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magnoliabutters · 6 months

Text

F🔪CK AROUND & FIND OUT

pairing: ghostface!eddie munson x (she/her) reader

warnings: 18+ content, nsfw, mdni; dark smut themes, bargaining, life/death scenario, noncon/dub-con, hair pulling, knife play, predator & prey, oral, penetration, degradation kink, choking, etc.

inspiration: @chestharrington's lazy ghoul's kinktober → week three: anonymous sex

word count: ~4.5k

note: y'all thought i'd get through a kinktober without my mans?! naaaahhh; note note ~ please check out the warnings & take care of yourself, the pairing is 18+ & based on my version of eddie "ghost face" munson

note note note ~ ~ a lil'borrow from @munsonify's delicious moodboard

“You locked your door, right?”

A swift roll of your eyes and your hand reaches for the dead bolt. The lock clicks to the left as you tuck your phone between your cheek and shoulder, landing your back against the front door.

“Jenny, it’s locked,” you mumble between chews of your gum. “I don’t know why you’re taking this whole serial killer thing seriously. The police aren’t talking about it.” Your voice dwindles on as you await common sense to fill your best friend.

“Hmph.”

“Oh, come on! It’s just a story,” you groan out. Annoyance filled to the brim. “I heard the fraternity boys make a story every year. No one’s going around killing people on Halloween.”

A sigh comes clear through the other line. You don’t understand how your friend could hear the story and be genuinely terrified. The first time you heard the story, you laughed at its bullshit. The simple coincidence of the twentieth anniversary of the Hawkin’s Diner Massacre and now somehow the serial killer returns? Bull.

“Still, you shouldn’t be alone,” she whines. “And missing your first Halloween on campus is unforgivable.”

“Ooo, add it to the list,” you taunt. “Adios weirdo!” You chuckle to yourself while crashing back onto the couch. You swing your legs over the armrest as your head is carried by a stack of decorative pillows. “I’ll meet you at the coffee shop tomorrow. We can talk about how we survived the night.”

Jenny scoffs before adding, “Alright, bye loser.” A smile sprawls across your face as you hang up the phone. Not a single care in the world before gently dropping it on the carpet beside you.

You quickly reach out to the coffee table. Fingers curl around the plastic of the remote. As your thumb hovers over the “on” button, you hear a scratching sound from down the hallway. You roll your eyes, another round of annoyance before you can rest and watch your sitcoms.

“Pablo!” you call out. “I just took you out 15 minutes ago.” Pablo, the poodle, doesn’t care in the slightest if you finally got to sit down - he needs to go.

Slumping your body off the couch, you groan and gripe while stomping down the hallway. Halfway through the creaking wooden floor, you can’t help but notice your cute, little pup wasn't meeting you in the kitchen doorway like usual.

With a voice filled with confusion, you call out, “Pabs, come here boy!”

You cross the kitchen doorway, landing your bare feet against the cold tiled floor. You hear his familiar patter against the wood as he rushes to meet you. You expect him to come through the dining room’s doorway, but the soft noise comes from behind. You slowly turn to see him back at the end of the hallway, staring you down from the living room.

Panic rips through you as you hurriedly twist your body to look at the door. Between the boxed window panes, you see a white glistening mask smile back at you as a black robed arm reaches for the door knob. You watch as it knob twists and turns, back and forth.

Without wasting a second, you rush around the corner. Feet slamming upon the floor as you feel your heart beating hard against your chest. Your hand reaches for the railing before swinging up the staircase.

Five steps in and you hear glass shatter. All you cared about was getting to your parent’s room, to the walk-in closet, to the safe beneath your father's shoe rack, to the shotgun already loaded and waiting for you. Cortisone seeps into your bloodstream. Your heart races, spreading the hormone thick and true throughout your body. You can feel your chest heaving, breaths filled with both sobs and exhaustion.

You can hear bundled steps, hurried and frantic behind you, but you’ve only gotten to your parent’s bedroom. You rush through, slamming the closet door back against the dresser. Your fingers dance, twisting the dial as you struggle to see through your tears.

Quick to the right and you hit the number 10, turning it back you hear the click of the safe once reaching 78. You can also hear him coming, but you desperately try to push that from your mind. Push away those muffled steps rushing against the carpet as he enters the bedroom. You turn the dial once more, all you need is the number 3, it's right there - you’re so close…

The black cloaked attacker digs their fingers into the top of your scalp, pulling against strands of your hair until you are on the other side of the closet. Your eyes return back to the ghostly face already splattered with blood across its chin.

Your eyesight becomes blurry as tears begin to flood your cheeks. Your body cowers into itself, knees up to your chest and arms wrapped around them. You hesitantly peer from your knees to see the shine of a knife reflecting your face.

“Please!” you scream with your hands covering your face.

You tremble beyond your fingers to see that the serrated knife has paused right before your face. The blade is only an inch or two from your eyes. Death, a mere second away and you can do nothing.

The blackened form has now kneeled beside you. A frightening mask beaming its smile at you with a curious tilt of its head. “Please!” you plead. “I just … just tell me what you need! Is it money? W-we have money!”

The person behind the mask groans as they slam the knife into the carpet right beside your left foot. You yelp, squeezing into yourself. Your body trembling, terrified to move - to upset them in any way.

“It’s all about money with you people isn’t it?!”

The voice is alarmingly loud. It’s textured, deep in timbre, and slightly familiar. The man, undoubtedly so, leans into your face. He pulls the knife between you both causing another round of tears to fall like a river against your pinking cheeks.

The tip of the knife is pressed into your chin, guiding it up as it tickles against your neck. “There’s no amount of money that will save you now, little girl,” he whispers eerily. The blade digs into your chin, cutting against your flesh.

“Please,” you sob out. “Don’t kill me. God, please!”

“God can’t help you now.”

“Please! I’ll do anything. Please,” you cry. Your hand hesitantly reaches for his groin. Offering the man the last thing you could give, the last thing you could imagine he would want.

But he just watches you.

His mask digging against his chest as he peers down at you. Tears still falling through your lashes, you grab a tighter hold of the mass beneath his black jeans. You apply light pressure, only being firm in pulsating bursts. You can feel him hardening beneath you. It is enough leeway that you gain the courage to raise your eyes up to his masked face.

Struggling to speak, the words fall out broken and breathy. “Anything…” The ghostly mask is slow and steady as it tilts its head to the right. His hand violently falls to your wrist, pulling your hand from him.

You stare at him with horror in your eyes. This is it. He’s going to kill you. His grip tightens painfully around your wrist. You’ve tried everything. There’s nothing left to do…

“Anything?” He says as he rips your arm up. You stand, yelping in pain as he throws your arm back against the wall. He whispers, “Do you want it?” His dark, sunken eyes bare into you. There’s nothing there. They are empty, devoid of life and yet, it asks if you want it…

“Yes,” you blurt.

The ghost pushes against you, pinning you against the wall as he slides into the space beside your neck. You can feel the plastic of the mask pull at strands of your hair. You can hear a sniff as he gently raises off the chin of the plastic and rests a thick, warm tongue against your skin. You quiver as you feel his slick swarm up to your earlobe.

Your hand reaches for something, anything to get him off of you. You can feel his hot breath against your skin. You can feel your hairs prickle to their ends as you squeeze your eyes close. Your fingers brush against a hardened surface, hard and leathery. You feel the thick platform of one of your mother’s heels. Your fingers wrap around it before you can think.

Whack!

You hit it over his head, causing him to fumble and fall beside you. You take the opportunity to run out of the closet without skipping a beat. Your dad always told you to have a baseball bat under your bed - hopefully he follows through on his own advice. You fall to your knees and dig under your father’s side of the bed. You feel the curve of the wood at your fingertips, the joy in knowing that you were almost free from this horror show.

Just for your attacker’s hands to tangle into your hair again and knock you back harshly against your elbows. He crouches down in front of you, holding his hand flush against your neck as he squeezes between his thumb and index finger. Your body unsure of whether to prioritize your breathing or the sobs rising from your chest.

“I only want someone who wants it,” he growls. He takes a breath before continuing in a softer voice, “So, I’m going to ask you one more time. Do you want it?”

You pause to seriously consider the notion. Are you really about to give yourself, wholly, to someone you don’t know? Some freak behind a mask? Someone who just held a knife against your throat? And why does this sound oddly familiar to the beginning of your favorite porno?

“Is that the only way I’ll get out of here alive?”

The masked man laughs maniacally. A laugh that seems almost eerily familiar. Not the laugh of someone in her life now, but of someone from her past.

“Fuck around and find out.”

His words haunt you. It sends shivers down your spine. It creates a vomit inducing whirlwind in the pit of your stomach. What are you about to do…

“Yes, I want it,” you mutter under your breath with eyes glued to the carpet before you.

“On your knees.”

With a trembling lip, you push off of your elbows and land upon your knees. You place your hands in your lap as you see him move in your peripherals. Only then do you grow the courage to raise your gaze.

With his back turned, he slowly pulls down the black cloak wrapped around his body. With each tug of the cloth, a new area of skin is exposed. A skin that is pale, almost like he hasn’t seen the light of day.

He bends over to crash his knife against your parent’s bedside table. His body is thin, but muscular around the hips. Little dimples shining back at you just above his waist. A solid black line tattooed thick and a foot long curved around his ribcage. Little small indents between each and every rib.

He turns around with a swift twist and your eyes pull from him, fearful of the white, distorted face. You can see that he still keeps that mask on, even though you know what he’s about to have you do. One of the most intimate things you can do with a person and you won’t even see his face.

He rushes to grab the knife, seemingly upset with your wandering gaze. He pushes the tip against your chin once more, forcing your eyes upon him. He stands before you, sunken in forward-hanging hips. His chest is riddled with tattoos, filled with frightening spiders and demons that have you wondering exactly who you are kneeling before. His knife guides you closer to his crotch.

“Take them off,” he whispers, a new and terrifying voice.

Your hands slowly reach for his belt. He huffs with satisfaction as he abruptly pulls the knife from you, dropping it back against the table. You keep your eyes on the patch of hair trailing down his lower stomach.

Your body moves, detached and robotic, as you grab hold of the belt’s tongue. You push it back, unhooking it from its buckle. The black, tight textured leather pushes slightly off the tips of your fingers. Your lips begin to quiver as you pull the belt around his waist and his hips draw further forward.

You can see how his abdomen shifts with each breath. Shuddered and quick, almost like he wasn’t able to catch enough air. Was he nervous too?

With delicate hands, you twist the button through his black jeans. You can hear a weak exhale as the denim opens and spreads against the growing mass beneath. The heat resonates off of it and you begin to feel dizzy.

His breath is officially shaky and loud. Your fingers slowly curve around the band of his dark red boxers. There, you can see where the happy trail leads you. A light brown cloud of curls that makes you light headed and forces dirty, regretful thoughts to emerge. You pull just a little further, just to see a little more - just before his haunting grip wraps around your wrist once again.

“Ow,” you utter under your breath. This time you raise your eyes to him without hesitation. He stares back at you with a hand slowly floating to your face just before he presses his thumb against your lips. He is gentle, the first instance of soft touch, as he drags it across your mouth.

He quickly digs his thumb against your lower gum before pulling upon your lower lip. You let out a squeak, pain strikes your mouth as the tiny, little vein stretches between your gums and inner lip.

“Get this off, now.”

He rips his hand from your mouth, dropping your lip from his grasp. You run your tongue against your bottom lip, tasting the smallest bit of copper. You straighten up your back as you hook your fingers into his waistline. You tug his jeans and boxers, skinny and tight, down to his knees. He drops back onto the bed with legs wide and slightly bouncing as he shakes his pants down to his ankles.

You try to keep a straight face as you watch his cock flip back against his stomach. Swallowing hard, you place your hands at his upper thighs. You could feel him shuddering away from your touch. You were almost unsure if you were doing the right thing. If you had wildly misread the entire situation. Your eyes fall upon him, wanting some reassurance. He gives you a nod to continue.

You can feel yourself melting at the sight. A staff so incredibly stiff, standing at attention and waiting for your unholy lips to wrap around them. The warm pooling sensation tickling your clit feels sinful, feels wrong. Shouldn’t you be afraid?

And yet, you’re excited.

You catch yourself squeezing your knees tightly against each other. Your fingers rest at his base, feeling the firm vein throb beneath your fingertips. His breath hitches with every touch. You can tell that he struggles to keep his knees wide enough for your tits to press into the mattress between them.

You lick your lips as your eyes ogle over his length. Your fingers wrap around it and can barely meet each other on the other side. Frankly, a part of you wondered if it would fit - if you’d be able to hold your breath long enough. The other part was excited for the challenge.

Your fingers slowly begin to explore the tight skin. To feel every crevice and try your best not to imagine it inside. You pull back against his foreskin, revealing the head beneath. There you could see the translucent bead of precum awaiting your drooling tongue.

Without hesitation, you press the flesh of your tongue against his slit. You soak up the salty surprise while involuntarily squeezing his base. You can feel him pulling away, almost as though he was pushing off the bed - but you had him right where you wanted him.

Your thumb brushes against his slit, begging for just one more drop. Your hips are flush against the side of the mattress.You can feel them begin to grind against its firmness, around the same time you lower your lips around its head.

A soft, little groan floats in the air between you. His breath hitching with each and every lick. His body quivering beneath you, begging you for more. He clears his throat, hiding his moans as he tenderly grinds his waist against you.

The ghost of a man digs into the mattress with all of his weight. His breath is hot and harsh. His legs and abdomen grow tense beneath you. Silence fills the air as you flick your tongue around his head. A soft gentle stroke against his base.

You hollow your cheeks, taking him in. Your body begins to crave it. The memories of what happened just before gradually begin to dissipate with each suck. All you know now is what is before you. A twitching rod that perfectly fills your mouth.

Your eyes close with lashes fluttering beneath furrowed brows. Your hand works in tandem with your swallowing mouth. Your other hand lightly rubbing a thumb against his \ sack. You can feel yourself digging against the mattress. Your grip tightening. Your body moving as a never ending wave.

Everything is working with each other. You lose yourself. You’re not thinking of anything but him. Anything but making those sweet little moans come back.

After taking in a harsh breath, he smacks his lips and entangles his fingers through your hair. He grips onto a bundle of strands, applying pulsating pulls that fit along with your throbbing cunt. “God, just like that,” he mewls. His own hips slowly growing in strength as he ruts against your face. The movement now afflicts him, as you both create an ongoing wave of pleasure.

Everything about who or what he is falls away.

“Shhhit, fucking shit.”

Your pressure becomes harder and faster in rhythm. Your teeth gently press against the curve of his head. Your fingers rub against his perineum, spreading circles as his body shakes and quivers. “J - Just like that, don’t fucking stop,” he yells out, practically cracking his voice.

But his grip suddenly turns harsh as he pulls against that bundle of hair. You hum in pain, but continue taking him in. Taking in as much as you can before gagging against his engorged cock. Any time you pull away, you can see the strands of saliva connecting you both.

“Don’t you fucking stop, you whore.”

Both hands are suddenly gripping harshly against the back of your head. His hips thrusting up, strong and forceful. You can hear yourself choking against him while struggling to breathe. He holds you there, pressed down until he rips you away. You fall back onto your elbows once more, completely knocked off balance and gasping for breath.

You are reminded of the danger once more. Of who you are with, but this time fear doesn’t strike your heart.

You drag the back of your hand against your swollen lips. He pushes off the mattress swift and smooth. His hands now digging against the bones of your hips. Once getting a good grip, he throws you face first against the sturdy bed. His entire body is hot against you.

You feel the knife cool against your skin, just before he hooks it up and rips a slit down your shirt. You can feel him hard against your shorts, beginning to fit against you like a key. Suddenly, you feel kisses upon your lower back. You raise your head, trying to grab a glimpse but his large hands smash your face against the mattress. A brutal, “No” rings through the air.

His fingers dig into your waistline, ripping the shorts off of you until you rest ass up and on your knees once again. His hands press against your inner thighs, pushing your knees farther apart while keeping you stable against the top of the bed. His hand grips against the curve of your ass, holding it tight before slapping the muscle and watching it bounce. You jerk at the sensation. A white hot feeling runs through your chest creating a floating sensation.

You want this, oh god, do you want this.

He rips each side of your panties without hesitation. His thumb flush against your freshly bare clit as he rubs little circles that cause eyes to roll back into your head. You moan against the blanket as you grind your hips backwards onto him. Little taunting circular motions, begging him for his dick.

He pushes a finger inside of you before laying his chest flush against your back. You gasp as you feel him curl against your g-spot. He leans into your ear and you can feel the flickers of soft hair against your upper back.

“Tight for daddy,” he coos in a way that makes you clench around his thick finger. “Do you want it?”

“Yes.”

“Beg for it.”

“I need your cock. Please, please,” your begs are genuine as you feel the tensing pressure of him tickling your bumpy spot. He pushes your head against the mattress with just the right amount of force.

“You can do better than that. Beg for it like you begged for your life.”

“Please, please. I’ll do anything. Please fuck me. It hurts, and I need you to make me feel better. Please you can’t leave me like this.” Your body is aggressively grinding back as you cry out for him, forcing his finger in and out of you with each of your movements.

You can feel his breath hitch as his other hand digs crescent shaped moons around your waist. “Good girl.” You hear the rip of a wrapper as you lean into your elbows. You wish you could be free, free of this clothing. It is unbearably hot. You wish you could see him, mask and all, just to have your tits exposed for him - for him to put them in his mouth.

Slowly, you feel pressure against your opening. His rather large head pushing, spreading your lips and soaking in your juices. Despite how delicate his hands are, he bottoms out within you in one solid swoop. Only the slightest bit of discomfort, seeing as he got you nice and wet before exploring your insides.

You scream, louder than you’ve ever allowed yourself to be with another person. A scream of pleasure. You can feel his hand thick against your spine as he props himself up by using you as a base. His thrusts are slow, dragging against every single part of your gummy walls.

“Fuuuucck,” he whimpers. “God, you feel so good.”

Gradually, his pacing becomes rapid and rampant. You can feel yourself almost giving in, giving in to the red hot of your body and wanting to watch from above. A level of pleasure that you have never reached before - now, never wanting to leave.

He falls against your back again with a hand now thickly entangled within your hair. He pulls you back, tilting your head to bring your face closer to his own. He bends down to whisper, “I need to hear you. I need everyone to hear you.”

His rhythm is quick and steady. It causes butterflies to flutter across your chest and down your arms. You cry out, fumbling the words, begging for more from your new god. God of sex, god of pleasure, god of ecstacy. How does he know exactly where to touch you to make your nipples harden and feel ripples of goose bumps across your skin? How could two bodies that have never touched before fit so perfectly into each other?

You lean back against his cock, sliding in and out of you. Forcing your opening to tighten even more, desperate not to let him go. “Oh - just like that. Don’t you fucking stop. Don’t you fucking stop doing that. God…” his voice drowns out.

Your entire body feels on fire. A pit in your stomach and you need to burst, but you couldn’t - not without him. “Shit, shit, shit, shit, shiiiit,” you whine as you press your forehead against the mattress. “Harder!” You demand, and he does just that.

His hands grip around you, holding you right where he wants you before slapping you back harsh against his hip bones. Little bit of pain, but what’s pleasure without it? “Oh god, yes,” you cry out. Your voice whimpering as eyes roll to the back of your head. “God, fuck yes!”

He rips at your hair, pulling you back to look up to the ceiling as he fucks you silly. Your back arching against his sweaty chest. Your eyes remain closed but your mouth is gaping, begging for anything. Your hips rutting as he flickers deep within you. “Don’t stop - don’t you fucking stop,” he says with a quivering voice.

“I’m gonna - “ he yells out. “Oh, oh, god. Oh god.” His voice hitches at the very end, right when you feel him press harshly against your hips and hold you there. Your entire body begins to spasm. All dams now cracked and destroyed as your walls squeeze around him.

You can feel him twitching inside you, bursting with ecstasy. You can feel his hand at the base of your spine before he slowly pulls from you. You clench and gripe, not wanting him to leave - to just stay inside filling you with his cum.

As he pulls out of you, you roll over, feeling the warmth begin to drip down your bum. Hoping to catch just a glimpse but he is already facing the wall. Somehow the mask already on. He pulls up his jeans, resting them lazily against his hip bones. He reaches for his knife, holding it in his hand as he turns back to you.

“I won’t say anything,” falls from your lips faster than you’d like. You raise your hands to your side, taking quick breaths as nerves ripple throughout you. “If you promise to come back.” The words fall soft and sweet. You are completely genuine and, truly, not yet ready for him to leave.

Your masked murderer, now a new favorite fuck buddy. A dick worth dreaming about. A dick worth waiting for.

He rushes you, hand to neck, digging his hips into you. His knife shines beside your face as he twists it. The act no longer causes a gasp to fall from your lips. You lean into it, wanting him - all of him. He lightly drags it against your cheeks, down your jaw, neck, collar bone, leaving no marks in its place.

Once it hooks against the hem of your shirt, his hand grabs at your collar before slicing his knife down the middle of your shirt and revealing the bra beneath. You breath hitches, only slightly expecting to be killed on the spot, but now completely infatuated with how much he continues to surprise you.

With a swift clip, he swings his knife at the pretty little bow between the cups of your bra - revealing your nipples as the cloth falls past your waist. He drags the blade against your sternum before tracing circles around the flesh of your breast and nipples.

“I promise.”

note: proud of this & hoping ii didn't cross any lines (please let me know if i did), i hope you liked it! don't forget to reblog or i'll sick ghost face eddie on you 👹

coming up next sunday → week three: bondage with spencer reid

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#eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #ghostface #ghostface!eddie #ghost face eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #lazyghoulskinktober2023

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