#its a scream🔪

[belascrypt]

gods saddest, craziest, and silliest lil meow meow [will graham, hannibal (2013)]

first art post on here !! if any of yall like this, pls lemme know !

[forecast0ctopus]

it’s a scream, baby!

[woodsborostabathon]

i ain’t never seen a normal pair of twins in a horror movie. it’s always one of them gotta act like their sibling’s jealous significant other and/or ex.

[lunaoritur]

Luna ( and everyone else in the mafia, including Sam, but I'm gonna focus on Luna here, ) is microchipped -- by not by humans. She has several microchips in her body, namely the back of her neck, all down her spine, in her arms, and in her legs. They aren't trackers, they're used to regulate her behavior and control her.

Boss injected these chips into everyone who was in the mafia -- it was claimed they were " a part of training, " but in reality, it was Boss' fucked up way of keeping control over the group.

Only a few triggers can set them off, including a certain name, if Luna or someone else is attempting to learn/give out information about Boss, if Luna tries to defy/refuse an order, and from a remote that only Boss has access to.

When activated, the chips send electric shock throughout Luna's body, inducing seizures, irregular heartbeat, the typical stuff that comes with being shocked. It's not enough to kill her, but it's gotten pretty close.

[hiseternalmayfly]

Knives' descent into panic and fear in the last episode of tristamp is hard to watch but the faces he makes during it are so good...sorry for laughing at ur fear my love

[starrykinstellation]

ICE NINE KILLS RELASED 9-BIT VERSIONS OF ALL OF THE SONGS FROM THE SILVER SCREAM AND WELCOME TO HORRORWOOD AND I ACTUALLY CANT THEY FUCK SO HARD IM SCREAMING THIS IS SO COOL I ACTUALLY. CANNOT. I CWNT. THIE IS THR BEST THING THWT HWD EVER HAPPENED TO ME EVER I CANNOY

[starboundsingularities]

good lird they did not make a gimmick blog about a real life murder

#someone fucking DIED but whatever who gives a shit it's funny i guess

7 notes

🥚 eggvidenced Follow

honestly with how suspicious and confusing everything on the dl-6 case was i wouldn't be surprised if it came out that it was that prosecutor guy tbh

🌟 rockliker270 Follow

date posted: june 23, 2010

1,834,853 notes

⚖️ courtofpublicopinions Follow

🌟 rockliker270 Follow

ok hear me out. what abt winston payne though

🧊 just--ice Follow

okay now they're just making lawyers up

#also didn't mvk die or something?

28,932 notes

🔥 triedbyfire Follow

why the fuck are you people still posting about the gavinners as if theyre not copaganda. didn't the guitarist get convicted of murder

🎸 guiltiest-lovers837 Follow

so fucking tired of this "um um didn't daryan get convicted of murder" YEAH AND HE'S LITERALLY NOT IN THE FUCKING BAND ANYMORE. dipshit

🔥 triedbyfire Follow

are you gonna address the copaganda thing or

1,092 notes

🌻 attorneybout Follow

he's so. 😳

📂 trialanderror Follow

why is he defending

📂 trialanderror Follow

OP WHY IS HE DEFENDING???

24,374 notes

🦈 giantlakemonsters Follow

i just wanna hear about another gourdy sighting thats all

🥜 liberdeez Follow

op. i'm so sorry op. gourdy isn't real you have to let her go. they had a whole trial about it.

🔐 wrightorwrong Follow

hi!! so this isn't actually the case as while gourdy was briefly mentioned in a trial, said trial had nothing to do with whether or not gourdy was "real" per se as much as. well. murder, actually. while gourdy WAS found out to be an inflatable steel samurai this was not brought up in the case at all as the veracity of gourdy wasn't really as relevant as the fact that the witness was looking for gourdy rather than at the murder she claimed to have seen. plus this was also a relatively small part of a MUCH larger trial which for those interested not only solved the dl-6 case but ALSO marked the end of prosecutor von karma's ~40 year long record and the court records are really a fascinating read through!!

🦀 mad_libz_87 Follow

net 0 information post

#thanks again lawblr

94,834 notes

🍒 cherriescoola Follow

btw i was at the park the other day and klavier gavin (of gavinners fame) was there and obv there was a huge crowd but this guy was there with him and at some point he (the other guy) waved to the crowd and someone still screamed like it was klavier??? who was that guy ive never seen him before in my life

2,284 notes

🩸 has-dl6-been-solved-yet Follow

December 28, 2016

YES!!!

702,947 notes

🪙 tellerlikeitis Follow

guys help i'm a bank teller and this guy just introduced himself as robin banks what do i do

🔪 violencekilling Follow

you gotta let him rob you that's the law

302,948 notes

👻 ghostesswiththemostest Follow

look if i ever get convicted of murder im just hiring the lawyer with the coolest sounding name

💼 courtofwaw Follow

bestie if you already got convicted it is Too Late

62,193 notes

📋 lawandwhoreder Follow

guys i know it's real fun to think people just can predict whatever but if you look at the earliest reblogs of that post that "guessed" the true killer in the dl-6 case it was actually a post about how they didn't want to go to the store. clearly edited

#stg nobody bothers to factcheck anything anymore

7,293 notes

🐺 lawnewolf Follow

i am NOT homophobic or whatever the fuck you guys are saying now i just think its weird to write fanfiction about realass people?? go touch grass ffs

🌈 lawsbian Follow

the fun police (this guy) putting me in yaoi court but the lawyers (phoenix witrght and miles edgeworth) just keep trying to make out (real court is like this too btw)

🐺 lawnewolf Follow

YOU HAVE SOMETHING WRONG WITH YOU.

#look idc what your enemies to lovers fic bullshit says #they're straight. and more importantly REAL PEOPLE. #there's TENSION because they are in COURT and there are LIVES on the LINE. #not because they wanna fuck. god.

12,293 notes

🔮 inhighspirits Follow

why dont they just ask the spirit mediums to ask the victims who killed them this law shit is easy

837,495 notes

💞 lawveyourself Follow

seriously i cant believe they gave this guy a law degree

💞 lawveyourself Follow

what do you mean evidence fraud

503,893 notes

🎧 instrumentalillness Follow

fuck you *unguilties your love*

384,568 notes

🎀 copiicat Follow

perjury isnt illegal btw in fact if youre one of tge witnesses youre legally required to lie on the stand. thats why everyone does it. trust me

[witchywithwhiskey]

🔪 Slasher 🔪 Choose Your Own Ending

pairing: DARK horror movie villain!bucky barnes x female reader

summary: somehow, you end up in your favorite old horror movie, and you decide to take the opportunity to fulfill one of your fantasies—you're gonna fuck the villain, bucky barnes.

warnings: 18+ content (minors do not interact!!!), dark themes and elements, typical horror movie violence (blood, murder, some gruesome descriptions), smut, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, creampie, unsafe sadist/masochist dynamic (reader is into it but there are no safe words), dry humping, knife kink, size kink, chase kink, oral sex (m receiving), rough sex, rough body play, light spanking, choking, breath play, bratting/brat taming (reader is slightly unhinged), dirty talk, degradation kink, praise kink, boot riding, dacryphilia, pet names (cottontail, baby), reader passes out during sex, possessive behavior

word count: 13.3k total (11.6k with only the dark ending; 11.9k with only the fluffy ending)

a/n: i really didn't know if i'd be able to finish this fic in time for the end of my Slasher Summer challenge because it's probably one of the most ambitious fics i've ever attempted. it's loosely inspired by the movie The Final Girls (highly recommend) but i couldn't decide how i wanted it to end, so y'all get TWO ENDINGS!! both are included here, with additional warnings down below. i worked really hard on this, so i really hope y'all enjoy!!! 😅

The last thing you remembered was the feel of fuzzy static on your tongue, fizzling through your arms and legs and making you feel like every nerve ending in your body was buzzing to life. You had a vague memory of licking something you probably shouldn’t have, but then your ears popped and you felt solid ground beneath your feet.

Staticky silence was suddenly replaced by shrill screams of excitement and the mechanical whirring of carnival rides. The rich scents of funnel cakes and popcorn and cotton candy filled your nose, making your mouth water with the desire to eat your weight in fried food.

Blinking your eyes open—not remembering when you’d closed them—you were met with the entrance to the Bakersfield Fun Fair. The big banner declaring the name of the carnival sparked a hazy recognition deep in your mind, but when you looked around, you didn’t quite recognize where you were, and you had no memory of how you’d gotten there. 

Still, something about the fairground, with its ticket booth and carnival rides and all kinds of stalls selling food or touting games to play for prizes, felt familiar. Like you’d seen it in a dream, or when you were a child the memory was a distant thing. 

Muggy summer air brushed against your skin with a soft breeze that helped to alleviate the worst of the heat, the air holding a hint of chill as the sun set on the distant horizon. It cast everything you could see, which was mainly just the carnival and the grassy field being used for a parking lot, in a golden glow. 

Finally, it occurred to you to look down at yourself, finding that you were wearing cutoff jean shorts and a plain tank top—neither of which you recognized. 

The confusion you’d held at bay suddenly overwhelmed you, making you feel as dizzy as if you’d just ridden the tilt-a-whirl, which you somehow knew was nestled somewhere in the fairgrounds. Your stomach lurched as your mind tried to make sense of where you were and how you’d gotten there. You closed your eyes and tried to think. 

As you concentrated, memories began to surface in your mind, like you were dragging them up from the depths of a deep, murky lake. 

It wasn’t summer. It was fall, you remembered, and just moments before you’d been curled up on the worn, aged rug in your grandmother’s basement. You were housesitting for her while she was on a cruise. 

You remembered closing your laptop, heaving a huge sigh of relief at finishing work for the day, then going down into the basement. You’d spent countless hours there as a teenager watching movies on the big, boxy TV set, the kind where you could feel the static if you put your hand against the screen. Your favorite movies to watch were the horror ones…

That was it! 

That was why Bakersfield and the carnival seemed so familiar. Bakersfield was the small town terrorized by the ruthless villain in your favorite horror movie, Slasher, and the final act’s killing spree took place at the town’s annual end of summer carnival. The Bakersfield Fun Fair.

And the villain was Bucky Barnes, a psychotic killer with a sadistic sense of humor and piercing blue eyes. 

You’d had a crush on him when you’d first watched Slasher as a teenager, and your attraction to him remained even well into your adult years. You’d decided to put the movie on because you’d been lonely at your grandmother’s, figuring a night with your favorite horror movie slasher would be the closest thing to a date you could get.

Once you remembered that, the rest of it came back to you. You’d been curled up on the rug in front of the TV, and your favorite scene had come on. It was the one where Bucky is cleaning a bullet wound in his shoulder—given to him by the movie’s mean girl, right before he brutally stabs her in the head—and he had his shirt off, showing the broad expanse of his muscled chest.

It hadn’t been your finest moment, but you were lonely and you got it into your head to lick the screen of the TV over Bucky’s bare chest. And then, that was it. That was all you remembered—and the feeling of static on your tongue.

Opening your eyes, you looked up at the banner again. You blinked. And blinked again. Then you pinched yourself. You didn’t wake up. 

The sign still read Bakersfield Fun Fair. But…that was impossible.

Your jaw went slack as you looked around—really looked at your surroundings.

In the time that you’d spent figuring out where you were, the sun had dipped behind the tops of the trees in the forest beyond the fairground, turning the sky pink and orange, fading into a deep cerulean. There was a ferris wheel in the distance, and the canopy top of a carousel off to the side. 

There were lines of stalls stretching in both directions beyond the entrance to the fair, some with ring toss games and others with milk bottles to be knocked over. Other stalls were selling all kinds of junk food, from cotton candy to candy apples. 

Everything looked and sounded and smelled real. You could practically taste the funnel cake on your tongue, and feel the powered sugar-covered fried dough melting in your mouth. You could clearly see the faces of all the people milling around the fair, kids breaking off with hands clasped tight around their tickets as they went running down the various rows of stalls. 

And the closer you looked, the more realized everything was dated. The clothes, the rides, the toy prizes. Everything looked like it was from the early 90s, when Slasher was made. Even your own clothes and the tennis shoes on your feet looked like they were out of the 90s. 

It was bizarre, and yet, it didn’t feel like a dream. But it had to be a dream. Right?

Spinning around in a circle, you decided that had to be the case. It was the only thing that made sense. It’s not like you could’ve been transported into the world of your favorite horror movie. Stuff like that didn’t happen; it broke all rules of physics and other science stuff you didn’t understand.

Deciding to just roll with it and enjoy your dream, you shrugged off your confusion and headed into the Bakersfield Fun Fair. While you meandered down one of the lines of stalls, you wondered if you’d see any of the characters from the movie. You wondered if you’d see Bucky. 

You almost tripped over the grass beneath your feet at the thought, your heart speeding up in your chest and beating excitedly against your rib cage as you considered the possibility of actually meeting your biggest horror movie crush. 

But your mind didn’t stop there. Oh no. You were the girl who’d decided to lick an old, staticky TV because it was the closest you thought you’d ever get to licking Bucky’s bare chest. 

Naturally, your mind took the thought of meeting him much further and you thought about fulfilling one of your most cherished fantasies. If you were in the world of Slasher, you wanted to fuck Bucky Barnes. 

Before you’d ended up at the Bakersfield Fun Fair, in some ultra-realistic dream, the closest you could’ve gotten was finding a guy who looked like Bucky Barnes and try to convince him to wear the Slasher mask while chasing you through the woods. 

But you’d found yourself in the world of your favorite horror movie—whether by way of your subconscious dreaming about it, or some breakdown of the space-time continuum—and you had the chance to fuck the actual Bucky Barnes. Giddy excitement flooded through you, and you began skipping down the line of carnival stalls, trying to remember what exactly happens in the final act of Slasher.

It probably should’ve worried you how unconcerned you were with the possibility that Bucky could kill you before you even got started trying to convince him to fuck you. But it was your dream, so what was the worst that could happen? If he killed you, you’d just wake up horny and dissatisfied, right? Then, you’d have to take care of yourself, which wasn’t any different to any other day of your life.

Nah, you were almost entirely certain you were in a dream, and because it was your dream, you wouldn’t have too much trouble getting Bucky to fuck you. You just had to find him…

As if right on cue, screams erupted from the opposite end of the fairground, and it sparked your memory. The action at the end of Slasher ramps up when Bucky storms the Bakersfield Fun Fair and the final girl, along with the remainder of her friends, try to set a trap for him. 

Trying to hid your giddy grin, you raced through the fairground, heading in the direction of the screams. Since you’d remembered the beginning of the end of the movie, you couldn’t help but think about what else happens. Bucky carves through the final girl’s friends one by one in various, gruesome ways on the carnival rides at the fair. Then, the final girl eventually traps him by crushing his arm in the gears of the carousel. 

Bucky doesn’t die, of course. He comes back in the sequel, Slasher II, and sports a metal arm that glimmers in the moonlight while he stalks the final girl around Bakersfield all over again. It’s not nearly as good as the first movie, but Bucky is still very hot, and you watched the sequel nearly as many times as the original when you were a teenager.

You were so distracted by thoughts of Bucky’s prosthetic arm, and what it would feel like to have his metal hand wrapped around your throat while he fucked you, that you didn’t realize you were suddenly alone in the fairground, and you’d made it to the Tunnel of Love ride. 

It was then that you spotted the macabre scene of the final girl’s best friend—you couldn’t remember the character’s name, it was something boring like John—with his heart ripped out of his chest and held in his limp, dead hands. His lifeless eyes stared unseeingly ahead, looking almost like a movie prop, but so, so much more real.

This particular kill was one of Slasher’s most controversial, you remembered. Half the cult fandom argued it was too on the nose, since the movie heavily implied John was in love with the movie’s final girl and never found the courage to tell her. The other half of the fandom enjoyed the tragic romance of it. 

Personally, you didn’t care much about the kills or the drama between the final girl and the other characters. You really only watched Slasher for Bucky, and only cared about the creativity of the murders when he looked particularly hot doing them. 

Your mind whirled as you stared at John’s dead body, your brain focusing on the Slasher message boards you’d trawled well into your college years, rather than trying to make sense of the horrible sight in front of you. It really, really looked like real blood soaking his clothes—and you could even smell the coppery tang of it in the air.

Instinctively, you took a step back, the grass of the fairground soft beneath your feet. The sun had slipped fully behind the trees of the forest beyond the fairground, casting long, ominous shadows over the scene. Your heart beat harder in your chest, and you took another step back, as if putting room between you and the horrific sight in front of you would somehow make it easier to reconcile.

You took one more step backward and bumped into something solid, something that you knew deep in your bones shouldn’t be there.

The smell of blood was stronger suddenly, mixing with an earthy, spicy scent that didn’t make sense for the carnival fairground. Holding your breath, you slowly looked over your shoulder and were met with the sight of a black leather-clad chest. 

Already, you knew it was him. But you dragged your eyes up and sucked in a gasp when you met the piercing blue gaze of Bucky Barnes.

His eyes were filled with a cold hatred that was so visceral, it made your stomach twist in a way that was not entirely unpleasant. Inexplicably, warmth bloomed low in your core, unfurling and reacting to the villain’s presence. Finally, you were face to face with your biggest horror movie crush, and you couldn’t help but take a moment to take all of him in.

Bucky Barnes was even bigger and more intimidating than he seemed on your TV screen, and he was more handsome too. His eyes were an electric blue, the color so bright, it seemed like it glowed from within. And his chin-length brown hair fell on either side of his face, highlighting the strong line of his brow and the intensity of his gaze.

The villain’s mouth and nose were covered by the hard plastic mask that matched the utilitarian leather jacket and combat pants he wore with thick, heavy boots. There were straps on the leather jacket that spanned his broad shoulders, and a utility belt around his trim waist where he secured the various knives and weapons he used throughout the movie.

Looking up at his face again, you realized Bucky was so much taller than you expected, standing behind you like a mountain of cold hatred, radiating danger and menace. Unfortunately for you, that only made the heat simmering in your belly burn hotter until you were squeezing your thighs together against the ache building there. 

You knew your body’s reaction to the psychotic murderer was foolish, to say the least, but there was something about the dangerous man that made your heart beat harder, and made you want to spread your legs for him. 

Glancing down to Bucky’s hand, you saw the big butcher’s knife dangling from his fingers. He hadn’t raised it yet, and when you looked back into his eyes, the villain seemed to be watching you closely, as if wondering how you were going to react to him. 

The longer you went without screaming or running away from him, the more his brows lowered over his eyes. He began to look perplexed.

That was fine, you could work with perplexed.

Carefully, as if dealing with an animal you didn’t want to spook, you turned around and set your hands gently on Bucky’s massive chest, your fingertips toying idly with the leather straps on his jacket. Holding his gaze with your own, you slid your hands up to his shoulders and pushed yourself up onto you tiptoes so you could twine your arms around his neck, as if he were your boyfriend and you were welcoming him home.

“Hi,” you murmured, your voice coming out breathy as your heart beat wildly in your chest. You fluttered your lashes at Bucky, figuring that if you didn’t treat him like a threat, he wouldn’t be. And so far, it was working.

The horror villain didn’t seem inclined to respond to your shy greeting, so you pressed yourself close to him, enjoying the feel of his hard body against your soft one. Arching your spine, you pushed your tits up in your tank top, as if offering them to him. 

You were gratified when Bucky’s gaze dropped to your lightly heaving chest, and felt his empty hand twitch against your bare thigh, like he wanted to touch you but was holding himself back. Not that you needed him to touch you to know he was enjoying the feel of you against him.

Bucky’s bulge was already digging into your lower stomach, and you suspected he’d already been hard before you’d pressed against him. But still, you were gratified when, every time you shifted against him, he twitched in his pants, his cock eagerly responding to you. 

The interest of Bucky’s cock had a smile spreading across your face, making you look like the cat who got the cream as you tipped your head back and grinned shamelessly up at the horror movie villain.

“Is that a knife in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?” you purred, rocking your body against Bucky’s bulge and pressing your chest more tightly to his leather jacket. You were practically rubbing on him like a cat in heat, but you couldn’t stop yourself. It felt too good to feel his solid, sturdy form against you.

As you shifted closer, you could feel the tackiness of blood on your arms and chest, and when you glanced down, you saw that some had stuck to you from Bucky’s jacket. It was odd to see the blood on your skin, but it felt like another reminder of what you were doing—and, especially, who you were doing it with. 

Fire was blazing through your veins as you cast your hooded eyes on Bucky’s face, your mouth going soft as you met his piercing gaze. There was a cold flame in the depths of his blue eyes, one you’d never seen in all the times you’d watched Slasher, and it filled you with pride to realize Bucky liked having you pressed against him. 

In response to your question, which you’d almost forgotten in the seconds after it passed your lips, Bucky huffed a laugh behind his mask. Then his hands were on your ass, and he was grabbing your soft flesh with an unyielding grip. He hiked you up higher against his chest, using his inhuman strength, and your legs fell open instinctively, so his thick bulge dug into the juncture of your thighs. 

A wanton moan fell from your lips, your head falling back as you rocked your hips in tiny circles, grinding on Bucky’s hard cock through your clothes. You could feel the flat steel of his knife pressed to the back of your thigh, and your core pulsed at the weapon’s proximity to your most sensitive place, but you didn’t have any worry he was going to use it on you—not when he was staring at you with such a greedy look in his eyes.

Bucky growled out, “Dumb slut,” as his fingers dug into your ass through your jean shorts, but you were too distracted by humping against the mountain of a man, pleasure swirling through your body and filling your head with cotton candy nothing. 

All that mattered was grinding against Bucky’s bulge, and the fact that you were finally—finally—getting to live out your darkest fantasies of fucking the horror movie villain.

“Y’know, I always wondered if killing made your cock hard,” you murmured breathlessly, catching Bucky’s eye and giving him a cheeky grin. “Guess I have my answer now.” You dragged the seam of your shorts up the thick length of Bucky’s cock, drawing a growl from him, your smile spreading wider. “Unless you just have a soft spot for dumb sluts like me,” you said, giggling at your own joke and batting your lashes at him.

Bucky shook his head at you, but not like he was disagreeing with you—more like he was already exasperated with your antics. 

“I thought I already killed this town’s biggest slut,” Bucky ground out, and though you couldn’t see his mouth or jaw, you somehow knew he was grinding his teeth. His fingers dug harder into your ass, his grip nearly punishing as you squirmed against him. 

You found an angle that had your clit rubbing against the tip of Bucky’s cock through your clothes and you let your head fall back, a filthy moan spilling from your lips. The obscene sound rose toward the darkening sky above the fairgrounds, loud against the silence that had fallen over the deserted carnival.

When you managed to get control of your tongue again, and pick up the thread of your conversation, you shot Bucky another grin.

“I’m not from Bakersfield,” you purred, pulling yourself closer to Bucky’s face, until your lips were nearly brushing against the hard plastic of his mask. You could feel his breath, hot and heavy, gusting through the slots on the front, making you shiver. Your expression settled into one of fake seriousness as you stared him in the eye. “And you have no idea how much of a slut I can be.”

A growl rumbled in Bucky’s chest, and his blue eyes narrowed on you, like a predator deciding on its prey. 

“Is that a challenge or an invitation, little cottontail?”

He slapped your ass with the flat of his knife, an obvious instruction to keep humping against him. 

As you followed the order, you choked out a one word answer, “Both!” Then bit your lip against a moan, hiding your delight at the nickname—and your surprise that Bucky would call you anything so sweet. 

But you didn’t seem to be grinding against him hard enough, because he dragged the sharp edge of his knife over the backs of your thighs, just beneath the curve of your ass. He didn’t press hard enough to break skin, but you could feel the threat in the gesture.

You lost the battle against trembling in the big, horror movie villain’s arms, and whimpered, rocking against him harder as a single tear leaked down your cheek. Pleasure was pulsing through your body, hard and fast, the same rhythm in which your heart beat in your chest.

Bucky rumbled a sound of pleasure, his blue eyes going molten as he watched the tear track down your face. He seemed to have forgotten your conversation entirely, more focused on your smaller body humping against his larger one.

You had long since soaked through your panties, and you could feel your arousal leaking through your shorts, coating your inner thighs in your wetness. But dry humping with Bucky wasn’t what you had in mind when you’d fantasized about the horror movie villain through most of your adult years. You needed more, and you had just the idea—a fantasy you’d long wanted to fulfill. With Bucky Barnes especially.

“I know you’re sort of busy, killing and all that,” you huffed, your body straining to keep rocking against his thick length with the speed he desired. “But I was wondering if you might want to take a break and play a game with me?” Your voice was hopelessly breathless and breathlessly hopeful, the pleading in your tone blatant as your words pitched higher with your question. 

Bucky’s brows lowered in confusion. “What kind of game?” came his rumbling, distorted voice from behind his mask.

With a flash of a smirk, you shifted one hand to his shoulder, where you remembered the bullet wound would be beneath his jacket. You could feel the slight raise of the bandages beneath the leather, and you dug your thumb into the spot. You were rewarded by a vicious growl and Bucky’s hands falling away from your ass, the cold steel of his knife disappearing from your skin.

Hopping down, you danced a few feet away from the now-enraged psychopathic killer, making sure you were beyond the reach of his long arms, including the length of his knife before you stopped. Something in your core tightened with excitement when Bucky’s cold, blue eyes focused entirely on you. Even the sight of him shaking out his arm seemed somehow threatening. 

You could see the dark stain of deep red blood in the black leather of his jacket, and couldn’t help but grin. You’d unleashed the darkest side of him, and you couldn’t be more giddy.

You knew Bucky had been holding back on you while you’d been in his arms. But you didn’t want to fuck a horror movie villain because you wanted some harmless dry humping. You wanted him to wreck you. You wanted him to hunt you down and make you his.

“The game is this,” you began, skipping back a few steps when Bucky lunged for you—though you noticed he reached for you with his free hand, rather than his knife, which you took as a good sign and grinned wider. “If you catch me, you can fuck me.” You held his gaze, your smile turning a little feral as you watched the seething villain. “As hard and as rough as you want.”

Your final words made Bucky pause, like a predator going still right before launching itself at its prey. His electric blue eyes shone brighter, reflecting the neon lights of the carnival as they fall across his handsome face. 

You could feel the energy in him shift, and even though you couldn’t see his mouth, you somehow knew he was grinning. You suspected it was even more feral than your own smile.  

“You really are the dumbest fucking slut, little cottontail,” Bucky growled, equal parts humor and menace in his tone, sending a delicious shiver skating down your spine. He took a step forward, his eyes sharp as they watched you skip backward, staying out of reach of his hand and his knife. “You better not let me catch you, baby, because if I do, I’m going to make you scream bloody murder as I split you open with my cock.”

The grin on your face was so wide it was beginning to make your cheeks hurt, but you couldn’t wipe it away even if you’d tried. Your entire body was buzzing with anticipation, adrenaline already pumping through your veins as you prepared to run. But you couldn’t help yourself, you had to taunt Bucky just a little more. If you were only going to get one chance to fuck your horror movie villain crush, you were going to make it count.

“Bet you say that to all the girls—bet none of them can scream like me,” you sassed, bouncing on the balls of your feet and scampering back a few more steps when Bucky took another menacing step forward, his big, heavy boot crunching the grass beneath him. 

You laughed at his scowling face, the sound loud and wild in the quiet that had fallen over the fairgrounds. Even the music of the carousel had gone silent. But you couldn’t hold your tongue. You loved the look of danger on Bucky’s face too much.

“You gotta catch me first, Mr. Slasher, then we’ll see if you can make me scream.”

With that parting challenge, you gave Bucky one last cheeky, impertinent smile, and the you turned and took off. 

Sprinting off into the Bakersfield Fun Fair, you didn’t dare look behind you, knowing instinctively that Bucky would be close on your heels. Your mind raced as you tried to form some kind of plan, since you hadn’t thought this far ahead. 

Of course, you had every intention of letting Bucky catch you, but you didn’t want to make it too easy for him. Besides, you’d always wanted to be chased by the hot horror movie villain, then overpowered and taken by the brutal man, so you wanted to make sure you enjoyed yourself as well.

As you turned a corner and began running down a row of carnival rides and games on the edge of the fairground, you spotted the funhouse in front of you. Grinning wildly, you pushed to run a little harder and launched yourself up the metal stairs leading into the funhouse.

There was a spinning barrel right away, and you clambered through it, the silence inside the funhouse swallowing you up as you plunged into the depths of the structure. Hauling yourself up a flight of stairs, you stumbled to a stop when you found that the interior of the funhouse was a maze of mirrors.

Your heart was practically beating out of your chest as you began moving through the maze, your hands outstretched to feel your way between the mirrors. Too soon, you heard Bucky’s heavy footsteps on the metal stairs leading up to the level with the maze and you tried to scurry faster, but you kept bumping into mirrors thinking they were a clear path forward.

A deep, dark chuckle echoed through the stuffy room in the funhouse, the sound distorted through Bucky’s mask, making him truly sound like a horror movie villain. 

The sound of his laugh sent a shiver racing down your spine, your heart rate picking up as you heard his heavy boots begin walking through the maze. It seemed like he was moving much faster than you and you tried to pick up your pace.

“When I get my hands on you, little cottontail,” Bucky began, his menacing voice filtering to you easily, sounding like he was right behind you. “You’re going to regret being such a dumb slut—I’m going to destroy your tight holes with my cock and ruin you until you’re all mine.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time!” you called over your shoulder, just before barreling into another mirror with a defeated, “oof,” as you tried to escape the maze. 

Huffing in frustration, you turned and went down another path, your panicked breaths so loud in your ears, you couldn’t hear Bucky’s footsteps anymore. You bit your lip, trying to stay quiet, but your lungs protested, your pounding heart making you feel the blood pumping through your veins with every step you took.

“If you’re a good slut, maybe I won’t kill you,” Bucky rumbled, his voice definitely closer than it should be, and you whipped around, looking for the source. But he was no where in sight. “Maybe I’ll keep you—chain you up in my basement, and use your body like the fuck hole you were meant to be.”

You tried to ignore the way your pussy quivered at Bucky’s threat, your body wanting him to do exactly that. But you pushed on, though you were having a harder and harder time remembering why you didn’t want him to catch you. Your panties were soaked and your hole was aching to be filled. And Bucky seemed more than willing to fuck you until you were nothing more than the dumb slut he accused you of being.

Rounding a corner, you gasped loudly as the massive form of Bucky Barnes loomed in front of you, his blue eyes immediately finding yours and making you feel like prey trapped by a much larger predator. 

Spinning on the ball of your foot, you turned and tried to escape in the other direction, only to run head first into Bucky’s chest. His arms closed around you, and you belatedly realized the Bucky you’d seen had been a reflection in one of the mirrors. He wasted no time, squeezing you so tight to his body that you cried out, his strength forcing the air from your lungs. You were caught.

“I win, little cottontail,” Bucky sneered, crushing you harder to his chest while you struggled to breathe, your ribs feeling like they were on the verge of snapping.

Then, suddenly, he let you go and you slumped to your knees, your legs giving out as you fell to the metal floor of the funhouse. Your head was spinning from the lack of air and you focused on pulling as much oxygen into your lungs as possible, the adrenaline in your body making you feel your heartbeat in your temples. 

While you were distracted, Bucky quickly worked his pants open and before you knew what was happening, his thick, heavy cock fell on your face with a lewd slapping sound. You flinched. But then Bucky’s musky scent filled your nose, and you relaxed. Warmth spread through your body as your mind went fuzzy for an entirely different reason than lack of oxygen. 

Your mouth fell open instinctively, your head tipping back to press your lips to his girth, and you felt more wetness dripping from your slit between your thighs. 

Bucky chuckled at your obvious submission, but still used the flat tip of his knife to tip your face back further, until it was practically horizontal. He worked his hips languidly, sliding his cock over your face, precum dripping onto your skin and making a mess of your cheeks and forehead.

“Open your mouth wider, dumb slut,” Bucky growled, his eyes glittering in the dim funhouse as he stared down at you. 

When you did as he ordered, sticking your tongue out for good measure, the tip playing with his balls, the horror villain made a pleased sound deep in his chest. You had the distinct impression he was smiling again, and you almost dared to ask him to take off the mask, but decided against it. Part of the fun of fucking Bucky Barnes was him keeping the mask on. 

“Good girl,” Bucky purred, petting your head with his free hand. He dragged his hips back and pushed the leaking head of his dick into your mouth. “Now, suck.”

The metal flooring of the funhouse dug painfully into your knees, but you pushed the pain from your mind as you focused entirely on Bucky’s cock. Wrapping your lips around the head, you sucked gently, the taste of his precum bursting on your tongue. Your chest warmed with pride when he groaned in pleasure.

You’d intended to take your time—wanting to savor Bucky’s cock and learn every inch of the thick, veiny length before making him come in your mouth. But it seemed your horror movie crush didn’t have the patience for that. You supposed you shouldn’t be surprised. You did make him chase you. 

“Is that all ya got, little cottontail?” Bucky growled, using the hand on your head to push you down roughly on his cock, making you gag, your hands flailing against his hard thighs. “I thought you were some kind of slut—thought you’d be throating my cock the second you got your lips around it.” 

Tears poured down your cheeks as he pushed deeper with a grunt, your fingers curling into fists against his thighs as you tried to open for him. Bucky’s cock forcing its way into your throat stung a little, and you worked to relax your muscles, but they kept squeezing tight, preventing his hard length from sliding all the way in.

Finally, Bucky pulled his cock free from your mouth and you gasped for breath, a hand massaging your throat, the inside feeling raw already. But Bucky didn’t seem to care. 

He bent down over you, grabbing your face in his free hand and using the sharp end of his knife to wipe the tears from your face. 

“I thought you wanted this, baby,” he rumbled, his tone mocking and patronizing, a laugh in his distorted voice that made you think he was grinning and enjoying your struggle more than he was trying to let on. “You said I could fuck you as hard and rough as I want.” He paused to tsk at you. “You can’t even take my cock without gagging—some slut you are.”

Embarrassment and no small amount of humiliation flooded through you, making you pout. OK so maybe you were more of a slut in theory than in practice, but you did want this. And you’d been trying. Couldn’t he see that?

Crossing your arms over your chest, you glared up at Bucky, your lips still pursed in a pout. 

“Your cock is too big,” you huffed, a hint of a whine in your voice. “Let me try again.”

Bucky laughed, the sound cold and mean, though that only made your pussy drip even more for him. He patted your cheek patronizingly with his knife before fixing you with a hard look.

“You either take my whole cock in your dumb slut mouth, little cottontail,” he growled, a threat in his tone. “Or I’ll make you take it, ya hear me?”

The menace in his deep voice sent a shiver racing down your spine, settling heavily between your thighs until you had to squeeze them together against the ache in your core. You nodded your understanding. “Yes, sir,” you murmured. 

“Good girl,” came Bucky’s rumbling, terrifying voice. Then he stood up and shoved his cock into your mouth again, so suddenly that all you could do was make a muffled, surprised noise and take it. 

You bobbed on the hard, thick length of Bucky’s cock, stretching your lips until the edges stung, forcing his girth deep into your mouth. You gagged when the tip pressed against the back of your throat, but you tried to ignore your body’s response and work past it. No matter how hard you tried, though, you couldn’t get his dick all the way inside your mouth.

After a few minutes of letting you try and watching you fail, Bucky let out an impatient growl before muttering, “Looks like you need me to make you take my cock, baby.” Both his hands grabbed your head and he tilted it back, so your gaze met his. “Just remember, if you’d been a better slut, you wouldn’t have made me do this.”

Your eyes widened, tears leaking out the corners as he moved you into the new position he wanted, with your back to one of the mirrors, your head trapped between the hard surface and his cock. Your fingers fisted in the fabric of his pants near his knees, but you didn’t protest, just stared up at your horror movie villain, anticipation zipping through your body.

“Don’t worry, little cottontail,” Bucky rumbled, and you could tell he was smiling again, the corners of his eyes crinkling in a telltale way. “This won’t hurt nearly as much as if I’d slit your throat—but it’ll probably last longer than it would’ve taken you to bleed out.”

At that ominous comment, your pussy clenched, even more wetness dripping from your pussy and soaking your shorts. You clenched your thighs together, but that was the only part of your body you could move other than your arms. You were helpless to Bucky’s brutality, and you loved it. If his cock wasn’t already buried in your mouth, you would’ve urged him on.

Wasting no more time, Bucky shoved his dick deep into your mouth, pushing past the squeezing muscles in your throat, groaning when you choked and gagged on his thick cock. Your jaw ached and your throat felt raw, but you accepted it, you welcomed it. Bucky’s roughness was only making your pussy wetter, and you couldn’t wait until you could feel him sinking into your tight, wet hole.

Still, you couldn’t quite control your body’s reaction to the intrusion in your throat. Your throat spasmed and you let out a strangled little sound of desperation as it got harder to breathe. You arms flailed and your body tried to escape, only to bang against the mirror behind you. The fact that you were trapped, really trapped, made more tears leak from your eyes. 

“That’s it, baby, cry for me while you’re choking on my cock,” Bucky rumbled, holding your head in his hands as he stared down at you, kneeling for him, your throat bulging with his cock. His eyes sparkled like he enjoyed the sight far too much. “Your dumb slut tears are making me harder.” 

You felt his cock throb in your throat as proof, but then he was pulling back, only for his hips to snap forward, burying his hard length in your throat all over again. More tears poured down your face, your throat closing on a sob that wrenched a deep, pleasured groan from Bucky.

“Fuck, that’s it—take it, slut, you might be crying, but you fucking love it, don’t you, little cottontail?” Bucky rumbled, breathless laughter in his tone. “You love letting me use your mouth like my own personal fuck toy, bet your pussy’s dripping onto the floor, making a mess of your thighs like ‘m gonna make a mess of your face, huh?”

You couldn’t help it, you moaned around Bucky’s cock, his words stoking the blazing fire of your arousal. It didn’t help matters that he was right—your thighs, your shorts and your panties were a mess, all soaked with your desire. 

Bucky grunted when he felt you moan around his hardness, his hips snapping against your face harder as he pounded into your mouth. His hands held your head in a punishing grip, his cock ramming deep into your throat while the back of your skull was pressed against the mirror behind you.

A whine worked its way up your throat as you squirmed, your pussy pulsing with the need to be filled, to be rubbed, to get some kind of attention. One of your hands fell between your thighs and you rocked against it, your clit rubbing against the seam of your shorts until you were moaning and sobbing around Bucky’s cock.

Suddenly he stopped. “What’re you doin’ down there, little cottontail?” he rasped, ducking his head to the side so he could see around his cock and your face. When he caught you with your hand between your thighs, he laughed, his glittering blue eyes finding yours. “Oh, I see—the dumb little slut’s dripping hole needs some attention, huh?” 

Bucky shifted, using his booted foot to kick your thighs apart on the metal floor of the funhouse. Then he shoved his boot between your legs, and jerked his head like he expected you to sit on it.

“You need something to hump against, don’t you, baby?” he asked, his tone mocking. “Well, go ‘head. Ride my fucking boot, little cottontail.” His voice was dark and deep, the sound of it making you shiver. But you couldn’t pretend you didn’t want to follow his order, so you lowered yourself down onto his boot.

The moment your aching core dragged over the laces of Bucky’s boot, you let out a low, filthy moan, the sound muffled by his cock in your mouth. It was exactly the kind of friction you wanted, your clit and messy slit rubbing against the seam of your shorts and the roughness of his laces. Pleasure bloomed, hot and heady, and swirled through your body, overwhelming your mind.

Above you, Bucky groaned, shoving deeper into your throat until your nose was pressed into the thick thatch of hair at the base of his cock and his balls were nestled up against your chin. Spit and precum and tears were leaking down your face, making a mess of your jaw and chin, dripping down to your tits while Bucky watched you with hooded eyes.

“Do that again, baby,” Bucky grunted, holding your head down on his hardness. “Moan like a dumb fucking slut on my cock while I ruin your throat.” 

It took little effort to moan again as pleasure and pain swirled through your body, your hips working on Bucky’s boot, grinding your slick cunt against the stiff leather through your panties and shorts. Your clit rubbed over the laces, your mind filling with clouds of bliss as you sank into the feeling of your pussy grinding against Bucky’s boot and his cock fucking your throat.

Bucky was grunting and groaning loudly, his sounds of pleasure a reward for how good your slutty mouth was making him feel. He pounded into your face, his balls slapping against your chin, seeking his release while you humped against his boot, intent on finding your own pleasure while he used you. 

You were both lost entirely in each other, too focused on seeking pleasure to notice someone else had entered the funhouse. Bucky’s eyes were only for you, and you were staring up too intently into his face, watching pleasure make his eyes go hazy to pay attention to your surroundings—which was the only reason one of the final girl’s friends was able to sneak up on the two of you.

“Get away from her, you monster!” The girl’s shriek was followed closely by the splintering sound of a wooden bat as she swung it at Bucky, and the thing shattering apart against his back. Her face, twisted in fury and determination, quickly shifted to surprise and panic.

For his part, Bucky merely grunted, barely lurching forward as he shoved his cock impossibly deeper in your throat while he bore the attack. But then he was moving quicker than your pleasure-drunk eyes could fully process, your body only aware that he was pulling back until only the tip of him remained on your tongue. Growling furiously, Bucky turned and used his knife to slash the girl’s throat.

You vaguely recognized the girl as one of the characters in Slasher who gets killed at the carnival in the third act, though you couldn’t remember which ride Bucky kills her on. Maybe it was the funhouse—that would explain how she found the two of you.

In that moment, you didn’t much care. You’d been busy with Bucky and you were more than a little annoyed at the interruption. Your body was buzzing with your unslaked need, and you felt horny and frustrated as you turned your attention back to the horror villain above you.

But Bucky’s focus was entirely on the other girl, who was grabbing her throat uselessly, trying to stem the gush of blood as she stumbled into a mirror, leaving a bloody handprint behind. Bucky’s eyes were gleaming as he savored the sight of the dying girl, the corners of his eyes crinkling like he was grinning.

His cock was still in your mouth, but just barely, and the longer he watched the other girl die, the more a pout grew on your lips. 

After a few long moments of the girl’s death dragging on, you’d had enough. This was your fantasy come to life, and if Bucky wasn’t going to pay attention to you and get you off, then you were going to make him. 

Carefully, you extracted yourself from between Bucky and the mirror you’d been pressed against, your pout only growing when his stiff cock slipped from your lips and he didn’t even notice. Quickly, you crawled around the corner and once you were out of sight, you hopped up to your feet so you could move faster.

Your legs felt weak from your earlier running and kneeling on the hard, metal floor—not to mention how close you’d been to coming on Bucky’s boot. But you urged them to work as you moved as quietly as you could through the rest of the maze.

You were already almost to the exit when Bucky finally noticed you’d escaped. His angry roar of, “COTTONTAIL!” echoed off the mirrors and metal walls inside the funhouse. But his rage only made you snicker. It was his own fault, after all.

“You shoulda tied me down or paid more attention to me if you didn’t want me getting away, Mr. Slasher,” you called over your shoulder, taunting him as you darted around the final corner in the mirror maze, finding your way out. You clambered through the rest of the funhouse, Bucky’s stomping footsteps reverberating around you and making your heart beat faster with fear and excitement.

You slid down the slide that worked as the exit from the funhouse and as soon as your feet hit the grass of the fairground, you sprinted off again. Wracking your brain, you tried to think about where else Bucky kills the final girl’s friends in the final act of Slasher. All you could remember was the ending, with the carousel.

You turned a corner, running in the opposite direction of the carousel and that area of the carnival, not wanting the final girl or anymore of her friends interrupting you once Bucky caught you again.

Sooner than you expected, a leather-clad chest slammed into your back and, within the next breath, you hit the grassy ground as Bucky tackled you. One of his hands wrapped around the front of your throat, his fingers digging into the sides of your neck while he pressed his face into the side of yours.

Even through his hard plastic mask, you could feel his breath on your skin, his hot, heavy breaths gusting past your cheek as he panted like a rabid dog. 

“I win again, baby,” Bucky growled, his voice even more threatening thanks to the fury in it. He clearly didn’t appreciate that you’d made him chase you again, and the coldness in his tone promised that while you might find pleasure in what he was about to do to you, you were also going to feel no small amount of pain. 

“And you can be sure I won’t make the same mistake twice,” he went on, resting more of his weight on your back until you were pinned to the ground beneath him, your body struggling to catch your breath as he crushed your lungs. “Now that I have you, you’re never getting away from me again—you’re mine, little cottontail.”

Your heart panged in your chest, and it took you a second to realize the feeling was yearning. Because that was the heart of it, wasn’t it? You wanted someone to see you at your brattiest, with your darkest desires all laid out—and even seeing your soul bared for them, you wanted them to want to keep you. Part of you wanted to roll over and open your legs for Bucky, tell him you were his forever. But that wasn’t really in your nature.

Instead, you huffed a belated laugh, squirming beneath Bucky and fighting against his considerable strength even though you knew it was no good. You weren’t going anywhere, and you loved it.

“I’ll believe it when I see it, Mr. Slasher,” you taunted, bucking your hips hard. You felt Bucky’s big body jostle just a little and, sensing a glimmer of freedom, you fought harder. 

Then cold steel replaced Bucky’s hand at your throat and you went still. Despite the fact that he’d used the knife mere moments ago to kill someone else, you were almost certain he wasn’t going to do the same to you. Well, pretty certain.

Besides, you were still convinced you were in a dream and dying would only wake you up. But with Bucky’s knife pressed to your neck, you didn’t exactly want to test your theory.

The horror movie villain chuckled, his chest rumbling against your spine and his breath ghosting over your cheek. 

“That’s the first smart thing you’ve done all night, little cottontail,” he murmured, his voice so dark and deep, it made you shiver. 

He dug the steel of his knife into your throat, using his other hand to guide you up onto your hands and knees. Bucky’s big body was curled over yours, his hand reaching beneath you to grope your tits while he groaned against the side of your face. 

“Such soft tits, baby,” he grunted as his fingers kneaded your flesh through your tank top. Then his hand was diving under the fabric to pinch your nipples, making you cry out and arch your back. “Yeah, that’s it, ya dumb slut, let me hear how much you like having a monster like me playing with your tits.”

You whimpered when he pinched your nipple hard and shook your breast, the sting of pain and pleasure consuming your mind and making you grind back against his thick cock, which he’d tucked back into his pants. An impatient whine tumbled from your lips and it was on the tip of your tongue to beg Bucky to fuck you, but it seemed he was just as eager to get on with it.

Skimming his hand down your body, Bucky found the button of your shorts and quickly undid them. He sat up on his knees, dragging you with him and keeping his knife at your throat. 

He shoved your shorts and panties down roughly past your ass to your thighs, then dipped his hand between your legs. A loud groan rumbled in his chest when he realized how wet you were. 

“Fuck, you really are a slut, aren’t you, baby?” he taunted in a mocking tone, and you could almost hear the smile in his voice. His fingers slipped between your drenched folds and all you could do to answer him was moan as he teased your pussy. “I’m gonna fill up this slick cunt, little cottontail,” he rumbled in your ear, a promise ringing in his words. “I’m gonna destroy your tight hole until you’re nothing more than my dumb, cock-drunk slut.”

Between Bucky’s fingers playing with your pussy and his words wreaking havoc on your pleasure-soaked mind, you were desperate for him to follow through on his promise. 

Suddenly, you’d had enough of the game you’d been playing with Bucky and you wanted him to finally—finally—fuck you.

“Please, Bucky, please, please, fuck me,” you sobbed, tears leaking from your eyes and down your cheeks as you rocked your ass against his hard cock. “Please, god, I need it—I need you.”

For a moment, Bucky was silent and unmoving. Then he was shoving you forward into the grass so you were back on your hands and knees. His knife just barely grazed the side of your neck as you fell forward, and you whimpered at the light sting of it.

The next thing you knew, Bucky’s cock was slapping against your bare ass, and he was lining himself up with your soaked, fluttering pussy. Your fingers dug into the grass, preparing yourself to hold on for dear life.

“Remember, little cottontail, you said I could fuck you as hard and rough as I want,” Bucky rumbled, sliding his cock between your legs, coating his thick length in your desire. “If it’s too much for you, you can scream all you want, but I’m not stopping until I’ve filled your cunt with all the come in my balls.”

You could hear the laughter in Bucky’s voice, but didn’t have time to respond to his words because in the next second, he shoved himself all the way inside you with one thrust.

Bucky’s thick, hard cock slammed deep into your tight pussy, and a scream wrenched free from your lips, making your already raw throat hurt even more. But it was the delicious kind of pain that mixed perfectly with the feeling of Bucky filling you up for the first time. 

His girth was bigger than anyone or any toy you’d taken before, and it felt like you were being split apart, your insides rearranging to make room for his huge cock. It was only because you were so wet that it didn’t really hurt, but the sting of the stretch was enough to send your mind reeling, your thoughts scattering until the only thing that mattered was Bucky’s cock inside you and his body behind you.

Bucky made a noise that was half groan, half growl—sounding entirely feral behind his mask as his hands dug into your hips. You could feel him still holding his knife, but the steel wasn’t pressed against your skin so you didn’t give it much thought.

“God, that’s a tight fucking cunt ya got here, cottontail,” he rasped, pulling back and slamming forward so hard, your arms shook and you nearly collapsed face first into the grass. “Feel like you were fucking made for me, baby—made to be my fuck hole, made to take my cock.”

True to his word, the horror movie villain rutted into you hard, paying no mind to your pleasure, just taking his own. But that was exactly how you liked it, and you couldn’t help the litany of desperate moans and whimpers that tumbled past your lips. 

Before long, your arms gave out and your cheek pressed to the grass, which was cool against your face. The position made your back arch and your ass stick up in the air. Bucky made a pleased sound, slapping your ass in a gesture that almost felt like praise.

“Yeah, take it like a slut, baby,” he growled, pounding into you harder—hard enough you could feel your ass and hips and thighs ripple with the force of his thrusts. “This is how dumb sluts are meant to be fucked.”

You whined at the searing pleasure of Bucky’s cock hammering into your cunt, and you arched your back further, giving him easier access to drive even deeper into you from behind. Your reward was another hard slap on your ass—that time with the cold flat steel of Bucky’s knife. You squealed, then moaned as the sharp sting devolved into even more pleasure.

Bucky laughed, the sound wild and dark. Then he curled his body over yours, dropping the knife in the grass so he could grab wrap one of his hands around your throat while the other groped your tits. 

“You’re mine, little cottontail,” he growled in your ear. “I own your body now, and you’re going to be my personal fuck toy for the rest of your life.” He rutted into you, hard and rough, his hips slapping against your ass mixing with the sounds of your wet pussy being fucked. “I’m gonna chain you up in my basement, and you’re gonna be my basement slut—my little cottontail—forever.”

It was impossible to nod, and impossible to speak, with how tightly Bucky had you pinned beneath him while he fucked you. So you wrapped a hand around his wrist, not pulling him away, but squeezing hard enough that you could feel his pulse thrumming beneath your thumb. You clung to him, telling him wordlessly that you were submitting to him, tears gathering in your lashes as pleasure overwhelmed you.

“Fuck,” Bucky grunted, pounding you hard and fast, the hard plastic of his mask digging into the side of your face. “Cry for me, cottontail, you know it makes me harder.” 

His fingers dug into the sides of your throat while his other hand tortured your nipples, tugging and pinching them, until your tears began leaking from your eyes. Bucky ducked forward, nuzzling your tear-stained cheek through his mask, groaning as he hit a spot inside of you that made your whole body clench and your mouth drop open in a soundless scream.

“I can feel your cunt choking my cock, baby,” Bucky rumbled in your ear. “You really love everything I’m doing to you, don’t you, dumb slut?” His hips pressed against your ass and he started grinding his cock deep in your core, the tip brushing against that spot inside you that made you see stars.

“Yes, yes, Bucky, yes,” you sobbed, your words breathless and soft and only able to escape because he’d loosened his hold on your throat slightly. But then he tightened his fingers again and you made a desperate little gasping sound.

Bucky laughed, the sound evil and mocking, and your cunt pulsed again. He refocused on fucking you, pounding into you and chasing his own pleasure. You tried to scream, the pleasure nearly mind-blowing, but his hand on your throat made sure you could only make the barest of noises.

“You’re gonna come on my cock, little cottontail,” Bucky rumbled, his hard plastic mask chafing against your sensitive cheek. “You’re gonna come and show me that you’re mine, that you accept your new life—and me as your master.”

Your fingers squeezed his wrist again in understanding, and then you couldn’t think anymore. Bucky’s cock was pounding into your pussy hard enough to almost hurt, pleasure pulsing through your body as he plucked and played with your tits. Your head was going fuzzy from a lack of air, but that just made everything else feel better and more.

When Bucky’s hand abandoned your tits to slip between your thighs, it only took a few strokes of his fingers against your clit to set you off. At the same moment, Bucky’s hand loosened around your throat, and oxygen flooded your lungs as you came on his cock. 

It was almost an out-of-body experience, coming on the thick length of your horror movie villain crush, your mind going entirely blank as your body tried to process all the pleasure and sensation flooding through it. A loud, piercing scream sounded in your ears and it took a second to realize it was spilling from your own lips. 

Bucky’s hand tightened around your throat again, tighter than before, cutting off the sound of your pleasure while he grunted and groaned above you. He was rutting into you as your walls squeezed his cock, taking his pleasure as he prolonged yours.

Blackness was starting to creep into the edges of your vision when he finally roared loudly, his cock throbbing inside you as he spilled his come deep in your pussy. His fingers dug into the sides of your throat harder, choking you through his orgasm as your body fluttered with the last waves of your release. 

The last thing you heard was Bucky muttering, “Good girl, take my come, little cottontail,” as he pumped you full of his thick, sticky seed. Then, there was nothing but comforting darkness, and you sank into it, feeling satisfied and happy as you passed out in the arms of your horror movie villain…

Now, the choice is yours, dear reader. Do you want to stay with Bucky Barnes and live in the world of Slasher? If so, read on for the dark ending! Or do you want to wake up and meet someone a little less psychotic? If so, skip down to the fluffy ending!

Slasher - Dark Ending

dark ending additional warnings: dubcon, somnophilia, slightly painful sex, basement wife-ing, references to Bucky's arm amputation, Bucky is even more psychotic

You were woken by your body jostling against concrete, an aching mix of pleasure and pain radiating between your thighs. The slick sounds of fucking met your ears and, belatedly, you realized you were impaled on a cock, the thickness of it stretching your tight hole to its limit. 

Your inner thighs felt chafed and your back hurt from the position you were contorted in, your shoulders propped up against a cinderblock wall while you were folded in half at the waist, a heavy body pinning your legs to your chest while they fucked you. You were naked and a little cold, but the body against you was warm.

Blinking your eyes open, you were met with the sight of Bucky’s handsome face contorted with pleasure as he fucked you. There was a new glimmer in the depths of his blue eyes—something wild and feral and more than a little frightening. His mouth spread into a savage grin when he saw you were awake.

“There’s my little cottontail,” he rumbled before ducking down and kissing your cheek in a gesture that would’ve been sweet if not for his stubble roughing over your sensitive skin. You whimpered softly at the abrading feeling, your pussy pulsing despite your exhaustion.

When he pulled back, the sound of chains rattling above you finally caught your attention and you looked up, finding your wrists shackled above your head and bolted into the wall of the basement. Dim morning light was filtering in through windows set high in the walls, and you couldn’t make out much beyond the shadow of the stairs leading up to the first floor.

Before you could gather you wits enough to ask a question, or wade through your confusion to figure out what question you should even ask, Bucky slammed deep inside you, wringing a weak moan from you. It was only then that you realized he’d been taking it easy on you while you were asleep, but since you were awake, he started fucking you harder. Pleasure, pain and bewilderment warred with the tiredness of just waking up as you tried to think. 

Your eyes slid closed while you tried to block out Bucky and your surroundings. You needed to figure out why you weren’t in your grandmother’s basement, having woken up from the dream you’d been sure you were having.

But Bucky didn’t like that. His weight settled more heavily on top of you, making your hips ache in protest, and grabbed your face roughly in his hand. 

“Look at me, cottontail,” he rumbled, shaking your head until your eyes fluttered open again.

Tears leaked out of the corners of your eyes and your mouth worked, trying to find the words for how you felt. You’d wanted this—wanted someone like Bucky who saw who you really were and still wanted to keep you. But now that you were actually chained up in his basement, you wondered if maybe you’d jumped in the deep end without being able to swim. 

“Don’t look so confused, baby,” Bucky growled in a patronizingly sweet tone, thumbing your tears from your cheeks and making you flinch as the salt of them irritated your skin. “I told you I was never letting you go—you knew this was going to happen.” He was grinding his cock deep into your well-used cunt, the pleasure almost painful. “Now that you’re chained up in my basement, you have no hope of ever escaping from me again.”

The head of his cock battered against your cervix and you cried out, your head thumping against the cinderblock wall behind you. The pain mixed with the pleasure of thick length rubbing against your sensitive inner walls until your mind was spinning. 

You just couldn’t wrap your head around it. You really hadn’t known this was going to happen. You’d thought you were dreaming and were going to wake up after you’d fucked Bucky Barnes, but apparently that wasn’t the case. Apparently you’d really somehow been transported into the world of Slasher.

“Thank me for keeping you, little cottontail,” Bucky growled, wringing another pleasured whimper from you as he kept grinding his cock into you. “After all, it wasn’t easy getting you here after that bitch crushed my arm.” His voice was dripping venom and he rocked his hips harder, forcing tears from your eyes as his cock battered your cervix.

It was only then that you understood why so much of Bucky’s weight was resting on you while his hand held your face. Darting your eyes to Bucky’s shoulder, there was a thick, bloody bandage wrapped around the place where he must’ve amputated his arm after the final girl had crushed it in the carousel gears. 

Your stomach rolled at the sight, empathy for Bucky surging through you. It really couldn’t have been easy getting you back to his house when he was injured like that. 

But before you could follow the order he’d given you, Bucky yanked your face back to look at him. He ducked closer, so all you could see were his eyes, wild and psychotic, boring into your own.

“Thank your master for keeping you!” he growled harshly.

Your heart panged, and you rushed to do as he said. “Th-thank you for keeping me, Bucky,” you cried, tears streaming down your face, your voice filled with genuine gratitude. “Thank you, master!” 

The anger leeched out of Bucky at your words and your tears, and you could feel his cock throbbing inside you. 

“Good girl,” he purred, nuzzling your cheek in reward and kissing your jaw with his soft lips. “My good, dumb slut—you’re going to make such a good basement wife for me.”

A small, confused noise squeaked out of you and Bucky pulled back, a grin on his face. He nodded up toward your hands and you twisted them in your shackles, finding shiny, silver metal glinting off your left ring finger. You sucked in a gasp, feeling speechless as your mind failed to process another shocking revelation in so little time.

“Your dream is coming true, baby,” Bucky rumbled, licking the tears from your cheeks, taking your silence as understanding and submission. “You’re going to be my own personal fuck hole—my pretty little dumb slut—for the rest of your life.”

Bucky canted his hips, grinding his cock into the depths of your pussy while the base of him rubbed against your clit and the pleasure that had been winding tighter in your core suddenly snapped. You came with a loud, sobbing scream, your head thrown back against the wall of the basement as tears cascaded down your cheeks while you succumbed to the pleasure, your cunt greedily squeezing Bucky’s cock.

A small part of you wanted to black out again, hoping you’d wake up back in your grandmother’s basement, unsure if you had what it took to be the full-time fuck toy of your favorite horror movie villain. But somehow you knew that wouldn’t happen.

Whatever had transported you into the world of Slasher seemed to be a one-way ticket, and you’d made your choices. The fact that you were at the mercy of Bucky Barnes was no one’s fault but your own.

And yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to regret anything you’d done. After all, you’d gotten exactly what you wanted—you got to fuck Bucky Barnes. And if you had your way, you’d fuck Bucky Barnes every day until you died. Which was good, since that seemed to be exactly what he had planned for you.

Just then, Bucky grunted, his cock twitching inside you and he slammed deep, grabbing your face and pulling you in for a messy kiss while he came, coating your insides with his seed. His lips were hard and demanding, but you weren’t some wilting flower—you nipped his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. 

Bucky’s cock throbbed inside you as he chuckled, kissing you again, the taste of his blood bursting on your tongue as you devoured each other. 

When he pulled away and collapsed on top of you, a satisfied smile curved your lips. You glanced up at the ring on your finger again, thinking it wouldn’t be so bad to be Bucky Barnes’ basement wife. 

Slasher - Fluffy Ending

fluffy ending additional warnings: talk about past roleplay, some potentially risky decisions on reader's part, that's really it

You awoke with a start, the loud, chiming sound of the doorbell echoing through your grandmother’s house and dragging you back to reality from the depths of your dream. A faint soreness permeated your body, and you frowned, the memory of your dream clinging to the edges of your mind.  

Groggily, you opened your eyes to find you were curled up on the familiar rug in the basement of your grandmother’s house, and you suspected the hard floor was likely the cause of your soreness. Still, you felt a faint tingling all over, the remnants of pleasure from your dream and you smiled as you stretched languidly, easing most of the aches in your limbs.

The doorbell chimed again, and you dragged yourself up, wiping drool from your cheek as you pulled your cardigan tighter around yourself and climbed the stairs up to the first floor. On your way to the door, you checked the time, finding it was nearly midnight, and wondered who was stopping by so late. All your relatives and all your grandmother’s friends would be asleep.

Flicking on the porch light, you opened the front door, but the left the screen door latched when you found a strange man standing there. The frigid autuman night air wrapped around you, and you crossed your arms over your chest to stave off a shiver. 

“Hey Mrs—” The man had been standing with his back to you, facing the street, and swung around when he heard the door open. But he paused when he saw you, his greeting cutting off as if he’d been expecting someone else. 

A distant corner of your brain pointed out that of course he was expecting someone else—you were answering the door at your grandmother’s house.

But you couldn’t pay attention to your mind’s logic because you were silently freaking out. The man looked almost exactly like Bucky Barnes. 

He had the same sparkling blue eyes, though there wasn’t any of the cold hatred that haunted your favorite horror movie villain. And his mouth was curved into a charming smile, which you knew for certain you’d never see on the version of Bucky from Slasher. The man’s hair was also shorter, and the stubble on his jaw was a little less scruffy, like he’d shaved that morning and it had grown out since then. The style really worked for him. 

He was somehow even more attractive than Bucky Barnes. You didn’t know how that was possible, but apparently it was. 

The man shifted on his feet, running a hand through his hair, looking a little abashed. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb ya,” he said, a slight Brooklyn accent in his voice. “Sometimes I borrow some ground coffee from the lady who lives here when I’ve run out.” He shot you a sheepish smile and shrugged. “And I’ve run out.”

“Oh,” you said, a little dumbly. “You must be talking about my grandmother.” Your surprise over the man’s resemblance to Bucky was wearing off, and you found that his smile was infectious. He had a charm to him that made you want to tell him more than you should, which must’ve been why you found yourself saying, “She’s on a cruise, and I’m watching her house.”

It might’ve been a mistake to tell a strange man that much, but instead of doing anything to make you second-guess yourself, he just smacked a hand against his forehead. The gesture was so endearing, you couldn’t help but laugh, warming to him even more. 

“You’re right! She told me about that.” He paused for a moment, his gaze raking over your face—hopefully not finding any traces of drool on your chin—and his eyes softened. “Sorry again to bother you, your gran’s normally up watching one of those late shows, I hope I didn’t wake you.”

You snorted to yourself. Of course your grandmother was known for staying up later than you. But you didn’t want the man to feel bad. It wasn’t like he woke you up before you came on dream Bucky’s cock. 

“No, no, it’s fine,” you said, shaking your head and smiling softly to let him know it really was fine. Again, you had the urge to say more to him than you normally would to a stranger. So, before you could hold your tongue, you blurted, “Do you know you look exactly like the villain from this old horror movie?” 

Even in the dim yellow light of the porch, you could see the man’s cheeks turn pink while he scrubbed a hand over his jaw. But he was hiding a smile behind his palm and when he caught your eye, there was humor in the depths of his gaze.

“Yeah, I get that sometimes,” he said, his voice suddenly lower. “Bucky Barnes from Slasher, right?” 

You nodded, almost mesmerized as you stared into his eyes. “I had the biggest crush on him,” you admitted, because apparently the filter between your brain and mouth had been left on the rug in your grandmother’s basement. But the man only chuckled, the light flush fading from his face.

“Did you now?” he asked, his eyes shimmering with humor as he looked at your face, his gaze raking over the curve of your lips. He shifted closer to the door and a shiver skated down your spine at the way he loomed over you. “Y’know, my friends have called me Bucky ever since we watched that movie one summer when were idiot kids.”

“Y-your name’s Bucky?” you asked, excitement making your voice come out like a whisper. 

The man looked to the side and chuckled, the sound low and rich and making you want to giggle ridiculously and kick your feet. When his gaze found yours again, his eyes were sparkling with playfulness and something more; his mouth was curved into a devastatingly charming grin.

“No, my name is James Barnes, but pretty much everyone calls me Bucky.” He watched you absorb this information, shifting even closer to the door until you could feel the warmth of him seeping through the screen. “Would you like to call me Bucky, pretty girl?” he asked, his voice pitching so low and deep, you could feel it between your thighs.

Your shoulders trembled as you shivered, nodding eagerly as you whispered, “Yes, please.”

Bucky rumbled a pleased sound, and his hand raised toward the screen, like he was reaching for you. But then he paused, as if catching himself. Huffing a laugh, he drew his hand back and wiped it down his face, seemingly forcing himself to straighten and take a step back. 

You almost whined in protest, but caught yourself at the last second, biting your lip against a frown as he moved away. You hadn’t realized how close the two of you had drifted to each other through the door until he was pulling away. You understood it was probably weird, the way you were acting with each other considering you just met, but the chemistry between you was palpable, and you desperately wanted to explore it as soon as possible.

“I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but I have the mask,” Bucky confessed, breaking you free from your thoughts. 

You were glad for it, because he was giving you another loaded look and you felt your belly swoop, butterflies taking flight as he smiled at you. It took a second to process his words, and when you did, you couldn’t help the impish grin that spread across your face. You gestured for him to go on.

“I bought it for a girl I was seeing who said she wanted to roleplay,” he went on, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans and looking off to the side again, like he knew he wasn’t supposed to be telling this to a girl he just met, but couldn’t help himself. “But I think I scared her off.” He turned his penetrating gaze back to you, pinning you in place while you held your breath. “You don’t strike me as the kind of girl who scares easily.”

You snorted again and tossed your head. That was an understatement, if your dream was any indication of your desires—which it was. You gave the man called Bucky a cheeky smile. “No, I’m definitely not,” you told him, a hint of a challenge in your tone.

For a long moment, the two of you just stood there, staring at each other. Then, you made a slightly reckless decision. Your hand reached for the latch of the screen door and pushed it open, all while holding his gaze. 

“Why don’t you come in and get that coffee you needed,” you offered, hoping your instincts about Bucky were right, and he would turn out to be exactly the kind of man you wanted in your life. Besides, you told yourself, your grandmother liked him well enough to lend him some coffee—and you trusted her judgement so he must be a decent guy. “And you can tell me what about your roleplay frightened off that girl.”

Bucky’s smile spread into a full-on grin, and he eagerly grabbed the door, opening it wider while he stepped forward. When you didn’t move back right away and instead allowed him to step into your personal space, his gaze dropped to your mouth, his eyes darkening and the corners of his mouth twitching in another smile.

“Deal,” he rumbled. “So long as you tell me more about this crush of yours.”

The memories of your dream flitted through your mind, feeling more real than any dream you’d ever had before, and you found you couldn’t wait to tell Bucky about it. The man in front of you was warmer and kinder than the one you’d met in your dreams, but you had a feeling he had a dark side that liked to come out to play—just like you. 

“Deal.” After you said the word, you felt as if something truly special was beginning and your heart raced with excitement as you stared up into Bucky’s handsome face. Both of you were grinning like idiots.

Finally taking a step back, you welcomed Bucky into your grandmother’s house, knowing deep in your bones that you were going to be in each other’s lives for a very long time—possibly even forever. And you couldn’t help but think that having this Bucky Barnes was even better than dreaming about your horror movie villain crush. After all, at least he was real.

[toxicanonymity]

DOMESTICATION

MR. GHOSTFACE x F!READER 🔪 1.8K WORDS SUMMARY: He has his way with you while you're stuck. WARNINGS: 18+ Noncon, unsafe PIV, knife/blood, collar. Inspired by this scene and ask 🔪 Divider 🔪 MY FICS

Down on all fours like the prey you were, you tore the cloudy, plastic flap off its hinges and began to squeeze through the little door. You thought to scream but choked on the air you drew in. With your head through the hole, you coughed and glanced around. No one in sight. Fallen leaves tumbled and scraped across the driveway over the muffled sounds of the party.

No one was coming to save you.

You managed to wriggle halfway out, but no further. In the process of trying, your skirt got all bunched up. The cool air of the garage was hitting your ass, and your lace panties with their heart shaped cutout were doing nothing to help.

He had to be enjoying this. Probably admiring his knife with a smug tilt of his mask. Why was he so quiet?

You stopped struggling, taking a moment to catch your breath and think. He should've caught you by now. Was there any chance he left the garage? Any chance he wouldn't kill you?

He didn't have a habit of leaving them alive.

When you began to struggle again, a weak motor droned awake, making your stomach drop. The garage door began to lift, and the bottom edge of it dug into your stomach. Your heart sank with dread. Within seconds you’d likely be dead or mangled. Seconds, IF you were lucky. The thought of him dragging out your demise was even worse. You had seen his crime scenes.

Your knees lifted off the ground as the door made its ascent.

“Please,” you begged, shoes sliding against the floor.

The garage door creaked as it came to a halt. Your feet pedaled in futility, searching for the floor. You lifted your chest, trying to wriggle backwards. The only way out of this cursed little door-–if there even was a way out-–led right to his knife.

“Please, please, I won't run. I'll be good,” you begged through tears.

Silence. Unlike him.

“I'll be good,” you repeated quieter. "Please, Mr. Ghostface."

The motor started again, and you winced. But the door began to lower, allowing you a moment of relief as your bare knees met the cool, smooth floor.

His footsteps got louder and clearer as he crossed the space. Despite being unable to see him, you knew his presence loomed behind you-–you could feel it in your bones.

Sure enough, two gloved hands gripped your thighs, lifting your lower body for a moment and spreading your legs before setting your knees down further apart.

He made a place for himself between your knees, spreading them even wider. The smooth fabric of his robe pooled over your legs with him between them. He ran his gloved hands up your torso from your hips to your waist, pushing your skirt up further so it was up around your navel. Then, two satin thumbs lightly brushed your skin, tracing the heart-shaped cutout of your underwear.

After a moment of rustling behind you, a gloved finger slotted between your panties and ass. He pulled the garment out from your body, then the elastic tension released with a slice of his knife.

More rustling. His movement made the robe graze your butt. You weren't sure if you were imagining the sound of his belt coming undone behind you, but the thought of it made your face heat up.

The heavy fabric of his robe lifted off your calves, removing any doubt about what he was about to do. You tried to ignore the way your pussy throbbed.

The smooth head of his cock nudged your entrance, then slid wetly along your slit, forward and back. You hadn't realized just how aroused you were until feeling cock glide so smoothly against your well lubricated cunt. The head lingered at your front, nudging just the right spot. Your hips tilted all on their own, and he paused before sliding back to your wet little hole, resting the curve of his tip just inside.

He gripped your hips and pushed forward, intruding into your tight, warm sleeve with his thick, hard cock. Inch by inch, his stiff manhood pushed its way into you, the pressure of his girth pushing the breath out of your lungs. He slid all the way in without much difficulty and paused after bottoming out.

You took a much needed breath.

The skin of your chest radiated warmth. Your whole upper body was hot, despite the cool air.

Your lower body was warm and stuffed.

Two big, gloved hands wrapped around your thighs, then lifted. Your body lurched forward as far as it could, then he pulled you back on him, bottoming out deeper before he let your weight back down.

You braced your forearms on the driveway and he moved his hands up to hold your hips. He withdrew most of his length then squeezed your hips and pulled you back again as he slammed all the way back in. This wasn't bad… he was slow, almost careful.

Almost as though he could hear your thoughts, he seemed to drop all restraint. He buried his cock in you at a steadily increasing pace. You were shaken by just how good he felt inside you.

You bit your arm to stifle your moans, but it was no use. He'd have to hear your sounds of pleasure, as humiliating as it was. You removed your mouth from your bicep, leaving a string of spit as you took a deep breath.

As you inhaled the night air, it smelled like someone was having a bonfire... Someone, somewhere had come outside. Maybe even the neighbors.

But you didn't cry for help.

It was as though the cock in your cunt had gagged your throat, paralyzing you. It couldn't be that you didn't want him to stop, could it? No, you told yourself.

With every thrust, it felt more like a lie.

The rhythm of his pounding made your breasts jiggle. Your arms and wrists rubbed against the driveway, but you hardly felt it. Any discomfort was drowned out by the pleasant stretch of his girth, and the grip of your pussy clinging to his length as it pushed through you.

You closed your eyes and went somewhere else, giving into the feel-good chemicals coming to boil in your blood. You couldn’t tell how much of it was the rush of survival and how much was his dick, but the combination had you hurtling toward the stratosphere. Full, you were packed full. God, it felt good. Even better, the more you let yourself feel it.

There was something freeing about completely submitting to his will. Letting him use you like a fucktoy. Giving in, letting him win, you could relax and let it all wash over you. With your body held in his hands and wrapped around his cock, you felt weightless. There was no longer pressure to fight back or flee. The only pressure was low in your gut, building toward something unthinkable. Closer with each heavy stroke.

You spasmed with a whimper.

He abruptly sped up to jackhammer pace, pushing you to the brink within seconds. You rode that edge for longer than you thought anyone could keep up that pace. You remembered to breathe, and then you saw stars. The hair on your neck stood up as you clung to the ethereal force that rippled through your loins. Pleasure shot through your core to each limb.

He slowed down as you clenched around him, then bottomed out deeper. It was like he’d created more space in you and packed it with more cock than you ever thought you'd take.

Until the warmth began to spread inside, you didn't realize he was coming. He had given no outward indication of it. You could hardly distinguish your throbbing from his, until yours faded and he was still twitching.

The grip of his hands eased up as he finished. He held you with your ass flush against his wiry hair, anchoring you. Plugging you.

After a minute, it started to feel colder outside. You felt more exposed, vulnerable, but still dared to imagine he might leave you alive.

One hand let go of you, and his robe shifted, brushing the back of your thigh. He pulled back your ruined underwear again. This time, he cut through the side and took it all the way off. Then, the surprisingly warm flat of his blade pressed against the side of your butt cheek. It slid up over the curve of your flesh.

Your heart pounded, reminding you to fear for your life.

The metal left your skin, only for the point of the blade to then prickle the center of your lower back. He held you still, and his cock twitched inside you as he began to draw blood.

You pleaded, “don't," but your insides throbbed.

A sharp, white heat followed the blade, curving upward, out, and down toward your crack. He repeated it on the other side to complete the heart. Your ears burned and pounded with their own pulse. Your inner ears began to ache.

Finally, his cock slid out of you, and after a moment of jostling, he got out from between your legs. Then, facing your side, his robe grazed your back as he hovered over you and grabbed hold of your waist. He tugged gently. You extended your arms in front of you and held them together as he pulled you back into the garage. warm blood trickled into your crack as you sat up. His gloved thumb smeared it upward.

Clear snot was coming out of your nose. You sniffed and he wiped that too, with a knuckle.

Holding his knife, he showed it to you as he stood up. He crossed the garage in just a few strides while you obediently sat back on your knees, adjusting your bra and fixing your hair.

He returned with his hands full.

Your face fell blank when you looked up to see a collar with a leash hanging off it. Your lips parted, but no sound came out. He tilted his head, then stooped down to reach around your neck and fasten the it. The arms of his robe created a curtain of darkness as he adjusted the buckle and tested the tightness with two fingers between it and your neck.

He stepped back, holding the leash, and tilted his mask, waiting. There was something else in his other hand. He clicked it, then tossed it aside as the garage door began to rise. He reached down and helped you up. Then, he walked you down the driveway and into the night, with a warm mess trickling down your thighs.

--------

--------

thank you for reading 🖤

and tysm for your comments and asks 🙏the feedback and encouragement really helps me.

[rttnz0mb]

⦻ Creepypasta Headcanons pt. 1 ⦻

Warnings: sfw, fluff, Mentions of gore, slight nsfw, slight angst, Multiple characters

Disclaimer: these are just a few head cannons I have for some of the creepy pastas, i'll probably make more head cannons on these characters again sometime!!

Jeff The Killer

🔪 very impatient and hotheaded, making talking to him not the easiest

🩸 has a bit of a southern accent - more noticeable when he gets mad and starts yelling

💀 never really apologized to liu but they still talk a little bit but he wishes they could be as close as they were when they were younger

🫀 Prop has many one night stands an isn't really interested in having a serious relationship with anyone

🔪 Doesn't like people arguing or loud noises so he always has headphones on him just in case he needs to cancel noise out

🩸 doesn't like people touching him especially when hes overwhelmed and if people do he usually get very triggered and flips out on people leaving him feeling guilty especially if its liu

💀 sometimes asks liu if he could sleep in his bed with him because his nightmares get really bad sometimes

🫀 favorite slasher movie is scream and one-time he dressed up as ghost face for Halloween and went out scaring little kids

🔪 he's actually really into the gyaru and y2k fashion but he will never admit it

.

Toby Rogers

🪓 Likes painting his nails different colors - its something he used to do with Lyra so he likes having his nails painting almost constantly

💀 Doesn't like the nickname "ticci toby" because hes insecure of his tics especially when hes meeting new people and he has to explain his tourettes to them

🔥 Has more of a western emo type of style

🗝️ Doesn't like to be around people who are drunk because it reminds him of his dad

🪓 Has to cut his hair very often because it grows super fast and it gets super curly and out of control

💀 likes when people he's close to pat his back or caress his hands when he's stressed to calm him down

🔥 wears a bunch of Lyra's old jewelry even though they are girly he doesn't really care

🗝️ Sees Tim and Brian kind of like father figures and is really close with them and often comes to them for advice

🪓 LOVES tim Burton films like he watches them year round, his favorite one is Edward Scissorhands

.

Ben Drowned

🎮 Has a terrible water phobia and gets mad when anyone jokes about it

💧 Doesn't really enjoy energy drinks to much but he does drink them if he wants to have extra energy (like he needs it)

🕹 Really misses his life as a normal kid and wishes he could've experienced a normal teenage life

👾 Loves um gardening if yk what i mean

🎮 Smokes with Jeff a lot so there kinda close

💧 Doesn't really sleep because he's a ghost and because he has nightmares of drowning so he usually doesn't unless he's mentally exhausted which is a lot of the time

🕹 he definitely bully's kids on Roblox and then hacks there account once they say something rude back

👾 HATES the perv allegations like so what if he has pictures of woman in his drawer like.. ( no I'm joking please don't get mad :) )

🎮 Sometimes hides in different electronics when he needs a break from everything

.

Bloody Painter

🎨 very soft spoken and doesn't really enjoy having conversations with others unless there close which it takes a long time for him to open up to people

🩸 Doesn't really see himself as a serial killer only as an artist

🖌️ gets aggravated easily with the other pastas so he usually traps himself in his room until hes hungry and needs to eat which he sometimes forgets to do if hes really into a painting hes working on

🎧 He likes more classical music especially when hes painting he also really enjoys jazz music

🎨 He doesn't like when people use his name because he doesn't like thinking about his past which his name reminds him of it

🩸 Not a huge fan of screaming so he Usually cuts his victims throats first so they cant scream plus he also gets a lot of blood for his paintings this way

🖌️ He enjoys drinking wine every now and then

🎧 The thought of having a partner scares him a lot since he probably has really bad attachment issues

🎨 can come of as rude and cold but he really just doesn't want to come of as sensitive and soft

Okay that's it for now hope you enjoyed!! I'll def do more of these with other creepypastas just request any if there's anyone you want me to do cuz I'll probably do the more popular ones first but I def wanna do the more underrated ones too!!

OKAY BYE BYE!!!

[belascrypt]

˚.⋆｡ﾟ☾ introduction ☽ ﾟ｡⋆.˚

bio 🕸️

cipher

he/him

age: 18+

blog information 🕸️

hello ! this is my blog for reblogging goth, horror, and general spooky content !! i am a baby bat, so any goth music recs/other info is welcome !!

navigation 🕸️

#ciphers stuff🦇 - my posts

#spellbound🦇- reblogs

#from the belltower🦇- text posts

#give me ur eyes🦇- photos

#its getting faster🦇- videos/gifs

#lucretia my reflection🦇- art

#tear you apart🩸- goth

#its a scream🔪- horror

#stay spooky🖤🕸️- gen

[ren-is-real]

Inanimate Insanity dash simulator (pre ep 16) (i will do more of this if this goes well probably)

🪁 inanimateinsanityfan Follow

does anyone ever get so tired they start seeing spiders lol

💼 su1tcas3 Follow

me when i lay down and hallucinate the horrors lmfao

🪁 inanimateinsanityfan Follow

what

💼 su1tcas3 Follow

Oh so this is not a safe place suddenly

2,369 notes

🪁 inanimateinsanityfan Follow

as an unbiased outsider im cheering for them both ^^ im so excited for the finale!!!!!!!!!!!

#idk what i'll do when this ends tbh #like damn. #we'll cross that bridge when we get to it!!

19 notes

💡 brightestlight Follow

any couple can be gay if they are bisexual and their genders are weird enough

🪁 inanimateinsanityfan Follow

why did you post this directly after talking to me and test tube

🪁 inanimateinsanityfan Follow

lightbulb why did y

11 notes

🎤 mic-row-phoen Follow

when you want to ask someone about something but the trek is IMPOSSIBLE and you will DIE (hes downstairs setting up a party im just scared)

🍊 orange-got-juiced Follow

i am not giving you the aux to play green day at the party

🎤 mic-row-phoen Follow

:(

🍊 orange-got-juiced Follow

ok. two songs

19 notes

🎀 rain-bowz Follow

when a fake girl tryna act like me but im the only one there is

⚙️ rowbotted Follow

REAL!!!!!

🎀 rain-bowz Follow

who are you.

📄pageperrr Follow

hey didnt you die. or something

23 notes

🌮absolutleynot-taco Follow

hey anyone know where pickle is haha. anyone know his room number or amything lol like it would justs be fun to know,,, hagaha,,,, yeagh

0 notes

🏆awinners-trophy Follow

imagine using a run down website that hasnt been relevant in YEARS. you all need to get off and go touch some grass or something jfc

🔪sharpest-tool-inthe-shed Follow

you're literally using it?

🏆awinners-trophy Follow

kill yourself

#you used to be cool man

19 notes

🎈coldairballoon Follow

i drew some vent art about old stuff.. im better now!! im just letting off some steam haha

🏆awinners-trophy Follow

this is so cringe

🎈coldairballoon Follow

you're cringe.

🍊 orange-got-juiced Follow

trophy just ran to the bathroom sobbing

27 notes

🌽 official-meeple-ceo Follow

greetings tumbler! i an steve cobs, C.E.O of the meeple company. i am looking to get in contact with a mephone! specifically mephone 4. (model 4s) any help is greatly appreciated!

🖌️ brushedpaint Follow

go back to twitter vro 💀

817 notes

⚾ thegrandslammer Follow

trying a healthier outlook on life!! i'll tell yall how it goes!!

⚾ thegrandslammer Follow

failed

⚾ thegrandslammer Follow

failed

⚾ thegrandslammer Follow

failed

8,270 notes

🪁 inanimateinsanityfan Follow

i miss egg :( i wonder where the other one the aliens mentioned went. i hope it found a parent that loves it as much as i loved egg. i mean i wasnt the best parent but uh you get what i mean

🌽 official-meeple-ceo Follow

😜

🪁 inanimateinsanityfan Follow

???????

🪁 inanimateinsanityfan Follow

??????????what??????????

#why is steve cobs on tumblr get off

15 notes

🕯 innerflamed Follow

i need a boyfriend except he's not a boyfriend and is just some weird british guy i drag around with me everywhere

1,393 notes

🍀fourleafluck Follow

diversity win!! corrupt capitalist CEO of multimillion dollar company steve cobs is bisexual!

🌽 official-meeple-ceo Follow

who informed you of this.

🍀fourleafluck Follow

I WAS??? JOKING??????

#GUYS??? #STEVE COBS GAY ICON??? #HOLY SHIT #IM SCREAMING ITS HIS OFFICIAL ACCOUNT ITS NOT A GIMMIC #meeple

23,105 notes

💡 brightestlight Follow

as a member of the lgbt we do not accept steve cobs

💡 brightestlight Follow

even when he changes the meeple logo to a rainbow during pride month we dont accept him

21 notes

☯ ringinginthenewyear Follow

☯ ringinginthenewyear Follow

just to clarify yang posted this not me -yin

57 notes

🥒 pickledposting Follow

steve cobs being bi and accidentally admitting to it on tumblr was not on my 2024 bingo card ???????

🌽 official-meeple-ceo Follow

you'll be first.

🥒 pickledposting Follow

what

29 notes

[sirensea14]

My honest reaction on seeing villain holly

Your hc's to them are quuuuuuiiiiiteeeeeeeeeeeeeeee..... (questionably) interesting. They have some (shady) business going on. I love itttt >:]]]]

If bendy broke dear Alice's heart, lemme punch him, i love him but i wil punch him if he does. But if its another demon *cracks knuckles* maybe a little bit of violence will help (bruh i--)

Smol ask, can u draw Holly's design in the Villains Au? Or just a little itty bitty mini sketches? I wanna see her more :]

And, uh, Alice too? Also i wanna know more about 'em:))

Day 13: Problem

Sorry for the late response! I honestly struggle with drawing women! 😅

I made this AU before I finished the labyrinth so Villain!holly is pretty much Mayhem.

So! After being expelled from Yen Sid academy for looking through private records and having her name practically scorned by the public, being fired by her job, and living practically homeless, Holly decided that she would start her own business of secrets.

She set up an interconnected network of information running through the majority of organizations, businesses, and government branches of the US through spies and favors. She runs her business finding and selling secrets. Blackmailing the rich, trading favors and secrets, manipulating the people who have things they don’t want to come to light to the public. She got the journalist whole publicly shamed her, Jeremy Fairfax, fired. And sued Yen Sid.

She and Bendy are good acquaintances, both work in similar fields and work quite well together as work partners, so Holly got on the quest because her knowledge in runes, ancient history, and literally everything had Bendy go to her for a little help. She became invested and fascinated by the quest and joined as an official member.

The questers then of course got the cog and Holly got possessed by it. The questers managed to restrict the cog’s powers and allow her to remain tied but still in control while using the cog to boost her abilities a bit to help with her rune magic so she can do more for the quest. And it allows Holly to study the parts a little better too.

(Also sorry I don’t have too much time to draw Villain Alice (AKA I’m scared to attempt to draw another woman and its 1:30 AM and Art block is creeping up on meeee TwT) So I’ll tell you her backstory bc I don’t think I ever shared it!

Now Alice is a bit more of a heartbreaking story. She was an innocent angel who went to the surface for her act of charity. In staying on the surface she fell for a demon. When the upper found out about her love for the demon they rejected her and she either fell or ran away from the Upper to live her life with the demon. I haven’t decided which outcome I’m going to do for her. But if i go with the first the demon she fell in love with was Bendy and she’s still in love with him. If I go with the second option the demon was either bendy or a random demon that we never know. Either way she runs away if it’s the demon we don’t know, then the demon breaks her heart and leaves her for dead. If it’s bendy he either leaves her and she’s really bitter about it or they’re still in love.

From there she begins to take a huge hold of the black market (you know, the ones that took her to the dark circus?) and starts running things her way. OR She starts some kind of rebellion against the Upper with other fallen angels. I haven’t decided.

Enjoy the doodly sketch! And I hope this answers your ask! Thanks!

[linos-luna]

Cameras 🔪

Yandere!Han x Reader

Warnings: YANDERE, violence, toxic behavior, manipulation, spying, 18+

———————————————— •

You sit at your desk, staring down at the open notebook, your fingers tracing its edges, but your mind is somewhere else. The house is quiet, a little too quiet, and that familiar, uneasy feeling creeps over you again. Lately, it’s like someone’s been watching you, even when you’re sure you’re alone.

You try to shake it off, just like you’ve done every other time, telling yourself it’s nothing. But deep down, you know it’s not just paranoia. The little things have been adding up. Your stuff is always out of place, your jewelry box lid half open, a photo frame slightly crooked. And Han… well, you had mentioned it to him once, but he brushed it off.

"You're stressed, Y/N," he had said with that charming smile. "You need to relax."

That smile you love. Now it just feels off.

Your eyes drift to your bedside lamp. Something flashes, just for a second, but you see it. You sit up, heart skipping a beat as you reach for the lamp. Unscrewing the lampshade, you freeze when you see it. A tiny, blinking red light. A camera.

What the hell??

Your pulse quickens as you stare at the small device in your hand. Why is there a camera here? Who put it here?

But you already know. You just don’t want to believe it.

Your breath comes in short gasps as you tear through your room. Behind the framed pictures, inside the air vents, even inside your stuffed bear. More cameras. Everywhere.

You feel sick. How long has this been happening? How much has Han seen?

Without thinking, you grab your phone and dial Han. The anger in your voice barely masks the fear. “Han, we need to talk. Now.”

It doesn’t take him long to show up. His face is full of concern—or is it something darker? You can’t tell anymore.

“What’s going on?” he asks, stepping inside like nothing’s wrong. Like he hasn’t been invading every second of your life.

You hold up the camera, your hand trembling. “Why are there cameras in my room?”

For a split second, something flickers in his eyes. And then, just like that, his mask drops. The concern fades, and what’s left makes your stomach twist.

“I did it to protect you,” he says softly, stepping closer. “You don’t understand. I need to know you’re safe.”

Your breath hitches in your throat. You want to scream, to cry, but all that comes out is cold, hard disbelief. "This isn’t protection, Han. This is control."

His eyes darken, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "You don’t get to walk away from me."

Your body tenses as he steps closer, too close. His hand shoots out, grabbing your wrist before you can react. Pain surges through your arm as his grip tightens.

“You’re mine, Y/N,” he growls, his breath hot against your face. “No one else will take care of you like I do. You don’t get to leave me.”

A wave of panic crashes over you, but underneath it, anger is building. You twist your wrist, trying to pull free, but his grip only tightens. The pressure makes your vision blur with tears.

“No, Han…” Your voice trembling with fury. “Y-you’re sick!”

Without thinking, you drive your knee up into his stomach, hard.

He lets out a grunt, doubling over just enough for you to yank your arm free. You stumble back, heart pounding, adrenaline flooding your system. But then Han straightens, his face twisting with rage.

Before you can react, his hand swings out, slapping you across the cheek. Pain stinging in your face, knocking you off balance. You crash into the dresser, books and other nicknacks scattering to the floor. Tears rolled down your cheeks as you whimpered a bit in pain.

He’s standing over you now, breathing heavily, his fists clenched, but then something shifts in his expression. His eyes soften, a flicker of regret passing over his face as he takes in your terrified look.

“Baby, I’m sorry!” Han pleads, his voice breaking. “Don’t cry, please! I-I didn’t mean to hurt you!”

The room spins as you force yourself up, your legs trembling beneath you. Your hand brushes against the dresser, and you grab the nearest thing, a heavy lamp. Without a second thought, you throw it at him.

It misses, crashing into the wall behind him, but Han still flinches, staggering back as he dodges. His eyes widen, and for a moment, you see hurt flicker there.

“Y/N? W-why are you trying to hurt me?” His voice trembles, and you pause, your heart pounding in your chest.

“You’re the one getting violent!” you shout, the words tearing from your throat.

For a split second, he looks like he’s about to cry, and something inside you twists painfully. He just stands there, staring at you with those sad, broken eyes, making your heart ache.

He’s manipulating you. You know it, you *know* it, but that pang of guilt creeps in anyway. You have to shake it off.

“Stop it, Han. It’s not working. Not this time.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, the softness drains from his face. The mask drops, revealing the cold, eerie calm underneath.

“Y/N…” he says, his voice unnervingly steady. “You know I love you. Everything I do is because I love you.” He takes a step closer, his eyes darkening. “And I’ll do anything for you.”

Han’s words hang in the air, thick and suffocating. His eerie calm sends a chill down your spine, but your legs won’t move. His eyes bore into yours, dark and unwavering, and you realize with a sickening jolt that there’s no reasoning with him. He’s beyond that now.

You back up slowly, your heart pounding in your chest. “Han… stay away from me.”

But he doesn’t listen. Instead, he takes another step toward you, his voice lowering into something soft, almost tender. “I’m the only one who can protect you, Y/N. Don’t you see? No one else will love you the way I do.”

You feel the wall press against your back, cold and unyielding. There’s nowhere else to go.

“Please, Han,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “Don’t do this.”

For a moment, his face softens again, but you know it’s a lie, just like before. He closes the distance between you in two long strides, grabbing your arms and pinning you against the wall. His grip is bruising, his breath hot and uneven as he leans in, his eyes glinting with something dangerous.

“Why can’t you just be mine?” he whispers harshly, his fingers digging into your skin. “Why do you have to make this so hard?”

Panic surges through you, but your body feels frozen. You struggle against his hold, but he’s too strong. His hands move to your throat, not tightening, but just enough to make you realize how helpless you are in that moment.

Your vision blurs with tears as you gasp for air, your body trembling under his hold. This is it, you think. It’s the end. You close your eyes in defeat, bracing for the inevitable as his hands apply light pressure to your throat.

But then, just as quickly as it started, the pressure eases. You blink in confusion, feeling his grip loosen. When you open your eyes, Han’s expression has changed… his face etched with guilt, sadness pooling in his eyes.

“Baby…” he whispers softly, his hands still hovering at your throat, but no longer squeezing.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you watch him look down at his own hands, as if seeing them for the first time. Tears start to roll down his cheeks, silent and slow, before he suddenly pulls you into a tight embrace.

“I-I’m sorry…” he sobs, his voice breaking.

His arms wrap around you, almost crushing you against him, and the sudden shift feels jarring. You can hear him weeping, his breath catching between sobs. The warmth of his body, the way he clings to you, it's so different from the rage that had consumed him moments ago.

You stand frozen, your body still shaking, unsure of what to do. Was this another trick? Another way to manipulate you, to pull you back into his control? Or… was he actually genuine this time?

It was hard to tell, and that terrified you the most...

[monarchberrysblog]

📄 — intrusion

now presenting…

🎭 kinktober | week two → mask kink and semi-public sex

🔪 ghostface! miguel o’hara x fem! reader 🔪

🩸 summary: run baby, run… (inspired from a tiktok. I tried to put the link, but I can't. Tumblr is being a butt rn)

🩸 content warning: reader and miguel are in an ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP (Y’all freaky frogs), predator/prey dynamic (kinda but not really tho), eccentric behavior on both parties, mask kink (?), anal and vaginal penetration, cat and mouse chase, fucking in the woods, rough sex, VIEWER’S DISCRETION IS ADVISED AND OOC MIGUEL

🩸 word count: +1.0k words (I had to cut this DOWN SIGNIFICANTLY OMG)

🩸 author’s notes: this was a fic that took a while to work on. viewer’s discretion is advised as this has very dark content as this displays essentric behavior on Miguel and the reader. (AGAIN, MIGUEL IS OOC)

📞 not proofread! 📞

link to → kinktober m.list

The anticipation killed you, nagging at you like a girlfriend pushing her ignorant boyfriend to spend time with her. After making an unexpected trip to Spirit Halloween with Miguel, the quips of mask kinks came into the store, specifically to the variety of Ghostface masks. The mask was still a prominent item to purchase, either bedazzled or showing its original look. But after the quips turned into a new thing to try, the clerk gave Miguel and you judging looks, with an employee smirking at Miguel. But here y'all were, in the middle of a thicket of woods behind a cabin you Airbnb-ed, after planning this night to the point it felt worn out like old converse to you and Miguel.

You mindlessly run deep into the woods with nothing but a tank top and underwear you picked. The race in your heart skipped a few beats, the pattern becoming unrhythmic and incomprehensible. The drumming became unbearable to withstand as your legs acted before a comprehensible thought crossed your little mind. His hands squeezed around your waist gently, causing you to squeak out into a fit of laughter.

His desire for you grew, seeing you in that white tank top waiting to be ripped off and accompanying the dead leaves. Pinning you down to the nearest tree, his fingers probed at your clothed entrance, the tips of his fingers tracing the slit-like entrance. “Estás tan mojada, hermosa.” He croons. His fingers bully their way past the gusset of your underwear, shoving the silky material to the side and shoving his fingers instead. Your pain moan filled the empty forest immediately, his fingers bullying their way in while his thumb circled tight, small circles around your clit, coaxing it to arousal.

The palm of his hand covers the bottom half of your face, shoving you against the scratchy, dry tree bark. “Keep it down. We don't wanna get uncalled attention.” He quips. He ooks deep into your eyes, and in the glisten in your eyes, he could have sworn to see little hearts in the shine of your eyes, intoxicated by his touch.

He moved his hand away from your lips and held onto the hem of the tank top before shoving said hem to your lips, shoving the cotton material between your teeth. You happily oblige, your teeth sinking into the cotton, your skin forming goosebumps against the dry material. “There we go.” His hands caress your figure, hand squeezing your breast and slapping it after.

His hand reached down his jeans, unzipping and freeing his aching, leaky cock, begging for your walls to vacuum him in. A perturbe idea came to mind, causing you to smirk and squirm free from his hold, rushing deep into the forest. His hushed profanity could be briefly be heard had his footsteps follow behind.

“Run, baby. Because when I catch you, you are going to be screaming.”

Being slammed down to the ground sucked the lungs out of both of y’all’s lungs. You giggled hysterically, feeling Miguel’s hands work quickly on the waistband of your panties. Being forced on your hands and knees stung, the dead leaves and sticks digging into your skin, but the warming boil in your lower stomach took over.

You involuntarily squirm your hips to free yourself from the soaking undergarment. “Mira lo mojada que estás para mi.” His fingers run down your entrance, collecting your sticky discharge on his fingers and coating his tip. “You’re such a good girl, aren’t you?” He exhaled through his teeth.

His hand is wrapped around the arousing length and taps his tip against your entrance. Glancing over your shoulder, you shoot an annoyed look. “Really?” You exhale the question. “Can’t go breaking, can’t I, cariño?” Miguel smirks, your cheek engraving a cheek mark on the loose dirt. You raise your rear to his hips, barely feeling his tip slip into your pussy. “No, not yet…” He chuckles, moving the tip upwards. “Just trust me on this.” He taps at your tight hole. “Okay…” You whine before the slow stretch and burn overwhelms you. “Jesus…!” You cry out, burrowing your face into the dead leaves. “You’re taking me so well, cariño.”

“You’re so big…” You babble to him as your fingers reach up to play with your needy pussy. “Tell me something that I don't know.” His voice purrs, shoving your hand away and using his instead, working on your puffy clit.

A string of profanity escaped your lips, keeping up with the overstimulation. “Your ass is gripping me like a vice, like it never wants to let me go.” Your hands grasp onto the dead leaves while your eyes roll up to your skull, the burning subsiding into pleasure. A breathless moan escaped, keeping up with the soft thrusts.

His fingers push in, bullying into your fluttering walls. “Good girl.” He purrs, his soft thrusts whiplashed you, sucking the air out of your soul.

The struggle was in the air as your lungs exhaled more air. Only soft, struggling groans escaped, barely strong enough to produce a moan.

“There we go, you're doing so well.” Miguel fetes, slowly retreating his fingers away from your greedy pussy. “Keep doing what you’re doing. Being a pretty little thing for me.”

The painful lights of white light brightened the environment. You glanced over your shoulder at the familiar pink phone case above you. “You look beautiful, querida.” He rasps, and his slow thrusts become harsh and rapid. Strings of profanity escaped both of y’all as you reached down to play against your clit instead. “Keep going…” He whispers. His hips snapped against yours, his balls slapping against the swell of your rear.

“I’m almost, almost there.” He exhales and yanks off the Ghostface mask, showing his sweaty yet glistening face. The perspiration dripped onto your backside, the sweat droplets rolling down your skin.

The barely comprehensible response you could produce, let alone give is the sound of a soft splash under you, landing on the decaying leaves. “I’m almost there…” He repeats before he pulls his cock out and groans. The new sticky warmth splattered against your back, allowing his semi-hard cock to rest against the plush of your rear. “You look so pretty, hermosa.” The shudder sound of the camera on your phone greets you back to reality.

“You look so pretty in the color white.”

tag list:

@hyjionie @zaunsin @kavimoo

[baekhyunsbestie]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 🎃 do you like scary movies? 🔪 .𖥔 ݁ ˖

a lil disclaimer before you dive in: this goes pretty dark. we’re talking obsession, stalking, breaking and entering, some seriously pervy vibes, and even murder. i just want to say that i absolutely do not condone any of this behavior in real life— this is all purely fictional and should stay that way, okay? if this typa story isn't your vibe, no worries!!!!! protect your peace and scroll on. take care of yourselves😚💞‼️

 ੈ✩‧₊ content: 18+/MDNI. 5.3k+ words. smut, language, baekhyun x f!reader--baekhyun is a psychologist and reader is a bakery owner, no ages specified, but i was thinking mid-late twenties!! they're also next-door neighbors 🙂‍↕️ hehe

baekhyun sits on the edge of his desk in his dimly lit home office, the dissertation on his computer screen long forgotten. his eyes drift to the sheer curtains, gently moving with the breeze from his open window. hours pass quietly, and his patience grows thin, stretched to its limit. hidden behind the ghostface mask, his deep brown eyes stay locked on you, his alluring neighbor next door.

outside, the world blurs into the background as he tunes out the laughter of the children in your care, his gaze completely captured by your captivating presence. earlier, he had seen the parents wave goodbye, their silly costumes hinting at a halloween party awaiting them. it was no surprise they chose you to babysit tonight; you were the life of the party, casting a spell on the kids in a way that even sabrina spellman would envy.

every movement of yours is etched into the chaotic corners of his mind. you embody perfection as you effortlessly play dress-up with the kids, sharing sweet treats and settling in for another tim burton film. that beautiful smile adorns your lips—a smile that, while it doesn’t quite reach your eyes, is enough. enough to delight the children, enough to maintain appearances. but baekhyun sees beyond the surface; he can read the subtle nuances that betray your true feelings. he knows that if these were your children—his and yours—you would shine with a warmth and devotion that’s unmistakable. the mere thought triggers a fire within him, sending a rush of desire coursing through his veins, and a low groan escapes his lips. but how could he ever convince you to have his kids when you don’t see him that way?

he knows he needs a plan—a way to draw you in and make you see the real him. in his mind, he's a catch, someone truly special. he tells himself he's a good guy, a smart one, too, with a promising career as a psychologist and a hefty retirement plan waiting for him. he believes he’s perfect for you, convinced that he could take care of you in ways no one else could. little does he realize, he’s always watching from the shadows, convinced that his intentions are pure, even as his obsession grows deeper.

and after all, he knows so much about you. he’s aware that you’ve recently moved here from a few towns over, stepping into a new life as a single woman with no kids. he would never forget seeing you for the first time. it was a sunny spring day, the weather was perfect, the moving truck parked in the drive way out front, while watching your family and friends help unload and organize the furniture in your new house. 

you’ve opened a small, cozy bakery, every pastry crafted with love and care. the warm, inviting space reflects your personality—painted in shades of your favorite color. scattered horror movie posters, especially scream, show your love for slasher films.

from his office window, he watches. he can see straight into your living room, where your tv bathes the room in a soft light. you’re always lounging on the couch in those tiny shorts that make his mind race. weekends are your time, dedicated to marathons of horror films, with scream playing over and over, clearly your favorite.

you’re all alone in that big house, and he can’t shake the feeling that you need him. he’d be the missing puzzle piece—fitting you perfectly. he imagines himself slipping into your life, the one who helps you at the bakery and shares your love for horror. he envisions nights where your screams of pleasure would align perfectly with the shrieks on the screen as he brings you to your climax, down on his knees before you, his head between your legs. 

baekhyun fondly recalls the day, just after your move-in, when the mailman mistakenly dropped your letters into his mailbox. a wicked grin spread on his face at the memory; finally, he could introduce himself. after thirty minutes of rehearsing his lines in front of the mirror, he stands at your door, donning his friendliest smile, excitement bubbling just beneath the surface. 

when the door swings open, he’s struck breathless by your presence—so devastatingly beautiful, you. he notices the broom in your hand, hinting that you’ve been tidying up. you wore denim overalls over a simple tank top. your hair is swept up in a claw clip, with a few loose strands gently framing your face. sweat glistens on your forehead, clinging to the sides of your cheeks, accentuating your expression of confusion.

“oh. um, hi? can i help you?” you ask politely, a hint of an awkward smile gracing your lips.

baekhyun snaps out of his daze, realizing he’s been standing there in silence. he clears his throat, shaking off the momentary haze before speaking, “hi, i’m your next-door neighbor, baekhyun. welcome to the neighborhood. um, i believe this is yours; it was in my mailbox.” he offers you the mail, his nervousness evident in his slightly trembling hands.

you invite him inside for a glass of lemonade, gratitude dancing in your eyes as you thank him for the mix-up. with a playful tone, you mention how you’re still getting used to the kindness of people in smaller towns. as you lead him to the kitchen, you apologize for the clutter of boxes and bubble wrap scattered around. he takes a seat at the table, casually glancing around while you fetch the drinks. his eyes wander to the living room bookshelf, where a few self-help books catch his attention. baekhyun, not missing a beat, shares that he’s a psychologist, mainly focusing on writing dissertations to bring fresh perspectives to cognitive psychology. you find his work captivating—so much so that you tell him, with genuine admiration, that people like him make the world a better place.

oh, if only you knew.

as you talk, you weave together the threads of your life—how you left everything behind after a painful breakup with the man you once believed would be you’d grow old and gray with. the memory stings, recalling how he would betray your trust with your best friend while you were away on business trips. you share how that heartbreak changed everything, ultimately guiding you to this charming old house that now feels like home. 

you explain how you quit your old job, a role that never truly fulfilled you. then, your eyes light up as you reveal your childhood dream of opening a bakery—a dream you’re finally chasing. you’ve even signed the lease for a cute little space right in the heart of downtown, a step closer to making that dream a reality. 

unbeknownst to you, as you sit beneath the soft glow of your kitchen light, baekhyun feels an overwhelming wave of desire wash over him. he’s rock hard beneath the kitchen table, ever since you opened the door and welcoming him in. he’s utterly entranced by the way your hands unconsciously glide over your bare thigh as you speak, igniting a fire within him. the light in your eyes sparkles with passion, your voice a melodic cadence as you share your visions for your bakery—the delicate pastries and savory sandwiches that will soon fill your charming shop. it’s all too much for him; you seem perfect—too perfect for this world.

then, as you lick the last drop of lemonade from the rim of your glass, the sinful thought of those same lips and tongue and how they’d feel on his aching dick pushes him to reach his climax. a shudder runs through him, and he bites back a groan, hiding it behind an exaggerated yawn. he blames it on the sleepless nights spent in research. thankful for the baggy black sweats he wears, he quickly excuses himself, a rush of embarrassment flooding his cheeks as he retreats, relieved that the fabric conceals the mess he’s made underneath.

after that, the interactions blend into casual small talk and fleeting waves of hellos and goodbyes, leaving him longing for more of those stolen moments with you.

he remembers spending hours diving into your social media after your first meeting, each scroll revealing new pieces of your story. in just a few hours, he learned so much about you. he knows your favorite foods, cocktails, and music, and he can name all the concerts and festivals you’ve attended, along with the places, dates, and people you went with. he’s familiar with all the vacations you’ve taken and the hobbies that make you smile. every like and dislike, every old post of you and your ex-boyfriend, painted a picture of who you are—one that captivated him completely.

thoughts of that past lover linger like shadows in his mind, the one you left behind in search of solace. the idea that someone could wound you so deeply, sending you fleeing to a new town, sets off a fierce rage within him. he clenches his fist around the knife resting against his thigh, its cold steel spinning slowly between his fingers, a dark reminder of the lengths he might go to. 

he could kill him. both of them—your douchebag ex and slut of a best friend. the thought excited him, a twisted thrill coursing through his veins. he imagined taking his time, savoring every moment as their lives faded away. a laugh might escape him as he’d watch the light leave their eyes, knowing he was doing it all for you—the love of his life. just the thought of your smile and the melody of your laughter quickened his heartbeat. he would go to any lengths to ensure your happiness, willing to pay any price to keep you safe. all you’d have to do is say the word.

just then, snapping out of his thoughts, the parents return, their footsteps echoing on the driveway before a knock sounds at the door. the children, who’ve been squealing with laughter all night, race to the entryway, eager to greet their parents, still decked out in their poorly chosen costumes. and finally—finally—they shuffle out one by one, leaving the house to fall into a peaceful, almost eerie silence, with only you left to occupy the night. 

this is it. the moment has arrived, the one he’s been anticipating all night.

baekhyun fished a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket, the hastily scrawled digits smudged and jumbled—a chaotic reflection of his flustered thoughts. these were the personal details he had picked up while lounging on his porch, book in hand and coffee in the other, absorbed in the quiet of the morning. he could still hear the rhythm of your breath from your daily jog as you approached your house, your voice lilting with familiarity as you chatted on your phone, casually reciting your number to the person on the other end. with a decisive flick of his wrist, he pulled out his phone, his fingers dancing across the screen with a fluidity born from habit, dialing your number with a sense of anticipation thrumming in his chest.

his gaze remained locked on the window, watching intently as you casually tossed a bag of popcorn into the microwave, the scent of buttery goodness soon filling the air. you moved effortlessly, rifling through netflix’s horror category, your face illuminated by the screen's eerie glow. the flickering light danced across your features, highlighting your concentration as you searched for the perfect scare to accompany your night.

his anticipation tightens the air, but you don’t even glance at your phone when it buzzes. the silence on your end feels louder than it should, and baekhyun’s jaw clenches. a low, guttural frustration threatens to escape his throat, his grip on the knife at his side growing dangerously tense. he draws in a deep breath, the cool metal pressing against his palm. stay calm, he tells himself. his pulse thrums in his ears as he gives you one more chance.

the microwave chimes, a cheerful reminder that your popcorn is ready. you open the door, the warm, buttery aroma spilling out like a cozy embrace, wrapping around you as you pour the fluffy kernels into a bowl. your gaze shifts to the phone screen—an unknown number flashes, irritation simmering just beneath the surface. "oh, fuck me," you mutter under your breath, barely loud enough to be heard. one of the kids must have left a toy behind again, refusing to sleep without it. you sigh at the thought, exasperation bubbling up as you reach for the phone, its persistent ringing cutting through the quiet.

"hello?" you answer, forcing a brighter tone, only to be met with silence—except for the faint, unsettling sound of heavy breathing on the other end. you have no idea that the caller is watching you through his window, eyes locked on your every move, his breath ragged as his hand strokes himself, utterly fixated on the sight of you.

you don’t let them get a word in. “go bother someone else, you freak,” you snap, cutting them off as you toss your phone onto the kitchen island with a frustrated clatter. leaning over the counter, you absentmindedly crunch popcorn between your teeth, your thoughts drifting. after hours of looking after a group of loud, sugar-fueled brats—who were mostly well-behaved—the last thing you need is some creep making prank calls.

when the phone rings again, a surge of frustration rises. you snatch it up, already preparing to unload a string of curses. but the words die on your lips the moment you hear the low, menacing voice on the other end. it snakes through the receiver, making your stomach drop. 

"you’ll be fucking sorry if ya do that again, sweetheart."

a sharp thud strikes the side of your house, the sound unsettling in the stillness of the night. your breath hitches, pulse racing. just a cat, you tell yourself, forcing down the panic that claws at your chest. you pull the phone from your ear, fingers trembling as you hover over the screen, daring yourself to hang up. you could call 911 in seconds. so fast. 

"don't test me." the voice on the other end, deep and edged with malice, seeps into your veins, freezing you in place. "or i'll have to come in there... and make you regret it." 

your throat tightens. compliance feels like your only option.

your mind is spinning with confusion, thoughts crashing into each other. are you really thinking about provoking this mystery guy, just out of curiosity? you've seen enough horror movies to know the warning: get too close, and you could end up cut to pieces the second he walks through your door.

“what do you want?” you manage to ask, your voice quivering like a fragile leaf in the wind, much to baekhyun’s delight. a smirk dances on his lips as he leans closer, tempted to retract his earlier words. the urge to break in and claim you overwhelms him, a primal instinct igniting within. the way you nervously bite your bottom lip and toy with the hem of your shirt suggests a part of you wouldn’t entirely mind if he did. he can sense it—the shiver in your breath, the heat rising in your cheeks—as if his voice alone is enchanting, stirring an undeniable desire deep within you.

the quiver in your voice sends a thrill through him, a captivating note of fear he savors like fine wine. “no need to be frightened, princess. don’t let those tears spill just yet,” baekhyun teases, his gaze piercing and calculating as he studies your every reaction. “just follow my lead, and i promise, nothing terrible will happen to you.” 

before you can form the words to question his intentions, he leans closer, a predatory glint in his eyes. “now, i want you to put on a little show for me. undress.” 

the thought of performing a sultry striptease for a mysterious, menacing stranger sends a thrilling jolt through you, awakening a passionate fire deep within. yet, it’s the image of your nosy neighbors catching even the slightest glimpse of the entire spectacle that truly makes your heart race, heat pooling low in your core. especially your irresistibly handsome psychologist neighbor—the one who sent your heart into a flurry the day he delivered your mail. the one who makes you blush every time you exchange a casual wave while jogging through the neighborhood, your pulse quickening at the mere sight of him. the one who occupies your thoughts late at night, a persistent whisper in your mind as you find yourself lost in fantasies, touching yourself in the shower, on the bed, and even on the couch. 

baekhyun, oblivious to this electric twist of your fantasy, doesn’t realize he wouldn’t need to intimidate you to stir this desire. just the thought of it has you growing increasingly wet, a delicious tension building with every pulse of anticipation. with a breathless flutter in your chest, you pull the phone away from your face, switching it to speaker mode to free your hands, your mind swirling with the provocative images dancing just beneath the surface.

“if you hang up on me again, i’m coming in, baby,” baekhyun purred, a playful smirk dancing on his lips as his gaze roamed hungrily over you. your heart raced as you slowly grabbed the bottom of your shirt and puling it over your head, revealing the smooth skin beneath, the absence of a bra heightening the tension in the air. the soft fabric slipped from your fingers, pooling on the hardwood floor like a forgotten memory.

“that’s right, angel. show me how soft those beautiful tits are,” you eagerly comply with his instructions, surrendering to the bewitching demands of the distorted voice on the line. your fingers find the hardened buds, pinching and teasing them, drawing out a moan that escapes your lips like a whispered secret. every touch is a spark of pleasure, a sweet indulgence for the faceless stranger lurking at the other end of the call.

baekhyun hums, the sound low and approving, sending a shiver straight through you. your mind races, painting vivid scenes of him pleasuring himself, every motion playing out in your head. "are you getting wet?" he asks, his voice thick with confidence and desire, completely unashamed.

“mhm,” you moan, the sound spilling from your mouth before you even realize it, your fingers swirling around the sensitive buds, lost in a haze of pleasure and anticipation.

“show me.” his voice drips with urgency, each demand more fervent than the last. your breaths come in shallow gasps, the heat of the moment thickening the air around you. you can almost envision him behind the glass, furiously pleasuring himself, absorbed by your every movement. a pang of desire surges within you as you long for him to emerge from the shadows, to reveal the beautiful mess he’s making of himself—flesh against flesh, desire laid bare.

“what's on your mind, princess?” baekhyun’s voice pierces the intoxicating silence, and you realize you’ve been lost in your thoughts, eyes tightly shut against the overwhelming sensation coursing through you. you feel a tingle ripple across your body, heat blooming in various spots as you instinctively begin to explore the terrain of your own desire, your fingers tracing the curves and dips that make you ache for him even more.

"how i love being bossed around like this." the words slip from your lips, dripping with a shameless allure, and the thrill of your own audacity leaves you breathless, too intoxicated to feel regret. a lush moan escapes as your fingers wander, seeking the neglected warmth between your legs, the rough fabric of your denim teasingly obstructing your touch. 

baekhyun’s eyes widen, a quiet laugh almost slipping out at how bold you’ve become. aren’t you an easy little thing? how fast did he get this unfiltered side of you to show—five, maybe six minutes? you moan softly in his ear as you find the perfect angle to touch yourself, waves of pleasure rippling through you. “oh, god,” you gasp, your voice shaky and soft. his breathing picks up, more frantic now, as he watches your every move.

“show me,” he murmurs, his voice a low, teasing whisper that cuts through the stillness of the night. “spread your legs in front of the window, let me watch you.” 

to his surprise, your anticipation matches his own. you lean back, pressing your spine against the side of the couch, ensuring your silhouette is perfectly framed for his hungry gaze. 

he watches closely, his breath catching as you slip out of your shorts, the fabric gliding down your legs. you obey his command eagerly, spreading your legs the moment you're free, revealing yourself to him. the air feels electric, every move adding to the tension between you, pulling him in like a magnetic force of pure desire.

baekhyun’s tongue glides over his lips, drawn to the enticing glimmer that dances on your most intimate folds. “touch yourself,” he commands, urging you to imitate him. you find yourself in the cozy confines of your living room, curtains drawn wide open, exposing you to the well-lit street where the remnants of the halloween night linger. it's well past midnight; the trick-or-treaters have long retreated to their homes. the thought of being caught sends a thrill through both your bodies, a delicious shiver that only heightens the atmosphere.

your fingers glide over your throbbing nub, a sense of urgency building within you as you quicken your pace. baekhyun’s voice breaks through the haze, showering you with praise that excites your desire even further, pushing you to explore your body with passion under his lustful gaze.

“that’s right, baby,” baekhyun murmurs, his voice a sultry whisper that sparks a flame deep within you, sending shivers straight to your throbbing core. his pet names wrap around you like a velvet ribbon and you can’t get enough of it. “ya look so sexy, playing with your pretty pussy for me, princess. she’s drenched for me—so fucking soaked, just from the sound of my voice. you’re leaking onto those floors, all for me, aren’t you?”

he huffs into the phone, the breathless sound thick with need, feeling himself teetering on the edge of bliss. baekhyun fights the urge to shut his eyes, longing to immerse himself in the sensations you’re creating, but he can’t bear to miss a single moment of your tantalizing display. instead, he leans into his words, weaving a web of longing to stave off the impending climax, each syllable dripping with desire.

you’re caught in a fit of sobs and whimpers, completely unable to rein in your emotions. unconsciously, you part your legs as wide as they can go, igniting a delicious burn in your thighs that only heightens your desperation. “you don’t feel embarrassed? hah. playing with yourself like this for a stranger?” his words, juvenile and taunting, only fuel your growing need. you swallow back a sharp retort, wary of the consequences of your attitude. instead, your fingers continue their relentless assault on your clit, a forbidden pleasure that leaves you breathless and craving more.

“i-i wouldn’t usually—hnnnghh” your words falter, swallowed by a breathy moan that escapes your lips, the rest of your sentence fading into oblivion. desire surges through you as you feel yourself teetering on the precipice of pleasure, mirroring his own urgency. in that moment, the conversation drifts away, leaving only the sweet sound of your shared, exasperated moans hanging in the air, a testament to the intoxicating connection between you. “but how could i resist? i like you telling me what to do. mmm, and i bet your real voice sounds even sexier.”

baekhyun grunts, his breath hitching as he grips himself, thumb gliding over the sensitive slit and spreading precum across the flushed tip. “don’t worry. you’ll find out soon enough, i promise,” he rasps, his voice low and rough like gravel. you can feel the urgency in his movements, hear the slick sound of his hand moving faster, and even though you haven’t seen his face, the vivid image of his throbbing cock, his eyes fixed on your trembling, bare body, consumes you. your vision fades to white, a wave of ecstasy crashing over you as you give in to the pleasure, squirting onto the window and leaving shiny streaks behind.

baekhyuns groans in your ear, his voice dripping with reckless abandon, echoing through the stillness of the night. he’s completely devoid of class, his primal instincts overpowering any sense of decorum. as he reaches his peak, he releases himself with a fervor that sends a cascade of warmth spilling across the window of his office, just as you did. 

breathless, he watches you through a haze of lust, his eyes heavy-lidded yet filled with a playful intensity. you bite your lip, a gesture that betrays your yearning for more, your body aching for repeated waves of ecstasy. is it possible you don't want this night to slip away into oblivion? 

“huh. i didn’t think i could do that,” you think outloud watching your juices slowly drip down the window.

“i bet ya could do it again. how ‘bout we use my fingers this time? if you’re a good girl maybe i’ll use my mouth, too.” he teases, a mischievous smirk dancing on his lips. you can't help but shake your head and roll your eyes at the audacity of this mystery man on your phone.

“awwww, why not?” he whines, his tone dripping with mock disappointment. “don’t ya trust me?” his teasing banter lingers in the air, crackling with unspoken desires, making you feel breathless with anticipation.

you can’t quite wrap your mind around how he can ask you a question like that, as if the two of you aren’t complete strangers. it’s as if the memory of his earlier threats has been wiped clean, leaving only the enticing edge of his voice in its place. some twisted part of you takes the reins, shoving your common sense aside. “i’ll treat ya right,” he promises, his tone smooth like velvet. 

your eyes drop, embarrassment flooding through you as you notice the wetness he's drawn out of you with nothing more than his voice. a tightness forms in your chest, the fear of feeling foolish creeping in, but your arousal only grows, pushing aside any doubt. the tingling in your clit fades, shifting into a steady, throbbing rhythm—an unspoken invitation.

baekhyun watches with a teasing spark in his eyes as your shaky legs carry you toward the front door. in no time, he’s outside, making his way to you. he hears the soft clatter of you fumbling with the lock, and when it clicks open, it feels like an unspoken invitation for him to step inside. the tension between you hums, daring him to close the gap and take control, face to face. the air crackles with the thrill of giving in, charged with a magnetic pull that’s impossible to resist.

you fling the door open, and there he is—a tall figure standing silently in a ghostface costume. your eyes trail over him in confusion, pausing when they land on his shoes. you know those sneakers. the kind hypebeasts chase after, selling for a fortune after retail. only one person on this block would own them. only one.

and you’re sure you saw him earlier today through that very window your orgasm stains, wearing those exact shoes, hauling bags of groceries into his house.

“baekhyun?” you breathe, suddenly feeling small. a flutter of butterflies coursing through your stomach as your gaze lands on his right hand, gripping his phone. your number is glaringly lit on the screen.

“trick or treat?” his voice dances like a playful tune behind the mask, a teasing reminder of the pleasure he just gave you. he slowly lifts the mask from his face, letting it rest atop his head, revealing a smile so radiant it could light up the empire state building. the smile feels oddly out of place, totally clashing with the filthy phone call you just shared—a side you'd never expect from a psychologist.

and then it hits you—you don’t truly know him. you have no idea that, when you're not around, he slips the spare key hidden under the rock in your front yard and lets himself into your home. you’re oblivious to him wandering through your space, climbing the stairs to your bedroom, rifling through your drawers, trying to piece together the mystery of who you are. he’s desperate to learn you in ways your belongings might reveal.

you’d never guess that while you’re out early in the morning, heading to the bakery before dawn, he’s inside, using that same key. one hand is wrapped fisting himself while the other clutches your worn underwear, pressed against his nose, inhaling your scent like it’s the only thing keeping him alive.

you remain completely unaware of it all. as his eyes lock onto yours, heat rushes to your cheeks, creeping up the back of your neck. 

you end the call, watching his screen fade to black, the sudden silence feeling heavier than it should.

wait, when did you give him your number? 

a shiver runs down your spine, an uneasy tension settling in. you try to push it away, but the feeling lingers like a whisper in your mind, urging you to stay on guard. you shake your head, convincing yourself you’re overreacting. it’s a small town; everyone knows each other. he must have gotten your number from someone else. or did you give it to him when you first met? maybe he found it on your bakery's instagram. yup, that has to be it.

feeling a surge of reassurance, you smile back at him. “i didn’t know psychologists enjoyed dressing up for halloween and playing pranks. i always thought doctors were above that,” you tease, your heart racing as he gazes down at you, a predatory glint in his eyes, as if he’s about to destroy you in the most tempting way imaginable.

“there’s a lot you don’t know about me,” he replies, stepping confidently into your home and locking the door behind him. his voice is low and inviting. “why don’t i show you?”

he slides the ghostface mask back on, the sinister smile of the mask contrasting with the anticipation in the air. he steps closer, backing you into the living room, his hands slide to your waist, his thumbs drawing soft circles on your sides, sending a rush through your body. you can feel your heart pounding, the air between you buzzing with tension. you bite your lower lip, trying to hide a smile, but the excitement overflows, slipping out as a playful grin.

"you can do whatever you want with me," your voice low and dripping with promise as you guide him toward the couch. the low hum of tension crackles in the air as you straddle him, sinking onto his lap. the air is thick with tension as you settle onto his lap, straddling him. the moment your thighs meet his, you feel his hardened length pressing against your skin, lighting a surge of heat that races straight to your core. his hands glide up the smooth skin of your thighs until they reach your ass, where he cups you firmly, squeezing gently. your breath hitches, the sensation flooding you with anticipation as your body responds to the undeniable pull between you two. the sensation stirs something deep within, wetness pooling between your legs.

"but please, don’t kill me, mr. ghostface..." you whisper softly, your warm breath brushing against his neck, your lips almost touching his skin. you glide them upward, the gentle, teasing contact sending shivers of excitement between you. when you reach the curve of his ear, you linger just long enough to spark an irresistible shiver through him. “i wanna be in the sequel.”

 ੈ✩‧₊ a/n: thank u to this anon for the idea!!! i didn't think i would ever write something like this, but here we are. #neversaynever i guess. oh, and a happy halloweenie to those who celebrate!!!!! <3 what are you dressing up as? stay safe my precious babies love u lotz mwah

ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* masterlist ° ᡣ𐭩 .