Summary: A Devil's Night party in the catacombs starts with bass and drinks, but it takes a turn when the music cuts out and an announcement is made.
Warnings: 18+ mdni, dub/con, pursuit, mentions of alcohol/drugs, strong language, vaginal fingering, p in v, unprotected sex, fem! reader
Words: 2.6k
Tune: RUNRUNRUN - Dutch Melrose
Notes: first fic on the new blog!! i'm currently re-reading DN so this was very fun to write. very quickly proofread lol! wrap it before you tap it ;) no use of y/n
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───
Devil’s Night always brought chaos, it was an understatement really, when it came to Michael, Kai, Will and Damon, they were an onslaught of pandemonium. The four of them had built a reputation over the years, the kind that lived in whispered stories and deleted posts. Every October 30th, they outdid themselves with acts that were borderline criminal, burning down houses, smashing up cars.
They called it tradition, pranks even.
Everyone else called it trouble.
So when the Horsemen announced they were throwing a party this year after the hazings, people should’ve known better. Usually, they hazed the new basketball player and then fucked off for the rest of the night, leaving carnage in their paths. What would be different this year? Why stop the pranks now?
By midnight, half the senior class had shown up, cars discarded around the old courtyard at St Killian’s. The tunnels were alive with flashing lights, bass, and laughter that carried like there was no wrong in the world. It stank of sweat, perfume and alcohol, everyone’s bodies pressed up against each other.
You were there with your friends, weaving through the crowd, drinks in hand, smoke in the air. Everyone was either dancing, high, or trying to find someone to disappear with. It felt electric, that kind of excitement that comes right before something goes wrong.
The hosts, the Horsemen, were gone. Damon, Will, Kai, Michael. One by one, they slipped out of sight until all four had vanished. The music kept going, but the mood changed. It was funny at first, a few people made jokes about what they must have planned.
Then the clock hit midnight.
The string lights along the catacomb walls snapped off, plunging the tunnels into pitch black. The music cut mid-beat. For a heartbeat, no one moved. You reached out for your friends, but every shoulder and arm you brushed felt unfamiliar.
Then a low crackle bled through the speakers overhead, followed by a voice, distorted, deep, almost unrecognisable but unmistakably Damon’s.
“I hope you’ve been stretching, ladies, because tonight’s all about the chase.”
A few people gasped. In the silent break, laughter could be heard.
“The rules are simple,” it was Kai's voice now, low and steady.
Michael finished off, “You run. The Horsemen follow, and when we catch you, you’re ours.”
Then the line went dead.
What the fuck.
You stood frozen still, the echo of his voice still crawling down your spine. Around you, people whispered, calling out for friends. Some people whooped and clapped, convinced it was part of the show. Others started to push toward the exits.
It didn’t feel like a game anymore.
────────────
The tunnels seem to close in around you, the bass thuds back to life. The first pulse rattles through the stone, slow and heavy, and the tunnels start breathing again. A cheer goes up somewhere down the corridor, half relief, half excitement. The lights don’t come back on, the faint glow of phone screens lights up the room sporadically.
Bodies move all around you, brushing past in the dark. Someone bumps your shoulder, laughing, and you catch the flash of teeth before they disappear into the crowd. People are shouting over the music now, names, jokes, the kind of nervous teasing that sounds almost brave.
“Knew they’d pull something crazy this year!” a guy yells somewhere behind you, and a chorus of laughter answers him.
A group of girls near the far wall are louder, their voices sing-song and taunting.
“Come and get me, Will!”
“ Michaelll.”
“Where are you hiding, Horsemen?”
Their laughter carries through the tunnels, there’s something hidden under it though, something serious.
The air shifts. A chill rippling down your spine. You turn, expecting to see someone, but there’s only movement. People’s shadows brushing past, faces half-lit by phone screens and burning joints. And yet, the hairs on your arms stand on end.
You tell yourself it’s the music, the adrenaline, the crush of bodies putting you on edge. You tell yourself you’re imagining it. That even if the Horsemen were serious, nobody would be coming for you. Deep down, you knew the truth.
The game had started, whether anyone else knew it or not.
You turn and run.
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The tunnels blur, you don’t know where you’re going. Every turn looks the same, the catacombs were hard enough to navigate with the lights on but in the dark? They were impossible. You reach for the wall to steady yourself, your fingers slipping on damp stone.
The laughter behind you fades, swallowed by the music. The crowd has thinned. You can hear only your breathing and another sound, footsteps, echoing behind in the dark.
You turn a corner too sharply and nearly crash into a wall. The faint glow of an exit glows ahead. The green sign feeling God sent. You push harder, lungs burning.
Then a hand snatches your wrist.
You twist, breath catching in your throat. The figure's face inches away, towering in the dark. He’s wearing a mask, black, gleaming, a twisted skull covered in scratches and gouges. It catches what little light there is, turning his face into something inhuman.
His black eyes focus on yours as he leans in close, voice low enough to make the air tremble. Slightly distorted by the mask.
“Run faster.”
Fuck.
You wrench free, the command already pulsing through your veins. You don’t look back. Feet carrying you down the narrow corridor, towards the strip of light. Behind you, the sound of his footsteps doesn’t hurry. They stay slow and certain.
You don’t stop to think until you’re already deep past the treeline, St Killian's long gone behind you. The forest swallows the sound of the party, replacing it with the rustle of wind against the trees. The October air is biting, whipping against your cheeks as you run.
You keep running, the path breaking apart beneath you into roots and mud. Branches catch at your sleeves, snag your hair, drag against your skin. The moonlight filters through the trees in narrow, shifting bands, never guiding enough to show you where to run. Every few strides you glance over your shoulder, but there’s only darkness.
The forest plays tricks on you, small sounds mixing with your ragged breathing until you don’t know what noises are real and what’s in your head. For a while you can almost believe you’ve lost him. You slow to a jog, then to a walk, pressing a hand against your ribs. For a second, it all feels calm.
A sound breaks it, soft, tantalising, a single step on wet leaves.
You freeze.
Shit, shit, shit
It comes again, closer this time. You turn, searching the darkness, but the forest gives you nothing back. No figure to follow. No movement at all.
Then a voice drifts through the trees low and amused. “Getting tired already?”
The sound of his voice hits harder than the words. That lazy drawl, smooth, taunting, always lined with pointed laughter. You’d known the mask in the catacombs was Damon’s, you’d recognised it from previous years. But part of you had hoped it was someone else fucking around.
Now there’s no question.
You think back, the mask, black and gleaming, scratched and gouged, the way he’d tilted his head before speaking.
And then you hear it, the faint jingle of metal, the chain on his jeans brushing against his ring when he moves.
Your stomach drops. You can’t see him, but the tone and volume makes it clear he isn’t far away.
Another step.
“You were faster in the tunnels.”
You don’t wait to hear more. You start running again. The forest tilts downhill and you follow the slope, half sliding, half falling, the ground slick beneath your shoes. Mist curls at the bottom, where the ground starts to level out again. You catch yourself on a trunk, bark biting into your palms, and push off again.
Somewhere above you, a whistle cuts through the air, it’s short and mocking.
“Go on,” he calls, voice bouncing through the trees. “Don’t stop now.”
You break through a tangle of bracken and nettles, stumbling into a narrow clearing, there’s less trees here, letting the moonlight light up the small space. For a second everything is still and then there’s movement behind you.
You spin and he’s there.
────────────
He doesn’t say anything. He stands in the opening, just past the nettles. The moonlight catching on the marks of his mask. For a moment neither of you move. You can hear the blood in your veins, the soft drag of his boots through the leaves as he takes one step forward, then another.
You draw in a shaky breath.
He tilts his head the way he had in the tunnels, like he was sizing you up. When he speaks, the distortion from the mask turns his voice low and rough. “I thought you’d make it a little farther.”
You swallow hard. “Why me?”
He stops close enough that you can see your own reflection in his eyes.
“Because everyone else runs to us,” he says. “You run from us.”
A pause, then softer, “From me.”
You can’t tell if it’s amusement or challenge, but the certainty in his tone makes your stomach twist.
You take a step back. He matches it. The forest seems to shrink around you, the air charging with something strange.
“You never play along,” he says. “All those nights, all those parties… You look at me like I’m something you can ignore.”
He pauses finally, giving a casual shrug, a small movement that catches the light on his shoulder. “Or maybe I just wanted to see how fast the quiet ones can run.”
You hold his gaze. The breath you drag in feels like glass in your throat.
His boots crunch the wet leaves under his feet. He begins to move, slow, a step to the side, then another, forcing you to turn with him to keep him in sight. The forest floor crackles under his weight.
You realise he’s circling you.
The mask glows whenever the moonlight touches it. You try to stand your ground, but every time you shift, he mirrors you, tightening the ring between you.
“Stop,” you manage, but it comes out thinner than you mean it to.
He keeps moving. “Why would I do that?”
You take a step back, and your shoulders meet rough bark. The tree behind you ends his little game.
He stops a few paces away, the mask tilted, unreadable.
“You know you were never going to get away.”
────────────
He yanks off the mask, tossing it aside into the overgrown grass. It lands with a soft thud, forgotten, eyes wild, jaw set.
God, he looked like he was going to eat you alive.
The silver rings on his fingers glint as he flexes his hand, taking another step closer. Fear coils tight in your gut, but so does something else, stirred by the way he's looked at you all year. You think of all the times that your eyes have locked, like you've been the only thing keeping his fractured mind from shattering completely.
You hadn’t even realised.
Damon closes the gap with one stride. His body crowding yours, heat radiating off him. His hands reach for your face. He cups your cheeks roughly, rings cold, thumbs digging in just enough to tilt your head up, forcing you to meet his gaze.
“Been chasing you forever,” he mutters, voice low and cracked, like the words have been bottled up too long. “In my head. Every fucking night.”
You swallow hard, mouth dry and his lips crash down on yours. The kiss is bruising, all demand and teeth, his tongue forcing its way in to claim every inch of your mouth. He tastes like chaos. Cigarettes mixed with vodka, and something else utterly obscene.
One hand slides to the back of your neck, holding you in place, while the other grips your hip, yanking you flush against him. You feel his cock, straining through his jeans, pressing into your stomach.
“Damon..” you gasp.
He silences you, nipping at your jawline hard enough to sting. His rings scrape lightly against your skin as he shoves your shirt up, exposing your bra to the cold air. Goosebumps litter your skin, his palm comes up to cover your tit, squeezing firmly, fingers pinching your nipple until it peaks under the lace.
Fuck.
You try hard not to give in, but your back arches, a soft whine escaping your lips. He chuckles darkly, the sound vibrating against your throat as he drags his mouth down to suck at your pulse.
“Don't fight it,” he rasps, free hand gliding down to your jeans, popping the button and shoving them and your panties down your legs in one rough motion. The fabric snags on the bark, pooling at your ankles, leaving your pussy bare and exposed. The cold air hits your slick folds, and you clench involuntarily, heat flooding your face. He's watching like he's starving.
His fingers reach between your legs, stroking through the wetness. You're soaked, body betraying your mind and he groans, low and broken, circling your clit with his thumb. "Fuck, you're dripping. Knew you were into this." Two fingers thrust inside, curling to hit that spot. The cool metal of his rings slides against your walls with each pump. Your hips jerk, chasing the pressure even as your hands push against his chest, struggling to bite back a moan.
He pumps faster, thumb circling your clit, his mouth back on yours in a messy clash.
His body pins you harder to the tree. “Come on my fingers,” he demands against your lips. “Please. Let me feel you break.” The coil snaps hard, orgasm ripping through you as your walls clamp down on his fingers. You cry out, shuddering, clutching at the fabric covering his chest.
He lifts you then, strong arms hooking under your thighs, hoisting you up against the tree. Your legs wrap around his waist instinctively, as he grinds his clothed cock against your core. Foreheads press together in the haze, his breath mingling with yours, eyes locked, vulnerability cracking through the roughness for a split second, showing just how long he’s yearned for this.
He doesn't give you time to recover. With one hand bracing you, the other unzips his jeans, freeing his cock from his boxers. It’s thick, veined, tip slick with pre-cum. He rubs it over your clit before notching it at your entrance, slamming up into you. The stretch burns, heavy and overwhelming, your back scraping the tree as he sets a brutal pace. Your hands grip the back of his shoulders, a shuddering gasp escaping your lips. Each thrust drives deep, his hips snapping with possessive force. “Mine,” he grunts, rings digging into your thigh as he holds you up. “Always been mine.”
You cling to him, nails raking across the skin of his neck. His face stays close, foreheads bumping with every thrust. That pressure builds again, faster this time, your pussy fluttering around his cock. “That's it,” he murmurs, voice strained. “Come for me. Need to feel it.”
You shatter in his arms, walls pulsing tight, foreheads resting heavy together as waves crash over you. He slows just enough to draw it out, but he doesn’t stop.
“Where do you want it?” he asks, thrusts erratic, breath hot on your skin. His eyes search yours desperately.
“Inside,” you whisper, the word slipping out between the aftershocks.
He buries his face in your neck with a shattered moan, hips stuttering as he slams into you, one last time. Hot spurts fill you, his cock throbbing, body trembling against yours as he rides it out.
He eases you down slowly, cum leaking down your thigh as your feet touch ground. His hands linger on your hips, rings cool against flushed skin, before he steps back, zipping himself up. That smirk tugs at his lips, but it's softer now.
“Next year, run faster,” he says, voice low. “Or don't. I liked the chase.”
He presses a kiss to your forehead, lingering a second too long, before grabbing his mask and melting back into the trees. Leaving you breathless, marked, and craving him.
MADRINHAAAAAAAAA MAIS LINDA DESSE MUNDO! 💖✨ (((tinha esquecido de vir aqui bater na sua janela, mas olha eu aqui FINALMENTE, pq o meu coração nao aguentou de tanto glamour! e vou hablar: senti uma pontinha de inveja da pack da kai kai 👀🤚🏻, ficou o redevu mais aclamadoh da minha vida!!! 😭💓💞👀🩷💖💗POR YSSOOO, minha soberana, vc poderia fazer iquinhos do seu genro, por favorzuxo, com todo aquele seu toque de loba que só vc tem? 🐺🔮 oh, pode levar o tempo que vc precisar, tah? sua saúde, seu descanso e o seu bronzeado de milhões em primeiríssimo lugar, pq o seu bem-estar é o que mais importa para mim DEPOIS a genty fecha juntinho com todo o seu talento TE AMOOORRR MUITOOOOOO, minha madrinha! muito axé e luz na sua vida, hojy e sempre! 👑🥰💖✨🩷🩷🩷💗💗💗
Você pediu e chegou, filhotuxa!!! 🥺🥺💟💟💟 Fiquei tão feliz com sua ask, amo fazer iquinhos pra você!! Fiz com muito amor e carinho pra minha princesa! Você merece!! 😍😍🥰🥰🥰💖💖💖💖
