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#ghostface au
tyunphoria · 8 months
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🌪️it’s a scream, BABY ! — h.js
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⚠️NSFW CONTENT⚠️
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ghostface!han jisung x reader
SYPNOSIS: when you thought you finally escaped that psycho who calls himself ghostface . . . think again. he always finds you.
INCLUDES: AFAB reader, ex!bf han jisung, pet names (baby, sweetheart, etc.), slight angst near the end if you squint, SMUTTT, aftercare, ngl kinda rushed oops.
WARNINGS: obsessive behaviour, threatening, mentions of death and murders, han having slight yandere tendencies, DOM!han, fingering, hair pulling, dacryphilia, praise, implied voice kink, knife play, fear play, finger-sucking, rough sex ig idk, begging.
wc: 3.7k
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You approach the front door with relief, the aches in your feet swelling after a long day. "I'm home," you call out wearily.
Silence responds. No clattering of dishes from the kitchen, no muffled music from upstairs. Just the low whine of machinery emanating from somewhere.
Frowning, you kick off your heels, biting your lip against the sting of fresh blisters forming at the back of your ankles. Your shoulders slump as you drop onto the couch, its faded pattern doing little to lift your spirits.
Wincing, you massage the ache from your feet, inspecting the angry skin stretched tight over your swollen heels. Exhaustion seeps into your bones as the steady hum of the fan fades into the background. You lean your head back, eyes drifting shut against the gathering gloom. Slipping off your shoes was the first victory of what promises to be a long night ahead.
Laundry, mopping the floor, cleaning out the cupboards; fuck it, that can wait till tomorrow morning.
Sliding the uniform jacket from your shoulders, you sigh with the release of tension. The cool air hits your skin as you unbutton your work blouse, revealing a tank top beneath.
You adjust your skirt, glad to be free of the restrictive waistband and back into casual clothes. Glancing at the clock, you let out a sigh. Your roommate must be still working out late again. So much for a promised and well deserved girl’s night.
For now, though, you tune out the noise and settle further into the couch. Remote in hand, you aimlessly scroll through TV options in search of a mindless distraction. Anything to pull your exhausted mind from the drudgery of the day.
2 years, you frown.
It’s been two years since you’ve moved to seoul after the ghostface attacks from your hometown. You were lucky enough to survive, but the price of your survival was steep. It entailed enduring the loss of friends and family.
Till this day, it’s still a mystery as to who the killer was. Rather, killers as some people theorize.
But you know who he is.
You knew ghostface all too well.
How could you not ? He was the man you once loved and cared for. Until he went batshit insane and claimed to only be doing what’s best for the both of you by killing anyone who came in between your relationship.
You can’t tell the police. You can’t tell anyone. If his name happens to get leaked in the public, you’re the first person he’d go for.
“Stop thinking about him,” you groan, rubbing your temples. He’s probably dead in a ditch somewhere, why stress over it ? You settle on the news channel instead as you slump further into the couch.
“We interrupt your regular programming with breaking news. This is Lee Dae-suk reporting live from the scene. Just moments ago, authorities received a distress call by a janitor from HYBE Co.” you quickly sit up from your seat as you hear these words. That’s where you worked . . .
“Upon arrival, they discovered a chilling scene that has left investigators and the community in shock,” the reporter continues on with how there were two victims from your workplace suffering from injury and were rushed to the er, and the other two were found dead. “. . . the initials G.F. were carved on their chests. Detectives suspect that this traces back to the ghostface attacks of 2021 in [hometown]. We advise all citizens of seoul to be on high alert for potential suspects. Law enforcement officials advises everyone to stay indoors no longer than nine.
We will keep our viewers informed as this case unfolds. We now return to your regular scheduled programming brought to you by—“
You grab the remote and quickly shut off the tv.
“Shit, please f/n, answer your phone,” you gnaw on your nails whilst pacing around the living room. If this is the same ghostface, he must’ve followed you. It would be all your fault for leading him here. The thought makes you sick.
You dial her number again with shaking hands, desperate for an answer.
“Hey—“
“F/n!”
“you’ve reached f/n’s voice mail ! i’ll call you back when—“
“Fuck !” You exclaimed, throwing your phone onto the couch in frustration. The worry and fear is eating you alive. You try calling again and again, each unanswered ring twisting the knot of anxiety in your stomach tighter. With a sigh of defeat, you finally slump down on the couch, cradling your head in your hands.
"She'll be fine...she has to be fine," you say quietly to yourself, taking a slow, steadying breath. But before you can fully calm your racing mind, your phone suddenly rings, the sound jolting through you. Your heart leaps into your throat as you don’t bother checking the caller ID before picking it up with trembling hands.
“Hello ? F/n ?”
- “hey, baby.”
replied a deep, gravelly, modulated voice.
- “miss me ?”
Your breath hitched as you froze. A shiver ran down your spine as your eyes flicker to the open blinds.
“Ghostface.” You acknowledge. From the other line, you could hear him click his tongue in disapproval.
- “I prefer the nickname ‘darling’.”
“What the fuck do you want, Jisung ?” You tried not to show any signs of fear but the slight tremble in your voice says so otherwise.
“What ? Aren’t you gonna go ask me what my favourite scary movie is ?” You made your way in the kitchen as your hand inched to grab a knife.
- “I have a better question. Do you like games, y/n ?”
You pass your index finger between the various knives on the rack, fingers wrapping around the biggest handle.
“Fuck you.”
Jisung can be heard chuckling. His laugh made your stomach twist. What sick bastard thinks all of this is just a game ?
- “Even with that knife in your hand, you’re still as beautiful as ever. And the look of fear in your face ? It’s fucking hot, baby . . .”
You feel your heart starting to race as you flinch and turn around, all your senses now activated.
- “Tell me, are you gonna stab poor ol’ ghostface with that knife ? You aren’t any better from me, y/n.”
He was taunting you and you knew that.
You end the call after telling him that he could go fuck himself before rushing over to the windows and locking them shut. Same goes for the door as well while you clutch the edge of the dinner table as if your body were threatening to collapse.
The phone vibrates in your hand, except this time it wasn’t a call but a notification from the unknown number.
Your hands begin to shake once again as you huff and puff to regain composure, clicking on the notification to reveal a video.
A video of f/n entering her car.
You jumped at another vibration. He’s trying to call you again. The whole situation was frustrating — not only were you scared as shit, also a bit agitated with how he wasn’t just threatening you but your loved ones as well.
You peer down the halls, silently peeking at every room. When you finally accept the call, your heart drops at his words.
- “Hang up on me again, I dare you. I’ll mail this bitch’s head at your door, don’t fucking test me, y/n.”
The violence of his threat burned your eyes but you had no choice but to swallow back your tears. You’d just have to listen, so no one else got hurt. You can’t bear losing anyone—not again . .
“Jisung,” you close your eyes as a shuddered breath escapes your lips. “I’ll listen. I’ll do anything you want, okay ? Just please, don’t hurt anyone.”
He slightly softens at your pleas. Jisung still loves you, with all his heart and he wishes for nothing more than to go back to how things used to be. But he knew better than that, he's already far too deep to return with how he used to be.
- “Such a good girl for me . . . See how easy it is to obey ?”
Despite the fear, you cursed at the way he still had an affect on you. Somewhere in him, it’s still the same Han Jisung you’ve grown to love. The feelings you’ve stored away after all these years were beginning to resurface, and you were ashamed to admit it.
- “hm, what game, what game . . . Have you ever heard of the game hot and cold ?”
You nod, clutching the phone tighter. Words were stuck in your throat and you knew he could see you though he seemed to be dissatisfied.
- “Use your words, beautiful.”
His nicknames are starting to trigger a reaction that you hadn’t expected and felt so guilty. Heat spreads through your body, and shamefully enough, between your legs.
“I have,” you stammer.
- “Alright. Here’s the deal; find me and all of this’ll be over. I’ll leave you alone. Sounds like a plan ?” It seems all too good to be true. Find him and then what ? Will you have to just trust his word and believe that you’ll be finally left alone ?
- “Better start looking, I’m getting impatient here, princess.”
After a few minutes, neither of you spoke. The silence is weighing heavily down on your shoulders. The thought of not knowing where he is and him being able to pop out and slice you at any moment now increased your degree of fear. You walk out of the living room and open your roommate’s door, switching the light on.
- “cold.”
You grumble in response and made your way to your own bed room, eyes landing on the doors of your closet. Hands inching closer to the handles, you hear his breathing become more erratic making you pause.
- “Why’d you stop, baby ? Perhaps I’m in there.”
Your hands trembled as you grab the handles of your closet and pulled it wide open with eyes closed. To your surprise, he wasn’t there.
- “keep looking, sweetheart.” He laughs tauntingly. “Remember, this isn’t some cliche horror movie. The closet, really ?”
- “What's next ? The basement ?”
“Fuck you !” You didn’t wanna play this game anymore. By the time you found him, you’d be dead from a heart attack.
You exit your room and keep walking.
- “still cold.”
Sighing in annoyance, you head for the opposite direction, about to pass the bathroom till he spoke.
- “warmer.”
Taking a deep breath, the door creaks open as you step inside, flicking the light switch on. You inch closer to the shower curtain, letting out a tiny whimper.
- “You’re getting so warm. Very good, baby.”
You never had a thing for praise till now and let me just say that shit made your knees buckle. You wish you could just tell him to stop messing with you, the whole situation itself was already confusing enough.
- “Now you’re boiling.”
You grip the shower curtain and throw it open.
Nothing.
Absolutely, nothing.
“Bastard,” you groan. “Show yourself, asshole ! I’ll beat the shit out of you !“
- “hey now, no need to get violent. Keep talking to me like that and I’ll fuck that attitude out of you,” han spat.
“I’m done with your shit. Grow a pair and come at me, why don’t you ?” You held your phone tightly in your hand you could’ve crushed it. You head to the kitchen and grab a glass of water to soothe your dry throat. You laugh in realization, “I doubt you’re even here. God, I’m so stupid. I can’t believe I fell for it. How else could you send the video if her work’s like miles and miles away ?”
- “you asked for it. No backing out, ‘kay babe ?”
You pause. “What ?”
You immediately drop the glass along with your phone as a gloved hand reaches from behind to clasp over your mouth. Letting out a muffled scream, you thrash in his grasp, reaching to grab the knife from the counter but his free hand swiftly takes hold of both of your wrists and binding them behind your back as the masked man hunches you over the counter.
“Surprise, y/n.”
Tears blur your vision with your screams and whimpers getting muffled by jisung’s glove. He lets go, giving you some time to catch your breath.
“Let go, jisung !”
He inhales audibly, bringing you tight against him. “Scared, sweetheart ? I know you want this as much as I do . . . Think I didn’t notice the way you were practically soaking wet with just my voice ?” His hips push forward and the massive shape of his hard cock makes you weak. “Such a naughty, naughty girl.”
The unwelcome throb between your legs is spreading through your abdomen. A moan threatens to leave your mouth but you manage to bite your lip. His hand inches lower, slipping through the waistband of your shorts, clenching your thighs to refrain from giving him access.
“Open those legs for me, pretty girl,” he clicks his tongue, getting impatient.
“Burn in hell.”
With that little comment, he rips off your shorts along with your lacy panties. A new complaint comes from the back of your throat and you start to squirm and thrash again, unconsciously moving your ass against his clothed cock to push him away.
He snickers, keeping you pinned on the counter. “Impatient, are we ?” He lifts his robe and tugs his sweatpants down. Han jerks you back against him, pulling you off the counter and holding you tight against his hard dick.
“I missed you,” he rips his mask off, trailing kissing along your neck while he taps the flat of the knife against your cheek. “So fucking much . . .”
“What do you want ?” You gulp, melting in his tight embrace. God, you missed this. You missed him.
“You.” He rolls his eyes, “thought it was pretty obvious, but guess i have to spell it out.”
Han lightly trails the tip of the knife down your cleavage and stomach, applying more pressure afterwards to slice your tank top open. The cold air hitting your hardened nipples and the knife lightly dragging along your breasts made you gasp and arch your back against him.
He teases your cunt with the handle, dragging the object along your folds as he circles your clit with it. “Like that, sweetheart ?”
You moan as he smiles at the cry he drew from you.
“Use your words, baby,”
You took a shaky breath, hips swaying. “Fuck you, han jisung.”
He plasters on an amused smile as he shoves the handle in your cunt.
“I really gotta fix that nasty attitude of yours.” He says, taking his glove off.
He replaces the handle with his fingers, gently curling them as he moves it in and out your sopping pussy. You draw out a long whine, legs trembling and you could barely keep yourself up. “Oh god…. Fuck, jisung….”
The cute noises you were making encourages him to keep going as he picks up the pace, thrusting his fingers harder and deeper.
His other hand reaches up and closes his fist around your throat, scissoring his fingers inside of you. You’re reaching for logic, for dignity, but everywhere there’s only him.
Your moans were getting louder and louder at each plunge of his fingers, deciding ‘fuck it’ since it felt too good to stop now. His thumb pressed your clit in a delicious way which brought a familiar sensation in your lower belly. The coil in your stomach tightens painfully.
Han grins at this, knowing you were close.
He purposely pulls his fingers out before your release, suddenly feeling empty as a long string of curses and whines spill from your lips.
“Seriously ? Literally what the fuck—“
Han silences you by pushing the two fingers into your mouth.
His fingers skillfully venture deeper into your throat. The slight pressure causes you to choke momentarily, a mix of vulnerability and exhilaration flooding your senses. Your lips form a tight seal around his fingers, tongue swirling and sucking on them as the primal desire to please him fuels your actions while you greedily lapped your tongue.
His mouth, warm and eager, delicately explored the tender flesh of your neck beneath his lips. The sensation sends shivers down your spine, breath hitching in anticipation as he lines himself up against your entrance.
Moaning, you can’t help but impatiently grind against him
“What’s wrong baby ?” Han releases his fingers from your mouth as you gasp for air. “want my cock instead ?”
You nod eagerly.
His grip on your hip tightens as he tugs your hair back, eliciting a curt hiss from your hips. “Words, y/n.”
“Yes . . Please, I want you so bad, please fuck me.”
“Good girl.” He wastes no time sheathing and snapping himself inside of you, his thrust knocking the wind out of your lungs. He swears quietly, feeling how soft your walls were pulsing around him — warm and perfect, everything he missed over the past few years. You choke on your words, eyes fogging with tears as you slur out random sentences.
He grunts, starting off slow. “Thought I stretched you out pretty good but you’re still so goddamn tight. When was the last time you fucked someone, pretty baby ?”
Han deepens his strokes but keeps a teasingly slow pace. “Pl—Please, Jisung-ah …. go faster.” You sniffle, pathetically begging for his cock at this point. It hurt too much. You needed him more than ever.
“Where's the girl who was telling me to burn in hell a couple of minutes ago ?” He laughs and grabs your jaw to turn and face him, “you look better so needy for me like that . . Now, answer my question.” A groan leaves your mouth as his grip gets tighter.
“Since you left !” You sob as he rocks his hips faster, quickly fucking into your heat. “I haven’t found anyone as good as you, jisung-ah—“
He grins, roughly pinning you down on the counter. It was the answer he exactly wanted to hear.
You gasp as he hits a particularly sensitive spot, beginning to see stars as he brings a hand around to the front, running a finger against your swollen clit.
Moving inside of you at a nearly brutal pace, as you feel your release come closer and closer. He feels it too with the way you tighten around him. “M’cumming,” you whine, but he doesn’t stop. Then you came, walls clenching around him as he fucked you through your orgasm. Your legs tremble under the intensity, tapping on his arm for him to let you breathe for a second.
His hands grab your waist and uses it as leverage to thrust into you, leaving you little to no time to at least catch your breath. You try to speak but another one of his hard thrusts trigger a loud moan.
“Doing so well for me, baby. Think you can cum a second time ?” You moan brokenly, unable to respond. Your tongue hangs from your swollen lips and your throat feels dry. You never expected being fucked silly by the one and only han jisung ever again but here we are. You feel selfish for not wanting it to end and for wanting to be with him again.
He pulls you up and flips you around, hungrily smashing his lips against yours as if he’s been waiting to finally taste and have you all to himself for decades.
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“I hate you,” you groan as he lays you down on the soft mattress of your bed. “so fucking much.” Han only ever grins in response as he wipes away the cum trickling down your inner thighs.
You can barely move. You can’t even twitch a single finger.
Your limbs were sore and it was all his fault.
Summoning the last ounce of strength within you, you deliver a knee to his abdomen, eliciting a deep grunt from his lips. A look of mild annoyance crosses his face as he settles down beside you, encircling your waist with his strong arm. He presses his face into the soft curve of your neck, his fingertips tracing soothing circles along the tender flesh of your thighs.
“I missed you,”
“I know.”
“I’m sorry.”
You didn’t respond to that.
Suddenly, your lips meet in a sweet collision, a mingling of desire and longing. The taste of anticipation linger on your tongues as Han’s kisses began soft and tender, gentle brushes of lips that convey a depth of emotion words could never capture. With each meeting of your mouths, your passion ignites, growing more fervent, more urgent.
His hand cradles your cheek, his thumb tracing the curve of your jawline, while your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, deepening the ardor of your embrace. Your mouths moved in perfect synchronicity, exploring and claiming, as if they were trying to memorize every contour, every taste.
The moment is abruptly shattered by the piercing wail of police sirens echoing just outside the house. Panic grips your heart, forcing you to acknowledge the harsh reality that the person you love is still a criminal; a killer.
With a heavy sigh, he gently drapes the covers over your form, shielding you from the impending chaos. Reluctantly, he pulls himself away, but not without leaving a lingering kiss upon your trembling lips, as if to imprint his love upon you, even in the face of uncertainty.
"Y/n?!" A familiar voice calls out from outside, the voice of your roommate.
His lips press against your forehead, his touch both comforting and fleeting. Your fingers instinctively cling to his sleeve, desperately trying to hold onto the moments you have shared.
"Wait, Jisung..." you plead, your voice laced with apprehension and longing. Your thumbs nervously fiddle with each other, betraying the whirlwind of emotions swirling within you.
A mischievous smile plays upon his lips as he leans closer, his voice a whispered reassurance. "Will you come back?" The thought of losing him again scared you.
"It isn’t that easy to get rid of me," he smiles cheekily as he opens the window sill, "Don't miss me too much.
“Remember, whether you like it or not, I'll always find you."
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a/n: the amount of times ive watched all of the scream movies (esp 1, 4, and 6) is not healthy</3
also, han jisung brain rot wkjanjanw
this was honestly supposed to be a two part with minsung but i decided against it idk kinda wanna do more ghostface aus with ateez or something
like im boutta write some ethan landry x readers cus lemme js say 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨
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psychedelic-ink · 4 months
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ㅤㅤㅤ✦ 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐒
ㅤㅤghostface!mike schmidt x afton daughter!reader
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genre: smut, minors dni, dark content, ghostface au
word count: 4.5k
summary: how were you supposed to know one of your closest friends was also the one in desperate need for revenge?
warnings: dubcon (this can also be considered noncon to some since there's the fear of death in place so if that's not your thing please don't read), knife use, manipulation, voyeurism but no one actually sees, daddy kink, piv, blowjob, nonconsensual somnophilia, male masturbation, reader doesn't know what william did, dirty talking, creampie
a/n: a day late but happy thanksgiving everyone 🖤 i am thankful for my josh hutcherson phase (normally I was going to post this yesterday but oh well you get it)
**dividers made by @saradika xx
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How long has it been since you came here? How long has it been since you witnessed the clean beige exterior that now looked more suffocating than liberating? 
You observe the dust over the picture frames as you drop the suitcases, the sudden release of weight making your back bend back like a bow. You stare for a while. Your dad had bought this particular vacation home ages ago. Ironically he had done it so the family could spend some quality time together over the summers. That was before the incident. Before your mom left, only leaving you and him. 
Now the dirt outside was muddy from the pouring rain. Leaves turning to mush under the pressure of tires and boots. You hear the faint sound of the car door closing. Moments later Mike stands behind you. You can feel his breath tickling the back of your neck. It soothes you. 
“So this is the famous summer house huh?” he looks around, not bothering to close the door behind him, he takes a step further. “God, it’s cold in here. Please tell me there’s a heater somewhere.” 
“Probably in the basement. Remind you this place wasn’t meant for winter.” 
“Yeah I can see that from the windows,” he turns and finally closes the door. “It’s a bit eerie that anyone might just watch us from down there.” 
You scoff, “Who’s gonna watch? This house is the only one. Besides it’s just a couple days.” 
Your dad was finally selling the place. Meaning you had limited time to pack the things you wanted to keep before the rest was torn out. You knew packing all the old pictures would be overwhelming so you asked Mike to join and he was more than eager to help out—which was a bit surprising but you were grateful nonetheless. He was always kind to you. Always so gentle. He made your heart jump whenever he looked into your eyes, observing, searching them for something more. You never knew what he was searching for. 
Mike walks ahead with just his backpack, he’s wearing all black: black hoodie, black pants, black jacket. . . he’s completely contrasting his surroundings. He turns to you with rounded eyes and you melt a little. 
“So where am I staying?” 
“Let me show you,” It’s odd being in the halls again, you remember them feeling endless when you were a kid. The floor underneath you creaks. “Luckily we have a bunch of rooms. I don’t know what my parents were thinking, it’s not like we entertained a lot of guests.” 
“Well, it worked out in the end. Now I have a place to say.” 
“Silver lining,” you agree, showing his room. “Make yourself comfortable. I’m going to head to bed and we can brainstorm where to start in the morning.”
“Sounds like a plan,” he steps inside the room and you can’t help but be reminded of how out of place he looks. “Good night.” 
“Good night, Mike.” 
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He stands at the door with furrowed brows and downturned lips. Not that it’s important what his expression is. It’s not like anyone can see it underneath his mask. The mask that he’d bought last second. It is now or never. And this is his chance to avenge his brother, his broken family. This is the solution to all of it. 
It doesn’t help that you’re soundly sleeping. Your lips slightly parted, more skin showing with each rise and fall of your chest. Mike takes a step further inside. The wind howls against the naked windows. Yet, your room managed to stay warm. You turn around to lay on your back and he sees you parting your legs underneath the comforter. His cock grows hard at the sight, he’d love to take you right now. Fuck you until you gasp awake, your sweet cunt dripping with arousal—you’d tell him to stop, not recognizing who he is and he’d go on until you’re creaming around him. Your body becoming sweaty and warm. 
Mike licks his lips and rubs a palm over the outline of his cock. His eyes search your room. You hadn’t unpacked yet. Your suitcase open with clothes pouring out the edges. You probably just picked that flimsy shirt you were wearing and headed to bed. He slowly walks to the pile of clothes, within, he finds a pair of black lace underwear. Mike picks it up. A gloved thumb follows the patterns of delicate flowers. His lips curl upward, just what you were planning on doing with him here? In your old family home where it’s just the two of you?
He stands at the edge of your bed. He’s amazed at how much he can get away with without waking you. It’s amazing how much you trust him without a second thought. 
Too bad he doesn’t trust you. 
With your panties, he fists his cock, the fabric catches against the head prompting the jerk of his hips. He strokes himself fast and hard. Precome seeping into the delicate fabric. His eyes are glued to your lips, the pacing of your breath, your body that’s sprawled underneath the sheets. His cock twitches. Balls tightening as he imagines the sounds you would make for him with a knife against your throat and him deep inside your cunt. 
The smallest of groans manage to escape him as he spills into his fist and the fabric, thick ropes of come staining your panties, he inches closer. Hips stuttering helplessly while wishing to see himself dirty your pretty parted lips. He knows he will soon enough. He sees the way you look at him, how desperate you are for affection and a sense of belonging. Mike enjoys the sense of control he has over you. It makes it all that much more sweeter. 
He’ll take you. Break you. And pull you back together again. 
He’ll ruin William Afton’s precious little girl. 
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You’re blessed with a little bit of sun today. Bits of dust sway in the air, boxes upon boxes standing around you and Mike. Two empty coffee cups lay idly on the floor. You slept like a baby last night, which was something you hadn’t expected, yet when you woke up you felt a bit off. Your door was open for starters. And you definitely remember closing it. Mike had just shrugged it off, saying that you were tired and probably forgot. 
Which is likely, now that you think about it. 
Mike picks up one of the framed photos of you and your dad. Despite the sunlight filling the living room, a chill settles over your skin. He observes the photo longer than necessary. Then he traces the engraved name underneath the picture. 
“Afton,” he murmurs. “I keep forgetting you’re an Afton.” 
He doesn’t let go of the picture as his eyes meet yours, you don’t like the look in them. He almost seems angry. 
“What does it matter?” you say in a sheer tone. “It’s not like it means anything whether I’m an Afton or not.” 
“I’d beg the differ. And I know some other people would too.” 
Mike places the photo in a box, eyes dropping to the floor. Heat rises to your cheeks. You’re confused. Very confused. “Are talking about Freddy Fazbear’s? You know I don’t like talking about that Mike.” 
“No need to get defensive. I’m just saying that your surname isn’t nothing,” he gives you a small smile but it does little to calm your nerves. “You were never suspicious of him?” 
“Of what?” 
He gives you a blank stare, “Of the murders.” 
Your mouth opens and very promptly snaps shut. Mike was never interested in this before. He hadn’t even asked about it, not once. Your shoulders drop and your heart feels heavy in your chest—Were you ever suspicious of him? Of your own father? To be fair you never thought about it. You shut your eyes and plugged your ears. You never wanted to think about that wretched pizzeria and all the things that happened in it. 
Your stomach jumps when he reaches out, curling his palm over the slope of your knee. You release a long breath. 
“Sorry for bringing it up,” he says, his eyes now soft. “I didn’t mean to upset you.” 
“That’s okay.” It wasn’t. You get up, feeling the weight of his gaze as you do. “Alright, I think I’m gonna take a brisk shower then we can make pasta or something.” 
“I can start on that,” he answers. “Pesto or marinara?” 
“You can pick. I’m fine with either.” 
He nods and you leave before he stands. You feel icky all over. The dust and the sudden reality check about your father’s pizzeria and his role in all that had happened make you desperate to scrub yourself clean. 
You swiftly enter the bathroom, shutting the door behind you, giving it a hard shove until you hear the satisfying click. The inside smells of lavender. 
You strip and throw your clothes into the washing machine. The water warms up easily when you step inside. You draw the curtain shut and sigh at the clean water caressing your skin. Warm showers are the solution to everything. Even daddy issues. You begin to wash your hair, a soft moan dropping from your lips as you massage your scalp. The water trickles down your neck and between your breasts. With soapy hands, you give yourself a firm squeeze and graze your thumbs over the pebbled nipples. 
“That’s nice,” you sigh, hands moving up to rinse your hair. Maybe after the shower you can lay down and treat yourself until lunch is ready. Your vibrator’s fully charged, and the prospect of Mike hearing the faint buzz of it makes your pussy throb. 
Just as you reach for the loofah a soft click echoes in the steamy room. 
Your body tenses. Your heart suddenly beating a mile a minute. 
Your eyes turn in the direction of the door but you can’t see well with the curtain. All you see is the blurry darkness of the hall thanks to the open entrance. “Mike?” you call out, voice trembling. “If that’s you it’s not funny.” 
Of course, it’s not him. Even from here, you can smell the pasta sauce. Pesto. You desperately search for any kind of weapon you can use but all you see are shampoo bottles and the loofah you’re currently holding. You swallow. Turning back to the curtain, you see a faint shadow. It tilts its head. 
You need to attack. Need to do something before they do. How did they even get in here? 
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. 
But you’re frozen with fear as the stranger curls their fingers around the shower curtain. The rest happens suddenly. The curtain is ripped open and you see who it is—Mostly. You see the mask, two pitch-black eyes staring back at you. Instead of screaming you jump away, the porcelain slips from underneath you, you fall and as soon as you do, you’re swallowed by darkness. 
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Your eyes flutter open. There’s a sharp sting against your forehead. 
“Thank god you’re awake.” 
“M—Mike?” 
Your vision stops shaking and you finally see him. Mike, and his two soft brown eyes staring down at you. He’s holding a ball of cotton, the white stained by a bit of red. “What. . .” You attempt to get up but quickly forgo your decision when your head throbs. Mike clicks his tongue and presses the cotton to your head, your eyes tear up as it stings, but it slightly subsides seconds later. Looking down, you notice a towel was thrown over you. 
“I should be asking you that, how the hell did you slip?” 
“I. . . I didn’t.” 
“What do you mean you didn’t?” 
“There. . there was someone in the shower,” Your blood freezes as you remember. “He. . .I think it was a he? He was wearing a mask and he opened the curtain and fuck—I was so scared Mike.” 
Your arms move on their own and wrap around his neck, pulling him close. It takes him only a second to mimic your movement, wrapping his arms around your cold shivering body. His fingers trace your spine. A pleasant shiver runs up your back. “It’s okay. I’ve got you now,” he murmurs. “But. . . the door was closed.” 
What? “What?” You shake your head as you pull away from him, ignoring the towel slightly sliding lower. “There’s no way. How did you see me then?” 
“Well, I shouted for you but you didn’t respond. Then I knocked and you didn’t respond again. The door wasn’t locked so I let myself in.” 
“And you found me unconscious? No one was here?” 
“Only you.” 
You shudder. That’s absolutely terrifying. 
“Come on let’s. . .” he swallows and you notice his eyes lingering where your towel has fallen. The swell of your breasts exposed. Looking away, you pull the fabric up and properly wrap it around yourself. His eyes move up to meet your gaze. “Let’s get you dressed and then we can eat.” 
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Your last night here. Finally. 
After the unfortunate fall in the shower, you never managed to shake the feeling of being watched in your own house. You didn’t say anything to Mike but you knew he saw how freaked out you were from your eyes, by the way you would jump at every sound. Every time you closed your eyes you saw the stranger’s mask—those damn black sockets and open mouth staring back at you. It didn’t help that every morning you found your door wide open. You could’ve sworn that you closed it. But without fail, the door was open in the morning. 
And you’re so grateful to be done with it all. 
Stacks of boxes stand tall near the door. You were adamant about having everything ready tonight so that as soon as the sun peaked through the two of you could leave. Which was why you had ordered Mike to pack his suitcase— you’re doing the same, folding clothes with shaky hands and hoping the morning would come faster. 
Throwing your shirt into the suitcase your brows furrow, “What the hell?” you murmur as you lower yourself to your knees. The drawers and closet are emptied out, so why the hell do you only have three pairs of underwear? 
Sweat beads at your forehead. With panic, you rummage through the neatly folded clothes. You don’t care about the mess or the fact that you’ll have to fold them again—why can’t you find the other pairs? 
You’re completely defeated as your entire body deflates. Just three. You remember packing ten. They’re gone. All gone. Stolen. 
Your heart lurches and you feel it beating in your throat. You want to leave. You want to leave. You want to leave. 
The phone rings. 
It’s loud and booming. Your eyes shot towards the hallway. It’s the landline. A phone that hadn’t been used for god knows how long. You weren’t even aware that it was still connected. 
You blink rapidly, forcing the sting of tears to fade. You stand on shaky legs as you head towards the phone in the living room. You vaguely hear Mike mumbling a melody that’s familiar but also not at the same time. 
You stare at your reflection in the widows as you pick up the phone. Normally you’d appreciate the view. The dark sky, the swaying pine trees. But not today. 
You clear your throat, “H—Hello?” 
You hear a faint static, a low internal breathing, then the silence talks back, saying your name. You shudder at the rasp in his voice, fear weighing you down and gluing you to the floor. “Who is this?” you ask. 
“You know who I am,” he murmurs and takes a deep inhale. “We’ve met before remember? That moment in the bathroom.” Your body freezes all over, he chuckles, then speaks as if reminiscing a fond memory. “You looked so amazing. Nipples hard, body wet. Were you touching yourself?” 
You remain silent, eyes glued to the hall that is lit by Mike’s room. You want to call out. You really do. But you’re terrified. 
“Was it him you were thinking about?” 
“That’s. . .” you swallow. “That’s none of your business.” 
“Everything you do is my business,” he snaps but then the harsh baritone of his voice quickly softens. “Fine. Don’t. I know the answer anyway.” 
“What do you want?” 
“I want the truth, Miss Afton.” Your breath catches, your knees begin to shake. “Just answer my question and maybe you won’t die.” 
You remain silent and you hear the smile in his voice, “Good girl. Now, do you know your father is a murderous piece of trash? Yes or no?” 
You close your eyes, shake your head, you can’t answer. “Fine,” he huffs. “Do you think you deserve to live?” 
“I. . .” Your mouth goes dry and your fingers tighten around the phone. “I do.” 
Honestly, you’re not sure if you believe that. 
“Oh, I’m sorry but that’s just not correct,” he answers with a melodic lilt. “You don’t deserve anything. Why should your life matter more than the other kids that were killed by your father?” 
“It shouldn’t.” 
Your voice barely comes out in a whisper now. Your eyes drop to the floor, maybe if you run and get to Mike in time you can save you both? 
“Is your dad a killer yes or no?” then he adds. “You better answer correctly this time.” 
“I don’t know,” you say this time, he clicks his tongue in annoyance. 
“Wrong.” You close your eyes, taking a deep breath you open them again. All you see is your reflection. “I’ve been watching you,” he says. “You sleep like a log. I watched you. Fucked my fist while you were sleeping soundly, dreaming of sunshine and rainbows,” he sighs. “Or whatever the fuck girls like you dream about.”
You’re appalled by the sudden gush of wetness that courses through you. You shake your head, trying to push the images away. “Please don’t do this,” you beg. 
He stops speaking for a good while, for a second you think he hung up, but then you hear his breath in your ear and know that he’s still there. “I keep forgetting.” 
“Forgetting what?” 
“That you’re an Afton.” 
Your heart drops to the pits of your stomach. Every fiber of skin burning and tingling with the realization. You’ve heard those words before. You’ve heard the hidden accusation in them. Your ear burns from the phone pressed against it, you press it harder, not wanting to miss a second of dialogue. Your lips brush against the plastic as you do. 
“Mike?”
The line goes dead. Silent. And you realize you preferred words coming from the other line. Tortorously slow, as if in a dream, you place the phone back in its cradle. You feel him before you see him. Your head turns. You feel every muscle pulling as you do. 
And there he is. 
The man with the mask. 
“Mike?” you say again with less conviction. He tilts his head, not moving, not saying anything. Your body stiffens and your eyes drop to his hands where you see the sharp edge of a knife. You drag your gaze back to the mask, hoping that you’re staring into his eyes, “Why?” 
He takes a step forward and you take a step back. You’re inches away from the wide windows. “I had a brother,” he says, you’re surprised to find yourself relaxing upon hearing his voice. “I’ve tracked down the suspects. Looked at similar cases for years. Every bit of information leads to Afton.” 
“I had nothing to do with it.” 
Another step. The glass is cool underneath your palms. 
“You father did,” he answers. He stands only an inch away now, your stomach jumps when he presses the sharp edge of the knife against your neck. You hold your breath. “The day he took him is the day I lost everything. My family shattered. All because of him. And now. . .” Mike presses the knife harder, a hint of pain blossoming from where he’d cut. Your eyes snap shut. “Now I’ll take his little girl. Eye for an eye.” 
“Mike, please,” you whisper. Then you say something that surprises you both. “Take off the mask. If I’m going to die, I want to see you.” 
He tenses but obliges anyway. The mask falls to the floor, his hair mussed, soft curls fall over his forehead. A bit of stubble on his chin from not shaving at all since you two arrived. He doesn’t look scary, not at all. He looks vengeful, yes, but the softness in his eyes is still there. 
“What are you going to do to me?” 
Mike’s nostrils flare as he inhales, he exhales through parts lips, you feel his warm breath on your skin. “I’m going to ruin you.” The knife is replaced with his hand, he squeezes your throat, pulls you away from the glass, and slams you into it. “You’re mine now. I own you.” 
You shudder as he lets you go, his hands fumble with his jeans, and the fabric pools at his ankles. “Get on your knees and suck daddy’s cock.” 
You stare at him, wide-eyed but do as you’re told anyway. You drop to your knees. His cock achingly hard in front of you. He holds himself and drags the wet tip across your lips. He slides the underside of his cock against your face and without thought you dart your tongue out, tasting him. Mike groans, the sound rattling in his chest. With no warning given, he slips his cock between your lips and stops halfway. Your eyes water at how thick he is. 
When you look up you see he’s holding his phone, camera directed at you with his cock in your mouth. “Sorry,” he says with a faint smirk. “I need a souvenir to remember how good you look with my cock in your mouth. Who knew Afton’s precious daughter was such a slut.” 
Your eyes flutter as he shoves the phone back into his jacket pocket. He cradles your head and starts fucking himself deep into your mouth. “You know,” he rasps. Mike pushes himself especially deep and smiles broadly when you choke around him. “You really should be thanking me for not slitting your throat during all the nights I watched you.” 
He suddenly stops and pulls out until it’s only the head between your lips. His cock throbs on your tongue, he forces your gaze up to him, “Thank me for not slitting your throat.” 
“Thank—” It’s hard to speak with him still between your lips. You swallow and try again, your nipples tight. “Thank you for not slitting my throat.” 
“Such an obedient girl,” he muses. “I’m going to fuck you in every corner of this house. Get up—” 
He says that but lifts you himself, impatient, he presses you against the window, your cheek smushed against the clear surface. Your neck strains a little. His breath caresses the back of your neck, his lips on your ear, “Time to pay for your father’s sins.”
Mike lifts your shirt and pulls down your sweats. His cock lays heavy above the small of your back. Warm and wet. You clench as he pushes you forward, your breasts fully pressed against the glass. He kicks your legs apart, holding your arms back, Mike slips inside you with ease. Your breath halts in your throat. You only feel pleasure. You drip down his length, and with a groan, he buries himself to the hilt. 
“I knew you’d been waiting for this,” he groans. “So fucking wet—” 
“M—Mike—” 
He clicks his tongue and cocks his head to the side, his forehead brushing against the back of your head. “Not Mike.” 
“Daddy,” you moan as he pulls out and slams back in. You choke. “Daddy—” 
Mike fucks into your harder, the sound of skin against skin echoes in the room, wet squelches following. Your knees shake as you find yourself completely immobile against the glass. His fingers curl around your neck and he yanks your head back, hips relentless. 
“Look at that, anyone could see you now. I wish we had an audience.” Your cunt squeezes him like a vice, his hips stutter forward, a sharp moan rattling in his throat. He laughs. “Does that turn you on?” Helpless, you nod. “That’s it, take it. Daddy’s whore.” 
“Kiss me—please—” 
The plea takes him by surprise, he stops, hand tensing around your neck, you feel the pulse of his cock deep inside you. He drags his hips down your neck and teases you with his teeth. Goosebumps rise over your skin. And finally—finally—those perfect plush lips meet your own. It’s cruel really. The red strings of fate that tie you two together. You’re still not sure what to make of it all. Or of him. But you surrender. You surrender to his mouth and tongue. Mike swallows you whole. His tongue moves lavishly over yours, sliding and sucking as he presses harder inside you. 
“Gonna come inside,” he breathes into your mouth. His hand drops between your legs, your body shaking as he draws tight circles around your clit. 
Mike’s lips meet your throat, gentle then ravenous, making their way to the blankets of your clavicle, scraping the delicate skin. You arch against him, pleasure building, craving more. He thrusts harder, deeper, the pleasure increasing with each movement. His fingers grab your hips, and you can feel yourself tightening around him, his cock slamming against your core inside of you. Obscene sounds come from where he’s playing with your clit. You feel like a rag doll. And soon the coil snaps, you’re falling. 
Your entire body goes tense, his name leaving your lips in an urgent plea as the pleasure overtakes you. You shake and tremble, Mike continues to hammer into you, hand leaving your core and bracing itself near your head. Briefly, you manage to look outside. See the darkness that looms over the forest. Then you notice his reflection in the glass, eyes meeting yours. 
He smiles. 
Mike moans loudly, lips parting, his hips stutter over and over, spilling himself inside. Your eyes roll back, a whimper falling from your mouth as you take all of it. He holds himself there until his come starts to drip from where he stretches you. Your forehead finds purchase on the glass. Cold and soothing. His lips brush the back of your neck. 
“You look so tired already but we’re not done yet,” he parts your lips with his fingers and pushes them inside. Teary, you find his eyes in the reflection once more. He’s pleased. “I was serious in what I said, Miss Afton. I own you, now.” 
“Mike. . .” 
“And no matter where you run off to,” he murmurs, cutting you off. A hint of annoyance in using his name.  “I’ll always come back.”
633 notes · View notes
valtoon · 1 year
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cw: blood
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What's your favorite scary movie? 🔪
alternate version
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2K notes · View notes
dewberryobssesed · 5 months
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Tricks and Treats
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Tate Langdon x Female Reader Smut
Warnings: Roleplay (kinda), p in v, Lots of Kissing, Blood, I think that's about it!
Word Count: 3097
A/n: This is kind of weird huh? Hi! I'm back for a bit. Sorry for the inactivity, life's a bit hectic right now but I wanted to get at least something out for Halloween. My writing's a bit rusty so be warned, this might turn out to be actual shit. Idk we'll find out I guess. Anyhow, I really hope you enjoy!
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The cool chill of Hallows' Eve creeps up your damp skin, towel loosely hanging around your body doing absolutely nothing to protect you from the icy breeze in your room. You didn't mind. If anything, it only amplified your excitement for tonight. You hummed as you sauntered over to the white dress and matching wings hanging on your dresser; an angel costume—sweet, simple and entirely last minute. Trick or treating was your favourite part of Halloween, and the chill of your room only served to be a preview for the cool autumn breeze swirling outside. 
Your lips twisted into a sickly sweet smile as you slipped the dress on, loving the way it felt on your body, and you couldn't help but wonder just how much your boyfriend would love it. Your usually shy and introverted boyfriend truly fell into his element each time Halloween rolled around. You knew he loved it when you dressed up—regardless of how revealing, put together or fancy the costume was—you knew this because he showed you just how much each and every time. Maybe it's the borderline roleplay aspect of it, you guess, as you slip on your footwear and move on to painting your face just like an angel would. Only, an angel probably wouldn't be looking to get fucked whilst doing so.
Speaking of said boyfriend, it had been a while since you heard from him, which was slightly concerning. The last time you talked to him was before you hopped into your shower and let him know that you would call him back after you were fully ready. You shrugged the concern away. Perhaps he was just waiting for you to call back. If not, then maybe he has a surprise for you—he did seem especially eager over the phone. And considering how much more outgoing he becomes during October, the latter is way more likely. The idea has your entire being buzzing with anticipation, so much so that you're barely able to apply your rosy lipstick without smudging it. 
After you've finally finished, you give yourself a once over in your vanity mirror, tussling and playing with your hair until it sits just right. Satisfied and slightly turned on, you reach for your phone. You flip your phone open ready to dial his number before you're interrupted by a call.
"An unknown number? Strange…" You mutter to yourself before tossing the phone aside and waiting for the way-too-loud ringtone to shut up. Once it does, you grab hold of the device again, trying to get back on track. However, you're interrupted again and then a third time. This time, you pick up because there's probably something wrong if this person keeps trying to contact you. 
"Hello?" you ask, trying to sound as cheerful and unbothered as you can.
No response.
You try again, this time dragging the 'o' out, "Hello? Anyone there?"
No response, though now, you can hear breathing on the other end. It's a heavy type of breathing, almost panting that sounds ghostly. 
"Alright, I have no idea which one of you assholes is trying to scare me? It's not funny. Go bother someone else." You end the call and immediately go back to your original task. And since no one can ever let you do anything peacefully, you're interrupted, again.
"Listen, asshole. I told you to-" 
You're cut off before you can start berating the person on the other end.
"Hello, Sunshine." It's an eerie voice, one you've never heard before. The best way you can describe it is that it's textured and has a hint of something so familiar, but you just can't place your finger on it. You completely forget why you were annoyed in the first place. There's something scary about the voice that has your vocal cords caving in on themselves. A timid 'hi' is all you can muster out. 
"Oh, don't go all shy on me now. Just a second ago, you were all fired up." Your throat dries at the sound of your name, and you go completely silent. 
There's a hum and humourless chuckle at the end of the line, although nothing about what just happened is humorous. 
The man continues, "Okay, since you don't seem to want to talk, how about we play a game- get you to open up? I'll ask, and you answer. Sound simple enough for you, Sunshine?" There's that sense of familiarity back in his tone, and you still can't quite place it. You don't give the guy a verbal answer. Too terrified to string a coherent response along, you dumbly nod instead. It's an idiotic move; it's not like the guy can see you-
"Good."
Wait. What? What?! Can he see you? If your heart was beating in your chest at an inhumane speed before, it has completely flat-lined by now.
The new spike of adrenaline and fear—ironically—gives you enough courage to ask the question now dangerously looming in the air.
"Can you see me?" You can't help the terror that slips out with your words as you whip your head towards the window in your room. Your curtains are completely drawn open. Fuck.
"I guess this game isn't simple enough for you, is it?" he teases but blesses you with an answer anyhow, "but yes, I can. I really enjoyed the show you gave me earlier. You can feel the colour drain from your face, and as much as you want to rush over and pull your curtains shut, you can't. You're rooted into place like a century-year-old tree, and all you can do is stare and try to search for a figure standing outside. 
"Tell me, has anyone ever told you how gorgeous you are?" You can practically feel his voice fall a notch deeper over the flimsy phone as you grip onto it for dear life. Regardless of how much you hate it, you can feel your face heat up as well. You hate how he can probably see how flustered you are now. 
"Yes."
"Who?" is his next question, and at this point, you wish you had asked him to give you an exact number of how many questions he was going to ask.
With a shaky voice, you reply, "My boyfriend."
"Boyfriend, huh?" Just like before, you can practically feel his sadistic grin over the phone. It's as if his face is pressed up against your ear instead of the damn phone, a hot smirk searing into your skin. You hate how the thought makes you feel, how it sends shivers up your spine and straight past your stomach. 
"Does he treat you well? Worship you like he should?" You're convinced that some ghost just raised the thermostat in your room because it feels like you're on fire. Maybe you are on fire; this is probably some screwed-up fever dream. You most likely pricked your finger while getting ready and went into a deep sleep like Sleeping Beauty or something of the sort because the way you feel right now can not be real. 
"Are you going to answer my question, or do I have to get in there and make you?" 
"Yes! Yes- he, uh he does…" embarrassed, your voice morphs into a mere whisper, "worship me like he should." For a brief moment, your eyes divert from the window and move down to your glittery shoes. Your fingers play with the silky material of your dress to try and fail at distracting you.
You're utterly ashamed and embarrassed—you can't believe that you admitted that to a complete stranger, one who's actively stalking you right now. There's a whole other layer of shame building on you like a second skin because you're way too aroused, given the situation. You can feel the way it seeps out of you and sticks to your panties. You loathe the way you involuntarily squeezed your thighs shut every time the stranger spoke. You have a boyfriend for crying out loud, one that you absolutely adore; you should not be feeling this way at all about someone else. Someone you don't even know! While mulling over your inner turmoil, you almost miss the sound of leaves shuffling and a pleased hum. Almost.
Your head snaps back up, eyes darting to the window, and there you see it, or rather, him. Your body is moving on its own, carrying you closer and closer to the mirror until you can see your own breath fog up the glass. There he is. Dressed in all black, thick boots, what appear to be black jeans, a black shirt and a jacket that you would secretly love to get a closer look at. However, none of that is scary in and of itself. No. It's that mask he's wearing—a stretched-out ghostly white face tilted to the side and staring right up at you. Despite the fact that the eyes are big black ovals, you can feel his gaze pierce into you, pinning you against the window and commanding you to stare right back. He's haunting.
The logical part of you is screaming to pull your curtains shut and dial the authorities before you wind up dead in your bedroom. The other more curious part of you wants to stay and observe the way the moonlight shines off the metal wrapped around his fingers and the blond strands poking out from under the mask.
Thankfully, you finally listen to the former. 
Dropping your phone in the process, it takes you two swift motions to get your curtains to completely cover your window. Granted, the task probably wasn't as difficult as it felt. You clutch the fabric shut for a minute or two before curiosity gets the better of you, and you're peeking out. To your disappointment, there's no one there anymore. Quickly, you scramble to pick your phone back up and press it against your ear once more. 
"You really should make a habit of checking if you locked your doors."
"Where are you?" your voice is panicked and rushed as you frantically start pacing around your room.
"New game." his voice is now dangerous and needy, no longer playful and teasing, "You hide. I seek."
"What happens if you find me?"
"I'll be sure to make you scream." And just like that, he hangs up. You panic. You have no idea what the actual fuck he meant by that.
There's no place to hide in your room except for your closet. So that's where you go. There's no point in going out of your room because he's probably already inside your house, trying to look for your roommate—who thankfully left beforehand—and murder her before he comes after you. Your closet feels extra stuffy and crammed up because the burning desire in your core is trying to rival the sheer fear coursing through your veins. It's frustrating, and you just want the world to stop for a moment so you can straighten out your feelings and then finally think of a proper solution. Unfortunately, the world does not seem to want to help you out. In fact, it ends up doing the opposite, and soon enough, you can hear your bedroom door squeak open.
It’s a torturous, slow movement of the door as you hear heavy boots tread in. Your heart springs back to life and thuds so hard against your chest that you fear that he might hear you. Even then, it’s hard to hold back a gasp when the footsteps tread closer and closer towards your closet. You feel like an animal. Prey being hunted and killed for sport, for fun. The anticipation is exhausting. Yet the adrenaline is addicting. 
Slowly, he creaks the closet door open and you’ve been found. Your heart skips a beat as you’re now face to face with the mask; it’s truly more terrifying up close. Your chest is heaving while your heart skips too many beats for it to be considered healthy. To any unknowing onlooker, it would look like you just had sex with the guy, and honestly, you can’t deny that it doesn’t feel like it, except for the fact that instincts keep telling you to run and escape before it’s too late. And then your senses kick into overdrive as you try to slip past him, but it’s no use because in a matter of seconds he manages to grab onto your dress and push you down on your bed. 
You immediately start to thrash and squirm against him, all while screaming until he clamps a hand down onto your lips.
“Caught you.” His voice is different. It's less textured, no less terrifying or dark, but most of all, it sounds more familiar. Every single retort and threat you were going to yell out dies on your tongue. You know this voice. Recognising the realisation in your eyes, he lets his hand drop down to your waist. A ghost of his name forms on your tongue, but you’re not able to address him until you tug his mask off.
“Tate.” His name sounds breathy and divine as it slips out. A shit-eating grin is plastered on his face as his free hand comes to rest on the side of your face. His thumb glides over your bottom lip.
“Surprise, Sunshine.” His voice manages to make you painfully aware of the sticky mess in between your thighs, even though you want to yell at him for scaring the shit out of you. 
“Did you like the surprise? Thought we should try something different this time.” Even with the provocative tone of his voice, you could sense the fear of rejection behind it. This was still the same Tate that unashamedly adored it when you praised him, regardless of his assertiveness during this particular situation. You hum and nod your head in approval. You want nothing more than to kiss him right now, to drown in the unforgiving sea that is Tate Langdon until he’s the only one who can pull you back out. 
Observant as ever, he smashes his lips down on yours and entrances you in a ruthless and needy display of emotion. You’re lost in the clash of his lips against yours as he steals your oxygen only to replace it with poisonous desire. You barely notice his fingers trailing up your dress if it weren’t for his hands feeling like lava against your skin, marks and tainting every spot he touches. Your own try to push away the jacket he has on so you can feel him better, and you whine until he eventually helps you shrug it off, his eagerness matching yours. The garment is on the floor within seconds with his belt and your heels following suit until his lips are back on yours. 
His hands finally make it to the lacy material of your underwear, pushing the garment away until he has full access to your dripping cunt. You would be embarrassed by the amount of slick that's running down your thighs and onto his slender fingers if it weren't for the way his lips strayed from your own and down to your neck. You couldn't help but preen at the way the usual soft kisses on your skin were replaced by a slow and harsh drag of teeth. He nips and sucks at the supple skin until it's swirling with red while his hot breath hits the crook of your neck. It's enough to make you go insane. 
Though, it's nothing compared to the fiery feeling of his fingers gliding against your folds. Tate's fingers expertly rub along your cunt, all the while dodging your sensitive bud—teasing you just enough to have you whimpering and squirming against the bed. His hips grind onto your thigh in tandem with his strokes and you lose it when a moan slips past his lips and vibrates against your throat.
"God- fuck- Tate. Please stop, stop teasing," you whine, hands tugging at his scratchy trousers in hopes of pulling him towards your needy core. Your whines are met with an amused chuckle.
"What? You want more?"
"Yes- please, I can't-" your pleas are cut off by a withdrawal of his fingers from your core as they instead pull your hands down to the button of his jeans. You can feel the slick coating his fingers while they slide against your own, but it's too late to be embarrassed about it. All you can think about is the fire in your lungs and the fact that his trousers are still on. It takes you a while to pop the button and unzip them—much to your frustration—but as soon as you do, they're off in an instant, chucked and pushed down to the hardwood floor. Meanwhile, he managed to push your dress up enough to get a firm grip on your waist. Throughout all of this, his kisses persist. Despite being softer, they move from the underside of your jaw all the way to the corner of your lips. You moan when he takes your bottom lip in between his teeth, piercing the supple skin and making you taste the metallic blood that follows. 
You're so lost in the taste that you barely register the stretch of him pushing himself inside you until he's harshly rocking into you. The feeling is divine—the press of his body against yours, the pleasure and pain from his thrusts and the way a groan will slip past his mouth and into yours—it's addictive and has you moaning and clawing at the crumpled sheets around you. You're reaching the edge of a familiar high faster than usual, and your hands grasp around, looking for something, anything to tether you to reality before you slip off.
Your hand thrashed against the sheets and finally caught onto something smooth and light. You looked down to see the ghostly white mask, and everything came crashing down. Your nails scraped against the plastic, and incoherent babbles fell from your lips as you drowned in euphoria. Just as you began to relish in the feeling, Tate’s thrusts stopped completely, and he pulled out only to sit down beside you.
“Wait, what? What‘re you doing?” your mind is hazy, and even stringing along this simple question felt like a chore. Mischievous brown eyes stare at you, and it isn’t until now that you realise just how much messy hair and swollen lips suit him. In one simple tug, he’s pulling you down the bed and onto your knees in front of him. 
“Oh, come on, sunshine. I gave you a treat. Don’t deserve one in return?”
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mimiecol · 5 months
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ONLY YOU MASTERLIST
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-> sum : when a regular customer becomes a regular part of your life, moments of her routine don’t add up to yours. a recent serial killer gone by the alias, ‘the bedroom murderer’ takes the lives of those close to you…what does it take to notice?
-> pairing : ghostface stalker!winter x fem!reader
-> cw : stalking , dark topics , smut , swearing , taboo topics (??)
+ PILOT - ???
+ 1 - ???
+ 2 - ???
+3 - ???
+4 - ???
+5 - ???
+6 - ???
soon to be published - ongoing
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325 notes · View notes
viperrot · 10 months
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⇁slasher season | leon kennedy | intro
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re4 remake ghostface!leon s. kennedy x fem!reader NSFW 18+
MINORS DNI: BEWARE OF THE CONTENT YOU CONSUME.
you've always been in love with horror media growing up, especially slasher films. your boyfriend suggests to indulge in your dark fantasies after learning about your liking towards the classic ghostface.
series content warnings: porn with little plot, cnc/dubcon, depictions of chase, stalking, knifeplay, size difference, and possibly more to be added
content contains: GRAPHIC DESCRIPTION OF MURDER (ghostface in the movie doing ghostface things), oral (f!receiving), reader has fem!anatomy and uses fem!pronouns, size difference (leon is supposedly taller and beefier than reader), use of petnames (bunny, bug), no p in v, leon eats pussy like a champ!, praise and degradation
not proofread i am eepy
3719 words
song rec: "porno witch" by devil's witches (PLEASE LISTEN I LOVE THIS SONG UHHUGGHHU)
the introduction to my new self-indulgent collection of ghostface leon! no ghostface!leon here, but in the next one? ohohoho… be prepared, little doves.
enjoy below the cut~
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Swaddled up in a soft blanket dyed to look like the Mystery Machine from Scooby-Doo, you patiently waited for your boyfriend to arrive home from work. You sat on the floor below your couch, surrounded by pillows you had taken from your bedroom in effort to get comfortable.
Tonight was movie night, and it was your week to pick the movie. With the summer season in full swing, you had finally decided it was “Slasher Season”—a time of the year you made up when you were in high school as an excuse to watch shitty horror films on your mom’s VHS player. Slasher Season, for you, was from July and all the way into Christmas—the typical settings of many slasher films. From summer camp scenarios, halloween killing sprees, and organs for Christmas presents, you thought it was a proper time period to call the Slasher Season.
As you scrolled through your phone, mindlessly looking through cringe social media, a ping! sound vibrates the small device. Your put your attention on the notification banner at the top of the screen, smiling softly when you see a message from your sweetheart.
Lee💕» Almost there. Make me some hot chocolate?
At the mentioning of the sweet treat, you checked the electric kettle that was resting on the kitchen counter and squinted at it.
« Too farrrr you do it urself!!
You respond, feeling lazy.
Lee💕» You’re goofy. See you soon, bug
Your heart raced knowing Leon was only a few blocks away at this point. He often walks place-to-place to make up for his lack of gym consistency as a result of college taking up most of his time, and his dorm isn’t very far from your apartment. As you waited for Leon, you got up from your comfortable spot on the floor to turn on the kettle before searching for the remote to the TV, finding it wedged between the couch cushions.
Sitting back down in your pillow moat, you quickly search for one of your favourite slashers on a random streaming service—Scream, 1996. The infamous Ghostface mask stared back at you as you clicked around for the “play” button, starting the movie and immediately pausing it to continue when your lover arrives.
The door to your quaint apartment clicks, the sound of a door knob rattling catching your attention. It pushes open to reveal Leon, sporting a black t-shirt and some blue jeans. He crouches down to slip off his beat-up Converse, tucking them against the wall before fully entering the house and closing the door behind him. He pushes his hair back as he looks at you with a boyish grin, a faint blush dusting the bridge of his nose as his pupils widen at the sight of you.
“Hey, bug,” Leon beams. He takes a look at the kitchen and notices the electric kettle boiling on the counter.
“Hi, Lee,” you chuckle softly. “I thought you changed at your dorm?” you motioned towards his jeans from your spot on the floor. His attention turns down to his attire.
“Figured I could shower and then just wear the sweats I keep here. Plus, I didn’t want to walk in pants like that,” Leon shrugs, walking towards the short hallway that led to your bedroom. You hum and go back to your phone while your blondie changes out of his tight jeans. The six-foot tall hunk walked into the living room and nudged you with his sock-clad foot, asking you to scoot forward. You did so, allowing him to squeeze behind you and set you into his lap.
"Was it busy today?" you peer up at him, your eyes unable to focus on his chin and his eyes at the same time. You felt Leon's right arm leave your waist to pick up the remote on the coffee table, pressing the "play" button to begin the movie. He tugs up the Scooby-Doo themed blanket to cover the both of you before answering your question.
"Like always. Luckily, no one pushed me into the pool today," Leon chuckled. He works as a swim instructor during the summer for little kids at the local pool, and the children would often play with him and push him into the body of water. The image of a dozen little ones running around him like vultures made you giggle.
"That's kinda lame," you joke. Leon squeezes your side gently, taking a nibble at the shell of your ear as a silent jab at your comment.
"Do you want hot chocolate, bug?" Leon asks lowly. You shake your head as a no, focusing your attention to the movie.
Drew Barrymore as Casey Becker picked up the white landline phone, responding to the fake voice speaking to her with a cheeky grin on her face. You felt your thighs squeeze at the sound of Ghostface on the other end of the line, silently wishing you were Casey Becker. If Leon noticed, he made no effort to say anything. As the scene plays out, you feel your lover's chest hum softly.
"What is this...?" he questions quietly. Your eyebrows knit together at this.
"You don't know what we're watching...?!" you gape up at him, your head looking over your shoulder. He gives you a look of pure confusion.
"Not really, no. Am I supposed to know?" Leon laughs nervously, a brow quirked up.
"If you're dating me, yes! Yes, you're supposed to know!" You yelp out, distraught by your lover's confession. He flashes a stupid smile, seemingly unbothered by your behaviour, his lightly calloused fingers tickling beneath the baggy jumper you wore that totally wasn't his to tease at the skin of your waist.
"Then why don't you help me out and tell me what in the world we're watching, bunny?" Leon circles his thumb just above your v-line, rubbing softly as he nuzzles his chin onto your shoulder.
"It's only like... one of the best slasher films of all time," you mumble under your breath. "Scream by Wes Craven from 1996."
"Mmm... not ringing a bell, bunny," Leon begins to press kisses into the crook of your neck as his eyes focus on the screen in front of you two, confused as to why the platinum blonde chick is losing her mind while running around with the phone in her hands.
Casey Becker screams at the sight of her meathead boyfriend strapped to a chair in front of her family’s pool, guts hanging out of his stomach from a large slit that ran across it. Leon cringed slightly at the sight, not expecting to watch a horror movie tonight.
"What is this..." he squints, still confused.
"Just keep watching," you sigh, childishly upset that Leon didn't know what this movie was.
The scene continued, Casey Becker running around and out of her house with a knife from her burning kitchen. Eventually, she's found by the wicked killer of the movie. He chases her with his blade, digging it into her neck as she cries to her poor parents over the phone. The blood gurgled in her throat as she cried, crawling in the yard of her lavish and isolated home, leaving a trail of her blood in her wake.
As Ghostface brandished his modified hunting knife, you shivered with a sick excitement, unknowing of the sparkle in your eyes as the scene unfolded.
But Leon knew.
As you squirmed in his lap, he grew curious, his lips no longer kissing against your neck. He knew what the two of you were watching now—he had dressed up as that murderous fool for Halloween in his senior year of high school as a joke with some old friends. Leon hadn’t any idea who Ghostface was. He simply knew him because of his friend group that dressed up as other slasher antagonists.
He remembers the compliments he’s get when trick-or-treating with his friends—the girls that’d flirt with him and ask him for a game of cat and mouse with batted eyelashes. Leon feels warm at the memory of spending time with his old group and denying girls a playful chase, but he quickly brushes them away when he feels you grind into his lap a little harder than the other times.
“What’s got you so twitchy, bunny?” Leon whispers into your ear, thumbing at the waistband of your pajama shorts. You jolt at the sensation, a blush running up to your ears.
“Nothing?” You respond, hoping he wouldn't realize the true reason as to why you're so fidgety tonight. The sight of Billy Loomis and Stu Macher made you want to jump with joy, unconsciously biting your bottom lip as they teased their respective girlfriends. Leon hummed, mimicking the kisses Billy would give Sidney in the scene, his lips grazing the lines of your neck.
"I think you're lying to me, bug," Leon chuckles lowly, his lips curling up into a grin against your neck. "I have a serious question for you."
You perk up at this, your full attention in your lover's hands. You can no longer focus on the slasher film playing on the TV as Leon turns you in his lap to face him, his nose grazing against your own as he tilts his head down to look into your eyes.
"Do you get, uh...?" Leon hesitates, his lip twitching as his eyes dart around in search of what to say.
"Do serial killers turn you on?"
Blink.
Blink, blink.
"HAH- why would you think that, Lee?!" you laugh nervously, your heart drumming against your ribcage. The blonde man smirked at the flustered sight of you, knowing good and well you were lying through your teeth.
"Well, you keep squeezing your thighs together, first of all," he notes. "And then you keep squirming around like a caterpillar getting ready to cocoon," his hands tickle your waist, trailing up and up, closer to your chest.
"That doesn't mean anything, Lee. I-I'm just feeling the affects of a thrilling film!" you try to dodge his speculations, eyes averting from his own. Leon presses a soft kiss on the corner of your lips before you felt his right hand trail away from your torso, cupping the heat between your legs.
"If it doesn't mean anything," he leans in, whispering into you ear.
"Why are you soaking through your shorts?"
You shiver when you feel Leon's breath tickle your ear, unknowingly grinding your clothed slit onto the palm of his hand. He chuckles lowly, pulling away from your heat. Your blush worsens, and you whine softly when the contact is lost.
"Be honest with me, bunny. Do you like the idea of being chased? Maybe even... having a little fun with a knife?" Leon coos, bringing his hand back to your waist. You shyly nod, shoving your face into his neck to avoid his soft gaze. His laugh rumbles low in his chest as he holds you close, caressing your skin gently.
“Don’t be embarrassed—It’s kind of cute, really,” Leon assures you. “But I have another question.”
You press your chest against his, and you feel him hug you a little tighter. You hum softly, urging your lover to continue.
“Do you want to try something more… slasher-like?” He asks curiously, and you grow a little confused.
“What do you mean, Lee? Like… do you mean you want to watch more movies, or in be-“
“In bed. Or maybe even out of bed,” Leon smirks. You pull away from the crook of his neck, interested in the proposition.
“Out of bed? How would that work?” You slightly pucker your lips with confusion. Leon traces your bottom lip with his thumb, tugging at it gently as his blue eyes traced the features of your face.
“However you want, bunny. I can send you creepy messages on a cheap burner phone, make you wonder if I’m stalking you every moment of the day, and maybe even, hmm… Get a Ghostface costume…?” Your eyes widen with surprise at his suggestions, and by the look in his eyes, he’s completely serious. You stifle a nervous laugh, unsure of how to even respond.
“Y-y’know, I thought you were a ‘missionary only’ kinda guy,” you half-joked.
It was mostly true, really. The times you’ve had sex with Leon, he was mostly very sweet—he’s just a big tease. He always wanted to look you in the eyes, whisper sweet praises to you as he rolls his hips into yours. You never bothered to ask him for rougher activities, not wanting to come off as weird to your boyfriend of almost a year, so his suggestion of chasing and stalking you was a shocker.
“M’only a ‘missionary only’ guy because I didn’t think you’d be such a lewd and depraved girl,” Leon confesses, smirking down at you. “But now… I know what you really like,” his hand reaches down to the curve of your ass, pinching the plush flesh teasingly between his fingers.
“I-I’m not lewd,” you stammer out, your arousal dripping from your tongue. Leon takes in the sight of you—flushed and small in his lap, your body betraying your words as you began to grind onto the apparent bulge in his sweatpants.
“Stage one is denial, bug~” gently, he pushes you down to the floor, the movie and Mystery Machine blanket that covered you two long forgotten. You make no protest when he begins to tug off your pajama shorts, revealing the cotton panties beneath. Leon’s breath grazes over the white fabric, tickling your most sensitive areas as he smiles up at you from his spot between your thighs.
“So, what do you say, bunny? Do you want to play a game with me?” Leon chuckles darkly, his teeth pulling at gusset of your panties to pull them off. When they’re halfway down your thighs, he ducks to wedge himself in front of it before lowering himself to the slick between your legs, his plump lips immediately getting to work.
His tongue runs up from the bottom of your pussy and up to your sensitive little clit, teasing at the bundle of nerves with a few flicks of his tongue. Leon skims his giant hands over your thighs before squeezing them closer to his head, burying himself into your wet cunt like a man starved.
You moan out his name as you thread your fingers through his soft blonde hair, throwing your head back into the carpet as you feel his warm tongue bully itself into your wet hole.
“Tastes so good, bunny,” Leon groans, the vibrations of his voice against your cunt making your stomach churn. “All f’me, too—god,” he smiles before fucking his tongue back inside, relishing in the way your thighs hugged his head tight.
“L-Leon—“
“That’s right, bunny… Keep moaning like the depraved little slut you are,” your lover chuckled, the devilish tone dripping from his tongue. Leon began to focus on your clit as one of his hands left your thighs, teasing the entrance of your pussy with soft pokes and prods.
“Who would’ve known such a sweet girl like you could be so dirty~” Leon mumbles as he sucks at your sensitive little nub. “You like it when I call you slut, huh? You’re squeezing my head like I’m trying to kill you or somethin’, bunny.”
“Why don’t you beg for my fingers, hm? Let’s hear it, bunny~” the blue-eyed boy pulls himself away from your twitchy little hole, smirking at the sight of how fucked-out you looked despite him barely doing anything. His head presses against your thigh as he forces them apart, placing soft nibbles onto the plump flesh as he awaits your response.
“P-please, Lee…” you pant out, hands reaching out for him desperately as your hips bucked up. Leon remains in his current position, worrying bruises into your inner thigh as if nothing was happening.
“L-Leon, please… need you—“ your voice is shaky as you continue to beg, and that seems to do the trick as you watch your lover return to his spot buried between your legs.
“Perfect…” He smiles, his lips a breath away from your aching cunt. “My perfect little bunny, hm~? Let’s give you want you want now, slut~”
Without warning, Leon thrusts his thick fingers into your slick little hole, scissoring your entrance open as he sucks harshly on your clit. You cry as you feel his teeth graze against the little bud, eyes rolling back as his fingers pump a hair upwards to graze against that special little spot inside of you.
“L-Lee—!” You moan, breath hitching in your throat as you tugged at his hair. Leon makes no plans to stop, continuing his attack onto the most sensitive spots of your body as you squirm and squeeze beneath him. Every time your thighs clenched around him, he couldn’t help but chuckle with delight, relishing in every sensation you gave him.
“Feels so good, isn’t that right, bunny?” Leon coos, smiling coyly at the sight of your arched back and drool-covered lips. “Y’look so pretty like this, bug… Love eating you out.”
Leon digs his fingers deeper inside of you as he goes back to stimulating your clit, his tongue dragging letters onto your slick pussy with expertise. Your hips rock up onto his mouth, your jumper riding up your stomach as you squirmed. Your lover could feel your cunt squeeze with each thrust of his calloused digits.
“Y’gunna cum for me, bunny?” he hums. “Go on. Cum for me, slut. This might be the last time I let you feel this good,” Leon growls.
At his order, you release, your juices making a mess of your lover’s face as your hips twitch forward. Leon sighs with delight, lapping up every drop you give him as if he was never going to have another meal for the rest of his life. Groaning at the taste of you, he pays no attention to the way you lay boneless beneath him.
“Such a good girl for me, bunny~” he moans onto your pussy, obsessed with the flavour of you as his tongue drags itself in and out of your slick hole. Your shivered, trying to push him away from your overstimulated intimates as your eyes rolled back. He doesn’t budge, continuing to fuck you with his greedy tongue.
“Tastes so fuckin’ good… all f’me… all mine~” Leon mumbles between every lick, pussydrunk and loopy. He finally pulls away, your slick making a mess of his jaw and lips. His blue eyes stare down at you with a slight worry.
“You okay, bug?” He whispers, bringing a hand up to caress your cheek. You nod softly, lost for words as a result of your recent orgasm. Leon chuckles at your current state.
“So cute… Let’s get you a bath, n’then we can keep watching Scream in the bedroom, okay?” Leon helps you up to your feet before carrying you bridal-style immediately after. You make no argument, allowing the man to walk you over to the bathroom down the hall.
Apparently, watching Scream and making you scream are two different things, but Leon didn’t really care.
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uh. my first public smut i’ve ever written? hope u enjoyed the intro i guess bc this is one of the few times i’m gunna make leon be nice to u in this little collection :,]
comment if you want to be in the taglist, perhaps?
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thatoneyanderewriter · 4 months
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ghostface!coriolanus snow
tw: dark themes, possessive behavior, coryo is insane, so in character lolz, implied murder and stalking, blood, lmk if there is more.
I might explore this au a bit more but I’d like to hear from you guys.
“Lucy Gray, what are you doing? You ask your sister. “Going out, just for singing and stuff, you know how it is, She kindly replied.”You can come too.”
“I know a liar when I see one, you’re going to a party tonight, aren’t you? You smirk. “Maybe, but I do plan on singing, music wise, Lucy Gray laughed.”Again, you can come.”
“Nah, it’s fine, Alcohol and I don’t work together well, and parties aren’t my thing, You politely decline. It was true. And your parents wouldn’t be home for another week or so. Business and all that. You had cousins, Maude Ivory and Barb Azure, but they lived a bit further from you.
Lucy Gray was always the life of the party. She had more friends than you, was a straight A Student. You were jealous happy for her.
“Well, you know the rules, don’t tell, bye! she said, and leaves. she wasn’t always honest with you, but at least she was right now, and able to trust you with that information.
you made some popcorn after dinner, with soda of course. this town was quite peaceful, and up until last year, there hadn’t been much crime. that was, until a murder happened.
ever since then, things had been paranoid. everyone and everywhere. but overall, the town hadn’t changed other than that. In the midst of the movie, you get a call. “I swear to fucking god… You begin, then pick up.”Hello? Who is this?”
“Is Lucy Gray home?”
You sigh, always for your sister. You knew people but were mostly invisible.
“No, I can take a message for her though.”
“Okay.”
“So, what’s the message? You ask, suspiciously.
“Just a friend from school, asking about the project she agreed to be partners on. Gave me the number for the project. Uh, you know when she’ll be home?”
“No, sorry, I’ll tell her though, bye!”
“Wait-“
You sigh, unpausing your movie when only a few seconds later, the phone rings again. You groan, but pick up anyway.
“Hello?”
“Hello.”
“I thought you were leaving a message for my sister, shouldn’t you call back later?”
“Yeah, but you’re much more interesting to talk to.”
“I’m flattered, you say sarcastically.”Listen, there’s not much to talk about. I’m-“
“watching a movie?”
“how did you know that?”
“lucky guess.”
freaked out, you hung up and locked every door. someone must be watching you. closing every curtain, you tried your very best, you really did. you’ve watched scream a million times, you know how to play smart. or so you thought.
the moment you heard footsteps you grab a knife from your kitchen, stepping forward but back with hesitancy. this better not be ghostface, you think. but just your luck.
suddenly, ghostface appears, knife in hand and blood on the mask, it was hard to tell on the actual costume. that’s when you bolt, and run as fast as you can while dialing 911, until your wrist is grabbed and your phone drops, surprisingly not breaking.
ghostface turns you around with the knife in hand. he’s found you, you’ve lost, and you’re about to be dead.
“I do love a good chase.”
despite the voice modulator, you could visibly recognize it a little, the voice. but you squeeze your eyes shut, hoping your demise comes faster if you do.
suddenly, you hear a laugh. and that’s when you know for certain who is ghostface. “coryo? you whisper, with a tone of relief and fear.
“that’s right, doll.”
you open your eyes, that nickname was once sweet, maybe even attractive when he said it, but now it made you feel sick. “why would you kill people? you said.
taking it off of him, he holds your face in his hands.”had to make sure they knew who you belonged to, that’s all.”
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slasherbvnnie · 10 months
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Ordinary Love Story
Ghostface has his eye on you. You have your eye on someone else, someone who goes by the name Ethan Landry. The nerdy, curly haired boy who took your heart. Little do you know, he was one of three behind the mask.
Part II
Warnings: gore, dubcon, yandere-ish? ethan, somewhat naive reader,
Ethan Landry x f!reader
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In his head, this was like any other love story. Boy goes to college, boy meets girl, girl befriends him, boy falls for girl, boy has a hard time making girl fall for him. But tonight, it was the first time you finally began to fall. When you saw him and his eyes locked onto yours, you felt that weakness in your knees. It wasn’t long before you fell, all because of him.
His eyes watched you, while everything around the two of you moved at a fast pace, his eyes slowed and focused on you. He took notice of the beads of sweat on your skin, the way your chest was heaving up and down- your struggle to breathe, he even noticed your piercing scream when he approached. Your arms flailed, trying desperately to fight him off as he stepped towards you. His hands grabbed your wrist, the black fabric leaving a stinging carpet burn against your skin at how tightly he held onto you. “Shut. Up,” The voice behind the mask seethed out, to you the words were filled with venom and a promise that you would be dead soon, to him- it broke everything in him to have such a tone when speaking to you.
You let out a cry, kicking your feet helplessly as his other hand clamped over your mouth. When you had stepped away from the group, you hadn’t expected to see a mangled guy in Quinn’s bathroom tub. You had to use the restroom and the others were taken in the apartment, so Quinn was your last resort, unlucky for you- this one was taken as well. Quinn was on the floor, you couldn’t even tell who’s blood was who’s, which only made you even more scared and nauseous. However, when you saw the masked figure in the corner, you fell on the bloodied tiled floor, and with no other experiences where you had to fight for your life, your bodied panicked and shut down. Panic attacks were common for you, you just wished that this once it had happened at a better time. “You want to survive, don’t you,” the killer asked, you barely understood them but nodded anyways.
“then shut the fuck up and play along,” they told you, your eyes darted to the black holes in their mask, searching for their eyes, searching for humanity. You weren’t lucky in finding it, your vision was blurred thanks to the adrenaline in your veins, so you stayed quiet and complied, hoping it would at least buy you time.
“Good girl,” a hummed praise made it’s way to your ears, you sucked in another breath as you felt their knife run across your body. “Don’t move,” they said, their voice once again harsh as they made tears in your clothes, their knife was still bloodied, leaving the warm liquid against your skin and clothes. “Just stay still for me, you’ll make it out alive,” another hum left them, another nod left you.
It seemed like a game, one a cat plays with a mouse, entertain your prey before the final killing strike. You didn’t know if they were toying with you, making you pliable and all that much more fun to kill when they see that look of betrayal on your face. What you never guessed however was their want to pull off the mask, to let you see his face when he told you everything would be okay, to promise to you that no one would harm you.
When he was done dressing you in the blood, making sure you looked like a proper victim of ghostface- one he didn’t get the chance to ruin yet- he got up. “Don’t make a fucking noise. One noise and you’re done, along with your friends,” they threatened, you nodded. You flinched as they cleaned the knife, a small chuckle leaving his lips. At that moment you two heard noises near the door, you closed your eyes, holding your hands over your mouth to ensure you wouldn’t let out a cry for help.
You heard the door open, screams, and the rest of your friends panicking.
It felt like hours passed by until you heard the sirens. You heard footsteps, you saw an officer. You saw him break down as he saw Quinn’s body along with the scene in the tub. Another officer helped you out of the room, you saw the black body bags being wheeled out of the apartment. It was a little longer until you saw the rest of the group, minus Anika.
Before you even had the chance to step out of the back of the ambulance and asked what happened, Ethan approached the group only to get manhandled and questioned by Chad. Your eyebrows raised in surprise at his accusatory tone, watching Ethan trip over his words and try to explain himself. At the mention of econ, you remembered the nerdy boy asked you a question about some of the assignments given to you, going up to Chad and placing your hand on his back. “He’s not lying, he asked me for help just an hour or something before, a-about econ,” you said, Chad looking at you with narrowed eyes before backing off of Ethan.
Ethan coughed, looking to you and moving closer. “Uh, thanks, I appreciate you helping me out of a beating,” he thanked you, making you smile slightly for the first time in hours. “Is…is everything okay, I mean. Obviously not but…” Ethan gave up on speaking, looking to you expectantly. You sighed, feeling your eyes well up with tears as you shrugged. “I mean, I’m…physically okay, they- it…it was weird,” you spoke, gaining his interest when he tilted his head up.
“weird,” he questioned, you nodded.
“They, they let me survive…this, the clothes- they’re not…from them stabbing me,” you explained, pointing to the tears and bloodied holes in your clothes. Ethan’s eyes tracked over your body, taking in the sight of you, his eyes sparkling as he looked you over. “Why?” He asked, you shrugged.
“I’m not sure…they just- told me to shut up and I would live,” a sigh escaped you as Ethan hummed, moving with you to the rest of the group. “I’m glad they let you live, it must’ve been hell last night for you,” he said as you brought your hand up to your face, wiping away your tears. “Yeah, felt like forever,” you said, leaning on his shoulder, feeling exhaustion take over you. He welcomed in the small touch, letting you rest against him, his hand slowly wrapping around you to help you stand. The rest of the group were talking, trading ideas on what to do, who it was, why they were targeting you guys. Even Ethan’s name came up a few times from Mindy and Chad, which didn’t sit easy in your stomach. You didn’t like their accusations, but at the same time it was hard to stomach the thought that the vicious killer was him.
“Shit, Ethan, can I use your phone? I had…I had a class today,” you asked, to which Ethan gladly gave his phone to you. You went to safari, going onto the school’s website and putting in your login information, not noticing that the one already logged in wasn’t under the name Ethan Landry.
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moonlightazriel · 5 months
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Mask Off /// Ghostface!Azriel X F!Reader
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Summary: "can i please request one where azriel is ghostface and he terrorizes bad people, and he has a rival ghostface who interrupts his missions/steal his targets and it pisses him off so he plans to kill the rival, he has the ghostface pinned and takes the mask off, plotwist it’s his mate who is just as confused as him."
Warnings: Mentions of murder and blood.
Word Count: 2,2K
Notes: I'm completely obsessed with Scream for a really long time, so this request was so fun to do. Also, thank you @fieldofdaisiies for this amazing little Moodboard for this fic. Happy Halloween guys!
Main Masterlist
The lights flickered, and the sound of his boots against the wet floor contributed to the eerie atmosphere, the slight splash of water whenever he stepped on a puddle. Azriel felt his blood run hotter as anger spread throughout his being, pinned against a wall, throat slit open, was his target, a well-known rapist, the male he was supposed to kill tonight. 
On the wall behind him, written with the man’s blood:
“Too late, Mr.Ghostface! Maybe next time..” 
Consumed by rage, Azriel let his fist connect with the corpse’s face, the impact breaking the nose, but he wouldn’t mind, would he? 
He walked away, removing his mask and the cloak, revealing equally black pants and a t-shirt. He shoved everything inside his backpack and walked to where he had his motorcycle parked. He sat on top of it, mind still rushing with anger as yet another target was getting killed before he had the chance to do the job. 
Azriel knew that he was wrong on a certain level, but Velaris needed him, needed this. He was paid by someone named R to get rid of the bad people in the city, corrupt politicians, rapists, murderers, drug dealers, and all the scum that composed the underworld of Velaris. 
It was Cassian, his ex-military best friend who had suggested this to him, R paid well, and he was unemployed for a whole year, depending solely on the income from his wonderful mate, Y/N was the sweetest woman alive, she always helped him a and she was the light of his life. 
But her work in an office was barely enough for her to finish her college degree and for them to get going, with the Increasing of their rent, and everything else. He had to watch her work hard while his applications were denied, one after the other. So in a desperate measure, he accepted. And as much as he hated it and hated to lie to her even more, he was happy to be helping and keeping her safe from people who would harm her. 
At least like that, soon enough he would have enough for her to drop that awful job of hers, her boss would hit on her and make her life hell whenever she denied him, Azriel had to contain himself many times, how he wanted to get rid of him, for even thinking about laying a finger on his mate. 
He headed home, where Y/N was resting, trying to forget about his rival that was trying really hard to get him pissed. About two months ago he started to get where his targets were supposed to be, just to find them killed, dripping in blood and with their throats open. Pretty much like he did whenever he got to actually finish it. He was trying really hard to find who this was, cuz not finishing a job meant not getting paid. 
He slowly climbed into bed, his warm mate turning to his side, hugging him, kissing his arm in her sleep, her fresh scent as she had just walked out of the shower, relaxed him enough to fall asleep fast. The tiredness of the day weighed on him. 
⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆
“What about your trip?” Azriel asked, shoving a handful of cereals in his mouth as he watched Y/N sip on a cup of tea, her working clothes doing wonders to her body, he watched her up and down, stopping at her blushing cheeks, this woman would be the death of him. 
“He got a new secretary, I pity her, but at least he left me alone and I don’t have to travel with him anymore.” She said with a relaxed smile and he nodded. 
“Good, I hated when he took my mate away.” Which, to be fair, was quite often, not long trips, but often enough to annoy Azriel. 
“Not anymore, love.” She said, finishing her tea, and rushing to kiss him, before getting her keys and leaving for work. 
His phone buzzed on the countertop, a message from R telling him that his next target was chosen and he should be found at a party in two days. 
⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆
Y/N tapped her nails against the desk, feeling the anger creep up in the form of a cold shiver in her spine. Her boss was particularly annoying today, she closed her eyes. The image of the lifeless body, his blood warm on her made her squeeze the mouse between her left hand. She killed criminals, not really annoying men who didn’t know their places. Her phone buzzed. 
“The black party. In two days. Y. Slater.” It was all that said, she sighed. The money was good, another rich person trying to get rid of their enemies, it didn’t hurt that each one of her targets were bad people, someone who had done terrible things to others for their own gain. 
She had never killed before this, but as she saw the innocent hiring proposal for a bodyguard, and the really good amount of money they promised, she applied. She had a very vast knowledge of martial arts, and she could easily get rid of someone, so when the handsome male said what he really wanted, she agreed. The chance of a better life for her and her mate was beyond her morals. 
Not having to struggle with rent, college debt, and everything else. The thought of not living in that crappy place anymore, not needing to count every penny at the end of the month, and wanting to take him out and shower him with gifts made all the wrong things about the job useless. 
So she took a deep breath, deleted the message, and went about with her day, mind focusing on the amount of money she would have if she kept saving it. The only difficult part was to explain this to Azriel. 
⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆
Everyone wore black, and the masks also were present, so no one minded the masked figure lurking in every corner. Azriel kept a close eye on his target, the man was surrounded by people and a half-naked woman squirming on his lap. 
From the corner of his eyes, another hooded figure caught his attention, same clothes and the same mask, but significantly smaller. Azriel narrowed his eyes, looking like his second target arrived just in time. 
The party went on, and the other Ghostface remained rooted in place just like him, it didn’t seem like they saw him, which was good for him. The woman still squirming in the male's lap whispered something in his ear, he nodded eagerly and they got up, heading for a more secluded place in the luxurious nightclub. 
Y/N had spotted her rival as soon as she arrived, but her target was the main focus, annoying them was just a bonus. Rhys would send her on missions in another city, which led her to pretend to travel a lot for work, but as her targets got killed and Velaris was on a growing spree of bad people, he moved her here. 
She was always a step ahead of the other one, and this made her proud. She would linger a little longer sometimes, just to see them burning with rage, then she would rush home and pretend to be asleep, always the nice, dutiful mate. 
The woman who escorted the target yelled something about getting more champagne and left the room. As she passed by Y/N, the latter tapped her shoulder and warned. 
“Don’t come back.” She placed her indicator finger in the mask's mouth and the woman swallowed dryly, a shiver down her spine. She nodded, rushing away from the scene.
The room was big, a bed was placed in the center and mirrors filled the ceiling. Rich people really liked to show off. The door to the bathroom swung open and the male stepped out again, heading for the bed. Azriel opened the door, and the male jumped in his seat. 
“I think you have the wrong room dude.” Azriel walked closer in silence, blade in hand, shining in the dim light, the male’s breath got stuck in his throat and a tickle of sweat ran down his forehead. “Is it money that you want?” Azriel shook his head in denial. “I can pay whatever your price is, just leave me alone.” The male tried to get up but Azriel rushed, his knife sunk in the pale skin as the man tried to dodge. “WHAT THE HELL?” 
Azriel turned around, and the other Ghostface dared to show up, closing the door, only one of them would get out of this room, and most certainly would be him. He removed his knife, stabbing the man three more times before he turned to the other one, the male fell to the floor in a puddle of blood and agony, whining like a pig as he tried to crawl away from them. 
He launched for them, his big body overpowering their smaller one, they were sent with their back to the door, the air getting knocked out of their lungs, Azriel threw a punch, hitting the wooden door as they spun, getting out of the way, the other one kicked his stomach, making him curl as they darted towards him, circulating him and jumping on their back. 
The small arms wrapped around his neck as they tried to knock him out, the man kept crawling and agonizing towards the bathroom, his cries annoying both of the killers. Azriel stumbled backward, knocking them on the wall two times before they let go of him, he turned to them, punching them in the nose, this made Y/N dizzy and she used her knife, making an ugly slash across his forearm. Azriel hissed in pain and anger and his hands grabbed the small and very soft waist, tackling the other one to the ground. 
He sat on their stomach, pinning their hands to the ground with his right hand while the other one reached for the mask. A million scenarios passed through his mind, but in neither of them, the face of his mate would be bleeding behind that damned mask. 
Azriel didn’t say a thing, just watching the blood drip from her nose. From the punch he had given her. Her eyebrows scrunched in confusion as he didn’t fulfil his plans, instead, he reached for his own mask, her eyes widened as his flushed face was revealed to her. 
“Well, this is new.” She said, and it felt like he was awake from a trance, blinking, he took a deep breath. 
“I must say, I wasn’t expecting this.” He retorted, feeling the urge to laugh at the whole situation, while he was sneaking out to do his job, she was doing the very same. “Out of all people, I’d never thought it was you. Maybe Cassian or someone else.” 
“Cassian is in this too?” She asked in disbelief. 
“He introduced me to this.” He winked. “But you? Never you.”
“I’m not as sweet and innocent as you think, handsome.” She giggled and Azriel leaned in, kissing her forehead. 
“I see that sweetheart.” She scrunched her face in pain. 
“Can you get up? My head is pounding.” He quickly got up, pulling her with him, more blood dripping from her nose. 
“I’m so sorry, love.” He apologized. 
“It’s okay, we should probably see your arm, it’s pretty bad.” Azriel brushed her off. The male kept crying, trying to close the bathroom door. 
“Do you want to team up instead?” She asked, knife in hand as she walked towards the bathroom, Azriel watched as she stepped on top of the man, grabbing a handful of hair, pulling his head backwards as she lowered and slashed his throat, blood splashing on the white floor. “I was planning on actually killing you but I’m glad it’s you Azzie.” She winked and Azriel laughed at the similarities. 
“That’s funny, I was planning on killing you too, I’m glad I didn't do it, baby.” He pulled her closer. “We’re teaming up for sure, but only if you tell me how you tricked me last week.” He said, pulling her with him as they weren’t leaving a crime scene but rather a nice restaurant. 
“Of course love, if you show me how you tackled me down to the ground.” She turned to him, winking. “It was kinda hot.” 
Azriel laughed, they both got their masks back and he led the way back to his motorcycle. As they removed their clothes and masks he looked at her. 
“How did you get here?” He inquired. 
“Nah, got an Uber, rather easy to leave a crime scene like this.” She said with a laugh, looking at the mask in her hands before shoving it inside his backpack. “Do you think R would mind us using the uniform in bed?”
“What?” He asked, climbing the bike, she got up behind him, leaning closer to his ear. 
“You look so good in that mask, it would be such a waste not to use it, Mr.Ghostface.” She purred in his ear and he shivered, smirking as she got his helmet on her head, starting to drive home. 
“You’re such a temptation.” He barked and she giggled.
“Only for you, handsome.”
164 notes · View notes
queenendless · 6 months
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JJK MEN X FEM!READER FIC QUESTION!
Yep gonna try to write one to put out on Halloween.
A Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Toji x Fem!Reader gang bang indeed.
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Problem?
Do I make it a Vampire AU or a Ghostface AU?
Let me know down below.
🦇 or 👻
Cause moi is torn!
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chlorinecake · 7 months
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PART 2: GHOST FACE YANDERE imagine
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Blood On Ice | 얼음에 피 - a park sunghoon ff
⚡︎ cw: mentions of suicide, violence, character deaths, swearing, underage drinking, pregnancy/marriage themes, lgbtq+ themes, non-con scenes, heavy petting/kissing, ft. other kpop idols
⚡︎ summary: your unexpected pregnancy causes yandere!Sunghoon to grow unhealthily obsessed with you. the ex ghost face killer is then driven to dangerous extremes to ensure that you remain his (read part 1 and part 3)
⚡︎ wc: 13.6k (sorryyyy)
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❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆now and then
Love always had a way of making Sunghoon Park go a little mad at times. Though, the young charmer with a deviant undercut was more of a threat to himself than anyone else around him. His obsessive tendencies led to him developing an obsession with the very thing he feared most: losing someone he loved.
Coupled with his compulsion to protect that love at all costs, Sunghoon ranked up an impressive kill count over the past three years.
Some may consider his inner world to be one of blind devotions, vanity, and false justices. Another might ask what’s so monstrous about fighting for love?
Everything, Sunghoon would warn you.
He lived day after day, feeling like a menace in love's never-ending nightmare, when all he ever wanted to be was the hero. He thought that if he killed just a little more, that maybe love would hurt a little less. But, to be honest, there was more to Sunghoon's violence than noble love. In a world of prey, murder granted him power, even amongst predators, a power that would drive him to dangerous extremes for the rest of his life.
Sunghoon discovered his true self in the very darkness that haunted him. The same darkness he would eventually find you in, hoping that someday, your light might consume him and grant him peace. Besides, you were the only 'good' he knew after his sister's passing.
It caught him off guard, his feelings for you.
Sunghoon grew fond of you beyond the fleeting satisfaction your body bestowed him by force, or during tearful fits after he'd just beaten you senselessly.
Oh, he thought you were such a pretty crier, it gave him a rush he wished to feel forever.
You were addicting, his new favorite drug.
꒷꒦ 𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤, 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐠𝐨…
The sound of school bells shattered your fragile sense of contentment, signaling for you and the rest of your disappointed peer's to attend the most detested class of the day: Physical education.
That day's roster consisted of a brutal dodgeball game, girl's versus boys. You weren't typically in the mood to have rubber balloons launched at your head, so you successfully escaped class under the lie that you were experiencing unbearable cramps. Mr. Peterson, your P.E teacher, handed you a hall pass, dismissing you from participation.
You made your way to the ladies restroom, located only a few steps from the gymnasium. Walking up to one of the bathroom sinks, you checked yourself out in the mirror, only to be met with the sound of hushed sobs, coming to a full stop upon the realization that someone else had entered the restroom.
"Hello?" Your voice echoed against the faded tile walls.
Hiccup.
The suppressed cry that slipped from her throat gave away her hiding spot. You paced down to the furthest bathroom stall, your gym sneakers squeaking with each step.
Knock, knock, knock.
"Are you alright in there?" You whispered, pressing your face flush against the obviously unlocked door.
"Please, just go away," the sullen voice begged you.
You sighed, "I hope you're not naked in there, because I'm coming in, anyway."
The sobs only heightened in response.
"Three," you began counting down, "two... one," you slung the heavy door open, revealing a teary eyed Wonyoung Park, sitting with her knees to her chest on the cold restroom floor, still in uniform.
You got on your knees to meet her before handing her a tissue.
"Thank you," she frowned, blowing her nose.
Your gaze swiveled around the gloomy stall, spotting a rectangular blue box stuffed in the trash can.
Reaching for it, Wonyoung gently swatted your hand, pulling your attention back to her.
"Please don't look at that," she pleaded, using her delicate fingers to dry her swollen eyes.
"Why're you crying?"
"It's really none of your business."
"Tell me or else I'm looking in the trash can."
She scoffed at your threat, crossing her arms again. "What's it to you anyway? We hardly know each other and now I'm supposed to give you life updates?"
"I'm just looking out for you, okay? It's a pretty big deal to find a girl crying in a school restroom with no explanation."
Wonyoung toyed with the beaded bracelet on her wrist, letting your words sink in before responding.
"Fine. I'll tell you why, but only if you share a secret in return."
“Seriously?” You asked both offended and surprised at the simple exchange.
“Yes, now start talking or I'll change my mind,” she giggled, nose still stuffy from her crying.
“Hmm,” you pondered, sitting crisscross applesauce as you struggled to think of something. Then it hit you.
“Well, it’s actually a secret about my friend, Kazuha, if that’s okay.”
“Of course, now go on," she directed eagerly, peering in closer as you started to speak.
“Okay, so, it all started with Jay's house party during freshman year. A simple game of truth or dare led to us having to kiss each other."
"On the lips?"
"Yes, but it was only a quick peck. The next day, she confessed her feelings for me, but I rejected her for the sake of our friendship.”
By now, you could hardly tell Wonyoung had been crying, as her white eyes widened with pure shock.
“Kazuha’s a lesbian?!”
“Shh! Keep it down,” you whispered, eliciting a fit of giggles from Wonyoung. “And no, she’s bisexual. That means she's interested in guys and girls."
Wonyoung stared at the ceiling in thought, “Y'know, now that I think about it, I do remember her peeking at me in the showers a few times.”
“Wonyoung!” You whisper-yelled.
“What? I didn’t mind or anything. I just thought it was a little strange.”
“I think you're forgetting something, missy," you said, reminding her of the deal you made earlier.
“Oh, right. Sorry,” she smiled before her restored countenance returned to the sad expression you found her with. She swiped the cardboard box from the trash can, placing it in your lap.
It was a pregnancy test.
No more words needed to be exchanged for you to know why she was crying, but she went on to explain anyways.
"Me and Jun-Hwan were together a few times, and... I... we used protection, but... just don't tell my brother. Please."
"You won't have to worry about me telling a single soul about this," you replied, shoving the box in your gym shorts pocket to throw away later.
Back then, you and Wonyoung didn't know each other well, but you divulged secrets you wouldn't have told anyone else, sharing a bond just close enough to be considered 'pending friends.' Your silly pinky promises to her have remained unbroken to this very day, cherishing her secrets as if they were your own. However, your connection with Wonyoung was short lived, as you would eventually betray her for Kaz and Mads.
➠ sunday -❆- present, one month after your abduction...
5:56am
The sound of your vomit clashing with the clear toilet water every morning became somewhat familiar for you and Sunghoon over the past few weeks. First, you felt the urge angrily twisting in your stomach. Then, your cheeks started to sting from the acidic saliva forming underneath your tongue. On bare knees with a hunched back, clinging to the toilet bowl with all your might, Sunghoon held your hair back, gravely concerned for your well being as you threw up for the nth time that morning.
It goes without saying that Sunghoon handled you harshly at times, but your escalating symptoms led him to believe that it was more than just some strange abuse response you developed.
You also began to experience backaches and tender breasts.
“I don’t like being rough with you when you’re already weak, ____, so stop fighting back when I want to play with you.”
Fatigue and intense abdominal cramps made each day under his ruling seem like a century.
“Remember that you’re here to suffer, ____. This pain is something you���ll have to endure for now.”
And then…
You missed your period.
Clutching unto your nearest hand as if never wanting to let go, Sunghoon sat on the edge of the bathtub beside you, anxiously waiting for whatever result dared to appear on the two pregnancy tests.
He picked with the dead skin that made up his nail bed, shallow breaths escaping his rigid body.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
Sunghoon leaped at the sound of the alarm, reaching for the tests that rested dauntingly on the bathroom counter. Lifting the results to his eyes, his gaze softened at the sight of double positives, letting out a deep sigh.
"What is it, Sunghoon," you spoke softly, getting up from the tub to meet him. He set the tests on the counter again, turning to face you.
He took both of your trembling hands in his. "____," he began with a whisper, "I need you to listen to me when I say that I am never letting you go. Not with our child, and not without me."
Kissing the top of your head, he held you so impossibly close to him that you could hear his heart beating. “We must stick together now.”
And just like that, everything around you was suddenly changing, your foggy mind could hardly keep up. Sinking into his embrace, you felt both of your bodies simultaneously breaking and rebuilding themselves.
The news was heavy, but something about the idea of being a mother made you feel light.
➠ monday
6:27am
Despite how angry you made him at times, Sunghoon knew he had to tone down his hostility towards you. The potential baby’s health and safety became one of his top priorities, and he refused to risk it all on plain rage.
As far as your academic career was concerned, Sunghoon had clarified a while ago that your college plans were as good as forgotten.
Though, with a possible baby on the way, you were somewhat thankful for him making you drop out.
You and Sunghoon scheduled a doctor's appointment to have your pregnancy confirmed professionally before making any major changes. “So, you’re not worried about bringing me around people anymore?” You asked him, sitting with your legs crossed in the passengers seat of his car.
“I have no reason to be worried. You’ve learned better than to do or say anything stupid. Besides, I’ll be there the entire time. Now sit back and put your seatbelt on.”
You internally rolled your eyes, reaching for the seat belt before buckling it in.
Clink.
You pressed your body against the seat, reclining it backwards to relax your posture.
“Well, does that mean I can leave the basement more often now?”
He snickered to himself, shaking his head at your nonsense. The car rocked slightly as he drove past the stony trail.
“We’ll see what the doctor has to say about your condition. Then, I’ll decide from there.”
7:19am
It was still fairly early in the morning when you and Sunghoon arrived at the hospital. The parking lot was packed with cars and trucks positioned haphazardly in every which way. After finding a decent parking spot, you two made your way into the clinic, large sliding doors closing swiftly behind you.
Immediately, you were met with the sounds of the intercom, murmuring codes and directions from the ceiling speakers. Nurses dressed in pastel shrubs paced hastily up and down the hallways, greeting the two of you with simple yet friendly nods. “Good morning,” one of them would say, but you only waved back.
Eventually, Sunghoon's gaze fixed on the waiting room, guiding your steps as he held your hand. The row of chairs sat frail elderly citizens, runny-nosed children, and other eager patients waiting to be treated. You and Sunghoon found an idle loveseat located near a window next to the noisy air conditioner. You sat closely together, trying to absorb any warmth emitting from your shivering bodies. "How're you feeling?" He asked, toying with a loose thread hanging from your top.
"Nervous,” you admitted, avoiding eye contact with him.
"Don't be," Sunghoon whispered back to you.
That's when a tall man with round spectacles entered the waiting room, earning desperate looks from every person seated in the stuffy square.
"Hello, I'm Dr. Lee, but feel free to call me Heeseung."
Sunghoon left your side, standing up to meet the doctor before giving him a firm handshake. "Nice to meet you, Dr. Lee. My name is Sunghoon Park, and this is my girlfriend, ____."
'There's no way in hell he just called me his girlfriend,' you thought to yourself.
"It's a pleasure to treat you two today," he smiled while adjusted the glasses over his bottom nose, flipping through sheets of paperwork on his clipboard. "Let's see, you scheduled an appointment over the phone for an HCG blood test at 7:30 sharp... Okay! Everything looks great. You two can follow me to my office and I'll be with you shortly."
Heeseung started walking before either of you could respond, your legs mirroring his fast pace as he made his was around the maze of a hospital.
You were present physically, yet your mind was stuck on the image of Dr. Lee's face that stained your mind. He looked relatively young to be a doctor, with the attitude of a preschool teacher, full of glee and optimism. Your first impression of him was odd, though, at the same time, admirable.
Heeseung closed the office door behind you, directing with a simple hand gesture where you and Sunghoon could sit. He flicked on a light before taking a seat himself in a rolling chair, holding the clipboard and pen as if it was a color pallet and paintbrush.
"Okay, so I read something on your report about a previous drugstore pregnancy test?"
"Yes, she took two at home and they both came back positive."
"Awesome! Though, there's nothing wrong with wanting to be 100% sure, which is why we'll be sampling her urine today."
Oh, God.
"Estimate how long ago you suspected to be carrying."
"About two weeks ago,” Sunghoon answered.
"Mhm, and when was your last menstrual cycle?"
A temporary silence filled the room’s air.
"____?" Sunghoon rested a hand on your lap, snatching you from your thoughts.
"Erm, around 6 weeks ago. Sorry."
"It's alright, love. Appointments like this tend to be daunting for women your age. Anyways, if you are pregnant, a dating ultrasound is something you can look into. It helps us determine the precise size of an embryo, if that sounds interesting at all. From the sounds of it though, you're around 12 or so weeks."
Heeseung proceeded to fill the sheet of paper with neat cursive notes down, taking a sip from the Starbucks coffee that sat on his desk, the warm liquid slightly fogging up his glasses.
"Okay, so I have this fun little deer themed folder here, and this is where I'm going to store any notes or important information you provide. I’ll make a copy for myself so you can take this one with you when visiting other medical professionals. What sort of symptoms have you been experiencing, love?”
You looked up to the ceiling in thought, "Uhm, morning sickness has been a major one. I’ve also experienced some abdominal cramps."
"Hmm, I see. Ovary aches are entirely normal during the first weeks of pregnancy, and often follow a mother into her later months."
Simultaneously, your mind both appreciated and stressed over the information overload you were experiencing at this moment.
You understood that Dr. Lee was only trying to equip you with the best information and service possible, but you still couldn’t shake the nerves.
"How often are you and your partner intimate in the bedroom?"
Your heart sank at his question, the word “intimate” being quite far from what occurred between you and Sunghoon, and it rarely took place in a bedroom.
”I’m sorry, what?" Sunghoon asked, also in disbelief.
"How regularly do you and ____ have sex?"
You could feel yourself sweating now.
"Uh-”
"A few times a week,” Sunghoon answered for you again.
You felt so dirty after hearing him say that, it probably showed all over your face.
"And none of you have a history with STI’s or related diseases, correct?"
"Yes. I was her first and I got tested before we tried anything."
What a stupid lie.
Heeseung gathered the notes he made, tucking them into the deer folder. Returning to the clipboard, he flipped to a colorful page, looking up to meet your eyes.
"This is a mental health check sheet. I’m going to ask you a series of questions, and it’s imperative that you answer every single one honestly. Can you promise me that, Miss ____?"
You looked to Sunghoon for permission, and he nodded back to you. "Yes, Dr. Lee, I promise.”
"Awesome! On a scale from strongly agree to strongly disagree, you often experience feelings of anxiety."
"Strongly agree."
"Depression?"
"Agree."
"Calmness?"
"Somewhat disagree."
"Feelings of fear?"
"Strongly agree."
"Suicidal thoughts-"
"I think I've had enough of your silly questions!" Sunghoon interrupted, your body flinching at his sudden raise in vocal tone.
"I’m just proceeding with protocol, sir. I’m not trying to step on your anyone’s toes here. Nice shoes, by the way," the doctor joked, trying to lighten the mood, but Sunghoon wasn't having it.
"She's perfectly fine. Right, ____?” He asked, shaking your shoulder, “Aren't you happy?"
You felt your palms grow clammy, afraid of how Sunghoon might blow up on you for saying the wrong thing, so you kept quite.
"____, is your boyfriend making you feel uncomfortable?"
"You've got to be fucking kidding me."
Heeseung ignored him and continued counseling you, "It’s perfectly normal to feel anxious while answering such personal questions in front of your partner."
"Oh please," Sunghoon interjected.
Heeseung stood up from his rolling chair, standing a few inches above Sunghoon.
"Can you step out of the room for a bit? I’m trying to assess my patient and you're hindering the process. Considering my tight work schedule, I can’t afford to waste my time going back and forth with you."
"Sunghoon," you pleaded from your seat, giving his balled fist a gentle squeeze.
He responded by grabbing your wrist, dragging you from Dr. Lee's office.
"What," he spat harshly, tightening his lips as he pinned you to the now closed door.
"Your temper will only lead to trouble if you stay. I think its best that you step out for a bit while we finish."
His gaze fell to the floor as he considered your idea.
"Fine. I’ll be waiting for you in the car at the same parking spot. You have exactly thirty minutes to finish up with him, or else I’m gonna make sure you’re pregnant once we get back home, understood?” he asked in a low voice, sending shivers down your spine.
“I understand, Sunghoon,” you complied, afraid to meet his eyes.
He stormed off in the opposite direction, leaving you to sort things out with the doctor.
Considering your limited time frame, you rushed into Heeseung’s office, apologizing for Sunghoon’s behavior.
“How soon will results for a urinalysis come back?”
“Normally, no longer than five minutes,” he said, handing you an empty cup. “Take your time, love.”
The excitement you felt from knowing that peeing in a cup could save your ass was strange, yet enjoyable nonetheless. You returned the yellow sample to Dr. Lee, earning your third and final pregnancy confirmation within four minutes.
"Congratulations," Heeseung cheered, holding a bowl of colorful stickers for you to choose from. "I will be your general healthcare provider for the duration of your pregnancy unless any changes are made. I’m available during the week if you need anything, but expect to hear from me weekly,” he smiled as you fished through the stickers. “Don’t stress, just pick one intuitively.”
Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes befofe pulling out an oddly shaped piece of paper. “A snowflake,” you beemed softly, taking in the glittery periwinkle accents that made up the image.
“It’s been twenty minutes, Miss ____. I’m afraid your boyfriend is waiting on you.”
Your smile faltered, “What did you just say?”
“I said I look forward to treating you again. Have a blessed day, now.”
“R-right, uhm, you too,” you waved, tucking the sticker into your pocket before traveling down a few elevators, making your way to the parking lot. You could see Sunghoon still sitting in the driver’s seat, gripping the steering wheel as he awaited your return.
You sat beside him in the passenger’s seat, remembering to buckle up your seatbelt this time.
“How’d everything go?” He asked nonchalantly, immediately turning on the car ignition.
Pulling out of the parking spot, he made his way around the hospital, cruising down the interstate.
“I’m pregnant.”
➠ tuesday
6:53pm
The sound of Sunghoon's heavy footsteps from behind the basement door broke the little concentration you held while thinking. He unlocked the basement door and entered the still atmosphere, making his way over to where you were sitting. Placing a navy blue suede box on the table, he took a seat beside you.
“What’s this," you asked curiously, eyes trained on the dainty object.
“Just open it," he urged, fidgeting with his fingers.
He wasn't nervous. Was he?
You wasted no time reaching for the navy blue chest, flipping its golden latch open to reveal a shiny silver ring with the most dazzling violet stone at its center. Gold details encased the gem like protective roots of a tree.
You examined the ring further, noticing the name “Park” carved in hangul at its underside.
“Sunghoon-"
“It was my grandmother’s,” he began, stopping you mid sentence. He took the ring from your grasp and slid it down your wedding finger.
So many thoughts were running through your brain now. It was a tragedy how Sunghoon could switch from a complete monster to one of the most gentle creatures you've ever known during moments like this.
"It's beautiful," you admitted with a shaky voice.
He smiled. “You really think so?”
“Mhm,” you barely nodded, tears beginning to form in your eyes. You knew where Sunghoon was going with this, what he was going to ask you, and what your answer should be unless you wanted your tongue ripped from your throat. Sunghoon’s gesture likely arose for reason of you carrying his child. Though, you weren’t oblivious to his growing possessiveness of you. The crooked romance.
He took your hand in his and got on one knee, kissing your cold knuckles. He met your eyes, sporting a look on his face that you couldn’t quite read as you'd never seen his features so sickeningly soft.
“____, will you marry me?”
You fell to your knees at the question, even though you already knew it was coming. Meeting him on the ground, you fell into his arms, crying into the crook of his neck. The now familiar scent of him met your nostrils as your tears dampened his shirt.
Fuck, you could hardly pull yourself together.
Sunghoon smoothed the nerves of your back with the warmth of his hand, trying to calm you down. "Shh," he cooed, patting your head.
“I’m gonna need an answer soon, ____.”
Why wasn’t he forcing you into submission all of a sudden?
You broke from his embrace, wiping the tears that fell from your eyes. His hand was still busy running over your skin, trying his best to soothe you.
Placing your hands on his shoulders, you looked him earnestly in the face, taking what felt like the deepest breath of your life. You knew it was for the best. You knew you couldn't say 'no.'
“I’ll marry you, Sunghoon.”
The tension in his body disappeared out of relief. He took your chin in his hand, kissing you on the lips this time, eyes fluttering at the pure bliss your taste brought him.
“Thank you, ____,” he smiled softly, “I’ll try my hardest to make you love me.”
꒷꒦ 𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤, 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐠𝐨…
“She’s pretty for nothing with a personality denser than a brick,” Kazuha whispered, taking a bite of her burrito.
“Too bad her baby daddy’s six feet underground. I guess that means child support isn’t an option anymore,” Maddison added, feigning a pout.
“As if her spoiled rich ass would need it anyway,” Kazuha went on, wiping some sauce from the corner of her mouth.
“Wanna trade lunches? I’ve got tuna on wheat with French fries," you chirped in between the two gossiping girls.
“Hell no! I’m keeping my chicken wrap, girly. Enjoy your canned fish.”
“Oh God, here she comes,” Maddison said with a mischievous grin, eyeing Wonyoung as she walked through the cafeteria.
“Do you think her skirt is way too high or is it just her long as fuck giraffe legs?” Kazuha asked facetiously.
“I’m surprised she got past the school entrance with that on,” you observed, taking a sip from your water bottle.
“Hell, if I had a brother that looked like Sunghoon, I’d totally be down for incest,” Maddison shamelessly admitted.
“That was so random, get some help, chick,” you laughed, nudging her shoulder.
“Ugh, fuck, yes! Yes! Just like that, don’t stop. Mmm, feels so fucking good! Nghh, I’m gonna cum,” Kazuha performed with screwed eyebrows as Wonyoung sat down a few tables across from you and your friends. "Was that convincing enough, Wonnie?" Maddison poked, grabbing a handful of your fries before launching them in her direction. Salt remnants from the fried snack decorated Wonyoung’s coal black hair. She hid behind her bangs, terribly embarrassed from all the harassment. “Aww, looks like she’s shy with the lights on, ladies!”
Wonyoung got up from her seat with haste, walking towards the cafeteria exit as she carried the lunch tray with such a grip that her knuckles turned pink.
“Oh, you want us to meet you in the bathroom? Such a dirty girl,” Maddison cackled.
Those were some of the same sounds that kept Wonyoung awake at night.
“How’s your brother doing?” You asked, redirecting her attention on you.
“Why?” Maddison inquired back, sounding offended by your question.
“Dunno. Just thought I should ask.”
She took a deep breath before answering, “Max’s condition isn’t really improving yet, but the doctors are doing everything they can to help him get better.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” you and Kazuha said in unison.
“Don’t be. Being sorry is for homos, anyways.”
➠ monday -❆- present, one week later
9:30am
The hospital soon became a sweet place to you, an appreciated break from the basement you typically spent your days in.
Dr. Lee clarified the difficulties of distinguishing a baby’s gender as early as 13 weeks, but Sunghoon was desperate, scheduling you for a dating ultrasound.
Sunghoon wouldn't accompany you at the clinic today, due to academic obligations. In spite of his personal vendetta against you, he seemed genuinely serious about this new chapter in his life.
After stopping for breakfast at Café Royale, Sunghoon dropped you off at the hospital around 10 am, leaving for his first class of the day.
You made your way to the hospital’s fifth floor, greeting all of the friendly nurse faces that you'd grown to be more familiar with over the past week. There was a slight delay before Dr. Lee called you into his office.
"Good morning, Miss ____. Got any good rest last night," he asked, flipping through random sheets of paper on his famous clipboard.
"Morning, Heeseung. I don't work long shifts like you all week, so I really can't complain." Something about your comment made him smile.
"Oh, so I'm 'Heeseung' now? Or is that only when your boyfriend's not around?"
"Uh, it's not like that," you stammered.
"Relax, I was only teasing. You can take a seat on the metal bed for me and I'll be right with you," he said, rolling up his long sleeve turtleneck before slipping on a pair of blue latex gloves. "Alright, let's see what we have here," he began, sliding over in his rolling chair. He pulled your shirt over your stomach, massaging a clear gel against your lower abdomen.
"If I'm being honest, you seem nervous. Is everything okay, love?"
"Yeah, just a little anxious," you admitted, thinking about how desperately Sunghoon wanted a daughter, and the 50/50 chance he had at getting one.
"Well, I can assure you that you have nothing to worry about. Your recent blood work looks good, the baby glow is kicking in...you're in a good place, Miss ____."
"Ow," you winced at the pressure he applied to your stomach.
"Your baby bump is hardly noticeable, I'm surprised you felt anything, but discomfort is normal" he pointed out. "Everything feels great. He's gonna be a healthy fellow.”
“Or she," you blurted out.
"Of course. A little princess would bring all the more joy to you and Mr. Park's life... oh," he paused, running a finger over the scar above your navel.
“Was that from an impulsive high school belly button ring,” he laughed to himself, going to grab the x-ray handcamera. The memory of Sunghoon poking you with the knife reminisced in your mind. Shaking it off, you tried redirecting your mind on a different topic. “Not exactly,” you admitted, “I don’t think it’s best that you treat me anymore.”
Heeseung gave you an offended look through his glasses, temporarily retreating the x-ray from your stomach.
“What? Am I being too rough? I can be gentle, I swear! Or was it my dad jokes?”
You wanted to tell him the truth, tell him that Sunghoon was a psychopath who’d kill anyone he deemed a potential threat to his love. Deep down, you had feelings for Heeseung, and the sooner you cut off contact with him, the better. Not wanting to be responsible for taking away his smile, you came up with an excuse.
“I don’t wanna make anyone jealous.”
“Jealous? Who, Mr. Park? I mean, your boyfriend?”
The word 'boyfriend' floated around in your mind. What a horrendous word to describe your relationship with Sunghoon. You could hardly get over the fact that he was your fiancé.
A look waved over your features that led Heeseung to believe guess was right.
"Well, I'll finish up the ultrasound and give you a dvd copy of the footage for you and Sunghoon to watch at home."
"Home." All of this was becoming too much for you to handle right now.
“I know what it's like to deal with a paranoid partner, ____. I won’t persuade you to follow anything but your first mind.”
“Thank you for understanding, Heeseung,” you said as he ran the camera over your stomach, the mirrored TV showing the blurry scan of your uterus. "I'm just doing my job," he smiled, analyzing the screen with a finger. “It’s a girl,” he pointed as you tried to discern the image.
Pushing himself from the metal bed, he removed his gloves, grabbing two large disinfectant wipes from his desk, one for your stomach, and the other for the x-ray camera.
“I’ll send Mr. Park the credentials and office number of your new health provider after I sort some things out with another professional. You should expect to receive the necessary information by tomorrow evening.”
You took in all that he said, almost feeling like you made the wrong decision. Doctor visits wouldn't be nearly as enjoyable without Heeseung being there. Getting up from the metal bed, you tossed your purse over your shoulder, looking him in the eyes.
“I’ll see you next time,” you smiled, heading to the door. That was all it took for him to know that you didn’t actually want to stop seeing him.
“Oh, and ____?”
You turned, a happy smile displayed upon his face. He was so close to perfect, you could cry.
“It would make me, your baby, and the entire clinical staff exceedingly happy if you went home and ate a steak. Doctors orders and what not.”
A moment of silence filled the air before you laughed at his request, feelings a sense of joy dance in your stomach. A joy that Sunghoon tried so desperately to take from you.
"Alright, Dr. Lee. I won't let you down!" You replied, closing his office door.
Fabulous, now you have a crush on your doctor while secretly engaged to a ex ghost face killer who’s daughter you’re carrying.
➠ friday, a few days later
10:47pm
This was Sunghoon's very first time at a bar, and likely one of his last. Cosmetically, the establishment was a fan favorite, reeling in patrons on a hook of visual appeal. The menu offered a plethora of exciting drinks, ranging from vibrant fruity flavors to warm and creamy mixes. Still and all, the dreary atmosphere of the pub beckoned costumers in, lugging them into a depressive state that would linger til their hangover passed. For the lot of them, the aforementioned events would be relived again and again every Friday night after working a 9-5 job. They'd wash all their problems away with the help of a pricy drink and a few catchy songs before completely blacking out. Though, Sunghoon wasn't here for a half-decent time and cheap conversation. He was on a mission that involved a crowded environment with zero sober witnesses, a sharp knife, and the perfect victim: Maddison Dupont.
She was beautiful to say the least, with a radiant smile and cheekbones like a movie star.
Sunghoon remembered Maddison's hair being longer from when he last saw her at Wonyoung's funeral, but she cut it to her shoulders some time after, putting her natural brunette waves on full display. She wore a black leather jacker, black leather pants, and well, black leather booties. Sunghoon being the psychology major he was, had a habit of profiling people based off their appearance and body language.
'She's attractive and tall, wearing high boots with a short haircut. She wants to come off as intimidating, powerful, hence the natural makeup look. The all black get up likely alludes to hidden negative emotions, the parts of herself she wants to hide,' Sunghoon noted to himself, analyzing her from afar.
"I'll have a gin and tonic cocktail, with light ice this time," she said to the bartender, feigning an entitled persona.
"Hopefully you don't plan on ordering me around like this after my shift, Mads. You know I’m usually more dominant with women," the bartender replied, flashing her a smirk.
"Usually, huh? Is that an invitation?" She teased, using her tongue to seductively toy with a plastic straw, earning a shrug from the busy server as he prepared her cocktail.
"Depends."
She scoffed dramatically.
"Pfft. Why?"
"Because. From the looks of it, you use teeth," he replied, eyeing the way she nibbled at the tip of the straw.
"Oh c'mon! Don't be so vanilla-"
Screech.
Sunghoon pulled out a bar stool beside the talkative brunette, dragging it across the hard floor before taking a seat.
The bartender slid Maddison her drink, wiping the moisture from his hands before meeting Sunghoon's dark eyes. "Fresh face. Welcome in! What can I get for you tonight, sir?"
"Uhh, I'll start with a sample of your best whiskey and go from there," Sunghoon replied, glancing at the server's name tag: 'JAY PARK.'
"Hmm, we have the same last name," Sunghoon added, putting on a smile that Jay returned.
Maddison looked up from her cocktail, finally facing the mystery man who sat beside her. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the sight of him before a light bulb went off in her head.
"Oh. My. God. If it isn’t Sunghoon-fucking-Park live and in the flesh. Please tell me you remember who I am," she pouted hopefully in her naturally raspy voice.
Maddison was always a fast talker, her friendly smile and youthful nature often winning her a sense of popularity and close companionship. It’s one of the main reasons why Sunghoon was here tonight. Despite Kazuha’s venomous tendencies, Maddison was the head “mean girl” back when Wonyoung was in high school. The primary instigator and initiator of every wrongdoing that his little sister endured up until her passing. For Sunghoon, letting Maddison live after everything that happened wasn’t an option. He decided to retire his ghost face attire after Kazuha, as it was only gonna get in the way of fulfilling his mission smoothly. After talking to a few of her colleagues, it was easy to determine Maddison’s precise whereabouts on a typical Friday night like this.
"Yeah, you went to high school with my sister. I could never forget that."
"I- I don't even know where to start! Uhm, you can call me Mads," she smiled, reaching out to shake his hand. Her breath hitched at the mere contact with his skin, sending a rush of nerves through her stomach. Or maybe it was the shots from earlier starting to kick in?
"Wow, I never thought you could get more handsome! It’s crazy how time flies, you know? Gosh, I used to have the biggest crush on you back then. Wonyoung hated me for it.”
I’m sure that wasn’t the only thing she hated you for, he thought to himself.
“Wait- I’m being rude! How've you been these days? It's been forever!"
Jay rolled his eyes at Maddison's gawking, his cheerful serving demeanor faltering in the presence of Sunghoon. It was barely two minutes ago that she was seducing Jay with a straw of all things, and now, the chances of him and her hanging out later were slim to none. He placed the bottle of whiskey back in its respective place on the alcohol shelf behind him, handing Sunghoon a short glass of the sample he'd ordered.
"I've been good, thanks for asking. College is kicking my ass at the moment, but there's this one girl who's been keeping me company. A sweet distraction, if you will."
He lifted the cup to his lips, taking a thick sip of the bronze drink before letting the flavors meddle on his tongue. It was an aromatic blend with notes of French vanilla, cinnamon, and hazelnut.
"What do you think," Jay asked, searching Sunghoon's features for any clue.
"It's delicious! I'll let you know if I need anything else."
"Of course," Jay bowed before busying himself with other costumers. That was better than watching Maddison ogle over Sunghoon Park for the next hour.
She noted that Sunghoon mentioned another girl, so she toned down her excitement.
"So, are you in school, too?"
"Nope. I forfeited all my scholarships after Max passed. I just didn't have the drive to do it anymore. Not without my twin," she paused, swallowing the lump in her throat before continuing.
"Now I work at a call center during the week and every Sunday, I volunteer as a tour guide for the city.”
Sunghoon simply nodded in response, the memory of murdering Max reliving itself behind his dark eyes. He wondered if Maddison's screams would sound anything like Max's did. They both had pretty big mouths, after all.
"I get where you're coming from. Sorry for your loss, Max was a good guy," Sunghoon said, forcing an empathetic expression upon his face.
"No worries, hun. We both know what its like to lose someone we shared the biggest part of ourselves with. The person we loved most," she replied, picking up her drink and holding it in the air. "A toast. To staying strong and treading on after all of life’s fucked up happenings," she added, showcasing her striking blue eyes.
"To surviving! Cheers," Sunghoon smiled, returning the gesture.
Clink.
Their glass cups collided, taking the final sip of their drinks in unison.
Sunghoon placed the empty glass on the countertop, tucking a one hundred dollar bill under the coaster before getting up from his seat.
"I'm gonna head outside for a bit," he said, walking toward the bar exit, disappearing into the black of the night.
Maddison placed a twenty under her drink, glancing at the exit before getting up from her seat.
Jay reached over the counter and grabbed her hand, eagerly trying to get her attention now.
She turned to face him, giving him an impatient look.
"Mads, you're not gonna go anywhere with him, are you?"
"Oh, please. Don't be so jealous-"
"I'm not being jealous. I’m looking out for you," Jay clarified, his voice sounding more serious.
"Just promise me you'll be careful."
"Jay."
"Promise me, Maddison!" Jay half-yelled in desperation.
She sighed, leaning over the bar and looking him I the eyes.
"I promise," she smiled softly, kissing the birthmark on his neck, causing his grip on her hand to loosen before completely letting go.
"And thank you, Jay. For everything! The cocktail was lovely," she added, giving him a playful high five.
“Any time, Maddie. See you around,” he replied, trying to mask the growing blush on his cheeks with coolness.
“See ya,” she waved, heading out of the bar to meet Sunghoon.
It didn't take long for her to spot him, standing beside his shiny black car. The sound of her boots hitting the damp pavement echoed through the parking lot, gracing Sunghoon’s keen ears.
Bingo.
"Nice car," she complimented, running a hand through her brown locks. Sunghoon didn't respond, simply unlocking the car and getting in the driver’s seat. His window's were rolled down, compelling Maddison to go against the very thing Jay just asked her not to do. Peering at him from where she stood, she placed her hands on her hips, voicing her request.
"Would it be too much if I asked you to take me on a joyride?"
11:19pm
Sunghoon was getting used to chauffeuring around naive young women after hours. He happily obliged to Maddison's foolish petition, as we both know he had other plans for her tonight.
“You’re not some kind of serial killer, right?” Maddison asked, about three minutes into the ride.
"Would you chicken out if I said yes?" Sunghoon teased her, gripping onto the steering wheel.
"You're cheeky."
"And you're playing a dangerous game with your life, young lady."
“Tell me about it,” Maddison replied nonchalantly, digging into her jacket pocket before pulling out a tiny cardboard box.
Click.
A warm light flickered beside him.
Click.
The sound of a hot flame against a dry object hit his ears.
Sunghoon finally looked away from the road to find that the source of the clicking was coming from the purple pocket lighter Maddison held in her hand, desperately trying to light a fresh cigarette.
“What the hell are you doing?” Sunghoon asked in disgust.
“Roll down a window or something,” she replied without meeting his eyes, inhaling the hot fog before blowing it past her plump lips.
“I don’t care if you wanna punish your lungs for keeping you alive everyday! Just don’t smoke in my fucking car!” Sunghoon reprimanded her through gritted teeth. He didn’t mean to raise his voice at her, but the anger was starting to override his composure.
“Has anyone ever told you how hot you get when you’re bossy?” Maddison joked, giving his tense thigh a playful squeeze.
Oh, the way Jay would cry just to hear her say that.
She stared out the window again, her thick brown waves following her movements.
“Would it kill you to respect my vehicle?”
All she did was snicker in response, a clicking noise filling the air as she toyed with purple pocket lighter once again.
She took a moment to yawn, reclining her jaw before answering. “Hmm. Probably not, but I don’t really care to find out, anyways.”
Click.
The tip of the cigarette burned red as she focused intensely on the simple action of lighting it.
Sunghoon looked from the road, eyes burning with rage as she put the cigar between her dry lips, inhaling yet another puff of toxins into her body.
Stretching her neck up, she blew the smelly cloud against the ceiling, staining the roof of his car and fogging out the windows.
He snatched the hot stick from her grasp, her head springing up immediately, eyeing him lustfully. “So we’re getting handsy now, I see. How would your girl feel about thi-“
Sunghoon shoved the red hot end of the cigar into her neck, sizzling her pale skin to a burnt hue.
“Ahh! You crazy bastard,” she yelped in shock, using her arm to push him away from her, but he had already parked somewhere in the forest, exiting the car with a harsh slam of his door.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going,” she yelled out for him, stammering from the vehicle with unstable steps.
She was way more drunk than she would’ve liked to admit, explaining her strange change in behavior.
By now, Sunghoon was walking into his log cabin, waiting patiently at the kitchen dining table for her to come out looking for him.
A kitchen knife sat idly on his lap as he gripped its handle in his right hand.
Maddison observed the cabin before running in, following the trail of dirt his shoes left behind him. Whipping around the kitchen corner, she spotted him at the table, laughing at a thought in her head. “Are you gonna declare a thumb war or something,” she cackled, not sure as to why Sunghoon ran to the kitchen of all places. She went to touch her neck, flinching at the sore he burned on her, reminding her why she chased after him in the first place. All he did was sit and stare at her, maintaining deadly eye contact. Maddison was far from intimidated, walking towards him with a dumb smirk on her face.
“You’re a freak, y’know that Sunghoon?” She spat, shaking her head again. “An empty-hearted spoiled freak!” She landed a harsh sting across his cheek, her own hand hurting from the act. Her chest heaved, trying to catch her breath from the minor exertion of energy. Her lack of sobriety was really taking a toll on her physically.
Screech.
Sunghoon pushed himself away from the table, standing up a few inches over her with the knife in his hand.
She simply glared at the weapon, chuckling to herself again.
“Is that supposed to scare me, little boy?”
He tilted his head at her ignorance, mirroring the smirk that rest upon her features. Playing with the tip of the knife, Sunghoon closed the space between her and him to the point where they were only a mere kiss apart.
“Hmm. Probably not, but I don’t really care to find out, anyways.”
The knife cut through her stomach like butter as she hurled over his hand, widening her eyes at the intense pain. He shoved the knife even further, causing a weak whimper to fall from her mouth. Guttural coughs filled the atmosphere as blood trickling down his hands from how closely the blade impaled her. Sunghoon pouted facetiously at how pathetic she appeared in front of him.
Releasing herself from the blade, she senselessly tried to run away. Though, Sunghoon could keep up with her hindered pace just by walking.
“Get the hell away from me!!” She screamed at the top of her lungs, the cigarette and lighter falling from her jacket pocket.
She made her way outside to the front porch, taking a seat against the closest tree she could get to before her strength ran out. Sunghoon soon met her outside, holding a jug of gasoline in one hand, and her purple lighter in the other.
She looked up from the puddle of blood she was creating on the grass, shaking her head in misery at the sight of this deranged Sunghoon.
“Please, don’t do this to me,” she sobbed, black tear marks from her eyeliner staining her cheeks.
Splash.
The pungent odor of the gasoline burned her nostrils as the cold substance leaked from her head to her lap.
“Oh my God,” she sniffled, squirming under his dark shadow.
Click.
“Speaking of, maybe God can roll down a window for you. Or… something,” he shrugged, tossing the lighter onto her lap as flames engulfed her entire body, the sounds and smells of death disturbing the tranquil forest air.
“Hmm, turns out her and Max do have the same screams.”
Maddison died within a few minutes, but her body continued to burn for the next hour or two. Sunghoon would eventually bury her corpse that morning once it cooled down, only to wash away the scent of smoke, blood, and any other trace of her for the remainder of his day. Afterwards, he would figure out what to do about his smoke show of a car.
What a lovely way to spend one’s weekend off.
➠ sunday
“I saw Maddison at the bar the other night.”
Your heart jumped at the name of your friend from high school. She went totally radio silent after her brother passed away. You remember her giving up sports and even college because of how broken she was after everything. You couldn't help but wonder how her life was turning out so far.
“Really?" You inquired eagerly. "What'd she say? How is she?”
“Dead,” he smiled sinisterly before sitting behind you, caging you between his long legs as he massaged your scalp.
You could feel your hands start to shake with a mix of different emotions, none of which being positive.
He really did it again.
“You said you wouldn’t kill anymore people.”
“She was the last person on my hit list, ____, and you know I have my reasons. Just be lucky that your relatives are still in the picture.”
You wouldn't put it past Sunghoon to hurt your family. He was a cold blooded killer and murder was like second nature to him.
“It’ll never stop with you. You'll never stop hurting people. You can't."
“Relax your mind, princess, stress isn’t good for the baby.”
“Neither is a deranged psycho killer for a father who keeps mommy locked up in a basement for days at a time, but what do I know? At least parent career day's at school will be interesting,” you thought to yourself.
Ahhh!
Sunghoon balled a handful of your hair in one fist at each side of your head, aggressively tugging at the strands.
You just realized that you said that out loud.
He pulled tighter as you held in your groans, forcing choked whines to spill from your lips.
“S- Sunghoon! Let go!” You whimpered, reaching for his feral grip on your hair with desperate hands.
He twitched in his pants at the agonizing sounds you made. He never understood why he found a terrorized you so arousing.
You felt your bottom lift from the ground before plopping back down with a loud thud, your scalp stinging with hot pain. Surely you had a few bald spots now.
“Massage time’s over,” Sunghoon growled before finally releasing his tantalizing grip from your hair, only for him to pin your wrists to the cold wooden floor. The look in his eyes was enough to have you scared shitless.
“I’ll show you just how deranged I am.”
He flipped you on your stomach, pulling your hips towards his bulge. Linking his fingers at the waistband of your underwear, he pulled your bottoms down to your knees, followed by his own.
He pried your legs open, revealing a string of wetness coating your swollen lips. He almost drooled at the sight, lining his tip at your throbbing hole before shoving himself in. He started to pump you from behind, squelching noises filling the rooms humid air. Tears started to pour over your eyelids, hitting the cold floor like raindrops. Sunghoon wanted to savor every ripple that made up your heat, but his desire to come caused him to thrust at an extreme pace, wobbly moans escaping your mouth. Your face was now flesh against the flood, his rough palm pushing into your cheek as you bounced against his pelvis, swallowing his cock. He leaned down, sticking the middle and index finger of his free hand into your mouth.
“Suck it,” he ordered, and you did, parting your mouth for him as your warm saliva coated his fingers. “Harder than that, princess,” he encouraged you, tightening your lips around his digits. You were started to feel dizzy from all the different sensations.
“Fuck” he grunted, flipping you on your back before pumping into you again at the same pace. He traced a tear that fell down your cheek with his tongue, leaning closer to whisper in your ear.
“Kiss me,” he nearly begged, grabbing at your jaw. You shook your head beneath him, pleading with your eyes for all of this to stop.
Slap.
You winced at the sting, a choked sob slipping past your lips. He forced your lips open with his hand, spitting in your mouth before dominating your tongue with his own, a string of saliva webbing from your lips to his as he broke from the sloppy kiss. You whimpered at his act, vision becoming blurry from the tears clouding your eyes. You reached up a hand to cover your sobs, the sounds being too gruesome even for your own ears.
“Don’t be shy, baby, I wanna hear how badly you want this, how good I’m making you feel.”
Your started to feel numb from all of his thrusting, regretfully clenching around him.
“So fucking good, baby,” he cooed, moving his hand down to stimulate your throbbing clit. He maneuvered the pallets of his fingers in circular motions against your sensitive spot, causing you to moan loudly.
“Look at you? Losing your mind all over my cock,” he leaned down, biting into your shoulder. “Come for me, yeah?”
You cried at the sharpness, arching your back. He was beyond delusional.
“That’s not an answer, baby.”
“F- fuck, Sunghoon, I can't t-take this anymore, just shut up” you whimpered, tears wetting the back of your head.
He held your knees at an angle, grinding into you like his life depended on it. You could tell that he was close because of how his thrusts quickened. You dreaded that you could feel your own climax taking over you, as your body tensed up before you came all over his dick. Shortly after, he painted your walls with warm spurts of his pearly release. Slowing down his movements, he ran his palms over your legs, trying to ease your shaking from the overstimulation. He kissed your lips one last time before pulling out, readjusting your clothes first before fixing his own. He lay down beside you, cradling your exhausted body in his arms before drifting off to sleep.
➠ tuesday
You’ve been living with Sunghoon for the past three months, and he was never one to feed you according to nutritional values. You weren’t sure if it was a part of punishment or simply a lack of consideration, but your daily diet was limited to canned foods or broth. So when you told Sunghoon that Dr. Lee advised you to incorporate more steak into your diet, he wasn’t too fond of listening.
Instead, he’d get dressed in hunting apparel, losing himself for the next hour before bringing you a slab of mystery meat that he wouldn’t even eat with you. He’d just rest it on your plate with a drizzle of olive oil, and tell you to ‘eat up.’
“I appreciate your gesture, Sunghoon, but I can’t help to ask what you killed for this?”
Sometimes, talking to him was like walking on egg shells. He always wore the same blank face, so you never knew if your words would earn you a harsh slap or kiss on the lips. You tried your best to season every sentence you spoke to him with propriety and respect. It was one of the only ways you knew to protect yourself.
He’d conceal the growing mischief that wanted to show as a smile on his face, simply pacing around the kitchen with his hands behind his back.
“Only the forest’s finest for my mother with child,” he teased.
“Sunghoon,” you pressed, not being in the mood for his sarcasm.
“I’ll tell you once you finish it. All of it. Now hurry before it gets cold,” he warned, taking a seat across from you.
The kitchen fell silent as you used a fork and knife to divide the meat into small bites. The taste was gamey, and rather tough in texture, but you commended Sunghoon on seasoning it well.
He stared intently at your every movement as if anticipating something.
You were about half way done when he stood up from the table, walking towards the kitchen pantry.
Sunghoon grinned to himself, reaching his arm into the closet and pulling out a female’s dead body from behind the door.
“She’s a little past her expiration date, but I’m sure she tasted splendid nonetheless,” he quirked, flashing you a grin so devilish that his fangs showed.
You looked down at your plate and noticed a strand of wavy brown hair sticking from under the meat.
Oh my God.
“Maybe we could start selling “prime Maddison” at the market! Talk about a limited time offer!” Sunghoon laughed as if their was an audience. Meanwhile you were on the verge of vomitting.
Sunghoon was gripping Maddison’s corpse by a handful of her hair, a few of her once beautiful teeth missing from her swollen black gums. He punched her skull in the face, using the hair as a way to maneuver his newfound punching bag, chunks of decay flying from his knuckles. You assumed he got bored of that as he dropped her body, walking over to the windowsill before picking up a steaming pot.
“Bone appétit,” he chimed, pouring the contents of the hot pot into a small bowl for you. Human teeth were swimming in the mixture, with what appeared to be a few toes in there, too.
“Eat it!” Sunghoon ordered, beating on the table with death stained fists. Tears poured from your eyes like waterfalls as he screamed his lungs out, spit flying from his agressive commands.
Growing impatient, he walked around the table, grabbing you by the throat.
“I said eat it, you stupid bitch!”
You woke up heaving for air, your clothes clinging to your body from your night sweats. You looked around, but the room was so dark that you couldn’t see anything. “Sunghoon!” You called out for him, but to no avail. You were completely alone in the basement, like you always were, but a part of you desired comforting so desperately. You wanted him to hold you close and make you feel safe.
Though, it’s hard to feel safe in the arms of someone you’re deathly afraid of.
You felt the urge to cry creeping up on you, but you decided to lay back down instead, wincing as your sore scalp sunk into the pillow.
Thankfully, this was all just a very bad dream.
꒷꒦ 𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤, 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐠𝐨…
Sunghoon and his figure skating group wanted to take a camping trip during their break from training. The team coach promised to finance the rest of the trip if they raised $300 organically by the following week. Wonyoung offered to help by hosting a bake sale at her school. With her free-time after class, she visited the library in search for a French patisserie recipe book. Meanwhile, Sunghoon was at the grocery store, shopping for fresh fruit, overly expensive dark chocolate, and whatever other ingredients his sister outlined on the list. She paced through the book shelves, noticing a group of jocks huddled around a table. Tuning in an ear, she eavesdropped on their conversation, continuing to analyze the book catalogs.
“Bro, I think he got her pregnant,” she heard one of the boys whisper, stopping her dead in her tracks.
“I don’t even believe he’s slept with her before,” another guy added.
“Mhm, and why’s that?”
“First of all, Sunghoon would kill him, second of all, she’s a literal child.”
“Shit, I’d sleep with her in a heartbeat. Child or not, we can do it at the playground if that makes her more comfortable," Maddison's twin brother grinned slyly.
“Gross, Max, she’s like your cousin's age."
“Jun-Hwan said something about Wonyoung practicing her moans for him?”
“Yeah, probably while he was pumping her with his baby batter. I hope she knows that’s not how you make cupcakes.”
The boys burst into laughter, earning an aggravated look from one of the librarians.
“Sorry,” Max mouthed quietly.
“Yeah, you’re gonna be. I bet Sunghoon’s already writing you punks down on his “do not admit” list,” the one with glasses retorted, getting up from the table before leaving the obnoxious group.
Wonyoung was still listening from behind the book shelf, swallowing the lump in her throat that dared to flatten into tears. She tried reminding herself of what Sunghoon would tell her everyday.
“Ignore the rumors, don’t let them take away your smile, Wonyo.”
Though, these words sat in the back of her mind as she made her way over to the jocks table, unintentionally balling her fists.
“Who told you that?” She inquired with a clenched jaw, interrupting their perverted gossip session. They looked as if they’d seen a ghost at the sight of her, completely speechless as they simply stared back. “W-what are you talking about?”
“Oh my God, just spit it out!” She yelled, not trying to keep her voice down anymore.
“Jun-Hwan did,” one of them shyly admitted, not meeting her face out of shame.
Wonyoung went to find Jun-Hwan, hoping that he would deny sharing things about her and their breakup behind her back. She knew exactly where to find her ex-boyfriend after school. It was the same place they'd usually meet to fool around: an abandoned bunker near the bleachers because Jun-Hwan hated anything too cliché.
She crawled into the bunker, finding Jun-Hwan with his tongue down some girls throat. Wonyoung didn't recognize her, but from the looks of it, she was around her age. The horny youths disconnected their lips with a wet pop at the realization of Wonyoungs presence. The girl hid her face in Jun-Hwan's shoulder while he met Wonyoung's anxious features.
“Is it true?”
“Is what true, Wonnie?”
“That you told people about us? About me?”
“God, would you slow down with all the questions? I was kind of in the middle of something here," he spat, pointing a hand at the girl who straddled him.
“Please don’t make me ask you again, Jun.”
He let out an annoyed sigh, “Okay. Fine. Yes. I told people. I don’t get why you have a problem with that, though.”
“Jun, I asked you not to tell anyone about us.”
“Yeah, when we were together. But you wanted to break up, remember?”
“You know that decision wasn’t up to me. Why’re you being so cruel all of a sudden? You could at least pretend to care about my feelings.”
“Hey, Wonyoung? Fuck off, alright? I don’t have time for your juvenile high school bullshit. Now go finish making fruit tarts with your brother or something.”
The saddened girl adjusted the backpack strap over her shoulder, wiping away the moisture that fought to escape her eyes.
“Okay,” Wonyoung whispered. “I’ll see you around, Jun-Hwan. Sorry for bothering you.” She sniffled one last time before crawling out of the bunker and beelining back home.
➠ wednesday, present
9:04am
Sunghoon dropped you off at the hospital for another check-up right before class. He gave you $50 in bills of five to last you til he came back. Still shaken from last night's events, it took you ten minutes just to work up the courage to sign-in for your appointment with Dr. Lee.
"Right this way, Miss ____. Feel free to wait in the visitor's lounge until Dr. Lee gets back. It's rare that any of our patients have visitors, so you should feel more comfortable there," the friendly nurse smiled, completely aware of your fragile emotional state. You took heed to the nurse's advice, entering the visitors lounge before taking a seat at one of the tables. You were thankful for the dim lightening of the empty space as you felt an intense panic frazzle your senses. Holding your own hands in an attempt to comfort yourself, you tried redirecting your attention on controlling your breaths. Looking down, you noticed the darkening bruises on your wrists from Sunghoon's abuse, pulling down your sleeves to cover the marks.
"____?" A concerned voice called from behind you, resting a hand on your shoulder. Your body jumped at the feeling, immediately relaxing as you turned to meet Heeseung.
You were unaware of your own tears streaming down your cheeks until Heeseung reached out to capture the droplets with the back of his hand. That's when he noticed the scuffs on your cheek from Sunghoon forcing your face into the floor, dried-up blood poking through your exposed scalp.
"Oh my God, what happened to you?" He asked, kneeling down to meet your height in the chair.
Your lips quivered into a frown as you shook your head frantically, shutting your eyes tightly at the memory:
“I’ll show you just how deranged I am.”
Before you could realize it, Heeseung was already holding you in his arms as you wailed into his shoulder. He ran a hand down your back, trying to soothe your nerves.
"Sunghoon... h-he's a monster," you confessed, telling Heeseung everything in your moment of weakness. You told him about Wonyoung, Kazuha, and Maddison. You told him about the log cabin and the things Sunghoon did to you in private. You couldn't keep hiding your pain anymore.
“____," he began with a sorrowful expression, breaking from the hug, "it’s not too late to get rid of the baby.”
You furrowed your eyebrows in frustration, “Why the hell would you even suggest that? I have to keep her! She's my child!”
“He assaulted you, ____, and your child will have to live everyday of her life knowing that. I won't persuade you into making a decision, but either way, I will do everything in my ability to get you the help you need.”
Your gaze fell to the ground as you tried to process all of your options.
"Hey," Heeseung said, grabbing your chin to meet his face again.
"I need you to listen to me when I say that I can't just let you go. Not with Sunghoon, and not without a fight."
You stared into Heeseung's glistening eyes, kissing him in the heat of your emotions. He pulled back, looking at your desperate features before diving back in, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. You used your weight to pin him on the ground, melting into his honey-like touch as he explored your nervous skin.
Something about this moment felt different from the dark affection you'd grown used to from Sunghoon.
Heeseung felt light, energizing your entire body from the outside in. His body was warm and smelled like lilac, a new yet welcoming scent. Snaking a hand under your shirt, he fondled with your breasts as you trailed your own hand down to his bulge, palming him gently. He moaned into your mouth before you broke from the kiss, already missing the heat of his tongue against yours.
Looking down at his frame, you took in his disheveled hair, wrinkled shirt, and flushed cheeks. Retreating your hand from his hardness, you were reminded of the silver band that rested upon your ring finger.
"What is it," Heeseung asked, still trying to steady his breathing.
"I... it's...," you stuttered in a quiet voice, "Sunghoon and I are engaged.” An empty feeling washed over you at the unfortunate reality.
“Y-you...what?”
“He asked me to marry him last week, and...I said yes.”
Your confession meddled in the air for a moment, before Heeseung swore to himself, guiding you off of his lap.
“Forgive me, ____. I should've listened when you said we should stop seeing each other,” he frowned, considering how unprofessional his actions were.
Standing up from the ground, he offered a hand to lift you from the floor.
"This isn't your fault, Heeseung," you said, fixing your tussled clothes.
"None of that matters, right now, love," he replied, readjusting the collar of his shirt. "You need to figure out what you want to do about your circumstances and quick. Before it's too late."
➠ three days later, thursday
9:47pm
Sunghoon came back to the cabin later than usual. Unlocking the basement door, he broke through the staleness, hanging his jacket over one of the chairs.
“Where’ve you been?” You inquired tepidly, tucking away the origami deer you were folding into the psychology book that supplied the paper you used.
“It’s Wonyo’s birthday today, so I visited her grave on my way back," he said, walking over to meet you on the bed. "I forgot to ask the other day. How was the doctor?”
“Fine," you simply replied.
Sunghoon shook his head in disappointment before snapping like a rubber band, pulling you from the bed and pushing you against the wall.
“Remember, ____, this isn’t a get out of hell free card just because you’re carrying my child,” he hissed in between your squirms, “I will not hesitate to kill the both of you if you continue to disrespect me.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” You raised your voice at him, struggling in his grip.
“You didn’t think I’d find out about you sliding second base with the cute older doctor? Huh?” He asked rhetorically, gripping at the neck of your nightgown and shaking you like a rag doll.
“Sunghoon, stop it!” You yelled this time, earning yourself a harsh slap across the face. You felt one of your teeth puncture your upper-lip from the force, a metallic taste filling your mouth.
“What’d you tell him? And don’t you dare fucking lie to me!”
Your eyes screwed shut in fear at the intensity of the situation.
Why did things always have to escalate to such extremes with him?
“TELL ME EVERYTHING!” He growled impatiently, grabbing you by the throat with veiny hands.
“The baby’s dead!”
Silence.
His grip around your neck loosened before tightening again, “Bullshit, you fucking whore!”
“I’m serious, Sunghoon,” your voice cracked, eyes burning red from the brief loss of air.
He stopped his ministrations, searching your face for any uncertainty, any clue that you were lying.
“Th-that can’t be true, ____,” he could hardly meet your eyes.
“We lost her, Sunghoon. She’s gone.”
“For the sake of my sanity, tell me you’re lying! Tell me this is all apart of your plan to escape me.”
“I’m not like you, Sunghoon."
“What're you saying,” he asked, legs feeling numb from the pure dread that tainted his blood.
“I’d never lie to you.”
He fell at his knees, pulling you down by the shoulders with him. Cradling you in his arms, he guided your head to his chest, weeping into your embrace. This was your first time seeing Sunghoon cry, his dark eyelashes soaked with tears, pouty lips falling victim to an acute trembling. If it wasn’t for his agressive heartbeat, you would’ve thought he was dying from the sounds he made. Though, to be honest, it’s like apart of him did die.
“This world just won’t let me have anything at all, will it?”
➠ friday
6:05am
“____? ____, wake up!” Sunghoon nudged your sleepy frame excitedly.
“What, what is it?” You answered with a groggy voice.
“I made you breakfast.” He said, handing you a banana.
You ignored the 'breakfast' he held in his hand, “Why?”
“I wanna go somewhere.”
“What’re you talking about? I’m stuck here, remember?”
“Just eat up so you can get dressed.”
All of this excitement was too much for you process so early in the morning. “Sunghoon, just tell me all of this is about.”
He took your hands in his, smiling wide enough for his dimples to show. “I’ll tell you after you eat and get dressed. I promise.”
You sighed. “Okay.”
Why was he acting nice all of a sudden?
7:10am
Sunghoon took you to a familiar looking spot in the woods, about forty-five minutes from his log cabin. By now, you had gotten used to being Sunghoon’s passenger princess, but you didn’t understand his reasons for wanting to take you somewhere. He parked his infamous black car along a brick trail, cutting the engine before exiting the vehicle.
“Follow me,” he smiled, leading you to a lover's picnic area. A large white sheet rested on the ground, grassy rocks holding down each corner. There was a woven basket with a bottle of wine and a few pieces of bread wrapped in knitted cloths. “Come. Sit!” He urged as you met him on the picnic mat. The sounds of morning wind rustling through tree leaves filled the air as you observed your surroundings.
“Okay, Sunghoon. I ate the monkey fuel, got dressed, and now we're here. Why?”
He chuckled at your odd sense of humor, closing the distance between you on the sheet.
“Look. I know this may sound crazy, but… I wanna try again.”
You wished you misheard him, feeing you heart skip a beat at his suggestion. “Excuse me?”
“I’m talking about a baby, ____. I want another chance.“
“Sunghoon-”
He interrupted your sentence by cupping your face in his hands. “I gave you a choice with the marriage, but this time I’m telling you.” His smile faltered into a dour expression, a greedy hand traveling up to the base of your thigh.
“I want this from you, and you’re going to give it to me.”
A nauseous sensation hit your stomach, feeling disgusted by his chronic insanity.
Grabbing a fist full of dirt, you stunned him in the eyes before taking off in the distance. At this point, you were quite seriously running for your life, a natural adrenaline carrying you across the rocky path at an intense speed.
“____!” Sunghoon called out, dusting the dirt from his eyes before chasing after you.
Your feet and heart pounded in unison with the same vigorous effort, ignoring the voice that told you to look back. You thought to hide somewhere and catch your breath, but you knew had to keep running.
You had to survive.
Following the same path that Sunghoon took to get you there, the sight of civilization encouraged you just enough to run for a few more minutes.
That’s when you spotted a red car parked near the public garden you passed on the way. You couldn’t run any longer or else your legs would give out of you, so you hid behind the seemingly vacant vehicle, only to hear the sounds of slow footsteps approaching you.
You shut your eyes, repeating a prayer to yourself over and over again.
“____," a familiar voice called out, "what’re you doing by my car? I-is everything alright?”
“Heeseung!" You yelped, jumping from your initial crouching position and subconsciously clinging to him. "You have to help me!"
“Hey, relax, alright,” he cooed, bracing your lack of balance with his hands.
“It’s Sunghoon,” you forced out in between heavy breaths, chunks of sweaty hair sticking to your forehead. “He wants another baby, and now he’s after me.”
Heeseung wasted no more time speaking before unlocking his car and hiding you on the backseat floor, getting in the driver’s seat himself.
That’s when Sunghoon came running out of the thick of the woods, still calling after you like a madman.
Observing the public garden, he rationalized with himself that you couldn’t have gotten too far beyond this area. From the outside, he appeared to have barley even broken a sweat, but his core burned with a bloodthirsty hellfire.
Narrowing his eyes, Sunghoon spotted Heeseung sitting idly in the red vehicle, parked with the window slightly rolled down.
“Hello, Mr. Park. Taking an evening jog?” Heeseung called casually at the sight of Sunghoon, trying to mask any obvious suspicion.
“More or less. It’s great to see you, Dr. Lee! How’ve you been?” Sunghoon inquired, feigning consideration.
“Good, thankfully. Though, I have work at the clinic today, so I should really get going,” he replied, rolling up the window before Sunghoon hit the tinted glass.
“Wait!” He pleaded, his inner emotions now reflecting on his sullen features.
Heeseung sighed dramatically, trying to convey urgency. “I’m really in a hurry here, Mr. Park, and I can’t risk being late.”
“Just tell me the truth,” Sunghoon tried.
“Did ____ actually lose the baby?”
Heeseung fell quiet for longer than Sunghoon appreciated, but he waited patiently for an answer. The kind-hearted man took his glasses off, folding them in half before setting them in the empty passengers seat. He met Sunghoon’s weakened eyes, feeling compelled to answer him honestly.
“____ didn’t lose the baby, Mr Park. She had an abortion.”
Pop.
The single thread holding back Sunghoon’s rage broke at the confession, lashing out in a kicking tantrum against Heeseung’s car. He wanted so desperately to see the crimson exterior dent from the force, but his depleting strength failed him. You could feel a new force pulsing from the front of the vehicle, rocking your body against the backseat floor. With balled fists, Sunghoon smashed the hood of Heeseung’s car, a string of curse words flying from his mouth like venomous wasps.
Heeseung fired the ignition, gripping his hands on the steering wheel. “Move out of the fucking way!” He warned, honking the horn a few times to scare him, but Sunghoon was hardly phased. He pulled out a gun, pointing it at Heeseung’s head from the behind the windshield, “Get the fuck out of the car. NOW!”
Heeseung was left with no other choice but to obey, abandoning the vehicle and getting on his knees before him.
“Do you have any idea how many people I’ve killed before? I’m sure ____ told you all about it, didn’t she?” Sunghoon asked, pacing back and forth. “The only thing is, I’ve never murdered anyone with a gun before,” he smirked sinisterly, imagining the way Heeseung’s eye balls would burst from their sockets as the bullet penetrated his skull. The frightened doctor kept quiet, afraid that saying the wrong thing or anything at all might shorten his life. Sunghoon fiddled with the tip of the weapon, “You deserve this, anyway. Slutting it up with my fiancé, taking away my child, and daring to look me in the face with that phony fucking smile.”
Screech.
You hopped in the front seat of Heeseung’s car, putting it in reverse before making eye contact with Sunghoon, hitting him straight on.
Crash.
You weren’t sure if Sunghoon’s limp body was underneath or in front of the car, but the sight of Heeseung kicking the deadly weapon a few feet away let you know that everything was gonna be alright.
You ran to hug him out of relief, several emotions taking over you. The once uproarious atmosphere fell quiet, as neither of you could think of anything to say. And frankly, there wasn’t much left to say, anyway.
The ten minutes that passed by felt like hours before the ambulance arrived at the scene, police investigator’s barricading the park with yellow tape. Upon retrieving Sunghoon’s body, the emergency team announced him to be in a state of deep unconsciousness from the collision: a coma. You were granted special visitor privileges because you were his fiancé, but you couldn’t have cared less to stay informed on the status of his well-being. The idea of him being incapable of eating on his own or even speaking for the next weeks or few months granted you an indescribable feeling of light.
Though, this was far from your story’s end.
➠ monday, two months later…
You tried to live a normal life after everything that happened. Giving up on your college dream, you picked up work at a cafe until you got used to normal again. You and Heeseung remained close friends, as the two of you shared a pretty dark part of your lives together. He also helped you overcome the nightmares you suffered from.
It went without saying that Sunghoon passed away. The part of you that still cared about him even brought flowers to his grave, but you never attended his funeral. Honestly, you doubt that anyone even arranged one for him.
Time went on, and you fell in love with your new life, still carrying scars with you that not only reminded you of a painful journey, but one that you survived.
Ding.
That was the sound of the bakery’s entry bell, letting you know that a costumer had just walked in. “Welcome to Café Royale,” you announced cheerfully out of habit, wiping crumbs from the front counter before meeting the fresh face at the register. The man stood tall with silky platinum hair, stunning eyebrows, and a killer jawline.
“Hello! How may I treat you today, sir?”
“Hmm, I’ll have an iced vanilla latte, with a sample of your classic tiramisu, if you don’t mind,” he smiled, flashing his pointy fangs.
“Of course! That’ll be 3.95, please,” you said, taking the five dollar bill he handed you. One of your employees whipped up his order in the back, passing it to you in less than a minute. You placed the plastic cup of coffee and tiramisu sample on a wooden tray, handing it to the charming costumer.
“Enjoy,” you chirped with a smile, ignoring the rush of butterflies that ran through your stomach.
“Thank you,” he replied, taking the platter and walking off. You watched as his footsteps come to a halt, turning on a heel before meeting you at the counter again.
“Do I…” he began, titling his head to take in your profile, “have we met before?”
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❅ Thank you for reading @chlorinecake ‘s “Blood On Ice” Part 2! Make sure to check out more fun reads on my enhypen bookshelf!
❅ You can read part one of this series here!! 🎂
✎ ᴀ/ɴ: in no way, shape, or form does this fanfic intend to romanticize unhealthy relationships or abusive behaviors. i simply write for entertainment and creative purposes. thus, reader discretion is always advised.
taglist: @ashgonedash @nikilvr @ttokyoobv @yourmomscuntis2tighy @fightqueen @addictedtohobi @sltfohoon @lisaaannna @beomgyusonlywife @casualcloddeputyherring @calichuchies-blog @devqrasgirl @rhiannass @fanficfactoryfoxxx @lovelycassy
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tyunphoria · 5 months
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🌪️not in my movie ! — b.chan
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⚠️NSFW CONTENT!⚠️
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ghostface!bang chan x reader
SYNPNOSIS: just a fun game of cat and mouse till you fall in the lion’s den.
INCLUDES: AFAB reader, college!au, pet names, praise, ANGST and SMUTTT. Finding out he’s ghostface gee what a shocker, not proof read, rushed:p chan’s hella manipulative if you squint.
WARNINGS: threatening, mentions of death and murders, blood, slight degradation, fear play, slight dacryphilia, DOM!chan, p in v, oral (giving), fingering, hair pulling, uh tw just to make sure: non con that turns consensual, semi public not rlly?, UNPROTECTED SEX, mentions of vomiting.
[click here to read ghostface!hanjisung x reader.]
w.c: 4.5k
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The leaves were ablaze with autumn hue as y/n walked across the quad of her college campus. She breathed in the crisp autumn air, savouring the hint of bonfire smoke that indicated the fair was being set up. Y/n loved this time of the year. Students milled about between classes, backpacks slung over shoulders, coffee cups warming hands. Some douchebags would even take the liberty to scare their peers and professors while clad in a black robe and a ghostface mask.
Speaking of, your senior Chan just fell victim to one of the pranks and it was hilarious how you got to witness it first hand.
“I hate Halloween…” Chan grumbled as he fell into step beside you.
Your body buzzed with laughter as you handed him the book that slipped from his grasp. “Are you going to that fair tonight?” You ask. Chan makes an expression you couldn’t read, akin to contemplation tinged with mild distaste at the idea. You knew him well enough to read the thoughts flitting across his face — he was tempted by the promise of candy apples and haunted houses but also felt the pull of responsibility to study for his upcoming exam.
“Oh come on, Christopher.” You roll your eyes, “a few hours of fun won’t kill you.”
“Hard pass.” He said. He wasn’t one to back down to these types of things but he claimed that there was something about Halloween which gave him the ‘ick’. “And it’s not just that… Changbin lost a bet so now he’s gonna have to wear a playboy bunny costume to the fair. Think I wanna see that?” You laugh and shake your head, bidding him goodbye as you turn to enter your apartment until Chan stopped you once more by grabbing ahold of your arm.
“Y/n,” he says, his voice stern. “I’m being serious this time. Just… how about you just don’t go? It’s dangerous, especially how late it is at night. Who knows… maybe ghostface himself would show up uninvited.”
His warning sent goosebumps to rise on your skin, making the hair on your nape stand. You mask it with a light scoff. “Really, Chris? When are you gonna drop this ghostface shit. Dude’s been M.I.A for years, I think I’ll be fine.”
You try to pull away but his grip around your wrist tightens before you find yourself being pulled against his chest, hands holding your waist in place as he buries his face against your neck. “Be careful out there, yeah?”
Your hard gaze softens. “I will.”
- - - - -
“Y/n!” Felix beams as he captures you in a tight embrace.
“Jesus Christ, lix.” You gently pull away from the hug to examine his costume. “Elsa?”
“It’s cute, no?” He pouts. “Aya’s over there by the dart booth.” You nod at him gratefully, giving him one last hug before making your way to Aya.
“Hey bitch!” You grin. Aya bounces over to you, planting a kiss on your cheek, staining your skin with the bright red lipstick she wore.
“You wore the costume I bought you, let me see,” she twirls you around. “Hot, hot, okay, but babes that jacket has gotta go.”
“It’s cold!” You protest. “And my tits are practically out.”
Aya sighed in exasperation. “Halloween is the one year where a girl can dress like a total slut and no other girls can say anything about it.” She quotes.
The fair was packed with hordes of costumed attendees, mostly college students from nearby universities. Your eyes widened as she took in the revealing outfits on display - girls in lingerie masquerading as "sexy cat" costumes, shirtless guys with lampshades on their heads.
"Is that chick only wearing a bra and a fucking g-string?" You murmured to Aya, who stood beside you nibbling on candy corn from a paper bag.
Aya followed her gaze to a scantily clad brunette in the distance. "Looks like it," she snorted.
"Thank god there are no kids around here tonight."
You said, finding the lack of children odd. Usually by 8pm, the fair would be swarming with kids getting high off of cotton candy and running around wildly.
"Yeah, the government placed a curfew," Aya explained after popping a few gummy worms into her mouth. "Didn't you hear?"
"A curfew? No, why?" You felt unease curl in your stomach. The last curfew had been years ago, when a killer in a mask murdered a group of teens.
Aya lowered her voice. "It's all over the news. Two days ago someone broke into this girl's house downtown. And then a bunch of people were found dead behind the HYBE office building."
Your brows furrowed. There's no way it could be Ghostface again, right? That killer had been caught years ago.
Chris’s words from this morning suddenly plagued your mind and it bothered you.
A theory was circulating online that there was more than one Ghostface. That a group of obsessed fans had taken up the killer mantle. Those amateur reddit detectives were digging far deeper than the useless ass police.
What if Chan had been right? Unease bloomed in your chest as you glanced around the fair.
Aya takes notes of her expression, attempting to lighten the mood by shoving some cotton candy in your mouth.
“Stop worrying. Let’s go ride the roller coaster and eat candy till we fucking barf!”
- - - - -
“Oh, fuck me, I’m gonna—“ Aya bends over the railing and hurled.
Your cheeks tint in embarrassment, an awkward smile on your lips as you pat her back, trying to ignore the disgusted looks both of you were receiving.
“Bitch you gotta go on without me,” she slumps against a nearby bench, chugging down a can of beer to wash off the vile taste.
“What!” You frown, “but the haunted house, you promised!” You tugged on her arm but she doesn’t budge. “Tsk, fine, I’ll go without you then.”
They built a new attraction that the place has been working on for years but it just now opened up today. It was a big haunted mansion. You wondered why it took so long for them to open it up, but you found out not too long ago that they didn’t hire any scare actors for this attraction, they were all animatronics.
You see your friend by the entrance, collecting tickets and admitting people in.
"Hyunjin!" you exclaimed, a wide smile lighting up your face as you spotted your friend stationed at the entrance, diligently collecting tickets and admitting people in. "I didn’t know your ass worked here."
The blond returned your smile and motioned for three more people to enter before making his way over to you. "Yeah, I actually wanted to take today off, but they were in desperate need of extra staff. I was looking forward to spending the night with my girlfriend too." he replied with a small sigh. "Surprisingly, it's even more crowded than last year. You'd think people would stay home, given the murder incident that happened at HYBE."
You crossed your arms. You really didn’t wanna think about that right now. casting a quick glance down at your heels, momentarily distracted by the discomfort throbbing in your feet. "I shouldn't have worn these," you gesture to your heels.
Something crossed Hyunjin’s face as his expression went blank. “It’s gonna bitch to run in those if that fucker catches you.”
You gape at him. Who the fuck says something like that so casually?
“Sorry,” Hyunjin chuckled. “It’s part of my script.” Oh right… yeah, of course, it being halloween and him working at a horror attraction explains it.
“Oh, it’s your turn, y/n. You going in alone?” He asks. You glance behind you past the long line of teenagers to spot your friend Aya flirting with some guy. You grunt. “Yeah. Just me.”
Hyunjin smiles, taking your ticket and opening up the doors for you. “Enjoy.” He puts it simply, closing the doors behind you.
Hyunjin glances at the rest of the people in the line, the smile falling from his face as he makes his announcement which results in a chorus of groans.
“Okay everyone! Haunted mansion’s closed for tonight.”
- - - - -
As you ventured further into the haunted mansion, the path guided you through a dimly lit corridor. The flickering candles along the walls cast eerie shadows, whispering secrets in the air.
"for something that took years to make, this is pretty boring," you muttered, your disappointment evident in your voice. The first half of the experience was extremely underwhelming. The animatronics were, at least. But as you stepped into the next room, your boredom quickly turned to awe.
Inside, the place was straight out of a Gothic horror story. The Victorian aesthetic engulfed you, transporting as if you were entering dracula’s house or some shit.
As you continued, animatronic figures lurched and screeched, attempting to startle you with their mechanical movements and eerie sounds. But let's be real, they were more comical than terrifying. Their jerky motions and predictable jump scares only elicited laughter instead of fear..
You couldn't help but chuckle, finding amusement in their exaggerated gestures and obvious gimmicks. It became a game to anticipate their predictable moves, mocking their feeble attempts at fright.
The vibe itself was pretty spooky.
The thing that genuinely terrified you was the sudden ear-piercing scream cutting through the air.
Was that from outside? You couldn’t tell. There weren’t any windows. Maybe it just came from one of the speakers.
How long has it been, seven minutes maybe? Well, for one the place was huge and you took up most of the time taking pictures of the place and messing with the bots.
Startled by the crashing sound of the picture frame hitting the floor, you couldn't help but leap in surprise. As your racing heart gradually settled, you cautiously rounded the corner, only to find yourself confronted with a seemingly endless maze of hallways. The disorienting sight added to your growing sense of unease.
Just as you began to collect your thoughts, your hand-held phone abruptly buzzed, causing you to jump once more. The unexpected vibration sent a jolt through your system, making you exclaim, "Jesus—fuck!" A nervous chuckle escaped your lips as you pressed a trembling hand against your chest, trying to calm your pounding heart.
Assuming it was Aya, you braced yourself for a string of impatient requests to hurry up and drive her home. However, to your surprise, the incoming text displayed an unknown number. Curiosity mingled with a tinge of annoyance as you read the message that flashed on your screen: "
“Let’s play a game:)”
Your heart rate quickened in response, you weren't in the mood for pranks, you grumbled and decided to power off your phone, hoping to put an end to the unsettling message.
Your phone buzzed again.
With a mix of frustration and apprehension, you reluctantly picked up your phone and saw another message from the same unknown number: "Don't fucking ignore me, l/n." The words sent a shiver down your spine.
Reluctantly, you type back, your fingers trembling on the keyboard.
"Who are you?" you ask, your anxiety building with each passing moment.
The chat bubbles appear on the screen, filled with an unsettling anticipation. The silence hangs heavy, broken only by the rapid beating of your heart.
"Let's play," the mysterious person replies.
Frustration bubbles up inside you, and you can't help but snap in response. "Look asshole, I don't have time for this," you retort, your patience wearing thin.
A pause follows, and then their next message appears, sending a chill down your spine. "I'm sure you do if your life depends on it," they jeer, their words laced with a sinister edge.
Confusion and fear intertwine within you, clouding your thoughts. Their cryptic statements leave you bewildered, struggling to grasp their true intentions.
Suddenly, a notification pops up, revealing an incoming image. With trembling hands, you open it, only to be met with a horrifying sight—Hyunjin covered in blood, and Aya who looked lifeless leaned up against a pole.
A scream escapes your lips as you drop your phone, shock coursing through your veins. Trembling, you gather the courage to pick up the device again, your mind racing with terror and desperation.
With a renewed sense of horror, you read the next message: "Don't worry, darling. They’re not dead yet. If you can be a good girl for me, I may just spare them."
Each word intensifies your panic, emphasizing the gravity of the situation.
“Don’t hurt them. I’ll do whatever you want.”
The tears streaming down your face are uncontrollable, having to hold the wall for support so your legs didn’t give up on you.
“Let’s play a game of hide and seek.” It writes. “I’m giving you two minutes to hide. If I find you by the time it strikes 12,” then they stopped typing. Seconds felt like hours as you waited. “Let’s just say they don’t get to see another day. As for you, things won’t get pretty so make sure to hide well:)”
It’s a little after 11:40, so you only have twenty minutes till the game is over. You assume that the timer for the duration you had to hide already started so you wasted no time to break into a sprint.
The game seemed simple enough. All you needed to do was hide for fifteen more minutes and you were golden! Besides, it’s a pretty big mansion. You’re confident that it’ll take them hours to find you.
- - - - -
Two more minutes.
There were only two minutes left.
You sink down against the wall, pulling your legs close to your chest. Thoughts of Chris flood your mind. You imagine how he might be doing, picturing the moment when all of this would be over and you could finally return home. The image of him standing before you, his dimpled smile breaking through, teasingly claiming that going to the fair wasn't such a great idea after all, tugs at the corners of your lips and brings a glimmer of warmth to your heart.
"I told you so!" he would tease, his voice filled with both amusement and genuine concern. But deep down, you know that Chan would be consumed with worry for your well-being and safety. You already imagine him scolding you, all while showering you with hugs and gifts to make you feel better. As his junior, his guidance and advice always carried weight, and you never missed an opportunity to listen to his words.
You find yourself sinking deeper into the memories, recalling how Chan had always been so understanding. Whenever the principal's wrath came crashing down, he was there, standing by your side, ready to defend you with unwavering loyalty. And when the storms of heartbreak or failed hook-ups battered your heart, Chris, was there to console you in ways that went beyond words. It was as if you were a treasured princess in his eyes, deserving of nothing but the utmost care and tenderness.
But right now wasn’t exactly the best time to dwell on your fat crush on him.
Like, yes, sure you guys fucked one or twice before but they meant nothing. It was just a way to relieve frustrations with zero strings attached.
His warmth, his voice… his hands that touch you in all the right places.
You’re definitely gonna miss it if you die in this hell hole.
“What's on your pretty little mind that’s got you thinking so deeply, princess?”
You gasp and quickly shoot up to a sprint until your front is pushed up against a wall, feeling someone’s weight pressed against you along with a cold blade poking against your throat.
“I found youuuu,” he taunts.
The man wearing a ghostface mask chuckled as he pressed the knife more into your neck, enough to make a small cut. You wince and groan in pain. The situation is almost laughable, finding it somewhat cliché with the way you’re about to die.
“Fucking… let me go,”
“But princess, I won didn’t I? We had a deal.”
“Fine! You win! Just kill me already then, why drag longer?”
You squirm around to possibly irk him more to speed up the process but as you do, the further your backside gets pushed into his hard on making him groan into your left ear. “But what’s the fun in killing you right away. I’m here to claim my prize.”
Your eyes widen, realizing what his intentions were now.
An idea popped in your head. If you just played along for a few more, you can distract him and make a beeline for the exit.
A laugh slips past your lips. “What’s this? I didn’t expect mister ghostface to be such a perv.” You rub your ass against the tent of his sweats eliciting a strained grunt from the man behind you.
He drops the knife, closing your throat with his fist, bringing your head back. “Don’t fucking tempt me.”
You squeeze your eyes shut at the sensation of his gloved hand cupping your sensitive pussy. Slick begins to stain your lacy red panties as he hummed and dragged his middle finger along your slit. You gasp out in surprise, “don’t do that…”
“Oh? But you were rubbing against me not too long ago like a little slut, what happened to that confidence?” He reaches down further and gently parts the lips of your vulva before gently circling your entrance.
“Tell me to stop and I will.” Your eyes flutter open at his words. You both have already gone this far, why stop now? If you told him to stop, would it just prompt him to kill you? You wanted to atleast see Chris before you died… Well, he asked for permission at least so that was good… fuck it, what about this situation was considered good in the first place? Played with your feelings using fear and dread and now he has you pressed up against the wall with his hand down your underwear.
It was a bit of a turn on.
“Why don’t you kiss my ass and fuck me already.”
You couldn’t see his face but you knew from the tone of his voice that he was grinning, “Good choice.” You were wet and waiting, so he slips a finger inside, thumb circling your clit. You moan, back arching. He adds another finger and pumps his fingers, adjusting the pace while you fall apart in his arms. Your sighs and moans, the way your body responds to him. He hooks his fingers as he circles your clit, rewarded with a moan that sounds suspiciously like calling on the gods.
You tighten around his fingers as you cum, your cheeks flushed in mild embarrassment, with your lipstick smudged from his fingers stuffing your throat full. He strokes you through your orgasm, a beautiful sight to see you undone like this, having to fight the urge to rio off his mask and kiss you.
“Did that feel good, princess?”
“Don’t… call me that.”
“What’s wrong? Do you like being called derogatory names instead?”
Your cheeks flushed. “No! I just… only he can call me princess…”
Ghostface went quiet as he stilled momentarily. He takes his fingers out. “Is that so..” his laughter fills your ears and you can’t help but shy away by hiding your face. Your body was jerked around, forcing you to face him as he squished your cheeks together roughly.
“Open your eyes.”
You shake your head. He moved his hand from your cheeks to your hair making you moan out in surprise.
“Your mask scares me!” You cried out. Staring back at the two blank eyes of the costume while getting fucked isn’t exactly ideal.
“Then I’ll take it off.”
He’s bluffing. Cause there’s no way in hell — this dude’s gotta be bluffing. “You’d do that?”
“For you I would.”
‘Yeah. If you could just take off your mask so I could report you to the police when I’m outta here that’d be great.’
But you’d wish you told him to keep his mask on instead. You would’ve rather preferred that.
“Chris?”
He cradled your face in his hand. “Why do you look so sad, princess? Not what you were expecting?” All you could do was cry. You were confused. You felt betrayed. You wanted nothing more than to shove him away but also melt against the warmth of his touch, the gentle caress of his hands that once brought you comfort. “Shh… shh, don’t cry.” Chan leans in and kisses away your tears.
“Why?” You hiccuped.
“I didn’t want you finding out. I never meant for this to happen.” He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Hell, y/n, I didn’t want you getting roped into this mess but you drive me fucking insane.
I won’t kill you, I just wanted to be honest with you. I’m sorry if you had to find out this way—“
You swallow his next words with a kiss. You didn’t want to listen to his words anymore. You didn’t care if it’s an excuse, you didn’t care if it was a lie, you didn’t care about anything as long as it was him.
“Save it. Whatever lame ass excuse you’re about to come up with, I forgive you.” This catches him off guard. He opens his mouth to say something but you cut him off again, “I’m tired and my pussy’s throbbing so let’s hurry and wrap this up.”
He grinned, urging to your knees. He gave your cheek a rough couple pats as he brought his index and middle finger to your lips, “open.” You part your lips and with little to no warning, he shoves his fingers down your throat. With his other hand, he pulled his sweats and briefs halfway down his toned thighs. He rubbed your spit around the length of his dick, giving it a few strokes before tracing the tip against your lips.
You poke your tongue out just to get a little taste of him making Chris visibly shudder. He groans before pushing the tip past your lips. You wrapped your lips around his cock and his hand immediately found its way on the back of your head. “Yeah… fuck, just like that…” you wrapped both of your hands around his length and worked quick pumps around the head while the other worked its way along the base.
He felt his knees buckle a little when you started sucking his balls. “You look so pretty like this,” he urged himself back into your mouth. “And who do you belong to?”
“You.” You moan. “I’m all yours, Channie.”
That was all the confirmation he needed before he began to brutally fuck your little throat. Your dress had ridden up gave it the liberty to press the tip of his shoe against your cunt making your hips jerk forward. As he ruthlessly fucked your throat and the laces of his converse rubbed deliciously against uour clit the stimulation was beyond amazing. After holding your head firmly against his pelvic area for what seemed like eternity, he finally let you get some air, removing yourself from his dick with a sloppy pop.
“Come here, pretty princess. Wanna cum inside of you…” he was quick to pull you to your feet and pushed you back up against the wall. Your answering smile is a smug thing, as if you’re proud of the effect you had on him. He kisses you then, groaning as he tastes himself on your tongue. Chan gripped your plush thighs and lifted you up with ease. He was gentle and slow, despite the circumstances you were thrown into. He rips your panties in half trying to get them off, drowning out your protests with a slight chuckle. “I’ll buy you new one’s.” He shoves your panties in his pocket before swiping his tip against your wet folds. “Oh,” you breathe out, eyes fluttering shut as he begins to move. The rhythm is slow at first, your fingers pulling him closer, as if you could eliminate all space between the both of you. Your hips meet his every thrust as they move together at a languid pace, as if they have all the time in the world.
He can feel the way your heart races, the rush of blood in your veins. He tries to be as gentle as possible as he sinks his teeth into your neck, drawing a delicious gasp from your lips as he thrusts into you, hoping to balance out the sensation of pain and pleasure. His face hovers over yours, breaths mingling. “Can you hear how wet you are?” He grunts, adding his thumb to the mix by rubbing your almost painfully sensitive clit. You moan loudly, back arching against the wall when you felt chan begin to suck at your tits over the thin material of your dress.
“Been wanting to fuck you for so long… seeing you walk around all night looking dolled up, I felt so jealous.”
He pounds mercilessly into your poor pussy, salty tears beginning to run down your cheeks from the overwhelming pleasure. “You're so gorgeous… wanna make you all mine — fuck,” he moans. “You’re so naughty… I told you not to go, didn’t I?”
“Channniiieee…. I’m gonna,” you whimper, whining against his lips. “I’m cumming… oh fuck, I’m cumming…”
“so cute…” he cooed. “You disobeyed me, and look at where we’re at now.”
You tangle your fingers in his hair as you orgasm followed by a shudder.
What sounded like footsteps that were approaching closer and closer catches you off guard and it seemed to have a similar effect on him as well.
Sticking to your plan from earlier, you shove him off of you while he’s distracted trying to figure out who could be approaching and make a beeline for the exit. His back hits a table, eyes widening.
“Love you Channie!” You grinned and before he could grab you, you shut the two heavy metal doors in front of him.
He grumbled, pulling his pants back on and opening the door only to be met with a ghostface mask staring right back at him.
“Hey,” Jisung says as he rips the mask off him.
“The van’s parked outside, the other’s have been waiting for twenty fucking minutes.” He says but he only received a glare from his leader. “You look pissed. What the hell happened this time?”
“Change of plans,” Chan says as he picks up his knife and mask from the floor. “You guys go on ahead without me.”
“What?” Jisung scoffed. “You can’t just do that at the last minute. Look, we’ve been planning this shit for years, you can’t just back down ‘cause you can’t control your dick. The police are already on their way, and—!” Chan throws his knife, missing Han by a hair as it pierces through the portrait behind him. Han felt his breathing stop for a quick second.
“You had your fair share of fucking with your slut, so pipe down.”
Jisung glowered, hand tightening around the handle of his gun. “Don’t fucking call her that.” He says, but he knew better than to get into an argument with his boss.
“I’ll meet you guys tomorrow.” Chan slips his mask back on.
“I’m gonna go claim back what’s mine.”
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a.n: ruh roh, alpha wolf chan is mad cs he didnt get to orgasm😕😕
and yall i get it, you want more skz ghostface content, im getting there okay😭
also pls lmk if you want me to make anime fics too, all ive been posting about are skz dhisbsje i can write genshin too. P.s all ghostface aus r connected, hyunjin is next methinks
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kosije · 2 months
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a/n ★ ׂ forgot my log in info (oops!) happy to be back, ive missed u all :) part 2? never leave a crowded place if you suspect someone is watching you. don’t walk alone in the night. stay safe♡
c/w ★ ׂ ghostface!toji x fem!reader. noncon. stalking. toji follows reader home. crying. toji cuts readers clothes. mdni!
— main masterlist | jjk masterlist
there’s an eeriness in the fog.
static of a chill vibrates through your spine, as you walk as fast as you can, not caring about how your short skirt rides up your body. regret hazes you and you struggle to walk straight after drinking so much. maybe you should have stayed there? the party wasn’t bad in itself. decent music, decent costumes, decent snacks. but you just couldn’t get away from him—whoever he is. first it was when you had first gotten there. readjusting your clothes, you brush through your friends’ door to familiar faces. it doesn’t take you long to gravitate to the drink bar with a girl dressed as some kind of clown.
“I-C-P,” she says, pouring you your third drink. “I’m Violent J, my girlfriend’s Shaggy… i’ll just show you later.”
you think you say something like, “cool,” but you can’t pay attention to anything after you spot him. he’s huge. long black robe that’s tattered around the edges, dirtied ghostface mask that completely covers his face, serrated knife with dried blood that you note looks more realistic than what you’re comfortable with, and an aura that makes you uneasy. he’s standing in front of you, but it’s almost like he’s standing over you by the shear build of him. you watch the girl, what’s her name again? whatever it is, she begins to walk away, grumbling about how the costume will be more recognizable once you see her girlfriend. the whole time you keep glancing back to the man in the ghostface costume, and despite his face being covered, it’s obvious that he’s staring at you. a icy gust fans over you, still feeling his gaze hot on you as you follow the girl.
that first encounter left you unsettled, but then it multiplies and you find him at every corner you turn. in front of the door to the bathrooms. standing in the shadows of the dance floor as you grind on some park random in a spiderman costume. on the patio of the backyard. and then the doorframe of your friend’s house as you leave. you can’t shake the scorching burn of paranoia as you walk down the dark and foggy street that makes you weary of every sound and twitch that echoes your feet quickly padding against the damp pavement. your vision feels delayed as houses seemingly speed by you, and you’re struggling to walk in a straight line, repeatedly veering off the sidewalk and onto someone’s grass. goosebumps riddle your bare legs as you break out more into a run, finally seeing your apartment complex come into view.
it’s all just wind in your ears, you tell yourself. no one is following you, you aren’t in danger. but still you can’t will yourself to keep your eyes forwards and glance behind you just to make sure you have nothing to worry about. and maybe it’s the alcohol—god you hope it’s the alcohol. because just as you’re about to enter the complex, in the corner of your eye, lingering in the shadows, you think you see that same figure, staring dead at you.
your room is on the third floor. adrenaline is pumping through your veins as you mash into the “three” elevator button
you’re in your room at last. shake hands secure you’re locks, and only after everything do you slump your head against your door in exaughstion.
“too slow.”
snapping your head up, you notice the same shadow, once again standing over you, and your heart drops. you make one last effort to escape, rapidly unlocking your door, but when you crack it open his hand slams against it so fast and strong, that your hand isn’t even around the handle anymore. there’s a moment that you think of screaming. a moment that is cut short by the sensation of cold metal meeting your throat. his knife is real—you get the message fast. tears stream down your face as your legs give out, and you’re falling to the floor. suddenly, his arm leaves the door and wraps you tightly, and you lose all hope. because by the strenght of his thick arms, and how easily just one can wrap all around you, you know there is no overpowering him.
“you put up a good fight.” the muffled voice is deep and taunting on the shell of your ear.
“a-are you gonna… kill me?”
he only laughs at that. it’s loud, obnoxious, and leaves you more scared that before.
he’s completely unhinged.
he doesn’t give you the closure of an explicit answer. you’re lifted off the ground, anchored between his arm and chest—both of which are firm and un— and throws you on your couch. you regret not spending that extra 250$ on the more plush one, cause the impact sends your back straight into the wooden support pillar, barely cushioned by your pillows. you wince.
“if that hurt you, i’m worried ill destroy you, sweetheart.”
and you’re convinced you’ll die here, on your couch, by some masked man on the night before halloween day. he approaches you slowly, and instinctively you kick roughly at his knee. he curses something crude, and for a split moment you’re running to your door, but a second later there’s and hand in your hair and you’re ripped back to him. you thrash, and cry, and kick, but his grip doesn’t falter. and there it is, that laugh again. he tips your head back, and his other arm traps you to him, and in your lower back you feel it.
the bastard is fucking hard.
“you’re gonna be more fun than i thought. pretty thing like you deserves to learn not to walk alone at night in such a,” he’s speaking into your neck, knife dipping between your skirt, cutting it until the fabric falls to the ground, completely ruined. “short thing.”
you’re entire body is shaking, and you have to pant to breathe because your nose is so full of snot. mascara is running down your face but he just moves his knife through every thread on you, until you’re completely bare below him.
“pretty little thing, ain’t ya?” he says to no one in particular.
you’re still wailing, and something about it seems to push him over the edge.
first it’s a hard slap to your cheek, then a firm hold.
a yell of “oh, shut the fuck up, it’s getting real old.”
he doesn’t let go until you compose yourself. chest still falling fast and rising faster, but your weeping is diminished to sobs and hiccups.
“why?”
“why what, doll?”
“why are you doing this?”
you didn’t say anything funny, and yet here he is laughing. again.
“what a fickle question. it’s quite simple, doll. it’s cause you’re pretty.”
you can feel your brows nearly touch. the blood rushes from your face for what feels like the umpteenth and your sobs get a bit louder. “then, why hurt me?”
“cause you look better with a lil blood on ya,”
88 notes · View notes
gemini-sensei · 8 months
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Ghostface!Miguel Diaz x Ghostface!Reader Headcanons
Chubby!Fem!Reader ○ Ghostface AU
CW: gore, blood, murder, beyond canon typical violence, some NSFW, ngl this one is a tad bit messed up so read at your own risk (unedited).
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👻Miguel had no idea his girlfriend was a killer until she showed up on his doorstep one night in need of help. She said she didn't know where else to go and that she was seeing double, her last victim putting up a pretty good fight before she got the upper hand - also meaning she had to do some cleaning up before she could leave the scene. He asked no questions and brought her in, happy his family wasn't home that night to see her that way.
👻It was only after cleaning her up and putting a bag of frozen vegetables on her swelling eye that he asked her what happened.
"That was way too much blood for a little fight..." he said, looking at her.
👻Only after making him swear not to tell anyone does she admited that she was the one that's been killing people. That was only her second victim, so he caught on pretty early.
👻However, instead of being scared of her or thinking about turning her in, all he could think was, "She shouldn't be doing this on her own. Look at how she got hurt."
👻He's so in love with Reader that he didn't see what was wrong with the situation. I mean, he knew it was wrong to kill people, obviously, but she had to have a reason to do it, right?
👻She fell asleep in his bed and he watched over her the whole night to make sure she wasn't concussed. He brought her water and little snacks throughout the night.
👻In the morning, he went to make her breakfast and found his mom and Yaya watching the news; apparently a killer had struck again late last night, but they didn't kill just anyone. They killed Terry Fucking Silver and burned his house to the ground before they left, leaving little to no evidence behind. And according to law enforcement, that case and the last stabbing murder have no correlation as far as they can tell.
👻Miguel stares at the screen, knowing he has the killer in his room as they sit there in shock and awe.
👻His mom hugs him, so worried for his safety. But all he's worried about is Reader.
👻That's how he found himself being the one doing the killing 🔪 because he doesn't want Reader getting hurt again.
👻So she sits back and plans out the attack, does her research and stakes out the house where it'll happen. She makes the calls while Miguel sits outside in the shadows, waiting for her text to tell him it's go time.
👻If he comes back bloody, she cleans him up.
👻Every time he comes back from a kill, he tells her everything down to the fine details. While they fuck. She rides him and tells him how great a job he did, which just gets him going. Her praise means everything to him, so he'll share every bloody detail with her while balls deep in her fat pussy. She squeezes his cock with every word and he gets to watch her eyes roll up.
👻He once came back all bloody and she dragged him into the shower after tossing his clothes in the wash. He fucked her against the tile wall while the blood just ran down the drain and he told her the gory details of it all, rearranging her guts while he tells her about how he spilled someone else's.
👻Breathy I Love You's after they fuck and sweet kisses, as if he didn't just get her off to the whole thought of him murdering someone for her. Not even a thought, the truth of it all.
👻He has no conscious, just devotion to his love.
👻They give off this sweet couple vibe. She sits in his lap when out and about with their friend and he holds her close. Of anyone brings up the Ghostface killer, he tightens his grip around her and every just thinks he's being protective of her because it Freaks everyone out.
👻However, he's actually worried they might figure it out and she has to hug him to assure him that it's okay. She's the mastermind and has every figured out, and he knows that. He trusts her.
👻she kisses his cheek and pets his fluffy hair, which eases his mind and he just lays his head on her chest. He listens to her heartbeat and it gets him riled up to the next kill that he knows she has planned. It's thrilling, it's exciting, and he can't wait to make her proud.
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175 notes · View notes
onsunnyside · 1 year
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³¹.⍭ 𝐊𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐚 (𝟏/𝟐)
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𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 | Major Crossover—ghostface!boyfriends!: Ari Levinson, Steve Rogers, Curtis Everett, Ransom Drysdale x cheater!reader
𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | SOFT DARK themes and elements, cheating, revenge, obsessive/possessive behaviour, jealousy, competition, size difference: all 6’7-6’9, manhandling, manipulation, coercion. SMUT - minors DNI, NON-CON/DUB-CON: they’re all wearing the same mask & reader doesn’t know who it is, oral (m & f), balls sucking, fingering (f), dirty talk, chase kink, daddy kink, p*ssyjob, size kink, spit kink, choking, p*ssy spanking, exhibitionism (public sex), degradation, dumbification, ruined kink, overstimulation, squirting, creampie.
𝗪/𝗖 | 8.23K
𝗔/𝗡 | happy Halloween !! hope you all had a spooky day, here is my last fic for spicy October, a finale with all our fave daddies. enjoy !! all mistakes are my own.
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 & 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲: @𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲
𝐊𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐚 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | ˗ˏˋ𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟐 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭ˎˊ˗ ⋰˚ 𝐂.𝐄. & 𝐂𝐨. 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
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“That was the money from my grandfather's will.” 
Curtis snorts, “as if you don’t have the cash to spare.” 
Ransom’s glare hardens, “It’s from my dead grandfather—I mean, my murdered grandfather. Am I not allowed to be upset that she stole money from my grandfather who was murdered in cold blood?”
“It isn’t stealing if you voluntarily spent it on her.” The other burnet countered, “I assume money is the only way you know how to show affection. Mommy and daddy didn’t know how to deal with you so they filled that emotional void with money, and you continue it in all your relationships. It’s a never-ending cycle.”
“At least I know my parents, orphan.”
Ari tunes them out, staring out the wide window into the night. The howling winds sway the forest surrounding the Thrombey mansion and the shadows bleed through the glass, covering him from head to toe in the same shade as his profound emptiness.
Three years. Three fucking years of his life gone to waste. 
Every time he blinks, he sees you from senior year. The beautiful, popular, high-achieving student who never looked his way, although he tried hundreds of times to get your attention. From playing his heart out on the football field when you were in the crowd, attempting—and failing—to be your partner for projects in classes you shared, and volunteering to help for events that you were organizing, one of those being your senior prom. The theme was an extravagant masquerade ball, strange for a year of rambunctious teenagers, but perfect for the elite private school. 
The venue was decorated in hues of vermillion, gold and grey, with speckles of white from the feathers and clear-beaded arrangements in the middle of each table. Sheer fabric and ribbon hung from the ceiling, draped low to mimic the magical atmosphere. Fairy lights glimmered alongside sparkling chandeliers, illuminating the ballroom in a warm yellow glow. Red roses, gold plates and vintage-styled candelabras sat atop black tablecloths and complemented the metallic chairs. 
During the few weeks of setting up the venue, his friends consistently poked fun because he was whipped for a girl he’s never spoken to. 
He broke that shameful streak the day before prom, and until today, that was the stupidest he’s ever felt. 
“Oh, I don’t have a date.” You answered after he asked what colours you and your date were going to wear. 
Ari’s face twisted in disbelief and utter confusion. The revelation scattered every organized thought, making him a total fool. “Why the fuck not?”
He’ll never forget the stunned expression on your face. 
“I mean—you’re really fucking pretty.” The words flew out like a swarm of wild bees, dancing in front of his horrified eyes, taunting him. 
You burst out laughing, throwing your head back and nearly toppling over one of the tables. “Well thanks, I’ve been asked a couple of times but none of them are my type. They’re all meatheads.” You finally caught your breath, soft giggles tumbling from your glossed lips. “Like the football team, ugh, just a bunch below-average, tit-brained idiots.”
Ari frowned deeply, “I’m on the football team.” He was positive you knew that, hell, you’ve organized fundraisers for the sports department. 
You grinned, “I know. But you’re actually cute when you’re dumb, way above average.” You patted his broad shoulder and walked away, the short uniform skirt swaying with each step. 
Ari remembers standing there like a moron before finally bolting after you. He caught up to you in the parking lot and asked you right then and there, almost dropping to his knees to beg when you took a second too long to answer. But you said yes, smiling so sweetly he could’ve died. 
“—the same day. The same fucking day! That has to be a record!” Curtis snarls, pointing a finger at Ransom, “and you were on a date too, so you can’t say shit about cheating, jackass.”
The playboy moves his hand with two fingers, nonchalantly shrugging. “I found someone I wanted to spend the night with, is that a crime?”
Curtis gritted his teeth, his shoulders rigid under his leather jacket, “I won her a ginormous bear and fingered her in the photo booth, and she was already fucking two other guys!”
“Dating. She was dating two other guys.” 
“Same shit!”
All this time, the second boyfriend has remained silent. Steve stares at his lock screen, a blurry photograph of the two of you the morning after a date at the pier. You’re half asleep but he wanted to commemorate the most perfect night of his life. 
He was convinced that he was the lead in a romantic film, and it all bloomed from his awful first impression. 
“Will you ever actually talk to me? Or will you just continue to stare at me from across the shop?” You smiled down at him, your skin glowing in the morning sun. “Here, you look like a cupcake kind of guy.”
A red velvet cupcake is placed in front of him, right next to his hand which had his pencil in a death grip. He quickly releases his hold and stares blankly at you, stunned and bewitched because he’s never seen you this close. Heavenly is the way he’d describe your features, each curve and dip of your face is burned into his brain from his endless sketches but at this moment, it feels like he’s seeing you for the first time. 
Since that day, he believed in love at first sight. Now? It’s up for debate. 
“Sit. I mean, please sit. Only if you want obviously.” He covers his red cheeks, not even bothering to shut his sketchbook. You already saw the dozens of drawings of you from various angles, all sprawled across the pages like they belonged there. “You know what? Never mind, I’ll go. I’m  sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable.” 
He was going to leave, pack up his things haphazardly and dash out of the coffee shop before embarrassment ate him alive, but you called him back. 
“I’ll stay, but only if you show me what else is in there.”
And he did, shyly at first but as the minutes dragged into hours, he got more confident and gave you detailed explanations of each piece. He rambled on and on about a sketch that took up two pages, it was an elderly couple watching the sunset on the beach, the waves crashing in the background as their heavily detailed silhouettes were in the foreground. He spoke as if he knew them when he was only a mere bystander to their love story. 
“I saw them almost every day that summer. On that same bench and holding hands.” He sipped his cold coffee, never breaking eye contact with you, “They’ve probably watched tons of sunsets in their lifetime, but it’s cute, y’know? That they still do… soft things like that.”
Steve was a nice guy. He was recklessly kind, tutored people in his class, and always helped his coach with pregame preparations. He donates all his old clothes and always asks owners before petting their dogs. 
If he was so good, why did bad things happen to him? Was it his fault? 
He kept pushing you to meet his family. In his defence, you’ve been dating for two years and he talks about you nonstop, his parents have been begging to meet the girl who has their son’s heart, and praised him for finding the one so early on. 
It’s a shame that the one was never his to begin with. 
The worst part of all of this wasn’t the cheating—well, it was, but the other worse part was your blatant dismissal for taking the next step in your relationship. You’ve met their families, you were very close with Ari’s and met Curtis’ and Ransom’s who you’ve only been dating for less than a year. 
What was so different about his? 
“Cheap fucking slut.” Ransom mutters. “She’s so greedy that she needs four cocks.” 
“Hey, watch your mouth.” Steve frowns, “She’s still my girlfriend.” 
Curtis bites his tongue and swallows whatever snide remark was on the verge of spilling out. As much as it hurt, he knew where they were both coming from. He hated your guts, yet the masochist part of himself admired your bulletproof nerve and capability, and the other much softer part was still madly in love with you. 
He prided himself in being observant, reading people like open books and anticipating their words and actions so that he was always prepared—that’s why he knows how to push Ransom’s buttons. It didn’t take a genius to notice how stuck up and spoiled the brat was. He couldn’t believe how you put up with him. 
How you got away with this for so long was a wonder. Whether it was by sheer luck or cautious scheming, you played them all like puppets, pulling their strings however you pleased for the grand production. The success came with applause and satisfaction, it boosted your ego and made them into fools. 
Don’t even get him started on your fucking friends who probably worshipped you for your stellar performance, praising you for dancing on their hearts with false innocence. Curtis has met them and only now he can recall the mischievous twinkle in their eyes, he would bet that they downgraded him to a pathetic nickname like boyfriend number three. 
He would’ve noticed something sooner if you didn’t have him pussy drunk every time he saw you. He’ll admit it—he’s whipped. 
You may be a good-for-nothing cheater, but you were his fucking pornstar. 
He supposes that’s the thing about pornstars, they surely got around. 
Curtis wouldn’t openly admit it to the rest of the guys—his girlfriend’s other boyfriends—but if you called him right now and asked him to come over, he’d be on his motorcycle in the blink of an eye. You were a twisted, disgustingly hot mastermind who could spit in his face and choke him, and yet, he’d still dick you down. He was into that freaky shit anyway. 
Of course, as much as he pretended, he wasn’t all tough. Under that steel demeanour, he’s aching, battered with betrayal and fears of inadequacy. 
Grey clouds loomed over that island of self-doubt, a place all four of them have since sailed to and made home, sharing their confusion, anger and grief. 
All of this mess started from simple curiosity. Ari recognized a little lacy thing in one of his fraternity brothers’ rooms, and lo and behold, it was your panties, the same ones he bought you a few months prior. 
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“Oh, oops. My girl left those in my pocket.” Curtis chuckles and waltzes in, dropping his skateboard by the closet. He’s wearing that signature black beanie and carrying that smell of cigarettes and mint gum. “She’s so cheeky, huh?”
Ari doesn’t acknowledge him at first. His fingers feel around the fabric before hooking in a hole by the band, and then his heart stops. 
The other brunet watches strangely, “Uh, can I have those back?”
Perhaps any other person in a fit of confused rage would’ve wrapped their hands around Curtis’ throat, but Ari didn’t. He’s caught off guard when Ransom walks by and pops his head in, his blue eyes locking on the purple lace with blue bows. 
“Where did you get those?”
Those five words erupted an argument that shook the walls. Curses were spat and accusations were pointed every which way until the world decided that three out of four wasn’t enough.  
Steve was on his way home when he heard the shouts from a few houses down. 
He burst into the bedroom with wide eyes and was welcomed by his friends arguing and tearing crumbled lace from each other’s hands. Then, the universe works its magic again and the sheer fabric lands on the floor a few feet away from him. 
His gaze drops and he cocks his head to the side, but that puzzlement swiftly fuses into disbelief that shakes him to the core. The air falls to an ear-splitting silence as realization dawns, freezing them all where they stand. 
The first to speak is Ransom, he lets out a boisterous laugh. “What a little cock hungry bitch. Well played, I’ll say, well played.” 
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After everyone calmed down and Steve stopped crying and dry heaving, they made the journey to Ransom’s mansion for the sake of privacy, who knows what their other fraternity brothers would think? They’d pity them, but no one would understand their circumstances. No, that gracious gift was split between the four of them. 
“So, who gets to have her?” All eyes fall on Steve, the 6’8 figure hunched in a small chair and clutching a pillow to his chest. 
Me—is spoken in all their heads. Fury, greed and vengeance don’t mix well with love. 
“I had her before you.” Curtis says to Ransom and reclines on the leather couch, stretching lazily, “Did I forget to mention she sucked my dick that night? Oh… and you kissed her too, huh?” He smirks, “I don’t know about you but I’d rather not know my parents than know what a stranger’s dick tastes like.”
Ransom clenches his jaw, “You poor cunt—”
“Don’t worry, I’m sure the girl you ditched that day is still into you. Call her up and see how that goes, trust fund baby.” 
“If we’re going with whoever had her first…” Steve trails off, swallowing the lump in his throat. He cried when he found out about your unfaithfulness, and he cried on the way to the mansion and already excused himself a few times to cry in the bathroom, yet he was seconds away from crying again. “Then i-it’s you.” 
Six blue eyes pool with hesitance, then tentatively land on the tallest frat boy. 
Ari’s wounds run the deepest, piercing through his skin that you’ve marked with your lips and hands. You’ve branded him, traced your name on his chest as you two talked mindlessly about the future, where you see yourself after graduating from that pretentious university halfway across the world. 
It wasn’t the distance. If it was, why did you date three other guys from the same city as him?
“Has she contacted any of you? While you two were arguing, she tried calling me.” He stares down at the missed call. The candid contact photo glares back, it was from your last birthday just before you blew out your candles. A surprise party he planned for you. 
Everyone checks their phones. 
“She just cancelled our date.” Ransom grits his teeth, glaring at the screen with your adorable yet revolting apology. 
I promise I’ll make it up to you, daddy! I have a huge project coming up but I’ll miss you! Please don’t forget about me :(
“Ours too. Apparently, she has a project.” Curtis itches to call you right now and give you a piece of his mind but he’d rather see your face when your castle of lies crumbles to the ground. 
You were always so pretty when you were helpless and ruined. 
Steve’s phone is the last to chime. He gulps nervously and flips it over with a furrow between his brows. “She wants me to visit her next week.” 
“Fucking bitch.” Ransom growls, throwing his phone across the room, it dents the wall with a loud thump. Everyone would be taken aback if he hadn’t broken four glasses already. 
“I—uh, what do I say? Do I make up an excuse that I can’t go?”
Ari uncrosses his arms, blinking slowly. He was calm and it was terrifying considering how furious he should be. He knew you first, he fell for you first, he had you first, yet he was as peaceful as a boat on a gentle stream. “You don’t want to see her?”
Steve slumps over in a big hunk of muscle trapped in a too-small t-shirt. For someone usually happy and energetic, it was comical to see the new star player of the football team so defeated. Millions of bodychecks and tackles couldn’t amount to the gut-wrenching aches and emptiness, and Ari was the only one who understood that too. 
He still wasn’t over the fact that he’s been playing on the same team as the guy who was fucking his girlfriend—their girlfriend?
“Of course I do. I love her.” 
Steve was soft, to say the least, everyone knew that when they saw him walk into the fraternity house with a wide smile and a tray of freshly baked cookies, “I wanted to make a good impression and my ma says food is the best way to do it,” he said in a Brooklyn accent, “can’t have my frat brothers hating me, that’d be a shitshow.” 
Hate wouldn’t be the word they’d use, but they weren’t completely comfortable with each other like before. 
What are the chances that all your boyfriends enroll in the same college and join the same fraternity at the same time, even when all of them were attending different schools the previous year?
Fate was probably fed up with your deceitfulness. 
“You’ll invite her here and we’ll all have her.” Ari decides, his dark eyebrows knitted tightly, “we’ll share. That means, the two of you get along or get out—”
“—this is my house.”
“I didn’t fucking ask.” He snaps, “If this is going to work, we’ll have to get along, or at least pretend to. And at the end of the night, no one loses, no one wins, but she gets what she deserves.” 
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For the hundredth time, Steve looks down at your hand in his. Your freshly manicured hand contrasts with his black gloves, and the glitter nail polish matches the dainty diamond on your ring finger, the one he bought you for your one year anniversary. You got him a chain necklace that he’s never taken off and with his bubbling nerves, it feels like the silver is burning through his skin.
“You okay, baby?”
As always and regardless of the conditions, he swoons at your lovely voice. Oh, he was neck-deep in his desire, trapped and made into a damn clown, yet his heart still sang for you. 
“Yeah, doll. Are you?”
You grin and kiss his cheek with your glossed lips. “I’m perfect, daddy.” You’re happy that Steve begged you to come home instead of flying him to you. 
This was your first time visiting his new college and elite university parties were nothing like the ones in the city. They lacked closeness and freedom since everyone was concerned about wrong angles or nasty rumours. Here, people just wanted to dress up, have fun, and celebrate Halloween on rented-out property in an old farmhouse. 
“I’ll get you another drink.” Steve pats your hip and you scoot off his lap, occupying the free spot on the couch. He asks around for other refills and turns to you, tilting your chin up with his finger, “You want something to eat too?”
“No thanks, do you want me to come?”
Steve snorts, brushing you off with a claim of chivalry. You watch him walk away and ignore that little voice of guilt, the hushed dejected calls of three other names. They didn’t matter right now, you were with Steve and thinking about them any longer put all of your relationships at risk. 
You love them all, but in different ways. There were different things to love about each of them, distinct qualities to admire, and little habits to remember. You were diligent with everything, that’s why you’ve gotten away with it for so long. 
You grew up quite spoiled, always getting whatever you want from your parents who never used the word no. It was all on a shiny silver platter, from prized jewelry to new wardrobes, fancy cars and luxurious vacations. That part of you never grew up, you still wanted it all and got it—just like how you wanted four men and got them. They weren’t disposable to you, no, they were the loves of your life. You valued them, but obviously not enough to respect their trust and the sanctity of your relationship. 
When Steve returns, you don’t waste any time. Your body presses against his and your lips trail down his neck, gently pushing the hood off his blond head, “I’ve missed you, daddy. Haven’t you missed me too?”
Steve has since gotten over his heartbreak and nerves. It took a bit of liquid courage and some direction from Ari, but he was ready. No longer a sad, pouting puppy but a vengeful beast, smelling out your lies like a fresh kill. It’s that deep-seated hunger which spurs him on, prompting him to pull you to the dance floor for a few songs. He yearns to feel your body against his, your irresistible warmth, and that magnetic force that pulled him to you two years ago. 
You turn around in his hold, slowly grinding against his thigh. “I did what you asked…” You trail off, bringing his hand under your tutu. It isn’t out of character for you to be so forward, but it catches you off guard when he gropes your flesh. His fingers trace over the plug through your nylon tights and lace leotard. “Did I do good, daddy?”
“So good, baby.” His voice drops low, rumbling in his chest, his hard bulge rubs against your hip. “You always do so good for me.” 
You were his best girl, his pretty doll who couldn’t do any wrong. He’d do anything you asked, bend over backwards to fulfill your any wish but that would change tonight. It was time for you to be stretched thin for his demands and satisfy his needs. 
“I want to feel your mouth on me.” 
Under any other circumstances, Steve would have felt embarrassed for saying that aloud, but all those worries fly out the window when your eyes twinkle and you nod obediently, truly the whore that Curtis said you were—well, he actually called you a fuckhole.
Steve wrongfully thought your body was his for the past two years, but at this moment, he chose to believe you were wholly his. 
“You okay, sweet girl?”
You nod eagerly with your mouth locked around one of his balls, your tongue traces the seam before suckling. You’re so messy and struggle to take his full sack, slobbering filthily as saliva dribbles onto your pristine costume. 
His gaze locks on your face, your cheeks are wet and hot with tears, and his spit hangs out the corner of your swollen lips. Your tongue swipes out for it before licking up his leaky cock, following the protruding veins to the fat tip. 
“You like when I stroke your cock, daddy?” 
“Yeah, baby. Go deeper, you’ve done it before.” His neck tenses when you gag on his cock, fisting what couldn’t fit in your mouth. “Fuck, that’s it.” 
The music vibrates throughout the house, the loud conversations flowing in from under the bathroom door, but you didn’t care, not even with your sore knees pressing into the cold tiles, or your feather headpiece jostling with every bob. 
His heavy weight on your tongue and his taste filling your mouth sends tingles through your body, but you force your hand away from your throbbing cunt. This was for Steve, your sweet, loving and fucking hot boyfriend Steve.  
“So pretty down there, doing so good for me.” Steve pants heavily, guiding you to kiss up and down his pulsating length. The mushroom head is enveloped between your lips and you lick his slit. You’re usually a tease, but Steve has different things in mind. 
He secures a hand behind your head and pushes down until his tip hits the back of your throat. You try to control your breathing, but it’s futile with his massive length violating your airways, hammering deep and rough. You choke around his girth, saliva spills down your chin, and tears pool in your eyes but you’re determined to bring him to that precipice. You take whatever he gives—from more spit on your face to brutal thrusts. 
He forces you down further and rocks his hips, fucking your mouth like he hated you. “Look up at me, wanna see my pretty girl sucking my cock.” 
You preen under his words, blinking up at him as tears stream down your face. Wet, garbled noises fill the small bathroom as you cling to his hips over his tattered robe, piercing the thin fabric with your nails. 
“That’s it, good fuckin’ girl. Take daddy’s cock,” like the dumb whore you are. A stupid slut who isn’t content with only one man but needs several to suck dry—you’ve stolen it all, their time, money, and love. You didn’t deserve his cum right now, but Steve was too fucking soft. 
He growls your name, pumping your mouth full of his hot seed. There’s so much that some seeps through the corners of your lips, following in the lines of your spit and tears, deliciously ruining your makeup. He forces you to stay there, filled to the brim and choking on his cum. After what felt like hours, he lets you pull off. You immediately swallow his seed and lick the sensitive tip for any rogue droplets, peppering messy kisses up the flushed flesh. 
He helps you stand and rubs your cheek, smearing the spit, cum and tears into your skin. You moan and dip down, suckling his fingers and slowly lifting your dress. In the mirror, he sees your ass through the paper-thin nylon and sheer white leotard, and that plug snugly in your puckered hole. 
The reflection only emphasizes the differences, you clad in a blinding, pure white against his black robe, glittering and feathery while he was dark and looming. The similarities are only visible to him, two people playing pretend. He thinks you should win an award for your performance. 
You’re smaller than him, and so much weaker. He could pick you up and fuck you senseless against the wall, make your whines pour out for everyone to hear. 
“Wanna see it, daddy? I did it for you.”
He does, but his phone vibrates on the counter. 
Ransom: Time’s up. We don’t have all night.
It physically hurts to push you away. “In a bit, sweet girl. Let’s go enjoy the party, okay?”
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The night goes on, party songs blare through the old farmhouse, rattling the old walls and windows. It’s safe to say you were momentarily satisfied after blowing Steve, the night was still young and you had all weekend to jump his bones before you left the city. 
You found a group of people to chat with, easily joining their conversations. They were interested in your private school life, so you entertained them with stories of your strict years in ironed uniforms from your early childhood to university career but unlike them, you had zero knowledge about Greek life. 
Apparently, there were a few fraternities on campus, “your boyfriend is in one, didn’t he tell you?”
“Uh, no. He didn’t.” 
You almost forgot which boyfriend you were here with until one of them asked where Steve went, and Halloween night must bring magic because just as they asked, your date popped up from the backdoor. He headed straight for you and tugged you away by your arm, not bothering to greet your new friends. 
You giggle, already tipsy from your first few drinks. “Where’d you run off to?”
He doesn’t respond and drags you outside, weaving through the bodies crowding the back porch illuminated by fairy lights. The crisp air fills your lungs, tainted with smoke, but it’s refreshing after being in a stuffy house all night. 
You apologize to the few people you bump into, blindly stumbling after your boyfriend. He’s practically body-checking people out of the way and hauling you like dead weight. He’s so rough that your bag slips from your wrist. “Steve, my purse!” 
Ransom huffs and spins around to grab your bag before continuing his trek to the woods, slowing down for your sake. This time, you follow easily, slightly inebriated and giddy, not questioning a thing—even though Steve was acting very different tonight, you were excited about anything else he had in store. 
The darkness grows the deeper you walk, the light from the farmland property swallowed by the vast abyss. You make out the shapes of the trees and your boyfriend in the muted moonlight, although your dress is still bright, especially the rhinestones glimmering across your body. 
“I wish we matched costumes… I need my prince.” You flirt, “I am a princess after all.” 
The irony almost makes him laugh. You dressed as an untouched white swan, a cursed princess. There was no purity within you, the bleached tulle and feathers on your body were nothing but a mockery for delicacy and heartache. 
“We could’ve been the cutest couple here! But you just wanted to hide under that robe. Are you scared I’m gonna find some marks that aren’t from me?”
Your teasing is cut short when he pins you against a thick tree, your back slams into the jagged bark and the back of your head throbs dully. Stars cloud your vision and you almost don’t notice when he drops to his knees between your legs. “What the hell—Steve!” With his head under your tutu, he makes quick work of tearing off his mask. The ghostly disguise falls to the forest floor face up, the horrid expression glaring at you. 
You try to pull up your dress but he bats your hands away, quickly distracting you with a flat tongue up your clothed cunt. You gasp and your thighs tremble when his wet muscle flicks against your clit, his saliva and your slick soaking through the white lace. 
“W-Wait, right now? I, fuck.” Your back arches when he bites your thigh. 
The silent night is interrupted by an awful tear. Your nylon tights meet the same fate as your lace leotard, torn to bits by his wild hands. 
“Daddy, uhm, I don’t—” Your voice breaks into a moan when his thick fingers slide to the hilt and he harshly sucks your clit. He doesn’t work you up to it, no, he starts like a starved man. He fucks you with two fingers, nudging the plug with his other hand while dining on your button. He latches onto the nub, massaging the nerves with his tongue as your pussy clenches around his digits, sucking him in. 
He’s so rough and sloppy, making out with your cunt and hungrily slurping up your juices, disgracing the surrounding nature with the lewd noises and his guttural groans. Acting as if he hasn’t touched you in a lifetime.  
Ransom briefly considers fucking up the whole plan just to see you properly. He misses your pretty face, your messy cunt and weepy hole, he feels you dripping but he would do anything to see your creaminess coating his fingers, just like his pinky ring. 
The tree bark digs into your back as he hoists you higher. His spit splatters against you before his teeth drag along your clit and he nibbles mockingly. He soothes any aches with his tongue, trailing down your slit to lick into your hole. You whimper when hard slaps land on your nub, and he isn’t as kind this time around and rubs it roughly, bullying your sensitive button with his skilled fingers. 
“Uh! D-Don’t stop, daddy. Please don’t stop.” You pant, already on edge from your previous escapade in the bathroom. You wondered why he didn’t touch you then, and now you’re thankful you waited. Your body has a mind of its own and rocks against his clean-shaven face, fucking yourself on his tongue. He hums against you, either with some degrading comment or praise, you didn’t care. 
You fist his hair under your tutu, legs quivering as he replaces his wet muscle with his digits, pumping knuckle deep. His fingers hit that rough patch with every thrust, forcing your juices out and into his awaiting mouth, racing you toward that edge of euphoria. 
His faint curses go muffled as you convulse, your thighs lock around his head, trapping him against your pussy. You cry out his name, so close to your high that you can taste it—sweet, addictive and full of relief, but you’re yanked from that delight when he pulls back. 
The cold rushes against your wet folds, making you whine from the abrupt loss of his wet warmth. Your concerns die in your throat when he puts on his mask, wiping his fingers on his robe. Your weak legs drop to the ground as he leans back and tilts his head, studying you behind the plastic face. 
Your heart pounds in your chest, the tightness unravelling within your stomach. “Why—Why’d you stop?”
All he does is laugh and stand up, dusting off his knees casually. You call out his name and in confusion, watch him turn around and walk back to the house, leaving you in the forest alone, soaked, and fucking high and dry. 
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At the sight of that familiar mask, you duck and turn the other way. Your drink is almost done so you toss it in the trash and sway through bumping bodies, ignoring the heavy footsteps that are somehow louder than the bass. 
Were you avoiding him? Yes, but with his tall stature, he could easily spot you above the crowd and that limited your hiding spots. 
He deserved it for leaving you out there like a sacrificial lamb. What would’ve happened if you had been shitfaced drunk? You’d probably pass out on the ground and freeze to death, and he’d be responsible for it, the dumb fucking jerk! If he abandoned you out there now, there was no telling if you’d find your way back to the house because tonight, you found out that more drinks go well with holding grudges. 
You scream when your whole world is flipped upside down, and instantly recognize that stupid tattered robe, “Everyone can see my ass, jerk!”
Curtis snorts, you’ve probably fucked everyone in this room already and showing them your ass should be the least of your worries. 
You’re set on your feet in a dark corner of the packed living room, the strobe lights flash across the heads of partygoers, and the music booms loudly, drilling some pop song into your head. He pulls you flush against his chest, crushing your tutu between your bodies.  
“Get off me, asshole.” You try to wiggle free, but he’s too strong and big, he doesn’t even flinch when you stomp on his foot. “Ugh, I said get off!” You squirm when his hand slips between your thighs, meeting your bare cunt. “Steve!”
A sharp spank lands on your pussy, making your legs go numb but he holds you up with one arm, rubbing torturously slow circles on your swollen nub. With the booming music and the alcohol flowing through your system, you don’t register the different voice in your ear. 
“That isn’t what you call me.” 
You shiver, the warmth radiates off his body, luring you with his presence. You’re still wet and so sticky that your slick has smeared to your inner thighs, right where his fingers are tracing now. His touch ignites that fire again, all too effortlessly making you into a needy mess. 
In the flickers of red, he can see every thought leave your head. Dumb little girl. You thought you could hide from him? 
Curtis’ reaches in the slit of his robe to unbuckle his belt, and you’re too preoccupied with riding his fingers. His cock slides between your soaked, ruined folds, replacing his hand as he prods at your soppy hole. You go slack as he rocks slowly but never strays too far, letting you feel every inch.
“D-Daddy, oh!” You snap your jaw shut, “what are you—”
“Hush, you don’t want people to catch us, right?” He asks, thrusting forward until he nudges your puffy button, rubbing the sensitive nerves with the tip. He groans lowly, Ransom really bullied you down there.
Your eyes squeeze shut, your thoughts jumbling together from the overstimulation. “We—We shouldn’t, daddy…” Your voice fades when his hand wraps around your throat, his rough fingers digging into your skin and he forces you to face the crowd.
“None of them know who you really are, huh? What you really are?”
If anyone looked over, they’d instantly know what was going on. It was obvious from your blissed-out expression and his rocking hips, your weak hands grasping at his forearm as he squeezed harder. 
The oxygen goes thin as your eyes roll back, your bones turn to jelly and soon he’s your only support. His beefy arm pins you to his chest, keeping you from falling over as he thrusts into your weepy folds, the bulbous tip catching on your hole but never penetrating. 
If he could, he’d spit in your mouth, make you gag on his saliva until it dribbled down your chin. He wants the whole world to know what a slut you are, and how needy you get for cock that you’ll let him use you just feet away from other people. 
Curtis knows you love the risk. He knew that the moment he met you—because you kissed him in the photo booth and slipped his hand up your skirt, begging in your soft voice for him to touch you. 
Your lips part with a silent moan. He can’t resist slipping two fingers into your mouth, reminiscing when you sucked his dick that very same day and swallowed everything he gave you. Fucking cockslut. There were times when you dropped to your knees under his desk and rubbed over his clothed cock until he let you suck him off. You loved when he used you and when he was mean, acting like a damn bully instead of your loving boyfriend. You wanted to be degraded, ruined and downgraded to a cocksleeve, and that’s why you were his fucking pornstar. 
He still has that photo strip of you smiling, all fucked out and dumb with spit, tears and cum on your face. Your very first picture together and you didn’t even know his last name at the time. 
“Pl-Please let me come this time, daddy.” You plead, weakly meeting his thrusts. 
This time?
Curtis holds back a huff, of course, Ransom would tease the hell out of you. No wonder you’re so pathetic right now, not even thinking straight as he takes you apart on his girth. The partygoers couldn’t see his face, but they could see yours, and how stupid you looked getting fucked in the corner of the room. 
“You gonna come for me and cover daddy’s cock in your cream?” He asks, “Come in front of all these people, show ‘em what a fucking whore you are.”
If you weren’t so dazed, you would’ve realized that Steve has never called you a whore, he barely used slut either. Preferring to call you his sweet baby, his pretty doll, his girl, as he took you apart with suffocating love, those long fingers and his monstrous cock. 
Your high topples over and you cling to his arm, victim to the wave of bittersweet relief. Your orgasm coats his length, claiming him as it streams down your legs, seeping into your tights. You’re so lost in the pleasure and unable to contain your loud pitiful mewl, drawing a few drunken gazes. 
Curtis crowds you, blocking their eyes and presses you into the wall. He grips his cock, slapping the head against your pulsating clit before drawing back, the tip barely pops in before his seed spurts out, filling you up. Some escapes and the thick white cum follows in the trails of your squirt, and the feeling of being owned almost gets you worked up again. 
You can’t hear much with the blood rushing through your head, but you make out a few words: “bathroom” and “clean yourself up.” 
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“W-Wait, we’re goin’ too far…” You slur, clutching the fresh seventh or eighth drink that your boyfriend shoved into your hand. Your previous one spilt all over the floor when he hauled you out of the bathroom. You barely finished cleaning yourself up before he barged in. “It’s your fault I was a mess, daddy… You can’t be mad at me.” 
He doesn’t speak or falter, his purposeful strides so long that you flounder after him. 
“Where are we,” you hiccup, “going?” When faced with no response, you dig your feet into the ground, but your ballet flats are useless in the dry, crumbling dirt. “Hey! I’m talkin’ to you!” 
He stops suddenly and you squeak, bumping into his broad back. Punch—or whatever it was—spills out of the cup splashing onto your white dress, staining the tulle and feathers a bright scarlet. 
“Ugh, Steve! Look what you did!”
He turns around, cocking his head like you were a child throwing a tantrum. 
Your feeble attempts at cleaning the mess only make it worse and spread the vibrant red. “I really liked this costume, and now look… It’s like I was stabbed.” You pout, the alcohol making you a little emotional. “Y-You ruined it! And I-I felt so pretty today—” 
He wraps you in his arms, cooing softly while rubbing your back. You drunkenly cling to his warm body, feeling his muscles under the hooded robe. 
“Let’s stand here for a bit… you gave me a lot of drinks.” You nuzzle into his chest, brushing off the difference of his cologne. Cold night air brushes along your nylon-clad legs, fluttering the delicate mesh of the tutu. You’ve lost some rhinestones as the night went on, but nothing a little hot glue couldn’t fix. “You’ve never done public stuff like that, Stevie. You’re usually so private about us.” 
He shrugs, the booming music is distant but the heavy bass still pounds in your ears. 
“You don’t wanna admit it? C’mon, I won’t tell.” You flutter your lashes, a trick that always works. “I’m into it too, and how you caught me off guard only makes it better.” 
Through blurry vision, you spot a guest house a few ways away. The lights are off, the driveway is empty, and an idea pops into your head. “We could have some real fun, daddy. Don’t you wanna have fun with me?”
This time he hums and drags his hands down your back, gripping your waist. He yanks you close, pushing an oof from your throat. 
“You’re never so rough either.” His bulge presses against your front and you nearly drop to your knees right then and there. “Do you wanna keep the mask on?”
He nods, the lifeless black eyes and dramatically opened mouth absorbing any light, contrasting with the ghostly white face. He’s looming like a shadow the size of a mountain, intimidating you by merely looking at you with a dead gaze as daunting as the creepy fictional character. 
You thought Steve didn’t like horror movies. 
You lean up to kiss him, but he spins you around so quickly that you almost fall over. Tall corn stalks and various pumpkins sit on hay bales under an archway forebodingly lit by lanterns. 
You giggle, “Ooh! You wanna race to see who finds the exit first? I’ll have you know, I’m quite the pro. I go whenever they have one at the pumpkin patch!”
Ari fucking knows that because it’s one of your traditions. You two go every year and get hot chocolate and fresh pie, then head to the corn maze for your annual competition. As always, you get a head start and he pretends to get lost so you have to find a way out together, and he’ll try—and fail—to fool around with you. Your excuse? “There are families here!”
As if you hadn’t begged him to fuck you in the closet when you were visiting his family for spring break. He had to gag you with your panties, you were so needy and pleading for him to fuck you harder, to fuck you stupid just doors away from his parents. 
You wanted to be caught that day, and right now he wished he let you walk out with his cum on your face. Perhaps then, you’d be filled with humiliation just like the four of them. 
He wanted you to think you got away with it, that you’re still the queen and they’re stupid pawns to your game. Just so he can watch the despair wash over your face, the broken pride will fall from your lips in half-assed apologies. 
You’ll cry and beg for forgiveness, for mercy, but they won’t give it to you. No, they want you to suffer, wallow in distraught—just as Odette did when Siegfried swore to love another. 
He watches you run off, your loud inebriated laughter flowing into the open air, joyous and free, the complete opposite of what you’ll be when the clock strikes midnight. 
Out of the corner of his eye, he sees three other hooded figures emerge from the forest. One by one, their stark white masks are bathed in the moonlight, screaming or crying or both. He sets your purse by the entrance after taking your cell phone, and only then does he enter the maze. 
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It isn’t long until he catches up to you, following the fallen feathers from your costume like breadcrumbs. 
You’re leaning against the haystack wall, flashing him a mischievous smile. Your hands drag down your body, teasingly pulling down the front of your dress to expose your cleavage. 
He steps towards you, craving the heat of your skin. He wants to know just how much the other guys ruined you, but you duck under his arm and race deeper into the maze, giggling madly. 
“Gotta be faster than that, daddy!”
The further you go, the darker it gets. Everything looks the same, all varying in shades of green but you try to not get distracted, sugary sweet victory is hot on your mind. You slow down and listen for heavy feet on the grass, but all you hear are crickets and the gentle wind. 
You scream when thick arms wrap around your waist, heaving you high into the air and pinning you against a haystack. Built arms hook under your thighs as his hips slip snugly between your thighs, brushing your overworked core. 
You laugh, “this is like the movie! What does she say?” You think for a moment, “No, please don’t kill me, Mr. Ghostface, I wanna be in the sequel!” You burst into laughter, playfully kicking your feet, “now the stain makes… uh… sense! It makes sense!” 
The shadows cloud over his masked face, making him look sadder or more scared. Horrified would fit the best, but your drunken head couldn’t find the word. 
“You’re so pretty when you beg.” 
All blood drains from your face and fills your heart, sinking it straight to hell and taking your carefree smile with it. 
“What? You don’t miss me?” His deep voice slices through the silence, “Oh, or do you miss someone else more?” From each turn enter three more figures, matching black robes clad over their shoulders with the hoods pulled down, accentuating their stark white disguises. 
He flips up his mask, making you nauseous in a single motion. “Happy Halloween, bunny.” His long hair frames his pale face and his eyes gleam with cruel amusement as a twisted grin plays on his pink lips. 
You open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. 
“Poor girl, did you lose your voice?” Number three. 
“That’s a shame, I love hearing you scream.” Number four.
The rest of the men remove their masks and your eyes drift over each of them. The sick glee drips off their faces and entwine with ferocious hunger. They surrounded you like predators to prey, the reapers to bring you to your inescapable fate—and they were ecstatic about it. 
Number two doesn’t look as happy as Curtis and Ransom, in fact, his expression was unreadable. He was quiet and cold, not only with his schooled features, but he didn’t speak like the rest of them. 
When Steve got quiet, he was terrifying because you didn’t know what to expect. You could only imagine the things going through his head, your sweet, loving, baker boyfriend had a dark side, one that you’ve only seen a handful of times if some guy hit on you. 
He always managed to leave the scene before things got too intense, but you feared this wasn’t one of those times. 
“N-No…”
“No? Did you miss me the most then?” Ari asks mockingly, blue eyes drawn low, “you loved me first, so you must love me the most too.”
You can’t feel the tears streaming down your numb cheeks but you know they’re there, and that’s only confirmed when Ari wipes one with his thumb, and sucks it into his mouth. Your salty misery is his favourite taste but it isn’t enough, all four of them want your ultimate destruction. 
“Cry all you want, bunny. Karma doesn’t give a shit if you’re sad or scared.” Oh but they wanted you to be petrified, “You reap what you sow—and for you, sweetheart, it’s time to bite the bullet.” 
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𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: did someone say a hate fucking gangbang? Bc that’s what’s going to happen. we're starting no nut November with nuts, but oops !! p.s. the date for the next part is on the fic masterlist.
𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞! check out the rest of my kinktober masterlist for my other spooky slutty fics !!
As always, I hope you all enjoyed this and I’d love to hear your thoughts/feedback !! <3 — ☼ 𝐃𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐊𝐨-𝐟𝐢 ☼
I don’t do taglists anymore. ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 & 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲: @𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲
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aethelwyneleigh27 · 9 months
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Ghostface! Ellie Williams and Ghostface! Abby Anderson with a chubby fem s/o
+ featuring some slight yandere and explicit themes (these are dating headcanons to specify)
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A/n: Hi again lovelies! I didn't expect the last one to blow up so quickly so I'm back to writing, honestly every note, like and reblog encourages me to do more and do better so thank you for that. I honestly didn't expect to write something a bit gory after writing mostly fluff so this'll be interesting. Reminder English is not my first language and I'm trying my best, I hope you enjoy:)
I'll possibly add more in the future if I have ideas :3
Meet my cousin y'all: @rabblebite
Disclaimers/Warnings: Slight yandere like behavior???, violence, gore, knife kink, gun kink, stalking, suggestive themes and language. Characters may be a bit OOC (but you already know this, it's ghostface)(the chubby part is just a little add on so there's actually not that many headcanons regarding that)
If you wish to be tagged, please comment that you want to be or follow so that you'll be updated also: Rules for requests
If you don't want to send requests through Tumblr, my Instagram is always an option.
Ellie Williams dating inspired playlist made by me
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Ellie Williams
The first time you met Ellie was a bit of a blur. Let me elaborate...
You were new at the school, first day and all that cliche shit. Bell rings, you run to class. You found yourself in a seat next to a girl, auburn hair and freckles. A few times throughout the class you made eye contact and smiled a few times.
What you didn't know was that Ellie was already freaking out, can you really blame her? A pretty girl sits next to her and smiles at her, not only that but you even offered her a mechanical pencil because hers was flimsy and the led kept breaking on her. She thought you completely forgot about the pencil but did you really?
This was the start of her obsession over you.
After that day she stalked you non-stop, she knew everything. She even kept a small journal, writing down what you did and how she felt about it after.
Her sketchbooks were filled with you, aside from a few other things it was mostly you. There's at least 2-3 doodles on each page of either you or your name on her sketchbook.
May or may not have carved your initials on her guitar before you even started dating.
That mechanical pencil you gave her, she kept it, barely even used it after that so she can keep something of yours.
When she managed to get enough courage to talk to you again, she tried giving you the pencil back in guilt but you refused. You told her to keep it and did that woman worship that pencil.
You got invited to her friend group, which are Dina and Jesse and out of all of them, she hang out with you the most.
After a while, Ellie felt confident enough to ask you out and a sigh of relief for her when you said yes.
She has polaroid of you lying around everywhere in her room, you even stuck some on the edge of your mirror and locker so she'd see it.
Your pet names including: princess, bunny, sweet thing and pretty girl.
The night you found out Ellie was Ghostface was the time you were walking at the street just minding your business when you were pulled in an alleyway but some creepy 50 something year old hobo.
You kicked him off of you and tried to run and the man tried to chase after you. Only to have his mouth covered by a white cloth and stabbed in the back. Hastily running, you got pulled back by the black cloaked stranger and before you could scream, she took off her mask.
"Ellie?" You whisper in fear, you saw her drop her knife and hug you.
You were still in shock, after all you just found out your girlfriend killed someone, rather a lot of people.
"[Name]? Are you alright? He didn't touch you anywhere did he?" She asked, seemingly forgetting she was still wearing her ghostface get up. Lucky for you that you kicked him off before anything else happened.
You two talked it out and you understand her motive behind all of the killings however that doesn't take away from the fact that you're terrified of what consequences await her if she was ever to get caught.
Ellie is aware of what might happen when she gets caught so she does everything she can to make sure you are not in any way, shape or form involved if she was caught.
Even if it means for her to forever rot in prison, she'd rather keep you away than endanger you for being a witness or even a suspect.
She heard about you being flirted with and inappropriately touched by some Chad. After a few days he was spotted, gutted open at the school tree hanging by his clothes.
She'd definitely think it's adorable to see you with the ghostface get up, it's specifically tailored to her size so seeing it on you with the trim dragging on the ground makes her thing of like the ghost costumes with just a white blanket and she just thinks you're such an angel, too pure even.
I just can't stop imagining her with a knife kink, though she doesn't actually cut you with it. She loves the way you whimper and squirm when she presses the cold blade on your plush skin.
She gets off on blood, that being said once she's with you and you already know about the killings, she can't just let it slide.
Someone else's blood on your skin makes her feel all sorts of things. (You may or may have engaged in sexual things after her gutting people up)
Clean up after that is a bit of work so there's that.
Seeing you in lingerie and blood would make her lose all self control.
If you were to accidentally kill someone, she would not only help you clean up but she'll also take responsibility for the kill. She made it look like ghostface did it.
If you were to decide to join in the killings, she'd let you but with moderation.
For example she'll let you make the decision on who to kill or strategize the killings. Before you could even suggest someone who wronged you, they're already 6ft under believe me. Ellie easily picks up on how you feel about someone and it's not like you don't tell her.
She'd also let you watch the killings, either hidden or disguised but that's just how far she'll go. She doesn't want you to actually be the one to do the killing cause she's too paranoid you'll do something that'll cause you to get caught.
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Abby Anderson
You met at the basketball court while you were sitting at the bleachers because let's be real here, Abby is a total jock and athlete, she seems like she'd be a gym rat too. (Without the red flags of one though)
You were sitting with your friends Dina and Jesse while you guys just catched up since the past week has been hectic, you even went so far as to gossip and think of conspiracies on who has been responsible for the reported killings by the killer they named ghostface. You looked at your phone, looking at the messages when you flinched, almost getting hit by a ball.
You open your eyes shortly to see Abby Anderson, the school's lesbian jock, who by the way is holding the ball that almost hit you. Anderson muttered an apology on behalf of her teammate who mistakenly threw the ball at your direction.
You told her it was fine and that it was and honest mistake when you know damn well you would've been far more upset if that ball actually hit you.
Abby just couldn't stop staring at you, I mean could you blame her? She felt like a knight and shinning armour when she just saved a pretty girl from a potential head injury.
She snapped back to reality when she heard her teammate say "Hey Anderson! Stop flirting with pretty girls and pass that ball back will you" Abby was a bit flustered by that comment because all and all she agreed to it.
On Abby's desk is carved your name and initials, she has gotten detention over it though I don't think the school is aware of how many desks have your name carved on them.
It took a while but Abby finally did ask you out, she approached you while you were taking a few things out of your locker. "So uhh, do you want to go out with me? On a date I mean..." She asked with her hand rubbing her neck, Abby was bracing herself for rejection.
You had to do a bit of a double take because the Abby Anderson is asking you out? You said yes obviously.
May or may not have stalked you before asking you out to find out everything you like to set up the perfect date.
Abby definitely has a polaroid of you both is her locker and gym locker. (There's one in her wallet too 🥺)
Your nicknames are: my cheerleader (because she knows damn well you've been to all her games and was there to cheer her on), baby, babe and pretty girl
You only found out that she's ghostface because she couldn't take it anymore and told you after seeing that you're scared of ghostface potentially threatening your life.
Poor baby was so worried you'd think insane if her after, let's just say she ended up loving you more for accepting the fact and understanding the reason behind the killings. (let's be real here any normal person would but not you)
When you first asked to play a part in the killings, Abby disagreed, no way in hell was she letting her girl be in danger both of the police and whatever else is out there.
She hates the idea of you going to jail more than she hates the idea of getting caught and facing the consequences.
But if you really want to then like Ellie she'd let you but with limitations. You're only ever allowed to watch when you are disguised and she'll let you stab a few every now and then.
Abby with a gun kink, Abby with a gun kink, Abby with a gun kink. Watch her get turn on when you flinch from the clicks whenever she pulls the trigger.
Despite Abby hating horror movies, she sure made a hell of a good killer.
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