$crim ($uicideBoy$) SCRIM SUICIDE Boys Smut Collection

Stranger 5

"When you saw me at the store, who did you think I was?" Laying next to Scott naked under the blankets of his new bed, he's playing with your hand, caressing your skin.

You turn your head, your mind in a haze of post-sex mind-numbing bliss. "Um, I knew someone in college, but he was just a tall, skinny guy with dark hair. He was friends with my friends, no one I knew too well."

He lets out a hum and turns over to hold you. "We got like two rooms left, and Ill probably pass out if we try to do them today."

"Same I thought I was gonna have to punch you if you kept going; I legit did not think I could cum three times like that." Your eyes are closed, and you can feel yourself drifting off.

The next few weeks are unique; you and Scott are always together when you aren't working. The sex doesn't stop, and you're teaching him more recipes to make every other day.

"Dude, I can't catch a break with this online rumor, bull shit!" He slams his phone down, lays on the couch, and covers his face.

"Is everything ok? What's happening?" You don't want to touch his phone, but you look down at it and the screen is cracked, and it continues lighting up.

"fuck no, I swear I can't have shit. Someone doxxed me and knows my address and knows your name. This cannot be worse."

"How the fuck is that possible?! What-" You stand next to him, waiting for an answer.

He's rubbing his face and grabs his phone, "Nah, gimme a minute. I got a phone call to make."

He leaves the room and enters his studio room for almost an hour.

You're sweating and decide you should probably leave.

You hear a slam and yelling and run out of the door. "You fucking BITCH!"

You've never run so fast in your life, and you can't unlock your car fast enough, and he grabs the back of your hair, dragging you backward. Before you can get a word out, he has you by your throat and pulls you into his house. You try to fight him off, but he takes every hit; his body feels like a wall on your fists, slaps, and kicks. You can't breathe, and he holds your face, taking his hand off your throat.

"I should fucking kill you! You're a fucking clout-chasing bitch, huh. That's why your ass been on my couch every fucking night, in my fuckign bed? Bro!" he lets go of you and heads to the kitchen, and you hurry to the door, but he throws a knife at you. It misses by a lot, but THROWING KNIVES?!

"What the fuck?!" you scream, tears streaming down your face, and you curl into a ball by the door.

"You think I'm going to let you fucking run after all this bullshit. You're good as dead, and I'll hide your body fucking dumb bitch." He rushes over to you, grabs your arm, and pulls you to the kitchen.

"I DIDN'T KNOW SCOTT, PLEASE!" you're screaming, and he pushes you to the floor.

"Didn't know what? About all the shit about my past that you sold to the fucking papers? Huh? Cuz you're the only one I told but my boys, and they'd die before telling our business."

He covers your mouth with his hand; his eyes are black, and you've never been so scared. You're letting out audible cries and screams that don't go past his hand. Breathing is problematic from the snot and coughs. He gets into your face, and you can smell his breath, anger, sweat, and musk. "Don't use my fucking name, don't call me shit! This is all your fault; you sold me out so fast, huh?"

You shake your head and cry harder. You try to scream "please," but he slaps you with the hand that was covering your mouth. The shock of the hit turns your head, and you stop yelling and crying. Only tears, and you close your eyes and look down. "I know who told them."