#ghostface knife wipe | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yeonzzzn · 20 days

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wanna be the sequel: sim jaeyun

part two of chilling & killing 🔪 | spotify playlist

pairing: jake x afab!reader word count: 11.6k

synopsis: you decide to keep jake’s secret of him being the mysterious ghost face killer, always taking up for him and playing dumb to the cases. but as jake’s love for you starts to overpower him and blurs his lines, his killer instinct reaches new heights.

genre: situationship, ghostface!jake, journalist!reader, smut.

warnings: swearing, jake is fucking insane, blood & m*rder, reader has a dream of being k!lled, knife play, fingering, oral (m. rec), cum eating, multiple unprotective sex scenes, one public sex scene bc jake got jealous, reader gets fucked against a mirror, reader gets cut at some point, if I missed everything please let me know!

His smirk sent chills down your spine as he buried himself deep within you, one hand was on your neck and the other squeezed the plush of your thighs. His thrusts were rough and relentless, that evil smirk growing wider and wider as the clock ticked along.

“I’ve dreamt of this,” he cooed, cock twitching against your walls, “Fucking you to death, it’s so hot.”

His hand left your thigh, and where it went, you had no idea. You just knew his thrusts were now sloppy and his cum was filling you whole.

“Hmmm, so pretty,” he cooed again, breathing hard after his release, an unbearable amount of pain now being felt at your side, “So pretty with how you bleed out for me.”

You looked to your left, seeing his knife pushed between your skin and your blood gushing onto the handle, his hand, and the floor.

You gasped for air, tears swelling your eyes as you looked up at him, begging for him to stop.

“Awe, sweet baby,” he slowly pulls the knife out of your side, bringing it up to his face, “Your blood is pretty too, everything about you is so pretty.”

You tried to pull yourself up, to throw him off you, but your body weighed millions, arms like lead.

He presses the tip of his knife to your bare chest, aiming right atop your heart, “I’ve always wondered what it would feel like to kill you, feeling your blood on my hands,” he slowly pushed the knife in, and your gasps came in a rush and slowly dragged. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, “Sweet honey, so pretty even when you’re dying.”

He laughs. You blinked at him as the tears fell down your cheeks, taking one final breath and everything turning black.

You shot straight up in your bed, hands reaching for your chest and side, not feeling the wounds. It was just a dream…just a dream.

Sweat droplets slid down your face and you wiped them away with the back of your hands. The cool air of your apartment helped cool you off from the dream. Creating goosebumps on your skin.

The dream. Where was Jake?

You looked to your left, seeing his side of the bed empty, “Jake?” you called out, your heart racing faster, “Jaeyun?”

You glanced at the chair in the corner of the room, seeing his duffle bag still there, the ghost face mask hanging from the top of the chair, staring directly back at you. His side of the bed was cold, proving he’d been gone for a while, “Jake?” you called out again, the silence was starting to make you go crazy, crazier than you already were for homing a serial killer.

You had feelings for him, despite everything he has done and will do. You wanted to fix him, praying that having him by your side twenty-four-seven was doing the trick, even if it was a little at a time.

But you started to panic, slowly starting to crawl out of bed when your bedroom door opened and your heart stopped.

“You called for me, honey?” Jake asked with a quart of cherry vanilla-swirled ice cream in his hands and a spoon hanging from his mouth. You stared at him, not knowing what to make of this. He looks down at the quart in his hands and back up at you, “I was craving a late-night snack.”

How was the man in front of you a serial killer? How was he clinically insane and batshit crazy, but craved ice cream? Being so soft and gentle at this moment. You’d never guessed he’d murdered so many people.

Jake pulled the spoon from his mouth and reached it back into the quart, “Want some?”

You shrugged but nodded, might as well right?

With a cute smile on his face, he sits down on the bed in front of you and scoops up the creamy goodness, and holds it to your mouth, “Say ah!”

You let him feed you, feeling your heartwarming by how cute he was right now. How…angelic he was. Jake’s happy expression quickly changes to a concerned one, “Honey, what’s wrong?” He sat the ice cream down on the nightstand table and placed his cold hands on your cheeks, thumbs wiping away the tears you didn’t realize were still there, “talk to me.”

You didn’t know how to tell him you dreamed of him killing you. Mostly when nearly two months ago he was so willing to slice your throat open on your kitchen floor. “It was just a bad dream.”

Jake pouts, “My sweet baby,” he lays down beside you and pulls you to his chest, cuddling you close to him, “I’m sorry, want to talk about it?”

You shook your head, wrapping your arm around his waist, “I just want to be close to you, it’s helping. I promise.”

Jake pressed a kiss to the top of your head. He wasn’t stupid, he knew exactly what you dreamt of. The look on your face gave it away. Jake expected it, honestly. He almost killed you, so you have a very valid reason for having such horrid dreams as that. Jake couldn’t lie, he wanted nothing more than to slice his knife across certain parts of your body to watch you bleed, but not kill you. How could he kill the love of his life?

He held you close, listening to the sound of your breathing and how it slowed down as you drifted back off to sleep. He slowly traced his thumb up and down your back, his eyes locking onto his mask hanging from the chair, and a smirk spread on his lips.

It was almost time.

—

You leaned against the table, crossing your arms and staring at the corkboard. Eyes tracing along the red thread that connected each murder case. The murder cases against Ghost Face…against Jake. You mindlessly kept your eyes tracing, acting like you were busy trying to figure it out, acting like you normally would on any other day. It’s been a rough couple of months of lying to the rest of your club, that’s for sure. How did Jake do it this whole time?

“YN!!” You whip your head around to the new recruit of the club, seeing her bright cute smile as she walks up to you, and then look at the board, “You’ve been staring for a while, find any new clues?”

Danielle Marsh, a freshman and such a sweet girl who came from Australia on a journalism scholarship and has the brains—and the grades—to make it big one day. She is just as invested in the Ghost Face murders almost as much as you were. Lying to such a sweet soul every day was heartbreaking.

“Nope, not yet? Dani,” you said with a fake sigh, looking back at the board, “Nothing new.”

“Well darn!” her cute Aussie accent puffed, “I’ve also been staring at this all day, and going through your old journals and notes about the cases to get a brighter idea, but nothing.”

You thinned your lips to a line and looked down to the floor, “It’s rough out here.”

It was silent in the club room until the doors opened, both you and Danielle looking to see Jake walking in with a bag, “I brought lunch!”

Danielle clapped her hands, rushing to Jake and taking the bag, “Thank you!”

He smiles at her, both of you watching as she makes herself comfy at the table and pulls out everyone’s food.

You sit across from her, feeling Jake wrap his arms around your shoulders and resting his chin atop your head.

Danielle hands you a box with your food but notices there are only two boxes, “Are you not eating, Jake?” you ask him.

He shakes his head, “Nope, I ate earlier. I have somewhere to be here soon. Only stopped by to drop off lunch and head out.”

You hummed, wondering what he had to be doing here soon. You already knew, or assumed, what he was doing, but you also couldn’t ask, not with Danielle in the room.

So you both ate in silence, her eyes glancing on and off from you and Jake, a small smile on her face, “Jake have you figured anything else out about the murders?”

You tried to act normal, to keep your body calm and a poker face on, continuing to eat as if that question didn’t trigger something.

Jake just sighs, deciding to sit beside you now and dropping his face into his palm, “Not a thing. Whoever he is, he’s smart, that’s for sure.”

Way to boost your own ego there, Jake Sim.

“He’ll get caught someday,” Danielle casually says, taking a bite of her chicken.

Jake’s eyes lit up as he smiled, “Oh yeah? You think so?”

You carefully watched him. Jake knew your eyes were on him, watching his body language and how he looked at Danielle. He knew you were probably worried about her, possibly what he’d do to her. But you needn't worry, he wouldn’t harm her. Not unless she got too close.

Danielle nods, “He’s killed over thirty people and somehow stolen evidence from the police station after his first mess up. He’s bound to make another mistake.”

Jake raised his brows, heart pounding fast with excitement. Silly little thing, thinking he was fucking stupid enough to make another mistake like the first time. He was more careful than ever to make sure it wouldn’t happen again. Plus he had you now, you’d make sure nothing bad happened to him.

“Anyway,” Danielle said, changing the subject, “Suspects,” she giggled, “Who do you think the man behind the mask is?”

It was Jake’s turn to watch you, a smile still on his face, “Yeah, honey, have any ideas or clues?”

You wanted to punch him, knowing he was doing this on purpose to tease you, to test you.

So you shrug, keeping your eyes locked to your food, “No idea. I thought I was close once, but after the evidence disappeared, it was back to the drawer board.”

Good fucking girl.

Jake wanted to kiss you so hard right now. It turned him on hearing you lie for him. To act so dumb and oblivious. All for him.

He glanced up at the clock on the wall, his smile only growing wider.

“I’d love to stay with you lovely ladies,” Jake stands up, wrapping his arms back around you, “But I need to head out.” You nod, noticing Danielle’s mouth and eyes are smiling at you both.

Jake kisses your cheek and squeezes you tightly then is out the door.

“You two make such a good couple,” she coos, “Not only are you both the best journalists at this college, you’re the IT couple too!!~~~”

You softly chuckle, “We aren’t together though…” you sigh staring down at your chicken, “More of a situationship than anything else.”

Danielle frowned, “But he moved in with you, didn’t he? He holds your hand around campus and even shows you off on his Instagram. Totally thought you’d be an item.”

You shrug, taking a bite out of your food and swallowing, “He hasn’t asked me out or anything, so there’s technically not a label.”

You honestly didn’t know what Jake wanted with you. He treated you like a girlfriend, made love to you like a girlfriend, and did everything a boyfriend would do. Yet you still had no idea what he wanted. You were more surprised that he agreed to move into your apartment with you, considering he spends his free time, ya know, killing people. You mostly only asked him to move in to save poor Sunghoon, but also because you wanted him close to you. Maybe you were more insane than Jake was.

“Well,” Danielle sighs, “You two still are really cute together. I hope it eventually turns into a real relationship.”

You and me both, Dani.

—

Jake pulls a cell phone from his pocket, quickly dials a number, and presses the device to his ear, adjusting his duffle bag on his shoulder.

“Jake!” she sang on the other line, “Where are you?”

Jake smirks, “I am looking for you, Luna.”

She softly giggles over the line, “I am standing right where you told me to.”

Jake knew where she was. He could see her standing in the alleyway across the street from him. She wore a cute red glittery dress with matching high heels. Blonde dyed hair pulled back into a neat ponytail that was braided. She was cute, but nothing compared to you, his sweet honey.

“I am almost there,” he says, dropping his duffle bag to the ground. He was also standing in an alleyway, it being too dark for anyone to notice him, or even notice Luna across the street from him, “I might have taken a wrong turn.”

She giggles again, “Aren’t you like, top of your class or something? It’s what your dating profile said.”

“Ahh,” Jake chuckles, pulling his black suit from the bag, holding the phone between his ear and shoulder as he puts it on, “I’m book smart, not street smart.” It took everything in Jake to not laugh at how gullible this woman was. It’s why he picked her in the first place. It was so easy to create a fake dating profile on some random ass app with a fake last night and profile picture. This woman doesn’t even actually know what he looks like. Made this all the more fun. It wasn't just because of how stupid she was, she openly has it on her profile that she’s a Ghost Face enthusiast. Imagine that! A personal fan of his, what an honor it was to kill a fan. And an honor to her to be killed by him. Pity though, she was really pretty. He didn’t drive three hours here and wasted another two waiting around for night to hit just to make this an easy kill for her. No no, he was going to make this fun.

Jake continued to watch Luna as she laughed across the street, kicking her heels into the rubble of the street and pulling out his mask. “Wait,” He says, “I think I see you.”

Luna looks up and down the street and even behind her. “I don’t see you.”

“I’m across the street from you,” he smirks, tossing his duffle bag behind some abandoned boxes, and taking further steps back into the dark alleyway, “Walk over to me?”

She smiles and tucks her bottom lip between her teeth, looking both ways before jumping from the curb and rushing across the street, “You better be giving me the best fuck of my life for making me run in heels.”

Jake’s smirk only grew, adjusting his mask over the top of his head, “Oh, don’t worry I’ll fuck you real good, I promise.”

He slid the mask down in place, holding the phone back between his shoulder and ear to slide his gloves on his hands.

“Good,” Luna let out a huff, taking a deep breath as she reached the other side of the street, “snow where are you?”

Jake hid in the darkness, “Hiding, gotta come find me,” he said in a teasing voice, watching how she smiled and walked down the alleyway. Stupid woman.

“I don’t see you, and why do you sound muffled?”

“Must be the shitty connection.”

She shrugs, slowly but surely making her way towards Jake. The closer she got, the more he could tell she was getting uncomfortable, “Jake it’s really dark out here, where are you?”

“Hmmm,” he hums, “I’ll tell you if you answer my question.”

She stops walking, clicking her tongue, and turns around, facing away from him.

Perfect.

“What?” she says annoyed, “If you’re pulling a prank and are actually on the other side of the street I swear.”

“I’m not, don’t worry,” Jake clenched the voice changer attached to his suit, “I just need to ask,” he pressed the button, “What’s your favorite scary movie?”

Luna’s heart dropped, her blood going cold, but a smile on her face, nevertheless, “I didn’t know you were also a Ghost Face enthusiast,” she giggled, “That kind of hot, actually. Didn’t think I’d find anyone else from this town who also was into it.”

Jake creeps up on her slowly, his knife being pulled from his pocket, “You see, the thing is, I am not from this town,” Luna’s smile fades, “I’m also not an enthusiast.”

Before she could turn around, Jake ended the call, tossing the burner phone somewhere in the abyss of the alley, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, and pressing the knife to her neck.

Luna gasps, dropping her phone and purse to the ground, hands flying to Jake’s arm. She opened her mouth to scream, but the sharpness of Jake’s knife cut deep into her throat, the warm red liquid spilling from her neck and down the front of her hands and arms, her dress, and Jake’s arm.

“I am the Ghost Face,” he whispers as Luna starts to struggle against his hold, clawing at his arm with her nails, ripping the long sleeve of his suit, and digging into his skin.

He hisses as pushes her to the ground, her body landing with a thud. Using all the strength she had in her dying body to try and crawl away from him, her blood staining the concrete.

Jake was pissed now. He’d have to sew his suit back together and probably stitch up his arm once he’s back at the apartment. Oh, how worried you’ll be once you see him tonight. His anger flourishes even more, pissed at Luna for how she will make you worry about him.

Jake looped his boot at her waist, lifting her up and forcing her to flip over. He quickly dropped down, straddling her, loving the scared look on her face. The look of death looming over.

“Awe,” he coos, his Aussie accent mixed with the voice mod sent chills down her spine, “You really tried your best to get away,” he pins her arms down with his knees, and free hand pinned her shoulder to the ground, “You really shouldn’t trust random people on the internet. Haven’t your parents taught you that?” She gasped for air, trying to find some way to scream out for help. Jake clicked his tongue, hovering the tip of his knife to her chest, “Don’t you also know it’s rude to ignore people?” he slowly pushed the knife in, “Your parents didn’t teach you a damn thing, no wonder you’re so gullible.”

The sounds of her gasps mixed with the gurgling sounds of her blood pooling out from her neck and chest were music to his ears. He quickly pulled the knife out and slid it back in, creating a new wound. Jake repeated the process, spreading Luna’s blood all over himself, his mask, her dying body, and the ground. Loving how his knife sounded as it repeatedly broke her skin.

Jake was sweating, feeling the droplets stream down his face, needing some air.

He slid the mask up, finally revealing his true face to her. Blood dripped from her mouth as she stared blankly at him, vision going blurry. He laughs, “Still kicking? What a trooper.” He lifted up his right arm, shoving the sleeve up to his elbow, revealing the deep cuts her nails left, “No wonder you left such a nasty wound, you’re a fighter even when you’re fucking stupid.” Luna tried to fight, to say anything, her heartbeat barely holding on.

Jake traced the tip of his knife down the side of her pale face, “My girl might kill me when I return home after seeing the damage you did to my arm,” he tilted his head, “I promised her I would be careful,” he chuckles, “Oh well, I’ll cross that bridge when I get there.”

“fuck…you…” was all Luna managed to say with her dying breath.

Jake’s smile grew, “That wasn’t very nice.” He was done playing now, wanting to return home and cuddle you the rest of the night. He wasted enough time here, “So long, Luna.”

Jake made his final strike, her blood splattering across his face as she took her final breath.

—

You paced about the living room, arms crossed over your chest and hands rubbing your upper arms. Where was he? It’s been hours and he was nowhere to be seen. You called Sunghoon asking if he was with him, only to your dismay, Sunghoon hasn’t seen him since soccer practice this morning.

You already figured out what Jake was doing. His duffle bag wasn’t in its normal spot in the bedroom. The endless thoughts of the worst possible scenarios raced through your head. What if something happened? What if he got caught? What if his victim fought back and he couldn’t get away? Many more different thoughts spilled about your brain. And you wouldn’t rest until he either walked through that door or called you.

You’ve called him multiple times. Texted him too. But got no response. Jake normally turns his phone off when he…to keep from someone tracking his location or disturbing him. It only made you worry more.

The spots on the hard floor were now warm from your pacing and your neighbors below you were probably getting ready to grab a broomstick and start hitting their ceiling.

But all your worries faded when your ears picked up the sound of keys jingling from the other side of the front door, being pushed into the lock and turning. The door opened and finally, Jake stepped inside. He smiled at you, “Hi my sweet honey, you waited up for me?”

You wanted to rush to him, to hug him and kiss him and yell at him for being gone so long and making you worry. To beat the shit out of him for committing another murder and how you felt like shit because all you want to do is fix him. But to your dismay, you know you can’t fix insanity, not when you’re also insane.

Jake tilted his head, “Not going to welcome me home?”

You noticed the dried blood on his face and hair, you pitted whoever the victim was, “Welcome home, Jake.”

“That my sweet honey,” he drops the duffle bag to the floor and walks over to you, embracing you to his chest. He smelt of sweat and blood, causing you to scrunch your nose.

“You need a shower.”

Jake chuckles, squeezing you tightly, “I know.”

You ran your hands from his shoulders down to his forearm, his face wincing. You looked up at him, “What's wrong?”

Jake awkwardly smiled, “Nothing.”

You looked down to his forearm where your hand gripped onto his hoodie sleeve, noticing how pale his skin looked on his hand. Something happened. You quickly pulled up the sleeve, seeing four deep cuts to the skin.

“Now…honey—“

“What the fuck happened?!” You snapped, pointing your finger to the kitchen table, “Sit the fuck down.”

Jake quickly nodded. Shit, she might actually fucking kill me.

You pulled the first aid kit from the bathroom and quickly rushed back to him, kneeling down in front of him. He was lucky you decided to buy the most expensive one and had first aid training. Ya know, in case something like this happened. Jake explained to you the series of events that led up to now, with an insane smile on his face the entire time.

“It was perfect,” he coos, “You should have seen it, honey.”

You gently smiled at him, deciding to keep your thoughts on how you were perfectly fine not being there to witness it. You cleaned up what you could of the wounds, “You’ll need stitches.”

He cocks his head, eyes filled with so much endearment for you, “Good thing I have you to take care of me, ya?” He caresses your cheek, thumb gliding to your lips and pulling the button one down, “So good for me.”

You pulled from his graze, reaching into the kit and pulling out the tools, dissolvable stitches, and bandages, “This will probably hurt.”

Jake shrugs, “I’m a soccer player, I’ve had stitches and broken bones before.”

You pushed off his sassy attitude, preparing the needle and the string. Jake sat through it like a champ, only winching when the needle pierced through his skin. You placed ointment over the stitches and bandaged it up, “All done.”

Jake leans forward and places a kiss on your forehead and then leans back into the chair, “Thank you, honey.”

You packaged up the kit, another thought shooting in your mind, “She dug her nails into you, correct?”

Jake inhales, “Yeah? Isn’t that what I said?”

You glared at him, “She probably has your DNA under her nails, you fucking idiot!”

Your chin was between his index finger and thumb before you even had the chance to blink, his face inches away from yours, “I’m not a fucking idiot!” he hissed between his teeth, “I took care of it.” He dropped your chin, running his hands through his dark sweaty, and blood-soaked hair, keeping eye contact with you. Your pissed-off glare was relentless, and oh man, it was turning him on. Seeing you so pissed off at him yet so worried about his well-being. What did he do to deserve you?

Jake drops his hand to his crotch, palming his hardening length, “I love it when you look at me like that,” he tilts his head, “You know what I’d love even more?”

You waited, feeling your arousal starting to pool on your panties.

“Your mouth wrapped around my cock.”

Jake slowly unbuttoned his jeans, looping his thumbs in between the fabric of his boxers and skin, sliding both his jeans and boxers down to the floor, his fully hard dick resting against his abdomen. He tilted his chin up, signaling for you to touch him.

So you did, wrapping your hand around his base and slowly pumping him, taking the precum spilling from the tip and spreading it around the head. Jake groans at your touch, cock twitching, “Stop teasing me, baby.”

He places his hand on your head, gently pushing you forward, his tip touching your lips. You place a few kisses to the tip, sneaking your tongue out and wrapping it around the head, hand sliding up and down the shaft as you slowly take him in your mouth, bobbing your head in a slow motion and flattening your tongue to fit him in deeper.

“Fuck, honey,” he moans, moving your head with his hand to help you pick up the speed, “Your mouth feels so good.”

His tip hits the back of your throat, kicking in your gag reflex, sending vibrations against him. Jake hisses, flinging his head back over the chair and bucking his hips up, “Fuck, YN, oh fuck.”

Your hands now held onto his thighs, feeling the muscles flex against your palms as he bucked his hips up into your mouth, your nose brushing against his pelvis. You tucked your feet beneath you and squeezed your thighs together, trying to feel some fiction of your own as your arousal pooled in your panties, more than likely soaking through the thin material and your shorts.

Tears swelled your eyes as you tried to breathe through your nose, relishing too much in this pleasure of having him so far down your throat to even dare think about coming up for air. But the twitch his cock did against your tongue told you enough that he wouldn’t last much longer.

You fluttered your eyes up, already seeing him staring back down at you. Jake’s eyes were completely blown out, mouth gaped open, and breathing deeply. The dried blood on his face—for whatever reason—mixed with the facial expression of pure bliss, was so fucking hot on him.

It didn’t make sense to you, how you could find blood splattered across his beautiful face to be so attractive. Maybe it was just your plain attraction to him, the feelings you felt for him that ran so deep that he made blood look good.

Jake loved this moment, loved you. He couldn’t take his eyes off you, watching how his cock disappears down your throat. God, it was perfect, way better than the murder he committed hours ago. He loved how the tears swelled your eyes but you loved every moment of his cock in your mouth.

“You look so pretty wrapped around my cock, baby,” he bucked his hips up harder, hitting the back of your throat and you moaned around him. His fingers tangled in your hair, “I’m gonna fill that pretty little mouth of yours with my load and you’ll swallow it, understand?”

You tried to nod but instead batted your eyes at him in understanding, he just smirked, “Good girl.”

With a few bobs of your head, Jake pushed you down onto him, hips snapping up to meet your nose against his pelvis, his cum shooting down your throat. He took a few deep breaths, rocking his hips to chase out that high, flinging his head back against the chair.

When his grip on your hair released, you slid him out your mouth, causing Jake to look back up at you, waiting. You swallowed his seed, opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out, showing the proof.

Jake smirks, leaning forward and giving you a quick kiss, “I’m so in love with you.”

He stands from the chair, kicking his legs out of his jeans and boxers and pulling the hoodie and shirt off too, tossing them to the floor.

You narrowed your eyes at him, piercing daggers into his back. He just got the best head of his life and he’s stripping and dropping his nasty bloody clothes all over your floor?

“Honey?” he calls for you, pulling out his bloody suit and mask, “Would you mind please washing my clothes for me? I’ll repay you by making breakfast in the morning.”

He turns to you, picking up all the clothes he left on the floor and handing them to you, his naked body distracting you.

“Hey,” he grabs your chin, forcing you to look up at his face, “I’ll make love to you after my shower, okay?” He gives you a wink, “Please wash my clothes?” You quickly nod, how could you turn down getting dicked down later AND breakfast tomorrow morning? He placed one last kiss on your lips and made his way to the shower.

—

You leaned against the arcade machine, watching as Jake and Sunghoon slapped their palms onto the buttons of the Tekken game, both their faces with full smiles and concentration. Your eyes wandered down to Jake’s arms and hands, his beautiful veins popping out.

“Be careful,” you said, fully noticing just how hard the two boys were slapping the buttons, “This is an old machine.”

“YES!!” Sunghoon screamed, raising his hands in the air and causing you to jump back from being startled by his outburst, “Suck it Jake!”

Jake dropped his face into his hands, resting his elbows on the machine, “I was so sure I had you!”

Sunghoon patted Jake’s back, “Can’t win them all buddy.”

Jake quickly shot up from the stool, his index finger pointing across the arcade, “Dance battle me!”

Sunghoon smirked, “You’ll lose again.”

Jake flipped him the bird, shoving the middle finger in his face as he walked away, “Try me.”

The two of them rushed to the Dance Dance Revolution game, fighting over who would use their coins for the round.

You still get whiplash every time you see Jake doing normal things. That this man—who is a fucking serial killer—is fighting with his best friend over who is going to pay for the game, just like any normal set of friends would do. Besides the fact that he is far from normal.

“Kids, am I right?”

You got startled for the second time today, jumping and quickly whipping your head around to see where and who the voice came from. You recognize that dyed blonde hair and smile.

Jay Park. A student in the film department. You’ve worked with him plenty of times on different projects for the college. He even helped you and Jake on one of the first few Ghost Facer murder cases. It’s been a while since you’ve actually gotten to see or really speak to him besides in passing.

You leaned against the Tekken arcade machine and crossed your arms, your eyes wandering back to Jake and Sunghoon, watching as they competitively danced away, “Yeah, boys will be boys, I guess.”

Jay follows your gaze over to them, chuckling at them, “Are they always like this?”

That…was a good question. You and Jake didn’t hang out with Sunghoon very often. Even before you found out about Jake’s Ghost Face persona you didn’t see a lot of Sunghoon. Nothing was different now.

So you just kind of shrugged, “When I see the two of them together, yeah.”

Jay was looking at you again, eyebrows raised, “When you see them both?” you nodded, “Oh, well figured you would since you’re dating Sim.”

“Actually,” you sigh, once again being reminded how he’s not yours, “We aren’t…dating.”

Jay was now even more confused, “Doesn’t he live with you?”

You thinned your lips and gave another shrug, “It’s complicated.” Complicated because I’m housing a serial killer who has yet to slap a label on what we even are.

“So you’re single then?” you nod again, “In that case.” Jay leaned closer to you, his face a few inches away from yours and his arm resting behind you against the gaming machine, “Would you like to go out with me sometime? If I am being honest, I’ve always found you super cute.” Jay couldn’t help but let his eyes wander down your body, stopping at the ruffles of your skirt, loving how the cute flowered laced ends looked against your pushed thighs, “I would pay and everything, be my treat.”

The dance ended with Jake and Sunghoon practically coming to a tie, Jake only by three points ahead of him.

“Fuck…” Jake pants, “You…” he said with another pant and once again giving his best friend his middle finger, “Beat your ass.”

Sunghoon shoved his friend's hand out of his face, rolling his eyes, “By three points!”

Jake just smiles, happy with his win, “YN did you see…” Jake barely turned around to speak with you to see you still by the last game they played and Jay in your personal space. His blood boiled and his fists clenched, “Why is Park in my girl's space?”

Sunghoon took a deep breath, still tired from the intense dance battle, and turned, seeing the same thing Jake was, “Maybe he's just being friendly?”

Friendly? HA. Right. That look on Jay’s face was anything but friendly. Jay was looking at you the way he does, “Friendly my ass,” Jake hissed, “I don’t like it.”

Sunghoon sighed, “Well, maybe if you made it official between the two of you, he wouldn’t be in her space.”

Make it official? Wasn’t Jake living under your roof, sleeping in your bed, fucking you so good every single night not proof enough that you two were exclusive? That you’re his and no one else’s?

Jake’s anger boiled further, seeing how you shook your head at Jay but kept smiling at him. His smile only became bigger. Jake’s nails sank into his palm.

“Damn, dude,” Sunghoon whistled, “Never seen you so jealous before.”

Jealous? Ridiculous.

“Why don’t you go get us a table at that restaurant we planned to hit up after this,” Jake said with a killing calm, “YN and I will meet you there soon.”

Sunghoon agreed, mostly because he wanted no part of whatever it was Jake was about to do. He’s never seen him so jealous over something. Sunghoon definitely didn’t want to be around if a fight broke out. Praying to every god possible that you’re able to keep Jake calm.

Once Sunghoon was out of the arcade, Jake stepped down from the dance game, eyes blazing at seeing Jay trace his fingers down from your shoulder to your wrist.

Jake was on you in an instant, “Hands off my girl,” he growled, shoving Jay away from you and pulling you behind him, his killer instinct coming on full display. Oh man, how badly did Jake want to kill Jay. To slowly sink his knife into his neck and watch the life drain from his eyes and blood stream from the wound.

Jay chuckled, “Your girl?” he smirked, leaning back against the gaming machine, “Didn’t realize she belonged to you.”

This was the first time you were actually scared of Jake. You’ve never seen him so pissed off, so protective. His grip on your wrist was growing tighter the longer he pierced daggers at Jay.

“I came in her this morning, making her mine,” Jake smirked, the fire in his eyes not relenting.

“Are you a dog?” Jay scrunched his nose and raised a brow, “Marking your territory or some shit?”

“Fucked her in doggy, so yeah.”

“Jesus fucking christ.” Jay stood up straight, taking a few steps back, “What the fuck man.”

“Woof.”

“Jake!” you slapped his arm, trying to yank your wrist free, your cheeks flushed from him exposing your morning deeds, “Stop, let’s just go!”

You tried to pull Jake now, only for him to yank you back closer to him, you tripping over your feet and landing against his back, “What’s wrong baby? Am I embarrassing you?” he coos, “Were you so bored of me that you had to slut around and flirt with someone who wasn’t me?”

“Hey!” Jay barked, “Don’t talk to her like that!”

“Or what?” Jake said with a chilling calm, taking a few steps closer to Jay, being inches apart from his face, “Don’t fuck with me.”

“Get out,” Jay scoffed, “Before I kick you out.”

Jake raised a brow, “Yeah?”

“Yeah, asshat, my family owns this arcade. I work here, get the fuck out.”

Jake smirks, walking backward and sliding his arm over your shoulder, “Nah, we got some coins left to use.”

The last thing Jay wanted to do was call the police and have to explain to his family it was all over a girl. So he watched Jake cling to you as he turned you both around, placing a kiss on your temple, keeping eye contact with him the entire time. Jay didn’t know Jake well, but the man he was seeing right now, scared the shit out of him. Like he could kill him in a heartbeat. So Jay left it alone, walking over to the front counter and sitting down on the stool, keeping an eye on you to make sure you were okay.

Jake dropped himself in front of another fighting game, pulling you into his lap, lips on your ear, “You better fucking talk me out of this one,” he growled, “because if you don’t I’m returning here later tonight, and fucking killing him and stringing his body from the ceiling for his family to find tomorrow morning.”

Your heart sank, eyes looking over to Jay and seeing his eyes staring back at you, “Jake please,” you whispered.

“Please what?” he whispered back, both his hands rubbing at your thighs, “You were so flirty with him and now you’re begging me to not kill him?”

You hated how his voice in your ear was making you wet. How his hands squeezing your bare thighs was sending chills up your spine. Jake knew it was turning you on, he wasn’t stupid. He knew your body and how it works and how to work it, he was using this to his advantage.

You leaned back into him, slightly turning your face so you could see him in your peripherals, “Jake, you know I only want you.” And it was true. You wanted only Jake. You loved him. Yeah, you got kinda flirty with Jay, but it wasn’t going anywhere, you kept turning down his advances and he wasn’t taking no for an answer, but that doesn’t mean Jake needs to kill him. You had to play Jake’s game and be in control, “Only you.”

Jake chuckles, sliding his hands to your inner thighs and spreading your legs, exposing your red panties to Jay. Jake took a quick glance at him, seeing his face turn red and his eyes widen. Jake didn’t just chuckle because of what you said, he was chuckling at you. He found it so cute that you think you’re the one in control, “I love watching you think you’re controlling me,” he licks at the shell of your ear, “You can’t play mind games with a serial killer, baby,” Chills went throughout your body as his fingers slid up to your core, “Nice try though.”

“Jake,” you gasped, clenching your fingers to the stool, his knuckle rubbing against your folds, “I truly only want you, I don’t want him.”

Ahh your words were music to his ears. Your voice so full of truth, and your cunt so wet for him. Only him, “Here’s what’s going to happen,” he whispers, “You’re going to pull the last few coins from my pocket and play this game here, got it?” You nod, slipping a hand into his jeans pocket and taking out the golden arcade coins, “Don’t put them in yet,” he licks another stripe up your ear, his thumb looping into your panties.

“What are you do—Jake!” you softly moaned his name, feeling the cool air hit your exposed cunt as he split your pussy lips open with his index and ring finger, the middle sliding up and down from your fuck hole to your clit and back down, “Jake, we’re in public,” you finally managed to say, eyes rushing back to Jay, seeing him dead staring.

“And?” he laughs, sliding his middle finger into your cunt, “We’re going to give him a show.”

You knew Jake was insane, knew something like this was nothing compared to the things he’s done, yet it still surprised you nevertheless that he had your legs spread and pussy out for another man to see.

Jake kept a firm grip on your thigh as his finger slowly pumped in and out of you, his eyes piercing at Jay. Jake kept eye contact as he flattened his tongue against the end of your neck and licked up and up until he reached just below your jaw, planting an open-mouthed kiss on that sweet spot. Jake loved how agitated Jay was getting. How he tried so hard to look away from the two of you but couldn’t. It was a mind game, one Jake was going to win.

But GOD you felt so good against his finger, so good he slipped his index and ring fingers in along with the middle, stretching your pussy. You moaned out, it being loud enough Jay was able to hear it from across the arcade, the tips of his ears turning red.

You clenched around Jake’s fingers and he hissed, his cock begging to be freed from the confinements of his jeans. He didn’t want to want any longer.

Jake lifted you off him, “Put the coins in the machine.” You listened, sliding the golden metal in one by one until the start-up screen loaded, “Now play the game.” You tried to focus on the start of it, but the sounds of Jake’s belt unlatching and zipper being pulled down, made it hard.

He spreads your pussy’s lips again, lining the tip to your entrance, “Slide down on me baby.”

Heat rises to your face cheeks, eyes darting around the arcade, Jay’s eyes being the only ones watching you, the only pair that even noticed what was happening in this corner. You slowly slid down onto Jake, him hissing out a soft “fuck,” when his tip kisses your cervix.

Jake squeezed your hips, thanking whatever little voice in your head that told you to wear a skirt today and making this so much easier on him and it is so fucking hot.

He bucked his hips up, not even giving you time to adjust to his size. You bit down on your lip as you played the game, trying to focus on the fight in front of you. Your palm squeezed the joystick so hard you were afraid you’d break it.

Fuck you felt so good wrapped around him. And it felt so good to fuck you in front of Jay, relishing in the look spread across Jay’s face and how tightly his jaw was locked. Jake just smirked, fucking into you harder and faster.

You couldn’t keep control of the game, eventually giving up and gripping onto the sides of the machine, trying with everything you had to not scream out in pleasure. Jake took this as an opportunity, him grabbing you by your neck and pushing you against his chest, his knees lifting up and spreading your legs further apart.

“You don’t know how badly I want to kill him,” he whispers in your ear, being so out of breath, “I can’t fucking stand how he was looking at you, looking at what’s mine,” The anger returned, the jealously. Fuck he was jealous. That was a first for him, “I want to kill him for looking at my girlfriend.”

Girlfriend. He called you his girlfriend. You clenched around him after hearing that, the pleasure washing over you tenfold at having that label.

“Hmmm fuck baby,” he groans, “keep clenching me like that and I’m going to spill into you.” You clenched again, not purposely, it just felt so fucking good to be fucked by your boyfriend, it felt good knowing he was jealous of another man to the point of wanting to kill for you. And maybe that made you just as crazy as him.

“Jake,” you softly moaned, forcing yourself to keep quiet.

Jake kisses your temple, “Moan my name louder, honey. Let our friend Jay over there know who you belong to, who is the only one that can make this pussy wet.” He bucked his hips harder, his skin slapping against your ass.

You moaned his name louder, making eye contact with Jay again.

“Fuck yes,” Jake smirks, “You’re so good for me.”

You clenched around him again, your climax fast approaching. Jake moans at how your walls hugged him, his arms wrapping around your body and holding you tightly to him as he fucked into you harder, fixing to burst, “Cum with me baby, oh fuck please cum with me.”

With his wishes, you both came together, him continuing to buck his hips slowly, mixing your cum together.

Jake leaned back against the wall, still holding you to his chest, smirking at Jay as he catches his breath, watching how his eyes go from your face and travel down to your cunt, watching the mixture of your and Jake’s cum leak from your hole.

You took deep breaths in, grabbing your skirt and pulling it down as far as you could, “Jae,”

Jake kissed your cheek, “Let’s go and meet up with Hoon now, ya?”

You nod, pulling him out and readjusting your panties and skirt as Jake fixes his jeans and then leaves the arcade with Jake’s chilling laughter echoing within the walls.

—

You sat at the edge of the bed, watching Jake sharpen his knife. He sat in the chair he usually kept his duffle bag and mask on, fully clothed in his Ghost Face attire, the mask resting at the top of his head. His brows furrowed in concentration, lifting the knife in front of his face and smirking at his work.

You wanted to ask him who he was planning on killing tonight, if it was someone you knew or a random person off the street. But you didn’t know if you actually wanted the answers to those questions, not knowing if Jake would even give you those answers. He glances at you then goes back to sharpening, “What are you thinking about?”

Shit. He caught you. You tried to find anything—literally anything—to come up with in a bullshit way to answer his question, your eyes falling onto the mask, “Why that mask specificity?” It was a real genuine question, you’ve always wondered it ever since the murders first started happening.

Jake smiles at you, “Why not this one?” he tosses the sharpening tool into his duffle, reaching up and sliding the mask down onto his face, “It’s scary, isn’t it?” You nodded but also shrugged. You weren’t scared of Jake, so seeing him fully in this outfit wasn’t affecting you. You couldn’t see, but he was grinning ear to ear underneath the mask, “It’s better with the voice mod,” he chuckles, flipping the switch on the voice changer, “It makes all the difference, doesn’t it, honey?”

Chills went down your back and you pressed your knees to your chest. The look on your face told Jake everything. He was right, it made a difference. If you didn’t know it was him beneath the mask you’d be terrified. His Aussie accent was no longer present and you couldn’t even tell it was his voice. No wonder his victims were always so scared.

Jake tilts his head at you, honestly getting hard at how scared you look. That look, that pretty and scared look on your face was what he wanted that night he tried to kill you. Oh, how time has passed since then. But he didn’t have time to reminisce about the past, he was running late for a killing date.

He stood from the chair, “You’re leaving already?”

Jake slides his gloves onto his hands, “Yes. I’ll be back soon.” You wouldn’t be able to get used to that ghost face voice.

You wanted him to stay home. It was the weekend and he BARELY spent the weekends with you. If he wasn’t off committing crimes, he was at soccer practice or with Sunghoon, or sticking himself in a study room at the library on campus to study. So you acted fast, not just in a way to stop him from ending someone else’s life, but to beg him to stay home.

“Jae,” you called his name, stepping in front of him, “Why don’t you stay home?”

He chuckles, adjusting the gloves and then flexing his fingers, “I have to go.” Jake was fucking crazy, he knew he was. He loved the thrill of the kill, the screams and blood and smells. It was intoxicating, almost like a drug.

Jake goes to step around you, but you keep blocking his path, “Stay home with me.”

He was getting irritated, “Move, honey, I am asking nicely.”

You shook your head, “Spend the weekend with me.”

Jake takes your chin between his fingers and pulls your face to the mask, “I won’t ask again, be a good girl and listen to me.”

You noticed he gripped the knife in his hand and could only imagine how pissed he must look underneath the mask. But you were desperate, wanting to find some way to keep him home, and what better way than to use your womanly charm? You pressed your breasts against his chest, knowing he could feel how braless you were under his favorite rock band tee shirt, “Please Jakey.”

He almost caved—almost—he slid his fingers from your chin down to your upper arm, ready to brush you out of his path, but your desperateness only pushed forward. You reached for the knife in the hope if you took it from him things would go your way and he’d stay home.

But you forgot for a solid second who it was you were dealing with.

You were now facing away from him, your back to his chest and knife pressed against your neck. Your eyes widened as you looked into the mirror in front of you. Seeing how his gloved hand pressed tightly to your stomach, how his head rested to the side of yours and his knife pressed to your throat. You swallowed, rubbing your thighs together.

“Ahh, it’s a sight to see isn’t it, honey? This is what you looked like the first time I held my knife to your pretty neck.” Jake was hard looking at you in the mirror with him pressed to you. It was one thing seeing you beneath him, but to see it in reflection? While he’s in his attire with the love of his life in front of him? It was even better than before.

“Is this what all your victims look like?” you whispered, placing your hands on his forearms, tilting your head back onto his shoulder, exposing more of your neck, “How it goes before you cut their throats open?”

Jake hums, “Yes, but seeing them like this never got me hard, not as you do.” He rubbed his clothed cock against your ass, “Fuck you get me so hard. I love the way my knife looks against your skin.”

You backed your ass against him, grinding on his cock, “Use it on me then.” what the fuck are you saying?

“Fuck don’t say things like that baby,” he tightened his grip on you, “Don’t say things like that to me.”

Jake would enjoy using his weapon on you, to cut you open and see how pretty you looked covered in blood, god it made his cock twitch. But he couldn’t do it, not at the risk of accidentally killing you. He loves you and can’t live without you. The risk wasn’t worth it.

You continued to rub against him, “Stay home with me.”

Fuck it.

He pushes you forward, forcing you to reach your hands out to lay flat against the mirror, your nose brushing against the cool glass, “You want me to stay home?” the voice mod hissed, his hand leaving your waist to pull the mask from his face, his eyes full of lust as they stared at you through the mirror. He tossed the mask to the bed, pressing his lips to your ear, “Want to be dicked down that badly?” you nod, the knife getting pressed tighter to your throat, “Use your fucking words.”

“Yes,” it came out in a loud moan, “I want you to stay home, to fuck me this whole weekend.”

“Hmmm,” he hummed, pulling you off the mirror and back against his chest, “Let’s rid you of your clothes, yeah?”

Jake traced the tip of the knife down your throat and to the edge of his favorite band shirt, not giving a single damn that he cut into the fabric, slicing a line down to the middle, then using his hands to tear it apart, revealing your bare upper half, sliding the torn shirt to the floor.

The leather of his glove tickled when he placed his hand back to your waist, tracing the knife from your belly button up, moving it underneath your breasts, and circling them, slowly and carefully grazing your nipples. It made your core clench and the hair on your skin rise. Oh how badly he wanted to cut your skin, even if just a tiny bit, just to scratch that itch he’s been craving since day one. Deciding he was just going to do it.

But he was going to fuck you first.

Jake didn’t waste any more time and pulled your shorts and panties off your body and pressed you back against the mirror, ridding himself of his suit and other clothing, leaving you both bare, skin-to-skin.

Jake kicked your legs apart, a string of your slick connected both ends of your thighs, showing off how wet you already were for him. Jake licked his lips, scooping up your juices with two fingers and placing them into his mouth, wrapping his tongue around his digits. His body shuddered at your taste, cock twitching, needing to feel you.

He lifted your hips up, and slid inside you with ease, not being able to wait, and fucked into you. Pressing his hand down on your lower belly, feeling his thick length push in and out of your cunt, “Oh, fuck,” he moans, throwing his head back and fucking his hips harder. He was more sensitive right now, not knowing why or even really caring why. He doesn’t even care if he cums first, because he’s going to spend this entire night fucking you. Making you cum over and over and making him cum over and over. He’s going to spend the whole weekend with his cock buried inside you. Who gives a fuck about the people he could be killing when he can be balls deep in your pussy.

He pressed his hand against you harder, feeling more of himself move against your walls and squeezing tighter around him, “Baby, I’m gonna cum soon,” he flings his head forward, leaning it against yours as he looked at you in the mirror, seeing your fucked out expression, pupils blown out and mouth open and moaning out with each thrust he gave you, his knife sitting pretty against your neck, “Fuckkkkkk,” he moans, “I can’t hold it in.”

One final thrust and his cum painted your gummy walls white. Jake kissed your cheek, gently sliding the knife from your throat, down your shoulder, and stopping halfway on your upper arm. His hooded eyes lock with yours, asking for permission, but before you can even give it to him, he presses the metal into your skin, the crimson liquid slowly oozing from your body.

Jake bit his lips, slowly pulling his cock out to the tip, and ramming it back inside you, already ready for round two.

You were moaning louder this time, chanting out his name as your fingers gripped the mirror, feeling your blood streaming down your arm and onto the floor.

“Goddamn,” he hissed, cutting another wound below the first one, not being able to control himself, “You look so pretty bleeding out for me.”

Your brain went dizzy and you weren’t sure if it was from the loss of blood or from how good Jake was fucking you. It was probably both.

You released one hand from the mirror and cupped it to your arm, trying to stop what you could from it staining the carpet. But Jake’s thrusts were unrelenting, working faster than before and hitting your g-spot. The knot threatened to snap and it made you dizzier, almost losing your balance, forcing you to place your now bloody hand on the glass, leaving bloodied handprints.

“Jae,” you moaned his name, “Fixing to cum.”

Jake bit your ear softly, “Cum for me, honey.”

The pleasure of your release formed goosebumps on your skin, mixing with Jake’s previous cum.

You don’t know what came over you in the second, but you felt powerful. You had your boyfriend a cumming mess within minutes of him being inside you. You got him to stay home, to be with you. You were in control right now. You’ve taken over in the mind games.

You pushed yourself off from the mirror, forcing Jake out of your hole and stumbling back. You were quick to whip around, your hands finding home on his chest and pushing him to the bed, forcing him to sit on the edge as you climbed into his lap, sliding your cunt back down onto him.

Jake was in heaven, feeling pure bliss as how quickly you dominated over him. He was a turn on, for sure, but he wouldn’t let you catch him off guard like that again, accepting your win.

Jake was even more surprised to feel your bloodied hand gripping his jaw and his knife in your other hand being pressed to his throat. How did you get it out of his hand? And when did you do it?

You smirked down at him, “What’s wrong Jaeyun?”

Oh, FUCK.

Jake’s hands found their home on your waist, pulling at you to start moving, “Ride my cock and maybe I’ll tell you.”

You leaned closer to him, pressing the knife closer like how he’s done to you. His cock twitched, begging to be ridden. You click your tongue, “Does it turn on the killer to see his girlfriend turn his weapon against him? To have you like fucking putty in my hands?”

He didn’t understand how this happened, but god was he relishing in it.

Jake could easily turn the tides. Could flip you over and take the knife back and fuck you senseless. But he was enjoying this too much, letting you think you still had full control.

“Baby,” he whispered, lifting up and placing a kiss on your lips, “Please ride my cock, I need to feel you.”

You honestly loved seeing your little killer beg for your sex, it was a power move and boosted your ego. You rocked your hips, taking the point of the knife and pressing it up to the bottom of his chin. This was exciting, no wonder he enjoyed knife play with you.

But alas, your power move eventually faded as you lost yourself on his cock, the knife was now tossed somewhere in the room. One of his arms was wrapped around your waist, and the other behind him to keep balance as he fucked his hips up into you at the same motion of you fucking on him. Your bloody hand prints now covered him: his face, shoulder, neck, chest, all over his back and bicep. Everywhere. The wounds on your arm finally clotted and crusted over, no longer spilling.

You came again and then Jake a few seconds after you. But he wasn’t done with you yet, picking you up in his strong arms and carrying you further onto the bed, laying your head on the pillows and placing your legs over his shoulders, “I love you.”

You cupped his face, “I love you too.”

Jake was true to his word when he swore he’d fuck you until you both came over and over and over again until the overstimulation was too much, cumming once more, then falling asleep in each other's arms.

You woke up that next morning with bandages on your arm and in fresh clean clothes. The bedsheets were stripped from the bed and a blanket was covering you. The blood from the mirror was now gone, and Jake was on the floor at the end of the bed doing what it looked like scrubbing your strained blood out of the carpet. You smiled, quickly closing your eyes and falling back to sleep, never in your life have you felt so safe in the presence of a serial killer.

—

You winced in pain as you dropped yourself onto the couch, your legs completely sore.

Jake chuckles from the kitchen as he prepares lunch for you both, “You okay in there, my love?” You peek over the couch, glaring at him, “Don’t look at me like that,” he says sweetly, “You’re the one who wanted me to fuck you until you couldn’t walk the entire weekend.”

Jake stayed true to absolutely destroying your cunt the entire weekend. Man has some STAMINA, that’s for sure. Any chance he got, he was balls deep inside you. You just tried to enjoy a nice warm shower, was halfway through when Jake pulls the curtains back and stepped in, immediately pinning you against the wall and fucking you until you couldn’t stand. You couldn’t complain though, you got him the entire weekend to yourself.

The only thing that sucked was going back to classes tomorrow, meaning you’d have to share him again with everyone.

“I didn’t think you’d actually make it where I could barely walk.”

Jake just smiles, “What can I say, I love my girl weak in the knees for me.”

You made a fake laugh at his joke but still smiled brightly. You reached for the remote and turned the TV on, flipping through channels until a quick scene of the news was on, catching your attention and forcing you to go back.

“Yesterday evening, two bodies were found near a dumpster on the south side of the campus—“

“Jake,” you called for him, “Come in here.”

Jake stood behind you, leaning his body against the back of the couch, “What’s up?”

You point to the TV, “The two bodies have been identified as a young couple, we were last seen walking the campus, heading to the dorms—“The camera pans to the crime scene, their dead bodies being covered up by white tarps and police and investigators surrounding the area, one of the policemen pulling something out of the dumpster, your breath hitched “—a ghost face mask has been found at the scene of the crime—“

You whip around to look at Jake, “What the fuck Jake?!” but as soon as you yelled at him, you realized the look on his face.

He was livid.

“I’ve been with you the entire fucking weekend,” he snapped, “I didn’t do this.”

You faced back to the TV, watching the rest of the news coverage, “If it wasn’t you, then who did it?”

Jake pushed himself from the couch, ruffling his hands in his hair, pacing back and forth, “I don’t fucking know, but whoever they are, they are a fucking imposter!”

Jake was angry for more than one reason:

1: Whoever the fuck this person is, they fucked up so hard by leaving their mask at the scene. 2: They were trying to impersonate him. 3: WHY THE FUCK ARE THEY IMPERSONATING HIM?!

You stared at the TV screen, trying to process everything. Jake noticed it, how quiet you were, getting scared you were doubting him. So he rushed to you, kneeling before you and taking your face in his hands, “Honey. I promise you it wasn’t me. I’ve been here with you the whole weekend.”

You nodded. You knew he was here with you. He didn’t leave your side because he was too busy burning his cock in you. It just didn’t make sense. The last Ghost Face killing was about two weeks ago the same night Jake fucked you in the arcade. It was some random guy Jake happened to pass on a late-night walk to clear his head to not go back to the arcade and kill Jay. Jake has been clean since then.

Jake looked back to the TV, gritting his teeth, “I swear to—“ then his phone started ringing. The vibrations made his skin crawl.

He pulled his phone from his pocket, seeing Unknown Caller on the screen.

Jake looked up at you, and it was the first time you saw a small hint of fear in his eyes.

He accepted the call, placing the device to his ear.

“Hello, Jake.”

His eyes widened, hearing the voice changer nod that he uses on the other side of his call, “Who the fuck is this?”

“Hahaha, you don’t seem surprised that I know your secret?”

Jake stood up, quickly glancing around the room, “Why would I be? You’re playing the exact same game I do.”

Whoever this was, they knew Jake’s secret. Studied him. Knows how he kills and even the exact mask brand he wears. If this person was playing Jake’s game, then being in this apartment was no longer safe. Because they were already watching, already listening.

They laughed again, “Did you like the news? I did it special, just for you.”

“Go to hell!” Jake barked.

“Oh, but I’d see you there,” they chuckled, “I very much rather just send you there.”

Jake was tired of these games, “What do you want?” he clenched his fist, “You wanna be the sequel so damn bad don’t you?”

Silence, but then, “What do you think it is I want?”

“To be a shitty ass ghost face, but news flash, you’re already doing that.”

“I’d watch your tone, Jake Sim. It’d be a shame for something to happen to our precious little YN / YLN, wouldn’t it?” Jake’s heart stopped, “Check your texts.”

Jake removed the phone from his ear, clicking on the newly received texts. The first one was a photo of you at the college in the journal room looking over the corkboard. The second text was a video of you from the bedroom, the curtains were slightly drawn back and you were lifting your shirt off your body, revealing yourself in a black laced bra, and then the video cut off. The third and final text that came through, was a photo of both Jake and you on the couch yesterday morning, both naked as you rode his dick.

He pressed the phone back to his ear, “I swear to fucking god if you touch her.”

More laughter, “Maybe you should keep her closer and double check to make sure all windows are closed next time if you don’t want others seeing your…activities.”

Jake pulled you off from the couch, holding you close to him and repeating, “What. The. Fuck. Do. You. Want.”

They clicked their tongue, “You’ll know soon enough. Goodbye, Ghost Face.” Then the line went dead.

Jake tossed his phone across the room, pulling you to his chest tightly, teeth gritting.

“I’m going to fucking kill whoever that is, and I won’t let them hurt you.”

For the first time, you were genuinely scared. And so was Jake. He wasn’t scared of this imposter, he was scared of what they’d do to you.

And he won’t stop at nothing until they are six feet under.

— perm taglist: @alvojake @ikeuverse @woniebae @shawnyle @kangnina @jwnghyuns @in-somnias-world @zyvlxqht @aaa-sia @wonniethepoo @addictedtohobi @eneiyri @sparklovespink @skzenhalove @fakeuwus @cherry-park @vousty @ladyartemesia @psh9 @cmoundiamante @enhaverse713586 @wondipity @lhsvibez

#jake bby #jake sim #sim jake #jaeyun sim #sim jake x reader #reader x sim jake #sim jaeyun x reader #sim jake smut #enhypen #enhypen x reader #reader x enhypen #enhypen fanfic #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen smut #yeonzzzn writing #ghostface!jake #ghostface au

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urlonelystarrr · 6 months

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𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒚 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒓𝒚

ghostface x reader

GENRE → horror, smut.

SYNOPSIS → you're his killing partner. after nearly messing up while out on a nightly kill, ghostface decides that you're in need of a punishment.

TAGS/WARNINGS → dom! ghostface, creampie, rough sex, slapping, choking, degrading, manhandling, overstimulation, angry sex, no particular ghostface implied, spitting, oral!giving, fingering, knife play, mouth fucking, belt whipping, edging, kinda cnc

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you were on all fours, silently cleaning up the mess you had made. ghostface leaned against a wall, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched you clean. your head hung low in shame, as you wiped up the blood on the ground. he hadn't said a word, and you were fucking terrified.

you grabbed a mop, mopping up the floor in a quick hurry - eager to leave the victims house. the body was all taken care of for now, wrapped up like a present in garbage bags and duct tape. the sudden sound of wood creaking drew your attention over to him, as he took slow steps towards you. "why'd you hesitate?" his voice was deep, in control. he wasn't asking to know, he was demanding. "i don't- i don't know." why'd you say that? why couldn't you just tell him that you felt nervous that you had someone watching you? it seemed your mind had gone blank, the response you'd been thinking of suddenly vanishing into the tension filled room.

"you don't know?" he took a step closer, scoffing. you stopped mopping for a second, your hands holding onto the handle for dear life. "i just got...nervous while you were watching me." you looked at the floor, not being able to look at him. "aw, you got nervous?" he mocked you, before shoving you up against a wall. he held you by your throat, the mop dropping out of your hands and smacking against the floor. "if you can't handle me watching you kill someone, how the fuck am i supposed to trust you to do this on your own? am i your babysitter?" he sneered, his grip tightening momentarily. you shook your head, your hands coming up to hold his wrist. he slapped them away, pushing you into the wall harder. "you can't even handle me, how are you gonna face someone else who's bigger than you?" he looked you up and down, his tone dripping in disdain. "you can barely tell the difference between left and right." your brows furrowed, your frustration only growing at his words. "i killed him, didn't i?" you could sense it, the disapproval of your back talk. you didn't need to see his face to tell he was frowning. "you know damn well that's not what i'm talking about. i'm talking about how you couldn't handle your victim. if i wasn't there, he'd overpower you, and you'd be the one bleeding out. if i'm gonna have to save your ass everytime we go out and do this, im gonna take you out to the middle of nowhere and slit your throat open." he let go of your neck, leaving you gasping quietly for air. you held your own neck, the skin burning from his touch.

he walked away, moving to pick up the body on the floor. you watched as he effortlessly picked up the body, tossing it over his shoulder as if 195 weighed nothing. you swallowed, watching as he walked out the door. he paused in the doorway, turning around to look at you. "get a shovel and help me out. don't make me wait."

you were quick to move, following him outside and grabbing a shovel. he loaded the car, shoving the body inside the trunk while you placed the shovel in as well. the two of you drove in silence, and you sat in the passenger seat, anxiously waiting.

the moment you two were done, you could tell you were in a lot of trouble. judging by the way he slammed the trunk and doors - you knew you couldn't get out of this. he made you stay with him, as he couldn't risk having you out of his sight. you took off your mask, glancing over at him as he kept his on. he turned to you suddenly, titling his head. "the fuck are you looking at?" he took a few steps towards you, his presence looming and authoritative. he held your face hard, his fingers digging into your skin. your brows furrowed, and you winced from how hard he was being. "stop acting all innocent...like you almost didn't fuck up tonight. i could kill you, right fucking now, and nobody would know." he looked into your eyes, smirking under the mask as he saw them tear up. "aw, don't tell me you're gonna cry now because i yelled at you. you're so fuckin' sensitive," he rolled his eyes, letting go of your face.

"you wanna cry? fine, i'll give you a reason to." without warning, he grabbed you by your hair, dragging you to his room. you yelped as he threw you onto his bed, forcing you into laying flat on your stomach. before you could even get up, he was on top of you, his hand on your back, holding you down. "wha- what are you doing?!" your face was pressed into the mattress, your eyes squeezing shut as he held your head down. you couldn't see much, but you could hear the sound of him taking his belt off. you started squirming, but he placed his knee on the back of your legs, immediately stopping you. "don't you move." he warned, taking his belt and whipping your ass with it. the leather came down hard, making you grip the sheets, your knuckles turning white. you yelled, trying to move, but he only made it harder for you, using his body weight and strength to pin you down.

he leaned down, the belt still in hand. "i could do a lot worse to you, you know that right? the things i'd do to you, you might not even recover from." he chuckled darkly, slapping the back of your thighs with the belt. you still had your robe on, you didn't even have time to change. your body trembled from the pain, your skin stinging as you cried into the mattress silently, your fingers clutching the sheets. he noticed your whimpering, and slapped your ass with his hand. raising a brow in slight amusement, and something more when he felt your ass jiggle under his palm.

somehow, it hurt more than the belt. your body jolted, your cries becoming more apparent. he pulled your head back by your hair, leaning next to your ear. his body was on top of yours, and you could feel his crotch right against your ass as he straddled you from behind. "you're crying already?" he mocked sympathy, "you think i'll be less mean if you cry? what a baby. your tears mean nothing to me. cry all you want, it won't make me any less harder." you sniffled, wanting to wipe the tears from your eyes so badly. you didn't know what to say, but you figured it would be best if you stayed quiet.

the weight was lifted off of you, and you slowly rolled back over to sit up, thinking your punishment was over. oh, how wrong you were. you saw his belt laid next to you, and his robe was opened enough to reveal his black jeans unbuttoned and unzipped. you swallowed nervously as you looked at him stand there, his heavy footsteps making the wood on the floor creak under his weight. he stood in front of you, looking down at you, before slapping you across the face - hard. you held your cheek, your eyes watering from the impact. he spoke with disdain, crossing his arms as he looked down at you. he appeared bigger, taller, and stronger than you could ever be. "you look like a fuckin mess," he paused, looking at your face. "i didn't know you wore makeup - it's all runny," he spoke like he was disgusted. "though, i knew you always liked attention." his words made you angry, they made you want to bite back. but you knew where that'd get you. his thumb pressed against your bottom lip, and he forced his gloved finger inside your mouth, the pad of his finger pressing down on your tongue. he seemed pleased by how wet your mouth was, and he started to reach down to his pants. you swallowed, pleading for him. "oh my god, please don't," you whimpered. "why? you gonna cry again?" he taunted, pulling his pants down enough for you to see his black boxers. "i've heard people plead for me to not take their life, and somehow you sound more pathetic than they do," he said with amusement. he pulled out his hardened cock, just seeing you in pain and crying made him hard. this fucker- he was big. he didn't need for you to say it, he knew already. his pink tip tapped at your lips, and he forced you to open your mouth by stepping on your foot, making you gasp in pain.

he shoved his cock inside, letting out a hiss of pleasure as he felt his cock be engulfed by your mouth. he rocked gently, letting your tongue coat his cock in your saliva before commanding you to suck. "suck it. no wonder guys don't fuck you, you're terrible at this," he replied as you didn't move an inch, and you fought off the urge to bite. you decided to give in, as pleasing him would only make things better for you. slowly, you started to suck. he watched as you took your time, displeased with how slow you were, he rolled his eyes, growing bored. he pulled his cock out, grabbing your hair and forcing you to look up at him. "you gonna stop fucking around or do i need to smack the shit out of you again?"

his tone was threatening, making you swallow and take his cock back in your mouth. without using your hands, you slowly took it inch by inch, your tongue wrapping around the tip. you sucked on it generously, tracing his veins with your tongue. he tilted his head back, quietly panting. he groaned, looking down at you again, before taking your hair in a fist, and thrusting into your mouth. your eyes teared up from the pressure, looking up at him as he fucked your mouth relentlessly. his breathing was heavy, gasps shuddering as his cock grazed your tongue, the way your lips sucked on his tip made him crazy. it didn't take long for him to finish, for him to fill up your mouth with cum. "swallow it." he held you by your cheeks, fingertips burning into your skin. you obeyed, swallowing it.

he seemed impressed by how you didn't gag, but he wasn't gonna tell you that. you were slightly relieved when he pulled his pants back up, and when he left the room. you wiped your mouth, hating yourself for enjoying it.

you were confused, he hadn't said anything at all in the past hour. you got up from your room, leaving to take a shower. you stood underneath the water, deciding to pamper yourself after what happened. you shaved, used a body scrub, and your favorite body wash. you swore that you heard the door open, but you felt that it was just your paranoia of being in punishment that made you believe that.

you ended up finishing quickly, but you were quick to notice the missing thong from your pile of clothes. you exited the bathroom, going into your room to change. you felt that pampering yourself might make you feel less worse about this whole 'punishment.' you felt slightly disgusted, how many people did he do this do? you rubbed lotion on your arms and legs, jumping when the door handle started to move.

you were barely clothed, just a pair of grey shorts and a little black tank top. he entered your room, looking pissed off again. "you're a bitch, you know that?" he came closer. "making me feel like a fuckin' teenager in heat. you know how many bitches i fucked trying to get you off my mind?" you paused, completely taken aback.

"you're just some dumb bitch i've gotta babysit while we kill people together." his hand runs up your neck, the leather from his gloves caressing your soft skin. your brows furrowed, and you could tell he was smirking under the mask. "dumb girls like you don't even cross my mind a second time after i've came." you looked away, shame and embarrassment burning your cheeks after what had happened. you felt used - like some toy for him to get off on. "if you're feeling used, it's because you are. you fuckin' suck at killing," he paused, his hand sliding up the back of your neck - taking your hair and wrapping it around his hand, "maybe these hands are better for this." his unoccupied hand took your wrist, and he placed it on his crotch. you could feel him hardening under your palm, and you swallowed nervously.

he looked down at you, fighting the urge to smile at how pretty you were. "you're pretty when you cry," he chuckled darkly. "maybe I should make you cry more often, you look so good." you didn't know how to feel, he was being so cruel but so nice at the same time. you couldn't lie, you were eating up whatever compliments he gave - since they didn't come often.

but, his good mood disappeared as quick as it came, and before you know it you were shoved down onto your bed. his hands pinned your wrists down, and he was quick to straddle you. you fought against him, but it only ended up with you getting slapped. he didn't say a word, his hands already abandoning your wrists to travel up your top. you gasped softly as he gently pushed your top up, a finger tracing your abdomen. "look at you, barely fuckin' clothed. it's like you want my attention," he laughed cruelly. he reached behind him, pulling out his hunting knife. he dragged the tip up your stomach, the faintest mark appearing on the soft skin. he watched how your skin dented under the knife's weight, his lips pulling up into a twisted grin that nobody could see.

he ran it up your body, cutting your top open. the knife laid against your neck, and you swallowed thickly. you laid still, as if breathing would get you killed. his hand came down and squeezed your boob, and he leaned down next to your ear. "i usually don't give girls attention like this, but you're different." he sighed in frustration, "you gotta boyfriend?"

"no," you cleared your throat. "it wouldn't matter anyway, id kill him just to have you for myself." he chuckled, his hand running down your stomach to press against your clothed pussy. you jolted underneath his body, squirming slightly. "don't move, girl." you could tell he was looking you up and down, "i'm gonna make this pussy mine." you tried to move again, but he held you by your throat, his thumb digging into your neck. you gasped, and his hand went down your shorts. you shuddered when you felt his finger run down your pussy, his gloved fingertip sliding in between your lips. he watched your brows furrow, and your lips part slightly to let out soft gasps.

you didn't know how to feel. were you angry that he was treating you like this? speaking to you like you were below him? all of that faded as you felt his finger circle your clit. a sharp gasp exiting your mouth, your back slightly arching on its own. you felt him press you into the mattress, his strong arm holding you in place. "that's it, good girl." he murmured, watching as you moved your hips like some bitch in heat. he removed his finger, his hand disappearing under his mask as he tasted you on his fingers. you opened your eyes and looked at him as he tasted you. you couldn't tell what he was thinking.

his legs were spread as he straddled you, but he got off of you, and stood by the edge of your bed. he yanked you to the edge by your ankles, until your lower half slightly tipped over the edge. he pushed your legs up to your chest, a hand under your knees as he traced your clothed pussy with his finger. his breathing had become heavier, and he practically tore your shorts off you. he moved his mask slightly, just to spit in your mouth. he forced it open, dragging his ring and middle finger along your tongue. when he pulled your thong to the side, his eyes glimmered in amusement at how wet you were already. "didn't even need to use spit," he chuckled. "suck it off." his fingers returned to your mouth, and you sucked his spit off of them.

he couldn't wait, he was hard the moment he stepped into your room, and saw how your shorts hugged the fat of your ass. he pressed himself against your wet pussy. the front of his jeans were dampened, and he groaned feeling you pressed against him. in a quick motion, he unbuttoned his jeans. "spread that pussy for me," he ordered. your hands came around your thighs, spreading open your pussy for him. he ran a finger in between your folds, your mouth parting to let out soft pants. he circled your clit slowly, before teasing your hole with the tip of his finger. he leaned down, his ring finger poking at your hole while his thumb caressed your clit. "you're dripping," he sneered. he felt pride knowing you were so wet because of him, and something darker gleamed in his eyes as he heard your soft whines and the sounds of you sucking in a breath. he slowly sunk his ring and middle finger in your hole, watching as you tipped your head back. a soft whine left your mouth, and he picked up his pace seeing your reaction. "come on," he encouraged, "show me how good this pussy is." upon hearing that, your pussy clamped around his fingers, and he looked at you with amusement.

he curled his fingers, making you arch your back. his pace quickened on your clit, and you swore you were going to cum, when he suddenly pulled out. you opened your eyes, shocked to see him laughing. "oh baby, you're not gonna get to cum so quickly." he stood up to his full height, taking his pants off and pulling them down. he pulled out his cock, rubbing the tip in between your folds. you looked at him, brows furrowed as he teased you. "you're still being punished, remember?" he taunted, leaning down to choke you again. you held onto his wrist, and this time he let you. "please," you whined. "please what?" he tilted his head, looking down at you.

"please, put it in. i-i can't.." you squirmed, trying to gain some friction. but instead, he pushed your hips down into the mattress, his voice quickly turning menacing. "stop moving, girl." he warned, his cock resting heavy on your pussy. he tapped his tip against your clit, rubbing it up and down before teasing the tip in. your painted toes curled with anticipation, as you let out a soft gasp as he stuck it in. but he quickly pulled out, leaving you with an empty feeling. just as you were about to protest, he stuck it in quickly, instantly filling you up. you let out a groan, your back arching again as he stood still. "relax, i haven't even done anything yet." he said with contempt, but it was amusing how turned on you were by this. "do you not get dick often? that would explain it," he smirked, loving the look of frustration on your face.

he started to rock his hips, fucking you at a painfully slow pace. but you knew not to disobey, even though you just wanted to move against him. he held open your legs, watching as his cock disappeared inside your pussy, how you sucked him in so fucking good that his eyes rolled back. your breathing was shaky as you tried to handle his slow pace, and to make it worse he added a finger to your clit, rubbing it in all the right places. he loved how your mouth hung slightly open, your brows furrowing as you looked as his cock inside you. your eyes trailed over his body, the distinct v line fading into the carved muscles of his upper half. he noticed you looking, and lifted his robe up to expose more of his stomach, while rolling his hips into yours.

a sharp gasp left your throat, as he started to pick up his pace. he pounded into you harder, yet his pace was still slow. he enjoyed watching you nearly cum all over his cock, and pulled out just before as you were about to. "do you wanna cum?" he taunted, leaning next to your ear while he pounded into you. you couldn't help the gasps and moans that left your mouth, "yes, please let me cum, please.." you begged, your legs sore from holding them up for so long. he suddenly pulled out again, forcing you onto your hands and knees. "I'll make you scream, baby. " he pulled your hips towards him, slapping your ass until it left a mark. he stuck his cock back in, pulling it back out and watching as your hole stayed in the same shape he stretched it. "I'm gonna make this pussy cum," he groaned, fucking into you sloppily. his abdomen was pressed into the fat of your ass, and you could hear the heavy breaths that left his mouth as he pounded into your pussy. his fingers returned to your clit, sloppily rubbing it until your pussy was clenching around his cock.

"be a good girl n' cum for me, show me how much you like this dick bitch." your knuckles were gripping the sheets, your toes curling and your eyes rolling back as he fucked you into oblivion, the side of your face pressed into the mattress as he buried his cock deep inside you, his fingers rubbing at your clit until you were a moaning mess. you swore you've never came so fucking hard - after nearly three times of him almost coaxing it out of you. "oh my god," you tried to move away, a scream leaving your throat as you felt him fuck you past your orgasm. you could feel him filling up your pussy with his cum, and he let out a deep groan, leaning against your body for support. your body collapsed, as you let out heavy pants. your eyes opened in shock when you felt yourself being lifted up, and he slammed you into the nearest wall, pounding into your pussy as if the two of your bodies weren't aching.

you couldn't remember how many times you came. he ran a finger up your pussy, practically fucking his own cum out of you. he pulled out his cum coated cock, and stuck it in your mouth. you licked him up, savoring the taste of him. "you freak bitch," he chuckled darkly, holding the side of your face. you sat on the edge of your bed, putting your clothes on while he pulled his pants up and left. you figured that he'd be the type to do that, and you decided it was time for another shower. but you could only imagine the surprise when you came back to your room, and saw him laying in the bed. he pat the space next to him, and as soon as you laid down he pulled you close to him.

"sleep with me," he moved up his mask slightly to kiss your neck (which you couldn't see since you were the little spoon.) you hummed in acknowledgement, laying comfortably in his strong arms. his fingers caressed the soft curve on your side, prompting you to fall asleep.

after that encounter, things had gotten strange. the girls that he'd fucked before you went missing. that or they were brutally murdered. when he heard shuffling around in the kitchen, he rose from his bed with a hunting knife tucked into his pants. "what the fuck?" he muttered, seeing you bloodied. "killing spree?" he let go of his knife, leaning against the wall. you came up to him, lifting up the bottom of his mask just enough where his neck was exposed. you started to kiss the skin, sucking on all the right spots. his hand rested on the small of your back, unsure of what caused the sudden affection - not that he was complaining. then you said something that made him shudder, "this dick belongs to me." oh fuck, he was losing his control. your hand ran down his stomach and groped his cock, eliciting a deep groan from him. "I don't belong to anyone," he panted, knowing you'd get angry. "tell that to them." you looked into his eyes, and his face fell as he connected the dots. but he wasn't afraid of what you were capable of - in fact, he found his perfect match.

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authors note: since halloween is coming, I decided I should throw in another ghostface fic cause he's so fucking hot likeee...

#reader insert #fanfic #scream smut #scream #ghostface x y/n #ghostface smut #ghostface x reader #ghostface #ghostface x you #scream series #horror #horror smut #slasher smut #slashers #slasher x reader #slasher x you #slasher x y/n #slasher x slasher

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munsons-curls · 1 year

Text

Black Dahlias

Pairing: Ghostface!Eddie Munson x F! Reader (18+)

Contains: 18+!! Heavy, graphic smut. Rough, unprotected sex, dirty talk, oral sex (M/F receiving), praise kink, slight degradation, breeding kink if you squint, possessive!eddie, mean!eddie, slight innocence kink. Minor ghostface!steve. CANON DIVERGENT.

Trigger warnings: DUBCON, knife play, stalking, panty theft, drinking and drug consumption, emetophobia, allusions to sexual assault and child abuse, graphic depictions of murder, violence and gore. <-PLEASE HEED THESE TRIGGER WARNINGS!!!!

A/N: happy All Hallows’ Eve!! 🎃 thank you so so so much to T @hotchs-bitch for leaving me 112 comments on this Google doc despite having her own 17k word WIP. I love u.

Somebody’s watching you.

Your eyes dart around the open courtyard, scanning the area for anything, anybody that stands out, but the unease rolling in your stomach dissipates as quickly as it arrives.

In the distance, you spot a tall figure lighting a cigarette under the awning of the drama block. His dark, curly hair sits at his leather and denim clad shoulders, ringed fingers bringing a cigarette to his mouth. He’s initially a cutting figure, intimidating and looming but you find yourself drawn to him in a magnetic way.

You meet his eyes briefly, your attention ripped away when a girl with short, dirty blonde hair rushes past you, splashing you with her converse. She windmills to a stop and begins apologising profusely, running back to you.

“Holy shit. Holy fucking shit, I’m so sorry.” She rasps. “I totally didn’t even see that stupid puddle and now you’re soaking!”

“No harm done.” You smile, downcast. ��I was already wet.”

She looks you up and down, her eyes widening at you soaking through your clothes. “I’m so sorry. Do you have, like. A ride or something? How long have you been waiting here?”

“Since class let out. I’m just waiting for the rain to clear to walk home.” You smile.

“Okay. Forget it. C’mon. You’re coming with me.” You’re being dragged away by a well-meaning hand before you can protest, leading you to a dark red BMW. “C’mon!” She insists when you drag your heels, pulling you down the hilly path to the car.

You curiously look back for the figure in the distance, but he’s gone by the time you manage to pull free of your new friend.

“I’m Robin. And that head of hair you see is Steve.” She says, motioning to the driver in a green uniform vest.

You greet Steve quickly and he mock-salutes you with two fingers, offering you a tight smile as Robin ferries you into the back of the car, quickly taking her place in the passenger side. She shakes out her hair, water droplets splattering Steve.

He squirms and wipes his face before starting the car. “I’ve been waiting here for ten minutes, Robin. I’ve told you—if you want rides from me, the least you can do is be on time.”

Evidently, Robin bringing in strays isn’t new to Steve, he doesn’t seem at all irritated by an unknown girl dripping rainwater in the back of his BMW. He’s more irritated by the wait.

“Vickie needed help with a special project! Besides, class actually let out fifteen minutes ago, so technically we’re both late.”

You stifle a laugh in the backseat, and your driver’s eyes flit up to yours through the rear view mirror. “Who’s your friend?”

“That. Is actually a great question.” She muses. “We just met and I couldn’t stand to leave her out in the rain. I didn’t get your name.” She turns around to face you. “Did I?”

She seems harmless enough, a little frazzled and chaotic, but rumours about this town put you on edge. The cult-like unsolved murder of Chrissy Cunningham two months ago still sits like a layer of smog over the town, a simultaneous refusal of the townspeople to acknowledge it—or let it go.

You know the guy accused was cleared. How or why—you’re not privy to yet.

You will be soon enough.

You smile and tell Robin your name.

“Are you new to town? I don’t think I’ve seen you around.” Steve asks.

“Yeah, my dad took a job at that new state lab, so I transferred in.”

“I see. And where am I taking you lovely ladies today?”

Robin’s face crinkles and she rolls her eyes, a silent plea to ignore her friend and his overt-chivalry. “Do you have the video for Nance’s?” Steve nods. “Then we can go straight there.”

Your brows furrow. “I’m sorry. Where are we going?”

“Our friend Nancy hosts a movie marathon every Friday with a few other friends of ours.” She adds proudly, “Courtesy of Steve and I — we work at Family Video, over at the strip mall on Franklin and Marsh.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah. You’re gonna love it, it’s great!”

“Oh, no. No, I really appreciate the offer, but I wouldn’t want to intrude, I don’t think your friend would be too happy about somebody just, y’know. Waltzing in.” You chuckle.

“Oh, trust me. You don’t know Nancy. She loves playing hostess, and she’ll love you. Don’t worry.” Robin reassures you, pulling down her visor mirror.

Steve hums, agreeing with Robin. “She’s right. Half of Hawkins practically has a key to the Wheeler’s. Just, y’know. Don’t tell Ted.”

You smile awkwardly, settling in a little better in the backseat. You don’t interject in the conversation much, Robin thankfully takes care of that for you as she rambles to Steve about Vickie and her new boyfriend.

You’re content to let the heaters warm your skin, and to watch the rows of houses go by, cautiously relieved at the possibility of some new friends after two months of loneliness.

At the Wheeler’s, you introduce yourself politely to Mrs Wheeler, offering a smile to the distracted man in front of the TV. Steve looks at you, mouths, “Ted.” And you nod in understanding, suppressing a laugh.

Mrs Wheeler hands you a warm towel and ushers the three of you down into the basement.

“Nothing too scary.” She says pointedly, looking at Steve. “If I have to sleep in the same bed as my twelve year old son again, there will be hell to pay, Steven.”

“Yes, ma’am. I promise. Nothing too scary.”

You follow Robin and Steve down into the basement; cozily decorated with throw blankets, cushy rugs, a sofa and a loveseat bracketing a TV on the far edge. Sconces and low lamps light the space, illuminating the group huddled in front of the TV.

“Who’s ready for Halloween II?” Steve exclaims, fishing out a VHS from under his windbreaker.

“Ah, so he lives!” Says a theatric, but deep voice behind you. “You’re twenty minutes late, Harrington.”

You let the voice wash over you before you turn around. Your breath hitches when you match the voice to the same figure who was lighting a cigarette under the gym awning just a little while ago.

You study him now, up close. Shoulder length, curly hair, sharp bone structure. High cheekbones and an angular jawline, a strong neck, full, red lips and most disarmingly, big, brown eyes. He’s intense up close, but it’s not an intensity you necessarily have a desire to run from.

His brow raises at your inquisitive gaze—you’ve been staring. “This one of your strays, Harrington? Or is this Buck’s doing?”

Steve gestures vaguely before walking away, leaving Robin—Buck—to make your introduction before joining Steve too. You pull your towel closer to your body, goosebumps erupting on your skin under an intense gaze.

He extends a large hand, chain link bracelet falling around his wrist. “Hey. Eddie.”

You take his hand, warm and large, in yours, letting his fingers wrap around the back of your palm firmly. Your voice is hoarse when you tell him your name and he laughs. A throaty sound that emanates from his chest, a grin taking over his face.

He has dimples.

“Yeah, I know.”

Your heart skids to a stop. “You do?”

“Yeah? Buck just told me.” He replies, looking at you quizzically. He wraps his hands around your upper arms, manoeuvring you so he can slide past, his chest pressing against your back. His leathery, piney scent drifts to your nose. “You comin’?”

You nod meekly, watching him take a seat on the couch, legs spread apart as he adjusts his hips and sinks down in his seat. Fondness spreads through you at the awkward, oddly charismatic way he carries himself. He lays an arm over the back of the couch leisurely, opening himself up as Nancy winds the VHS.

Magnetic as he may be, there’s a shroud of something around him, something dark that extends past his appearance.

You make a resolution not to find out, to get through this year without mishap, but when Nancy takes the last viable seat, you’re left to take a seat next to the guy you promised to swear off.

Eddie stiffens when you take the seat next to him, awkwardly tensing and stealing looks. Robin offers you a comforting smile as the movie starts, and while you stay firm on wanting as much distance between you and Eddie as you can manage, the heat between you slowly builds, and the distance becomes smaller. The pull towards each other becomes heady until you’re pressed up against one another, your shoulder tucked into Eddie’s arm, your head under his chin.

You feel his heart rate spike at the jumpscares, matching yours, but where you wear fear and apprehension on your face—Eddie wears excitement.

——————————————————————————

Somebody’s watching you.

It’s a thought that crosses your mind multiple times a day, every day for around ten months now. It starts as a fleeting occurrence, something you can chalk up to anxiety, but as the days pass, the rolling unease in your stomach, and the pressure on the back of your neck becomes more insistent.

Somebody’s watching you.

It’s near constant; following you at home, through the school hallways, free periods, the mall. It’s worse at night. With fall on the horizon, the days are shorter, and in the dead of night, you feel as though there are eyes on you, crawling up your body like little fire ants.

Curtains and blinds don’t help. The feeling is heavier when you can’t see what lurks outside.

A heavy thump from downstairs tears you from a deep sleep, the sound grabbing you by the chest and slamming you into consciousness. You sit idly for a few seconds, allowing your brain to catch up and your heart to settle down before you brave breaching your covers.

You glance at the clock.

02:22.

It’s not until you’re several shaky steps towards your bedroom door that you realise what the sound was.

Somebody closed your front door.

Adrenaline courses through your veins, making sure you’re wide awake. You reach for the door with trembling hands and step outside into the lit hallway—you can’t sleep in a dark home when you’re alone.

“Dad?” You call out.

You squeeze your eyes shut, wishing for his voice to call back so badly, you almost imagine it. He’s not due back for another five days, and when you lean over the bannister to look at the entryway, and don’t miraculously see his shoes—your blood runs ice cold.

Somebody was in your house.

There’s an idiom associated with horror movies.

When you hear a strange noise, going to investigate is an almost sure fire way to get yourself killed and have your face plastered on the front page of tomorrow’s paper. But your feet carry you downstairs anyway, curiosity outweighing rational thought. You at least want to know if you need to get the hell out of your house, and with no escape upstairs, you’re safer downstairs.

The floorboards under the stairs creak with your weight as you pad down to the front door, double checking the lock. You slowly check the living room, the dining room, and the kitchen when a chilling thought occurs to you.

You freeze.

The door closing could have been a person going out.

Or a person coming in.

Ice freezes down your spine, cracking your resolve as your heart jumps to your mouth. Suddenly, the kitchen phone rings and you yelp, body recoiling at the sound.

“Hello?”

“You want to play a game?” A voice leers.

“What?”

“I’m just messin’,” replies a more familiar voice. “What are you doin’ up this late?”

“Eddie?”

“No, the fuckin’ Grim Reaper.” He deadpans. “Yeah, it’s Eddie. What are you doin’ up’?”

“Nothing. Just needed some water.” You reply absent-mindedly, filling up your glass.

You’re here, you might as well.

The water replenishing your dehydrated body kicks your brain into gear, a thought occurring to you. “Wait. Why did you call me if you didn’t know I’d be awake?”

“I saw your lights on.”

Your brows furrow. “What do you mean, you ‘saw my lights on’?”

“Relax, 21 Questions. I’m doin’ a run for one of my regulars and I was in your neighbourhood. Thought I’d drive by and see if you were all good since you were so tetchy about a week alone. Saw your lights on—gave you a call. That okay?”

You smile at his gruff gesture.

You’ve learned that about Eddie in the past ten months. He’s well-meaning, but every sweet gesture is undercut by a layer of sarcasm and gruffness. You don’t blame him for his coldness.

Despite moving to town two months after Chrissy’s death, you were quickly made privy to everything that happened, and the aftermath, you saw for yourself. Eddie, despite being cleared, still subjected to whispers and dirty looks, branded a devil worshipper and a cult worshipper and a murderer.

Graffiti on his locker, snide comments in the halls, even his business took a hit. His only saving graces were Hopper, who’d cleared him, his Uncle Wayne and your group of your friends—and to a lesser degree—you.

“Of course that’s okay.” You reply.

He makes a non-committal noise. “You doing okay, though?”

A part of you wants to tell him you’re scared, maybe have him blow off his weed run and come keep you company. There’s a safeness with Eddie, but you decide against it.

Your voice pinches when you speak. “Yeah. All good.”

A moment of silence stretches between you, almost like he doesn’t believe you. He breaks the silence finally.

“You sure?”

“Mhm.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow.” You finish and slide the phone back into the hook.

You replenish your glass of water, content to explain the slamming sound away as yet another coincidence—maybe as a dream your brain confused with reality when you were coming to.

As you set the glass on the kitchen island, your eyes catch a glimpse of something behind the roll of tissue. You slowly reach forward, moving the tissue out of the way to reveal a single flower with thin, dark maroon petals and a pink centre.

A black dahlia.

You pluck it from the countertop with a shaky breath, examining it under the light, and drop it when you feel a pull at the back of your neck, the feeling of somebody’s eyes on you returning again, making you feel uneasy.

You don’t spare the flower, nor the window behind you a second look, the glass of water left on the marble as you grab a knife and walk firmly to the couch in the living room. You draw the curtains and switch on the TV, flick through until a rerun of a movie plays on mute in the background, lulling you into as deep of a sleep as you can manage in the circumstances.

But somebody’s watching you.

——————————————————————————

You drag your body through the hallways the next morning, eyes weighed down like dumbbells and head fuzzy from the lack of sleep. You let your head rest against the cool metal of your locker to offer you some relief as your eyes close, succumbing to your exhaustion.

“Hey!” Nancy’s voice chirps. She looks at you perplexed when you jump. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You blink heavily and pull your locker open. “No, it’s fine. Just tired, that’s all.”

“Did you stay up late studying for Mr Haskell’s?” She asks, propping her hardback textbooks against her hip.

Shit.

“God, I wish. I actually forgot.” You sigh, grabbing your binders.

Your peripheral registers something falling out of your locker and drifting to the floor as you take out your things. Nancy’s quicker than you, balances her books on her hip and bends to pick up the item, your heart skidding to a halt when you see it in her hand.

Another black dahlia.

You feel the blood drain from your face, your stomach dropping and fingers going numb.

He was here. You’re being followed.

You feel that ominous feeling return, the feeling that you’re being watched, the crowd in the hallways offering you no solace. It feels like walking through a group of people with an invisible stab wound, nobody any the wiser of your impending doom except for you.

Nancy spins the flower from the stem, a smile taking over her face as she extends it to you. “A dahlia… nice. Who’s the guy?” She asks in a sing-song voice.

Your voice feels far away when you answer her. “There’s no guy.”

“Sure. She says sardonically. “You have flowers in your locker but no secret admirer. I want details.” As she walks away, she nods as an acknowledgement to somebody behind you.

You squeeze the flower between your hand just as a strong pair of hands pat, or rather, jostle your shoulders.

“What’s this I hear about a secret admirer?”

“Christ, Eddie. You almost gave me a heart attack.” You mutter, stuffing the flower into your pocket.

His eyes narrow as he scans your face. His gaze is intense, but it offers you an odd kind of relief— his exuberance oddly cancelling out the nauseating fear clouding you.

Leaning against Nancy’s locker with his hands in his pockets, he asks, “Why so tetchy? You okay?”

“I’m fine.”

He leans in, looks down at you with a gaze that makes your skin prickle, a feeling you’ve had often during your friendship.

He taps your shin with his foot. “You know, you’re cute when you lie.”

Your breath hitches. He smells like leather and pine, and he’s tall and broad and warm, and if you leaned into him just a little, you know that some of your tension would at least melt away.

“Really, Eddie. I’m okay.” You smile, squeezing his hand.

You retract it quickly, Eddie stiffening when Carol saunters past you, accidentally tripping over Tina’s leg to bump into you with a sickeningly sweet, “sorry, honey.”

Your first instinct is to push her right back. You’d love nothing more than to pull out a chunk of her hair after what she and her asshole friends did to you. You’re smarter than that, though—she’d paint herself as the victim and you’d end up in detention with a serious mark in your permanent record.

You roll your eyes, muttering a defiant, ‘bitch’, under your breath.

“What was that about?” Eddie asks, jerking his chin towards Carol and Tommy.

“Nothing.” You clip.

He narrows his eyes expectantly, giving you yet another opportunity to reveal to him what he already knows.

Around a month ago, after a fight at a party, Steve had ended up crashing at Eddie’s for a few days after being arrested—courtesy of his ex best friend Tommy crying over a busted lip. Hopper had reassured Steve it was for appearances, that he’d be free to go as soon as his dad picked him up, secretly knowing that Tommy had most likely deserved the right hook.

Mr. Harrington though, had kicked Steve out after making his bail. It was then Steve had told Eddie about the incident at the party, about how Robin had called him absolutely furious after Tommy had tried to force himself on you.

He’d gotten a knee to the balls from you, Robin and Nancy piling on, and a right hook from Steve, but the damage had been done. By the next morning, Tina and Carol had worked their magic, branding you as the whore who tried to steal Carol’s boyfriend.

Eddie watches Tommy and Carol keenly now, an expression on his face that you’ve come to see more often recently. It’s as though the warmth drains from his eyes, leaving behind an unfeeling presence before he snaps back.

The warmth returns to his eyes as quickly as it disappears, working its way to you as if by an invisible line. “You can tell me.” He says softly. “You know you can tell me anything.”

Your chest constricts. “Eh. Apparently, I’m a whore. It’s whatever.”

His jaw ticks again. “Don’t talk about yourself like that. You’re about as pure as they come.” He marvels, gaze lingering on your lips. His hand absently brushes some hair behind your ear, and he freezes, letting it hang awkwardly.

You huff, slapping his wrist away. “Okay. Yoda? You sound like an idiot. This isn’t the 1800’s—women have and enjoy sex, you know?”

He snaps back into his detached ruse, leaning against the locker to play with his rings. He runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek, suggestive lilt to his voice.

“Oh yeah? Why don’t you tell me more about that?”

“Dude, you’re nasty.”

“Maybe.” His eyes darken before he inhales deeply. “Listen, I got a free period, so I’m gonna run. I have a business meeting that is most urgent and requires my utmost attention.”

“Eddie-“

He’s already walking away, his broad back heading for the doors at the end of the hall. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t worry. I’ll be back by lunch, Sweetheart.”

You smile to yourself and reach back into your pocket, having temporarily forgotten about your present. You wish you could hold onto that feeling of safety and happiness that Eddie gives you a little longer, bottle it up and use it for when your anxiety reaches its peaks.

Being around Eddie always has that effect on you, try as you might to push it down.

——————————————————————————

“Turn on the news.” Nancy hisses through the crackly phone. “Now!”

“Christ, Nance. Do you even know what time it is? It’s barely light outside.” You grumble, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. “What’s going on?”

“Forget about the time, just turn on your TV!”

“Okay! Okay, gimme a second.” You groan.

You rush downstairs for the TV remote and flick through the channels until you get to the news. On the screen, police and ambulance sirens paint the scene red and blue, police tape cordoning off a house just a few blocks from yours. You turn the volume up and catch the last few words from the reporter.

“—Tragedy rocks Hawkins once again, as the bodies of two teenagers, Carol Perkins, and her boyfriend Thomas Hagan were found butchered in the early hours of this morning.”

The words go off like a bomb in your ear, the floor giving out from under your feet as you slump down on the sofa, shakily clutching the remote.

“Holy shit. Holy shit, holy fucking shit.” You murmur.

“Yeah, you’re telling me.”

Your voice sounds tinny when you speak. “They were murdered?”

“Butchered.”

“God, I know I said I wanted to see her head on a spike but this is awful. I can’t believe somebody would do that.”

A shiver runs down your spine at your proximity to the victims—despite your vitriolic hatred for the both of them, Carol and Tommy are—were—people you saw everyday. You can’t say anybody deserves to be butchered.

“Can you meet Robin, Jonathan and me at my place in an hour? We’re gonna go get some answers.” Nancy asks.

“Isn’t that a reporter’s job? Or the PD?” You ask, alarmed.

“I wanna major in journalism, that basically makes me half a reporter already. Just meet at my place in an hour. Bring sensible shoes.”

Any room for negotiation goes out of the window as the line goes dead. You set the now clammy phone down on the hook and stay rooted in spot, staring blankly at the TV as the news reel plays out in the background.

“—Police and Fire were called to the scene at around 3:00am when Perkins’ parents arrived home to a fire. Upon their arrival, they found their home in disarray and the two teenagers dead. Hawkins PD are still combing the scene for evidence and are expected to make an announcement later this evening. One thing is for sure though, it seems that death and tragedy are never too far where Hawkins is concerned.”

You’d completely forgotten about the dark cloud that had been looming over Hawkins this past year. These new killings seem especially insidious with the anniversary of Chrissy Cunningham’s death approaching in just a few days.

Becoming cognizant of Chrissy, you want to reach out to Eddie to ask him how he’s doing following this news. You’ve no doubt that this time of year is likely to dredge up some horrific memories for him—it’s only been a year since he was labelled as the town pariah—ostracised through no fault of his own.

This won’t help.

He’ll be subjected to looks in the street again and whispers as he walks by, as though he’s a stain on the town. He’ll be scapegoated. Again.

You want to reach out to Eddie for him, sure. But there’s also a selfish undercurrent to your thoughts; Eddie’s an increasingly comforting figure in your life and you need him to knock you back on track, especially if Nancy’s going to be critiquing your journalism skills this morning.

A hit of something to get your head right.

You hit three on your speed dial, put the coffee on while the line rings and make your way upstairs.

His voice crackles through the phone and has the strangest effect by offering you almost-immediate relief. “Who the hell is this?” He grumbles, voice thick with sleep.

It makes your heart pick up pace.

You stifle a laugh. “Eddie, it’s me.”

He moans, and you picture him with mussed hair, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His voice is still thick when he talks; though, much less irritable this time. “Mornin’, sunshine. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I’m guessing you didn’t see the news?”

“Nah. Not yet at least. Late night. What’s going on?”

“It’s Carol and Tommy. They found their bodies this morning, they were killed.” You whisper the last part in a hushed tone, like verbalising it will somehow bring the curse to you.

“Wait, what did you just say? They were murdered?” You hear rustling on the other end and assume Eddie’s making a mad dash to the living room in his boxers to turn on the TV. “Do they know who did it?”

“No, I don’t think so. Not yet—“

“—Hey, man. Turn that up?”

You pause in your doorway, brows furrowing. “Who are you talking to?”

“Harrington—he got into another pissing match with his dad a few nights ago, told him he could have the couch while Wayne was at work.”

“Christ, dude. They’re saying they were butchered.” Steve says, muffled in the background.

You straighten the edges of your bedsheets and start to pick out the sensible shoes Nancy requested, zoning in on another pair you’ll inevitably have to loan to Robin.

“Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, I thought you already knew. I just…wanted to check in.”

Eddie pauses before he speaks hesitantly. “Check in?”

“Yeah. I mean, I know it’s coming up to a year since all of that stuff happened, and I can’t imagine this is gonna be easy for you, y’know? I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

A surge of warmth spreads inside him. Rarely does he feel truly content or peaceful, especially as of late; he has enough emotional baggage to last a lifetime. But he does feel blessed to have sporadic moments of lightness—short—but always with you.

“You sayin’ you care about me or something?” He murmurs, no doubt careful to avoid Steve’s ears but you can hear the smile in his voice.

You snicker, your eyes falling to your slightly open underwear drawer. You go to close it with an absent-minded push of your hips when your eyes catch something.

Your heart plummets like a lead weight, a shot of dread piercing your chest.

“Hello? You there?” Eddie calls out, but your hands are trembling.

Stuffed in your underwear drawer, deliberately wrapped inside a pair of white cotton panties, is another black dahlia.

“Eddie, I’m gonna have to call you back.” You squeak.

His voice shifts. “You okay? Something wrong?”

“Fine. I’ll talk to you later.” You clip, the phone landing with a thud against your mattress.

You reach for the flower, gingerly unwrapping it from the white cotton only to reveal a small note tucked under the stem. Nausea claws at your stomach and invades your throat, leaving your head tingly and eyes spotty.

Black sharpie against red paper reads;

“The things we do for love. Be seeing you soon, my flower. I have some business to take care of first.”

It's as direct a threat to you as you’ve had so far, but there’s an insinuation there too. An icy thought sends chills through your veins. You may be responsible for Carol and Tommy’s deaths which is in itself a steel weight, but this note doesn’t indicate any sign of the violence stopping.

If anything, it connotes the opposite.

You can’t explain the paranoia and the flowers away, can’t live in the content grey safety of denial anymore. He was here.

In your room. Rifling through your underwear drawer. Watching you sleep.

Could he have touched you?

Are you the business he has to take care of?

Your stomach rolls, and you run to the bathroom to empty your guts into the toilet, gagging until the remnants of last night’s barely-there-dinner are gone and you’re shivering and cold on the tiled floor.

You’re hit with the feeling of somebody watching you again, pressure tugging at the back of your neck like tiny threads under your skin. Your eyes dart out of the window but you don’t see anything.

Or anybody.

You never do.

——————————————————————————

Your investigation with Robin and Nancy turns up nothing except more disturbing information, which you grimly conclude could well predict your own demise. You’re running on fumes, paranoid and scared for your life, the walk up the stairs to get into school seeming like a chore.

“Tommy went first.” Robin tells Eddie the following morning.

“What?” He asks, dodging Robin’s attempt to snatch the cigarette out of his mouth. She tries again, but he dodges again, manoeuvring you to walk between them.

“Yeah. We overheard Hopper and Callahan over the radio. He was shot in both knees first, tied to a chair, gagged, then stabbed. His insides…on the outside.”

Eddie’s face contorts, not so much in horror, but in mild disgust as he exhales a cloud of smoke. It seems Tommy had enemies in just about every circle except for his own; and despite your best intentions not to think it, you conclude that somebody finally decided to take matters into their own hands.

“And Carol? Stabbed in the back, chest, and neck. Gutted and tied to a tree. Can you believe that shit? This guy is serious.” Robin continues.

She’s managed to dig up a rubber band from inside her pocket and snaps it against her wrist, each slap against her skin housing a migraine deeper in your temple.

You wince.

“Careful, Buck. Almost sounds like you admire him. Besides, how do you know it’s a guy?” Eddie asks, taking a drag of his cigarette.

“Statistics.” Nancy interjects, clicking her locker shut. “Violent kills are almost always executed by men. That, and the fact that it would take a pretty huge guy to hog-tie Tommy, and then string Carol’s dead body up on a tree.”

“Alright.” You feel nausea rising in your stomach again. Slamming your locker shut, you squeeze your eyes closed. “Can we not? I feel sick.”

“You look it.” Robin deadpans, raising her hands in defence when you, Nancy and Eddie cut her a look. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it in a you-look-awful way, I’m just saying you look like you haven’t been sleeping.”

Eddie’s hand cups your cheek, gently turning your face to his. “Yeah. Have you been sleeping?” He asks, cigarette tucked between his lips. His thumb runs over the delicate skin under your eyes. “You look so tired.”

You tense up at the sudden contact from Eddie, who, despite being notoriously tactile, isn't somebody you’d ever describe as affectionate except maybe with Dustin and the kids.

You allow yourself a moment of weakness to melt into his touch, his warm skin and icy rings, but your eyes dart to Robin and Nancy who share a wry look. You become aware of the droves of people staring and whispering as they go by too, and suddenly your throat feels tight.

“I’m fine.” You clip, prying yourself away from his tender touch and he reacts by awkwardly shoving his hands in his pockets, hurt by the sudden change.

He knows it’s because people are staring, he just hadn’t expected you to care. You can’t handle the eyes on you—not when there’s somebody breathing down your neck.

The rational part of you knows that it’s because you’re in such close proximity to Eddie, who’s been re-subjected to dirty looks and hostile whispers since Tommy and Carol died yesterday. It seems that despite his name being cleared in good faith last year, the people of Hawkins merely needed a reason to scapegoat Eddie again, all too quick to spit the words devil worshipper and cult leader his way.

Eddie brushes the looks off, his jaw tensing and releasing, tensing and releasing, shoulders tight like a coil as he takes a deep drag of his cigarette.

“Fuckin’ morons.” He mutters under his breath. “A serial killer walks the streets of Hawkins but sure…” He mock lunges at a group of lowerclassmen who flinch and disperse down the hallway, earning more looks from passersby. “Let's all gather around to stare at the freak.”

“Mr. Munson,” Higgins’ voice booms, his eyes falling to the cigarette in Eddie’s mouth. “You can either put that out, or I can put it out for you—and while I do relish in giving you detention—I no longer wish to see you roam these halls for yet another year. I’m frankly sick of seeing your face.”

“Oh believe me. The feeling’s mutual, asshole.” Eddie grumbles, a begrudging appeasement on his face. He theatrically plucks the cigarette from his mouth and puts it out against the metal rim of the bin behind you. “Guy’s a pain in my sack.”

Robin’s cackle is cut short when a sudden buzz crawls over the student body. It takes over like a swarm of bees, students yelling and clamouring in the direction of the football field. In the distance, you see Argyle and a pale Jonathan cut through the crowd, right as Mr Higgins receives a radio transmission and pushes through the horde himself.

You narrow your eyes, your group pulling Jonathan and Argyle to the side of the stampede. “What’s going on?”

“Dudes, they found another body.” Argyle tells the group.

The news hits you with the subtlety of a crashing train, leaving the words ricocheting in your ear. You fight to keep your composure, doing the maths in your head to figure out where on your shadow’s roster you fall.

“What? Who? Where? How? How do you guys know?” Nancy asks in rapid succession, grabbing Jonathan and Argyle with a hand each.

“I was walking down to take pictures out on the football field for the yearbook, and saw what I thought was a doll or a scarecrow or something. Just hanging from the goalpost.” Jonathan pants weakly.

“Yeah. Got closer and realised it was a real person. A lady.” Argyle adds, shaking his head.

Eddie huffs, leaning against his locker. “A lady?”

“Tina.” Jonathan corrects. “Somebody already tipped off the cops—Hopper pulled up right as we saw her body. She was in her pyjamas, you guys. All covered in blood.” He runs a stressed hand through his hair, bending to put his hands on his knees. “I think I’m gonna throw up.” He wheezes.

Argyle rubs his back sympathetically, while Nancy kicks herself into high gear. Rifling through her locker, she grabs her school newspaper notebook and best ballpoint pen—the kind she reserves for sleuthing and writing speeches—and turns heel.

“I swear, if you want something done right…” she mutters and she’s a flash of a perm as she scurries away, joining the now well-informed student body of the attraction outside.

The gaggle eventually dies down and gets filtered into the gym, squashed together like sardines in a can; some taking up the bleachers, some using the benches, the lowerclassmen claiming the floor as their sitting space.

Eddie tucks you into his arm on the sidelines where the rest of your friends sit in an effort to conserve space. He balances his copy of Lord of The Rings on his knee, the spine snapped, edges frayed and tattered, various motor oil stains soaked into the paper with rows and rows of annotations littering the page.

At best, it's well-loved—at worst, it’s unreadable—but it’s one of Eddie’s prized possessions and it shows.

Higgins’ voice through the speaker silences the hustle of whispering students, rumours and gossip dying down almost immediately.

“All classes are henceforth suspended until further notice. When prompted, please collect all important belongings from your lockers and proceed to leave in an orderly fashion. Police Chief Hopper also has an announcement to make—please remain where you are for now.”

Cheers for class suspension are cut short when Hopper swiftly implements a strict citywide 9:00pm curfew.

“Any citizens reported to be out after this time will be brought in by an officer and questioned before release. It is vital you heed this curfew as it has been put in place for your own safety. Please report any concerns directly to the Police Department or call 9-1-1. Thank you.”

A resigned groan makes its way through the crowd as students filter out, Tommy’s old friend group uncharacteristically quiet; haunted by the news. It tracks—the only discernible pattern so far is that the killer has a vendetta against their group of friends.

It’s your own entanglement that doesn't track.

“So. What’s the rundown?” Robin asks Nancy as you make your way down to the parking lot.

Nancy looks pale. “Tina was cut from chin to stomach through her nightgown.” She says, shakily. “But there’s more.”

Your blood runs cold. “More?”

“Yeah. It’s not confirmed yet, but I overheard Hopper telling Higgins they found another body this morning on the other side of town. They said the description matched Fred Benson.”

“The guy who did the student paper with you?” Eddie asks.

Nancy bristles. Her relationship with Fred had soured last year after he insisted on covering Chrissy’s murder, putting Eddie at the forefront. Nancy had refused—then fired him.

“Yeah.” She goes on. “Parents didn’t even know he was missing.”

Nancy’s words only stand to remind you that you too could be murdered and strung up like a carcass for the town to see—and nobody would be any the wiser until it was too late.

You should tell somebody. Anybody. But your mind stops you, a terrifying thought crossing your mind. Telling your friends could put them in danger too. Taking out entire friendship groups seems like a day’s work for this killer, and if anything happened to your friends, you’d never forgive yourself.

“I’m gonna wait for Will and the rest of those guys, make sure they’re okay, but we’ll reconvene at Nance’s?” Jonathan asks.

“Wait—you heard Hopper. There’s a curfew.” You say.

Nancy shrugs. “Safety in numbers. C’mon.”

Eddie pats your shoulder as he lights another cigarette. “I’ll catch up with you guys later—I left my briefcase inside. I’ll bring the beer to Nance’s.”

“Somebody’s gotta tell Steve, does he even know what’s going on?” You ask.

“I’ll take care of it.” Eddie says, voice thick with smoke. “I gotta swing by Family Video anyhow, it appears Keith is in the market for my recreational sleeping aids.”

Argyle gestures to Eddie who gives him the affirmative—and you shake your head. A serial killer walks the streets and your friends are making sure there’s enough weed at an unmandated ‘gathering’.

“Be safe?” You call out to Eddie.

He kicks his leg, gives you a mock salute. “Always am. You too.”

——————————————————————————

“Well. I’m just saying, y’know. There are certain rules when it comes to slashers.” Jonathan mumbles through a mouthful of chips.

“Is that what this is? A slasher?” Steve asks, adjusting in his seat.

The basement air smells like weed and cheap beer, the sourness of the salsa that Robin opened twenty minutes ago cutting through the stench. Your stomach is already in pieces with worry, talk of a slasher movie and the dank air does little to quell your nerves.

“Yeah. I mean. Think about it.” He munches. “You got a guy in a mask goin’ around, killing a bunch of teenagers, hanging them up on goalposts?”

Argyle’s content to listen, offering a grunt of agreement here and there, but he pipes up. “Yeah. Plus, y’know the whole haunted past in a small town thing. No offence, my dude.” He says to Eddie.

Eddie raises his brows, shakes his head. No harm done.

“So, these rules then. Let’s have ‘em.” Steve says. “What do you got?”

“Well. The first is that everybody’s a suspect. Everybody. That’s a given.”

“Yeah. No shit.” Steve nods, huffing a laugh.

Jonathan stands up, his eyes wide. “Now the rules to surviving a slasher movie—well. That’s a whole different ball game.”

“Go on.”

“Rule number one: never have sex.”

You catch Eddie’s eye from across the room. It’s something you’d noticed pretty much the day you met; oftentimes you’d be engrossed in something, or just happen to look up at Eddie to find him already watching you. His gaze makes your skin prickle with intensity, blood warming under your skin.

Despite being in a room full of people, your looks always seem like they’re reserved just for the two of you, an invisible string tying you to him and pulling you closer despite the physical distance remaining the same.

“—Big no.” Jonathan continues. “Sex equals death. Slasher and horror symbolism in general relies heavily on the innocent virgin as a survivor trope. Promiscuity guarantees death.”

Eddie’s gaze lingers on yours, his elbows perched on his knees, chin tucked into his chest. He looks good in this light, full lips casting a shadow, his eyes transfixed on you. You lose your nerve and look away, but can’t fight the desire to glance at him again.

He’s still watching you with almost drunken eyes that you attribute to the beer, though you know he can handle his alcohol.

“Number two: no drinking or doing drugs. It’s an extension of number one—the sin factor. It’s a sin!”

“Oh great. Guess we’re all fucked.” Steve mutters, taking a swig of his beer. “It’s bullshit, man. This isn’t a slasher and no serial killer is going to know if you’re a boring, sober, virgin.”

Eddie finally averts his gaze, picking at the frayed denim on his jeans. “Byers, you know I make my living supplying recreational substances to those in need.”

“—And Steve has deflowered every legal girl who likes men, all the way up to like, Fort Wayne.” Robin snorts, raising her drink.

“Well—not exactly.” Steve squints. “But they both make a good point. By your so-called rules, Byers; Eddie and I would’ve been the first ones to go.”

You shake your head, feeling a massive tangent coming and decide to cut out while you can. The thought of going home to an empty house fills you with dread, especially with the recent uptick in dead bodies. You can’t sleep, not when your ears pick up the smallest noises and twist them into sinister scenarios.

The wind howling through the gaps in your windows sounds eerily like somebody screaming, the floorboards settling make you see an intruder out of the corner of your eye.

You’re exhausted.

Nancy follows you upstairs, turning you by your arm. “Hey, you doing okay?”

“Yeah. It’s a little much down there.” You inhale deeply now that the air is thinner and fresher.

“You know what they get like when they drink.” Nancy laughs. “Do you wanna stay over tonight? Robin was thinking about crashing and I don’t love the idea of you at home by yourself with everything going on. Just stay with me until your dad gets back.”

You feel a wave of relief wash over you. “Actually, would you mind? I don’t really wanna be by myself.”

“Yeah!” She laughs. “Of course. I can take you to grab your stuff in the morning.”

“Thanks, Nance. I gotta double check the alarm and locks anyway, so I’ll go grab my things now.” You smile, turning to grab your keys from the bowl on the credenza.

“You sure? It’s late.”

‘Rule number 3,’ Jonathan continues downstairs out of earshot, ’never, ever, under any circumstances, say you’ll be right back.’

“It’s a few blocks away.” You reassure her. “I’ll be right back.”

——————————————————————————

Somebody’s watching you.

You feel a tug on the back of your neck when you get to the top of the Wheeler’s cul-de-sac. It becomes more insistent as you turn left on to a densely tree-lined street, which, dimly lit as usual, is eerily silent. With the exception of you and your friends, it seems the residents of Hawkins are abiding by Hopper’s mandate.

You brush the feeling off and slide your keys between your fingers, picking up pace. By the time you get to your driveway, your heart is in your mouth and you’re almost at a full sprint, nearly slipping on the corner of a flowerbed.

You’d devised a plan on the way home.

Check the alarms, downstairs windows, upstairs windows, grab your bag from the closet in the hallway and pack as you go. Simple enough.

But somebody’s watching you.

Your trembling hands make you fumble and miss the lock a few times, the key bluntly jamming against the metal. You’re finally in, about to twist the lock when a hand aggressively swipes at your arm and drags you backwards.

You yelp, stomach swooping in pure terror, blood pounding in your ears.

He’s here.

You come face to face with a bloodshot Jason, whiskey heavy on his breath. He looks desperate and frenzied in just a pair of chinos and a white polo—it’s freezing out. His presence offers you an odd sense of relief, you can tell from his appearance he’s not about to hurt you and he doesn’t pose any immediate danger.

He seems scared.

He pulls you in close, his vice grip making your skin pinch.

“Let go, Jason. What the hell is wrong with you, why are you outside my house?”

“I came to warn you.”

“Warn me? About what?!” You snap.

“About the company you keep.” He slurs darkly. “You’re not new anymore, but you weren’t here when it went down. When Chrissy died.”

You squirm, attempting to free your arm, but Jason’s grip is vicious in his trance-like state. “What the hell does that have to do with me?”

He’s here physically, but his mind is elsewhere. “It’ll be a year tomorrow. And it’s like she was never here. Like she never existed.”

Your heart sinks for him, a loss so large, so young is sure to rock anybody. But you know the other side of him—the side that radicalised half the town into hunting down Eddie. That almost killed Lucas and Erica when they tried to help.

“Look. Jason. I’m sorry about what happened, but that doesn’t explain why you’re grabbing my arm.” You grunt, trying to break free. “What does this have to do with me?”

He jostles you, shaking you hard enough that the pain radiates up your arm like a vine. “Everything! This has everything to do with you! Your friend? Eddie? I know they cleared him, said that he had nothing to do with it, but I know the truth. I know what he is.” He says, words dripping with disdain.

In a surge of defensiveness, you drag the serrated edge of your keys across his skin, drawing a little blood.

“You bitch!” He sneers, snatching his hand away. “You’ll regret that. You’ll regret not listening to me. Don’t say I didn’t warn you; don’t say I didn’t tell you what he was!” He angrily stalks off, disappearing into the tree line.

When you’d first moved to Hawkins, rumours of golden girl Chrissy dying at the hands of a satanic cult had intrigued you. Dustin had filled you in on the rest and after meeting Eddie and the rest of his innocent D&D group, you knew those rumours were a work of fiction.

“Hey!” Eddie shouts from a few feet away. He gestures in the direction of the tree line. “Was that Jason?”

“Yeah.” You mutter, gingerly touching your arm.

Eddie closes the last few feet between you, jogging to you as you open your door. “What did he want?”

“Said he saw me walking home, wanted to make sure I was okay.”

Eddie looks at you incredulously as he steps inside. “Looked intense, you okay?”

“Yeah. All good.”

Eddie’s eyes fall to the raised welts on your forearm, your hands paler from the lack of blood flow. He gently holds your wrist and brings it up to the hallway light to examine the marks.

“Did Jason do that?” He asks. “Did he hurt you?”

“No.” You sigh resignedly. “He was drinking, and he said some stuff about Chrissy’s death anniversary, I think he was just… a little out of it. Got a little overzealous.”

“Overzealous?” Eddie asks, getting closer to you. “He left a paw print. Y’know I swear, guys like him think they can get away with anything—“

“—Yeah. But I’m fine, Eddie. It looks worse than it is.” You place your hand around his and squeeze reassuringly. “Really. I’m okay.”

“You sure?“

“I swear, Eddie. I’m all good.”

Your peripheral suddenly plays a cruel trick on you, making you jump at the impression of somebody in the kitchen.

Eddie finally lets go of your hand, laughing at your reaction. “You okay? You’re really jumpy.” He asks, rubbing your shoulders as you walk into the kitchen.

“There’s a serial killer in town, Eddie. Why aren’t you jumpy?” You deadpan. “Is that why you’re here?”

He chuckles self-effacingly, scratching the back of his head. “Yeah. Nancy told me you took off to grab your things and I didn’t want you to have to walk by yourself with all that stuff.” He stops you from reaching for the window with a hand on your hips, walking around you instead. “Here, I got it.”

He extends his lean body to twist the window handle, his t-shirt riding up to reveal his toned abs. Red welts—scratches—mark his stomach and a twinge of jealousy creeps up your chest when you think about how he may have gotten those marks.

“Hey!” Eddie says, snapping his fingers. “Where do you keep goin’, you good?”

Embarrassment warms your cheeks, snapping you back into reality. “Of course. I have my knight in shining armour, don’t I?” You say sardonically, rounding the island to go upstairs.

You’re halfway through the hallway before you realise you’re not being followed by Eddie; he’s since taken to standing in the doorway with a look that you can’t read.

“What is it?” You ask.

He slowly steps towards you. “I know you’re kidding, but for what it’s worth—you never have to worry about that stuff when you’re with me.” He says softly, his voice thick. “You’re always safe with me. I hope you know that.”

You share a look in the dimly lit hallway, and you don’t know what this thing is between you—the thing where you know each other best, and look out for one another, and make one another feel safe, but where touches and looks linger for longer than they should.

You don’t have a shadow of a doubt colouring your answer when you reply, knowing wholeheartedly that you believe it.

“I know.”

When you get back to Nancy’s though, the night has taken a turn for the worse. The kids sit in the living room with the rest of your friends, everybody huddled up together around the TV as the breaking news reel plays.

“What’s going on?” You ask, setting your bag by the door.

“They found another body.” Steve tells you in a hushed voice, mindful of the kids but it’s useless—they’re watching the same thing you all are.

“Higgins.” Nancy explains, approaching you and Eddie. Out of earshot of the kids, she says, “they found him tied to the same goal post they unhooked Tina off of today. His eyes were gouged out and he was stabbed in the neck. He bled to death.”

Three victims. Three victims in one day.

Nancy mirrors that thought, but all you can think about now is how much longer you can outrun the shadow breathing down your neck, seemingly getting closer every day.

——————————————————————————

Breakfast is a bleak affair.

Mrs. Wheeler does everything to make sure you eat, encouragingly puts out a spread that most people dream of, while Mr Wheeler grumbles under his breath. You watch the boys, El and Max stuff their faces with pancakes, syrup dripping down their chins, but after the morning news, you can barely stomach anything.

Youre realising after watching the morning news, that it’s becoming a twisted kind of routine to wake up and expect the news of another murder.

Today’s victim: Andy Clayton.

Jason’s best friend and yes-man; found hacked to pieces, fibres of his letterman jacket found in his stab wounds from the brutal kill. You stick close to Nancy and Robin for the rest of the day, but when you come back from investigating, you find a chilling surprise on the Wheeler’s doorstep.

Nancy giggles and ducks inside with Robin, leaving you with your gift. Four black dahlias tied together with a length of twine, a note folded in half between the stems.

“I promise it won’t be much longer until we’re together, my flower. See you soon.”

Your head instinctually whips around, your eyes scanning the street, but it’s dead silent save for the occasional passing car. You turn back to the house, ice flowing into your veins as you realise you’re a sitting duck, and staying here would put everybody else in danger too.

The Wheelers, the kids, Robin.

You tuck the note into your pocket along with the four flowers and grab your bags, lying to Nancy that you’ll be back. Your first stop is going to see Eddie to ask for some company at the police station. You make the walk to your house, drop your bags in the trunk of your car and make the seven mile journey to Eddie’s trailer.

The sun sets on your way there, casting the sky in blooms of oranges and pinks, the landscape so much more vibrant in Hawkins than anywhere else you’ve lived. Eddie’s beat up van isn’t anywhere to be seen, but the lights inside his trailer are on, you knock once out of politeness and come in anyway after finding the door unlocked.

Not that Eddie ever remembers to lock his doors.

Inside, he’s still nowhere to be seen, the only thing interrupting the silence is the hum of the energy saver light bulb in the background and the sound of a dog barking outside.

“Eddie?” You call out, clicking the door shut behind you. “You home?”

You’re met with more silence.

You glance at the small clock above the hat-lined wall.

5:30pm.

Tentatively, you take a seat on the pull out couch that Steve and Wayne have taken to sharing by now, using the time you have to contemplate how best to broach the subject of your stalker with Eddie; where to start, how much to say.

Your legs start to tingle from nerves and pent up anxiety, forcing you to your feet.

You pace the length of the living room and to the kitchen and back again. Your stomach knots and unknots, a surge of nervous energy lodging in your throat and dissipating throughout your chest.

Absently, you walk into Eddie’s room—a bomb site on a good day. As you close the door behind you, something large and black swooshes against the hook, a large coat or a cloak of some kind, probably for his Hellfire Club meetings.

You should talk to Eddie about rebranding that soon.

You smile fondly as your eyes travel over his poster lined walls, the acoustic guitar perched in the corner, the magazines on top of his nightstand. The second drawer of his nightstand catches your eye, ajar slightly because of something caught between the drawer and the frame.

You look closer, eyes narrowing when you pull a length of twine out from the drawer. You examine it curiously, holding it up to the light when a thought occurs to you.

With a hesitant hand, you reach into your back pocket to pull out the dahlias you’d received earlier that day, comparing the twine to the one in your hand. Your brows furrow as you bring both pieces of twine together, joining the two diagonal edges to fit perfectly.

It’s a dead match.

You pull out his drawer in a daze, head growing fuzzy as you rummage through his things. It’s a coincidence—it has to be. There has to be an explanation.

Ice flows into your veins when you find five black dahlias tucked neatly into a roll of newspaper, red square note paper next to it. Your head rushes with blood, the room spinning as you try to somehow refute what’s in front of you.

This can’t be what you think it is. It can’t be.

You gag and run to the kitchen to empty your stomach in the sink. It’s fruitless, your stomach turning up nothing, leaving you to dry heave and clutch the counter.

No. No, no, no.

Your hands tremble, blood rushing in your ears and pumping through your body to drive you into high gear, to get the hell out.

You dart for the door, grabbing your bag and keys, and slam face first into a black wall, your hands taking the brunt of the impact, the shock forcing you back a few steps. Your bags and keys fall on the floor, the blood draining from your body when you look up at a cloaked figure with a white mask.

You tense up, making peace with the fact that this may be your end but still hold out a small amount of hope that it isn’t who you think it is behind the mask.

Then the figure speaks, says your name in that familiar way that sends shivers up your spine.

Eddie.

Your knees buckle and you trip backwards, the pressure inside your head increasing until you can hear a high-pitched whine. Shakily holding out your hands in front of you, you see them stained crimson, an unknown person’s blood licking your skin.

It’s the last thing you see before you succumb to darkness.

——————————————————————————

A horrible weight surrounds your head and there’s a ringing in your ears when you come to. It takes a few seconds for your mind to catch up, but when it does, you jolt in your seat, your movement restricted by something binding your hands and mouth.

You start to hyperventilate.

“Hey. Hey. Calm down.” Eddie says, crouching in front of your chair, sporting a busted lip, a bruised eye and bloody knuckles. “Fuck—Calm down, I need you to breathe, okay?” He rips the tape off your mouth and you struggle against the ties, but he pulls the chair in by its arms.“Hey! Breathe. C’mon—just match my pace, alright, you’re gonna pass out again. Fucking breathe.”

He exaggerates his own breathing rhythm now that you can see his chest in just his t-shirt to let your breathing fall into tandem with his. You let yourself breathe, focusing on the air expanding in your lungs, but terror still grips you.

Eddie watches you carefully, like you’re a cornered animal, his mask pulled up, hair matted to his forehead. “I’m going to cut you loose so we can talk, okay? M’gonna explain everything, but you can’t run. Can you do that?”

Images of Carol and Tommy, Tina, and the rest of his victims flash before your eyes. Eviscerated. Bludgeoned. Gutted.

You nod, not daring to look down knowing that the rope, the chair and your skin are stained with fresh blood.

“Good.” He breathes.

He brings a bloody hunting knife to your wrists, lodges the flat edge between you and the rope, and cuts upwards, slicing you free. You plant your shaky feet to test the waters, and launch yourself forward into Eddie’s chest, knocking him out of the way to start running.

“Goddamnit!” He grunts.

You make it a grand total of two paces before Eddie easily whips you around, pinning you against the wall. His nostrils flared, he reaches into his back pocket, brandishing the knife again. A scream dies in your throat as he places the glinting silver’s blunt edge against your neck.

“I didn’t want to use this. But I told you not to run, didn’t I? Didn’t I?!” His voice thunders inside the trailer, and you flinch backwards, hyper-aware of the knife at your throat.

The change in his demeanour makes you feel insignificant, like you never mattered to him. That realisation makes a lump catch in your throat. “You’re… you’re—“

He nods slowly, wide grin splitting his face. “Yeah. I am.” He replies mockingly, flipping the mask back on. “What did Jonathan say? Ghostface?”

A part of you thought—hoped—that he would try to deny it. You’d believe any explanation he’d give you if you tried hard enough, because accepting anything else would be easier than this.

Than accepting that your best friend is a serial killer.

“Jason… man, the bastard knows how to fight,” Eddie laments, licking his busted lip behind the mask. He clenches and unclenches his bruised hands, silver rings stained with blood. “Pulled my fucking cloak off and everything—but what are you gonna do? I had a knife. He didn’t. Bled out on my clothes but he knew it was me.”

You don’t want to hear this. You can’t hear this.

You look desperately for an escape, eyes darting until you spot something that makes your stomach swoop violently, grief ripping through you at the prospect.

Steve’s white Nikes, covered in blood.

You turn to Eddie shakily, eyes wide. “Did you kill Steve?”

He softens, trailing the knife over your cheek. You’re as still as you can be despite your body feeling like it’s vibrating, knowing too well that the smallest of movements could kill you.

“So sweet. So naive. My flower.” He whispers. “You think I strung Tina and Higgins’ big ass up on those goalposts myself?”

“No…. He—Steve?” You blubber, another wave of grief washing over you. You’ve just lost two of your best friends in the space of five minutes and you don’t have the time to think about the implications. You just need to make it out alive. “Why? Why did you do this? Why did you kill those people, Eddie?”

“Because there’s only so much a person can take. I mean, a year passed since Jason sicced his merry brigade of uptight Catholics on me. They all got to move on, get college scholarships, access to trust funds and opportunities to get out of this shithole. Me? I was gonna stay here and rot.” He seethes. “I tried my best to keep it under control. To push my urges down. But then I saw Carol bump you in that hallway, and I remembered what Tommy did to you at that party. That’s when I decided to end it.”

“How do you know about that?” You shudder.

“Harrington told me everything. Y’know for someone who secretly loves killing, he protested far too much in the beginning. Though, in his defence, I think he was a little cooked after the whole Russian torture thing. It was a perfect plan, really. I killed the people on his list—he killed the people on mine. Solid alibis. No connection.”

“I never asked for this. For any of it. You don’t get to pin your sick little indulgences on me, Eddie.”

He flinches, recoils at your words. “But I did it for you. To keep you safe. Why don’t you get that?!”

Salt falls from your eyes, trails down your face until your cheeks and neck are wet, a lump in your throat. “Are you going to kill me?”

He stares in awe at the pulse visible under your neck, lightly traces his knife over it. He may not even dignify your question with a response; all he would have to do is press in and you’d bleed out right on Mr. Munson’s orange carpet.

“I told you that you’re always safe with me, do you remember that?” When you ignore his question, he uses the knife to tip your chin up and takes the mask off. “Answer me.”

His eyes soften when he waits for you to answer, as though hanging onto your words for desperate validation. You get a glimpse of the Eddie you know—knew.

Your Eddie.

“Yes.” You reply truthfully.

“So how can you ask that? How could you possibly think I’d kill you?”

“Then why stalk me? Why send me the flowers—the letters—if I wasn’t next on your list?” You sob. “You must’ve known what I’d think, that I was scared. Why did you do that?”

“Because I love you.” He whispers reverently, closing in on you. His eyes soften, and when he says those four words, it’s Eddie. Eddie, despite the blood spatter on his neck and arms. It’s why it takes your breath away, because you can’t disregard it as the ramblings of a madman.

There’s some truth to it—even if it is sick.

And you hate yourself more for wanting him.

He sheaths the knife in his back pocket, closing the distance between you. “Do you have any idea…how long I’ve wanted you? How I’ve had to keep tabs on you from afar because I was afraid of what you’d think about me? I’ve wanted you since the day you moved here, way before we ever even met.”

You hate him. You hate yourself. You hate this.

Your palm makes a cracking sound against his cheek, leaving a blooming red mark on his face. “I hate you.”

His lips brush against yours. “No, you don’t.”

“Yes. I fucking hate you, Eddie. You broke my trust.”

“I know.”

Your fists beat down on his chest and arms, throwing punches against a solid chest. He grunts and takes the brunt of your beat down silently, your palms picking up the blood from his soaked t-shirt. It’s only once you’re reduced to tears that he stops you, encircling both of your blood-stained wrists and pulls you close to his chest.

“I hate you.” You repeat in a small voice.

“Yeah?” He asks, looking down at you.

He looks more like himself now, the version that makes you laugh, and loves to read, and has a rich imagination. The Eddie who makes your breath catch in your throat. His gaze is heated, loaded with the challenge of your hatred for him, as though he’s waiting for you to prove it.

His lips are plump and red, the divot on his chin pronounced.

“You really hate me?” He whispers. “Because I’ll let you go. You can go to the police, have me arrested, I don’t care. I just want you.”

You launch yourself at him, crushing your lips against his for a burning, all-consuming kiss. Your knees buckle at the long-awaited contact, his lips full and soft, yet demanding when they slide over yours, capturing your mouth with a bruising intensity. He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you to him so forcefully that it makes you mewl, the soft contours of your body moulding against his harder ones, blood soaking into your pale pink dress.

You pull away, panting for breath. “I hate you.” You chant. “I hate you. I hate you.”

He kisses you harder.

Your hands tangle in his hair as his lips devour you, hungry tongue meshing with yours. He moans in pain when you suckle his bruised bottom lip, the sound going straight to your core. He frantically reaches to touch as much of you as he can, presses his body against yours to make your chest heave with pleasure.

You pull away, looking at him hesitantly.

“Don’t look at me like that.” He pleads, voice cracking. “Don’t look at me like you’re scared of me.”

“I am scared, Eddie.” You whisper, a tear escaping your eye.

“I’m sorry, baby. I meant it when I said I’d never hurt you. I just wanna take care of you. Make you feel good the way you deserve. Will you let me do that? Can I show you? Please?”

Despite your fear, you’re warming to the idea that he’s still the Eddie that checks on you in the middle of the night, the Eddie that once drove an hour at 3:00am to pick you up from a party.

You swallow. “Yes.”

His warm eyes sparkle, capture your lips in another heated kiss. He moans desperately into your mouth as your lips slide over one another, panting as he firmly runs his hands up your hips, trailing up your ribcage and to your arms. He pins your hands above your head, stretching your body out and shoves his knee between your legs.

You break away from his mouth in pleasure, the coarse denim of his jeans rubbing against your panties. Your mouth falls open, head lolling back against the wall.

“Oh, you needed this, huh?” He says darkly, rocking his knee between your legs. “You like me. And you hate yourself for it.”

You chase his mouth but he dodges, a wicked look on his face. You fist your hands in his shirt collar and pull him down to capture his full lips between yours again, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood.

Eddie groans, his mind immediately jumping to how you’re capable of drawing blood for him too, even if it is his own. His cock twiches. “That’s my fucking girl.” He murmurs, dragging his thumb against his lip to wipe the blood. “You’re not as innocent as you look, huh?”

You wrap your hand around his large wrist, bring his hand to your own mouth to smear his blood on your lips. His eyes gleam, cock painfully hard. Your gaze falls to his lips, bruised and bleeding, blood in his mouth and on his chin.

“Go ahead.” He smiles knowingly.

You let the tip of your tongue trace the blood on his chin and lick upward until you trace the seam of his lips. He swallows your next breath with a bruising kiss, your lips coming together in a frenzied, sick heat, the taste of copper and warm blood coating your tongue.

He squeezes your hip with a large hand, brings you down to grind against his knee, the act debasing but you don’t care. Eddie makes you crazy, his broad build, his possessiveness; his dark side.

“C’mon. Let me see that pretty face when you cum. Go ahead. Cum on my thigh like the sick little thing you are.” He murmurs, looking down at the mess you’re leaving on his jeans. He roughly forces you to look down, his hands framing your face. “Look at that. Look at the mess you’re leaving. Soaking fucking wet and I haven’t even touched you yet, do I make that cunt leak, baby? That all for me?”

“Yeah, Eddie. For you. For you.” You chant.

“Atta girl. Cum for me now. Cum on my thigh.” He coos, rocking his leg up into you. “Let go, c’mon.”

The coil in your stomach wraps tighter around itself, Eddie’s rough words making you throw your head back in a silent moan as you finally come undone. He holds you close to him, an arm around your waist to help you ride out your orgasm, your arms around his shoulders, held in a tight embrace as he continues to grind his knee into your pussy.

“Oh that’s it, that’s my pretty fucking girl. So good for me, doing exactly as I ask you. So fucking good, baby. Just breathe—you got it. Good girl.”

His words somehow prolong your orgasm, your pussy convulsing around nothing, until all you can do is dig your nails into Eddie’s shoulders and cry.

When you come down, you’re languid, but renewed, wanting more. Both of your eyes are blown, heady with lust, and Eddie brings your mouth back to his, unable to stay away.

Cradling the back of your head, he licks into your mouth and you angle your head to kiss him deeper, hungry for more as you mewl into his mouth, scrambling against the wall. You tug at his t-shirt, pull him closer by his belt loops, and he moans at your show of control.

Sinking to your knees, you keep your eyes up and on Eddie as you watch him register your movement, his brows furrowing with exertion. He plucks his blood-soaked t-shirt off his body, drops of crimson staining his abdomen and his hands now.

You look up at him with wide eyes. He’s intimidating from this angle, tall and broad, but still lithe; ink and blood covering his pale chest and arms. You trace the scratches on his lower abdomen, shivers erupting on your skin at the realisation of how he really got them.

You kiss the still-red marks, tonguing over his v-line and lower abdomen, bluntly scratching at the smattering of hair that leads below his jeans.

He cups your chin tenderly, leaving behind blood. “Tommy begged for his life. Begged me not to kill him, but I did anyway. Made him bleed out right by the pool while Carol watched. For what he did to you.”

You should hate this. You should get off your knees and leave. But you can’t. Not when you’re one orgasm deep and you’re wet between the legs. Not when you’re about to worship this man.

You kiss his hand, then his stomach, leaving a trail of wet kisses over his abs, tracing the tip of your tongue over the red scratches. You move over, scratching your nails down his stomach to mirror the other side, leaving angry red marks.

Why should Carol be the only one to get to mark him?

He hisses through his teeth, hands hovering over your head hesitantly as you lick over the fresh marks with more kisses. “What? You jealous?” He laughs.

You answer him with another swipe at his v-line, red claw marks imprinting on his skin. The tent in his pants begs to be touched, and when you rub over his hard cock through his jeans, his thighs tremble.

“Can I suck your cock, Eddie?” You ask innocently. “Please?”

“Jesus fuckin—“ He grits out, bracing against the wall in front of him. “Go ahead, baby. Take my cock out, lemme feel your mouth.”

You bite back a smile at his eagerness as you undo his belt, shakily pulling down his jeans and boxers together to free his cock. You swallow, your skin heating at the sight of his cock; average length but the girth takes you off guard, his tip red and leaking pre cum.

He looks at you knowingly, like he knows he’s going to destroy you when the time comes, but until then, he’s going to bide his time with your mouth. He groans breathily when you stroke the length of him, using both hands to twist and pull, goosebumps erupting on his skin.

“Shit, shit, shit. That’s it. Squeeze a little tighter there—ah—fuck. Oh, that’s it, baby.”

You sweetly suck on his tip, licking up his pre cum. Eddie’s abs twitch when your tongue swipes over the vein on the underside of his cock, and you make a mental note to tease him with that. His hips jerk forward on instinct, pushing his cock deeper into your mouth, his hands hovering over your head.

“Like that, Eddie? Am I doing a good job?” You ask, kissing his tip.

“Yeah, baby. Such a good job like I knew you would. Need a little more.”

You work way down the shaft, laying wet, open mouthed kisses on his heavy cock, languidly slapping his tip against your tongue. Eddie’s chest flushes with exertion. He looks down at you with hooded eyes, his expression darkening when you take his hands and direct them to your head, silently asking him to take control.

“Show me what you want, Ed. Do it exactly how you wanna.” You murmur letting his cock slap your tongue.

You stay like that; mouth wide and tongue out for him to take the lead. A splitting grin takes over his face as he nods, gently gathering your hair on top of your head.

“My best girl.” He whispers.

He thrusts into your mouth slowly at first, tentatively testing the waters, but as your warm, wet mouth invites him in for more, his thrusts get deeper and more aggressive. Tears prick your eyes as his thick cock reaches the back of your throat with each rough thrust, his hands pulling your head forward.

“Fucking Christ, your mouth. So pretty with your lips stretched out around my cock, on your knees for me.”

You nod as he punctuates his sentence with a harsh thrust that makes you gag around him, and you feel him twitch in your mouth, spit and precum messily trailing down your chin, covering his balls and thighs in a slick sheen.

He wheezes, squeezing his eyes shut. “Yeah… you’re my filthy little girl, aren’t you? Love taking my cock any way I’ll give it to you, huh?” He lightly slaps your cheek, feels the vibration against his cock and throws his head back in pleasure, his hair a halo around his head.

“So pretty, so fucking pretty—my angel. My pretty little angel. A little wider—shit—just like that.” Eddie whines incoherently when you reach up and massage his balls, slick with your saliva while he holds you in place and fucks your mouth. “Thank you, baby—fuck. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Tears stream down your face, but you’re drunk on the taste of him, your pussy throbbing with his words and needy voice. You’re galvanised knowing that on your knees, you’re capable of reducing a man as powerful and terrifying as Eddie to this.

A whining, whimpering, mess.

He withdraws from your mouth with a drawn out groan, his cock twitching in front of your face. You glance up at him, a flush spreading from the centre of his chest to his neck, his ears and cheeks bright red, lips swollen from biting them.

“C’mere.” He murmurs, dragging you up by your throat—not even with enough force to reduce your airflow—but as a possessive gesture, a means of control.

He disregards the mess on your face and kisses you in a desperate clash of teeth and tongues and heavy breaths, his cock pressing against your tummy. He swallows your moans and whimpers with a light grip on your throat as he takes the breath from your lungs.

“Let's get you off your feet, what do you say?” He rasps.

You nod, hooking your arms around his neck as he sweeps you off your feet, dark gaze burning yours. He throws you on his creaky mattress, leaving you to crawl upward as he stalks towards you like you’re his prey.

Shoving your knees apart, he strokes your calves, laying gentle kisses on your now sore knees. “You trust me?”

You take a beat, making sure to run the scenarios through in your head. “Yes.”

He reaches for a knife from his bedside table, and your skin turns red hot, equal parts desire and terror mixing like a cocktail under your skin.

“Eyes on me, okay? Just relax.” He coos, kissing your forehead. “Not gonna hurt you.”

He settles between your legs, and despite you being the one fully clothed out of the two of you, you feel vulnerable but safely kept. He scrapes the blunt edge of the knife gently down your neck, circling your pulse point. It scratches against your collarbone as he continues its descent down in your skin.

You close your eyes as he hooks it around the neckline of your dress, and you feel him stall, remember his words.

Eyes on me.

“Good girl.” He breathes when you force yourself to look at him.

With a sharp tug of the knife, he cuts a jagged line down the centre of your dress, starting at your neckline and ending just above your belly button. You startle at the sudden movement and jump slightly but a hand on your hip holds you down. Slowly, he takes the two halves of the dress and rips with his bare hands all the way down until it falls open at your sides.

“Jesus Christ, you’re perfect.” Eddie rasps, trailing the knife back upwards.

“Don’t tease, Eddie.” You whine, shivering at the cold.

“Patience, my flower. I like to draw things out.”

You stiffen, the reminder of his extra curricular activities reminding you of who he is. He dips down and places a sweet kiss on your lips to absolve you of your worries, then with a tattooed hand, drags the knife between your breasts, then to the left. The sheets in your hands are the only traction you have as he circles your nipple with the knife, flicking the bud with the metal.

“One wrong move…” he reminds you. “One wrong move, and this could end terribly for you, couldn’t it?”

You whimper, nodding.

“Good thing you trust me. Better thing that I love you.”

He trails it down your stomach, watching the goosebumps appear on your skin as he travels south, the muscles under your skin jumping at the touch. The cold metal reaches your panties, scraping over your covered mound, and despite the imminent danger, you feel yourself dripping for him.

“You’re doing really good, baby. Proud of you.”

He goes further still, careful to always use the blunt edge of the knife, but with the weapon out of sight, you’re forced to hyper focus on the sensation, figure out which part is where. You cry out when the cold metal bumps against your puffy clit through your panties, your hips bucking.

Eddie laughs throatily, a wide grin on his face. “Oh, was that good? You liked that, didn’t you? My depraved little angel.”

“Yes, Eddie. Please, I need more.”

“That’s right, you do. Well done.”

You feel tension against the waistband of your panties before it snaps, your panties cut off at the legs. Eddie pulls you up roughly, dragging your panties off you and leaving you fully exposed and open to him. Gathering them in his hand, he brings them to his face, inhales deeply as his eyes roll back into his head.

”Fucked my hand over n’ over again with the panties I took from you. Wrapped around my cock pretending it was you, whispered your name when I came. You know that?”

His words make you squirm and he laughs knowingly. Gripping your chin gently, he tells you to open up so he can slip your panties into your mouth. The salty sweet taste of you floods your mouth, your slick coating your tongue and the cotton.

“You keep nice and quiet for me, I swear I’ll make it worth your while, baby. Can you be good for me?”

He’s in control and he knows it and it makes you writhe in pleasure. You nod eagerly, pussy fluttering at the prospect of what he has planned for you.

He slaps your cheek lightly again. “Good girl. Nice and quiet, yeah?”

He yanks you to the edge of the bed by your ankles and brings your legs to wrap around his waist, turning you as he lays on his back, moving up the bed.

“C’mon, baby. Come sit on my face, gimme that pretty pussy.”

You hesitate, feeling exposed and vulnerable, but he takes your hands in his, pulls you forward until you're straddling his waist. “C’mon. Let me taste you, baby. Please?” He coos.

Hooking two arms around you, he moves you up until you’re hovering above his face, the change in dynamic making your insides clench.

“Please, baby. Just wanna taste you. Please? Let me kiss that pretty pussy?” He whines, tugging on his cock.

You tentatively lower yourself onto his face, the only thing visible to you now, his upper face. He latches onto your pussy immediately, sucks your clit between his plump lips and your hips buck, trying to put some distance between you and the source of your pleasure. He moans loudly into your pussy, thick tongue and full mouth messily kissing your cunt, strong jaw anchoring you.

“Such a sweet fucking pussy, you’ve gotta be kiddin’ me… could get drunk on the taste of you, so fucking wet, dripping down my face—my God.” He whines, hooking his arms around your legs to keep you flush to him.

Your legs tremble around his face—his face—blissed out and so full of concentration. You lean down and push the hair off his forehead, and he moans in pleasure, sucking your clit harder as you pull slightly on his scalp.

“That’s it, baby. Grind on my face, use my tongue. Make yourself cum for me, baby. Grind on me.”

Your heart beats erratically as you slowly work your hips in circles on Eddie’s face, moans and whimpers muffled by the panties in your mouth. His hands reach up to squeeze your tits, pinching your nipples almost painfully and pleasure sparks at the base of your spine.

“C’mon, pretty girl. Make me proud. Cum for me.” He encourages, flicking your clit with his tongue. The sound of Eddie’s mouth and your wet pussy fill the room as you chase your release, melting into him while pleasure washes over you in waves.

You cum with a silent scream, head thrown back and focus on the feeling of Eddie’s hands on your tits and mouth lapping at you. You come crashing down, electricity crackling at the base of your spine as you pull on Eddie’s hair.

You fall onto your hands with blood thrumming in every single nerve ending, your hair sticking to your neck with exertion. Eddie lays a messy kiss on your clit before lifting you off him and gathers you in his arms.

He checks your face for signs of concern, but you’re utterly blissed out. Unpicking the panties from your mouth, he wipes the saliva from your chin to kiss you. You’re boneless in his arms, trusting him to hold you up, sweaty body flush against his as his mouth moves over yours. He consumes your being, wanting you from the inside out, your entire body vibrating with need, more so when you feel his cock jump between your legs.

“You’re so hard, Eddie. So thick.”

He swears under his breath as you tug at his cock, heavy and warm in your hand. He grips your throat, a smile making its way onto your lips as he regards you with a knowing look.

A look that he knows you’re his. That you’re just as twisted as he is.

He spins you around, your back flush to his tattooed chest and grips your chin to make you look at yourself in the mirror in front of you. You stroke him languidly, feeling his sticky precum coat the tips of your fingers while his fingers spread your pussy lips.

“Look at yourself.” He urges, kissing your cheek. “Look at how wrecked you are, spread out and naked for me. Look at how good we look together, my flower. Look.”

The sight in front of you makes your knees buckle. Next to Eddie’s guitar, is your reflection, blissed out with your hair matted to your face, legs spread wide while Eddie’s ringed fingers rub your clit. Behind you, Eddie watches the reflection, his tattooed chest and abdomen littered with scratches and bruises.

Both of you are stained with blood, handprints marking your throat, your hips, your tits, actual remnants of a crime on your bodies, mixing with sex.

“Keep your eyes on that mirror, baby. Whatever you do, do not take your eyes off that mirror. You got that?”

“Yeah, Eddie. Anything you want.”

He lays a kiss under your ear to soothe the sting of two thick fingers plunging into your pussy, your head lolling back. The slick coating your thighs and pussy makes it easy for him to slide in, the sting soothed by the pleasure of him hooking his fingers inside you.

“Ohh, I know you like that, don’t you, my girl? That feels good inside my pretty baby’s pussy, huh? You wanna close your eyes but you can’t, can you?” He coos mockingly, lightly slapping your cheek. “No, you can’t. Because you said you’d do anything I want. So you’re gonna stay right here…and I’m gonna finger this pretty little cunt to get you ready for my cock.”

“Eddie…” you whine, palming his cock. “That feels so good, your fingers… so thick.”

“I know, baby. I know.”

He withdraws his fingers and plunges them deep inside you with each word, drawing out your pleasure like a length of elastic; tension building and building precariously close to a snap. The heel of his palm rubs against your clit as his pace increases, a furious work of his wrist leaving you hanging onto his arm for dear life.

“Cum, baby. Come on, gimme another one, I know you can do it. Do it for me, baby, let me feel you squeeze my fingers.”

“Gonna cum, Eddie…so close.” You whimper.

You watch his biceps flex and his shiny, slick covered fingers as you come undone. You’re decidedly full, but not full enough, fluttering around his fingers wildly as he talks you through your release. Your eyes go hazy with ecstasy as you fight to keep them open, to watch his onslaught like you promised you would.

“Good girl, good fucking girl. Pretty eyes on me, yeah? Just breathe baby, you’re doing so good. So fucking good squeezing me like that. So pretty.”

When your heartbeat comes down, he kisses your cheek, holding his ring and middle fingers up to the light, your slick stretching between his fingers.

He brings them to your mouth. “Suck.” He says simply, gasping when your tongue presses against his fingers to lick the taste of yourself off him.

“Sweet?” He asks.

You nod around his fingers.

“Well done, baby. We’re not finished yet, though.”

With a large hand on your upper back, he pushes you down into his pillows, the smell of him surrounding you like a haze. His sheets are rumpled, but a welcome reprieve, they smell like him and in a way, it’s like laying on him.

Eddie’s large hands angle your hips upwards just slightly, the rest of you still face down on the mattress. You feel the blunt head of his cock slide up and down your slit, your sloppy cunt making him slip.

A sharp crack lands on your ass, making you jump, the pain soothed by a cool relief as Eddie massages the skin, pulling at it posessively. He squeezes you hard enough to leave bruises but it only spurs you on, the sick thought of Eddie possessing you, marking you—owning you—makes you drip onto his sheets.

“Eyes on me, remember?” He rasps from the exertion of controlling himself. “Keep those pretty eyes on me.”

He braces himself over you with toned arms, his legs bracketing yours as he pushes the fat head of his cock inside you, agonisingly slow. His broad chest flushes a deep crimson.

You feel him slide right back out of you, and try again, his lips between his teeth. “God fuckin’ damn it, you’re so tight, pushing me right back out.” He pushes in again, and you watch him mesmerised. “Let me in, angel, c’mon. Let me inside you, gimme that sweet cunt. C’mon.” He grunts.

Every inch stretches you out, punching the air from between your lungs. You’re completely immobilised and at Eddie's mercy, trembling as he sheathes himself inside you.

You gasp when he buries himself to the hilt, impossibly full and dizzy with pleasure. “Oh my God, Eddie, that’s deep. You’re so fucking deep inside me—so fucking big.” You sob, fluttering around his cock.

He drops his entire body weight on you, pushing you further into the mattress, deliciously constricting your airflow. He pulls your arms out in front of you and interlocks his fingers with yours.

You feel his chest vibrate when he speaks, a deep, quiet rumble that kisses the shell of your ear. “Yeah? That deep enough for my baby’s pussy, hm? Stretch you nice and good?”

You watch the carnal expression on his face as he slowly starts to grind into you, the angle bumping that spot deep inside you that makes your clit jump. You’re sensitive and pliant under him but it doesn’t stop him from leaning in close and snapping his hips, muttering filthy words into your ear.

He pushes a thumb into your mouth. “Such a warm, wet, perfect cunt. The things I did for this pussy, to make you mine—God.” He grits. “You make me fucking crazy you know that? This pussy makes me crazy.”

Every inch of his body presses against yours, your skin moulding to his, sweat slicked and sticky, both of your thighs covered in your slick.

“Love your cock, Eddie. Love how you fuck me. Please, Eddie. Want more, please.” You whine, pulling his hair above you.

He builds his pace steadily, his hips snapping into your while he sets a brutal rhythm, pressing you further into the mattress. The hot friction of your nipples rubbing against his sheets and his cock set your skin on fire.

You barely register Eddie angle your hips up all the way before wrapping an arm around you and pulling you up—flush against him.

“That’s better. Look at you—fucking ruined on my cock, aren’t you? Who else can fuck you like this? Who else makes you this fucking pathetic and desperate?”

“Nobody, Eddie. Nobody. Just you, only you fuck me like this.” You choke out, legs trembling.

With an arm around your waist to keep you steady, he hooks the other around your neck, effectively putting you in a light headlock. You’re so close to your release, so dizzy with pleasure that you’re on the verge of passing out. Your head lolls against Eddie’s shoulder and your eyes roll back, your face a sight with fat tears rolling down your cheeks.

The lack of airflow increases the pressure inside of your body, fire pooling low in your stomach, making you drip .

“That’s it, that’s it, there you go, there you fucking go. You like it when I choke you don’t you, my filthy little girl. Gonna make you cream all over my cock, want it soaking my thighs and balls, baby. Give it to me.”

You can barely form words, settling for a litany of, “Yes, yes, yes. Right there, Eddie, don’t stop, please, don’t stop.”

“Not gonna stop. Not until you’re crying. Now c’mon, gimme another one, let me feel this pretty pussy squeeze my cock, c’mon. Make me proud, pretty girl, cum for me.”

You hang on for dear life as he fucks you right into another orgasm, your legs trembling and pussy convulsing around him, but he doesn’t let up. Pounds you right through your orgasm, skin slapping against skin, finally letting go of your throat so you can breathe again.

“Good girl, good girl, good fucking girl, that’s it. There you go, just breathe—you got it. Just feel it, you got it, c’mon, keep going, keep going.”

White spots your vision as you ride out your orgasm and Eddie finally allows you to fall forward, draping his body over yours immediately. You pull at his hair to bring him closer, slowly grinding yourself against his cock as you come down, a panting, sweaty mess, drowning in bliss.

You angle your head to kiss him lazily, his lips leaving your mouth tingling, tongue licking into your mouth.

“Anyone ever tell you you’re really fucking intense, Ed?” You tease against his lips.

“Why? You hear somethin’?” He chuckles, kissing you deeply.

He pulls out of you, tugging at his slick cock as he turns you over onto your back. You’re both dishevelled, and desperate, chasing a higher and higher release.

You spread your legs and invite him to use your puffy, sensitive pussy, your thighs and hips covered in juices. He slides in easier this time, grinding all the way into the hilt so his pelvis bumps your clit, while his pick chain dangles in your face.

You whine, gripping the sheets for an anchor as he starts to drive into you with a rough snap of his hips.

“Eddie…” you whine. “Feel so good, so deep.” You whimper.

“Yeah?” He grins, dimple splitting his cheek. He presses his hand into your stomach, withdrawing his cock almost all the way out and slamming back inside again. “Right here? You feel me there? Nice and deep inside this pretty angel cunt, made for me to fuck, isn’t it?”

“Just for you, Eddie. Just for you.” You chant.

Your slick smears everywhere, coating Eddie’s lower stomach and happy trail, his pelvis and balls, everything a filthy, sticky mess and you’re in heaven.

You fist your hands into the pillow next to you, spot a flash of black and white. Pulling on the material, you reveal another mask, and your heart swoops nervously, your body stiffening.

“You’re okay, baby. Nothin’ to be scared of—here.” He reassures you, slipping the hood on. It takes your breath away, having to reconcile Eddie’s body with the mask, but when he grinds his cock deep inside you, you snap back. “Just me. Just Eddie.”

You reach for his shoulders and spread your legs to invite him closer, wanting to feel more of him. Eddie smiles behind the mask, knows the reaction you have to it—to him—to the implications. He hisses at the feel of your fingernails digging into his back, cock twitching at your possessiveness.

“You like that don’t you, baby? I know you like seeing me with the mask on, I can feel you fucking creaming on my cock. Makes you horny doesn’t it, knowing I killed for you? You’re twisted. Filthy.”

You whine for him incoherently, feeling the muscles in his back flex and contract as he fucks you deep and fast, his creaky bed matching his rhythm. The mask cuts off Eddie’s breathing, makes it hard to inhale properly but finally having you under him, writhing and moaning his name the way he’s dreamed of makes him whimper.

“Wanna see you, Eddie. Please. Wanna see your face.” You cry, reaching for his mask.

He dodges your hands, pins them above your head with his stronger ones. “Tell me you’re mine first.” He grunts. “Tell me you’re fucking mine.”

“I’m yours, Eddie. I’m fucking yours, I’m all yours.” You offer freely, squeezing his hands.

He slides the hood off, forehead shiny with sweat, bangs matted to his face as he drops his entire body weight on you, pinning your hands again.

“That’s right. Mine to touch. Mine to taste. Mine to fuck. All mine.”

You’re dizzy with pleasure, taking whatever he gives you, your pussy squelching with each brutal pass of Eddie’s thick cock. “All yours, Eddie.”

“Tell me I’m yours.” He pants needily, using his body to drive you forward.

“You’re mine, Eddie.” You sob, raking your nails violently down his back to prove it. “You’re mine. You’re mine, Eddie.”

His cock jumps inside you, both of you closer to your release. “That’s right. You could try to forget any of this happened. But we both know, baby. You love this too much.”

“God—Eddie. Please. Please, please…”

“Please what? You losin’ your words, now? So drunk on my cock filling you up, you can’t think straight?” He slaps your pussy lightly, clit puffy and sensitive.

He grips your throat, making your head fall back and tongue loll out of your mouth uselessly. In a moment of pure possession, he lets a trail of his saliva drip into your mouth, kisses you deeply and thoroughly until you’re seeing stars and on the precipice.

“Good thing I can think for the both of us, huh? Dunno what you’d do without me, my dumb little angel. Need me to protect you, don’t you? I know, baby, I know. I can give you what you need, don’t worry.”

You’re reduced to blissful silence as Eddie bridges the gap between you and your release, his own, right on the edge as well.

“Gonna come, Eddie. So close, please, please, make me cum. I love it, I love you. I love you. I love you—Eddie, fuck.” You sob, hanging onto his back, crescent shaped welts marking his skin.

“Gonna make you mine, baby. Gonna make all this worth it. All of it, just a little more, yeah?” He pants, rhythm turning sloppy.

“Yeah. Make me yours, Eddie. Please. Wanna be yours.”

He drops his entire body weight against you, your stomachs pressing together as he buries his face into the crook of your neck.

“Gonna cum inside this pretty pussy, baby. Make you mine forever, yeah?”

You nod, biting down on Eddie’s shoulder as you cum, locking your legs around his waist to pull him in deeper. You convulse around his cock, pulling him impossibly close. Eddie moans into your neck as he reaches his release, teeth sinking into the skin below your ear as he cums deep inside you, his balls nestled against your ass.

He thrusts shallowly inside you, shuddering as you both come down, sweating and entirely ruined. Brushing the sweaty hair off your face, he kisses you deeply, pulling away with dopey eyes.

“Proud of you, baby. You did really good. Thank you.”

Your eyes grow heavy, and you’re content to lean on him on the way to the cramped bathroom, have him wash the blood off both of your bodies. You register it against the white porcelain of the bathtub as it circles the drain.

It takes a few weeks and slowly but surely, Hawkins returns back to normal. A week-long procession of back-to-back funerals are grim, your guilty conscience making you sick, but the sicker part of you wonders what else you could have Eddie do.

Two weeks after Andy Clayton’s funeral, you sit in the backseat of Steve’s BMW and watch the houses go by. You narrow your eyes, tapping Eddie on the shoulder once the white house comes into view.

“That’s the house, Eddie.”

“You sure, Sweetheart?” He asks, squeezing your hand.

“Positive. Jenny told me she saw it happen, Father Elijah with that little boy.”

“Alright. You heard her, Harrington. Let’s go.” He inhales sharply, getting out of the car.

You join them outside, tugging on Eddie’s hands, stopping him as he goes to put his mask on. “You’ll be careful, won’t you, baby?”

“Always am.” He smiles, bending down to kiss you.

——————————————————————————

tags: @fezcoismypimp @urlocaltwink @cottoncandywings @stardancerluv @hoe-for-fictional-men @momsaysimpunkrock @southside-serpent-bae @umm-megan @cozyyellowcardigan @binanas @imasimptoowth @adamdrivershairfluffer @a-laura @rosecolorgardens

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson ff #eddie munson fics #ghostface eddie #amber writes

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gh0stsp1d3r · 5 months

Note

hi can u make a X reader oneshot about Ethan Landry where the reader knows about him being ghostface and still be willing to fuck without him knowing that she knows? and have her be as obsessed with Ethan as he is with her :))

𝒲𝓇ℴ𝓃𝑔

18+, mdni alot of making out, p in v, fem!reader, oral (fem!receiving), you take Ethan’s virginity, mention of murder

Your eyes widened as you picked up the mask with shaky hands. You realized the knife shining underneath the rest of the clothes as well. Fuck. Shit. Okay. Just put it back before he comes back, you thought.

With a sense of urgency, you rummaged through his drawer, your fingers brushing past his clothes and you went to the bottom of the drawer, burying it underneath all the clothes and closing the drawer.

He had told you to get something for him, not snoop around. You wiped your sweaty palms on your pants, trying to ignore how your friend was fucking ghostface.

Once you found what he actually asked for you to get, you took a deep breath before stepping into the living room.

You silently handed it to him. He noticed your odd behavior and quirked an eyebrow at you.

Maybe it was a Halloween mask or something. But that wouldn’t explain the knife. The thoughts ran in your mind, you would have to find out more later.

You sat back down on the couch with the group, but you couldn't focus on the movie. All you could focus on was Ethan.

You have had a crush on Ethan for a long time now, with feelings bordering on obsession.

You glanced at him, hoping he wouldn't notice your staring. He did however, turning his head to you. Your head snapped back to the TV quickly.

Fuck, fuck. What if he knew that you knew something? What if you were his next target? Although you wouldn’t mind that so much.

You avoided him for a few days, and the worst part? You missed him. God, you missed him. It felt wrong, it was wrong. You both usually talked every day, so he knew something was up.

—

“Y/n?” The familiar voice of Ethan said from behind you.

You stood, tensing up before turning around at his voice. This party was the last place you wanted to see him.

“Ethan.” You said, giving him a small smile. He was wearing a robot cardboard costume, it was dorky but cute. He also had a jacket tied around his waist. He took off the headpiece of his costume and held it by his side.

“Are you okay? I called you… like 5 times.” He asked you.

“Uh, yeah. Sorry, I’ve been busy. But, how’s uh, Econ? And your other classes?”

“It’s going good. Professors really getting on my nerves though.” He laughed.

You smiled at him, you missed his laugh, his smile, his entire face. It was wrong.

You both stayed silent for a while, awkwardly standing and looking at each other.

You began to talk again, then suddenly, some drunk guy ran into you, spilling alcohol all on your clothes.

You gasped, he mumbled a small apology and slipped past. You flicked him off and sighed heavily, looking at your shirt. Of course it happened while you dressed up as an Angel.

“Shit.” Ethan said, his eyes widened and his eyes went over your body.

“Asshole.” You mumbled, making your way upstairs. Ethan followed behind you upstairs and into the bathroom.

He opened up a cabinet, handing you a rag.

“Thanks.” You mumbled, trying your best to wipe it.

“Uh.. here.” He began to untie the jacket around his waist.

“It’s fine, Eth-“ but he ignored it, putting the jacket on your shoulders and zipping it up, biting his bottom lip on the process.

You smiled at him, his hands stopped and stayed for a moment. You stared at him, and he stared at you back. Suddenly, he leaned in, cupping your face as he kissed you.

Your hands went to his shoulders, kissing him back. The electricity coursing through your veins seemed to intensify as the softness of his lips met yours.

His touch sent shivers down your spine, and your heart raced with anticipation. As your lips brushed against his, you savored the taste of him, it felt like your dreams coming true.

You backed up against the counter, hopping on it and never leaving his lips once. The kiss turned from gentle and slow to a sloppy make out.

“Room?” You asked breathlessly against your lips.

“I’m a… a virgin...” He mumbled quietly and looked down at the ground, slightly ashamed.

“I know.” You whispered back. He smiled at you.

You both went out into the hallway, quickly opening an empty room.

He shut and locked the door behind him, his eyes landed on you and his lips were back on you again.

Softly he pushed you down on the bed, you moaned into his mouth when he said his tongue in your mouth.

You took notice of the tent in his pants, you moved away from the kiss to unbutton his pants. He helped and pulled them down, throwing them somewhere in the room. Then he looked at the shirt, his jacket. You took off your shirt, bra, and his jacket.

But then he stopped you when you began to take off your pants.

“Can you… wear my jacket?” He asked shyly.

You smiled at him. Cute. You put his jacket back on, and then began to take off your pants. He threw his shirt off and you both were only left in underwear.

He gave you a peck on your lips, and his lips trailed down your body. He kissed your neck, then biting and sucking on the flesh. He took time to appreciate and savor you, the person who he’s been obsessed with the moment he laid his eyes on you.

He then made his way down to your pussy, pulling off your underwear and looking up at you for a second. He was on his knees and your legs were on the edge of the bed.

He moved his mouth to your cunt, kitten licking it at first to test the waters. A mewl came from your mouth, and for some one who’s a virgin, he ate pussy good. His tongue was focused on your clit, licking it repeatedly as your hands were buried in his hair, pulling and tugging at the brown locks.

He ate like a starved man given food. You cried out his name, and you were thankful for the booming music downstairs.

You were close, and he didn’t care. His tongue worked faster on your clit, you moaned out his name once more and came on his face. He finally left your pussy then, looking at you and licking your juices off his tongue with a smirk.

You smiled at him, and he moved up to kiss you again, cupping your face. You could taste yourself on him.

He removed his angry cock out his boxers finally, letting out a groan as he stroked it in front of you for a moment. He wasn’t small, by any means. He was bigger than you expected if anything. You were shocked at the size.

He put it to your entrance, looking at your face as he slowly slide into your warmness. You both let out moans, he stayed still inside you for a moment to let you adjust and then started to move.

He felt like he could bust right then and there. But he wanted this to be a better experience, so he tried his best to hold his orgasm back for a while.

You moaned as he slid out and back into you, his first few thrusts were sloppy but he was a quick learner. He got the hang of if.

Fuck, it was wrong but you loved it. You loved how his curls bounced on his face, his moans and groans slipping out his mouth, his eyebrows furrowed, and how his hips met yours.

“E-eth!” You cried out, he loved the way you called out his name. He loved how you laid underneath him, melting under him. In his mind you, had no clue about his plans for your friends, or how bad of a person he was, or how many people he’s killed.

But you did. It was wrong, but how could something so wrong feel so good?

You came without warning, he groaned and couldn’t help it anymore. He came inside of you.

You whined as he pulled out.

“I know, I know. Sorry.” He said quietly, and he laid down next to you.

“Would now be a good time to tell you I like you?” You mumbled.

He laughed quietly. “I like you too.”

#ethan landry smut #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry x fem!reader #ethan landry #ethan kirsch #ethan kirsch x reader #jack champion x reader #jack champion smut

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spaghettiposts · 3 months

Text

A Fools Love

Ghostface!Tara x Reader

Summary: You're a fool who falls in love with Tara Carpenter, a fool who's hopelessly devoted to her. No matter what.

Warnings: Dark themes, blood mention, stitching, Tara being a cold-blooded killer, attempts at writing slight horror (not really), and minor fluff.

Words: 1.4k

Your mind was unresponsive as you ran through the late streets of New York. Only having one goal in mind; Find Tara.

Streetlights were the only light keeping you from tripping on hazardous placed trash bags—or people. It was late, later than you’d be awake. Never for Tara though, and you knew perfectly well what she was doing.

You tried your best not to dwell on the way your stomach churned, passing it off as concern. And if your eyes watered, you’d wipe them away. Someone had to stay strong.

Wear a hoodie, be discreet.

Is what she told you. You zipped up your sweater, tossing over the hood and placing the first aid kit into your pockets.

Gloves too.

You climbed up the ladder from the side of the building. Darkness overlooked where you stood, nobody could possibly see you and if they did you weren’t easily identifiable.

This was fine.

Tara always kept you safe, your safety was her number one priority even before her own. Which drove you insane, but drew you further into her heart. Despite her problems, you couldn’t deny the unconditional love you had for her. Even at the expense of loving a cold blooded killer.

So yes, Tara kept you safe. She was never one to mess around with these things, you doubted she could with how long she had been doing it. Killing sprees left and right.

You hesitated at your words, pausing. Shaking your head firmly, you corrected your mind. No, Tara wasn’t a monster. Instead, you replayed moments from how well she had been doing these past months. How she tried, endured, and concurred that hunger inside of her.

If she did, you wouldn’t be here.

Slip-ups happened to everyone, this just happened to be a more serious—lawbreaking—one.

Potentially, you didn’t know the exact details of what happened that was so severe your girlfriend insisted you make an appearance. An odd request that left your heart pounding wildly, this never happened. The last message she left on your phone was one reminding you to bring a first aid kit.

Her location is already pinned on your phone, as was yours in hers. A safety precaution. Meaning you had no trouble finding the brunette.

You lifted your fist to knock on the window after making sure it was the right one. Immediately the curtains withdrew, allowing you to see her face. Tara sighed in relief, letting out a shaky breath. Her posture relaxed instantly, and you briefly heard the sound of a knife clattering.

Within seconds she tugged on your wrist, pulling you inside. Before you had the opportunity to ask any questions her lips were on yours, a hand cupping your jaw. You let out a gasp in surprise at the intensity of the kiss, falling back into the familiar pattern of her lips on yours, trying your best to match her need.

But then you realized where you were. More specifically with who you were with, Tara who’s hands weren’t the soft ones you loved to feel but instead masked behind those cold gloves she wore. Gently, you pushed at her shoulders.

Tara furrowed her eyebrows, a glimmer of hurt flashing in her eyes. She tried to push back into you only to be met by denial. You whispered a small ‘not now’, heart clenching at the familiar black robes on her.

The smaller girl bit her lip, understanding, and wandered off. You sighed, peering outside to make sure no one could’ve seen before locking the window; pulling the curtains closed.

It didn’t take long to locate Tara again. You found her leaning against the wall next to the room where you presumed the crime scene occurred. Another sigh left your lips as you tried to make an understanding of what you were dealing with.

“I slit her throat before she could…feel it.” You heard her mutter. Something she’d do to reassure your feelings. Inform you. You didn’t know if it comforted you or made you feel worse. Either way, you nodded, swallowing down whatever you were feeling.

Noticing how uncharacteristically shifty she was acting, you looked downwards. Her hands subtly turn away from you, the cloth sticking to her skin. Was that dampness?

“Tara, what the fuck?” You seethed, grabbing her cloth-covered hand. Tara winced as you lifted the sleeve to find her poorly wrapped arm. Blood stained the gauze and you wondered if any traces of it were left. Your chest heaved as you looked around the room—towards the floorboards, towards any surface that could’ve been incriminatingly laced with your girlfriend's blood. “How—? What happened, you said you’d be careful!”

Tara huffed, pulling her arm away to hold it, “I am careful. The bitch fought back.”

“You told me she didn’t feel it.” You raised an eyebrow, that bubble of irritation forming in the pit of your stomach.

“It was a quick death, a microsecond is what she felt.” Tara spat, shoving her shoulder into your own as she walked into the bathroom. “Right now that isn’t the problem.”

You wanted to scream, yell, throw something, break something. Right now that wasn’t the problem my ass–Clenching your fists and letting out a heavy breath, you followed your fleeing girlfriend. She was perched against the bathroom wall, squeezing at her wrist which drew you immediate concern. You hated how easy it was to love her.

You could tell she was in pain–hell, you could see it. Through the bandages, you could see how deep the cut was. Undoubtedly, she’d need stitches for it. Which is why, despite the heated frustration you felt, you let it go. Sliding down the wall next to her, you crossed your legs, taking her arm in your lap. Before she could protest, you waved the box in your hands from earlier.

Opening the kit you begin your work, unwrapping the gauze and placing it in a bag. Your face scrunched as you were met with the sight. Not wanting to waste any time, you grabbed the needle, silently apologizing for what you were about to do. Tara never liked looking at her injuries, they reminded her of failure. You tried your best to understand it and knew how she felt when her head came to rest on your shoulder, nuzzling her face further into you. She didn’t want to look.

How a psychotic killer could be this adorable was almost laughable.

“Comfy?” You asked.

“Mhmm.”

But she was yours, so you didn’t laugh. Tilting your head, you pressed a kiss on her forehead, cutting the last thread. Tara mumbled what you believed was a thank you before rolling up her sleeve again. When her fingers inched closer to yours, you didn’t hesitate to intertwine them. How could something so wrong feel so right?

Another thing you would never understand.

“I think– I think our blood might be mixed.” Tara huffed on your neck, sending shivers down your spine and worries through your mind. She squeezed your hand before you could get too lost, “There’s…two options.” You squeezed back.

“We could burn the place, or sneak her out and bury her in the woods.” She explained shakily.

You shook your head, leaning the rest of your weight back on the wall. This was crazy, this was why you stayed home. Anything could happen, multiple possibilities but all you could see when you closed your eyes was Tara being pushed in the back of a police car. Away from you, gone. Forever. And maybe you were crazy too, crazy enough to want her to stay.

Your heart pounded against your chest as you closed your eyes, leaning back against the tiles. The sounds of sirens echoing close and far off simultaneously. Your mind raced, as the seconds of calmness that had only recently surrounded you felt all too fleeting. Anything could happen, multiple possibilities but all you could see when you closed your eyes was Tara being pushed in the back of a police car. Away from you, gone. Forever. And maybe you were crazy too, crazy enough to want her to stay.

But your heart had made its decision, of whom it belonged. For your heart was traitorous to Tara Carpenter. Completely and sinfully loyal to her. No matter what.

And if Tara wanted to burn the apartment.

You’d hand her the match.

#tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter #scream franchise #scream movie #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x female reader #tara carpenter x y/n #wlw #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #jenna marie ortega

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simpforboys · 6 months

Text

always been you

ghostface!rafe cameron x fem!reader

summary: being a famous news reporter, your coverage quickly began to focus directly on the Ghostface killings. little did you know the masked killer was closer to you than you thought.

warnings: dark/canon!rafe, dark!reader, sociopathic tendencies, rough smut, choking, dirty talk, creampie, sexual sadism (both parties consent), knife kink, mask kink, swearing, mentions of stalking, toxic (?) relationship, blood, murder, drug use, smoking cigs

not proof read, please don’t read if cannot handle the warnings. this is something not usually like my writing and i wanted to test it out, so let me know what you guys think !

happy october my loves :3

the blood that splattered against Rafe’s mask was euphoric to him, the stress and anger taken from his body.

the light that left his victim’s eyes as they slipped into their everlasting slumber sent shivers down his cold spine as he dropped the body on the tiled floor.

“you’ll never be around my girl ever again.”

Michael, a 22 year old frat boy who suddenly became obsessed with you during a party, was one that frightened you more than your boyfriend.

Michael was stalker-ish, following you to every class in hopes to get a glance of you between hours. he would show up to every single place you were, and after expressing to Rafe how eery he made you, Rafe just told you, “i’ll take care of it.”

you didn’t exactly know what he meant by that, not that you really cared.

it was a common occurrence. a person would piss you off or annoy you and Rafe would simply “take care of it”.

you believed something was suspicious when the people began to go missing and a reappearance of a masked killer was in the news every week, and deep in the pit of your stomach was excitement.

a mystery as to whom the killer was, a mystery as to what they wanted in the Outer Banks. it didn’t help that you were constantly surrounded the media, as you were the leading reporter around the town.

“Welcome back to channel 10 news, i’m Y/n L/n and today we’re at the crime scene of the masked killer who goes by the name of Ghostface…”

a chill went down Rafe’s spine as he sat on your shared bed, twirling the handle of the knife against his thigh as he watched the news intently.

you, his gorgeous girlfriend, reporting on the crime he committed last night while you slept softly.

were you as sinister, too? the gorgeous and twisted smile on your face as you reported the case made Rafe wonder.

he took the large kitchen knife and wiped the blood onto his jeans, the substance staining his clothes as he watched intently.

“and be careful, citizens of Outer Banks. Ghostface is still out there…”

your words rung in Rafe’s ears as the channel cut back to the people sitting in the station. Rafe grabbed his bag of cocaine that was left on the wood coffee table, putting the powder on his finger as he snorted it.

a few hours later, Rafe was sprawled out on your shared couch. one arm tucked behind his head, the other laying lazily on his side.

your keys rattled as you entered your shared home, letting out a yawn as you put your coat on the coatrack.

kicking off your heels, you approached Rafe, who was dead asleep. you threw your purse on the arm chair, kissing your boyfriend’s forehead.

he stirred in his sleep as you lit a cigarette, inhaling the smoke before blowing it out gently. you stood in the kitchen, wanting to feel your boyfriend hold you, but not wanting to wake him up.

walking into your shared bedroom, you opened the closet door. shuffling through the walk-in, your eyes scanned the clothes in search for a comfier outfit.

but when your eyes landed on a mask, a Ghostface mask, you could feel your heart stammer in your chest.

“y/n?”

Rafe’s voice scared you, making you jump slightly. the cigarette hung low on your nude-stained lips as you picked up the mask.

“what’s this, Rafe?”

Rafe eyed you, not knowing what to say. his pulse began to rise, his heart thumping nervously against his chest.

“i got it at the halloween store. guess they’re tryna have everyone be Ghostface.”

Rafe answered, leaning against the doorframe with his arm raised above his head. you cocked your eyebrow at him, but a naughty idea twisted into your mind.

you walked over to your boyfriend, putting the mask on over his head. you bit your lip, feeling your pussy tingle from the fantasy.

with Rafe’s flexing biceps as he leaned his head to the side, staring at you curiously, he watched as you subconsciously rubbed your legs together.

“is my naughty girl getting turned on?”

Rafe questioned you, his large hands trailing slowly down to your ass before squeezing it in his palms.

you nod, biting your bottom lip as Rafe suddenly walks you backwards onto your shared bed. a small noise escapes your desperate lips as you fall onto the plush bedding.

Rafe’s hand trails painfully slow down your face, dragging down to your neck, his cock swelling at the thought of how easy it would be to kill you.

your pretty neck so perfect for his hand, his knife, his pleasure.

as your eyes fluttered shut, all you could hear was Rafe’s staggered breathing behind the mask. within moments, a sharp, cold object was placed against your neck.

Rafe was beyond happy you couldn’t see his face, because the growing lust and feverish tendencies were driving him insane.

using his mask, his knife, his girl the way he pleased. and you never suspected a god damn thing, never suspected he was the ravenous murderer of the Outer Banks.

a gentle sigh escaped from your throat, realizing how Rafe was toying with your life for the sake of his pleasure.

the sharp edge of the knife gradually popped off each button of your blouse, your chest slowly rising and falling as your pupils were blown out wide.

you watched the murderous object trail down your clothes, so desperate to dig into your skin.

“Rafe-“ you panted out, the knife completely tearing your skirt apart.

but Rafe didn’t respond, too lost in the way your body was so reactive to him. so reactive to someone who could kill you easily.

your black panties were quickly shred with the skirt and Rafe felt himself pulling his pants down just enough for his throbbing cock to spring out.

he wasted no time in shoving his cock deeply into you, his knife angled directly where your vaginal walls swallowed his cock.

he gently pressed the knife harder into your skin, making you flinch from the stinging. your blood began to slowly trickle down your pelvis, and the sight made Rafe go feral.

his hips moved quickly against yours, his hand placed directly on your wound. moans escaped your mouth as you played with your breasts.

“does that hurt?”

Rafe asked you quietly, his eyes still fixated on your wound as his hips relentlessly pounded into you.

when you didn’t respond, Rafe took the knife and cut a little more onto your skin.

“fuck, Rafe! yes it hurts,” you choked out. tears built in your eyes, your pussy throbbing.

“good. i want it to fucking hurt.”

Rafe’s voice was rough and coarse, way too lost in his fantasy. his other hand rubbed your clit harshly, his eyes fixated on the way your bodies met.

Rafe snapped out of his gaze when your hand gripped his wrist tightly, his eyes going up to your face.

you took Rafe’s wrist and brought it up to your neck, his fingers closing on your throat.

“yeah? my dirty girl wants me to choke her while i fuck her dumb in my mask?”

your pussy clenched around his throbbing cock at his dirty talk. your eyes squeezed shut as you let out a breathy whine, the pain from your cut adding to your pleasure.

your legs began to shake as you came, your juices soaking his cock as he shot his cum into your womb.

“fucking take that cum.”

Rafe cooed, slapping your ass harshly, a red hand print tattooing onto your skin.

your chest was rising and falling as your boyfriend slid his cock out of you, your skin stinging as Rafe took the mask off.

his hair was matted onto his forehead, sweat dripping down onto his neck. in one swift motion, Rafe leaned down and licked the blood from your wound. he then walked to the bathroom, shoving his cock back into his pants.

you laid on the bed still, tired eyes as Rafe reentered the bedroom. he had a damp washcloth and bandage, his eyes trailing at your other scarred skin as he cleaned up your wound.

once he was finished with aftercare, he stroked your cheek gently. “my good girl.”

———————————————————————

the next morning came too quick. you woke tiredly, snoozing your alarm clock as you fought the strong urge to go back to sleep.

but when you didn’t feel Rafe’s arm around you, or his warmth, or his presence, you sat up in the dark room.

you turned on your bedside lamp, your phone reading four am. you rubbed the sleep from your eyes as you stood up, your legs sore, along with the new scar.

your feet padded quietly against the wooden floor as the light was on in the kitchen. your heart began to pound against your chest as the figure was standing next to the sink, the sound of the water pouring from the spout the only noise in the whole apartment.

“Rafe?”

you asked softly, the tall figure turning around. there stood a man in all black, a bloodied knife in his hands with blood splattered on his tanned skin.

in the Ghostface mask, in the kitchen, stood the killer. but when Rafe saw how you didn’t seem frightened, but yawned at the sight, he cocked his head to the side.

“if you’re going to be cleaning your murder weapons in the night can you at least make me a cup of coffee?”

your words seemed to hit him like a truck, as you approached the tall figure and took the mask off his head. Rafe’s jaw was gaped slightly open as he stared at you in shock.

“what…”

“of course i know you’re Ghostface, Rafe. i’m not a fucking idiot. you’re getting really sloppy with your kills lately. especially when i told you about that one guy stalking me and he randomly got murdered days later? i would’ve at least waited a month.”

you said nonchalantly, grabbing a mug as you poured water in your keurig. Rafe was in disbelief. he felt stupid for not expecting you to suspect him, let alone know.

“you- you don’t care?” Rafe asked, crossing his arms over his chest as he stared at you.

“why would i? you would’ve killed me by now if you really wanted to. plus i get something out of it, i get annoying people out of the way and get news to cover.”

the whole situation was shocking Rafe. he couldn’t believe you just didn’t care.

“i mean i’ve thought about killing people before but never acted on it. but when you first started murdering people, i didn’t know until the first few months. but with news coverage comes investigating, and i’ve known you were the famous masked killer for months.”

you didn’t say another word, just stirring your coffee as you left the kitchen and walked back into your bedroom.

“try to get some sleep, yeah?” you called out.

and Rafe stood still in the kitchen, his mind racing a million thoughts, but one that wouldn’t escape his mind.

you were crazy too.

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jasminexox5 · 6 months

Text

The Sequel | Na Jaemin + Lee Jeno

warnings: ghostface!jeno and jaemin, phone sex operator, sub!reader, dollification, knife play, masterbation, degradation, stalker?

An alert popped up on your computer that someone had joined the call. Jeno hadn’t said anything about someone else joining the call; that’s when you started to panic. Mind wandering, thinking it could be anyone in the world that has found the link to the call. Taking a deep breath before looking at the screen to see who it really was. A man dressed in all black, leaning back in his chair, dressed in a ghostface mask, filled your screen. Even under his mask, you could tell that he was smirking as he saw the panic on your face through the eye holes of the mask.

Toned muscles flexed under his compression shirt as he folded his arms over his chest, flexing the muscles in his upper body and thick arms. You didn’t know where to look with two men on your screen; it was a dream come true. Feeling yourself already starting to get wet, rubbing your thighs together for some friction as your eyes fawn his thick thighs. It was obvious that he spent hours in the gym to achieve this goal, loving how every girl that he worked with drooled over his god-like body.

‘Someone is happy to see me.'

Jaemin chuckled at the way you were getting carried away, foaming at the mouth over his body. The teasing tone was already having an effect on you; this was going to be a long night. He stretched his legs out in front of him, letting you have a better view of his bulge under his cargo. Fuck this call. Aching and begging for Jaemin to be in the room with you, not over a call.

‘Are you going to behave for us? You know what happens when you don’t, baby girl.

Jaemin got close to the screen as he talked to you, waiting for your reply holding his mask down not letting you see his face underneath. You nodded your head vigorously before he sat back in his chair and started to play with a blade, catching all of your attention. Biting your bottom lip, trying to hold the moan back, but it failed. Both men heard you.

‘Did we say you could speak? You know good girls don’t speak without permission

Jeno’s voice boomed through the speakers of your laptop, making fear rush through your veins. No one knew what he was going to do next; he was unpredictable, but that’s what made him so popular. You may look scared, but you were turned on, only wanting more. Heartbeat thumping in your ears fills the silent room.

‘Open your legs.’

Parting your legs, letting both men see your dripping core—all for the men sitting on the other side of the screen, letting them do anything they pleased. Wetness dripped down onto the bed below you trying to hide from them but it was too late. Cheeks warm with arousal watching the screen though eyelashes coated in mascara. Make-up soon to be ruined by your tears falling down your cheeks.

‘Go on, you know you want to…’

Pussy glistening in the faux light from the laptop ghosting your fingers over your clit bucking your hips up into nothing. Both of the men had the perfect angle to watch you from licking their lips only dreaming of what they would actually do to you if you were in the room with them. Taking turns to have their fingers in you knuckle deep whilst the other holds your shaking body close, wiping your tears away.

The sounds of your wet pussy filled the room as your fingers rubbed your clit in circles gasping for air as the pleasure started to build up. Craning your neck back into the pillow, closing your eyes tightly as the numb feeling in your legs started. Forgetting about the men on the other side of the screen until you made eye contact with them once again.

‘Thought you were meant to stay in character darling’

Jaemin had a way with words but you loved it, he could say one sentence to you leaving you gasping. Watching the way the muscles in Jeno’s arms flexed even under his gloves you could see the way his veins were flexing as he played with the blade in his hand. Jeno saw the way your eyes lit up as he played with the blade.

‘Aww honey, need me to hold this pretty thing to your neck?’

You are glad you didn’t look yourself in the mirror at the time as you looked so fucked out listening to Jeno. Agreeing to anything he was saying to you at this point. He had you right where he wanted, on edge begging him for more. Jeno and Jaemin made eye contact agreeing on their next move on you. They knew you were going to agree with anything they had to ask you now.

‘Princess?’

Looking up at the screen through your eyelashes, eyes glossy holding back tears from falling. Make-up now messed up when the two men haven’t even started to play with you yet. Your heart was thumping against your chest waiting on him saying something, the anticipation was killing you.

‘How about we play a game of hide and seek? Give you five minutes to try and find us, if you don’t we get to fuck you how we want all night’

Your heart sank. How did they know where you lived? Do they already know you? How are they getting into your house? The idea did sound so hot though, running after two men that could have you screaming. Both ways. Letting out a breathy moan as you agreed to it erupts a chuckle from both men. Thinking about it, the room they were taking the call in looked familiar.

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perlelune · 10 months

Text

Tag, You’re It | Ethan Landry | vi.

Happy, carefree college days meet their abrupt end when every guy who approaches you mysteriously turns up dead.

Warnings: NON-CON, Stalking, Bimbo!Reader, Clueless Reader, Loss of Virginity, Incel Ethan, Cheerleader Reader, Skin Carving (w/knife), Canon Typical Slashing, Voyeurism, Kidnapping, Forced Masturbation, Filming, Blackmail

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

"You know you shouldn’t lead him on like that," Mindy muses from your bed, her eyes not lifting from the Stephen King novel she’s engrossed in.

You place your phone above the vanity drawer after hanging up. You just decided on another study meetup with Ethan.

It’s been a few weeks since he began tutoring you. There’s been a sharp improvement in your grades and you’re starting to believe that maybe you’ll be able to graduate just like the rest of your friends.

Before, all those things felt as unreachable as the stars in the sky. But Ethan, with his kindness and unlimited supply of patience, made it a reality.

Sure, you won’t be a top student anytime soon, but at least now there’s hope of you not failing the course and falling behind.

"What? I’m not leading him on. Ethan and I are just friends," you defend, puckering your lips as you apply the finishing touches to your makeup before the big game. Your gaze keeps bouncing to the clock. The playoffs begin in a little less than an hour.

Tensions are high tonight. This is no regular game as whichever team wins will go on to compete in the national championship.

It’s one of the reasons Chad and most of the guys on the team have been in a weird mood all week.

Besides, honor’s at stake when a team plays on their own turf.

The pressure’s been off the charts for the cheer squad too, Alana having run the team into the ground to perform well today and not miss a single step.

Despite how exhausted you are, you’re almost thankful for that. Focusing on cheerleading has helped you file away that god awful night.

The humiliation you experienced still burns a hole inside you whenever you remember it.

While you can’t quite shake the lingering sensation of being watched, you can at least try to reclaim a semblance of normalcy.

Hopefully Ghostface had his fill of tormenting you and won’t do anything like that ever again.

Mindy arches her brow and scoffs, "It’s pretty obvious he’s got some desperate puppy crush on you." Under her breath, she mumbles, "...And I’m still not entirely convinced he’s not Ghostface."

You pause, the tip of your lipstick almost snapping as you press it tight against your mouth. You unleash a heavy sigh and whirl to her, brows drawing together.

"Mindy, please. Not that again," you plead.

It's not the first time your best friend has shared her doubts regarding Ethan and you wager it won't be the last.

Every time she catches you texting him or hanging out, disapproval paints her features. She also squints and gestures at him that she’s watching him whenever she crosses paths with him.

It saddens you that she can’t get along with him and won’t relent regarding her suspicions.

Ethan’s helped you so much. It’s unfair that your best friend keeps claiming he’s a murderer without any evidence to back it up.

And outside of tutoring, he’s been a great friend to you, always here to wipe your tears and listen to you talk about anything, however trivial. Every time you ramble on about cartoons, your collection of stuffed animals and how you’d love to get more, clothes or anything really…Ethan wears that same fond smile on his face.

Outside of Chad, you never had a guy best friend. Unfortunately since getting into college, you haven’t seen much of him since he’s so well liked and has developed such a large circle of friends.

So Ethan’s a breath of fresh air.

You relish the ability to talk without fear of judgment or being belittled for the things you pluck joy from or how forgetful and absentminded you can be sometimes.

Ethan has not made fun of you once for misremembering a word or your tendency to get lost around campus. Instead, he escorted you to class and promised to be with you more often so it doesn’t happen. He also agreed with you that it’s not your fault because every building looks the same, which everyone in your friend group laughed at you for mentioning before.

Mindy leaps from the bed, exclaiming, "Come on, Ethan? Shy, dorky guy who no one suspects because he’s so shy and dorky." She lets out a humorless laugh. "Maybe he went all 'if I can’t have you, no one can' and decided to get rid of the competition…permanently."

Your eyes roll as she concludes her theory with a repeated stabbing motion towards her throat.

"You’re ridiculous." You get back to gauging your reflection. As you adjust the pink bow in your hair, you add, "Ethan’s cool. And I can actually understand some of the stuff Professor Atkins says in class now thanks to him."

In the mirror, you watch a sullen Mindy fold her arms behind you.

"I still don’t trust him." She flicks her hands skyward and exhales in defeat. "But I can’t tell you who to hang out with."

You step away from the vanity to make your way to your pouting best friend. She accepts your hug, a deep scowl still etched on her face.

"Let’s just drop it, okay?" you offer. "I hate arguing with you."

Mindy sighs against your shoulder.

"I’m just trying to keep you safe."

Leaning back, you squeeze her shoulders and smile.

"I know, and I love you for it…but you gotta ease off him, Min." She groans at that, tossing herself back onto your bed with her arms spread. As she glowers at the ceiling, you maintain, "Ethan’s been an amazing friend to me."

More curses are grumbled under her breath. Shoulders slumping, you elect to give it a rest and stop trying to convince her.

You know how stubborn Mindy can be. There will be no changing her mind tonight, or anytime soon.

Casting the upsetting topic aside, you hop to the center of the room and spin in your cheerleader outfit.

"How do I look?"

"Like a fembot specifically designed to appeal to the male gaze," Mindy deadpans.

You angle your head sideways. "Is that a good thing or bad thing?"

She chuckles and smiles at you before elaborating, "You look smoking hot, babe." The befuddled frown on your face vanishes, an elated grin supplanting it. Mindy returns to her reading and gives you a thumbs-up. "Break a leg."

Grimacing, you grab your pom-poms from underneath your bed and head for the door.

"Hopefully not or Alana will kill me."

You’re on your way to meet up with your squad when you stumble upon Ethan in the hallway. As usual, he’s dressed simply in a blue button-up and dark slacks, damp locks of his curly mane kissing his forehead.

He greets you in that bashful way he does while you beam at him, shaking your pom-poms.

You jog in his direction with a bounce in each step.

"Ethan, hey!"

His gaze widens as it roams over you, pink dusting his cheeks.

"Wow, you look…"

Placing a hand on your hip while the other lifts your pom-pom above your head, you adopt a cheerful pose.

"Cute?" you suggest.

Ethan’s throat ripples as he gapes at you.

For a while, he only does that, stare at you open-mouthed.

His face then turns an even brighter shade than before as he dips his head down momentarily.

"Y-Yeah. Something like that," he stammers.

His reaction drags an amused chortle out of you. You surmise it’s the first time you’ve addressed him in your full cheerleader getup and he must be somewhat taken aback.

"I didn’t know you liked sports," you observe.

He shrugs.

"Not particularly but everyone is going and Chad’s my roommate." He points at the camera hanging from his neck. "I also kind of got roped into taking pictures for the school paper."

Some of the other cheerleaders wave at you as they’re running out to the field. The impatient clamor of the crowd already swells from the bleachers, loud enough to be heard even from the corridor.

One of the girls from the squad, Lisa, stops as she catches sight of you and Ethan. A quiet conversation flows between the two of you, an inquiry swaying in her hopeful blue orbs.

You give her an imperceptible nod and she smiles at you, quickly averting her gaze and striding away when Ethan glances from her to you with a look of utter confusion on his face.

"What the hell was that about?" he asks, thick brows drawing together.

"About that…It’s good that I ran into you because there's something I meant to tell you, hm, more like ask you."

He inches closer, his eyes on you wide and alert.

"Ask me what?"

A sliver of hesitation zips through you but you remember the promise you made just a few hours ago at cheer practice.

You can’t back down.

You swallow a lungful of nerve and reveal, "So…one of the girls in my squad sort of has a massive crush on you."

"Oh," he exhales, his shoulders sagging. His smile fades, understanding seeming to dawn on him. "You mean that girl I just saw?"

You nod and explain, "Her name’s Lisa." He considers you blankly. You wave your hands in front of yourself. Words rush out of your mouth in an apprehensive string. "I know. I know. Trying to set up your friends is so cringe but she noticed you since the beginning of the year. The thing is she’s shy and doesn't know how to approach you. I promised her to ask you if you’d be interested in hanging out sometime." You twiddle your thumbs and mumble, "She’s super pretty and so nice, and she’s even into that same board game you told me about the other day…" You trail off, forehead creasing as you try to remember the name.

Ethan tonelessly corrects you when you misspell the name of the game.

You perk up and giggle, "Right. She just told me. I don't know how I forgot."

Ethan studies you long enough that it becomes unnerving and you start fidgeting under his sizzling focus.

You grow nervous, wondering what he’s thinking. Usually, you wouldn’t meddle with anyone’s love life. But Ethan’s done so much for you. If possible, you want to do something for him too.

You just don’t know what you could do to thank him.

Setting him up with someone from your squad seemed like a good idea, especially since you’re pretty sure Ethan’s single. You haven’t seen him hang around any other girl besides you.

A heavy sigh drops from Ethan’s chest as his lips lift into a small half-smile.

"The thing is, I already like someone," he confesses, patting his camera.

Your eyes bulge as a wave of embarrassment washes over you.

"You do? I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize." You blink up at him in curiosity. "Who is she? Does she know?"

He chuckles. "She doesn’t know anything."

You approach him and squeeze his arm encouragingly.

"Well you’re awesome so if she can’t see what’s right in front of her, you’re allowed to move on."

Ethan lets out another wry laugh.

"If only it were that simple."

Your brows knit. "What do you mean?"

He runs his hand through his thick curls and exhales a long, weary breath.

"She’s all I can think about. Literally." He pauses, his gaze corralling yours. "Every hour of every day, I think about her."

"Wow, that’s intense." You rub his forearm and send a sympathetic smile. "Sounds like it’s more than just a crush. Sounds like you’re in love with her."

"Yeah, I guess I am. Silly me, huh?"

"Don’t say that. I’m sure things will work out in the end. You deserve to be happy, Ethan."

His attention on you sharpens before a slow smile unfurls on his lips.

"You know what? I think I do."

"Of course you do."

Your answer makes him smile wider.

The moment is shattered when one of the players wedges himself between you and Ethan and steals an ephemeral, chaste kiss from you.

The buff brunette quarterback flashes you a pearly grin.

"A kiss for good luck?" he says, winking at you.

"Uh, sure," you reply shyly, butterflies swarming your belly.

He smiles at you one last time before jogging towards the stadium.

"Who’s this guy?"

You blink, Ethan’s deep, blunt voice startling you.

Pivoting back to him, you explain, "Oh. Tyler and I met at the boba shop the other day. It’s too early for anything serious but he’s cute and has been super nice to me."

It’s been pleasant to bask in some sense of normalcy again after what happened last month. You craved it. Tyler’s easygoing, fun to be around and he’s never pressured you to do anything once.

Ethan’s jaw clenches as he scoffs, "Do you just go for every guy who buys you candy or gives you some half-assed compliment?"

Your mouth hangs open in shock. "Ethan? What do you mean?"

He scrutinizes you for a few seconds before sighing and moving to walk away.

"Nothing. Don’t worry about it."

The hand you wrap around his wrist stops him, Ethan halting in his tracks. You tug him back with a contrite pout, your concerned gaze rising to meet his.

"I am going to worry about it. Ethan… Did I say something upsetting? I feel like maybe I did. I'm sorry about Lisa. I thought she'd be your type. She's everyone's type."

"Well, she isn't mine," he replies icily.

Budding tears tickle the back of your eyes but you repress them. It’s not the time to weep. The game’s about to start.

So you swallow them with ease, deciding you’ll give Ethan a proper apology later on.

Instead you give a sunny smile and ask, "Are you coming to hang out with everyone after the game? We all decided to meet up for chili fries and beers whatever the outcome is."

Ethan’s eyes fall on your hand wrapped around his wrist. He shifts your grip so your small hand rests in his larger one. He studies your twined hands, rubbing his thumb against the back of yours.

When he looks at you again, a glint dances in his chestnut orbs.

"Thanks but I’m gonna be busy actually." He flashes you a broad grin. "I just remembered I have some trash I need to take out."

#ethan landry x reader #scream fanfic #bimbo!reader #scream 6 #ethan landry #ethan landry x you #scream #dark!ethan landry #ethan landry x bimbo!reader

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marishoodie7 · 9 months

Text

Dom!GF!Ethan x Sub!F!Reader

Content: 18+ Minors dni! Unprotected P in V, oral sex (M receiving), cannon typical violence

You and Ethan had been dating for a few months. You started off as friends because she was too shy to talk about his feelings for you, but eventually Chad got him to get the courage up to ask you out.

Ethan was sweet and nice, but he could be private about some things, like his family. The only things you knew was that he had a sister and his brother had died in a motorcycle accident on the freeway. Besides that little flaw, he was really protective. That was why it was so strange he had left you alone at the frat party.

“Hey Chad! Have you seen Ethan?” You asked as your boyfriends roommate passed.

“No, he mentioned something about leaving early. I thought he was taking you with him.” Chad answered confusedly.

“No, uhm, it’s fine, I’ll just catch him on his way out. Thanks Chad, bye.” You said meekly as you headed towards the door. You stepped out onto the cool night air.

It was dark and the only thing to illuminate your walk was streetlights dotted along your path. You thought you heard something behind you, and you tried to discreetly glance behind your shoulder. You didn’t see anything, so you just kept walking quicker, despite waving off your fears you still felt eyes on you, a sickening prickly feeling creeping up your back.

You breathed a sigh of relief as you approached your apartment. You quickly slid the key in the door and unlocked it. You stepped inside your apartment and started to close the door when you felt and external force pushing on the outside. You screamed and fought it, but you caught a glimpse of the man at the other end. You could smell alcohol coming off his breath, his hair was a rusty color and it was greasy, he had a beard and looked about 50.

Fear surged through your body when he managed to get the door open with such a force it slammed against the wall as it opened. He advanced slowly, like a predator would approach its prey. Behind him you saw another figure, they must have been hiding in the darkness because they stepped when they forward you suddenly had a full view of their black cloaked body. They were wearing a Ghostface mask and held a shiny buck knife.

You screamed even louder and pointed at the figure behind you. The dirty man in front of you stopped smile and he turned quickly, he didn’t even get time to yell out in surprise before Ghostface tackled him and began slashing him. The stabs were quick and deep, they were peppered all over his body. The man lay on the floor, not yet limp, but he was crying.

“Please, please don’t.” He begged, he could barely lift his hands to wipe his eyes. Ghostface tilted his head and waved the knife back in forth tauntingly in his face, as if to say no. Then he slit his throat, ear to ear. You had pressed yourself up against the kitchen wall, unable to speak, sweat ran down your forehead and you whimpered as the figure approached you.

“It’s your turn now.” He said, his voice was deep and distorted. He took menacing steps towards to, but stopped short. He brandished his knife at you.

“Move.” He said, beckoning towards your room. You walked tentatively into your room and stood at the foot of your bed. Ghostface was in the doorway, he stood and watched you stand there.

“Lay down.”

You laid on the bed, your body facing the ceiling. Ghostface loomed above you and you were overcome with a sudden fear of what he would do to you. Instead of stabbing you like he did with the other man, he dropped the knife and pulled his mask off. Your jaw dropped as you realized who was underneath.

“Ethan?” You asked, and he smiled at you.

“Surprise babe.” He replied with a smirk, but you didn’t think this was funny.

“Wh-Why did you do this? Why are you doing this?” You demanded, you had propped yourself up on your elbows.

“Can you see y/n? He was going to hurt you. I wasn’t about to let that happen.” He answered exasperatedly.

“Are you going to hurt me?” If he said no you would believe him. But you didn’t know what to do if he said yes.

“Oh you poor sweet thing,” he laughed, “I would never hurt you. But I do have some other plans for you. Now get on your knees.” He commanded. You rose and knelt in front of him.

He slipped off his robes and revealed he his toned abs. He was only wearing boxers under it. You hadn’t been able to see the growing bulge in his pants because of the robe, but now it was in full view now.

Ethan pulled his boxers down and his hardening length sprang out. He grabbed your hair and pulled you closer to him. You opened your mouth and immediately engulfed his length. He shuddered at the sudden contact of your hot lips. He bucked forward slightly as you slowly pulled your mouth off of him, and then slid down again, teasingly.

You could tell he was becoming impatient so you picked up the pace, you swallowed his dick a few more times before you deep throated him and began to run your tongue around him. His dick trembled in your mouth as he got closer to his release and he whimpered above you. His breathing became ragged, so you deep throated him a few more times before his let his hot ropes fill your mouth.

You slowly removed your lips from his shaft with a pop and then swallowed his cum. You stood in front of him and he pushed you onto the bed.

“It’s your turn now y/n.” Ethan said as he pulled your skirt off and removed your shirt. He loved to be in control when you had sex. Unlike in public, he was confident in the bedroom and loved to be dominant. Once he had undressed you he grabbed one of your boobs and thrusted his now rock hard dick into you.

He didn’t give you any time to adjust before finding a steady pace to thrust into you. You cried out and grabbed his shoulder. He continued this until your cries turned into moans, then he picked up his pace and started moving quickly. The sound of skin pounding together soon drowned out the moans.

“Fuck, Ethan!” Your scream just made him pump faster into you. You could feel your walls closing around you as you neared your first orgasm. The knot in your stomach soon came undone as a hot feeling filled your stomach. Ethan hadn’t came yet, so he fucked you through your orgasm. You were sensitive after so you soon found yourself whimpering desperately in his ear.

“Hold on for me y/n. Fuck, keep that up babe.” He swore as you bucked your hips into his and ran your fingers through his curls. You could feel yourself tensing as another orgasm approached. The thing that pushed you over the edge was Ethan’s whimpers and moans as he neared his own orgasm. He pumped faster and harder into you, and you came. Soon after Ethan filled you up with his own cum. Your insides felt hot and full.

He slowly stopped and then pulled himself out. He collapsed on the bed and you rolled over on top of him. You soon fell asleep as he ran his fingers soothingly through your hair, praising you for your performance that night. You would wake up in the morning to find the body in your living room gone, but at least Ethan is still there, sleeping next to you.

A/N: I wanted to try an Ethan Landry smut! Let me know if you like it! My asks are always open for requests btw :)

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fairlyang · 4 months

Text

Fun I 🕷️

in which ghostface!miguel wants you all to himself, no matter the cost

w/c: 1.4K

pairing: ghostface!miguel x nerdyfem!reader

tags: murder, a lil dark, mans is crazy, but head over heels for you tho, seducing, kinda exhibitionism, fingering

part two

Miguel wanted you all to himself, desperately. He was willing to do just about anything. He knew he couldn't get close to you while your friends were still in the picture.

He thought they were terrible people and so far up their own asses so in his mind he was gonna do you a favor. Plus why would you want any other friends or lovers when you'd have him?

So he decided to strike at the Halloween party at some fraternity. You only went to the party because your friends begged all day, but you went on the condition that they'd still let you finished your book. So you went into the backyard and just read while occasionally listening to one of your friends flirt with some guy.

But any time your group separated he made sure to get into a secluded area with each of your friends.

First up was your best friend who went to the bathroom. He stood outside the door in his ghostface mask and a black robe and as soon as she opened the door he pushed her back in. He pushed her again the wall and made it as quick as possible.

He left her body in the bathtub and closed the curtain before cleaning his knife then walking out going out looking for the next.

Which luckily for him another friend bumped into him and swore him out. He groaned and quickly dragged her back into the bathroom, closing the door then sticking his knife into her stomach.

He looked at her through his mask as she tried to choke out words but he just grabbed her, opening the curtain and pushed her on top of her friend in the bathtub.

Once again wiping his knife clean on the sink before looking at the bathtub one more time before closing the curtains and walking out, closing the door behind him.

He made his way through the crowded people and went outside. He expected to still find some people out there and not just you but he was happy to have you alone.

And didn't even have to kill your last friend to get you alone.

He takes off his mask and walks over to you, you look up at the sound of footsteps and put your book down, "oh hey Miguel." You say and give him a sweet smile.

He felt his heart skip a beat as he returned the smile and walked past you to sit on the chair right next to you. "hi pretty girl, what are you doing out here by yourself huh?" He says and leans in closer to you.

You shrug and hold up your book which just makes him chuckle, "how'd they convince ya to come this time?"

"said they'd let me be as long as I came." You say and grin.

He laughs and shakes his head, you were just so sweet.

"I've got an idea..." he says and brings a hand down to your thigh.

You gasp and widen your eyes, "w-what are you doing?"

"Just wanna have some fun with you princess." He whispers and grazes your skin gently.

He knew he'd never ever have it in him to hurt you, let alone make you do something you didn't want to do. And he knew you have a lot of curiosity, he knew you were just a horny little virgin that's just been dreaming of being touched.

And how could he not offer to help you out?

"I- uh-" you stammer and look down at his hand, it gently squeezed your thigh making you bite your lip.

You never thought you'd have a chance with a guy like Miguel. According to your friends he was picky when it came to girls and you never thought he'd go for someone like you.

Unbeknownst to you, you were exactly what he's been looking for. And exactly who he wants.

"So what do you say pretty girl?" He whispers in your ear sending a shiver all throughout your body.

"We can have a little bit of fun..." he coos and leaves a soft kiss along your neck making you shake.

"Or you can just give me the word and I'll stop." He says pulling away making you immediately shake your head.

"Gotta tell me what you want sweetheart." He whispers as he brings his hand closer and closer to where you have so desperately been needing to touched.

"D-don't stop... please." You whimper out and he smiles.

"Whatever you say princess." He whispers and scoots his chair as close to you as possible.

He then spreads your legs and lifts your skirt up to reveal a pair of baby pink panties. "So pretty angel." He coos in your ear making you hide your face in your hands.

He tuts in disapproval and slides his left hand into your panties. You gasp then bite your lip realizing you're outdoors and that anyone could come outside. He then dips two fingers into your already soaked cunt and just relishes in the fact that he's finally doing this.

He's wanted you for so long but with your friends in the way and blabbering nonsense in your ear he knew you wouldn't wanna hear him out. But considering how he didn't even have to convince you maybe you wanted this too?

He slips one finger inside slowly but you still let out needy little moans for him that only drove him more insane. He then pulls it out only to push it back in again, your walls clenching beautifully against his finger.

And those sounds. Not just your pretty, desperate moans but the sounds of your wetness as he fucked you, faster now.

You were practically swallowing his finger whole, but it just felt so good. You've only ever taken your fingers and could barely take two. With just one of his it felt like you were getting fucked with two of yours.

But it was so good, even better than you'd imagine fingering would feel like.

Suddenly he slips in a second finger and you cried out, feeling way too full but he just sweetly kissed your cheek and told you how good you were taking it. "Such a good girl for me." He murmured in your ear as he slowly pumped his fingers deeper and deeper.

You nodded and moaned as he gradually went faster, your cries were like music to his ears. He could set them up as his ringtone or alarm for every morning just so he could hear you if he was able to. He was already in love with all the sounds you were making, it was even better than anything he's ever dreamed of.

"F-fuck- Miguel-" you moan out and it made his cock twitch under his pants.

"Like that sweet girl?" He coos and you whimper aimlessly nodding again.

He groans and goes faster, already feeling your juices drip out and down to your pretty ass. Oh badly he wanted to make you cum. Those damn wet dreams always kept him up, he'd picture your pretty eyes looking at him as you cried that you wanted to be his good girl.

He wasn't strong enough to stop them and let them continue as he'd stroke his cock imagining all the sounds you'd make but now he didn't have to imagine.

He leaned against your head, kissing your cheek again as you melted into his touch and felt your legs start to shake. He started going deeper and curling his fingers up making sure to hit that sweet spot that'll make you cum in no time.

"Fuck! O-oh god- Miguel-" you moaned out and bucked your hips up as you felt that funny feeling in your tummy.

"I-I- mmm- I think I'm gonna-"

"Cum for me pretty girl. Be a good girl for me sweetheart." He coos and you whimpered as your legs began to shake and your orgasm hits you like never before.

You cried out for him as he slowed down letting you ride out your high as he left gentle kisses on your face. You closed your eyes and tried to catch your breath but your body was still slightly shaking.

He slips his fingers out of you and then brought them up to his mouth where he licked them clean as you watched in awe and shock.

Suddenly you hear the door open and you quickly scrambled to fix your panties and put your skirt down. Miguel lets his fingers out with a pop as your last remaining friend came over and gave him a look.

"Hey girl, still hanging out here?" She asks and you nod, feeling your face heat up.

"We were just having some fun, weren't we angel?" He says at first looking at her then at you which you nodded and smiled at her.

#miguel o'hara #across the spiderverse #spiderman #atsv miguel #miguel 2099 #miguel ohara x reader #miguel smut #miguel o hara #miguel ohara oneshot #miguel o’hara smut #miguel ohara x y/n #miguel ohara imagine #miguel o #hara smut #miguel ohara smut #fun

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wandagcre · 8 months

Text

my pumpkin | sam carpenter 🔞

(Sam Carpenter x AFAB ! reader)

Sam wants to try something new with you.

WARNING: smut, dark dom! ghostface! sam, dark sub!reader (they're both crazy), can be interpreted as intersex!sam or cumming strap-on sam, mentions of blood and murder, knife play, possessiveness, breeding kink, slight degradation & humiliation, aftercare +18 / men & minors dni.

Words: 5.5k | [ AO3 ]

In the middle of your night routine, you hear a thud somewhere in the apartment. Deciding to investigate, you left your glass of water in the kitchen. Like on autopilot, your feet already dragged you to approach towards the living room, and your gut was right: there was a tall figure that had caught your attention and a smile made its way to your lips with ease.

There stood Sam, in your unlit living room, her dark thick robe pooling by her combat boots and she was taking off the bloody Ghostface mask. Her hair was haphazardly tied up and she's left with her wifebeater tank top and dark sweatpants — bronze skin currently dripping with sweat. Sam had a blank expression on, maybe a hint of bloodlust glint that lingered on her face, which turned you on — imagining how it must've been so good to see her in the act, especially this one.

You spot a few bruises and cuts on her upper body. You already expected this, walking away for a second to retrieve the first-aid kit and mentally taking note to ice some of her bruises later.

Sam's hazel eyes lit up soon as she met yours, arms opening for a hug.

"Love. Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?"

"You too, Sammy." You affectionately murmur and nestled deeper in the embrace and Sam tightens her grip in return. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

There you were with Sam in the small bathroom in your shared apartment. She sat quietly by the closed toilet, her arm brought up to you. Moments like this were your favorite, having to tend her cuts and bruises. There was something about Sam appearing as both vulnerable and vicious post-murder during the ungodly hours.

"Wanna tell me how it went?" You start as you wipe the remaining blood on her skin then you dab the cotton with alcohol feather light. The curiosity was eating you.

In return, Sam smiles at how your eyes twinkled as you asked, she pulls away slightly, her hold on you moving to your waist to pull you closer in between her legs. The faint smell of peaches and cigarettes immediately filled your senses.

She sighed, "He was all talk. Pissed me off a bit with that foul mouth he got running whenever he saw a woman..." Sam’s grip by your soft waist tightens at some thought, "It made me think of how rude and disgusting he must have been to you, princess. And that angers me so much."

"But you took care of it, I know you did good." you respond with much appreciation in your tone, as if the conversation that had transpired was casually about the weather. Your hands find their way on top of Sam’s hair, your thumb gently caressing through them.

The corner of Sam’s eyes crinkled. "Anything for my baby. He squirmed like a useless pig."

The cold room was filled with laughter. It was easy to say that the two of you were truly match made in heaven. The person in question was your boss, who thought he was being sly with his provocative comments and uncomfortable staring at you while at work. He was insufferable to say at least. Even the last interaction you had with him was you trying to play along with one of his nauseous comments because God knows given your position, he’ll always have his way.

Sadly for him, he doesn’t even know it'll be his last day to live.

Because you didn't even have to tell Sam because she was there to witness, right outside your workplace to pick you up and his sleazy gestures unfolded in front of your waiting girlfriend. Your boss just had to outwardly say that ‘he can’t get enough of your good and shapely presence’ within Sam’s earshot.

Now? He's nothing but a fresh butchered meat fed to a bloodlust Loomis.

You left your girlfriend in the bathroom for some privacy. For a few minutes, you heard water running. To your surprise however, as you plop down to your shared bed, Sam was across you and there was a pensive look on her face as she leans by the door frame. Her hair remains to be haphazardly tied on, her hands a bit wet.

“I wanna try something on you, baby.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “What is it?”

“This.”

Sam retrieves a familiar dagger from her back – it was the one you managed to get your hands on and gave it to her as a birthday present. Back then, you didn’t know yet whether the Ghostface version of her had existed yet; but you did this anyway after she opened up about her previous encounters given by the reputation that precedes her, to provide her with some sort of an easy to carry and hide of a self-defence weapon. With her words and the dagger on her hand, you were confused to say at least.

“I need you to elaborate, Sam.” you ask, to which Sam bit her lip and sauntered towards you.

"I’m going to mark you with it. Nothing too deep and crazy, trust me. And you can also say no! I promise I won’t be mad. It’s only a thought, baby.”

“Alright.” You exhale, sitting with crossed legs, looking up to her and see Sam visibly becoming relaxed. “But can I ask why you want to do it? I genuinely just want to know your reason behind it. And how…exactly?”

Sam’s eyes softened as her eyes were pierced onto yours, "It’s basically just carving a small thing to your body. I… I want to mark you in a way that’s personal and close to who I am. Also, I want to remember us – this being my first kill for you.”

You understand now, pulling Sam by her thighs who still stood tall in front of you for a hug. The scent of peaches and cigarettes fill your nose once again, it was oddly addicting and comforting. It was distinctively very Sam.

"So, it's about owning me... in your terms?"

“Yes.” she whispered.

You decide to lighten up the mood, “And you’re sure this is your first kill for me? Not my old friend from my hometown?”

Sam frowned, almost not getting get your joke – but soon she heartily chuckles as the realization dawns upon her. There was another case you suspected, an old friend whom Sam felt very territorial over you when you told her that they confessed when you returned home. Suspiciously, they disappeared, but you find out a year later that they only travelled on a spontaneous trip.

“No. But... maybe I almost wanted to.”

You bite your bottom lip and Sam nudges you with her finger by your shoulder, motioning for you to make space for her in the bed. Now she joins you beneath the sheets, standing on her knees, looking down as she’s still towering over you.

“That’s hot.”

Sam shakes her head and closes the distance between you two, “Only you would say that…” She holds the dagger on her dominant hand, the sharp metal pointed away from you.

The cold night is coming to a close, barely feels like one, as the room starts to become heated. Especially with your girlfriend’s eyes unashamedly trailing over your body, like you were a delicious prey served as a five-star meal just for her.

“And that’s exactly why you love me.” You say with ease, lips now ghosting near hers, feeling her ragged breath increasing.

"Exactly, baby. No one compares.”

Sam tucked a stray hair behind your ear. Your face heats up at the gesture. You didn't feel any different around her, like any other day around her you remained to feel safe. Secured. Not even her retelling stories of her vivid killings can even change that. Perhaps, you were as sick as her, but you couldn’t give a single fuck about it.

With an exhale, you give her the green light.

"Okay baby. I trust you."

A wolfish grin appeared on her lips, changing so quickly like a mere switch. With that sight, a shot of arousal started to stir on your stomach.

"Remember your colors, baby. Say red and we’ll stop immediately. How do you feel right now?"

The dagger made its presence known as Sam dragged the pointed end on your bare right thigh with slight pressure startled you – not enough to draw blood – yet it was sharp and daunting, completely contradicting the gentleness in her tone.

"G-green," you stuttered out.

“Good girl.” Sam says and tilts your chin up using the dagger. “Now strip for me.”

Your breath hitches once again. The lust is heightened as you feel Sam’s piercing eyes on you, watching you wiggle off your skimpy shorts first, eyes following and so attentive to the growing damp spot on your underwear. Her dagger remained on your chin until it was time for you to strip out of her old loose shirt that you chose to wear earlier and Sam audibly groaned when she found out that you weren’t wearing any bra at all, she zones out in the sight. You feel her scoot on the sheets closer to you – to say that she was a big fan of your tits would be an understatement.

“Fucking irresistible,” Sam lets out a groan and starts to busy herself, already moved onto a different agenda – mouth and teeth getting involved as she marks and sucks all over your tits, your skin becoming thoroughly wet and littered with hickeys. For a few minutes she stayed on worshipping your upper body. While it turned you on, the ache in your cunt was also becoming an issue, making you squirm. “That’s already an appetizer and dessert for me, shit, you’re just so good…”

Now her thighs have your almost naked body trapped, Sam remains hovering above you as you laid down. You get a closer look of her taut muscles flexing through the wifebeater she wears as she moves, a few scars coming to light on her body. You realize that she’s about to take you while in her post-murder outfit, making you squirm your legs once again trying to find ease in your arousal. She’s still sweaty and sticky but you honestly can’t care any less. Not when you have her sculpted body ready to pounce on you at any moment.

“Aren’t you supposed to shower first?” You joke and her expression didn’t falter.

Sam only smirked. “We were going to change the sheets, anyway. I planned on having you either way for tonight.” Her hot breath was so close, tickling your exposed skin.

Your body felt warmer, opposed to her cold free hand that slightly startled you as she roughly palmed a cupful of your tits, giving it another good squeeze.

“Fuck…” you moan, her moves to affect you were rapidly increasing.

Sam teased again by her slow hands going for a sharp tug on your nipple. “We’re getting into it, princess.”

She lowered herself and finally met your lips for a kiss, the slow and softness of a start quickly dissipated as she grew hungry for more. Still kissing you, both hands trying to cup your face, occasionally darting her tongue on your mouth. Sam moved fast and rough, as though she was quenching her thirst and your lips were the only water left for her. You wouldn’t be surprised if your lips actually bruised. You were starting to feel breathless and lightheaded, trying to match her pace and she pulled away to tug on your bottom lip. She swiped it with her tongue for good measure. You don’t feel her close anymore and yet you still tried to chase her lips again, only to find out that she looked smug as soon as you opened your eyes.

“Just for me.” Sam murmurs to no one.

You dazedly acknowledge her, “Yes, only yours.”

“God, If you only know how you endlessly drive me mad...”

Sam had her palm pressed on the mattress, resting on the side of your head. You meet her halfway by having your elbows propped up, carrying your upper body’s weight. Yet, you don’t know how long it’ll last – not with Sam’s mouth leaving open mouthed kisses on your body; from your cheek, affectionate and soft, to your neck where her nose tickled you and mouth that met where your jugular vein rests – lingering to suck and bite. You don’t even try to conceal your moans to your girlfriend’s delight, the sounds loud enough to make her eager as ever. Your eyes roll on the back of your head, immediately lost to the sensation. With the tip of the knife pressed on your plush stomach all at once and scratching you lightly, though lifted quickly, it made your stomach twitch and you whimper.

You feel unbearably soaked, clearly wanting for more. Completely certain that you're damp enough for your Sam to smell your arousal. Your girlfriend smirks in confirmation and when she moves her hip low enough for yours to meet. When you pushed your core closer against your girlfriend's, Sam already has your ass cupped, squeezing your flesh, and it only made you grind hard enough to feel something hard —

Oh.

You feel her.

The walls of your cunt started to rapidly clench on nothing. Sam detaches her hips away from you after a little teaser and your fingers make their way to her hair, then caressing on Sam's nape and your girlfriend arches her neck, groaning in response. She moves lower, wanting to give you wet kisses placed on the soft rolls of your stomach which slightly tickled you in the process. You were about to protest, beyond needy, but it seems that Sam has already read your mind.

"Here it comes."

You take a deep breath and feel the sharp knife moving in ragged curves as Sam draws with it. She pushes it down a few millimeters more on your stomach. You groan in each line she makes, it stings a little as she continues marking.

"Wanna know what I marked, princess?" Sam regains your attention by tilting your chin up to look at her using the knife, you open your eyes, seeing the metal now painted with red specks of blood.

"Y-Yes.”

"It's the first letter of my name. So every time you take a look in the mirror naked, you'll always be reminded that you're nobody else's but mine."

"Oh fu- fuck, fuck!" you whimper, although now you feel turned on more than anything.

The knife resumes in contact with your freshly marked area again, Sam drags it as if she's tracing it for the second time on your skin. your eyes are screwed shut — you can't explain the sensation, walking in the line between pain and pleasure. It stings yet it's so addicting. You think that a huge chunk of it was maybe because it was Sam doing it with her honeyed voice and dark tunnel gaze onto you.

"You're doing so good, baby." She praises you, voice deeper than ever.

Sam crawls down lower onto you and you try your hardest to keep your eyes open, curious of her next move. The spot now feels wet as you feel your girlfriend licking your fresh wound and you let out a strangled moan in response.

“Oh god!”

When you made eye contact with your girlfriend, her eyes were heavy lidded more than ever. It’s evident even in the room that’s barely lit, only the lamp on, and you see her wet lips tugged in a smirk. The color red is slightly evident from having to sucked off the trail of blood that trickled out of your fresh wound.

Sam meant it when she said that it'll leave a scar enough for you to see even right after this session. In theory, you should be terrified of how precise your girlfriend is with the weapon, but you aren't at all. You are thrilled in reality, as you know that Sam is using a special dagger to brand you, different amongst the one she uses to kill her victims; this one was shorter and unused, not actually meant to kill. For you and only you.

After all, who doesn't like being proved to be her princess and a special exception?

The aftermath of the knife's stinging hasn't left just yet. As you reel into the sensation, you feel the mattress dip and you see Sam adjusting.

“Sit up for me.” Sam orders and you quickly scramble into position, legs folded, facing your girlfriend. “Color?”

“Still green.” you whisper, eyes becoming watery. “Can you please touch me now?”

Sam doesn’t respond. Instead, there was the dagger, the side of it being dragged across your tits down to your pelvis. Your girlfriend had set your underwear aside. You close your eyes again to flutter out the teariness, then something plunges inside of your core. The object feels foreign against your spongy walls and it's coming in fast and intrusive. It makes you moan unadulteratedly loud, heat spreading all over your body. It was the most relief your cunt has received had felt this entire session; evident in the way your wetness seeped more, yet you’re becoming slightly embarrassed of the sloshing sounds that fills the room as the thing continues to move in and out of your flesh.

"I wish I had recorded this, princess. Look at you taking it all in..." Sam murmurs huskily and her words feel hot on your body.

“Record?”

Your girlfriend tilts her head, “Maybe next time,” She winks at you.

You’re a putty mess under her touch. Sam finds utmost joy seeing you unravelling into this form, unable to form coherent sentences as she has her way with you. You meet her entranced look – mouth quirked up and eyes more lust filled. As your eyes trail lower over Sam, you notice that your girlfriend’s dominant hand has the dagger’s flat base carefully held – the handle being plunged in and out of your pussy. The bed creaks more.

"Your pussy is so fucking greedy, taking my dagger so good... I can feel you pulsating in it. Maybe I'm gonna fuck you right after then cum inside of you, as a reward, huh?" she changes the angle of the dagger’s handle, pushing deeper and faster into you and you feel yourself leak even more, grasping on her hair.

"Oh yes! yes! A-anything you want, S-Sam!"

"Knew you'd agree. My princess who's a whiny slut for me," Sam continues her ministrations, hand remaining precise, and you feel her free arm snake around your soft waist, as if she's trapping you. "you're making a mess in the bed, honey. Are you not embarrassed?"

You feel a twinge of embarrassment, realizing you were lost on riding your girlfriend’s dagger alone while she was simply thrusting the dagger’s handle in and out of you, all with ease, looking like a desperate whore while dripping and making a mess on Sam’s hand at the same time as your pussy overflowed with wetness.

"N-No, because I love being a slut for you," you whisper truthfully, now growing desperate to chase orgasm. "I'm so so close,"

“For me only.” Sam growls in response, making her thrust it more forcefully as if she was actually stabbing.

You let out a throaty moan and your hands moving so frenzied to alleviate the release by clawing all over Sam's back – anywhere you can reach and balance upon. Sam deliciously grunts at the action.

Like a cold bucket poured down on your then burning body, Sam dislodged the handle completely from your desperately soaked cunt. Now you’re back to clenching onto nothing, the ache between your legs becoming a real challenge for you to hold yourself for much longer.

"No, no, no! Fuck, I was about to cum, Sam..." you complain, feeling sensitive, tears running on your cheeks.

Sam comforts you, cupping your cheeks and wiping the tears away with her thumb.

"Patience, baby." your girlfriend hushes you and you find her looking completely lost as you are, giving you comfort. She had her free hand sprawled on your lower stomach. "Suck this for me first. Then I'll let you do whatever, baby."

Sam then raises the knife that was glistening off your own wetness from earlier, making your cheeks heat up. Goodness, it’s coated ridiculously with a copious amount of wetness... which you're supposed to suck. Not that you were new to this – sucking something off for Sam – but the thought still makes you a tad shy.

You’re starting to think Sam enjoys humiliating you this much.

"All of it. C'mon, baby, get to work so we can finish you sooner."

It's affecting Sam so much based on her raspier voice now. You comply with her order, making sure to put on a show; your free hand gripping on her shoulder and lips now on the handle of the knife, sucking all of your wetness that once coated it. You made sure to look directly at Sam's heavy lidded eyes, who was now completely hazy and her mouth open to your delight. You wanted her to lose her mind as much as you did, making sure that your cheeks were hollowed and moaning along the action, even making your tongue twirl around it. Your girlfriend exhales loudly at the sight you presented her.

“Fuck. You’re teasing me back, princess?” Sam tilts her head, questioning you. She discards the dagger, object clanking, and now somewhere on the floor.

You were more than happy to see that it got onto her. “Just putting on a show for you…”

Sam has enough, having a taste of your arousal as she grabs you for a bruising kiss. She seems to savor it as her tongue gets involved, as though she’s eager to taste her favorite flavor. "My little slut. Still green?"

"Yes."

"Does it hurt?" Sam traces lightly the now marked letter S wound that resides on your lower stomach.

"No," Your girlfriend smiles at your response and you close your eyes. The ache between your legs makes itself known as you squirm over Sam’s touch. You bit your lower lip in frustration. "Want you inside of me now, please, Sammy."

“Okay. I’m going to make you choose,” She looks you straight in the eye, “Do you want to lay down or to ride me?”

A moan already escaped your throat, “W-what would you like?”

“Don’t answer me with a question, baby. I am asking you.” Her voice is deep and stern, waiting for you.

You look at her still completely dressed – unlike you, all bare for her. You start to feel a little conscious so you decide to immediately change that up.

“Want to undress you and ride you.”

You were more than ecstatic, seeing Sam nod in agreement – you absolutely waste no time in removing her wifebeater tank top, sweatpants, and boxers immediately, appreciating all of Sam’s muscular and sweaty glory. It doesn’t help that she’s got a few specks of blood still somewhere on her body, the eroticism of it all is not lost on you. Her tits were hypnotizing and to see it paired with her hard on, makes you lick your lips in anticipation. You start to understand more why your girlfriend loves body worshipping so much, because you feel just the same as her.

Sam was amused at your dazed expression, so lost that she has to snap you to reality by pressing a chaste kiss on your lips.

“Ride me now, pretty girl.” She rasps out and you quickly get on Sam’s lap. Her length is pressed against your stomach, making your breath ragged and she isn’t even inside you yet.

You align yourself onto Sam, who glides her cock first into your wet folds. Your hands were on a deathly grip, squeezing over your girlfriend’s broad shoulder, and Sam is becoming more unrestrained with you. She huffs, snakes her arm by your waist then to your hips – continuing her motions until she is satisfied with how your wetness thoroughly coated her cock.

“Fuck, I’m going in now, baby…” Sam’s hazel eyes peer over you, searching for any sign of discomfort. She was only met with your lust filled eyes and opened mouth, easily one of her favorite sights when it comes to you. The tip teases your clit making you moan and finally, she pushes inside of you, making you both groan at the sensation. She's big and girthy, even if it’s only half of her cock that was fully in, and your walls were still adjusting to accommodate all of her. Sam understood this, hence her careful movements, afraid of hurting you by accident.

“Tell me whenever you’re ready, princess.”

You profusely nod your head in appreciation, “Y-yes, shit, give me a minute.”

As your walls were processing her length, Sam soaks in the feeling of being inside of you. It was so warm and comfortable; both of your single nerves felt like it was throbbing and clenching, and by God, the fucking clenching — you were gripping her cock in a way that felt delicious and so par with her possessiveness — the entirety of you, soul and body, are no one’s but hers. It was a feeling that Sam would never get tired of.

You’re now fully sinked into Sam’s entire length, eyes getting teary in pleasure.

“You can move now,”

Sam presses a kiss on your cheek and doesn’t waste a minute to move; Both weights being unminded given the position, the bed creaks louder than ever as you ride her. Your pussy is sopping, feeling soaked as a waterfall. In comparison to your throat, it feels dry with all the screaming you’ve done for Sam, already anticipating that you'll sound hoarse later. Maybe you won’t even have a voice to speak at all.

For a split second you think about the complaints you'd get the next day.

But being sunk deep in your girlfriend's cock, the thought vanishes quickly and you’re filled with so much desperation, hips rolling along with Sam's movements — so fucking close. The burning feeling of the cock against your walls soon dissipated, evident with the faster pace, the skin to skin slapping vibrates throughout the bedroom, your sheets are definitely mixed with wetness and stickiness.

One of Sam's hands was steadying you by holding on your soft and plush sides, the other kneading roughly on your tits. When you look at Sam, you see her eyes moving down and up in appreciation, drinking in your sight. you only moan louder as the sensations in tandem were driving you dripping and insane.

"Gonna fill you to the brim and paint your walls white," Sam’s promise vibrates delectably against your neck, the skin to skin slapping resonates louder than ever and she was pulling half and pushing in the whole of her cock in a rigorous motion. You feel helpless and reduced to a piece of dumb moanings.

"Look at you now, baby. fuck I’m gonna breed you. Not a single drop is going to drip out of this pretty pussy. I bet you'll like that, huh?"

"Y-yes, yes, yes!"

"With the sounds you're making alone, shit, ‘m gonna cum. You're driving me mad, baby,"

Sam’s fingertips were hard and rough in circle motions against your engorged clit. It was enough to drive you to be equally mad as her, you already know that you’ll be driven over the edge. She indeed filled you to the brim, your pussy welcoming all of her now. The knot in your lower stomach finally untangles – which was much deserved – you had cum hard with Sam’s relentless thrusts, and the relief immediately washed over your body. Now you're heaving on your girlfriend’s shoulder, trying to catch your breath, yet she hasn't stopped her actions still. With a few more thrusts and grunts, you feel your girlfriend finally shoot ropes of warm cum inside of you.

"Don't move just yet." Sam moans against your neck, but it's more of a command. you still feel your pussy pulsating like crazy from your high, thinking that Sam is only doing it to ride it out, squeezing all of the cum that both of you have to release. To your surprise, she only picked up the pace and started to thrust her cock onto your pussy once again.

"F-fuck, fuck, Sam! I'm still sensitive!" You try to slightly push her away by the shoulder.

Sam won't budge, knowing you'd say your safe word if it were the case.

"Shh. I know you can do more, princess,”

Your eyes were screwed shut and your neck thrown back, lost and savoring the pleasure. You feel how Sam's completely using your body for her pleasure, as she pulls almost her entire length out, tip of her cock still in, only to sink all of her suddenly in a fast manner. Your pussy walls were clenching, afraid that you’ll actually grow another type of heartbeat, as the pressure flows deliciously into you. You seep more wetness in the process. With Sam’s unforgiving pace, you can’t even say that you didn’t like that, being responsible for such insane fueled lust, so you let her.

The cum inside of you from earlier was getting messy as it was starting to leak along with the damp of your wetness in the sheets. If Sam's goal was to actually break the bed, you fear that it'll come to fruition as your girlfriend only continues to move her cock in and out rougher and faster than ever.

"These fucking pretty tits… all for me," Sam says in stupor, licking her lips at your sweaty and red figure. She lets her thumb and forefinger roll and tug on your nipple, then meets your mouth open in pleasure to swallow all of your moans.

Your grip on her moves to her tangled hair, barely tied now, tightened and tugging on her scalp to her pleasure. Sam grunts as she meets your hips rolling, now messy and slowly becoming uncoordinated, and gives a final few thrusts. Soon again, a relief washes over you so soon and you feel so full and insanely warm — Sam had just cummed for the second time inside of you and you just released your high as well.

"I told you," Sam huffed out, lips smirking as she looked up at you. "That I was gonna fill you up like crazy. What do you say about me marking you more, with a heart beside my first name letter this time?"

The feeling of the dagger both it’s sharpness and how she plowed it inside of you flashed quickly and familiar, the sensation still fresh. Your pussy throbs at the thought.

"You're insatiable." Sam chuckles at your words, combing your sweaty mess of hair as you whine half-heartedly at the equally messy appearance of your girlfriend’s suggestion. "And so cheesy. Like, a heart? Seriously?"

Although Sam wasn't affected at the jab in the slightest. She raises an eyebrow instead.

She cups your ass closer to her pelvis, as if there remains to be a distance between the two of you. Your cunt couldn’t help it but pathetically clench around her.

"Says the one who won't get off my cock still." Sam cockily retorts at you as she feels you adjust.

"Touché."

You remain in that same position until Sam notices that you're startled as she brushed her thumb against the fresh S wound.

She exhales and affectionately pats your plush thigh, "Let's get up before another round, princess. We have to clean that mark up, just in case."

You tighten the grip of your thighs now wrapped around her sweaty lower back refusing to get up.

"Don't wanna. I'm comfy in here."

You make it a point by keeping yourself snug as she's still inside of you and you clench your walls once again on her cock. Every time you do the action, the mixed fluid inside of you gushes even more, making a squelching sound and you drip a little more not only at the sheets, but as well as Sam’s thighs. Sam moans at this, her neck arched as she reels onto the feeling.

"C'mon you little tease. Say, I'll lift you through it?"

You look at her eyes seriously, "you'll stay inside?"

"Yes, doofus."

From a distance, you hear the television.

Man, 48, was found dead and stabbed twenty-six times, suspect remains unconfirmed but suggests the Ghostface’s brutal pattern….

“I guess no work for me tomorrow…?”

“And more time for me to ruin you. It’s totally a win-win.”

Sam laughs heartily at your joke and you find yourself joining along with her. You pay no mind, letting your girlfriend scoop you with ease as you make your way towards the sink and she takes care of you. It was safe to say it wouldn't be the last time that they'll be playing with the knife.

(please practice safe-sex!)

#gg.writes #sam carpenter x reader #scream vi #wlw #lesbian #sam carpenter smut #ghostface #ghostface sam #samantha carpenter #sam carpenter x fem reader #scream 6 #sam loomis #sam carpenter x y/n #sam carpenter x you #sam carpenter

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