#danny Johnson ghostface x reader

[trick-or-fucking-treat]

The Knife in You Brings Out the Life in Me - Danny Johnson x Reader

Masterlist

Prologue ~

Summary:

Y/n was never close with her cousin Billy and hadn’t seen him in years, but when he shows up at her roadside home, running from the law and with a Stu on his arm, she figures it’s best to let him stay. He wouldn’t.. gut her? Right? Best not take any chances! The real kicker, however, is when their inspiration - the real and original Ghostface - shows up. She has less faith he’ll let her live if she isn’t careful.

"How could this happen? Am I dreaming again? Her body's not moving I'm assuming she's dead"

- The Greatest Story Ever Told, Ice Nine Kills

———

"Fuck, Billy! What'd we do now?" Stu stressed, knife in hand, gesturing wildly.

"Well... our face is on every news station, too many people around here know who we are." Like Stu, Billy still wore his shitty dollar store Ghostface costume, albeit their masks were tossed off to the side. Both were covered in blood, Billy slightly more so, and Billy was trying to keep his cool while Stu made every effort to panic.

"Ok, so.. we need to lie low?"

"Exactly. I have a rich cousin who doesn't live far from here, but still pretty out of the way. She's a recluse, we won't be bothered there... assuming she'll take us in."

After pulling off their first couple murders scot free, Billy and Stu decided they couldn't let the thrill go. Of course it was going to bite them in the ass eventually, but how were they supposed to know karma is a cold hearted bitch? Welp! They sure do now...

Their latest victim managed to get away, and while she didn't see their faces, she was damn sure she knew the killers. The two slash happy teens had taken a hit at another one of their classmates who they weren't too fond of, and they got cocky. Gave a hint hint, wink wink, at who they were behind the masks to scare the poor victim into thinking she was going to get her guts spilled by the guys who sit across the classroom to her in chemistry. It's all part of the thrill!

Except this time the bitch got away and ran to the police.

Stu was quiet for a moment before another thought occurred to him. "What about... you know who..? How will he find us if we drop off the map?"

"For all we know Danny's watching us right now! He's probably laughing about us fucking up.. he'll find us or he won't, that's up to him. Right now we need to get out of dodge."

———

Danny Johnson. The original Ghostface. Billy and Stu thought they were funny copycatting such a famous psycho. He was their role model of sorts.

Things changed when good ol' Jed Olsen started being pally with Billy and Stu, though. He was older. Sort of came out of nowhere. Knew things he shouldn't have known.

At first the pair were worried he knew what they were up to and just needed confirmation before going to the police, but Jed seemed to find it more funny than anything. He had this energy about him that made them cautious.

One night they were getting ready to start stalking another future victim (Miss run-away-and-blab-to-the-police funnily enough) when they got a phone call.

"Do you like scary movies?" The familiar staticky voice had spoken. "Who am I kidding? Of course you do! Why else would you both be starring in one? The question is... are you really the predators? Or are you actually... the prey?" The line had gone dead a moment later.

But when they shared a slightly concerned glance and decided to continue to leave for their midnight hobby, they opened the door to see a matching - though much more pristine mask  - staring back at them.

The Ghostface at the door didn't wear a cheap, scraggly, dollar store Halloween costume like Billy and Stu. He wore thick, black, sturdy material with straps and combat boots. Ohhh fuuuuuck... this guy is serious.

Danny gave them a good scare and let them fear for their lives for a while. Danny's a better killer than them. More experienced. More ruthless, and far more premeditated. But despite planning on killing them at first (they stole his entire thing, they couldn't get away with it, Danny had been planning this for a while) in the moment, he saw potential in them. Also they were a good laugh.

From then on, Danny took them under his wing and turned up when he felt like it to guide them in stalking and nurture their talent for murder.

Danny wasn't typically the kind of guy to help out other killers, especially ones who steal his likeness, but these guys had the same raw psychopathy that Danny sees in himself. And also, what the hell, he gets bored, they buy him free meals, they treat him like a god, what's not love!

And so Billy and Stu met their hero and dedicated their time to someday be as great as him. (Danny knew they'd never live up to him, he can always kill 'em when they get boring).

But now they've fucked up. Their victim got away. Danny's laughing and hiding in a bush somewhere vowing to never let them live it down. And Billy and Stu are hitching a ride to Billy's cousins place, hoping y/n will look past the blood and murder and let them crash for a little while.

———

A/N: ok this is the prologue for my new fic! Now I know I've written fuck all in a long time, and I apologise to anyone who's been waiting on updates to my other fics if you've read any, but I've got to go where the inspiration takes me!

I hope you enjoyed this little intro and please leave a comment if you have any ideas!

Have a great day/night,

~ trick-or-fucking-treat

[fromduck]

Me with you guys simping over hot men

[toxicanonymity]

omg the way every inch makes me drool idk what u did to me i haven’t been the same since 😃 ur so talented i owe u my kidney for that fic alone ! would ever consider part two?? no pressure !!!

EVERY INCH 2

2200 words, m!ghostface x f!reader

follows Every Inch. NEXT: Every inch 3

SERIES MASTERLIST

A/N: He's never unmasked. He is night walks coded. Thank you for all the love on my first Ghostface fic. This was a "one shot fail" because of your engagement & enthusiasm. WARNINGS: I8+ piv, noncon, he calls himself daddy, voyeurism, dirty talk, masturbation, knifeplay, hair pulling, manhandling, choking kinda, degradation, pet names. NO USE OF Y/N. 

SUMMARY: Last time you saw ghostface, he was unconscious from the car wreck and you had your way with him. Now, he's coming to take what's his.

You've put Ghostface behind you, at least in terms of fearing for your life. He's finally left you alone. He must be too humiliated to face you after you restrained him and had your way with him in the car while he was passed out. You still look at the picture you took every day.  You'd like to get it printed and stick it on your bathroom mirror.  He looks so pathetic with his own mess all over his robe. But it's not just the humiliation you love to see. It's his cock. . .

Yeah, his cock.  You've thought about it more than a few times. He would've given you every inch. All you had to do was ask. And the video of him whimpering? You save that for special occasions. Like when you need to cum in a hurry. 

It's Friday night and you're lying in bed after getting home from seeing a movie.  You make sure your vibrator is charged before you start reading, but soon enough you get distracted.  You're looking at your video of Ghostface coming all over himself when a call pops up on the screen. No ringtone.  Your phone is still on silent from the theater.  

The restricted number still makes your heart jump even after such an empowering victory. But you rip the bandaid off and answer it on the first ring. "Hello?"

"So... how'd you like the movie?" the voice changer asks you. 

You panic and hang up, but when he calls right back, you answer again. "This isn't funny, whoever you are."

"You know it's me, baby. You feel it in your. . . pants."

"What do you want?"

"I asked how you liked the movie." 

Friday night. Lucky guess. You know he’s not going to let it go, so you might as well answer. You’re not going to give him the satisfaction of acting aghast that he knows what you did tonight.  "Fine, I liked it. It was fun,” you say dismissively. 

"Picked a bad time to refill your drink. . .  Missed a great kill."

Your heart jumps. ". . .you were there?" The theater wasn't even that crowded. How could he go undetected? Surely you would have recognized something about a man you rode into oblivion. 

He's bemused. "What, you thought I was gone? Nowhere?”

"wishful thinking," you reply. 

Ghostface says, “Oh, we both know what you really wish for. . .”

You’re not even going to argue. 

“How was your date?" 

"How was yours with your hand?" You retort.

"You didn't look interested.” 

"What, are you gonna ask me out?" Your face heats up as you hear your own words.

"Not tonight. 'Cause you've got a date with that toy and my picture, don't ya?”

You freeze. 

He taunts, "Want a third wheel?"

You ask, "How long have you been watching me?"

"Never stopped, sugar." You feel like a fool for thinking he had. “I’ve just been a little. . . distracted.” 

You scoff. 

". . . Okay, did you call just to talk?"

"Wanted some audio with my visual this time."

"Pervert."

“oh I'm the pervert," he chides. Your face is burning up.

"You know, you’ve still got something of mine.”  His knife. You’ve hid it somewhere special.  “Keep comin’ for it. . .but don’t wanna interrupt you.”  

You look out your window, which faces the woods.  "Cause you put on a good show, baby." There’s never been a reason to close the curtains.  You preferred to see danger coming. Danger like him. A lot of good that’s done you. 

“You’re a creature of habit, aren’t you?” 

Are you that predictable?  

“Lucky for me,” he adds darkly.  His breathing becomes audible.  “Oh, you like this, don't you . . . knew ya would. . .  .  .Dripping already.” His voice is steady through the equalizer, but his speech pattern tells you his dick is hard. And god damn if he isn’t turning you on. 

“Dip a finger and show daddy how wet you are.” 

Before you know it, you're doing it. You don’t show him, but you curiously dip you fingers and pull apart the clear string of of your arousal

“Two fingers . . let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”  You lie there clenching your thighs together. 

“Ah, fuck it. Go ahead, turn it on,” he says but you don’t move. You clench your thighs together.  “Turn it on,” he repeats firmer, and something possesses you to turn your vibrator on. 

“Yeah, that’s it . . .”

You don’t even need the picture now, or the video, or your reading. But you don’t exactly want to let him make you come this fast. 

He sighs and says, “You’ve got a nice, juicy pussy." He spits, which the voice changer doesn’t process.

You close your eyes and recall what it felt like impaling yourself on his cock. 

"You don't have to say it," he reassures you menacingly. "I know I’ve got a nice cock.” 

He’s right about that.  You close your eyes as you touch yourself.  You’re too horny to think straight, but in the back of your mind, you try to tell yourself he killed your friends. He killed your friends. It doesn’t make you any less turned on. You sigh in shame at yourself. How does Ghostface have you wrapped around his finger?

“Oh, it’s only natural, baby. This cock’ll fuck you right up.” God, why does that turn you on? “In the guts and the head.” 

"Real shame I wasn’t awake.” He breathes heavily for a few seconds. "Coulda been even better for you.” 

You fail to suppress a moan as heat is bubbling in your core. 

“Yeah. . .Can’t stop thinkin' about this cock, can ya?” 

You turn up the intensity of your vibe. 

“Not everyday someone takes every inch of this.” He moans weakly then spits again. “Filthy girl.  Swallowed it right up.” 

“So tell me, sugar," his breathing is even heavier now. "How do you want it?”

“What if i don’t” you lie, then gasp at the tension in your core.

“Then why’d you take it,” he says with a bite and the heavy breathing stops. 

“Because,” you pant. “It was there.”

You’re getting close.  “How do you want me,” you self-loathingly ask. He doesn’t answer. You look at your phone and he’s gone. Shit. You open the video you took of him and as soon as you hear him whimper, your body jerks as the tension bursts inside you. As soon as you finish pulsing, the regret hits you like a tidal wave. So fucked up. Soooo disgusting.  You need a shower. 

—---

You take a long, hot shower, listening to music. You sigh, feeling a little better already. You turn off the water.

“Soaking wet. That’s how I want you.” You freeze and the only sound is the dripping water for a few seconds while the song changes.  

“Come on, you’re smarter than this.” The voice changer echoes through your bathroom and you almost fall over. “What’s next? Going down to the basement?”

You stand silently in the shower with your heartbeat echoing in your ears.  There’s nothing you can do.  You squat down, hugging your knees.  There’s no good option.   

The shower curtain slowly draws open and he looms above you.

“My turn, baby."  The glint of a knife–your own kitchen knife–catches your eye. He tilts his head slightly and observes you for a moment.  Then he pulls your hair and violently forces you to your feet. You begin to slip and he catches you, then manhandles you out of the tub and you whimper. You’re thrashing around wet and naked.  He drags you to the bathroom sink and puts you between him and the sink, both of you facing the mirror. He reaches out and wipes the mirror with his robe to make sure you can see. 

The sight is surreal. You’re completely nude with Ghostface up against you.  One gloved hand cups your breast while the other raises the knife.  He stays behind you and holds your own kitchen knife to your throat.  

He inhales audibly. “So clean and so filthy.”  

You elbow him in the gut. “Let go of me.” 

“Afraid not, baby. . .” The hand leaves your breast and slides lower.  He presses on your hip, bringing you tight against him. “Too late now.” His hips push forward and the massive shape of his hard cock makes you weak. 

He holds you still with just one of his big arms as you struggle.  “Coulda had it how ya wanted.” 

The unwelcome throb between your legs is spreading through your abdomen. 

“Now you’re gonna take it right here.”  He keeps you pinned to the counter, the arm with the knife holding you still while he lifts his robe and tugs his PJ pants down.  “You’ve put me behind you after all.”  He jerks you back against him, pulling you off the counter and holding you tight against his hard dick.  He lightly trails the tip of the knife down your cleavage and your stomach, dipping into your belly button on its way down to your mound. Then he holds it handle-up and teases your cunt with the flat of the knife as you watch in the mirror. The cold metal sends a shiver down your spine and you watch your nipples harden.

“Who are you?”

“Your favorite bad guy. Ask me a. . . harder one.” He grinds himself against you.

“What do you want?”

“To know what your insides feel like.” You suck in a deep breath and register the smell of weed as his cock twitches against your bare skin. “When I’m awake,” he adds. 

He pries your legs apart with his knee, then his glove brushes your inner thighs as he aligns his cock at your entrance. “Oh you’re ready ready,” he says. He notches himself with the thick head of his cock resting snug against your wet little hole, then he holds you tight and shoves himself into you with a sigh.  You have to try not to moan with the most welcome stretch. “Hell yeah,” the mask says into your ear. Thank God you’re so wet, because there is a lot of him. He pulls back, then slams into you, bottoming out with a grunt then another sigh. You watch your face in the mirror and try to wipe the enjoyment off it. 

The hand with the knife rests against your chest as he pounds you. “You’re lucky you’re so hot.” You want to memorize the feeling of his cock inside you so you can come to it later instead of giving him the satisfaction right now.  He pants as he thrusts into you harder.  “So. . .damn. . . hot.” You look down watching your breasts jiggle as he rails you. “I don’t think so. . . baby.” He grabs your chin and makes you look back up at the mirror. Your drooping eyelids give away how good you feel. 

“Take it like a bad girl.” He grunts and brutally fucks you in the way you’re afraid only he can. No, no, you shouldn’t be thinking thoughts like this. “A real bad girl.” A climax is gathering in your lower belly.  “Cock hungry little slut,” he bites and it makes you twitch. “This pussy’s mine now, you know.” 

He buries himself inside you for another minute and makes it rough. “Now or never baby," he pants. “Know you wanna come on this cock.” God, you do. “Do it now.”  He slams into you harder than ever and groans as he begins to pulse inside you.  You can’t stop it. The feeling of his climax trips you into your own.  Your needy cunt chokes his cock, milking him of an unfathomable load.  He fucks you through it and your body jerks into his imposing, robed form. His cum is in every crevice of your core.  You can’t help but moan and sigh.

“Good girl,” he says.

His cock slides out of you, leaving a void that slowly caves in on itself. He tucks it back into his pants. 

------

Ghostface forcibly positions your chin to take one last look in the mirror. Then he picks up your phone from the counter and forces you to swipe the camera on.  He points it at the mirror and says, “say cheese.” He tosses your phone back on the counter, then slams you chest-first into the back of the door with an impact. He holds the knife to the side of your neck and says, “you’re welcome.” He really smells like weed.

“Now where’s my knife.”

“I don’t have it,” you claim. 

“I don’t believe you.” 

“What’s so special about it?”

“It’s mine.” 

“The cops have it.” 

“No they don’t. Why are you lying?”

You’re not really sure. He presses the flat of the knife so hard against your throat you start to choke. “Okay,” you manage hoarsely. He lets you breathe.  You look behind him toward the toilet. 

He drags you by the elbow to the toilet. He opens the back of it and the knife is wrapped up in a grocery bag. “You watch too many movies,” he says. He pushes you out of the way, opens the door, and leaves. The song turns to Call Me by Blondie.

NEXT: PART 3

--------------------------

Please engage (reblog/comment)  if you want more of this <333 It might go a long way in motivation.

Yes this is my night walks coded ghostface but I think most people reading this don't know what night walks is lol.

Call Me:This Blog::Red Right Hand:Canon. But in this case it especially makes sense 🥹

@hearteyed-shawty had a song rec last time: I'm Yours by Isabel Derosa.

Slasher master list

@ghostslittlegf @sunflowerleii @igotmajordaddyissues @rileyquinn07

[2kiran]

❛ 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦, 𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥, 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐢ó𝐧 ❜ ➖ drb.

pairing: ghostface x reader content: bottom ghostf, top male reader, unspecified m!character, held at knifepoint genre: smut | series masterlist

“Fucking—!” Ghostface sucks in a gasp, the metallic blade gleaming under the narrowed light over your forms. “With something as big as this,” On quivering knees and one gloved hand planted on your abdomen, he lifts. “y’sure know how t–to, oh fuck me—” He drops himself down, his walls clinging to the base of your dick. “—hide it. Bet you like how a killer feels, don’t you? Yeah, you do.”

You huff, your skin adorned with a thick sheen of sweat. Pleasure rolls down the length of your spine, the muscles of your thighs trembling with the effort to not buck up into his warming heat. He leans down, grinding his hips forward as he holds up the pointed end of the knife to the center of your throat. “You like your victim.” You deflect, and he clenches around you to punch out a sharp intake of breath from you. He isn’t doing greatly himself, the bursts of a peeking orgasm building in the pit of his belly setting his mind to a blur.

There’s an itch he’s unable to scratch—one that the head of your cock can only graze and prod. But it isn’t enough. You’re not touching him, disregarding the fact that he was the one who commanded you not to. He needed your hands on him, on his leaky, aching dick, and on his neck, even. “Haah, fuuuuuck, shut it.” He pants, his tip throbbing with slickness. The weapon is dangerously close to your sensitive skin, ready to delve into your sickly blood and drown within it.

And you knew he’d take horrifying amusement in seeing you wounded. Wounded with a brand-like marking, giving you a reminder that you’re his. Ghostface’s man, whether you want the title or not. You’ll be haunted with the glimpse of his dark, tainted robe and that long-lasting expression of screaming.

“That’s right...” he mumbles under his breath, burying his obscured face to the crook of your neck and shoulder. He doesn’t realize he’s already speaking his fantasies, his need for you. He rides you harder, his walls spasming as he’s hit by a familiar warning of a climax approaching. “You’re mine, oohhh shit, this s’all mine.”

Your mind is swimming, your hands balled into fists. Your cock pulses inside of him, a numbing tightness coiling in your gut. His speech is hushed, meant to keep it to himself, but your ears manage to pick up on the soft syllables. You can’t deny it, not with your mouth running dry, and certainly not with your cock nestled to the hilt. He feels you jab at his sweet spot, sending the bundle of nerves aflame. Ghostface whines, eyes squeezing shut while his pace stutters.

His brain runs static. His body shudders, legs quaking almost violently. It lasts relatively long, his subconscious setting the knife beside your head to avoid accidentally cutting your jaw. Ghostface wanted you. He needed you; and when you paint his hole white, he begins to think about how badly he needs you to feel the same way.

[imauthicktic]

Slashers incorrect quotes

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N: *hands Ghostface a heart shaped box* will you be mine?

Ghostface, takes box and opens it to find a knife inside: I aint complainin', sweet cheeks, but I thought this was a proposal

Y/N: actually, this is a blood oath

Ghostface: understood, go ahead

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Baby Firefly: *crying while Y/N comforts them*

Baby Firefly: *back to normal* sorry I was vulnerable with you. Do you still think I'm hot?

Y/N:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N, Chucky, and Tiffany Valentine playing two truths and one lie

Tiffany: *talking to Chucky* You're tackey and cheap. Plus, I hate you.

Chucky: Ha! nice try! all of those are a lie!

Chucky whispering to Y/N: she was lying, right?

Y/N:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N: why are you following me?

Billy: because we're dating now

Y/N: okay... what about Stu?

Billy: we're a package deal

Stu: buy one idiot, get one free

Y/N: *gasps* I love BOGOS!!!

[fenriswine]

Pov: you punched him in the face

[kleinne10]

Halloween! AKA, Y/N/reader/anon's best night (with size difference because deez nu-).

I originally made them at Mcdonald's, but my brain went funky... This was also kinda experimental? Drawing with a mouse sucks, but I like the thick brush.

Sorry for not posting anything! Will drop some Fallout shitposts this weekend

[theres-a-body-here]

Love Letter Aftermath

First part

The realization of receiving a love admission sinks in for the killers

Characters: Oni, Trapper, Deathslinger, Mastermind, Cannibal, Ghostface Warnings: Some spice Male!reader

The Oni - Kazan Yamaoka

He's angry

Angry at you for giving him that damn letter

And angry at himself for keeping it

He keeps it on his shrine

Even while he tries to distract himself with training between trials, your letter is all that's on his mind

At least once a day, for a couple of minutes, he stares at the letter while working up the courage to crumple it and dispose of it

He never can

When Rin found the letter, his heat sunk

She thought it was cute, but rolled her eyes at how Kazan was acting

The days following the letter, you've noticed in trials with Oni, he never downs you with his Kanabo anymore, only his Katana

Even during chases, when he's activated his blood fury right behind you, he stampedes off somewhere to down anyone else

And when he carries you to hooks, you've noticed how gently he holds you

But he never stays after hooking you and seems to avoid your gaze

Strangely, Rin has been giving you some leeway during trials as well

The Trapper - Evan MacMillan

When he got back to his realm after the trial, he immediately went to work on making a box for the letter

Yeah, a whole keepsake box for a single letter

He places it next to the box where he keeps his old drawings

Whenever he sees you in trials, he still gets those butterflies

If you step in one of his traps, he's immediately rushing to where he heard you scream

If he sees any other survivors trying to free you, he swats at them

Evan gently pulls at the jaw of the trap and pulls it apart, letting you retract your injured foot

He's trying his hardest not to ogle your legs

"Sorry," he mutters gruffly, his hands holding your leg softly while he inspects the damage

He picked up some gauze that one of the others dropped and begins to bandage your wound

He can feel your gaze burning holes into his mask as he works

He's the one to break the silence

"I've killed you... and your friends, over and over."

There's a long pause on your end before you respond

"I know"

You two leave it at that

The Deathslinger - Caleb Quinn

Caleb keeps the letter under the bar counter in his realm

Whenever he returns from an exhausting or lost trial, he looks at it

A small part of him still thinks you're messing with him

He's way too nervous and skittish around you now to do anything, so you're gonna have to initiate everything

In trials, you do your best to spend time with him

Especially when you insist that he treats you no different

When he carries you to hook, you take the moment to touch him

You turn your head to plant a kiss on the back of his neck

Caleb visibly shivers and lets out a groan

"Yer tryin' ta kill me, ain'tcha?"

"Is it working?"

Despite you asking otherwise, he tends to leave you alone when he can in trials, opting to hide the others

If you confront him about it, he'll deny it

The Mastermind - Albert Wesker

He keeps your letter in the inner pocket of his jacket

You definitely have his full attention now

Don't expect any special treatment, because he's not gonna give it

In fact, he seems to actively seek you out first if he knows you're in his trial

Wesker gets angry when you can't loop him for more than a couple of minutes

"Are you even trying? Pathetic"

While carrying you to a hook, he's lecturing you all the way

"You didn't run it tight enough. You were too greedy with the pallet. You didn't check your blind spots."

He'll get even more irritated if you start to tear up

Can't you see he's trying to help you?

Wesker refuses to have someone so vulnerable as an admirer

So you better get to it

If you do manage to improve and become better in trials, his attitude changes

It goes from scoldings to rewards

He takes off his gloves to hold your chin and pull you close

You feel his lips ghost over your cheek and shiver when he tightens his grip on you

He stares at your face, drinking up your reactions

And then he lets you go, watching as your face twists from dazed to confused

"What? Were you expecting a kiss?"

You're gonna have to do a lot more if you wanna get a smooch from him

The Cannibal - Bubba Sawyer

He tapped your letter to the side of his chainsaw

He gets all giddy when he glances at it during his sweeps, especially if he manages to down a survivor

It's his good luck charm

If he spots you in a trial, he'll literally drop everything to rush over and give you hug

Bubba would honestly hug you all trial if you let him

He's definitely become a bit more protective over you, maybe even prone to jealousy

He doesn't even let anyone work on gens with you, revving his chainsaw if anyone gets too close

Once everyone gets the message and leaves you two be, he'll sit behind you as you work and hug you

Expect lots of nuzzles

Bubba whines when the gen is completed and you have to stand up to find a new one

He follows you like a puppy until you find the next one and the process begins anew

The Ghostface - Danny Johnson

Danny doesn't really have anywhere he can store the letter safely

So he does the logical thing and memorizes it's contents, word for word

He doesn't care what happens to the paper

Sometimes during trials, he'll tease you by reciting it during chases

Even adding things you're certain you never added

"And I promise to always let you smash whenever and wherever you want," he says, mimicking your voice as you dangle from the hook

"I NEVER WROTE THAT!!"

Being her favorite, The Entity doesn't care if Danny spares you every trial

But he won't

Because he's a meanie

"No hard feelings, right boo?" He coos as he plunges his blade into your back

If you're sore about it, he's more than happy to make it up to you

He'll run his cold leather-gloved hands under your shirt, pressing you against a wall as you try to stay angry

"Come on, don't be like that," he mutters into your ear, squishing your sides

If you fold now, he'll tease you for being whipped

But if you stay strong, he'll pull out the big guns

He buries his masked face into your neck, slowly grinding his hips against yours

"You feel that, baby? You feel how sorry I am?" He growls, pressing his hard-on against you

[diejager]

Riding

“Fuck, babe,” he groaned, his head thrown back in the moment of exquisite pleasure. “Fuckin’ hell, you’re- tight!”

In a daze, he reached for your hips, warm palms clutching your naked flesh as he tried to ground himself, trying to stay coherent in the frenzy of sinful pleasure. You felt whole, squatting over him in the corner of the killer’s shack, skin bare and naked to his hazel eyes and hungry mouth. He watched you roll your hips, grinding yourself against the hardness of his cock, his trimmed hair tickling your nub, sending you both shivering. You from the constant stimulation, and him, from your sudden tightness around him. 

He arched his back, rutting into you, his strong arms moving along his shaft. It was a soft motion of pushing in and pulling out, in and out, again and again, until you were both panting and moaning for more. You met in the middle, your lips dancing across his in a passionate tango of love and obsession. You pushed off the ground, thighs burning at the work of riding him, he helped you move, supporting your weight with his hands and his hips thrusting upwards. 

“God-” he gasped, hissing when you bit his lower lip, pulling it when he tried to pull away. His chest rumbled in a low chuckle, pushing his body flush against yours and grinding into you. “You’re so fuckin’ hot.” 

You let out a cheeky laugh, hands roaming the expanse of his coat, nudging the flap away and running your nails over his tight muscles. You dug your short nails into him, hearing him groan, hips stuttering as you slammed down on his lap. He made the most addicting sounds you’ve ever heard, low and raspy, or deep and teasing. Danny had a way with words, his tongue singing the best songs one could wish to hear when he was moaning and groaning under you.

“I could tell you the same, Ghostie.”

He slurred out a moan at your nickname. He loved it when you called him Ghostie, you fully embraced his darker side, even playing little games with him when he asked. Maybe you were as sick as he was, wanting to give yourself to him, letting him fuck you however he wanted and giving him whatever he wanted. But he was as devoted to you as you were, he’d kneel and beg for you, he’d let you use him as your toy and he’d do anything for you. You were both a blessing and a curse to each other.

You gasped, back arching and eyes rolling. You clawed at his shoulder, drawing lines of beautiful crimson from your love down his chest as you rolled your hips. Danny hissed, driving skyward jerkily, biting back his moan as he came. He filled you in waves of potent cream, the white cum dripping down his balls and his puckered rim when it became too much for your tight snatch. He gave a few more thrusts, riding out your peaks until his cock grew soft and he supported your limp figure, tired and satiated. 

“Love you, doll,” he murmured, his swollen lips finding their rightful place on the crown of your head. 

“Love ya too, Danny.”

[filthyslashertoad]

Slashers & Misc. Reaction to Their S/o Slapping Their Ass

( I feel like I've written this before...but I don't think so)

Michael Myers

As soon as your hand lands on his ass, everything goes silent, the only thing you can hear is the sound of your slap reverberating in the room.

If he does decide to get you back for what you did, your ass will be purple afterward(He's not sorry btw).

Danny Johnson/Jed Olson

IS A FREAK

Bites his lip afterwards and winks at you

Stu Macher

Turns it into a game by sneaking up on you the next day and slapping your ass

Runs away laughing.

Bo Sinclair

Suffers from flat-ass syndrome.

You think you almost hit his spine because of how flat it was.

Spends the rest of the day telling you that he does have a butt.

Carlos Oliviera

Is a lil too into it.

Just like Danny he winks at you.

Begins slapping your ass more often(Totally doesn't turn into him just groping your butt for several minutes)

Karl Heisenberg

Yelps before laughing, *Que Seth Rogen laugh*.

Chases you around with a metal paddle for the rest of the afternoon

Pyramid Head

Buns of steel.

You end up hurting your hand because of how solid his ass is.

Hannibal Lecter

Judges you.

Asks why you can't just slap your own butt if you like it so much

Leon Kennedy

Gets caught off guard and lets out a half moan-scream.

Gets embarrassed and avoids everyone for the rest of the day.

[iku-tihku]

Ghostface x reader idea

cw for stalking, mention of murder, for once Ghostface isn't the one doing the stalking

You have a stalker. That much is undeniable. The creepy phonecalls, detailed descriptions of what you'd done during the day, sometimes an odd sound came in from outside during the long nights left you wondering if this'd be the last night you'd sleep in your own bed, and you hoped the sock covered bat would be enough to keep you safe, should they get bold and break in.

Why this Ghostface, as the caller introduced themself as, chose you, you weren't sure, but at the same time it was pointless to wonder, people don't need a reason.

Of course your exhaustion was evident, as well as the fearful glances over your shoulder, wondering if they were somewhere in the crowd. Outside you were a target but at least you weren't alone, surely, should they act, someone would see something, someone would help.

And he? Your dear friend, the monster in disguise?

He wasn't happy with the copycat who'd stolen his look and decided it'd be wise to torment you with it.

Unacceptable, of course, all of it. But what better way to spend his time than to be a knight clad in cloak armor for you?

Slowly the phonecalls stopped. The noises were just animals rummaging through trashcans. And a gory scene in the newspapers, detailing the death of some poor soul found in the woods, brutally murdered and abandoned, though the people's opinion soon changed when it evidence of the stalking spree was uncovered. The people celabrated the death of Ghostface, thinking themself free of the terror, unaware they'd celebrated the death of a cheap knockoff.

And there was something you kept to yourself, told no one of, a letter that had appeared on your doorstep the same day the body was discovered.

"You don't have to worry your pretty little head about them anymore, dollface ;)

~The real deal"

Am I cooking or is it just the lack of sleep

[trick-or-fucking-treat]

Ghostface (Danny Johnson) Masterlist

Blog Info

Masterlist

Fics

• The Knife in You Brings Out the Life in Me - Danny Johnson x Reader

- Prologue | Chapter 1

Summary:

Y/n was never close with her cousin Billy and hadn’t seen him in years, but when he shows up at her roadside home, running from the law and with a Stu on his arm, she figures it’s best to let him stay. He wouldn’t.. gut her? Right? Best not take any chances! The real kicker, however, is when their inspiration - the real and original Ghostface - shows up. She has less faith he’ll let her live if she isn’t careful.

One-Shots

None yet!

Headcannons

None yet!

Feel free to request!

[doestalker]

the reader must serve cunt regardless of gender or lack of it

[toxicanonymity]

EVERY INCH 3.

4.4k words, m!ghostface x f!reader

Every inch 🔪 Every inch 2 🔪 MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: Ghostface watches you and calls you. He gets bored, and one of your friends gets killed. You try to swear ghostface off, but he stalks you. You want revenge.

A/N: THANK YOU for all the love. Masked Ghostface, inspired by canon gfs & night walks. HC who you want. Enough recap in the first paragraph to read as a one shot.

WARNINGS: I8+ noncon p in v, exhibitionism, voyeurism, gun play, choking, degradation, slut shaming, drugs, creampie, noncon breeding, phone sex, masturbation, knife play, a modicum of canon-typical plot/violence. Gf calls himself daddy. DEAD DOVE. NO USE OF Y/N. Starts in GHOSTFACE POV.

You aren't doing yourself any favors by thinking about him every time you get off. You should get on tinder. Go on another date. Get a boyfriend. But there's too much now. You've got a video of him whimpering with his cock out after you had your way with him, and a picture of him with cum all over his robe a minute later. And then there's the mirror pic he took in your bathroom. He's behind you, holding you naked in front of him.  There's a look of arousal on your face, and you must be so ashamed, but you keep coming back to look at it every night. . .and you're not the only one. 

Ghostface air dropped it to himself right after he took the pic. You should really be more careful with your settings. And your blinds, and your curtains. But you don't wanna be more careful, do you?  You've got everything the cops could need to put him away. You even had his DNA, and you kept it to yourself. Allll to yourself. And you’d like to have more of it, wouldn't you? It's fascinating, really, how bad you want his cock. 

You haven't heard from him in weeks, but he still comes by every once in a while.  He sees your neighbor check in on you, and you keep looking at the time on your apple watch until he leaves.  He sees you try on your slutty Halloween costumes– your backside looks best in that tight ass nurse dress, but god damn, your tits in that pleather.  What a pretty pussy you are. Meow.  He sees you get dressed for bed, and just in time. 

You check your phone and glance out your bedroom window before you take out your vibrator.  Ghostface takes out his cock and lifts his mask to spit on it. This is his season, you know. You must think about him all the time. Every time you see one of those phony Stab costumes. Every time you carve a pumpkin.  He lets you get a head start building to your climax. God damn, you want that cock, and you do an awful job hiding it when you see the call from a restricted number.  You look at your phone, biting your lip, and let it ring for a few seconds before you wet your lips and answer it. But you don't say anything.  Ohh, playin’ hard to get, are ya?

Ghostface admires the stiffness of his cock in his hand and strokes it while he watches you try not to speak first.  It's quite the game of chicken–at least a full minute of silence. He breathes heavier as he strokes himself, and then he hears the buzz of your toy. 

"Mmm, good kitty."

"What do you want?" Your breathing is heavy, too. 

"Wanna know how bad ya want this cock."

"Is your cock all you think about?"

He breathes a laugh. "That'd make two of us, wouldn't it?" 

You scoff, still touching yourself, teasing your clit with your vibrator.  

"Yeah that's it," he pants, and you arch your back. "Come for daddy."  You come so fast it's pitiful. 

You're easy. Too easy. He's getting bored. 

You're a bad, bad girl, and he wants to find out how bad. You know, he's never much cared for your "friend" Marla. He suspects you don't either, based on the way you tense at her hug in the bookstore.

—-----you-------

A DILF cop comes by your house. Must be new to the force since you've never seen him. You're used to them checking on you. The COP asks if he can come in, probably trying to be thorough,  you think.  But he asks you to take a seat, and he sits down next to you on your sofa.  When he has trouble meeting your eyes, your pulse quickens. 

He knows. He must know somehow. He knows you're a sick fuck who has phone sex with ghostface and gets off to his dick pics every night. Maybe he even knows you fucked him. He might even know you forced him. You're blanking on excuses if they find the photos in your phone. The cop leans forward and his biceps strain the short sleeves of his tan uniform.  He wrings his large, veiny hands as he turns his head to look at you.  Finally, his big brown eyes meet your gaze, and he tells you, "He's back. Got a crime scene down the block"

The relief lasts about ten seconds, and then you don't have to feign your horror. The blood rushes from your head to your pounding heart. You foolishly thought his killing days might be behind him. 

"Officer. . ." 

"Call me Javi."

"How do you know it's him, Javi?" You challenge him. 

"You really wanna know?" He raises his eyebrows at you. 

"It's him, sweetheart." He puts a big, warm hand on your upper back, then slides it up to squeeze your shoulder. "Got someone who can stay with ya?"

You take a few seconds to answer, then whisper, “yeah.” 

"Well, if not . . . " he sighs and leans way back on the sofa to reach into his uniform pants for his wallet. "Got a pen?" 

He writes his personal number on a business card and leaves it with you.  As you let him out the front door, sirens are wailing. 

Later, you see the crime scene online. Marla isn't just dead, she's stabbed, slit, and bled dry. The water runs red in the fountain you pass every day on the way out of your neighborhood.  A needed reminder of the sicko you’re dealing with. 

Over the next few days, you delete the ghostface photos and the video. You get a call from a restricted number and don’t answer it. You get a text from an unsaved number: don’t tell me you thought I changed. 

You delete it. When you’re leaving the neighborhood one day, you spot Javi in an unmarked car. When you get to your destination, you text him “why are you following me?” 

Like a boomer, he calls you instead of texting back.  You don’t answer. Then he replies, “Why don’t you have company? You shouldn’t be alone.” 

You send back, “If I have company, will you leave me alone?”

“I can give you some space, sure. But I have a job to do.”

“And what’s that?”

“Keeping you safe.”

—--

You’re not going to let ghostface control your life. You don’t know what would happen if you ran into him now, and you try not to think about it, although you do find yourself going into the trash folder on your phone to look at what you deleted. You make plans to go out with friends. It’s the first weekend of October, and there’s a huge Halloween festival. You put on your nurse costume.

An hour before your friends arrive, your doorbell rings. You look at your app and it’s Javi. Well, this is awkward, you think as you finish pulling up your black, thigh-high fishnets. You answer the door and let Javi in, trying not to let your eyes linger on the way his arms stretch his sleeves. You decline to sit down. 

“Look, if you’re gonna go out, you should carry this,” he says, then looks you up and down and his gaze lingers on your cleavage. You clear your throat. He swallows and gives a subtle smile like yeah so what?  “Gonna wear a purse?” he asks. 

“Wasn’t planning on it.” You roll your eyes. 

You reluctantly change into the cat costume and wear a bat purse. You go out with your friends and everyone gets way too drunk. Your friend Sam gets in an altercation after a frat party, and your other friends have to restrain her and walk her home. You’re tired and you don’t want to deal with it. You insist you’ll be fine since you’re armed.  You decide to walk a couple blocks before you order your ride home so you can wait somewhere with more people around. 

—--ghostface—-

You filthy little slut. Are you enjoying yourself? Ignoring him, playing hard to get, acting like you’re not flattered, then teasing him, prancing around Woodsboro looking like a handjob costs $20. Walking alone through an alley – you really are a dumb bitch, aren’t you? 

Ghostface knows where you’re headed. He’s seen you take this route before, so he gets ahead of you and waits.  He’s vaping in the shadows behind a fire escape in the alley. When he hears the click of your slutty boots, he hits send: a dark alley? lmao. He hears the ding on your phone and the click of your heels slows down right before you reach the fire escape.  no point running, he sends. Then he brings the vape pen under his mask and sucks in a mouth full of smoke, and your phone illuminates your face and your eyes widen.

—--you—--

The alley smells like weed. You’re reading the texts when ghostace appears from behind the fire escape, coming at you with his robe flowing behind him.  He only has one glove on. His gloved hand grabs your throat and he pins you to the wall. You choke and gasp for air. He tilts his mask and a small amount of smoke billows out of the dark mesh at the top of his long, black mouth. He eases up on your throat only to move his hand to your jaw and tighten his grip, squeezing your cheeks to keep your mouth open as the smoke billows thicker and closer. His mask is only an inch from your mouth. You close your eyes and breathe in, and as he releases the smoke into your mouth, your clit throbs.  You've got butterflies in your chest, being close to him again. You cough. 

"Good girl," he says as he relaxes his grip on your jaw.  Then his knee nudges your purse out of the way and wedges your thighs open. 

“Bet ya miss me more than Marla, don’t ya?”

If only he wasn’t right. There’s a fire burning in the pit of your stomach just being close to him. But Javi will probably be here any minute, and you need to put up a fight so they won't be onto you. You abruptly knee ghostface in the groin. He grunts and falls backward only slightly. 

"Bad kitty." He takes you by the throat again as you try to fight back. “Bad, bad girl.” He hasn't brandished his knife, but you know he has it. You can't get your gun out quickly enough. You look at your phone and it flies out of your hand as Ghostface grabs your wrist. 

He lets go of you and picks your phone up off the ground, then walks away, robe trailing behind him as he disappears into the night.  

You try to follow him, but he loses you. The audacity–he shotguns you, gets you all riled up, takes your phone, and leaves you, just assuming you won’t do anything about it. Assuming you’ll chase him. You think about the fountain scene. You think about him leaving you. Rage eclipses your desire. If you see him, you might actually shoot him.  Now all you have is your metro card to get home, and luckily you’re close enough to the train station.  

–-

Scattered groups of drunk college students stumble around, bicker, and laugh. 

The train doors are open and you jog to make it in time, just barely squeezing in before the door closes behind you.  The car is full, but not packed. A Freddy Kruger makes room for you, and you stand with your hand braced on the pole. You get a message on your apple watch, meaning ghostface must be in bluetooth distance. 

always wanted to see you on the pole. 

You look behind you, and there he is, sitting at the back of the car.  You should run, but you’re gonna get your phone back at the very least. There’s too much damage he could do with what’s on it.  As the passengers finish unloading, you discreetly open your purse and put your hand on your gun, then set your sights on ghostface, who’s manspreading and sitting back.  The only other company in the back of the train car is a Michael Myers who looks to be passed out drunk. 

You take out the gun and turn the safety off as you approach ghostface in your slutty cat costume. He pulls back his head and cowers in an exaggerated oh, i’m scared move. He stays quiet, for once. 

“My phone,” you tell him. 

He looks around, pretending like he has no idea what you’re talking about. 

“Now,” you order and put your finger on the trigger. He takes a phone out of his pocket, but it’s not yours. 

“What the hell’s wrong with you,” you ask. The train jolts and you’re propelled onto him.  You brace yourself with your free hand on his strong shoulder, and when you feel his hard muscle, butterflies swarm to your core. If he isn’t going to offer up your phone, you’ll have to find it yourself.  You press the muzzle of the gun into his neck, through the fabric of his mask. He freezes. You reach under his robe and pat him down, finding nothing in the front pockets of his jeans. You should check his back pockets, but first you grab his crotch while you’re at it and laugh when he’s semi-hard. 

“Cock’s the only thing you’re good for, and this is what you’ve got for me?” His mask tilts down, watching you grope him.  You savor the feeling of control. “Worthless,” you spit.  Desire bubbles between your thighs as you feel him harden in your grip. Fuck it, you’re gonna take him one last time. You don’t want the last memory of all this to be him dominating you in your bathroom. You wanna go out on top. You fumble with his button and zipper with your free hand, then command, “Take it out.” 

He tilts his mask at you, then looks behind you as though seeing who’s around. 

“No one’s looking,” you mutter. “Stop fucking around.” You hold the gun to his neck and he urgently takes his hard cock out. You reach down for it. It’s thick and warm in your hand. “Don’t feel half as big as ya look on camera,” you tell him. “Pretty sad.” You spit in your hand and reach for his cock again. “So desperate for my attention,” you mock him. “You’ll do anything, wont ya?”

This is fine, you tell yourself, You’ll tell the cops he forced you, and then you’ll even have his DNA, and they can catch him, and this can all be over. . .after one last ride. 

You put your knees on the seat on either side of him.  You hover over his cock and use your free hand to run the head through your dripping folds, then you sink onto him and bottom out with ease. His cock twitches against your walls, and a shiver races down your spine. Your nipples harden, visible even through your pleather top.  The sheer arousal pisses you off.  He feels too good. A man like this doesn't deserve to be so good at dicking you down, without even trying. Without doing anything.  You move up and down him, and he does exactly nothing. He knows it gets you off. You hate how full he makes you feel. You resent the incomparable pleasure that will linger in your mind, in your whole body, for days. Maybe forever. 

He moans soft enough that the voice changer doesn't pick it up. You wince at the sound of his humanity. 

Something comes over you. “Shut the fuck up,” you tell him as you bring yourself down on his cock again. . “I don't wanna hear your voice." You raise yourself up. "I don’t wanna know who you are." You roll your hips into him.  "I don’t fucking care. I don’t care about you at all," you bite, fucking yourself on his cock, dripping wetter and wetter.  You keep degrading him as you fuck him.  "You’re nothing to me." In your lower belly, a climax is building.  "You’re a faceless cock. Always have been.” He sits motionless as you ride him harder. Maybe it was the weed, but you can’t get enough.

When the train reaches the next stop, you tug down your dress as much as you can and sit still on his cock. You hide the gun between your bodies.

Your watch dings with a notification–an unsaved number. 

how's the 🍆

A shadow eclipses you from behind, and you hear the snap of a picture. Your face goes ice cold. 

"Oh you're a reeeeeal bad girl, aren't ya?" The real ghostface says behind you. All the hair on your body stands up, and your heart pounds as you look at the costume in front of you. The lack of gloves, the quality of fabric, the jeans under it. The cock of a stranger twitches inside you and the gun shakes in your hand. "What the fuck," you mutter. You start to get off the man, but the real ghostface slams you back down on him. 

"Oh don't stop now, kitty. " 

He holds you down on the man's cock. "Lovin’ this Halloween special. sure he is, too. Ain't ya, buddy?" 

"What the hell’s goin' on," the man mutters in a regular voice.

You’re about to berate the man for deceiving you. "You let me,"  then you feel the heavy weight of the gun in your hand and stop short, shame rushing into every blood vessel of your body. 

"Better finish what ya started," the real Ghostface says. "A happy customer won't snitch, right brother?"

When you don't move, Ghostface says, "god damnit," then squats down and wraps his arm around you. "Do I have to do everything?" He lifts you up a little, so the man's cock almost falls out, then drops you back down. He lifts you up and down the man's hard cock, and it's horrifically erotic having Ghostface fuck you on another man's dick. The real Ghostface cock is hard against your back. 

Ghostface adjusts his grip and grabs a tit as he forces you up and down.  The man’s Stab mask tilts down, watching his cock disappear into you again and again. Your lips part, and a moan slips out. 

"Oh, you filthy, filthy girl," Ghostface chides. 

"Shut up," you snap as Ghostface sheaths the man’s cock with you again. 

"Gonna cum for him, pumpkin? Milk his cock?"  

No, God no, this random guy can't cum inside you. Your body stiffens and you shake your head no.

"Oh, c'mon, kitty." 

"No," you whimper.

Ghostface sighs in exasperation and one of his arms leaves your torso for a moment. Then he points his knife at the man you're riding. "Ten seconds." 

Ghostface holds the knife to your throat as he keeps manhandling you on the guy's cock, counting down, "ten," he lifts and lowers you, "nine," stuffing you with the man's cock, "eight,"  and he's only at "seven," when the man flattens his back and arms against the subway seats and shudders as he lifts his hips into you. Ghostface forces you down, and you cry, "no," drowned out by the man's groan as he cums.  You moan at his pulsations. It's sick, disgustingly hot, getting pumped full of this stranger's cum on a subway car with Ghostface holding a knife to your throat. Your spine arches and you begin to convulse, milking the stranger’s cock just like Ghostface told you to. 

"Hellll yeahhh." Ghostface gropes your tit. His cock twitches against your back. He addresses the stranger, "She's hot for a serial rapist, right?" as he lets your weight fully down onto the man. He lets you push yourself off the man, and ghostface holds you by your neck so you won't run.  As the man's cock flops sloppily onto his open jeans, Ghostface tells him, "now get the fuck outta here." The man in the ghostface mask is still zipping up his pants when Ghostface adds, "this one needs a real big cock." Then Ghostface asks you, "don't ya, pumpkin?" And takes the man's seat. 

The train comes to a stop and as the man scurries out of the subway car, he warns other riders not to board the car. He’s removing his mask as the train pulls away, but you don’t get to see him.  Ghostface takes the man's seat and hikes up his robe, revealing his pj pants.  He takes his cock out and manhandles you onto his lap.  You hover. You're not about to hop on his dick, but let’s face it, you’re not gonna put up a fight, either. You're tired. You're confused. You're horny as hell. There must be something in that weed. 

Out the window, everyone is staring as the train slowly pulls away. 

Ghostface hikes your dress all the way up and stares between your legs with the stranger's cum seeping out of you.  

"Look at this mess," he catches the cum with the flat of the knife, cool against your folds. He slowly drags the knife toward himself, then angles it up toward your mound. Then he takes the knife off you.  He wraps his hand around your ass and the handle of the knife rests against your skin.  “Now sit on daddy’s cock.” 

He lifts you onto his cock. He hesitates with his tip notched at your entrance, and you twitch with need. Then he pulls you down, and his thick cock stretches you – a pleasant, easy stretch – as you sink onto him. He's bigger than the cock you just had. 

"What's my favorite movie?" He asks, then begins to move you on his cock. He holds you still. You're dying for friction. "Strangers on a train," he answers for you, and you ignore him.   "Hitchcock's overrated,” Ghostface says. “Now I've got my *own*.” Great, he took a video, too.  This is bad for you, really bad, but all you can think about is the big, hard cock inside you.  He's still not moving, and neither are you.  Your clit is throbbing. You begin to rock your hips as the train slows down . 

Ghostface slaps your ass with his bare hand. "Made for the screen, baby." His hips begin to move under you, finally. You close your eyes, feeling his thick shaft pump in and out of you, sliding with ease through the other man's cum. "Sure can take a cock."  He feels so fucking good.  Why did he have to kill again? Why can't he just fuck you? God his cock feels good. "Bet ya coulda taken us both," ghostface says and his cock twitches inside you. "Ohh, fuck." The train stops. He puts down his knife and takes the gun from you. "Yeah, this hole could take two, no problem." His crude words are making you throb more. You feel people watching from the train window, and your face is hot, but you can't get enough of this cock. "Maybe that's what this filthy cunt needs. Two cocks." Your walls twitch around him. "Ooohhh, like the sound'a that, don't ya?"  You feel an orgasm building in your gut. "Hell yeah, dirty girl."  

The train leaves the station again. “Maybe next time I’ll bring a friend.” he brings the gun to your face. He prods your cheek with the muzzle. Then nudges your lips open and you groan in protest. 

"Give it a kiss, pumpkin'"  You pull your head back and turn your cheek. Your heart is beating out of your chest. Your vision is blurry. Your body is dizzy with pleasure and adrenaline. Ghostface gives up on putting the gun in your mouth. He drags the cool metal down your face, around your neck, to your back, then keeps dragging it down. Then he slouches down in the seat and adjusts your angle on top of him, pulling you tighter against his chest. 

His massive, ungloved hand lifts your ass cheeks out of the way and spreads you wide. He brings you upward, letting most of his cock out, then you feel the cool metal at your dripping entrance. He wedges the cold muzzle of the gun into your pussy right alongside his cock. "Yeah, take it, kitty." 

You groan as he pulls you down on his cock and the gun. What has he done to you? Why is this so hot? "Yeah, knew ya could take two cocks." To your horror, you find your hips rocking. "Fuck yeah," he growls. The barrel of the gun is cool against the back wall of your cunt, and your hole is squeezing his cock tighter now. He wriggles the gun around in a circular motion against his cock. "Ohh yeah."  The train speeds up. "Hold on tight," he warns. He begins to manhandle you on his cock and the gun. You're on the edge. Your asshole tightens and tension swells in your core. 

"Fuck," you whisper. 

He feels it. "Yeah, that's right." You hold your breath. "Cum for me, pumpkin, or I'll make you into pie." Your climax overtakes you and you wince as you clench around the gun and his cock. 

"Goooood giirl," he says with your body jerking around his. "There's daddy's little slut." Wave after wave hits you and your cunt squeezes him and the gun.  He holds you tighter against him and lifts you enough to slide the gun out, leaving your exhausted cunt looser around him. “Yeah, plenty’a room for two.”  You're still having aftershocks. They're not fading, like another one could build. You reach for your clit. "Needy, needy cunt." You rub yourself and he rocks you on his cock until you cum again. 

"Hell yeah," he moans when you clench around him.  Then he erupts inside you with a groan. His cock pulses against your walls as his warm spend mixes with the other man's. "Yeahhh." His cum goes on and on. "Fuck, yeahh." 

As soon as he's finished coming, he pulls you off his lap. He tucks his cock back in his PJs. The train rolls to a stop. 

He pats your lower belly.  “Won’t know who's the father," he chides, "but at least ya know who's daddy."

—

-

Next: EVERY INCH 4

May 2024 update - I have 3 more parts outlined.

-------------------

THANK YOU FOR READING. If you want more parts, reblogs and comments make all the difference.

Now that you know what happens, it's a solid re-read. Especially when reader is degrading him 😭 lmk your thoughts when you come back to reread lol.

if you liked this smut, you could check out raider Joel meanwhile.

Also BTW gasolinerainbowpuddles is responsible for giving me the kink of degradation about unknown paternity starting with the fic liquid gold which is amazing.

[2kiran]

“CAMERAS / GOOD GHOSTS INTERLUDE”

PAIRING: Ghostface x Reader Reader and Ghostface are men. KINKTOBER CW: SMUT, filming, #1 warnings: ghostface and his casual degradation, blood mention, blowjob (receiving), humiliation kink, teeth-kiss to your d., mild praise

“Look at the camera, baby. Look. At. The. Camera.”

Ghostface huffed in response, his arms obediently staying behind his back. He angles his head in a way that portrays he was staring into the lens, and you catch a glimpse of his chin just below his eternally screaming mask. With the instrument in the palm of your hand, you had evidence of his haunting arrival.

Actual blackmail against the cold-hearted, driven-by-bloodlust killer.

But you think you won’t use it any time soon. Not that it’s currently necessary.

You could barely fathom the whole ordeal, down to the tiniest detail. It was unbelievable. Ghostface was on his knees, his lips curving into a pout as his snark dies on the very tip of his petulant tongue. Additionally, his mouth was inches away from. . .your cock. Fucking hell, have you gone batshit?

Receiving a nasty, sloppy blowjob from him out of everyone you could’ve chosen past midnight wasn’t exactly ideal. Mostly due to how blood spatter clung to his wear, and who knows if it’s his or someone else’s—

The flat of his tongue drags a looong, stripe along your weeping tip. “At least pay attention to me. Is my mouth not enough for a filthy thing like you?” He’s speaking as though you’re bringing him physical harm, but you figure that’s the way he is.

Wrenching your hand into the fabric surrounding the back of his head, you yank him forward until his lips were stretched around the top of your cock. “Shut up,” you command lowly, letting out a shaky gasp as he swallows you in repeatedly in an attempt not to gag, “Look good for me. C’mon.”

That’s the resemblance of a warning you give him, not even close, before the recording begins. Ghostface swears his heart unlocks an unknown door and flees his mortal body at the familiar click, a feeling he’s unable to identify crawling up his chest and sinks into his cheeks. Almost suffocating him with the feeling and by all means, he’s so fucking turned on.

It’s embarrassing. He couldn’t be caught like this. You won’t seriously have that file uploaded. Right?

He redirects his attention towards breathing properly. Then, he runs his tongue up and down a vein, easing himself into the taste of you. The scent of you.

Shit, what is he doing? He barely knows you—a surprising first occurrence—and yet...

Ghostface squeezes his thighs shut, trying to chase after some relief. Drool piles in his mouth, acting as a lubricant for him to take in more of your pulsing dick. He groans, sending vibrations that makes you accidentally stop the recording. It had went on for two minutes—that’s something.

You click on for the flash, letting it spring upwards in place, then you take a picture. He’s startled by the light, and you suddenly feel his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh. You have half a mind to jerk, but you definitely don’t need him biting you.

Instead, you simply put on the record mode again. It certainly doesn’t take long for you to feel him slowly sucking you as an apology, his own cock throbbing in his pants when you don’t react to the pain. He probably appeared as some useless slut to you, something that he isn’t. The thought alone has a whine creep into his throat, but he’s not going to let you hear that.

You bring the camera closer to his masked face, capturing the way his saliva coats your length. “There we go,” you sigh, watching him sink more of you into his pretty little mouth, “That’s a good boy, Ghost. Mnn, hhfuck, that’s a good boy.”

The sound of your voice. . .he wonders how you’ll feel inside of h—oh, he’s hooked.

[angelbarelywrites]

♡ slashers scenarios | you’re almost a victim… (part 2)

♡ fandoms; House of Wax, Scream (kinda), Hannibal/Silence of the Lambs, Dead by Daylight, slashers (general)

♡ characters; Bo Sinclair, Danny Johnson, Hannibal Lecter

♡ reader; gender neutral

♡ cw; mentions of violence and cannibalism, kidnapping, stalking, suggestive content

♡ notes; I’m kinda surprised this prompt won out for a part 2 but very happy lol, I had some fun ideas.

the whole gang is not here, just some kinda kinky guys again- I feel like this doesn’t work super well for every single slasher? only some of them are psychopaths AND perverts

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

Bo Sinclair

> bo was having a rough day

> your friends had been putting up one hell of a fight, killing the first four was a huge pain in ass

> so by the time there’s only two of you left, he hasn’t even gotten a proper look at you

> it’s not until you come back to the gas station, wide eyed and begging for help that he finally notices you

> god you’re cute- you can be last

> he drops the nice guy act and gets you to the chair- rough as always and threatening you the whole way

> but then he notices it’s all a lot easier than usual today

> he glances up and can’t help but grin

> your cheeks are bright red and your chest heaving- you like being restrained

> “i’ll be good- promise—“ you mumble before he can be a smart ass

> he gags you anyways, but he praises you as you open your mouth for him to stuff the rag it in

> he can hear you whimper as he does and he’s just itching to leave so he can come back

> he leans over, one hand planted between your legs to steady himself

> he can hear your breathing catch as he simply kisses your forehead, snickering as he leaves

> you were really something

> a pretty, obedient little something that would last way longer than a day if you kept it up

Danny Johnson

> he’s worried you saw the flash of his camera through your window that morning

> he’s normally so careful, he can’t believe he slipped up like that- honestly he’s surprised you didn’t call the cops

> you must have been too groggy, or maybe it wasn’t as dark as he thought it was at the time. maybe you noticed but didn’t put two and two together

> he needs to kill you soon anyways. he’s been watching for a while, and he’s wasting time

> he settles back into his usual spot where he can see perfectly into your bedroom

> he sees you frown just a tad as you pick up the phone call from an “unknown number” - but you still pick up

> “Hi there, doll .”

> he’s called you more than once, this “ghost voice” that’s been terrorizing you- and god is it a nice voice

> a nice voice that says vile things. some of them just violent, some…well some things you like too much

> you can see you make an expression he doesn’t expect. you bite your lip, cheeks pink

> he’s seen that look before…not for Ghostface, of course, but for Danny

> you were easy enough to befriend, and it just gave him more opportunities to keep tabs on you

> like most people he charms, you clearly have a crush on him, and that little lip bite is about the same face you make when he flirts

> maybe he’s just seeing things

> you couldn’t be that perfect.if you were he would have to keep you around

> he continues on and on, observing you carefully

> and you just keep getting more and more flustered, even when he’s threatening to choke you stupid

> “you know you’re so cute when you blush like that,”

> what you say next comes just about as close to scaring him as you can get

> “Thank you, Danny.”

Hannibal Lecter

> you weren’t quite as close to victimhood as one might assume

> but he was a fast killer once he had a mark set- you had to impress him more than a bit to be considered and then ruled out

> you start as his patient

> you’re a meek thing, easy to read and fragile

> you’re practically asking to become an entree

> if you taste as good as you look, you’d be his best dish yet

> it’s not hard to get you alone outside of an appointment

> you’re delighted when he invites you to a dinner party- you’ve heard great things about his little get togethers

> and he even lets you help him get ready, setting the tables

> the conversation become macabre as you discuss some recent murders that police suspected were committed by a cannibal

> that he committed for the sake of the dinner party, naturally

> he corners you before you can realize it - he likes playing cat and mouse

> you giggle nervously and look up at him

> he’s got a hand on the wall above you, and he notices your eyes linger on his toned forearms

> many patients and victims have crushes on him, it’s not surprising or a deterrent

> though it surprised him the gristly conversation wasn’t bothering you

> “yknow, it must be nice to know you’re safe from that serial killer in the neighborhood. If he is a cannibal, he’s most likely to chose someone more sedentary.”

> you leave him there, as if you hadn’t said something so delightfully offputting to find a vase for the table

> maybe he could do some further studying….