#ghostface x gn reader

[defectivevillain]

born into blood

pairing: Ghostface/Reader (can be platonic or romantic)

reader's race and gender are ambiguous; no pronouns or physical descriptors are used.

summary: Christina Carpenter wasn’t the only woman to have an affair with Billy Loomis… Your mother did too. You’re Billy’s child, just like Sam Carpenter. But you saw what happened to Sam, so you keep silent. Your father’s real identity is a secret you will take to your grave. At least, that’s what you think. Then, one day, Ghostface comes calling…

word count: 2.2k | ao3 version

warnings: canon-typical violence, character death; attempted murder, strangulation, blood, hallucinations; scream (2022) spoilers.

notes: I wrote Ghostface with he/him pronouns, but he remains nameless—so feel free to imagine whichever killer you want.

thank you @palefaceswhore for the beta! 🖤 any remaining mistakes are mine.

You don’t usually answer phone calls from unidentified numbers. But you had a job interview a few days ago, and you still haven’t gotten a response from the company, so you accept the call and bring your phone up to your ear with hope brewing in your chest. You thought you did a decent job in the interview, and you hope the recruiters thought the same. 

For a moment, there’s nothing but the sound of breath on the other line. Dread begins to prickle across your skin. Your tongue feels stuck to the roof of your mouth. Just as you summon the courage to speak, the other person speaks. “What’s your favorite scary movie?”  

A shiver runs down your spine at the familiar voice. You immediately hang up and slam your phone face-down on the table. With quick breaths, you pick up your phone and shakily open your phone app again, blocking the contact. It’s not the first time you’ve gotten a prank call mimicking Ghostface, unfortunately—since the Stab movies first came out, unruly teenagers have started doing it rather frequently. But your particular situation is a bit different than that of the average person. After all, Billy Loomis is your father. 

For the longest time, you had no idea. But once you turned sixteen, your mother sat you down and told you the truth: she had an affair during her marriage, and that affair resulted in your birth. Safe to say, you were sick to your stomach. That revelation only proved to be much worse, however, when she revealed exactly who she slept with: Billy Loomis, one of the original Ghostface killers. A murderer. 

It took you a long time for you to begin trusting your mother again. And a small part of you knows that you’ll never look at her the same again—both because of what she did and because of the years she spent keeping it a secret from you. When you finally moved out of her house, you were mostly relieved. Leaving that house meant leaving it all behind. You didn’t have to meet your mother’s eyes and see a killer’s malice reflected in them any longer. 

Time passed and you slowly moved on. Ultimately, you decided that it would be ridiculously dangerous for you to tell anyone. You’ve kept that promise to yourself since your mother first confessed the identity of your father to you. You can only hope the secret dies a swift death, never seeing the light of day. After all, Billy Loomis is dead. You can take comfort in that… right? 

Then you hear about Sam Carpenter, and everything comes rushing back. The world had slowly moved on from Billy Loomis, as the Ghostface mask was passed from killer to killer. But once Sam Carpenter was unwittingly thrust into the public eye, you saw your quiet life slowly crumbling before you. You didn’t need to know Sam personally to know how she must’ve been treated for her parentage. The public villainized her—even with incontrovertible proof that she wasn’t the killer. Ghostface is everywhere now. You can’t avoid him, no matter how hard you try. All you can do… is hope that no one else discovers the identity of your father—otherwise you’ll be pursued with vengeance, just as Sam and her friends were. 

A ringing sound draws you from your thoughts. You frown and walk through your living room, attempting to discern the source of the noise. Once you walk into the kitchen, you realize that it’s your landline—the one that was supposedly disconnected. You’ve never given out that number to anyone. Hell, the phone hasn’t been used in years. It rings again and you flinch, before shaking your head in disbelief.  You should just ignore the call, obviously. But that’s against the rules, a voice in your head whispers. In the movies, if you don’t answer, he’ll just come out and stab you in the back. At least this way, maybe he’ll give you a chance at life. You know this isn’t a Stab movie… but your hand moves of its own accord, grabbing the phone and bringing it to your ear. 

“That wasn’t very nice.” That warped, deepened voice sends chills down your spine.  “Don’t try that again.” 

You’re starting to think that maybe, just maybe, it isn’t a prank call. And on the small chance that this is really happening—that Ghostface himself is calling you—hanging up would be a death sentence. You swallow hard and remain on the line, despite everything in your head screaming at you to hang up and run away as fast as you can. You try to take slow, measured breaths as you look around the room for signs of his presence. You don’t see anything. 

“Good,” Ghostface says patronizingly. You try to take a deep breath. It isn’t your father. But that doesn’t quite matter—that deepened, warped voice still reminds you of him. “Now, let’s try that again. What’s your favorite scary movie?”

You rack your brain and try to think of something to say. “… Saw," you eventually respond. Admittedly, it’s hard to focus on the conversation. All you can think about is the high probability that Ghostface is outside of your home—or, hell, even in it—already. 

“Really?” Ghostface hums interestedly. “Not Stab?”

“No,” you respond, your heart jumping in your throat. The mere mention of the movie franchise is enough to make you nervous, as you remember your father. Something stews in your chest and your fingers tighten around the phone as you hold it to your ear. 

“Why not?” Ghostface asks innocently. His voice is mocking. “It’s about your father, after all.”

You’re silent, entirely frozen as a victorious cackle sounds through your phone. 

“Oh, you thought no one knew?” he continues. “Billy Loomis was a player, and that’s no secret.” 

“What do you want from me?” you choke out. You’ve spent more than twenty years outrunning your father’s reputation—doing everything in your power to ensure that no one ever knew your connection to him. And now it’s all slipping away from you. All your hard work is slipping down the drain, falling through your fingers like granules of sand. 

As if sensing your unease and distress, Ghostface’s voice has a triumphant lilt to it. “What I want…” he breaks off, “is for you to give in.” You stare ahead in shocked silence. The taste of bile settles on your tongue. “It’s time for you to carry on your father’s legacy.” 

The call abruptly ends. Immediately, you whip around and brace yourself against the kitchen counter, dread churning in your chest. You’ve seen the Stab movies—once Ghostface hangs up, he reveals himself to his victim. You grit your teeth and frantically search your drawers for a knife. When your hand closes around the knife, you turn around to find Ghostface standing right in front of you. The knife in his hand glitters at you mockingly. 

“Come on,” he says, his voice still distorted and deep. You squint at him, surprised that you don’t see him holding a voice changer in his hand. There must be something fixed to the inside of his mask. Unfortunately, you’re not given the luxury to muse on that thought, as he steps even closer and forces you to back up against the counter, before standing still. You can sense his eyes boring into you through the mask. “I’ll give you a free shot. It’s your birthright.” Ghostface reaches out with his free hand, taking your hand in his and tilting your knife up until it points at his shoulder. 

You swallow hard, your heart thundering in your chest as you try to grasp the reality of the situation you find yourself in. You’re standing before a killer and he’s willingly giving you a chance to weaken him. Despite knowing that you should take the shot he’s giving you, all it takes is a flicker of your father’s visage in your mind’s eye for you to shake your head stubbornly. Making the first move is far more difficult in reality than you expect it to be. Besides, while he’s certainly antagonized you, Ghostface hasn’t actually harmed you yet. Stabbing him without being provoked isn’t something you can get yourself to do, no matter how hard you try to tell yourself that you need this advantage he’s giving you. 

Silence stretches on, settling in the air between you. Ghostface is standing far too close for you to be comfortable, and his grip on your arm is extremely tight. Eventually, he exhales. “I gave you a chance,” the killer shrugs. Despite that statement, he’s still grasping your hand. “Now, I’m afraid your cameo has come to an end… The killer’s child becomes the victim. It’s poetic justice!” 

You don’t get a chance to pick apart that statement before Ghostface is lodging his knife into your left side and pulling it back out forcefully. You scream, quickly pressing a hand to the wound in a rather futile attempt to stop the bleeding. As you fall to your knees, you return the blow and sink your knife into his thigh. He hisses and falls to the side, giving you time to sweep his feet out from under him and clumsily get to your feet. Through your pain-hazed vision, you manage to navigate through your kitchen and into the living room. Remembering your phone in your pocket, you take it out and attempt to call emergency services, only for Ghostface to slam into you and tackle you to the floor. You try to throw him off, but he looms over you and tries to stab you again. You manage to roll to the side, letting out an uncomfortable hiss as the movement sends pain flaring up your side. His knife lodges into the floor beneath you with a solid thunk. 

“That’s it,” he spits, grabbing your shirt collar. “Bastard.” The insult is punctuated by a harsh thud, which you realize moments later to be the sound of your head hitting the ground. Your vision is spiraling and blurring as his hands move to your throat. You immediately try to push him off.

Suddenly a bright light flashes before your eyes, and your father is staring down at you with an unreadable expression. His eyes fall to something near your side and you follow his gaze, remembering the knife that is still lodged into the ground. In his enraged fervor, the killer hasn’t seemed to notice it. It’s nearly right in front of him—you’ll have to be very quick to grab it. Your vision is practically pulsing at this point, but even through the blurriness, you can see Billy Loomis’s twisted grin.

Ghostface brutally tightens his grip on your throat and rips the air from your lungs. You’re writhing and thrashing against him, but his hold is strong and unflinching. You don’t have much time, so you make a grab for the knife and manage to free it from the floorboards. It clatters to the ground and suddenly, both you and Ghostface are reaching for the weapon. With a stretch that sends bolts of pain down your forearm, you manage to clasp the knife first—and you don’t hesitate to bury it into Ghostface’s neck. His hands fall from your neck and you frantically inhale, coughing and choking as you push yourself to your knees. Saliva falls from your lips and you wipe at it with your free hand, before focusing your attention on Ghostface once more. He’s sprawled on the ground before you, clasping at his neck in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding. But blood is positively oozing out of him, and his form promptly slackens. 

You’re still not convinced. Doesn’t the killer always miraculously lurch forward at the last moment, when the victim thinks they’re dead? You decide you’d rather not test that theory, and settle for yanking the knife back out of his neck. The blood loss will kill him, if he isn’t already dead. 

After a few more moments staring down at Ghostface and contemplating your next move, you grab at his wrist and feel for a pulse. There’s nothing—a notion further punctuated by the way his arm promptly crashes to the floor when you release it. Your attacker is dead. 

The adrenaline that kept you alive begins to fade, leaving you with a bone-deep ache and a stinging sensation in your side. The knife slips from your grasp and falls to the floor with a deafening clatter. Ghostface’s blood is pooling beneath him, and your hands are painted crimson with it. You’re shaking extremely hard, your chest burning from your near suffocation only moments prior. Your equilibrium is all off, and you’re forced to watch from an outsider’s perspective as the world sways and tilts to the side as you fall back down to the ground. Shadows are crawling across the room; when you blink, you see black boots on the ground next to you. Your father crouches down and stares at you, his expression unreadable through your foggy vision. He almost looks to be resisting the urge to reach out to you. A tear crawls down your cheek as you hear sirens in the distance. 

“Well done," Billy Loomis says, his voice reverberating through your ears. He crouches down even more, until he’s sitting next to you. With ghosts for company and pain stitching your body together, your vision quickly fades to black. 

thanks for reading! <3

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[hyuniemyunie]

Scream, Swoon, Repeat

billy loomis & stu macher x gn!reader

sfw

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

(ФωФ): established relationship, pure fluff, lots of kissing and affection. a few random ideas i had idk its just fluff

i love writing physical touch and fluff stuff omfg. haha how could you tell im touch starve-

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･

A full day of doing absolutely nothing except smothering your two favorite psychos with affection? Yeah, that was the plan.

The problem?

Billy and Stu suck at being doted on.

Stu is the easier target. He wakes up a mess, limbs sprawled over the bed, half his face shoved into the pillow, mumbling nonsense about “aliens stealing his popcorn.” It makes him way too easy to attack.

You climb on top of him, pinning him down, pressing soft kisses along his jawline.

"Mmm," Stu groans, voice raspy with sleep, "’s too early for makin’ out, babe."

"Is it? Because I don’t care," you hum against his skin, trailing kisses up to the corner of his mouth.

His lips twitch, but before he can respond, you smother him completely, peppering kisses across his cheeks, nose, eyelids—everywhere.

"Jesus, get a room—"

Billy barely gets the words out before you pounce on him next.

"Oh, you’re not getting away either," you warn.

Billy scowls, but the second you cup his face and press a slow, lingering kiss to his lips, he melts. His hands instinctively find your waist, grip tightening, like he’s about to flip you over and take control—

But not today.

You pull back just before he can deepen it, grinning. "Nah-uh. Today, I’m in charge."

Billy narrows his eyes. "Oh yeah? We’ll see about that."

Stu groans, shoving his face into a pillow. "Ugh, you guys are so hot. I hate it."

---

Dragging them outside was a challenge. Billy had no interest in leaving the damn house, and Stu—while willing—was easily distracted.

"Babe, let’s get ice cream!"

"Babe, let’s go shoplift some candy!"

"Babe, I dare you to kiss me in front of that old lady at the bus stop—"

Stu, unsurprisingly, had no shame. He loved public affection, wrapping himself around you like an overgrown golden retriever. At some point, he slung an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his chest dramatically. “Look at my beautiful, gorgeous partner. What did I do to deserve this? Am I dead? Is this heaven?”

You rolled your eyes, but before you could say anything, Billy—who had been quiet the entire time—leaned in and pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

Casual. Effortless. Like it was nothing.

Stu nearly choked. “DID YOU JUST—WAIT, HOLD ON, DID YOU JUST—"

Billy, already walking ahead, didn’t even turn around. “You’re embarrassing.”

Stu gasped. “Oh, I see how it is. I get called embarrassing, but you get to be all suave and mysterious?”

You just laughed, grabbing Stu’s hand and pulling him along.

---

By the time night rolled in, Billy was done. The sheer amount of affection you had dumped on him today was practically overwhelming, and you knew he’d never admit how much he secretly liked it.

So when you cuddled up next to him on the couch, lazily playing with his fingers while a horror movie played in the background, you weren’t surprised when he grumbled, “You’re annoying.”

"And yet you’re still letting me do this," you mused, pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles.

Billy didn’t respond, but his grip on your hand tightened.

Stu, meanwhile, was half-dead on the other side of the couch, sprawled out across your lap. His head rested against your stomach, and every so often, he’d shift just to nuzzle closer.

"Man, today was amazing," Stu sighed dramatically. "I vote we do this every day. Just endless kissing. No murder. Just smooching."

Billy shot him a look. "We have priorities, Stu."

"Yeah, yeah, priorities, blah blah—babe, kiss me again," Stu whined, nudging his head against you.

Billy rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath, but he didn’t stop you when you leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to Stu’s forehead.

And later, when the lights were off and the three of you were tangled together under the covers, Billy was the one to initiate a slow, lazy kiss against your temple before whispering, "Go to sleep, dumbass."

You smirked in the dark. "Love you too, Billy."

From the other side of the bed, Stu hummed, half-asleep. "Love you both, man. Like… so much. Like, insane levels. Like, I’d literally—"

Billy shoved a pillow over his face.

"Go to sleep, Stu."

---

The next morning, you woke up sore.

Not from anything particularly wild—just the sheer weight of two grown men practically crushing you in their sleep.

Stu had draped himself across you at some point in the night, his leg slung over your waist like a human seatbelt. Billy, on the other hand, had an iron grip around your torso, his face buried in your shoulder.

Trying to move was impossible.

You groaned. "Guys, I love you, but you’re both insanely heavy."

Stu mumbled something unintelligible, nuzzling his face into your stomach like a content cat. Billy just tightened his hold, making it very clear that he had no intention of moving.

You huffed, wiggling your arms free. "Fine. Guess I’ll just be trapped here forever."

Stu yawned dramatically. "Forever sounds kinda nice… ‘s long as there’s breakfast."

Billy finally stirred, shifting slightly, but instead of letting you go, he pressed a slow, lazy kiss to your collarbone. It was so casual—so effortless—that it sent a shiver down your spine.

Oh. So that’s how it was gonna be today.

"Alright, nope—" you shoved at his chest, but he barely budged, "—you’re not getting away with acting like that after ignoring me all day yesterday."

Billy smirked against your skin. "I ignored you?"

"Emotionally, yes."

"Bullshit." He finally leaned up, resting his chin on your shoulder. "I let you kiss me all damn day."

"Exactly! I let you kiss me."

"Ohhh, someone wants Billy’s full attention today," Stu teased, grinning. He propped himself up on one elbow, his hair a mess from sleep. "I get it, babe. Billy’s a hard guy to crack. But lucky for you—" he leaned in dramatically, voice dropping into a whisper, "—I’m easy."

You snorted, pushing his face away. "That is not the flex you think it is, Stu."

"Hey, shut up and gimme a kiss."

Before you could react, he flopped onto you again, his lips pressing against your cheek in a series of obnoxiously loud, wet smooches.

"Mwah! Mwah! Mwah!"

"Stu, oh my God—"

Billy rolled his eyes, but you caught the slightest twitch of his lips—amusement, barely there. Oh, so he thought he could just sit there and watch? Two could play that game.

"Hey, Billy," you called sweetly, tilting your head toward him, "why don’t you give me a real kiss? Show Stu how it’s done?"

Stu gasped in mock betrayal. "Oh-ho-ho, no way! You’re tryna make billy willy jealous? Babe, that’s evil. I love it."

Billy, unfazed, simply raised an eyebrow. "Jealous of him?"

"Ow," Stu mumbled.

You grinned, shifting so that you were leaning fully against Billy, your nose brushing his. His breath hitched, just barely, and that’s when you knew you had him.

"C’mon, Loomis," you murmured, voice low, "I’ve been kissing Stu all morning. Don’t you wanna—"

Billy cut you off with a kiss, Slow, deep, possessive.

Stu groaned dramatically. "Ugh, gross. Get a room."

Billy pulled back just long enough to mutter, "You’re literally in the same room."

"Yeah, and I don’t appreciate being left out!"

You barely had time to breathe before Stu yanked you toward him, stealing a kiss for himself. Unlike Billy’s, it was playful—teasing—his fingers tracing along your jaw like he was memorizing the shape of you.

"Mmm. Much better."

Billy scoffed. "You’re insufferable."

Stu grinned. "And yet, you’re still here."

Billy didn’t respond—just yanked you back toward him, kissing you again, like he was proving a point.

Stu gasped. "Oh, so it’s a competition now?"

You tried to protest, but it was too late—Stu tackled both of you onto the bed, smothering you with exaggerated affection, and suddenly, you were caught in an endless loop of soft kisses, dramatic whining, and playful bites.

The absolute audacity of these two.

You barely had time to catch your breath before you were pounced on, trapped beneath Stu’s ridiculous weight as he suffocated you in another flurry of wet, obnoxious kisses.

"Mwah! Mwah! Mwah!"

"Stu—" you wheezed between attacks.

"What’s wrong, babe? Thought you wanted some real affection today?" he teased, his grin downright wicked.

Billy, unimpressed, leaned against the headboard, arms crossed. His dark eyes watched—half-annoyed, half-amused—as Stu continued his assault, peppering kisses across your cheeks, your nose, your forehead—

"Alright, that’s enough," Billy muttered.

Before you could blink, Stu was gone.

Correction—Billy had yanked him off you like a cat picking up an unruly kitten. Stu yelped as he was tossed onto the mattress, his limbs flailing, landing dramatically on his back.

"Dude, what the hell—?"

Billy didn’t acknowledge him. He was too busy shifting over you, pinning you in place with his knee between your legs, his hands framing your face.

And then he kissed you.

Not playfully. Not teasingly, just pure, slow, possessive intensity.

The kind of kiss that burned, that made your stomach flip, that had you clutching at his hoodie like it was the only thing keeping you tethered to the damn planet. When Billy finally pulled back, your lips felt swollen, your breath stolen. (haha swollen stolen. sorry.)

He smirked. "That’s how it’s done."

Stu, from the other side of the bed, clutched his chest like he’d been stabbed. "Holy shit—did you guys just have, like, a full conversation without saying a single word? Babe. Babe, be honest—are you two psychic? Oh my god. I’m the third wheel."

"Oh my god, shut up," Billy groaned, flopping back onto the mattress.

You just giggled, still dazed.

---

Breakfast—or rather, lunch—was a complete disaster.

Billy, being Billy, refused to let either of you touch his damn stove. Something about “last time you nearly burned the kitchen down” and “I don’t trust you idiots”.

Stu, offended, spent the next five minutes whining. "C’mon, dude, it wasn’t even that bad! The fire alarm only went off, like, three times!"

Billy didn’t dignify that with a response.

So while he handled making the food, you and Stu took it upon yourselves to distract him. And by distract, that meant:

Clinging to Billy’s back like koalas.

Placing loud, exaggerated smooches to his cheek while he stirred the eggs.

Stu biting his shoulder for no reason other than to be a silly guy.

Billy barely tolerated it—up until Stu reached for the spatula.

With zero hesitation, Billy smacked his hand away. "Touch it and die."

Stu pouted, cradling his injured fingers. "Babe, Billy hit me."

You, still wrapped around Billy’s shoulders, hummed. "That’s crazy. What did you do?"

Stu gasped. "You’re picking his side?"

"I’m on the side that gets me food."

Billy snorted. "Smart choice."

Stu groaned, dramatically slumping onto the counter. "This is abuse. This is a toxic household."

Billy just shoved a piece of toast into his mouth.

---

Billy should’ve known that blocking you and Stu from the kitchen would come back to bite him in the ass. Because now? Now it was your turn to be..you.

It started small, innocent. You kissed Billy’s cheek. Just once. Quick. Simple.

Then you did it again, and again, and again.

After the fifth time, he sighed. "Alright, what’s your deal?"

"No deal." You grinned, leaning in to press another kiss to his temple.

Billy raised a brow. "You’re up to something."

"Me? Never."

From across the room, Stu was barely holding in his laughter.

Billy eyed him suspiciously. "What did you two idiots plan?"

That’s when you struck. A full-scale attack—kissing everywhere. His cheeks, his forehead, his jaw—rapid fire, one after the other, not stopping once.

Billy went rigid.

"Oh my god," Stu wheezed.

Billy tried to escape, but you clung to him like a damn barnacle, giggling as you relentlessly smothered him with kisses.

"Get off—" he groaned, trying to pry you away.

"Nope."

Stu, in between fits of laughter, jumped in next, trapping Billy in an inescapable hug from behind.

"Aww, c’mon, man, let us love you!"

Billy visibly considered murder, but he was stuck.

Defeated, he dropped his head back against Stu’s shoulder, exhaling sharply. "I hate both of you."

You beamed, pressing one last, lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth. "We know." Stu just grinned, squeezing Billy tighter.

Billy sighed. "Unfortunately."

And yet—despite his complaints, despite his glaring—Billy didn’t push either of you away.

If anything…

His grip tightened.

Just a little.

-----

The first time you hear the floorboards creak, your heart stutters in your chest. It’s late—too late for visitors, too late for anyone to be walking around your house except for you. The chill in the air seeps through your open window, rustling your curtains like ghostly fingers, and you swear you can hear the distant hum of something… watching.

Then, a whisper, soft and teasing:

“Boo.”

You barely get a chance to react before a gloved hand cups your cheek, tilting your head up. A white mask looms above you, glossy black eyes empty yet somehow brimming with mischief. The second figure appears just as quickly, pressing in from behind, their breath warm against your neck as they chuckle.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Stu drawls, dropping his mask onto your desk before wrapping himself around you, arms banding across your waist. “You should see your face right now—so cute. Terrified. Makes me wanna eat you up.”

Billy, still in his mask, tilts his head, fingers trailing along your jaw. “What’s the matter, baby? Thought you liked surprises.”

You huff, pushing at Stu’s arms half-heartedly, but he refuses to budge. "Surprises don’t usually involve breaking and entering, you freaks."

Billy finally removes his mask, revealing that sharp smirk that always makes your stomach flip. “Technically, we have keys,” he murmurs, brushing his lips against your temple. “So it’s not breaking and entering. It’s just entering.”

Stu snickers, squeezing you tighter. “And we entered real good, huh?”

Before you can retaliate, Billy grips your chin, tilting your face up. His lips find yours in a slow, deliberate kiss—deep and possessive, like he’s trying to consume every breath you have left. His other hand slides down your side, settling against your hip, fingers curling into your shirt as he presses himself closer.

Behind you, Stu hums, nosing into your neck. “Damn, baby, you’re so warm.” His teeth graze your skin, not quite biting, just enough to make you shiver. "We should wake you up like this every night. Just sneak in, cuddle up, steal some kisses—"

"You always steal kisses," you mutter, breaking away from Billy just long enough to glare at Stu.

He grins. “Yeah, but you love it.”

Billy pulls you back before you can respond, kissing you again, this time more insistent, more urgent. His tongue teases against your lower lip, and you melt into him before you even realize what you're doing. His hands slide down, gripping your waist possessively, thumbs rubbing soothing circles.

Stu, ever the jealous one, makes a noise of protest and tugs you backward. "Hey, don’t hog ‘em, man. Sharing is caring."

Billy pulls away just slightly, his lips slick and pink, and raises a brow. “You’re not even trying. Just standing there, being annoying.”

Stu gasps, all exaggerated offense. "I’m literally holding them like my favorite teddy bear!"

Billy rolls his eyes, but his smirk softens. "Then act like it."

Stu doesn’t need to be told twice. He spins you in his arms, capturing your lips in a kiss so sweet it makes your knees weak. Where Billy is intense, consuming, Stu is playful, teasing. He hums into your mouth, fingers playing with the hem of your shirt as his lips drag from your lips to your cheek, then down to your jaw.

Billy, not one to be ignored, presses up against you from behind, trapping you between their warmth. His lips skim over the back of your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

You whimper, just a little, just enough to make them both grin.

"Awww," Stu coos, nipping at your cheek before kissing the same spot. "Is our baby feeling overwhelmed?"

Billy chuckles, his voice lower, rougher. "Good."

They don’t stop kissing you. Your forehead, your cheeks, your nose, your neck—every inch of skin they can reach. Billy is methodical, his kisses trailing slow and deliberate, while Stu is chaotic, pressing quick pecks all over, whispering little praises in between.

"So pretty," Stu murmurs against your ear, his hands massaging slow, lazy circles into your sides. "So warm, so sweet. Can't get enough of you."

Billy's breath ghosts over your jaw before he presses another firm kiss there. "We should keep you between us forever.."

Something in his tone makes your breath hitch. Possessive. Protective. Loving.

You should be unnerved. But you’re not.

"You're both ridiculous," you whisper, though your voice lacks any real bite.

Stu grins. "Ridiculously in love with you, yeah."

Billy hums in agreement, brushing his lips over your temple. "Now, let’s get you back to bed, baby. You need sleep."

"After all that?" You scoff. "You expect me to just sleep?"

Billy smirks. "We'll make it up to you in the morning."

Stu wiggles his eyebrows. "Or we could keep kissing you ‘til you pass out. That’d be fun."

You groan, but you don’t pull away. You don’t want to. Instead, you let them guide you to bed, curling up between them as they continue peppering you with kisses—soft, slow, affectionate.

And as their warmth surrounds you, as their lips press lazy, lingering kisses against your skin, you realize something.

You don’t feel afraid anymore.

[night-night-stories-before-bed]

You shouldn't have done that.

Warnings ⚠️; gore, murder, blood and swearing.

Pairing; Ghostface/Neutral-Reader

Summary; You did not expect some idiots to try and copy Ghostface, even least to become their new target. Too bad for them.

~~~~~

The cold breeze made you shiver as you exited the drugstore and locked the door. The smell of dried leaves and wet wood brought a smile to your lips. October was almost over and in a few days it would be Halloween. You had planned a whole night with your boyfriend, hoping it wouldn't turn into a bloody mess.

Well, with him it was bound to turn bloody one way or the other.

And kinky. The mask would more than likely stay on.

You chuckled silently and shook your head mentally. Maybe you would get a quiet and long night with your man after all, you thought as your eyes fell on a poster. The police had imposed a curfew after the series of murders that started during the summer. You had found the second victim, walking right on what was left of them. The scene had been disgusting, a real carnage.

Never would you be able to forget it.

Not that you wanted to.

You grabbed the poster and almost tore it off, but stopped. Everyone knew about the curfew so one less wouldn't be noticed, but it wasn't why you stopped. No. Unlike the police and the rest of the town, you knew there was more than one killer. More than one Ghostface. Tearing the poster down wouldn't bother the first killer, but what about the others?

You didn't want to do something stupid, like break a rule and get a target on your back.

With a sigh, you left the poster untouched and walked away.

The echo of your steps echoed in the parking lot, making you feel alone and vulnerable. It was way too late, way past the curfew so no cars or pedestrians could be seen. You swallowed hard and began to walk faster before grabbing your phone.

Eyes down, you texted your boyfriend to tell him you just finished your shift and were walking home. Knowing him, your boyfriend would come find you in no time. So overprotective! But it was something you needed right now.

As you send your message, you heard two new sets of footsteps behind you. You almost froze, a feeling of dread and imminent danger flooding your body. Swallowing hard, you quickly texted ‘Game Over’ before changing your path.

There was a bar not too far from you and you prayed it would be open. Anything to win yourself some time.

Behind you, the two strangers kept following you. They weren't quiet, their shoes making the gravel roll and crunch. You felt like a deer and only wanted to bolt and run away. But you couldn't, because if those strangers were who you thought they were, it would be a death sentence.

In your pocket, you felt your phone vibrate. You didn't need to look at it to see what the answer was. Soon enough, you would be safe.

Arriving at the bar, you silently cursed. It was clearly closed. The whole street was desert.

For the first time you felt fear creeping its way in the back of your mind, wishing you had a firearm or even a knife with you. But like most, you didn't. You didn't want to have to explain why you had such weapon with you, especially with everyone being paranoid toward each other.

Biting your lips, you made a sharp turn and headed toward the park. Luckily, there was no camera there and the streetlamps weren't working. With the cover of the night, you might have a chance to escape.

Without any warning, you ran as fast as you could. You heard your stalkers do the same, but you were faster. For now.

As you expected, the park was empty and dark. Panting, you kept running and prayed they wouldn't catch up on you.

They didn't had to.

A scream of pain left your mouth as a gunshot broke the silence of the night. You crashed on the ground, hands grabbing your wounded leg. Between your fingers, you could feel your own warm blood pouring out of the wound. You tried to get up, only for someone to kick you down.

Gasping for air, you turned your head to face your assailants. The familiar masks of Ghostface met your gaze and you almost cursed them. Almost, because one of the two killers pressed his foot against your wound, making you cry out in pain.

- “Son of a bitch!” You cursed, feeling tears fill your eyes. You heard them laughing and grinded your teeth. There was no way you were going down without a fight. “Laugh about that, fucker!”

With all your strength left, you turned on your side and kicked the closest killer between the legs. You felt your foot dig deep, crushing the masked man’s balls and cock. A scream of pain filled the night once more and the killer dropped the gun as he fell onto his knees. You were quick to grab it, but the other murderer was as fast.

You hand barely closed on the gun that a mass fell on you. You felt a blade sink into your side, leaving you breathless. Pain, you could only feel pain and it blinded you for a second before your survival instinct kicked in.

Your elbow hit your aggressor right in the nose and you heard it crack. A curse left the second killer’s mouth as you turned the gun toward him, only to have the first one grab onto your wrist. You were about to bite the fucker’s hand when blood splashed all over your face.

You gasped and let go of the gun, hands on your face as you tried to chase the blood from your eyes. More blood splashed over you while the poor fucker could only make some kind of gurgle.

- “You shouldn't have done that.” Said a familiar voice.

You opened your eyes in time to see the real Ghostface pining your second assailant under him before you heard the wet sound of stabbing. Over and over your boyfriend plunged the knife into his victim, ignoring the cries of pain and the plaiding. You could do or say nothing but shake, your hands pressed against your wounds. It was the feeling of your tears that snapped you back to reality.

- “Babe…” You said, voice breaking in a painful whisper that went unheard. “Babe, please!”

You sobbed, shaking like a leaf, as you could only watch your murderous boyfriend go apeshit crazy against the two killers. Even tho they were clearly dead, he kept going. You covered your mouth in disgust as you saw him basically behead one of the killers. The head rolled slowly next to you and you fought the urge to throw up.

You knew what your Ghostface was capable of, you had seen some pictures and one crime scene. But to see it happen right before your eyes?

- “Stop it, please.” You pleaded with a little voice, trying to find back your voice.

You felt bile fill your mouth Ghostface plunged his hands in his last victim, pulling out the guts and tearing them apart. The smell was atrocious.

- “Enough!” You finally screamed.

As you sobbed, you saw Ghostface freeze before he turned to face you. His white mask was red and wet with blood, hidding his expression. Yet, you only had to raise a hand toward him for your boyfriend to finally snap out of his rage.

Strong arms wrapped you in a thigh embrace and you cried in the crook of his shoulder. His hand grabbed the back of your head and you felt the plastic of the mask dig against your scalp.

- “I got you. I got you.” You heard him whisper as your fists clenched his black robe. “I am so, so sorry. You shouldn't have seen me like that. I shouldn't have left you alone…”

It wasn't over yet and you both knew it. You needed to go to the hospital and talk to the police. They would learn the truth, learn that there was more than one Ghostface. Well, that only one was left now. The best part would be to have your boyfriend there, right under their nose without them knowing and no matter how hard they tried, they would never catch him.

[sliced-n-diced]

Reader and their boyfriend, Jed, go out on Halloween together. Reader thinks Jeds Ghostface costume is a bit in poor taste but they wont deny he does look pretty damn good in it...

Meanwhile Dannys lowkey internally panicking because you were NOT supposed to catch him in costume, you arrived earlier than expected and..wait....are you turned on right now? This was an unexpected turn

[centipede-gutzz]

📸 CONFESSIONS [DANNY JOHNSON X GN READER]

A/N: this feels like it should be a fic but i don't wanna write so it's "headcanons" instead. i need this man.

WARNINGS: blood, slight violence, make out sessions.

TYPE: headcanons, gn reader, romantic

Grass and dirt cover your backside as you're forcibly pushed to the ground. Sparks fly from the generator you were just working on, stuttering and smoking.

It was almost finished too. You look up to glare at the looming shadow on top of you. The Entity's choice of the killer for today was Ghostface himself, just perfect. You try to pry away from him but it's no use now, with your arms being pinned above your head to keep you from struggling.

"Oh, no no no! Can't have you scattering off again, now can we," Danny chuckles out while wagging his finger. God if you were able to move, you would punch this asshole so hard he would be out of commission for weeks.

He seems to notice your scowl and raises his knife to your throat, inches away from slicing. "Look how helpless you are. It pairs real nice with your pretty face," he says with a teasing tone of voice. You call him out, a smug grin plastered on your face as you point out the effects you must have on him. He must be head over heels for you if you're still alive and not on that dreaded hook.

Your taunting works as he grips his knife in anger. If only that mask was off, perhaps he was all flushed. Seems like your guess was correct.

"You're going to regret saying that, you little shit".

☆- as much as he doesn't want to admit it out loud, he really is obsessed with you.

☆- you're the only survivor with both bark and bite, always coming back with remarks and teases. it drives him mad.

☆- danny tries so hard to push back the giddiness he feels when he sees you during matches.

☆- seems like the type to subconsciously go for everyone else and save you for last so both of you are with each other for longer (which he does).

☆- always likes to take pictures of you whether you notice or not. when you're working on a generator, helping your teammates, or simply just sitting at the survivor camp laughing and smiling at your friends. likes to string them up on the walls of his cabin to admire your wonderful looks.

☆- he can't tell whether it's some weird obsession or genuine love. he doesn't have much experience with those types of feelings so it's not the easiest to pinpoint. you guys are just going to be stuck in this little cat and mouse game if neither of you make a move.

☆- danny grows on you as time passes by. while you don't show your interest in the same way he does, you just like to play along with his games. he loves a challenge, so you'll give him one.

☆- despite witnessing how shocked and flustered he gets whenever you say something back to him, you can't help but question if he truly feels the same way. you'd think he would've made a move by now.

☆- it starts to get to you. you're tired of running around in circles and having your thoughts plagued with questions and wonders about what he feels, so you decide to take matters into your own hands.

☆- during one of the many matches you had against ghostface, you were the final one left. desperately trying to listen for that glorious low drone of the open hatch.

☆- you clutch your bleeding sides, palms stained red. an attempt to unhook dwight let to you being attacked by danny (he blows you a kiss right after).

☆- the hatch is in your sights now, exhaling a breath of relief as you make a run for your exit. before you can reach it, a knife is dug into your shoulder.

☆- you cry out as you stumble onto the floor, danny's laughter ringing in your ears. you hit the ground in frustration as you hiss in pain.

☆- he lowers himself to look you in the eyes all the while taunting you, reaching in his pocket to pull out his camera for another picture.

☆- perhaps it's time to throw your thoughts out the window, you think to yourself as you pull him down to kiss the mouth part of his mask. you hear him make a noise of surprise as he drops his camera and jumps off you.

☆- for once in his life, danny is at a loss for words. he brings a gloved hand to his mask, breath heavy and heart racing. he was so caught off-guard that he didn't notice you crawl into the hatch, ending the match while he stands there dazed.

☆- when you spawn back at camp, the others congratulate you for making it out on your own. a couple of them ask you how you managed get out, yet you can only mumble out that it was pure luck, hoping they don't see your flushed face.

☆- danny is no different of course. he immediately makes a beeline to his cabin to think about everything that happened, the kiss replaying in his head over and over. he falls to his knees and glances up at your photos, wondering how this moment ever came to be.

☆- it's complete radio silence from then on. you haven't gone against him for about a week and you didn't even catch him stalking the survivor camp like he usually does.

☆- you start to wonder if you went to far, guilt creeping up on your mind. maybe he didn't see you that way. this whole situation made you seem out of it and unmotivated, your fellow survivors questioning your state of mind.

☆- you decide to stay on the outskirts of the camp one night. the others are making idle chat around the fire while waiting for the next match to finish. you kick a pebble as you stare at the grassy earth, lost in your thoughts.

☆- suddenly, hands cover your mouth and eyes as you get dragged into the forest. you thrash around violently and swear into the hand to let you go but the perpetrator's grip never falters.

☆- soon enough, you're being dragged into a cabin in the depths of the woods. you get dropped to the floor, the wood creaking below your weight. quickly raising to your feet, you yell various profanities and questions at the kidnapper before stopping to see danny standing in front of you.

☆- his mask is nowhere to be seen, yet his face still remains hidden underneath his hood. fist are balled to his sides as you feel his eyes gaze into your own. you think it's time to apologize for what you did.

☆- before you could even muster a word, his lips are on yours. they're chapped but you can't bring yourself to care as arms wrap around your shoulders, pushing you against the wall. you stumble a bit at first but quickly return the kiss with the same desperation.

☆- tongues dance together sinfully as you both make up for lost time, hands grasping whatever they could find. you don't know how long it's been going on for, constantly taking breaks to catch your breath before kissing him again. but god, something deep in your mind begs it for it to never stop.

☆- the air is too hot for your liking as you pull away (holding back a chuckle in reaction to danny's whine at the loss of contact). even when you're this close to him, his face is never shown. you would ask to see, but perhaps that's for a later time when you gain more trust.

☆- he looks at you, eyes filled with hunger and adoration. you try your hardest not to look away in embarrassment, and instead stare back with lidded eyes.

☆- "i think i'm in love with you." danny finally breaks the silence in the air. you raise an eyebrow as if to ask "you think?"

☆- danny grumbles and turns his gaze to the side. "give me a break, things never got this out of hand." you're confused about what he meant but quickly realized he meant love in general. it makes sense to you, seeing his stalking habits and actual murdering sprees.

☆- yeah, you could say that he's into you.

☆- you give him a warm smile, affirming him that you plan to help him through the roller-coaster of love. he rests his head on the crook of your neck in silent thanks as you feel the smile against your skin.

[m00ri]

First post no way! Time to listen to junkie brush

Ghostface/Danny Johnson x gn reader

Warning; Slightly obssesive behaviour, blood, stabby stab stab

You look pretty in red.

The stress that came with every single match was unbearable. Every single time your body was enveloped by smoke your heart sank, and your head felt light. The worst part of this whole ordeal is; you won’t know the killer before the match. You can count yourself lucky if you see them in the first minutes of the match and they don’t see you. It helps you, not much but enough to know how to deal with them when the time comes.

Gideon Meat Plant was the worst map you have found yourself in. Even though it had many rooms you got lost very fast. The concrete walls made you feel small, stuck and the smell, God the smell! The air was moist, suffocating, a light hint of copper mixed with the sweet scent of death and rot hung in the air. The first time you got here you choked and gagged.

Your hands clumsily fumbled with the broken generator in the edge of the map, your head was buzzing, heart in your throat as you tried your best not to mess up. One small mistake would lead to it exploding and the killer finding you. You haven’t run into the killer, but the other survivors were not so lucky, you could tell by how loud Jake screamed. It echoed through the halls sending a shiver down your spine. You hoped the killer wasn’t Ghostface, you two had some kind of beef. He likes to start chasing you first, just to scare you, then before you even know or notice you are the last person to be alive and the real game of cat and mouse begins. The worst part is he didn’t even say a single word.

Ghostface liked to torture you, watching how you would cry and bleed out crawling in the mud, only to pick you up and hook you.

Ghostface also had a fun habit of watching you, stalking, and taking photos. At first you didn’t notice a thing. He was one sneaky bastard, he seemed very happy and content with that, after some time he appeared to get bored of you being unaware of his existence.

He left you photos, a whole bunch, some of them had something written on the back. They were usually hearts, written in drying flaky blood. He scared the shit out of you and he liked that oh, too much.

You hate him with your whole heart.

Suddenly the generator explodes, hissing in pain you hide your hands and get on your feet. It was loud, echoing through the halls only to fall into silence and then nothing. No loud heartbeat, no chase. Nothing. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you bring your slightly sweaty and burnt hands to your chest. Out of instinct For a second a wave of comfort overwhelmed you, you were safe. Well, as safe as you could be in the Entities realm. “Boo” Your eyes widen and before you are even able to open your mouth to scream you are stabbed in the back and kicked onto the floor. White warm pain blossomed in the places he stabbed you, vision blurry from the impact that your head made with the floor. He sat on your back, stabbing you more. Ghostface grabbed your head, pulling it back to take a photo. A coppery taste filled your mouth, you coughed and it spilled onto the ground.

He took a few more photos, and when he felt satisfied he got off of you. Your mind was blank, the hot pain in your back made it impossible to think or scream.

You could only let out low whimpers, it made him chuckle. He lifted his mask, you could see his blurry smile and before you knew it he gently kissed you. You didn’t kiss back, your strength leaving your body as quickly as your blood. He licked the blood of your lips. He watched the light fade away from your eyes, oh how he adored the sight. His smile got wider.

Before the fog had the chance to take you away, you heard him chuckle and say;

“You look pretty in red”

[m0ntg0merygat0r]

𝕰𝖗𝖔𝖙𝖔𝖒𝖆𝖓𝖎𝖈

𝐄𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐜 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐦 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐫

𝔗𝔚: 𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔪𝔲𝔯𝔡𝔢𝔯, 𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔩𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔤, 𝔡𝔯𝔲𝔤𝔰

𝔊𝔥𝔬𝔰𝔱𝔣𝔞𝔠𝔢 𝔇𝔞𝔫𝔫𝔶 𝔍𝔬𝔥𝔫𝔰𝔬𝔫 𝔵 𝔊𝔑! ℜ𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯

Deep in the shadows stands a character with a white screaming face. It waches you, as if you were its prey, taking photos without you knowing. Breaking in to your apartment while your sleeping. It notes your schedule to know where you are at all time. But you never noticed until one morning you found a note with a picture attached to it on your nightstand. Next to the note lies a rose in a deep almost black shade of red. As you look at the picture you notice, it is a picture of you sleeping in your underwear, as usual you had decided not to wear pajamas . In that moment you started regretting sleeping this way most of the time. You would never have thought that one day you would end up having a stalker, who broke in your home and left you this note. You didn’t even think about reading the note because of how terrified you were, you hoped that you were dreaming or that it was just your ex. You even hoped that it was just a burglar who left this as his sign to let you know you were robbed. Instead you jump out of bed and go through your belongings, looking if the intruder was still here or took something. Deep inside yourself you knew that it was not a burglar, it was clear for yourself that you have found yourself a stalker, you just didn’t want it true. You looked through all your things, but didn’t find anything missing. The note was still lying on your nightstand with the picture and rose. You still wore nothing other than underwear, so you finally put on a shirt wich was bigger than you. You didn’t notice, but the shirt you put on was the shirt of your toxic ex-boyfriend . After putting on the shirt, you got ready and went to the kitchen, at least wearing pants now with that stupid shirt of your ex. You text your best friend Nina, who you knew since you were 4 years old, asking her to meet you as soon as possible. But you don’t call the cops, wich seems weird to any other human. Please everyone else would call them in this situation, but you don’t. 𝙒𝙃𝙔 ? Because the cops in your town are mostly lazy or corrupt. But that has nothing to do with your case? Yes, but cause of these two things your father was put behind bars for a murder he didn’t commit and died there just one month ago in a prison riot. Your father raised you alone, because your mother was a huge drug addict and needed to be removed from your life for your own safety. Sadly it didn’t stop you from doing drugs yourself, having a junkie mom I mean. You were doing drugs, drinking,smoking and stealing since you were 14. At least you start getting better at not doing drugs, but still smoke, drink and steal. Anyway. After some time your friend replied telling you to meet her at 4pm in your favorite cafe Gigi’s Bakery. Before going to the cafe you change your clothes to at least look normal, not like a zombie, and notice the note again. This time you read it …..

“𝔜𝔬𝔲 𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔨 𝔰𝔬 𝔟𝔢𝔞𝔲𝔱𝔦𝔣𝔲𝔩 𝔴𝔥𝔢𝔫 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔰𝔩𝔢𝔢𝔭 𝔡𝔬𝔩𝔩 ;) “………..

You were shaking on your entire body, staring at the note in your hands. So you really had a stalker. Unknown to you the Ghost who stalked you that night and those before, stood in the shadows of the woods next to your house watching you.

Hello guys, this is just an idea I’ve had.

Will probably and hopefully if I find time continue.

I’m new to writing so if this is bad I’m sorry.

[hhhijk]

u wanna play psycho killer?

Imagine..

Ghostface calling you on the phone, acting all high and mighty, only to be tied up with hands behind his back with only his Ghostface mask covering him as you milk his cock, riding him all night long, “You bitch.. untie me, when I get off of this I'll make you beg.” he groaned, struggling with the tight rope hugging his body, while you take your time edging him, taunting him, making him beg, whine, and whimper, you can't help it with the hitched breaths he takes every time you slam down on his dick, “please…” he whimpered, “what was that? speak louder” you teased “please… please just let me cum” he begged as you took off his mask, his eyes looking up at you pleading, with his tear-stained cheeks, red tinted nose and lips, he just looked sooo adorable, you can just eat him up. “Oh come on Mr Ghostface I thought you wanted me to be down on my knees and beg for mercy.” you scoffed bouncing up and down on him, poking fun at him not noticing the once-tight rope was now loose and slowly slipping away. Still being cocky and dominant until you get turned over and pinned with your back pressed against the bed “I told you I would” he grinned, gripping your wrist above your head, his knee between your legs “and you better beg good, to be on the sequel”

thx 2 @/plutism for the divider once again luv it

hi im not dead

[marsh-idiot]

Ghostface!Armin Arlert

Looks like you're getting a phone call! Better pick it up, and don't you dare hang up.

Cw: Deáth, múrder, blóod, knífe, smut, dub-con?, Manipulative!Armin (my beloved), men whimpering, orál (reader receiving), f!reader, gender neutral, fear play, bite marks, híckeys, manhándling, creampíe, college!au, hair púlling, tear lícking wc:7.0k

Br-Bring-br-bring! 

Your phone rings from the kitchen counter, you walk over and look at the caller ID– “unknown caller” If it’s a scam you’ll just scream into the mic again, it seemed to work last time. 

“Hello?” You answer, putting it up to your ear, standing in the kitchen of your apartment; the lights of your apartment bright despite how dark the windows are. 

“Hello.” A gravelly voice answers, okay… definitely not a college friend or something. 

“Yes?” You say into the phone, trying to prompt whoever is on the other end into telling you why they called you. 

“Who is this?” The gravelly voice asks, it’s not like they’re a scam call– should probably just see what they want. 

“Who are you tryin’ to reach?” You ask back, not fully wanting to give out your name to a stranger quite yet. 

“What number is this?” The voice asks. 

“What number are you trying to reach?” You roll your eyes and tilt your head a bit, even though the caller couldn’t see you. 

“I don’t know.” The voice says, even lower than before. 

“Well, I think you have the wrong number.” You respond, a small smile on your face despite the slight annoyance. “Do I?” The voice asks. “It happens, take it easy.” You press the button to hang up, setting it down on the counter again and going to walk back to your living room; getting a few steps before your phone rings again. 

You let out a small groan as you answer it again. “Uh- hello?” You respond, now slightly more annoyed than entertained. 

“I’m sorry, I guess I dialed the wrong number.” The voice sounds from the phone again. 

“So why’d you dial it again?” You ask, equally amused and annoyed at the phone call that was interrupting your night. 

“To apologize.” The voice says, it sounds like the person was smiling on the other end despite their spoken remorse. 

“You’re forgiven, bye now.” You smile as you say it, nodding your head as you go to take the phone away from your ear once more. 

“Wait wait, don’t hang up.” The voice begs, stopping your motion. 

“What?” You ask, turning around– the window behind you drinking up the light from your kitchen like a blackhole. 

“I want to talk to you for a second.” The voice purrs into the phone, you narrow your eyes. 

“Ugh, they’ve got 900- numbers for that. See ya.” You hang up the phone and step over to your stove, pouring out the packet of popcorn into a pan. 

Br-bring-br-bring! Your phone rings again, you roll your eyes and answer it again. 

“Hello.” You say, somewhat annoyed at this point. 

“Why don’t you wanna talk to me?” The gravelly voice asks. 

“Who is this?” You ask, covering the pan with a lid as the popcorn starts to pop. 

“You tell me your name, I’ll tell you mine.” The voice offers, no way in hell are you telling a random person your name. 

You laugh, rolling your eyes at the cheap attempt, “I don’t think so.” The popping gets louder as the pan heats up. 

“What’s that noise?” The voice asks. 

“Popcorn!” You answer with a smile. 

“You’re making popcorn?” The voice asks. “Mhm.” You hum your response as you shake the pan a little. “I only eat popcorn when I’m at the movies.” The voice states. 

“Well, I’m getting ready to watch a video.” You say, turning away from your stove and walking over to the other side of your kitchen.  

“Really, what?” The voice asks as you lean down on the counter, resting your arms on it. 

“Oh just some scary movie.” You shrug with a smile. 

“Do you like scary movies?” The voice asks, “u-huh.” You nod. “What’s your favorite scary movie?” The low voice asks. 

“Uhh… I don’t know.” You say, shrugging again, tilting your head as your arm props your phone up– your elbow against the counter. 

“C’mon you have to have a favorite. What comes to mind?” The voice goads, wanting an answer. 

“Uhh… Get out.” You take a knife out of your knife block. “You know the one with the family who trades brains with black people.” You say, holding the knife in between your fingers for a few seconds before dropping it back down in the knife block. Standing up fully. 

“Yeah.” The voice hums. “What’s yours?” You ask, walking out of your kitchen and over to the table near your front door and grab the DVD your parents had given you. 

“Guess.” The voice says mischievously. 

“Uhmm… The Hills Have Eyes?” You guess, shrugging as you walk to your living room. 

“Is that the one where the people eat each other?” The voice asks. 

“Yeah, the people who got turned into human eating monsters.” You add, slowing down your walk as you talk more with the mysterious person. 

“I liked that movie, it was scary.” The voice says. 

“The first one was, the remakes were just alright.” You add, finding yourself smiling at the cryptic voice the more you talk. 

“So… you got a boyfriend?” The voice asks, and you smile even more before biting your bottom lip. 

“Why? You wanna ask me out on a date?” You tease, slowly making your way over to your living room. 

“Maybe. Do you have a boyfriend?” The voice asks. 

“...No.” You lie. I mean… you were planning on breaking up with Bertholdt tonight anyways, so why not have a backup. 

“You never told me your name.” The voice states. 

“Why do you wanna know my name?” You tease as you walk over to your Tv, clicking it on and setting the DVD case on top of the stand. 

“Cause I wanna know who I’m looking at.” You still, you feel as if your blood froze inside your veins. 

A dog starts to bark, probably one of your neighbors’ dogs. “What did you say?” You ask, looking around to all of the visible windows. 

“I wanna know who I’m… talking to.” The voice corrects. 

“That’s not what you said.” You state. 

“What do you think I said?” You turn on the patio light, looking out– being on the ground floor you could see the woods behind your apartment complex. “What?” The voice asks as you squint, searching through what you could see of the woods. “Hello?” The voice again, snapping you out of your search. 

“Look, I gotta go.” You stutter out, locking the door. 

“Wait wait, I thought we were gonna go out.” The voice calls out as you turn off the patio light. 

“Uhh… nah.” You lock the patio door just in case. “I don’t think so.” 

“Don’t hang up on me-” You hear the voice say as you pull the phone away from your ear and hang up, still staring out the patio door. 

You go to walk back over to your kitchen and your phone rings in your hand again. You stop and wipe your face before answering it again. 

“Shit.” You whisper before answering. “Yes?” You try to seem intimidating as you answer. 

“I told you not to hang up on me.” The voice growls from the other end. 

“What do you want?” You ask, trying to sound more annoyed than scared. Maybe this was a prank. 

“To talk.” The voice purrs again, switching from such an angry growl to almost playful so easily. 

“Well, dial someone else okay?” You hang up before they can say anything back. Walking back to your kitchen as you hear the popcorn no longer popping. You reach for the knob to turn the stove off but your phone rings again in your hand. You’re getting really sick of this. 

You bring it up to your ear once more. “Listen, asshole-”

“No you listen, you little bitch, you hang up on me again I’ll gut you like a fish you understand?” The voice sounds from the other side, anger laced into every word of the threat. You look around your apartment, the fear continuing to grow in your stomach. “Hah, yeah…” The voice laughs. 

“Is this some kind of joke?” You ask, hoping the voice would say yes. Hoping it was one of your friends and you could have a laugh about this. Fuck, even your boyfriend. Anything other than this being real.

“More of a game, really. Can ya’ handle that… pinky?” Your eyes flick down to your sweater sleeve, baby pink. Utter terror, you run to make sure every door and window is locked in your apartment. Locking the front door’s deadbolt before flicking the window locks of your living room and kitchen closed.

Running to your bedroom and shutting the window you had left open in there. Quickly making your way back over to the kitchen, leaning over your sink to look out the window.

“Can ya’ see me?” The voice asks playfully. Fuck, whoever this is really can see you. 

“Listen, I am two seconds away from calling the police.” You tell the voice, trying your hardest not to cry. 

“They’d never make it in time, it’s a Saturday night.” Fuck, the voice was right, it would take at least an hour for an officer to even get here. You stumble back to press your back against your front door. The sound of the popcorn sizzling completely forgotten.  

“What do you want?” You ask through tears. 

“To see what your insides look like.” The voice growls through what sounds to be a cheshire cat-like smile. Doubling over as a sob wracks your body, hanging up the call with your thumb. Fumbling your way down the entrance hall to your living room. 

Ding-dong! Your old doorbell rings, and you can’t help but yell and turn back to the door. Your apartment was old, the doorbell was connected through exposed wire throughout your whole apartment– which made it all the louder. 

“Who’s there? Who’s there!” You call out in a moment of desperation before pulling out your phone again. “I’m calling the police.” But as soon as you can dial one number you get a phone call causing you to yell again. Picking it up and putting it to your ear, feeling helpless. 

“You should never say ‘who’s there’, don't you watch scary movies? It’s a deathwish. You might as well come out here to investigate a strange noise or something.” The voice says as you back your way into your living room. 

“Look, you’ve had your fun now so I think you better just leave or else.” You hit your leg on the coffee table as you walk backwards, not hard enough to hinder you– just bruise. 

“Or else what?” The voice goads. 

“Or else my boyfriend’ll be here any second, and he’ll be pissed when he finds out.” You hold your stomach, feeling nauseous from all of the fear. 

“I thought you didn’t have a boyfriend.” The voice says back. 

“I lied! I do have a boyfriend, and he’ll be here any second so your ass better be gone.” A cry makes the end of your sentence turn into a whimper as your tears continue. 

“Sure.” The voice goads, almost gently– making all of this worse. 

“I swear.” You cry out a little more, taking a breath to yell into the phone, “He’s big and he plays football, and he’ll kick the shit out of you!” You yell out, standing in the middle of the living room. Doesn’t matter if he only started playing football because his friend plays it, he still plays. 

“I’m getting scared, I'm shaking in my boots.” They voice toys.

“So you better just leave.” You whimper into the phone. 

“His name wouldn’t be… Bertholdt, would it?” The bone chilling voice asks. 

“How do you know his name?” Your voice sounds almost silent, your lungs feel like they’re collapsing in on themselves. Your skin burns like you’re in an ice bath, your head feels light. 

“Turn on the patio light. Again.” The low gravelly voice says. You flick it on, your sleeve of your sweater over your hand as you do. Looking out to see Bertholdt tied up on one of your patio chairs. His tall frame sat in the chair, his mouth covered with duct tape, his brown hair messy. 

“Oh god!” You squeeze the phone in between your head and your shoulder and you unlock the door, pulling it open just an inch before the voice sounds again. 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” It growls and you shove the door closed, locking the door again. 

“Where are you, where are you?” You press your hand against the glass door. 

“Guess.” The voice sounds. “Please don’t hurt him.” You beg. 

“That all depends on you.” The voice says, clearly smiling through its tone. 

“Why are you doing this?” You ask, tears streaming down your face. 

“I wanna play a game.” You shake your head, crying out a refusal. 

“Then he dies right now.” You wail out, blubbering out “No” after “No” Bertholdt starts to yell from under the duct tape covering his mouth. “Which is it?” The voice asks once. 

“Which is it?” The voice asks again, this time harder. 

“Well… what kind of game?” You ask, the voice almost sounds like it lets out an excited giggle. 

“Turn off the light. You’ll see what kind of game. Just do it!” You press your forehead against the glass as Bertholdt starts to beg you not to, his words muffled. Reaching over and flicking off the light, with an arm that felt like it was made of lead. Leaning against the wall and sliding down beside your Tv, crouching next to it. 

“Here’s how we play. I ask a question, if you get it right Bertholdt lives.” The voice says as you tug out the lamp cord from the outlet beside you. Your Tv displaying a blue screen into your living room. 

“Please don’t do this.” You beg, you feel like it’s the only thing you can say. 

“Come on, it’ll be fun.” The voice says. “Please.” You interrupt to beg. “It’s an easy category.” The voice continues. “Please.” Your voice is quiet, almost a whine. “Movie trivia. I’ll even give you a warm up question.” The voice offers, like it was a saint for doing so. 

“Don’t do this. I can’t.” You plead. 

“Name the killers in Get Out.” The voice demands. 

“No.” You press your head against the wall, wanting to just disappear into it. 

“C’mon, it’s your favorite scary movie, remember.” The voice purrs, it makes you sick how it’s using that against you. 

“I don’t know!” You cry quietly, secretly hoping that if you were quiet enough it would disappear. 

“C’mon yes you do.” The voice encourages. “I-I can’t..” “Bertholdt’s counting on you.” You swallow, thinking for a moment before answering. 

“Arm-armitage family.” You stutter out. 

“Yes! Very good.” The voice purrs, you dip your head down as you blink away tears. “Now for the real question.” You had forgotten that was a warm up round, it meant nothing. 

“No!” You cry out. 

“But you’re doing so well. We can’t stop now.” The voice states. 

“Just stop, leave us alone!” You beg, wiping at the tears on your face. 

“Then answer the question. Same category.” The voice lowers, now serious. 

“Please stop.” You beg. 

“Name the killer in Friday the 13th.” 

“Jason! Jason! Jason!” You jump up, declaring the answer as you step in front of the glass door again. 

“I’m sorry, that’s the wrong answer!” The voice apologises, but it sounds ecstatic as it says it. 

“No it’s not. No it’s not. It was Jason.” You turn your back to the door, debating with the mysterious voice.

“Afraid not! No way.” It growls, clearly happy about your mistake. 

“Listen, it was Jason. I watched that movie last week with a bunch of college friends!” 

“Then you should Jason’s mother, Mrs. Vorhees was the original killer, Jason didn’t show up until the sequel!” The voice spits into the phone as you realize your mistake. “I’m afraid that was a wrong answer…” It trails off. 

“You tricked me.” You whine, bumping into the coffee table again. 

“Lucky for you there’s a bonus round. But poor Bertholdt… I’m afraid he’s out.” The voice says, gurgling loud enough to hear through the door coming from him as he struggles against the restraints. You dip over to turn on the lights, looking back to see Bertholdt gutted– still mumbling as his head lolls forward. You can’t even get out a noise, just slide down the door and back yourself into the corner again as you hear the voice laugh over the phone. 

“Hey, we’re not finished yet.” The voice sounds, you pull the phone back up to your ear and take a breath. “Final question. Are you ready?” You can’t help the shaky breath that your lungs pull in the second you open your mouth. 

“Please… please leave me alone.” You whisper out. 

“Answer the question and I will. Where am I?” The question confuses and scares you. 

“What?” You whisper out. 

“Your apartment is big, has a couple rooms, if you answer correctly… you live.” You reach up to grab a screwdriver you had left out when fixing your shelves earlier that week. “Very simple.” The voice says as you shrink back into the corner.

“Please don’t do this. I can’t… I won’t.” You try to reason with it. 

“Your call.” You hear a thud from your bedroom, you forgot to lock the window after closing it. You get up and run to the now smoky kitchen, grabbing the knife you had picked up earlier. The popcorn on your stove now a small flame. Ditching the letter opener for the bigger knife, you look down the hall to your bedroom. 

Ca-thunk! Something smacks into your window– causing you to spin around to look at it in horror. A bird on your windowsill, shaking before flying away. You forcefully blink before turning back around to see a figure standing in your kitchen. A white mask on, you recognized it as ghostface. Fuck, how didn’t you put two and two together before? And a black robe cascading down the figure. 

“Please, no. I don’t wanna die.” You beg, holding the knife out towards it. The figure tilt’s its head at you, then brings a gloved hand up and waves at you. You run at it, shoving your elbow into its chest and pushing as hard as you could. It’s back hitting the front door as you run into your living room. Smacking your hand on the glass door to your patio, dropping your phone to try and unlock it as two hands grab hold of your shoulders. 

“No!” You scream as it pulls you away from the door, wrapping its arms around your waist to lift you. Carrying you away from the door, down the hallway to your bedroom. It throws you into your bedroom and closes the door, locking it as well. 

“I-please! I don’t want to die! I’ll do anything.” You beg as it pulls a knife from its pocket, holding you onto the ground by a strong hand on your chest, the figure sitting on your legs. It tilts its head and leans down, the mask pushes against your neck as you cry. The knife pressing right underneath your chin as you push your head against the carpet. Your hand on the gloved one holding the knife to your throat, pushing against it. 

The figure’s hand comes up to its mask and lifts it just enough for it to drag its tongue across your cheek to collect your tears. Pushing the mask back down before moving back to look down at you. You lift your hips to try and buck the figure off of you, but you just push the figure’s face down to yours and your hips up into a rather big bulge in the figure's pants. 

“Please, if you don’t kill me, I’ll never tell anyone. I haven’t even seen your face. I promise, I’ll do anything to live.” You beg, tugging at the black robes as it sits back up– putting more pressure on your legs again. 

“You lied to me.” The voice growls, a higher whiney one intertwining with the gravelly one. You give the figure a confused look, your hold on the gloved hand relaxing a little as confusion takes over. “You said you didn’t have a boyfriend. I don’t like liars.” The mask tilts. 

“I’m sorry! I only said it because I was going to break up with him, I promise.” You blink the confusion away and start to push against his hand holding the knife again. The hand staying in place, the tip of the curved blade touching your skin just enough to remind you it’s there. 

“You want a replacement?” The figure asks, you can hear the hint of the person underneath’s voice and you get an idea. 

“Yes! I do. Want-want a replacement. Someone stronger, scarier.” You respond, looking up at the mask with wide eyes. It leans down to you, the mask almost touching your face. 

“I don’t believe you, yet.” It whispers at you. 

“Promise, wouldn’t lie. Would die if I lied right now.” You tap his hand holding the knife to your neck, shifting your hips under him– feeling him against you again. 

“Good job, you’re learning.” The voice purrs, pushing the knife into your skin a little more. Not enough to break skin but enough to scare you. 

“Please, don’t kill me. P-promise I won’t turn you in. Won’t tell anyone about this.” You beg, the figure sits back up again. Grabbing the back of your neck and lifting you up enough to take away the hand shoving the knife against your skin to tug your pink sweater off. Throwing it across your room and pushing you back down to the ground. 

“Promise?” The voice almost sounds like its mocking your pleas. You nod vigorously, he brings the knife down to your sweatpants and slices the drawstring with one clean movement. You watch with wide eyes, feeling your blood in your body rush around– your heart beating fast and heavy. The figure sits up off of your legs to tug your sweatpants down to your knees, seating himself back down the second they’re far enough down. 

The knife presses against your throat again, causing you to cry a little bit. Feeling the sharp tip of the knife against your skin, your body trembling underneath the masked figure. He leans forward again, lifting the mask once you can’t see the bottom of his face. Liking your tears away again, his hips slowly rolling against you. A hum leaving him, his voice no longer low or gravelly. He quickly tugs the mask back down and leans up just enough to look into your eyes. 

“You're enjoying this more than you want to admit.” The low gravelly voice claims, rolling his hips against you again and you bite your lips into a small line. You hear the voice laugh a little, a small wicked giggle that sends chills through your bloodstream. 

“I’m sad you got the Friday the 13th question wrong, here I was thinking you were enjoying the movie.” The voice laments, the mask tilting to the side in almost a pout. 

“I was, I enjoyed it… wait, you were there?” You question, did he slip up and make a fatal mistake? Shit, what if he kills you over this?

“Of course I was, you looked so good all curled up on that couch. Laughing along at everyone’s jokes. Couldn’t get it out of my mind.” He grumbles out, rolling his hips against yours again. You can’t help the rush of blood you feel everywhere, your cheeks heating up and the thin fabric of your underwear slowly getting sticky at the gusset. 

“Do-do I know you?” You ask, trying not to give in to the sensation; stilling your hips from pushing off the carpet of your bedroom to lift against his. 

“Do you?” The voice mocks as he rolls his hips into you again. “Guess you’ll have to figure it out. Don’t worry, I’ll help.” He rocks his hips into you hard causing you to bite your lip to muffle a whine that escapes from your throat. He leans down, backing up to look at your now soaked underwear with an inscrutable expression due to the mask. Bringing the knife down and slicing your underwear off, and in one clean motion it was in tatters on the ground around you. 

You hear his breathing hitch before he brings a gloved hand up to your face and covers your eyes. You hear some fabric shuffling and then you feel it… a hot heaving breath ghost over your thighs and pussy. You can’t help but lift your hips off the ground and towards the sensation. He brings his free hand to your stomach to push you against the ground. 

He brings his tongue down and licks a stripe up, swallowing heavily as he pulls away and tugs the mask back down to grunt out. “So sweet, fuck, addicting.” The gravelly voice heaves out, his legs propped in between yours to keep you open, fighting to not squeeze shut to give him some pressure. He tugs the mask back up and leans back down, all but attacking your mess of a cunt as he shoves his tongue through your lips. 

“Fuck, feels so good.” You puff out, wondering how experienced he was to be this good. He greedily laps away, you feel his eyes boring into you as he surveys every little movement and noise you make. 

He flattens his tongue on you, you feel his nose bump your clit and your body jolts at the sensation. His tongue warm and inviting, you start to narrow down the people you know who could be capable of such strength. Not Eren, he has a metal tongue piercing you would’ve noticed right away.

He brings the tip of his tongue up to your clit, circling around it before pushing down and your back arches at the feeling. “Ah– please…” You bite your lip, your hands gripping the arm that was covering your eyes currently. You feel him pull back and you can’t help but let out a pathetic whine at the loss of heat. A string of glistening spit snapping as he pulls away. 

Tugging his mask down as hard and quick as possible to rasp out, “So wet… all f’r me?” As he replaces his tongue with his thumb, dragging it up and down your folds as the fabric of the glove soaks not even a small portion of it up– his thumb on the inside now drenched and smelling of you. He circles it around your bud gently, just enough to get you to squirm. 

And squirm you do. “Please, want it so badly. Want you.” You grip his arm tighter, and his resolve all but snaps. He tugs the mask back up, your whines of his thumb being pulled away quickly interrupted by moans as he shoves his tongue into you. Somehow reaching so deep with it that you swear it was impossible. His nose bumping against your aching clit, his free hand squeezing the fat of your thigh, kneading at the muscle. 

“Oh fuck, feels so good. So good at this.” You whimper out, feeling him rut his hips down. His hot huge cock pressed against your leg through his pants. You feel him dive even deeper into your sopping wet cunt, his hair tickling at your skin. You bring a hand down to yank at his hair. A high pitched whine leaving him, his grip on your thigh tightening. 

“Please, more.” You moan out, tugging his head up to your clit. Feeling him take a sinful sniff as you move him, his tongue retreating from your walls to lick at your red bud. His face pressed against you as he slurps and nips at your swollen clit. A huff leaving you as you feel your brain start to turn to mush, feeling your body start to tingle angrily. Your hips lifting to grind against his face. He hallows his cheeks as he sucks at you, tumbling you over the edge with a loud yell. 

He greedily laps his tongue on you as your back arches off the ground, his hand on your thigh snaking up to support you. The cold sticky feeling of your own wetness feeling like ice against your hot skin as you ride out your orgasm. You pant out as you finally start to come down from your orgasm, your eyes blinking open to the dark glove still covering your face. 

Your brain feeling like jello as you feel him lower your back onto the ground once more. Pulling back from your pussy with pained breaths. Gulping in air as if he was deep sea diving, did he breathe that entire time? 

“Fuck–” You hear a higher pitched voice almost whimper before he presses his lips into yours hard. A deep passionate kiss, filled with your own release on his tongue as he pushes it into your mouth. Sucking at your tongue, grinding his bulge into your sensitive cunt as you shiver. Your hands pull at his hair again to hear his high pitched whine. Your brows furrowed as your fucked out mind tries to figure out who the fuck that is. 

“Taste so good. Think ‘m addicted.” He whispers against your lips, nipping at your bottom lip– licking it gently after he lets go. “Just means I’ll have ta’ come back to it later.” He connects your lips again, shoving his tongue past your lips; you feel yourself suffocating in the sensation, but not wanting to pull away. 

Gliding your hand through your hair, it stops just a little past where his ears start, his undercut neatly shaven. “If… if you’re going to come back later, you-you can take that hand away from my face.” You pant out, your lungs utterly parched for air at this point. 

“That’ll be your treat for being good.” He whispers, you hear some fabric fumbling around and then feel him swap his hand on your face for his other one and flip you around. Propping yourself up with wobbly forearms and knees that he promptly pushes further apart.

He leans down to press his face in the crook of your neck, his wet chin chilling your skin as he presses a soft gentle kiss to your neck. A stark contrast to how roughly his now naked length grinds against you. 

“Promise I’ll be good. Can’t… can’t just let you walk away if you’re this good. Almost made me see stars.” You push back, grinding your hips against him in return. He sucks gently on your neck, holding your shirt collar out of the way before quickly taking his hand off of your face to tug your shirt off before covering your eyes again. 

“Oh, I’ll make sure you see stars.” He drags his tip up and down your sensitive swollen lips, a whimper leaving him as he buries his face into your neck. His leaking red tip pressing against your entrance. His free hand holding your hips in place as he slowly pushes in, huffing against your neck. 

“Fuck, too-too much.” You whine, shifting forward to try and escape the splitting feeling coming from your walls. 

“You can do it.” He grunts out, biting down gently on your neck. Holding you in place, pulling you back on him. He feels impossibly long, and so thick it’s driving you crazy. 

“Don’t-don’t think-don’t think I can.” You drop your head against the ground, your eyes watering under his glove as you squeeze your eyes shut. His hand over your eyes pulls your head back up as he slows down and licks your tears away. Your breath almost completely stolen as you swear you can feel his tip poking at your lungs. 

“Shh, you got this. Just a tiny bit more.” He pushes in the rest, his hand on your waist going down to hold your stomach. His chest pushed onto your back, small huffs coming from the both of you as you try to relax around him. 

“So big, Jesus fuck.” You pant out, heavy thick breaths. 

He leans his head down again into your neck and gently kisses away. “I know, take it so well. Feel so good around me, so good.” He mumbles in between kisses, running his hand over your stomach gently as he tries to soothe you. You take a few deep breaths, relaxing around him slowly as you adjust to his size.

He sucks away at your neck, too caught up in your scent to notice the way you relax around him. You rock your hips back onto him, grinding him inside of you to nudge at your bulbous g-spot. 

“Coulda’ just said you wanted some motion, lovely.” He grunts, lifting his upper body off you as his hand on your stomach retreats. You can feel him shallowly thrust, your wetness and his precum collecting at his base in a sinful dripping circle around him.

You feel the cold point of his blade drag down your back, circling and pressing ever so slightly more into your skin as he thrusts in again. A gasp leaving you as his mushroom tip presses against your g-spot, your walls clenching as he pulls away to thrust even deeper. 

“Fuck, feels–” You’re rudely interrupted by a hiccup before continuing, “So goood.” He tosses the knife to grip your hips again, bending back down to press his face into your neck. Inhaling so deeply you forgot what the noise was for a second until you felt his hot breath ghost over your skin. Your forehead starting to drip sweat, you can feel his hair start to stick to any skin it can touch as he sets a forgiving– almost caring– rhythm. 

You can feel his tip kiss your cervix with each thrust, his gloved hand covering your eyes pushing you back down on his cock with every thrust. Your mouth lolling open as you clench around him. His cock twitching inside you, bumping his head against your cervix with a dizzying thump, thump, thump! 

“Ah-fuck! Feels so good, keep-hck!-keep going please.” You beg, barely able to close your mouth to speak, your jaw hanging wide open as he sucks a deep purple hickey onto your neck. You can feel his veiny long length draaag against your walls with each thrust of his hips. 

“C-clenching ‘round me so nicely, fuck.” He mumbles into your neck, biting down to stop a whimper from escaping. You feel yourself grow even more wet at the small burst of pain, and he does too. Speeding up his thrusts as he starts to litter your neck in small bite marks. 

“Please, want-wanna cum. Please!” You moan out, your mouth falling open as you start to drool from the pleasure. He aims his hips and slams into your g-spot at a bruising pace. 

“Ah-ah-ah!” Leaving your throat at every connection of his mushroom tip to your insides. Your walls clenching around him as you feel your body start to turn to mush, your arms holding you up growing tired– almost sore. He trails his hand on your hips to your back for a moment to puuush you down into an arch that makes him crazy. 

Each thrust of his pushing more and more of his precum out of you– it gently hits your carpet with a soft plat! each time; a growing puddle of intoxicatingly sweet liquid that you’ll have to clean when you can stand again. 

“Almost there, can feel you getting close.” He mumbles around your skin, sucking and biting near your pulse point. You can’t even bring yourself to form a response, your mind filled with him too. You feel him take his hand off your hips, his thrusts continuing as he removes his hand from in front of your eyes. Instead grabbing a fist full of hair to keep your head from lolling forward. 

“Let me see that pretty little face, darling.” The gravelly voice says before you’re blinded by a flash of light– a camera pointed at you two. His arm retreats from its position as he continues to thrust into you. 

“Fuck, you look so good. Gonna hav’ta keep this one in my nightstand.” He says in his normal voice, his hips moving at such a punishing pace the only thing keeping you from scooting forward away from each thrust was his hand holding your hair tightly. He leans down again, kissing at your neck, each thrust making him whine against your skin. 

“P-plea…please.” You manage out, your knees getting weak from the position. You feel him widen your stance even more before somehow going even deeper. 

“God, fuck. Shoulda’ done this sooner. Sho-should’ve taken you after you leaned against me f’r the whole movie. Gigglin’ and playing with… with my hoodie strings.” He rambles as he starts to near his edge. Your brain finally clicks it into place through the haze of sex. 

“A-Armin?” You whimper out, turning your head just enough to get a glance of his blond locks, stuck to his forehead. 

“Heh– yeah. Hey,” His grip on your hair tightens and he tugs your head back even more. Bringing his head around to suck at your throat, sinking his teeth into your skin. “...pretty.” 

“Fuck! Armin!” You yell and he twitches inside of you, smearing more of his precum across your cervix as he slams his head into it over and over again at a bruising pace. 

“Just-fuck-you just got even wetter.” He continues his bruising pace and you feel your body start to stiffen as you near your release. Thump, thump, thump, thump it feels like your heart rate and his pace is one in the same. He tugs your head back and connects your lips, his sweaty blond hair sticking to you as he shoves his tongue in your mouth. 

You moan into his mouth as he moves to suck on your tongue, his hips slapping against the curve of your ass with each thrust in his punishing rhythm. He pulls away just enough to bite down on your bottom lip, the pain sending you tumbling over the edge. 

“Fuck, just like that.” He mumbles out around your lip as you milk him, continuing his pace as you ride out your orgasm. A small droplet of blood drips from your lip into his mouth. The iron taste sending him over the edge, his hips stuttering as he whimpers against your mouth. 

Wispy hot velvety ropes spilling into you as you come down from your high, his hips continuing to stutter as his release drips out of you with each shallow thrust. Your body collapsing under his, him following on top of you. He releases his hand in your hair to run his hands over your side gently. 

“Think… think I blacked out for a second.” You whisper out, too tired to actually speak. He laughs against your neck, gently kissing all the marks he had made. 

“Told you I’d make you see stars.” He smiles against your skin, his hands gently trailing over your body. You shiver, finally cooling off as you lay against the carpet of your bedroom. He pulls out of you, a whine leaving you as he does. His cock dripping with a mix of your releases, a sight he can't peel his eyes away from. 

You glance back. “Need to clean off?” You watch as he smiles and kneels in front of you. 

“Clean it for me?” He tilts his head, holding his softening cock in front of your face with a smirk. Lifting your head up by your chin, you dart your tongue out to lick him clean. Small whines coming from him as you trace each vein down his long shaft, his hand going to your hair to cradle your head. 

“Fuck, careful. Made me so sensitive.” He tightens his grip on your face as you slowly lick across his tip, eyes locked on his as you do so. “Fuckin’ whore.” He smiles down at you, wiping away a small dribble of drool you didn’t even notice was running down your face. 

You wrap your lips around his tip lazily before he pulls you off. “Another time, I’ll definitely be back.” He smiles down at you, his thumb rubbing over your cheek gently. 

“Maybe without the murder next time?” You try to lift yourself, your arm wobbly as you prop it on the carpet. He moves behind you again, lifting you with ease and laying you out on your bed.

“No promises, have to make sure no one gets in my way.” He leans down, licking the spit on your chin away. “Don’t worry, it’s all gone by now. Like he was never even there.” He stands up, the black robe covering him as he leaves the room. Coming back a few minutes later with a cup of water and a dopey smile.

He lifts you up and tilts the cup against your mouth as you drink from it, placing it on your nightstand when you are done. Tucking the blanket over your naked body gently before walking over to his pants, quickly slipping them on. 

“Sleep well, pretty.” He kisses your forehead before leaving. You turn over in bed and feel a cold metal thing hit your chest. Bringing your hand up to it and looking down, a shell necklace to match his own, now around your neck. Another way of him marking you to come back to.

divider by @/cafekutsune @supermegabitchboyexceptimagirl your wish is my command <3

[monstersholygrail]

Could you please do something with Ghostface and any Monster bf?

Your Tentacle Monster bf didn’t really know what the whole deal was over Ghostface or why people were going so wild for them. Especially you, his most precious human. What was so great about a black robe and a mask when you had dozens of tentacles at your disposal that could fill every single one of your holes? Each tentacle has the ability to fuck you absolutely brainless on their slick lengths and yet you go feral over this?

Tentacle Monster bf just doesn’t understand. He stands in the costume shop, a grimace on his face as he fiddles with the plastic bag holding the Ghostface costume. But he plucks it off the rack anyway. He’d do anything for you, and when he saw you like all those videos of other monster bfs getting dressed up as Ghostface, he wanted to be able to give you that too. In fact, he wanted to be the only monster you liked doing someone like this.

He figured it must be a human thing too based on the knowing look the cashier girl at the counter gave him. As she rung up his purchase she kept glancing at him, her grin growing wider. His tentacles wrap around himself more tightly, somehow feeling exposed under the girl’s all-seeing eyes. He quickly grabs his things as she hands him back the costume.

“Don’t forget to have fun with the chase! The fear is the best part,” the cashier girl calls out as he begins to walk out.

Tentacle Monster bf stops short in his tracks. He glances over his shoulders, features drawn tight in confusion. But the girl merely winks before looking down and messing around with the cash register. Just when he thinks he’s figured this whole thing out, a whole other twist comes along to sweep him off his feet.

A chase. Is that why people went so crazy over it? Is that what you wanted from him? A wicked smile begins to overtake his features as he steps out of the shop. He could chase you… Oh, he could definitely chase you. A shiver of anticipation courses through him at the thought.

Standing outside your shared home, your Tentacle Monster bf situates his costume and puts the finishing touches on it beside the mask. He thought it would be best to surprise you with it. It would make it more fun!

Walking up he knocks on the door, not bothering to use his key. He hears no response from you despite knowing you’re home. He knocks again, a little harder this time. This time you call out his name, wondering if he’s lost his keys. He doesn’t answer now but knocks again, even harder. He imagines the tension growing within you, and how it’ll burst into a sea of arousal the moment you see him.

A second later the door swings open, revealing your wary face. Seeing its only your bf, relief starts to pour over your form. That is until you see what your Tentacle Monster is wearing and you pause, eyes widening. Your bf flashes you a grin that all fang.

“Get ready to run, baby,” he growls and slips the mask over his face.

Realization dawns on you quickly and you immediately turn and bolt down the hall. Tentacle Monster bf feels the thrill of the chase shoot down his spine and he snarls as he runs after you throughout the house.

Your body grows hot as you run from room to room. And it isn’t the exorcise but the arousal blossoming and coursing through your veins. Your core pulses with need as you loop around a bend, feeling your bf gaining speed and closing in on you. Letting out a fierce shriek you bolt into the living room. The chilling roar your bf releases as sparks shooting straight down to where you need him most. You don’t know what made your bf do this but god are you glad for it. You always fantasized about being chased but you didn’t know it would be this damn hot.

Just as you’re about to pass the couch, your bfs tentacle shoot out and curl around your ankles. You release a mix of a yelp and a moan as he forcefully swings you onto the couch, the furniture sliding back with the momentum. Tentacle Monster bf growls as he quickly mounts you, ducking his head close to your neck. Your holes clench around nothing as the Ghostface mask invades your space, terror and arousal building higher within in.

Tentacle Monster bf doesn’t say a word and it only makes everything that much more intense. All you can hear are his throaty growls and harsh breaths. More of his tentacle slip past the costume robe and up your legs. Before you can even adjust to the tantalizing sensation, your bf slams, not one, but two of his tentacles deep inside you with a solid stroke. A fierce scream echos off the walls, your back arching as he immediately begins pounding away at you.

Gasps and moans spill from your lips uncontrollably. You weakly try and meet his thrusts but it’s like something’s taken over him as your bf ruthlessly plunges his tentacles as deep inside you as they can go. Your eyes roll back as he keeps adding more, stretching you beyond the limits of what you thought you could take.

Tentacle Monster snarls at you as you keep trying to move. More of his tentacles whip out and wrap around your limbs, pinning them down on the couch. Forcing you to take what he gives you. And you love it. Your body in a constant stats of ecstasy. The never ending pleasure has you shaking as his merciless thrusts bring you closer to the edge.

He continues to pound away into your sloppy hole, the loud squelch of your bodies meeting only turns you on more. When you finally cum on his tentacles, clenching around him tightly, you swear for a moment you see white. A silent scream leaving you. And Tentacles Monster bf just keeps going, working you through one of the most intense orgasms of your life. He follows you in release after a few more erratic thrusts of his tentacles and you moan weakly as you feel them spurt his hot cum deep inside you.

His tentacles stay nestled in deep inside you as he collapses on your spent form. You reach up and carefully slip off his mask, warmth filling you as you can see his face again. Contentment washes over you both as the adrenaline of the chase begins to fade.

“I think I like this human tradition of dressing up in the costumes,” your bf rumbles, his tentacles twitching inside your hole, showing you just how much he likes it.

A soft moan leaves you and his tentacles move around a little more. You can’t help but chuckle, a dazed smile forming on your face as you realize you’re not gonna be going anywhere anytime soon.

[marshmellowjay]

"react to their s/o drawing them" "reader sketches their bf" NAH. WHAT ABOUT THIS.

Reader who has a secret hobby for painting like genuinely painting good ass portraits. Has a shed in the backyard for the whole thing it's dead ass bolt locked.

Said character finds it and somehow gets in seeing done and unfinished paintings only to notice one is on the wall. Seemingly in front of readers desk covered by a black veil.

Pulling it back they see a PERFECT. SHINING. BEAUTIFUL portrait of themself. Done and made in their whole image sitting on a chair or a throne or smth.

How would they react 🤨.

OR OR even a gory one for those killer/evil characters. Like those cool ass paintings where it's a character holding a bleeding heart or a skeleton or smth. Please. Y'all request this shit to good authors 😔🤚

ALSO IF YOU POST THIS PROMPT PLEASE TAG ME I WANNA READ IT 🙏

Repost plz :p

[deadghosy]

GHOSTFACE! MATTHEO X FINAL GIRL/BOY! READER

A/N: Credit to whoever thought of ghostface! Mattheo cause I swear I saw someone say it but I can’t remember who.

GHOSTFACE! MATTHEO who kills anyone in his way to get you. He likes the way your eyes widen in fear when he’s close to you.

GHOSTFACE! MATTHEO who stalks where you always goes so he knows you to go hiding places and escapes

GHOSTFACE! MATTHEO does shit to mess with your head. Going with fake calls and his voice changer.

GHOSTFACE! MATTHEO who goes absolute crazy when it comes to getting into your house. He knows your passcode to get in, he smiles darkly when he enters.

GHOSTFACE! MATTHEO who would kill any person that tries to get close to you romantically. He hates how he’s starting to like you.

GHOSTFACE! MATTHEO who would be a bit perverted towards you.

GHOSTFACE! MATTHEO who’s slightly sexually frustrated at how his final kill looks all scared likes pretty doe ready to get killed.

GHOSTFACE! MATTHEO who ever gets the chance to corner you, he’s going to carve his initials into your skin to mark you his.

GHOSTFACE! MATTHEO who likes the game of cat and mouse. With you being the mouse, he finds himself smiling underneath the mask as he stalks you down.

GHOSTFACE! MATTHEO who likes it when you see him from afar and start running. Let the games begin.

GHOSTFACE! MATTHEO who goes into a horndog seeing you whimpering underneath him as he grazes his knife against your skin.

GHOSTFACE! MATTHEO who could be a little nicer when stalking you down. Maybe leave a little nice threatening letter about how he wants to gut you open and keep you as a souvenir.

GHOSTFACE! MATTHEO who mindfucks you everytime you think you’re getting close to who’s the ghostface killer.

GHOSTFACE! MATTHEO who leaves small gifts only to be a camera. He may even leave a teasing one of where he will kill you.

GHOSTFACE! MATTHEO who does get a little nervous when you out smart him.

GHOSTFACE! MATTHEO who hates it when his heart beats for you. It’s a strange feeling when you’re begging not to be killed and then outsmart him. He likes his smart you are…

GHOSTFACE! MATTHEO who is always watching you from afar. Maybe he even watches you change through your window.

GHOSTFACE! MATTHEO who would love to keep you as his final girl/boy. Please keep teasing him with your own life.

GHOSTFACE! MATTHEO who will make you his only, and final girl/boy.

[night-night-stories-before-bed]

Nightly banter

Warning ⚠️; Blood and bad jokes

Pairing; Ghostface x gn!Reader

Summary; It is almost the Devil’a hour when you get a phone call. You know who it is and if this is to be yours last night, then you’ll make your caller work for it.

Note; I am currently sick with the flu and pretty high on meds so hopefully I didn't correct like shit. Sorry if I did :(

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sitting in your living room you enjoyed a good horror movie. The bowl of popcorn and potato chips on your lap was getting lighter with each minute that passed. You chuckled, knowing that movie by heart and whispering the quotes as they came. The jump scares didn't affect you anymore even tho you still appreciated them. Your eyes turned to the clock and realized it would soon be 3:00 in the morning. The Devil’s Hour.

And what a crazy time it was lately. The town was plagued by a series of murder featuring the sadly known Ghostface of Woodsboro, California. You grew up there as a kid and moved away to here. As an adult you didn't leave, yet, but with all those murders? Might be safer to take a plane to somewhere else.

You chuckled at the thought and shook your head.

Nah. You didn’t really fit any criteria to become the victim in a horror movie. Quite the contrary in fact. You lived a quiet life and enjoyed the calm that came with being in a small town. Well, maybe enjoying horror wasn't smart for the moment.

And you were careful; locking doors and windows and always keeping your best friend the blinky with you. While you weren't usually one for firearms, you did get one after the first murder. It was safer this way. While not wanting to give in to the paranoia, you also knew it wasn't worth the risk of staying harmless.

Your phone rang, stopping you from shoving a handful of popcorn into your mouth. You eyed the phone, wondering if you should answer or not. The caller was masked, and the number not showing and a shiver ran down your spine.

It could be anyone.

The killer.

Or kids wanting to make a prank.

With a shaky finger, you answered your phone, pressing it against your ear as you said as soft “Hello.”

- “Hello.” The voice of the caller replied. There is something sickly sweet about it. “Who is this?”

- “Who are you trying to reach?” You asked back, frowning as you get up to make sure all the doors and windows are locked.

- “What number is this?”

This time you freeze in your track, a shiver running down your spine. The conversation sound familiar. Too familiar. A feeling of dread fill your heart and you hold your phone tighter deciding to keep going, just to make sure.

- “Well, what number are you trying to reach?” You tried to keep the shaking of your voice discreet, but you are bad at it.

- “I don't know.”

You can hear the amusement in the other's voice, can almost imagine the smirk and hope this is a prank.

- “I think you have the wrong number.” Your voice has an edge to it now. You only want to cut the conversation short.

- “Do I?”

- “It happens. Take it easy.”

Enough is enough. This prank had lasted for too long already and you could feel your hand shaking. You stare at your phone, ready to hang up but the voice keeps talking.

- “You still haven't told me your name.”

- “Why do you want to know my name?”

- “Because I want to know who I'm looking at.”

The answer almost made you drop your phone. You looked around you frantically, trying to get a glimpse of where the fucker was. But all your curtains were closed.

- “What do you want?” You asked, returning to the sofa to grab your gun.

You heard the caller, Ghostface chuckling on the other side of the line. You wanted to throw the phone away and smash it in the wall. There was no way…

You clenched your jaws deciding that if this was real… you were going to make the fucker work for it. You'll be his nightmare and make him regret picking you for his next victim.

- “What do you want?” You asked again, slightly raising your voice.

- “To see what your insides look like.”

- “That sound kinky.”

- “What?”

You hit your head with the barrel of your gun, cringing at what you just said. It came out without you thinking about it. At least the killer sounded astonished, not expecting you to say something so… so… yeah. You decided to roll with it. At least you would die making fun of him.

- “You heard me, you kinky bastard. At least you could offer me a drink before wanting to jump to see my insides. For what do you take me? A harlot?”

- “Listen here you bitch…”

- “Oh, now I am the bitch?” You interrupted him, walking around your house and still making sure everything was locked. “Yet you are the one thirsting over my guts.”

You felt pride as the killer fell silent, as if he didn't know what to reply. Almost. Almost because you knew he was probably pissed off at you and God knew what he would do now. You weren't wrong, however. That fucker really was a kinky creep.

Walking around your house, you made sure everything was still locked. The killer wasn't talking anymore, but you could still hear his breathing. You hated the silence. It felt like a knife being held above your head, ready to fall and stab you.

- “You think yourself funny, don't you?”

Ghostface’s voice almost made you jump out if your skin. You didn't expect him to talk so suddenly nor to have such a cold voice.

- “Yeah, I am.” you replied with a chuckle, moving the curtain of the last window you checked. You saw a silhouette standing next to a tree. “I see you there, Micheal Myers wanna be.”

- “I see you too, future victim.”

You saw the silhouette waving at you and snorted. He could have at least given you a better surname than that!

You jumped away from the window as you saw the silhouette sprinting toward you. Raising your gun, you were ready to shoot the second the killer tried to touch the window. But instead of the sound of glass breaking, you heard something hit it followed by a loud thud. Moving the curtain again and looking toward the ground, you found the killer lying down. On the phone, you heard him groaning in pain.

It didn't take long for you to understand what just happened and you couldn't resist but laugh. All fear had left your body as you realized just how clumsy he was. Did he step on his dress? Did he stumble over a root?

- “S-shut up!” You heard the Killer’s voice growling on the phone.

But you didn't stop.

You fell on your ass laughing, holding your ribs for a few more minutes before putting the phone back to your hear.

- “Go home mister killer, you are drunk.” You chuckled, shaking your head. “Maybe stop at the hospital first, you might have a concussion.”

- “Fuck you!”

- “Fuck me yourself, clumsy boy.”

You heard him cursing at you and you only replied by making kissing sounds. You sighed as the killer hung up on you and there were no more sounds. You closed your eyes, pressing your back against the wall and waiting for something, anything.

But he was gone. Humiliated by his own clumsiness, he had left you. Hands shaking, you laughed again, this time nervously. Guess you were going to be in his sequel if he survived until then.

[sliced-n-diced]

Local serial killer (Reader) increasingly annoyed at some new guy ( what kind of dumb name is "Ghostface" anyway???) moving in on their territory...who the hell does this new guy think he is trying to take THEIR title of local boogeyman?! Sure..they havent Actually gotten a kill in a while (turns out you can get art block for murder) but still!!

Jed, local new guy, trying to get a genuine date with Reader after gaining a small interest in them during their first meeting and just keeps failing at it (hes Never failed to score a date like this what the fuck!?)

Cue love square/Enemies to Lovers tropes

[nothomegal]

So with the little oni April fools thing in dbd it had me thinking about the other killers with their favorite survivor turned tiny and I had a few thoughts with Danny, like him calling us Doll, Tiny, Bunny, Bite Sized etc. Him just carrying us around and holding us so close and tight like a toy, him saying how cute we are and how he could just eat us up. Meanwhile reader might pass out from fear or lack of oxygen from cuddles

This was an interesting ask, and it was pretty fun to think what could I do about it. Thank you anon!

And since I really liked all the little examples provided, I instead drew a little compilation rather than a single scene! ^^

Now they're scared of what the Entity has planned for the next April fools...

[slashersdaddy]

Hallo! I absolutely love Your writing! Can you make Another writing about Slasher x S/O that Accidentally Kill The Slasher Victim/Target? But with Jason, Michael, Brahms And Maybe Stu? I'm sorry if it was Too much To Ask. Take your time!

Of course! I love drawing for those guys!!!! I appreciate the support for my writing! Its not too much at all! I went ahead with using GN reader, since you didn't specify what gender, and i like writing GN anyhow! AS USUAL! MDNI: ALSO THERE ARE CLEARLY MENTIONS OF MURDER, ALSO BLOOD AND GORE+ A MAKEOUT SCENE

Authors note at the verrrryy end ;)

Jason Voorhees:

Jason's eyes raked over your blood soaked form, his mind reeling as you stood- over the blood soaked body. Hands shaking as you opened and closed your mouth several times, trying to find your words, but alas; you found nothing. Now dont get him wrong, Jason thought the look of you, soaked in blood was beautiful, but frightening- as this meant he had failed at keeping the victims away from the cabin.

No, failed at knowing where the victims were, and that in of itself was a grave crime. He walked towards you, lowering his blood drenched machete to the floor and pulling you into his broad chest, a low rumble of a hum escaping him. Jason is a man of few words, especially in times of stress, being mostly mute, but his voice- rough with misuse and drowning, came through the air like a soft comfort "I'm so sorry teddy bear, dont worry, your safe now" His tender words soothed you, and you felt yourself relaxing into his embrace, a breath heaving out of your chest that you didn't even realize you had been holding. Tenderly he led you to the small bathroom, running the water while sitting on the edge of the tub, you nestled into his lap as he drew the hot bath.

Soon the tub was full and Jason carefully and methodically removed your clothes, just as you found your words. "I-I'm sorry Jase, i just- they came in and i-" Your shaking voice pierced his cold heart like a sharp blade, his rough fingers stroking your hair, his blue yes finding yours under his mask as he lowered your shaking form into the warm water "Its alright, dont worry" He gently rubbed the blood off your trembling form with a wet rag, his eyes soft and calm as he cleansed your form. You sat in the bath for well over an hour, his silent form just rubbing away all of the blood until the water had turned a deep crimson and run cold.

As you rose from the bath, he wrapped a large towel around you. The towel was large and smelt of the forest and petrichor, mixing with Jason's scent as he carried you to your shared bedroom, laying you tenderly on the bed, pulling the blankets back and wrapping around you as though you were his stuffed animal, his hands tangling in your hair as he scratched your scalp with a contented hum.

Before you fell asleep only one thought crossed your mind- "He's right, I'll be fine, as long as i have him"

Michael Myers

As you watched, in seemingly slow motion as the would be victim lunged at Michael your instincts took over- your hands grasping a nearby butchers knife as you threw your body onto the attacker, driving the knife into his chest. Once, Twice, Three times. Before strong hands pulled you off and Michael's soothing voice broke your haze. "Its over. He's dead dove" The nickname he had called you for so long felt wrong in that moment as you began to shake, dropping the knife to the floor with a loud clatter, your hands flying over your mouth, the warm blood covering you a sickening sensation.

Michaels piercing eyes trailed your body, searching for wounds. He couldn't help the smile that pulled at his lips as he saw you, his beautiful dove, drenched in blood and gore- as though you were his very own angel he was corrupting- it was exhilarating.

But alas- he pushed those thoughts aside in favor of hugging you close, his strong arms trapping you in his warmth, the soft thumping of his heart soothing your frayed nerves. Michael took you to the bathroom, guiding your shaken form, his large hand rested on the small of your back, rubbing soothing circles. Michael knew he needed to focus on you right now, and not in the way his mind initially went when he saw you- stabbing the man who was meant to be his victim. So he sat on the toilet, running the bath till it was full, holding your body close to his own and kissing your face, to ease your stress, it was a silly thing, since he was really just smooshing your face with his mask, but it made you smile, and to Michael that's all that mattered. Once the water was up to the brim Michael stripped you, the clothes hitting the floor with a wet disgusting squelch as he put you into the water, grabbing his body wash and washing you with it. Normally he didn't like you using his soap, a peculiarity thing he had, but right now, he figured he'd rather you smell like him than like some wimp. so he worked on cleansing your body, hands nimble and soft on your flesh as he tended to you as though you were a frightened lamb.

Soon you found yourself in the living room once more, donned in one of Michaels oversized t-shirts and a pair of your own underwear, curled in the Halloween killers lap atop the couch, resting your head on his chest while you watched 'nightmare before Christmas' an old favorite of yours that Michael rarely sat though, not without busying himself with something else, but tonight, just for his little dove, he would sit with you, and let you hide in him while taking in the comfort of a familiar movie.

Brahms Heelshire

As your weapon of choice- a large metal pipe you had seen laying around made contact with the mans skull your eyes widened- the sickening crunch much louder than you ever thought it could be, the scream of pain cut short as his jaw was mangled, his body slumping to the floor, thrashing as he passed. Your mind reeled, and you found yourself leaned over- puking up what you had eaten earlier, it was sickening- the smell of death- the-the way the blood pooled in the carpet, surly to leave a stain.

The way your mind had rushed with dopamine at the way you smashed his skull. It was all too much, too much for you to bear. You honestly hadn't even felt Brahms arms wrap around your torso, or him pulling you into his chest until you felt the world stop spinning and looked up to see you were in the kitchen, sitting on a chair while he busied himself with making you tea, his head perking up at the sound of you moving and turning to you, his voice cherry as always "You are so so good, you followed the rules so well honeysuckle!"The endearing term brought you back down to reality- right, you HAD to do it, for Brahms, for his safety and so he wouldn't be hurt- it was only normal right? You reasoned with yourself, after all you took care of him, and he shouldn't deal with any more pain than he already had, you nod to yourself as he sets the cup in front of you, the scent overwhelming any lingering scents on you, lavender and chamomile, a calming sweet scent that rose to your nose quickly.

Brahms hands were gentle as he began to massage your tense shoulders, nuzzling into the back of your neck as you slowly rose the cup to your lips, taking a small slow sip of the liquid gold.

The rest of the night was a blur, Brahms leading you to your room, tucking you in and placing his doll beside you on the bed before taking his station near the door, watching you with a small smile as you cuddled into the warm blankets "That's right honeysuckle- your mine forever"

Stu Matcher:

Stu's eyes roamed over your blood soaked form as you tried desperately to tell him you weren't in fact the killer; but your words failed you.

only for Stu to laugh and smile at you shaking his head, walking over the body at your feet to pull you into an embrace, whispering in your ear- voice low and rumbling as he said "Oh I know that sweet thing~ its okay, you were just doing your best to survive, but you dont have to be scared of any big bad killer- ill protect you my little lamb" His voice was like honey- but held a chilling realization for you, the guy you had killed- he wasn't the Ghostface killer; rather your loving boyfriend was. The feeling was like a tidal wave crashing into you, but so soon followed by relief.

Stu wouldnt abandon you; he would stay even with the blood on both your hands nothing changed, you realiized as he crashed his lips against yours in a dominating and affectionate moment.

The kiss was deep and powerful, leaving you breathless as he pulled away, a strand of saliva connecting you for just a moment. snapped as Stu licked his lips "Its okay, now lets get this asshole in the ground yeah?" He asked, his usual playful demeanor coming back, and so you nodded, taking the spare Ghostface mask he held out "And on and on it goes"

AUTHORS NOTE: I ADORED writing this, especially Stu's part; if enough interest is shown (Or the parasites demand ;P) I may make that a whole fic and not a snippet; but that remains to be seen~ Happy spooky month my lovely little freaks!