Randy (the Intern) Solo x f!Reader
Word Count: 1,692
Warnings: knife kink, blood kink, semi-public sex, dressing room sex, PIV sex, hair pulling, hint of some dirty talk, hint of a daddy kink, randy’s an awkward baby, mentions of Randy keeping a bloody dress
Notes: PSA, I’ve never been to a Marshall’s. We don’t have them where I live, so this is purely speculation as to if they have dressing rooms or not lmao. Also, I blame y’all for this.
Three weeks ago, the pocket knife Randy uses for work breaks cutting through a thick piece of plastic. He’s had it for years, it really had seen better days, but he still feels the loss as a burden. That is, until his princess has one sitting on his bedside table three days later. It’s pretty and simple, a stainless steel blade with a rich rosewood handle. He knows she spent a pretty penny on it, and he thanks her with a kiss on the forehead as she sips her morning tea, sliding it into his pocket.
And for three weeks, Randy has felt that heavy thud against his thigh. Every time he pulls it out, feels the weight in his hand, he thinks about you. How you look so pretty with your arms above your head, back arched, and cuts on your ribs. How he can drag his fingers down to your hips and leave a pretty red trail in their wake. He thinks about the dagger he keeps in the bedside drawer, the one you trusted him with. the one the two of you worked so hard to be okay using on the delicate landscape of your body. Randy trusts himself now, and he lets those thoughts swarm in his head every time he holds the one sitting in his pocket.
You’ve got him in the middle of a Marshalls, wandering down aisle after aisle of decor and furnishings. You’ve picked out a decorative chair, a yellow blanket— that Randy loves as well— and new throw pillows. And next up, Randy watches you browse through the sundresses. And there’s definitely a few he wishes he could see you in— sink those pretty thighs, littered in scars he’s created, down onto him. the fabric would bunch you at your waist. He’s adjusting the blanket and pillows he’s holding in front of him, covering up the bulge in his jeans.
You smile at him, holding up a pretty white sundress with bell sleeves. “Do you like this one?”
Randy nods, “yeah, it looks nice.” He thinks he’d like to see it pushed up your back, bent over at the waist with a fistful of your hair in his hand. and Randy hatches an idea. “do you wanna try it on?” he asks softly.
and maybe it’s the way he shifts his weight, or the flick of his head to get those loose strands of hair out of his eyes, but you can see his gears turning— and you’re more than happy to oblige. “yeah, maybe i can find a corset to go with it real quick?” you offer, watching as the breath hitches in his throat.
“yeah, yeah, sure.” he replies, following you around as you find the back of the intimates, picking out a pretty white corset with pale blue flowers in your size before you’re leading Randy back to the dressing rooms. He can feel that thud thud thud, with each step he takes and knows that rosewood handle would feel so good in his hand. How the blade would slice your skin with such ease, he could compare it to cutting butter. “There’s no one back here.” he points out, upon seeing the dressing room attendant was nowhere in sight with four empty dressing rooms.
You roll your eyes, pushing into one of the stalls to try on your items, maybe dolling up your hair just a bit before you open the door to look at him again. Randy is nervously waiting, pacing, tapping his foot, working up the courage to go inside. He places the home items you’d selected earlier in the day on the bench, right before he hears the door open. You smile at him, dressed in the sundress and corset. You haven’t tied it up and Randy swallows hard. He can see the pink underwear you’re wearing through that thin white fabric. You spin for him, smiling as you watch his eyes rake down your body and back up again. And he’s shoving his hands into his pockets. “i think you should get it.” he says, with every ounce of sincerity that he has.
“Alright, if daddy says so.” You wink at him, prompting his fast glance around the area and three quick strides to you— jerking his hand out of his pocket with the knife under his fingertips. He’s kicking the door of the dressing room closed, but not hard enough to cause any sort of attention. Your front is pressed up against the mirror, as he reaches back with his left hand to flip the lock on the door. the blade of his little pocketknife is pressing against your throat. You can see the way Randy’s eyes fall down to where it connects with your skin, and you know exactly how he wants to play.
“Princess… you dunno how long i’ve wanted to do this.” he whispers, pressing a kiss on your bare shoulder. his heart is pounding just as fast as yours is and you can feel the knife digging into your throat.
“Careful, Ran.” you remind him. you trust him, more than anything. but you know how he is, and you know all caution goes to the wind as soon as he sees those little beads pebbling up. Randy’s body shifts a little behind you, you can feel the bulge in his jeans pressing towards your backside just a little harder, the hand that isn’t worried about the pocketknife is roaming up your body, dragging your sundress up with it. He’s grabbing your hand and pushing it up against the glass of the mirror.
You can see every move he makes, watch how much care he takes and how his body moves. His hands are shaky. His words are quiet. Randy’s never been one for dirty talk, but you hear him whisper, “I’m gonna fuck you until you can’t think straight.” and the moan that radiates from your chest, vibrates the blade pressed to your skin. and Randy knows for certain he’s going to lose his mind. His free hand is working his belt loose and he’s flicking loose hair out of his eyes. His hand, still heavy with the rosewood handle, presses further into you— cuts you deeper than he’s intending, but not far enough to cause any real damage— blood starts dripping, starts rolling down your neck.
Randy’s spitting on his hand, slicking himself up. Hoping he doesn’t hurt you too bad. And he’s rucking up the back of the sundress, pulling those pink panties he can see through the white fabric over just enough. Maybe you put on a show, bending down as far as you can in the position he’s got you in. Your tits are pressed up against the mirror, making a quaint little valley for the blood from the cut to pool on. The neckline of the dress is now soaked in red and Randy’s gonna buy it and stash it away for later.
He’s pushing into you, quietly, slowly, letting you feel every fucking inch of him. You breathe out slowly, adjusting to the intrusion as he tangles his hand into a fistful of your hair, tugging your head back to him as he thrusts his hips into you. He kisses along your jaw, begging you to stay quiet as he pushes the knife into you a little deeper and you have to remind him to pick a new spot.
He’s dragging that knife down your chest, leaving a burning trail behind as a new bead of blood rises to the surface. Two pretty slits across each of your tits as he fucks into you harder, harder. And Randy thinks he could press the handle against that pretty little clit of yours, let you desperately grind against it, make you cum from his cock and his knife. He presses a kiss against your neck, hand letting go of your hair to push one of your thighs forward. to give him more room as he drops the knife down under your dress, holding it by the blade. He drags it over your clit slowly and has half a mind to push it into you next to his cock. He tries to keep his composure, not to get too greedy. Trying to finish you both off before anyone comes back and hears what you two are doing.
And all it takes for that pit in his stomach to ache and burn, drawing his balls up so high and ready to dump the cum he’s been wanting to for weeks into you, is the way you look at him in the mirror, maybe the little smear of blood that winds up on the glass. The top of that white sundress isn’t so white anymore and he worries for just a second that he cut you too deep, that is, before he’s cumming into you with a low groan— face buried against your shoulder.
and you’re holding onto him, breathing heavily as he presses that hilt against your clit once more, giving you inch after inch when you’re searching for a mile. and he drops the knife with a clank to the ground, blood spattering just a little as he replaces the hilt with his fingers— rubbing that little bud into the stiffest peak until you’re cumming hard on his cock. The two of you are breathless, bodies still connected. Randy’s the first to make a move, nerves flooding back to him, afraid someone will find you both.
The cleanup is easy, you just use the sundress. And it’s not hard to find a couple of bandaids in Randy’s pockets to cover the cut on your neck. And maybe Randy offers you his hoodie, that way the cuts on your tits get covered too.
And Randy is just a little embarrassed at the checkout counter, when you scan the sundress at the self checkout— knowing he’s going to put it in the shoebox under your bed and jerk off with it the next time you’re away. But you wink at him, place your bags in the back of his Sonata and smile, “let’s get something to eat, shall we?”
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