spookie coochie👻
—got a spooky twat, for your appetite...
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
Characters: Syd (London) x woc!reader
Summary: The one where things get a little crazy between you and Syd.
Word Count: 2.3k+
Warnings: general language warnings, drugs, murder, use of a ghostface mask, unprotected sex (use protection yall), high sex, girl on top, slapping, scratching, knife play, choking, squirting
A/N: DAY TWENTY ONE OF KINKTOBER! It's literally inspired by the song Spookie Coochie by DOECHII. Special thanks to @olyvoyl for telling me to write this for Syd. The divider is by @firefly-graphics
DO NOT repost or translate my work anywhere. Reblogs are always welcome, and let me know that you enjoy my fics.
There’s loud music playing, drugs and drinking in abundance, you laugh as you walk past someone dressed as the wicked witch of the west who’s making out with the Bride of Chucky. A loud pounding on the front door pulls you away from the mind boggling sigh. Opening it has your smile dropping instantly. “Oh let me guess, Tweedledee and Tweedledum?” You say when you see who’s standing on the other side. The two men roll their eyes, clearly unamused.
“Ha ha, look you know what we’re here for, don’t waste our time.” The shorter haired one says, stepping forward to start barging his way in. You shake your head, and try to close the door only for his booted foot to stop you.
“You heard what I said last time you sad sacks showed up without my fucking money. I’m not giving you bums shit until you pay me for the last time.” You snap at the two junkies that are barging into your little costume party. They’re Syd’s friends and you’ve told him more than once not to invite them around anymore until they paid you what they owed you. The two men chuckle to themselves, looking you over as if you’re all talk and no threat. That just pisses you off even more, and you yank the Ghostface mask up to your hairline so that they can see your harsh glare. That just makes them look at you like you’re a piece of meat, and you huff. You know what you look like, knee high boots, short skirt, fishnets, a black corset that has your cleavage on full display. It’s sexy Ghostface, and right now you don’t look like much of a killer.
“Yeah we heard you, but I think we all know that we can take whatever we want from you sugar.” The stocky well built one speaks, Brock you think his name is and you grip the hunting knife in your hand tighter. You may not look like much of a threat right now, but the knife in your hands is very real and you’re just itching to slit a throat right now.
“Brock, get out. I’m not dealing to you or Scarface here.” You snap, and the one you remember is named Rollins bristles at the mocking nickname. You barely get a chance to bask in your cheap shot when Brock slams you against a wall and the party that’s going on comes to an abrupt halt. You can see a couple of your guys gearing up to intervene and you wave them off while keeping your dark gaze on Brock and his glowering friend.
“That was rude, now how about you stop being a stingy bitch and give me and my buddy here what we came from. We know you have some on you, where is it?” He demands, groping at you as he searches for a baggie of something, anything. Brock doesn’t care, he’s just chasing a high and you know he’s unfocused and desperate. It’s something you can use to your advantage.
You simper up at the man, batting your lashes and running your free hand down his chest. “You’re right, I’m being rude. Come with me to the bedroom and I’ll make it up to you.” You look over at Rollins who’s still looking grim, but you can see the flash of interest in his eyes. “Both of you.” You add, licking your lips and just like you have both men on the hook.
Brock lets out a laugh, releasing your throat and giving you a slap on the ass as you begin to walk away. “Syd know his girl is such an easy whore?” Rollins grunts out, and you set your jaw in an effort to keep yourself from snapping at the two of them. You’ve got plans for them, and while murder may be the nuclear option, it’s the quickest way to get your point across.
“What Syd doesn’t know won’t him.” You reply, smirking to yourself as they let you lead them to the privacy of your bedroom and as soon as the door closes behind you, you slit Rollins' throat first, turning around so quickly that neither him or Brock register the movement until it’s too late. He crumples to the ground, clutching his neck as if he can stop the blood. Brock curses at you, lunging in your direction only to feel the hunting knife sink into his chest.
“Crazy bitch…” Are his last words, and you yank the knife out of his chest with a grunt. He’s right, you are a crazy bitch and he should have known better than to try and fuck with you. You’re about to call your guys into the room to move the bodies into the bathroom when you hear the sound of someone’s panicked breathing. You spin around on your heels, coming face to face with a shocked and freaking out Syd. Precious Syd, your favorite customer, your favorite lay, and you really don’t want to have to kill him too if he can’t keep his shit together. You have to think fast, and the only thing you can think to do is drop the bloody knife onto the bed so he doesn’t freak out even more when you start walking his way. “My friends!” He shouts, sounding frantic. “You killed my fucking friends! What the fuck!”
“Your friends owed me money, and they attacked me. They got what they deserved.” You tell him with a tired sigh. Syd words his mouth like he wants to say something else, but nothing comes out. You mutter to yourself in frustration, you can’t even enjoy the adrenaline rush that getting rid of Rollins and Brock gives you.
Looking over at Syd, you can tell he doesn’t know what to do, he knows Brock and Rollins are bad news, and he can only assume that they deserved it but actually seeing you kill two men, two men who he called friends, with no remorse or hesitation has him about to go into a tailspin. “Syd, baby. Calm down, you’re gonna hyperventilate if you keep that up.” You tell him, and he shakes his head like he’s trying to get the image of the two dead bodies out of his head. You reach into your cleavage, and pull out a baggie of white powder, and shake it in front of Syd’s face. That gets his attention, and you smile sweetly at him, opening the baggie and pouring out a messy line against the swell of your cleavage. His eyes follow your movements, and you see him take half a step before hesitating. “It’s okay, baby. You need this, it’ll help you calm down.”
Syd nods at your urging, closing the distance and bending down to snort at the line of coke on your breast. You watch as the effects take over, the euphoria makes him relax and he encourages you to take a bump yourself and while you normally don’t bother with the coke you decide you can indulge just this once. You scoop out a small amount with your nail, bringing it up to your nose and inhaling it with a groan. Closing the baggie you slip it back in your corset and reach for Syd, pulling him in for a kiss as the effects start to take you over as well. “Fuck, Syd. You’re a bad influence on me.” You tease, smiling when you hear him laugh. Thank god for drugs, you think. You turn yourselves so his back is to the bed, and the bodies of Brock and Rollins are out of his line of sight, then you push him down and fumble with his belt and jeans until you can pull them and his boxers down in one pull. You climb on top of him, throwing a leg over his hips to straddle him. You drag yourself over his length, feeling him growing harder against your sex as your slick starts to coat him.
“Shit, c’mon don’t tease me.” He whines, head pressing back against the bed, eyes squeezed shut. You throw your head back with a giggle before reaching up to pull the Ghostface back down with one hand, while you grip him and line him up with your entrance with the other. You lower yourself, letting the blunt head of his cock push into your entrance. You hiss at the initial stretch, hips squirming as your body adjusts to him. When it does, you sink down on him cursing at how full he leaves you feeling. Syd opens his eyes then, looking up to see you with the Ghostface mask on and he gasps in shock, moaning a second later when he feels you rolling your hips against him. “Oh fuck—shitshitshit…” You can seem him losing it, no doubt the sight of the mask of a killer from a slasher flick is fucking with his high mind. It’s a little mean but you can’t help but fuck with him a bit more.
“What’s your favorite scary movie, Syd?” You ask, dropping your voice an octave as you rock yourself up to the tip of his cock just to drop your hips and take him deep. Syd stutters, clearly stuck between pleasure, confusion, and fear when he sees you leaning forward to grab the bloody knife from the bed. You cut through the fabric of his shirt, shredding it in two to expose the man’s bare chest. The tip of the hunting knife teases against his skin, and Syd goes still when you begin to drag it slowly up his body. Syd’s so far gone that he doesn’t even realize he’s moaning, or the fact that when you press the knife to his throat that it makes his cock twitch. He doesn’t even care right now that the knife still has the blood of two other men on it, all he cares about is how good it feels to have you riding him while your tight walls squeeze around him.
Sex with Syd is always good, but right now you feel like you’re floating, like you’ve got fire in your veins and its just heightening every sensation until it has your head spinning. There’s also the adrenaline rush from earlier that makes you feel like you’re vibrating and it makes you want to chase another rush of euphoria.
You pull the baggie from your cleavage again, watching as Syd disregards the knife and presses harder against his throat. You laugh, pulling it away so you can pour out another line for him to snort off of your breasts. He groans and falls back against the bed, letting you pour out a line for yourself against his collarbone. “Shit babe, you feel sooooo good.” You moan, dragging the edge of the knife up your thigh as you circle your hips. You’re so wet that you’re dripping and you can hear the wet schlick schlick schlick of your cunt around his cock every time you lift and drop your hips to fuck yourself on him. Syd’s hands frame your hips, and you reach out to leave a slap against his cheek that makes him moan and thrust his hips up into you just as you bring your hips back down. “Fuck...you like that?” You give him another slap and he reacts the same way, gripping your hips tight enough to bruise.
“Fuck, that’s it. Use me, make yourself cum all over me.” He pleads, fingers digging into your hips as he rocks his hips up to meet you each time you drop onto him. You’re so loud, crying out and moaning for him that if it wasn’t for the loud music blasting just outside the bedroom door you’re sure all your guests would be able to hear you right now. You drop the knife, hands bracing against Syd’s chest and dragging down to leave red streaks in their wake. He bucks into you harder, almost knocking you off balance if it weren’t for his tight grip keeping you there. You can feel the pressure building, every time you drop down on him the coil tightens more and more until it finally snaps and you’re cumming hard and grinding yourself against his cock. Syd moves a hand from your hips to slide under the cowl of the Ghostface mask so that he can wrap it around your throat and squeeze. You feel him holding you in place, his hips snapping up to hammer his cock into your fluttering cunt.
“Fuckfuckfuck...Syd! Don’t stop!” You can feel yourself being pushed to another climax, and Syd doesn’t let up until he has you squirting for him when you do cum again. Your nails rake over his chest, and you know he’ll be wearing your marks for a few days with how deep your nails have sunk into him. “Cum for me, baby.” You demand with a breathy moan, voice tight from how he’s squeezing his hand around your throat. Syd cums a second later, the sound of you begging for his cum being the thing to send him over. For a second you wish you had your phone on you to capture his pretty mouth hanging open as he feels his orgasm wash over him. His spend coats your walls, and he gives you a couple thrusts after the fact to make sure he fucks it deep into you before he pulls out and lets you roll to the side and lay next to him.
You breathe heavily, reaching up to rip the mask off and toss it aside with a laugh. Syd pants next to you, chest heaving as he stares up at the ceiling in a stupor. You know he’ll be coming down soon, and you’ll have to deal with the inevitable fuss he’s going to make about his very annoying and very dead friends. Until then you’re more than happy to bask in the afterglow.