#scream x black reader

[blackynsupremacy]

IDK WHO GON DO IT BUT YALL NEEDA DO IT

[blackynsupremacy]

i’m soooo glad this updated! i remember staying up til 6 am one night over the summer to read this. if you’re a black girl that loves 1996’s scream, you gotta read this series. i highly recommend it.

Red Licorice: Chapter 11 - Black Widow

“You sure as hell won’t tell me what to do!” - (Y/n) (L/n) 

11

(Y/n) rushed into her home filled with elation for the first time in weeks. Glancing along the clock in the living room corner, she looked to see the time. At three thirty-six pm, she had about three hours to wash, shave, and lightly press her hair out. Now normally the girl was reluctant to bring out the hot comb and curlers, but for god's sake did she not want this moment to show out for her crush to pass her by.

And possibly make a certain Macher's eyes wander towards her. Of course, she wouldn't admit it out loud though. 

Moving through the kitchen she whipped out a fresh banana from the fridge along with two eggs and mayo. Placing the items on the table, she hurried to the bathroom pulling out an array of hair products for her scalp Blue Magic and Hot Six Oil Before grabbing the portable hair dryer. Making sure she had all the materials she began mixing the hair mask in a bowl on the kitchen counter, not only would this ensure more stretch of her hair for her silk press, but it would also add extra shine as well. 

While dispersing and covering sections of the mask unto her hair, she quickly went over the various items in her closet in her head. What the hell was she supposed to wear at a party? It would be her first time at a house party and she wanted to make sure she was doing everything right. Maybe she should wear the skirt again. As she thought about it she quickly dismissed it, she didn't want the others to think she didn't have any more clothes. The goal was to most definitely wear something eye catching, irresistible to the male gaze. 

Thinking back to her father’s vintage worn out shirts, there was an oversized tee that was faded black with a baseball tee, and remembering the dusty blue daisy dukes from her mother that could complete the look. Maybe she could cut the shirt and crop it like she's always done. Firm in her decision she went back to her hair making sure it was fully covered before setting up a hot comb in the kitchen with heat protectant. The plan was to press her hair to silk threads to last, so that way it'll be nice and fresh for the party.

(Y/N) entered the darkened bathroom, closing the door swiftly behind her. Switching on the bathroom light, the built-in shower radio crackled to life, filling the small space with the smooth melody of an old R&B song. The raven-haired girl stared at her reflection briefly, the lyrics of the song echoing in her mind: 

The girl is mine.

 The familiar scent of Nag Champa incense, a relic from the metaphysical store her mother used to frequent before her untimely demise, filled the air, adding a comforting yet bittersweet touch to the room.

She sighed deeply, pulling her hair into a loose bun to keep it out of the way. This afternoon was a timely transformation, containing a ritual she both dreaded and cherished. Wash Day. She turned on the shower, waiting for the water to reach the perfect temperature, steam beginning to fill the room.

(Y/N) stepped into the shower, the warm water cascading over her skin, washing away the stress of the day. She reached for her favorite shampoo, working it into her scalp with practiced ease. The rich lather and the soothing scent of lavender filled her senses. Next, she applied a generous amount of conditioner, detangling her curls with a wide-toothed comb. Each stroke felt like a gentle caress, unraveling the knots not just in her hair, but in her mind as well.

After rinsing out the conditioner, she reached for her body wash, a luxurious shea butter blend. She massaged it into her skin, reveling in the creamy texture and the way it left her skin feeling soft and hydrated. The shower water flowed over her, creating a symphony of splashing sounds that combined with the music from the radio, creating a serene atmosphere.

With her skin thoroughly cleansed, (Y/N) carefully shaved her legs and underarms, the razor gliding smoothly over her skin thanks to the rich lather. The process was almost meditative, each motion deliberate and calming. Once finished, she rinsed off and turned off the water, stepping out into the steam-filled bathroom.

She patted her skin dry with a plush towel, the scent of the Nag Champa incense still lingering in the air. (Y/N) then applied her favorite body oil, a mixture of coconut and jojoba oils, working it into her skin with gentle, circular motions. The oil left her skin glowing and deeply moisturized. She followed up with a thick layer of cocoa butter lotion, sealing in the moisture and leaving her skin feeling silky smooth.

Next came her hair. (Y/N) unraveled her bun and divided her hair into sections, applying a leave-in conditioner and heat protectant. She used a blow dryer with a comb  attachment, carefully drying each section. The heat was just right, transforming her wet curls into soft, wavy tendrils landing on towards her mid back.

The routine was almost complete when the shrill ring of the phone cut through the peaceful atmosphere. It came from the kitchen, startling (Y/N). She froze, the sound jarring against the serene atmosphere  she had just created. The phone rang again, insistently. There was a brief toil of her decision weighing down on her currently, the last couple of times she answered the phone it didn't bode well for her in the end. The only result of a fairly ‘happy ending’ was with the masked man holding her and touching the most intimate parts of her body. 

At first she opted to just ignore it, continuing her routine starting to plug in her curlers and securing her hair with silver clips. They were split off into groups of four, freshly blown out hair ready to be turned into silky threads. She began to grab her hot comb when the sharp sound of the phone stung her ears once more.The telltale ring of the house phone set her heart in a frenzy. As her heart hammered in her chest, she glanced at the door of the bathroom weighing her options. It was only the afternoon, not even six o'clock yet, still bright outside. There was plenty of light to deem it safe for now.  Wrapping herself in her towel, she hurried out of the bathroom, fresh oil glistening on her skin. As she approached the kitchen, the ringing seemed louder, more urgent. She hesitantly picked up the phone, her breath bated with anticipation. 

"Hello?" she answered, her voice trembling slightly. The line crackled for a moment, and then there was silence. She strained to hear, but there was only the faint sound of static. “Hello? Aunt Gia is that you?” 

There was shuffling over the phone along with the sound of a hushed voice quite distant from the mouth piece. The clawing feeling of the need to hang up started to rise within her, after the past two days she really shouldn’t be answering any phone calls. Nerves rising she tried to be rational, maybe it was one of her friends nervous to check in on her after everything that happened this morning. There was also the possibility of her aunt wanting to check in on her knowing that she should be home by now, or possibly Randy making sure about the time. 

Honestly the killer would have to be stupid to call her in broad daylight. So with a soft sigh the girl tried one more time. 

“Randy is that you–,”

“IF YOU MENTION THAT IDIOT IN MY PRECENCE AGAIN I WILL SLIT HIS FUCKING THROAT UNDERSTAND?!” 

(Y/n) froze on the spot, her heart accelerating at an abnormal pace as she quickly covered herself more in the towel, feeling a familiarity of the night terror from the other night. Feeling the heated shame swell within her with being so careless she turned her head back and forth, looking around the kitchen and living area to see anything out of place. It was horrible that she was wearing even less clothing than the nightmare she had before, the last thing she wanted was a repetition of…. dubious affection. She quickly took notice of the knife's all being within the rack still untouched from the morning breakfast Gia cooked her this morning. Grabbing one quickly, she made way to the living room, hovering slightly to the front door, just in case she needed to make a quick run for it. 

“I said, do you understand (Y/n)?” The killer growled into the phone. 

The girl began to slowly nod only to realize that he couldn't see her, or at least she hoped not, and proceeded to answer, “Y-yes…I understand.” 

“Good girl,” She heard the praise over the phone causing her thighs to clench slightly, taking note that she was still very much naked underneath her towel. Humiliation and shame emerged from the reactions her body emitted, her core starting to throb along with the heated condensation down below. Swallowing hard, she gripped the knife tighter, grounding herself back to the current situation. “Now that we've gotten the unpleasantries out of the way, I would like to apologize for my behavior in the bathroom two nights ago–” 

“Is this some kind of joke?” She uttered into the phone, her frustration rising. The feeling of deja vu grew strong, the recounter of the vivid sleep situation that continued to haunt her was now occurring in real time. The shower, the phone call, the apology….the only thing missing was the couch.  “I've already lived this scenario…..where are you? I'm going to call the police and make a run for it, clothes or not–“

“You don’t have any clothes on? What an interesting fact to share with a killer over the phone ya little tease.” 

(Y/n) paused with her hand on the door, simply frozen in place. How was she making so many dumb mistakes? Telling the killer that she was scantily clothed? Why did she make the assumption that he could even see her? Because in the dream he was within the house? Was her fear really clouding her judgment? 

“You…you can't see me?” 

“If it makes you feel better I unfortunately can’t, I have ….other things to attend to at the moment.” The soothing voice of the male drew her in, a weight slowly leaving her shoulders at the brief confession. It was a good thing he couldn’t see her, and even to throw in the fact that he wasn't there as well. “Although it doesn't mean I don't want to see you any less precious. Don't get yourself all riled up now, we're just having a conversation.”

“A conversation? Why? What do you want from me? Listen if I said or did anything the past to warrant this I’m so sorry–” 

“Woah. Slow down, you never did anything wrong. In fact, out of the whole town you seem to have a good head on your shoulders…hence why I have a request.” 

(Y/n) scoffed bitterly, “You're asking me for something after killing my best friend? Do you hear how ridiculous that is?!” 

(Y/n) felt herself shake slightly in her towel, her nerves had caused her to quickly make an error regarding the simple information spewed from her lips. Her face was warm, eyes beginning to glass over in fear for what the strange man wanted from her. One minute it seemed as though he wanted to kill her easy and simple. Now he was trying to soothe and apologize for his behavior? As if his apology would excuse the death of Casey and near death experiences of her and Sidney. Just what the hell was going through the mind of this ghost faced killer? 

“When you put it like that you do have a point sweetheart, although it wasn't my intention to scare you…let's remind ourselves…who attacked first and got in the way.” 

“Wha-what do you mean–”

“ You aren’t my target….you just happen to place yourself at the scene of the crime. Hence why I’m getting to the other point as to why I’m calling.” The man growled into the phone, “Don’t go to Machers Party tonight.” 

The girl paused for a second, her heart pumping, “Who said I was going tonight? How do you know I was even invited?” (Y/n) was starting to grow weary with just how much the male knew about her. First he accused her of getting in the way of Sidney’s murder claiming she’s not a target, now he’s telling her not to go to Stu’s house for the party? 

Just what did this guy want from her?

A part of her wants to feel thankful that she wasn’t on the man’s hit list, however her brow furrowed in worry as to why he specifically chose to spare her. What could she have done to warrant such attention from the mysterious male either way? Did she express kindness to him and decided to press it forward? 

The girl's mind wandered to the night in the bathroom. The cool sensation of the knife dragging up her thigh, the protruding length constricted in his pants brushing against her-

“Earth to (Y/n)! Didja hear me?”

“Huh?”

The male scoffed impatiently on the other end of the line, “I said it doesn't matter how I know, you’re not going. Now you're going to call that nerd Meeks and tell him you’re no longer going after this call. You’re going to stay your pretty like behind home and–”

“No.”

There was a pause. 

“No?” The strange man's tone seemed to mock (Y/N)’s abrupt rejection of staying . 

“What did you just say (N/n)?” His playful tone transformed into a malicious warning. However the teen girl gripped the cord in her grasp tightly, her pink palms turning white with vengeance. 

She wasn’t going to allow the killer the satisfaction of bossing her around. Creep or not. She knew what he was doing, he wanted her to let her guard down, to believe that he’s on her side and that he means no harm. Only for him to come into her home later and kill or possibly rape her. As a horror fanatic she wasn’t dumb. What kind of killer who works alone as well as his stature comes into a party full of teens and starts killing them all? He wasn’t tall or as big as Micheal Myers or Jason Vorhees. He’d be walking into a suicide mission, the teens at the party would overrule him easily and he would be caught by the police within the next few minutes with them on patrol around Woodsburro. 

“Nice try, I’m not falling for that trick! I will admit you had me for a second, wanting me to believe you meant me no harm so I would stay  home so you would have the opportunity to kill me!” Her voice grew louder and more confident with each sentence spewing from her lips in distaste, “I’m done letting people tell me what to do! You sure as hell won’t tell me what to do! ”

The masked man made an uncomfortable sound, one that made her heart thump in her ears with how desperate the tone initially sounded as it vibrated against her ear canal. “Precious, please just listen–”

“No! Everyone has had a chance to speak for me! It’s time for my moment to take a stand for myself, I’m going to that party! I might even get drunk and make out with a guy or two while I’m at it!” The proclamation was a bold one, one to simply rile the dangerous masked man on the other side for good measure to display how serious she was about going. A part of her wanted the imagery to spark something in the male, the one that seemed to have a connection to her somehow on the other end. 

“WHAT DID YOU JUST–”

In fear and newfound determination (Y/n) abruptly hung up the phone silencing the killer's response to her proclamation. For two minutes she stood there staring at the phone, wondering if she made the biggest mistake in her entire life-or the most life changing. She just got done telling off a serial killer in order to go to her first house party, and oddly–it felt so good.

She gave it another three minutes to see if the masked man would call again before heavinging a sigh of satisfaction. He possibly was in a fit of rage at her at the moment— after all he did seem like the type that didn't want to be spoken over. Not only that if he truly was planning something tonight, he wouldn’t be able to follow through with his plans due to her being there, a double edge sword waiting to slay him at each point. Looking around the house to make sure there wasn't anything odd and out of place, she deemed the house safe enough for her to finish off her routine. Due to the phone call she had an hour and thirty minutes left to get ready. 

Now, where was she?

Adjusting her towel in the kitchen, she sassed walked her way back to her room in elation for the second time this week. Head seat on giving herself a night she wouldn't forget as well as her peers. 

If only she knew she was indeed correct, this wasn't going to be a night she was never going to forget as long as she lived.

~ ☿ ~

Sidney rested her head against the window of the police cruiser. The town was currently desolate, only a few people here and there grabbing what they needed before the new impending curfew. Signs were hung up in window sills in explanation, turns out business owners were taking things seriously as well, and who could blame them? A killer was at large and it could be anyone. The last thing they want to do is be open and they come in blazing for a slice or dice. 

“God look at this place,” Sidney grimaced, “it's The Town That Dreaded Sundown.” 

Dewy chuckled to make light of dark circumstances, “Hey, I saw that movie. Based on a true story, ‘bout some killer in Texas.” 

“Hey Sid, just think if they make a movie about this, who's gonna play you?” Tatum smiled. The strawberry blonde was trying to make light of current events happening lately, Stu hasn’t been answering her calls after the invitation in the courtyard, and she basically had to endure evil looks from many students today in light of things. She honestly could feel the weight of her decisions weighing down on her. 

Tatum didn't want to be viewed as the girl who went behind her friends back and slept with their boyfriends, nor the one that lashes out because of her insecurities. The girl did have many faults of her own to deal with, many including her own self esteem, but  Casey���s dairy added more problems than she could deal with. And was that was putting things lightly 

What happened to her? She used to be okay with just being herself, dressing up and ready to hang out with friends. When did she start becoming boy crazy and having a vendetta against her two friends? The jealousy and malice were things developed over time against (Y/n) and Casey. They seemed to have so much, loving figures, adoring friends, beauty….

Even though (Y/n) never looked at her potential fully, it was no secret she was beautiful. So when Tatum assessed the way Stu watched her over and over again, it clicked but she didn't want to affirm it. She didn't want to know that the girl harbored her crush's heart, that he was secretly wishing it was her he was having sex with, kissing, loving on without actually saying the words back to her. 

“Oh god no…..,” Sidney whispered, “Don’t bring that idea up to (Y/n), she most definitely would tell me the details.” The brunette paused, watching her best friend's smile drop instantly at the girl's name. She winched realizing her mistake of salted wounds still being harbored. 

“A shit-shoot, I’m sorry Tatum-” 

“There's nothing to be sorry about ....I did this to myself. I got in the way and now,” She turned to Sidney, a sad expression etched upon her lips, “I have to face the repercussions.” 

Dewy peered through the mirror sadly at her sister. He wished there was only more he could do for her suffering but what could he do? Half of the things she was referring to he hadn't experienced himself. 

He brings the car to a stop in front of the police station, turning around and giving the girls the most brotherly smile he can muster for the situation. “Well to continue our conversations from before,” He said turning to Sid, “I see you as a young Meg Ryan myself.” 

Sidney offered a small upturn of the lips in  gratitude, “Thanks Dewey, but with my luck they’d cast Tori Spelling.” 

The two girls get out of the car making their way to the supermarket across the street. The Grocery store was a buzz for many teens grabbing quick snacks and beers for an apparent occasion. Sideny could hear the hustle and bustle about horror movies as well as the documentary marathon. The two grab a buggy from the bin before making their way through the sliding glass doors.  Unfortunately for Tatum it was the news about something else that drew her attention. 

“What should we wear to the party tonight? I'm pretty sure Evan will be there, after all it's not everyday Macher throws a party..” A brunette with glasses whispered to her redheaded friend over by the ice cream department they were passing. 

Yes, right the party….

The one Stu invited them to show no hard feelings. The only reason Tatum grew interested was the promise to talk things over there with him. Why? A small part of her hoped for the truth: an explanation as to why things fell apart between the two of them so fast. Although the girl assertions to the male with being responsible for the current scandal, she simply didn't want to acknowledge her part in the drama. 

Sidney looks at Tatum, her face growing queasy, “Do you think Billy will be there tonight?” 

“He better not be, although I didn't tell Stu to keep his mouth shut when I had the chance, I think we can live without “ Everybody's All American” for one night.” Tatum snided looking at a pair of chips before making her way down the aisle.  

The girls started piling in a whole bunch of junk food and treats for the night. Taking note of the long line of teens at the cash register, due to the curfew the store would be closing in a few minutes. 

Sidney’s mind traveled back to a certain girl with curly hair, “Do you think (Y/n) will be there?” 

Tatum paused for a moment, her heart hammering in her chest before responding, “(Y/n) and parties don’t go together. We all know that.” 

The brunette started to nod in agreement but thought better of it, “But what if she decides to come? Stu did invite us out as an apologie was well you know, wouldn't it make sense he convinced her as well—” 

“Do you honestly think after us being shit friends that she would actually want to be around us?” The strawberry blonde hissed with venom, her eyes seemed steamy at the thought of the curly headed girl staring at her, “I-I mean after what I did? After what me and Stu did? After what me and you did?!” 

Sidney frowned and paused with a two-liter of Pepsi in her arms, “What happened that night at that sleepover wasn't my idea, let's be clear about that.” 

It was true. Tatum was the one who decided to come up with the plan to corner (Y/n) in the first place, Sidney only had a few small concerns with her and Billy’s friendship, but the way Tatum made it seem like the curly girl had ill intentions. Sidney will admit that she went along with it, but she honestly thought it would be discussed in a more appropriate manner. Never did she want the outcome to happen that night the way it did with (Y/n) crying into Casey’s arms the rest of the night. The girl was a lot of things with her friends, some might even consider her a follower at some moments. However, this discussion and the way it was headed between the two of them had to set matters straight. 

Sidney loved Tatum, with her whole heart and soul; but she needed to learn to take accountability. 

Tatum paused the cart, her face growing pink, “You had concerns just like me! I thought it was the right thing to do!” 

“Your jealousy made you cloud your judgment–” 

“I’m not jealous!”

Onlookers in the store stopped and paused looking over at the two girls. Sidney stiffened watching the attention being drawn to the two of them before hearing the faint whispers. Great, the last thing she wanted was for word to get around about her and Tatum having a disagreement. 

Sighing and growing tired of her friend's display of fanatics, Sidney grabbed the cart from the blonde and made way to the line. It seemed like a moment for Tatum to recollect herself before following, wrapping her arms around herself in comfort. A few girls were glancing over, whispers exchanged with giggles. 

Changing the subject back to herself, Sidney whispered  “Billy’s right you know. Whenever he touches me I just can't relax.”

Tatum slightly rolled her eyes, “So you have a few intimacy issues as a result of your mother’s  untimely death.” Despite the tense air between the two she proceeds to place a comforting hand on the girl's shoulder, “It’s no big deal. You’ll thaw it out.” 

“Yeah, but he has been so patient with me you know with all the sex stuff. How many guys would put up with a girlfriend who’s sexually anorexic?” 

“Randy…” The blonde uttered. 

“Huh?” 

“Billy and his penis don't deserve you, all right?” Tatum spoke up disregarding her thought a moment earlier. “If sex is the thing stopping your relationship then maybe….” 

Sideny glanced at her best friend, her heart hammering��waiting for the words she was anticipating from her friend's mouth “Then maybe?”

“Then maybe you two should bring your items forward,” A checkout lady cut into the conversation, “We close in five, and there's a line behind you.” 

The two girls' faces grew warm and quickly proceeded to place their items quickly onto the checkout counter. 

The elderly woman shook her head, displeased, “Kids these days.” 

~ ☿ ~

Dewey stalked up to the station quickly, trying his best to check in with the sergeant before picking up the two girls in time for curfew. It had honestly been a long day after so many things were happening down at the police station.  After the many interviews from the press as well as the occasional suspect pointed here and there, it was safe to say the other officers had a lot of pressure on this particular case. 

A lot more than the past two large ones they had in the past might add.

Taking a puff out of his cigarette Sheriff Burke glared at the upcoming deputy, “Dewey? Where the hell have you been!” 

“I was keeping an eye on Sidney, uh…” The Sheriff looked down at Dewey's hands spotting the ice cream cone clearly displeased with the sight. If the male wasn't so concerned about his sister's best friend he wouldn't feel embarrassed, but putting theories together to figure out who the killer was worked him quite the appetite. To save face the deputy opted to distract his boss from his silly display, “Thought you quit?”

“I did.” Burke admitted, taking another long drag, “But damn it Dewey, Vital Phone just faxed us. Those calls are listed to Neil Prescott, Sidneys father. He made the calls with a cellular phone. It's been confirmed.” 

Dewey shook his head, taking a lick out of his ice cream in thought. There was no way Mr. Prescott would do something of this magnitude, especially to his own daughter. “There's no way his cellular coulda been cloned?”. Technology was advancing each day, and there was a possibility that the man was being framed with devices that could question his integrity. Although Neil had a big job and was a well respected man, there was always someone who looked down at him here and there. A now single dad trying to raise his daughter by his lonesome.

Sheriff  blew out smoke, frustrated, “There's more. Guess what tomorrow is. The anniversary of his wife's death.” Dewey pursed his lips together in understanding, the pieces were all there and laid out, “ We’ll keep the roadblocks and the curfew in effect through the night, if he's not picked up by morning, then we’ll do a house-to-house. Boy I hate to say it but Miss Weathers was onto something…even if she went about it in an illegal manner and disrupted the peace this morning’. ” 

Dewey nodded then paused, thinking back to a certain curly headed girl from before, “But sir, what does this have to do with (Y/n) (L/n)? The killer was reported to have  an infatuation with her. What would Neil Presscott want with her?” 

Burke looked around to make sure there's nobody around before continuing, “I have a theory, and I'm only able to pinpoint itr from what I've seen lately. Two weeks ago I saw Neil with another woman during lunch.. They seemed to be acquainted with one another.” 

Dewey cocked a brow, not fully understanding, “Another woman? What does the other woman have to do with (Y/n)” 

The Sheriff scoffed, “It has a lot to do with her if the lady is her legal guardian and family.” 

A gasp left the male's lips in shock and mortification, his ice cream being lowered in his hand. “You don't mean–” 

“You know exactly who I mean Dewey! The woman he’s been seeing is no other than Gia (L/n) , the sick bastard is getting rid of all obstacles! I'm going to get Montana to get her to our office in an hour.” 

Dewey shook his head in disagreement, the urge to debunk the theory of Gia being involved with the man itched at his tongue. Miss (L/n) was a friendly face to all who knew her, to even think that she could be involved with a criminal willingly for some grander scheme made his blood boil. What about the many times she brought freshly made cookies over the Riley home when Tatum wasn't feeling well, or the times she wished him luck with his training to become a deputy? Was the Sheriff really going to ignore the women's integrity?

What about her own niece (Y/n), the only living fraction she has left of her brother that was shot and killed in an alleyway? Did she honestly seem like the kind of woman who would set her whole world to be murdered in the mad man's house? For love? For new devotion?

There was no way Gia knew anything about Neil Prescott's involvement. Dewey knew that for a fact. 

“No, Gia would never Sheriff,” Dewey took a bite out of his cone, icecream the sickly sweet substance dribbled down his lips comically. Burke turned up his lip, the cigar moving long with his mood. “I mean, Miss (L/n) is one of the nicest laddies in town! What reason would she risk dealing with such a dangerous man…especially if..” 

The sheriff noticed the Deputies' hesitation to finish.  

“Now I'm not saying she's involved, Dewey. I'm stating facts about the man and what we know. Picking up Gia is a safety precaution and questions need to be done in order to see if we are missing anything.” Burke released a puff of smoke watching as stores started to close early for the evening. A particular couple is hurrying to their car, the pregnant wife lugging some groceries as best as she can while the husband loads everything up into the trunk. “For all we know he could be using her to make himself seem like a normal man trying to move on from his dead wife.” 

Dewey nodded, finishing off the cone before tossing it, his brows furring in thought, “Have you contacted the bureau?” 

“They believe he might be out of state by now. We’ll keep the roadblocks and curfew in effect through the night. If he's not picked up by morning—we’ll do house to house.” 

“You think he might still be in town? Maybe he's hiding off somewhere secluded?”

Burke huffed, “He'd have to be crazy. Where's Sidney and (Y/n)?”

Dewey frowned, thinking back to the horrendous cries of the afro haired girl from earlier that morning. “ Sidney’s with my sister, and (Y/n)...I haven't really seen her since this morning. Should I bring them in? Especially (Y/n), the girl has been through alot–”

“Hold off for now, just stay close to them. As far as (Y/n) is concerned don’t let her know anything pertaining to Gia. We don't want any assumptions to arise between the two.” 

It was understandable. The last thing they needed was wind about Gia to reach the teen girl and for her to think the worst. The bond between the two was obviously strong, a case like this and secrets being unearthed could shatter the foundation between two family members that was all that they have left. 

“Sidney and (Y/n) will be staying over Stu Machers tonight.” Dewey informed stiffly. 

“Watch em’. Don't let on— just keep your eye out.” 

“Yes Sir.”

[hozierbabymomma]

That feeling when your favorite writter still aint post the next chapter...

Im jp yall, i just be talking shit lol

[angelbarelywrites]

♡ slashers scenarios | sharing a bed (part two)

♡ fandoms; Friday the 13th, House of Wax, Black Christmas, Scream (kinda), Hannibal (TV), Dead by Daylight, slashers (general)

♡ characters; Jason Vorhees, Bo Sinclair, Billy Lenz, Danny Johnson, Hannibal Lecter

♡ reader; gender neutral

♡ cw; heavily suggestive content, implied smut, unhealthy power dynamics, references to stalking and kidnapping, violence

♡ notes; still kind of figuring out characterization for Jason and Danny tbh

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

Jason Vorhees

> mama always taught him that sharing a bed with someone was wrong

> it could so easily lead to sinning! and the woods tended to be humid anyway, so it’d get sticky and sweaty

> but Jason likes keeping you close, very close

> the only time he’s not by your side is when he’s “working”

> and even then he’ll check up on you throughout the evening

> one day you get worried, though

> he’s usually back by the time you’re about to go to sleep- he drinks tea with you and usually cuddles for a bit even though he’s convinced staying would be bad

> on this night, the tea is getting cold, and you’re getting grumpy, so you step outside to call for him

> it’s just a moment- a split second that you feel a hand on your shoulder- too small to be Jason

> then there’s a sickening squelch, a scream, and a couple more wet thumps and groans before silence

> you don’t need to turn to know what happened, instead letting Jason come to you (he doesn’t like seeing you sad from his messes- and you don’t like seeing them period)

> he’s got the blood of the man who touched you splattered all over you but you just frown softly “…it’s bedtime.”

> he wordlessly nods and scoops you up quickly, seeming scared that you were somehow hurt

> you quietly reassure him but he gets you the tea and pets your hair until he’s satisfied you’re okay

> you relish in the affection and get an idea

> “Jason baby? can you sleep in my bed? just tonight?”

> you can tell he mulls it over a long while before he nods

> he looks comically large in your bed, holding your teddy bear for you while you change into pajamas

> you let him be the little spoon, wrapping around him happily

> surely something this comfy can’t be wrong, he decides and falls asleep peacefully

> but when he wakes up, holding your soft, barely clothed form tight against him…he realizes he doesn’t care what’s wrong and right when it comes to you

> because you make him want to do all of the things mama said not to - and he just loves making you happy

Bo Sinclair

> you like your personal space- that’s something you made clear when you started living there

> back then you were still a victim, but the point stands

> so once they trusted you you got your own little room and let you decorate

> and you like your arrangement. you have your bed, your boyfriend has his, and you don’t ever sleep in the other’s on purpose

> why would you want to sleep next to Bo anyways? he snores, he’s always splayed out in weird positions and he sweats like a motherfucker

> maybe it had to do with the way you can always hear him screaming when he wakes up in the middle of the night.

> or how it stings whenever he leaves after you fuck, even though you never really ask him to stay

> okay, fuck it. you love the idiot and you want to sleep next to him.

> that shouldn’t be too hard to say

> except it is, because your stubbornness is almost as legendary as Bo’s

> you’re still actively putting it off when you manage to sprain your ankle in the house

> after thanking Vincent for patching you up, you spend the afternoon in the living room, sulking as you wait for Bo

> you know it’s not his fault you slipped, but you’re irrationally mad at him and getting worse the later that he is

> you can tell Vincent got to him first because he’s already frowning when he walks in to the living room close to midnight

> “what happened to you, little darlin?”

> your anger immediately melts away and you give a pathetic little pout as he hugs you tight, cursing for not checking in

> he babies you throughly and eventually takes you to your room

> he’s giving you a goodnight kiss when you grab his sleeve

> “…stay?”

> he can’t hide his smug smile

> “…you want me to?”

> you grumble but he’s happy to strip to his boxers, whistling

> “what’re you so smug for?”

> “you finally asked me to stay.”

> “…well duh.”

> he falls asleep with your whole body laid on top of him, hand lazily stroking your hair

> for once he doesn’t have any night terrors, and he’s grateful

> so grateful in fact, he’d like to repay you..

Billy Lenz

> you don’t love the idea of billy spending the night

> it’s not that you don’t love him, or being around him. he’s your boyfriend, of course you like his company

> it’s just that the sorority girls don’t have the greatest track record of giving you privacy

> they don’t cross boundaries, or enter without knocking- you lock the door anyways

> but they like you enough that usually they’re knocking on your door by eight, inviting you on a shopping trip or to breakfast or even asking for help studying

> it can be stifling, but it’s sweet, and it’s not like they’ll know you have a guest. they’d be more courteous if you could tell them

> and there’s the second reason, the one you can’t tell Billy

> you know the walls are paper thin, and you know just as well he’d take that as a challenge

> but it’s spring break, and only a couple of students are still about

> so you quite casually ask him if he’d like to stay the night

> you’ve never seen this man smile wider in your entire time with him

> and he’s surprisingly PG as you make plans

> he’s excited to eat popcorn and get his nails done and cuddle - you paint his hails black and get the snacks ready

> you rent a horror movie for the occasion, and he’s giggling the whole way through it

> he thinks it’s just adorable that you get so scared, hiding your face against him

> “Billy’s pretty baby is so silly- maybe he should distract his baby….-“

> luckily, you’re able to turn being as quiet as possible into a game when you mention how sound carries through the house

> and he’s ecstatic when he gets to stay next to you, tangled in the sheets and clinging to you for dear life

Danny Johnson

> you’ve never been to his place

> he started as a stalker, so it seemed natural he’d just keep going over to your apartment

> and since he’s always busy with the paper, and continuing his current murder spree…

> well most nights you just let him go, and when you don’t you wake up alone

> but on a particularly boring evening you decide to reverse the roles just a bit

> you figured out his address some time ago- and you picked up a thing or two about picking locks from dating Danny

> so it’s not a problem getting into his penthouse and making yourself comfortable

> you make sure to send a vague text that you knew he’d be able to figure out

> after all actually being sneaky around Danny was probably dangerous- you’re about the only person he wouldn’t stab on site

> you can’t help your huge grin when he stalks into his bedroom

> he’s acting pissy but you see the way his eyes survey your nearly bare body

> “You little brat…”

> he’s the fun kind of angry

> after a through lesson in asking permission you shower and collapse into bed together

> you cuddle close and fall asleep in his arms as he traces all your new bite marks and bruises

> he seems to get the message about staying - when you wake up it’s to him kissing your neck and purring your name

> apparently he didn’t finish last night’s ‘lesson’…and he’s eager to continue

Hannibal Lecter

> he’s eager for you to spend the night, in all honesty

> he likes being in control, utterly and completely

> if he had it his way, you’d move in within the month

> but even though you’ve brought a bag, and are all pj-ed up, he’s distracted

> maybe the one thing that can distract him from you is work- he’s a perfectionist

> and he doesn’t have to prove himself to you like he does clientele and state boards, and practically everyone else

> “y’know you said ten minutes ten minutes ago.”

> “yes my darling- i’ll be there shortly, just- go lay down-“

> you roll your eyes and instead stand behind him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and beginning to kiss his neck

> he tries his damndest to keep focused

> “…if you don’t come soon, i won’t be awake enough to help you…unwind,”

> that gets him up- you 1, work 0

> you’re surprised when after you’ve both gotten nice and relaxed, he pulls you flush

> usually you have to ask for affection

> but he spoons you, face buried in your hair as he dozes off

[loveisanimaginarydagger3000]

Kinktober (4)- What's Your Favourite Scary Movie

Dark Natasha X Reader 18+

Summary: Whilst on the phone to your girlfriend, the conversation starts off innocently with favourite horror films before escalating down a more sinful path. You tell her how you wish she could be here with you, unaware of the small camera she had hidden in your room, watching as she guides you to slide your hand under your panties.

Warnings/Tags: Dark Natasha/Innocent Reader, Stalking, Non Consensual filming, Hidden cameras, Unhealthy Relationship, Possessive and Obsessed Natasha, Phone Sex, Guided Masturbation, Fingering, Dirty Talk

All sexual acts are consensual, the reader is just unaware she is being watched. Please consider the warnings before reading!

Word Count: 4.5k

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

A/N- I hate this chapter with a passion, I want to remove its entire existence from my brain. It annoyed me that much whilst writing. Apologies about the quality of writing in this, I just wanted to finish it before I actually threw my laptop out of a window.

---

The sound of the phone ringing caught your attention as you pottered about the kitchen, grabbing the popcorn from the cupboard whilst your other hand reached into your pocket to answer the call on your mobile, a frown gracing your features at the unknown caller id appearing at the top of the screen.

“Hello?” You asked in a hesitant voice, unsure of what scam call would be ringing you this late as you placed the phone on speaker and onto the countertop, using both hands to prepare the popcorn, ready to curl up in bed and watch a horror film to get into the Halloween spirit.

“Hello,” spoke the other person, a familiar husky voice at the other end of the phone making you relax, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips as you realised who it was, a similar expression appearing on your girlfriends face as she watched you bite your lip shyly, the camera hidden in the corner of the room giving her a perfect and clear video for her to watch you on.

“What number are you trying to reach?” you playfully murmur whilst leaning against the countertop, quoting the opening scene of the film you knew Natasha was obsessed with, the words at the start of Scream practically engraved in your mind as you had watched the film with her so many times, your adorable expression amusing the redhead as she admired the sight of you so innocent and unaware.

“I don’t know,” she continues to go along with your joke, your fingers playing with the end of your jumper as you smile at the other woman’s voice, having missed her all day whilst she was away at work.

“I think you have the wrong number,” you hum out in a tone that suggests you're trying not to laugh at how silly the two of you were, shaking the popcorn loudly so you could skip the small chatter at the start of the film, making it noticeable for her to hear.

“Do I?” she starts off before chuckling in a raspy tone, your cheeks tinting pink at the sound, a little embarrassed at the heat it sent through you as she indulges your tease, “What’s that noise?”

“Popcorn,” your tone is frivolous as you pop the ‘p’, teeth biting down on your lower lip to stop the wide grin that wanted to spread across your face, memories of the two of you wrapped up in tender embraces as the film played filtering through your mind, the two of you practically making it a tradition every Halloween to watch the entire film series.

“You’re making popcorn?” She questions almost knowingly, an amused hum escaping you, the Russian unable to take her eyes off the screen as the way you sway your body slightly, practically giddy as you speak to her, her green softening at your cute form. “I only eat popcorn at the movies,” Natasha says, your eyes rolling as you knew for a fact that was a lie, your girlfriend having a weird taste for popcorn and always randomly buying it for the two of you to share.

“I’m getting ready to watch a film,” you murmur back, taking the popcorn off the stove and placing it into a bowl, pinching a few pieces and throwing them into your mouth to entertain yourself, pleased at the delicious taste of sweet and salty popcorn.

“Really? What?” The redhead asks, adding a bit of theatrics to her tone as she already knows exactly what you’re going to say as you pick up your phone, wandering through your apartment to your bedroom, placing the bowl on your side table before finding the remote to turn the tv on, smiling as you start to search for the film on Netflix.

You chuckle to yourself as you gently toss your phone onto the bed, deciding to get changed into some more comfortable clothes to settle in, your fingers finding the hem of your sweater and lifting it over your head as you reply.

“Just some scary movie,” your tone signals your amusement as you delicately fold the cream coloured jumper, placing it onto your desk before wandering over to your wardrobe, your eyes searching for a suitable sleep shirt to wear as you started the film, not minding if you missed a little bit of the start whilst you got changed. Your gaze flickered over various items, your lips pulling into a confused expression as you struggled to decide on something, your eyes eventually landing on the shirt you had stolen from Natasha, the slightly baggy shirt making you smile to yourself as her raspy voice met your ears.

“Do you like scary movies?” She asks, purposely letting her voice drop an octave, arousal and thrill coursing through the redhead as she watches you slide your shirt over your head, leaving you just in your bra and joggers as you grin at her words, laughing softly before humming in response.

Natasha couldn’t get over the sight of you as you stretched slightly, arching your back to try and crack it before letting your arms reach behind your back to unclasp your bra, swiftly removing it before sliding on the other woman’s shirt, the sight something she was mesmerised by. The sight of you, so casual, so unknowing sent excitement flooding through her, the fact that you were all hers to admire and obsess over… it was everything she could ever want. She wanted to know everything about you, she deserved to know everything about you, where you had been, what you had done, what you did when she wasn’t there, she just had to know. It pleased her to know you were just as innocent and adorable alone, that you were someone easy to manipulate and corrupt into her own little play thing, someone to worship and control. It was all she ever wanted to do with you.

“What’s your favourite scary movie?” She asks, enthralled with the screen as you slide your joggers down your legs, finding a pair of loose shorts to wear instead under the soft duvet, the warmth of your apartment adding to the comfortable and cosy atmosphere as you shake your head softly at both of your antics.

The redhead tries to find it endearing at the way she can see the way the corner of your lips lift at her words, the way your eyes seems to overflow with joy but she can’t, her mind taking a more sinful route at the sight of your legs, the earlier sight of your exposed torso sending warmth through her body. Images of the various times she had watched you at night flooded through Natasha’s head, the countless occasions she intently observed as you moaned her name, your own fingers buried deep inside you as you chased the high you wished your girlfriend was giving you, or the other occasions where she rewatched the footage of the two of you to entertain herself and her twisted fantasies.

“Hmm,” you teasingly say, pretending to think hard about your decision as you settle in bed, watching as Casey talks on the phone to the stranger as the film plays on, your hand reaching over to grab a few pieces of popcorn as you answer her. “Probably Scream because it’s my girlfriend’s favourite,” you softly say, unable to hide your excitement as you smile lovingly, biting on your thumbnail to try and contain yourself, eyes trained on the screen as the patio lights come on, the character’s boyfriend butchered for her to see.

“Girlfriend?” Natasha questions jokingly, your eyes rolling at her words as you make a noise of acknowledgement.

“Yeah, girlfriend. Hi baby,” you murmur, the redhead’s heart melting at your affectionate voice, something inside her craving more of you, needing more to obsess over as she continues to stare at her own screen, the perfect view she has of you all tucked up in bed.

“Hi Detka, I’ve missed you,” she whispers, causing love and care to wrap around you in a snug manner, “How’s your day been?” At her words, you ramble on about your day, the way you explored a little café in the city that you had been wanting to try for a while, the redhead humming along, acting surprised at everything you told her as she already knew exactly what you had done, her ‘busy day at work’ having been spent following you around New York, intrigued as to what you would do. She knew every small detail about your day, the way a small child had accidentally mistaken your for his mother or the way the barista had given you the wrong order by mistake, offering you a free ginger bread in the shape of a spooky ghost in apology, the eyes on the treat slightly wonky. She knew everything, yet she still revelled in the way you told her about your day, the sheer excitement in your voice something she adored.

“How was your day?” You eventually asked after having waffled about a few random tangents, her smile growing at the genuine care lacing your words as you continued to eat some more popcorn.

“Boring as usual,” she huffs out, her lie executed perfectly as you make a sound of disappointment, hoping she had a pleasant day on her work trip, “Coulson is a sweet man but his meetings are so dull.” You smile softly at her, offering a few reassuring words before asking her a little bit more about her day, lie after lie being fed to you as you learnt about your girlfriends day, the other woman’s interest growing when you slide out of the duvet, deciding to lay on top of it instead as you were getting too warm, the sight of your exposed skin capturing every ounce of her attention.

“I wish you were here with me right now,” you murmur into the phone after hearing her say she couldn’t wait to come back to New York, her enchanting green holding a bit of mischief in them, the corner of her lips lifting into a seductive smirk.

“Oh yeah? What would we be doing if I was there?” She rasps out, purposely letting her accent seep into her words, knowing the effect it had on you, the way you shuffled on the bed slightly and squeezed your legs together telling Natasha exactly where your thoughts were heading. You paused before replying, deciding on whether you wanted to elaborate on your thoughts, not wanting to end up frustrated without her touch as she was so many miles away, another part of you tempted to give in and have another sinful night with her over the phone.

“We’d be trying to watch the film,” you start off with, biting down on your lip sheepishly as you decide on your next words, your shy form amusing to her as she watches you blush slightly, lewd images flashing through your mind. “But I think we’d inevitably get distracted…” you trail off, hoping she catches the insinuation to your words, the other woman chuckling at the other end of the phone, knowing exactly how she wants to tease and torment you.

“Distracted with what, Detka?” she asks innocently, wanting you to say everything you were fantasising about, enjoying the way you always became so flustered when she asked you to be direct.

“Nat,” you whine into the phone, a little embarrassed as you wanted her to take control, to lead the conversation and indulge in the desires you were both having. You weren’t sure that you had it in you to tell her how you desperately wished she was on top of you, knee slotted between your legs as she pressed you further into the soft mattress, her fervent lips constantly chasing yours and stealing your breath away, hands caressing your body in a manner that had you moaning in anticipation, wanting to know how her fingers felt elsewhere. You weren’t sure you could vocalise how you also wanted her to press your face further into the sheets as she pounded into you from behind, the strap on reaching deep inside you with powerful thrusts, her hands occasionally spanking you and turning your ass red, leaving her mark on you as she told you that you were her little slut, only hers.

“Come on Detka, I can’t know what unless you tell me,” she mutters playfully, watching intensely at the way you squeeze your legs closer together, your eyes flickering around the room as you get lost in your fantasies, cheeks vibrant and flushed with shyness.

“I don’t know…” you shyly murmur back, not having the confidence to share your thoughts, the innocent tone lacing your words making the redhead smile, your cuteness making this all the more exciting for her.

“Are you sure?” she hums out in a condescending tone, further darkening the colour of your cheeks, a small, shaky breath escaping you at the dominance she radiated. “I guess I’ll just have to tell you what I wish we were doing then,” she teases, planning on how to drive you mad with the idea of her touch, her mind searching for how to torment you and drag you to the brink of madness.

“Please,” you whisper without hesitation, desperate to know what she would do, the other woman always knowing how to make you melt, how to cause a prominent throb between your thighs. The sound of you already pleading with her further entertained Natasha, a warmth settling at the pit of her stomach as she let her mind run wild with sinful images, her hand moving the mouse to make sure her screen perfectly showed you, the resolution as clear as she could manage, wanting to watch everything she was about to tell you to do.

“I’d want to drive you insane Detka,” she husks out, arousal shamelessly pooling between your thighs as you imagine the ghost of her lips brushing the shell of your ear, the way her accent seeps into her words as she would whisper them against you. You can feel your heart already pounding against your chest, a sense of thrill going through you as she continues, your hand subconsciously moving to settle on your thigh, clutching loosely at the fabric of your shorts.

“I’d start of by kissing you softly, slowly, watching as you become the needy girl I love so much,” she purrs out, memories of her gentle but passionate kisses invading your thoughts, the way her teeth would softly bite down on your lower lip, dragging it down playfully before releasing it, crashing her wet and wanting mouth back to yours and clouding your mind with desire and lust. “I’d want you to beg me to do more, to let my hands lower down your body,” she practically whispers into the phone, adding to the intimacy of the moment as you feel the throb between your thighs become more noticeable, your body urging you to move your hand and help you relieve the ache there. “You’d love that Detka, wouldn’t you?” Natasha asks as she can see your hand subconsciously sliding closer to your core, your body craving some sort of relief as you drown in the thoughts of green eyes, red hair and sinful fingers.

“Yes, fuck,” you sigh out in response, vividly picturing everything she was saying to you, thinking back to instances that were engraved in your mind. “Please,” you add at the end, not even sure as to what you were pleading for as she was so many miles away, her eyes lighting up at the plea as she chuckled on the other end of the line, the sound enough to have arousal pooling pathetically between your legs.

“Go on baby, I know you want to touch yourself,” her tone is dominant and amused as she encourages you to give into your desires, her smirk growing as she watches you move the popcorn bowl out of the way, not wanting to knock it over as you settle on the bed, hands moving against your body. “Listen to me carefully Detka, I want you to follow my instructions,” she says, pausing your movements as your hands still at the waistband of your shorts, a small sound of desperation already leaving you as you can feel how soaked your panties were, a hint of embarrassment washing through you at how turned on you already were. “Can you do that for me?”

“Yes Nat,” you obediently murmur back, letting your eyes flutter shut as you wait a little impatiently for her guidance, wanting to be able to picture everything and let yourself embrace the moment fully.

“Good girl,” she husks out, making you groan quietly at the praise, the redhead watching with curiosity as you trace random patterns against the fabric of your clothes, attempting to distract yourself. “I want you to slide your hands under your shirt slowly, tease yourself for me Detka,” Natasha murmurs out, emerald eyes trained on the way you immediately obey her words, your cold fingertips meeting your burning skin, making you gasp at the contrast in temperature. You focus on the feeling of your hands, caressing your own skin in the same way she would if she was on top of you, sliding up and down the curve of your hips before going higher, your hands softly cupping your breasts.

“Does that feel good?” Her tone contains a seductive rasps, the other woman enthralled with you as she watches you play with yourself, fingers massaging your chest, fingertips brushing over your hardening nipples as you moan softly for her, slowly building in confidence to let her hear you, unaware of her witnessing everything.

“Yes, fuck I wish you were here with me,” you mutter out, arching your back beautifully and slightly, pushing your chest further into your own hands as you brush over your weak spots, pleasure building gradually inside you. You can hear her mutter something in agreement, not comprehending what she was saying properly as you're too busy imagining her touch, her slightly larger and skilful hands worshipping you, setting your body alight.

“That’s my girl,” she murmurs in praise, watching as you lose yourself in the sinful touches. “Now slide your shorts and panties off for me,” the redhead husks out and it doesn’t fully click in your mind what she’s said, the fact she knew what you were wearing irrelevant to you as you wanted, needed to feel pleasure crashing through you.

A little rushed, you did as she said, shuffling the items of clothing off you, sighing a little at the feeling of your exposed skin meeting the pleasant temperature of the room and the soft fabric of the bed sheets under you. You settled more comfortably on the bed, almost posing perfectly for the other woman, your arousal glistening in the light and clear for Natasha to see, a small curse leaving her lips at the sinful sight.

“Nat please, I wanna come so bad,” you mutter in a desperate voice, your shyness and shame gone as you were too far gone in your delirium of the thought of her. You kept your more dominant hand resting against your thigh, obediently waiting for her permission whilst your other hand moved back up your body, still grazing over the sensitive skin of your breasts, squeezing a little harder, making you gasp in pleasure at the sparks of ecstasy that shot through you.

“Patience Detka,” she hums out a little condescendingly, revelling in the amount of control she had over you, the idea of having such dominance over you thrilling her, her heart beating a little erratically in her chest as she savours the moment, one of her favourite fantasies being lived out again. “I’ll give you what you want soon,” her tone is smug as she watches you move in a protesting way, seeming to be impatient as your fingers press into the soft flesh of your thigh, your hips shifting in an eager and desperate manner. “Tell me how wet you are Detka, use your fingers to feel for me, ” she commands, staring at the screen intensely as you listen to her, moving your fingers to slide through your dripping folds, arousal coating your fingers.

“Shit,” you sigh out, teasing yourself as you move your finger to circle your clit, your hips softly bucking up into your hand as you lose control of your body, giving in to the pleasure flooding through you at finally being able to touch yourself. “So wet, I…Fuck, I’m so wet and it’s all for you,” you groan out wantonly, grinding against your own hand as you pretend it was hers, your pace increase as you continue to please yourself, Natasha moaning audibly on the phone at your words.

‘All for you’ rang around in her head, almost causing something inside her to break, to drive over to your apartment right now and fuck you like she wanted to, but she refrained as she knew she would have been caught, a heavy sigh escaping her instead as she watched through lust-filled eyes as you masturbated to her voice.

“Slide your finger in Detka, I want you to pretend it’s me filling you up with the strap,” she lewdly sighs out, images of the many times you had spent passionate nights with the toys filling both of your minds, a broken moan escaping you as you loved it when she fucked you roughly with the strap on, reminding you of your place, how you were all hers to play with and torment.

“Nat,” you desperately moan out as you slide your finger in, curling it beautifully inside you as your palm brushes your clit with every frantic roll of your hips, euphoria coursing through your veins as you pump your finger in at a steady pace. Growing desperate, you slide another in, curling them both at your sweet spot and sighing out curses and chants of the redhead’s name as your mind fogs over with arousal and pleasure, the sight of you so needy engraving itself in Natasha’s mind as she struggles to take her eyes off of her screen.

“That’s it Detka, fuck yourself like the little slut you are,” she seductively murmurs out, a soft moan escaping you as the coil in your lower abdomen starts to tighten, your movements turning even more desperate and frantic as you chase your release, feeling your body steadily drive you closer and closer towards that familiar edge. “My little slut,” she adds, pushing you significantly closer to your orgasm, the way her accent seeps into her words, voice husky and dominant, sending you reeling in lewd and sinful thoughts and ideas, a whimper leaving you pathetically at the idea of her hand wrapping around your throat as she pounded into you with the strap on, increasing the power behind her thrusts as she watches you fall apart beneath her.

“I’m so close, Nat, please,” you plead, a sense of urgency evident in your voice as you grind against your hand, your free hand clutching at the sheets, knuckles bleeding white at the intense desire crashing through you.

“Come for me Detka,” as soon as the words meet your ears, a guttural moan is ripped from the back of your throat, your body tensing, legs trembling. You throw your head back, neck straining and jawline on show as your body is thrown into your powerful release, hips desperately rocking against your palm. Your ragged breaths and the wet sounds of your fingers sliding in and out of your soaking cunt take over the room as you slow your pace, riding the last waves of your release, pleasure coursing through you until you eventually collapse onto the bed.

Soft words spill from Natasha’s lips, your hazy mind barely processing them as you roll over onto your side, getting comfortable with the sheets around you as you listen to her gentle and delicate voice, the other woman saving the footage of everything that had just occurred to her laptop.

“I’m so proud of you,” she murmurs in a loving voice, making you smile shyly as you relax in the duvet, content on just listening to her voice, missing her presence and wishing she was next to you, her warm and comfortable body embracing yours.

“When do you get back?” You ask after a brief, tender silence, your tone of voice suggesting how much you longed for her to be there with you, the yearning for your girlfriend making Natasha smile. You just wanted to be wrapped up in her arms, her lips kissing your temple affectionately as you both drifted off to sleep or relaxed against one another, continuing to watch the film you put on before losing focus on it.

“I’ll be back in a few days Detka, I promise,” she whispers, finding it endearing how much you missed her, how much you depended on her. It was everything she ever wanted. “I’ll be back soon and we can watch the rest of the Scream films then,” she teases, a small smile gracing your lips at her words, a small warmth wrapping around your heart.

“Good,” you mumble, a little tired after your long day and the recent high you experienced, “We’ll have to try to not get distracted during them.” Your drowsy joke earns a small huff of laughter, her head shaking softly at your antics.

“We can try,” she murmurs in an amused tone, watching you with a tender smile as you start to drift off at the sound of her voice, curled up snug under your duvet. “Goodnight Detka,” she whispers, turning off the live camera and leaving you to sleep, the thought of you continuing to play on her mind, leaving her to obsess over what had happened. 

[tac-the-unseen]

OUAGH the last one gave me the idea of a musician reader x slasher

If I were to suggest a specific genre maybe they’re into rock because. Yeah.

Could you do something with that?

Slashers x Musician Reader

Micheal Myers:

•Plays it off but thinks it cool as hell

•He did play the piano for a very short time in his childhood, but the ward made him very rusty 

•Will happily watch any concerts you put on for him

•Will Secretly watch you if you don't 

Billy loomis & Stu macher:

•They both immediately pitch in a song request 

•They bring up the fact that you play an instrument to win arguments with people 

•Will eventually find a way to break your instrument 

•They will be very apologetic about it 

•attempts to replace it 

Thomas Hewitt:

•very interested 

•He's curious by nature, he wants to know everything he can about it 

•Your instrument is the most expensive thing in the house 

•daydreams about being able to play a song for you, one day

•until then, he'll try to figure it out himself 

Bubba Sawyer:

•Tries to sing along when you play

•he also dances but always ends up knocking stuff over

•Will sit in front of the door so his brothers can't get in while you're playing

•They constantly complain about the racket 

•Chop-top will occasionally sit in while you play 

Bo Sinclair:

•immediately shows you his acoustic 

•brags about how he can out play you

•loses miserably because he only practiced for a couple months 

•mad about it

•polishes its case whenever he comes around to it 

Vincent Sinclair:

•romanticizes it by thinking about how you're two different types of artists 

•Sketches you playing your instrument 

•Sheepishly asks you to pose

•makes a mini wax sculpture of your instrument 

•He get super giddy if you play a song for him

Lester Sinclair:

•extremely impressed 

•He's always thought of being able to play an instrument as a high class/rich person activity 

•Falls asleep while you play, Not because you're boring, But because he finds it soothing 

•will find out how to care for your instrument so he can help repair any damages it might face

Billy Lenz:

•probably was the reason He zeroed in on you in the first place 

•fines it incredibly alluring and wanted you to play all the time 

•Will find a way to get his grubby hands on your instrument 

•Will eventually break it but not feel sorry 

•(Not So) patiently waits for you to get it fixed

Brahms Heelshire:

•He can play the piano and just uses it as another excuse to hang out with you 

•looks up songs to properly make a duet with you 

•whenever conversations died down or get a little stale, he whips out the instrument card 

•whether you did or didn't know how to play an instrument he's going to romanticize it anyway 

Hannibal Lecter:

•insists on making some kind of duet with you, and whether or not your instruments align with each other 

•buy stuff to make for your instrument is a mint condition 

•’humbly’ braggs about your talent at his dinner parties 

•Will make you food associated with your instrument(s) (look that up, it's a real thing because of course it is)

Will Graham:

•Like to watch you play whatever it is you play

•He's never really had any interest in instruments, But he starts listening to videos featuring your instrument. 

•Casually asks Hannibal facts about your instrument 

•makes you a little charm related to your instrument to put on your keychain 

•Has flashbacks to the guy with his throat turned into a Cello 

The Lost Boys:

•They all at some point have picked up an instrument 

•David can play the Piano, Organ, violin, and guitar

•Dwayne can play the Hand drums, flute, and Bass guitar

•Paul can play the clarinet, electric guitar, French horn, and marimba 

•Marko can play the Drums, Harp, Cello, and viola

•They have all genuinely considered starting a band 

•No matter what you play, you'll fit in

Thanks for reading <3

I went for a more neutral tone with this fic. Because I don't want to write 16 other fanfics about specific music genres ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠🎀)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

[gothic-thoughts]

Pinky Promise

Ghostface x Black Fem Reader Drabble

Bimbo!Reader

CW: peeps named Emma caught a crazy stray im sorry 😭

TW: murder mention

Word Count: 952 (give or take)

After waking up at 2 am, you drag your groggy body out of bed, wrap a little blanket around yourself, and slip on your slippers, preparing for the cold air in the hallway. As soon as you open your room door, your phone rings, the sound of your favorite song muffled by the blankets. Confused, you walk back to the bed and rummage through your comforter until your phone falls onto your mattress with a soft thud. The screen was lit up, showing ‘Unknown Caller’ on the screen to which you tilt your empty head and pick it up.

“Uh, hello?”

“Well hello there, pretty girl~”

You chuckle, immediately flattered by the man’s tone and compliment: “Um, hi...? Who is this?”

“You have such a pretty voice over the phone, (Y/n). Sounds sexier than I expected.”

You pause, freezing your steps in the hallway, “Wha- I... wait, how’d you know my name?”

“Oh, I know a lot of things, baby.”

“Really?”

“You may not see me but I see everything.”

“Oh, like a god?”

The man chuckled, mocking your stupidity, “In a way, yes. And you know what, gorgeous?”

“What?”

“Since you asked me how I knew your name, that means you’re not as dumb a bitch as Emma said you were.”

You gasp softly, “She said that?”

“That and more. Your girl Emma gave me an earful; going on and on about how ‘all you do is be pretty’ and that ‘you've got nothing going on’.”

“She... wouldn’t say that—”

“You were nothing but a stupid bimbo to her. She may be right, but the least she could do was say it to your face, don'tcha think?”

“Well, I mean...”

“Emma isn't a very nice person, is she?”

“No, I mean, yes! She’s my best friend!”

He chuckled into the phone, loving how much he was frazzling your singular brain cell with rapid-fire information as you made your way into your kitchen, giving him a better view of you.

“Is she now? I think she was pretty fucking messy, in more ways than one.”

Your grip on the blanket around you tightens, “What do you mean?”

“Well I’m only calling you as per her recommendation, sweet cheeks. She thought she could trade her life for yours, but I quickly informed her that’s not how I roll. And believe me, she had a lot more to say before I split her open tits to thighs.”

You freeze in the middle of the kitchen, jaw-dropping as you lose your breath, your eyes stinging with tears. He chuckles at your faltering breaths while you rack your small brain for why else he could be calling. Your hand trembles against the phone as you frantically look around your kitchen, hoping to find an obvious camera before deciding to close the kitchen curtains.

“Mm, so there are neurons firing in that skull.” He laughs, watching you panic on his monitors, “Do you know why I’m calling?”

“To.... to kill me too...?” The words leaving your mouth make a tear roll down your cheek.

“Now why would I do that, pretty girl?”

“I don't know!” The stress and confusion make you burst into tears. “I swear I don’t know, just please don't hurt me.”

“Aw, there's no need to cry, beautiful, I just want to ask you something.”

“What, that’s all?”

“Mhm; I just want you to tell me what your favorite scary movie is.”

“What? I-I-I—”

The man sighs. “Come on, you don’t need brains for this, baby, this is easy. What’s your favorite scary movie?”

“Um, Halloween... t-the Rob Zombie one.”

“That's a remake, you know.”

“Y-yeah, I rewatch it all the time.”

“Interesting. What do you like about it?”

“Um, Michael's backstory makes you feel bad for him and then I like his long hair when he's older.”

The man chuckles in your ear, “So you like big guys with long hair huh? You like masks too?”

“I guess, maybe, I don’t know...”

“So, let's say a handsome guy with long hair walks into your room wearing a mask: what would you think?”

“How would I know he's handsome if he's wearing a mask?”

“You'd ask him to remove it?”

“I guess I'd want to know what he looks like.”

“Mm, so you don’t like masks, that’s a shame."

"N-no, please, I do! I do, I do!"

"Save it. So if it was me, in your house, looking for you, all big and tall like Michael: how would you feel about that?”

You whimper, thinking he meant he was already in your home, lurking. “I'd be scared.”

He smirked. “Why’s that, sweetheart? I thought that was your type; I've been a nice enough guy, haven’t I?”

“But you... You killed my friend...”

“She who didn't like you, and since she got what was coming to her, why are you scared?"

“I-I don't know. Uh w-why else would you be calling me if you weren't gonna... gonna—”

“What you're feeling right now is nothing compared to what I do to people I hate."

"Y-you... You mean--"

"You're safe with me, baby. All you gotta do is not call the cops.”

You wipe your cheeks with the back of your hand, choking up sobs. “You promise?”

“I promise, you wanna know why?”

You take a deep, shaky breath to try and compose yourself, “Why?”

“I like you, (Y/n). I love how fucking clueless you are— so interesting for someone without a single thought in their head. I never know what you're gonna say next. You keep me engaged— entertained: I like that.”

“Really?”

“Uh-huh. And that voice? That body? Ugh, you have no idea the things I'd do for you. You're helpless, and you're mine now. I’m gonna call you every night just to hear you speak, ya hear me?”

“Okay... Okay, if it means you won’t hurt me, I guess...”

“I already promised, didn’t I? You don’t have to worry that pretty little head about that. All you gotta do is keep me on the line.”

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

(a/n): wrote abt ghostface, still managed to make it abt Michael 😩😩 how I even 😭

[mcondance]

listen…hear me out…i’m imagining stu falling for a real sweet girl but this girl is like yuck i know your reputation playboy and since he’s obsessed with the chase he’s really gunning for it maybe even calling her as ghostface, getting her scared just so stu can swoop in and be like awh poor baby here i’ll keep you safe <3 big mean ghostface can’t get ya when im around

we should form a collaboration. (this got so long anon. i blame you. 18+) this idea has my brain turning like it gets him going so bad to scare you and then be able to come back and be your savior. it appeases the side of him that likes the chase, and the side of him that likes being in control. i think they’re both linked to his need for dominance and his sadistic nature so this is a win win for him.

you know him through sidney’s boyfriend billy, but you’ve never said more than a couple of words to each other outside of the friend group. aware of his reputation, your answer to his question is easy.

you tell him no, that you wouldn’t touch him with a 3-and-a-half foot pole. (he responds in typical stu fashion. he slaps a hand over his chest, expressing how hurt he is by your rejection, a knowing smile etching across his face.)

and so begins the chase. you turn him down over and over again, inviting sidney to the dates he asks you on, saying that the movie he wants to see with you just isn’t your taste— even if he knows he heard you talking to sid about how you wanted to see it just the week before, stupid little excuses to avoid everything he asks you.

he doesn’t mind. your rejections of his advances let him feel the way he does when he’s shrouded in that fearful black cloak, coming up with more and more ways to get you.

he keeps his distance— ghostface, that is. stu doesn’t want to scare you yet. with occasional phone calls that he directs to more people than just you, he lets you off easy, makes it seem like it’s just random.

but he’s getting a little anxious, and he’s always been impatient. he wants you.

billy and sidney are out of town for the weekend. and you’re terrified, more and more people close to you have been turning up dead. you resort to asking stu to stay with you for the weekend.

if he gets you to fuck him while he’s “protecting” you from ghostface? god he’d feel so good. he never forgets his alter ego, the slasher that terrifies your sleepy little town, but playing as your loving, caring little “friend” is fun too. he thinks you’re kinda stupid, to let him stay over at your house under the guise of keeping you safe.

you’d changed into your house clothes when you both got to your house, telling him not to touch anything while you were gone. when you came out he was in a t shirt and shorts, and he looked awfully good.

you’d let him have some of your snacks, throwing a bag of hot chips at him and perching on the other end of the living room sofa. you’d turned on some long ass video essay, and he actually found it sort of interesting, quizzing you on what certain stuff meant before you got tired and wanted to sleep.

he thinks, maybe you do have a thing for him. why else would you let a freak like him stay over? whatever the case may be, he’s here. in your pretty pink and white bedroom, he almost scoffs at the softness of it all.

“‘s cute.”

“yeah. i put blankets and shit on the couch. you sleep there.”

his lanky body barely fits on the small chair, but he knows he won’t be there too long, so he doesn’t complain.

the blanket you gave him smells like you, and he basks in it. your room is silent, for a while. in the darkness, your mind gets to you and you’re so scared even with stu right there.

“stu,” you whisper.

“yeah?”

“can you come sleep over here? i’m scared.”

there it is.

“yeah, ‘f course.” he feigns genuine sympathy, though you’re smarter than that and no matter how hard he tries, there’s always a sliver of depravity peeking through his words.

you scoot from the middle of your bed to the one side, lifting the covers up to let stu take the other side. too terrified to even get smart with him, you welcome him into your bed.

what a terrible mistake you’ve made.

in the light streaming through your windows, he looks gorgeous, blue eyes gazing softly at your worried expression.

“hey,” he starts, reaching out to rest his hand on your shoulder. you don’t shrink away. you’re frozen. “i got you. promise i’ll keep you safe.”

he’s full of shit. but it works.

“can you just. . just hold me. don’t make it weird.” you scoot closer to him.

“i won’t. come ‘ere.”

shifting, you move until your back is pressed to his front. he wraps his arms around you, cradling you and your fragile psyche in the palm of his hand.

“d’you think he’ll try and come for me?” you ask him.

“i dunno. but i promise i’ll do everything i can t’keep you safe.”

god, he impresses himself sometimes.

“thank you.” you whisper, the words stuck in your throat.

“no problem.” you can feel him looking at you, can see him out of the corner of your eye.

with his arms wrapped around you, all the feelings you’ve gained for him over the past weeks come to a head. he’s warm behind you, and he’s holding you just tight enough.

you twist around to where you can see him, and if you were standing your knees would have buckled from his gaze.

“if i let you kiss me, would you promise not to make it weird?”

“promise.”

“okay,” you breathe. and you kiss him.

what a terrible, terrible mistake you’ve made.

it all goes so fast from there. one kiss turns into many and you’re turning around so you can face him all the way.

he’s got you on your back and his hand down your shorts before you know it. his lithe fingers toy with you, his mouth swallows every single one of your sounds, his body provides you comfort, a distraction from the murderer desecrating your safe town.

you come for him. you make a mess on his fingers, the ones he knows are soaked with blood. he could almost shout from how elated he is to have you wrapped around his fingers.

over you he moves, pulled by his collar on top of you and to your lips again. he wants to be smug about it, to note the lack of 3-and-a-half feet between you two, but he doesn’t.

instead, he kisses you like a normal boy would kiss a girl he liked. instead, he professes his protection when you make him promise again.

instead, he kisses you through the stretch of him entering you. “‘s okay, you got it. doin’ so good.” he could blow his load now, at the sight of you in pain and pleasure, at the sound of your hisses and deep breathes.

he slides home. inches deep inside you and even farther in your mind, he fucks both. he’s done this before, fucked a girl in a show of devotion that she’ll fawn over, a false bridge of vulnerability that he inwardly laughs at. it brings him satisfaction he can only get one other way.

you feel safe. safe as he pushes his hips against yours, his cock kissing and sliding against every electric spot inside you. his hand is warm on your cheek, cupping your face and the other is firm on your hip. you whine with each rock into you, body tingling, ears prickling as he groans in your ear. sounds he’s only ever heard on the other end of the phone.

with slow, calculated moves he makes you come again, and god it feels good. in the back of your mind you’re embarrassed, cause all it took was being afraid for your life and stu got you where you know he wanted you.

but stu’s been in this situation enough times to know what comes next, and how to prevent it. it’s easy, kissing you before you have the chance to keep thinking and fucking you to another orgasm.

it happens again the next night. battered and paranoid, you’re being played into his arms and you don’t even know it. you’re embarrassed about it, but in your clouded mind it feels genuine. it feels like stu really cares. at first it didn’t, but now that he’s still coming around even after he got you in bed, maybe he does care.

sidney comes home and stu goes back to his and billy's place. you think you can calm down with sidney back and stu and billy coming over occasionally. you let stu stay the night in your room sometimes, and he gets what he wants from you again.

your neighbor's killed. what the fuck, when will this end? this time, stu comes over, and he stays. you can't sleep a night without him. you think you're being targeted. the only time you feel peace is when stu's fucking your mind away. you’re reliant on him. in his absence all you feel is fear.

the phone calls continue, and stu’s there to answer them, telling whoever’s on the other end to go fuck themself. again, he plays you into his arms. “don’t think about him. think about me.” he tells you, guiding your face from the phone beside your bed to his, and he lets you close the gap. he likes letting you make the first move. it fills him with pride at his psychotic deception, the way he’s turned you into exactly what you said you’d never be.

he thinks about sneaking out to don the cloak, showing up at your doorstep just to see the horror in your eyes. he resigns to dialing your number when you’re out, calling you and listening to your voice as you realize who’s on the other line. he follows you out sometimes and watches your paranoid moves, blood coursing hot through his body every time you look over your shoulder.

at your house, he comforts you when you crumple into his arms, suggests that maybe, you shouldn’t go anywhere without him. you accept.

god, what have you become. if you’re not full of stu then you’re full of terror, and he takes pleasure being the bearer of both of these things. you belong to him, your thoughts, your body, your feelings, it all belongs to him.

he loves to hear you go over his and billy’s crimes over and over again, lives for the disgust and fear in your voice when you recount the murders. he could probably get off to it, to your sad little words. and at night, he revels in being the only one that can make you feel okay.

you’ve become the perfect victim, and he didn’t even have to flash his knife. maybe he’ll keep you around.

[real-hot-grl-shi]

AHHHHH

I need more iida x reader but all my moots requests are closed AHHHHHGGHH I FRAD EVERUTJINF ON THE TAG I NEED 👹MŒŘË👹

LIKE LOOK AT HISJANAHAHAHAHAHAHA (AND THIS WAS OJLU IN SEASON THREE.)

[blackynsupremacy]

i want more billy loomis, stu macher, dewey riley, roman bridger, ethan landry, and randy meeks x black reader pleaseeeee!

where they at!

billy/stu:

randy:

dewey:

roman:

ethan:

gimme all of that please!!!

[faiszt]

✦ ⠀.⠀° ⠀BOT DUMP :⠀ by⠀﹫⠀faiszt ⠀/ᐠ - ˕ -マ⠀♡

NOTES⠀. ᰰ⠀ so... don't judge me for having art donaldson as my comfort character, it's already inevitable. (for real)

PS.⠀remember, bots are not real. take care of yourself.⠀🩶

▸⠀CHALLENGERS⠀*⠀˖⠀🎾

𝅭⠀hello, you⠀.⠀art donaldson⠀૮⠀anyone was really replaceable to you, except him. art donaldson, your idol, was all that mattered to you. your room was like a shrine to him, with his posters and rackets similar to the ones he had once used. you knew everything about him and his life, right down to the library he visited constantly—you were the new librarian. poor boy.⠀♡ gender neutral!

▸⠀FORMULA 1⠀*⠀˖⠀🏁

𝅭⠀see me in hindsight⠀.⠀franco colapinto⠀૮⠀nothing lasts forever, does it? you wished you had thought that before your affair with him, but now it was all over and he was knocking on your door again.⠀♡ gender neutral!

▸⠀MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE⠀*⠀˖⠀💬

𝅭⠀winter comes⠀.⠀winter soldier⠀૮⠀his life was never simple, never peaceful and in the midst of it all, he found peace in you, in your presence, in being with you. but, the truth was clear: when winter comes, bucky is gone. you ran away from it, from him and everything else. no use, he needed you and he found you.⠀♡ female!user

𝅭⠀lovers ≈ archenemies⠀.⠀black widow⠀૮⠀twenty years ago, she loved you with her life and never forgot you for a single day—but, things changed, you were a monster, a bloodthirsty monster who felt betrayed by her and would kill anyone who reminded you of that, who reminded you of natasha romanoff, your archenemy.⠀♡ female!user

▸⠀OUTER BANKS⠀*⠀˖⠀🗝️

𝅭⠀dollface⠀.⠀rafe cameron⠀૮⠀he didn't care about lovers or dating, such trivial things, no matter how much topper talked about it—he couldn't care less. until your beach ball landed right next to him and he mentally cursed himself for not being the first to talk to you, an angel right in front of him.⠀dollie!user ♡ female!user

𝅭⠀pretty girl treatment⠀.⠀rafe cameron⠀૮⠀caring, loving and calm, no one ever imagined that someone would use those words to describe him—and that's exactly what you did. rafe wasn't a prince charming, much less acted like one, but he'd give you a shiny crown if you wanted it, anything for his quiet doll.⠀dollie!user ♡ female!user

▸⠀SCREAM⠀*⠀˖⠀🔪

𝅭⠀throwing knives⠀.⠀billy loomis⠀૮⠀in secret, you were there. living in the shadow of his relationship, he didn't love sidney, he never would—in fact, he swore to love you, the other person in his life, the one who knew about his bloody plans, the one who loved him even in his eternal insanity. as franz kafka said before: you are the knife i turn inside myself; that is love.⠀♡ gender neutral!

[angelbarelywrites]

♡ slashers scenarios | your first time together is…your first time (part 2)

♡ fandoms; Friday the 13th, House of Wax, Black Christmas, Scream, Dead by Daylight, Hannibal (TV) /Silence of the Lambs, Texas Chainsaw Massacre (og), slashers (general)

♡ characters; Jason Vorhees, Bo Sinclair, Vincent Sinclair, Danny Johnson, Billy Lenz, Hannibal Lecter, Bubba Sawyer

♡ reader; gender neutral

♡ cw; graphic sexually content!!, mentions of vouyerism, documentation kink (yay Danny), manipulation, breeding kinkish content, lots of cumming inside, light pet play elements

♡ notes; seven babes in one post wowowowow! i’m just trying to get caught up with everyone else before i start doing new prompts. but! i have a big list of new ones do not fear

these weren’t written in one sitting like some of my other fics so i’m sorry if the quality wildly varies

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

Jason Vorhees

> It’s been gentle coaxing towards each step of the relationship with Jason

> And while you have the patience of a saint when it comes to that man, you’re also incredibly pent up. You’re just as much of a virgin as him and starting to wish he’d fix that.

> But you keep it to yourself, not wanting the pressure him into anything and getting yourself off when he’s not there. It worked well enough before after all.

> One day he comes home when you’re in the middle of mastrubating and you quickly scramble to hide the fact

> He knows somethings up right away, you’re covering yourself with a blanket and red faced…He’s repressed, not stupid.

> You apologize meekly and expect him to walk away - instead he grabs the blanket and pulls you forward by your thighs

> “J-Jason- baby? Are you going to-?”

> He pushes his mask up and goes down on you like a man starved… he may or may not have been home earlier than you realized, listening to you whimpering and moaning his name

> And getting you off ends up getting him very excited- excited enough that he doesn’t care about anything but doing it again

> And if you want him inside you, he’s more than happy to oblige.

> You shyly straddle him and sink onto his cock, holding onto him tightly

> He hides his face in your neck as you slowly move, murmuring sweet words of encouragement to him

> “Jason, it’s so good- you feel so good-“

> After a bit he holds your hips, fingers digging in as you get him closer and closer

> You gasp as he comes inside by accident, too shy to admit you liked the feeling

> He doesn’t even pull out as he holds you, knowing that as soon as he can, he’ll be helping you ride him again

Bo Sinclair

> It slips out when you’re cuddling and watching but not watching some silly movie with copious sex scenes

> “What’s your favorite position, darlin’?”

> “Hm? Oh, I dunno?”

> “Top three then-“

> “Bo I haven’t even-“. You blush bright red as he slowly grins

> He doesn’t leave it along the rest of the day- he has cute little innocent virgin partner

> He likes it way too much- and you like his fixation on it too much

> When you get him alone again you huff and straddle him “Stop teasin. Show me your favorite position, then.”

> You don’t have to tell him twice- and he’s a gentleman, letting you ride his face before he finally fucks you

> He’s got chest against your back and hand between your legs as he slowly uses you

> “Fuck- you’re squeezing my cock so tight- pretty little fucking virgin-“

> His dirty talk gets you both off…again, and again, and again…

> He doesn’t stop until you start whining and pushing his hand away, overstimulated and sore

> “Fine, fine…we’ll try the other top two tomorrow,”

Vincent Sinclair

> Honestly, Vince isn’t huge on sex

> When you offhandedly mention you haven’t done anything before he doesn’t mind and he doesn’t get overly excited like some people.

> He let’s you make the first move

> …or at least he’s going to, but you don’t say anything about it for a long while

> He finally asks softly if you want him to touch you.. and meekly you say yes

> You’re not sure who’s happier- you as he makes you come with just his hand, or him getting to watch you

> After a few days of this you finally get the nerve to ask to do more- his good side goes bright red at the idea of you touching him and you giggle and praise him the entire time.

> But about halfway through he makes you stop and pins you- still gentle but very daring for him

> You giggle again “…wanna go all the way?”

>He nods eagerly and he positions you- very gentle missionary with his forehead against yours

> Even inside you he stops so he doesn’t cum, coaxing you over the edge twice before he gets too close

> The third time you cum you wrap your legs around him and make sure he can’t pull out

> He’s so apologetic after he cums inside- but quite pleased in the same breath

Danny Johnson

> The conversation comes up when he asks you to model for him- a boudoir shoot, naturally

> You’re his muse already- but he wants to shoot more than just your pretty face and the hickies he leaves

> He’s surprised when you’re shy and look away, mumbling that you aren’t pretty enough for that

> “Course you are babydoll- no way no one’s ever told you that. Unless you were screwing them with the lights off-“

> “Danny I haven’t screwed anyone.” You pout

> He tries his best to hide his perverse excitement and looks determined- he’s got an idea…Those usually don’t end well

> Next thing you know he’s pulled a mirror to face the bed and has you on his lap, kissing at your neck and feeling you up.

> He spreads your legs and makes you look as he starts to touch you- you’re not sure if it’s the lewd situation or just him that makes you cum faster than you have ever before

> He makes just as much of a show of cleaning up the mess you’ve made on his hand, and you can feel how hard he is against your ass

> You pull yourself together enough to pout and grind down on him- that’ll show him

> Your revenge quickly backfires as he manhandles you to your hands and knees, grinding against you in a much more expert manner

> It doesn’t take long before you’re babbling beneath him, begging to take him

> He takes his sweet time teasing you- once he’s finally inside you’re pushing yourself back against him, fucking yourself with him

> He lets you do the work- it makes it easier for him to enjoy the show

> At least until he’s about to cum

> Then he pulls you up, making you watch in the mirror with one hand and holding you against him with the other

> “Fuck- look at you- that’s my good fucking baby (/girl/boy)!”

> When he pulls out it splatters across the mirror and he grins and gets a picture- just your bodies in the reflection

> If you thought you’re getting away to rest though…you were mistaken- he had a lot more pictures to take, and a lot more methods to get you to make pretty faces for them

Billy Lenz

> Billy takes things fast. He’s depraved an eager man.

> You aren’t very far into the relationship when he lets his hands wander while you’re cuddling

> He frowns when you push his hands away insistently- you’d talked so confidently about this on the phone…

> “I wanna touch my pretty toy-“

> You mumble something he can’t hear- making you pout as he tilts his head and leans in closer curiously

> “You’ve never- oh.” His grin is huge and excited

> After some convincing you make it a game- how long can you two go without going too far?

> While you want to have sex with him, you’re nervous, so you figure that’ll buy you time to muster up enough courage

> But Billy being Billy, it isn’t long until he finds a shortcut- he bites and kisses and laps your neck and grinds up on you every single time he gets the chance

> If it was PG-13 before, you were heading fast to an R rating

> Finally you can’t stand it any more as he’s got you on his knee, pushing it up as he oh so innocently rubs your hips and kisses you

> “Billyyyy- please — I need it-“

> “Need what?” For once he’s acting coy- so you quickly show him as you undo his pants

> He’s all giggles and moans when you blow him- cumming down your throat quickly

> And before you can move he flips you, going down on you and to your chagrin already hard before you cum once

> But he’s not a monster- or maybe he is, because before he’s even got it in you you’re whining that it’s all too much

> He licks away your overwhelmed tears as he slowly pushes in, cooing softly for once

> Though as soon as your comfortable he’s saying the filthiest things in order to coax louder and louder moans out of you

> Without warning or real permission he cums inside, grinning at the mess and finger fucking whatever leaks out back inside as he coaxes you to another orgasm

> Once he’s finally done late into the night, he holds you tight and continues to coo praises - Billy’s baby was so good! -and he knew they’d be just as good for him in the morning

Hannibal Lecter

> Hannibal knows almost everything about you, especially if you ever began as his patient

> Even if you don’t tell him expressly, he has his theories- but he’s not trying to be too forward

> It’s going to be your idea when he shamelessly uses you :)

> He has it planned to the T as well- you’re having a sweet little date night in and he’s admiring you on the couch

> Perched on his lap you giggle and shiver as he gently brushes your neck, and your thigh, and your stomach- each a little “accident”

> Not that you’re complaining or he’s apologizing for the increasingly lingering touches

> “…darling? Ah- we’ve never done anything before but…”

> “But what my love?”

> “Can you pretty please touch me?”

> He’s so proud of his little pet and tells you as much as he lays you down right there, going a step forward and using his mouth

> Of course he wants, needs to taste you

> But he doesn’t let you come- not yet

> No, he makes sure you’re already riding him slow and deep by the time he makes you come for the first time

> He stops and showers you in praise before helping you move again

> He wants you to crave him inside- and by the way you’re already whimpering with every little move he thinks it’s working

> He’s territorial- coming inside isn’t even a question, even if he pretends it it

> “Good puppy…Very good. Master’s going to cum- are you going to let me cum in that pretty little hole?”

> As you manage a blissed out sound, you’re sent over the edge and he takes the moment to cum inside

> You only hum an acknowledgment as he pulls out and lays you down, practically tucking you in with him

> What a good pet you made…

Bubba Sawyer

> Bubba is so scared of sex at first…Well, small correction- he’s scared of having sex with you.

> I mean Drayton’s idea of sex ed was simply not telling him about it because he didn’t ask “Sex is- well nobody knows!”

> And from what he’s read in books and heard on the radio, it’s sinful and dirty and ruins you

> And he’d never want to dirty you. You were the nicest, cleanest thing in his life.

> So when you ask him if he’s had sex he vehemently shakes his head and you tell him you haven’t either. Good!

> “Well- ah- would you want to? With me, I mean?”

> He’s absolutely shocked- didn’t you know it was dirty?

> “We don’t have to- I just- I really like you. I wanna make you feel good.”

> Maybe he had some details wrong. That’s what he tries to reason as he lets you take his mask off and undo his pants. He’d try it, but if he felt wrong, he’d stop so you both stayed clean…

> It takes all his will not to immediately buck up into your throat when you put him in your mouth.

> You’re sloppy and clumsy and he’s just the same, groaning and whining and gripping the sheets. Before he can finish you pull off and he pouts.

> “C-can we- I mean- can I-“ You huff and get frustrated at your own embarrassment, starting to slip your shirt off and hoping he gets the message.

> He goes red and nods quickly, practically tackling you and kissing you sweetly before he moves into position

> You help him ease himself into you , whimpering and making sure he’s comfortable too

> “Oh my god- that’s it baby- just like that,”

> The praise makes him move harder than he means to but god you’re grateful

> When he does come he pulls out and paints your stomach- and as soon as he realizes you haven’t done the same he uses his hand to correct that.

> He holds you tight and doesn’t let go the rest of the night, keen on trying more in the morning

[douceurrrr]

𝐮𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 | 𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐲

— the nerd with the big cock finally loses his virginity

warnings | unedited raw material, face fucking, spanking, doggy,fingering, breeding, first time, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!)

a/n | inspired by this audio link

you agreed to study this big test with ethan because he said that he knows a good way to study for the test and to be honest you didn’t really know how to study for the test, it was just too much to study but ethan insisted on helping you. ethan didn’t know where he found the balls to ask you to come over to his dorm to study but he did not thinking you were going to come anyways, a girl like you would never be around a guy like him he thought.

meanwhile ethan is chilling in his dorm until he heard a knock on his door, he walks over and opens it to see you with two binders labeled biochemistry on them. “oh hi, I didn’t really think you were going to come.” he sounded so surprised. “I needed help, didn’t i?” you replied with a smirk, letting yourself look behind him and in his dorm, you could tell he was very neat and clean. “I know you said you needed help studying but I didn’t think you would actually show up.” he nervously chuckled with his hand behind his head.

“are you busy or something? because I can totally come another ti-”

“no!”ethan cuts you off but instantly speaks again. “I mean no, you’re fine, I’m so happy you’re here.” he says, daydreaming a bit but realizes that you were still standing there. “oh sorry, please come in.” he says, stepping aside to let you in. “my uh roommate, chad isn’t here so it’s just us.” ethan says.

“chad as in meeks?” ethan rolled his eyes knowing he instantly lost a chance to hook up with you. “I know, it’s such a coincidence that they put the jock and the nerd together.” he huffed making you laugh a bit which was all he wanted to hear. “but in all seriousness my roommate is nice, he’s just never here.” ethan explains.

“oh um I’m sorry these dorms are so damn small, you can sit on my desk and I’ll sit on the couch?” ethan says making his way to the couch, his curls bouncing with each step. “actually I think I should sit next to you?” you wanted to be closer to ethan. “oh yeah sure, you can sit next to me if you want.” ethan replied with hope still in his mind that you are the slightest bit of attracted to him.

“yeah I forgot my laptop.” ouch that hurt. “oh yeah you want to sit next to me so we can share my laptop.” he nods as the hope that he had vanished but actually you just wanted to be close to him. you move next to him on the couch, getting closer and closer so you can “see the screen”

as you got closer and closer ethan felt his cheeks heat up. “I’m sorry, am I too close?” you said with your eyelashes fluttering at him. “uhm no, get uh as close as you need to.” ethan says, stumbling over his words. after a couple of minutes of silence Ethan notices you shivering a little bit which made his heart swell up to the thought of your discomfort, it’s not like you can get anymore closer to him because you two were basically hip to hip. “hey are you cold- here let me just.” you felt a arm slide onto your shoulders making you warm up a bit.

“is this comfy?” ethan says, voice laced with concern. you nodded. silence washed over the two of you and you can’t bear the tension anymore so you did the unthinkable and placed your hand on ethan’s thigh, hoping you’ll get to your goal. ethan felt a hand on his thigh and instantly sucked in his breath at the feeling. “a-are you hands still cold or something b-because your hand is pretty close to my uh cock.” ethan stutters while staring at your hand that was close to his erection.

“I’m sorry, is this fine?” you replied, acting like your gesture wasn’t intentional. “oh no no it’s fine it’s just uh your hand is pretty close to my erection a-and I don’t want it to uh shock you- oh now your touching it.” he says changing the subject once he felt you actually touch his bulge. ethan’s breathing starts to change and beads of sweat starts to form on his forehead. you see his facial expressions and instantly think that you fucked up, fuck he probably think I’m some sexual assaulter.

“t-that actually feels pretty good.” he breaths out and relief washes over you. you start to realize what you were feeling was pretty big making your eyes widen at the feeling. “a-all that is your erection?” no fucking way. “yes all that is my erection.” he replied with a gulp of his throat. then without thinking you asked, “c-can I see it?” ethan’s face turns beet red at your choice of words.

“y-you want to see it?” ethan says in disbelief. you just nod, not trusting your mouth anymore. “um well I guess you can see it.” he says, slightly nervous. he’s nervousness makes you a bit uneasy but it clicks in your brain, “are you a virgin?” ethan instantly babbles words. “what?! no I’m not completely a virgin.” what does he mean by “not completely a virgin”

“what do you mean by not completely a virgin?” you say, making air quotes with your fingers. “what do I mean? uh I uh tried with a few girl but uh my dick is just so big that I could never get more than just the tip in.” right when he said that you bursted out laughing. “are your joking?” you laughed while ethan says “no I’m not joking- why are you laughing.” you thought ethan was trying to be cocky with you but he wasn’t joking the slightest.

“so im not a virgin, s’just no one has been able to take it all before but uhm you still want to see it?” ethan says with you following with a nod. ethan puts his hand on his belt but pauses to say one more thing, “just don’t laugh, m’kay?” ethan says waiting for a confirmation, you mumbled something along the lines of scouts honor then tells him to get on with it. the sounds of a buckle unbuckling fills your ear as you watch ethan unbuckle his pants, he lift his hips to shove down his pants but waits a little to pull down his boxers, he takes off his boxers, he’s cock springs out of his boxers on it's own, slapping the skin of his stomach, you stared in awe.

“don’t laugh.” he says but noticed your lack of words, he’s huge. “s-see this is why I knew this wasn’t going to be a good idea.” ethan says and start to pull his boxers back up only for you to quickly stop him. your next words blows him away (pun intended) “I want to suck on it.” you say without thinking. “w-well you’re more than welcome to- AUH.” he didn’t have to tell you twice, your lips wrap around his head, sucking hard as your tongue flicks over his weeping slit. “oh god, you’re so good at that.” he groaned as you smirk up at him, before your head bobs down

“fuck that’s amazing.” he whimpers as the sounds of your mouth and spit clashing together fills the dorm room, thank god his roommate was away. “please don’t try to- shit- take it all.” ethan pleads. you then pulled away to let him know you were going to deepthroat him and of course he insisted that you shouldn’t. “it’s okay you don’t have t- SHIT.” you cut him off by pushing your head all the way down until your nose nestled against the light brown bush at his pelvis. his whimpers and moans increases every two seconds.

“f-fuck i can feel the back of your throat.” he grunts. every once in a while he’ll let out fuck baby or take that cock. later on you went to the extreme of fucking your face which he really insisted on not doing because he didn’t want to hurt you but soon enough he complied. “fuck you like this, don’t you?” you hun in response, sending vibrations through his cock making him extra simulation. soon enough his moans turns into m’gonna cum’s but you instantly stopped.

ethan eyes shot open. “why’d you stop, I’ve always wanted to cum down someone’s throat before.” he huffs in frustration but you had a better idea. “I want to sit on it.” you say, boldly. “oh? well uhm- no it’s just too big, I’ve tried this before and it’s just too big.” he says but you were already in the process of taking your pants off. “awe no don’t take your pants off, this is a bad idea but..” he trails off once he sees you bra. “well I guess you can try but s’just- just too bi- gosh you’re so wet.” you we’re fully naked next to him. “um before we start, can I just play with your pussy first?” he says softly while staring at you. you were sitting next to him with you legs apart, slightly leaned against the couch all comfortable.

“here- why don’t I just stroke my cock while I..” he trailes off to slide his his head down your stomach and onto your swelling clit. “you like that?” he says after hearing your whimpers followed with a nod. “I uh had to get good this- playing with the clit, swirling, flicking, rubbing so just uh lay your head on my shoulder.” he says and you complied, laying your head on his shoulder while he stroked his cock and play with your clit at the same time. soon enough he begins to slip a finger inside, saying how good it feels. “are you getting close? would two fingers help?” you instantly nod before his begins to slide another finger in but you needed more. “more please.” you whimpered.

“uhm you can try to get on it but I don’t th- FUCK.” you straddled him and guided his cock to you soggy cunt, pressing him in. you pussy sucks him in inch by inch. “just tell me if it’s too mu- holy shit it’s going all the way in fuck.” he watches as your pussy takes him whole and bottoms out. he babbles about how amazing you are as you start bouncing on him with a visible bulge poking out your belly. sounds of skin and fluids slapping together fills the room as your tits bounced in his face. his hands comes around to grab your ass and hips like he’s guiding you. “gosh you’re so beautiful- fuck.” he says before his eyes rolled to the back of his head.

“yes yes yes fuck!” you yelped but still being mindful that you’re in a dorm. suddenly you feel ethan stop you. “wait wait, can we do it doggy, I want to see my dick going in and out of you.” his filthy words made your pussy clench making him wince. you gave him the okay and he turned you around on the couch. he aligned himself back to your pussy before pushing it in. “fuck you’re amazing.” he mumbled underneath his breath as he bottoms out. he grabbed your hips to start thrusting and you were close again. “fuck are you close again? please cum.” he pleads, bringing his hand around to play your clit to simulate you more. “shit ethan fuck!” you yell into the couch pillow which was muffling most of your cries. after a couple of good, pounding thrust a wave of ecstasy washes over you as ethan walks you through your orgasm with his along the way.

“fuck I’m close.” three words he thought he would never say with a girl. after two thrusts he cums in you, cum painting your walls. “I came in you, is that okay?” he says whilst trying to catch his breath. you couldn’t speak so you mumbled an uh uh of approval. he then turns you around and pulls you in a long awaited kiss with his hands around your waist and yours around his neck.

“be mine.” he whispered in you ear. you grinned.

-

[realhotgirlshitah]

This TikTok was not good for my Ethan Landry/Luke Castellan obsession I need them to double team me so bad. Need some of yall to get on your zoom and write some filthy SMUT thank you 🐬🌈❤️🥰

[apocalypse-shuffle]

AMBER FREEMAN | GHOSTFACE (scream 2022)

—

“Sent A Whole World Crying - pt1” (unrequited Amber Freeman x Fem!Reader) and (background Mindy Meeks-Martin x Fem!Reader)

| You accidentally let Amber know that you think she’s Ghostface (through DM’s); she’s not about to let you live through that mistake, obviously…probably.

| NSFW, canon typical violence, psychological trauma, unrequited feelings, angst (TW: general sadism, malicious concern, some taunting, reader-insert is harmed, slight metaphorical smut - some of the descriptors and dialogue I use are suggestive enough that it could be triggering.)

| Listen I’ve seen the analysis of who killed who in the movie, but for the sake of this fic I don’t care. (pic source: scream 2022 + promotional poster)

| Happy Early October!!

| 4k+ words

You:

- Mindy I’m telling you! - She keeps disappearing during the kills and then coming back all twitchy - Why aren’t you answering? You were all for looking into this shit earlier - Mindy! - I know you love Tara and they used to date or whatever but you know I’m right. - She’s probably Ghostface - Come on girl I’m being serious

You’ve been texting Mindy for the last two hours now and she’s still yet to answer you.

You didn’t know if it was because of how much shit you gave her for her insistence on trying to figure out who’d attempted to kill Tara a few nights ago (as if murder accusations were just mere gossip), or because she just hadn’t checked her texts yet, but this was bugging you to much for you to drop.

Hypocritical or not.

At first you’d blown off the signs, but red flags were red flags and eventually if they added up enough they started to look like blood splattered on the walls. Which didn’t help with the way your friend’s particular brand of paranoia was starting to rub off on you.

Now, you’ve managed to work yourself up so much at Amber’s most recent disappearing act that you’d nearly ran home so you could safely text Mindy.

In a circumstance that was beginning to be rarer and rarer for you both you couldn’t be up underneath each other right now so her DM’s would have to suffice.

She was busy with the film club at the moment, but she’d never once begrudged you texting her whenever and after going out with her and her friends last night then stewing over your observations all day you needed to tell somebody what you thought.

You weren’t very close to the group Mindy hung out with — you fucked with your own company just fine — but you and Mindy had become close over your mutual hate of your philosophy class and eventually she’d stumbled through asking you to hang out as a group (still blunt as ever even despite her raging blush) so you’d been with her friends at the bar only because she asked.

Friendship obligations, and all that.

It wasn’t like you didn’t want to figure out who would do something so horrible just as much as they did either. It was just that you only truly cared for Mindy and Chad’s sakes.

Or at least as much as most of them wanted to figure this situation out.

Amber talked a big game about caring for Tara’s safety above all else and vetting everyone the smaller teen came into contact with, but after that jerk who got y’all kicked out left Amber had disappeared too. She came back overly excited — weird considering her best friend was almost brutally murdered — and there had been smudges on her shoes. You couldn’t confirm that it was that guy's blood, but you certainly felt like it was. The glint of something thick and wet was pretty hard to miss even on black boots.

Which was why you needed Mindy to answer you. You couldn’t bank on Amber fucking off around the same time the news reported Ghostface killed that man being a happy little coincidence.

Amber was pushy and rude on a good day and on a bad you’d seen her be downright malicious before, tripping someone down the stairs after he’d bumped into her type of malicious.

Plus ever since you started hanging out with Mindy you’ve noticed her staring at you more often, and no matter the contemplative look on Amber’s face whenever you caught her staring, her attention still made the hairs on the back of your neck prickle.

Sighing, you unlock your phone and check your messages again, pacing around your room all the while, before something catches your eye.

That wasn’t Mindy’s handle. It just looked nearly identical.

Shit, no wonder she wasn’t responding.

Jolting to a stop in the middle of the room, you rush to delete the messages.

It’s as you’re deleting the fourth that the green ‘active now’ dot shows up beside the unfamiliar username and then ‘read’ pops up underneath your last three texts.

“Damnit,” you grumble, still deleting the last couple texts. It won’t do much now, but if you were fast enough the person at least won’t be able to show anyone else or prove what you said.

Your stomach flips a little as you see the three dots pop up in the vacant space left behind by your erasing spree.

You freeze.

And then, heart in your stomach, you just react, exiting out of the conversation and going to the person's account and blocking them.

Oh god, you were so fucked. Shit. You really hoped that wouldn't come back to bite you on the ass.

You sit down on your bed with a huff, heart beating so fast it feels like you just ran the mile in gym class again. Dropping your phone on your comforter you shake out your trembling fingers. You suppose that was a sign that maybe you should just keep your opinion to yourself.

You rub your hands down your face.

Yeah, okay. Problem kind of (maybe) avoided for now. You’d just have to hope for the best.

You grunt, “Okay, I need a nap.”

And then you take that nap. As is your right.

─────

You’re jarred from sleep a few hours later by the sound of a continuous series of buzzing, and glare sleep crusted eyes up at your blurred ceiling fan.

Mindy had better not be calling you for some contrite shit again, like helping her beat Chad at whatever late night game they’d decided to occupy their twin insomnia with at — rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you look at your phone — eleven pm.

Honestly though, who else would be ballsy enough to start rapid texting you like this in the goddamn middle of the night? The other girl knew you went to sleep around nine on school nights, but Mindy did whatever she—

It feels like your heart stops beating as your Face ID unlocks your phone and you finally read the messages. Ones sent from what looks like a throwaway account with a handle you don’t remotely recognize.

The particular messages, on the other hand, are horribly familiar.

Unknown:

- Mindy I’m telling you! - She keeps disappearing during the kills and then coming back all twitchy - Why aren’t you answering? You were all for looking into this shit earlier - Mindy! - I know you love Tara and they used to date or whatever but you know I’m right. - She’s probably Ghostface - Come on girl I’m being serious - •••

Wide eyed, you can’t do anything but watch as another series of messages are sent.

Unknown:

- you think I’m some bitch faced little girl - well I’ll show you

And just like that you hear the power in the house cut off and watch with stilted breath as the service bar at the top of your screen goes down.

Immediately afterwards a message pops up on your phone to inform you that you’ve lost service even.

Shit.

You blink at your screen for another few seconds, brows furrowing, before whipping your head up to look around your room. Flashes of Tara battered to hell in the hospital and the memory of Sam telling you all about the attempted attack on her in that very place, mere hours after Tara had been checked in, fill your brain to the brim.

Mind feeling stuffed with static you let out a harsh breath through your nose, hand squeezing hard onto your device, and take a glance out the broken blind in your window to clock that there for sure wasn’t a power outage happening anywhere else but at your house.

So someone was definitely fucking with you.

Fuck, you gotta think.

How the killer even got the dm’s you sent if they weren’t Amber wasn’t a question for now, but how you’d get out of this mess certainly was. With your younger sibling down the hall from you, and your parents still out of the house clubbing, there was only one other person you had to worry about.

Now you just had to figure out how to get to them without tipping off whoever the hell else was also in your house.

Hold on.

You never checked who exactly it was you’d been texting before.

Opening Snapchat, you simultaneously tumble as quietly as possible from your bed, only briefly getting caught up by your blanket tangling around your legs.

When you check you see that, yup, it was Amber’s account (who’s handle was now ridiculously similar to Mindy’s and was only saved on your phone in the first place because Mindy had asked you to send her one of your summer assignments from this year to copy).

Goddamnit.

“Why me?” you whisper; but truly, you should’ve made sure you were talking to the right person if you were going to start making fucking murder accusations.

This shit was on you.

Teeth grinding, you stuff your phone into the pocket of your shorts then start crawling around the floor till you can begin prying open your door. Opening it as far as you know it can go before it starts creaking then inching yourself the rest of the way into the hall.

Sure you had a problem if this wasn’t some elaborate prank — which you doubted, but the possibility was always there considering the kind of assholes you went to school with — but you couldn’t jump out of your window and just leave your sibling to die.

It’s when your mission is about halfway accomplished, and you’re nearly to your sibling's room, that you hear a creak.

You freeze alongside it. Breathing with your mouth slightly open to minimize the amount of noise you’re making.

Should you just make a run for their room? Should you duck back into yours? Should you shout their name and hope for the best?

In your periphery a flash of white streaks across the dark abyss that is the rest of your house.

Then, you’re only allowed enough time to start the beginnings of a scream before you’re being thrown into the hallway wall, cutoff exclamation choking in your throat and something blunt and heavy slamming into your forehead before you can catalog anything but the sound of fabric billowing in a rush and the feel of hands grabbing at you.

The shout you let out at the second hit is muffled by a gloved hand slapping over your mouth, the impact stinging your face and making your eyes water.

In that same motion your attacker catches you by the hip, hauling, and combined with the force they barreled into you with that’s all they need to make you trip backwards.

You slam into the wall with an ‘oof,’ but your attacker hardly pauses before using their body to flatten yours against the wall and force your wrists together in front of you.

As you’re blinking the spots from your eyes and trying to make out the person in the darkness a metallic click sounds through the air. And all you can do is flinch as two icy metal bands are cinched around your wrists in quick succession and your vision finally adjusts.

The metal locking together pinches at your skin but there’s so much else going on that you don’t even grimace, too busy trying to find your breath after the sight in front of you stole it.

A face. White, screaming in agony, and floating in the shadow like something straight out of Munch’s worst nightmares.

There’s a Ghostface mask less than a foot away from you.

Real and unavoidable and close enough for the starkness to hurt your eyes against the blanket of night all around you.

In Woodsboro it's a familiar sight, whether on the screen during local stabathons and tv edits at home or in costume shops around any one of the many killing spree anniversaries or Halloween.

Up close as it is to you in this scenario, however, it almost doesn’t feel real.

The mask is tilted in a way that feels like the person behind it is examining you; like a dissection. A hand sprouts from the darkness and shifts it back straight over the person’s face, however, and instantly your worry is no longer an assumption.

If you’d thought before that the tilt felt violating, the full force of Ghostface’s direct gaze actually on you feels heavy enough to strip flesh.

Like acid dripping past your throbbing head, over your face, and down the upper half of your body.

From how crooked the mask was you’d guess that’s what hit you, what’s caused the drowning thump thump pounding through your skull and the stinging sensation traveling across your forehead.

The freak had head butted you.

Slow as you can, you shift your head to the side — hoping there isn’t a streak of blood against the wall left in your wake — just enough to press your temple into the cool wall with a groan.

It’s then Ghostface’s head truly tilts and you get to know what the weight of their curiosity really feels like.

The movement itself is silent, but the click of a tongue and the hand that comes up to press over your forehead is not.

At the first touch of covered fingers to your dark skin your blood practically flash-freezes in your veins.

Gritting your teeth against your possible concussion you make a valiant attempt to meld into the wall, but a hand making itself remembered once more on your hip keeps you from fully running away, and the other reaching for you doesn’t relent.

“You’re so pretty like this, Y/n,” Ghostface’s modulated voice says, deep and smooth, as your assailant pushes on the sore area where you temple meets the wall until you turn to face them again; their tongue wrapping possessively around the call of your name without hesitation. “Submitting for me.”

“Jesus,” you whimper, shaking against the insistent feel of their thumb rubbing against the angry vein showing on your temple. “How do you know my—?”

“—Uh uh,” their overbearing timbre cuts in as they pull themselves closer to you, “keep asking questions like that and you’ll ruin the surprise.”

What fucking surprise? Did this asshole plan on dragging this out all night?

Could you figure a way out of this mess by then?

Biting the inside of your lip, you meet the abyss of a gaze in front of you in spite of the chill it sends down your spine. Try to think past the sensation of spiders crawling through your bloodstream that Ghostface’s generous touch elicits.

You swallow, saliva thick past the budding lump in your throat.

“Can you stop?” you force out.

The killer freezes.

You nearly pass out trying to keep yourself from recoiling or apologizing or both by holding your breath before they finally talk again.

“Why? You don’t want me to be concerned?”

Concerned?!

“I don’t,” you say, lips stiff.

What you wanted was to have this over with, not whatever twisted brand of care this Ghostface operated on.

A beat passes where you think they’ll keep pressing, maybe make a point of knocking you again, but then they…stop. Slim hands retreat from your space entirely and down to the killer’s sides.

You doubt their hands will stay still for long, though, and you haven’t thought up how you’re gonna get around them yet — call for your sibling to go get help, maybe?

You cut your eyes at the ghostly specter, at their height and intense focus on you, and remembering the speed they’d ambushed you with earlier you reconsider.

Risking your sibling’s life over a hunch that you already weren’t confident on wasn’t happening. There was no part of you that believed you’d stand a chance at overpowering this Ghostface long enough for no one but you to get hurt.

Something glints in the corner of your eye and you come out of your head with a start. There’s a knife in the killer’s hand now, twisting and twirling around deft fingers before their gaze swings back to you and the blade swings out to lazily point your way.

“Planning?”

“No.”

They laugh, likely not trusting your answer for a moment.

“Fine. Don’t tell me. We can play a game instead.” They pivot once, angling their body towards the door closest, and your heart skips a beat. “I spy with my little eye something that squeaks and creaks and leads to fresh meat.”

And just in case you managed to miss the killer’s meaning, they use the tip of their knife to point towards your sibling’s closed bedroom door twice in a motion too similar to stabbing for your liking.

“What do you think?” they ask, and take a slow deliberate step to the door right afterwards.

“Don’t!”

Lunging across the space Ghostface has made between you, you grab hold of their wrist with trembling hands and bite the proverbial bullet.

The “Please,” comes falling out your mouth like water, and only a tinge of something sour follows it.

Ghostface doesn’t do so much as twitch when they glance back at you, though, shoulders shaking under the cloak.

“‘Please’,” they repeat, roiling laughter clear even through the distortion, “but I thought you didn’t want my concern?”

“I’ll scream,” you counter, pushing past the sinking in your gut to bring your other hand up to form a double clamp around the killer.

Bottomless perpetually gaping eye cutouts stare back at glistening ebony brown eyes for one breath— four, until you yank.

There is no plan when you rush past them, just the sinking feeling that something was going to have to give soon and the knowledge that you’d be damned if it was the person in the room you're running to.

Your hand is on the doorknob, your sibling’s name on the tip of your tongue, when a sound cracks through the air. Your leg buckles, there’s a pressure at the back of your knee, the heat of another body latches onto your back, a hand claps over your mouth, and then you’re tipping over.

Ghostface brings you down with so little fanfare you’d be embarrassed if you had the wherewithal. Wrestles your flailing ass to the floor right in front of the door and keeps you down with their legs pinning your hips.

It’s not until you hit the floor that everything catches up with you.

Heat like you’ve never known screams from the bend of your knee like a piping kettle, and the wail that scratches its way up your throat when you instinctively try to get away by gaining purchase on the tile with your injured leg leaves you shaking into the floor.

With a chuckle your attacker shushes you, gloved hand made wet from your drool and tears patting against your open mouth.

“Shhh.” They shift back and you whimper at the feel of every millimeter of movement that even that small motion forces your foot to make. “You wouldn’t want your little sibling to hear, would you?”

The voice modulator makes the question sound even more taunting and the deep timber of it curls your toes — the twitch making your left leg burn — coming from so close to your ear.

Gloved fingers run along the serrated edges of the hole in your cracked knee where the knife’s still embedded, circling the pounding back of your leg until shivers rack up your body.

The touch is light.

You want to saw your leg off so you never have to deal with even the memory of the feel of it ever again.

“I’d hate to have to deal with him if he comes to investigate the strange noises, yeah?” they say, pausing right afterwards.

It’s a prompt if you’ve ever heard one. They even lift their hand from your leg.

Mind whirling with thoughts of the blood seeping out the sides of your knee to stain the floors and the agony emitting from the stab wound it takes you a few seconds to answer.

You force your words out past your shaky lips eventually, however. The stuttering agreement tasting like ash on your tongue.

“Good girl,” the modulated voice damn near coos in response, and part of you wishes you’d gotten stabbed through the ears instead.

There’s shuffling from above you, the sounds of fabric slipping over something barely registering over the rushing of blood through your ears.

You’re bleeding—

You’ve been stabbed—

Fuck, your leg is on fire—

Without an ounce of remorse deft fingers press down on where the back of your knees’ been stabbed through again, hand holding tight to the side of your leg, and a whimper falls unbidden past your lips.

Breathy, throaty, feminine laughter sounds right beside your ear as your killer settles over you.

Soft lips brush the shell of your ear and wispy black locks of hair fall into your peripheral.

“I guess it was me after all,” a voice you recognize croons, barren of any modulation.

Holy shit, Mindy had been right.

“A- Amber…?”

Your voice is small where you get it out from between pants for breath, leg throbbing hard enough to cut your focus completely.

Nothing feels real except for the throbbing, not the floor beneath you or the drool running down your chin.

“Mhm,” she giggles, breath ticking the side of your neck and making you shiver. It only takes a second for her to shiver back, breathe against your skin stuttering when she groans and presses down harder on your wound. You mewl and can feel exactly how Amber’s smile spreads. “Aww, just like that, Hun. Now we’re getting to the good part.”

Amber rises up from over you and then relentlessly grabs ahold of your shoulders and has you twist around until your upper body is facing her, and fifty percent of your concentration has to go to keeping your lower body in the opposite direction than the rest of you so you don’t aggravate your knee anymore.

Hair wild and damp with sweat atop her head the smile she gives you is all teeth in the faint moonlight that halos her face.

“Bet you’re reconsidering who you got close to now, huh?”

You grit your teeth, trying and failing to get enough leverage so you can spit in her face.

At the angle she’s forced you into her weight over your hips was more effective than you’d thought, though. Spitting from where you were would only serve in getting you smacked in the face with your own saliva.

“Gah— fuck! It’s not Mindy’s fault you’re a fucking sociopath,” you say behind clenched teeth.

You wonder if your friend would care if you died. Would Mindy cry when your death was announced? Would she immediately suspect Amber again? Confront her?

You’d been the one to comfort her when the news about Tara had come through before Chad could get to you guys. She’d struggled for a few minutes before a few tears had trickled down her cheeks, tears that she’d wiped away with a personal vengeance until you took one of her hands and wove your fingers together. Mindy had given you this wide look you’d never seen before, hazel eyes lost, before finally letting herself sob curled up to your side with her hand in yours. Did you hold that same amount of space in her mind, though?

In her heart?

Amber clicks her tongue, and instantly you’re reminded that whether Mindy and you could’ve ever been more than friends won’t matter anymore. “Wrong answer, Sweetie,” she says, and without another word rips the knife from your body in one pull.

Just barely you manage to stop the scream you want to let out by clamping down on your lower lip, teeth completely bypassing putting an indent into the skin and instead cutting directly through the plush of it as you buck uncontrollably against Amber.

Chest heaving and with tears sprouting in your eyes and beginning to pool, you watch for her next move and are heartbroken to say you aren’t disappointed.

With a flourish she brings the knife up to your face. You watch it with wide shaky eyes, heart sounding louder than your labored breaths in your ears.

The sharp side of the blade runs feather light down the side of your face, her gaze intent on it. On how the silver contrasts with the little streams of blood it leaves in its wake against your dewy brown skin. On how your lashes flutter anxiously, and the muscles in your face twitch beneath her touch.

“I didn’t mean that,” she says softly. She shifts the blade so that she can splay the flat of it over your mouth and purses her lips, eyes glittering and crazed and a little hurt. “I meant that you should’ve picked me, Sweetheart. I like you. And I like that you were thinking about me so much you figured me out. If you had just picked me I would’ve spared you,” she whispers last, face closer to yours now, before leaning in to press a kiss to the other side of the blade over your quivering lips.

The scent of your own blood makes your stomach roil, but the feel of her breath fanning your skin and the ecstatic expression that takes over her face when she leans away to lick her lips forces a sob from you.

Shuddering, you look up at her, a tear finally breaking free to roll down your face.

There is no one to hold you when you break.

Amber giggles, the flash of her teeth bloody.

“Just let me do it,” she whispers, voice low as she moves to run the warm tip of the knife down your side. “Be good for me, be mine this once, and I won’t go into that room and paint those walls red with your sibling’s blood.”

And so you cooperate; biting down into your forearm as muffled cries and wails tear up your throat. Amber plunges the blade deep, hits organs and cracks through bone with low grunts, and each stab feels like a little more of your soul drifting away.

You jolt, she adjusts her weight to accommodate your pained reaction like it’s practiced. You bite down so hard you break skin, teeth sinking into your body and feeling like masochistic relief that at least this pain was your own doing, she leans over to lick around your teeth with a groan. She gives and you take and you don’t scream out loud.

What a perfect victim you’ve made.

The tears never stop flowing from your eyes. So much salt they begin to burn alongside the bite in your arm that’s steadily mixing with blood and snot, and the entire rest of your body that’s near indistinguishable apart from the pain.

Nothing feels real except for the way Amber rides out your death spasms and the never ending stream of pleas to keep yourself silent that have long since turned into a sequenced tune in your head that you’re already forgetting.

As Amber’s honeyed taunts follow you under you know without debate that you have never known pain so intimate as what she’s brought upon you, and nothing so tender as death’s incoming embrace.

At least your younger sibling would be okay.

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!! I tried posting this yesterday, but it wasn’t showing up under any of the tags so I’m trying again. ❤︎

I missed some shit when editing for sure, but I will come back to catch them later. I also don’t know how I feel about the way this flows, but maybe I just need to not look at it for a bit idk.

So the reader-insert may not have actually died here, but I don’t know for sure just yet. I would like for the second part to be a GF!Mindy x Reader-Insert x Jealous!Amber type deal though.

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it!

[euaphora]

ܸ ྀི - I KNOW YOU MINE WHEN YOU LIE LIKE THAT

legs over shoulders

on the road

over his briefs(fav one yet)

over the dresser

recoil

riding on my feet

toe curling

please

sideways