.ᐟ NOTE: this work was previously posted on @/tojidelrey but i got hacked, it's one of my favourites and i didn't wanna lose it :( also posted on ao3
read the sequel here!
It was a really, really bad decision.
I mean, going out to a Halloween party? When there’s a serial killer on the loose waiting for his new victim?
Yeah, no thanks.
Rejecting that invitation and saving your ass from getting slashed would be a no brainer. The sanest decision to be ever made by anyone. But why does saying no to your friends seem way worse than that? Has your life actually got to the point that the risk of getting murdered is more preferable than social rejection?
Well…yes, and that’s why you agreed on attending this party.
Your eyes set on the news broadcast playing on your television. A new victim of the Ghostface found stabbed to death in town.
Ghostface. His name was all over the news, the newspapers and the internet this past month. The people gave him that name after some witness testimonies came out claiming to have seen a ghostly white screaming mask and a black cloak. The police even found a mask left behind in one of the crime scenes, confirming his appearance.
He had already killed five people this month, nothing linked them to each other beyond the way they were murdered. The authorities said that he likes to stalk them before he goes after them, just for the thrill of the hunt.
You sighed as you turned off the TV, opting for keeping your thoughts far away from that psycho and resuming to do your make up in peace, only the gentle hum of your playlist playing through your speaker keeping you company inside your dorm. Tonight you were dressed as an angel.
Such a cliché. But it was the easiest costume you could think of only using your clothes, and it actually came out looking very good. A white bustier, white fishnets and the tiniest white shorts that didn’t even cover up half of your ass cheeks. You just had to buy the halo and the wings to match.
You scan yourself — everything looks like it’s supposed to look, nothing out of place — before going out. You didn’t want to bring a purse, it wouldn’t match with the look. The only stuff you were going to take were your phone on your hand and your lip combo snuggly fit inside your bra.
With ‘this better be good’ as your last thought before grabbing the door knob, you exited your dorm and went to meet your friends.
[...]
The town used to feel so alive during Halloween. Families trick-or-treating, kids dressed up as their favourite things running around, grown-ups going out to party. It used to be so fun.
But now the streets are almost empty. The family-friendly-hour guarded by police is over and everything closed due to the curfew. There were only the few dumb brave ones defying fear and going out to party. You included.
Maybe it was the news-induced paranoia playing with your susceptibility or something, but on your way to the meeting point you arranged with your friends you couldn’t help but walk twice your normal speed. It was like a creeping anxiety fueling your speed, making you feel like someone was following you. Which is crazy, because every time you looked back there was nothing but empty streets and a couple of cars driving by.
You wished you took an uber instead of walking those five blocks, but since it was so close you didn’t feel like spending the money you could use for something more important.
The lingering feeling of danger simmered down when you reached your friends.
“Finally!” groaned Nobara when she saw you. She was wearing a bloody sexy nurse costume. “We’ve been waiting for soooo long,” she said as she hooked her arm with yours and pulled you closer.
“We only waited for like—five minutes, by the way,” chuckled Maki on your other side, she was dressed as a sexy black cat. Internally, you sigh with relief as no one was creative with the costumes this year.
“It’s still too long!” argued back the brunette. “A lot of fun stuff can happen in five minutes, and we’re missing it!”
“Sorry, Kugisaki,” your reply was half apology and half joking. You actually didn’t care about what you were missing out before you even got there, but you knew she did. “It’s kind of hard to run with these heels.”
Your friend shrugged it off with a smile and changed the subject. You kept walking with your arms hooked to both of them.
[...]
The alcohol had already started affecting you. You felt like your brain was spinning inside your skull as you made your way into the upstairs bathroom of the frat house. The first thing you did upon entering was to splash your face with cold water, the next was to look up at your reflection.
Your make up had barely smudged — thank you waterproof setting spray — and your cheeks were flushed from the uncountable tequila shots.
The party wasn’t so bad, but as you expected from the beginning, your friends ditched you the moment you stepped inside the house. You didn’t know why they insisted you go with them if they were gonna disappear from your sight the entire night. Thankfully you knew some people there, or else you were gonna stay with your back pressed to the wall until everyone left.
You hung out with the cute frat guys for a while, playing beer pong and chatting, until one of them — the tall white-haired hottie dressed as a devil — grabbed you and pulled you into the dancefloor. There, between the flirty looks and the grinding, you drank from every single shot he handed you. You just couldn’t resist those piercing blue puppy eyes.
But now, inside that bathroom and looking at your reflection, you couldn’t help but scoff at these people—and you—pretending to mask their fear with loud music and alcohol. Like this whole thing wasn’t a huge ‘Free victims. Come in.’ neon sign for that psycho. You rolled your eyes at the thought.
However, any critical thinking about your peers and your current situation was interrupted when a large figure entered the same bathroom you were in.
“Hey, it’s occupied,” you scolded through slurred words, your tongue felt heavy inside your mouth.
Your eyes scanned the intruder through the mirror’s reflection. A cold sweat pooled on the back of your neck. He was dressed as Ghostface. You swallowed hard when you saw that white mask staring at you through hollow eyes with his head tilted.
It was clear that this was someone with a very twisted sense of humour, who had dressed up as the killer from the news, even covering himself with fake blood and everything. Still, you couldn’t not feel intimidated by that ghostly figure.
“Didn’t you hear me?” you questioned, rising a brow. “Its. Occupied.” you repeated, a little annoyed now.
You were about to turn around and leave this idiot alone when the figure grabbed your hair and forced you back into your original position - in front of the mirror, hips resting against the marble counter, a slight stinging sensation where his gloved hand had your hair. You didn’t know what to do, you were so shocked by the audacity of that person you couldn’t find the words to yell at him.
The figure shook his head.
Your eyebrow was raised again. Your drunk brain was trying to figure out what the hell he wanted from you. For a moment you glanced at the reflection and the imaginary light bulb on top of your head lit up.
“What? You wanna play psycho killer?” you asked with a crooked smile. The way you, dressed up as a slutty angel, and him, dressed as a masked killer, looked in the mirror gave you that ‘oh’ moment of lucidity and understood what he wanted. Maybe it was the alcohol in your system or that thing you had for masks, but you weren’t against this roleplay.
The figure nodded, answering your question.
“Can I be the helpless victim?” you joked, your voice innocent and airy, looking at him with your best doe eyes and pouty smile.
He nodded again.
His hand—that was still holding your hair—exerted force on your head until you were bent over the counter. Your arched back lifted your half-naked ass higher, the smooth white fabric barely covering it, making the masked man leave a muffled sigh under his mask.
The Ghostface didn’t lose time. The cold air in the room clashed with your bare skin as he got rid of the minimal clothing covering you with urge. You felt your nipples harden against the marble, drawing gasps from your trembling throat that sounded like music to the mysterious man.
Lust filled the air. The hard chest of the masked man rested on top of your naked back, both of your breaths were connected by the uncontrollable desire. You started to excitedly wonder what could happen next, how rough would it be, what could be his next move? Despite the fear building up inside your stomach, the wet heat running down your thighs encouraged you to continue.
The tearing sound of your fishnets made you shudder, and the cold metal touch of what you thought was a blade sent shivers down your spine. The bastard sliced your underwear off. Now the only thing protecting your bare pussy from his growing bulge was the fabric of his robe and his jeans.
His bulge rubbed slowly against you, so slow it was torturous, the friction sending flashes of pleasure to your lower belly. You didn’t want him to stop; his rhythm was delicious enough to make the black fabric even darker with your juices.
The Ghostface only let out ragged breaths, although his gaze wasn’t noticeable in the mirror that was reflecting the vulgar expressions on your face, inside that hood he was savouring the obscene angle he had you on—your ass shaped like a heart from his point of view.
His gloved fingers forced their way into your mouth without warning, seeking the lubrication your saliva could provide. The combination of the leather taste and your frothy saliva tingled your taste buds. There was a certain synchronization with the fake thrusts he made into your mouth and the friction against your cunt.
His other hand grabbed your hair again and pulled you hard so you could see yourself better how he caressed your pussy lips with his lubed fingers, playing with your folds, feeling how they got wetter with those sweet juices you were leaking. Your mouth gaped when you felt his fingers entering your cunt so slowly it was almost cruel. It didn’t take much time until he was digging his digits inside those gummy walls of yours.
“Hmmph, fuck.” your whimpers got louder, but you were sure that the music blasting outside the bathroom was muffling the lewd sounds escaping from your mouth. So you let yourself loosen up, you were getting fingered by a stranger in a bathroom after all, one dressed as a serial killer. There was no place for inhibition anymore.
The mask had a voice modifier inside, you hadn’t noticed before with his deep sighs, but now it was picking up his louder grunts and morphing them into a robotic sound. He tilted his head again, just like the slashers did in the movies, staring at your facial expressions, you were enjoying his fingers abusing your cunt so much. If only you could see how his eyes darkened.
The movements of his fingers stopped after a few minutes because then, without any warning, he found his way inside you again—this time with his cock. The stretch of his girth burned as he buried himself into you. You opened your mouth with a slacked jaw, eyes closed shut as you tried to take the ridiculous size of that cock and not fall apart in the process.
“Hmm, look at you, doll.” growled the man behind you, the modified voice coating your ears like honey. “Who would’ve thought that you’d get so turned on being like this,” he sounded out of breath, taking your mewls as encouragement as he began to rock his hips against your cheeks abruptly.
A wet slapping sound began to fill the room as he fucked you against the counter. The marble edge painfully digged into your hips but you couldn’t care less, the way his length felt inside of you cancelled any uncomfortable feelings. With each thrust your body shoved forward and made your tits jiggle.
“I’m gonna show you what good little sluts like you deserve,” he muttered, holding your hips tightly. “Gonna fuck this tight pussy with my big cock.”
You bit your lip and moaned, his words only fueling the heat inside you and dripping slick into his cock. You weren’t used to his moves; any trace of vanilla had disappeared the moment he exercised that cruel power over you. Your voice started to wear out and your thoughts were so tangled that you couldn’t form a straight answer, limiting yourself to just whine and cry just like he described—like his good little slut.
He was a vulgar and obscene entity that just released your deepest and darkest desires with just the sound of his distorted voice and the heavenly thrusts of his hips.
Your eyelids felt heavy, you couldn’t help but close them for a second, which earned you a hard slap on your ass that, by judging how bad it stinged, would definetly leave a mark.
“Don’t fucking close your eyes,” he cursed through what sounded like gritted teeth. His hand grabbed you by the chin and forced you to look at yourself in the mirror. He never stopped pounding you. “Look at yourself. Look how much of a whore you’re being to a complete stranger,” he was right, your hair was messy and your cheeks were flushed with desire, some of your lipstick smudged around your mouth from before making them look twice as big. “What would your little boyfriend say, huh? Would he like to know that a killer is filling up his girl?”
He probably said that referring to the frat guy you were dancing with hours ago. You shook your head. “No boyfriend,” was the only thing you could manage to reply with his hand still gripping your face. Your brain began to shut down from so much brutality and overstimulation.
“Heh, really now?” he sounded excited after your answer. His hand left your chin. “Then, nothing could stop me from doing this,” he said, and the next thing you felt apart from his cock hammering inside of you was the sharp blade on his hand piercing its way into your soft skin. The hot pain of his weapon cutting on the flesh of your ass mixed with the pleasure of his thrusts melted your brain away until there was nothing left but incoherent babbling.
His hand caressed the fresh wound before traveling to your bare chest, staining the soft flesh crimson red. The hunting knife went up to your neck and rested on your jugular, the pace of his hips began to speed up and you thought you could die from the way his tip was hitting your sweet spot. Until now you didn’t know that you liked danger so much, because the stinging of your cut and the sharp blade deathly close to your neck should have made you scared, instead you were getting wetter by the second.
A subtle bulge started to form on your lower belly. You could see through the mirror how his length reached places in you no other dick had explored before.
“Fuuuuck,” the man exhaled a deep groan that sounded almost animalistic despite the robotic modification. “Just look at you, such a mess,” the silicone mask caressed your cheek as he rested his face on your shoulder, the deliciously intense scent of cologne invaded your nostrils. His hand still held the knife to your neck, the other grabbed both of your arms behind your back and kept your body straight and slightly arched so you had a better view. “I’m gonna ruin you,” he promised, or threatened. “Gonna make you cum so hard, no other than me will fuck you this good. There’s no dick out there that could abuse this pussy like mine.”
Your head was spinning. You were all over the place. The overstimulation and his dirty talk that sounded threatening were bubbling up in your lower abdomen and you were oh so desperate to reach your climax.
“Gonna make you mine, gonna fill you up.”
Your hips were hitting hard against the bathroom counter, your breasts bounced with each thrust and your mouth was slack jawed and letting any sound come out. Your gaze showed both pleasure and fear. Despite currently getting the fuck of your life, you were still uncertain of making it out alive…and that made it fun, actually.
His hand let your arms go. You watched as it grabbed his mask and took off the plastic material that was keeping you from knowing who was fucking you.
It wasn’t enough to say he was the most attractive man you’d ever seen in your life.
Straight, shoulder-length hair, tired eyes surrounded by violet shadows that revealed sleepless nights, and a striking mark or tattoo running across his cheeks and nose bridge. His porcelain-like skin couldn’t hide the rosy flush that softened his otherwise sharp and intimidating features.
His lips curled into a crooked smirk when your whines stopped upon seeing his face. “Like what you see, angel?”
The deepness of his true voice shook you to your core and made you weak in the knees. He didn’t give you time to answer the obvious ‘yes!’ your brain wanted to scream, he just grabbed you by the hair and pulled you into a filthy kiss, all spit and teeth and fighting tongues. You let out a tiny mewl when his teeth bit hard on your lower lip, so hard it left you with a metallic taste after he broke away from the kiss, only a thin thread of pink-ish saliva connecting your mouths.
“Couldn’t help myself, just want to devour those lips.”
You felt like your insides were being abused by his length, like you were just a toy, your gushing cunt already feeling full of him even though he was giving you lazy half-thrusts. The few moments when he decided to punish you and thrust in full made you dizzy. Through the mirror, you could notice his gaze fixated on the way his cock disappeared into your warm walls.
His hands hovered over the end of your waist, drawing invisible lines along the curves of your hips, while he kept spitting the most vulgar and purely depraved things into your ears. You watched as his eyes rolled back into his skull whenever your pussy clenched and tightened around his shaft whenever he said something dirty, and the way he thrusted back with mouth-watering force made your eyes roll too.
You were a hundred percent sure that the people outside the bathroom were hearing your moans by now, but you couldn’t help it, you were approaching your long-awaited orgasm and you felt the hot knot in your lower abdomen loosening and sending electricity through your nervous system. Your walls were hugging his cock so tight, as if your pussy didn’t want to let him go now that you were about to cum.
“Shit, you’re practically swallowing me,” groaned the handsome stranger.
“I’m gonna cum,” you whined, furrowing your brows and focusing on that feeling so you could reach over the edge of your climax.
He leaned over you, pressing his chest to your naked back and angling you forward. He was looking into your eyes through the mirror, a wicked smirk on his face.
“Yeah? Gonna cum on my cock?” he mumbled into your ear, hot breath caressing the inside, leaving you with a tingling sensation. Ween his only answer was a strangled moan, he clicked his tongue and grabbed you by the crown of your hair, the new angle pushing you even more towards the edge. “Answer, slut. You gonna cum on my cock? You gonna be m’little whore and let me cum inside you?”
You nodded your head, the best you could with his hand still on your hair. “Yeah, want you to cum in me, please fill my pussy,” you whimpered, almost sobbed, begging for your release.
“Then cum for me, angel.”
The moment didn’t take long, a couple more thrusts into you and that was it, his seed was filling you up and, at the same time, yours was coating his length; both mixing inside of you, spilling out and running down your thighs. The proof of your affair was now staining your shorts and dripping on the floor.
Then, the stranger pulled out and—without saying anything—started to zip his jeans and ip on the mask again. You stopped him, not even bothering to pull up your shorts.
“What’s your name?” you asked. You didn’t want to lose the opportunity of seeing him again. Mind blowing fuck or not, he was beautiful and your still foggy mind thought he looked familiar. Besides, he must go to the same college as you, given it was a frat party.
He just shook his head, smirk still intact on his handsome face. He put on his mask and softly grabbed your face by the chin.
“Ghostface.”
You rolled your eyes at his joke. “Well, Mr. Ghostface…will I ever see you again?”
His hand left your chin to travel to the loose strand of hair over your forehead, tucking it behind your ear. “Soon, angel.”
And then he left, the silence after the door shut was deafening, your ears ringing and your mind left spinning. You looked at yourself again—smudged make up, sweaty and your hair a mess. You turned and looked at your back, your body was stained red by the fake blood he had on his cloak. Your eyes traveled down to your ass, where he had cut you moments before, your cheeks were red and stained with your own blood, but it was like a superficial cut, nothing serious.
You couldn’t help but notice that he carved a ‘C’ on your left cheek.
[...]
When you finally pull yourself together and decide to leave the bathroom, the first thing you encounter is straight out of a horror movie.
A body was lying on the floor, a guy slumped against the wall opposite the bathroom door, blood staining his clothes and the wall behind him. You clapped a hand over your mouth, fighting the urge to vomit. You dashed down the stairs to find your friends and alert the frat guys to call the police, but the scene in the living room was even worse.
Three bodies were there. One guy and two girls. The two girls were seated on the couch, almost as if the killer posed them, their blood turning the cream-colored fabric a deep scarlet- The guy laid face down on the floor, his blood pooling around him. The music continued playing, its upbeat rhythm and trendy lyrics felt like a mock to the gruesome scene.
You felt sick to your stomach, wanting to puke, cry and scream, but you couldn’t. You were frozen on the last step of the stairs.
As you hear a siren in the distance and the house slowly bathes in the blue and red lights, your eyes locked onto a sticky note on the front door. You carefully walked over and read it.
Pairing: Ghostface!Geto Suguru x Journalist!Reader x Ghostface!Choso Kamo
Synopsis: You’re a journalist working for your local news station to bring people all the bright, tragic, and gory news that pops up in your small town. You have the job, the fame, the apartment, and the perfect, sexiest boyfriend. What more could you want? Your big break into the mainstream and hopefully, a book deal. So when a series of mysterious murders and a new serial killer named “Ghostface” puts the town in a panicked frenzy, you know that this is your big chance to snag that promotion dangling over you like a bone. Truth be told, you don’t believe in Ghostface, but you do believe in a good story and will stop at nothing to uncover the truth. Even if it means changing your life forever.
Warnings: 18+ (MDNI); BF!Geto x GF!Reader x Bestie/Coworker!Choso; PLOT TWIST; Noncon; R*pe; Knifeplay; Noncon Sëx on Camera; Public Sëx; Sēx on Desk; Ripping Clothes; Bondage; Blindfolding; Sensory Play; Dual Blowjob; Sloppy Cünnilingus; Spitroast; Rough Doggy; Forced Örgasms; Breeding; Two Creampies; Reader Cums 3x; No Aftercare; ANOTHER PLOT TWIST
Word Count: 9.7k
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!
You immediately sit up from your hunched-over position over your work desk, peering at the same article for the past ten minutes now. It is a slow evening at your local news station, the sun quickly setting and twilight setting in now that fall is officially here. Trees emblazoned with red, orange, and gold leaves stand outside your window overlooking the station lot.
“Come in!” you shout, capping the top to your yellow highlighter. As your office door opens, you turn in your wheeled chair to face it, crossing your legs in your black pencil skirt.
Choso, the head of the writing department aka the one who sells your news articles to the top journalist companies in the city, pops his head through the crack in the door. He has his black hair in his spiked ponytails and his glasses perched on his nose. He wears his work ID on a lanyard around his neck, right against his black jumper that goes so well with his jeans and boots.
He always dresses so casually for work whereas you dress always like you’re about to be photographed, as he’s told you. Today, you wore a pencil skirt paired with a red blouse that makes your eye color pop and black pumps. Autumn has always been your favorite time of year for flash.
“Hey,” Choso greets, giving you a smile. “Another late night?” You nod, motioning to your Starbucks cup filled to the brim with iced coffee with two shots of espresso and oatmilk creamer.
“You know how it is. I’ve gotta get this big story somehow if I wanna get that promotion.” You shrug and smile despite the sheer exhaustion you feel. You can even feel the bags under your eyes that you’ve covered with as much concealer as you can. You’ve been up five this morning; a daily routine for you for over a month now.
Choso slides his body through the door and leans against the wall, shutting the door behind him. “So I guess dinner and drinks with me and the crew is off the table then.” You gape at him through your glasses, watching him smirk. “You? Agreeing to drinks and socialization? Is it snowing?”
“Shut the fuck up,” he chuckles. He rolls his eyes at you but blushes, knowing that he is the wallflower in this company. He once told you that he can’t believe that you’ve been friends for over two years since he started with the company. You’re the total opposite, always up for nights out with the team or office holiday parties, but lately, you’ve been strictly committed to your work. “Thanks for the invite but another time. This story requires all my time right now.”
You motion an arm towards your desk riddled with articles and your laptop opened on a video of a recent interview with a college girl who claimed she saw Ghostface escape from her dorm after murdering one of her classmates. Ghostface. The name of the newest sensation in your small town. A name that has got your townsfolk so twisted up that they’re locking doors and windows for the first time in centuries.
Your town used to be the safest in the nation. Everybody knows each other. Neighbors bring over pies and goodies for cookouts. Kids play with other kids down the block until midnight without being bothered. Citizens were rather careless, feeling comfortable in the illusion of safety that living in a small town brought…until the murders began a month ago. And they just kept coming.
Your station has been covering these stories ever since, staying up to date on the latest news on murders and possible leads. But when the town’s newest serial killer is running around wearing a ghost mask and has never been seen before, it’s hard to snag anybody in handcuffs.
Choso grimaces at your laptop before turning to you. “Between you and me, your boss is a dick for even hangin’ that over your head. Why do you even put up with that?”
You sigh, taking off your glasses for the first time all day. “It’s not that I put up with anything, Cho, but if I wanna get paid more, I have to put in the work.”
You’ve been working at this station for five years now, putting your all into your career, but since your boss told you about the latest promotion opportunity, you know that this is your chance to prove yourself as more than a news girl and a pretty face on a screen. You want to be taken seriously as a journalist and a reporter. You want to write a bestselling book on the juiciest stories in your town. And you know that Ghostface is your ticket to all of that.
“So what?” Choso scoffs as if reading your mind. “You’re gonna try to solve this Ghostface case? I thought you didn’t believe in him.”
You smirk at him, slurping on your coffee, the caffeine hitting you dead in the face. “I don’t. While I think there’s totally a serial killer on the loose, I don’t think he’s prancing around in a ghost mask.” You pause, laughing incredulously. “That’s fucking ridiculous! I bet you that it’s some idiot kid who made up a rumor and everybody started running with it.”
Choso looks slightly put-off by your statement as if Ghostface may come jumping out any minute. “Okay, so let me rephrase my question: you’re gonna try to figure out who the real killer is?”
You give him a secretive look as you put your glasses back on, staring at him over the rim. “Precisely,” you whisper, winking. “Or at least point people in that direction. I’ll be the first one to do it too.” And then write a banging book about it.
Choso just chuckles, obviously not believing you. You can’t blame him; you have very big ambitions and have always shot for the stars. Hence why your boss has been mentioning this promotion so much lately. He knows that you’re working hard for it, jumping right into the churn-n-burn mentality. It could be a trap, but you can only try.
“Well, call me when you get that gold metal,” Choso jokes, rapping his knuckles on the desk. “I’m gonna head out. You’ll be okay here by yourself?” You roll your eyes, waving him out the door. “Choso, I’m a grown woman. I can fully protect myself.”
You have pepper spray and a knife in your Coach tote bag. You are more than ready for that dumb ol’ Ghostface. But Choso still gives you a weary look. “Just don’t stay here late, okay? People are fuckin’ crazy nowadays.”
To soothe his concerns, you tease him, batting your lashes. “Aww, you care about me,” you coo. He adverts his gaze and blushes, but the moment passes when your phone flashes with a name that makes your heart pound. “Oh, that’s my boyfriend calling. See you on Monday?”
You think you see Choso look slightly disappointed but he just nods and bids you farewell before leaving you alone. You answer the phone immediately, glad to see Suguru’s name flash on your screen after not hearing from him all day. “Hey, babe!” you greet, all work forgotten now.
“Hey, baby,” he says, his smooth voice giving you shivers. “You comin’ home tonight? It’s kinda late.” You sip your coffee, staring out at the sky as it quickly turns a dark blue, the thin pink line in the horizon disappearing. “Nah, I’ve got a story to write. Don’t worry; I’ll be home before morning.”
Suguru, your precious, protective boyfriend, makes a small noise of worry. You brace yourself for an incoming lecture. “Baby,” he sighs. “You’ve been clockin’ in long hours for weeks now. I’m sure your boss will be fine with you doin’ work at home.”
You can feel that stubborn streak coming out as you stare at your laptop and the time. 7:12 PM. “Yeah, but I won’t,” you protest, huffing. “I need to get this promotion, Suguru. It’s important to me.”
“I know, baby, but…” He pauses, sighing defeatedly. You feel an immediate pang of guilt for making him worry, but you also want him to understand this commitment you’ve made. You know you’re about to hit something big. You can almost taste it.
“I’m just worried,” he finally says. “And with this killer runnin’ around…at least let me come and sit with you.” You tut, your stomach flipping at your boyfriend’s adorableness. “Always the protective boyfriend.”
“Damn right,” he huffs. “Someone needs to watch out for your stubborn ass.” You smile, feeling his support even through the phone. Even after six years and living together for two, Suguru has never wavered in his treatment of you. He has always supported your career even with his busy job as a male nurse.
“I’m sorry I’ve been worrying you, but I promise I’ll be okay,” you softly say. “And when I get home, we can pop in some scary movies and I can make it all up to you~” You hope he doesn’t miss the way your voice turns sweet and seductive the way he likes. He doesn’t, but he never does. “Scary movies?” he chuckles. “You don’t watch those…and neither do I. I’m too busy watchin’ you.”
You bite your lip and squeeze your thighs together in an effort to not leak onto your seat. Despite your busy schedule, sex with your man hasn’t been waning, thank God. “Fuck, can’t you come home now?” he groans, need in his tone. You bite the tip of your pen as heat floods you, your body craving his. “I will soon. Just keep my spot warm.”
“‘Course, baby,” he replies in that deep voice that makes your pussy do somersaults. “Nobody gets my lap but you. Just hurry home, okay?” A stupid, goofy smile stretches across your face. How lucky you are to have such a perfect boyfriend. And soon, an even more perfect career.
“I love you, Sugu,” you coo into the phone.
“I love you too, baby. You’re gonna get that promotion, I promise.” Oh, you know it. After another goodbye, you hang up and get right back to researching every kill since last month and every possible Ghostface sighting you can find. Some are flunks and pranks, others seem legit. There has to be some pattern here, other than the fact that the killer uses a knife.
You try to flex your brain muscles while running on caffeine, tap-tap-tapping away at your keyboard and reopening Microsoft Word. There has to be something here!
Ring-ring-ring!
You huff in frustration, looking down at your phone to see an unknown caller ID. You smirk and pick it up, picturing your boyfriend on the other end. “Damn, are you that horny for me, babe?” you giggle. “You’re callin’ me from unknown numbers now?”
“No, but your voice might make me,” the stranger on the other end replies. “Nice to meet you too, Y/N.”
You pause, your blood running cold and your heartbeat scattering. This doesn’t sound like Suguru at all–this voice is too raspy, almost gravelly like he smokes a pack of cigarettes a day. “Uh…sorry, who is this?” you tentatively ask. “Suguru, is this you?”
The stranger chuckles, making your stomach turn. “Maybe it is. Why? Scared to talk to strangers?” He laughs again, the sound giving you the willies. You flick your eyes to the window. Is someone playing a trick on you? “Suguru, as hot as this roleplay thing is, I can’t afford to get wet about it,” you firmly say but your voice wavers a bit. “I’m working.”
“On what?” the stranger rudely chuckles. “Catching your Ghostface killer? Oh, that’s right: you don’t believe in me.” Suddenly, your body grows cold and you lower your pen. “Who the fuck is this?” you angrily hiss. “Choso, if this is you, this isn’t funny!”
“It’s neither your boyfriend or your simpin’ ass friend,” the stranger growls. “I heard you don’t believe in me yet you’re tryin’ so hard to catch me for this pathetic job promotion.” He disappointedly clucks his tongue, making your anger simmer. “Well, if you’re so desperate for that big break, news girl, you’ll meet me at the local police station. Then you’ll get your story.”
Your brain slowly processes his words, accessing each possible scenario. This could damn well be some kid who somehow got your personal number and is prank-calling you…or it could be a trap. “Is this a trick?” you snap. “How do I know you’re the real Ghostface?”
But even as you try to call the stranger’s bluff, you stand up from your desk, prepared to move if you need to. The stranger just sighs, sounding tired of your games. “If you don’t believe then don’t come,” he replies boredly. “Maybe your boo would like to meet me instead.”
That anger turns into fear when you realize who he means. Your Suguru. “What?!” you shriek, slamming your hand on the desk. “Don’t you fucking dare!” And then the line cuts, leaving you shaking and panicking. Quickly, you dial Suguru’s number, doing your best to keep calm. He doesn’t answer, but shoots you a text telling you that he’s on the other line with his mom.
You can feel the fear rising up inside of you, making you tremble like a leaf. This could all be a stupid prank, but even so, you can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong. What if this person really is Ghostface? What if he shows up at Suguru’s job, or worse, your home? If he found your personal number, he’ll have no trouble getting your address.
Feeling tears prick your eyes, you snatch your glasses off and roughly blink them away. There’s only one thing to do. After the lights are all shut off and there is only the janitor working overnight to clean, you head for your car and drive to the police station. You don’t even tell Suguru that you left work; you have no idea what time you’ll be home anyway.
‘If you come home at all,’ a snide voice in your head hisses at you. You will it away from behind your steering wheel, doing breathing exercises to try and calm yourself as you drive down the woodsy trail leading to your local police station. You could always turn around and drive home, but you don’t. The innate need to quench your curiosity and snag the killer for your story fuels you.
The police station is dark when you pull up to it, your headlights cut off in the back area of the parking lot farthest away from the door. You’ll probably lose your job if you’re caught, but you need this story. You cut off your car and take your keys, pepper spray, and knife with you, sliding them in the pocket of your trench. You also take a flashlight–something that is essential for recording news stories at night.
When you tip toe up to the station, you do your best to crouch in front of the security hut to hide from the person inside of it…only to find it completely empty. That’s strange. Usually, an officer would be here watching over the station. Quickly, you hurry to the front door and jiggle it to check for the lock…only to find it unlocked. “Wow,” you scoff. Are these officers really dumb enough to think that no one will break into a police station in a small town?
Slowly, you turn the doorknob and walk in, keeping your movements slow and quiet as you flick on your flashlight. You grip it in one hand and your knife in the other, swallowing down your fear. The station is dark, all the offices’ windows shaded with blinds. Nothing stirs in the room, not even a mouse.
“Hello?” you call, slowly walking through the empty station. Silence ensues. You walk around the long stretch of the front desk to one of the narrow hallways of higher-ups’ offices. “If you’re in here, you’d better show yourself now, creep,” you growl, shining the light from the flashlight in front of you. With every step you take, you feel like you’re walking towards your death. You shouldn’t be here. You should just turn around and–
THUMP!
You jump and turn, shining your flashlight in the direction of the stretch of dark hallway behind you. You see nothing…and no one. Your heart is hammering, your skin wet with sweat and staining your clothes. The anticipation is too much, so you jump into the nearest open room and shut the door, locking it behind you. You don’t know if Ghostface or anyone else is occupying it but you figure it’s better than being in such an open space.
Quickly, you flick on the lamp beside you, finding yourself in an office. It is as unorganized as you would think the office of a stressed-out police detective would be: coffee stains on the wooden surface of the desk, unopened mail sitting by the door, an ash tray not emptied, etc. On his desk, in addition to his plaque showing his name and title–“Higurama Hitoshi: Police Detective”–, is a manila folder and photos haphazardly stern about the wooden surface.
Tentatively, you walk up to the photos, realizing that they are all in black and white. Most are from crime scenes; in every photo, you see bloody footprints in carpets and snapshots of closeups of marks on bodies; yellow police tape marking off the crime scenes and where they happened; a Ghostface mask left on the tiled floor of a crime scene.
You recognize it immediately: it’s from Suguru’s hospital. Where one of the doctors (the one that seemed to take a liking to you) was brutally murdered three weeks ago.
You lower your flashlight before shuffling through the photos with one hand, searching through them. Underneath all of the gory ones that make your stomach churn is one that makes you stop short. It is of a long-haired man in front of Suguru’s hospital, carrying a trashbag and something else in his left hand. When you pick up the photo to inspect it closely, you nearly drop it out of shock.
There, coming out of the hospital in the dead of night after hours, carrying a Ghostface mask and a black trash bag, is your boyfriend. “Oh, my God,” you whisper.
THUNK!
You abruptly turn to the sound, find it coming from behind the desk outside the window overlooking the woods. The culprit is not a bird or Ghostface, but a man hanging limply from a noose wrapped around his neck, bloodied and lifeless. You would think he was a rag doll if it wasn’t for the gash in his neck or the tag on his shirt that reads ‘Security Guard’.
Again, this time in a frightened shriek, you say, “Oh, my God!” and turn to the door to run…only to see someone standing there. Your boyfriend in black attire–black jeans, boots, and a shirt that hugs his muscular upper torso. His black hair cascades down his shoulders in a river, accentuating his ear piercings and arms roped in tattoos. “Suguru!” you gasp, placing a hand on your heart. “W-What are you doing here?”
You find yourself backing up into the desk–an unconscious decision made on your body’s part, as if your boyfriend is the danger lurking. You can’t understand why you feel like this or why you’re not happy to see him. Something is wrong, including the smile he gives you. It feels forced; rehearsed. “Hey, baby,” he greets, coming farther into the room. “So you really did come. I should’ve known–you’re pretty stubborn.”
He shuts the door with a click, making you flinch. “So you saw the photos,” he sighs, looking towards the desk. He slumps his shoulders, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I’m sorry you had to find out this way, but it’s all the better to get you your story, right?” His violet eyes sparkle at you, filled with malevolence.
“W-What?” you stammer, your heart plummeting. “Why are you talking like this? What is this?”
Suguru is happy to explain, keeping a distance from you but still making you feel trapped. “What this is, my pretty news girl, is the part in your story where you discover the killer. You’ve been workin’ hard to be your own detective and you’ve finally come to the truth.” He flashes you a white-toothed grin that makes a cold chill run through you. “How’s it feel, baby?”
Suddenly, all of the pieces fit together to form a horrible picture. You stare up at your boyfriend towering over you, aghast. Half of your brain is fighting against the truth while the other is slowly processing it. “It’s you?” you whisper, tears springing into your eyes. “You’ve been killing all of these people?”
Geto tuts as if he’s disappointed in you. “Oh, not just me, pretty baby. Don’t you know there’s always a secret second killer in movies like these?”
Suddenly, the closet behind Detective Higurama’s desk opens and there stands Choso in a black tee and sweats, his fingernails painted black and his wrists adorned in spiked bracelets. This time, his hair is down, creating a mullet around his head. “Choso!” you shout, immediately throwing yourself at him. He doesn’t even hold you. “You have to help me! G-Geto…he’s the…” You pause, noticing the way he’s looking at you: cool and far away. “Choso?” you whisper, your stomach churning.
Slowly, Choso slips something out of his pocket: a small rectangular device that he clicks and puts up to his mouth. “Sorry, Y/N,” he croons into the device. “There was no other way to tell you.” His voice sounds exactly like the one you were talking to earlier. Ghostface’s voice.
There is always a point in a horror movie where everything starts to make sense to the protagonist and that is what is happening now. Your head is spinning; you feel like you’re going to pass out. You back away from Choso, frightened. “No, no, no,” you utter, running your hands through your hair. “Y-You’re Ghostface? Both of you?!”
You look between the two men you thought you knew so well, one blocking the door while the other moves to stand between you and the window. “And the plan worked perfectly,” Geto says, flashing you a deranged smile. “I was investigated for this, y’know.”
He slowly walks over to the desk, ignoring you shimmying away, and wraps his knuckles on his photo. “That night, I came home real late, way past my normal hours. The cops started parkin’ their cars outside our place. You were so wrapped up in this fuckin’ story that you barely paid attention.” He says this with so much venom that you flinch. You couldn’t have really been that neglectful, could you?
He chuckles dryly, shaking his head at Detective Higurama’s plaque. “‘Course, they couldn’t find nothin’ on me. I told ‘em that I found the mask in the office and tossed it out–they believed it. That was the day one of those sack-a-shit doctors was killed…the one pervin’ on you.”
Yes, you remember him: Dr. Fushiguro who always gave you compliments and sly winks whenever you’d visit Suguru with lunch. “You killed him?” you gasp. The two killers smirk, proud of their work. “And many others,” Choso adds. “Anyone who would get the town talkin’. We ain’t picky.” Anger courses through you, sharp and white-hot. “So what now?” you bark, switching between glaring at your boyfriend and your work buddy. “You’re gonna pin this all on me? Like I’m the killer?”
Choso actually laughs at this, giving you a revoltingly pretty smile. “That would be quite a plot twist, but no. We’re gonna give ya what you want, news girl: your big break.” He smirks at you, mockingly. “You caught the killers but at a cost.”
They begin to inch towards you, making you feel like prey being hunted by her predators. “What cost?” you ask, afraid to know the answer.
Suguru answers for you, his eyes cold and unloving. “Your morality,” he growls. “Your dignity. Your own job. Your relationships.” There is a hurt piece there, but you can’t bring yourself to apologize for anything. Not when your boyfriend is a fucking serial killer!
Slowly, you slip your hand down your side to your pocket where your switchblade is. “You’re gonna get caught,” you snap. “You both will go to prison for this.” Geto cocks his head at you, looking absolutely empty inside. “And if we do, we’ll make sure you’ve learned your lesson ‘bout snoopin’ around where you ain’t wanted.”
Slowly, he slips a hand into his pocket and retrieves a Ghostface mask. You watch in horror as he slips it onto his head, directs his head at Choso, and nods. But you’re ready. Quickly, you rip your switchblade out and turn to your coworker. He is also wearing a Ghostface mask now, this one coated in crimson stains. “Stay back!” you scream, pointing the blade at him. Choso looks disappointed, his hands out as if to calm a wild beast. “C’mon, Y/N. Don’t make this hard on yourself.”
You shriek when you feel one arm wrapped around you from behind, tightening against your throat. His other hand wrestles the knife out of your hand, using it against you by pointing it at your cheek. “As smart as you are, babe, you’re actin’ like a dumb bitch,” Geto growls. “Why come here without a gun if you knew Ghostface would be here?”
As he glides the blade down your cheek, you open your mouth and sink your teeth deep into his arm. He swears as he releases you and you use that chance to try to escape, but Choso yanks you into his arms, holding you tight. You try to fight, but you’re stopped when a long blade presses against your throat. “I don’t wanna do this,” Choso whispers, “so don’t make me.”
You close your eyes, letting the tears slip down your cheeks. You can’t believe this is happening. But your situation only gets worse when you hear a sudden click and open your eyes to see Geto holding a burner iPhone, a warm wash of light from the camera lens directed at you. “Smile, cutie pie, you’re on camera,” he sneers behind his mask. “You’ve got quite the audience so far. Lotta people watch the news late at night.”
He turns the phone towards you where you see his browser open on your local news’ website, livestreaming a video. A video of you. And as Suguru said, you do have an audience…about fifty people so far. Your eyes grow wide like a deer in headlights, making Suguru toss his head back and laugh in his mask.
RRRRRRIP goes your blouse, the beautiful satin tearing at the seams as Choso tears it open with one hand, popping each button off and making them fly everywhere. Your breasts are exposed now, so soft and bouncy in your lace bra. “No, don’t do this!” you shout. You barely have time to react before Geto points his own knife at you, letting the camera capture your look of fright.
“If you wanna live, you’re gonna do everything we say,” he growls at you. “C’mon, you’ve been on camera before. You know how to flaunt that frame, baby.” You simmer with anger, hating that he’s referring to the sex tapes you have recorded with him before. This isn’t your boyfriend at all–he’s sexy and loving. The man standing here is anything but.
“Put her on the desk,” he growls at Choso. Your coworker listens, shoving all of Detective Higurama’s items off of his desk before grappling with you to put you on it. You whimper as he forces you onto your back, lying you down across the desk. “Choso,” you brokenly ask, “why are you doing this?”
You try to see his eyes through the mask but you can’t. “Because it’s the only way I could get you to finally look at me,” he hisses, dragging his knife down your cleavage and across your tits in your lace bra. “You always saw me as the work bestie and nothin’ more. Well, that changes tonight.”
You hear the grin in his voice and it makes you shudder. You try to think back to any time where Choso showed that he was attracted to you. Could it have been when he’d get you your exact favorite type of coffee each morning without you asking? Or wherever he’d invite you out after hours? Or how his attitude would change when he was with you? ‘You dumbass,’ you think. ‘How could you have missed it?’
Suguru cackles, coming over to record you, washing you in blinding light. “Quite the simp, ain’t he? He’s always had a thing for you, y’know. I wasn’t shocked when he said yes to my plan.” He slides his blade across your cheek and over your chin. “You stopped givin’ me attention,” he snarls. “You cared too much about a job that didn’t give a shit about you the way I do. Now you pay the price.” He turns to Choso who is hard as a rock, his cock pushing through his pants. “Grab her arms.”
You try to fight back, to squirm, to push at Choso’s hands, but his hand shooting out to smack you across the face stops you short. It hurts. Sobbing to yourself, your body goes limp as he takes your tattered blouse off of you and wraps it tight around your wrists, tying them above your head. And Suguru gets it all on video.
Then your ankles are next. After passing the phone to Choso, Suguru rips your nylon stockings off of you, grinning as you sob when the fabric tears and rips. He then wraps them tight around your ankles, restricting your movement entirely.
“Ooooh, look at this body,” Choso croons, leaning down to trail his lips over your chest, stomach, and neck. “You’re a lucky bastard, G.”
Your boyfriend smirks underneath his mask, taking one hand to roughly massage one of your tits. You fight against the sparks of sensitivity that explode in you from his touch. “Ain’t I?” he chuckles. “You should see what’s up under here. Go ‘head.”
You try to keep your thighs clamped shut, but Choso forces them open with his hand sliding between them as his other hand yanks your pencil skirt up. He groans in arousal at the sight of your lace panties and your soft thighs cushioning your pussy. He slides his hand down one of your legs, making you flinch.
“C’mon, darling,” Suguru whispers, aiming the phone at you. “We’ve got about ninety people in here now. Give the audience a little show, huh? Show ‘em your pretty face.” He squeezes your cheeks together as he grips your chin, forcing you to look into the harsh light. You whimper as Choso begins to rub you through your panties, his palm stroking your clit.
“N-No,” you whimper but it’s all you can get out before Suguru is tilting his mask up to expose his lips and smashing them against yours. Unfortunately, his lips have always been your aphrodisiac and you can feel yourself growing aroused as his tongue forcefully swirls with yours, the metal ball of his piercing tickling your lips.
“Shit, she’s wet!” Choso gasps, his fingers becoming slick with you. Suguru smirks against your lips, giving your bottom lip a tug with his teeth. “That’s the freaky bitch I know,” he whispers. “Y’look so pretty like this, baby.” He leans down to kiss you once more, slowly and sloppily the way you enjoy. You moan in protest as he grips the back of your neck, keeping you against him. “Open that mouth up,” he demands.
When you don’t do it, he presses his knife against your throat, the ridges nearly slicing your skin. Your lips tremble as you open your mouth and he spits a gob of saliva onto your tongue. “Swallow.” You do so and he goes right back to kissing you down, bruising your lips with his in a possessive, rough kiss. “Fuck,” Choso groans. “I want some too. I’ve been dyin’ to kiss you for so long.”
He lets Suguru record him as he tilts his mask up to show his lips and kisses you too, taking his sweet time getting to know your mouth and your taste. His kiss is less rough but still possessive and desperate, drinking in everything you are forced to give him. You feel a lone tear drip down your cheek as he swirls his tongue against yours. You don’t want this. You don’t want this!
You think this can’t get any worse for you, but then Choso pulls out a blindfold and your heart sinks. “Relax, cutie pie,” he murmurs. “It ain’t nothin’ you ain’t used to. Geto told me all about the kinky shit you two do.”
“Please don’t,” you whimper but he fully ignores you, sliding the blindfold over your eyes. It grows wet from your tears, darkening your view of everything and everyone. You can’t even see the knife that Suguru uses to cut the straps to your bra off, making you gasp as cool air slides over your nipples, making them hardened peaks. You moan as you feel him pull your panties aside just as another blade skates over your thighs. “Chill out, mama,” he chuckles. “I’d never hurt you…not lethal, anyways.”
His thick fingers slide down your pussy lips, capturing your wetness. You sob to yourself, feeling betrayed by your own body. How can your pussy be wet over their kisses and touches? How can your body respond to this kind of treatment? “Taste yourself,” Suguru demands, sliding his digits slick with your wetness along your lips.
You begrudgingly do so, licking your bottom lip, and sucking on his fingers. He groans, retracting them and using them to slide beneath your panties, finally touching you. Choso captures your slutty moans and whimpers on camera, his hard cock pressing and rubbing against your thigh as he grinds his hips against you. You try to grit your teeth to stop the moans, but Suguru knows you inside out. He knows exactly what your pussy enjoys.
So when he begins to rub your clit in semi-circles, you nearly lose it. “Please!” you moan as Choso rubs your tits with one hand, stimulating you further. “Please what, baby?” your boyfriend asks, smirking. Be a good girl and tell me whatcha want.” You feel nothing short of humiliated and awful as need blooms inside you, making your body hot. “Taste me please,” you weakly beg.
Suguru and Choso laugh at your weakness, humiliating you further. Since your ankles are tied, Suguru lifts your legs up to eat your pussy that way and God, is it mind-numbing. Your brain goes completely blank as he slides his pierced tongue over your hot, wet pussy and clit, sucking on your lips and nuzzling his clit with his nose. Your man has always been fabulous at eating pussy and you’re horrified to find that he hasn’t changed.
You moan and writhe on the desk under the cellphone light, your most vulnerable and private moment recorded for the whole town as Ghostface goes down on you. “That’s it, take my tongue, mama,” Suguru softly growls, his rasped voice sending vibrations through your core. “Poor little girl is cryin’ for me.” He gives your pussy an open-mouthed kiss and pulls back to spit on it before slurping it all back up, making your toes curl and your eyes roll back behind your blindfold.
Zzzzip. “Tilt your head back,” Choso demands. “You don’t get to receive and not give. I want your mouth. And no. Teeth.” His knife presses against your tender throat, so close that you can feel the ridges of it grazing your skin. “You won’t like what happens if you don’t listen.”
Your lips wobble as you open your mouth, awaiting whatever he has in store for it. His thick cock slaps against your lips and chin before finally entering your mouth…and he doesn’t stop.
Choso’s cock sinks deeeeep down your throat, filling the tight tunnel with his thick, girthy shaft pierced at the tip with a silver ball. “Oh, fuck!” he groans. “Jesus, how do you not immediately blow your load down her throat?”
“Practice,” Suguru chuckles against your clit. “My baby knows how to give some good head. Now everyone will know too.” That’s right. You’re still on camera, getting your pussy eaten by a serial killer and sucking the fat dick of another.
You try to wiggle away, but Choso grabs your hair, forcing your mouth onto him. You gag around his cock as he brushes the back of your throat, drool spilling from your mouth. “Keep it there,” he grunts. “Take me deeper, slut. I know you know how to take dick like mine.” He smacks his hand against your cheek, each one giving you a sharp sting. “Look at that slutty ass face. If only you could see yourself.”
“Oh, she will,” Geto cackles. “‘Cause it’ll be all over the internet. Isn’t that great, baby? You’ll be a star.” He gives your pussy a long lick before dipping his tongue inside of you, his nose sliding along your clit as he fucks you with his pierced tongue. ‘No!’ you lament in your head. ‘I don’t want this!’ But even as you think this, your pussy tightens around Geto’s skillful, wicked tongue fucking you dumb on the desk. Your body has betrayed you.
Choso’s moans of pleasure don’t help your situation either–he sounds shockingly hot as he fucks your mouth off of its hinges, making your jaw ache and your throat stretch. His cock plunges in and out of you, pounding your mouth like it’s a fleshlight. Finally, you feel something tighten in your core like a knot as Suguru moans into your pussy, still sloppily eating you. “I’m gonna cum!” you moan around Choso’s cock. “Please, Sugu, make me cum!”
You can’t help yourself. Your body yearns for it. If you don’t cum, you feel as if you may die.
“Nice beggin’, baby,” your boyfriend praises you. “Cum for me then. I give you permission, baby girl. Give it all to me.” He goes on licking, slurping, and sucking, forcing you to reach that peak.
Your back nearly arches off of the desk as you cum, shivering and bucking your hips into Suguru’s face. Choso groans as he watches, your lips clamping around him as you cream all over the desk and your boyfriend’s tongue. “Still my good girl,” he sighs, pecking you on the clit. You twitch, overstimulated and sensitive.
“F-Fuck, that almost made me bust,” Choso groans. He slides his cock out of your mouth, giving you a chance to breathe, and wetly smacks it across your face. “You’re so pretty, cutie pie. How are you this fuckin’ pretty?” He slides himself back in, still fucking your throat raw from the constant forced stimulation.
There is a sudden ding and Suguru begins to laugh. “Oh, look, more views!” he announces. “We’re at about 5k now. Let’s give ‘em somethin’ to really thrill ‘em.” Five thousand viewers?! That’s not possible–there are only a couple hundred in your town…which means these are views from nonlocals. People all over the country are watching now. ‘Oh, fuck,’ you lament in your head.
And now five thousand people are about to watch Choso aka Ghostface #2 pound your pussy against the desk. “Just let me take her pussy this time, G, c’mon,” he groans. “I’m so close to bustin’ a fat load down her throat.” And he is; you can feel his cock throbbing in your throat the more he fucks it, making spit drip down your tits and chin.
“So you want it in her pussy instead?” Suguru chuckles. “Just be gentle with her. It’s my job to be rough with her.” Your boyfriend is usually very possessive over you. He would never let another man even look at you, let alone think about having another cock fuck and cum inside of you. How can he allow this?
Choso slides his cock out of your mouth with a groan and suddenly, he vanishes, but Suguru takes his place. “Let’s get this shit off,” he growls, snatching the blindfold off. You blink a few times, letting your vision adjust, before you’re staring up into the handsome face of your boyfriend. Choso is busy recording your wet pussy for your audience so Suguru’s identity is still protected.
“Hi, baby,” he coos, smiling at you. “You ready to see how it feels to fuck a serial killer?” You don’t answer, unsure of how to. Suguru keeps his mask up to show his face to you as Choso passes him the phone. He directs the lens at you, filling the screen with your mascara-stained cheeks and saliva-slick lips. “Do me a favor and look at the camera. I want everybody to see you take Ghostface’s cock.”
He then slides his mask back over his face and leans the phone against a chair sitting across from the desk, flipping it so the screen faces all three of you. You see yourself stretched out and tied up along the desk, your eyes full of terror.
You begin to panic as Choso lifts your tied ankles up, placing your legs in the air. You feel his thick cock slap against your asscheeks, drenching himself in your wetness. “W-Wait a sec–ah!” you gasp, your protest cut off when you feel Choso’s thick cock sliding inside of you. At the same time, Suguru smacks his hard cock up against your lips, heavy and thick. “Let’s get this other hole filled now,” he grunts before pushing himself in your mouth.
Both Ghostfaces moan in ecstasy while you’re resorted to groaning in absolute humiliation and unwanted, forced pleasure. You hate the way your pussy clenches around Choso’s cock as he begins to rock his hips, sliding his cock in and out you, the camera catching the way your sticky lips cling to his shaft. “Oh, God!” he wails to the ceiling, his head tilted back as he slowly pumps himself inside of you. “Oh, fuck, yes! Right there!”
Suguru laughs as he listens to your coworker enjoy your pussy, causing the desk to begin to creak. “What a simp,” he chuckles behind his mask, groaning as he forces his dick down your throat. You gag, trying to pull away but his hand gripping the back of your neck stops you, forcing you to take him. “Does his cock feel good, baby? You like serial killer dick, don’t you?”
“Mmmmph!” you moan around his cock, your lips clamped around him. Saliva drips from your mouth down your chin, causing your mouth to grow extra wet. It allows Suguru to fuck your throat as fast and rough as he pleases. He shivers at the sound of those wet gags and suction sounds escaping you, staring down at you through his mask. “Thaaat’s it,” he moans. “I love those sounds, mama. Keep ‘em up.”
You have no idea if he means the wet gagging as his cock plunges deep down your throat or the screams you’re making around his dick as Choso fucks you harder and faster on the desk. You had no idea your coworker was so big—he practically stretches you as he pounds your pussy on the desk, bullying himself inside you with every thrust. “Just like that, cutie! Fuckin’ take me! Take that dick!”
You have no choice in the matter, even the way your body grows hot and tingly as your pussy grips him, your G-spot unfortunately enjoying the stimulation its receiving. “You’re doin’ so well, baby,” Sugruu moans. “You’re such a good slut for us.”
He chuckles, glancing at the screen through his mask. You can tell he’s smiling. “How’s it feel to get your big break, huh? ‘Local newsreporter fucks Ghostface killers’.” He pauses, cackling in a way that makes your skin crawl and your heart pound. “What a headline!”
Then he grips your throat as he continues to pump his cock in your throat. Unfortunately, you’ve always enjoyed this, even as fat tears drip down your face when he presses a knife to the side of your cheek. “God, she tightened up!” Choso grunts, fucking you harder, his fingers digging into your hips. “I’mma cum soon! C-Can’t hold on much longer!”
“Give it to her then,” Suguru demands. “Cum deep inside her. Breed that little slut, C.”
Choso goes harder, faster, nailing your pussy again and again, causing an unwanted orgasm to bubble to the surface. His moans have grown high-pitched and loud, masking the sound of Sugru’s moans and the desk creaking beneath you. “I’m gonna cum, cutie,” he gasps. “Cum with me! I-I’m gonna…gonna…oh, fuck!”
He lets out a groan that pierces through his mask and fills the office as the warm gush of cum explodes from his cock and surges inside of your pussy. Unfortunately, his orgasm and rough thrusts trigger your own end and you whine around Suguru’s cock as you gush around Choso, your walls instinctively clenching and flexing around him. It is unwanted and completely against your will but the explosive sparks you feel coarse through you are all the same.
Suguru releases your throat and gently runs the knife down your cheek to your chin all the way down your breasts to your navel. “Oooh, that looked like a strong one,” he chuckles. “Zoom in on her pussy, C. Give the audience a look at that load.”
Choso, softly panting, grabs the phone and zooms in on your soaked, dripping pussy. Hiding behind the phone, he pulls off his mask, allowing for him to wipe the sweat from his forehead and breath freely. “Thank you, pretty girl,” he murmurs, giving your pussy a kiss. “You were even better than I thought you’d be.”
You twitch in response, wanting to kick at him, but your ankles are still tied.
Suguru finally slides out of your mouth, allowing you to cough and breathe through your mouth now. “My turn now. Flip that ass around, baby.” You can’t do it yourself, so the two have to carry you off of the desk and flip you around so you can bend over across it. Suguru forces you into his favorite position: face down, ass up.
Tap-tap-tap. Suguru taps his big, hard cock against your asscheeks, right as Choso holds the phone in front of you. “Look at the camera, baby,” Suguru directs. “Give everybody a good look at that pretty, slutty face.” Weakly, you look up at the screen to see the Ghostface killer mounting a disheveled, broken vessel of a woman who looks fucked out of her mind. Her hair is a mess, her mascara is running like clown makeup down her cheeks, her nylons are in tatters against her legs, and her skirt is hiked up to expose her ass and dripping pussy to the thousands of viewers watching her.
That woman is you. You almost can’t believe it. Before you can lament on it more, Suguru steals every thought in your head when his tip pries open the sticky, wet lips of your pussy. Your mouth falls slack into an O as he slides in deep, bottoming out inside of you after a few slow thrusts that make your eyelids flutter.
Suguru grips your hips and yanks you back, his thighs pressed flush against the desk as he slides his cock in and out of you. “That’s my girl,” he grunts. “Take my dick. You know just how to do it, don’t you?” Choso smirks behind the phone, his cock hardening between his thighs at the sight. “Fuck her harder, G. I wanna see her get knocked up.”
Some of your mind seems to come back when Choso utters those words. “W-What?!” you shriek. You look back at Suguru who laughs, smiling behind his mask. “That’s right, mama: I’m about to make you a real mama now. You’re gonna carry our little baby.”
Your mind spins as he begins to speed up his thrusts, slipping into a rhythm that makes you gasp and moan as he rearranges your insides. You had talked to Suguru about having kids before, but only when you were married! You can only slump down onto the desk, your cheek pressed against the wood, as your hole is taken without any say from you.
Suguru’s thrusts grow harder and rougher, his breaths coming out in groans and grunts as he bullies his dick inside of you over and over again. Soon, the desk starts to move and your tits jiggle crazily against it with the force of his fucking. “Su-Su…W-Wait!” you wail. “Ha, oh, God…s-slow down! Oh, fuck, please! I-I can’t…oh, shit!” Your words are a jumbled mess, barely audible.
“Nah,” he huffs. He yanks you back so your ass is pressed flush against him, causing his cock to sink in deeeep. “Don’t run from it, baby,” he grunts as you squirm around his cock, only making it better for him. “You can’t escape this. This is what you wanted, after all. Be grateful.”
You practically scream as he ruts into you, fucking you in a way your boyfriend never did. This is rough. This is possessive. This is about showing you what happens when you fuck around and find out. “This is your big break, cutie pie!” Choso chuckles from behind the phone. “Enjoy it. We’re makin’ you famous now.”
As he zooms in on your face, Suguru begins to fuck you even harder, faster, using your ass as leverage to pull you into his cock over and over again. Your eyes begin to roll back behind your head, your eyelids fluttering weakly, making you look as if you’re high as a kite from the cock plunging deep inside of you.
Suguru leans in over you, tilting his mask up slightly so he can suck on your earlobe. “Tell me you love me,” he grunts. “Say it to me now.” He paws at your tits, rubbing them in time with his thrusts.
As your third orgasm rises, you grow desperate, your body making you act completely against your pride and will. “I-I love you!” you sob, tears prickling your eyes. “I love you so fuckin’ much!” They drip down your cheeks in salty streams to which Suguru licks up for you. “I love you too, baby,” he whispers. “You have no idea how much.”
He eases up on the roughness of his fucking but keeps his strokes fast and deep, knocking the air out of you. “This isn’t the end for us,” he pants in your ear. “Even if I go to prison, when I get out, I’m gonna come back for you. We’ll be a family.”
You can only whimper in response as you feel your next orgasm coming, about to hit you like a tidal wave for the audience behind the phone screen. “Beg me to cum,” Suguru demands. “Say ‘Please, Mr. Ghostface, let me cum for you’.”
You are completely in his control now, so you do it, abandoning all self control and self will. “I’m gonna cum!” you scream, drool pooling from your mouth and onto the desk below. “Please let me cum on your cock, Mr. Ghostface!”
That is all Suguru needs to hear to begin fucking you roughly again, taking you on a very bumpy ride as he chases his orgasm. “Do it for me, baby! Scream for us!” he bellows, his moans growing louder and intense, mixing with yours.
When your third orgasm of the night hits, it’s one that is intense and hard, hitting you dead like a truck. Your body pulses and throbs as you cream all over Suguru’s cock. In response, he digs his fingers into your ass and cums too, groaning as he fills you with all of his creamy spunk. It combines with Choso’s load and drips down your thighs, sliding all the way to the floor.
Suguru picks your head up from the desk and catches your drool with his tongue, giving you a sloppy kiss on the mouth. “That’s my girl,” he whispers.
Choso smiles as he passes Suguru the phone, letting him end the livestream. “5k views. Not bad.” He stares down at you, gently stroking your backside that Suguru covers in droplets of spunk from his cock as he spears his tip all over your cheeks. “She definitely has the makings of a great actress. Such a pretty final girl.”
You just lie there against the desk, your knees weak and buckling against your weight. You slump against the desk, breathing hard, coated in sweat, cum, and humiliation. Your eyes flutter closed as exhaustion hits you, making your brain foggy and your muscles tired. These two psychopaths have fucked you into oblivion.
Suguru gently scoops you into his arms and tenderly strokes your forehead as he sits in Detective Higurama’s chair, holding you close. He gently kisses you as your head lulls against him. “Nighty night, baby,” he murmurs against your lips. “When you wake up, everything will be alright. You’ll see.”
You can’t even speak–exhaustion grips you, making you sink deeper and deeper into darkness. And then you pass out. When you awaken, you’re somewhere unfamiliar…or are you?
You are in the dark so you can’t make out your surroundings too well, but you can tell that you’re sitting on a soft mattress and the curtains are drawn. You blindly reach around for a lamp and find it, flicking it on. When a golden light drenches the room, you realize that you’re in your bedroom. You recognize it by the robin’s egg-blue walls and hardwood floors.
You are also in your work clothes from earlier except for your pumps and stockings. You take a moment to recuperate, your head throbbing. How did you get here? Did Suguru and Choso take you home? Remembering the serial killers that used you up just moments before, you look around in a panic but you don’t see them. Where could they be? How can you be here? What happened to the photo and the livestream?
Before your mind can travel even farther, the aroma of frying eggs and cooking batter fill your nose. Slowly, you rise out of bed and pad across the floor to the hall. You hear the sound of soft R&B playing from the kitchen as you walk downstairs, putting one foot after the other. When you make it to the last stair, you find a man standing in your kitchen at the stove shirtless in sweats. The black ink on his back flexes with his muscles as he flips a pancake over in a pan, his hair pinned up into a perfect bun.
“Suguru?” you weakly ask.
He turns to see you standing behind him and smiles that bright smile that your boyfriend always has. “Hey, baby!” he greets. “Mornin’! You finally woke up.” He places a plate full of miniature pancakes on the counter before walking over to you in his polo socks and slides.
You blink, confused. “W-What happened?” you stammer. “Where’s Choso?” Suguru raises his pierced eyebrow at you. “Choso?” he parrots, confused. “Your work buddy? He went out last night according to his IG. I’m shocked you didn’t go.”
His words slowly process in your sluggish brain still foggy from sleep. That can’t be true…can it? Choso was there in Detective Higurama’s office with you and Suguru. Your boyfriend watches you, silently freaked out, as you look around your apartment in utter confusion.
“How did I get here?” you ask.
“Oh, that,” he sighs and you mentally prepare yourself for the horrible truth “You stopped answering your phone so I came to get you at work.” He takes your hands in his, kissing your knuckles. “You were passed out at your desk, exhausted. I drove you home. Choso came back to the office and drove your car here this morning while you slept.”
You stare at him blankly, slowly feeling like you’re going insane. “Huh?” you whisper to yourself, confused. That can’t be right! You swore that last night happened and ended with you filled with serial killer spunk live in front of thousands of people!
Suguru lays a hand on your shoulder, a crease appearing between his pinched brows. “Hey, you alright?” he worriedly asks. “You look so pale. I knew you shouldn’t have worked late.”
You don’t say anything as you try to rake your brain for something–anything–that will prove that you’re not fucking crazy. Anything that will root these “memories” you have in reality.
But instead, you give in to your boyfriend’s words and chalk it up to just that: working late. And your exhaustion and the strain caused you to have a horrible, awful dream. “I just…had a bad dream,” you decide, your mouth dry and stomach churning. “Just a nightmare.”
Yes, just a nightmare. You hope you sound convincing enough to not only Suguru but to yourself. Your beautiful man smiles and presses a kiss to your forehead as he holds you close, smelling of pancake batter and your favorite body wash, fresh and earthy. “Well, you can tell me all about it over coffee,” he coos. “Now sit down and relax; food’s almost ready.”
He leads you over to the kitchen island to sit while he walks back into the kitchen. You skip the coffee and pour yourself some orange juice instead to soothe your parched throat. You look around the kitchen and your apartment, breathing in and out. Inhaling and exhaling. All is well. All is okay. Your career is safe.
“Oh, and, baby?” Suguru calls. He stands at the stove again, pouring some batter into the buttery pan.
“Yeah?” you ask with a small smile.
“For the record, we didn’t livestream that video to the news. All those views were bots.” He gives you a smirk that sends shivers down your spine and makes your smile fall straight off of your face.
He turns to you, eyes cold and that wicked smirk still on his face. “But if you keep actin’ up, that video may just make you a real star, news girl. Now how’s that for a story?”
as ghostface… except he’s your introverted bf ⋆｡°✩
“i don’t think i should be here,” choso murmurs, low and soft beside your ear as you readjust his mask for the hundredth time. he looked like a sulking child, shoulders hunched a little as he crouches to make it easier for you.
“you’re being dramatic. we just got here.” you laugh at his huffy sigh. despite clearly disliking the place, he enjoys the soft feeling of your hands on his face. “mhm… and i wanna leave already.”
he’s shirtless, ghostface mask fastened over his face and tattoos running up the side of his arms. his abs are toned and on full display under dim lights.
you find it amusing that he looks like that, yet he insists on following you around like an overly attached puppy.
his hand gently rests on your waist as you walk through the crowd of partygoers, some passed out and most reeking of alcohol. you can already imagine the way his face scrunches up in disdain.
choso follows you wordlessly as you speak to the other guests, ignoring the slight discomfort on your friends’ faces as he lurks beside you like a second shadow.
“oh, this must be choso!” one of them smiles, holding out their hand for him to shake. he awkwardly accepts it.
“yeah,” he says.
their eyes rove over his revealed skin, and he shifts uncomfortably.
“ghostface, right? it looks good on you!”
“thanks.” he shoves his hand back into his pocket.
silence.
he definitely looked the part, but he couldn’t act it to save his life.
once they leave, he turns to you, confused. “did i do something wrong?”
you smile, amused that your 6 feet tall, tatted, and absolutely shredded boyfriend in a ghostface costume struggles with regular conversations.
“no, not at all. should we head to the drinks booth?”
he nods, taking your hand in his like it was as natural as breathing.
“lead the way.”
koaflower ᥫ᭡.
a/n. happy halloween! thank you einruji07 for the food n inspo 😮💨 i need him so bad its not even funny.
summary. there's a masked serial killer on the loose. you're invited to a halloween party. what could go wrong?
spoiler: everything.
tags. ghostface!choso, smut, p in v, dub-con, little to no foreplay (sorry), blood, knife play, big dick choso, unprotected sex, dirty talk, degradation, a little belly bulging, choso puts the hot in psychotic basically.
word count. 4k
note: this is an edited version of my original work, i've added a few details and corrected some mistakes. i hope you enjoy it!
also on ao3
It was a really, really bad decision.
I mean, going out to a Halloween party? When there’s a serial killer on the loose waiting for his new victim?
Yeah, no thanks.
Rejecting that invitation and saving your ass from getting slashed would be a no brainer. The sanest decision to be ever made by anyone. But why does saying no to your friends seem way worse than that? Has your life actually got to the point that the risk of getting murdered is more preferable than social rejection?
Well…yes, and that’s why you agreed on attending this party.
Your eyes set on the news broadcast playing on your television. A new victim of the Ghostface found stabbed to death in town.
Ghostface. His name was all over the news, the newspapers and the internet this past month. The people gave him that name after some witness testimonies came out claiming to have seen a ghostly white screaming mask and a black cloak. The police even found a mask left behind in one of the crime scenes, confirming his appearance.
He had already killed five people this month, nothing linked them to each other beyond the way they were murdered. The authorities said that he likes to stalk them before he goes after them, just for the thrill of the hunt.
You sighed as you turned off the TV, opting for keeping your thoughts far away from that psycho and resuming to do your make up in peace, only the gentle hum of your playlist playing through your speaker keeping you company inside your dorm. Tonight you were dressed as an angel.
Such a cliché. But it was the easiest costume you could think of only using your clothes, and it actually came out looking very good. A white bustier, white fishnets and the tiniest white shorts that didn’t even cover up half of your ass cheeks. You just had to buy the halo and the wings to match.
You scan yourself — everything looks like it’s supposed to look, nothing out of place — before going out. You didn’t want to bring a purse, it wouldn’t match with the look. The only stuff you were going to take were your phone on your hand and your lip combo snuggly fit inside your bra.
With ‘this better be good’ as your last thought before grabbing the door knob, you exited your dorm and went to meet your friends.
The town used to feel so alive during Halloween. Families trick-or-treating, kids dressed up as their favourite things running around, grown-ups going out to party. It used to be so fun.
But now the streets are almost empty. The family-friendly-hour guarded by police is over and everything closed due to the curfew. There were only the few dumb brave ones defying fear and going out to party. You included.
Maybe it was the news-induced paranoia playing with your susceptibility or something, but on your way to the meeting point you arranged with your friends you couldn’t help but walk twice your normal speed. It was like a creeping anxiety fueling your speed, making you feel like someone was following you. Which is crazy, because every time you looked back there was nothing but empty streets and a couple of cars driving by.
You wished you took an uber instead of walking those five blocks, but since it was so close you didn’t feel like spending the money you could use for something more important.
The lingering feeling of danger simmered down when you reached your friends.
“Finally!” groaned Nobara when she saw you. She was wearing a bloody sexy nurse costume. “We’ve been waiting for soooo long,” she said as she hooked her arm with yours and pulled you closer.
“We only waited for like—five minutes, by the way,” chuckled Maki on your other side, she was dressed as a sexy black cat. Internally, you sigh with relief as no one was creative with the costumes this year.
“It’s still too long!” argued back the brunette. “A lot of fun stuff can happen in five minutes, and we’re missing it!”
“Sorry, Kugisaki,” your reply was half apology and half joking. You actually didn’t care about what you were missing out before you even got there, but you knew she did. “It’s kind of hard to run with these heels.”
Your friend shrugged it off with a smile and changed the subject. You kept walking with your arms hooked to both of them.
The alcohol had already started affecting you. You felt like your brain was spinning inside your skull as you made your way into the upstairs bathroom of the frat house. The first thing you did upon entering was to splash your face with cold water, the next was to look up at your reflection.
Your make up had barely smudged — thank you waterproof setting spray — and your cheeks were flushed from the uncountable tequila shots.
The party wasn’t so bad, but as you expected from the beginning, your friends ditched you the moment you stepped inside the house. You didn’t know why they insisted you go with them if they were gonna disappear from your sight the entire night. Thankfully you knew some people there, or else you were gonna stay with your back pressed to the wall until everyone left.
You hung out with the cute frat guys for a while, playing beer pong and chatting, until one of them — the tall white-haired hottie dressed as a devil — grabbed you and pulled you into the dancefloor. There, between the flirty looks and the grinding, you drank from every single shot he handed you. You just couldn’t resist those piercing blue puppy eyes.
But now, inside that bathroom and looking at your reflection, you couldn’t help but scoff at these people—and you—pretending to mask their fear with loud music and alcohol. Like this whole thing wasn’t a huge ‘Free victims. Come in.’ neon sign for that psycho. You rolled your eyes at the thought.
However, any critical thinking about your peers and your current situation was interrupted when a large figure entered the same bathroom you were in.
“Hey, it’s occupied,” you scolded through slurred words, your tongue felt heavy inside your mouth.
Your eyes scanned the intruder through the mirror’s reflection. A cold sweat pooled on the back of your neck. He was dressed as Ghostface. You swallowed hard when you saw that white mask staring at you through hollow eyes with his head tilted.
It was clear that this was someone with a very twisted sense of humour, who had dressed up as the killer from the news, even covering himself with fake blood and everything. Still, you couldn’t not feel intimidated by that ghostly figure.
“Didn’t you hear me?” you questioned, rising a brow. “Its. Occupied.” you repeated, a little annoyed now.
You were about to turn around and leave this idiot alone when the figure grabbed your hair and forced you back into your original position - in front of the mirror, hips resting against the marble counter, a slight stinging sensation where his gloved hand had your hair. You didn’t know what to do, you were so shocked by the audacity of that person you couldn’t find the words to yell at him.
The figure shook his head.
Your eyebrow was raised again. Your drunk brain was trying to figure out what the hell he wanted from you. For a moment you glanced at the reflection and the imaginary light bulb on top of your head lit up.
“What? You wanna play psycho killer?” you asked with a crooked smile. The way you, dressed up as a slutty angel, and him, dressed as a masked killer, looked in the mirror gave you that ‘oh’ moment of lucidity and understood what he wanted. Maybe it was the alcohol in your system or that thing you had for masks, but you weren’t against this roleplay.
The figure nodded, answering your question.
“Can I be the helpless victim?” you joked, your voice innocent and airy, looking at him with your best doe eyes and pouty smile.
He nodded again.
His hand—that was still holding your hair—exerted force on your head until you were bent over the counter. Your arched back lifted your half-naked ass higher, the smooth white fabric barely covering it, making the masked man leave a muffled sigh under his mask.
The Ghostface didn’t lose time. The cold air in the room clashed with your bare skin as he got rid of the minimal clothing covering you with urge. You felt your nipples harden against the marble, drawing gasps from your trembling throat that sounded like music to the mysterious man.
Lust filled the air. The hard chest of the masked man rested on top of your naked back, both of your breaths were connected by the uncontrollable desire. You started to excitedly wonder what could happen next, how rough would it be, what could be his next move? Despite the fear building up inside your stomach, the wet heat running down your thighs encouraged you to continue.
The tearing sound of your fishnets made you shudder, and the cold metal touch of what you thought was a blade sent shivers down your spine. The bastard sliced your underwear off. Now the only thing protecting your bare pussy from his growing bulge was the fabric of his robe and his jeans.
His bulge rubbed slowly against you, so slow it was torturous, the friction sending flashes of pleasure to your lower belly. You didn’t want him to stop; his rhythm was delicious enough to make the black fabric even darker with your juices.
The Ghostface only let out ragged breaths, although his gaze wasn’t noticeable in the mirror that was reflecting the vulgar expressions on your face, inside that hood he was savouring the obscene angle he had you on—your ass shaped like a heart from his point of view.
His gloved fingers forced their way into your mouth without warning, seeking the lubrication your saliva could provide. The combination of the leather taste and your frothy saliva tingled your taste buds. There was a certain synchronization with the fake thrusts he made into your mouth and the friction against your cunt.
His other hand grabbed your hair again and pulled you hard so you could see yourself better how he caressed your pussy lips with his lubed fingers, playing with your folds, feeling how they got wetter with those sweet juices you were leaking. Your mouth gaped when you felt his fingers entering your cunt so slowly it was almost cruel. It didn’t take much time until he was digging his digits inside those gummy walls of yours.
“Hmmph, fuck.” your whimpers got louder, but you were sure that the music blasting outside the bathroom was muffling the lewd sounds escaping from your mouth. So you let yourself loosen up, you were getting fingered by a stranger in a bathroom after all, one dressed as a serial killer. There was no place for inhibition anymore.
The mask had a voice modifier inside, you hadn’t noticed before with his deep sighs, but now it was picking up his louder grunts and morphing them into a robotic sound. He tilted his head again, just like the slashers did in the movies, staring at your facial expressions, you were enjoying his fingers abusing your cunt so much. If only you could see how his eyes darkened.
The movements of his fingers stopped after a few minutes because then, without any warning, he found his way inside you again—this time with his cock. The stretch of his girth burned as he buried himself into you. You opened your mouth with a slacked jaw, eyes closed shut as you tried to take the ridiculous size of that cock and not fall apart in the process.
“Hmm, look at you, doll.” growled the man behind you, the modified voice coating your ears like honey. “Who would’ve thought that you’d get so turned on being like this,” he sounded out of breath, taking your mewls as encouragement as he began to rock his hips against your cheeks abruptly.
A wet slapping sound began to fill the room as he fucked you against the counter. The marble edge painfully digged into your hips but you couldn’t care less, the way his length felt inside of you cancelled any uncomfortable feelings. With each thrust your body shoved forward and made your tits jiggle.
“I’m gonna show you what good little sluts like you deserve,” he muttered, holding your hips tightly. “Gonna fuck this tight pussy with my big cock.”
You bit your lip and moaned, his words only fueling the heat inside you and dripping slick into his cock. You weren’t used to his moves; any trace of vanilla had disappeared the moment he exercised that cruel power over you. Your voice started to wear out and your thoughts were so tangled that you couldn’t form a straight answer, limiting yourself to just whine and cry just like he described—like his good little slut.
He was a vulgar and obscene entity that just released your deepest and darkest desires with just the sound of his distorted voice and the heavenly thrusts of his hips.
Your eyelids felt heavy, you couldn’t help but close them for a second, which earned you a hard slap on your ass that, by judging how bad it stinged, would definetly leave a mark.
“Don’t fucking close your eyes,” he cursed through what sounded like gritted teeth. His hand grabbed you by the chin and forced you to look at yourself in the mirror. He never stopped pounding you. “Look at yourself. Look how much of a whore you’re being to a complete stranger,” he was right, your hair was messy and your cheeks were flushed with desire, some of your lipstick smudged around your mouth from before making them look twice as big. “What would your little boyfriend say, huh? Would he like to know that a killer is filling up his girl?”
He probably said that referring to the frat guy you were dancing with hours ago. You shook your head. “No boyfriend,” was the only thing you could manage to reply with his hand still gripping your face. Your brain began to shut down from so much brutality and overstimulation.
“Heh, really now?” he sounded excited after your answer. His hand left your chin. “Then, nothing could stop me from doing this,” he said, and the next thing you felt apart from his cock hammering inside of you was the sharp blade on his hand piercing its way into your soft skin. The hot pain of his weapon cutting on the flesh of your ass mixed with the pleasure of his thrusts melted your brain away until there was nothing left but incoherent babbling.
His hand caressed the fresh wound before traveling to your bare chest, staining the soft flesh crimson red. The hunting knife went up to your neck and rested on your jugular, the pace of his hips began to speed up and you thought you could die from the way his tip was hitting your sweet spot. Until now you didn’t know that you liked danger so much, because the stinging of your cut and the sharp blade deathly close to your neck should have made you scared, instead you were getting wetter by the second.
A subtle bulge started to form on your lower belly. You could see through the mirror how his length reached places in you no other dick had explored before.
“Fuuuuck,” the man exhaled a deep groan that sounded almost animalistic despite the robotic modification. “Just look at you, such a mess,” the silicone mask caressed your cheek as he rested his face on your shoulder, the deliciously intense scent of cologne invaded your nostrils. His hand still held the knife to your neck, the other grabbed both of your arms behind your back and kept your body straight and slightly arched so you had a better view. “I’m gonna ruin you,” he promised, or threatened. “Gonna make you cum so hard, no other than me will fuck you this good. There’s no dick out there that could abuse this pussy like mine.”
Your head was spinning. You were all over the place. The overstimulation and his dirty talk that sounded threatening were bubbling up in your lower abdomen and you were oh so desperate to reach your climax.
“Gonna make you mine, gonna fill you up.”
Your hips were hitting hard against the bathroom counter, your breasts bounced with each thrust and your mouth was slack jawed and letting any sound come out. Your gaze showed both pleasure and fear. Despite currently getting the fuck of your life, you were still uncertain of making it out alive…and that made it fun, actually.
His hand let your arms go. You watched as it grabbed his mask and took off the plastic material that was keeping you from knowing who was fucking you.
It wasn’t enough to say he was the most attractive man you’d ever seen in your life.
Straight, shoulder-length hair, tired eyes surrounded by violet shadows that revealed sleepless nights, and a striking mark or tattoo running across his cheeks and nose bridge. His porcelain-like skin couldn’t hide the rosy flush that softened his otherwise sharp and intimidating features.
His lips curled into a crooked smirk when your whines stopped upon seeing his face. “Like what you see, angel?”
The deepness of his true voice shook you to your core and made you weak in the knees. He didn’t give you time to answer the obvious ‘yes!’ your brain wanted to scream, he just grabbed you by the hair and pulled you into a filthy kiss, all spit and teeth and fighting tongues. You let out a tiny mewl when his teeth bit hard on your lower lip, so hard it left you with a metallic taste after he broke away from the kiss, only a thin thread of pink-ish saliva connecting your mouths.
“Couldn’t help myself, just want to devour those lips.”
You felt like your insides were being abused by his length, like you were just a toy, your gushing cunt already feeling full of him even though he was giving you lazy half-thrusts. The few moments when he decided to punish you and thrust in full made you dizzy. Through the mirror, you could notice his gaze fixated on the way his cock disappeared into your warm walls.
His hands hovered over the end of your waist, drawing invisible lines along the curves of your hips, while he kept spitting the most vulgar and purely depraved things into your ears. You watched as his eyes rolled back into his skull whenever your pussy clenched and tightened around his shaft whenever he said something dirty, and the way he thrusted back with mouth-watering force made your eyes roll too.
You were a hundred percent sure that the people outside the bathroom were hearing your moans by now, but you couldn’t help it, you were approaching your long-awaited orgasm and you felt the hot knot in your lower abdomen loosening and sending electricity through your nervous system. Your walls were hugging his cock so tight, as if your pussy didn’t want to let him go now that you were about to cum.
“Shit, you’re practically swallowing me,” groaned the handsome stranger.
“I’m gonna cum,” you whined, furrowing your brows and focusing on that feeling so you could reach over the edge of your climax.
He leaned over you, pressing his chest to your naked back and angling you forward. He was looking into your eyes through the mirror, a wicked smirk on his face.
“Yeah? Gonna cum on my cock?” he mumbled into your ear, hot breath caressing the inside, leaving you with a tingling sensation. Ween his only answer was a strangled moan, he clicked his tongue and grabbed you by the crown of your hair, the new angle pushing you even more towards the edge. “Answer, slut. You gonna cum on my cock? You gonna be m’little whore and let me cum inside you?”
You nodded your head, the best you could with his hand still on your hair. “Yeah, want you to cum in me, please fill my pussy,” you whimpered, almost sobbed, begging for your release.
“Then cum for me, angel.”
The moment didn’t take long, a couple more thrusts into you and that was it, his seed was filling you up and, at the same time, yours was coating his length; both mixing inside of you, spilling out and running down your thighs. The proof of your affair was now staining your shorts and dripping on the floor.
Then, the stranger pulled out and—without saying anything—started to zip his jeans and ip on the mask again. You stopped him, not even bothering to pull up your shorts.
“What’s your name?” you asked. You didn’t want to lose the opportunity of seeing him again. Mind blowing fuck or not, he was beautiful and your still foggy mind thought he looked familiar. Besides, he must go to the same college as you, given it was a frat party.
He just shook his head, smirk still intact on his handsome face. He put on his mask and softly grabbed your face by the chin.
“Ghostface.”
You rolled your eyes at his joke. “Well, Mr. Ghostface…will I ever see you again?”
His hand left your chin to travel to the loose strand of hair over your forehead, tucking it behind your ear. “Soon, angel.”
And then he left, the silence after the door shut was deafening, your ears ringing and your mind left spinning. You looked at yourself again—smudged make up, sweaty and your hair a mess. You turned and looked at your back, your body was stained red by the fake blood he had on his cloak. Your eyes traveled down to your ass, where he had cut you moments before, your cheeks were red and stained with your own blood, but it was like a superficial cut, nothing serious.
You couldn’t help but notice that he carved a ‘C’ on your left cheek.
When you finally pull yourself together and decide to leave the bathroom, the first thing you encounter is straight out of a horror movie.
A body was lying on the floor, a guy slumped against the wall opposite the bathroom door, blood staining his clothes and the wall behind him. You clapped a hand over your mouth, fighting the urge to vomit. You dashed down the stairs to find your friends and alert the frat guys to call the police, but the scene in the living room was even worse.
Three bodies were there. One guy and two girls. The two girls were seated on the couch, almost as if the killer posed them, their blood turning the cream-colored fabric a deep scarlet- The guy laid face down on the floor, his blood pooling around him. The music continued playing, its upbeat rhythm and trendy lyrics felt like a mock to the gruesome scene.
You felt sick to your stomach, wanting to puke, cry and scream, but you couldn’t. You were frozen on the last step of the stairs.
As you hear a siren in the distance and the house slowly bathes in the blue and red lights, your eyes locked onto a sticky note on the front door. You carefully walked over and read it.
★ ⋮ SUMMARY. It's been weeks since the Frat Party Massacre and you've been waiting for the Ghostface to keep his promise to come back. What you didn't expect was him bringing along a friend.
★ ⋮ TAGS. pwp, ghostface!choso, ghostface!geto, threesome, predator/prey, knife play, dub con, recording while having sex, fingering, dry humping, slapping, humiliation, boot humping, blowjobs, unprotected sex, spitroasting, rough sex, mentions of the dark web and snuff films, being recorded without consent (at first)
★ ⋮ WORDS. 5k
FIRST PART HERE
note/warning: this fic will contain or mention dark themes which i obviously don't support irl or without consent, it's just part of the characters since they are slashers. if you're not comfortable with it, please don't read.
also, even though the reader doesn't know their names until the end, i will be naming them so it's easier to understand who is doing what.
The grainy image in the camera’s preview was of you. You were pacing back and forth inside your bedroom, your phone lit up your face as you focused on whatever you were doing. The angle was off, kind of tilted, and the doors of your closet were taking up most of the frame. You were wearing just a pair of lacy panties and a black baby tee, such a sinfully sexy pajama. Every time you turned your back to him, he would shamelessly zoom in on your ass, his breath heaving underneath his mask.
Choso just couldn’t take it anymore. He’s been recording you from inside your room for a while now, looking for the perfect moment to strike…it had to be now, when you were busy texting someone with a little smirk on your face. Before he could open the door, he paused. You angled your arm high up and lightly squeezed your breast over your shirt, then you took a picture. Choso chuckled internally — such a slutty girl, sending nudes when you have company?
That’s when he came out of his hiding spot, sliding the door and stepping out with the camera still recording. “I really hope those pics are for me, babygirl,” sighed Choso, his voice distorted by the modulator inside the mask.
You turned to him, shocked. Your body froze, and your mouth and eyes opened wide at the sight of him. At the sight of Ghostface once again. He tilted his head, waving his knife as a way of greeting you. “Or else I would feel really hurt.” You couldn’t see him, but it was clear from the way he talked that he was pouting.
・・・・・
What was he doing here? How did he find your new place? How did he enter your house without you noticing? How long has he been here?
All those questions flew through your mind in milliseconds, fear and confusion washing over your body like a bucket of cold water. You didn’t have time to answer them, your fight or flight instinct making its presence, you ran away as fast as you could. The phone dropped on the carpeted floor, but you didn’t care, you didn’t have time to call the police.
Your feet hit the floor with hurried steps, and you got out of your room before he could react, reaching the hallway of the second floor of your house. He chased you, you didn’t need to look back to make sure. You could hear his boots stomping their way to you.
The adrenaline rushed inside of you, blood pumping through your veins, all five senses on high alert now. Your hands grabbed the stair railing as you made your way down with hurried caution. You didn’t want to fall and make it easier for him to get you. You didn’t want to be another stereotypical dumb girl who trips and falls in front of the slasher.
“C’mon, baby, stop running away like a scared bunny,” Ghostface huffed a laugh behind you. His steps sounded closer.
You ran towards the kitchen, maybe there you could grab a knife and defend yourself. You got out safe and sound the last time you saw each other (as safe as a carved initial on your ass would be), but that didn’t mean he was gonna go easy on you again; perhaps he wanted to tie those loose ends from the party, even though you didn’t testify against him to the police…yet. That night, you were too shocked and embarrassed to expose yourself as a slasher fucker, The officers noticed how distraught you were and told you to take your time before testifying. Ghostface didn’t know that, or at least you thought so; he probably assumed you told the police about his looks and came out to kill you.
After all, he told you he was gonna see you soon.
The Ghostface kept taunting you as he ran behind you. “Come out, come out wherever you are～” trailed his voice. “I just wanna play, bunny.”
God, he sounded so hot. You mentally slapped yourself for thinking that. You were about to be killed!
You were about to pass the archway that led to your kitchen. You were so close…but you crashed head-on into something that suddenly blocked your way. Looking up, you realized it wasn’t something, it was someone.
Another figure dressed up as Ghostface stood up in front of you with his head tilted, looking down at you. The smell of strong cologne made you guess it was a man, who raised his hand and brought something to his mouth, or where it should be, given he had a mask on.
“What happened, bunny?” said the other man in front of you, his voice distorted as well. The thing in his hand must be the modulator. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he snickered, caressing your head with his gloved hand. You were too stunned to move away; your brain was struggling to process all of this.
The other Ghostface spoke behind you, his chest hitting your back as he leaned down to your ear. “Hope you don’t mind, I brought a friend with me…” he muttered, judging by his tone, it was so obvious he was smiling behind that mask, and you didn’t know what you hated more - his sadism or that you shuddered remembering that handsome smile. It felt like it was just yesterday that he fucked you dumb in a bathroom after killing your classmates.
They both laughed, deep and distorted. You were dumbfounded. “W-What…?” You couldn’t finish your question, too stunned to speak. You were expecting him to come back; he told you he was gonna do it, but you didn’t expect there to be two Ghostfaces now.
Choso and Geto laughed at your shock again, and you took that opportunity of distraction to slide and escape from that killer sandwich. You ran again, this time upstairs. Maybe if you locked yourself in your room where you dropped your phone, you could call the po…
“AH!” you screeched as one of the Ghostface, Suguru, grabbed you by the hips and threw you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, not even struggling with your weight. “LET ME GO! PLEASE! I DIDN’T TELL ANYONE, I SWEAR!” you began to plead with tears wetting the outer corners of your eyes, hitting the back of the man with your fists. You looked up when you heard a chuckle. The other Ghostface, Choso, was still recording you; that must be the one who fucked you, and the one carrying you must be his friend. “PLEASE, PLEASE, LET ME GO! DON’T KILL ME!”
Both men ignored you and took you to your bedroom. There, they carefully threw you on your bed, the soft mattress bouncing your body. The familiar smell of your scented candles gave you a tiny drop of comfort in this wicked situation. The former cozy environment is now corrupted by two ghostly figures with knives.
Before you could do anything to escape again, Geto grabs you by the wrists and ties them to your headboard with a red rope he pulled out from under his cloak. Choso kept recording you as you were being tied up. He panned through your whole body while his friend worked the rope, taking every detail from every possible angle; from your exposed belly, from the shirt hiking up to your blushed and scared pout. He brushed the blade of his knife on your legs, and his friend joined him by cutting up your t-shirt, exposing your breasts.
Now the focus of the camera was on your tits and their knives caressing the soft skin. The cold metal made your nipples hard despite yourself, and you let out a tiny whimper when a gloved hand pinched one of them. You had two pairs of hands stroking your body up and down, feeling you up and grabbing anything they could - your breasts, your hips, your thighs. All of that was captured by the camera like soft porn.
At one point, their blades did cut your skin. Tiny cuts on your stomach and chest, superficial cuts that wouldn’t scar but still stung, making you hiss any time they touched you there, spreading the blood that barely flowed from your wounds, staining your skin bright scarlet.
You weren’t proud to admit it, but anytime they played with your breasts or brushed too close to your clit, your thighs clenched together and your underwear grew wetter.
“Ngh, no～” you whined when one of their knives sliced your panties off. They were your favourite pair! They just chuckled at your complaints, like they found them cute.
“Shh, baby,” muttered the “original” Ghostface, well, the one you met first. He grabbed the sliced lace and shoved it inside your mouth, the taste of fabric and your essence filling your taste buds. You frowned, tugging at your restraints even though it was pointless; they were tied perfectly.
“Aww,” the Ghostface on your right, the new one, crooned, his voice sounded syrupy even through the distortion. “Look at her shaking,” he sounded amused, like a predator admiring his small prey.
The cameraman on your left tilted his head, lowering the camera so close you could see the red light blinking. “Relax, bunny,” he drawled, “If we wanted you dead, this would be over already.”
You thought about it, and maybe he was right, but it still didn’t make this any less scary.
The man on your right trailed a finger through your face, booping your nose with a laugh. “She looks so cute when she panics,” he said to the other killer, like you weren’t even there, even though his mask was fixed on you, his gaze definitely too. “Wide eyes, like a deer…”
The other man continues to record his friend playing with your nipples, drawing out cute little moans from your gagged mouth, a thin line of saliva drooling on the corner of your mouth.
“Our fans are gonna loooove seeing you again,” muttered the left Ghostface. You frown, still feeling scared and confused by all of this freakshow, cheeks wet from the tears running down your face. Did he say fans?
“Yeah, no need to be scared, baby. We’re just here to make you a star,” chuckled the other.
Now their hands resumed their fondling. The new Ghostface slid his hands up and down your naked torso while the Ghostface you knew already tugged your hair with his free hand, earning a painful cry from you, who squeezed your eyes shut from the sharp pain in your scalp. Their touches were accompanied by dirty compliments, degrading comments that shouldn’t be making you wet…but they did.
“You look so hot when you cry,” laughed one of them under their breath. “Such a pretty little slut, letting some psychos touch her…”
Choso trailed his hand down your abdomen, the video camera following, until it landed between your thighs. You yelped, closing your legs, trying and failing to keep him away from your soaking pussy. Your neck tensed as a gloved finger circled your clit, drawing out an airy whine from your throat.
“Look, man, she's soaking wet,” mused the man playing with your clit. His finger pressing into your button and making your cunt drool even more.
“Fuck,” sighed the other one, leaving your breasts alone for a second to glide his middle finger between your lower lips, collecting your juices and making you gasp. “And we just played with her tits.”
They both laugh, their dark voices echoing under the masks.
“Oh my God, you’re such a whore,” commented one.
“Getting wet from this, it makes me think you’re as sick as us…”
“She probably loves the attention.”
“Maybe it’s the masks.”
As they kept talking between themselves, Ghostface’s hand began to work its way into your pussy. First, a wet middle finger circled your entrance and slowly inserted itself, pulling a soft gasp from your gagged lips. Then, a second finger, both digits thrusting in and out of your shamefully clenching walls that didn’t care about your current estate — tied to your bed by two masked guys? Your pussy oozed at the idea.
Even though you tried your best to contain any sounds, the pathetic little whimpers still came out of you; it was inevitable when those gloved fingers curled inside you and touched a spot that melted all your worries away for a second.
You groaned, frustrated when they left your pussy, feeling empty as your clit was left throbbing and needy. The Ghostface then grabbed your face with that same hand that was inside you seconds ago, squeezing your cheeks tightly and moving your head around as the camera took in every angle of your close-up face. Its grainy film recording your puffy lips and glassy eyes, along with your wet, blushy face from the tears.
He sighed. “Ahh. She looks so pretty when she cries,” he sounded like a lovestruck teenager talking about his crush, not a serial killer recording his victim.
The other one hummed in agreement as he took out his gloves. “Like a lamb about to be sacrificed to the hungry wolves.” Your previously abandoned pussy was now greeted by Geto’s naked fingers. His hands were different from the other man's; his fingers were slender and almost delicate looking if not for the tiny scars along the back of his hands, while the other Ghostface had rough and thicker hands.
The camera lowers and focuses between your thighs, and the way the slender fingers fuck your pussy with a steady rhythm that makes you squeal, your sounds mixing with the squelching coming from your wet center. You tried your best to keep your moans to yourself and not give them the pleasure of knowing you were liking this. Choso notices this, and apparently doesn’t like this, because he lands a soft yet firm slap on your face and tells you not to hold in those ‘cute little noises’.
The lens is now focused on the way his gloved hands massage your supple breasts, humming and enjoying the soft flesh, playing with your nipples now and then. They keep talking.
“She’s been sooo good, don’t you think?”
“Yeah, she didn’t talk to the police even though I showed her my face.”
“That’s why she’s perfect for these movies.”
Movies?
They must have seen your inquiring expression, so they continued.
“Yes, baby, the camera is not some random decision. All of our kills are recorded and uploaded on a website for sickos who like murder but don’t have the balls to kill someone,” Geto let out a dark chuckle, continuing to massage your aching clit as if he was not confessing to you something dark and twisted.
Choso nodded. “I had a hidden camera on my mask on Halloween night,” confessed the man. “While he was working on the ground floor, I took over the upper floor and found this cute little angel in the bathroom.”
Your nostrils flared as your breath hiked. So there were two murderers that night.
“It was just my luck that the camera recorded how good I fucked you,” sighed Choso, his hand caressing your abdomen slowly. “And that our viewers liked you so much, they didn’t even want us to kill you.”
Your brain couldn’t decide what scared you more, the fact that they were killers or that part of you felt…chosen.
Snuff films… People watching you…
Your stomach twisted at the thought of creepy strangers replaying that traumatizing night, pausing it, talking about you, praising you and wanting to spare you because they found you… What? Entertaining? Hot? You should’ve felt disgusted, and you did.
But also…deep beneath the nausea and the fear that squeezed your ribs tight, there was this something, this thought spreading through your brain, warm and slow like poison. Out of everyone in that party, out of everyone in those snuff films, they kept you alive. Your breath stuttered.
“Our own little movie star,” trailed Geto, his free hand squeezing your thigh, the words curled around your spine, giving you goosebumps.
Their star. Not their victim but a feature, something special to them. Why was the thought of being special to those men making you gush? Have you been seeing too many slashers?
“I think she likes the idea,” added Geto, the smile under his mask audible in his words. “She’s getting wetter by the second.”
Choso chuckled and set down the camera for a moment, the three of you now out of frame. His hand slipped off his silicone mask, and your eyes met with the beautiful sight of his face. You didn’t get much time to admire his tired eyes and his disheveled hair. He leaned down and planted a kiss on top of your gagged lips. He prompts Geto to take his off too, and you finally get to see what his friend looked like.
Long, inky black hair previously hidden inside the mask falls around the man's face, framing his sharp features with soft waves. You didn’t expect such refined features from someone who kills people and films it. He looks so calm, even with that wicked curl on the corner of his mouth. His dark eyes looked at you half-lidded and riddled with amusement as if you were a shiny toy he was about to break just because he could.
“She’s soaking wet,” Suguru told Choso, his eyes never leaving yours, a malicious smile tugging at his lips. He felt the way your walls clenched around him when you saw him, clearly finding him attractive. “Do you like what you see, angel?” He’s now talking to you, referencing what Choso said to you when you first saw his face.
Both men kept touching you and fingering you until you couldn’t take it anymore and came around Geto’s fingers. Leaving you a gasping and throbbing mess on your bed. But this was just the beginning for you, the three knew that.
“Mm, she keeps clenching the air…” snickered Geto, lightly tapping at your sensitive bud; you squirm. “Do you want to get fucked, angel? Want us to fuck this slutty little pussy?”
“Mhm.” You nod, whimpering embarrassingly through your panties.
“Tch, that’s not good enough.”
“I want her to beg.”
“Beg for it, slut,” the beautifully dark eyes of Geto sparkled with mischief.
Their voices were now clear and free of distortion but you couldn’t focus so much on their conversation because the deepness just melted your brain.
Choso undid your restraints with a very serious threat of gutting you like a fish if you even think about escaping. He took out your gag too, enjoying the thread of saliva joining your tongue with your ruined panties. His strong hands held you under your arms and lifted you from the bed, positioning you on top of Geto’s boot with your bare pussy touching the leather footwear.
The camera was now in Choso’s hands once again, angling it so that your body and Suguru’s leg were visible, nothing incriminating in sight. “Hump his boot until you cum, show them you are a good little slut, then we’ll fuck you.”
You knew that he was talking about the future audience. It made you nervous at first, but right now you would do anything to get those dicks inside you. If anything, those promises about ruining you for everyone else were true, no other dick was gonna feel like he did, bulging its way to your orgasm.
You obeyed and did as you were told, slowly rolling your hips; the cold leather felt good against your drenched core. With every shift, the boot laces brushed against your sensitive clit and made you shiver, letting out tiny moans to make sure they knew you were enjoying this humiliation. Off-camera, their hands caressed your face, praising you for being such a good slut and obeying them. Even in their compliments, they found a way to degrade you.
The words fueled your movements; you humped on Geto’s boot erratically and whimpered shamelessly, begging them, telling them you were a good girl. You had never experienced such a need to comply with someone's demands as you did with them, you didn’t know if it was out of fear or simply…because you wanted to. Could it be that? You wanted to obey them, please them. Perhaps they found a way to draw the little pervert inside your mind out.
Fingers found their way into your mouth, and you let them in without complaining. Your tongue tasted leather and skin, the faint remaining of your own juices coating the digits, making your eyes roll back into your skull.
“Beg, slut.”
You spoke with his fingers still invading your mouth. “Mhm, please. Fuck-please fuck me. I’m a good girl. I-”
When they took them out, your face started to rub desperately against their bulges, drawing deep gasps out of them as you looked up to them with big puppy eyes, whimpering like a bitch in heat, begging for them to take you. But they didn’t fall for it, no, they just laughed at your pathetic attempt to persuade them. They kept degrading you, tugging at your hair, slapping your face, Choso even made you open your mouth wide and spat on your tongue, and you gladly swallowed the warm liquid.
It was all too much, really. With your logical self gone, your devious side took over and enjoyed their degradation so much that it didn’t take long for you to cum on the boot. Your whole body felt hot with ecstasy and embarrassment as your pussy gushed, drenching the leather shoe with your juices.
“Atta girl. Such a good bunny.”
“Our perfect little star.”
“So obedient.”
“She’s the best.”
Both men smile at each other, then at you, satisfied with your work. All of the humiliating words are now replaced by praise and compliments for being a good girl for them. It made you slightly dizzy, the sudden change of treatment, but you couldn’t complain. You loved how they praised you, their good little bunny.
Choso lent Geto the camera so he could pick you up. His hands hooked under your armpits and lifted your body with ease, then he grabbed you by the thighs so you could wrap your legs around his waist. You could feel how strong his body was underneath the cloak. He took you to your bed and let you flop into the mattress. Then, with his hands on each side of your hips, he quickly turned you around and manhandled you into position. You were on your hands and knees now.
When Suguru returned the camera, Choso began to film your ass, focusing on the mark he left on your cheek. The ‘C’ he carved on you during your first encounter.
“Hmm, scarred pretty nicely, don’t you think?” he asked his partner, his finger ghosting over the scar tissue branding you.
“Yeah…” sighed Geto. “I’m kinda jealous.”
“Don’t worry, you’ll get yours.”
Choso’s hands slapped soundly against your ass, and you let out a high-pitched yelp at the stinging sensation. His fingers gripped the reddening flesh, hard, squishing you like a toy. He seemed not to decide what to do, as he alternated between grabbing your cheeks and sliding a digit inside you, sometimes two, checking if you were still wet. The man hummed pleasantly that you were still soaked. His clothed bulge rutted against your warm core, the nice friction against you made you gasp and arch back, wanting more.
As one man dry humped you from behind, the other stood in front of you. Ghetto’s hands caressed your face with uncanny delicacy for a short moment, which made your eyes flutter and your head lean more into his touch. But that rarely intimate moment met its end when his pointer parted your lips. You hummed as he thrusted his index into your mouth; you could still taste the ghost of your juices on the salty skin. Judging by the dark expression on his eyes, he enjoyed how you sucked on his finger like it was his dick, letting him reach so deep you gagged around him.
After that, he took it out and leaned into you, replacing the digit with his mouth. His lips tasted of nicotine and a subtle trace of tea, a really nice combination that left you wanting more as he kissed you. The kiss was messy, open-mouthed, kind of rough. He seemed desperate to claim your mouth, teeth nipping at your bottom lip.
Behind you, Choso lifted his Ghostface cloak and zoomed in as his newly naked length slowly disappeared inside you. You moaned into Geto’s mouth from the sudden intromission. The burning stretch of your cunt as Choso began to thrust into you distracted you from the kiss, which Suguru didn’t like, since he grabbed you by the neck to continue. It was a not-so-subtle fight for your attention, with Geto biting you and Choso slapping your ass, but it quickly ended when the one in front of you stood straight and lifted his robe too. He scooched down his jeans enough to free his hard cock, the thick shaft sprang in front of your face in an angry red, hitting your cheek. Suguru took advantage of the way Choso’s pounding left you slack-jawed and shoved his dick right into your throat, chuckling at the pathetic gagging sound you made.
You were now full from both sides. Choso fucked you from behind, with his hands gripping you by the hips as he slammed hard into your wet and needy pussy, his rhythm making your whole body move back and forth. Geto had you choking on his cock, rejoicing at the sight of your hollowed cheeks sucking around him, drool dripping down to his base. Your hair stuck to your sweaty forehead as you bobbed your head on his shaft, promiscuous hums vibrating against him.
The camera was getting passed around to capture every detail, zooming in on your eyes, mouth and ass. It recorded how your cheeks got wet from the tears running down, and your red ass jiggling with each sharp thrust.
“Oh my God, you’re such a dirty slut,” giggled one of them, you didn’t know who because at that point you were beyond dumbed down in dick.
“Yeah, but she’s a cute slut.”
“Hah, a pretty little whore.”
“Fuck- so submissive, look how she takes my dick.”
“Our whore. Mm, the best.”
“Our fans are gonna love you, pretty girl. You’re gonna be a star.”
“You were born to be on camera.”
“And our dicks.”
Your mind was a mushy mess, so cock-drunk that you could barely think through their wicked praise. It targeted a part of you that you didn’t know existed, one where you found the way they talked about you so exciting that it sent shivers down your spine and made your clit throb.
At one point, while both men fucked you, you came undone on Choso’s cock, clenching your walls tight around him. Tears pooled in your eyes and your cute sobs of pleasure overwhelmed Geto’s dick. He quickly grabbed the camera, and filmed how warm white ribbons painted your blushed face. You had this lost gaze on you, mind absent from the orgasm, looking straight to the lens while he spread his cum around your mouth with his thumb, you took the finger into your mouth and sucked it clean of his seed.
Choso didn’t stop fucking you. And now that you came, the overstimulation of your throbbing pussy was too much, you loudly moaned and screamed in high-pitched shrills.
“Oh, fuck, oh my God, fuckfuckfuck,” you let out through gritted teeth, your eyes shut tight and mouth hung open. He gripped hard on the flesh of your ass, spanking your cheeks, hips and thighs as he rammed into you.
Since you were no longer focused on Geto’s cock, he pressed you down into the mattress by your nape; at that angle, his tip could hit your spot more easily. Your hands gripped the bedsheets, and your open mouth drooled on the soft material. At some point, he grabbed you by the hair to brace himself and pound you without a stop until he was about to cum, then he came out of you, making you whine.
“Noo, why?” You sounded like a brat, yearning for his cock to come back inside. He just chuckles.
Geto circles the bed to film Choso give himself a few pumps and then paint the scar on your ass with his cum. A loud groan fills the room.
When the two men recovered a little and catched their breath, they let out a few laughs. Devious snickers filled with satisfaction.
“It’s your turn, bro,” Choso said with the modulator back on. “Leave your mark.”
A familiar sharp pain ripped you back from your orgasmic glee and into the real world. A pained moan left your throat as the point of their knife began to carve into your sensitive skin. Geto was marking you on your other asscheek, just like Choso did before, forming a bloody red ‘S’.
As you laid down on your bed, they recorded the results of the night. The sheets stained with blood and other bodily fluids. You, full of marks, sweat and tears, breathing heavily, tired and trying to recover from what these two psychos did to you.
“What should we call this film?”
“Film, really? Why are you so pretentious?”
“Fuck off.”
Their voices sounded like a distant echo as your eyes closed and you began to fall asleep. You let them carry you bridal style to your bathroom—you’re not surprised that they know the layout of your place.
In the bathroom, they prepared a bath for you and carefully began to clean you, The three of you squeezed awkwardly into the tub, but somehow made it work. They were large, so their knees bumped and their shoulders pressed against you. Chuckles rumbled in their chests as the warm water soaked your skin.
It was strange—the sharp contrast between the wild way they had you earlier and the softness of their hands now. The same fingers that gripped and bruised you were now gently brushing damp hair from your face, tracing slow circles along your arms. Their touch went from dangerous to protective.
As you drifted between sleep and consciousness, you heard them speak about you again.
“She’s special, I’m telling you.”
“Yeah, we should keep her, see how things go. People loved her.”
And as sick as it sounded, you didn't think it was a bad idea.
hope you enjoyed it! pls leave a like, comment or reblog if you did <3
