You groaned, slapping your hand across your couch’s perch in anger. If you were attacked like that, you’d definitely kick him in the balls and shove the knife through his ass. It was that simple!

Night had fallen long ago, and the stars were invisible in the gloom. You were home alone for the time being, especially with your grandma out for her bingo camp. (Even you didn’t know that was a thing.)

So, that meant more free time for you.

It meant more face masks without being called Micheal Myers in them— and certainly more walking around without a bra because it was so relaxing. And here you were, draped on your black loveseat with a fluffy night gown cloaking your figure.

Popcorn and skin serums were littered about, and the TV remote was somewhere lost in the coffee table’s mess. As the movie continued to play, you resorted to painting your nails, keeping them a nice onyx color.

“Please don’t! Please! Please! Aaah—“

Another scream with another kill.

You mocked her scream, laughing to yourself. These movies were so unrealistic and awfully—

Thump.

You snap back immediately, eyes wide as you pause.

“Pip!”

Oh my gosh, that stupid Caleb.

You cap the nail polish, muttering incoherent curses. Caleb was your best friend since so many years, but he rarely comes over. Not that you want him to come over, that is, but he’d usually message you before he does.

You grabbed your crow blanket from the side, wrapping it around you like a make-believe dress. Your door kept thumping with impatient knocks, and you swung it open annoyingly.

“What in the world do you want at this hour?”

There, the brunette was holding a gym bag over his shoulder, his knuckles frozen mid-air in another knock. His smile is enlightening, and you immediately forget why you’re upset.

“Oh! I just wanted to make a pit stop at your place before I head to a party— do you mind?” he digs in his pocket, “Aaand here’s my payment for my stay.”

He opens his palms to reveal a ziploc bag of sliced apples, making you raise a brow in utter disbelief.

“Really…?”

You swipe your nose, accidentally wiping some of the face mask off. Cursing you stood aside, motioning him forward,

“Just get in, and keep those damn apples— I’m in the middle of something important.”

“Gee…” his voice trails, and he notices the television replaying an old favorite, “Watching scary movies at night again? Remember how you got—“

Your glare hushed him instantly, and you slammed the door, pushing past the big brute. Sure, he might be tall and almighty, but you had that swiveling control in you to keep him from getting too big of himself.

“I’m not 13 anymore, let me watch my stuff in peace,” you watch him drop his bag on your seat, “That’s my seat you idiot!”

He doesn’t listen, and takes the spot beside it, stretching out his legs. You noticed his black apparel then; a simple pair of dark jeans and his striped crewneck. The necklace you gave him glinted with the TV’s flashing light, making it sparkle a little more.

He was so fucking hot, but you weren’t that bold to say it. Caleb was almost done with aerospace academy, and graduating top in his class. You were confident that some much prettier girls his type were pining after him, so you didn’t bother.

“You sure do know how to make yourself comfortable,” you mumble, leaning behind him on the couch, “What’s the party you’re going to?”

His eyes are locked on the screen, watching the next victim get brutally stabbed. It should be concerning, but you weren’t the least icked by it— and Caleb wasn’t either.

“Some new freshman party, with drinks and stuff,” he sounded disinterested, “I’m going with a friend so it won’t be too bad.”

“Since when do you hang out with freshman?” you laugh, giving his head a light wack, “And since when did you have friends?”

“Hey!” he turns, frowning, “A guy like me can make friends, thank you very much.”

You shrug, and stand behind him for a while more. His shoulders rose slightly with each breath he took, and you’d glance at him and then the screen every so often. Then, you got a whiff of metal.

Quietly, you lean forward, sniffing his hair lightly. It smelled like dirty mahogany, and then…dirt. You grimaced, poking his cheek,

“You smell like shit y’know.”

You only got a hum in reply. But then again, your friend is stupidly stubborn. You make your way forward, collecting all your serums from the coffee table to take upstairs.

Once you show a horror movie to him, he’s never going to look back. You remembered one time when the both of you were playing outside, he wouldn’t move from behind the tree, and simply watched a snake eat a cute little mouse. Creepy, but you weren’t that different either.

You made your way upstairs, the steps below you creaking with your weight. You shoot one final glance at Caleb, but he’s as still as you found him.

Your room was the biggest in the house, and that was because Grandma insisted you have it. Your closet was somewhat spacious, and your bathroom was about 1/4 the size of your room. You entered it, turning on the buzzing light as you dumped the glass vials on the sink’s top.

You carefully placed each serum back to its spot behind the mirror and then some into your mini fridge. You turned on the water, letting it run warm. Lastly, of your most tiring routine to prevent a mess, you slipped on your fluffy bracelets and handband. You looked silly in the mirror, but beauty costs apparently. You then washed the mask off your face.

A few minutes later, and then some moisturizer, you were done. You still had some annoying bumps on your cheek, and no matter what new cream you used, they never came off. You sighed, getting ready to go downstairs.

“I told you to wait for me, didn’t I?”

You stopped, and then squatted.

“No…you’re fucking insane…I said, no.”

Who in the world was he talking to? You wrapped your blanket a little tighter, and then crawled forward a bit. The stairs railings covered your form, and you’re thankful because Caleb was digging through his bag.

It was actually the first time you’ve seen him angry too. His voice was commanding, and he practically yelled at the small device.

“If you dare, then I will not hesitate to…Sylus!”

You heard a loud beep.

The call must have ended because he threw his phone across the living room. Poor thing must’ve seen better days.

He took a deep breath, and his eyes were closed shut. Right now is definitely not the time to go down…so you took that moment to crawl back up quietly.

Then, footsteps started getting near.

He’s coming upstairs.

You sweared under your breath, racing to your room and pretending to look for something in your closet.

“Pipsqueak? Hello?”

He sees you buried half-waist in your closet. You tossed one old shirt after another, humming a tune to keep yourself at bay. Unfortunately at this moment too, you really needed to clean your closet.

“Oh Caleb!” you pop your head out a bit, “Hey! What’re you doing in my room?”

You playfully throw one of your pants, but it was a poor throw and it barely made it two feet before you. The man was leaned on your doorway, his legs cross as he snickered at you.

“Nothin’ I was just checking up on you since you were up here for a while…”

His gaze follows to the open door of your bathroom, and he grins,

“Say, you don’t mind if I hop in your shower really quick?” he raised his hands before you spoke, “I won’t use your shampoo!”

You grimaced, and looked down at your closet. There were so many pants you’ve never bothered wearing, and they were still new with the price tags. With a sigh you replied,

“Fine, but I better not see your pubes in my drain.”

“Alrighty— wait.”

You shared a laugh with him, but it didn’t take long for it to die down. He left you alone to retrieve some of his clothing downstairs, and you let a long held-in breath out. You plopped back forward onto your heap of clothes, hugging them tight.

Something is definitely up with Caleb, and it simply doesn’t feel right. And who was Sylus? As far as your memory could reach, you’ve never heard that name before. Was he a friend of Caleb as well? Or a coworker?

Or were you just jealous?

But then again, he didn’t seem like a friend. Because…friends wouldn’t yell at each other— would they?

You heard his footsteps climb up again and into your room. He chuckled at your crouched form, and commented slyly,

“I can see your underwear, pipsqueak.”

Immediately, you reach down to cover your ass, your face a furious red. He was lucky to escape your fury and head straight inside the other room.

“Stop staring then!” you growl and bang on the bathroom door, “You pervert!”

From your messy pile, you pick out some pink shorts and slip them on. It was best not to be a temptation anyway, and then made your way downstairs.

You went to play another movie, and was about to reach the remote, but then spotted Caleb’s phone under the couch. You look around for any prying eyes, and then crouch down to grab it.

His phone case was a slick red, and his homescreen was a picture of the both of you during your younger days. Now that left his password to be discovered. Out of curiosity, you put your birthdate— and then nearly grimaced when it unlocked the phone.

“Sylus…?”

You swiped down to see several missed calls, and then some texts. You were tempted to click on the chat, but then last minute, decided otherwise. This was an invasion of privacy—

Ding!

You look down at the screen.

I arrived.

Arrived? Arrived where? Skeptically, you tossed the phone back under the couch, and then focused your gaze on Caleb’s bag. His towel was peeking out, making you sigh. You might as well give it over because there was no way you were letting him borrow yours.

The moment you pulled his towel out, several other articles fell.

“Damn it…”

You kneeled to pick up a black fabric, but you felt plastic attached to it. You turned the item, and saw a ghost-like pattern on its balaclava. Its eyes and mouth looked like they were sunken down, and then painted red.

You grazed the red splotches slightly, still wet and smeared on the white mask. Was that…blood? You reached for the other articles, and saw stains that only furthered your guess.

Whose blood was this?

Swallowing thickly, you placed them all back inside, but your hands still remained soaked in blood. Shit, shit, shit. You sprinted quietly into the kitchen, and ran the water to rinse out the stains.

You felt your heart pound in disbelief. It was like an earthquake happening in your body because you couldn’t even breathe right. Caleb…Caleb is a very nice guy. He wouldn’t hurt a fly, and you knew that.

You literally grew up with him.

You should know that better than anyone.

You raise your gaze up at the window, and saw a pair of sunken black eyes stare back at you.

One blink.

Two blinks.

And then you walk backwards.

Your scream was caught in your throat as you kept your eyes locked on the other. The mask was like the one you saw seconds ago, and it nearly makes you laugh. This must be a sick prank— Halloween is near after all.

The figure raps the window with their knuckles, and you see that his fist holds a long silver knife. His other hand pointed toward the door outside, and you follow the finger, noticing that your door was unlocked.

“No…”

You whisper, and then take off in a sprint. Nearly falling, you scramble to lock the spring door, but it was no use. The figure was already there, one large hand holding it still and the knife cutting the wires agonizingly slow. They were tall, way too tall.

I didn’t watch all those movies for nothing.

You scramble back up and snatch a knife from the countertop, and then run upstairs. Golden light spills from your room, meaning that Caleb must’ve finished showering. You were going to take a step inside, but then stopped yourself.

Caleb is involved in this somehow, you can’t trust him.

So, you make the next best exit.

Your grandma’s room.

You try your best to stay silent, but it’s inevitable in an old house like yours. You quietly close the door behind you, locking it the best you could. Then, you stuck one of her rocking chairs under the knob, being the second step of security you had.

You set your eyes at the window, and you make a sigh of relief. Setting down the knife, you start dismantling the wooden frame. It took several hits before it broke down, and it left the spring frame as the last barrier between you and the outside.

Though, voices from the hallway distracted you. You gaze at the door and then the window— your escape should be easy, so you can just listen in a bit. You crouched down the door, pressing your ear against the thin wood as you eavesdropped into the conversation.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

That was Caleb.

“Oh, I don’t know, perhaps saving you from rats.”

That must be the figure…

“Rats? Okay Sylus, you have gone way too far this week and it’s pissing me the fuck off,” a loud thump was heard, “Leave.”

Several more thumps were heard, and then a crash.

“I was the one to help you with your murder, and you treat me like this? That’s a kind gesture coming from you.”

Sylus was the figure then, but the whole context of the conversation was difficult to understand. Murder? Who murdered who?

“I could care less— we made it clear that we won’t meddle in personal affairs, and yet you come into my life?”

A brief pause.

“Where’s my y/n?”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you began to recede from the door. The conversation was still audible, especially with the way Caleb raised his voice.

“What the fuck did you do to her?”

“I don’t know.” a chuckle, “But do tell, she found your stash— and I think she knows now.”

You bit your lip, hard. The spring barrier would not budge open, making you panic internally. It wouldn’t take long for them to start searching for you, so you needed to leave. Now.

“Sweet thing ran upstairs before I could grab her.”

Another thump, and this time it was a clearly loud punch.

“If you touch even a hair on her head, I will personally kill you.”

You reached for the knife on the bed and started cutting out a large circle on the frame. The chirps of crickets witnessed your escape, and wondered if you’d survive the fall.

“Let’s make a wager. First one to find her gets to do whatever they desire, how’s that?”

You really didn’t like this Sylus guy— and hoped that Caleb wasn’t stupid enough to—

“Fine, but if I find her you leave.”

A deep chuckle makes your bones rattle, and you can feel the goosebumps rise on your dewy flesh as Sylus speaks again.

“I personally think, she’s in there.”

Oh my god.

“No…she must be hiding in another room. Pipsqueak!”

You pushed the cut hole out, and began to squeeze yourself outside. The cold breeze hit your bare skin, and it was enough to make your teeth start shattering. You were careful on the tiles, avoiding the possibility of slipping and falling to an embarrassing death.

The feeling of adrenaline ran through your veins, and heightened at the tip of your brain— this, this all felt surreal. Your back was pressed against the brick wall of your home, but you kept a grip on the window sill as you scoured your head for ideas. There must be a way to jump or climb down safely…

“Pip!”

Your gaze shoots down, and you see Caleb several feet below you. His hands cupped his mouth as he shouted again,

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you! Stay there! I’ll—“

“No!” you grit your teeth, “You’re a maniac! I’m not going to bother!”

How he managed to get downstairs so quickly was beyond you, so the escape below was quickly ruined. You couldn’t stay up there all night, the both of you knew that. But the fear of not knowing what he does, when you thought you did…was stronger than anything.

And Caleb?

To say he’s worried is an understatement, because he’s worried and angry. How dare you not trust him? He was bound to tell you one day, just simply not today.

Yet, the fear and uncertainty in your eyes told him that it would take years before you could trust him again. You weren’t safe up there, but neither in the house. His partner was pathetic, but way too awfully sadistic.

And to him, it was better that he got you than the other.

“Pip, please,” his eyes scanned the wall for places of leverage, “I will tell you everything— everything you need to know.”

He dodged a tile from you, and your face was as stern and dark as ever. The next words that slipped from your precious lips just set his limit. He’s had up to here to handle you, and if you didn’t want his help. He didn’t care.

“Fuck off! I don’t love you anymore!”

The words felt foreign leaving you, yet at the same time, exhilarating. Your chest heaved with the urge to sob, but you held it back. You weren’t going to cry in front of a man who killed god knows how many people— and you certainly weren’t going to trust anything coming from his mouth.

His chestnut hair blew softly in the cold breeze as he stood silent below. The dark grass almost embraced him and his glare, sharp and steady to the touch. His once familiar feeling with memories and times shared was dissipated. You watched trembling in the wind, and he tilted his head, letting out a pft.

“Oh come on, you’re lying. Just,” his brows furrowed as he forced a hard smile, “Just, stay there. I’ll come up and get you.”

“No!”

You started moving to the right of the sill, nearly slipping on a tile.

“y/n.”

You turn, ready for another retort until it dies down. The man below didn’t look so happy.

“When I catch you, I’ll make sure you love me again,” he makes a brief pause, his voice like dangerously smooth velvet, “I promise you that.”

“Hm, too late.”

The gruff voice was erupted from below your waist, and you see tufts of white hair tickle your bare legs. In an instant, gloved hands grab your hips, pushing them down hard enough to make you lose your balance. The bricks scraped your hands, causing you to release a sharp painful hiss.

And you knew it was Sylus— because no one else looked at you with such sad pity and handled you with such harsh contempt. His fingertips digged on the plush of your hips as you tried scooping up tiles, desperate to escape.

“Get the fuck away from—

A blade is pressed firmly on your open lips, and it’s all you need to shut up and survive. The cold metal’s tip poked at your nose, ready to pierce the skin and scar you for life. Your throat bobbed slightly as you slowly lifted your gaze at the man, partly from disbelief and the fear of looking any other way.

“Now, that isn’t a very nice mouth you have kitten,” he lifts a brow as he sneers slightly, “I believe we’ll fix that soon enough.”

Your hands throbbed with the scratches of the wall, and it was uncomfortably mixed with the tight pain on your hips. Sylus looked awful. His hair was made of thick white locks parting from the side— which complimented his horrid red orbs.

His tall form wasn’t made believe either. Broad shoulders lifted up with his arms, swinging you over him and humming deeply with the squeak that erupts from your lips. There was something about him now that you were close up, and that “something” convinced you that if you were to even peep another word— you’d be gone from this planet in an instant.

Sylus turned slightly, spotting his partner in the farther distance. He knew that the brunette was upset, but it’s only rational if he lost the game. The corner of his lips turned slightly as he waved at the other,

“Couldn’t win at my own game? That’s just…” he pauses and taps his chin, “Oh yes, sad. In your own home, no less.”

The man below glared daggers above.

You found yourself in a predicament.

Not only with the hateful turmoil and sickening fear, but physically. It took literally your life to be as still as possible from where you were. No begging could get you out of this. And it didn’t matter who you begged to either.

Caleb sat on the other side of the living room, cleaning the stained mask you discovered earlier. His frown was the same as minutes earlier, unrelenting and as dark as ever. He’d spare glances at you every so often, maybe of worry— maybe of promise. For sure, he didn’t like the outcome of this game.

Another horror show played in the background— the infamous Frankenstein in its glorious black and white. It was your favorite, however, it just filled you with dread.

The creep who caught you had you on his lap, his legs spread so that you could sit “comfortably” on his big thigh. What stopped you from moving slightly was the threat of the knife resting in front of your stomach, eager to gut you the moment you made an innocent mistake.

His fingers rapped on the loveseat’s edge, his gaze glued to the television. He didn’t say anything to you after, and you didn’t either. You’ve seen enough tense scenes to know how things usually play out— and you hoped that some protective neighbor was righteous enough to check up on you. But that’s a really far stretch…

“The party starts soon, we should get on the road.”

Your gaze shifts to Caleb, who tosses the mask on the coffee table. He leans forward from his seat, his elbows resting on his knees as he stares at Sylus.

“Leave her and let’s go.”

The thigh below you bounces slightly, making you shift from your center. You hear the man hum again, as if in thought. Yes, leave! Leave!

“I’ve changed my mind.”

You feel his breath tickle your ear, causing the little hairs behind your neck to rise. He’s an expert with how he talks, because it has you fighting internally to fight or flight.

“Excuse me?” Caleb scoffs, his expression in discontent, “We’ve planned this for over a month and you’re going to call it off? Since when do you call the shots?”

“I don’t recall you calling the shots either,” his voice is laced with subtle lust, “Moreover, I’d be rude if I didn’t use my dispensable prize.”

Use?

“She’s not an item,” your ex-friend growled, “And she’s more mine than yours.”

“Ah?” you feel Sylus’s hand trace your legs, his fingertips ghosting your outer thigh, “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I do remember her saying— what was it sweetie?”

You didn’t know he was referring to you until you felt the blade get closer to your abdomen, and it makes you reply mumblishly,

“I-I don’t remember.”

“You don’t remember?”

He sounds like he has pity, but you knew that was far from the truth. You looked up at Caleb, defiant and reflecting upon him a teary face. God, you loved him but this was not the moment. It sounded like he really wanted to leave you alone, but the fucking killer wasn’t giving him the light of day to do so.

You wanted to run far, far, far away from here and into the embrace of your Grandma. To feel her warm hugs and hear her sweet soothing voice would be utterly divine right now.

“How about we remind him?”

He whispered it so only you would hear it, but Caleb immediately understood your wide-eyed expression. The white-haired had traveled the knife up towards your sternum, reflecting your quivering eyes below.

“Do you know how it feels to be eaten?” he whispers, lips grazing the shell of your hot ear, “Like a sweet cream dessert?”

“No.”

Your voice is meek and it feels like the world has drowned out with how the knife’s blade glinted in a wicked grin.

“Tsk tsk, your best friend never ate you out?” his palm recedes back to your pelvis, palming it, “Poor thing…I can change that. You only have to say please.”

You didn’t have an option anyway. You felt your sweat trickle down your neck, making you feel sick as you whisper;

“Please.”

It only brings you a moment of relief when the blade is retracted and tossed to the side— but the moment you look up at Caleb, you already realize what you have done.

“She’s mine, and you need to fucking respect that.”

He nearly pounces from where he sat, but the dignity he has allows him to resist a while more.

“She said, please.” Sylus roughly pushes you forward, making you flail as you bend to palm the floor, “And I’m respecting that.”

Your hips are moved up, your knees lifted slightly from its kneel. Blood rushes to your head and breathing alone in this position is difficult to say the least.

The slasher squeezes your ass, massaging its mounds as he teases Caleb once more,

“She’s quite the fortune you’ve been hiding partner, it’s very sad that I’ll have the first taste of it.”

“You’re on thin ice, Sylus,” he spat, “I’m going to—“

“Oh but I’m not going to be rash— you can have her after I’m done. Like a dog fed scraps.”

You didn’t have to see to know Caleb wasn’t very pleased with the analogy. He angrily huffed and leaned back on the couch, his leg bouncing impatiently as he stared back at the television.

“Now, where were we?”

The man behind squeezed your ass once more before reaching the hem of your pink shorts, making you twitch slightly from your position. The gloves made his touch cold on your skin as you felt the cloth be pushed down to your knees, pooled along with your panties.

He didn’t say another word and lazily stroked your folds, taking whatever horrid turn-on you had leaked off you as temporary lube. Hell, it was like he was preparing food— difference is, you’re alive on the dish.

His thumb prodded at your hole, making small circular movements to see what reaction he could evoke from you. When you didn’t say much, he traveled his hand down to your clit. Slight pressure was pressed on the tiny bud, and you bit your lip to suppress any noises that’d accidentally escape.

He hummed, “Well, well. I suppose it takes more than light teasing to please a woman like you, hm?”

Yeah. You dead would please me.

As if hearing your thoughts, he dragged your hips forward harshly— evoking a squeak as you found leverage on the man’s thighs. Your front thighs rested on his shoulders, his hot breath fanning your slick pussy. The thought of being ate in front of Caleb was embarrassing, and you hoped that his love for horror would distract him from seeing you unraveled like this.

Before you could feel the rapture, the familiar cold metal was pressed on your skin yet again. It traced your thighs, making your skin raise slightly at the rifts and turns it delicately made.

“Now this is something worth filming,” he chuckled, “Hey partner, get the camera.”

To your surprise, Caleb didn’t retort. He simply stood up, then left for a brief moment, and returned with an old camera. It was one of those old style ones that were considered the 2000’s aesthetic— but considering the situation, it didn’t look quite attractive.

You slowly lifted your head to see him stand before you, your head at the perfect position before his pelvis. He catches your gaze and gives you a sad smile,

“Don’t want to see me, huh pip?”

He reaches for his cleaned mask and plops it on his persona. His eyes became invisible to you, and only that looming ghost face taunted you as it turned slightly down. The rest of the balaclava covered his head and neck, making his reactions discreet to you.

The click of the camera was heard, and then some buttons pushed, and then a gruff reply,

“Make it quick, I don’t want to see her like this.”

The white-haired grins, his finger motioning Caleb forward,

“I’ll let you take her front, but don’t be so pissed. We can attend that long-awaited party sometime later.”

You feel your heart race, and to your content, not a word is heard from your friend. The camera must’ve been recording, because a foreign wet muscle immediately plunged on your cunt. Your hands instinctively fly to your mouth, covering it with all the strength you had left. Your nails dug into your cheek, but it was no less stressful than the knife still tracing your thighs.

Sylus’s tongue darted across your pussy, teasing your clit softly in contrast to his heated breaths. You tasted divine and musk, the sweat from running away still lingered— and it excited him more. He’d be lying if he said he could’ve had all the pussy he wanted at the party, but discovering your existence and worth to Caleb…well that was just much better.

He does love a friendly rivalry after all.

Your legs shivered below him, getting untensed as you were deceptive to yourself. His gaze even met his partners, whose cock was rock hard and bulging through his jeans. Sylus gave one last lick on your clit, then gave one large lap on your hole— savoring the iridescent slick that dripped slowly from you. He pressed his knife on your cunt, flat and careful as he watched you twitch at the contrasting temperature.

You were way too cute writhing under. He was slow and taunting with you, giving languid licks as your fold parted each time. His saliva was warm and your mind grew fuzzy as you tried to focus on the rationale you tried to keep.

In front of you, Caleb was already riled up. His breathing could be heard from under his mask as he enviously watched the fucker in front of him devour your cunt. It should’ve been him doing that to you.

To lap up your cunt like a hungry dog and eat you the way you actually deserve— not slow and strict like this. He would’ve had you sat on his face, rocking your hips on his nose as you sang sweet melodies to his ears. He would’ve had you begging to go faster, deeper, and harder— but, it remained as fantasies.

Instead, your face was a blushing mess, and you were struggling to moan. He didn’t want you making a single noise for a man undeserving like Sylus, and it was coincidental that his cock was aching to be part of the action.

You felt your hair be tugged slightly, making you lift your head groggily. Your eyes were watery as you stared at Caleb motion you to his crotch,

“I’ll help you, pip, but help me first.”

You instantly refused, trying to dip your head back into Sylus’ lap— however, it didn’t go as you intended. Caleb kept your hair in a fist, keeping you slightly in place, and then he signaled his partner;

“Hold the camera.”

Sylus lifted his red eyes slightly, then hummed. Your pussy thrummed as he kept making slow licks, teasing your aching hole with the tip of his tongue. He was too content to bother, but considering the sake of ruining you— it should be well worth it. You watched as the camera was exchanged, and your friend unbuckle his jeans.

The mask covered any visible pleasure he had, but you didn’t need it to know. Caleb’s cock stood face to face with you, his tip leaking tiny beads of precum. His hair was kempt below, a happy trail making it if not more attractive to see. That is, if you weren’t scared of fitting that entire bulging thing in your mouth.

“Open up kitten,” Sylus pressed the knife tauntingly over your soaked folds, “Can’t keep the pup waiting.”

He watched as the other forced your wet lips open, your held-in saliva stretch as you took his length inch by inch. Your cheeks began to puff and you nearly gagged trying to breathe.

Caleb rocked his hips slowly, still fisting your hair as he grunted through the mask. Your tongue traced the bottom of his cock, your drool escaping your lips, trickling all the way down your chin. The other moved the camera to your pussy, zooming in with the blade’s light movement on parting your folds.

Sylus then stabbed the knife on the edge of the couch, making you flinch slightly. Noticing your fear, he grins,

“Oh don’t worry sweetie, I wouldn’t impale you— with a knife that is.”

Caleb sped up his thrusts, practically fucking himself in your mouth with sloppy noises resounding along with the television. You felt his cock kiss your throat happily, sliding along your wet cavern with ease. You heard his gruff moans through the mesh of the mask, holding himself back from spilling his seed inside you.

Your jaw ached with pain, your nose meeting his lavender-scented happy trail— but you were too far dumb to recognize his pretty lying. Behind you, Sylus chose to slip a finger in your pussy, the camera witnessing his leather gloves get soaked with your slick.

One push, then another, your sweet pussy made tiny pop nosies every time he took out his finger— and then once more as he slipped it in. He curled his index finger downwards, pressing against your squishy insides.

Your throat gurgled with a suppressed moan, making you vibrate around Caleb’s dick pleasurably. Then, the perpetrator decided to slip two fingers, stretching you wide as he finger-fucked you slowly.

It felt like a big build-up, and your friend was growing sloppy with his thrusts, curses spilling from under his mask. You just looked adorable with tears slipping down your beautiful orbs, and you needed something to adorn it.

In one more thrust, he pulled out, then slapped his cock somewhat gently on your lips. Your cheek fell victim to his release as he spurted himself on you, a long languid groan escaping his heaving chest. Your hand trembled as you reached to touch your cheek, and you could barely analyze the sticky mess before Sylus slipped another finger in you.

A sweet cry erupts from you, making you fall face-forward again on Sylus’s lap. The camera watched as he sped up his pace, his three fingers in a curl as he squished your spongey pussy for that incoming squirt. He wasn’t new to a woman’s body, so he already knew you were ready once your hips started fucking themselves on his palm.

“That’s it, chase it.” his voice is tinged with amusement, and he zooms in to your blushing folds, “Show the camera how you squirt for us.”

On command, your cunt squirts onto his black wear, creating a darker wet patch. You’re practically mewling with your raising hips, overstimulated with his unrelenting fingering, keeping you on another edge as he stroked another release.

Caleb’s cum is smeared on the others lap as you stuff your face between the strong thighs, making your final moan muffled and loud as you tremble. The white-haired finally pulls out, his gloves wet with your sticky fluid and beaded release, making him grunt in disapproval.

“If you don’t appreciate the artwork then don’t keep it,” Caleb frowned as Sylus ripped off his glove, ready to toss it aside.

“Oh? Don’t tell me you’ll keep it?”

“Even better,” he snatches the wet glove, tossing it perfectly inside his gym bag, “It’ll be my snack.”

“Didn’t know you were…special like that.”

Caleb picks you up from your armpits, folding your arms around him as you still spasm with aftershocks. His hand rubs circles on your back soothingly as he glares from under his mask,

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me, and it’s best to keep it that way.”

Sylus grimaces, his red eyes narrowed as he thought of a reasonable argument. It was one thing to be surprised, yet another to be threatened. Both men had their fair share of encounters and killings, yet it didn’t matter because it was so difficult to learn about one another.

So seeing each other “bond” over you was more than necessary for their ever-lasting relationship. With a sigh, Sylus lifted himself from the couch, stretching his arms as he prepared himself for the main course.

“Anywhom, let’s get straight to the point. You want to fuck her and I want to film, how’s that?”

“There’s no benefit in your end.”

The other chuckled as he undressed himself, taking off his blazer and other hunting gear.

“Oh how right you are, I forget you still have a brain in that sick head of yours.”

Caleb sat in Sylus’ place, keeping you on his lap as he positioned you slightly over his cock. Your head lolled around your shoulders, your brain fuzzy as you tried to make out the television’s grey pictures. However, it was soon covered with toned abs, pale and leading down to another weeping cock.

Your chin was lifted slightly, and you were met eye to eye with the horrid man again. Beneath you, your panties and shorts were torn off, and another cock rubbed itself on your glistening folds. Its fat tip pushed slightly in your stretched hole, being gentle as it slipped inside with your tight grip.

“I’m glad we meet again, it’s been a while since we saw eye to eye.”

You didn’t have the energy to laugh at his sick joke, and the night’s events were draining you of your energy and awareness. Your hips were gripped tightly as they were pushed down onto the dick below you, fully engulfing it with a breathy moan. Sylus takes advantage of your open lips, and shoves his cock aggressively into your throat.

Your eyes squeeze shut as he grabs a fistful of your locks, keeping himself in control of you. He was balls deep, his girth hard to take in as your lips fully wrapped around his base. You probably looked pathetic like this, his hips snapping ruthlessly as the camera swung over your face.

The sickos will watch the tape for nights on end, and you knew that. Your consciousness was only maintained with the slam of skin beneath you, Caleb’s moans audibly heard as he used you like a fleshlight. Your pussy was sweet to the thrust, making lewd noises as he sunk himself in your warmth. It felt like absolute heaven to be in you, and in his mind, he still had a million positions to try out with you. You could be passed out or sleeping by the time he did all of them, but it wouldn’t matter— your muffled moans and trembles of your body was enough to know that you found pleasure in them as well.

“You’re doing so good for the camera sweetie.” Sylus gasped, his head tilted back as he felt his release coming in, “Fuck— such a good girl like this.”

Your tits bounced with each slam, roll, and grind of the men, completely disregarding your mewling moans. Another cumshot hit your throat, making you gargle as your hands reached for the waist in front of you. Your strength was simply not enough to push him away, because he kept fucking himself in you, pushing his cum down your throat forcibly.

Your nose burned and your jaw ached with the relentless brutality, but so was your legs. Caleb was like a dog panting over your ear, losing himself as squeezed your breasts and fingers fumbled over your clit.

You felt like you came every second, your legs and mouth adjusted to being wide open to every attempt. You were like a rag doll being manhandled in every position, stuffed and folded to their content. You lost count of the praise they gave you, as well as the subtle threats if you dare let their cum drip out of you.

It was overwhelming.

But. So.

Fucking.

Good.

The sound of television awoke your slumber, and you moved to thrumming aches in your body. It took you awhile before your eyes adjusted to blinking lights, and you turned, seeing the television still on.

It was still playing the slasher movie, making you confused as you stared at your surroundings. Nothing was off— nor was there sight of Caleb.

Your coffee table still had your serums and the slightly-open nail polish. You were enveloped in your crow blanket, nestled on the loveseat of the living room.

“God, I need to stop watching scary movies.” you mumble, slapping yourself on the face with a wince, “Caleb was right, they’re not for me.”

Your brows instantly furrowed as you stared at your hands. The blinking lights made you doubt what you saw for a second, but then it was as clear as day.

Your palms were scratched.

As if you were climbing bricks.

Your eyes widened as you threw the blanket off yourself, your mind running over the not-so-fake dream. It can’t be real, it absolutely can’t. Your thoughts were soon interrupted, and you turn, seeing the vibrating kitchen phone.

Unknown caller ID, receive voicemail? Press 1 to accept. Press 2 to decline.

You sprinted to the kitchen, ignoring the ache in your legs as you frantically pressed 1. The sky was still dark, and you listened to the following beep,

“I never got to ask sweetie, so I’ll leave this message.”

A brief pause.

“What’s your favorite scary movie?”

Gotham’s been terrorized by the worst people you could ever imagine, the kind that’ll stick with you forever and take residence to your nightmares if you were unfortunate enough. Many were hurt or even murdered as a result of the villains’ terrorization, with vigilantes running through the night to capture and send them to Arkham Asylum.

With the existence of a Psychopathic Clown, his equally psychopathic girlfriend with PHD’s that’s been wasted down the line, the Mother Nature freak, the ridiculously huge man with a gas mask on, the green coloured living question mark, and many others, no one would’ve ever thought anything could get any worse.

Until some criminals’ bodies turn up across the streets in such disturbing manner that haunts the witnesses to death.

One, a criminal who murdered young and homeless boys, gutted deeply to the point of their intestines hanging out. Another, a criminal known for kidnapping and selling people’s organs, mutilated with their torso torn back to expose the organs settled inside of them. Another one, a priest-turned-criminal who’s been violating women and children, crucified naked in his own church with his eyes gouged out, a Bible verse carved in his chest; ‘And if your eye causes you to sin, gouge it out and throw it away.’ Matthew 18:9; his penis cut off and body seemingly violated as well. Another more turns up, a governor-turned-criminal who’s been feeding into the rich despite their oath of generosity towards the poor, severely tortured with the skin on his back cut open, ribs severed from the spine and broken to the sides in order to create the illusion of wings, fluttering lungs pulled out from their chest cavity to resemble an eagle’s wings, with the word ‘traitor’ carved on his forehead.

The brutality and gruesome nature of the murders has set an alarming panic and fear across Gotham City that forced civilians into locking their doors at night. Criminals who were unidentified and not found by Gotham Police Department were also turning up in a form of miserable, tortured soul, along with the evidence and proofs of their crimes being carelessly laid beside their lifeless corpse.

The killer taunts those who are in charge of justice within their city each time the damned were unfortunate enough to be hunted down; pigs of failure written in the criminal’s blood right beside the drawing of a police’s logo.

However, despite how gruesome and disturbing the murders were, most people couldn’t deny that it was doing the city a favor. Justice System has failed more times than one could count to the extent of victims yearning to exact revenge themselves against their perpetrator, which causes most to react rather positively to the wrongful, unlikely hero who had seem to suddenly appear out of nowhere. The haunted finally getting the chance to slay the traumatic demons with the help of another psychopath on the loose.

Another justified monstrosity shouldn’t be the counter against one inhumane monstrosity that caused so much pain, trauma, and misery. But kindness could not vanquish one’s tainted blood. Forgiveness could not suddenly wash away the sins engraved deeply into one’s soul.

Imperfect, the victims muttered. An imperfect yet perfect way to save our burning souls wrongfully condemned by the criminals.

Red Hood has heard their murmurs.

Silent whispers of gratitude that fell on deaf ears, their previously dim soul brightening in relief and sanctuary with smiles on their faces as the Universe had finally took mercy on them and sent a Fallen Angel to slay the Demons away. He’s watched their spirit uplift, no longer chained down by the trauma and fear of the monsters that once ruined their lives, able to walk the streets carefree of tormentors. He’s watched their stiff posture visibly loosen, lively peacefulness settling itself at last within their haunted eyes. He’s watched them glow with happiness not feeling the presence of their perpetrator every couple of seconds, finally capable of living without needing to constantly look over their shoulders in paranoia and fear.

Ghostface is what the serial killer’s called, nickname born out of the mask that resembled a ghost always being left behind in crime scenes, each slightly different.

Jason has seen you. He didn’t mean to, really.

The temptation to get at least one look at you was great every-time he patrolled, wishing to just catch glimpse of an immoral hero who could make sacrifices no actual heroes could — who’s doing exactly what he wished before for Batman to do.

The Universe seems to have granted his wishes when his eyes catches the void of ghostface’s eyes, your mask tainted in splatters of blood from the dead criminal below you. Jason feels his world come to a stop as you slowly rise from crouching position and reveal your unnaturally tall height, broad shoulders visible under the black hooded leather. You hold silence and calmness despite being caught, tilting your head slightly to the side.

His heartbeat quickens yet he doesn’t feel fear. Jason idiotically steps closer as if he was in a trance, burning your existence within his eyes to engrave in his memory. Your bloody knife barely grazes his neck to stop him before using it to tilt his chin up, your figure looming and towering over him while seemingly staring into his eyes through his helmet.

A sense of peacefulness overcomes Jason being in your presence despite the absolute brutality and mercilessness that surrounded your entire being. You were deadly, silent, certainly creative with your work that it deems almost artistic, as if the criminals’ bodies were your own canvas to paint on — and Jason finds solace in you. A man he always needed, someone who’d be willing to cross the line and get rid of the actual evil for the sake of victims that’d be forever haunted if it continues to exist.

“I’ve heard things about you, Red Hood.”

Low, raspy, monotone voice speaks, sending shivers down his spine. It sounds cool and handsome regardless of the obvious use of voice changer, somehow littered with tiniest hint of flirtatiousness.

It takes him quite a while to answer, barely managing to let out a “yeah?” as he feels you drag the knife slightly closer to his pulse. His heartbeat quickens, but slows down when the cold metal was finally pulled away.

“Pleasant things,” You hummed, before your voice lowered a few octaves, “Can’t say the same about Batman.” Anger seems to seep through your tone that felt a little more than just sympathy for victims of villains Batman refused to put six feet under. Jason wondered if you’re also one of the victims his father failed.

“You… You know him that much?” Jason’s voice shakes from the nerve, your presence somehow greatly affecting him.

“I think everyone knows him enough,” You chuckled, but it sounded so empty that Jason can’t help but feel the goosebumps rise on his skin. It was quite chilling to meet someone who shows only a certain amount of emotion which could even be felt expressionless due to the monotonous pitch. The ghostface mask certainly did its job of making you seem more less human, the unmoving expression of ghost being horrified to death adding to the eeriness of your toneless mechanic voice.

Jason’s breath hitched when you took one step closer.

“But I know more about you. Your little past and the sufferings you’ve endured,” It’s spoken as if his life was one of your necessary investigation in your twisted justice. “It’s unfair, don’t you think? I would’ve gutted the Joker like a fish if it were to happen to my son.” There’s a condescending way in which you spoke, not directed at Jason but to Bruce.

“How—” Jason swallowed. “How did you—”

“I can make your dreams come true,” You interrupted him with a tempting offer, shutting him up effectively. Wide grin plastered your face despite not being seen behind your mask. “I can kill the Clown for you, Red Hood. If it means it’ll silence your troubled spirit. If it’ll bring you peace. I can hurt him on your behalf just like he deserves.”

It was like a whisper from the devil, slithering its way into Jason’s heart and mind to possess his soul, mirroring the one which whispered on Adam and Eve’s ears.

He’s been wanting — needing — to hear those words come out of Bruce. His suffering and death seemingly being brushed off as a cruel accident shattered him more than he’d ever admit, Bruce’s unhealthy coping mechanism and morality getting in the way of showing his love for Jason that left the younger man feel lesser than he was. Bruce was a complex person that’s sometimes difficult to understand, his impressive ways to stick to his morals being exactly his character, but Jason wanted for once, to actually feel how important he was to his father.

Was that too much to ask for, or was he just unworthy of the entirety of it?

“Why would you do that for me?” Confusion and subtle suspicion filled his tone as Jason narrowed his eyes, trying to figure out your intention despite the rush of hope that shot throughout his chest. He forced himself to feel nothing when you leaned in closer.

“Because you were wronged, of course.” You simply stated. “You are a victim. Not more, not less. You deserve a little more than just empty justice. And I’m a man who got tired of vigilantes that are afraid to make sacrifices for the greater good.” Then, you tilt your head slightly to the side in a way that’s somehow alluring. “But I can also say I’m intrigued by you.”

Jason’s heartbeat quickens again when your big hand seems to wrap perfectly around his throat, fingers resting just above his pulse points. It makes such filthy thoughts flood themselves into his mind, your long and quite thick fingers falling victims to his tainted imagination, and he had to give everything in himself not to bare his throat more for you. You seem pleased of his lack of disobedience and bite, having expected him to shove your hand away or flinch back before you could touch him. You’ve seen Red Hood once and how his uncontrollable rage resulted in violence, heavy burdens and extreme trauma turning him into a ticking time bomb that could explode any minute with the wrong move. He was absolutely lethal, the bullets serving as the evidence of his wrath and resentment towards the underground scumbags. It’s amusing that you have the man of violence himself now somehow completely under your control, surprisingly quiet and shy and obedient. You wondered if this is how he was before he was ruined by the cruelty of the world.

“You want it, don’t you? For me to kill the Joker.”

Jason feels as if you know everything he wants. Is this what it feels like to be important?

It takes a little while for him to answer, but he eventually came up with a “You’ll do that?” which sounded vulnerable and weak for the first time in his second life. Your heart clenched at the doubt and seemingly child-like vulnerability in which he uttered the words, as if he was afraid to trust something after being betrayed countless of times, reminding you of the sole person you’ve even began doing all of this for. They were quite similar yet so different — your older brother and Jason.

You hadn’t meant to cross his boundaries and unknowingly step into the empty hole that made home in his heart. Unconsciously slithering in like a snake by touching the subject his heart was longing for, not realizing his childhood’s still remaining within his spirit.

All he wanted was love and to feel safe again. You didn’t know the Red Hood was so adorably pitiful. A smirk plastered your face.

“I will,” You reassured and leaned your face inches away from his, the hand on his throat lifting his helmet slightly.

Jason doesn’t retaliate, blinded by a meat of hope dangled in front of him. He doesn’t move as the lower half of his face was exposed, and you lifted your own mask the same using your other hand. Jason willingly, obediently closes his eyes before your lips attached to his — a kiss of death, tasting like blood and cruelty. Warm and soft despite your rough, cold-blooded, corrupted soul. A kiss from the devil.

When Jason opened his eyes, you had already disappeared into the darkness with blood stains on the ground you stood before, a single note left behind; Hell will reopen for the Clown.

After neatly tucking the note inside his jacket and making sure no evidence has been accidentally left on the crime scene, Red Hood smiles for the first time in a long while and reaches for the comms without a heavy heart.

“Batman, I found another body.”

Whatever happens, he’ll have no knowledge of the following misfortune that’ll befall on the Joker. It’s the righteous serial killer’s doing, after all.

What was used to be a maniacal laughter turned into screams of agony and pain. Strong stench of death and blood makes euphoria rush within your mind, the feeling of slicing through flesh with your knife bringing pleasure and ecstasy that made your pants tight. There’s a certain amount of satisfaction in the way your own actions cause serious harm and scarring to criminals who once deemed themselves powerful, being reduced into nothing but a powerless prey that could easily be gotten rid of.

You feel increasingly powerful the more you strip them of their dignity and arrogance as they shed blood on the holy ground. Your existence alone striking them with crippling fear and anxiety feeds into your ego, yet you never stray away from the sole purpose or reason for your murders — making them taste their own medicine.

From what you found on countless deep dive and research, Joker preyed on Red Hood when he was still a young child full of life and joy, having been under the name Robin at the time. Second Robin to be exact, considering he was a lot different from the first one. It actually surprisingly pained you when you’d seen how much of an adorable, dorky, nice kid he was before misfortune cut his life short. You would’ve never thought you would find a kid adorable in your entire life, the little menaces often being nothing more than a headache to be around with that caused a certain dislike to grow towards them within you, but Jason was everything a cute kid was. Just excited to be there, to be fighting alongside Batman, to be relevant.

Such a precious boy ruined for the sake of shits and giggles for the Clown. For the sake of getting under Batman’s skin. And the Bat couldn’t even make fucking amends to his flaws as a father and mentor.

Well, he didn’t need to anymore.

You’ll give Red Hood— Jason Todd —what he wants. Yearned for. Perhaps, even what the other civilians who have fallen victims to this vile criminal want. You would stop at nothing until every criminal is gurgling and choking on their own blood.

Joker’s scream shoots a jolt of electricity within your body as your knife pierce through his skinny thigh and to the ground, pinning his leg down. You had been doing an effective job of reducing the maniac into nothing but a screaming, cowering average victim by torture. Bruises, burns, gashes, and stab wounds littered his body that was done carefully enough to not be life-threatening. Fucker was laughing maniacally at first, of course. It irritated you so much that you might’ve went a little overboard.

Watching Joker heave and struggle to breathe from the pain, you tilted your head and roughly grabbed his throat. It catches him off guard and he grips your wrist, barely even having the strength to fight you off. You’re amused by the entirety of Joker’s nature, how he’s still just an average man that can easily be overpowered — nothing that makes him special enough to not be killed, becoming proof of Batman’s selfish willingness to let the victims suffer than bring them actual peace.

You’ve never uttered a word since you captured him and it unnerved Joker from the beginning, but then, words finally come out of your mouth in a form of monotonous, mechanical, emotionless, eerie voice as you lean over him; “Laugh it out, Joker. Why so serious?”

It sounded like a death sentence.

He’s right in a way, because another of your knife pierced the corner of his mouth soon as you uttered the words. Your other hand tightened on his arteries to choke him while you drag the knife to slit the side of his mouth into a grin, following the lines of his red lipstick. It was certainly not a clean cut, but an artist has their own creative ways to make their art. Tears mixed in with blood that gushes out of his face, complete horrors written across Joker’s eyes which boosts your satisfaction. You go on and do the same thing to the other side of his mouth, before finishing your art piece by carving ‘J’ on his painted cheek.

You resist the urge to moan at the sight of blood coating your fine piece, always finding it to be an amazing finishing touch.

From then on, Joker was brought to literal Hell.

Jason flinches when a playful knock sounded from his safe house’s window, cautiously approaching to see ghostface waving at him through the glass. His eyes widened and immediately opens the window to let you in, not wanting anyone to see you — your sudden appearance distracting him from the fact he’s never given anyone the location of his safe house.

He stops in track at the blood splatters across your mask, and just then had he noticed you seemed to be hiding something behind your back with one hand. It definitely strikes his curiosity, but he somehow didn’t feel like you were holding something that could harm him.

“You got something for me, ghostface?” Jason feels you grin under your mask.

“Got you a present,” Your raspy, rough voice enthusiastically quipped.

Jason’s breath hitches when you show what you were holding — the Joker’s decapitated head in a square glass container tainted by its blood. You obviously had planned to bring it barehand, but you considered the possibility of its blood dripping down on his safe house and becoming a false evidence to point him to the murder, which prompted you to put it inside the container. An unbelievably sweet gesture for a fucking psychopath like you.

Jason could feel his heart beat rapidly as he takes in the animal’s state, carved up grin and the letter J and the horrors seen in its lifeless eyes proving the absolute misery and suffering it went through before being put down. The monster was finally, finally slain and gone forever from his life. Nightmares detangles from his spirit and the past unwraps away from his soul, utter peace and relief spreading throughout his chest. Tears gathered in his eyes at the feeling of being free at last from the life long torment, breath shaking as his knees wobbled.

The child in himself, the innocent Robin that was killed unfairly, finally rests in peace.

Then he sees you, his hero, waving your seemingly new knife playfully in the air with your outfit splattered in blood without a care that you actually saved him, and Jason feels a sudden surge of arousal and will to submit. To give you everything, anything.

“Do you love it, Red Hood?”

Without answering you, Jason grabs the glass container with shaky hands and sets it aside on the counter before stepping back closer to you again, blood rushing to his veins from arousal. He removes his helmet with a thud on the floor and falls to his knees in front of you, lustful and yearning emerald eyes looking up at you.

“Let me thank you, please.”

It makes you groan as your pants significantly tightens more.

You slide your knife back into the holster before cupping his beautiful face in your hands, and thank fucking Heavens there wasn’t any blood on it that would taint his face, because he’s a sight to behold. He’s truly a gem, something precious you had never seen before. “So beautiful,” You whispered, making Jason flush. “Baring yourself to me for such a simple present, doll?”

“Not a simple present,” Jason mumbled as he snuggles on the palm of your hands. “You saved me.”

You hum appreciatively, getting the itch to bare yourself to him as well. “You wanna thank me by what?”

Jason looks back at you, face flushed with a little hint of uncertainty and embarrassment, doubts. “I— uhm,” He stammers, but encouraged by your thumb’s gentle stroke on his cheek. “By… by becoming yours.”

Your cock throbs. Fuck, he’s so fucking adorable, you just wanna fuck his guts out. You’re usually tempted to gut people, not fuck their guts— which is funny to say the least— but you weren’t going to say no when the Red Hood’s so willing to offer himself up.

“You wanna take my mask off, doll?” He seems surprised by your question as if he hadn’t thought of it, making you chuckle. “If you wanna be mine, I gotta be yours too, don’t I?” It was dangerous to reveal your identity to him, but you couldn’t care less, especially when you could just fuck his brains out to shut him up. That’s the plan, first time that didn’t include butchering or cutting a body up.

Jason fucking Todd and his effects on you.

The emerald eyed male hesitantly grasped your mask when you led his hands to it, slowly lifting it over your head. He’s met with a fucking luscious feature to ever be adorned on a man and dark, lustfully murderous blood red eyes that makes a whimper slip past his lips. You merely widened your eyes at the sound he made before immediately grabbing his jaw and smashing your lips against his, swallowing Jason’s surprised gasp.

He reciprocates the insatiable hunger you displayed, tongue dancing along with yours and moaning into the kiss when your fingers lightly tugged on his hair. You pull him up in amidst of making out and squeeze his ass, encouraging him to wrap his legs around your hips. You detach your lips from his to trail kisses down his jaw and neck as you walked towards his bedroom, questionably knowing where it is, and Jason tilts his head back to give you more access with closed eyes. Letting him stimulate both of your restrained cocks by grinding down, you sat down on the bed and sucked on his throat as Jason moaned.

“Please, please…” He whimpers, uncontrollably moving his hips in a perfect rhythm yet he seemed to want something else.

You pulled away and traced his lips with your thumb, watching as he naturally took it in and sucked, giving you a desperate look. Swiftly turning off the voice changer attached to your neck in a form of choker, you chuckled when his hands fiddled with the belt on your hooded coat. “So needy, aren’t you?” Your real voice sends shivers down his spine.

An alluring, low, slightly rough pitch and somehow more emotionless than when you were using the voice changer. It makes his cock twitch and empty hole clench down on nothing, the need to be stuffed full of your cum swarming in his belly. You’re fucking bewitching, a man made up from every guy and girl’s fantasy, wet dream, and your attractiveness mirroring the Devil’s that would tempt and lure others to sin.

How the fuck were you real?

“Speak up, pretty bird.” You smirked, “What do you want?”

“Your cock,” Jason mutters, cheeks tinted in pink. “Wanna suck your cock and make you feel good.”

“Fuck…” You shifted in place, “You’ll do that f’me? Get my cock nice and wet to take you apart? To fuck your guts out?”

Jason shakily inhales and nods, climbing off your lap and kneeling on the floor. You lean back on your hands as he unstraps your belt and slide your zipper down, slightly raising your hips to help him get rid of the excess clothes. Your thick and lengthy cock smacks against your clothed stomach, making Jason’s mouth water. Thick veins throbbed on your big shaft, the tip angry and red from arousal leaking precum. It wasn’t just big, it was long, and Jason squeezes his thighs together to keep himself from just riding your cock all day.

His hand wraps around the base, starting to stroke it with a content rhythm. God, you were so fucking big. It’d definitely split him open if you shove it in so suddenly and fill him up nice. It’d make him scream his head off from the unbearable length and girth, almost too much, and Jason wants you to force him to take it. Pin him down and fuck him despite his pleas to stop.

Jason swipes his thumb over the slit, smearing precum, pumping it for a good amount before licking a stripe up the underside of your cock. You shudder, removing your gloves to slip your bare fingers through Jason’s hair, encouraging him to take you in. He obeys, relaxing his throat first before sliding your cock inside his warm mouth, and you groaned at the warmth that surrounded you. It almost didn’t fit from how big you were, but Jason braced himself and took it in further until he gagged as the tip touched the back of his throat. Wrapping his hand around your shaft that he couldn’t take in, stroking gently as if to apologize.

A moan slips past your lips when he starts bobbing his head, tongue brushing against the underside of your dick. “Fuck… Doin’ so good,” You roll your head back. “Such a pretty face to fuck, ain’t ya?”

Jason whines, tears gathered in his eyes as he sucks and fastens his rhythm. Curses, grunts leave your lips that left him feeling all hot and bothered, his other hand moving to skillfully pull his pants down and free his aching cock.

You see him touching himself and a smirk adorns your sinful face, gently scratching his scalp with your nails which earned you a whimper from him. “Go on, fuck yourself. We both know it wouldn’t fit that easily without proper prep,” Expression twisting into a cocky one, your grip on his hair tightened. “I’ll do as I please with your mouth until you’re done.”

Without waiting for his approval, you roughly shoved your cock deep down his throat and moaned loudly, throwing your head back. Jason gagged with a loud whimper as his eyes rolled back into his skull and cum shot out from his throbbing cock, hips jutting forward and twitching due to the sudden orgasm. You chuckle lowly, amusement and lust glinting in your bright red eyes, before you pull back and ram on his throat again.

Jason’s cries and moans were muffled as you ruthlessly use his throat to gain pleasure. His mind has already turned into mush from your assaults, white cum and precum staining the floor yet he doesn’t put up a fight. Taking it all like the good, obedient boy that he is. He’s reached behind him to insert two fingers in his awaiting hole, walls clamping down on the digits from the arousal of his throat being utterly wrecked.

Yesyesyes, please. He chanted in his mind. Use me, mark me, cum in my throat, make me yours.

The moment you fulfilled your promise and delivered him the head of his enemy, he was already yours. It’s all he ever wanted. Unquenchable thirst that always gnawed on his throat and hunger that left his stomach restless, his soul practically teared in half from being battered and beaten. He matters now — mattered enough to you, that you went ahead and killed the source of his misery. The love exploding in his chest was almost unbearable; he was already high on cloud nine from the moment he’s seen you present the head so cheerfully.

You see how he looks up at you, emerald eyes almost displaying hearts with how much he was melting. He’s taken your murderous act as an affection, and you couldn’t be more happy, because it’s what you intended.

“Shit, baby… Gonna cum soon,” You panted, thrusting vigorously. Jason hums and flexes his throat to provide you more pleasure, making you tighten the grip on his hair. “You want me to cum down your throat?”

You earned a desperate whine from him, closing his eyes to prove he was waiting for it. His fingers kept their own assault on his prostate, scissoring and stretching the squishy walls, muffled moans escaping him.

God, he looked so fucking gorgeous. He’d look even more gorgeous with your dick ramming inside him.

Jason feels your big cock throb in his mouth and his fingers move more aggressively to pleasure himself, wanting to reach his high at the same time as you. Stimulating your tip with the back of his throat a few times, you moaned loudly with a curse when Jason slightly flicks his tongue over your sensitive underside, forcing an orgasm out of your body. White, thick, warm seeds spurt out from your slit to his awaiting throat as Jason whimpered in delight and shot another layer of cum on the wet stained floor, hips thrusting in the air.

He greedily swallows every drop that spilled down his mouth despite the euphoria making him feel dizzy as his body slightly trembles.

You chuckled, breathing heavily, pleased expression spread across your face. “Good boy. That was such a good throat-fuck.”

The raspy, sultry tone of your voice makes electricity and chills run through Jason’s spine as his walls clench down on his fingers, yearning to be filled. Jason certainly doesn’t have a womb — it’s anatomically impossible — yet he couldn’t help but feel like it’s there, waiting and aching to be fucked and bred. He needs your cum to be pushed so far inside him. Need to be marked entirely as yours inside and out. Need you to rearrange his guts, fuck his brains out, breed him full, then fuck your cum further back into him.

Jason pulled his fingers out, whimpering at the loss of contact, before looking back up at you with begging eyes. “Can you-?” His voice cracks as he swallows, “Take me apart, please. Make me yours, fuck, I wanna be yours.”

You noticed tears gathering in his eyes, as if being rejected of his want to be your possession would be an ultimate heartbreak in his life; a life-threatening, gnawing thorn in his heart that’ll tear him apart piece by piece and shredding his soul. Jason thinks he can’t live without becoming yours, his savior’s. He can’t live without the source of his safety, the man that fulfilled his silly little dream and sacrificed his own sanity for it.

It absolutely amuses you that he’s become so attached just because you’ve driven him away from harm’s way. A little dumb, but he was your little dumb doll.

You gently caress his face and Jason leans into your touch, making your lips curl upwards into a smile. “Of course, doll.”

It leads to Jason being pressed face first on the mattress as you rail him from behind, sinful and alluring noises leaving his lips stained in drool. Your name escapes him like a chanted prayer, hands gripping the sheets, electricity sparking within his mind that left him dumb and unable to think coherently.

“Fuh-fuck! mgh, ah- yes, oh my god—!” He cries out when you pulled almost entirely back and rammed your cock roughly into him, almost seeing stars in his vision.

The roughness in which you handled him, the perfect angle of your hips allowing you to force pleasure out of his body every-time you thrust, the way you push his back down on the mattress to make him arch more into your merciless tactic, leaves Jason absolutely delirious. You didn’t just fuck him good; you fucked him with absolute vigor and violence, occasionally biting strongly on his shoulder to draw blood, showcasing your natural instincts as a serial killer. He feels your big fucking dick throb and gets impossibly bigger inside him each time his blood seeps out the broken skin, and Jason’s head spins at how much it drove arousal in his core.

“Good fuckin’ sex toy,” You grunted, roughly slamming your hips against his and causing a sharp moan to erupt from Jason.

“B-big—! s’too big- fuck!” Jason whines, tears spilling endlessly down his cheeks.

You smirk as you feel your ego skyrocket at being able to reduce a rather muscular man into nothing but a whining, blabbering bitch. “Yeah? I do split you open, don’t I? But you love it since you’re such a fuckin’ slut.”

“oh- aghn! y-yours— hnngh! Your s-slut! No one else’s-!” He chokes out, desperately reaching for you behind him.

“So fuckin’ adorable,” You chuckled and grabbed his hand, pinning it back to the mattress as you hover over him. You seem to fit against each other perfectly well, your large and tall body able to encage him that left Jason’s stomach fluttering. He’s taken a lot liking of the fact you’re bigger than him, considering he’s never been the smaller one when he was with others. It gives him a sense of shelter.

“p-please— pleaseplease- oh! cum— fuck… cum in me again!” Jason blabbered.

You can’t help but comply to his request, fastening your pace and drilling more into him. Incoherent sentences spill from his drooling mouth when he feels your cock pulse within his walls that signified your soon release. There’s a purpose in which you thrust your hips now — more sharp and angled yet a little sloppy, aimed to brush against his prostate and make him feel utterly good.

“Shit… Cummin’, doll.” You grunted right in his ear before shoving him on the mattress by the back of his nape and slamming all the way down on his already gaping hole.

Jason nearly screams, voice cracking, as his orgasm hits like a strong tide of wave at the same time you spilled thick layer of white semen into his fucked out guts. You ride out your orgasm by thrusting slowly a few times as Jason’s body violently shakes from the aftershock. He subconsciously whines in annoyance when some of your previous cum seems to overflow and replaced by your recent one, bucking his hips as if to use your big cock as a plug to keep them all in. His belly felt full from how much you’ve been filling him with your seed yet it still didn’t feel enough. Jason wanted more; he knew you weren’t going full on him yet.

You swiftly turned him around on his back without pulling out and kissed him roughly. Jason mewls into the kiss when the position makes you push more deeper into him, his hands immediately clasping at the back of his thick thighs to pull them up and make it easier for you to fuck.

“My cute little thing,” You murmured against his lips and bit the skin to draw blood, Jason’s hole squeezing down on you from both the pain and pet name. He greedily whimpers your name, holding onto you for life and yearning for more of you despite already receiving what he wants.

It was so fucking adorable and arousing to see him desperate for not just you, but your entire being as well, willing to welcome such darkness with open arms and tearful smile. You weren’t really a desirable person; so many people have thrown themselves at you for your conventionally attractive features and masculine body type that swoons hundreds yet cower away in fear and speak of you in disgrace when shown the demons living inside of you. No one could seem to look past your murderous, cold-blooded psychopathy — some have attempted to, which only resulted in your darkness growing bigger when they break their own promises. You weren’t meant to be loved. Your destiny was written in the stars and the Gods have cursed you with eternity of living in loneliness and madness without cure. You were meant to be feared, a lonely and violent soul that couldn’t be tamed, your sole purpose of existence being a destroyer; nothing more or less.

Jason, however, seems indifferent to your fate.

Instead of running away in disgust and fear at your acts of violence around the city, he was seeking for you. He’s seen what you’ve done, what you could do without feeling remorse, what monsters lie beneath your existence — and still, he graciously opens his heart (and legs) for you. There’s love and desire within his eyes where distaste should be, touch so soft and warm it baptizes your tainted skin. You’re soaked in blood yet Jason takes his time with you to clean them up. Born with thorns yet he willingly prickles his fingers on them.

You’re a danger everywhere you go, but to him, you were home.

It makes your heart clench; he’s broken the Gods curse and it costs him his freedom, because now he’s caught up in your webs. You wouldn’t let him go, like a snake that’s wrapped itself around its prey in a death grip.

Jason wanted to be yours. What better ways to fulfill his wish if not possessing his body, soul, and spirit?

“Sweet dumb thing,” You purred, hips thrusting slow and sensual, unable to forgive parts of his walls that weren’t touched by your cum. “Mine to fuck, ruin, or make love to. That’s right, yeah?”

Jason nods, moaning softly. Your hands now replaced where his were on the back of his thighs, bending him almost in half as you roll your hips to gently brush against every weak spot he has. The sudden shift in rhythm and atmosphere confuses Jason for a bit, his fogged mind unable to comprehend the situation at hand, but the intimacy strikes a further pleasure that was nearly mind-breaking. He’s been reduced to a moaning mess, blood, sweat, tears and cum coating his body.

“p-please,” Jason keened, like it felt agonizing to be loved ever so gently. “I— ah… I want- I want you,” He stuttered out between moans.

“You’re having me, aren’t you?” Replying, you nipped on his neck and sucked, leaving behind a purple bruise.

He nearly cries, shaking his head. A waterfall of tears streamed down his face, and you find yourself captivated by them. It was almost ethereal despite being one of human’s responses to most things imaginable; your victims always shed one or two accompanied by begs of mercy, but all you’ve ever thought of them was amusing. It’s been used as an escaping tactic from you before, which was never successful due to your lack of morality and sympathy towards your target. They were pathetic, but Jason was divine. Tears suited him— not tears of fear, but tears of pleasure and utopia.

Your focus snaps back on reality when Jason suddenly pulled you down by the nape and bit down hard on your shoulder. A pleasured groan leaves your lips at the pain, hips bucking, making him whimper.

“Jason—”

“Please,” He cuts you off and finally murmurs; “Wanna f-feel how… mhm-! how you actually love…”

It strikes something in your core. Despite your perfect skills of hiding your true nature and never being caught, Jason saw it right through you, how you were holding yourself back for his sake. Quite ironic to witness a cold-blooded killer care for someone enough to go soft, even though it looked like you were going rough on him, and it warmed Jason’s heart. But he was a greedy, fucked up human being who wanted all of you. It wouldn’t be enough until he knows he’s taken you fully.

An amused laughter erupts from your chest. Eyes darkening in lust, Jason feels one of your hands wrap around his throat warningly as the other pushed his torso flat down on the mattress. “You… You’ll be the fuckin’ death of me, Todd.”

You pull all the way back before ramming in, making Jason let out a loud, choked up moan as his eyes rolled back into his head. Your thrusts relentless and powerful, slamming against Jason’s body with an intensity that made his head spin, your hand holding his throat as a leverage. Your name spills from his lips like a prayer, something that seems to ignite a possessive feeling within you. Jason can’t help but mewl when your grip tightened on his arteries, throwing his head back to let you gain fully control.

The way he’s so obedient and putty in your hands despite knowing you can kill him if you truly meant to makes you love him even more, fucking him and taking away his ability to breathe wasn’t enough. Greediness turning overboard with the darkness and psychopathy that lies within your existence; you almost wanted to cut him open and crawl inside his guts so you could truly claim Jason, inside and out. You wanted to be more closer to him, see how far you can go without Jason pushing you away or getting disturbed.

Jason’s eyes widened when a cold metallic silver touched his cheek, seeing you holding your signature knife through blurred vision from his tears. However, he doesn’t flinch away like you expected him to, instead his walls squeezes down on your cock and his own twitched against his stomach. The unexpected reaction pulls a loud groan out of you, your hips bucking.

“Shit, Jay… You lettin’ me kill you or somethin’? Good fucking cunt just tightened on me,” You rasped, thrusting your cock against his prostate.

Jason gasps, his hands grabbing the mattress and holding it in a tight grip. It’s so shameful how turned on he was at the danger that lurked around you, his usually sharp instincts relinquished to be replaced by naiveté and stupidity for love. He must’ve gone insane; getting killed was one of his triggers because of his past yet his soul yielded nothing in retaliation to the possibility of your blade slicing through him. All of him seems to have come to love and trust you too much just because you’ve decapitated the beast his entire existence feared, which a part of him found utterly ridiculous and idiotic, but not enough to stop.

He wouldn’t stop himself from loving you — not when you’ve given him the love he always yearned for.

You lean in and ghost your lips over his as you dragged the knife on his torso, lightly scraping him. Jason’s breath quickens, his pupils blown wide in lust and need, anticipation seemingly running through his body as his moans turned into desperate whines.

“p-please…!” He chokes out a whisper, rolling his head to the side and whimpering when you snapped your hips warningly on his. “feels— fuck! feels g-good—! c-carve me… hngh! carve me u-up-! shit… make me fuckin’ bleed…! please,” Jason nearly cries for you.

Groaning out a curse, you reflexively bite down hard on the crook of his neck and push more of your cock inside him, causing a loud keen to erupt from Jason as he squirms and cums on his own stomach at the addictive sense of pleasure and pain shooting through his body.

You licked the blood that seeped out from his skin, satisfied at the clear bite mark you’ve left visible before sensually grinding your hips. Jason whimpered quietly, his body still trembling from the aftershocks of his orgasm.

“That’s it, doll. Let go, feel good. m’not gonna hurt ya, sweetheart. It’ll all feel good,” Whispering sweet words, you slowly press the tip of the knife just above the v line of his hip and drag it down. Jason hissed at the prickle of pain and tensed up, but the pleasure of your cock stimulating his sensitive walls was too great that forced him to relax. “It’s alright, doll. Jus’ carving you up with my name, so you’ll be mine forever. Isn’t that what you want? Be fuckin’ mine?”

Jason moaned softly, nodding his head. Series of pleasepleaseplease blabber out of him accompanied by heavenly noises he’s been making since you started taking him apart, his brain too fucked out that forcibly twisted pain into pleasure as all he could think about was becoming yours. You, his savior, his God, claiming him by marking him up with your name. Jason feels like he could fucking squirt from just that thought alone.

His blood seeping out from the letters of your name arouses you to no end, your cock throbbing inside him while you continue to move, the darkness within you being thoroughly fed of its bloodthirsty hunger. This is the first time it doesn’t gnaw at your skin to drive your knife deeper, pull the guts out, and splatter redness everywhere; instead, it wanted to be gentle, as if Jason was a significant existence too precious to hurt even for the Devil. A proof that Jason was always meant to be yours, the only one who the monster inside you would rather love than kill.

Carving the last letter, you laughed breathlessly in satisfaction and stabbed the knife on the headboard before slamming your lips against his, devouring his pleasurable noises. Jason whines, arms wrapping around your neck to pull you impossibly closer, arching his back when you switched into a much faster and rougher pace.

“Cummin’, fuck!” You grunted, to which Jason wrapped his legs around your hips to make sure it stays in.

“I-in— in me… fuck- oh my god— please… please, cum in me. Make me full again, p-please…” He begs, clenching his walls around you to push you over the edge, his own orgasm nearing.

Seeing him covered in his own tears, sweat, blood and drool fills you with nothing but pure ecstasy knowing it’s all because of you. The most appealing, ravishing man being a slutty mess right beneath you, begging to be bred and full of your cum, does feed too much into your ego. No one can do anything to take you away from him now, because you’re wrapped around his fingers as much as he is around yours.

“Anythin’ for ya, doll.” You chuckled, thrusting a couple more times before shoving your twitching cock deep into his guts with a moan and releasing your load. Jason mewls, his hole throbbing and squeezing down on you as he throws his head back, tainting his abdomen once more.

Riding out both of your highs, you let out a raspy groan and kissed his lips again, Jason weakly reciprocating due to the overstimulation. His body trembled hard, mind almost shutting down from the exhaustion and too much euphoria. “So good, doll. Took me like a good fuckin’ boy. Fuckin’ amazing.” You praised.

Jason could still see darkness in your eyes, the murderous devil, but there’s a hint of happiness he didn’t recognize before. Love and adoration filled your expression despite the violence engraved in your soul, and Jason finds himself smiling against your lips lightheadedly.

He whispers your name like a forbidden secret, then a curse that completely binds you to him; “I love you.”

You could get used to this, you suppose. There’s nothing more poetic than violence meeting love — two opposites can’t coexist with each other, but perhaps it’ll be forced to. After all, the Devil in you decided he was an untouchable divinity no one shall ever harm, not even yourself, despite its never-ending monstrosity towards humanity.

“I love you too, my Jason.”

When Joker’s decapitated head on a makeshift spear turned up that night, stacked upright in front of Arkham Asylum with blood splattered across the ground in words ‘True Justice for the Tortured Souls’ and a bloody ghostface mask laid aside for everyone else to see, Jason knew he was now in safe hands.

People say, never make a deal with the devil.

They never said he couldn’t love one, did they?

© all rights reserved to hadesrise ──── stealing, plagiarizing, or using my works for monetary gain is strictly prohibited. ask permission before reposting or translating.

you were pretty easy-going when it came to mike wheeler. even though you would outwardly roll your eyes and make fun of him and his ideas, there’s no denying that you’d probably learn to fly a plane if he asked you to. it was as if he had an invisible halo around his head that no one could see but you.

so when he asked if you wanted to hang out over winter break, it was an easy yes. naturally, you’d assumed the rest of the group would be there. it’d slipped your mind that max had told you about her date with lucas a few days ago, and the other two were probably doing god knows what on a friday night.

it made you uneasy, not knowing where everyone was all the time. especially these past few weeks, your paranoia only heightened as each member of the party got strange phone calls late at night. a shaky, low voice, calling himself ghostface, asking seemingly innocent trivia questions about horror movies. it was harmless up until he’d appear down the street from the party’s houses, standing in the middle of the road, draped in a long, black robe, his face covered with the stretched out face of a ghost.

not only were you alone with mike—a rare occasion—but he’d also brought you up to his room. it was unusual for you to be up here, your safe zone generally being anywhere from the basement and the kitchen, nowhere else. but at least you weren’t alone.

turns out, two negatives do not make a positive. there was enough on your mind as you sat on the edge of mike’s bed, watching him as he paced the room back and forth, ranting about an error his english teacher made when grading his essay and didn’t take accountability for. he was clearly too caught up to notice your discomfort, barely sparing a glance at you the entire time he talked.

“...are you okay?” he finally asks after taking a much needed breath between sentences, looking over at you and your clearly anxious form on his bed.

“what? yeah. of course.” you reply immediately with a shake of your head, never the one to be a bother in another person’s household. “just… how can you care about school so much when the party’s being preyed on by some sicko in a halloween costume?”

mike stiffens at your question, and it’s as if an elephant suddenly walked right into the room. “i’m just trying to live as normally as i can. we can’t let that guy–that thing–ruin our lives.”

you almost visibly recoil at his answer, furrowing your brows at him in something akin to disgust. “the rest of the party has to watch their back every time they step outside, and you’re trying to ‘live as normally as you can?’ there’s nothing normal about this!”

“you don’t even know what you’re talking about. you’re just being paranoid over nothing, you know that? ghostface only got to half of the party, he’s not anywhere near you. besides, it’s not like he’s doing anything illegal. it’s probably just some bored high schooler trying to creep us out.” he snaps back.

right. mike has a temper. he’s stubborn, headstrong, and always has to be right. god forbid he ever does anything wrong.

“how can you say that? these are our friends, mike. shouldn’t you care about them being scared to death?” you say with a scoff, knowing it’s useless to argue with him, but doing so anyway.

“oh, so because i’m not in a constant state of paranoia, i’m suddenly the worst friend in the world. right, right.” he says sarcastically, shaking his head. he looks at you like you’re the crazy one here.

a sigh slips past your lips, throwing your hands up in frustration. “that’s not what i said! you’re twisting my words. i know you’re a good friend, mike. i’m just saying your lack of urgency is a little concerning.”

mike takes a deep breath, like he’s trying to physically get rid of the tension in the room just by relaxing. he looks at you, and uncharacteristically, puts his hands up in surrender. his voice comes out lower and softer. calculated. “okay, you’re right. maybe i should show that i care more. but i also think you’re overreacting. i don’t think any real harm is actually going to come to them.”

you should know better by now than to ever expect a thorough admission of defeat from mike. but a “you’re right” followed by a conditional “but…” is probably the best you’ll get out of him.

“...maybe you’re right, i don’t know. i’m probably just worrying my head over nothing.” you concede, your legs swinging at the edge of the bed awkwardly, feet brushing the carpeted floor of his room below you.

“see? thank you.” he huffs out, just shaking his head and turning back to his desk, pulling out his campaign binder, just so he has something to do.

a comfortable, yet tense silence swallows the room, the only noise audible being the wind howling outside and the swishing of your socks against the carpet. your toe catches onto something under the bed, and curiously, you dig your foot back there to pull it out from its hiding place.

now, you should know better than to ever go searching under a college boy’s bed. just the thought of what could be hidden under there is enough to make you cringe and never want to be within six feet of a boy ever again. but you’re bored, and need something else to occupy your mind with that’s not mike’s half assed apology or if he can hear you breathing too loudly in the silent room.

there’s a bit of friction between the fabrics and the carpet, so you decide to just fling out the hunk of plastic from under mike’s bed. your heart skips a beat in the way you know can’t be good, your legs immediately stopping their motions as you look at the mask laying on the floor just a few feet in front of you.

you’ve never seen ghostface yourself, but the party’s descriptions of it were pretty detailed, with most of them being avid storytellers with extensive vocabularies. the elongated mouth and the droopy eyes contrasting against the stark white plastic of the face, standing out against the thin black fabric draped across the back, as if it’s coming out of the darkness.

you go through the first stage of grief pretty quickly. denying that this could actually be mike’s, that maybe it’s just a coincidence that it’s under his bed. maybe he found it on the street. maybe you’re in a dream. maybe your memory is wrong, and the mask doesn’t look anything like this.

“mike…?” you breathe out quietly, your hushed voice cutting through the silence.

he turns around in his chair, his gaze drifting from you to the mask lying on the floor. his already pale skin drains of any color it had left, and he quickly stands up from his seat, springing into action. he snatches the mask off the floor, holding it a little too naturally in his hands for your comfort. “it’s not what it looks like.”

“how can it not be what it looks like? what the fuck, mike? have you been ghostface the whole time?!” the next stage of grief, anger.

in hindsight, it should’ve been obvious. the weird questions were about horror movies that the party had all watched together the summer before going off to college. questions only he could come up with. the way it only seemed to be the party being terrorized by ghostface–mike–and no one else in town. the way he knew exactly where to stand so he was just far enough from everyone’s houses, but still close enough to be a threat. mike’s parents never cared about where he was at night, or what he was doing. it would be easy to slip in and out of the house unnoticed.

“no, no–listen, i know it looks really bad. i was just… uh… making a model of the mask based on the descriptions that the others gave us!” he blurts out, stumbling over his own words. “just in case, so that we’d all know what to look out for, you know? i was gonna show you guys, i swear.”

you don’t say anything, fighting with yourself. maybe you should burst out yelling and run out of this room right now and tell the nearest party member you can find. you look at him, jaw clenched in a mix of anger and fear and hurt.

“please, you have to believe me.” he says softly, in that same calculated tone from when he was apologizing to you.

he takes two steps until he’s sitting next to you, and your body subconsciously stiffens at his proximity. he sets the ghostface mask on the bed next to him, angling his body to shield it from your line of sight. without the mask in view, you have no choice but to look him in the eye.

“come on,” he mutters, barely above a whisper. “you’ve known me since we were kids. i would never do that–to anyone. much less the party, or you. everyone knows that.”

he gives you a look like he’s pleading with all his might for you to believe him, his deep brown eyes drilling a hole into yours. you swallow thickly, and his eyes briefly snap down to your throat as you do. it makes a chill run down your spine.

but mike could never do such a thing like that, right? mike wheeler, who always radios to make sure the party gets home safe. mike wheeler, who always makes sure there’s enough blankets for everyone during movie night. mike wheeler, whose dream is to become a fantasy novel author. mike wheeler, who used his generous monthly allowance to make sure the party could all play together at the arcade. he’d never stalk the party so ominously. even if he did, surely he would’ve stopped once he saw his friends freaking out.

“i don’t know, mike. i just don’t see why…” you mutter, trailing off as you look at him. on one hand, you can’t reconcile the image of the boy in front of you with a ruthless stalker. on the other hand, the mask is right there. bargaining.

“seriously, i’ll prove it to you.” he asserts, intentionally gently. like if he talks above a certain decibel, you won’t believe him, and the illusion will shatter.

he gets up from the bed, grabbing the mask the makes your heart pound in your chest just by looking at it. he walks over to the bin by his desk that’s used for trash, dropping the mask inside. it lands with a hollow thunk, hitting the bottom of the plastic bin that’s just recently been emptied.

he looks over at you, holding his now empty hands out. “see? no more.”

you know that technically doesn’t mean anything. logically, he can just pick it right back out of that empty trash can the second you leave.

but when you look at him, standing there so earnestly in front of you, looking as innocent as a sheep, with his curls all messed up and his sweater slightly faded from the years of wear… you can’t bring yourself to believe it. he could never.

slowly, you nod your head. once, twice, and a third time for good measure–convincing both yourself and him. depression and acceptance, all wrapped up in one convoluted feeling. “...okay. i believe you.”

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

after that day, the ghostface stalking stops happening. to the party, at least. you can’t prove it, but a sinking feeling in your stomach has you convinced it really was mike.

but there’s no reason to bring it up, when it seems like all the party wants to do is move on. no one has mentioned ghostface since the calls stopped happening, and the creepy masked figure stopped lurking on neighborhood streets. in fact, it seems like the shared trauma did nothing but draw all of you closer.

but sometimes, you still look at mike and wonder. could it really be him?

the mike who laughs as if everything in the world is okay, hosting the group sleepovers in his basement every time you guys are back from college. the mike who always has a new campaign ready for the party whenever they reunite, passionately and proudly retaining his role as dungeon master. why would he ever purposely do anything to scare the party? what would he stand to gain, except for a sick, twisted sense of enjoyment?

mike sometimes catches your eye from across the coffee table, where a box with half-finished pizza lays open surrounded by empty soda cans. he’ll flash you a small smile, as if reassuring you everything is okay–that HE is okay. like he knows of your everlasting suspicion without you ever needing to say anything. there’s a lingering unease comfort in knowing he’ll always be there to reassure you, if you ever did wish to bring it up.

he threw out the ghostface mask that day, he really did. straight into the trash outside without a second thought, driven off to be crushed in the landfill during next week’s trash collection. he had no use for it anymore. whenever he looked at it, all he saw was you, and the fear on your face as the mask laid at your feet.

well, that’s a lie. when you left, mike had pulled it out of the emptied trash bin, staring at it in his hands for at least a minute and a half.

he felt no remorse for what he did, however, because no one was really harmed. if anything, he was doing the party a favor—that first semester of college was rough for the entire party, navigating conflicting schedules and barely having time to catch up on life. after constantly living in the same town, seeing each other at school everyday, and being within radio distance, the distance and different lives hit them hard. there was a strange tension that first day back in the basement during thanksgiving break, one that nobody dared to address. so much had happened in just a few months, with new lifestyles, new friends, new hobbies.

mike was haunted by the feeling in the basement during the three weeks between thanksgiving break and winter break, his mind plagued with dreams of the party drifting apart forever. never speaking again, and watching each other’s lives go by in pictures, christmas cards, and happy birthday messages.

“Hey- are you okay, sweets? I know you were friends with Wendy,” your boyfriend asks, walking up to you and Haechan after being released from interrogation. 

“I wouldn't say friends, but still- it’s just crazy, like… how does this happen?” you ask, still in shock.

One of your sorority sisters, Wendy, was staying at her boyfriend's off-campus apartment and was found dead, both of them having been murdered. You aren’t sure about specific details or even what’s going on, but the cops came to the school and were interviewing everyone in the connected sorority and fraternity- the fraternity that your boyfriend happened to be a part of. You were both in shock at the news.

“Why the long faces?” Johnny jokes with a big smile, walking up with his arm wrapped around his girlfriend Jennie.

“God, Johnny, you dick. Wendy’s dead. You could at least pretend to be respectful-” Jennie chastised.

“Didn’t Wendy dump you for Joshua?” Haechan asks Johnny, sucking on a lollipop.

“What the fuck? I thought you dumped her for me,” Jennie screeches, slapping Johnny’s chest.

“I did, baby. I did- Haechan’s just talking shit-” he replies, glaring at Haechan.

“And did you tell the cops about your previous relations with the victim?” Haechan laughs, still trying to stir some shit up.

“If you have something to say, say it with your chest,” Johnny demands.

“Where were you last night?” Haechan smirks.

“He was with me,” Jennie says suggestively.

“All night?”

“All right. Haechan, fuck off- Johnny didn’t do it.” Jaehyun effectively stops the back and forth. Haechan shrugs and goes back to looking at all the commotion going on at both houses.

“What do we do now?” you mutter to yourself.

“The cops said we have to stick together, so that’s what we’ll do,” Jaehyun comforts.

Sticking together didn’t work very well, and you found yourself alone at the sorority house. Everyone was out studying or with their boyfriends. You’re scrolling on your phone when you get a call from an unknown number and against your better instinct, you answer.

“Hello?”

“Hello. Who is this?” you hear from the other end. It’s a male voice and one you don’t immediately recognize. It’s gruff and gravelly.

“Well, I was going to ask you that,” you say, sitting up in your bed, your mind running through all the possibilities on who it could be. It doesn’t make sense for Johnny to call because Jennie’s with him right now, and Jaehyun was still in class. It could be Haechan, but again, the voice doesn’t match.

“I’ll tell you my name if you tell me yours-” 

“I’m not giving you my name- you called me,” you scoff.

“I guess that’s right. Maybe I just want to talk,” he offers.

“I’m sure you can find someone else to talk to. Have a good night,” you hang up and lay back down on your bed only to immediately get another call.

“Hello?”

“Why did you hang up on me?” he says, almost sounding kind of aggressive.

“Well, I don’t know who you are,” you respond, stating the obvious.

“What’s your favorite scary movie?”

“Oh- Ha ha, Haechan. How funny. I like the sexy thing you’re doing with your voice- it’s really turning me on,” you tease.

“I’m not Haechan- answer the question. What’s your favorite scary movie?”

“I don’t know, Haechan- you know I don’t watch that shit.”

“Why not? Too scared?”

“No, it’s just- they’re all the same. Some big breasted girl always goes out in the open to investigate a noise while this loser man is obviously trying to lure her out to kill her. It’s honestly insulting.”

“Oh yeah? How do you think you’ll fare? What’ll you do when I try to lure you out to kill you?”

“What-” you freeze, and then you hear a noise downstairs.

“You heard me-” he replies as you stick your head out your bedroom door.

“Hello?” you shakily yell out into the house to see who’s there.

“Why would you say hello, sweets? Don’t you know that’s what every ‘big breasted girl’ calls out before the killer gets her?”

You make your way downstairs trying to figure out what that noise was since no one is supposed to be home. You are also still working under the assumption that this is Haechan playing a prank on you. 

“Haechan? Come out, come out wherever you are,” you say halfheartedly, still trying to joke despite the fact that you don’t want him to jump out and scare you.

“You’ll have to come and find me, sweets. And in case you haven’t realized it yet- this isn’t Haechan.”

You don’t see any movement, and no one has made themselves known, so none of your sorority sisters are here. You haven’t heard another noise, but just in case, you walk into the kitchen to grab a knife and find that they’re all gone. Now, you really start to panic, and the voice on the phone hasn’t said anything more but is still on the line.

You hear another noise coming from the bathroom at the end of the hallway and begin walking towards the noise as slowly as possible, tip-toeing to avoid making any noise.

“Hello?” you say in a voice just above a whisper. The killer jumps out from one of the bedroom doors behind you and tackles you to the floor. He tries to slam the knife into you but you grab a hold of his arms and try holding him off. He grabs your hair with his free hand and slams your head against the floor, making you feel disoriented for a second. You’re now vulnerable again, and he trails the knife across your cheek, nicking you slightly. He lifts his arms high to get as much momentum as possible to stab you when you suddenly kick him in the dick with all your might. He is obviously temporarily incapacitated and falls backwards, clutching his family jewels, giving you the opening to run up the stairs back to your room. 

As you run up, you dial 911 and quickly give them your address. 

“Please help me, he’s here- the killer’s here!” you go into the corner of your room and slide down the wall as the phone operator tries to make sure you’re okay. Ghostface bangs on the door and then suddenly, the banging stops. You stare at your door for what feels like hours, and then Jaehyun hops through your window. You, of course, scream bloody murder.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. What's wrong? Are you okay? What happened? You look like you’ve seen a ghost, sweetie-” he says, almost smiling. You panic. It feels like you’re going to pass out because why would he say that? It has to be him. He has to be the killer. It's too much of a coincidence for him to have been here at the same time as the killer and not see him. Details about the killer haven’t even been released yet, and he decides to use that turn of phrase? You’d rather be safe than sorry. 

“No. No, no, nonono,” you cry as you run back down the stairs, only to run into a police officer at the front door. 

“It’s Jeong Jaehyun! He’s the killer! Please! Help!!” you scream at the cop as he tries to calm you down. He escorts you outside as two more cops go in to arrest Jaehyun. Haechan heard the sirens and immediately rushed over, already waiting outside the sorority house. He holds you as the police officers take your boyfriend away. Jaehyun’s calling out your name as they put him in the back of the police car, begging you to believe him and to tell them that he didn’t do it. You turn into Haechan’s chest and try but fail to hold back your tears. 

To no one’s surprise, the frat immediately decides to throw a party to celebrate the capture of the killer, not caring that a member of their brotherhood was arrested. Any excuse to get absolutely obliterated on a school night. You, however, aren't in a party mood obviously, so you hang out with Haechan in his room instead.

“Oh my god, that psycho!” he yells, stomping around his room as you recount everything that just happened with Jaehyun. “I always knew he was a freak- I should’ve reported him when I was being interrogated-” He looks up to see that you’re still pretty shaken up and not interested in yelling about your boyfriend being arrested. He takes a seat next to you on the bed and pulls you into his arms. The action makes you start crying again, feeling so overwhelmed.

“It’s okay, sweets. It’ll all be okay-” he soothes and rubs your back softly. You look up at him, and before you know it, he’s kissing you. At first, you’re surprised, but it doesn’t take much time for you to give in and kiss him back. Then a smidgen of logic hits you and you pull back, but not very far, still letting your forehead rest against his. 

“Don’t.. say anything just yet… okay?” Haechan pleads, “I’d like the chance to talk about my feelings for you when you don’t have a boyfriend who’s in jail.”

“Okay,” you whisper, giving him a kiss on the cheek. 

The two of you get ready for bed, and you fall asleep cuddled up in Haechan’s arms while the party rages on downstairs. 

And while Jennie’s getting murdered down the road.

You wake up somewhat early the next morning and walk back to the sorority house. You know when you arrive that everyone will still be asleep and/or hungover from the night before. Thoughts of what to cook for the girls before their classes swirl in your mind when you walk up and see Jennie hanging from a tree in the front yard. You scream louder than you ever have before and fall to the floor in tears. Her body is covered in blood and she has been completely gutted, her insides falling out of her.

Jaehyun gets released a few hours later because it’s obviously not him seeing as Jennie was killed while he was in custody. You’re so distraught and you feel so awful and simultaneously responsible. If you hadn’t said it was Jaehyun,  the cops would have kept patrol cars in the area, the real killer could have been caught, and Jennie would still be alive. 

You also feel so guilty for ever thinking it could possibly be your sweet boyfriend who has never given you any reason to doubt him. You’re beating yourself up over it in your head when he stops you in the hallway.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” you respond, unable to meet his eyes.

“Oh my- don’t tell me you still think it’s me-” he says in disbelief. That makes you look up at him immediately.

“No! No, I don’t. I just- I feel so bad that I’m the reason you were suspected. I’m so sorry-” you blink up at him desperate for forgiveness.

“Let’s talk about this later, yeah? Come over after my last class tonight and we can talk then.”

He kisses you softly before you two part ways. 

You’re incredibly anxious, and you’ve been dreading this conversation since seeing Jaehyun earlier. Is he going to break up with you? You probably would if you were in his shoes. How do you date someone who so easily turns you into the police for a crime you didn’t commit? 

As you walk up, you see him already waiting for you outside. 

“Hey!”

“Hi.”

“Maybe we should move on from monosyllables,” he jokes, leading you inside, “No one’s home, so we can have our conversation without worrying about anyone else listening.” 

Once you get to his room, you feel the words bubbling up out of you like word vomit.

“I’m so sorry. I was panicking! And you just happened to be there at the perfect time- and I guess I just got sort of scrambled? I don’t actually believe that you could do something like that,” you promise. 

“I’m glad that you don’t think I could do that because I’m not sure that I’d like the idea you have of me in your little brain. You had me scared, baby. I thought that you didn’t trust me-” he says, wrapping his arms around your waist. He begins kissing you and slowly leads you over to the bed. He lays you down and starts kissing your neck, your body relaxing at his touch.

“You trust me, right, baby?” he asks, kissing the swell of your chest.

“You’re not gonna break up with me?” you ask through a sigh.

“Break up with you? No, pretty girl- I’m gonna keep you around,” he slides his hand under your shirt as he continues to kiss along your jaw and neck. Slowly, he peels your shirt off and ogles you as if it’s the first time he’s seen you. 

“You’re so pretty for me, sweets.” 

You squirm under his gaze and pull him back down so he can kiss you. He’s slow and deliberate and licks your bottom lip to ask for entry, which you immediately grant. His tongue massages yours as his hands move up to knead your breasts through your bra. He once again begins to trail down leaving kisses in his wake until he gets to your lower abdomen. His proximity to you means you can feel his breaths causing your back to involuntarily arch.

“Aw, baby, did you miss me?”

“Yes, Jae, please-” you whine, eyes closed. You’re already lost in subspace.

“Please what, sweets?”

“Please use me-”

He groans at your response and quickly rips your pants and undies off your body as you remove your bra, leaving you completely bare. The feeling of his breathing so close to your body continues to give you goosebumps. Despite your growing need, Jaehyun teases you and kisses your inner thighs getting closer to your heat, but he avoids it completely. He continues kissing just outside of the area where you need him, even leaving a wet kiss on your mound. 

He can tell you’re feeling restless, and he doesn’t want to be that mean. Deciding to be slightly nicer, he gently licks at your bud, and it only amplifies your desperation. It’s not nearly enough pressure, but you know that he has every right to fuck with you and you do not want to be punished. Unfortunately, your body starts involuntarily grinding against his face. Realizing just how needy you must be, he gives in and gives you what you want, sloppily eating you out, stimulating you in all the best ways. You feel his tongue everywhere and the way he licks your bundle of nerves is delicious. It doesn’t take long before you feel the cord in your stomach snap. You moan and try to squirm, but Jaehyun holds you down as he licks you through it. 

When you come back to earth, Jaehyun pulls back and looks at you with an unreadable look. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and asks, “Do you want me to fuck you, sweets?”,

You lazily nod.

“Words, baby,” Jaehyun says in a low voice.

“Yes, Jae- please fuck me,” you whine. That’s the confirmation he was looking for to line himself up with your entrance, and he slowly pushes in letting you adjust to him. 

“Jaeeeee,” you whimper, and he knows it’s his cue to start moving. Your boyfriend’s dick fills you up so nicely, and you’re so sensitive- the feeling of him already has you approaching your second high. Your legs are wrapped around him as he pounds into you, hands gripping your hips so hard you’re sure you’ll feel the bruises tomorrow. He can feel from the way you clench around him that you’re close again.

“Wow, sweets- you really needed me-” he smirks, and he starts rubbing your clit with his thumb to get you there faster. You close your eyes relishing in the feeling, getting closer and closer. But then you feel him stop moving. When you open your eyes, you see Ghostface holding up a knife to Jaehyun’s throat, and you scream, feeling like you’ve walked into a nightmare.

“Please- please, please, please don’t hurt us” Jaehyun begs, face pale and dick still inside of you. You forget how to breathe watching the scene unfold, and there’s a brief pause before the killer begins to remove his mask to reveal-

“Johnny?!” you scream. “But… but you killed Jennie? Why would you do that?”

“Because I can-” he responds using the voice changer with a smile so wide you’d swear it was the best day of his life. His expression is so contradictory to the macabre topic at hand, and you’re confused, so confused. Your brows furrow as you look from Jaehyun to Johnny. 

Suddenly, Johnny removes the knife from Jaehyun’s neck and your boyfriend’s fearful expression drops. As if the quick change in demeanor wasn’t shocking enough, he resumes fucking you again as if nothing had happened, leading you to feel even more disoriented. You can hear your heartbeat in your ears, and it actually feels like you might pass out. You’re also being fucked hard and you were already so close before Johnny came in, so that feeling is coming right back.

“I can’t believe you turned me in, baby- I thought we were stronger than that,” Jaehyun says, slamming into you, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. “Johnny was so gracious to help get me out, but- he didn’t do it out of the kindness in his heart. He wants something in return.” you stare up in horror at Jaehyun’s implication, rendered speechless.

“Don’t you wanna know what he wants?” Jaehyun grins.

“How about a hint?” Johnny says from his spot next to Jaehyun, “You know… I’ve always had a thing for you, Y/N-” 

You involuntarily clench at the confession. Fuck- why did you do that.

“Oh? Dirty girl. You want Johnny, sweets? You squeezed me sooooo fucking tight just now,” Jaehyun teases.

You whine at his words and feel so conflicted. Turning your head away, you close your eyes and try to focus on anything but how good Jaehyun feels inside you right now. Johnny makes his way to your side and lightly drags the knife across your skin, tracing from your jaw down to your neck and chest. 

“Do you want me, baby?” Johnny asks, knife pressed against the base of your throat. Yes. No. Fuck! 

They're murderers! They killed your friend, and they might kill you when they’re done with you! 

(But you’ve never felt so turned on in your life.)

You nod shyly, avoiding eye contact with Johnny.

“Say it baby. Say that you want my loser killer dick inside of you-” Johnny orders, using your previous words against you, grabbing your chin to force you to look at him. He really is so pretty even with that deranged look in his eyes. 

“I want you inside of me, Johnny. Please!” you whimper, your face heating up at the embarrassment you feel at being turned on right now.

“That’s what I like to hear.”

The two deviants reposition you so you’re on your hands and knees as a naked Johnny gets situated against the headboard. He’s so big and thick, definitely bigger than Jaehyun, and your mouth waters as you gaze upon what you’re working with. 

“Already cockdrunk, sweets?” Johnny smirks at your reaction to him, “I haven’t even touched you yet and you’re drooling-”

You lower yourself to a comfortable position and look up at Johnny as you lick a stripe from base to tip making him groan. 

“Fuck, baby- don’t tease me,” he growls, his hand moving to your head to ground himself. 

And so you don’t tease. You decide to give it your all, but his dick is way too big for you to suck him off the same way you do for Jaehyun. You start with the head, but the second that you put the tip in your mouth, Jaehyun starts fucking you again and much harder this time. You think he must be turned on by watching you suck off Johnny, and you tighten around him at the thought. You begin bobbing your head on Johnny’s cock (or at least what you can fit in your mouth), and you moan and whine as Jaehyun continues to brutally fuck into you. 

“Fuck, look at you-” Johnny groans, “Your boyfriend and your boyfriend’s best friend killed people and you’re letting them fuck you.” 

You’ve been holding back your orgasm for so long, and Johnny’s words are enough to launch you into it. You pull off of his cock and you feel your orgasm wash over you, your moans filling the room. It’s so intense and you’re gripping onto Jaehyun’s dick so tightly that you rip his orgasm out of him, forcing him to cum deep in your hole. 

“Fuck- did you just cum because Johnny reminded you that we’re killers? Shit, sweets, you’re just as fucked up as we are,” Jaehyun says moaning and groaning as he keeps shooting cum deep into your pussy. He fucks you to the point of overstimulating the both of you until he genuinely can’t take it anymore. He stills but stays buried in you, trying to recover, throwing his head back and catching his breath. You then come to the realization that he has never fucked you unprotected before, and he has definitely never finished inside you. 

“Fuck, baby- you can’t squeeze me like that,” he croaks, his eyes squeezing shut. 

“Alright, get out of the way, Jeong- it’s my turn.”

“Alright, asshole, relax!” Jaehyun snaps, pulling out of you and hissing at the feeling.

Johnny slides into the empty space that Jaehyun leaves, flips you over, and says, “Alright, perfect. I want you to see who’s fucking you this good, okay, sweetie?” 

He pushes into your entrance and stretches you out way more than Jaehyun’s dick did but he does not give you the same amount of time to adjust and instead immediately starts driving his cock into you hard and fast. 

“Fuuuuuuck, sweets. This is everything I've dreamed of. Do you know how long I had to watch you from afar and deal with all these fucking bitches? I could give a shit about Jennie or Wendy or any of these other girls. Shit- how could I pay attention to any of them when this sweet pot of honey was right here waiting for me?”

Your pussy flutters at the compliment and Johnny chuckles. 

“Damn, you got so tight around me, baby. Do you like hearing about how we killed for you? Got rid of Wendy and fuckass Joshua for you. I know Wendy was a huge bitch to you, and Joshua spread your nudes around so obviously we had to get rid of them.” 

You’re shocked at the fact that they killed for you, shocked that they even know these things since it wasn’t very well known that Wendy was consistently trying to ruin your life. The Joshua thing is more public given the nature, but it happened years ago. 

“And Jennie? You know, Jennie wouldn’t have had to die if it wasn’t for you telling the cops to arrest Jae and her being so easy to get rid of. Honestly, don’t feel so bad- we probably would have killed her anyway, but it wasn’t part of our grand plan,” he monologues over your moans while sharply bucking into you. All of it is too much- his words, the fact that Johnny is inside of you and Jaehyun is watching, how sensitive you are from the last 2 orgasms.

“Johnny- please. I’m gonna-”

He wraps a hand around your throat and pounds his length into you harder and faster than you thought was humanly possible. The combination of the pressure on your pulse and the strength with which Johnny is pounding into you sends you toppling over and you convulse under the large man. You feel the pleasure pulsing and radiating in a way you’ve never felt, experiencing absolute ecstasy. Johnny fucks you through your high and shoots his release into you, shuddering at the feeling of your gummy walls milking him for all he’s worth. 

“Oh my god, angel-” Johnny starts.

“Johnny’s dick made you squirt-” Jaehyun finishes in awe.

You’re laying on Jaehyun’s bed absolutely spent, their words hardly registering in your brain. You feel someone cleaning you up and you shiver. It feels like you’ve been fucked within an inch of your life, but you suppose the fear of being killed in the middle of sex will do that to you. You begin drifting off to sleep when you hear-

“I can’t believe you fuckers started without me-”

“We’re changing the ending, Haechan. That pussy is too good to waste.”

divider^ by @/strangergraphics (perfect for this fic thx so much!!!)

your phone rings right next to you as you’re lolling off, head snapping up as you hear the familiar ringtone. It was sitting on the floor face down, buzzing loudly as you reached out to grab it groggily.

It was pitch black inside your shared house, the bright screen of your tv lighting up the room again, flickering through different scenes of a movie you had long since tuned out.

you turned on the screen.

1:05 am. 7 missed calls.

the phone rings again, with the same number flashing.

caller id unknown.

you hesitate. the sound is a lot louder than the humming of the house, the shrill ring drowning out all other noise. your thumb hovers over the screen, hesitant.

then you answer.

“not smart of you to answer any number just like that, princess.”

a heavily modulated voice crackled through. your stomach twists with that same dread, but you already know who it is.

“Ghost…face?”

“though you liked calling me woo? what happened to that one, huh?”

you were silent, brain trying to work out what he’d said before his voice crackled over the call again.

“don’t just ignore me princess. ‘s not a good look, y’know? don’t wanna be begging for your attention like this.”

“not tonight.” you rasp, voice quivering as you push yourself up from the couch.

there’s a low hum on the other end, breathing distorted by the modulator. 

then a soft laugh, one that sounds almost entertained. It doesn’t send chills up your spine like it did at first, but it still makes you uneasy.

“you always say that,” he muttered. “all the damn time. never stopped me though, has it?”

“I really can’t. please woo.” you beg softly,cycling through a million different emotions as the sleep gave way to panic. you’d been tested enough today.

he hums in response again, and things go silent. for a moment, you almost think the phone has dropped, and you droop to the rhythm of the house again.

“you really are too easy.”

“what?” you jolt up. you aren’t sure you’ve heard him right. 

It's on par for what he usually says, but it doesn’t stop the sinking feeling. you’d already had a bad day, and his words felt like another punch to the gut.

“you never tell me no, like you really mean it baby. you make it easier than you pretend it is. we all know what you want right now.”

you swallow, lip trembling. “but I… I don’t want to, please woo.”

there’s a long silence as you try to choke back exhaustion, shivering.

you can hear him exhale through the phone, as if trying to not let his annoyance show. great. now you’ve pissed off the dude who’s been killing people on campus. maybe he’ll finish you today too after he’s done fucking you.

“rough day?”

you swallow, your lack of response earning a groan from him.

“don’t lie to me princess. you know I don't like liars, and I can hear it in your pretty little voice. sounds like you’ve had a long day and now you’re all alone, aren’t ya? friends left for another party, didn’t they?”

each question was another crack in your walls. his words were like salt in your wounds. 

you didn’t want to admit that he was right. you were alone, it was late, and all you wanted was to sleep off the stress.

hee spoke again, an eerie tenderness creeping into his voice as if trying to tempt you. “I could make it better… just for tonight. you’re so good at making me feel wanted, baby doll. let me take care of you, yeah? can you let me do that?”

the modulator does little to hide his malice, even despite the tenderness of words. you can almost feel his breath against your ear, almost as if he was right there, crouched beside you.

you just wanted him to call it what it was. but you also didn’t want him to leave, the foolish part of you.

almost as if sensing your panic, he spoke again.

“aright, I’ll let you sleep then.”

you almost let out a sigh of relief, until he spoke again.

“but before you do anything, check the windows princess.”

you freeze. the line continues to crackle. your breath catches.

“humor me. just wanna make sure you’re safe before you go to bed. can’t let just anyone in, right?”

it was deeply ironic for wooyoung to say that, considering your first meeting.

nevertheless, you oblige. you take a couple of cautious steps towards the window in the living room, pushing the curtains back. there was nothing except for the neighbors cars and a cat squatting near one of the lawns.

“there’s nothing there…” you whispered to a silent phone, trying to stay calm. 

“see? then you’ve got nothing to be afraid of now. check the kitchen now, baby doll.” the modulator crackled again, and you could hear the amusement in his voice.

you warily edged towards the kitchen, palms slick with sweat. the window in the kitchen was too small to get through, but you still pushed back the tiny curtains, checking the locks before you stepped away.

“attagirl.” you jumped a mile, holding the phone away from your ear. “turn around, baby doll.”

you didn’t. you’d froze in place, breathing heavily as you stood extremely still. maybe if you didn’t move he couldn’t see you.

“c’mon,” he coaxed softly, “just look. what could be the harm, princess?”

you turned, and you almost could’ve cried from the stress. there was nothing there.

“wooyoung…” your voice cracked, “stop.”

“stop? I’m not even touching you right now princess.”

you swallow a curse, heat causing you to flush. “not funny.”

“never said I was, did I?” He paused, then lazily drawled out: “the bedroom, baby doll. then I'll leave you alone, okay?”

you don’t answer. all of this is insane. you should just call the police, tell them everything you did, hopefully get locked up for years for playing along, but you listen. 

fear and exhaustion are driving you, the hallway stretching as you walk past the darkened living room. wou paused.

The apartment had become eerily quiet. You raised the phone closer to your ear, shaking slightly.

“why’d you stop walking?” wooyoung’s voice is low, sing-songy in a teasing way that made your stomach knot. “don’t tell me you’re scared now, princess. you were doing so well.”

you glanced toward the dark living room again. 

something about it felt wrong now. “this isn’t funny.”

“just the bedroom. i’ll even stay on the line if it makes you feel better. you like when I’m with you, don’t you?” his voice softens, almost affectionate. 

you hate how it made your skin crawl. you hate how it made you want to say yes.

you didn’t respond to him though. 

instead, you inched towards your room, pushing the door wide open. it was the same as you’d left it, light filtering through the curtains. 

There was a slight chill in the air, and you weren’t sure if it was your impending dread or the room itself.

you approached the windows cautiously, and checked the locks. they were still closed, latches done the way you’d left them when you’d closed them this morning.

“they’re locked.” you whispered, voice cracking with relief.

a long pause.

 “that’s my good girl,” wooyoung murmured, voice syrupy thick through the modulator. “you make me so proud when you listen, but baby, you made such a silly mistake.”

your heart skipped a beat, throat drying up. 

“you forgot to check the window of your roomates room. my girl isn't a very good listener, isn't she? you make such silly mistakes.”

you pulse spiked. You couldn’t even force his name out of your mouth, let alone scream about it being fair.

the floorboard creaked again, right outside your door.

you made a split second decision, dropping your phone and wriggling in the space under your bed. 

you were pressed up against cold wooden flooring, not even breathing as you watched his shoes cross the threshold into your room. 

“where’d you go, baby doll?” he asks, feigning confusion, but you know he’s not fooled. “you’re not hiding from me, are you?”

you can hear him, slow, deliberately pretending to search the room.

"let’s check the closet now, yeah?” he paused for a moment. 

“you know, it’d be a lot easier if you just came out on your own," he said, voice thick with false sweetness. "but I get it. You’re scared."

the closet door screeches as he opens it, then closes it. he was being too theatrical.

“no one here. You know I don’t like playing hide and seek, princess.”

you’re hoping he thought you ran out of the house like some headless chicken. his footsteps turn, and for a moment, you think he’s headed for the door. 

but he paused.

your blood started roaring in your ears as he gets closer to the bed. you were barely holding back from making noise, shaking as you bit down on your hand.

“god, baby doll, I know you’re here. Come on. no need to hide. you’re making this harder on yourself.”

you don’t respond, rather foolishly. with him it was always games, and you were lucky to survive the first time.

“did you really think I wouldn't look here brat? I know you’re under there. I gave you a chance to come out on your own, but you didn’t listen.” he clicks his tongue, exhaling as if he was disappointed in your choice.

before you could say or do anything, a gloved hand grabbed your ankle, pulling you out. 

you panic. the scream was more one of shock rather than fear, and he muffled that as well by pressing a hand to your mouth while another pinned your flailing hands.

you even catch something glinting in his belt, causing you to panic even harder.

“ah ah, no screaming.” he warned, scanning your face up and down with a predatory lilt. “god you shoulda seen your face. didn’t mean to make you cry so hard baby doll.”

you weren’t even aware that you were crying, tasting the salt as he rubbed away a stray tear. The air felt too thick as you sobbed, despite how quiet you were trying to be.

he noticed.

“breathe, baby doll,” he grumbles, slowly releasing his grip on your wrists. “you’re shaking so bad you’ll pass out if you keep it up.”

You try pushing yourself away but he tuts, picking you up easily and pulling you towards him even despite you weak struggling. “don’t make me hold you down again. you don’t belong even down there. you’re jus’ gonna make yourself dizzy if you try.” 

you’re still struggling to breathe as he moves you effortlessly, lifting you and setting you onto the bed like it's nothing. You don’t even protest him as he slots himself in between your legs, hunched over you.

“stay still.” he mutters. you freeze up, but shaking gets worse and in the next moment, you’re quietly gasping for air again.

he notices it almost instantly.

“Breathe, princess,” he groans, reaching out to brush the hair out of your face. “You’re making yourself sick. don’t want that mess all over me.”

the two black eyeholes of the mask do little to comfort you. they feel like they’re looking through you, soulless.

“Easy.. attagirl.” The words are slow, like he’s trying to teach you how to calm down. “Breath in and out f’me yeah? You’re okay baby doll. You just forgot to listen all the way, that’s all there is to it.”

something about his tone raised your hackles, but you don’t fight it, letting him have his way with you was easier. 

“there we go,” he says quietly as you return to breathing normal, tears drying on your face. “see how easy that was?”

you don’t respond, even though wooyoung can see you staring at him. you look empty, like something broke the light behind your eyes.

He tilted his head slightly.

“You don’t like it at all, huh?” his tone full of mockery and amusement. “can’t decide if you hate it or if it scares you shitless. sure as hell makes you feel small though.”

you still keep your mouth shut, shuddering at the thought of what he could do in a moment.

he dipped his head, humming something familiar under his breath. “You’ve been good. Didn’t try to scratch my eyes out or scream bloody murderer like last time. That’s progress.”

he paused for a moment, hand drumming against your thigh as if counting something. “I think you deserve something for that, right?”

you look at him warily, throat tightening at his suggestion.

he noticed that too. “relax,” he huffed, his tone sharp and sarcastic, even offended if you listened carefully enough. “I’m not going to use you like that. congrats, you get to breathe now. that’s your reward.”

you can’t stop staring at him though, trying to piece together who he might be in your brain.

“what?” he asked quietly, the mockery creeping back into his voice. “getting manhandled wasn’t good enough for you? you really wanna see what’s under it that bad?”

you don’t answer, but your gaze didn’t move either, fixated on the sockets of the mask. That was all the answer he needed.

he let out a soft laugh, but it's humorless. 

“figures. you can’t ever seem to say what you really want.” he tilts his head, studying you for a moment longer. “Still, I guess you earned it.”

for a moment you think he’s gonna do it himself, but his hand stops and instead redirects to you. he grabs one of your hands, showing you the edge of the mask. It’s cloth, loose against the nape of his neck.

“go on then,” he coaxed. “you wanted it so bad, right? Then do it.”

you don’t go for it immediately, only clutching the fabric in between your hands and he lets out a frustrated little laugh. “are you so dumb you need me to do this for you too, baby doll?”

you quickly slide your hands underneath the fabric, lifting the mask with shaking hands. 

you almost dropped it right back on yourself when you saw his face.

uneven eyes stared right back at you, liquid black with a manic look in them. his nose is almost deliciously prominent, pink lips bitten raw. 

blonde hair is stuck to his forehead, and there is a small scar over his eyebrow you care not to ask about. he looks too boyish, too normal. you shudder.

His lips curl slightly. You notice him shaking slightly, breathing shallow as if he was holding something back.

“Ah. You’re still scared.” His voice was rough even without the modulator. “Guess you didn’t expect your monster to look so pretty, did ya?”

he studied your face for another beat, “careful, baby doll. keep looking at me like that, and I’ll start thinking you’re not scared anymore.”

you swallow as his palm cups your cheek. he’s turning your head sideways, eyes finding their way to your shoulder. you can even see him debating it for a moment, but he lets it go, eyes finding yours again.

“tell me,” he whispered, leaning in closer, breath warm on your face. “what do you want from me?”

he waited for you to say something, but your voice seems to have lost itself, letting out a shaky breath as you screw your eyes shut.

everything is too loud. you can hear your heart hammering in your chest.

“you’re done, huh?” he mutters, more to himself than you. You feel him shift between your legs, his hand sliding from your cheek to the side of your neck to press down on your pulse point. 

“but you’re still alive,” he crooned, sounding pleased with himself. “kicking it too.” 

he leaned into you, and before your fogged brain can process it, his lips brush your temple. Then your cheek. Then the corner of your mouth, pressing a bit harder there before he let up. It’s gentle, terrifyingly so compared to how he’d acted minutes before.

“sleep, baby doll,” he murmurs. “you’ve got no fight left in you to give me anyways.”

the mattress shifts, and he leaves from your grip, much to your chagrin. but you don’t fight it. you’re too tired.

“next time,” he says quietly, from somewhere in your room, “try not to make me wait so long.”

Then silence.