#ghostface steve rogers

[ladylaviniya]

This was SO DANG HOT AND CRAZY and I'm sobbing because fuck the last few paragraphs have me so badly on the edge of my seat. I cant find part 2 and this fic was written in 2022 🥺 😭 FUCK I NEED THAT HATE GANGBANG IN THE PUMPKIN PATCH MAZE. I think I'm gonna need to reread this fic because every bit is so damn good!

The spice was so hot and tangy, I need some milk to calm me down. It's so heart palpitating.

³¹.⍭ 𝐊𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐚 (𝟏/𝟐)

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 | Major Crossover—ghostface!boyfriends!: Ari Levinson, Steve Rogers, Curtis Everett, Ransom Drysdale x cheater!reader

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | SOFT DARK themes and elements, cheating, revenge, obsessive/possessive behaviour, jealousy, competition, size difference: all 6’7-6’9, manhandling, manipulation, coercion. SMUT - minors DNI, NON-CON/DUB-CON: they’re all wearing the same mask & reader doesn’t know who it is, oral (m & f), balls sucking, fingering (f), dirty talk, chase kink, daddy kink, p*ssyjob, size kink, spit kink, choking, p*ssy spanking, exhibitionism (public sex), degradation, dumbification, ruined kink, overstimulation, squirting, creampie.

𝗪/𝗖 | 8.23K

𝗔/𝗡 | happy Halloween !! hope you all had a spooky day, here is my last fic for spicy October, a finale with all our fave daddies. enjoy !! all mistakes are my own.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 & 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲: @𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

𝐊𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐚 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | ˗ˏˋ𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟐 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭ˎˊ˗ ⋰˚ 𝐂.𝐄. & 𝐂𝐨. 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

“That was the money from my grandfather's will.” 

Curtis snorts, “as if you don’t have the cash to spare.” 

Ransom’s glare hardens, “It’s from my dead grandfather—I mean, my murdered grandfather. Am I not allowed to be upset that she stole money from my grandfather who was murdered in cold blood?”

“It isn’t stealing if you voluntarily spent it on her.” The other burnet countered, “I assume money is the only way you know how to show affection. Mommy and daddy didn’t know how to deal with you so they filled that emotional void with money, and you continue it in all your relationships. It’s a never-ending cycle.”

“At least I know my parents, orphan.”

Ari tunes them out, staring out the wide window into the night. The howling winds sway the forest surrounding the Thrombey mansion and the shadows bleed through the glass, covering him from head to toe in the same shade as his profound emptiness.

Three years. Three fucking years of his life gone to waste. 

Every time he blinks, he sees you from senior year. The beautiful, popular, high-achieving student who never looked his way, although he tried hundreds of times to get your attention. From playing his heart out on the football field when you were in the crowd, attempting—and failing—to be your partner for projects in classes you shared, and volunteering to help for events that you were organizing, one of those being your senior prom. The theme was an extravagant masquerade ball, strange for a year of rambunctious teenagers, but perfect for the elite private school. 

The venue was decorated in hues of vermillion, gold and grey, with speckles of white from the feathers and clear-beaded arrangements in the middle of each table. Sheer fabric and ribbon hung from the ceiling, draped low to mimic the magical atmosphere. Fairy lights glimmered alongside sparkling chandeliers, illuminating the ballroom in a warm yellow glow. Red roses, gold plates and vintage-styled candelabras sat atop black tablecloths and complemented the metallic chairs. 

During the few weeks of setting up the venue, his friends consistently poked fun because he was whipped for a girl he’s never spoken to. 

He broke that shameful streak the day before prom, and until today, that was the stupidest he’s ever felt. 

“Oh, I don’t have a date.” You answered after he asked what colours you and your date were going to wear. 

Ari’s face twisted in disbelief and utter confusion. The revelation scattered every organized thought, making him a total fool. “Why the fuck not?”

He’ll never forget the stunned expression on your face. 

“I mean—you’re really fucking pretty.” The words flew out like a swarm of wild bees, dancing in front of his horrified eyes, taunting him. 

You burst out laughing, throwing your head back and nearly toppling over one of the tables. “Well thanks, I’ve been asked a couple of times but none of them are my type. They’re all meatheads.” You finally caught your breath, soft giggles tumbling from your glossed lips. “Like the football team, ugh, just a bunch below-average, tit-brained idiots.”

Ari frowned deeply, “I’m on the football team.” He was positive you knew that, hell, you’ve organized fundraisers for the sports department. 

You grinned, “I know. But you’re actually cute when you’re dumb, way above average.” You patted his broad shoulder and walked away, the short uniform skirt swaying with each step. 

Ari remembers standing there like a moron before finally bolting after you. He caught up to you in the parking lot and asked you right then and there, almost dropping to his knees to beg when you took a second too long to answer. But you said yes, smiling so sweetly he could’ve died. 

“—the same day. The same fucking day! That has to be a record!” Curtis snarls, pointing a finger at Ransom, “and you were on a date too, so you can’t say shit about cheating, jackass.”

The playboy moves his hand with two fingers, nonchalantly shrugging. “I found someone I wanted to spend the night with, is that a crime?”

Curtis gritted his teeth, his shoulders rigid under his leather jacket, “I won her a ginormous bear and fingered her in the photo booth, and she was already fucking two other guys!”

“Dating. She was dating two other guys.” 

“Same shit!”

All this time, the second boyfriend has remained silent. Steve stares at his lock screen, a blurry photograph of the two of you the morning after a date at the pier. You’re half asleep but he wanted to commemorate the most perfect night of his life. 

He was convinced that he was the lead in a romantic film, and it all bloomed from his awful first impression. 

“Will you ever actually talk to me? Or will you just continue to stare at me from across the shop?” You smiled down at him, your skin glowing in the morning sun. “Here, you look like a cupcake kind of guy.”

A red velvet cupcake is placed in front of him, right next to his hand which had his pencil in a death grip. He quickly releases his hold and stares blankly at you, stunned and bewitched because he’s never seen you this close. Heavenly is the way he’d describe your features, each curve and dip of your face is burned into his brain from his endless sketches but at this moment, it feels like he’s seeing you for the first time. 

Since that day, he believed in love at first sight. Now? It’s up for debate. 

“Sit. I mean, please sit. Only if you want obviously.” He covers his red cheeks, not even bothering to shut his sketchbook. You already saw the dozens of drawings of you from various angles, all sprawled across the pages like they belonged there. “You know what? Never mind, I’ll go. I’m  sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable.” 

He was going to leave, pack up his things haphazardly and dash out of the coffee shop before embarrassment ate him alive, but you called him back. 

“I’ll stay, but only if you show me what else is in there.”

And he did, shyly at first but as the minutes dragged into hours, he got more confident and gave you detailed explanations of each piece. He rambled on and on about a sketch that took up two pages, it was an elderly couple watching the sunset on the beach, the waves crashing in the background as their heavily detailed silhouettes were in the foreground. He spoke as if he knew them when he was only a mere bystander to their love story. 

“I saw them almost every day that summer. On that same bench and holding hands.” He sipped his cold coffee, never breaking eye contact with you, “They’ve probably watched tons of sunsets in their lifetime, but it’s cute, y’know? That they still do… soft things like that.”

Steve was a nice guy. He was recklessly kind, tutored people in his class, and always helped his coach with pregame preparations. He donates all his old clothes and always asks owners before petting their dogs. 

If he was so good, why did bad things happen to him? Was it his fault? 

He kept pushing you to meet his family. In his defence, you’ve been dating for two years and he talks about you nonstop, his parents have been begging to meet the girl who has their son’s heart, and praised him for finding the one so early on. 

It’s a shame that the one was never his to begin with. 

The worst part of all of this wasn’t the cheating—well, it was, but the other worse part was your blatant dismissal for taking the next step in your relationship. You’ve met their families, you were very close with Ari’s and met Curtis’ and Ransom’s who you’ve only been dating for less than a year. 

What was so different about his? 

“Cheap fucking slut.” Ransom mutters. “She’s so greedy that she needs four cocks.” 

“Hey, watch your mouth.” Steve frowns, “She’s still my girlfriend.” 

Curtis bites his tongue and swallows whatever snide remark was on the verge of spilling out. As much as it hurt, he knew where they were both coming from. He hated your guts, yet the masochist part of himself admired your bulletproof nerve and capability, and the other much softer part was still madly in love with you. 

He prided himself in being observant, reading people like open books and anticipating their words and actions so that he was always prepared—that’s why he knows how to push Ransom’s buttons. It didn’t take a genius to notice how stuck up and spoiled the brat was. He couldn’t believe how you put up with him. 

How you got away with this for so long was a wonder. Whether it was by sheer luck or cautious scheming, you played them all like puppets, pulling their strings however you pleased for the grand production. The success came with applause and satisfaction, it boosted your ego and made them into fools. 

Don’t even get him started on your fucking friends who probably worshipped you for your stellar performance, praising you for dancing on their hearts with false innocence. Curtis has met them and only now he can recall the mischievous twinkle in their eyes, he would bet that they downgraded him to a pathetic nickname like boyfriend number three. 

He would’ve noticed something sooner if you didn’t have him pussy drunk every time he saw you. He’ll admit it—he’s whipped. 

You may be a good-for-nothing cheater, but you were his fucking pornstar. 

He supposes that’s the thing about pornstars, they surely got around. 

Curtis wouldn’t openly admit it to the rest of the guys—his girlfriend’s other boyfriends—but if you called him right now and asked him to come over, he’d be on his motorcycle in the blink of an eye. You were a twisted, disgustingly hot mastermind who could spit in his face and choke him, and yet, he’d still dick you down. He was into that freaky shit anyway. 

Of course, as much as he pretended, he wasn’t all tough. Under that steel demeanour, he’s aching, battered with betrayal and fears of inadequacy. 

Grey clouds loomed over that island of self-doubt, a place all four of them have since sailed to and made home, sharing their confusion, anger and grief. 

All of this mess started from simple curiosity. Ari recognized a little lacy thing in one of his fraternity brothers’ rooms, and lo and behold, it was your panties, the same ones he bought you a few months prior. 

“Oh, oops. My girl left those in my pocket.” Curtis chuckles and waltzes in, dropping his skateboard by the closet. He’s wearing that signature black beanie and carrying that smell of cigarettes and mint gum. “She’s so cheeky, huh?”

Ari doesn’t acknowledge him at first. His fingers feel around the fabric before hooking in a hole by the band, and then his heart stops. 

The other brunet watches strangely, “Uh, can I have those back?”

Perhaps any other person in a fit of confused rage would’ve wrapped their hands around Curtis’ throat, but Ari didn’t. He’s caught off guard when Ransom walks by and pops his head in, his blue eyes locking on the purple lace with blue bows. 

“Where did you get those?”

Those five words erupted an argument that shook the walls. Curses were spat and accusations were pointed every which way until the world decided that three out of four wasn’t enough.  

Steve was on his way home when he heard the shouts from a few houses down. 

He burst into the bedroom with wide eyes and was welcomed by his friends arguing and tearing crumbled lace from each other’s hands. Then, the universe works its magic again and the sheer fabric lands on the floor a few feet away from him. 

His gaze drops and he cocks his head to the side, but that puzzlement swiftly fuses into disbelief that shakes him to the core. The air falls to an ear-splitting silence as realization dawns, freezing them all where they stand. 

The first to speak is Ransom, he lets out a boisterous laugh. “What a little cock hungry bitch. Well played, I’ll say, well played.” 

After everyone calmed down and Steve stopped crying and dry heaving, they made the journey to Ransom’s mansion for the sake of privacy, who knows what their other fraternity brothers would think? They’d pity them, but no one would understand their circumstances. No, that gracious gift was split between the four of them. 

“So, who gets to have her?” All eyes fall on Steve, the 6’8 figure hunched in a small chair and clutching a pillow to his chest. 

Me—is spoken in all their heads. Fury, greed and vengeance don’t mix well with love. 

“I had her before you.” Curtis says to Ransom and reclines on the leather couch, stretching lazily, “Did I forget to mention she sucked my dick that night? Oh… and you kissed her too, huh?” He smirks, “I don’t know about you but I’d rather not know my parents than know what a stranger’s dick tastes like.”

Ransom clenches his jaw, “You poor cunt—”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure the girl you ditched that day is still into you. Call her up and see how that goes, trust fund baby.” 

“If we’re going with whoever had her first…” Steve trails off, swallowing the lump in his throat. He cried when he found out about your unfaithfulness, and he cried on the way to the mansion and already excused himself a few times to cry in the bathroom, yet he was seconds away from crying again. “Then i-it’s you.” 

Six blue eyes pool with hesitance, then tentatively land on the tallest frat boy. 

Ari’s wounds run the deepest, piercing through his skin that you’ve marked with your lips and hands. You’ve branded him, traced your name on his chest as you two talked mindlessly about the future, where you see yourself after graduating from that pretentious university halfway across the world. 

It wasn’t the distance. If it was, why did you date three other guys from the same city as him?

“Has she contacted any of you? While you two were arguing, she tried calling me.” He stares down at the missed call. The candid contact photo glares back, it was from your last birthday just before you blew out your candles. A surprise party he planned for you. 

Everyone checks their phones. 

“She just cancelled our date.” Ransom grits his teeth, glaring at the screen with your adorable yet revolting apology. 

I promise I’ll make it up to you, daddy! I have a huge project coming up but I’ll miss you! Please don’t forget about me :(

“Ours too. Apparently, she has a project.” Curtis itches to call you right now and give you a piece of his mind but he’d rather see your face when your castle of lies crumbles to the ground. 

You were always so pretty when you were helpless and ruined. 

Steve’s phone is the last to chime. He gulps nervously and flips it over with a furrow between his brows. “She wants me to visit her next week.” 

“Fucking bitch.” Ransom growls, throwing his phone across the room, it dents the wall with a loud thump. Everyone would be taken aback if he hadn’t broken four glasses already. 

“I—uh, what do I say? Do I make up an excuse that I can’t go?”

Ari uncrosses his arms, blinking slowly. He was calm and it was terrifying considering how furious he should be. He knew you first, he fell for you first, he had you first, yet he was as peaceful as a boat on a gentle stream. “You don’t want to see her?”

Steve slumps over in a big hunk of muscle trapped in a too-small t-shirt. For someone usually happy and energetic, it was comical to see the new star player of the football team so defeated. Millions of bodychecks and tackles couldn’t amount to the gut-wrenching aches and emptiness, and Ari was the only one who understood that too. 

He still wasn’t over the fact that he’s been playing on the same team as the guy who was fucking his girlfriend—their girlfriend?

“Of course I do. I love her.” 

Steve was soft, to say the least, everyone knew that when they saw him walk into the fraternity house with a wide smile and a tray of freshly baked cookies, “I wanted to make a good impression and my ma says food is the best way to do it,” he said in a Brooklyn accent, “can’t have my frat brothers hating me, that’d be a shitshow.” 

Hate wouldn’t be the word they’d use, but they weren’t completely comfortable with each other like before. 

What are the chances that all your boyfriends enroll in the same college and join the same fraternity at the same time, even when all of them were attending different schools the previous year?

Fate was probably fed up with your deceitfulness. 

“You’ll invite her here and we’ll all have her.” Ari decides, his dark eyebrows knitted tightly, “we’ll share. That means, the two of you get along or get out—”

“—this is my house.”

“I didn’t fucking ask.” He snaps, “If this is going to work, we’ll have to get along, or at least pretend to. And at the end of the night, no one loses, no one wins, but she gets what she deserves.” 

For the hundredth time, Steve looks down at your hand in his. Your freshly manicured hand contrasts with his black gloves, and the glitter nail polish matches the dainty diamond on your ring finger, the one he bought you for your one year anniversary. You got him a chain necklace that he’s never taken off and with his bubbling nerves, it feels like the silver is burning through his skin.

“You okay, baby?”

As always and regardless of the conditions, he swoons at your lovely voice. Oh, he was neck-deep in his desire, trapped and made into a damn clown, yet his heart still sang for you. 

“Yeah, doll. Are you?”

You grin and kiss his cheek with your glossed lips. “I’m perfect, daddy.” You’re happy that Steve begged you to come home instead of flying him to you. 

This was your first time visiting his new college and elite university parties were nothing like the ones in the city. They lacked closeness and freedom since everyone was concerned about wrong angles or nasty rumours. Here, people just wanted to dress up, have fun, and celebrate Halloween on rented-out property in an old farmhouse. 

“I’ll get you another drink.” Steve pats your hip and you scoot off his lap, occupying the free spot on the couch. He asks around for other refills and turns to you, tilting your chin up with his finger, “You want something to eat too?”

“No thanks, do you want me to come?”

Steve snorts, brushing you off with a claim of chivalry. You watch him walk away and ignore that little voice of guilt, the hushed dejected calls of three other names. They didn’t matter right now, you were with Steve and thinking about them any longer put all of your relationships at risk. 

You love them all, but in different ways. There were different things to love about each of them, distinct qualities to admire, and little habits to remember. You were diligent with everything, that’s why you’ve gotten away with it for so long. 

You grew up quite spoiled, always getting whatever you want from your parents who never used the word no. It was all on a shiny silver platter, from prized jewelry to new wardrobes, fancy cars and luxurious vacations. That part of you never grew up, you still wanted it all and got it—just like how you wanted four men and got them. They weren’t disposable to you, no, they were the loves of your life. You valued them, but obviously not enough to respect their trust and the sanctity of your relationship. 

When Steve returns, you don’t waste any time. Your body presses against his and your lips trail down his neck, gently pushing the hood off his blond head, “I’ve missed you, daddy. Haven’t you missed me too?”

Steve has since gotten over his heartbreak and nerves. It took a bit of liquid courage and some direction from Ari, but he was ready. No longer a sad, pouting puppy but a vengeful beast, smelling out your lies like a fresh kill. It’s that deep-seated hunger which spurs him on, prompting him to pull you to the dance floor for a few songs. He yearns to feel your body against his, your irresistible warmth, and that magnetic force that pulled him to you two years ago. 

You turn around in his hold, slowly grinding against his thigh. “I did what you asked…” You trail off, bringing his hand under your tutu. It isn’t out of character for you to be so forward, but it catches you off guard when he gropes your flesh. His fingers trace over the plug through your nylon tights and lace leotard. “Did I do good, daddy?”

“So good, baby.” His voice drops low, rumbling in his chest, his hard bulge rubs against your hip. “You always do so good for me.” 

You were his best girl, his pretty doll who couldn’t do any wrong. He’d do anything you asked, bend over backwards to fulfill your any wish but that would change tonight. It was time for you to be stretched thin for his demands and satisfy his needs. 

“I want to feel your mouth on me.” 

Under any other circumstances, Steve would have felt embarrassed for saying that aloud, but all those worries fly out the window when your eyes twinkle and you nod obediently, truly the whore that Curtis said you were—well, he actually called you a fuckhole.

Steve wrongfully thought your body was his for the past two years, but at this moment, he chose to believe you were wholly his. 

“You okay, sweet girl?”

You nod eagerly with your mouth locked around one of his balls, your tongue traces the seam before suckling. You’re so messy and struggle to take his full sack, slobbering filthily as saliva dribbles onto your pristine costume. 

His gaze locks on your face, your cheeks are wet and hot with tears, and his spit hangs out the corner of your swollen lips. Your tongue swipes out for it before licking up his leaky cock, following the protruding veins to the fat tip. 

“You like when I stroke your cock, daddy?” 

“Yeah, baby. Go deeper, you’ve done it before.” His neck tenses when you gag on his cock, fisting what couldn’t fit in your mouth. “Fuck, that’s it.” 

The music vibrates throughout the house, the loud conversations flowing in from under the bathroom door, but you didn’t care, not even with your sore knees pressing into the cold tiles, or your feather headpiece jostling with every bob. 

His heavy weight on your tongue and his taste filling your mouth sends tingles through your body, but you force your hand away from your throbbing cunt. This was for Steve, your sweet, loving and fucking hot boyfriend Steve.  

“So pretty down there, doing so good for me.” Steve pants heavily, guiding you to kiss up and down his pulsating length. The mushroom head is enveloped between your lips and you lick his slit. You’re usually a tease, but Steve has different things in mind. 

He secures a hand behind your head and pushes down until his tip hits the back of your throat. You try to control your breathing, but it’s futile with his massive length violating your airways, hammering deep and rough. You choke around his girth, saliva spills down your chin, and tears pool in your eyes but you’re determined to bring him to that precipice. You take whatever he gives—from more spit on your face to brutal thrusts. 

He forces you down further and rocks his hips, fucking your mouth like he hated you. “Look up at me, wanna see my pretty girl sucking my cock.” 

You preen under his words, blinking up at him as tears stream down your face. Wet, garbled noises fill the small bathroom as you cling to his hips over his tattered robe, piercing the thin fabric with your nails. 

“That’s it, good fuckin’ girl. Take daddy’s cock,” like the dumb whore you are. A stupid slut who isn’t content with only one man but needs several to suck dry—you’ve stolen it all, their time, money, and love. You didn’t deserve his cum right now, but Steve was too fucking soft. 

He growls your name, pumping your mouth full of his hot seed. There’s so much that some seeps through the corners of your lips, following in the lines of your spit and tears, deliciously ruining your makeup. He forces you to stay there, filled to the brim and choking on his cum. After what felt like hours, he lets you pull off. You immediately swallow his seed and lick the sensitive tip for any rogue droplets, peppering messy kisses up the flushed flesh. 

He helps you stand and rubs your cheek, smearing the spit, cum and tears into your skin. You moan and dip down, suckling his fingers and slowly lifting your dress. In the mirror, he sees your ass through the paper-thin nylon and sheer white leotard, and that plug snugly in your puckered hole. 

The reflection only emphasizes the differences, you clad in a blinding, pure white against his black robe, glittering and feathery while he was dark and looming. The similarities are only visible to him, two people playing pretend. He thinks you should win an award for your performance. 

You’re smaller than him, and so much weaker. He could pick you up and fuck you senseless against the wall, make your whines pour out for everyone to hear. 

“Wanna see it, daddy? I did it for you.”

He does, but his phone vibrates on the counter. 

Ransom: Time’s up. We don’t have all night.

It physically hurts to push you away. “In a bit, sweet girl. Let’s go enjoy the party, okay?”

The night goes on, party songs blare through the old farmhouse, rattling the old walls and windows. It’s safe to say you were momentarily satisfied after blowing Steve, the night was still young and you had all weekend to jump his bones before you left the city. 

You found a group of people to chat with, easily joining their conversations. They were interested in your private school life, so you entertained them with stories of your strict years in ironed uniforms from your early childhood to university career but unlike them, you had zero knowledge about Greek life. 

Apparently, there were a few fraternities on campus, “your boyfriend is in one, didn’t he tell you?”

“Uh, no. He didn’t.” 

You almost forgot which boyfriend you were here with until one of them asked where Steve went, and Halloween night must bring magic because just as they asked, your date popped up from the backdoor. He headed straight for you and tugged you away by your arm, not bothering to greet your new friends. 

You giggle, already tipsy from your first few drinks. “Where’d you run off to?”

He doesn’t respond and drags you outside, weaving through the bodies crowding the back porch illuminated by fairy lights. The crisp air fills your lungs, tainted with smoke, but it’s refreshing after being in a stuffy house all night. 

You apologize to the few people you bump into, blindly stumbling after your boyfriend. He’s practically body-checking people out of the way and hauling you like dead weight. He’s so rough that your bag slips from your wrist. “Steve, my purse!” 

Ransom huffs and spins around to grab your bag before continuing his trek to the woods, slowing down for your sake. This time, you follow easily, slightly inebriated and giddy, not questioning a thing—even though Steve was acting very different tonight, you were excited about anything else he had in store. 

The darkness grows the deeper you walk, the light from the farmland property swallowed by the vast abyss. You make out the shapes of the trees and your boyfriend in the muted moonlight, although your dress is still bright, especially the rhinestones glimmering across your body. 

“I wish we matched costumes… I need my prince.” You flirt, “I am a princess after all.” 

The irony almost makes him laugh. You dressed as an untouched white swan, a cursed princess. There was no purity within you, the bleached tulle and feathers on your body were nothing but a mockery for delicacy and heartache. 

“We could’ve been the cutest couple here! But you just wanted to hide under that robe. Are you scared I’m gonna find some marks that aren’t from me?”

Your teasing is cut short when he pins you against a thick tree, your back slams into the jagged bark and the back of your head throbs dully. Stars cloud your vision and you almost don’t notice when he drops to his knees between your legs. “What the hell—Steve!” With his head under your tutu, he makes quick work of tearing off his mask. The ghostly disguise falls to the forest floor face up, the horrid expression glaring at you. 

You try to pull up your dress but he bats your hands away, quickly distracting you with a flat tongue up your clothed cunt. You gasp and your thighs tremble when his wet muscle flicks against your clit, his saliva and your slick soaking through the white lace. 

“W-Wait, right now? I, fuck.” Your back arches when he bites your thigh. 

The silent night is interrupted by an awful tear. Your nylon tights meet the same fate as your lace leotard, torn to bits by his wild hands. 

“Daddy, uhm, I don’t—” Your voice breaks into a moan when his thick fingers slide to the hilt and he harshly sucks your clit. He doesn’t work you up to it, no, he starts like a starved man. He fucks you with two fingers, nudging the plug with his other hand while dining on your button. He latches onto the nub, massaging the nerves with his tongue as your pussy clenches around his digits, sucking him in. 

He’s so rough and sloppy, making out with your cunt and hungrily slurping up your juices, disgracing the surrounding nature with the lewd noises and his guttural groans. Acting as if he hasn’t touched you in a lifetime.  

Ransom briefly considers fucking up the whole plan just to see you properly. He misses your pretty face, your messy cunt and weepy hole, he feels you dripping but he would do anything to see your creaminess coating his fingers, just like his pinky ring. 

The tree bark digs into your back as he hoists you higher. His spit splatters against you before his teeth drag along your clit and he nibbles mockingly. He soothes any aches with his tongue, trailing down your slit to lick into your hole. You whimper when hard slaps land on your nub, and he isn’t as kind this time around and rubs it roughly, bullying your sensitive button with his skilled fingers. 

“Uh! D-Don’t stop, daddy. Please don’t stop.” You pant, already on edge from your previous escapade in the bathroom. You wondered why he didn’t touch you then, and now you’re thankful you waited. Your body has a mind of its own and rocks against his clean-shaven face, fucking yourself on his tongue. He hums against you, either with some degrading comment or praise, you didn’t care. 

You fist his hair under your tutu, legs quivering as he replaces his wet muscle with his digits, pumping knuckle deep. His fingers hit that rough patch with every thrust, forcing your juices out and into his awaiting mouth, racing you toward that edge of euphoria. 

His faint curses go muffled as you convulse, your thighs lock around his head, trapping him against your pussy. You cry out his name, so close to your high that you can taste it—sweet, addictive and full of relief, but you’re yanked from that delight when he pulls back. 

The cold rushes against your wet folds, making you whine from the abrupt loss of his wet warmth. Your concerns die in your throat when he puts on his mask, wiping his fingers on his robe. Your weak legs drop to the ground as he leans back and tilts his head, studying you behind the plastic face. 

Your heart pounds in your chest, the tightness unravelling within your stomach. “Why—Why’d you stop?”

All he does is laugh and stand up, dusting off his knees casually. You call out his name and in confusion, watch him turn around and walk back to the house, leaving you in the forest alone, soaked, and fucking high and dry. 

At the sight of that familiar mask, you duck and turn the other way. Your drink is almost done so you toss it in the trash and sway through bumping bodies, ignoring the heavy footsteps that are somehow louder than the bass. 

Were you avoiding him? Yes, but with his tall stature, he could easily spot you above the crowd and that limited your hiding spots. 

He deserved it for leaving you out there like a sacrificial lamb. What would’ve happened if you had been shitfaced drunk? You’d probably pass out on the ground and freeze to death, and he’d be responsible for it, the dumb fucking jerk! If he abandoned you out there now, there was no telling if you’d find your way back to the house because tonight, you found out that more drinks go well with holding grudges. 

You scream when your whole world is flipped upside down, and instantly recognize that stupid tattered robe, “Everyone can see my ass, jerk!”

Curtis snorts, you’ve probably fucked everyone in this room already and showing them your ass should be the least of your worries. 

You’re set on your feet in a dark corner of the packed living room, the strobe lights flash across the heads of partygoers, and the music booms loudly, drilling some pop song into your head. He pulls you flush against his chest, crushing your tutu between your bodies.  

“Get off me, asshole.” You try to wiggle free, but he’s too strong and big, he doesn’t even flinch when you stomp on his foot. “Ugh, I said get off!” You squirm when his hand slips between your thighs, meeting your bare cunt. “Steve!”

A sharp spank lands on your pussy, making your legs go numb but he holds you up with one arm, rubbing torturously slow circles on your swollen nub. With the booming music and the alcohol flowing through your system, you don’t register the different voice in your ear. 

“That isn’t what you call me.” 

You shiver, the warmth radiates off his body, luring you with his presence. You’re still wet and so sticky that your slick has smeared to your inner thighs, right where his fingers are tracing now. His touch ignites that fire again, all too effortlessly making you into a needy mess. 

In the flickers of red, he can see every thought leave your head. Dumb little girl. You thought you could hide from him? 

Curtis’ reaches in the slit of his robe to unbuckle his belt, and you’re too preoccupied with riding his fingers. His cock slides between your soaked, ruined folds, replacing his hand as he prods at your soppy hole. You go slack as he rocks slowly but never strays too far, letting you feel every inch.

“D-Daddy, oh!” You snap your jaw shut, “what are you—”

“Hush, you don’t want people to catch us, right?” He asks, thrusting forward until he nudges your puffy button, rubbing the sensitive nerves with the tip. He groans lowly, Ransom really bullied you down there.

Your eyes squeeze shut, your thoughts jumbling together from the overstimulation. “We—We shouldn’t, daddy…” Your voice fades when his hand wraps around your throat, his rough fingers digging into your skin and he forces you to face the crowd.

“None of them know who you really are, huh? What you really are?”

If anyone looked over, they’d instantly know what was going on. It was obvious from your blissed-out expression and his rocking hips, your weak hands grasping at his forearm as he squeezed harder. 

The oxygen goes thin as your eyes roll back, your bones turn to jelly and soon he’s your only support. His beefy arm pins you to his chest, keeping you from falling over as he thrusts into your weepy folds, the bulbous tip catching on your hole but never penetrating. 

If he could, he’d spit in your mouth, make you gag on his saliva until it dribbled down your chin. He wants the whole world to know what a slut you are, and how needy you get for cock that you’ll let him use you just feet away from other people. 

Curtis knows you love the risk. He knew that the moment he met you—because you kissed him in the photo booth and slipped his hand up your skirt, begging in your soft voice for him to touch you. 

Your lips part with a silent moan. He can’t resist slipping two fingers into your mouth, reminiscing when you sucked his dick that very same day and swallowed everything he gave you. Fucking cockslut. There were times when you dropped to your knees under his desk and rubbed over his clothed cock until he let you suck him off. You loved when he used you and when he was mean, acting like a damn bully instead of your loving boyfriend. You wanted to be degraded, ruined and downgraded to a cocksleeve, and that’s why you were his fucking pornstar. 

He still has that photo strip of you smiling, all fucked out and dumb with spit, tears and cum on your face. Your very first picture together and you didn’t even know his last name at the time. 

“Pl-Please let me come this time, daddy.” You plead, weakly meeting his thrusts. 

This time?

Curtis holds back a huff, of course, Ransom would tease the hell out of you. No wonder you’re so pathetic right now, not even thinking straight as he takes you apart on his girth. The partygoers couldn’t see his face, but they could see yours, and how stupid you looked getting fucked in the corner of the room. 

“You gonna come for me and cover daddy’s cock in your cream?” He asks, “Come in front of all these people, show ‘em what a fucking whore you are.”

If you weren’t so dazed, you would’ve realized that Steve has never called you a whore, he barely used slut either. Preferring to call you his sweet baby, his pretty doll, his girl, as he took you apart with suffocating love, those long fingers and his monstrous cock. 

Your high topples over and you cling to his arm, victim to the wave of bittersweet relief. Your orgasm coats his length, claiming him as it streams down your legs, seeping into your tights. You’re so lost in the pleasure and unable to contain your loud pitiful mewl, drawing a few drunken gazes. 

Curtis crowds you, blocking their eyes and presses you into the wall. He grips his cock, slapping the head against your pulsating clit before drawing back, the tip barely pops in before his seed spurts out, filling you up. Some escapes and the thick white cum follows in the trails of your squirt, and the feeling of being owned almost gets you worked up again. 

You can’t hear much with the blood rushing through your head, but you make out a few words: “bathroom” and “clean yourself up.” 

“W-Wait, we’re goin’ too far…” You slur, clutching the fresh seventh or eighth drink that your boyfriend shoved into your hand. Your previous one spilt all over the floor when he hauled you out of the bathroom. You barely finished cleaning yourself up before he barged in. “It’s your fault I was a mess, daddy… You can’t be mad at me.” 

He doesn’t speak or falter, his purposeful strides so long that you flounder after him. 

“Where are we,” you hiccup, “going?” When faced with no response, you dig your feet into the ground, but your ballet flats are useless in the dry, crumbling dirt. “Hey! I’m talkin’ to you!” 

He stops suddenly and you squeak, bumping into his broad back. Punch—or whatever it was—spills out of the cup splashing onto your white dress, staining the tulle and feathers a bright scarlet. 

“Ugh, Steve! Look what you did!”

He turns around, cocking his head like you were a child throwing a tantrum. 

Your feeble attempts at cleaning the mess only make it worse and spread the vibrant red. “I really liked this costume, and now look… It’s like I was stabbed.” You pout, the alcohol making you a little emotional. “Y-You ruined it! And I-I felt so pretty today—” 

He wraps you in his arms, cooing softly while rubbing your back. You drunkenly cling to his warm body, feeling his muscles under the hooded robe. 

“Let’s stand here for a bit… you gave me a lot of drinks.” You nuzzle into his chest, brushing off the difference of his cologne. Cold night air brushes along your nylon-clad legs, fluttering the delicate mesh of the tutu. You’ve lost some rhinestones as the night went on, but nothing a little hot glue couldn’t fix. “You’ve never done public stuff like that, Stevie. You’re usually so private about us.” 

He shrugs, the booming music is distant but the heavy bass still pounds in your ears. 

“You don’t wanna admit it? C’mon, I won’t tell.” You flutter your lashes, a trick that always works. “I’m into it too, and how you caught me off guard only makes it better.” 

Through blurry vision, you spot a guest house a few ways away. The lights are off, the driveway is empty, and an idea pops into your head. “We could have some real fun, daddy. Don’t you wanna have fun with me?”

This time he hums and drags his hands down your back, gripping your waist. He yanks you close, pushing an oof from your throat. 

“You’re never so rough either.” His bulge presses against your front and you nearly drop to your knees right then and there. “Do you wanna keep the mask on?”

He nods, the lifeless black eyes and dramatically opened mouth absorbing any light, contrasting with the ghostly white face. He’s looming like a shadow the size of a mountain, intimidating you by merely looking at you with a dead gaze as daunting as the creepy fictional character. 

You thought Steve didn’t like horror movies. 

You lean up to kiss him, but he spins you around so quickly that you almost fall over. Tall corn stalks and various pumpkins sit on hay bales under an archway forebodingly lit by lanterns. 

You giggle, “Ooh! You wanna race to see who finds the exit first? I’ll have you know, I’m quite the pro. I go whenever they have one at the pumpkin patch!”

Ari fucking knows that because it’s one of your traditions. You two go every year and get hot chocolate and fresh pie, then head to the corn maze for your annual competition. As always, you get a head start and he pretends to get lost so you have to find a way out together, and he’ll try—and fail—to fool around with you. Your excuse? “There are families here!”

As if you hadn’t begged him to fuck you in the closet when you were visiting his family for spring break. He had to gag you with your panties, you were so needy and pleading for him to fuck you harder, to fuck you stupid just doors away from his parents. 

You wanted to be caught that day, and right now he wished he let you walk out with his cum on your face. Perhaps then, you’d be filled with humiliation just like the four of them. 

He wanted you to think you got away with it, that you’re still the queen and they’re stupid pawns to your game. Just so he can watch the despair wash over your face, the broken pride will fall from your lips in half-assed apologies. 

You’ll cry and beg for forgiveness, for mercy, but they won’t give it to you. No, they want you to suffer, wallow in distraught—just as Odette did when Siegfried swore to love another. 

He watches you run off, your loud inebriated laughter flowing into the open air, joyous and free, the complete opposite of what you’ll be when the clock strikes midnight. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees three other hooded figures emerge from the forest. One by one, their stark white masks are bathed in the moonlight, screaming or crying or both. He sets your purse by the entrance after taking your cell phone, and only then does he enter the maze. 

It isn’t long until he catches up to you, following the fallen feathers from your costume like breadcrumbs. 

You’re leaning against the haystack wall, flashing him a mischievous smile. Your hands drag down your body, teasingly pulling down the front of your dress to expose your cleavage. 

He steps towards you, craving the heat of your skin. He wants to know just how much the other guys ruined you, but you duck under his arm and race deeper into the maze, giggling madly. 

“Gotta be faster than that, daddy!”

The further you go, the darker it gets. Everything looks the same, all varying in shades of green but you try to not get distracted, sugary sweet victory is hot on your mind. You slow down and listen for heavy feet on the grass, but all you hear are crickets and the gentle wind. 

You scream when thick arms wrap around your waist, heaving you high into the air and pinning you against a haystack. Built arms hook under your thighs as his hips slip snugly between your thighs, brushing your overworked core. 

You laugh, “this is like the movie! What does she say?” You think for a moment, “No, please don’t kill me, Mr. Ghostface, I wanna be in the sequel!” You burst into laughter, playfully kicking your feet, “now the stain makes… uh… sense! It makes sense!” 

The shadows cloud over his masked face, making him look sadder or more scared. Horrified would fit the best, but your drunken head couldn’t find the word. 

“You’re so pretty when you beg.” 

All blood drains from your face and fills your heart, sinking it straight to hell and taking your carefree smile with it. 

“What? You don’t miss me?” His deep voice slices through the silence, “Oh, or do you miss someone else more?” From each turn enter three more figures, matching black robes clad over their shoulders with the hoods pulled down, accentuating their stark white disguises. 

He flips up his mask, making you nauseous in a single motion. “Happy Halloween, bunny.” His long hair frames his pale face and his eyes gleam with cruel amusement as a twisted grin plays on his pink lips. 

You open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. 

“Poor girl, did you lose your voice?” Number three. 

“That’s a shame, I love hearing you scream.” Number four.

The rest of the men remove their masks and your eyes drift over each of them. The sick glee drips off their faces and entwine with ferocious hunger. They surrounded you like predators to prey, the reapers to bring you to your inescapable fate—and they were ecstatic about it. 

Number two doesn’t look as happy as Curtis and Ransom, in fact, his expression was unreadable. He was quiet and cold, not only with his schooled features, but he didn’t speak like the rest of them. 

When Steve got quiet, he was terrifying because you didn’t know what to expect. You could only imagine the things going through his head, your sweet, loving, baker boyfriend had a dark side, one that you’ve only seen a handful of times if some guy hit on you. 

He always managed to leave the scene before things got too intense, but you feared this wasn’t one of those times. 

“N-No…”

“No? Did you miss me the most then?” Ari asks mockingly, blue eyes drawn low, “you loved me first, so you must love me the most too.”

You can’t feel the tears streaming down your numb cheeks but you know they’re there, and that’s only confirmed when Ari wipes one with his thumb, and sucks it into his mouth. Your salty misery is his favourite taste but it isn’t enough, all four of them want your ultimate destruction. 

“Cry all you want, bunny. Karma doesn’t give a shit if you’re sad or scared.” Oh but they wanted you to be petrified, “You reap what you sow—and for you, sweetheart, it’s time to bite the bullet.” 

𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: did someone say a hate fucking gangbang? Bc that’s what’s going to happen. we're starting no nut November with nuts, but oops !! p.s. the date for the next part is on the fic masterlist.

𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞! check out the rest of my kinktober masterlist for my other spooky slutty fics !!

As always, I hope you all enjoyed this and I’d love to hear your thoughts/feedback !! <3 — ☼ 𝐃𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐊𝐨-𝐟𝐢 ☼

I don’t do taglists anymore. ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 & 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲: @𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

[lucigooseart]

matthew lillard & his legacy <3

-

a ray of sunshine and a constant inspiration.

[gostlyghost]

𝐆𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐲𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭.

Stu Macher. ”Surprise Sidney!”

[abriefnirvana]

Do people still do song based fics? I used to love those but I don’t really see them around any more. Would yall be interested in me making a song list? As potential inspiration and stuff like that. If so also feel free to send in song suggestions in my request to add to it.

[babiebom]

Welcome!!

Masterlist of all my works!

I'm Babie or bom or any other nickname you want i dont mind as long as its nice!

I used to be thee fanfic fairy but decided to rebrand

I'm 23 my mbti is INFP

She/her but I don't mind they/them

My ult boygroups are nct(prefer dream), seventeen, bts, exo, and super junior

Biases: Ten(wayV), Yuta(127), Jeno/Jisung(dream), Hoshi/Scoups/Woozi, Yoongi, Chanyeol, Donghae

My ult girlgroups are blackswan, twice, girls generation, red velvet, Le Sserafim, Kep1er

Biases are Fatou(I love all of them tho), Jihyo, Tiffany, Joy, Yunjin, Bahiyyih/Yujin

I often play video games!

Mainly Stardew, Minecraft, Sims, and Dead by Daylight

Though I do play Apex Legends, GTA, Halo(the old ones its been a while), Valorant(only deathmatch bc people are scary), other simulators

I do like kdramas though I havent seen many recs are appreciated

Same with anime and mangas!!

Remember to press read more for who I write for and my rules!

Who I write for!

📽Tv shows, Movies, and books 📖

MCU

Criminal Minds

Doctor Who

Twilight Saga

Harry Potter

The Walking Dead

The White Lotus

The Outsiders

Once Upon a Time

🖱Games💻

Dead by daylight

Stardew Valley

Mystic Messenger

Five Nights at Freddy's(specifically security breach but others are fine too)

Dream Daddy

Texas Chainsaw Massacre

🗯Anime🍥

Ouran High School Host Club

Black Butler/Kuroshitsuji

Rules!

Remember these are to keep everything nice and safe!

I currently do not write full on smut, but requesting NSFW things are allowed I do not mind writing suggestive things or mentioning sex it's just writing actual sex scenes as someone who is a virgin seems weird to me

Requests are always open unless stated otherwise, when requesting please do not hound me I am often suffering from writers block but I will get around to it as soon as I possibly can!

No homophobia, transphobia, racism, ableism, or anything of the sort of any kind in comments or tags

No bullying!

If you have criticism please be polite about it! I accept it but being mean and leaving hateful and mean comments will get you blocked and your comment deleted. No second chances

If you are under the age of 18 please do not interact with my work. Reading it is up to you though I would advise you to be careful with what you ingest online!

No spamming please!

Recommendations are allowed just be kind about opinions and NO SPOILERS PLEASE

I will not write anything nsfw or shipping wise for underage characters

Anything Ouran related is aged up because In my eyes they are adults since I finished the manga

I do not write for Freddy Kreuger. I hate the bitch

[whorefordean]

sometimes i think i'm so casual about something then i go and write fanfiction about it

[witchywithwhiskey]

in the woods with a couple of masked men

pairing: bucky barnes & steve rogers x female reader

summary: you've been flirting with steve rogers and bucky barnes for a month at the bar you all frequent with your friends, and on Halloween, when you tell them about your fantasy of being chased through the woods by masked men or men, they decide to make it a reality.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), threesome, smut, piv sex, unprotected sex, creampie, oral sex (m receiving), chase kink, mask kink, light bdsm, light degradation, praise kink, light choking, roughness, check-ins, pet names (baby, sweetheart, pretty girl, sweet girl) aftercare, halloween shenanigans

word count: 3.6k

a/n: this was my idea for my third and final halloween fic this year and i was really disappointed that i ran out of time to do a fully developed version, but i figured i'd put together something short and (hopefully) hot. this still ended up longer than i expected, but it's much shorter than my normal halloween fics so i hope that's ok 😅 happy (almost) halloween y'all!! ♡

halloween fics masterlist

"What do you want for Halloween, pretty girl?"

"I want a masked man—or men—to chase me through the woods and fuck me to within an inch of my life," you answered, a wicked smirk curling the corners of your mouth. 

Your eyes slid away from the men you were talking to, casting a glance around the dingy dive bar that was more crowded than normal on Halloween night. You cut your eyes back to them and lifted a single shoulder in an apathetic shrug, your smirk still flirting at the edges of your lips.

"Y'know, just what every girl wants for Halloween."

You were talking to Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes, who you’d met a month before Halloween. One of their friends had started flirting with one of your friends at the bar you all liked to frequent, and as that relationship blossomed into more than flirting, you started seeing them more. 

You'd gravitated to the handsome best friends, unable to resist talking to them, drinking with them, commiserating with them as your friends grew more and more flagrant with their public displays of affection. Besides, Bucky and Steve hadn't seemed to mind the way you'd laugh at their jokes—even the not-so-great ones—or lean against them when you grew tired late into the night. 

Still, you didn't know what impulse had prompted you to tell them about your deepest, darkest fantasy. It must've been some deadly combination of loneliness and recklessness, and the ease you felt when you were around Steve and Bucky. But you couldn’t bring yourself to take it back. 

Not when the men reacted by sharing a look like they planning something. Just the thought that they might be thinking about indulging your fantasy made you squeeze your thighs together and lean into the heat emanating from them.

Of course, you were also a little chilly, having worn a skimpy little dress as part of your Halloween costume, but you leaned closer to Steve and Bucky in the crowded bar for warmth and to inhale the intoxicating scent of their cologne, which sent more curls of heat dancing through your veins. 

Without looking away from each other, their arms wrapped around you and they crushed you between their chests while they continued their silent conversation. You waited patiently, soaking up Bucky and Steve’s warmth until they turned to you, matching grins on their faces.

After a hushed conversation and a couple rounds of Steve and Bucky asking, "Are you sure you want this, sweet girl?" you found your friends and told them you were leaving with the men. 

You told your friends you had your phone on you and promised to keep your location turned on, to check in when you were on your way home. Your friends cackled happily for you and shooed you off with Bucky and Steve. 

When you got to the woods, Steve and Bucky each slipped on a Ghostface mask. Your breath caught in your lungs when you saw the big, muscled men dressed in all black and wearing the masks, your heart beating faster in your chest as excitement and desire churned in your belly. 

One of them said they were giving you a 30-second head start, so you turned and bolted into the trees, running as fast as you could to put as much distance between you and them in the short time they’d given you. But only 10 seconds later, you heard them start to chase you. 

You didn't have the breath to call out and accuse them of cheating, you were too focused on making the game as hard for them as possible. So you ran harder through the woods, losing them in the spindly trees cast in shades of silvery blue by the light of the moon.

For long moments, you ran without hearing anything behind you. You didn't know if you were truly giving Bucky and Steve a run for their money or if they were playing with you, but you didn't hear them chasing you until your lungs were burning and your legs were aching. 

All at the same time, you heard a twig snap, the rustle of leaves. A hand snatched at your skimpy little dress, snapping it against your skin when you pulled out of their grasp. A grunt of frustration sounded as a scream welled in your throat, but you couldn't let it loose through your panting, gasping breaths as you ran on. 

Fingers closed around your wrist and you shrieked in surprise, whirling around to wrench yourself free as you ran, turning to look over your shoulder and catching a glimpse of the eerie white Ghostface mask with its yawning, wide open mouth. 

That glance you spared for your pursuer would be what got you caught—the first time.

With your head turned to look over your shoulder, you didn't see where you were going, and you crashed right into a big, hard chest. You bounced off it with your momentum, but strong arms wound around your waist, holding you pinned to the warm body pressed flush to your curves.

"Got you, baby," came a muffled voice through the mask.

You couldn't for the life of you tell which man it was, whether it was Bucky or Steve. Although, it didn’t really matter to you, your body burned with desire for each of them equally. 

"What're you gonna give me to let you go?” the man taunted, his mask tipping down in such a way that you knew his eyes were dragging down to your cleavage, which was in danger of spilling out over the low neckline of your dress. "C'mon, slut, you look like you know how to please a man—so please me, and I'll let you go."

Arousal swirled through your body at the degrading way he spoke to you—you’d told Steve and Bucky back at the bar that you liked a little degradation and you were pleased that they were running with it. You couldn't help the impish smirk that spread across your face in response to the man’s filthy request.

"You're right, dirty man, I know exactly what to give you," you purred running your hands down the man's chest and trying to catch his eye through the mask. 

Staring into the spooky visage of the Ghostface mask, you began lowering yourself to your knees and the man helped guide you down. His hands worked open the front of his jeans, undoing them and pulling out his cock while you settled on the cold, leaf-covered ground.

Without preamble, you sucked the man's half-hard cock into your mouth, relishing the way he groaned above you. His hands cradled your head, petting you idly while you licked along the velvety soft shaft, humming happily as you felt him harden against your tongue. He tasted musky, his scent filling your senses and making you gush with wetness between your thighs.

The man’s moans were loud in the forest as you bobbed on his cock, sucking him harder and faster and pushing him closer to his release. Distantly, you wondered where the other man was, but didn't concern yourself overmuch with it as you focused on making the man in front of your cum.

When you could feel that he was just about to let go, his thick cock throbbing against your tongue, you pulled away and broke free from his hold, leaping to your feet and darting off into the woods. His ferocious, frustrated roar followed you through the trees and you couldn't help the cackling laughter that tumbled from your lips as you ran.

Immediately, you could hear the man crashing through the underbrush after you and you had to wonder if he'd even paused to put his cock away before bolting after you. 

It seemed you hadn’t learned your lesson, because you risked a glance over your shoulder, trying to get a peak of whether he was chasing you with his cock out, and at that moment, a hand reached out and grabbed your arm, towing you into another strong, broad chest.

"What'd you do to him, sweetheart?" came another muffled voice as the second man pinned your back against a tree, caging you in with his thick arms.

You couldn't help but laugh as you told him how you'd left the other man with his cock out and throbbing with need, teetering on the edge of his release. From behind his eerie Ghostface mask, the man in front of you tsked, shaking his head slowly, almost like he pitied you.

"You're gonna pay for that, pretty girl," he murmured in a husky, muffled voice. His hands slid down the sides of your body, making you shiver at the way he groped you softly, reverently. He was cupping your tits and squeezing your hips in a way that made your body hum with heat as he said, "If you're a good girl for me, maybe I'll convince him to go easy on you."

Warm palms skimmed down the outside of your thighs, fingers curling in the hem of your dress before pushing it up higher and higher… 

You almost wanted to give in, to be good for him. Almost.

Instead, you scoffed, "Yeah, right,” and shoved roughly against the man's muscled chest. Though he barely budged, the movement dislodged his hands from your body and you managed to slip away from him, taking off again into the woods.

The man's loud laughter followed you, which was even more deliciously terrifying than the other man's roar had been. 

Fleeing from both of the men, you tried to run harder, but you were growing tired—both of running and the game.

It was a good thing, then, that you didn't get far. 

It seemed Bucky and Steve were sick of the game as well, because only a few seconds after the man’s laughter died in the night sky, a large body crashed into your back, tackling you to the forest floor. 

Whoever caught you wound an arm around your waist and braced a hand against the ground so you didn't get hurt, but you still landed with a soft, "oof," of surprise. The body at your back covered you with its weight, pushing you deeper into the cold, damp leaves blanketing the dirt.

"I'm gonna make you regret leaving me like that, slut," said a gruff, menacing voice in your ear. A hand was pushing up your dress and ripping your panties down your legs while another was fumbling with a zipper, his knuckles grazing your bare ass. 

The head of a cock grazed your folds, which were drenched with your desire, and your fingers sank into the soft soil beneath you as you arched into him, biting back a desirous moan. The man's hand grabbed your waist, leaning over you so the cold plastic of the Ghostface mask butted into your shoulder. 

"You good, pretty girl?" he rumbled, his voice gentler as he checked in with you.

Your body, which had been tense an intoxicating mix of fear and arousal, relaxed at the question and you smiled, turning your head to catch the man's eye through the mesh of the mask. You shot him a playful smirk.

"Fuck me hard, filthy man," you purred, arching beneath him and pushing against the hard ridge of his cock so it slid through your slippery folds. "Show me how a dirty little slut like me deserves to be fucked."

The man groaned, shifting his hips so he could sink into your wet heat with one thrust, wringing a cry from your lips as his thick girth stretched your tight cunt. When his hips were pressed flush with your ass, he paused and you both took a moment to breathe and adjust to the feel of him inside your pussy.

You didn’t know if the other man had been watching you, timing it perfectly, but it was at that exact moment that he stepped in front of you, dropping down onto his knees as he undid the button and fly of his jeans. He spread his thick thighs and sank down onto his haunches so his cock was level with your face when he pulled it out. 

"Why don't you show me what that pretty mouth can do, sweet girl," the man cooed, his voice distractingly patronizing even muffled through the mask. "Be a good girl and suck my cock while your pussy gets pounded."

You didn't need any more encouraging than that, lifting yourself up onto your arms so you could lick along the thick ridge on the underside of the man's cock, smirking when he groaned. 

"Ya like that, perv?" you teased in between pressing wet, suckling kisses to the velvet-wrapped steel of his shaft. "Like getting your cock played with by a slut you caught in the woods?" 

"Fuck yes," he groaned, cupping your head in his hands and urging you closer to the tip. You wrapped your lips around the head, enjoying the taste of his precum leaking onto your tongue, and sucked him hard. "Oh fuck, your mouth feels so fucking good, sweetheart."

You'd planned to tease the man's tip a little longer, but the man behind you seemed to be done letting you adjust to having two cocks in your holes. He pulled his hips back and slammed inside you again, burying his full length in your pussy and pushing you forward, forcing you to take the other man deeper. 

The cock in your mouth brushed against the back of your throat and you gagged at the unexpected feeling. The man in front of you sat back quickly, pulling free of your lips and letting you suck in air while you coughed and recovered.

"Careful, dickhead," he growled, his voice still muffled through his mask so you couldn't tell whether he was Steve or Bucky. His hands idly stroked the top of your head and you found yourself leaning into the soft gesture.

"Sorry," the other man mumbled, his hands squeezing your hips apologetically.

"No, no, I want it rough," you said in a husky voice, straining your body to get your mouth back on the cock in front of your face. You pressed a kiss to the underside of the man's length, looking up at him from under your lashes. "I told you not to hold back—I want everything you can give me, please.” 

"Fuck," the man in front of you grunted at the same time the man behind you groaned, starting to thrust into you slowly, making you feel every inch of his cock dragging along the inside of your pussy. The man who'd spoken stroked his fingers down your cheeks, catching a tear that had escaped when you'd gagged. "You're gonna spoil us, sweet girl, letting us use your pretty holes like that."

"Good," you said firmly, before swirling your tongue around the tip of his cock, moaning at the taste of him. You couldn’t wait to swallow his cum, to be filled of both of them. “Then maybe you guys will do this again with me."

"Fuck yes we will, baby," the man behind you groaned, covering you with his body and pinning you into the forest floor while his hand wrapped loosely around the front of your throat. His mask bumped against your cheek as he spoke in your ear. "We'll fuck you anytime and anywhere you want, pretty girl—all ya gotta do is ask."

A delirious smile curved your lips and you were just about to make some sassy comment, but then he thrust hard into your pussy, wrenching a sharp cry from your mouth as pleasure spiraled through your body. The other man used the opportunity of your parted lips to thrust his cock inside your mouth, careful not to go too deep. 

Steve and Bucky worked your body in tandem, one of them pinning you to the cold ground and fucking you from behind, while the other held your head steady and fucked your mouth. All you could do was take everything they gave you, never knowing which one was which, moaning as they pushed you to the edge of pleasure.

You were writhing on the ground, your hands grasping at the damp leaves and the thick, jeans-clad thighs of the man in front of you, searching for something to hold onto as your pleasure spiraled higher. You were arching your back to take the cock deeper into your pussy, whining pitifully as you begged wordlessly for your release, unable to control yourself when you were so desperate to cum.

The men must've understood because they hauled you up onto your hand and knees, never removing their cocks from your holes. As they continued to fuck you, they positioned your body so that the man behind you could slip his hand between your thighs and find your needy, aching clit.

"Cum for us, slut," he growled in your ear. 

The other man thumbed the tears from your cheeks as he pushed his cock deep into your mouth. He'd opened your throat enough for him so you didn't gag too much, but he fucked you through it anyway, until his cock was rubbing against the other man's hand as it bulged in your neck. 

"Be a good girl, sweetheart, and cum on our cocks," the man in front of you urged, his balls pushing against your chin as he buried himself in your mouth and groaning when your muscles contracted as you swallowed around him. "Wanna feel you scream on my dick."

"Yeah, baby, gotta feel your sweet cunt milk me," the other man groaned into your ear, rubbing your clit unrelentingly while he pounded into you hard enough you could hear the sharp sounds of his hips smacking against your ass. "C'mon, don't you want us to fill your holes with our cum—cum for your masked men, sweet girl.”

You didn't know what tipped you over the edge—whether it was the muffled, filthy words or the fingers on your clit, or the pair of cocks ruthlessly fucking your holes—but something set you off, and you came harder than you ever had before.

A shrieking scream worked its way up inside you, making the man in front of you moan loudly when your throat constricted around his hard length. The man behind you grunted as your pussy clenched on his cock, and he buried himself to the root, moaning at the feel of your inner walls sucking him in deeper.

Pleasure consumed your mind thoroughly, overwhelming you entirely as your body trembled violently. You tried to stay in position for the men, but you knew it was their hands more than your own strength holding you up as the ecstasy of your release wrecked you.

The man in front of you came first, holding your head pinned to his abdomen and spilling his seed down your throat while you swallowed weakly, some of it spilling out around the shaft of his cock and joining the spit and tears making a mess of your face. 

The other man followed a moment later, pressing his hips flush against your ass and coming with a filthy groan, his mask pressed to your shoulder blade and his arms wrapped around your waist while you felt his cock twitch deep inside you.

In the cold, dark forest on Halloween night, the three of you rode out your pleasure together for long, hazy moments. But when the chill of the air seeped into your cooling skin and you began to shiver, Bucky and Steve pulled themselves free from your body and gathered you up in their strong arms. 

Together, they helped you stand, fussing around you as they fixed your dress and tugged leaves from your hair. One of them draped a hooded sweatshirt around your shoulders while the other used your discarded panties to clean the mess from between your thighs.

You'd lost track of who was who as they circled around you to clean you up, so even when Steve and Bucky pulled off their Ghostface masks, you didn't know which of them had fucked your mouth and which had fucked your pussy. 

You didn't care overmuch, it was fun not knowing. Besides, you knew if you asked, they'd tell you which man was which.

"Doing good, pretty girl?" Steve cooed sweetly, dropping his lips to kiss your cheek. His fingers smoothed away the grit of your ruined makeup, making you smile.

"Yeah, so good," you said in a dreamy, breathless voice, catching his eye so he could see the honesty in your gaze when you told him, "Best Halloween ever." 

Bucky chuckled at your statement and tucked you into his side beneath his arm, turning you in a direction you assumed would bring you back to the car they’d driven out to the woods.

"Let's get you home, sweet girl," Bucky murmured, brushing a kiss against your temple while Steve slid in on your other side, his arm wrapping around your waist. They held you clutched between their bodies, and you felt nothing but warm, sated and happy. "You've had your halloween fun with your two masked men, now it's time to rest."

"Yes, sir," you said on an exhale. Though you'd been trying for a playful tone, your voice was soft and sweet and you found you meant it. You trusted them to take care of you, and you let your head fall on Steve's shoulder, snuggling into him while you let the best friends guide you back to the car.

Once Bucky had tucked you into his lap on the passenger’s seat, you texted your friends to let them know you were ok while Steve drove you home. The men helped you inside and, at your request, stayed the night, cuddling up with you in your bed. 

That night, you fell asleep with a smile on your face snuggled between Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes knowing you got what every girl wants (or, at least, what you wanted): some fun in the woods with a couple of masked men—and a Halloween night to remember.

halloween fics masterlist

[drowninnoodles]

YOOOOOOO HOLY FUCKING SHIT THIS IS SO GOOD WHAT THR FUCK AAAAA

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Can u do fanart of Shaggy Rogers, stu macher and movie afton on one pic 😅

I'm sorry about that, but you killed me with Afton's fanart recently....

Fought with myself to not put 13 ghosts lillard in here

[amathslutsguidetofandom]

"I'm Taking That As A Yes, Princess"

PAIRINGS: Ghostface!FratPresident!James "Bucky" Barnes x Reader

WARNINGS: Getting alcohol spilt on you, fingering, a bit angsty? (if you squint), semi-bathroom sex, swering, unprotected sex (darlings, please wrap your man's pig in a blanket), p in v, mentions of cum, handjob, a slight hint of a blowjob and slight fluff? (If I have missed anything, please feel free to let me know 😊)

WORD COUNT: 2,922

*not proof-read*

ENJOY!

Walking into the house, you were immediately surrounded by sweaty, sticky bodies. You grimaced at the overwhelming feeling and tried to find a space where you could catch your breath. The kitchen was relatively empty, except for a couple making out on the counter. You decided to mind your own business, reaching into the fridge and navigating past cans and bottles of beer to grab a water bottle hidden at the back.

You twisted the cap off and took a long sip. Everyone was dressed up differently, which made sense—it was Halloween. Instead of babysitting your little cousins, you’d faked being sick to your parents, dressed up, and come to the Alpha Phi house. This wasn’t like you at all. The top student in your class, the teacher’s pet, the early-assignment submitter, the girl who became a TA in her junior year—you were the “good girl.”

So why were you here? Because you’d overheard some girls talking about the infamous Halloween party that the Alpha Phi guys threw every year. And you weren’t the type who usually went to parties. So why this one? Because you’d heard that Steve Rogers was going to show up, and you had a little crush on the star player of the varsity ice hockey team. You’d been trying to muster the courage to talk to him ever since you sat next to him in a lab in your first year. That was two years ago, and you’d been harbouring feelings for him ever since.

Your heart did a little flip every time he smiled at you when you passed him in the halls. Finishing your water, you threw the bottle in the recycling bin and tugged your tutu down to avoid a wedgie. The ballerina costume was a last-minute, twenty-dollar buy, but you were happy with it—the corseted top accentuated your chest, and though the sheer tights were a bit snug, it didn’t bother you too much.

You were making your way through the crowd and spotted a tuft of blond hair. Your heart flipped again. This was it, the perfect moment. You were going to ask Steve if he wanted to go out sometime. He was tipsy enough to say yes, and if he said no, he’d be too focused on his hangover tomorrow to remember your question. You took a deep breath and started toward him.

Then you saw them. You’d thought the rumours weren’t true, that they couldn’t be real. But the sight of Steve Rogers making out with Peggy Carter would be forever etched in your mind, because the pain in your heart was unbearable. You stood frozen, your heart thudding in your chest as you watched Steve's hands roam over Peggy’s body. You clenched your jaw and sniffled, rooted to the spot.

You only snapped out of it when someone spilled their drink on you. “Damn, sorry, gorgeous,” a guy dressed as Fred from Scooby-Doo winked at you drunkenly before chuckling and moving away. You shook your head, trying to clean the alcohol off your costume.

“Hey, buddy. I think you owe the girl a real apology,” another voice piped up. You looked up to see a towering figure dressed as Ghostface, holding Fred by the shoulder. “Now, say you’re sorry—like you really mean it, and none of that half-assed stuff because you’re shitfaced,” Ghostface ordered, crossing his arms. Fred straightened up, looked you in the eye, and apologized sincerely. Ghostface nodded approvingly and sent him away.

Before you realized it, Ghostface had moved closer to you. You turned to see him looking you over, his mask bobbing as if inspecting your costume. He clicked his tongue and put a hand on the small of your back. “C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?”

You both walked upstairs, where the sounds of the party gradually faded, and you were grateful for the quiet. You hesitated when he opened a door and gestured for you to go in.

For the first time that night, you spoke up. “Um, I’m sorry, but I don’t even know who you are.”

The chuckle that followed freaked you out a little, but then he reached up to remove the mask.

James. Freaking. Barnes.

You tried your best to mask your surprise, but you were sure he saw it, because the corners of his lips lifted into a smirk.

James “Bucky” Barnes—the captain of the varsity ice hockey team, a good student, a charmer, the president of Alpha Phi, and most importantly, the best friend of Steve Rogers.

You’ve met James a few times here and there. During some of the varsity games. And passed him in the dorms sometimes. He never caused you any trouble. He even offered to help you move-in in your second year when he clearly saw you struggle push your luggage up the stairs.

You were just acquaintances.

You swallowed and timidly walked into the pristine room, surprised by its immaculate condition. “I certainly didn’t expect a frat president to have such a clean room,” you muttered, hearing James laugh at your comment as he closed the door.

“Well, I don’t work well in a messy environment,” he shrugged and walked closer, his gaze trailing over your corset. You backed up slightly at the intensity of his approach, making him huff a laugh. “I don’t bite, princess,” he said, his fingers grazing the edge of your corset.

He gently guided you to the adjoining bathroom. “I’ll have to wash it out a bit. So, if you don’t mind getting your tutu a little damp, princess…,” he led, waiting for your response. You shook your head, signalling it was fine. He nodded toward the counter, and you hopped onto it.

He wetted a towel and began dabbing it on your clothes. “So, what’s a timid thing like you doing at a fraternity party?” he whispered, his focus on cleaning up the stain. You glanced at his concentrated face before looking away. “What? Can’t a girl come to a party?” you replied, defensively, for some reason.

James chuckled, “Oh, a girl can come to a party. But you, you’re not that type of girl, princess.” You raised an eyebrow at him, puzzled by his statement. “I mean, you never come to parties in general. So why the sudden appearance?” He sighed and caged you between his arms.

You tensed, starting to stammer. “Well, I wanted to see someone,” you shrugged, looking down at your hands.

“Yeah?” James asked, his gaze piercing. “Who was the special guy?”

You looked up at him through your lashes, then quickly looked away. He used two fingers to tilt your face toward him. “Eyes on me, princess,” he said softly.

“Steve. I came to ask Steve out…,” you admitted, spilling your secret.

James looked at you with you look, you couldn’t decipher what it was. But you didn’t know what to feel about it. He looked into your eyes for so long, you started to tear up due to the lack of blinking.

“Steve…,” he dragged it, and it made you wonder why. But you didn’t question it.

He continued to dab the wet cloth to your clothes. “You didn’t have to do that you know… The, um, asking the guy to apologize to me,” you broke the silence, because you couldn’t take the stuffy air that was in between the both of you.

James shook his head and chuckled as he dabbed on your neckline. “If I didn’t my Ma would scold my ear off if she knew. And, besides, a pretty girl needs to be treated right.”

You’re breathing stops at that, and you looked up at him with a confused look. He smirked at your expression, “what?” You shook you head and asked him, “you think I’m pretty?”

James scoffed and nodded, “I would have to be blind if I didn’t think your stunning, princess.”

You didn’t realise but your lips and James’ were a hair breadths away. “James…,” you tried to start but James beat you to it, “Bucky, princess. Call me Bucky.”

You gulped and nodded.

“Bucky.”

He groaned at they way his named sounded on your tongue. “Princess, your killin’ me here,” he whispered more to himself than at you. His knuckles gripped onto the counter tight. “Please…,” he muttered.

“Pardon?” you didn’t catch what he said.

“Please let me kiss you.”

You froze, you didn’t know what to do.

You always thought Bucky was hot. Hotter than Steve, but you never had any classes with him to fully judge him. You were a hundred percent sure that if Bucky was your lab partner instead of Steve, you’d totally be crushing on Bucky instead.

And if that were the case, you’d be nodding your head like a mad man. Steve was taken, you were still recovering from that. Bucky, apparently, liked you. Liked you more than you thought he did.

You saw the way his gaze flickered from your eyes to you lips and back to your eyes. Your tongue darted out to wet your lips, and saw his pupils dilate at the movement.

“I-,” you started but your thoughts were washed away when you saw Bucky lick his lips too. You heart thuds in your chest as you feel like the whole world is dark and the spotlight is just on you with the way Bucky looks like you. There’s a small part of you that wanted to feel how his lips would feel against you.

So, you nodded.

Before you knew it, Bucky was standing between your legs and gripping your hips. He then pulled you close and smashed his lips on yours. You took a second to understand what was going on, but when your conscious did come back to you cupped his face and kissed him back.

He licked at your bottom lip asking your permission to open up your mouth and you allowed it immediately. Soon your tongues were dancing together, yours was meek and shy letting Bucky do all the taking over. You wrapped your arms around his neck and whimpers against his mouth, which just made him groan against you.

He moved his lips from your mouth to your jaw, then to your neck. You tilted your head to give him more access, and the more you let him the more your whimpers turn to moans.

He moves his hands all over your body, “this okay, princess?” He whispered against your skin, and you nodded fervently and grasped at his black cloak. You felt him palm at your chest, and you sighed and whispered a, “more, Bucky, please.” He nodded against your skin and moved his hands up your thighs and squeezes the flesh of your thighs.

You felt the heat pool between your things and squeezed them together. Bucky smirked and pushed them away, “nuh uh, none o’ that.” He got closer to you, and you wrapped your legs around his hips and chuckled. His hands moved to your inner thighs, and you gasped out, the wetness pooling more into your underwear.

You felt his knuckles brushed against your core and you whimpered and dropped your head against his shoulder. “Please, Bucky,” you muttered against his costume. Without any other word he ripped your tights at the centre and felt the wet path of white cotton.

“Oh princess, so wet f’me already?” Bucky snickered and you nodded at his question.  He rubbed his knuckles against your cunt’s lips and pressed his fingers harder when he heard your soft mewl. “You like it don’t you, princess?” To which you nodded again and whispered his name breathlessly.

He pushed your underwear aside and sunk his thick fingers in, and you whined at the intrusion. The sweet stretch felt better than your own meek fingers and soon Bucky was pumping his fingers in and out making your legs shake. “I’m not even rubbing your clit, princess. Your legs are already shaking,” he whispered roughly against your ear.  

His thumb started to rub at your clit and that’s when you lost your mind. You mewled and moaned his name as his fingers were rubbing that deep spot in you and his thumb playing with your button has you becoming a wailing mess. He bends down and started to attack your neck. “Fuck, Bucky. Please,” you cried out as you feel your impending orgasm start to build at your core.

Bucky roughly rubbed at your clit and within seconds your gushed around his fingers. You sighed and untensed your shoulders. Bucky brought his fingers to his mouth, closed his eyes and licked them clean. You whimpered at the sight.

You both leaned in and captured the other in a deep kiss, Bucky picked you up like you weighed nothing and exited the bathroom and walked until he placed you down on his bed.

He pulled the Ghostface mask down and leaned to tower over you. You bit your lip, and he chuckled, “didn’t know princess was a bit freaky, hmm?” He unbuckled his belt under the cloak, and you took off your tutu and tossed it somewhere in his room.

When he managed to get his cock out of his pants, your eyes widened as the sheer size of him and then looked at him to see the small smirk that was painted on his lips. “Something wrong, princess?” You gulped and said, “it’s not gonna fit.”

Bucky chuckled and leaned over you once more and whispered into your ear, “we’ll make it fit, princess.” The tone he used made you shiver, and you gripped onto his shoulders and readied yourself. Bucky ran his shaft up and down you’re sit and you whined desperately.

“Bucky, please. I need you,” you squeezed your eyes shut and threw your head back. He tapped your cheek with two fingers and said, “eyes on me, princess.” And with that Bucky slowly pushed inside you. The stretch was so deliciously sweet and painful it made you lose your mind. You both gasped at the feeling of him moving further into you.

“Fuck, princess. You’re so tight,” he grits out as he starts to slowly thrust in and out of you. Your legs wrapped tightly around his waist and your nails raked down his back and he let out a deep moan which made goosebumps raise on your skin.

The sound of skin slapping on skin wasn’t’ as loud as your wails of Bucky’s name and moans. When the tip of him tapped against that spot in you, your eyes rolled to the back of your mind and you squealed, “Bucky right there, oh! Right there!”

Bucky grabbed a hold of the headboard and thrusted harder into you, aiming at that same spot and you felt tears run down the side of face in pleasure. “Fuck, princess. Gripping me like a vice,” he purses his lips as he knocked his hips against yours.

You felt the sheer length of him move in and out of you, your walls embraced him like he was meant to be there in the first place. “Attagirl. Take what I give you, yeah?” He huffed against your ear. The coarse patch of pubic hair that rested at the bottom of his happy trail, rubbed against your clit giving your that nice friction and it made you whine even more.

He pressed a hand against your abdomen and pressed down harder and it made the feeling even better. He saw how you reacted and pressed down harder, and you arched your back at the feeling. With that you felt the climax in you start to rise, “Bucky, I’m so close.” You whimpered as you watched the man wearing the Ghostface mask rut into you expertly.

He threw your legs over his shoulders and rutted into your harder, the band at your core bends and bends until it finally snapped and soon you were coming around Bucky’s cock.

Bucky groaned deeply at you squeezing him tightly, he pulled out and you whined at the loss of the feeling. He was fisting his length at the sight of you post orgasmic bliss and it looked so hot from your perspective. You quickly got on your knees and replaced Bucky’s hand with yours. “Fucking hell, princess,” he ran a hand through your hair and bunched it up at the back of your head. “That’s it, making me feel so good,” he sighed and threw his head back.

He groaned when you parted your lips, the mushroom head of his member inches away from your mouth. He tipped his head back, “fuck I’m so close.” And soon you felt his warm spent spill down your throat. Bucky moaned at the sight, and his chest reverberated deeply when he saw you swallow.

He pushed you down to lay on your back again and he then he laid next to you. You reached up and took of his Ghostface mask so you can his face. “That desperate to see my face? Hmm?” He smirked at your action. You shook your head and chuckled shyly, “maybe.”

Bucky reached up and caressed your face. “You know you’re really pretty right, princess?” You blushed at his comment, “buy me dinner first, Barnes.” Bucky chuckled and then nodded, “are you free this weekend?”

You froze, “you can’t be serious.”

“Well, I kinda am.”

“You are a piece of work James Barnes,”

“Should I take that as a, yes?”

You chuckled and shook your head; you gave him a soft smile.

“I’m taking that as a yes, princess.”

🎀🎀🎀

A fic posted during the midst of exam period?!

I would like to thank @buck-star for helping me with coming up with this idea!

This took a while and it's ALOT, but late night productivity hit me like a freight train haha.

I've one more exam in the next week and I'll be done!

Hope you lovelies liked this!

Lemme know what y'all think of the fic!

Till' then,

Stay Coquette-y,

Anya 🫶🏽🕊️🎀

[persevereforahappyending]

No Man's Land |9|

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x Reader

Summary: Sam can’t help but be drawn to the cute stranger from her gym, even if everything about them makes them the perfect suspect, just when Ghostface has returned.

Warnings: Fighting, Guns, Violence, Attempted Murder, Shooting

Word Count: 3.5k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9

You and Sam walked back to Blackmore in a comfortable silence. You preferred the quiet and appreciated that she didn’t ask you questions or push you on anything. Sam had no reason to trust you, but she was taking a chance, and you were going to make sure to prove you were worthy of her trust. When you got to Blackmore you and Sam sat on one of the benches outside the building that held Tara’s class until she came out half an hour later. As soon as you had her, the three of you went back to the apartment.

When you got back to the apartment Tara flung her backpack into the corner and plopped herself down on the couch, kicking her feet up as she reached for the remote on the coffee table. She flicked on the TV and instantly began scrolling through one of the streaming apps.

You mindlessly watched at Tara continued to scroll until you felt her eyes on you. You glanced at her and waited to see what she would say. Mindy was the most suspicious of you, which was fair, though she seemed to be more of a conspiracy theorist than anything, Chad seemed almost too trusting of you, it was slightly concerning, and Tara seemed to be hesitant of you, like Sam was with everyone, though she wasn’t as paranoid Sam. The one thing different about Tara though was half her suspicion seemed to come from just being protective of her sister.

“Do you like movies?” Tara asked, squinting her eyes as she waited for your response.

You shrugged. “I’ve seen a few,” you said.

That seemed to make Tara only narrow her eyes even more. “What’s your favorite movie?” You opened your mouth to give her what would probably be an unsatisfactory answer once again. “Wait! Let me guess,” she turned so half her body was facing you. “Saving Private Ryan!” You opened your mouth, but she didn’t stop there. “No! Hacksaw Ridge!” You closed your mouth and waited; you knew she wasn’t done yet. “You have a dog you love,” she mumbled more to herself than you. “War Horse!” She clapped her hands, quite proud of herself for that one. “Wait!” She shot her hand out, grabbing you on your arm as if you were about to get up and leave. “The Patriot.”

You waited a second to see if she had any more, but she just looked at you with a raised eyebrow. You chuckled to yourself with a shake of your head. “All military related because I’m in the military?” You asked.

She shrugged. You playfully rolled your eyes. “Those are all great movies,” you started. You caught Sam out of the side of your eye, she was in the kitchen making a sandwich, but she tilted her head just slightly, indicating she was listening. “The superhero stuff is also good. I-”

“I bet you’re a Captain America person,” Tara cut you off. You rolled your eyes. “You give off the same vibes.”

You gave her a thankful nod. You had never been compared to Captain America before and you were truly honored, though you were inclined to disagree with her. “Cap is great,” you said. “And Steve Rogers is definitely much cooler than me.” Tara shrugged, seeming to agree with you on that. “But I’ve always been more of a Batman person.”

Tara looked at you and nodded her head. “That tracks.” You tilted your head in question, but she didn’t elaborate any further.

“But my default movie, the one I’m always cool to watch, The Mummy.”

“Where Brendan Frazier plays a soldier,” Tara nodded, clearly not surprised by the answer.

“Only in the beginning do the movie,” you defended. Seriously the movie started with him figuring in the desert but that was it when it came to military related things. Unless Tara was also counting the pilot they found to fly them back out there.

“So, you just really love mummies?” Tara raised an eyebrow.

“The Mummy is fantastic, it’s got everything, action, comedy, a supernatural element, and romance. There should be no explanation required.” You had never had to defend liking The Mummy before, you thought Sam’s sister was going to school for film, you figured she’d know this better than anyone. “Oh, and Rachel Weisz,” you added.

“All good points,” Sam said, coming back into the room. She handed you a bottle of water before taking her seat in the chair next to the couch. You gave her a thankful smile; you hadn’t even asked for a drink for her to just bring one to you.

“You too?” Tara shouted, whipping her head around so fast you were surprised she didn’t get whiplash.

Sam shrugged as she curled her feet up on the chair, tucking them under her before reaching for her sandwich on the coffee table. “Who doesn’t love Brendan Frazier and Rachel Weisz,” she said as if they explained everything.

Sam went on to eat her sandwich while Tara was looking at her sister in a whole new light, as if she was seeing her sister for the first time. You were still new and getting to know the sisters, but you were curious why Sam liking The Mummy would be so surprising. Tara just stared at her sister for several minutes before finally going back to scrolling for a movie, finally deciding to settle on The Mummy.

Not long after the movie ended did Chad walk in with a stack of three pizza’s, quickly followed by the others. “Dinner is served!” Chad said, holding up the pizza’s as he took them to the dining table.

“Thanks for picking them up,” Sam said as she got up to grab some paper plates.

Chad waved her off and flipped open all three boxes. Each pizza was different, there was a plain cheese, a pepperoni, and then a meat lovers. You and Tara got up to join the others around the table, everyone grabbed their slices and then went off to separate corners of the room. Quinn took the seat across the room, closest to the door, Mindy and Anika cuddled up next to each other on the floor, Ethan plopped himself down in the seat furthest from the door, and Tara dropped herself down in what was Sam’s seat because Chad stole her spot on the couch next to you.

Once Chad finished up his pizza, he wiped his hands off on a napkin and tossed it onto his dirty plate. He was still chewing the last bit of his food as he switched the channel on the TV and grabbed a PS4 controller. You wiped your own hands and put your trash on top of his, creating an organized little pile. You leaned back and watched the screen as Chad flipped through games.

“What are you playing?” you asked.

“Crash,” he said mindlessly.

“Racing or the original?”

Chad’s mouth opened and closed, gaping like a fish. He looked at you then back at the TV, only to do a double take and look back at you. It was like he couldn’t believe you were asking him about video games.

“R-Racing,” he said. “Want to join?” he reached over and grabbed the other controller and held it out to you.

You shrugged and took the controller from him. “Sure,” you said.

The two of you selected our characters and started the first race. You let Chad pick the track, you knew he’d need the edge anyway. The two of you raced around, doing your laps, you felt everyone’s eyes on you and the TV but you paid them no mind as you drove your way into first place. You were on the last lap when you dropped a TNT crate, only to hear Chad hit it a few seconds later. You quickly crossed the finish line, coming in first, then you leaned back and watched as Chad tried to fight his way back up the line, striving to just not come in last.

You repeated that with the same outcome another three races. Chad was hunched over, pressing the buttons hard as if that would make the cart go faster. You kept your eyes on the screen, never wavering as you completed lap after lap, coming in first every single time.

“You’re good at this,” Chad said. “How are you so good?”

“I play all the time when I’m home,” you said with a shrug.

“That’s why the only thing in your house is a game system,” Sam said.

You looked over at her and smiled. “Got my PS5 and my dog, what more could one possibly want?” Sam tilted her head, seeming to actually think about the question then nodded with a small shrug.

“One more,” Chad said, already flipping through the tracks again.

You rolled your eyes and got ready again as Chad finally selected the track. You were fully prepared to beat Chad on every track, using any character.

You got distracted when you noticed Sam staring down at her phone. You paused the game, ignoring Chad’s protests as you waited to see what was going on with Sam. “Everything okay?” you asked.

Sam looked up, meeting your eyes. “I don’t know,” she said. “Your dad is calling me,” she looked at Quinn.

Quinn furrowed her brow and leaned forward in the chair. “He’s probably just following up,” Quinn said with a shrug. “Or wanting to update you.”

Sam nodded but she didn’t seem too certain in Quinn’s guess. Whatever doubt she was having didn’t stop her from raising the phone to her ear. “Detective Bailey?” Sam spoke into the phone.

You couldn’t hear the other end of the line, but Sam’s furrowed brow deepened. “Yes, I know him,” she said. You look around the room, seeing Chad, Mindy, and Tara all looked just as confused. “Of course, I’m on my way.”

As soon as Sam hung up the phone she was moving and so were you and Tara. Sam didn’t even so much as look at any of you as she grabbed her keys. “Sam,” Tara said. “Sam, what’s going on?”

“Stay here,” is all Sam said.

“What happened?” you asked as you made your way over to the sisters.

Sam finally paused her movements and looked up at you, then at her sister. “That was detective Bailey.” You and Tara both nodded. “He said Doctor Stone is dead.”

“Who?” you asked. You glanced at Tara to see her furrow, her brow before her eyes widened.

“He’s my old therapist,” Sam dropped her eyes to the floor.

You furrowed her brow; you weren’t sure why Sam seemed ashamed of that. You went to a therapist; she didn’t know it was because you were ordered to, but she knew you saw one. She went with you to your appointment earlier, you couldn’t see why she would think you would judge her for seeing a therapist herself. You didn’t want to pressure her though; she didn’t owe you any answers.

“I need to go down to the station,” Sam said.

“Great, let’s go,” Tara said, gesturing for Sam to walk towards the door.

“No, no,” Sam spun around, holding her hand up to Tara. “You’re staying here.”

“No, we’re not splitting up,” Tara shook her head. “School was one thing, but this?” she pointed around her. “No. I’m going with you.”

Sam let out a tired sigh and ran a hand through her hair. “Fine.”

“Obviously I’m coming as well,” you said. Sam opened her mouth, probably to argue with you as well. “This is why you asked me here,” you whispered, looking her in the eye. You weren’t sure what it was but the idea of Sam and her sister going out there alone, at night, after Ghostface killed someone connected to Sam, it didn’t sit right with you.

“Okay,” Sam conceded, nodding. “The rest of you stay here,” she said loudly, looking at each and every one of them. Once they all nodded in agreement Sam finally made her way to the door.

You followed behind Sam and Tara, keeping close as they quickly ran down the steps and out the door without a second thought. You checked your surroundings as soon as you got outside, making sure to keep your head on the swivel.

“Why would Ghostface go after your old therapist?” Tara questioned. “I though you hadn’t seen that dude in months.”

“I haven’t,” Sam said. “It was only a couple sessions before I left him.”

“So, is he important?” you asked, inserting yourself into the conversation.

“No,” Sam shook her head. “As soon as he learned who I was…” she crossed her arms over her chest. “He wasn’t the right fit, we never even got into the details.”

You nodded, you could understand why she might not want to share that information. You didn’t care about why she was seeing a therapist or why she left this Doctor Stone, it was none of your business.  “Then whoever this is might not know you switched therapists.” You looked around, carefully watching the other people on the street as you passed them. “They might have gone after him, thinking he was your current one still.”

Sam furrowed her brow and then nodded. “The only one I mentioned my new therapist to was Tara,” she looked at her sister.

“And I haven’t told anyone,” Tara said.

You nodded. “Good, don’t tell anyone. Your therapist is safer if no one knows who they are.”

Sam and Tara both agreed and continued their walk down the street. It was only a few minutes later when Sam pulled out her phone, you saw over her shoulder that she was getting a call from some guy named Richie Kirsch.

“Why do you still have his number?” Tara asked, clearly recognizing whoever this was.

Sam looked at her sister guiltily. “I couldn’t bring myself to delete his number,” she admitted quietly. You furrowed your brow; you could only begin to guess who this guy was.

“What do you want asshole?” Sam asked as she answered the phone, her attitude quickly becoming aggressive.

You couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation, and you were just watching Sam’s reaction until you caught a shadow moving out of the corner of your eye. You just reacted, your arm shooting out to catch the arm of Ghostface as he tried to bring a knife down on Tara. You knocked Tara back toward Sam with our free arm, and twisted Ghostface’s hand, then punched him in the face.

“Run!” you called out to the girls, hoping they listened to you. As Ghostface stumbled back, trying to shake off the hit you brought your knee up, nailing him in the gut, and sending him falling back into the bushes.

You didn’t hesitate to turn around and take off after the girls, quickly catching up to them. You felt something when you kneed Ghostface, but you didn’t have time to dwell on it as Sam flung open the door to a bodega. You were only a couple steps behind them, swinging the door open to see them begging the cashier to help them.

You looked back and caught a flash of a cloak through the window. You pushed Sam and Tara back, spreading out your arms so that they wouldn’t be easy to hit as Ghostface charged into the bodega. One of the customers stepped forward and was yelling at Ghostface when Ghostface just started stabbing him in the chest and then a few of the other customers.

“The backdoor!” the cashier called out, nodding his head to the side as he reached under the counter and pulled out a shotgun. You glanced back to see a door on the other side of the room. You pushed Tara and Sam towards it so they could get out first as you kept your eyes on Ghostface.

The cashier tried to shoot Ghostface but couldn’t raise the gun before Ghostface reached out and ripped it out of his hands. Ghostface flipped the gun around and blasted the cashier in the chest. Your eyes widened and you turned and grabbed Sam and Tara. Ghostface had just raised the gun and fired at the back door when you pushed Sam and Tara down to the ground behind some of the shelves.

You raised a finger to your lips and then gestured forward, indicating for them the to slowly move. You kept your back pressed against the shelf as Tara and Sam slowly crawled around to the next aisle. When they got over there Sam looked back at you and you gestured for her to continue forward. If they kept going and kept quiet, then they could make it back to the front door and while you distracted Ghostface they could slip right out. Sam seemed hesitant to continue on, but she did anyway.

You stayed low and kept your eyes looking up, waiting for the perfect opportunity. You listened as Ghostface’s boots slowly crunched across the broken glass and bags of chips that were now scattered across the ground. You caught a glimpse of the barrel of the gun when the sound of someone hitting a bottle echoed throughout the room.

You held your breath and froze in place. The barrel of the gun disappeared and then a shot echoed through, hitting the shelf across the room and sending snacks flying. You only had to hear the crunch of Ghostface’s boot to make your move, shooting up from your spot and launching yourself at Ghostface.

You grabbed onto the gun and kept it pointed up as Ghostface tried to turn it on you. The two of you went back and forth, each of you fighting for control of the gun. In your struggle the gun got pointed up and went off, blowing a hole through the ceiling and sending chunks raining down on you.

“Go!” you called over your shoulder. If the sisters didn’t move now, you weren’t sure you could get them another chance.

You heard the sound of footsteps running across the floor and caught a flash of Sam’s jacket out of the corner of your eye. You jerked the gun up, finally ripping it out of Ghostface’s hands. You flipped the gun around and fired, only for nothing to happen, it was out of ammo. You flipped it back around and used the butt of the gun to smack the Ghostface’s chest with all your strength.

Ghostface went stumbling back until he hit the back door. As soon as Ghostface pushed off the door you thew the shot gun at him, making him react and catch it, the impact making him hit the door again. You reached behind you and pulled out your gun, not hesitating to raise it and fired three bullets into Ghostface’s chest.

Ghostface slid to the ground, his back against the wall and his body slumped over as the shotgun rested at his side. You stepped forward, raising the gun to Ghostface’s head when you finally heard the sirens. You dropped the gun back to your side and quickly tucked it back in its holster at your back before making your way out of the bodega.

Almost as soon as you stepped foot outside you were hit with a small impact. You let out a groan and looked down to see Tara with her arms wrapped around her waist. “Thank you,” she mumbled into your shirt. Police officers rushed past the two of you, none of them paying you any attention as they made their way into the bodega, their guns drawn.

“Are you okay?” you asked, looking down at Tara. You weren’t big on hugs but if it made Tara feel better then you were willing to accept it.

“What happened?” Sam asked, rushing up beside you. “Did you get him? Are you hurt?” she looked you up and down, searching for new injuries.

“I’m fine,” you assured her. “I shot him, but I didn’t get him,” you looked back at the front door, just waiting for him to come out.

“What do you mean?” Sam furrowed her brow. Tara finally released you and looked up as she waited to hear your answer as well.

“He was wearing bullet proof vest.”

“Are you sure?”

You nodded. “Flet it as soon as I kneed him on the street.” It took a while with all the adrenaline for you to finally connect the dots as to what you felt. You had more to say btu you didn’t think this was the time or place with all the prying eyes. You knew it was a good idea to keep the information to yourself when the cops came back out and said Ghostface was gone.

You, Tara, and Sam rushed back into the bodega to see the back door open, the lock that was on the door now lay scattered on the ground. Ghostface recovered fast, he could certainly take a hit, but you weren’t surprised he escaped. Just one fight with this Ghostface and you had enough information to narrow down your suspects. You weren’t sure when you’d have the time or privacy to go over everything with Sam though.

Taglist: @thatshyboy1998 @artrizzler19 @btay3115 @acutenobody @godamnityess @luvwanda @rqizzu @riyaexee

[lucigooseart]

afton’s first taste.

a little piece of william after his first kill.

[randomshyperson]

Party Monster - Wanda Maximoff Kinktober #01

Summary: A Halloween party takes an interesting turn when Wanda reunites with her ex-girlfriend. Maybe she'll learn a lesson or two, or maybe she'll still be terrible at following orders.

Warnings: (+18), Dom!Reader with Brat!Wanda, ex-girlfriends who are not over each other at all, really rough smut with teasing and orgasm denial, a lot of cursing, power dynamics, toxic behavior, unhealthy relationship (implied), the “cheating vs we are on a break” dilemma, mentions of a party atmosphere but no explicit alcohol consumption mentioned, Ghostface mask during smut scene ‘cause I’m a simp for Amber Freeman. | Words: 2.688k

A/N- Someone needs to get slasher movies away from me, but I thought this would be a good theme for kinktober. And we started with dom!Reader too because it’s a tradition. Good reading by the way, your horny people.

General Masterlist | Kinktober Collection | AO3 | Wattpad

-&-

It was definitely a bad idea.

Terrible, poorly thought-out, and reckless.

But Wanda finished putting the costume together and the final touch - the black gloves - made her take a deep breath, trying to gain a little confidence in her Halloween costume.

In the bedroom mirror, there was still a photograph that she knew she should have taken from there to at least fool herself that she could move on, but just as she had done dozens of times before, Wanda adjusted the item to prevent it from falling. 

Your smiling figure stares back at her, and Wanda sighs softly, ready to party.

She crossed the campus in half an hour, alone because the girls went ahead and honestly, Wanda wasn't that close to her friends nowadays. Not since the break-up anyway.

"Hey, Wanda!" The male voice shouting her name startles her for a moment. But she forces a smile as she is enveloped in a strong hug, Steve Rogers entering her field of vision in the next second. He looked drunk when she got a closer look. "Glad you could make it."

The forced smile begins to bother her face, so Wanda stops, swallowing dryly and trying not to look so uncomfortable. 

"Yeah, thanks." She mumbles awkwardly, nodding towards the open door, where the party seems even fuller and livelier. "Stark sure knows how to throw a party."

Steve laughs. "That he does." He says, looking ready to start small talk. Usually, he's as out of place as Wanda in crowded environments, but now he's got enough alcohol in his system to seem cool compared to the rest of the team's jocks, who stand out at parties with their eyes closed. "The guys are inside, come say hi and we can get you something to drink."

The non-existent details of the exact people who constituted the " guys " Steve was referring to made Wanda's stomach turn. But the blond had already grabbed her hand and was pulling her into the crowd, and frankly, Wanda wasn't going to make a scene.

She could handle the possibility of you being at the party, even if she hadn't seen you for four weeks. And three days, nineteen hours, and according to the clock by the beers, fifteen minutes.

"Guys, look who showed up!" Steve announces to the group at the ping pong tables. Wanda remembers the first year when you first visited the fraternity house and you made a joke about the number of expensive objects in the place, and she laughed even though she didn't really get the joke. God, she was so whipped back then.

The whole group looks at them at once. Wanda almost giggles at the scene, all the creative costumes are a sight to behold. Natasha in leather outfits similar to her sister's, or Tony in some kind of colorful armor. Thor dressed as the god after whom he was named, and Clint as a green archer. 

And then there was you, with a ghostface mask around your neck so you could get to taste your drink.

You almost choke on the liquid when you meet Wanda's gaze, and she could consider it a personal victory. At least you looked as affected as she was.

It's obvious that the atmosphere gets heavy. Everyone there knows that you two broke up and that it wasn't a pretty thing. Or easy.

And maybe that's why Yelena hides a tense laugh behind her glass of drink and Natasha rushes over to greet Wanda and put an end to the scene.

The only person Wanda really wants to greet tonight puts her mask back on. You drop the glass and leave without saying anything, making the mood even worse. 

Natasha clears her throat and strokes Wanda's arm gently. "Don't mind her, I, we, are happy to see you, sweetheart. I'll talk to her, enjoy the party."

It's sweet of Natasha to worry, but as the night goes on and you don't exchange a word, and you keep ignoring her, Wanda doesn't feel a bit better.

She tries to have a good time, but her gaze keeps seeking out your figure, which manages to evade her curiosity masterfully. 

You disappear for a good few minutes after beer-pong, and Wanda begins to consider leaving. So she dismisses Bucky Barnes' story about a mess with the rival team and decides to be miserable in her bed instead of at a party full of strangers.

She turns into the corridor and there's a Ghostface cornering a pretty girl at the bottom of the stairs.

Anger blooms and dominates her actions before she can think about it. She lunges forward and grabs the figure by the cap of the costume, hard enough to almost knock the couple over.

The male's shout makes her wince.

"Are you fucking mental?" Complains the stranger in confusion and indignation.

"I-I, shit, I thought it was someone else" She stammers with wide eyes, walking backward, away from the confused couple. 

The scene attracts the attention of a few people around, but she feels her back hit somebody and before she can turn around, two hands come around her waist and push her away from the angry guy.

Wanda blinks, and you shove him away harshly. "Back the fuck off, motherfucker." 

The man snorts indignantly. By now, half the party is staring at the scene.  "What the hell? She started it."

"And I'm finishing, fuck off." You cut him off coldly, and you probably wear that costume better than he does, because the guy hesitates and turns away to grab the girl's hand behind him, leaving without saying another word.

You turn your masked face to Wanda, and she feels hers burning with shame. All you do is shake your head in disbelief and take the hard way upstairs.

Wanda follows you without thinking about it.

She stops the bedroom door from closing with her hand and ignores your protest.

"I'm sorry-"

"I don't want to talk to you." You cut her off, holding up a finger. "I don't even want to look at you, Maximoff. Get the fuck out." You advance but Wanda is quicker. She closes the door behind her, and you end up pressing her into the wood by the arms. 

You sigh heavily, as affected as she is. 

"I thought it was you." She confesses in a shaky whisper, her hands trapped behind the body you kept squeezing. "I don't know what I'd do if I saw you with someone else."

You chuckle dryly, taking a step back. "Apparently you'd try to throw me to the ground."

Your attempt to pull away completely is interrupted - Wanda grabs your wrists, trying to get you to wrap your arms around her again. It becomes a struggle of pushing and impatient grunting. Until Wanda is forced against the bed, and her apologies break down into a dirty moan.

Your hand around her neck - in an attempt to get her to shut up and stop repeating what you don't want to hear - has a very different effect. 

You're on top of her, pinning her to the mattress with your own body. Wanda thinks you can feel how wet she is against your thigh.

"Don't make a fucking sound. I don't want to hear you, understand?" You warn, the loosest grip on her throat to allow her to breathe. Wanda nods obediently and has to bite her lip hard when you pull up her skirt, only to grope for her panties. 

Silence is an impossible task, especially when your fingers, so eager and familiar, thrust into her without warning. She squirms, throbbing in your fingerprints, and the sigh of pleasure is yours.

"Fuck, I've missed your pussy." You pant, fucking her carelessly, hard, and deep. The sound of Wanda's soaked arousal makes her ears burn - but she doesn't mind. She's busy trying to keep still, even when you're driving her over the edge so quickly. You notice, of course, and pull out as soon as she's ready to let go, and Wanda breaks into a loud whimper, her hips thrusting restlessly into the air.

You let go of her throat to grab her cheeks. "You're not going to come, Wanda. You don't deserve it. And you know why, don't you?"

Her pussy is throbbing, enough to be almost painful, knocking her out of orbit. All she can do is whimper, nodding; you let out a wicked chuckle. "And why don't you deserve it, darling?"

Of course, you'd make her admit it. Because everything so far hasn't been hell enough. Wanda turns her face away, and with her silence, a slap hits her pussy. She spasms, moaning loudly, her back arched in the mattress. 

She almost came in one go. Holding onto the edge at the last second.

"Oh god please." She whimpers shamelessly, and you grunt, watching the wetness ooze down her thighs, her pussy clenching against the emptiness in front of you. Wanda wants to come so badly that you almost feel sorry for her. "Just... one time. I'll do whatever you want."

You chuckle, and spread her legs a lit more to fit your body, pressing her against the bed. The friction between your joined hips makes her groan, trying to grind up onto you, but you remain firm, holding her still.

"Tell me." You demand. "Why aren't you allowed to come?"

She shakes her head, tears welling up in her eyes. "I... I can't."

You sigh impatiently and walk away at once. Wanda almost cries at the lack of contact.

"Get out of my room."

"N-no, please-"

"Then say it!"

Despite her shame, Wanda swallows her tears. "I fucked up."

You chuckle coldly, busy opening a drawer. "Clarify it." You command, and Wanda only obeys because she knows very well what's in the last drawer of your bedside table, she can feel herself clenching for the feeling. With a dry throat, and looking brazenly at what you're wrapping around your waist, she retorts: "I fucked someone else." She murmurs, biting her lip when the hardness is properly fitted. You laugh dryly.

"Hm, and why did you do that?"

Wanda spreads out on the bed, a bait. You don't fall for it. She pants in anticipation. "I wanted to get a reaction out of you. We're on a break. I wanted you to regret it."

Your hand begins to slowly masturbate the dildo and Wanda lets out a shuddering breath, becoming even more aroused by the image. 

“I’m the one who will make you regret it.” It is your final clarification. But Wanda gasps.

"Take your mask off, I want to look at you."

But you chuckle again, darkly enough for Wanda to shudder. "What you want doesn't matter to me anymore."  You retort, and Wanda has no room for hurt now, the lust and longing for the feel of your body on hers taking over all her senses. "Get on all fours, you’re gonna watch yourself."

Wanda moves on trembling limbs, her face burning. She tries to ignore the mirror in the corner of the room, but as soon as you're behind her, your hand grabs her hair and forces her head up. 

The Ghostface mask stares back at her. "You're going to watch me fuck your needy pussy and you're not going to cum, Wanda. No matter how much you want it, how much you beg for it." You warn sternly, your free hand adjusting the toy at her entrance. "Because petty, selfish girls who ruin a three-year fucking relationship don't deserve to come, do they?"

She shakes her head, at this point, she thinks she'll agree to anything you say. And you must understand that pleasure has gotten the better of her because you start masturbating her entrance with the tip of the fake cock and it's enough for her knees to give way. She whines in a plea.

"Please-"

You sink into her at once, filling her to the brim and Wanda moans throatily, her hands clutching the sheets. The last time you were this deep, playing power games, Wanda squirted on the new sheets, and she's not sure that after going a month without touching you, she can stop it from happening again. "God."

You chuckle hoarsely, seeming to have the best time in the world with this. You pull out of her only to enter again, slow enough for Wanda to let out a sob. "Hold it."

"I-I can't." She cries out, choking on her own breath, and instead of taking pity, you sink in again, picking up a rough pace. Wanda would have fallen onto the mattress, but you grab her hair again and force her to watch what's happening.

"Look how beautiful you are when you're being properly fucked." You tease, your hips never failing against her. Wanda can only moan in return, each second more impossible to stop the knot in her belly from bursting. "I know no one makes you this wet, Wanda. No one knows your body like I do." To prove a point, your hand slips between her legs, and eager fingers flick her neglected clit exactly in the way that makes her squeal to the ceiling. 

Thank God for the loud sound of Tony Stark's parties.

Wanda is sure she's going to cum by now, and you can tell because you've been through this hundreds of times, and you know her body like the back of your hand. The fake cock slides out the second she's ready to let it go, and Wanda collapses flaccidly onto the bed with the lack of your hands while unable to hold back her tears.

"Fuck you, I hate you, I fucking hate you, you bitch." She babbled breathlessly, the frustration of her second stolen orgasm of the night making her groggy. You chuckle as she squirms on the bed, hugging her own body, and Wanda doesn't even notice that you've moved away just to lock the door.

Wanda is still trying to catch her breath when you remove the mask in one pull and kneel in front of her on the bed, between her legs which you pull open. 

You don't give her a chance to prepare, you move in and start eagerly fucking her pussy, ignoring how Wanda writhes on the bed and muffles her moans in the mattress. 

"Oh my god." She meows, her knuckles clutching the sheets, and the only thing stopping her thighs from closing against your head are your hands holding her tight. "I c-can't hold it, detka! 'can't-"

You stop again, and Wanda thinks she might kill you. This time, you sigh into her. "Hold it, or I swear to God I'll switch to another college."

Wanda is forced to chuckle at that. It's stilted and hoarse, and she knows there's a grain of truth in your words, but she does it anyway. Even more annoyed, you stand up. 

She despairs but is giggling nervously. "No, wait, babe, I'll behave, I promise."

It's your turn to chuckle, in disbelief at the scene. Wanda clung to you as if your departure was the worst thing in the world. 

"You're a lying brat, Wanda." You say, and despite the harsh words, your hand gently strokes her hair. Wanda sighs shakily, the redness in her cheeks showing how much she enjoyed the words. You push her hands away and take two steps back. Far enough, you quickly untie the item from around your waist. "I'm going back to the party. And if you want to cum tonight, you'll stay here. Waiting like a good girl."

She opens her mouth to protest, but you hold up a finger in warning, and the seriousness in your gaze is enough for her to know that if she disobeys now, you'll send her away.

Swallowing dryly, she lets you go, and when the door closes, she throws herself back on the mattress. 

Her body’s on fire, and the traces of your shampoo on the pillow don't help. She moans low, adjusting to touch herself. 

Maybe, just maybe, you won't mind if she comes while looking at your picture on the bedside table. 

[kaivenom]

Kai Venom's Masterlist

This masterlist will have all of the fandoms and then you can enter the specific one you like.

Having in mind that this blog is relatively new, there will be a lot of blank spaces on the masterlist for now, but i hope that we can fill it up, in some time.

Under the fandom, there will be the characters i write for, but you can always try to request something new (i am full on with surprises).

New fandoms and characters will be added will be added.

Original Writings

HCS for fandoms (new species, cannon world expansions, etc)

OC's

Original writtings ideas, stories and updates

Bridgerton

Anthony Bridgerton

Benedict Bridgerton

Colin Bridgerton

Cobra Kai

Miguel Díaz

Robby Keene

Eli "Hawk" Moskowitz

Demetri Alexopoulos

Johnny Lawrence

Daniel Larruso

Dc Comics

Bruce Wayne "Batman"

Dick Grayson "Nightwing"

Jason Todd "Red Hood"

Damian Wayne "Robin"

Tim Drake "Red Robin"

Conner Kent

Jonathan Kent

Clark Kent "Superman"

Barry Allen "Flash"

Wally West "Kid Flash"

Nate Heywood "Steel"

Rick Flag

Christopher Smith "Peacemaker"

Adrian Chase "Vigilante"

George Harkness "Captain Boomerang"

Billy Batson "Shazam"

Descentants

Ben Florian

Harry Hook

Gil

Carlos D Vil

Jay

Harry Potter World

Harry Potter

Fred Weasley

George Weasley

Ominis Gaunt

Sebastian Sallow

Garreth Weasley

Heartbreak High

Spencer "Spider" White

Anthony "Ant" Vaughn

Douglas "Cash" Piggott

Malakai Mitchell

Dusty Reid

Jujutsu Kaisen

Itadori Yuuji

Sukuna Ryomen

Nanami Kento

Megumi Fushiguro

Toji Fushiguro

Gojo Satoru

Choso

Julie and the phantoms

Luke Patterson

Reggie Peters

Marvel

Spiderman (the 3 versions)

Miguel O'hara

Steve Rogers "Captain America"

Tony Stark "Ironman"

Quicksilver (the 2 versions)

Peter Quill "Starlord"

Loki

Thor

Bucky "Winter Soldier"

Stephen Strange "Dr. Strange"

Venom/Eddie Brock

Moon Knight

Ciclops

Angel

Havok

One Piece

Monkey D. Luffy

Roronoa Zoro

Vinsmoke Sanji

Ussop

Trafalgar Law

Eustass Kidd

Killer

Dracule Mihawk

Sir Crocodile

Donquixote Doflamingo

Shanks

Smoker

Portgas D. Ace

Sabo

Outer Banks

JJ Maybank

Rafe Cameron

Peaky Blinders

Thomas Shelby

John Shelby

Arthur Shelby

Finn Shelby

Michael Gray

Slashers

Bowers Gang

Ghostface

Sinclair brothers (from House of Wax)

Stranger things

Garreth Emerson

Eddie Munson

Steve Harrington

Billy Hargrove

Supernatural

Sam Winchester

Dean Winchester

Gabriel "The Trickster"

Jack Kline

Castiel

The Bear

Carmy Berzatto

Luca

The umbrella academy

Five Hargreeves

Klaus Hargreeves

Diego Hargreeves

Ben Hargreeves

Vikings

Ivar the boneless

Ubbe Ragnarson

Hvitserk Ragnarson

Bjorn Ironside

Sigurd Ragnarson

[themidnightcrimson]

ghostface ࿏ wm

summary: in which wanda has been missing for months, and the last place you expected to find her was behind a ghost mask with a knife in her hand.

words: 7.7K

warnings: ghostface!wanda, top!wanda, fem!reader, blood kink, knifeplay, dubcon/noncon, cumstrap (r receiving), horror and fear, lots of blood, some more blood too, also there is blood

this post is a dark!fic and is for 18+ only. minors dni.

masterlist.

Steve passed behind the couch and handed a bottle of beer over your head. “Thanks, Rogers,” you said as you took the chilled bottle, handing it to Natasha who sat beside you on the couch for her to open it for you.

You watched as Nat reached into the pocket of her leather jacket and took out her switchblade, flicking the lever so that the dainty but incredibly sharp knife popped up in front of her face. The light from the movie playing on the television in the dark room reflected off the spotless blade. She smirked a little, always proud to show off her knife skills, as she took your beer bottle and used the knife to pop the cap, cold smoke hissing from the bottle’s rim. She handed it back to you and tossed the cap onto the pile of beer caps sitting on the coffee table in front of you. The three of you had really blown through several cold ones that night.

You, Steve, and Natasha had recently started having weekly Friday movie nights. Each Friday, you got together in Natasha’s homely little apartment and ate pizza and drank beer while watching a scary movie of your choice. Naturally, Natasha chose the Texas Chainsaw Massacre the first night, and the next week, Steve chose the original black and white Frankenstein movie which he said was scary enough for him. This week it was your turn to choose, and you had chosen The Conjuring.

Steve winced from behind his beer bottle as the movie played. He looked funny, a large muscular man, cuddling up on the old blue recliner and struggling to hold his stomach down as the movie played. Natasha watched it with wide eyes that didn’t blink and an amused smirk on her lips. You were somewhere in the middle, not as easily bothered as Steve but not coldhearted sociopath like Nat. Still, when something did get to you, you always grabbed Nat’s arm and hid your face in her hair.

Things had been different the last few months. Before, there would be two more people in your party—Wanda and Vision. They were soulmates in the form of best friends, although everyone knew Vision had a crush on Wanda. Although she found him annoying, he was a doting friend whom she cared a lot about—you all cared a lot about.

Two months ago, Vision was driving when his car was struck by a large truck losing control. He died twice—once on the road, his bloodied bodied having flung through the windshield and onto the concrete where his head cracked. The paramedics were able to revive his pulse and take him to the hospital. In the middle of an emergency surgery that was supposed to save his life, his pulse stopped and did not come back.

The worst part was that Wanda was there the whole time—in the car with him before the wreck, crouched over his body as the paramedics resuscitated him, holding his hand in the screeching ambulance, and outside the room when the doctors pronounced him dead again. Vision had died twice—and Wanda watched each time.

It was Vision’s dying wish to have his body dedicated to science, so there was no burial. When Wanda completely disappeared, there was not even a funeral held. No one had seen or heard from her since Vision died, and you remembered that every time you saw your friends. Her absence was unignorable.

When the movie was finally over, Steve insisted that you watch something lighter so that he could feel better before going home. Natasha laughed as he put Bluey on.

“God, I feel drunk,” you groaned as you laid your head back against Nat’s sofa and cast your legs across her lap. “We drink too much.”

“You drink too much, bunny,” Nat remarked as she opened another beer for herself. “You’ve gotta remember you’re still a lightweight.”

“Have some water,” Steve said, grabbing a water bottle from the table and tossing it to you. The water felt refreshing on your tongue as you chugged half of it in one go.

“Woah there, everything you just drank is gonna come right back up,” Nat laughed, gently taking the water bottle away from your mouth as you swallowed the last bit and wiped the stray drops from your mouth.

Feeling antsy from the movie, Steve opened his phone and checked his messages. You watched as his eyebrows sewed together, his eyes widening. “Guys.”

“What?” Nat sighed, casually casting an arm over your shoulder as she stared mindlessly at the TV.

“Sam just sent me this article,” Steve said, turning the phone so that you and Nat could see the screen. “Apparently, we got a killer on the loose.”

Natasha leaned forward with concern, reaching over you to grab Steve’s phone so she could read it. You peered over her shoulder and saw that the article said there have been multiple fatal stabbings across the city in the past week all linked to one unidentified suspect. Out of abundance of caution, the police department was issuing a citywide curfew starting at 11 p.m. and warned citizens to be on the lookout for a tall, cloaked individual wearing a white ghost mask.

“Ghost mask,” Natasha remarked as her eyes read over the words at the same time as yours. “Jesus Christ.” She handed Steve’s phone back to him.

Steve sighed and read over the article again. “What has the world come to?”

Your face was set in an expression of concern as you thought over the circumstance, and then you remembered that the city has issued a curfew. Grabbing Nat’s wrist, you turned it and looked at the time on her watch. “It’s 10:50. The curfew starts a 11.”

“Shit,” Steve groaned in realization, looking at his watch, too.

“You guys can just stay here tonight,” Nat offered, sitting up with urgency.

“Nah, Nat. I have to train early in the morning,” Steve said, pushing his phone into his pocket and downing the last of his beer before slamming it down on the coffee table. “And after that movie, I’m barely gonna get enough sleep tonight as it is.”

“I bet I could make it home before 11 if I leave now,” you said, standing up to your feet.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Nat said as she sprung to her feet with you. You looked at her questioningly, and she tilted her head and hesitated. “If there really is a killer on the loose, you shouldn’t be walking home alone at night, curfew or not.”

“I need to get home to feed my neighbor’s cat,” you argued. Nat’s eyebrows raised, and you sighed and explained, “She went on vacation for a week, and I’m supposed to feed the cat every night. It’s already so late—the kitty’s probably starving by now.”

“Then let me walk you home.”

You tilted your head like hers. “Then you would be the one walking home alone, silly.”

“I’ll get her home,” Steve announced as he slipped his brown jacket on. “Her apartment is on the way to mine.” Nat stared at him, not very convinced. “It will be fine, Nat. But if she’s going to leave, we need to do it now.”

Throwing her head back in frustration, Nat gave in. “Fine. But you better use yourself as a human shield if a guy in a ghost mask jumps out of an alley at you.”

Steve crouched and leveled his fists in front of his face, punching the air in front of him. You and Nat just stared blankly at him as he straightened and smiled sheepishly.

“Aren’t you the one who just nearly pissed your underwear from a scary movie?” said Nat.

“That’s demons!” he argued. “I’m a total boss in real life.”

“Don’t ever say total boss again,” Nat grumbled as she picked up your jacket from over the couch and slipped it over your arms gently. Nat was always extra caring and protective over you. Whether it was a best friend thing, a sister thing, or something more, she always did everything possible to make you feel safe and taken care of, especially after Wanda disappeared. She knew how close the two of you were and how much it affected you when she up and left.

Natasha walked the two of you to her front door, Steve leaving first and you following after. Before you passed through the door, you stopped, turning to Natasha who stood close to you.

You hesitated. You had asked everyone you knew this question a million times, almost every other day. You felt annoying and absurd, but you just couldn’t help the constant gnawing feeling inside you that was driving you crazy. But you knew Nat would never judge you.

Natasha read the concern on your face, crinkling her brow and leaning closer to you. Looking up at her, your lips opened a few times before you whispered, “Have you heard from Wanda?”

She must have assumed that was what you were going to ask, because her lips pressed into a straight line and her eyebrow softened. “No, I haven’t bunny,” her raspy voice assured you.

Disappointed, you sighed and looked at the ground. Nat’s hand met your shoulder, her warm palm rubbing it comfortingly.

“She just needs some time.”

“It’s been two months, Nat.”

“Everyone grieves differently, bunny,” she told you as she had told you a million times before, after each time you had asked her. “She’s grieving Vision, and you’re grieving her. Just as you want her to move on, you need to move on, too.” Hearing someone tell you to just move on was never the best advice, but with the way Nat was holding your shoulder and the gentleness laced in her voice, as if she was afraid that talking too loudly might break you, you found it assuring.

“Okay,” you whispered. She gave you a look questioning if you were okay, to which you answered with a slow nod and a soft smile.

“10:52!” Steve called from down the apartment hallway.

Nat quickly leaned forward and kissed the top of your head. “Be safe, bunny.”

“You, too.” You patted her arm and turned away, catching up to Steve who led you down the stairs.

Everyone had taken the curfew seriously, because the streets were nearly empty as Steve walked you home. He talked about all the training he had to do in the morning, to which you disinterestedly listened because it comforted you from the dark, quiet streets. Once you finally made it home, Steve hugged you goodbye and left to go to his apartment just a couple blocks over.

First, you took out the key your neighbor had given you and went into her apartment, being met with her orange and white cat who was already meowing at the door when you walked in.

“Hi, kitty,” you cooed, leaning down to rub the cat’s back as he pushed his forehead against your shin, his tail curling around your calf. “I’m sorry kitty, I know you’re so hungry.”

You got the food out from the cabinet where your neighbor kept it and poured it into the cat’s bowl, watching him instantly settle down into proper loaf position to hungrily eat.

“I’ll be earlier tomorrow,” you promised him, giving him a few more pets before you watered your neighbor’s succulents and then left, making sure the door was locked behind you. A door down, you entered your own apartment, sighing and letting your back lean against the cool door for a moment.

Coming back home alone was always depressing. You didn’t understand. You had lived alone for years because you liked it that way—you liked having your own space, your own things, your own comfort zone to relax in. The past two months, the emptiness was deafening.

“Maybe I should invest in a cat,” you murmured to yourself as you slid your jacket off and hung it on the coatrack.

After taking a shower, you still felt a little too tipsy to sleep. Plus, as braver you were than Steve, the movie did have you feeling a little on edge. So instead of going to bed like you normally would, you dragged your favorite fuzzy blanket from your bed to the couch and turned on Bluey, starting where you left off at Nat’s. You also got a bowl of Lucky Charms both for comfort and because you needed your stomach to settle from all the pizza grease and alcohol.

Five minutes into Bluey and stuffing your face, you felt your phone ringing from the table beside the couch. Crunching on the cereal, you glanced over to your phone that vibrated, moving slightly atop the table. It was Nat’s contact lighting up your phone, the screen filled with your favorite picture of her where she’s wearing a green face mask with a cucumber slice over one eye, her other eye squinting open.

Shifting the bowl to your right hand, you reached to your left and grabbed the phone, tapping the answer icon and bringing it to your ear.

“Yes, I made it home safe, Nat. Steve didn’t get stabbed, nor did I, and everything’s safe. You can sleep soundly tonight,” you immediately answered with a little giggle, already knowing that she was calling to bombard you with questions about if you made it back safely.

There was a beat of silence where all you heard was Bluey playing in front of you and the distant sounds of your neighbor’s cat meowing. A staticky hushing sound flooded through your phone’s speaker, and then a voice.

“Speaking too soon?”

The left side of your face where the phone was pressed tingled at the unfamiliarity of the voice in your ear. It was a strange, raspy voice, and you could tell almost instantly that it sounded audibly modified.

You second guessed yourself—was it someone else who called you? You took the phone away from your ear and looked at it again, but it was still Nat’s name in heart emojis and the picture of her in the green face mask with the cucumber slice over her eye. You brought it back to your ear, eyebrows sewing in confusion.

“Who is this?”

“What’s your favorite scary movie?” the voice drawled, low and hoarse in your ear, a tone of excitement laced in their voice.

You couldn’t help but feel a tendril of fear in your chest as the logical side of you tried to sort through all the possibilities of why Nat’s number had called you, yet you were not speaking to Nat.

“Is this a scam caller?” you blurted. “I know they figured out how to make it look like one of your contacts is calling you, but I’m not interested in your multilevel marketing scheme tonight, okay, buddy? Try again with a geriatric and maybe you’ll catch your luck.”

You were about to hang up before the voice spoke again, loud but hushing in your ear. “Let’s see… The Texas Chainsaw Massacre? No, that’s Natasha’s. What about Frankenstein? No, you’re too young for that. That would be more of Steve’s liking, wouldn’t it?”

Your lips fell open as the voice piqued your concern again. This definitely was not a scam caller, because there was no way a random stranger would know not only your friends’ names, but also which movies they had picked for movie night the last two Fridays in a row.

“What about… The Conjuring?!” The person’s voice rose in excitement, blaring through the speaker of the phone. A hissing laugh flooded the line, and your heart was starting to noticeably pound in your chest.

“Sam?!” you confidently asked, despite the seeping fear in your chest. Sam would know what you all had watched together, and he would definitely be the one to prank call you using a voice modifier just to scare the shit out of you.

“Is Conjuring your favorite movie, y/n?”

Your body froze as your brain started to run out of possibilities as to who it could be. The sounds of Bluey and the neighbor’s cat started to drown out of your hearing, your hand on your bowl of cereal turning sweaty and hot.

“Why don’t you put the Lucky Charms down so we can have a proper conversation?”

A gasp struck out of your throat as you set the Lucky Charms down harshly on the table, a few marshmallows and some milk spilling out of the bowl and onto the table. Pushing your blanket off your body that was now growing hot, you turned around to look around your apartment. The kitchen was empty, and so was the bathroom that you could see into, and so was your bedroom whose door was open.

“Who are you?” you demanded shakily, whipping your head to the window where your blinds had broken and hadn’t been replaced, looking out at the fire escape and seeing no one there.

“Don’t turn your head too hard there, y/n. You’ve had a lot to drink tonight, haven’t you?” the sinister voice said over the phone, and now your entire body was starting to throb in fear.

“If this is a prank caller, you should know my friend is a hacker and she will find out who you are,” you said, jumping up to your feet and turning in circles around your apartment even though you still saw no one there.

“One… two… three… four…” The voice counted, and on the other end of the line you could hear the light clinking of metal. “Thirteen… fourteen… fifteen! Fifteen beer caps!”

Your eyes went wide and instinctively started to moisten as you realized that the sound of metal was the pile of beer caps that the three of you had built on Nat’s table.

“Oh, you said your friend is a hacker? Are you talking about Natasha? Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but Natasha won’t be helping you out with anything anytime soon—or ever.”

Could it be Natasha herself prank calling you? That would be extremely out of the blue for her, since she seemed so worried about you walking home and she knew you were feeling extra sensitive about everything that had happened in the last few months. There was no way she would do that. But it was Nat’s number calling you, and there was the sound of the beer caps in her apartment, and the words of the person telling you that Nat was in some way incapacitated permanently.

“I’m calling the cops!” you yelled, taking the phone away from your face and instantly ending the call. Your trembling fingers fumbled to go back to the call app and dial the local police station’s number, accidentally opening other apps. Before you could dial anything, Nat’s contact lit up your screen again. Frustrated, you denied it, but almost instantly it blocked your screen again.

Maybe it was all a joke and now Nat was calling you to tell you she was okay, you thought. You answered the call with a very frustrated, “Hello?”

“You hang up on me again and I will gut you like a fish!” the voice angrily hissed with such power and fury that it made your back straighten suddenly. The loudness of their voice overpowered the voice modifier, but even as their voice changed, you still couldn’t put a finger on if you recognized it or not.

You just closed your mouth, breathing hard as your forehead grew sweaty and feverish.

“Unless you want me to slice pretty little Nat’s throat right open, I suggest you sit still and comply.”

Relief washed over you as you took the caller’s words meaning that Nat was still okay. In the silence on the line, you could hear the sound of a car in the background. This person was driving.

“What do you want?” you asked, and now that you knew for sure they weren’t near you, you ran to your bedroom and opened the drawer of your nightstand as quietly as you could.

“I want you to tell me your favorite scary movie,” they lolled with bemusement.

Focused on getting the gun out of your drawer and bullets from a pack of ammo to load it, you didn’t say anything.

“Oh, c’mon. It’s a simple question. Everyone has a favorite scary movie.”

You realized that you didn’t hear the sound of a driving car in the background anymore, and they were getting impatient, so you blurted the first thing you could think of. “Saw.”

“Saw? With all that blood and gore?!”

“It’s a classic,” you breathed as you loaded the gun and then held it up, carefully walking back into the living room.

“You Americans always follow the sheep,” they said with a despicable laugh, and you could hear noises in the background.

“So… you’re not American?” you asked, trying to get more information about who was calling you. While you wanted to hang up and call the police, you knew they would just keep calling you back quicker than you could dial 911, and you thought you might as well try to figure out more.

They dodged your question completely. “What do you like so much about Bluey?”

Gasping, you turned towards your TV and pointed your gun at the animated characters on the screen. It was sickening, looking at the cute, childish show while you were holding a gun and being held hostage on the phone by a psychopath. You were starting to think they must be just a prank caller. Maybe they picked some random person, who happened to be you, and followed you to Nat’s apartment. They saw you were drinking and used their own beer caps to make you think they were in Nat’s apartment. Maybe they had seen you through the window eating Lucky Charms and watching Bluey. It had to be a prank.

“It’s… it’s cute,” you faintly answered, going to the window slowly, with your gun pointed at the glass.

The voice laughed again, singeing your nerves as you peered out of the window into the darkness, looking around as far as you could to make sure no one was there.

“Do you wanna hear a joke?”

Seeing that no one was anywhere near the window, you moved back across your living room.

“Sure,” you whispered.

“Knock… Knock.”

Your eyes instantly shifted to the front door which was right ahead of you. Did you even lock it? Were they mentioning the door because they were right outside?

Quickly, you jumped to the door and locked the handle and slammed the chain shut at the top of the door. Holding your breath, you brought your eye up close to the peephole, expecting to see some strange man standing outside your door. To your relief, there was no one there.

“W-Who’s there?” you whispered, keeping your eye at the peephole in case they jumped into sight.

You were met with the sound of the call being disconnected. Confused, you looked down at your phone, but the moment you did, you heard the piercing sound of glass shattering. Out of fright, you dropped your gun, and it slid out of reach under the kitchen table.

Shrieking, you turned around and saw that the window you were just standing at had been kicked through. In came a dark figure slinking through the broken window, heavy boots crunching the shards of broken glass on the floor as they stepped into the apartment. You froze. Their other foot came through, the trail of their black cloak slipping over the windowsill as they stepped fully inside your home. They stood, straightening themselves like a demonic shadow standing across the room from you.

What should have scared you the most was the large, shiny knife they held in their hand. But what really scared you was when they lifted their face to show a white ghost mask with darkness for eyes and a horribly, sickeningly twisted open mouth in the shape of a scream. From across the room, you saw the blood splattered across the mask, staining its otherwise spotless white surface. The black glove on their hand squeaked as they tightened their fist around the knife, the ghost mask tilting slowly to the side as they stared you down from behind the mask.

Your phone slipped out of your hands, and the sound of it crashing to the floor propelled you out of your frozen state. Unable to breathe, you grunted in fear as you turned and started to unlock your door so you could run away.

Heavy booted footsteps came thudding towards you as your sweaty fingers struggled to unlock the door, and you turned your head to see that they were coming right at you, raising the knife in the air which spread their black cloak out like wings of a black bird coming down to snatch their prey. You shrieked and jumped to the side right as their arm came down, hearing their large knife stick right into the wood of the door.

Stumbling like an idiot, you sprinted to the only other exit in sight—the broken window they had just come through. You had a little time as they were pulling their knife out of the door, but right as you got to the window, they were running towards you again.

The fear and adrenaline pumping through your blood was making you dizzy. You let out another undignified squeal of terror as you moved away from the window and jumped between the couch and the TV.

The masked killer which you had read about in the article stopped when they saw you moving directions, now standing on the other side of the couch from you. You jumped to the right, but they moved with you.

“Stop!” you screamed, moving to the left only to have them move at the same time as you, still holding up the shiny knife that glinted under the light of your apartment.

You were cornered. There was nowhere to go now. You just stood there, your knees shaking, crouched, just waiting for them to make their move.

In a sudden swoop, they leaped over the couch and lunged at you. You screamed, jumping away just in time for their knife to slice across your upper arm in a non-fatal catch. The person fell right into the TV, the screen on which Bluey still played turning into glitches as they knocked it right off the wall in a loud crash.

Sprinting to your bedroom, you slammed the door shut and locked it, lunging towards the window by your bed. You could hear them fumbling to get up in the other room.

You had this window glued shut several years before out of fear for your own safety. You lived in a dangerous city. There was a fire escape right outside your window. It was only common sense to have glued it shut so that no one would sneak into the window right beside where you lay sleeping in bed.

The cut on your arm was already gushing, bright red lines of blood flooding down your arm and trickling into your palm, making your grip on the window slippery. The cut hurt, and as you tugged upwards on the window, it hurt even more, but you were desperate. People could lift cars out of their own adrenaline, surely you could snap the barrier of super glue standing between you and your last effort to escape.

The doorknob to your bedroom aggressively throttled. You could hear them shoving their shoulder against the locked door, and you started to sob as you tried harder to open your window, feeling like there was a timer right over your head counting down to your own death. It was a manic state you were in, pulling at the window as your arm covered itself in your own blood and the person started using their boot to heavily kick down the door.

“Come on!” you cried, your bloody hand slipping off the window.

With another powerful kick to the door, it came right off the hinges, slamming into the adjacent wall as the cloaked, masked person started storming towards you.

There was nothing left to do. You tugged at the window again, not even bothering to watch them come towards you. If you were going to be murdered, you didn’t want to see them as they did it.

Instead of a knife, you felt two gloved hands grab you by your sides and lift you, throwing you onto your bed. You lost your breath as your back hit the mattress with force, and you watched as the person climbed over you. You were at least going to give them a fight.

Raising your legs, you tried to kick them away, but they grabbed hold of your ankles as they climbed between your thighs, using a great deal of strength to keep your legs still. You even heard them grunt in frustration, and the sound of them struggling to hold you down gave you a boost of confidence to jump up and punch them right in the mask. The person took one hand away from your leg to cover the mouth part of the mask, and you used the opportunity to kick them in the chest. To your surprise, they hardly faltered. The mask faced you again, and something in you twisted. The mask did not change its expression, but you knew now they were very, very angry.

They snatched your free leg and climbed further over you, leaning down and snapping their knifeless hand over your throat, squeezing hard. You watched as they raised the knife above your head. You choked and grabbed at their hand, using your legs to try and kick at them again, but they were kneeling between them, so all you could do was dig your heels into their hips which didn’t have any effect.

Their hand squeezed your throat hard, the leather of their gloves digging into your skin. Losing air, you grabbed at their iron grip on your throat, staring up at the horrifying ghost face above you and their knife positioned to strike.

If they were going to kill you, your dying wish was to see who this serial killer was. They were breathing hard, loudly, distracted by the passion of their pending kill, so you flew your hands to their face and ripped the mask off.

A head of red hair came spilling out of the mask as you tugged it off, and you were met with wide green eyes. If you weren’t already being choked, you would have lost your breath at the sight of Wanda above you.

“W-Wanda?” you choked, your face going bright red as your vision blurred. Your eyes shifted between the mask in your hand and her face—it was her the whole time.

Her lips snarled, showing her canines at you. Her pupils were wide and frenzied, a pink flush in her face and a shine on her forehead whether from the efforts of trying to catch you or from excitement of finally catching you. Her lip was busted from when you had punched her over the mask, a little blood bubbling into her mouth and spreading across her teeth.

She looked at you for a moment, her face hardening, and she released her hand from your neck right before you were about to pass out. You desperately sucked in air, coughing and choking as your lungs filled with oxygen.

“So I did get you,” she said, her eyes moving to your bloody arm. Her tongue ran over her lower lip as she reached down and ran her gloved hand over the cut, smearing more blood across your skin. Fear twisted inside you as you watched her pink lips turn into a demonic smile.

“Wanda,” you whispered, breathing heavily as you saw her more clearly now. “What have you done?”

Was she the same ghostfaced serial killer who had been killing people in the city? Is this where she has been for these two months, breaking into people’s homes and stabbing them to death?

“It didn’t take long for Natasha to swoop in, did it?” she asked, and you realized then that when the voice modifier glitched over the phone, it had been her voice you heard. It’d been so long since you heard it that you hadn’t even recognized it, but you knew now.

“What?” you breathed, eyes flickering to the knife still in her hands.

“I’ve been gone for two months, and she already has you in her grip,” she spat, her lips curling in anger.

“Where did you go?” you blurted. “Why did you disappear?”

A smile stretched at her mouth. “I needed some time adjust my… perspective.” She enunciated the word slowly and sharply as she brought the knife to your bruised throat.

You gasped and flinched when you felt the cold metal lay flat across your skin and then turn so that the point pushed against your flesh, threatening to rip it.

“I used to be so selfless. I avoided you for Vision’s sake, so as to not hurt his precious feelings.” She started dragging the point of the knife down the column of your throat, her breath hissing between her teeth in excitement. “But Nat was still there after he died, so I left. I couldn’t be around if I couldn’t have you still.”

You watched her in terror as she spoke, her wide pupils focused on the way the knife moved across your skin, pressing in but not cutting.

“I sat back and watched. I watched you see her nearly every day. I watched you go to her house for those stupid little movie nights. I watched you sit at home and talk to her on the phone. God, how could you stand listening to her voice that much?”

“Nat was there for me when you weren’t,” you spat, forgetting that she had a knife to the most vulnerable part of your body.

Her eyes shot up at you again, seized with anger. She dragged the knife down to the collar of your shirt as her other hand grabbed a fistful of the fabric, and she started cutting it right off your body. You were reminded that Wanda was not herself now, that she had spent the last two months going insane. You were not safe.

You gasped as Wanda cut right down the fabric of your shirt so easily that it made you realize just how sharp her knife was. She pulled the fabric off your body and threw it down, leaving your upper body entirely naked. She looked down at your chest and seethed.

“You’ve always been so perfect,” she whispered, using her knife to draw a gentle line down your sternum. “I love watching you through the cameras but seeing you in real life is so… fucking… hot.”

She got a little ahead of herself as she dragged the knife down between your breasts, her hand jerking and cutting the skin on the inside of your breast. You shrieked and jumped, feeling tears well up in your eyes and spill down your hot face.

“C-Cameras?” you stuttered, your chest heaving as you breathed through the pain.

Wanda looked up ahead of you, and you tilted your head up to follow her eyes. How could you be so unobservant? In the top corner of your room was a little black circle with a lens, and as your eyes shifted, you saw that every single corner of the room had a little black lens.

“And in every other corner of your apartment, sweet cheeks, as well as Natasha’s.” She laughed at the terror on your face as you realized that you had been watched for weeks on end without even knowing.

Her eyes fell down to your chest where the cut on your breast was bleeding now, gravity tugging a drop of the blood down the center of your stomach. She let out a shuddering, primal growl as she leaned down and brought her lips to the cut.

Your body stiffened as you felt her lips, so close to a sensitive part of your body, kissing the deep cut that started to bleed more. She kissed it again and then ran her tongue over it, moaning at the taste of your blood. It made your face go hot and red as Wanda’s hair tickled your arms, her tongue moving upwards until it swirled around your nipple.

You squealed, thinking about asking her to stop but knowing it was no use, anyway. It scared you the way your body reacted to her, your nipple hardening in her warm mouth as she sucked on it.

She let it go with a pop, coming back up to reveal that her lips and chin were smeared with your blood. You glanced down to see that the breast she had paid attention to had smudges of blood all over it.

“Wanda, please,” you begged. “I’m sorry for whatever you think I did. I didn’t mean to hurt you or—”

A sudden slap to your face stopped you from where you spoke. Your head whipped to the side with the force of the slap, and through the stinging pain of the leathered force you also felt a sharp pain—she had been holding the knife. Warm blood trinkled down your sliced cheek as your flooding tears mixed with it.

“Don’t be so sad, detka,” she purred, taking your chin with hypocritical gentleness and turning your face to look back at her. “You can’t help it you’re a needy slut. I mean, just look at what’s happening. Here I am, cutting you up, and your little pussy is already so wet, isn’t it?”

She rolled her hips forward suddenly, and you felt a hard bulge under the cloak press against your core. The friction made your body shiver, and it was then you realized the wetness between your legs. Wanda grinned widely down at you, looking like a predator with her pearly smile covered in blood.

“Besides, it’s Natasha who stole you from me, and I don’t have to worry about her anymore.”

She looked down at your shorts and started to tug them off, but your eyes widened at her words. “Nat? What did you do to her?!”

“Shhhh…” she shushed you as she peeled your shorts and panties to the floor, leaving you completely naked under her. “Don’t worry, detka. I always clean my knife between kills.” She smirked at you and sat up, kneeling between your open legs.

Your mind raced at thoughts of Natasha—was she dead? Was it your fault? Was Wanda going to kill you, too?

You jumped when you felt the knife dragging across your inner thigh, slicing open your skin that bubbled with more blood. Wanda groaned at the sight, and you felt a mix of relief and fear when she set her knife down on the bed near her hand, far enough out of your reach.

“Just look at you, detka,” she purred as she smeared the blood around on your thigh, the pain vibrating through you. The terror of bloody craze on her face struck a chord inside you that made you both scared and thrilled. “All bloody for me—and so fucking wet.” She moved her eyes to your pussy, using her finger to spread your lips open. Your cheeks burned when you heard the wet sound of your folds moving.

Wanda reached down and grabbed at her crotch, grinning as she leaned back down to you and started kissing the bloody side of your face. “I’ve been waiting so long for you,” she whispered right into your ear, making your skin hot. When her tongue licked up the blood on the side your face, you cringed and whined. She moved her kisses to your neck, biting you with force as she started to grind her hips against you, getting excited.

Your core was throbbing hard as her bulge moved right against you, your knees bending up around her and threatening to spread wider for her. She was putting you under a bloodied haze, and your body was yielding to her. It made you cry harder, but your hand met her shoulder and begged her closer against you.

“Fuck,” she groaned, grinding harder against you. She was breathing heavier now, and when she leaned up to look at you again, there was even more blood on her face. “I want you to watch me fuck you.” She reached down between her legs, and chills ran up your spine as your body tensed in preparation. “I want you to look me in the eyes as I fuck your pussy the way it should be fucked—because it’s mine and you’re mine, and there’s just nothing you can do about that, can you, pretty little doll?”

Your hands grabbed desperately at her arms, words leaving you as your body grew hotter and hotter with desire. She shifted the fabric of her cloak, and pressed herself down against you, her hand still reaching down.

“My pretty little doll,” she breathed as she stared down at you. Suddenly, you felt the tip of something large pressing into you, and suddenly her strap was sliding all the way inside you. You groaned as your walls stretched around her girth, hands grabbing a fistful of her cloak as she buried her cock deep inside you. Wanda only laughed at the look of pain on your face, snapping her hips so that the entirety of her length pushed into you.

“Wanda,” you begged—begged for her to stop, for her to continue, for her to kiss you, for her to let you go—you didn’t know what for.

“Just as tight as I thought you’d be,” Wanda groaned, her eyes rolling back as she started to move her hips. You laid under her, legs spread, bloodied and cut up, letting her fuck you right there on her own bed.

“Too big,” you whined when she started moving faster, her strap bulging tightly inside your pussy. She only laughed again.

“Take my cock, detka. Or would you rather take my knife?” She grabbed the knife again and pushed it right against your throat, causing you to screech in fear. “I would like to leave as many cuts on your pretty body as I can, but I think you might not want me to cut right here, would you?”

You wanted to shake your head but quickly decided against it with how hard the knife was pressed to your throat, so you gave a pathetic, “No.”

“Good,” she growled, her free hand grabbing your hip to keep you still as she started fucking you harder. Grunts of pain left your lips and grunts of pleasure left hers as she drove herself inside you over and over again, thrusting her hips upwards to meet that sweet spot inside you just to drive you a little crazier and make your body betray your mind even more.

It was working. The pain faded and pleasure filled in all the cracks as she fucked you. She was groaning like a wild animal, and the sight of your blood on her face made you even more sickeningly turned on.

Keeping the knife on your throat, steadied with her elbow digging into your collarbone, she slipped her hand down between you and started rubbing your clit with her gloved fingers. The leather was painful at first, but as she massaged your clit just right, it started to propel your pleasure.

Disgusting sounds filled your ears. The squeaking of the bed under her forceful thrusts, the wet squelching of your pussy as she filled it with her cock, the sound of her grunting, and the vibrations of your own moans in your throat that you tried your hardest to keep silent.

Wanda took notice of this and pushed the knife harder on your neck. “Go ahead and let it out, baby. I’ve always wanted to hear you scream.”

It came tumbling out of you as you moaned for Wanda, and it encouraged her to fuck you even harder. The blood from the cut on your inner thigh was mixing with your own juices, causing a symphony of wetness and squelching from between your legs as she defiled you.

Pressure built in your lower tummy that bulged from her large strap filling you up. “That’s it. Cum on my cock, detka. Give yourself to me.”

Wanda was close to cumming herself, and it was evident in the way her hips thrust wildly and without rhythm, her eyes struggling to stay open.

“Wanda,” you moaned, grabbing at her as your orgasm started to crash over you. You couldn’t help but scream as your insides quivered around her, her strap still hitting all the right places inside you as you helplessly came.

Wanda grunted and opened her mouth, quickly reaching down and squeezing the base of the strap as she came. In the middle of your climax, you felt her faux cum spill inside you all at once, pumping you full until you could feel it in your lower tummy.

You were blinded by many things—from the shattering orgasm Wanda had just given you, from the blood loss you were enduring, from the fear and terror of the situation. By the time you came down from your high and could see again, Wanda was looking at your throat. In the heat of the moment, she had accidentally cut it just a little—not enough to really hurt you, but enough to make her go even crazier at the mere thought.

You were shaking and panting as Wanda smirked in victory and in malevolence. She looked over to the ghostface mask beside you and picked it up, pulling it on back over her head. She leaned down closer to you, the black eyes of the mask boring into your own as her head tilted.

“Let’s do another round, yeah? This time with the mask on.”

[gothic-thoughts]

The Wholesome Masterlist

Updates Weekly

All Black Reader(dur), either Fem of Gender Neutral

All Fluff -- All Angst -- All Drabble

Sorted by Fandom in Alphabetical Order

Here's the Smut Masterlist

Attack On Titan

Smart Choices-- Levi Ackerman Fem Angst

A Different Option-- Mikasa Ackerman Fem Fluff

C.O.D.

Safer With A Stranger-- Soap Mactavish Fem Angst

(Un)Trustworthy-- König Fem Angst

So Damn Into You-- König Fem Fluff

Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy-- König Fem Fluff/Angst

Wrath-- Ghost Riley GN Angst

All Dreams Have Meaning-- Soap MacTavish x Fem Fluff

Joined At The Hip (Part 1)-- König x Fem Angst

Demon Slayer

Lost and Found-- Kyojurou Rengoku Fem Angst/Fluff

His Favorite Rival-- Tengen Uzui GN Fluff

Genshin Impact

House Of Memories-- Diluc Ragnvindr Fem Angst

Whole Lotta Lost-- Kaeya Alberich Fem Fluff

JJBA

Just Five Seconds Of Focus-- Joseph Joestar Fem Fluff

Second Chances-- Dio Brando Fem Fluff

High Baby Fever-- Dio Brando Fem Angst

Too Selfless-- Stardust Crusaders GN Angst

Aftermath-- Dio Brando Fem Angst

Be Still-- Narcisco Anastasia GN Fluff

Quarto De Hotel-- Dio Brando Fem Fluff

Ghosts-- Josuke Higashigata GN Fluff

JJK

A Kiss Before I Go (remaster)-- Satoru Gojo Fem Angst

A Kiss Before I Go-- Satoru Gojo Male Angst

King Of Almost Everything-- Sukuna Ryomen Fem Drabble

Area Codes-- JJK x Reader GN Headcannons

Slow on the Internet-- Yuuji Itadori Fem Fluff

Who Is She?-- Geto Suguru GN Fluff

Come To Fruition-- Sukuna Ryomen GN Angst

Late-- Nanami Kento Fem Drabble

Date Night-- Nanami Kento Fem Fluff

Not Listening-- Toge Inumaki Fem Angst

Different I Love You-- Gojo Satoru Fem Fluff

Bombing-- Sukuna Ryomen Fem Angst

Marvel

Oddly Intriguing-- Bucky Barnes GN Drabble

A Favor-- Steve Rogers Fem Angst

My Hero Academia (there's only like 2 and I don't really plan on writing more 😭)

New Kid-- Dabi Fem Fluff

Formal Introduction-- Shota Aizawa GN Fluff

One Piece

Reimburse-- Roronoa Zoro GN Drabble

No One Left Behind-- Roronoa Zoro Fem Angst

No One Left Behind? (Part 2)-- Roronoa Zoro Fem Fluff

Keep Our Mouths Busy-- Sanji Vinsmoke Fem Angst

Slashers

Scariest Promotion Ever (Part 1)-- Michael Myers Fem Fluff

Getting Through To You (Part 2)-- Michael Myers Fem Fluff

His Favorite Nurse (Part 3)-- Michael Myers Fem Angst

Pinky Promise-- Ghostface Fem Drabble