MISFIT

You had two slick fingers rubbing against his walls, the digits gradually pumping in and out and effectively loosening his tight hole. “You’re going to bleed out if I do,” you warn, ignoring his sobbing protests as the pad of your index finger brush against a sensitive spot within him. Ghostface’s lean back arches off the bed, which has your free hand moving to weigh on his stomach to ensure he held still.

“Don’t be such a—mngh, oh God—stupid pussy. Fuck your cock into me, I know you want it,” Ghostface babbles mindlessly, his hips straining as they roll forward, trying to take your fingers in deeper.

To his disappointment and eventual anger, you pull them out and leave his wet hole pathetically gaping from the abrupt emptiness. Before his complaints burst from his chest, however, you align the head of your cock to his entrance and gently push it inside.

Ghostface’s thighs twitch, his legs automatically spreading wider as he squeezes around your tip. Though, to his surprise, that’s all he receives from you. His breathing grew ragged, puffs of air hitting his mask and causing the material to cling to his nose.

“What are you—?”

“Just the tip tonight,” You quickly hush, your palm soothing the tense muscles of his abdomen.

In complaint, he grumbled incoherently, beginning to slightly squirm in his place. This was basically the equivalent of you killing him. He wanted to feel your dumb, insufferable big dick inside of his tight, drooling hole; yet, you seemed to have no plans on giving what he wants. He whimpers shakily while he tilts his head to stare down at you, watching how you start to stroke yourself with only your leaky cockhead inside of him.

It’ll have to do. For now. Ghostface can only let out faint, pretty moans as he waits for you to cum inside of him.