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fandomwritingbit · 8 months

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👻Hallowe'en Special👻

Ghosting.

Michael Afton x fem!reader.

Synop: After being abandoned by a friend at a stellar Halloween party, reader hooks up with someone in a Ghostface costume... turns out to be Michael Afton. This is a very distant sequel to Hateful with both Mike and reader being arseholes with an enemies to lovers thing going on.

Warnings: drinking, swearing, horniness, smut, public sex.

You’ve been looking forward to tonight for months. A friend of a friend spread the word about their ‘killer halloween party’ almost as soon as August rolled around and rumours of fancy dress, live music and drinking games followed suit. It sounded like just what you needed to perk you up after weeks of studying.

And now, looking at your costume laid on your bed, you can’t help but grin, it’s cheesy and a little old-fashioned, but hey, if it ain’t broke…

You’ve spent much too long getting it just right, using several sharpies, glitter and lipstick to perfect the face on your blanket, huge eyelashes on top of your eye cut-outs and big pouting lips. A fucking perfect, tarted-up blanket ghost. You complete the set-up with a pair of fishnets and chunky heels, unable to hold in your giggles when you check out the outfit in your mirror.

“Oh my god, you look crazy.” Your friend Gemma laughs, looking at herself in the reflection next to you, her playboy bunny costume a much more basic choice than yours. One could argue a more sensible one too, because you'd had to layer up so all your secrets couldn't be exposed by one big gust of wind.

“Yeah, crazy hot.” You put your hands on your hips and pose, both of you tittering like schoolgirls. It is funny, but you’re aware that the pre-drinks you’ve had are probably making it seem funnier than it is.

Your friend grabs a jacket and slings it over her shoulders, gesturing with her head that it’s time to go. “Can you even see anything?” She asks as you join her outside, looking at you sceptically as you turn around to lock your apartment door, missing the keyhole on the first try.

If she could see your face, your eye rolling would be very evident. “Yeah. I know what I’m doing.” You bring your hands to the lips of the blanket, “I even cut a hole so I can stick a straw through.” Showing her by sticking your tongue through the gap, though quickly cringing at the feeling and taste of the fabric.

“Oooh, she’s prepared.” Gemma says sarcastically, before putting a hand on your shoulder and all but forcing you to get a move on, you don’t want to be more than fashionably late after all.

One giggly taxi ride later, you and her are struggling to get out of the car without flashing anyone. And then, you're heading up the front steps to the house, where the party is already in the swing of things. A werewolf sits next to an inflatable flamingo on the steps, one smoking, the other vaping, you’re admiring their costumes when you realise the wolf is a lad from your tutor, so you stop to tell him how amazing he looks.

“Come on, y/n.” Your friend again takes your arm, her voice faux-whining. “We haven’t even got drinks yet, you can mingle in a second.”

You let her guide you, though not without a sharp glare, quickly turning to the wolf before you go, “See you later, Joe!”

As you step away, she grins at you, almost knocking over a witch’s drink sitting beside her on the top step. “Really gushing over Hoe-seph, huh?” She wiggles her eyebrows, her tone a little condescending.

You can’t help but laugh, “Shut up, you knob.” you nudge her, making her wobble on her huge heels. “You’ve got to admit he looks great.”

She scoffs in response. “Sure, he does. But it’s fucking Joe! We can do better tonight.”

…

So much for that, you think to yourself as you sip probably the cheapest lager you’ve ever tried through a curly straw. Not even an hour after you and her had arrived, she’d found a group of people she knew from law studies and buggered off with them. Right now, you can see her bunny ears peeking over the crowd and swaying slightly to the music.

You probably should have anticipated being on your lonesome.

Though that doesn’t make it any less shit.

“You alright, y/n? You here all on your own?” Someone you recognise talks loudly over the music, pulling you out of your silent thought.

You sigh, though they probably can’t hear the extent of it. “Yeah… Gemma pulled her signature move and left me in the dust.” You try to explain, having to repeat the words twice before they understand. When they do, their expression shifts in pity and they put a hand on your shoulder.

“Awww, come drink with us then, screw her.” You pull a face as you consider, before nodding and following them over to the kitchen where they and six others stand around an island drinking. It’s much brighter in there with the big lights on and you blink after being so used to the muted multi-colour lights of the living room.

Your new buddy catches your reaction. “Hey, don’t let the light sober you up. What are you drinking?” They ask, and man, you really need to buck up and ask their name.

“Uhh… whatever this is.” You twist the bottle around so they can see the label and their expression instantly reveals disapproval. Which you completely understand.

“You want another one of them?” A bloke standing next to the fridge pipes up, who you'll come to learn is called Ash.

“...Not really.” You admit and they laugh.

“Vod and coke?” Your saviour prompts with a huge bottle of smirnoff in their hand and you beam under your costume.

“Now we’re talking.”

As enjoyable as the change in drink was, it didn’t take much for it to take effect and pretty soon you’re hanging off the arm of someone you've just formed a strong drunken friendship with, and singing along to someone’s halloween playlist.

The drunkenness itself wasn’t so bad, everyone else was too and surprisingly this group was an excellent match of personalities. The main problem was that drink makes you horny. Like seriously horny. Horny enough to scan these people for a viable and interested partner. But you swiftly realise the seven of you are made up of two couples, someone that doesn't date girls and that Ash guy.

You struggle to think of who around could be your hook up. Yes, you could go find your werewolf friend, or his flamingo buddy, but that doesn’t feel too appealing.

“I’m gonna go outside… I want to smoke.” You try not to slur your words, and pat the arm of the person that led you to this drunken safe haven as you walk, or rather stumble, past. The struggle is real, especially in these heels, but you manage it. Squeezing through masses of guests and trying not to get decked by tipsy people dancing, some of them shouted sorrys at you, others stared after your form like you were in the wrong.

The cool night air was pleasant and you soak it all in as you check faces around. You recognise lots of people even through costumes but you know them too well for a quick drunken hook up, and there's no need to make your social circles awkward. But, god, you’re thirsting.

Moving down the steps and being really careful not to slip, you pull a packet of cigarettes out from under your blanket, the box warm from being pressed against your skin for so long. Then you go down the side of the house, flinching when a motion-sensor light kicks into life and illuminates the path in a dingy yellow light. It’s like the party doesn’t exist back here, the noise completely dying when you turn the corner into the back garden.

And that’s when you see him. Some guy in a full Ghostface get-up, one glove pulled up to let him scroll through his Instagram feed. You can’t help but grin under your covering, you have a special place in your heart for Ghostface, the movie one of your favourites for many reasons. Not all of them wholesome.

Placing the cigarette through the slit in your costume, you light up. Taking yourself over to slasher and standing beside him.

“Uhh hey…” He turns to you tilting his head, no doubt trying to figure out who you were under your mask and failing. “That costume is-”

You smirk as you cut him off, “Amazing? I know. Proving to be a little inconvenient though.”

“Yeah I’ll bet. Do I know you?” You make a humming noise, trying to decide if you want to know who he is. There’s something really hot about the anonymity of it, hell you can play with the idea of a Matthew Lillard or Skeet Ulrich under there. And just the thought of that spurs you on immensely.

“I’m not sure. But there’s fun in that.” The guy nods, but you can imagine a look of confusion under that sexy mask. You’re not usually this bold, but liquid courage and boredom can make anyone risqué.

The two of you fall silent for a moment, before you break it teasingly, “Well, aren’t you going to ask me?”

Ghostface scoffs in hesitation before he bites the lure. “Ask you what?”

You dramatically place a hand on your chest as you pretend to gasp. “... The Question. From the movie, you know, the one Ghostface is famous for?”

“Ohh.” he laughs as he catches on. A hand digging in his robe for a small black device that looks like a radio. He holds it up to the mask and does as you ask, “... What’s your favourite scary movie?” The voice changer is scarily movie accurate, that iconic voice that is the perfect mixture of terrifying and ridiculously hot.

You gasp for real this time, losing yourself in giggles, “That is awesome, holy shit.” You move a little closer, deciding that yeah, you want to test the waters with this fella. “Scream…” You answer, “Because I think Ghostface is really hot.”

The flirtation in your tone isn’t hard to miss and although he’s surprised you just walked up to him and staked a claim, he certainly isn’t complaining. “Yeah?”

You nod, alcohol making you brave enough to lay all your cards on the table. You lift up the hem of your blanket slowly to show him how good your upper thighs look in these fishnets. “You interested?”

He laughs, “Hell yeah.”

Right there against the back of the house you pull the sheet up over your hips and your little shorts down, grinning in excitement as you watch him pull his gloves off and set about doing the same. He tries to help you take the fishnets down, but at this point you just hook your fingers into the holes and rip them enough to allow him access to your slick seam. “Fuck.” he breaths when his fingers come into contact with your wetness. How the hell has he gotten this lucky tonight?

The vodka in your veins doesn’t let you feel the cold, right now there’s nothing you want more than a good fuck and you hope that whoever is gripping your hips right now can do that for you. And judging by how quickly he finds your clit and begins to slowly rub circles, he absolutely can.

It’s clumsy, but exactly what you want and pretty soon you’re arching your back and pulling at the waistband of his boxers. You free his cock and he’s delightfully big and thick in your hands, so much so that you have to commend yourself, you really picked a good one here. Your hurried grabbing of his dick pushes him to press into you, hands cupping under your behind and lifting you to his perfect angle. It’s unexpected and you grab onto his shoulders to steady yourself, leaving him to slide his cock between your folds, coating himself in your slick, before pressing firmly inside you.

“Shit-” You hiss instantly, a buzz in your core becoming apparent at the gorgeous feeling of him filling you up. You move your hips against him as much as you can, spurring him on to a rough pace of fucking in and out of you. Neither of you consider that you’re completely exposed, lewdly hooking up outside next to someone’s house, anyone could come round the back and catch the two of you but that’s the furthest thing from your mind.

His grunts match the pace that’s quickly bringing both of you to your ends, gradually becoming whiny as he tries to make you come before finishing, but your tight walls are making that fairly difficult, as are the sweet sounds he’s pulling from you. He doesn’t realise how close you are and so the second he again starts to stroke your clit, the waves of your climax hit you hard. Your pussy sporadically tightens around him as you cum, your head tilting back against the wall and just like that he has to pull out, his release immediately hot and sticky on the top of your thighs. He thrusts into his hand as he finishes, groans dripping from his lips.

By now you’re recovered enough to be annoyed that he’s covered your lower body in cum and you push against him to get him off of you. He obeys and leans against the wall next to you, both of you staring forward for a moment of realisation. How the Hell are you supposed to go back in there with this costume fucking sticking to you? God, you probably should have discussed logistics beforehand but hindsight is 20/20, huh? Your still tipsy brain nearly laughs at the situation but stops when the bloke next to you starts shifting in his costume, grabbing at his mask in an almost panicky way.

He manages to pry it off and closes his eyes for a moment. The very moment he does you practically jump 30 feet in the air. A gross knowledge snapping through you so fast, you swear you touch all five bases on the grief scale. Your Ghostface was fucking Michael. Michael Pissing Afton. “Oh. Fucking Christ.” You snap out of nowhere, making Mike flinch.

“Woah, what? What’s wrong?” Your reaction is so strong he thinks you must be in pain of something and swiftly turns towards you, hands hovering over you like you were about to hit the deck.

You neglect to answer him, just angrily pulling the blanket up and tearing it off your form with an exasperated sigh. Only Michael Afton could make you completely sober in the span of two seconds.

He watches with wide eyes and almost winces when he reaches the same conclusion you did. “Y/n?” He laughs a little in surprise, still staring as you toss your costume on the floor and stand there in the tiniest shorts and top going. “Why didn’t you say anything?!”

You scoff, “I didn’t fucking know, did I?” You say loudly, the silence following it deafening. Honest to God, how didn’t you realise sooner? You definitely should recognise him from your fling nearly a year ago- must be the alcohol, but still, if you’d have known you probably would have shopped around a bit before settling for Michael Fucking Afton.

A stupid smug smirk coats his lips, that pinch between your brows is just funny. He speaks through a chuckle, “I actually can’t believe it’s you… How’re you doing, it’s been a while?”

The sharp gaze you fix him with just makes him laugh harder. “Yeah, that was intentional.”

And there was that side of you that got on his last nerve, props to your attitude for being able to ruin a perfectly good shag. “Why are you pissed off? You came on to me.” He asks the questions incredulously, his tone irritating.

“Huh, bet that’s a first.” You retort, a condescending smile increasing tenfold when he scowls.

How in the name of all that is holy did this happen?

A/n: Hope you enjoyed, stay tuned for the next one xxx

#fnaf #michael afton #michael afton x reader #michael afton x you #michael afton smut #FWB's halloween event #fnaf smut

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artaxlivs · 7 months

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Ooh I love it!

It's already past midnight here and I really should be in bed already but I had to send in an ask!

I'll ask for a treat! 🍧🍩🍪🍬🍯🎂🧁🍫🍭😘

Anything is fine by me I don't think I have any hard no's and any rating is also fine!

Can't wait for the ooky spooky/Halloween vibes!

☠️⚰️🎃👻💀🕷️🕸️😈🗡️🖤

Treat it is babes!

"Steve, come on," Dustin wheedles, "You promised!"

"I know, I'm doing it, I just think you should have warned me there would be a wig." Especially since he could have saved the 30 minutes it had taken to make his hair look this naturally perfect. Steve sighs and pulls the scraggly brown wig on. "Who am I again?"

All four of the boys are barefoot, wearing pants cut off at the shins, button up shirts and suspenders. Dustin and Lucas are in vests. All five of them warm against the autumn chill in thick capes. Most of Steve's outfit is in varying shades of dark brown. The boots are kind of fancy and the fake sword on his hip is kinda cool. He's not gonna admit that part but it's bringing out some long forgotten little boy urge to have a pretend sword fight on the front lawn.

Sighing, Lucas says, "You're Aragorn, the rightful king of Gondor. In the Lord of the Rings books. He's the badass." He clips a smaller sword to his own belt, "remember we told you about Gondor?"

Sort of. Steve was only half listening.

Mike yanks open the basement door that leads to the side yard, "Let's go, I heard Eddie's van pull up!"

The boys all excitedly race out, empty pillow cases flapping behind them. There's so shrieking and Steve hears Robin excitedly shouting about hobbits. Steve's pretty sure that's what Dustin said the boys were. Finally he heads outside, pulling the door shut behind him.

He doesn't even make it around the house before Eddie's grabbing his arm and dragging him back inside to shove him against the basement door. "Harrington. You need to warn me if you're going to dress up like every wet dream I've ever had." The kiss is too wet and too aggressive but Steve's very into it.

Between one breath and the next Eddie is dropping to his knees and pulling at the fastener on Steve's pants. "Oh my god, Steve, I can't - fuck, Jesus, this is, oh my god, just shut up." '

"I haven't even said anything." Steve gasps as he dick is freed from his pants.

"Boys? Are you still down there?" Mrs. Wheeler calls down from the top of the stairs and Steve immediately stills.

"It's just me Mrs. Wheeler, I needed to fix my costume before we start walking around." Steve calls up, pushing Eddie's hands off of him and tucking himself back in carefully. "Headed out now, I'll keep an eye on them." He smacks Eddie's roving hands and drags his boyfriend up to shove out him out the basement door.

Pulling Eddie along behind him, Steve says with a smug little smile, glad he at least remembers this part, "Come on, Gondor calls for aid."

"Oh fuck you, Harrington." Eddie growls.

#trick or treat asks #LOTR #stranger things #steddie #hobbitses #Eddie was dressed as Faramir

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