You wish this was you, huh? ( slasher headcanons & oneshots )

Inner Scar - Ghostface angst to smut

*°☆Yet another anonymous Ghostface chapter. I might start using more pictures and gifs in chapters cuz omfg I want what these mfs above have☆°*

You sit at the edge of your bed, Ghostface hovering above you as you drag your fingers down his bare stomach, feeling every muscle on his naked torso as he still wore his hood and mask. His body was covered in small cuts and scars, yet Your fingers ran across the bigger one near his middle right ab, feeling the texture of the healed skin.

"What happened? Did one of your victims do this?" You ask him, your thumb rubbing over the significantly large scar. "I did that..." he told you, looking down as you caressed him. "....What?" The answer definitely caught you off guard.

He had always dealt with strong-willed victims in the past, which landed him in some pretty wild fights, eventually ending in the victim's demise. Ghostface typically walked out with a cut or a few bruises, which is why the big one caught your attention. You'd never expected him to do it to himself.

"Why?" You asked, looking up at him. "Because..... I was sick of it. What I do is my passion, but I was sick of the feeling of uselessness. I mean, deep down, I'm just some demented horror geek in a weird ghost mask who kills people for attention and thrill. What purpose do I really serve, you know?" You looked up at him in awe.

"When I was little, my dad always thought I was weird. I had this huge fascination with black cats and witches and demons, and all that spooky shit. Halloween was my favorite holiday, cause I could finally dress up and be this scary monster that people were afraid of and looked up to." You dragged your fingers down to the rim of his black pants.

"Go on..." you whispered, unzipping his pants. He smirked under his mask. "My dad hated me. Always saying I was never gonna grow up to be anything great if I didn't have any normal interests, like baseball or football. He always dreamed of having an athlete for a son. I hated athletes growing up. You won't believe how much they used to bully me when I was little." He vented as you caressed his balls through the underwear.

"Let me guess, the stereotypical jocks were after you?" You teased him as you looked into the eyes of the mask. He let out a groany chuckle. "Yeah. You know, the only one person that ever really loved me was my mother. She was the one who excepted me the most. We were like Jason and Mrs. Voorhees. I guess that's where my love for horror movies came from." He patted your head as you fondled him through his boxers.

".....I just felt so useless. It's like... I'm nothing without the mask. If I'd never killed Casey Becker that night, I'd still be the same lame scary movie nerd with no real hobbies." His voice saddened, no longer cocky or confident. "Look at me," You stood up, getting close to him.

"Who's the one planned Casey's murder? The one who stalked her and learned everything about her to create the perfect crime? Who's the one who's evaded the police for the past year now?" "...I am." He answered you.

"And Who's the one who works out and trains to get that strong, buff body of yours? The body that helps you in your fights?" "I am." He looked down at you. "And who's the one who trained themselves to carve people open with such ease? The one who knows how to properly maneuver a hunting knife?" "... I'm the one." He runs his hands down your arms.

"That mask and that name may be a facade, but that daring, charming personality is all you." You rub your hands back down to his pants, placing a kiss on his mask. Ghostface rubs your hip, sliding his hand up your shirt as you massaged him, sticking your hands into his boxers. You and Ghostface moved back over to the bed, and he sits down, leaning back and man-spreading.

You sit down on top of him, pulling his cock out and starting to stroke, Ghostface rocked his head back, letting out a loud sigh as you did. Your fingers wavered up and down his lengthy rod, getting a good feel of every vein and curve on it.

"You gonna keep teasing me like that or are you gonna sit on it?" "I think I'm gonna keep teasing you." You smirked. "You're such a flirt. I just might have to punish you." He squeezes your thighs, slapping them. Biting your bottom lip, you lift up your skirt a bit, rubbing the tip against your entrance as it gradually shoves inside you. You let out a breathy moan, your hands straddling his his forearms. "It's okay, baby. I got you." He whispers, trying to calm your nerves a bit.

You wiggled your hips around him, Ghostface looking up at you in bliss. Quiet moans and heavy huffs came from both of you, filling the room like fine air freshener. "That's my girl." He whispers, grabbing your waist. His tone was soft and loving. You sighed in pleasure, letting out a broken moan. "Fuck.." he cursed, breathing heavily. "Keep going..." he groans, reaching his hand up your stomach. "You're so pretty." Ghostface teases you, running his hand up your stomach. "You feel so good." Your fave heats up at the constant praise.

"Look at you. All flushed and cute. I love it when you do that." Ghostface smirked as he took notice of your rosey cheeks. "You like that, pretty girl? Does that feel good?" You place on of your hands on his chest to keep balance. He holds onto your waist, throwing your forward as he bucked his hips aggressively, making you scream out.

"Can you handle that, Baby?" He asks teasingly with no intention of slowing. "You're so warm." He whispers in your ear, pounding into you. "You take me so well. You fit around me perfectly." He whispers filthy things into your ear, arms wrapped around your waist as you take it. Your moans grow louder, more desperate, just like his thrusts. "Tell me you love it. Beg for it. Tell me how good it feels. How it feels when I fuck you like this." He only gets more feral as the time passes.

"I-" you couldn't speak. "Use your words, baby. I know you can." He pressures you. "It feels so good." You manage to get out. "I know it does, baby. I know." He continues to buck. Your eyes tear up as he explores the depths of your inner walls.

"Are you close, pretty girl?" He sits up properly, bouncing you on his lap. The edge of his cock hit against your cervix, slamming against you in a rough yet playful manner. With every bounce, air was knocked out of you, along with what felt like a few braincells. You couldn't think straight, your head felt hot, and your brows were furrowed. "Not yet, baby. Hold it." You whined at his request.

"Hold it for me. I know you can do it." He encouraged you. Tears fell down your face, your breaths fast and heavy, and your brain fried. You couldn't help yourself. Wrapping your arms around him, you buried your head into his neck, reaching your climax with a small cry.

"I turn you on that much, eh?" He says, running his hands up and down. Your back, no response. "It's okay. I'll take care of you." He chuckles, still trying to catch his breath. "You're so cute. I'd kill to see that look on your face again." He hold you.

"But, uh,.. I've just got one little question." "Hm?" You lifted your head. "You wouldn't mind me tying you up next time, would you?..."