Halloween Hunt
ghostface x fem!reader
TW: knife play, primal, mask kink, chasing, rough sex, vulgar words, choking, blood play (v. minor dw), smut, alcohol mentioning, unprotected, p in v, scare/fear kink, hunted, v. rough
WC:1461
Pt2
Halloween night:
The pink bag stares at you, laying on your duvet covers. Your foot is nervously going up and down. you r at a safe distance watching it you hadn’t opened it yet, too scared to do it. Come on y/n just do it, like it's going to be Jason’s hand or head. Wait, could it? You urge yourself to open the delicate pink bag. It’d be best to open it just to make sure it’s not, you go on. Then you go for it knowing you’d just spiral in your own thoughts. The tissue paper is put to the side and inside the bag you pull out a beautiful silk and lace pink dress. It was smooth as you put it on your body. Trying it on it fit perfectly, almost as if it was tailored just for your body.
If I was going to be his princess I’ll show him just how much I can be. You rummage through your messy dorm and combine random pieces to make your costume whole: white sparkly heels, fairy wings, and a tiara. “Wow! You look like a magical fairy princess queen!” your bestie exclaims barging into your room, leaving the door open.
You twirl happily, “thank you… what are you meant to be?” You look at her slip-dress with the picture of some old white man.
“A Freudian slip,” my dorm neighbor stops in the hallway. Both of us look stunned at the intrusion of the stranger. “Oh my god! That’s right!” your friend claps happily.
You both leave your room passing the bottle back and forth heading to Devin’s frat house on the edge of the campus.
Once you get there you’re on alert suddenly remembering the game. A couple bros try to feel you up as you’re both dancing in the sweaty crowd. Sheila pushes them off shouting, “trust me you didn’t need a mask you’re already scary and ugly normally,” you laugh together, watching not to spill your drinks.
You feel disappointed not having spotted him yet. The anticipation building. You forget how many hours pass but then everything changes. You're feeling hot and shout to your friend that you need air. Stumbling and pushing past the masses, you look up from your feet. You almost shit yourself at him standing there looking at you. There is a small pose of girls surrounding him, but he looks only at you and you can just imagine him smiling devilishly. Those girls don’t even know what their fucking with.
You reach outside, puffing out a breath of steamy air. The game is on, he spotted you. You need to run, to hide, don’t get caught. Looking left and right you sprint straight to the edge of campus and out into the woods, following the path. Thank God for the years of pageant training and running from the cops in unstable shoes.
Footsteps are following you, determined. Your arms are swinging and your legs are burning as you run as fast as you can. The cold nipped at your face, causing the whipping of the branches to sting ferociously. You turn left abruptly and hide behind a large oak tree. This time it’s your own hand gripping your mouth shut, so he can’t hear you. The footsteps slow down, he’s searching for you.
“Aww I was having so much fun,” he complains, “I won't hurt you I swear. Well not unless you beg for it,” he says out into the dark. He slowly passes you, and you see the back of him, thinking you're safe. You hold a nearby stick and lunge out of your hiding place, screaming. You're on top of him bringing down your stick. He catches your hand and you release it from the pain. He flips both of you over, his hand holding both of yours over your head. “You’re so pretty when you’re angry,” he says, trailing his knife down the side of your face, following your jawline, finishing with the point tilting your heads to look up at him. “You stole my coffee asshole!” you bite out. His chuckle is endearing. As he comes close to your face you wish you could see his eyes, or even his smile.
You struggle under him as the cold sets in. Your chest rises and falls in shallow breaths as his knife touches your thong. You clench in anticipation, you can hear his breaths rapidly and the feeling of his hands holding you tightly. His hand feels your wetness through the thin layer. He starts ever so delicately circling your clit, making your hips push up to meet his fingers. He lets go of your hands and pushes your hips back down to the floor. “You have to be good if you want it,” he says gruffly, shaking his head. The torture goes on to the point where your stubbornness breaks down, “ple- fuck- please mr.gohstface,” you writhe desperately.
“Say it louder,” he palms your clit harder, almost pushing to the edge.
“Please! I’m about to-” you shudder as you're blinded by your orgasm. His fingers continue working relentlessly, and you nearly cry as you come again. Taking out his fingers you sigh sadly not wanting it to be finished.
“Open your mouth,” he demands, and you can feel his hardness pressing into your dripping cunt. You do as you're told and he puts two fingers in, you look up at him and suck them lightly. “You make a man go insane, you know that?” He says hungrily as he looks at his fingers being drawn out of your mouth.
Longing for more, your hands grab his belt buckle and undo them. Your cold hands feel his cock, and he tenses his abs. He’s on knees and you sit up so that you’re face to face with him hard on. Working your hand up and down you give quick kisses through his boxers. Taking his dick out of the boxes lick the precum coming from the slit, dragging it gradually all the way across. He tosses his head back, trying to control himself as you go at your own pace. Your lips surround him and instantly his hand grips your head. You bob your head up and down, twirling your tongue tantalizing. You feel him grow harder and you pick to the pace. “Shit, just like that,” he groans out. Just as he is about to come, yanks your head back so that you look up at him, mouth open gasping for air.
“Turn around on your knees,” he releases you and you turn over, your ass up. Normally you’d be self-conscious, but strangely you feel safe with him. “A fucking masterpiece,” he admires cutting off your panties with his knife point, skillfully. Everso slowly you stretch painfully as he puts in his tip. You moan feeling yourself become whole, fulfilled. Once his hips touch your ass you feel tears forming. Dragging himself out slowly back in the friction kills you. You try to ask for him to go faster, rougher, just more. He takes your hair and whispers, “say it. Tell me what you want, I'm at your command.”
“More. Now.”
“Anything for you princess,” and immediately his fingers dig into you and he slams into you. You yelp at the sudden movement. He goes on unrelentingly, your knees scrapping on the forest floor. You can hear him grunting with the impact. Your crying at the forces as you orgasms comes over you. “Fuck y/n,” he moans as you milk him. He grabs your hair once more, you arch your back more and he hits you. Lifted up, your head rests on his shoulder and his knife comes to your neck. You smile at the feeling of the horror and thrill coursing through you like an aphrodisiac. “Look at me as I come in you,” he bites out, fucking you to oblivion. He tenses and you feel him coming to you. He releases you and you fall to your hands. He takes out his dick and watches amusedly as his cum comes out of you. You sigh as he takes his fingers and pushes it back into you.
“Go before I do something I shouldn’t.” he warns.
You run.
A month later:
You haven’t forgotten that night and every now and then you think you see those tattoos or hear his voice. You were sure you were crazy when during your first lecture on business psychology you saw him bent over talking to the seated professor. You know it’s him, just know it. He looks up as he goes on to walk away. Frozen like a statue, you gape as he walks to his seat in the far corner. Smiling knowingly, and winks placing a coffee cup on your seat desk.
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