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bisexual-horror-fan · 1 year ago

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Mickey in the full Ghostface outfit cucking your boyfriend after the boyfriend trash talks the Ghostface killer<mickey> In class

Okay, so this request is amazing. I mean I have been fixating on Mickey a ton lately, and I LOVE cuck stuff being a certified cuck myself, so this is just amazing! I am so happy I finally did it, hope it was worth the wait! Let’s get into the nastiness, alright?

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Rating. Explicit. Length 3.6K. Mickey Altieri/Ghostface X AFAB! Reader. They/Them Pronouns. Warnings: Stalking. Trash Talking. Breaking And Entering. Reader (AKA You) Are A Slut. Praise. Cuckolding. Restraints. Knife Play. Threats To Your Boyfriend’s Life. Fingering. Glove Kink. Blow Job. Gagging. Rough Oral Sex. Throat Fucking. Praise. Vaginal Sex. Squirting. Come Eating. Sloppy Seconds. Clean Up Crew Boyfriend. Use Of Words Like Cunt And Pretty Used To Describe The Reader.

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“I Can Do It Better.”

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His head is hurting, and he has no idea why, the dull throbbing ache makes him want to rub his temples to try and ease it, however, when he tries to move his hands to do this, he finds something curious, he can’t.

He is slow to wake up on the best of days, but the lack of being able to move helps him come to his senses sooner, he tries to move his hands again, raise his arms, but something is holding him too well. His brows furrow and what woke him up registers, the sounds filling the space he is occupying at the moment is clearly what had to have stirred him back to wakefulness.

The moving of a mattress, rustling of sheets, the sound of wetness and moaning, your brand of moaning, breathy and beautiful and unmistakable. His eyes blink open, the lights are low and thankfully don’t worsen his headache, what he sees when it comes into focus makes his jaw drop, the sounds are thanks to you, but you are not alone.

He wishes you were, waking up to his partner masturbating in his bed would be a total dream, but what is playing out before him is more of a nightmare. He realizes now with the ability to see again and much more awake that he isn’t in bed, he is sitting up in a chair and tied to it, ankles to chair legs, wrists behind his back, and you on bed with a figure in all black and a ghostly white mask. At first, he was worried that you were being assaulted, it became clear very, very quickly that you were a willing participant. The shifting was you writhing in pleasure, not struggling to get away, why weren’t you trying to get him off of you?

Your legs were spread wide, the figure, whoever it was under the costume, was making you feel very good if the sounds you made were anything to go off of. The leather glove clad hand between your thighs, two fingers sliding in and out of your drenched cunt, the low light catches the wetness, the creamy white looks shiny against the dark material. Your lips are parted, chest rising and falling, and you were squirming on the sheets, one arm around this guy, Ghostface, your boyfriend remembers, your hand gripping his shoulder, fingers twisted in black, betraying how fucking incredible you were feeling. He knew that action well, when you felt too good that you needed something to grip for dear life, to ground yourself to the moment, like the feelings were too great and threatened to sweep you away without an anchor.

The killer that has been terrorizing the campus was fingering his partner's cunt, your cunt, right in front of him. He can’t stay quiet any longer, he speaks up, it doesn’t have as much bite as he’d like, a bit too quiet as he says, “What the fuck?”

The white mask raises up from where he had been clearly focused on your exposed chest, your shirt had been pulled down under them, the hand that wasn’t working between your legs was palming one of your tits. Your boyfriend watched every move as the fingers grasping pinched lightly before expertly rolling the hardened and sensitive peak, making you arch ever closer to the mysterious invader in his room and bed.

The previous task was abandoned, the hand rummages in the sheets and swiftly finds what he is looking for, a strange small device is brought up, a button clicks, a light flicks on and a cool modulated voice floats out into the open ear, “Finally, he’s awake.”

You rock your hips into the hand with a moan, uncaring that your boyfriend had come to, much more concerned with keeping the good feelings coming. “I’ve been working hard to keep em entertained before you woke up, they didn’t make it easy though, you’ve got quite a firecracker here, real pent-up and ready to explode.”

A harsh inhale as your walls clench around his fingers as they rock just right into you, “Isn’t that right?”

The question gets only a dumb nod in response from you before he says, “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Poor thing-” The mask turns back to face your bound boyfriend and in an accusing tone as he says, “-you must not be treating em like you should be, but don’t worry, I’m here, I can fuck them right, show you how it’s done.”

Your boyfriend was apparently made speechless, but soon managed to find his voice again, “You can’t do this! How the fuck can you do this?”

What could he be referring to? The breaking and entering? The knocking your less than stellar partner out and tying him up? The way it was all too easy to seduce you? Or did he mean the greater motive at hand?

It started two weeks ago. In class, you were with your boyfriend, seated next to him, his arm casually slung over your shoulder, the Ghostface killer is brought up in a discussion and your meathead significant other proceeded to go on a verbal tirade about how Ghostface “-wasn’t shit-” and about how he could “-totally kick his fucking ass.”

He went on and on about how Ghostface was an apparent pussy who was weak and cowardly and a million other things. You didn’t pay it much mind, just kinda laughed along, Mickey however did not take it so well, he was sitting right there, under both your noses and the pair of you totally unaware that the person you were shit talking and calling pathetic was listening to every awful word.

Mickey made a decision that afternoon, he didn’t show how upset he was outwardly, but he made the call that he was going to ruin your relationship, he was going to show you that your boyfriend was the real pathetic one, make him realize and be confronted with the fact that he wasn’t shit.

The plan didn’t take long to draft, finding out your schedules easy enough, the lock to the apartment was shit, a total joke, he broke in a night you were meant to sleep over and the rest was obvious just was previously described. Boyfriend knocked out, tied up, and you won over, probably a tad too easily.

You liked your boyfriend well enough, it was a fine college aged relationship, but you’d be lying if you said that you were perfectly happy with him, he tries and enthusiasm can make up for a lot but lately? That had been lacking, his interest has been waning, seems like your pleasure had been taking more and more of a backseat, so sue you for being swept up in being actively wanted and desired, and currently fingered so well you think in another two minutes you’d be squirting all over these sheets if he kept it up.

Fingers were removed, and you groaned at the loss, he tsk’s, “Don’t worry honey, you won’t be empty for long.”

Mickey thinks that your shit heel partner isn’t worth dignifying with a response honestly, “How could he do this?” Be more cliché and boring. It is obvious, but he supposes that he can tell him why. “I heard you were talking badly about me, doesn’t matter how I know that really, but I figured I should show up and defend myself. Show you that I am not someone to be fucked with or spoken about like that.”

He is starting to move, pulling his robe up his hips, “What better way to do that than this?”

He nods down, and you take the hint, you shift onto your knees, and you reach for his belt, you start to open it with nimble excited fingers. Mickey was going to fuck you away from your boyfriend and make him watch the entire time.

“What are you doing?” He asked you, and man, that question was going to keep coming up today, wasn’t it? He sounded like a broken record.

“You don’t have to answer that.” Mickey told you and your boyfriend spit, “Yes they fucking do!”

You’d gotten him out of his pants in record time and had your mouth around him in short order, pretty soft lips brush before you sink him inside with a quiet moan. You weren’t paying your boyfriend any mind, content to let the man you were blowing deal with him.

“Come on, let them do their thing, it’s obvious they know just what they want because you haven’t been giving it to em.”

The tone was shocked and indignant in response, “Haven’t been-What the fuck do you know anyway?!”

“Enough.” He hums out, Mickey was sideways on the bed as were you, he wanted your audience to have a clear view as you start to take more of him between your lips, slipping him deeper into the warm and wet heat of you. Mickey was getting off on this immensely, you are sinking him further and further into your mouth, sucking with a quiet moan, eyes falling closed as you focus on pleasing him.

“I do know that people that are happy with their relationships aren’t typically this excited to blow a complete stranger.”

His head tips back slightly, he moans into changer, deep, throaty and honestly, not even exaggerated, the situation is hot, and you are skilled, it already feels fucking good. You are insanely eager, like you couldn’t wait to choke yourself on him and didn’t care in the slightest that your boyfriend was watching and verbally fighting the man who broke in to do this, since he physically couldn’t.

Little did Mickey know that he was right on the money with how he was taunting your boyfriend, you were actively getting off on this too. You are kind of a freak and your boyfriend has not been using that, and by extension, you, like he should. He hadn’t been appreciating you, so you were going to show him what he had been missing, the fun things you could have been doing, the wild, carefree enthusiasm that you employ when your needs are adequately tended to.

You had no idea who is under the mask, and honestly you could not care less. All you gave a fuck about is getting yours, about feeling good and with the praise, dirty talk, groping and fingering, the masked stranger made you feel more pleasure than your piss poor excuse of a boyfriend had in months.

Your partner was frankly annoying you right now. He was still freaking out, some annoying commentary running in the background that you were hoping the sounds of your mouth would drown out, but it wasn’t. Mickey seems to be feeling the same way, his hand comes down, the one that wasn’t holding the changer unsheathes the knife from the holster on his ankle, he holds it up and tells him, “If you don’t shut the fuck up, I’ll use this, okay? Don’t think I’ll gag you, cuz I won’t, I’d much rather silence you permanently.”

The shuts him up. Reluctantly. The knife is embedded into the mattress, right within reach, for him to grab it in case your boyfriend opens his mouth again.

Your hands come to his hips, and you grip, you tug him nearer until you make yourself gag on him. You were playing it up slightly, but not much, you bob your head up and down, staring up into the cold black lifeless eyes of that mask that had tipped back down to take in the view. A gloved hand come to stroke over your hair, and he stokes, praised you, “Fuck sake, you act like you actually LIKE gagging on it.”

You smile slightly and maintaining that eye contact you move more harshly, gag yourself again and again and every choked, nasty sound that only proved to him that was the case, that yes you did like it. All the sounds you released from your effort was matched with a moan from him, “Oh how good are you?”

Mickey looked over to your bound boyfriend and said, “Tell me, fuck, do they act like they need your dick more than air orrrr is that just for me?”

You laugh, it sounds wet and broken around him, and you pull him out, hand taking over in place of your mouth you tease him, saying, “You are such an asshole.”

“Well, judging by your boyfriend, seems like you got a type.” He taunts back, and you think that he isn’t exactly wrong, is he? Before you could keep playing along, might try to teasingly ask what he thinks your type really is, his hand wraps around your hair, and he tugs firmly, the pressure at your roots makes your lips part once again and with a push of his hips he is poised at your lips, “Now enough talking, back to work, yeah?”

He slides in once more and your mouth opens wider, letting him in, enjoying the way he is taking control, revelling in the honesty of him pursuing just what he wants. At this moment, just what he wants is to fuck your throat until he’s had his fill. You want him to do it too, you let him, hands remain on his hips, and he sets the pace this time. It isn’t gentle, but you wouldn’t call it rough either, he isn’t going fast, he is taking his time. Firm and purposeful rolls of his hips, making you take it, but you are more than willing.

You steal a glance at your boyfriend, he was gritting his teeth, he wanted to respond, wanted to say something, but his eyes were on that knife. He was sure if he spoke up that it would be the last thing he ever did, the masked bastard wouldn’t be afraid to use it.

“Christ, seriously, how did you ever get someone like them to go with someone like you?” He rocks his hips forward again, and you take it like a dream. It doesn’t go on for much longer than that, you are looking up at him with those big pleading eyes, and he knows what you need, “Awe honey, you look so worked up. Here, let me help.”

He graciously pulls out, and you gasp for air, the rest of your clothing is stripped off quickly, trembling and zealous fingers rush to free yourself of constraining fabric and expose yourself completely to him.

A low whistle as he takes in the sights, and he drops the changer, you still can’t tell who it is, he is doing something to his voice, it’s breathy, deep, you can’t pin it down. You are more concerned with what he says, rather than the voice that is saying it, “You should show this body off a lot more.”

How very flattering, the hand makes contact, over your hip and side, pausing to cup one of your breasts and squeeze, you lean closer and seriously neither of you can keep on waiting. He makes a motion with his hand, pointer finger is turned skyward, and he twirls it, signalling clearly that he wants you to turn around and you do easily. Hands on your hips just like yours were on his earlier, but it’s still different, his hands are stronger than yours, encased in cool and smooth leather. The sensation of his hands on you is good, the feeling of his bare dick sliding through your soaked folds is better by a mile, head bumping over your clit in such a way that makes your body bow, fingers curl in fabric and a moan breaks out.

Another pass before he is pulling back, and you reach one hand back between your legs, to help line him up, but his hand slides up the length of your body. He rips your jaw, and he says firmly, “Look up at me.”

You do so, head tilts back with his assistance, eyes questioning, “I wanna watch your face as I slip inside this sweet cunt for the first time.”

Brows furrow, and you nod once, teeth catching on your bottom lip, this is doing everything for you. You are soaking wet, bared and about to get fucked by who knows who he really is, unable to see his face or anything identifying about him, and he wants it, to stare into your eyes, know you intimately while he is functionally anonymous.

He slides home easily, completely raw, slots into you better than he should, and the moan starts spilling from you before getting choked off, and it’s like he picks it up, finishes the vocalization. Time isn’t wasted as he starts fucking into you, God that feels incredible.

“Been dreaming about this.” He breathes, and you are compelled to agree, not dreaming about him, but about getting fucked like this again. You should maybe think more seriously about this, the idea of him dreaming about this, the implication he has been watching, wanting, stalking, you aren’t capable of such higher thought at the moment. You are moving back in earnest, body moving with his, enjoying the easy rise and build of the pleasure, but he, again, has other plans in mind.

His other hand that was still on your hip slips up, over your lower back, creeping up your spine and coming to rest between your shoulder blades, and he pushes you down, so cheek meets sheets, jaw is released, and now you are face down ass up. “Sorry about this, you’re doing fine sweetheart, but I just have to-”

He doesn’t finish the sentence, instead the pace picks up and you gasp. His hips slamming into yours as he takes you, quick, thrusts deep, grinding into that spot that has you crying out, “Fuck yes!”

“Man, you hear that shit?” He still, somehow, fucks you harder, over the wet sounds and the slap of skin he repeats what you said, louder and joyful, pleasure cracking it around the edges, “Fuck. Yes!” You moan louder, eyes squeezing shut, and he laughs, “God, they got quite a set of lungs.”

To be fair, you think you haven’t actually sounded like this for him, haven’t moaned and cried out, haven’t wanted to scream from pure pleasure. “Look at him.”

The command makes you move on instinct, respond without thought, your head turns, you catch your boyfriends gaze. He looks like he has been crying, he also looks painfully hard, how embarrassing for him, but you aren’t concerned with any of that, you are still moaning dumbly, thoughtless, from the assault of Mickey grinding that sweet spot inside.

“Recognize that? The dumb, drooling, pretty little expression on their face?” Another brutal move of him into you that makes you sob, and he says, “God, wait. I guess you wouldn’t.”

He was so mean, fuck it was making you clench around him, he feels it, clearly, a groan leaves him, “Angel, has he ever made you cum on his surely pathetic excuse for a dick?”

The response is easy, a long and low moan of, “No-oh-ohhh-”, sure he’d gotten you off a few times in other ways but never through straight fucking, you didn’t think you could without some mechanical help or some fingers helping you along, but you think this session, this situation, all of it stacking up, might change that.

He tsk’s like he is disappointed, “Oooh, that won’t do, let’s fix that.”

He is going to, he has to sense it, has to know, you are sure he can feel your plush and soaked walls gripping him, fluttering, on the fucking edge of oblivion and total bliss, a squirming incoherent desperate mess of need.

It starts low, base of your spine and tight breathlessness in your lungs, weak legs and fingers clawing at sheets and the leash breaks. The pleasure spikes and crests and there you are, floating on air, cumming like it is the last thing you will ever do with an ample gush. “Woah! Now that I didn’t know-”

He fucks you through it, wrings every ounce of ecstasy out of your poor exhausted body, still speaking, but you are barely registering it, it sounds like he is close too, strained, speaking through gritted teeth, “-like a fucking fountain.”

You ask for it without realizing it, totally, “Inside.”

“What was that?” You’d said it loud enough for him to hear, but he wants you to repeat yourself and so you do, “Inside!”

“Like I was ever gonna do it anywhere else.”

He holds deep, cums completely buried in you to the hilt, drains himself into you and the warm, the throb of him makes you sigh in satisfaction, body still twitching from the aftershocks of your own bliss.

You are still not all there, drunk on the feeling, he pulls out and keeps your hips up, keeping the mess inside, but when you do start to stir is when he moves you.

Onto your back, legs bent at the knees, and you feel it, a tongue run up you, and it makes your body tense, the sudden overstimulating shock it sends through you makes your body raise. You prop on your elbows, and you see a sight that is as terrifying as it is arousing. Your boyfriend, his face between your thighs, Ghostface behind him, a hand in his hair the knife at his throat, making him eat his cum out of your well fucked cunt.

The man behind the mask speaks again, the amused tone has returned as he forces your boyfriends face into your pussy harder, driving his tongue deeper, “Make sure you get all of it.”

Apparently tonight is long from over.

#Ghostface x reader #Mickey Altier x reader #slasher x reader #BHF asks #BHF writing #This was so fun to do #I love a good nasty cuck fic man fuck #MWAH #Enjoyyy

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