his head snapped to the left, his cheek instantly rising in a bright red, palm shaped welt.
"You sick ass fuck!" you screamed, wiping your mouth frantically with the back of your wrist, your voice shaking.
His right hand shot out, his open palm coming across your face in a blinding slap.
Sparks danced across your vision. Your ears rang with a sharp, high pitched whine, your cheek burning like you had been branded with a hot iron. “Why the fuck…”
Randy big hand shot straight out to grab a massive fistful of your hair. He yanked it backward, pulling your head back until your neck was completely exposed, your throat stretched taut.
"You like slapping me, huh?!" Randy asked. "You think you can just keep laying your hands on me whenever you feel like it, you crazy ass bitch?!"
"Randy!" One of your hand was fisting his shirt, the other was trying to pry his thick fingers out of your hair. "Let go of my fucking hair, Randy!"
Randy didn't let go. He yanked your hair even tighter, forcing your chin up toward the headliner, and dipped his head straight down onto your bare neck.
He opened his mouth wide, stuck his tongue out to lick a stripe of your neck making you gasp before he bit down directly into the soft, tender flesh right over your carotid artery.
A high pitched scream tore from your throat, echoing off the wet glass windows. Your left hand moved from his shirt to his forearms.
His teeth sank deep into your skin, digging through the top layer of your skin, pressing so hard into it you felt the pressure straight down into your collarbone. He bit down like a dog on a leash, grinding his jaw, marking you, claiming you, leaving another deep, bloody, crescent shaped tear in your flesh.
"Randy! Stop! Stop it!" you gasped, your nails digging into the skin of his forearm until blood welled up under your manicured tips.
Randy kept his teeth locked into your neck for five seconds, feeling your pulse hammer wildly against his tongue, feeling you tremble beneath him in pain and overload.
Then, slowly, he released his bite.
He pulled his mouth away with a wet, sickening sound. A thin line of your blood glistened on his lower lip.
You leaned back against the steering wheel, clutching your neck with both hands, tears welling in your eyes, your entire body shaking under your dress.
The mood was completely ruined.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" you whispered, your voice raspy, trembling as you glared at him through your wet lashes. "What the actual fuck is wrong with you, Randy?"
Randy sat back in his seat, breathing heavily, resting his head against the headrest. He reached up with his thumb, wiping the tiny drop of blood off his lower lip, looking at it on his skin before dragging his eyes back to your face.
"You slapped me first," he murmured, shrugging.
You hit him in his arm just because he shrugged. "You fucking spat in my mouth!"
"…my bad. You ain’t say anything about the biting last time." he curling his lips in.
"You are fucking insane!" you yelled, grabbing your purse off the floor of the car, wanting to get out on the driver side while you’re over there. "You are literally a fucking lunatic!"
"Yeah, well, you keep coming back to the lunatic, don't you?" Randy shrugged lazily, sitting up, watching you struggle with the door handle.
He watched you for a second before he just did it for you. The car door swung open, the cold, wet night air instantly rushing inside, rain splashing against your legs and face.
You swung your legs out of the car, stepping directly out onto the wet ground, your heels splashing into a shallow puddle near the curb.
You were standing right outside his driver's side door, your hair slightly wild, your red dress pulled down over your hips, one hand clamped tightly over the bleeding bite mark on your neck.
You turned around and slammed his car door shut.
Randy rolled the driver's side window down, grabbing your attention.
He was leaning out the window, looking up at you through the rain with his arm resting on the window frame.
His expression softened a bit. That dark, crazy ass light in his eyes flickered out, replaced by a strange, and quiet, and exhausting look of regret.
"Aye. C’mere…"
"Fuck off, Randy," you gritted out, stepping back toward the curb, pulling out your phone and going to your camera to look at your neck. Your face screwed up at the sight of it. This nigga keep fucking biting you.
"Wait, baby," he murmured, reaching his hand out through the open window, his long fingers hovering in the cold air between you. "Don't...don't walk away like that."
You stopped, staring at his open hand, your jaw locked, you wanted to slap it away but also wanted to hear what he had to say (bars). "You bit me again, you fucking idiot. I'm bleeding."
Randy let out a slow, heavy breath, rubbing his forehead with his other hand. "I know," he whispered, looking up at you through his lashes. "I'm sorry. Fuck...my bad, aight? I lost my head."
You scoffed, wiping a drop of rain off your nose. "Yeah. You always lose your fucking head.“
"Come here," Randy said again, only this time he said it more clearer. "Just...come here for a second."
"No."
"Please," he murmured. "Just one second. I'm not gonna touch you crazy. I swear."
You stood there for three long seconds, cold water dripping down your shoulders, your neck throbbing.
Against every single grain of common sense you possessed, you took one step back toward the open car window and leaned down a bit.
He just reached out gently, his big, warm palm coming up to cup the side of your wet face, his thumb resting softly on your high cheekbone, wiping away a drop of rain.
"You drive me fucking crazy, you know that?" he whispered, his voice warm, gentle, and completely sincere.
“Don’t get me started.”
He leaned forward slowly, giving you all the time in the world to pull back, and pressed his lips against yours.
You could say it was the most sweetest kiss he had ever given you.
He pressed his mouth against yours, holding it there for five long seconds, taking a slow, deep breath of your scent, his thumb gently caressing your cheek.
It felt like an apology in a way…but also a trap wrapped in a pretty ribbon.
When he finally pulled back, his lips brushed softly against your chin, then down to your jaw, before his mouth rested right against the shell of your ear.
"Get in there," he whispered softly, his breath hot against your rain chilled skin. "Don’t text that nigga." He reminded you.
He pulled his hand back into the car, his eyes lingering on yours for one last second, before he reached up and hit the button to roll the window up.
You stood on the wet sidewalk, completely frozen, watching the dark glass slide up and seal him inside.
He shifted the car into drive, released the handbrake, and pulled smoothly away from the curb, his red taillights slicing through the rain as he drove off toward the campus exit.
You stood there in the rain, your red dress wet and sticking to your skin, your hand pressed against the fresh, warm bite mark on your neck as it throbbed under your touch, your lips still tingling from that fuckass kiss.
You rolled your eyes so hard your head ached, let out a long, shaky breath before you turned around, and walked up the steps into your dorm.
summary: during breakfast Randy Jr reveals the two of you have the house completely to yourselfs
contains: heavily 18+, mdni!, oral (f receiving), p in v, unprotected sex wrap yo will don’t be silly, size kink if you squint, belly bulge if you squint
notes: this is somewhat rushed..
you tossed and turned for what felt like hours
“why THE FUCK would he do that”
you thought to yourself endlessly, feeling a mix of embarrassment and aggravation
by the time morning came you were dead tired, you could assume that you only got three hours of deep sleep but the smell of something being cooked downstairs immediately woke you up
out of curiosity you put your ear on Jermajesty’s door…nothing so you cracked it open and took a peep inside…empty room and a neatly made bed
you did the same with Jaafars room door…nothing
you did the same with Randy’s room door…nothing
you thought nothing of it and shrugged it off, the smell of cooked meat was distracting you so you headed downstairs and walked into the kitchen expecting to find someone standing over the stove or food on the counter but…nothing
you turned your head and looked outside the large kitchen window to see Randy Jr standing outside on the back patio in front of the grill, shirtless and a cigar hanging out his mouth
you stood still and let your eyes helplessly tracing his bare chest and shoulders, before trailing down to his v line disappearing into his shorts
you snapped out of it, blinking your eyes as you slid the glass door open and stepped out onto the patio to join him
he looked up from the grill and blew cigar smoke in the air “morning” he said and gave you a smile
“morning” you replied, you looked around the quiet backyard. “where did the others go? they’re rooms and empty”
Randy Jr. turned a couple of sausages on the grill, then taking another puff of his cigar, letting the smoke drift away before answering
“they left out early” he said “some excursions they had planned. somewhere on a boat or the mainland, they actually won't be back until…at most tomorrow afternoon”
“tomorrow?” you repeated, a sudden wave of relief washing over you. on one hand, it meant you didn't have to face Jermajesty and the embarrassment of last night, on the other hand, it meant you were completely alone…with Randy Jr
“yeah, just you and me” he said as he turned back to the grill, picking up a clean plate from the side table. he piled it high with perfectly grilled sausages, thick-cut bacon, and a side of toasted bread he'd kept warm. “hm, you look a lil beat”
“you can tell?” you muttered, taking the warm plate from him
“a little” he chuckled, grabbing his own plate and gesturing toward the outdoor dining table. “come on, sit”
you both sat down on the comfortable patio chairs. the small talk came easily, you teased him about smoking a cigar at 10 in the morning, and he defended himself by saying there was no better pairing for grilling and he on vacation, then he asked how you were liking the house, and you kept your answers casual, somewhat pretending like last night didn’t happen..at all
as you ate, you couldn't help but notice how relaxed he was but he always had this calming effortless, grounded charm that was incredibly easy to be around.
he finished off a piece of bacon and set his fork down, leaning back in his chair. his eyes locked onto you, a thoughtful expression on his face.
“since we've got the whole place to ourselves today,” he started “what do you say to watching a movie in the cinema room downstairs later”
you looked at him, he had a lazy, confident smile on his lips, the sun catching the sharp lines of his chest. the lingering frustration from last night was still there, but looking at Randy, a very different, exciting kind of anticipation started to bloom
you took a sip of your orange juice and smiled back.
“yeah” you said softly “i’m down”
afternoon rolled around and the bright morning sun had faded into a lazy, overcast glow. after showering and changing into a fresh, comfortable set of loungewear, you headed down to the basement
the theater room was pitch-black except for the massive projection screen glowing at the front of the room. Randy was already there, he had changed into a pair of soft gray sweatpants but still shirtless
you walked in and took a seat on the large plush couch, settling down a couple of feet away from him. Randy glanced over, noticing the gap between you
“you can sit closer” he murmured “i don't bite”
you let out a little giggle at his comment as you slid across the cushions until your side was pressed right against his warm ribcage. without a second thought, Randy draped his arm over your shoulders, pulling you securely against his chest. his thumb began to slowly stroke your shoulder, sending a shiver right down your spine
as the movie played, the dark room felt increasingly intimate. the unsatisfied tension from last night with Jermajesty was still humming under your skin, making you hyper aware of Randy’s warmth and the heavy scent of his cologne
leaning into his side, your hand naturally found its way to his thigh and yu began to mindlessly rub his lap, your fingers gently tracing the soft fabric of his gray sweatpants as you focused on the screen
he didn't object, his grip on your shoulder tightening just a fraction as his thumb continued to caress your arm
but as you shifted your weight to get more comfortable, your hand slid a little too far inward
your fingers brushed directly against his lap, your palm flattening against his dick. even through the thick cotton of his sweatpants, the contact was unmistakable. he was semi-hard, and in that brief, accidental second, you caught a very clear feel of just how thick and large he was
you instantly pulled your hand back as if you'd been burned “shit- my bad i didn’t mean to do that” you stammered, now putting your hands in your lap
Randy didn’t tense up at all. he chuckled and looked down at you, his eyes full amusement
“don’t worry ‘bout it” he murmured smoothly, brushing it off as he pulled you just a little bit closer “nothing to apologize for”
as the movie continued to play, the memory of what you’d just felt in his lap was the only thing you could think about sending a pulse of heat straight to your core plus the frustration from last night was officially bubbling over, and you couldn't focus on the screen if you tried.
you shifted against his side, turning your head to look up at him. “i don't wanna watch this anymore” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.
Randy’s eyes drifted away from the screen, locking onto yours in the dim light “what do you wanna watch then?”
instead of answering, you slid out from under his arm and climbed onto his lap, straddling his thighs so you were looking directly down at him.
the change in position brought you very close together and through the thin fabric of your shorts and his sweatpants, you could feel him instantly twitch and harden beneath you
Randy’s hands instinctively came up to rest on your waist
“i don't know” you whispered, tilting your head slightly as you looked down at his lips
Randy’s eyes fluttered to your lips and back up to your face, he placed a hand on your waist, while his other hand slid up to cup the back of your neck, guiding your mouth to his
the moment your lips met, the restraint in the room completely evaporated
you let out a soft whimper into his mouth, arching your back and pressing yourself harder against his lap, your hands tangling into his short hair. Randy groaned deep in his throat, his tongue sliding past your lips and into your mouth, faintly tasting cigar from earlier
his grip on your waist tightened, his fingers digging into your hips as he began to roll his hips upward, meeting your pressure with a slow grind
the kiss grew deeper, the last of your hesitation melting away in the dark room, you let out a broken whimper, your hands moving from his hair down to his shoulders
he pulled one hand from your waist, his palm sliding up your ribcage, his thumb brushing the side of your breast through your shirt, the casual touch made your your back arching instinctively to press yourself into his hand
he tore his mouth away for a fraction of a second, immediately burying his face in the crook of your neck. he began to leave a trail of wet kisses along your jawline, his teeth nipping lightly against your skin
with his mouth busy tracing your throat, Randy’s hips rolled upward again, he met you with a slow, heavy grind that had you rubbing perfectly against his dick, even through the layers of your clothes
his hands slid down to cup your hips, his fingers digging in firmly as he guided your movements, setting a rhythm that had you whining softly
“Randy” you gasped out, your fingers digging into his shoulders
“i've got you” he rumbled, as he nipped at your collarbone, his hands sliding under the hem of your top
he pulled back just enough to look at you “would you mind…if i taste you?” he asked
your brain momentarily short circuited at the sheer boldness of his question “what?” you gasped out, your voice breathless and barely a whisper
Randy gripped your hips and gently guided you backward and back met the plush cushions of the cinema couch. Randy slid down your body, settling between your knees
his hands slid under your thighs, lifting your legs and draping them over his shoulders
“i said..i wanna taste you” he murmured, looking up at you from between your thighs
“yeah” you whispered, slowly nodded
Randy’s hands slid up your calves, gently squeezing the back of your knees to keep you relaxed and open for him.
he pulled your shorts and panties off in one swift motion “so pretty..”
he leaned down and slid his tounge inside you, making you shiver and grip the cushions beneath you. he started lapping you up, but he didn't go fast or rough, he kept it incredibly soft and slow
his tongue moved in lazy, agonizingly deliberate strokes, tasting you with a pressure that made your hips instinctively twitch upward. he traced your sensitive folds with the tip of his tongue, swirling slowly around your clit
“Randy...” you gasped, your head rolling back against the couch cushions. you arched your back, your fingers digging deep into the fabric
he let out a low, muffled groan against your pussy, he ignored your silent plea for him to go faster, deliberately keeping the rhythm torturously slow and soft
Randy leaned in deeper, his tongue flattening out as he began eating you out incredibly, really good. he knew exactly what he was doing, his tongue swirling and pressing against your clit with a perfect, heavy pressure
“oh my god... Randy” you whimpered, a broken, breathless moan escaping your lips as your eyes rolled back
hearing your reaction only seemed to drive him deeper, he gripped your hips tighter, his fingers digging into your skin to hold you perfectly still as his tongue picked up the pace, lapping at you with a heavy friction that had your entire body trembling
“right there... shit, right there” you cried out, your hands flying to his hair, tangling your fingers in the short strands to hold him close “don't stop, Randy, don't stop...”
a low muffled vibration rumbled in his chest against your inner thighs, acknowledging your praise but not slowing down for even a fraction of a second. he kept his tongue moving exactly where you wanted it, drowning you in a wave of pleasure
your hips rolled helplessly, trying to push closer to his mouth. you were so close your chest heaving as your breath came in shallow, desperate gasps
“Randy, i'm gonna...” you cried out, your voice cracking as your fingers clenched in his hair, pulling him against you
he locked his jaw and continued the current motion he was doing
your entire body went rigid. a loud, unfiltered moan released from your throat as your orgasm crashed over you in violent, pulsing waves. your thighs clamped tightly against his shoulders, your back arching completely off the couch as you rode out the orgasm
Randy stayed right there through every single pulse, his tongue continuing to lap gently at your sensitive skin, riding out the storm with you until your cries faded into ragged, trembling breaths.
slowly, your hips settled back onto the cushions. Randy slowly pulled back, his chest heaving as he took a deep breath, he sat on his knees between your legs, looking up at you, his lips were wet, his dark hair slightly messy from your fingers, and a very pleased smirk was plastered across his face
you lay there for a long moment, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath, your body still tingling from the aftershocks
Randy watched you with a quiet smug smirk on his lips softening into something much hungrier. he shifted, sliding back up the couch and sitting upright against the plush cushions. he reached down, his large hands wrapping around your waist, and easily pulled you up to sit straddling his lap once again
you looked down at him and slid your hands down his chest, tracing the sharp lines of his abs until your fingers reached the waistband of his gray sweatpants. Randy’s hands rested on your hips, watching as you slowly pushed the fabric down
his dick sprang free, fully erect, thick, and pre cum glistening at the tip. up close, seeing just how big and heavy he is made you bite your lip, you looked down at him and then back it
“you sure about this?” Randy questioned, you didn't answer with words, instead you lifted your hips, aligning your entrance with his tip
Slowly, deliberately, you began to sink down and man…he was incredibly thick, filling you out so completely that your eyes rolled back. Randy let out a deep groan, his head falling back against the couch as his eyes closed
“fuck” he muttered as you took him all the way to the base
you gripped his shoulders for leverage and began to lift yourself, starting a slow, rolling rhythm
“Randy...” you gasped out, your voice cracking as you paused for a second, your hips resting against his lap. you looked down at him, your eyes wide and glossy with tears of pleasure “s’too big”
“too big?” he tilted his hips up slightly, burying himself even deeper, making you let out a high-pitched whimper. “it’s not even in all the way”
he laid his hands flat and firm against your waist, sliding it in deeper and began to drive up into you, thrusting his hips upward with a force that had you gasping for air
you clung to his neck, burying your face in his shoulder as your moans echoed loudly in the dark theater room. the slick, wet sounds of your bodies filled the air, completely drowning out the movie still playing silently on the screen
then he suddenly slowed down
he stopped the hard, deep thrusts, instead, he kept his flush against yours, grinding his weight in slow, agonizing circles that kept his dick deeply buried inside you, twitching against your tight walls.
you let out a frustrated whine, your hips twitching on his lap, trying to force him to keep moving “fuck…keep going”
he chuckled and pushed himself deeper inside, you arched your and squeezed his shoulders
“you just said I was too big” he murmured, his voice dripping with playful tone. he slowly pulled almost all the way out, leaving just the very tip to brush against your folds “is this better? less deep?”
you let out a frustrated fake laugh and looked at him “please don’t play with me right now”
he tilted his head to the side and gave you a cocky smirk “what?” “put it back in”
“how much you want it” he teased, brushing his tip against your clit in tiny, agonizingly slow circles “ask nicely” “you’re so irritating”
he turned his head and leaned his ear closer “i’m not hearing you ask nicely” you sighed
“i want it. please, Randy” he smirked, giving you a little nod “want what?”
“i want you all the way inside me” you pouted “please Randy…i just want you to fuck me” “that's what I thought” he mumbled
his hands gripped your hips and slammed you down on him, burying his entire length back inside you in one heavy, explosive thrust
the relentless friction of his thickness stretching you open was sending wave after wave of intense pleasure straight to your core. your fingers digging deep into his back as his hips drove up to meet yours with a heavy, wet rhythm.
“fuck! Randy...it's so much!"you cried out, your voice entirely breathless and raw. “it’s so fucking big!”
“too big?" he growled, his voice dropping into a dirty, gravelly register. “i thought you could handle it…tell me how good this big dick feels inside you”
“it feels so gooood” you whined, a high-pitched whimper escaping your lips as his crown brushed your deepest spot.
he paused for a fraction of a second, keeping himself buried to the hilt, letting you feel the absolute fullness of him “tell me where you feel it. how deep is it inside you?”
trembling, you pulled one hand away from his shoulder and pressed your palm flat against your lower stomach, just above your pelvis.
you gasped, your eyes rolling back as he twitched inside you, he smirked at your reaction as a idea came to his mind
“get on your feet” you blinked down at him, your brain completely fried from the pleasure, looking at him with utter confusion. “huh?, i can't... my legs are literally shaking”
“i got you, get on your feet for me” he repeated,
completely confused but utterly at his mercy, you slowly pushed yourself up. your knees trembled violently, you slowly pushed yourself up into a standing squat, your knees bent, planting your feet flat, still completely straddling his lap
rising onto your feet meant your hips lifted, pulling you almost entirely off his dick, leaving only the very tip of him inside you.
the sudden loss of warmth made you let out a desperate, disappointed whimper but before you could even complain, Randy reached up.
his hands wrapped securely around your hips and he pulled you straight down with a sudden, powerful jerk while simultaneously driving his hips upward.
“ah—!”
the sudden change in angle forced him even deeper into you, the gravity of your own body weight burying his thick dick to an impossible depth. now you definitely felt it in your stomach
“yeah, look at you” Randy growled, looking up at you from below, his chest heaving as he stared at your completely ruined, ecstatic face.
“look at how fucking deep it is now”he held you securely by the hips as he began to pull you down and push his hips up in a relentless, vertical rhythm.
every single plunge was incredibly deep, your knees buckling with every impact as he ruthlessly claimed you from below, the wet, heavy sounds of the friction echoing loudly in the dark room
“fuck! fuck! fuck!” you screamed, your head tossing back as you clung to the back of the couch for dear life. “it's too much!“
“hold on to me” he commanded, his hands digging into your hips as he picked up the pace, his chest heaving as he rammed up into you
“take” thrust “it” thrust “all” thrust
he shifted his grip slightly, his thumbs digging into the dimples of your lower back, guiding you into a faster, more punishing rhythm. the slick, squelching sounds of your bodies colliding grew frantic, completely filled the room. the tension building so rapidly in your lower stomach that your legs began to shake violently.
“oh my god! m’so close!” you screamed, your fingers digging into his shoulders now, trying to pull him closer even as the depth of his thrusts made you want to escape.
“come on then” he commanded, his eyes burning into yours. he delivered three, four, five brutal, bottom out thrusts, his voice dropping to a desperate whisper “let me feel you cum”
you let out a broken, high-pitched moan as your walls clenched around him in a tight. the orgasm immediately hit you, snatching away all your strength.
at the feel of your tight, pulsing release, Randy lost the last of his restraint. he let out a couple of huffs, his head snapping back as he delivered one final, incredibly deep, driving thrust
be held you tightly against his hips, his body locking up as he came inside you, his thick dick pulsing deeply against your cervix as he filled you completely
for a long, breathless moment, the only sound in the theater was your matching, ragged breathing. slowly, your knees buckled completely, and Randy caught you, gently guiding you back down into his lap as you both melted into the plush cushions of the couch, tangled, exhausted, and utterly spent
hou lay across his chest for several minutes, your forehead resting in the crook of his neck as your heartbeats slowly synchronized. the heavy, lingering scent of sex and sweat enveloped you both in the quiet, dim glow of the basement screen. Randy’s hand rested gently on the middle of your back, his fingers tracing slow, soothing circles against your bare skin while he caught his breath
“you okay?” Randy murmured
“my legs hurt so fucking bad” you mumbled into his skin, your voice muffled
a quiet, chest heaving laugh vibrated against you “you were trying to tear my shoulders apart with your nails, but I'll take the credit for that”
“nigga you asked for it” you chuckled softly, wincing slightly as you shifted on his lap. rvery muscle in your legs felt like complete jelly, and the sensitive, swollen ache between your thighs was a vivid reminder of just how deep he’d been
“come on. let's get you cleaned up”
before you could offer to walk he scooped you easily into his arms, carrying you bridle style out of the theater room. you wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face against his warm collarbone as he carried you up the basement stairs and down the quiet hallway to your assigned room
he kicked your bathroom door open with his foot and set you down gently on the edge of the marble counter. while you sat there catching your bearings, Randy reached into the deep soaking tub, turning the handles to start a hot bath. he tested the water with his hand, adjusting the temperature until it was perfect
once the tub was half full, he turned around, picked you up under your arms, and carefully lowered you into the steaming water
a long, involuntary sigh of relief escaped your lips as the hot water enveloped your tired, aching muscles. you leaned your head back against the rim of the tub, closing your eyes as the warmth soothed the throbbing heat between your legs
“feel good?” he asked, leaning his bare back against the bathroom vanity and crossing his arms over his chest as he looked down at you.
“unbelievable” you whispered, opening one eye to look at him
“ood cause if I had to carry you back downstairs, I was gonna charge you a valet fee” he joked, a playful smirk tugging at his lips
you let out a soft laugh, splashing a little bit of water in his direction “you're terrible”
“I just spent the last hour giving you a full body workout" Randy chuckled, dodging the splash of water, he walked over, grabbed a bottle of bubble bath from the counter, and casually poured a generous splash under the running faucet. “besides, i think i earned some rest. though, knowing Jermajesty and the guys, they’re probably out hiking right now thinking we’re up here playing board games or something”
you giggle as you thought about the contrast between Jermajesty leaving you cold the night before and what just happened in the basement
“yeah... board games” you murmured, stirring the suds around with your toes
“tight” Randy smiled, stepping over to sit down on the closed toilet lid next to the tub so he was at eye level with you
you leaned back against the smooth porcelain of the tub, resting your arms along the rim and letting the suds swirl lazily around your shoulders. fhe steam was doing wonders for your sore muscles
“so” you started, tilting your head with a small playful smirk as you picked up a handful of bubbles “do you do this for every girl you fuck?”
Randy leaned his elbows on his knees, bringing himself closer to the edge of the tub, his eyes locking onto yours
“every girl?” he echoed, his deep voice carrying a quiet laugh “first of all, i don't just fuck ‘every girl’ and second, no, carrying someone up two flights of stairs and running a full bubble bath is premium service, you're getting the royal treatment because we’ve been friends so long”
“premium service, huh?” you teased, blowing a tiny patch of foam off your palm in his direction “do I need to leave a tip, or was the workout in the basement payment enough?”
“definitely payment enough” he chuckled, watching the foam float past him “in all seriousness though... no, i don't usually do all this but you're not just 'every girl,' are you?…plus i feel bad, your legs were shaking a lot”
the sincerity in his tone caught you off guard for a second, making your chest flutter in a way that had nothing to do with the hot water
“smooth Randy” you murmured, biting back a smile as you looked up at him through your lashes. “real smooth”
“i only speak facts” he said smoothly, leaning back with a wink. “now relax you got about twenty minutes before this water cools down, and I plan on making sure you're fully rested before the rest of the house comes back tomorrow to ruin the quiet”
🍫summary: One thing Randy will have you is FOLDED!
🍫“Dick so good, got me all in my feelings, got me forgettin’ we not relationship dealing - SupahBadd
It was a random Tuesday night, it was a late night and unfortunately you were up studying for your exams. The more you scrolled through the reviews the more you were ready to check yourself into a mental asylum.
Your eyes struggled to stay open as if they carried 10 pound bricks, your back was sore from being hunched over the screen, and if you saw the word ‘finals’ one more time, you were going to break your laptop. In the midst of your spiraling weakness, a buzz sounded from your phone, screen lighting up.
It was two in the morning so you were a bit confused but once you saw ‘R.J’ you already knew.
Randy Jr.
He was just your sneaky link, nothing crazy. You met at an off-campus party and got along well which led to a night at his apartment. You mutually agreed to keep it casual, too busy and stressed for a relationship.
You didn’t feel like dealing with someone else when you struggled to deal with yourself.
You unlocked your phone, pressing on the notification and reading,
“What you up to?”
You debated on responding, while the bright laptop screen practically yelled at you to lock back in.
Clearly your laptop didn’t scream loud enough as you picked up your phone to respond.
“Just studying, whats up?”
The grey bubbles appeared in no time.
“Can I slide?”
That damned question. If he comes over you know exactly what you’ll be up to, but you need to study. Well…you do understand most of it.
Maybe a little relief won’t be so bad…
“Come on, look at me, mama.” Randy grunted above you. Looking at him was something that felt physically impossible in that moment. Your eyes felt permanently stuck to the back of your head.
He filled you to the brim. So full that you had to remember to breathe. The way he was stuffed inside of you made your brain void of everything else. Not a single care about an exam, not a single care about the R.A down the hall, only his dick.
His fingers lightly tapped your cheek, hips still pistoning in you. The tapping brought you back for a small moment, eyes shifting forward to look at him.
“Thank you, mama. Can you keep looking at daddy?” He cooed. His palms found place on the back of your thighs, holding them down to keep you spread open for him. Your knees were damn near touching your ears, and he only pushed deeper. Absolutely folded.
You nodded—not without struggling—and attempted to keep your eyes on him. He looked heavenly from this angle, thick eyebrows furrowed, bottom lip caught between his teeth, and his biceps that naturally flexed.
He was so fine.
“Nngh—Randyyy.” You moaned, back arching against the sheets. “I know baby, you doin’ so fuckin’ good.” He swung your legs over his shoulders, leaning down into a mating press.
You could’ve lost your mind in that moment. The way his tip nudged against your g-spot had you planning a wedding in your head.
Maybe a green wedding dress? Who should be the flower girls? Big or small wedding?
You would be sick to your stomach right now, if you found out some other girl was experiencing this.
“Fuckkkk, waittt.” You cried out, hand pressing against sculpted abdomen. “Shhh, you can take it. You been stressing right?” His voice could’ve soothed you to sleep if it wasn’t for him digging you out.
“Y-yes.” You whimpered, finally getting the small reminder of your exams but that didn’t sit in your head for too long, diminishing with every stroke from Randy.
“Exactly so let me take care of you.” He delivered a soft kiss to your cheek. The tenderness made your eyes roll back, and you fought the urge to say I love you.
Good dick just does that to you.
“Randy, I’m gonna cum.” You moaned. “Yea?” He sat up, angling his hips till his tip kissed your g-spot making your legs shake. “FUCK!” You cried, palms pressing against his abdomen.
“Move.”
One simple demand that you did not bother listening to. He gathered your wrists into one hand, holding them in the air as he rolled his hips against yours.
So how should you propose to him?
“Cum for me, mama.” He said. The knot in your stomach broke, releasing and creaming all over him. He thrust you through your orgasm, refusing to take his eyes off the bliss on your face.
You clenched repeatedly around him, chest heaving from the waves of pleasure. "Mhm, keep takin' that dick." He muttered, pace not faltering. Your legs shook from overstimulation, your back arching towards him.
"You creamin' all on me, fuck!" He groaned, listening to the wet squelch of him pumping into you. You felt brain-dead at this point, body jolting with every pump, hyper-aware of the thumb stroking your thigh.
"You look so pretty, mama." Oh, he knows what he's doing. You couldn't help but clench around him practically keeping him stationary inside of you. Maybe it's a good thing you can't speak because you would have absolutely told him to nut in you. Baby trapping doesn't sound too bad right now.
Maybe he was thinking of you the same way. Probably not, but the way he's looking at you, you couldn't help but wonder.
You felt his large body weigh on you, burying his nose into the crook of your shoulder. Another ball of heat began to unravel in your stomach as you smelled his sultry, cedar wood cologne. You were quite literally covered by him, and it only made your maddening obsession worse.
You were so hyperfixated on the feeling of him thrusting and stretching you out, you didn't realize your orgasm overtook you once again. Shaking underneath him while he peppered wet, gentle kisses on the side of your neck.
At this point the only thing you were thinking is, where is the nearest ring store?
Remember that link I showed you of Randy jr shirtless?
How about a fic where the reader works at the front desk at the gym where Randy jr works out at and she has a big crush on him and she accidentally walks in on him shirtless and she gets flustered and embarrassed and apologizes but Randy jr tries to calm her down and asks her out because he already knew about her crush on him
Accidentally
Randy jr x reader
Summary: You work at the front desk of a gym, and always see Randy work out and had a huge crush on. Eventually you walk in on him shirtless.
The morning rush at Gold’s Gym had finally cleared out, leaving the lobby quiet except for the low hum of the juice bar blenders. You sat behind the front desk, resting your chin in your hand as you stared blankly at the computer monitor.
Your eyes kept drifting toward the free weight section. Randy was currently finishing his final set of shoulder presses. You had worked here for three months, and for three months, you had been infatuated with him. He was always polite, flashed you a crooked smile whenever he scanned his membership card, and possessed the kind of physique that made you forget how to speak English.
"Alright, [Name], I'm heading out for lunch," your coworker, Don, said as he grabbed his keys. "Can you do a quick sweep of the locker rooms to make sure the towel bins aren't overflowing?"
"Yeah, no problem," you replied, glad to have a distraction from your intense daydreaming. You grabbed a fresh stack of folded towels and walked down the hallway. The gym was mostly empty at this hour, so you figured the men's locker room would be completely vacant. You didn't hear any running water or movement inside, so you pushed the heavy door open without knocking.
"Hey, sorry to bother, just restocking the-"The words died in your throat. Randy was standing right by the central mirrors. He had just pulled his sweat drenched t-shirt over his head, leaving it draped over his shoulder. His back was toward you, but he instantly spun around at the sound of your voice. His chest and abs glistened slightly under the fluorescent lights.
Your face instantly turned a shade of crimson. The towels slipped from your hands, scattering across the tiled floor ."Oh my gosh! I am so, so sorry!" you squeaked, your voice jumping an octave. You threw your hands over your eyes, backing up so fast your heel hit the doorframe. "I thought everyone was out on the floor! I didn’t mean to-I’m leaving right now!"
A low, amused chuckle echoed through the tiled room. "Hey, hold on. It's totally fine, [Name]. Don't worry about it," Randy said. His voice was calm and unbothered. You kept your eyes glued strictly to the floor, your heart hammering against your ribs. "No, really I'm sorry, Randy. I should have knocked. That was so unprofessional of me."
You bent down to scoop up the dropped towels, wanting nothing more than the floor to open up and swallow you whole. As you gathered the fabric, a pair of clean sneakers appeared in your field of vision. Randy knelt down in front of you, reaching out to grab the remaining towels.
Even with your eyes focused on the floor, you couldn't help but notice his bare, toned chest just inches away from you. "Seriously, take a breath," Randy said gently, handing you the folded cotton. He didn't rush to put his shirt back on, he just looked at you with a smirk playing on his lips. "You don't need to apologize, It's a gym locker room people catch me shirtless all the time."
"Yeah, but I'm staff," you mumbled, staring intensely at his sneakers, your cheeks still burning. "I… I really didn't mean to stare." "Did you mind staring?" he teased softly. Your eyes snapped up to his face in shock. "What? No! I mean-yes? No, I mean I wasn't-"
Randy laughed again, a warm, genuine sound that defused some of your panic. He stood up, offering you a hand to help you up. You took it, his grip firm and warm. "Relax, [Name]," Randy said, leaning back against the sink counter. He crossed his arms over his chest, which only served to emphasize his biceps.
"To be honest, I'm kind of glad you walked in. It saves me from having to awkward talk my way through the front desk later." You blinked, confused. "What do you mean?"
"Don told me," Randy revealed, his smirk widening into a handsome grin. "Well, Don didn't have to say much, every time I scan my card, you look like you're trying to read a foreign language on your screen, and you always give me the extra large locker key." Your jaw dropped. You wanted to murder Don. "He… he told you?"
"He didn't have to. It's pretty obvious you have a little crush on me," Randy said, tilting his head. Before you could spiral into total mortification, his expression softened. "I've been trying to find a good time to tell you that the feeling is completely mutual." You froze, the stack of towels heavy in your arms. "Wait really?"
"Really," Randy said, stepping a bit closer. The scent of his cologne mixed with the clean scent of the gym laundry. "I think you're beautiful, you're always the best part of my workouts. So, how about we make this official? Let me take you out for dinner tonight. Get you away from the front desk for a few hours."
You looked at him, your embarrassment slowly melting away into absolute disbelief and excitement. "Dinner? With you? Even though I just crashed your locker room session?"
"Especially because of that," Randy winked, finally pulling his t-shirt back over his head. "So, what do you say? Tonight at seven?"
A genuine smile broke across your face, the blush finally fading. "Yeah, I would really love that, Randy."
"Cool, I'll write my number on a sticky note when I check out," he said, walking backward toward the showers with a satisfied grin. "See you in a few minutes, [Name]."
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