Mask and You Shall Receive
This is for @jtargaryen18 Friday the 13th Flash Fiction Challenge. I chose the quote âShe canât hide; no place to hideâ and there will be a hockey mask.
Words: 1400+
Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader
Warnings: 18 +
SMUT, rough sex, sexual fantasies, and Iâm going to warn dub con/non con because of what did/did not transpire
Please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works. I appreciate likes, comments, and reblogs! Thanks for reading!
Summary: A lover of horror films, you reveal one of your fantasies to your darling husband.
It was only the nights that Steve worked late, that you kept the ensuite light on. A childhood routine that stuck with you on the nights your mom was out, or perhaps on the evenings, after watching a scary film with your babysitter; despite the warnings from both of your parents that the nightmares would come. Itâs the darkness at this very moment that has surprised you.
But it isnât the pitch black that has pulled you from your sleep, it was the movement, the hand that had shifted across your stomach and pulled your t-shirt up passed your breasts, sleep shorts long abandoned during this summerâs heat wave. His breath, warm against the back of your neck comes in quick bursts. A leg had been pushed between both of yours, the top angled slightly back as he had needed the space to enter you. You were usually such a light sleeper, and you were surprised that you had missed the push it took for him to insert his large cock deep within you.
The thrusts came in quick, rough bursts, not the usual pace Steve Rogers took. Â His hands are greedy, running over your breasts, left to right, left to right before pinching one of your nipples with such force, that a scream escaped from the corner of your mouth that wasnât pressed into your king size pillow. The sheets under you burn fire into your skin and he forcefully keeps pushing in and out.
âSteve. Steeeve,â you panted out. âWhat⊠oh fuck, right there, thatâs it baby,â you spit into your pillow, the saliva smearing across your cheek and leaving the space under your face damp.
Heâs handsy with you tonight, his grip on you fierce. Thereâs no kissing, no passionate words escaping his mouth. Itâs different, not feeling his lips all over you, how heâd lick the back of your neck and nip at it, tonight heâs all hands, molding your breasts into a masterpiece. Squeezing as hard as he can and pulling the flesh away from your chest.
The grunts get louder, the quick in out of his cock intensifies. His sweaty chest presses and slides up your back. You canât remember it ever being this wet before, your back, between your legs, the back of your neck where his breath repeatedly hits. The sounds coming from your cunt are loud, you can feel your fluids dripping and coating the inside of your thighs as he moves with fervor in and out of you. You push into him more, clenching around him and shoving your ass into him with force. Â It spurs him on, his movements rough, not the warm, sweet love-making that Steve Rogers usually bestowed upon you.
Thereâs a neediness within you; one where you need his mouth on you, those plump lips roaming across your skin, the taste of his saliva mixing with yours. You shove back against him, and raise your head from your pillow; youâre able to turn your head and reach your hand around to grab Steveâs head for the kiss youâre craving. But as your hand tries to pull his hair and pull him closer to you, your fingers run acrossâŠmaterial at the back of his head? Heâs resistant to your motions, and as you pull his head closer, cold, hard plastic hits your head. Itâs not your husbands face that you make out in the darkness, itâs the popular horror movie character that you had mentioned that night, many months before. Youâre intrigued that heâs chosen this night, Friday the 13th, to play out this sexual fantasy with you.
âIâm not going to call you Steve anymore,â you pant into the darkness, âItâs Jason fucking me now. Arenât you, Jason? Ramming that huge, murderous cock into me, those deep wet breaths and moans into my ears.â
No words escape his mouth, but a guttural moan fills your room, and you canât help but smile as you grind into him harder.
âOh Jason!â
The mask digs into the back of head as he picks up the pace. Itâs relentless, its almost painful, and everything that you had fantasized about.
Boosting your upper body, you adjust your arm into the meatiness of your mattress, pushing back with all your weight, using Steveâs cock with more force as your orgasm crawled up and over your skin. Gripping the sheets, your scream out his name, dousing both of you with your juices. He isnât far behind, grabbing a fistful of your hair and pulling your head back, each hard thrust coinciding with a deep moan as he comes inside you.
His fist loosens in your hair after he finishes, his chest, still pressed against your back is hot and sweaty.
Youâre finding it hard to keep your eyes open after this unexpected adventure and fall asleep to the movement of your husbandsâ breaths.
The bed is empty when you wake, hours later than usual, your head throbbing. Strange. I only had that one glass of wine with dinner. The other half of the bed is cold, the sheets tucked in as if Steve had never slept beside you during the night. But he was here. That ridiculous mask on, the one you had joked about him wearing when you two drank too much one night while watching Friday the 13th.
âShh, quiet, I love this partâ as you cover Steveâs mouth to hear, âShe canât hide; no place to hide.â
You were discussing the strangest fantasies you thought about and revealed to your somewhat vanilla husband, that something about Jason Voorhees turned your crank. The mask did something to you, caused a wetness between your legs. As embarrassed as you were exposing your deep, dark fantasies to Steve, you saw a glimmer in his eyes at the thought of entertaining you in this manner. And the sex that night, rougher than usual, sweaty, Steveâs vanilla tendencies dissipating as he burst, thrusting so, so deep inside you.
You find your husband in the kitchen, spatula in hand as he cooked breakfast on the stove.
âWell, look at you. First you rock my world last night and now you make me breakfast? Keep this up and I might stay awhile,â you say smiling and give him a quick hug from behind.
âWhat are you talking about? I stayed late working on a plan with Tony for the new recruits,â he said, giving you a look of confusion. âYou got some boyfriend I donât know about, sweetheart?â
 The name makes you blush, even though its nothing new. âOh, stop it. Last night was incredibly memorable.â
Steve gave you a look of confusion and before you can say anything, the doorbell rings. You look to him, wondering if maybe one of the guys are stopping by but he shrugs and places your breakfast down in front of you.
 âIâll get it babe! Start without me, OK?â A quick jog to the front door, unlocking and opening it, reveals a package leaning against the side of the house. As you step out, feet bare on the already warm brick path, you lean over to pick up the bagged package, and a light shape catches your eye, laying on the grass. You take a few steps further to see the item clearly.
 Itâs the mask from last night and it lays glossy plastic shining in the warm sun, on the front lawn, owner long gone. You feel the blood draining from your face, anxiety creeping up slowly and fear slowly closing in, your legs beginning to shake when you hear Steve call your name.
 âY/N?â
 You turn to see Steve watching you from the front door. Swallowing down the lump in your throat, trying to hold back your tears and keep yourself from appearing frightened. Moving away from the sight of the mask, you shift your body and try to remain calm as you walk by your husband, giving him a smile before you make your way up the stairs and into the shower to cry and release the horror you feel within. What exactly happened last night?
 Steve waits until he hears your bedroom door close and makes his way out to the front lawn. Picking up the mask, he tosses it into the air, catching it, a smirk and chuckle escaping his face before he heads back into the house, closing the front door behind him. He listens, making sure he can hear the shower running in your room before he opens the hallway closet, reaching up to hide the mask under a pile of junk that belongs to him that youâll never sift through.
âNext year baby, next year weâll play again.â
