The familiar sensation of the sun's rays shone over my closed eyes, and I hid my face under my arm as I began to wake up. I groaned, having been comfortable, not wanting to have to start the day. When my eyes finally opened, I realized I was back in my own bed. I sat up and looked around my room. It was just me in my bedroom. I rubbed my temple in confusion. That hadn't been a dream last night, had it? I felt my neck. It did infact feel a bit sore, but could that be more of a placebo effect from a dream? Or did it all really happen? Waking up in my own room was disorienting, considering I remembered falling asleep in Ghostface's arms. I thought about the events that took place, and my hands covered my face as I sighed. I hoped it really was just all a dream as I felt both embarrassed and guilty for getting caught going through his things. It wasn't necessarily that he was hiding things from me, after all I knew he was a killer, but it was distressing in a way to learn about his...interesting hobby. I guess all serial killers had something like that though. Most renoun ones did.
I climbed out of bed and walked over to my closet, looking through my clothes for a comfy cardigan to throw on. It was chilly this morning, as fall had began to creep in. I looked at the calendar hanging over my desk. It was mid October now. How appropriate I thought, to have a killer move in right around the "spooky season." I chuckled a bit at the thought. As my arms went through the sleeves of the cardigan, I recalled I had work at the library today. I groaned as I leaned my head back in protest at the thought of it. I wasn't sure why I acted in such a way about my job. I actually did like working at the library quite a bit. It was simple, busy work, and I often found interesting new reads while I made my rounds through the aisles, sorting through the manifold of books. I also enjoyed listening in on other's gossip. I wasn't sure why so many people thought the library of all places was the place to gossip, but it was always interesting none the less.
I put my hair up loosely, and began to creep out of my doorway. I looked to Ghostface's door. It was closed. I felt my face slump into a frown at the thought of seeing him now. Like a little child not wanting to face their parents after doing something wrong. Suddenly the air filled with scents of bacon. My stomach growled at the delicious aroma, and I began to gradually make my way down stairs into the kitchen. I stared a little wide eyed at Ghostface, cooking bacon and eggs in the kitchen. As he turned to move food from the pan to two plates, he glanced at me with a smile, and said,
"Good morning. Are you hungry?" I didn't have much of anything to say. I nodded slightly as I wiped the last of the drowsiness from my eyes and made my way to the table. Sitting down, I saw my pack of cigarettes. I reached for it and pulled one out, as well as my lighter I tucked into the box whenever it was half full enough to fit it inside. Ghostface came over, placed the plates on the table, one beside me and one by the other chair, for himself. Then placed forks and napkins as well. I muttered a simple, "thank you."
"Did you sleep well last night?" He said sipping a cup of coffee. My face reddened a bit and my shoulders slumped as I put the cigarette in my mouth, trying to avoid having to say anything. I only nodded again as I lit the end, and inhaled the noxious fumes. He smiled the way he always did, and pulled a newspaper from the side of the table over to himself. Wait. Newspaper? I looked over in confusion. I didn't read the newspaper, so where did that one come from? I watched him smile as he read something in a passage on the paper. I continued to stare confusedly. He looked up from the article momentarily at me and plainly said, "Latest article." Then sipped his coffee as he went back to it. I ate the breakfast Ghostface had prepared. I couldn't remember how long it had been since I had such a filling breakfast. I often thought of breakfast as a simple inconvenience, and would generally just stuff toast in my mouth in the morning and be on my way. If this was what breakfasts would be like now, I would certainly make more room for them in my routine. As I finished the final slice of bacon I had saved for last, I leaned back in my chair, and looked out the window. I was reaching for my cig from the ashtray when Ghostface spoke up.
"You have work today?" I nodded again, this time accompanied by me saying, "Yup." He placed the newspaper down, then shifted to lean on both of his arms with his chin resting on the back of his hands. The position immediately made me think of the first day we actually met. He sat in the same manner he had done so in the interview. Stern yet alluring. Confident and impactful as he stared. I averted my gaze out the window. The blinds had been drawn open again, probably by Ghostface this morning. I'm not sure why, but I felt the need in the moment to bring up the occurrences of the night before. It felt like he was staring at me to simply get me to go first in mentioning it.
I cleared my throat.
"So...last night wasn't a dream right?" I immediately regretted my choice of words, feeling dumb to imply it was a dream, but at th same time...what if it had been? He laughed slightly as his chin shifted from above his hands to below, hiding his smirk behind them. I felt like I was sweating with nervousness.
"What?" I asked. "You think it was a dream?" He snickered. I felt annoyed, and explained, "Well, I woke up in my bed this morning, but I remmber falling asleep in yours!" He continued to smile, seemingly holding back laughter. "I was tired, so I didn't feel like going to your room."
"My room?" I asked. "You said last night you didn't want to be alone. So instead of bringing you to your room, I just let you stay in mine. I moved you back to yours after I woke up this morning." He recapped.
I slumped a bit again in my chair,and leaned on my own arm with my hand over my face. I felt absurdly dumb now for thinking it was a dream. I shifted to leaned my head into my palm, and kept my eyes averted from his as I asked reluctantly,
"...should we talk about what happened?" He looked at me with a very basic expression as if he was completely unfazed. "You...seemed pretty upset with me for looking at your... photographs. Are you still mad at me?" I asked. He smiled as he exhaled slightly and said, "No, I'm not mad anymore."
Anymore. He had been mad at me. I felt my mood down at the thought of having upset him. I took a drag off my cigarette quietly, and stared absent-mindedly out the window.
"What did you think of them?"
His question took a moment for me to process. "I don't know..." I said in a low voice as I put out the cigarette in the ashtray.
"I know that's just what you do. But I guess sometimes it's easy to forget, or to not think about what it really means to be a killer. Seeing those photographs made it real for me." I said in a monotone voice, as I tried to consider my words while I thought.
"Did you dislike them?" He asked.
I paused, and for whatever reason was unsure as to what to say. How did I really feel about the photographs? Did they upset me? Most would be mortified by the idea of their significant other being a cold blooded killer. I thought back to how I considered my feelings towards serial killers before, to simply be described by the word admired. Of course I had never been face to face with killers until my encounters with Ghostface, so it had never been based off of reality. More so fabricated thoughts on the subject.
I had no idea how long I had been sitting there thinking, but somehow a simple word slipped quietly from my lips, at first without my realizing. "Facisnating."
When I carelessly glanced over at him and saw his somewhat surprised expression, I realized I had spoken out loud. I felt the tumble of anxiety stuttering words coming on. "I-I uh- I gotta get ready for work."
I hoisted myself quickly from the chair and with my pathetic save, darted for the stairs. I hadn't heard Ghostface at all behind me, and suddenly he was blocking my pathway up the stairs.
"(Y/n)." He softly spoke my name.
I felt nervous, not of his actions in the current, but concerned of his reaction towards my choice of word. I looked down at the hardwood flooring below us. I felt his fingers softly drape under my chin, and lift my head so I was staring into his cerulean blue eyes.
"I think I really like that answer." He said huskily, I felt his smile against my lips as he began to press into me. His arm wrapped around my waist, and he pulled me in, deepening the kiss. I didn't fight this but rather felt as though I was melting in his grasp. His fingers laced through the hair on the back of my head, and he allowed my arms to wrap around his neck. He pushed me against the wall in the hallway. I felt his groin press against the crevice between my legs. He continued to kiss me as though he was starving for attention, and his hips began to grind into mine. With the friction came heat, with the heat came moans, and with the moans came moisture and lust. His grinding grew heavier, and rougher, and I moaned into his mouth. He had lifted me from the floor and pinned me against the wall by my legs, to have better access to press his clothed length against my core. I began to quiver with the growing excitement, and I clung to his shirt as he moved. Slowly his pace began to lessen. I felt disappointment as he gradually let me fall upon my feet once more. He pressed his face into the nook of my neck, and rasped into my nape, "Fuck..."
I blushed and felt surprised at the simple word that escaped his lips. He then suddenly but gently grabbed my wrist, and guided my hand over his clothed crotch.
"Touch me." He whispered in my ear.
My hand flinched slightly, but remained upon his length. I was certainly no expert on male anatomy but it felt long and thick. My face had the burning sensation to it again. My hand remained in place, and I stuttered out an apology.
"I don't know what I'm doing..." I stammered softly, embarrassed.
"It's okay. Here. Let me help you." He said sensually. I tried not to look as I heard the sound of a button popping, and a zipper, then heard the sound of shifting cloth. He gently grasped my hand and guided it up and down his shaft that remained covered only by his briefs. His husk breaths released small moans as he continued guiding me to stroke. I began to grow extremely aroused myself. He guided my fingers to rise to his clothed tip and squeezed my hand slightly, intern putting pressure on the sensitive cap. I felt moisture through the cloth a bit, as his arousal grew. He leaned against me in a way where my chin rested on his shoulder while he burried his face into my neck. He released my hand again momentarily and I heard the stretch of his waistband against his skin. He gently guided my hand back and it met something warm and soft. My face burned, but I was excited. Gradually he eased on his guiding, and I took control of the movement, trying to be gentle as I pumped.
"It's okay." He huffed hotly into my neck.
"You can be rougher with it."
I nodded quietly as I began to firm my grasp. It felt good to hear his moans for once. He wasn't holding back as much as he usually did, and I felt prideful to have taken the lead in a dominant factor. I began to quicken my pace, squeezing as my hand drew up, and easing as it went back down. His moans grew slightly louder as I continued, and I couldn't help but smile slyly as he seemed to be thoroughly enjoying my touch. He leaned passed me, into the wall with his arm supporting him. His hand held gently on my arm performing the action.
"Don't stop." He requested, breathing heavily. Suddenly his hand moved from my arm and grabbed my womanhood firmly. I squealed in delight to the sensation, as I had been building in my own arousal. I suppose my high pitch moan was enough to send him over the edge as I felt hot liquid shoot up onto my torso and drip down my hand. He panted heavily, while he leaned into me for support. I felt extremely prideful in that moment. I had just gotten my killer off.
1 v 1, I thought while smirking slightly.
When he pulled away and his satisfied expression met mine, my smile grew bashful. I started to doubt myself slightly as he continued to eye me. As I began to open my mouth to ask if I had done well for him, he quickly re-closed the gap between us. Kissing me with his soft lips. When he pulled away again he said,
"I'll have to give you a reward for that kind of behavior when you come home tonight." I blushed madly at his words. Without thinking, I went to attempt to cover my face with my hands, forgetting his substance still remained on one of them. I instantly drew them back but it was too late as I had already left some of the liquid upon my face. The embarrassment felt excruciating in the moment. For whatever reason I looked up, waiting for his reaction. In my utter shock, for once I saw a slight blush on his face.
The Ghostface was blushing. Imagine that. I didn't think I could ever break his over bounding confidence, and unfazed demeanor. He seemed to realize after a moment how his composure was no longer dominant. He lifted his hand momentarily to cover his face as he turned to look away. His pinkened cheeks made my heart flutter.
"You have some...on your face." He stated. I quickly ran to the bathroom after. Looking in the mirror I truly did have the man's ejaculation upon my cheeks. I made distressed noises and frantically looked around the bathroom, not sure as to what to use to clean it off. This was turning out to be a very interesting morning.
Ghostface came in behind me, and I tried not to look at him directly. Though when I did glance, his cheeks still had a faint pink to them. He grabbed a wash cloth from the side of the sink, and ran warm water over it. Then he turned to me and gestured for me to come closer to him. "Come here." He said softly. He lifted my face by my chin and gently cleaned away the lewd residue. Both our faces were flustered now. Mine far more so than his. He rinsed the cloth, then returned it to my skin, this time on my hand. He was extremely gentle as he wiped the cloth between each of my nimble fingers. I realized he was smiling in a sheepish way once I looked up.
"Sorry about that." He said softly.
"N-no it's fine. It's my fault, I wasn't thinking." I stuttered out. He laughed slightly. He moved the cloth back to the sink, washed it with soap, then hung it to dry on the towel rack. He turned back to me and delicately took both my hands, rising them to his face. He kissed both my hands gently and it felt as though my heart performed a skipped beat. He smiled at me warmly.
Once more, I'm not sure why I do these things, or allow words to slip so easily, but I spoke regardless. "I'm sorry." I said softly.
"For what?" He looked at me puzzled with a little concern showing in his expression.
"I shouldn't have gone through your things. I was just curious. I didn't mean to make you mad." His smile returned, and he moved forward, giving me a peck on the forehead.
"Don't worry about that. I'm not mad. I shouldn't be hiding things like that from you." I was surprised by his suggestion.
"It's okay. It's not something you probably can share easily, and I shouldn't pry."
He ever so delicately pressed just the tip of his nose to my own.
"I wanna make this work though. I like that you trust me, even though I'm like this...and I want it to stay that way."
I was emotionally washed over with happiness at his words, and this time I drew him in for a kiss. He accepted my action, and we softly kissed one another. He smiled into my lips, and chuckled a bit.
"What?" I asked curiously.
"You're gonna be late, babe."
YOU ARE READING
Upon the Gaze (Ghostface X Reader 18+)
Fanfiction(Ghostface X Depressed Female Reader) Premise: A young women has recently moved into a new home that her late grandfather passed onto her. Between her loneliness, anxiety disorder and depression, she finds her one way to cope is by researching and...
