HALLOWEEN DAY 16: Dress up - Billy Loomis x Fem!Reader
Pairing: Billy Loomis x Fem!Reader
Warning: Smut, kissing, marking, fingering, degrading (nothing too bad) I don’t think it’s too graphic.
Type: Blurb
Request: N/A
Word count: N/A
Prompt: You were trying on Halloween costumes when Billy walks in on you.
Notes: Literally don’t bully me.
Definitely frustrated with your wardrobe, you were trying anything and everything to make something work. Of course nothing felt right, you feared you had to buy something last minute for Stu’s yearly Halloween party.
You know you should’ve planned ahead, you kept telling yourself that for the past few months and now here you were in a skintight black bodysuit with an old pair of cat ears that you just didn’t like.
It had been two hours since you told Billy you were ready, not that you were lying, but it just didn’t feel right to you.
You’ve been friends with the boys since you were in middle school. When Stu brought up the party at the mall, Billy offered to drive you, it wasn’t out of the ordinary, it didn’t take long for him to be friends with your brother, then you.
Shuffling through your wardrobe, you kept ratteling your brain to make the best of what you had. You could only be so creative. You opted to keep your best friends away from making any choices for you. How hard could it be? However, the more you pulled from the hangers, the more complicated it seemed to become.
Your eyes scanned through the remainder of the clothes still on hangers when a sparkly number caught your eye.
It was pink, coated in iridescent glitter. It made a mess in your closet, sure, perhaps that’s why it was tucked so tightly away close to the wall. You yanked it from the hanger, causing the plastic to pop off the pole and into the rest of the pile of clothes.
Walking it over to your full length mirror, you pressed it against your figure. After a few seconds you opted to try it on. Before you did, you were sure you had some accessories to go with it. Along the shelf in your closet, you pulled some boxes that were hidden away, knowing you stuffed a few miscellaneous items in there. You couldn’t remember exactly what was in there, but it had to be something to go along with a costume of some sort.
As the boxes fell onto the floor, you pried them open, quickly digging through them. There was a few headbands, some satchels, a tiny hat. “What a bunch of junk” you murmured to yourself. Your hands kept digging through when something shiny caught your eye.
It was a crappy tiara, tiny and cheap, but it would do.
You tossed it onto your bed, with a sigh you pulled your shirt over your head and tossed it to the side. You then struggled out of your jeans, stepping over each leg to free yourself from them.
Standing in your room, clad in your underwear, you unhooked your bra, knowing there wasn’t one to go well with the dress when you felt a pair of eyes watching you.
Turning around, you pressed your loose bra against your breasts when your breath hitched to see Billy at the door frame. “I thought you said you were ready-“ he whispered as he stayed leaned against the frame.
“Change of plans” you argued.
“We’re going to miss the movie.” He added, yet stayed in the same position.
“You don’t have to take me.” You snarked, half joking. It didn’t phase him though, he was used to your bratty attitude.
“I know. Doesn’t make us any less late.” Still in the same spot.
There was a silence between you two, only interrupted by the music playing through your radio.
You're talking a lot, but you're not saying anything
“What are you choosing?” He wandered out loud, you didn’t know if you were more annoyed or embarrassed that he seemed to have no reaction.
“I don’t know, I was going to try this on.” You confessed.
“Then try it on.”
The music again taking place instead of your bickering. Suddenly there was a knot in your throat, he was slowly chipping away at your wall.
“Are you just going to watch me?” Your face contorted as you tried to keep the facade.
“Yeah.” He said in a matter of fact manner. There was a faint appearance of enjoyment in his face, if you squint you could see it. You knew your cheeks reddened at his abrasive mannerism, there was a silent mutual agreement that if anyone was uncomfortable, something would be said.
Secretly, Billy was expecting you to yell at him or shoo him out of the room.
“I mean, I think you would’ve closed the door if you didn’t want anyone to see you, but you didn’t.” Billy argued, letting a smirk form on his lips. He got you there, but you didn’t think he would check in on you like this.
There was nothing for you to say, other than to let your bra fall to the ground along with the rest of the piles.
The air only seemed to thicken. You hated that he was getting his way, but you hated even more that you were sinfully proud that your bare chest finally caused a reaction, even if it was so subtle. You saw the shift in his posture, but his face remained the same.
Reluctantly, you pulled the pink dress into your body, shimmying into the bodice, for a moment forgetting Billy was watching your breasts shift around with your movements. You pulled your spaghetti straps to sit upon your shoulders properly.
“Spin.”
He really had some nerve and again, you hated that something in you listened to him. You twirled around once, the skirt of your dress along with your movement.
You flattened out the wrinkles of your dress after it set from the abrupt spin.
“Put the crown on.”
“What?” Your breath halted, you looked over at Billy in confusion.
“The crown” he gestured to the piece of plastic on the bed.
“Really?” You pressed your lips together throwing daggers at him through your eyes.
“Really.” He confirmed.
You hesitantly reached for the tiara, holding it in your hands for a few moments before putting it on your head, the teeth of the tiaras band hooking into your locks.
When you felt it secure onto your head, you waited for a moment before looking back to Billy, who stared at you in awe.
“I’ve always wanted to kiss a princess.” Billy hissed through his teeth, taking the pressure away from the frame and making his way towards you. Your body turned to face him, staying put until he reached you, nearly breathing on your head.
Taking a step back, he took a step forward to follow you. What the hell is he doing?
His eyes were eating you alive, tracing all the outlines of your face, then your neck, down to your collarbones. You could feel his mouth watering, you could see his pupils getting larger.
Billy’s hand rose to touch your bare arm, his other trickling into your waist. You felt goosebumps form as his hands met your body for the first time. Your face looked up to him as he towered over you.
You’d never admit out loud that you were completely his, if he said strip you’d strip, if he’d ask you to bend over, you would, if he told you to pose for a photo, you would.
But he didn’t ask for any of those things.
Instead he dipped his head low, lips open and ready to consume you. His hot breath grazed your chapping lips, he stood there for a moment before he wrapped his arms around you abruptly.
His hands gripped you in an animalistic manner, his lips clashed against yours, you felt his tooth bump against yours as he bit down to your bottom lip. You were just limp in his arms, opening your mouth to let his tongue swipe across your bottom lip and against your own tongue.
Billy’s hands gripped your figure as he backed you up against the bed, the back of your knees hitting the corner. His hands reached down to lift you by the back of your knees, your dress hitched up by his grip. His hands traveled up your thighs as he gently placed you to fall against the mattress. Your hands wrapped around his neck, trying to intensify the kiss as you felt more and more of his hands explore the bare side of your body.
You felt his fingers hook onto the waistband of your underwear making way to shimmy it down your legs. You moved however you could to help him undress you, your arms still attached to him like he was going to disappear any second.
“Pretty little princess.” He murmured against the corner of your lips. Billy opened his mouth to press wet kisses against your cheek, his tongue and lips clashing against your jaw, then down to your neck. He sucked and nipped at the sensitive regions of your neck, slow at first, but eager not too long after.
All you felt was the sting of his bite, feeling the welts form as he kept sucking and nipping, not giving you time to catch your breath.
“Let me hear what makes you feel good.” He pleaded, smiling at the breathy moans he worked out of you.
“I’ve always wanted this little princess sitting on my lap. But I think this is better.” He groaned out, pushing two fingers against your folds. Your heart raced when you heard his breath hitch as your slick coated his fingers, he was already involuntarily moving his hips against you, pants still on, constricting him. He must’ve been aching.
You gathered up all your strength to reach down to his belt, trying to work at unhooking it.
“Don’t be a fucking brat.” He hissed, abruptly using his free hand to pull yours back causing you to lay flat on your back. You looked up at Billy through your lashes, his cheeks were flushed, hair was tousled and his chest was moving faster than normal.
Before you could whine, he sunk two fingers into your wet mouth, pulling them down against the corner of your mouth, forcing you to moan louder. He took this opportunity to sink his other two fingers into your slick hole, pumping in and out slowly before forming a hook with his fingers.
The feeling was pure bliss, your tongue spewed out, trying to describe your pleasure through a moan, it just sounded like a wet mess. Your eyes crossed as he wiggled his fingers roughly inside of you, he did this more for him than you.
“Bi-“ you choked out, causing the fingers in your mouth to grip your cheek tighter. Your legs were held open by his waist, only your knees were able to touch each other.
“Fuck. Good fucking princess. You’re such a mess.” He groaned, smeared lipstick stained your cheeks due to his grip, mascara stains were already forming due to the sinful tears of delight he was brewing in you.
“Fucking good little whore too, y’know that?” He asked without wanting a real response, you cried out when he kept his moment fast, still hooking into your cunt, your hips bucked at the overstimulation, forcing your eyes shut as you descended into bliss.
“My slutty princess looks so good when I play with her. Haven’t even sticked my dick in her, I wonder how many times I can make her squirt before I even take off my pants.”
Your eyelids fluttered open, half there, half not. Squirt? Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion for a moment before it turned into pleasure, feeling your core tighten as he kept his speed only adding a third finger.
Eyelids closing again, you felt yourself wetter than before, choking out moans at the feeling of defeat in your core. When your eyelids barely opened again, you only saw Billy’s mischievous and delighted grin. “Come on princess, I’m just getting ready.”
stockholm syndrome being a "rare psychological disorder" is some bullshit because I feel like it's very natural to watch a horror film and want to fuck him.
𖤐 ━ ˗ˏˋ i had to write out this possessive billy bullshit, cuz the idea in my brain is like the fucking jaws theme song. i cannot escape and the brain worms won’t leave until i write. it. out. even tho this character is so wildly out of realm from what i usually write, i’m dipping my toe in.
𖤐 ━ ˗ˏˋ for me and the ten billy loomis fans on tumblr.
𖤐 ━ ˗ˏˋ cw ꒱ fem! reader, cursing, possessive billy, jealous billy — bro’s a little unhinged in this, billy who wants you to crawl inside his ribcage, consent is a turn on, fucking in the backseat of his car, choking, getting caught.
Talking to Randy Meeks is charity work. You’ve never met someone who talks so much bullshit and says absolutely nothing at the same time.
You should’ve made Billy come to the video store alone.
Randy caught you browsing the horror section, riding up on his dumb fucking movie cart and almost knocking you over. You pretended not to see him, fingers tracing along the spines of different classics like you’re studying for a test.
“And so, yeah, in 1978, Jamie Lee’s first horror movie role —,”
“Was in Halloween. Yes, I know Randy. You’ve told me this about a hundred times.” You roll your eyes and give up, finally facing him.
He grins, crossing his arms as he leans against the shelf, trying to seem cooler than he is. “Smart girl. Surprised you remember.”
You give him a unimpressed look, hoping your thoughts of “please hurry back Billy, for the love of god,” will reach your boyfriend telepathically. “Right. It’s not like I’m dating the biggest horror fan known to mankind or anything, idiot.”
Randy makes a face. “Gross. I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.”
“Whatever.” You turn to walk away but Randy catches your wrist, squeezing. You stare at him incredulously. “Randy, you don’t want to do that,” you warn.
“Oh I think I do. I wanted to ask if you’d study with me after I get off work tonight.”
“There’s not a chance in hell my girlfriend is doing shit with you, douchebag.” Billy steps up beside you, looking pissed beyond belief. You sigh in relief.
Randy drops your wrist as if it burns. “Why the hell not?” He protests, puffing his chest and raising his chin a little.
“Because you’re a spineless creep who’s too dumb to understand what goes on in class,” he bites. “She’d fail if she looked at your shit.”
“I’m smarter than you, asshole! She’s asked to borrow my notes before!”
Billy grins, a nasty twist of his lips. He steps closer, lowers his voice. “Oh yeah? Well she let me hit it raw the first we fucked and I’ve done it every time since then.”
Your jaw drops. “Billy!” You hiss. “What the fuck!” Embarrassment eats you alive as you smack him the shoulder so hard it hurts your hand.
Randy goes bright red. He sputters something about needing to restock candy upfront and vanishes, Billy sneering as he runs with his tail between his legs.
You’re pissed at Billy, of course. And, as pissed at yourself as you are for this, his blatant possessive behavior turns you on. Bad. Your pussy throbs.
You twist a hand in the sleeve of Billy’s flannel and drag him towards the door, pinching his side when he waves his fingers at Randy with a smug smirk.
At his car, you point to the backseat with a scowl. Billy laughs and opens the door, sliding in. You speed to the other side and join, slamming the door shut.
Billy looks far too amused.
“What the fuck is wrong with you, Billy!” You smack him in the chest this time.
Billy rolls his eyes, still smiling. “A whole lot of shit, babygirl. But you already knew I wasn’t about to let that little prick flirt with you in my face.”
“What if I wanted to study with Randy, huh? You’re just not gonna give me a choice?” You challenge, looking him dead in the eye.
That wipes his smile clean off. His face darkens, brows pinching together. “You don’t get a fucking choice. You’re my girl, mine. You’re not hanging out with Randy so he can try and worm his way into your pants.”
You huff, staying silent. Billy sighs and rubs his eyes with the heels of his palms. “Just, c’mere,” he pleads, taking your hand and tugging. You slide into his lap, straddling him, the ache in your pussy becoming harder to ignore.
“You know I don’t want to be with Randy.”
“I know.” Billy holds your hips, thumbs rubbing over the bone. “Do you still love me?”
You smile softly, pressing your foreheads together. “Of course, dummy.”
Billy brushes his lips over yours, whispering, “then show me who you belong to.”
You groan. Nobody can judge you for how hot under the collar Billy’s jealousy gets you, or why you let him get away with so much bullshit. He’s just… Billy. And you’re in love with him.
His hands slide down your thighs, then up under your skirt, as you press hot kisses along his jaw, down the side of his throat. Sucking a hickey where it’s just this side of too high to cover without a turtle neck. Billy moans and grips your ass, tilting his head to the side.
Your hands run down to his pecs and stop to squeeze, then trail lower to play with button on his jeans. “Pull them down,” you demand.
Billy raises an eyebrow. “So bossy. You want my cock so bad, huh?” he teases, unbuttoning his jeans and shoving them, along with his underwear, to mid thigh. His dick bobs and smacks his lower belly, the sound muffled by his shirt.
“Duh,” you tease back, eyeing his cock. “Now help me so I can ride you.”
Billy hums, sliding your panties aside with two fingers, taking his cock in hand with the other until his tip presses against you. “Bounce on me, baby. Let me feel the tight pussy that everyone wants a taste of. That’s all for me.”
You sink down slowly, head dizzy with Billy’s words. “You’re so fucking jealous,” you moan. His cock stuffs you so fucking well, and you let out a little sigh when your ass meet his thighs.
“You’re goddamn right I am,” he says through his teeth, lashes fluttering. He wraps one hand around your neck, applying pressure. The other smacks your ass hard enough to leave a mark, grabbing a handful. “Now fuck me, baby. I know you can.”
He keeps his hand on your throat as you ride him. Guiding you with it. You cling to the seat behind him, nails digging into soft fabric, and the harder he squeezes the more blood rushes to your face.
“Billy,” you wheeze, pussy clenching tight and relaxing over and over. “M’gonna cum! Feels so good, please make me cum!”
“Yeah? Anybody can see through these windows, ya know. Watching you take my dick like a good girl. So pretty.” He stares with such intensity a shiver rattles your spine. His cheeks are bright pink when he breathes, “I’d let you crack open my ribs and hide next to my heart if you wanted.”
Morbid words send heat flaring through your limbs. Billy frees your throat and the intake of air buzzes in your head. You bury your face in his shoulder, listening to Billy pant as he grinds his hips against your ass, cumming with a whimper.
You never even notice Billy staring out the window with a shit eating grin, flipping Randy off as he stands frozen in shock not even ten feet away from the car.
⟢ having icky brain worms about billy again. and i keep watching scream. i’ll admit i had no clue where this was going other than fucking billy in his dorm room. and why can’t i ever write anything short??????????
⟢ cw ꒱ fem! reader, college au, cursing, drinking mentioned, billy giving off creepy vibes but fuck it we sleep with him anyways cuz he’s hot as shit, SEX!!!
⟢ m.list
Billy is weird.
Intense. Charming. Wickedly smart when it comes to your shared psychology class, and not at all who you’d expected to live in the dorm across from yours.
Despite often catching him sneaking into his room at 2:00 a.m., or the unease that tingles down your spine whenever dark eyes follow you across the courtyard, you like him.
Think he’s hot enough to sleep with whenever the chance presents itself even if he’s a little creepy.
Whatever.
Friday nights on campus are a riot. Parties galore, drunk people stumbling all over, and loud music that seems to play from every direction. Your roommate is one of those drunk idiots. After she, quite carelessly, bursts into the room well past midnight, two other girls in tow, you could not handle being in the same room with the endlessly giggling.
Billy opens his door before the third knock.
“Something I can do for you?” He asks, raising a brow. He braces his forearm on the door frame, right by his head, and glances across the hall when a high pitched squeal comes from your room.
You give him an unimpressed stare. “Pretty sure you can guess why I’m here.” Your gaze flickers to where his shirt’s ridden up, a small strip of skin exposed right above his waistband.
He smirks. “Guess so.” He moves to the side and waves you forward. “C’mon in. Was just watchin’ a movie.”
The horror movie posters on his walls leer as you step in. A pair of his jeans lies in a crumpled heap on the floor near his desk, which is surprisingly neat. “Halloween for the hundredth time?”
“How cute. You know me so well.” Billy brushes passed you and hops onto his bed, laptop bouncing in the process. He pats the spot next to him with a half smile. “I do love a good Jamie Lee flick.”
Your eyes roll, kicking your slippers off one at a time. “It’s on at least every other time I’m here.” You brace a knee on the bed, crawling to his side. Taking a second to sit back on your heels, still facing Billy.
“Don’t complain, Halloween is a classic. It’s not like we’ll be watching it anyways.”
A rush of heat floods your belly. “We’re not even gonna try and pretend?”
“I’d rather have sex. If it’s all the same to you,” he teases. Tilting his head slightly to look up at you, smirking again because he knows he doesn’t have to say much to get your panties on his floor.
You grin. “More than alright with me. That’s why I came here in the first place.” You reach out, running your pointer finger slowly along his lower lip. It’s soft and squishy when you press down.
Billy’s lids lower. “Not to avoid your pain in the ass roommate?” He traps the tip of your finger between his teeth, flexing the muscle in his jaw to bite. There’s a sharp pinch and then he lets go.
“My roommates just a convenient excuse to get in your bed.”
He surges forward, pushing you down by the shoulders.
“Billy!” You shout, letting out a startled laugh and slamming against the sheets.
He shifts between your thighs, crowding in with hands planted by your head. “What?” He asks, looking smug as hell. “You look good on your back.”
The laptop gets shoved off onto the floor. Billy says he doesn’t care if it breaks as he helps you out of your shirt and cups your tits. As he gets your pajama bottoms and underwear off. You push your hands underneath his t-shirt and he’s all smooth, warm skin. Soft to the touch, muscles jumping as your palms slide up and over his ribs.
He hums in approval. Billy pulls back to grip the back of his shirt and tug it off, tossing it aside. Your fingers slip below his waistband, rubbing the taut muscle and feeling the beginning of coarse curls.
“Get naked already.”
He snatches your wrists, pulling your hands free. “That’s not very polite, now is it?”
“Fine. Please, get naked.”
“Such pretty manners,” he says mockingly, shifting around to strip. When he settles between your thighs he’s just as naked as you. Billy’s hard cock bobs and touches your lower belly, leaving a sticky kiss. You tug on his shoulder and pull him into a real kiss, warm and wet and he moans into your mouth when you wrap a hand around his cock, stroking him slowly.
You turn your head to break the kiss. “C’mon,” you urge, brows pinching as Billy kisses down your throat. Biting where your throat joins your shoulder, sucking.
“Yeah,” he breathes, words pressed against your skin. “I’ll fuck you, stop whining.” He nudges your thighs further apart with his knees, thumb pressed to the base of his cock as he pushes the tip inside, pausing for just a second before rolling his hips until the rest of his dick fits snuggly.
You moan his name, running a hand down his side. Moving to take a handful of his ass and squeeze. His lips part, lashes fluttering, and his head tips towards the ceiling, hips jerking. When he catches your eye again it’s with an unwavering intensity that prickles at the back of your neck.
Billy finds both your wrists and pins them to the mattress above your head, tightening his hold until your heartbeat pulses in your fingertips.
Deep and steady, Billy fucks you and never breaks eye contact. Hard enough his headboard smacks against the wall. Hard enough that his next door neighbor bangs on the same wall and tells him to keep his dick in his pants.
Billy doesn’t give a shit.
Heat twists and builds drop by drop, and when your pussy starts to clench with every other thrust, Billy murmurs, “You close?”
You nod, fingers edging on going numb. The pads of his fingers tickle your palms and lace them together. “Then fuckin’ give it to me.” Desperation shines through the words as his brows scrunch together.
“Billy,” you moan, nails pinching the backs of his hands as your neck arches. He fucks you through it and straight through a second one, wringing it out as long as he can stand it. Until he yanks himself free and jerks off until warm cum covers your stomach.
You stay the night. And, for once, his lingering stare is comforting rather than unsettling.
stu and billy getting away with the murders and then comforting you later becuz ur besties are dead :(( you’ve got no clue that theyre the ones that killed everyone and they’re just happy to have u relying on them.
“oh babe i know, i miss them soo much.” stu fights a smile as you cry into his shoulder.
billy glares at stu before rubbing your back, “you know they’d want you to move on.”
“i-i just can’t believe syd’s dad would do this-” you weep, “-i’m so glad you guys are okay.” stu places a kiss on your head.
“of course, babe. me and billy kept thinking about you. you kept us from getting caught-” stu sends billy a wink and billy rolls his eyes. “-by syd’s dad.”
AGAGGGHAHHHHHHH I LOVE SCREAM SOO MUCH need billy and stu bad i fear
Here's some Billy headcanons because I think this fandom is STARVING.... and i myself need to write something
Warnings : he's a toxic horror movie character so you can guess what kind of stuff is mentioned
He's definitely a grumpy black cat
Bites your randomly through the day
Meeting stu is equal to seeing his parents
Takes a while to open up and be vulnerable with you
He calls you anonymously using the ghostface voice to scare the shit out of you
Gets a sick pleasure if you call him all scared begging him to come over because he makes you feel safe after getting the "anonymous" call
Hugs you from behind anytime he wants attention, no words, just him being suddenly behind you hugging you putting his chin on your shoulders or burying his face into your neck
Can be very pouty if you ignore him (if you guys have reached the true affection and love level)
Hugs you tightly while sleeping (good luck getting out of his grip)
Someone looking/talking/acting badly about you? Their body will be found later on a random Tuesday all gutted out and bloody
One time he attacked you as ghostface
You bet that mother fucker enjoyed every minute of chasing you around with a knife as you were blissfully unaware that "the monster who wanted to kill you" was your sweet billy your baby
Will stalk you (sometimes he's not even aware of doing it)
S: stu barges in unannounced and takes reader by surprise while she just happens to be baking a little treat for said obnoxiously lovable boyfriend 🍊🔪
●°𓇚 Sweet Distractions 𓇚°●
There you stood at the island of your kitchen counter, quietly going about making a batch of brownies. Your right hand held a wooden spoon, while the other held the bowl in place as you mixed up the batter until it was ready to go in the pan, completely oblivious to the intruder who had just found a way into your home...
Leaving a window open when there's a killer on the loose? How careless could you be?
You didn't hear the sound of heavy footsteps moving across the hardwood floor with practiced ease. You didn't see the tall, lanky figure that crept up behind you... until it was too late.
"SUPRISE!"
"HOLY SHI- STU?? WHAT THE HELL'S THE MATTER WITH YOU??"
You let out a blood curdling scream as your boyfriend grabbed you from behind and shouted obnoxiously in your ear. You nearly had a heart attack right then and there.
Stu snorted and stumbled back in feigned agony as you pulled away and slapped his shoulder.
"Ow! Hey, come on. It was a joke!" He pouted rubbing his "sore" shoulder. Yet he couldn't wipe that smirk off of his face. He wasn't sorry.
"You scared the shit out of me!" You scolded him, arms crossed like you meant business.
"How did you even get in here??"
"You left the window open." He shrugged before taking a few steps forward, crowding you against the counter.
"You know, you probably shouldn't make a habit of doing that. Not if you don't want some creep to come for an afternoon visit and gut you like a fish."
He brought a hand out to gently touch your cheek, a contrast to his flippant comment that would be almost unnerving had he been anyone else. You were still pissed at him for scaring you so badly, but couldn't resist the pleasant feeling of his palm against your skin.
"What- like you??" You retorted with a sassy little smirk and a roll of your eyes. When you turned back to continue mixing up your temporarily forgotten brownie batter, his long arms wrapped around you from behind, chin coming down to rest on your shoulder.
"Yeah, just like me, baby." He grinned before pressing a lingering kiss to the side of your neck. You shivered, and that made him do it again, only this time trailing a whole line of sloppy kisses down to your pulse point. He was definitely trying to distract you.
"H-hey, knock it off!" You protested, cheeks beginning to flush. "Or no brownies for you!"
"Aw come on!" He groaned, hands tightening on your waist.
"Come on, baby, I'm starving- both for the brownies and you. Just one little taste? Please~?"
You pulled the wooden spoon out of the bowl and held it up for him to take.
"You can have the spoon if you want."
Stu blinked at the spoon before laughing heartily and taking it out of your hand, temporarily letting you go. He leaned back against the counter beside you and watched you work. You were so stubborn, and he thought that was just the cutest thing.
"You know," He started, "as much as I love the taste of chocolate fudge, I think I'm craving something a little dif-"
"Stu."
"Alright, alright! Not in the mood, I get it." he held his hands up in playful defense, "can't blame a guy for trying."
You scoffed in both annoyance and amusement. What a pain in the ass he could be. An adorable pain in the ass, but a pain no less.
Your boyfriend finished with the spoon and chucked it into the sink just as you shut the oven door, having put the pan full of batter inside. He watched you like a hawk as you then came to the sink to wash your hands.
"You know what- C'MERE!"
Before you could even finish drying your hands off, Stu picked you up with a certain level of ease that didn't seem very possible for someone of his stature and hoisted you up onto the island counter, keeping his hands planted on your hips as he maneuvered to stand in between your legs.
"HEY! What do you think you'r- mnnh!"
He cut you off with a kiss that had you instantly melting and wrapping your arms around his neck. His hands pulled you in closer in response, your bodies practically fusing together as your legs instinctively curved around his slim waist.
When you pulled back for air, his lips chased yours before accepting the signal to stop and take a breather, although it wasn't long before he was back at your neck again, kissing and teasingly nipping at your sensitive skin.
"Asshole..." You grumbled, yet there was no heat in your voice whatsoever as you tilted your head to the side to allow him further access. How dare he make you cave in so easily?
"Don't pretend you don't like it." He smirked against your neck before biting down just enough to make you gasp.
Hey, my lovelies, back with another post of 14 days of Villains. I hope you enjoy it!
❀Stu loves having you as his girlfriend. He’s the proudest boyfriend in the entire world. He loves to show you off. He’s always throwing an arm around your shoulder as he introduces you as his girlfriend. It’s one of his proudest accomplishments to date.
❀Stu’s feelings for you become a little obsessive at times. He doesn’t want anyone to take you from him. You are his and only his, and he’s not afraid to threaten and murder those who attempt to take that from him. They force the unhinged side of Stu’s personality out to play.
❀Stu isn’t afraid to take your bag. He’ll gladly throw it over his shoulder when it’s too heavy. Why should he care what other people think? He’s not going to force you to carry something that he can easily take.
❀Always reminding Stu to get his homework done on time, he’s always the life and soul of the party, but he needs to finish school. You help him whenever you can; however, whenever you attempt to study with him. Stu can find plenty of things to keep him distracted.
❀Stu is a fan of PDA. He wants everyone to know you're together. He’ll pull you close and bring you onto his lap when you go to take a seat. Stu doesn’t care whose watching, he likes having you close, he likes smelling your perfume.
❀Stu’s always bringing you random gifts. Things he’s seen, things he’s thought you might like. He’s always thinking about you, what you’re doing, who you’re with, and what he could do to make sure you never want to leave him.
❀In fact, Stu’s almost certain you’re never gonna leave him because he’s determined to make sure of it. He’s going to do whatever it takes. He’ll tie you up if he has to.
❀He keeps a watchful eye on those who stare too long, who like to flirt with you at parties, and who are a little too friendly. He keeps the information for later.
a/n: I’ve wanted to write for Scream for forever and have never gotten around to it. Well, it’s slasher season baby! I finally have my reason. (When I tell you that this movie was my sexual awakening as a child, I mean it. That’s not necessarily good, but it’s true. )
Summary: Visiting a Halloween carnival with your two best friends doesn’t seem that bad until you reach the haunted house. You’ve never been able to explain your fear of demons to anyone before, you have no idea where it comes from. But you do know, going into a hell themed house with teenagers screaming shitty Latin at you is one of your worst nightmares.
You think everything’s okay until, suddenly, your nights are filled with visits from a strange shadowy entity and you don’t recognize the look in Stu’s eyes anymore. (Part of my Halloween Palooza)
“Hey! Demons are a perfectly rational thing to be afraid of.”
Billy scoffs and rolls his eyes, nudging you further toward the haunted house. “Alright, alright, would you calm down and just move it.” You stare into the gaping jaw of the devil that serves as the entrance to the house. You know this is all just a way for people to make a quick buck.
There’s not going to be anything in there except teenage actors and shitty SFX makeup. But that doesn’t make the looming doorway any less menacing. It doesn’t make your heart stop racing or your breathing any easier.
Billy frowns as some people shove past you all, tired of waiting for you to move inside. They cut the line and you can’t help but be grateful. Your nails dig into your palms until you feel the warmth of blood and have to swallow down bile.
Stu and Billy both lean towards you, varying looks of confusion on their faces. “Holy shit,” a grin breaks out on Stu’s face and he smiles widely at you. “You’re terrified, aren’t you?” He pokes you like you might be a statue, unmoving and solemn.
You stumble back and are effectively broken out of your terrified stupor. You swat at Stu’s wandering hands and glare at him. “Shut the fuck up,” you snap. But in your anxious state, it all comes out as one jumbled mess.
Billy lets out a disappointed sigh and gives you a funny look. “Alright, let’s just go. You’re not going in and it’s stupid to just stand out here all night.” Stu opens his mouth to argue but Billy shoots him a sharp look. You hate how sensitive they think you are. You can handle one stupid fucking haunted house. You’re not completely useless.
Still, you practically gulp as the Devil’s eyes bore into yours. You feel like your soul is being sucked out through your feet, leaving you startlingly cold. “I,” you clear your throat, waiting until it feels strong enough to speak. “I can do this,” you grit out, sounding like you’re trying to convince yourself more than them.
Stuf lets out a brief chuckle and Billy throws his elbow into his gut. Stu doubles over dramatically and you can’t help but laugh a little. Billy gives you a raised brow and you nod your head. “I just need a little nudge,” you mutter, glancing back at the house.
Stu grins and creeps behind you. “I got you babes,” he tells you in a ridiculous voice. You barely have a second to process what’s happening before he’s lifting you up and practically tossing you inside. Immediately, there’s a fake chainsaw in your face and a screaming Bubba Sawyer. You stumble back with a gasp, falling into Stu’s open arms.
“How’s that for a nudge?” Billy mutters as he brushes past you. You grab onto the back of his shirt and follow behind him. He glances over his shoulder at you with a knowing smirk and continues forward. None of the scares get him, but they get you.
The actors catch onto that. They also catch onto how fake and dramatic Stu is. Half of them target you for a good scream and the other half avoid you because of how obnoxious he’s being. You can already tell how bored BIlly is. There’s not enough gore in here for him.
He needs more blood splatter and fresh corpses, while you’re pleasantly surprised by the contents of the house. You’d really been dreading the demonic themes, but it seems like that’s not a huge factor. So far it’s just a few overzealous teens and some spiders on a string.
Sure, it’s still scaring the bejeezus out of you. But there’s a difference between a quick scream and a deeply rooted phobia.
You don’t know when this supernatural fear of yours began. Maybe your parents let you traumatize yourself with the crucifix scene in The Exorcist too young. But you know it’s been with you nearly your entire life.
You think you’re safe, that you can just relax and let yourself have fun, then you reach the final door. The lights are flickering so hard you think you might have a seizure, but you can see enough to know what’s before you. A red, rotted door, with three upside-down nines barely hanging onto it.
“Oh god,” you whisper and you think the boys can’t hear you. But then you feel Stu’s hands suddenly clamping around your neck and you leap into Billy with a shrill scream. Billy flinches away from the noise, turning to glare at you.
Stu doubles over, laughing his ass off at your expense and grinning wildly at you. “Jesus, we’re not even in there yet. What is wrong with you?” He says it like a joke but you can hear the truth of it lingering. It stings, the slight cruelty in his tone.
There’s nothing wrong with being afraid of something. Fear is healthy. The absence of fear is idiocy. You shove past Billy and turn to Stu with a mean glare. “I’m going to go in here and when I get out, I’m fucking leaving you.”
You shove the door open and take a step inside. You put on a brave face for about five seconds before you turn to see if they’ll follow you. You see just a glimpse of them before the door creaks closed. Billy is leaning against the wall, watching you with a half-amused expression. But Stu looks odd.
That doesn’t even seem like the right word. His face is completely devoid of any emotion. He looks expressionless and you’ve never seen Stu like that before. Whether it’s for good reason or not, he’s always making a face. Right now, you don’t even recognize him. Were it not for the outfit he was wearing you would think someone else had snuck up behind Billy.
The door is closed before you can call out to him and you find yourself plunged in complete darkness. There’s no noise for a long few moments. You can’t tell which way is the door and which is the exit.
At first, you worry you went in the wrong direction and entered an empty part of the house. A sudden cackle breaks through the air, and you leap forward, stumbling into the wall. You can already feel your heart beginning to race. Even though you can hear the static of a speaker and you know, deep down, that it's fake, you’re frozen in fear.
There’s a brief flash of light, just enough for you to see torn wallpaper and upside-down crosses. And something standing in the corner. “All alone?” A voice rasps and you whimper, pressing yourself up against the wall. You can’t tell if your eyes are open or closed, it’s too dark to know. You hope they’re closed. Whatever’s about to happen is going to traumatize you, you just know it.
A door creaks behind you just as the lights begin flickering on and off. Through brief flashes of illumination, you see something running towards you. They’re screaming Latin at you, water hits your face and you begin screaming uncontrollably. Footsteps pound towards you, egging on the racing beat of your heart.
A jarring grip lands on your shoulder and you swing out wildly. Your fist connects with something hard and you hiss in pain. There’s a brief pause where the only thing you can hear is your panting.
“Ow!” Someone snaps, an irritated raspy voice. The lights flick on and you squint against the sudden glare, blinking rapidly to try and lessen the burn on your eyes.
Billy and Stu stand on either side of you, astonished looks on both of their faces. A teenage boy in a shitty priest costume and red face paint stands before you. He’s rubbing his eye and cussing at you. “You fucking punched me!”
“You ran at me!” You yell back immediately, glaring at the little asshole. “I don’t think you’re supposed to touch me.”
He glares at you through one eye and points to Stu and Billy. “I didn’t!” He shouts and you flinch back, grimacing. “Your fucking friend did.” You clench your eyes shut, taking in a deep breath. Both you and Billy turn slowly towards Stu. His face is as red as the kid’s as he struggles to contain his laughter.
“Unbelievable!” You snap at him, slapping his shoulder roughly. He jolts, narrowing his eyes down at you.
“Hey!” He protests, “I was joking around. You’re the one that punched him.” He points the blame to you and you can’t argue. You did, technically, punch him. But it’s Stu’s fault. If he hadn’t snuck up on you, you would have just kept on screaming. You never would have touched the kid.
In awkward silence, you walk the boy out of the haunted house and buy him a cold drink to press against his steadily swelling eye. You can see purple shining through the fading paint and grimace. He throws himself down on a wooden picnic table and sighs forlornly.
“Thanks a lot, lady,” he mutters bitterly. Stu’s lips twitch as he watches the kid tug at his costume. You glare up at him and shove him away. He stumbles behind the table shooting you a sharp glare. You’re taken aback by the look.
It’s not like you’ve never gotten a little pushy with him before. His love language was manhandling. But the look on his face is unrecognizable. You’d thought you’d imagined it earlier, how off he had seemed. But it’s not fake now. You’re looking it clearly in the eye and you can’t deny the truth of it.
“I’m gonna sue,” the kid grumbles and you’re snapped out of your stare-off. You try and shake off the chilling feeling of unfamiliarity but it’s nearly impossible. You’re still wound up from the haunted house, you’re sure you’re just imagining things.
Billy shoves his shoulder and the kid falls back onto the table. “You’re not suing.”
He puffs his chest up and glares at Billy, “I could.”
Billy places his hand on the table, leaning in on the kid’s space until he’s flinching back. You avert your eyes, uncomfortable with the sudden display of dominance. Yet, you don’t stop him from bullying the kid out of a lawsuit. “You won’t,” Billy tells him, a clear threat.
The kid gives a shaky nod of his head, but Billy still doesn’t let up. There’s a slight curl of malice to his lips, you glance over to Stu for support. His attention is rapt upon Billy, something like hunger in his eyes. You feel like you’re watching two lions corner a gazelle, you can practically see the boy’s hands trembling from fear.
“Alright,” you clear your throat and tug Billy back by the shirt. He resists you at first and you know he only backs off because he wants to. It’s not for you. You look at the boy and give him a weak smile, “I really am sorry,” you can hear Stu laughing behind him and roll your eyes. The kid takes the drink off his eye and glares at you.
“Yeah, whatever lady. Why don’t you take a valium or something and chill the hell out?” He gets off the bench and brushes past you, shaking his head. You glance down at your fist and hiss at the pain shooting along your fingers. The skin of your knuckles is split and aching from hitting him.
Billy huffs out a laugh and takes your hand in his. “Really got him, didn’t you?”
“I didn’t mean to,” you argue petulantly.
Stu finally collects himself and rejoins you both, throwing his gangly body on the wooden picnic table. “Why don’t you tell his face that?” He practically snorts, looking down at your hand and then laughing all over again. It’s really not that funny. Even Billy looks confused by his boisterous nature.
He’s a dick, but this is a lot. You and Billy exchange a confused glance before looking back at Stu. But he’s silent now, already staring back at you both. Again, chills go up and down your arms at the empty look in his eyes. His lips are smiling, but his eyes are devoid of anything.
“Maybe we should just go home.” You suggest, trying to keep the suspicion out of your tone. “Carnival’s a bust,” Billy exchanges one last look with you before nodding.
“We still doing movies at Stu’s?” You desperately want to say no. Right now, all you want is to get as far away from him as possible. Earlier, with them and the kid, that’s normal. They’ve always had a bit of a mean streak when it comes to people weaker than them.
The way his eyes are boring into you right now is anything but normal. You’ve never felt quite so uncomfortable near him, but you can’t ignore the feeling. Every primal instinct of survival is screaming at you to run, but you can’t. You can’t say no. All you do is nod, tongue glued to the roof of your mouth. Stu’s eyes brighten slightly at your words, but it’s still nothing compared to how it should be.
You get ahead of Billy, not wanting to walk next to Stu. All you need is a good night’s sleep and you’ll be over this whole thing. Still, you can’t shake the feeling of too many eyes lingering on you as you make the trek to the car.
The wet straw beneath your feet swallows the sounds of your steps and you try not to be discomforted by the quiet. It’s a carnival, where did all the people go?
The black-and-white static of the TV is the only thing to illuminate the room. It shines upon your face, makes it so you can only see in that square of light. You assume Billy is on the ground, passed out. And Stu is probably curled up in the overstuffed armchair.
Yet, you can’t look. As much as you try to crane your neck, try and find some comfort in their presence, you can’t move. Your body is pinned down by a weight you can’t see, only feel. This isn’t sleep paralysis. It’s like being held down by someone stronger and bigger than you.
You have no control over your body. You have no control over anything. Your breathing kicks up, coming in short panicked bursts. Your eyes roll around wildly, trying to find something, anything, to focus on.
You find yourself depressingly devoid of any distractions. Until a shadow creeps along the ceiling. At first, you think it’s just your eyes playing tricks on you. Like when you stare at one spot in the dark for too long and start to see impossible shapes.
But this is different. No matter how many times you blink or look away, it keeps moving. You whimper as it crawls over you. It dangles from the ceiling. You see nothing, only feel its eyes on you. There is no clear shape lurking within it, just malevolent malice.
It drops down behind the arm of the couch and you open your mouth to scream, hoping to wake one of the boys. Nothing comes out but a strangled gasp of air. You struggle for noise but the more you try, the harder you find it to bring air in.
Your eyes swim as you go lightheaded. You almost miss the tendrils creeping over the fabric of the couch. You almost don’t see it covering your feet. You wish you had missed it. You wish you just closed your eyes and never opened them again. But it’s like something is keeping those pried open too.
You can’t feel your legs. That’s the weight. It’s not someone holding you down. Your body is completely limp. It’s as though your bones were replaced with metal, you’re sinking so far into the cushions they’re rising around you. Even your fingers are too heavy to twitch.
You begin to feel it in your head, a sudden sinking feeling as it tips further and further back. Soon, you can only watch the shadow through your peripheral. Cold terror washes over you and fills your veins with something ill.
It covers your legs like a veil, slithering on them. Your thighs shoot apart and the blanket goes flying across the room. You can only let out a choked whimper as it dives between your parted limbs.
You shoot up with a gasp, sunlight peers through Stu’s living room windows, filling the room with much-needed warmth. You glance down, fisting the blanket and tugging it up to your chest in relief. Your heart is still racing and there’s sweat caked along your neck. But you can move your body freely again. It must have just been an awful nightmare.
You glance to the side and nearly scream. Stu lounges in the armchair, Billy’s still asleep on the ground. Stu stares right at you, empty eyes, wide smile. “Good dream?” he inquires, but the tone of his voice tells you he already knows the answer.
You swallow, fighting the sandpaper feeling of your throat and shaking your head. “No,” you croak, afraid to speak much louder than a whisper.
His smile widens and you feel your head feeling heavy again. “I love a good nightmare,” he admits, like it’s an awful secret. He leans back in the chair and turns towards the TV, mindlessly flicking through the channels.
With his gaze off you, you glance down and pull the waistband of your shorts down. You swallow down your tears and bile. Your underwear, like you feared, is gone. You glance towards Stu and narrow your eyes at the back of his head. You have an idea who took them.
Your parents are out of town for the week. Normally that means Billy and Stu infesting your home like pests. They’re being oddly evasive when you call, though. Not that you’re complaining. You haven’t been interested in being around Stu since the carnival.
He makes you feel unsafe. As much of a dick as he could be, never, have you ever feared him before. But you do now. You’re terrified of him. Even thinking about him makes you want to get up and check your closets for unwanted intruders.
However, as much as his absence is a relief, it brings with it its own problems. Nothing with Stu can ever be easy, can it?
You keep having the same nightmare. Except each night it gets closer and closer. You feel more of it than you ever want to. They’re turning into uncomfortably sexual dreams. You wake up wet and without any underwear. You can’t blame Stu for that when he’s not even in your house, though. Which leaves you fucking petrified when you wake up.
Because you know, deep down, you know someone wasn’t in your house. Something was, though. A heavy presence lingers over you during the day and makes you terrified to walk around the open spaces of your home. You’d lock yourself in your room all week if you could, but even that doesn’t feel safe.
The door slams behind you and you jolt forward with a scream. You stare at your backdoor with a horrified expression, glaring at it like it might start talking and reveal its secrets. Your house is old, there’s nothing odd about doors occasionally closing on your own.
Except, that hadn’t been open. You’ve kept it firmly locked all week, terrified of a possible home invasion. You need to stop watching scary movies on your own.
You pull your knees into your chest, staring at your door until you’re satisfied it’s not going to slam shut again. Slowly, you turn back towards your TV and keep watching the only good sitcom you could find at this time of night.
The second you let yourself get comfortable, however, you hear your bedroom door upstairs slam shut, followed quickly by rushing footsteps. Your eyes widen in terror and you mute your TV, glaring up at the ceiling and hoping you just imagined it.
Footsteps behind you, running across the linoleum. You whip around, nearly shrieking when you spot something black darting into your pantry closet. You scramble for the phone beside you. You slam 911 into the keypad and press it against your ear, keeping your eyes riveted on the pantry closet.
There’s a steady beep on the other end. The line’s dead. Someone cut your phone line. That’s okay. You can work with that. You can beat something real, but you’ve got no hope against something otherworldly.
You stand slowly, unmuting the TV so the laugh track will cover your movements better. You creep towards your linen closet, reaching for the bat your dad keeps in there for this very reason. He’s got different weapons placed all over the house and you blame him for some of your paranoia. But right now, you’re eternally grateful for the protection it’s providing you.
You slip into the kitchen, sliding quietly across the tiles on your socks. You position yourself behind the pantry door, your hand shaking as you reach for the handle. Just as you rip it open, the lights go out.
You scream wildly, waving the bat around with as much force as you can, hoping to just hit something solid. Glass crashes against the floor and you feel the bat connecting with something. The lights flip back on and your mother’s vase is shattered along the ground. There’s no sign of the intruder and you think you might throw up when you hear more footsteps upstairs, two sets this time.
But then someone darts through the living room, another flash of black before they’re gone. Three? How are you supposed to handle three?
Something titters behind you, bordering on a giggle, and you whip around, bat waving through the air recklessly. No one was there, no sign anyone was. And there’s no possible way for you to have missed them running past you. There’s nowhere to go or hide.
You think of the shadow you’ve seen in the closet and the lights flicker like they’re agreeing with you. The thing that’s been haunting your nightmares, it’s in the house with you. The lights flicker again and your stomach drops to the floor. Your heart is in your throat as you hear your voice chanted from upstairs.
It’s like staring at the Devil’s eyes at the circus again. You feel like there’s something being taken from you. You feel cold, empty, like you’re missing something you need. Something’s toying with you. Making you it’s twisted little plaything.
You can feel the tears clawing their way up your throat. The call of your voice gets louder and louder until it feels like it's being screamed straight into your ears. You want to run, want to fight, want to do anything but stand here and you can’t.
You can’t move. It’s just like your dreams. Your bones are metal and you are stuck. There’s a rough shove to your back, though you don’t feel physical hands on you. And then someone’s moving you, your legs are puppeteered as you’re directed up the stairs.
You stub your toes on every step, crawling up them like a child learning to use them for the first time. Every time you slow down or try and stop, you’re dragged forward again. Your bedroom door creaks open and warmth carves its way down your cheeks.
You stumble inside, the bat thudding to the floor as your hand goes limp around the handle. You want to call out to the entity, but your jaw is wired shut. You stand in the middle of your room, sobbing and terrified and completely alone.
Your closet door slowly creaks open and you brace yourself for the worst. Billy comes flying out, shouting nonsense at you as you scream until your throat feels bloody. Stu follows behind him, ripping off his stupid mask and giving you a wide-eyed look.
You crumple to the floor, covering your head and crying as you come down from the fear that you are being haunted. Stu kneels before you, hands gentle as they take your arms away from your head.
He looks like Stu now. He looks like the boy you grew up with. His eyes are full of worry as he pushes wet strands of hair off your cheeks. “Hey, hey, alright,” he tugs you into his chest and you throw your arms around him wildly. You cling tightly to him, taking in heaving breaths and trying to find some comfort from his touch.
“You fucking dicks,” you sob into his sweater. “I thought I was going to die.”
Billy scoffs as he stares awkwardly behind him. “Yeah,” he mutters bluntly, “I can tell.” He watches you cry for a little while longer before he gets irritated. “Hey, this was supposed to be fun. Would you lighten up?”
You suck in a deep breath, astonishment at what he just said temporarily stopping the tears of terror. You rip yourself away from Stu, ignoring the way his hands linger. “Excuse me?” You demand, glaring up at Billy.
He shrugs, “It was just a prank, chill out.”
You scoff, taking in a sharp breath and nodding your head. “Right, no, you’re right. It’s not like my friends used my biggest fucking fear against me!” You shout, shoving him backward. He stumbles into the corner of your desk and you glare at him and Stu.
“You’re horrible fucking friends, you know that.” You storm out of your room and pause at the top of the stairs. They linger in your doorway. Stu looks like a kicked dog and Billy looks like he’s about to blow the hell up.
“I don’t even know how you guys pulled all that shit off, but fuck you.” You give them both an astonished glare before shaking your head and going back down the stairs. “I hate you,” you scream, your voice shrill and full of uncontrollable rage.
Billy almost follows after you, probably to give you a shit apology and then let everything smooth over naturally. But he stops, foot hovering over the top of the stairs. He glances back at Stu and frowns, “What the hell did you do?” Stu gives him a confused look and Billy glares. “She wasn’t supposed to be terrified for her life, fuckwad. What the hell did you do to her?”
Stu shrugs and gives him a too-wide grin and for the first time, Billy finds himself disturbed by his friend. “Magician’s secret man, cannot, will not tell.” He zips his mouth shut and tosses the key, winking at Billy. Billy gives him a disgusted scoff and follows after you. They can hear you ranting in the kitchen, slamming your drawers shut, and shouting vile insults at them.
Stu watches Billy go down the stairs, his smile slowly fading from his face. Something dark passes over Stu’s face, something wicked, something unnatural. Perhaps it was all just a trick.
Or maybe that kid’s Latin wasn’t so fake after all.
╔═ A/N ═╗ Based on this request. I apologize if I got the characterization wrong. I just feel like the darker side to his character is never properly explored. As goofy as he was, he was also a serial killer lmao
✬ Summary ✬ Stu's your best friend, you know him as well as you know yourself. At least you thought so. A snoop through his closet leads to a terrifying discovery. Now, everywhere you turn, that haunting mask is right there waiting.
“God,” you toss the remote on the cushion beside you. It bounces off the oversized couch and flops to the floor. “There’s nothing on TV,” you lament, draping yourself dramatically over the cushions.
Stu snickers and kicks his legs over the arms of his chair, shrugging with a smug look. “I told you we should have stopped by the video store.” His gaze drifts back toward the TV, grimacing at the obnoxiously loud MTV episode you stopped on.
“Hell no, Randy’s working tonight,” you scold, sharp gaze snapping toward him. He’s got a stupid grin on his face, clearly having decided that his form of entertainment tonight is going to be pissing you off. “I don’t feel like having him critique me for an hour on my poor taste in movies.”
He snorts and reaches to take a large handful out of the popcorn on the coffee table between you. “Maybe if you didn’t just rent stupid chick flicks all the time, he wouldn’t.”
Stu doesn’t have time to duck as you chuck one of his mom’s overpriced throw pillows at him. “Don’t act like you don’t love Pretty in Pink.” The pillow knocks the popcorn out of his hand, scattering it across the ornate rug Mrs. Macher bought last week. If she saw the state you’d gotten the house in this weekend, that ever-pulsing vein in her head would burst. As it is, they’re never actually at the house, it’s an oasis for practically half the school during the weekends Stu decides to throw a party.
For the first time in a while, though, it’s just you and Stu. No one else is here to rile him up or force him to put on a show. He’s at his calmest when it’s just the two of you. Which, honestly, doesn’t mean much for him, but still.
“I do not,” he objects, stretching out his lanky body and getting to his feet.
You roll your head lazily to face him, giving him a knowing smirk. “Billy isn’t here, Stu. You don’t have to lie,” you assure him, holding out your arms as he stops in front of you. You already know what he wants, he’s got that specific gleam in his eye as he smiles down at you.
“I mean,” he shrugs, “it’s not bad,” he concedes. Without another word, he throws himself on top of you, even prepared for it, you still feel the breath rush out in one hefty wheeze. Another thing you don’t see as much when others are around, just how goddamn clingy he is.
Sure, with his multitude of girlfriends, he’s touchy. But this is something different entirely. He clings to you like he would burrow into your skin if he could. He’s been that way since you guys were kids. While the feeling of others touching you might set you on edge, Stu fits against you like your missing piece.
Hands drifting up to play with his hair, you settle yourself against the cushions while he goes back to channel surfing, pleased to have you as his pillow.
The TV drones on, a dull buzz in the background now that Stu has the volume down. With his head practically buried between your boobs and your legs wrapped around his waist, you snicker.
Frowning, he props his chin on your chest, staring up at you. “What?” He demands, hating to be left out of a joke.
“Nothing,” you shrug as much as you can with him steadily pancaking you. “Just wondering what your girlfriend would think of us like this.”
“Oh,” he sets his head back down and places your hands back on his head to continue playing with his hair. “We broke up,” he tells you, like it means absolutely nothing.
“Stu!” You slap his shoulder, and he winces dramatically. As if you could ever do real damage to him.
“Ow!” He whines, bracketing himself up on his elbows so he can look down at you. “What’s your problem tonight?”
His hips are still lazily pressed against you, pressure increasing the longer he hovers above you. Swallowing thickly, you try to ignore the flush spreading through you. “You didn’t tell me you guys broke up.”
He rolls his eyes, glaring down at you. “I just did,” he points out sarcastically. You swat at his shoulder again, but this time, he catches your hand in his, lacing your fingers together with a smug grin as he keeps you trapped.
“You’re collecting these girls like they’re trading cards.” Despite his tight grip, you manage to slip out slightly from under him and prop yourself against the arm of the couch. “I don’t even remember the last one’s name.”
His face goes slack, lips parting as you see the cogs in his brain turning. He laughs and glances back at you with a dismissive shrug. “Neither do I. I just remember the tits.”
“Ugh,” you yank your hand out of his, ignoring his petulant frown. “You’re absolutely disgusting. What’s the point of even dating them?”
He slinks back against the other end of the couch. “I just said why,” he points to your chest with a grin, and you reflexively cross your arms. Stu tips his head back, dangling it over the edge as he stares up at the ceiling with a forlorn sigh. “I don’t get it,” he tosses his hands up, and you already know where this is going.
Head tipped back up, he narrows his eyes at you, “I don’t know why we don’t just date.”
You give him a deadpan look, arms still tight around your chest. “Dude,” you chide, “after what you just told me. Seriously?” When you were younger, him saying this used to set you alight. You’d get all dreamy-eyed, imagining what it would be like to be Stu’s girlfriend. Of course, you’d taken too long thinking about it, and by then, he’d already found a different girl to set his sights on. It had broken your heart, and their relationship had barely even lasted a week.
By now, you know better than to take anything he says seriously. Everything’s just one big joke to him. He’s so fickle you can’t trust that he would actually put effort into anything more blooming between you. You seem to be the only girl in his life that he actually thinks of as a person, going on a few dates with him isn’t worth screwing that up. Besides that, you’re not going to ruin the only friendship you’ve ever had that’s lasted more than two months.
Stu opens his mouth like he wants to say anything, but it snaps shut a moment later. His face sets into a glower, and you worry for a moment that you might have actually hurt his feelings. You’ve always thought the suggestion was just a sort of inside joke between the two of you. Though, he has been bringing it up more and more lately.
Your stomach flips unpleasantly, heart aching with guilt. It doesn’t last long, the feeling always remains fleeting. You’ve conditioned yourself for years to dismiss anything that might actually encourage you to pursue something with Stu. You love him, but you two would just be a spark waiting to light up.
“You’re staying the night, right?” Stu changes the subject, picking up the remote once more and not meeting your eye. Your lips part, and he cuts a glare toward you, “No girlfriend,” he stops you before you can even say anything. Your brows furrow, and he looks back to the TV. “No sleepovers if I’m dating,” he mocks the pitch of your voice, reminding you of the rule you'd enforced so long ago. Your lips fall in a flat, irritated line at his imitation of you.
“No girlfriend,” he reminds you, feigning indifference even though you can see right through him. Your plan was to go home, but you know him well enough by now. The set of his jaw, the stubborn way he won’t look at you, there’s no actual choice. You’re staying.
“Yeah,” you acquiesce with a low huff. “I’ll need to borrow some clothes.”
“You know where they are,” he tells you, still not meeting your eye. He’s never been this sensitive after you’ve rejected him before. What’s his problem? Eyes narrowed, you get to your feet, glaring at him the whole way up the stairs. He never loses the indifferent look, passive-aggressively turning the TV up.
Usually, you just grab some pants from the guest room. But with Autumn descending, it’s been getting colder, especially in Stu’s drafty old house. There’s a soft yellow sweater that you’ve always tried to steal from him, and he’s never let you get away with it.
Nabbing it would probably ease up the weird tension. He is a freak, he does love seeing you in his clothes. You figure it’s a solid plan and slip across the hallway, quietly opening his bedroom door.
As always, his room is a hot damn mess. The bed’s unmade, sheets completely untucked, and half of them sprawled across the floor. There’s a clearly well-loved nudie mag lying open on his nightstand, boobs bared boldly to the world. Rolling your eyes, you shake your head and turn toward his closet.
Your brows furrow, head tilting at the closed door. As odd as it is, Stu never closes his closet. It’s just another tedious task to him. Besides, he likes to just ball all his clothes up and toss them in wildly. You know his family’s old maid threatened to quit if she had to clean his room ever again. But you wouldn’t believe that looking into the closet now.
It’s not just clean, it’s pristine. Clothes hung up, sorted by color and sleeve length. Jeans all neatly folded away. The box of old books and junk he had just lying about are tucked up on the top shelf. “What the hell?” You whisper, looking around like you just stepped into Narnia.
Hell, maybe it’s a portal to a bizarro dimension, it would make more sense than him cleaning up after himself. Whatever, you don’t have time to dwell on Stu’s oddities, you’d just be standing here forever if you did.
You start in the yellow section of his closet, then drift toward the sweaters. And, of course, the only one you want isn’t anywhere to be found. It has to be buried somewhere in here, and you’re not giving up until that sweater is yours. You dig through his folded pile of jeans recklessly, hoping for a bright spot of yellow to be buried somewhere within them.
Tugging a little too hard on one of the stacks, something hard clatters against the wooden floor of his closet. “Ah, shit,” you hiss, shoving the jeans back and kneeling to try and spot whatever fell. Lowering your head to the ground, you peer under the hems of his shirts on the lower rack and squint into the shadows.
There’s a vague shape of something, and you reach toward it. Head tilted the other way, your arm stretches under the sweaters, blindly groping for whatever you sent tumbling. Your fingers snag on fabric, and you grin, thinking it’s the sweater you’ve been coveting.
Pulling it out, your smile stills, heart rapidly increasing speed until it feels like it’s going to beat out of your ribs. There’s a twisting pain in your stomach, anguish and immediate denial flooding through you as you stare down at the mask in your hands.
It’s just a cheap drugstore mask. Around Halloween, you could find it anywhere. You could easily dismiss it as something Stu bought as a fucked up joke. Were it not for the flaking copper on the chin of the howling mask. Your fingers tighten around it until you think it might crack.
Slowly, you tilt your head back toward the shirts. This wasn’t what fell. A part of you screams to just chuck the mask back and pretend you never saw it. You could go downstairs, continue your movie night with Stu, and pass out beside him on the couch. Lying to yourself would be so damn easy. It’s just a mask, half the guys in school bought one because they thought it was a fucking joke.
But your body isn’t interested in weak excuses. Bowing over, your hand swipes across the wood once more, wrapping around the object that fell. Before you even drag it out, you already know what you’re going to see. A pulsing pain spreads through your chest, eyes watering as you stare down at the knife in your hand.
A serrated hunting knife, to be exact. The same one Dewey said was used to kill Casey only a week ago. God, how had you not seen this? How could you have been so blind?
Stu had been the number one suspect, but Billy had been his alibi, no one could place him at the scene of the crime.
There has always been something twisted about Billy. It only got worse when his mom left. Maybe this was all his idea, maybe Stu was just dragged into this, but he doesn’t really want-
Your thoughts fade into a dull silence in the back of your mind. There’s no excuse. Stu has always been different, just slightly off. His jokes nearing the wrong side of dark. But you never would have thought him capable of something so brutal.
Footsteps sound up the stairs, and your brain shocks itself awake. Quickly, you toss the mask back under the clothes and shove the knife into the jeans. Wiping your eyes, you leap to your feet and rush out of the closet just as Stu barrels into his room.
The both of you pause, staring blankly at each other. You, a deer caught in a hunter’s snare. He, the drooling wolf, waiting to pounce.
Slowly, his eyes drift toward the closet, the light you left on, and the door you hadn’t had time to close. He turns back to you, and something twisted curls at the edges of his lips. Adrenaline shoots so fast through you it nearly knocks you off your feet.
“Looking for something?” His tone is light, barely audible, as he takes a step closer. It takes every ounce of self-control not to back away from him.
Something too strained to be a smile curls your lips up. “Um,” you lick your lips, swallowing down the dryness coating your tongue. You laugh nervously and take a step toward his bed. “Just that sweater I love.
He stalks towards you, and your eyes widen, heart fluttering in your chest. Just when you think he might run you over, he steps around you and heads toward his dresser. You turn, afraid to take your eyes off of him.
Peeking above the corner of a drawer is a yellow sleeve. He slips it out easily, holding it out to you with a grin that shows off all his teeth. “Thank you,” you whisper, voice cracking around the words as you snatch the sweater out of his hands.
“I made more popcorn,” he tells you, eyes wild as he stares down at you. “Halloween’s on.” It’s a simple invitation to a movie, but it feels like there’s a knife to your back. You have no choice but to step out of the room and head down the stairs. Every bit of you screams to act natural, to pretend that there’s nothing wrong.
How could you be? Your best friend, the boy you’re practically in love with, is slaughtering your friends. He’s running rampant through your town and killing girls just because they broke up with him.
Risking a glance over your shoulder, you see him already looking at you. The smile is gone, now he’s just watching you with this bemused expression, like he’s waiting for you to break and make a run for it.
You take a seat on the couch, lean against the pillows, and glue your eyes to the screen. Suddenly, Jamie Lee Curtis babysitting is the most interesting thing in the world to you. Stu takes his seat beside you, sinking into your side and wrapping his arms around your waist. Stiff as a board, you can’t find it in you to return the touch, too petrified by the thought of all the blood on his hands.
He doesn’t care for your trepidation, taking your arms and wrapping them around himself. He presses his face into the crook of your neck, lips brushing against the sensitive skin as he speaks. “What’s your favorite scary movie?”
Avoiding Stu has been easier than you thought it would. Usually, he’s more persistent in making you hang out with him. Especially when your parents are both out of town at the same time. But he’s been suspiciously quiet since you prematurely ended your weekend stay last week.
You managed to make it through the night. Though, while Stu dozed on top of you, you had been wide awake. Limbs stiff, eyes unblinking, the whole night had been spent on high alert. You’re not sure if he knows you know, or just suspects it. Either way, you should have turned him in by now.
The second you left his house, you should have gone straight to the sheriff. You know who's behind the Woodsboro murders. You know who the infamous Ghostface is, and have a suspicion who his other half might be. You could have stopped all this.
Casey and Steve would be avenged. If you had something, another person wouldn’t have been killed two days ago. You didn’t know him personally, you’d never even seen Stu or Billy interact with him. But this felt less like an attack on him and more like a threat for you.
Keep quiet, or you’ll be strung up by your intestines.
Triple checking all your doors and windows are locked, you head upstairs to your room. Prepared to camp out for another sleepless night. If you turned him in, you wouldn’t have to live with this paranoia anymore. Every corner you turn wouldn’t be prefaced with the idea that he might be waiting behind it. No matter how hard you try, you can’t pick up the phone and call the cops.
You lay back on your bed, listening to the radio in the hopes it might lull you to sleep. It never works, but you hold out hope. The shrill ring of your home phone echoes throughout your empty home. Sitting up on your elbows, you glare at your closed door like it might shut the damn thing up.
Abruptly, it cuts off. The empty halls of your home fall silent once more, the low droning of your radio barely audible above the blood rushing through your head. You hold your breath, eyes peeled on the door in front of you, waiting for… something.
The phone goes off again, and you jump, shooting off your bed and grabbing the bat by your nightstand. Slowly, you open your door, peeking your head out before you attempt to cross the hall to your parent’s room. There’s a phone in there, and you’re more comfortable up here than you are beside your glass patio doors downstairs.
You practically kick the door open, jumping inside the room like you’re prepared to bludgeon someone with your bat. The shadows are thick inside, but you don’t see a cloaked figure waiting for you within one. Feeling confident enough, you run toward your parent’s nightstand and grab the phone. Running back to your room as fast as you can and slamming the door closed behind you, you sink to the floor.
Thumb hovering over the button, you let out a shaky breath and answer. “Hello?” You try and instill confidence in your voice, but you can’t hide the tremor.
“Hey,” Billy’s voice croons on the other end, he says your name, and a shudder rolls down your spine.
“Billy?” His name is a hoarse croak as you feel your heart thud dully inside your chest. “What’s up?”
“I just wanted to tell you something.” He pauses, and you bite your lip, nails digging into your palms as you wait for him to speak. “I’ve always wondered,” there’s a click, and then a raspier, unfamiliar voice speaks, “what do your insides look like?”
Something slams against your front door, and you drop the phone with a shrill scream, jumping to your feet and whirling around. You hear Billy’s distorted cackle echo through the speaker before abruptly cutting off. On the floor, three low beeps sound out. Bending down, you pick up the bulky phone and press it to your ear. Nothing but white noise. You toss the phone on your bed and swallow down another scream. No service.
You’re all alone.
The startling realization of silence rushes over you, gooseflesh rises along your arms, the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. The banging downstairs has quieted and your house is once more silent. But it’s no longer the same vacant stillness it was before. There’s someone here, it’s an instinctive feeling. Long buried prey instincts warning you of a predator sniffing you out.
Creeping quietly across the floor, you avoid the creaky wood that would give your movements away and once more open the door. It seems foolish to put yourself so boldly out in the open. Being cornered in that room is no better. No matter what, it’s just you and him all alone out here.
You wonder, as you peek your head around the banister, if this is just Stu stalking you. Is Billy getting rid of a liability? Is it both of them?
One, you could handle on your own. But if it was the both of them, the only thing you could do was go down swinging. If you were going to die tonight, you weren’t going to let it be easy for either of them.
Your front door is wide open, an easy escape. There was no point in running. Either one of them is waiting outside for you, or they’ve cut the brakes on your car. You crouch, peering through the railings and silently making your way down the stairs. Try as you might, you don’t see signs that anyone has come inside.
Besides the door, there are no clues to give away where they might have gone. You don’t want to play the role of the bimbo in their sick fantasy. Despite the instinct to call out for someone, you swallow it down and continue through your home.
Beyond the stark terror of facing your own mortality, there is also the pain of being so thoroughly betrayed by Stu. You know the truth of what he is, of what Billy is. And you kept it quiet. You buried his dark secret like it was your own, protected him. This is how he repays you?
This is his answer after years of you loving him. How could he?
You stand in the middle of your living room, bat hanging limp by your side. The aching pain of grief and fear stills your body. The fight wanes inside you, debating whether or not prolonging this is worth it. The others all fought back, and they died bloody. Maybe if you just gave in, it would be quick, painless. Stu could at least grant you that.
There’s a brief flash of movement in the reflection of your patio door. It’s slight, like a shifting shadow. Only one thing gives him away, the white, howling mask. Instinct overrides sensitivities, you whip around, bat flying. There’s a low groan as it smashes over his head.
Reaching up, he snatches it in his hand, using it to jerk you forward. You’re quick to let it go. Instead, you aim for his throat. Hands outstretched as you reach up, gripping his neck as tight as you can. There’s shock in his stuttered breaths, like he hadn’t thought you would fight back. You were beginning to doubt yourself, too.
Turns out you’re too stubborn to die.
The bat clacks loudly against the wood as he stumbles back into your mother’s glass coffee table. His legs kick up, tripping you and sending you stumbling into his chest. The both of you go plummeting backward, glass shattering around him and the wood crumpling like a tower of cards.
Jagged shards cut at your arms and bare legs, but you know he takes the brunt of it. Your grip on his throat is unrelenting, you pick his head up and slam it against the wood. He lets out a dazed groan, and you would laugh were you not trying to stop your best friend from killing you. He seems ridiculous, wearing this stupid cheap mask and moaning like a cartoon character with a bump on their head.
He bucks under you, hips pressing up against yours as he flips you both over. Pain rips through your back as the glass digs into your skin. Letting out a low whine, your hands slack on him for just a moment. It’s still long enough for him to get the upper hand.
He straddles your waist, pinning you below him with his weight as he kneels on your swinging arms. You’re utterly paralyzed, with no other choice but to stare up at him as tears stream, hot and slick, down your cheeks.
Stu rips his mask off, eyes wild as he grins down at you. “Damn, sweetheart,” he laughs, and it only makes you fight harder against him. Screaming through your teeth as you try to buck him off of you. “Didn’t know you had it in you.”
He tosses the mask to the side and motions to the knife in his hand, “Surprise,” he practically sings the word, watching for your reaction. You bite your tongue, hiccuping on a sob as you stare up at him through blurry eyes. “Right,” he concedes, tilting his head, “you already knew.”
You can feel the blood pooling beneath you, the glass digging further into your shredded skin. It only makes this all the more unbearable. “Stop,” you beg, voice breaking as you struggle to hold back the tears. “I didn’t tell,” you shout at him. “Why are you doing this?” The tears break around the rage slipping through your voice as you glare up at him.
“What are you talking about?” He snaps, his amusement waning the harder you cry.
“Billy!” you shout the name out, just barely managing to wiggle one wrist free. He snatches it up instantly, the knife falling beside you as he leans over you, digging your hand into the glass above your head. “He said you wanted to see my insides,” there’s no controlling the sobs now. You don’t want to die. You don’t want Stu to be the one to kill you. Somehow, though, you think this would have hurt worse if it was Billy holding the knife.
Stu’s face falls before quickly twisting up into something angry. He backs off, easing his weight just enough for the press of glass to sting a little less. “No,” he utters, shaking his head. “No, that’s not the plan.”
Stu looks nearly manic as he stares down at you. Something unfurls inside you, years of friendship have you reaching up with your free hand. You don’t know what your plan is until he’s leaning into your touch, eyes never leaving yours.
His hand grips your waist, easing you into a sitting position. You want to curl up into a ball and go hide in a dark corner. You want to shove glass down his throat and run. The knife looks particularly appealing beside you.
But you do none of that. You let him tug you closer, hand tightening to the point of pain around your waist, but you don’t think he realizes, and you’re too afraid to point it out. “You’re our final girl, baby,” he practically fucking giggles, and you struggle not to flinch from the sound. “He was just fucking with you.”
“Yeah?” You snap, fingers trailing toward his hair and yanking until his face crinkles with pain. “Then what the fuck,” venom coats your tongue, voice low and deadly, “are you doing right now?”
He smiles, leaning into the way you rip at his hair. “Screwing around,” he laughs, and he sounds like a goddamn idiot. Scoffing, you release him, jerking out of his grip and ignoring the way it pulls at the wounds on your back.
“God,” you crumple into yourself, shoulders hunching forward as you hide your face behind your hands. “I can’t believe I ever thought you could love me. You’re sick, Stu,” you snap, holding back more tears.
Blood and glass surround you both, the shattered fragments of your friendship. Stu looks more hurt than when you strangled him. He reaches for you, and you jump back, shaking your head. ‘I was never going to kill you,” he swears. But what does the promise of a murderer mean to you?
“I don’t believe you,” voice a whisper, the tears spill over once more. He looks between you and the knife like he can’t decide what to do. You wait for it, for the snap before he just plunges the knife into your gut. Twisting it and dragging your death on.
Instead, he lunges forward, wrapping his arms around yours and forcing you into his embrace. “Stop,” you claw weakly at his shoulders, snagging your nails in the cheap cloak. You shake your head, but the fight is over before it even begins. Your arms curl around his neck, and you sink into his familiar embrace.
His gloved hand skates over the wounds on your back, and you whine, arching away from his touch. He offers a whispered apology, but you don’t believe it. “Billy’s not going to touch you,” he swears. “I’m never going to hurt you.”
“You already have.”
His arms only tighten around you, pulling you into his lap as you cry. You might not believe him, but he knows the truth of it. You’re his best friend. The only person besides Billy he’s ever actually cared about.
You are his perfect final girl, and he’s never going to let you go.
Scream for Us // Danny Johnson/Billy Loomis/Stu Macher/Reader
A chance encounter with the Ghostface! Turned sexual! Not clickbait!! (Real)
Reader has become a target of the Ghostface murderer, but they find themself outmatched with... three Ghostface killers?!
Enjoy having Danny, Billy and Stu all to yourself. Dirty slut (loving).
Content Warning: BDSM (bondage, blindfolds, impact play, DP, DVP, TP, spit-roasting, choking, CNCish), anal penetration, degradation/mocking, cum eating, snowballing, oral sex (receiving and giving), blood play, hair pulling, biting, wound fingering and no aftercare (this is the worst one out of all of these honestly. Absolutely demolishing Reader and no aftercare?! Maybe they are monsters after all, chat).
Pronouns used: She/They
Length: 8,120 words. 5,536 is the smut.
Read on AO3 // Consider commissioning me
It was just supposed to be a regular night for you, just like all the other ones. You cook dinner while commercials play in the background, some of them calling your attention, but, ultimately, you keep an eye on your food. Once your food was made, you would carry it to your living room, set it down on the table and pick out a movie. It was getting colder outside, with leaves changing colors and dying, falling onto the grass and concrete, coloring the once green world with shades of red and yellow. Halloween was approaching in only a month, and you could feel it in the air, tingling your skin, a giddiness arising within your chest; so a scary movie was what you had planned for dinner tonight. Perhaps you'd go with Halloween itself, but you wouldn't make a final decision until you've carefully considered every horror movie at your disposal.
But your plans weren't going past dinner. As you stood over your stove, lightly shifting from foot to foot as you moved to season the chicken in the pan or stir one of the sides, you felt a chill rush over your spine, making you shiver and gasp quietly. What was the spiritual significance of that again? Someone walking over your grave? Perhaps that's all it was. Just a random cold-chill. Then it happened again, and you groaned in mild frustration, knowing full well you didn't leave any of your windows open. With an aggravated huff, you set the wooden spoon you were using to stir down on the counter, turning to face your living room. You froze as you watched your curtains flutter lightly, occasionally exposing the plexiglass underneath. Your heart raced in your chest, drumming violently within your ears. How could you not hear it open? Yet you made no move to go close it, licking your drying lips as you stared it down, eyes frantically scanning the immediate area around the window; nothing else seemed disturbed, which gave you a sinking feeling within your stomach, a creepiness blanketing your skin. There was a serial killer on the loose, but... surely it wasn't him. It couldn't be. What would he gain from even watching you? You felt almost too average for his tastes, despite that being his preferred victim type. The boringly normal.
"Whatever." You groaned, peeling your feet up from the floor as you walked to close the window. Your heart beat harder the closer you got, mentally preparing yourself for someone to jump through it the minute you got close. But nothing of the sort happened. Your trembling hands grabbed the top of the window and slammed it down, immediately locking it into place, your curtains fluttering to a still. Sweat beaded across the back of your neck as you stared outside, trying to see if anyone was lingering within your yard. Nothing. No one. It was dark out anyways, so it wasn't like you'd be able to see anyone if they were wearing darker clothing. You shake your head and sigh through your nose, stepping back and pulling your curtains shut again, soothing the fabric with a single hand before you turned around again.
Maybe you should've jumped out of your window and booked it for the neighbors house, because standing in your kitchen, just where you had stood? A man in all black, casually tending to your food as if he was helping you out. A familiar chill washed over your body, goosebumps spreading all across your skin, your legs heavy as you gawked at the man's back. He was in a long jacket it seemed, something that both hugged and hid his figure, but you could tell he was strong underneath it. A few odd straps hung from him too. Fuck, what a freak.
"He~ey, that smells good~" A voice coming from your left made you jump, your head snapping towards the sound. A Ghostface mask was within your line of sight, and your heart dropped down to your feet, eyes wide as you watched the other man step from your hallway, that stark white mask staring towards you. You couldn't breathe for a second, all the air in your lungs was removed, leaving you with a slightly agape mouth, struggling to breathe back in.
"Doesn't it? Our little toy knows how to cook." The man at your stove spoke this time, and you heard the clicking of the burner nodes getting flicked off, followed by the sound of pots and pans being moved off the stove and set onto their respective places on the counter. As he turned, you could see his mask too. Another Ghostface. Bile churned up towards your throat as fear coated your insides, spoiling your appetite. They were both pretending like you weren't there watching them.
You felt a hand sliding over your shoulders, making you finally suck in a large breath while also making you shudder. You didn't want to look. Who the fuck else was in here?! But you gulped down the saliva that pooled in your mouth, slowly turning your head, only to whimper out when you were met with a third Ghostface mask. This had to be some fucked up prank, right? This one tilted his head, his fingers digging into the shoulder furthest from him, his other hand raising, the tip of his knife shining from the light in your kitchen. Tears welled up in your eyes now, and the Ghostface from the hallway shook his head slightly.
"You're scaring her, dude! C'mon, we just wanna play a game or two, baby."
"The whole fucking point is for her to be scared, dumbass," the one closest to you lightly poked his knife against your cheek, watching as tears flowed freely from your eyes, rolling down the blade and dripping from the handle, "look so pretty with tears all over your face, baby. Can't wait to see more of them." He yanked you close, nicking your cheek as he did, causing you to hiss as the saltiness of your tears stung the cut. You shook in his grasp.
"I think the two of you aren't helping either of your cases." While the other two seemed to have similar voice modulators, the one who took over your meal prep had something deeper, and a little more crackly. Getting a quick glance between the two who bickered, they were wearing the same outfit too. Some pitch black robe with weird frayed tendrils hanging off the large bell sleeves. Your lower lip quivered as you looked between the three of them. No one knew there were three Ghostface killers, or, at least, it wasn't ever mentioned in the media. Seemed like it would be an important bit of information to share if anyone did know it, though.
You swallowed thickly, your eyes fixated on the one in the kitchen, watching as he tilted his head at you before he calmly raised his hand, using his index and middle finger to beckon you with a come-hither motion. Your whole body shook harder, keeping your in the arms of the other Ghostface, who clicked his tongue in annoyance at you seemingly not wanting to move. How could you when he still had his knife to your cheek and a firm grip on your waist?! But the Ghostface who beckoned you... you could feel his eyes boring into you, attempting to burn a hole through your body with just his gaze. It made you whimper again, and you squirmed experimentally, testing to see if your captor would release you. Fuck, thank god he did. On uneven legs, you carefully crossed your living room, your mind racing a mile a minute; you could try and run for the front door, but it was deadbolted, chain locked and locked, so you wouldn't have enough time to even get one of those unlocked before one or two of the Ghostfaces were on you. You're going to die tonight, huh? The thought made you cry more, your throat tight and hot while you gripped onto the sides of your shirt, audibly sniffling. The walk to your kitchen felt like it took hours at this point, but you finally stopped before the Ghostface, refusing to look up at him as you cried. Leather against your cheeks made you jump and jerk back slightly, but his grip tightened to keep you in your place. He tightened his grip in a warning. He tilted your head up, the rough leather brushing just under your eyes, smearing the tears across your skin.
"Aw, dollface, don't cry just yet. We haven't even done anything to you," you could hear the smug grin on his face, "c'mon, we interrupted your dinner. Take a few bites for me. You can do that, can't you?" He stepped to the side to turn around, sliding his hands off your face in process, though now one rested on your hip, the masked man guiding you towards the pots and pans he moved to the counter for you. You didn't want to eat anymore, the night has soured beyond belief and your appetite with it. You felt like you might throw up if you ate something, but as you both stopped in front of the food, he was already moving to pick up a fork, easily cutting into a piece of chicken before he stabbed it, gathering a few steamed vegetables and mashed potatoes onto the backend of the fork, holding the bite up to your lips expectantly. You looked up towards him with your lower lip quivering, the hand on your hip massaging as if to comfort you. The silence in the air was thick, heavy, and it made you want to scream at the top of your lungs. That would end with a knife slitting your throat though, you were certain of that. Defeated, out of options, you looked away from the Ghostface, slowly parting your lips, half expecting him to shove the forkful of food halfway down your throat, but he didn't. He eased the food into your mouth, resting the bottom of the fork against your tongue so you knew when to close your mouth, and he dragged the utensil from your lips, watching as you chewed. Once you swallowed, he reached to pet your head, sending a shudder down your spine. God!! Freak!!
"Taste good?" The hallway Ghostface spoke so close to your ear now, making you jump and instinctively shove up against the one who fed you, who chuckled at your actions as he stroked your head again, "Aw, baby, we ain't that scary, right?" He tilted his head at you before he stood at his full height. Surely, his boots made him an inch or two taller, but he was definitely taller than the first Ghostface, "Dude, I'm starving, lemme have a few bites before our main event, ma~n." He was whining, eying up your dinner.
"Jesus, dude, you're supposed to be a scary killer, remember? And you're letting your fucking stomach dictate you right now? Seriously? You're pathetic." The third man spoke up, his annoyance clear despite the voice modulator. They liked to bicker a lot it seemed. Old friends, maybe? They had a chemistry together, the two of them, while the one you currently leaned on seemed to be more of a loner. How the hell did they all even come together?
Hallway Ghostface shrugged off the other, taking the fork from the first Ghostface's hand, gathering up some of the meal onto it before the piece of chicken he stabbed ran into the mouth of his mask, making him snort and giggle, "Oops~ Forgot about this damn thing," he lifted his mask just enough to expose his mouth, and you watched as he ate. His jaw muscles flexed, his tongue flicked out to lick his lips, and he hummed in delight, "fuck, that's good shit. I can take some of this with us when we're finished, right?" His real voice cut through this time, and your heart beat quickly. He took another bite, setting the fork down on the counter. He savored this second bite, licking his lips again after he swallowed, turning towards you with a wide grin on his face, "Compliments to the chef~" He leaned down and captured your lips into a kiss, your eyes widening at the action. You whined, pulling your head back.
"Wh-What the fuck--" Your voice shook as you spoke. The man giggled again, reaching with a singular hand to hold the side of your neck, his thumb stroking at the column of your throat while his other fingers rested on the back of your neck. He leaned in close to you again, his grin resting on your lips now, his breath wafting over your skin as he whispered to you.
"We don't wanna hurt ya, baby, not unless you want us to that is," he leaned closer, his upper lip against yours, "do you want us to hurt you? We'd love to hear you beg for it." He kissed you again, sparks littering your skin, igniting a fire in the pit of your belly. It wasn't overly rough, just enough pressure to feel that he was eager for the contact, his lips moving almost sensually against your own. It made your head spin, and you found yourself matching his kiss, leaning into him a little even. The attention felt nice. You felt needed, wanted. Desired. You were so engrossed in the kiss that you didn't notice the third man had approached, his hand burying itself into your hair near the roots, and he yanked harshly to peel you away from the kiss that had yet to get too heated.
"Don't be a fucking greedy bitch, Stu." He growled, his own voice catching you off guard, though he didn't give you time to linger on it before his own lips were on yours. His kiss was rougher, more dominating, and he made quick work of slipping his tongue into your mouth, lulling a moan from your lungs.
Stu scoffed dramatically, then pouted, "Fuck, Billy, we weren't supposed to use our names, asshole." He nipped at your throat, his hands resting on your hips now and massaging in circles. You groaned at the feeling. One of your hands had reached to grasp onto Stu's cloak, your other hand gripping onto the unnamed Ghostface's jacket. Your head spun harshly, your senses overwhelmed when you felt Billy's other hand roughly groping at your breasts, attempting to pinch your nipples through the fabric of your shirt and bra, eliciting a lewd moan from your throat, though his mouth swallowed it down.
"You're both greedy bitches, Billy," he finally spoke again, wrapping his leather hand around your wrist, prying your grasp from his jacket and moving your hand down, making you cup his hard cock through his pants, "but I don't think our little toy minds, hm?" He rubbed against your palm, tilting his head down at you as you were released from Billy's kiss, leaving you panting, "Do you mind us being greedy, dollface? Hmm?" Your eyes were half-lidded as you gazed up towards him, your head shaking from side to side. You felt his dick twitch against your hand. "Thought not, dirty slut." Your cunt clenched slightly at his words, his mask soon leaving your vision as Stu hoisted you up and over his shoulder with ease, your hands grabbing fistfuls of his dark cloak as he carried you down the hallway.
Was this really happening? Were you about to get fucked by not one, not two, but three Ghostfaces? The thought excited you in a way, heat spreading throughout your face, down your chest and settling in your abdomen. Arousal coated your underwear, you could feel it seeping out and slicking your labia. You lifted your head slightly, watching as the two other men followed behind Stu, who was pawing obsessively at your ass and thighs, making you shudder and grip onto his clothing tighter. It wasn't long before you felt your back hit your mattress, though you didn't have time to get adjusted with Stu slipping his knees up between your legs, parting them, making them rest on his hips. To your right, near the top of your bed, Billy joined, settling on his knees near your head, drawing your attention briefly before the unknown man settled on his side on the opposite side of you, his head rested on his hand as he stared you down. His hand reached to grasp your jaw tightly, the man scooting closer, his forearm above your head so he could lean over you, his voice a seductive, though harsh, purr as he spoke again.
"You ready to scream for us, doll?" Your legs squeezed Stu's hips and he grasped your hips tightly, tugging you up against his crotch, which he ground against you with a shakily exhale.
"Fuck yeah she is." The man sounded exhilarated, eagerly rocking his hips against you, rubbing your underwear up against your clit, making you gasp and whine, tilting your head back slightly. Your lips hung open as you whimpered at Stu's grinding, though the Ghostface tapped your cheek, bringing your attention back up to him. This was already too much to focus on! And that must've been obvious, as the man hovering close to your face chuckled lowly within his throat, tilting his head a little.
"Uh oh, boys, I think we're overwhelming our little doll already," he shifted slightly to push his mask up with his other hand, just enough that his lips were exposed, "ain't that a damn shame, princess." He kissed you finally, like a man starved. Unlike with Stu and Billy, this man kissed you ravenously, gripping your jaw so hard you swore he would leave bruises, his lips moving eagerly against yours. If he wasn't wearing gloves, you knew he would be digging his nails into your skin, perhaps even making you bleed from his grip alone. That thought made you moan softly, giving him enough opportunity to slip his tongue against your own; he tasted overly sweet with a heavy mix of coffee, but you weren't complaining, the hint of vanilla lingering on his tongue was welcome.
You heard Stu giggle again, grinding against your pussy a little rougher, while Billy grabbed at your wrist, bringing your hand up to his bare cock. Your fingers wrapped around it, the appendage hot and heavy against your palm, making your legs squeeze around Stu once again, your pussy fluttering. With a loud whine, you started stroking his length, pushing your hand down to the base before dragging it up to his tip, your thumb massaging the underside of his cock as you moved. Billy shuddered out a breath, settling a bit more into your mattress as you worked, his eyes watching your face intently for a moment before he reached to grope at your tits again. Stu pulled back a little, just enough to grab the edges of your pajama shorts and underwear, pulling them off your body with ease, the man gawking down towards your wet pussy. His cock throbbed in his pants, another exhilarated exhale escaping him as he brought his gloved fingers up, pressing them against your entrance but not pushing it, instead dragging his index and middle finger up to your clit, gathering your arousal; his hand withdrew slightly so he could spread his fingers and watch as you strung between the digits.
"Shit, guys, I don't think they're gonna need prepped much," he leaned over to smear his wet fingers onto Billy's cock, something to make your hand glide over him, "fuck, Danny, dude, can I go first this time? Pretty please?" You were released from Danny's clutches after what felt like eons, gasping and panting desperately as your lungs inflated, burning warmly as air flooded your body again. Billy had started to lightly rock his hips, using your hand to fuck himself, his head tilted back slightly as he panted quietly behind his mask. Your eyes watched as Danny licked his lips slowly, making you squirm in place. He smirked deviously down at you, caressing your cheek almost tenderly.
"Well, dollface, can he go first? Get you all nice and wet for us?" Danny's lips pulled back a bit more to show his teeth, his canines sharp as he lapped his tongue over them, "We wanna be able to slide ri~ight on in." You had no idea what the trio had planned, and, quite frankly, your brain was frying already, and all they've done is kiss you and make you jerk one of them off, so you nodded, shuddering out a gasp as Stu slapped your bare thighs with enthusiasm, the man pulling his dark cloak up to hastily undo his belt. Billy pinched your nipple over your clothing, grabbing your head and forcing you to look over at him, his gloved hand resting on the back of your head soon, pulling you towards his aching dick.
"Suck it, bitch," eagerly, your lips parted just as Stu stuffed his entire cock inside of you, a moan ripping from your still burning lungs, vibrating Billy's cock, "shit." He groaned, keeping a firm hold on your head as he started thrusting into your throat, making you gag for a second, your cunt squeezing around Stu in time. Both men groaned loudly in unison, their thrusts both powerful, but different from one another. Stu thrusted in, hitting your cervix with a bruising force, Billy pulled his hips back. Keeping a cock buried inside you for every second of this encounter was their goal.
Danny shuffled next to you, his hard dick pulled from his jeans, the man guiding your hand to him. You hollowed your cheeks when you felt his Jacob's Ladder piercing against your fingers, a pathetic whimper escaping your throat, your legs jerking in Stu's grasp. Seriously? A fucking Jacob's Ladder?! And it was a full set too, from the feel of it at least. The thought that it was going to be inside of you, rubbing against your walls... it drove you insane. You were already certain that Stu had a piercing, something near the tip of his penis, because you felt it rub into your g-spot every few thrusts, but that was nothing compared to how Danny's piercings felt in your hand alone. Maybe they did plan to kill you, but from overstimulation and orgasms. Hell of a way to go, you figured. With a hiss, your head was yanked off Billy's cock, the man rubbing his wet shaft against your cheek for a second before he released you from his grasp, clicking his tongue. You didn't need to be guided to Danny's cock, simply turning your head and taking him into your mouth. He stretched your lips a little more than Billy had, and you noticed you couldn't take all of him, not without relaxing your throat a lot. Not to say that Billy, or even Stu for God's sake, are small, or average, quite the fucking opposite, but Danny seemed to be thicker, longer. Fuck, heavier. Even if by just a little. So focused on sucking the man off, you didn't notice Stu lifting your lower body up while Billy pushed you onto your side a little, just enough so he could lay down and have you on top of him, your back against his chest. Your hand stayed at the base of Danny's cock, your palm flat against his body, your fingers sprawled up to rest on his abdomen, your head eagerly bobbing as your tongue swirling around his length.
It wasn't until you felt another dick pushing into your pussy that you dared to pull back from Ghostface, but his hand shot out, gripping your hair near the roots as he kept your head in place, "Ah, ah, ah, dollface. You're gonna take it like the good little whore I know you are and keep sucking my cock, got it?" He reveled in how you whimpered pathetically around him, a loud moan muffled as Billy pushed his entire length inside of you, stretching your pussy around his and Stu's cocks, "Such a good girl for us. You're doing so well, letting us use your body. Fuck, I bet you like that, huh? The Ghostface killers stuffing you full. Dirty fucking slut."
Stu whistled out, picking back up his thrusts, his hands gripping just under your knees, "Always stealin' my thunder, Billy," he tutted, slamming his cock deep and sitting still, grinding roughly against the other man's cock, pushing into your cervix harshly, "so not fair, man." He reeled his hips back to slam into you again, making you scream around Danny. Tears began to spill from your eyes again, your nails digging into his skin slightly, making him softly groan. Shifting just enough, you managed to turn your torso a little to put your other hand on Danny's hip, gripping onto him for leverage as the other two thrusted unevenly into you, taking turns hitting your cervix. It was too much, and you pushed the cock into your throat, your pussy fluttering a few times before clamping down onto the hard dicks buried inside of you. Your orgasm washed over you in almost painful waves of pleasure, your body tensing up between the three men before you relaxed in their clutches.
Billy growled underneath you, ripping your shirt down the middle, your bra soon falling to that same fate, his gloves groped your bare flesh greedily, roughly palming your tits, molding them with his hands as he thrusted harder; he rolled your nipples between his fingers, pinching the perked flesh and tugging, "We didn't fucking tell you to cum yet, bitch," he hissed, pounding against your cervix rhythmically, "stupid fucking slut, thinking you can just fucking cum whenever you please." His voice was low, growling and domineering.
"Aww, ease up on 'em, Billy. Poor thing couldn't help it~" Stu cooed so sweetly in your defense, unrelenting in his thrusts despite your orgasm making you sensitive, "It'sa compliment, buddy. Don't be ungrateful."
Danny pet your hair as you sucked on him desperately, trying to distract yourself from the overwhelming sensations the other two were giving you. He hummed in his throat, tilting his head curiously as he watched you, "Think you can handle a third cock, baby?" He grinned when your eyes widened, those tearstained eyes rolling up to meet his mask. You tried to speak around him, having to opt for shaking your head. There was no fucking way you could handle all three at once. Your pussy would be sore, stretched. They might fucking break you! But Danny chuckled, stroking his fingers through your hair soothingly, "Aw, sweetheart, I wouldn't shove it into your pussy. Surely you know that, right?" You clenched around the two cocks that had begun to stutter in their movements, their thrusts uneven and sloppy.
"Sh-Shit. Gonna have to hold off on that, Danny." Stu moaned out as he pushed himself to the base inside of you, his cock pulsing as he climaxed. Billy wasn't far behind him, using his cum as additional lube before he shoved deep to cum. The heat of their cum quickly melted into your own, their cocks pumping a few more times, cum smearing between them before slowly leaking out of you. Some of it stuck to your skin as they pulled out. Danny pulled out of your mouth, your body empty as it shook. Billy pushed you off him, sliding out from underneath you while Stu and Danny traded places; not a moment to catch your breath before Danny was gathering his friends' cum onto his cock before shoving into you, thrusting quickly and harshly, making you cry out. Your puffy walls tightened on him, only making him thrust harder, ramming his dick more snugly against your cervix with each inward thrust. A soreness began to form in the pit of your stomach with each direct hit. Loud, whorish moans flooded the room, drool covered your chin and cheeks, your hair sticking to your sweaty forehead and neck. Your moans didn't live aloud for long, not with Stu grabbing your head and tapping his wet cock against your lips, prompting you to clean him off. You obliged happily, bobbing your head a few times before you were being pried away to clean off Billy.
"I think it's time to begin the next act," Danny huffed out, his hands gripping your hips impossibly tight, fingertips digging into your flesh in hopes you bruise, "get 'er all nice and comfy while I fuck her." You could feel each rung on his Jacob's Ladder rubbing into your walls, occasionally snagging against your entrance, making you moan hotly; you were too focused on how the dick inside of you felt, you weren't paying attention to the other two as they produced a blindfold, some handcuffs and a collar. Stu pushed you up by your shoulders, just enough that your cunt squeezed around Danny's cock, making both of you moan in unison, and Billy was quick in pulling your arms back, cuffing your hands together before securing the collar around your neck; he latched the chain ends to their respective anchors, the metal cool whenever it grazed your spine, making you gasp. A blindfold was fitted over your eyes next before you were dropped back onto the bed, your back arching off the mattress to flee from the chilling chain, and to ease the weight on your bound hands. A few more brutal, deep thrusts before you were empty again, a helpless whine sounding from your lips.
"H-Hey--" You tried pathetically, only to find yourself being flipped onto your stomach. Danny guided you onto your knees, and the bed dipped as he added his weight, his cock finding home within you immediately. This angle was more diabolical; his piercings rubbed against your g-spot viciously with each thrust, easily and quickly driving you to your second orgasm. Your legs shook, your teeth gritting before your mouth fell open with a high pitched moan, some fluid rushing down your inner thighs as it soaked your bedsheets. Another whimper fell from your lips, pleading words danced on your tongue: I need a second, is what you wanted to say, but a hand in your hair melted the words into a gasp, and a cock being shoved down your throat pushed any plea back into your lungs. Tears began to soak the blindfold as overstimulation flooded your senses, numbing your fingers and warming the base of your head. Danny's leather hand collided with your ass cheek harshly again and again, hitting the same spot as he abused your cervix and g-spot repeatedly. You felt a little dizzy now as your basic senses were overwhelmed, unaware of the lewd, gargling gasps you emitted as Stu thrusted into your throat, his hands gripping your hair tightly, his own piercing gliding against your uvula.
You caught a flash of light through your mask, your brows knitting slightly. What was that? It happened again, and again, on the fourth flash, you heard the sound of a camera shutter. Pictures. You were being photographed.
"Get their good angle, Billy." Stu commented, manipulating your head slightly so you were looking more upward, and your throat constricted around his dick with each thrust. Another flash. Drool pooled down your chin and neck, dripping onto your bouncing breasts a little. Your cheeks flushed a bright red as your mind wandered to the three of them staring at the photos and jerking themselves off. And a part of you wished they would do it in front of you, using you as their place to cum on. What a depraved thought...
Another moment and you felt something slide along your ass, leather spreading your cheeks as a wetness coated your hole. It wasn't thick like lube. Spit? You didn't have time to mull over it as a finger rubbed your asshole, smearing the spit around before penetrating you. Your back arched towards the bed as a moan reverberated through your chest, the finger circling your insides before starting to pump in and out at the same speed as Danny's thrusts.
"Fuck, you're gonna feel so fucking good around my dick, slut," you heard Billy hiss, the sound of him spitting another glob of saliva onto your asshole filled your ears followed by a second finger, "you want that, huh? You're so ready for it."
"Wanna use my cum as lube?" Danny inquired, tilting his head towards Billy as he kept his thrusts an even pace. You clenched around him, whimpering against Stu's dick, the man patting your head with a wicked grin on his lips.
"Fuck yeah I do. You close?"
Danny nodded in response, leaning over your body a little more as he thrusted more wildly, faint grunts escaping him. Soon he was pulling out and jerking himself to completion, his cum coating Billy's fingers and your hole. And, fuck, was it a lot, "Enjoy." He growled before stuffing himself back inside your pussy, picking up his thrusts in kind. He tugged your hips a little as he thrusted, watching as Billy pushed his cum into your ass before removing his fingers entirely. More weight dipped the bed under your knees, and the blunt head of a penis rubbed against your asshole, making you shudder.
"Relax and you'll be fine." Billy spoke as he slowly pushed his hips towards you, the man groaning loudly in his throat as your ass pulsed around his dick, easing himself further and further until he was flush against you. He released a shuddering breath, carefully pulling halfway out before thrusting in completely. Curses fell from his lips as he picked up the pace, Danny's cum making it easy for him to glide in and back out again; his hand grabbed your shoulder, the other your waist, keeping you steady as he and Danny thrusted at different tempos. Billy's hips slammed against your ass, jolting you forward, forcing Stu's cock down your throat and you could feel that he was just as deep as Danny this way. More drool clung to your chin, dripping in thick strings before landing onto your sheets.
All three men thrusted differently, with Stu occasionally shoving into your throat and grinding against your face before he went back to fucking your mouth, but every movement served to push you closer to that edge again, the hot coil in your stomach winding tightly. Billy hissed at feeling your ass squeeze him while Danny was muttering words of encouragement to you, "C'mon, doll, cum for us again, you know you want to. Be a good girl and cum," and as your walls pulsed violently around his cock, he moaned out, thrusting harder, "that's it, just like that. Ohh, you're such a good girl for us, baby, cumming on our cocks... squeezing us like you can't get enough." You attempted to babble something, earning you a chuckle from Danny. They weren't far behind you this time, all three of their thrusts stuttered before they shoved almost impossibly deep into your body, filling your holes with hot cum. Stu's was oddly sweet as it coated your tongue, your throat, and your brain couldn't decipher the difference between Billy's and Danny's.
"Ah, ah~ Don't swallow just yet, baby. We gotta take your glamour shots still." The tallest man cooed as he pulled from your mouth, using his dick to smear cum against your lips before he parted from you, fetching the camera that was being used earlier. Billy grabbed your hair to yank your head back. You didn't need to be instructed on keeping your mouth open. Flashes happened in quick succession of each other before your head was dropped, and you gulped down the salty-sweet fluid. You panted heavily against the wet sheets, flinching slightly as Billy pulled out and silently excused himself to go clean up.
"Come take pictures of her from back here, Stu," Danny pulled out, watching as cum oozed out of your ass and pussy, collecting on your labia before dripping off, "kinda like a before the makeup shot, right?" You could hear the grin on his face as he spoke, his hands spreading your cheeks. More camera shutter clicks in rapid succession. You were welcoming the reprieve, despite being the subject of three perverts' fantasy. It was nice to have a break, a moment to think properly and clearly, even though their cum was being smeared against your thighs and cheeks with their rough gloves.
"Hope you had a good rest, dollface, 'cause we're on to act three now." You shuddered and whimpered, turning your head to the side as if you were trying to peek over your shoulder towards his voice, only to be met with darkness. Damn blindfold. Once more, your body was manipulated, a set of hands pushing you up by the shoulders while another spread your legs a bit further apart. Your chest found itself against a broader chest, your nipples against the fabric of Billy's cloak was making you shiver, goosebumps pinching your flesh at the sensation. Danny grabbed your hips again, rubbing his cock between your folds, releasing excited breaths as he smeared all of your collective mess onto his dick before he pushed into you. Billy wasn't interested in wasting anymore time either, the man rubbing the head against your clit before he pushed into your pussy alongside Danny, the man gripping your waist tightly as he hissed and softly moaned.
"Fucking-- shit, Danny, you just have to have those fucking things."
The man grinned widely, showing his teeth, "What can I say, I aim to please~" You could only assume Billy was the one now at the utter mercy of Danny's piercings.
"Make room for ya buddy~ Don't go hoggin' the space," Stu's weight was added to the bed again, though now around your knees. Your heart began to beat harshly again, and you squirmed slightly, making the two men inside of you groan and dig their fingertips into your skin, "aw, baby, it's okay. It'll feel really good, I promise. Billy already got you ready for me and everything!" He spoke in a lighter tone as he rubbed his pierced cockhead against your asshole, circling it to smear the cum around before he pushed in. Just as he was pushing deeper, you felt the other two push inside you more, as if trying to accommodate for the fact Stu was now joining. A loud moan rolled off your tongue, your fingers curling into your palms before flexing outward. Your muscles spasmed around Stu as he bottomed out, the man pressing a hand to the back of your head while his other squeezed the top of your ass cheek. He was as thick as Billy, but longer. Why did all three of them have to have bigger than average cocks? That didn't seem fair. Not like they'd let you voice anything like that, as the trip began to thrust, once more being opposite of each other. Occasionally you would feel Stu and one of the other two thrust in at the same time, but it seemed like they coordinated otherwise. They wanted you to feel each individual cock as it slammed into you, and it wasn't long before you were crying out, tears flooding down your cheeks despite the fabric tied around your head.
"That's it, baby. Let it out, let your neighbors know how much a dirty cumslut you are." Their voices were melting together for you, your head too hot and fuzzy to distinguish between them right now as filth flowed from their lips.
"Filthy little bitch. Fuck, I bet your cunt needed this, huh?" Your hair was pulled, your head lifting up from hanging over Billy's shoulder, a gloved hand smacking your wet cheek, your holes tightening for a moment, making the three killers moan and thrust harder, quicker, "You're gonna be so fucking full of our cum by the time we're finished with you. The Ghostfaces' personal cumdump. Maybe we'll visit you every night, yeah? You want that?" You didn't register that as a question, simply focusing on how the cocks inside of you felt, how your stomach tightened up again, and your pleasured noises were melting together into nonsense. Billy smacked you again, stinging your cheek a deep red, "I asked you a fucking question, bitch, now answer."
"Y-Yes," you whimpered out, practically sobbing out the rest, "I want--hnnuuh--I wanna be visited ev-every night. Please, please, pleasepleasepleaseplease." Your pleas jumbled together as yet another orgasm was pulled from you, making your partners moan loudly in unison as your body tightened up on them all, pulsing and squeezing rhythmically. Just like before, though, they kept thrusting, overriding your need to catch your breath with their need to reduce you to a pathetic mess. They wanted to sear tonight into your memory, burn the feeling of their heavy cocks into your insides so no one could ever compare to them. They wanted you to crave them, and only them. They wanted to ruin you. You were going to lie awake at night, masturbating and imagining you had the Ghostface killers inside you instead, and you wouldn't be able to cum the same without them. All orgasms would feel stale, boring, meaningless. Danny, Stu and Billy would be your only salvation for a blissful night, and decent sleep. How could you ever find one singular person to be on par with the three of them? There was no way you could.
"Oh, listen to you, dollface. Those noises you're making," Danny sounded completely obsessed with you now, "they're just for us to hear, you understand? We'll know if you decide to let someone else pleasure you. Oh, what am I even saying? You won't seek someone out after this. You'll be a good girl and wait for us, won't you? I know you will, so no need to answer." On the tail-end of his sentence, his rambling even, he had pulled his knife out, carefully dragging the blade up the side of your thigh. Just as you cried out again, he sank the sharp metal into your thigh, cutting a small slice. He shakily exhaled, tossing the knife to the side as he watched blood flow down your skin, eager fingers reaching to smear the fluid onto your skin and his gloves before he prodded his fingers against the wound. He pushed two fingers into it, generating a howl from you, making your whole body shake and all the air in your lungs to be expelled at once. His fingers wiggled slightly, his hips continuously slamming against you. More blood spilled from the wound as he fingered it, staining your sheets a bright red; the liquid pooled behind your knee before dripping off your calf.
It wasn't long before Stu grabbed your bound wrists and pulled you up a little off Billy, the man underneath you wasting not a single second to suck on your tender nipples, eliciting another moan from your mouth. Teeth sank into the perked flesh, sending white hot bolts of lightning down your spine, making your legs twitch as the pleasure settled in your clit; he sucked and tugged on your flesh, giving each breast attention as he growled and grunted. Stu had leaned down over you to sink his teeth into your shoulder, tightening his jaw enough so he pierced skin before his tongue lapped over the wound and he moaned, trailing his lips to suck deep bruises into your shoulders and the back of your neck. Your body was extremely sensitive after so many orgasms, making it almost too damn easy for the three men to lull another one from your belly. You squirt on Billy's stomach and hips, sobbing out a cry of ecstasy as you climaxed. Stu's hand abandoned your wrists, quickly wrapping around your throat and squeezing the leather collar into your tender flesh. Your mouth hung open as he pressed his fingers just right, constricting your vessels and making your head foggy. Breaths caught in your chest, dying in your throat as he held you like this, unrelenting in his powerful thrusts into your ass. He let go after a few seconds, reveling in how you gasped and sucked in large breaths, followed by whorish moans.
"You sound so pretty, baby. I wish we were recording. Oh well. Always next time, right~?" Stu hummed into your ear, giggling softly before he bit the cartilage, tugging on it slightly.
"Sick pervert." Billy responded.
"You're one to talk, Billy~ You enjoy capturing the moment just as much as I do, don't lie~"
Danny's fingers withdrew from your cut, bringing them up to his lips, his tongue lapping up your blood. His eyelashes fluttered, "Fuck, doll, you taste so delicious." He thrusted urgently into you, soon chasing his release as he shoved as deep as he could, his cock pulsing and throbbing as he released his cum into your pussy, coating Billy's cock and your insides. The man huffed out a breath, thrusting lazily, but deeply, a few more times before he pulled out, immediately grabbing the camera and snapping more photos of you. You whimpered. If all of this is to be expected if they ever visit you again, you're gonna feel spoiled. No one has been able to make you cum so much. Sometimes you barely got to cum at all with someone!
Billy and Stu were close, each man occupying a shoulder as they bit and sucked at your skin, their thrusts syncing as they chased their orgasms now. More cum shot inside of you, Stu's cock throbbing in your ass more noticeable, as each pulse of cum thickened his cock slightly, stretching your hole further. After riding out their orgasms, they pulled out of you, Billy tossing you onto your back once Stu was stepped back. The three man admired your trembling form, watching as you writhed from the overstimulation, spreading your legs before closing them, rocking your hips upward, turning your head from side to side. You listened as they shuffled around your room, finding Stu near your head, the man petting your hair soothingly while Billy settled between your legs, kneeling on the floor. He pressed his tongue flat against your messy cunt while Danny held both your ankles to keep your legs spread. He licked up the entire length, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking for a moment, making you moan out, your arms jerking slightly against the restraints, desperate to bury your hands into his hair and keep him pressed to your sex. You could feel him smirk against your wet skin before he lapped another stripe. Then another, swallowing the cum that collected into his mouth, pressing a final kiss to your swollen clit before he pulled away. He and Danny swapped, Danny wasting no time in shoving his tongue inside of your entrance, curling the muscle so he could suck the cum from you, gathering a generous amount into his mouth before he stood up, sitting on his knees between your legs as he leaned down to kiss you, grasping your jaw firmly, squeezing the edges so you open your lips. Cum flooded into your mouth as his tongue massaged yours, coating your inner cheeks with semen. You moaned into his mouth, eager to return his affection as you tasted the salty mixture of cum.
"We'll be seeing you around, princess. Make sure you don't forget about us." He whispered against your lips, kissing you fleetingly. He stood on the floor again, pulling his pants and boxers up. The other killers followed his lead, leaving you with your legs drooped open, cum leaking out of your holes and soiling your bed further. You didn't want to change the sheets, you just wanted a nap after all of this, honestly. One of the Ghostface turned you over, undoing the handcuffs and collar, the three watching as you curled up on your side, rubbing your thighs together.
Another flash, barely visible beyond your blindfold. "I think we used up all our film, fellas." You could hear the pout in Stu's voice, and you imagined his shoulders slumping cartoonishly in disappointment.
"Don't worry, Stu, we'll bring more next time." Danny spoke as he peeled your blindfold off, your watery eyes hazily looking up at each of their masks before you relaxed on your bed, shutting your eyes. He chuckled, petting your hair once before the three of them took their leave, not before Stu smacked your ass playfully, groping the flesh.
cw: protective!ghost, allusions to civilian!reader being (physically) assaulted at work (18+)
"l-lieutenant?"
ghost is nearly startled by the little voice that practically squeaks behind him. he's been huddled in his office for too long, driving himself mad with paperwork and sergeants too stupid for their own good. he blinks, turning around, and he blinks when he sees you there in the doorway, hands shaking as you try and collect yourself.
when he looks carefully under the fluorescent lights, he can see there are tears in your eyes. it's then that he notices how you look, really look. there's a bruise blossoming on your jaw, the skin swelling a bit where there's a cut on your lip. your shirt is askew, and you're panting and sweating, like you've been running. he's never seen you this way. fuck, he barely sees you at all, except when he goes out during drills, and he's only ever spoken to you once or twice, just to receive some papers or to excuse himself as he tries to get around you in a crowded hallway. you are always quiet, always shy, smiling at him if you are near and trying to keep out of the way.
he doesn't know why it enrages him to see you in this state, but it does.
"the fuck happened t'ya?" he rasps, and he realizes it comes out harsher than he means. he isn't used to being nice.
the slamming of a door against a wall keeps you from answering. just like that, you're moving, about to scramble away, run, when ghost reaches out and grabs your wrist. he tugs you towards him, just quick enough that whoever is coming for you skids into the doorway.
it's a sergeant he recognizes. cocky, full of shit, who never hits his target. he's big, but not as big as ghost. he pauses when he realizes where you are and who you're with, skidding backwards as he tries to contain his anger.
"wot the fuck is goin' on?" ghost snaps, and you sputter, not able to make out your words properly.
"'m sorry, lieutenant," the sergeant huffs. "i'll take care of this."
when he lunges for you, ghost shoves you behind him, tilting his head to the side as he stares down at the little shit.
"did i fuckin' tell ya t'move?" ghost growls. "this how ya answer ta y'r superior, you fuckin' knob?"
"no," he spits back, but his eyes flash when ghost puts a gloved hand against his chest and pushes him back far enough to put appropriate distance between them.
"did y'hit this civilian?" ghost asks, a humorless laugh leaving him. when the sergeant doesn't respond, ghost turns finally, looking at you, and he clicks his tongue to get your eyes on him. "did he put his hands on ya?"
you tremble a little, moving the back of your hand over your eyes before nodding. you don't really register what happens next. you see blood on the tips of your kitten heels one moment, and you cover your eyes the next.
in the bathroom later that evening, ghost is careful as he dabs at your lip gently with a cool cloth. he has taken the gloves off (they were soaked with blood), and you try not to shiver as he holds your face with one big hand and cleans you up with the other. you can see the shadow of tattoos peeking out from under his sleeve.
"why'd y'come t'me?" he asks after a few minutes. you blink up at him, swallowing hard, and he stands back a little to get a better look at you.
"i've read your file," you whisper, looking down, a bit ashamed. "i just thought...you'd understand."
or maybe you wondered what he would do if he found out.
he hums a little, and you miss the feeling of his touch as soon as he lets go of you, washing his hands at the sink. you fixate on his stature, his size. the thick of his thighs, how the holsters there bulge and stretch to try and hold onto him.
just as he starts to leave, you stand from your seat, making your way to him. he hears you, stopping, and you hold onto his bicep gently as you get on your toes to kiss his cheek. he flinches a little, but he relaxes finally, leaning in for you to kiss him there again. when your eyes meet again, you think you see something there.
he kicks the door closed with his boot, trapping you in the room with him. you smile when the lock clicks.
sometimes, simon feels like he doesn't belong here. (18+, f!reader, a continuation of this but can be read standalone)
the mornings are rushed, and he doesn't see them very often. when he's on leave, you let him sleep in, so when he does finally wake up, the baby is usually having tummy time, and joe is already at school.
today, simon gets up with you. he wants to help⏤he wants to be useful.
joe's morning screams are just as powerful as his nighttime ones. simon is knelt down on one knee in front of him, his little foot propped on his thigh. he screams at simon for the fifth time that he hasn't tied his shoe right⏤that you're ruining it, only mummy knows how, stop it, stop it, stop it!
he's half-dressed, blonde curls a mess, and simon is slumped there, no reaction, internalizing how useless he is as he hears you rustling downstairs as you try to get breakfast off the stove and the baby to stop crying.
simon tries to swap joe's shoes with ones that are velcro, but that causes more hysterics.
those aren't the ones, it's not right! it's not right!
"something wrong?"
your voice is soft and gentle in the morning. you look visibly flustered—your hair is falling out of the style you had thrown it into when you woke up, and the hair around your face sticks to you with sweat. the baby is on your hip, little eyes watery and red as she tugs and pulls on your shirt to get your attention. simon clears his throat, shaking his head.
"'s fine, i got it—"
"my shoes! my shoes! my shoes!"
simon doesn't have time to explain himself as you shove the baby into his arms and kneel down in front of joe. you immediately cup his chubby cheeks and stroke them gently, wiping the tears away as you shush him. you sweep a hand under the bed before you produce his favorite blue shoes.
simon watches as you tie them as he tucks the baby girl into the crook of his arm. she settles there perfectly; her little body contorts to the fat and muscle there in the space between his forearm and chest, and when she sticks her little thumb in her mouth, her eyes already begin to flutter closed. she hiccups and stops crying, and the quiet that comes over the room immediately soothes both you and joe.
"can daddy take you to school, joe?"
"i want you to take me."
you sigh, running a hand over your face. you stand up on wobbly legs as joe waddles towards his backpack, and you look over your shoulder at simon as he steps back awkwardly to give you space.
"can you stay here with her? shouldn't be more than an hour."
simon just nods. he adjusts the fabric of his mask, his shoulders finally relaxing, and you contain the wobble of your bottom lip before disappearing back downstairs to finish making joe's lunch.
the insecurity that bleeds into simon's bones aches. simon watches from the kitchen window as you buckle joe into the backseat of your car and back out with a tired wave.
the baby is sleeping when the sound of your tires gets farther and farther away. she's settled against his warm chest, sucking on her thumb still, breathing softly in the safest place in the world. he settles on the couch with her, adjusting his grip so that he can lift his finger and trace her perfect nose with it and watch her carefully.
she's so beautiful. his eyes, your hair texture. his cheeks, your nose. she's perfection, and simon is content knowing that she's only inherited the good parts of himself and none of the terrible. he knows it is because you made her; all that time in your pretty belly means she only could come out as nothing but pure goodness and innocence.
when you come home, simon is still in the same place, watching the baby sleep. you drop your purse by the door and slump down onto one of the chairs at the table, and you stare too long at your hands that simon knows that something is wrong.
"i'm...sorry," simon mutters. "'bout this morning. don't know wot i'm doin'."
you shake your head.
"not your fault," you whisper. "he's in that...phase. last week, he wouldn't let me put any jeans on him, said they all felt funny. today, it was shoes. next week, it'll be something else." you seem to remember yourself, and you stand up to cross into the living room, gesturing to the baby. "i-i can take her now. thanks for watching her."
simon shakes his head slightly.
"oi—" he frowns under the mask, and with his free hand, he points to the spot next to him. you shuffle close before taking a seat beside him, and you squeak a little when grips you by the back of the neck and forces your forehead against his. "don't need ta thank me for lookin' after my own. they're mine, too, luv, y'hear me?" he shakes his head. "'s not a favor. 's my job."
"i-i know—"
"do you understand me, luv?" simon asks, firmer this time. you meet his eyes, eyes watery, and you nod. "say it."
"don't thank you for doing what you're supposed to be doing. i-i got it."
"thatta girl."
simon holds you in his lap when she wakes up hungry. your back against his chest, top pulled down, tits out as your baby feeds gently. his masked nose traces slow lines up and down the side of your neck, and he squeezes your soft middle as your baby hiccups and suckles from you.
"look at ya," simon hums, nose at your jaw. "there'll never be a better mum in this entire world besides you, swee'eart."
when you come down from putting her to sleep in her bedroom, simon appreciates the view. your shirt is still down, your breasts slick and nipples pebbled, and simon licks over his teeth under the mask as he tents his sweats almost immediately.
"fuckin' hell," simon mutters, and you move to pull your shirt back into place when you notice his hand slip under the waistband and let his cock slip out just enough.
you know simon "ghost"riley as a munch. a hungry, nasty bastard. he doesn't care where his next meal comes from, as long as it's some part of you, and with simon as your husband, he has lots of choices.
you caress the back of his neck as his lips wrap around your nipple. you're leaking, tender breasts sore from frequent feedings and pumping, and simon's tongue soft and gentle against the skin makes your entire body shake.
simon could eat you from anywhere, and you'd be wet and waiting. your pussy soaks your panties. your mouth is filled with drool. there's sweat gathering at the base of your spine even, he could lick you anywhere, and there would be something for him to taste.
you close your eyes when you hear the gentle shlick, shlick, shlick of his hand around his cock. he's always so wet, too, always leaking everywhere and ruining his boxers with globs of precum that you always want on your tongue instead. simon and his big dick—when you first saw him naked, you thought he'd be big and stupid because surely he couldn't be the whole package, but fuck.
simon is so good at everything. a perfect soldier. a loving father. a doting husband. an incredible fuck. simon has always defied your expectations in the best way, and you're reminded of this when you smear his tip across the palm of your hand and lick up something thick and heady with a whine.
he lays you on your back once he has your nipples soft and dripping with his saliva. your cheek is smushed against the cushions as he slips your sweats off, and your knees fall open as he tears a hole into the gusset of your panties and dips his head to tongue at your cunt.
your thighs close around his head. your arms stretch up above your head, and you whimper as simon secures your legs over his shoulders and eats wet and slow. you haven't shaved yet still, tired and preoccupied with your babies, and it makes you leak even more onto his tongue when he uses his thumbs to push the hood back over your clit to get better access.
what a man. simon worships your pussy because it gave him heaven over hell. he found redemption in it. a second chance. life is discovered and made here, right between your thighs, and you reach down with both hands and scratch along the back of his head as he slides his tongue inside of you and swallows the mouthful of slick that he's rewarded with.
"simon..." you mumble, eyes watery. your back arches, and you grind up into his mouth, and he hums with relief as he opens his mouth and spits on your clit. "simon...i-i..."
"y'r so beautiful," he murmurs. "my pretty girl, look at you—" simon groans as he uses his thumbs to spread your folds, pushing the pubic hair out of view so he could admire your cunt. "wants my cock, doesn't she?"
"a-always," you whimper, hiccuping. you scramble to touch his chest, feeling over his pecs before digging your nails in and letting your mouth open to kiss him hotly. you lift your hands to push his mask up a little more, revealing more scar tissue, and you squeal with surprise when he flips you over onto your stomach and hikes you up by your hips. your legs kick a little as you scramble to get up onto your knees, but you sink back into the cushions when he taps his cock against your folds as a warning before sliding in until his hips are flush against your ass.
"oh, love," simon mutters. he secures a hand on your opposite hip, using it for leverage to fuck you back onto his cock at a steady, slow pace. you groan with relief, stretching your arms out in front of you, and he almost calls you a pretty kitty until your pussy clenching catches his voice with a moan. jesus fucking christ, simon has known you for years, and it always feels so good. he always feels like he's one wrong move from coming too fast inside of you, always feels too close to another plane of existence when he's got his cock in you. from that first night with you to your wedding night to now, he never gets used to how soft and warm and tight you can be. it's always been this good. it's always been not enough. it's always been everything he's ever wanted, and it's always making him feel like a lesser man when realizes he won't last because you're too fucking pretty, bloody hell—
you're barely lucid as you lay there. you're on your back again, thighs trembling, knees bend as simon hunches over your cunt and continues to eat. he doesn't like to leave messes behind, and all you can do is cry from overstimulation as he keeps his tongue moving and his voice low.
when you kiss, it tastes strange. it's so odd to taste yourself in his mouth, but at the same time, you feel your libido kick in all over again, fueled by the way simon never seems to get enough of you. you think you'd go again probably, you think you'd toss your leg over him and ride him all lazy and hot, but the baby monitor crackles, and you hear your little girl whimpering on the other end of it.
simon pulls away from you with a thick string of saliva lingering between your mouths. he licks his lips to break it, wiping his face with the back of his hand before pulling the mask back down.
he gets up with a grunt, shrugging his sweats back up, and your eyes flutter shut as you watch him make his way upstairs where your daughter whines.
simon's only been home on leave for a week, and you can't keep your hands off of him. you're going to lose your mind.
no...i won't. i'm just gonna fuck him again.
when you come through the door later that afternoon, joe is in hysterics. as you got closer and closer to home, he got increasingly more agitated, wailing in the backseat of the car and begging you for home, home, home.
joe is running once the door is open. simon is in the living room, lounging with the television on, the baby cradled in one arm as she sucks down a bottle eagerly. simon looks fondly at the sight, a brow raising as he watches his son going as fast as his little legs will take him. joe flings himself onto the couch, climbing up with that face full of tears, and simon opens his free arm just fast enough to catch your son as he buries himself in simon's chest.
you shut the door behind you and lock it, and as you hang your bag up, you watch with sparkly eyes as simon cradles his son against his side and closes his eyes as they hug. your son isn't used to simon being home so much, and you realize now, that's why he's been throwing these fits. he loves having his father home so much, he doesn't know how to handle his big feelings. feeling overwhelmed, excited, frustrated, eager—he just wants his father, that's all his tantrums have ever been about. he misses simon.
you miss him, too.
it takes a little more effort to kick your shoes off, and you bite your lip as you stare down at your toes, wiggling them as you realize your feet are starting to swell a little. that tell-tale sign. that tickle in your lower belly.
you look up again, and simon is staring at you, all lidded and warm. you smile, face hot, because simon will never not be the most attractive man in any room you're in. he looks even better right now, both of your babies cradled in those big arms of his.
hmm. well. there's definitely room there for another.
simon knows something is wrong as soon as he comes home. (a little 18+, f!reader)
you're sitting on the floor of the living room. there's acrylic paint in your hair, and you're crying, eyes red and puffy cheeks wet. you're sitting around a floor of strewn about toddler toys, and you're rubbing your chest in the way that simon knows means your breasts are sore.
he shuts the door behind himself. there's dishes piled up in the sink. he smells something that's burnt. the kitchen table is littered with remnants still from breakfast, and there's clean laundry still piled up in the basket, forgotten next to the couch.
"wot the fuck is happenin'?"
you jump a little when you hear his voice, as if it's the first time you've noticed something in your house is different. you want to smile at him, but it falls short. simon kicks his boots off, hanging his jacket up, and he lets out a deep breath as he kneels down in front of you.
"hey, baby," he murmurs. you sniffle, wiping your face, and simon cups your cheeks to make you look at him. "wot happened?"
"he hates me," you whisper. "h-he hates me, simon, h-he said it."
"who hates ya, swee'eart?"
"joe," you whine. "i told him...i told him you wouldn't be here for supper, and he..." you start to cry. "he said he hates me. he wants you, he only wants you. he hates me..."
simon sucks on his teeth under the mask, shaking his head.
"mm...and where's our sweet girl then?"
"s-sleeping."
"havin' a nap?" he kisses you softly. "olright. time to pump, huh, love?" he cups under your breast tenderly, rubbing over your sore nipple. you sigh, nodding, and he nudges his nose against yours. "olright. you 'ave a go. take a nice bath. have somethin' ta eat."
you collapse against his chest in a fit of soft tears. he wraps an arm around your shoulders, holding you close, and he rubs your back gently.
"we'll 'ave a chat," simon murmurs. "sort this out."
"i-i'm sorry, simon."
"no need ta be sorry, baby. i've got it."
"i...i wanted to have it, too. i wanted..."
simon rubs a thumb over your face gently.
"you do, baby. you've got it. i know you do. there now, that's a girl..."
it takes a few minutes to get you to go into your shared bedroom. when he sees you relaxed as you get your breast bump, he makes his way down the hall, to where your son's bedroom door is just ajar.
when he pushes it open, it creaks. simon sighs as he sees your little boy sitting on the carpet, playing with his trains. he's quiet, which is unusual; when he comes home, normally his son is bounding towards him, jumping up and down, so happy and excited to see his father. now, he looks shy, and he won't acknowledge him.
"oi," simon murmurs gently. "that a way to greet me, lad?"
his son just shrugs. he looks up at him, the picture of shame, and simon closes the door behind him as he takes a seat on the little bed. it creaks under his great weight, but it holds up. simon looks positively funny—he takes up most of the bed, and he has to hunch over to get closer to his son.
"i missed you very much. been gone awhile, haven't i?"
his son just shrugs again.
"'n i come home, and i see y'r mum covered in rubbish, very upset. would y'like ta tell me wot tha's about? huh, joe?"
his son, predictably, just shrugs.
"y'r mum thinks y'hate her," simon continues. "tha' true?"
shrug.
"oi," simon's voice hardens, but it's still gentle. "i'm havin' a conversation with you, lad. i'd like it very much if y'gave me y'r attention."
joe finally stops touching his trains. he sniffles, looking up at simon, and simon tilts his head to the side. when they meet eyes, simon tries to be less intimidating. he wants his son to know he's done something wrong, but he doesn't want to scare him.
"y'r mum thinks you hate her. tha' true?" he asks again. when joe shakes his head, simon narrows his eyes. "then why'd ya say it?"
"wanted a lolly."
"uh huh. but mummy said it was supper time, didn't she?"
"yeah."
"so you hate her?"
"no."
"then why'd ya say it?"
"i dunno," joe shrugs. he frowns a little, thinking, and simon is satisfied with this reaction. punishing joe never works; taking away his toys, his coloring books, playtime, it never works. joe is like you—too smart for his own good. he learns when he's confronted with the truth. "i wanted..."
"ya wanted to hurt her," simon finishes. "like you think she hurt you."
joe turns back to his trains. simon sits up, taking a deep breath.
"one day," simon murmurs, "y'r gonna love someone the way i love y'r mummy."
"i am?" joe is interested. he turns his head a little, blinking up at his dad, and simon just nods. realistic. honest.
"right," simon tells him. "y'r gonna love them 'n y'r gonna wanna protect them, like i want to protect y'r mum. you can't stop everyone from hurtin' them, but i would hope that at least it...wouldn't be family. tha's y'r mum, mate. i remember when y'were the size of a tiny bean, inside of her tummy, yeah? she was so happy. 'n when y'were born, she cried so much. said y'were the most wonderful thing, said she would love you more than anythin', more than me." simon chuckles. "was a bit jealous of ya for a bit, won't lie. 'n she does. loves you with all of herself. tells me all the time."
"she does?" joe's eyes are big and bright now. he feels bad. he's sad.
"tha's right," simon mutters. "'n when i'm gone, i'm not here to protect y'r mum, so i thought you'd be a big help, but here we are, joe. 'n y'r mine, mate, all mine, but y'r mum is special to me, y'hear tha'? she's my special girl. my special girl tha' loves you more than herself, so i need you to go tell her y'r sorry, and i need you to mean it."
joe stands up onto his little legs, and simon watches as he toddles over to simon. simon scoops him up into a big hug, and joe wraps his arms around his neck and buries his face into his shoulder.
"i'm sorry," joe whimpers, and simon rubs his little head gently. "i-i don't hate her, i-i got...m-mad..."
"tha's olright," simon whispers. "you can get mad. but ya can't hurt y'r mum. she does oll the heavy liftin' when 'm gone, and...can't do tha'. won't 'ave it."
"i-i won't. i-i won't anymore—"
"good lad..."
when it's quiet in the house, and the babies are sleeping, simon is rubbing lotion into your hands gently. you're tired from feeding the baby, and you're tired from scrubbing the paint out of your hair, but now simon is home, and he's here, and your son sobbed in your arms blubbering about how much he loves you, how he's sorry.
"you come home, and everything..." you sniffle, "everything just gets better again. i-i...why am i so bad at this, simon?"
"you're not bad," simon tells you. "i'm the bastard, baby. the one leavin' ya here...all alone..." he sighs. he pushes your hair out of your face, thumbing at your cheek. "work so hard, love. make my life so easy."
"easy?" your eyes water. you reach up and clutch his forearm, leaning into him. "what you do is so hard, simon. a-and...and so scary."
simon shakes his head, meeting your eyes. you look tired. you look beautiful, but you look tired, and he feels it—he knew one day he would feel it, but he didn't realize that day would come so soon. it's time. it's time for him to come home. it's time to put the papers in, to stomach the desk job, to bite the bullet, because he won't leave you and come back like this. not again. he can't do it. not to you.
"my pretty girl," simon mutters. he licks over his teeth, moving his hand lower to cup your jaw in a big palm. you arch up to meet him, fisting his shirt, and you open your mouth as he bends to kiss you. his tongue is hot against yours; he devours you from the inside out, kissing you wet and eager. you whimper softly, sinking into him, and he smiles into the kiss when he feels you nearly liquefy underneath him. "open, swee'eart."
you do. you let your jaw hinge and mouth fall open, and you accept his fingers easily. you tongue at the pads of his fingers, closing your mouth around them and sucking softly. when he removes them, he slips them under the shirt you wear, where he finds you soft and warm and wet between the thighs. he tucks his fingers under the gusset of your panties, and he feels all the blood swell into his cock when he has to feel between a nearly full bush to find your puffy clit.
"didn't want to touch it while you were gone," you whisper.
"yeah?" simon smirks, slipping two fingers inside of you. his thumb keeps its place on your clit, and your toes curl as you leak onto his palm. "why's tha', love?"
He couldn't really tell you the last time he was touched kindly. Well before the military, yes, and well before Ma stopped smiling. Touch has always, always been hurtful if it were ever there at all. Most days, nobody touched ghost. He has a reputation, big deadly soldier who sends recruits to the medbay after a skirmish on the mats. People dont touch him.
Then you come along.
You, with your easy acceptance and thoughtless touches. You smile at ghost when you have to hand reports to your lieutenant. You sit across from him at the crowded mess hall and don't flinch when your boots skim together. It's agony.
It's agony, and ghost has no idea how to deal with it. Each fleeting pass of your presence against his own has ghost freezing, has him locking up and trying to remember how to breathe. He will feel your fingertips brush his while handing over a knife, and he will wonder what they feel like at the base of his neck. You will pat ghost on the bicep in casual passing, and he will be struck with visions of that same firm palm over his thighs.
It's...embarrassing. he feels like a fucking schoolboy with the way your touch ingites him. That, or a weird pervert for getting so excited over a pretty thing. On more than one occasion Ghost has had to fight off a hard-on or duck into a bathroom after you simply placed a hand on him to scoot around his mass.
Its so much worse at night, in his own bed.
Plagued by visions of your soft lips and warm hands. He can't help himself, pulling down his sweats and boxers to free his leaking cock. It's been half-hard all day since you tucked right against his side to let someone pass in the hallways.
He wraps his hand around it, using the honestly embarrassing amount of precum as lube. Thick, calloused hand slowly working up and down his cock.
Ghost tries to imagine your hands in his place. Calloused too, but so gentle. Would you take your time? Explore each ridge and vein? Thumb at his slit? The image of you teasing his slit has ghost whining, replicating it with his own hand.
He allows himself to get lost in you, closes his eyes and imagines your touch.
Warm hands pushing and soothing over his muscles, his soft belly, and pert nipples. Pinching and pulling before dipping back down to push at his legs. You, sat between them so you can feel all over his dick. The heavy weight of it in your hands, how it twitches and leaks thick pearls of precum with each moan.
He really shouldn't be doing this. Shouldn't be fantasizing about a subordinate like this. Shouldn't be fantasizing about painting your pretty face with ropes of cum or pressing you chest-first into the mattress. Your soft voice breaking into loud moans, ghost dragging you back on his cock even when you try to squirm away from the stretch–
Ghost grunts, pants heavily, and works his cock thoroughly as thick spurts of cum paint his chest and sheets. He's left panting for a long moment, then his mind slowly drifts back to you. Would you stay, afterwards? Probably, ducking into his connected bathroom with his cum leaking over your thighs.
Ghost's cock gives an interested twitch, and he wonders if you'd want to go multiple rounds as he wraps his hand back around his dick and starts pumping.
Team 141 was glad to have a puffin medic on the team. Your flight was a huge asset, and you fit right in taking care of the team.
But Ghost noticed that you were mocking them. You always stood next to him with his arms crossed, leaning your back on the wall just like him. If he uncrossed his arms, you would follow suit moments later.
You tried to wear your gear like Johnny, carry your weapon like Kyle, and you even tried standing like Price sometimes too. You would study how they moved, mimicking it for yourself and puffing with pride whenever you got it right.
"Do you like copying us, birdie?" Ghost asks, tilting his head at you. You blink at him in surprise, tilting your head back at him the exact same way. "Oh, don't pretend you aren't doing it. You're doing it right now." He huffs, and you let out a chirp of realization.
"Oh! I wasn't trying to mock you, puffins mimick those they are close to. It helps us form a better flock." You explain happily, wings ruffling as you spoke. "The more I act like you, the more you can trust that I pay attention to you and will help." Ghost couldn't help but chuckle a little at your unwavering enthusiasm, patting your head with a heavy hand.
"Okay, Puff. Just don't stand too close too me, the rookies might not be able to tell us apart."
