𝙲𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚊

The Farmer's Daughter

Masky x fem reader x hoodie

Summary: You live a quiet, isolated life on your father's remote farm deep in the forest. One day two masked strangers appear on the property - and they can't seem to stay away from the farmer's pretty daughter.

Warning: MDNI | 18 +

Wc:2261

The old red barn stood against the treeline like a faded postcard, its paint chipped and weathered from years of rain and wind. Your father’s farm sat miles from the nearest town, surrounded by thick forest on three sides and a slow-moving creek on the fourth. It was just the two of you out here — him tending the fields and animals, you helping with chores, feeding the horses, and sitting on the wooden fence in your favorite pink gingham sundress and brown cowboy boots when the work was done.

You were used to the quiet. The birds, the wind in the tall grass, the distant sound of your father’s tractor. Strangers rarely came this far.

Until they did.

It started with little things. Tools missing from the shed. Fresh footprints in the soft dirt near the barn that didn’t belong to you or your dad. The feeling of being watched while you sat on the wooden fence, legs swinging, the hem of your short dress riding up slightly as you watched the brown horse drink from the pond.

Then one afternoon you saw them.

Two figures standing at the edge of the treeline, half-hidden by shadows. One wore a pale mask and a dark hoodie, the other a yellow hood pulled low with a ski mask covering his face. They didn’t move at first — just watched you perched on the wooden fence, the pink gingham fabric fluttering against your thighs in the breeze.

Your heart jumped.

You slid off the fence quickly, boots hitting the grass, and hurried back toward the house. But when you glanced over your shoulder, they were gone.

That night you couldn’t sleep.

The next morning your father left early for supplies in town — a rare trip that would keep him gone most of the day. You were alone.

You tried to focus on chores. Feeding the chickens. Checking the fence line. But the feeling of eyes on you never left.

Around midday you were leaning against the barn door, wiping sweat from your brow, when a low voice spoke from behind you.

“Nice place you got here, sweetheart.”

You spun around.

The one with the pale mask stood only a few feet away, hands in his pockets, head tilted slightly. Masky. The other — Hoodie — leaned against the side of the barn a little further back, arms crossed, silent but watching you with quiet intensity.

Your breath caught. Up close they looked even more dangerous — tall, broad-shouldered, clothes worn from travel and something darker.

“You’re trespassing,” you said, trying to sound braver than you felt. Your pink gingham dress suddenly felt too short, too bright against the earthy tones of the farm.

Masky chuckled softly, the sound rough. “We’ve been watching this place for a while. Quiet. Isolated. Perfect.” His masked gaze drifted slowly down your body, lingering on your legs and the cowboy boots. “Didn’t expect the view to be this good.”

Hoodie pushed off the barn and stepped closer, his voice quieter but no less intense. “You live here alone with your old man?”

“Most of the time,” you answered carefully.

Masky took another step forward, close enough that you could smell pine and cigarette smoke on him. “Must get lonely out here, farmer’s daughter. No one around for miles…”

Your back pressed against the warm wood of the barn. The two of them had you gently boxed in — not touching you, but close enough that the air felt thick.

Hoodie’s head tilted under the yellow hood. “We could keep you company.”

You should have told them to leave. Should have run back to the house and locked the door.

Instead you stood there, heart racing, the summer breeze lifting the hem of your dress as their masked eyes stayed fixed on you.

Masky reached out slowly and brushed a strand of hair from your face with a gloved hand. His voice dropped lower.

“We’ll be around, little farm girl. Don’t worry… we’ll make sure you’re not lonely anymore.”

They disappeared into the trees as quickly as they had appeared, leaving you flushed and breathless against the barn door, the distant sound of the horse drinking from the pond the only noise left.

But you knew they’d be back.

And deep down, a dangerous part of you was already waiting for them.

You spent the rest of the day in a haze, your mind replaying their voices, their masked stares, the way Masky’s gloved fingers had brushed your hair. By the time the sun began to set, a dangerous curiosity had taken root.

When you heard footsteps on the gravel again, you didn’t run.

Masky and Hoodie stepped into the fading light, their figures cutting sharp silhouettes.

“We told you we’d be back, little farm girl,” Masky said, voice low and rough.

Hoodie’s head tilted under the yellow hood. “Been thinking about you all day.”

Your heart hammered. “What… what do you want?”

Masky took a slow step closer, eyes behind the mask dragging down your body. “You know what we want.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine. You knew what they wanted — you, naked and writhing beneath them. The thought should have terrified you, but it only made your breath come faster, your body ache for their touch.

Hoodie’s voice was quiet, but firm. “We want to fuck you, little farm girl. Hard and rough, just like you need.”

Masky’s lips curved into a smile, his eyes dark with desire. “We’re going to make you scream, make you come harder than you ever have before.”

You bit your lip, your body already aching for them. “Yes,” you whispered.

Masky reached out, his gloved hand wrapping around your wrist, pulling you closer. “Good girl,” he growled. “Now let’s get you out of that dress.”

He pulled you towards the barn, Hoodie following close behind. Inside, the air was cool and dim, the scent of hay and horses filling your nostrils. Masky pushed you up against the rough wood of the barn wall, his body pressing against yours as he leaned down to capture your mouth with his.

His kiss was rough, demanding, his tongue invading your mouth, exploring, tasting. You moaned into his mouth, your body pressing against his as Hoodie stepped closer, his hands going to your waist, pulling you against him.

Hoodie’s mouth found your neck, his teeth nipping and biting as he kissed and sucked, his hands moving to your breasts, cupping them through your dress. You gasped, your head falling back as Masky’s mouth found your breast, his tongue swirling around your nipple, his hands squeezing and pinching as he watched Hoodie touch you.

Hoodie’s hands moved to the straps of your dress, pulling them down, exposing your breasts to the cool air of the barn. He leaned down, his mouth closing over one nipple, his tongue swirling around it. You cried out, your body shaking as Masky’s mouth found yours again, his hands squeezing your ass, pulling you harder against him.

Hoodie’s hands moved to your dress, pulling it up and over your head, leaving you naked except for your panties. He looked down at you, his eyes dark with desire. “Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he growled.

Masky’s hand went to your panties, pulling them down and off. He looked down at you, his eyes locked onto your pussy. “Spread your legs, little farm girl. Let us see that pretty pussy.”

You hesitated for a moment, then did as he said, spreading your legs wide, revealing yourself to them. Masky’s hand went to his cock, stroking it through his jeans as he looked down at you. Hoodie did the same, his eyes locked onto your pussy.

Masky knelt down between your legs, his hands going to your thighs, pushing them wider. He leaned down, his tongue finding your clit, licking and sucking, his fingers sliding inside you. You cried out, your body arching against his mouth, your hands going to his hair, holding him against you.

Hoodie watched, his hand stroking his cock as he looked down at you. “That’s it, little farm girl. Come on Masky’s face. Let us see how sweet you taste.”

Masky’s tongue moved faster, his fingers sliding in and out of you, his other hand going to your breast, squeezing and pinching your nipple. You could feel the heat building inside you, your body tensing as you got closer and closer to the edge.

“Oh god, I’m going to come,” you cried out, your body shaking as the waves of pleasure crashed over you.

Masky pulled away, his face glistening with your juices as he looked up at you. “That’s one,” he growled. “Now let’s see how many more we can get out of you.”

Hoodie stepped forward, his cock in his hand as he knelt down between your legs. “Are you ready for this, little farm girl?” he asked, his voice quiet but firm.

You looked down at him, your body still shaking from your orgasm. “Yes,” you whispered.

He guided his cock to your entrance, pushing inside you slowly. You gasped, your body stretching to accommodate him. He started to move, his hips thrusting in and out of you, his hands going to your hips, holding you in place.

Masky leaned down, his mouth finding your breast, his tongue swirling around your nipple as he watched Hoodie fuck you. You could feel another orgasm building inside you, your body tensing as you got closer and closer to the edge.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Hoodie growled, his hips moving faster, his cock sliding in and out of you.

Masky’s hand went to your clit, his fingers rubbing and pinching as he watched you. “Come for us, little farm girl. Come on Hoodie’s cock.”

You cried out, your body shaking as the waves of pleasure crashed over you again. Hoodie groaned, his cock pulsing inside you as he came, his body shaking as he filled you with his seed.

He pulled out slowly, his cock glistening with your juices as he looked down at you. “That was fucking amazing,” he murmured.

Masky stood up, his cock still hard as he looked down at you. “Our turn,” he growled.

He pulled you up, turning you around and bending you over the pile of hay. He pushed inside you, his cock sliding in easily, your body still wet and ready. He started to move, his hips slamming against you, his cock sliding in and out of you.

Hoodie stood in front of you, his cock already hard again as he watched Masky fuck you. “Suck me off, little farm girl,” he growled.

You opened your mouth, taking him inside, your tongue swirling around his cock as you sucked him. He groaned, his hand going to your head, holding you in place as he fucked your mouth.

Masky’s hands went to your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he pounded into you. “You feel so fucking good, little farm girl,” he growled. “I’m going to come inside you. Fill you up with my seed.”

You moaned around Hoodie’s cock, your body tensing as you felt another orgasm building inside you. Masky’s cock slid in and out of you, his hips slamming against you, his breath coming in short gasps.

Hoodie’s cock slid in and out of your mouth, his hips moving in rhythm with Masky’s. “That’s it, little farm girl. Suck me off. Make me come.”

You could feel the heat building inside you, your body tensing as you got closer and closer to the edge. Masky’s cock slid in and out of you, his fingers digging into your hips as he pounded into you.

“I’m going to come,” Masky growled, his cock pulsing inside you as he filled you with his seed.

You felt him pulsing inside you, your body shaking as you came again, your mouth full of Hoodie’s cock as he came, his body shaking as he filled your mouth with his seed.

The three of you collapsed onto the hay, your bodies spent and satisfied. Masky pulled you against him, his arm wrapping around you as Hoodie spooned you from behind, his hand resting on your stomach.

“That was fucking amazing,” Masky murmured, his voice soft.

You looked up at him, your body still shaking slightly. “Yes, it was,” you whispered.

Hoodie’s hand moved up to your breast, his fingers playing with your nipple. “We’ll be back, little farm girl,” he murmured. “Again and again.”

You smiled, your body already aching for them again. “I’ll be waiting,” you whispered.

The first flicker

masky x fem reader

Summary: You linger as a ghost in the ruined cathedral, quietly haunting the masked proxy who senses your cold presence every night.

Warning: This story contains atmospheric horror and slow-burn tension.

the ruined cathedral stood silent under the weight of forgotten time.

its stone walls carried the color of aged parchment and damp earth — pale beige and soft gray streaked with deeper brown where moss and time had settled. a simple wooden cross, dark and weathered, hung on one pillar like a quiet sentinel. thin beams of muted light filtered through narrow windows, casting long, dusty rays in shades of warm taupe and soft cream across the floor.

you moved through it all like mist — formless, weightless, a quiet presence that belonged to the ruins now. your essence lingered near the altar, near the cracked pews, near the veiled statue draped in faded robes the color of old parchment and ash. her face remained serene behind layers of dust and time, rosary beads dark against her form, standing eternal in the muted light.

you hadn’t meant to stay.

but the cathedral held you gently, its hollow beauty in soft grays and earthy browns matching the stillness inside you. the draped white figures in the pews — like silent congregations wrapped in pale sheets — made the space feel less empty, their fabric catching the dim light in gentle folds.

he came at night, when the light grew dim and the beams turned silver-gray.

mask pulled low, hood shadowing his face in deep brown tones, movements deliberate and heavy with exhaustion. masky. the proxy whose boots left faint prints on the stone floor the color of dried leaves. his knife caught the faint light in brief, cold flashes against the muted palette of the ruins.

the first time your presence brushed against him, it was nothing more than a shift in the cold air near the stone wall with the cross — a chill that made the hairs on his neck rise against the warm beige shadows.

he froze.

“who’s there.”

his voice was low, guarded, carrying the rough edge of someone used to threats in the dark. his gloved hand hovered near his weapon as he scanned the empty pews, the draped white figures sitting motionless like watchful sentinels in their pale sheets, the veiled statue bathed in the soft, dusty light from above.

nothing visible answered.

you stayed close anyway, drifting silently behind him as he continued his task — whatever errand the operator had sent him on this time. you watched the tension in his shoulders, the way he glanced over his shoulder more than once, as if he could feel eyes on him that weren’t there, the dark brown of his hood blending into the cathedral’s deep shadows.

after that night, you became more deliberate.

a cold breath against the back of his neck near the altar, where the stone held the color of aged bone.

the faint rustle of fabric — like the white sheets on the pews shifting though no wind blew, their pale folds catching the taupe light.

his name carried on the static that sometimes hummed through the old building, so soft it could have been the wind through cracked glass.

“fuck off,” he muttered on the third night, pressing his fist against the stone wall beside the cross, the impact sending a faint echo through the gray-brown halls. “i don’t need this shit right now.”

you didn’t leave.

instead you lingered near the veiled statue, letting the light catch the dust around you in a way that made shadows stretch longer across the floor in soft gradients of beige to deep umber. he noticed. his head tilted slightly, mask hiding his expression but not the way his breathing changed — sharper, more aware.

he started speaking into the quiet more often.

curses at first. then fragments of complaints about the headaches, the commands that never stopped, the nights that bled together. one evening, as rain began to patter through holes in the roof and water dripped onto the draped white figures in the pews, he leaned against a pillar near the statue and said,

“if you’re really there… show me something useful instead of just creeping around.”

you responded by letting the thin beam of moonlight brighten for a moment, illuminating the rosary beads on the veiled figure and casting soft glows in warm cream and gray across the stone floor. he watched it, unmoving, for a long time.

he didn’t thank you.

but the next night he returned anyway, his figure cutting a dark silhouette against the muted earth tones of the cathedral.

the tension built slowly, like ivy claiming the walls in deep olive-brown shades.

every time you drifted closer — a chill along his arm, a whisper of cold air near the hooded mask — he would tense, jaw tight, voice dropping into a dangerous murmur against the quiet stone.

“stop it. i can feel you. whatever you are… you’re getting on my nerves.”

you answered by circling him once, letting the air grow noticeably colder around his frame until he shivered despite the layers he wore, the contrast sharp against the warm beige light. there was satisfaction in it — in knowing you could still affect the living, even as nothing more than a ghost in these sacred ruins of stone and shadow.

yet you weren’t cruel.

not really.

something about his quiet exhaustion, the way he moved through the cathedral like it was both refuge and prison in its palette of grays and browns, mirrored the stillness you carried. the draped white figures in the pews seemed to watch the two of you with silent approval, their pale forms blending into the soft light.

night after night he came back.

night after night you waited among the stone and the veiled statues and the empty pews.

the cathedral held its breath around you both — cross on the wall in dark wood, light slanting through windows in muted beams, white sheets like ghosts in the seats, the serene veiled figure with her rosary standing eternal guard in faded tones.

a ghost who refused to fade.

a masked proxy who couldn’t quite shake the chill that followed him through the earth-toned ruins.

the air between you grew thicker with every visit.

something unspoken, slow and inevitable, beginning to stir in the quiet cathedral.