PLAYING DRESS UP𝜗𝜚 p. parker
synopsis: you ask peter to play out one of your halloween fantasies for you (ghostface!frat!peter)
genre: frat!peter, ghostface, smut, roleplay
warnings: (imaginative) non-consensual, degrading language used, slightly aggressive
in honour of spooky season🎃
You yawn, adjusting your position on the bed as you sunk further into the soft cushion, turning up the tv a little at an attempt to drown out the blaring noise of the party down the street. it was halloween night, your favourite holiday out of the entire year, and instead of being out partying like you usually would you were skipping out on a total rager just so you could house sit for your boyfriend's frat while he busied himself stopping amateur criminals in spirit halloween masks from vandalising the city in the name of festive fun.
Typically, Peter would make it a point to never leave you in the house alone, especially on a night like tonight. You replayed his words before he had left, kissing you goodbye before swiftly pulling his mask over his chin— "You never know what creeps are lurking about on Halloween."
You had reassured him that you were well protected, 4 walls, second story of a huge house and an array of scary movies and popcorn to fill your tummy while you waited up for him or the rest of the brothers to get back from their own celebrations, whichever turned up first.
To be honest, you felt a little cliché. hair thrown back over the pillow as you buried yourself under the woollen blanket Peter had left you with, a little chilly in your lack of pajamas. instead, you were sporting a baby pink bralette and a skimpy pair of boy shorts you had snagged from your boyfriend about a month ago.
The part that made you feel slightly corny was the horror movie playing on the TV; scream. the first movie out of all five sequels, the best in your humble opinion. you had forced Pete and a few close friends to watch it on the weeks leading up to the 31st, insisting it was an absolute classic and a must-watch, though the majority of the night had been spent with you ogling over your boyfriend while he tried to focus on the movie.
You briefly wondered when he'd be home, but upon checking the time realised it was only around 12am and he would likely be much later. funnily enough, just as the first iconic phone call rang out on your tv screen, your cell began to vibrate beside you with an unknown caller.
You audibly scoffed, sitting up right against the headboard and letting the blanket drop from your chest, snatching the phone and bringing it to your ear; "Hello?" you started, tone just a little snarky on account of how ridiculously predictable was for a bunch of kids on halloween finding random numbers off the internet.
There was nothing. Just the steady buzz of the line and heavy breathing down the phone. It sounded windy, you could tell they were outside and definitely high up.
"Hello?" you asked again.
Nada. Just huffs of air that sounded like they were coming from behind a mask, slightly muffled and eerily close to the speaker.
You laughed, "Look, dude, this is real funny and all but don't you think you're probably a little too old to be doing this now?"
"What's your favourite scary movie?" the voice replied, low and jagged.
"Really?" you dragged out, throwing the blanket from your bare legs and swinging them round until your feet hit the cool wood of the floor. "This is pretty weak, you know, for a prank call. You couldn't come up with anything more exciting?" you rose, absentmindedly resting the phone against your cheek and shoulder while you slipped your feet into Peter's cozy slippers and began padding your way to the other side of the room.
A reply made you pause in your tracks, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up as a funny feeling swirled in your tummy; "You got a boyfriend?" the voice asked, a little mocking in his tone, almost like he knew the answer. You replied without thinking, "Yes." there was a shuffle before he asked a follow up question, "Is he home?" your blood ran a little colder this time, gripping the phone fully in your hand as your entire body straightened up, your back to the only window in Peter's small bedroom.
"Yes, he is." you tried to affirm, but your tone was unconvincing and the voice behind the line chuckled at you.
"A little stupid of him to leave such a pretty girl on her own at night, no?"
"No." you answered carefully, your breath a little shaky, "He's here. With me."
"How come you're not at that cool party down the street?" he paused for a moment and you heard some more shuffling before what sounded like a snap of elastic. "Is that where he is?"
You freeze entirely. Nothing but the repeated open and close of your lips as your shaky hand hovered the phone next to your ear. How the fuck did he know what street on you were on?
There's a triumphant hum of satisfaction and you feel sick. "You look like you've just seen a ghost, baby." you don't think, just pull the phone from your ear and slam your finger against the big red button, gasping for air as your eyes dart around the room, focusing on the frame of the movie and watching a girl be gutted by a familiar killer in a ghost-like mask.
The phone rings again and you jump. you move without processing it, snatching the phone and answering the call as you bring the phone close to your ear once more, gazing out into the darkness through the window as you try your hardest to sound mean and intimidating.
"Alright, you had your fun. Now stop calling me."
"What's your name?" he's relentless, and you can tell just by his tone how much he delights in this. in tormenting you.
"Why's it matter?" you huff, narrowing your eyes between the openings in the thin blinds.
"So that I know who I'm lookin' at."
You huff, stomping toward the window and pulling sharply at the long piece of white wire, closing the blinds entirely. Just to be sure.
"Yeah, very funny, asshole. Prank over."
He's undeniably quick with his reply, almost like he had rehearsed it; "You're in his bedroom. It's small, a little janky. There's a blanket left on the bed that you were just sitting with and you've been pacing the room for the last five minutes hoping it'll keep you from view, but it won't." you're totally silent and he takes it as a means to carry on. "You're wearing a lacy bra, it's see-through. Practically begging to be ripped off you, and you're parading around in those slutty little shorts like a whore while you're waiting for your hero boyfriend to get home in the hopes that he might finally get you to cum without faking it."
You're still for a few moments, taking in the ringing in your ears and the sensation of all the oxygen slowly dissipating from the room. it's suddenly freezing, but you feel sweltering from within and your stomachs doing somersaults as you try your hardest not to tremble. You screw your eyes shut and your voice is weak in your reply— "What do you want?"
There's more shuffling, like he's readjusting the way he's sat, before he speaks to you clear as day; "I wanna see your tits. Press 'em against the glass."
You hesitate, hoping for a way out to present itself in impeccable timing, but expectedly nothing arose. So, you sheepishly obey, fingers crawling under the lacy band around your chest as you took slow steps toward the window, bringing the baby pink fabric up and over your head as you slowly pulled the balled up string beside you, revealing yourself to the stranger outside, wherever he may be.
You stood there, as calmly as possible, awaiting your next instruction with the phone still unwaveringly beside your ear. Your nipples pebbled under the cool breeze from the open window, and possibly his scrutiny, enhanced by the pale glow cast down by the moon.
There was no reply for a moment, just a low groan and the slightly wet sound of skin against skin while you waited. until, he spoke again; "Against the glass, like I told you."
You took a deep breath, expecting the bitter cold of the glass as you leaned forward, pressing them flat against the window in a way that was slightly uncomfortable, standing on your tip toes to make sure he received a satisfactory view. you couldn't explain why, but a sick part of you felt a little proud at the prospect of pleasing him, despite the nature of his demands.
"Good girl." he breathed out, the sound of movement speeding up a little. "Now get rid of the shorts."
You did as you were told, taking a step back from the glass to slowly shuffle Peter's stripy boxers down your legs, the thought of him being pushed out as quickly as it came as you refused to think about the possible infidelity you were committing despite the circumstances. There's a groan behind the phone at the new appearance of skin and it encourages you to keep going, kicking them off your feet to reveal your entirely nude figure, save for a pair of mismatched black underwear.
"Such a pretty little thing."
Your skin was hot with anticipation, almost swooning at the compliment though you wished you hadn't.
"Now, touch yourself."
"What?" you asked breathlessly, though you had heard him.
"Start with your tits first. I want you to make a show of it." you did as he asked, trailing your fingers agonisingly slow up your body, past your navel, until they instinctively cupped around your tits. you gripped decently hard, in the hopes it would stop your shaking, and used your hand to massage the left breast a little before pinching around your perked nipple. You waited a few moments for any sort of reaction, focusing on the strained breathing and shuffling of cloth, beginning to pick up in pace a little, before toying with the bud a little.
"Fuck, stick your fingers in your mouth. Get 'em wet." you obeyed once more, dropping the hand cupping your right one and bringing it to your mouth, making a show of bringing your middle and ring finger to your lips. you waited for the sound of shuffling to slow before wrapping your lips around them, bringing your mouth down to the knuckle and back up a few times, bobbing yourself up and down rather obediently, until they were fully coated. "Shit, you enjoy this don't 'ya?"
You removed your fingers from your mouth, gasping a little at the breath of fresh air and fighting to catch the drool dribbling down your chin, eventually connecting with your chest with a wet slap— "Fuck you." you muttered, shivering a little in the new chill from the saliva on your chest.
"In due time, doll." he sniggered from down the phone, though his tone held a complete seriousness that made you aware of the fact he wasn't joking. "Now, before I do, you gotta get yourself all lubed up for me." you awaited your next instruction, though you were sure you already knew what it was. "Move 'em to the side and touch yourself. Slowly." you did exactly as he asked, trailing your soaked fingers back down your body and stopping once you reached your underwear, taking a deep breath before curling them around the edge of the fabric and pushing it to the side, exposing your sopping wet cunt to whatever stranger was receiving your little window show.
"'Atta girl. Keep going." he praised you, which was foreign but traitorously welcomed by you, desperate to hear more of it. You didn't know if it was out of sheer arousal or the hopes of keeping your life, though you would have liked to kid yourself and say it was the latter.
You carefully dipped a finger, running it between your folds a few times and gasping at the starved sensation, almost entirely forgetting about your audience. You heard him groan, deep and guttural, and it made the hairs on the ends of your arm stand up. You continued as you normally would, trying your hardest to fight back any thoughts of being watched, though in truth it was scarily easy for you to go about this with such erotic normalcy.
There was silence on the other end for a while and you wondered if he was even still watching. As a means of testing the waters, and sinfully chasing your own pleasure, you reached a little further down and slipped a finger into your hole, resting your forehead against the glass and screwing your eyes shut as you pumped slowly. You were lost in yourself, teetering on the edge, when the window in front of you rattled with a deafening bang, the sound of a collision and you jumped back, startled.
You froze. right in front of you, mounted upon the wall with nothing but the open window between you, was two slanted black eyes and a shockingly low quality plastic mask, resembling that of a ghost.
Your backs pressed hard into the bed, your legs hooked tightly over his arms as he barrels into you at a wicked speed. he's using his ungodly strength, pressing the fronts of your plush thighs tightly to your chest and using it as leverage to fuck into you at an excruciating angle. He speaks to you and you throw your head back; both out of pleasure and to avoid the continuous knocking of your sore knees against your chin with each of his bed-breaking thrusts. "Bet your boyfriend doesn't fuck you like this, huh? Can't make a pretty baby like you feel good?" the more he fucks you, the harsher and more lewd his words get and your brain can barely register the change in position as he leans back, training his thumb on your puffy clit and flicking with expertise.
It makes you cry out and fight against him, using what room you have with your ,now free, leg to kick your heel back against the bed. You don't get far, his elbow catches your knee and holds it in place, using his hand still secured against the back of your thigh to pull you right back to where you were. You screw your eyes shut, body going limp in defeat, the realisation that you couldn't escape him washing over you in tears that began to pour from the corners of your eyes.
He suddenly slows a little, and you take in your first real breath in what felt like hours, cracking open your eyes to take a peek at what might be causing him to grant you such mercy, but the motionless plastic obscured any emotion he might have had. He leaned down, very slowly, and you flinched. He paused, allowing you to ride out your fear on your own time, before bringing an ungloved hand to your face, cupping it roughly, feeling the smushed fat of your cheek between his fingers and the wet tears on your skin pool around his fingertips.
Eventually, his thumb found its way into your mouth, spreading your tears and letting you lap up the salty taste. You sucked, involuntarily and he groaned— "You're gonna make me cum, baby." You felt a little proud at his admission of how you were pleasing him, shutting your eyes once more to bathe in the pocket of calm within the storm. You felt your own release oncoming and despite the shame, it excited you. "I can feel you clenching around me, you're close too, huh? You wanna make a mess on me?" You didn't have to answer. He sped up his ministrations on your puffy clit, barking a laugh that fizzled into a lengthy moan as he stared down at you.
You felt yourself coming apart and could only reach out for him, thoughts of Peter long gone as you allowed this intruder to make you cum. He wasn't far behind you, pulling out and painting your thighs in thick ropes and shuddering as you both watched him drip down your legs.
The mask was quickly ripped from his face, discarded somewhere far around the room, revealing your sweet boyfriend who was a panting mess after the entire ordeal. He broke out into a toothy grin, his hands flying to your waist as he leaned down to place an attack of kisses to your jaw. You squealed, flailing around beneath him— "Peter!" you laughed, raking your fingers through his sweaty mess of hair.
"You happy now, you little freak?" he mumbled into your skin, nuzzling you with the prickly ends of his unshaven face.
"Very." you smiled, content, your cheeks glowing in the heat of the aftermath. He peeked up at you with his chin tucked into your chest, trying his hardest to look like he hadn't enjoyed himself, though you knew he had. "So, I was thinking.."
"We're not doing this again next year."
